Bindings: a vignette
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With the passage of time - that inevitable continuation even he could not claim to be wholly master of - with the changing of times, he had nearly forgotten the intoxication of belief. It was the way of things, as time did go on by, to let one faith recede in favor of another, more appealing one, and if he had been displeased with this shift of faith from gods to men, no matter: trapped as he was by his own divinity and, by that right of divinity, servitude to the profane unfaithful, only his goblin people would know.
They suffered his wrath with natural fear, and he in turn suffered their idiocies with his own sour temper; they needed him that the Labyrinth would not devour them in its hunger, and he them for some form of companionship, no matter how lack-witted.
And still they existed, those precious few who still knew the vague legends of the gods (if not the names or the titles). Divinities demoted to kingships by the race of men they were forever bound to, deities of the Underground reduced from masters who served to merely those who served, trapped by ancient and foolish vows.
All for the want of one who would believe.
Oh, and he had known she did not believe, not truly; she knew him as an obscure fairytale's harsh and villainous king, which was not too far - but far enough - from truth. He was no fool to think she thought him anything more than two meaningless, laughably condensed words. She had the faith, though, buried somewhere so deep within her forgetful heart that she did not know it to be there; and it shone, still, in her eyes.
Any faith was faith enough, and he was bound yet by the old debts to the first faithful, bound damnably by a strange and unfathomable darkness new within.
When she called, with faith but not true belief, he could only come.
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Disclaimer: Jareth, Sarah, and the Labyrinth are the property of Henson, Lee, Froud, etc.
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