Through a Glass Darkly

Chapter Two: The Runaway

Princess Blanche sat in her bed chamber, tears flowing down her face. She had just recently turned fifteen, and her father, the King, had told her that he had finally decided on a wife for himself. She had been overjoyed, since King Derek had been in deep mourning ever since the death of Isabelle, her mother, when Blanche was seven. Isabelle had made the King promise that unless his new wife had the same dark hair, green eyes, and pale skin as her, then he would not ever marry. Derek had promised, and for years he rejected every woman that came his way.

Meanwhile, Blanche had been growing up, and her uncanny resemblance to her mother had become the source of castle gossip, eventually reaching the ears of her father. It was then that he decided to honor his wife's wishes by wedding his daughter. "After all, she looks so like her mother."

His councilors had been horrified, claiming that such a union would bring nothing but shame and ruin to him and to the kingdom. But the King had refused to listen to anyone, and set the date for the wedding. In three months, Blanche would become the unwilling victim of an incestuous union. The very thought made her want to die. She had begged, pleaded, and cajoled with her father to change his mind, but he had merely patted her head and given her a smile that made her shake in terror and flee from the room. It was time for more desperate measures.

King Derek was sitting on his throne when Blanche came in, her head held high. "Father, I have been thinking, and I realize there is no way for me to get out of this…arrangement. Therefore, I wish to ask you for four things. I want three dresses: one that is as golden as the sun, another as silver as the moon, and the last as shimmering as the stars. I would also like a mantle made of one thousand pieces of fur, and each animal in the kingdom must have given their pelt. If you provide me with those things, then I will consent to…our union." Blanche stared at him, hoping that she had provided him with and impossible task.

"It shall be done, my dear."

Two weeks later, he came into her chambers, the dresses and mantle in his arms. "Now, we can be married, for I have given you all you ask." Blanche had kept silent, fearing her voice would crack with horror if she spoke.

That night, she folded her dresses up until they were small enough to fit inside three walnut shells, put on the mantle and coated her face and hands with soot from her fireplace. That done, she ran out of the castle as fast as her legs would carry her.

Her path took her through the forest, and she found herself trembling at each sound. She had been rather sheltered for her entire life, and her tender feet-for in her haste she had forgotten her shoes- were being cut by the sharp rocks that dotted the path. She had been running for what seemed like hours, but she didn't dare stop. Then she heard a loud howl that made her bones turn to water. It sounded again, and to her horror she noticed an enormous wolf, its eyes red and mouth dripping foam advancing towards her. She screamed, and screamed, then turned to run, not caring that she was going off the path, and the wolf howled and ran after her, jaws snapping. Blanche turned her head for an instant to see if it had gained, and her feet became tangled in a tree root. She fell to the ground with a cry, and threw her arms over her face, waiting for the wolf to deliver the killing bite. The wolf gathered itself and sprang, and Blanche shut her eyes tighter and hoped her death would be quick.

After a while, she became aware that her throat was still intact. She didn't dare move, though. Perhaps the wolf was merely toying with her. She stayed perfectly still, and then she heard someone speak. "You can open your eyes, it's dead."

Blanche lowered her arm and opened her eyes. Sure enough, the wolf lay dead, an arrow lodged in its back. She began to shake and sob in relief, and her rescuer, a young woman about five years older with black hair, a hunter's outfit, and a bright red cape, put an arm around her. "Th…thank you! I…that horrible animal!"

Red smiled at the girl. "You're welcome, but what are you doing in the Forest at night? It's a dangerous enough place in broad daylight. Who are you running from?"

Blanche gulped. "I…who says I'm running from anyone?"

Red sighed, giving her a look. "Because you aren't wearing shoes, you've got on quite the fine dress under that mantle, and…" she reached up and wiped away some of the soot on Blanche's arm "you're trying to make sure nobody recognizes you. So, who are you running from?"

Blanche blinked back tears. "My…my father. Please, I can't go back there! I won't! I…" she began to sob and Red hugged her.

"Come on, I'll take you someplace to get those cuts of yours looked at. Maybe even get you some food. It probably won't be the rich fare you'd be used to, but it's good." Blanche smiled at her in gratitude, and Red helped her up, leading her to the cottage she shared with Rumplestiltskin.

The imp in question was sitting on the couch, amusing himself by making the broom sweep the cottage by itself, while humming under his breath. "Ba bump ba da dump da dump…" He looked up when Red came in, Blanche in tow. "Quite the interesting creature you caught, Red. I've never seen a pelt like that."

Red merely rolled her eyes at him. "Rumple, what did I tell you about using that spell? The last time you tried it, you nearly flooded the cottage."

Rumplestiltskin pouted at her, and she glared right back. "Fine. Spoilsport." He snapped his fingers and the broom fell to the floor, inanimate once more. "Now, who's the girl?"

Red shrugged. "I don't know, I found her in the forest. She's running from her father, and she's rich, but other than that, I've no idea who she is."

Blanche had been staring at Rumplestiltskin in awe for several moments, and she suddenly burst out, "You're Rumplestiltskin!" He nodded, and she blushed. "I…uhh…my father told me all about you."

Rumple giggled. "Did he now? Whatever did he say about me?"

"He said that you were evil, and powerful, and not to be trusted, and that you were inhumanly ugly, and that you devour the children you're given."

Rumplestiltskin blinked, and then cackled. "Well, dearie, I am extremely powerful, and as long as nobody breaks a deal I make with them, I can be trusted. As for the evil part, I'm not exactly good, but I'm not a cackling villain…I just like cackling. I eat what everyone else eats, and I happen to have a lover that thinks I'm quite handsome. Now, you know us, but we don't know you. Tell me, Princess, why have you run?"

Blanche gaped at him. "How did you know I was a princess?"

Rumple grinned. "I didn't, actually. I just guessed. Which one are you, anyway?"

Blanche sat in a nearby chair and began her story. "My name is Blanche. I'm fifteen years old. My father has a small kingdom on the border. It's mostly farmers and blacksmiths. My mother died when I was seven, and on her deathbed she made my father swear that unless he was able to find a woman that looked exactly like her, he would never marry. My father swore, and for a while, all was well. But then….he began to realize that there was someone in the kingdom that looked exactly like his late wife."

Red felt icy fingers creep up her spine. "His daughter."

Blanche nodded, trembling. "He came to me with an offer of marriage. I tried to stall him by asking him for what I thought was impossible, but…it was no use. He gave me what I asked for, and set…the date. I ran as soon as I could, and now I am alone, friendless, and homeless. I have no real skills other than cooking, and I would not survive one second on my own. But I can never again go back home as long as I live."

Rumplestiltskin spoke up. "You can cook?" Blanche nodded, and he grinned. "Excellent. I think I may be able to find a place for you in the local lord's kitchens. He owes me a favor, you see. In the meantime, dearie, the couch is quite comfortable. I suggest you get some sleep."

Blanche smiled at him gratefully, and then whimpered. "My feet…"

Rumple glanced down at them, frowning. "Well, that can't be good. Red, there should be a salve in the cupboard." Red fetched the salve, and Rumplestiltskin handed it to Blanche. "Just smear this on your cuts, and they'll be healed. Just a warning, though-the stuff smells bloody awful. Red, may I speak to you outside?"

Red followed him outside, and then turned to face him before speaking one word. "No."

"No what?"

Red sighed. "No, you cannot turn her father into something horrid. That's what you were going to speak to me about, right?"

Rumplestiltskin punched the cottage wall in anger. "Yes, it was! Red, what he's thinking of doing to his own daughter is reprehensible!"

Red smiled at him in bemusement. "This coming from The Dark One." He glared at her in anger, and she placed a placating hand on his arm. "I'm sorry; I should not have said that."

He linked his fingers with hers. "I know. It's just…the idea of a father doing that to his child…it's appalling to me." He kissed her knuckles. "I was a father once."

"Did you have a son or daughter?"

Rumple leaned against the wall. "A son. His name was Baelfire. He's gone. Red, I will do my best to cloak this child from her father, but she won't stay hidden forever. He will find her some day, and then…" he trailed off, smiling, and Red trembled at the sheer rage contained in that smile.

She had no doubt that every word he was saying was true.