#1
“Once upon a time, a time very far from our own, there was a castle made of glass and iron, set so high up that it was raised above the very clouds in the sky. Now, in this castle there lived a little princess who had many sisters and brothers, and fathers and mothers and aunts and uncles, and they all lived together quite happily. All, except for the princess herself.”
“As far back as she could remember, she had been treated differently from her siblings. There were whispers of what greatness she would come to possess, of how she would come to raise the castle even higher when she grew into her adulthood and became a leader of her people. But she watched the current clan chiefs, and how all night long they moved about with the great supports to the castle strapped upon their backs. The little princess did not wish such a burden to be hers, for she felt no greatness inside her. She only felt small.”
“The princess decided her elders must be mistaken, for she was certain that when they attached such a megalith to her back that it would crumble her to dust. Why they had agreed to place such a thing on her she did not know, and sadness dwelled thick within her heart at the constant thought of what disappointment she would be.”
“Her siblings did not see this. Their soft eyes saw only that she was treated special, and they grew uncomfortable in her presence. They laughed at her jokes because they feared the great power predicted by their elders might spring forth and cleave off their tongues if they did not. She could dress as garish as a the paint on a gypsy wagon, or be as dirty as a chimney flu, and receive nothing but compliments of the highest order.”
“Her sadness grew, until her chest ached with every beat of her full heart. To console herself she often slid out into the night and down to the pond, and sat on the cool grass shores under the moonlight. There she would stare into the wine-dark water, and pretend
that each of the stars was no further away than the surface that reflected them, and that she was nothing more than a water-skeeter, free to slip from each star-world to the next with only a few pushes of her quick buggy legs. Or that they were solid silver coins, and she a poor orphan, with their discovery opening a way for her to purchase her own future.”
“Every night drew her further away from the hearts of her kin, and that weighed on her like the lodestone that every day brought closer. It would trap her wings down when she wanted nothing more than to fly. One evening she wept, the burning in her soul flowing out out out like ripples in the water following the drop of a stone. The heat washed through her, and then over her skin, until she opened her glittering eyes to find she was no longer alone.”
“In front of her was a bird of fire; burnished gold brought to life and haloed in the holiest blue. And it spoke to her. ”
“Your heart cries out, and I heard it. I know what it calls for, and I can bring it to you.”
The princess was frightened- but only for a moment. “What must I do?” she asked.
“Fasten your arms tight about my neck,” sang the Phoenix, “and I will take you anywhere you wish to go. I am faster than any mortal bird, and not even time itself can bar me from my chosen destination. But mark this- you must remember the way home, for fire is my element and flame holds no memory.”
“Quick as a wink, the princess agreed, and was snatched up the phoenix in an embrace- or perhaps it was the other way around- and together they flew away.”
“Across entire oceans they danced. The princess ate palm-dates under the window of a Sultan, and listened to a woman inside spin the most fascinating tapestry of tales. She played in the thick red dust on the banks of a great river at a time when the sphinxes still fished on its banks, and stood on a sorochinsk rock to watch a hero slay a three-headed wyrm. Together they capered in the sky above a battlefield as the victor left in an ivory chariot drawn by elephants and accompanied by tigers, wolves, and bronze-headed giants; together they raced giant birds of thunder above an endless verdant jungle.”
“The world was born before her eyes, and born again, and she could not help but laugh in her moments of fear and smile in her moments of sorrow, for she was unbound from all thought of duty and family. All possibilities stretched out before her, which was all she had ever wanted.”
“And as it always goes, as soon as her heart’s desire had been filled, it began to beat in a different rhythm. All those long-absent thoughts of all her sisters and brothers and mothers and fathers crept back, and suddenly it was in her to want nothing as much as to see them again. She hungered for their voices and the comfort of their arms, and found that no wonders visited- no matter how exotic- could fill her desire to return to the castle in the sky. It burned in her now, as bright as any phoenix-feather.”
So it came that the little princess- who was perhaps not so little any more- stood in a grove and found the water that sprung up from beneath the largest tree to be more salty than her tears. Her heart refused to be silenced any longer, and it poured words up her throat and out her lips.
“Oh Phoenix, take me home!”
…But the Phoenix couldn’t. For all the splendor she had seen, the princess’s memory had become dazzled, and she could not remember the way home. And no matter how much she wept and wailed and carried on, the Phoenix could not help her.
“You useless thing!” she snarled at it. “Go away and leave me be!”
“For the first time in a long swallow of years, the heat of the phoenix flames faded from her skin, and when she opened her eyes she saw nothing but a flickering ghost in yellow, and then nothing at all. And no sooner had the cold night enveloped her in its robes, that she remembered the warmth of the hearth of her home, and just how to get there. She called for the Phoenix, but just as she had abandoned it, it had abandoned her- doing no less than what she asked, as it always had. So she dried her eyes, calmed her sniffles, and stood.”
“I must find my way home, and it will not happen by sitting here. If no one can carry me, I shall have to walk.”
“Now there was only one path before her, and she was resolute. The princess set out that very instant. Long she walked through the fields, until she came to a road. And longer still she walked on that road, until she came to a fox.”
“Greetings, cousin.” She said to it. “Have you meat to share? I have come far, and I am very hungry.”
“I cannot feed you,” yipped the fox in reply. “But I bless you in your travels”.
Further on she went, until she came to a wolf.
“Greetings, brother. Have you meat to share? I have come far, and I am very hungry.”
“Sorry, sister, I have not. But not long ago a man passed by this way with a whole hind slung about his shoulders. You look fast. If you run, you could catch him before the sun rises.”
“She thanked him kindly, for such advice he did not have to give to her. She ran on, until the trees shaded over her head and the road had become moss under her feet. The princess stopped then, as any traveler with eyes must do when a lion appears on the path, and hid herself behind a tree. With eyes like a snake she watched it, and held her breath until she thought she might burst. But just as her lungs started to shriek, the lion turned around and she saw that it was not a lion, but a huge man decked out in one’s skin.
And on the ground before him lay a deer, its hide the purest shade of eggtooth white. It kicked at the man, movements hampered by a long arrow pinioning legs together, fore to fore and aft to aft. The princess felt its pain like a spear in her gut, more sharp than her even her own hungers.”
“She quickly hunted her mind for plans on how to free him, traps to ensnare the man, weapons she might craft to bring him down. Each she discarded as more unreasonable than the next, until finally the man was snoring all on his own and she crept out and stole the hind away. And off she ran with it into the shelter of the deepest hold of the forest, little feet tearing silently through the brush.”
“You are strange-looking, for a dryad.” Said the deer as it stared up at her from the safety of the thicket.
“I’m not a dryad!” snapped back the princess, her tail smacking the ground in indignation.
“Then perhaps you are not strange-looking at all.” He smiled as he said it, and she had never seen a deer smile before. It made her blush, that smile, and she was relieved she was still dark from being angry. She removed the arrow from his legs, and rolled her hair up about it to keep it from her eyes.”
“Poor deer, how did you come to this predicament?”
“A Huntress sought me, but never could spring a trap or throw a spear to bring me down. Then lo, this man caught me, shooting that spit of iron into me, pinning my legs together so I could not run; pinning my magic so I could not flee. He was on road to deliver me to her; she wishes to lash me to her chariot in front of the four white hinds she already harnessed! She thinks I am a brother to them, but I am not.”
“No?”
“No! For they are simply magical hinds, and I am an enchanted Prince!”
“The princess nodded, not sure if she believed him, but willing to set aside her doubts after all that she herself had seen in this world. She offered up her own story for him, and he nodded slowly at her telling.”
“…But the Phoenix couldn’t take me,” she concluded.
“No?”
“No.” sobbed the princess. “I had forgotten the way.”
The white deer nodded in sympathy.
“I too have lost my home, as well as my true form. Let us travel together, and perhaps we will find someone who can help us both. For surely anyone who can send you home can break the spell upon me, and vice-versa.”
“She scrutinized the deer, who played modest and munched on the leaves off an olive branch. “Well,” she said at long last. “I don’t see fangs or hungry yellow eyes or big paws, so I don’t think you’re the type who would plan to eat me up. And I do see many points on your antlers, and a sharp edge to your hooves, so you could probably cast back anything that comes out of the forest that might be interested in doing so.”
“So together they traveled, in and out of a year, until they came upon a house that tottered back and forth on three hooved legs, each different. One was striped black and white, one was muddy-brown and bristly, and one was covered in fine woolen hairs. It certainly seemed a likely abode for a sorceress, so they passed through a fence woven of ivy, ash limbs, and bone right up to the threshold of the restless house and knocked upon the door.”
“It was answered by a trio of witches- what else could they be? Identical sisters, save for their color. The first was as black as an arctic night; the second was as silver as moonlight on an endless plain of ice, and the last, as gold as the first light of the day’s breaking.”
“They heard out the tale of the sad pair, and agreed shortly to help, provided the two perform all the tasks set to them. For they had need of a strong back to perform distant errands for them, and a quick set of hands to help around the cottage. And so the princess and her stag-prince promised to take upon them any and all tasks set to them, in return for the chance for the cruse to be lifted, and the phoenix summoned.”
“Every morning the three would awake and rise from their beds as little children; by noon they were fine maidens, and when night fell they had again become the crones that the princess and her white deer had first encountered. Sleeping in stone during the full day as she did, the little princess only ever saw them as old, withered, wicked witches. But she had the white deer as day-time eyes for her, when he was about. For the witches kept him busy fulfilling his side of the bargain, and set tasks upon him one after another, like stones in a wall. The princess was no less burdened, and often barely had time to stretch her wings, let alone glide on the sweet breezes of the night.”
“They sent me out to challenge a man’s chivalry.” Spoke the white stag one eve. “I spent four days attempting to catch his attention before he finally deigned to notice me and give chase,” he sighed, sinking down in the hay next to the princess. Each time he returned, he would tell her of his travels.
“Then had me run for months, leading a pair of brothers to lead their people to a land promised to them, and they sent along a pair of white eagles, to make sure my steps were solid.” The princess petted his antlers.
“They painted my ears red and had me take dead men across a river of blood.” She fed him corn from her hand.
“They took me to my home to lead off a hunt. My father was among the hunters. He did not recognize me.” The princess wiped away his tears with the hem of her tunic. She too, would tell him of how she had spent her days, but felt her own chores of sweeping the cottage floor, preparing the evening’s porridge, and cutting wood for the fire were very dull by comparison, and hardly worth repeating every time. Still, it pleased him to hear it, and so she would always accede to his request to tell.
“One night, when the stag was well away and she was quite cold, alone in the straw, she crept up to the slumbering house and leaned against the warm stones of the fire-shaft. Half-sleeping although it was far from sunrise, the conversation she heard within shocked her back to attention. She pressed her nose to a crack in the siding, and peered within.”
“She could not believe what her eyes and ears were witness too! The Huntress who sought the hind stood in the middle of the room as the witches did their weaving, one spinning the fabric, one measuring, and one cutting. They agreed to give her the white deer to hitch up in lead to her chariot if she swore to drive them across the sky in it, as soon as they had exhausted the personal tasks they had need of him to perform.”
“The princess feared for the white deer with all her hurting heart, for over the last two years she had fallen quite thoroughly in love with him. Deeply distressed, she knew that if the wicked three thought nothing of breaking their simple oath to the stag then surely they had no intention to keep their pledge to her. But her work for them had not been blind, and she knew their weakness lay in the great oven of cold iron that they never could themselves touch, and in their love for their amulets and books of magic.”
“The next evening she gathered up the bits of magic, all throughout the night sneaking them into the middle of the oven, which was tall enough to walk into. When the witches sought their potions and charms and found them missing, they began to yowl aloud for her.”
“Foolish wench, where have you gone?”
“Where have you hidden away our grimoires?”
“Answer us now, or answer us later with only your tongue left to speak!”
From atop the house as it skittered and danced on its three legs, she called down the flu,
“Oh kind ladies, don’t put me in a pot! I am hiding in the oven with what I have taken.”
“So the darkest of the three draped a piece of silk over her hand, and threw open the door, and all three sprung inside to claim their property. They crooned over them, not at first realizing their mistake, until- oh! In through the window slipped the princess, who slammed the oven door and barred it shut with the iron arrow that had once pierced the legs of the white deer, and then she sat across the room and ate up all the porridge they had bade her to make for dinner.”
“The evil witches screamed at her, calling her names, and demanded she let them out.
But she refused.
And then they begged for her sympathy, pleaded for her to be kind, and save them.
But she wasn’t moved.
Finally, they offered her a boon, although it would cost them all their magic to do so. Better, they figured, to live without their witchery than to die with it.
And it was only then that the princess stood.”
“She made them swear on the their own heads, and on most holiest of relics, and on the blood of the moon itself that they would not betray her, and once they were so bound by promises that they might as well have been wrapped in iron chains the princess unbarred the door an let them out.”
“What is it that you want?”
“What is your heart’s true call?”
“What would you have us bestow for so high a cost?”
And just as the princess was about to answer, the White Deer entered the yard and she hung her head in shame- for she had herself sworn on her very heart to see him back to his true form, and they witches would only grant one wish.
“It is your choice alone,” intoned the three.
“And standing there, she realized she did not mind giving up her chance to return to the castle in the sky, as long as it meant the White Deer would be restored.”
“No sooner had she spoken than that there was a great *PTOOF!* and, the little house scrabbled away on it’s hooves with the evil witches inside, and when the dust cleared, instead of a white hind stood a prince.”
“A REAL prince?!” gasped the girl, breaking into her mother’s story.
“As real as any,” her mother chuckled.
“Was he handsome?”
“Oh, a more glorious male had never walked the land! He kept his great rack of antlers, and his fur remained as white as thistle-down, covering his new body from ear-tip to toe-tip.”
The girl smiled at that, and petted her own white fur. “Was he strong?”
“Strong enough to capture and hold a wild heart forever! Strong enough to never
break down and spit cruel words he did not mean. Strong enough to hold up a
hundred castles above the clouds, should he ever be needed to.”
“Was he smart?”
“Smart enough to know that being strong and handsome wouldn’t take him everywhere in life, darling.”
A frown narrowed the hatchling’s eyes.
“What about the castle, the one that touched the clouds? Did she ever find the Phoenix? Did she ever get back home?”
“No, my poppet. She didn’t. But you know what? She made a new home. And even though it wasn’t as fancy as the one in the sky, she loved it just as much because it was of her own making; hers and her Stag-Prince, who never left her side.”
The child was silent for a while, content to be rocked in her mother’s arms.
“I like that ending, momma.”
“Me too, my darling. Now, the sun is rising; time for sleep. Tomorrow is another night.”
“Will you tell me another story, then?”
“Perhaps you will write your own.”
The first light sheared over the horizon, and as the mother prepared to great the day, her child spoke again.
“Can it be about a Phoenix?”
“It can be about anything you want. Anything at all.”