The Vow
Disclaimer: Labyrinth belongs to Jim Henson. The original characters are my own. Please R/R!
Chapter One
Today was Sarah William's wedding day, and she was afraid.
Betrothed at fourteen and married by proxy, now at age twenty-two, her marriage would be consummated. Her husband was much older than she. Respected, an elder of his kingdom, but a complete stranger. She couldn't help the shivers that ran down her spine.
Some said her husband, Hidal of the Upper North Kingdom, was a tyrant. Some claimed he had previous wives that he ran into the ground with his lust. Sarah had seen the man only once, on the day she was betrothed, hidden behind a wall of velvet curtain in her father's carriage. She could not show herself, as propriety dictated, but she snuck a peek through the heavy drapes.
He was a solid man, tall, with bookish features and a florid face. He may have been handsome, striking even, once, but now he had turned to near corpulence. His belly protruded beyond his waistline, a whipcord thin belt holding up the brash colored leggings that his kingdom favored, straining at the exertion.
"Father, must I?" she whispered.
"Sarah Joie, remove yourself from that window. What if someone sees you?"
Her father had been irritated, and rightly so. Being seen could compromise her purity, and after all, that innocence was the very reason she had been chosen. Women of the Twelve Kingdoms were notoriously flagrant with their passions, scarcely making it to womanhood without an affair or two.
But Sarah wasn't of the Kingdoms. She was mortal, human, and a great treasure to be had.
Her father plied trade, a horse merchant of the Lost Lands of the Above. Some claimed their human world was dying; it was the reason they had to trade with the Underground. Others, rightly, knew that the wealth was Below, and any sane man would pursue his riches from that land.
Sarah was beautiful, young and untouched. She was fair trade. And her father was not stupid; he knew the money he could make off his daughter's virginity. She had been marketed when her woman's blood had first touched her, and a full year of bickering to and fro had settled her with the highest bidder. Hidal, the Red.
Tonight, tonight, she would be a virgin no more. But, she reasoned with practicality, she would also be rich, favored and given a title of her own right. She would always have to obey her husband-head, but he would likely leave her alone once she had a child or two.
An heir, the coveted creation.
She ran her fingers over her gown. It was spun of the finest silk, harvested by her master's own silkworms. A true luxury, of filigreed silver and shot with gold. She wore a veil over her face, for though she was already married, no man should see her until she was broken by her lord-husband.
"It will be painful, but likely quick." Her handmaid Lilith instructed Sarah on her behavior in a last minute rush. "Just lay there, don't move, and it will soon be over."
Sarah nodded. She knew the rules already. She had been trained to be a wife since a young girl. After all, what were mortal human women worth if not for their prized jewel?
"It's time, Sarah."
She swallowed back bile. "Yes, I'm coming, Father." She let him lead her down the corridor, to her wedding chamber. To her deflowering.
Sarah stared up at the bed's canopy, little angels and demons playing in a Garden of Truth and Lies. Her hair flowed around her neck, her nightgown of sheer linen covering her from neck to toe. She wiggled her bare feet, looking at the jewelry that had been strapped to her ankles and wrists. They looked like manacles, but it had been a wedding gift from her husband. Gold and rubies, in two thick bracelets worn in a cuff. Her ankles bore the same bands.
The door creaked open and she heard the scuff of heavy feet. She lifted her chin, just a bit, to look over the bottom of the mattress. She laid down again at the sound of the voice commanding her.
"Relax, child. This won't take long."
Yes, she had been told. She held her breath as the bulky man climbed on top of her, his nightshirt ruched up about his thick waist. Lords, he was heavy. She tried to suck in air, but it had been tamped from her chest.
With methodical thoroughness, her husband palmed her breasts, circling and kneading. It hurt. She closed her eyes, super tight until she saw stars and dots of color behind her eyelids. He humped her, pressing in her most tender spot. He grunted. He sighed.
She peeked. Was it over? She had felt very little discomfort, just embarrassment from him touching her.
He spoke, gruff. "Say nothing of this." He shifted.
She nodded. She knew better than to disagree, even if she didn't know as to what she was supposed to be quiet about. A lady never talked about intimate functions, she knew that. He rolled off her as he touched her cheek, light, and brief.
"You are beautiful," he said. He sounded disappointed.
She nodded again, a silent thank you. Her father would be proud she had not put him in default. He had received a large sum for her, a bag of coin at her betrothment, now to be given another as she became a true woman.
Her husband watched her. She fiddled with her gown, unsure and uncertain. He didn't speak, just observing her.
"How old are you, child?"
She was no child; it was the reason she could go through with the ceremony. But, she took into account that her husband was old. Not only did he have the sagging jowls and flared red-toned skin, but she knew him to be hundreds of years old. Time did not measure the same in the Underground.
"Twenty-two, my lord."
"So young, so young, a mere infant." He reached out and stroked her leg. She braced herself to keep from flinching away. "Tell me, how do you find me? Ancient, perhaps?"
She didn't how to answer without a great offense. "You are older than my father, I think, my lord." There, she had said it, and he laughed. His laugh was young, full of flight.
"Indeed I am, indeed I am, child." His brows furrowed. "What did they tell you of me?"
Sarah decided on truth. "That you are a lusty man and have buried many wives."
He sighed again, deeper this time. "I have had no wife. Just a mistress or two."
She didn't know why he confided this to her, but Lilith said that sometimes after coitus a man wanted to talk. She was bound to listen, however dull, however inept his conversation. She remained quiet. Just as a wife should be with her husband, unobtrusive and gentle. Conforming and kind.
"Relax child. I do not bite." He rubbed her hair through his thick fingers, assessing her. She stayed quiet and he kept playing with her hair. Finally, he spoke. "I wish to give a ball, a masquerade, in your honor my dear. Would that please you?"
"I am well schooled in dance, my lord."
His face grew tart. "Yes, but what I asked. Would it please you?"
"If it pleases my lord, then yes."
He shook his head. "Such a shame, such a waste, that a beauty like yours should have no backbone."
She felt an unfamiliar flare. "I answer only how I was trained, my lord-husband. If this offends-"
"It does. I wish you to be honest, frank if you will, with me at all times." She frowned. He laughed. "Humor an old man."
She nodded, still supine. "Of course."
He smiled at her. "You have done well, child. Just remember, tonight marked a very special night for you. For tonight you are my bride."
She nodded. He stood, leaning on the mattress to brace himself. "Be well. Until the ball, then. I will have a dressmaker attend you."
"Thank you, my lord."
"Thank you, dear Sarah, for your innocence."
Hidal the Red turned to his only child, a bastard son. "Jareth, bide your remarks. If you wish to remain in my kingdom without retribution, you will do as I command."
"I am not fucking your child bride. Father." Jareth mock bowed. He tapped his swagger stick against his muscular thigh, irritated but not surprised. His father was prone to commands, even outrageous ones.
Pacing, he was a flurry of raven-feather cape and crimson vest, strikingly beautiful, immodest and highly promiscuous. Perfect for his father's needs. It was a shame he refused to do it.
"I must have an heir."
Jareth raised an arched eyebrow, devoid of his court makeup. He never followed protocol, one of the reasons he was sure his father attempted to woo him with bait.
"An heir of my own blood." Hidal frowned, throwing caution to the wind. "We both know you can never inherit my kingship. You are half human, and well known in the courts for your philandering and petty jealousies, besides." He said, gruff, adding to the ire. "She is beautiful."
"She is well trained, too, I imagine. Silly little chit, unable to say yes or no without permission."
"Do you blame the girl? She was brought up to be a bride. I cannot give that to her."
"Father, my lord, it is not my issue that you cannot consummate with your beautiful wife." His sarcasm was not missed.
"You will obey!" His father's face flushed with his rage. He clutched at his chest, rubbing his arm momentarily and then calming. "Son. I need you."
"And I need my position in the southern kingdom secured." Jareth mused. "I want the whole Labyrinth. Promise me that and you will have a deal."
His father glared. "What, and run you off into that horde of hideous creatures that reside there, the most insignificant yet dangerous kingdom? What use is it for you?"
"Power," Jareth answered simply. "Power and I want it. Promise it to me, and I will break the seal on your child this very night."
The old man's face was shrewd. "Wait until she has been introduced at the ball I am giving her. Seduce her, woo her kindly, and then take her to bed." The man smiled, "I promise you will have your Labyrinth and goblins if you do this thing for me."
"A fortnight," Jareth said, pausing and looking up the stairwell at the rooms he knew housed his step-mother. Sarah. "As you wish. It will be done." He smiled, cocky. "Well, it seems I am to father my own brother. Imagine that."
Hidal frowned. "Jareth." The man turned at his name, mocking in a sneer. His father continued, undeterred. "Treat her well. She is a gentle soul."
"Father, if there is anything I know, it is how to bed a woman. Gentle or not."
A/N: Updates won't be as frequent. I'll try for every week, possibly every two, if my writing stalls.