So, this is by no means my first short and I'm fairly proud of it. I'd very much appreciate reviews!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Labyrinth, nor do I own the character of Jareth. Only these particular thoughts belong to me.
The crystal shone, dancing as he absentmindedly twisted it around his hand. In his other hand his cane hung loose, mostly resting on the floor. All around goblins frolicked, fawning over the newest addition to the castle, and Jareth the Goblin King sat on his throne and thought. He had been glad of the distraction of little Toby's tears, but the lad was clearly content to be on the floor amongst his future brethren. Or subjects.
Jareth wasn't entirely certain of what to do with the baby once he won. If he were being honest – something he didn't often do – it was that fact that he found most troubling. As King of the Goblins, he always knew what he wanted. No-one in his kingdom would dare refuse him anything, and ruling over goblins of all things, there was no room for uncertainty. But Toby…
Suddenly, he was jolted out of his thoughts. Jareth heard the sloshing before he felt the splash. Even once the ale met the soft, white cloth of his sleeve, it only felt cold. Cold and heavy.
Covering a shudder, he gazed sharply at the offending little creature. It scrambled away looking as terrified as it was apologetic. For the hell of it, Jareth sent some sparks after it. Then he glanced at the baby. Red-striped and gurgling, Toby seemed perfectly safe and content to sit on the floor. So, Jareth left the throne room, tap-tapping his way up the stone staircase, not bothering to bring his cane.
He realized as he ascended to the next level, he wasn't angry at the clumsy little goblin. Of course, rationally, he had no reason to be. He was magical, he could clean his shirt within relative seconds. However, on principle, one did not spill their drinks on their King. Even goblins knew that. At least, they should, sighed the voice in the back of Jareth's head.
Without ceremony, he pushed open his bedroom door. Unnecessarily, he glanced over the room once, then smirked as a thought struck him. Not quite what anyone would expect.
Despite his rather theatrical flair, the Goblin King did have surprisingly simple taste in furniture. Deep blue curtains kept the sunlight outside the castle at bay. At the foot of the bed, in front of the darkly yawning fireplace, a circular rug of the same shade lay. The bed itself was not very large – just big enough for two people to sleep in comfortably. The only extravagant thing about it was the glittering, deep blue duvet. But the sheets were white and the frame was dark brown and devastatingly plain.
The floor itself was made of the same stone as every wall in the palace and, apart from a bejeweled navy and black tapestry, his walls were bare. Beside his bed, where most people would keep an end-table, Jareth had a tall bookshelf that extended to the very end of the wall – exactly seven feet. Only the bottom shelf was empty.
As a rule, Jareth never allowed anyone through his enchanted door. Anyone or anything. If he needed to spy on someone, he did so from his throne room. It was inexplicable, intimidating, and occasionally incredibly bothersome to his subjects, but their King needed his space. They contented themselves drawing pictures in the gravel and dirt out in his courtyards with sticks of an extravagant set. Jareth only chuckled.
It was not until he reached the foot of his bed, not until he knelt to open the dark wooden trunk there, that he realized he was still clutching the crystal. And for a long moment, he sat staring at it. He knew he should return to the throne room.
Moments turn to relative minutes. Jareth was positively frozen.
He thought back to his earlier interaction with the little voice in his head. His future brethren…Or subjects…
Jareth felt very cold all of a sudden. This is not a difficult matter, he told himself. All that must be made is a simple choice. When Jareth had taken the Underground – an uncomfortable and arduous process requiring much strategic planning on his part – he had faced some incredibly difficult choices. He had done some…questionable things. Many a creature in his labyrinth would never forgive him for them, namely those in the Lost Fields. Surrounded by garbage for the remainder of their existence, ever on the outskirts of the Goblin City – he nearly shuddered to think. Compared to that, deciding the fate of little Toby should have been as easy as throwing Hoghead into the Bog of Eternal Stench. Why can't I just do it then? he wondered, internally berating himself.
A new thought struck him.
He raised the crystal to eye level, but hesitated. Should he? It would break his cardinal rule, allowing even the suggestion of another living creature into his bedroom but then, he supposed he didn't have much of a choice if he wanted to do this alone. Jareth raised his other hand, pausing to chuckle darkly before waving it over the transparent sphere. He had to laugh at this own rationalizations. Was he really concerned about a young girl? He magicked his sight through the labyrinth. When he found her, he actually felt himself falter. That too was troublesome to him. In the relatively short thirteen-hundred years of his rule Jareth had faced a number of foes. Hundreds had run his labyrinth and not one of them had reached their goal. Some had actually perished in their half-baked efforts and plenty had come close. Most simply gave up well before their thirteen hours were over.
From where Jareth sat, cold seeping into his knees, it was becoming increasingly obvious that this girl was nothing like the others.
Had he not been so very absorbed, Jareth might have cringed at the cliché his own racing thoughts had turned out. She was interrogating the guards; trying to logic her way through. In spite of himself, Jareth smirked appreciatively. At first, and for a long time, it had been rather amusing to watch people struggle with this particular riddle. After a while, however, it had begun to bore him to tears. This girl was not the first to have solved it, but it had been so very long since anyone had.
She was obviously childish. All of her concepts black and white, her attitude arrogant. From the moment he had laid eyes on her, Jareth could smell the overconfidence emanating from her. And yet…
No, he assured himself. It couldn't be. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw something. Just there, when she turned her head and the sunlight caught her eye. Again, he saw it. Yes, it was there. Not overconfidence. Arrogance in spades, but a slipping of preconceptions. And something else…what else?
There was nothing for it, the Goblin King was interested. He comforted himself with a genuine laugh at her cry of terror. That damned door. It hadn't always been there. He supposed the labyrinth had felt like testing her and the "helping" hands were more than happy to oblige.
For the first moments of her fall, he allowed himself a short distraction – a wave of the gloved hand into a new, black shirt. And once he looked away, he felt himself drawn away from the crystal. Toby. There was no doubt he'd have heard if something had happened to his newest recruit, but just in case…
Jareth actually made it to the door, crystal vanished into thin air, before he froze again. His hand seemed to be stuck to the handle and he squeezed as he reviewed that last thought over and over, turning it over to inspect from different angles. What he had thought was a startling, disappointing, and – to him at least – revolting thought. His future newest recruit. It was almost as if he doubted he could win this.
Then he realized, he did doubt it. For the first time in relative centuries, Jareth was doubting himself. And for the first time in his life, he felt…well, useless. That girl was stomping through his labyrinth as though born to it, and there was he was practically allowing it. Who was she to presume eventual victory?
She was a silly little girl who had no idea what she had until it was ripped away. A spoiled brat who simply refused to grow up. Would she learn from this mistake if she could win? Not likely. Toby was better off with him. And he would see that. He was a lively chap with an intelligent gleam in his eye.
My heir, Jareth thought with a satisfying chill. Then, with a step back and a quick blink, the surface of the door rippled. Though he couldn't see the dwarf, Jareth knew he would hear.
"Hoghead, I do hope you're passing by the oubliette," he intoned. Of course, there were several oubliettes throughout the labyrinth, but the one the girl was making her way to was special. It was where all of Jareth's unexpected guests normally landed. And where they give up, he thought with satisfaction. He heard a dutiful, if hesitant, dwarf-like grunt and exited his room. The dwarf would lead her back to the beginning of the labyrinth, just like Jareth had told him to. Even if he failed, it had been decided. Her baby brother would be Jareth's own heir. Nothing could change that.
Not even the gleam of pure, rare, remarkable determination in her eye as she solved his riddle.
"Oh Sarah," Jareth muttered with a rather nasty smile as he descended the steps to his throne room "You really must be more careful."
…so…what are we thinking? Bit of imagery, bit of angst, hinting at some potential abandonment issues with our dear Goblin King. It would certainly explain some things. Or not. At least now we have a reason for that one random costume change. Please do let me know what you think!