The crystal in his hand shone white in the light of the crescent moon that filtered through the windows. The reflections of the crystal danced across ivory walls like silver butterflies. Within the crystal was a clear, sweet image of Sarah packing away the pictures of her mother into drawers and a small, wooden box that contained other memories.
The dark-haired girl looked up and over her shoulder, calling out to her father's voice. A flash of dreamy, hazel eyes and the curve of delicately smiling lips before she turned back to forgetting.
Jareth's fingers, clad in soft, dark leather, tightened ruthlessly around the crystal and he watched with impassive eyes as Sarah looked around, alarmed at the sounds of breaking glass around her.
The crystal shattered in the Goblin King's hand and from those great, jagged cracks light and color whispered out, staining the air and fluttering to the floor, soon blown away by the wind.
Jareth tipped his hand so that the shards of the crystal followed the color and light and watched as the pieces hit the ground with soft, sweet chiming.
He had offered her everything. Anything. And she had turned him down with those foolish little words. Words that would not have held such power if there had been even a shiver of doubt. But Sarah had truly believed that he, the great Goblin King, had no power of over her… and in this Labyrinth, belief was all that was needed.
Jareth tipped his head back and rested it against his throne, listening to the goblins rebuild the city below his windows. He knew he could have waved a hand and the walls would be replaced, the glass remade, the gate keeper set back into his proper post but he didn't have the heart for any of it.
Soft, mocking laughter filled the room and Jareth opened his odd, mismatched eyes. The left eye was as clear and as blue as summer skies and the right eye was a deep, molten gold. As he listened to the laughter, both eyes became cold and angry.
"Do not mock me, Aine, I have no temper for it today," he growled into the empty room. Before him, drifting through the air as if she was a butterfly, a lovely woman materialized.
Long, golden hair sailed around her shoulder and hips in dreamy waves and her large crimson eyes twinkled at him merrily. Draped over her slight form was golden and cream colored silk, pale, luminescent flesh showing through in taunting peaks.
"Great king," the woman said, crimson lips forming the words with smug confidence, "You are never in the mood for mockery. But I can't help it; I have never seen you fail so spectacularly."
She laughed again, vanishing and reappearing, perched on a windowsill. The wind lifted her hair and the long, flowing silk that she wore, making it dance around her like ghosts.
"Be silent, Aine," the Goblin King commanded. The woman laughed again and vanished, appearing right in front of Jareth, suspended upside down with her long, golden hair falling below her and brushing against the floor at the Goblin King's feet.
"Even you must marvel at your own failure, my king," Aine said softly, "Not only did you lose the child that was to be your heir but you also lost the girl that you thought of as an equal!"
Jareth hissed softly at the woman hanging in front of him. She smiled and danced away, out of his reach.
"Why do you take such joy from my failure, Aine?"
The golden woman laughed softly again, perched on an arch above a door. She crossed her legs, exposing more pale flesh.
"Because, my king, your failures are so rare," she cooed. Jareth, who was watching her with the cold eyes of a hunting lion settled back into his throne, slightly mollified by her praise.
"Are they?" he asked.
"So rare, my sweet king," Aine crooned, "So very, very rare. I have seen mercy from demons more often than failures from you."
Jareth's lips curled into a pleased smirk and he waved his hand in a casual circle. Between his fingers the stem of a crystal goblet appeared, filled with dark wine.
"And even in your failure you succeed, my king," Aine told him.
"Oh?"
"Would you like me to tell you the girl's future?"
Jareth inclined his head delicately and Aine leapt into the air. She twisted around into slow, serpentine shapes, weightless and boneless in the air. Her eyes flashed white and her skin began to glow. As she twisted and turned she became the only thing that was giving off light, filling the room with warm, flickering radiance.
She stilled herself suddenly, holding between her hands a great, shining mirror filled with golden light. It flashed and soft, haunting whispers filled the room.
"Lo, my king," she purred, "See the girl who denied you."
The glass showed Sarah as an old woman, her once long brown hair now grey and lifeless and kept short and ugly. Her skin had become papery, spotted and her eyes faded and lost.
"She will age, my king," Aine said, "She will forget about magic and laughter and the stories you gave her and as she forgets she will learn of sorrow and pain. Her heart will be broken many, many times and her life will become pale and meaningless. As she will become. She will age, my king, she will grow old and frail and forgetful and then, when she is nothing more than a burden on her family, she will die."
Jareth purred softly in the back of his throat, reclining in his throne like a great lion, content after a kill.
Aine continued in a lullaby-soft voice, "And a few years after her death, my king, her children will die. And her children's children will die. And then she will be forgotten for all eternity… lost and forgotten. And the boy that you wanted for your heir… he will follow this path as well. He will flare bright for a moment, as you knew he would, but then that glow will fade and he will grow old and he, too, will fade and die and be forgotten."
Aine wrapped her arms around the mirror and the glowing glass vanished, taking Sarah's old, wrinkled, ugly likeness with it. Aine drifted down and landed lightly on the cool marble floor and knelt at the Goblin King's feet.
"This is the life of mortals, my king," Aine murmured, "They all grow old, die and then are forgotten… So even in your failure to capture the girl, your success in triumphing over her is secure. After all, my king, you will live for all eternity. You will not age. You will not die. You will never, ever be forgotten."
"I won't be forgotten…" Jareth echoed.
"Never, my king," Aine whispered, "There are those on Earth who wait silently for you; those who know of your existence only through dreams but yearn so much for your embrace that they would leave all they knew behind just for a warm glance."
"Do you speak truly, Aine? Or are these just words to soothe your king?" Jareth asked, looking down into the fortune teller's crimson eyes. Shyly the girl reached out and touched the hem of Jareth's flowing cape with delicate fingertips.
"I would never speak false to you, my king," she told him, "I am ever your servant and all I can do is tell you truths."
"Then there are humans who remember me," Jareth said thoughtfully.
"By other names, my king," Aine told him, "You are the Erlking to some, Oberon to others… But you live in their memories forever; a reminder of a time when there was magic in the world."
Jareth smirked, pleased and mollified by Aine's words. It was true; he was ageless, timeless, endless… how had he forgotten that? How had he let a foolish human girl distract him?
"I tire of being only half-remembered, Aine," the Goblin King said softly, "I tire of hiding from human sight… only allowed to show myself in their dreams."
"Then perhaps it is time to remind them, my king," Aine said with breathless excitement. "There are none on earth who could stand against you. Gather the Fae and take back the kingdom that was stolen."
Jareth considered and held up a hand. Light and magic converged at his fingertips and another crystal appeared, showing the streets of earth in all of their bustling fury.
"The Summer Queen and the Winter Queen would be willing to join me," he said musingly, "They have longed to take back the world…"
"What of the Dark Fae, my king?" Aine murmured.
The smile that curled the Goblin King's lips was both chilling and exciting to Aine, who stared up at Jareth with abject adoration.
"The Dark Fae," Jareth purred, "They have waited eagerly for such a call… they will answer more willingly than any other."
"Let me send out the call, my king," Aine whispered, crimson eyes gleaming with fervor, "Let me call them together to kneel at your feet."
Jareth looked down at her and smiled indulgently as he would at an excited child. He laid a gloved hand onto of Aine's head and she closed her eyes, shivering.
"Patience, Aine," the Goblin King counseled, "Taking back earth will require delicacy and patience. I must think first."
"As you will, my king," she whispered, "I am yours to command."
"Good. Help the goblins repair the city and see what else that girl did to foul my Labyrinth," Jareth commanded, retracting his caress. Aine stood and curtsied to the king.
"My King," she murmured and then leapt into the air, sailing from the window and into the City beyond.
Jareth stared into the crystal and watched as humans hurried by, each as lost and confused as the next. Each blind to magic and wonder… There were few that could even remember how to stand against a Fae king, few who would believe any more. They were all easily commanded, easily destroyed.
He laughed softly to himself and tossed the crystal into the air where it shone and danced, as insubstantial as the dreams Jareth commanded.
