People assume he wanted to roast and devour my firstborn. The truth is less sinister.
After my father, with his drunken boasting, sold me for a farthing, I called to the old elf. It was I who taught him to spin gold from mere breath; in exchange, he would hide away my future child.
The guards caught him before he could escape with the babe, and we were all forced back into playing our respective parts – he the guileful trickster, I the dutiful queen, my child the charming princess.
I felt our freedom vanish as I spoke his name aloud.
100 word stories. Post all you like, maybe we'll dip in and use yours?
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