The Goblin King sprawls over his throne in a manner that, from a distance, might seem aloof, regal even, but in actuality is the result of naught but boredom. It's almost the time of Yuletide, and as a result, his summons Aboveground are few and far between. There are no squabbling siblings – no requests for the fearsome Goblin King to steal away squalling babies and bothersome brats. No, all the children are on their best behaviour to honour the man their parents warn them of – the one that modern-era humans call the Father of Christmas, or Saint Nicholas. Once again, Jareth thinks to himself he'll never get used to the idea – having met the real Nikolaos himself some time ago, he knows first-hand that the man was no saint. Still, for whatever reason, 'tis the season for peace and goodwill to all men, women, children, and animals alike, and the resulting free time a pouting Jareth finds himself with is dull, dull, dull.
What he wouldn't give for a little excitement – a simple challenger or two to dangle above one of his oubliettes until such time as they admit defeat. Just a bit of harmless fun, although he imagines his dear Sarah wouldn't quite see it that way. Honestly, eight years now to grow up in, and the woman remains as irritatingly self-righteous and innocent to the ways of the world as she was as a teenager. Well, perhaps not quite so innocent, thanks to him.
He smiles to himself as he shifts into a more comfortable position to ponder in, the train of his thoughts taking him in a rather more amorous direction. He thinks, as he so often does, of the rather delicious turn their roles have taken on in the past few years. There's no name, as such, for what they are to one another; he has no power over her, after all, and any talk of love between them only tends to occur when she takes him inside her. He does not pine for her when they are apart – she never takes too long to come back to him. Sometimes he takes other women to his bed in her place, and knows she does the same with the odd boyfriend. He is most jealous, of course, but he thinks he would not have it any other way. It's always an exciting challenge to coax her back, and most satisfying for them both when she comes.
She asked him, once, what would have become of her if she had lost all those years ago – what would have become of Toby if she had failed to solve the labyrinth. He answered her truthfully, seeing no point in a lie. All humans who stand defeated before the Goblin King must pay their toll, but he has never considered himself truly a cruel king. Had fair barter been offered, she would have found her brother returned safe and sound, for a single newly-turned goblin is worth little when he already rules so many. In the Underground, promises and favours are much-valued things, and the oath of a human can easily be worth more than gold. With but a single favour owed, she and her brother would have gone free, leaving the Goblin King to ponder exactly how that debt might be collected.
For a time, he begrudged the girl her victory – the debt that should have been; the future wealth and power he could have one day wielded Aboveground. Now, having come to know and love the woman she has become, it's easy to tell himself that he did, indeed, make the right decision back then. It wasn't that he actually lost to a teenage girl so pitifully, despite having exhausted all his power trying to best her; no, such was impossible. Letting her win, on the other hand, was the best thing he could have done. He once made the grave error of airing this theory to Sarah directly, and was met with a torrent of verbal abuse so loud and vehement that it left his ears ringing. Not to mention the flurry of curses and half-wishes thrown at him – things he would not dare even dream of granting. To this day, he dwells on her words, and shudders to think of how precisely a cactus might be self-inserted in any manner, let alone sideways.
Deserved victory or no, they've spent an interesting few years in and out of one another's company ever since. Though he's always been rather fond of the little scamp, the Goblin King can't help but feel some new appreciation for the one who has made it all possible – the young master Toby. Squalling infant no longer, the boy has a healthy appetite for frolic and fantasy, and makes his wishes so often, when his stubborn half-sister will not. The lad has always been a clever one – an early and quite avid reader, whose hunger for new books to swallow took him into the forbidden territory of his older sister's room.
Toby devoured the story of the labyrinth and its keeper within one scant afternoon, his first wish to said keeper coming almost immediately after. Sarah had come home to find the elegant king of her dreams and nightmares sitting cross-legged upon her bedroom floor, seated beside her then six-year-old brother, surrounded by fingerpaints, glue, and copious amounts of glitter. The look upon her face was quite a picture.
As young Toby continued his messy project (a project Jareth would later find himself berated still further for, and entirely without reason – he only told the boy the story of the great and ancient goblin war; it's not as though he asked Toby himself to partake. Personally, he thought the red glitter the lad had used to depict all the blood was rather a nice touch), the Goblin King and his tempestuous Champion had finally been given time to talk. It was a mite awkward at first. By then, they had not spoken to one another in almost two years.
The two of them had met on precisely three occasions in the past: their first being her time within his labyrinth, where he had admired the strength of the girl who had utterly destroyed him. The second had come when that girl was already a woman grown, striking in her beauty and anger, and in her demand for the Goblin King to come to her once more. She had called him before her in a fit of fury, wounded by some pathetic human lad who had tried and failed to claim her virginity, and naming the bewildered king the sole cause. She claimed him to have ruined her for any other – the stuff of fantasies, in his tight-fitting clothes and ethereal beauty. She was not best pleased when Jareth chose to agree with her. Objects were thrown.
Their third meeting came only a manner of weeks later. She had been nineteen, full of longing and self-doubt – a strong and stunning creature who had crumbled before him, her confidence finally broken. There had been another boy – one who had been less than kind upon hearing her rejection. He had left her seated upon her bed and wallowing in her tears, without a care. Jareth could not help himself: he knelt before her as she wept, and smiled as she asked him if he thought her to be pretty – as if the answer could have ever been anything less than a resounding 'yes'.
At her will, he had spent the rest of that sweet night revelling only in her, taking what she gave him, reminding her of that strength and beauty she possessed that cruel words could never steal from her. By once more yielding his power to her, bending to her every whim as he taught her the ways of passion, he had restored her own. He had loved her that night, both physically and in his own curious way, but he had not expected to see her again. When the weeks, and then months of no contact passed, he thought himself to be right. Of course, in the end Toby had proven them both wrong, and Jareth could not have been more glad. At twenty-one, as confident again as when they had first met, he was certain his Sarah was not entirely displeased to see him.
It was a long talk, in the end, and not without a certain amount of raised voices (entirely hers), a certain amount of flirtation (from both sides, though a little reluctant at first), and some long-overdue apologies (unfortunately, entirely his own). In the end, they had come to an agreement to satisfy them both. Sarah wouldn't trouble herself in trying to talk her excitable little brother into giving up his new-found jinn, and Jareth, in turn, gave his solemn oath that no harm would ever come to the boy, no matter what his wish. This last wasn't entirely necessary even then, and certainly isn't now: he's learned to love them both, in his own way, and would never wish them any real harm. The lad is the young brother he never had, or perhaps the son he's never cared to. As for Sarah … well, just to love her is enough.
In the two years that have followed, Toby's frequent wishes have provided a most pleasing opportunity for the Goblin King and his Champion to remain in contact, and sometimes more. Toby makes his requests, and Jareth grants them like the good-natured soul he is. He never once begrudges the boy, even when he insists on reappearing at the most inopportune moments and foiling his plans of seduction. Well, perhaps a little begrudging is in order. It seems an awfully long time, after all, since last he managed to work his way into Sarah's … affections. Her lovely, tight affections. Jareth shifts in his throne again, just to think of it. Yes, in his boredom, he rather thinks he'd be up for that challenge again sooner, rather than later. If only-
Oh, but the boy has perfect timing. Toby wants the Goblin King to make a boring Christmas more fun for he and his sister, and Jareth is most happy to oblige. It's a simple little wish, nothing too strenuous, Jareth thinks – but of course, that depends entirely on Sarah's mood, and attachment to her current beau. After all, 'tis the season of loving and giving, and he has reason to hope his beloved Sarah might just be receptive to a little of both. With but a flick of his wrist, the Goblin King is set to spend his first Christmas Aboveground.