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octoberbluegates-eng · 6 months ago

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The flower crown and the seven rusalki

A slavic-inspired summer solstice fairytale

Once upon a time there was a small, peaceful kingdom in Eastern Europe, ruled by a king and a queen who were beloved by their people, as were their children. Their youngest daughter was named Lukne, and everyone agreed that she was the most pleasant of all. Each time she would attend a royal event, guests were charmed by her pretty face, welcoming manners, and modesty.

Lukne was happy. She was educated, cherished, and as a last-born, she was given unusual freedom for her station. Yet she only used this freedom for one thing. Every occasion she got, she would leave through the backdoor, cross the line of trees bordering the vegetable garden, and sit right above the river flowing behind the royal palace.

She could spend hours there. She would bring her toys, watch the bugs, and also swim when it was warm enough. The stream, birds, wind, and sun sang for her a melody more beautiful than anything else. No place in the world could give her more pleasure.

She had tried talking about it to her mother, to her father; she had brought her sisters and brothers; but nobody could really understand what she felt for this tiny patch of grass and water. She could not explain it herself because she couldn’t understand why her family didn’t see it. Therefore, Lukne remained happy, but lonely. She believed it was a lesser inconvenience.

In the spring of her thirteenth year, the young princess was, as usual, lying in the grass by the river. She was reading over the day’s lessons when she heard a high-pitched squeal. She looked up and saw, in the river, a young squirrel being carried away by the stream.

With no hesitation, Lukne stood and jumped to its aid. She gasped when she felt the icy water under her clothes but wasted no time and started swimming vigorously. With significant efforts, she was able to catch the tiny creature who stopped screaming.

When she managed to reach the bank and climb out of the water, Lukne suddenly realized that the squirrel she had been holding in her hand was gone. She jumped on her feet and looked around, fearing that it might have fallen back into the river. She startled when she saw, instead, seven young girls looking at her, standing in the shallow part of the stream.

They were all incredibly beautiful. Their long, loose, wet hair shone like waves in the sunset; they were nude, and their skin was as smooth as the rocks that had been polished by erosion; their smiles were warm, and their eyes were full of mischief.

“You were so brave!” said the shortest one. “You could have drowned in such a heavy dress.”

“It isn’t that heavy, I am a good swimmer,” Lukne assured. “Besides, I wasn’t about to let that poor squirrel die.”

The girls laughed maliciously at her answer and shared a few glances. “My name is Rasa,” the small one continued, then she pointed at her companions, one by one. “And this is Leili, Migle, Alma, Endla, Laine and Virve.”

The princess nodded at each of them in greeting and introduced herself as well.

“We know who you are, good princess,” said Rasa. “We have been watching you for a long time and we would like to get to know you better, because we love this place, just like you do. Would you be our friend?”

Lukne agreed, thereby she was not alone anymore when she went down to the river, because her new friends would be waiting for her there the entire warm season. They would spend most of their time in the water without a care in the world, and watch Lukne with interest when she remained on the shore. The princess felt, for some time, that the girls were toying with her, as she was a stranger to their group, but as months went by, this feeling slowly subsided.

Lukne was one of them. She would play, swim, run, dance, and sing with them. Laine and Virve would teach her how to imitate birds and frogs. Alma was the most energetic and ran more often than she walked, although the quiet Endla always managed to appease her outbursts. Leili and Migle kept diving into the water from atop the trees and they were so light and agile that they could climb them without even a scrape. As for Rasa, she was an affectionate chatterbox, always clinging to someone.

But most of all, they all felt for each other an affection which Lukne was soon entwined in. First there were compliments, calm and peaceful moments, then presents, small things they had found. In the autumn, when the weather got too cold, the girls would say their goodbyes to their princess with heartbreaking embraces, and would not come back until spring, with more tender reunions each year. During the long winter months, Lukne would look at the frozen river from her bedroom window and miss her dear companions terribly.

Lukne grew and soon became of age to marry. You should know that in this kingdom, young people followed a tradition on the night of the summer solstice, which they call Kupala night. Young girls would, during the day, make a crown out of freshly picked flowers. They could use any type of flower, and braid them together any way they wanted. They could even decorate them with candles or ribbons. Then, at sunset, they would walk up the river and put their crowns in the water.

The slow, steady current would then gently carry the crowns downstream, to the waiting suitors. They had to find, among all the crowns, the one made by the woman of their heart. Should they succeed, they could meet with their beloved’s family and ask for her hand in marriage, for it was said that wearing this crown undamaged proved that the couple was blessed by the goddess of love.

The people were ecstatic when the king declared that he would marry Lukne, his youngest daughter, to whoever would come to the palace on Kupala morning, wearing the crown made by the princess. Therefore, any citizen in the land had a chance to marry her.

Lukne did not really care about marriage yet. She was even almost surprised when Rasa asked her, in the autumn, on the day they had to leave, if she would marry soon.

“I hope not,” Lukne admitted. “Should I marry, I would have to go live with my husband. I am so happy with you, I don’t want to imagine living elsewhere.”

“You could marry a young king who would make you his queen, or a rich noble who would cover you with gifts, or even an honest man madly in love with you.”

“But I don’t know anyone who makes me happier than you do.”

The seven young girls then smiled fiercely, and Lukne would have been scared if she did not love them so much. Endla approached and handed her a small pouch.

“It’s a present from all of us,” Rasa explained. “They are seeds. If you love us, plant them in your bedroom, in a tub of dirt taken from the river. They won’t wilt from the cold, or the shade, but water them daily and speak to them before going to bed.”

Lukne took the small pouch, and the very next day, she got to work. She used a shovel to fill a large tub she had asked the servants for with silt and loam. Two stableboys helped her carry the heavy result into her bedroom and place it close to her bed. She then planted the seven seeds the pouch contained.

Every day, as autumn and winter went by, she took care of watering and speaking to the plants which quickly sprouted from the earth. Each time she told them a few kind words before bed, she would think of her seven dear friends, and smile, remembering that they would meet again soon.

When spring came again, the seven plants all carried huge, colorful buds which Lukne was excited to see bloom. Her companions congratulated her for taking such good care of their present. Spring went by in carefree joy, and a few days before Kupala, the flowers bloomed wide open. Lukne was blown away with surprise and wonder when she found, in the heart of each of them, huge gemstones, more beautiful and pure than any she had ever seen in her regal life.

“Indeed, they are magic flowers,” Rasa said amusedly when Lukne told them what had happened. “On Kupala eve, you will cut them to make your crown.”

Lukne followed her advice. When the day came, she took scissors and cut the flowers with their stems, then she walked down to the river to braid them by the water. The seven girls had stopped playing and approached to watch her.

“Aren’t you making any?” Lukne asked, laughing at their fascinated faces.

“We don’t need to.”

“We never did,” Virve admitted.

“It’s a lot of fun, I assure you!”

So, Leili and Migle jumped off their branches, Laine and Virve took rocks as their seats, Endla sat in the grass with Rasa, and Alma ran back with an armful of flowers she had just picked. Lukne spent the day showing them how she liked to make her crowns.

At nightfall, Lukne said goodbye to her companions. She walked upriver, her beautiful magic flower crown on her head. Then, when she was alone, she took it off and gently placed it on the water. The crown floated for a few seconds but, weighted down by the gemstones, it quickly sank under the dark surface.

Lukne smiled. What a good idea her friends had. Nobody would be able to find her crown now. She went back to the palace gardens where the Kupala bonfire had been lit, and she enjoyed the celebration without any more worries.

The next morning, a line of suitors was waiting at the palace doors. The king received them one by one, accompanied by Lukne who he would ask each time if the presented crown was hers. But each time, Lukne assured it was not, and the suitor sheepishly left.

The king was surprised, when they were all turned down, that none of them had found the right crown. He asked Lukne if she had indeed made one.

“Of course!” Lukne assured. “I made it from the flowers I grew in my bedroom. You can check if you don’t believe me!”

The king just smiled and held his daughter close. “I won’t insult you by doubting your words. However, I do hope next year will be the charm.”

For seven years, Lukne played the same trick on him. The plants she had grown were perennial and always bloomed again shortly before the summer solstice. Lukne took great care of them, and it was a pleasure for her to make her crown, surrounded by the seven girls from the river. Then, the crown would sink, and Lukne was free another year.

The seventh Kupala morning, however, was a complete surprise for the king, for Lukne, and for the entire court, when Rasa, Leili, Migle, Alma, Endla, Laine and Virve came to the palace. They were still nude, unfazed, and each of them wore on their head one of the crowns Lukne had made.

“Your majesty,” Rasa said, always her companions’ spokeswoman. “We have come to ask you for your daughter Lukne’s hand in marriage.”

The king needed several seconds to recover from the surprise, his gaze going from the seven girls to Lukne whose eyes now shone with joy. “This is rather unusual, but so be it. My child, is one of those ladies wearing your crown?”

“They all are,” Lukne revealed. “Each crown I made in the past seven years.”

“All of them?!” the king exclaimed, taking a closer look at the crowns. “But they are all as fresh as if you had made them yesterday!”

Realizing that something was not normal, the king signaled the royal wizard. Said wizard had not stopped staring at the seven girls since they had entered. He muttered a spell under his breath, and immediately, the seven girls’ appearance changed. They seemed even more beautiful, and yet their faces were different, strange and unhuman. Their thick hair seemed to lengthen further and turned green.

“Your majesty,” the wizard announced. “Those suitors are rusalki.”

A whisper of astonishment ran through the court, and some took several steps back. Rusalki were nature spirits which one must be cautious around, for they could be as good as evil, and always dangerous.

The king turned to his daughter who was still smiling. “You don’t seem surprised,” he noticed.

“I would have had to be truly stupid to spend so much time with them without suspecting that they weren’t human.”

The seven rusalki laughed at the remark, but the king was far from amused. He listened as Lukne told him what had happened, wondering what he should do. It was important not to anger these creatures.

“Will you live at the palace, with my daughter?” he asked.

“No, we cannot leave the water outside of the warm season. We want Lukne to live with us, in our palace at the bottom of the river. She will want for nothing, and we will keep her happy,” Rasa assured. “What do you say, dear Lukne?”

“It’s my greatest wish,” Lukne replied, moved.

The king stared at his daughter in bewilderment. How could she say this? Was she bewitched? He thought as fast as he could. “Unfortunately, I am quite afraid that I cannot accept your request,” he said very slowly, and with each word that came out, the rusalki’s faces darkened with cold anger.

“Why ?”

“Out of fairness!” he said very quickly. “Nobody but you could have found those crowns you had my daughter make; we must give other suitors a chance.”

The rusalki whispered among themselves. “If, next year, we find the crown fairly, will you grant us your daughter’s hand in marriage?”

“Yes,” the king said after a moment of hesitation.

“Promise it to us.”

“I promise.”

“And keep your promise,” Rasa insisted. “Because if you break it, no field or garden or yard in the kingdom will ever see a drop of rain or dew again.”

The king felt sweat run down his back, but he nodded. “I swear on my land, and before my entire court, that if you win my daughter the same way any human could, I will let you marry her, and take her with you.”

The seven rusalki smiled with mouths too wide and teeth too sharp. They bowed before the king and kissed the princess’s hand before leaving, all still wearing their flower crown in their long green hair.

The following year, Lukne was coddled more than ever. All throughout summer, the king threw dozens of balls which she was obviously invited to, in hope that she would take a liking to a prince, or a noble, or even a woman, anyone at all. Lukne, of course, was still just as pleasant, but nobody could seduce her.

The king posted guards at each door of the palace, ordering them to follow her so that she would never leave alone. Lukne was allowed to go to the river, and even to spend time with the rusalki, but everything they said was repeated back to the king.

Lukne was very upset. Her little heaven on earth was invaded by chaperones. The rusalki, however, seemed to take it as a challenge, and kept finding ways to make fun of the guards, splashing water on them or jumping on their shoulders from the branches, until they eventually stayed at a distance, afraid they might end up pulled into the water and drowned.

During the winter, the king doubled down, taking advantage of the seven suitors’ absence. He told Lukne that she would be unhappy, that she would no longer be human, that the people would be sad to see her go, that she wouldn’t see her family or friends anymore, that she had probably been enthralled, that those creatures couldn’t love her the way a human could, that it was dangerous, stupid even, to want such a life.

But each time he tried persuading her, Lukne grew increasingly upset. “Do you think that, in over ten years that I have known them, I never thought about any of this?” she would snap back at him.

When spring came, Lukne told her companions she was worried that her father might try something. But the rusalki told her to trust them, which was not difficult for her.

Kupala eve arrived. Lukne was going to cut her magic flowers, like each year. She simply planned to take out the gems. But when she went up to her bedroom, she found out that the tub she had grown them in had been taken away. In its place was a table covered in simple wildflowers. A servant informed the princess that the king had ordered for her to braid her crown with nothing else. Lukne was not even allowed to use candles or ribbons, and she was forbidden from leaving the palace until nightfall.

With a heavy heart, Lukne got to work. With all her love, she braided a very well-made crown, but far from the wonderful crowns she had been making for seven years. Nobody would expect such a simple crown from a princess.

The night came. Escorted by the guards, Lukne walked upriver and gently placed her wildflower crown down on the water. Her eyes watered. Her crown was almost invisible among all the others. She did not have the heart to join the celebration, and sadly went back up to sleep.

Laying in bed, she took what little comfort she could find in the fact that, at least, even if the rusalki would not find her crown, nobody else would either.

The next morning, Lukne was resigned when she went down to the throne room and took her seat next to her father. The king saw that she had cried. He still ordered for the suitors waiting at the palace doors to be brought in.

The seven rusalki were there first, and as if to mock the king, they were still all wearing one of the magic flower crowns. They approached the throne as a tight group, smiling wide. Lukne smiled back at them, happy to see them, but when Rasa, who was in the middle, stepped forward, she raised a hand to her heart, mouth agape.

There, in the hands of the little rusalka, was her wildflower crown.

The king’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead, and he asked Lukne if it indeed was her crown.

Unable to answer, Lukne just nodded.

“Don’t lie to me,” the king ordered the rusalki. “Did you in fact wait at the end of the river, with all the other suitors? Did you use no sorcery at all?”

“We swear we did everything according to your rules,” Rasa replied proudly. “Unlike you who forced Lukne to make the plainest crown you could.”

“But how?” the princess managed to breathe out.

Seven fond, conniving pairs of eyes turned to her. “Did you think the flowers were the only thing that mattered, those seven years?” Rasa questioned playfully. “You were the one who taught us to braid them, we could recognize them with our eyes closed.”

Then the rusalki turned back to the king with stern expressions. A rumble of thunder was heard, somewhere in the distance.

“Now keep your promise,” they ordered all at once.

Lukne stood from her throne to join them. Her father, remembering the risks if he broke his promise, bowed his head, and granted them his blessing.

Some time later, princess Lukne married the rusalki. It was the strangest wedding the kingdom had ever seen, pronounced in the river by the water spirits. Lukne squealed in laughter when her companions ridded her of her dress and untied her hair turned green before kissing her, one by one.

Then, right before diving into the water, Lukne walked up to her parents and held them tight. “Thank you for being fair,” she told her father with love. “Come see me sometimes.”

“But how?” the king asked, confused. “Are you not leaving forever?”

Lukne burst out laughing. “Of course not! I will be in the dewdrops, the mist, the rain, the rivers and lakes. I am staying forever, don’t you see? If you miss me, do what you never did before, come down to the river to see me. I will be there."

And having said those words, Lukne disappeared under the surface.

From that day onward, the kingdom was more fertile than ever and never knew any droughts. The river was given the name of Lukne, and when her story became a legend, it was made into a sacred place of protection for misunderstood lovers.

As for the king and queen, as long as they lived, they came down to the river every year, on Kupala night. They could not hear the song of the water, birds, wind, and sky, but they could see their daughter. Their feet in the water, they watched the flower crowns float away, holding in their arms their little rusalka.

#litha #kupala #st john's eve #summer solstice #story #short story #fairy tale #pagan writer #rusalka #sapphic story #polyamorous story #polyamory #lesbian

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