The Prophecy
I
Punishable Crimes
Chapter 1
The chamber was cold, and a deathly silence circled around every being, nearly suffocating them. The council sat in a half-moon, their white robes covering their faces, and their identities, from the prying eyes of the crowd. The verdict was plain, the young man in front of them had been found guilty of an unspeakable crime, but the youth was barely paying attention to them.
He had dropped his head the moment they had reentered the court; after catching a few glimpses of their steely gazes he could stand it no longer. Being convicted of a crime he did not commit was unthinkable, inconceivable, but here he was, on trial. He sighed as the bell chimed signaling the court into order.
A councilman, dressed in the ceremonial whites, stood and dropped back his hood. The sharp features, and cruel eyes stared down at the youth, and he waited patiently for the boy to raise his head, but the youth was stubborn, and after a few minutes the councilman realized the boy had no intention whatsoever of acknowledging them, and that would not do.
"Jareth, you will show this court the proper respect and face us as we sentence you." The man's voice was cruel, and stung, and the crowd held their breath for the boy's response.
Jareth thought about not responding, but what would it really accomplish? Everyone already knew him to be stubborn, why waste pride on a moment such as this? His punishment was going to be severe either way, why worsen it by being insubordinate. Irritated for his cowardice, Jareth snapped his head toward the High Council Man and placed such an intimidating mask over his face the councilman inhaled a quick breath.
"Are you ready to precede then, Jareth?"
Jareth shook his head, and turned once more to the crowd, the same people that sneered and taunted him. With outstretched hands he implored them, "I have not done this crime, I have never done anything of this kind, and though I certainly have offenses against me, I did not do this!" He spun back to the council, which watched with weary eyes. "All the magic in this world would support my claim, and yet you do not ask it, you would rather base your opinions on soiled testimony and biased opinions, and well, so be it!" He paused a moment, rather embarrassed at his outburst, and took a second to watch the council. Their faces did not change, their opinions where still the same, and he was doomed. With a trembling sigh, and heavy shoulders, he nodded. "Very well, let me here what my sentence shall be."
Though the High Councilman would never admit it, he was awed by Jareth's behavior in the courtroom. Never had he seen anyone accept their punishment with such grace, perhaps there was even distaste, and the High Councilman knew that Jareth, for all his character traits against him, was a valuable asset to the race. A small smile tugged at his lips, but he quickly suppressed the grin, for this was no laughing matter.
"Very well. Jareth, you have been charged with the kidnapping and killing of a mortal child, and though your plea of "Not guilty" was noted, we have had several testimonies stating today that you had ample time to accomplish this crime. Several other witnesses have stated that on many different occasions you were spotted returning from the mortal world, is this not true?"
Jareth winced. So the council planned on using a legitimate crime he had committed to convict him of this one. Jareth just sighed, "It is true that I often visit the Aboveground without permission," the crowd roared at this outrage, but Jareth shrugged and kept his eyes on the council, "I have done this many times, and only now has there been a death, and it was not on my part."
The High Councilman waved the crowd silent and stared down at the boy. "Regardless of past crimes, it is this one that has been brought before us. We have found you guilty, Jareth."
Those words, he had expected them, had even tried to prepare for them, but the finality of his councilman's tone nearly broke him into tears. The assembly laughed and cheered at his demise, and all Jareth could do was look down at his leather boots. He had not really expected much, had really expected to be convicted, but the truth hurt like hell. A small tear escaped his eye and he angrily brushed it away. Instead, he straightened his back and faced the council. "Very well," he was more than pleased his voice didn't crack, "what shall be my punishment then?"
A quiet hush fell on the crowd, and all held their breath. The High Councilman sat, and another, to his side, stood and dropped the hood. Beneath that white robe stared a woman's face, smooth, and strong, with mismatched eyes, with a thin frown scowling at him. Jareth forced himself not to cry, and not run to that woman; it was unfair to have his own mother sentence him, even if that was her right to do as the Councilwoman, but his own mother…He met her eyes, and she met his with no mercy at all.
"Jareth," she spat his name, "we have decided to banish you from here." Swallowing, Jareth nodded slowly. Banishment was better than death. The Councilwoman continued without thought of her son's plight, "The desert to the south of here has long been a hotly debated issue among the royalty, for though none wish to rule it, they all wish to own it. We have solved this matter by granting it to you." Jareth's eyes lit up for a moment. Was this banishment, or was he getting another chance. His mother's cruel laughter shattered all optimistic outcomes. "You shall rule there, Jareth, in a magnificent castle, in the middle of a terrible Labyrinth that shall be your prison, and your only friend. The stipulations of your punishment shall go as follows; One: You shall not be permitted to venture outside of that Labyrinth, but whatever you do within its borders is up to you. Two: You shall not have any contact with us after this trial, for you are dead to us, you do not exist. Three:" and this time she lowered her voice so only Jareth and the immediate councilmen around her could hear, "try not to go insane, son."
That was all he remembered for quite some time. Slowly, like the beginning drops of a down poor, his thoughts returned, and with them, his current predicament. He sat on the floor, a wonderfully shiny floor, in the middle of an awfully quiet throne room; bereft of color, of life, of sound, and of freedom. His mother's voice echoed into his head and he brought his hands to cover his ears. So this was to be his existence; a lonely king, in a desolate desert, trapped inside a castle? The pain welled inside of him; threatened to overcome him, and he did the only thing he could possibly think of…he cried.
Chapter 2
Time was of no consequence in that barren labyrinth. The days came and went, years passed, but time did not affect the king that sat sadly on his bitter throne. Early in his "reign", the boredom and silence had taken its toll, he did not fight his loneliness anymore, he did not reminisce his days as a youthful, if not disobedient, boy; in fact, he hardly recalled his life at all, for surely this façade was no life.
He sighed and shifted uncomfortably in the stone throne and threw a leg over the arm rest, looking very disinterested at his empty throne room, and then, very quietly a whisper reached out to him. He closed his eyes and felt the voice wrap around him, small tendrils caressed his face and pulled him to stand. The voice was so small, he could barely make out the words, but he wished to hear more, any sound was better than the continual silence or the sound of his breathing. Straining to hear the words, a small child's voice finally focused into comprehension.
"I wish you did not exist, I wish you were anywhere but here," the litany continued and Jareth was more than curious as to why he was hearing this morbid request. "I wish you were dead," the onslaught continued, and Jareth sneered in disgust. Who would wish such horrible things? He concentrated on finding the source, but the signal was so weak. Finally latching on the to the voice's source, Jareth gaped at the origins. This child, this pleading, cruel child, was Aboveground. His mouth dropped and then Jareth smirked. Of course, it would be the voice of a child Aboveground that Jareth heard; it was only a damned child that got him into this mess to begin with. He sighed, wishing he could ignore the child, but the voice was persistent, aggravating the king to no end, forcing Jareth to finally shout, "Enough!"
The strength to speak winded him, and he leaned on the floor to catch his breath. Had it really been that long since he spoke? He found he could not give himself an accurate estimate of how long he had sat on that throne of nothingness. The child's voice would not dissipate, and Jareth growled a low, deep growl that shook the foundation. "If that child will not stop of his own account, I will make him stop." He stood from the floor slightly dusting his clothes and smirked, "After all, they all think I stole a child, why not make false true?
And so Jareth, in his utter boredom, found a way to escape the Labyrinth and the Underground, and to spread his wings to fly, even if the chain was still attached. He took those children wished away; he took them and kept them, and was at first horrified when their precious little bodies changed from soft pink hues, to the thick, leathery hide of the goblins. He had no control over their transformation, nor did he want any. The sounds that they brought with them were a welcome distraction to the silence, and he found he now had subjects, even if he did not exert much will on them, they were still his goblins.
It was not much later that he decided to allow the more pathetic humans, the ones that begged and pled and cried for their siblings' return, a way to earn the baby back. They would run the Labyrinth. His Labyrinth, which he hadn't given a second thought to in those many years, would finally find a use. Though he found joy in little, and was cruel to his subjects, Jareth began to live again, but he still was trapped inside his own shell. He refused his emotions access to his body, he steeled himself towards the lonely truth that he shall always be alone, even with the horde of goblins, he would remain alone.
And then there was Sarah. She had caught his attention once before by play acting in the park. That old, red book she loved mimicked his life so well, but he was not responsible for it; just amused. Many days he had sat in his owl form gazing at the girl, not really understanding what it was he was feeling, not even realizing he was feeling. He did recognize a longing though, a longing to maybe belong. When she stupidly wished her brother away he was ecstatic, for now she was his…but his life never went as planned, and this was no exception. She was so vibrant, and electric, he had not really expected her to beat him, in fact, he had not expected to remember her name, mortals were rarely important enough to remember, but she had struck a cord in his cold, dead, heart. He had meant what he had said to her, over and over again, but at the time, did not understand what he was saying. How could he? He had sworn no emotion would rule over him, but the girl had won his Labyrinth, an oddity in itself, and had made Jareth reflect on his self and what he had become, and he was thoroughly disgusted.
After she returned to her realm, and celebrated with her new friends, his "subjects", Jareth flew home, and upon landing on his stone window began laughing. Not a bitter laugh, or a cruel laugh, but a real laugh. It was a laugh that expressed happiness at having found something valuable, and that was exactly how Jareth had felt. That bright eyed girl had reminded him how to feel, and that joy flowed through him, overwhelmed him until all he could do was laugh. She may have defeated the Labyrinth, but Jareth was positive, for once, he came out better.
Chapter 3
The council sat solemnly at the wooden table, dressed in their casual green cloaks rather than the ceremonial whites. The stone room was encased in such a think darkness, the windows were shaded, and only a small candle in the middle of the table glowed; flickering strange oranges and blacks on the frowning faces. The reason for this secret meeting settled uneasily with many of them, but they were all required to attend, for they planned on amending a punishment set years before. Before beginning though, the High Councilman must appear, and the messenger had informed them he would be rather late, so the council of eight sat quietly and tried to ease their fidgeting. All expect one. She sat straight and her eyes focused on the glowing candle; the light reflecting eerily in the mismatched gaze.
The tension was rising, and many thought the silence would destroy them, but the door opened and the aging High Councilman entered looking ragged and tired. Many of the other council members were aware of his worsening conditions, but seeing him looking so old frightened them, and they kept their eyes on his form as he sat at the head of the table.
"Well, so here we are." He began with out preamble. The council straightened in their seats and began taking deep breaths again. "We all know our purpose for this meeting?" Satisfied by the nodding and confirmations, the High Councilman turned his attention to the councilwoman by his side staring blankly at the glowing candle. "Tell me, Councilwoman," he began smoothly, "do you wish to continue, or shall we excuse you from these procedures."
The woman snapped her eyes towards the High Councilman and laughed a haughty laugh, "I sentenced him once before, obviously not well enough. This time, there will be no mistakes."
A small councilwoman cleared her voice, "Why are we re-sentencing him, Sir?" The council slowly turned to her, some faces angry, some curious like she. "He has obeyed our previous rules, which we all doubted he would. Jareth has not honestly broken any of the rules to which he was bound." The councilwoman with odd eyes glared at her and she shivered, but did not break down. "I also think it unwise to hold any sort of discussion without his presence." Many voices rose to agree, but the bright eyed councilwoman stood and pounded a fist on the table.
"Enough!" The room quieted and turned their gazes to her imposing figure. She reveled in the power she held over them. Power was everything, after all. She lifted a delicate brow and began walking around the table, stalking the other members. "Would you wait for him to take your children? Wait for him to kill again?" The fear in their eyes was evident, and she could taste their fright on her tongue. "No? That is why we must punish him adequately."
"Sit down, Councilwoman." The High Councilman's voice was not loud, but there was no room for negotiation in the command, so the councilwoman angrily sat back in her seat. Jareth, always Jareth. That boy never ceased to amaze him. Even when banished from their world he was still a debated topic. The High Councilman smiled inwardly. He had no doubt that Jareth would bend the rules they had set around him, but his finding the passage to the Aboveground by changing forms was the most clever thing he had ever heard of. Now, the banished boy was a king, a king of goblins, of several different subjects, and Jareth managed to have contact with the humans from the Aboveground once again. Would Jareth never cease to amaze him? He highly doubted it, but turning his attention back to the council he shook his head sadly. "This procedure shall be different than before. All we need is a majority to re-sentence Jareth." He watched the heads nod and sighed, "Very well. All who believe Jareth was punished too lightly send your votes." Six ballots floated from six council member's outstretched hands and the High Councilman sighed. Six of the nine had voted. The decision was made, and he fought from lowering his head. The boy had been punished enough by his standards, but the majority had spoken. He stood slowly, and took a ragged breath. "I did not vote in this, and I will not participate in the punishment." Shocked members gaped at him and rose to question, but the High Councilman raised a hand. "No. Jareth has been punished one too many times by my hand. This is your decision, now deal with it." He turned and left the room, fists clinched and jaw tight.
The Councilwoman laughed as the High Councilman left, "He is an old fool!" The council members stared at her and not for the first time questioned her sanity. "Listen to me, Jareth is a wildcard, a weakness in our existence, but none of us are truly strong enough to destroy him, for he has grown powerful in his isolation." The group just nodded, but cringed when the woman's eyes took a dangerous tint. "Together though, now that is a different story." She smiled, but it was less than comforting and the members shivered. "Let me tell you what I have planned…"
II
The New Babe
Chapter 4
Years Later…
Sarah rocked the baby in her arms around the clean hospital suite and cooed gently at the blue-eyed beauty that slept in her arms wrapped in a fuzzy pink blanket. The little girl was adorable, and Sarah was overcome. It had been quite some time since a baby had been in her world, for Toby was certainly not a baby anymore. Sarah nuzzled the little girl, which elicited a giggle from the woman lying exhaustedly in the bed.
"Stop that, Sarah," the woman teased in a soft voice. Child birth was certainly not an easy experience, and though hours had passed her body was still recuperating from the ordeal. Sarah nuzzled the baby again and the woman laughed, cringing slightly as the sore stomach muscles tightened. "Sarah! You're going to have her spoiled before she can even smile!"
Sarah just stuck her tongue out, "Of course, Carol! That's the whole point of being a godmother." She smiled and placed the sleeping babe down in the cradle next to Carol's exhausted form. "You should get some rest, you look awful."
"Ha!" replied Carol. "Let's see how hot you look after giving birth!"
"No thank you." Sarah sat gently on the bed and hugged her closest friend. "You did really well today, I'm really proud of you." Carol buried her head in Sarah's shoulder. "At least someone is." Sarah smiled and stroked Carol's messy, mousy hair. Carol's family had been less than pleased when she had turned up pregnant, especially when Carol couldn't pinpoint the father. "I don't remember sleeping with anyone, honestly!" Sarah remembered Carol crying out. Her friend was far from the angel, more like the town slut, but Sarah loved her anyway, she had even mention abortion, to which Carol vehemently disagreed to. "I will not punish a baby for something I have done!" Her will was ironclad, and Sarah had promised to support her decision anyway possible, which led to her rocking her friend in the hospital room hours after helping Carol give birth.
Sarah yawned, "I have to go, Hun," Carol shook her head, but Sarah laughed and gently pried herself away from the woman. "I'll come back tomorrow, I promise, but I have work tomorrow, and the kiddies will not understand if I'm half asleep in the classroom."
Guilt, Sarah was using guilt, and though that made her feel a little guilty, she knew the guilt would work on Carol, who pouted but rested back on her pillow. With a sigh she shook her head, "I know Sarah, I know…but I'm scared…"
"Scared of what?" She smiled softly, "You'll do fine, and you can always call a nurse if you get nervous. Those nurses know more than I do, that's for sure!" Carol still looked sad, but Sarah could not stay at all, they both knew it. "I'll come after class, ok?" Carol nodded reluctantly and Sarah gathered her purse. "Love ya!"
Carol smiled wide, "Love you too!" She called to the retreating form before nestling down in her bed and allowing much needed rest to claim her.
Sarah walked out of the quiet hospital wing feeling quite pleased with her self. Carol had done a wonderful job, and the baby girl was just beautiful. Estimating her schedule for the next day, she imagined she'd be able to return around four. She sighed, tomorrow was testing day for her junior high students, and they would not pleased, and would probably not be very obedient, but she was used to unruly brothers, goblins, and kings, she could handle anything. She stopped cold, a few scant feet from the hospital exit and scrunched up her nose. What in the world possessed her to think of that place? It was a memory that she had buried deep in her mind, and if she was honest with herself, her heart as well, but that didn't explain why she suddenly thought of it.
She shrugged and walked out of the hospital, and nearly ran back in. The air was freezing, a sharp breeze whipped her hair around and she found herself rubbing her exposed arms for heat. It was the middle of June, why did it feel like the temperature was in the thirties! She shivered and ran to her car, mindful that other people were just as confused and following suit.
III
Ripple in the Underground
Chapter 5
It was not unheard of for the Goblin King to dream, for dreams can hold the dreamers deepest desires. And it was not unheard of for the Goblin King to dream of a beautifully cruel woman with mismatched eyes to come to him and hold him; nor was it unheard of for the Goblin King to dream of a smiling brown haired beauty by the name of Sarah, it was; however, unheard of for the Goblin King to be standing in blood, and not his blood. It swirled around his ankles, and though he was aware of the dream, he was not eager to just stand in the blood, but whenever he raised his boots out of the stickiness the blood rose. A few seconds ago it was at his knees, but it was rising fast, and he was helpless. He tried to wake himself, but a presence was holding him still, wanting him to suffocate in the thick, hot blood.
"Jareth," a voice whispered to him from the darkness, "Jareth, where are you?"
The voice frightened him, not an easy feat, and Jareth remained silent, his mismatched eyes warily watching the rising blood.
"Why do you not answer, Jareth," the voice continued. "I can make it all fade away…"
Jareth shook his head. He did not wish to fade away, he did not wish to remain neck high in blood, blood that was not on his hands, though he felt responsible, but more than anything, he did not wish to remain sleeping! He forced his mind to wake, and he did, but with a start.
He shot up from his bed, sheets clinging to his body; the fire in his room smoldering. He dropped the sheets and suddenly shivered and watched with amazement as his breath came out in wisps of white. He grabbed a robe and pulled it over his bare chest, frowning at his shaking form and walked to the window. The Labyrinth looked strange to him, but he could not pinpoint the source. A freezing wind blew past him and he shivered again and watched with horror as a small white flake floated in through the window and flitted down to the sill.
Jareth stood transfixed for a moment before allowing his mind to truly process the information. A snowflake had just fallen…he looked over the Labyrinth and dropped his jaw. The whole maze was thickly coated in the substance; the moon washed out the color and reflected the eerie white across the Underground. Snow in the Underground? Jareth scoffed at this notion. He resided in a desert; he had not seen snow fall here ever, why should there be snow here now? Something was wrong, something was awfully wrong. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on answers. Why was his Labyrinth covered in snow? And what was that dream? Not many things set Jareth on edge, but at that moment he was feeling very vulnerable, and not enjoying the sensation at all.
With aggravation, Jareth summoned a perfect crystal sphere in his hand and brought it close to his face. "What is happening?" He asked the orb. For a moment the shining crystal revealed nothing, and Jareth was about to crush the insubordinate magic, but suddenly a picture cleared and Jareth peered through to see snow falling on his land. He sighed in disgust, "Yes," he hissed, "I know it is snowing, but why is what I want to know." The image shook, as if to clear itself. The emptiness swirled and sloshed, and Jareth waited rather patiently for any sign of an answer to appear from its depths. His hand began to tighten around the crystal again in frustration, once again the crystal responded to the threat by showing a room full of eight people. Jareth squinted, trying to make out the shapes and gasped aloud as he recognized the green cloth, the cruel faces, and the haughty laugh. Those were his judges. "What are they saying?" The crystal darkened, as if trying to run from the image, but Jareth was fast. He shook the crystal hard and poured his will to the orb, "Let their words pass, or so help me," he realized arguing with a magic crystal looked rather ridiculous, but he was infuriated at the image in front of him. Slowly a voice drifted through the air, gaining volume as the voice spoke on.
"Listen to me, this is what we shall do," his mother spoke quickly, impassioned and Jareth found himself cringing. "We shall weave a spell so wonderful, so powerful, not only will it destroy his life, but it will destroy his land as well…" Suddenly the sound and the image were gone and the crystal sat still in Jareth's trembling hand.
"Show me more," he commanded, but the crystal just gave a small shudder, as if disagreeing. Jareth was outraged, and readied to throw the crystal when he allowed his common sense to return to him. The orb had done what he asked, had given him at least a path, and instead of destroying the crystal, he released the magic and watched the crystal pop out of existence with such evident relief Jareth nearly laughed. But he would have to laugh another time, for now he had a feeling that it was time for him to break his exile and return to his old home.
IV
Eyes
Chapter 6
Sarah was aware of the eyes following her as she moved silently through her dream. She found herself staring at the gate to the Labyrinth, but something was wrong. She was shivering, and she was cold down to the bone. The once red sky was darkened by thick, black clouds that hung low over her head. The air was crisp and her teeth began to chatter. This was nothing like her first visit, and though she knew it was a dream, she was at a loss as to why she was dreaming the Labyrinth was frozen over. The wind chilled her arms and she rubbed them ferociously, her nightgown offering no protection, all the time quite aware that there were eyes on her. A feeling of pure dread swept over her and she turned to look behind her. Nothing was there, nothing but the ice covering the tree, but the eyes were still following her.
She took a few steps towards the Labyrinth gate and felt as if her soul was being ripped from her body. She suddenly found herself thrown into a room; a beautiful stone room with a roaring fire and an inviting bed, but more importantly she found herself staring straight into the eyes of a man she had not seen in nearly fifteen years. Those eyes, his eyes were always so sad. He seemed to be looking at something far away, and as she was about to speak to him she was ripped from her spot again, and thrown into a new place…a dark place. A place she was vaguely familiar with, but that did not comfort her in the least. An oubliette was always the last place she wanted to be.
The sensation of being watched followed her into this place and Sarah nearly screamed, but a new sensation flowed over her. It was just a dream right? She had control in her dreams, right? She began to wish fervently that she woke, she wished and wished and wished, and slowly she felt her mind slip back into consciences and pull her body from slumber.
The night air was crisp to her lungs, and she huddled closely to the blanket, listening to her breathing and reveling in the fact that she was awake, and in familiar areas. Those eyes were still upon her though, and she was not sure if they belonged to that far away king or not, but one thing was for certain; there would be no sleeping for the rest of the night.
Chapter 7
The double doors leading to the council chambers blasted open with such a raw magnitude of power, six of the council members ducked beneath the table. In a shower of glitter a dark form strode into the room, hair flowing wildly, black cape snapping viscously, and two mismatched eyes swept over the council as he entered. No longer was he a boy set on trial, now he was a king in full glory, in full power, and his anger radiated through the room. Jareth's eyes rested squarely on the High Councilman, who was rather shocked at Jareth's arrival. Shocked, but immensely amused at the same time.
The High Councilman stood and gave a small bow to the imposing King. "Your Highness," he said with a cruel voice, "To what do we owe this honor."
Jareth scowled and he crossed his arms looking quite bored, "I wish to speak to you alone, Sir."
The councilwoman with the cruel eyes that matched his own stood quickly, "You do not belong here, Jareth! You were forbidden entry to the city by the banishment." Jareth looked at his mother with cold calculation. She was powerful, he was much more so, and any fear that he once felt towards her disappeared when he felt the sheer amount of energy he controlled. She had no more power over him.
He took a step towards her, and watched as a glint of fear shaded her eyes. That made him smile at her. "What, not pleased to see me?" He purred as he stalked closer to her, "As of the banishment," he stared at the council and purposefully turned his back on his mother, a motion that infuriated her, "that contract was made null and void by you imposing a new sentence on my head." Jareth paused and enjoyed the shocked council's faces before turning back to the High Councilman. "This is what I wanted to speak to you about."
The High Councilman stared at his council of bumbling idiots, and rested his eyes warily on the fuming expression of the odd eyed beauty. Jareth was brave facing this crowd, especially knowing what he knew. Together they were powerful, but Jareth had them so scared of his magic they remained dumbstruck; which was highly entertaining. He smiled to the king and nodded, "Very well, Jareth, follow me."
Chapter 8
The private chambers of the High Councilman were large, spacious, and decorated with soft leather chairs, dark wood furniture that included several book shelves and a huge desk, which the High Councilman sat behind, easing his way into his comfortable chair, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the pacing king. To say Jareth was mad was an understatement, the High Councilman could feel Jareth's anger cascading off him, and he waited patiently for the king to calm down. A quick turn from Jareth caused a vase in the far corner to shatter, the excess energy causing havoc. The High Councilman laughed aloud, "Come and sit down, Jareth, before you break more of my furniture."
Jareth stopped pacing instantly, and like a child scolded lowered his head as he saw the broken pieces of the vase. He pushed his hand through his hair and lowered himself into one of the leather chairs. "I'm sorry, Addoyn, I'm just at a loss here. How could you allow them to do this?"
The High Councilman stared at Jareth, eyes searching the kings lowered face for answers. Many years ago, centuries possibly, he had stopped his name from being spoken, had hidden his name; none were suppose to know it, but Jareth uttered it like he had known if forever. After a few more minutes, Addoyn realized Jareth had no idea what he had done, and began laughing. Jareth snapped his head forward and glared at the High Councilman. Seeing this, Addoyn raised his hands in peace. "I am not laughing at your situation, Jareth, for I believe it is unjust as well." Jareth's eyes softened and were instead replaced with a curious glint. Addoyn smiled, "Do you realize what you have spoken?"
Jareth, taken aback, thought a few second and rewound their conversation. He had said nothing odd, expect maybe apologizing. He looked up at the High Councilman, meeting his eyes and slightly shook his head. This caused the High Councilman to laugh again and Jareth frowned, "Addoyn, this is not…" his voice trailed off as the man he had known for his whole life as the "High Councilman" finally had a name. "Addoyn?"
Addoyn nodded slowly, "How long have you known my name, Jareth?" Jareth paled noticeably, and Addoyn smiled softly. "It is very strange to hear it uttered after all this time, but I honestly cannot think of any I would want to say it more than you." Addoyn sighed. He was aware that Jareth was watching him, and waiting for a better explanation, but Addoyn did not wish to elaborate. Jareth may be a king, but Addoyn was still entitled to his secrets. Instead, he took a deep breath, "I knew you would be angry about the decision to amend your sentence, how much do you know?"
Jareth clinched and un-clinched his jaw a second before answering, "I asked the magic to show me what was happening to my realm." He met Addoyn's silence and continued, "It is covered with snow; all of it. The Labyrinth does not know how to handle this, and neither do I." He paused and took a deep breath, "I feel there is more to this sentence than a blizzard."
"You are wise to think so," Addoyn replied softly. With a wave of his hand a steaming cup appeared on the desk and he gingerly wrapped his bony fingers around the warmth. "That woman," he continued, "wishes nothing more than to destroy you, odd is it not?" Jareth just looked away. Addoyn watched him for a second more remembering times when Jareth was just a small child playing in his court. Always was he trailing behind his mother, always with adoration in his eyes; he had never seen a child show such love to a parent, and never had he seen such contempt from a mother to a child. "I think she has always been afraid of you, Jareth."
A sigh escaped his lips, and he leaned his head against the rest of the chair, "I've done nothing to her; nothing at all. What spell did she have them weave, Addoyn?" Jareth was tired of dancing in circles around this topic, he wanted answers; he wanted to know the depths of his sentence.
"I was honest when I said I was not part of the sentencing," Addoyn replied regretfully, "and all I can tell is that they have cursed you." He watched Jareth's brows furrow, and another wave of angry energy poured off him. "Perhaps not just you, Jareth, but perhaps the land, and all that you care for." Again he waited and watched to gauge Jareth's reaction. The anger he had felt drained a little replaced by a sort of despair, and Addoyn pitied Jareth more than any other.
"All that I care for?" Jareth balled his fist. "What right do they have?" He stood so quickly the chair was knocked over. "Addoyn, you must help me. They have no right! I never committed that crime; you must believe me."
Addoyn looked over the aggravated king and shook his head, "No Jareth, I do not have to believe you," Jareth's face was ashen and Addoyn smirked, "I do though, but there is something you should know about this curse before you go and try to remove it." Jareth righted the chair and sat once more, leaning forward slightly as to not miss one word of his elder's advice. "They evoked powerful magic to cast this spell; and magic that powerful tends to make a life of its own. Do you understand?" Jareth shook his head slowly and Addoyn sighed, "You must find the curse, Jareth; for I believe it has found a form after all these years. That is why the curse is coming into effect now, instead of thirteen years ago when it was cast."
Jareth's eyes hardened at this news. How many times was he going to be punished for something he did not do? How many trials did he have to endure before his freedom was granted? This life was tiring him, exhausting him, draining him, and all he could do was trudge from one disaster to another; all caused by the one being who should be protecting him, loving him. The distaste for his mother was so strong at that moment he could taste it in his mouth. He bowed deeply before the High Councilman, "Thank you, Addoyn. I appreciate all that you have done for me today, and now" he said as he stood fully, "I think I will go speak to my mother."
Addoyn nodded and watched as the rigid form of the Goblin King vanished from his room. He found himself shaking his head at Jareth's words. "I have not done enough for you, Jareth; not nearly enough." The steaming cup was brought to his lips and he sipped it, mindful of the heat.
V
Jareth
Chapter 9