A/N: Greetings, children! Until further notice, my other works are on hold. I have been working on this idea for quite a while but did not like the outcome so I refrained from publishing. The beginning is a bit boring as it is more of an explanatory chapter. It hopefully gets better in later chapters. Let me know what you think!
I do not own any of the original characters featured in the movie. The Labyrinth does not belong to me, unfortunately. I only own the OCs (obviously).
Now...on with the show!
High King Oberon tensed behind his polished mahogany desk as his eldest son stormed into his study, eyes aflame.
"What is the meaning of this, father," he hissed, dropping the letter abruptly onto the desk and glaring at it distastefully. Jareth had been quite ill-tempered since his first year, however, this sudden outburst was highly uncharacteristic, even for him.
"Jareth you need an heir," the High King reasoned, his tone a peculiar mixture of sympathy and resentment. Their relationship had been increasingly strained (not that it wasn't before) as the High King's three thousandth year approached, during which it was customary that the High King and/or Queen relinquished their throne to their eldest legitimate child so that they may spend time with their families or do as they please before they are called upon to walk with the High God. High King Oberon was having none of this "ridiculous rubbish"as he so often proclaimed it to be and firmly believed that the "...tradition was created by selfish individuals who were unfit to rule any longer than necessary to preserve their oh so remarkable reputations."
"Where am I to find a bride within the year?"Jareth demanded, recalling the deadline. His father dictated that he was to marry before the sun sets on the winter solstice. Outside the vast arched window bloodroots, lilacs (he grimaced), azaleas, as well as various other vegetation that Jareth had not cared to learn the names of were in full bloom, foretelling of the celebration that was soon to come.
Beltane was fast approaching, signaling the end of spring and the beginning of summer.
"How about one of your various whores you seem to be so fond of," the High King suggested, once again that strange marriage of tones resurfacing. It was quite clear that Oberon would never want to be in Jareth's position, but oh how he relished the opportunity to jest at his son's expense. Jareth was all too aware of this fact and chose to not outwardly express his feelings. He would never give his father that sense of satisfaction although every fiber in his immaculate being ached to reach over and throttle the elder man.
"I know you have quite the vast knowledge of whores yourself. You simply cannot expect me to agree to such conditions,"Jareth ground out.
"Why not? It is either that or you forfeit the throne to Emalia." Jareth cringed at the mention of his half-sister. Emalia was the sniveling byproduct of a tryst between Jareth's father and his mother's handmaiden. Anya, the current High Queen, had begun her treacherous journey as a kitchen wench in the Royal Palace when she first caught the High King's eye and it was not long before she had crept her way into his bed. At the time, Jareth's mother had been quite ill, having suffered a near-fatal miscarriage and required around the clock care. Seizing the opportunity, Oberon promoted Anya to tend his wife's needs during the day...then satiate his own vulgar appetite in the night. However, due to Anya's careless inexperience, Jareth had to watch as his once vibrant and lively mother withered away and succumbed to infection. Three days later he was placing lilacs beneath her tombstone. They reminded her of spring.
Jareth snapped. "I would never relinquish my birthright to your precious bastard, daughter of a whore." This seemed to resonate deep within the High King.
"How dare you disrespect me, you insolent child!" Suddenly standing, the High King slammed his fist against the wall, effectively bloodying the stone in the process. "You are dismissed you, ungrateful wretch. Get out!" Alerted by the sound of distress, the Palace guards filed into the room, weapons at the ready, and quickly escorted Jareth out of the King's study. Going unnoticed by all, the sounds of muffled sobs echoed throughout the corridor.
"Get off me! I know the way out," Jareth snarled, furious yet not wanting to make a scene. Yes, a perfect way to begin your reign Jareth, getting kicked out of the Royal Palace and escorted out by guards nonetheless. Gods, what am I going to do? How can I marry someone I don't love? I refuse to make the same mistake my parents did. I would die before I became my father.
However, little did Jareth know that death may come sooner rather than later, for he could never fall in love as his very soul had already been whisked away long ago and currently lay nestled within the breast of a young mortal woman, imprisoned in a fit of unrestful slumber.
