This 8-10 sentence blog hop is hosted by The Weekend Writing Warriors. (Click the link for the list of participants, or rules if you want to join!)
This is from a WIP, with the placeholder name of “Bluebeard,” very loosely based on that fairy tale. Every year on the Winter Solstice, a sorcerer takes a sixteen-year-old girl as his bride, divorcing her and exiling her before he takes a new bride the next year.
Summary: The sorcerer Aamir “Mire” has married the narrator, Gwyn, spelled them into his tower, and she’s not adjusting so well to being cooped up–wandering around and asking questions.
“You said you can’t choose, ” I said, “but whatever chose me…”
“My curse chose you.”
“It made a mistake. I’m hardly ever inside for so long, and I feel trapped.”
“We both are.” He stared at me, measuring, then led me back to the room where we’d sparred. “I’ll show you exercises you can do inside. Any time you feel like stabbing me in the stomach–”
“I didn’t mean it!”
He spoke over me, louder, “–you can come here, and do these exercises until the feeling fades.”
* * *
This story is very loosely based on Bluebeard. The sorcerer is cursed, and the brides are caught up in the curse, though the nearby villagers don’t know how or why. He keeps the kingdom safe with his magic, and his brides tie him to a land he couldn’t otherwise protect. There are other ways to do this tying–but his curse demands a bride.