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So there’s this princess and her handmaiden who are sent to the next realm over (without any retinue or guards, because why not) so that the princess can marry the prince. The princess has a talking horse named Falada (why can he talk? it isn’t clear) and a magic handkerchief her mother gave her for protection (instead of guards; again, why not). During the course of the journey, the handmaiden decides she’s tired of being a servant and can definitely be a better royal than the princess, so she changes clothes with the princess, gets on the horse, and starts bossing the princess around. And the princess goes along with this because… why not. Also, she loses the magic handkerchief so it no longer protects her.So they get to the other realm and the fake!princess orders that the fake!handmaiden be cast out for reasons and has the talking horse killed so that he can’t tell the truth of the matter. Then, for reasons, the talking horse’s head is affixed to an overhang. Why? Why not. Anyway, the fake!handmaiden finds work as a goose girl, and her duties take her under the overhang with the talking horse head which still talks even though the horse is dead. For reasons. Time passes. The fake!princess and the prince aren’t married yet, but somehow the fake!handmaiden gets an audience with the king, tells him everything, and presents the dead talking horse as evidence. So the fake!princess is punished, the fake!handmaiden marries the prince, and the dead talking horse is finally buried. And everyone (except the fake!princess and the dead talking horse) live happily ever after.
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Okay, so, first you gotta know about Zeus, right? Dude’s always thinking with his dick. He’s got this awesome wife but he keeps running around, and his wife is sharp—so he’s gotta disguise what (and who) he’s doing.So. There’s this princess who’s been locked in a tower because it’s prophesized that her kid’s gonna off her dad the king. The best way to keep that from happening? Make sure she never has kids, but you can’t just go around killing your kids because the gods kinda frown on that. So he locks her up instead.But Zeus is out looking for someone to do and somehow he catches a whiff of this gorgeous girl locked away and he’s like, “Dude! I gotta do that.”Instead of knocking on the door, he slips into her tower as a sprinkle of golden light. She has literally no idea what’s going on, but then she’s pregnant and her dad freaks the fuck out. Like, you know, anyone would. The princess probably freaks the fuck out, too.So, because the king wants to turn the prophecy into a self-fulfilling prophecy (like happens ALL THE TIME around here), he decides to wait until his grandchild is born, then lock both the baby and the mom into a chest and have them tossed into the sea.Obviously that makes all the sense in the world. And since it’s technically not actually killing his bloodkin, the gods don’t care. Zeus does make sure they’re found by some nice fishermen and settled into a village, so that’s nice of him.The (ex?)princess and her kid have a nice life, and years pass. (At some point, she guesses that her kid is half-god. She also probably guesses which god is his dad.)Anyway. The kid grows up strong and clever and handsome as hell. Things happen and for some reason, he needs to go kill this chick named Medusa (who was turned into a monstrous creature because she didn’t wanna have sex with Poseidon, but that’s another story). He’s given a shiny shield and flying shoes because Zeus is still looking after him every now and then.So the kid breaks into Medusa’s place and cuts off her head, using the shield to watch her because if he actually looks at her, he’ll turn to stone like every other dickbag who broke into her place. On the way home, he comes across a beautiful princess chained to a rock by the sea and he stops to ask, “What the hell?”Turns out, this princess has been chained to the rock so that a sea monster can eat her because her mother decided to announce to the world that her baby girl was prettier than any goddess.(Seriously. What the hell.)Well, how lucky is it that the kid has flying shoes and a head that turns things to stone, right? So when the sea monster shows up, the kid turns it to stone, unchains the princess, and asks, “Wanna come home with me?”And she’s like, “Well, my other option is staying here where my mom thought it’d be a good idea to piss off literally every goddess in existence, so why not?”The kid says, “Yay! Let’s bring this head home and get married.”So the kid carries the princess, the shiny shield, and a head that turns things to stone home. Because reasons. And everyone lives happily ever after.(… except the kid’s grandpa. Because he visits that village for some reason and, wouldn’t you know—the kid (who is more of a man now) accidentally overthrows a discus which hits this old guy in the head.)
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So, there was this badass hunter once. He was out hunting in the woods, as hunters do, when he got lost. So he wandered around for awhile, getting thirstier and thirstier, and then he heard what sounded like laughter and splashing water, so obviously he headed toward it. Now, what the hunter didn’t know was that a goddess and her entourage were bathing in a lake. Artemis was flirting with one of her attendants, telling her truly terrible jokes, when her hounds started growling. Her girls all drew back, deeper into the lake, as Artemis whirled, reaching for whatever had drawn the hounds’ attention. The hunter shouted as something grabbed him from the bushes and tossed him onto the lake-shore. He gaped up at the most terrifying woman he’d ever seen - flashing eyes, hair swirling around her, lashing in a wind that keeps rising. “My lady,” he gasped, “my lady-” But alas, the hunter had already seen what the Goddess of the Hunt had sworn no man would ever see. “My lady,” one of the softer-hearted of her girls called. “Have mercy.” “Mercy I grant to the beasts,” the Goddess of the Wild stated, and where they had been a man was now a magnificent stag. “Run,” the goddess said. “I hear a horn.” As the stag leapt into the trees, the goddess returned to the lake and to her companions. When the dogs bayed in the distance, the goddess saw one of her attendants flinch. That girl was gone in the morning, but the goddess barely noted her absence, eyes caught in the smile of her current favorite.
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So, once upon a time there lived a king who had 12 daughters. I’m assuming the queen died in childbirth, probably during the birth of the youngest, or maybe after, because damn. At least 12 pregnancies. *shudders* (Or maybe they have different moms? It’s never clear.) (Also, what is their age range? Let’s say the youngest is 16; if they have the same mother, then the oldest is at least 28. Wouldn’t some of them have already been married off to secure alliances? If they have different mothers, I think this makes more sense.)Anyway, so 12 daughters. No sons. What is a patriarchal society king to do? So it comes to the king’s attention that his 12 daughters are going through shoes hella quickly, and that’s apparently a bad thing because it’s expensive to replace 24 shoes every day. Not to mention, no one has any idea where they’re going to wear out their shoes so quickly. The king’s even had them locked in their room (because they all share a room? Damn) overnight but somehow, in the morning their shoes were still worn out. Also, the princesses seem tired all the time. The king is either worried that the safety of his palace has apparently been compromised or for his daughters’ health; again, it’s not clear. The king decides to announce to the realm that there’s something odd going on: it’s proclaimed throughout the land that the man who can determine what’s going on with the princesses can have one of their hands for marriage. Why not? Of course, there’s a tiny bit of fine print in that any man who tries and fails will be executed. Again, why not? Obviously, a princess’s hand in marriage is no small thing, so dozens of men descend on the palace and then dozens of men are executed. Throughout it all, the princesses’ shoes continue to be worn out overnight and they’re still tired all the time. (… does it occur to no one that maybe they should stop replacing the shoes and see what happens?)Anyway, in a small village somewhere in the realm there is a peasant’s son who is clever and kind and handsome. He decides to seek his fortune. On the way, he’s tested by various magical means that determine he is, in fact, clever and kind; it’s obvious just by looking that he’s handsome. So a fairy or a witch decides to offer him advice and a few magical objects, and then directs him toward the palace, where he can make his fortune. As he ambles up to the palace, he sees the remains of the executed men; this does not deter him, because he is clever and kind and brave. Also, he’s got magical objects. Why not try his luck? By this point, the king is tired of all the executions and all the idiots who try lying, and also of buying new shoes all the damn time. But the clever and kind and handsome peasant is charming, too, so the king’s like, “Fine, dude, on your head be it.” So that night the peasant hangs out in the princesses’ room; the oldest offers him a nightcap of wine and he pretends to drink it. He then pretends to fall asleep, and watches through slitted eyes as the princesses put on their prettiest gowns and their newest shoes, and then the floor sinks down into a stairway. Because that happens. The peasant slips on the invisibility belt the fairy or witch gave him and proceeds to follow them into the place below the palace. He trods a little too close to the youngest, who says, “I think someone’s following us!” The rest of the princesses laugh at her. The path goes through a golden and silver wood; the peasant breaks off a branch and tucks it into his pocket. Finally, they come to a small dock with 12 small boats but no boatman; the princesses each get in one and the peasant hurries to join the youngest in hers. “I really think someone else is here!” she calls to her sisters, and they laugh at her once more. The boats launch; the youngest princess frets, frowning quite prettily, and the peasant gazes at her adoringly. Not creepily. Because he’s clever and kind and handsome, and also charming. But also invisible.Anyway. The boats dock and this time, there are well-dressed and very handsome men to help the princesses onto the pier. “Welcome back,” the oldest says, kissing the oldest princess’s hand. She curtsies and her sisters follow suit. “Thank you,” she says. The peasant follows them into a splendid palace; the youngest princess murmurs to her escort, “Someone else is here,” but he assures her that couldn’t possibly be true. She subsides. And once in a splendid ballroom, the princesses and their escorts begin to dance. The peasant finds a corner to hide in, and also tucks a diamond-encrusted goblet into his pocket with the branch. Hours pass. Finally, the clock strikes dawn and the oldest princess announces, “We must be going.” The men groan but chivalrously escort the princesses back to their boats and help them in, kissing their hands before letting go. The peasant hurries into the youngest’s boat. This time, she doesn’t even bother to tell her sisters that someone is there. So the boats dock and the princesses’ trudge back through the golden and silver wood, shoes in tatters, and then up the stairs and into their room. The peasant darts past them, barely making it back to his spot, where he swiftly pulls off his invisibility cloak and slumps back down, pretending sleep. “Good,” the oldest says. “We’re safe.” They all undress, pull on their nightclothes, and fall into bed. When the door is unlocked, the king sees the pile of their shoes and sighs. The princesses and the peasant are escorted to the throne room and the king asks, “What have you discovered?” The peasant stands up straight and keeps his gaze on the king as he announces, “There is a hidden door in your daughters’ room, Your Majesty.” The princesses gape as he produces the branch and the goblet, detailing out the journey and the 12 princes who danced with them. “Is this true?” the king rumbles and the youngest princess bursts out, “I told you someone was following us!” “I promised one of my daughters to whoever discovered the truth,” the king says. “Which do you choose?” Horrified, the princesses stare at first their father, and then the peasant; he gazes at the youngest adoringly. Of course, the youngest princess is given to the peasant in marriage. Instead of going back to his village, they live in the palace. Is it a happy marriage? Well, of course it must be. Because he is clever and kind and handsome, and also charming. No one ever learns how the hidden door arrived in the princesses’ room, or who the 12 princes were. But the youngest princess dances, sometimes, humming a tune no minstrel of her father’s court has ever played, and as her sisters are married off, she dances more and more. (Finally, only the youngest of the king’s daughters remains in his realm, and her oldest son is declared heir; she teaches her daughters to dance, and she never once tells her husband she loves him.)