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No Prince Can Save You Now

warriors

Snow White was enjoying the quiet. The guys were off at the mine. The bluebirds were off at a convention and not asking for duets with her. She had finished her chores and was enjoying a cup of chamomile.

She should have known better.

It was too quiet.

She was about to move for her sword when the boot smashed into the side of her face. She tumbled into the corner.

“Snow.,” snarled the female voice.

“Pocahontas.,” she said, bluntly acknowledging the tall warrior woman, sword drawn, standing in her living room.

“I heard what you did to Ariel. You know all the legend says is, ‘Cut off their head, absorb their power,’ – it says nothing about filet them and hang them in the harbor for everyone to see. That’s not normal. You’re sick. You need help.”

“That’s rich coming from the woman who left her prince to come back and live with seven dwarfling husbands in a small house and one bed. Pervert.”

The sword sang from behind Pocahontas and flew into Snow’s hands.

“Still relying on fairy god-mother to keep you alive with enchantments, eh, Snow? Let’s end this.”

"I will cut you up into all of the fucking colors of the wind, you bitch!"

The swords clashed in a flash of magic and steel.

Snow stared her down defiantly.

“There can be only one.”

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