Once upon a time were a king and queen who desperately wanted a child. They put a great deal of effort into it, until the lords in the chambers below those of the royal pair began to complain of being kept awake by embarrassing noises emanating from the Regal Bedchamber.

At last, the queen was blessed with a pregnancy. A great deal of controversy immediately arose over the gender of the coming child, as half of the land's soothsayers stated that it would be a girl and the other half claimed that it would be a boy. The argument caused a number of professional rifts in the magical community.

When at last the queen had gotten through the messiness of Natural Childbirth, the midwives looked at the newborn and lifted their eyebrows in puzzlement.

"It's a girl," said one.

"Or rather not," said the other. "If it's a girl, what do you call that bit, then?"

There was a worried discussion.

Regardless of their puzzlement, the King was overjoyed and declared to the anxiously awaiting courtiers that he had been granted a strong, healthy son. The queen then sent representatives to announce that she now had a sweet, beautiful daughter. The court, and soon afterwards the rest of the kingdom, was thrown into confusion, and there was some baffled talk of twins.

The baby was named Adrian after the king's conquering great-grandfather. The queen, however, insisted that the baby was named after her aunt, who also had the same name.

Despite the arguments on the gender of the royal progeny and from which ancestor it had garnered its name, a great celebration was planned. When the date arrived, work was abandoned and the whole country became festive. There were a few who said that this fuss being made over one baby was nothing more than wasteful nonsense, but they were quickly hushed by those in favor of free food. The king and queen invited some very powerful magical folk to be the child's godparents. There were twelve in all, and they were a very a-typical bunch, some with bald skin and wings, some naked and breastless, some more than slightly out of the human state. Many of the courtiers privately felt that the child would be quite strange enough without the help of magic.

Regardless of any personal feelings among the upper crust, the sorcerers came. Out of generosity and politeness, they agreed to bless the baby with one gift each. They lined up in front of the cradle, a few thoughtfully stroking their goatees and wondering what they could give the child. In the end, one granted intelligence, another a good memory, followed by balance, flawless health, a sense of rhythm, a musical ear, a fine voice, common sense, concentration, the ability to dance, and a way with animals.

Then, just as a six-armed green goddess was stepping up towards the cradle, the doors to the great hall burst open with a magical bang and a thirteenth enchantress appeared. Everyone recognized her, for she was well-known as a skillful (and tempermental) sorcereress. No one had thought to invite her, for she'd recently taken maternity leave herself.

"Blast you all with boils six ways from next Wednesday!" she yelled as she strode down the hall. This did, the next week, produce an unusual number of pimples among the citizens of the kingdom. The other magical folk tried to slow down her death-march towards the royals, but she was far too furious to even notice those gently patting her arm suggesting Have a drink, honey, and my you've slimmed down since having the baby. From the look of her, she was pretty pickled already.

"Gifts! I have to bear post-natal depression and you bastards forget to invite me and then give the damned halfwit child gifts! I'll give you gifts!" She raised her arms. The people in the room collectively inhaled. "When your pretty little baby here turns sixteen, it'll cut its finger and die!" Then there was a huge booming noise and the sorceress disappeared with a smell of talcum powder and disinfectant.

The green-skinned goddess stepped up to the cradle, behind which the royal couple sat in shock.

"Honestly, some people cannot handle having children. She doesn't need to go spreading the unhappiness about," said the goddess, rolling all three of her eyes.

"BUT WHAT ABOUT MY BABY!!!" screamed the queen suddenly. The goddess looked taken aback.

"I'll see what I can do about the curse. She can't be left to die, certainly."

"He," murmured the king, looking distracted.

"Beg pardon?" said the goddess.

"The baby's a he, not a she,"

"No, she's definitely a she," stated the queen, sounding hysteric.

"Don't you know which it is?" The goddess lifted the hem of the swaddling clothes and looked at the child. "Oh dear. How much inbreeding has the royal family been doing on the sly in the last few hundred years?"

As the royal couple stammered and blushed on their thrones, the goddess bent over the cradle. "Well, I can't take the curse off, unfortunately. The woman must be going through some serious hormonal stress right now, because the magic she used is tough stuff....but I can alter it." She thought a moment. "In stead of cutting her finger and dying, she will cut her finger and fall into a deep sleep from which she may be awakened by the kiss of her true love."

"What the hell kind of anti-curse is that?" blurted one of the courtiers. A more intelligent one said, "What if she doesn't know who her true love is by the time she's sixteen?"

"True love isn't deterred by age. Be a little more bohemian." The goddess wiggled her hips and smiled down at the baby. "Whatever you are, child, you will have an interesting life," and with that, she too vanished with a pop.

The baby shower was rather subdued after that.

The child grew up as all children do, steadily and often messily. There was great deal of confusion over pronouns which was never really settled. The issue was left to the opinion of whomever was speaking to Adrian to decide whether to use "he" or "she". The queen tried dressing her in skirts and lace, but it looked out of place with the boyish features and Adrian hated corsets and heels. His father tried dressing him in boots, doublets, and trousers, but Adrian said that the squires teased her if she tried to wear boys' clothes. She often settled for leggings and long tunic that was cut like a dress to appease his mother. When Adrian turned fifteen, the queen began hunting for prospective husbands.

"We have to find you your true love, sweetie, or...." she always trailed off at that, and looked worried. "We just need to find you a husband."

"But all of the boys you introduce me to are so daft. They think with their testicles, mother."

"Adrian! What have I said about saying things like that!"

"Father doesn't care."

"He's a man, not like us. We're meant to be more genteel, darling."

"I'm not just a girl, you know."

"Only by a few inches."

Adrian's father, that same year, was trying to find Adrian a bride. The king began to closely examine the princesses from neighboring kingdoms trying to find the best.

"A woman needs to have looks and some sort of brains. Take it from me, stupid women are only good for flings, not for marrying."

"I don't like any of the girls you've introduced me to. They giggle when they see my clothes and ask me if I ride horses astride or sidesaddle."

"Astride. Only girls ride sidesaddle."

"But I'm not really a boy, father."

"Only when you've been talking to your mother too much," said Adrian's father petulantly.

With Adrian's sixteenth birthday rapidly approaching, his parents grew more and more distressed. Regardless of her parent's best matchmaking efforts, Adrian did not respond well to any of the prettiest princesses or most handsome princes. Indeed, he spent most of his time with a common housemaid, and not a very pretty one at that. They spent much of their time in the kitchen gardens or riding out in the countryside. There was a great deal of gossip about the fact that the maid rode astride, too, raising the unfortunate remark that she was probably a prostitute who couldn't find any work because of not being pretty enough and was thus attempting to get in the royal offspring's good graces.

Adrian staunchly defended the maid's honor, calling her beautiful, and did not seem distressed at the idea of a cut causing incurable sleep. Adrian was an optimistic youth, helped no doubt by one or another of the magical gifts he was endowed with. As the day of doom came closer, she took to going on long walks up and down the castle staircases, often accompanied by the maid.

On the day of Adrian's sixteenth birthday, while going up the stairs to the north tower, he cut his hand on a splintery handrail and fainted, luckily near to the bottom of the staircase. The maid, tear-streaked and in obvious distress, ran screaming to the royal couple, and threw the castle into a long-expected state of uproar.

Adrian was placed on a bed in the eastern tower. She lay there peacefully, as though there were nothing very unusual about sleeping for weeks.

The queen spent a fortnight having bouts of hysterics and the king began sending out advertisements to the local princesses that the kingdom had an enchanted prince that needed kissing. The queen, when she recovered her wits, was not to be outdone and sent similar messages to the neighboring princes. Royal neighbors began coming in groups, at least those who had not heard of Adrian's "condition."

The princes were led up to the bedchamber, took one look at the supposed princess, and felt insecure in their masculinity.

"I'm not kissing a boy," said one.

"I'm not kissing a girl that looks like that, either," said another.

"I'm not kissing any girls!" said a rather pretty one toward the back, and the other princes gave him odd looks and moved slightly away from him.

"She's as breastless as the flat of my sword. Not attractive. And no hips."

"I thought the invite said that there would be a princess? That is definitely a prince,"

"Sort of," admitted another, looking hard at Adrian's slender neck. A few said nothing and examined Adrian thoughtfully, but they too left in the end.

The princesses looked at Adrian and wondered what he was hiding under the leggings.

"He doesn't have any muscles."

"Or any beard. I could never marry a man without a beard."

"He hasn't got a codpiece, that's what I'm worried about," stated another emphatically. "We were supposed to come and nobly awaken an enchanted prince, not some tomboy with unplucked eyebrows," spat another condescendingly. Most of the others nodded and left. Some looked at Adrian with blushes on their faces but none were quite bold enough to kiss the person on the bed. They stood on the stairs and stammered at each other and arranged to meet soon.

Royal visitors trickled into the kingdom's tower for some months after the first rush, but none of the princes and princesses felt particularly in love with the sleeping Adrian and most were rather put off by him, or her. Then there were no guests at all and Adrian's room lay still and empty.

Time passed, and Adrian's parents began to despair that their child would ever find true love and be awakened. The tower bedroom collected dust and melancholy and Adrian faded from the public's mind as the heir apparent until she became something of a magical artifact. The queen stopped visiting that tower because it made her cry to no purpose. The king went solemn and serious every time the topic of his son was mentioned and the courtiers soon learned to avoid speaking of it.

Soon the only person who visited the tower was the maid with whom Adrian had spent so much time. She'd had the task relegated to her because none of the other maids wanted it. They found the sleeping body unnerving. The young woman, whose name was Keldue, was in fact glad of the task. It gave her time away from the other maids, who pried into her life and called her names. She had heavy brows and a deep voice and was unusually tall for a lady.

"You're awfully boring now that you're asleep," Keldue said conversationally to the sleeping Adrian. "You used to be so talkative, at least when your parents weren't around. They're such bastards anyway. They can't even understand what you are even after changing your diapers for years." She sighed, swinging the broom with patience and persistence. The dust fled in terror before it. "Neither a boy nor a girl. That's not half so bad as what I have to deal with, a boy trying to be a girl and only just managing....And you're beautiful, whatever anyone else thinks of you. Pretty and handsome at once...I think you're wonderful." She stood up straight for a moment, thinking, leaning on her broom. "I'm always wondering now what would happen if I kissed you."

Adrian, of course, said nothing. His breathing didn't even alter. She lay, as fine-featured as ever, unchanging on the pillows.

"I mean, you told me not to. Not unless I was sure. I can't even imagine how horrible it would be to kiss you and have you not wake up."

Silence again. It had been like this for three months. Keldue continued sweeping, Adrian sleeping.

"It would be a lot more peaceful in here if you would just tell me if I should or not. I asked you before you went under, a hundred times, but you always said you were too young to tell. I'd like to think it would work, that you'd wake up and life could go back to normal, but I'm terrified that I'll try it and you'll just stay were you are, looking like a very lovely statue and me most assuredly not your true love. But then again, this wondering isn't doing either of us any good." Keldue looked thoughtfully at Adrian, but continued her sweeping.

"Maybe tomorrow," she murmured. She finished the floor, piling the dust into a gray heap near the doorway to the stairs, her broad shoulders bent professionally over her work. She had her long hair pulled tightly into a bun at the back of her head. Adrian had always told her she looked pretty that way. Keldue had always complained that it made her Adam's apple look bigger. She worried about that sort of thing.

Keldue made a strange moment, jerking back and forth as though she had suddenly remembered something she'd forgotten to do them remembered she'd already done it, then stood for a moment, wavering precariously between curiosity and dread, before stepping over to the bed and looking down.

"You look shorter lying down," she said, before she bent down, and with a nervous quickness, kissed the sleeping figure on its rosy lips.

A nasty moment passed in which nothing happened. Keldue was beginning to become distraught when Adrian blinked, looked slightly disoriented, then smiled up at her.

"Ah! I knew it would be you," Adrian said affectionately in his high voice. Keldue grinned in relief and settled onto the side of the bed. Her knees felt slightly weak.

"But you said you were too young to know!"

"I didn't want to get my hopes up, in case you didn't love me back. And if you didn't, I'd wake up eventually to someone else who loved me, so it'd be fine anyway."

"That's rather mercenary," Keldue scowled in mock reproach.

"No, just intelligent. But now we can get married and live happily ever after."

"Is that even legal? With what you've got under your skirts, some of the courtiers are going to pout."

"What I've got under my skirts is no more surprising than what you've got under yours, my dear lady."

"True."

Late that afternoon that they left the tower, to the shocked amazement of the king and queen. The queen fainted when she saw her daughter's True Love, the king scowled at the bride-to-be's flat chest and height (she was a head taller than Adrien) and the courtiers went into twittering convulsions at the idea of the Prince or Princess or Whatever marrying what was technically a maid.

Despite the ruckus caused at the altogether unusual couple, they were indeed married, adopted heirs, and lived happily ever after.