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princesssarisa · 27 days

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Characters ask: 12 dancing princesses

Favorite thing about them: The beautiful, romantic imagery of all the princesses venturing into a magical subterranean land where the trees are made of silver, gold, and diamonds, and then dancing through the night with mysterious handsome princes. I like the imagery better than the story itself.

Least favorite thing about them: That they let all the princes who try to discover their secret be beheaded. It's no wonder that retellings tend to omit this part and just have the failed princes either sent away in disgrace or imprisoned instead.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I like parties and music.

*I tend to be a freedom-seeker.

*I'm in no hurry to marry.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm not a very good dancer.

*I would never let even one man be beheaded just so I could attend secret parties, let alone many men.

*I don't have any sisters, let alone eleven.

Favorite line:

From the Faerie Tale Theatre version, these quotes from the eldest princess Jeanetta:

"I have no patience for hearts and flowers and young men who brag about this victory and that. There's more to life than romance."

“The man of my dreams is a prince among men.”

brOTP: Each other.

OTP: Well, I hope the eldest sister will be happy in her marriage to the soldier, and I hope the others eventually find the right princes.

nOTP: Their father.

Random headcanon: For the Faerie Tale Theatre version, where all the characters are more sympathetic than in the Grimms' tale, I like @ariel-seagull-wings' headcanon that the princesses' parents were Cinderella and her Prince, now King. The eldest princess looks especially like their mother – since in this version she's played by Lesley Ann Warren, the 1965 Rodgers and Hammerstein Cinderella – and they've all inherited her love of ballroom dancing. But since Cinderella died, her grieving husband has become overprotective of his daughters, leading to the plot.

Unpopular opinion: I don't mind the fact that this tale is so rarely adapted, because it's not a particular favorite of mine, mainly because the ending falls flat. We never learn who the mysterious dancing princes were; there's just a vague statement at the end implying that they're under a curse, and that it's extended as their punishment for having danced with the princesses, but with no explanation of who cursed them or how they suffer from it. The princesses never redeem themselves for having caused so many men's deaths – at least in other stories with similar plot points, like Turandot, the princess has a transformative "learning to love" moment which is missing here. The eldest princess is married to the soldier as his reward, with no choice for her and no sense of romance, and this is portrayed as a happy ending, even though she and her sisters were willing to kill him rather than be forced to marry him.

So far, every adaptation I've seen has been an improvement, IMHO. First and foremost by removing the "every man who fails to learn the princesses' secret is beheaded" plot point, secondly by giving the soldier an actual romance arc with the eldest princess, and thirdly by changing the ending or at least giving it more depth. My introduction to the story was the anime Grimm's Fairy Tale Classics, where the princes turn out to be disguised demons luring the princesses to their doom, and the soldier fights them off and helps the princesses escape, earning the eldest princess's love by doing so. That twist might be melodramatic, but at least it gives the story a proper climax and emotional payoff. Then there's the Faerie Tale Theatre version, where the princes are dream figures created by the princesses in a magic ritual, and where the princesses' nightly outings are sympathetic, because their overprotective father needs to learn to let them grow up, go dancing, and meet young men in their own world. That's a good alternative too. (I don't have anything to say about the Barbie version because I've never seen it.) Basically, I think it's a story with great potential, but which needs adaptation expansion.

Song I associate with them: None.

Favorite picture of them:

This illustration by Elenore Abbott:

This illustration by Kay Nielsen:

These illustrations by Erroll Le Cain:

This illustration by P.J. Lynch:

These illustrations by Ruth Sanderson:

These illustrations by Kinuko Craft:

#character ask #the twelve dancing princesses #the shoes that were danced to pieces #fairy tale #ask game #fictional characters #fictional character ask

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bookshelf-in-progress · 3 months

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What the hey. I'll ask for some feedback right here on the blog.

I haven't touched my "Twelve Dancing Princesses" retelling in a while because I'm unsure about the style. When I was brainstorming a list of retelling possibilities, the first line of this one jumped out at me and made me start writing in a non-traditional point-of-view. I like the intimacy of it, but the story started expanding into more detail than I initially intended, so I'm not sure if it serves the story or just makes it more confusing. If you stumbled on a story written like this unawares, would it still make sense, etc.?

So I'm posting the first couple of scenes (2,400 words) to give you a taste of what it would be. It's still pretty rough, so there are some things about character and plot that don't make complete sense, but I could use some general feedback about readability. Is it worth continuing in this way or should I overhaul it to something more traditional? Is the story worth continuing at all? And so on.

(FYI: This is a retelling of the French version of the fairy tale, popularized by Andrew Lang, so all unique details come from that version).

Unseen: A Retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses

We go to the same garden every day, but you never see me. Why should you? You are the Princess Sonatina, youngest daughter of the greatest king on five continents, while I am only a gardener's assistant, with not even a surname of my own, except one that was given to me half as a taunt for my daydreaming ways. If you were ever to ask, I would tell you I answer to Michael Stargazer--but you never will think to ask, and I will never presume to speak.

Instead, I work silently in the gardens, while you wander past with your sisters--eleven of them, all unsurpassed in beauty of face and form and voice--laughing and chatting and singing snatches of songs. You are, all of you, more beautiful and vibrant than any of the flowers I tend, and I feel more alive just being near you.

Then the day comes when your morning songs are silent. You drag weary feet through the gardens, look blankly at the beauties of the world, lounge wearily along the edges of fountains and atop retaining walls. The rumor comes that every night, you are--all of you--wearing through your shoes.

Were I a prince, I would think no quest too perilous to save you from such sickness. I would climb a million trees in search of golden apples, cross storm-filled oceans in search of the Water of Life, work a dozen years at impossible tasks to find the key to ending your curse.

But I'm only a gardener, and nobody's son, so it falls to those with name and fortune to try their hands at saving you. The king has vowed that the man who finds the secret of where you go at night will win your hand in marriage, and there are many who are willing and worthy to try.

They are wonderful men--strong and handsome, noble and brave, with royal titles, vast holdings, great fortunes, and skills and talents that a simple gardener could never match. Any one of them would make a fine husband for a princess. Yet all of them, to a man, disappear within a day of taking up their task.

The rumors turn darker then, casting you not as victims but villains, luring men to their deaths with some dark magic of your own. Those who say such things did not see you in the gardens, or that would know that not one of you is capable of anything near what they accuse you of. Unfortunately, no one will ask a garden lad's thoughts, and I cannot speak unbidden unless I have proof.

So I go to the gardens and find two tiny rose trees. The head gardener tried to tear them out, in my first days at the palace, and I convinced him to let them live. I have watered them, fed them, saved them from disease and decay, told them stories of the princesses they serve. You have never seen them, I'm sure--you have never seen me--but though they are small, they are fine little plants, with dark, glossy green leaves, and little buds that seem always to be waiting for just the right time to bloom. An old woman told me once that they were wishing trees, planted in the earliest days of the kingdom's existence, and my service to them meant I had only to speak to them, and they would give me whatever I asked.

For myself, I want nothing--wishes too easily become the ruin of those who have them granted--but for you, I would dare all. I ask my two rose trees to make me not only unseen, but unseeable, able to follow wherever you go without detection.

The rose tree sprouts a single bloom, its petals so white and delicate they are almost transparent. When I pluck it from the bush, I disappear from sight. I place it in my buttonhole and move about the gardens, unseen by all who cross my path, even in the brightest sun.

That night, I follow you into the bedroom you share with your sisters, and I hide beneath the largest bed while the room above fills with the sounds of rustling dresses, clinking jewels, and girlish whispers. At last, your eldest sister Aria declares you dressed to perfection and calls for silence.

I creep out from under the bed and find you and your sisters dressed in ballroom finery--silks and satins and twelve pairs of perfectly-mended dancing shoes. I take my place just behind you, and find you more beautiful than ever in this moonlit room.

Aria pulls aside a tapestry, and the blank stone wall suddenly becomes an open doorway leading to a torchlit staircase. You all rush through in single file. I keep close at your heels, afraid that I'll be left behind unseen if I give the door a chance to close.

Aria stands back to hold open the tapestry. I rush past where she stands, afraid she'll follow too close and crash into my unseen form. In doing so, I trod too close to your skirt, and the fabric tears beneath my foot as you take your first steps down the stairs.

You shriek and grab hold of Lyra, standing just before you on the stairs. "Someone stood on my skirt!" you scream.

I hold myself flat against the damp stone wall, heart pounding so fast that I'm certain you hear me.

Aria breezes down the staircase, head held high, the crown princess rolling her eyes at her foolish juniors. "Don't be silly, Tina," Aria says. "I was nowhere near you on the stairs."

You protest that you felt someone on your skirt, but your cries for belief are drowned out by eleven dissenting voices, and they all continue down the staircase. You go only reluctantly, looking back at me--right through me--a thousand times as you go forth. Were it not for the weight of my mission, I would cast off the rose in the hope of a single moment when our eyes could truly meet.

After what seems like a million stairs, we emerge into an open clearing that would look like the outdoors if there was any sight of sky above. Trees tower over us with drops of silver on their branches, like rain upon the leaves. Further down the path is a gold-spattered orchard, each precious drop catching the soft white light that comes from I know not where. Even further beyond is a forest full of diamonds, every stone flashing rainbows that remind me of the fire in your eyes.

The forests are strange, but also strangely unsurprising--as though they've always been here, but simply unseen. Your sisters whisper of the night that this place was wished into existence--a place where they might revel in pure beauty and joy, away from the weighty eyes of the watchful world. But the forest, it seems, is only a prelude--the true marvel is far ahead. We emerge onto the shores of a shimmering lake--so vast, so deep, and so darkly blue that I can see neither the bottom nor the opposite shore. On an island in its center stands a castle so magnificent that it makes your father's palace seem like a paper toy. Its white, sculpted spires glitter with gems in a thousand colors, every brick spangled with precious stones. Its windows hold wonders caught in flawless stained glass. Music sweeter than any I've ever heard pours out its open doors, and the light from within forms a shining path across the lake--upon which float twelve sleek obsidian-colored boats.

Each boat has a boatman who rows swiftly toward the shore, and as they approach, I find that I know all the faces. Every one of these men is a prince who failed at finding your secret--or rather, they found it, and did not return. They are dressed in silks and velvets unlike any I've seen in the outer world, too rich for comprehension. As they slide up to the shore and each offer a place to one of you girls, they wear smiles that shine as bright as your own--but there is also something empty in their eyes.

You, as the youngest, take your place in the very last boat of all, piloted by a king's younger son whose sires have ruled half a continent for centuries. He smiles and bows as he takes you by the hand. The way your eyes light up make me wonder if I've seen what you look like in love.

The prince rows with arms strengthened by a warrior's skill--I doubt he's ever held a shovel in his life--but the other boats still outpace us by far.

"Why are you so slow tonight?" you ask him, half teasing, but with a trace of true annoyance.

"The boat is heavy," he says, "and I know not why."

You glance backward, toward where I sit in the stern, and again, I half-wish you could see me. But I let out a sigh of relief when you turn your eyes back toward the castle and give no further thought to unknowable truths.

We disembark on a dock just beneath the castle entrance, and in moments we are inside the palace of enchantment itself. This is a ballroom beyond what I could imagine--floors of marble streaked with gold and silver, towering windows displaying fantastical birds and beasts, spidery silver chandeliers holding thousands of brightly-lit candles, and at the far end of the room, tables tottering beneath food enough to feed an army, and half a nation besides.

But this splendor is nothing compared to the beauty of the music. It is like a living thing--vibrant, rapturous, all-consuming, pulling all into it like a roaring, flowing river, so the moment one steps through the door, there is nothing one can do but dance. Your prince pulls you into his arms, and your sisters' princes do the same, and soon you are swirling through that wondrous room, beauty and motion and life all brought to their fullness and put into perfect order.

All along the edges of that room are other faces--other princes who've failed at your father's quest--and they all take their turn in the dance. If I thought you alive in the gardens, you are a thousand times more vibrant now, laughing and dancing so you glow with pure joy. These princes are your perfect partners, matching you with every step, reflecting the glow that you bring to the room. If I ever thought that I could take a place beside them, maybe win your father's wager and claim a princess for my bride, that spark is snuffed by the brightness of your blaze. You are ethereal, almost angelic, and could never be happy with one whose hands are stained from working with the common, solid Earth.

While the princes take their turns, you and your sisters dance without ceasing, and I no longer wonder how you could wear through your shoes in a single night. Those shoes are little more than tatters by the time the last note of the last dance plays, and the twelve of you trudge toward the boats to reach bed. Your princes are silent as they row the boats to the forested shore, and you, Sonantina, do not say a word about his slowness.

When you reach the banks, the prince bids you farewell, then all twelve of them row back to the palace, choosing to stay in the splendor rather than return to the pressures of their ordinary lives. After what I have seen, I cannot blame them for their choice.

But you and your sisters choose to return to your father. You trudge through the diamond, then gold, then silver-speckled forests, and as your sisters file one-by-one up the staircase, I realize that none of this fantastic tale will have a ring of truth unless I have something to bring as proof. I reach toward the nearest tree and snap off a slender branch. It disappears from sight as soon as I touch it to my clothes, but the sound of its breaking rings through that silent wood like a gunshot.

You jump at the sound, and are suddenly wide, wide awake.

"What was that?" you ask your sister.

Aria once again rolls her eyes. "Only an owl," she says. "You know it roosts in the castle at night."

The explanation does not please you, I can tell, but having no other, you fall silent and leave the silver woods behind.

When you are all safely asleep in bed, I slip unseen through the door and make my way invisibly to my small cot in the servants' quarters. When I lay on my bunk, I take off the rose, and my face reappears in the reflection off the washing bowl. I look as I did before I left, though infinitely wearier, and perhaps--though it might only be fancy--I carry something in my eyes of the enchantment of the night.

In my hands sits the branch I broke, its leaves as green, its silver dewdrops as solid, as they were in that fantastical land. I imagine myself taking it to the king at dawn, having triumphed where the sons of kings and emperors have failed.

Then I imagine the you and your sisters standing by. In a horrible flash, the daydream shatters, and I see myself for what I am--a sneak and a spook, who crept uninvited into a strange woman's room to steal evidence that would cut her off completely from the place she loves most in the world. If I have a role in this tale, it is as the villain, not the hero. I have triumphed in discovering the secret, but if I have any love in my heart for you, I cannot think of speaking.

After a short hour's sleep, I awake with the dawn, but I do not go to the king with what I've found.

Instead, I go to the head gardener and get myself assigned the task of bringing the twelve princesses their morning bouquets. I gather careful handfuls of daisies and larkspur and bind them together with handfuls of greenery. I hand them to your sisters one by one as they come bleary-eyed to your bedroom door. When you come to me, last of all, I make sure that your bouquet contains a single silver-spangled branch.

Then, at last, you see me.

#adventures in writing #fairy tale retellings #the twelve dancing princesses

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mote-historie · 10 months

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Kay Nielsen, The Twelve Dancing Princesses, illustration from, In Powder and Crinoline: Old Fairy Tales, retold by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, pub.1913.

Don't drink! cried out the little Princess, springing to her feet; "I would rather marry a gardener!"

#kay nielsen #1913 #the twelve dancing princesses #colour litho #in powder and crinoline #old fairy tales #antique #illustration #princesses #Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch #painting #fairy tales #dancing pincesses #tales

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strrymko · 1 year

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Meet Clarabelle! My Jack Horner x OC because I’m falling for this purple asshole so hard.. haha I wrote some info about her under the cut if you’re interested in reading! (Will make more posts abt her to add more lore.. hehe)

Some information about Clarabelle

Clarabelle is one of twelve sisters from the fairytale “The Twelve Dancing Princesses”. She is the fourth eldest sister and considered the most airheaded, however Clarabelle is very friendly to all she meets regardless of status.

Because nobody remembers or bothers to learn the twelve dancing princesses names, Clarabelle can easily disguise herself as someone else without being recognized. This is beneficial to her because she has more time to focus on herself and her hobbies.

Clarabelle enjoys dancing (obviously), singing, and cooking/baking! She can make a mean stew but her baking skills are lacking.. Many of Jack’s bakers wonder why he even had her work for the company.

Since Clarabelle burns pie crust left and right, Jack tells her she can work in advertising instead.. but she is required to wear a different uniform.. to you know.. attract paying customers.

Surprisingly, Clarabelle’s upbeat attitude and totally not because of her uniform brings in more sales to Horner’s pie company. Some think she’s really good at faking loving her job, but in reality she genuinely enjoys it.

“Come try Horner pies! They’re the best treat that can’t be beat!” :P

Even though Jack doesn’t really need more sales (Seriously, he’s already super wealthy.) he finds it amusing to see so many people buy his pastries only because his sales girl is so cute.

Also, he doesn’t know why she hasn’t noticed his pie company is a cover up for his crimes. He knows for a fact that she’s seen his henchmen carrying off a body or two.. or the maids cleaning up blood in the pantry.

Clarabelle is just too focused on doing a good job for her boss. And totally not because she finds him handsome or anything..

Eventually, Jack grows bored sending Clarabelle off in the village with two henchmen (He wouldn’t let any inferior peasants even think of fraternizing with her!) and decides to keep her close by his side for awhile within the factory walls.

Clarabelle is more than thrilled to be closer to her boss. When they’re seen together outside his office, she’s practically beaming in the grim factory and trying to taste all the pies.

“Look, boss! You got another big catering order! Can I help with the tasting?”

Jack eventually asks her to stop calling him boss, and just “Jack”.. because he likes hearing his name roll off her tongue.

“I already told you to stop calling me ‘boss’. It’s just Jack!”

Months pass and Jack can’t handle the way Clarabelle just looks so cute selling his pies.. that he starts to drop more than subtle hints on courting her. Unfortunately, because she’s so ditsy, it takes her forever to realize.

He literally leaves a gilded rose preserved in magic dust inside her house with a note attached-

“My darling, if I were the moon, I would like you to be my brightness. - J

She is so flattered but doesn’t know what “J” means..

A week passes and Clarabelle doesn’t understand why Jack has been so moody lately.. Before she can ask him he tells her he has a private meeting and expects his office to be cleaned before he gets back.

As Clarabelle picks up different papers Jack as signed, she notices his initials on a few of them and is in awe with how pretty his handwriting is.

Then it dawns on her.. The “J” on her anonymous love note matches Jack Horner’s handwriting. Oh.

Oh..

“How come you’re so dense, Clarabelle?!”

When Jack gets back, he’s in for a surprise kiss and a million apologies for not knowing the letter was from him.. and that she’ll do better to understand cues in the future.

I’m sorry if this is a lot NVDSBVHFDS I’m just writing down my ideas hehe.

#Big Jack Horner #original character #puss in boots oc #puss in boots: the last wish #jack horner #my art #the twelve dancing princesses #im a simp what can i say #fan oc #dreamworks

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fictionadventurer · 1 year

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I'm limiting the poll to these four, because they're all fairly traditional fantasy retellings that often serve as a reader's first introduction to retellings. They're all books that can top someone's personal list, and I suspect the answer says a lot about your approach to retellings.

#polls #fairy tale retellings #fairy tales #ella enchanted #the goose girl #beauty #beauty and the beast #cinderella #princess of the midnight ball #the twelve dancing princesses

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barbie-movies-tournament · 9 months

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Round 2A

#barbie #barbie movies #barbie movie tournament #tumblr polls #tournament #tournament poll #barbie fairytopia mermaidia #fairytopia mermaidia #barbie mermaidia #barbie in the 12 dancing princesses #barbie in the twelve dancing princesses #the twelve dancing princesses #the 12 dancing princesses

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heyits-zedo · 29 days

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Barbie Must Have Bullshit Her Resume

By:zedo

Ok, so we all know Barbie as the do-all girl, what hasn't she done? (The answer to that is surprisingly alot)

But the real question is, how has she managed to accomplish so much by the age of 65? Well I'm here to tell you she fuckibg lied. I did the math, I compiled a list of jobs and hobbies she has had(albeit incomplete) and its impossible.

Below is a compiled list of (most of) barbies jobs that require training/schooling:

Fashion designer- 3 years

Nurse-2 years(minimum)

Astronaut-10 years(6 years schooling, 2 years experience, 2 years bt)

Fashion editor-4 years

Fashion model-1 year

Teacher- 5 years

Veterinarian-4 years

Travel agent- 4 years roughly

Business exectuive- 3 years

Surgeon- 4 years school + 5 year residency

Optometrist- 8 years

Dentist- 8 years

Pediatric doctor-4 years

Pilot-9 month's

In the air force(military pilot)-4 years

Detective-4 years

Makeuo artist/hair stylist- 1 year

Chef- 3 years

Architect-3 years

Firefighter-2 years

Olympic skiier and gymnast,Figure skater -(1 years worth of trianing)

Train conductors - 1 year

Movie producer- 4 years

Computer engineer- 4 years

Marine bilogist- 6 year

Palentologist- 6 years

Zookeeper- 6 years

Baker-3 years

Film director - 4 years

Game developer- 4 years

Scientist(chemist)-4 years

Robotic engineer- 7 years

Astrophysisit- 6 years

Aircraft engineer- 7 years

Entomologist- 4 years

Judge- 10 years

Interior designer - 4 years

Cinservation scientist- 5 years

Microbiologist - 4 years

Flight attendant-10 weeks

Pet groomer-12 weeks

Police officer- 6 months

(While compiling this list, I also chose the bare minimum required amount of schooling for each job, but knowing Barbie, she would not have done the bare minimum)

If you compile the numbers, you reach a bare minimum of 203 years of school/training.

So Barbie could not have possibly gone to school for every job she has had, so she must have bullshit a few things somewhere, as this does not include the time she may have worked in these jobs once finally getting to that point.

This also leaves the question of how does she have time for her long list of hobbies, such as:

Tennis

Was also a rock star and rapper

Unicef ambassador

Actress

Scuba diver

Circus performer

Superhero

Baseball

Matador/bull fighter

Bowling

?RAN FOR PRESIDENT?

Cheerleading

Cabaret dancer

Artist

Soccer coach

Rides horses

Race car driver

Snow boards

Track and feild

Magician

Animal rescue

Martial arts

Basket ball

Beekeeping

Farming

Golfing

Boxing

Hockey

Tooth fairy

Volleyball

Crime??(I'm serious she was a burglar)

So in reality, Barbie is a liar and a fake.

#barbie #what a fucking liar #barbie movie #the princess and the pauper #barbie life in the dreamhouse #life in the dreamhouse #the twelve dancing princesses #greta gerwig #greta gerwing barbie #barbie committed fraud

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stingrayextraordinaire · 2 years

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Barbie Movie Moodboards // Genevieve

I wish I had some music!

#genevieve #princess genevieve #barbie #barbie movies #barbie movie moodboards #barbie and the twelve dancing princesses #the twelve dancing princesses #characters #character moodboards #moodboards #aesthetics #my moodboards #my edits #princesscore #ballet #balletcore #royaltycore

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enchantedbook · 1 year

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'The Twelve Dancing Princess' by Niroot (Natee) Puttapipat

#natee puttapipat #the twelve dancing princesses #fairytale #Illustration #grimm brothers

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aliteraryprincess · 2 months

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The Twelve Dancing Princesses // The Night Dance by Suzanne Weyn

There was once upon a time a King who had twelve daughters, each one more beautiful than the other. They all slept together in one chamber, in which their beds stood side by side, and every night when they were in them the King locked the door, and bolted it. But in the morning when he unlocked the door, he saw that their shoes were worn out with dancing, and no one could find out how that had come to pass.

#booklr #book photography #the night dance #suzanne weyn #the twelve dancing princesses #books

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x-lulu · 3 months

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suddenly sparkling bright, making a magical light you will, sisters are there by your side, love will be your guide

barbie in the twelve dancing princesses [ 2006 ]

#aesthetic #edits #moodboards #mine #barbie #filmedit #barbieedit #barbie in the twelve dancing princesses #barbie in the 12 dancing princesses #the twelve dancing princesses #the 12 dancing princesses #mhwyb

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princesssarisa · 25 days

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I wonder… What are the meaning names of the 12 dancing princesses?

Well, they have different names in different adaptations.

Let's look at the Faerie Tale Theatre version, The Dancing Princesses, where there are only six princesses, and where their names all end in "etta," which means "little":

Jeanetta: "God is gracious."

Coretta: "Maiden" or "heart."

Dinetta: "Judged" or "religion."

Musetta: "Muse" or "bagpipe."

Wanetta: An Anglicized form of "Juanita," which means "God is gracious."

Loretta: "Laurel."

Then there's the Grimm's Fairy Tale Classics anime adaptation, The Worn-Out Dancing Shoes, where there are only three princesses:

Genevieve: "Of the race of woman," "woman of the house," or "white wave."

Julia: "Youthful."

Louise: "Famous in battle."

Now let's look at the Barbie version, where there are twelve princesses, named alphabetically:

Ashlyn: Either an Anglicized form of "Aisling," meaning "dream" or "vision," or a form of "Ashley," meaning "ash tree clearing."

Blair: "Field."

Courtney: "Short nose."

Delia: "Of Delos" or "noble."

Edeline: "Noble."

Fallon: "Leader."

Genevieve: "Of the race of woman," "woman of the house," or "white wave."

Hadley: "Heather field."

Isla: "Island."

Janessa: "God is gracious."

Kathleen: "Far off" or "pure."

Lacey: "Of Lassy" (a town in Normandy) or "resembling or trimmed with lace."

Then there's Jessica Day George's novel Princess of the Midnight Ball, which I haven't read yet but which I'd like to because I have read and loved some of George's other books. In that retelling, the princesses are all named after flowers: Rose, Lily, Jonquil, Hyacinth, Violet, Daisy, Poppy, Iris, Lilac, Orchid, Pansy, and Petunia.

#the twelve dancing princesses #fairy tale #name meanings

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bookshelf-in-progress · 3 months

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Well, I'm running out of time to have a Valentine's retelling ready, so although I'm losing faith in this story by the minute, let's just keep moving forward with this experiment.

After Part One and Part Two, here's Part Three--the remaining 1,300 words of the draft I have so far. Feedback appreciated--it doesn't have to be in-depth, just general comments about if it makes sense/is readable/any points of confusion would be helpful.

Part Three

On the third day, you and your sisters return to the garden in the company of a prince--yet another who has taken up your father's impossible task. To spare you the horror of seeing me, I keep the white rose in my buttonhole and invisibly tend the wishing trees while you entertain the prince nearby.

Prince Ivan is sterner, more solemn than some of the others. Even I, a lowly gardener, have heard tales of his valor in battle. A thick saber-scar runs from his temple to his chin. He knows the danger he has placed himself in and faces it without flinching. There is something in his eyes that makes me think he welcomes it.

As I watch him, I wonder how he will fare in his quest. Will he reveal your secret or remain in the enchanted world with all the others? For the first time, I question the fate of those other princes. I have assumed they remained by choice, but in such a magical place, can first impressions ever be trusted? For their sake, as well as yours, I must follow you to the dance one more time.

When I reach your chamber in the evening, Prince Ivan is already among you. The twins, Melody and Harmony, focus on flattering him while your sisters tie on the last of their ribbons, but his eyes are for the dark-haired, sweet-tempered Princess Melisma, and I think she does not dislike the attention.

As you descend the staircase--Melody and Harmony taking the lead with Prince Ivan--Princess Aria keeps Melisma at the end of the line to scold her.

"You mustn't encourage him," Aria says. "It might give him reason to follow us back home."

"He is so brave," Melisma says, "and so gentle. Would it be so terrible for me to have him as a husband?"

"If he weds you, he will take you to the Northlands, and we shall never see you again. Is that the life you want?"

Melisma blushes. "No," she whispers.

"Then let him drink," Aria says in a low tone. "He shall be here always, for you to dance with as much as you like. He will be the same brave and gentle prince, but will never take you away from us."

That night at the dance, there is a banquet in honor of the new guest. The tables pile high with delicacies I cannot name, and silent, ghostly servants keep your plates and goblets constantly filled. Prince Ivan looks younger, almost childlike, as he takes in the wonders, and his eyes have lost their haunted look.

"Such a wondrous place!" he breathlessly declares. "All beauty and joy! No sorrow, no politics, no battle."

Aria, seated at his right hand, plies him with red wine, and leads him to speak upon the war he won such honors in. He served with valor and is proud of protecting his people, but he has lost friends and brothers, is haunted by the fields strewn with the bodies of those who died too young.

"I should not speak of such things," Ivan says, putting down another empty goblet. "They are better forgotten."

"Do you not cherish some memories?" Aria asks.

"If I could forget every moment of it, I would," Ivan declares, "and stay always in this dance.

Aria smiles, then takes a golden goblet--the largest and most ornate in the room--from a servant standing at her shoulder. "You may do so," Aria says, "if you only drink this elixir. You shall have no regrets. No duties. No memories of battle. Only the beauties of this world."

Ivan looks to Melisma, seated at his left hand. She squeezes his scarred fingers in her long, delicate ones. "I shall come every night," she says softly.

Ivan takes the goblet from Aria's hand. His face holds the grim determination of a soldier, and the innocent bravery of a child hoping a bitter tonic will bring relief from pain. He drains the cup to its dregs.

When Aria takes the empty goblet, the prince is transformed. His eyes hold the same light of joy as all the other princes, but the honorable nobility of his bearing has drained away, leaving behind an empty imitation, all paper and gold leaf with nothing solid behind. For the rest of the night, he dances every dance with Princess Melisma. She is all joy when she looks in his face, but every time she turns away, she seems close to bursting into tears.

For the rest of the night, I cannot enter into the enchantment of the dance. I see only those princes, and wonder who they were before their will was drained away. I see your sisters dancing, each with one partner more than all others, and wonder if they too renounced marriage to someone they admired for the sake of this endless courtship. I travel across the lake in Aria's boat instead of yours, and as her prince hands her off to shore, I see even she seems on the point of asking him to come with her, before dropping his hand and turning resolutely to the diamond forest.

When you alight from your prince's boat, I see no similar love or regret in your eyes. At first I am relieved, and then my anger flares at your heartlessness. I snap off a diamond-spangled branch so fiercely that the sound of its breaking makes your every sister jump.

They glance in all directions, bewildered to know the source of the sound. You look directly toward me, your face burning with shame. Though I remain invisible, I know you feel me standing at your shoulder.

"What was that?" Melody shrieks in alarm.

"My guardian angel," is all you say, and though your sisters pelt you with questions all the way through the forests and up the staircase, you do not say another word.

When I leave your room, part of me wants to run to the king and tell all, but I cannot let judgement fall upon you without giving you a chance to speak for yourself. The diamond-spangled branch I place in your bouquet is both an accusation and an offer of parley.

You come to me--though you do not know it--when I am tending to the wishing trees, in the most secluded corner of the garden. Your eyes are downcast, your face red. "You have seen," you say.

I say, "You have witnessed every one and said nothing. I want to know how you can defend yourself."

The innocent confusion in your eyes makes me repent of every crime I imputed to you. "What is there to defend?" you ask. "Every prince chooses to drink. We cannot deny them their choice."

"Do they know what it makes them?" I ask.

"If they do, they don't care," you say.

"Because they have been made incapable of caring for anything but the dance."

"Would you send Ivan back to his wars?" you ask. "Edmund to his awful father? Kristoff to his plague-filled land? They all have horrors they are escaping. It would be cruel to make them remember all the sorrows they were so desperate to forget."

The things that seemed so simple when I stood invisibly at your shoulder are more muddled now that you can look me clear in the face. There is one place in the world untouched by sorrow or strife--can I judge those who have fled for refuge there?

"You have had your wishes granted," you say softly. "Would you deny all of us ours?"

Looking into your innocent, imploring face, I find that I cannot. Your silence, I see now, is not heartlessness, but compassion. Loyalty to your sisters who wish to remain together. Pity for those princes who can find no other peace from their sorrows. There is no simple answer to the riddle that has entangled us all.

"I will not speak," I say, "if you do not wish it."

"Will you follow us again?" you ask.

"I do not know," I say. I don't know if I can bear it.

#fairy tale retellings #the twelve dancing princesses

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