BlueBeard
Once upon a time, there was a small town on the coast of France, ruled over by a mysterious Baron. He was a man of great wealth personal power, said to be a mighty influence within the court of the King. Yet, wherever he went, he was marked by his single distinguishing feature – an enormous beard, as thick and full as a bush, and as blue as the deep ocean's depths.
His subjects held him in awe, and showed their respect with deep bows as he passed them, but there was always an undercurrent of fear in their glances, and whispers swarmed like locust wherever he rode.
For the Baron had lived for many years, and in that time had seven different wives, few of which lasted longer than a year before mysteriously disappearing. The townspeople muttered to themselves why that was; in the darkness of the night, rumours of human sacrifice leapt from lip to lip, whispers of demonic pacts and evil deeds not spoken of beneath the light of day. They said the blue of his beard was the mark of his master, the sign of a man cursed, who brought evil wherever he trod.
Then, one one bright and sunny summer afternoon, the man himself returned from one of his many trips to the capital. Stepping down from his coach into the crowded market square, the people around him pulled back, so that he stood alone. But one among them, a young woman barely out of her teens was racing by, and failed to notice the change in the crowds demeanour.
Pushing her way through, she burst out of the throng, and stumbled to a stop directly in from of Him. Looking at him, her eyes wide with surprise, her face flushed with exertion, the Baron felt his heart stop in his chest. Wisps of auburn hair had escaped the braid at her back and formed a halo around her delicate features, while her plain clothes served only to enhance her most feminine form.
Staring at this perfect vision that had appeared in front of him, the man said the only thing he could think of, the only thought on his mind.. "My Lady, will you marry me?"
The young woman, smart and strong in her own will, was caught up in the purity of his gaze. The strength of his longing cut her to the quick, and she felt her skin tingle as if touch by fire. She, too, knew there was only one thing she could say.
"Yes."
OoOoO
The days passed, and became weeks; the weeks turned into months. After the wonders of their wedding day – an enormous affair, that occupied the entire town for days – and the greater wonders of the wedding night, they settled into a kind of tranquil domesticity.
Each day, the man would greet his wife, and ask her "Do you love me?" and she would reply, "More than life itself."
Each night, the woman would greet her husband, and ask him, "Do you love me?" and he would reply, "With all my heart and with all my soul."
Then, alas, the time came, as they knew it would. The affairs of court could not be left so long unattended, and and urgent summons came, requiring the Baron to leave immediately. As he departed, he gave to his wife the keys to their keep, explaining as swiftly as he could what each of them were for, which he had not yet had time to introduce her to himself. Then, he came to the final key. A small, silver one, unadorned. And he held her hands fast, looked deep in her eyes, and warned her, "This key opens the smallest room in the deepest dungeon, and you must never go there. Promise me, swear on your life, by all your love for me, that you will leave that room alone."
Faithfully, the woman swore. She would not go there.
OoOoO
Time past. The baron had been gone more than a week, and his wife found the hours hanging heavy on her hands. Without her love to occupy her time, she set about exploring, and at length had visited every part of his great castle, seen inside every room – every room but one.
She told herself she would not look inside. She reminded herself that she had sworn, she had promised him, with all the weight of her heart.
Another week passed, and her curiosity became too much. Unable to resist, she sought out the smallest room in the deepest dungeon. Hesitantly, her guilt growing by the second, she nevertheless took her courage and curiosity in hand and opened the door.
Horror greeted her. The floor awash in a pool of blood, the air reeking with the stench of evisceration, she gasped in shock and let the precious silver key tumble to the floor. Around here were corpses, hanging from the walls, from the roof, gutted, cut, tormented... Seven corpses. Seven female corpses.
Swiftly scooping the little key from the blood pooling at her feet, she slammed the door, turned the key with trembling hands, and ran, back to her own chambers, where she locked herself in her bathing room, and tried to with soap and water to cleanse her memory of that terrible place.
The blood washed off her hands.
It did not wash off the key.
Her maids found here there the next day, curled in a corner of her bedroom, clutching the key to her chest and crying. Not knowing what to do, they sent for her sister, a woman two years older than her named Adele.
When Adele arrived, the young woman collapsed in her arms, and gasped out the whole terrible story. Equally shocked and horrified, Adele reassured her; they would flee the Baron's keep, escape together. Adele's husband was a woodcutter, a man with strong arms, and he would protect them.
But the young woman could only shake her head and sob, too overcome to act. And then, news; Her maid came in, to inform them that the Baron would shortly be arriving. His carriage had reached the city gates, and he was no doubt eager to see his wife.
Seeing that there was no way she could convince her sister to travel in her current state, Adele resolved there was only one thing to do. She would find her husband, he would come, with his axe and his sword, and rescue her sister.
OoOoO
When the Baron arrived, he found his wife awaiting him. Her eyes red with weeping, the salt of her tears still staining her perfect cheeks, and he rushed to reach her. "What has happened, my love?" the Baron asked, terrified at what might have befallen her.
Slowly, her limbs quivering with fear, the young women knelt before him, raising up to his sight the small, silver key. The key still stained with blood, that would neither be cleansed nor covered. The key that was the symbol of her guilt... and His.
The Baron looked down at it, and his expression of fear cleared, replaced with one of great sorrow, giving way to terrible rage. "How could you?" He asked her, "You swore upon your love for me! How could you betray me like this?"
She did not reply. The Baron drew his sword, and advanced upon her. Then, standing over her motionless form, as he raised his arm, prepared to end her life, she looked up at him. Her clear eyes captivating him, the beauty of her spirit shining through, just as it had the first time they met. Just as it had every day they had been together since then.
"I love you," she said. "And on the day we married, I swore to you my love... and my obedience. I have dishonoured my vow, and shamed my love for you. My life is yours, do with me as you will."
Slowly, the Baron nodded. Slowly, he raised his sword. She prepared herself for death, never looking away from the man she loved. The man she still loved, even having seen what she had seen. The man she loved more than life itself, whom she would rather die than live without.
Suddenly, the Baron turned. There was a great clash of steel upon steel; Adele's husband had arrived! Their swords met in a flurry of sparks, trading blows as they danced back and forth across the courtyard. In moments, the woodcutter had an advantage – he was young and filled with rage, while the Baron was far older, and tired from his journey.
Gradually the woodcutter gained ground. Drawing closer and closer to that final, fatal blow. The young woman could see it; she saw when he slashed, when the Baron blocked too low, when the woodcutter draw back his arm to end the fight – and her husband's life.
Without hesitation, she threw herself between them. Unable to stop his blade in time, the woodcutter stared in horror as the sword cut deep into her side; as the young woman fell to the ground, blood staining her lips, as she looked up at the man she gladly gave her life for, and whispered "I Love You..."
Seeing his love mortally wounded the Baron leapt to his feet, his sword arm swinging with the strength of a dozen devils, the glint of madness in his eye. Back, back he forced the woodcutter, back to the wall, and there ran him through. The bright blade plunged deep into his chest, and his hearts blood sprayed through the air.
With a roared in cantation in an alien tongue, the Baron waved his hands before him. Drawing forth the blood from the woodcutter, he held it as a glowing orb before him, and carried it across to his wife. "With his death, I grant you life" the Baron whispered. Touching his hand to her chest, he spoke the final phrase of the spell, and the essence of the woodcutter disappeared into her, erasing all sign of her wound.
Looking up at the Baron in amazement, she was startled to see tears in his eyes. "I love you still" he said, gently stroking a finger down her cheek, "though you have betrayed me once, you yet stood by my side. Your punishment for betrayal was death, which you have received. Your reward for your loyalty is life, which I give you now. Be free, my love, and go where you will."
"No," she said, "for it would not be life without you. No matter what you have done, no matter what you do, I want nothing but to be by your side."
At last, the man smiled, his heart overflowing with love, and relief that he had found a woman who would love him back – love every part of him, the good and the bad. So he leaned down, and she leaned up, and their lips touched with a passion to match that of any they had ever felt before.
And they lived happily ever after, the wizard and his wife, for many long years after that, until... But that is another story, for another time.
And as for the sister, Adele? She was driven quite mad by the loss of her husband, and dedicated the remainder of her life to the destruction of the Baron. A life which was tragically cut short, not by the Baron's sorcererous power, or even by his sword, but by a common thief, who cut her throat for the gown she was wearing.