This would be their last night together alone. Tomorrow night they would be back at the castle, back among Jareth’s servants and constituents, before the curious eye of his subjects and beneath the oppressive thumb of the Triumvirate. Sarah wondered how much their relationship would change. If Jareth would allow her the freedoms he had said she would have or if they would return to his primitive methods of restraining prisoners who tried to find the kitchen in the middle of the night. At the idea of being restrained, Sarah’s mind wandered down a completely different path. It was unlike her to get caught up in thoughts of intimacy and even more unlike her that they be so decadent. ‘Fantasies never hurt anyone,’ she told her conscious. ‘Everything you’ve done for the last week has been one huge fantasy,’ her conscious spat back. ‘Let’s not forget, you’re no longer Aboveground. You’ve come to where the fantasies live and breath, not to mention you come with the power to bring things to life. You’re little fantasies might not be so harmless here.’
“Go to hell,” she told herself, bitter at her better judgment for ruining her fun.
“Beg your pardon,” Jareth said as he landed behind her, resuming his fey form, a fresh kill in his hand.
She looked up at him, blushing instantly, “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“I see, and who were you talking to?”
“No one.”
“But you were talking, correct?”
“Yes, it’s a mortal thing I guess, talking to oneself.” She tried to dissuade him from inquiring about the topic of her one woman conversation.
“Nonsense. We immortals talk to ourselves all the time,” a gloved hand stroked the top of her head, “only we’re not foolish enough to admit it.” At the rocks beside the falls, Jareth prepared his prey for the evening’s meal.
Sarah watched him, not knowing how many more times she would have this opportunity. He’d removed his frock coat and vest. His sleeves pushed as far up his arms as they would go. In the bask of the flames she could see the light marbled design of his breeches as they conformed to his behind and rolled over the muscles in his legs. As always, his fingertips obscured by the damnable black gloves she had come to resent. Today, beneath the tree, he had worn them while they were together, but she attributed that to the eagerness with which they had been overcome. Thinking on it, he had worn them that first night in the tent. She had recalled thinking for just a second that he looked odd, stood before her completely naked except for his gloves.
“What are you thinking about?” Jareth asked as he brought the cleaned rabbit meat to the fire.
“Huh?” Sarah asked raising her eyebrows.
“Your face is all knotted up and your jaw is practically on the ground. You’re just not yourself tonight. I hope you’re not catching cold from insisting on being out in the rain the other night.”
“What’s going to happen when we get back to your castle?” Sarah blurted out the question.
Jareth looked at her quizzically. Her inquiry certainly hadn’t been anticipated. Sitting beside the fire to tend to their meal, which his mortal was obviously too distracted to do, Jareth replied, “That’s a very general question.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I think I do,” the king stole a glance at her while she wasn’t paying attention. “I suspect there will be a certain amount of upheaval. I’ll need to announce your arrival, make arrangements with the Representatives for your visits, make you known to my staff and my subjects. I suspect it will be quite some time before there is calm.” He’d anticipated she’d say something in response. Start asking the millions of questions mortals seemed to trouble themselves with. When she said nothing, he continued, “You’ll need to be made familiar with the castle and the grounds. I know you’ll want to spend some time with Hog’s Head.” Sarah didn’t even bother correcting him. “Sarah, are you certain you’re alright?”
“You don’t have the slightest idea what I’m talking about.” Her words were angry but spoken softly, more filled with hurt than anything. Her eyes washed over him in a way that made Jareth feel mortal. Mortal in the sense that he had, in that moment, become just like every other man the girl had given herself too. Without her confirming, he knew.
“Sarah,” he began in a tone that was tender but annoyed, “must we continuously go over this. You are my guest as long as you are in the Underground, I will be your servant. You have but to tell me what it is you need,” he looked away before adding, “in any respect.”
Offended by his assumption, “It’s not just that. I don’t know anything about royalty. I mean sure out here where no one can watch us you’ve had your moments of civility with me, even times when you were able to make a joke or tell me about your family, but tomorrow when we’re back among people who expect you to be a king,” Sarah paused to suppress a sob, “how will you treat me then?”
For a moment, Jareth wished she had been talking about their relations, it would have been easier. He cleared his throat, “It’s true. I will not have the open freedoms I have with you now when we are in the presence of others. I am expected to maintain a certain decorum. Do you think that I enjoy what is expected of me?” Sarah shook her head, convinced by his mannerism that he vehemently did not. Jareth did not fail to notice the wetness which she tried to hold back in her eyes. “Sarah, I fear that you might be developing feelings for me that I cannot return.” The king lowered his brow and surveyed her closely.
Using the back of her hand, Sarah wiped away a few of the tears which had managed to run free. “You flatter yourself,” she lied. “I’d like to think that we could have a mortal friendship. I’d like to think that when I come to you it’s to seek the comfort of a friend and not just a business arrangement.”
“I’ve made my feelings on friendship quite clear. I can call you friend if that is what will make you happy, but you should know that I hold no loyalty to friends,” he spat the word distastefully from his lips.
Things were coming together in Sarah’s mind. The way he wanted her love immediately fifteen years ago, the way he refused to her the chance to get to know who he was. Jareth’s extreme distaste for friendship ran deep into his heart. It wasn’t macho independence or aristocratic supremacy, he had let someone get close and been crossed by them. Tears dried, Sarah’s eyes grew sympathetic, “Who hurt you?” When Jareth didn’t respond, she asked again. “Who hurt you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes you do. This distaste you have for friendship, the way you keep everyone at such a length, that’s not part of who you are. You deny yourself the company of others. You refuse Arulan’s affections, Hoggle’s assistance, the Cleric’s offers. Someone must have done something awful to you to make you want to shut yourself off like that, to make you incapable of trusting anyone.”
“Dinner’s ready,” the Goblin King muttered, removing the pan from the flames and setting it aside.
“I’m not hungry.”
“So starve,” he yelled as he walked off into the thicket behind them.
Sarah remained by the fire feeling awful for exposing him, but ready to be compassionate when he returned. She hoped he would return. All these years, she’d focused on what he’d done to her. Only recently had she even given a thought to what she’d done to him. Now she was realizing that in the 257 years he’d been alive, he had been hurt too. Probably in a lot of the same ways she had and by many of the same types of people. The differences between the Aboveground and the Underground narrowed for her. Some of her animosity had been let go, cast into the fire, whose flames she continued to watch, refusing to move until her king returned.
***** ***** *****
By the time Jareth returned, it was well into the early morning hours. The mortal had fallen asleep by the fire. He noticed that she did end up picking at some of what he had prepared. In all honesty, he had burnt the meal and didn’t blame her for not wanting any. His long walk had helped to diffuse some of his anger. Looking at her sleep, he found himself feeling something he had never experienced before. Gratitude. Undoubtedly, anyone, let alone a mortal, this mortal, reading into him the way she had done infuriated him, but he was thankful that she was able to see beyond the airs he wore. He dreamed of being able to confess his truths to her. Maybe, if he did, when they took her from him she would remember, that while he had been robbed of his mortality he was still, at least in part, human.
Strong arms scooped her up. She was warm from lying in the glow of the flames and snuggled against him instinctively. Nudging him under the chin, she felt like a child in his arms. His lips pressed down on her hair as he inhaled her scent. Inside the tent he wrapped Sarah in a blanket. For a long while he watched her sleep. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, she was perceptive when it came to him, but there was still so much she didn’t know, that he couldn’t tell her, both because of the short amount of time they would have together and his own stubbornness. ‘A fey’s heart is never in question,’ he thought. They were a physical reflection of the person they were inside. In that logic, Sarah could have been fey, for she was as beautiful inside as she was on the surface.
Weariness got the better of him, causing him to lay himself beside her. His arms wanted so to wrap around her body, feel the heat of her beside him, be sung to sleep by the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she dreamt. He rolled onto his side, back towards her, practically pressing his nose to the canvas wall of the tent. That was how Sarah found him when she woke up. She’d been asleep since early evening and although it was the middle of the night, she felt surprisingly refreshed. Waking up inside the tent shocked her, especially when she didn’t feel Jareth next to her. When she found him on the other side of the tent, she grumbled a bit about his being stubborn and acting like a child. “I mean it’s ridiculous at his age,” she concluded her rant.
“Fey have a very heightened sense of hearing, did you know that?” he asked without moving a muscle.
“Did I wake you?” she said tentatively.
“No. The level of sleep I was able to achieve was not a deep one to begin with. I’ve been awake most of the night. I thought it better if I at least got some rest.” He turned to face her, surprised by how close she had come to where he lie.
“So you heard…”
“Everything? Yes, I heard.”
Sarah blushed, “Honestly, you can be all of those things.”
“Indeed.” A slight frown played at his lips.
“But you can be more Jareth. I’ve seen it, you just need to show everyone else.”
“It’s complicated Sarah. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“I am a king. I must behave as I’m expected to behave. These moments you have seen me have all been weaknesses. Do you know what would become of me if I showed weakness to an adversary?”
“I don’t think it’s weak to have feelings, it’s very basic, very…”
“Human,” Jareth finished her thought. He never failed to find the line between their worlds and darken it. “While being in touch with one’s feelings might be an admirable Aboveground quality, in my world it is as good as a frock made of iron.”
“But all the pain you’re carrying around inside.” She felt her eyes tearing again for she knew that pain herself. “How does that help you to be a good king? When does someone take care of what you need?”
“Pain hardens a heart Sarah. Sometimes a new scar is like healing an old one. The grief becomes so immense that you must let go of something.”
Tears began to fall. Sarah only assumed he was talking about the pain she had caused him when she left, the pain of the second rejection healing it over and letting go of his feelings for her. “Well,” she said choking back the tears and attempting to appear undaunted, “not anymore. As long as I’m here, as long as you’ll be seeing to my needs, I will be seeing to yours as well.” He looked at her amused, knowing that they were both assigning different meanings to the same set of words. “I mean if there’s something you want to talk about, I want you to know you have a friend you can come to.”
A smile rolled over his lips, “Thank you,” he said, his hand sneaking out from beneath the blanket while his mind was focused on other things to run through her wavy hair, smoothing it down as it had gotten rather feral in her sleep. “You know that while I may call you friend, I still don’t trust you.” It wasn’t harshly that he said the words, it was honest. Nothing that transpired between them had caused him to find her trustworthy and while he hoped he was wrong, he didn’t see that anything ever could.
“Trust can be earned,” she said it with a great confidence that shook even the king.
Jareth gave her a subtle nod, “That remains to be seen.”
Sarah smiled at him making him feel completely helpless. “I feel like we should commemorate this somehow. It’s a very big step you’ve taken.” Without warning, the glove that had been flattening her hair fell to her neck. Jareth pulled her to him, capturing her lips with his. It was a powerful, needful kiss which told Sarah just how long the king had waited for someone he could confide in. Returning his kiss with equal passion she wound her arms around his shoulders. A sigh escaped her as she realized he had removed his shirt entirely for sleeping. Fingers slid over his back, the tips of her nails gently scrapping his skin. Soon, a hardness pressed into her stomach and she realized that he had removed his pants for sleeping as well. When he broke their kiss she said, “Aboveground we just shake hands.”
The Goblin King positioned himself above his mortal, eager fingers working at her waistband attempting to free her shirt from it’s constraints. Submissively, she sat up and raised her arms so that he could discard the garment. The soft leather of his gloves danced over her erect nipples before he began to gently massage her breasts. His mouth roamed her body from shoulder to shoulder and neck to mid-section. When at last he returned to her lips, he kissed them hard working to open her jaw and stroke her tongue roughly with his own, biting at her lips a little as he did this. One hand slid beneath the waistband of her pants. Sarah gasped, arching her back at his abrasive, but exhilarating touch. With his other hand Jareth supported her neck, bending his head to her ear, where he allowed his tongue to run up from the hollow of her neck, along her lobe and finally, in a throaty whisper he reminded her, “We’re no longer Aboveground.”
***** ***** *****
When they had finally torn themselves apart from one another, Sarah lie contentedly beneath the king’s arm, listening to him breathe. “Jareth,” she called. “Jareth?” He must have fallen asleep, otherwise the acute hearing he’d bragged about earlier would have forced him to respond. He continually amazed her with his skills in bed, bringing her to orgasm several times in the hour or so which they had spent entwined. And yet, as her hand roamed his body, she found that he was still fully erect, as if he could have kept at it much longer. There was a trick no mortal man could pull off, at least none she’d known. She allowed her hand to stroke him, softly at first. His body reacted even in his sleep. Giggling a bit, Sarah increased the intensity of the strokes.
The king frightened her half to death when he awoke, grabbing at her hand to still the steady motion which brought him closer and closer to the edge. “Are you never satisfied?” he asked her playfully.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
With an easy palm he guided her head back to his chest and held her hand above his heart before he closed his eyes once more, placing a kiss on her forehead he admitted, “I am quite content, of this I assure you.”
***** ***** *****
When breakfast had ended, before they prepared to ride back through the Labyrinth Sarah attempted to convince Jareth to go for a swim. “I don’t swim,” he protested, “besides we haven’t the time.”
Sarah lured him to the water’s edge where she sat trolling her foot through the water. “It’s wonderfully comfortable, just like a bathtub.” She leaned back allowing her arms to support her, tossing back her head so the sun could kiss at her neck and face.
Jareth found her incredibly appealing when she was happy. “Do you want to be forced to spend another day out here?”
“As a matter of fact,” she admitted as she shift her weight to her hands and kicked water in the king’s direction.
He looked at her stunned. She only smiled. “I cannot believe you just did that,” he said in mock irritation extending his arms and shaking the water from the surface of his clothing.
“Then you better keep your eyes open this time,” her foot flicked repeatedly through the water until he was sufficiently doused.
Jareth fought his way through the spray, pinned her legs to the ground between his own and lie her back onto the soft, sweet smelling grass. His hands held her shoulders while he shook his mane wildly, returning most of the water that she had sent there in the first place. Screaming like a child, “Jareth, stop. You’re getting me all wet,” she managed to say between bouts of hysterical laughter.
The king stopped shaking his head. Sarah stopped laughing. For a moment they just looked at one another. It was Sarah who grew uncomfortable first and looked away. When she dared to look back, Jareth had not moved, had not blinked. As his head lowered to kiss her, her head rose to meet his lips half way. Loosening his grip on her shoulders, Jareth rolled back on his haunches and accepted her into his arms as she continued to sit up. As their kiss intensified Sarah’s hand worked away the king’s coat, followed by the king’s shirt. When he leaned back to free her of her garments as well, she set her hands on his chest, touching him lightly, admiring what she saw and, when he least expected it, pushing him back into the water that pooled beneath the fall.
Sarah was curled in hysterics when the Goblin King resurfaced, his hair clung to his face. “Is this what friends do to one another?” he asked as he tread water in the center of the pool.
“Yes,” she managed between bursts of laughter, “this is exactly the kind of thing friends do to each other.
“And you wondered why I was hesitant to give you such a title.” He extended one sopping glove to her, “Come on now, you managed to waste even more time.” Sarah offered her hand in return. He sounded quite serious and she hoped she hadn’t taken their little joke too far.
“Oh, you can change into dry pants with a flick of your wrist,” she mentioned, casually.
Struggling a bit for effect, he flailed about before locking tightly onto her hand and yanking her in with him. When she resurfaced he was chuckling, “So I can, you; however, will be riding round with a wet bottom all afternoon.”
Sarah was stunned. The idea that he could be so playful thrilled her and at seeing him filled with joy, her own heart grew, still she was soaked to the bone now. Jareth was right, she couldn’t just easily change into something dry. Her curled lips loosened. She wiped the hair from her face and removed her boots, tossing them to shore. Next her pants, walking them to the bank so she could lie them out in the sun.
“What are you doing?” Jareth asked.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Sarah countered. His mouth hung open when she turned to face him, her blouse clung to her chest, her hardened nipples protruding from beneath the now almost see through fabric. “I’m putting out my clothes to dry.” She slipped the fabric over her head and spread it out on the shore as she had done with the rest of her garments, then sank into the warm water of the falls. “Mmmm,” she moaned, “I told you this would be a good idea.”
“Milady,” he said silkily, “I have ideas far better than this one.” A snap of his fingers sent his clothing away, all but those damnable gloves and he too sunk into the pool. “I told you once, I’m not much of a swimmer,” Jareth admitted coming behind Sarah, encircling her waist with his arms.
Immediately she noticed his bare arms, “Jareth, your clothes?” she said in mock surprise.
“I was feeling a little over dressed,” he replied his mouth kissing at her neck and the tender flesh behind her ear.
‘This was something different,’ she thought. Each time they’d been together up until now she had approached him, but this time, he had come to her. She used no terms of suggestion, no means of seduction, merely went along her business of needing to dry her clothes. The wet gloves slid easily over her skin, stimulating her senses more than she would have expected them to. When they settled over her breasts, she clutched his hands with her own, “Perhaps you’re still a bit over dressed, king?”
Slowly he snaked his hands from beneath hers, drawing his mouth close to her ear, he whispered, “Trust me when I tell you this,” his hands roamed further down her body, “I can bring you quite a bit of pleasure even through these flimsy leather layers.” With that his hands, which had by then found her thighs, jerked back up and brushed over her readiness.
Jareth felt the wetness that came from his mortal and easily distinguished it from the water that engulfed them. Expertly he pushed against her opening with two fingers from his left hand. Sarah sank into his arms, her legs gone limp, fell apart granting him access to her. A rolling purr traveled her throat beneath his slick tongue as he plunged into her and stroked the engorged flesh. She felt him smile against her neck. ‘Damn him,’ she thought, ‘damn him for being able to make her feel this way.’ His right hand slid round to the front of her, reaching inside her tender folds in search of her pleasure center. The speed of her breathing and volume of her cries increased.
Pulling his mouth from her neck at the same time he withdrew his hand, “Come with me, lady,” he demanded as he pulled her back through the water, beneath the falls and helped her to her feet.
“Please Jareth, don’t stop,” she begged.
“You worry for no cause woman. I have no intention of stopping until you’ve reached your satisfaction,” he promised. With the hand he’d freed, he guided his stiffness into her, slowly, taking time to feel her body accept him. Despite his efforts to remain silent a moan escaped the king’s lips, which he quickly put back to work on Sarah’s neck and shoulder. His other hand continued stroking her clitoris making her buck against his thrusts.
Sarah’s arms reached behind to rummage through his fallen mane. Though he much enjoyed her display of need for him, it was interrupting the lovely rhythm they had found. His free hand stroked her side with tenderness, whisking over her stomach, curling along the sides of her breasts. With grace, he guided her body forward until the falls were cascading just over her nipples, exhilarating Sarah even further. When she arched her back, the king dipped his hips and found he had discovered perfect access to her. For lack of anything else to hold onto, Sarah grabbed her breasts, first caressing them with her palms and then pinching at the nipples as the intensity of her orgasm grew. More than Jareth could have expected, this aroused the king causing him to increase the speed of his stroking and his thrusting in an effort to give her the satisfaction he had promised.
The grotto echoed with the sound of the king’s name as it left Sarah’s mouth in two distinct, shrill syllables. “Umh,” Jareth grunted as he hurriedly withdrew himself and sought the deeper waters of the pool to hide himself until the pain of his constant denial could subside. Sarah followed, trailing soft kisses of gratitude all about his face. Jareth’s hands held her at just a slight distance, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Mmmh,” she hummed against his neck. “Let’s never go back to the castle. Let’s just live in the grotto with the Leprechaun.”
The pain which had begun in his groin was radiating into his stomach. While his skin reeled from the feel of her lips, he received no relief in his abdomen as long as she continued to stir desire within him. “I’ve a kingdom to run Sarah. I can’t merely hide away in a stone hole spending my days and nights seeking the gratification of a woman.”
‘He had said a woman, not this woman,’ Sarah thought. She had become a passing fancy to him. Another of what she believed was a very long line of women who he had taken advantage of. There were the Gavel’s words coming back to mock her. But the king had been clear, there was no point in her developing feelings for him because he could not return them. Six weeks, six weeks to take advantage of him the way he had of her. ‘Develop a courtesan’s heart,’ she told herself. ‘No one walks away feeling owed. Learn to give and to receive pleasure, nothing more. With steely resolve, the mortal rose from his side. “Then I shall go and see if my clothes are dried.” When she had gone, Jareth remained, the pain in his stomach migrating to his chest.
Creating a towel for herself as she had before, Sarah dried and began dressing. Her clothes were not completely dry, but they would do well enough for the ride back to the castle. Jareth appeared suddenly beside her, dressed and ready. It did not escape his attention that her blouse was still damp and therefore clung nicely around her unrestrained breasts. “I’ll be ready in a minute, just need to get my hair pulled back.” Sarah had mistaken his admiration for impatience.
“I didn’t mean to be harsh before.”
“Yes you did.”
“No, I really didn’t.” He attempted to reach for her, but she jerked away.
Sarah gathered Chataigne and took him beside the rock face where she had mounted him on her own before and situated herself on her gelding. “Yes, you really did. You always do. Just when I think there’s a chance that you’ll act even mostly civilized you remind me that you are a king, better than me, better than your subjects. It constantly amazes me that you don’t argue with yourself for superiority. Let’s just get back to the castle where at least I’ll expect you to act like an ass.”
Jareth mounted Bagheera quickly, flapping the reigns in a sharp flicker that sent the mustang dashing toward the Labyrinth. Sarah followed behind him, not to be outdone by his show, driving Chataigne to match the stallion’s speed. All the while they ran, she mumbled, “Tell me not to drive the horses this way, but you can do anything you please. Just like you, what’s good for the goose, do as I say, how droll.”
When the Labyrinth walls were in sight, Jareth slowed his horse. When Sarah saw him raise his hand, she followed suit and together they trotted to the Labyrinth doors, both eager for their time alone to come to an end and yet, secretly, desperate for it to stay. “When we enter the Labyrinth, while you are in the castle, I will expect that you treat me with a certain amount of respect. I won’t allow you to cause dissension while you’re here. In exchange, I will be as courteous to you as I can be without straining the social boundaries of my culture.” Jareth washed over her with his eyes, “Unless you find that too goose-like.”
Sarah blushed. Curse the fey for their heightened senses! “I forgot you could hear.”
“Tell me,” he asked guiding Bagheera close to the gelding, “Aboveground, does one always focus on a friend’s faults?” Sarah met his penetrating gaze, held it a moment and then looked away ashamed.
Hoggle greeted them at the gate. “Sarah?” Surprise rang in his voice, “Whatta you doin’ here? Why didn’t they send you home?”
“Is that anyway to show your gratitude for the extra time you’ve been allotted with the mortal?” Jareth asked. “And you Sarah, dismount and give your friend a proper greeting.”
Both the dwarf and the woman looked at him suspiciously before she lowered herself to the ground and ran to Hoggle. Falling to her knees, she wrapped her arms about the dwarf’s stout frame and pulled him close. His eyes fell closed as he ran a hand over her silky locks. Breathing in deeply, he caught Jareth’s scent on her and sighed. Looking up at the king, prepared to twist his small face in a menace of disgust, he found the king smiling, leaned back on his horse, satisfied that he had brought these two back together. Hoggle held Sarah back to arms length, “What happened?”
Tears were in her eyes at this reunion. “The Triumvirate has decided I should stay until the Underground is fully repaired. I’ve been given six weeks.”
“Six weeks,” the dwarf looked at the king once more. “Six weeks?”
“It is as she said,” Jareth confirmed.
“But that’s unheard of,” Hoggle insisted.
“You can discuss the details tomorrow at dinner, for now, we need to get back through this Labyrinth before nightfall. We would fare much better on foot if you would be so kind as to see that these horses get back to Gribbin.”
“Yes, yer majesty,” the dwarf took Chataigne’s reigns as Jareth dismounted and handed Bagheera over to him. “Whatta you mean dinner…tomorrow night?” He gave the king a quizzical and suspicious look.
“You, Hoggle, and your family are formally invited to dine with us tomorrow night at the castle in honor of our new guest.”
“It’s Hoggle!” Over the years the response had become second nature.
“That’s what I said,” the king replied.
“So it is,” he was even more suspicious now. Glancing at Sarah, he saw the same smile he had seen on the king earlier. “Well, for Sarah,” he stressed, “we accept.”
“Splendid. You will arrive at six, dinner will be served at six thirty.” Jareth approached the Labyrinth door. Sarah placed a kiss atop Hoggle’s head and followed to the king’s side. “Ahem,” the king coughed.
Hoggle hadn’t moved, still frozen to the spot where he stood at Jareth’s invitation.
“Would you mind?” Jareth indicated to the doors.
“Huh?…Oh,” the dwarf swung an arm and the doors flew open. “This oughtta be interestin’!”
***** ***** *****
He had spoken true their first day out when he told her that without horses, they could easily master the Labyrinth in a couple of hours. Listening carefully to his instructions they reached the Goblin City by early evening. “I’m impressed,” she admitted when they were finally done scattering about and could more leisurely stroll through the city.
“My magic lives in the Labyrinth, it is not difficult to manipulate one’s self.”
“No, you called Hoggle by his name. That’s why I’m impressed.” Looking away shyly she added, “Thank you for inviting him to dinner. I know that you did that just for me.”
‘Mostly for her,’ he thought. “To be honest, I need someone to help me run this place while I’m seeing to your stay. Since he was the one to watch over things while I was Aboveground, I thought it best to ask him once more.”
“I see. Well I do hope that I’m not taking up too much of your time.”
“It is a necessary distraction,” he said flatly.
Sarah didn’t know whether to be offended or not. A trumpet blew very near where they walked keeping her from deciding. “The girl!! The girl!!” a goblin screamed as he ran round in circles. “Someone alert the king!”
Another cried out, “It’s your job to alert the king.”
“Right,” he agreed. “Yer majesty!” he shouted.
“Yes,” Jareth replied coolly.
“The girl!”
He was in the mood to play, “Which girl?”
“The mortal girl who returned to your Labyrinth.”
“What of her?”
“She’s returned…again.”
Jareth knelt to face the goblin, donning a look of feigned shock, he inquired, “Where?”
The goblin held up one hand to shield Sarah’s eyes and with the other hand pointed a finger in her direction. “She’s right there your majesty.”
Leaning into the goblin, Jareth cupped his ear and whispered, “I know. I’m the one who brought her here,” and then rose, his hands on his hips, his throat filled with laughter.
Bracing himself for a swift kick or hearty toss, the goblin waited. No retaliation came. Jareth continued to laugh as he and Sarah left the creature and continued toward the castle. Once at the doors, they were greeted by Arulan and two other elfin servants. “Welcome home your grace,” they said in unison with curtsies.
Jareth nodded and they rose. “Ladies, I present to you Sarah Williams. By order of the Triumvirate, she will be our guest for the next six weeks. I trust that you will all do everything within your power to make her feel at home.”
Arulan rushed to her side, “I’ve got the seamstress making you a wardrobe of clothes and Mason started on your room yesterday. It should be ready by week’s end. Oh, welcome home Sarah,” she cried as she flung her arms around the girl.
“Welcome home Lady Sarah,” the others said, again with the curtsies.
A tear gathered in the corner of her eye and Sarah took a deep breath trying to keep it there. “Thank you and please, just call me Sarah.”
“I’m sure our guest would like to freshen up,” Jareth told Arulan.
“Yes, your grace,” she said waving to the other women. “Take her to the king’s bath and let her get ready. You’ll find a wardrobe in his chambers with her clothes.” Arulan then turned to the king, “How was your trip?”
“You moved her clothes into my room?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I just assumed. It is the only bed in the castle where she could fit comfortably, unless you were to send her to the stables with Gribbin.”
Jareth smiled, “Our trip was educational. The Triumvirate has made quite the number of exceptions for this mortal. Pour us some tea and we’ll talk while she readies herself.”
Arulan looked at him puzzled by his willingness to share of himself. “Your majesty, you wish to talk with me?”
“Indeed I do Arulan,” he replied, reaching out his arm for her to take. “Tell me, would you say we were,” he paused, “friends?”
***** ***** *****
His servant sat in awe as Jareth told her how Sarah had displayed her magic before the Triumvirate. When he admitted the men had suggested Sarah stay in the castle, Arulan blushed and smiled widely. “You are a relentless woman,” the king admonished.
“Nothing is the same since her arrival, least of all you. I live in a fantasy world, my king, what kind of immortal would I be if I didn’t believe in happy endings.”
Jareth leaned in to place a kiss against her forehead, filling Arulan’s heart with happiness.
“Your grace,” he heard two distinct voices call. Jareth set down his tea cup and acknowledged the maids.
Sarah stood between them in a simple sheath dress the color of emeralds. Her hair had been brushed until it shone and cascaded over her shoulders obscuring the straps of the dress. Two silver combs pulled the sides back from her face, adding fullness while accentuating her natural beauty. Her lips, stained red, the only thing to be touched by make up. The smile she’d worn down the stairs to the sitting room had disappeared when she was lead inside to find Jareth kissing Arulan, no matter how innocently. She kept her mouth steady, lips pressed together, refusing to smile or frown. “Milady,” Jareth said with a bow, “won’t you join us for a cup of tea.”
Choosing a chair, rather than the settee where the king had been with Arulan, Sarah folded her legs neatly at the ankle and placed a napkin across her lap. One of the maids held her cup while the other poured. “Cream or sugar,” she asked.
“Both,” Sarah replied. “Thank you.”
Arulan sensed her discomfort, knowing the king would be too enthralled with her appearance, she decided to break the tension herself. “So Sarah, what did you think of the further reaches of the Underground.”
“It was all very lovely,” she said before sipping her tea, “and very charming.” When she spoke again her focus was on Jareth.
With the two of them so intensely focused on one another it was Arulan who now felt uncomfortable. “Yes, well I’m sure that you’ll find there are many beautiful,” the elf doubted by now that she was even listening, “areas in the kingdom.” Great relief befell the servant when the doorbell rang. “Thank the Supreme One,” she muttered
Arulan and the other two maids greeted the guest and brought him to the sitting room to be announced to the king, “Your grace, Deverell of Burggraaf.”
Jareth rose, brows knitted when a stranger had been announced. “Speak your business,” he commanded.
“Your majesty, I come at the request of the Cleric.” His hand thrust forward, a scroll in his palm. Jareth unrolled the document and skimmed it’s content. “You’ll find that his honor has asked me to join you in this time of upheaval that I may help you rule your kingdom until such time as you are no longer in need of my services. There are a number of glowing recommendations which I am happy to provide, but none so impressive as having been chosen by the Cleric himself. In Burggraaf I am known to be an honest and courageous fey. I have no desire to be king, not of Burggraaf and not of the Underground.” This was to attempt to reassure Jareth who was now looking him over carefully. Lowering to one knee, Deverell continued, “I have no doubt you will find me able, I only pray that you will deem me worthy, your grace.” That said he bowed his head to the king.
“Come, join us for tea,” Jareth told the fey. “Ladies, I expect that you will make arrangements for this guest as well. You are dismissed.”
“You accept my assistance?”
Jareth’s closed in on Deverell. “I trust no one,” he said coldly, “of course of those I doubt, I doubt the Cleric least. You come at his command, I will not refuse his gift.”
“At your command, my grace.”
Sarah poured him a cup of tea, smiling at him as she inquired, “Cream or Sugar?” He held his hand up to indicate ‘No, thank you,’ and returned her smile. Deverell was a rather striking fey. Long blonde hair gathered by a band at the back of his neck, warm brown eyes that were very expressive, all risen six feet from the ground by a broad body for which his tights and clinging shirt left little to be imagined.
Jareth rose his eyebrows at Sarah’s examination of the newcomer. “You will stay in the barn with Gribbin until we can ready a room for you. Tonight you will dine with the staff, tomorrow I will meet with you to discuss how I can best utilize your being here.”
“Absolutely,” he agreed. Then turning his attentions to the mortal, “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I do not recall that we were formally introduced. My name is Deverell.”
“Sarah,” she said accepting his hand.
“Sarah, what an uncommon name?”
“Not really, it’s very common…where I come from.”
“You? You are the mortal, the one who will rebuild the Underground?” He addressed the king, “This is the reason I’ve come to free your time? Alas, I should rethink my feelings on being king, your majesty. I see now that the benefits greatly outweigh the burdens.”
Sarah blushed. “Yes, well you’re not a king and you certainly shall not become one within my kingdom,” Jareth pointed out. “Now then, can you elaborate on your talents as well as you can your envy?”
“Quite,” Deverell countered. “In my kingdom, I maintain the daily business on behalf of the Triumvirate. I keep the records, serve as liaison to both the high counsel and the neighboring kingdoms, arrange trades, oversee new constructions…”
Jareth interrupted his laundry list of good deeds, “Can you fight?”
“Your majesty?”
“Can you fight? It is a greatly uncommon event for a mortal to reside in the Underground. I have my reasons to believe that her stay may not be thoroughly peaceful.” It was Tiberon who crossed his mind.
“I’m handy with a saber, but I have never fought in battle, merely in sport.”
“Then you will train. Until you can defend this kingdom, you are of little use to me.” The bells for dinner sounded. “Deverell, allow me to show you to the main dining hall. Sarah, you and I will take our supper in my office.”
“Why?” she questioned defiantly.
Deverell looked at the mortal in awe of her insolence. Clearing his throat, Jareth reiterated, “We will take our supper in my office.” He extend his elbow.
Sarah slid her hand through his arm obediently, “Yes your grace.”
***** ***** *****
The Goblin King opened the door to his office and extended his free arm to Sarah expecting her to walk through the threshold; however the mortal stood in the doorway, jaws parted, eyes wide. It was a beautiful room. On one wall a fireplace and a sitting area done in all burgundy, consisting of two arm chairs and a chesterfield sofa around a mahogany coffee table, all accented by Moroccan accessories. One whole wall was a built in bookcase with a ladder which slid along rails allowing you to reach to the top of the impressive display. The king’s desk matched the rest of the wood in the room, behind him a hug credenza and what Sarah assumed was a window hidden behind two drawn, wine colored, velvet curtains. Jareth smiled at her child like innocence. “Go on in,” he told her softly.
Sarah released his arm and entered the room, turning to see the wall that had eluded her from the doorway. There were two large oil paintings. It crossed her mind to ask Jareth who the male fey in the paintings were, but before she could ask, he was popping the cork to one of the champagne bottles which had been placed in a silver bucket in the corner of the room. Like lightning he downed two flutes before opening the second bottle and offering Sarah a glass, “I think it’s best if we see to it that you don’t drink from the enchanted bottle. Otherwise we might just begin old problems again.”
“Fine by me,” Sarah replied and the two clinked glass. Sarah hadn’t much cared for champagne in all the times she’d had it at weddings and cast parties, but this was sweet, the flavor different than any other she’d known. “Mmm,” she said finishing the glass.
Elegantly lined eyes rose when she did this before a gloved hand refilled her flute. Quietly, Arulan entered, leaving behind two dinner trays before excusing herself with no more than a curtsy. “It would appear as though dinner were served.” To test his magic, Jareth made a graceful sweeping motion of his arm and the trays were set before the two arm chairs, a roaring fire accompanying the meal. “Allow me,” he extended his arm to Sarah and this time when she fed her arm through, his glove clasped down on top of her fingers. She couldn’t resist looking at him from the corner of her eye. The king was returning to normal and it suited him well. When she noticed him looking back, Sarah turned down her eyes and tilted her head away. Jareth led her to her seat and unveiled her tray. Beneath the silver cover was a generous helping of prime rib, covered in a creamy horseradish sauce, snow peas and mashed potatoes. “Look,” Jareth chuckled, the champagne obviously effecting him by now, “something I didn’t have to kill. What a relief?” He assumed his seat beside her and they began to eat their meal.
Suddenly self conscious of every move she made, Sarah ate in delicately cut bite sized pieces and sipped at her champagne like a hummingbird gathering nectar. “Everything tastes delicious,” she said politely.
“I’m glad it’s to your liking,” the king responded. Wagging a finger the champagne bucket came to set on the small end table between. This disappointed Sarah because it obstructed her peripheral view of the king. “Your glass is nearly empty, allow me.” Jareth levitated the glass into his hand and poured the golden liquid to the brim. Refreshing his own glass, he held the flute high, waited for Sarah to reciprocate and toasted, “To the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” Both drank deeply from their glass.
When they’d both eaten all they could, the king snapped his fingers sending the trays away to the kitchen. “Oh,” he called out, spinning on the pointed toe of one of his boots, “this is divine. Sarah,” he said crouching down before her, “wish for something.”
The mortal’s lips parted and she waited for words to fall, but they refused come. For the first time in as long as she could remember, there was nothing to wish for. “I…I…” she stuttered.
“Yes, you wish…”
“I don’t know what to wish for.”
“Wish for anything, absolutely anything.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, her lips searching for the rim of her flute. “I don’t want anything.”
“From me is it? You don’t want anything from me?” He stood and walked away from her, hurt and angry.
“No.” Smoothing some wrinkles from her skirt she tried to avoid his glare, “There is nothing I need which you have not provided me and,” alcohol had a way of bringing truth to the surface, “there is nothing I want that could make me any happier, at least not right now.” She’d added that last bit on in an effort to distract the king from her admission of satisfaction with him.
For a moment he kept his gaze on her. Not a raised eyebrow or the turn of a lip to indicate that he had even heard her reply. A wave of his hand and a perfectly round crystal perched upon his fingertips. Tossing it to her, he slurred, “Take a look in that and I’m sure you’ll see something you want.”
Still fairly dexterous, despite the amount of alcohol she had consumed, Sarah caught the orb, not daring to look into to it, for fear of what she’d see. Instead she rolled it over the back of her hand, twirling it this way and that as if it were a piece of her hair she’d decided to twist out of frustration.
“Who taught you that?”
“No one. Guess I kind of picked it up on my own.”
Not willing to be out done, Jareth produced four more crystals. Three spun in the palm of his hand while one rode on top. “Bet you can’t do this,” he challenged. Jareth produced three more crystals and blew them across the room to his mortal.
Sarah caught the crystals, balanced three in her palm, topping those off with the one she’d already been manipulating and tried to get them to spin. Though she put forth an admirable effort, her palm was much smaller than the king’s and her fingers could not span the bottom of the crystal pyramid. The orbs went bouncing to the ground tinkling as they did so. Jareth snorted. On her knees, Sarah crawled after the wayward orbs. The champagne had rendered her unable to stand and she began to wonder how Jareth, who had completely polished off his bottle and was now on his second glass from hers, was still able to stand let alone work those crystals of his.
One of the orbs to escape Sarah’s palm had rolled across the room beneath one of the oil paintings. Curiosity controlled her when she noticed the glint of a golden plate on the frame. Seems they had both been labeled, upon closer inspection. Sarah read the gold plates below the paintings and asked Jareth, “Who are they?”
“Darien is my grandfather. His father, Oberon, was the first true king of the Underground. He had those paintings done and hung in this room, where they have remained ever since. Corwyn was Darien’s brother.” Jareth left it at that.
“But Corwyn was older than Darien, according to these plates.” Sarah ran a finger across Corwyn’s name plate and a quick flash of a male fey, she assumed it was Darien’s father, appeared before her eyes. Inside she felt a strong love and a sharp pain. Her breath hitched in her throat. “Why wasn’t he king?”
“I never said he wasn’t king.” Jareth’s eyes narrowed and he looked at her intently, noticing her look of concentration.
“He was king, but not for very long. There was a great tragedy and that was when,” Sarah pulled her hand away from the plate and gasped, “Darien took over.”
“Sarah?”
With a sadness that she could not imagine her eyes fell on Jareth, “That poor man, he lost his first born son.”
Immediately the king hoisted up the bottle of champagne to ensure that he had been serving her from the correct one. “Sarah,” he closed in on her, “how do you know these things?”
“It started before I left Aboveground, started with a watch. When I held it I saw the man who bought it,” she half lied attempting to keep Jareth from knowing what Christian had done to her. “Then when I got here it happened with Hoggle, then and with April and again when I was in your bed.” ‘Oops,’ her mind said as the last location slipped out.
At first it escaped him, what she had just said, “You’ve got sight.”
“Twenty, twenty, thank you,” she said trying to be coy.
“No, I mean you’re a seer. That’s uncommon, even here.”
“It’s painful,” she said raising her hand to her temple.
Jareth’s soggy brain started to string her words together, “So that’s how you knew about April.” Sarah nodded. The king looked at her a devilish grin beginning to manipulate his lips, “And what did you see in my bed?”
Nerves drove her to refill her glass with the last of what was left of the champagne. She wet her throat with a sip of the liquid, it had suddenly gone very dry. “You snore,” she said the last of her quick wit leaving her as she set about to find the other crystals that had toppled away.
On all fours, Sarah peered beneath the couch. Jareth looked on, pleased at the way the thin fabric of her dress hugged her backside. He could tell the mortal was growing more comfortable with the ways of the Underground, for no panty line disrupted the smooth flow of the fabric. When she resurfaced, Sarah had recovered two more of the kings crystals. Rotating them between her two palms, Sarah began to laugh.
“What is it?” Jareth asked.
“I was just wondering about something.”
“Yes,” he cocked an eyebrow.
“I was just wondering what Arulan would say if she caught me playing with your balls.” Again, she erupted with hysterical laughter.
The double meaning of her query did not escape the king, “She would most probably be thrilled.”
Sarah tossed the crystals back to him and he made them each promptly disappear. “Oh, please, spare me,” she said struggling to her feet. “I don’t want to hear about your sexual exploits.” Jareth caught her in his arms as she stumbled back. For a minute she thought she saw something in the enlarged pupil of his left eye, but she dismissed it as being the result of too much champagne. Her eyes narrowed on him, “How many woman have you been with anyway?”
“A few,” he began.
“That’s a perfectly ambiguous answer now isn’t it,” Sarah huffed.
“Hundred,” Jareth finished.
“A few hundred,” she repeated, shock filled her tone.
“This month,” he tried to hold back a laugh, but failed when he saw the look on the mortal’s face. Tiny hands swatted at his chest when she realized he was teasing. “Does that some how seem surprising to you?”
“I guess not, if I think about it, if my brain weren’t so soaked in alcohol that I could do the math. 365 days a year for about 200 years, times five or six woman at once.”
Jareth laughed deeply, “You give me too much credit. My exploits are far from nightly and I have never taken more than one woman to my bed at a time.” Unconsciously he’d begun running one hand along her spine, “Is there something about that scenario you find intriguing?”
“No,” she said nervously. “I just assumed, you being king and all, you would be prone to the occasional indulgence.”
“Even before I was king, I did not need a harem of woman to satisfy me. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to learn that I only need one.”
“Oh,” Sarah managed only the one syllable before he pulled her close and occupied her lips. Her mind swam. ‘Only one woman,’ she thought. ‘Arulan. The woman who waited on his every need. Probably the woman whose experiences she had shared in Jareth’s bed. But then why would he jeopardize his relationship to succumb to the physical attraction they admitted for one another and satisfy her desire for him, merely because she was visiting the Underground? To hell with it,’ Sarah decided when she felt Jareth’s tongue probe her mouth, find her tongue and glide over it. She responded with a fervor of her own. Blonde strands filled her fingertips as her hands left his shoulders, rose along the side of his neck and settled under his jaw where she could feel his muscles propelling his mouth to massage her own. ‘A few hundred woman,’ she thought. The number no longer surprised her.
Still able to taste the champagne that lingered on her lips, Jareth felt even more drunk as he kissed her. It wasn’t until he felt another piece of his soul slipping away that he realized his lowered inhibitions were allowing him to kiss her with love in his heart. A bit too late, he broke the kiss. “It’s late. You should go to bed.”
“I’m not a child, Jareth, I can stay up passed midnight.”
“You’re going to have one hell of a headache in the morning, trust me, you’ll be thankful I forced you to get the extra rest.”
Sarah let her head fall against his shoulder, “Did you make them all beg for you? All your hundreds of conquests?”
Scooping her up he transported them to his chambers. Tossing back the duvet, he lay her on the bed, “Goodnight Sarah.”
“Jareth,” she reached for his hand.
Sitting beside her he smoothed over her long black hair with his glove, “Yes.”
“Be with me.” Doe eyes looked up at him.
“Not tonight.” Sarah’s face washed over with hurt, “It would be considered less than honorable for me to take advantage of your current condition.”
She propped up on her elbows, “What condition?” she demanded. “It’s not like I’m tied to your bed posts, unable to escape, although, it’s something to think about. I know what I want Jareth and I want you.”
“Something to think about indeed,” he smiled down at her. “In fact, why don’t you close those foggy green eyes of yours and think about it. In fifteen minutes, if you decide you still,” he cleared his throat, “want me, I will oblige.”
“Sucker,” Sarah told him as she closed her eyes and lay her head back on his pillow.
It was less than five minutes later that her chest settled into a steady rise and fall, the sounds of sleep reverberating in her windpipe. Jareth tucked the covers around her, “Alcohol,” he said, “ironic that it should so increase one’s desire when it dramatically decreases one’s ability.”
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