Pouring himself a glass of brandy, he sat in one of his wingback chairs, sipping the tawny liquid slowly, allowing it to bathe his throat. He was beyond satisfied with himself. Toying with a person’s mind could be almost erotic if you did it just the right way, and as it were, watching Sarah flee home as if a monster had her heels gave him the same sanguine rush which often preceded his more carnal conquests. Or it could have been the liquor. Either way, he took to kicking up his feet and congratulating himself with a drink.
Reminiscing, he sighed. “You’re no match for me Sarah.” He’d spat that same phrase at her early on in their first meeting. How different it would be were he to meet her now. His demeanor, his wardrobe. He was sleeker, more intimidating, stiff and exceedingly cold. Rather than stand around and chat doing little glamours with snakes and scarves, the Goblin King would have stood impressively at the entrance to her parents’ room, elucidate the rules, mention imminent death a time or two and that would be it. She would be left alone to figure and fend the rest of the way on her own.
Had he found Hoggle running to her aid as the dwarf was apt to do then, he’d have killed him right before the girl’s eyes, making his nature even more prevalent to her. Forget her other friends, the fox and the beast, they wouldn’t be an issue. His new creatures wouldn’t foolishly offer their assistance to any mortal for fear he would slit them open too. The ship he ran now was a tight one for certain and at his side Arven dealt with the details the king overlooked.
Perhaps there would have been no waiting around for her to realize what he had tried to patiently reveal to her. With all the annoying pests gone, maybe he’d have taken her there, in the tunnels radiating from the oubliette. After all she seemed free enough with her affections when it came to above world men. She’d known what, exactly, about Ashton before inviting him to spend the night?
“I’d love to see her try and run it now,” Jareth sneered, his closed eyes parallel to the ceiling.
Arven’s question jolted his head out of it’s comfortable recline. “What?” he asked.
“You’d love to see whom try and run it now?” his second repeated.
“No one. Never mind.” the king barked. “Don’t you think you should knock before entering the bed chamber of your king?”
Bowing to show his respect, Arven told Jareth that he had knocked, several times. “You did not answer my liege. I came in to be sure you were safe.”
“Yes, well, as you can see I am quite fine.” Raising his glass, Jareth toasted his second in command before asking, “What do you mean by disturbing me at this hour?”
“I’ve got the most recent numbers your majesty, and I think you will be most pleased.” Stepping forward he handed a scroll to the king. “Care to have a look?”
Rolling his eyes, he accepted the parchment. “Arven, why are we not going over this by daylight, in my office?”
“Have a look your highness and I’m sure you will experience the same unleashed elation which made postponing this news until morning impossible.”
A raise of his brow and curl of his lip showed the king’s doubt, but fully aware he would have no peace until he examined the figures thrust at him, the Goblin King set down his now empty brandy glass and unrolled the report. “Mmmm,” he said in surprise, “acquisitions up 30%, deaths up 15%, a nice decline in the number of wish makers who choose to attempt the labyrinth in the first place. Ah,” he sighed looking innocent, “I am so very good at what I do. I told you we didn’t need to bother republishing those idiotic books.” Lazily he flicked the report back in Arven’s direction. “Have you come to do anything other than stroke my ego?”
“In fact,” Arven said tucking the scroll in his interior breast pocket, “I have.”
Motioning for him to sit, Jareth put his feet on the ground and straightened his posture. With a nod he gave his assistant a look which asked for what that might be.
Clearing his throat before he began, Arven stated, “Hear me out before you make any objection.”
“An opening like that will make me end this conversation before I begin it.”
“Apologies your majesty. I know the subject I am about to bridge is a sensitive one.”
“I am not a sensitive immortal Arven, bridge what you will so I may enjoy some rest this night.”
“Yes your majesty. As you know, I’ve made it my mission to make the maze as unsolvable as possible.”
“And you have done that much well, as far as I can tell.”
“Many thanks sire.” He bowed gracefully. “What I’d like to do, if you’ll have a hand in it, is to make the maze fully insolvable.”
Perching his chin on the height of his templed index fingers, the king donned a gaze of significant interest. “Go on.”
“Well as it were there is but one who has ever attempted to and succeeded in solving your maze.”
“Reiterating that of which I am already fully aware does so tend to bore me, Arven.”
“Yes your majesty. What I’m saying is that if I knew more about her, what brought her here, what made her able to solve the maze, I believe I could create an unbeatable labyrinth.”
Jareth fell back, now significantly less interested in what the former king of mines had to say. “No labyrinth can be unbeatable. There has to be one successful route through by rule.”
“Since when do you play by the rules?” Arven asked flippantly.
“True.” Proudly Jareth began an even strut about the room. “Still there are some rules even I must comply with if I wish not to anger higher powers.”
“Higher than the king?”
His leather clad hand patted the shoulder of the dark haired immortal, “Surely you’re aware that even a king is not safe from the laws of the universe? The throne does not keep your enemies at bay, after all Arven, you were once a king.”
“Point well taken,” he agreed. “But, if you will, there are currently twenty-three possible solutions to the maze.”
“So if you know the possible solutions, why not block them off?”
“Death at every turn makes for a rather boring observation your highness. I’d much rather get inside the mind of this girl and make my modifications based upon that.”
The Goblin King stared at the opposing wall. Were he to refuse, it was likely he would face scrutiny from his assistant. More of the same questioning his feelings for the mortal, better he concede and prove the animosity he’d gained for Sarah Williams to keep Arven from further inquisition. “If you think it will help,” he told Arven as he poured a fresh brandy and refilled his own glass. Handing the fresh glass to his second, he noticed the look of surprise there. “What? Did you think I would forbid you knowledge of the girl?” Jareth fell easily into his chair. “What good does it do me if the man crafting my labyrinth isn’t at liberty to have full disclosure?”
“Ind...”
“Rhetorical question Arven,” he sighed. Even as king he managed a good sense of humor and couldn’t help but to wonder why everyone around him persisted in being so bloody serious all the time. “So, what is it you want to know about Sarah Williams?”
From the opposite interior pocket to the one where he’d placed the scroll, Arven drew some parchment scraps and a quill. The king immediately offered him an ink well which was promptly refused. “Suit yourself,” he said using his magic to whisk it away as quickly as he had used his magic to produce it.
Arven spun the pen between his fingers, revealing to Jareth a tiny tube shaped well of ink thatched onto the back end of the quill’s tip. “Portable reservoir,” he explained. “You merely clip one in and you’ve got a constant supply of ink for pages and when it runs dry, you simply pop it loose and replace it.” Mimicking the motion, he flicked his wrist while extending and retracting his finger.
“Yes, well, some of us still prefer at least a thing or two remain as it has been traditionally.”
“One can observe tradition while reaping the benefits of convenience, otherwise,” he wiggled the feathered end of his quill in emphasis. “Shall we get started?”
“I can think of nothing I’d rather do,” Jareth sighed, talking a gulp of brandy and slouching on one arm.
“This girl, Sarah Williams, is she exceptional in any manner?”
“Bit of a broad question, don’t you think?”
“Did she possess magic of her own?”
“No.”
“Was she physically stronger, as mortals go?”
“No.”
“Rarely beautiful?”
“Not rarely.”
“Smart then? She must have been of above average intellect.” Arven began scribbling on the parchment.
“I wouldn’t say above average, not then at least.” Jareth tried his best to recall what he’d thought of her in that regard. She did have some brains. She had to, but it wasn’t her intelligence that made him take notice and certainly not what enabled her to solve the labyrinth. It was something more, something not yet developed to it’s full potential. “She had determination,” he admitted. “She refused to quit until she had her baby brother back, and she was willing to accept help from others when they offered it. She lacked pride and yet exuded it at the same time.”
Scribbling wildly didn’t keep Arven from asking, “This is how you felt about her then?”
“Meaning?”
“It was just a question.”
“Back then I admired her. I respected her.”
“You loved her,” the former king stated flatly.
Jareth cleared his throat, “For a time, I was fascinated by her, but it is hard to love a woman who has destroyed the only thing which you have ever really had to call your own. No one had ever challenged me like she had and I was smitten. Much has changed since then Arven, for her and for me.”
“And now?”
“And now, if I were to encounter her emotional twin, I would watch patiently in my chambers, with much anticipation for how she might die.”
“Your majesty, I must say I’m quite proud of this turn around in your attitude toward your past.”
“I can’t tell you what that means to me.” Beaming with delight, Arven was aglow at the king’s acknowledgment. “I can’t tell you because I will be asleep shortly, so do lock the door on your way out.” More sensitive ears may have heard Arven’s ego deflate at Jareth’s witty repartee, but the king was changed and in his bed in the snap of a finger. “I believe you were asked to leave.”
“In all fairness, your majesty, I was only able to ask one question.”
“Perhaps if you leave this instant, in the morning we can discuss why fairness means very little to me. Until then, I’m going to ask you one last time using a word reserved only for my most serious moments, please leave my chambers before I’m forced to remove you.”
“Naturally,” Arven declined, bowing to the king before backing from the room. “Goodnight, your grace.”
Jareth waved his hand at the door until he heard it close and then he allowed sleep to bring him peace.
***** ***** *****
“Another balcony,” the king sighed making the transition between owl and his immortal form. “Doesn’t anyone do sliding glass doors anymore? Don’t people in ranch houses ever wish their children away?” As he continued on with his structural analysis, Jareth made a mental note to suggest to Arven they conduct a correlation study between housing types and numbers of children wished away. Why not? He seemed so eager to spend countless hours researching every other connection between the labyrinth and those who had stepped foot in it. Especially, it seemed, Sarah. He would humor his second on this topic a bit longer. After all, it seemed to give him some purpose, at the least, it kept him busy. Ultimately, if it improved the labyrinth, it was for the best.
The room he entered reminded him of a hundred others he had seen before. Bed, night tables, bureau, a crib. Didn’t anyone do nurseries anymore? In older days he’d seen some spectacular set ups. Tiny themed rooms. Bears or kittens, bunnies, all sorts of animals on a great ship with no sails. People were creative, they used their imaginations. It was easier to work then. In and out with the babies before anyone was any the wiser. A changeling left in the child’s place to be found in the morning by the unsuspecting parent or unobservant older child. It took a certain amount of skill to get the king to come a second time and offer the opportunity to run the labyrinth.
Now, they were all sticking their children in these slotted boxes, bedside, making it so that when he brought his goblins to take the child, the lot of them were quickly found out, immediately confronted and Jareth had no choice but to offer the offending wish maker an opportunity to win back the child. It was all more hassle than it was worth. The Goblin King missed the old days when his world was solely his own. Times changed and, for the most part Jareth changed with them, even if he had a healthier than average respect for tradition.
He could have debated the pluses and minuses for an indefinite and lengthy period of time, rather there was a child waiting in his castle and a girl facing away from him on the edge of her parent’s bed. Surely bursting through the balcony doors made enough noise to startle her, but just in case, he cleared his throat as loudly and gruffly as he could. Nothing. She was just outside the rays of moonlight which cast through the open doors at his back. Long tresses hung down over her shoulders. She seemed nearly inanimate to him, like a stone statue in the shadows.
“Excuse me,” he said ignoring his rule to force them to speak first. “Excuse me,” he repeated more loudly when she failed to respond. So slowly it seemed mechanical, the figure rotated it’s head. Jareth could see the glassy reflection of dark eyes as they looked at him filling him with dread.
This was a most unusual situation for the Goblin King. He hadn’t experienced fear or an emotion like it since he was a child himself. And even then, he wouldn’t have admitted it. But this female, she ignored him and someone as commanding as Jareth feared anyone who dared not to fear him and for good reason. He had spent years become positively the most fearsome immortal in his realm.
“Listen, I’m only here because you called on me,” Jareth announced stepping closer.
The female voice in the darkness was low and thick, “I know.” She sounded more mournful than intimidating. As his confidence grew, the Goblin King stepped toward her once more. She rose to her feet and met him on the very edge of the moonlight, “I know exactly why you’re here.” It was her green eyes which betrayed her, but Jareth had very little time to notice anything else once he felt her arms wrap around his neck.
Against his cool skin her breath felt like fire and when her lips pressed firmly against his, Jareth pulled her close. Like silk, her hair fell between his fingers, her skin perfumed with a mix of vanilla and spice. The taste of her as intoxicating as any alcohol he’d ever sipped and twice as sweet. The body meshed against his was not the body of a child, but the curvaceous form of full grown woman.
Why he forced her from him, the Goblin King couldn’t explain. “Sarah?” he asked.
“Yes Jareth,” she replied. He was transfixed by the sound of his name on her lips. Her hands fiddled with the lapels of his coat when he failed to respond. Her innocent smile keeping him from saying what was on his mind. Watching her lips part forced him to pull up his chin to keep from kissing her once more.
“Sarah, why are you here?”
“This is my house,” she reminded him, a playful light in her eyes.
Closing his eyes, the king took several steady breaths, “I actually meant to ask how I got here. There’s no way you could have called me.”
Lining the sides of his face, her manicured nail tips felt electrified. “Come now, you’ve been to my world often enough to know the old expression where there’s a will there’s a way.”
“So you willed me here?” His mind raced with ideas on how they’d managed to reunite.
Her hands fell loosely from his chin and against his exposed chest. Gathering the ruffles of his shirt, she tugged sharply down and outward until the silk v’ed all the way to his waist. Roaming over the pale glory of his cool exposed flesh, Sarah couldn’t resist nestling into his embrace. Looking into his mismatched eyes she answered him. “No silly. You willed me here.”
Soaking with sweat, Jareth sat bolt upright in his bed, his hands flailing for balance as his mind twirled between reality and his dream until his senses could convince him which he was in. Heart racing, he threw back the covers and perched in the window where he could let the cool night air fall over him. The castle stone felt good against his bare back aiding in calming the frazzled king.
Wet and matted against his head, what was usually a well developed natural crown clung to him repellently. Jareth let his head rest against the stone. Focusing his attentions on the black expansive night, filled with stars and moons. The more he relaxed, the more flashes of his dream came back to him. It was the slap of her lips against his that shook him most. “Why the hell would I be dreaming about her?”
His eyes sought the veil between the worlds. Closed, as he had suspected. One look at his attire, the silk sleeping pants unaccompanied, and he knew he had not left his bed in the middle of the night for an unwelcome summoning. It was he who was tampering with her memory and he would make her pay for tampering back. “But it’s not possible for her to have tampered back,” his rational mind told him. “It must be all of Arven’s questions.”
Yawning, he slumped back to bed. No rest awaited him there, instead he fidgeted as if his sheets had been made of broken glass. “This is ridiculous!” he shouted slamming his fist against his mattress. “It was just a dream, the result of a late night brandy and an interrogation. It’s not like you purposefully went to bed with her face on your mind and her name on your lips. Curse Arven with dreams of her.” Grabbing his covering, he flung himself onto his right side and commanded himself to sleep. Naturally, Jareth being who he was, refusing to yield to anyone’s demands, it seemed that stubbornness extended even to his own. “In the morning, I shall notify dear Arven just how lucky he was I was too tired to kill him tonight.”
***** ***** *****
“And so you see the girl has very little bearing on your improvements to this labyrinth. Thus, I would thank you to refrain from interrogating me in reference to her any further.” Jareth’s voice was calm. Perhaps too much so, making his justification seem rehearsed.
Arven listened to what he said, waited for him to be through and then countered, “And yet she is the one thing which continues to unnerve you. Your highness, forgive me for being bold, but where nothing else seems to concern you, this girl swoops in and disturbs you to your very core.” His voice deepened with sincerity. “It all leads me to wonder why that is.”
Jareth sat in his chair, still, listening not only to what was being said but also to what was being inferred. “It is true she defeated your maze. It is true she destroyed your kingdom. Should you not be filled with rage?” Arven set to pacing around the room “If it were my kingdom, let’s suppose, I would be beside myself with thoughts of revenge. The only means by which she would rule my thoughts, would be to control them with notions of her demise.”
From low in the king’s chest came a deep whisper, “But it isn’t your kingdom, is it?”
“Determined to protect myself from her reappearance in my world in every possible way.” Arven went on as if he’d never heard the comment. “I wouldn’t sit around my bed chamber at night wishing she had a second chance to best me.”
“Enough!” Jareth bellowed. “This is not your kingdom. Furthermore, had you bothered to ask, I would have told you there was no possible way in which Sarah Williams could return to this realm. Problem solved Arven. Or perhaps a little bog duty would close the topic more permanently?”
Arven bowed, “If it pleases your majesty, I have learned to never underestimate an opponent. Someday, the mortal may wind up with a child, and if she does your highness, we run the risk of being invaded once more.”
“Do your research, the mortal is unable to have children. It is the catalyst which destroyed her marriage in the first place.”
“There are advances in modern science, advances that catapult them further everyday toward being able to make anything of the human body that it desires. Why should we believe the day would not come when Sarah Williams could conceive a child?”
Stumbling for an answer, the king couldn’t establish a coherent word before Arven was able to unleash some more of his justification, “Because sire, on the off chance it ever happens, on the remote possibility she would have the capacity to wish away the child she has yet to conceive, were she to beat the odds and find herself facing you once more, besting you once more, she would win back the child. Only this time, she would walk away with something more than a baby. She would have your kingdom. It would be you to kneel before her, you at the mercy of her every whim. You to know the pain of having once been king.”
“You dare think me that weak?”
“I dare to see a weakness in you. Your majesty, it is obvious that you feel something for this girl, something other than loathing and hatred. If I am to do my best to help you preserve this kingdom, your kingdom, then it is my obligation to remind you that any opportunity you give her is only a gateway to your demise.”
“Put me on my knees? Take my kingdom?” Jareth muttered aloud, a deep flush coming to his face. “If you mean to frighten me into allowing you to have your way Arven, then it is my obligation to remind you that I am not easily frightened.”
“Aye your majesty.”
“Good, then before my good mood and generosity vanish, take your leave of me.
***** ***** *****
The blows lowered repeatedly across his full cheek did nothing to rephrase his answer. “None but her,” he said. Hoggle spat blood into the sand. Tiny grains seemed to swallow the rich liquid enhancing the already rusty color of the grains. “None but her.”
“None?” the king paced before the dwarf. Temporarily he clasped his wrist behind his lower back. “Thousands of mortals to enter this realm and you’ve extended your hospitality to none but her.”
Hoggle stood by his word. “None but her,” he swore again as his swollen lip interfered with his already muddled speech.
“Why?” Jareth insisted. “And don’t tell me it’s because she was the one to call you friend. It is, after all, nothing more than a title. I could have given you a title Higgle.” The king sounded almost hurt he hadn’t been given the opportunity to do just that.
“You can’t even get my name right!” the dwarf retaliated. “It’s HOGGLE!”
“Hoggle? Higgle? What’s the difference? I would have been willing to give you a title, a position in the Goblin City, even the castle if I thought I could have trusted you, but how can I trust a worthless little scab like you who goes leaking my secrets to any mortal willing to befriend him?”
“Don’t want yer trust,” Hoggle declared. “Ain’t helped no one but Sarah. Ain’t ever been no one’s friend before, until her. Not since either.” He wiped the last of the wet blood from his lip revealing a nice sized gash where there had been skin. “Think what you want. Ain’t goin’ to change yer mind. Don’t wanna try.”
Why was it, Jareth wondered, Sarah Williams seemed to reach inside everyone she met, through the coldest and roughest exteriors and stroke the heart beneath their ribs until she forced them to smile. Hoggle was nothing more than a toady old dwarf, physically unappealing, odoriferous to say the least, unpleasant to the other senses as well, lacking in any sort of manners or sophistication and terribly grammatically incorrect. He had nothing to offer anyone by the way of finances or possessions. Until Sarah, Jareth would have doubted he had any intangible quality that would make him worth while, but he had shown that one girl true allegiance. Admirable, even if it was treasonous. It showed potential.
“How generous of you Hoglet, granting me your permission to think my own thoughts.” The king stooped to the level of the dwarf. “Can you guess what I’m thinking now?”
Though his response should have filled him with fright, Hoggle muttered with complete calm, “That you would kill me if it weren’t for you needin’ someone to guard the gate.”
“Not a bad idea,” Jareth gave his eyebrows a jerk. Snatching up the front of Hoggle’s vest he said in a low, throaty growl, “Mind yourself otherwise I will be in the market for a new guard.” Shoving him down, the Goblin King rose, towering above the helpless creature in the dirt. “This is your one and only warning. Assist no mortal that comes to these gates.”
“I told you I ain’t,” Hoggle interrupted.
“Even if the famed Miss Williams should return?” Jareth sought his servant’s eyes. They betrayed any attempt he may have made to lie. “Surely you mean to answer me as quickly as before,” the king prompted.
“Sarah’s comin’ back?” Hoggle asked in reply.
“Of course not. But if she were, by some chance.”
“What chance?” His repeated questions flustered the king.
“No chance!”
“There must be some chance if yer askin’ me ‘bout it.” By now, Hoggle had risen from the ground and made his way to Jareth’s feet, more driven by curiosity than bravery.
Drawing back the toes of his right foot, Jareth delivered a mighty kick just beneath Hoggle’s left hip that sent him sailing. “I said there’s no chance of it. I was testing you. Testing your allegiance and as usual you have failed! Keep to yourself. Kill off the fairies, guard the door and encourage our guests to peek inside. That is all you need do. Any deviation from those duties and you will be relieved of them as you will be relieved of your burdensome responsibility of breathing in and out repeatedly all day long.”
Hoggle lie still, not far from the fountain. His leg felt broken, but he was too scared to move and test his theory. Too afraid that Jareth would finish him off here and now for his insubordination. Still, something about the king’s visit gave him hope. He had some reason to believe Sarah might return, even if he refused to admit it. Anything was possible. It had been sometime since he’d last seen her. A few goblins on the inside let slip the fact the king kept tabs on her. Hoggle knew she had been married. Perhaps she had children of her own now, but Sarah wasn’t the kind to wish away her own child?
A second voice rose in Hoggle’s head baiting him, ‘Not even for curiosity’s sake?’
‘No,’ Hoggle thought as he felt himself losing consciousness from the pain in his leg. Sarah Williams was no longer an impetuous child. She’d sent her brother away, true, but she had learned from that experience. The notion she might attempt it with her own flesh and blood was as preposterous as Hoggle’s notion he could stand up to the king. But there was still a glimmer of hope deep within him, the only light he could see as his world went dark.
***** ***** *****
Preceeding the feel of soft flesh against his lips, Jareth inhaled the soft cloud of jasmine scent gathered beneath his nose. This was no ordinary girl, this was a sophisticated woman. He could tell by the way she allowed her hand to lie so naturally within his own. Pliable, but still. There was no trembling, no tell tale beads of perspiration in her palm. Thinking ahead, knowing this moment would come she’d dotted her perfume lightly on her wrist where she knew he would appreciate the scent when he showed his respect.
She’d used a milk and honey sugar scrub when she’d bathed, giving her skin a smoothed polished finish, leaving behind the lightest hint of sweetness beneath the floral perfume. For the pristine condition of her hand, it had to be a frequent ritual. This was a woman of leisure he surmised, the kind of lady who had time to worship herself and therefore expected it of others as well.
Thinking he may indulge her for a moment, Jareth stayed bent before her, head tipped, his lips still pressed to the back of her hand as if he’d knelt to pray at a temple. Then slowly he pulled back his lips until they hovered above her skin and sighed a puff of his warm breath over the spot which held his kiss. By then even the most dignified woman was trying to keep her knees from betraying her otherwise cool exterior. This woman didn’t flinch.
“Rise,” a woman’s strong voice commanded.
‘This is a brazen one,’ he thought as he made his way to his feet. His eyes focused on the rich black pattern in the petticoat of her gown. ‘I will wait until the proper moment, when I feel her wanton eyes upon me,’ he anticipated. When he flicked his eyes directly on hers, she would melt into his arms and he would claim her.
More than a minute went by without him feeling cast upon. In fact, he felt all together unwell. The stone beneath his feet seemed as if it would give way. The air around him was thick, heavy against his frame, and the look he waited for felt more like a vice than the invitation he had been expecting. Laughter rang inside his head. Cackling. Looking about he confirmed there was no one else in the room with them. “Make them stop,” he commanded with as much authority as he could muster, but he was only met with more thunderous enthusiasm. “Make them stop!”
He flicked his gaze upon her, poised, cold, calculating, prepared to stare her into submission if need be. Green like sapphires, like an emerald beneath a clear pool. He felt himself go soft. Reaching for her he stepped forward, only to be clutched at the elbows by two guards. Royal guards?
“What’s the meaning of this? Do you not know who I am? Let go of me before I leave you to the forest!”
“Your majesty, what should we do with the intruder?”
“Well you can start by grabbing on to her instead of me,” he suggested to deaf ears.
That same honey sweet, jasmine scented hand lifted his chin, “He is rather pathetic,” she said. “What should we do with you Jareth? Drop you in the bottom of a deep, dark oubliette? Lose you in an every changing maze of walls? Leave you to the fiery forest? Abandon you in the bog? No,” her smile was sinister, “that would be such a pity.”
“Sarah,” he growled.
Clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she brought her face close to his, “I no longer recognize my above world pseudonym. I have finally assumed my true title, that which I was meant for since I was but a child. They call me,” her lips grazed his ear, her breath like fire against his even paler than usual skin, “the Goblin Queen.” Rearing back her head, she laughed a hearty fulfilling laugh.
“Whatever you’re playing at has gone on quite long enough,” he told her. Looking at his guards he commanded, “Let me go!”
The servants at his sides looked toward their queen. She jestured and the guards stepped back. Jareth straightened his finery. “I don’t know what they were thinking going along with this whimsy.” He stepped to her, his hands hugging her waist. “Are there no better games you know my darling?”
What was normally a face of rare beauty contorted into a mask of severity and utter seriousness. “If you continue to touch me, I will have you killed.” She gave a smirk before generating a crystal which struck him in the stomach with unreal force and shoved him back. Stumbling some before managing to regain his balance, Jareth felt long fingers fill with tufts of his mane, yanking until his back arched. Sarah forced him to his knees. Towering above him she was both fearsome and sensuous. Her lips were red as blood as she instructed him on the proper way to greet his queen. “You shall kneel before me always. Our eyes should never meet. And if you must call for my attention, you will address me as your majesty and only as your majesty.” With uncommon strength she tossed his head forward and shoved the one time Goblin King face first toward the stone floor.
Before his hands could jut out to protect him, Jareth felt the cold, sharp edges of the crudely chiseled tiles slice his face. For the first time in all the time he could recall, he felt pain. Scarlet streams shown bright against his white skin, matting the strands of platinum hair which dared to wander close to his wounds. Struggling, he pressed against the floor until he was more upright. Dizziness overwhelmed him, making standing an extraordinary feat. Staggering, he managed a crude kneel, one knee up, one knee on the ground.
“Don’t bother,” Sarah spat at him as she circled the fallen king. “Even if you managed to get up, I’ll only have the guards drag you off to your oubliette. Such a pity.”
By now he could taste the blood pouring from a nice slice above his right eye. “What? What is such a pity?” Jareth asked slowly.
“I really rather hoped you would be more accepting of all of this. We could have had a great empire you and I, if only you’d have cooperated. But you had to challenge me.” Sarah paced authoritatively before him, flicking a riding crop at the bell of crinoline filling the layer between her skirt and her delicate, black suede boots. “Naturally you lost, again,” she stressed. “I thought you’d learned something in all this time, but no, you couldn’t accept your defeat any better the second time. You had to whine about how unfair it all was, how I had no power over you. Well we see now how wrong you were.” Between the thumb and first finger of her right hand, she clasped his chin firmly, forcing his face to turn up toward hers. In course with her recent forewarning, he avoided her eyes in any direct sense. “Now I’ll have to lock you up until you learn a little something about humility. I only hope I don’t forget about you.” Swinging her hand, she sent him crashing to the floor again. The sting of the crop radiated through him as it landed square in the small of his back. Just before he passed out from the pain, in the distance, he heard the queen order her guards, “Take him away.”
When he awoke, his breath was heavy, his skin soaked with moisture. Though he had been as asleep as a lazy cat sprawled in the summer sun, he felt weak and feeble. “No!” Jareth cried out as he sat upright. Wiping his face, he confirmed the droplets pouring from his temples were nothing more serious than perspiration. Legs like rubber bands he wobbled to the wash basin and poured some tepid water which he then spooned over his face. Jareth pat himself dry and sat on the edge of his bed.
His heart beat so hard in the veins of his temples, it blurred his vision. Everything above his waist shook, everything below was numb. Replays of his nightmare flickered in his head in black and white, out of sequence and very quickly. Even with his eyes open he couldn’t block the images out. “I’ll kill Arven tomorrow for that,” Jareth proclaimed. “Planting some ludicrous notion in my head, causing me to lose what could have been an otherwise thorough night’s sleep, that has to be some degree of treason.”
Fighting to regain control of himself, the king began pacing his room pausing to pour himself a medicinal brandy, “And if it’s not some degree of treason, I shall declare it one. A substantial one at that, because I am king. He will understand that. This kingdom will understand that. Sarah Williams will be made to understand that.” The glass in his hand shattered under the pressure of his grip.
***** ***** *****
What time he fell asleep again even the wiseman couldn’t tell. Dried blood had stuck his palm to the arm of his wingback chair and whether it was brandy or saliva crusting the corner of his mouth was hard to say, but one thing was certain, Jareth had begun this day equipped with a new level of rage brewing within him.
Inside his office, he thought up more and more potent reminders to send to the above world. When Arven entered, he’d forgotten all about wanting to see him eliminated for treason, rather he began a litany of tasks for him to carry out in the labyrinth. “I want every passage closed sans one. Choose the most difficult. If need be, inspire a dozen or so mortals to call for me and I’ll bring them to you. We’ll set them each loose on one of the workable paths and you can test the routes.”
“Yes your majesty,” Arven complied enthusiastically. “Right away.” Jumping from his chair he took flight, eager to begin shutting down the viable passages through the labyrinth.
The king commanded him to sit. Without question his second complied. Authority left his lower jaw hanging as he looked up at Jareth from his seat confused by his contradictory commands and fearful of his newly surfaced anger. “Arven, have you that pile of scraps you’re so fond of carrying about?”
From within his breast pocket he withdrew the same, “Aye.”
“I shall speak this once. I shall speak quickly. I shall not repeat myself and lastly, I shall not entertain discussions on this topic again.”
“Your majesty?”
As if he never heard the inquisitive tones of the immortal before him, Jareth went on. “Sarah Williams was like any other impetuous child on the surface. The book she found had long since been left behind in a prop box, left in the shadows backstage at a public theater. Her mother had left her there to entertain herself while she worked on her latest role. That’s when I first noticed something different in her.”
Words flew from Arven’s fingers making it seem his quill would take flight at any moment. Some blessing had been bestowed upon him to make him suddenly privy to that which Jareth held most secretive. There was an honor in this, but there was not time to focus on that, not now.
“Most girls, especially those her age, read through the book in less than thirty minutes searching for only the necessary pieces of information. The incantations always seemed to catch their eyes and within less time than it takes to transport through the veil, they’re hunting down a babe, any babe and they’re reciting words they don’t understand. What’s more, they don’t care that they don’t understand it. Rather they wait, looking forward to finding themselves in the presence of a king. Not her. Not Sarah,” he grew whimsical for a split second. “She studied the blasted book like it was a bible. Learned damn near every word by heart. In her teens she acquired a simple white dress with huge bell sleeves, tight to her waist, tied with cords. A ring of flowers rest upon her crown and beneath the skirt of sturdy cotton, a pair of denim pants. She was yearning to become a woman, but still held tight to her youth.”
“And did this dress come with some sort of magical powers?” Arven asked.
Jareth paced before him, his glance stern, projecting like darts from his mismatched eyes. “There will be no questions. If I was unclear about this earlier, let me specify it now with complete certainty. There will be no questions.”
Arven nodded.
“In this dress, she would come every weekend to a park near her home. There was a lake and a bridge and a small monument, perfect for perching. There I would watch her become absorbed in the character from the book. Over and over reading the lines as if she were the one the king had given certain powers to.”
Arven mumbled aloud, “And that’s when you gave her your powers.”
The crop in Jareth’s hand cut through the air with a determined swoosh and a sharp thwap when it landed on the back of Arven’s chair. The immortal jumped in his seat silently cursing his gruff voice for being audible even when he meant it to be a near silent utterance. “I saw potential in her. She was so readily able to accept the idea of our world, so eager for fantasy to be a part of her mortal world. If things had been different, if she had been older or at least more mature, she’d have made a fine queen. She’d have looked at me differently,” he caught himself, “my world differently. It was more than my servitude I offered her, it was my kingdom.” He swung the crop again, knocking several books from the case on his right.
“I’m getting ahead of myself.” Clearing his throat the king continued, “Her home life was less than satisfactory for her. Sarah was inconsequential to her parents, meaningless to her step mother. One particularly rough evening, I sent my goblins to keep watch on her. I may have planted the suggestion in her head to try to utter the words, but for the most part, it was her own idea. I waited outside her window, anticipating that someone as interested in my story as this one was couldn’t resist being home alone with a baby she resented.
“The child was particularly irritating that night.” Jareth leaned against the window sill, his left heel kicked up against the wall. ‘I owed him for that,’ he thought. “Non-stop squalling and endless sobs, it was only a few moments before she was muttering incantations. The goblins took the child and secured him in the castle while I bargained with her. At first I offered her what I offered them all. The child is in the castle, but it’s such a long, long way, further than you think. I warned her it would not be easy, suggested she stay here with her toys and costumes, but I knew better than to think she’d accept my bargain. Nothing was to stop her from entering the labyrinth.
“So I returned to the castle and I waited. To amuse myself I threw obstacle upon obstacle her way, but that damned dwarf who guards the gates, he fell for her. Helping her through the labyrinth, all for a piece of plastic and the meaningless title of friend.” The king’s obvious displeasure with Hoggle contorted his face. “He wasn’t the only one though, once she rescued Ludo he felt obligated to her and then Didymus, smitten by her beauty.”
‘B..e..a..u..t..y,’ Arven wrote. Lifting the quill and doubling back to underline the adjective.
“I had developed a strange respect for her then. It occurred to me that if she were able to beat the labyrinth, I might be able to charm her somewhat, convince her that staying with me would be in her best interests. Then I would not have been bested, per say. My perfect record would remain in tact. I would have been allowed to keep the child and in the process acquired myself a queen to occupy my...time.
Clenching his fist, the king was reminded of his injury from the night before. He relaxed his hand. “Queen wasn’t good enough for her. An entire kingdom at her disposal, all the Underground to call her own. I offered her all I was, all I had, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She just went on with that antidote, that reversal spell. Why did I ever leave that line in the story? I should have made it more difficult, that’s my bane. But she didn’t even stop to think.
“Yes, she wanted the child, but had she accepted my offer, she’d have had the babe and his life would have been a far cry better than it is now. Orphaned, alone, still thinking of his world as some harmless place where good things happen to good people and injustice is somehow monitored by the moral and kept at bay by human decency. Toby’s never seen the truth of humanity. He never saw his ancestors invade the veil and attempt to take all that we had kept pure.
“Sure we warred among ourselves, but we kept our feuds to ourselves. We took the children of the wretched whose lives were sad to begin with and here we offered them complete joy. Gone were bed times and homework. They had but to mill about and satisfy their boredom with any number of games. Until one of the humans, one of the moral, justice hungry humans called us thieves in the night, declared us evil for the deeds we did. Then his perfect race turned to the black magics to invade our world, kill off as many of us as they could. We had no weaponry but our magic. It was a slaughter.” Jareth thought of Annacuin. The day he lost his sibling as fresh to him as the wound beneath his glove. That was what humans had cost him. That is what their kind was capable of. It was humans who had made immortals as enraged as they had become. Taught them the art of true war, taught them about swords and maces, taught them hatred for another race.
“That is the full story of Sarah Williams, the first in centuries to best me. There is no more, there is no less. Take what you have learned, if that has been anything at all, and go perfect my maze, but speak of this no more. To me, Sarah Williams is...” he struggled with how best to say what crossed his mind. “She is an illusion, smoke and mirrors and trickery.”
***** ***** *****
For weeks Arven fiddled in the labyrinth, bricking walls and setting traps. On several occasions he tempted young girls into facing the king so he could test his routes, but by the end of his experimentation and expedition, the labyrinth was wholly impossible, but for one route which ran forward and then doubled back upon itself, taking the participant to seemingly hopeless locations where only faith would carry them onward, each step, each stop purposefully and carefully devised to test the heart, the body and the soul. “I should,” he said to the maze he stood in, “like to see even the beautiful and fortunate Miss Williams solve this puzzle now. None shall ever best his majesty again.”
His efforts were noble, his commitment tireless, but someone who had spent his life being an immortal had a very narrow concept of ever. It left the on looking Goblin King to wonder if the former king had truly learnt anything from losing his kingdom once. Confidence was one thing, but taking comfort in confidence was foolish, at best.