DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Labyrinth, David Bowie, Jennifer Connely or Brian Froud's son. I make no money from this, it is purely a fanwork for shits and giggles.
Chapter 1 ~ The new kingdom
It was only luck that she had picked THAT dream, that crystal. The Goblin King had sent three, after offering once in person, just as had been dictated. Of the dreams floated to her in his labyrinth, one had been a memory of her childhood, it would have been as if she had awaken in her mother's lap at age seven and the past eight and a half years had been a bad dream. The other had been a fulfillment of a wish of hers, she'd have "awoken" to a house that was obviously hers and find that she had her version of the perfect life, this he had offered in trade for her brother upon first setting eyes on the green eyed girl and again floated on the wind to her prone form. The third, which happened to be the one that wretched girl had picked, was a prophecy.
Prophecies in the underground are quite a bit different from the legends. Rather than just nonsencical words such as spewed from the wiseman roaming Jareth's labyrinth, they are a rare and revered race of people that live unbound by laws within the underground. They are said to be birthed by the very fabric of time itself and they only live long enough to be fulfilled and then they die. Prophecies are shapeshifters and after announcing the fate of their intended they manifest themselves in ways that mimic the magic of the fae they concern, for instance one of Jareth's crystals, and cannot be ignored nor subdued. This particular prophecy had been following the Goblin King around since he had been coronated one hundred and seventy five years ago. The sum of whose numbers equaled thirteen, a fact not lost on Jareth.
He had been kneeling in front of the council of elders. His father Oberon seated proudly in front of his son. It was obvious the two were related, though they didn't much look alike. Oberon's face was rounded and open, whereas Jareth favored his mother's more aristocratic features, but Oberon was definitely the source of the Goblin King's mischevious nature and flyaway hair. He had to suppress a smirk as his father's voice, warm with knowledge and resonating with the wisdom of centuries, boomed over the congregated nobles.
"Greetings my bretheren, and blessed be your families and homes for making the arduous journey to the court today. As may be evident our gathering today signifies the crowning of a new ruler among our people. My son, Jareth, has elected to create a new sector of our relm on the edge of the Valkiint plains near the veil separating the worlds." Jareth pursed his lips at this, as it was only last week that his father had declared this fate for his youngest son over dinner. The man had a sadistic streak a mile wide.
"Many of you are aware of my son's extrodinary abilities where those of Goblin descent are concerned." A murmer went up through the crowd, the Goblins were the scourge of the Underground. Wreaking havoc, stealing babies from the world of the humans and generally making messes. Jareth from a young age had found the little creatures quite entertaining, and as he had grown older had developed a strange rapport with the mischevious little creatures. He was often summoned to all corners of the Underground to deal with their wrongdoings.
"Over the past season, Jareth has been in contact with the leaders of the four main Goblin hordes, discussing the notion of giving the Goblins their own relm, their own city, in which they can reside, wreak havoc, and live comfortably outside of our jails and alleyways. The leaders have conceded that this is a favorable idea and have agreed to elect Jareth as their king and monarch. So I ask of you, the court, what, if anything, concerns you about my proposed appointment?"
Jareth remained kneeled through this portion as well, magically amplifying his voice to answer the queries of his helders about everything from immigration laws ("All races who are brave enough to live there are welcome to citizenship") to the seasonal ball hosting rotation. ("I was not aware any would want to spend the solstice in the kingdom of the GOBLINS. Though a heavily fortified ballroom will be created if you wish, and festivities can be held without the customary hour of revelry with the creatures I rule over in case there are some too faint of heart to withstand it.") Things were going well, Jareth found the customary questions to be quite easily answered, though he wished they would hurry up so he could cease kneeling, for his back and knees were killing him. There was a pause and Jareth felt Oberon shift as if it might be over, when he recognized the solemn and quiet voice of T'chean, king of the the nymphian woods, asking what would turn out to be a very fateful question.
"And what, pray tell is to be done about the Goblin's baby-napping? Surely living that close to the veil they're sure to go wild over it, and that kind of crossover with the above will likely cause issues eventually." Jareth grinned, he had anticipated this from the clever and sombre king. The nymphs having similar mischevious streaks as the Goblin's he would be well aware that a simple law would not be enough to quash one of their favorite activities.
"Quite simply, I have convinced Bolverk, Whimble, Creach and Tond that there is far more mischief to be had in secrecy, stealth and games than in random baby snatching. That is to say, I have entered into a magically binding contract with the four of them stating that they cannot steal from above unless the words 'I wish the goblins would come and take, insert item here, away right now.' are spoken. At which time, after the goblins disappear, I will appear and offer the hapless mortal a trip through a great labyrinth to rescue what was stolen. After a predetermined period of time I will declare their loss and transport them and their wished away back through the veil, modifying their thoughts to believe that it had all been a dream." Just as T'chean nodded in satisfaction a high pitched whistling filled the air, louder than any amplified voice that coculd be heard. Looking around for the source of the noise it was Oberon's strong voice hushed in reverence that rang out.
"A prophecy is among us." Jareth instinctively followed his father's gaze upward, still not rising though no longer aware of his pain. From the celing floated a small creature no bigger than his hand. It was bright silver in color, and looked vaguely like a small cat, though its ears were a little too long and its tail tufted like a lions.
"Silver, a good omen." Jareth commented, eyeing its slow descent.
"A very good omen." Oberon nodded. Prophecies appear in a spectrum of colors. An orange prophecy was considered neutral. The lighter the yellow it appeared as, the better the omen, with silver being possibly the best color to get. While the more red a prophecy appeared the worse the omen was. It was said that the fae who separated the mortal world from the underground had recieved a prophecy so dark a red it was almost black before he was trapped inside the veil he had created to separate the two.
Jareth watched in wonder as the tiny figure dropped onto his instinctualloy outstretched hand. The prophecy blinked at him, then smiled and declared in a clear voice as loud as its whistling had been.
"Hello Jareth, future king of the Goblins and son of Oberon, high king of the underground. I've been waiting for you." He found himself grinning in spite of his shock at the diminuitive prophecy.
"Hello to you, though I apologise, I don't seem to recall your name and title." The prophecy smiled mischeviously, causing a a tremble of wariness to shiver up his spine.
"You may call me Kissa, And on the day your rule reaches the sum of thirteen a young woman will wish away. In thirteen hours she will traverse your labyrinth. Though you will try to take time from her, she will find it. She will pick of four dreams offered, once in earnest and thrice to confuse, again thirteen. And in conquering your labyrinth so shall she conquer you. A bond unseen for ages will be rediscovered and the prosperity of mortals shall be restored to the underground. If you are smart enough to listen when you're told to that is." This last didn't appear to be directed to Jareth, but to the court as a whole. The prophecy then giggled and appeared to melt into his hand leaving a clear spherical crystal in his palm. An exact imitation of the shape his magic favored.
A hush had fallen over the hall, each noble trying his best to analyze the message. Jareth was trembling softly, shaken by the proclamation. He would be conquered? What did that mean. He had just about worked himself into a frenzy when he heard his father clear his throat.
"Well, does anyone else have problems with this appointment that need addressing?" He gazed over the court, not expecting any more questions. "All right then, bretheren. I'll ask you to lend me your power." Jareth watched as tokens of magic fromn all of the court sped towards his father, he recognized the green mist of the centaur king, the vibrant fuschia spears of the cupid's queen and he smiled as they transformed upon reaching his father's aura, melting into the golden liquid state that his magic favored. He then closed his eyes as his father resumed speech. "By the power vested in me as the high king of the underground, and with the support of the entire court behind me, I grant you, Jareth, ownership and monarchy of the Goblin Kingdom." Jareth inhaled sharply as the blanket of power enveloped him. And with every fibre of his being humming he gave direction to the power, creating a giant version of his crystals. He imagined his city, his castle and most of all the sprawling enigmatic labyrinth that would separate his kingdom from the veil. When he had mentally put the finest touches upon his creation he let out a low hum and the crystal broke into a million smaller ones that flew out the window to the parcel of land he would own to begin building.
When he stood up, an unfamiliar weight had settled about his neck and he looked down to see the newest symbol of his office. A crescent shaped pendant with a silver center, the likeness of a goblin carved into the shiny stone. He glanced at his father's approving grin, then turned to face the court. He grinned up at the many faces, all still looking skeptical and curious from the prophecy, and took a bow. A slow applause started from the back of the room and in a few moments Jareth ascended the steps to take his new seat among them, ready to be through with the rest of court and on his way to his new castle.