I have a lot more than this, but this is, I guess, just a starter. It’s the beginning of the book.
THE RUMPLESTILTSKIN DAUGHTER
When her father told her of a girl in Iliria who could spin straw into gold, Princess Lila thought he was joking, but then when he told her that if some peasant could do it, she could, she thought he was mad. He told her that she had to spin straw into gold, or he would kill her. So when the little man came, and said he could do it for her, she gave in rather easily. First she gave him her necklace, and then her ring, then he asked for her firstborn.
“Sir, I have no child.” Lila explained. “I have no husband.”
“Ah.” Said the little man with a sinister look in his eye, “But you shall, someday. Promise me that when your first child is born, you will give it to me, and I will spin the straw into gold once more for you.”
Lila was horrified as she heard her own voice whispering, “I promise.”
Five years later, a princess was born, Princess Rosella. But to Lila’s horror, the small man came to claim the princess.
“Wait! No, don’t take my baby, please!” Lila sobbed, falling to her knees, her long dark hair fell to the floor.
The small man stopped, and looked thoughtful. “I suppose that if you could guess my name in, say… Three days, I will not take your child.”
“Oh, thank you, sir, thank you!” Lila looked up, her face shining with tears.
* * * *
Rose sat at the spinning wheel, and cried. She had made a mess. Again. “I can’t do it. This is the worst thing I have done yet.” She could not understand it, how had she managed to get her hair in the spinning wheel? Just then, Aaron walked in holding a broom and dust pan.
“What have you done?!” He cried, looking half horrified, half amused.
“Aaron, it’s not funny! I just can’t make it do what I want!” Rose sobbed. Her long dark hair would have to be cut off now.
Aaron sighed. “You know, sometimes I wish that your mother had gotten father’s name correct, she was so close, and then we would not have to deal with you!” He sighed, and pulled his long bronze hair back and tied it with a piece of twine. “Just go to your room, Rose.” He shook his head.
Rose sniffed. “I can’t.” she brushed a lock of dark hair from her face, and explained, “I would have to take the spinning wheel with me.” She gestured towards her hair, tangled in the wheel.
Aaron groaned, and seized a pair of scissors that were sitting on the desk, and he cut Rose’s hair. He left it as long as he could, but he was not very careful in making it straight.
Rose fingered the ragged ends of her hair. It was still long, falling halfway down her back, but she could not sit on it anymore. It felt strange. “Aaron, I am sorry! I did not mean to, I just…”
“Just go.” Aaron pointed her to her room, and gave her a light push.
Still crying, Rose left for her room. She hated the dank room, she hated the whole tower. The men who were now her ‘owners’- Rumplestiltskin’s seven sons- were not cruel to her, but Rose would give anything to have stayed with her mother. She could not remember her mother at all, except for one vague memory of deep blue eyes, with thick, dark lashes. Even though Rose had no proof that the eyes were that of her mother, or that they were not just an image of her own eyes, she clung to that memory.
Rose fingered the golden ring that she wore on a chain around her neck. It was her mother’s ring, and it was beautiful, gold set with a stone as blue as the sky. As Rose admired it, a tear splashed from her nose onto her hands. As she watched, the tear rolled off of her slender hands, and landed on the hem of her skirt, turning that small spot from pale pink to a darker shade. She continued to watch as two more tears followed the path of the first, making three dark spots on her skirt. She dried her eyes with her sleeves, and she walked to the bed, and sank on to it.
Her little room was sparsely furnished and dully colored, with the hard little bed and it’s grey blanket, graying pillow, and Rose’s aged rag doll, Flossie. Near the window was the large, squashy armchair, it’s dull red cover growing dusty. But one the thing that Rose liked was the little shelf tucked away into the corner, with seven books, with not a speck of dust or a smidgen of dirt, for they were the things that Rose cherished above all else, with the exception of the golden ring around her neck.
Rose hiccupped, and hugged Flossie tight, before sticking her head around her door. “Aaron?”
“Aaron left, Rose.” Rose heard Zorn call from the next room.
“Oh.” Rose stepped out of her musty room, and a shaft of sunlight fell across her face, turning her hair a golden brown color, and causing her face to shine with sparkling tears. Rose squinted through the suddenly to bright light, and saw a shaggy head of crimson hair, Zorn.
Zorn snickered. “Tell me, did you actually get your hair caught in the wheel?”
“Oh, Zorn. Leave the girl alone!” a voice called from the corner.
“Shuttup, Falcon.” Zorn growled, glaring at his brother.
Falcon smiled mischievously as he stepped creepily out of the shadows. “Tut, tut little bro! You ought not to be so mean to the poor little one!” he made a mocking bow in Rose’s direction.
Trying to keep from bursting into tears again, Rose asked, “Where are Jayk and all the others?”
Falcon shook his head, and vigorously brushed his brown hair from his eyes, which had a green tint mixed in with solid gray. “Aha! The little girl asks about Jayk! I will be sure to tell him, he will be pleased!” Falcon turned to Zorn, and grinned, “I do believe that he has rather taken a fancy to her.” He jabbed his thumb at Rose.
Rose felt her face burn. “He has not.” She said, quietly, turning her face away, and letting her hair hide her face. She did not want Falcon to see her blush. Turning on her heel she walked to the small kitchen. She sat at the small, scrubbed table, and put her head on her arms. She began to cry quietly. Soon she was so absorbed in the pattern of the rhythm of her sobs that she did not notice when the door opened quietly, and Jayk’s light footsteps came across the wood floor to stop beside her. She jumped when she felt his hand resting on her shoulder.
“Rose?” Jayk murmured, “Are you alright?”
Rose sat up, and turned to look at Jayk. He was the youngest of the seven brothers, and he was the one who Rose felt was actually her family. “Hey, Jayk.” Rose brushed the tears off her face.
Jayk smiled. “Are they teasing you again?” he asked, looking slightly concerned.
“Yes, but I’m alright. Now. Thank you.” Rose smiled faintly.
Jayk turned his thoughtful, pale blue eyes to the now slightly open door. “I wish they would stop making you cry.” He said, after a long pause. “I don’t like to see you cry.” He looked up at the ceiling, and his thin brown hair fell out of his eyes, and his slender face lit up as the sunlight fell on it.
“I’m OK, Jayk.” Rose said, rising and placing her small hand on his shoulder.
Jayk looked down, and shook his head. “Have you seen Ammon at all today?” he asked, after a moment’s thought.
“No, I haven’t. Have you seen him?” Rose replied, turning back to her chair, and sinking into it once more. She paused, “Why?”
Jayk sat next to her on the floor, and placed his hands on his knees. “Because I have been looking for him, and I can’t seem to find him anywhere.” He placed his chin in his hands, a perplexed look on his face.
“Huh. That’s odd.” Rose twisted around in her chair, to look at the door that lead to the great outdoors, as though she hoped that Ammon would walk in at that moment.
Suddenly, as though responding to a call, Ammon did walk in. He had flower petals in his soft, black hair, and the tingling smell of outside danced in the door behind him, and it clung to his tunic and pant legs. Along with that outdoorsy smell was the sharp smell of spices that came wandering out of his pack, and the meaty smell of tonight’s dinner.
Ammon smiled around bright little room, his green eyes sparkling. He placed his pack on the floor, and pulled out the package of meat that he had carefully wrapped in oak leaves, and tied with twine. Next, he pulled out the little bundles of spice, then from the small pocket lined with cotton came a slender branch with plump, bright blue, cheerful looking berries.
“The last Ammon berries of the season!” Ammon said, cheerfully, gesturing to the branch. Ammon had been named after Ammon berries, which were just coming into season when he was born.
“Ammon, where were you? I looked for you in the forest, but you weren’t there, and so I went all around the edge of the forest, and you weren’t there, either!” Jayk cried, jumping up to clasp hands and thump his brother on the back.
Ammon was the closest to Jaren in looks, personality, and age. Both had slender faces, straight noses, slim hands, and broad shoulders. And as the two faced each other, smiles on both of their faces, it struck Rose just how alike they really were.
Was that a bad thing?
She realized that, yes, it was a bad thing. It could be deadly.