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What's in a name?	By : jinna1979 Category: Fairy Tales, Fables, Folklore, Legends, and Myth > Fairy Tales Views: 16599 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction,I do not own Rumpelstiltskin. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons,living or dead, is purely coincidental

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
A/N: Yay!! Another review!! That totally inspired me to write (since I was getting kinda lazy before)

Rumpelstiltskin awoke from a surprisingly comfortable sleep on the floor of the root cellar. He was just getting accustomed to sleeping in awkward cramped spaces, so it was almost a luxury to have enough space to sleep with his body spread out. He stretched languorously, and his first thoughts were of Millicent as he wondered how she was faring, and whether or not she had enjoyed the food he left for her. Pulling his cloak around him, he headed upstairs, only remembering to use his hood when a passing maid grimaced in disgust at his face.

He managed to steal a fresh pear tart from the kitchen, eating it with pleasure as he headed for Millicent's room. A part of him worried that he would not find her there - after all, it was morning, and there was a chance she was exploring the castle as he had done. Folks from the country were often early risers, waking at dawn to work on their daily chores. Millicent was certainly no exception. Unable to help himself, there was already a grin on his face as he reached her door. Making himself invisible, he slipped into her room, which was completely dark since the candle was not lit. Immediately, he sensed that something was awry. Rumpelstiltskin's vision was just as sharp in the dark as it was in the light, and luckily his curse of ugliness had not taken away that particular faerie ability. Millicent had taken off her emerald gown, and it laid, carefully folded, atop the chest. Though the prospect of seeing her free of her clothes would have normally filled him with lust, he was instead filled with horror as he gazed upon her pale form. Her blanket did little to cover her, and was a wrinkled mess around her torso, but he barely registered the blanket. Instead, his eyes were fixated upon the mottled bruises that covered the length of her upper arms, as well as her shoulders and chest.

An intense feeling of fury came over Rumpelstiltskin, and he wanted commit murder, smash a hole in the wall, or at least cry out his rage. More so than ever, he was tempted to reach out to Millicent, to wake her and ask who had done this to her. Yet in spite of his tumultuous emotions, he resisted the urge, knowing that his gruesome facade would only frighten her more. He could hear her, whimpering in her sleep, her breathing uneven and pained. His helplessness frustrated him more than anything else, but then it occurred to him that there was a chance that he could reach out to her, using her dreams.

Many magical beings had the ability to enter mortal dreams, but it was a skill that was rarely used, for it carried great risks. The subconscious mind of mortals was often erratic, shifting from one thought to the next with no real sense of logic except to the mind of the mortal. It was a place where a magical being could easily become trapped with no escape, and faeries rarely ventured there without reason. However, Rumpelstiltskin felt it was worth the risk, wanting more than anything to avenge his battered love.

Entering her dream would take all his magical resources, so his invisibility fell away, though the room was dark enough that he would remain unseen regardless. He sat by the mattress on the hard floor, closing his eyes, and sending out his consciousness into her dreams.

The first thing he noticed upon entering her dreams was that he was able to control the form he took. Though his first impulse was to use his original body, he decided to use an easier form that would draw less attention, settling on turning himself into a bee. Faeries delighted in insects after all, and often conversed and played with butterflies, dragonflies, ladybugs and bees. He noticed that he was in a forest that looked a great deal like the one by the mill where Millicent had lived. His breath hitched when he laid eyes upon Millicent, wandering through the trees with a basket in hand. She was wearing the emerald dress, though it was not what she normally would have worn in the woods. She seemed to be watching a shadowy form receding further and further into the distance.

Rumpelstiltskin buzzed close to her, not wanting to be too distracted by the shifting world of the unconscious, and the scene suddenly changed so that Millicent was in her bedroom, kissing a shadowy man that looked like him, crying out in pleasure as her body tangled with his. The vision made him long for her and he almost let himself be pulled in to the illusion when it shifted again. Millicent's cries turned into screams as a red faced man bore down upon her, holding a giant rolling pin that looked more like a tree trunk. He laughed maliciously, and Millicent was trying to pull away, her body shrinking and shrinking as the red faced man expanded into gigantic proportions. Rumpelstiltskin sensed a change in the atmosphere and knew that she would soon awaken. As quickly as he could, he drew back his consciousness, knowing that if he did not do so, he would potentially become trapped forever. The image of the red faced man was imprinted in his mind, and he knew he had gathered all the information he needed. An expression of grim determination was set upon his face as he left her room, intent upon vengeance.

Moving invisibly, with unnatural speed, Rumpelstiltskin dashed through the corridors of the castle, examining every face that passed him by. He was completely at ease now with his new body, and moved efficiently, without disturbing a single soul despite his rapid pace. The face in Millicent's dream had seemed vaguely familiar, and he knew he had seen it before. It suddenly occurred to him that when he had stole the pear tart earlier, the man who had been making them looked exactly like the irate man in Millicent's dream. His destination set, Rumpelstiltskin ran to the kitchen, his chest heaving in exertion once he arrived.

Though he remained invisible, Rumpelstiltskin stood before the ruddy baker, his eyes flickering with burning rage. It was a faerie ability to compel animals, though the fey rarely used the ability since there was never an actual need to do so. Rumpelstiltskin had the need now, and summoning all the force of his emotions into his ability, he called upon all the vermin in the castle to descend upon the hapless baker. Unable to resist the call, rats came out of their burrows, beetles out from the shadows, and flies lifted from the walls, all of them fixated upon their target. All the kitchen staff seemed to sense something was awry, and at the sight of so many filthy creatures at once, they started screaming and panicking. Servants, staff and guards started running in all directions, abandoning their tasks as they attempted to flee. The vermin paid no heed to anyone else but the baker, and they were soon upon him, their tiny little incisors digging into his ample flesh. The baker screamed in agony, and as he opened his mouth, flies flew in, coating his throat and choking him. They were in his eyes, ears, and every open orifice on his body. The rats were vicious, tearing at his feet and legs, climbing upwards with their sharp little claws. The presence of the rats also drew the castle cats, who leapt upon the anguished man, their claws slashing his skin, leaving trails of dripping blood. Eventually, the sheer number of creatures upon and within the baker prevented him from breathing, and he died a slow, miserable death. Rumpelstiltskin watched every moment with cold satisfaction in his eyes, before releasing his hold on the creatures, who scattered in all directions.

Unconcerned with the chaotic mess he left in the kitchen, Rumpelstiltskin hurried back up to Millicent. When he slipped into her cubby hole of a room, the candle was lit, but Millicent remained undressed, her knees curled up into her chest, as she stared into empty space. His gut knotted up to see the glaring bruises across her skin, but there was little he could do to ease her pain. After all, as immortal creatures, faeries had no need for healing powers. Millicent sat in silence, and Rumpelstiltskin kept watch over her, but the silence was eventually broken by the gurgling of Millicent's stomach. Millicent did not stir - she was already in enough pain, and an empty stomach was just another thing to add to the list. Rumpelstiltskin, however, could not sit by and let her wallow in discomfort. Once again, he left the room and headed for the kitchen, this time hoping that there was a scrap of edible food left over that he could give to Millicent.

Millicent sat upon her mattress, curled into a ball and tried to ignore her pain. When she woke, she had attempted to put on her dress, but her body was stiff and pulsing with discomfort. It seemed like too much effort to stretch out her arms and shoulders into the awkward angles needed to don her gown. She felt filthy, smelled slightly musty, and her hair was likely a tangled rat's nest. She felt her stomach growling, but ignored it, not wanting to venture out of her room. Though she was normally a bold, optimistic and cheerful person, the experience of being beaten by a stranger for a crime she did not commit had temporarily crushed her spirit. The environment she was in was simply too unfamiliar and hostile. Her little room was the only place where she felt that she could hide, away from the judging eyes of calloused strangers.

A knock on her door startled Millicent from her self pity. Worried that whoever was at the door would open it without permission, she ignored her screaming muscles and wriggled into her dress. The knock was not repeated, and hesitantly, Millicent went up to the wooden door and opened it. At the foot of the door was another tray of food, with half a crust of bread, a thick slice of ham, a pear tart, as well as a cup of mead. Millicent poked her head into the hallway, wondering who it was that brought her the food, but none of the servants paid her any heed, nor took credit for the tray of food. Unable to ignore the demands of her stomach, Millicent brought the tray of food into her room, and closed the door. Though eating was slightly painful, it was a relief to have one of her needs taken care of. She ate the bread and meat first, and looked at the tart with a certain degree of hesitation, but the glistening, cinnamon covered confection called out to her, and she consumed it with gratification. Millicent felt marginally better after eating, setting the empty tray atop the previous tray. She still felt no inclination to leave her room though. As much as she would have loved to have a bath, she would have felt happy enough with nothing more than a wet rag. Unfortunately, she would have to be content with having nothing.

Millicent felt too awake to try and sleep, and the little room was too small to pace in. Restless and bored, she started counting the stones on the walls, examining the grey slabs with idle interest. With a touch of imagination, she could somewhat see patterns forming on the stones, much as children saw shapes in the clouds. It seemed to be the best she could do. As her eyes trailed over the stones, she was conscious that the pattering noise of footsteps outside her room was increasing, as well as the muffled sound of voices. Awareness that there was likely a crowd of people outside her door caused Millicent's stomach to twist into tight knots, and she suddenly regretted eating the pear tart. The fact that she seemed to be getting in trouble for doing nothing made her more paranoid than she would otherwise be. Sadly for Millicent, her paranoia was validated by the pounding upon her door, followed by muffled yells that sounded like: "Come out, Witch!"

Within the tiny confines of her room, there was no where to go, but instinctively, Millicent still backed herself into the corner. Her heart raced, and she could hear blood pounding in her ears. The knock sounded again, louder and more demanding, and the yells increased in volume. Millicent's breathing was shallow and frenzied, and to her utter shame, she felt a hot wetness between her legs as she lost control of her bladder. She squeezed her eyes shut, as tears poured out, and suddenly her door was kicked open with a thunderous bang. The room was small enough that only a guard and servant could enter at the same time, and they grabbed her by her bruised arms, and dragged her out to the waiting mob.

"That's the one!" a shrill voice in the crowd called out, "That's the one that was fightin' wit' the baker!" There was a murmur of assent throughout the crowd. After all, she was a stranger amongst them, and many had seen the incident between her at the baker the previous day. Millicent moaned in pain at the vice-like way in which the guard and servant held her arms. She had no strength to struggle against them, and though she tried to stand up and walk, the men jerked her along awkwardly so that she stumbled and had to be dragged. She could not see through the crowd, and did not know where they were taking her, but she was aware of descending stairs, as well as the increasing chill in the air.

Suddenly the crowd seemed to part, and she was thrown by the guard and the servant into a dank and dirty prison cell. Millicent cried out in anguish as her bruised body hit the wet stone floor, but no one seemed to care. Satisfied with their work, the crowd began to disperse, but not before a few of the more spiteful members spat at her prone body. When the last of the mob left, Millicent began to sob hot and wracking tears that shook her whole body. Not only had she been abandoned by her parents, and her lover, but it seemed as though the gods themselves had turned their back on her.

A/N: Looks like chapter 13 is an unlucky one for Millicent... well, actually the last few chapters have been unlucky for Millicent and in all likelihood the next few will be as well... hope this isn't getting too dark readers. I feel really bad for Millicent, but then, this stuff just pops into my head and I feel compelled to write it. I keep having to add new tags. I definitely wasn't thinking that it would get so violent, so fast... my other story didn't even get violent till the very end
- 10
- 11
- 12
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What's in a name?