Labyrinth

Chapter One

Word Count: 1701 Words


Arthur Kirkland loved the thought of fantasy. Fairies, gnomes, trolls, you name it, and Arthur was bound to have a thorough description on each. Especially at the mention of goblins. Goblins, although quite grotesque looking creatures, fascinated the Englishman to no end. Of course, there was a reason to that.

No, it wasn't because of their wonderful trickery skills. In fact, it really didn't have much to do with the goblin race itself, but more or less their king. The Goblin King. He was unlike any other of their kind. Gorgeous, with bright blue eyes, curly blond hair, and a slender figure. He was, undoubtly, spawn of the gods, yet places to rule such ugly creatures. He commanded them well though. At least, that was what the books said.

His fantasy books were his life. Numerous hard-cover, fantasy books cluttered his desk and floor; along with many stuffed animals, magic ingredients, and costumes. He was so engrossed with the thought of a seperate reality, that real life hardly meant anything to him. His books, his fairytales, they could never betray him. Not like real people, the rest of them.

For the longest time, Arthur was an only child, and quite content with that. He lived with his mother and his father, both blond with green eyes, much like himself. His mother always encouraged his fantasy interest. In fact, she introduced him to it all. He loved her dearly; clearly much more than he cared for his father. And that little care for his father than he had, diminished more and more as the days past.

They were driving home from dinner one night, he was about 10 years of age, when the Kirkland's got into a car accident. His father and himself both got out-with countless injuries, but his mother didn't make it. Then, to make things worse, four years after Molly Kirkland's death, his father remarried to an Irish woman with wild red hair and bright blue eyes. From the moment he met her, Arthur knew he would never like her. He liked her even less when she popped out a little blond baby with blue eyes. The one they called "Peter."

They even had the gall to make poor Arthur watch Baby Peter.

"I'm a lot like Cinderella if you think about it."

He rested against a tree in the grass, his goblin book perched on his lap, blond hair falling in his emerald eyes. His black cape remained draped over his shoulders, his kimino style sleeves fell back when he went to flip the page.

"I clean and watch their brat for them. I do practically everything but cook for them." he continued to speak to the nothingness around him. "Only thing I don't do is cook for them, the only thing I really want to do."

But it wasn't as though Arthur could really cook in the first place.

Sighing, he looked over the words before him. Absently, each word fell from his lips in a silent chant. He did that whenever he read. Reading aloud without actually voicing it.

"You have no power over me." he muttered, a smile playing his lips as he did so.

He liked the way that line sounded, how he'd love to storm up to both his father and step-mother and just yell it to them. They had no power over him. Quite contrary to the book, with the Goblin King not having power over the young girl, Arthur wouldn't mind much being under his power. But really, Arthur didn't mind much at all in his fictional world.

Looking up at the grey sky through the foliage overhead, he decided it was best to put that book of his away. Obviously, it was readying to rain. The thick scent of water clung in the air, and he loved every second of it. But he wouldn't love his goblin book to get wet and torn from the rain though. So he placed it back in his messenger back and stood, stretching, and wiped the grass that clung to his cape and pantlegs.

In the midst of stretching, he caught glimpse of his watch. His large eyebrows raised. "Bloody hell, I'm late!"

He gathered his belongings and ran in the direction of home, inwardly smirking on just how pissed off his step-mother would be when he walked in, soaking wet and a half-hour late. Good. He hoped the table she and his father reserved for dinner was given away to a couple more deserving of it. His gaurdian's could then go stop at a local fast food resturant instead of the fancy place father originally planned.

His run broke to a nice, even stroll. His head fell back, letting the downpour soak his smiling face. Blond hair turned to a darker, brown-ish shade, and he spun in his cape-halfway down the street from his home.

"Arthur! Arthur!" Evil step-mother yelled from the porch.

Cracking an eye open, he looked down to see her, hands at her hips, looking terribly unnerved. It made him grin.

"Sorry." he apologized, hopping up the porch steps. "I lost track of time."

"Lost track of time, lost track of time. You do realize your a half-hour late." she rushed him inside, prying the cape off his back. "And you're soaked."

"Well then, I don't believe you ever considered once that you were interfering with my plans, did you?" asked Arthur, narrowing his eyes as he walked towards the steps.

"We assumed you didn't have any. You never really do." she frowned slightly, leaning against the railing. "Your father and I would love it if you hung with people your own age. If you had a date. A nice, pretty girl would sure to have caught your eye by now right?"

He snorted. "Whatever."

"Oh good, Arthur, you're home." his father walked down the steps, holding baby Peter, who was wailing ungodly, in his arms.

Instead of replying, Arthur brushed past him and walked to his room, hearing his step-mother and father talk in some sort of mutter. Whatever they were saying really didn't concern him, even if it really did. Honestly, what teen wanted to sit in on a Saturday night and watch their half-brother, while they could be very well outside playing in the rain.

At least Peter would be asleep soon enough.

He heard the front door slam.

Falling on his bed, Arthur looked around at his cluttered room and gave a weak smile. This was the only part of his house that was actually home. He had his fantasy books, his costumes, his shelves full of knick-knacks and music boxes and his favorite stuffed ani-

"THAT BRAT!"

Jumping up abruptly, after realizing something was out of place, he rushed out of his room and into the next bedroom, seeing Peter in his crib with exactly what Arthur was missing. It was a green, plush, creature with wings, the only color he didn't have double on. His favorite one. And it was in the grubby little hands of that brat half-brother of his.

"Do you think it right to be stealing other peoples things?" asked Arthur, snatching it back.

Instantly, the baby started crying. His round cheeks pulling down to a frown, his wide blue eyes closing with tears streaking his face. He fell down onto the mattress, crying loud as he possibly could.

Groaning, Arthur threw the winged creature on the bed and went to pick the baby up. "It's by fault of your own, you realize, why you're crying."

He bobbed him up and down a bit, holding the boy in his arms and sighing. The crying went on.

"Nothing gives you, or anyone else, right to enter my room. My room is MINE. Not yours. Not your dirty mother's. Nor our good-for-nothing father's. Is that understood?" He looked down at the baby who just kept crying. "You don't even understand me, do you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

That didn't work.

"Ugh! Shame the goblins aren't here, in'it? He continued trying to soothe the baby with his actions. "They could sweep you away in a matter of seconds, you know. Take you off my hands. Make me free. Really, it's a right shame they can't take me instead."

He continued pacing the room with the baby in his arms.

"In the book, they take her brother. The should take my brother. To the castle just beyond through the tricky labyrinth and just beyond the Goblin City. You'd like that wouldn't you?" He looked down at the baby who continued to cry. "Insufferable little brat, of course you wouldn't. Then you wouldn't be able to pester me senseless."

Rocking the baby in his arms, he wondered if there was an off switch somewhere. That would make his life so much easier. But alas, there wasn't. What was he to do? And where were the goblins when you needed them.

"Goblin King, Goblin King," he chanted, looking up at the ceiling, holding the baby up. "Take this child away from me!"

When that only increased the yelling, Arthur decided it best to just give up. He placed Peter back in the crib and walked over the reach his green plushie.

"It's not use." he muttered. "Bloody wanker..."

He walked to the door and opened it, deciding he'd need an aspirin after that, and shut the light off. "I wish the Goblin King would come and take you away." he grumbled, taking one last glimpse at the crying baby. "Right now."

Walking back down the hall, he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Thanking whatever higher being made that kid finally stop crying.

Wait...

Turning around, he glanced back at the door. "Er...Peter?" He took a step forward, and opened the door.

It was dead silent, and something was moving around in the crib.

"Peter?"

Something was definitly up.