Rumplestiltskin

by Jenni James

  She stepped back, her eyes taking in his healthy, much larger form. When he stopped right in front of her, she had to look up nearly eight inches just to meet his gaze. “Rumple?” she asked. She had always believed him to be handsome—but now, now it was almost too painful to comprehend. He was stunning—nearly too handsome. It did not seem right to have him so.

  He knelt down upon one knee in front of her, his fingers clasping hers, and looking up he said simply, “I will always be your Rumplestiltskin, if you will have me?” He then brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

  Those lips, those soft beautiful lips upon her skin. Her arm instantly exploded with the sensation of a thousand kisses racing up to her shoulder and down her spine. It was most definitely her Rumple. When his grey-blue eyes sparkled up at her, she could not help it. “Yes!” she cried. “Yes. It was you I pledged myself to in this wedding anyhow.”

  The minister pushed a frozen Marcus aside and asked Frederico, “Do you promise yourself to her?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then I seal upon you the covenant of husband and wife. You may kiss your queen.”

  The room roared to life.

  Aubrynn stepped up a step to stand where the throne was and tugged him to stand below her. Their eyes were almost even again. Almost. He was still a bit taller, the menace. Wrapping her arms around his flawlessly strong and straight neck, she brought her forehead to his and grinned. “You may be way too attractive for your own good, but you better still kiss the same, or I may have that witch transform you back.”

  Without wasting a breath, Frederico swept her up in his arms and proved he could kiss every bit as wonderfully as Rumple did.

  When he began to remember the audience all around them, he pulled back a bit, their arms still around each other. Shaking his head slightly, he just stared at her.

  “What?” she asked. “What has put such a look upon your face?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for marrying me. And thank you for risking your life to do so.”

  She grinned. “I love you. You risked your existence for mine, ‘tis only fair to do the same, my dear.”

  “Tilly was correct.” He chuckled in disbelief. “She had always said those stones would change my life. She was not jesting—they did. They brought me to you.”

  “And a good thing they did, too! What would I do without you?”

  He raised a handsome eyebrow. “So, previously, were you saying you were attracted to me? The new me—Frederico?”

  “I am saying just because you are pretty does not mean you get to treat me any differently than my perfect Rumplestiltskin did.”

  “And by not treating differently—you mean not kissing differently, correct?”

  “Obviously, my dear.”

  “Good.”

  And with that, he swept her up in his arms again and kissed her quite thoroughly for all the kingdom to see how a true king behaves with his queen. For no king and queen truly in love will ever halt at just one heart-stopping kiss.

  * * *

  His Royal Majesty King Frederico Baldrich Layton and his beautiful bride Her Royal Majesty Queen Aubrynn and their four children ruled together for many years in extreme peace and happiness. They were forever abundant and generous with their gifts and saw to it all the villagers in their kingdom were handsomely blessed as well. Each family received a new and spaciously built home with their own attached relieving room.

  After the wedding, Frederico made sure his brother Marcus went directly to work within the castle walls. There was only one punishment he knew that would torment his brother most. And so the king had him oversee the melting of the gold and creating the coins to be distributed among the people. What sweet irony to have to watch all those glistening coins going forth out of the castle and into the hands of those most deserving of it all.

  To be safe, Rumple—for his dear queen still insisted upon calling him that—guaranteed there were at least two guards stationed around Marcus at all times. Not protecting him, of course, but protecting the people’s gold from him.

  When he was not sulking, or not sweating and miserable within the dreaded heat of the castle furnace creating the coins, Marcus could be found curled up upon a straw bed, in a cellar under the kitchen, surrounded by his old wooden toys and landscape windows.

  The queen died shortly after the wedding, and no one remembered to mourn for her. Though to be fair, Aubrynn did have Frederico’s old headstone done over and the queen’s name carved within it, and allowed her to be buried in exact same spot of ground where she had told the world her son was.

  Aubrynn’s own father had to sober up—for there was a declaration sent throughout the land that the king’s gold could not be spent on ale or other strong drink—that must come from their pockets alone. And since Aubrynn’s father had not a job of his own and a farm to run without a daughter to do so for him, he found himself having to buckle down and work the land again—thus tilling and creating the necessary means to contribute to the society once more and all that the community would have him become. Especially as his daughter was the queen, he was expected to be the greatest example of them all. He eventually became a great landowner and had several of the younger lads working for him—and finally retired as a satisfied old grandpa, bouncing young princes and princesses upon his knee and telling those children the great tale of when his daughter, their mother, proved to the kingdom she could turn straw into gold.

  THE END

  CINDERELLA

  CHAPTER ONE

  ELLA PICKED UP THE last basket of clothing, her arms strained from attempting to carry the heavy wet mass the twelve or so feet to the drying line. Thankfully her stepmother had the gardener place the line closer to the house and in its shade, due to the sun lightening her clothes, or Ella would have had to walk even farther from the washing room. Most fine houses used the drying lines in the washing rooms, but Lady Dashlund preferred to have hers outside on warm days and so making the work twice as hard for Ella.

  As Ella was shaking out the last of the petticoats, she overheard her stepsister Jillian shriek.

  Oh, dear, she probably saw a mouse.

  Ella sighed and quickly snapped the lacey fabric onto the line and, tossing in the remaining pins, picked up the basket and ran toward the large manor home. No doubt they would all be in an uproar and would be upset if they could not find her.

  Another shriek rang out loud and shrill as Ella slipped her outer shoes off in the entrance near the servants’ quarters and tucked the wet apron to dry onto one of the wooden pegs, mounted upon the stone wall. She could clearly hear her stepmother shouting by the time she managed to wrap another clean apron around her waist and head quickly up the servants’ stairs.

  Brushing and smoothing her dress with her hands as she went, Ella tried to remain calm. This summer had been especially difficult to keep the mice population down. The whole kingdom suffered from the vermin. And her stepmother and stepsisters seemed to take the sight of them the hardest. Ella was the only one of the four brave enough to try and catch any of them. And she had better do so quickly before their tempers got the best of her family. That was all she needed, Lady Dashlund in a foul mood. Then the whole house would pay for several days.

  As she rounded the corner into the large immaculate corridor, her feet tread upon the fine lush carpet her father had chosen. It was one of the final improvements to the house he had made—ordering those sumptuous rugs from the Orient to be lavishly displayed throughout rooms—before he passed on a few years back. Her heart lurched. Oh, how she missed that man. How there were days when she truly needed him near her.

  Ella approached the drawing room and attempted one last time to make herself presentable before she entered. She was rather surprised to hear laughter and joyous sounds coming from within. Taking a step into the room, she beheld Jillian and Lacey laughing quite loudly and dancing about together like small girl
s.

  Finding her stepmother across the room near the rose colored settee, she walked up and curtsied. “Is there anything I can do for you? I heard the shouting and came as quickly as possible.”

  Lady Dashlund shooed her away with a wispy white handkerchief and a rather large smile upon her face. “No, no. We are not in need of anything. We are all quite elated. You are welcome to continue with your chores, we will call you when we need you.”

  It was then that Ella noticed the small missive in her stepmother’s hand. They must have had some good news. Curious, but not willing to risk her stepmother’s wrath, she simply said, “Yes, milady.” Ella nodded her head and dipped into a short curtsy and turned to go.

  “No.” Miss Dashlund, Lacey, halted in mid twirl and put her foot down to catch her balance. “Ella cannot go just yet. We do need her, Mother, think, the duke is coming here in only a few minutes. We need everything to look splendid! He is coming! He is coming! And this time—this time I shall finally secure him.” Lacey squealed and shrieked loudly and then picked up her sister’s arm and began dancing about again.

  “Girls, enough,” scolded Lady Dashlund, though she was smiling. “It is time you freshen up and stop gallivanting around or you will be quite flushed when he comes.”

  Miss Dashlund twirled Jillian out in a final spin and then giggled with her as they stopped their play. “Oh, is it not the most glorious day?” She smiled beautifully and waltzed her way to the settee all the way to her mother and clasping her hands within her own.

  “Yes. It is.” Lady Dashlund grinned down at her daughter before turning toward Ella. “Will you please let cook know to send up tea for us as soon as the duke arrives—and make sure she adds a little something special—something to make him stay this time.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, and when you are through, please sweep off the front step. We do not want him walking up to the house when it looks such a sight.”

  “Yes, milady.” She curtsied then and rushed from the room. She would have to be quick to clean off the whole of the front steps before the duke arrived. Lord Gavenston rarely came late. In fact, more often than not, he was early.

  She hoped for his sake and Lacey’s that she would not blunder this meeting like she had previously. Ella winced. Lacey was always incredibly graceful—unless His Grace was around—and then, quite simply, she became a bumbling buffoon, and would somehow or another cause great catastrophes when he was near. Hopefully this time, all will be well. Ella crossed her fingers for luck just in case. After all, the sooner Miss Dashlund was gone from the house, the fewer chores Ella would have to do for her silly stepsister.

  * * *

  “Oh, no! You are not getting me to step foot into that house.” His Royal Highness Prince Anthony chuckled as he drew in the reins on the beautiful horse, causing him to stop in his tracks about a half mile down the road that would eventually lead them to Lady Dashlund’s rather exquisite manor. The manor he could tolerate. It was the family that made him shudder.

  “But you promised,” Lord Gavenston replied, drawing his rather fine black in as well.

  Anthony shook his head. “No, I did not. I promised to accompany you on some errands, Cousin. I did not promise to waltz myself into that home and be prodded and fawned over like some ninny. Why, those girls could cool the east, lowering the temperature a whole two degrees with their eyelash fluttering alone.” The prince ridiculously fluttered his lashes in the midst of the most glorious of roadways. With fine green hills and rows of delicious apple and sturdy oak trees, some of the greatest lanes in all of the kingdom. And here the prince was—looking the fool instead of enjoying the marvelous countryside.

  Zedekiah laughed. “You are quite awful, you know.”

  “I kno-ow!” he replied in a sing-song voice. The type of voice reserved for pantomimes.

  “And you look like a nincompoop.” He clicked his tongue and tapped his mount to press onward. “I, for one, would rather not wish to be seen with you anyway if you are to act this way.”

  “I cannot. I simply cannot do it,” Anthony replied as he tapped his horse as well. “My mother would have my head if she knew I had even spoken to them, let alone stepped in their house—and you know it!”

  “This is why I had to sneak you away so you would accompany me.” Zedekiah looked over as Anthony came up. “You know the queen forces me to run these errands because she and Lady Dashlund were schoolgirls together. You know she does it to pay particular courtesy to her longtime friend. But she would rather be seen dead than conversing with the woman. Which is why the duke must be her go-between. And honestly, I wish anything—anything other than this task.”

  “I pity you, but I cannot risk it. They would devour me in a heartbeat.”

  “Come! You have not been here for ages—a good five years at least. They may have grown since then.”

  The prince crowed. “Yes, and this is why you need me to hold your hand. Because they are such proper ladies and behave so well! No, my mother has told me the antidotes that family has caused the royal castle alone. I have sheets and sheets written to me of nonsense this Miss Dashlund has done—do you have any idea how much it cost my mother to host them the last time they came? The amount of shrubs she had to replace because of that girl’s foolishness?”

  “Which is why I need someone with me now. I would rather come out of there in one piece!” Zedekiah begged. “Please, come in?”

  Anthony stared at him as their horses rounded the corner of the lane. The great house was about forty feet in front of them. He looked up and then reached over—his hand waving his cousin to a halt. “Who is that on the steps?” he asked quietly as both horses stopped.

  “I do not know.” Anthony peered at the girl he was pointing to. “It looks like a maid of some sort. Why?”

  “Because I could have sworn it was Ella.”

  “Ella?”

  “Yes, Eleanoria Woodston, Lord Dashlund’s daughter.”

  “Who? I only know of Miss Dashlund—Lacey, I believe, and Jillian, the younger one, his stepdaughters. There is a third?”

  “Precisely. No one has heard of her in years—and so has forgotten she existed. But I do not. She was the only girl who could outride me during the summer festivals, do you remember? When we were about eleven or twelve or so how she would boast about it and make everyone angry?”

  “More likely just make you angry. We were all laughing. But, yes, I do remember now. The only girl who could outstrip the prince in any event.” He chuckled.

  “Yes, but she did not know I was the prince then. Father would have whipped me good if he knew you and I were creeping out in the stable boys’ clothing and dirt to be amongst them all.

  Zedekiah laughed. “Risking our necks was not on our parents’ agendas for the festivities, no.”

  “Precisely. Which is why we would have to slip out to have the fun. Who enjoyed being in a castle looking down at the village below when you could be down there experiencing it all?”

  “Oh, how I miss those days.” Zedekiah twisted on his saddled. “Of course, now you have lost your adventurous streak, have you not? You will not even go into a house to say hello to your old friends.”

  “Hush. Listen to me.” He rode his horse several paces closer. “I do believe it is Ella. Though why is Lord Dashlund’s daughter dressed like a servant? And why has no one heard of her in ages? Something is not right here and I want to get to the bottom of it.” He waited until Zedekiah approached. “I will have an adventure, just not the one you would want me to. Do me a favor, do not announce to her who I am. And especially do not let the family know I am with you as well! Tell them you came with an outrider of some sort if you must.”

  Zedekiah’s eyes met the prince—if he remembered correctly, Anthony protested way too much about liking the feisty Ella all those years ago. Perhaps this was exactly what the stubborn man needed to bring him out of his dismal mood.

  “Go in alone and I will keep Ella company ou
t here,” Anthony said.

  He grinned. “As you wish. So, uh—what do we call you, then?”

  “Do you not remember? I always went by my middle name among the villagers.”

  “Ah, yes! Jonathan. Good, ol’ John. My, er, outrider.”

  “Precisely.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jenni James is the happy mother of seven boisterous children and the author of several book babies that include: Pride & Popularity, Northanger Alibi and Persuaded from The Jane Austen Diaries for teens and Prince Tennyson an inspirational novel. She enjoys writing clean literature for children, teens and adults. Look out for more of her Faerie Tale Collection! To get all the latest news and updates come find her on Facebook (Author Jenni James) or visit her website authorjennijames.com. She loves to hear from her readers and can be emailed directly at jenni@authorjennijames.com

  Rumplestiltskin

  Jenni James © copyright 2013

  All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  StoneHouse Ink 2013

  StoneHouse Ink

  Boise ID 83713

  http://www.stonehouseink.net

  First eBook Edition: 2013

  First Paperback Edition: 2013

  Cover design by Phatpuppy Art

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published in the United States of America

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