Transgendered Fairy Tales
by Kaleigh Way

Long ago in the Punjab there was a king who had two young sons. They were good boys, and spent their time learning all the things that kings' sons ought to know. While they were still young, the queen their mother died. Shortly after, the king their father married again.

Of course, the new wife was jealous of the two young princes, and began to treat them badly, as stepmothers sometimes do. First, instead of wheatcakes, she gave them cakes made from barley meal. Then, she had the salt left out. Soon, the barley meal was sour and full of weevils and the cakes were nearly inedible. At last, the new queen took to beating the poor young princes. When they resisted this punishment, she told the king that they were disobedient and disrespectful, and he became so angry that he had them beaten all over again!

At that point, the lads decided to find a remedy. The younger one said, "Let's go into the world and earn our living."

"Yes!" cried the elder, "Let's leave at once, and never eat bread under this roof again."

"Hold on," replied the younger, who was wise beyond his years. "We don't know when we'll eat again: let's fill our stomachs while we may." So they ate their bread, as foul as it was, and climbing onto a single pony, set out to seek their fortune.

Once the palace was out of sight, they entered a barren country where the sun was hot. They rode along a ways, then dismounted under a large tree, and sat down to rest. At the same time, a parrot and a starling landed on the tree and began fighting for the best perch.

"I've never seen such impertinence!" cried the starling, as he gave the parrot a rough shove. "Why, I am such an important bird, that if any man were to eat me, he would no doubt become prime minister!"

"Then you should stand aside for me," rejoined the parrot, as he crowded out the starling. "If any man were to eat me, he would no doubt become king!"

Hearing these words, the brothers drew their crossbows and struck both birds in the same moment. The two birds fell down dead, and were soon cleaned, cooked, and ready to be eaten, but the two brothers were so fond of each other that neither would claim to have shot the parrot. At last the younger brother said, "Look here, the food is cooling as we speak; let's not waste time. You're the elder brother: you should claim your birthright, since it was your fate to be born first."

So the elder prince ate the parrot, and the younger prince ate the starling. Then they climbed on the pony and rode away. They hadn't gone very far when the elder brother saw that his whip was missing. He was sure he'd left it under the tree, and proposed to go back for it.

"Not so," said the younger prince. "You're the king and I'm the minister, so I should go back and find the whip."

"Be it as you wish," replied the elder, "but take the pony, so you can return more quickly. In the meantime I'll proceed on foot to yonder town."

The younger prince rode back to the tree, but the snake-demon, to whom the tree belonged, had returned and no sooner did the poor prince set foot within its shade that the horrid serpent struck and killed him.

Meanwhile, the elder prince arrived at the town, which he found in a state of great commotion. Their king had recently died, and although all of the city's inhabitants had marched in a line past the sacred elephant, the animal hadn't chosen any of them. You must know that this is how kings were chosen in this place: the elephant would kneel before the favored individual. This time, however, the throne had been vacant for some time, and the over-particular animal had not yet given his recognition to anyone. The whole city had passed before him three times, and every stranger was unceremoniously hauled before the beast. And so it was with our young friend.

Imagine the surprise, the relief, and the rejoicing when the elephant, the moment it caught sight of the prince, went down on its great knees and saluted the prince over and over with its trunk. And so he was immediately elected to the throne, amid great celebration.

All this time the younger prince lay dead beneath the tree. The king, his brother, after waiting and watching a long time in vain, gave him up for lost and appointed someone else as prime minister.

But then it happened that a magician and his wife, who were protected by charms from the serpents that lived in the tree, came to draw water from the spring that flowed at its roots. When the magician's wife saw the dead prince lying there, so handsome and so young, she thought she'd never seen anyone so beautiful before. Taking pity on him, she said to her husband, "You're always talking about your wisdom and power. Prove it by bringing this dead boy back to life!"

At first the magician refused, but when his wife began to mock him and call him nothing but a pretender, he replied angrily, "Very well! You shall see that though I cannot bring the dead back to life, I can force another to do the deed." Whereupon he passed his hand over his wife's brass drinking bowl and bade her fill it at the spring. Lo and behold! every drop of water flowed into the little vessel until the spring was completely dry!

"Now," the magician told her, "come away home, and we shall see what we shall see."

When the serpents found their spring had dried up, they were terribly put out, for serpents are thirsty creatures, and love water. They bore it for three days, but when the water did not return, they went in a body to the magician. "We will do whatever you ask," they told him, "if only you restore the water to our spring." He promised to do that, if they restored the prince to life. The snake-demon gladly agreed, and the magician accompanied the snakes back to their tree.

Unfortunately, the poor prince had been dead for some time now, and his body was in sad condition. Although his face was still beautiful, other parts of him were not, and some pieces had already been torn apart and eaten by animals. If it weren't for the magician's promise to his wife, they would have given up on bringing the prince back to life.

The snake-demon had the power to call the prince's spirit back, but neither he nor the magician could mend his broken body. So they looked for a replacement, and the best they could find was the body of a pretty girl. She was a runaway who had the misfortune of seeking shelter under the tree. A serpent's bite had killed her just the day before, and she was young, healthy, and delightful to look upon.

The magician transformed her tattered gown into handsome traveling clothes better suited to a princess. Then the snake-demon called up the prince's spirit and breathed it into the girl's body.

When the prince came back to life, he imagined he'd only been asleep. Fearing that his brother would be vexed by his delay, he seized the whip and quickly stood. Then he felt the difference in himself: first his clothes, then his hair, and then his breasts! His astonishment increased when the magician stepped forward and explained everything.

The young prince was shocked and surprised, but he was also philosophical, so he resolved to make the best of the new life he'd been given. "Better a live princess than a dead prince!" he declared.

The prince — or princess, rather — mounted the pony (which had been grazing by the tree this whole time) and dashed off, laughing to herself about the explanation she'd give her older brother. Would he believe her?

Lost in thought, she made a wrong turn, and after a very long and solitary ride, she arrived at a different city from the one where her brother was king.

It was late in the evening, and she had no money in her pocket. After passing through the city without finding her brother, she saw a old woman herding goats. The woman had a kindly face, so she said to her, "Ma'am, if you could give me food and a place to sleep, I will gladly give you my pony in exchange."

The woman agreed, and the princess went to live in her house. The two got on very well together, and the princess helped the old woman with her chores. But after a week or so, the girl noticed that the old woman looked very sad, so she asked what was the matter.

"The matter is this," the old woman said, with tears in her eyes. "In this kingdom there lives an ogre. Every day this ogre devours a young man, a goat, and a wheatcake, and if we deliver these things each day he leaves the rest of the kingdom in peace. Every day someone must provide the meal, and each inhabitant in turn must prepare it, under penalty of death. Today is my turn. The cake I can make, the goat I have, but where will I find the young man?"

"Why doesn't someone kill the ogre?" asked the brave young princess.

"Many have tried, but all have failed. The king has gone so far as to promise his daughter's hand in marriage, and half his kingdom, if any man can succeed." The old woman sighed heavily and bursting into tears, sobbed, "And now I must die, for where can I find a young man?"

"Don't cry," the princess told her. "You've been very kind to me, and I will do my best for you by being part of the ogre's dinner. I don't think he'll mind eating a girl for a change."

The old woman flatly refused to allow such a kind and beautiful girl to sacrifice herself, but the princess laughed at her fears and cheered her up until the goodwife gave in.

"The only thing I ask," said the princess, "is that you make the wheatcake as large as you possibly can, and give me the finest and fattest goat in your flock."

The old woman agreed, and once everything was prepared, the princess led the goat and carried the cake to the tree where the ogre came every evening to receive and devour his accustomed meal. After she tied the goat to the tree and laid the cake on the ground, the princess stepped back, hid herself, and waited. Presently the ogre, a very frightful monster, appeared. As a rule, he ate the young man first, because the cake and the goat were usually not very appetizing. This evening, however, seeing the biggest cake and the fattest goat he had ever laid eyes on, the ogre began to slobber and drool, and straightaway he gobbled them both up. As he finished the last mouthful, before he let out a single belch, the princess lept out of hiding and drew her sword. A terrible battle ensued. The ogre fought like an ogre, but his full stomach made him heavy and slow, and while the princess was not strong, she was light and quick. In the end the princess was victorious, and with a great sweeping blow cut off the ogre's head. She tied it up in a piece of cloth, and exhausted by the combat lay down to rest and fell fast asleep.

In the morning, a scavenger came by, as he did each day, to take away the bones left from the ogre's feast. When the scavenger saw only half the usual quantity of bones, he was astonished, but even more so when he found the pretty princess fast asleep, with the ogre's head by her side.

"Ho! Ho!" he thought, "This is a fine chance for me!"

Very gently he wrapped the girl in an old tarp and set her in a clay pit nearby. He covered the poor girl with clay and left her to die. Then he took the ogre's head and brought it to the king, claiming half the kingdom and the princess' hand in marriage, as the reward for slaying the ogre.

The king had his suspicions that the scavenger was not completely truthful, but true to his promise, he gave up half his kingdom. As far as his daughter was concerned, he pointed out that the girl was very young, and asked the scavenger for a year's delay. So the scavenger-king reigned over half the kingdom, while the king secretly looked for a way out of the promised marriage.

In the meantime, some potters came to get clay from the pit, and were quite surprised to find a lovely girl, unconscious but still breathing, hidden beneath the clay. They took her home and had their wives care for her. Soon she recovered, and was surprised to hear of the scavenger's victory over the ogre, which everyone was talking about.

She understood how the wicked man had stepped in and defrauded her, but since there were no witnesses, and no one would believe that a girl had succeeded where so many brave men had failed, so she held her tongue, and gladly accepted when the potters offered to teach her their trade.

The princess was so clever and had such small and nimble fingers, that soon the potters became famous for their beautiful patterns and excellent workmanship; so much so, that the story of the lovely girl who had been found in a clay pit became noised about. Even though the princess never breathed a word of her identity or her adventures, when the news of her existence reached the scavenger-king's ears, he determined to get rid of the young girl, before the truth could leak out.

Just at that time, a fleet of merchant vessels were detained in the harbor by calms and contrary winds. This had gone on so long that it became a serious matter, so the auguries were consulted. They declared that unless human blood were spilt the vessels would never leave port. When this was reported to the scavenger-king, he seized the opportunity and said, "It must be done, if that's the case. But we shall not sacrifice a citizen. Give the merchants that strange potter-girl, who came from god-knows-where!"

The order was given, and the girl was handed over to the merchants. They took her on board and prepared to kill her. However, she begged them to wait until evening, to see if a breeze might come. They agreed, but when none came, she had an inspiration. The augur had said nothing about a sacrifice, but only spoke of blood... She pricked her finger and squeezed out a drop. As she did, the sails of the first ship filled with wind, and glided out of the harbor. As she squeezed out a second drop, the second ship did the same, and so on until the whole fleet was sailing before a strong breeze.

The merchants were enchanted by her beauty and by her apparent ability to compel the winds, so they took the very greatest care of her. Before long she was a great favorite of them all, for she really was an amiable young lady. No one dared to touch or harm her, for she was quite evidently a princess, and they believed her protected by heaven itself.

After many voyages and much long travel, they arrived at the city where the princess' brother had been elected king by the elephant.

While the merchants went into the city to transact their business, the princess stayed behind with those who watched the vessels. When she grew tired of watching, she came on shore and found that the beach was made of soft clay. To amuse herself, she began to work the clay into a model of her father's palace. Soon she was absorbed in the work, and kept at it until she had created a rare work of beauty. There was the garden, full of trees and flowers, the king on his throne, the courtiers standing round — even the two princes at their studies, and the pigeons atop the tower. When it was finished, the poor girl couldn't help the tears coming into her eyes as she sighed over days long past.

The son of the prime minister happened to pass that way. He was wonderstruck by the beautiful model of the palace, but even more struck by the lovely, sad, young girl who sat sighing beside it. He went straight home, up to his room, and threw himself on his bed.

When he didn't come down for lunch or dinner, his father began to worry that his son was ill, so he sent a servant to see what was wrong. This was the young man's reply: "Tell my father I will neither eat nor drink until he marries me to the beautiful girl who sits sighing on the sea shore near a palace made of clay."

The prime minister was not at all pleased to hear that his son wanted to marry a girl who had more or less washed up on the beach. However, when he saw that his son would starve to death, he outwardly gave his consent. Privately, he made arrangements with a shipowner to take the bride and groom for a sailing honeymoon. He paid the sailors to throw the girl into the sea at the first opportunity and bring the groom back to his father.

So the marriage took place, the ship set sail, and a day or two later the sailors pushed the girl overboard as she was sitting on the prow. But it so happened that a rope was hanging near the couple's cabin in the stern. As it drifted near the girl, she caught hold and climbed into the window unseen.

Her husband hid her from the crew, and — declaring that he would take his meals in his cabin, shared his food with his wife.

The merchants thought that they'd managed everything beautifully, so they turned their ship around, brought the groom and his trunk (with his wife inside!) back to his father. The prime minister was so pleased that he rewarded the sailors handsomely.

His son was also quite content to be home with his bride. When she wished to roam about the palace, she disguised herself as a servant, and in that way was quite safe and secure.

Now, the princess had told her husband the whole story of her life (leaving out, of course, the fact that she once had been a prince!). When her husband in turn told her how the king, who had been elected by an elephant, had made his father prime minister, the girl began to suspect that this king was her long-lost brother. Then she laid a plan to be sure.

Every day, a bouquet of flowers was sent to the king from the minister's garden, so one evening the princess, dressed as a servant, went up to the gardener's daughter and told her, "I can show you a new way of arranging them, if you like." Taking the flowers, she arranged them just as her father's gardener used to do.

The next morning, when the king saw the bouquet, he became quite pale, and turning to the gardener, asked who had arranged the flowers.

"I did, sire," the gardener replied, trembling with fear.

"You lie, knave!" the king replied, "but if you bring me another such bouquet tomorrow, I will forgive you."

That evening, the gardener's daughter, full of fear, came weeping to the disguised princess. She told her what had happened and begged her to make another bouquet to save her father's life. The princess did so willingly, for now she was certain that the king was her long-lost brother. She made another bouquet, even more beautiful than the last, and concealed among the flowers a paper on which her old name, the name she was born with, was written.

When the king found the paper, he said to the gardener, "Please do not pretend that you made this bouquet. Now, unless you tell me the whole truth, I will be very angry with you."

The gardener fell on his knees and confessed that one of the women-servants in the prime minister's palace had made it for his daughter. This answer surprised the king immensely. He was so curious to get to the bottom of the mystery that he disguised himself as a gardener and went with the gardener's daughter to cut flowers in the minister's garden. As soon as the princess saw him, she recognized him, but he had no idea who the lovely girl could be. The princess was determined to see whether wealth and power had changed her brother's heart, so she didn't answer his questions about where she'd learned to arrange flowers. Instead, she told him some of the adventures she'd had while travelling with the merchants. Then she declared that she was tired, and went off to her room.

The king was fascinated by the story, and didn't realize until later that his question had not been answered. So he returned to the garden the next evening. Again the girl entertained him with stories of wonders she'd seen in far-off lands and strange happenings at sea. Again, pleading fatigue, she retired.

The third night, the princess told of the scavenger-king's attempt to have her sacrificed.

The fourth night, the princess recounted her life among the potters, and how they had freed her from the clay pit.

The king continued to visit the prime minister's house each evening, and each time he was entranced by the princess' stories. Try as he might, however, he was never able to get an answer to his question: where had the girl come from?

He was on pins and needles each day, and waited anxiously for the evening, determined to press his question to the lovely girl.

The fifth night, he heard of her fight with the ogre and how she'd been left in the clay pit to die.

The sixth night, she told him about the magician and the snake-demon.

It was only on the seventh night that the princess told the story of the parrot and the starling, and revealed who she truly was.

The king fell on his sister's neck and rejoiced greatly.

The prime minister, when he learned what an excellent marriage his son had made, and what a terrible mistake he had made, begged forgiveness from the girl and from his son. He offered, in the spirit of the starling's prediction, to step down as prime minister, but the girl replied that it was not necessary. She was quite happy with the love of her husband and the peaceful life of the minister's palace.

The very next day, the king sent an ambassador to the king of the country where the ogre had been killed, telling him the truth of the story, and saying that his sister was quite satisfied where she was and did not intend to claim half of the kingdom.

Also, after pointing out that the other king's daughter was free to marry whomever she wished, he paid court to the girl himself, and soon the two were married.

There was great rejoicing, and the scavenger-king was put to death, which he well deserved.

© 2007 by Kaleigh Way