He sat horizontally across his throne with his head tilted back and his eyes fixated on the ceiling. The room was filled, as it often was, was a mass of his subject; with goblins. They were loud and rowdy as usual, but he had long since mastered the art of tuning them out. The sounds of their laughter as they told jokes, their pitchy voices while they screeched out songs, the seemingly never ending arguments over the most mundane topics; it all bored him beyond all reason. Actually, bored was a drastic understatement, it was more like being numbed. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease his mind but the attempt proved to be in vain. How was a king to concentrate with all this ruckus?

"Out," He ordered, though his volume barely loud enough to be heard. "Out!" He shouted now, standing to his feet swiftly as his gestured towards the door. The room fell silent and the goblins in his presence all stopped and simply stared at him, dumbfounded. "I said out!" He shouted once more. Now, fearful at his rage, they all obeyed his command and rushed through the large set of double doors. The sounds of their stampeding feet echoed against the stone floors but slowly faded as they disappeared down the hall, further and further from their king with each hastened step.

The silence settled over the room and he felt a sense of relief. He lowered himself back onto his throne, leaning back and letting his legs extended outward. His eyes shut and he took a deep breath or two as he tried to enjoy the calm of the room. The anxiety of being surrounded by loud and annoying goblins left him, but only to have a deeply rooted sense of loneliness resurface in its place. He had spent so long trying to combat the frustration he felt from being alone, without true companionship.

Surrounding himself with the goblins did nothing to assist his internal struggle. But who else in his kingdom was there to attempt to fill his void? Only goblins. There was no one else like him; truthfully he didn't even know what he was. He wasn't a goblin that was for sure, but despite resembling a human he knew he wasn't one of those either. He never aged like a human and he possessed unnatural powers unlike humans. Perhaps being a fairy would explain his knack for magic but obviously he was much taller than a fairy, not to mention had no wings. The truth of his being remained a great mystery to him, much the same as how he came to this place. These questions that haunted him, who he was (more importantly what was he), made it seem impossible to find someone who could understand him and ease his loneliness.

He sulked in his throne as these thoughts tormented his mind. He grew tired of the disappointment. Finally he rose, "Guards," He shouted loud enough that the goblins who guarded the throne room would here. The guards, rather tall and armored goblins with dog like faces, quickly entered through the double doors and bowed to their king. "Prepare my carriage," He ordered, "I'm going to The Rift."

The Rift was a place beyond the borders of his kingdom, beyond the borders of any kingdom in the realm actually. It existed in its own space, unclaimed by any as part of their land. It was a vast, barren region. A wasteland of dry, cracked soil, and home to blackened, decaying trees. The sky was clouded and thunder rolled in the sky but no rain ever fell. In the center stood a small manor, made from blackstone and crumbling from neglect. This was the kings destination.

It was mid day when the king's carriage departed from the Goblin City, lead by a team of six horses and coached by a goblin no taller than a human toddler and scrawnier than starved cat. The king kept the curtain of the window pulled back so he could watch as his carriage rode through the secret tunnels under the labyrinth that let out beyond the exterior walls, the outskirts of his country flying by him as the horses raced to the very edge of the countryside. The colors of the world beyond the carriage seemed to blur together, until finally there were no colors at all; after hours of traveling, well into the night, they had reached The Rift.

Confident the journey would soon reach its peak, the king shut the curtain. As assumed, the carriage came to a slowing stop not much longer after that. "We have arrived, your Highness." The coachmen shouted. The king promptly exited the carriage, not having the patience to wait for the door to be opened for him. The manor, a simple two story building with a seemingly out of place tower, stood before his sight. Without another moment of hesitation, the king continued on towards the front door of the manor; a large wooden door, with rounded top corners, and a huge decorative lion's head door knocker.

Before the king could even lift his arm to knock, the door slowly creaked opened. There was blackness inside; making it nearly impossible to see beyond the door, yet still the king proceeded in. The little light shined through the doorway offered no assistance to his sight the further he went in, stopping only when the door slammed behind him. "So you finally made it," A voice called out, although he could not see who spoke or even tell from which direction the voice came from. "We've been expecting you, Jareth."