Snow as Soft as Feathers and other stories

By S.L. Dove Cooper

Once upon a time...

This volume collects all of S.L. Dove Cooper's short retellings and original fairy and folk tales in one single volume. With 8 brand new stories, readers can indulge in queer cosy and not-so cosy short fairy tale fantasy fiction narratives. Including:
* A retelling of The Six Swans
* An asexual sapphic retelling of Frau Holle
* What happens when fairy gifts aim for spite
* An asexual coming-of-age story
* A young woman is fascinated by the sea in a retelling of Dutch folklore

In these 24 stories, heroines and heroes are all exploring the relationships that build their lives, making and breaking connections to find their happily ever afters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dovelet Books
• Release date: Jul 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227759030

Book preview

Snow as Soft as Feathers by S.L. Dove CooperSnow as Soft as Feathers by S.L. Dove Cooper

Table of Contents

Content Notes

Nettles and Needles

The Swan Maiden

Your Prince Has Drowned

Balance By Those Horrors

You Are Mistletoe

The Knight's Ribbbon

The Little White Snake

Saeftinghe

Beauty and the Beast

The Fish Killers

Snow as Soft as Feathers

The Thirteenth Child

Princess Wildflower

Goose Maid

The Frog Prince

Janne and Olbrug

The Witch and the Changeling

Winter's Solitude

Swanheart

Breadcrumbs

The Girl of Flowing Stars

The Importance of Lilac

Sea Foam and Silence

The Sea Horse of Moezerdam

About the Author

Nettles and Needles

Once upon a time, I dreamt of swans. I dreamt of them every night. Their pure white feathers, their eyes, their long necks. The beat of a wing in the air, water against webbed feet, so cleverly hidden from sight.

Before then, I dreamt of ordinary things. I remember them. I dreamt of galloping down the fields with my brothers, racing to see which of us was fastest. I remember lessons so oft repeated they followed me into my sleep until I could recite them backwards.

Sometimes, I dreamt of a queen who’d come into our lives on a tragedy, who betrayed us all. One wouldn’t have guessed it to look at us. In public, we looked like a perfect royal family. As perfect as it could be with our real mother dead. The youngest of us knew only her, and she was kind enough to a point. She always had a sweet smile for her stepchildren, always a kind word. She did not play favourites, showed the same affection to them all.

Perhaps that’s where all the trouble started. She was different from the first queen, did not live up to the eldest children’s memories of the mother they had loved. In private, she ignored the king’s children, left them with governesses and tutors. No one knew what she did. Only that she would only spend time with the children when public image demanded.

Or when they were truly hurt. The youngest of the children were hurt worst by her moods, not understanding why she would not come one time and then another, when their mother’s shoulder would turn cold and distant.

Over time, the king’s children and the queen developed an uneasy understanding, but of course our very existence stood in the way of her ambition. Of the king’s eight children, it was the princess that suffered worst from the queen’s attention. With every passing day, the young girl looked more and more like her mother.

With every passing day, the queen’s words grew harder and sharper. She forbade the princess wear the latest fashions. She demanded her hair be done up as plainly as possible. Had it not upset the king, none of the children doubted but that she would have clad the princess in a burlap sack and rubbed mud all over her hair.

The first queen had been beautiful, with hair the colour of fire, and eyes the most piercing yet gentle green. The princess, at fifteen, was her mirror image. People loved the princess in a way that they did not love the queen and jealousy is a powerful force. She would not bear for the princess to be alone, interrupted the king’s attempts to speak with his daughter every chance she got, fawned over the king and pulled him away with whispers in his ears.

Before long, the royal palace was filled with fear and hushed conversations. Fear begetting fear and mistrust begetting mistrust. The youngest of the children did not understand. They understood even less when their father ordered their sister to a hunting estate none of them had ever heard of. It was only a few hours away, he assured them all, and they would not be parted.

The queen wept at the announcement. Cold diamonds slid down her cheeks as she pleaded with the king not to take her nestlings away. In the end, all the king agreed to was that the children should all go to the estate together, as to stave off his daughter’s potential boredom. He would not tell anyone where it was.

Trust can go a long way, but the palace had little enough of it to spare. Trust can see one safe even on a path of thorns, but none of the royal family knew that. Who knows the king’s and the queen’s reasons, but the children were too young to understand. All they knew was that their father had cast them aside.

Oh, he told them why when they were riding to the estate. He told them it was for their own safety. He told them all would be provided for them. Everything they were used to, everything they could need. But they had to stay until it was safe once more. He hoped it would not take long, but matters of state could not be rushed. It sounds reasonable enough, doesn’t it? But to a child especially the younger ones who do not understand, it is merely the removal of love, safety and familiarity. It is betrayal.

It was another three years before the king’s children would see another soul beside themselves and their father. He would come infrequently, though always with gifts. This time it was not the king whom they rushed to greet at the estate’s empty stables. It was the queen.

The youngest of the eight children ran up to her, barely waiting for her to have dismounted, and the queen knelt down to envelop them in a hug. And if she looked wan and tired… The children were just happy to see their mother again.

Where is your sister? she asked, her voice raw and hard. If one looked closely, one might have guessed that the queen’s riding habit had seen better days, that the raven-coloured braids along her head were coming undone. That she would not remove her gloves for anyone.

Before any of the princes could answer, she said, No matter. There are none here but you. And before the king’s children could understand what was happening there were six swans where there once had been six boys, and they wasted no time in fleeing from the wicked magic that had taken a hold of them.

Scene Break

Whether through sheer luck or some other form of magic, the queen could not find the princess, who had been swimming in a nearby lake as was her wont. The swans knew where she was, but even the littlest ones knew better than to lead the queen straight to their sister.

And so it was evening by the time the princess returned to their abode and found it empty. The queen was nowhere to be seen for she had had to ride him long ago, tears streaking down her face and driving the horse cruelly like a demon was chasing her. Perhaps, in the part of her heart that had not yet given in to darkness, it was and she was running from herself.

But the princess found their home deserted and she was scared for there was always one of her brothers around. Whether it was the two youngest holding the most epic of stick sword fights, the eldest patrolling with a lantern to check for wild animals, someone telling a story, tending the gardens or anything else she could think of, there was always someone about.

A great fear overtook the princess then, for had her father not always warned them of danger? Danger, it seemed, had found them and the princess would not stay to discover what it was. She stayed long enough to gather up supplies, to rifle through her brothers’ clothes until she found some that would fit her with a little mending here and there. She stayed long enough to find a sharp knife and hack off her long hair.

Her father had told her many stories about the wickedness of men, how many would take what was meant for family alone. She would not let them, though her brother’s clothes made her feel awkward and when she caught sight of her reflection in a mirror she did not immediately understand why her heart lurched in pain.

She did not recognise herself. She had only wanted to keep herself safe as she sought out her father’s palace and told him evil had found them, but the person in the mirror wasn’t her. The wrongness of it set her fleeing back to the kitchen where she hastily wrapped up some food for her journey.

Heart hammering in her throat, she took up her blanket, her pack of food, stuffed one of her brothers’ knives into her belt, and fled. At that point she might be hard-pressed to tell whether it was the fear of danger or the fear of her own reflection that drove her. She ran as fast as she could through the forest and when she was too tired to run, she walked and stumbled, only making camp when she almost tripped over a large root.

The forest was a large one, and dense, so the princess could not see the swan flying over the treetops until she made her way to the edge disheveled, scratched, dirty and hungry. At the edge of the forest stood a small cottage. She hesitated. The sun stood high in the sky, though it had not been so low to begin with, before she stopped darting back to the safety of the forest after every tiny step and made it to the cottage door. It stood ajar, and hesitantly she called out a hello. Then it did again trying to make her voice more like her brothers’. She’d never minded when they were acting or telling each other stories, but now the word lodged itself in her throat, refusing to come out until she forced it.

There was no response. Emboldened, and hungry, the princess pushed the door open further and entered. The cottage wasn’t large, but somehow it fitted seven beds inside it, all around a great fire pit. In a corner, she found a bag of apples and ate one. Then, tired from her flight, she curled up in the nearest bed and fell asleep.

Scene Break

When the princess woke, it was to murmurs. Though soft, they were voices she would recognise anywhere at all. For they were the voices of her brothers, gathered around the pit as one of them built a fire.

As overjoyed as the princess was to have found them, and found them safe, there was no great celebration for there was only a little time and much to discuss. They talked of the curse the queen had put the princes under, how they had only a few hours once a month where they were human. They talked of how they had sought for her as swans, and how they felt they were losing themselves day by day.

They talked, a little, of where they had flown. They mentioned the queen, who sat in her gardens weeping silently each day.

Finally, as the embers in the pit began to die and the sun started its slow ascent into the sky, they talked of how the curse could be broken, for in their travels as swan the eldest of them had been able to go far, and they had found someone who could help them. Those who had looked on their family’s castle said they had heard the same from the queen, albeit in different wording.

They explained to their sister that only one true of heart could help them. That she would need to sew a shirt of nettles for every swan that had once been a boy. The princess looked at her brothers then and smiled brightly for in truth she enjoyed sewing and away from the scrutiny of the royal palace, she had discovered that spinning and weaving brought her even more joy.

Her brothers hung their heads with sorrow and the very youngest hugged her, burying his face in her torn skirts.

You must not speak until the shirts are finished, they said. From the first nettle you pluck until you have put the final shirt onto the last swan, you cannot utter a sound. We cannot stay with you, though one of us will always watch over you, and we will come when we can. And you must finish within seven years.

The princess nodded, gravely. Listened when her brothers explained she could not give them the shirts as they were finished. The sun crept higher and their time together grew shorter. With the time remaining to them, they shared a breakfast earlier than any of them had ever had it, though it was richer than the most flavourful meal the palace cooks could have devised for that they shared it together.

They hugged as sunlight touched the mouth of the cave, and soon the princess stared after the seven swans that flew from the cave. The last one, the youngest, circled the cave and the princess knew she was not alone.

Heart bright but heavy, she set about gathering the nettles she needed. She had no gloves with which to pick the nettles and, even if she had, her torn pants and shirt was scant protection against their sting, but she uttered not a word.

The princess was grateful that the youngest swan was fearless, and often kept her company as she worked, lying down beside her, long neck stretched to lie in her lap like a cat might. When she had enough cloth, she could use his body to measure out the shirts. His shirt at least.

Scene Break

Time passed and the princess lived alone in the woods, always with one of her enchanted brothers for company. When they could, they brought her gifts. Clothes or scraps of fabric to mend her clothes, which she saved until she could sew herself a patchwork dress, a shawl to keep her warm in winter. Sometimes even fish to cook for her supper.

She worked diligently, but the work was slow. In three years, she had only finished three shirts. And in this time, her foraging had taken her farther and farther from her cave. Eventually, rumours of a wild beauty reached the ears of the king. Those who’d seen her swore she looked like his first wife, and by and by the king was swayed into the forest to see for himself what there was to see.

The queen blanched when he announced his plans. None in the palace had ever heard her beg before, not once, but she begged him then. All she managed was to convince him he had to see for himself.

And so he did, as quickly as his court could arrange a hunting trip into the woods. It was spring, then, and finding the wild, shy creature that looked like his first wife was easy for the sun was up and there were nettles to be gathered and, in the fifth year, be turned into shirts.

The king looked on her without recognition. By now the princess wore little more than rags and her body was waif-thin for she loathed spending time