As the obligatory introduction to fairy tales demands, this story takes place long ago, in a kingdom far, far way away. In this kingdom, lived a king and queen. Hence, the name kingdom. It wouldn't make much sense to call a kingdom a kingdom without there being a king or queen, now would it? A kingdom without a king is called a republic, after all.
Anyway, the king and queen were busy people, having a hectic schedule as psychologists aside from their duties of ruling. Of course, the king and queen had a daughter, who was called Willow. Princess Willow was a clever and petty young woman. But not at all a Mary Sue like one often sees in fairy tales like this, oh, no, for she was also shy and introverted, and preferred to keep to herself. Though secretly (as all princesses do), she yearned to be loved by someone she could hold dear to her heart.
So, when Princess Willow turned 15, she was deemed of marrying age, for these were medieval times and people were more perverted then... well, not exactly more perverted, people just tend to hide it better these days. All the princes and the princesses of neighboring lands were invited, because Princess Willow had not yet decided upon her sexuality (and at age 15, who has, really?).
Her best friend Princess Buffy had just married Prince Spike so they weren't potential candidates. Prince Xander had been seeing Princess Anya lately and Princess Dawn was still too young. Prince Oz was a potential candidate, but Princess Willow did not like the eyes he was constantly making at Princess Veruca.
That only left Princess Clinton, and Princess Clinton scared Princess Willow to no end, for Princess Clinton was a total skank with a tongue-stud, who kept trying to lick her neck. And then there were the persistent rumors about Princess Clinton, a cigar and a servant-girl.
Finally, a crying Princess Willow ran from her own party. She ran into the woods, ran and ran and ran, until she collapsed at a small and shallow pond in the middle of the forest... for princesses often run into the woods for no apparent reason, unfettered by the guards of the palace who catch any intruders but can never seem to stop their own princess from running off into danger.
So Princess Willow sat back against the tree and cried softly whole pouting impossibly poutily. "Oh, woe is me," Princess Willow sniffed. "Shalt I ever be loved? Or shalt I forever be a rose unplucked?"
Unbeknownst by Princess Willow, a small frog sat at the edge of the pond. Though, looks were deceiving, for a frog is never a frog in a story such as this. No, this was none other than Princess Tara. And Princess Tara had been very miffed the past few days. Why didst that silly old cow turn me into a frog? Surely she must have seen that we wereth no match made in heaven. Princess Tara, daughter of the witch-queen, had been cursed to live as a frog for refusing the Dark Witch's advances. Of course, Princess Tara had tried to turn her down nicely by explaining that the age difference between was insurmountable. For she was 15, while the Dark Witch was 150. The Dark Witch being as Dark Witches are, cursed Tara to become a frog until she was kissed by her one true love.
Boy, was the Dark Witch miffed when she kissed Tara-frog and Tara-frog remained a frog.
So now, Princess Tara lived in a pond. Still, it was a nice pond, which lotsa waterlilies to sit upon and many juicy flies and mosquito's buzzing around. But it was lonely. She missed her family, even her idiot brother and wished that one day, he'd stop drinking ink.
But suddenly, Princess Tara saw a most heavenly creature sitting at the edge of the pond, looking at her own reflection in the water. She was the most beauteous creature she had ever seen. For, in these kinds of stories, complete random events seem like fate and destiny, even though the concept of destiny is utter bollocks. Still, it seems to work well enough as a plotline.
And Princess Tara could simply not resist her pouty lips.
Princess Tara jumped up from the water. "Oh, sweet lady," she spoke. "Thou art the sun and the moon! Thine green eyes pierce through yon soul mine, and thy red thresses dance in the sunlight. Thou bearest thy lime green bodice and flowing blue dress like true nobility. I feel we are destined for one another, we art two halves of the same soul, thou and I. See how I am smitten with thee? I speaketh in ye olde english, while the rest of the story is written in modern english! Oh, please, if thou willt just kiss this humble frog, we shallt find love everlasting!"
Of course, since Princess Tara had been so foully transmogrified into a frog, Princess Tara's elaborate proclamation of love sounded more like : "Ribbit-ribbit-ribbit-ribbit-ribbit."
Princess Willow did a double take, mortal terror radiating from her gentle features. For Princess Willow feared frogs more than death itself. "ah... ah.... AAAAAAHHHHHH!" Princess Willow screamed as she picked up her dress and ran back to the castle. For somehow, though the woods not being a princess' natural habitat, princesses are excellent trackers and know their way back to their castle in spite of having run around like a headless chicken without paying attention to their surroundings earlier.
"BUGGER!" Princess Tara swore and hopped after her one true love as quick as her hoppy legs could carry her. Even though she was wearing a tiny gilded crown on her foggy head, it did not fall off during the chase. Why not, you may ask? Well, for the same reason Indiana Jones' hat never blows off during a chase-scene: magic.
"Waiteth for me, my love!" Princess Tara called after her. But all Princess Willow could hear was ribbits following her through the forest.
Finally Princess Willow arrived at her castle and ran inside the walls. "It's after me!" she yelled at the guards. "Help! It's after me! It wants to eat my soul!"
Of course, the guards, being the utter buffoons that guards tend to be, never imagined a frog being after Princess Willow's soul, so they just let it hop along while they looked for what they preceives as the real threat to their beloved Princess Willow : Princess Clinton.
In the end, Princess Willow had reached her room and prepared a defence. For aside from many fluffy pillows that princesses loved to sleep on, her large tower-room had plenty of items, like spinning wheels, poisoned apples, a cauldron to push witches in and many more items of fairy-tale genocide. One of which being a large broom, which Princess Willow had grabbed just as Princess Tara hopped inside her room.
"Stay away, frog," Princess Willow waved the broom around. "Just stay away! Cause I got a broom and I'm not afraid to use it on thee! Yes, I've gotten lotsa broom-fighting training from my friend Princess Buffy and she can kick asses like the best one. And now so can I, cause my broom is registered as a deadly weapon by our kingdom's secret police!"
"But... I only want to kiss thy soft lips," Princess Tara pleaded.
"Ribbit-ribbit-ribbit," was that Princess Willow heard.
"Dost thou mock me?" Princess Willow huffed, trying to look big, but only ending up looking irresistibly cute. She rose the broom above her head. "Haaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiyyyyyaaaaaa!" she shouted and slammed her broom down.
"Hellpppp!" Princess Willow shouted while trying to bash the hapless Tara-frog's brains in. "HELP!" Princess Willow yelled again, while she slammed her broom into the furniture again and again and again, trying to hit poor Princess Tara, who could only just hop away barely in time. "Save your princess!" Princess Willow called in desperation.
"Hm," Princess Tara thought when she avoided another swing. "For a helpless princess, she sure fights like Xena."
Finally Princess Tara managed to jump on top of Princess Willow's broom. Princess Willow let out a terrible shriek and dove underneath the covers of her royal bed, covering herself to her green peepers, looking intently at the Tara-frog.
Princess Tara hopped right into front of Princess Willow's eyes, looking intently into them. Green met azure. Love met love. Slowly, ever so slowly, Princess Willow lowered the covers. A frog with a crown on her head wasn't an everyday occurance. Maybe... just maybe...
While the other girl was trembling with fear, Princess Tara slowly pressed her froggy lips against Princess Willow's. And then, after the mandatory flash of magical light and fireworks, Princess Willow saw the most beautiful honey-blonde girl she had ever seen in her entire life... lying on top of her no less.
Princess Tara was surprised that the other girl hungrily started to kiss her back. They embraced tightly. For their were free, their hearts unchained, drunk with love.
"I'm Willow, by the way," Princess Willow proclaimed in between passionate kisses.
"T-tara," Princess returned while she felt Willow starting to unlace her bodice, intending to expose her lover's firm, round br...
"Ahum," sounded from the door, as there are always interruptions when one is having a good time. King Ira stood next to his wife, having come to check up on Willow for, would you know it, the first time in five years. Bad timing for the smut-fans, ey?
"Sheila?" Ira grumbled. "Get the shotgun."
"Mom! Dad!" Princess Willow grinned. "This is Princess Tara. We're going to get married."
"That's wonderful," Sheila smiled. "About time too. Princess Clinton was starting to get pushy. I think she wants to bomb our kingdom."
"Sheila?" Ira added. "Get the shotgun anyway. Just in case."
And so, the whole kingdom celebrated cheerfully as the two love-birds were married in a lovely gregarious and extravagant kingly ceremony. All their friends and family attended, though Princess Tara declined to invite the Dark Witch. And, even though there was some trouble when Princess Clinton had shown up during the part of the ceremony when the vicar had asked if anyone objected to their union. Princess Tara had solved the problem by turning Princess Clinton into a centipede.
So, as these stories always say at the ending, they lived happily ever after, and had lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of smoochies.
Even though Princess Tara would never quite shake the habit of snacking from the dead flies she sometimes found in the windowstill.