Here's another chapter for your enjoyment!

Frustration billowed around me as I swept into the throne room. Goblins scattered in its wake; its dark folds whispered poisonously against the stone floor, and when my feet ceased their furious pace back and forth across the dais, it pooled ominously. Somehow, this chit of a girl has managed to overcome every single one of my obstacles. One by one they've crumbled: she shouldhave wandered lost in the Endless Corridor; she should have stayed trapped in the Oubliette—forgotten and alone until I could reclaim her after her time had run out; she should have been cut to bits by the Cleaners or ripped apart by the Fire Daemons; she should have pitched head first into the bog and lived out her days with that dratted Higshat as the Fetid Queen; she shouldhave stayed trapped by her dreams… The last thought sparked, kindled a flame, and raged unchecked. My mind flared red, orange, yellow and blazing white before it turned black and all thinking ceased.

I heard a young child whimpering and felt a cautious finger. I opened my eyes—sunk deep in ash—to see blue ones rimmed with tears. The wee Jareth had one fist stuck in his mouth, and his ragged breathing made a wet sucking sound around his pudgy fingers. I stirred myself from the ashes; a gloved hand reached instinctively to wipe away his tears. His eyes rounded; his fist dropped and the squelching breathing stopped. His lower lip quivered dangerously.

"Come, come, Jareth," I clucked softly. "I'm not dead, just…well…disintegrated for a while. No need to cry." I placed one hand on the ground and pushed myself onto my knees and then to my feet. Clouds of ash swirled and choked in inky tendrils. The boy coughed twice and wailed; my chest squeezed painfully. It must be the smoke in my lungs. However, some instinct in me reached out through my limbs to grasp the boy to my chest, protecting his frail lungs with my bare skin as I moved away from my all-to-recent self-immolation. His wail was building to a full-fledged bawl, and I could feel him gasping for air, choked both by his own tears and my ashen remains.

"Hush, little one, I'm here." I swayed my hips rhythmically and rubbed his back—it seemed the right thing to do—and he calmed. His small body still shuddered with need, and I could feel his tears on my skin. My chest squeezed painfully underneath the wetness; I hugged him tighter, holding his frail little body close to ease the pain. "I'm sorry I scared you. I was angry and I…well, I blew up. Literally." I smirked to myself at that. Too bad infants don't understand humor. "I couldn't help it, but I'm so sorry. Don't be frightened, Jareth, I'm here."

With more shushing and patting, he quieted and soon fell asleep. Every minute or so, his body would hiccough—the aftermath of his tearful despair—and my chest would twinge. I knew I needed to find clothing and check on the girl's progress, but I didn't want to put him down for fear that he would awake and, finding me absent, believe me gone for good.

Eventually, I magicked clothing around myself; it oozed out of my pores in a graceful whisper that barely stirred the baby. His angel lips puckered softly around his thumb; I traced a lazy outline of a blonde curl where it dropped against his forehead and caught myself wondering if I was capable of fathering children. Theoretically, it must be possible; I am equipped like every male. I highly doubt that my body would have useless parts—magic has no sense of humor. That led to other questions: what kind of female could bear my children? Could a faerie? A fey child? A human?

What kind of woman would I want to bear my offspring? She could not be a coward or stupid. I would not allow any child of mine to be less than extraordinary, regardless of being born of human (or faerie) parentage. No doubt he would take after me—a powerful mage, a wild untamable force of nature with no will but his own. But what if he were born human—frail, mortal, and filled with feelings? Then I would turn him into a goblin and produce another. For some inexplicable reason, my stomach plummeted at that thought. I looked down again at the human child in my arms—his eyes and face so like mine yet not mine—would I have the heart to turn him into a goblin? Could I transfigure my namesake into something unrecognizable? Watch his flesh bubble and thicken, his eyes darken to nothing but black, his hair turn black and fall out, his nails sharpen to claws, and his voice turn shrewish with mischief?

No.

How much less my own flesh? Thought of my thought, bone of my bone, spirit of my spirit? No. Much better to not risk it and never produce a child. What need have I of heirs anyway? I'm immortal and omnipotent. Or nearly so. I need no other.

And yet…

I breathed deeply of his flesh, drank in every curve and roll of his body; I listened to his hair and smelled his tightly closed eyes. He was everything perfect and beautiful about the strange creature called Man. Now, more than anything else in eternity, I wanted him. Sarah must fail and he would be mine forever. She must not win; my Labyrinth must not fail. If it did—if she did…

So help me I will destroy you, Sarah Williams.

An eerie echo of my own words drifted through the hallways. If only she could hear it, I would not have to resort to what I had in mind: "Turn back, Sarah! Forget about the baby….the baby…the baby…."

Yes, the baby. He was would drown in her own thwarted ambition, and he would rule by my side forever.

I received an anonymous review from a user and since I am unable to directly respond to him/her before I post the next chapter I want to clarify something: in this story, Jareth was created by magic to protect it and care for it (see chapter 1); he is the "incarnation" of magic, gives it form and the ability to interact with beings as a being itself. The taking of unwanted children from the human world is a secondary development (one that Jareth thoroughly enjoys) due to his interactions with humanity in its early days. He was "born" as an avatar of magic, but it should be clear that he is much more. Part of this story is an exploration of what it would mean for a creature created to lack empathy and human emotions (because he was "pure magical energy) to slowly explore them because he is unknowingly and even against his own desires, influenced by the very creatures he believes himself to be superior to. Just wait for it, the self-discovery will come—as it usually does in life—with time and crisis. Also, there is a reason I haven't mentioned the book Sarah reads at the beginning of the film, keep reading and you'll find out why I haven't talked about it yet!