Disclaimer! Of course, I own neither the original jim henson story nor the characters..nor am I making money from my writing.
It was the first of many things that he hadn't realized. He was under the impression that the subjects of his kingdom were his, unfailingly, unwaveringly and always his. After being ruler for so long in this wasteland, he couldn't remember anything to convince him otherwise, be it the legends of former rulers, or his own dealings with the mythical vermin of this land. Blank, vacant, (if not adoring,) stares and carefree shenanigans were the common acceptance of the demeanor of goblins. One might even think they shared a horde conscience, delighting in the exact same chicken-chasing and ale binging antics of the last several centuries.
He was mistaken.
Stroking a gloved hand over his chin thoughtfully, a dull pain burned behind his eyes and dulled his vision slightly. Sleep had not come easily that night. Everything had changed. Everything he thought he knew about the land he had tyranically governed, was just another ruse. A trick upon the trickster, a facade to blind and mollify a spoiled man-child in his own pride. Things aren't always what they seem... He buried his face in his palms, hunched over his knees on the floor of his bedchambers. It wouldn't be long now. He ground his teeth and peered through his hands at the crystalline mess on the floor. Everything I have done, I have done for you. She wouldn't have appreciated it, no she hadn't, and he knew she would never get the chance to now. He turned his wavered gaze to the dark curls strewn across the floor, hiding a face that hadn't seen light for several days now. Her prostrate form obscured slightly behind one of the many chairs surrounding the hearth in his bedroom, he felt the grip of guilt seize his chest. He should not have left her on the floor. He should at least move her.. But he knew he hadn't the heart to rise from his position. He didn't dare touch her cold skin, gaze on her pale face and the deep red wound on her forhead. He didn't deserve to admire her one last time, even when he should be wringing his hands in regret and woefully lamenting her loss.
The second thing he realized that he had been mistaken about, was the story. What no one knew, was the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl... Nobody said anything about the girl falling in love with the King. It was simply assumed. Of course she pined for him, of course she had no choice but to sacrifice her grand illusions of him for her brother. She couldn't possibly be a stubborn and scared fifteen year old girl, just trying to get home. But that was exactly what she was... and he knew this the moment he whisked her away, kicking and screaming from her college dorm room some number of years later. She hadn't come willingly..Playing coy, my pet? She hadn't melted in his embrace or give in to his advances. So cruel, so stubborn, my perfect precious girl. When he had pushed her towards his bed and she screamed, faught and tried to claw his eyes out, he thought it may be the sound of his heart breaking. It wasn't until after she slumped to the floor and was silent, did he see the crystal vase shattered on the floor. It took several moments for her to stop twitching, for him to see the large dark crimson puddle surrounding her head, hair obscuring her face and firgure twisted on the floor. He stood for several moments in shock. Several long moments later, his breath shortened and he backed up several paces before stumbling to the floor. Where was the grief? The horror? Where was the anger sure to quickly replace the numbness? He concluded his actions quickly and stared at her figure on the floor.
Minutes passed.
Hours passed.
This was his kingdom, his realm. He could do as he pleased, and there would be no one to accuse or criminalize his actions. Relief swept through his body as he rose to stand, brushing his clothing off.
The third thing he realized, was his love was a fickle thing. Grown to spread across thirteen hours, to wait and lament for torturous years..only to be spurned by a mortal girl yet again, extinguished by her innate fear and frantic screams. He felt a surge of pride in himself, he, The King of the Goblins, lower himself to feel affection towards a human woman. Pish posh. She obviously brought this upon herself. He turned on his heel from the grisly scene and headed towards his chamber doors just as a tiny chuckle sounded from under his bed.
Kingggyyyyyy stayyyyy.
He lowered his hand from the door knob and turned towards the expanse of his room.
The girllll... the giiiirlll... kingy bad. KINGY BADDDD.
Several goblin voices joined the choir, hissing and twittering around every dark corner and cranny.
For the first time in centuries, Jareth was afraid.
His subjects, once believed to be innocent and mindless creatures, had allowed him reign over them for as long as he pleased. Kicking, bogging, yelling, singing and dancing as he pleased. He had never so once heard them rhetort his actions, but glancing back at the puddle of the girl, he immediately knew this was his undoing.
You remind me of the babe! The babe with the power!
A loud bang imminated from his door.. loud and hard enough to shake the hinges and rattle the bolts.
What power? The power of voo doo! Who do?!
Dread settled in his bones as he backed away from the door and settled back into his position on the carpet. Stealing glances at mess of hair across the room, he knew his whole life had been one large assumption. For their own reasons, they would not accept the girls' death. A callous would-be rape-turned-murder was unforgivable to these little cretins? He wondered how long his subjects would have allowed him to freely believe their simple minded antics. Another crashing against the door and he knew it would be soon. Like a child, he curled his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms. The giggles and growls surrounding him increasing in volume, he quaked in the first real fear of his very long life. The doors burst open, and the flood began. Tiny clawed fingers tore at his clothes, sharp teeth sank into his flesh. He cried out as they ripped his limbs from him, head lolling to the side and darkening gaze fixing once again on the dead girl across the room.
Everything I have done, I have done for you.