“Some flashlight,” Loki spoke to it as if it could hear him.
Snow White floated in front of Loki, her dress and black hair waving awkwardly and horizontally to the left as if the castle had turned on its side. She let out a soft sound as if saying ahhh after a great vein-filling meal. She stretched her arms sideways and tilted her chin slightly up. Her eyes turned demonic black and she levitated another inch higher.
If he could only be brave, pick up the flashlight, and see her face. He had never been so curious about a demon’s face before, and he knew it could cost him his life.
Loki saw her villainous eyes again, blocking whatever soul hid beyond her monstrous persona–-if there was any soul left in the undead princess. A golden glint flashed in her eyes for a fraction of a second, so intense that it lit up the aura around her as if she were a fairy or a firefly lost in the dark of night. The glint was short lived, but enough to see that she looked diabolically enchanting.
Something about her was spellbinding. Her anger had a childish halo to it, as if she wasn’t made of real evil; some kind of evil candy maybe, something you’d like to taste even though it would kill you. Maybe she was just a bratty princess playing with her toy fangs.
Loki froze in the moment, looking at her. He could see nothing else but her face. She had consumed his mind and soul, and he was resisting the feeling of wanting to know her story, her real one.
He understood why Donnie stood staring at her and called her beautiful instead of running away. There was something about her that was indescribable. It was like having butterflies in your stomach when you fall in love, a feeling that could only be expressed with a brush in paintings, a beautiful song that could make you cry, a rhyme in a poem, or the delicate choreography in a dance. She was horribly beautiful in a way that could only be described using an oxymoron like terrifyingly amazing, wickedly lovely, or bloody white. Loki wanted to shake his soul free from her, but he knew he was too late.
Those she lays her eyes upon, don’t live long enough to tell about it.
They were right. Loki was taking his last breaths in his mortal life as she finally decided to come closer.
The vampire princess approached him slowly, soaring over the breathless air in the castle, like a long lost demon Loki was bound to face, like karma that came calling after years of waiting. Elegantly yet beastly, carefully yet deadly, she came down to him.
Loki felt that both of them had a lot in common. He could see it in those black eyes. Looking at her was like looking into a mirror that only reflected the darkness he possessed; the darkness Charmwill had told him about. Loki felt like asking her the same question he’d been asking himself all the time: Who the heck am I? And who the heck are you, wicked princess? Do we both have the same darkness inside us, and is it so awful I deserved being banned, and you deserved being turned into a demon?
They shared a certain pain, and it struck Loki as ironic that they both wanted to kill each other. It was inevitable, though, one of them had to die and one had to live. Only Loki was the weaker of the two.
Loki held his pose, hoping she wouldn’t sense his fear. Mesmerized by her presence, he waited for her to come even closer. He thought that when she was close enough, he’d give it a shot and stab her with the Alicorn. He hoped this Alicorn was really special because he needed it now. He’d even tried to whisper ‘Ora Pedora’ to it, but nothing happened.
It’s my only chance. It’s my job, and for all I know she is tricking me into liking her like she did Donnie.
He was eye to eye with his tormentor.
Snow White stretched out a hand and touched his face with the back of her smooth hand, sliding it across his cheek. She did it slowly, almost tentatively, yet it made Loki’s skin crawl. How was she capable of stirring all these contradicting feelings in him?
When she pulled her hands away, he felt undone. Why did he feel like he wanted her soft hand back on his cheek?
Focus, Loki! It’s your weakness that caused you to spend the last year in Ordinary World.
She tilted her head and looked at him like cute dogs do sometimes, as if he were a baby she was supposed to love and take care of, but slit its throat afterwards.
Loki let her run her fingers across his other cheek. It was a feeling of pleasure and pain. He stared at her, held his breath, persuading himself that she wasn’t close enough to stake her.
Who are you fooling, Loki? Do it! Just do it!
Once it showed on his face that he was about to stake her, she choked him with the same hand that caressed his face, pressing hard against the veins in his neck, her fingers marking the flesh as if it was clay. Her reflexes were too fast.
Loki missed her heart, and staked her in the stomach, which was a careless mistake. It had to be the heart.