A Royal Roundup of LGBTQ Fairy Tales for Children

I wrote yesterday about a new children’s book that tells of a prince and a knight who fall in love—but there are actually many children’s books and videos with fairy tales about queer princes and princesses. In honor of this weekend’s royal wedding, let’s do a roundup and review!

Starting with the earliest books and working our way forward:

King & King, by Linda de Haan and Stern Mijland (first published in the Netherlands in 2000 as Koning & Koning, and in the U.S. in 2002), started the sub-genre with a story about a prince whose parents seek a bride for him, only for him to fall in love with a prospective suitor’s brother instead. The prince’s mother comes off as shrill and overbearing, unfortunately (as does one of the mothers in The Princes and the Treasure, below).

The sequel, King & King & Family (2004), tells of the now-married couple’s trip to the jungle, where they observe many animals with babies. Upon their return, they discover a girl has stowed away in their luggage. They decide to adopt her and make her a princess. While the girl’s darker skin might be a nod to diversity, some might understandably look askance at two White men adopting a dark-skinned girl with no information or thought given to her prior family or society (even though it was her choice to join the men). The fact that the girl stowed away, too, might complicate matters for families wanting to explain to their children how international adoption actually works. While the intent was to show that two dads can raise a child, the execution unfortunately leaves much to be desired.

The Bravest Knight Who Ever Lived, by Daniel Errico, illustrated by Mo Qovaizi (2014), similarly tells of a noble young man who might marry a princess, but chooses her brother the prince instead. While King and King focuses on choosing a spouse, The Bravest Knight centers on the protagonist Cedric’s childhood and chivalric adventures. These eventually lead him to encounter his love interest when he rescues a prince and a princess from a dragon. In King and King, too, all of the other characters pressure the prince to marry a princess; in The Bravest Knight, there is no such pressure, even though the story subtly conveys that the knight is defying expectations—the king at first refuses without explanation to allow the marriage, but then relents. (Parents who don’t yet want to introduce the idea of homophobia could put the king’s brief reluctance down to the fact that the couple just met.) Cedric also handles the dragon in a clever and non-violent way. I like, too, that Errico makes it clear Cedric knew he was gay from the time he was a boy.

The book is available on Hulu as an e-book with voiceover. And in exciting news, Hulu has greenlit The Bravest Knight as an animated series, which “continues Sir Cedric’s story as he recounts his adventures to his ambitious daughter, showing her the challenges that she will face on the way to knighthood.” Expect 13 11-minute episodes in 2019.

The Princes and the Treasure, by Jeffrey A. Miles, illustrated by J. L. Phillips (2014), features two young men, Earnest and Gallant, who set off to rescue King Rufus’ daughter, Princess Elena, who was kidnapped by a mysterious old woman. They find the old woman, who says she will release the princess if they bring her “the greatest treasure in the land.” Gallant is brave and strong; Earnest is bookish and clever, and they must combine their talents to complete the mission, falling in love in the process. The two men’s adventures and their relationship give us classic fairytale challenges and travels.

The character of Princess Elena, however, is disappointing. At the beginning, the king tells the princess (who wears pink, of course) that she must marry. After she is kidnapped, he says whoever rescues her shall marry her. It turns out (spoiler alert!) that she had wished she wouldn’t have to marry a prince — and the old woman (who is really an enchantress), granted the wish by pretending to kidnap her. Her father still treats her as a commodity, however. Earnest’s mother, too, is a nag, insisting he go help a princess he doesn’t know. Still, many will like this story of the two young men (later dubbed princes by the king) and the problems they must solve together in order to succeed.

Prince Henry, by British actor, author, and YouTuber Olly Pike (2015), shares the same basic storyline as King & King and Prince & Knight: A prince’s parents decide the time has come for him to marry, and try to find him a suitable spouse. Unlike the parents in the other two tales, however, they invite both princes and princesses to come and meet their son. They also do not make an initial assumption that their son is straight. The assumption in Prince & Knight and King & King might seem more realistic to us, in a society that still emphasizes a straight default—but in a fairy tale,  realism is overrated. Prince Henry has the distinction of envisioning the most accepting world from the very start (although to their credit, the parents in all these tales immediately accept their sons’ choices, once made). It is available free for Kindle or as a YouTube video, read by the author.

The Royal Heart, by Greg McGoon, illustrated by J. Orr (2015), is the only fairy tale for younger children that has a transgender or genderqueer protagonist. (There are several other books in which transgender girls or gender expansive boys imagine themselves as princesses, but they are not fairy tales. And The Prince and the Dressmaker, below, is more for middle grade and young adult readers.) Like many of the other books, this one starts with a king and queen and their child. This pair names the child Lyric, whom they think is a boy and prepare to rule. The child worries, though, about not being their true self nor fit for the throne. At age 16, therefore, the child runs away. A grandmother’s spirit helps the child magically transform into a princess named Lyra. Lyra returns to the castle, where her family accepts her, and she ultimately rules the land.

Rosaline, also by Daniel Errico, and illustrated by Michael Scanlon (2016), isn’t about a princess, but falls firmly into the fairy tale category with the story of farmer Rosaline, who encounters and outwits both a witch with a poisoned apple and a big bad wolf, showing poise and resourcefulness. When her fairy godmother comes to reward her, however, Rosaline demurs. She doesn’t want to get dressed up and meet a prince. Instead, she insists she doesn’t need another’s magic, and continues on her way to her (female) beloved’s house. The story wraps up then, leaving me wanting to know more about the two girls’ relationship. How did they meet? Is the girlfriend a farmer, too? Will they eventually marry? Maybe that’s all for a sequel. It’s not available in print, so get the Kindle version at the link above or listen to the voiceover version on Hulu, read by The Fosters Teri Polo.

Princess Princess Ever After, Katie O’Neill’s graphic novel (2016), gives us Amira, a Black princess with a shave-sided haircut, who rescues Princess Sadie, a White princess trapped by her evil sister. Sadie eventually rescues Amira in return and the two feisty royals fall in love. The graphic form will have wide appeal; some of the language, in complexity (“spontaneous,” “fulfillment”) and tone (“butthead”) may make it better for middle-grade readers than younger ones—but this is a fun and empowering tale.

Promised Land, by Adam Reynolds and Chaz Harris, illustrated by Christine Luiten and Bo Moore (2017), is about a prince and a farm boy who fall in love. They must also deal with an evil man trying to enspell the prince’s mother, Queen Elena (not to be confused with the Princess Elena of The Princes and the Treasure), who is nevertheless a strong, sword-wielding woman. The story is notable for letting the prince (who has darker skin) and the farm boy (who is White) know each other for several years as they fall in love, unlike the instant attractions in most of the other stories. The number of words and plot threads make it best for the older end of the picture-book crowd. Get the print edition at the link above, or watch a video of it in full free on YouTube. It’s also available in Spanish, German, and Portuguese. Their next book, Maiden Voyage, is being launched by Kickstarter and is due out this June. It involves pirates, a wicked queen, a fisherman’s daughter, and a brave female sea captain. [Update, June 26, 2018: It’s out! Here’s my review.]

The Prince and the Dressmaker, by Jen Wang (2018), begins in Paris at the dawn of the modern age. Sixteen-year-old Prince Sebastian’s parents are hoping to find him a suitable bride, but he isn’t interested, and knows his love of wearing dresses will make him an unsuitable match. He finds support in one loyal servant and in Frances, a dressmaker with dreams of her own. She helps Sebastian become Lady Crystallia, who goes out on the town and is soon a fashion trendsetter. Will keeping Sebastian’s secret mean her own dreams must be put aside, though? Will Sebastian bow to family pressure? I won’t spoil Wang’s denouement except to say it is both positive and unexpected. (See my full review and sample spreads here.)

Despite the graphic format, this is probably not a book for most younger children. The language and storyline (particularly the unspoken things that happen in some frames) will likely make some parts hard for them to follow, and because it does deal with family rejection, it could introduce fears where none existed before. For teens (and maybe some tweens), however, it feels like a perfect read—a coming-of-age fairy tale with universal themes as well as a queer thread, sprightly dialogue, and enough twists to feel original.

The Prince and the Frog (2018), is the first print book by Olly Pike. who has also created a number of LGBTQ-inclusive video fairy tales, along with educational videos for kids and other good stuff on his YouTube channel. In the book, siblings Prince Oskar and Princess Caroline meet a frog who (of course) is really an enchanted prince, and can only regain his true form with a “true love’s kiss.” They assume that Caroline might be the one, and try to nurture their relationship, but it is not to be. Eventually, they realize that it is Oskar and the frog who are growing close. Oskar kisses the frog, and the frog turns into a prince. Notable is that Oskar and Caroline have medium-brown skin, and the frog prince, once human, has dark brown skin. Also, Pike makes a point of having Caroline say that she is happy being single—a nice nod to inclusion for those who are in no rush to partner.

Prince & Knight, by Daniel Haack and illustrated by Stevie Lewis (2018), tells of a prince in line for the throne, who, with his parents, searches for a bride to help him rule. While they are off searching, a dragon threatens their land. The prince races home to save the kingdom, which he does with the help of a brave young man who is a knight. They defeat the dragon and fall in love in the process. When they meet up with the king and queen, the parents are “overwhelmed with joy” at the match. Cue the royal wedding and the happily ever after.

As I wrote yesterday, this book has striking similarities to King & King, but in many ways is the better book. The illustrations have a charming, Disney-like quality to them, as opposed to the frenetic and off-kilter ones in King & King. Haack’s prince also has more agency over his future—he and his parents cooperatively seek his spouse, whereas de Haan and Mijland’s prince is yelled at and scolded by his mother about finding a bride. And while the entire plot of King & King focuses on the search for a spouse, Prince & Knight (like The Bravest Knight Who Ever Lived) throws in the excitement of the dragon. This will likely make the story more appealing to young children for whom the idea of marriage and romance may feel far off. The princes are both White, but there is diversity of color among the kingdom’s inhabitants.

Maiden & Princess, by Daniel Haack and Isabel Galupo, illustrated by Becca Human, will be the companion book to Prince & Knight when it comes out in October 2018. Publisher’s Weekly says it’s “about a maiden who goes to the prince’s royal ball and doesn’t quite enjoy herself until she meets and falls in love with the princess.” [Update: April 2, 2019: Maiden & Princess is now out; here’s my review.]

Although my focus here has been on picture books and graphic novels, no list of LGBTQ fairy tales would be complete without a mention of the young adult book Ash, by Malinda Lo (2010), a lesbian retelling of the Cinderella story. It has more of a Celtic flair than Disney’s interpretation, and comes complete with enchantments, a wicked stepmother, a handsome prince—and a young woman, Ash, who doesn’t fall for the latter. Instead, Ash catches the eye of Kaisa, the King’s Huntress, giving the classic tale a new twist. Ash must learn to move beyond the grief of her parents’ deaths, the rigid hand of her stepmother, and the enigmatic lure of the fairy Sidhean to find her own path and her own love.  (My longer review here.)

Happily Ever After?

What to make of all these tales? First, there’s no reason we can’t have fairy tales, princes, and princesses that are as queer as can be. The very nature of the genre can help us imagine things as they should be, or should have been, and that can be inspiring when the real world still has some catching up to do.

I wonder, though, about the number of stories that focus on marriage as the be-all and end-all. Might children develop unrealistic expectations about how quickly one finds a suitable life partner or feel marginalized if they prefer to stay single? (I have this concern about traditional straight fairy tales as well.) I’m also not sure how many children of picture-book age find tales of marriage and romance interesting. (Most kids I know think anyone kissing anyone is icky, well into middle school.) I know that marriage has rightly been a big issue for many adults in the queer community, but that doesn’t mean our children necessarily share the same need or desire to focus on it. The fairy tales that weave in quests and adventure (even if there is romance, too) may resonate more with young readers, I suspect, and it’s good to see some such stories above. On the other hand, queer-inclusive stories that focus on the romantic relationships may provide a useful counterweight to all of the fairy tales about different-sex romance.

Although most of the stories have focused on male couples, that balance seems to be shifting a bit, with the upcoming publication of Maiden Voyage and Maiden & Princess. That’s a good thing—although we could also use more that center on transgender, nonbinary, or gender expansive characters.

I’m very pleased, though, that even when the protagonists are male, the female characters are generally strong and independent, and in several cases, warriors. Let’s drop the shrill and nagging mothers, though, shall we? I’m also happy that the characters in so many of these tales are of various skin tones. The protagonists still skew White (though not entirely), but the racial diversity shown in the books’ societies is at least a step away from the traditional all-whiteness of European-derived fairy tales. Let’s keep stepping. Speaking of which: The European fairy-tale tradition certainly isn’t all there is. I’d love to see more queer fairy tales with roots in other lands and cultures. Marvel’s Black Panther: World of Wakanda comic books, which recently won a GLAAD Media Award, are leading in the right direction, although they’re aimed at a slightly older age group than the picture books above. (They’re also arguably a different genre from fairy tales, although both incorporate the fantastical, so I see a certain commonality.)

I’d also love to see the behemoth of modern fairy tales, Disney, continue its LGBTQ-inclusive moves with a movie about a queer princess (whether Elsa or otherwise), along with spin-off books, costumes, and theme park rides. Perhaps I’ve inhaled too much fairy dust.

In the meantime, revel in the fairy tales already spun by those who saw a need for queer inclusion and wrote it into being. They’re almost magical.