Ugh! and Fic-ness!
Hi all! Not to bitch or anything, but MY LIFE = grrrrARRRRRGH! I'm working on a Huge Academic Project of Doom - and by "working," I mean, "spinning my wheels." Also, I've had four rehearsals and three church services already this week, and I have four and three more (respectively) to go. And today's is going to be Hella Long.
[/emo bitching]
If I clap my paws on a recording device of some sort, maybe I'll try & share some of the music with y'all. Because it's pretty.
Anyway, Friday's been Fanday for quite some time, so here's the first chunk of a longer one-shot. Don't you hate it when your PWP acquires a plot? Lousy plot bunnies.
Read on!
Shards of a Dream
Looking back at that night, later, Sarah wondered if at any point she could have changed things.
***************
Gwen, Sylvie and Diana had taken a long time to explain the rules, Sarah thought, grinning, but they had never mentioned what to do if lord after gorgeous Fae lord was too busy ogling her cleavage to introduce himself properly.
Although the cleavage was all Diana’s fault. The bright-faced girl had found a dress, with her, at some random retail outlet, and then had insisted on handing the modestly cut green satin over to her bevy of female relatives. “She’s descended from the one of the guys who did the Emperor’s New Clothes,” Sylvie had said. “He knocked up the gaol keeper’s daughter, before the axe.”
Sylvie had thought that was funny - almost as funny as the look on Sarah’s face when Diana had explained that the best part of having spells woven into the laces (as she laced them) was “all the support of Victoria’s Secret, and absolutely none of the expense!”
They had all laughed. Gwen had come late, and had to have it explained - but she pushed them to new heights of hilarity when she demanded the same spells for her dress. “Friends don’t let friends go commando,” she had said, deadpan, “at least, not by themselves.”
***************
When it came to those explanations, though, Gwen had done an excellent job. As they had walked up the gravel path to the immense castle - Sarah’s heart had been pounding - she had kept up the steady stream of serious talk.
“Remember, don’t eat anything, don’t drink anything, and for the love of all the powers, don’t go away with anyone. If you stay by us, you should be fine, but just in case, run any lordling by us first, OK? Or lady. Oh, don’t look at me like that!” Gwen grinned. “If you had wanted to be bored, you could have gone to the library ice cream social.”
***************
Sylvie had started the whole thing, by inviting Sarah to the ball. They had met in a production of, predictably enough, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Sylvie had danced the part of a wood nymph, graceful and increasingly curious about Sarah, who was stuck playing Mustardseed.
It was only after a few miscommunications that Sarah realized the truth: Sylvie was a wood nymph for real. A sylph, actually. And her friends Gwen and Diana were the daughter of a Selkie (“she left me with my Da, the silly bint”), and an elf, respectively.
And all of the wary glances thrown Sarah’s way in high school, and through college so far - all of the loneliness and sighing on her own part - suddenly made sense.
“Love, the magic you’re putting out would put ‘em all off,” Gwen had explained.
Sarah had told them all about her loneliness, and her sadness, and they had nodded judiciously. Still, as Sylvie had gently pointed out, all the sorrow in the world didn’t excuse her making an ass of herself on youtube - even if (and they all agreed) she could work a black turtleneck.
***************
At the ball, they had crowded into a corner and watched, excitedly, as the higher-ranking attendees glided down the stairs. It was like the Oscars, the Emmys, and the prom, all rolled into one - and even if Gwen hadn’t been warning her nonstop, Sarah would have been too excited to eat a single bite. She clutched at the damp lace glove in her hand. Diana had explained the system of favors, and had given them all a spare, so they wouldn’t get tricked. Matching the honoring to the honoree formed half the fun of watching lords and ladies pour into the ballroom, shining with magic, leaving her breathless at their beauty.
***************
The final courtier only left off goggling at her cleavage when the highest ranks had finished their stately march. Trumpets sounded, and all eyes turned to a tall, dark-haired lord, dressed in darkest purple. He held out a hand in greeting and walked slowly down the steps.
“The King!” Gwen bellowed, “All hail!”
“Hail!” her friends chorused. The noise had reached a fever pitch.
“Damn, look at those shoulder pads,” Diana said, standing on tiptoe.
Sarah was taller; she looked over her friend’s head. “Where’s the Queen?”
Sylvie shrugged. “She’s not usually bothered with this business - I mean, if my King jumped anything with two feet and a pulse, I’d snub him, too -”
“Don’t forget the centaur,” Gwen said, winking.
Sarah blushed, “Geez -”… but then her eyes caught a flicker.
She stared.
There, in the King’s wake, she saw Jareth.
Sarah held her breath. The Goblin King had paused at the top of the stairs, then started to lope down them - but her eyes watered, and somehow hurt at the sight of his feather cape flickering - at him, almost fading in and out of sight - what -
“Hey.” She tapped Gwen’s shoulder. “Who’s that?”
Even though I know already -
“The King, stupid,” Diana said.
“No,” Sarah said, stung. “I mean the guy in back of him.”
“Last person out is the most powerful, Sarah; how many times do I have to tell you?” Gwen said. “His majesty looks well - wait - where are you -”
For Sarah had darted away.
***************
Her blood was pounding in her ears - it felt as though she were being swept somewhere, or flying down a zip line. Jareth, her mind chanted, Jareth, Goblin King - I’m here, I’m back, and I didn’t need you to get back, and - want to dance with me?
She bit back a breathless laugh. Everything’s turning up Sarah, she thought - new friends, and a party that beats any other Valentine’s Day shindig hollow, and I might as well ask him, even though he had been the villain of her piece. The memory had never left her, of their dance, even though it had the pulsing quality of a fever dream. But she remembered the expression in his eyes, and his singing to her …
When she had told her friends that something not-quite-human had given her a song, they had exchanged long looks, and nodded. “That would be enough,” Gwen had said, wisely, and “What did it look like, exactly?” asked Diana, who had a sketchbook.
Sarah had not described Jareth in too much detail. Somehow, she wanted to keep one secret to herself - now that the big one was out. Hi, Goblin King, she practiced, in her mind, and Turns out your song made me magic - awkward. Or maybe, I found my way here - want to dance with me?
She had not expected it to be difficult to find him, but it was.
He was lurking in a corner beneath the stair, arms crossed - that strange, flickering light - or non-light - surrounding him. She shook off a sudden qualm. Go for it.
“Goblin King, Goblin King …”
It was hilarious - he almost jumped, whirling where he stood.
Sarah laughed, giddy, despite herself. “Jareth - it’s me!”
She expected him to stare, brow furrowed. He did, and then his eyes widened in recognition.
But she had not expected him to hiss, in that voice she had never forgotten, “Leave.”
***************
Events were fragmented, flashes in her memory, but she could see the fault lines - where they might fit together.
***************
She hadn’t left, of course. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, and strongly resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him. “Yeah, nice to see you, too.”
“Is it?” The Goblin King raised a hand and twisted his fingers -
Sarah shook her head, hard, fighting off a wave of dizziness. “Ow - what the hell?” She began to glare at him, but stopped - because his image was blurring and clearing, blurring and clearing with her pulse, almost -
“What - hey!” she snapped. “Whatever magic that is, stop it!”
The strange pulsing stopped; and the Jareth remained there, staring at her.
Sarah glowered back at him.
“How …” he began. Then his lips pressed into a thin line.
“‘How,’ what? How are you? How have you been?” Sarah said. “How now, brown owl?”
“Barn owl,” the Goblin King murmured, and - so quietly, that she could hardly hear, “It really is you.”
“Sarah Williams, in the flesh.” She gave him a challenging grin.
He did not smile back. Instead, he tilted his head high, regal. “What do you do here, in the flesh, Sarah Williams? Why have you come to this place?”
***************
And whose fault had it been, anyway? Not her friends, who had only meant well. Not the worlds of Over and Underground, who had no hand in time’s unfolding.
***************
The whole story crowded onto the tip of her tongue, but - play it cool, her mind said, excitedly. It’s him, it’s really him, and he’s gorgeous -
“Why?” Sarah shrugged. “Change of scene. Nice party. That, and I thought I’d ask you to dance with me.”
“You came all this way,” Jareth said, softly, “all these many hours, and miles, and kingdoms and worlds - to ask me for dance?”
His words lingered on the air.
“And what if I did?” Sarah refused to back down.
“You might have saved yourself the trouble of such travel. You only ever needed to wish.”
“Yeah, but I learned my lesson about wishing a long time ago. So,” Sarah tipped up her chin. “Surprised?”
Finally, the Goblin King smiled. He had done so in a ballroom, long ago …
“Enchanted.”
***************
Most days, she was split between blaming herself, for not knowing the rules, and blaming him, for being who - or what - he was.
***************
“You are quite sure you wish to dance, Lady Williams?”
The Goblin King sounded genuinely curious, but ... Sarah squinted. After the flash of that smile, he had schooled his face into a bland politeness almost impossible to read. Shadows lay oddly on his skin, though, skewing away and wrapping closer at the same time. The way they fell on his cloak almost made the feathers writhe, and the way they pooled and dripped to the floor made her feel queasy - and that was no way to feel, on the verge of a dreamed-of dance …
“It’s Sarah, and yeah, I’m sure. Just drop whatever that is that’s making you go all melty.”
“What, this?” Jareth flicked a feather from his cloak; something crackled through the air -
And there he was. Her breath left her in a whoosh - there was the Goblin King she remembered, from their confrontation in the topsy-turvy remains of the Escher Room. Whatever magic had shrouded him was gone.
Still with such an impassive face … He stared at her, and his eyes glittered, in the way she remembered from the Labyrinth, and from her dreams …
***************
In the darkest hours, she was honest with herself. Was anyone to blame? Was it somehow a fault - to crave, to want, to be in thrall to the whisper of a voice and the brush of feathered cloak? …
***************
“That’s better.” She grinned at him. “You clean up nice.”
A corner of his mouth quirked. “Thank you.”
Sarah stuck out a hand. “C’mon.” When he did not move from the stairwell, she rolled her eyes. “Come on. I took a year of ballroom since we last - met. I won’t embarrass you. Or,” and she tilted her head, “are you scared?”
“Not I,” the Goblin King murmured, and he took her hand.
***************
Sarah remembered the ballroom, dazzling in marble and gold, and the dancers in velvet and gossamer whirling round. Last in line, she had walked into a place of illusion and pretense - and she had been warned.
***************
“You dance well.”
“Told you, didn’t I?”
“Mm.”
“You’re not as chatty as you used to be, Goblin King.”
“So?”
“So, you have about two minutes to get some better manners, because I’m going to introduce you to my friends.”
“My manners are always sufficient to my company.”
“Like hell - look, people are staring at you. That’s how weird you are.”
“They are not people, Sarah.”
“You know what I mean -”
“And they’re staring at us both.”
***************
Her friends had warned her, and had told her the stories: a sip from a bad glass, or a glance in a worse, and body or soul could be lost …
They had never told her a story of someone who lost both.
But, then, she had never asked.
***************
The music lilted to a stop. Sarah curtsied to the Goblin King, noticing, out of the corner of her eye, how wide a space there was around them. Her instincts shivered. Something’s wrong …
Setting her jaw, Sarah grabbed his upper arm and strode off the dance floor. To make the introduction, she told herself, ignoring the silence that spread wherever they walked, doing her best to keep from touching the feathered cloak, which smelled strange, and felt even stranger.
***************
No, she had never asked. Instead, she had introduced him to her friends.
And the story was set, from that point on.
***************
Sarah bit her lip, watching her friends draw closer together. Gwen was the first to curtsy, and the other two quickly followed suit - but Sylvie almost stepped on the hem of her own dress. Sylvie, who was a ballet dancer, for god’s sake. What the hell?
Jareth inclined his head; they straightened, and he bowed. A smile she could not read twitched around the edges of his mouth. His gaze rested on each her friends in turn, and - what was the problem? Gwen was looking determinedly over his shoulder, Sylvie and Diana stared in opposite directions.
None of them would meet his eyes.
Something’s wrong. The thought came to her in a flash, but she instantly knew it was true. I’ve messed up, somehow. Shit, shit shit - what do I do now?
Sarah decided to seize the bull by the horns. “Well,” she said, forcefully, “shall I make the introductions, then? Ladies, this is -”
“No!” Sylvie interrupted her, her voice cracking. Then Gwen spoke.
“Thank you, Sarah, but that privilege should be ours.”
And now Sarah felt bewildered, and hurt. The blonde’s voice was formal, and flat - she still did not look at Jareth, even as she continued, “Your majesty, honor compels me to name to you myself and my friends. Let it be known then, that I hail from Forest Green, and my companions from Longsword Keep.”
Wait - what? Sarah blinked. Only yesterday, Gwen had been going on and on about how Sarah had to meet her brother, in Dun Something-or-other, in Ireland. She had tried to pronounce it, and Diana had said, “Gesundheit,” and they had all laughed.
“Forest Green …” Jareth’s spoke softly, and gently. “I was not aware that the Lord and Lady of Forest Green had any issue whatsoever.”
Her friend’s jaw clenched. “I was sent away for fostering.”
“Ah.” And now Jareth sounded amused. What was going on? The Goblin King had plucked a long feather from his cloak; he was tracing its spine with slow strokes, but without looking at it. His eyes glittered with something that made her skin prickle. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am that such a fine company should attend my Sarah.”
He flicked his eyes towards her; she stared back, indignant. “Excuse me? One little dance does not make me yours, Goblin King.”
Jareth had a grin that could only be described as nasty, she thought, but she was distracted from that flash of sharp and crooked teeth by the sight of her friends all looking … sick? What -
“Sarah, Sarah Sarah -” he purred, and a movement caught her eye. Diana had grabbed Gwen’s arm. Diana, she saw … flushed and fiery Diana had turned the color of chalk.
She blinked, disconcerted, then found a target in the Goblin King’s smirk. “Leave off the name-calling.”
He laughed. “I call you only as I ever have, Sarah - and such a lovely name, too.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she snorted. “How about you introduce yourself, since my friends have been nothing but polite so far?” Jackass, she thought.
Jareth tilted his head to one side. The smile slowly slipped from his face. “But why would I wish to do that?”
Sarah saw Sylvie flinch; to cover up her worry, she snapped, “Because it’s good manners, which, as I’ve already told you, you seem to lack.”
“Ah, Sarah …” His eyes glinted from beneath their lids. “What if your well-mannered friends already know who I am?”
“Oh.” She paused. Gwen had said, “Your majesty” - oh. Uh-oh. OK, obviously you broke a big rule. OK. Goblin King 1, Sarah 0. He’s just pissed because you’re on his turf. Everyone’s allowed one social fuck-up per year. Get this over with, and we can get a martini and laugh about it.
“Whoops.” Sarah shrugged. “Then I’ll just be the dumb human here and wrap it up all informal. I’m Sarah, and these are my friends Gw -”
“Bronwen,” Gwen interrupted. “Of Forest Green.”
Sarah’s jaw dropped.
“And these are the daughters of Longsword Keep, Achren and Morwen.”
Jareth bowed again. “A pleasure.”
“Sure.” Sarah kept her voice high, to cover up the hurt. “So, whatever names you want to pick, this,” she made a ta-da gesture with her hands, “is Jareth the Goblin King. And now we’re all introduced, and we can go get some wine, or whatever they’re calling it these days.” She gathered up handfuls of the green dress, blinking hard. Just because you made one little mistake -
The rustling of her skirt sounded loud. Too loud.
Silence had fallen.
Sarah darted a quick look at her friends. They were staring at the Goblin King, who was - oh, shit. “Put that thing away, Jareth!”
He looked up from the crystal, glowing in his cupped hands. Its light shimmered over his face. “Why?”
“You and those crystals, I swear.” She strode up next to him, ready to swat at it. “I’ve only ever seen them when you’re about to do something - well, bad.” No gift for an ordinary girl, and this little slice, and fear me, love me, echoed through her memory, and Sarah swallowed hard.
“No need to fret.” His voice was soft, and he began to roll the orb back and forth, over and under his gloves. Sarah watched, drawn by the effortless motions, and the pearly sheen of his grey silk gloves dappled with moonlight, or starlight, crystal light … beautiful …
She shook her head to clear it, and gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Nice spell. What is it?”
“A mere pause.” The Goblin King quirked a smile at her, and it was just as bad as before, not softened at all by the glow of magic. “I thought we might have a little chat, you and I.”
“Why?”
He lifted both eyebrows. “For old times’ sake?”
Sarah snorted. “Try again.”
Jareth paused, and held the orb up to his chest. Its pale, strange light glimmered over the gold clasp of his feathered cloak. “Look at your friends.”
Sarah glanced over at them. Then she stared.
They were caught in place, as though by a camera, their emotions showing on their faces clear as day. Shock. Fear. Disbelief. Diana’s hand was still gripping Gwen’s arm; Sylvie’s hands were knotted around each other. Gwen’s free arm was raised - her fingers spread wide, as if to ward off a blow.
“What …” She swallowed. “What the hell did you do?”
“What did you do, more like.” Jareth let go of the crystal, matter-of-fact; it fell to the marble floor and shattered. Flickers of silvery light shone bravely from the shards, but the rest of the immense hall was plunged into darkness.
The effect on the scene made Sarah’s skin crawl. Her friends’ faces looked stark, almost like those of statues. Jareth’s looked even worse.
“You have no idea, do you?” His voice was kind, almost paternal, but then he smiled once more, and it was the shark-grin of a gargoyle.
Sarah squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I guess I don’t know all the rules for this place, Goblin King.”
“That much is very true. Which begs the question,” and he quirked an eyebrow. “Why did you come here?”
“It’s Valentine’s Day, and I wanted to go to a party -”
“And you had no other plans? Oh, what a shame.”
She flushed at the mockery. “Maybe I just wanted to have fun with my friends.”
“Your friends?” Jareth deliberately stepped on a piece of crystal; she heard an awful, grinding crunch. The faint lights flickered. “Do you honestly think your friends will want you here again, after what you just did?”
“What was it, then?” Sarah felt her throat start to close up. “What did I do wrong?”
Another crunch; the lights dimmed even further. “Ah, Sarah …” Jareth had stepped closer. “Such a small thing, such a petty thing, but …”
“But?”
“You told them my name.”
“That’s it?” Her breath left her, in a huff of disbelief. “Who the hell cares about that?”
The Goblin King’s eyes narrowed; he had stopped smiling. “Nobody knows it.”
Sarah blinked.
He sketched a mocking reverence with one gloved hand. “Except you.”
“Don’t forget Hoggle,” she sniped.
“I only wish I could.” Jareth crossed his arms over his chest. “But perhaps I have not been clear, Sarah. Those who know my name would never be found in this place, for they are of my kingdom, and they will not leave it while they live. They are mine - my vassals, my subjects. Mine to do with as I please.”
“So …”
“By telling your friends my true name, you do them an immense disservice. Those who know my name end up in my kingdom, somehow or other, and never leave. And they know it. Thus the fear.”
A scuff of his boot across the floor, and a few crystal fragments flew up into the air. Light flashed over her friends’ faces, before the shards fell again and vanished into darkness with their shattering.
“The invitation to this insignificant soirée came with the honorific ‘Goblin King,’ or, I should say, ‘G-g-goblin K-k-king.’” He laughed at his own mockery. “A fairy child herald to my dark tower came, not knowing if he would leave again; thus the stammering. But ‘Goblin King,’ not Jareth. The former is bad enough, for them.”
“‘Goblin King, Goblin King,’” she whispered, remembering.
“Well, that’s not the way it goes,” Jareth said, waving a hand in dismissal. “But the point is the same. The King of the Goblins exists to steal their children. The more specific a figure I am, to them, the more likely it is that they - will - slip - one day, and wish a child away, and then in grief, and sorrow, and through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered, et cetera, they will do their very best to retrieve the poor thing …”
“And?”
“And fail.” Another twist of a smile. “They always do. And that, Sarah, is why I am not invited to their parties very often.”
“They look at you like the bogeyman, because -”
“I am the bogeyman.” He clapped his hands together, mockingly. “Very good. I am so pleased to see your education has been worth the trouble and expense.”
Sarah clenched her teeth. “How often?” she asked, abrupt.
“Beg pardon?”
“How often do you get an invitation?”
His figure, a dim outline in the gloom, had gone still. “I think that none of your business.”
“Which means hardly ever, and of course I’m there at the same time,” she muttered, to herself. “Great. Fine. Goblin King,” and Sarah raised her voice, and dropped into a deep curtsy, “I most humbly apologize for using your highly honored name in polite company. Will you ever forgive me, your Majesty?”
She couldn’t straighten without wobbling, but that was the fault of the dress. Besides, he didn’t seem to notice. In fact … Sarah felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. It was too dark - she could not see his eyes.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “I don’t recall saying that you could get up.”
“Geez,” she rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her stomach had suddenly clenched. “Big etiquette mistake number two. Miss Manners would be ashamed of me.” And she swept down into another curtsy, and did her best to stay in place.
With her eyes lowered she could not see him at all - but she could hear the crunch of crystal as he stepped closer. And closer.
Sarah’s blood rushed in her ears. It was getting more and more uncomfortable to stay in place. That, and it was almost completely dark, so she could barely see his boots as they stopped just in her line of sight. But there was no way to miss the sensation of his feathered cloak drifting against her skin.
“Well now,” and his voice was even lower, but with an edge to it. “What have we here?”
“Someone trying to be polite -” she started, but caught her breath as one silk-clad finger brushed along the back of her neck. “I don’t recall saying that you could touch me, Jareth.”
“I don’t recall asking,” he said, still cold. “All the same …” and he tapped the base of her skull. “Up you get.”
Sarah hated being ordered around. But she hated the idea of taking the bait for some verbal trap even more. So, “Ugh,” she grunted, and straightened, grimacing at the way her knees cracked, and ignoring as best she could the weight of his hand on her neck. She fixed him with a flat look. “So, do you accept my apology?”
He did not reply. Instead, he stared at her, one gloved thumb resting at the base of her throat. This close, Sarah could feel the whisper of his warm breath on her face. She could see his eyes … widening in appraisal, glittering in the dark …
Her own breath caught, as he murmured, “How extraordinary.”
“What?”
“You.” Jareth tilted his head to one side. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
He sounded almost … curious? Sarah didn’t bother to get at his tone; instead, she lifted her chin. “Nope.” Then she hastened to add, “And you’d better not say something lame like “you will be” or “you’ll learn to be.”’
“Of course not. And besides,” Jareth said, “I rather doubt that you’re open to learning new things, at this stage.”
Sarah stiffened. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
He smiled that jagged-toothed smile again, but this time his thumb traced her collarbone. The smile widened as she gulped. “Merely that old habits are hard to break. Stubbornness, for example. Or foolhardiness. Speaking of which,” and he brushed the hand at her throat down her arm, and coiled his fingers round hers, “will you dance with me again?”
“God, you know how to charm a lady.” She rolled her eyes. “Who wouldn’t want you at one of these things?”
Jareth did not retort as he drew her closer, but stayed silent and watchful - his own eyes glinting with something she couldn’t place.
It was eerie, to dance without music and in such a dim light. Sarah was on the verge of asking him to magic up another crystal, but she thought better of it. And she thought it best not to ask him to sing. Instead, the swish of her green ball gown, and the brush of his feather cloak, along with the click of his boots and the tap of her shoes, made a faint and whispering music out of noise.
It grew darker and darker as they danced away from the glowing shards of crystal littering the floor.
When she looked back over her shoulder, and only saw at a distance the three faint silhouettes of her friends, only visible by means of the magic light, Sarah stiffened, remembering.
“Jareth …” she whispered, stepping closer to him in the pattern of the dance.
There was a pause; his hand at her waist shifted in a minute adjustment. Then she heard his voice, somehow rough. “Yes?”
“My friends …”
“What about them?”
“Why are they - stuck like that?”
“I told you, Sarah …” She felt the words slide across her cheek, warm, and lingering. “This is a mere pause. As soon as I lift the spell, everything will start again where it stopped.”
“Oh.” Sarah bit her lip.
“Nothing to worry about,” Jareth murmured, and she felt his words somehow pull at her skin -
“OK, what was that?!” she snapped.
“Ah, curse.” His voice was lazy. “You noticed.”
“Damn straight. What was it?”
“Just a small bit of persuasion, which you seem to dislike. Along with the glamour to make my person somewhat more appealing, and the geas to prevent you from seeing me or speaking my name in the first place. You’ve ignored them all, Sarah. Picture my disappointment.” He sighed. “Ah, me.”
“Yeah, I’m so sorry for you.” Sarah narrowed her eyes, squinting into the darkness. “But you can’t stop me worrying about my friends. If you do anything to them, Jareth, I’ll …”
She paused, trying to think of a decent threat.
“Yes?” The Goblin King’s voice sounded amused. “You’ll what?”
“Spill wine on your pretty cloak, tell everyone that you have bad breath, knock over your castle again, I don’t know,” she punched him on the shoulder, annoyed at the laughter that she could feel him trying to control. “Or maybe,” sudden inspiration hit, “I’ll french kiss some guy as soon as we get back; right in front of your glittery nose. How would you like that?”
“I fail to see how are the Gauls are germane to that course of action.” Jareth stepped to one side, neatly, and spun her in a circle. “And why do you imagine I would care?”
Sarah tried to ignore how his words stung. “If you’re like every other mouth-breather that my friends and I have run into at parties, you’d care. Believe me,” and she deliberately stepped closer, and guessed where his face was, in the darkness. She aimed her whisper at his ear. “You’d care …”
Jareth was silent. She felt his grip at her waist tighten.
They danced through a few more passes, saying nothing. She couldn’t see anything at all - even the glimmer of light from the crystal shards was now a distant speck. Sarah frowned, and then tugged at his hand. “My turn to lead.”
“I think not.”
“Actually, I think so, Jareth.” She pushed at his shoulder. “We’re too far away from my friends.”
“Your friends, your fine friends, your precious little friends …” Jareth’s voice slinked over her ears. “What have they done, to make you so fiercely loyal to them? If all it takes is a party invitation, I might remind you that I gave you one, first.”
“Yeah, but their invite wasn’t spiked.” Sarah focused on leading them back towards the light. “Besides, they explained - well, it’s a long story, but I met them at school, and before then, people seemed to hate me - but from the beginning, they didn’t.”
“Ah.”
“They’re talented,” she held his hand tighter, her fingers digging into the silk of his glove, “they’re nice, and yes, they did bring me to this - party, thing, whatever, but they wanted to show me a bit of life Underground. Gwen says she wants to figure me out.”
“Does she?” Jareth sounded thoughtful. “I take it you haven’t told them about the Labyrinth.”
“No.” Sarah squinted down at her feet; it was hard to steer, when she couldn’t see anything. But the pitch black was gradually shading to grey, and her slippers glinted silver up at her. “I thought that I should save that ‘til we’re drunk, or something. I mean,” and she shrugged, “it’s a bit of a weird story.”
“True, quite true. But surely your friends would be interested by the tale. Gwen, and - and who, Sarah dear?”
“Sylvie and Diana, and don’t call me -”
Her breath caught in her throat, as she realized - oh no -
All of a sudden, the crystal shards winked out.
Sarah stopped in her tracks. There was no light - she could not see her friends, and she could not see him.
“Ah …” The Goblin King’s voice slithered out of the dark. “You didn’t mean to say that, did you?” A pause, then, soft and dripping with malice: “Whoops.”
“No, Jareth -” She tore her hand free of his - I can’t see - and stepped in the opposite direction, heart hammering. “Jareth, if you do anything to them, I’ll -”
“You’ll what?” A derisive laugh. “Call up Higgle and those other mangy beasts of yours and tear down my castle a second time? If you could find it again, which I sincerely doubt, perhaps you would stroll through the gardens first?”
A rustle - was that his cloak? Sarah backed away further.
“The statuary is very fine - and my three most recent acquisitions will be particularly pretty things. A sylph, an elf, and what looks like a Selkie child - quite charming, if I say so myself.”
“You …” Sarah felt horror clutch her stomach. “You can’t do that.”
“Oh, I certainly can,” he crooned, gloating. “Not one of ten thousand calls me by my name, Sarah, for fear. They fear that if they know my true name, so I will know their true names, and I will call to them,” his voice dropped to a silken whisper, “call to them in the night, when there is no moon, or when the Hunt rides, or when we all dance at Midsummer’s Eve …”
Another faint sound, and then his voice was closer, still whispering, “Your Gwen, and Sylvie, and Diana - fair ladies three … I will call to them, and they will find their way to me, and no one who loves them will ever see them again …”
Sarah angrily dashed her hand over her eyes. My fault. My stupid fault -
The voice paused. “But you would not have it so?”
“No!” she shouted; her voice echoed through the blackness of the ballroom. “Of course not! What kind of person do you think I am?!”
Another pause. “A powerful one, obviously. The fear in your friends’ faces - some was for me, but a good deal of it, at the end, was for you. To speak so casually to the Child Stealer. To invite him to dance - tsk.”
“I told you,” Sarah gritted her teeth, “I had no idea that you were such an awful person, your Majesty.”
“Well, I am not a person, per se - but I suppose I am rather awful.”
For a long moment, Sarah heard nothing but the blood thumping in her ears - but then she heard a faint pop, and a hiss. She smelled a strange scent as soon as she saw a magical light glimmer, then begin to glow.
The magic spilled over his gloves, and to the floor, illuminating the Goblin King as he gazed at her. Jareth’s face was stark, inhuman - a study in light and shadow. Darkness licked between the feathers of his cloak, and caught at the three crystals that he was lazily passing between his hands.
He must have heard her stop breathing, for a smile tugged at the edges of his mouth, and he flicked his eyes down to the crystals. “Awful, and terrible, and a poorly behaved party guest. Some days, I am ashamed of myself.”
Jareth was quiet for a moment. Then her skin prickled at the sound of his laugh, as soft and sly as his voice. “But most days I try to turn such lamentable truths to my advantage.”
Sarah tried to swallow. “Really.”
“Yes.” He turned his head to the side - crystal light crackled along the edge of his jaw. “For I am awful, and terrible, the Goblin King, the Child Stealer, the Taker of Souls … but, Sarah, you still don’t seem to be afraid of me.”
It was hard to speak. “I think I’m getting there.”
“Well, no, for you see, your heart is hammering at such a wild pace for your friends’ sake. Were we the only two concerned, I daresay you would be mildly exasperated, and nothing more.”
Sarah inhaled. “Then make it just you and me. Whatever issues,” she stumbled, “whatever’s going on in that twisted mind of yours, between us - leave my friends out of it. They were just here for a party. They’ve - they’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Is that so?” Jareth spun the crystals round and round, loop after loop after loop, until Sarah felt dizzy. “Let me ask you, then …”
And one of the crystals stopped. He was holding it still - holding it out to her …
The memory flared to life: Fear me, love me … Sarah looked from the crystal to his face.
“What are your friends worth to you, Sarah?”
His expression made her blood go cold. “What?”
“Your friends.” He twirled the crystal in his fingers. “What will you give me for them?” Jareth watched the orb go back and forth, from his palm to the back of his glove, back and forth, and he smiled at his own skill. “After all, they would make such a pretty set. ‘The Three Graces,’ perhaps, or ‘The Three Who Really Should Have Known Better,’ or -”
“Stop it,” she whispered.
The Goblin King looked at her, eyes glinting beneath their lids. The crystal kept spinning; its fellows lay dormant in his other hand. “Why?”
“Because,” Sarah swallowed, “because I -”
Jareth waited. His gaze flickered, as she took a careful step forward - and then his eyes tracked her every move, as she closed the remaining space between them.
“Because you … what?” His voice, low as it was, mocked her.
“Because I asked you to.” She paused. “Please.”
Jareth’s eyes widened, and he began to sneer -
- but before he could retort, Sarah kissed him.
She felt him inhale sharply, through his nose, even as he went completely still. Wait - what’s wrong? What did I do?
She stepped closer, just a bit, but he did not move. She touched his hand, where he still gripped the crystal tightly - and he didn’t move. Sarah reached out questing fingers to the feathers of his cloak, and then jerked her hand back when she felt the snap of something like static electricity.
He still hadn’t moved. It was like kissing a statue.
Why isn’t he doing something? Sarah decided to give up. She broke the kiss and stepped away, clenching her teeth so they wouldn’t chatter. Her lips were tingling, but if he wasn’t even interested enough to kiss back -
“There,” she gritted out, staring at the floor and crossing her arms over her chest. “Is that good enough for you?”
Silence.
Sarah waited, then darted a glance up at his face. The Goblin King looked - and she frowned. Confused? Surprised? Not even those - more like … dazed? Although really, he didn’t seem the type …
He let the crystal in his left hand drop. Sarah winced, but the expected shatter did not occur; a flurry of iridescent dust floated away instead.
Jareth touched his fingers to his lips, still looking shell-shocked.
“Um,” she started. “Jareth?”
No response.
“Jareth? Say something.”
He was staring at the floor, just like she had been. “You kissed me.”
No shit, Sherlock. “For one of my friends, yes. But mostly because I wanted you to shut up.”
He hardly seemed to hear her, muttering, instead, as he stared, “I had thought - your firstborn child, or your vow never to return, your tears or your heartbreak or the heart of your first true love, but - you kissed me.”
The words made her skin crawl, as she pieced together their meaning, but she stood her ground. “Yeah,” and damn it, her mouth still had the ghost-imprint of his on it, tingling with something she had never tasted. She tentatively licked at her lower lip, and almost jumped as she saw his eyes pin her in place.
“You’re not afraid of me,” he rasped.
Sarah pressed her lips into a line, and shook her head.
“No, of course not,” he whispered, still staring, and then ran his tongue over the tips of his teeth. She swallowed hard. Jareth saw it, and his eyes gleamed. “A kiss for your friend - three kisses,” he said, his voice suddenly thick, “for your three friends.”
********
... to be continued ...
[/emo bitching]
If I clap my paws on a recording device of some sort, maybe I'll try & share some of the music with y'all. Because it's pretty.
Anyway, Friday's been Fanday for quite some time, so here's the first chunk of a longer one-shot. Don't you hate it when your PWP acquires a plot? Lousy plot bunnies.
Read on!
Shards of a Dream
Looking back at that night, later, Sarah wondered if at any point she could have changed things.
***************
Gwen, Sylvie and Diana had taken a long time to explain the rules, Sarah thought, grinning, but they had never mentioned what to do if lord after gorgeous Fae lord was too busy ogling her cleavage to introduce himself properly.
Although the cleavage was all Diana’s fault. The bright-faced girl had found a dress, with her, at some random retail outlet, and then had insisted on handing the modestly cut green satin over to her bevy of female relatives. “She’s descended from the one of the guys who did the Emperor’s New Clothes,” Sylvie had said. “He knocked up the gaol keeper’s daughter, before the axe.”
Sylvie had thought that was funny - almost as funny as the look on Sarah’s face when Diana had explained that the best part of having spells woven into the laces (as she laced them) was “all the support of Victoria’s Secret, and absolutely none of the expense!”
They had all laughed. Gwen had come late, and had to have it explained - but she pushed them to new heights of hilarity when she demanded the same spells for her dress. “Friends don’t let friends go commando,” she had said, deadpan, “at least, not by themselves.”
***************
When it came to those explanations, though, Gwen had done an excellent job. As they had walked up the gravel path to the immense castle - Sarah’s heart had been pounding - she had kept up the steady stream of serious talk.
“Remember, don’t eat anything, don’t drink anything, and for the love of all the powers, don’t go away with anyone. If you stay by us, you should be fine, but just in case, run any lordling by us first, OK? Or lady. Oh, don’t look at me like that!” Gwen grinned. “If you had wanted to be bored, you could have gone to the library ice cream social.”
***************
Sylvie had started the whole thing, by inviting Sarah to the ball. They had met in a production of, predictably enough, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Sylvie had danced the part of a wood nymph, graceful and increasingly curious about Sarah, who was stuck playing Mustardseed.
It was only after a few miscommunications that Sarah realized the truth: Sylvie was a wood nymph for real. A sylph, actually. And her friends Gwen and Diana were the daughter of a Selkie (“she left me with my Da, the silly bint”), and an elf, respectively.
And all of the wary glances thrown Sarah’s way in high school, and through college so far - all of the loneliness and sighing on her own part - suddenly made sense.
“Love, the magic you’re putting out would put ‘em all off,” Gwen had explained.
Sarah had told them all about her loneliness, and her sadness, and they had nodded judiciously. Still, as Sylvie had gently pointed out, all the sorrow in the world didn’t excuse her making an ass of herself on youtube - even if (and they all agreed) she could work a black turtleneck.
***************
At the ball, they had crowded into a corner and watched, excitedly, as the higher-ranking attendees glided down the stairs. It was like the Oscars, the Emmys, and the prom, all rolled into one - and even if Gwen hadn’t been warning her nonstop, Sarah would have been too excited to eat a single bite. She clutched at the damp lace glove in her hand. Diana had explained the system of favors, and had given them all a spare, so they wouldn’t get tricked. Matching the honoring to the honoree formed half the fun of watching lords and ladies pour into the ballroom, shining with magic, leaving her breathless at their beauty.
***************
The final courtier only left off goggling at her cleavage when the highest ranks had finished their stately march. Trumpets sounded, and all eyes turned to a tall, dark-haired lord, dressed in darkest purple. He held out a hand in greeting and walked slowly down the steps.
“The King!” Gwen bellowed, “All hail!”
“Hail!” her friends chorused. The noise had reached a fever pitch.
“Damn, look at those shoulder pads,” Diana said, standing on tiptoe.
Sarah was taller; she looked over her friend’s head. “Where’s the Queen?”
Sylvie shrugged. “She’s not usually bothered with this business - I mean, if my King jumped anything with two feet and a pulse, I’d snub him, too -”
“Don’t forget the centaur,” Gwen said, winking.
Sarah blushed, “Geez -”… but then her eyes caught a flicker.
She stared.
There, in the King’s wake, she saw Jareth.
Sarah held her breath. The Goblin King had paused at the top of the stairs, then started to lope down them - but her eyes watered, and somehow hurt at the sight of his feather cape flickering - at him, almost fading in and out of sight - what -
“Hey.” She tapped Gwen’s shoulder. “Who’s that?”
Even though I know already -
“The King, stupid,” Diana said.
“No,” Sarah said, stung. “I mean the guy in back of him.”
“Last person out is the most powerful, Sarah; how many times do I have to tell you?” Gwen said. “His majesty looks well - wait - where are you -”
For Sarah had darted away.
***************
Her blood was pounding in her ears - it felt as though she were being swept somewhere, or flying down a zip line. Jareth, her mind chanted, Jareth, Goblin King - I’m here, I’m back, and I didn’t need you to get back, and - want to dance with me?
She bit back a breathless laugh. Everything’s turning up Sarah, she thought - new friends, and a party that beats any other Valentine’s Day shindig hollow, and I might as well ask him, even though he had been the villain of her piece. The memory had never left her, of their dance, even though it had the pulsing quality of a fever dream. But she remembered the expression in his eyes, and his singing to her …
When she had told her friends that something not-quite-human had given her a song, they had exchanged long looks, and nodded. “That would be enough,” Gwen had said, wisely, and “What did it look like, exactly?” asked Diana, who had a sketchbook.
Sarah had not described Jareth in too much detail. Somehow, she wanted to keep one secret to herself - now that the big one was out. Hi, Goblin King, she practiced, in her mind, and Turns out your song made me magic - awkward. Or maybe, I found my way here - want to dance with me?
She had not expected it to be difficult to find him, but it was.
He was lurking in a corner beneath the stair, arms crossed - that strange, flickering light - or non-light - surrounding him. She shook off a sudden qualm. Go for it.
“Goblin King, Goblin King …”
It was hilarious - he almost jumped, whirling where he stood.
Sarah laughed, giddy, despite herself. “Jareth - it’s me!”
She expected him to stare, brow furrowed. He did, and then his eyes widened in recognition.
But she had not expected him to hiss, in that voice she had never forgotten, “Leave.”
***************
Events were fragmented, flashes in her memory, but she could see the fault lines - where they might fit together.
***************
She hadn’t left, of course. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, and strongly resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him. “Yeah, nice to see you, too.”
“Is it?” The Goblin King raised a hand and twisted his fingers -
Sarah shook her head, hard, fighting off a wave of dizziness. “Ow - what the hell?” She began to glare at him, but stopped - because his image was blurring and clearing, blurring and clearing with her pulse, almost -
“What - hey!” she snapped. “Whatever magic that is, stop it!”
The strange pulsing stopped; and the Jareth remained there, staring at her.
Sarah glowered back at him.
“How …” he began. Then his lips pressed into a thin line.
“‘How,’ what? How are you? How have you been?” Sarah said. “How now, brown owl?”
“Barn owl,” the Goblin King murmured, and - so quietly, that she could hardly hear, “It really is you.”
“Sarah Williams, in the flesh.” She gave him a challenging grin.
He did not smile back. Instead, he tilted his head high, regal. “What do you do here, in the flesh, Sarah Williams? Why have you come to this place?”
***************
And whose fault had it been, anyway? Not her friends, who had only meant well. Not the worlds of Over and Underground, who had no hand in time’s unfolding.
***************
The whole story crowded onto the tip of her tongue, but - play it cool, her mind said, excitedly. It’s him, it’s really him, and he’s gorgeous -
“Why?” Sarah shrugged. “Change of scene. Nice party. That, and I thought I’d ask you to dance with me.”
“You came all this way,” Jareth said, softly, “all these many hours, and miles, and kingdoms and worlds - to ask me for dance?”
His words lingered on the air.
“And what if I did?” Sarah refused to back down.
“You might have saved yourself the trouble of such travel. You only ever needed to wish.”
“Yeah, but I learned my lesson about wishing a long time ago. So,” Sarah tipped up her chin. “Surprised?”
Finally, the Goblin King smiled. He had done so in a ballroom, long ago …
“Enchanted.”
***************
Most days, she was split between blaming herself, for not knowing the rules, and blaming him, for being who - or what - he was.
***************
“You are quite sure you wish to dance, Lady Williams?”
The Goblin King sounded genuinely curious, but ... Sarah squinted. After the flash of that smile, he had schooled his face into a bland politeness almost impossible to read. Shadows lay oddly on his skin, though, skewing away and wrapping closer at the same time. The way they fell on his cloak almost made the feathers writhe, and the way they pooled and dripped to the floor made her feel queasy - and that was no way to feel, on the verge of a dreamed-of dance …
“It’s Sarah, and yeah, I’m sure. Just drop whatever that is that’s making you go all melty.”
“What, this?” Jareth flicked a feather from his cloak; something crackled through the air -
And there he was. Her breath left her in a whoosh - there was the Goblin King she remembered, from their confrontation in the topsy-turvy remains of the Escher Room. Whatever magic had shrouded him was gone.
Still with such an impassive face … He stared at her, and his eyes glittered, in the way she remembered from the Labyrinth, and from her dreams …
***************
In the darkest hours, she was honest with herself. Was anyone to blame? Was it somehow a fault - to crave, to want, to be in thrall to the whisper of a voice and the brush of feathered cloak? …
***************
“That’s better.” She grinned at him. “You clean up nice.”
A corner of his mouth quirked. “Thank you.”
Sarah stuck out a hand. “C’mon.” When he did not move from the stairwell, she rolled her eyes. “Come on. I took a year of ballroom since we last - met. I won’t embarrass you. Or,” and she tilted her head, “are you scared?”
“Not I,” the Goblin King murmured, and he took her hand.
***************
Sarah remembered the ballroom, dazzling in marble and gold, and the dancers in velvet and gossamer whirling round. Last in line, she had walked into a place of illusion and pretense - and she had been warned.
***************
“You dance well.”
“Told you, didn’t I?”
“Mm.”
“You’re not as chatty as you used to be, Goblin King.”
“So?”
“So, you have about two minutes to get some better manners, because I’m going to introduce you to my friends.”
“My manners are always sufficient to my company.”
“Like hell - look, people are staring at you. That’s how weird you are.”
“They are not people, Sarah.”
“You know what I mean -”
“And they’re staring at us both.”
***************
Her friends had warned her, and had told her the stories: a sip from a bad glass, or a glance in a worse, and body or soul could be lost …
They had never told her a story of someone who lost both.
But, then, she had never asked.
***************
The music lilted to a stop. Sarah curtsied to the Goblin King, noticing, out of the corner of her eye, how wide a space there was around them. Her instincts shivered. Something’s wrong …
Setting her jaw, Sarah grabbed his upper arm and strode off the dance floor. To make the introduction, she told herself, ignoring the silence that spread wherever they walked, doing her best to keep from touching the feathered cloak, which smelled strange, and felt even stranger.
***************
No, she had never asked. Instead, she had introduced him to her friends.
And the story was set, from that point on.
***************
Sarah bit her lip, watching her friends draw closer together. Gwen was the first to curtsy, and the other two quickly followed suit - but Sylvie almost stepped on the hem of her own dress. Sylvie, who was a ballet dancer, for god’s sake. What the hell?
Jareth inclined his head; they straightened, and he bowed. A smile she could not read twitched around the edges of his mouth. His gaze rested on each her friends in turn, and - what was the problem? Gwen was looking determinedly over his shoulder, Sylvie and Diana stared in opposite directions.
None of them would meet his eyes.
Something’s wrong. The thought came to her in a flash, but she instantly knew it was true. I’ve messed up, somehow. Shit, shit shit - what do I do now?
Sarah decided to seize the bull by the horns. “Well,” she said, forcefully, “shall I make the introductions, then? Ladies, this is -”
“No!” Sylvie interrupted her, her voice cracking. Then Gwen spoke.
“Thank you, Sarah, but that privilege should be ours.”
And now Sarah felt bewildered, and hurt. The blonde’s voice was formal, and flat - she still did not look at Jareth, even as she continued, “Your majesty, honor compels me to name to you myself and my friends. Let it be known then, that I hail from Forest Green, and my companions from Longsword Keep.”
Wait - what? Sarah blinked. Only yesterday, Gwen had been going on and on about how Sarah had to meet her brother, in Dun Something-or-other, in Ireland. She had tried to pronounce it, and Diana had said, “Gesundheit,” and they had all laughed.
“Forest Green …” Jareth’s spoke softly, and gently. “I was not aware that the Lord and Lady of Forest Green had any issue whatsoever.”
Her friend’s jaw clenched. “I was sent away for fostering.”
“Ah.” And now Jareth sounded amused. What was going on? The Goblin King had plucked a long feather from his cloak; he was tracing its spine with slow strokes, but without looking at it. His eyes glittered with something that made her skin prickle. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am that such a fine company should attend my Sarah.”
He flicked his eyes towards her; she stared back, indignant. “Excuse me? One little dance does not make me yours, Goblin King.”
Jareth had a grin that could only be described as nasty, she thought, but she was distracted from that flash of sharp and crooked teeth by the sight of her friends all looking … sick? What -
“Sarah, Sarah Sarah -” he purred, and a movement caught her eye. Diana had grabbed Gwen’s arm. Diana, she saw … flushed and fiery Diana had turned the color of chalk.
She blinked, disconcerted, then found a target in the Goblin King’s smirk. “Leave off the name-calling.”
He laughed. “I call you only as I ever have, Sarah - and such a lovely name, too.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she snorted. “How about you introduce yourself, since my friends have been nothing but polite so far?” Jackass, she thought.
Jareth tilted his head to one side. The smile slowly slipped from his face. “But why would I wish to do that?”
Sarah saw Sylvie flinch; to cover up her worry, she snapped, “Because it’s good manners, which, as I’ve already told you, you seem to lack.”
“Ah, Sarah …” His eyes glinted from beneath their lids. “What if your well-mannered friends already know who I am?”
“Oh.” She paused. Gwen had said, “Your majesty” - oh. Uh-oh. OK, obviously you broke a big rule. OK. Goblin King 1, Sarah 0. He’s just pissed because you’re on his turf. Everyone’s allowed one social fuck-up per year. Get this over with, and we can get a martini and laugh about it.
“Whoops.” Sarah shrugged. “Then I’ll just be the dumb human here and wrap it up all informal. I’m Sarah, and these are my friends Gw -”
“Bronwen,” Gwen interrupted. “Of Forest Green.”
Sarah’s jaw dropped.
“And these are the daughters of Longsword Keep, Achren and Morwen.”
Jareth bowed again. “A pleasure.”
“Sure.” Sarah kept her voice high, to cover up the hurt. “So, whatever names you want to pick, this,” she made a ta-da gesture with her hands, “is Jareth the Goblin King. And now we’re all introduced, and we can go get some wine, or whatever they’re calling it these days.” She gathered up handfuls of the green dress, blinking hard. Just because you made one little mistake -
The rustling of her skirt sounded loud. Too loud.
Silence had fallen.
Sarah darted a quick look at her friends. They were staring at the Goblin King, who was - oh, shit. “Put that thing away, Jareth!”
He looked up from the crystal, glowing in his cupped hands. Its light shimmered over his face. “Why?”
“You and those crystals, I swear.” She strode up next to him, ready to swat at it. “I’ve only ever seen them when you’re about to do something - well, bad.” No gift for an ordinary girl, and this little slice, and fear me, love me, echoed through her memory, and Sarah swallowed hard.
“No need to fret.” His voice was soft, and he began to roll the orb back and forth, over and under his gloves. Sarah watched, drawn by the effortless motions, and the pearly sheen of his grey silk gloves dappled with moonlight, or starlight, crystal light … beautiful …
She shook her head to clear it, and gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Nice spell. What is it?”
“A mere pause.” The Goblin King quirked a smile at her, and it was just as bad as before, not softened at all by the glow of magic. “I thought we might have a little chat, you and I.”
“Why?”
He lifted both eyebrows. “For old times’ sake?”
Sarah snorted. “Try again.”
Jareth paused, and held the orb up to his chest. Its pale, strange light glimmered over the gold clasp of his feathered cloak. “Look at your friends.”
Sarah glanced over at them. Then she stared.
They were caught in place, as though by a camera, their emotions showing on their faces clear as day. Shock. Fear. Disbelief. Diana’s hand was still gripping Gwen’s arm; Sylvie’s hands were knotted around each other. Gwen’s free arm was raised - her fingers spread wide, as if to ward off a blow.
“What …” She swallowed. “What the hell did you do?”
“What did you do, more like.” Jareth let go of the crystal, matter-of-fact; it fell to the marble floor and shattered. Flickers of silvery light shone bravely from the shards, but the rest of the immense hall was plunged into darkness.
The effect on the scene made Sarah’s skin crawl. Her friends’ faces looked stark, almost like those of statues. Jareth’s looked even worse.
“You have no idea, do you?” His voice was kind, almost paternal, but then he smiled once more, and it was the shark-grin of a gargoyle.
Sarah squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I guess I don’t know all the rules for this place, Goblin King.”
“That much is very true. Which begs the question,” and he quirked an eyebrow. “Why did you come here?”
“It’s Valentine’s Day, and I wanted to go to a party -”
“And you had no other plans? Oh, what a shame.”
She flushed at the mockery. “Maybe I just wanted to have fun with my friends.”
“Your friends?” Jareth deliberately stepped on a piece of crystal; she heard an awful, grinding crunch. The faint lights flickered. “Do you honestly think your friends will want you here again, after what you just did?”
“What was it, then?” Sarah felt her throat start to close up. “What did I do wrong?”
Another crunch; the lights dimmed even further. “Ah, Sarah …” Jareth had stepped closer. “Such a small thing, such a petty thing, but …”
“But?”
“You told them my name.”
“That’s it?” Her breath left her, in a huff of disbelief. “Who the hell cares about that?”
The Goblin King’s eyes narrowed; he had stopped smiling. “Nobody knows it.”
Sarah blinked.
He sketched a mocking reverence with one gloved hand. “Except you.”
“Don’t forget Hoggle,” she sniped.
“I only wish I could.” Jareth crossed his arms over his chest. “But perhaps I have not been clear, Sarah. Those who know my name would never be found in this place, for they are of my kingdom, and they will not leave it while they live. They are mine - my vassals, my subjects. Mine to do with as I please.”
“So …”
“By telling your friends my true name, you do them an immense disservice. Those who know my name end up in my kingdom, somehow or other, and never leave. And they know it. Thus the fear.”
A scuff of his boot across the floor, and a few crystal fragments flew up into the air. Light flashed over her friends’ faces, before the shards fell again and vanished into darkness with their shattering.
“The invitation to this insignificant soirée came with the honorific ‘Goblin King,’ or, I should say, ‘G-g-goblin K-k-king.’” He laughed at his own mockery. “A fairy child herald to my dark tower came, not knowing if he would leave again; thus the stammering. But ‘Goblin King,’ not Jareth. The former is bad enough, for them.”
“‘Goblin King, Goblin King,’” she whispered, remembering.
“Well, that’s not the way it goes,” Jareth said, waving a hand in dismissal. “But the point is the same. The King of the Goblins exists to steal their children. The more specific a figure I am, to them, the more likely it is that they - will - slip - one day, and wish a child away, and then in grief, and sorrow, and through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered, et cetera, they will do their very best to retrieve the poor thing …”
“And?”
“And fail.” Another twist of a smile. “They always do. And that, Sarah, is why I am not invited to their parties very often.”
“They look at you like the bogeyman, because -”
“I am the bogeyman.” He clapped his hands together, mockingly. “Very good. I am so pleased to see your education has been worth the trouble and expense.”
Sarah clenched her teeth. “How often?” she asked, abrupt.
“Beg pardon?”
“How often do you get an invitation?”
His figure, a dim outline in the gloom, had gone still. “I think that none of your business.”
“Which means hardly ever, and of course I’m there at the same time,” she muttered, to herself. “Great. Fine. Goblin King,” and Sarah raised her voice, and dropped into a deep curtsy, “I most humbly apologize for using your highly honored name in polite company. Will you ever forgive me, your Majesty?”
She couldn’t straighten without wobbling, but that was the fault of the dress. Besides, he didn’t seem to notice. In fact … Sarah felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. It was too dark - she could not see his eyes.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “I don’t recall saying that you could get up.”
“Geez,” she rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her stomach had suddenly clenched. “Big etiquette mistake number two. Miss Manners would be ashamed of me.” And she swept down into another curtsy, and did her best to stay in place.
With her eyes lowered she could not see him at all - but she could hear the crunch of crystal as he stepped closer. And closer.
Sarah’s blood rushed in her ears. It was getting more and more uncomfortable to stay in place. That, and it was almost completely dark, so she could barely see his boots as they stopped just in her line of sight. But there was no way to miss the sensation of his feathered cloak drifting against her skin.
“Well now,” and his voice was even lower, but with an edge to it. “What have we here?”
“Someone trying to be polite -” she started, but caught her breath as one silk-clad finger brushed along the back of her neck. “I don’t recall saying that you could touch me, Jareth.”
“I don’t recall asking,” he said, still cold. “All the same …” and he tapped the base of her skull. “Up you get.”
Sarah hated being ordered around. But she hated the idea of taking the bait for some verbal trap even more. So, “Ugh,” she grunted, and straightened, grimacing at the way her knees cracked, and ignoring as best she could the weight of his hand on her neck. She fixed him with a flat look. “So, do you accept my apology?”
He did not reply. Instead, he stared at her, one gloved thumb resting at the base of her throat. This close, Sarah could feel the whisper of his warm breath on her face. She could see his eyes … widening in appraisal, glittering in the dark …
Her own breath caught, as he murmured, “How extraordinary.”
“What?”
“You.” Jareth tilted his head to one side. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
He sounded almost … curious? Sarah didn’t bother to get at his tone; instead, she lifted her chin. “Nope.” Then she hastened to add, “And you’d better not say something lame like “you will be” or “you’ll learn to be.”’
“Of course not. And besides,” Jareth said, “I rather doubt that you’re open to learning new things, at this stage.”
Sarah stiffened. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
He smiled that jagged-toothed smile again, but this time his thumb traced her collarbone. The smile widened as she gulped. “Merely that old habits are hard to break. Stubbornness, for example. Or foolhardiness. Speaking of which,” and he brushed the hand at her throat down her arm, and coiled his fingers round hers, “will you dance with me again?”
“God, you know how to charm a lady.” She rolled her eyes. “Who wouldn’t want you at one of these things?”
Jareth did not retort as he drew her closer, but stayed silent and watchful - his own eyes glinting with something she couldn’t place.
It was eerie, to dance without music and in such a dim light. Sarah was on the verge of asking him to magic up another crystal, but she thought better of it. And she thought it best not to ask him to sing. Instead, the swish of her green ball gown, and the brush of his feather cloak, along with the click of his boots and the tap of her shoes, made a faint and whispering music out of noise.
It grew darker and darker as they danced away from the glowing shards of crystal littering the floor.
When she looked back over her shoulder, and only saw at a distance the three faint silhouettes of her friends, only visible by means of the magic light, Sarah stiffened, remembering.
“Jareth …” she whispered, stepping closer to him in the pattern of the dance.
There was a pause; his hand at her waist shifted in a minute adjustment. Then she heard his voice, somehow rough. “Yes?”
“My friends …”
“What about them?”
“Why are they - stuck like that?”
“I told you, Sarah …” She felt the words slide across her cheek, warm, and lingering. “This is a mere pause. As soon as I lift the spell, everything will start again where it stopped.”
“Oh.” Sarah bit her lip.
“Nothing to worry about,” Jareth murmured, and she felt his words somehow pull at her skin -
“OK, what was that?!” she snapped.
“Ah, curse.” His voice was lazy. “You noticed.”
“Damn straight. What was it?”
“Just a small bit of persuasion, which you seem to dislike. Along with the glamour to make my person somewhat more appealing, and the geas to prevent you from seeing me or speaking my name in the first place. You’ve ignored them all, Sarah. Picture my disappointment.” He sighed. “Ah, me.”
“Yeah, I’m so sorry for you.” Sarah narrowed her eyes, squinting into the darkness. “But you can’t stop me worrying about my friends. If you do anything to them, Jareth, I’ll …”
She paused, trying to think of a decent threat.
“Yes?” The Goblin King’s voice sounded amused. “You’ll what?”
“Spill wine on your pretty cloak, tell everyone that you have bad breath, knock over your castle again, I don’t know,” she punched him on the shoulder, annoyed at the laughter that she could feel him trying to control. “Or maybe,” sudden inspiration hit, “I’ll french kiss some guy as soon as we get back; right in front of your glittery nose. How would you like that?”
“I fail to see how are the Gauls are germane to that course of action.” Jareth stepped to one side, neatly, and spun her in a circle. “And why do you imagine I would care?”
Sarah tried to ignore how his words stung. “If you’re like every other mouth-breather that my friends and I have run into at parties, you’d care. Believe me,” and she deliberately stepped closer, and guessed where his face was, in the darkness. She aimed her whisper at his ear. “You’d care …”
Jareth was silent. She felt his grip at her waist tighten.
They danced through a few more passes, saying nothing. She couldn’t see anything at all - even the glimmer of light from the crystal shards was now a distant speck. Sarah frowned, and then tugged at his hand. “My turn to lead.”
“I think not.”
“Actually, I think so, Jareth.” She pushed at his shoulder. “We’re too far away from my friends.”
“Your friends, your fine friends, your precious little friends …” Jareth’s voice slinked over her ears. “What have they done, to make you so fiercely loyal to them? If all it takes is a party invitation, I might remind you that I gave you one, first.”
“Yeah, but their invite wasn’t spiked.” Sarah focused on leading them back towards the light. “Besides, they explained - well, it’s a long story, but I met them at school, and before then, people seemed to hate me - but from the beginning, they didn’t.”
“Ah.”
“They’re talented,” she held his hand tighter, her fingers digging into the silk of his glove, “they’re nice, and yes, they did bring me to this - party, thing, whatever, but they wanted to show me a bit of life Underground. Gwen says she wants to figure me out.”
“Does she?” Jareth sounded thoughtful. “I take it you haven’t told them about the Labyrinth.”
“No.” Sarah squinted down at her feet; it was hard to steer, when she couldn’t see anything. But the pitch black was gradually shading to grey, and her slippers glinted silver up at her. “I thought that I should save that ‘til we’re drunk, or something. I mean,” and she shrugged, “it’s a bit of a weird story.”
“True, quite true. But surely your friends would be interested by the tale. Gwen, and - and who, Sarah dear?”
“Sylvie and Diana, and don’t call me -”
Her breath caught in her throat, as she realized - oh no -
All of a sudden, the crystal shards winked out.
Sarah stopped in her tracks. There was no light - she could not see her friends, and she could not see him.
“Ah …” The Goblin King’s voice slithered out of the dark. “You didn’t mean to say that, did you?” A pause, then, soft and dripping with malice: “Whoops.”
“No, Jareth -” She tore her hand free of his - I can’t see - and stepped in the opposite direction, heart hammering. “Jareth, if you do anything to them, I’ll -”
“You’ll what?” A derisive laugh. “Call up Higgle and those other mangy beasts of yours and tear down my castle a second time? If you could find it again, which I sincerely doubt, perhaps you would stroll through the gardens first?”
A rustle - was that his cloak? Sarah backed away further.
“The statuary is very fine - and my three most recent acquisitions will be particularly pretty things. A sylph, an elf, and what looks like a Selkie child - quite charming, if I say so myself.”
“You …” Sarah felt horror clutch her stomach. “You can’t do that.”
“Oh, I certainly can,” he crooned, gloating. “Not one of ten thousand calls me by my name, Sarah, for fear. They fear that if they know my true name, so I will know their true names, and I will call to them,” his voice dropped to a silken whisper, “call to them in the night, when there is no moon, or when the Hunt rides, or when we all dance at Midsummer’s Eve …”
Another faint sound, and then his voice was closer, still whispering, “Your Gwen, and Sylvie, and Diana - fair ladies three … I will call to them, and they will find their way to me, and no one who loves them will ever see them again …”
Sarah angrily dashed her hand over her eyes. My fault. My stupid fault -
The voice paused. “But you would not have it so?”
“No!” she shouted; her voice echoed through the blackness of the ballroom. “Of course not! What kind of person do you think I am?!”
Another pause. “A powerful one, obviously. The fear in your friends’ faces - some was for me, but a good deal of it, at the end, was for you. To speak so casually to the Child Stealer. To invite him to dance - tsk.”
“I told you,” Sarah gritted her teeth, “I had no idea that you were such an awful person, your Majesty.”
“Well, I am not a person, per se - but I suppose I am rather awful.”
For a long moment, Sarah heard nothing but the blood thumping in her ears - but then she heard a faint pop, and a hiss. She smelled a strange scent as soon as she saw a magical light glimmer, then begin to glow.
The magic spilled over his gloves, and to the floor, illuminating the Goblin King as he gazed at her. Jareth’s face was stark, inhuman - a study in light and shadow. Darkness licked between the feathers of his cloak, and caught at the three crystals that he was lazily passing between his hands.
He must have heard her stop breathing, for a smile tugged at the edges of his mouth, and he flicked his eyes down to the crystals. “Awful, and terrible, and a poorly behaved party guest. Some days, I am ashamed of myself.”
Jareth was quiet for a moment. Then her skin prickled at the sound of his laugh, as soft and sly as his voice. “But most days I try to turn such lamentable truths to my advantage.”
Sarah tried to swallow. “Really.”
“Yes.” He turned his head to the side - crystal light crackled along the edge of his jaw. “For I am awful, and terrible, the Goblin King, the Child Stealer, the Taker of Souls … but, Sarah, you still don’t seem to be afraid of me.”
It was hard to speak. “I think I’m getting there.”
“Well, no, for you see, your heart is hammering at such a wild pace for your friends’ sake. Were we the only two concerned, I daresay you would be mildly exasperated, and nothing more.”
Sarah inhaled. “Then make it just you and me. Whatever issues,” she stumbled, “whatever’s going on in that twisted mind of yours, between us - leave my friends out of it. They were just here for a party. They’ve - they’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Is that so?” Jareth spun the crystals round and round, loop after loop after loop, until Sarah felt dizzy. “Let me ask you, then …”
And one of the crystals stopped. He was holding it still - holding it out to her …
The memory flared to life: Fear me, love me … Sarah looked from the crystal to his face.
“What are your friends worth to you, Sarah?”
His expression made her blood go cold. “What?”
“Your friends.” He twirled the crystal in his fingers. “What will you give me for them?” Jareth watched the orb go back and forth, from his palm to the back of his glove, back and forth, and he smiled at his own skill. “After all, they would make such a pretty set. ‘The Three Graces,’ perhaps, or ‘The Three Who Really Should Have Known Better,’ or -”
“Stop it,” she whispered.
The Goblin King looked at her, eyes glinting beneath their lids. The crystal kept spinning; its fellows lay dormant in his other hand. “Why?”
“Because,” Sarah swallowed, “because I -”
Jareth waited. His gaze flickered, as she took a careful step forward - and then his eyes tracked her every move, as she closed the remaining space between them.
“Because you … what?” His voice, low as it was, mocked her.
“Because I asked you to.” She paused. “Please.”
Jareth’s eyes widened, and he began to sneer -
- but before he could retort, Sarah kissed him.
She felt him inhale sharply, through his nose, even as he went completely still. Wait - what’s wrong? What did I do?
She stepped closer, just a bit, but he did not move. She touched his hand, where he still gripped the crystal tightly - and he didn’t move. Sarah reached out questing fingers to the feathers of his cloak, and then jerked her hand back when she felt the snap of something like static electricity.
He still hadn’t moved. It was like kissing a statue.
Why isn’t he doing something? Sarah decided to give up. She broke the kiss and stepped away, clenching her teeth so they wouldn’t chatter. Her lips were tingling, but if he wasn’t even interested enough to kiss back -
“There,” she gritted out, staring at the floor and crossing her arms over her chest. “Is that good enough for you?”
Silence.
Sarah waited, then darted a glance up at his face. The Goblin King looked - and she frowned. Confused? Surprised? Not even those - more like … dazed? Although really, he didn’t seem the type …
He let the crystal in his left hand drop. Sarah winced, but the expected shatter did not occur; a flurry of iridescent dust floated away instead.
Jareth touched his fingers to his lips, still looking shell-shocked.
“Um,” she started. “Jareth?”
No response.
“Jareth? Say something.”
He was staring at the floor, just like she had been. “You kissed me.”
No shit, Sherlock. “For one of my friends, yes. But mostly because I wanted you to shut up.”
He hardly seemed to hear her, muttering, instead, as he stared, “I had thought - your firstborn child, or your vow never to return, your tears or your heartbreak or the heart of your first true love, but - you kissed me.”
The words made her skin crawl, as she pieced together their meaning, but she stood her ground. “Yeah,” and damn it, her mouth still had the ghost-imprint of his on it, tingling with something she had never tasted. She tentatively licked at her lower lip, and almost jumped as she saw his eyes pin her in place.
“You’re not afraid of me,” he rasped.
Sarah pressed her lips into a line, and shook her head.
“No, of course not,” he whispered, still staring, and then ran his tongue over the tips of his teeth. She swallowed hard. Jareth saw it, and his eyes gleamed. “A kiss for your friend - three kisses,” he said, his voice suddenly thick, “for your three friends.”
********
... to be continued ...