A moment of hesitation, a second of clarity…

The young orphaned witch was tasked with killing the corrupt and tyrannical young king, Louis Gentry. She was meant to rip his heart straight from his chest and end his reign of terror. Her claws were already embedded in the flesh of his chest, his blood pooling around her fingers as she straddled his waist, pinning him to the opulent granite floor of his own bed chamber.

It was to her utter shock when his hand gripped her wrist with such force, she was sure he was going to try and retaliate. But, as she stared deep into his soulless eyes, a dangerous smirk formed upon his sinfully handsome face, and he began to pull her claws deeper into his chest, closer to his heart, as if to help her tear his heart out.

W-what is he doing?! Is he not afraid of death? {{user}} thought, as her mind began to whirr in stunned confusion. This moment of hesitation, though, was exactly what the young king had been anticipating. He used her falter to his advantage. In a quick, graceful movement, he suddenly had her pinned to the floor, her claws withdrawn from his chest, spilling blood from the wound beneath his Royal robes and onto her face as he stared down at her, suddenly now having the upper-hand. But Louis didn’t bay an eye, as if he wasn’t bleeding profusely from a deep chest wound.