First Sight

Catspaw idled in the shadows, green/blue eyes glowing as he watched Irene sob. He was aching to comfort her, aching to take her by the shoulders and kiss away her tears, pushing her long red hair out of her eyes and smiling tenderly at her.

Of course, she would not smile back. She would never smile back, not until she was ready. She would shriek and scramble away from him, terrified at such a creature. Beauty among goblins meant nothing in this aboveground realm.

Irene lay within the Truce Circle, her thoughts far from goblins and underground kingdoms. She instead internally lamented the loss of her love, Peter. He was dead in her eyes, as dead as the love she had felt for him, which he had scorned. He had instead married that blonde floozy that was the daughter of the barkeeper, and had moved to southern Scotland, where his father owned a small tract of land. She wanted to be in Scotland with him, and prayed for God (or maybe the fairies that were said to live around the hill) to switch the floozy's spirit with hers. It had not happened, and thus he was dead to her. At least…that's what she told herself. In truth her heart was cracking open with desire for him, even as she sobbed beneath the stars.

A rustle in the bushes made her straighten, still crying. She wiped her face and whipped her head around, suddenly scared stiff.

Catspaw chuckled quietly at her unnecessary fears, and purposely twitched the bush once more. Dry leaves shifted in the shrubbery, and Irene jumped to her feet.

"Who's there? Show yourself, I implore you! I have no money on me!"

Catspaw decided to reveal himself to her, but made sure his cloak was secure. His ministrations of comfort would be marred by his goblin features, even if they showed just slightly.

"Maiden, why do you weep?" Irene, please stop crying. He's a fool to deny you.

"Good sir! I did not see you. I'm sure you don't want to hear my sad tale, as it will sound exceedingly trivial to you."

"Maiden, nothing you could say would be trivial. What is your name?" Of course I long to hear the story from you, though I already know it through watching from the shadows.

"My name is Irene, kind sir." And she curtsied, surprised that an unknown gentleman would show an interest in her.

"And now, dear Irene, why do you cry so? It's as if your heart is breaking in two!" Which I suppose it is. But she will never know of the man's folly, marrying a wench like that.

"A…a man I loved has abandoned and scorned me, kind sir. Please, won't you tell me your name?"

"I am called Catspaw."

"Catspaw? I've never heard of such a name."

"I come from a land quite different than yours." Though not as far away as you might think.

"You sound so dignified, and carry yourself so royally. Are you nobility, Sir Catspaw?"

"A prince, as a matter of fact." A King now, actually, since my father's death.

Irene did not expect this. She fell to the ground, groveling. "Your Highness!"

"No, never grovel to me, dearest Irene. Never to me."

"You sound as if you know me, Prince Catspaw." No longer groveling, but kneeling, Irene looked somewhat quizzically into his face, where she presumed his eyes were.

"I…I suppose I do know you, in a sense." He hesitated, nervous. While it would not really matter what she thought of him, he wanted her to trust him before he carried her off as his bride.

"Sire…you've been watching me, haven't you?"

A reeling shock went through him. "How did you know?"

She laughed without humor. "A little voice in my ear told me. And I suppose you're smitten with me, and want to drag me to your kingdom, where I will marry you, bear your heir, and live under lock and key for the rest of eternity." She said this in a sarcastic manner, as if such an idea was preposterous.

"You…hear voices?" Shaken, Catspaw wondered if the girl was psychic. He'd never had his intentions read so thoroughly before.

"Yes, but mother tells me not to heed them or tell anyone. She says that it'll scare off any prospect of marriage, and that I will be put in an asylum. So I stay silent and try to ignore them as best I can."

"What do they say?" Intrigued, Catspaw leaned in, his voice lowering to just above a whisper.

"Mostly they tell me things about people and what they feel. There are a few exceptions. Like…the man that scorned me, Peter. I heard nothing about him."

"How odd." Because he had no thoughts! How can you pine for such a stupid man?

The voices were a bit peculiar Catspaw had to admit, but that made Irene all the more special to him. She would be excellent in warding off those who sought to harm her, and she would know who meant her no ill will, despite their appearance. Perhaps she would begin to trust his subjects all the faster because of this. Perhaps she could help him judge criminals and disperse justice. She was invaluable to him.

Irene laughed. "Now they're telling me that you aren't human. You see why I cannot trust these voices, Catspaw? They have no weight behind their words."

"I think you should trust them. They probably will tell you the truth when no one else will." He impulsively took Irene's hands in his, and she flinched somewhat at the cold touch.

"Cold hands…"

"Warm heart." He finished the saying, a crooked smile springing up under his hood.

"Sire, I know this will sound incredibly rude, but," she paused, a little wary of angering him. "Could you remove the hood?"

Catspaw froze and dropped Irene's hands as if they had burned him. He shrunk away from her, afraid of her reaction. He did not want to hurt or scare her."Perhaps I should take you home." His voice quavered slightly; otherwise it was as if she had said nothing at all. Out of the darkness, a black charger appeared as a means of transport, and Catspaw silently saddled it.

The wounded silence cut through Irene. Maybe he was disfigured and wished for her not to know. Maybe he had been scarred in battle or splashed with corrosive acid. She felt terrible, and a fresh sniffle escaped, this time out of sympathy for this man and not out of self pity.

"I do apologize, Y-your Highness. I didn't mean to offend you. Please forgive me." Irene put her hand on Catspaw's tense shoulder, and felt him slump in defeat.

"It is not your fault, sweet Irene. I…do not want to frighten you, but I am not what I seem." Catspaw mounted his charger, and pulled Irene up to sit before him. He pulled her up so effortlessly, she almost felt light-headed.

"You're not? What are you then?" Irene turned to Catspaw, and tried to see past the hood, but it was very dark, and Catspaw turned his face to further impede her.

"I am something out of this realm."

"Oh." And Irene fell silent once more. For several minutes there was nothing but the sound of horse hooves and the wind, howling through the trees. It was very late indeed, but Irene knew only to slip in the back door and pretend she had been asleep the entire time. Her parents only rarely checked on her, and they would surmise that she had simply taken a nap in the afternoon and that she hadn't left her room since.

"Irene," Catspaw let the word hang for a while, finally breaking the quiet between them. "What do you think of me? I know we've only just met, and I sound terribly forward and all, but—"

"You're kind." His babbling ceased effectively and he waited for more. "You listen. You care an awful lot for appearances and first impressions, and you fear scaring me."

"Voices again?"

"A little. At least, the last bit. But something else tells me that you are a very good soul. Too good to live, almost." Irene briefly flashed back to when her sister had died. It had been something her mother said often afterwards, making Irene feel all the worse.

"You shouldn't say that…wishing death is the surest way to die."

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it like that!" He was right: it was horrible to say, and she should have kept her fat mouth shut. "I would never wish for your death, Cats--, I mean, Sire."

"You can call me Catspaw, I won't mind. None of my subjects use my full title, except in front of strangers and when I need reminding. I'm still new to this. You see, I lied somewhat to you, sweet Irene. I'm not really a prince. At least, not anymore."

"You mean…"

"I'm King Marak Catspaw. At least, that's what I should be. I'm not much of a King yet, and I'm not used to being Marak either. It's a name my people use in place of 'ruler', but my father fit it far too well for me to take it as my own just yet. It's only been a year since he and my mother died. He was Marak Sixfinger."

"How did they die? Your parents, that is." Irene chose to ignore the Sixfinger bit. He was foreign, and maybe his people had stranger names than she had initially thought.

"My mother wanted to give my father another child, she loved him so. It has always been the lot of my people to have one offspring, and one only. Especially among the higher class." The beast class is something altogether different. "But my father could deny her nothing, so they tried. She died in childbirth, and Marak killed himself in sorrow. Truly, nothing could separate those two. They were always together, and I was always with them."

Irene's heart cried out for him. "I'll bet you miss them so."

"I do. But they would want me to carry on, and I still have Til and Aunt M. Til's my adopted sister. Her full name is Matilda, but she hates it. She's the stronger of us two, even if is, uh, foreign." Catspaw struggled for another word besides 'human'. He still wanted to conceal the true nature of himself and his "people" a bit longer.

They had reached the Hill Lodge, and Catspaw helped Irene dismount.

"Won't you come in for a while? You must be tired."

"Not the voices informing you again, I hope." Catspaw chuckled lightly to show he was joking. "No, you're right, I am tired, but I have to leave you now." He would not kidnap her yet. He could wait another day, and besides, he wanted her to trust him. If he did not take her to her home as promised, she would hold it against him. They were still strangers, and the best way to win her heart was to remain thus…at least for a little while longer. His advisors were urging him to snatch her up already (she had long reached her sixteenth year), but he had known her most of her life. He could wait a day or two more.

"Will you come back?"

"Yes. I will most certainly return, perhaps when you least expect me."

Irene approached him slowly. Her eyes searched for his own, longing to see his face at last. The voices compelled her so, and he himself had told her to trust them above all else. She stood before him, innocently, stalling ever so slightly. Then, the hood was off!

Irene yelped in fear, and fell back onto the ground screaming. In a flash, Catspaw was off, racing down the hill pell-mell, kicking his horse violently in the sides, urging it to go ever faster away from her, away from his ruined plans.

Irene would never forget that first sight, he knew, and he cursed in Goblin under his breath.

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Author's Note: Okay, just for the record, I am not Clare B. Dunkle, and furthermore, I have not read past the first book in the Hollow Kingdom trilogy (although I loved that first book so!). Please excuse any inaccuracies. I don't know if Catspaw is all grown up and married by the last book, and until I do, I like the idea of Irene: completely human, through and through, but endowed with psychic powers that aid in her struggle against the new Goblin King. I also could not for the life of me figure out how Goblin Kings die, seeing as they're practically immortal and all, and the thought of romantic suicide seemed to me something Marak would do. I apologize if this is also inaccurate or out of character. ;;

Also, another just for the record: Irene's namesake is the Irene from The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald.