A Christmas Fairytale for You

I wrote this story for you.

There once was a king who had three sons, the Prince of Was, the Prince of Is, and the Prince of Becoming.

One day he called them together and told them that he was growing old, but that his kingdom was too small for three sons. Indeed, it was a very little kingdom, as the sons knew. Each of them told their father that they had no expectations and would happily relinquish any inheritance if he left it to another. The king said that he was delighted to hear it, because the kingdom was really too small for even one son. And he had read it in the stars above the world that fate itself was in play, that the dark nights would turn to bright days, and that if his three sons stood by each other honor and treasure would be theirs.

Then he gave them gifts. To the Prince of Was, he gave a golden thread that whoever was bound by it would remember their happiest day and would not leave from that place. To the Prince of Is, he gave a silver trumpet that would make men charge fearlessly in time of war and men and women dance in time of peace. To the Prince of Becoming, he gave an egg. The Prince of Becoming asked if there was anything wondrous about that egg. The King told him that all eggs were wondrous, and this one was wondrous in the way of eggs, but only more so.

Then all the court and the men-at-arms and the people of the town came and cheered as the princes set forth. The Prince of Was wound the golden thread around each one briefly. The Prince of Is blew on his silver trumpet and all danced for joy. And the Prince of Becoming, at the edge of town, stood up in his stirrups and vowed that he and his brothers would return.

They then set forth, following the direction that the stars gave them. But after many perils and adventures they came to a place where there way was blocked. For a band of ogres and sundry villainous knights were beseiging a castle where three maidens lived. They were ravaging the land around, cutting down the orchards, burning the barns, fouling the houses, and preying on the people of that place, and the three maiden princesses in their tower wept, and so great was their weeping that it carved a gorge and the gorge was filled with a torrent of their tears such that no man could pass it.

Then the Prince of Is blew his horn and the three brothers charged and slew the foe without let or pause until all had fled or perished. Then they were faint and sore and weary. The Prince of Was wound his thread around the three and they were still and were able to rest, and the horrid fight they had just fought, full as it had been with dangers and horrors, now seemed to them to also have been a glorious thing, and they remembered happy days as boys playing together with their father and mother when she was still alive.

When they were fully rested, the Prince of Was unwound his thread and the Prince of Becoming said that the memories of boyhood recalled to his mind when they had played by a stream and he now had an idea of how they could build a bridge over the gorge and thereby re-unite the divided land, for surely their way laid across the gorge. This they did, with timber and stone and their own labor, until there was a bridge across the gorge and anyone could come and go. Then they came to the gates of the tower and sounded at the gates, but the maidens continued to weep, so they entered in without leave. There they chaffed the maidens, and showed them that the tragedy was over and their people returning to their homes and beginning the work of putting things right. And they did feats and told tales and jests to amuse the maidens and then embraced them, and the tears of the maidens ceased to flow and they wiped their eyes and returned to good humor. Then they vowed to follow those princely knights, but the Princes said the way was full of peril. Then the maidens said that the stars prophesied new fates and they would not be denied.

So off they set again on their journey, the three princes and the three maidens. Then they came to a great hill of stone where nothing grew. At the base of it they built booths for their maidens to rest while they climbed the hill, because at the height of it was where the Fates spun the destiny of the world and it was here that the Princes’ stars had led them.

Now down that hill of stone from the very top there flowed a river of money and a river of sharp steel swords, but no one could touch any of it unless the Fates decreed.

Without touching them, the Princes followed those rivers to the very top of the hill of stone where three old crones sat on their thrones weaving the fates of the world. The princes greeted them respectfully and the three Fates told them that now that they were here, the women would decide their fates. One of you will be a great ruler, they said, and the other two will languish, and we will weave rule into the one who gives us the best gift.

Then the Prince of Was showed them his golden thread and described its wonders and the happiness it had brought and preserved, but he said he would never give it to the crones unless his brothers could share his fate also. Then the crones snipped his thread and said his life would soon be forfeit.

Then the Prince of Is showed them his silver trumpet and described the great things it did, but he also said he would never give it to the crones unless his brothers could share his fate also. Then the crones snipped his thread too and said his life would soon be forfeit.

Then they chided the last prince and told him surely the fate was his if he gave them anything, even that insignificant egg he carried. But he told them that if he accepted that fate he would be forsworn and he cast the egg down at their feet.

When he did, the egg grew and cracked and opened and an infant of the stars was seen lying within it. Its radiance weakened the old women, and with their powers abated the Prince of Was was able to throw his thread around them and they were unable to move to do any more of their weaving. And the river of money turned to gold that anyone could dip into and drink his fill but could never spend. Then the Prince of Is blew his trumpet and the old Fates danced and danced in that place until their weaving and their looms were all shattered. And the river of swords turned into silver that anyone could dip into and drink his fill but could never spend. Then the pieces of the egg shell turned to fluffy white and became clouds and rained on that hill, and under that rain and under the radiance of the star child, the hill grew in an instant a forest of fir and spruce and holly and ivy and oak and mistletoe. The three Princes became the Lords of that place, where they built a castle. They married the maidens and had children of their own. The star child grew and took his place in the heavens, but in the mystery of the people of the stars, he also remained an infant, always present at the heart of the castle.

And from the place the Lords sallied out doing good work, fighting good wars, and winning the hearts of the people.

And they all lived happily ever after.