Once Upon A Time: Hook's Adopted Son (Book 1)

Desperate Souls

(Enchanted Forest)

The man known as Rumplestiltskin hadn't always been the malevolent Dark One. Once, he was simply a man: a spinster, a father, and a soul trying to survive in a merciless world. Life in the Enchanted Forest had always been a cruel tapestry of toil and terror, but the Ogre Wars cast an especially long shadow over the land. Rumplestiltskin's life was irrevocably marked by those dark times and his decisions in the name of love and fear.

Years before his name became synonymous with dread, Rumplestiltskin had fought in the Ogre Wars. However, his time on the battlefield was brief and ignominious. Fear had overtaken him, and in his panic, he injured his own leg to escape the carnage. That moment of cowardice branded him a cripple and a deserter, but to him, it was a necessary act to remain by the side of his son, Baelfire. Yet, his actions, or lack thereof drove a wedge between him and his wife, Milla, who abandoned their family, unable to forgive his perceived weakness. He made a promise to Baelfire that he would never abandon him.

Left alone with Baelfire, Rumplestiltskin found solace in the repetitive rhythm of his spinning wheel. It was the one thing that remained steady in a world spiraling out of control. The Ogre Wars worsened with every passing day, and the Duke's army grew increasingly desperate. They began conscripting children from every village to replenish their forces, lowering the age limit with each decree. The youngest and strongest were ripped from their families to face the horrors of war. Any attempts by parents to resist were crushed, often brutally, by the Duke's enforcer: the dreaded Dark One.

One morning, as the faint light of dawn seeped through the thin canvas of their tent, Rumplestiltskin sat hunched over his spinning wheel. The soft whirring of the spindle was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps and the flap of the tent being thrown open. "Papa! Papa!" Baelfire's voice cracked with urgency. "They've come for Morraine!"

Rumplestiltskin's heart sank. Grabbing his cane, he rose unsteadily to his feet. Together, father and son hurried outside, the cold morning air biting against their skin. In the village square, a scene of devastation was unfolding. Morraine's parents clung desperately to their daughter as the Duke's knights prepared to take her away. The family's cries echoed through the village, a haunting symphony of grief and desperation. "No! No! Please!" Morraine's father begged, his voice cracking with emotion.

Her mother sobbed uncontrollably, clinging to her child. "She's just a baby! Don't take my baby!"

The knight in charge, Hordor, remained unmoved. "Nonsense. She is a fine, strong girl," he said coldly. "She'll make a fine soldier."

"It's a mistake!" Morraine's father cried. "She's only fourteen!"

Hordor sneered. "At the orders of the Duke! The Ogre Wars have taken their toll this season. More troops will turn the tide."

Baelfire clutched his father's arm. "They lowered the age again, Papa."

Rumplestiltskin's grip tightened on his cane as his mind raced. "I know," he murmured, his voice heavy with dread.

"Take her," Hordor ordered. "She'll ride with me."

"No!" Morraine's parents screamed in unison.

Her mother, overcome with anguish, lunged at Hordor with a knife. Before she could strike, the air around her shimmered ominously. A sickening, choking sound followed as invisible magic clamped down on her throat. Her husband suffered the same fate, his pleas cut off as he struggled against an unseen force. Hordor's expression didn't waver. "The Dark One seems to think I can," he said with a cruel smirk as he hoisted Morraine onto his horse.