Rumplestiltskin (12 page)

Aubrynn curtsied deeply, her dress splaying out around her. With her head lowered, she did not see that Rumple refused to bow. “Your Majesty,” she whispered as she stood back up, her gaze taking in the splendid columns around the king’s raised platform. So this is where their tax money was going—to richly decorate such rooms. Her eyes wandered to the multifaceted chandeliers and tapestries, to the immense glorious paintings and the gold and mahogany filigreed ceiling. The whole room gleamed in hues of reds and golds. It was splendid, but much too extravagant for such a small kingdom to sustain such wealth.

“Come here, Maiden,” the king commanded. “Come all the way up to me.”

Rumple began to walk with her, but the king pointed at him. “Filth! You will stay away from me! You will not bring your curse any closer to this throne.”

“As you wish.” He smiled; glad to know his brother was afraid of him.

With great trepidation, Aubrynn bravely took the last of the steps up to the king. She went to curtsy again, but he held a hand out. “No, do not. Come here, my dear. I want to see you.”

She took another step forward, as his hand came to rest upon her shoulder. His throne sat a foot or so higher, and so she had to look up to meet his gaze. After a few moments of silence, she finally asked, “Yes, Your Majesty?” not sure if she should remain quiet longer, but not willing to stand there and look the fool.

His hand snaked up and caught a lock of her long hair. Tugging, he pulled her a bit closer until the toes of her slippers were flush up against the marble step his throne was resting upon. “I forget how beautiful you truly are until I see you again.”

She flushed and looked away.

“Aubrynn Sloat, I have warned you before, when your king demands your attention you give it to him—fully.”

Her eyes met his cool stare. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I was not going to speak of such things, but I have decided to change my mind. I know your game, Maiden.”

When she did not respond, he continued, “I know you are secretly after my throne.”

She balked and shook her head.

“Do not pretend with me! I know you wish to rule here with that wasted rubbish over there! You think you can overturn me. You think you can upset all that I have done and take over! I think
not
!”

“No! Your Majesty, I promise you. I want nothing of what you speak of—nothing! How would such a thing even be possible? Why would you imagine this of me?”

“Aubrynn, shut your mouth!” He tugged her hair pulling her face next to his.

She winced but remained silent.

“Leave her alone!” shouted Rumple

“Honestly?” King Marcus smirked as he watched his lame brother hobble up to them. “Do you truly want to do this?” He snapped his fingers. Both guards pulled their swords out at once. They stood by the king awaiting his next orders.

Rumple paused, his hand tightening around the stone. “Let her go. She has no idea who I am—none. She is not the threat you believe her to be. It is me you wish to see gone from this room, not her.”

“No, Rumple!”

“Silence!” the king hissed in her face, spittle splattering all over her cheeks and forehead as his hand tightened its grip upon her hair. Anger laced through every word as he continued, “You call this wastrel Rumple? You have a pet name for such a twisted pile of refuse?”

When Aubrynn did not answer, the king pulled her hair—shaking her head. “Answer me! Why? Why do you call him Rumple?”

“I—I—it is because—” Not sure what to make of the king and his volatile ways, she was at a loss as to what to say. What was he really asking of her?

“Because?” He yanked her hair and Aubrynn could not hold back her cry of pain.

“I warned you!” shouted Rumple. “Unhand her now!”

The king snapped his fingers and the guards lunged forward.

In the blink of an eye, the stone in Rumple’s fist shone bright blue before both of the guards’ swords flung across the room to his waiting hands. Shocked, the guards stumbled backwards as Rumple cautiously moved forward. He was crouched slightly, the swords pointing menacingly at the men. One pure steel and the other glowed blue from the stone in his hand.

“I said to unhand her,” he hissed—his eyes never leaving his brother’s face.

Slowly one by one the kings fingers unwrapped themselves from Aubrynn’s hair until she was free, he pushed her toward Rumple. “I want nothing to do with you and your witchcraft! Stand back!” he shouted.

“Oh, dear, King Marcus,” Rumple said slowly as he walked closer. “I think you do want my witchcraft.” He grinned. “In fact, I think that is what you want more than anything else in this world.”

Aubrynn’s heart raced as she scrambled to get behind one of the pillars and away from the men.

The king gulped and then tilted his head in acknowledgment. “You clearly have the upper hand for now. What do you want from me?”

Rumple never let his eyes leave his brother’s, though he knew exactly which portion of the room Aubrynn was. He could feel her—his heart taking in every frantic breath of hers. He had to do this; he had to do this to save her. “You will release her father with a public apology and then…”

“And then?” asked the king.

Rumplestiltskin took a deep silent breath and sternly said, “And then you will marry her, or I will slay
you
.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“NOOOO!” AUBRYNN’S SHOUT ECHOED around the room. “No, Rumple. No! You cannot make me marry him. What are you saying? You know I love you.” She rushed up and tugged on his arm.

If she were not careful, she would ruin everything. Rumple ignored her and glared right at the king. “So will you do as I say—release her father and marry the gel?”

The king looked incredulously at her. “Do you really love him?” he asked, not quite certain he was hearing correctly.

She rose her chin up and said, “Of course I do. He is more man than you will ever be.”

“Careful, my dear,” Rumple said quietly, his eyes never leaving his brother. “You do not want to upset your king.”

Looking from one to the other and seeing the emotions flit across her face, Marcus was astounded he was witness to such an inconceivable conversation. “Do you really prefer
him
to me?” he asked her.

“Yes!”

He blinked at her fervent looks. “Why? He is so—”

“Do not you dare call him ugly! He is not ugly! He is beautiful. He is ten times more beautiful than you will ever be.”

“Aubrynn, enough,” Rumple commanded.

“And you honestly do not know who he is?” the king asked.

She stepped closer. “No. Who is he? If you know, will you tell me? He refuses to.”

Marcus flicked his gaze toward Frederico, his eyes narrowing. “You really do love her, do you not? You have truly found someone to love the hideousness that you are and so you love her. So much so, you would do anything to protect her. Even hide your true name from her and give her hand up in marriage—to me.”

Rumple flinched.

The king laughed. “Oh-ho! Is this not one of the most bitter schemes you have ever heard of? A cursed crippled fool falls in love, but gives her to the wicked king, so that she may live.”

“Enough!” shouted Rumple. “Do we have a deal? Or do I end you this instant?” He lunged forward, bringing one sword up to Marcus’s throat.

The king grinned. “I would be more than happy to wed the woman I had intended on marrying anyway. We shall do so tomorrow.”

“No!” Aubrynn cried and flung herself across Rumple’s arms.

He almost lost one of the swords in the process, it scraped across the king’s neck and hit his royal velvet robes. This would not do. “Guards!” Rumple called. “Take this maiden to the chamber King Marcus has prepared for her, so that she may calm down and begin preparations for tomorrow.”

The guards stepped forward and glanced at the king for his approval. When he nodded, the men strode toward Aubrynn. She stepped back and turned to run, but it was too late, they were excessively quick and caught her up fast.

“Release me! I will not marry him! Release me!” she cried. “Why are you doing this, Rumple?”

The men dragged her out of the room. When the door shut, Rumple stepped away from his brother a bit and Marcus asked, “What will you do now?”

“Nothing. Stay here. Make sure you protect her and treat her well—act as her guard.”

“You truthfully plan to attend the wedding? You are eager to watch her wed another?”

“I cannot give her what you can. I cannot even give her a proper home. But you will—and you will treat her kindly as well, I will see to that.”

“Aww, the poor little prince who is dead—what would it be like had you been on this throne now? Hmm? You could have wed her, could you not?”

Rumple raised an eyebrow. “Are you really dim-witted enough to goad me into killing you?”

“Ha!” Marcus flicked his wrist. “You honestly believe you have it in you to rule this kingdom all rumpled and stilted like that? Besides, if you were truly going to slay me you would have done so already.”

“If you harm her, I will kill you. Mark my words.”

Marcus sneered and then shook his head. “It is disgusting, you know.”

“What?”

“I am the king! I am the one with all the looks. I rule the land and own a remarkable castle—and yet you are the one who falls in love first.”

He grinned. “It was destined to be, little brother.”

“It is mind blogging is what it is.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “I am sure she will forgive me in time. Soon, she will barely remember me—as you all prefer to treat me.”

Marcus shifted in the throne. “The only reason why we are having this little chat is because you hold the rapiers. Do not think you can act this way forever. You will not rule over us. You will not demand things and declare this or that. You will not think yourself better than us. You are nothing! Nothing!”

The sword in Rumple’s right hand glowed even brighter blue than before and Marcus felt himself being lifted off of his seat.

“What is this? What trickery are you playing at? Put me down at once!”

“Do not forget who has the witchcraft in their possession and be grateful I am as forgiving as I am.”

The king crashed down onto his throne. “Fine! I will do whatever you wish. I will keep her happy and coddled. My Brute! You can even have our first child if you are so inclined. Anything! Just stop doing that hovering nonsense.”

Rumple tilted his head, eyes concentrating on a spot beyond the king’s chair. “I would love to have the child. I would love it more than anything. To raise a piece of her—and to truly have such happiness around me.” He shook his head. “But, no. I would not do that to her. She will need him much more than I.”

The king lunged for the blue sword while his brother was distracted. Whipping it out of his hands, he crowed, “Ah-ha! I have captured the magic!”

Rumple’s fist turned blue and the sword immediately found its place back within his hand. “You were saying?”

“Go, now! Be gone with you!” whined the king.  “I have things to do to prepare for the wedding tomorrow.”

“Will you really be there tomorrow, or will you turn craven at the last possible second and flee?”

“What?” he smirked. “To wed the only woman you have ever loved?  I would not miss this for all the kingdom.”

“Good.  See that you are.”

***

Rumple walked into his room and threw the swords on the floor at the foot of his bed. He collapsed, sitting on it, his hands immediately going to his face.

What had he done?

What had he done?

His shoulders shook for several minutes as he wept.

He loved her more than he had ever loved anyone before—and now he was giving her up to the most selfish of men. But what else could he have done? The second he left her side the king would have killed her. Marcus would have. He still was not wholly convinced she did not know who he was. And Marcus would not take the risk that she would not one day try and become queen. By putting her on the throne—it was the only way to truly save her life. To guarantee his brother would not poison her or something worse.

How he hated himself. How she must hate him!

He lay down on the bed, staring up at the stark ceiling. His life will forever be like this now. Dark, cold, barren. He closed his eyes.

How he loved her! How he wished in a million ways things could be different, but he simply could not see a way out of it. He could not.

He would show his face tomorrow. He would wear his finest clothing and stand back with the servants and watch the beautiful girl walk down the aisle and pledge herself to his brother.

And then his world would truly end.

But she would live—and to have her live was worth it all.

Was it not?

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

AUBRYNN PACED WITHIN HER chamber—the finely decorated room with its purple silks and cream-colored linen did nothing to satisfy her broken and most distraught heart. How dare Rumplestiltskin do this to her. How dare he react this way—and tell her—nay, force her to marry the king. King Marcus deserved to be fed to the crocodiles of the wildest of kingdoms. That man was a complete useless muddle. What woman in her right mind would even look twice at such revulsion? He was hideous! Monstrous! Evil!

Urgh!

She spun on her heel and grabbed the first of the many lavish pillows she could find. Holding it to her mouth, she shouted and screamed great frustrations into it for several minutes. Eventually her shouts turned into sobs as she fell onto her rear end near the bed—the pillow still hiding her face.

Why? Why would he do this to her?

Did he not love her?

Did he not care for her at all?

Was this a polite way of detaching himself from an overly excited girl?

She was so mortified. So very tormented. So torn and lost and scared.

She was scared.

She was more scared now than when she felt her father or she would die that first night. Now she knew she would live—and forever be miserable.

Oh, how she hated Rumple at this moment! How she despised him for being so, so, so—Urgh!