The Girl’s coat was soaked with blood, crimson and cool to the touch, and it draped heavily over her shoulders as she pulled the hood above her snow white hair, letting the smell of smoke envelop her as bits of flesh tangled in her hair like a flea caught in a web. She turned around to find the prince, staring at his future wife with wide eyes. She cut him down. 

-----

The Queen softly tugged on The Girl’s hair, pinning the thin braids around her head in a crownlike fashion, as The Girl knelt in the throne room before The Queen. “There. Perfect.” The Queen’s cold fingers left her hair, and The Girl smiled sweetly. “What did you wish to speak to me about?” she asked, standing and bowing curtly. 

“The prince wants your hand in marriage. He will be visiting the seven prophets to discuss the matter with them. Maybe then you can have a name” The Queen smirked. The Girl’s eyes were sharp, but her body relaxed. The prince, though painted nicely and framed well in a portrait, did his best work following orders from fake prophets and queens, and would need a protector, even if she came in the form of a wife. 

“Yes, your honor.” The Queen’s finger dug into her shoulders, hot breath on The Girl’s ear as she whispered in an ancient tongue, “Tomaya los renes.” The Girl picked up a goblet, filling it with wine, and handed it to The Queen as she left. 

The Girl knew her job. Kill the prophets, kill the prince, serve the Queen. The people loved their Queen, for she brought wealth to the kingdom through her ruthless reign. The Girl didn’t understand love. She didn’t understand loyalty or greed, but only the dance of battle, the clean cut of flesh and the kick of holding a knife to the jumping veins in men’s throats. Life was so fickle, so easily lost. In a kingdom where everyone was loved, only The Girl was denied a name. An assassin wasn’t respectable.

The Girl left the throne room, walking along a meandering river that led into the forest. The forest sang in excitement, waiting for the free meal coming their way, fleas buzzing as she walked, one with the forest. She slid into a cave nestled in the green marsh next to the river. Seven dwarves lived inside, the prophets, the magical creatures that governed most of the Queen’s decisions. In reality, they held no power, no magic other than rebirth after death. 

The cave was damp, and smelt of decay. A twig cracked behind her. “Sup, Snow White,” Silly, one of the dwarves said as she turned around to him juggling a dagger, an apple and a stick with one end on fire. Snow White. Her heart was anything but. 

“Our plan is in action. Lore forma matali. The Queen's words, not mine. Kill the prince.” All the color drained from Silly’s face. “Relax, we’ll make you The Queen’s advisors. You can work under me,” The Girl said with a wolfish smile. 

“I- but- we cannot- he’s the prince! I didn’t know about any assassination!” Good samaritans like him were going to be the death of her. Even power couldn’t corrupt them. The Girl lunged and snapped his neck. The dagger he juggled impaled the apple and the stick set Silly on fire. Silly indeed. Footsteps sounded behind her, and the rest of the pack of dwarves stared at her in horror. Minutes later, they were gone as well, daggers having sliced their throats. The Girl threw their bodies in the river, and the hut burned. No matter. The roots would grow and trees would bend to create another hut. The forest was still alive, its hunger satisfied. The Queen’s wine should have killed her by now. Tomaya los renes. You are nothing. 

The Girl’s coat was soaked with blood, crimson and cool to the touch, and it draped heavily over her shoulders as she pulled the hood above her snow white hair, letting the smell of smoke envelop her as bits of flesh tangled in her hair like a flea caught in a web. She turned around to find the prince, staring at his future wife with wide eyes. She cut him down.