Jareth sat on his throne, moodily tapping his riding crop against his leg. The thing reminded him of home. It was almost like a scepter to him. He liked to hold it, to remind him that he was almost a lord, had almost inherited his father's estate. If not for one stupid emerald pendant and an old nurse with too many old wives tales…
He got up, and strode over to the window over looking the goblin city. This was one of those rare times when everything was quite. It was late at night, indeed, past midnight, and most of the goblins were asleep. Those who weren't wandered the city. Jareth liked this time best, although he did sometimes think it gave him too much time on his own, to think about things he'd rather just put from his mind.
He remembered first coming to the Goblin city. That had been years ago. How many, he wasn't sure, but he knew it was a great deal of time. He'd grown, although at what seemed to him a very slow rate. He had no idea how time was working in his world, how it was affecting his sister.
He recalled the first day he'd spent here, surrounded by creatures he's only imagined before, and only as a small child. But he wasn't going to show fear, wasn't going to panic. He had always had the quality to take control of situations, just like his father. He put his skills to use. He saw that the goblins had no king, no lords, no form of government whatsoever. He therefore set out to become their king. It took a while to convince them. But it had worked. They looked upon him as a sort of god. It was his eyes, he believed. Such strange eyes. After he'd convinced them to follow him, they began work on the castle. His castle.
Sighing, Jareth walked away from the window and dropped back into his throne. He did have too much time to think when he was alone. And he always came back to thinking about the same thing: Cassandra.
He couldn't figure out how he felt about his sister. Surely she hadn't really believed that the goblins would take him away… how did she feel now? Did she feel guilty, or did she really not care that he'd made him disappear, forever? After years and years of thinking on it, he just didn't know anymore.
Cassandra gazed out her window at the stars. They were beautiful here. Somehow the skies were always clear above her holiday castle.
She shifted off the elbow she was leaning on, and groaned as pains shot up her arm. She wasn't as young as she used to be. Indeed, all her children were grown, her youngest over thirty years. She was surprised she'd lived this long. But with her eldest and his wife running the estate and such, she could live out what she had of her life here, at the get-away palace, where she liked it best.
She looked out at the stars again, switching to lean on her other elbow. For moment, she thought the stars looked like a face. For a moment, a pair of eyes flashed before hers, one blue, one brown. She blinked, and shook her head.
She must be getting crazier than she was already. Eyes in the sky? And mismatched eyes, at that. That was ridiculous. Everyone knew that there was no such thing as people with different colored eyes. Who'd ever heard of such a thing.