Power Over Me
Jareth gets what he wants...or does he?
It wasn't that she was unusually cruel--no, that would be him, wouldn't it? And it wasn't that she wanted to be the villain in this story. It was that for once precious second--one that he naturally took advantage of--she weakened. Her hand twitched out towards the crystal and he selfishly took it as consent, when he knew she really intended to refuse after her ridiculous indulgence of a moment's fantasy.
He tipped his hand up and the crystal flew up off his fingertips and automatically she caught it, a mere reflex that damned her.
She gaped at the crystal in her hand, alight with swirling colors, then looked back up at him. He smiled smugly, heartbeat thudding through his veins at this trickery, this victory he had no right to.
He finally had her.
.
.
"Sarah," he spoke imperiously, and she materialized against her will before him in his audience room--which for the moment, was empty of goblins. He smiled down at her like a breeder at an impeccable but unruly purebred dog. She was still wearing her human clothes. "You will not wear mortal clothing before me; you no longer belong to that world." You are mine.
She rolled the crystal around in her hand, her eyes lowering, going to it.
His lips thinned and he waved a hand over her, replacing the dirt-smeared material with a simple white gown, cut not too close to her still-forming body, to preserve the innocence he so enjoyed about her.
She said nothing in response to his actions, nor as her hair was magically lifted and glossed, forming into an intricate braid so as to reveal the gentle curve of her neck. She merely watched him, eyes unsure, lips frowning slightly, as she had so often in the maze she had run.
He strode down the steps that led to his royal chair, and reached out to capture her chin, tilting her head up to emphasize his words. "You will make a study of me, what pleases me, what displeases me, and you will seek my praise at all costs. If you succeed, I will reward you with the only love I can give you." Physical; and more than that, she would not share her place with another, for fae did not keep multiple lovers. They used one until wearied, but he had bargained his faithful love to her and that was all he was required to keep to until the day she died. But no doubt in that comparatively brief span of consciousness, her contrary nature would amuse him. Time touched mortals here, in the Underground. It was no true Faerie, only an in-between place of twilight and hope.
Her brows furrowed and she tried to say something, but no sound came out. Something flashed out of the corner of his eye, and he glanced down to see she was fiddling with that blasted dream crystal again. Annoyed, he dismissed her, sending her to her room, for she was no doubt fatigued and in shock. No fun at all.
.
.
Every time he thought she would come to him--for he expected her to wander the hallways dreamily with the painful hope of running into him, or at least lock herself in the library full of magical tales of old--he would find her in her room, staring into her crystal. She would sigh at the scenes she saw, and not notice him until he was right next to her. Then she would look up distractedly and gaze at him like she didn't know him.
The Labyrinth, the sentient being with whom he shared his life-force, would whisper to him later. 'You gave her the dreams without collecting her confession of love, King Jareth...she is enthralled by the wrong thing.'
He slammed his gloved hand down on the low wall he stood beside, on his private balcony. "That cannot be!"
'She never wanted to give you her love...and now you do not have it, but reward her with her fantasies...you have lost her to them.'
And too late he remembered that a mortal left in the Underground must never possess her dreams, for the magic would ensnare her, tying up her heart in a never-never land until the body withered. She would never enact them, for her dreams took place in another world--her world of old--or under a different settings--she was no warrior princess claiming victory in battle, no innocent maid sweetly wooed. They could never be true and so be released, or forgotten, or dismissed. And she could not look away for they were her heart's desire, tantalizingly close, played out before her very eyes.
Too late, he realized that he had lost her to his own gift.
'How does your victory taste?'
.
.
A/N: Basically it's this: Jareth tricked her into "fearing him, loving him," and staying without actually securing her love. So when she accidentally accepted the agreement, she could not continue to love him, because she didn't already, and now he is bound to her physically but she is not bound to him emotionally. And being at loose ends, she becomes obsessed literally with the dream-images, which are so powerful to seduce and capture the slavish devotion of mortals when offered by fae hands. And Jareth is bound to his own pre-set rules, but I doubt his bedmate will prove as entertaining as he'd hoped. XD Poor Jareth.
Sorry to be so explanatory, I don't intend to insult anyone's intelligence. But I have no intention of writing more and making this more obvious and detailed, hence my a/n to make sure it came across clearly to everyone.
I really have to update TLAG...everytime I try, something else gets written instead...