Chapter 2: The Dark Castle
"Obstinate," I muttered, my heels clicking on the stones that lead away from the Dark Castle.
Red heat flares in my cheeks leaving an ugly stain. He could have his castle and the invisible hands that do his bidding. He will not get from them the prize he desires. There is something much deeper than the need for power running beneath the coloring that taints his skin. Something darker, an appetite, so powerful, so scathing that desire could hardly begin to name it.
"You will regret this, Rumpelstiltskin," I called, looking back.
A shadow flickers at the window of the high tower; a figure clad in shirtsleeves- and leather. Longing flashes bright, heat coursing through my veins with a jolt. I steel myself pressing aside my passion, my need to return. I mock myself; you were to be the hero that tamed the beast!
I cannot go back, I will not.
Dark branches sway above me groaning as they spread their lonely arms over my head. Dusk turns to night and my shadow stretches out before me, wavering as it leads the way. Soon it will be black as pitch and I will be alone in the night. I shudder at the thought.
But I press on.
Lights appear before me adding a glow of hope to the gloom. A tavern looms ahead and for the price on my broach I drown my sorrows in a mug of beer. But it is little consolation. My thoughts turn away from the rowdy dwarfs drinking flagons of ale and back to the mysteries of the one they call the Dark One. My heart races and I cannot catch my breath as I bring hazy dreams to life in exquisite detail; his lips pressing mine open, his nimble fingers tracing the curves of my soft, trembling, untainted flesh.
The noise, the drink, the heat of the tavern is smothering me, and I stagger outside away from safety, into the night.
"Whose there!" I cry at a rustling in the brush. But the dark forest bears me a silent reply. There it is again. Something is moving, fast, a pounding growing louder as it draws closer, echoing the drumming of my heart. Then a fiery stead bursts from the trees, it's rider clad in black armor, his face an iron mask.
"Who are you?" I cry.
"A friend," the rider says, reaching out his hand for me to grasp.
As he does a wolf bounds snarling from the brush.
The rider clasps my hand pulling me on board and the beast backs away. A sobering fear washes over me as I realize I've been tricked. Then the rider spurs his steed into the night, into the dark forest, towards the castle of the Queen.