A/N: Sorry it's been so long! Life has gotten crazy. This portion has turned into a two-part chapter. I don't know when I'll be able to post the second portion of it, so I just wanted to go ahead and get this one out. It's definitely a bit darker than any of the others, nothing graphic, but there are defiant mentions of torture.
It was dark and cold when he woke. Ever so slowly the imp's eyes adjusted to the low light thrown off by a torch hanging on one of the walls. The wane light allowed him to determine that he'd somehow found himself in a dingy cell once again. Usually Rumpelstiltskin walked into these little excursions willingly in order to prove a point to some noble or another. Usually he had a deal or price in mind with such ordeals. Usually he was in complete control of these situations. But then usually he didn't wake to find himself sitting down and chained to a wall.
Fear gripped the Dark One as he reached for magic only to find that he couldn't touch it. He could still feel his curse raging through his veins but even that seemed somewhat muted. Panic threatened to overtake him at any moment. The imp steadfastly pushed that aside in favor of taking in his surroundings. Thick metal shackles surrounded his wrists and ankles attaching him to the right-hand wall, just in front of the bars. His arms were spread apart and strung up at about shoulder height. His ankles appeared to be fastened to rings in the floor. The damned cuff that his father had slipped onto his wrist, sat under the manacle on his right arm. It wasn't a particularly comfortable position, but the imp had a foreboding sense that things could get much worse quite fast.
The cloak and boots he'd been wearing had been removed, leaving him in only his fine tunic and leather breaches. By turning his head, Rumpelstiltskin could see that while his cell was filthy it was also quite spacious. A fact that did not lessen his panic by any degree. Just when the Dark One had given up on finding anymore useful information, a shift of the shadows outside the bars caught the imp's attention. Had it just been his imagination or was there someone standing beyond his field of sight.
"Well this is rather unpleasant," a voice called answering his last question.
Rumpelstiltskin pulled with all his might against the chains that held him in attempt to strangle the man just beyond his reach. "You-" the imp growled, but the man cut off his insults quickly.
"Come now laddie, there's no need for all of that." Light from the single torch illuminated Pan's face, casting ominous shadows across the demon's mischievous face. "I just came to make sure they handled you properly."
Rage that had nothing to do with his curse seared through the imp. Once again, he'd made a misstep with his father. He'd allowed his desperation for his son along his ridiculously childish need for his father's acknowledgement to blind him. The demon staring at him now may resemble Malcolm in some ways, but any limited goodness that had existed within the man had obviously died in Neverland.
"You're a monster," Rumpelstiltskin hissed spitting the words at his father like venom. "And coming from me, that says something."
"Oh, please Rumple, don't say such things. You'll really cut me deep." Pan mocked as he crouched down in front of his son, only the bars and years of contempt between them. "Let's not pretend you won't deserve whatever they do to you here. You've always been a revolting thing but your little stint as the Dark One has certainly added to your sins, now hasn't it."
Unable to refute his father's assertions, but not prepared to back down the imp tried a different route. "So you made a deal with the little doxies for some pixie dust?"
"Aye," Pan admitted easily. "When the little gnats disappeared, I figured it must not have worked properly so I offered my assistance at catching the most dangerous creature in the realm." The Dark One's father smiled at that thought. "In exchange I go back to Neverland and they leave me in peace. Easy trade."
"Yes of course, you just had to sell out your own flesh and blood. Never been a problem for you," Rumpelstiltskin found himself incapable of keeping the betrayal out of his voice. He'd always known his father to be a right bastard but knowing something logically and facing it once again were very different things.
"It's not like you're the paragon of virtue on that laddie. You sold out your son too, don't forget," Pan chided. "Looks like I'll finally be rid of you this time. Have fun with the clerics boy." His father gave him one final mocking smile before standing and walking away. Leaving Rumpelstiltskin in the dark once more.
What seemed like several hours passed before Rumpelstiltskin heard the door at the end of the hall open once more. He'd wiled away the time thinking up escape plans, but he needed and wanted information before putting any such plan into action. A group of three clerics entered his cell. All dressed in what he supposed where long black cassocks meant to be disguised as robes. But he'd seen too many of these pious garments to be fooled so easily. The younger two looked almost identical with light hair and pale skin. Only the one's green eyes and the other's blue marked them as different beings. Twins then.
It was the older cleric that held Rumpelstiltskin's attention though. Long silver hair was pulled back revealing a face with sharp lines and high cheekbones. But it was the man's dark and cold eyes that set him apart from the others. Cruelty and malice clung to the man like a shroud, marking him as the leader of this little group and a high-ranking member of this order.
"I was growing concerned that you'd forgotten about me," the imp quipped in a high voice.
"Dark One," the eldest man replied. His voice was the gravelly sort that promised damnation and persecution with each syllable.
Rumpelstiltskin gave a mocking bow of his head "In the flesh. You seem to know me, but I've not had the pleasure of your name just yet. Care to share it?"
"That's not how this works Dark One. I ask the questions." Once again it was the elder who responded to the imp. The man in question walked towards the prisoner stopping only a few feet away, while the other two remained stationed by the door. From this new position, Rumpelstiltskin was forced to crane his neck in a rather uncomfortable position to maintain eye contact with the cleric.
The man was smart, that much was certain. Names were power and Rumpelstiltskin burned to know this one. But for now... "So what business do the clerics have with a degenerate like myself?"
The severe looking cleric gave him an almost approving nod, "You're clever, I'll give you that.
"Always nice to be appreciated," the imp jested.
"More clever than your predecessor at least." As the cleric spoke his two companions moved closer to their prisoner, until they flanked him on either side. One had picked up a long wooden staff from somewhere along the wall. An ominous sign in itself.
"So you knew Zoso? That contemptuous old bastard never struck me as the pious sort." Rumpelstiltskin was unsurprised to find that Zoso had had dealings with the clerics. Tricky old bugger like that was sure to have found trouble somewhere.
A smirk crossed the cleric's face, "No he wasn't. He managed to hold onto the dagger for almost a year before we re-acquired it and placed him in responsible hands."
"How very noble of you." That remark earned him a slap across the face.
"You'll find that a mouth like that will hurt you far more here than compliance will."
"I've never really been the compliant type," Rumpelstiltskin sneered. A dangerous smile playing across his lips. This time he was struck on to left side by the cleric wielding the staff. "You know if this is the kind of hospitality you're offering, it's no wonder that you're not able to keep clientele."
Several blows later the cleric continued. "You have something that can no longer belong to you Dark One."
"And what would that be exactly?"
"Your dagger. Give it to us and we'll make certain that it ends up in safe hands," the elder man asserted simply.
"Oh you'll choose respectable slave owners, how kind of you." The last came out as growl as the imp leaned forward as far as he could manage.
The man in front of him chose to ignore Rumpelstiltskin's reluctance instead directing his attention to his aides. "Get him up," the cleric directed.
Rough hands grasped the Dark One's wrists and unlocked the manacles holding him to the wall. Once his hands were free and the imp was on his feet the clerics pulled his shirt over his head.
Feeling terribly exposed, Rumpelstiltskin did his best to hinder their work, knowing escape was futile for now, but wanting to be as much of a nuisance as possible. Leaving his ankles attached to the floor they chained his wrists to chains hanging from the ceiling that he'd missed in his initial observation of the room.
"You have two options here Dark One. You can save yourself a world of trouble and tell us where the dagger is. Or we can make you tell us where it is. Your choice."
"Tell you what," Rumpelstiltskin suggested in a sing song voice, giving over completely to the Dark One to mask his growing terror, "you can pry that dagger from my cold dead fingers." It was cliched, but oh did it feel good to see fury flash briefly through the eyes of his jailer. "Or better yet," the imp continued "give me your name and I'll consider your offer."
The elder cleric chose to ignore the second part entirely. "We both know that death is not possible for you without the blade. Other than that, you can survive pretty much anything. Right?" Rumpelstiltskin merely stared coldly at the man, determined to not let any of the fear churning inside him show. "Have it your way then." The cleric whispered before stepping back and allowing his men to do their holy work.
One Week Later
The clerics had held him for an indeterminate amount of time. The only way Rumpelstiltskin could be certain days passed was by the change of the clerics who payed visit to his humble abode. He knew a few of their names. The few who were careless or those who'd enjoyed their work so much that he'd made a point of discovering their title.
He'd only been visited by the head cleric twice since his little induction to this current hellhole. Both of those visitations had been significantly unpleasant. But he'd finally learned something useful. So, on the man's third visit he was perhaps more cheerful than the occasion called for.
"Dark One," the bastard acknowledged walking up to Rumpelstiltskin who today found himself lashed to a table his hosts had so generously brought in. The cleric observed his men's work as he walked around the imp.
It took Rumpelstiltskin several long moments to catch his breath before responding, "So nice of you to stop by and see me Frollo. I'm always glad to take time out of my busy schedule to see an old friend." A wicked smile danced across the imp's face as the name registered to the older man. A slip of the man's mask informed the Dark One that his deduction was correct.
A steely look settled into Frollo's features and tension tightened the man's shoulders. "You've been busy," was the short reply.
"Oh Frollo," the Dark One sneered determined to use the name as often as possible. "You know I like to keep myself occupied during down time." Names held great power and right now he'd more than earned a little fun.
"Obviously you've been given too much 'down time.' We can rectify that. Unless of course, you're ready to give me the dagger."
Rumpelstiltskin merely laughed at the man who'd seen fit to have him tortured for the past several days. "You've been sloppy Frollo," ever utterance of the man's name infuriated him further and the Dark One could feel the power he would be able to hold over the cleric once he was free. "Most people know just how important it is to keep their name out of knowledge."
If the last words came out as more of a wheeze than anything else, that was just fine. He'd gained something over his jailer and the look on the man's face was worth whatever punishment Frollo deemed fit.
Several Days Later
Thankfully they'd left him alone for a short reprieve. The clerics had left him sitting and chained to the wall once more of course, but at least alone he was able to start pulling himself back from the edge of sanity. As best Rumpelstiltskin could figure he'd been here a little less than two weeks. Two weeks of non-stop torture was wearing on the imp, but he couldn't give in.
He had an escape plan prepared and in quiet moments like this he usually tried to gather enough of his sanity to work through that plan. Focusing his mind was becoming harder each day. The cleric's attentions alone were enough to ensure his brain was barely functioning. That added to their insistence that his lack of need for food and water meant they didn't have to provide such comforts, was enough to guarantee that his sanity was precarious.
Before the Dark One could even contemplate going over his plan, he heard the door at the end of the hall open once more. Tremors began shaking his body as it prepared for the next round. A brief moan escaped him at the sound of approaching footsteps. However, instead of his cell door swinging open he heard the torch pulled from its bracket.
Sudden light blinded him for a moment as it shone far too closely to his face. "Rumpelstiltskin," a quiet and scared voice whispered.
Something about that voice pulled the imp towards coherency. He knew that voice, but it couldn't possibly be who he thought it was. Not here. Not standing outside his cell in obvious danger. Rumpelstiltskin's eyes flew open as he turned his face to the bars.
In an act of complete control, the Dark One's jaw dropped as he took in the teenager standing in front of him. "Ches?"
A/N: Thanks for reading as always! Let me know what you think and as always see you guys in the next chapter. (Hopefully soon!)
