Hope sprang to life within her. She dared hardly even to say it, but… "You want to marry me?" she asked in disbelief. She looked down at her tattered brown skirt. How could a prince want a peasant like her?
“I don’t blame you if you think it’s absurd,” he blurted. “You haven’t been raised as I have, to expect no choice in the matter. This has all been thrust upon you so suddenly whereas I always expected to have to marry some ice queen from some far off the continent.”
“And then you showed up. And you were sweet and pretty and—Yes, I want to marry you.” He straightened.
A little squeak left her mouth.
“I know we barely know each other, but I promise to treat you well if you'll have--”
“Yes!” she exclaimed.
A grin tugged at his mouth. “Yes?” he repeated hopefully.
Her smile echoed her answer. “Yes,” she said again.
The imp watched from his invisible perch in the rafters as the girl blushed and let the prince brush a kiss across her knuckles.
Prince or king, it mattered not to him which one she married. The girl would still bear a child of royal blood. And in this time of waning magic, that was more important to him than ever. It would keep him supplied with magic; prevent him from having to turn to other means to ensure power always flowed through his veins.
The imp’s bargain with the miller’s daughter was safe. He was certain.
After all, the only escape clause in their contract lay in her ability to guess his name.
And there was no way she would ever, ever guess that it was Rumpelstiltskin.
The prince’s father hadn't been long for this world after the miller's daughter married the handsome prince. Bennett swore the king hadn’t been a cruel man when he’d been younger. And when he died, the palace physician had confirmed it with an autopsy: a disease of the mind.
And without the former king's presence casting a long shadow over their marriage, the love between Renee and Bennett blossomed. They’d gotten to know each other over long dinners and walks. They’d each unveiled the pain in their pasts and allowed the other to soothe those wounds.
And she'd finally broken down and admitted to Bennett that she couldn’t actually spin gold. That the true reason she was so religious about her contraception was a fear that she’d only lose her child to the imp.
To his credit, Bennett had taken the news in stride. He’d calmly asked if she had a copy of her agreement with the imp. When she produced the magical document, he disappeared with his team of advisors and returned, eyes shining with victory.
He’d found a loophole.
They had only to guess the wretched creature's name to be freed from this curse.
It had taken some doing--and a fair amount of spies in their employ--but they'd found the imp and catered to his sense of vanity. They, mere human mortals, could never hope to discern the name of a creature as sly as he. So what was the harm in letting them try?
Maybe it was their flattery. Perhaps it was his pride. But the result was the same: he gave them three days.
On the first, Renee guessed every name she had ever heard in her entire life, spilling one after another from her tongue like a frothing waterfall. Each time, the imp cackled with glee.
"That is not my name."
On the second, she cast a wider net, listing off every name Bennett's advisors could gather from the surrounding kingdoms. Some she could barely get her tongue around as the imp waited, arms crossed and impatiently tapping a foot.
When she uttered the last name, the imp beckoned her close.
She leaned in with anticipation.
"That is not my name," he whispered.
Increasingly desperate on the night before their last chance, Bennett doubled back when they left. He hid in the bushes around the imp's home.
They got lucky. The creature fed its spoiled ego, celebrating around a bonfire with a song he sang only for himself.
* * *
They may plan, and they may scheme,
But despite the lady's dreams,
The magic will be mine to tame.
For Rumpelstiltskin is my name.
* * *
On day three, Renee didn’t waste time with other names. If this didn’t work, nothing would.
She took a deep breath. Then, sending a prayer up to the gods, she whispered, “Rumpelstiltskin.”
The imp's eyes flew wide with rage, and he straightened.
"What did you say?" he asked dangerously.
He hadn't denied that it was his name yet. Hope sparked in her chest.
She took another breath. Emboldened, she spoke again, her voice firmer as she enunciated. "Is your name Rumpelstiltskin?"
Fire blazed at the imp’s feet as he walked toward her, hands outreached toward her neck.
Renee held her ground. Whatever magic the imp held, she felt sure that he was bound by the terms of his agreement. And sure enough, at the last moment before his fingers would have wrapped around her neck, instead they curled into a clenched fist. He simmered with barely restrained ire. “If you got that name, it was through bad form, dearie. Rest assured: I don't have to play fair either.”
The chants that left his lips curled around her like a caress.
Rumpelstiltskin is my name
Your first-born is yours to claim."
They’d done it. Tears of relief leapt to Renee’s eyes.
But Rumpelstiltskin’s lips curved.
He wasn’t finished.
* * *
One day, we'll play another game.
And you will have only yourself to blame.
1 year later
Renee sipped at the contraception potion as Bennett entered their bedchamber.
She avoided his gaze. She knew what she’d see: his eyes, downcast and saddened as he took in the sight of her empty vial.
She hurriedly swallowed the last of it before he could speak.
"You’re still taking that?" he asked. "I thought the only reason you didn't want to have children was because of the imp--because of Rumpelstiltskin, I mean." He gently took the vial from her hands and set it down with a soft clink on the bedside table, clasping her hands with his. "The bargain between you is null and void now, my love. He's gone."
Renee bit her lip. That had been her reason.
Of course, she wanted a child. She had dreamt of being a mother for her entire life. Not to mention, the people clambered for an heir and Bennett would be a wonderful father.
But how could she explain to her husband that she'd never feel at ease with a child she’d borne? She couldn’t keep one safe--and she didn’t want to live her life in fear. She’d already spent so much of it that way already.
Because Rumpelstiltskin was not gone forever… only for now. She knew that in her bones.
He'd as good as said he'd return someday, and he was an imp, Gods bless it. They weren't exactly known for their forgiving nature.
She swallowed hard.
That didn’t leave her with many options. Bennett deserved better.
Her personal reservations weren't fair to him. The Kingdom of Vale needed an heir. And if that meant Bennett required a new Queen...
So be it.
She opened her mouth--
And was interrupted by a knock at the door.
Find out what happens in Queen of Unicorns
6
Beauty and the Beast
“Wake up...just wake up...please...for me.” Her pleading tears splashed on the broke, dirty tile as she shook him, begging for any sign of life, his fur-covered torso still warm beneath her touch. “Stay with me.”
She curled her body in close to him and wrapped her quivering hand in his paw. His claws scratched her skin, but she ignored the hurt, for the pain burrowing within her chest cut deeper and sharper, shredding her heart. His weak hand attempted to squeeze hers, to hold on, but the exhaustion of death had already taken hold.
"You can't leave me now. I won't let you,"
she whispered in the dark. "I love you."
He groaned and twitched as she laced her fingers through his mane and held tight. She wrapped her cloak around his shivering body, as she rested her head against his chest. His heart slowed. Each beat shorter as the silence between grew longer. He couldn’t die. Not like this. They’d just found each other. They’d just…
She sucked a deep breath through gritted teeth, trying to push down her dark thoughts. Only hope could save him now, and she needed to give him all she had left.
Blinding light stretched throughout the tower as if the dawn fought the midnight to bring a new day. She bolted upright. No! Not now. They couldn’t take him.
The beast’s body rose, hovering and twisting in the air as his hand started to drift from hers. She gripped harder trying to pull herself along as the eerie light weaved around him. His gigantic hands, his broad furry shoulders, even the shorter hairs on his face wreathed in the luminescence filling the room. She gave one last tug, but he let go, allowing the light to take him to the angels.
She dropped to her knees, hands over her face as the tears came harder, unable to watch the light devour him. The two of them differed in so many ways, but she’d watched him change. He’d become better. He’d tried for her. And somehow, she’d grown to love him. More than she’d ever loved anyone in her entire life. This shouldn’t be how their story ended.
He groaned and growled as the light behind her tightly clasped fingers brightened. The pain in her chest spread through her limbs aching to join him in heaven.
Then quickly as the light came, it dissipated to leave her alone and sobbing in the empty tower.
"Don't cry, my beauty. Don't ever cry for me." His gruff voice seemed close. Too close. Likely, just one of the evil elves or sprites from the nearby forest mimicking him. Mocking her. Plunging the knife deeper.
A hand wrapped around hers and pulled it away. Skin on skin. Flesh to flesh. Through hazy tear-filled eyes, she glanced upon a stranger's face, a human face, handsome and smooth, but with the unmistakable kind and gentle eyes of her love. He traced his thumb along her cheek collecting the stray tears as he cast a delicate smile.
“You did it, you saved me. You broke the fairy’s curse.”
“But how?” She gasped, trying to slow her sobs as she twisted her fist in his shirt, pulling herself closer. He felt real. Skin and bone.
“Love. You loved me for who I was, not what I looked like, and it broke the fairy’s spell. I’m me again, at least the me I used to be, and it’s all because of you.”
He whisked her into his lap and folded her into his strong arms, the muscles flexing against her ribs, holding her too tight to breathe. His chin rested against the top of her head, and she inhaled. Burning wood and roses. Old books and bergamot. She pressed her palm against his chest, his heart pumping wildly beneath his ribs. It was him. It was really him.
"I love you," he whispered, stirring up loose strands of her hair. "I promise, I will never leave you."
She pushed herself free of his grip and leaned back to stare into his eyes, to see the truth. He loved her, she loved him, and she’d never let anyone else tear them apart. Instead of speaking all the promises she wanted to make, she pressed her lips against his, kissing her declarations. He tangled his fingers in her curls and kissed her back with the same voracity. Lips against lips. Heart against heart. Never to be separated again.
One by one he helped to replace the bricks and stone. The castle, his castle, finally resuming the glory he remembered as a child. The servants resumed their human forms, except now, with broad smiles upon their faces that they had long forgotten existed. The sparkle and shine of Aboria and its people, now finally restored by the beauty and her prince.
The prince twirled her around, the layers of green and gold satin sliding past his calves as she grabbed his hand and swayed to the music. He clutched her waist and pulled her to him, her laugh tinkling off the grand chandeliers of the ballroom and echoing through the once empty chambers of his heart. She glanced up through her ebony lashes, and he smiled, content to see the brilliance returning to her gaze. With every tile replaced in the mosaics and every broken window repaired and gleaming in the sun’s radiance, he saw the spark of hope rekindle in her eyes. He knew that her trust that he would be here for her, forever and always was now deep in her heart. But as much as trust built on his actions and his transformation in both form and soul had reassured her, one final assurance still remained.
He slipped his hand into his pocket and knelt with one knee upon the marble floor.
“I promised I'd never leave you, and I intend to follow through on that promise.”
His chest tightened as the rehearsed words struggled up his throat, the speech had been much easier in his own mirror. He opened his hand out to her, a golden band and a glittering diamond caught the candlelight. Her hand flew to her mouth holding back her loud gasp.
"Would you make me the luckiest man alive and marry me?"
She dropped to the floor in front of him, her hands gripping his and crushing the ring between their palms. The metal bit into his skin, but it could sting forever, as he vowed to hold on as long as she needed him.
"You didn't even need to ask." She smiled her sly, wickedly beautiful smile. The one he dreamed of every night as he lay awake, waiting for the right moment to ask the only question that mattered anymore.
"Well, it is customary." He glanced down at her white-knuckled hand around his. "So is that a yes?"
She placed her hand on the side of his face and a warm rush flushed through his body.
"Of course."
He stared into the endless dark eyes of the bravest woman he'd ever met, as a swell of pride at her incredible strength punched at his stomach. He’d met his true match, one that bested him in every way and for which he would thank the heavens for all eternity.
"I promise to be the man you deserve, not the beast you need to tame."
A shadow fell over her expression, just a fleeting doubt, but it soon lifted and disappeared into the night.
"I know, but—" she tapped her hand on his cheek "I do kind of miss a bit of stubble."
He growled low in his throat, and her laughter pealed again, heralding the promise happily ever afters. He pinched the ring between his thumb and forefinger, and she held out her hand as he slipped it on. A perfect fit. Just like the two of them.
“Ahem.” The butler appeared in the entranceway and crossed his left leg over his right in a sweeping bow, his extended arm nearly grazing the floor. “Pardon the intrusion, master.”
The prince tucked his beloved’s hand in his and stood. "What is it, Griswold?"
“You see, sir, there was a knock at the door…and well…” The butler scanned the room before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I think you should both come with me.”
Find out what happens in King of Beasts
7
Aladdin
The dirty scoundrel was quietly studying the princess’s every move as she posed as a commoner, hitting up the street markets. It might have worked if she weren’t so darn obvious. Her large black eyes were mesmerized by even the smallest of things, holding wonder and amazement. She was a dead giveaway, hardly blending in with those around her.
The vendors called out about their wares. “The best spices in all the land,” said one. “Tinctures that cure!” shouted another.
The princess moved about the streets of Kibsu, the capital of the Kingdom of Badalah, her father’s kingdom, whiffing the savory scents and carefully running her delicate hand through different textures of dry legumes until she stumbled upon the fabrics. Her eyes widened as her soft lips formed a heart-shaped smile, fully engrossed with the vibrant colors of the textiles.
He moved about, nonchalantly, all the while getting closer to her.
Unbeknownst to him, the evil sorcerer had his watchful eye set on them both, by using magic and his trusted raven. The warm-blooded fowl perched on a street lamp, gave the sorcerer
a full view of the events as it moved its heinous eyes about.
Princess Jawahir lost herself in a gold and teal fabric; caressing it as if it were of the finest silk from China, causing the boy watching to wonder if she even knew the difference between what was good or not?
He shook his head, remembering he had a task.
The orphanage was short on supplies again, and as much as he wanted to focus on staying out of trouble, he couldn’t resist helping his former home.
Aladdin scrambled off toward the wagon keep, knowing which vendors kept extra stock locked up in them.
Surely the keep would be guarded, and yet, that had never stopped him before.
He was carefully moving in the shadows around the guards when the scent of sweet Jawahir penetrated his nostrils. He turned on his heels just in time to avoid the princess running into him.
Quickly, he covered her mouth before she shouted, pressing a finger to his lips.
She fought him off, scowling deeply as she acknowledged the need for quiet.
Queen Jawahir playfully punched King Aladdin on the arm, “you make me sound like a desperate damsel in distress,” she said, taking his hand as together, they descended the steps to the garden, reminiscing on former times.
Every day, after the children of the kingdom, were dispatched to school, mothers and fathers, grandparents and caregivers, lined up outside the palace gates, to receive fresh produce from the palace’s personal harvest.
It had been Aladdin's idea when he was still the Queen’s betrothed. The sultan had liked the idea of feeding the people of his kingdom and had implemented the practice for a trial run before his death. Since then, Queen Jawahir and King Aladdin had kept it going, enjoying the ritual as much as the people. It had started as a way to reduce poverty and make sure the people of Badalah were fed, but it had ended up almost as a daily party.
Kingdom of Fairytales: After ever after - a Kingdom of Fairytales Prequel Page 4