Dizzy

The Goblin King was not happy. The Harvest Festival had never been an activity he relished. The streets were overcrowded with stalls and vendors selling every clothing, trinket and food stuff imaginable. Acrobats and magicians performed on street corners and the sounds of music, screeching children, and bustling shoppers polluted the air. He tried, to the best of his ability, every year to wait until the last possible moment before showing up for the Masque Ball. Years ago he’d show up in dramatic dress and twirling crystals, drink a little too much pixie wine, dance with all the beautiful woman and, if one pleased him, took her to his bed as soon as decorum would allow. But for a few years now he’d simply smiled at all the monarchs, talked business with a few of the nobles, ate the food, drank too much and returned to the castle beyond the Goblin City alone and cold hearted.

He would much rather not go at all,  but Alberon would have none of his protests. Especially now, since his Kingdom had gained so much power, his presence was particularly important. He’d vowed, this year, he would do better, use the opportunity to make a few more deals with the leader of the Minotaurs to the northeast and some of the other surrounding kingdoms. He had planned to benefit from the gathering of so many leaders, rather than feel as though he had to suffer through it.

But that was before she had shown up. Having heard she was Alberon’s guest of honor, he had decided to come up with some excuse, some pressing matter that meant he would be unable to attend the ball. He’d tried it in the past, to no avail, but this year he had a true motive for not wanting to go, so he’d figured he could come up with something even the High King could not overrule. To his dismay, the jovial head of the Underground had nipped his plans in the bud. No sooner had he decided he would do anything in his power not to go, Alberon had sent him a letter saying he would take no excuses and demanded he attend.

Needless to say, the Goblin King was frantic. He’d vowed not to see her; sworn to not let her presence in the Underground effect him at all. She hadn’t even gotten in contact with him after her recovery--not that he was disappointed or anything. No, no, he told himself, he was relieved that she was maintaining her distance.  He could ignore her in just the same way. She’d been the one to deny him in the first place, after all. Why would he expect her to seek him out when she probably hadn’t thought twice about him in the last seven years since she’d left the Underground, left him.

No, he was getting along swimmingly until the blasted summons. Now he would be forced to see her, to make small talk. His throat was suddenly dry as a thought came to him—he might even have to dance with her. The very idea made him shiver with fear and longing and he hated himself for it.

He was the Goblin King, damn it! He’d offered his heart to a 15 year old mortal girl and she’d stepped on it and beaten his Labyrinth in the process.  He had spent the last seven years rebuilding his kingdom and himself so that no one would ever have that kind of power over him again. He would not waiver within a few short days of her return to the Underground; not let all he’d accomplished mean nothing.

So what if he still loved and despised her. He would not let it daunt him. He resolved he would attend the ball and show Miss Sarah Williams exactly what he’d done with himself without her. He would show her that he had moved on and was now more powerful and terrifying than she could ever have imagined.

Any desires he had of learning how she had changed, what kind of woman she’d grown into, were quickly dismissed and shoved to the back of his mind. He would look into her eyes, give her his infamous smirk, and prove to her, and to himself, that he didn’t need her.