Sickday!
Disclaimer: The usual, not mine etc
Just a short piece to get back into writing.
Jareth awoke in misery, to a knock on his chamber door. His bedchamber was cold. The rain was pouring down in sheets outside his window, reflecting his own misery. He'd meant to be up early this morning, but it was now lunchtime and he had yet to summon the energy to move. He contemplated ignoring the intruder or sending them to the bog. He settled on ignoring them, though each knock aggravated his pounding head, it was never a wise idea to use magic when sick. You could never predict how it would react, particularly in Jareth's kingdom – a land ruled by chaos. This was the reason there was no fire in the grate to disperse the chill.
Today was the harvest festival, so none of his subjects would have been prepared for the storm over their heads. The king had always given this one last pleasant sunny day before allowing winter to take hold, though apparently not this year.
Sir Didymus finally took his life in his hands and entered without permission. He eyed the opulent surroundings with interest, there were few who were allowed entrance to the King's private quarters and he had never been one of them, however as a knight of the realm, currently the Head of the Kings Guard, for this rotation at least. It was his job to discover the reason for the king's absence at the festival and for the ongoing rain. An obvious sign that all was not well. Meaning the king was probably in a rage about something and had forgotten entirely his promise of sunshine for the festival.
Noone envied Sir Didymus's appointed task of talking an irate king into calming down and enjoying a festival his people had worked hard to prepare for. Even now the jousting competitors were suited up, only waiting for a break in the weather to compete. Many inhabitants of the labyrinth were sitting inside their homes, dressed up in their best clothing and waiting. Jareth was a capricious king, they were all well used to his moods, but his subjects rarely had to cancel their celebrations because of them.
Nobody was even sure what had set him off this time. He'd been fine the night before, had taken his place at the annual banquet as usual. He'd been quieter than normal, but showed no signs of any simmering anger and the night had been fine and pleasant until the early hours. When the rain started.
The rooms were unusually cold, no fire in the large grate. Didymus moved towards another ornate door. The king's bedchamber was a large room filled with plush carpets and rugs. Taking his life in his hands he called out,
"Sire?"
"Go away," came a scratchy voice from the bed.
Worried now Didymus continued forward to the edge of the bed and stared. The king was clearly sick. He blinked, uncertain what to do. Jareth was never sick it was unheard of! Yet here he lay, drenched in sweat, looking like death warmed up.
A doctor was called for; by the time of his arrival at the castle almost the entire kingdom knew that the King was sick. The festival was officially cancelled, though nobody left the area. They all wanted to be the first to hear the doctor's prognosis. Jareth would have been very surprised at the worry he had engendered from his people. Would no doubt put it down to worry about how it would affect themselves and their Labyrinth. He was partially wrong though.
They'd got used to Jareth over the years, capricious and child-like though he was. He and his goblins were feared throughout the underground to the point where, the labyrinth was generally left alone by all the other kingdoms. This suited its inhabitants well, for they were all misfits themselves. Had come to the labyrinth to escape. Dwarves that didn't want to spend their lives mining for gold and trolls not wanting to eat people, all ended up here. It was the same for everyone; the Labyrinth represented freedom, a means to escape unwanted destinies. Jareth accepted them all and let them choose their own fate.
He wasn't the fairest or the wisest king in the underground by far, but he had other attributes that to his people mattered more. He might be unfair and subject to the whims of his temper, but he was unfair to everyone equally, regardless of their species. He wasn't controlling either; his labyrinth was in a perpetual state of chaos. Good and evil lived side-by-side, all shades of grey co-existed together. Other kingdoms may be white or black, such as the good wise elves or the evil orcs and had no room for grey in their midst, so the labyrinth contained the few immoral elves and moralistic intelligent orcs. The labyrinth was sanctuary for all and was ruled over by a king whose allegiance was to neither good nor evil and who was thus an acceptable ruler for all, or rather an unacceptable ruler to all.
Gossip about the king linked the most angelic and the wicked among his subjects and they bitched and moaned about Jareth in preference to making war on each other. They were allowed to do so. Freedom-of-speech, an unheard of thing in the underground, except for Jareth's kingdom, oh he'd threaten them with the bog and they all acted suitably scared, but it was a mild punishment in comparison to their homelands and in truth though there were rumours, very few people actually knew anyone who had been dipped in it.
To the amazement of every other kingdom in the underground, Jareth had never been overthrown, had never so much as suffered a papercut from one of his misfit subjects. Though they had all been waiting for it, some had even tried fermenting trouble themselves, for the labyrinth was the richest land around. Portals to above allowing Jareth to establish dominance with his gringott's bank in the world of mortals allowing him to become almost limitlessly wealthy and powerful. Not that he seemed to use the power.
So when news of the king's illness penetrated the land the rumour mill went wild with speculation.
The doctor nervously took the king's pulse and soothed his brow with a cool cloth. He had no idea what was wrong with the king. Jareth lay sweating profusely and looking miserable. His head hurt, and he felt horribly unwell.
"Drink this sire," tried the doctor looking as confident as he dared.
Jareth looked dubious, he was fairly certain that the doctor had no idea what he was doing. But on the off chance it would help, he downed the glass. It didn't help.
Within moments he felt dizzy and he stared at his hand in wonderment as the pretty colours swirled around it. An elephant started dancing around his room and he actually giggled when it walked out of the wall allowing a nice cool breeze to enter the room when the wall collapsed. Suddenly he felt like he had boundless energy, so he leapt up from bed. Arms tried to stop him in panic.
He was on a balcony; what a lovely day, full of swirly colours and shapes. Loud voices came from behind him, chasing away the colours. He decided to leave the loud angry voices behind and go have some fun. He jumped off the balcony; after all he could fly couldn't he? Apparently not, though it didn't seem to matter since the ground seemed so soft and gentle, there was another voice now. It seemed to come from everywhere at once and was chiding him, he paid it no mind though.
He awoke soaked through and covered in mud. He wasn't quite sure where he was, but he didn't especially care either. A gentle voice soothed his head and almost seemed to cradle his body. Though it sounded both seriously annoyed and worried.
"Are you better now? Only I don't think you should continue lying there," the voice asked hopefully.
"Wha'?" he managed to answer. Dazed he looked around him "Where?" he half-asked the very familiar voice
This time, the unseen voice seemed amused, "It's changed a bit since you were last here, the pink elephants are new and the hedges used to be green, not purple, yesterday."
Jareth looked around in wonder. It looked like some maniac had painted everything in sight in the most clashing colours they could think of. It made his head hurt even more just looking at it. Trees were now growing side-ways out of walls; some were even happily growing upside down.
"Wha happened?" he tried out of a scratchy and raw mouth.
"You did," replied the voice
Jareth staggered to his feet, leaning against a very convenient tree. The labyrinth looked even worse from this vantage point. He thought about flying back to the castle, but the thought alone made him feel nauseous. Never mind how bad an idea transforming into an owl would be in such a state. That damn doctor had a very short and sticky future.