Page 15 of Rumpelstilzchen

The boy—skin flushed with desire—had stared up at him with those glassy chestnut eyes, and Rumple couldn’t remember ever seeing anything more beautiful. He’d almost said those words out loud, but then the boy had closed them, as if he were so overwhelmed it was all he could do to preserve his sense of self, and spared him.

Red’s coat snagged on a rambling rose and he cursed out loud, breaking Rumple’s reverie and reminding him of where he was. He needed to regain control, but he was full to overflowing with unfamiliar emotions and needed an outlet. His black gaze settled on the young man, dramatically preoccupied with the small pull in the thread of his cloak, and he sent forth his shadowed tendrils to flip the hood up and over the brat’s head.

Rumple laughed—the low sound echoing through the forest—at the angry face that emerged from the oversized cowl. Now that he had given himself away, he had no choice but to materialise. Maybe that wasn’t the worst thing. Rumple only needed to make a report, and the most efficient way to do that would be to simply ask Red what he was up to. Then he wouldn’t need to linger and could return to the Royal District… and the cells. One specific cell, where a boy Rumple had lulled to sleep with his magick lay.

“Having fun on the Queen’s time, little archer?” His voice rang out, low and menacing.

In an instant, Red had trained his bow on him and notched an arrow. “What are you doing here?”

“The Queen sent me to check up on you. She expected you back already.”

“But I’m not even there yet!”

“Evidently.” Rumple flashed Red a cold smile. “But then, she did send a child to do a man’s job.” He rotated his wrist in an impatient gesture that implied Red should stop stalling.

Red swallowed. “There’s been a few… mishaps.” Then carefully recounted his journey thus far, but Rumple was only half listening.

This was an enormous waste of his particular skill set, and if Red insisted on drawing so much attention to himself with his antics, he could do so alone. Not that it was his place to say, but Queen Schön would do better to focus her attention on the increased rebellion by peasants across the kingdom than on this foolish mission.

“Just… fuck off back to the palace, and tell the Queen I’m almost there!” Red seemed flustered and overly defensive, and fleetingly Rumple wished he’d been paying more attention to their exchange as he’d clearly struck a nerve.

Still, that level of belligerence couldn’t go unchecked. His form wavered briefly before melting into pure darkness, and he commanded his shadows to reach for Red’s ankles.

Red jerked backwards. “Stop that!” His voice pitched high in surprise.

Rumple re-formed, closer than he had been before. “What’s wrong, little archer? Scared of the dark?”

“I’m not scared of anything, especially not an overgrown shadow puppet.” Red lowered his bow. “How does it feel, by the way? Being Her Majesty’s pet?”

Rumple’s smile vanished. His shadows clung to the tattered fabric secured at Red’s neck. He hated when the Queen referred to him that way, but coming from someone else, it crossed a line. How easy it would be to squeeze until that loose tongue swelled and stilled in his mouth. “Watch your tongue.”

“Or what? You’ll go crying to your mistress?” Red’s words dripped with venom. “That’s all you can do, isn’t it? Run back to her like a good little pet.” His hands trembled, but he pressed on. “Does she at least pat you on the head when you fetch her slippers?”

“You little—”

“Or does she just snap her fingers and point?” Red clicked his fingers. “Here, boy! Heel!”

With a rush, Rumple’s shadows tightened the fabric around his throat. Defiant and foolish until the end, Red lifted his chin and held the spirit’s gaze.

“You’re an unwanted, foolish child, and I don’t have time for your insolence. No wonder the Queen sent you to the Dark Forest in little more than a red cloak. You’re entirely expendable,” Rumple spat. “As you always have been, from the moment you were abandoned on the palace steps.”

Red forced out a laugh. “Better abandoned than enslaved. I may not have family, but at least I’m not spending eternity as someone’s trained dog.”

The shadows constricted. Red gasped for air. Yet, as much as he might have wanted to eviscerate the brat, he couldn’t. Red was off limits lest he incur Queen Schön’s wrath, and the knowledge frustrated him further. Before he gave in to his murderous temptation, Rumple dematerialised with such force that he burst through the forest as a blackened blur.

He finally came to a halt where the tree line gave way to the Oberland Mountain Range in the far south of Falchovari. The sun was at its highest point in the sky and bounced off the snow-capped peaks in a blinding array of colours. A beauty he would appreciate far more if he were free. If he had his Heart.

Rumple was a shadow geist—he reminded himself—one so old and powerful that he had matured beyond the noncorporeal realm. He hadn’t been born per se, but had risen from the nascent human sense of darkness. Just as there had always been light, there had always been shadow, and whenever levels of magick in the world grew too strong, some was funnelled into the creation of a spirit.

Yet he had been reduced to nothing more than the Queen’s “Pet.”

His clawed shadows swiped at the bark on the nearby trees and gouged trenches deep into the hard ground as they desperately sought to mete out his impotent rage.

A distressed cry carried on the air and rang through Rumple as if he were hollow.

Attracted to the sheer misery, his shadows ceased their pointless destruction and strafed along the tree line as if hypnotised. They had already been denied one kill, and maybe Rumple would gain back some mental clarity if they could slake their bloodlust.

Not far away, he discovered a young man with shoulders that heaved in sorrow, a heart that beat rabbit-fast, and a soaked mop of strawberry-blond hair so much like that of the boy in the cell that Rumple was immediately assaulted with yet more memories. Particularly the image of when the boy had leaned his head against Rumple’s inner thigh and looked up at him with such an open expression that had Rumple needed to breathe, he would have struggled.