Chapter Two - I Move the Stars for No One
Putting a gloved hand over his eyes, he sighed, pointedly ignoring the goblins chasing after the god forsaken chickens. It was just one more thing to annoy him today. The throne room hadn't been altered too entirely, after Jareth had to use what strength he had to rebuild it. It was the one room, that he couldn't afford to change. It was the meeting grounds for any official business that went on within or around the Kingdom. How would it be to see it so drastically changed, after a mortal had left him there? One may even go as far as to suspect that he had actually developed feelings for the girl. No, he couldn't have. He was not that weak. Certainly, his plans on giving the girl powers in the beginning, backfired horridly, but it was only because she was too naive to understand what he was offering her.
Not at all a fault on his behalf.
There was a sudden commotion in the atrium, bleeding into the Throne Room, as a barrel bellied goblin waddled as fast as he could before his King.
"M-m-my L-L-L-Lord…." The goblin sputtered, taking a deep bow, his dirty nose touching the stone floor before whispering, "The Wraith Queen is here."
The Wraith Queen. Antiana. She went by many names, The Dead Queen, The Ice Queen, The Dark Lady… and whatever name she had, it was always followed with the understanding that a visit with her would only insure a wake of cold bones and a heavy heart. She was the keeper of souls; the ones too afraid to pass on. She sacrificed and fed on those who feared her most, absorbing that emotion into her own power.
Jareth sat up in the circular chair in a start, giving the goblin messenger a grave look. Nothing good would come from a visit with her.
"Send her in." He said, solemnly. The goblin finally looked back up at Jareth, a sordid fear ringing clearly in his eyes, but he nodded, and disappeared through the door he had come from. Moments later, another figure filled his place.
She was a statuesque woman, with long flowing black hair, and dark eyes. At a distance, she was beautiful. The closer one got, however, they would find that there was a horror flowing under her alabaster skin. Her eyes were set too deep, as if they were sinking into their sockets, tinted ever so slightly, with the crimson splash of blood. Her lips curved too widely at the sides, displaying yellowing jagged and pointed teeth, the gums blackened with decay. Her fingers were too long and spindly to be anything natural, as if in a flick she could rip out a heart; and probably would.
The Goblin King stood to meet the Queen, bowing to her slightly, still keeping enough of a distance not to be engulfed in her aroma. He had smelt it once before, and there was no need for a refresher.
