Shampoo147: Well, this came with the other one, Labyrinth's Circus. Just a brief drabble on Jareth.

Ayame: We do not own the Labyrinth.

My Kingdom

The gold spattered morning mist rolled through the Labyrinth, his Labyrinth. He had created this maze; this world itself. How he had come to such power was a memory long forgotten, but he knew that he had created the world to every tree and bracken. He had created every creature and they were loyal to him, knowing no other purpose than pleasing their master, their lovely Jareth.

Now this world was beautiful, submitting to his every whim and want. The outskirts of his exquisite kingdom were rolling deserts of pastel yellow and vivified scarlet; briefly dabbled with shallow ponds and their devilish fairies, warning away any unwanted intruders to his utopia.

Further inside, however, was everything from forests to ruins, anything that struck Jareth's fancy as he created. Manicured and ruined, Jareth loved his kingdom.

"Master?" Came an inquisitive request of admittance out of Jareth's majestic door of mahogany.

"Come, Darfore." The Goblin King, Jareth, responded as he turned his attention away from the golden sunrise. He was standing upon his balcony, made of a crystal of some kind, Jareth had long ago forgotten what. The balcony door was draped with silken silhouettes of silver-spattered royal blue, open to the elements, for it there were no elements to fear unless Jareth was throwing a tantrum of some kind.

A small goblin pushed open the ornate double doors to his master's room, slipping into the richly furnished room. His eyes sought out Jareth immediately, vaguely noting that his master had yet to change out of his white silk nightclothes. "Breakfast is ready." He declared as he bowed out of the room, the doors closing automatically.

Jareth brushed an errant hair out of his face as he went to his dressing room. Inside were a screen, a full-length mirror, and all of his clothes. Absently pushing the fabric screen out of his way, he threw off his nightclothes in favor of a white shirt with V-neck and loose sleeves, with tight, black pants and boots. He gazed into his mirror, with his life as it is, he found a new enjoyment in his own vanity. His shirt was flecked with glittering silver, giving the cloth the impression of glowing and his pants were sewn with the very feather-threads of ravens, giving the illusion of pure darkness itself.

The king brushed his fingers over his eyes, darkening his eyelashes, lining his eyes with black, and a shimmering shadow to his eyes. He could easily do the same with his clothes, but he had long felt a sense of comfort in doing such a thing manually. Of course, it wouldn't even take a wave of a hand, simply a turn of his mind. How powerful he had gotten from . . .

'From what?' was that question that haunted Jareth. Since what? Since when? What was before the Labyrinth? Was there anything before his Labyrinth?

Jareth ran his hands over each other and brought his now-gloved index fingers together before spreading his arms, a silky black ribbon extending from each finger. He pulled his black and silver streaked hair back with a bow, allowing his lifted bangs free.

He gazed into his mirror, pleased to see that he had become ethereal.

As he stepped into the dining room, he paused to actually observe the room. For a while too long he had looked at room without actually seeing it…

The table was made of polished ebony, with a rich, red tablecloth; a second longer of observation showed that the glittering aspect of his table was the effect of ruby strands spun into the material. The centerpiece was a glossy black vase with poinsettias clustered in a beautiful bouquet, white candles flickering above and around it, gravity nonsense to Jareth's world as he willed it.

Suddenly bored, Jareth sat and absently watched a big toothed goblin place a silver plate of toast, eggs, and sliced fruit before him.

More recently, he had taken a shine to a lovely young lady, as lovely as youth often grants. She had been fiery in spirit, urging him to break her. Sarah was her name.

He had briefly challenged her to his Labyrinth and she had actually passed his little test. So, pleased, he had given her Hog-something, Luto, Bruno, something, and his over energetic knight, Sir something. He had no use for them, either way. They were simply children he had turned into goblins, as he had planned to do to Toby.

When he had finished his breakfast, he walked into his rooms and blew a crystal-bubble to show him his Queen. Sarah may think that she had escaped him, but he would not let her go.

He will keep her here, by any measure of force, until he tired of her. The Labyrinth had a bad effect of those he took as his queens.

He recalled Ayame, beautiful Ayame. She had been so beautiful, with a sweet, warm melody for a voice. She had long, blue hair that shined like sapphires and big, green eyes that had always been bright, once upon a time.

As time passed, her eyes had lost their luster and her voice lost its warmth in melody. Infuriated, he had sent her to the circus in the Deep Woods, the place for the sad nightmares people had wished upon his Labyrinth. The last he had seen of her, her skin had been falling off.

As Jareth departed to the Human World, he had plans of quiet seduction in his mind. He'll have her by twenty-one, with force or not.

She'll be his, his until he decided not to be hers anymore.