The Villain and the princess POV

'Is this a game for one, or a trick of two?'

'What do you think about this, my love?' 

 'I've never seen anything more wonderful.' 

 She smiled at his answer. 

 Is this a game for one, or a trick of two? 

The day she first met him he was in cocktail suit with an ebony bowtie, her burgundy gown flung in the golden lights of the ball, sweeping the edge of his shoes as if the laces could sweep away the dirt. She did not believe in love-at-first-sight until then. His curled hair was stars in the night sky and his low-pitched voice breathed the words of Minerva. He was the only person who could see through the paint of her art to read her heart, the ice sceptre waiting to be melted. 

Their wedding took place at a starry night when their lips fused. They were happy, the people liked him, so as her family. Nothing was wrong, not until when she discovered his big secret. 

The King died when she was pregnant with his child. An old maid approached her, helpless about knowing the poison he gave her father, a kind of slow poison that seeps day and night into one's skin, gradually killing one shapelessly. She was terrified and shocked. At first she refused to believe, but witnessed the silver darken when in contact with the old man's bedsheets, and the bottle of poisonous extract found from his servant. She lost her child that night, along with nausea and pain and blood. 

He buried her head into his chest, warming her weak body with the blood flowing in her family. She was too tired to shed any tears - crying does not work for the cold-blooded. When she recovered she took him to the dungeon where she locked his servant. The door opened to the badly beaten image of this poor guy. She said before he asked, 'You killed my father.' '

What are you talking about, darling,' he laughed. 

'You poisoned my father, isn't it?' she pointed to the sealed bottle at the corner of the room. 

'Oh darling,' he grabbed her hand, 'I know it has been harsh for you, but don't think about anything silly...' 

She flung off his hand, 'I'm not mad. I know everything.' 

His face sank. 

'Why do you have to do this?' she almost shouted. 

His expression was unreadable in the dark. 'Don't you want to be Queen, love?' His voice was as low-pitched, but no longer luring, only disgusting. 

Tears was flowing on her face now, 'You're the one who want all that power.' 

'No, darling, I only want you to be Queen, to hold that sceptre.' He said. 

'I'm not bearing this crime, I'm going to tell the world...' 

'No you will not!' 

'Guards!' she shouted, and men with armour and pointed spears ran to them instantly. But he had already grabbed her neck with a dagger held across her, 'Nobody moves.' 

To his surprise, she suddenly collapsed in his arms, maybe he grabbed too hard, maybe she was unbearingly enraged. She clutched her breast and breathed deeply with a twisted expression on her face. He held her in his arms without second thought, and soothed her hair cautiously, 'What's the matter, love? Did I hurt you?' 

'Too late,' in lighting speed she opened her eyes wide, grabbed the dagger from his hands and sank it into his heart with all her strength. She was kneeling beside him now, feeling his warm blood between her fingers. He made a hearty, big smile. 

'What do you think about this, my love?' 

'I've never seen anything more wonderful.'

She smiled at his answer. 

The pool of blood contaminated her beige dress. She leaned downwards to kiss his lips for the one last time, 'I love you.' 

The curled hair of his was as beautiful as the day they first met. The deep eyes on his face nonetheless spoke equal amount of love for her like they always do. His wide smile even when in blood pool was wholehearted and intimate. He raised his hand with all his effort to touch her pale, soft skin, 'I... love you too.'