Disclaimer: This is a SEQUEL to my story New Crystals, Old Dreams. If you haven't read that story, I suggest you do so before reading this one, though I DO have kind of a prologue for those who don't want to. LOL
I do not own rights to anything you recognize from the Labyrinth movie and/or the book. Everything else, including OC's and the new realms of the Underground ARE mine and I would like them treated as such. I do not make any money from this story, though apparently, I might make money on a few of my personal dress designs! LOL
I do draw fanart for this story and NCOD, if you want to check them out go to my deviantart page. My homepage link on my FF main page will send you there.
It hasn't been too long since last we left our friends in the Underground. Sarah and Jareth are happily married and the Goblin Kingdom thrives with the instatement of its new Queen. A mere two weeks have passed since the wedding of Jareth and Sarah and the Underground is preparing itself for yet another glorious day of celebration.
Today is the day of Cyric and Jeaule's wedding, but not only will they be wed this day…there will also be a coronation for them both. Former Queen Medb, within the rocky prison of her statue, will watch from afar as her once malevolent kingdom passes into the hands of the kind and caring couple.
The only royalty not in attendance this day is Damien, Cyric's lifelong enemy. Not satisfied with having stolen parts of Cyric's childhood lands now that the tormentor of his youth has an entire kingdom to run, and one larger than Damien's own to boot, he will stop at nothing to take it all away.
Dizziness stole over Jeaule, sending a wave of heat through her core that made her wish for a fan, as she waited behind the grand oak doors. Beyond those doors was her future, one she would never have dreamt for herself, but one that was rapidly approaching never the less. Cyric was on the other side of that door, she thought with a bracing smile. He would no doubt look handsome, it was hard for him not to and that wasn't even a biased opinion. Cries of the forlorn women had been heard near and far when he'd announced his marriage to Jeaule.
But, Jeaule thought with another flip of her nervous stomach, there were also hundreds of people on the other side of those dark wooden doors. People that were there to judge and cheer alike, for this was not only to be her wedding day, but hers and Cyric's coronations as well. Their eyes, hundreds of speculative, judgmental eyes, would dissect her, trying to find weakness in her, trying to find a reason to dislike instantly.
"Oh…" she sighed as her thoughts turned her already unstable legs to noodles beneath her.
"Oh no you don't," Sarah said with a knowing smile as she got a grip on Jeaule's arm. "Up you get." Jeaule nearly slumped against her friend, almost wanting the comforting silence and solitude of the healers ward at the moment. "No you don't, I won't be able to support much more of you here." Jeaule righted herself, feeling foolish.
"I can't help it," she sighed, wanting to lean back against a wall, but fearing for the fragile and easily stained white material of her dress. "All those people." She gestured weakly to the door before them, her breath constricting in her lungs. Sarah conjured up a small hand fan and began waving it gently before Jeaule's flushed face. The cool breeze was instantly helpful, the sheen of sweat that threatened was held at bay.
"I know that you're scared of them and that I didn't have to deal with something on quite this level of intensity," Sarah said soothingly, calming her friend with the restful tone of her voice. "But I can tell you that once those doors open and you see Cyric…everything is going to be okay." Jeaule looked up at her speculatively.
"Really?" Her friend smiled and placed the bouquet back in her hands.
"I promise." Jeaule imagined it, the great oak doors parting and seeing Cyric at the end of the red carpeted walkway. She could almost feel the stress leaving her body…until she looked to the side and saw the massive crowd gathered. "Jeaule…stop it." Sarah's voice cut through the imaginings as Sarah beat the fan harder.
"Gods…I can't even imagine it going well." Her friend laughed gaily as the fan disappeared. Sarah's hands were on her shoulders, tight and centering.
"Make me a promise." That caught Jeaule off guard, taking her thoughts from her fears of the day, she nodded. "When those doors open, you train your eyes on Cyric and no one else." It sounded like a lovely plan…
"But-" Sarah shook her head and raised a finger in warning to stop her.
"No buts…you train your eyes on him and so help me Jeaule…don't turn your head." With a heavy sigh, she nodded, not wanting to argue how difficult that would prove to be. "Besides, if anyone WERE to form an opinion of you today, I can't see as they'd find a fault. You look beautiful, your dress is flawless…but that was a given."
Jeaule grinned, of course it was, and of course it was thanks to Sarah. When her friend had heard that they weren't having a traditional handfasting because Cyric wanted the coronation on the same day as he would be joined with her, Sarah had nearly squealed with delight. She'd begged Jeaule to let her design a dress that would hold to the Undergrounds traditions and yet be a bit untraditional. Jeaule had fretted over that decision since it was also to be a coronation, but Sarah had persisted, saying that it would be a white dress…coronation standard.
And so the dress that adorned her was created. The dress was fitted until her upper thigh, where the material flowed down into a voluptuous skirt with tiny embroidered Celtic love and strength knots at the hem. The actual dress scooped down below her breasts, cupping them and it was the ruched under-shirt that ruffled from beneath it that covered her. But the part of the dress that had captured Jeaule and her heart was the mind numbingly intricate embroidery of gentle vines covered with dozens of little red flowers that started from where the dress hugged her breasts and twisted down to her thighs.
"Hmm," Sarah's mockingly inquisitive noise brought a smirk to Jeaule's lips, she knew what her friend was about to say. "I guess the only thing they might find at fault is your hair." Sarah had bothered her all week about her decision to wear her hair up, whining that her hair was simply too beautiful to hide up with that comb. But Jeaule had stuck by her decision, no one knew what that comb meant to her.
Mother still wasn't home. Her duties at the annual royal Christmas breakfast had no doubt run late, most likely due to a comment of some sort by the prince that had turned into a shouting match with his father. It was always like that, but their mother was personal maid to the Queen and that job came with its perks…like their home in the Goblin City, just outside of the castle…but it also had its drawbacks.
The two girls, the color of night and day, sitting at their snow cased window just hoping for a sign of their mother, knew all about drawbacks. While both girls were anxious for their mother to come home, their reasons were as different as their personalities.
Jeaule, pale sunlight for hair, had never, in all her young life, held her mother's job against her. Sure it meant that she and her sister had to wait for their mother to come home to get their presents, but the dedication their mother showed to their happiness erased any anger Jeaule might have felt. It was her mother and she did the best she could, there was nothing more she could ask of her.
Erina, on the other hand, had plenty she could ask and did. She'd been fuming at the window for an hour now, fogging the glass then angrily wiping it clear again, as if the fog were to blame for her mother not being there. Her face was set in angry lines, clearly irritated that their mother wasn't home yet. Erina had never liked sharing their mother with the royal family, swearing on more than one occasion that she would marry the prince so that their mother would never be able to ignore her again. It didn't matter how many times Jeaule told her sister that he would marry a princess, not a servant's daughter…Erina didn't listen.
A dark figure moving from the castle doors had Jeaule's heart racing with joy. There mother was done at last. As their mother cleared the castles archway, Erina spotted the two brightly wrapped presents in her arms, not caring for the bright and lovely smile, nor waving back as their mother shook a happy hand towards them.
"Hello girls!" She called as she walked through the door, setting the packages down to shake the snow from her hair. Jeaule immediately made her way towards her mother's now outstretched arms, but was shoved violently aside as Erina passed her.
"Why did you take so long!?" Erina shouted wickedly at their mother, wiping the beautiful smile from her face. She seemed not to have words for the fiery raven haired daughter visually fuming before her.
"It doesn't matter!" Jeaule said forcefully, coming to their mother's defense. "She's HERE now isn't she?" Their mother seemed bolstered by this as Jeaule ran into her arms, ignoring Erina's glare. Their mother took this chance to give the girls their presents.
"I do hope you like them," she chirped with a happy smile as Erina tore greedily at the paper, sending it flying. Jeaule took a more casual approach, as she always did. She liked to savor this moment, knowing it would be the only present she would get…except perhaps a treat from the Queen tomorrow.
"What is THIS?" Erina's disdainful sneer caused Jeaule to pause so she could see what Erina had received from their mother. It was a pretty dress, dark blue with delicate white floral embroidery. It would look beautiful against her pale skin and would cause her sapphire eyes to all but glow, but she seemed displeased. Jeaule couldn't imagine why.
"It's a dress my dear, I had it made especially for you." Their mother almost stammered, not wanting to upset her young daughter. Erina dropped the dress back into the box and folded her arms across her chest with a huff.
"I didn't ask for a dress." Jeaule ignored her sister's tantrum, she did this every year. When her fingers lifted the lid from her box, she was dumbfounded. The delicate silver hair comb was set with beautiful amber gems. She knew her mother had picked them herself, for they were the exact shade of Jeaule's eyes. "I want that!" Jeaule clutched the comb to her chest at her sister's words, surely their mother wouldn't…
"No Erina, that belongs to Jeaule." Their mother said sternly. Jeaule sighed, relieved, as her mother twisted her platinum locks up and slipped the comb into her hair. Her mother never let Erina get away with things like that and Jeaule was thankful for it. If she did…Jeaule wouldn't have a belonging left to her.
But, Jeaule thought, forcing back the tears that threatened at the memory. That had been their last Christmas with their mother. She'd died only five months later during Medb's attempted attack on the Goblin Kingdom. Queen Maesia had taken them in, had shown them kindness, but neither had the control nor the understanding of Erina that their mother had.
Not two days after they'd been taken in by Maesia, Jeaule and Erina had gotten into a fight over the last thing their mother had ever given to Jeaule…the little hair comb. Out of spite, Erina had gone to the Queen and told her that Jeaule had stolen it from her. Maesia didn't know any better and had ordered Jeaule to give the comb to Erina, telling her never to steal. The look on her sister's face had been placidly triumphant as she gripped the comb in her greedy little hand. That had been the moment Jeaule had promised never to argue with her sister again.
And for a long time…she hadn't.
Her sister had never worn the comb, she'd merely not wanted Jeaule to have it. Jeaule found it in the bottom of Erina's jewelry case, untouched all those years.
"Jeaule…!" Sarah's warning gave her just the time she needed to prepare herself, pulling her bouquet to her waist and straightening her back proudly, before the brilliant late morning sun broke over her face. She hadn't realized how cool the inside of the castle had been till the rays of sunlight danced over her skin, warming her with their caress. Her eyes adjusted to the radiant brightness of the sun and there he stood.
It was as Sarah said, once her eyes fell on Cyric, there was nothing else. The cheers from the crowd seemed to melt into nothingness, they weren't as important as those crystal blue eyes that were locked to her. Her heart fluttered as his smile quirked.
He looked so dashing , she thought as the space between them mercifully shortened. He was dressed in a loose fit, dazzlingly white top with red embroidery that she could tell was as intricate as the detail of her dress. It set off the unnatural tan of his skin, making him look like a dark rogue. It did nothing to diminish his beauty…for there was no other word for him at the moment.
Not for Jeaule.
His wavy chocolate locks had been pulled back loosely with a red ribbon, leaving stray strands to frame his face. With peripherals, she could tell that he wore black leather pants, but no details were drawn about them for her eyes were glued to his. When she reached him, her heart gave another nervous flutter before his hand wrapped around hers.
Nothing could stop them now that they were one.
'There has got to be a way to stop them!' Damien's mind insisted petulantly as he tried to think of a way to get Cyric out of the throne to the Eastern Realms. He simply couldn't stomach the thought of his lifelong rival having a crown and even Damien could admit that was saying something. No, he wouldn't share that right with the pompous, feather haired, crystal eyed playboy of his youth. Why had the gods done this to him? Was there no end to their cruelty?
All he'd ever wanted was to be better than everyone else, that hadn't been too difficult a request, had it? No, of course not, Damien thought to himself as he fluffed up the violently lavender ruffles at his neck. His outfit today was one of the most boring in his repertoire, well, it was to him anyways.
It was an annoyingly monochromatic black suit that he'd at least given a little spice to by covering it with tiny shimmering crystal fragments. The jacket was so snug he couldn't move his arms overmuch without tearing something and the pants stretched so tightly over his massive bottom that they were all but bursting at the seams…a perfect fit.
He'd meant to at least pretend sincerity this day, the worst in his life so far; it even topped the horrific dinner the night before and that had been an abysmal assault on his taste buds. His cook must have something against him, some hidden animosity, to produce something as offensive as that meal. His mind drifted back from his normal dip into self-pity and back to the lavender ruffles protruding from his jacket.
He'd designed them himself, just as he designed his whole wardrobe. The extravagant ruffles were lined with the same crystal fragments that covered his suit and if he did say so…which he did…he looked rather dashing. His personal clothing motto was, after all, 'the more extravagant, the more powerful and rich you look.' Well, he thought with a shrug, no one said it was the greatest motto, but it worked…didn't it?
What Damien would never accept was the fact that everyone around him always thought he looked like a walrus stuffed into stage costumes that would make Liberace blush. Damien didn't hear the snickers at his parties, or perhaps he merely ignored them. No one knew how the mind of their flamboyantly dressed monarch worked though few would have argued with the truth of the matter. The king was a pretentious brat who wanted everything to go his way all the time, that was common knowledge, but few would have believed the depths to which he would sink. But sooner or later, everyone's true colors are revealed to the world and this was Damien's time to either dazzle or repulse the whole of the Underground with his.
With a sudden flash of what Damien deemed brilliance, he had his plan. "Kindraa." She had helped Medb…hadn't she? It didn't slip his mind that Medb had fallen short on that occasion though. "Well…I have a stronger Kingdom than she ever did…and I'm far smarter." A chubby finger came to his lips and he anxiously nipped on the fingernail; going to Kindraa would mean going to war for surely there was no other option.
Did he want to go to war to remove the crown from Cyric's head? His meaty fist balled and slammed on the table before him with surprising force. Of COURSE he would. War meant little to him, after all, he wasn't the one fighting. What were the lives of soldiers compared to his? With a throaty chuckle he stood, preparing to use the magic he rarely took time to notice.
He thought of the gaping entrance to Kindraa's caverns; many knew of them, but few had the gall to actually visit the place that the gods had condemned. But, he thought, shutting his eyes tightly as the bothersome sensation of his own magic rippled over his skin, she was his best hope. As the irksome feeling of spiders over his skin, for that's what he thought of his magic, faded…he let his eyes creep open.
Well, he praised himself, he'd made it. The overpowering smell of sulfur assaulted his nose as he stepped forward. He brought a hand up to pinch his piggy little nose shut and narrowed his already girth squinted eyes in irritation. Couldn't she make this place a bit more presentable, he reflected as he walked into the mouth of the cave. Get rid of that smell, add some nice low lighting and perhaps even velvet here and….
He didn't get to finish his thought; a belch of soot suddenly issued from further in the cave, covering him head to toe with its gritty darkness. He stamped a huffy foot, wiping desperately at his clothing before giving up, realizing this merely gave him an excuse to throw the lackluster garment out.
"Are you coming to see me or are you planning on standing there looking like a charred swine all day?" The silk covered impiety of the voice sent chills through his bones and nearly made him dash out of the cavern all together. "No, no…we'll have none of that," the disembodied voice crooned.
"This was a bad idea," his voice shook as his teeth chattered, his feet starting to inch backwards. Damien shrieked, high-pitched and terrified, as a seat materialized beneath him. He gripped at the arms of the chair, his heavily hooded eyes darting back and forth in an attempt to see his tormentor, but she was no where to be seen.
"Oh…you wish to see me do you?" The cavern erupted in a torrent of fire and magma, the sulfur stench, more powerful than ever, causing him to gag. The shadows gathered and formed themselves into a devilishly good-looking woman whose red eyes were a vibrant match to the fire around her. Though, he pondered with a glimmer of his normal arrogance, she would look better in any other lighting. This harsh, low, red lighting wouldn't flatter anyone. "You ARE amusing you know?"
His pinched face twisted in confusion, "You know what I'm thinking?" Her calculatedly perfect, full lips quirked up into a smirk as she neared him.
"I know all," she purred, one overly long, slender finger trailing down the side of his face as she sat on the arm of his chair. Damien could only hope that those frighteningly sharp, pointed fingernails wouldn't cut his face. "I am, after all, a Chaos demon of prophecy." With a careless wave of her hand a table with a large viewing orb appeared before Damien. He leaned forward, suddenly entranced by what he saw within, his discomfort with Kindraa momentarily forgotten.
Within the crystal's shimmering confines, a brilliant scene played out. Damien saw himself standing triumphantly over Cyric's broken body, laughing merrily. Two of his guards held Cyric's screaming wife, Jeaule in their arms. The fury and anguish mixed beautifully on her face as she tried desperately to free herself. Damien lifted a fleshy hand, running a finger along the crystal over her face.
He'd wanted her since the night her sister had thrown a fit at his party. It had been another cruelty of the gods that she'd fallen in love with the handsome tormentor of his youth. Crystal Damien must have ordered his guards to take her to his tent for they took her off, kicking and screaming harder than ever. The image within the crystal faltered, turning to hazy smoke that dissolved to nothingness, leaving the crystal clear and blank.
"What happened!?" Damien demanded, turning to where Kindraa had been a moment before. His eyes were met with nothing, she'd gone. He frantically searched the cavern for her, not wanting to lose his chance now that he'd seen what could happen.
Smoky shadows curled around his neck and materialized into shockingly warm arms, "Don't worry my self-serving king…I would not leave you now that I've decided to help you."
"Why?" Damien asked, suddenly suspicious. Kindraa laughed behind him, but it wasn't at all pleasant sounding. It made every hair on his body stand on end.
"Because you amuse me." There was something in her voice that echoed a deeper reasoning behind helping him, but he dared not to venture there. The last thing he wanted to do was stop her aid. Switching his train of thought before Kindraa could sense it, he trained his mind of the image of Jeaule's beautiful, tear stained face.
"You can really kill him and make her mine…?" His voice was harried and squeakily fervent, even to his own ears. Kindraa sauntered around his chair, curling up next to a thermal vent across the room that was so hot it made the room around it shimmer with heat waves.
"I do nothing but tell you what could be and set you on the path to achieving it, what you do with that knowledge and how it comes about is up to you." The image of her body contorted and flickered in the heat waves.
"Then what will you tell me?" Even with the distortion, Damien could see her wicked smile.
"I tell you to go home." His jaw dropped as the anger rippled through him.
"But…but," he sputtered. "You told me you were going to help!" Kindraa's wavering form sat up, folding her legs beneath her, almost seeming to melt into the rock she was sitting on.
"I did and I am." Damien started to argue again, but her hand raised to silence him. "Go home…I am sending someone of my OWN to the Easternlands to act as a spy of sorts."
Irritation coiled in his belly, "Why can't I meet the person now? I want to tell them what to do." Kindraa's red eyes flashed with his impertinence.
"You will tell no one but your armies what to do." Her voice was level, but the tips of her hair and fingers had lit on fire and even Damien knew that meant to shut up. "You came to me for help and help I gave you, but don't try me petulant king…you do not frighten me." His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth so he merely nodded hastily and rose to leave. "You will know them when it's time," Damien heard her voice as he left the cave as fast as he could. "And not before!" He felt a blast of heat on his bottom as he teleported himself out of there and back to the lavish comfort of his own room.
After he'd gathered his breath he cursed the demon, no one treated him like that. He'd never admit that he would never have cursed her to her face, but in the sumptuous solitude of his own room, he had no fear.
But he did smell something burning…what was…? He remembered the blast of heat with a frantic skip of his heart and rushed to his mirror room. The room was round, every inch of wall covered with mirrors. He built it to inspect every inch of his clothing designs and now it showed the rear of his pants was completely burnt off and his heart covered underpants showed clear as day.
Curse that demon.
(A/N: Hope you all liked the first chapter of Crystal Vengeance. I am terribly sorry that it was posted a week later than I had anticipated. I lost use of my computer for almost a week and it had the half written chapter on it. Boo for stupid computers. But here it is now, my computer is fixed and I hope that you all enjoy and review your hearts out!
Want to acknowledge my nod to Kaline Reine's contest entry. While I'd already planned flashbacks for Jeaule in this story, I did have some inspiration from her in the form of a sentence you probably recognized if you read her entry. And a nod to Miru88 for the 'wearing her hair up at the wedding' idea and the clip, though I changed it to a hair comb. Again, though I had planned something similar…I do wish to give a nod to both of them for that.
BIG thanks to all who read and reviewed the last chapter of NCOD:
angelbabe2000, BattleofEvermore, darklady26, Fun-SizedWitch, Kaline Reine, Kerichi, maskedpainter, miru88, notwritten, phantome101, Princess1980, roguegambit and The Banshee's Tears
You guys are awesome!)