Transgendered Fairy Tales
by Kaleigh Way

There was once a king whose life was nearly perfect. His subjects loved him. He was envied and feared by his peers. His kingdom was beautiful, prosperous, happy, and well-ordered. His heart was good, his spirit noble, and he truly deserved the universal respect and admiration he enjoyed.

He was very fond of hunting, and one day, while chasing a stag, the king left the rest of his party far behind. For a moment his prey seemed to disappear among the trees. The king stopped, stayed very still, and listened. After a moment, he heard the rustle of dry leaves and the snapping of sticks, and in the distance the king saw the magnificent stag leap over a bush, and heard it splash as it dashed through a stream on the other side. Without thinking or looking ahead, the king spurred his horse over the same bush and splashed through the same stream, but after a few steps, the earth seemed to split apart below him. The king fell from his horse and tumbled into the open fissure. He fell for a long, long way until he landed hard at the bottom of a very deep hole, surrounded by jets of flame that roared and burst and hovered in the air around him. The king could plainly see that there was no way out of that pit, for the flames hemmed him in, on every side.

For some moments the king lay in stunned silence, surrounded by that wall of flame. He looked up, but above the intense fires there was no end to the darkness above. He had no idea how far he'd fallen, and he suspected that the fissure had closed just as quickly as it had opened. There was nothing to do but give himself up for lost.

Suddenly a piercing voice cried, "Ungrateful man! Not even these flames could warm your ice-cold heart!"

He called out and asked who was speaking. Whoever it was stood on the other side of the dazzling wall of fire.

"An unhappy being who loves you hopelessly," the voice replied, and in the same moment the flames flickered and went out.

Before him stood a dazzling fairy, whose name was Ragotte. Her beauty was truly breathtaking, and her voice was pleasant and musical. She was an embodiment of grace; her every aspect was completely enticing, but the king knew her too well to be fooled. Ragotte was cruel, vain, and pitiless. She was sensitive to a fault: she always managed to be offended by the most harmless things, and when offended, her revenge left nothing to the imagination. The fairy was attended by a lovely young girl, evidently her servant.

"Ragotte," the king demanded, "What is the meaning of this? Is it your doing that has brought me here?"

"Tell me, your majesty," she answered, "whose fault is it that you've never understood me? Must a powerful fairy like myself condescend to explain her doings to an insect like you? You may puff yourself up and call yourself a king, but what is that to me?"

"Call me what you like," he said with some impatience, "but tell me, what it is that you want? My crown? My cities? My treasures?"

"Treasures?" she scoffed. "With a wave of my hand I could make my lowliest servant richer and more powerful than you. I do not want your 'treasures', but...," here her voice softened, "if you were to give me your heart — if you marry me — I will add twenty kingdoms to the one you have already. I can give you a hundred castles full of gold and five hundred full of silver, and... oh! I can give you anything you ask for! Only say that it's me you desire! So long, so often, I've hinted of my love for you, but you've never noticed, you've never seen or heard. I can bear it no longer! I must tell you plainly: I love you with all my heart, and I want to hear that you feel the same! See what my love for you has reduced me to?"

For years the king couldn't help but notice Ragotte's rather obvious "hints" and heavy-handed declarations. Thus far he'd succeeded in acting a little dull, and pretending to miss the fairy's clear indications about the state of her heart. It appeared that this strategy would work no longer. He tried a new approach.

"My dear Ragotte," he told her, "When a man finds himself dropped to the bottom of a pit, and just barely escaped being roasted alive, it's impossible to think of such matters as marriage — even with such a lovely person as yourself. I beg you, let us return to the world above, where I shall have the liberty to answer you in a far more suitable setting."

"What a pretty speech!" she replied dryly. "If you really loved me, you would not care where you were: a cave, a wood, a garden, a desert. Any place would please you equally well. I see quite well that my love means nothing to you. You've simply been leading me on for all these years. Don't think you can deceive me: your games with me are over. You thought your pretty words might win your escape, but I assure you that I will not let you go. I will put you in my service and see how it changes your temper. I meant to make you my equal, the king of my heart, but now you will serve as one of my menials. Your first task will be to tend my sheep — and you'll find them to be very good company, for each of them can make pretty speeches the same as you do."

In fact, Ragotte had a rather large flock of sheep, composed entirely of men and women who had offended her in some way, real or imagined.

As she spoke, she kept coming nearer, step by step, to the king. However, as she spoke, the king's attention was drawn to the poor, sad, lovely girl who stood behind the fairy. Even her smallest movements were filled with an exquisite grace. He couldn't help but stare at her. The fairy saw this, and in a fit of jealousy, she turned and made a gesture. The lovely creature's face convulsed in pain for a brief silent moment; then she fell to the ground, lifeless.

Enraged, the king drew his sword and rushed at Ragotte. He would have cut her head off, if she hadn't pinned him to the spot with her magic arts. His efforts to move were useless, until at last, dropping his sword, he fell to his knees.

The fairy looked down at him with a scornful smile, and said, "I intend to make you feel the weight of my power. I meant to make you to tend my sheep, but now... It seems you are a lion at present, but I shall make you a lamb." She lifted her wand, then stopped. After gazing at him for some time, and with a glance back at the dead girl, she murmured, "I already have many sheep, but they have no shepherd. And here you are, a big strong man..." She laughed wickedly. "A man who scorned a heart full of love, a gentle, harmless woman's heart." She thought for another moment, then said, "Yes, I know the perfect lesson for you. You were ready to throw your heart at the feet of my worthless slave, but your heart — which should have been mine — will never belong to another."

The fairy took him by the hand, and lifted him to his feet. Then she touched him with her wand. "For five years," she said, "you will tend my sheep. See that you care for your charges well, or you will suffer the consequences. I will no longer see your face, which I loved so much, but I will be better able to hate and mistreat you, as you so richly deserve."

The fairy led him by the hand until they came to a sun-lit plain, full of sheep. All across the landscape the animals either browsed and nibbled on grass, or gathered in twos or threes for conversation.

Now that they stood in daylight, the king realized that he was not wearing the same clothes as before. Instead of his hunting leathers, he now dressed as a simple shepherdess. It was not only his clothes that had changed, but his entire aspect as well: no one would ever take him for a king, never again. He looked like nothing more or less than a sweet little peasant girl, who spends her days tending sheep.

"Your name is now Celia," she told him, "this field is now your kingdom, and these sheep are your only subjects. When your service to me is fulfilled, you will be free to go, but you will never be a king again, and you will never give your heart to another woman. Remember that this punishment is something you brought upon yourself: you should have given your heart to me."

With that, the fairy was gone, and Celia was left alone with her sheep.

© 2007 by Kaleigh Way