Blood Thirsty

In his chamber, Jareth perched upon a regal stool, a significant distance from his opulent bed. He appeared wholly occupied, and the slightest noise triggered a cutting glare that could prove fatal.

He sipped a cup of Earl Grey tea, the liquid a blend of black, before placing it back on the table with a soft thud.

"What is the matter?" He inquired, sensing the discomfort of his eunuch.

The eunuch hesitated before responding, "Consort Scarlet is being punished by Consort Vera."

At the mention of Scarlet's name, Jareth sat up and turned to his eunuch.

"What offence has she committed?" He asked, taking another sip of his tea.

"She spread false rumors about Consort Vera's infertility and showed support for her maidservant, Ilvia. As a consequence, she is to receive 200 lashes of t-" The eunuch was cut off by the aggressive sound of the cup crashing to the floor.

Never before had the eunuch witnessed a dangerous glint in Jareth's eyes, except during heated meetings with his ministers. This look, however, surpassed even those moments.

Jareth's usually gentle demeanor was replaced by a more dangerous one. Even his eunuch dared not stop him, as the slightest misstep could result in instant death.

"Where is she now?" Jareth demanded, standing and donning his black robe. He stood tall and formidable, his embroidered sleeves bearing the fierce image of dragons. His raven hair fell back, and his golden crown adorned his head as he furrowed his brows.

"S-she is in the dungeon designated for punished consorts," the eunuch stammered. Without another word, Jareth stormed out of his chamber, attempting to maintain a calm facade, though boiling with rage inside.

Something was amiss with Vera's punishment. Even though he did not regard her as a wife, she still belonged to him, and no one had the right to lay a hand on her but him. So how dare Consort Vera?

He clenched his fists behind his back, and in a blur of movement, he reached the dungeon unnoticed.

Scarlet's hands and feet were bound by thick chains, her legs splayed apart. Her once graceful form was now reduced to a pitiful state.

Her legs were quaking under the relentless beating she had endured, yet she remained standing. Her face was obscured by a cascade of disheveled hair, and her dress was stained with blood.

A sharp snap echoed through the room as the cane struck her, eliciting a muffled cry from her lips.

Jareth felt a pang in his heart, as if a blade had pierced through it, and he shared in her pain. But he knew he couldn't show her any mercy. She had to pay for her father's crimes, just as he had suffered for the loss of his own family. Yes, he would break her into pieces, and it was the only just decision. She would weep for her family, just as he had wept for his. That was all he could think as he turned away from her.

But then he heard Vera's small voice calling out to him.

"Your highness," she said with a bow.

Jareth turned to look at her with disdain as she smiled up at him.

Did she truly find satisfaction in others' pain? He couldn't help but wonder.

"Release her," he commanded, trying to stifle the unease in his throat as he clenched his fist.

"Your highness, don't you care about me?" Vera pouted. "She insulted me, saying I can't bear children. She must be punished for spreading such lies."

She knew this tactic had worked on him before - playing the victim - but not this time.

Without a word to Vera, Jareth moved closer to Scarlet and unlocked the chains binding her limbs. She fell weakly into his arms.

Ignoring Vera, he lifted Scarlet up in a bridal style and carried her out of the room.

Vera stood in shock, her clenched fist and stomping feet signs of her frustration. She turned to her servant and commanded, "Keep an eye on what his highness gets up to these days."

Despite spending the night together, Jareth had not touched her as he always did, making her suspicious of his intentions.

Ilvia paced back and forth, sobbing as she waited for her lady to be back. She was pained as her lady had to endure the pain just for her sake. When Scarlet appeared in Jareth's arms weakly, Ilvia rushed to them.

"My lady," Ilvia beckoned to Scarlet as Jareth laid her gently on the bed. Scarlet winced in pain.

Ilvia had expected Jareth to leave, but instead, he took a seat near Scarlet. For the first time, she saw a gentle expression on his face, rather than the cold, killer's look she had grown accustomed to. To her, he seemed like a different person altogether - physically Jareth, but in some ways, not quite.

"Fetch the Royal Physician," Jareth instructed, while Ilvia curtsied and quickly made her exit, leaving Jareth and Scarlet alone.

Feeling awkward, Scarlet turned away from Jareth, only to be met with a sharp pain. She hissed through clenched teeth.

"Stay still," Jareth commanded, gently rolling her back onto her side.

Her back and leg were in agony - even now, her legs trembled and her back throbbed from the beating she had received. She had never imagined she would be on the receiving end of such violence, but she was glad she had protected Ilvia.

The Royal Physician arrived and tended to Scarlet's wounds, while she winced in pain. When he was finished, he applied some ointment to help with the healing process.

"My Lady, with proper treatment, your wounds will heal in due time," the Royal Physician assured her.

Scarlet nodded, while the Royal Physician stood and bowed to Jareth. "Your Highness, may I take my leave?" he asked, to which Jareth nodded slightly, his focus still on Scarlet.

As the Royal Physician exited, Ilvia remained, trying to hold back her tears.

"Take care of your lady," Jareth said, standing up. For a moment, Scarlet shared Ilvia's thought that he was not truly Jareth - could it have been Darcie, she wondered. In the script she had read to some extent Darcie was able to control Jareth.

But as soon as he spoke, his usual demeanor returned, and Ilvia recoiled in fear. Jareth left the room with a graceful stride.

His mind was restless and consumed with a thirst for blood. It was all because of her - Scarlet. He blamed it on the bond he shared with her.

He made his way to the prison, where royal guards stood watch over the entrance. 

The entryway seemed impenetrable to all but their emperor, as if deliberately designed to keep out any intruders.

The underground chamber door creaked open, allowing only a sliver of light to penetrate the dark. The sound of screams echoed off the walls, each curse venomously directed at him.

"Devil!" one man spat, his words laced with regret only moments later.

Jareth's finger pointed to the offender, and within seconds, the guards dragged him out of the dungeon.

"Please, your Highness, spare me," the man pleaded, but his cries fell on deaf ears in the presence of Jareth.

He may have been labeled a devil, but he despised the title, especially since it was the reason for his parents' demise and sister. He blamed himself for their deaths.

Jareth's fingernails became long, his eyes turning a sinister blood red. With a swift stroke to the offender's neck, he ended his life as his head dropped to the ground, blood spattering everywhere.

Even after taking a life, Jareth still felt the insatiable thirst for more blood. He was a creature ruled by his primal desires, and anyone who dared to provoke him would meet their demise as well. Perhaps Scarlet could be the one to quell his bloodlust, he thought bitterly, before dashing away in a fit of rage.