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PChapter 4:BR
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Jareth awoke in the early morning sunlight, while the sky was still a bittersweet orangey-red, and decided that he liked the sun that way. Shadowy and not so hot, and only halfway up. He wondered that he had never seen it in this position before.BR
His nurses shook him, and he gleaned from their excited chatter that the day had finally arrived for him to meet his mother in her wing of the castle. Jareth, who had never been outside his own apartments since his birthday three-hundred-and-eighty years before, felt a whir of excitement within his skull: an emotion he had been blocking out for so long.BR
He wondered whether the rest of the castle would be different from the winding steps and velvet tapestries he had known all his life. He imagined an exotic jungle of even finer tapestries, portraits, staircases going every which way, and of course loads of money and jewels dribbled all over the place. There would be mountains of rare artifacts and secret passages behind great stone fireplaces that had strange bones decorating their mantels, and every single passage would lead to more buried treasure, or a secret underground river with a new race living along its rocky banks that only he, Jareth, would discover.BR
Then there would be a passage, he decided, that led out to the world of men. He had never seen a man before, he noted. It would be an interesting experience.BR
His oldest nurse tugged him upright and attempted to begin dressing him. Jareth had never allowed her to lay so much as a warty claw upon him since about 1800. Dirty old thing, he had muttered, every time she had tried to undress him for bed after that. t get her claws on this princeling, no she wonBR
He lay still now, allowing her to peel off his nightshift halfway before he stopped her. Nobody touches me except for me, he explained quietly.BR
The nurse shrank back and nodded, shaken by his stony response.BR
Jareth had grown into a strapping young adolescent, with long legs and a lean, attractive form. He glanced into the looking glass, brown eye winking as blue eye gazed on in a dignified way. He was a creature worthy of noting, but still so odd-looking.BR
He sighed, feeling quite alone. He made his way to his wardrobe.BR
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*BR
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The goblin queen had waited for nearly an hour for her impertinent son to make his way downstairs to her chambers. She was furious by now at his tardiness, but she hid it all beneath a cool, assertive countenance, pushing herself for grace as she sat, rigid and cold, rooted in her silver chair.BR
The door at last burst open. In strode Jareth, with a swagger in his step and a lazy calmness in his expression that made the queen livid. He was clad in a black leather tunic and black tights, with short leather boots coming halfway up his calf; he moved lithely, like dust through a drafty door, yet his prescence was determined, it was spiritually assured. It was waiting for something.BR
His two different eyes seemed to be probing her face for answers, or at least the rephrasing of his questions. The queen felt nervous, as if he were deteriorating her bold spirits just by standing there.BR
She stood up. Jareth, I presume. Please sit.BR
She gesticulated towards the throne she had had prepared for him: a black, curvaceous seat of ebony with blood red cushions; he simply nodded and sat elegantly in the throne, perching one long, black leg atop a magnificent arm, and letting the other one rest on the floor. He said nothing, just twirled a crystal ball that appeared to have materialized out of nowhere between two fingers.BR
The queen was awe struck, and before she could stop herself she had asked him, How did you do that?BR
Jareth hinted at a smile and said innocently: What? Oh, you mean this?BR
He wriggled his hand; there were now two crystal balls shining and twinkling about his long leather-coated fingers as he spun his toys in circles.BR
The queen opened her mouth, but found she could not speak, not even to tell him that she found him insufferable and an impertinent misfit. It was all she could do just to close it again.BR
What infuriated her the most was that Jareth had now tired of humiliating her: instead he had conjured up two more balls and was making them float in elegant shapes above his head. Queen Trrrissima felt compelled to grab his attention back once again.BR
She called for some wine.
"Now Jareth," she said boldly, revitalized by her simple command. This was, after all, her castle, where she was still the queen. "I called you here to talk to you about a matter of state that requires your attention."
Jareth continued to stare into the air at the whirring crystals. "Oh? And what's that, Mother?"
Trärrissima was ready to chide him for not addressing her formally when she remember who he was. "It's on the future of this kingdom. As you may know, I am almost past my time of ruling, and by right the kingship shall be passed onto the eldest child, that being you."
A squat goblin brough in a decanter full of dark red liquid and two goblets. The queen accepted a glass of wine from the slave and passed it to Jareth, who dropped it as she said those words. A smashing clang could be heard all over the castle, waking up goblins who were working the night shift.
The queen smiled; at last she had one over her son.
Jareth sat there, mortified. The queen beamed in greasy ecstasy. "Please, Jareth," she said smarmily, unable to conceal her triumph. "Contain yourself."
Jareth's eyes pulsated with ferocity. Yet the rest of him remained relaxed and icy. He said nothing.
The queen's happiness died. "In any case, I suppose you were paying attention to what I said?"
"Yes, but I don't believe it."
Queen Trärrissima was taken aback by his apparent bashfulness. "What, a royal prince like yourself? It is only natural that you should come to power."
Jareth sat up very tall and very straight. "I don't want it."
The queen nearly dropped her own goblet. "What? You don't want what?"
Jareth smiled astringently. "The throne, mother. I refuse it. I don't want to be king of this land."
Trärrissima could have fainted; something she never did. She drank deeply from her goblet. "Well that is a shame, Jareth."
"I won't take it," Jareth said with pride, settling back in his chair. "I'll let somebody else be king."
The queen smiled sadistically, realizing how to burst his bubble. "But I'm afraid you can't do that, Jareth," she said quietly, like a snake's hiss. "It's the law."
"I'll change that law!"
"You can't do that unless you're the emperor."
"So I'll become king and change it."
"You can't do that!"
"What?" Jareth seemed astonished. "Why?"
The goblin queen sighed. "Well, you see, the goblin king is not the same thing as the emperor."
"Then I'll go to see him and explain!"
"Jareth, Jareth," The queen laughed. "Jareth. You really think you can charm your way out of anything? The emperor does not listen to wants or needs. She only does what needs to be done."
Jareth's mouth fell open. "The emperor is a she?"
His mother sighed. "Yes, Jareth. The word emperor is not used to denote gender in this realm. It is simply a job."
Jareth stood up. "I still won't do it, even if she is the emperor. I don't want the throne. I can't have the throne. I don't care about anything!"
"That is, Jareth," said the queen. "Often the best way to govern."
"No!" yelled Jareth, suddenly kicking over the table with the wine and extra glasses. The decanter crashed to the agate floor, where it shattered and the wine fizzed and steamed. "You cannot tell me what to do! Nor can this emperor! Nobody can! You understand?" He looked at her and the queen felt a chill picking through her insides. "No, of course you don't." he said quietly. "You wouldn't. You don't even want me here. But in that case, I'll stay. I'll stay to make your soul bleed until it kills you."
He popped a few more crystals into the air and turned to go. "I hate you, Mother," he added silkily. "You know that."
The queen felt oddly lost, and torn by the draft of the door as he swung it shut behind him.
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