Beta'ed by the lovely nibblesfan. Errors are mine because I couldn't stop editing.

Once upon a time, there was a king who sat on a golden throne. In spite of his wrath, he was a well-respected king for his rectitude far exceeded his temper. His name, Rumpelstiltskin, was as silly as his pink castle and he had all the wealth the world could offer and more. Even though he amassed a fortune, the king was a very lonely man—broken in body and soul. His queen had eloped with a passing sailor and his heir, the only light in his life, succumbed to sickness. With his child's passing, the king gave in to his grief.

In his dark and dreary room, Rumpelstiltskin spent his days and nights in isolation. On the ninth day of his seclusion, a spiteful fairy called Mathilda visited the king, whispering promises of alleviating his pain. Desperate for release from his agony the king believed the fairy's words, in exchange, he gave her his soul.

Without his soul, the once just king became ruthless; coupled with his temper, his subjects lived in fear. Harsh punishments awaited transgressors regardless of the offence severity and taxes weighed heavily on his subjects. Despite the many protestations, the people's voice fell on deaf ears.

Unknowing to the king, every cruel deed twisted his soul, which became the fairy's sustenance as long as he lived. The corrupted soul gave Mathilda her powers and longevity, successively altering Rumpelstiltskin's appearance. His smooth, pink skin turned into rough, green scales littered with specks of gold. Brown eyes became golden-green and there were fangs in place of teeth. The king gave no thoughts to these changes. You could even say he relished in them as they struck fear in others.

Under the king's iron fist rule, unrest grew, instigating plots to overthrow him. The rebels however, were no match for the combined cunningness of the fairy and their king. The pair was quick in squelching the rebellion and driving rebels out of their den. Torture and execution awaited these fugitives including those who aided them. Fearing another uprising that threatened her life source, the fairy kept an ever-watchful eye on the kingdom through her hand mirror. It would glow green at the slightest sign of a threat.

Living in fear of him, his people became submissive, abandoning their revolt and hope. As the insurgents declined, the kingdom started to stabilise. Assured of their obedience, Rumpelstiltskin began the next phase of his rule—expanding his kingdom. Gradually, the fairy became lax in her vigilance. This was why she kept her mirror hidden in her trunk of treasures. This why she did not know an auburn-haired beauty would break her dominion.

Rumpelstiltskin's strict and unconventional rule, earned him the title 'The Mad King'. Despite this moniker and the questionable state of his mind, the kingdom prospered and became a trading hub for textiles and slavery.

The eccentric king clothed himself in rich robes and paraded his wealth to neighbouring kingdoms. Envious of his blossoming economy, monarchies scampered to be his allies. Rumpelstiltskin, however, only made deals with desperate territories. Hefty rewards were promised should their deal come through. Blinded by greed, not many saw through the Mad King's designs. Even fewer saw his gratification at orchestrating events leading to the non-fulfilment of a contract. As a consequence, kingdoms and trade routes fell onto his lap.

As Rumpelstiltskin's influence expanded, his domain served as an entrepôt for much of the commerce between two major ports. Tradesmen brought languages and cultures, leaving locals little choice but to learn them in order to survive in the dog-eat-dog world. Opportunists would leave trails of scavengers just for a chance to climb the business ladder.

Among these colourful people was a company of touring performers. They brought with them theatrical acts that narrates the story of a puppet king. An auburn-haired storyteller travelled with them. Her name was Belle, aptly named for one as beautiful as the northern lights and as kind as summer. You could always find her sitting under an old oak tree, spinning tales of heroics and adventures to her eager little listeners.

Words of the performers' acts reached the king and roused his curiosity. It was the day after hearing the news that Rumpelstiltskin decided to investigate if the act was as impressive as claimed. He sat among the common people under the guise of a pauper in the enclosed space, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the odour in the cramped space. Cheers exploded from the audience when the ringmaster and his company burst forth from behind the stage curtains. After introducing themselves, drum rolls shook the air and the tent was basked in darkness, indicating the start of the show.

The performance was full of grandeur as claimed and Rumpelstiltskin found himself enjoying the story of the puppet king. But that was not to say he was ignorant; he knew it was a depiction of him. He wasn't deaf and was definitely not stupid. He knew of the whispers on the streets. Many believed Mathilda had him wrapped around her fingers, making him do her bidding. Words were he accumulated power and wealth to win her heart. What a foolish notion. He would rather lose part of his power than bed the harpy. When the show ended, the king thought such blatant disrespect toward a sovereign needed a punishment of equal measure. Fools who thought he was blinded by their disguises deserved a fool's death.

Three days later the king decreed the ringmaster and his performing entourage to be stringed and dressed like puppets in his court—they were to act out a battle scene with real arms. The stringed company buckled to their knees, begging for mercy. Ignoring their cries, the king commanded them to pick their weapon of choice.

The performers were forcibly dragged to the front of the court by the ropes tied to their limbs; varieties of weapon lay scattered at their feet. Thick silence pressed upon those present at court as they witnessed the performers chose their arms with heavy limbs. Blood would paint the castle's floor had the storyteller not prostrated herself in front of the king and begged for forgiveness.

"I beg your leniency, Your Majesty. I offer you my ability to bring stories and creatures to life if you were to spare my people," implored the storyteller. The king's attention perked up at her confession. "I can create dragons, ogres, and more. Release them and I am yours to command."

Rumpelstiltskin sat upright on his throne and steepled his fingers; his face was the mask of indifference. He had heard of people with such gifts, Echidna they were called, but thought they were none left in existence. In his folly, he sent ships to the farthest corners of the world in search for them, but all returned empty handed. The woman before him, however, claimed otherwise. The king cocked his head and pondered his options. Heavy stillness reigned over the court and time seemed to stand still.

Helplessness and fear cloaked the storyteller as she heard the king's approach. The slow and deliberate clacking of his heels on the marble floor sent shudders down her spine. She could feel the pinprick feeling of his eyes roaming over her prostrated form as he circled her. The stillness was deafening and she prayed the king would believe her words.

The king circled her a few times more before stopping somewhere to her right. The sound of scampering feet followed his order to bring him a collar. He then called for her to rise when presented with it.

"There, you are my slave now," the king said loudly after securing the collar around her neck. Enslavement, such was the price for the power of creation. "Prove to me that you are not lying. Conjure me a creature as black as the night. One that can perform the foulest of spells and destroys kingdoms and dragons," he said with a dramatic flair of his hands.

Leaning in further than necessary, the king whispered in her ear, "Storyteller, I command you to bring forth the legendary Dark One or your precious lambs pay the price."

Bound to the king, the storyteller did as commanded.