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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
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A/N: This scene was fun to write. I just wanted to say thanks for the comments. Without them, I'm not sure I ever would have made the effort to try and finish this story. Still working on it, but I've got most of it plotted out now :)

Rumplestiltskin kissed Millicent’s forehead gently, and then left her chambers. He did not expend the effort to make himself invisible - that would be for later, once he was near the King’s treasury. From his dream wanderings, he was able to recall which floor the treasury was, and with a bit of effortful and dizzy wandering, he found himself close. Fortunately, it was the dead of night, so he did not encounter any servants on his path. As for the guards wandering the halls, they were easy enough to avoid - despite his grogginess, he could still move silently.

Rumplestiltskin found himself wondering if he truly had the energy to become invisible. The notion of failing made his palms sweat, and he could feel his stomach twisting. Combined with his befuddled sense of intoxication, it was an uncomfortable feeling. Never before had he forced himself to use up so much magic at once. He imagined that he must be close to his limit, and dispassionately wondered what would happen once he reached that point. Would it kill him? The fey were immortal but not invincible.

As Rumplestiltskin peered around the corner that led towards the treasury doors, he noted that the treasury was guarded, which he expected. However, due to the sheer volume of the golden straw, several rooms in the hallway were filled to the brim, and each of these rooms had their own pair of guards. Rather than having to thwart a pair of guards, he now had to deal with what looked like eight or ten of them. His sharp fey eyes noted that one of the guards looked particularly self-important, and sure enough, that guard had a ring of keys around his belt. Stealing the keys would be no problem - despite his intoxicated state of mind, stealing was as natural to the fey as breathing. It was said that they fey could steal the nose off someone’s face, if they so desired.

It was too difficult to try and think of a complicated plan - alas, quick and simple would have to do. He decided he needed to create a distraction to draw the guards off before sneaking into the main treasury. Perhaps throwing a pebble off in the opposite direction to draw off the guards? However, the King kept his palace meticulously clean, and there was hardly even a speck of dust in sight. An illusion would have to do. It would tax his energy, however, it would be quick. If he had had the energy, it would have given him pleasure to create an elaborate illusion to fool the guards. After all, tricking people was one of the things that the fey enjoyed doing the most. However, at the moment, all that mattered was that the illusion would be effective.

Fortunately, it was still night, and an auditory illusion would be sufficient. Moreover, he could easily play off the guard’s emotions to enhance the illusion. First, he needed to make himself invisible. This would be the most difficult part. He would have to take advantage of the shadows and darkness in order to save some energy. The flickering light of the torches that lit the hallway seemed only to enhance the shadows. With an immense push of effort, he made himself as invisible as he could. In broad daylight, his presence would still be perceptible as a twinkling distortion in the air, rather like fairy dust, but in the darkness, he remained hidden.

In the hallway behind him, he created a series of whispery sounds, punctuated with what sounded like the word “gold.” Making use of the tension of the guards, he was able to use a relatively unsophisticated sound illusion, and he allowed the guards to fill in the blanks with their imaginations. Considering the King’s draconian nature, and the unusual task of actually having to guard something of great worth, the guards were already in a hypervigilant mindset. Though they did not want trouble, they were also taut with tension, and ready to spring.

Upon hearing the whispery sounds, the guards all seemed to bolt upright, though they were already standing straight to begin with. They glanced at each other uncertainly, as though silently asking for confirmation of what to do. Their minds were in a panic - after all, who would be foolhardy enough to rob the King? However, when one of the guards finally lept into action, the rest quickly followed. As Rumplestiltskin hoped, it was the man with the keys who led the way. Rumplestiltskin felt a flicker of doubt as to whether or not he would be able to steal the keys, but fortunately, his fey instincts kicked in, and he triumphantly held the ring of keys in his near-invisible hands. The group of guards had all dashed off along the hallway behind him, and despite his faintness, he smiled to himself at the sight of all the guards running off, and leaving no one behind to guard the doors. Their recklessness was certainly his benefit.

As quickly as he was able, Rumplestiltskin stumbled forward, and unlocked the treasury doors with unsteady hands. There was enough torchlight in this hallway that bystanders would notice a distinct sparkle in the air. He had no desire to arouse any suspicion. The gold coins were placed alongside the wall, and next to all the shimmering gold straw, they blended in and would have been invisible to normal eyes. Fortunately for Rumplestiltskin, the illusory gold appeared to have an odd falseness to it, as though it were reflecting the light in an unnatural way. He grabbed the coins and slid them up his sleeve. The fey had no need for real pockets - they could slip items into secret locations between the human and faerie world. As the gold coins slipped up Rumplestiltskin's sleeve, they vanished from the human world, and were hidden in a hollow under a beautiful, tree with silvery bark, spiraling branches, and leaves that tinkled melodically in the wind.

His task complete, Rumplestiltskin breathed a deep sigh, though not entirely of relief. He still needed to find his way out, and back to the cellar where he could finally close his weary eyes. It was far too tempting to simply collapse on the spot, but if he were to do that, then all his efforts would have been for naught. Through the doors of the treasury, he could hear the heavy footsteps of the guards, and their hesitant calls to one another as they searched for the supposed thieves whispering in the halls. Unfortunately for Rumplestiltskin, several of them had come to their sense and realized that they could not all go charging through the palace, looking for thieves - someone still had to guard the gold. Rumplestiltskin had hoped to be out of the treasury before any of the guards noticed the door had been opened. Whether they saw him or not, the sight of the treasury unlocked would be enough to send cries of alarm throughout the palace.

Rumplestiltskin careened awkwardly towards the treasury doors, just as a few of the guards turned the corner. As he pulled the doors wider so that his cumbersome body could fit through, he heard one of the guards yell out.

   “Thief!” The guard cried out. “He’s here! The thief!” The rest of the guards cried out in response to the call, but they were scattered through the hallways, and sound travelled strangely, causing echos and confusion. Had Rumplestiltskin been able to maintain his partial invisibility, he likely would have been able to escape with ease, but the sight of a guard charging at the doors was enough to unsettle his weakened mind and body. He flickered back into visibility, and under the torchlight, the guards gasped in shock at his ugliness.

  “A monster!” One of the guards cried out, but despite his proclamation, he still courageously charged forward, slashing his sword. Instinctively, Rumplestiltskin held up his arms in defense, and the blade slashed his flesh deeply, cutting nearly down to his bones.   Hot blood gushed down his arms, thick and purplish, as fey blood generally was. It dripped down to the floor, leaving a blackish puddle beneath Rumplestiltskin’s feet.

The rest of the guards were quickly finding their way back to the treasury, and before long, Rumpelstiltskin would be surrounded. He had no time to think - everything now was a matter of instinct. However, the word ‘monster’ had given him an idea, and before he had time to wonder whether it would work, he was already acting.

Using the inflamed emotions of the guards, and a small bit of illusion magic, he amplified his ugliness to extreme proportions. Under the flickering torchlight, his body seemed to grow larger, and more deformed, and his face took on a horrifying aspect that would give the bravest souls nightmares. Lumps of flesh appeared to grow out of nowhere, and strange ragged shadows appeared where there should be none. His eyes seemed to bulge, taking on a frightening reddish hue, and strange, multi-jointed limbs seemed to sprout from his body. Much of the effect was the result of the flickering torches and shadows, but to the guards, the monstrous figure seemed all too solid. The guards backed away from Rumplestiltskin, some of them whimpering in fear. Several of them dropped their swords, and ran away shrieking in animal panic, while one of them collapsed in a heap on the floor as he fainted. The smell of urine filled the air, as several of the guards wet themselves. Two brave guards remained, rooted on the spot, but when Rumplestiltskin finally shambled forward, it was more than they could bear, and they too turned away and ran, shouting out cries for more guards to come to their aid.

Relieved that his ploy had succeeded, Rumplestiltskin breathed deeply, realizing that he had been holding his breath the entire time. He quickly made his way down to the root cellar, and when he finally arrived, he stumbled in an awkward fall, and was asleep before he could even make himself comfortable.

The following morning, Millicent awoke earlier than usual. She had been assailed by bad dreams, and although she could not remember them in the light of day, she felt unsettled, as though expecting bad things to happen. She could not tell how early or late in the morning it was - after all, golden straw blocked out the windows and there was no light. However, she was unable to fall back asleep. She sat up on her cot, staring into the darkness. Though all traces of the dreams now faded from her mind, uneasiness remained. Her thoughts turned to the magical dwarf - no, she did not think of him as a dwarf - the man, and the conversation she had had with him the night before. It was so odd, to consider that she was now engaged. She could not brush it away as a dream - the ring around her finger felt too solid and real - yet that did not change the fact that the situation felt utterly dream-like.

Was this a betrayal, she wondered. Was she giving up on her lover too soon? Yet, those thoughts did not have the sharpness that they once did. She had made a decision, and the man she had chosen was good and kind. What more could she want?

Millicent’s thoughts were interrupted when the door burst open and the king sauntered in, followed by his entourage of sycophants.

  “Well, my future queen,” he announced, “yet again, you have succeeded. We shall be wed a sennight from now.” Millicent paled in horror, and the only thing that kept her quiet was the knowledge that the magical man would help her escape. She bowed her head downwards, unsure of what to say.

  “Ah, silent and modest. The way a queen should be,” the King continued. “You are a most satisfactory prize. To reward your efforts, we shall have some excellent public entertainment at our wedding. Some despicable trash was foolish enough to break into my treasury last night, and the useless guards failed to detain him. Yet, I am a generous man - I have an abundance of wealth at my fingertips now, so the guards shall be given a quick death. Their public execution shall entertain the city! Well?”

  Millicent paled. Did he actually expect a response to the horror that was pouring from his lips? He seemed to be looking at her expectantly, and Millicent’s fear became so intense that she worried that she would vomit on the spot.

  “Th...thank you?” She squeaked quietly, hoping it was what he wanted to hear.

  “Ah yes, you should be grateful. I am doing you a great honour by going out of my way to prepare such a spectacle.” Without another word, the King turned and left, but he wore an extremely self-satisfied expression on his face, and remained in a relatively good mood for the rest of the day. Servants who failed to meet his standard were grateful to only be yelled at, instead of lashed or beaten. Moreover, as frightening as the king was, the prospect of a wedding created a feeling of excitement among the citizens. A wedding was symbolic for change, and change from the tyrannical rule of the king was eagerly welcomed. None of the servants or citizens particularly liked to consider that Millicent was unlikely to influence a character as strong as the king’s. They needed hope to cling on to, and a wedding represented that hope. As a result, the palace servants carried on their duties with a fresh vigour. It did not seem to occur to them that their early cruel treatment of Millicent would mean that she had no sympathy for them. They simply assumed that as a woman, she would be ecstatic about her upcoming nuptials.

As for Millicent, although she longed for a moment of peace and quiet, she soon found herself once again surrounded by a retinue of servants. They had less than a week to prepare a wedding dress for her, and there was no time to waste. None of them asked her opinion of what she wanted, or whether or not the situation suited her. They had been given strict instructions from the king to ensure that she looked fit to be a queen, and pleasing the king mattered significantly more than pleasing some country bumpkin, even if that country bumpkin could spin straw into gold. Thus, by the time Carine made her way to Millicent, she found that there was no way that the two of them could communicate privately.

Both Millicent and Carine were disappointed by the situation, but it was necessary for Carine to maintain appearances, so she stayed by Millicent’s side, and spoke to her of trivial things, such as the weather, and the colour of the fabric that had been selected for the wedding dress. If not for the horrible occasion, Millicent would have admired the beauty of the fabric, even though she did not usually express any interest in clothing. Though she was not the sort of woman who dreamed of weddings and marriages, when she was younger, she always envisioned herself getting married in pale green. The fabric before her was a cream coloured silk, that shimmered with golden threads. A veritable army of seamstresses had been hired to embroider the fabric with gold and pink flowers with tiny green leaves, and stitch pearls and emeralds throughout the bodice. The king had personally chosen the colour because he wanted the pale cream to complement his black and silver garments. The final creation would surely be a work of art, but Millicent could not appreciate the effort. To her, it felt as though they were creating a funerary garment, rather than a wedding gown.

By the end of the day, Millicent was utterly exhausted. She had spent most of the arduous day standing, and being poked by needles, and she did not have a spare moment to herself. When she dropped off to sleep, she was plagued by nightmares of being chased, but when she tried to run, it was as though her body was trying to drag itself through mud.

The following day, Millicent was awakened early and forced to endure lessons in etiquette and proper court protocol. She spent hours being drilled on the various titles of the nobles, and whether to acknowledge them with a graceful nod or a curtsey. As future queen, there were very few people she needed to curtsey to, but there could be neighbouring kings attending and it would be seen as a failure if Millicent disgraced herself. Following that, she was required to learn proper dining room manners. In the country, utensils were rare and generally exclusively used by the rich. She was accustomed to eating a crust of bread dipped into stew, and cuts of meat were usually eaten with only a knife. As queen, she would be expected to eat her food with a special, two-pronged fork, and moreover, she needed to eat in a dainty and graceful manner. It was perceived as manly, or unsophisticated for a lady to eat food with her hands, except in the case of fruit. Finishing her entire plate would be frowned upon - it was a sign of wealth to be wasteful with food.

After the long day of lessons, the seamstresses once again demanded Millicent’s attention, requiring more measurements to ensure that detailed components of her gown would be made accurately. Thus, Millicent and Carine once again did not have a chance to speak privately. Millicent could tell that Carine had meaningful information to share, from the glances that Carine kept shooting her way. Unfortunately, the situation was beyond their control. As a result, Millicent felt particularly impatient about the trials she had to endure, for not only was the royal wedding desperately unwanted, but the possible solution seemed to be just slightly beyond her grasp. Millicent was also troubled by the lack of contact from the man who was now her fiancee. She knew to expect that he needed rest after turning straw into gold, and yet, she wanted the reassurance of knowing that he would come and save her from her fate. A part of her worried that he would change his mind and betray her, yet a greater part of her trusted him, and had the faith to believe that he would come for her.
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What's in a name?