Chapter One
It only took five minutes on the job for Onora to realize that she had made a fatal mistake; she was the maid of a madman...
Rumplestiltskin (the name should've been a clue right? Who names their kid that?) had come to the orphanage and asked for a mute girl to be a maid in his 'rather large' hovel; a flash of gold under the orphanage director's piggish eyes and she found herself being shoved through the door, nearly falling into the arms of a golden skinned man who claimed to be from the east (as if that explained the scales). He'd caught her arm to stop her falling, but when she'd smiled at him to acknowledge his help, he had promptly pushed her away asked if there was another mute in the place, 'possibly one who is a little less... clumsy.'
"I'm so sorry Sir," the director whined, his face falling as he felt the promised gold slipping from his pudgy hands. "But she is our only mute. We have several blind girls and a mad dame locked up in the old tower if that would suit your honor."
"I did ask for a maid." Rumple reminded him. "Blind and mad seem a bit of a stretch."
The director chewed his lips, desperately trying to think of a way to get his hands on that gold. "The girl is illiterate as well if that helps?"
Rumplestiltskin stroked his chin, either thinking over the issue or enjoying the director's flagging greed. "Sold!" he said at last. Earning a sigh of relief from the director and a small thrill of joy to Onora, who saw this strange man as her ticket out of this terrible place; she didn't know how people treated orphans in other lands, but in the Duke's kingdom they were shut up with the criminals and the mad and left to rot unless someone offered to take them off the Director's hands...for a price.
So that was that. Gold exchanged hands and she was for all intents and purposes the property of Rumplestiltskin.
)*(
The first thing he did once they reached his house was to demand she burn the smelly rags she was wearing and dress in the much cleaner rags he'd provided for her. Onora was only too happy to oblige; never before had she possessed such fine clothes, for to her they were as beautiful as any princess' robes and she was happy to serve such a kind master.
It seemed absurd to her that the villagers were afraid of this man, this kind man who saved them all from the ogres, who rescued poor orphans and who so clearly doted on his young son. Isolated as she was from society (for the people shunned her everywhere she went, though at first she believed it was because she was an orphan or mute and it was some time before she discovered the true reason for their behavior) she had no idea of her master's dark curse for he took pains never to do magic in front of 'the help', until one day she watched in horror as her master squashed the farmer he'd just turned into a snail. Wasn't just being a snail punishment enough for whatever the man had done? she wondered. Still it wasn't her place to ask why and Rumplestiltskin was good to her so she tried to forget, but it was as if once opened to the true nature of her master, her eyes could see nothing else. She listened as he made deal after deal, always to his advantage and often cruel in detail, but it was the babies that broke her heart. She saw him trade away three infants to infertile nobles before she finally decided to leave. The poor peasants who traded their children to Rumplestiltskin for gold looked sad, not greedy to Onora and she couldn't bear to see another parting like the last one; the child had only been a few months old, but he seemed to know he was being taken away from his mother forever... the way he'd clung to her was a sight Onora would never be able to forget.
So at last she decided that Rumplestiltskin must be stopped! Quietly she listened to her master; she listened as he made his deals and as he talked to his son and even as he spun his wheel at night. Eventually she overheard him talking to his son about a dagger, Onora knew immediately which dagger they meant for her master was never apart from it and she had seen that his name was carved into the blade. Realizing that this dagger was the key to stopping her master's deals, Onora drew a picture of it, intending to take it into town and communicate with the villagers that somehow they must get this knife from her master so that they might be able to free themselves from his sway!
But she had been seen. Rumplestiltskin may not be able to read her mind, but he had noticed her newfound curiosity and matched it with a little of his own...
He asked her about her parents; whom she did not remember, her age; which was also unknown to her, how long she had lived at the orphanage... but all the poor mute girl could offer in reply to her master's questions was a shake of her fair head.
When he asked her about drawing, she thought she might faint. How could he know?
Rumplestiltskin held out his hand and a stack of paper appeared in it. He held up the top sheet for her inspection, it was a drawing of Rumplestilskin and Baelfire sitting by the fire. "It's really quite good." he told her. He held out another, this time of him sitting at his spinning wheel. "You have a remarkable eye for all those pesky little details."
The next drawing was of her master's own face, "I think I look rather dashing here don't you think?" he asked her. Onora blushed when she saw that drawing. That was one of the first drawings she made here, before she knew her master was a monster.
Noting his maid's flushed face he quipped, "Yes, well, there's no accounting for taste." and vanished the papers with a flick of his wrist.
Onora took a deep breath as a wave of relief washed over her. He hadn't found it.
Her relief was short lived as her master reached into his tunic and pulled out one last damning artwork. "Did you really think you could hide this from me?" he sneered, "What were you planning on doing... spreading all my secrets round the village? Or perhaps you planned to murder me in my sleep?" he giggled, "That one was a quip; you know I don't sleep." He raised his hand...
Remembering the farmer, Onora dropped to her knees in supplication before her master. She clutched at his hand trying to convey to him sorry she was.
"Relax, dearie...I'm not going to turn you into a snail. Snails are common and have no value... however..." he waved his hand and wave of purple magic engulfed Onora, "...a tiny little girl no bigger than my thumb... why I'm sure I can get a tremendous deal for you, dearie..."
Onora gasped as the air was forced out of her shrinking lungs. She felt little else apart from an odd tingling sensation and for a brief horrifying moment as she watched her master grow into a veritable giant before her eyes, she feared he would squish her after all.
"Hmm...or should I call you..." he squints one eye and holds up his thumb in comparison to his newly tiny maid "...Thumbelina now?"
Thumbelina ran to hide behind the table, but Rumplestiltskin caught her easily holding her up between his fingers. As he held her, Rumplestiltskin grinned so wide that Thumbelina's squishy fears were immediately overrun by her new fear of being swallowed whole.
"Oh how very preciiiiious you look now, dearie." he paused, "Oh I do like the tone of that... preciiiiiiious... prreciiiouuus... oooh how delightful. I think I'll keep that one. Oh do stop struggling so dearie. I don't suppose you'll be much use as a maid now that you're wee, but I could always sell you as a pet to some lonely ogre somewhere..."
Thumbelina blanched and kicked wildly with no plan as to what she would do if Rumplestiltskin dropped her.
But it seemed that dropping, squishing and ogres weren't in her master's plans after all. At least not today. Instead he produced a tiny golden cage with a wave of his vast hand. He placed the cage in front of her on his palm and beckoned her inside; Thumbelina trembled as she entered her new golden prison, suddenly feeling very sorry for the orphanage's canary.
