Chapter Text

The Dark One's Mistress

A/AN: This idea came to me earlier today, and I decided to go with it.

For decades the Dark One had been a slave to the ruling hierarchy of Avonlea. He was often used as the chess piece in turning the tides of war, civil disputes, petty revenge, and just downright humiliation. Rumpelstiltskin was nothing more than a pawn to the royals, and he wished for death each loathsome day which passed. Often times he was led around in shackles, forced to parade stark naked throughout the court. It was how King Maurice preferred it, to show him who held the power. The day King Maurice died, he didn't shed a tear. It was a day filled with joyous revelry for Rumpelstiltskin, until he realized he would now have a new master. Princess Belle of Avonlea had become queen overnight, and he knew very little about her. She was outwardly beautiful, and he'd heard princes and nobles from all across the realm vied for her hand in marriage, yet she hadn't accepted a proposal. As a queen, she would become more coveted by the surrounding kingdoms.

His cell was filthy as he reclined his head against the stone wall. He wasn't expecting visitors, because the honorary celebrations for Queen Belle's coronation would linger on for days. Perhaps he could coax the guard into bringing him a few scraps from the royal table afterward. The solitary window in his cell signaled that nighttime was descending upon them. He wondered when the new queen would come to call upon him. He hoped she would afford him more kindness than her father had. Eventually he fell asleep, only to be roused from slumber a few hours later by the creaking of his cell door. His eyes opened wide as he gazed at the light leaking through the cracked egress.

A woman wearing a golden crown atop her neatly coiffed chestnut hair stepped inside. She was adorned in layers of heavy golden fabric, a ballgown befitting a queen. His heart hammered in his chest as he shamefully covered his nakedness. The queen would surely not wish to look upon his wretchedness. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt a warm palm caress his cheek. It was the most docile advance he'd been granted in ages.

"You, poor thing. My father was a cruel and vile man for chaining you up like an animal. These are no longer your quarters. I've commanded my servants to prepare your chambers. My royal tailor will also sew you up some fine attire. I want you to know you're no longer a prisoner here in Avonlea, but my guest of honor. I hope we'll be able to chat more later, but for now I'd like for you to have a proper bath and a good night sleep," she commanded, assisting him to his feet. She draped a linen sheet around his shoulders to conceal his nudity as she ushered him out of the tiny cell. He was rendered speechless, wondering if this was some sort of cruel joke. Strangely enough, he found every word of hers to be true. Two maids scrubbed his gold grayish skin clean of grime and filth and then he was gifted with a pair of nightclothes. The mattress he was allotted to sleep upon was downy and stuffed with goose feathers. In the morning, he figured he'd be led back to his miniscule living space and mocked like a fool.

Morning arrived, and with it came trays of the finest grub the castle provided. He assumed it was poisonous, but it didn't stop him from tearing into the scrumptious meal. Lunch and dinner followed the same routine, and he sensed no ailment. He strictly stayed in his chambers, too afraid of venturing elsewhere. He was still a prisoner after all, no matter how luxurious it all seemed.

On the third day, a servant brought him a change of clothing, and told him the queen wished to see him. His gut roiled with bile as he changed into the scarlet tunic and brown trousers. He was also provided with a pair of black leather boots. Wearing human clothing again felt foreign to him since the king had practically domesticated him.

The queen had asked him to dinner. A timid servant escorted him through the door into a fully furnished dining room. She steered him to a table with multiple chairs and a tea service. The queen sat at the head of the table, adorned in a flowing cerulean gown which hugged her curves immaculately. The air thickened around him as he tore his eyes away from her. Surely he was being led to his doom.

"Would you like some tea?" she inquired, smiling warmly, offering him a steaming cup of earl gray.

"Yes please," he responded, somehow able to find his voice. His hands trembled as he reached out to take the cup from her. He held the steaming cup to his lips and attempted to take a sip but it fell clumsily from his grasp. He cursed inwardly as the blue and white china cup clattered to the floor, discoloring the carpet. The queen blinked, taking a sip from her own cup, sensing his disgruntlement.

"I'm so sorry, your majesty! Please forgive my incompetence!" he berated himself, while attempting to clean up the mess with a linen napkin. He could have easily magicked the stain away but not having possession of the dagger prevented his from accessing his powers. Surely he would receive ten lashes for his ignorance. She stood up and bent down beside him, picking up the cup. She examined it and noticed a small chip on the side.

"I'm s-s-sorry for damaging your things," he apologized, expecting a beating for his ignorance.

"It's just a cup and it's only chipped. I think it adds charm," she beamed, reaching out her hand. He hesitantly took it, feeling something warm and pleasant spiral through his chest as she assisted him to his feet.

"You're not angry with me?" he inquired timidly, like a scolded child.

"Why would I be angry with you? I have many cups but none like this one. I could fix it but then it would take away from the memory we just made," she supplied, catching him off guard.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" he questioned disbelievingly.

"Because you're a human being, and no one deserves to be subjected to the humiliation as you have. You've done much for my family without a sliver of gratitude. So, today I thank you for your service to my kingdom despite the barbarity you've undergone," she affirmed.

"But I'm a monster," he admonished.

"I've been studying up on the dark curse my entire life, and I've learned the wielder of the curse was once human. The reason why you appear beastly as you so described it is because of the curse. However you're still human underneath those glimmering scales, and I'd like to offer you a position in my royal council. I know it won't amend the abuse my bloodline has put you through, but I want you to know you're not my prisoner," she propositioned.

He sniggered at her offer. "Your entire family has put me through untold hell for the last century! Granting me my freedom would mean handing over the dagger. The room, the fine tailored clothing, and a few hearty meals aren't going to coerce he, Dearie! Lock me back up in my prison, because with my dagger, you're still fully in control of me!" he seethed, causing her to stammer back.

Belle sucked in a deep breath as she gazed at the vexed Dark One. She knew under his glittering persona, he was a lost and broken individual. "Giving you the dagger would mean I would be at your mercy along with my subjects. Your pent up rage towards my kingdom is understandable, but I won't relinquish control of the dagger just to suit you. However, I promise not to use it under any circumstance, without your permission at least," she pledged.

"Fine, but I'm going to need a strong binding contract before I believe you," he countered, narrowing his gaze at her.

"I have the perfect solution then," she said, squaring her shoulders back.

"And what would that be?" he snarled in disgust.

"As the queen, I'm expected to marry. However the law doesn't state who I can marry. I'm allowed to make my own choice according to those regards. Marrying another king would merely grant me more armies, lands, titles, and chests of gold, but I don't need any of that. I already have the most valuable arsenal in my possession," she retorted, wetting her lips as her gaze bore into him.

"What are you saying, your majesty?" he ground his ruined teeth together impatiently.

"What I'm saying is, no king or noble rivals your power. My resolution to all of this is a marriage proposal. Will you marry me, and become my royal consort, Rumpelstiltskin?" she proposed, her gaze becoming sultry, sending a wave of heat straight to his groin.

"M-M-Marry you!? Are you mad? I'm the Dark One, and you're-"

"A queen who knows what she wants. You've intrigued me from the moment I saw you as a small child. My father forbade it, but I sneaked out once, and I watched you smite those ogres, turning the tides of the war. Something stirred within me, and I swore when I became queen I would have you all to myself," she purred, etching closer to him.

Rumpelstiltskin felt his chest begin to concave at her admission. "I do enjoy a good quip, but this is madness," he hissed, biting back an impish giggle as she approached him.

"Shall I prove it to you then?" she inquired, her eyes rimmed with unbidden lust as she cupped his face in her hands, drawing his lips to hers. She kissed him fiercely, setting his heart ablaze. Though the kiss was clumsy and inexperienced, he felt it within the depths of his soul.

As she pulled away, he gazed at her obtusely. "You're serious?"

"Yes," she nodded reassuringly.

"Then I accept your proposal," he bowed nobly with the intent of using their union to his advantage. He would have his dagger back in no time, and he would leave them all to rot in their decay. He would bring every last one of them to their knees.

A/AN: This is going to be another prompt fic, since I'm nearly finished with my other one, I decided to do another.