Chapter Text
Paris
March, 1690
To my dear the Honourable my esteemed colleague Monsieur Crowley:
What an unexpected pleasure surprise to see you at Madame d’Aulnoy’s salon last evening! I had no idea that you shared my interest in les contes des fées, those diverting tales of fairies and enchantment and true love, that the good Countess – well, not Good good, precisely, not as far as Heaven is concerned, still she definitely knows how to put on an entertainment, but I digress – has championed. It is very exciting, is it not, to see an entirely new literary genre spring to life? I am quite overcome every time I behold it – that is, I would be, if I had lived long enough to see such a thing happen more than once, which of course I have not, but still I do hope these “fairy-tales” do catch on.
Anyways!
As you are no doubt aware, Mme d’Aulnoy has urged the guests at her little soirees to compose their own tales in imitation of her own elegant conversational style and perpetuating her uplifting themes. I have no particular literary talent or gift for the fantastical, but it sounds like an amusing project. And of course you are well suited to wondrous storytelling, by dint of your prodigious imagination and certain other, shall we say, endowments of your nature.
Are you interested in an exchange of contes des fées? Do indulge me! I shall begin, with a little tale I call:
Angelique and the Serpentine Spouse
(don’t be alarmed, my dear – this is, after all, fairy-tale!)
Once upon a time (that’s apparently the requisite incipit) there was a princess by the name of Angelique. She was the least and youngest of a mighty House, but nonetheless always strove to bring honour to her family’s illustrious name.
This noble ambition, however, was made more onerous by a plague of unfortunate setbacks that were definitely not at all her fault; as a consequence, poor Angelique had failed at what her family considered her most important duty: contracting an advantageous marriage. In fact, she was perilously close to being deemed that most shameful of creatures, a spinster of advanced years.
Nevertheless she persevered, maintained her dignity, and performed all such good works as came across her path. In fact, it was while embarked upon one such praiseworthy mission that the princess suffered her most significant misfortune yet; the ship on which she sailed sank, a catastrophe which left her stranded upon an isolated island with no means of escape.
(Because I know well your tender heart mischievous impulses, I assure you that the sailors and other persons aboard the vessel seized hold of various bits of flotsam that carried them safely to the mainland; ‘twas only Angelique who had the mischance of being carried out to sea.)
Her situation could have been much more dire.This particular isle came furnished with several freshwater springs, and the abundance of fruit trees (pears and berries and bananas and the like), and the temperate weather spared her from any concern about hunger or freezing to death. Nonetheless, it was very uncomfortable, as she had no soft beds nor chamber music nor even any books (!) nor any other necessities of civilised life.
Worst of all was the complete lack of company.
Princess Angelique was an intelligent and self-sufficient sort of person, and could amuse herself in a pinch. However, it was apparent that it would be difficult to fulfill the requirement of a distinguished (or, indeed, any) marriage when there was no one about to wed.
She was … observing this fact aloud to herself (not “whining”, despite what I know you are muttering under your breath as you read this) when she was startled to hear a sibilant voice intrude upon her solitude.
“If you musssssst marry, you might asss well marry me.”
Angelique, it must be confessed, uttered a most genteel little shriek when she spied the speaker: an enormous black-and-red Serpent, as long as two men were tall, as thick around as her waist!
(I am sure you are properly shocked at this turn of events.)
“Marry you? But you are a snake, a –”
“Monssster?”
“I was going to say, a hereditary enemy of humanity. My family would not be pleased.”
“Not just any sssnake, but THE sssnake,” the Serpent preened. “I am King of the Ssserpentss, and you could conssider our union a diplomatic alliance. A sssort of Arrangement, if you will.”
“Hmmm.” The princess considered. “But what do you get out of it?”
The Serpent shrugged sinuously, despite having no shoulders. (Don’t nitpick, you know very well how it’s done.) “Ehh, look. My people aren’t exactly sscintillating converssationalissstss, you know. All bite and no brainsss. Bessidesss, maybe your realm could cut back on the sssmiting.”
All of this seemed … not unreasonable. “Very well,” Angelique nodded. “However, family tradition demands that you perform a service of my choosing before I can accept your suit, to demonstrate your capability and commitment. Are you willing to undertake a quest for my sake?”
“Sssure, lay it on me. What would you like me to do? Fetch a pitcher of water from the Well at the End of the World? Fly to the moon for an apple from the Tree of Life?”
The princess wrinkled her nose. “Neither, actually. I was actually on an … assignment, I suppose, from my family, when I wound up here.” She sighed. “There’s this nun in Burgundy. She’s supposed to become a saint, I’m told. But she’s not doing a very good job of it. I don’t suppose that you could …” she trailed off with an imploring look.
“Got it. Not everybody’ss cut out for sssanctity. Me, I love a naughty nun; big rebellion fan, me.” The Serpent King smirked. “What’ss the hold-up? Pride? Gluttony?” He winked. “Lusssst?”
“Oh, no, nothing of the sort!” Angelique turned slightly pink.” “It’s just that … oh, she means well, I’m sure but, well, she isn’t very … bright, you understand? And she’s been sickly since she was a child, so she isn’t much good at anything, really, and although she keeps having visions and such, her superiors don’t take them seriously, and whenever she receives a miraculous mortification of the flesh, they only tell her to trot herself off to the infirmary, and honestly, it’s all rather hopeless.”
The Serpent looked taken aback. “All right. I’ll do my besssst.”
“Thank you,” the princess said with a heartfelt smile.
“Ngk,” the other responded (rather incomprehensibly) as he slithered away.
And that was the last Angelique saw of him for a while.
She was not concerned, precisely, since she had more than enough to occupy her time, befriending the charming woodland creatures, savouring the scrummy fruits of the bonbon bushes, and so forth. (I do hope you properly appreciate these touches of whimsy, Crowley; I am not at all “stodgy and pedantic”, despite what certain demons may claim.) Still, she was not at all unhappy when her reptilian suitor returned.
“All ssssorted,” he announced rather cryptically, and refused to elaborate.
Nonetheless, the princess decided to accept his assurances. All successful partnerships rested most securely on a foundation of trust, after all. So she declared herself and the Serpent King formally betrothed, and sealed the Arrangement with a chaste kiss upon his scaly forehead.
Her new husband answered with another unintelligible collection of syllables.
He also – much to the surprise of both – exploded into a sparkling cloud of black and red smoke. Once it blew away, he stood transformed into the shape of a human man, tall and dark and comely (if rather on the thin side, as if he needed to pay more attention to his meals), but with the exact same regal golden eyes. “Huh. Magic kisssssess. Who knew?”
Princess Angelique clapped her hands with joy. “How splendid! Now we can get to the most important part of any marriage!” She shook her head at the erstwhile Serpent’s baffled expression. “The wedding breakfast, silly!”
At this point, her recently acquired be-furred and feathered friends tumbled in, with a veritable banquet of delicacies: tartlets and pastries and jellies and all manner of confections, all to celebrate the joyous union.
And unless they have managed to leave the island behind, I imagine they are all there feasting still.
***
Monsieur Crowley, mon chéri ami connaissance, I hope you have enjoyed this little literary amuse-gueule (and were able to decode the secret message concealed herein). Perhaps it might inspire you to respond with a tale of your own?
Eagerly awaiting your riposte, I am (as always)
Your devoted servant Respectfully yours,
M. A. Fell