The hunts began soon after she had defeated the Goblin King and returned home with her brother. Fey had pursued her as a trophy – she was so unique a prize, that the one who could catch her would be renowned until even the Underground faded into memory. She was lucky that she had found a teacher, or rather, that he had found her. He had come to her on the street and merely said, "I know you are hunted. I know why you are hunted. I can train you to fight. I can train you to think. Come with me now, and we will begin." He was not fey, not demonic. He was a mortal, touched by something otherworldly; like her. She could feel the sensation of magic on his skin, now that she had come back from the labyrinth.

She had never known her grandfather had this kind of power.

Her grandfather trained her in everything he promised, and more. It had only been sheer luck that had allowed her to stay alive as long as she had. Intense training allowed the frequent hunts to become a normalcy in her life – they had become something to be dealt with, not hide from. She could defeat most of her adversaries, but it was the fey that proved to be her most difficult challenge. A single fey was hard, three fey were almost impossible, but when they hunted in packs, only her grandfather could send them away.

He had been sick on the night she was taken. She had left the house that they shared to drive out a hunter in her woods. She had believed it to be a single, weak fey. She was wrong. There had been six of them at the beginning, but through absolute panic and luck, her adrenaline had held them at bay for half of the night. They were the most extraordinary fighters she had ever seen – only adrenaline had allowed her to fend them off. She could not destroy any of them; they were too fast, too strong. Once the reinforcements had come, she fought with all she knew, but they had proved too much.

The world around her narrowed and warped, eliminating all lives but hers and that of the Goblin King. Thundered heartbeats measured her time as slowly, achingly graceful, the King stood from his throne. A feral smile emerged from his lips, lighting his eyes with pleasure at his new gift. Her body was covered in tight black, a fighting outfit. Her dark, wavy hair was wild from the night's fighting and spilled over her shoulders to come to the middle of her back. Her face was radiant. Emerald eyes and red lips drew the King's eyes around the face of the mortal that had defied him. Soon, she would defy him no longer.

He was dressed in breeches, a white shirt and a black jacket that played of the black and silver accents on his hair. Long black boots encased his legs, completing the ensemble.

Sarah was on fire. Anger flared to cloud her vision, panic seized her limbs as he began to stalk towards her, and gods, her heart cried in despair as her body tightened at the sight of him. Only the Goblin King could make her burn like this. She wanted to slap him, she wanted to run. What terrified her was that most of all, she wanted to bite the buttons off his shirt and slowly pull the clothes from his body. Sarah was trembling, but gods be damned if she would let him know it.

"It has been a long time Sarah." His voice tore through her, and her eyes shot back up to his.

"Not long enough." Her voice was angry, laced with venom. The crowd around her gasped at her words – who was she to speak like that to the King? Her body tensed, she waited for the retribution for her actions, but his smile only became wider.

"It is nice to see you after so long." His eyes flashed while his voice wrapped around her, and peirced her skin with painful little slashes. She had crossed the line, she knew. A sharp smile appeared on her own red mouth.

"Believe me, the pleasure is yours."

The smirk was wiped off her face as the King's anger roared at her, his power forcing her to kneel on the floor before him.

"A pet should always beware his master, especially when there is so much riding on her actions." She froze. He wouldn't. By the gods themselves…he wouldn't. Her eyes locked onto his, lowered to his cruel smile, then followed his outstretched hand to see them. Toby was lashed with thick rope into a permanent kneeling position. He was gagged, with a purple bruise covering his right eye. His clothes were torn, blood was everywhere.

Her grandfather looked much, much worse. He had used his magicks against them – and they had retailiated in turn. Blood covered his face, and power burns crawled up his arms and chest. His clothes were in bare rags, and as she lowered her eyes, she could tell that his leg had been broken.

Rage. Pure, undiluted rage coursed through her veins. She would kill those who had hurt them. Distantly, her mind told her that she was still under the vice of the Goblin King, but as she watched the guards drag her loved ones roughly across the floor she snapped. Simultaneously, she placed her both blades in her left hand and slid a dagger from the sheath in her boot.

"Fuck you. Fuck you Goblin King." It came as a whisper, but she knew he understood.

As the dagger flew from her hand, the room erupted in chaos.