Shame

He could feel nothing but shame for days.

It numbed him.

The coarse whispers of his goblins haunted him for at least a week, and no mater how many times he flogged them and threatened to kill, it never seemed to seize. Their grins and glares made the throne room uninhabitable, leaving his chambers as his only escape. Even then, when their squat and warty little bodies ventured down the hall, snide remarks permeated the stone walls. The very air in his lungs, the wine he drank by the pitcher, poisoned him with memories. The wine, however, was what did the numbing. Quite well, in fact. The shame was subdued enough so that he did not stop taking air. The Goblin King may run from his defeat, but was too proud to run the long stretch into death. That was cowardice, but this - drunkenly seething on his private balcony - was only an evidence of healing.

That's what he wanted the goblins to think, anyway.

Jareth scanned his labyrinth for the thousandth time that night. No matter how fierce his cruel eyes became, how hard he squinted at the tangled mess of walls and traps, he could find no flaw in it. But there must be a flaw somewhere, a glitch in his perfect spider web. The flies weren't catching on it anymore, and what was a spider to do without any flies? Eat it's own legs off? Drink more wine? Yes, more wine…wine made him numb…

Another gulp sloshed into his full gullet. Jareth had never been drunk before due to the negative effects too much drink had on one's wits, but he rather liked the way his world was spinning. The hum in the chambers of his brain sparked and sizzled as he slammed down his goblet. Messy fingers ended up grazing it, causing the goblet and the remaining wine within to fall off the edge of the balcony and into the grass below. Jareth watched the earth drink up his savory beverage blankly before it registered that he'd just lost it. Upon realizing the turn of events, he scowled in such a way that the grass curled up and died.

"Ungrateful…how long have I protected you, you nasty thing? How long have I kept you alive?"

The Goblin King's voice was like a stone cutting cold air. Strong, irrevocable, and somehow very broken. The labyrinth did not respond to him, of course. The wind blew and played with his unkempt hair, but that was just the wind taking its natural course across the land. Nocturnal insects chirped excitedly as they did each night. The moon was bright and no more lively than it ever was. The labyrinth, though it fancied itself to be, was not alive. It could not speak, see, feel, or even mock Jareth as he screamed in rage. Those within it made it magical, and Jareth's attention greased its gears and tuned it up for service. Without that, it was just a maze.

A defeated maze. A puzzle solved too soon.

Panting from the exertion of his screams, Jareth clasped his bare hands on the rail and bowed his head. Shards of his own voice surrounded him, encasing him in this evergreen shame that would not die. Look what that girl had resorted him to. He was a drunk without respect and honor. And yet, he was The Goblin King! Feared by all, loved by many…except one…

Jareth wiped the knuckle of his wrist over his mouth to wipe away the sweat collected below his nose before collapsing onto his knees. The marble balcony was cool on his heated brow, chilling his anger as it made way for pain. The thought of that girl, her damnably bright eyes and glossy hair, her friendly demeanor and fiery passion, made him crumble. The visage of her determination constantly clouded his mind. She had solved his labyrinth with seconds to spare, and was offered a plate of dreams in exchange for one. Screaming. Baby. Was it really so much to ask? When this all began, he wanted the pretty little thing to accept what she'd done and leave him to the child, but when she refused, she became more than some pretty little thing. She became an interesting creature. Before long, she was admirable, onto enviable, onto being capable of his hatred. By the time they stood before one another, both emotionally raw and weak from their battle, she was invaluable. A better prize than his lazy labyrinth. Jareth wanted to have her, protect her, love her if she would have given in…he was sure he would have done anything for that little minx.

"That little minx," Jareth cursed the girl's image and tried to shake it away, but it consumed him. His heart tried to run to her, but was incarcerated in his chest. What could he do if she did not want him? He had no power over her, but it wasn't fair. She was doing so much to him. Did she even know what she had done to the famed Goblin King, powerful ruler and conqueror of the fay? Tyrant of all that is magical and deceiver of innocence? He did not know anyone could be as cruel as he, or that a beautiful girl could be even crueler. Sarah had his heart in one fist and dignity in the other. In this confused, intoxicated state, he'd be damned if he didn't feel her nimble fingers crush them slowly. Amusedly. She needed to be shown her place. Everyone adored her; he would smother them and show her pain. The girl didn't know sorrow yet, for the young know so little. He would let her taste it and then see if she denied him as he let her drink from his cup of despair. Even as he hatched his schemes, Jareth knew he would never go through with it.

The shame made him far too numb.

A/N: Possible continuation?

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