I was watching Mirror Mirror while I was writing this. When Prince Alcott and Snow White showdown in the woods, right after Snow has just finished her "training" with the dwarves, a scene popped into my head. If the heroine in a story had been completely trapped, with no way out but death, what if she had lost her fear? What if she had stopped fighting, because there was nothing she could do?

This is a quick in-between scene I thought of off the top of my head, right in the middle of their fight, directly before Snow throws the rock at the tree branch which drops the snow onto the horse, causing the horse to kick the hell out of Alcott. :)

Enjoy.


Alcott had the thin swords with the blades crossed at about the middle, and held them both up at shoulder level in front of him. Snow White jerked her chin back as he held the matching pair of blades up, her heart throwing in an extra beat to its rhythm as she felt the tips of the shiny metal barely graze her neck. Her sword was sharp, she knew, and so was the prince's. But for all that stories and blacksmiths claim swords are razor sharp and would cut a thread draped over them, she had learned from the dwarves that a thin blade was almost useless and unnecessary. A blade had to be thick. Thick and sharp, but not razor thin. None of that mattered right now, she realized as she lifted her chin, trying to pull away from the tips of the blades. She continued to take step after step back as the prince advanced on her, with the path he would take putting her neck directly between the V on the opposite side of him.

Snow drew in a sharp breath as she felt the thin trunk of a tree hit her back right between her shoulderblades. There's no place to go now, the prince's gleaming blue eyes seemed to say. Nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. For once, she began to understand how the enemies Alcott felt malevolently towards seemed to simply shrink under his gaze, though not once had she ever truly seen it. Now, she understood, and it made sense.

She had only ever seen Alcott's eyes shine with admiration and adoration for her, and maybe just a hint of something she was unable to identify. But now… his gaze was terrifying. It wasn't dangerous, exactly, but it was the kind of gaze that a fox fixed a rabbit with before it leaped. It was the gleam of the thrill of the hunt, and the excitement of the chase. Snow was forced to lift her chin even higher as Prince Alcott pressed forward one last step, so that the sword blades pressed very lightly into her neck on either side. Her heartbeat sang, and she was almost positive that he could see her pulse racing in her throat.

An almost black gaze defiantly stared down a glorious blue one. Humiliation didn't quite describe what she felt now, but it wasn't how she was feeling in any case. It wasn't submission, and it wasn't sadness. She hadn't yet managed to stop the queen, and she was barely 18. This couldn't be it… there had to be more to do. There had to be more to life than this. There was more for her to do here.

So Snow White accepted it.

Her thin, pale shoulders dropped from the defensive height she'd left them at, and her posture against the tree now more resembled that of the princess she was born to be, instead of a vigilante trapped by the hunter. Her eyes were calm, and her face betrayed no emotion except acknowledgement. She knew her position right now was not one she could escape without her throat being slit like a cow that had been led to slaughter.

I'm ready, her eyes seemed to murmur. I know when I've been beaten.

Alcott tilted his head to the side a bit, watching her curiously. Are you sure about this? his eyes seemed to question. There is no going back. There is a fine line between courage and stupidity, Princess.

Her answer was accompanied by a slow blink. I choose courage.

And just like that, the sword points dropped from her neck. A sinful smirk twisted Prince Alcott's lips, and their battle resumed.


I hope you like it. It was just a moment's madness…