As the sunset graced the horizon of the beige stone walls below her, a lone figure loomed on the ledge of an immense glassless window, leaning against the side with one leg bent and the other swinging aimlessly over the edge. Though the sun sank deeper into the gate of the Goblin City and beyond to the tangled mass of the Labyrinth, the figure was still unimpressed at the stunning sight. The waning golden light glinted on her flowing hair and young face, and gave her shadow a spindly aloofness, more so then what usually seemed to accompany her. Perhaps that was also a trait she inherited from her father, but she couldn't tell; her emotions were too wavered to tell anything apart. I'm getting more and more like him; damn it. To fit her dark mood, ominous murky clouds began to roll about the sky; preparing themselves for a torrential downpour. The first drops hit, heavy as lead; and as peals of thunder resounded across the sovereignty, she smiled and thought to herself on her job well done. The storm of the ages is upon us, and it's my entire fault. I wonder what Father will think of my 'inferior' powers now.... She uttered a laugh, though it became a husky growl as she suddenly sensed another presence in her room.
"Well, apparently now you decide to show your true colors. They are getting stronger, you know," the uninvited guest said, cynical and serious as he stepped from the interior of her room. Fine glitter settled on her wooden floor as he strode to her side, his eyes never leaving the back of her head, as if to see right through it to her face. He stroked her light, feathery hair. She seemed all too identical to him, but in the Goblin King's mind, that seemed all the better. Most of his Fae features had transferred to her, including my magic, thank gods, but Sarah had had her own influence on the girl. Through Sarah's gossip and stories, she now wanted to always be traveling Aboveground and see Sarah's world, read her books and know her histories. Jareth had let her on occasion, but of late she had been going all too often.
"Hello to you too, Father," she said, without turning to acknowledge his being. The last word was flung from her mouth with contempt, like it had a vile taste she just couldn't stand. She gruffly crossed her arms over her chest. "If my magic is getting stronger, why still call them 'inferior' to yours? Why compliment what you criticized before?" She stared at a random point of their rainy panoramic view, to at least focus on something other than him. To focus on anything other than him and this stupid fight.
He laid a thin, gloved hand on her tense shoulder, bent down, and whispered in his daughter's arrowlike Fae ear. "No matter how you look at it, your magic will only be stronger than mine once I'm dead. And you know that won't be for an indefinite amount of time, albeit much longer than you would hope. You still have much to learn, and I only can be your coach on such matters," Jareth rose from his crouch. "The goblins are fools past their simplicity; they couldn't teach you what you already know. You have far exceeded that level of guidance."
She finally turned to her father and sighed. Her eyes shone back an unknown light that communicated without speaking; saying that she knew he had said the truth, but still with the hint of that daring defiance that Jareth has habitually come to know from his daughter. She sighed once more and her eyes betrayed her, for she had threatened herself not to cry under any circumstance.
She blinked hard, but her eyes brimmed with the hot tears of emotional pain and the yearning to be redeemed. Jareth saw these in her eyes, and his hardened kingly exterior broke, if ever for the moment. She's too much like me. He thought back to his own pained childhood and teenage years. The Goblin King gently pulled his princess and only heir into a gentle-but-awkward hug, and she clung to the collar of his cape like a frightened child needing an adult's guidance. Digging her cheek hard into his chest, she proceeded to openly weep.
"I'm sorry, Father." Her tears darkened the pristine whiteness of his shirt, her sobs wracking her body and soul. The deafening roar of the rain receded to a soft drizzle, tears of acceptance falling from the heavens.
"I know, Child, I know..." He lied, smoothing her hair as comfortingly as he could, and he observed how much it was like his, but more streamlined and longer, the ends just brushing the small of her back. "I know." But it was a half-truth, wasn't it?
No, you absolutely don't know, but I can play at this game too, she thought.
Then she wondered: What am I even apologizing for? What the hell did I do?