The immense throne room was deathly quiet. At first glance one might assume that the room was empty, as the wall sconces and candelabras had been extinguished many hours ago. The only source of illumination was the silvery moonlight that streamed in through the solitary window. The revelry of scores of inebriated goblins had long since ceased and there was not a slobbering laugh or malicious snicker to be heard. The room however, was not empty.
If one waited long enough for their eyes to adjust to the darkness, they might make out a lone figure seated at the far end of the deserted room perched on a solitary throne, with its crescent shaped back fashioned from wood and adorned with rich fabric. In truth, it was a very lucky thing that not another soul was present in that room, for the lone figure was the Goblin King, and at the moment he was brooding over his situation.
Jareth, King of the Goblins slumped lazily in his seat. He rested his troubled chin on his fist as he restlessly tapped the end of a riding crop against his booted foot. His pallid face wore a tormented expression and his mismatched eyes seemed to stare through the dark void that was his throne room.
It happened six years ago. It was ancient history, yet he still avoided retiring to his chambers until he was completely exhausted, so that he wouldn't be bothered with dreams of what could have been.
The cause of his turmoil, as ridiculous as it would seem, was a mortal human girl that had been little more than a child the night she turned his world upside down.
In order to understand his predicament, one would have to know a few things about this melancholy sovereign. For one, he alone had absolute rule over his kingdom, which over the years had caused him to become rather spoilt and very used to getting his own way. Secondly, as keeper of the labyrinth and wielder of a very formidable magic, he considered himself invincible when it came to contests of will and intellect, so one could imagine that he would be a very sore loser, especially when it was a young mortal that had bested him at a game of his own design.
Jareth had had plenty of time to stew in his defeat, and now he had come to several conclusions as to how he had been beaten. His first mistake was that he had underestimated Sarah Williams. Where countless other mortals would have happily accepted their dreams for the small price of losing an annoying sibling, Sarah had been adamant about getting her baby brother back, even if it meant sacrificing her own dreams to do so.
The second, and perhaps more serious mistake on his part, was that he allowed the girl to get to him. It wasn't completely surprising, considering that the girl was quite lovely, even in her extreme youth. Then there was her tenacity and refusal to be swayed, which only made her all the more appealing.
What disturbed Jareth above everything else, was that he completely blew it during their final confrontation. He was certain he would have won if it hadn't been for one thing; he didn't want to let the girl go, and that had been his undoing. It was only at the end, after it was too late, that he realized that he had done the unthinkable, and had actually become infatuated with the mortal. Her indifference and rejection was a fatal blow to his pride, had eaten away at him for the past six years.
As she started to recite the magic words, he had tried to tell her that it didn't have to end that way, but he hadn't given his suit enough thought, and of course, after his trickery with the peach that made her forget everything (almost), she naturally assumed that everything he said was simply another attempt to stall her. Thus, she said the words, despite his pleas for her to stop. It never even occurred to her that the offer might be legitimate. Apparently she didn't care enough to question his motives. He should have sent the babe back sooner, maybe then she would have listened, maybe then she would have understood.
She cruelly finished the incantation, thus banishing him from her. Not only had she wounded his pride by besting him, but she had simultaneously cast him into a state of misery. His loneliness, which until then had gone unrecognized in a state of ignorant bliss, was now consuming him. There was only one solution to the debacle he now found himself in, and the plan had already started to form within the storm of his turbulent thoughts.
He would get her back.
He would have his revenge, and in the end she would belong to him. He would lure her back to the underground, since he could not just barge back into her world without cause. And when he did, she would get what was coming to her.
You reap what you sow.
She would learn what it felt like to be rejected and humiliated, and only when she begged for mercy, having tasted the bitterness of ultimate defeat, would he be able to bring himself to forgive her.
The bitter monarch produced a crystal, balancing it on his gloved fingertips. What he saw made his mouth twist into a sinister grin. It looked like his scheme was about to be set into motion even sooner than he thought.