Once upon a cursed king

Chapter 4: Oubliette

Just a mere five minutes from where Sarah lay sleeping in the bed & breakfast known as Granny's. Lay a rather familiar figure tossing and turning in his small apartment, trapped within a dream of his own. His once long and luxurious hair was now cut close to his head which he styled into that spiky I just got out of bed look that was popular nowadays. His artfully tilted eyebrows were gone along with his unique fae markings. The only thing recognizable was the eyes, those eyes that people often labelled mismatched, even though they were both, in fact an eerie ice blue. The pupil in one eye remained permanently dilated giving the illusion of a different coloured eye. Though if you were to inquire about the missing fae markings or the lack of sharp teeth he would think you quite mad. For the Jareth of Storybrooke was not the Goblin King but a musician people knew as Jareth Emyr.

Running, running why was he always running. Twists and turns, dead end after dead end, he wasn't getting anywhere. The fact was he didn't even know where it was he was trying to go or why he was in this giant maze. It was the same thing every night he dreamt of this place, nothing ever changed or so he thought but tonight he could tell there was something different about this dream. So he kept on running willing for something new to happen, turning down the next corner he could see a set of doors just ahead of him. Too eager to get to the doors he didn't notice the vine creeping towards him as he ran along the path. The vine reached him wrapping itself tightly around his ankle, the vine pulled back taking Jareth's legs out from under him it abruptly pulled him under a hedge where it dangled him above a deep hole before dropping him as quickly as it had caught him.

Jareth fell through the pitch black desperately trying to find something to grab onto. Clutching at the wall to try and slow his descent he eventually hit the floor. The dust flew up all around him coating his sweat-drenched face with a layer of grit and sand. He lay still, his heart trying to beat out of his chest as he tried to slow his breathing. Slowly he tried to sit up checking for any injuries, finding nothing he stood up. Groping the walls around him he tried to find a way out but there was nothing, not even the smallest crack.

"I wish I could just get out of this God forsaken hell hole!" He shouted frustrated as he slumped back down onto the floor.

"Now, now no need to bring God into this. It was you who was too busy looking ahead of yourself instead of noticing what was happening directly around you. Got a bit of a habit of doing that haven't you." A voice echoed through the trap.

Jareth frantically tried to see in the darkness for the person who spoke. A flash of light appeared in the far corner temporarily blinding him. His eyes slowly adjusting themselves, he stared wide-eyed at the figure in front of him.

"Who the hell are you?" Jareth glared at the confusing appearance of the being that stood before him.

"Oh, do we have to go through this every single night? You know it is getting rather tedious, why is it always the same inane questions? Who are you? What is this place? Why am I here? Then the questions turn to denial with the I don't believe you and so on and so on." He spoke in a severely bored tone. Playing with a ball of fire in his gloved hand letting it dim then brighten as it rolled from hand to hand over the back of his fingers then back to his palm.

"I'm sorry your not making any sense right now, I just want to get out of this place, wake up and never have to dream of it again." Jareth said a little more politely for fear that the stranger may decide to use the ball of fire on him.

Lounging casually against the wall in a pair of knee high black boots that blended into what looked like painfully tight leather trousers, with a white poet shirt opened out from the chest showing a strange looking medallion. His face the mirror image of Jareth's were it not for the strange markings around his eyes. His hair long and styled like an eighties rock band, short black leather gloves completed the unusual style of the stranger.