The Quest of Two Hearts

Pride is about celebrating who we are, but also about remembering our struggle. The people we've loved and the people we've lost.

Before my spouse died, they had the courage to come out to me as transgender. And while I could easily accept this new aspect of my spouse, we wondered how best to broach this topic with our children. So, I wrote The Quest of Two Hearts as a way to start a discussion about gender identity. Two tellings got us to the conversation that ended with papa being called mapa. At the time, home was a place of safety when the outside world certainly was not.

Things have changed so much in these last five years. It is both a more accepting and a more dangerous place. Some have become used to allowing people to express themselves, some are confused by the changing gender landscape, and some are brazen enough to be bigots. One thing is certain-- we can not force people to hide who they are in order to survive. We must find places of belonging and stand up to those who would deny our right to exist.

Stories themselves can be about courage. They can be an act of rebellion. Not just in the writing of them, but in the telling of them. In the sharing of them. Through queer characters, we spread understanding and gain support. I believe, stories can make a difference.

To that end, I would like to share this story with you now to read for yourself or to your children or to your uncle who finally came out at fifty.

I give you this humble offering:

The Quest of Two Hearts

-C.M. O'Slatara

Kings love to make war, but witches sometimes get sick and tired of it. More than sick and tired, they get plumb fed up, to the point where something needs to be done. Now.

And so it was that there were two kings, we’ll call them the Blue King and the Pink King, who felt just fine about warring and a witch who felt just fine about stopping it. But how could she? Calling up a big mist or a dragon to torch a lot of people wasn’t her style. She was subtle, that is to say, sneaky. And she was a good witch, and that means, in no uncertain terms, love.

So whatever it was, it needed to be both sly and heartfelt. But she also knew nothing like that would get past the thick skulls of kings who had known nothing more than fighting over imaginary lines on a map or who’s crown was shinier or which country pulled better taffy. The queens, mind you, were just as bad, bickering over who had longer braids or whose sheep had the softest wool or which queen could do the most tricks in double-dutch. And then there were the children.

The Blue King had a son named Earnest. The Pink King had a daughter named Justine. As you know, witches and children have a long history together. I think we all remember the heartwarming story about the witch who took in a brother and sister she found abandoned in the forest and feed them nothing but candy. It turns out you shouldn’t feed children sweets exclusively, they get cranky and try and push witches into ovens, but that is neither here nor there. The children, the witch surmised, were the key to stopping this whole madness.

In secret, she visited each child— that’s the subtlety part, and switched their hearts— that’s the love part. With each child’s heart in the body of the other, the kings would have to stop warring in order to protect the part of their child that now lived in the other kingdom. With each child in possession of the other’s heart, the children would be forced to understand one another and keep the war from returning.

The spell was reversible, but the witch left it to the kingdoms of Blue and Pink to sort that out on their own.

The kings and queens did what anyone would do when faced with something they didn’t want to be faced with. They hid it away. 

They put each child in the tallest tower they had, surrounded them with books, and left them very much alone. They could not face their child knowing that they were different, that they were part of someone else. And they could not shake the feeling that it was somehow their fault. It was all too uncomfortable to be reminded of. And so they ignored it. But ignoring a thing does not make it go away. 

In the Pink kingdom, Princess Justine, who had always had a mind for adventure, began to grow and see the world for herself. It was lonely, but she had her books, and a storehouse full of food, and everything she might need. By and by she became bored, so she climbed down from her tower and made her way to the armory. She saw some pants and a tunic and, deciding they looked more comfortable than a dress, put them on. She found some armor and wore it over her new clothes. She didn’t care what should be for a boy or a girl, and she wore whatever she liked simply because she liked it. She took up the sword and the spear and the mace and practiced from sun up to sunset and discovered she was quite talented, that is to say, she became a warrior. And it hurt no one, not even the stray dog who wandered into her loneliness.

In the Blue kingdom, Prince Ernest, who had always had an eye for beauty, began to grow and see the world for himself. It was lonely, but he had his books, and a storehouse full of food, and everything he might need. And when he outgrew his clothes, he made new ones. But he didn’t care what should be for a boy or a girl, and he made whatever he liked, simply because he liked it. He used rich fabrics that felt like satiny taffy before it cools, in colors like sunset, with layer upon layer to his heart’s content. That is to say, became a dressmaker. He was quite talented with a needle and made dozens of them, each more beautiful than the last. And since no one was there to tell him any different, he dressed as he pleased and it hurt no one, not even the birds he trained to come to his hand when he whistled.

Now, the princess and the prince knew about each other. And even though they didn’t feel strange for having another person’s heart in them, they felt they had a duty to return what wasn’t theirs to begin with. On top of that, they missed people. Princess Justine wanted to joust in tournaments, and Prince Ernest wanted to go to a royal ball and show off his creations. But they both knew none of that would happen until this whole mess with the wrong hearts was straightened out. And they both knew that it fell to them to do the straightening out, though none of it had been their fault.

“But what is to be done?” Princess Justine asked Scruff the dog. “Should I leave or stay and wait?” Her mind for adventure, which was still her own, made her feet itch so that she knew she had to leave. She got together her supplies and set out with Scruff to gentle a wild horse for her journey. It took patience and caring and understanding, but she managed to tame and make saddle-ready a stallion she named Bradly. And that name seemed to suit him, for he was strong like a Brad, but calm like a -ly.

In the Blue kingdom, Prince Ernest was wondering very many of the same things. “What if we both leave and miss one another on the road?” he asked the birds. And his eye for beauty, which was still his own, made its way to the overgrown gardens around the tower, and he knew just what to do. He set about to make the gardens so beautiful that Princess Justine would see them from a distance and know where to find her heart. He climbed down from his tower and started pulling weeds, breaking sod and planting seeds. He even hand-dug a pond in the shape of a heart. It was hard work, and he had to make a new dress just to get dirty in, but in the end, he had outdone himself and it was gorgeous.

It was a long journey. Princess Justine rode in the rain and slept on rocks. Sometimes her skill and courage were needed and she had to battle hangry giants or rescue a fair maiden’s treed cat before she could resume her quest. When she didn’t know which way to go, she would stop and listen to the beat in her chest, the heart that wasn’t her own, and it told her where to go. It led her over mountains, down dusty roads, and through strange lands. Until finally, next to a tall, tall tower, shining in the setting sun, was a pond in the shape of a heart surrounded by trees and flowers with the sweet smell of summer coming down the hill to meet her.

Prince Ernest had been pacing back and forth, back and forth, trying not to get his best gown dirty, but always in and out of the gardens plucking weeds to make them perfectly beautiful or picking strawberries for the princess to eat when she arrived. The heart in his chest was beating faster and he knew that meant she was near. At last he saw someone, armor shining in the setting sun, riding on a bay colored stallion, with a dog tramping along behind, and he knew it was her.

Quickly, Prince Earnest poured the tea and ran to get a dish for the dog and straightened his hair, which he had pulled up high on his head, little curls falling all around. His feet moved as fast as the heart that wasn’t his and he was positively a blur.

Princess Justine stopped before the blur and dismounted. She took off her helmet and riding gloves and tried to smooth out her sweaty hair, which she had cut short so as to better fit under her helmet. The heart was beating so loudly in her chest, she could barely hear what she was saying. “I have come to return your heart.” She bowed, which was easier to manage in armor than a curtsey.

“I have been eagerly awaiting your arrival, Your Highness,” Prince Earnest curtseyed, which made it easier to keep his dress out of the dirt than a bow. “Won’t you have some tea first?” He tried to smile. Her armor looked too stiff to do anything in. Her hands were dirty from being on the road. Her hair was short and lifeless. He wondered, would he have to do all of those things when he regained his heart? Would he want to?

“Thank you, Your Highness. I am rather thirsty.” Princess Justine looked at Prince Earnest. His clothes looked too delicate to do anything in. His nails were filed smooth and painted with little butterflies. His hair was carefully done in braids and swirls. She wondered, would she have to do all these things when she regained her heart? Would she want to?

They spent a long time over tea, Prince Earnest trying to display proper table etiquette, sipping tea with an extended pinky and lightly spreading his homemade jam on fresh baked scones. Princess Justine tried her best to show her gratitude by asking for fourths of everything, it had been a long ride, after all.

But the tea was gone, the scones reduced to crumbs, and Scruff was licking the last of the jam from the jar. And both the prince and the princess sat with everything to say, but nothing going between them. That is to say, they were afraid. Each of them greedy for the heart of the other, but unwilling to ask permission to keep what did not belong to them, and frightened of what everyone would say if they did.

“Well, I suppose there is no delaying the inevitable,” Princess Justine said, standing up, trying her best to be courageous. Though it didn’t feel like courage the way she remembered it, to go forth and leave things unsaid. So she added, “You will see I have taken good care of your heart. It is a good heart, and I am sure you are anxious to have it back.” Then very quietly, she said, “I will miss it.” And somehow, that felt more like the courage she was used to.

Tears came to Prince Earnest’s eyes and, gently, he took Justine’s hand. “If we do not return them to their rightful place, our parents will be furious.” But he did not feel that he cared very much what other people thought. So he added, “Though, I cannot imagine life without this heart.” Then, he could not help his tears, and he cried. Even though he didn’t care what other people thought, he knew other people would care very much what he did. “Who would go to a ball with a prince in a dress, anyway?”

Now, this is what we call in stories a pivotal moment. A point in which everything can change or stay the same, but which ever it is, there is no going back. And somehow, changed or not, nothing will ever be the same. And I must ask, what would you do, if you were they?

Princess Justine smiled and wiped Earnest’s tears away with her rough hand. “I would.” She took his hand, twirling him in the moonlight, and they both thought it felt very much like courage indeed.

They decided to go back home and change only their names. Earnest became Earnestine and Justine became just Justin. And they all lived happily ever after. And really, if you must know, the witch never changed their hearts at all, she just gave them the freedom to be who they are. But that is our secret.

The End