Les Cygnes

You see, if this were one of those other fairy tales, where everything falls neatly into place, the princess returns home and good triumphs over evil, well then I would begin here, like this:

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young princess.

She lived in a kingdom far away with her father and her eleven brothers, and she had everything she had ever wanted.

This did not mean a mother, but she felt no need for one. Her father, her brothers, her nanny, old wet nurse and numerous governesses were more than enough.

My brothers often told me about my mother.

She was as kind as I, although more patient, and as beautiful as I, although we looked nothing alike.

Her cheeks held roses more beautiful than those found in any garden, and her hair- always perfectly coiffed- had the exact same lustre and tone as the gold tablets my brother wrote their lessons on. And her eyes, they said, were the richest, clearest blue in the world.

But I did not feel guilty for taking her from them. They all said they loved me too much.

When I was older, although not old enough to understand the sacrifice, my father told me they had been given a choice.

It would be my life, or it would be hers. They both, without hesitation, picked me.

We led a charmed life in those days, my brothers and I. If things had been allowed to continue, it would not have been my story, it would have been that of my wet nurse, a beautiful women who was hopelessly in love with my father.

But one thing was missing from our story book life, the one thing every tale needs to be a fairy tale.

You are guessing?

You are probably right.

And so into our world of embroidered cloth and gold and diamonds and hand illustrated books came the most important thing, the force of evil.

Into our lives came our very own wicked witch.