The Blind Duchess: Part One
A/AN: I've started a new fic because I'm weak and this plot bunny keeps biting me. It'l probably only be a few chapters long. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
Rumpelstiltskin sighed despondently as he watched uninterested customers pass by his stall. He'd moved his wares to a bigger village in hopes of making a more substantial profit but it appeared to be a repeat of what he faced daily in his home village. There were dozens of thread traders set up along the bustling square who probably had been selling in Durand for years. He raked his fingers through his silver streaked locks frustratingly, wondering if he should just pack up and head home for the day. He was about to leave when a couple of armed guards approached his shabby stall.
"May I help you, gentleman?" the spinner wavered, gazing between the two brawny soldiers.
"Yes, you can, spinner. The Duke of the Frontlands is searching for a tailor to make his daughter a gown for her wedding day. If you agree, you'll be paid handsomely for your work," one of them interjected.
Rumpelstiltskin swallowed back the bile forming in his throat. Did these two just offer to apprentice him to make a dress for the Grand Duke's daughter? He had no idea if he could pull off such a feat but his empty purse said otherwise. "Yes, I can do it. When do you need it by?" he queried apprehensively.
"The Duke would like for you to hand deliver it to Brumshire Estates by the end of the month. Here is a list of the duchess's measurements and an upfront payment," the other guard reverberated, sliding a piece of parchment with a highborn lady's measurements and a sack of gold to him. Rumpelstiltskin's eyes grew as big as saucers when he peeped inside the sack. He'd never seen so much money in his entire life.
"I will not fail you," he saluted them nobly.
"I expect not or the Duke will have your head. He isn't a man to be toyed with," the guard chuckled darkly as he made a cutting gesture across his throat.
"Have the gown ready and delivered by the last day of the month. Delays and sloppy work are inexcusable," the other warned as they simultaneously marched away. He grabbed his threads and bolts of fabric and threw them into the back of his wagon earnestly. He wouldn't need to return to market for an entire year with the earnings he'd acquired today. Making a suitable dress for the duchess was going to be daunting enough. He would need to pour all of his energy and concentration into the task ahead of him. Failure wasn't an option.
The month passed by in a blur, and he hemmed and sewed the wedding dress up until the final day before the wedding. He wrapped it up carefully in his finest silks and set out for Brumshire. The trek took nearly an entire day by horse. Once he arrived, he dismounted his filly and tied her to a nearby tree to graze in a patch of thistles. He'd bathed the day before and donned on his finest tunic and breeches. The estates were massive and were settled deep within the Western Mountains.
Rumpelstiltskin stared anxiously at the brass doorknocker, the dress cradled securely within his arms. He fidgeted slightly as he clasped the brass handle in his hand, allowing it to slip through his fingers swiftly. The noise which echoed around him wasn't overly subtle as he heard steady footfalls coming closer. The door opened to reveal an older woman wearing servant's clothes. She gave him an analytical glance. "And who might you be? State your business please," she clucked.
"I was propositioned to make the duchess a wedding gown, and I've come to hand deliver it as I was commanded to," he stated nervously.
"Ah, yes! Please come this way," she compliantly opened the door for him. She led him to an extravagant washroom with bottles of soaps and perfumes only the wealthy could afford.
"What am I doing here?" Rumpelstiltskin inquired, gazing in puzzlement at the room with a claw foot tub.
"Wash up and put on these clothes," the maid commanded, pointing to a set of clothes sitting in a nearby chair.
"But what of the dress? I was told to hand deliver it. I assumed afterward I would be on my way," he remarked confusedly.
"I'm simply following the Duke's orders. Now wash up, and I'll be back within the hour. I'll be taking that," she remarked, pointing to the neatly wrapped parchment in his hand. He reluctantly handed her the dress and then he heard the door click shut behind her. Nothing added up about this place and it certainly wasn't what he was expecting, but he would humor the Duke and his generous nature. Perhaps he wanted him to be his honored guest for a few days. He wasn't in a terrible hurry and it might be nice to mingle with the aristocratic crowd. It wasn't as if he'd have another chance in this lifetime.
Rumpelstiltskin figured out the mechanisms of the tub quite easily and for the first time in his life, he took a bath in hot water which effortlessly poured from the faucet. It was nice not having to bother with traveling to the well to gather it yourself and then having to boil it over the hearth. He sunk under the mounds of bubbles, sighing euphorically before washing his hair and rinsing it out. There was a plush towel hanging by the door for him. He drained the tub and dried off. The set of clothes the duke had gifted him with consisted of a pair of brown trousers and a rouge tunic. There was also a matching doublet and a pair of brown leather hide boots to accompany them. He placed on the clothing, standing before the antique looking glass before him. He barely recognized himself without his rags. There was a light knock at the door, and he opened it to reveal the maid who'd greeted him at the door.
"Here, let me assist you with that," she said as she grabbed a comb from off the vanity, weaving it through his unruly mop of hair. She grabbed a handful of it and tied it into a neat ponytail all the men at court sported.
"There's not enough time to do much else with it. Come! We must be off!" she instructed, practically pushing him the down the hallway.
"Wait! Where are we going!?" Rumpelstiltskin questioned as she led him by the hand through various corridors until they came to a spacious sitting room with a chestnut haired woman, wearing the dress he'd sewn. The maid didn't answer him. Instead, she bowed reverently before letting herself out. That's when Rumpelstiltskin noticed a plump, balding man standing silently in the corner. A pipe hung from his mouth, and Rumpelstiltskin had a feeling he was in the presence of the Duke of the Frontlands.
"Ah! If it isn't the spinner who crafted this masterpiece for my daughter's wedding day. I'm sure you're probably wondering what this is all about," the man remarked, approaching the spinner.
"Yes, I am, your majesty," Rumpelstiltskin gave a solemn bow. The duke laughed mirthfully as he took the spinner by the hand and led him over to the woman standing silently in her wedding dress. She didn't bother to look at either of them, opting to keep her head bent low.
"Here's the rest of your payment, spinner," the Duke said, gesturing towards his daughter.
"I beg your pardon, your highness, but what do you mean, she's my payment?" he questioned him awkwardly.
"She's to be your wife. I'm arranging a marriage between the two of you. Do you have an qualms about it, spinner?" the duke responded threateningly.
"No! Of course not!" Rumpelstiltskin stammered, observing the girl who still said nothing. She was stiff and appeared frightened.
"Excellent! Now let's get on with it! I'll go fetch the parishioner," the duke retorted, briefly exiting the room. Rumpelstiltskin felt a bit of tension in the air lighten as he approached the young woman who trembled slightly. He stood in front of her, seizing her wrists gently. She gasped in surprise as he rubbed soothing circles along her knuckles with his thumbs.
"Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you," he spoke soothingly in his thick brogue. She nodded, fixating her gaze on him and that's when he noticed something peculiar about her irises. She was blind.
"What's your name?" he probed as he continued his gentle ministrations along the underside of her wrists.
"Belle. And yours?" she spoke in the most alluring accent he'd ever heard.
"Rumpelstitlskin," he answered as a smile bloomed to her lips. There was no time left to engage in further conversation, for the duke had returned with the parishioner. The man was aged with a patch of gray hair on either side of his head. His spectacles hung low upon the bridge of his nose as he opened up an ancient book of Holy Writ. The man stood in front of them and began to recite scriptures he was vaguely familiar with. Peasants weren't allowed a formal education and the book of Holy Writ was too far above their understanding, according to the clerics and priests which resided in the village. He clasped her hands tenderly in his own as the parishioner continued with his speech about holiness and eternal devotion.
They began to recite the same vows, peasants and royalty had exchanged for centuries. Rumpelstiltskin gazed into her eyes as he recited his vows, though she couldn't see him, he hoped she detected the sincerity in his voice. "You are blood of my veins, you are bone of my bone. Yours is my body, that we may be one. Yours is my soul until our worlds end," he declared. The duke handed him a simple golden band to place on her finger. It appeared as if it'd been fashioned by a blacksmith instead of a skilled jeweler.
"You are blood of my veins, you are bone of my bone. Yours is my body, that we may be one. Yours is my soul until our worlds end," she mimicked, slipping a matching gold band on his finger that her father had handed her. He assisted her in placing it on the correct finger, entwining their fingers together again.
He kissed her chastely sealing their vows with the promise of forever. He marveled at the softness of her lips, never touched by another before him. After the priest officially declared them as husband and wife, the duke had called for the maid from before to take Belle away. She reluctantly let go of his hand, signaling she didn't want to leave him. Nothing added up about this strange arrangement.
"I guess you can already tell she's blind, but don't let that stop you from having your way with her. Her cunt will be tight and ready for you," he guffawed lewdly as poured himself a drink. Rumpelstiltskin cringed at the dishonorable way he spoke of her. It made him want to bash the man's skull against the wall repeatedly.
"Why did you force her to marry me?" Rumpelstiltskin demanded, unable to hide the ire in his voice.
"Who would voluntarily wed a blind woman? She's been cursed since birth, clearly a changeling child and none of us knew it. Her mother wanted nothing to do with her after discovering her inadequacy. She handed her off to the wet nurse immediately, and I had her sent here when she was four. I pitied her, so I hired the best tutors to educate her despite her blindness. Colette probably wished I'd sent her to the cloister when she was old enough. Finding a suitor who would wed her was impossible, but I'm tired of dealing with her, so I lured you into this arrangement. She's your wife, and you may do as you please with her. She's no longer any concern of mine," he shrugged, throwing back his scotch.
"So what now?" Rumpelstiltskin inquired, attempting to quell his anger.
"You'll be in charge of all of her affairs and any bastards you sire will be your own responsibility. She has no claim to the royal throne and neither do your offspring," he remarked glacially. The maid soon returned and gestured for Rumpelstiltskin to follow her.
"My lord, the duchess is ready to retire for the night. Allow me to show you to your chambers," she informed him. He averted his gaze to the duke, expecting another comment.
"I'll be on my way back to Avonlea in the morning. A monthly pension will be sent to care for my daughter. Expect it soon," he retorted as he stalked past them. Rumpelstiltskin followed the maid down the elongated hallway to Belle's chambers.
"Here you are, my lord," she flourished her hand to the oaken doors. He mumbled a thank you, gingerly pushing the doors open. Belle gazed in his direction upon hearing the sound.
"Who's there?" she inquired anxiously.
"It's your husband, Rumpelstiltskin," he answered, shedding his coat and hanging it above the changing screen. Her heartbeat resounded loudly in her ears, and he could see her supple curves through the thin negligee she was wearing. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders like woven silk. She was spellbinding and as her husband, he had full rights to her body, but he wouldn't abuse such a privilege. He needed to instill some trust in her first and prove to her he was nothing like her loathsome father. He sat on the bed next to her as the mattress dipped from the extra weight he bore on it.
"Who are you?" she queried, and he could tell it was an attempt to divulge more knowledge about himself.
"My name is Rumpelstiltskin, and I live on the edge of a small village in the province of Candor. I'm a spinner by trade," he told her.
"Did you make my wedding dress?" she inquired, scooting closer to him.
"I did, milady," he affirmed as her hot breath fanned against his neck. Desires which had laid dormant for years reemerged. His trousers became painfully tight as his groin hardened beneath them. Her breasts were small but would be enough to fill his hands if she ever granted him permission to touch them. He licked his lips, averting his gaze to the oil lamp which burned steadily, casting its illumination upon the walls.
"You may undress me if you like. I'm not alien to my wifely duties," she said candidly. His breath hitched in his throat from her declaration. His carnality told him to take advantage of the situation but his heart told him otherwise.
"No, milady. I cannot use you for my own pleasure. Though we are married in spirit, I would like to properly court you and become better acquainted with each other before we engage in marital activities," he said, rising up from the bed. A look of relief flickered across her gaze at his admittance.
"You're very gracious, husband," she yawned as she curled up beneath the duvet.
"I aim to be, wife," he kissed her brow lightly. He gazed over at the empty sofa and sauntered over to it. He laid down on it, closing his eyes. Her soft snuffles lulled him into a dreamless state with the promise of tomorrow lingering above them. Rumpelstiltskin had no idea what to make of his new wife, but the moment he looked upon her, he knew he was a goner, for she had already stolen his heart.
A/AN: Well that's all for chapter one! Prompts are great! Be sure and let me know what you think!