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Sabaism

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The Goblin King kicked the door open, stilling the action in the throne room, particularly with the girl loosely in his arms, hundreds of red beady eyes fell on the pair of them. Bewilderment. A human. A human girl. In the castle.

“Well, what are you looking at- bring me wine you gawping fools!” He spat at them, sweat on his forehead.

The room fell into chaos again. He stood awaiting in the centre of it all, staring straight ahead expectantly but then eyes falling on you, your gentleness for just a moment before he was interrupted again.

“Sire” a goblin by his knee coughed, stretching out his shaky arms to hold out a silver tray to the Goblin King, presenting the green bottle.

From below, the little goblin craned its neck to see the girl in their King’s arms, getting a good look at your still face, recognising you to be the girl running the Labyrinth.

Jareth scowled down at the creature, holding the you further from the goblin’s gaze. He wasn’t in the mood for questions now.

“Ladygirl wan a glasss?” the goblin asked staring up at Jareth dumb-founded, scratching its head in confusion at their majesty’s bizarre behaviour.

“The wine is for me, you idiotic cur” he snatched the bottle off the tray by the neck, holding it clumsily between his fingers.

Jareth raised his voice to the rest of the throne room “I want this room cleared now, or it’s the Bog for the lot of you!”

He waited for less than a few mere seconds before the giggling and whooping had trickled out of the throne room, doors swinging shut, leaving the pair of you.

 The Goblin King placed your limp form on his throne steadily, in case his legs suddenly gave out, before slouching down beside it, to sit on the floor. Thank gods it had been cleaned.

Oh the irony. So it seemed the girl had practically knocked the crown from his head after all.

Forced to give up his own throne, tsk, “don’t you dare tell anyone about this” he thought with a smirk, sipping more, like you could magically hear his thoughts. He still had some reputation to uphold after all.

On the way out of the portal from the Oubliette, he found himself completely drained, the magic sucked right out of him suddenly.  He’d stumbled and nearly dropped you, he felt winded like he’d taken a blow to the stomach. Jareth had never felt anything like that before, he surmised it was from the overwhelming unbalance of the mortal presence instinctively fighting against his magical being, it happened in the Underground when the mortal runners came to visit. He ignored the possibility it could have been anything more. 

When he’d stepped out, the damned portal had taken him right to the beginning of the Labyrinth again by the outskirts instead of the castle.

Jareth had no choice but to grit his teeth through his already ragged breath and carry you through the bloody place, at least he knew what he was doing, the Labyrinth was his and his only to control, you were in safe hands.

When his feet had crossed over the yellow stones to the grey and reddish cobble stone of the Goblin City, Jareth knew what was to come.

He held his head high, ignoring the inevitable the gapes, the whispers, bony fingers pointed in his direction, and walked with all the grace and decorum he could muster, glossing over his weakened state. 

Very soon, it was as if the entire city had turned out, completely rammed in the little streets but parted down the middle like the red sea in silence to let their king through, their eyes falling between them and you. It was almost religious, sacred in a way.

One part of him felt burning pride. They all wanted to see you. Jareth wanted to bring your ear to his mouth and whisper “see all the trouble you’re causing, you minx?”.

The stream of citizens never thinned even up to the point of the castle drawbridge. His entire kingdom had borne witness to the spectacle.

By the time the Goblin King made it to the castle, he could barely stand. His arms and legs were shaking from upholding you for so long, but he would be dammed if he let you go, the sweat dripping off him, he couldn’t manage the climb of the stone stairs to a more private room, he’d had to settle for the closest to him, the throne room.

What a scene it had been indeed.

The wine would cure him of this weakness fast.

Jareth screwed off the top with his teeth before sipping from the bottle like a common savage rather than a king. Ah, much better. He let the feeling of recharge wash over him and leaned his head back against the throne’s arm with an exhale.

Then he titled his head lazily to look at Sloane above him, his lips automatically twitched with an unbidden smile, at just the mere sight of you. You were curved in a fetal position to match the curve of the throne. He sipped more, eyeing you over the rim of the bottle, feeling stronger already.

He gave a grunt, picking himself up slowly. The Goblin King looped and arm around you loosely. He could conjure his crystals now, throwing one at at the flagstone floor to zap you both in a cloud of smoke and glitter to the chamber tower in the castle he had prepared, where you could rest up properly until you were better. 

“You could help you know” he huffed under his breath to drag you over to the four poster bed and lay you under the blankets.

Jareth piled quilts heaped atop you like a protective cocoon, with only your pale, sickly yet lovely face just barely peeking from beneath the mass of covers. The fire was going at the other end of the room.

“Not so bad- if I say so myself” he said with a satisfied nod and hands on his hips.

Jareth was about to take his leave when he peeled back the covers to slide his hand down to your ankles to tug off your shoes. He also clumsily removed the cloak he gifted you and then your own jacket, pegging them up behind the door and closing it quietly.