Title: Disenchanted
Author: Loki
Rating: R
in every dance no steps are placed and every path mistakes are made and if all paths lead but to the grave then let us dance along our way
~Faith and the Muse (Scars Flown Proud, Evidence of Heaven)~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Chapter Two (You Hate Me)
Sarah dreaded the moment the words left her mouth. It was because of that---because she remembered exactly how difficult the Labyrinth had been. There was so much to fear lurking within it, she told herself this over and again---all the while knowing deep down that her dread came, not from the fear of returning---but of not returning. She had been tempted to call on the Goblin King before, if only to prove to herself that it all had been real. But she could never even get the first words out. Her throat always closed, it didn't want the truth, only wanted to continue with the uncertainty. There was comfort in not knowing either way. If she had said those words and all remained as it was . . . she didn't think she could ever recover.
For a moment the words hung in the air, and everything was still.
And then *he* was there. She turned to the window to face him, keeping in her childish sigh of relief. It was real, and that eternally skeptical voice became silent, listening. This time there was no billow of cape, no flurry of tinkling chimes and sparkling glitter. Just him.
And he was more terrifying than her memory had painted.
"Sarah," he tsked, his voice wrapping around her like plush velvet, "Haven't you learned by now?"
She smiled, it being true despite the fact that she knew he was mocking her. "I guess I'm a glutton for punishment." She pulled her dark hair to one shoulder, stared at him nonchalantly. He almost smiled at that remark, she saw. And what was that? Disapproval? He looked upon her as if a child. For some reason it infuriated her. She expected his condescending air, but it wasn't mere arrogance on his part, it was that belief in his glittering eyes. That she was still only a child, a naughty and foolish one at that. What more had she expected? 'It's good to see you again, Sarah'? She huffed, crossing her arms over her breast. You rejected him, you threw his offers right back in his face. Should he be glad to see you?
"So, what dreams will you offer me this time?" She forced bitter indifference into her voice; she refused to give him the pleasure of trembling words. He smiled very small and a perfectly formed crystal orb materialized in his gloved hand. The moonlight struck its smooth surface, seemed to get caught in it. His other hand raised and the crystal began to weave and twist before her eyes. She couldn't keep from staring at it, the light dancing across her face as if reflecting off rippling water. And then it disappeared in a small shower of gold glitter. She blinked as his hands dropped. He laughed softly and something glinted in it, something small and hateful.
"You wished yourself away," his voice flattened out, its mocking tint the only colour left to it. "The rules change."
She stood quietly, adjusting and readjusting the strap of her book bag. His mismatched eyes flicked to it momentarily, then back to her carefully veiled face. "Then," her voice rose, her mouth forming around the words grimly, "what are the new rules?" Inside she was shuddering. She hadn't thought too far ahead, or that altering the words would ultimately alter the 'game'.
"Why did you wish yourself away, Sarah? Have you lost all interest in your life here?---"
"It's not that," she snapped quickly, despising the fact that his words made some remote sense to her. Life is boring, she thought, but life was boring before I ran his stupid Labyrinth. It has nothing to do with him.
"O, is that so?" his eyes bored into her faithlessly. "When you woke up that morning it almost drove you insane, didn't it? Because you had changed so much---and the world was still the same. You resented it." His soft accent wove through his words, the hateful spark gone, or appearing so.
"No," she stated. "Because I had changed, so did the world. I had new eyes for everything, making everything new," she watched suspiciously as he moved to the open window, its curtains only trembling slightly from the light breeze. The window had not been open before, but she decided that detail was unimportant. No, she had best keep her attention on the creature before her, not that she could divert her eyes or thoughts anyway. He gazed distantly without seeming to analyze distance, there being a nonchalance in his eyes that she hoped was mirrored in her own. He then turned back to her, shrugged. "But that wasn't enough, was it? You were not content."
Her glare touched upon him, narrowed, but then her shoulders slumped. "No," she let out on a quiet hiss of air, "I wasn't content." But, her mind whispered, you weren't content before. So it has nothing to do with him. *Why do you keep saying that?* "But that couldn't be helped," she added. "It has always been that way."
His eyes focused on her quietly, there being a lack of comprehension edging them like a thin silver thread. "And you chose this over . . . your dreams?" the disgust in his voice struck her, she reeled on her feet without moving. But the set of his mouth, there was an emotion laced on his mouth that was something like pity, but not.
"It was never a choice between my boring life and my dreams. It was Toby or Toby. You could never understand that."
"No," he growled suddenly, a flurry of breaking storms in his eyes, "It was you who never understood." He calmed in the same instant, his next words a drained whisper. "You still don't."
"Enough with the reunion," she snapped, his very presence pushing her to an edge she had never experienced before. She imagined that if she looked down she would fall forever. What a temptation, she thought wryly. "You never told me how the rules have changed."
His mouth twitched with laughter, and at that instant she felt frustration shoving its way through her veins. She could see herself walking up to him, the indignant surprise in his eyes as she wiped that look from his severely beautiful face. "Why so impatient," he questioned lightly, his voice addressing her as if he thought only of her as some form of entertainment. "Are you so eager to leave your world behind?"
"The sooner I get started, the sooner I can be done with it," she said.
One of his strangely arched eyebrows rose, he gazed at her incredulously. "You were very much aware of what you said, Sarah, but do you really know what you said?"
Her arms dropped to her side as she moved stiffly to her vanity. She was tired and she was tense, the reflection that greeted her wanted to know why waiting till morning had not been an option. She wanted to say something about things seeming less possible in the daylight, but she caught the haloed form of the King reflected in the dark mirror. And he was watching her attentively, waiting. O my, she thought, was I supposed to answer that? She snickered silently.
"I said, 'I wish the goblins would come and take me away, right now'." She glanced around, a small, almost obscure smile breaking on her lips. "So where are they?"
His eyes seemed to be intensified by the smooth surface of the mirror, his gaze not slipping. "I will have to do," was all he said. Sarah turned from the vanity, leaned back against it rather than trying to combat the pull of his eyes. It wasn't as graceful a turn as she would have hoped for as a result of the added weight of her book bag, but she managed to achieve the usual movements.
"That is what you said," he tugged at one glove, much the same way he had done the first time she had seen him, "But when one wishes themselves away the words are never that simple."
She hadn't expected this, him to ask her why. In fact, she had forbidden herself to actually consider what would be said between them if ever they met again. And now she was understanding his questions, she was seeing exactly what he had heard when she had said those words. It was getting harder to keep her breathing to a pre-set rhythm.
"Not you," she whispered, her eyes studying something relatively close to the floor. Her gaze then raised as well as her voice. "I didn't wish for you," she said stoically. "I didn't"
He remained unchanged, his arms crossing lightly over his breast. "Do you know---I hear whenever my name is uttered, even Aboveground, even if only in a stray thought . . ."
At that her chin rose in a measure of pure defiance, there being a triumphant sparkle to her voice. "If that is so then you also know that, in all four of the years since I *defeated* you, I have never once said---or even thought your name."
"And that is supposed to mean what to me?" he answered her smug tone. "That you have forgotten me, that you were never affected by me?" He paced nearer to her, his expression unreadable, but she imagined she saw something threatening swimming beneath the ice in his eyes. "True," he went on, "You never called to me, your voice never crossed over, not even in sleep, but that silence spoke much louder of your thoughts. I listened to that silence and I knew . . ."
"You knew what?" she breathed, all traces of triumph fleeing, but she still stood her ground. She had not come this far to back down now. In that same instant she erected a wall in her eyes against him, tried to convince herself that remaining behind that wall was, in no ways, 'hiding'.
He paused, amusement flashing in his eyes before they returned to their 'normal' glitter. He motioned at her book bag, her eyes following the graceful movement of his hand suspiciously. "I suppose you are ready to go now."
It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway, anything to force aside her wary apprehensions of the quickly approaching task. And then she ceased, her glare flying back up to him. "You will tell me the rules," she hissed, not appreciating the fact that he kept dodging (successfully) the subject. "Right Now!"
His eyebrows raised only slightly, but he seemed to be mocking her rather than truly harbouring any surprise. She stood quietly, the threat in her form apparent. "Simple," he said. "I grant your wish." He smirked, just a small twist of his mouth.
"My wish?"
"You asked to be taken away, so I will take you away."
"Take me where?" she questioned, knowing already that she would dread the answer simply by the expression on his face.
"Where else, but to my castle," he replied nonchalantly, once again moving to the window. Behind him Sarah's mouth fell open, her air of demand diminishing some. He seemed oblivious to the affect his words had aroused. She swallowed, forced control back into her movements. She stared down, her dark eyes brimming with thoughtfulness. "This is what he's offering me. So," she whispered to herself then lifted her chin to address him coldly, with a newly found strength. "What is my other choice?"
He glanced back at her, eyes drained of all light, the dark cloak shifting about him quietly. "Sarah," he sighed. "Don't fight me. This time you can't possibly win."
"If I remember correctly you practically said the same thing when I ran your Labyrinth. I defeated you then, I can do it now."
"This 'game' is different, Sarah, and I won't be there to protect you---"
"Protect me?!" she laughed, it being one of those odd sounds that bordered on exhaustion and madness. "I suppose you were also protecting me when you sent the cleaners after me!?"
He grinned then, his head tilting to the side and his pale hair catching a stray shaft of moonlight. "Fear tactic, my dear. You should have shown me more respect, a King does not like to be defied."
Her laughter had faded away, leaving only the strangely calm look on her face. "So, what do I have to do?"
"I mean it, Sarah," his voice sharpened like a razor, its seriousness running along her skin. She almost believed it, almost believed that his voice alone could wound her if he wished. "The stakes are higher and if you do manage to win . . . winning may not be worth what you will lose along the way. Accept my offer. Even if it doesn't bring you happiness, at least you won't have to suffer this mind-numbing boredom anymore," he glanced around him as if he held contempt for the very floor beneath his boots. She absorbed his words, shook her head.
"Bravo," her hands rose, clasped before her. "I almost believed your concern. Let's not waste anymore of my time, hmm---"
"Don't do this," his words came like a soft whisper before a hurricane, "In this game the difference between winning and losing isn't always clear!"
"Stop it!" she growled fiercely, not liking how his tone inspired in her a willingness to heed his warnings, to forget her reasons for calling him. That's exactly what he wants. He knows I can defeat him again.
"I have made up my mind," she added quietly.
"So be it." He was silent a moment, then, "We are here."
Sarah's eyes swept over her room, momentarily meeting with those of her reflection. 'What have you done?!" her mirror-self seemed to demand, but she held her breath. 'It had to be done,' she wanted to shout back. It didn't even have to pass her lips for her to know it was a lie. Her hands clenched once at her sides before she forced herself to relax, the irony not slipping past her. Her gaze focused once more on the creature that seemed misplaced amongst the treasures of her room, and somehow apart of them. The undistinguishable shadows appeared to bow to him. She felt a need to be enraged by such things, but didn't feel much more than that. She held her breath, forced it out. Didn't want him to think it was because of him. 'You breathed before, so it has nothing to do with him'. Shut up!
"We are where?"
His eyes fell lightly upon her, heavy still beyond the strange light that bounced off them. His gloved hand sliced through the air, waved her closer. She thought she saw him smile before he directed his attention back to her window and that unfathomable distance. The cut of his features denied such glimpses, which made them all the more real to her. After a moment of indecision she moved to his side, thought of how odd they must look standing together, framed by the softly moving curtains. Worlds collide, she mused silently, again.
"What do you see?" he whispered quietly, knowing full well that her eyes had never left him.
A double-edged knife---
Her glare at once fired and cooled as she turned to her window. She grasped the wooden frame, careful to not allow the movement to display what it was. Something was settling over her, and its movement unsettled her, like an invisible shroud had been dropped over her eyes. She blinked but nothing changed, the Labyrinth sprawled out before her. Light traced over the outer-walls, causing them to emerge with a gilded illumination.
Her breath tangled in her throat, she couldn't help it, it took all her strength to keep her eyes from growing to take in all of the world that unfolded before her like some enchanted flower. And the geometrically impossible fortress rising at it's heart, pulling the eyes to it and keeping them there until it almost appeared as if the structure breathed or beckoned. She tore her gaze away, ignoring the sting of unwillingness that shot through her.
"You told me," she whispered, each word climbing into a new level of heat and emotion, "That this was a new and different game! If that is so then why are we here again?!" She couldn't explain this anger she felt, it wasn't that she hated this place, or that she had never wanted to see it again. Truth be told she often wondered what she could and would do if there was no clock constantly looking over her shoulder and she were allowed to run unbidden through the glistening and deformed veins of that great maze. But something was different, and she could feel it humming in the air around her.
"Has . . . the Labyrinth changed somehow?" she asked hesitantly, her emotion dropping to a weaker form. Her eyes lighted on the King, denied the existence of an affected soul rooted in her.
He turned from the window, leaned back against the frame and gazed at her beneath seemingly heavy lashes. "Do you see my castle?" he asked, there being almost nothing in his voice, yet the sound still reaching and wrapping around her, momentarily hushing the unusual hum in the air.
Her eyes narrowed, but not with any form of contempt. "Of course," she waved in the direction of his castle, "It's where I left it." She paused, re-traced her words. "Is that it?" she glanced back out the window, seeming to ask the world before her. "Has the castle changed?"
He laughed softly, to her annoyance. "I find it a comfort that I exist in this world for you."
"Exist? In this world for me? But the Underground is *your* world, isn't it?" What if it's true, she thought frantically, what if this place exists only in my mind, and all my greatest memories and friends exist only there? "Ohh," she moaned, her eyes falling shut. Her fingers rose, knotted into the curtains tightly, turning a violent shade of white.
"The Underground is mine," he replied, his eyes donning a sudden look that she couldn't interpret. "But for the time being all this," he made no motion so she could only guess at what he was referring to, "belongs to you---"
"Me?" it was all she could manage to push out before her confusion over-took her. "But . . . but . . ."
"The Underground forces you to change to accommodate it, if you hadn't changed you would still be there now. But here . . . everything has changed for you, will change for you." With a slight motion he forced her to be silent before she even realized her lips had parted. "That is the trap," he finished.
"Okay," she breathed, "why do I get the impression we're not in Kansas anymore---"
"Kansas?"
"Never mind," she smiled slightly, despite the lack of clarity in her eyes, "Just an expression. So, if this isn't the Underground then where are we exactly?" And why does it look like the Underground?
"Do you know what I see out there?" he asked, his eyes and nothing more turning back to the window. Her head was moving from side to side before she realized she was answering him, she froze. His gaze fell on her, its heaviness surprising her. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all."
"Nothing!?" she gasped, "But it's *your* Labyrinth!"
He smirked, his eyes closing. "Yes, it is. But for now the Middleground is your world, it bows to your sight alone."
At that she stilled, the only thought breaking into her consciousness being a weak, silent question of why she hadn't noticed when the moonlight became gold, why she had already accepted and gotten over the fact before she had even realized it. "Middleground?" And then she laughed, continued to laugh until tears threatened to stain her flushed cheeks. "O my," she struggled to catch her breath, failed as her words came out strangled and tight. "How unique, how . . ." She felt tears rising again, and they weren't of laughter anymore. How the hell?
With a feeling that crawled along her spine she forced her tears back, choked them down until she felt they would fill her throat and silently drown her. Anything, she thought, I'll take anything over letting him see me cry! I'll swallow an ocean first!
The motions, her mind was working through the motions of how she was supposed to be feeling, all the words and hateful wishes came to her, but it was as if she were reciting lines for some play---no, there would be more feeling. Her voice in her own head was furious, but she felt no fury or hate. Just a comfortable numbness; she was comfortable with him because he was familiar to her. She was almost mentally clinging to his presence---because suddenly the Labyrinth before her . . . wasn't.
She could see it now, exactly the same, but clearly not. It was the hum in the air, it being less of a noise and more of a vibration. One moment it was just a breath, too easily forgotten, the next it was a driving pulse at the back of her throat. And it made all the difference.
"What is *that*?" she whispered, her occupied gaze seemingly being sucked into its pattern.
"That is," he seemed to sigh, "the current that connects all three realms. We are, in fact, standing where our worlds meet."
Our, she wondered, that one word having an impact on her when she knew it shouldn't. She just couldn't imagine the Goblin King ever having to say 'our'. The fact that he *had* said it seemed less real to her than the sight so quietly reflected in her dark eyes. And then they widened. "I know this place," she gasped, "The Ball! You brought me here!" Anger, there should be anger peeking through those words, but she felt no anger. He laughed, it being such a soft sound that she almost couldn't bear it.
"I can understand why you have made that connection. But no, I didn't bring you here. The Ball was only one of many dreams that pass from this realm and into ours." She stared out over this Middleground as he spoke, tried to pick his words apart in hopes of finding that o so comfortable mocking glimmer, there was none. His words just *were*. "I simply caught it for you, Sarah. I brought you a small piece of the Middleground and an entire world formed at your will."
"So, what is this, the realm of dreams?"
"It has been called that, but don't assume that dreams are harmless."
No, never that, she thought wryly, albeit sarcastically. "This place," he continued, "is as real as you and I."
He WAS concerned. She could feel his worry moving along her skin like cold, prickling fur. It wasn't such an unpleasant sensation, but she still couldn't help the shudder that passed through her. " . . . as real as you and I," her mouth sculpted around the words without granting life to them. And then she mentally shook herself out. "So, am I aiming for that star to the right, or your castle?"
He shook his head, and her eyes turned to him to take in the movement. "No," he said. "I do not know."
"You . . . don't . . . know," she whispered very low, almost breathed. "If you don't know then how am I supposed to know?!" He shook his head once more, it then falling back against the wall, his eyes closed as if he were vastly bored. Had he been concerned? She was doubtful again.
"The Middleground is yours, I cannot tell you where you should be going. Besides, this is not a quest. There is no screaming baby at that castle, I don't even know what is at that castle," he took a breath, "You are to seek out reality in this realm of dreams. Not what is real to you, but what is actually real. And when you can safely determine the two, then you have 'won'," he said the last bit as if it were an after-thought. "If you get tricked into believing the dream is real, then it will be. And you will never find your way back."
"Never?"
"Never."
"Never say never," she tried to smile. He only looked at her, for some reason she didn't believe he was too amused. With a quiet sigh she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans, forced her eyes away from him. "O Fine." She could read the danger of this place in his eyes, so she stopped reading them. It was hard to be brave when even a magical being, such as a Goblin King, was apprehensive. Perhaps if he had spelled out the very meaning of this game before he had set it in motion she would have re-thought her choice, she had been so impatient. But no, if he had thought for one moment that he could have broken her down with words he would have done it. He didn't want her here, that much she could determine. Would her choice have been different? Honestly? She didn't think so. "I don't suppose I have thirteen hours?"
He straightened without so much as acknowledging her presence. He glanced beyond her a moment then stalked closer, raised a hand. She did not flinch, remained as she was and stared up at him as that hand picked up a lock of her hair. He stared at it. "Thirteen hours, thirteen years. Time does not flow here. Time is irrelevant," he said, his face cleverly blank. But his eyes . . .when they finally turned to her she shuddered.
"Don't look at me like that!" she cried aloud, her eyes squeezing down tight as she shoved away from him. He gave no more than a couple inches, but she fell back against the wall, one of the curtains pinned behind her book bag. There hadn't been anything spectacular in his gaze, just words. And they were all whisperings of the future, studying her as if he never expected her to get back out of this realm. It was a good bye. Silent good byes were the worst to her because they meant there would always be that edge that would never be sanded down, that would always cut like a serrated knife when approached. Her mother had smiled at her quietly, sadly. Refused Sarah's arms when she had ran up to hug her. Then left. Just left. Sarah had never understood her 'good bye' until years later, until the only thing that ever came with the memory of her mother was pain. That same look was reflected in his eyes, she didn't want to see it.
"Why do you act as if you will miss me? You hate me," she whispered so low, as if she wished the words would get carried away on the breeze and never reach his ears. For long moments he stood quietly where she had pushed him, and she thought that perhaps he hadn't heard her. But his cloak shifted once causing a soft rustle along the floor. He stepped closer, forcing her to look back up to him.
"Sarah, this is not the time or place for hatred," he spoke quietly. "I only want to look at you and remember the girl that defied me, that stood up to me. The one who not only defeated the Labyrinth, but forced it, and its creatures, to love her. If you get caught up in this world you have fashioned . . . I at least want to remember you as you are now."
Forced the Labyrinth to love her? Had she done that? Yes, she looked up at him and knew the answer. Yes. "Thank you," she whispered as one of his eyebrows raised. "Thank you, for wanting to remember me." It had, perhaps, been the truest sentence that had left her mouth. She knew if she lost, if she got caught in this world of dreams---her father, Karen . . . even Toby would forget her. The Sarah of earth would be no more. Her own mother had already forgotten her, and that was a hell in its own right. But the Labyrinth wouldn't forget her. *He* wouldn't forget her. It was a comfort. Nobody wanted to be forgotten completely.
I'm ready to do this, she thought. I'm ready to face this.
"I don't have much of a choice," he smiled, it being warm and a touch teasing. She studied him, prayed that it wasn't simple pity that made him soften his words out. It wasn't, but she couldn't tell what it was. Almost a fondness, like one would have for a pet, but it wasn't that either. She suddenly realized how close he was, that he had moved closer. Her eyes widened as the dark leather of his glove slid against her chin, he was tipping her head back.
"What . . .are you doing?" she breathed, the sound barely passing her lips. But his smile widened, she felt the soft touch of his cape as it fluttered across her arm.
"You owe me," he said, his gloved hand tracing a line from her jaw down to her shoulder. He didn't lean into her, left that misleading space between them, and laid his mouth lightly against hers. They stared at each other a moment, both of them taking a deep breath, both seemingly listening to the other's eyes. And then his lashes fluttered closed and the subtle brush of his lips moved, almost like the soft trace of a feather. He stepped back, let his hand drop from her shoulder and simply regarded her. "If you hadn't run away from me . . . that's how the dream would have ended."
And I would have given Toby up . . . for a kiss.
Part of her failed to grasp how the life of one child out-weighed all her dreams, especially when it was their weight that was crushing her. But she forced herself to blink, forced herself to breathe. She stared at the creature before her, expecting to finally see triumph, but his face was unreadable. More frightening than an intricately carved mask."You should go," he said, his voice almost dead to her ears. She hesitated a long moment then nodded. Adjusting the strap of her book bag once more, she stepped around him, dazed and only mildly relieved that he did not say exactly what that kiss was.
Good bye.