Suffer the Consequence

A Story by Gevurah

"... even if you made it to the center of the Labyrinth, you'd never get back out again."

It Ends

The woman lounged carelessly upon the stone bench, idly playing with the dead lengths of vines that twisted her long hair loosely about her crown. She raised her gaze briefly as the King of the Goblins approached, before returning her attention on the small spider that crept lightly across her sun-browned knuckles. She waggled her fingers as the spider inches forward, creating an undulating terrain of skin over sharp knuckles.

"You let her go," she accused as the Goblin King neared, turning her hand so that the spider ran across the flat of her palm and back to her knuckles again.

He sighed and leaned one shoulder against a marble pillar, crossing his arms across his thin chest. The evening breeze tugged at his silken flowing shirt and ruffled his pale hair. "You're one to talk," he said dryly. "You avoided her."

Her gaze snapped to him. "I did nothing of the sort, Jareth," she sneered. "You know perfectly well that she wasn't in the gardens long enough to meet me."

He grinned wolfishly and crossed the small enclosure to sit on the bench opposite her. He set his riding crop to the side and stretched his long legs out before him, crossing his legs at the ankles. "I'm rather fond of that name," he commented. "It's much better than some of the others I've acquired." He shot her a pointed look. "Darien included."

"Besides," she continued, blithely ignoring his comment and returning her attention to the spider, "I'm best at preying on the hopelessly lost- whilst she had that dwarf helping her." Her expression was the image of repulsion.

He laughed viscously at that, his dark eyes alive with mirth. "I'll admit: I expected her to fail at first, but watching Hogwart lead her down the primrose path was highly entertaining."

"And still, you let her go," she said again, glaring at him from the corner of her eye.

His feral eyes glinted in the dying light and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "I never let anyone go," he said, the laughter fleeing from his voice. "You should know that better than most, dearest," he sneered. "The Labyrinth always demands a life in the end- no matter the outcome."

She scowled. "Of course I know that. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for the game."

He reclined backwards, resting one sharp elbow on the back of the bench. "Imagine Sarah's surprise when she discovers that the victor's prize is an eternity trapped within the Labyrinth." He smirked wickedly. "I always thought it was a pleasant irony that those who successfully make it through the maze must forfeit themselves, instead of the child, in the end."

It was her turn to sigh and she did so, straightening her position on the bench. "I almost feel sorry for her," she said as she brought her hand to the level of her face, peering intently at the small, black spider.

"Almost?" he questioned with an ached brow.

She shot him a dark look. "Yes, almost," she said snidely. "If there were any goodness left within me, I believe I would pity the girl. She certainly doesn't know what's she's gotten herself into."

He snorted disdainfully. "Were you ever good?"

She looked cross. "I know it's been a long time, Darien, but surely even you can remember that I wasn't all bad at one point." She looked down at the spider on her hand, her gaze faraway. "Even I was innocent once," she said softly as she leaned forward and laid the gentlest of kisses upon the spider's back. If the arachnid had vocal capabilities, surely it would have screamed. It writhed uncontrollably on her hand as its body morphed, snapping and breaking until paper thin wings the color of the darkest nightshade sprouted from its back.

The Goblin King watched the transformation with a small smile. When the newly formed butterfly took flight from her hand, he smirked. "I can only assume that this was before you wished your youngest sister away."

Her jaw tightened and she let her hand drop to her lap. "Does it please you know that you were the one to eradicate the last vestiges of decency from my soul?" she asked tightly, refusing to look in his direction.

He grinned at her sour expression, revealing sharp canines that gleamed gold in the light of the falling sun. "With all my black little heart."

They fell silent for several moments, mutely watching the play of colors that streaked across the sky as the sun dropped beneath the mountains in the distance.

"You know you're my favorite guardian, don't you?" he asked softly, his eyes still enamored with the brilliant colors above their heads.

"Guardian, hmph." She snorted indelicately. "We guard nothing. I shall never understand your preference for that title." She drew her gaze from the sky and stood to her feet. "There are better names for the likes of us."

He cocked a brow lazily and stood as well, following her as she slowly made her way through the tall hedgerows, his boots making less noise on the cobbled stone walkway than her bare feet. "I'm ever confident in the knowledge that none will leave the gardens once you've sunk your claws into them."

"And who's fault is that?" she snapped. She stopped walking and waited until he caught up to her, frowning. "We're no better than Judas," she hissed fiercely. "We deceive them, earning their trust if we must, only to lead them to their doom."

He rolled his eyes heavenward. "You're so dramatic this evening."

She sighed and covered her eyes with one hand tiredly. "I know. It's been a frustrating day." She looked up, meeting his gaze. "You know how I get when I can't play with them. That blasted dwarf got to have all the fun."

"She reminded me of you," he commented lightly as they resumed their stroll. He took her hand and gentlemanly placed it in the crook of his elbow.

"So you noticed that as well?" she asked archly, pulling her hand from his grasp. "Then perhaps, once you've brought her back, she'll prove to a better sparring partner than myself and you'll finally leave me in peace."

"Jealous?" he asked, grinning smugly.

"Of that chit of a girl?" She scowled and shook her head negatively. "The day I'm jealous of a spoiled child will be my last, I promise you."

He shook his head, still grinning. "I can always tell when you're lying."

They had reached their destination and she sat on the edge of the low pedestal base, looking up at the sky once more. "I tire of this game, Darien," she said wearily. "I know I don't look it, but I'm getting old."

"You're younger than I," he interjected, tapping his riding crop impatiently against his lean leg. The long shadows that clung to his face distorted his features and made them terrifying.

She gave him a hard look. "But you were never human." She frowned. "In fact, you were never anything at all. You just..." she trailed off, searching for the proper term. "You just are." She gestured to herself. "My body still remembers that once I was destined to die."

"Deceiving challengers for all eternity isn't your idea of fun, then?" he asked maliciously, narrowing his eyes. "Perhaps you should have thought of that before you wished your sister into my care."

She glared at him and stood to her feet, climbing to stand atop the pedestal. "I should have thought of a lot of things back then," she snapped, fisting her hands on her hips. "I was a careless, stupid girl, Darien, and now I'm spending the rest of my immortal life in purgatory for those sins."

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "So they're sins now?" He tsked, shaking his head. "You certainly are moody this evening. Where has my lioness gone, and who is this morose kit that has taken her place?"

She opened her mouth to retort, but raised her head to the sky instead in an abrupt change of demeanor. "The moon's rising," she said, her voice sounding hollow and faraway.

"As regular as clockwork," he remarked sarcastically.

She turned her gaze on him, her eyes wide in the near-darkness and deceptively tranquil. "Perhaps your lioness will return on the morrow," she said, her voice growing eerily emptier as the seconds progressed.

"Sleep," he said quietly, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "There's always tomorrow."

"Of course there's always tomorrow," she said, sounding as if she wanted to laugh. "We have all of eternity to squabble."

He watched as the transformation took place, his eyes growing soft in the budding moonlight. When it was complete, he raised one slender hand to cup her pale, marble cheek. "She reminded me of you," he said softly before dropping his hand, "wild, fierce, and passionate." He smiled to himself, alone in the moonlight. "You were both angry at the world."

He fell silent for a moment, watching as the first shards of moonlight fell upon his silent companion. "Yes," he said at length, addressing the statue before him, "Sarah will be a welcome addition to my collection of guardians- just you wait and see." He smirked and turned to go. "Eternity will have never been so entertaining."