by Kylee Kosoff
Not Your Average Princess
Kylee K Kosoff
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright 2020 by Kylee K Kosoff
Cover art copy right 2020 by Kylee K Kosoff
Cover copyright 2020 by Kylee K Kosoff
The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes). Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
First Edition: 2020
Printed in the United States.
WHO WRITES THE STORY?
The Hero writes the story.
The Villain dies.
What you read is biased;
It was written from one side.
What you read may be a lie—
Created to make the winner
Look like the hero.
The villain, you have always hated, may have been the victim.
The hero that you adore may have been the true villain.
Stories are written by the winner;
No one wants to write themselves as the villain.
—Tabitha Durant
Fairy Tales a History
King Thrushbeard and the Swan Princess
Prince James
Prince Peter
Prince Charming and Cinderella
Prince Jacque
T. H. Beast and Belle
Prince Philippe
Princess Bella
Prince Eric and Ariel
Princess Hali
Prince Pon de Nom and Snow White
Princess Morgana
Eugene Fitzherbert and Rapunzel
Prince Richard
Listed above are the Grim’s original fairy tale kings and queens and their direct descendants up to the second child:
Those crossed out are either disowned or deceased princes and princesses.
Prince James was banished for crimes against his brother. Princess Pearl was lost and presumed dead. Morgana was banished due to a terrible curse. It was due partly to these tragedies that the Book was torn in half. To keep us and them apart. To protect our hard-earned happy endings. And to ensure the safety of our children.
Perhaps, Wesley was correct when he said, “Life is pain, highness.”
—Queen Ariel
The Dark History of Fairy Tales
by Author Unknown
1. Jasmine was in a relationship with a dirty, homeless boy named Aladdin.
2. Snow White lived alone with seven men.
3. Pinocchio was a liar.
4. Robin Hood was a thief.
5. Tarzan walked around naked.
6. A stranger kissed Sleeping Beauty, and she married him.
7. Cinderella lied and sneaked out at night to attend a party.
8. Peter Pan kidnapped children.
9. Rapunzel let a guy climb her hair to get into her bedroom.
10. Goldilocks trespassed and vandalized.
11. Red Riding Hood was an accomplice in the Wolf's murder.
12. Hansel and Gretel ate too much candy.
13. Dorothy murdered two witches.
Chapter 1: I Lose My Shoe
"There’s a grain of truth in every fairy tale.”
—Andrzej Sapkowski
HENRI
“Stupid gargoyles.” I frowned at the guck on the bottom of my shoe.
Gargoyle poo is acidic, smelly, and will stain the blackest of hearts.
“Seriously, I just got these boots!” I quickly shook off my brand-new Night at the Ball glass-leather boot that had come straight from Cinderella's Shoe Boutique.
It was almost impossible to get them on this side of the book! They had to be smuggled from the United States of Happily Ever After through the Grim Forest which was filled with lions, tigers, and bears—oh my! Pirated across the Jinxed Sea where the Jolly Roger sails, krakens attack, and mermaids sunbathe. Shipped on Dragon Express over the Beanstalk through the giant realm. Gargoyles had to take the package through the volcanoes which explode at every twist and turn. Flying Monkeys dropped packages into the Twisted Valley where the tornadoes blow Dorothy’s house far, far away every single day. If you’re lucky one of the tornadoes will blow your package of brand-new shoes to the wolf who will huff and puff and finally blow it to you.
Like I said, it’s almost impossible to get imported shoes.
I watched mournfully as the poo ate my priceless boot. It truly is a tragic affair when a favorite pair of shoes is so callously destroyed.
Sometimes, it is way too easy to hate the dark tunnels of the Wicked Mountains.
My family and I live in the old mines that the seven dwarves used to excavate before they went into the cleaning business with Snow White. Other than the gargoyles, bats, dragons, and eternal darkness—the caves make a wonderful home.
The Wicked Mountains are home to all of the infamous villains from every fairy tale ever written.
All the fairy tales you think you know are false.
Snow White’s stepmother just wanted Snow to eat one apple instead of all the junk food she’d been eating.
All Cinderella’s stepmother wanted was for Cinderella to do some chores.
Maleficent didn’t mean a hundred years sleep she just meant that Sleeping Beauty needed some beauty sleep.
Rapunzel was just grounded because she disobeyed her mother. She lied and told the whole kingdom that her mother “kidnapped” her when she was a child. She was adopted.
Unfortunately, no one likes those stories. Everybody likes how Cinderella’s cruel stepmother wouldn’t let her go to the ball, how her fairy godmother said bibidi bopidi boo, and how she met Prince Charming and lived happily ever after.
Sorry to burst your bubble, but that just didn’t happen!
Cinderella was grounded. Why? It could have been for any number of reasons. But my guess is that she refused to do the chores again. Cinderella was extremely lazy, and her stepmother had a strict chore chart. Everyone had to pitch in even the evil stepsisters, but Cinderella hated any kind of work. A mom will take only so much insubordination before—DOWN COMES THE HAMMER! Thus, Cinderella was grounded.
Now you may be on the lines that forbidding your stepdaughter from attending the Ball of the Century is harsh, but it’s literally thrown every year! And we all know the story; Cinderella sneaked out with the help of her godmother Bibidi Bopidi Boo. Somehow her name was lost in translation and became the magical words that a turned pumpkin into a carriage, mice to horses, and rags to riches.
Yeah, that’s how it works. (You’d have to be as stupid as Spongebob and Patrick to believe that one. Trust me, I play Go Fish with Plankton).
She did meet Prince Charming, but he lost her! It took him an entire year of putting her plastic shoe on every single girl in The United States of Happily Ever After, to finally find her. He met with over four hundred and fifty-six maidens who all had a size 3, before he finally found her.
And as for the happily ever after, I guess you could say I’m skeptic. Don’t get me wrong, I really do love Cinderella’s Shoe Boutique even if I’ve never seen it. But I’ve always wondered if it was worth it.
Anyway, the other stories became beloved, famous, and classic fairy tales. Thus, the real truth—the hard truth was forgotten. Cinderella, Snow White, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, Peter Pan, and the rest of the liars basically tore
our entire world in half. Our world is a book. A book that they split right down the middle.
They live in the United States of Happily Ever After. While we—the bad guys, pirates, and step-family members—were exiled. We called our home the Dark Forest Republic. It’s dark, windy, volcanic, and just plain creepy, but hey it’s home.
So, there I was walking through the tunnels of the Wicked Mountains in one shoe trying to avoid stepping in gargoyle poo again. How do I navigate the dark tunnels? Well, there are a few methods that vary on preference. First, there’s Pixie Light. Basically, it's just a lantern or a jar with a few captured pixies. If you shake them hard enough, they’ll give off some light. Second, there's dragons. But they can be pretty tricky. Dragons need a lot of training before they learn how to not set you on fire. Third, you could always just use fire—but there's always the chance of running into Frankenstein. And once you do that you’ll never go back to fire.
I usually use the pixie or dragon method. But pixies are nasty little buggers always trying to bite and claw their way out. So, I usually just use my firebug dragon.
She’s about the size of a small cat. She has black scales that are warm to the touch, and her belly is soft almost like down. Her eyes are big and gold like pirate doubloons. She can’t really breath fire mostly just puffs of smoke or sparks. But in the dark tunnels, her scales start to give off a glowing light. At the moment, she’s hanging in my hoodie giving off enough just enough light for me to navigate.
“Hey, Henri, whatcha doing?”
I heard the grinding noise of stone wings flapping before I saw the grainy face of Napoleon, the gargoyle.
“Just trying to not step in gargoyle poo again. You have got to stop pooping in the caves! My brand-new boots are ruined,” I said trying to glare.
“I’m awfully sorry, Henri.”
You know that face that a dog will get when it knows it’s in trouble? Yeah, gargoyles look nothing like that. Gargoyles are ugly. Really ugly. Their faces are squished like bulldogs. But bulldogs don’t have horns, fangs, and wings. Like I said, they’re just ugly.
“Just from now on do your business outside of the caves.”
“’Kay. Who are you helping now?”
“Dwarf wants beans for dinner.”
Dwarf was our giant cook. Trust me, there is no better chef than a giant. The biggest problem with giants though is that they have a bizarre affection for beans. This wouldn’t be that bad, except that beans only grow on The Beanstalk. You know the one that Jack climbed once upon a time.
“I don’t suppose you would be willing to help?”
“Nope. See ya around.” That’s gargoyles for you. They poop in the caves which ruins your brand-new boots, and when you need their help they don’t even bother.
Chapter 2: A Pen, a Grim, and a Hook; Oh My!
“Writer’s Block—
When your imaginary friends
Stop talking to you.”
—Author Unknown
GRIM
As an author, you get used to many sleepless nights. It’s hard to sleep when stories upon stories are rolling around in your head like waves crashing in the sea.
Sometimes those stories are stubborn and refuse to be written.
An author has the hardest job in the world because she must build her own world from her own imagination. Now granted that world is completely imaginative, but that doesn’t mean it just falls into place. Somehow, she must explain something that only she can see and desperately try not to sound as mad as a hatter.
You have such an easy job, reader! All you do is read.
But I, the writer, must create an entire world, relatable characters, and an interesting plot line. That is no easy task!
Most authors have no choice but to wait days, weeks, months, and sometimes even years before their stories are calm enough to be written.
But I am not like most authors. I am a Grim which means I am descended from the original Grim Brothers. Yes, you heard me correctly, the Grim Brothers who wrote your favorite fairy tales. Granted their versions were a quite a lot darker than the ones we love today.
But it’s my job as a Grim to continue their work. Despite what you think, it’s the hardest job in the world.
My real name is unimportant, so you, dear reader, will know me by my pen name, Grim. Original, huh?
There is, however; one perk to being a Grim: a pen.
Let me guess major letdown? You clearly have never read Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief. Pens can do some pretty awesome things, and I can say this because I know exactly what Percy Jackson’s pen does. Do you? (If not, you should read the books but don’t the movies). Anyway, that pen is exceptional, and this pen is no exception. It’s an antique fountain pen, but the moment you start writing something extraordinary happens.
Hook
I held in my hand a portrait of a tiny baby with tufts of brown hair and gleaming copper eyes. At first glance, she was nothing of import. But her blue blanket was embroidered with the crest of royalty. This was just an artist’s rendition painted days before she had disappeared. She was the lost princess; a fairytale turned tragedy. Most of us believed her to be no more than an unfinished story. We pitied her parents who had lost their only child, but for the most part she had been forgotten. No one liked to be reminded that happy endings weren’t always happy.
Rumors swirled around her. Almost everyone believed that she was dead. Others were convinced that she was cursed. Cursed or not if she was alive it changed everything.
She changed everything.
“How reliable is the source?” I asked skeptically.
“He wus a private gard for de king sawed the babe wit his own eyes.”
“Where is she?” If this were true, I had to find her.
“Sumwhere in de Dark Forest Repub, Cap'n.”
That went against everything fairytale: lost princesses were often living with dwarves, locked in towers, or trapped in a swan’s body. But they were never living unnoticed in the country of villainy.
“Does my brother know?”
Jack shrugged. “Don’t ritely know, it tuk me bout a yeer to trak tis down,” He mumbled.
I smiled carefully. “We set sail for the Jinxed Sea immediately!”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n, I’ll elert the men at once.”
“Well done, Jack.”
“Don’t get yur hopes up, Cap’n.”
I nodded, but I didn’t reply. My hopes were already up like a sail that the crew had raised so that the wind could propel the ship forward. After so long, I finally had a lead.
This girl changed everything. Finding her had been my only mission for so long. I had searched all over the book for any sort of clues not knowing if I would ever have a stroke of luck. But knowing that if she were alive, I had to find her. Staring at the hook that was in the place of my hand, I wondered how I had missed the Dark Forest Republic. What better place to hide a lost princess then a den of villains? It was the last place anyone would ever expect.
Perhaps, if I found her the loss of my hand would not have been for naught.
My world revolved around her whether she wanted it or not. Whether she knew it or not the infamous pirate, Captain Hook had finally found the X, and he was sailing toward his prize.
“Well, love, it looks like I'm coming to the Dark Forest.”
Henri
Staring up at the sky, I shuddered inwardly at the height of the Beanstalk. I always hated heights. But an upset giant is scarier than falling to your death. Once I was high enough, I could see everything. The sparkling waves of the Jinxed Sea, the black tips of the Grim Forest, and if I looked hard enough, I could even see the other side.
My little dragon had woken from her nap and was having her fun jumping off of the Beanstalk. Free falling with her little tongue stuck out, she looked more like a dog than a dragon. Her wings would flap eventually, and she’d find her way back to me usually with a mouth full of bugs.
“That’s gross, May
fly.”
She just stuck out her tongue at me and rolled onto her back. I rubbed her velvety belly, but my eyes kept drifting to the bright light shimmering from the other side.
The United States of Happily Ever After was always brighter than the Dark Forest Republic. Where we had howling wolves, they had chirping birds. I swear even the grass looked greener; our grass was brown or black.
I yanked off a pod and slipped it into my backpack.
Climbing down is always harder than climbing up, because when you’re going up you can’t see how far you’ll fall.
I guess I’ve procrastinated long enough. My name is Henrietta Anastasia Smith, but everyone just calls me Henri. I was abandoned when I was a baby, but thankfully Rumple Stilskin Smith found me. (You might be curious about the name. Rumple’s parents had always hated their boring names and wanted their son to have a very innovative name. Rumple Stilskin was a very original first and middle name, but they couldn't change his very average last name). Anyway, he had just built his orphanage, and I was the first and last orphan. Well, I wasn’t an orphan for long because he adopted me almost immediately.
In a way, I was adopted by all the villains. My dad taught me everything there is to know about turning straw to gold. Queen Grimhilde or you might know her as the evil queen always made sure that I had an apple at least once a day because of her I’m never sick. Lady Tremaine made sure I knew how to work hard, what with all the chores. King John taught me the delicacies of monarchies, law, and most importantly the knowledge to never sign a contract! Maleficent had me knitting better than Madame Defarge. Dwarf taught me everything there’s to know about geese and beans. With the help of Cruella Deville, I learned how to design and make all of my clothes. Count Olaf even made my glasses. (He’s really the only villain obsessed with eyes and orphans). Honestly, it’s a weird family, but isn’t everyone’s family weird to someone else?
