THE CONCLUSION
“Here we are,” Tiberon said as they reached the dried out stream bed. “Work your magic.”
Sarah breathed deep, remaining calm was key. She learned that yesterday. In her mind she pictured a window, her on the inside looking out and it was raining, as it always seemed to do where she lived as a girl. One droplet went racing down the glass, joining with another, gathering weight, traveling faster and joining with another still until it seemed as if the entire mass of aggregate droplets had mustered together into a raging stream along the pane. “Open your eyes,” Jareth told her.
The bed was filled with water flowing along like liquid sky. Kicking off a sandal, Sarah dipped in her toes. Jareth watched, flashbacks of the waterfall playing tricks with his mind. “It’s not even cold,” she marveled.
“Will you never cease to amaze me, my angel?” Tiberon asked Sarah.
She only looked at him. What was that supposed to mean? “Jareth taught me otherwise. I wouldn’t be able to help anyone.”
Tiberon approached his fellow fey “How can I thank you then?”
“Thank me?”
“Yes, for bringing me this miracle.”
“Don’t thank me. I was ordered to bring her here by the Triumvirate, if it weren’t for them I’d never have let her step foot here.”
Tiberon smirked, “Then I shall write them a letter, expressing my gratitude. I shall shout it from the tree tops. Thank the Supreme One for Sarah Williams.”
Sarah paid him no mind, only stared at her reflection in the water, “Like a mirror isn’t?” She saw pools of violet inside the blue.
“More like one of Jareth’s crystals,” she replied.
Tiberon’s lips curled, “Right, you’re right.”
Sarah didn’t see Tiberon’s image with his lip held tight in an arc, didn’t hear the way he conceded to agree with her. She was busily thinking about what it was that Maeve and Jareth had done here, perhaps in this very spot. It was scenic, the kind of place she thought two people could get overcome by certain urges. “I’m feeling tired, do you think we could go back now?”Sarah asked, wanting to be away from this place where she was reminded of Maeve’s tasteless tales.
“Absolutely,” Jareth agreed stepping up to them. The three walked back to Tiberon’s castle where Sarah watched the men engage in a game of chess. For as much concentration that went into every move she would have swore that Jareth’s kingdom hung in the balance. On several occasions one of them would take over ten minutes just to move a single pawn. After lunch, Jareth suggested that Tiberon take Sarah to this flowerbed that had yet to bloom. Of course, Tiberon objected saying he had planned to take her there after supper. Jareth reminded him of how weary she had grown yesterday and told him that were such a thing to happen again, he would hold the Representative fully responsible.
“Then I suppose we should go now before it grows to late. We can always have dinner when we get back.”
“Good,” Jareth told him. “That being settled I’m heading back to the castle. I’ll be back to collect the mortal as night falls. If you run in to any trouble have Hoggle sent for me.” At no time during this parting speech did he look at Sarah, for if he had, he would have found himself unable to leave. Rather he said what was to be said and vanished.
“Well milady, care to meet your next challenge.” Sarah took Tiberon’s arm and allowed him to lead her back into the woods. Her smile was faint. Suddenly, without Jareth she felt incredibly ill at ease alone with Tiberon. The walked on passed the village, which overnight had filled with new residents, down the paths, along the stream for nearly two miles. It was a beautiful walk. Everything lush and green in every direction. Butterflies filling the sky and birds singing down from the tree tops. The temperature just right, not hot, not chilly. The sleeveless green dress she’d chosen, was quite adequate for the weather. Along their way Tiberon talked and Sarah humored him by not interrupting and smiling when he laughed. But she had very little to say. He tried to ask her questions, forcing her to get involved in the conversation. Most of his questions were about Jareth or his kingdom and Sarah’s answers were often short when she had answers at all. He was asking her things she didn’t know, couldn’t possibly. About his armies and about his business practices. She didn’t like it
Relief swept over her in the breeze as they came upon the flowerbed. It wasn’t hard to pick out the damaged spot, a see of mangled dried stems and leaves in the middle of such healthy green would have been like spotting an elephant in the living room. “I don’t understand,” the Representative said. “I’ve had elves bringing water to them everyday and yet they refuse to grow for me.”
Sarah didn’t understand how it was that he’d have gotten elves through the overgrown path with buckets of water or where they’d have gotten the water to fill the buckets without the stream. Surely they weren’t filled at the castle faucets and dragged all this way by petite elves. From what she had noticed he had only woman elves at his dispose and only four, no five, of them. Regardless, she closed her eyes and pictured a garden. The garden the Leanan Sidhe had planted for her dead husband. She tried to recall each type of flower that had grown there, it’s precise color, the feel of it’s petals in her finger tips. She thought about the cool damp soil below and the sweet caressing sun above. When she heard Tiberon’s child like laughter, Sarah opened her eyes.
“You’ve done it ” He announced gleefully. “You are more than just the legend these creatures have made you, you are a marvel, in this world or in any other.” Before the mortal could finish admiring the gigantic blooms that had newly sprouted before her, she was swept into his arms, hoisted high once more and spun until she was dizzy. “Sarah, how can I ever repay you for what you’ve done for me, for my sector.” Then his lips were upon hers. A powerful kiss that threw her head back. A passionate kiss she felt obligated to return, for when someone kissed you with that kind of intensity, it was almost rude not return their affections.
She broke the kiss awkwardly when thoughts of Jareth began to overwhelm her with guilt. “We should be heading back. I’m feeling a bit weak from...”
“Say no more, love,” Tiberon told her, assuming it was his kiss that had weakened her when in fact it had been the magic. Encircling her waist with his arm he guided Sarah back to his castle. It made her somewhat uncomfortable, but Sarah didn’t argue, only relied on him for support where her shaking legs could give her none.
Once they arrived at his home, the fey convinced her to lie down in the room he had prepared for her, just until she felt strong enough to join him for dinner. Peculiar enough she found bed clothes laid out for her when she arrived. On the edge of the bed she sat with the white chemise in her hand. Oh, Tiberon was charming, just as beguiling as Jareth told her he could be. And she had fallen for it. Defended him, trusted him and she saw now what it had gotten her. Nightfall couldn’t come soon enough. If she had some way she’d call for Jareth now. Instead she fell asleep with the gown in her hand.
Dreams filled her head in the hours that passed, dreams of a redheaded woman, dreams of Maeve. Sarah prayed Jareth wouldn’t make a cameo appearance. She watched as Maeve laughed and danced, spun about the room, this room by an unseen party. The look on her face one of shear joy. Her head tossed back and Sarah was given the impression of lips upon her neck. Not Jareth’s, she knew the feel of Jareth’s lips against her throat and this wasn’t it. Black hair soon proved her point as she saw it linger on Maeve’s pale skin. Violet eyes settled on hers and any question that remained was quieted. It had been Tiberon with Maeve in this room. ‘Dear God,’ Sarah thought, ‘please wake me up, please ’ Mercifully sleep released it’s hold on the mortal. She sat up in the bed and pondered why Maeve would make her self so blatantly available to the king when she had obviously had Tiberon, and if Sarah was guessing, Ranofyr too. This settled it, Tiberon was not to be trusted. His involvement with Maeve, his constant questions about Jareth. He was up to no good and Sarah wouldn’t be a part of it. “Let me just make it to sun down,” she prayed aloud. “Just until Jareth can get here.”
Tiberon entered her room through the door to the bath that lie between their chambers. “I see you’re awake. Feeling better?” Sarah faked a yawn and shook her head. “Then allow me to accompany to you dinner milady.”
While she slept, the dream had revealed much to the mortal, she knew now that the fey who Hoggle and the king had tried to warn her about had yet to rear his ugly head. Tiberon needed to be handled with kid gloves, at least for the last few hours of the day. In the dining room, he pulled out her chair. Set before her was an empty plate and a full goblet of wine. Tiberon took his seat at the head of the table, he rang a bell and his maids brought dinner a course at a time. From hors d’oeuvres through to desert they engaged in idle chit chat. Sarah did her best to keep him off the topics like Jareth, Jareth’s castle, the Underground and its armies.
By the time she was brought a helping of peach cobbler, Sarah suddenly began to feel very tired. The room began to spin and she held her head. Once before she had felt this same way. Green eyes began to close as she pleaded for some sort of help. Just before the room went black, she thought she saw Tiberon sneer.
***** ***** *****
As promised Jareth arrived on Tiberon’s doorstep precisely as night fell. He knocked once upon the door. No one answered. Patiently, which was rare for Jareth, he stood a moment or two, then knocked again, harder this time. It was the Representative who met him at the door, clad in a black smoking jacket, his hair tousled, eyes sleepy. “No doorman Tiberon.”
“I am a humble fey Jareth. I am no king.” He rose his hands to smooth back his hair. “Besides, in my generosity I have given my staff the evening to themselves.”
“I don’t particularly care. I have come to collect my mortal. Bring her to me.”
“Oh, yes, well I’m afraid that isn’t terribly convenient right now. She’s resting.”
Jareth edged his way into the castle, “Convenience has never been a high priority of mine. It is night fall and I have come to collect my mortal. I won’t leave without her so whatever it is you have planned is officially ended.” His eyes scanned the great hall before the king headed to the dining room, what little patience he had, now spent.
“You won’t find her there.”
Like an aggravated viper, the king turned on him, “Where will I find her?”
Tiberon pointed upstairs, a self satisfied grin manipulating his lips. It was all the encouragement Jareth needed. His long legs took the stairs three to a gait, the heals of his boots tapping on the stone and echoing in the emptiness all around them. It had occurred to him to burst open every door until he found her, but instead, on a hunch, he marched to the end of the hall and threw open Tiberon’s chamber door. His mortal lie beneath the duvet. Immediately the king recognized the gentle creamy curve of her shoulder. By then the Representative was already in the doorway behind him. “I told you this wasn’t terribly convenient.”
Never looking at him, Jareth only waved his hand, materializing a blanket and walked slowly to the bed. Pulling back the duvet he scanned her naked body from head to toe. So beautiful, so perfect, the kind of beauty that Tiberon could never appreciate, the kind of perfection he would never have deserved. Covering her in the blanket, Jareth hoisted her into his arms. Her head lulled side to side as though she were in a deep sleep. When he passed the Representative, Tiberon couldn’t resist the urge to make one final pointed comment. “I told her it had been a hard day with all the magic she had used. Tried to reassure her that we had all the time in the world to, well you know what I’m getting at, but she insisted.”Though the Representative tried his best to get in Jareth’s way, to force him to meet his violet eyes, the king had a mission from which he refused to wave. As he descended the stairs, Sarah’s eyes fluttered open. She nuzzled against his neck and whispered his name. It broke his heart to hear this now, when she had just been with Tiberon. He walked with more purpose, longer strides, prepared to walk her all the way back to the castle, the weight of her limp body no more encumbering than air. “Ah, your majesty,” Tiberon called just as he was pulling open the front door, “I trust you’ll be back in the morning. After all the order of the Triumvirate does say that I have rights to her for a minimum of forty-eight hours.”
Finally ready to meet his stare with a rather stern mismatched blue steely gaze of his own Jareth lowered his voice to a growl. “You have no right to this woman, you never did. And as long as my blood flows iron free, you won’t ever again. Not the Triumvirate, not the Supreme One himself will ever convince me otherwise.”
“Where will you take her?”
“I’m taking her home.” Wits about him once again, Jareth transported them both to the castle, tucking her safely into her bed and calling upon Arulan to see that she was dressed appropriately.
Back at his castle Tiberon returned to his second story. Rather than entering his suite he entered the room which had been set aside for Sarah in the first place. “Well,” came a voice from deep beneath the covers on the bed.
“The king is convinced,” he responded.
“You must have given quite the performance.”
Tiberon pounced on the bed, covering Maeve’s face in quick hungry kisses. “Without you to help me appear to be a fey who had just engaged in a satisfying pursuit and capture of a wild, spirited woman, I couldn’t have done it.”
“You’re welcome,” she told him returning his kiss. “Anything I can do to remind Jareth that ours was the last real love he would ever know.”
“But I thought you didn’t really love him?”
“He didn’t give me time to realize that I really loved him,” she pouted.
Tiberon looked down his nose at her, “You sure you don’t just want him now because at long last he wants someone else again.”
“You’re a fine one to criticize a person who hungers for the things the king has.”
“Ah, but for right now, it is not the king who has you. As of this minute, you are all I want.” His lips covered hers as he pulled the duvet back over her head.
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