In his throne room he sat, lounging as was his want, expression bored and
seemingly unimpressive. If the messenger from the Fey Court had known him
at all, he would have been wary, would have taken a number of steps
backwards, perhaps even left. As it was, the messenger, pompous and full
of his own self importance stood his ground, proclaiming this and that, and
that again. Jareth's eyes became harder, colder, though his expression
itself changed not a whit. ".You will present yourself at the Court in
precisely one month with your intended bride or one will be presented to
you. By order of the High King, you are required to marry and secure your
line, and further the progression of the Fey race." he didn't get any
further, with a negligent gesture the messenger disappeared. Thinking
better of sending a messenger of the High King himself, no matter his
attitude, into the Bog, Jareth deposited him in a far corner of the
labyrinth to find his way out, and back to the Court again. He would have
to send written acknowledgment and acceptance in any case; the messenger
was largely unimportant. He would also think better of taunting the Goblin
King again.
Jareth stood, running a hand through his spiky blond hair, tired and jaded with life in the Underground, wishing for some reprieve or distraction from the endless demands of the Faerie Court to see him wed, and, not unlike a prized eagle or gryphon, bred. 'For the progression of the Faerie race' it made him angry just thinking about it. He was not going to be forced, not going to sacrifice himself just so that his race would multiply in numbers and strength against the foretold war. Far from disbelieving in the well- known Telling, he lacked belief that sheer numbers if successfully produced would halt and defeat it when at last it came. In any case, the winds, magic driven and laden scented its beginnings already. Too late to wait for babes to birth and grow, he believed they should have long past, concentrated on improving and practising of defensive magic.
Placing a hand upon the castle walls, looking over his kingdom, it had been long indeed since it had seen the blood and destruction war brought with it. Longer still had the Faerie kingdoms been without threat or par, until this Telling. Sometimes he thought that the only reason anything at all was being done about the war, was that the Telling had come from the High Queen herself. Even then, she seemed more intent on proclaiming marriages and blessing babes rather than any actual defence of their realm. He loved his world, his realm, his kingdom, even his goblins, but he was jaded with the Court and its politics and purpose. He remembered the fleeting time when the mortal Sarah had taken on his great labyrinth, and, beaten it for her younger brother. So long ago, he'd looked upon her mortal life occasionally, never again partaking of the wonders of Aboveground, simply admiring and remembering, until she had passed on, old and silver, her blue eyes still merry and filled with stories and delight. If only one such as her could be found here. Faint hope. Dejected he retired to his private rooms, undressing carelessly, pulling the silk of his bed sheets around him, but finding little sleep or rest as the hours passed. Eventually he stood, curled up upon the open window's sill, staring out across the wild and untamed beauty of his labyrinth and kingdom.
Jareth let his thoughts wander. A time when all had seemed bright and new, he had been admired, respected and not feared as he was now. The Court and its Nobles had admired him then, respected and not feared him. He was the favoured son of the High King, now he was anathema. He had not seen the warning signs, he was popular, his future assured, there was no need to be wary, to worry, he'd thought. The events of his disgrace whirled through and around, back and forth within the Fae king's mind, reigniting the old anguish and betrayal he'd felt upon seeing his sister; his charming and beautiful sister behind their mother's illness. They had believed her and their mother had died, no one had thought to question the young Fae woman's motives, question the almost open hatred she'd had for their mother.
There had been months long arguments over his punishment, some had outcried that he should be made Human, as being made Human was only reserved for the worst and most treasonous of criminals. After it became apparent they were not interested in truth, only in punishment. They made him the Goblin King and passed a terrible sentence upon him - to take those children wished away by foolish and faithless mortals, to keep them forever, never again to see or be part of the Aboveground. Only in time that punishment came to hold its own strange manner of honour, respect, and not a little fear on their part. Eons had passed, many of the shorter-lived Fae of that time had parted, and the younger paid no attention to the stories of their fathers and grandfathers. Even the other long lived families were now sceptical on those fleeting years, only those of his immediate long lived family truly remembered, still punished him even now, treating him as one of the lesser Fae, not their son, not even a distant relation. Fae were sensitive to family ties, and to be accused wrongly of crimes against the family, to be denied the fellowship and blood ties of family was a cruel judgement.
Many times the Court had been forced to admit their blunder in such judgement as branding the Goblin King anathema, at every turn he made it near impossible to deal with him. Messengers went missing, diplomats never even made it through the maze, and neither did the Nobles male - or female. The years had honed the natural cruelty inherent in all Fae, strong in Jareth himself to a fine edge, tempered only by his unwillingness to use it more than necessary. It had been a score of decades since he'd last killed, and even the most staid Court member had been unwilling to condemn his judgement on the stupid Noble, newly appointed to the Court and deciding to 'personally evaluate the efficiency of Jareth's rule of the Goblin Kingdom'.
To his credit, and the surprise of the other Nobles, Jareth had let the pompous ass in, given him the 'long' tour of the labyrinth with detailed explanation. The pedantic and compulsive Noble had near gone into apoplectic shock with what he had feverishly described as 'a deplorable example of Fae rule'. This was immediately followed by his decision to 'recommend the Court reconsider their original judgement of eons past and banish the Fae king, make him Human due to his inability to govern even so rude a race as the Goblins'. The fool had barely finished his words before he was mid air and upside down before the enraged King. Spluttering more indignities and threats had only served to irritate Jareth further and instead of condemning him to the Bog for eternity he had smiled softly, dangerously, letting fly one of his beautiful crystals, it disappeared inside the Noble's body, then shattered, taking the Noble with it.
There had been no repercussions. There had been nothing said, just rumours and whispers flying, and even less attempt to make contact with him, or any other in the Goblin Kingdom. None wanted a repetition of the King's wrath, they had left him alone - today's had been the first messenger since that time. Despite this he wasn't about to drop everything and heel to the Court by taking a bride. Throwing a crystal out into the cold night air, it shattered mid air, showering the ground below in clouds of glitter, he sighed realising it had done little to calm the anger he felt inside. They were the ones who had created him this way, moulded him, and though he acted independently, ruled by none, even his father the High King, he still felt the raw wound of betrayal. He thought more and more often on the situation these days, it had become opened and bothersome after the rejection of the mortal Sarah. He'd allowed himself to love, to care, and she'd rejected him, and everything he stood for. He'd forevermore resisted the temptation to contact her again, though had watched, pained as she grew older, less able, and then finally, was there no longer.
Mentally he cursed himself and his depression. It would not help him with the winds bringing the scent of war. Preparations must be made, he knew what he should do, and the cold and ruthless part of him made it seem so easy. Seal the labyrinth and its inhabitants within, the war without unable to breach it. Only, he told himself, what if it did? An even smaller voice still protested his lack of interest in the innocent lives at stake. Sighing he shattered yet another crystal taking to his wings out the window and into the night, flying far and finally relaxing. When he returned exhausted, Jareth finally slept oblivious to the world outside, anguish still evident in his sleeping expression. All the while, the war crept closer, borne on magic laden winds, it grew in strength still far, so far away, but closer and hungrier all the time.
Jareth stood, running a hand through his spiky blond hair, tired and jaded with life in the Underground, wishing for some reprieve or distraction from the endless demands of the Faerie Court to see him wed, and, not unlike a prized eagle or gryphon, bred. 'For the progression of the Faerie race' it made him angry just thinking about it. He was not going to be forced, not going to sacrifice himself just so that his race would multiply in numbers and strength against the foretold war. Far from disbelieving in the well- known Telling, he lacked belief that sheer numbers if successfully produced would halt and defeat it when at last it came. In any case, the winds, magic driven and laden scented its beginnings already. Too late to wait for babes to birth and grow, he believed they should have long past, concentrated on improving and practising of defensive magic.
Placing a hand upon the castle walls, looking over his kingdom, it had been long indeed since it had seen the blood and destruction war brought with it. Longer still had the Faerie kingdoms been without threat or par, until this Telling. Sometimes he thought that the only reason anything at all was being done about the war, was that the Telling had come from the High Queen herself. Even then, she seemed more intent on proclaiming marriages and blessing babes rather than any actual defence of their realm. He loved his world, his realm, his kingdom, even his goblins, but he was jaded with the Court and its politics and purpose. He remembered the fleeting time when the mortal Sarah had taken on his great labyrinth, and, beaten it for her younger brother. So long ago, he'd looked upon her mortal life occasionally, never again partaking of the wonders of Aboveground, simply admiring and remembering, until she had passed on, old and silver, her blue eyes still merry and filled with stories and delight. If only one such as her could be found here. Faint hope. Dejected he retired to his private rooms, undressing carelessly, pulling the silk of his bed sheets around him, but finding little sleep or rest as the hours passed. Eventually he stood, curled up upon the open window's sill, staring out across the wild and untamed beauty of his labyrinth and kingdom.
Jareth let his thoughts wander. A time when all had seemed bright and new, he had been admired, respected and not feared as he was now. The Court and its Nobles had admired him then, respected and not feared him. He was the favoured son of the High King, now he was anathema. He had not seen the warning signs, he was popular, his future assured, there was no need to be wary, to worry, he'd thought. The events of his disgrace whirled through and around, back and forth within the Fae king's mind, reigniting the old anguish and betrayal he'd felt upon seeing his sister; his charming and beautiful sister behind their mother's illness. They had believed her and their mother had died, no one had thought to question the young Fae woman's motives, question the almost open hatred she'd had for their mother.
There had been months long arguments over his punishment, some had outcried that he should be made Human, as being made Human was only reserved for the worst and most treasonous of criminals. After it became apparent they were not interested in truth, only in punishment. They made him the Goblin King and passed a terrible sentence upon him - to take those children wished away by foolish and faithless mortals, to keep them forever, never again to see or be part of the Aboveground. Only in time that punishment came to hold its own strange manner of honour, respect, and not a little fear on their part. Eons had passed, many of the shorter-lived Fae of that time had parted, and the younger paid no attention to the stories of their fathers and grandfathers. Even the other long lived families were now sceptical on those fleeting years, only those of his immediate long lived family truly remembered, still punished him even now, treating him as one of the lesser Fae, not their son, not even a distant relation. Fae were sensitive to family ties, and to be accused wrongly of crimes against the family, to be denied the fellowship and blood ties of family was a cruel judgement.
Many times the Court had been forced to admit their blunder in such judgement as branding the Goblin King anathema, at every turn he made it near impossible to deal with him. Messengers went missing, diplomats never even made it through the maze, and neither did the Nobles male - or female. The years had honed the natural cruelty inherent in all Fae, strong in Jareth himself to a fine edge, tempered only by his unwillingness to use it more than necessary. It had been a score of decades since he'd last killed, and even the most staid Court member had been unwilling to condemn his judgement on the stupid Noble, newly appointed to the Court and deciding to 'personally evaluate the efficiency of Jareth's rule of the Goblin Kingdom'.
To his credit, and the surprise of the other Nobles, Jareth had let the pompous ass in, given him the 'long' tour of the labyrinth with detailed explanation. The pedantic and compulsive Noble had near gone into apoplectic shock with what he had feverishly described as 'a deplorable example of Fae rule'. This was immediately followed by his decision to 'recommend the Court reconsider their original judgement of eons past and banish the Fae king, make him Human due to his inability to govern even so rude a race as the Goblins'. The fool had barely finished his words before he was mid air and upside down before the enraged King. Spluttering more indignities and threats had only served to irritate Jareth further and instead of condemning him to the Bog for eternity he had smiled softly, dangerously, letting fly one of his beautiful crystals, it disappeared inside the Noble's body, then shattered, taking the Noble with it.
There had been no repercussions. There had been nothing said, just rumours and whispers flying, and even less attempt to make contact with him, or any other in the Goblin Kingdom. None wanted a repetition of the King's wrath, they had left him alone - today's had been the first messenger since that time. Despite this he wasn't about to drop everything and heel to the Court by taking a bride. Throwing a crystal out into the cold night air, it shattered mid air, showering the ground below in clouds of glitter, he sighed realising it had done little to calm the anger he felt inside. They were the ones who had created him this way, moulded him, and though he acted independently, ruled by none, even his father the High King, he still felt the raw wound of betrayal. He thought more and more often on the situation these days, it had become opened and bothersome after the rejection of the mortal Sarah. He'd allowed himself to love, to care, and she'd rejected him, and everything he stood for. He'd forevermore resisted the temptation to contact her again, though had watched, pained as she grew older, less able, and then finally, was there no longer.
Mentally he cursed himself and his depression. It would not help him with the winds bringing the scent of war. Preparations must be made, he knew what he should do, and the cold and ruthless part of him made it seem so easy. Seal the labyrinth and its inhabitants within, the war without unable to breach it. Only, he told himself, what if it did? An even smaller voice still protested his lack of interest in the innocent lives at stake. Sighing he shattered yet another crystal taking to his wings out the window and into the night, flying far and finally relaxing. When he returned exhausted, Jareth finally slept oblivious to the world outside, anguish still evident in his sleeping expression. All the while, the war crept closer, borne on magic laden winds, it grew in strength still far, so far away, but closer and hungrier all the time.