Lord Propar stood there, his face working furiously. Finally, he bowed his head, shoulders shaking.

"Lord Jareth, my daughter loved you so much... and yet you threw her away for another woman! A human woman, no less! What was wrong with my daughter, that you would stoop to such a thing?" He looked up, his face drawn in fury.

"You stole from my daughter yourself, the man she loved. Why then should I not avenge her by stealing the one you love now? A fitting punishment! Death would be too good for you... but living life tortured by the knowledge of what you did and what you could never have again?"

Emilie's face paled. Raman stared, and Jareth's own face grew stormy.

"Do you listen to your daughter whom you claim to love, actually listen?" He asked. "Or are you blinded by your so-called sense of parental duty? Your daughter is a wise and compassionate woman; she knows her own mind, and so should you know hers if your affection for her runs as deep as you say! I know we have never been on the best of terms, Lord Propar... your daughter and yourself are too different for that. She is gentle in her humble nature, but you have never been able to understand that, you with your overblown pride!"

"No! You are the one who can't understand!" Propar finally exploded, his face terrible in its rage. "My daughter is weak! She always has been, always been sickly! Who would want her for a wife when she can barely recover from one illness before another takes her? You tossed her aside like trash! You doomed her! Who would want her after seeing her shamed in that way! You... Yes, death would be too good for you.... So...!"

Before anyone could react, Propar had moved in a flash, wrapped an arm around Dawn's neck, and was squeezing hard while he stared around wildly.

"Let us go! Me and my daughters. Or else this human woman dies, and you'll have that on your hands, as well!"