Arthur leaned against the worn handle of his hoe, sweat running down his temple as the goblin labored a few paces away, hauling bundles of firewood with clumsy persistence. The creature grunted, its small green body stooped under the weight, yet it obeyed every command without hesitation. Arthur smirked faintly—having a worker who never complained was almost luxurious compared to the villagers.
But his mind wandered. If I want this to go anywhere… I'll need more than one. A single goblin won't build an empire. I need offspring, a brood. A line.
The thought stuck to him, heavy and unsettling. He wiped his brow with the back of his arm, watching the goblin stumble, catch itself, and continue. A female… that's what I need. But do they even exist?
He had heard plenty of stories growing up—songs sung by drunkards around the fire, whispers shared between boys daring each other to wander too far into the woods. And always, goblins were spoken of as monsters, raiders, parasites. Never once had anyone spoken of goblin women.
Arthur leaned harder on the hoe, staring at the dirt. So what is it then? Do they sprout out of the ground like weeds? Hatch from eggs buried in caves? Or… is that the reason they always take human women?
The thought curdled in his stomach. He spat into the soil, his face tightening with contempt. "Disgusting little bastards," he muttered under his breath. "But if that's how it works… if that's how they multiply… then maybe that's exactly what I need to bend."
The goblin, oblivious to his master's turmoil, dropped the woodpile with a grunt and looked up, waiting for the next order. Arthur's lips twisted into a humorless smile. "No females, huh? Figures. That means if I want a brood… I'll have to make one."
His eyes flickered with calculation. A farmer's mind, weighing soil, seed, and yield. Only this time, the crop was darker, fouler—and far more dangerous.
The goblin dropped the log it was dragging, the thud echoing across the yard. Arthur had just been lost in his own thoughts, calculating, weighing, turning ideas over like a merchant with rotten grain. His hands tightened around the hoe, when a broken sob cut through the air.
"Arthur…"
He turned. Merlin stood at the edge of the field, her hair tangled, her face pale from sleepless nights. Her eyes were swollen red, cheeks streaked with salt. She looked as though she'd been hollowed out, yet her voice clung to desperation.
"Please," she whispered, stumbling forward, almost falling into the dirt. "Please don't cast me away. I can't—" she swallowed hard, her chest heaving with hiccupped breaths—"I can't live without you. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Just don't… don't hate me."
Arthur said nothing. He watched her collapse onto her knees, hands trembling, clawing at her own dress as if it were choking her. She tore at the fabric, dragging it over her shoulders until it slipped down her arms, baring skin pale and vulnerable.
"Look," she pleaded, voice breaking as tears streamed again. "I'll give you everything. I'll prove it. Just… let me stay by you. Please, Arthur, I'm nothing without you."
Arthur's jaw tightened, and the weight in his chest didn't soften—it curdled. He looked at her naked, fragile form, once something that might have stirred tenderness in him. Now, it was only rot to his eyes. His lip curled.
He felt no desire, no pity. Only disgust.
But then—movement.
From the corner of his vision, he caught it. The goblin, crouched by the stack of wood, its beady yellow eyes fixed entirely on Merlin. Its mouth was slightly open, a string of spit clinging to its teeth. The hunger in its gaze was raw, feral.
Arthur froze. Not out of shock, but realization. He followed that stare, and suddenly the world shifted.
Merlin on her knees, stripped and pleading. The goblin's chest rising, falling with rapid breaths, that primal hunger alive in its eyes.
Arthur's disgust twisted into something colder, sharper. His mind began to spin again—not with pity, not with anger—but with calculation.
Arthur didn't move at first. His knuckles were white around the handle of the hoe, the wood biting into his palm as though urging him to decide.
Merlin knelt in the dirt, broken, trembling, her tears falling into the soil like rain. She reached for him again, but her hands stopped halfway, suspended in the air as though invisible chains held them back.
And behind her, the goblin's breath rasped louder, animal, impatient. Its body leaned forward, shoulders tense, every inch of it straining toward the sight before it.
Arthur's jaw ticked. The urge to spit at the ground burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it back. His mind whirred, cold and practical.
One goblin can't build me a brood. But what if… what if she could?
His eyes lingered on Merlin, not with love, not even with hate anymore, but with a cruel clarity. She was begging to be useful. And for the first time, he saw a way she might be.
"Anything I want?" he asked at last, his voice low, controlled.
Her head shot up, desperate hope sparking in her swollen eyes. "Yes! Anything, Arthur. I swear it—just don't push me away. Please."
The goblin grunted, shifting its weight, claws dragging over the dirt. Its gaze never left her bare skin.
Arthur finally let go of the hoe. It dropped into the furrowed soil with a dull thud. He stepped closer, his shadow falling over Merlin, and leaned down just enough that his words brushed like frost against her ear.
"Then prove it."
Her breath caught, her lips trembling, as though she expected warmth—some gesture, some redemption. But what she saw instead, when she followed the tilt of his head, was the goblin, crouched and hungry, saliva glistening at its jaw.
Her eyes widened, confusion flooding into terror.
Arthur's gaze was hard, unflinching. "You say it wasn't betrayal. You say it wasn't sex. Fine. Then show me. Show me what you are."
The words hung heavy, darker than any curse.
Merlin's tears slowed, but her body shook all the harder. The goblin's chest heaved with anticipation, its yellow eyes blazing as if it understood the unspoken command.
Arthur only straightened, arms folding across his chest, and waited.