Oki doki folks! Here's the deal: I do not own Labyrinth or any of the characters blah-blah-blah.
I do own Cynthia X3 (yummy!) and any other non-Labyrinth characters unless otherwise stated blah-blah-blahbitty-blah. So, enjoy the story!
By the way, Cynthia's name means the moon personified. Hot eh:D
/o/o/o/o/o/
In a room of black marble, a shade paced angrily. Nothing could please him. Not the elegant marble columns, not the beautiful black silks, not even his stygian throne; onyx carved so finely it appeared less stone and more stiff black lace. Wild blonde hair flew into his mismatched eyes. He was the king damnit. And not any king, The Goblin King. But the fact remained:
He was a prisoner in his own palace.
/o/o/o/o/o/
Cynthia woke to a hand sliding over her bare skin. Her eyes snapped open.
'Oh wow...' she thought to herself, 'where am I...'
She remembered going to the bar with her friends for her 19th birthday.
"Time for the drukening to begin, girls!!"
She remembered her first six drinks or so...
"Mmm... what is this? Tastes like bubble gum! Heeeee! My tongue is bluuuuuueee!"
She remembered catching the eye of the hot bartender...
"I'm done my shift now, do you wanna come back to my place?"
She remembered an intent and passionate kiss against the wall of his bedroom...
"You do taste like bubble gum..."
'... Oh dear.' Cynthia carefully extracted herself from the bartender's muscled arm and collected the pieces of her outfit from the night before. The trail of clothes laid out the story of her seduction. Her face burned with shame. 'I can't even believe I went home with some guy I don't know... Why the hell didn't Annie and Moxie stop me!' The answer came to her, obvious, clear- infuriating! 'They're always saying I need to get laid...' Cythia squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to growl audibly. Finally fully clothed, Cynthia bid a silent adieu to... Dwayne? Don? Darren? 'Oh well, if I can't remember, it can't be that important...'
As she tiptoed across the tiny apartment, the exit still painfully far away. Then, the worst happened. A digitized voice emanating form her purse began to shriek Mozart's Eine Klein Nachtmusik.
"Fuckfuckfuuuuuck!" she whispered, trying to simultaneously shut her phone up and escape from the Dwayne-Don-Darren's apartment. At that moment, the young bartender sat up in bed, looking around groggily. They made eye contact. He realized Cynthia's intentions were clear.
She bolted.
"Wait!" he called after her, "I didn't get your number!" but she was gone, out the door, down the stairs and around the corner, running down the street as fast as she can, giggling madly.
"Woohoo!" she yelled to no one in particular, jogging through the downtown towards the transit center. An old couple walking together glared at her as though happiness was illegal. She came to a stop where her bus was to arrive and sat down on an empty bench letting the early morning breeze play with her hair.
Ok, so she'd slept with a hot mysterious bartender whose name possibly began with a D. Worse things had happened. It was an act a little beyond her morals, but hey, it was sunny and clear and remarkably warm for March.
'Life goes on.' she thought to herself as the bus pulled up and paying her fare, allowed her thoughts to meander wherever they wanted.
/o/o/o/o/o/
The pacing shade, known in his own world as Jareth, found a letter placed carefully in the center of his throne. Glowering, he picked it up and impatiently broke the seal; a rose, ever so carefully imprinted in black wax. The letter, written in a deep burgundy ink in a scrawling, bold hand, read:
Dearest Jareth,
It is unfortunate you are so incompetent.
At this, Jareth nearly tore the letter to shreds; his curiosity over its contents be damned. With some effort, he reined in his temper and continued reading.
It is unfortunate, because up until now you had been doing such a spectacular job at ruling your silly little kingdom. Unfortunate for you that is. For me, it is rather the opposite. As you mysteriously let your guard down last night, I infiltrated your palace, and sealed you in your chamber. No need to congratulate me on that marvelous bit of work, I'm sure I know exactly how pleased you are by it.
Now, to the point. The owner of your palace is granted certain powers regarding our realm, such as the date of garden parties and, more importantly, the coming and going of mortals. Since your tussle with that silly little girl all those years ago, you've been loath to let any more lovely young things enter this realm.
'Why?' you might ask 'do I want a mortal woman to enter this quaint dimension of ours?'. That is for me to know, and for you to wonder ceaselessly about. What I intend to do is not your problem. Once I have achieved my goal, I will release you, and you may go upon your not-so-merry way, sulking in your grand and grotesque Goblin City as you were before I took advantage of your lapse in attention.
I thank you again for the use of your palace,
Your Loving Brother
PS. Speaking of lovely young things, you know that girl Cynthia you've had your eye on? She should be making her debut here any day now...
When Jareth was done with the letter, it turned to ash in his hands. It was true that he'd taken to watching a young woman named Cynthia. But how did his brother know this, and what did he want with her?
"Brother..." he muttered to the empty room, "what are you up to this time..."
/o/o/o/o/o/
Well, that's all for this chapter! Yes, it was short, but there will be more! Aren't you curious what Jareth's oh-so-devious brother is up to?
Please review! Constructive criticism always appreciated :)
Thankies!
Planeswalker