Chapter Nineteen: There are Secrets... Dark Secrets
"I cannot view her any longer," Jareth whispered as he rose quickly from his
throne to glare at the unexpected guest.
The ancient mystic did not look up, but rather remained in the center of the room,
his eyes fixed upon the uneven ground. His navy robe covered every inch of his body, and
kept his face in eternal shadows. Jareth waited for some explanation as to why his privacy
had been disturbed, when at last the goblins had been driven out for the time being.
Jareth ran his tongue over his teeth and then began towards his advisor. Each step
echoed throughout the castle, and they came one after the other, so achingly slowly. He
drew out each approaching movement, but not once did the darkly mysterious ancient
shudder in apprehension of the angered Goblin King.
"Well...?" Jareth demanded, soon losing what little interest he had had in the
situation.
At this Flagg raised his head and peered at the King through shadows cast by spells
and heavy material. His presence was easily blocked, and just as quickly forgotten. Such
is the way of his kind, those that always existed, and would never cease. A smile graced
his face, one that would cause children to scream and mongrels to die.
"My Lord, I am at your service as always. I have come only to deliver a
message... from the Royal Court," he whispered in a strange foreboding tone.
Jareth lunged forward and nearly ripped the rolled parchment from Flagg's
extended hand. He then turned, dismissing the mystic at once, so as to leave him with this
news which would certainly prove to be of the negative sort. Never once had Jareth
received anything that could bestow an optimistic mood.
Flagg bowed deeply, though the gesture was ill-spent. The King did not so much
as acknowledge the show of respect, but remained with back to the dark, ancient soul.
Flagg rose and allowed the same grin of death to grace his gaunt features, and then made
his way from the throne room.
Jareth waited, held his temper until fully certain that there were none near at hand
whom could witness his outburst. Then, with a guttural growl, flung the scroll to the
stony ground and glared at the golden script which had graced the bottom. A signature of
the royal court, of the high elder himself no less. Once again, the Goblin King's affairs
were not his own.
"You have stepped into my life for the final time," he stated with a sneer and then
kicked the paper across the room, hoping that some stray goblin would devour the vile
message.
Still, it had made its imprint already. Warnings, rules, regulations, all that had been
carefully told to him before. He could remember all that was said, countless reminders
sent with casual threats intermingled with wishes of good will. The workings of the great
court were still a mystery to him, even after his centuries of rule in the Underground.
**Intermingling with human affairs beyond the point of necessity.... Daring to
delve into physical relationships with the dwellers of the mortal realm... This is not heard
of, and shall be restricted to the uttermost extent of the binding law.... There can be no
defiance, no falsifications, and entire cooperation is demanded.... Let us not repeat what
occurred the last time!**
Jareth heard sections from the latest message repeat in his mind. It would be best
to cast aside what hold he had finally won over the girl, and return to life as usual. A
recluse existence as ruler over heathens, and for one whose power could better or at least
match any one of the Royal court. His presence, however, was no longer required, nor
wanted. He had soiled his good name by way of mingling with humans.
"So here I rule," Jareth stated sarcastically as he made a sweeping gesture with one
gloved hand.
Outside the arched doorway a shadow hesitated, just nearly in view. Jareth paused
his ranting and waited, almost patiently for the approach of his previous guest. Flagg was
not one to be left out. After all, he had been appointed Jareth's advisor.
"What was that, my lord?" the darkly cloaked man inquired as he paused at the
doorway.
"The past," Jareth replied and then brushed aside his shaded answers with a slight
laugh.
He rose from his throne, clasping his hands together and then shaking them
towards the message which laid crumpled on the ground. Flagg's gaze momentarily
averted to what Jareth had gestured towards, and then returned to his king. The Fae lord
had moved once more, and now rested upon the window sill, gazing out at his labyrinth,
with one slender leg dangling outside.
"I rule it all, and lands beyond that the eye cannot see, and yet I too am governed.
It is quite odd at times," Jareth remarked and then turned to look back at Flagg whom
seemed exceptionally interested in the Goblin King's angered words.
Jareth casually produced yet another spherical crystal and gazed somberly into its
blackened depths. Once more it would not show him what he willed, but instead revealed
cold darkness. She was beyond his reach now, as were so many others whom had allowed
themselves to be overcome by the sly tricks of reality.
Flagg waited patiently at hand, his face blank, emotionless, but mind working over
what had been partially revealed. The dark being appeared almost attentive, and perhaps
fooled the King with his silent, submissive nature.
"Power beyond the reaches of most minds, and I am kept in restraints by...," Jareth
gestured back towards the rolled manuscript with a slight bob of his head.
Flagg did not turn this time, but instead remained silent, observant, taking mental
notes of what was said. He had seen Jareth in this sort of mood only once before, when
he had happened across the king during the dark of night. That time had been incited by a
warning of the same nature that had been delivered moments earlier.
"They wish to give me proper warning, so that I will not make the same mistake
twice. Their courts do not want any imperfections present," Jareth whispered, his jaw set
against the anger that boiled within.
Jareth twirled the dark crystal about a bit more and then allowed it to plummet to
the ground below. He watched, tracking the plummeting orb as it sunk closer to impact
and then simply disappeared. There was no smash, nor shatter, but just oblivion where
once there had been the magical sphere. The joys of magic intervene once more.
Jareth swung around, and brought his entire body back into the castle, fixing Flagg
with his intense gaze. He cocked his head to one side, as if scrutinizing the dark advisor,
and then rose to his feet.
"Why must you insist on wearing that thing?" Jareth questioned, pulled a bit at the
heavy robe that always kept Flagg carefully hidden.
"It is what I find convenient," the mystic stated in even tones.
However, to avoid further comments, Flagg readily pulled the hood from his head,
allowing it to rest against his back. Jareth acknowledged the man, whom he had seen only
a handful of times, and then hesitated. Strange sensations of anxiety crept across his skin
at the sight of Flagg's black eyes; so Jareth quickly turned to lean against his throne.
The advisor waited patiently, his features still emotionless even when subject to the
roaming eye. His raven hair laid across his shoulders, sweeping downwards near to the
middle of his back. His skin was ivory in shade, white to a greater extent than Jareth's.
The contrast of black upon such a pallor was dramatic, and made one believe that such a
presence would never be forgotten. That, however, was not so.
"There are secrets, Flagg.... dark secrets that they do not wish to be known,"
Jareth relented as he looked long at the scroll which still laid on the ground.
Flagg edged in at the mysterious words uttered by Jareth. The Goblin King rarely
allowed such hidden truths to be brought into the light. The ancient's eyes shimmered
with white lightning flashes, against the jet black unity of iris and pupil. His breath
remained held, as he waited, although the demeanor remained calm, and tranquil.
After long last the Fae lord laughed briefly and then shook his noble head. His
mismatched eyes turned to meet Flagg's own anticipating gaze, and noted an emotion
hidden behind the dark mask which the magician wore so very often. Jareth's words
ceased and he cleared his throat, fearing his own life as he saw the demon through Flagg's
jet black eyes.
"Youthful naiveté, nothing of any importance. You are welcome to remain, but I
am going to retire to my chambers before my subjects return from their most recent
outing," Jareth remarked as he rose to full imposing stature.
Flagg flipped his heavy hood back over his head, blocking those blank eyes behind
a veil of darkness. He bowed respectively and began to leave, although the king had
offered him the chance to remain in the throne room. However, he paused momentarily at
the doorway and glanced back at Jareth, whom remained attentive, hands clasped behind
his back.
"When the time comes, my lord, I will listen to what you have to say," Flagg
remarked, and a gust of icy wind burst through the nearby window to accompany his chilly
voice.
"I will remember that," Jareth stated, his voice even, emotionless as he responded.
Flagg nodded briefly and then walked slowly into the hallway. The echo of his
shoes upon the stone floor came to Jareth, perhaps even minutes after the dark robed
figure had first gone from sight. Only when the infernal sound ceased, did Jareth relent to
the thousands of thoughts which invaded his mind all at once. He quickly strode from the
room, needing the privacy offered only in his personal chambers.
While he walked, despite desperate attempts to will away the past, her face
resurfaced time and again. With each faded photograph of memory brought before his
mind, throws of pain inflicted by the opening of a never healed wound, attacked his soul.
She had captivated his entire life with her presence, and had seemed to be equally in love
with him. Had he only known...
Jareth threw open the grand oaken double doors and barged into his room, breath
coming in quickened gasps. He ignored the swinging doors, scarcely missing them as they
returned violently to their door frame, and secured with a resounding slam. His shaking
gaze slowly looked up the far wall, until falling upon her lovely pale skin, locks of chestnut
hair pulled into a network of spirals, and those deep chocolate eyes. So very similar to the
one whom he know feared he had lost, but so very different as well.
"Emelia."
"I cannot view her any longer," Jareth whispered as he rose quickly from his
throne to glare at the unexpected guest.
The ancient mystic did not look up, but rather remained in the center of the room,
his eyes fixed upon the uneven ground. His navy robe covered every inch of his body, and
kept his face in eternal shadows. Jareth waited for some explanation as to why his privacy
had been disturbed, when at last the goblins had been driven out for the time being.
Jareth ran his tongue over his teeth and then began towards his advisor. Each step
echoed throughout the castle, and they came one after the other, so achingly slowly. He
drew out each approaching movement, but not once did the darkly mysterious ancient
shudder in apprehension of the angered Goblin King.
"Well...?" Jareth demanded, soon losing what little interest he had had in the
situation.
At this Flagg raised his head and peered at the King through shadows cast by spells
and heavy material. His presence was easily blocked, and just as quickly forgotten. Such
is the way of his kind, those that always existed, and would never cease. A smile graced
his face, one that would cause children to scream and mongrels to die.
"My Lord, I am at your service as always. I have come only to deliver a
message... from the Royal Court," he whispered in a strange foreboding tone.
Jareth lunged forward and nearly ripped the rolled parchment from Flagg's
extended hand. He then turned, dismissing the mystic at once, so as to leave him with this
news which would certainly prove to be of the negative sort. Never once had Jareth
received anything that could bestow an optimistic mood.
Flagg bowed deeply, though the gesture was ill-spent. The King did not so much
as acknowledge the show of respect, but remained with back to the dark, ancient soul.
Flagg rose and allowed the same grin of death to grace his gaunt features, and then made
his way from the throne room.
Jareth waited, held his temper until fully certain that there were none near at hand
whom could witness his outburst. Then, with a guttural growl, flung the scroll to the
stony ground and glared at the golden script which had graced the bottom. A signature of
the royal court, of the high elder himself no less. Once again, the Goblin King's affairs
were not his own.
"You have stepped into my life for the final time," he stated with a sneer and then
kicked the paper across the room, hoping that some stray goblin would devour the vile
message.
Still, it had made its imprint already. Warnings, rules, regulations, all that had been
carefully told to him before. He could remember all that was said, countless reminders
sent with casual threats intermingled with wishes of good will. The workings of the great
court were still a mystery to him, even after his centuries of rule in the Underground.
**Intermingling with human affairs beyond the point of necessity.... Daring to
delve into physical relationships with the dwellers of the mortal realm... This is not heard
of, and shall be restricted to the uttermost extent of the binding law.... There can be no
defiance, no falsifications, and entire cooperation is demanded.... Let us not repeat what
occurred the last time!**
Jareth heard sections from the latest message repeat in his mind. It would be best
to cast aside what hold he had finally won over the girl, and return to life as usual. A
recluse existence as ruler over heathens, and for one whose power could better or at least
match any one of the Royal court. His presence, however, was no longer required, nor
wanted. He had soiled his good name by way of mingling with humans.
"So here I rule," Jareth stated sarcastically as he made a sweeping gesture with one
gloved hand.
Outside the arched doorway a shadow hesitated, just nearly in view. Jareth paused
his ranting and waited, almost patiently for the approach of his previous guest. Flagg was
not one to be left out. After all, he had been appointed Jareth's advisor.
"What was that, my lord?" the darkly cloaked man inquired as he paused at the
doorway.
"The past," Jareth replied and then brushed aside his shaded answers with a slight
laugh.
He rose from his throne, clasping his hands together and then shaking them
towards the message which laid crumpled on the ground. Flagg's gaze momentarily
averted to what Jareth had gestured towards, and then returned to his king. The Fae lord
had moved once more, and now rested upon the window sill, gazing out at his labyrinth,
with one slender leg dangling outside.
"I rule it all, and lands beyond that the eye cannot see, and yet I too am governed.
It is quite odd at times," Jareth remarked and then turned to look back at Flagg whom
seemed exceptionally interested in the Goblin King's angered words.
Jareth casually produced yet another spherical crystal and gazed somberly into its
blackened depths. Once more it would not show him what he willed, but instead revealed
cold darkness. She was beyond his reach now, as were so many others whom had allowed
themselves to be overcome by the sly tricks of reality.
Flagg waited patiently at hand, his face blank, emotionless, but mind working over
what had been partially revealed. The dark being appeared almost attentive, and perhaps
fooled the King with his silent, submissive nature.
"Power beyond the reaches of most minds, and I am kept in restraints by...," Jareth
gestured back towards the rolled manuscript with a slight bob of his head.
Flagg did not turn this time, but instead remained silent, observant, taking mental
notes of what was said. He had seen Jareth in this sort of mood only once before, when
he had happened across the king during the dark of night. That time had been incited by a
warning of the same nature that had been delivered moments earlier.
"They wish to give me proper warning, so that I will not make the same mistake
twice. Their courts do not want any imperfections present," Jareth whispered, his jaw set
against the anger that boiled within.
Jareth twirled the dark crystal about a bit more and then allowed it to plummet to
the ground below. He watched, tracking the plummeting orb as it sunk closer to impact
and then simply disappeared. There was no smash, nor shatter, but just oblivion where
once there had been the magical sphere. The joys of magic intervene once more.
Jareth swung around, and brought his entire body back into the castle, fixing Flagg
with his intense gaze. He cocked his head to one side, as if scrutinizing the dark advisor,
and then rose to his feet.
"Why must you insist on wearing that thing?" Jareth questioned, pulled a bit at the
heavy robe that always kept Flagg carefully hidden.
"It is what I find convenient," the mystic stated in even tones.
However, to avoid further comments, Flagg readily pulled the hood from his head,
allowing it to rest against his back. Jareth acknowledged the man, whom he had seen only
a handful of times, and then hesitated. Strange sensations of anxiety crept across his skin
at the sight of Flagg's black eyes; so Jareth quickly turned to lean against his throne.
The advisor waited patiently, his features still emotionless even when subject to the
roaming eye. His raven hair laid across his shoulders, sweeping downwards near to the
middle of his back. His skin was ivory in shade, white to a greater extent than Jareth's.
The contrast of black upon such a pallor was dramatic, and made one believe that such a
presence would never be forgotten. That, however, was not so.
"There are secrets, Flagg.... dark secrets that they do not wish to be known,"
Jareth relented as he looked long at the scroll which still laid on the ground.
Flagg edged in at the mysterious words uttered by Jareth. The Goblin King rarely
allowed such hidden truths to be brought into the light. The ancient's eyes shimmered
with white lightning flashes, against the jet black unity of iris and pupil. His breath
remained held, as he waited, although the demeanor remained calm, and tranquil.
After long last the Fae lord laughed briefly and then shook his noble head. His
mismatched eyes turned to meet Flagg's own anticipating gaze, and noted an emotion
hidden behind the dark mask which the magician wore so very often. Jareth's words
ceased and he cleared his throat, fearing his own life as he saw the demon through Flagg's
jet black eyes.
"Youthful naiveté, nothing of any importance. You are welcome to remain, but I
am going to retire to my chambers before my subjects return from their most recent
outing," Jareth remarked as he rose to full imposing stature.
Flagg flipped his heavy hood back over his head, blocking those blank eyes behind
a veil of darkness. He bowed respectively and began to leave, although the king had
offered him the chance to remain in the throne room. However, he paused momentarily at
the doorway and glanced back at Jareth, whom remained attentive, hands clasped behind
his back.
"When the time comes, my lord, I will listen to what you have to say," Flagg
remarked, and a gust of icy wind burst through the nearby window to accompany his chilly
voice.
"I will remember that," Jareth stated, his voice even, emotionless as he responded.
Flagg nodded briefly and then walked slowly into the hallway. The echo of his
shoes upon the stone floor came to Jareth, perhaps even minutes after the dark robed
figure had first gone from sight. Only when the infernal sound ceased, did Jareth relent to
the thousands of thoughts which invaded his mind all at once. He quickly strode from the
room, needing the privacy offered only in his personal chambers.
While he walked, despite desperate attempts to will away the past, her face
resurfaced time and again. With each faded photograph of memory brought before his
mind, throws of pain inflicted by the opening of a never healed wound, attacked his soul.
She had captivated his entire life with her presence, and had seemed to be equally in love
with him. Had he only known...
Jareth threw open the grand oaken double doors and barged into his room, breath
coming in quickened gasps. He ignored the swinging doors, scarcely missing them as they
returned violently to their door frame, and secured with a resounding slam. His shaking
gaze slowly looked up the far wall, until falling upon her lovely pale skin, locks of chestnut
hair pulled into a network of spirals, and those deep chocolate eyes. So very similar to the
one whom he know feared he had lost, but so very different as well.
"Emelia."
