The ship lurched along through the open water, heaving with each wave.  
Aeris had been quite a fan of ships in the Underground--for the most 
part, they were pleasant and elegant galleons on calm seas.  This is 
definitely a change of pace, she thought, her stomach tightening a 
little as the ship rocked.  She sighed and took courage.  She could do 
with a little adventure.  It was strange and fascinating to visit this 
part of the ever-expanding universe of the Underground, and see this 
Medieval world of magic.  On to Florin!
Of course, in her heart, Aeris didn't want to go.  Humperdink's castle 
gave her the creeps, and besides, the only way to go was by ship, and 
everyone knew about the marauding Dread Pirate Roberts.  She shivered as 
she looked out the little window into the gathering gloom of night on 
the ocean.  She thought Hook was bad, but at least he kept to one place.  
She bit her lip, searching the horizon, wondering if somewhere out 
there, death itself lurked under the hazy light of dusk.  The boy behind 
her easel noticed her wandering attention, and cleared his throat.
Westley was a poor farm boy, having set sail to seek his fortune and 
then return home to the girl he loved.  Aeris found his naiveté charming 
and refreshing after living under Jareth's cold, cynical shadow for so 
long, and with the growing intuition being a Herald afforded her, she 
could see his love was true.  She had met him on her first day on the 
ship--almost as soon as they were out of the harbor, she had found 
herself leaning helplessly over the side, sick beyond telling.
She remembered how she had grimaced as she raised back up, gripping the 
railing tightly and trying to breathe.  It wasn't working.  As the wind 
moved her long black braid, she felt the sea sickness washing back over 
her.  She closed her blue eyes tightly and went with it.
"Hello there," said a friendly male voice, as she pitched herself 
halfway overboard, too ill to be very embarrassed, though it was there, 
a dull insult to her injury.  She came back up, sure that she would 
faint.  "Well, now," he said.  There was a sarcasm in the tone of his 
voice, but it was light and playful.  She imagined, in her fanciful way, 
that it was the sound of the smile that played on Jareth's lips when he 
teased her...Jareth's cruel inflection was in his eyes and words, not 
the slight twist of his mouth.  That was where his humor lay, and she 
heard it in that voice.
"Sorry," she muttered, feeling a blush heating her cheeks, looking down 
at the chest of the speaker, too shamed to meet his eyes.  "It's 
just...I'm not used to..."  And she managed to flit her eyes up 
apologetically to his kindly sympathetic face just before she leaned 
back over the railing.  He was a handsome young man with bright eyes 
that had seemed a kind of grey color when she had glanced at them, but 
as she finally stood up again, supporting herself on the rail, she saw 
the light changing them from green to blue and grey all at once.  A 
girl's bitter/wistful voice shot through her mind:  "...poor and 
perfect...with eyes like a sea after a storm."  Aeris knew it belong to 
his future and questioned it no further; her Herald powers often gave 
her such mystical glimpses, and they had become a regular part of her 
dealing with people.  Feeling slightly better, she extended her hand to 
him.  "Aeris, Herald of the Underground," she said, pushing the corners 
of her lips up in a weak but genuine smile.
"Westley," he had said, giving the smile back in full, disarming 
radiance.  "Farm boy of nowhere in particular."
From that smile on, she and the young man had been fast friends.  He 
was a quick learner, interested in everything.  He was uncommonly 
bright, but funny and unassuming.  Since he had helped her through her 
first few days she wanted to pay him back somehow, but the only way she 
could think of was to paint him, and so she offered, curious at whether 
he'd be drawn or repelled by knowing his future.  He only shrugged when 
she made her suggestion.  "Sure, why not?" he'd said evenly, as though 
there were no mysteries in his future...and she supposed that there 
weren't, when one considered the nature of true love.  Buttercup was his 
future, and it was as simple as that.
So there they were, sitting in the cabin as the daylight grew dim and 
his chores came to an end.  He talked endlessly about the beautiful girl 
that waited for him, and though he said much about her, Aeris could not 
call forth an image of the girl to her mind.  Unsettled, but not about 
to say a word, Aeris went on, letting the thoughts breeze through her 
mind as her brush worked a soft background of daylight, two human shapes 
emerging from the chaos on her canvas.
"That's it for tonight," she said to him, as he sighed, words of 
Buttercup's beauty having just fallen from his lips.
"I thank you, Herald," he said to her, a little bow following it.
She waved her hand at him.  "For heaven's sake, don't do that.  It's 
frightening the way they all call me that at home; don't you start too."
"Sorry, Aeris," he answered, a smile flitting around the corners of his 
mouth.  "Go on, now.  And try not to get sick on the way back to your 
cabin."
Sticking out her tongue at him, she gathered her things and departed to 
her tiny room on the boat.  She had a surprise waiting there.
        She set her things down carefully on the bed and lit a small 
lamp, gazing into the dusty mirror--a far cry from the guilded 
furnishings on Hook's ship--studying her pretty features.  She still 
looked barely sixteen, and she was edging on twenty, despite the shock 
of white that streaked her black hair down the left side.  She shrugged, 
and began to undo her braid.
        Her lamp, sitting on the table by the bed, blinked out.  The 
darkness was sudden and alarming.  She spun around, searching in the 
inky room her eyes hadn't adjusted to.  "Who's there?"
And she heard Jareth singing under his breath.  "I give you all a boy 
could give you, take my tears and that's not nearly--"
"Dammit," she said, sitting down on the bed slowly, her blue eyes 
keeping to the young man leaning on the opposite wall in the glow of a 
crystal.  She relit her lamp, shaking out the match.  "What are you 
doing here?"
"Hello, Herald.  You don't look terribly happy to see me."
She sighed, clucking her tongue.  "And I was having such a good time."
His smile didn't flinch in the slightest.  "What's that you have 
there?" he asked, his hand reaching for her painting.
"Nothing," she said, perhaps too defensively.  In an instant, he had it 
in front of his face, and she marveled at his speed and agility 
underneath her irritation.
"Nothing, tra la la?" he asked, eyes studying the primitive stages of 
the painting.  "That silly farm boy, eh?  Quite a pretty thing, I 
suppose."
"Jealous, Jareth?"
He narrowed his eyes at her, and Aeris wasn't sure whether he was 
feigning insult or really felt offended.  "Never, good Herald."  He had 
a crystal out and was rolling it over his free hand.
She hesitated, then frowned at him.  You have no power over me.  I 
thought I taught you not to mess with Heralds, when you were still a 
worthless whelp...oh wait...you still are--"
He threw aside the painting.  "Heralds may be powerful, and I may not 
be able to interfere with your work, but I certainly can punish you for 
insolence."  He smiled.  "Well, perhaps not you..."
"Argh!"  She stood up.  "Don't you dare hurt that boy.  You're nothing 
but a bully.  The Prince of the Goblins indeed."
"Enough!" he shouted, and pushed her back down hard on the rough 
mattress.  He threw the crystal into the round window, but instead of 
shattering the glass, it passed through it, until it was just a speck on 
the dark horizon.  "See that light, Aeris?"  She turned to look at it, 
eyes focusing through the hazy glass of the windowpane.  "Your doom 
approaches.  See if you can save him, Aeris.  Or even yourself."  And he 
was gone.
She bit her lip, a cold fear gnawing at her.  She started quickly to 
the upper deck.
All the sailors and the few passengers were already there, gathered on 
the starboard side, watching the light pull closer and closer.  It was a 
ship.  A pirate ship.  And Roberts' black skull and crossbones flew 
above it, waving in the moonlight.
They set full sail, fleeing the shocking speed of Roberts' ship.  It 
gained on them as if they were anchored.  Aeris picked through the crowd 
of horrified sailors, sure of their deaths.  "Westley!" she called out 
above their panicked cries.  "Westley!"
"Here!" he said, and she saw him holding out his hand to her.  She took 
it and her pulled her out of the crowd to stand face to face beside a 
rowboat.  "They're abandoning ship, Aeris.  You'll have to go on the 
first boat, do you understand?  You have to get off the ship."
"I can't," she said miserably.  "It's my fault."
"What?"
"Nevermind.  Aren't you coming, too?"  He didn't answer right away, and 
she saw his eyes.  "Oh, no, Westley, don't!  There's not a thing on this 
ship worth dying for!  Roberts doesn't take survivors.  You'll be 
alright if you're not on the ship.  You've got to take a boat."
"Not necessarily true," he said softly, "Which is why we have to get 
you on the first one.  I'm putting you in with Marcus and Tom.  They're 
both good men, and they know what precious cargo you are to the world.  
They'll see you safe."
"I'm not leaving.  If you're staying, there's no way I'm getting off 
this ship."
"Don't be so stubborn."
"You don't understand, it's my fault!"
"I don't believe you," he told her flatly.  "Get on the boat."
"Never!" she flared back.
He matched her eyes evenly for a moment.  "Alright, Herald.  But if you 
die, I'll not have the world blaming me for the end of the women of the 
roses."
"Don't call me Herald.  It's Aeris," she said, smiling.  "Just Aeris."
The captain was fair.  After sending away his tiny group of passengers 
in a rowboat with Marcus and Tom (who were plainly shocked at Aeris' 
refusal to leave), he asked his crewmen who would stay and who would go.  
Most flocked to the boats.  Westley and Aeris were left with the captain 
and a handful of frightened, brave men.  She saw doom in the captain's 
eyes.  "This going down with the ship drivel is for the birds," she 
whispered shakily to Westley.  He squeezed her shoulder.
It was decided she would go to the deck just below.  She protested 
against the men, but Westley wouldn't let her win that one.  "You're not 
a fighter, Aeris.  What will you do?  Paint them to death?"
Her fleeting smile answered him first.  "You know I've got more power 
than that.  And my fencing isn't that bad."
"I'll call if you're needed.  Just stay here and be quiet for now, 
Aeris.  Promise?"
"I promise."
And he shut the door on her, leaving her in the dark to wait for the 
end.
The light grew slowly in the little room, and she stepped back from it, 
knowing what it brought.  Jareth stood before her, his face shadowed 
weirdly in the light his crystal gave off.
"You contemptible villain!" she shrieked at him.  "I could kill you 
myself!"
He cocked his head sideways, amused.  "Now, is that any way to talk to 
your soverign?"
"It is when he's a cruel, heartless bully!"
"It begins," said Jareth, holding up the crystal for her to see.  And 
so it had.  Roberts' ship was pulling up beside theirs.  She could hear 
the commotion outside as well as see it in the enchanted glass.  "Oh, 
no," was all she could manage, and Jareth chuckled.
"They're a waste," he said lightly.
"They are not!" she hissed back. "These men are good people, Jareth.  
And no less worthy of life or love than you."
"I'm not killing them.  It's Roberts.  Tell him that."
In the crystal she could see them spilling over onto the ship.  
Bloodthirsty cutthroat was a common phrase, the sort one never really 
thought about, but Aeris could see their eyes, burning with a strange 
glow all their own in the moonlight, and knew it really was death and 
destruction they craved.  She watched them begin their killing, and then 
she saw him, the man in black, his sword raised high, a sardonic smile 
cut across the lower half of his face, the upper obscured by a mask.  He 
laughed as his men cut down the sailors before them.
Westley, though, he was giving them some trouble.  Roberts smile turned 
into a frown and his laugh died away on his lips as he watched the boy 
picking through his pirates, the young man's small sword stained with 
their blood.
"Ha!" shouted Aeris to Jareth.  "Some waste!  He's better than you!"
"No he isn't."  But she saw him peer curiously into the crystal at him.
As they watched, Roberts strode towards Westley, cutting down whatever 
stood in his way, sailor and pirate alike.  He stood before the boy, and 
they engaged in combat.  Westley wasn't the better swordsman there; 
Roberts was a master.  But he was the smarter, that was obvious, and he 
used his mind to great advantage, each move planned and executed so 
perfectly.
But he never saw the pirate behind him, and when the hulking figure 
reached and grabbed his sword, disarming him almost casually, he was 
left completely defenseless.  Aeris' heart froze.  She threw down the 
crystal, and when it shattered on the floor, she found herself standing 
beside the two men, Westley unarmed and kneeling, Roberts raising his 
sword high.
"Don't!" screamed Aeris.  "You can't!"
Roberts glanced once at her and then to a nearby cohort.  "Kill the 
girl."  He turned back to Westley.  The pirate came towards her.
She used the one defensive skill she had, holding her hands out in 
front of her and closing her eyes tightly, she pushed with her energy, 
and a cloud of red smoke appeared around the pirate.  Where he had 
stood, there was a black rose.  A dozen more pirates came and grabbed 
her, but she was unable to resist.  Roberts held the order to kill her.  
Drained, she looked into his eyes.  "Don't kill him."
"I kill them all," he told her.  I leave no survivors."
"None of these men deserve it, least of all him."
"What could make him so special?  All his crewmates are dead.  No man 
is above his fellow, and there is nothing in the world you could tell me 
that would convince me he is any less deserving of death.  He knew the 
price of defending his ship."  Roberts raised his sword.
"Please," said Westley.
"What was that?" asked Roberts, a momentary confusion flickering in his 
killer's eyes.
"Please.  I have something to live for."
"And what would that be?"
"True love," said the boy simply.  "The most beautiful girl in the 
world is waiting for me.  Please."
Westley went on with his story, talking about Buttercup, about her 
beauty, her faithfulness, how she would wait forever for him.  His words 
wove themselves around the black hearts surrounding him, and Aeris saw 
Roberts' face as his will bent to the pure love in Westley's eyes.
When the boy was finished, he raised his chin, readying himself for the 
final blow.
Roberts mouth twisted around as he thought.  Finally, he straightened 
up.  "Well, Westley, I've never had a valet.  We'll try it for a night.  
Most likely kill you in the morning."
He waved a hand, and Aeris was freed.  She rubbed her arms where they 
had grabbed her.  "And where is it you are off too, young lady?"
"I'm the Herald of the Underground.  You will deliver me to Florin, 
where I am to paint the bride of Prince Humperdink."
"I'll be reminding you who holds the sword, little miss."
She frowned.  "Then please deliver me to Florin.  I have an important 
commission."
"Ah, now that's more like it.  To Florin!"

Aeris was frowning as she painted Humperdink's bride.  It was turning 
out to be a lovely picture, and she had to admit, the subject was a 
gorgeous creature...perhaps even the most beautiful woman in the world.  
She was standing in a blue gown, a crown resting on her head, as she 
looked out into a crowd of people with the most forlorn, deadened 
expression Aeris had ever seen, yet her eyes seemed to search the group 
of people, looking for that one face, her rescuer, the one who could 
save her from Humperdink.  That was the source of her frown, and Aeris 
found herself listening for clues.  But nothing came, save a few 
whispering words she couldn't quite make out.
"Hello, Herald."
She gasped, her brush smearing a red line over the bride's gown.  
"Jareth!" she nearly shrieked with rage, a rag frantically dabbing at 
the painting.  Jareth smiled and leaned over, brushing his hand over the 
smear.  It disappeared.
"You were fantastic that night," he said, and she couldn't tell whether 
he meant it or was sarcastic.
"I didn't save either of us.  Westley saved himself.  You're lucky I 
don't tell your father about that little stunt you pulled."
Jareth glared at her.  "You wouldn't dare."
"Wouldn't I?" she challenged, her eyes flashing at him.  "Get lost, and 
I don't want to see you again until I get home...and maybe not after 
that."
His face ugly and thunderous, he became an owl, and flew out through 
the narrow window.
Aeris couldn't wait to get home.  She dipped her brush back into the 
red and finished the mouth of Humperdink's bride, and she could almost 
see a loving smile hiding under her expression.  And Aeris found herself 
hoping that the girl's champion would come for her...and soon.
 



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