ONCE UPON 24 TIMES... STORY V

Story the Fifth
Ten of Wands
Rumplestiltskin
(Tyrionsa: Copper Spun Into Gold)
There was once a decent fellow, so honest that he lost his head. But he had a lovely daughter, who had just left the provinces up north for the royal castle, and of whom it was said at court:
"All that copper thread on her head, with the ransom her brother will pay, will be spun into gold." Or so the Queen Mother believed. For the realm was broke, and full of corruption, and teetering upon the brink of war.
So the maiden was led into a bedchamber full of silks and jewels in cool colours, to fit the colour of her eyes, and string instruments she could play like a virtuosa. It looked like a wonderful parlour, but was actually a gilded dungeon.
And the King of all the land, a mere stripling as stubborn as he was cruel, packed her by the wrists and said, with piercing green eyes:
"Now set to work and polish your courtly graces, for we are awaiting your lord brother to pay the ransom; and, if he does not accept our conditions and spin your copper hair into gold, and nip a war in the bud, you must die. After all, there's traitor's blood in your veins..."
Then he shut the door in her face and left her locked inside.
So poor Sansa sat down on her bed, tears in her azure eyes, and she did not know what on Earth she was to do. At last she broke into sobs and tears.
Suddenly, there was a friendly knock at the door, it opened gently, and there stood a little imp with odd eyes (the right one black, the left one green), short crooked legs, and a shock of platinum hair with golden streaks.
"Good evening, traitor's daughter. Why are you crying so bitterly?" he kindly asked her.
"The copper on my head will be spun into gold, a ransom paid will bring me home to Winterfell, but I have not a clue on how it's done."
"I know how to play the game of thrones," the imp replied. "Every day around this time, I will sneak into your bedchamber and teach you how to treat them. The Queen Mother is my all-but-perfect older sister, after all..."
"I would give you anything; this lilac hairnet, for instance," the maiden replied.
And the imp spread out a cyvasseboard on the bed and challenged her to a game of cyvasse. It was so hard thinking that her head ached and she grew sleepy. Of course Sansa lost the game.
"It will take ages for you to master," the imp replied. And they played cyvasse that day until nightfall, when, exhausted, she wearily drew her royal blue bed-curtains and wished the odd-eyed imp goodnight.
And she slept the good sleep of the innocent, drifting away to her native hinterland and to snowy eaves among conifer woods, until the dawn crept up the waves in the next morn.
A few hours after the sun rose, the King and the Queen Mother came, and both golden-haired royals were astonished at her mastery of the courtly ways, but their icy hearts were lusting more than ever for the precious ransom. Thus, when she was left alone with His Grace, he pinned the traitor's daughter to the wall and, holding his shortsword to her throat, hissed into her face:
"If you value your life, 'Princess' of the North, and those of your friends and kinsfolk, I hope that every single fire-kissed hair on your head, and also on your limbs, should be spun into gold as soon as possible." In sooth, young Joffrey was pleased beyond measure at his little game, but his thirst for pain, and the realm's thirst for gold, were not yet quenched. "And, if you succeed, this time you shall become my queen."
Sansa's heart sank in her chest, like a lead weight.
"She's only a traitor's daughter, and a traitor she will become; it's as true as the Wall of her home is made of ice. But I couldn't find a better wife if my men went to search, from Dorne to Winterfell... for she has not even shuddered as I pack her by the wrists, tickle her throat with cold steel, toss her to the ground... Even though Lord Grandfather mentions the Tyrell girl over and over again. Like, what do I know about a complete stranger?" the young ruler thought to himself.
When the maiden was alone, her skin as bruised as her self-esteem, in her bedchamber, the imp appeared on his short stumpy legs once more, and asked in the usual friendly way: "What would you give me in exchange for another lesson?"
"I have nothing more to give," she sighed.
"Then, promise me your own hand in marriage."
"Doesn't he know that I'm his nephew's fiancée?" the traitor's daughter thought. And, besides that, there was no other way out of the predicament. The imp might not be a pretty sight, but he was friendly and clever, completely unlike her crowned betrothed. So she promised the odd-eyed imp what he demanded. And they set to work once more as usual.
When the King came in the morn, and found everything as he desired, he straightaway packed his fiancée by the wrists and, dragging her into the throne room, proclaimed her officially as his bride... but was interrupted by his own lady mother and lord grandfather, and by an old dowager dressed in the Reacher fashion: Olenna Tyrell, the grandmother of the bride.
And Sansa thought of the future queen whom she would soon get to know, hoping that she would give her spouse a taste of his own pain... and, all of a sudden, she remembered the imp. She had not made it to Winterfell yet, the war had reaped countless casualties... and the Tyrells were now officially allied with House Lannister thanks to this engagement... She really hoped that the odd-eyed, stumpy-legged little imp would keep his word.

Days, weeks, moon-turns rolled on... and at last the Tyrells came to the Red Keep. The whole clan, lock, stock, and barrel... not only the bride and her grandmother, but her parents and siblings as well. And Sansa the traitor's daughter made friends with Margaery Tyrell, Margaery of the nutbrown hair and the hazel eyes, for the latter was more outspoken and was the one who started the friendship between both maidens.

She also made friends with the matriarch, her granny Olenna Tyrell, who was wise beyond understanding, and had decades of experience... and, while she was away playing her instrument in her gilded dungeon, the imp and the Tyrells hatched a plan to set Sansa free.

Only that she knew nought of that scheme.

At last the springtime sky was clear and wedding bells pealed loud and clear in the Great Sept. For the Royal Wedding, guests from the Vale of Arryn to Dorne gathered around the young bridal pair, in the vast gardens of the Red Keep. 

And Sansa thought of her own marriage to the imp, which had been against her will, and how clever and charming he was in spite of his stature; nothing like the self-absorbed bridegroom in that wedding.

Before the ceremony and the wedding feast, the imp had given her back the hairnet with all its amethysts, telling her to wear it at the royal wedding "for good luck." So now Sansa wore the hairnet, as she watched the dishes being cleared away. The imp, as cupbearer, picked a special amethyst from Sansa's hairnet and put it in his nephew's drink.

He drained the chalice at one single deep draught, to wash down the dry wedding cake...

and all hell broke loose.

Shortly after swallowing his drink, Joffrey began to cough and to retch. His ribcage felt constricted as if by a serpent, then his jaws locked up - he couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe, his earlobes and the tip of his nose turned blue (well, bluish). The young ruler knew he had been poisoned, but he was unable to throw up what he had drunk.

"Joffrey dear... JOFFREY!!" The Queen Mother screamed as he collapsed in her arms, suffocated, heartbeat erratic, going still and finally cold and silent. Her makeup ran dry with the streams of tears that ran down her face; no sorrow equals that of a mother who has lost her child forever.

In the ensuing chaos, the imp led Sansa to the cellars of the Red Keep, to the part where crates full of goods like Reach fruit and grain were shipped across the Narrow Sea. Using a footstool, he got inside an oversized crate first, then helped her get inside.

It was quite cramped inside, and even dark as Sansa put the lid back into place. "Don't breathe a word! Don't even whisper!" the imp said, putting an index finger to her lips.

She sighed and obeyed, and even shuddered as the crate was lifted and put into a wagon headed for the harbour of King's Landing. They would get married somewhere in Slaver's Bay upon arrival; living among slavers in another climate would be preferrable to that nest of asps, the Red Keep, which she was now delighted to no longer call home.

COMMENTARY

This bunny I had for quite a while, I mean Sansa and Tyrion remind me so much of Rumplestiltskin and the heroine in his tale... You can see it is an AU, with an alternate ending with Sansa leaving for Slaver's Bay with Tyrion instead of for the Eyrie with Lord Baelish... I want my Sansa to be happy, and to get to know the imp (like Belle got to know the Beast, or Jane Eyre got to know Rochester), looking beyond appearances.

Maybe also Sansa will join Dany's entourage and give her intel about what is going on in King's Landing? That is the fun thing about AUs, you get to rewrite the story however you like!

THE DUCHESS'S BOY

Her Grace, The Duchess Stilzchen of the North-East Gnomes, set down the letter she’d been reading. She took off her spectacles and laid them on the desk. Raising a hand, she summoned a messenger. She instructed the messenger:

“Find the human boy Edward and have him meet me in the bramble-garden in half an hour; and tell the Cook to have tea and cakes ready, the kind the boy likes. We are to be alone in the garden, absolutely no-one else is to be there.”

She rose from her chair and taking the letter with her she strode towards the garden, the very picture of gnomish dignity from the top of her ruby cap down to the tips of her claws, and all the wattles and warts in between.

She was sitting on a bench when Edward came into the garden.

“Come here, my boy and sit here beside me – I’m going to have to give you some unpleasant news.” The human boy, Edward, did as he was bid and sat down on the bench with the Duchess.

“I fear, Edward, that you are soon to lose your human inheritance.”

Now the boy Edward was a human boy, eleven years old, not particularly tall or handsome or in any way remarkable in appearance for a human boy; what set him apart from other boys was the way in which he seemed completely at ease sitting not two feet away from a pointed eared, pointy-toothed, pointy-nosed gnome.

“That’s not so bad, your Ladyship, I never really wanted to live in the castle and have the Queen tell me what to do all the time,” answered Edward.

“Edward, my dear, you were born to be a king among the humans. It was only by sheer good fortune and human foolishness that you’ve had a chance to grow up among the gnomes. And a kingdom is a lot of wealth to give up so easily... I could try to speak to your mother the Queen one more time.”

“Please Ma’am, don’t trouble yourself. She doesn’t want me; you’ve tried before.”

The Duchess lowered her head until the dewlap under her chin lay across her broad bosom. “It’s my fault, you know, that your mother is that way. You know the story of how my nephew Rumple made a bargain with the Queen – that was before she was the Queen, just a common girl she was then – that he would help her make gold in exchange for her first born child.” Edward nodded yes.

“Well I know about making bargains with humans, and they are not to be trusted to keep their end of the agreement. And Rumple was such a fool to advance gold for credit – you must never do that with a human, remember that –“ The Duchess paused, looking intently at the boy.

“Yes Ma’am, never; I’ll never extend credit to a human,” he said.

“Good lad... So, knowing that Rumple would have a terrible time collecting on the debt, and seeing myself as eminently more credit-worthy than the Queen, I facilitated the exchange in advance by taking you in escrow....You look confused, Edward – I just mean that I kidnapped you at birth and replaced you with a place-holder I made from a turnip, some clay and some baby clothes... I didn’t actually do anything to you except make sure the Queen couldn’t hide you from Rumple when he came to collect. I didn’t tell Rumple. Poor Rumple wasn’t very bright, and I don’t think he could have carried out his part in getting back the place-holder prince from the Queen without letting the secret out if he’d known.

"Rumple had already promised me he’d give me the Prince to raise once he’d collected the baby from the Queen. So, if all had gone according to my plan, at the end of the exchange the Queen would have been childless, Rumple would have been so proud, and I would have the place-holder back. No-one except myself would ever know I’d already had you here in my home for a whole year.”

“So,” Edward said with a smile, “the Prince in the castle is a turnip-head! No wonder everyone says he’s so stupid.”

“I made the place-holder Prince too well, I’m afraid. He’s got dimples and blue eyes and golden hair in the perfect proportions for a boy, and he always does what his mother and teachers tell him.”

“That’s not very real,” said Edward.

“Well, there is another thing – I needed the place-holder to be believable for a whole year, so I entangled his enchantment with another baby born in the castle three days earlier. That way whatever the real baby did, the fake Prince would do, just three days later.”

“Like growing and crawling and stuff?”

“Yes. I hadn’t thought some things through entirely, such as how unlikely it would be for two real babies to have all of their teeth erupt in exactly the same order, but the humans were fooled.”

“Humans are pretty gullible.”

“Except you, my special boy!” The Duchess tousled the boy’s rather ordinary brown hair. “Now you know how the story goes – Rumple, poor fool, gives the Queen a chance to keep her baby, and ends up dead. Poor Rumple.” She pulled a large handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “Now to honor Rumple’s bargain, I had to return you, the real prince, to the Queen. I wrapped you up and sneaked into the nursery.  I hadn’t expected the Queen to be sitting there, singing to the fake prince.”

“Prince Turnip-Head!” Edward added.

“Yes, Edward, she was singing to Prince Turnip. She saw me and stopped singing. I quickly explained that I was going to give her back her real baby, and that I could take the fake-prince if she wanted, or I could turn him back into a turnip if she preferred. She didn’t comprehend a thing I said. She grabbed a broom and chased me, screaming her head off that someone was trying to take her baby. Well, that was almost true, but  -- “

“She didn’t want me” said Edward softly.

“It’s not that simple. She thought she had the perfect baby – that’s my fault, for being such a good enchantress. You on the other hand, were real; you had a poopy diaper, you were teething, and once she started chasing us with the broom you started crying like a baby-banshee. She preferred the illusion.”

“Stupid humans,” said Edward, with a tear sliding down one cheek.

“Now there,” said the Duchess, wiping his face with the handkerchief, “you are an excellent apprentice-magician, and one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. I’m so glad I got to bring you back home with me again that day.” Edward managed a small smile. She patted his cheek “That’s it, lad, a brave heart can smile even on a dark day.”

“If she attacked you with a broom, why didn’t you put a curse on her?” asked the boy.

“I was too busy running away to stop and curse her. If her aim with the broom had been any better neither of us would be alive today. I tried again to fulfill Rumple’s part of the bargain on your second birthday. The Queen used a torch instead of a broom to chase me away. On your third birthday she was waiting for us to appear and she set the dogs after us. I had to use magic to get away that time.”

“So you gave up.”

“No. The Queen was convinced a terrible creature was trying to steal her baby and replace it with a changeling. So I thought it would be wiser to let the Queen keep the fake-prince until she figured out on her own that he was a fake, and then she would want her real baby back. She still hasn’t figured it out, which says a lot about her intellect.”

“Stupid Queen,” muttered Edward.

“The child that the fake-prince is still imitating, three days behind, is the daughter of the Master of the Hunt and his wife, the Mistress of the Queen’s wardrobe. The Master of the Hunt has no sons, so he takes his daughter riding, hunting, tracking, and so forth, so the fake-prince has not been a completely girly-boy turnip-prince. However, new and important events have transpired.”

The Duchess picked up the letter she’d been reading earlier. “My informant among the drain-pipe dwarfs tells me that yesterday the daughter of the Master of the Hunt was seen kissing the son of the Sergeant-at-arms behind the old west barn.”

“Oh!” said Edward.

“This is a very intolerant kingdom, at least among the humans. The Queen will faint. The King will call the Bishop. The Bishop will blame the devil and will perform an exorcism. The exorcism will break my enchantment, and the fake-prince will revert to turnip and clay.”

“But then I can be Prince!”

“No. I wish it were so, but the Queen will declare that someone has stolen her blond-haired, blue-eyed boy with dimples, and that the turnip was a changeling. Although this is mostly true, it won’t be quite true in the way she means it. Soon hundreds of young men and boys having blond hair, or blue eyes, or dimples, will begin appearing at the castle, each one claiming to be the lost prince.”

“But I’m the real Prince!” said Edward angrily.

“I know, dear boy, but we can’t prove it. Also, you aren’t blond or blue-eyed, and you don’t have dimples. We’d have to use a spell to make you look that way, and you’d have to pay your first-born child to buy that kind of spell.”

 “I don’t want to look like prince-turnip! Why should I have to change when I’m the real boy?”

Edward’s anger was mixed with tears, and the Duchess made use of her handkerchief again.

“I know, it doesn’t seem fair -- but the world isn’t about what is fair. We gnomes say that it is the sign of a greater heart to look for what is good instead of what is fair.”

“So I should look for something good to come out of all of this?” asked the boy, sniffling back tears.

The Duchess wrapped the boy in her loose-skinned gray arms and hugged him close. “Getting to see you learn and grow has been the greatest good thing that has ever happened to me, Edward. I hope someday you will see all the good you’ve done by being here.”  

“That was the problem, wasn’t it, that the fake-prince was too good-looking?” said Edward, his face against the fabric of her silk and burlap gown.

“That was my fault,” said the Duchess. “I didn’t know what a real human baby would look like. “

“And to get to look pretty enough to be the Prince I’d have to sell my first-born? And I’d never look like myself again?”

“That’s what it would cost.”

“I don’t want to be Prince that much.”

“Do you think you might want some honey cakes?”

The Duchess felt the boy nod against her shoulder. 

They sat for a while eating cakes and drinking tea. By the time the supper gong sounded they had finished all the cakes, and washed their faces in the fountain.  They’d talked about the problem of how sometimes people of all kinds were blinded by beauty, or lack of beauty, and how that had caused so many problems for Snow White, the Beast of Beauty and the Beast, and so many others. They’d agreed; the Gnomish way was best: look for a good bargain, buy low and sell high, and never be afraid to take a profit.

During the daytime Louise Quenneville is found sitting in front of a microscope. Evenings, she investigates the tracks that birds, squirrels, cats, mice, and children have left in the snow of her yard and imagines what might go on in the yard when she is away at work. Sometimes she works late and it is dark when she gets home; that's when the night creatures come out and things can get strange. Skunk tracks look much like cat tracks in the dark. Life is full of lessons.