Gray dawn ascended regally over the snow laden valley nestled in the midst the perilous, white-capped mountains. The hostile, untamable land in which Rumpelstiltskin deemed home lay crisp and silent as a forlorn grave.
The sun climbed the jagged, rocky range till lavender and crimson painted the snowy fangs of the lighted peaks and dabbed the unblemished blue sky with ribbons of brilliance. All the world about the Dark Castle rested still and quiet as though the earth, covered snugly under a thick blanket of alabaster, slept peacefully even with the suns rise.
Golden rays slanted welcomingly into the squalid stone cell that imprisoned the beauty like a gentle message for her to awake. The sold woman sniffled fitfully as she snuggled down deeper into the dry, itchy straw that served as her bed. Her nose crinkled slightly against a stalk of bedding ghosting near her face. Somewhere in the night she had pulled the musty blanket over her body for warmth before succumbing to the blackness of dreamless sleep once more.
Mottled blue and black bruises from her run ached her body. Pain throbbed in the back of her mind as a constant reminder of what had been done to her.
Part of her felt as though the turmoil's of the day before had been but a dream, but the scratchy straw beneath and the thin coverlet wrapped above and the stony walls all about held testament the nightmare had not lurked in her repose of slumber.
The dreaded night and all its ill had been all too real and all too painful against her heart. No, she was no longer in the palace of her inventor father, but in the dungeon of a man-thing awaiting a fate of eternal thralldom.
Spurred by the unpleasant thought, the beauty frowned darkly in her light doze. Despite her tiredness she managed to force herself awake from the peace of black sleep. Fatigue heavily burdened her soul, but the events in the misty forest of her old home brought strength to her weary limbs.
Rising unsteadily, her feet tripping against the folds of her once golden gown not crusted with dirt and dried blood, she stumbled precariously to the thick door.
Gathering herself bravely, the beauty mustered as much decorum as possible. A new day dawned in her life and now with more of her bearings and senses she would be a better challenge for the gray-gold creature for her freedom.
Hand ready to bang upon the wood to grab anyone's attention she halted in midflight inches from the thick, iron banded door. By some instinct she tried the iron ring latch though common sense screamed it would be locked tight. Who would put a slave in a prison and not lock the door?
Grabbing the cold iron ring, she probed a testing shove to see if the door would give at all. Grit under the door crinkled with effort at her inquiry as though answering her silent query. Surprise marbled her face as the door swung open easily upon quiet hinges. She cringed as the door banged against the wall. Dust and dirt of ages crusted away in flakes from the wall, but nothing stirred from the dim hallway. No lock barred her path. She was free to roam from her cell at will.
The alcove before her was dark, but there it was before her, a path to freedom from her cage. A few low torches alit the way like a path of flame towards emancipation.
Praising her good fortune, the beauty tenuously peeked her umber head out of the threshold. Sure of her solitary presence, she tiptoed out of her squalid cage bravely. Drafty air nipped at her bruised, milky skin, as though a hint of the cold outside permeated the gray stone. The halls were dank and dark save for a few low glowering torches, more orange embers than fire, and scant slants of dirty sun that seeped through from squat, ugly gray windows at the top of the towering walls and mottled the filthy, dust ridden floors.
Ears strained to their limit, she detected not a breath or a scuffle of feet or even the clank of armor upon guards if there were any. Perhaps she was truly all alone.
Hope swelled like a powerful tide in her chest at the thought. Gladness sparked in her heart at the opportune moment. Had the creature forgotten about her? Had he gone to prowl the realms and bring misery leaving her to her own devices?
Thrilled, the woman crept carefully down the dim, drafty halls like a shadow against the stone walls. Despite the events of the previous day her memory was sharp as a warrior's whetted blade and her cunning doubly so. Remembering the snaking path the man, her master, had taken her was one that came with ease.
Boldness grew with each step as she traipsed the long, labyrinthine halls that seemed to stretch on for eternity. Ivory marble columns lined the walls and expensive trinkets and valuables stood upon alabaster pedestals back dropped with ornate tapestries from times gone by.
A cry of delight nearly escaped her lips as she found the monolithic doors and the grand vestibule that led to the outside world. Forgetting all stealth, the beauty raced to the titanic portals that offered freedom behind their wooden panes.
Her hands curled over the dark rings as though they were precious handles of gold. Freedom lay in only a few good tugs! Using all her paltry might she pulled at the doors preparing to feel the fierce mountains winds kiss her skin. With a grunt she heaved for life and freedom!
Disappointment filled her heart as bitter bile as the doors did not budge an inch. Gritting her teeth staunchly to stave off her panic, she pulled with all of her meager strength, but the doors where akin to stubborn mules she was trying to tug along! Not a single hair gave to her fierce pulling as she wore out what little energy she had left in her form.
"Trying to escape already?" A tittering voice clucked in mock disappointment, his voice more amused than anything else.
Turning swiftly, the beauty backed as far as she could against the doors. Hands behind her, she pressed against the barriers as though she would but sink through the doors and be free. She had been caught like a thief trying to make away with an expensive bauble.
Hair dishelmed, panting with exertion, she looked upon the thing warily. Her heart tumbled wildly in her chest at the voice she had heard only the night before. Blood departed from her lovely face, telling of her fear.
The creature stood easily before her. His garb was a bright russet hue and fine black leather attired grandly about his body. A white cravat was bound about his neck with a large star-like opal in the center. Eyes of ebony twinkled in merry amusement as though reveling happily in her abject failure to freedom.
Motioning a gray-gold claw to the door he leaned against an alabaster pillar lazily. Mirth tinged his tittering timbre. "Don't mind me, please keep trying in vain."
Enraged by his words she boldly took a step towards him, her eyes fearless and daring. "I will get out of this place."
"Not unless I say so, Dearie." Rumpelstiltskin shrugged, his grin transmuting into a nasty smirk. "I do not want you to leave the castle. The magic that was cast upon you when you were sold makes certain my wants are tended to. I cannot control your body without chains and fetters, but rest assured the magic will see you do not escape without such vile implements."
Refusing to believe the creature's cocky, sharp words, the beauty turned back to the large doors that held freedom. Renewed with vigor wrought forth from anger and melancholy and desperation she pulled at the iron rings with every fiber of her being. Sweat trickled down her temple, her muscles screamed with exertion as she pulled. She would not accept his ownership; she would not accept his words! Yet in her heart the truth rang clear.
Yawning politely into his hand, Rumpelstiltskin steepeled his wiry fingers into a loose pyramid. Placing his fingertips beneath his jaw he spoke softly, his words a careless trill. "You may of course keep at this like a fool, or you may follow me to find food."
At the mention of something to eat, the beauty ceased her fervent bid for freedom. Her stomach growled like a surly wolf, reminding her she had eaten nothing since the dawn of yesterday before her world had collapsed under her.
A sly smile traced his lips as he eased away from the column. Cunning eyes glittered like faceted black diamonds. "Ah so there is something you want more than freedom."
"Never." She snapped angrily, her voice feeling small in the grand vestibule. She sniffed imperiously trying to seem calm and assured. "But things must be put into perspective." Her escape would avail her nothing if she starved in the icy mountains or was frozen to death by the gnashing teeth of the wind and the deep blankets of snow.
He heaved his shoulders in a shrug. "Fair enough. Follow me girl. The Main Hall is where we will take all of our meals."
Seething, but famished, the beauty followed knowing she had little choice if she wished to still the growl in her stomach and dissuade the man's wrath. If he could halt her from leaving, what else could he do to her? Perhaps it was best to submit for the present. At least she would be fed and the citadel was warm.
The pair came to a large lavish chamber brimming with ostentatious riches. Trinkets of every sort filled dusty cabinets and dirty niches like a dragon's wealthy hoard all piled without rhyme or reason. A large fireplace was carved into one of the walls. Ash and char smoldered in the hearth, telling the fire was only recently dead. An oaken, oblong table rested in the center of the gaudy room reminding the woman of the feast tables in her old home. One chair, upholstered of burgundy leather rested at the end of the table like a king's throne.
A blue and white ceramic pot and matching cups and delicate bowls lay on a silver tray close to the farthest end where the singular chair stood.
Striding purposefully, the fiend eased himself down into the only chair in the room. Beckoning a talon to the tray he smiled widely, savoring her anger like a fine wine. "Breakfast will be along shortly. You may pour my tea now as you will do every morning."
For a tense moment the girl stared angrily at the gray-gold beast smiling before her. He could give her demands, but the thought of serving him galled the very marrow in her bones. Though she had never flaunted or much desired her station of princess, to be a slave prodded rebellious flames in her heart.
Still, she supposed dourly, her father's law upheld in her sale. She had no choice but to serve him. The deal had been struck no matter how she protested or wished it had not. Guilt stabbed at her chest cruelly as she recalled women in her village being arranged to marriages they detested or given to others to settle disputes. How long had she abided in silence to her father's laws while other women were treated like property? Was slavery her punishment for not trying hard enough to end the mad tyranny? Was this all a judgment upon her?
Sucking in a deep breath, as though forcibly relenting some part of her stubborn will, she complied dutifully. Steam whisked through the air in thin streams of fragrant vapors. The brown brew smelled close to peach, she supposed as she gathered the saucers and other implements. Pouring the tea with delicate care she handed him the only cup.
Smacking his lips happily he stared at her over the gaily painted rim of his blue and white cup. He could smell the power radiating off her like a pungent, but not unpleasant, odor. Puissant power snapped about her like lightening in a storm though she could not tell. Magic glowed merrily about her like a luminous aura only those gifted with magic and trained to spot it could see.
Gathering his words, he spoke in a feigned careless manner. "I hope the door incident was enough to finally prove that the bargain with your father was a true one."
Begrudgingly she nodded faintly in reply. Her delicate hands fiddled with a silver sugar spoon to avoid the victory sparkling in his eyes. There could be no denying it. She might as well have said the sun was green!
"Good." He chirped happily, taking no notice of the pain in her azure eyes. "Then let's get down to business. You will serve me my meals and clean the Dark Castle. You will launder my clothing and dust my trinkets and other things of worth. You will fetch me fresh straw when I spin at my wheel." At that, the curious woman perched her head up but he ignored the intrigue dancing in her bright eyes. Finishing the tea he handed her back the cup to refill as he continued easily. "And starting today I shall instruct you on the arts of magic."
"What?" The word babbled in disbelief from her mouth. Shock filled her in an overwhelming tide of emotions, her porcelain features cast in surprise. The cup dropped uselessly from her hands in astonishment. Surely his words had to be some cruel quip!
A sharp crack echoed about the hall, but for the moment both ignored the cup wobbling upon its fragmented side. "You will learn magic, Dearie." He echoed, unable to swipe the grin from his face. The look upon her face had been a priceless moment he determined to forever remember.
"W…why…?" She stared dumfounded at the creature. Magic was what had doomed her and now she was to make a livelihood of it? What powers of fate and irony had looked down upon her and cursed her so?
"I need someone with power." He revealed lowly, his voice laced with a hint of excitement. "Someone I can teach the bloodiest spells and darkest arts to. Someone I can control completely as they do my will. You will have your uses once your full potential is taught. And as your master I shall make use of them."
Later when she had fully learned to accept her fate and he was sure in the powers she could wield, she would be an assistant of sorts. He would send her forth gathering rare plants from about the realms whilst he could be doing more important things. There had always been too many deals coming from thousands of desperate people and being only one with such power he could hardly accommodate them all. Having another who could go forth and bring back trinkets or aid with his tampering and machinations would be a boon of the highest standard.
Before she could retort he raised a claw for her silence. "Don't bother to object, Dearie. You and I both know the outcome."
"You'll force me into this foul trade?" She spat dourly, her shoulders slumped with the burden of sadness. Anger twinkled like embers in her eyes. Was her fate truly to be what she had been taught all her life to hate?
"Not at all." The Dark One's grin stretched tight. "One cannot force magic, Dearie; either you learn or you will not, but you have no other option before you. We both know this is the only path you may take. Your family has forsaken you, your people have shunned you, and you are an outcast and slave and have nothing to your nameless self. Magic is the only bright focus in your pathetic life. The power than courses like fire through you veins is a single lifeline to clutch as you sink in the mire of ill fate. It is this or nothing.
"Being instructed you will learn the full extent of your powers and we both know rather well if you kill me, your master, well…." He flourished his hand lazily as though his words were on no concern or relevance. "Then you are a free woman. But you will never have the opportunity to slay me lest you know how to wield your skills."
Of course she would never be powerful enough to best him, but the extra incentive would surely make her take to the craft with a will. When she discovered she would never be as strong in the gift, she would be too far too turn back. Above all, he knew the lengths people would go to be free of fate, of others that ruled their lives through fear. Had he not been one such as that long ago; a slave to his cowardice?
A free woman. The thought burned like a brand in her mind, setting her thoughts ablaze in an inferno. Should she one day slay this man, this Dark One, her life would be her own once more neither controlled by master nor father. Oh the words were like a dream becoming life!
"But know this." Abruptly, his voice darkened to a deadly rumble like a growl from a rabid animal. Jaw set, his eyes were as narrow, sable arrows aimed at her heart. Darkness sprang to his blood in a surge of barbarity. "Know that if you try to kill me you get only one opportunity. For if you try to defeat me and fail, rest assured I will kill you."
Dangerous magic snapped through the air like electricity. Every word was a solemn oath uttered from his thin lips. Images of demise flashed through her eyes in a terrifying, blinding blur. He could do many terrible things before he killed her and if she did not slay him those things would surely come to pass.
Terror gripped the beauty with icy claws that dragged her heart down into the pit of her stomach. Every word he spat was true. "I…understand." Her voice sounded small and humble in the face of his quiet danger.
"Good." His smile lightened the black, murderous mood as he sat back in the chair. Legs crossed he stared happily at his dour slave.
Desperate to stare anywhere but his fathomless depths that promised death, her eyes fell to the cup lying pitifully at her feet. Kneeling in the remnants of her crusted, bloodstained dress, her fingers clutched the cup tightly as though he would snap upon her in his suddenly foul state. "I'm…sorry, but it has a chip…."
Staring down at her, the Dark One shrugged uncaringly, his dangerous mood fully gone. "It's just a cup." There was nothing important about it of course.
"Right." She managed a faltering smile. Placing the cup back upon the tray as rose gracefully. "So when do we get started with magic?"
"Right after breakfast." The fiend waved his hand laconically towards the table. Pewter bowls with steam curling from the contents rested upon the table. A chair appeared from a spurt of amethyst magic at the other end of the table.
"Our first lesson will consist of learning a few basics to magic." He continued as she numbly sat at the other end of the table. Weariness lined her face as she stared at the meal ravenously. Chewing a mouthful of gray looking food he gestured to her with his spoon. "And I will have to find you something else to wear. Slave or no, I shall not have my apprentice in trappings of rags."
Grateful for the inkling of kindness, the beauty managed a more genuine smile. "Thank you." She replied shyly, realizing how little she had.
"I'm still thinking." He remarked suddenly through a mouthful of food as though she had broached a question. Staring down into his bowl ponderously the fiend seemed lost in deep contemplation.
She blew on the hot meal. "About what?"
"Your name." He retorted softly. If she was too live and learn at his home, she needed something to suit her, something to explain what she was.
"Speaking of names." The girl circled the spoon about the rim of her bowl. "What shall I call you?" What would she call her captor, her slaver, her teacher?
He swallowed and shrugged uncaringly. "Rumpel if you like." His name was simply too long for most people to say over and over again, even in a curse as many did.
"Rum." She declared with a thin smile. The name slipped sweetly off her tongue with a strange ease of something delectable.
He glared over to her irksomely. "No not Rum, Rumpel." He corrected. Even as the words left his mouth he knew he had made and erroneous error on his part. Correcting her showed he cared.
She persisted, seeing an opportunity to get back at the creature for all his barbed wit and cruel amusement. "Rum. I like that instead."
"I don't." The Dark One growled, his appetite suddenly gone at his slip. Not in long centuries had someone dared defy him or even poke fun at him. Yet this brave, intelligent woman did so. Angered, he snapped upon her cruelly. "If you have such distaste to that name you will call me master, but not Rum. Are we clear?" His ebony eyes challenged her.
The girl shrugged this time, pleased to have turned the tables on his careless treatment of her. "Of course master…." Under her breath, but well enough for the fiend to hear she added mischievously. "Rum."
She had cheek, he knew imperatively. Frowning thinly, he took a tasteless bite of the meal. At the very least she was not a quivering mass of trembling fear, he soothed to his ire.
Part of him had to give a nod of respect to her bravery or foolishness. Did she not know of his vast power, of his cruelty? Did she not know how dangerous it was to poke a monster?
Uncomfortable with the odd thought, he grew silent as he pondered why she did not seem fearful of him and why he had insofar not showed her just how cruel he could be to draw that fear out. He had permanently maimed others for far less, and yet he sat their wondering why he did nothing to punish her.
~8~8~
"Our first lesson will be fire." Rumpelstiltskin explained sagely to his newly dubbed apprentice. After their meager breakfast he had quickly started a lecture on the primal laws of magic. The girl listened in rapt attention that gave him a thought she would be a good learner.
Waving a hand flippantly in the drafty air the fiend summoned magic to his behest. Power surged through his veins at but a thought, bringing forth the magic within. Purple clouds enveloped the appendage but quickly dissipated as smoke on the wind leaving a large tallow candle in his grip.
Placing the sizable candle upon the main hall table, he stroked the rigid black taper at its top to a fine point. "Flame is essential to all living things. It is also the easiest to conjure for humans. Without fire humans like you would not proliferate the world as you do. Fire protects and destroys and builds and demolishes. You can cook and you can burn. Heat a fire or demolish a hovel to ash. Flame is in your blood."
Leaning against the table he proffered his hand out to the yellowish candle. "Now, try to light the candle Dearie. Feel the warmth within your body. Picture the dancing flame in your mind and try to put that image upon the wick."
Nodding uncertainly, the beauty stared hard at the black wick, her mind summoning up images of fire. Fire leapt like frolicking hares in her mind, a conflagration that vomited from the maw of a volcano came to her thoughts, and the image of a small dancing flame lit by a window all dashed in her mind in a wheel of heat. Flame whirled and spun in a kaleidoscope all aimed to the candle.
Her father had oft scolded her imagination and the day dreaming she found herself enchanted with, now she was encouraged to use those gifts many a day dubbed a waste of time in her old life.
Minutes ticked by in dead silence as she concentrated her whole thought. Cold, sticky sweat beaded her brow that was beetled in consternation with the simple exertion. Breath came faltering from her lungs, but she forced herself to think of fire and the wick aflame.
Her stomach felt afire with the strange effort. The tips of her fingers seemed as though they were burning. Blood boiled from the fire within. Her body seemed to be catching afire, not the candle!
In a moment of panic she thought to sever the link. As she was about to wash the thoughts of flame from her mind, she was rewarded with a small spark upon the taper. Red flame leapt hungrily upon the wick with a steady tongue of fire.
A thrill of exhilaration sped through her blood in unusual glee. Though small was the flame, she had done it; summoned fire!
In a whoosh of heat the flame suddenly engulfed the candle leaving a small pool of wax and ashes where a candle once stood. Fire roared high in the moment of wildness, seeking out more to burn but failing in its gluttonous quest. Hands of fire shot out of the conflagration as though trying to grab her.
A cry of surprise escaped her lips as the fire roared and diminished in the blink of an eye. The heat brushed her face but little more as it descended from its conflagration into a series of small, bickering fires upon the table.
Just thinking of the flame had worn her out in a hearts beat. Her face felt red from the blast of the fire that engulfed the candle.
"Excellent Dearie." The fiend crowed with unabashed delight as though taking no notice of the fire dancing upon his table. Waving his hand once more, the guttering fire remnants upon the table died. Thin trials of black smoke curled to the ceiling as the only indication of the awry magic.
"I was dubious you could do it so early on." Rumpelstiltskin admitted aloud. Putting a hand to his chin he added. "While your power is vast, you do lack control. I think that will be our biggest hurdle."
Breath wheezed in her lungs as she looked into his eyes. Anger bubbled in her heart towards his words. "You mean…you mean you asked me to do this, knowing I could very well fail?"
"You will fail many times." The Dark One replied sagaciously as he walked behind her oaken, high backed chair. His fingers curled about the wood as he looked down at her from the top of the seat. "Magic is not like weaving or blacksmithing. It is a delicate craft that requires a skill beyond those of flesh or mind. Magic comes from something deeper, something tied to our emotions. I did not lie to your father when I said you will face things worse than death. Some magic is very dangerous and tricky. Pain comes with our craft as you no doubt experienced. But the rewarded." He chuckled lowly, his eyes glimmering devilishly. "The reward makes it all worth it."
Flourishing his hand he banished the blackened mars on the table. "Enough for the day, girl. Now it's time for you to clean. The castle needs a caretaker now, not an apprentice."
As the beauty rose tiredly he pointed a talon to a closed red door at the side of the main hall. "You can start in the larder and work into the kitchen. Remember, I want another pot of tea at four. I shall be at my wheel thinking if you need me."
Rebellion burned hot in the beauty to be treated as an owned thing once more, but she complied dutifully.
~8~8~
"Not a bad start." Rumpelstiltskin admitted whimsically as he escorted the beauty down the corridor to her dungeon.
Silently, the girl rubbed the back of her aching, knotted neck. After their small lesson she had spent the rest of the day scrubbing and dusting the larder and the kitchens. In the interim, she had tried using the focus of flame once more only tiring herself out more.
Her body ached in places she didn't know existed as she walked beside the monster. Magic was a fatiguing thing along with back breaking labor. Was her fate always to be too exhausted to do anything but sleep as the sun went down?
The door to her cage swung open lethargically with an inkling of his purple magic. Wordlessly, she lumbered in. Abruptly a humoring smile curved her tired lips as she reveled in the humble sight of the straw awaiting her. How could an old blanket and a pallet of straw look so welcoming? Her bed in her father's palace had never looked so fine to her tired body.
"You will awake at dawn to have my tea prepared. Afterwards you shall gather the straw from my stock and lay it beside my wheel." He informed her in a trill. "And one more thing." Purple magic clouded the air at his words.
At the tingling of dark magic flitting uneasily through the air, the girl turned about. Surprised, she sucked in a breath to see what lay in his hands. A blue dress rested in his hands like an offering. The garb was simple, yet looked beautiful in its humble fashion.
"I promised you a dress." He held out the attire almost bashfully, his lips hiding a wide smile. "This is yours. I don't want to see you in that gold rag anymore."
Taken aback the beauty took the soft cotton dress. "Thank…you." Touched by his gift she turned away from him, her mind wondering where she could put the garb without having the dirt and muck of her prison mess her attire.
"Belle." He declared aloud as she looked longingly at the meager pallet of straw and the thin blanket.
She turned to him, her eyebrows knit curiously. "What did you say?"
"What I've decided to name you. Your new name is Belle." He explained with something akin to gruff gentleness. Abruptly he lifted her chin in his hands tenderly as though observing her intently. "The name fits you. Good night Belle."
In an instant the door closed and he was gone; the only remnant of the creature the fading echo of his boots along the stone.
Staring down at the soft garment in her hand, she felt the fibers and little needlework of the blue. Why had he done such a thing? He could have easily have left her to rot in her old torn clothes as a permanent reminder of where she had come and what she had been. Yet he chose to wipe that life away as though it had never been.
A smile came unbidden to her lips as she stroked the cloth tenderly. "Belle." She mulled over the moniker given by her master. The title he gave her wasn't bad, and at least, she felt tears brimming in her cobalt eyes at the thought, at least it was hers if nothing else.
