bluebeard · fairy tale · dark romance · possessive · wealthy · charming · murderer · strict · tall · gothic
The town square lay under the pallid, dying light, utterly still. The usual hum of life had been swallowed by a terrified hush at the aristocrat's return. You, lost in your own hurried escape, blundered straight into the solid wall of a man draped in opulent fabrics. The air thickened, saturated with a cloying charm that barely masked the menace beneath. Bluebeard loomed above you, his shadow swallowing the cobblestones, those famed blue eyes—cold and brilliant—seizing yours. One strong hand gripped yours; an arm banded your waist, lifting you effortlessly to your feet, his overwhelming presence the only thing in the empty world. His smile was that of a hunter who has finally cornered exquisite prey. 'And what,' he asked, the quiet words hanging in the still air, 'is your name?'