I do not have any rights to the Snow White with the Red Hair franchise or any of the characters except my OC. This story takes place after season 2 of the anime. I have taken certain liberties with the characters so please excuse anything that may seem out of character. I hope you enjoy my first attempt at a fanfic!

I was looking into the eyes of a predator. Sure, I'd faced many dangers before this, and I came out relatively intact. Just a few scars on my back and arms from my early years.

However, this particular scenario was more dangerous. The previous trials I had faced rarely made me question my survival. This hunter, however, had the capability to kill me.

Of course, it was my failure that led to this predicament. I'd heard the stories and forewarnings but chose to ignore them believing my skills would allow me to complete my mission without harm. Now that I faced the monster, I truly understood my position. If I wanted to beat such a creature, I would have to unleash my own monster. The one that only desires blood and its own survival. I'd fought for four years to rid myself of my inner beast, and I had no desire to surrender to it now.

As I gather my wits and brace for battle, I suddenly hear a slight swish of fabric behind me. I quickly maneuver into a position to face my new attacker while keeping the first predator in sight. As I take in the image of a young guard (young enough to be recruited yesterday) coming toward me, I realize I have been fooled. I feel three sharp stabs in my body: one in my leg, one in my knife arm, and one at the base of my neck.

Then, everything went black.

I was caught in a haze somewhere between the dream world and reality. I dreamt of how I met my father or at least the closest thing I had to one. I've never met my blood father and had no desire ever to do so unless it was to greet what was left of his heart with the tip of my blade.

I'd been born to a religious woman. She couldn't have been older than 16 when she had me. I was not conceived by choice but by force from a man who did not know my mother's name. She would have kept me if I had not been cursed with my father's eyes, the eyes of the devil. One as dark as the mud scattered in the streets and the other as blue as the sky on a clear day. His eyes were the only thing my mother could see that night I was conceived. They haunted her nightmares for nine months before she saw them in the face of a baby she did not even want.

She tried to move past it and be the good religious woman her family would have wanted. She kept me until the age of 4. Four long years she agonized over the child that only reminded her of her pain and proceeded to remind that child of it every single day. Part of me is angered she would be so selfish and wished she had seen me for the child I was. A larger part, however, sympathizes for the woman. I think in the end, the trauma drove her to insanity.

Just when her mind was about to break, my father swooped in to save the day. I wish I could say it was a happy ending, but it was only the beginning of something far worse. He offered to take care of me far away from her sight. He even offered to pay for me like I was livestock that could be bought and sold. She pounced at the chance to gain money and get me out of her sight with relatively little guilt on her part.

As I was carted off to what would soon be my personal hell, I couldn't help looking back hoping that just once that my mother would show some concern for me beyond moral obligation. She was already gone.

I felt a pounding in my skull like never before. It was like a legion of war horses decided to collectively stomp their hooves on top of my head. I let out a soft grunt of pain without even realizing it. I tried to move my hands to massage my temples when I felt resistance and heard a soft clank. I used what little strength I had left to peel my eyes open. It was relatively dark so the light didn't blind me at least.

As my eyes adjusted, I realized I was in a cell shackled to a wall. The chains had enough length to them that I could lay on the ground easily and get within three feet of the cell door if I stretched them to their full length. The door itself was quite impressive. A solid chunk of metal with a few small hatches that could be opened from the outside to toss in food or just peek into the cell. The only source of light was from a torch outside the room that filtered in through a small grate at the top of the door.

Once I gathered my bearings, I heard a muffled voice almost like a whisper trickle through the door.

"The sharpshooter went a little overboard with the tranquilizer darts. Three were enough to down an elephant. Glad you are finally awake."

The voice was a rather pleasant male voice and was soft enough not to bother my head. A shocking discovery in a place such as this. I picture the giant creature known as an elephant in my head. Most commoners wouldn't have heard of the creature before, much less know what it looks like. The only reason I know is because my father insisted on an education. You wouldn't be a good mercenary if you couldn't blend in with the locals.

I knew better than to reveal my knowledge to this stranger so quickly. If he had suspected me to be a commoner, he would have said something along the lines of downing multiple horses. I decided instead to ask a question in return.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Three days."

Three days?! A simple statement set to condemn me. My father would not be pleased that I had been gone so long. No excuse short of death would save me from his wrath and my impending punishment. My scar count would likely go up.

I try to remain nonchalant while I continue fishing for more information, but my questions are continually met with silence.

"Why am I being held here?"

"Will I have a trial?"

On and on I ramble off questions to the point I am sure the other person has left out of annoyance. In a desperate effort to get some type of response, I quickly ask the voice "What is your name?". I sit in silence for what seems like eternity before I hear the voice whisper back.

"Obi"

When I glance up in surprise from hearing the response, my eyes meet those of the predator.