Summary: AU wherein a child has one mission and one mission only, to humble the Goblin King in the most fitting way possible.
Impossible. The word echoes in his mind, slamming in an endless cacophony against the confines of Jareth's skull.
Few runners ever made it past the first corridor, always running ever onward, looking for corners that would never come. Fewer still made it through the initial twisting paths, turning themselves around with rarely a need for goblin intervention. A few bright, bold souls attempted to traverse the forest of bone and fiery woods. And only Sarah herself ever arrived at the castle in one piece.
Yet he watched this youth arrive at the gate unannounced. The entrance appeared to them as if by its own choice, and they had knocked on the ancient doors before pushing them wide, as if wanting to let him know they were coming.
Expertly, they ran down the first long trail and paused by a particularly large crack in the wall. He saw them bend down, dark hair covering their face. They set off again with a self-assured smile. They slipped through the hole in the outer wall and took off on a trail that would eventually lead to the goblin city. If left unchecked, at least.
Perturbed, the Goblin King rearranged their path, cutting off their direct route and sending them into the smaller mazes. Surely the bizarre instincts guiding this annoyance would fail there.
But no. Instead, they reached into the pocket of their jeans, pulled out a piece of chalk, and scribbled an arrow on one of the cobblestones. Only three steps and they paused, turning to look down the next two corridors. As they considered, a goblin shifted the marked stone. Lifting it and turning so that the arrow pointed in the opposite direction. Or would have, if quick hands hadn't snatched the goblin from its hole.
The King was too late to hear what they said, but they tucked the goblin beneath their arm and demanded an answer at each twist and turn. The traiterous vermin pointed a trembling claw obediently, until they reached a point even it did not know. Leaving it to scurry away, the intruder continued on alone.
All this they had done in a matter of minutes. And now the word impossible resounds again as they solve every puzzle they reach, conquer every trial he conjures. False alarms shout and scream, and they mildly thank them for the performance. Fierys scurry away from them in fear when they tear off their heads and send them flying. And the goblins, the goblins! Those faithless wretches bow to their every whim.
When they step into the castle, he is there upon the throne. A foreboding figure draped in black, his eyes sharp with displeasure.
Most quell at the sight of the Goblin King, knowing he can distort dreams and reorder time itself. But their piercing blue eyes meet his glare for glare.
"I don't believe anyone invited you in."
"I did knock. No one answered. Seems neither of us have the best manners."
The Goblin King's lips tighten into a thin line. "You have gone to an awful lot of trouble to get here. Why?"
They smile. An uneven tilt of lips he has seen before. "There's an old story I heard as a child. About a King who lived in a labyrinth. He made it, apparently, and designed it to be unsolvable. But, there was a rumor that if anyone could reach the center, the King would have to grant them a wish. As a reward. I thought it was worth a shot."
The Goblin King stands and crosses the room, heels clicking against stone. Only when he reaches them does he start to laugh.
Shaking his head in a mockery of sympathy, he says, "You really shouldn't believe everything you hear in stories."
He watches them expectantly. Waiting for their cocksure posture to crumble, their impertinent gaze to fall.
But no, their smile only grows.
"I don't need a wish from you to get what I want. But like I said. It was worth a shot."
"Oh? And what is it that you want to badly?" The Goblin King snaps.
"For you to go to the Bog of Eternal Stench."
Jareth surely has a witty reply, but it is lost when the floor beneath his feet gives way. And then he falls, falls, through a swirl of glittering dust and lands in the putrid waters of the Bog.
And there on the banks is the trespasser. Their blue eyes laughing as they look down at his struggle. "You know, I really should tell you who told me that story."
They walk to the very edge of the water, "But mom told me you figuring that out should be a piece of cake."