She hadn't dared to recoil from Jareth's side, her delicate hand tucked in the fold of his angled arm. Her fingers, ever so slightly, curled and clutched the material of her escort's royal sleeve—either out of fear or just sheer grit—it was not quite clear to them.
Goblin, Elf, and Fae eyes alike, observed the newcomer carefully, inwardly judging if she was worthy for the rightful title of Goblin Queen. Or even worth stepping foot beyond the Veil (apparently again).
There had been no set ceremony to wed the two yet, but she had to be introduced to Jareth's allies and the neighboring kingdoms nonetheless, before anything else played out further.
It was old protocol that wouldn't be abandoned.
And she, oh yes, she was just how their friend and Lord Jareth had described her—fair and brightly exquisite, like a rose, with her impressive youth and beauty for a mere mortal already—Once she was, or if she would stay and be changed, she would become one of the most and fairest magician in all of Underland.
Though, that emerald gaze of hers was sharp and held a certain willpower that even made the magical crowd second-guess her value.
She was indeed a rose. A rose with many thorns to spare if needed, that is.
She'd make the perfect addition for the mischievous and mysterious Goblin country.
And the Council of Elders soon after announced what had been decided. Jareth smirked with contentment.