(pretend she has blue eyes)

"Again! From the top!"

    The room filled with soft shuffling as the students listened to their master and went into position, ready to start the sequence over again. They had lost count of how many times they had done this, but no one was complaining. They had to get it right, no matter how long it took.

    "One, two, three. Dip. Turn. Dip. Again," chanted the instructor as he lead them through their lesson. He had been the third one that month, hopefully, he will prove himself worthy to stay.

    Queen Grimhilde watched them from the other side of the two way mirror as they practiced. She leaned on her elbow on her armrest, resting her chin on her hand. She smiled as the instructor yelled at them.

    "No! Lower, LOWER! Do you want to look like a fool in front of the queen! Keep your arms strong and your legs bent when you come up the second time." The instructor pinched his nose, speaking with his eyes closed. "Your majesty, might I ask for your daughter? I am in need of someone who knows what they are doing." He glowered at his pupils, making them shrink back despite their rigorous discipline.

    The Queen straightened and raised a brow, slightly taken off guard by the instructor knowing she was watching. With a long finger, she reached forward and pressed a button opening a side door panel inside the practice room. All the pupils turned and watched as a fairly small but quite striking young woman stepped into the room.

    A sharp pang of jealousy rippled through The Queen as she watched everyone's reaction to her stepdaughter's entrance. With short cropped black hair that curled at her cheeks, lips the color of a freshly picked apple, eyes cold and sharp as midwinter icicles, and skin as white as snow, Scar White was no doubt the most beautiful woman in all the land.

    However, though her envious feelings were wholeheartedly justified, Grimhilde suppressed them. There was no point in getting all worked up over something she could not change. Even the large scar that wrapped around Scar's neck, all puckered and pink didn't dissuade her title of Fairest of Them All. So The Queen had to resolve in taking credit for the training and talent her precious stepdaughter had.

After all, Scar was her best assassin. It would be unwise for The Queen to lose her best asset over something so little as appearance.

The instructor smiled reverently, bowing as he swept his arms out to the class. "M'Lady, we are honored to have you with us. Might I ask a favor of you?" Without waiting for an answer from the A class assassin, a bold move no doubt, he went on, "It seems as though these pupils of mine are having a hard time grasping the concept of fluidity. Would you be so kind as to show them sequence 4, please?"

Scar didn't move as she judged this mentor with half laden eyes, her shoulders stiff and gaze tired. But with one swift movement, she reached behind her back and pulled out two blue glowing daggers, each the length of her forearm and square in shape. The young students looked on with awe as the room lit up with projected enemies, their flickering forms moving about the room with calculated programming.

However, Scar had trained in this room for the majority of her childhood and had memorized each and every sequence. With practiced ease combined that with natural talent, Scar showed them the correct way to take down a heavily armored guard twice her size. The holograms flickered off and Scar stood, not a hair on her head misplaced, her breath not at all winded.

The Queen couldn't help but smile as she leaned back, her pride in seeing her magnificent potential at such a young age reminding her why it was such a good job to keep Scar after her father died when she was just seven years old. Grimhilde thought her too old to start training but after seeing her best childhood friend in playacting sword fights, she knew it was either now or never to start the girl in combat training. And not too late as it seemed. Scar hardened year after year and quickly turned into one of the most proficient students in the Peacekeepers program.

But Scar was not to be used for peacekeeping in the way that her father meant when he started the program after her mother died in the most unfortunate accident involving an invading army and unprepared guards taken out by stealthy warriors.

Not that The Queen had anything to do with it when she too was recovering from an attack from those same men. That was when the King decided to join forces with what she had left of an army and take them down.

It was not her fault the King wished to marry her forthwith and to the surprise of the kingdom. But Grimhilde did not complain. Not until he died of fever leaving her not only in charge of a land who did not recognize her leadership but as the lone mother of a child who refused to call her 'mother'. Irony befell the child when she learned to not see Grimhilde as mother but forever as her Queen and sole target to protect.

Therefore, watching Scar perform her duties with nothing more than a solidary blink, her beauty soon became more of an afterthought to what the Queen knew what she was capable of.

The instructor clapped, nodding with impressed enthusiasm, his eyes looking her up and down. "Not a single move wrongly executed, though dated, could be seen. I hope you all were taking notes. This is why we never judge a book by its cover."

The room went silent, even the breathing from the students stopped cold. The Queen raised a brow as she watched Scar turn slowly, her blades poised at her side, steady and ready to strike. But she only started her head moving to the side slightly.

"If you have something new to teach me, instructor, I trust you would be eager to do so."

Scar's voice was light, almost fairy-like, but it did not bounce off the walls with elegant grace, but instead bore into the ears and hearts of those listening, leaving no room for question that she was indeed a powerful woman.

The Queen smiled ruefully at the lack of color present in the shaking man's face. His tall figure, though muscled and evident of years of hard work, cowered before the five-three woman, his eyes darting to the mirror behind her, right at the queen. But Grimhilde did nothing but call for a drink, her body relaxing in her chair as she enjoyed the show.

"I...I meant no disrespect, M'lady. Some things have changed since you were last here and your methods, though different, are flawless."

The Queen couldn't see Scar's face but she assumed the young woman was sneering.

"I believe it is then time that those methods were updated, don't you agree?"

"If that is what you wish, M'lady." The instructor bowed, his hair falling into his face, his knees shaking and his voice barely holding together.

But, if past experiences were of any consequence, this was not going to be a forgiving lesson.

Grimhilde nearly giggled, as old as she was, as she watched Scar slowly turn her upper body, her icy gaze peering into the glass and right into The Queen's eyes. She would have shivered had she not been so convinced Scar could see her. With a single push of a button the scenery changing to something like an outside sparing yard. The students jumped, looking around with surprise. But Scar paid them no heed as she turned back to the instructor, turning one of her blades for him to grasp the handle.

"Demonstrate."

The shaking man immediately stopped shaking and looked at the blade then at Scar, his jaw clenching in resolution. He took the dagger from her, turning it in his hands. "I'll have you know, I shan't go easy on you. But-"

His words were cut short and replaced by a scream by one of the students. Grimhilde siped her drink as she watched the instructor's eyes bulged, the blade dropping from his hands and his head looked down at his split body. He wavered where he stood before falling forward and landing on his knees, his hands holding his stomach.

Scar flicked her dagger, the man's blood splattering the polished golden metal ground in a perfect arch save for where it dripped from his middle where she severed him cleanly in two. The A-Class assassin leaned forward, peering into his eyes as they glazed over, his life leaving him one hagged breath at a time.

"You talk too much. Now we will have to clean this room and reteach your students. Now bow to the Queen."

At that exact moment, the instructor's rolled to the back of his head as he pitched forward. His upper half fell to the ground with a solid thunk, leaving his bent legs kneeling on the ground, stagnant and bloody. His innards spilled out onto the floor, the room filling with the smell of bile and blood. One of the students threw up as another cried silently. Grimhilde sat up, her lip curled in a slightly disgusted sneer. Things like this have always been hard for her to witness, no matter the frequency of the occasion.

Scar turned and bowed to The Queen and left, picking up her fallen dagger along the way. Grimhilde groaned as she leaned over and called her trusted guard. He was a man of few words but obeyed The Queen nearly to a fault.

"Mirror, bring in a cleanup team. And tell those students to go back home. The sick one and crying one will never return. They work in the mines now."

The Mirror nodded, his heavily reflected armored body lumbering away, leaving The Queen to turn her drink absentmindedly, her lips pursed as she looked at the fallen body of the man who so boldly spoke to her personal bodyguard. Grimhilde closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, her head shaking slightly.

"I have to find another teacher now. Pity."

~~~~~~~

    Scar did not stop walking until she was in her own chambers, her clicking heels the only sound that echoed in the hallowed halls of her sparsely decorated side of the castle. Once in her chambers, she sent away her armory maids and lady-in-waiting remembering for the fourth time that week that she needed to tell her Queen that she had no use for a woman to do her hair and help her dress. But she was also her father's daughter, so there were some rules that had to be followed and appearances to be kept.

Tossing her blades on her bed, Scar looked in the mirror by her window. A stern woman stared back at her, the slight splattering of blood on her cheek a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin. Dipping her hand into the cool water in the bowl under the mirror, Scar wiped the blood away before it hardened anymore. She stared at herself for one more moment before she stripped herself down to her underclothes, the gathering of dinner soon approaching and she knew they waited for no one. Not even the Queen's personal bodyguard.

Scar was starting to regret asking her lady-in-waiting to leave, the straps of her daggers not wanting to clasp properly behind her shoulder. After turning to the mirror and using it to aid her, Scar was done. She wore a green dress darker than the forests that surrounded the Kingdom's stronghold. But just before she left, she caught a splash of red behind her ear.

Leaning closer to the mirror, Scar scratched at the crusted blood, brushing it away. Then she stared at herself, looking at every minute detail. She was supposed to be an emotionless, fearless, strong warrior. The lead assassin.

But she was falling apart.

Scar had hoped killing the self-righteous combat instructor would pull her back together, remind her of her duty, of the life she was meant to live. But it only made her hands shake and her head pound.

Reaching behind the mirror, Scar pulled out the only thing she had saved from when The Queen had cleared out the castle of everything having to do with her father, even her old clothes, and furniture was tossed out.

All save for a single photograph taken by one of his first invention prototypes. Scar held the brittle photo as she stared at the frozen memory.

She was no more than five, suspended in mid-laugh in her father's arms as he tickled her. King Belmon's young bearded face smiled, looking down at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world to him. They had just come back from a village festival in honor of the new technological advances. He wore street clothes and her, a simple red dress, a color she had vowed to never wear again.

But it seems, even just taking away a color associated with her past wasn't enough. She had hoped she could keep something from her past to ground her when things became particularly difficult, but the Queen had her own ways of making Scar cope.

Scar touched her puckered namesake that would forever be visible to those around her.

Flipping the photograph over, Scar read her real name.

Snow White.

Her mind immediately filled with a song she learned days after her father's death and would rely on it to keep her sane while on the battlefield.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall,

what makes the white snow fall?

A band of bandits, a crooked crow?

Anything to make her red blood show.

Lock her up, take the key,

Remind her she has no family.

Give her a blade, give her a dagger,

Teach her to fight 'til the men stagger.

She has no reason to shed tears,

So why not use her to awaken their fears?"

Her voice was raspy and unshed tears burned Scar's eyes as she crumbled up the last tether to her family filled past into her fist. With an angry scream and a strong, ear-numbing crack, Scar slammed her fist into the mirror, shattering it into a million pieces, some of it falling to the ground, the rest distorting her image.

"Mirror Mirror on the wall, that's how you make Snow White fall," she whispered with a shaky breath as her ice blue irises shown bright in her bloodshot eyes as they glowered at herself, her shell returning, her mask reforming.

Leaving the shards for the maids to clean up, Scar wrapped her bleeding hand, righted her misplaced hairs, and pulled her dress clear of wrinkles. She left her room and was not at all surprised to see her lady-in-waiting at the door, her eyes wide and looking to Scar's fist.

Scar squared her shoulders and nodded back into the room. "The mirror fell," she lied, knowing full well the woman had heard her scream and the mirror break. But she didn't care. Let the servants talk, she could silence them if need be.

Once Scar entered the dining room, she knew had she waited a moment more they would have started without her and she would have gone another night without dinner. But she ignored the room of dignitaries and lords with their ladies as she took her place at the right of The Queen.

"What happened to your hand?" The Queen hissed.

"A minor injury, I assure you. My mirror fell and I thought myself wise to catch it."

The Queen humphed before turning back to her soup. "I will see to it you get a new maid."

Scar only nodded, pushing away the sinking feeling in her gut at The Queen's inference by tucking into her dinner.

She could feel the dinner guests stealing glances at her, staring at her. But she was used to it. Everyone always stared. But after a few moments, the conversation picked up speed and amplitude signaling Scar to her nightly ritual of listening and taking note of what was going about in the upper classes of the Kingdom.

After a few long hours of nothing more than clothing, horse races, and robot enhancements for their homes, Scar was becoming frightfully tired of the mindless information. That is until voices at the end of the table became quiet.

Scar did not like what was done to her during training but it was all for The Queen. However, instances like this proved that her enhancements served a higher purpose than to aid The Queen in torturing Scar.

Turning up her inner ear enhancements, Scar was able to hear what the two lords were saying at the end of the table.

"I do not think it wise to tell her, especially over a meal."

"But she needs to know. Evil Queen or not, innocent people will be killed. I have a nephew in the mines, my sister would be devastated to lose him."

"And I have a niece of my own, but you don't see me raising flags for the lowest class all because of rumors."

"They are not rumors, Gerald, they are real facts. The dwarves have had enough. Her rule will end us all."

"Hush now and fill that flapping mouth with food. Better to stuff yourself than be run through."

Scar leaned back and pretended to pick a hair off her shoulder as she looked at the two men. The man she assumed as Gerald look no older than forty-five, his hair graying and his small face pinched in frustration. The other man, whom she knew not the name of, looked older, nearly sixty with a long gray beard and no hair on his head. He looked as though he would burst into tears any moment.

She thought it odd it was the old man who was raising the alarm and not the younger one. Since Scar could remember, she had dealt with several dissenters and their righteous fights. But they were quieted and few have ever ventured so far up the ranks to be in the castle. Scar looked at The Queen before returning to the last of her dessert.

Perhaps she will let this play out. There was no use in worrying The Queen unless it was a threat against her life.

Unless...it was.

~

Several days passed and Scar heard not a thing from the dwarves. They were a quiet bunch and obeyed The Queen ruthlessly. What little they spoke was made up of the gems they found and the warriors they contributed to the army.

Since the reign of The Queen most magical creatures stayed away, only a handful ever appearing close to the outer walls, the example's their earlier generations were made of did well to steer them clear of The Queen and her wrath.

But the dwarves served a purpose to the crown and had earned a spot among the laborers and civilians of the Kingdom. That only made the rumors seem more less likely.

That is until Scar was called to The Queen's throne room.

She was in her private training rooms when Merar, The Queen's silver armored army captain came in, his emotionless eyes landing on her with near boredom. Scar didn't need to ask what he was there for to know she was being summoned. Sheathing her blades, Scar followed the large, silent man as he lead her to the throne room.

The Queen stood and smiled at her opening her arms wide as Scar entered.

"Ah, you found her. Wonderful. Scar," The Queen gestured to the room drawing Scar's attention to a group of dwarves, "I would like you to meet the Daunting Seven. A cute name, don't you think?"

Scar glanced at The Queen, taking her odd behavior in stride as she looked to the dwarves. There were seven of them all ranging in size and appearance. Upon closer inspection, she found them to be slightly beaten up and bloodied. That made her raise a brow as she turned back to the throne.

The Queen sat and nodded to the larger dwarf that Scar assumed was their leader. "Now. Please. Continue on with your story."

Scar watched as a burly red-haired dwarf stepped forward and glared at Scar as he spoke. "You were once honored in our halls with songs of beauty and glowing kindness."

At his sudden statement directed at her, Scar nearly forgot to look uninterested. "Pity you wasted all that time singing and dancing when you could have been mining, as you promised to do in return for your people's safety."

The dwarf sneered. "She has corrupted you. Just as she has to most of the people who once called your father brother and King."

Scar stepped down from the throne dais and swiftly unsheathed her left dagger, pointing it at his neck as she neared him. "I am curious. What is it that you planned to do had you successfully raided the castle and killed The Queen?"

The dwarf didn't miss a beat as his earthy eyes peered up into her face. "Without her to pull at your leash you would be free to be the princess we all know is trapped inside her pet project."

Scar's ears rang and her heart pounded, blood racing through her veins. Before anyone had a moment to think, Scar slashed her sword, beheading the dwarf with nothing more than a flick of her wrist. She looked at the other dwarves, biting back a smile at their faces twisted in horror.

"My warrior has spoken. Are there any others who wish to make the same mistake as your so-called leader, or right your wrongs and speak of this no more?" The Queen said.

Two dwarves spoke at the same time, begging to be spared as they had families to take care of. Another dwarf rushed Scar, his deep yell filing the hall. But his voice was quieted the moment Scar lunged, making him run into her blade. She pulled out her purple dagger and used his clothes and knotted beard to clean his blood off, making it glow blue again.

Then the room went silent. Not a dwarf breathed too loud as they awaited their fate. Scar turned to The Queen to see her gaze at nothing in particular as she waved her hand.

"All of you are pardoned. It is your family you wish to see, correct?"

The remaining five dwarves nodded eagerly, their eyes darting to the door.

The Queen stood and raised her chin. "Bring the rest in."

Those doors opened and in came female dwarves as well as a few children. Scar regarded them with indifference as they looked around, scared and confused. One of the females screamed as she collapsed beside the corpse of her fallen husband, her face burned in his blood-soaked chest, staining her face and hair.

Another cry filled the room as a child and his mother rushed to the beheaded leader. The mother held the child to her chest in a desperate defense against the devastation of his father. But the damage was done. The rest of the families cowered together, clutching each other for dear life.

"As I said, you are all to be pardoned. You will never speak of this again. You will never attempt to rise up against me. And you will prove as examples to those who forget what has happened here," The Queen's voice echoed in the sobbing hall, their cries growing louder but out of gratitude as they bowed and thanked their merciful leader.

Scar had to bite her inner cheek to keep from smiling. She felt no remorse. She watched as they cried and cowered, her chest filling with pride at the power she had over those who thought themselves so strong. She looked at The Queen, ready to return to her post. But The Queen spoke again, this time stopping Scar in her tracks.

"Kill them."

Scar looked at the queen as the room fell silent. "Pardon?"

"I said; kill them. Kill them all."

Before Scar could process what was asked of her, the dwarf families rushed about, finding any way out that they could find. They screamed and they cried as the slipped on the blood of their kin. But Merar and his guards had blocked all the exits, keeping them trapped and at bay with their pointed electric spears.

"Go on, Scar. I will not ask you again."

But Scar couldn't move as she looked into the faces of those children. She made the mistake of imagining them as her at their age and how frightened she was thinking she too was going to die when her father left her in the hands of an Evil Queen.

Oh, how blind she had been.

Had she known she would experience life worse than death she would have wished for death the moment her father took his last breath.

"Merar..." The Queen groaned.

Without hesitation, the silver captain and his men slaughtered the rest of the dwarves. Scar could no more than stand there and silently cry as she watched them perish before her eyes. Blood pooled on the ground, cries froze on their lips as they fell in heaps, eyes stared lifelessly as if mocking her careless mask she was just moments before so proud she had regained.

Numb pain coursed through her body as Scar took a step back, then another, then another until she turned and ran, tears like fiery whips scorched down her cheeks for the first time in years, her legs taking her far away from the life she so wrongly thought was out of her reach to control.

What has she done? How could she let this happen?

"I'm sorry, Papa," Scar quietly choked as she escaped the castle and retreated into the forests beyond the walls.

~~~~~~

Grimhilde watched with half laden eyes as her assassin ran off, her sobs filling the back room halls as she tried to leave the reality of defying The Queen. She was saddened that it was this that broke her. She had thought the young woman would last longer.

Pity.

Waving a hand for her guard, Merar stepped forward, his men already cleaning up the mess that was already filling the room with far too much sickly aromas.

"Go after her. Tell her it is time she went out with the huntsman and check the borders. That will clear her head."

Merar nodded stiffly and turned to go.

"Ah, Merar, one more thing." The Queen called, without taking her eyes off the dwarf leader as his head was placed into a basket, his mouth agape, his neck dripping, and his eyes glassy, "I want her heart. See to it that I receive it this time tomorrow."

~~~~~

Scar had no more tears. She did not think she would ever cry again. Only now was she positive she could never shed a tear.

For she had spent every last one of them on her past, her mother and her father, her childish decision to not resist the queen, for the lives she has taken, for the friends she could have made, for the anger she felt toward the woman she called leader and Queen.

Suddenly she was tugged out of her thoughts by the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs. Having brought her two blue daggers was dressed in her training clothes, and had newfound rage and emotion coursing through her veins, Scar felt prepared to take on a whole army.

But what appeared out of the brush was far from an army and more closely resembled that of a friend. More on his part than hers really, seeing as how she was busy being the Assassin. But no longer.

"Scar? Stand down, it is only me. Well, me and the walking mirror."

Dale Grovesborne, The Huntsman, gave her a tight smile as he slowly approached her, Merar close behind him as silent as ever. Scar did nothing but watch them approach seeing them with new eyes. They were the enemy now.

"Scar, you know who I am right?"

Scar scoffed as she sheathed her daggers ignoring the soft gaze of his deep chocolate eyes as they searched her face. "I don't need you to come get me. I had a moment of relapsed judgment. I will return when I know it will not happen again."

Dale laughed. "You are already sounding like yourself. I heard what happened. Pity I was busy with the wall guards. More of the magical folk are getting closer and closer every day."

Scar nodded absentmindedly as she walked on, Dale and Merar in tow. "Mmm, yes, pity."

"Did you hear we are to add another foot to the walls? Another reason why I am forever grateful you suggest I become a huntsman rather than stay as a construction slave."

The Huntsman was not put off by her standoffish nature, she knew this so it was no use telling him to leave her alone, especially with Merar in company. "Did you need something Huntsman?"

Dale regarded her with slight apprehension as he walked beside her, moving branches and large plants out of her way as they walked nowhere in particular. "Yes, actually--" he glanced back at Merar before continuing--"I was hoping you would come with me to check a few out our outposts. Perhaps it will help you clear your head?"

Scar regarded him with an appraising gaze before she nodded ever so slightly. "Lead the way."

The three of them trekked through the outer woods, Dale's ever talkative voice filling the silence between them. Scar didn't mind his talking especially now when she didn't feel like focusing on any of the thoughts that so loudly tried to come to the forefront of her mind. She kept her eyes trained on Dale's back, his manly sent flowing through the air as the wind picked up.

She would have been lying if she said she didn't find Dale even the least bit attractive. But she had no time for such things. And she never would. She shook her head as she again trained her mind not to think about what would happen when she gets back to the castle. To The Queen.

Scar shivered as she felt eyes on her. She turned and saw Merar gazing at her with near murderous eyes. She raised her brows and turned back around, the chill now making sense. She never had any hard feelings for the armored man but he was not her favorite person to be around. Perhaps he knew this.

"Ah, here we are." Dale paused the small group in front of a small campsite only visible to those who were looking for it and knew what to look for. "Merar you are free to do...whatever it is you do. I wish to show Scar something."

Merar grunted and moved off but only a short distance, his shiny armor visible through the dense trees.

Dale chuckled as he shook his head. "I do wonder what he thinks sometimes."

Scar walked over to Dale, gesturing to the campsite. "So you wished to show me this? I was with you when we stationed these."

Dale's smile then turned tight as it dropped from his eyes but not his lips. "You are in danger."

Scar started at him. "What?" Suddenly she couldn't breathe.

Dale reached out and took her by the arm, shielding her behind a thick tree as he glanced over at Merar, his brow pinched and his movements stiff. "I overheard The Queen speaking to Merar before he came to find me. She wants your heart."

Scar only blinked. "My heart?"

"Yes!" Dale nearly shouted as he shook her shoulder, his eyes glancing about before he lowered his voice. "Yes your heart, the thing that keeps you alive."

"I know what a heart is Dale. But what for? She took my hearing and my sense of moral right and wrong. What damage would it be to give her my heart?"

Dale froze as he looked at her with pain in his eyes. "Are you so broken that you would give up so easily?"

"What reason do I have to trust you?" Scar bit back, not at all liking the look on his face or the feelings it enlisted in her chest.

"Scar I would never lie to you. You must know I have only ever wished to be your friend."

Scar looked at him a moment before twisting, hoping to spot Merar. But he was nowhere to be seen. That was rare if not impossible.

"See, he eludes us. We must strike him while we can. While he thinks us unaware of his plan."

"Then what? Where will I go?"

Dale shook his head. "Anywhere. We can go to any of the neighboring cities."

Scar raised a brow. "We?"

A soft smile pulled at Dale's lips as she looked around in an almost sheepish manner. "They would not miss me. I am replaceable. Besides," his gaze landed on her face, his eyes flickering over her scar then to her eyes, "I have no reason to stay if you are not there to ease some of the grueling pain of being The Huntsman."

Scar nearly forgot how to breathe. But before she could decide it was due to shock, fear, or happiness, a large sword came flying through the air, hitting the tree right above Scar's head. Both her and Dale ducked as Merar pulled his mighty sword out of the tree and geared up to swing again.

"RUN!" Dale yelled to Scar as they took off in different directions leaving Merar to hit nothing.

But Scar couldn't focus. She paused in her running and looked over her shoulder only to see Merar come upon Dale, The Huntsman doing his best to fight off the army captain. But the woodland warrior was no match for the armored beast. Dale spotted Scar, his left side of his face already bruised and bleeding, his breath coming out in spurts as he tried to keep Merar at bay.

"Go! Run!"

Scar suddenly realized she had two choices. Stay and help Dale or flee. Merar knicked Dale on the back with the tip of his blade making the young man cry out in pain. Scar closed her eyes and unsheathed her daggers, groaning as she shook her head.

With speed she did not know she had in her, Scar raced toward the men, just in time to block Merar's sword from coming down on Dale's head. Dale moved out of the way and caught his breath as Scar took her turn.

They had fought before, for practice, but not like this. She was tired in less than five minutes, bruises and cuts already forming along her body. Dale looked at her and with a nod the two of them fell into step, working off each other's strengths and weaknesses, almost like they had been made to fight side by side. Again, they had practiced one on one before, but never together, as one.

Scar could tell Merar was growing tired. Dale could sense it too. They just needed the right move to bring the beast down. Dale looked at Scar and nodded to his other side, signaling for her to dive under Merar on his next swing. Scar nodded in return, keeping her eyes on Merar's movements.

Blood, sweat, and woodland air did not mix well, especially on an empty stomach. But Scar pressed on, despite her shaking arms, aching muscles, and pounding head. A light breeze moved her hair as she parried Merar's blade, still waiting for the next moment he would raise his sword. Then, like he was reading her mind, he lifted his large sword and with a deep growl brought it down, only to have it stopped by Dale and his sword aided by one of Scar's daggers they had been passing between them throughout the fight.

"NOW!" Dale yelled. Scar didn't need to be told twice.

Scar threw herself on the ground, sliding on her knees as she came up right under Merar's arms. She spied a small slit between his chest plate and leg guards that left his middle waist bare. Without a moment's hesitation, Scar stabbed him, pressing the palm of her hand on the hilt of the sword to press it farther in.

Merar roared in pain and fell to his knees nearly crushing Scar in the process. But not before she moved the blade across his middle, opening him wide, the dagger catching on his muscles and a few bones. As he fell to the ground, his sword came down on her arm, slicing it long ways as she rolled out of the way, her face punched in pain as she bit back a cry of pain herself.

Dale reached out and pulled her to him as he pointed his blade at Merar. But the mighty man was already bleeding out. Scar watched as his body slumped forward, almost as if he too was bowing to her. Or so she liked to think so. The two of them watched Merar's body for a moment longer before they let out a breath of relief. He was dead.

Dale looked down at Scar who just so happy to be in his arms. He reached down and wiped some blood from her face, his eyes trailing down her body then to her arm where she was bleeding profusely.

"Here. I have some bandages."

Scar shook her head as she sat up, her eyes never leaving his. "I will be fine. The Queen gave me healing skin. It will leave a scar but will heal soon enough."

Then she did something she didn't think she would ever do. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. She nearly cried when she felt his own arms wrap around her middle, making her feel safe and warm.

"You are free Scar," Dale whispered into her ear, his breath warm.

For the second time, that day Scar did something else she didn't think she would ever do, let alone twice in one day. She cried. She cried hard. But not because she was in pain or scared, or homeless. But because she was free.

Or she almost was.

Scar buried her face in Dale's shoulder, breathing him in as she shifted, her dagger still in her hand. She lifted her eyes and stared at it shaking in her hand. Her eyes hardened as she blinked one last time. She shook her head slightly, her chest pinching in pain.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Sorry? Whatever for-"

Dale's words died on his lips as he choked on the blood that was no doubt seeping into his lungs. Tears blurred Scar's vision as she pulled the shining blue dagger out of her only friend's back.

"I'm sorry, but I-I can't..."Scar hiccupped as she felt Dale's arms fall from around her, his body slumped as he left on the ground, struggling to take a breath, "I can't risk it. I can't risk you being loyal to her."

With one final breath, Dale coughed and spit blood on the ground as he fell over, Scar well out of his way as she looked for her other dagger.

But she was in too much pain. She staggered against a tree, her eyes falling on Dale's lifeless body. Her own body sagged against the tree and just stared at the sky as it darkened, her eyes blinking closed.

Her breathing slowed as the pain that riddled her body slowly took over. She relaxed into the dirt, her hand letting go of her dagger as she gave into the darkness that called her name, the skin on her arms already starting to heal.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, this is how you make Snow fall."