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Chapter Five: The King Approaches

In his boredom, he had turned to wooing women, to learning the art of seduction. But there was no challenge there; it was too damn easy. The ladies of his kingdom fell at his feet without any coaxing. His beauty and grace were enchanting even to his own kind and, if simple beauty wasn't enough, his status could more than entice them.

For the first time in his immortal life, the King despaired, fearing there was nothing that could ease his haze of indifference. The days stretched before him, the long unending hours of an immortal life with no focus or drive.

But then he heard it: a quiet calling. One small voice crying out amid the drone of millions; a voice that wasn't summoning him to perpetuate his revenge.

Quietly, he slipped into the mortal realm, following the pull to where ever it would take him.

The hospital ward he appeared in was quiet, which was surprising considering the fact that it was the natal unit he had appeared in. The walls were pale and pasty looking, the floor was made of heavily scuffed tile, and the lights were kept slightly dimmed. One or two dozen newborn babies slept peacefully, twitching occasionally with the very first of many dreams. A few nurses bustled about, oblivious to their ethereal visitor.

The King paused, confused. The pull was here, there could be no mistaking that. How could such a strong calling have come from a babe? He prowled between the rows of humans, like an angry wolf among innocent little sheep.

Which one? He searched left and right, high and low, through sleeping girls and boys who looked passed him thanks to his cloaking magic. As a nurse walked straight through him it crossed his mind that perhaps one of the adults had summoned him rather than one of the little ones.

A wail interrupted his thoughts and he was drawn to it as if it were a Siren's call. The nurse that had strode through him rushed to a pram on the other side of the room, seeing to the child. His walk full of purpose and pursuit, the King stepped beside the nurse to look at the babe.

The wailing ceased.

A pair of baby blue eyes stared up at him in wonder. Not through him, as they should have, but at him. So, this was his caller! This tiny little girl had reached out to him in the Underground all the way from here!

His chest tightened painfully as he stared at the little one. He reached out a hand to brush against her tiny brow, but the nurse was lifting her, taking her away. With a snarl he made to go after her, but there was a new summons filling him, a call for his Labyrinth. He studied the girl being taken away for a moment longer, then vanished with an angry flash of magic, ready to give hell to whoever had pulled him away from this meeting.

It was a gloomy day; gray clouds masked a sky of endless blue, and a stiff autumn breeze whipped fallen leaves through the air. The King went to the mortal world to wander through their parks sometimes, though they were a mockery of nature when compared to his mighty forests. In an interesting way, he found it fun to disguise himself as a young boy so he could study his prey undetected.

Today, he was a strapping boy of ten, dressed in a black woolen coat with a fire red scarf draped loosely about his shoulders, his pale blond hair pulled into a small ponytail at the back of his neck. With the grace and ease that came to the deadliest of predators, the parentless boy blended into the crowd seamlessly, never drawing unwanted eyes. For a time, it entertained him.

Further down the path, when his fun began to wane, he sullenly kicked a rock. The problem was that a very inconvenient truth refused to be ignored. 'What is the point in all this preparation if I know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that I'm always going to win?'

For decades, centuries, the King had found himself going through a litany of unending routines, until his mounting boredom had finally given way to depression. And depression was precisely why he found himself, incognito, hiding in the human world when he should have been celebrating one of the biggest holidays of his people. Duty demanded that he be at his castle, entertaining the nobles that would begin to pour in for the gala that night. The thought of all those people though, of the social climbers and the backstabbing 'friends', not to mention all the family, turned his stomach. He just couldn't bring himself to face them right now; he was tired of playing nice around creatures he hated just because he couldn't afford to lose their support in whatever venture he happened to be campaigning. And god, the women! He was sick of his advisory council dragging every eligible woman before him in an effort to get him to finally take a wife and produce an heir. He couldn't weather that mire right now, not when he longed for something true and exciting.

Something was wrong, had been wrong for a very long time, if he were honest. His emotions were too raw these days, too close to the surface.

Someone let out a scream of frustration that perfectly mirrored the one he had felt bubbling up from his own lungs.

Just ahead of him was a little girl, no older than four, who was trying to keep her long hair out of her face. She was no match for the persistent wind, however; every time she pushed her chocolate colored locks behind her ears, Mother Nature would soon whip them back into her face and over her eyes. The girl stomped her tiny foot and let out another frustrated shout. He had almost walked by her before she managed to subdue her hair.

"Now stop it!" she cried up to the sky, eyes flashing and small fists shaking theatrically.

He stopped dead, shock paralyzing him; he knew this child! The eyes were different, a hazel green instead of baby blue, but he had felt the pull of her calling before and there could be no mistaking her. How such a small creature could be filled with so much want as to be able to summon an Immortal King, he had no idea.

"Don't stare at me," she grumbled at him, pushing wayward curls behind her ears.

"Sorry," he spoke the foreign word quietly, chuckling as the breeze blew her hair about again. He couldn't help but laugh at the angry glare he received for that. There was something reactive, something enchanting about the little girl, and he felt himself come alive as he had not been for ages in her presence. Strangely charmed by the feelings she wrought in him, he pulled the thin leather tie out of his own hair. "Here," he offered, stepping behind her and gently gathering her tresses into a long ponytail. "Better?" the boy-king asked once he had finished.

She bobbled her head, testing the tie's durability. "Yes," she answered upon reaching her decision. The girl turned around to face him, "But won't your hair blow around now?" Her little brow wrinkled in concern, as if that was the absolute worst fate she could imagine befalling anyone.

A honeyed voice called out, "Sarah? Baby-doll, where did you go?"

He knew the call was for her; with some bone deep instinct, he knew this was fate's way of keeping them apart. "I was going home anyway," he replied to her long forgotten question.

She dashed up the hill to the woman who had called. "Thank you!" The girl shouted it over her shoulder, something of an empty gesture since she never looked back at the boy who had, indeed, already gone home.

He wasn't sure how or even why but the girl, Sarah, was connected to him. When she was angry he became frustrated, when she was happy he felt near euphoric, when she was sad he was overcome with the urge to rage, and when she wanted something he ached to be the one to give it to her.

The King had only seen the girl twice! What was she to so thoroughly twist him up like this?

It was true that in days long gone, magical creatures had been deeply connected to humans. Mortals were made entirely of wanting, and his kind thrived on strong emotions. The children of magic had been able to grant and deny human wishes at will, soaking in the delight and despair that they caused. Sadly, that relationship had come to an end once he had moved his kingdom to the Underground. Aside from himself and the few who lived within the Labyrinth itself, human contact had all but ceased for his people. Occasionally, a mortal could fill with so much longing that they inadvertently sent out a tiny burst of magic, a calling to the one who would best be able to answer it, but it was unlikely that the summoning would reach its destination anymore. And, even if by some miracle it did, it was highly unlikely that the call would be strong enough to lead the recipient back to the caller's origin.

That girl had done it. With only a few hours of life behind her, she had opened her new eyes and sent out the strongest calling he had ever felt in his long life. And it wasn't just that it had been a strong calling that intrigued him: it was that it had been a strong calling for him. He was a king, he was The King, and yet that tiny breath of life had demanded his presence.

It was unheard of, to say the least. Most scholars had agreed that the line of The Kings had always been gifted with greater power than the rest and were therefore immune to the call. What could such a small creature want so fiercely that the only one in all of existence with the ability to accommodate her was him? Not even the great Napoleon, who had wanted the entire world to bow before his might, had had the strength to send a calling to the King. But that small slip of a girl, the little Sarah, was summoning him with magic so pure and powerful that it felt like he was being bound in threads and ribbons of gold and sapphire.

If this was just so that he could tie her hair back, then the Cosmos was mocking him. Depression or no, he had better things to do than play hairdresser for a toddler.

Something in the back of his mind niggled at him, and he cursed. Toddler though she was, he was still intrigued. Whether she wanted it or not, she now had the focus of a very sharp and shrewd King centered on her. 'Let's see what makes your little heart beat, shall we?' he thought while twirling a small crystal in one hand.

For a brief moment of clarity, he gave pause, realizing he had gone from avenging his people and defending his honor to spying on a child whose existence was a mere blip compared to his own. Yes, the Great Stars were truly mocking him, but…

He caught his young mortal's smile through the reflection of a crystal, and was instantly filled with peace and warmth.

… it was worth it. For her.

He couldn't figure her out. Sarah was an enchanting girl and she shouldn't have been. Not to him, he was above such things. He enchanted mortals, not the other way around.

The King had gone four years between the first meeting and the second, but now he found he could barely get through the day without having checked on her at least once. His habit had started purely out of curiosity: she was a riddle to him, something that he could sit in a quiet room to think about and try to unravel when he was bored. But he existed in a constant state of boredom, and so his thoughts were consumed by her.

Why were they connected? Hours were spent pondering that mystery and his frustration only grew when he could reach no answer. So he started checking on her more often. She was already stealing so much of his time, what were a few more hours?

Curiosity gave way to studying; perhaps if he knew as much about her as possible an answer would eventually present itself. He created crystals with the sole purpose of watching Sarah, capturing scenes of her for him to play back as many times as necessary before he knew her well enough to draw conclusions. His patient calculation taught him many things: Sarah wrinkled her adorable little nose when she giggled, she liked lemon tea with almond biscuits, her best friend was a stuffed toad named Henry, she liked dressing dolls in brightly colored gowns, she wished that her hair had more curl than wave, she loved it when her mother hugged her, looking into mirrors sometimes frightened her, and…

Studying had given way to obsession.

She was seven now, and he was extremely aware that this was becoming unhealthy for him. He hadn't seen her in person since that day in the park many years ago, but there was no doubt that he knew her better than he knew himself. And still he had no answer to his riddle.

The crystal in front of him floated gently on a pocket of air, bobbing occasionally with his tumultuous thoughts. The tiny little Sarah reflected inside the smooth globe was sitting on a swing at a playground, alone. She always seemed to be alone, and it made him feel. Of course, it also made him feel when she was around other people, so either way he couldn't win. Still, it hurt that she lacked companionship right now. He longed to be the steady friend she could always turn to. She was bewitching and delightful, his Sarah.

She heaved a mighty sigh and kicked at the ground dejectedly. For a moment she appeared close to tears but, instead of crying, she spoke, "Once upon a time there was a little girl, who was sweet and fair, but she never had anyone to play with. She was alone." Sarah kicked at the ground again, drawing swirls in the dirt beneath her swing.

Suddenly, she perked up, inspiration hitting her. "She spent her afternoons dreaming of a far-off land where fairies and elves danced through ancient forests. She dreamt of the land where Prince Charming lived, waiting to sweep her off her feet, to rescue her from her boredom and loneliness." She consider something, then shook her head. "Not a prince, a king. He was a King of Goblins who would have the power to make her happy no matter what the cost."

It was the first time since he had learned to control his magic that he dropped a crystal by accident.

He was the King of many things, the Lord and Master of all that was Underground, but because of the nature of his dealings with mortals, humans chose only to focus on one of his more negative titles. He had been proud of that in the past, knowing that it would strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. Now he was simply worried.

Sarah knew him, beyond all logic and possibility she had dreamt of the Goblin King, of him. Apparently their connection ran deeper than he had suspected. But how? How was any of this possible?

Another mysterious layer was added to the puzzle that made up the young child.

Shock had not prevented him from keeping tabs on her. If anything, it only made him watch her more often. She told the best stories and, despite the inspiration that had struck on that swing a year ago, she had never mentioned a king again. Her stories were different now, happy; tales of danger and adventure, things to keep a young imagination occupied.

But there came a day in her eighth year when he found her curled up in the back of her closet, crying. His heart beat uncomfortably, his silky tongue stuck even as he longed to soothe her.

In the darkness of that tiny closet, she continued her abandoned story. "… and when the girl was sad because her parents didn't love each other anymore, he made it rain so that she wouldn't have to cry alone," she hiccuped on a sob. "And he made the flowers grow so that when she was exhausted of being sad, she would have something to smile about."

So he did, because she'd asked, because the sickly feeling in his chest demanded he grant these wishes. He gave her days when the wind howled and thunder crashed and rain came down in great flooding torrents. His theatrics were the best foul mood companions anyone could ask for. And when she finally seemed to perk up he grew little purple flowers on the trellis underneath her window, hoping that they might calm her with their peaceful scent.

He felt Sarah made it through that period of her life a little easier than he did. His comfort was all around her, but he was never satisfied with what he gave. Nothing was ever enough. He wanted to be there for her in person, to be able to wipe her tears away and make her smile. Instead, he had to content himself with sending bad weather and flowers. It had been what she had asked for, after all, what she had wanted, so he had forborne and simply done his best to fulfill her requests. She seemed happy enough with the result.

The fact that he wasn't didn't really matter.

For five years, Sarah and her father lived in relative peace, but the King could see the strain that her parents' divorce was putting on her; she had loved her mother dearly and had so little to remind herself of the woman. Her father'd had a tough time of the solitary life at first, but had found his luck once he had started courting again. The King would have wished the man many happy years with his new Lady if it weren't for the fact that Sarah hated her. And who could blame the girl, really? She had had the undivided attention of her father for so long that she wasn't used to having to share his time, and with another woman no less!

He could see the explosion coming a mile off. Her father had no intention of letting this woman slip through his fingers; he was courting for marriage. But Sarah didn't want to believe that there was anyone as perfect for him as her mother had been, so she held this newcomer in contempt.

Sarah was thirteen when he felt the familiar pull of her summons. And oh, how he wanted to go to her, but until he figured out what connected them he had decided to keep his distance. He pulled one of his crystals from the air and found her with an ease that less than a century ago would have frightened him. Sarah was stomping through the woods behind her house, kicking rocks and snapping twigs. She was a fine Fury, an angry and vindictive soul to match his own.

"…and when the girl was angry because her father was marrying the worst woman in the entire world, the Goblin King sent her a companion, a puppy, so that someone would always love her when he could not be there." He chose to ignore the fact that he never was there. If he focused on it he would be forced to rectify the situation, and he had a feeling she wasn't old enough to handle meeting him yet.

So he created her puppy, a little mop of a dog made of friendliness and affection; a friend for as long as she wanted him. She named him Merlin, after the great wizard, and for a while she was all smiles again.

But it couldn't last long. Married couples had a zest for procreation.

Her next calling came a year later, and he had to admit that he was surprised it hadn't come sooner.

Sarah was in her room this time, mangling an afghan blanket in her clenching and twirling hands. "…and when the girl was furious because her wicked stepmother was having a baby, he promised to create a spell that would bring them together. He would twist his land and build a mighty army so that no one could ever tear them apart."

He carefully pondered her words. Twist his land and build a mighty army? He had already done that! How could she know these things?

He had nothing to give her this time and it made him growl in annoyance. She had asked for him, in a round about way, but he simply couldn't grant her wish. This was a dangerous game she was starting to play: she had no idea what she was asking for, and the King was not widely known for his compassion. If she persisted in her wishes for him, he would not have the strength to deny her. And he was no saint; she would have to take him, darkness and all.

His little Sarah didn't have a clue what she was setting into motion.

He watched her suffer through the first few months after her half-brother was born. She couldn't adapt; she hadn't even accepted the presence of her step-mother yet, so there was no way she could grow accustomed to the baby. Her temper ran high and he found himself constantly frustrated, courtesy of their empathic connection. He was restless, didn't know what to do to make things better for her.

But he didn't have to pace for too long. As usual, his clever little girl gave him the answer.

"…and when the girl was enraged because her little brother was a spoiled brat and no one paid attention to her anymore, the doting King gave her The Words." Really, who was he to argue when, for the second time in only a few months, she asked for him?

So he gave her The Words; words that had struck such fear in her people, they had once been outlawed by penalty of death. He put them into a book for her, gave her both the good and the bad and waited to see what she would think of her Goblin King now. He could only hope she would say the one thing that could bring them together.

Description
Chapter Five: The King Approaches

In his boredom, he had turned to wooing women, to learning the art of seduction. But there was no challenge there; it was too damn easy. The ladies of his kingdom fell at his feet without any coaxing. His beauty and grace were enchanting even to his own kind and, if simple beauty wasn't enough, his status could more than entice them.

For the first time in his immortal life, the King despaired, fearing there was nothing that could ease his haze of indifference. The days stretched before him, the long unending hours of an immortal life with no focus or drive.

But then he heard it: a quiet calling. One small voice crying out amid the drone of millions; a voice that wasn't summoning him to perpetuate his revenge.

Quietly, he slipped into the mortal realm, following the pull to where ever it would take him.

The hospital ward he appeared in was quiet, which was surprising considering the fact that it was the natal unit he had appeared in. The walls were pale and pasty looking, the floor was made of heavily scuffed tile, and the lights were kept slightly dimmed. One or two dozen newborn babies slept peacefully, twitching occasionally with the very first of many dreams. A few nurses bustled about, oblivious to their ethereal visitor.

The King paused, confused. The pull was here, there could be no mistaking that. How could such a strong calling have come from a babe? He prowled between the rows of humans, like an angry wolf among innocent little sheep.

Which one? He searched left and right, high and low, through sleeping girls and boys who looked passed him thanks to his cloaking magic. As a nurse walked straight through him it crossed his mind that perhaps one of the adults had summoned him rather than one of the little ones.

A wail interrupted his thoughts and he was drawn to it as if it were a Siren's call. The nurse that had strode through him rushed to a pram on the other side of the room, seeing to the child. His walk full of purpose and pursuit, the King stepped beside the nurse to look at the babe.

The wailing ceased.

A pair of baby blue eyes stared up at him in wonder. Not through him, as they should have, but at him. So, this was his caller! This tiny little girl had reached out to him in the Underground all the way from here!

His chest tightened painfully as he stared at the little one. He reached out a hand to brush against her tiny brow, but the nurse was lifting her, taking her away. With a snarl he made to go after her, but there was a new summons filling him, a call for his Labyrinth. He studied the girl being taken away for a moment longer, then vanished with an angry flash of magic, ready to give hell to whoever had pulled him away from this meeting.

It was a gloomy day; gray clouds masked a sky of endless blue, and a stiff autumn breeze whipped fallen leaves through the air. The King went to the mortal world to wander through their parks sometimes, though they were a mockery of nature when compared to his mighty forests. In an interesting way, he found it fun to disguise himself as a young boy so he could study his prey undetected.

Today, he was a strapping boy of ten, dressed in a black woolen coat with a fire red scarf draped loosely about his shoulders, his pale blond hair pulled into a small ponytail at the back of his neck. With the grace and ease that came to the deadliest of predators, the parentless boy blended into the crowd seamlessly, never drawing unwanted eyes. For a time, it entertained him.

Further down the path, when his fun began to wane, he sullenly kicked a rock. The problem was that a very inconvenient truth refused to be ignored. 'What is the point in all this preparation if I know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that I'm always going to win?'

For decades, centuries, the King had found himself going through a litany of unending routines, until his mounting boredom had finally given way to depression. And depression was precisely why he found himself, incognito, hiding in the human world when he should have been celebrating one of the biggest holidays of his people. Duty demanded that he be at his castle, entertaining the nobles that would begin to pour in for the gala that night. The thought of all those people though, of the social climbers and the backstabbing 'friends', not to mention all the family, turned his stomach. He just couldn't bring himself to face them right now; he was tired of playing nice around creatures he hated just because he couldn't afford to lose their support in whatever venture he happened to be campaigning. And god, the women! He was sick of his advisory council dragging every eligible woman before him in an effort to get him to finally take a wife and produce an heir. He couldn't weather that mire right now, not when he longed for something true and exciting.

Something was wrong, had been wrong for a very long time, if he were honest. His emotions were too raw these days, too close to the surface.

Someone let out a scream of frustration that perfectly mirrored the one he had felt bubbling up from his own lungs.

Just ahead of him was a little girl, no older than four, who was trying to keep her long hair out of her face. She was no match for the persistent wind, however; every time she pushed her chocolate colored locks behind her ears, Mother Nature would soon whip them back into her face and over her eyes. The girl stomped her tiny foot and let out another frustrated shout. He had almost walked by her before she managed to subdue her hair.

"Now stop it!" she cried up to the sky, eyes flashing and small fists shaking theatrically.

He stopped dead, shock paralyzing him; he knew this child! The eyes were different, a hazel green instead of baby blue, but he had felt the pull of her calling before and there could be no mistaking her. How such a small creature could be filled with so much want as to be able to summon an Immortal King, he had no idea.

"Don't stare at me," she grumbled at him, pushing wayward curls behind her ears.

"Sorry," he spoke the foreign word quietly, chuckling as the breeze blew her hair about again. He couldn't help but laugh at the angry glare he received for that. There was something reactive, something enchanting about the little girl, and he felt himself come alive as he had not been for ages in her presence. Strangely charmed by the feelings she wrought in him, he pulled the thin leather tie out of his own hair. "Here," he offered, stepping behind her and gently gathering her tresses into a long ponytail. "Better?" the boy-king asked once he had finished.

She bobbled her head, testing the tie's durability. "Yes," she answered upon reaching her decision. The girl turned around to face him, "But won't your hair blow around now?" Her little brow wrinkled in concern, as if that was the absolute worst fate she could imagine befalling anyone.

A honeyed voice called out, "Sarah? Baby-doll, where did you go?"

He knew the call was for her; with some bone deep instinct, he knew this was fate's way of keeping them apart. "I was going home anyway," he replied to her long forgotten question.

She dashed up the hill to the woman who had called. "Thank you!" The girl shouted it over her shoulder, something of an empty gesture since she never looked back at the boy who had, indeed, already gone home.

He wasn't sure how or even why but the girl, Sarah, was connected to him. When she was angry he became frustrated, when she was happy he felt near euphoric, when she was sad he was overcome with the urge to rage, and when she wanted something he ached to be the one to give it to her.

The King had only seen the girl twice! What was she to so thoroughly twist him up like this?

It was true that in days long gone, magical creatures had been deeply connected to humans. Mortals were made entirely of wanting, and his kind thrived on strong emotions. The children of magic had been able to grant and deny human wishes at will, soaking in the delight and despair that they caused. Sadly, that relationship had come to an end once he had moved his kingdom to the Underground. Aside from himself and the few who lived within the Labyrinth itself, human contact had all but ceased for his people. Occasionally, a mortal could fill with so much longing that they inadvertently sent out a tiny burst of magic, a calling to the one who would best be able to answer it, but it was unlikely that the summoning would reach its destination anymore. And, even if by some miracle it did, it was highly unlikely that the call would be strong enough to lead the recipient back to the caller's origin.

That girl had done it. With only a few hours of life behind her, she had opened her new eyes and sent out the strongest calling he had ever felt in his long life. And it wasn't just that it had been a strong calling that intrigued him: it was that it had been a strong calling for him. He was a king, he was The King, and yet that tiny breath of life had demanded his presence.

It was unheard of, to say the least. Most scholars had agreed that the line of The Kings had always been gifted with greater power than the rest and were therefore immune to the call. What could such a small creature want so fiercely that the only one in all of existence with the ability to accommodate her was him? Not even the great Napoleon, who had wanted the entire world to bow before his might, had had the strength to send a calling to the King. But that small slip of a girl, the little Sarah, was summoning him with magic so pure and powerful that it felt like he was being bound in threads and ribbons of gold and sapphire.

If this was just so that he could tie her hair back, then the Cosmos was mocking him. Depression or no, he had better things to do than play hairdresser for a toddler.

Something in the back of his mind niggled at him, and he cursed. Toddler though she was, he was still intrigued. Whether she wanted it or not, she now had the focus of a very sharp and shrewd King centered on her. 'Let's see what makes your little heart beat, shall we?' he thought while twirling a small crystal in one hand.

For a brief moment of clarity, he gave pause, realizing he had gone from avenging his people and defending his honor to spying on a child whose existence was a mere blip compared to his own. Yes, the Great Stars were truly mocking him, but…

He caught his young mortal's smile through the reflection of a crystal, and was instantly filled with peace and warmth.

… it was worth it. For her.

He couldn't figure her out. Sarah was an enchanting girl and she shouldn't have been. Not to him, he was above such things. He enchanted mortals, not the other way around.

The King had gone four years between the first meeting and the second, but now he found he could barely get through the day without having checked on her at least once. His habit had started purely out of curiosity: she was a riddle to him, something that he could sit in a quiet room to think about and try to unravel when he was bored. But he existed in a constant state of boredom, and so his thoughts were consumed by her.

Why were they connected? Hours were spent pondering that mystery and his frustration only grew when he could reach no answer. So he started checking on her more often. She was already stealing so much of his time, what were a few more hours?

Curiosity gave way to studying; perhaps if he knew as much about her as possible an answer would eventually present itself. He created crystals with the sole purpose of watching Sarah, capturing scenes of her for him to play back as many times as necessary before he knew her well enough to draw conclusions. His patient calculation taught him many things: Sarah wrinkled her adorable little nose when she giggled, she liked lemon tea with almond biscuits, her best friend was a stuffed toad named Henry, she liked dressing dolls in brightly colored gowns, she wished that her hair had more curl than wave, she loved it when her mother hugged her, looking into mirrors sometimes frightened her, and…

Studying had given way to obsession.

She was seven now, and he was extremely aware that this was becoming unhealthy for him. He hadn't seen her in person since that day in the park many years ago, but there was no doubt that he knew her better than he knew himself. And still he had no answer to his riddle.

The crystal in front of him floated gently on a pocket of air, bobbing occasionally with his tumultuous thoughts. The tiny little Sarah reflected inside the smooth globe was sitting on a swing at a playground, alone. She always seemed to be alone, and it made him feel. Of course, it also made him feel when she was around other people, so either way he couldn't win. Still, it hurt that she lacked companionship right now. He longed to be the steady friend she could always turn to. She was bewitching and delightful, his Sarah.

She heaved a mighty sigh and kicked at the ground dejectedly. For a moment she appeared close to tears but, instead of crying, she spoke, "Once upon a time there was a little girl, who was sweet and fair, but she never had anyone to play with. She was alone." Sarah kicked at the ground again, drawing swirls in the dirt beneath her swing.

Suddenly, she perked up, inspiration hitting her. "She spent her afternoons dreaming of a far-off land where fairies and elves danced through ancient forests. She dreamt of the land where Prince Charming lived, waiting to sweep her off her feet, to rescue her from her boredom and loneliness." She consider something, then shook her head. "Not a prince, a king. He was a King of Goblins who would have the power to make her happy no matter what the cost."

It was the first time since he had learned to control his magic that he dropped a crystal by accident.

He was the King of many things, the Lord and Master of all that was Underground, but because of the nature of his dealings with mortals, humans chose only to focus on one of his more negative titles. He had been proud of that in the past, knowing that it would strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. Now he was simply worried.

Sarah knew him, beyond all logic and possibility she had dreamt of the Goblin King, of him. Apparently their connection ran deeper than he had suspected. But how? How was any of this possible?

Another mysterious layer was added to the puzzle that made up the young child.

Shock had not prevented him from keeping tabs on her. If anything, it only made him watch her more often. She told the best stories and, despite the inspiration that had struck on that swing a year ago, she had never mentioned a king again. Her stories were different now, happy; tales of danger and adventure, things to keep a young imagination occupied.

But there came a day in her eighth year when he found her curled up in the back of her closet, crying. His heart beat uncomfortably, his silky tongue stuck even as he longed to soothe her.

In the darkness of that tiny closet, she continued her abandoned story. "… and when the girl was sad because her parents didn't love each other anymore, he made it rain so that she wouldn't have to cry alone," she hiccuped on a sob. "And he made the flowers grow so that when she was exhausted of being sad, she would have something to smile about."

So he did, because she'd asked, because the sickly feeling in his chest demanded he grant these wishes. He gave her days when the wind howled and thunder crashed and rain came down in great flooding torrents. His theatrics were the best foul mood companions anyone could ask for. And when she finally seemed to perk up he grew little purple flowers on the trellis underneath her window, hoping that they might calm her with their peaceful scent.

He felt Sarah made it through that period of her life a little easier than he did. His comfort was all around her, but he was never satisfied with what he gave. Nothing was ever enough. He wanted to be there for her in person, to be able to wipe her tears away and make her smile. Instead, he had to content himself with sending bad weather and flowers. It had been what she had asked for, after all, what she had wanted, so he had forborne and simply done his best to fulfill her requests. She seemed happy enough with the result.

The fact that he wasn't didn't really matter.

For five years, Sarah and her father lived in relative peace, but the King could see the strain that her parents' divorce was putting on her; she had loved her mother dearly and had so little to remind herself of the woman. Her father'd had a tough time of the solitary life at first, but had found his luck once he had started courting again. The King would have wished the man many happy years with his new Lady if it weren't for the fact that Sarah hated her. And who could blame the girl, really? She had had the undivided attention of her father for so long that she wasn't used to having to share his time, and with another woman no less!

He could see the explosion coming a mile off. Her father had no intention of letting this woman slip through his fingers; he was courting for marriage. But Sarah didn't want to believe that there was anyone as perfect for him as her mother had been, so she held this newcomer in contempt.

Sarah was thirteen when he felt the familiar pull of her summons. And oh, how he wanted to go to her, but until he figured out what connected them he had decided to keep his distance. He pulled one of his crystals from the air and found her with an ease that less than a century ago would have frightened him. Sarah was stomping through the woods behind her house, kicking rocks and snapping twigs. She was a fine Fury, an angry and vindictive soul to match his own.

"…and when the girl was angry because her father was marrying the worst woman in the entire world, the Goblin King sent her a companion, a puppy, so that someone would always love her when he could not be there." He chose to ignore the fact that he never was there. If he focused on it he would be forced to rectify the situation, and he had a feeling she wasn't old enough to handle meeting him yet.

So he created her puppy, a little mop of a dog made of friendliness and affection; a friend for as long as she wanted him. She named him Merlin, after the great wizard, and for a while she was all smiles again.

But it couldn't last long. Married couples had a zest for procreation.

Her next calling came a year later, and he had to admit that he was surprised it hadn't come sooner.

Sarah was in her room this time, mangling an afghan blanket in her clenching and twirling hands. "…and when the girl was furious because her wicked stepmother was having a baby, he promised to create a spell that would bring them together. He would twist his land and build a mighty army so that no one could ever tear them apart."

He carefully pondered her words. Twist his land and build a mighty army? He had already done that! How could she know these things?

He had nothing to give her this time and it made him growl in annoyance. She had asked for him, in a round about way, but he simply couldn't grant her wish. This was a dangerous game she was starting to play: she had no idea what she was asking for, and the King was not widely known for his compassion. If she persisted in her wishes for him, he would not have the strength to deny her. And he was no saint; she would have to take him, darkness and all.

His little Sarah didn't have a clue what she was setting into motion.

He watched her suffer through the first few months after her half-brother was born. She couldn't adapt; she hadn't even accepted the presence of her step-mother yet, so there was no way she could grow accustomed to the baby. Her temper ran high and he found himself constantly frustrated, courtesy of their empathic connection. He was restless, didn't know what to do to make things better for her.

But he didn't have to pace for too long. As usual, his clever little girl gave him the answer.

"…and when the girl was enraged because her little brother was a spoiled brat and no one paid attention to her anymore, the doting King gave her The Words." Really, who was he to argue when, for the second time in only a few months, she asked for him?

So he gave her The Words; words that had struck such fear in her people, they had once been outlawed by penalty of death. He put them into a book for her, gave her both the good and the bad and waited to see what she would think of her Goblin King now. He could only hope she would say the one thing that could bring them together.