Proud Sarah

by Meiriona

Being a tale of magic, mystery, and very interesting relatives.

2. Chapter One: Time With Me Goes Slow

Proud Sarah. Being a tale of magic, mystery, and really interesting relatives.

"And the hill-king asked his mother to read,
Time with me goes slow. –

How to win proud Margret he might speed,
But that grief is heavy I know."

Sarah, a young woman of some two and a half decades and possessing modest beauty, was reciting poetry in the small, gated courtyard of the private high school where she had been teaching drama now for a year. There was a small garden, left mostly untended save when there was some type of environmental club active on campus. She felt at ease here, as if the iron gates shut out the world and allowed her the freedom to lose herself in the characters' or poet's worlds instead of her own.

""And say how much thou wilt give unto me,"
Time with me goes slow.—

"That herself may into the hill come to thee?"
But that grief is heavy I know."

When Sarah had first read the poem, she had been indignant. The hill king fair tricks a girl into becoming his wife, and then deprives her of her own dear mother out of insecurity and typical male pig headedness? That's not fair!

After all, she reasoned, she'd already given him two sons and a daughter; shouldn't her own mother want to see them? What child would not benefit form a grandmother? He had no right to assume she was speaking ill of him, and then to slap her? Why, Proud Margret should had left him then and there, renounced his claim on her.

Then, Sarah read it again, this time trying to see things from the hill king's perspective, as she wanted to have the poem acted out for a spring skit competition, and she needed to help her actors to live the roles. It was... somehow as if a, a tale from her youth had suddenly been explained to her, as not what she had thought. As more than the side of the story she had been told.

""Thee will I give the ruddiest gold,"
Time with me goes slow. –

"And thy chests full of money as they can hold,"
But that grief is heavy I know."

Sarah felt power in her recitation, as if she'd found a secret rhythm that harmonized with her pulse and that of the earth around her, and matched the words to that rhythm.

"One Sunday morning it fell out so,
Time with me goes slow.—

Proud Margaret unto the church should go,
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And all as she goes, and all as she stays,
Time with me goes slow. –

All the nearer she comes where the high hill lay,
But that grief is heavy I know."

Deep in the Underground, Sarah's words could be heard, spoken soft and clear. Ludo looked up, inquiring "Sawah?" with a longing.

"My Lady…" Didymus asked in a bare whisper.

"So she goeth around the hill compassing,
Time with me goes slow.—

So there openeth a door, and thereat goes she in,
But that grief is heavy I know."

Sarah concentrated on imagining what the hill door would look like, what the world Underhill would look like. To her, it would be a world of glitter and splendour, imposing and welcoming at the same time.

"Proud Margaret stept in at the door of the hill,
Time with me goes slow.—"

Sarah rose, lost in recitation, no longer aware of anything but the words that she was speaking. In the garden outside the Labyrinth, Hoggle yelped as a forgotten fairy bit him. Never before had the words of one not sovereign echoed thus in the Underground.

"And the hill-king salutes her with eyes joyful,
But that grief is heavy I know."

Stepping forth with eyes closed, Sarah did not notice the wind change direction, or the sounds of children and passing cars vanish. She was trying to envision what the Hill King would look like, greeting Proud Margret, a woman he had loved from afar. Such joy, such longing there would be.

"Sarah…" None had ever spoken her name in that manner, save one. One whom she had long since regarded as no more than a dream, a dream evoked by days of reading fairy tales, agonising over her treatment of family, and a subconscious desire to truly grow up. Faltering, Sarah shut tight her eyes, feeling a body behind her, a dizzying vertigo as outdoors became in.

"So he took the maiden upon his knee," And so he did, Sarah gasping with what little breath remained "Time with me goes slow.—" as she was drawn backwards to be seated by gentle yet strong hands clad in soft leather. She lost her resolve then and opened her eyes.

She was no longer in the courtyard, but in a dimly lit throne room she remembered from a long ago dream. Never mind that it was filthy and not at all the Underhill palace she had attributed to the hill king, the next lines came unbidden. Her only link to sanity, to the world she knew, was to continue the poem.

"And took the gold rings and therewith her wed he,
But that grief is heavy I know." She would not turn. She could not. Sarah knew all too well what she would see if she turned around. Oddly proportioned eyes, one bright azure, the other a darker, dilated, eerie cobalt, and a cruel smile that was somehow, impossibly, alluring.

Sarah felt gloved hands cover her own, and into her ear whispered:
"So he took the maiden his arms between,
Time with me goes slow.—
He gave her a gold crown and the name of queen,
But that grief is heavy I know."

"Jareth," Sarah gasped, speaking a name she hadn't heard in ten years, and perhaps had never before uttered. Something cool slipped into her palm.

"Sarah, I am not the hill king, I offered no mother of mine gold to have you bring yourself here."

"Time with thee goes slow." Sarah nodded, wrapped in the embrace of the Goblin King. It was oddly comforting, she felt needed as never before.

"Nor will I strike you on cheek rosie-," Here an amused smirk crossed his face and entered into his voice. "Unless you're asking for it, of course." Both laughed at this, and the tension was broken. Sarah then found it in her to turn and look the Goblin King in the eye. He hadn't aged a day since last she saw him, and the only difference from the image that had haunted her dreams for a time was that these eyes did not seem angered, haughty or teasing, but held a deep look of longing.

"Why, Jareth?" Sarah asked, closing her fingers around the gold band he had slipped her.

"Why?" He repeated disbelievingly. "Why? Because I am the Goblin King!" Jareth said with great mirth. "Because you beat me at my own game, proved yourself my equal, no, my better!" Sarah compared herself then to Proud Margret, who had pursuing her 'Kings then seven, but unto none her hand has she given.' What was she, a prize for the Goblin King? That could not be it, she needed a real reason.

"Because of the fire in your eyes, Sarah! Because you love so deeply you risked your life to save your baby brother." Well, at least that was honesty, and was there some affection in his tone? Sarah thought so, but couldn't be sure.

"Because when I danced with you all those years ago, I saw the woman you would grow into. Because... what no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl." Truth. Sarah had been able to read truth in a person's eyes from the age of fifteen. She never understood how she knew they were telling the truth, it just was suddenly in her mind, the word resonating as if they spoke not to her ears but to her soul. He did love her, or at least he believed he did.

But did he know what ten years had meant for her?

Did he know why she'd become so much closer to Karen and to Toby? How her mother had been killed by her lover, Jeremy, when age began to show on them both and the sight of the young Sarah drove him mad? How Sarah had suspected the abuse stemmed from her visits, and so went less and less to see her mother, knowing it made her sad, but in an effort to protect the woman who had never really protected her? Did Jareth know that Sarah had never told her father any of the reasons why she stopped acting and writing, why she decided she would rather nurture actors and artists than be one herself?

Did Jareth realize she'd never cried for her mother's loss? Or know of the tears she shed in the time she lived with the knowledge that if she went to see her mother, it would lead to beatings for Linda? Why she'd locked away her dreams of fame and instead focused on bringing another that fame.

"But she never forgot her sorrow bound mother, but that grief is heavy, I know" It had been ten years, yet he'd watched respectfully the entire time. What was a decade to a race who measured their lives in centuries? He knew. He knew it all

"Sarah, please." Jareth sounded almost pained, bracing himself for something horrible beyond belief. "I will not ask you again,"

"You never asked once, Jareth. You demanded, you ordered." Sarah argued, pulling away to view him at arms length and glare. Maybe hehad thought of it as asking, Sarah reflected. After all, he was a king. It was possible he wasn't very good at asking for favours or information.

"I didn't, did I?" Jareth amended, brows furrowed. "I'll have to fix that. Well then, Sarah. Will you, can you, ever love me? Could you, would you, rule by my side? Might I, someday, give you a gold crown and the name of queen?"

"Jareth, you're a lousy poet." Sarah remarked wryly, turning the simple gold band over and over between her fingers. "But, yes, I could come to love you, I'm sure. If I came to love you, I would rule by your side, since you obviously need the help. Yes, someday, if the circumstances fall out right, you might name me queen."

He hadn't asked the right questions, you see. Sarah felt proud of herself for the cleverness of her answers, taking pleasure in sidestepping his intent by giving a vague yes, but regretted it slightly when she saw hurt register in his eyes, no matter how quickly he masked it.

"Honestly, are you the Goblin King or not? Don't you know if you want a straight answer, you have to be careful of how you phrase your questions? None of this dancing around the subject. If you want to know, right now, do I love you, and will I marry you or something of the sort, then the answer is no, and it is no because I've spent years considering you a dream, my way of dealing with my mother running off with Jeremy. You can't really fall in love with people you make up, understand. Can that change? Of course, assuming this is real. I'm not fifteen anymore, I understand there's more to the world than the black and white, right and wrong characters I did then."

"Black and white? Right and wrong? What, so was I your villain, dear Sarah? The wicked Goblin King you had to defeat and destroy to live happily ever after?"

Sarah nodded "The Big Bad Wolf. But now, I'm quite a bit older, I've learned more, read much, much more. Looking back now, I guess you're more a Long John Silver."

"Long John to his friends, Long John to the lady friends?" The Goblin King inquired, tugging at Sarah's waist to attempt to move her from knee to lap, with no success. The girl, no, woman really, he had to stop underestimating her, stiffly resisted the strength of his hands. She pulled away, but did not stand. Teasing, taunting, without knowing it.

She wanted to deck him for such a lewd comment, but Sarah knew that would just please him even more. Fighting him was useless; she knew that, because even if she beat him, he'd still win by making her respond. It was infuriating.

"Not a poet and not a gentleman either." She settled for observing.

"But you wouldn't be happy with a poet or a gentleman, now would you, Proud Sarah?"

He was right. Sarah had made certain to avoid dating anyone who had exhibited any type of danger or haught. She had subconsciously shunned anyone who reminded her of the Goblin King. That had meant that she had very few dates, considering the nature of most teenage boys, but that suited Sarah. She graduated early with honours, and soon enough was doing student, and then full time, teaching in drama to high school students, and working on plays at the community centre over the summer. She'd had more dinners with gay men than straight, truthfully. She found too many men arrogant and possessing over inflated egos. But even the sweetest of guys were lacking that grace and charm she so desired.

Not that she would admit it, not for all the little plastic toys in China, but he was right.

"What, so you think you know who I'd be happy with, mister high and mighty goblin king?" Sarah scoffed, turning her head and pulling his arm off her waist.

Jareth sighed, hadn't he already made that abundantly clear? Of course he knew! He knew better than herself whom she would be happy with. Anything less was inconceivable, happy, she would be more than happy! He wouldn't allow it another way!

Sarah seemed then to realize were she was currently was not where she had been when she began her poetry recitation, and panicking, leapt from his lap, though, he noted with great relief, she still held the ring. If she had dropped it, Jareth wasn't sure he'd have been able to restrain himself. "Take me back to the school, right now!" She demanded, outraged and scared.

"Sarah, I did not take you from the school," he said softly, reaching out to nearly brush the sleeve of her shirt, but pulling away at the last second. "I have no power over you, remember?"

"Then how did I…?" A thought. "'Proud Margret stept in at the door of the hill,' I said it and stepped forward!"

Jareth shook his head. "Your poem is a translation of a Scandinavian one, those words alone don't have the magic in them to cross worlds. The original might, but not those. There had to be something else. Could any of the fair folk been about?"

"Fairies? No, too many children for sprites and brownies, and pixies would find themselves outclassed and shamed." Sarah chewed the inside of her cheek furiously, wondering how she had gotten to the Underground.

"What about Robin?" Jareth said, speaking more to himself. It was a habit that came of living with goblins, one became rather fond of ones own voice, especially if it meant hearing less of theirs. "My uncle has always been soft on that hobgoblin, and Puck has the power to open a gate, if he wants."

"Puck? Your uncle? Wait, Puck, the Puck? Never mind, no. I'm in a populated area, and I doubt any creature of Faerie would be able to stand it. And the courtyard has wrought iron gates!" This last flash of insight brought a hiss from the Goblin King. Cold iron was poison to all who dwelt Underhill, in the Underground, within the Fae realms.

"Then it must have been you."

"How?"

"I don't know." Jareth admitted, tapping his mouth a few times in thought. "But I'm sure I can find out. Given time."

Sarah stomped a foot. "I don't have time! For all I know five minutes could be a week above!"

"It isn't." Jareth told her matter-of-factly.

"But time does run differently here."

"There is that." Jareth produced a crystal, enlarged it to the size of a melon, and set it spinning in the air. Sarah opened her mouth to ask what he was doing. "Be quiet. I'm going to see if I can get information." Sarah closed her mouth and frowned, not pleased with the dismissive tone he'd used. A picture appeared on the crystal, distorted by the sideways angle at which Sarah was viewing it, though it was undoubtedly clear enough to Jareth.

The image was of a dark featured matron with a ladle in one hand, shouting at the retreating figures of three boys "Try that again anyou'll be dinner next evening!"

"Hello Rainie. Having trouble with the apprentices?"

"Why Goblin King, what brings you ta call? Not that I mind, an if you're wantin' more beasties for yer castle, you can have the lads."

"Actually, I was hoping to get a word with the master, is he free?"

Rainie, dressed in a loose over tunic and crisp apron that minded Sarah of the powerful cook of a wealthy household, shook her head and 'tsked' disapprovingly.

"Locked in the study with that damned flower again. Won't leave for anythin."

Jareth sighed. "See if you can't convince him, or else I'll have to go to my aunt and ask if the maiden or crone would come, as that dumb old bird refuses to help."

"Oh, he wouldn't like that," Rainie grinned, quickly vanishing from the surface of the crystal.

"Who is that?" Sarah asked, shifting from foot to foot. She wanted to sit down, but Jareth's throne was the only remotely sanitary place to do so, and she was NOT sitting on his lap again.

"Urania Midthorne, mistress of house at the Bardic school. She'll get that old bastard Taliesin down here soon enough."

Ok. This wasn't making much sense to her, but Sarah decided to just roll with it, see what happened.

"Bah! My most troublesome student, Jareth what do you want?" The man who came into view didn't look that old, Sarah thought, considering Taliesin was a 6th century poet, if her knowledge of history wasn't failing her. His hair had once been black, though now it was a grey that seemed almost wolfish. He had wide set sharp blue eyes and a hawk like nose. Yes, his face was lined, greatly, but something in his posture suggested to Sarah that he could live another thousand years.

"I wasn't aware I commanded the title of the merlin's most difficult student." A smile quirked the Goblin King's features.

"I didn't say you were difficult, you pompous brat," Sarah stifled a giggle. "I said troublesome. Always, those women coming to check in on you. Hovering vixens, your relatives." She decided the old man was quite agreeable, if he could scold Jareth like this and have him smile about it.

"I take it you mean my aunt?"

"Of course I mean your aunt! You think I likedhaving Queen Titania, damn near omnipotent ruler of the Fae, dropping into my school while I'm trying to teach a dozen teenage boys magic?"

Sarah's eyebrows shot up. "You're Queen Titania's nephew?"

"Yes," Jareth snapped. "And I thought I told you to keep quiet."

'You did.' Sarah thought dangerously,'But you have no power over me'

"Who's that?" Taliesin asked, curious. He leaned forward and his long hair fell into his face.

"That, my dear Merlin, is why I called you. Remember that… unfortunate loss I suffered a few years back?"

"The little chit of a girl who beat you? Only second ever to win againstany Goblin King, and her without any sacrifice? That one even embarrassed me, you know."

"I'm terribly sorry I shamed you, Taliesin," Jareth shot back insolently. "But she's come back to cause me trouble again, you see."

"So you want a love potion this time? Or a carefully crafted enchantment? Or have you already offered her the world?"

"Do not taunt me!" Jareth spat angrily.

"I'm the merlin, and your teacher, I'll taunt you all I like."Anyone could see that he'd touched a nerve, and the old bard wisely sidestepped the subject. "So how did she return, anyway?"

"That is why I called you. I have no idea."

"You checked for incantations?"

Jareth quickly relayed what they had already gone over to Merlin, who scowled.

"She ever done magic? Any Fae blood in her or the like?"

"If there is anything at all tinged with magic, it would be on he mother's side. Her baby half brother was without a doubt the most mundane child I'd ever seen."

"Well, let me see her, Jareth."Taliesin gestured impatiently as Jareth raised an eyebrow in confusion."Move the damned crystal so she's in range. Dannan, I use the large mirrors for lessons these days, I'm scrying you in my water glass."

Abashed, the Goblin King shifted the floating sphere to take in Sarah, arms crossed and feathers sticking to her black slacks, she did not look amused, to say the very least.

"Hellfire!" Taliesin shouted, before vanishing from the crystal and storming into the room in person. Jareth didn't even get a chance to rise, the Druid moved that fast. "Are you blind and stupid?" He had the goblin king by the ear. If it weren't so frightening, it would have been funny. As it was, Sarah could only reach back with her hands to find a wall to lean against.
"It's no wonder she beat you, you arrogant, ignorant, self absorbed, spoilt little beast!" Jareth moved to struggle, but found his arms pinned, rather painfully, behind his back and himself forced to his knees in front of Sarah "Look at her, you ridiculous fool! In her veins flows the blood of the only other ever to win back a child. THE child. And his too! The latent power in her could match any minor Fae untrained and un awakened! AND. YOU. GAVE. HER. FAE. FOOD!" The old man roared, red faced and trembling in rage.

"Uhm, not to seem, you know, rude, but, how about you enlighten the mortal?" What an image it made, poor Sarah scared senseless as the Goblin King that had frightened and enchanted her so completely years ago grimaced in pain from the grip of an elderly man in midnight dark tunic and leggings shoving him to the ground in front of her.

"I suppose," The Goblin King managed to say without getting chicken feathers, or worse, in his mouth, "That it is good I didn't call my aunt to bring the maiden or crone."

"That." Spat Merlin, "Is the biggest fucking understatement of your entire reign." He released his former student, who slowly stood, not even attempting to hide the amount of pain he had lately been in.

"Let's take this somewhere we can sit down, shall we?"

Taliesin made a noise of approval. "For this story, she'll need it."

Thatdid not sound too promising.

When Jareth had seated them each on a divan in a parlour, he covered his face with a hand and asked "Where do I start?"

"Perhaps the beginning," Taliesin prompted.

"All right, in the beginning, there was the Word." A book flew off the table and hit the Goblin King in the side of the head.

"Notthat beginning, you smartass! Fine!" The merlin straightened in his seat, taking control of the tale. "In Jareth's grandfather's time, the first children were wished away to the goblins. Now old Drystan was only beaten once, by a girl of bare ten years. She had wished away he baby half brother, angry he had made her mother remarry 'that dreadful king' who had killed her father, angry she'd been shunted aside to the position of nursemaid."

"Sounding familiar, dear Sarah?"

"Shut up, Jareth." Sarah and Taliesin said in unison, shocking the Goblin King into silence.

"Now, as I was saying. The girl was of a powerful bloodline, and this was in the days when your world had lots of magic. Her line was know for harnessing the natural magic, absorbing and generating enormous amounts of occult potential. She didn't bother running the Labyrinth. She just look Drystan in the eye and said 'You will give back my brother. You will not harm him in any way. I will protect him, and he will become a great king. Once that has happened, I will return here in his place.' She didn't ask, she told him. And he agreed. Not because he was afraid of her, even though if she did try to fight him he knew she would be able to hold her own for a while, but because he was impressed by her courage and her promise. He told her about an island that was between her world and the underground, where she would live until her time was over and it would fade from her world for good. She was a devoted sister, protecting her half brother with the great magic she learned. She even bore a child by him, though he knew not who he lay with, in his crowning as High King." Taliesin paused, passing the tale back to Jareth.

"And the boy became a great king, his knights the talk of nations." Jareth recited, as if in class and very, very bored. "Tales were told of him, though his loyal sister was portrayed as a villain. But Morgan did not care, she had saved her brother, and if Avalon was to be her prison for eternity, she would resign herself to it."

"Wait, Morgan, Avalon, are you saying King Arthur was wished away as a baby?!?" Sarah gasped, sitting straight up.

"And the last horse finally crosses the finish line." Jareth drawled prompting the young woman to lob an aptly named throw pillow at him. He caught it, of course, but the sentiment was there nonetheless.

"And you, young miss, have the blood of Morgan in you. Arthur too, unless I miss my guess. I'd say you're a direct descendent of Mordred. "

"So what does that mean?" Sarah asked, looking nervously to the merlin. She was related to Morgan la Fae? And how on earth did he figure this out just by looking at her?

"It means, when this lummox went and fed you fae food,"

"I had ONE, highly specialized, minor, minimal energy, spell on it." Jareth interrupted.

Taliesin continued as if nothing had been said. "He awakened the magic sleeping in your blood. Even this far removed, Morgan's line absorbs magical energy. When you spoke your words with intent in a small area closed by cold iron, you tapped the energy that had been contained there, produced by growing things. You can do magic. Not like Jareth, but like myself and that witch, Morgan. Incantations or gestures, just thought if you were trained."

One thing hadn't become clear in this explanation. "So, who are the maiden and crone you kept mentioning?"

"Vivian and Morgan. I do hope you've read enough to know who Vivian is."

"Oh!That's why Merlin didn't want you talking to them. Hah, it's the past repeating itself. Morgan beats Drystan, Vivian beats Merlin, Sarah beats Jareth!"

"Ahem!" Taliesin cleared his throat. "I'm going back to my school. Get your sorceress girlfriend back where she belongs, and next time a candidate wishes away a babe, use your second sight, for goodness sake!" With a shimmering wave of air, he vanished.

"I want to meet Morgan." Sarah declared.

"No."

"Why not? She's my ancestress."

"I said no, Sarah. Go home. Say whatever words you like, think hard on going home, and leave me before the goblins find their way back from the forest where I sent them. You've been gone for five hours above."

"Shit! Uhm… oh screw it, there's no place like home, there's no place like home" Sarah closed her eyes and felt the air change this time as she returned to the courtyard. The sun had set, and she shivered, glad the school day had been over when she 'left'.

Armed with new knowledge about herself, Sarah smiled. Now that she knew about her magic, she could go bother the goblin king whenever she felt like it. And, she realized, go see her oldest friends. Sure, the time thing might be difficult, but she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

She only hoped it wouldn't fall apart under her feet.

"But that grief is heavy I know."

---

Well, the utterly sappy beginning of this chapter is hopefully made up for by Taliesin and his scolding. To my friends on Gaia, Tyra and Ember specifically, hope you have fun reading this. I've got plans for this to go a LONG way, but with my laziness, don't expect more than a few updates a year without much prodding. Reviews and PM's will make me write. Otherwise, Proud Sarah will just go into rotation with all my other fics and be updated more or less when I feel like it. Ask my readers for my Titans stories, I leave you hanging for AGES without motivation.