The Fall

By LiteraryLitany

Chapter 2: Breathe Life into a Stone

His hair was still a silver-gold and wispy, but it's chaos sat tamed by a circlet of what looked like pure black crystal. His eyebrows still slid up toward it in the elfin shape, but no make-up adorned him. There was no need. His skin was flawless as moonlight. It didn't need to glitter because the pure milky tone of it shone. And his eyes… She knew now why he'd hid himself last time. And she had no doubt that this was his true self. If she'd seen those eyes as a naïve young fifteen-year-old, she would have run screaming at the first sight. Even now she tensed, as her senses screamed danger and her heart skipped a beat.

One eye was the swirling, yes, moving, color of dark forests in summer that swallowed the unwary wanderer. The other was a glacial blue, of the ice children think can take their weight but just deliver them to a watery grave. Or perhaps the grave at the end of a cliff.

She recoiled, tearing her gaze from the madness that awaited in his eyes and down the rest of him. Simple grey clothing, somewhere between Ancient Greek and Elizabethan, but the grey shifted like storm-clouds, and the pendant that glittered at his chest seem to be sparkling with some kind of energy.

"You have no power over me." She said, almost on reflex, because she was scared and vulnerable and had no idea what else to do or say. The words sounded pathetic even to her own ears.

"Ah, but I do, my dear Sarah." Had his voice gained a hint of thunder in it? Perhaps lent to him by his new appearance? "This." He took her free hand in his gloved one, bending to kiss her knuckles. "Now belongs to me." She tried to pull her hand away from his lips and the strange shivers it was giving her, but her arm wouldn't obey her. It stayed limp and pliant. Her throat clogged with panic.

Jareth smiled up at her, eyes flashing with that dangerous amusement. "Don't worry, my dear. As much as the thought of claiming you completely arrests me, it would not be complete without your consent." He straightened and sat on the bed beside her, so they were both nearer to even in height. "I would like to declare my intentions to obtain that." His eyes slid over her silk-hidden frame. "The proper way. So, for my first gift…" He sighed, a wistful sound of many things he'd like to do to her being given up for the time being. She found herself blushing, and she was fairly sure he wasn't telling her body to do that.

"I give you, Sarah Williams, free reign of your body, without cost or obligation." The air shivered the same way she had under Jareth's touch and suddenly her body felt a bit heavier. More fragile. More mortal. She simply stared at him, not sure she understood or believed everything that was happening. "And for my second gift…" He snapped his fingers and a silvery roll of fabric plopped onto the bed. "A gown, that you may join me for dinner this evening." He rose again, stepping back but not closing the curtain, one last surveying look over her shocked face.

Jareth winked. "Do feel free to give either gift back to me personally if they displease you." And the Goblin King was gone.

It took about a half hour wandering about the obviously feminine room, finding under things from several centuries and cultures to realize Jareth intended hers to be a long-term stay. It took about five minutes in the completely modern-outfitted wet dream of a bathroom for her not to care. It was Greek Marble in design, with statues of naked nymphs holding up towels that looked soft as clouds. The sinks and counters were covered in expensive top-of-the-line make-up, shampoos and soaps, with a few jars and tinctures with long descriptions instead of labels. A golden mermaid mosaic was swimming through the bottom of a Jacuzzi the size of most bathrooms she'd been in. The faucet was another statue, this one all-too-familiar.

Jareth, looking impish, sat indolently with outstretched hand, a hole there for the water to stream from. Oh, and he was completely, if a bit unrealistically, naked. She shook her head to herself and rolled her eyes as she turned her attention to all the beauty products, considering. She was feeling vulnerable. Like this was a dream, or a nightmare. A good mask of make-up and the chance to look stunning might be a comfort. On the other hand, getting ogled by Jareth all night wouldn't be. And since that was obviously what he wanted…

The Goblin King was up to his kidnapping tricks again. It was about time she stopped being the helpless victim. Time to show Jareth she wouldn't play the damsel in distress for him. She was a twentieth-century girl and she was going to start acting like it. Sure enough the chests and wardrobes lining one wall had other clothes, again the odd hodge-podge of different eras. Unfortunately, unlike the comfy-looking modern underwear, all the pieces present were formal. Meant to show her off, no doubt.

She pondered everything present critically, then spotted her life-saver. A pair of dress slacks paired with a blouse that would have been banned in any office. There was a button-up in the chest of night-clothes though, and together she looked properly professional and off-limits. Her hair went back in a pony-tail and she didn't bother with make-up. She would have left her legs unshaved but they were still silky smooth. She wondered if Jareth had magicked them, because pretty much all of her hair was either unusually compliant or not there at all.

She'd also noticed her newly acquired barely-healthy thinness that was so fashionable in the magazines, but she had a feeling that had more to do with her recovery than Jareth's preferences. That odd mix of heaviness and fragility to her body. If she had to describe what it felt like in one word… Potential. She would either backslide or come out even stronger. Much stronger, if the new-found easiness of her steps was any indication.

Her first exercise of strength would be mental though, as she planned to show the Goblin King who was boss. There was a knock at her door and the unmistakable giggly-gruffness of a goblin voice on the other side, although this too seemed darker-sounding than she remembered. "M'Lady, I'm to escort you to the King's table."

Feeling very smug about her plain, professional appearance, she opened the door grandly and very nearly jumped out of her newly acquired loafers. The goblin came up to her chest and did not in any way resemble her memories of them, unlike Jareth. It was shaped vaguely like the pudgy, pointy goblins, but it was black as shadow, for the most parts, with it's shape defined in grays and blacker blacks. Except it's eyes, which were a glowing yellow, and it's mouth, which bore an almost equally yellow grin.

The Cheshire Cat, she decided, had been vaguely related to goblins, because that was who it reminded her of. "Um…" She tried not to be nervous, as she remembered not acting like prey was the first defense against dangerous animals. "You look different." She said dumbly instead.

The goblin smiled. "Most'a d'time we look how 'is Majesty wants. Dis is wha we look like all natural-like." Which was somehow… Comforting. That Jareth hadn't ordered them to put on a show for her.

"Alright then. Which way?" She asked, gathering a more business-like mien. The Goblin eyed her outfit but said nothing, shuffling off down the stone corridor. She followed, worried when she began to lose track of the twisting turns and stairs. The castle too was different than her last visit. It had gained laughing shadows and stunning moonlit windows and balconies. She had an impression of spiraling bannerettes and glittery-eyed gargoyles out those windows before the goblin led her down to what appeared to be the doors of a banquet hall, adorned and festooned with carvings of dancing, laughing figures.

Once again she thought she glimpsed Jareth among them, and was slightly less amused this time, because she thought she recognized some of the masks from her visit to his crystal ballroom. If this dinner turned into more of that she'd have a lot more than just a rebellious attitude ready for His Highness.

The room wasn't quite like the crystal ballroom, although it had plenty of crystal. It was bathed in multi-colored moonlight from stained-glass skylights and the table and chairs seemed as if they had grown out of the ground, a strange mixture of plant and mineral. Despite the grand setting the table was fairly small, and the candlelight gave it an intimate feel despite the intimidating setting.

Trust Jareth to try and be romantic in a cathedral.

She took her seat regally, smugly ignoring the unhappy look Jareth was giving her wardrobe choice. He dismissed her goblin escort with a wave and he skittered off with a suppressed giggle. "You're certainly looking better than I found you, precious, but I have to say I'd prefer you in something more… feminine." His eyes twinkled with a spark of mischief. "Or just those silk sheets."

"Well," Sarah kept her tone even with her posture, not about to be flustered by a little innuendo, "I was anticipating being laughed at anyway, so I might as well not be in anything ridiculous."

He looked wounded. "I wouldn't throw you to the wolves so quickly after your recovery." Implying that he had indeed considered it. "And I would say that looks a great deal more ridiculous than the gown I laid out for you."

"Admittedly there wasn't the unsightly tulle and puffy sleeves of the last one, but-"

"Ah-ah, Sarah." He interrupted. "The last dress was of your own imagination, not mine."

"Yes." She drawled sarcastically. "Your princess prefers to wear plunging necklines and slinky fabrics."

"And corsets." He added with humor. "Don't forget the corsets." There was a pause as she eye-rolled and then before she knew it they were both laughing, although at their own banter or the ridiculousness of the situation she didn't know. Nor did she particularly care, because it felt amazingly nice to just laugh.

When they finished she was smiling, and dinner was served, something befitting a five-star restaurant that left her boneless and happy. She'd cleaned the plate, she was so hungry, but Jareth had held up his hand at her sniffing around his desert. "You'll make yourself sick. Still healing, remember."

Their happy conversation seemed to sputter and die at this reminder of her situation. The openness of the cathedral-room seemed now a clever trick to make it that much harder for her to notice just how trapped she was. Her chest seized up, and she felt a torn panic rising. "Why didn't you just take all of me?" She accused, hating what that paralyzing fear felt like and him for causing it.

"You were in shock." He said simply. "It was your body talking, not your mind, so that was all you could give away in that state."

She pressed her eyes shut. "And if I just give in now? It'll all go away, won't it?"

Sarah could feel his silence pressing on her, but she didn't dare look. "I would not accept it, were you to offer yourself now. You have not fully healed, body or mind." He said finally, voice cold and distant and… angry. At something she couldn't place but should…

Her head felt stuffed with fog, cloying and gray, and she felt the question quiver just behind her lips. What was I doing on that cliff, Jareth? Why did you need to heal me? Why don't I remember!

"I want to go back to my room." She whispered, and the cold, aloof Jareth agreed that she had pressed herself enough for one night. Ominously he suggested they start the rest of her healing tomorrow but she tried not to think about that. Tried not to think about anything as the Goblin King led her back to the room in his palace he'd set aside just for her. And the bed that, very faintly, smelled like him.

Author's Note: Thank you all for your wonderful feedback! Hopefully this chapter will answer a few of the most common questions. And finally introduce us to some Sarah-Jareth banter, my favorite part.