From the Kingdom of Ardah - Deals

(Unspecified sensitive content: One, there is an instance of kidnapping.)

Maren crept away from the dagger, whose point was inches from her throat. “S-sir…” she stammered. “Sir, I understand we made a deal, but much has changed. I can’t give you—”

“Can’t!” snapped the short man, thrusting the knife closer. “Can’t…. Such a distasteful word, used by the weak in desperation. You won’t. I can sense it.” His glowing, bulging eyes fell on the baby clutched in Maren’s arms. “She is my price. She was my price. She will always be my price.”

“But so much has changed!” wailed Maren. “I made that deal out of fear! The King was going to kill me if I didn’t spin—”

“Not my concern, O’ Mighty Queen of Ardah.” He swung the blade in a wide arc, forcing her from the throne room and onto a balcony. She walked until the railing stopped her, pinning her between the man and the immense height below.

The short man danced after her, ending with a flourish and an impish smile. “You see, your firstborn is why I raided the castle. She is why I slaughtered your husband. She is why I freed you from the King. I’ve invested a lot in this little one.” His smile deepened, and he cocked his head and batted his eyelashes. “The game is invigorating. What else would you have me do?”

“Nothing….” Maren squeezed her child, who was still sound asleep. “Please, sir,” she implored, tears icy in the twilight wind. “Don’t take my baby. Please don’t take my girl. My husband and I spent years trying to conceive.” She gazed down at her daughter, remembering the magical wish they’d spoken to the stars, the very thing that had finally permitted them conception. “She will never be yours!”

The short man gritted his gnarly teeth, his expression morphing into one of malice. “You know, come to think of it… there is one thing I haven’t done yet.” He winded up, leveling the dagger’s hilt with his temple. “I haven’t killed the mother.”

Maren gasped.

The short man giggled, then bounced his eyebrows. “Reconsidering?”

“I… I s-stand by what I said—she will never be yours.”

“Hm…. seems you’ve chosen your fa—”

Something clanged off the man’s dagger, sending it twirling out of his hands. He whirled around as a hooded figure shoved past him, snatching the baby out of Maren’s arms and leaping off the balcony. Maren shrieked and drew herself to the railing, watching the stranger sprint along a lower roof, his body splashed with moonlight as he crested the castle.

“MY CHILD!” yelled Maren.

Something hit her in the shoulder, causing her muscles to go suddenly numb. Moaning, she plucked a minuscule dart from her skin, then felt herself fall backward, plunging into ever-consuming darkness. The last she remembered was murmuring her daughter’s name.

“Snow…”

* * *

Maren gasped, clasping her throat as she woke. “Snow!” she wailed. She scrambled to her feet and leaned over the balcony. The stranger was gone, and the moon had shifted in the sky. How long was I asleep for? What happened to me?

“Poison dart. You’ll be fine,” said a high voice. Maren spun around, seeing the short man leaning against the doorframe that opened to the balcony. He held a silver tea set with one hand, periodically sipping with the other. “Oh, and by the way, the tea is cold. It occurs to me that dead men neither tell tales nor brew proper tea.” He sipped again, savoring his remark.

“You did this!”

“Ah!” he snapped, erecting a spindly finger. “I didn’t shove my dagger through your heart when I had the chance.”

“Why not? I was vulnerable just a second ago.”

The short man shrugged. “I need your help.”

Maren blinked, perplexed. “Need me!? Earlier, you needed me dead!”

The short man ignored her and slurped his tea. “As I recall, you were once a miller’s daughter, void of the luxuries I gave you on account of our deal. Your father was a boastful man. He told the King many things about you—among them, your false ability to spin straw into gold. He named other abilities, though, one of which served me nothing until tonight. He said you could track animals and hunt them.”

Maren gulped. “You weren’t there that night.”

“Was I not?”

“I didn’t see you.”

“You needn’t see something to believe it.” The short man tossed the tea set over the balcony, and it clattered muffledly from below. “Reluctance is louder than words; your father was truthful, wasn’t he? You can track game, something a handful of maidens can’t do.”

“Sir, what are you proposing?”

“I’m proposing a deal. Help me find Snow White, and once she’s mine, you can see her eight days out of every year. Choose whatever dates you desire. I don’t care. Only one condition must be heeded—you NEVER reveal your true identity to Snow.”

“What?”

“You heard me. From this day on, her mother was devoured by… mhm… why don’t we say… a dragon? Ah, yes! A dragon! Snow White’s mother perished tragically at the hands of a dragon. I know a nice drake named Gandra—the perfect culprit.” He chuckled darkly and narrowed his eyes. “Have I made myself clear, Your Highness?”

Tears welled up in Maren’s eyes. It was her best chance to continually ensure her daughter’s safety, but only for eight days. It would be an unbearable process. “Why even take her?” she asked. “What could you possibly want with my Snow?”

“A wish is a powerful, magical thing. And to conceive a child through one… well… let’s just say that baby becomes very special. Snow White will grow to be a magic wielder, and I want an apprentice, someone to train in the dark arts. Someone like me.”

Maren clenched her jaw, and the short man held out his hand. “So… do we have a deal?”

“Tell me your name first.”

He cocked his head. “Excuse me?”

“No secrecy shall be between us. Frankly, I don’t trust you.”

The short man smiled wryly. “Don’t get cross with me, Your Highness. Either I’ll tell you or make you guess—which one do you prefer?”

“Do you want my help or not?”

The short man scoffed laughingly. “Clever queen,” he said, then bowed at the waist. “Rumpelstiltskin, at your service.”

* * *

Maren remembered every time she used to travel the alpine forests, hiking until they faded into rocky tundras that overlooked the King’s castle. She suspected that’s where the stranger had gone—to the mountains, looking to evade the eye of the castle. Even his trail was hinting at it.

Who else would want my daughter?

Rumpelstiltskin carved a path for them in the dense wilderness, his dagger splitting through shrubs. Each time he struck, the weapon made a glowing mark that consumed its target, and it dissolved into violet specks, a sight that awed Maren.

“Is that yours?” she asked.

“Are you accusing me of theft?”

“N-no,” stammered Maren. “It’s just… I’m curious, is all.”

Rumpelstiltskinn grumbled. “Forged it from Cinderock a few centuries ago. It cuts through the very fabric of our realm, tearing into the existence of whomever it strikes. Whether or not it actually kills is a mystery to me—my attempts to ask were thwarted.”

“You forged it, and yet its capabilities are unknown to you?”

Rumpelstiltskin laughed and sliced through another thick shrub. “Hammering some metal won’t conjure magic, Your Highness. I merely created the shell for a powerful enchantment. As for the client who so helpfully obliged me… well, he is to remain classified.” He ceased his cutting and glanced at her. “The thicket is gone, tracker, now lead on.”

Maren moved to the front again, hoping she was correct about the stranger’s path. His prints had vanished at the shrubs, suggesting they were his new route. He likley hoped it would mask his trail, but Maren knew better. If he had gone anywhere else, nature would’ve revealed it.

As she stepped across Rumpelstiltskin’s trail, a new set of tracks caught her eye. “There!” she said, pointing to a patch of grass. It was a twig from one of the shrubs, out in the open, distanced from its kind. “He indeed ran through here—a twig got stuck on his boot.”

“That could be anything,” whined Rumpelstiltskin.

“I was trained. You were not. I know signs when I see them.”

Rumpelstiltskin scratched one of his pointed ears. “Well, assuming your stick theory is correct, where has he gone from here?”

Maren looked further ahead, utilizing her skills. “This way.”

The air became crisp and sparse as they ascended the rugged peaks where no trees dared to grow. Maren and Rumpelstiltskin encountered harsh and unforgiving terrain within the mountains, and it only worsened the higher they climbed. Soon, the wind turned ferocious and wild, and the rocky earth made their feet slip.

“I’ve lost his trail!” Maren said.

Rumpelstiltskin pursed his lips, cloak billowing as he gazed at the horizon. “It’s nearly sunrise. Perhaps we should rest until then—our perpetrator can’t hide without shadows, and there are few on such open ground!”

“I’m not resting until I know Snow is safe!”

“Neither will I,” Rumpelstiltskin replied. “But we have no lodestar in these conditions!”

Maren rounded on the short man. “You have magic!” she roared. “So use it!”

Rumpelstiltskin stomped up to her, his teeth clamped in a vicious snarl. “Are you so arrogant as to believe you can command me? Are you so foolish as to believe every magic breed is the same? If I had the power to find your daughter, don’t you think I’d have her already?”

His head whipped to the side, and Maren caught a flash of silver in the morning light. Rumpelstiltskin outstretched a hand, and a blue essence flared, trapping something long and thin out of midair. Maren gasped, realizing an arrow hovered inches from her nose.

“Well, what do you know…” Rumpelstiltskin muttered. “I used magic, after all.”

“Quite the tenacious pair, aren’t you?” someone remarked.

Maren squinted at the voice’s origin, and from the shadows emerged a tall man. Green and brown leather covered his body, slung over by a sash that retained an abundant quiver. His left hand bore a longbow, while his right was partially concealed by an archer tab.

“You…” Maren said. “Where is Snow?”

The man glanced tentatively at a satchel hanging at his waist. It was large enough to contain a child, and though he glanced away quickly, Maren observed his tell. She charged, flexing her nails and preparing to rake them down this villain’s face, but he nocked an arrow. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?” he asked calmly. “Trust me, Your Highness, you don’t—and I mean, DON’T—want to challenge me. I am the Huntsman of Dalen. Master bowman, mercenary, hunter…”—he smirked, cocking an eyebrow—“servant.”

“Servant?” Maren asked. “Servant of who?”

The Huntsman leaned against a boulder, jostling the satchel and making Maren flinch. “Her identity is to remain secret, Your Majesty.”

Rumpelstiltskin twirled his dagger. “Give. Me. Snow,” he hissed.

With a grin, the Huntsman aimed the arrow at him. “Not a step closer, little man, unless you fancy steel in your skull—”

Maren punched the Huntsman in the jaw, throwing him off balance. Rumpelstiltskin advanced, baring his knife with a vicious growl. The Huntsman recovered quickly, drawing his own blade and slashing the short man across the belly. He laughed, disarming Rumpelstiltskin with a swift kick to the hand. His dagger clanged off a boulder a few feet away.

Rumpelstiltskin limped back into position, hands glowing as he tossed fireballs at his enemy. The Huntsman extracted a gem from his pocket, holding it like a shield, and it absorbed the flaming attacks. “Did you think my employer would leave me without protection!?” he cackled. “You’re a mere insect compared to me.”

A blade suddenly jutted out from the Huntsman’s chest, and he let out a choked gasp. Violet light coursed from the steel, enveloping the Huntsman’s body like flames. Maren poked her head out from behind his shoulder, her hands tight around the dagger’s hilt. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

She released the hilt and cut the satchel from the Huntsman, whose attempt to stop her was foiled by his own agony. With a groan, he fell to his knees. “You have…” he coughed, “no idea what wrath you’ve unleashed, miller girl. She will find you, and your dear Snow White will suffer.” And with that, he fell forward, dissipating into a thousand violet specks.

Maren studied the empty space on the stone, now illuminated in the light of dawn. How did he know I was a miller’s daughter? I’ve never seen this hunter. Nevertheless, her excitement at seeing Snow again outweighed her concern. She undid the ties to the satchel, her breathing fast, her vision obscured by tears. “It’s okay… Mama’s here… I got you.”

Snow White blinked softly, irritated by the blinding presence of light. Already sobbing, Maren scooped her up into a hug. “I thought I’d lost you!” she said. “My Snow…. My sweet, sweet Snow!” The baby cooed in her ear, equally delighted to see her mother.

Maren was so relieved that she forgot the man watching her.

“I think you’re getting Snow’s blanket wet, Your Highness,” said Rumpelstiltskin, his boots crunching on the pebbled earth. “Besides, you’ll want some tears left to cry when I… you know… begin her training.” He chuckled, madness lacing the sound. “No matter how traumatic things became, our arrangement remains intact. Now, I think it’s about time you get eaten, and I assume Snow White’s well-being.”

Maren moved Snow away from Rumpelstiltskin’s expectant arms, her grip on his dagger constricting. “I… I…” she faltered.

“You already tried begging, Your Highness. Pity is something I’ve forgotten how to feel, and frankly, it’s for the better. How do you think I’ve gained so much?” He stepped threateningly closer, biting his lip in deep thought. “Ah, how about another deal—you do so love to make them: give me Snow, and I’ll let you live. Your blood won’t be the first on my hands. I assure you that.”

“I don’t need your pity,” mumbled Maren.

“Oh?” asked Rumpelstiltskin. “Then what do you need?”

“Your death.”

Maren raised the dagger and brought it down upon Rumpelstiltskin. A violet line was drawn down his body, splitting it into two halves that briefly remained together. Rumpelstiltskin smiled manically, then broke apart, his insides replaced with tounges of violet magic.

Rumpelstiltskin cackled, the split sides of him moving simultaneously. “Clever queen. You’ve made the game even more invigorating.” His eyes narrowed, and he spoke softly before he faded into specks. “What else would you have me do?”

Maren stood alone on the mountaintop, her baby clutched in her arms. She had killed two people with the same blade, which still lingered in her hand. Reminded of it, she gazed down at Rumpelstiltskin’s weapon. It was a dangerous thing, probably deserving of a secure location. She noted to consult her royal guard upon returning, or whatever was left of it from Rumpelstiltskin’s raid.

“Come here, Snow,” Maren said, walking to the mountain’s edge. In the distance was her city, its white towers and gates dwarfing the woodlands. “Many years ago, before I met your father, I stood here whenever I felt alone. My father begged me to stay inside like the other maidens, like my sister, who complied with the world’s mundane expectations of women.”

She shifted Snow White, angling her so their eyes met. “That is why I wanted a child, so I could set them free, allow them to be whoever they wanted.” She pressed her forehead to the baby’s, not caring whether or not she understood. Her heart would remember it always. “Whether you run, fly, or swim, you have my unyielding love.”

Snow White smiled.