Random snippet - Rumpelstiltskin retelling
"What do you want?"
Maria didn't even need to look up to know who was hovering behind her. The doors were locked, the windows were barred. There was only one person it could be.
She felt him shift, and she barely suppressed a wince. It was physically painful to have him so close, to breathe the same air. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to see his disfigured form, his knowing smirk. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor and tried to steady her heartbeat.
"Don't you want me here?" he asked, his tone mocking. "Don't you need me? You can't possibly hope to survive the night without my help."
He was right, of course. He excelled at that--knowing when he was needed. He had an extra sense that knew when someone was desperate, when they required his help. It drove Maria mad.
Mostly because she hated needing anybody.
She gathered her composure, pretending it was a cloak she could draw about her shoulders to shield her. When she felt strong and sure of herself again, she turned to look face him.
"Yes. You know I need you." She said it calmly, and she wondered if he'd understand what she was really saying. She let the words hang for a moment before she continued. "I need your help so I can survive tonight."
He hummed softly to himself, giving the room a considering look. "It's a lot of straw," he said absently. Maria nodded automatically. Regardless of how she felt, he was absolutely correct. There was a lot of straw. More than she'd thought possible. She'd never imagined the king would be quite so greedy.
Finally he turned back to her, and his lips turned up.
"What can you offer me? Two nights ago you gave me a necklace that was mostly tin and river pebbles. Last night you gave me your mother's ring." He shrugged. "It was pretty enough, but there was barely enough gold to buy a month of meals."
He leaned forward and his shrewd eyes caught every breath Maria took, every twitch of her face. She couldn't hide how she felt, how it cut that he demeaned her most precious possessions.
"What could you possibly offer me that would convince me to spin this room full of straw into gold?" His eyes flickered, looking for any bit of emotion.
She shut her eyes, then. She didn't want him to see how painful it was, bartering for her life. She understood nothing was ever free, and that luck could be a fickle lady. A miller's daughter, she probably knew better than anyone. A bad crop, an infestation of mill bugs, a broken wheel. Any of these things could leave a family destitute.
And a carelessly spoken whim could break a heart.
With her eyes closed, it was easier to remember him as he was a fortnight, a month, a year ago. She liked him better as a cantankerous neighbor who could magic her mill into working. She much preferred his blemished face in the light of the sun or by evening's firelight. The harsh candlelight that bounced off cold stones did nothing to soften his lips or eyes.
"What do you want, Rumpelstiltskin?" She tried to sound challenging, but her words came out resigned and pained. "You always know the correct price. You have never had a problem asking for exactly what you want." It broke her heart he was negotiating so callously.
Maria opened her eyes so she could see his face when he made his request. She was a little surprised at the longing she saw there, and she wondered if it mirrored her own. She had the overwhelming urge to apologize then, to beg his forgiveness for starting the whole silly mess.
I'm sorry I met him. I'm sorry I thought he was handsome. I'm sorry I thought it would be lovely to be a queen.
He's terrible.
And ugly.
And I much preferred being a poor miller's daughter with a magician for a neighbor.
"Your firstborn child," he said, before she could admit anything.
Maria blinked and turned the words over in her head. "My firstborn child?" Even spoken aloud, the request made no sense to her. "Why would you want my firstborn child?"
"Doesn't ever magician need a child to raise to the craft?" he asked, with a flippant twist of his hand. It was that small movement that gave him away. He never did anything that wasn't carefully planned, never gestured without calculating the effect.
Rumpelstiltskin didn't do flippant twists. He didn't avert his eyes.
Maria moved forward half a step and tried to understand. She was clever, but even she couldn't always follow his thoughts. "If I promise you my firstborn child, you'll help me to spin straw into gold?" she asked.
There was something in his smile. It was a little mocking, but there was also hope. "Yes, that's exactly what I'll do."
"And if I spin straw into gold, I'll survive this night?" She was starting to catch up, and her heart rested in her throat.
"Isn't that what you've asked for?" He looked nervous, then. Waiting.
"To clarify, then," she said, and the shiver she was suppressing now was completely different, "I will live the night, and I will promise my first child to you." She paused. "The king will play no role in the outcome."
"I suppose you could marry him and bear his child." His shrug was stilted. "I would have to take the child when it is born, and what would I do with a child who was not mine? It is an alternative, though."
Maria stepped forward until they were almost touching. "I would far rather marry you and have my child be yours from the beginning, if you don't mind," she murmured, leaning forward to press her lips against his. She felt his breath shudder into her own lungs.
"It's a deal," he whispered, finally kissing her.
Maria didn't even need to look up to know who was hovering behind her. The doors were locked, the windows were barred. There was only one person it could be.
She felt him shift, and she barely suppressed a wince. It was physically painful to have him so close, to breathe the same air. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to see his disfigured form, his knowing smirk. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor and tried to steady her heartbeat.
"Don't you want me here?" he asked, his tone mocking. "Don't you need me? You can't possibly hope to survive the night without my help."
He was right, of course. He excelled at that--knowing when he was needed. He had an extra sense that knew when someone was desperate, when they required his help. It drove Maria mad.
Mostly because she hated needing anybody.
She gathered her composure, pretending it was a cloak she could draw about her shoulders to shield her. When she felt strong and sure of herself again, she turned to look face him.
"Yes. You know I need you." She said it calmly, and she wondered if he'd understand what she was really saying. She let the words hang for a moment before she continued. "I need your help so I can survive tonight."
He hummed softly to himself, giving the room a considering look. "It's a lot of straw," he said absently. Maria nodded automatically. Regardless of how she felt, he was absolutely correct. There was a lot of straw. More than she'd thought possible. She'd never imagined the king would be quite so greedy.
Finally he turned back to her, and his lips turned up.
"What can you offer me? Two nights ago you gave me a necklace that was mostly tin and river pebbles. Last night you gave me your mother's ring." He shrugged. "It was pretty enough, but there was barely enough gold to buy a month of meals."
He leaned forward and his shrewd eyes caught every breath Maria took, every twitch of her face. She couldn't hide how she felt, how it cut that he demeaned her most precious possessions.
"What could you possibly offer me that would convince me to spin this room full of straw into gold?" His eyes flickered, looking for any bit of emotion.
She shut her eyes, then. She didn't want him to see how painful it was, bartering for her life. She understood nothing was ever free, and that luck could be a fickle lady. A miller's daughter, she probably knew better than anyone. A bad crop, an infestation of mill bugs, a broken wheel. Any of these things could leave a family destitute.
And a carelessly spoken whim could break a heart.
With her eyes closed, it was easier to remember him as he was a fortnight, a month, a year ago. She liked him better as a cantankerous neighbor who could magic her mill into working. She much preferred his blemished face in the light of the sun or by evening's firelight. The harsh candlelight that bounced off cold stones did nothing to soften his lips or eyes.
"What do you want, Rumpelstiltskin?" She tried to sound challenging, but her words came out resigned and pained. "You always know the correct price. You have never had a problem asking for exactly what you want." It broke her heart he was negotiating so callously.
Maria opened her eyes so she could see his face when he made his request. She was a little surprised at the longing she saw there, and she wondered if it mirrored her own. She had the overwhelming urge to apologize then, to beg his forgiveness for starting the whole silly mess.
I'm sorry I met him. I'm sorry I thought he was handsome. I'm sorry I thought it would be lovely to be a queen.
He's terrible.
And ugly.
And I much preferred being a poor miller's daughter with a magician for a neighbor.
"Your firstborn child," he said, before she could admit anything.
Maria blinked and turned the words over in her head. "My firstborn child?" Even spoken aloud, the request made no sense to her. "Why would you want my firstborn child?"
"Doesn't ever magician need a child to raise to the craft?" he asked, with a flippant twist of his hand. It was that small movement that gave him away. He never did anything that wasn't carefully planned, never gestured without calculating the effect.
Rumpelstiltskin didn't do flippant twists. He didn't avert his eyes.
Maria moved forward half a step and tried to understand. She was clever, but even she couldn't always follow his thoughts. "If I promise you my firstborn child, you'll help me to spin straw into gold?" she asked.
There was something in his smile. It was a little mocking, but there was also hope. "Yes, that's exactly what I'll do."
"And if I spin straw into gold, I'll survive this night?" She was starting to catch up, and her heart rested in her throat.
"Isn't that what you've asked for?" He looked nervous, then. Waiting.
"To clarify, then," she said, and the shiver she was suppressing now was completely different, "I will live the night, and I will promise my first child to you." She paused. "The king will play no role in the outcome."
"I suppose you could marry him and bear his child." His shrug was stilted. "I would have to take the child when it is born, and what would I do with a child who was not mine? It is an alternative, though."
Maria stepped forward until they were almost touching. "I would far rather marry you and have my child be yours from the beginning, if you don't mind," she murmured, leaning forward to press her lips against his. She felt his breath shudder into her own lungs.
"It's a deal," he whispered, finally kissing her.