This, she thought with a wince, might really be the worst of the things she had to hold against her parents about this whole process. She experimentally took a hand away from one ear just in time to hear a particularly off note be followed by a sharp twang and a startled squawk. Broken lute string? She had given up hoping that would shut him up.
The tower thing was ridiculous all around, and she had plenty of things to say about the arrangements for her so-called comfort if she ever got the chance. She was beyond sick of looking at the walls in here and so bored that nearly anything would have been an improvement. But this?
The prince started in on his tone-deaf love song again with renewed vigor, and she banged her forehead against the cold stone wall. What was it going to take for him to get that she wasn’t interested? Okay, obviously she didn’t have a lot of options, but seriously. She’d heard sea lions sing better than this. And his escape plan? Let down your hair her overprotective father’s ass. Was he out of his mind? How long did he think her hair was? It wasn’t just contrary to sense, it was contrary to the laws of physics. He was heavier than she was, for God’s sake. She couldn’t see any ending to that story that didn’t involve her getting yanked right out the window and possibly losing most of her hair to boot.
“Shut UP!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, to no effect. Never. Never in a million years. Even the tower was better than that. Eventually, he’d go away. He’d have to.
Besides, the thief with the wicked eyebrows had promised he’d be back at midnight with two horses and a grappling hook.
This week’s Write at the Merge prompt at Write On Edge gave us a photo of Bancroft Tower in Worcester, MA, and a French phrase (“la douleur exquise”) referring to the pain of unrequited love. So, this week, I took a few liberties with Rapunzel. Thanks for reading!