title: Regis
sum: And so, the Goblin King would rise once again.
warning: I'm portuguese, and this piece of scrap hasn't been BETA'd. Enter at your own risk.
disclaimer: I said this once, and I'll say it again. I'm 15.
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The stone floor was littered with rubble and crystal shards, hiding in the dust of the fallen construction. A deafening silence fell upon the kingdom.
No one dared to move, to laugh, to cry.
The girl had won, and their King had fallen.
Inside one particular room, among the rubble and the shattered glass, there was a shift, and upon closer look, one could see a white clad figure slumped on a large throne in the center of the room.
There was no sound in the throne room other than the slow, irregular breathing coming from the Goblin King.
The ruler of the fallen kingdom would appear to be in a peaceful slumber, we it not for the ivory of the throne's armrest cracking underneath his tight grip.
There was deep fatigue emanating from his relaxed stance, in the unhealthy shade and limpness of his blonde mane that clung to his ashen face. Embedded deep into his skin, hiding in the pallor of his face and the flutter in his downy cloak, the Goblin King grieved.
He had lost. After a millenia of ruling this vicious game that was his beloved Labyrinth, he had lost to a mere child.
He would have blamed her; He would shout and pace and kick with bared teeth and sharp, flaming eyes, cursing the heavens for her existence and her vicious words that snared him and led him to his downfall - but he was far too tired, too exhausted and beaten down and in love with that damned witch to blame anyone but himself.
She was far too young and too innocent to understand the levels of her cruelty and how much he had offered to her; how she could sit by his side and rule his kingdom. She would have the finest of silks and the most precious jewelry at her disposal should she wish for it; he would have treated her like the Queen she deserved to be.
A small, blunt stab at his elbow alerted him of a small, glimmering object in the armrest that his tight grip had cracked and abused, and as he brought it up for closer inspection in the dimly lit room, it was like his breath had been knocked out of him, and his heart fluttered against his chest like a bird's heartbeat.
There, resting on his gloved palm, among tiny ivory shards that clung to the leather, was a small, standard golden ring. A ring, he realized, that she had worn on her finger throughout her journey.
In the reflection of the broken crystal scattered on the floor, he could still see the beautiful, cruel thing that her eyes were.
There was a shift in the air, and after seconds of sheer power humming in the atmosphere, the King stood, and every door in the castle banged open; a rush of power overcame the kingdom, and with a flick of his wrist, the castle went back on its feet, brick by brick.
Inside of the now pristine throne room, the Goblin King, clad in his regal clothes and standing proudly in his rebuilt castle, threw the ring in the air, and it never came back down on his palm. Instead, it was by his pendant on the same string, resting against his chest.
Deft fingers summoned a crystal ball, and slowly, the king smirked, exposing sharp glimmering teeth.
He spun on his heel, and proceeded to drape himself across his rearranged throne, sucking a deep breath before clamoring out in a booming voice that echoed throughout the entire kingdom and threatened to bring the castle walls crumbling once again.
"Hogwaaart!"
