Wicked -- a Labyrinth fic
Labyrinth is taking over my life and my writing. Three fics in one month? Dammit, Jareth, have you teamed up with Loki and the Muse?!
Anyhow, this latest ficlet was written in response to Challenge #15 on labyfic. The challenge was to write something about the portrait of what looks like a young Jareth, which can be found here: http://soapybubbles3.deviantart.com/art/The-Goblin-Prince-456591246
All in all, I'm quite pleased with the result :)
Wicked
A Labyrinth fic
By Ti’ana Luthien
She stares hard at the portrait, trying to think of whom he reminds her; she doesn’t remember much these days. She knows Toby; knows her children; knows her husband is dead; but the rest-
So much is a blank, lost in a fog with the memory of her youth and how to tie her shoelaces.
But this face. She knows it. Or thinks she does. Something about the strange mismatched eyes speaks to her. Toby says he found it in the attic. Did she paint it? Toby tells her she used to, but she cannot remember the feel of a brush between her arthritic fingers.
“Hello, Sarah.” The voice is low and soft and she wonders what it would be like to hear it sing.
She turns away from the painting and stares at the speaker: he is tall and thin, shrouded in shadows that glitter and shimmer every time he draws breath. His face is flawless and pale and all sharp planes, his eyes icy blue, his blonde-white hair wild. He is beautiful and…dangerous.
“Do I know you?” she asks, frowning as her gaze swings back to the portrait; younger, but it’s the same man.
“You did, once.” He is kneeling in front of her chair.
She stretches out one mottled hand, dares to touch his ageless skin, and he trembles beneath her touch. Ah. “And what did I think of you?”
He smiles, showing his teeth. “You destroyed my kingdom.”
A land serene, a crystal moon…
“Did I? Good for me.”
He laughs softly, a little sadly, and takes her chin in his hand. “You know that much, at least. I am not a good man, Sarah. Not now, not then.”
Then he leans forward and kisses her like a dying man, his tongue sliding between her lips, running over her teeth, exploring every inch of her mouth; she tastes the wickedness in him and her lips curve.
Fear me, love me…
“I don’t think I let you do that before,” she whispers, when he pulls away.
He laughs again, but it sounds like a sob, and he rests his forehead against hers. “No, you didn’t, you precious thing.”
How you’ve turned my world, you precious thing…
She takes his face between her hands, rubbing her thumbs along his cheekbones. He stills, his eyes half-closed. “Well, the hell with then,” she says and brings her mouth to his, kissing him with everything she can’t remember. Colour and light explode behind her eyes and she feels his fingers in her hair, song and magic pouring down her throat, and a name long forgotten rises to the front of her memory.
Jareth…
“Come away with me,” he says, his voice hoarse.
She smiles into his hair, running her fingers along the back of his neck. She remembers a name, that’s all, and she is old - who knows how much time she has left? - but this man… “You’re in luck,” she murmurs into his ear. “I’m feeling wicked.”
He laughs and gathers her into his arms. “Be careful what you wish for,” he says, cradling her gently.
In a shower of glitter they vanish, the sound of their laughter ringing through the air.
~finis~
Anyhow, this latest ficlet was written in response to Challenge #15 on labyfic. The challenge was to write something about the portrait of what looks like a young Jareth, which can be found here: http://soapybubbles3.deviantart.com/art/The-Goblin-Prince-456591246
All in all, I'm quite pleased with the result :)
Wicked
A Labyrinth fic
By Ti’ana Luthien
She stares hard at the portrait, trying to think of whom he reminds her; she doesn’t remember much these days. She knows Toby; knows her children; knows her husband is dead; but the rest-
So much is a blank, lost in a fog with the memory of her youth and how to tie her shoelaces.
But this face. She knows it. Or thinks she does. Something about the strange mismatched eyes speaks to her. Toby says he found it in the attic. Did she paint it? Toby tells her she used to, but she cannot remember the feel of a brush between her arthritic fingers.
“Hello, Sarah.” The voice is low and soft and she wonders what it would be like to hear it sing.
She turns away from the painting and stares at the speaker: he is tall and thin, shrouded in shadows that glitter and shimmer every time he draws breath. His face is flawless and pale and all sharp planes, his eyes icy blue, his blonde-white hair wild. He is beautiful and…dangerous.
“Do I know you?” she asks, frowning as her gaze swings back to the portrait; younger, but it’s the same man.
“You did, once.” He is kneeling in front of her chair.
She stretches out one mottled hand, dares to touch his ageless skin, and he trembles beneath her touch. Ah. “And what did I think of you?”
He smiles, showing his teeth. “You destroyed my kingdom.”
A land serene, a crystal moon…
“Did I? Good for me.”
He laughs softly, a little sadly, and takes her chin in his hand. “You know that much, at least. I am not a good man, Sarah. Not now, not then.”
Then he leans forward and kisses her like a dying man, his tongue sliding between her lips, running over her teeth, exploring every inch of her mouth; she tastes the wickedness in him and her lips curve.
Fear me, love me…
“I don’t think I let you do that before,” she whispers, when he pulls away.
He laughs again, but it sounds like a sob, and he rests his forehead against hers. “No, you didn’t, you precious thing.”
How you’ve turned my world, you precious thing…
She takes his face between her hands, rubbing her thumbs along his cheekbones. He stills, his eyes half-closed. “Well, the hell with then,” she says and brings her mouth to his, kissing him with everything she can’t remember. Colour and light explode behind her eyes and she feels his fingers in her hair, song and magic pouring down her throat, and a name long forgotten rises to the front of her memory.
Jareth…
“Come away with me,” he says, his voice hoarse.
She smiles into his hair, running her fingers along the back of his neck. She remembers a name, that’s all, and she is old - who knows how much time she has left? - but this man… “You’re in luck,” she murmurs into his ear. “I’m feeling wicked.”
He laughs and gathers her into his arms. “Be careful what you wish for,” he says, cradling her gently.
In a shower of glitter they vanish, the sound of their laughter ringing through the air.
~finis~