I love my people, they keep me human. Or at least, that is what I tell myself. The truth is something different. They keep me attached to the child my parents raised. They tried to raise me to be a good man, even though as a changeling robbed of the power that was my birthright, I still had inside me the instincts of a goblin. The murder machine of the Unseelie Fey. The killer of immortals. When my twin died and both my own stolen magic returned, and my “brother’s” elven magic, I wrapped myself so hard in the memory of the human I thought I was, but Fairy can speak no lie, and I named myself Goblin King.

A King in Fairy is bound to his vassals, as they are bound to him. I may give them such freedom as my rule is all but unnoticed by them, save in my protection, but the bonds are woven in blood and the black thorns of the Unseelie. Unbreakable, inescapable, and pitiless. They bound me as much as they bound that which was mine, and that which was mine was being usurped.

I was working on removing blood from the cash we had taken off the Hand protected dealers who had dared to put a distribution center in my neighborhood. They would never find the bodies, but the cash would find a good home and better use with my people. I had a rather uncomplicated joy in counting my loot. Say what you will, the spoils of war are sacred to the fey, both light and dark. Fairly stolen is a thing for us, and it is almost as good as the violence that got it. I felt a pull suddenly, as if someone tried to rip a part of me away. I felt someone, something, force an Authority over one of mine!

My glamour dropped, my eyes burned and an inhuman snarl tore from my lips. Without thought or word, I tore to the rooftop and launched myself into the night towards where I could feel something try to take one of mine from my Authority. This was the most primal of challenges, to take what is mine, to put your will upon one who is vassal to me is to question my right to Kingship. This could end only in submission or blood. Fairy was a cold place of absolutes. There was precious little mercy in it, and when you were king, even less.

I saw Jacob, he worked as a cleaner for a firm that I now controlled (it used to belong to Madame Gao, but she ceded it to me as an alternative to outright war when her immortal Hand Ninja stopped coming back from the dead when I ate their hearts). Jacob used to be “street entrenched” but my blood and glamour broke his addiction, and given people that gave a crap, he turned his life around quickly. He was a good worker, and a good man. Or he was; now he was a zombie. Not a literal zombie, but he staggered out from the building he was cleaning, along with the rest of his two cleaning crew, wide eyed and blank faced, muttering “leave her alone” again and again.

Someone had laid a compulsion on them so strong it warred with my own. I placed my hands on Jacob and drove my will into his. Black thorns of power flowed from my hands and penetrated his skull. He screamed, and screamed, then his eyes cleared. He saw me, his arms grabbed my chest and he sputtered as if trying to force his mouth to work.

“The girl. The roof. She’s going to kill herself. Don’t let her talk. Her voice……” His eyes teared, remembering his will being taken again, of being enslaved again, not to drugs this time, but the brute force of someone’s will. Sure I did it to him, but I did it to place control back In his hands, and that bitch just tore it away again. She wanted to die? I can make that happen.

I charged up the building, not the stairs. It was faster, and I could give a shit if the building got scarred. My Authority was challenged, and my people were hurt. This could not be born. I got to the roof and leaped onto it in a crouch, my snarl sounding like a wolverine’s shriek.

A girl, a young woman, perhaps just graduated or a year past, mousy brown hair in tangles, eyes red from tears and blazing in madness. She turned to me and her voice called out.

[STOP. GO BACK. YOU DID NOT SEE ME.] The voice she used echoed in my head, again and again, waves of the eternal sea washing against my mind, seeking to wash away my thoughts, my feelings, my desires, my memories, my very self and leave only her words. The power in them would bend any mortal that it caught, could bend even a goblin or fairy knight to her will.

I was no knight, I was King.

I left a glamour of myself, and covered my own self in shadow, crossing to her in an eyeblink that she will see as instant. I had her by the throat, my claws digging in and silencing her, my claws poison already working to weaken her nerves, weaken her voice, a heartbeat away from opening her neck to the spine and removing her threat forever.

“Did you think a Siren was enough to bind me? I am the Goblin King, and you DARED to use your power on one of my people, to take from him a mind he paid so dearly to win back. You do not command here. I command here. You kneel, or you die.” This was the way of fairy, this was the way of kings. It was not a matter for choice or debate, to be a King in fairy meant that challenges could only end in submission or blood.

“Kill me then. I cannot keep running. They always find me. The shapeshifter woman. The toad, the beast. They mean to make me a slave, and use my voice to make more slaves for them. I would rather die. I came here to die. Just end it.” She said, and her voice was empty of everything but despair. I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, until another voice called out.

“She belongs to the Brotherhood. Our Master sent us to recover her. If you resist, you die.” A voice came from the darkness, sailing towards the roof as if it was stepping onto a curb. He was misshapen bandy legged, hunched, and his throat bulged with the elongated tongue that filled it obscenely. I am assuming this was the Toad she spoke of.

“We have no quarrel with you. You are clearly a fellow mutant. Give her to us, and perhaps a place for you can be found as well.” The one who spoke now strutted from the shadows, wearing the face of a woman who could have been this one’s mother. Of course, as an apex predator, I could read the tells. She was on the hunt. She was moving wrong. The shape of the body was a poor match to her stride. Whatever her outward shape, she was more physically capable. It was a common shapeshifter mistake. They couldn’t help but strengthen their body, boost their speed, when they felt they were close to battle. Fairy was full of such creatures, and my instincts could spot them.

The last one clawed his way up the side of the roof as I had, not as fast, but as strong. He was blonde, about two feet taller than me, and thick with it. Sabertooth. Ah, that made the shapeshifter Mystique, and the Toad, well, Toad. The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. I mean, who goes ahead and calls themselves a brotherhood of evil? So the girl was not Fey, but mutant. I guess nature just decided Sirens were just too cool not to have their own. Why not? It is possible some of the Fairy blood was mixed generations back, and she is just expressing some of that old Siren blood, only modern people call it mutation.

“Give the prey to us, little man, and I might not kill you today.” Sabertooth growled, flexing his claws.

“Don’t let them take me. Kill me.” She begged.

I was the Goblin King, but why did I name myself such? I named myself such to protect the little people from forces they had no chance against. From monsters worse than myself. I looked her in the eye and spoke, my own power filling my voice in answer to her own.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

[Kneel and swear to me, or die. Kneel to me, and no power on earth can touch you. Kneel to me, and you will never need to fear them again.] There were two endings to her challenge, submission, or blood. She came up here because she saw two choices, slavery to them, or death. I know of one more. If she dares.

She knelt, and from my claws, a black thorn tattoo burned itself into her neck, marking her as mine.

Toad’s tongue shot out quick as any arrow, but goblin’s catch arrows for sport, and I am way faster than your average goblin. I tossed him off the roof, pumping the paralytic poison I microdosed the girls throat with into Toad, making his tongue numb enough to be hard to control. How he fared going off the rooftop was his problem. Mistique chose to pull back and observe, Sabertooth was already charging. I charged to meet him.

We met in an explosion of fang and claw, like two beasts. He had the reach advantage, and mass. I was faster and just as strong. I tore great chunks out of him, and he of me. We tore at each other like ravening beasts, howling our hate and fury as we clashed. He healed as fast as I did, and he laughed, showing the great rent in his bicep where the muscle dangled free, as he poked it back into place, and watched it heal. I tasted his blood, and my body learned it.

“You cut deep, little green freak, but you can’t kill me. I am immortal, and you ARE FOOD!” He charged again, letting himself go berserk.

In his fury, he rammed face first into the chimney. He didn’t notice it was only an illusion of me. I cut both his hamstrings, and the tendons on the back of his left elbow.

“Big, strong, and stupid. Just like I like my prey. I am not a freak or a mutant. I am the Goblin King, and my kind exist to do only one thing. To kill immortals.” My voice came from right behind him, so he whirled his good arm through where I should be, where he could smell and hear me.

I kicked him in the jaw, then tore my claws across his belly, not enough to spill his guts, but deep enough into the muscle that he knew another strike would spill them.

“Pathetic animal. Instinct is all you have. Instinct is for prey. Hunters think. Hunters plan. Hunter’s kill.” I laughed, letting my glamour split me into multiples as Sabertooth’s fury caused him to strike out wherever his enhanced senses caught my scent, the flicker of movement, the shimmer of heat. It was unfair, with his rage ruling him, his enhanced senses made him almost helpless against me. I can’t hide from his level of sensitivity, but I can give him so many false positives that the real me is just not moving fast enough to trigger the primary threat response. Always he lashes out at the greatest threat.

It has turned into a bullfight. Drive the bull mad with pain, then casually kill it. My claws are putting necrotic poison into him. His flesh rots, filling him with poisons that cloud his mind, foul his blood, make every breath feel like it contains less and less oxygen. His healing factor is obscene, better than mine, but my biology is that of the Unseelie Fey’s greatest hunter. I have tasted his blood, and my body produces a poison to combat his healing.

If he took a moment to think, he would sense what was happening, and with his power and speed, he could perhaps use his reach and sheer mass advantage to take me out. Bigger is better. Do not kid yourself. In a fight between equal speed and skill, the bigger one wins. Nature is awfully cruel about its favoritism, but I am crueler.

I cut his eyes, I only get one, but the fear of being blinded is real. He leaps back, and I roll between his legs, getting my claws into his junk. Spandex is stupid in a fight. What is with superheroes and villains. Sure I am proud of the size of my junk too, but I am wearing a cup, and leather pants that are reinforced for protection not style. Eyes and balls, two primal fears, and Sabertooth isn’t the picture of mental stability at the best of times. His already rage filled attack loses what was left of its control and explodes into a speed and savagery I have never seen.

We trade claws and boots, I get three to his one, but I heal slower and he hits harder. Sure I am as strong, but he has more mass behind it so that really translates into how deeply his punches drive into me. He slams me to the ground, and goes to kick my head, but I trick him again with glamour, and he swings beside where I actually landed and I get my fangs into the back of his thigh as I fold him into a leg lock.

He has the power and mass to throw me off, but I dump my whole mouth load of necrotic venom into him, and let him throw me away when he bucks his body to throw me off.

I roll to my feet, and he tries to roll to his. I grab the arm he swings at me, and rip it from shoulder to elbow, opening the artery, and letting it spray. It isn’t healing fast enough, and the blood loss is getting to him. He throws an elbow into my gut and I double over, only to sink my fangs into the side of his neck and tear out a bleeding mouthful. Moon and tree, I wish I hadn’t spent all my venom on his thigh, if I got it into the carotid I just ripped, he would be down already, but healing slow and bleeding out, his blood pressure dropping from the neck vessels, he is weak. I bend him backwards and drive my clawed hand beneath his sternum to grip his heart.

“STOP!” Yells Mystique. She has abandoned her disguise and now looks like a blue skinned demoness with a belt of skulls. It’s an edge look, but I would bang her (give me a break, combat makes me primal).

“If you kill him, I will kill her.” Mystique shouts.

“Then I kill you, then that French kissing froggy twerp. I go home and get my nails done.” I grin, closing my hand on Sabertooth’s heart and squeezing, feeling his body trying to heal, as my claws dumped a little more poison into his heart, racing his healing factor with the induced heart failure as we debate me ripping it out, and devouring his heart and soul, ending his brutish and probably pointless existence.

“Let him go, and I will let her go.” Mystique shouted, the Toad crawling up the fire escape to huddle behind her, holding his tongue in both hands.

“Not enough. You will swear upon your Master’s name that the girl is and will always be mine. None of his will ever raise a hand against her. None of his will ever speak a word of her existence to another. None of his will come against me or mine.” I demanded, squeezing and making the half conscious Sabertooth moan in pain.

“Magneto will be master of the whole world, and mutants like us will rule it!” Mystique shouted.

“The rest of it, maybe. But this neighborhood, these people, and this girl are mine.” I told her.

“So be it, fool. I so swear, in the name of Magneto, Master of Magnetism.” Mystique swore.

“So mote it be.” I swore, dropping the shuddering, panting, and still healing beast known as Sabertooth. That one needed killing, but given his nature, he would keep charging forward until he found it. I was here for the girl. That was enough.

I took the girl downstairs, giving the Brotherhood of just got my ass kicked, time to lick their wounds and slink off in peace. She looked at me, and finally spoke.

“So what now, you use me instead of them?” She said, the power in her voice swirling against me, but washing off me like waves off a cliff face.

“No kiddo. Now you can figure out how to get a handle on your power, so you only use it when you want. Don’t worry. You swore fealty to me. You are mine to command, and you are under my protection. All who wear that brand are under my protection. You can speak to them and NOT worry about your words accidentally commanding them. You can learn how to speak without fear. You can learn to use it gently to suggest, to nudge people to de escalate conflicts, to keep yourself and others safe without mind raping anyone. And you can learn how to dial it up to max, and you will be able to drown all the sailors you want, and get the Republican Party to put on a drag show at their next convention, but you will do it by choice, not by accident.”

She giggled. I guess the image was a bit much.

“What is your name anyway? I can’t just keep calling you Siren, or I will have to get you a mask and a spandex suit.” I asked her.

“Ruth. Ruth Ginsberg.” She said softly.

“Well Ruth Ginsberg, you can call me Nick Condon. Lets go get some Chinese Food. I just lost a ton of blood, and I have the taste of an unwashed steroid freak in my mouth.”

I keep my voice light, to keep her calm, but inside me, the feeling of Sabertooth’s heart in my hand has me hungering to follow his scent, to finish the challenge, to finish the kill. I was born to kill immortals, and Sabertooth is such a creature. I hungered to hunt him down, to follow the sent that fills my senses, to drown myself in the blood I still taste. I hunger to eat his heart and soul more than I hunger for a woman or my next breath. I am the Goblin King, I am the monster that protects my people, but make no mistake, I am still a monster.