The Cursed Chronicles: The Hope Diamond & Rumple’s Unfortunate Heist
The Immortal Gazette’s dimly lit studio buzzed with mischief. Alice lounged on the velvet couch, sipping shimmering enchanted tea. Loki kicked back, feet casually propped on an ancient tome that he most definitely wasn’t supposed to use as a footrest. Rumplestiltskin paced dramatically before them, his golden-threaded coat swishing with every exaggerated movement.
Alice crossed one booted leg over the other and flipped through her notes. “Alright, folks, let’s dive into one of the most infamous gemstones in history—the Hope Diamond. 45.52 carats of deep blue misfortune.”
Loki smirked. “So, it's the gemstone equivalent of Rumple?”
Rumple, who had been twirling a golden quill, shot him a glare. “Ha-ha, very funny. But you’re not wrong about the curse.” He paused, darkly. “This thing has a horrible track record.”
Alice nodded. “The story kicks off in the 1600s, when a French gem dealer named Jean-Baptiste Tavernier acquired a large blue diamond from India—allegedly stolen from the eye of a Hindu idol. Legend says that the moment it was taken, the curse was born.”
Loki leaned back. “Stealing from a deity? Yeah, nothing screams 'good luck' like that.”
Alice grinned. “Exactly. Tavernier sold it to King Louis XIV in 1668. The king had it cut into the dazzling 67.125-carat gem known as the French Blue. He loved showing it off at court—but, naturally, things didn’t end well for him. Tavernier met a gruesome end, either torn apart by wild dogs or fading into misfortune.”
Rumple wagged a finger. “And let’s not forget Louis XIV’s heirs—dying of disease. Then came Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette... well, we all know how that turned out.”
Loki mimed a guillotine motion across his throat. “Oops.”
Alice smirked. “Indeed. The diamond disappeared during the French Revolution, only to reappear in London years later, further cut down to the 45.52-carat Hope Diamond we know today.”
Loki raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess—more misery?”
Rumple grinned. “Oh, so much more.”
Alice nodded. “It passed to Henry Philip Hope, giving it the name we know today, and then to his family. What followed? Financial ruin. After that, it bounced to Pierre Cartier, who cleverly used its cursed reputation to sell it to a wealthy socialite, Evelyn Walsh McLean.”
Loki chuckled. “And did she believe in the curse?”
Alice shook her head. “Not at first. She even let her dog wear it.”
Rumple winced. “That poor dog probably had better luck than she did. Her son died, her husband ran off, she lost her fortune, and she died alone.”
Loki took a slow sip of his drink. “Sounds about right.”
Alice continued, “After her death, the diamond was sold again and eventually donated to the Smithsonian Museum by Harry Winston in 1958. He mailed it—literally—in a plain brown paper-wrapped box.”
Loki snorted. “The most cursed diamond in the world, just shipped through the postal service.”
Rumple waved a hand. “Better the museum than another fool thinking they can cheat fate.”
Alice nodded. “And since it's been at the Smithsonian, miraculously, no major disasters have been linked to it.”
Loki smirked. “I’m sure someone has stubbed a toe near it.”
Alice shrugged. “Maybe. But officially, the Hope Diamond seems stable—for now.”
She turned to Rumple, who was grinning smugly, fingers steepled. “And this is the part where you insist you had your own ‘curse moment’ or something crazy with the Hope Diamond, right?”
Rumple placed a hand over his heart, feigning deep offense. “Madam, I do not insist—I proclaim!”
Alice smirked. “Oh, this should be good…”
“OK, so listen,” Rumple began dramatically. “The Hope Diamond is not just a fancy rock. It’s a malevolent entity! And I would know—I once stole it.”
Alice nearly spat out her tea. “Oh, here we go. Another one of Rumple’s Greatest Hits.”
Loki smirked. “This should be rich. What happened this time? You got turned into a goat? Lost in an interdimensional sock drawer?”
Rumple scowled. “No! This was worse!” He took a deep breath and went on. “It was the early 1900s, in Washington D.C. The Hope Diamond was still in the hands of the McLean family, ripe for the taking. Naturally, I worked my magic, snuck into their mansion, and snatched it right out of the display case.”
Loki nodded. “And then?”
Rumple’s face darkened. “Then... it cursed me.”
Alice smirked. “Oh, how convenient.”
“I’m serious!” Rumple snapped. “The moment I grabbed that cursed thing, I felt this... strange energy coursing through me. I thought I had bested the curse—until I looked in a mirror and saw that I had been transformed…”
Alice leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Into?”
Rumple exhaled sharply. “A frog.”
Loki lost it. He howled with laughter, slapping his knee. “A frog?! You expect us to believe that the Hope Diamond turned you into a frog?”
Rumple’s face turned the color of a freshly picked tomato. “Yes! A frog! And not just any frog—I was hideous! Warty, slimy, croaking in the most undignified manner.”
Alice wiped a tear from her eye. “So, you just hopped around Washington croaking ‘woe is me’?”
Rumple crossed his arms. “I had to bribe a witch to turn me back! And let me tell you, it wasn’t cheap! I barely escaped before the McLeans woke up and noticed the theft!”
Loki shook his head. “Ah yes, the famous McLean Frog Scandal. History will never forget.”
Alice smirked. “Rumple, I swear, this might be your best nonsense story yet.”
Rumple stomped his foot. “IT IS NOT NONSENSE! I HAVE LIVED THIS CURSE!”
Alice patted his arm. “Of course you have, dear. Next, you’ll tell us you once stole the Mona Lisa and it whispered secrets to you.”
Rumple scoffed. “Oh, please. That’s just a painting.”
Loki chuckled. “Right. And a giant blue diamond turned you into a frog." He glanced over at Alice, "Alice stop giving him story ideas!”
Rumple threw his hands up. “You two are impossible! I am never telling you anything ever again!” He stormed off, muttering something about the ungratefulness of skeptics and the perils of genius being misunderstood.
Alice and Loki exchanged a glance, then burst into laughter, soon joined by the entire Immortal Gazette Studio crew. And so, the chaos continued—endless jokes, clinking mugs, and impromptu debates over the most ridiculous topics, all set against the backdrop of enchanted typewriters and glowing lanterns.
And as the laughter faded into the night, one thing was certain: the stories, the drama, and the immortal chaos were far from over. Stay tuned for more adventures from the Immortal Gazette, where every headline is just the beginning of something wild.
🖋️✨📜🖤
