Chapter 23
MEANWHILE, IN THE REALM OF FAIRY....
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ELDER LIbrARIAN TO the Realm of Fairy Tales, now free of her babysitting duties to the coarse half-human teenage daughter of their Elf leader, Sarnak, eased into her library and pressed her wings back along the door.
Winfrey Soleil was a handful, and not just because of her human half.
She was unrefined, vulgar, and prideful.
.. things no self-respecting fairy called themself.
Winfrey was the sole reason the Tome—the magical collection of all the world’s Fairy Tales—had been shaken up in the first place.
Intentionally, nonetheless! Winfrey went through life like a bull, questioning why anything was anywhere and rearranging all to her whim.
Terrible, terrible trait. Why, one never knew moment to moment what to expect at that rate.
Beatrice gathered the giant Book in her arms and carried it to a nearby table, where she set it carefully down to inspect the inner damage.
She heard no heroine’s singing, but a male song did trail to her ears.
Was that a hero? Singing to his love? Interesting.
A brief flip through the pages showed all the titles were now askew, and characters had been flung into completely random stories.
Bella and the Bullfrog? Bullfrog? Was that The Frog Prince?
Braids and the Beast? She gasped. Rapunzel, tossed in with a monster?
Little Red Riding Hood all grown up and meeting Prince Charming?
Dear, oh dear.
This was not the way Fairy Tales were supposed to go!
Worry lines creased her brow. Beast could only be tamed by Beauty, correct?
And the Frog Prince... well, the original tale was rather violent, with the young princess slamming the frog into a wall to kill him and thereby breaking the curse.
After reflecting on Winfrey’s complaints about the blatant misogyny and violence that defined the original fairy tales, Beatrice found herself questioning why a frog prince would want to marry a child young enough to be upset that her ball fell into the water, anyway.
“No,” she chastised herself. “Those are the original tales. They are charming in their innocence.”
But Winfrey’s words still bothered her. Why was a frog prince preying on a child?
Cringe, she had called it.
Then Winfrey had brought up another point today: Why had none of the princes been given names? Beast did not have a name. Snow White’s prince did not have a name. Only Charming was so named, and who truly named their son Charming?
She’d said it was almost as if being royal meant they were automatically worthy of any woman of their choosing.
Of course they were worthy!
Weren’t they?
Winfrey had called it propaganda. Authorial input. Subversive programming to bend impressionable feminine minds.
Fiddle faddle!
Wasn’t it?
Beatrice Merriweather tapped her lips as she finished reading the first fumbled tale.
“Oh.” She liked it. It was fresh and unexpected.
It had a more realistic ending—one where the woman was an equal and not a prize to be won.
Bella was smart and strong, not at all the way most heroines were portrayed in the Tome she had spent her life protecting.
“But these aren’t the real Fairy Tales,” she mumbled to herself. “They can’t be.”
She flipped the page and began reading the next fumbled tale about Rapunzel and Beast, wondering if this one would be as unique and different as the first.
And then she wondered how...if... she was going to wrap her head around the fact she liked them?
“Winfrey, I fear you may have been onto something.”
And that terrified the sparkle right out of her.
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TO BE CONTINUED....