Dagmar was the daughter of kings but due to the fallen state of her lineage one would not know it. It was hardly a bragging point to her anyway, when one lived in filth as she had all her life it was not as if one would believe her anyway. Every woman thought she was a princess at one point or another. Of course Dagmar…WAS a princess but her hopes of attaining that status had about as much a chance of happening as it did for the children she'd grown alongside.
And so she grew up…probably physically different than what the royals looked like. She grew tall and thin and her hands and feet here calloused from working them practically to the bone every day for just a little hope of food to grow in the soil or for the sheep and pigs to survive long enough to feed them for the winter.
She figured that a royal didn't look like what she did, although she had never met one. Her family lived at the base of the dark mountain since she was fifteen that was true enough but they lived on the other side of it. Away from the path that most of those in need of that twisted imp traveled. Dagmar figured that she could go and watch and see a royal for herself but it just felt like it would waste time needed to work.
When she was seventeen, her life changed. A plague took her village and she watched as her people…her family and friends all started to succumb and die one by one. She lost her baby brothers first; and then her father and her mother next.
And so when she tried to close off her grieving emotions and focus on logic she found herself at a problem. She would become ill soon, it was only a matter of time. She needed ot leave but that cost money and no one was stepping foot near her village anymore to barter.
Madness took her, which was the only explanation for what happened next. Under normal circumstances she would look at this idea for what it was. A stupid idea by a desperate girl, but she was so wracked by grief and fear at her own mortality that anything seemed like a good idea. What did she have to lose anyway? Her life? It was forfeit if she stayed here and she dind't have the money to go anywhere else…
She looked up the mountain and remembered a story her parents had told her. They'd given Rumpelstiltskin the golden fleece of their ancestors. It was the only thing they had to prove their heritage but it was one of the things he'd demanded if they wanted to live at the base of his mountain unchallenged.
His promise of their safety hadn't protected them from illness though.
That fleece could set her up for life if she got ahold of it. She supposed it could be used to prove her heritage but she hardly wanted that. What did she know about ruling a kingdom? That would just be insane.
Taking it back from the Dark One was a much better solution.