Rumpelstiltskin

There was once a boy. He was an orphan, living with his young sister in a cottage in the woods, nestled by trees. Honestly, it was more of a hut than a cottage, but he learned to appreciate what he had. When he was a child he had one goal: make something of himself. He would sometimes run to the edge of the woods. When he squinted and jumped, he could see a giant castle in the distance; sparkling and grander than he could even imagine. He used to think I'm going there one day. Once my sister is old enough to make the trip, the two of us will go, and make something of ourselves.

The days passed. The two siblings would make up stories of what would happen once their life began. He wanted to become a rich merchant or an inventor or at least be invited into the castle once. She was never really sure. Her dreams varied from baker to the queen herself. The only thing that stayed constant was that she always told him she would have a daughter. Emilia, she said. Emilia was a ridiculous name. Only two puny syllables! Six letters! And so despicably common! He indulged his sister's delusions but figured that when she did have a child she would at least pick a sensible name. He loved her so he kept his mouth shut. They agreed they would buy houses right next to each other right smack dab in the middle of town, bordering the palace.

Days turned into months and months turned into years. Finally, they packed their few belongings and said goodbye to the only home they'd ever known. They walked for weeks, hitching rides with whoever was willing to take them, housed in exchange for labor. Honestly, their journey could be a whole story of itself, but like life, this story marches on. The journey took a toll on both of their bodies, feet red like they'd danced by a fire. But they never wanted to stop, each footstep dragged forward by hopes, ambitions and dreams. They would make it though. He would never forget the look on his sister's face when they finally saw the palace. Sheer disbelief and awe, eyes shining. Was it all a dream? Marble and a thousand murals, guarded by a golden gate, ethereal. It inspired the two, determined to become great, worthy of a town with such a palace. Their heads filled with dreams of grandeur, they set out. He vowed that they would make something of themselves. No, not just something. Something extraordinary.

That was until his sister died. He barely even remembered it. Every thing seemed like a blur. When someone you loved dies, you want the whole world to stop. You want the skies to be grey. To mourn with you. But life goes on. There's a hole in your heart. It can never be filled, and as much as you try, it will always remain. You must accept it and allow it to be remembered yet not dictate your life. There's another option though. You let it fester. Spike your heart with despair. Become cold, twisted. Angry at the world. Lord why is the sky blue? when all he wanted was rain or thunder. The perfect little town. Full of opportunity. But it shouldn't be. Twin houses, just like they always dreamed, left vacant. And instead of the promising young man he was, as the years ticked by, he grew solem and bitter.

He stayed in town. Became a merchant. A jack of all trades, if you will. He had enough to buy both of those houses the two used to eye. But he never had the heart to do it without her. He liked traveling. It let him escape from the constant thoughts of his sister pounding through his head. But he could never forget. He picked up all kinds of impossible hobbies. Merchants were great teachers. He learned to make armour from fish scales, mirrors from pearls, gold from straws. He met all kinds of people. Mostly drunkards, but drunkards were good company. They would tell their stories, most of them of long voyages. They reminded him of himself. So young, so naive. But he smiled and wished them luck. That was until the miller walked in. The miller came in bragging.

"My daughter is so talented she can spin straw to gold. She can play the mandolin with her eyes closed. She can dance the merengue while juggling three chickens"

My daughter this, my daughter that. Perhaps she was somewhat talented, but her father gave an obscene amount of praise. Perhaps this was what parents were supposed to do. Regardless, he had met the daughter. She had two left feet and the fine motor skills of a goldfish. Annoying, but what was the harm in being proud?

Turns out there was a lot of harm. The miller came sobbing to him. His words were so hysterical they were barely comprehensible.

"Th-th-th-hey t-t-took my daughter. Said s-s-she had to m-m-make gold for th-them"

His daughter was taken by the king to spin straw to gold. She was locked in a tower, and if refused, was to be executed. Everyone knew she couldn't actually do it. Apon being begged for help, he was empathic. He agreed. In the dead of night, he scaled the golden gates. I always dreamed of being in the palace. How ironic. No invitation, but I guess fate works in mysterious ways. His joints squeaking and begging for relief, he lept into an open window filled with straw and a spinning wheel. The millers daughter sat inside, clearly distraught. Her green eyes were stained red, blonde hair laid limply at her shoulders, some of it clearly torn out. She recognized him. Kind of hard to miss. He was a strange little man at this point, grief weighing on his body, physically shrinking him. His red hair no longer seemed youthful, but rather a the curse of a mad man. She explained her predicament in tears.

"What is your name, child?" he asked, voice rusty from disuse

"Arabella"

His heart dropped in his chest. His sister's name. His poor Arabella-Wilhemina. Their parents loved long names. At least that's what he told himself. He hadn't even heard that name in thirty years.

Not even Ariana or Isabella. Arabella. As much as he hated fate for killing his sister, as much as she was the best, shiniest, kindest person he had ever known, he had to admit, this was a sign to help the girl. Perhaps it was a sign from his Arabella. And now that he was looking at her, the girl looked exactly how Arabella would have looked if she had made it to the ripe age of twenty-three.

Sensing an existential crisis afoot, the girl added "But you can call me Ari" Jesus, she was the one about to die, not him. If anyone had the right to break down it was her, not some random man in the tower.

Good. His sister was Arabella, or maybe even Belle, not Ari. Never Ari. However, he was not about to let her die. A glint of determination shone in his eye as he approached the wheel. He did the entire room in about two hours. The quickest he had ever spun gold. The girl, Ari, wept relief and joy. She insisted he take her bracelet as a token of appreciation. He didn't mind that one bit. He could sell it for a pretty penny or perhaps make a new mirror. As he carefully climbed back to the ground he studied the bracelet. Belle would have loved it. He decided to keep it, placing it in his pocket.

The next night he returned. How cruel was the king to force her to stay in this room? Ari told him the king decided it must be a fluke. This time the room was even fuller. He spun all of the straw while Ari told him about her life, her dreams her hopes. God she reminded him so much of Arabella. By the time he finished, he noticed a single tear rolling from his eye. He was sure Ari didn't notice. Ari lived with her single father after her mother's death. The miller was so proud of everything she did. Every piece of art she made was proudly hung on their walls, photos littered around the house. She had no idea what she wanted to do next. Probably marry some random man and wait for her life to begin.

When he finished, he jokingly asked "What are you going to give me this time?"

She replied by handing him her necklace. On the back, he read I will love you always - Mom

He tried refusing it. Clearly too much significance. If he had anything of Belle's he would hold onto it forever, protect it with his life

She insisted

"She's in a better place now, and I already know she loves me. It's too painful to hold onto anyway, and you could probably melt it down and sell it for a lot"

As he climbed down the walls, he knew he could never sell it. And yet again, he returned the next night. She was gushing

"The king is letting me out tomorrow!"

And the two were estatic. He spun in record time. They discussed their plans for the future.

When he left he asked her what she would give him

"I'm sorry. I don't have anymore more things to give you. What else do I have? My firstborn child or something?"

His voice softened

"You know, I think I'm ready to be a father anyway. One like yours. Celebrate a child. Brag about them to everyone who will listen"

"Make sure you don't go overboard. That's how I ended up in this mess" she laughed before becoming serious, "You've got yourself a deal. I would be honored. I've known you so long and I never even caught your name"

"Rumpelstiltskin. My name is Rumpelstiltskin"

She laughed and bid him farewell. She was finally released the next morning and returned to her father. The miller was so overjoyed he cried for a week straight.

He still went to see her even though she technically didn't need him anymore. On Wednesdays, they would meet up, have tea, and she would always leave him with some type of gift, whether it be bread, jewelry, or once a pile of straw.

About a year in, she exclaimed

"I'm getting married! To the prince!"

The wedding was beautiful. He had a front-row seat, cheering louder than anyone else. As much as he loved Ari he found himself thinking We did it, Belle. We're here. As much as he still thought of her every day, her remembered the good of her life, rather than resenting the world.

He still saw Ari every week. She looked to him for guidance, almost like an older brother. He heard of her woes as a princess; galas, embassies and most of all, her father-in-law. The king saw her as an insult, common blood, an ex-glorified-prisoner. The king essentially ran her life.

Especially once she got pregnant. Ari never wanted kids but the king insisted it was her duty to produce an heir. She decided that instead, it would not be her child in anything but blood. She would give the child up. She did not forget their deal. She asked him to become her child's father.

While insane and the king would definitely be royally pissed, his love for Ari and his own desire for a child persuaded him to agree.

Turns out the king was more than royally pissed. He threatened the life of everyone. Ari's husband, the prince stood up against his father. He created a contest. If Ari could guess the name of the man who would end up with her child, she would 'be able' to keep it. If she could not within a week, the child would be his. But Ari already knew his name. The king didn't have to know that though. He wrote his name to be sealed in an envelope as proof.

On the first day, she would have to read an list spanning miles full of common boys' names while he, the king and the prince all watched. Pshh. Like he could be a Braden or Jacob.

The next day, same thing with no results. Ari was elated.

"It's going to work! We did it!"

However, the third day, the list was longer than ever. She read and read names for hours. The king walked over to her and whispered something in his ear. Suddenly her face fell. He knew. The gig was up. He braced himself. Even unborn, he had grown to love his child. Ari couldn't even bring herself to say it.

A slash echoed through the palace. He realized that a dagger was pressed against Ari's back. Still, she remained silent.

"YOU IDIOT!" he screamed "JUST SAY IT"

She stayed silent. She was going to get herself killed. For him.

"Rumpelstiltskin! Please! Just say it! PLEASE!"

Still nothing. Suddenly, as quick as lightning, the king lunged, pressing the dagger against his jugular.

"please" he begged.

She murmured, now sobbing.

"Rumpelstiltskin"

The king smiled, pushing him to the floor. This was the lowest of the low. Which is worse, having nothing or having everything and watching it get ripped away? The king walked away, caressed Ari's face, taking the prince with him.

That's when he realized it. His leg was stuck in the floor. He pulled and pulled but he couldn't get it out. Maybe it was his will to live slipping away. Maybe it was the loss of his child- No, his daughter. He could feel it. It would be a girl. Ari got up, helping to pull out his leg. He felt himself ripping. Yes, leg from leg, but he felt his soul ripping from his body. It was time to go. Perhaps he had finally made something of himself.

Ari looked horrified but tried to soothe him, assure him it would all be okay, even though it most certainly would not. He looked up at her, knowing it would be his last few moments. He saw the sky, a gorgeous light blue. There wasn't nearly enough time to say what they wanted to.

"Promise me. Her name is Emilia. Emilia. Promise. Please."

Understanding what he meant immediately, she agreed

"Of course. I promise"

As they said their goodbyes, Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes.

"I'll see you again, Arabella"

And he grabbed his leg, ripping it clean off, killing himself in the process.