Sure, it still happened that these letters happened into the wrong hands and words got said which were not meant. A few copies of that handsomely bound red leather bound book were floating about and Jareth always had to issue the challenge to conquer the Labyrinth or surrender the child. There were those who rose to the challenge and others who did little more than shed tears, but the rules were what the rules were. While many things Underground continued to change, words still had great meaning and fey still had a reputation when it came to babies.
Over the years, only one thing grew more difficult for Sarah, while all other aspects of being a royal seemed to ease for her. Watching parents who had been blessed with children shirk all responsibility for their offspring, casting them aside like Christmas gifts which no longer stimulated their desires, laying hands upon them as if they were without feeling and worse kinds of abuse she still had to refuse to acknowledge for her own sanity. Each child they took reminded Sarah of the child she would never have and no greater pain had ever stabbed her heart.
As were all things in the Underground what the situation seemed to be, was not always what it truly was. Late on a Tuesday evening, Sarah and Jareth received simultaneous calls. One from a young babysitter who had managed to unintentionally wish away her employers 4 month old baby girl and one from a home where a woman in her mid-thirties who had an abuse husband wanted to give away her baby boy because the husband beat the child. Naturally, Sarah left it to her husband to take the accidental summoning. He had a better demeanor for dealing with the facts and matters of the situation. Before they left the Underground for their Aboveground obligations, they embraced in a passionate kiss.
“I love you my darling,” Jareth told her. “I believe in what you’re doing for these children. That it causes you pain devastates me, but I find it hard to pick another gentle hand capable of doing what you do.”
“I love you my king,” she replied. Tears fell before she spoke even one more word. “I know what I do is worthwhile. I know they need me, but everyday I resent what the Triumvirate had made me sacrifice, but then I am reminded of all I have gained for it.” Here she touched him gently on the arm. “You make me whole, even when I feel empty.”
“Be safe love,” he told Sarah before he left. She nodded to acknowledge his wish and then transported herself.
***** ***** *****
When she arrived in the Aboveground, she found herself in the middle of a shabbily set up apartment, a woman she could only suspect was the one who had summoned her. It took only a moment to see that the woman was crying as she sat at a fold out card table in the corner of a kitchen. When she looked up she saw the Goblin Queen. Sarah’s look had changed rather a lot as queen. Her hair was fuller and more meticulously done, her eye make up more dramatic, touched with a hint of gold, sparkles on her eyelashes. Her gowns were still Elizabethan in nature, bell sleeves, long hem lines, tight waists, but they were darker, more like Jareth’s in color and texture and about her neck always was the crest.
“You’re her aren’t you?” the woman whimpered between sniffs. “You’re the Goblin Queen.”
Gracefully, Sarah bowed her head. “I am.”
“Well, just take him. Take him from me and leave,” she shouted.
“May I ask your name?” Sarah pressed, kneeling to her level.
Her eyes took in the queen, the sincerity on her face, the genuine compassion in her eyes. None of which she had ever expected. “Ashley.”
“Ashley,” Sarah repeated, her hand stroking the woman’s hair. “Tell me what’s happened to bring you to this extreme.”
“Look, can’t you just take him before I change my mind.”
“I’m afraid there will be no changing your mind. My staff,” the queen found it easier to refer to the goblins this way, “have already provided me with a thorough detail to prove the child is in desperate need of removal, but part of what we like to do is to try and heal the parent about to separate from its child, if such a thing is possible. It is my belief that your reaction indicates that you can be healed.”
“Healed. You feel like you can heal me. I have a perfect son, a beautiful seven month old baby boy and the only option that I have to keep him safe is to remove him from the situation.” Ashley’s tears fell like rain, “Do you know what it’s like to give up your child to keep him safe?”
“As a matter of fact,” Sarah told her, “I know precisely what it’s like. But what you must realize is that you’re giving him a chance, not just giving him away. He’ll be placed with a new family, one in which he’ll flourish.”
“How can you be sure?”
“My staff and I oversee all of our placements,” Sarah confided.
Ashley wiped her eyes, suddenly beginning to feel trust in the woman who had come to rescue her little boy. Part of those feelings were generated by the queen’s easy nature and the rest may have been her aura of magic at work. “Would you like to meet him?”
“Absolutely,” Sarah said. She followed the mother down the hall to a back bedroom. Her fey senses made her alert to a few things immediately. All of the windows were closed and yet a windchime in the corner tinkled away. “Is that a mobile?” she asked.
“No, just a chime. We weren’t really trying to get pregnant and so a lot of Freddie’s things aren’t really for children.”
It was true. Sarah noticed when she was told that, an alarm clock wrapped in a sock, placed in the crib and a stack of mismatched cloth scraps she was using for diapers. When she commented on the clock, Ashley explained she had seen the same thing done with puppies and small animals for comfort. Peering into the crib, Sarah couldn’t see any signs of distress in the child. He seemed to be resting peacefully, breathing normally. The weight of the stare was enough to wake him and as he came to, the chimes stopped. Sarah focused on the tiny brown eyes that looked back at her, studying, searching, trying desperately to find evidence of what she expected.
“May I hold him?” she asked. Ashley consented and with little Freddie in her arms the queen asked, “Make the chimes ring for me.” Several seconds later they rang. Sarah walked him to the light, but the dilation fo his pupils did not change. “His eyes...” she began to ask, but Ashley interrupted.
“His father shakes him,” she admitted. “He gets frustrated because he thinks Freddie gets into his things and he refuses to listen to me when I try to explain that he can barely crawl. As it is the kid has to stay in his crib whenever my husband is home. Anyway, the doctors say the eye damage is caused by the shaking. That’s when I knew I had to call you.” She watched her son with Sarah for a few minutes, “You have a real way with him.”
“I handle children all the time,” she tried to reassure Ashley.
Shaking her head vehemently, the mother said emphatically, “No, it’s not just how you handle him. It’s how he’s looking at you, responding to you. I’ve never seen him so alert.”
Without explaining it to the mortal, Sarah knew it was their magics communicating even when their lips stayed still. What surprised her more than the interaction, was the fact that the mortal recognized it. In fact, the keen sense, put Sarah on edge. “Are you comfortable staying here?”
“Why?” Ashley asked, “Are you going to take me Underground with you?”
“I’m afraid that cannot be.”
“I’m fine. He’s not physical with me. He’s just all talk.”
Her sense told her the woman was being honest. “We should go then,” Sarah told her handing Freddie over for goodbyes.
“My sweet boy. Be good. Grow big and strong and have all the happiness I couldn’t give you. Mommy loves you,” her tears came then as she made her last admission, “no matter what you think, mommy has always and will always love you.” Freddie cooed in his mother’s arms and Sarah felt the room grow cold. “It’s getting close to the time my husband comes home. You should be gone before he gets here.” She handed Freddie back to Sarah and began to lead her out. “Goblin Queen?”
“Please, my name is Sarah.”
“Sarah. I like that name,” Ashley smiled for the first time. “Being that I am his mother, can I make a request for his adoption.”
“You may tell me what you wish, but I cannot guarantee I will be able to grant your wishes, nor am I at liberty to discuss your child’s future with you once I leave.”
“I know, but I was wondering, if I could pick a mother for Freddie, well, I’d choose you.” Sarah had no response. “You seem to understand him and he’s taken to you so quickly. If you and the king don’t have too many of your own, do you suppose you could take Freddie. I’d feel better knowing he was with you.”
What was there to say to an inconsolable woman making the kind of sacrifice Ashley was making when all she ask was to have her son left with a familiar face, someone she could trust. Without thinking Sarah admitted, “The king and I have no children of our own.”
“Then you’ll take him!” She threw her arms about the queen. “You’ll raise my son. Thank you, thank you!” Tears of joy replaced the stains of the ones that had been cried when Sarah arrived.
“I will do my best.”
“Your best,” Ashley looked at her confused. “But your queen, don’t you get to tell everybody else what to do?”
“Even a queen has her superiors. The program I run Underground is fairly progressive, this sort of thing has never been bridged before.” Sarah’s mind was working overtime, “But it would be a great privilege to raise this boy.” She smiled at Freddie. “I will do everything in my power.” Sarah lay a hand on Ashley’s arm and they nodded in agreement to one another.
A key turned in he door and Ashley jumped, “Go now, before he sees you. Take good care of my boy.” As quick as she came, Sarah disappeared, baby in tow.
***** ***** *****
The goblins were waiting for Sarah when she returned. “Your grace, the child?” they asked.
“Huh?” Sarah was still somewhat disoriented by the exchanged.
“Shall we take it to the nursery for you?”
“No, no,” she told them. “I’ve made a special promise to the child’s mother. He’s to remain in my company his first night Underground.”
“Aye mum,” they agreed and scattered off.
Sarah and Freddie sat in the castle foyer. She made a crystal and gave it to him. He gazed deeply into it and smiled. Then with a gentle touch well beyond is years, Freddie caused the crystal to levitate before him, clapping his hands at his own amusement. “You do have magic, don’t you?” Sarah asked. Freddie wiggled his head madly, seeming to nod as though he understood her completely.
“Hello love,” Jareth said as he popped in causing Sarah to gasp. “And who have we here?” he asked chucking Freddie’s chin.
“He’s our latest acquisition,” Sarah explained.
Jareth continued to fuss over the boy, fascinated by him even though he was physically no different than any other child they had collected. “Hear that? You’re an acquisition. The mean old queen has no regard for your feelings does she? No she doesn’t.” Just then he noticed the crystal. “Sarah, put that thing away. He’s obviously got no interest in it.”
“I’m not doing it.”
“Oh, would you have me believe that he’s doing it then?” Jareth turned his attentions to the baby once more. “Now she’s blaming you for leaving crystals out. Isn’t that the silliest thing...” Jareth struggled for a name. “How do they call you boy?” he wondered out loud. The crystal began to glow bright gold and wildly dance in the air. When again it came to rest the sky was ignited with lettering. The king read the word carefully. “Freddie. OK, so your name is Freddie. Well Freddie, how do you feel about being the brunt of blame for our que...en...” He stood up quickly, making his head feel even lighter. “Sarah,” he called. “Did you do that?”
Sarah was busy pulling books from a shelf down the hall. When she heard him shout she returned to the foyer. “What are you blaming me for now?” Jareth only pointed. “Freddie. Yes, that’s his name. Freddie.” She said it as if it were nothing fantastic at all.
“Of course, one more question, how in the shaft of hands did he manage that?”
“I was trying to tell you. He’s magic Jareth, mortal magic. He was terribly misunderstood in his world, abused, neglected. His mother ask that I take him away and she asked one other thing.” Jareth didn’t so much as blink wondering what that second request may be. “She asked that we raise him Jareth, raise him as our own.” He stared at her, absorbing the situation, not comprehending any of the bits she was giving him. “It was the strangest thing. I could see it immediately, but the mortal was keener than most. She sensed immediately an odd connection between me and her child, and his eyes...” Her words got speedier as Sarah continued to explain, “...look at his eyes. The doctors told her it was a result of the shaking, but Jareth it’s something more. I’m telling you he’s got magic.”
“Us...raise...him,” Jareth said slowly, more to savor the idea than to express his confusion by it, “but our promise to the Triumvirate.”
“He is no child of our own, not our flesh, not our blood. Like any other child left here, he will be made a mythical, a full blood at that. The Triumvirate should be happy about that.”
“Should be, but the Triumvirate is happy about very little, Sarah.”
“Well I’ve got to try Jareth. I’ve got to,” tears flooded her eyes as she went on. “He’s a magic child and there aren’t many mortal homes that will give him the patience and understanding he’ll need. Of all people, I ought to know how cruel the mortal world would be to him.”
Taking his wife into his arms, “Love, there is nothing that would please me more than to give you this child, but the decision is not mine to make.” He felt her sob against his chest. “I will send word to the Triumvirate immediately requesting a counsel, but I don’t think you should get your hopes up.”
In complete rebellion for his warning Sarah allowed her heart to soar. After all, a heart without hope may as well have been a heart without a beat.
***** ***** *****
The new workings of the Underground kept the Triumvirate very busy and despite Jareth’s expressions of urgency, they replied to his request for counsel saying it would be ten days before they could meet. For ten days and ten nights, Freddie stayed with them. The couple played with him, saw to his feedings, his baths, his changes all firsthand without employing a wet nurse or nanny. “Jareth,” Arulan said after a week of observing them with the child, “a word if you please.”
“Yes, Arulan.”
“Son, I feel it my obligation to ask a question of you, but I fear you will find it a great offense rather than the deep concern it is meant to be.”
“Ask what you will.”
The elf sat with him, Freddie was balanced on his knee a stuffed patchwork fiery in his hand. One of the two orange button eyes had been chewed off. “I’m afraid,” she began, “you might be getting too attached to this wee one.” Even Arulan couldn’t resist him or the way he would smile at her when she handed him the napkin swans she was used to folding.
“I know he may not be ours forever, but he’s ours for now. I’m perfectly ready to hand him over when the time comes,” Jareth said staunchly.
Arulan brushed back a hair that covered his eye. “I said the same thing when I was given a young boy to care for. Trust me when I tell you I had far better reason to believe he would never be taken from me than you and have with young master Freddie. But the day came when I thought he would be taken from and I had already hopelessly fallen in love with the child.”
“You and I were together a far cry longer than ten days before mother returned,” he smiled knowingly.
“So we were,” Arulan conceded. “But it didn’t take me ten minutes to fall in love with you Jareth and you look at this babe in the exact manner I once looked at you.” Arulan stood, kissing first Freddie’s crown and then Jareth’s. “I do so pray they give you bot the child you deserve, that they give him the parents so desperately needs, but I worry so for your hearts if my prayers are not answered.”
Jareth nodded as the elf excused herself. When she was in the hall, he pulled Freddie close. “You are the answer to a lot of prayers little man and I have never wanted so for my answer to be a correct one.” His lips pressed to Freddie’s forehead. Rather than return the affections of his surrogate, the baby grabbed the king’s hair and pulled down sharply, giggling harder when Jareth winced.
***** ***** *****
Each night while Jareth readied for bed, Sarah knelt by Freddie’s crib and prayed to the Supreme One as well as her mortal god to grant them this child to raise as if he were their own, but even with all of her faith, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was too much to ask for a prince when she had already been given a king.
Joining her husband in bed, they would lie in one another’s arms watching the child in his crib. Many nights he would amuse himself to sleep and for the most part slept a good number of consecutive hours. They both wondered how any set of mortal parents could be disturbed by him. “Have you thought about what we’ll call him when he’s ours?”
“Sarah,” Jareth admonished.
“You have. Don’t bother lying. I found the parchment in your office.”
Caught, he confessed, “I will admit I have considered both my great uncle’s name as well as my father’s.”
“Ian,” Sarah said aloud. “Ian is the perfect name for him.”
From the crib came two syllables separated by a great pause, “I....an, I.....an.”
“I think he likes it,” Jareth observed. Sarah smiled, ever amazed at how far beyond his age the baby seemed to behave.
***** ***** *****
“So much trouble over such a little thing,” Jareth groaned as they prepared to go before the Triumvirate. He watched Sarah change and dress the baby, gather his things, change him again and when at last they were prepared to go...he spit up on himself and required dressing yet again.
“Trouble well worth the effort,” she added as they stood close together and prepared to transport to the mountain.
Looking at the joy on his wife’s face he agreed.
***** ***** *****
“I know why you’ve come,” the Gavel said when they entered, “and be it a tragedy, it is nonetheless beyond your control.”
Turning to face the trio, Jareth and Sarah shared a puzzled expression which spread to the Gavel’s face as he observed the child in their arms. “What tragedy?” the king asked.
“You’re not here for Tiberon are you?” the Sage asked, innocently revealing more than he meant to.
“Tiberon?” Sarah asked.
It was the Cleric who replied, “Don’t worry child. He is far beyond able to hurt you now. His fate has been decided.”
The queen continued to eye him warily, waiting for some news that would bring her the confidence the Cleric had. “How so?”
“He has passed,” the Cleric explained. “It would seem the cries of the banshee drove him inane. In a fit of rage he leapt from the cliffs, into the waters beneath, where the weight of his irons held him under and his lack of magic prevent his escape until his demise.”
Sarah swung her head into her husband’s chest. “No one deserves to die like that,” she cried.
“As I said,” the Gavel repeated. “Tragic indeed, but more so beyond your control and you mustn’t hold yourselves in any way responsible.”
The king acknowledged his words with a nod, but clung to his wife no less, for her heart held to the responsibility the Gavel begged her to release. “While we thank you for the notice, Tiberon’s unfortunate passing is not the reason for our visit.”
“So I see,” the Gavel pointed to Freddie. “What is it you ask for the child? A Christening?”
“Of sorts,” Jareth admitted. The three sets of eyes focused on the royals as they retold Freddie’s tale. How he had come to them, why they wanted to have him Christened, why they wanted to be the ones to raise him. “And so we feel a child with Freddie’s exceptional talents would be far too misunderstood in the mortal realm to remain one of them. We realize it is fully presumption to ask to be his parents, but we both know the customs of his world and in our hearts, believe with earnest and free of malicious want or selfishness that we would best understand him as he continues to develop.”
Looking at one another, the Triumvirate debated. “He would be fully fey under the rules of the Christening. Nothing human of him would remain, but his memories. His magic keeps us from erasing those,” the Cleric said.
The Sage was more philosophical, “It would be a rather interesting experiment to follow.”
Most mysterious of all, the Gavel said nothing, only took in what was being said by the others. When at some length they failed to keep up the conversation, he asked, “And your vow to us from years ago. The one you swore to keep you and the king from having children?”
“We are still unable to have a child of our own,” Sarah reasoned. “I understand how an adoption would give us in name and in title a child, and while would love it as if it were our own flesh, our own blood, it would not be. I would remain barren. The king would never have a true heir to the throne, a three quarter mortal to soil the bloodline, rather there would be a fully fey child, ready to assume the throne.”
“You make a valid point milady,” the Gavel agreed. “And not being one to argue with validity myself,” he smirked. “The child’s Christening shall take place this coming holiday at the usually scheduled hour.”
“In exchange for?” Jareth asked.
“In exchange for nothing.”
“Gavel, forgive my ignorance, but it is so unlike you to concede to one of our requests willingly and without an exchange of some sort.”
“We must learn to change with the world around us your majesty, lest we be left behind by it. A wise king taught me that.”
“Really, you must introduce me sometime.” Jareth smiled, pulling his wife and child closer to him.
“You wouldn’t get along. He’s an arrogant one, he is.”
Pursing his lips, the king sparred back, “I’m sure it’s all part of his charm.”
***** ***** *****
Back at the castle the reaction was explosive. Everyone had come to develop a splendid fondness for Freddie. To be told he would be staying was a great reward. Preparations for the occasion far exceed what had been done for Sarah’s Christening, but only because she herself had a hand in the planning. Perfectly dressed, the happy couple balanced the child between them as they awaited the arrival of the Triumvirate.
The exchange was traditional right up to the portion where the child was assigned to one of the Representatives. The four sector big wigs were in attendance, but they all knew they were no candidate for this child. Gandor and Hoggle beamed with joy for what they were about to witness, while Elbereth remained fairly neutral and Ranofyr seemed more bored than anything.
“Jareth and Sarah, in so much as you have made it known your intention to raise this child as your own,” the Cleric began, “will you vow to the same publically today.”
“We will,” they said in unison.
“Then it is the decision of this Triumvirate that the child formally known as Freddie be Christened today, a full fey to be known by the name Ian.” Across his forehead the Cleric spread oils and around his neck he hung a tiny emblem that matched the king’s and queen’s. “Welcome ladies and gentlemen, Prince Ian of the Underground.” A soft light illuminated the child in Sarah’s arms and his eyes began to lighten. The left grew wide and blue, the right remaining normal and green.
Pride filled the king as he raised his son for the spectators to see. “He’s got my eyes,” he told his wife.
“Correction love, he’s got one of your eyes.” Unabashed she kissed her husband and then with an equal disregard for their public displays they kissed their child. None who knew them well could control their emotions. Arulan, Drema, Hoggle, Winston, Jena, Ludo and Didymus just to name a few. But perhaps the most moved by the ceremony, was the Leanan Sidhe, whose tears fell in a fine mist as Jareth and Sarah wrapped a blanket over their infant child. And so the couple that seemed forever unable to bear a child, proved once again that nothing here was as it seemed.
***** ***** *****
Ian brought new challenges to the king who had only temporarily cared for children until him. Not an easy one to rouse from sleep, Sarah took care of the middle of the night feedings and Jareth compensated by allowing her to sleep in. All the task otherwise afforded to the goblins, the changings, the bathing the general amusement, Arulan helped him gain a knack for. He marveled at his wife’s easy way with children, and though he knew she had a rather large hand in raising Toby it still made him go soft when he watched her with their child.
As they promised Gandor, he was frequently taken to the Southwest sector to visit. The Representative took great joy in him and it seemed he was always on Santa’s nice, yet wildly mischievous, list, not unlike his father. The poor elves who engaged in follies with him were often so exhausted when he took his leave, the were sent to rest before returning to their shift, but clearly the realm bowed to the whims of it’s newest prince.
In the garden Jareth watched them as Sarah told him about the flowers they grew and the Rowan tree. By age three he was able to maneuver some basic paths in the Labyrinth. By seven he loved to hide away in there and entertain himself with all the wondrous creatures. By ten he’d taken to tormenting which no one appreciated more than his father. Oddly enough he always had trouble with the dwarf’s name. He did well in school where Sarah One was fond of taking him about, forever reminding him that she was named after his mother and that her advanced age meant he must obey her every whim, which he did. At times he followed her instructions begrudgingly, but as he often told his mother, “She’s an engaging sort and someday I shall pitch her in the bog, but for now, I allow her to divert my attentions on occasion.” Blood or not, he was his father’s son.
Sarah hoped that no lasting relationship was forming between Ian and Hoggle’s daughter for the oddness of their duality would trouble her, but Ian seemed confident that there’s was merely a symbiotic passing of time. Sarah One’s attentions never seemed to focus on any one particular boy for long as she grew into a young woman, as most boys were fun to play with, some nice to look at, but rarely could they keep up with her bottomless hunger for knowledge and exploration. “They want to kiss” she shyly admitted to Sarah one day. “Can you imagine?” she asked screwing up her nose as though she’d been served a tray of insects.
Perhaps that in itself was the reason she and Ian got on so famously. He too loved to explore, whether it were imaginary fortresses built in the yard or remote corners of the Labyrinth, but most of all he wanted to go Aboveground. He’d heard marvelous things about it from the other children, how they knew Sarah could only imagine, but she had shown him his family in her crystals a time or two. As he grew older, Jareth pressed the subject with his wife. “If he is to ever assume my throne Sarah, he must learn to manage there.”
“I know Jareth, but he is so very young and unaware.” Her maternal instincts continued to submit that excuse well into Ian’s fourth decade. Far from young and unaware, their son had completed his schooling and pursued the practice of magics. Jareth and Deverell taught him the workings of castle, some of it’s history. Even those many years later the tale of Tiberon was a hard one to share. He’d dated socially among the other fey, but woman seemed to bore him. The king took very little concern in this matter. As with the prior four generations of his bloodline, the males did tend to put duty before love and he admired his son’s ethics. Immortals had a lifetime to find love and he would as soon prefer Ian find the right woman even if it took forever than to bed the wrong one out of anxiousness.
The young prince had filled out nicely, grown as tall as his father, but with a fuller in stature, more like Deverell. Fey litheness had escaped him and he favored the human broadness of a mortal man. His hair was chestnut brown and as manicured as his parents’ was. He did little to make up his eyes and it was for the best, his face did not lend to ornamentation. However, Ian did manage something no royal had done before. In an impetuous night of frolic with his friends he had the family crest tattooed on his lower back. He managed to hide it from his parents for months, but the entire realm knew. It made quite the impression on the ladies as it were when they caught him about and a bend at his waist would reveal the hint of India ink beneath the surface of his skin. His ‘harmless art’ caused quite a stir.
Upon the 60th anniversary of his adoption, Sarah sat in awe of her child. By mortal standards he would be an old man, well passed mid-life, but then she would have been dust in her old world. Still, he had been with her for so long and he was still so youthful, no harder looking than Jareth had been when they had met. She was glad of that for it meant his life had been a happy one, easy of stress. Jareth too had taken the years in stride. There may have been a few more white strands in his mane, the first hint of a wrinkle in his eye, but he was every stride the charismatic and handsome fey she had fallen in love with before knowing the meaning of the word. Were you to ask the king, he would equally praise his wife’s weathering of years, though Sarah, as most woman do, found flaw in herself that others would easily overlook.
One afternoon, she sat painting by a window in one of the drawing rooms as her husband and son battled over a chess board. “Checkmate father! Checkmate!!” she heard Ian cry.
“Impossible!”
“No father, checkmate. In all my years I’ve never beaten you, but by the Supreme One today is my day!” Ian left the table, “Mother, you must see this,” her son pulled on her arm. “Come have a look.”
Eyeing the board, Sarah only confirmed what Jareth would have liked to continue to deny. “I’m afraid it is checkmate my dear. That may be the first loss you’ve had in...”
“Over 300 years,” the king mopped. Arrogance having gotten the better of him, Jareth went to the window to pout. There he observed Sarah’s unfinished work. A portrait of the king and his son engaged intently over the board. Like a snapshot Sarah had captured all their intensity, all their similarity and it melted the king’s heart. “But if I must lose, I’m happy it could be to my son.” Approaching the boy, Jareth grabbed his elbow firmly, congratulating his son as he returned the hold on his father. Then pulling him close he held in a warm embrace and patted his back firmly.
Breaking his father’s hold, a hint of his immaturity slipping through, Ian beamed, “I must tell Deverell. Excuse me father.” He bowed to the king and kissing the queen quickly on the cheek he added, “Excuse me mother.” His cries for the king’s assistant echoed as he ran.
“I’ve finally gotten old,” Jareth sulked as Sarah ran to his arms to support him.
“You’ve not gotten old.”
“No love I have, I really have. That’s my first loss in over 300 years.”
Coyly she pointed out, “Well not your first loss.”
“You too love.”
“Sorry,” she smiled. Then taking his hands into hers, a familiar glint in her eye she begged of her husband, “Come with me my king, and I shall engage you in as challenging an exchange which I shall gleefully allow you to dominate.”
Heels clicking as he kept a quick pace behind her, countering her offer by warning his bride, “All these years together and I’ still amused by the fact you feel you need to allow me to do anything.” The giggle that preceded her every footfall was all the aphrodisiac he needed.
***** ***** *****
As Sarah lie her head upon the king’s chest, listening to his heart slow from its erratic pace, she was entranced at how amazing more than half a century of making love to the same man was. They still excited one another, still found new things to try and still loved each other so passionately their physical expression seemed natural. “Love,” she asked as his fingers trolled through her dampened hair, “have you thought about that day when Ian takes the throne.”
“I have, but I imagined it would be quite a way off. Had you other ideas?”
“We have raised a fine son,” she told him.
Jareth smiled, “Indeed we have.”
“I suppose I imagined we would reward ourselves by giving him the throne while we were still viral enough to enjoy these kinds of activities.” Sarah’s hand rubbed at his chest.
“But without a kingdom to rule, what will I do with forever?” Jareth questioned his wife.
Propping on her elbow, Sarah looked into his mismatched eyes, tracing the distinctive features of his face and proposed, “Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave.”
“Now there’s something we have yet to try,” the king wagged his brows as his mouth twisted into a devilish grin and he claimed his wife for the second time that afternoon.
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