I know destiny and I know fate… you humans are lucky, you watch the world grow and change whereas I know what it will one day be and have no pleasure in the surprise –Venire
Jareth was sleeping beside Sarah in his owl form. He had transported himself there upon waking from the glorious dream of the future and was cuddled up close to Sarah's beating heart. She was a heavy sleeper by nature and did not wake for many hours, nor stirred when he dared scratch gently at her cheek with his little talons. When at long last the sun had crawled up high into the sky and settled in mid-morning cradle did Sarah stir. This was late for her standards. Jareth could tell from her waking that something was wrong. She sat up slowly, blinking her eyes rapidly, rubbing her scar on her skull.
She did not even pay him mind as she tugged her blankets from her bed and wrapped them around her body to walk out of her bedroom. She was not, as she walked, even trying to conceal the fact that she was scratching the scar on her head with a vicious nail, unceasing even as a bit of blood tricked from the reopened scar. Jareth had the courage to follow her, hopping on his little bird feet, watching as she vanished behind the door of the bathroom. She was there for a long time. Long enough for her father to come, fully dressed for work, holding a snoozing Toby against his chest and warn her of his leaving. Long enough still for Karen to come knocking to warn her of her leaving as well to the mall to meet with some of Robert's business associates wives. To this came no answer but a grunt and Karen left, the hint of worry on her face enough to send owl-Jareth into a slight frenzy. As she vanished from the home he changed, inconsequentially, and nearly knocked the door open to find it was unlocked. He found Sarah leaning her head against the bathtub, looking to be soaked in her own sweat, the toilet not far from her full of her stomach acid, the only liquid she had to vomit up.
"Sarah," He kneeled alarmed at her side. But she made an angry face and pushed his hands away from her, her pale face turning a little rosy, only to drop back to a chalky pallor as she collapsed on the floor. This time when he reached for her she did not protest but instead croaked and vomited a mess of blood and bile. Jareth lifted her in his arms and carried her to her room where he stepped through the mirror without hesitation and transported them to his chambers. Once there he laid her on his bed and went to fetch a basin. Casting a quick spell so any contents felled into the basin would immediately vanish he set it near the edge of the bed. Then he proceeded to undress Sarah from her t-shirt and pants into a loose back nightshirt of his own that hung quite far on her body. He conjured bland bread and equally bland peach juice for her to sip. She picked her food vacantly and without vigor, he was almost provoked into spoon-feeding her against her moans and protests. Quite soon after he'd gotten her to eat bread she turned over in the bed and threw up the contents of food into the basin. It continued this way for nearly three hours until finally she slept in peace.
Jareth had slept too, without dreams of lovely cherub children or his precious swimming in the pools of his eyes. He had woken to midnight in Underground, Sarah asleep still looking smaller and paler then she had previously. Her body sparkled in the moonlight with the sheen of her sweat and the nightshirt he had given her had fallen loose off her shoulder, the collar so large, and she shivered with fever as the wind from the open French doors blew over the room. He moved first to close the doors and the heavy scent of her body settled in the windless air. It filled his head for a moment and his thoughts were unclear as he took weakening steps across the room to where she lay. He kneeled down beside her, just as her eyes began to open her weary eyes.
"Daddy?" She asked softly as she felt smooth hands brush the sweat-slick hair from her face.
"No, precious," He whispered. "It's Jareth."
"Oh, hello sir," She mumbled and tried to maneuver her weak body to look around the room. "Did you pull a good-housekeeping makeover to my room? Because quite frankly I liked my room the way it was before." She gave him a smile.
"Oh," He sighed, only half understanding the joke. "No, you're in Underground."
She frowned. Blinked and frowned deeper. "Did I wish myself here by mistake?" She said and tried to drag the heavy covers off of her. He only needed to grasp her wrist and gently push her back down and she gave in under the pressure of her weakness.
"You made no wish that I heard, but I found you ill in you're bathroom." He said and patted her cheek with a tenderness her face expressed that she had not suspected.
"So you took me here?" She said, her tone sounding almost peeved.
To his nod and smirk of a pleased grin she pursed her lips. "Well," She declared with as much authority as he himself possessed. "I feel fine now, so I better be getting back Aboveground." She made to sit up again when her face fell flat pale, grey, and she collapsed back into the pillows. "Maybe I don't feel exactly right." She grumbled.
Jareth cocked his head and his smile turned genuine. "Now," His tone mocking her authority. "I expect you shall be here until you are well, so I must make preparations for your visit in Underground." He said and stood. Worry passed over her sullen face.
"You're going to leave me?" She sounded like a child, more like her youthful counterpart he'd watched from afar. Her face still held the beauty of her adolescence, the flare of disobedience and inspiration. It was enough to make him smile quite large, exposing his pointy teeth to her. He had to remind himself she still was a child of sorts, in respects to the age of a Fae when in their prime of life in comparison to human age they were much the same, youths of their worlds. However when comparing their ages just by number, he was many years her senior and far more experienced in life then she was. That, he supposed was where his true infatuation for her lay, in her innocent youth, her humanly need for love in an early age for her years were short. But he reminded himself, she had forever to live. It was beyond him how he granted her immortality, but upon her leaving the Labyrinth she had somehow acquired the gift. When her memory had first been taken he did not know this. But now, with her sickness it became very clear. She was passing through the change from human to Fae. Unsure if he should tell her this or let it pass and feign cluelessness he promised himself to consider the argument. Tomorrow. For now, why not just spend quality time with his ill companion?
"I'm not much cop to leaving you just yet, what would you do if you needed to use the lavatory?" Her blush was faint but still existent.
She asked her next question tentatively. "Would you like to sit here with me?" She managed to wriggle her weak body over, giving him room to sit, even lay next to her. He was quick to join her, slipping his boots off and letting his vest fall to the floor. Dressed comfortably with only a poet's shirt and tight pants made of black leather he moved to join her and did not hesitate in wounding his arm around her shoulders to draw her to his chest. She tensed, but he supposed because of her illness she settled comfortably against his chest, her lips pressed on his collar bone, her eyelashes tickling the skin of his neck. He smiled.
Erat was angry. Death, Morty as she called him, knew he would serve many sexless years, maybe even a century of abstinence for this game.
"You are killing her." Erat fumed. "She is the most important person in the world, and you're killing her!" A book, never been opened before was thrown across the room and it came in contact with Morty's uncloaked head. He smoothed his white as snow hair down. It hung much longer then even his wife's, which was wispy red and hung down her back. He frowned to her, his child-bride.
"No reason to get upset darling, even Fae die." He said calmly. "No need to throw things."
A vase made it's way toward his head and he ducked. The useless piece of art crashed to shards against the wall. Erat made a sound like an animal growl and ducked from her husband's approaching form and scrambled under the bed. Rolling his white as marble eyes he kneeled down and peered under the bed at her. She was glowering from under the tassels of the bed quilt, her legs curled under her, one arm clawing the ground with sharp hard nails. He loved the vicious look in her eyes, but right now she was radiating such a dangerous aura he dared not reach for her. Instead he spoke.
"My love, why are you so angry?" He said.
"Because my love," She snarled. "Even with one of the most important women in the world you cannot break your nature and leave her be! She's changing into her prophesied form and you're treating her like any other changeling."
"She is just a changeling!" He yelled. He straightened and waited for her. Any time he raised his voice near her she would break. Break from her rambunctious child-like self and turn into something far more animal. And she did appear from her hiding place.
Her features sharpened and her ears had uncurled and pointed upward, direct and angry from the tufts of her bristling red as blood hair. She stood, much shorter then him, but her presence made his shoulders hunch and his eyes turn downward. A small pale hand with bedraggled long nails came up to gather his chin and turn it upwards so his iris-deprived eyes could stare into the glowing depths of her amber gold ones. It was here in their home, invisible to even the Fae that Death yielded to the Past, unable to win the battle over her ever growing power. As child-like as Erat could be, it was all a feign, a game to hide the sorrows and destruction of the Past that she had to carry inside her little body. Venire had it the worst, seeing all that would be, Adesse was a fool as always, loving but a great baboon with few virtues that played a role. But Morty knew his beloved, the youngest of the Time People, the strangest and most uncaring of what people thought of her child had the worst job of all of them. She carried every mistake, every war fought, and every memory of death inside her, bundled up in the most secret part of her heart.
He'd seen it sometimes, in her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking. Her smiles would fade and an ageless expression would cross her face, leaving her appearance to be that of a mother aching for a lost child. It pained him then as she crawled out from under the bed to see that look in her eyes.
"Venire said," Erat mumbled and dropped the hold on his chin. "That she could save the world, because she loved so much. Her example would change Underground, they'd move to Above ground and settle their wars…." A hiccup escaped from her and soon her words were woven with the gentle sobs of mourning. "Her love saves them. Please let her live!" She collapsed on the ground and cried against the floor.
Morty stood for a moment above her, feeling that his icy touch might shatter her weak heart. He sank down on his knees beside her and she crawled into his lap, the waves of his billowing clothes opening to let her settle next to his own naked body and close around her.
He wanted to tell her that he would let Sarah Williams live, that the goodness Venire could see would be real. But his dark side was his strong side, and he could not keep himself from trying to kill the mortal during her transformation. His only hope laid in Sarah herself, and Jareth's love to inspire her. The poison of his hand already infected her. At this point it was only a matter of waiting and seeing if she would be able to fight him off and live to bless both world with the infinite love of a savior.