AN:
A Visit of Inspiration
"So many woman to bed, so little time."
"You're mocking me. After everything I've been through in my life, I've earned this right."
"Everything you've been through?" But she knew not to question him further. "You know, you might save a lot of time, energy, and confusion if you would jut tell us your history rather than let us create it. Of course, this is futile, you won't answer me."
"So why waste your time?"
She shrugged, "Maybe, one day, you'll decide to shock the hell out of me and actually give me a straight answer."
He folded his arms across his chest and snorted derisively, "Ha."
She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, "You might want to not piss off the author, you know."
He shrugged, unimpressed.
She glared at him a moment longer before throwing her hands up in frustration, "Oh, just go bother someone else and leave me alone!"
"But I was having so much fun."
Finally at her breaking point, the girl stood up from the chair and marched over to the Goblin King, thumping him on the chest with her finger as she spoke,
"If this is your idea of getting back at me for mocking you, you can forget it. I don't have to finish this story. Even better, I can write you into an oubliette and just forget about you altogether."
To her chagrin, the king just smiled, running his hand down her cheek, a mocking amusement dancing in his odd eyes,
"Now, don't go making idle threats, love. I've been your hero since you were five."
She pushed his hand away, "You, Jareth, are having delusions. You weren't the hero, you were the bad guy…and don't call me love - or dear or precious or any of you other pet names."
"I never said I was 'the' hero, I said I was your hero."
"And I still say you're delusional."
Jareth grinned, "I'm delusional? You're sitting here, talking to a Goblin King and I'm supposed to be the one with delusions?"
She stared at him for a moment. No matter how she answered him, they'd be going in these same circles.
"I'm not delusional. I just have an active imagination," she finally answered.
Jareth just smiled at her.
The girl sighed and sat down again, "Why exactly are you here? Did you just pop in to make my life hell?"
The smile dropped from the king's face, "That was not my intent."
"Then what was?"
"Simply to visit. Maybe to inspire."
"Inspire?" the girl said, mimicking the king's earlier snort, "Just go away already. I don't need your inspiration."
It was the king's turn to sigh, "Very well. If you change your mind and wish to talk, call on me. And, if my opinion matters to you at all, you're story isn't all bad."
She looked at him wearily, "Seeing as how that is the closest thing to a compliment I'll get from you…thank you."
Jareth nodded and turned towards the window to go. Suddenly, her voice stopped him,
"Jareth? May I ask you something?"
"Certainly."
"Do you truly hate the stories written about you?"
The king thought for a moment, turning around and taking a seat on the girl's bed.
"No. Of course, it is true that there are certain themes that have been…used excessively. And it is true that it gets boring and tiring. And I do complain. I am who I am and I make no apologies for that. I wish people would look beyond the obvious to write stories. I play games with the authors and readers both. I try to work the story to my whim. I make no apologies for that either. But, for all that, I never hate a story, though I may not be fond of what happens in it. Nor will I ever hate a story, no matter how many times the same themes are recycled. You see, these stories are parts of your imagination. And imagination is how I live. So long as there are Labyrinth stories, I will be. Does that answer you?"
The girl smiled warmly at the king, "Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a story to write."