Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made
I
The Goblin King never dreamt.
What was before him, then—the lethargic swirl of colors, the porcelain-like faces hidden behind delicately nightmarish and elegantly bawdy masks, the ponderous twinkle of lights floating through the air like snowflakes—couldn't be products of his unconscious mind. Hushed laughter and the hum of conversation created a melodious undercurrent to the violins' haunting waltz.
A chime of bells announced the setting of the sun. Those gathered for the celebration whispered excitedly, and anticipation sparkled through the air. Jareth slid his mask in place, joined the gala, and delighted murmurs arose in his wake. He took his turn in the dances, never lingering with one partner, until long shadows crawled into the corners of the room. Musical sounds of pleasure drifted from the hidden recesses, and Jareth smiled with satisfaction at the debauchery taking place around him.
As he lounged among the lasciviousness, he caught the occasional glimpse of those in the crowd not so finely garbed.
Mortals.
Their presence was unsurprising on this, this first night of La Bealtaine—May Day, they now called it—when the Veil between the worlds thinned. The humans' wondering gazes and breathless awe delighted the fairer folk; there was much sport to be had with their child-like naivete.
A peculiar darkness slipped along the edge of Jareth's vision, arresting his attention. Another mortal…but this one very different. A shadow punctuated by pale skin. Her dress was as colorless as the void, a black feathered mask hid half of her face, and her dark hair was gathered up with artful carelessness. The voluptuous folds of her skirts whispered mischievous secrets; the curve of her mouth promised sinful answers.
She appeared to have come prepared for this celebration when others of her kind wandered, lost and afraid. Jareth couldn't help but follow her movements with avid curiosity, and he was hardly the only one affected by her. She exerted a strange gravitational force on those around her, pushing and pulling them into place like stars caught in orbit. Those in her path stepped aside, only to trail yearningly after her.
For all her apparent confidence, though, her steps were hesitant, and she paused to search the faces around her. It was as though she had expected to find something here and was bewildered by its absence.
Jareth slipped through the merrymakers, carefully following her until she came to another uncertain halt. Sliding up behind her, he curled leather-clad fingers around her shoulders.
"You're lost."
She leaned into him, tipped her chin up and her head back against his chest, allowing him to admire the long column of her neck. The corner of her mouth stretched into a smile. "I was," she murmured. "But you're here now."
A curious reply, but one Jareth simply could not think about in any depth as her hands slid between their bodies. Her fingers danced over the firm muscles of his thighs before slowly making their ascent. Fire licked wildly through his veins, and the urge to bury himself in that pale skin coiled hotly within him. His hands convulsed around her shoulders, his body jerked into her touch. Her throaty chuckle was as enticing as it was iniquitous.
A violin wailed the first notes of the Devil's Trill.
Apprehension slid up Jareth's spine.
Ignoring the prickle of caution, he whispered, "Would you care to dance?"
Her chin dipped in consent, and Jareth gathered her greedily into his arms. They danced as though in a dream, never separating long before coming back together since he was loathe to see her with another. He was mesmerized by her, transfixed by the graceful line of her neck, the alluring temptation of her bare shoulders…the provocative curve of her mouth. Mortal she may have been, but there was a genteelness in the way she moved, laughed, and spoke. Jareth idly wondered who she was in her world.
A dolorous bell tolled, signaling the setting of the moon. The woman in Jareth's arms smiled, perhaps a little wistfully.
"Thank you for the lovely evening, Goblin King. You're still a wonderful partner."
Another mysterious comment. Jareth's brow creased. "Have we met?"
She leaned up to brush cool lips against his cheek, pressed against him one last time…
Jareth reached to capture her before she flitted away. She couldn't leave him like this, burning for her, her scent and the intoxicating feel of her body lingering like a ghost.
But she moved as deftly through the crowd as she had on the dance floor, using whatever magic she possessed to hinder his pursuit. Masked revelers muttered mocking apologies as they stumbled into his path. He turned, searching…turned again, but all around him were laughing mouths and spinning figures, making his senses reel, until—there. Tiny goblin faces carved into her ivory comb leered at him from dark tresses. Jareth shouldered through the crowd, ignoring sneered protests and derisive mirth, lunged forward to seize the folds of her skirts—
—and awoke clutching the curtains surrounding his bed.
"Sire? You must begin preparing for the first night of the gala."
Jareth blinked granules of sleep from his eyes; stared at the rumpled sheets entwined around his legs. His heart still pounded with anticipation, desire slicked his skin and raced hotly through him. But it had all been…
Impossible.
Because Jareth never dreamt.
II
He searched.
Unsure where he was, or how he'd arrived, Jareth wandered through a forest thick with shadows and secrets. The narrow path he walked kept the tangled undergrowth at bay, but only just. The trees dipped clawing branches toward him in a passing breeze, maliciously curious of his purpose.
He searched for...
"Hoo?"
He couldn't remember, but urgency drove him forward, quickened his pace. A shimmer of pale light and a twinkle of laughter beckoned him, and he broke into a run.
Jareth burst from the trees and found himself on the dark shores of a lake silvered by the swollen moon...
…and she was there, running her ivory comb through starless locks as she slowly walked out of the lake. A wordless melody spun from her lips, the sound full of Stygian heartache and despair. The song trailed off when she saw him, but she appeared wholly unsurprised by his presence. She calmly gathered her wet hair up with her comb, then let her arms fall to her sides. Droplets clung to the curve of her breasts, hips, and thighs, and sparked like diamonds. Tonight, her mouth held a whisper of sadness, but green fire shone from her eyes.
Jareth was entranced all over again.
"Who are you?" he asked.
She smiled, a guileless expression he wasn't sure he should trust. "Who would you like me to be?"
He nearly missed the taunting lilt in the question, so distracted was he by the smoky sound of her voice. It clouded his mind with visions of sweat-slicked skin and throaty cries of pleasure. Jareth lazily drank in every inch of her, from her bare feet to the luscious swell of her breasts, before meeting her gaze again. He bared his teeth in a devilish smile.
"Mine," he replied.
He longed to touch her, this time to feel the satin of her skin beneath him, the tangled silk of her hair around his fingers. He wanted to crawl inside of her and lose himself forever. The need pulsed through him with an urgency that forced him forward, reaching for her.
Her laughter glinted around him, like sunbeams striking crystal. "Greedy Goblin King," she admonished, easily avoiding him. "There are some things in this world that might never be yours."
"Everything is attainable."
"But at a price."
There was danger here, a part of him knew, but her voice held a challenge he couldn't resist, and her presence was a riddle his curiosity burned to solve.
"What price would you pay, Goblin King?"
She circled around him, moving before he could turn to catch sight of her. She was a sparkling glow at the corner of his eye, sultry laughter teasing his ears. Jareth frowned, thinking if he could just see her, if she would stand still and let him memorize the lines of her face, he might know her.
"What would you ask of me?"
"A game," she whispered. "If you can catch me before the moon sets, you can have me."
She led the chase through the woods, her delighted laughter a leash pulling him this way and that. She allowed him to draw tantalizingly close, then sprinted out of reach. Jareth ground his teeth in determination, used his frustration as fuel to close the distance between them, to draw near enough his fingertips brushed the smooth skin of her back as he strained to grab her—
Cold water splashed around his ankles, and Jareth came to a surprised halt. She stood before him, waist deep in the icy lake with a melancholy expression on her face, as though his failure upset her.
"Perhaps next time, my Goblin King."
Unwilling to concede to rules not of his own making, Jareth quickly waded farther into the lake.
The moon kissed the edge of the horizon—
—and Jareth sat up in his bed with a grunt of agitation, his arms still outstretched. He regarded the familiar setting of his bedroom through narrowed eyes.
It was time to put an end to this nonsense.
Interlude
"It is your distinct misfortune to have attracted the attention of a water maid, my lord."
"Misfortune?"
"They are creatures who lure men to lakes to drown them."
"Nonsense."
A sound akin to book pages rustling came from the hunched man beside Jareth as he shrugged. "Believe what you will, Majesty," the wiseman said. "I can only tell you the lore."
Jareth contemplated the late afternoon sky. The onset of evening bruised the normally dusty orange, and a few brave stars pierced the growing darkness.
"Could I find her whilst awake?" Jareth asked.
"Only if she wishes it."
"A dangerously vague response, old man," Jareth warned.
"One cannot postulate answers when there are none to give. The woman is considered a myth, a fabrication to explain the unexplainable, perhaps. She is the embodiment of a poor soul who lost her life to water, and thus cannot be parted from the element for extended periods."
"Then she is a phantom?"
"She is more harmful than an apparition composed of such diaphanous will, Majesty."
"And my dreams?"
Jareth never dreamt. His kind lacked imagination, the very weft and weave of dreams. Instead, he spun the wishes of mortals into nocturnal visions, gave them their hopes, showed them their fears, balanced their secrets upon his fingertips. Human dreams were fascinating in their complexity, magnificent in their novelty, but were something he could never have. That he should, now…
The wiseman shook his head. "This I cannot explain to you, my king. If I may be so bold as to offer a caveat?" Jareth nodded his consent. "She is a creature empowered by the sorrow of her death. Her abilities are directly proportional to the strength of her anguish. If she is able to lure you, not only to water, but to dreams, she is a frightful force. Be wary, my lord."
"I must have her."
"Goblin King and Master of the Labyrinth you may be, but this maid will surely claim her victory if you simply yearn for her. She is not a creature who desires carnal pleasures, but the pleasure of death to those whom she feels have wronged her. To have her means to give her your life."
"I value your counsel on this, wiseman."
"Then you must find what she wants from you, Majesty. It is what drives her, and what will set her free."
III
Will o' the wisps gathered, admiring their flickering blue reflections in the water. Cautious of the fairy lights, Jareth remained on shore until he heard her plaintive melody. She smiled when she saw him and walked from the lake to circle him, just out of reach as before.
"You know the game, Goblin King. But tonight it is in earnest. The Moon is losing her power, and you will not find me until she's full again." Jareth remained perfectly still, hands clenched at his sides. A muscle in his cheek jumped when she pressed all those luscious curves into his back. "So catch me," she breathed hotly in his ear.
Unable to control the throb of hunger, Jareth spun around. His grasping fingers captured only air, and the chase began. This time, instead of leading him into the forest, she followed the contour of the lake until the moon hovered over the horizon. As she slipped into the water, her laughter dared him to follow.
A scudding cloud severed the silvery light and cast darkness around him. When it passed, Jareth stood alone, chest-deep in the lake. He frowned, turning, searching, but could see no break in the smoothness. He would receive no answers. With a heavy sigh, he began to make his way to shore.
Strong hands locked around his ankles, yanked his feet out from under him. Icy water gushed into his mouth, drowning his surprised cry. Fingers laced through his hair and held him in place. Jareth thrashed, desperate to relieve the terrible burn in his lungs. Precious bubbles slipped through his lips and floated morosely to the surface.
A cool mouth slid over his. She sucked the remaining air from him with one deadly kiss. The stars fell from the heavens to burst before his eyes. Darkness crawled through his vision, blacker than Death's shroud.
"Remember me."
The voice came from nowhere and everywhere.
"Remember the girl who once braved the Goblin King's labyrinth. For ten hours, her world glittered with magic and the possibility of having all her dreams come true…What no one knew was the adventure overshadowed everything in her life."
He could see her, a slim, beautiful young woman who had seen more than any mortal should.
"And you said I was cruel."
Had he said she had cruel eyes? Now they searched, always searched, as she uncovered all the corners of her world, as she sat with scholars and royalty alike. No matter what she learned, no matter what she discovered, it was never enough. Her world had long ago lost what she sought.
"Magic."
Then she found it, a gateway to the world that would fulfill her desire, in the last place she expected.
"In a little pond skirted by snow lilies and home to white swans. I had to back to go forward."
It rained that day, swelling the pond beyond its banks and wetting the grass. She slipped, fell, struck her head…and when she opened her eyes again, she found herself on the other side of the Veil.
"Not as the girl you once knew."
But as a creature who mourned the loss of her mortal existence. In her world, crimson stained the water lapping through her hair. Screaming blue and red lights refracted painfully from the raindrops as she gazed lifelessly at the heavy moon hanging against its velvety backdrop.
"It took me a long time to realize where I was…then I wanted to find you, to give you the same unattainable dreams you'd left me with…"
Vengeance. It sprinkled her words with bitterness, and its strength would kill him.
"I wanted to blame you. For everything. But now…"
The anchor holding him slowly released…
"Now, I just want you to remember me."
…and Jareth watched as though from above as his body drifted to the surface of the lake.
"Remember me, Goblin King."
IV
Jareth eyes snapped open. He sat up and put a hand to his chest, taking comfort in the steady beat under his palm. He rubbed his face to rid himself of the last of his nocturnal vision, ran his fingers through his hair—
—stared at his hands when they came away wet.
Throwing the blankets aside, Jareth rose and crossed to the bedroom window. Outside, a few stars remained stalwart against the morning chasing away the night. Beyond the Goblin City, his labyrinth stretched toward a dusty hill crowned by gnarled trees.
The place where it all started.
The crystal hovered with bubble-like delicacy over the tips of his fingers. He remembered her; he'd never forgotten her. Beautiful in her tenacity, terrifying in her love, wondrous in her loyalty. Jareth gave the crystal his memories and his dream. He spun them into reality, gave them pale skin, sable tresses, and sparking green eyes.
"Sarah Williams," he whispered.
Her smoky laughter coiled through the room. He didn't dare turn, fearing this was only another dream.
"Clever Goblin King."
Her cool words ghosted over his bare skin, her mouth traced an icy line along the slope of his shoulder. Jareth closed his eyes as she stepped in front of him, still afraid she wasn't real. When she urged his head down, brushed her lips against his, he finally allowed himself to look at her.
Green fire lit her gaze, the twin flames dancing with her delight. Jareth sighed against her lips, outlined her with his hands, gave her shape and substance. Her skin warmed under his touch until she was no longer a specter bedeviling his slumber, but a young woman full of life. She would never be human; made from the stuff of wishes and dreams, she had acquired a unique form of immortality.
Despite being Sarah Williams once again, she still longed for the serenity of the water. When the moon was full, she would walk the shores of a silvery lake, singing doleful melodies. The fire in her eyes would dim as she remembered what it was to be mortal, and for three nights, Jareth would patiently await her return.
It was a small price to pay for their dreams.
A/N: A break from more Serious Business, this is a story I know isn't original, but I wrote anyway. And it's that time of year for my annual re-read of The Count of Monte Cristo, so I have revenge on the brain...
"Devil's Trill," belongs to Tartini, and all characters belong to their respective creators.
Originally betaed by the lovely startraveller776, but has since been added to and rewritten, so any mistakes are mine.