LADY INGRID - ANOTHER FALSE HEROINE

This canon follows the convention of making the false heroine red-haired. In that attire, she looks like Maleficent (whose film, by the way, will premiere within a fortnight in Spain)... Notice the horn-like headgear (perhaps "los cuernos", horns of cuckoldry)?

And here's Ingrid in her somewhat revealing wedding gown!

The bridegroom she will drug to keep as hers (dashing Valemon looks like a Lannister, but much more pure-hearted), and the true heroine (both fair-haired), the peasant maiden Talia, Ingrid will lose to. By contrast, our false heroine looks far more elegant in purple and black, colours of Disney villains since the dawn of the canon (id est, the Wicked Queen in Snow White).

In Edith Pattou's novel, the drug used on the dashing and golden-haired Charles by his troll fiancée is a powder called rauha. Which happens, coincidentally, to be the Finnish word for peace (cognate with German "Ruhe". Many troll words in the novel are actually Finnish)! It's used, in the first place, as a painkiller, with the side effects of erasing the drinker's memories and creating a strong addiction, and withdrawal from rauha is lethal to addicts (could rauha actually be opium/laudanum? Or some mushroom substance, perhaps? I think it's most likely to be deadly nightshade, or some other alkaloid!)...


Charles
Nyamh
Ice Queen

    It was a man.

      His hair was golden, glowing bright as a bonfire in the light of the candle. And his features were fair. The stranger was wearing the white nightshirt. It fit him well, not too wide nor too narrow across the shoulders; the sleeves falling to his wrists, neither too long nor too short.  

He lay on his side. His hand curled gently on the white sheet in front of him. There was a silver ring on his smallest finger. I could see sparse golden hairs on the back of his hand, and the curved fingers seemed vulnerable.

I made sure that Urda and Tuki wrapped him well in furs and gave him frequent draughts of slank. The cold will be an adjustment for him, but soon enough he will grow used to it.

His lovely face is pale and pinched with unhappiness, but it does not disturb me, for in time that will fade. There is rauha in the slank and this will help ease his pain, and blur his memories as well.

And my queen is most generous when the nightmares come. If I cry out, which I often do, she will come to me at once and bring me a cup of warm slank. She sits with me until my shaking abates.

 I do not think there is anything now that would stir Myk's memory—the rauha slank is too powerful for that to happen—but such a slip-up may trigger a nightmare. (I still do not know why the slank does not eliminate those occasional nightmares. It is irksome.)

      I saw Tuki for just a moment that afternoon, and he whispered to me, when no one was near, that he had given Myk the unpowdered slank again the night before. It had been seven days since the white bear's last dose of slank laced with rauha. Tuki saw a difference in him.

Tuki learned that Myk had a large cup of slank each night before bedtime. For a week Tuki had managed to substitute plain slank for the kind with the powder. I have some idea he switched his own slank, unpowdered, for Myk's, which he poured away. 

   I have been feeling somewhat odd of late. Not ill or unhappy. Just a little different, like my sight is clearer, or my thoughts. Or perhaps it is that I feel more awake; I certainly rise in the morning feeling more alert. I can't quite figure it out, but I am glad of it.

       I have even had brief memories of the time before I came to the ice palace. Even before I became a white bear. They are fleeting but pleasant.

      Just today I recalled being a child and playing on a field of the greenest grass, with many bright yellow flowers poking through the green. There were other children and we were all laughing together at something. It was very enjoyable, the memory.

      I have not told my queen because she does not care for mention of the past. And I do not wish to upset her, especially when she is so busy preparing for our future happiness.

Myk seems sleepy eyed, somewhat subdued. I suppose it is the effect of the double portion of powdered slank I gave him last night. But when he looks at me, he smiles...

  Last night Myk had one of his nightmares, the first in some time. I attribute it to wedding-night jitters and am not unduly concerned. He was very agitated, though, and I had to give him double the portion of the powdered slank. It was very peaceful, holding him in my arms as he settled down to sleep, his golden head resting on my shoulder.

    MY QUEEN IS RADIANT. I can hardly believe it is me she wishes to wed. Tomorrow. How can I be worthy of such an honor?

      Tuki is acting odd. All the time he gazes at the entrance, as though expecting someone to enter. He has hardly touched the delicious food.

      I wish I did not feel so drowsy and dull witted.

...but most died because of the slank—or, I should say, of withdrawal from the slank doctored with rauha. Those who had been at the palace for years and had been fed a daily diet of it were not able to adjust to life without slank. The withdrawal was a terrible thing, causing a violent trembling of the entire body, vomiting, and eventually an abrupt halt of breathing.

  "Charles," he replied.

      "My name," he said with a smile that lit his face. Setting down his flauto, he leaned over and picked up the book beside him on the couch. Opening it to one of the blank pages at the beginning, he pointed to some words written in a flowing, cursive hand:

       Charles Pierre Philippe, Dauphin

      "I wrote this," he said. "My name. I am Charles Pierre Philippe." He set down the book.

      And then he took both my hands tightly in his.

CHARLES PIERRE PHILIPPE was the fifth child of Charles VI, king of Fransk. My friend Havamal, the custodian of Master Eckstrom's library of books, helped me track down information about Charles's origins. It turned out that Valois, the word inscribed on the ring he gave Rose when they married, was the title of the line of royalty from which he was descended. Charles's younger brother was the dauphin whom the maid Jeanne d'Arc helped to put on the throne. But that is another tale.

      All it says in the written history was that Charles, beloved son of Charles VI and Isabeau, was born around the time of a peace parley of Amiens and died at age nine. From what we have learned of his parents—his father was hopelessly mad and his mother greedy and traitorous—it is possible he was better off as a white bear. I do not know whether he would agree with that or not.

       Charles dedicated himself to music and, in fact, invented a new design for flautos in which the mouthpiece cap contained a sponge to absorb the moisture from the player's breath. It was quite a success, and Charles became both a sought-after musician and an inventor. However, he never cared much for traveling, preferring to stay at home with his wife and children. They had four—one for each of the cardinal points of the compass.

In the Laboulaye story Perlino (rather influenced by Andersen's Snow Queen!), the leading character, blond and dashing like Charles, is tricked by the Countess of Clanking Shields to drink a golden powder that freezes his heart to ice, making him care for nothing but the poisonous powder, and causes addiction.

A TROLL PRINCESS: MORE INSPIRATION FOR KATLA

In a retelling of a Scandinavian folktale, we find a redoubtable troll princess living in an elegant baroque palace north of the Arctic Circle. I drew from her to create my so renowned Katla (SPOILERS FOR MY EVER AFTER HIGH FICS AHEAD!):

There was no courtyard, and no wall around the golden palace, but then, there was no need for any. The palace doors rose to four times the height of a man and were set with precious gems in a design that showed the sun and moon eclipsed. Over the doors, dimly seen in the light from the torches that burned on each side, the lass could make out the emblem of the troll queen: a polar bear on a blue background, with a crown above it and a saw-edged sword below.

The true heroine meets a guard (whom else)?
He carried a black sword with a serrated edge, like the one on the trolls’ standard, and wore livery of a sort: a blue leather vest and trousers. His boots were studded with iron, and there were iron cuffs around his wrists. He had huge ears pierced with fat rings, and a sharp, jutting nose. There was no hair on his head, but his scalp had been painted blue.
(Notice where I took Katla's army's uniforms from!)

"It’s all wine and dancing and feats of magic, and I’m out in the cold talking to a mad human."
The palace of the trolls was a truly magnificent place. There were windows with panes of crystal set into the walls every few paces, and the lass stood on tiptoe to peep through them. She supposed that for a troll they would be low, but even on tiptoe she could just rest her chin on the sill. It was growing darker and darker, and inside the lights blazed. From what the lass could see, there was a great deal going on. She heard music and saw servants in blue livery rushing back and forth with silver trays. The servants were gargoyles, pixies, brownies, and other creatures.
None of the servants were trolls.
But there were plenty of trolls in attendance. Male trolls and female, dressed in elaborate suits and gowns of brightly colored satin and velvet. Jewels gleamed and sparkled in the light from the hundreds of candles. The troll ladies had their hair piled in fabulous towers of curls above their hideous gray-green faces, and the troll gentlemen had caps of leather or silver or gold covering their heads.

The ballroom was a sight to behold: huge beyond belief, with pillars of carved crystal and amethyst. Chandeliers with dangling pendants that were surely diamonds filled the room with light and were reflected on the gleaming black floor. At one end of the ballroom stood a dais with two thrones. One was of gold, set with rubies, and the other silver, set with sapphires. Beside the silver-and-sapphire throne was a stool, also of silver and inlaid with pearls.
The double doors at the far end of the room flew open. A dozen servants marched into the room in perfect formation. They had the upper bodies of men and the lower bodies of horses, four legs and all. They stood at attention to each side of the large doors and raised silver trumpets to their lips. When their fanfare was over, the roomful of trolls dipped into deep curtsies or folded in half with bows.
“There’s a world of difference between that bored sentry out there and the fish-eyed courtiers in there!"

The doors opened and an especially hideous troll woman in a scarlet gown swept into the room. She had a tall pile of unnaturally yellow hair surmounted by a crown that was more diamonds than gold. Her eyes bulged and her nose drooped down almost past her lips. There were so many gold rings in her ears that the lobes touched her shoulders. Her skin was the exact color and texture of unpolished granite.
That's the Queen, the Princess's mother. Though I beautified Katla's.
The queen surveyed the room with her glaring, scum-green eyes and sailed past her bowing subjects to take her seat on the golden throne. The centaurs—that was what the servants were, the lass remembered reading of such creatures once—blew an-other, shorter fanfare to herald the entrance of a second troll lady...

And now for (DRUMS ROLL)...
She wore a gown of sapphire-blue velvet, to match her throne, and her hair was a gleaming arrangement of flame-red tresses and diamond hairpins. She swayed across the room with the air of a woman who knows all eyes are upon her, and stopped to plant a kiss on the cheek of the human prince before sitting on the silver throne.
Of course this is another story that inspired me to make Katla a redhead (plus, redheads are said to be moody and to bring bad luck!)...

The window behind the lass was opened wide, and the Princess Indaell herself leaned out of it. Today she wore peach silk.
"Indaell" is a Norse name, like "Katla". While "Katla" means "kettle", "Indaell" (which sounds pretty elfin and equally beautiful) means "delightful".
And yes, Indaell looks good in warm colours though royal blue is her favourite, like Valdis and Katla.

Her fingers were twice as long as the lass’s and her pointed nails were gilded. 
The heroine had just had a sudden insight into the trollish character: they were jealous! They were jealous of humans, who could make things, when apparently they could not. The clothing, the dancing from the night before ... the lass now saw them for poor attempts to copy human society.
Drakharin (weredragons) like Katla have such a national character, but due to speciesism and their history as a warrior species with a dictatorial elected monarchy.

Indaell grew impatient. “Give it to me now!”
Yes, Katla is equally used to give orders sergeant style due to her personality and culture, which causes culture shock at Ever After High (mirroring my experiences as a loud and outspoken Spaniard in the UK). It would be nice if she ever had a picnic/tea party with Indaell and Valdis!

The princess was plainly intrigued. At the same time, though, her long fingers flexed on the windowsill, making dents in the gold surface, as though she yearned to simply reach out and grab the jar.
False heroines are generally dynamic and aggressive, impatient, overconfident... like the author of this blog.

Dressed all in rich purple with silver lace and bead-work, the troll princess stood there smiling. “Hello, little human,” she said. “I shall lead you to my betrothed’s room now. Of course, he will not be there for some hours. We are having a ball to celebrate our marriage.”
Katla also has a purple gown with silver lace. It looks like a darker and sexier, eighteenth-century version of her rival Sophia's...

The lass followed the princess through long hallways of gold, richly carpeted and hung with silk. There were vases of fine Oriental work, statues of marble, and beautiful paintings.
They stopped in front of a door made of silver and set with pearls. 

They were in a large sitting room, richly furnished. Beyond, they found a bed-chamber and a washroom. Here everything was made of gold and inlaid with jewels. There were books on a footstool near the fireplace, in Norwegian and German, and a game of chess was under way on a small table by the windows.

Later on, we learn more about trolls in general:
“They aren’t natural creatures: they can only destroy. They cannot make things, which is why they are so fascinated by human tools. They take thousands of lives, filled with the creative forces they don’t have, to build a palace like this. She doesn’t sew the parkas and boots, either. A servant does, and from the pelt of her last husband (in polar bear shape), no less. Then she enchants the ribbon and has it sewn on".
Drakharin, in my EAH canon, are surrounded by similar black legends. However, like with the Vikings or Saxons, being warriors does not mean that they are uncultured and without aesthetic sense!

As part of the ceremony, the bride and groom ask each other to prove their suitability. The bride asked the groom to “provide for her,” so he slaughtered a bull. And he asked her to always be beautiful, or something like that, and she did a spell that made her beautiful, or more beautiful. I think it was the troll queen, and her consort.
What happened to Indaell's father? In my EAH canon, the Feuersbrunsts have a family history of heartbreak and consorts darting off with their true brides (generations of Fantines or French Lieutenants' Women!)

“The princess does not like to lose. Neither does the queen.”
The Feuersbrunsts have been sore losers for generations. It comes with being the leaders of a warrior species.

There’s no guarantee Her Highness won’t take out her anger on you.
Confronting Katla is as useless as trying to reach the Sun with a ladder. Ask Lizzie Hearts, who is even ready to declare war after losing to her...

They should have known that the princess would ruin their plans. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, and she wanted to spit. It wouldn’t be fair to make the poor, captive servants clean up after her, so she just grimaced instead.
“Now, now,” Princess Indaell clucked at her, waving a beringed hand, “no need to look so sour. You’ll spoil the effect!” She stepped back to survey her handiwork.

The troll princess had not allowed the lass to leave. Instead Indaell had insisted, with an icy smile, that the lass attend her at the wedding.

For her wedding, the troll princess was attired in a gown of white satin. The shift underneath it was cloth of gold, and the bodice of the gown was thick with rubies and pearls. Her red hair was pomaded and curled and arranged to show off the heavy ruby-encrusted crown she wore. There was rouge on her cheeks.
Princess Indaell’s smile widened, as though she guessed the lass’s thoughts. She stood and snapped her fingers. The pixies who had dressed her flew forward, bearing a heavy cloak. It was scarlet satin, lined with polar bear fur.
For Katla's betrothal, she wears a gown exactly like that one with an equally matching hairstyle!! Rainer Leutnant, the bridegroom, is attired in his mess uniform: Prussian blue coat, white breeches, and black leather boots, with a short sword, Pickelhaube (Prussian military helmet) and epaulets.

“I heard that,” the princess snapped, whirling. “If either of you do anything to ruin my wedding, I will hang you both by your thumbs from the highest tower!”
Pay heed to this! When Charles and Sophia show up at Katla's wedding, she thinks at first they're going to crash it like the Thénardiers... but they had actually been invited!

Indaell swept out of her dressing room with the pixies trailing her to hold up the edges of the cloak. The lass followed, and after them came various female creatures in livery. In the corridor they were joined by a dozen hideous troll maidens dressed in extravagant silks and velvets, draped with jewels and all atwitter over the wedding. They paraded through the palace to the grand ballroom for the marriage of the troll princess. The ballroom was hung with long banners bearing the polar bear and jagged sword symbol of the trolls. Musicians played their strange music in a high gallery opposite the dais. On the dais stood the troll queen, her yellow curls shining, dressed in a blue gown trimmed with polar bear fur and embellished with diamonds and silver embroidery. She held out her arms to her daughter, who strode through the crowd and embraced her mother.
They do marry in the ballroom, though Gustav is reluctant at first (it was in the Wintergarten ballroom that his beloved Lilli's betrothal to another was celebrated).

The troll bride is described as "standing head and shoulders above her young, handsome bridegroom." False heroines are typically tall as grenadiers for the same reason that they are impatient and aggressive. In matters of size, I identify myself with Katla and Indaell. By their side, Valdis appears to be a runt with a serious Napoleon complex.

The troll queen raised her arms. “Our people, rejoice! After languishing alone for a dozen years, our beloved princess, the beauteous Indaell, has at last found a prince worthy of her!”
Monstrous howls rose from the troll court.
Katla's heart's desire is not to be heartbroken like her mother and previous female ancestors. So many weddings crashed by obnoxious maid-fifth columns...

Tossing her head, Princess Indaell strode over to the washtub.
A snap of her fingers, and a chair was brought to raise the tub up for her convenience. From the basket she pulled the nightshirt and a bar of soap and dipped them both in the washtub with clumsy hands. Seeing the fearful look on the troll princess’s face, the lass could almost feel sympathy for her.
Katla and Valdis are equally tomboyish, and all three share the same never-give-up attitude.

The harder the princess scrubbed, the darker and larger the stain grew. The princess’s face turned an ugly puce color that rivaled her rouge. Some of her curls straggled down from her coiffure and she tossed them angrily over one shoulder. The rings on her fingers snagged the soft fabric, so she ripped them off and threw them aside.
During the so-called "wedding crash", Katla's hairstyle suffers similar damage. However, instead of throwing a tantrum that would shake the whole ballroom... she unexpectedly laughs! She has actually learned her lesson!

Princess Indaell threw back her head and howled. As she did, her crown fell off her head, taking her hair with it. The red curls were nothing but a wig, and underneath, her scalp was sparsely stubbled with coarse gray hairs.
Now Katla wears no wig. That tangle of fiery curls is actually her natural hair! And Valdis isn't wearing any wig either!

“You!” She pointed one long, dripping finger at the lass. “This is your fault, I know it! You horrible thing, why did you have to come here? You’ve ruined everything!” She lunged at the lass.
With a shriek, the princess reached out her clawed hands for the lass.
On Katla: Instead of throwing a tantrum that would shake the whole ballroom... she unexpectedly laughs! She has actually learned her lesson! What actually happens is that she lunges at Sophia to ostensibly attack her... but then hugs the Lilienstielian and starts laughing and shedding tears!

“Daughter, control yourself!” The queen’s voice was a whipcrack. “There is no need for all this unpleasantness.” She put a soothing arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “The humans will be dealt with in good time, each in their own way.”
Let's say Katla's been raised by a single mother, after her stepfather's death (he was the commander of the Royal Guard), à la Miss Havisham. That sums up their conflicted relationship

Princess Indaell was threatening to make a pair of boots out of the prince, and a belt out of what would be left of the lass when she got through with her.

“He’s mine,” the troll princess screamed, and pointed a knobby finger at the shirt. There was a crash of thunder as the power Indaell directed at the shirt, in defiance of her promise, backfired and struck her in the face.
The troll princess crumpled to the ground, dead.
“No!” the queen screeched and lunged at the lass, who held up the now-snow-white shirt like a shield. When the queen’s hands tore at the shirt, she screamed even louder. “It burns!” She sank to the floor, clutching her daughter’s twisted body in her burned hands and howling, quite mad.
“My daughter, my beautiful daughter,” the troll queen moaned. Her face was so pale that the lass could see the blood pulsing in it. “My daughter, my daughter.” 
Katla doesn't die like Indaell or Valdis, but she happens to be rather near death a couple of times. And she realizes that her mother really loves her...

“No!” The one-eyed chamberlain pushed his way onto the dais. “It isn’t because of the humans that we have come to this; it is our own vanity!” He glared around the room with his one eye. “The fine clothes! The jewels! Keeping servants and living in palaces! And even worse: taking human consorts! For three thousand years our queen has reigned in the far north, and now because of her daughter’s perverted tastes she has lost her reason!” There is a battle in the ballroom between courtiers and servants. The latter win, and the palace is destroyed after the revolution.
In my EAH canon, there are dynastic conflicts between Drakharin (weredragon clans), and Katla is blamed by other, nomadic, clans as a scapegoat. She manages to defeat them in the end!

The palace where Katla lives is also on a rock, overlooking Lake Vänern. The court is equally sumptuous, yet slightly austere fitting a warrior nation. The warrior king/former commander of the guards is actually her stepfather (she is a lovechild, conceived by her mother's human beau).
Speaking of being golden blond and blue-eyed, Katla transforms after healing/resurrecting the one she actually loved, Rainer Leutnant. She loses her dragon wings and special powers, the scales on her cheeks become freckles, her talons are reduced to normal nails, her flaming hair turns a lighter shade (golden blond), and her green eyes turn bluish-green. This whole "mugglification" also tears at her state of health. She had been warned not to take such a chance: the resurrection/extreme healing spell (a bullet lodged in a young lieutenant's heart was the wound to be healed!) would at worst cost her her life, but having lost Charles was a lesson harsh enough not to be that shallow and to tell true love from mere infatuation. The one who wished for anything beautiful or exciting her sight was set on sacrifices her powers for the life of the one she truly loved...

ANOTHER DRAGON PRINCESS

Because I can't have enough of dragon princess false heroines, after the fair Valdis and the raven Contessa, I bring you the one who started it all: the illustrations by Laurel Long that made me fall for the character... but also inspired me to create Katla and make her a redhead!

Here we see her after recovering her human shape, whisking away the hero on the griffon's back while the powerless heroine watches. Aside from being fire-haired, the Katla source, in her non-verbal communication, breathes life into the false heroine stereotype: "aggressive, dynamic, self-centered, and self-reliant". While the true heroine is always (except when deconstructed in my Snow Queen/Haikara-san fic "The Apple, the Pear, and the Plum") a proper lady. A good share of genderism and stigmatizing tomboys has nowadays come to an end, but she may still appear as a femme fatale against an innocent child.

Here's the false heroine at her estate, located in a barren wasteland and created in a Gothic/Baroque style, with oodles of reptilian motifs (and the griffon parked plus stationed plus chained at the entrance). The heroine (veiled like a nun or like an Eastern bride!) tries to strike a bargain with our lady, who has taken a liking to her impressive gown. Notice the many pearl bracelets and necklaces, the tangle of fire-red hair, and the scarlet dress that gave me the idea for Katla's flapper outfits!

Turns out that, in this version (NOT in the Valdis nor Contessa ones!), the heroine had the antidote for that potion! The little flask of antidote came out of the Easter egg, a gift from the (Man in the) Moon.

So she puts it to his beloved's lips, while soothing him... "Drink it up... fine fine... gulp-gulp-gulp"

Like Liselotte to a wounded Gerhard (with brandy) after Lützen.

He comes to, recognizes her, and both decide to make their escape together.

So they free the griffon and fly away, while the false heroine throws herself in their pursuit, accidentally missing, defenestrating herself, and falling into a watery grave in the lake below...

In my EAH canon, the Dragon Princess survives the obligatory defenestration, left disabled and impregnated by her first beau. She takes the commanding officer of her ranks for a consort, and she raises Katla à la Miss Havisham (or Mary Eleanor), due to a black legend at court about Katla's illegitimacy. We all know how all this will somehow end...