*croak*
Well, a-well - that's all, for Teh Singing. *clears throat* *coughs* ... I maintain that one service's worth of incense, at this gig, is just about on the level of smoking two packs, unfiltered. :)
This isn't my group, obviously, but here's one of the works we sang last night and this morning:
Dum Transisset Sabbatum by John Taverner (1490-1545), sung above by the Tallis Scholars.
Not sure how much I like Teh Montage-ing ... it undercuts the effect of the music that the youtuber actually picked up on; a culmination in the final "alleluya". That music, though ... If I were a cat, I'd be purring.
The week lies before me - LE SIGH. I do not want it to begin. So, in the spirit of sinful indulgence (I should be reading essays), here is "Shards of a Dream" - part 2.
Part 2
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.”
Sarah blinked, and like that, he was standing right in front of her - too close - she gulped, and backed up a few steps. His eyes burned into hers, and she saw the feathers of his cloak move with his quickening breath. “Three.”
“Two,” she squeaked.
The Goblin King’s eyes narrowed. “That first one didn’t count.”
“Oh, yes it did.”
“How was I supposed to know -” he flung out his arms, only just keeping hold of the crystals in his right hand; his cloak flared out in a grey and white arc. “How was I supposed to know what you would do? No one kisses me - no one -”
Jareth stopped short, and glowered at her. “Three.”
“No.” Sarah raised her chin. “You get two more - but,” she hurried on, as his look turned savage, “you could try making them last longer.”
He stared at her, for another long moment, and then brought his right hand up, in a jerky motion. The crystals were shining with an almost painful light. Jareth looked at them, then back at her.
“Take these.”
Sarah was too surprised to protest as he dropped the crystals into her hands. Almost immediately, her wrists sent up a twinge - the orbs were heavier than any bauble had any right to be, and they were so cold that they burned. Wait - were they actually cold? Or hot? Or something different, something -
“Magic,” she whispered, feeling her hands go numb.
“Yes.” Jareth’s voice was rough. Sarah blinked, focusing back on him; and she swallowed, as she saw that he was removing his gloves. His hands were shaking - that’s why it’s taking so long - and he caught her look of surprise, and glared.
“Take these, too,” he ordered, holding out the gloves.
“I’m not your butler,” she snapped.
The Goblin King’s eyes flashed, and his lips drew back into a sneer, and then the crystal light flickering over those teeth set off an instinct she didn’t know she had. Oh god you’re prey get away get away -
Jareth must have seen her blanch, because his sneer curled into a grin. He whispered, “Won’t you please take them, Sarah?” while edging close, then closer, and she stumbled backwards, but shit - she hit a pillar, and that was it, because he had crowded into her personal space. “Please, do me this tiny favor?”
“It’s just,” she choked, “I don’t have a free hand.” And she held up the crystals.
“Ah, of course. Then permit me this liberty …” And his hands slipped behind her, brushing her arms - his hands are warm, her mind reported, stupid with surprise - and he must have pulled out at least three crossings of the silver laces, because her bodice sagged in front before she gasped out, “Hey, wait.”
He slid his hands back to the front of her dress, then trailed them over the green satin, just grazing her décolletage. “Yes?”
“What, exactly, are you doing?”
“This.” His eyes held hers as he smiled, so that she almost didn’t notice his long fingers carefully tucking his gloves down her bodice. “Keep those warm for me, would you?”
“Sure,” and her voice squeaked again, damn it. Sarah cleared her throat. “But only if you do something about these.” She held up the crystals. “They’re making my hands hurt.”
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I would not harm you for the world ...” Jareth moved his fingers over her shoulders, down her arms, over the tracery of vein and tendon, and then slipped them round the crystals.
It was the sensation of blood surging back to her fingertips that was making her gasp for breath, she told herself; nothing more. “But my friends.” Sarah gulped. “You’d harm my friends -”
“Never.”
She heard a clink; he had carefully placed a crystal on the floor. The other he kept in his right hand. Its glimmer lit his face - so close - and overwhelmed her once more with that roaring rush of other and not human and my god what is he?
I’m not afraid, Sarah told herself, fiercely. “The way you were talking before, Jareth. Turning them into statues, and keeping them prisoner, and - oh -”
The words caught in her throat as he cupped her face with his free hand. “Never,” he breathed. “I will never harm them, for you kissed me for their sake - Sarah -” The Goblin King’s eyes burned, feverish. “Let me - will you -”
She watched, astonished, as he closed his eyes - and then she had to close her own as he tipped her face to meet his, and kissed her.
It was a matter of seconds before she was clinging to him, desperately. Sarah heard a faint pleading sound - oh, that was me - and her mind tried, and failed, to deal with the onslaught from her senses - the press of his lips and the warm flick of his tongue and then the liquid heat of his mouth, the rasp of each breath in his throat and chest, and - oh - his hand sliding from her jaw down to her bare shoulder and then down her arm - she gasped at the sensation of his fingers digging into her skin, because he had grabbed her wrist - wait, what the hell -
The Goblin King brought his hands together, with the one of hers pressed between them - pressed between them and the crystal, because he was still holding it. But then he began to murmur something into her mouth; she felt the pulse of his words over her tongue, even as he twined his fingers together …
A shock of heat, spiking into her hand, made her yelp and yank her head backwards. She felt her skull hit the pillar with a thunk, but even that could not distract from the light pulsing between them. Sarah knew her eyes were huge - she looked up at Jareth, anyway.
She shivered, despite herself, as he stared back at her, one pupil pinprick-small in the blaze of light, and the other fixed.
One corner of his mouth tugged up. Jareth lifted her hand, twined with both of his, to the level of her eyes. He tilted his head, and she could practically hear the memory of him murmuring, coy, It’s a crystal, nothing more … but the crystal had vanished, and her fingers were practically glowing in the dark. Sarah stared at him in consternation. His smile deepened, and he brought her hand to his lips, and kissed it.
OK, she thought, fuzzily. Now might be a good time to stop.
“That’s three,” she mumbled, “- three kisses.” Sarah tried to pull her hand away. “You only get three. Show’s over.”
Then the Goblin King flicked his tongue over her knuckles, and her stomach lurched. “No …” he whispered. “You did say that I could try to make them last longer.”
“Yes, but I didn’t -”
“You didn’t mean it?” and he laughed, breathlessly. No, Sarah fought for words, and that’s not what I was going to say, but Jareth had caught at her waist with both hands, leaving her own to fall against his chest. “Kiss me again.”
“But you only get -”
“Sarah,” and her name vibrated against her skin, where he had shoved his face into the crook of her neck, breathing hard. “Let me kiss you - I - please -”
It was the please that did it. Sarah slung an arm around his neck and fisted her hands in his cloak. Something crackled through her fingers; she whimpered at the shock, but only until he dragged his lips away from her skin and found her mouth.
Oh ... Sarah only dimly registered his hands clutching her back, fingers pulling at her dress and then digging into her skin, as she threw herself into the kiss. She felt the click of their teeth before she tilted her head at a better angle to thrust her tongue into his mouth, harder and deeper; he growled as she pressed closer, clinging to him, and the kiss somehow turned even more ferocious. I can’t even think - this is a dream. Her mind refused to work, except to realize that this was a dream, it had to be a dream, because nothing in reality could ever equal this, no matter what Gwen said …
Gwen …
Oh shit I almost forgot -
Sarah broke the kiss and leaned her head against the pillar again, sucking in air. “Jareth.” Her voice was thick; thinking felt like wading through molasses. She ran her hands across his shoulders as he bent his head to the swell of her breasts; Sarah shivered as he kissed her there. She twisted her fingers into his hair and tugged. “Jareth.”
“Yes?”
Sarah almost laughed, despite herself, because he sounded drunk. “Could you just - give me a minute, please?” She released his hair and let one leg fall from where it had twined around him. How did that happen? “I need to - think. About something.”
For a long moment he stayed where he was, but then he murmured, “Very well,” and stepped back. Sarah blinked. She had half expected to have to struggle, and plead, but there he was, a good arm’s-length away, running one hand through his pale hair and looking disoriented.
It was too good to be true, of course. She swore as she straightened, and her dress began to fall off. “You - did you get all of the laces?”
He wasn’t too disoriented to smirk. “I’m afraid so.”
“Great,” Sarah fumed. “Well, since you untied them, you can retie them.” She held her dress together by making a fist in the material behind her back, with her left hand, not her right. Her right hand throbbed, strangely. “It took Diana forever, so I’m sure as hell not doing it.”
Jareth had flicked her a glance, at her friend’s name; his eyes widened as he caught her glare. “And don’t think that I’ve forgotten, Goblin King. You’ve had your three kisses, so now you have to put things back the way they were.”
“Are you sure, Sarah?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“Because,” and he caught a fall of his cloak in one hand, and ran his fingers through the feathers, “in the first place, I believe I only had two kisses. In the second place, and if I remember correctly, your friends were standing frozen in fear.” The Goblin King’s voice was low. “You were on a surprisingly intimate footing with the Child Stealer before, and now … Now, they will have all the more reason to fear you …”
“Wait,” Sarah began, but he spoke over her.
“Can you imagine the reaction?” Jareth laughed, and turned on one heel. He caught sight of the last crystal on the ground and snatched it up; its light threw the planes and angles of his face into harsh relief. “The news spreading like a fire, and your friends in the thick of it: the Goblin King has a Queen, the Child Stealer has a partner in crime -” his eyes blazed, “the Taker of Souls has a mate.” Jareth tossed the crystal high, and caught it again, laughing. “Can you imagine?”
Queen - partner - mate - Her mind refused to process the words. “Jareth,” Sarah said, slowly, carefully, “I - I think you’re assuming that I -”
“- will stay.” The Goblin King nodded. He looked almost insane; Sarah recoiled. “You will stay with me - you know me, you know what I am, and yet you kissed me. You embraced me. You held me close to you … Ah, Sarah …” He stared, then smiled, and the sight made her blood freeze. “I had banished even the thought of love from my world -”
“No,” she choked out, in a high-pitched voice.
“- but Sarah, my Sarah, with you I will lack for nothing, and I will give you everything …” He slowed, catching sight of her expression, and his brow creased. “What is it?”
She was dimly aware of the fact that she was trembling, but all of her being was focused on the terrible light in his eyes, willing him to understand her words. “Jareth …” she whispered. “I - I want to go home. I want to go back with my friends.”
“You do, do you?” He grinned at her, his teeth showing jagged and sharp. “Then you should not have taken my ring.”
Ring? Sarah fixed on the memory; his pressing the crystal against her palm and squeezing with both his hands until the heat turned into a sharp agonizing point - She held her right hand up to the light and stared, her heart pounding.
“Explain to me,” she said, keeping her voice calm. “I see what looks like a third-degree burn, but I don’t see a ring.”
Jareth stared at her hand, then strode over to her and grabbed it. The pain made tears spring to her eyes. He looked at her palm, then twisted her wrist to look at the backs of her fingers. Then he snarled something vicious, but the language was none she could understand, even if she were trying to grasp it, rather than trying to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Too late, Sarah thought, as he pressed his thumb into the burn; she sucked in a breath and let her chin drop to her chest.
“It didn’t work,” Jareth spat. “All of a piece - the glamour, the geas, the spell of binding, all of it failing.”
“No power over me,” Sarah offered, weakly, and felt rather than saw him turn.
“Wait …” the Goblin King growled. Then he placed a finger and thumb on her chin, and tilted her face up - only to gaze into her eyes, his own frowning. “Why -”
Sarah felt a tear fall. Jareth blinked. “Why do you weep?”
“Are you kidding?” Her voice cracked. “You hurt me, you bastard!”
A look of consternation spread over his face. “How can this hurt you? You have power, Sarah, a very great power - how can this -”
“I don’t know,” she gulped. “But it does.”
Jareth raised an eyebrow. “Well, you were the one to resist the magic.” He leaned in, and gently kissed away the tear; she felt her stomach churn. “And all you need is some moss from the oldest tree in the Labyrinth, and it will heal itself in no time at all.”
Sarah tried not to hyperventilate. Her head throbbed in time with her hand. “Jareth, I am not staying with you.”
“But you are, Sarah.” His voice was as soft as silk. “My Sarah … you knew. You knew who I was - you knew what I was, and yet you kissed me.” She stared into his eyes, mismatched, glittering with magic, gazing back into her own ... “You knew my true name, and yet you kissed me. Sarah … you have my name, and I have yours …” He kissed her cheek again, and whispered, in her ear, “You cannot have thought that I would ever let you go …”
Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. I won’t break down, I won’t give him the satisfaction. But he wouldn’t be satisfied, just puzzled by the fact that she wasn’t jumping for joy at the prospect of being kidnapped and imprisoned and - her mind stuttered with the memory of the kiss - I won’t let this happen. Besides, he -
Oh.
“Jareth,” she croaked. “You’re forgetting something important.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.” Sarah pushed him away. He frowned at her, as she raised her burned hand to wipe the tears from her face. “You have no power over me - so your spells won’t work. You made the rest of this party disappear,” she tipped her chin at the surrounding darkness, “but you can’t move me anywhere.”
The crystal he was holding flickered; she just barely glimpsed his jaw tightening. She continued. “I’m not going to the Labyrinth with you, and unless you return me to my friends, I’m just going to stay here.”
“Forever?” he asked, his upper lip curling.
“Not long at all. Just until I go crazy.” I think I’m well on the way already. “Or die of thirst.”
Jareth’s voice was rough. “I would bring you water.”
“Well, I wouldn’t drink it. And my will is as strong as yours, remember.”
He was silent.
Sarah scrubbed at her eyes again, wincing at the pain in her hand. “And - and would you want that? If you - love me,” she stammered the words, “would you want me to suffer and die?” It hurt too much to continue with her right hand, so she brought her left out from behind her back, to tuck her tangled hair behind her ears. She heard a rustle, and shivered, because it was suddenly cold. “Is that what you think love is?”
Jareth was still silent - but it was different, somehow - oh. The rasp of his breathing had stopped.
Sarah blinked, and looked at him.
He was staring at her. And his eyes were glittering with … she gulped. Desire, hunger … greed? What was the right way of - oh - she shuddered. Why is it so cold?
And then she realized why. And why the Goblin King wasn’t staring at her face, anymore.
Sarah scrambled to pull her dress back up, even as she felt her face turn scarlet. Her right hand throbbed, and her left fumbled with the slippery satin. Both were shaking so much that she lost the tenuous grip she had and the material slid down further.
Choking back a cry, she dropped to her knees and scrabbled for the dress. A silver ornament fell from its braid, and with a flash of inspiration, she bent her head so that a fall of dark brown hair covered her breasts. With her eyes lowered, and as she caught at the fabric with her good hand, she could not see him at all. But -
Sarah froze where she crouched, her pulse thumping in her ears. She could hardly hear his footsteps - he was treading softly, as a great cat might when stalking its prey … She squeezed her eyes shut, hunching her shoulders, but there was no way to miss the sensation of his feathered cloak drifting against her skin.
“Well now,” and his voice was like velvet. “What have we here?”
She winced in anticipation, and then shivered at the sensation of his hand drifting over her hair.
“Does this seem familiar to you, Sarah? Because it seems to me as though we’re retracing our steps - with, of course, one enticing variation …” He traced a finger through her hair, parting it, and brushed along the line of her neck.
Then he laid his bare palm on her back, in a gentle caress.
Sarah flinched, and he laughed, quietly, his breath warm over her skin. “How lovely you are like this, my Sarah. And yet …” he mused. “And yet, there is something less pleasing about it …”
She swallowed. “And what might that be?”
“You are afraid of me, now, when you were not before.” The Goblin King drew his hand away, one finger at a time, and sighed. “Such a pity.”
It’s true. She clenched her jaw. He’s right. I am afraid.
He began walking around her, circling, as silent as an owl in flight, except for the smallest scrape of his footsteps. It was strangely intimate, in a fearful way, to know that he was devouring her with his gaze, but that her will was as strong as his, her kingdom as great, and that -
You have no power over me, she thought, and suddenly, and with frightening clarity, she saw a way of escape.
“Well,” she said in a level voice; the footsteps stopped. “Maybe I was … hesitating, for a moment.”
“Hesitating?” Jareth drawled.
“Yes.” Sarah fisted both hands in the dress, and pulled it back up to cover herself. Then she straightened her shoulders, and raised her head high, to stare at him as proudly as she could from the disadvantage of kneeling.
He was smiling that twisted half-smile, but she had seen the look burning in his eyes before the proud mask slammed into place. “Yes, hesitating. You see, I want to negotiate, and you’re not giving me much to start with.”
The Goblin King tossed the one remaining crystal back and forth between his hands. “I do see. Well, what have you to say?”
“May I get up, please?”
“No.” He smirked.
Sarah rolled her eyes; and caught the spark of feral delight that flashed in his. “Fine. Goblin King, I wish to negotiate the terms of my return to my friends, and to my world.”
“No,” he murmured, staring into the crystal. “I want you to stay with me.”
“I know that, but you also want me alive, don’t you?” At his grimace, she continued. “Alive, and healthy, if not happy, and willing to do -”
Sarah paused. Watching her narrowly, Jareth raised an eyebrow. “‘Willing to do’ … what?”
Here goes nothing. She returned his stare, for a long moment. Then she caught at her hair with her good hand and combed it forward, making sure that he could see the back of her neck, vulnerable and pale. “Depends,” she murmured, turning her head to the side and staring down. Pretend to be afraid. Just a bit. Just a tiny bit - not too much. “What do you want?” Look at me, Child Stealer, I’m all alone and afraid. Take the bait.
“Besides you with me, forever?” He laughed, softly; she stiffened, despite herself. “I might have to consider it further.”
“Do you want your gloves back?” She made her own voice low. “We could start with that.”
The grey scraps of silk had fallen down the front of her dress in the confusion. Sarah steeled herself, then looked up at Jareth, smiled deliberately, and slid the heavy satin up her legs. She plucked the gloves from where they had ended up, pressed together between her thighs.
Then she flicked her gaze back to him - he was staring at her, his eyes wide and his nostrils flared.
“Well?” Sarah held the gloves out to the Goblin King.
Jareth’s eyes held hers, as he stepped forward and took the gloves with his free hand, his fingers lingering. Sarah could only watch, pulse thumping in her ears, as he brought the silk to his lips, and then - oh god - casually sniffed. Her face burned. He had better not be able to - oh the unmitigated bastard. For he smiled at her in return, knowingly, and tucked the gloves away somewhere within his cloak.
That doesn’t change anything, Sarah told herself, fiercely. “So,” she said. Her voice sounded brittle, and his smile widened. “That was a good-faith offer. Now you have to hear my terms.”
“With pleasure.” Jareth cupped the crystal in both hands, and inclined his head.
“OK. First, I want you to reorder time. I don’t want anybody to know about our - connection, including my friends. I want them to forget, you understand?” He said nothing; she soldiered on. “And I want you to promise me that you’ll leave them alone. Forever.”
The Goblin King heard her out. Then he arched his eyebrows. “That’s all?”
Sarah stumbled over the words, in her haste. “And I want to go back to them, and return to my world, without fearing that you’ll try and kidnap me. You have no power over me, remember? But -” and she looked around the gloom of the spell, and didn’t need to pretend nervousness. “I don’t have a way of getting out of here. At least, not yet.”
“I see.” He glanced at the crystal. “And what do you offer me in return?”
She held the dress closer. “That third kiss that you wanted.”
Jareth’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s all?”
“Yes. And I gave you back your gloves.”
A cold laugh. “How absurd. You ask me to sacrifice you forever, and for a kiss - really, Sarah, perhaps I have become spoiled after two in the last half hour … but I do not see how this is a fair exchange.”
She closed her eyes, tiredly. “Who said anything about sacrificing me forever?”
The Goblin King was silent.
“Really,” and she swallowed. “That seems to be a problem with all you epic evil types. You threaten me, and hurt me, and do your best to bully me into giving you what you want - but did it ever occur to you just to ask?”
Sarah opened her eyes again, only to see him gazing at her as though he had never seen her before. “Ask?” and his voice sounded like it had when she had first kissed him - confused. Disbelieving.
“Yes, ask.”
“Will you come back to the Labyrinth?”
“No.”
“Will you be my Queen?”
“No!”
Jareth hissed. “You tell me to ask, but it appears futile, Sarah.”
“Look, Jareth …” Sarah bit her lip. “I just came here to go to party, for Valentine’s Day. I’m twenty-two years old, and I - I just found my own apartment.” She made her voice soft, and pleading. “I’ve only just started to have my own life, really … so I don’t want to be a queen of anything. Not yet.”
Jareth had been frowning, but at her last words, his eyes flashed. “‘Not yet,’” he echoed. “How interesting. Do you mean to imply that someday … some fine day in the future, you might wish to be a queen?”
“Maybe.”
“My queen?”
Sarah’s skin crawled. “Maybe?”
His lips curled. “I’m still not convinced.”
“I just need time, Jareth,” she quavered, tilting her head down. Sarah adjusted her grip on her dress and pretended not to notice a fold of it slipping. Take the bait. Take the bait. She heard him exhale between his teeth - the hiss of it slithered over her skin, and she didn’t have to fake the trembling of her hands as she clutched the satin closer again. Take the bait - Get all hot and bothered, and make a stupid mistake, damn you. “Besides …” and inspiration hit, thank god. “You’re asking the wrong questions.”
“And what are the right ones?”
“Smaller-scale.” She paused. “Like, ‘What are you doing tomorrow night?’”
“Tomorrow …” Jareth mused. “Tomorrow, the day of the moon.”
“Yeah.”
“Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement.”
“That’s not what I - Jareth,” she snapped, as he grinned; was he teasing her? The lunacy of it made her light-headed; her freedom on the line, and he was willfully misinterpreting her words. “Ask me for another day.”
“Odin’s day,” he returned, suddenly serious. His grip on the crystal tightened. “What are you doing in the evening?”
Odin’s day? Sarah blinked, and her mind translated, Wednesday. “Um.” She swallowed. Stall. “I think I’m busy.”
“Odin’s day next, then? I may call on you? In the world over the Underground, at a place of your choosing?”
Now or never. Do it. “Sure.” Sarah forced a smile. “So you see, you can come say hello next week Wednesday, and we can take it from there. One step at a time.”
The Goblin King looked younger, somehow, despite the shark teeth glinting in his broad grin. “And for that, and a kiss, I return you to your friends, and your happy little life, yes?”
Mutely, Sarah nodded. Please, oh please …
“So be it.” Jareth tossed the crystal in the air, laughing, and caught it.
A rush of relief almost caused her physical pain. Sarah gasped, and brought her hand to her mouth, forgetting until she felt its throb that it was the one with the burn. She made sure the dress was drawn tight in her good hand, and then she clambered to her feet.
“Ah, I will forgive you that, my Sarah …” His voice was jovial, but she remembered ice, and I don’t recall saying that you could get up.
I’m not afraid of you, Goblin King, she thought, fiercely, but said instead, “Gee, thanks,” and smoothed out the crumpled satin of her bodice as best she could. “When can I leave?”
“So soon?”
Sarah looked around at the darkness, and shivered. “The sooner the better.”
“Very well,” he sighed, and she fought not to flinch as he drew close. “You see, Sarah …” and he tapped the crystal. She squinted, and saw figures dancing. “Here is the ball, and here,” he tapped the crystal again, “are your friends. When I cast the spell, time will be reordered, you will return, and none shall remember what has passed. Except you, of course.” Jareth smiled into her eyes. “Is this acceptable?”
She nodded.
“Perfect.” He twirled the crystal on his fingertips. “Then there is only the small matter of my kiss.”
“Right.” She leaned back against the pillar. “Only one, and only on the lips, and nothing more than a minute -”
“Ah, my Sarah …” Jareth’s smile widened. “The time to specify the nature of this kiss was surely during negotiations. Was it not?”
Sarah felt the blood drain from her face.
No wonder it was such an easy sell. No wonder he seems so happy. Well, if he thinks that I’m going to - her thoughts raced - that I’m going to … oh my god, take the bait, I said, and he did, he did -
“OK, your Majesty, let me explain something to you. Someone may think he loves someone else, but no amount of lust, or obsession, or sheer stupidity, will change the fact that a kiss is a kiss, and that a kiss doesn’t involve anything more than the lips. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” Jareth said over his shoulder, still smiling, as he set the orb down, off to the side. Then - and Sarah froze - he flicked various buttons open, pulled his shirt off from beneath the cloak, and let the fabric fall in a heap to mute the light.
Oh my god, this is bad, this is bad. It was darker, but - not as dark as it was before, her thoughts chanted, beginning to panic. Not as dark, but still dark enough, and what is he going to do?
She told her legs to move, but everything about her was frozen - except for her heartbeat, crashing in her ears.
“Well, well …” The Goblin King stopped in front of her, barely a foot away. “You wouldn’t be afraid again, would you, Sarah?
“You know what you look like, leaving feathers on, but no shirt?” she spat. “You look like some sort of - mascot. Like a deranged poultry enthusiast -”
Jareth stepped closer. “Or like poor Icarus, who fled the Labyrinth, but flew too high … Too close to the sun, and then he fell, and fell so far, who was so fair, that all wept to see him bleeding, dying there … Well. All except your Goblin King, of course.”
His breath was warm on her face; the heat from his body more pronounced than she remembered. Sarah clutched the dress closer, and bit her lip as he traced a finger over her shoulder, down her arm - then he touched her right hand, in the middle of the burn, and she hissed, “Stop that.”
“I’m so terribly sorry,” he murmured, not sounding sorry at all. She cursed him, mentally - but then her thoughts ground to a halt as he leaned forward, and gently kissed her hand.
“Jareth,” she started, hating the way her voice shook - but he cut in.
“You know better than to try and tell me that was my kiss, Sarah.” His voice was amused. “And do you know why I kept this cloak instead of the shirt?”
“No.”
And then he leaned close, and she felt his breath, hot, at her ear. “I’ve seen the way you look at it, and I felt your gasp when you touched it. It has power, Sarah, and so do you … and the two together …”
She waited, her skin crawling. Finally, “… the two together?” she repeated.
“Words fail me.” Jareth’s voice was rough. “Here …” He licked her ear - she flinched - and then he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, and pressed closer to her. Sarah dug the fingers of her left hand into the burn, where her hands were clenched together, just so she wouldn’t have to think about the hard length of him hot against her body, or about the way his skin seemed to set hers on fire, wherever they touched …
“You …” the Goblin King rasped, as he moved, slightly. “Sarah, I never -”
“Really? Great, a biology lesson. I said it before, and I’ll say it again - you kiss with your mouth, Jareth, and not with your -”
“That’s not quite what I meant.” He laughed against her skin. “But you’ll never bore me, my love.”
Sarah felt her stomach drop to her toes. “What do you mean?”
“What - that I find you charming, and fascinating, and scintillating, and -”
“No.” She gulped. “You said ‘my love.’”
Jareth paused.
She felt him smile against her ear, and then he moved to stare into her eyes. “So I did.”
Sarah couldn’t look away, with him this close. She saw his eyes gleam in the dark. “Ah, and now you are afraid …”
“Jareth, it’s just - it’s just that love … love is a big thing, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I traffic in pain and heartbreak, selfishness and mockery - but I know what is said about love ... after all,” he whispered, “similar things are said about fear.”
The Goblin King brushed a kiss over her brow. “Fear me …” He bent to her jaw; another kiss. “Love me …” He stooped to her collarbone. “Do as I say …”
And then he sank to his knees before her, fluid and graceful, and Sarah thought her heart would stop.
“Fear, and love, and obedience - they’re much the same, really.” His voice was muffled, against the satin crumpled over her stomach. “All a form of slavery.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak. She could only stare at his shock of hair, pale in the darkness, and then at the muted light from the crystal reflecting in his eyes, as he gazed up at her face.
“Well, my Sarah …” and she saw him tilt his head to one side. “May I kiss you?”
Sarah bit her lip until she tasted blood.
“So silent.” He traced her hips, through the fabric, and tapped his long fingers in a slow pattern. “I crave an answer, my Queen.”
I’m not - I - She tried, but couldn’t speak -
“Precious thing,” and his voice was a silken caress. “Let me kiss you …”
He took hold of the fabric of her dress, and tugged, slightly - just enough for Sarah to feel the pull, where she held the material in both hands. She gasped, and stiffened.
If she could see in the dark, she knew her knuckles would be white.
Jareth paused. “Surely you’re not afraid of me, precious thing? Kneeling as I am?”
“No,” she rasped.
She felt him rest his forehead against her body. “Then let go.”
“I - I don’t -” Sarah swallowed, hard. “I can’t -”
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Let go.”
She trembled, and she knew that he would feel it, damn it, her shaking like a leaf.
“Sarah … my love …” The Goblin King’s whisper was somehow dark, even in the blackness of the spell. “If you wish me to stop, at any point, command me, and I will obey.”
Her breath hitched.
“Now - let go.”
Sarah closed her eyes tight, and opened her hands; she felt the satin slither down her body as he pulled. He touched a long finger to one of her shins - she wasn’t sure which, she couldn’t think - oh my god oh my god I can’t really be doing this - but she lifted one foot, then the other, as he moved the dress away from where it caught around her ankles.
He kissed her belly, and flicked his tongue into her navel, and she almost jumped out her skin with the sensation, her eyes flying open - “Jareth,” she gasped, and she felt his teeth scrape over her heated flesh, as he traced his tongue lower, and lower. “Jareth - oh my god -”
A faint blue crackle of static marked the path of the satin as he tossed it to the side; it fell over the crystal, with his shirt, and the dim light vanished completely. So it was only the darkness, and her fingers knotted in his hair, and his hands and mouth and tongue on her, and kisses that made her arch her back, and gasp his name, the name that only she was brave enough to say -
************
“Jareth,” Sarah murmured. It was somehow quiet, after the noise of the High King’s reception -
“What?” Diana turned, her plucked eyebrows raised. “What did you say?”
Sarah felt a wave of vertigo; her knees wobbled, as she looked up and saw the Goblin King, coldly beautiful, gliding down the stairs at the end of the huge hall. Last in line, the place of power, and walking down the steps now - right now, she realized, and silence was rippling through the room, spreading, as he fixed the crowd with a haughty stare.
“Oh -” Sarah said.
“What is it?” Sylvie was pulling at her sleeve.
“Up there,” Sarah gestured, feebly. She didn’t need to pretend to feel faint; her head was swimming. “There’s something - something’s not right ...”
Gwen had turned to listen, and Diana was talking to her urgently, pointing. The blonde looked, frowning, and then gasped, “Oh bloody hell - quick, everyone,” she grabbed Sarah’s arm, “get her out of here.”
“But what is it?” Sylvie asked, and, “She’s new, from Above,” Gwen replied, terse. “They say he can smell ‘em.” To Diana’s unheard question, she hissed, “The Goblin King, idiot, he’s here - get her out.”
“Quick - the side room!” “Yeah -” “Watch the dress, watch the dress,” and before Sarah knew it, her friends had closed ranks and bundled her out of the main hall. A door slammed shut, and she was deposited on a divan.
“Ouf,” chirped Sylvie, “that was close.”
“Too close.” Gwen leaned against the door. “How the bloody hell does he come to be here, anyway? Da says he never gets invited.”
“Who?” Sarah croaked, and, “Well, if my aunt is right, then the story goes -” Diana began, and Sarah could tune her out.
She bit her lip, and regretted it immediately, because it was - sore? Sarah blinked. Her lips felt chapped, and cracked in places; her legs felt like rubber, and - and there was a nasty burn on her right hand.
She stared at her reflection, in the mirror opposite the divan. At least her dress was laced again - But why would it have been unlaced?
Someone knocked on the door.
Her friends wheeled, and faced it, Gwen jumping away as though she had been scalded. “Who is it?”
“Could I have a word?” came a familiar voice -
- and that voice was all she needed, for the memories to come flooding back. Sarah stared into the mirror. Her hand hurt because he cast a spell on me, or tried to; her lips were chapped because I kissed him, again and again, and her legs felt weak because I stayed standing up, while he was - oh - her face burned. Standing up, or trying to, until he coiled the fingers of one hand into her upper leg, on one side and urged her to edge it up further, whispering, and then he placed a shoulder beneath her thigh and held her until she balanced and did it to the other and oh my god. Her back felt as though something had rubbed it raw. The pillar had, she thought, and what was he saying now, because something told her it might be important.
Gwen had arranged the other two in front of the divan, and stood between them. She was replying in a monotone to the Goblin King’s low and honeyed words. Sarah saw Sylvie’s hands, knotted behind her back, and trembling. There was something said about the ball, and the dancing; they each turned him down flat without him even asking, which made Sarah press back a giggle that was half hysteria. But then he said, “Before I take my leave of you, I believe one of you dropped something.”
“A glove. How nice.” Gwen didn’t pretend to sound anything but hostile. “But, sorry, I don’t think it belongs to anyone here -”
“Truly?” It sounded as though he was grinning; Sarah sneaked a peek in the mirror, which reflected almost all of the room - and yes, he was. The Goblin King looked distorted, in the glass - but the overall effect on her was as though someone had gripped her insides in a red-hot fist, and squeezed. Sarah closed her eyes, and pressed her legs together, tightly. “You see - and pardon me for being, ah, indelicate, Lady …?”
“Bronwen, of Forest Green.” The rustle of a curtsy. “And these are my companions, Achren and Morwen, of Longsword Keep.” More rustling cloth, and, “There now. Was that so difficult? How do you do,” Jareth murmured, politely. “Lady Bronwen, to be frank, this glove’s scent matches someone’s in this room - someone who might just be behind you, as you can see - right - there?” He indicated the mirror with his chin.
“Ah, yes.” Gwen stepped away, and fixed Sarah with an urgent stare. “This is, uh, Lady -”
Sarah blinked at her, and flailed, mentally, until she came up with, “Lady Krystal-Lee. Of, um, the Metropolitan Museum of Art - Park.”
“Indeed.” Jareth’s mouth twitched. “Are you newly arrived Underground, my lady Christalë?”
“That’s really none of your business,” Diana snapped.
“Ah. And your family are all well, lady - brothers, sisters?”
Gwen cut in. “She doesn’t have any.”
“Hm.” Jareth glanced back and forth at the others, who refused to look at him, and then he shrugged, and bowed. “Lady Christalë, I believe this belongs to you.”
He held out the grey silk glove - his own. Sarah stared at it, heavily. Her scent. She blushed, and sweat began to bead on her forehead. Jareth saw it - she saw his eyes glitter, and then his tongue darted out over his upper lip, and good, because she wasn’t the only person hot and bothered in the room.
Then she saw her friends; the fear on their faces - and Gwen making a minute motion with her head, side-to-side: No.
“I’ve never seen that glove before.” She set her jaw, and looked away from him. “You have the wrong person.”
“Oh, I think I very much have the right person … my lady …” and with his husky voice, she remembered his words whispering hot over her flesh as he licked her - god -
Sarah swallowed, and glanced around. Nobody else was looking at the Goblin King, or at her, for that matter - so she glared up at him. Bite me, she mouthed, but I have, he mouthed back, and tapped his upper thigh.
And, that explained the sore spot there. Shit. She shoo-ed him away, with a flicking gesture; his eyes flared. “You will not accept this small favor, Lady Christalë, as a welcome to the Underground?”
“No, she won’t,” Sylvie said, suddenly, in a fierce voice.
Jareth paused. Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah saw him looking round the group of her friends. As though he were taking their measure …
“No,” she agreed, clearing her throat. “Thank you, but I have sufficient favors already.”
She carefully smoothed down her dress, and folded her hands, avoiding his gaze. But there was no way of avoiding the quiet sound of the feathers of his cape; rustling as he drew it close. Something tickled - Sarah bit her lip, and darted a glance down - and saw that a small white feather had fallen onto her bodice. Shit - she grabbed at it, to keep it hidden.
Jareth’s voice was quiet. “Then I will bid you farewell. And I might say to all of you, though, that Lady Christalë has an excellent taste …”
Sarah felt her face flush, and could hear his grin, as he finished: “In friends.”
Oh, I am going to murder him for that, she thought, furiously, next week on Wednesday. Her heart pounded. Oh my god, next Wednesday - that’s only ten days away.
She hardly heard the Goblin King leave; it was only a bit later, though, that Gwen hurried back with a jar. “The bastard, trying to slip you a favor, and you not a day Underground! Wait til my Da hears about it. And you wouldn’t believe what he said to me, leaving,” she fumed. “That someone had tried to hook you with a binding spell, and you obviously didn’t know it. Here,” and she drew out the stopper, and smeared a dollop of cream onto Sarah’s right hand. “Does that hurt?”
It did - a strange sting - and Sarah said so. “Son of a bitch, that’s a powerful glamour,” Gwen breathed. “I can’t see a thing. Sarah,” and her voice was urgent, “did you eat or drink anything since you came here? Did you take anything, from anyone?”
“No.” Sarah was only half listening; it was great, to watch the burn bubble and heal in real time.
Sylvie and Diana were defending themselves from Gwen’s charges of negligence; Sarah let them fight it out for another moment, and then said, “Guys, whatever happened - it’s OK now.” She wiggled her fingers. “Nothing hurts anymore.” The burn was completely gone.
“But we were just -”
“Looking out for me, I know. That’s what friends are for.” Even as she spoke, in a cheerful voice, something in Sarah’s heart twisted. For all her bravado, she suddenly felt as though she might cry. He had just been here, but only just before that he had had her moaning, gasping, crying out his name … Sarah shuddered. It had all turned out all right, though, hadn’t it? Wednesday, she thought. I have until next Wednesday night - I’ll figure out something, to get him off my back -
Her mind promptly supplied her with an image of the Goblin King on her back. Sarah sucked in a breath. “Come on.” She got up from the divan, and strode to the door. “I want to see the rest of this party.” Anything for a distraction.
“Great - let’s go,” Diana bounced up off her chair, and Sylvie flitted behind her. Gwen closed the jar of ointment, set it down by the divan, and followed, frowning.
“Listen, Sarah,” she began.
“It’s all right - come on,” Sarah coaxed. “Out we go.” She urged her friends ahead of her. “I got your backs.”
In more ways than one, she thought - because she would walk out that door, and if Jareth looked for her again, he would see her in the place of power. I’ll protect them. And he could do nothing to touch them, because she had paid for it already - and even if he whispered Sarah or precious thing … or my love from across the room, she could easily pretend that his voice was one of hundreds, that no one had ever knelt to the Goblin Queen, and that no one ever would again.
The End
I might still change that ending, actually - there's one tiny twist that I'd like to include ... but if you think it hangs well as is, lemme know.
This isn't my group, obviously, but here's one of the works we sang last night and this morning:
Click to viewDum Transisset Sabbatum by John Taverner (1490-1545), sung above by the Tallis Scholars.
Not sure how much I like Teh Montage-ing ... it undercuts the effect of the music that the youtuber actually picked up on; a culmination in the final "alleluya". That music, though ... If I were a cat, I'd be purring.
The week lies before me - LE SIGH. I do not want it to begin. So, in the spirit of sinful indulgence (I should be reading essays), here is "Shards of a Dream" - part 2.
Part 2
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.”
Sarah blinked, and like that, he was standing right in front of her - too close - she gulped, and backed up a few steps. His eyes burned into hers, and she saw the feathers of his cloak move with his quickening breath. “Three.”
“Two,” she squeaked.
The Goblin King’s eyes narrowed. “That first one didn’t count.”
“Oh, yes it did.”
“How was I supposed to know -” he flung out his arms, only just keeping hold of the crystals in his right hand; his cloak flared out in a grey and white arc. “How was I supposed to know what you would do? No one kisses me - no one -”
Jareth stopped short, and glowered at her. “Three.”
“No.” Sarah raised her chin. “You get two more - but,” she hurried on, as his look turned savage, “you could try making them last longer.”
He stared at her, for another long moment, and then brought his right hand up, in a jerky motion. The crystals were shining with an almost painful light. Jareth looked at them, then back at her.
“Take these.”
Sarah was too surprised to protest as he dropped the crystals into her hands. Almost immediately, her wrists sent up a twinge - the orbs were heavier than any bauble had any right to be, and they were so cold that they burned. Wait - were they actually cold? Or hot? Or something different, something -
“Magic,” she whispered, feeling her hands go numb.
“Yes.” Jareth’s voice was rough. Sarah blinked, focusing back on him; and she swallowed, as she saw that he was removing his gloves. His hands were shaking - that’s why it’s taking so long - and he caught her look of surprise, and glared.
“Take these, too,” he ordered, holding out the gloves.
“I’m not your butler,” she snapped.
The Goblin King’s eyes flashed, and his lips drew back into a sneer, and then the crystal light flickering over those teeth set off an instinct she didn’t know she had. Oh god you’re prey get away get away -
Jareth must have seen her blanch, because his sneer curled into a grin. He whispered, “Won’t you please take them, Sarah?” while edging close, then closer, and she stumbled backwards, but shit - she hit a pillar, and that was it, because he had crowded into her personal space. “Please, do me this tiny favor?”
“It’s just,” she choked, “I don’t have a free hand.” And she held up the crystals.
“Ah, of course. Then permit me this liberty …” And his hands slipped behind her, brushing her arms - his hands are warm, her mind reported, stupid with surprise - and he must have pulled out at least three crossings of the silver laces, because her bodice sagged in front before she gasped out, “Hey, wait.”
He slid his hands back to the front of her dress, then trailed them over the green satin, just grazing her décolletage. “Yes?”
“What, exactly, are you doing?”
“This.” His eyes held hers as he smiled, so that she almost didn’t notice his long fingers carefully tucking his gloves down her bodice. “Keep those warm for me, would you?”
“Sure,” and her voice squeaked again, damn it. Sarah cleared her throat. “But only if you do something about these.” She held up the crystals. “They’re making my hands hurt.”
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I would not harm you for the world ...” Jareth moved his fingers over her shoulders, down her arms, over the tracery of vein and tendon, and then slipped them round the crystals.
It was the sensation of blood surging back to her fingertips that was making her gasp for breath, she told herself; nothing more. “But my friends.” Sarah gulped. “You’d harm my friends -”
“Never.”
She heard a clink; he had carefully placed a crystal on the floor. The other he kept in his right hand. Its glimmer lit his face - so close - and overwhelmed her once more with that roaring rush of other and not human and my god what is he?
I’m not afraid, Sarah told herself, fiercely. “The way you were talking before, Jareth. Turning them into statues, and keeping them prisoner, and - oh -”
The words caught in her throat as he cupped her face with his free hand. “Never,” he breathed. “I will never harm them, for you kissed me for their sake - Sarah -” The Goblin King’s eyes burned, feverish. “Let me - will you -”
She watched, astonished, as he closed his eyes - and then she had to close her own as he tipped her face to meet his, and kissed her.
It was a matter of seconds before she was clinging to him, desperately. Sarah heard a faint pleading sound - oh, that was me - and her mind tried, and failed, to deal with the onslaught from her senses - the press of his lips and the warm flick of his tongue and then the liquid heat of his mouth, the rasp of each breath in his throat and chest, and - oh - his hand sliding from her jaw down to her bare shoulder and then down her arm - she gasped at the sensation of his fingers digging into her skin, because he had grabbed her wrist - wait, what the hell -
The Goblin King brought his hands together, with the one of hers pressed between them - pressed between them and the crystal, because he was still holding it. But then he began to murmur something into her mouth; she felt the pulse of his words over her tongue, even as he twined his fingers together …
A shock of heat, spiking into her hand, made her yelp and yank her head backwards. She felt her skull hit the pillar with a thunk, but even that could not distract from the light pulsing between them. Sarah knew her eyes were huge - she looked up at Jareth, anyway.
She shivered, despite herself, as he stared back at her, one pupil pinprick-small in the blaze of light, and the other fixed.
One corner of his mouth tugged up. Jareth lifted her hand, twined with both of his, to the level of her eyes. He tilted his head, and she could practically hear the memory of him murmuring, coy, It’s a crystal, nothing more … but the crystal had vanished, and her fingers were practically glowing in the dark. Sarah stared at him in consternation. His smile deepened, and he brought her hand to his lips, and kissed it.
OK, she thought, fuzzily. Now might be a good time to stop.
“That’s three,” she mumbled, “- three kisses.” Sarah tried to pull her hand away. “You only get three. Show’s over.”
Then the Goblin King flicked his tongue over her knuckles, and her stomach lurched. “No …” he whispered. “You did say that I could try to make them last longer.”
“Yes, but I didn’t -”
“You didn’t mean it?” and he laughed, breathlessly. No, Sarah fought for words, and that’s not what I was going to say, but Jareth had caught at her waist with both hands, leaving her own to fall against his chest. “Kiss me again.”
“But you only get -”
“Sarah,” and her name vibrated against her skin, where he had shoved his face into the crook of her neck, breathing hard. “Let me kiss you - I - please -”
It was the please that did it. Sarah slung an arm around his neck and fisted her hands in his cloak. Something crackled through her fingers; she whimpered at the shock, but only until he dragged his lips away from her skin and found her mouth.
Oh ... Sarah only dimly registered his hands clutching her back, fingers pulling at her dress and then digging into her skin, as she threw herself into the kiss. She felt the click of their teeth before she tilted her head at a better angle to thrust her tongue into his mouth, harder and deeper; he growled as she pressed closer, clinging to him, and the kiss somehow turned even more ferocious. I can’t even think - this is a dream. Her mind refused to work, except to realize that this was a dream, it had to be a dream, because nothing in reality could ever equal this, no matter what Gwen said …
Gwen …
Oh shit I almost forgot -
Sarah broke the kiss and leaned her head against the pillar again, sucking in air. “Jareth.” Her voice was thick; thinking felt like wading through molasses. She ran her hands across his shoulders as he bent his head to the swell of her breasts; Sarah shivered as he kissed her there. She twisted her fingers into his hair and tugged. “Jareth.”
“Yes?”
Sarah almost laughed, despite herself, because he sounded drunk. “Could you just - give me a minute, please?” She released his hair and let one leg fall from where it had twined around him. How did that happen? “I need to - think. About something.”
For a long moment he stayed where he was, but then he murmured, “Very well,” and stepped back. Sarah blinked. She had half expected to have to struggle, and plead, but there he was, a good arm’s-length away, running one hand through his pale hair and looking disoriented.
It was too good to be true, of course. She swore as she straightened, and her dress began to fall off. “You - did you get all of the laces?”
He wasn’t too disoriented to smirk. “I’m afraid so.”
“Great,” Sarah fumed. “Well, since you untied them, you can retie them.” She held her dress together by making a fist in the material behind her back, with her left hand, not her right. Her right hand throbbed, strangely. “It took Diana forever, so I’m sure as hell not doing it.”
Jareth had flicked her a glance, at her friend’s name; his eyes widened as he caught her glare. “And don’t think that I’ve forgotten, Goblin King. You’ve had your three kisses, so now you have to put things back the way they were.”
“Are you sure, Sarah?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“Because,” and he caught a fall of his cloak in one hand, and ran his fingers through the feathers, “in the first place, I believe I only had two kisses. In the second place, and if I remember correctly, your friends were standing frozen in fear.” The Goblin King’s voice was low. “You were on a surprisingly intimate footing with the Child Stealer before, and now … Now, they will have all the more reason to fear you …”
“Wait,” Sarah began, but he spoke over her.
“Can you imagine the reaction?” Jareth laughed, and turned on one heel. He caught sight of the last crystal on the ground and snatched it up; its light threw the planes and angles of his face into harsh relief. “The news spreading like a fire, and your friends in the thick of it: the Goblin King has a Queen, the Child Stealer has a partner in crime -” his eyes blazed, “the Taker of Souls has a mate.” Jareth tossed the crystal high, and caught it again, laughing. “Can you imagine?”
Queen - partner - mate - Her mind refused to process the words. “Jareth,” Sarah said, slowly, carefully, “I - I think you’re assuming that I -”
“- will stay.” The Goblin King nodded. He looked almost insane; Sarah recoiled. “You will stay with me - you know me, you know what I am, and yet you kissed me. You embraced me. You held me close to you … Ah, Sarah …” He stared, then smiled, and the sight made her blood freeze. “I had banished even the thought of love from my world -”
“No,” she choked out, in a high-pitched voice.
“- but Sarah, my Sarah, with you I will lack for nothing, and I will give you everything …” He slowed, catching sight of her expression, and his brow creased. “What is it?”
She was dimly aware of the fact that she was trembling, but all of her being was focused on the terrible light in his eyes, willing him to understand her words. “Jareth …” she whispered. “I - I want to go home. I want to go back with my friends.”
“You do, do you?” He grinned at her, his teeth showing jagged and sharp. “Then you should not have taken my ring.”
Ring? Sarah fixed on the memory; his pressing the crystal against her palm and squeezing with both his hands until the heat turned into a sharp agonizing point - She held her right hand up to the light and stared, her heart pounding.
“Explain to me,” she said, keeping her voice calm. “I see what looks like a third-degree burn, but I don’t see a ring.”
Jareth stared at her hand, then strode over to her and grabbed it. The pain made tears spring to her eyes. He looked at her palm, then twisted her wrist to look at the backs of her fingers. Then he snarled something vicious, but the language was none she could understand, even if she were trying to grasp it, rather than trying to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Too late, Sarah thought, as he pressed his thumb into the burn; she sucked in a breath and let her chin drop to her chest.
“It didn’t work,” Jareth spat. “All of a piece - the glamour, the geas, the spell of binding, all of it failing.”
“No power over me,” Sarah offered, weakly, and felt rather than saw him turn.
“Wait …” the Goblin King growled. Then he placed a finger and thumb on her chin, and tilted her face up - only to gaze into her eyes, his own frowning. “Why -”
Sarah felt a tear fall. Jareth blinked. “Why do you weep?”
“Are you kidding?” Her voice cracked. “You hurt me, you bastard!”
A look of consternation spread over his face. “How can this hurt you? You have power, Sarah, a very great power - how can this -”
“I don’t know,” she gulped. “But it does.”
Jareth raised an eyebrow. “Well, you were the one to resist the magic.” He leaned in, and gently kissed away the tear; she felt her stomach churn. “And all you need is some moss from the oldest tree in the Labyrinth, and it will heal itself in no time at all.”
Sarah tried not to hyperventilate. Her head throbbed in time with her hand. “Jareth, I am not staying with you.”
“But you are, Sarah.” His voice was as soft as silk. “My Sarah … you knew. You knew who I was - you knew what I was, and yet you kissed me.” She stared into his eyes, mismatched, glittering with magic, gazing back into her own ... “You knew my true name, and yet you kissed me. Sarah … you have my name, and I have yours …” He kissed her cheek again, and whispered, in her ear, “You cannot have thought that I would ever let you go …”
Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. I won’t break down, I won’t give him the satisfaction. But he wouldn’t be satisfied, just puzzled by the fact that she wasn’t jumping for joy at the prospect of being kidnapped and imprisoned and - her mind stuttered with the memory of the kiss - I won’t let this happen. Besides, he -
Oh.
“Jareth,” she croaked. “You’re forgetting something important.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.” Sarah pushed him away. He frowned at her, as she raised her burned hand to wipe the tears from her face. “You have no power over me - so your spells won’t work. You made the rest of this party disappear,” she tipped her chin at the surrounding darkness, “but you can’t move me anywhere.”
The crystal he was holding flickered; she just barely glimpsed his jaw tightening. She continued. “I’m not going to the Labyrinth with you, and unless you return me to my friends, I’m just going to stay here.”
“Forever?” he asked, his upper lip curling.
“Not long at all. Just until I go crazy.” I think I’m well on the way already. “Or die of thirst.”
Jareth’s voice was rough. “I would bring you water.”
“Well, I wouldn’t drink it. And my will is as strong as yours, remember.”
He was silent.
Sarah scrubbed at her eyes again, wincing at the pain in her hand. “And - and would you want that? If you - love me,” she stammered the words, “would you want me to suffer and die?” It hurt too much to continue with her right hand, so she brought her left out from behind her back, to tuck her tangled hair behind her ears. She heard a rustle, and shivered, because it was suddenly cold. “Is that what you think love is?”
Jareth was still silent - but it was different, somehow - oh. The rasp of his breathing had stopped.
Sarah blinked, and looked at him.
He was staring at her. And his eyes were glittering with … she gulped. Desire, hunger … greed? What was the right way of - oh - she shuddered. Why is it so cold?
And then she realized why. And why the Goblin King wasn’t staring at her face, anymore.
Sarah scrambled to pull her dress back up, even as she felt her face turn scarlet. Her right hand throbbed, and her left fumbled with the slippery satin. Both were shaking so much that she lost the tenuous grip she had and the material slid down further.
Choking back a cry, she dropped to her knees and scrabbled for the dress. A silver ornament fell from its braid, and with a flash of inspiration, she bent her head so that a fall of dark brown hair covered her breasts. With her eyes lowered, and as she caught at the fabric with her good hand, she could not see him at all. But -
Sarah froze where she crouched, her pulse thumping in her ears. She could hardly hear his footsteps - he was treading softly, as a great cat might when stalking its prey … She squeezed her eyes shut, hunching her shoulders, but there was no way to miss the sensation of his feathered cloak drifting against her skin.
“Well now,” and his voice was like velvet. “What have we here?”
She winced in anticipation, and then shivered at the sensation of his hand drifting over her hair.
“Does this seem familiar to you, Sarah? Because it seems to me as though we’re retracing our steps - with, of course, one enticing variation …” He traced a finger through her hair, parting it, and brushed along the line of her neck.
Then he laid his bare palm on her back, in a gentle caress.
Sarah flinched, and he laughed, quietly, his breath warm over her skin. “How lovely you are like this, my Sarah. And yet …” he mused. “And yet, there is something less pleasing about it …”
She swallowed. “And what might that be?”
“You are afraid of me, now, when you were not before.” The Goblin King drew his hand away, one finger at a time, and sighed. “Such a pity.”
It’s true. She clenched her jaw. He’s right. I am afraid.
He began walking around her, circling, as silent as an owl in flight, except for the smallest scrape of his footsteps. It was strangely intimate, in a fearful way, to know that he was devouring her with his gaze, but that her will was as strong as his, her kingdom as great, and that -
You have no power over me, she thought, and suddenly, and with frightening clarity, she saw a way of escape.
“Well,” she said in a level voice; the footsteps stopped. “Maybe I was … hesitating, for a moment.”
“Hesitating?” Jareth drawled.
“Yes.” Sarah fisted both hands in the dress, and pulled it back up to cover herself. Then she straightened her shoulders, and raised her head high, to stare at him as proudly as she could from the disadvantage of kneeling.
He was smiling that twisted half-smile, but she had seen the look burning in his eyes before the proud mask slammed into place. “Yes, hesitating. You see, I want to negotiate, and you’re not giving me much to start with.”
The Goblin King tossed the one remaining crystal back and forth between his hands. “I do see. Well, what have you to say?”
“May I get up, please?”
“No.” He smirked.
Sarah rolled her eyes; and caught the spark of feral delight that flashed in his. “Fine. Goblin King, I wish to negotiate the terms of my return to my friends, and to my world.”
“No,” he murmured, staring into the crystal. “I want you to stay with me.”
“I know that, but you also want me alive, don’t you?” At his grimace, she continued. “Alive, and healthy, if not happy, and willing to do -”
Sarah paused. Watching her narrowly, Jareth raised an eyebrow. “‘Willing to do’ … what?”
Here goes nothing. She returned his stare, for a long moment. Then she caught at her hair with her good hand and combed it forward, making sure that he could see the back of her neck, vulnerable and pale. “Depends,” she murmured, turning her head to the side and staring down. Pretend to be afraid. Just a bit. Just a tiny bit - not too much. “What do you want?” Look at me, Child Stealer, I’m all alone and afraid. Take the bait.
“Besides you with me, forever?” He laughed, softly; she stiffened, despite herself. “I might have to consider it further.”
“Do you want your gloves back?” She made her own voice low. “We could start with that.”
The grey scraps of silk had fallen down the front of her dress in the confusion. Sarah steeled herself, then looked up at Jareth, smiled deliberately, and slid the heavy satin up her legs. She plucked the gloves from where they had ended up, pressed together between her thighs.
Then she flicked her gaze back to him - he was staring at her, his eyes wide and his nostrils flared.
“Well?” Sarah held the gloves out to the Goblin King.
Jareth’s eyes held hers, as he stepped forward and took the gloves with his free hand, his fingers lingering. Sarah could only watch, pulse thumping in her ears, as he brought the silk to his lips, and then - oh god - casually sniffed. Her face burned. He had better not be able to - oh the unmitigated bastard. For he smiled at her in return, knowingly, and tucked the gloves away somewhere within his cloak.
That doesn’t change anything, Sarah told herself, fiercely. “So,” she said. Her voice sounded brittle, and his smile widened. “That was a good-faith offer. Now you have to hear my terms.”
“With pleasure.” Jareth cupped the crystal in both hands, and inclined his head.
“OK. First, I want you to reorder time. I don’t want anybody to know about our - connection, including my friends. I want them to forget, you understand?” He said nothing; she soldiered on. “And I want you to promise me that you’ll leave them alone. Forever.”
The Goblin King heard her out. Then he arched his eyebrows. “That’s all?”
Sarah stumbled over the words, in her haste. “And I want to go back to them, and return to my world, without fearing that you’ll try and kidnap me. You have no power over me, remember? But -” and she looked around the gloom of the spell, and didn’t need to pretend nervousness. “I don’t have a way of getting out of here. At least, not yet.”
“I see.” He glanced at the crystal. “And what do you offer me in return?”
She held the dress closer. “That third kiss that you wanted.”
Jareth’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s all?”
“Yes. And I gave you back your gloves.”
A cold laugh. “How absurd. You ask me to sacrifice you forever, and for a kiss - really, Sarah, perhaps I have become spoiled after two in the last half hour … but I do not see how this is a fair exchange.”
She closed her eyes, tiredly. “Who said anything about sacrificing me forever?”
The Goblin King was silent.
“Really,” and she swallowed. “That seems to be a problem with all you epic evil types. You threaten me, and hurt me, and do your best to bully me into giving you what you want - but did it ever occur to you just to ask?”
Sarah opened her eyes again, only to see him gazing at her as though he had never seen her before. “Ask?” and his voice sounded like it had when she had first kissed him - confused. Disbelieving.
“Yes, ask.”
“Will you come back to the Labyrinth?”
“No.”
“Will you be my Queen?”
“No!”
Jareth hissed. “You tell me to ask, but it appears futile, Sarah.”
“Look, Jareth …” Sarah bit her lip. “I just came here to go to party, for Valentine’s Day. I’m twenty-two years old, and I - I just found my own apartment.” She made her voice soft, and pleading. “I’ve only just started to have my own life, really … so I don’t want to be a queen of anything. Not yet.”
Jareth had been frowning, but at her last words, his eyes flashed. “‘Not yet,’” he echoed. “How interesting. Do you mean to imply that someday … some fine day in the future, you might wish to be a queen?”
“Maybe.”
“My queen?”
Sarah’s skin crawled. “Maybe?”
His lips curled. “I’m still not convinced.”
“I just need time, Jareth,” she quavered, tilting her head down. Sarah adjusted her grip on her dress and pretended not to notice a fold of it slipping. Take the bait. Take the bait. She heard him exhale between his teeth - the hiss of it slithered over her skin, and she didn’t have to fake the trembling of her hands as she clutched the satin closer again. Take the bait - Get all hot and bothered, and make a stupid mistake, damn you. “Besides …” and inspiration hit, thank god. “You’re asking the wrong questions.”
“And what are the right ones?”
“Smaller-scale.” She paused. “Like, ‘What are you doing tomorrow night?’”
“Tomorrow …” Jareth mused. “Tomorrow, the day of the moon.”
“Yeah.”
“Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement.”
“That’s not what I - Jareth,” she snapped, as he grinned; was he teasing her? The lunacy of it made her light-headed; her freedom on the line, and he was willfully misinterpreting her words. “Ask me for another day.”
“Odin’s day,” he returned, suddenly serious. His grip on the crystal tightened. “What are you doing in the evening?”
Odin’s day? Sarah blinked, and her mind translated, Wednesday. “Um.” She swallowed. Stall. “I think I’m busy.”
“Odin’s day next, then? I may call on you? In the world over the Underground, at a place of your choosing?”
Now or never. Do it. “Sure.” Sarah forced a smile. “So you see, you can come say hello next week Wednesday, and we can take it from there. One step at a time.”
The Goblin King looked younger, somehow, despite the shark teeth glinting in his broad grin. “And for that, and a kiss, I return you to your friends, and your happy little life, yes?”
Mutely, Sarah nodded. Please, oh please …
“So be it.” Jareth tossed the crystal in the air, laughing, and caught it.
A rush of relief almost caused her physical pain. Sarah gasped, and brought her hand to her mouth, forgetting until she felt its throb that it was the one with the burn. She made sure the dress was drawn tight in her good hand, and then she clambered to her feet.
“Ah, I will forgive you that, my Sarah …” His voice was jovial, but she remembered ice, and I don’t recall saying that you could get up.
I’m not afraid of you, Goblin King, she thought, fiercely, but said instead, “Gee, thanks,” and smoothed out the crumpled satin of her bodice as best she could. “When can I leave?”
“So soon?”
Sarah looked around at the darkness, and shivered. “The sooner the better.”
“Very well,” he sighed, and she fought not to flinch as he drew close. “You see, Sarah …” and he tapped the crystal. She squinted, and saw figures dancing. “Here is the ball, and here,” he tapped the crystal again, “are your friends. When I cast the spell, time will be reordered, you will return, and none shall remember what has passed. Except you, of course.” Jareth smiled into her eyes. “Is this acceptable?”
She nodded.
“Perfect.” He twirled the crystal on his fingertips. “Then there is only the small matter of my kiss.”
“Right.” She leaned back against the pillar. “Only one, and only on the lips, and nothing more than a minute -”
“Ah, my Sarah …” Jareth’s smile widened. “The time to specify the nature of this kiss was surely during negotiations. Was it not?”
Sarah felt the blood drain from her face.
No wonder it was such an easy sell. No wonder he seems so happy. Well, if he thinks that I’m going to - her thoughts raced - that I’m going to … oh my god, take the bait, I said, and he did, he did -
“OK, your Majesty, let me explain something to you. Someone may think he loves someone else, but no amount of lust, or obsession, or sheer stupidity, will change the fact that a kiss is a kiss, and that a kiss doesn’t involve anything more than the lips. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” Jareth said over his shoulder, still smiling, as he set the orb down, off to the side. Then - and Sarah froze - he flicked various buttons open, pulled his shirt off from beneath the cloak, and let the fabric fall in a heap to mute the light.
Oh my god, this is bad, this is bad. It was darker, but - not as dark as it was before, her thoughts chanted, beginning to panic. Not as dark, but still dark enough, and what is he going to do?
She told her legs to move, but everything about her was frozen - except for her heartbeat, crashing in her ears.
“Well, well …” The Goblin King stopped in front of her, barely a foot away. “You wouldn’t be afraid again, would you, Sarah?
“You know what you look like, leaving feathers on, but no shirt?” she spat. “You look like some sort of - mascot. Like a deranged poultry enthusiast -”
Jareth stepped closer. “Or like poor Icarus, who fled the Labyrinth, but flew too high … Too close to the sun, and then he fell, and fell so far, who was so fair, that all wept to see him bleeding, dying there … Well. All except your Goblin King, of course.”
His breath was warm on her face; the heat from his body more pronounced than she remembered. Sarah clutched the dress closer, and bit her lip as he traced a finger over her shoulder, down her arm - then he touched her right hand, in the middle of the burn, and she hissed, “Stop that.”
“I’m so terribly sorry,” he murmured, not sounding sorry at all. She cursed him, mentally - but then her thoughts ground to a halt as he leaned forward, and gently kissed her hand.
“Jareth,” she started, hating the way her voice shook - but he cut in.
“You know better than to try and tell me that was my kiss, Sarah.” His voice was amused. “And do you know why I kept this cloak instead of the shirt?”
“No.”
And then he leaned close, and she felt his breath, hot, at her ear. “I’ve seen the way you look at it, and I felt your gasp when you touched it. It has power, Sarah, and so do you … and the two together …”
She waited, her skin crawling. Finally, “… the two together?” she repeated.
“Words fail me.” Jareth’s voice was rough. “Here …” He licked her ear - she flinched - and then he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, and pressed closer to her. Sarah dug the fingers of her left hand into the burn, where her hands were clenched together, just so she wouldn’t have to think about the hard length of him hot against her body, or about the way his skin seemed to set hers on fire, wherever they touched …
“You …” the Goblin King rasped, as he moved, slightly. “Sarah, I never -”
“Really? Great, a biology lesson. I said it before, and I’ll say it again - you kiss with your mouth, Jareth, and not with your -”
“That’s not quite what I meant.” He laughed against her skin. “But you’ll never bore me, my love.”
Sarah felt her stomach drop to her toes. “What do you mean?”
“What - that I find you charming, and fascinating, and scintillating, and -”
“No.” She gulped. “You said ‘my love.’”
Jareth paused.
She felt him smile against her ear, and then he moved to stare into her eyes. “So I did.”
Sarah couldn’t look away, with him this close. She saw his eyes gleam in the dark. “Ah, and now you are afraid …”
“Jareth, it’s just - it’s just that love … love is a big thing, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I traffic in pain and heartbreak, selfishness and mockery - but I know what is said about love ... after all,” he whispered, “similar things are said about fear.”
The Goblin King brushed a kiss over her brow. “Fear me …” He bent to her jaw; another kiss. “Love me …” He stooped to her collarbone. “Do as I say …”
And then he sank to his knees before her, fluid and graceful, and Sarah thought her heart would stop.
“Fear, and love, and obedience - they’re much the same, really.” His voice was muffled, against the satin crumpled over her stomach. “All a form of slavery.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak. She could only stare at his shock of hair, pale in the darkness, and then at the muted light from the crystal reflecting in his eyes, as he gazed up at her face.
“Well, my Sarah …” and she saw him tilt his head to one side. “May I kiss you?”
Sarah bit her lip until she tasted blood.
“So silent.” He traced her hips, through the fabric, and tapped his long fingers in a slow pattern. “I crave an answer, my Queen.”
I’m not - I - She tried, but couldn’t speak -
“Precious thing,” and his voice was a silken caress. “Let me kiss you …”
He took hold of the fabric of her dress, and tugged, slightly - just enough for Sarah to feel the pull, where she held the material in both hands. She gasped, and stiffened.
If she could see in the dark, she knew her knuckles would be white.
Jareth paused. “Surely you’re not afraid of me, precious thing? Kneeling as I am?”
“No,” she rasped.
She felt him rest his forehead against her body. “Then let go.”
“I - I don’t -” Sarah swallowed, hard. “I can’t -”
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Let go.”
She trembled, and she knew that he would feel it, damn it, her shaking like a leaf.
“Sarah … my love …” The Goblin King’s whisper was somehow dark, even in the blackness of the spell. “If you wish me to stop, at any point, command me, and I will obey.”
Her breath hitched.
“Now - let go.”
Sarah closed her eyes tight, and opened her hands; she felt the satin slither down her body as he pulled. He touched a long finger to one of her shins - she wasn’t sure which, she couldn’t think - oh my god oh my god I can’t really be doing this - but she lifted one foot, then the other, as he moved the dress away from where it caught around her ankles.
He kissed her belly, and flicked his tongue into her navel, and she almost jumped out her skin with the sensation, her eyes flying open - “Jareth,” she gasped, and she felt his teeth scrape over her heated flesh, as he traced his tongue lower, and lower. “Jareth - oh my god -”
A faint blue crackle of static marked the path of the satin as he tossed it to the side; it fell over the crystal, with his shirt, and the dim light vanished completely. So it was only the darkness, and her fingers knotted in his hair, and his hands and mouth and tongue on her, and kisses that made her arch her back, and gasp his name, the name that only she was brave enough to say -
************
“Jareth,” Sarah murmured. It was somehow quiet, after the noise of the High King’s reception -
“What?” Diana turned, her plucked eyebrows raised. “What did you say?”
Sarah felt a wave of vertigo; her knees wobbled, as she looked up and saw the Goblin King, coldly beautiful, gliding down the stairs at the end of the huge hall. Last in line, the place of power, and walking down the steps now - right now, she realized, and silence was rippling through the room, spreading, as he fixed the crowd with a haughty stare.
“Oh -” Sarah said.
“What is it?” Sylvie was pulling at her sleeve.
“Up there,” Sarah gestured, feebly. She didn’t need to pretend to feel faint; her head was swimming. “There’s something - something’s not right ...”
Gwen had turned to listen, and Diana was talking to her urgently, pointing. The blonde looked, frowning, and then gasped, “Oh bloody hell - quick, everyone,” she grabbed Sarah’s arm, “get her out of here.”
“But what is it?” Sylvie asked, and, “She’s new, from Above,” Gwen replied, terse. “They say he can smell ‘em.” To Diana’s unheard question, she hissed, “The Goblin King, idiot, he’s here - get her out.”
“Quick - the side room!” “Yeah -” “Watch the dress, watch the dress,” and before Sarah knew it, her friends had closed ranks and bundled her out of the main hall. A door slammed shut, and she was deposited on a divan.
“Ouf,” chirped Sylvie, “that was close.”
“Too close.” Gwen leaned against the door. “How the bloody hell does he come to be here, anyway? Da says he never gets invited.”
“Who?” Sarah croaked, and, “Well, if my aunt is right, then the story goes -” Diana began, and Sarah could tune her out.
She bit her lip, and regretted it immediately, because it was - sore? Sarah blinked. Her lips felt chapped, and cracked in places; her legs felt like rubber, and - and there was a nasty burn on her right hand.
She stared at her reflection, in the mirror opposite the divan. At least her dress was laced again - But why would it have been unlaced?
Someone knocked on the door.
Her friends wheeled, and faced it, Gwen jumping away as though she had been scalded. “Who is it?”
“Could I have a word?” came a familiar voice -
- and that voice was all she needed, for the memories to come flooding back. Sarah stared into the mirror. Her hand hurt because he cast a spell on me, or tried to; her lips were chapped because I kissed him, again and again, and her legs felt weak because I stayed standing up, while he was - oh - her face burned. Standing up, or trying to, until he coiled the fingers of one hand into her upper leg, on one side and urged her to edge it up further, whispering, and then he placed a shoulder beneath her thigh and held her until she balanced and did it to the other and oh my god. Her back felt as though something had rubbed it raw. The pillar had, she thought, and what was he saying now, because something told her it might be important.
Gwen had arranged the other two in front of the divan, and stood between them. She was replying in a monotone to the Goblin King’s low and honeyed words. Sarah saw Sylvie’s hands, knotted behind her back, and trembling. There was something said about the ball, and the dancing; they each turned him down flat without him even asking, which made Sarah press back a giggle that was half hysteria. But then he said, “Before I take my leave of you, I believe one of you dropped something.”
“A glove. How nice.” Gwen didn’t pretend to sound anything but hostile. “But, sorry, I don’t think it belongs to anyone here -”
“Truly?” It sounded as though he was grinning; Sarah sneaked a peek in the mirror, which reflected almost all of the room - and yes, he was. The Goblin King looked distorted, in the glass - but the overall effect on her was as though someone had gripped her insides in a red-hot fist, and squeezed. Sarah closed her eyes, and pressed her legs together, tightly. “You see - and pardon me for being, ah, indelicate, Lady …?”
“Bronwen, of Forest Green.” The rustle of a curtsy. “And these are my companions, Achren and Morwen, of Longsword Keep.” More rustling cloth, and, “There now. Was that so difficult? How do you do,” Jareth murmured, politely. “Lady Bronwen, to be frank, this glove’s scent matches someone’s in this room - someone who might just be behind you, as you can see - right - there?” He indicated the mirror with his chin.
“Ah, yes.” Gwen stepped away, and fixed Sarah with an urgent stare. “This is, uh, Lady -”
Sarah blinked at her, and flailed, mentally, until she came up with, “Lady Krystal-Lee. Of, um, the Metropolitan Museum of Art - Park.”
“Indeed.” Jareth’s mouth twitched. “Are you newly arrived Underground, my lady Christalë?”
“That’s really none of your business,” Diana snapped.
“Ah. And your family are all well, lady - brothers, sisters?”
Gwen cut in. “She doesn’t have any.”
“Hm.” Jareth glanced back and forth at the others, who refused to look at him, and then he shrugged, and bowed. “Lady Christalë, I believe this belongs to you.”
He held out the grey silk glove - his own. Sarah stared at it, heavily. Her scent. She blushed, and sweat began to bead on her forehead. Jareth saw it - she saw his eyes glitter, and then his tongue darted out over his upper lip, and good, because she wasn’t the only person hot and bothered in the room.
Then she saw her friends; the fear on their faces - and Gwen making a minute motion with her head, side-to-side: No.
“I’ve never seen that glove before.” She set her jaw, and looked away from him. “You have the wrong person.”
“Oh, I think I very much have the right person … my lady …” and with his husky voice, she remembered his words whispering hot over her flesh as he licked her - god -
Sarah swallowed, and glanced around. Nobody else was looking at the Goblin King, or at her, for that matter - so she glared up at him. Bite me, she mouthed, but I have, he mouthed back, and tapped his upper thigh.
And, that explained the sore spot there. Shit. She shoo-ed him away, with a flicking gesture; his eyes flared. “You will not accept this small favor, Lady Christalë, as a welcome to the Underground?”
“No, she won’t,” Sylvie said, suddenly, in a fierce voice.
Jareth paused. Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah saw him looking round the group of her friends. As though he were taking their measure …
“No,” she agreed, clearing her throat. “Thank you, but I have sufficient favors already.”
She carefully smoothed down her dress, and folded her hands, avoiding his gaze. But there was no way of avoiding the quiet sound of the feathers of his cape; rustling as he drew it close. Something tickled - Sarah bit her lip, and darted a glance down - and saw that a small white feather had fallen onto her bodice. Shit - she grabbed at it, to keep it hidden.
Jareth’s voice was quiet. “Then I will bid you farewell. And I might say to all of you, though, that Lady Christalë has an excellent taste …”
Sarah felt her face flush, and could hear his grin, as he finished: “In friends.”
Oh, I am going to murder him for that, she thought, furiously, next week on Wednesday. Her heart pounded. Oh my god, next Wednesday - that’s only ten days away.
She hardly heard the Goblin King leave; it was only a bit later, though, that Gwen hurried back with a jar. “The bastard, trying to slip you a favor, and you not a day Underground! Wait til my Da hears about it. And you wouldn’t believe what he said to me, leaving,” she fumed. “That someone had tried to hook you with a binding spell, and you obviously didn’t know it. Here,” and she drew out the stopper, and smeared a dollop of cream onto Sarah’s right hand. “Does that hurt?”
It did - a strange sting - and Sarah said so. “Son of a bitch, that’s a powerful glamour,” Gwen breathed. “I can’t see a thing. Sarah,” and her voice was urgent, “did you eat or drink anything since you came here? Did you take anything, from anyone?”
“No.” Sarah was only half listening; it was great, to watch the burn bubble and heal in real time.
Sylvie and Diana were defending themselves from Gwen’s charges of negligence; Sarah let them fight it out for another moment, and then said, “Guys, whatever happened - it’s OK now.” She wiggled her fingers. “Nothing hurts anymore.” The burn was completely gone.
“But we were just -”
“Looking out for me, I know. That’s what friends are for.” Even as she spoke, in a cheerful voice, something in Sarah’s heart twisted. For all her bravado, she suddenly felt as though she might cry. He had just been here, but only just before that he had had her moaning, gasping, crying out his name … Sarah shuddered. It had all turned out all right, though, hadn’t it? Wednesday, she thought. I have until next Wednesday night - I’ll figure out something, to get him off my back -
Her mind promptly supplied her with an image of the Goblin King on her back. Sarah sucked in a breath. “Come on.” She got up from the divan, and strode to the door. “I want to see the rest of this party.” Anything for a distraction.
“Great - let’s go,” Diana bounced up off her chair, and Sylvie flitted behind her. Gwen closed the jar of ointment, set it down by the divan, and followed, frowning.
“Listen, Sarah,” she began.
“It’s all right - come on,” Sarah coaxed. “Out we go.” She urged her friends ahead of her. “I got your backs.”
In more ways than one, she thought - because she would walk out that door, and if Jareth looked for her again, he would see her in the place of power. I’ll protect them. And he could do nothing to touch them, because she had paid for it already - and even if he whispered Sarah or precious thing … or my love from across the room, she could easily pretend that his voice was one of hundreds, that no one had ever knelt to the Goblin Queen, and that no one ever would again.
The End
I might still change that ending, actually - there's one tiny twist that I'd like to include ... but if you think it hangs well as is, lemme know.