Oh, fuck, the longings and agonies of youth.

John Irving

She had killed so many, yet she still wasn't used to the sight of blood. She cowered and winced when she caught a glimpse of the crimson liquid, bubbling out of a child's mouth, or a man's neck, or a woman's breasts.

She was so used to it. So used to taking life.

Her mother had taught her that way. And she couldn't ever disagree with her mother.

x

"Come here, my darling. Your hair is spotted with dirt and grime. Let me clean it for you." Her mother was sitting near the fireside, a brush in hand. She appeared as young as ever. Her dark brown hair was let down, in a flurry of curls. Her beady, black eyes glittered in the light, stark against her pale skin. Clarissa wondered how they were even related sometimes. The gods must have blessed them with contrasting features, she decided. She sauntered to the woman and settled between her short legs.

Her mother released a sigh. "You are so beautiful. So precious." Her words came out as soft murmurs and her fingers dug delicately into Clarissa's soft strands.

"How many did you kill today?"

Clarissa blinked, awakening from her state of numbness. She licked her lips, glad her mother was behind her. "Five."

The woman hummed. Long beats of silence followed before she chose to say, "I see."

When Clarissa's hair was in a thick braid, she stood up and walked to a window, where the sun was shining brilliantly over their secret land. "I expect more. Much more."

x

"Are you going to town?" She asked curiously, watching as her mother readied a small wooden basket.

"Yes. We do need a few supplies here and there. Do you wish for me to bring you something back, my dear?" Amatis gave her a momentary glance. She was wearing her usual attire when entering places with other people. An ebony cloak and long, brown boots. The hood concealed most of her head and hair.

Clarissa wrung her hands together. "I-I... May you take me with you?" She added with haste, "Please?"

She was expecting anger, but her mother only sucked in a breath. "You can not." Her voice was firm, with no room for argument. "And you understand why, do you not?"

Clarissa swallowed the lump in her throat and rubbed her fingers fervently against her white knuckles. She didn't look at Amatis as she spoke, "I am too dangerous. I am a weapon with no handle."

Content with the answer, her mother dipped down the swirling stairwell, the cloth of her cloak flying outwards in large ripples.

The castle was hushed again.

x

She went to the only place she could.

Even if it felt like claws were raking down her heart.

x

She heard the footsteps before she saw the girl.

Often, Clarissa wished they didn't live in such a secluded area. In an old fortress surrounded by thick forests and a dark entryway most people didn't see or notice.

She hid behind the bark of a tree, steadying the hand that held her dagger. Before she moved, she peered helplessly at the sky. Then, she lunged forward and the scream that followed echoed in her ears.

She wished she were deaf.

x

They had to keep their home a secret.

Or else.

Everyone would want to kill her.

x

Amatis returned after two days.

Clarissa waited for her desperately, needing the presence of a human companion. She wept when her mother appeared, her arms grasping bags of items, most of them vegetables and fruits.

She just needed some company.

x

They ate soup for supper. A mixture of small pieces of fish, broth, and carrots.

Clarissa swirled her spoon in the hot liquid. She didn't have the stomach to eat. She was hungry, but she just couldn't swallow anything. Her mind wouldn't allow her to.

Her mother noticed and sent her a frown from across their rectangular table. "What is the matter, Clarissa?" She rose slightly in her chair. "Is it the soup? Too hot? Perhaps I could've prepared it a bit warmer..."

Clarissa shook her head. She stretched her lips, forcing out a reassuring smile. "Nothing mother. Just thinking."

x

She was atop the tall man in less than a second. He struggled beneath her, swearing and gasping. Grunting, she set his arms apart with her hands, making sure he couldn't escape her hold, and stared down at his face.

He was young. Perhaps her age. His brown hair was matted against his forehead with sweat, his eyebrows drawn in surprise and something else. He didn't look afraid. His green orbs observed her carefully, not revealing anything.

He spoke first, before she could strike him. "Who are you?"

She hadn't ever spoken to a person other than her mother. Everyone she had ever slaughtered protested and shouted, but not to her. Nobody had ever dared to say anything to her.

She didn't reply.

His chest was rising and falling beneath her. He continued, not waiting for her. "Will you kill me?"

She tore herself away from him.

And she ran to the safety of her castle.

x

On her mattress that night, tears fell from her eyes and dripped onto her pillow. She silenced her whimpers with a hand over her mouth.

Her thoughts kept creeping back to the man she had run from.

She never scampered from a fight.

This was her first time.

She trembled.

x

So yeah. You got a perspective of Clarissa. Yup, it's a lot different than Tangled, lol. But that's what I promised. Enjoy and review.