Chapter 2: "My Room?!" / "It's Just a Cup"

I wasn't sure how it happened, or how long it had taken, but I found myself standing in an unfamiliar foyer. My head was pounding and my hands were stiff. I could feel the fabric of my skirt in my left hand and the crescent mark indentations my fingernails had left in the palm of my right hand.

There was warmth on my right wrist. I glanced down in time to see Rumplestiltskin's hand releasing me. He must have used magic to transport us to his castle. I should have expected it, but it unsettled me to have no idea where I was or how far I had traveled away from my home—well from the kingdom that used to be my home.

I lived here now.

A large set of doors opened as we approached. It took a moment for me to realize that they opened by magic. I would have to remember that I would probably witness a lot of magic staying with the Dark One.

He stepped through the entryway and I followed a half-step behind him. As uncomfortable as magical transportation had made me, it was probably far more comfortable than having a prolonged journey with the Dark One—I doubted he was much for conversation.

I did my best to take in my surroundings, but his castle was far more ornate than I anticipated. There were elaborate tapestries hanging from the walls, odd trinkets placed about on pedestals, plush carpets softening the hardwood and stone floors, and heavy, brocaded curtains on every window: there was no way to tell what time of day it was.

He walked onward with purpose.

"Where are you taking me?"

He looked back at me with, what I assumed to be, a bemused expression on his gold-dusted face, "Let's call it your room."

I raised my eyebrows in astonishment. Perhaps the consequences of this deal wouldn't be too terrible after all. He was at least kind enough to give me my own room. The thought comforted me.

We continued through the castle and up a few flights of stairs. He moved quickly and I, breathing heavily, tried to keep up; my dress was heavy and the corset underneath it kept my lungs from taking in the deep breaths I longed to, but I soldiered on. How much further could it be?

He finally stopped in front of a plain wooden door with a latch in place of a knob.

This hallway had no decoration aside from the torches that hung on the wall to provide light. It was a little drafty and drab in comparison to the parts of the castle we first walked through to get here.

The door swung open and I looked inside.

"My room?!"

There must have been a mistake. It looked no bigger than a closet. There was no furniture inside—in fact there was nothing inside apart from some straw that was scattered about the stone floor. I looked at him aghast.

He smirked and pushed me inside, "it sounds a lot nicer than dungeon."

Before I could react the door swung shut and I could hear the latch drawing close.

"You can't just leave me in here!"

I heard his cackle in response.

"Hello? Hello?!"

My heart sank as his cackling grew distant, faint.

I was trapped.

. . .

This is what I should have expected.

Rumplestiltskin's deals rarely benefited the person he was dealing with better than they benefited himself. I shouldn't have anticipated a comfortable stay. I had forfeited any and all luxuries of my life when I agreed to come with him forever.

But my people were safe; they were no longer dying. Staying in a dungeon was a price I would gladly pay for the lives of my friends, my family—my father. Oh, it would be difficult to be parted from him forever. He had always been my champion, my hero, but now it was my turn to be his hero. Self-pity would accomplish nothing, so I resolved to be strong. I had made my decision and now I would follow it.

I pushed the straw into a pile where I could sit. It was a poor substitute for a cushion, but it would do. I wondered how long I would be stuck in here alone.

Eventually I would be summoned to perform my duties. He had said I was to be caretaker of the estate, but what exactly would that entail? Surely, I would clean. Presumably, I would serve meals. Perhaps I would tend to the plants and grounds. Would I be permitted to go outdoors? The doors had opened by magic, were they locked by magic too?

Was there a magic spell that could keep me from running away? I had trouble believing so, but I knew very little about the limits of magic. If I could be plucked from my kingdom to this castle, couldn't I just as easily be bound here?

Oh how I wished there had been more information in the volumes I had read about the Dark One. As it turned out, I essentially knew nothing about him.

I had spent an immeasurable amount of time thinking. If he was able to pop in and out of his castle, surely it could be located anywhere. I wondered about the castle, where it was, how big it was, and what he kept in it.

I had an unheard of opportunity to see the Dark One in his everyday life. I would soon learn what none of the books I read could tell me. But none of that would happen until I was let out of this dungeon…

. . .

I was getting restless. I could tell that it was dusk because unlike all of the other windows in the castle, the windows in this … room had no curtains, nor did they have glass. They were short, rectangular holes with iron bars intersecting the open space for support. These "windows" were set just above the level of my eyes, but on tiptoe I could see out to the surrounding lands.

The mountains were frosted with snow, and even from the height of the tower I was in I could tell that the castle was situated in a valley. The other parts of the castle that I could see glimmered in the dying daylight. The view was actually quite breathtaking.

I was looking out the window when I heard the door open.

My heart was racing, but I was more excited than scared. He peered at me with squinted eyes, like he was trying to read my thoughts.

"Come with me."

He swept out of the room as swiftly as he appeared and I did my best to follow him back through the halls and stairways. A few things looked familiar. I needed to learn my way around this place if I am to be caretaker.

He finally slowed down near a set of white double-doors.

"Through there is the kitchen. You'll find everything you need to make tea. When you're finished bring it to me through here." I nodded and he disappeared around a corner.

The kitchen was enormous.

I worried that it might take me too long to find everything, but thankfully all of the cabinets had glass fronts. It made finding things much easier. In a cabinet near one of the three sinks in this huge room I found the pieces for several tea sets. One set was ostentatiously elaborate: it had solid gold plating with sculpted scenes embossed along the face of the glass. The next one I saw was much simpler, but equally stunning. The cups were white with a thin gold trim and gold plated handles. The only design was an elegant blue flower on the face of the cup. This set, though far less ornate, held an effortless beauty that calmed me, so I chose it.

I put the tray on the counter and aligned the other pieces: cup, saucer, cream and sugar containers, and the tea pot. I steadied myself before picking up the tray and walking in the direction he pointed to earlier.

The room was spacious. Along the walls more trinkets were stationed on pedestals, suits of armor framed the doorways, and in the middle of the room stood a very long mahogany table. This is where he was, comfortably seated in fairly typical dinner chair, eyes fixed upon me.

I set the tray down on the side of the table opposite him and began to pour the tea.

"You will serve me my meals and you will clean the DarkCastle." His voice was clear and firm.

"I understand."

"You will dust my collection and launder my clothing."

"Yes." These were the types of chores I was expecting him to assign me.

"You will fetch me fresh straw when I'm spinning at the wheel."

"Got it." I was quite curious to see him spin. I had always wondered what it would look like to see ordinary straw transformed into shiny, delicate gold streams.

"Oh. And you will skin the children I hunt, for their pelts."

His response alarmed me so much that I dropped his cup of tea and it fell to carpet below the table. I stared in disbelief. I couldn't—I wouldn't!—skin children, or anybody.

He smirked slowly, "That one was a quip. Not serious."

I let out a heavy breath and unsteady laugh. "Oh. Right." I shook off the feeling of uneasiness and stooped down to retrieve the cup, but my heart sank again. As I lifted the cup I noticed a very obvious, v-shaped chip along the top rim.

"I'm so sorry, but it's chipped." I looked up to him slowly, fearing what punishment may follow for my carelessness. He stared at me and I couldn't read his expression.

"You can hardly see it." I added hoping that he wasn't too upset.

"Well, it's just a cup." He replied in an off-hand manner and I smiled in relief. Yes, I had a feeling that this deal wouldn't be nearly as bad as I originally thought.

"I'll just fetch another cup from the kitchen." I said turning away from him, but his voice stopped me.

"No. It's no matter. Just serve me my tea. Light cream, no sugar."

He wanted to drink from the chipped cup? His gaze hardened as I stood motionless so I quickly turned back to the tray and prepared his tea in the chipped cup. I placed it in front of him and returned to the tea tray on the other side of the table. I glanced at him again and he gestured for me to sit.

. . .

It was probably the most uncomfortable tea time I had ever had. Rumplestiltskin didn't talk. Mostly, he watched me.

He would pick up his cup, swirl the tea around, take a slow sip, set the cup down, and look at me. Then he would repeat the process over.

I tried to keep my mind off of his unyielding stares by taking in as many details of the room and its unusual objects as I could. There was a wizard's hat just to the right of the table. It was navy blue and had stars and crescent moons stitched onto it. I wondered where and how he might have obtained such a thing. I was tempted to ask him, but remembered that I was not a guest here.

"Shall I fetch our supper?" I asked instead. I was definitely ready to eat something, but I still didn't understand how this arrangement would work. He already told a few of my chores—which included serving him his meals, but what about my meals? Would I be joining him at the table, like I had joined him for tea? Would I be banished to eat in the kitchen? Would I even be permitted to eat the same meals he did, or would I be stuck with food scraps?

I had so many questions I longed to ask, but there was a strong power that exuded from the Dark One even as he leisurely sipped his tea. So I merely waited for his response, hoping he would give me further instruction.

"Have you much experience cooking?" His eyes seemed to narrow, it was a facial expression that gave me the impression he was trying to lift the answer out of my mind by scrutinizing my face. I remembered seeing the same expression on his face and he spoke with my father only this morning. I could tell that it was an automatic reaction for him to study people as they spoke; studying their movements to ascertain the truth. It made sense as our mannerisms were far more telling than words spoken.

I shook my head slowly. "We had a cook. I had few reasons to be in the kitchen. I have, however, read a few books about preparing foods and cooking…"

"What occasion led you to read about cooking?"

"I'm very fond of reading. And as the war waged on we had less and less access to outside materials. I've read every book I could get my hands on in the castle."

He stood up so fluidly it startled me. He approached me taking another sip of his tea and then he set the empty, chipped cup back on the tray in front of me. His presence alone was mesmerizing—terrifying, but mesmerizing.

"Follow me."

I watched him disappear around the corner before I came to my senses. I jumped up bumping the table, which caused the china to rattle. The last thing I needed to do now was to break more dishes. I took a deep breath and picked up the tray, slowly following him to the kitchen.

. . .

I added a pinch of pepper to the boiling liquid and stirred it again, then brushed the hair back from my forehead and turned toward the oven to check on the chicken. It was getting hot in the kitchen, leaning over the flames, stirring here, adding spices there. It would have been kind of peaceful if Rumplestiltskin wasn't sitting on the edge of the counter watching every move I made and correcting me when he saw fit—which was often.

"The soup needs more carrots, and you need to put those potatoes in with the chicken."

His voice filled the air with correctives so many times that I had stopped turning around to look at him when he spoke. I was definitely an amateur chef, but Rumplestiltskin knew which spices needed to be added and when, he knew how long the chicken had to be warmed, and we both knew that he would have been much better off making this meal himself. It was this thought that kept coming back into my mind as he directed my actions.

It made sense that he should know how to cook; he had lived alone for an unknown amount of time and everyone needs to eat. But why did he want me to cook for him when he was clearly superior at it? I just assumed that he would have used magic to prepare his meals and I would bring the food to him and clear the plates when he was finished.

But it was rather exciting: learning how to cook.

I cut the last potato into quarters and scooped the pieces up to add to the chicken. Then I grabbed a few more carrots from the vegetable basket, cut them, and added them to the soup. I felt a sense of accomplishment and pride. Things seemed to be going quite well for my first attempt in the kitchen.

"Let the soup warm until the chicken is done and then bring the food out to me. And I'll have some more tea while I wait."

"How long?" I asked in a panic when he slid off the counter. He was just going to leave me in here? I was somewhat enjoying myself, but I didn't want to ruin the first meal I cooked, especially not after learning about Rumplestiltskin's culinary prowess.

"How long what, dearie?" He almost looked amused, but it was hard for me to read his expressions. He could have been annoyed for all I knew.

"Um, how long until the chicken is done? I mean, how do I know?"

"When the inside is no longer pink. That's when it's done." He strode toward the door, but turned toward me to say, "don't forget the tea." Then he disappeared.

. . .

The dinner tray was much heavier than the tea tray had been, and I had to take slow, steady steps in order to keep the soup from spilling. I set the courses in front of where Rumplestiltskin sat and timidly watched him. I hoped it was cooked properly; I'd had enough mishaps with the tea set and didn't want to push leniency with my clumsiness.

I wondered what he could possibly be thinking as he stared at the food in front of him. Did I make a mistake? He held one finger up and beckoned me closer.

"Taste this."

His instructions were simple enough, but I was lost. Was this another cooking lesson? I tried to read his expression but I could not make out his intentions.

He held the spoon out to me, which I took, and, holding my hair back with my other hand, I scooped up a mouthful. For my first meal it was adequate, but nothing spectacular. I shrugged.

"I'm sorry. It isn't the most flavorful of soups. Do you wish me to add something to it?"

His eyes were narrowed and I was suddenly nervous as I realized he had been scrutinizing my expression looking for tells of some kind. I had apparently passed whatever test he had given me: after a few moments his stare softened, but not completely.

"I needed to check that you wouldn't try to poison my food as a way to escape. But just to be sure, you will eat all of the same food you serve me. My powers would delay any poisons you could find here, and I have potions to remedy the ailments, but it's much easier and quicker to see if you die first. It saves me the trouble of dealing with you afterward."

My mouth had surely dropped. He thought I might try to poison him? Clearly he had far more unscrupulous interactions with people than I could imagine. I felt my cheeks redden slightly with embarrassment. I was naïve. For all the knowledge I thought I possessed and all the books I had read, I hadn't even imagined the possibility of escape, yet he had already thought of every action to prevent any such schemes.

"You may fetch your own supper now, dearie." He had a curious look on his face, but I jumped at the opportunity to hide my face and further my embarrassment.

. . .

When I returned to the table we ate in silence. I cleared our plates and set the kitchen right before Rumplestiltskin lead me back up to my … room.

"I eat breakfast at nine and then you will begin your other duties."

I nodded my head in acquiescence, but I shivered as a breeze blew in from the uncovered windows. His eyes appeared vacant as he closed the door and locked me back in.

It was hard to believe I was trying to console my father about the war with the ogres only this morning. I listened to the wind howl again through the window and I tried to rub some warmth into my arms.

I turned to arrange the straw into a bed of sorts. It seemed I was more prisoner than caretaker, but even so, there was something about the Dark One that intrigued me. He was human enough to have me join him for tea and dinner, and teach me to cook, but there was always something dark lingering in his expressions that I couldn't quite understand.