Chapter 3: Magic Dance

Sarah had the invitation tucked neatly in the secret pocket of her worn cape that served as her coat. The cape itself was green, and no one wanted to spend the money to buy a newer one, though Jay grumbled when she and Scar left about the poor quality in which they were sending her to see the king. It was worn and smelled of salt and the sea and dirt, but after each hand on board took a turn scrubbing the thing, the smells faded into a musk that reminded Sarah of Aboveground dish soap. Now, dressed in her new birthday gown, with her hair curled and down, with the owl pendant hanging just below the collar of her dress Sarah was prepared for the Ball.

Jay had driven the carriage to the castle for them. Once there Scar managed to perk up an expression that wasn't threatening.

"I'm not dancing anything too fast." He said as they walked up the marble steps that led to the huge oak doors.

"You don't even need to dance if you don't want to." Sarah said.

"Oh," Scar almost seemed down by this comment. "But I am your escort."

"So of course I'm going to demand more then just a waltz," Sarah adopted her ordinary tease tone she took with Scar, trying to lighten the tension that weighed them down in the air. "And I don't want any complaints from you Lanzer."

Scar gave her a lopsided grin. "None my lady."

They walked through the open doors, only to find the grand Hall was empty of Ball-goers. Instead there was what appeared to be a row of guards who were stationed pointing to the door that led to the Royal Gardens. Following without question Sarah let Scar lead her outside into a large vineyard and maze of gardens and statues, gazebos and as suspected, masked guests.

They donned their masks and Sarah revealed her invitation for a stationed guard who directed them to the center of the maze where a large circular glass gazebo laid station to the ball. Sarah was enchanted by what she saw, no detail was left untouched by the wonder of the Fae, everything glittered, and everything was beautiful, imperfect in such a way to make it perfect in nature. At the edge of the grand expanse sat three thrones, only one of which was filled, the other two held only abandoned royal crowns in their seats.

Sarah knew at first glance that it was the High King that sat in the throne, but she did not want to meet him. From far away she sensed a dangerous ripple of unguarded, indestructible power. He was handsome, an unpolished cold gem, brimming with eternal strength. But she did not like him, he was too cold of a stone, even the guests seemed to stiffen when he was near, and grow rigid with practiced poise to keep from drawing the attention of the High King. Fear was his power's wine, Sarah realized with a guilty sigh that Jareth could not be wholly blamed for his actions having grown up with a father like that.

They avoided conversation, swayed near dark corners and watched from the sidelines enjoying the simple destructive peace of the party. But very soon Scar and Sarah could not avoid the crowds anymore, an assembly line of people had begun to form to pass the thrones and pay respect to the King. Sarah had not been in the line long when she saw that the two thrones that had previously been empty had been filled, each by a masked man. The taller one refused to wear his crown; he was hooded, clothed in leather, masked in a familiar black mask. Her heart stopped and then began to dance, thudding inside her in an endless harangue of happiness. She was almost too excited, but she then noticed who sat in the other throne; a young woman, very beautiful, very elegant. Sarah watched with a slightly heavy heart as they approached, and she saw the woman was not of any relation to the King and his son. She could not have been Jareth's mother, she was too young of a Fae.

Scar noticed a distress in Sarah's expression, but did not have a chance to question her because they had reached the High King. He bowed, Sarah gave a graceful curtsy and he greeted the king kindly.

"Your Majesty it is an honor to be in your presence." He said.

Sarah did not speak for a moment, then she shocked Scar senseless when her words were distant, icy and almost…like the whisper of death. "Yes, thank you for the invitation, sire, you have a lovely home here in the High Lands."

It was unlike her. All her grandeur, her elegance was gone, and Scar couldn't name why. She had curled up into a very cold creature that was bent by propriety not to be a silent ghost.

The King did not sense this strangeness, or if he had he made not comment. But Scar noticed that the shadowed eyes of the masked Goblin King were flaring with a strange concern, never leaving Sarah.

"Thank my Lady," The King spoke with all the cold dignity a monarch was expected to have. "I thought it quite of the right order to invite such a magical mortal here on this occasion. One with a history with one close to me." He turned to Jareth. "You bested my son. Developed powers of your own. I must make you a friend of the family, it is my obligation as King."

Sarah wasn't making much sense of his words, her eyes stared vacantly from one object to the next, thought directly avoiding looking at the king's son, though she could feel his gaze as if he was watching her naked. "Of course, but I had been a little surprised by the invitation."

"To be sure, it is uncommon for a mortal, and a pirate at that to be invited to such a noble gathering." It was not the king that had spoken, but rather the woman in the throne. "One that is noted for being a destructive child."

All eyes save a pair of miss-matched ones, turned to her, though she did not cringe beneath the weight of the gaze. She straightened, smoothed her long gold hair down, adjusted her white mask, corrected a wrinkle in her gossamer gown, and waited to be confronted for the slight insult.

"And who," Scar said firmly. "Are you my Lady? Surely one of your ranks must not converse with kinds like Sarah very often. Had you been privy to her, and her personality before swallowing the gossip from silver-tongues you would know that Lady Sarah is but the embodiment of goodness."

The King spoke, a sense of urgency in the air making all words spark. "May I introduce Blanche of the Silver Folk, fiancée to my son Jareth."

The cloaked man did not move, Scar's hold on Sarah's arm went from a common escorts arm wrap to a much firmer, protective hold. She did not move.

Then he did something that terrified both Scar and Jareth. She smiled.

Jareth had to abide by the rules of the curse and Tiran had cursed him twice over by inviting Sarah. Blanche had not wanted to invite her, for obvious reasons, but after a few threats from Tiran she was silenced. The woman was a bitch. Jareth hated her with all the fury in his heart.

Tiran had chosen her for the Queen, Jareth's wife, the mother of the next heirs. Though he may wish to oppose, to refuse to do what was commanded of him, Jareth had to obey his father. So he courted the woman, two years ago and since then they had had a long separated engagement. She had lived in the castle at High Lands, never daring to step foot in the castle beyond the Goblin City where horror hid in every corner for her, every goblin ready to glue her hair to her pillows or shear her corsets to shreds.

When Jareth had seen Sarah as he sat down in his throne, he had grown very warm all over, his body reacting all too happily at the sight of his girl. But she had approached and very instantly understood what had not been spoken. She knew what the place of the woman sitting by his father. He felt the warmth leak away, replaced by a balmy cold.

Then she smiled and Jareth felt his world shatter inside. She smiled like she did not even care. He wasn't sure if this should make him happy; she'd finally gotten over him and nothing was stopping her from living to her content, or make him sad; he'd lost his Sarah. He then decided that this made him neither happy or sad, but angry. She was his. She would not give up just because a fool of a Fae woman got in the way.

Sarah spoke. "Congratulations, Majesty." Her voice was the picture of warmth and civility. "When is the wedding?"

"Oh, in a month, we will be sure to invite you." Tiran said. For the first time Jareth's eyes turned to his father sharply. But he could not speak, the King eyed him back with commanding whispers. "Silence."

"It looks as if the dances have begun. " Blanche said coolly. She stood and looked to Jareth, as if expecting him to join her. He made no move to, so the King stepped in.

"Shall we dance?" He asked.

She nodded and let him lead her out to the largest dance floor. The entire gardens were full of dance floors, though the enchanting music could be heard in even the most secluded of secret gazebos.

Jareth was silent as the grave. Scar did not speak, he bore the weight of a weakening Sarah on his arm. She smiled again to the only remaining monarch, though it was a very forced expression.

"Do excuse us your highness," She said. "I do think I should like to find some place to dance." The last part was a secret demand to Scar. He knew what she really meant; get me the hell away from him!

He gave a curt bow to Jareth, who titled his head in return and then dictated Sarah's path quickly from him.

He took her down a few flights of mossy stone steps, through a few tunnels of maze and then into a lonely gazebo where only a few stray doves gathered in the rafters. There was a stone bench, and he helped her settle there. Kneeling before her he rubbed her leg affectionately, trying without success to discern the expressionless look on her face.

After a few silent minutes, where his fear began to climax to panic, small tears began to dribble from her green eyes.

"Sarah!" Scar gathered her up in his arms and let her cry quietly.

"I just feel so foolish for loving him," She said between sobs.

"No," Scar soothed. "You are not, you love each other, and nothing can destroy that."

"You sap," She smiled and laughed a little, but her face still reflected her inward plight. "But you're wrong, what about his wife?"

"She's only his fiancée, and as far as I can tell, it was an arranged marriage. Besides," He wiped a few stray curls out of her eyes. "The Fae can only love once."

"I thought that was myth?" Sarah frowned.

"No, take it from someone who knows," Scar's face reflected a glimmer of sadness for a moment but the shine was quickly extinguished. "I am not Fae, but I loved one once. She died loving me, and I have not had it in me to betray her curse of eternal love, even in death for me."

"She would have wanted you to be happy," Sarah said, doing what he had done for her. "Even if that meant loving another."

Scar smiled a little, then jumped. A strange presence had arrived. But no one could be seen, the shadows played a deadly game of hiding. Sarah knew the presence though, her blood rose to her cheeks and her face tingled.

"It's Jareth." She said softly.

"Should I tell him to… 'hit the road'?" Scar said.

At any other time Sarah might have burst out laughing at Scar's attempt to talk like a mortal, but at that moment, she shook her head.

"Could you…" She sighed sadly.

"Yes," He understood. Her leaned in to his her forehead gently, though her mask was slightly in the way. "I'll leave, but I will not be far away should you need me."

She nodded and Scar walked out the way they came. For a brief moment she wanted to call him back, her fear overwhelmed her, but then the music changed. She knew the song better then any other song in the world, from the whispering voices of the silken violins to the chime of gentle bells, the piano, the beat, so tender like the beating of an humming bird's heart, though much slower, more romantic. She raised her eyes, all the tears dried and only the ache of their birth still rolling in her eyes. She saw him then, in the shadows, his form less then regal, and more the awkward bent form of a nervous man.

"May I have this dance?" His voice made her cry for joy inside. She may have run straight to him had she not been so afraid.

"Yes." She answered.

A darkness fell over the gazebo, almost too heavy to see through, but a few round crystals appeared in the center of the circular ceiling, and the closed area was alight with a moon-like glow.

Only when it seemed that all means of escape were closed off did Jareth approach her from the dark. He was as he had been for three years, masked, too far to touch, too dark to see. She wanted to take off the mask, but an itching feeling on her wrists told her magic was involved in this strange ploy. She had always gotten that feeling in that certain place when the magic was bad.

But she ignored it now, there were more important things left to do, to say.

"Jareth…" He had reached her, but he put a gloved finger over her lips, silencing her. Wordless and without hesitation he drew her close to him, so her entire body was against his. He wound a strong unbreakable arm around her waist, his other arm around her neck. For a moment it seemed they were not going to dance, then he drew his fingers from her neck down her arm the took up her hand. She let her spare hand res on his shoulder and they began to sway and spin across their little dance floor.

"Sarah." He whispered in her ear. "I love you." His voice was not his own, it was muffled and mutated as it always was, but Sarah didn't care.

"I love you too." She said.

His body quivered, he didn't seem like he could help it. He spun her around so her back was against him. The music had changed slightly, darkened, grown faster. His hand dipped low, to her ankle, their bodies bent together easily, and he ran that hand up her leg, pulling her skirt up along with his fingers. The caress was gentle, but Sarah shook with delight. They danced and moved as one form, like they were meant to be that way.

She turned around, then moved him across the floor to a stone wall, she pushed him up against it. She ran her hands over the leather that covered his form. She didn't like it there, she wanted to feel his skin, but she took what she had and loved it. He sighed, and melted in the happiness of her hands running over his chest, his ribs, and stomach. But the girl moved to touch the mask, and he reacted rashly.

He gripped her wrist. "Sarah, you cannot remove the mask. You can't see me."

Sarah was uncaring of what prevented this, she simply tore off a piece of stray material from her dress and tied it over her eyes. He gasped slightly then chuckled then drew her hands up to his face letting her remove the mask and drop it to the floor.

Her fingers were soft, tentative. They moved over his skin like the gentle tickle of butterfly wings, but they left fire trails in their wake, his skin flamed at her touch. She grazed his eyelids, drew her finger down the thin trail of his nose, but stopped with slightly shaking hands when she reached his lips. To encourage her in her shyness he moved to kiss her finger tips. Then she smiled, and ran her fingers over his mouth, encircling it, caressing them. It was making him very warm.

He knew she could not see, so he removed her fingers and held them fast in his hands then dove forward to kiss her lips quick and gentle.

She gasped; he drew away and watched for her reaction. She was still for a moment then crashed into him and kissed him, long and sweet. Their mouths opened for each other, their tongues met for the first time, though it felt to them they had known the other's mouth for much longer. He let his hands wander free over her body, touching her, feeling her thundering heart. Even when his hand grazed her breast, she did not protest; only tease him a little by pulling a little out of his reach. It was a perfect kiss, every moment was perfect and beautiful and nothing else mattered.

He had his Sarah in his arms. She would never leave them again.

A loud scream suddenly made Sarah jump. She tried to tear the blindfold from over her eyes, but Jareth stopped her because of the curse. She tried to fight him off, so he just dropped her arms and dove for his mask.

Sarah's eyes opened, but Jareth was on the ground, holding the mask to his face. Sarah was more then annoyed. The scream had been nothing more then the high chortle of a passing drunk pixie. But this fact was no the source of her great agitation; it was Jareth's frantic need to keep his face from her sight.

"Damn you Jareth." She spat angrily. She tried to storm away, but all walls had turned to stone around her and it felt as if they were slowly closing in. She had no magic, not even a trinket that could help her escape. She spun around, her hair a flaring curtain of darkness around her pale skin. "Let me out." She demanded.

"Precious, you must listen…" He tried to stand, but was a little tangled in his hood and cape. He managed to stand up then outstretched his arms for her.

"What must I listen to?" She said. "I came here as invited, I don't even know why in the Hell the High King would invite a pirate! And I see you…with her." She let those stupid tears spill out of her eyes, gushing rivers that reddened her face and embarrassed her beyond repair. "If you loved me at all you wouldn't have…"

"What?" He yelled quietly. "I wouldn't have followed you? Kept you safe when I was able, tried with all my might to find ways to see you even with this bloody spell over me!" He suddenly grew silent and fell down to his knees. "I don't want to marry Blanche, but the spell makes it impossible to be with you."

"Spell," She sighed and kneeled before him. "What spell?"

He looked up at her, and had she been able to see his expression she would have read deep angered sorrow. "My father is a hateful sinner. He was angry at what had happened to me when…"

"When I left you." It was not a question.

He nodded and continued. "I did something incredibly dangerous, and for that many are suffering. He was angry with me, more then that and… he already has a strong disliking for mortals. He loved a mortal, but she died very young, my mother, just after my birth. They had only been married a year, and she died. Since she died he's hated the mortal world and did all he could to isolate Underground from them. But… I met you. Loved you like he loved Elmina, my mother. When he saw how those emotions had destroyed me he cursed me to try and keep me away from you. The spell went: I cannot speak to you with my own voice, touch you with my hands, or let you look upon me."

There seemed to be something more that needed to be explained of the curse, Sarah was missing the conclusion. There was always some master punishment if such things were broken.

"What happens then, if I see you or you speak or touch me?" She said.

Jareth did not speak but looked up to her, his eyes shiny and sad. When he did speak his voice was empty and frightened. "You will die."

"Jareth." Sarah's voice had erupted from her mouth without her being able to contain the need to say his name. It was the name she had always called for when she was secretly afraid, and right now she was honestly afraid. And angry of course, but that emotion could wait until she had a chance to let out the emotions. Now she was sad and scared. She leaned forward and laid her head on his chest. "We don't need to be apart, we could just work with the curse…that is if you have forgiven me?"

He took her face up in his hands, watched her. There was a growing shadow nearby, but both ignored its crawling movements, neither had eyes for anything other then each other.

"Sarah," He said his voice thick with emotion. "I forgave you from the moment you refused me. I only needed time to try and solve my twisted ways. I wanted your fear, when really all I needed to survive was your love. Never blame yourself for anything bad I've done. No matter what anyone says, I love you and you are not to blame for anything."

He picked up the blindfold and tied it over her eyes once more. He removed the mask and kissed her, quickly and fiercely, knowing their time was starting to come to an end. He left her soon after, still blindfolded. Once he was far enough away he removed the stone walls and she was free to move about the gazebo once again.

He smiled as he left to return to the main gazebo. Before he'd left her, he noticed the chain around her neck had fallen loose, and hanging on the end was the little owl pendant he'd secretly put in the wax of her invitation. He'd dropped a small crystal in front of her blinded form as he vanished, left it knowing she would contact him, whisper to him in the night. Hope followed him through the evening, he saw Sarah occasionally, smiling with her good friend Scar, dancing with many monarchs. Delighting herself in the treats of Fae food. All was well, save a bit of jealousy on his part every time Scar made her smile, or another monarch, married or otherwise was drawn in by her beauty and bright personality and asked for her hand to dance. He thought it safe to steal one public dance, but it was all modesty and he hardly earned a few laughs from Sarah. But he could see the subtle warmth in her eyes, the deepening of the already shimmering green. Behind the propriety and calm disposition she was displaying, he could sense her secret affection, her hushed love.

Soon though she had to go, as all the guests began to dwindle and few. He stood at the gates with his father and Blanche, saying farewell to each guest. But when he held her hand to kiss her hand, they shared a fiery look, one that no one else could see or understand. It was sweet and loving, a look that said: I'll dream with you later. Sarah could feel her insides sink ever lower into the flames, searing in the heat, so painful she could cry, but it was a sweet pain. Once Scar had directed her outside and far enough from the Castle to pause for a moment she sat down and began to laugh, quietly, happily Scar smiled and laughed a little as well, each savored the sound of pure childish pleasure. They had no way of knowing it wouldn't last long.