A/N: A warning to those who dislike mysteries. Jareth's behaviour is never fully explained, but if you look at the title you may find a reason. Short, but I actually rather like this one. As always, R&R!
The Man and the Mask
Each night, after he finished with her – bringing them both to ecstasy and back – he would simply clutch her to his chest and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. He told her she was a goddess in human form, and that she was clearly made for him. That the gods themselves must have made them to be as puzzle pieces, for they fit so well together. He murmured to her of her beauty, her radiant soul, of the stars that should bow at her feet. He would tell her of his passion for her, and place gentle kisses along the tender shell of her ear, murmuring apologies for any harms he had caused her as his hands tenderly caressed her body.
In these times, she remembered how easy it was to love and be loved by him, curled like a docile kitten into his chest. In these times she dared to believe he loved her and would protect her for all time. In these times, she allowed love for him to blossom within her heart, intertwining with her insides as a plant grows roots and sprouts.
She would fall asleep to his soothing voice, every time.
But on awakening, he was harsh. His words stung her and his hands lashed out at her, and he told her of how she disgusted him. He had said he could be cruel; he had warned her. Yet still she was unprepared for the wrath of the Goblin King. Each and every morning, she knew this was coming. But she could never stop it from cutting her fresh, breaking her heart as completely as it had the morning before, and the morning before that.
And later – after he had claimed her body again in a passion and fury that was animalistic and brutal – as he lay beside her, stroking her tenderly, she fell in love all over again.