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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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Rousset stood by the low window of one of the castle’s guard towers, where he could examine every face that entered the palace. While he could have been in the throne room, examining hundreds and hundreds of ribbons from women all across the kingdom, he decided to leave that job to his advisors. He only cared about one ribbon: Carine’s. That was why he felt no interest in dealing with the longing looks of the maidens who had come from far and wide. Let his advisors be the one to disappoint them. It wasn’t as though any of those women knew him anyway. They were here because they were ambitious and hopeful, and wanted to be Queen.

Rousset had had a desk brought to him. It enabled him to still work, while observing the crowds. As king, there was always things that had to be done, and he did not shirk his duty, just so that he could stare obsessively out the window for one face.

Still, Rousset found himself in a state of excitement. Did she hear the proclamation? Would she respond? Hopefully she had not left the country. He furrowed his brow as he considered the thought. Or what if she wasn’t even interested in him at all? Could it be that his feelings were entirely one-sided? The idea left Rousset feeling twisted with anxiety.

It was a bit over a fortnight before he finally spotted her face in the crowd of incoming people. He had been verbally dictating an important missive to his scribe as he stared out the window, but when he saw her, he paused. The scribe looked up at him inquiringly.

“Your majesty?”

“Ah - I’ll finish the missive later. I need to go down to the throne room. She’s here.” Without a backwards glance, Rousset, dashed down the steps of the guard tower, and took one of the side entries into the palace.

The advisor who was sitting on the throne (as authorized by Rousset) was startled to see the king. It was hard for the advisor to repress his expression of boredom. After all, Rousset has insisted that he treat each and every lady with politeness. It was a painful routine: A cursey from the girl, and a look of hope. Then the advisor would take the ribbon she offered, look at it, and then hand it back. Following that was a politely worded apology. The girls’ faces would fall - some of them even started crying (which was horribly embarrassing). A few vulgar women even protested! All in all, it was not a job that the advisor ever thought he had to suffer through. Thus, when the advisor saw Rousset, a feeling of relief rushed through him.

Gladly, the man surrendered the throne. He thought he would be happy never to have to sit in that chair again, even if it did have velvet cushions. He bowed to Rousset and then departed.

The girls who had all lined up in hopes of capturing the king watched the exchange with curious expressions. They had no notion of what was going on - after all, none of them had actually ever seen the king before. Whispers rippled through the crowd, but Rousset paid it no heed. All he wanted was to see Carine.

As a pale blonde girl with an over-large nose came up to him, Rousset barely had the patience to be polite. It was only his good breeding that saved him - politeness came automatically. He barely even looked at her ribbon, before turning her away. The girl’s lower lip trembled, but she did not cry as she walked off.

The next girl had bushy brown hair, and eyes that were a little too close together. She had a slight lisp as she spoke. The following one had mousy hair, but a pretty face. After a while, their faces began to blur together. He did feel vaguely guilty for the ones that cried, but after a while, the guilt subsided. He didn’t care about anything them. Where was Carine?

Rousset started feeling like he would get a headache. He suddenly pitied his advisors, who had to endure this job for the past two weeks. He would have to find a way to show his appreciation for them. Even the velvet cushion of the throne started to feel uncomfortable, from sitting for so long. As king, it wouldn’t do to squirm - he had to maintain his regal bearing.

He found his mind starting to wander as his actions became automatic: Incline his head, paste a small smile on his face. Take the ribbon, pretend to look at it. Word a polite apology. Rinse. Repeat. Just how many women were there in this kingdom anyway?

When Rousset finally saw Carine, his heart leapt, and he was instantly energize. She was about seven girls behind the current one before him. It took every ounce of willpower to keep his eyes on the girl in front of him, rather than gawking at Carine. His first thought was that her hair was longer. The second was that she was no longer pregnant. She was beautiful. He had noticed that she was pretty before, but now - now his heart was racing. His palms were sweating. The girl in front of him was saying something, but he didn’t hear a single word.

  “I apologize miss, this isn’t the ribbon,” he said automatically.

  “I asked you to take a look at it. It’s quite special, I assure you,” the girl insisted.

“Excuse me?”

  “You didn’t look at the ribbon.” He looked down at the ribbon.

  “I apologize miss, this isn’t the ribbon.” The girl huffed with irritation and stomped off, her pride wounded.

Finally, Carine was in front of him. He was grinning like a lunatic, but he couldn’t stop himself. Carine couldn’t seem to help her own wide smile. She didn’t even pull out her ribbon - she just stared at him as he stared at her.

“Carine,” he said.

“Rousset,” she replied shyly. He knew it would be completely undignified, but he didn’t care - he stood up, climbing down the raised platform that the throne sat upon. Picking up Carine, he swept her in a wide circle, her skirts billowing outwards as she laughed with pure joy and delight.

He set her down, and kissed her. She kissed him back, and the whole world melted away.

Carine had been gone for nearly a fortnight. Millicent occasionally wondered how the girl was, but she did not doubt that Carine would find her happiness with Rousset. Unlike Carine, Millicent had little interest for gossip, so she did not tend to hear word of what was going on in the kingdom. The world of people did little to interest her. Their politics and maneuverings sometimes struck her as pointless and overly complicated. It seemed as though too much of the world ran on greed. She was often tempted to remove herself from society altogether, but sadly, she was not self-sufficient. There were still basic needs that had to be taken care of.

She was in town one day, her copper hair covered under a shawl. She hated drawing any attention, and she did not like going into town, but she had need of salt, and a few other necessities. A number of townsfolk recognized her, and nodded politely. They never said more than few polite words to her - they knew that the effort to try and draw her into conversation would be wasted.

She was handing some coins over to a merchant when she overheard some women behind her gossiping. The women had baskets in hand - it seemed they had their own shopping they had to do.

  “Married!” one of them was saying. “And to someone from this very town!”

  “What?” exclaimed another. “Don’t jest with me Marie.”

  “I’m quite serious!” the other woman said, affronted. “The King did marry someone from this town. I have it on good authority.”

  “Who?” asked another woman breathlessly. “Was it Fleur?” (Fleur was considered the town beauty - a golden-haired, blue-eyed girl).

  “No, not Fleur,” Marie replied. “Try another guess.”

  “Don’t tease us, Marie!” the other woman said with irritation. “If you won’t tell, I’ll ask someone else.”

“Oh alright,” Marie huffed. “He married… Carine.”

“What? That little slip of a girl?”

Millicent tuned out rest of the conversation. Though she was fairly certain that Rousset and Carine had feelings for one another, hearing confirmation of it still filled her with happiness for her friend. She smiled to herself, glad that Carine had found her happy ending. Finished with all her purchases, she quickly made her way back to the house.

Knowing that Carine was now married made Millicent feel less connected to the world of people than ever. Previously, when she still wasn’t certain whether Carine and Rousset would be married, there was the idea in the back of her mind that Carine would come back to her. Now that Carine was happily settled, she knew that she likely would never see the girl again. There was nothing holding her to this world.

She found herself wondering what she should do with her life. She had no attachment to this town - she did love the forest though. Maybe she should travel. She hadn’t explored the entire forest. For all she knew, it could be immensely vast. She could take the coins, abandon the house, and just wander. She had some foraging skills, and knew how to make very basic traps that could catch rabbits. Surely she could rely on her own abilities to survive, and use the coins to supplement the rest of her needs.

She considered her few belongings, and as tempted as she was to simply take the coins and go, she decided that she needed to buy a few more things in town before going on her own. A warm wool cloak. A waterproof rucksack. New walking shoes. Some twine. She already had a small knife, and a flint for starting fires.

Her mind set, she looked over her possessions to try and decide what to keep, and what to leave behind. There were a few things of worth that she could always sell for a few more coins in town. Her mind thusly occupied, Millicent began to plan for her new life.

It was a week before Millicent was actually able to depart. While she was able to purchase most of the items immediately, the cobbler needed time to make her new shoes. She was able to sell the cauldron and some of the furniture in the house. She had inquired about selling the house, but it seemed too much of an ordeal, so she simply left it. When Millicent walked away from her house towards the forest, she did not even turn back to give it a final glance. Her way was forwards.

As Millicent wandered, she mostly kept to the edge of the forest, however, when she came across a small brook, she followed that instead so that she always had a source of water. As much as she loved the woods, she knew that many dangers and predators lurked within, and she was no fool. She kept her eye and ears sharp. She subsided on the plants she gathered, as well as the animals that she caught in her basic trap. Living on a survival basis kept her from thinking too much.

She saw many deer. Once, she came across a boar followed by furry three piglets. There were many ducks, pheasants and wild turkeys. She found herself able to identify birds by their calls. She recognized the scratches on the trees as predators marking their territory.

Sometimes she thought she heard unearthly chatter or laughter. The fey probably roamed these woods freely, and though she sometimes felt their presence, she never actually saw them. Some moments, she thought she detected a sparkling at the corner of her eyes, but when she turned her head to look, nothing was ever there.

Millicent found herself losing track of time completely. Her life consisted of walking - always walking, finding food, and finding shelter. Rainy days were always unpleasant. Her cloak kept her mostly dry, but it was usually better if she could find some shelter, such as a cave or an overhang. If her clothing got soaked, it seemed to take forever to dry off, which left her clammy and chilled.

During the days, her survival efforts kept her mind busy. At nights, she would dream of the magical man, always right around the corner, right past the trees. She often woke up feeling sad and lonely. Sometimes, in the state between wake and sleep, she would hear melodic laughter - usually when that happened, she woke up with a small gift of food in front of her - mushrooms, or berries or roots. Once she even awoke to a small honeycomb, sitting upon a leaf. She had eaten that with relish.

One day, as Millicent was leaping across some stones to cross the stream, she heard the a faint melody in the air. She almost turned away from it, thinking it was a band of people, probably entertaining themselves at their camp. However, the music was too beautiful, too ethereal to be human music. What’s more, there was something familiar about it, something that tugged at her memory and called to her heart.

Without consciousness, her steps guided her towards the haunting melody. The song had no words, but nonetheless, she heard them. ‘Rumplestiltskin,’ the melody seemed to sing, ‘Rumplestiltskin.’ She came to a clearing, and saw a familiar man playing a familiar instrument. She stopped breathing.

Sensing a presence, the homely man stopped playing and looked up in her direction. His eyes widened. He stood, and looked like a startled deer, ready to run. He was already turning, already stepping away when she exclaimed: “Wait!” He didn’t stop.

  “Rumplestiltskin!” she called out. He froze in his steps, but didn’t turn to face her.

  “Rumplestiltskin,” she said again. “Someone told me once that names have power. It’s why you never told me, isn’t it?” He was unmoving.

  “Turn around,” she said softly. He did. His expression was troubled - he was far from handsome, and the troubled expression would have frightened most people, but to Millicent, his unusual face was familiar and dear. His eyes met her, and they were full of pain. Her heart ached. She walked up to him, closing the gap between them.

  “Rumplestiltskin,” she said softly once again, the name rolling off her tongue. Her eyes never left his, and he remained rooted on the spot as she drew nearer and nearer.

Soon, they were nearly toe to toe. She lifted up a hand, and rested it on his chest, over his heart.

  “Rumplestiltskin,” she said again. “I love you.” She raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Rumplestiltskin had long resigned himself to the fact that he would spend an eternity alone. The fey would certainly never accept him, and obviously, the humans did not as well. Not that he had any desire to live with humans - their avarice and small-mindedness made him sick.

At times, he thought he should simply find a bridge to live under. He was about as attractive as a troll, so it would certainly be fitting. It seemed that the only thing that brought him a measure of solace was his music.

As he played his songs on his delicate stringed-instrument, he poured out his heart and his sorrows. His songs were songs of loss, of sadness, of hopes and dreams crushed and scattered to the wind. His songs were songs of himself, and songs of Millicent.

He never paid heed to where he went. He just wandered where his feet took him, and when he could walk no more, he sat and played his songs. He took care to avoid contact with the fey or with humans. He could, at times, hear the fey chattering, and occasionally hissing angrily at him. He simply ignored him. As long as he did not enter their world, they left him alone.

Thus, it came as a complete surprise when he felt a presence to his side as he was plucking the strings on his instrument one day. He had been careful to avoid people - he supposed that once he turned his face towards them, they would run away in fright.

So, when he turned his head and saw Millicent, framed between a pair of delicate trees, he thought that his mind had snapped and he had finally gone mad. A second later, he realized she was real. Emotions burst through him, too intense and tangled to bear, and his instincts told him to run. She was too good for him. This encounter could only mean pain, for both of them. He was already on his feet, thunder roaring through his ears, trying to get away.

It came as a complete shock when she called out his name.

  “Names have power” he had once told her. “Names have power,” she echoed back to him. And he was completely in her power. She told him to turn. He turned. She was saying his name, over and over again, her voice like a caress, and he thought he would die of from the pain of his yearning. And then she kissed him.

Her lips were warm, and soft, and he felt as though the world was melting away and dissolving. Wait - it wasn’t that the world was dissolving, it was he that was dissolving! He broke the kiss, and looked at her startled flushed cheeks before looking down at his arms. His skin seemed to prickle, to burn, but it wasn’t painful - just strange. The coarseness of his skin smoothed away. The lumpy, over-muscled flesh became smooth. His bulbous fingers became long, and elegant. He was changing - changing back to what he used to be. Wait, no - there was still something different about him - he wasn’t changing back to what he was before. He could never return to what he was before.

Millicent watched in surprise as Rumplestiltskin’s features shifted and changed. It looked as though he was fading in and out of existence, pieces of his familiar face and body slowly vanishing. With a shock, she realized he looked like her fey lover! And yet, he did not.

He had the same, lanky build, the same, silky black hair. Yet, her fey lover had had a boyish look, and the person before her looked like - well, he looked like a man. He had a beauty that was almost harsh, as though elements of his cursed state had melded with his former fey state. It was almost painful to look upon him, to see that mix of beauty mixed with a rough and jagged edge.

She wasn’t sure of what to think, and stood frozen on the spot, her eyes wide.

  “Millicent,” he said, his voice as warm and rich as honey. Her name on his lips unfroze her, and she reached out her hands to cradle his face. Her luminous eyes scanned his dark ones.

  “You left me,” she said softly. There was no accusation in her voice - only fact. The depth of pain that she saw his eyes was like a crossbow bolt through her heart.

  “Millicent,” he said again, and surprisingly, his voice broke. They stood there, in the clearing, only the sound of the wind and birds around them. His emotions poured from his eyes into hers, and though nothing was spoken, she understood.

Her hands fell away. “If you leave me again, I will hunt you down.” There was a touch of laughter in her voice.

A smile quirked at his lips. He leaned down and kissed her, with a kiss that spoke of longing, hunger, desperation and all the love in his heart and soul.

  “I think next time, I will be the one doing the hunting,” he murmured before kissing her deeply once again.

A/N: Thought about writing an epilogue... but I really just wanted to get this story done with. I'm so glad to have finally finished it. Please Review!
(And thanks for all the reviews! They definitely kept me going. I'm currently starting a new fairy tale now - I might not post it here though since it'll be all adventure/romance and no smut. I have an account on fanfiction.net - more details in my bio)
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What's in a name?