Chapter Three

The moonlight-white owl landed gently onto a snow-caked branch and cooed into the silence. The wind was strong and bitter cold, as most New England winter winds tend to be. Jareth tried avoiding this particular section of the human world as much as possible, but since Sarah was living there now, he couldn't exactly avoid it. Within the safety of the dark branches he transformed into a demure human form and leapt from up high down to the grounds of the Boston Common. The city lights were weak, only highlighting parts of the park's walkways. Jareth inhaled deeply, sensing nothing but chilled misery amongst the creatures in the vicinity. Keeping low to the ground, he kept watch for any human who might have seen him jump; luckily, there was no one. After a few minutes, the Goblin King straightened up and emerged from the shadows of the small forest, treading lightly down the pathway towards the city streets. Few cars were speeding up and down the lanes at this time of night; the ones that were, obviously were being operated by inebriated passengers. Jareth crossed at a crosswalk, making his way down a long side street and into a dark alleyway, in between multiple apartment buildings and a couple of run-down Irish pubs. The place he was searching for was called the Black Violet, a somewhat-gothic and vile mess of a bar that attracted many a local Fae, Blood Nymph, Gargoyle, or any other such creature passing through the historic city needing a bit of relaxation and entertainment. Being a Goblin King, Jareth had always believed the place to be incredibly far below his royal standards, but at this late hour, it was his only option. Seeing Sarah in such dire living quarters had, indeed, ruffled his feathers.

As soon as he opened the rotted black door, he regretted it. The waft of over a hundred and fifty years' worth of scum and must hit his nostrils, forcing him to cough, and cover his face with the human scarf he had draped around his neck. Broken blacklights lit up the small room, highlighting the pale features of the female attendants lounging about the tables. A few dirty Fae and a goblin were clearly wasted and sleeping in a corner, tankards loosely gripped in their hands. One man had let his go, the spilled liquid creating a great black stain on his companion's silk shirt. The goblin was dressed in rags and snoring in a most obnoxious manner.

"May I help you, sir? Allow me to remove your coat." A pretty young Blood Nymph had approached him and placed a hand on his chest, smacking her lips excitedly.

Jareth hissed at her, laughing inwardly as she took a step back. "A drink, if you please. Bourbon."

"Certainly... Your Majesty," the girl curtsied as the man removed his outerwear, revealing his normal Fae clothing, and the royal pendant on display around his neck.

Jareth put his human coat on a small table and sat down. In typical fashion, the King rested a leg on the left armrest of his chair, sighing impatiently and forcing himself to look around the room. A couple of hookahs were on the table closest to him. Piles of yellowed newspapers were stacked by the bar. Miniature Victorian-era nude paintings lined the entrance doorway.

"Faster, won't you, wench? I haven't got all night."

"Yes sir…" the girl laughed nervously and brought him a glass and the bottle, curtsying and laughing more until she disappeared behind a purple velvet curtain in the back.

Jareth rolled his eyes and was about to take his first sip, when a head of ashen brown curls peeked out from behind the same curtain, making his heart leap. A small white hand gripped the curtain tightly, pushing it away to expose a bright blue eye. Jareth blinked. Soon there was a petite nose, and then a bow-like mouth, pinched in curiosity. Then the other eye was exposed. The King stood up suddenly, his chair falling backwards onto the floor. The goblin in the corner moaned in annoyance.

"Rose," Jareth whispered.

The girl batted her eyes a few times, lips softening in recognition of him. She brushed a stray curl behind her ear and stepped out from the curtain.

"You've barely aged at all, haven't you?" Rose mumbled, playing with the black lace glove on her left hand.

Jareth swallowed hard. "Are you a bl-"

"Yes. He almost did away with me. I've been here ever since. City's changed a lot in the past century, hasn't it, Your Majesty?"

"I… I wouldn't know. I try not to visit New England, when possible."

Rose approached him cautiously. The King stood rigid and continued to stare. She fixed his chair and motioned for him to be seated again. He acquiesced, though slowly. "Why are you working in this place?"

"I had nowhere else to go. I couldn't go back home, of course. My obituary ran in the newspapers for a day, but that was it. My family didn't come looking for me. They probably assumed I had been kidnapped…" The nymph seated herself across from him and leaned forward, showing off the most cleavage she could spare. "Taken by some evil-doing man with only one thought in his mind."

Jareth quirked an eyebrow, all traces of admiration gone from his eyes. "So you've whored yourself away for all these years? Shame on you."

Rose hissed gently. "Not half as much as my sisters, Jareth… Your Highness." She inclined her head out of deference. "You forget that I was originally pure at heart. I've only performed the services necessary in order to survive during these times." Her eyes flashed. "Nothing more."

"Yes, well, I suppose you couldn't very well help it, now, could you?" The King sipped from the bourbon bottle lazily. "My brother was never considerate of young ladies' wishes."

"Was?" The girl's eyes widened, lips trembling. "He is dead now, is he not? I thought as much. I felt something strange a few years back…"

"So did I. That was how I discovered him." Jareth pushed the bottle away and ran a gloved hand through his hair. "Bathing in his own blood."

Rose shivered and sniffed, a black tear dripping from her eyes. "The poor thing. He was ferociously handsome, I must say," she smiled faintly. "It must run in your family."

Jareth put a finger beneath her chin and forced her gaze upon him. "Is that supposed to be a compliment, my child?"

The girl's eyes darkened, and she laughed. "Would that be only a moderate boost to your ego, or should I aim for something a bit… larger?" The King's eyebrows raised as the girl placed an icy hand high up on his thigh.

"As much as I am enjoying this, I must admit, I'm not used to the idea of my pretty Rose being so terribly… corrupted," he growled, taking the hand in his and raising it to his lips. "And may I remind you that Fae and Nymphs don't mix very well?"

"I believe I could make an exception‚ even if you are the Goblin King."

He puffed out his chest, baring his teeth. "My blood compels me to take you up on that offer, dear one… Unfortunately, I am otherwise spoken for."

Rose sobered quickly, withdrawing her hand and turning away. "Of course you are. How could I have guessed any differently?" She sighed and stood up, smoothing her pinstripe skirt and adjusting her corset top. "I was only human."

"Rose," the King grabbed her arm, lowering his voice in confidence. "I… I didn't think you were still alive. Had I known… things might have been… Maybe I could have-"

"What? Saved me? From this glory I now have attached to my name, as long as I linger here?" Black streaks began to line her porcelain face. "That was a long time ago, Jareth. Indeed, in that amount of time, you have forgotten me."

"No." He brought the girl into his lap and held her tightly. "No, my girl, I have not forgotten you. Don't you ever believe that."

"Let me go, Jareth, I…"

"Hush. I still care for you. You're the only person from my past I still care about. Don't forget that. I may act like a spoiled bastard most of the time, and that is because I am one. But you must know that I never, ever forgot you. Not for one moment."

The girl's tears left stains on his white shirt. Despite a century's worth of supernatural suffering, Rose was like a human child in Jareth's arms. And, despite his moody and ruffled disposition, being the Goblin King had certainly taught Jareth a thing or two about comforting upset humans.

"I must go. The Mistress will whip me if I stay out for too long. Unless… you'd like to come back with me."

"If only I could, my child. But be strong. Maybe I will come back to visit one day…"

"Would you? Oh, please?" Rose jumped up, wiping the tears from her face. "No one ever comes to visit me anymore. That would be the greatest thing in the world!"

Jareth watched her solemnly. "Of course I will. I promise you." He rose from his seat, taking his long woolen coat and shrugging it on. "It may be sooner than you think."

The girl giggled and wrapped the scarf around his neck. "There you are, now. Please take care, and have a good night, Your Majesty." She curtsied low, winking at him, and strutted back to her place behind the curtain.

The King stared after her for a moment, smiling gently. The things Rose could do to his heart, he would never understand. He placed a few brassy coins onto the table, tucking the bourbon bottle into his coat and rushing out the door. He heard a low chime once the doorjamb hit the lock.