Arroyan lingered in the hallway, watching as Jareth and Sarah exchanged awkward greetings and small talk. Jareth's mind screamed that Arroyan was as good as dead, the moment Sarah left his sight, but he knew it was just theatrics. He'd felt the shift when he and Sarah had returned, her with a duffle bag of clothes and prized possessions, he with the satisfaction of knowing things would not end so badly. The Underground had been starving for the bond of a King and Queen and Sarah had quenched that thirst, right readily. The two of them were awkward now, but soon enough things would lend themselves in the right direction, he was sure of it.
Jareth stared at her blankly for a moment. His heart and his mind seemed to have ground to a halt and he could not think of anything to say to her that could accurately communicate what was going on inside of him. He was overjoyed to see her in a way he'd never been towards anyone before, yet he was wary of her like an animal being taunted with fire. She just stared at him, lips pursed together, as if she were appraising the decision that she'd made.
"I didn't expect you so soon," Jareth conceded blankly. "I was sure you'd give Arroyan as much trouble as you did me." She smiled and shrugged a shoulder.
"Well, when you asked me to stay in the Underground, I was newly 15, terrified, and missing my baby brother. Arroyan explained the situation much better and he's easily manipulated into revealing necessary information, whereas you are much harder to coerce." She leaned against the wall casually and glanced behind her to make sure Arroyan wasn't listening in before look back at Jareth, a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. "By the way…peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Works like a charm." She winked and Jareth cracked a grin and shook his head. "As to coming so soon," Sarah continued, "I just figured that you never made me wait, when I needed your help, so I should probably return the favor." She was trying her best to ignore the feeling that had taken control of her chest the minute she'd laid eyes on him. She'd known it a few times before, and it was recognizable, but highly improbable, given that she'd just arrived. She wasn't an airhead; she didn't rush into things lightly. It was disconcerting how quickly she'd let the history she had with him fall away as she tried to ignore the feeling that the future she'd been so desperately seeking in her other life was looking her dead in the eyes. Urgently, she worked to summon back some of the anger she'd felt six years ago when he'd first refused to give Toby back, but it was having nothing doing. She'd long since forgiven him and made peace with the idea that he had done everything for her. He didn't need the baby, he probably didn't want the baby even, but she'd wanted a night off and he'd given her that. He'd given her all of it. That's why she'd agreed so readily, this time.
They'd both changed in the past six years. In her never ending quest to forget the Labyrinth and the feelings and nuances of herself that he'd ignited, she'd found herself longing to go back, even if it was just for a few moments. There was something about being around him that had always made her feel at home, even when he was sending large, metallic, grinding machines chasing after her or throwing snakes at her throat, moments before they turned into harmless scarves. He brought out the worst in her, but always came back around to coax the best of her to the surface, afterwards. She decided that this inspection of her feelings for Jareth was best done when he wasn't within earshot and turned her attention to what she could tell of him, just from looking.
He was wearing clothes similar to Arroyan's, rather than the glittery, skin tight, oh-so-unflattering ensembles he'd worm on her last trip, but he was dressed all in black – out of respect for the dead, no doubt. His hair, instead of sticking up and flopping over in odd places, at odd angles, had grown out and was tied back in a neat ponytail, also like Arroyan. Come to think of it, he and Arroyan could've been mirror images except for the color of their hair and eyes, and the way Jareth made her chest feel like it was simultaneously imploding and exploding, all the time. She shook herself mentally. He also seemed to be less of the petulant brat she'd encountered on her last visit and more of a gentleman. His emotions, instead of rising to the surface with every moment, lurked somewhere deep inside, where she could not draw them out. It was comforting and distressing, all at once to think that whatever was going on inside his head would stay there, this time. Shaking her head, she diverted her eyes from him as a blush crept up her cheeks.
Jareth's eyes, which had been trained on her the whole time, did not move as he took in the sight of her and felt himself come more alive than he had been in months. Behind Sarah, Arroyan suddenly appeared, entering the room, grinning in that way that meant he knew something and the way he kept glancing at Sarah led him to believe it had to do with her. As soon as possible, Jareth would get it out of him. The King's Advisor bowed to Jareth and then turned to Sarah with a smile.
"Forgive me, Sarah, but His Majesty has an appointment scheduled with his father, which he must leave for, now." He looked back at Jareth, who nodded solemnly and moved to the chair behind his desk, reaching for his suit coat. "But if you'll follow me, I'd be glad to show you to your room. You must be tired after your travels."
Sarah glanced at Jareth and then looked back to Arroyan, as the new feeling started a loud and flamboyant protest against leaving Jareth before she squashed the louder members. Even if she was trying to convince herself that she didn't care, she'd expected to have just a bit more time with him before she was hustled off to…God knew what. So we're headed for a long engagement, she quipped sarcastically to herself. Glancing up at Arroyan, she prepared to open her mouth and offer rebuttal, but his look plainly said that it wasn't open for discussion. He turned and led the way out of the study and she followed quietly, pondering how in Heaven's name she and Jareth were going to develop a relationship if such a stiff was running his schedule. A relationship. With Jareth. The thought sent shivers down her spine.
As she walked along in Arroyan's wake, she heard her name echo out of the study and into the hall, and soon footsteps heralded Jareth's approach, causing her to pause and turn to look at him as he emerged after them. His fingers were fast at work, fastening the buttons of his coat, but his eyes were trained solely on hers.
"If you're not too worn out by whatever my Advisor has in store for you today, perhaps you'd care to join me for dinner, this evening?" Sarah glanced over her shoulder at Arroyan, who'd paused and was regarding them calmly, before looking back to Jareth.
"We talking a big dinner with people I've never met before or just a few people or…what?" Jareth smiled.
"I was thinking just you and I. We've quite a lot to discuss." The butterflies, which had, until now, remained fairly silent about the situation at hand, suddenly rose up in a wave that threatened to rival her lungs and heart for most necessary organs in her abdomen. Maybe he'd felt the same righteous indignation she had at being rushed through quick hellos like a prized dog at show. Maybe he wanted to spend more time with her? She wouldn't get her hopes up. It wasn't likely that he had felt the same wave of excited nausea that she had when he'd turned to look at her for the first time in six years and she'd probably be better off admiring him from a distance than getting too attached and getting burned. She'd go to dinner and see where things stood, then make her decisions.
"Yeah, we do. I'll be there." She smiled nodded and Jareth reciprocated the gesture, before taking a step towards her, his hand reaching for her own. Sarah, unsure of exactly what was coming, followed his lead and watched as he lifted her knuckles to his lips, gently, his eyes ever trained on her own. As he released her hand and took a step backwards, he smiled wider.
"Until tonight, Sarah." With one last look he was gone, walking purposefully down the hall in the direction she and Arroyan had come from, minutes before. She watched him for a few moments before Arroyan cleared his throat and brought her attention back to him. She turned to find him grinning at her impishly. Cocking an eyebrow at him, she made to ask about the look, but before she could get words out, he turned, striding forward and leading her further into the castle. She glanced over her shoulder for one last glimpse of Jareth, but he had vanished from sight completely. Sighing, she turned back around and followed Arroyan silently, to wherever it was he was leading her.
--
Jareth arrived in his father's sitting room in high spirits, but they quickly deflated into hot embers of burning rage. On a small sofa, beneath an open window, sat his brother, conversing with his father happily and tousling his hair, in the same manner he had employed from his youth. The situation Astonsius had created in the Kingdom had all but vanished from Jareth's mind when he'd laid eyes on Sarah, but now it reared its head venomously, desperate to lash out at his brother and make him pay for his deceit. For his part, Astonsius was playing his role excellently. He smiled and rose with a hearty cry the moment Jareth entered the room and crossed the floor to embrace his brother. Before their arms met, Jareth fixed his younger brother with a stare cold enough to freeze the entire Underground, but for the sake of his father, allowed Astonsius to embrace him.
"You have nerve, showing your face in this castle," Jareth hissed into his ear, holding onto his brother long enough to convey his absolute fury. The two brothers pulled back, both sporting convincing smiles, while their eyes waged vicious battles for them. Astonsius did not seem concerned that his brother's eyes plainly spoke of the harm the King wished to inflict upon him.
"I was always the more daring of the pair of us, Jareth. Take that lovely mortal you let go all those years ago." Astonsius smiled derisively, causing Jareth's fist to ball at his side, in rage. "You gave her thirteen hours to find her way to you, and what did she find instead? A baby and a new way to send you scurrying back to mother and father to lick your wounds for six years. Given the same opportunity, I assure you, I could and would have succeeded in securing her affections, in a fraction of that time."
Jareth glanced at his father, who was watching the boys out of the corner of his eye, as he perused an ancient history tome. The retired king was not hard of hearing, but when it came to the boys' quarrels, he always seemed to turn the deaf ear. Jareth found it both infuriating and reassuring that his father allowed them to solve their own problems without interference or prejudice towards one side or the other.
"And that is where you allow your pride to cloud your judgment, Astonsius." He looked back to his brother, smiling confidently. "Had you ever taken to investigating those your claims, especially in reference to Sarah, you would know that she would never have trusted you, let alone lowered her guard long enough to allow you to worm your way into her affections. She was wary of me, though I played my part honestly. A kind Goblin King would have sent her running for the hills. Sadly, brother, I fear that under your supervision, Sarah would have completed the Labyrinth that much faster." Jareth clapped a hand to his brother's shoulder in mock affection and then turned to his father as he crossed the floor. Knocking those below him down a peg or two always helped his spirits. And now that Sarah was here he was finding that Astonsius' threat seemed like one he would've made when they were children. Perhaps this visit wouldn't be quite so bad, after all.
--
Sarah tried to steal a glance at her room as Arroyan opened the doors, but he was blocking the way so completely that all she could do was admire the fine work his tailor had done on his jacket.
The walk had taken a good five minutes and she had been anxious to see what waited for her since Arroyan had first mentioned her room but he'd done his level best to drag out the time between making her and Jareth go their separate ways and the time when she got to see her room. When he finally stepped back to let her in, she rolled her eyes at him and walked purposefully into the room as if she were a military commander who'd come to inspect a room and leave. But as she stepped inside and took in her surroundings, her jaw dropped and breath hitched in her throat. Had she been in a movie, this would've been when the violins and dreamland music started playing.
The room was white with a gleaming hardwood floors. Instantly, she felt as if she'd stepped back into her skin, so to speak, and the immediate comfort worried her slightly. She was going to be here for…well, forever, but she'd made up her mind when she'd packed her duffle that she'd be on her guard. Jareth needed help. Done. He needed her to stay in the Kingdom forever. No problem. He needed her to trust him. Well…that'd take a little while, but given the sight before her it might not take as long as she'd originally expected.
The furniture was the first thing that tipped her off to some sort of plan. The bedstead, the bureau, the chaise, the trim, everything was the same dark, ebony colored wood that she herself had picked out, Aboveground. The second was her lazy, lacy taste, as the magazine that had featured her apartment had called it. The ornately carved French doors that led out onto a small balcony had been opened and the breeze played with the cream colored curtains, idly blowing them about. The midday sun, which fell first through leaves outside and then in through the windows, cast the room in a peachy color that made her feel like she was back in her apartment.
The bed was king sized and drenched in white. The contrast between the destruction of color of the frame of the bed and the lack of color of the bedding brought a smile to her lips as she moved toward it. A high headboard revealed intricate carvings that seemed to tell a story as they wound their way first over the bridge of the board and then up the posts of the canopy. Sheer white canopy linens were tied to the bedposts, to keep them out of the way. She smiled, delighted, as she ran her hand over them.
Turning again, she let her eyes look over the rest of the room. The chaise she'd glimpsed when she had first entered the room sat by a large fireplace making a small half circle with a very comfortable looking armchair and a coffee table. On the floor, directly in front of the hearth, there was a plush white carpet that she thought would be extremely comfortable for some late night reading, by the fire. Across from the fireplace, on the other side of the room was a bureau that so mimicked the one she had owned Aboveground that she couldn't help but throw Arroyan a suspicious grin. He did nothing but smile as she continued her inspection of the room.
Past the bureau was a door. She crossed to it, pulling on the handle and stepping back as the door swung open. All at once, the fears she had harbored over the lack of plumbing, or substandard plumbing measures, of the Underground melted. There was not only plumbing, there was style and thought in this room as well.
Everything bore the same tones as the rest of her bedroom. The mirror above the sink was wide and trimmed in the same color wood, the sink and pedestal were white, and the bathtub, though it was sunken into the floor, had the same ebony colored trim running around the lip of it. She leaned against the doorframe, as she took in the room that looked as if it had sprung from her own imagination. Even the toilet, which was just a plain toilet, looked perfect.
She came back into the bedroom and turned to Arroyan, her face beaming with happiness and gratitude as she struggled to find words to express her pleasure.
"I…how…how did you do this?" She asked as she walked back towards him, one hand trailing behind her, vaguely indicating the bedroom and bathroom. Arroyan grinned and shrugged.
"The inspiration came from your home, as you might've guessed. But the actual transformation, well, that's…that's…" He glanced at her, his brow furrowed. "How would you put it Aboveground?"
"Classified?" Sarah offered. He broke into a wide smile and nodded.
"I love it. It's beautiful," Sarah gushed further. Arroyan cocked an eyebrow and smirked as he took a step towards her.
"You haven't seen it all, yet." Glancing up at him in confusion, she allowed him to steer her towards another doorway, just past the fireplace, that she hadn't noticed before. Giving her the tiniest of shoves, Arroyan waited outside and allowed Sarah to enter the room alone before following.
The bathroom was nothing. As she stepped through the doorway and looked around, she found herself in the midst of the biggest closet she'd ever seen. Moreover, it was completely full of clothes, shoes, undergarments, jewelry, and accessories…anything she could ever need to make any ensemble the perfect one. The duffle bag of clothes she'd brought with her paled in comparison to what she now stared at with giddy excitement.
Taking a tentative step down the aisle that divided the room in two, she looked to her left. Racks of jeans greeted her, followed by t-shirts of her favorite bands, movies, sayings, everything. After that there were long sleeved shirts, blouses, dress pants, pajama pants, sweaters, tank tops, corsets – anything and everything she'd worn or wanted to wear Aboveground. It was like someone had flipped through every one of her favorite catalogues and had purchased all the things that she would like to have owned. She was about to wade into the jungle of clothes and look them all over, but her memory called her back and pointed out that there was another half to the room.
She turned and stopped dead in her tracks as she encountered the sight of hundreds, if not thousands, of dresses, gowns, two-piece outfits, skirts, and all of the undergarments she'd ever need to pull off any and all of these numbers.
"These are all for me?" Sarah squeaked, her feet rooted to the spot, not daring to venture further into the throng of fashion, but letting her eyes wander over the rows and rows of gowns, taking them in.
There were ball gowns reminiscent of every single Disney movie she'd ever seen, low cut gowns that looked as if they might've been in style in the 1700's, but still somehow piqued her interest, hoop skirted ball gowns, sundresses, a veritable assortment of little black dresses, and…as her eyes fell on the last section of the "formal wear" side of her closet, she couldn't stand still any longer. She plunged into the racks in the middle of the collection, inspecting each dress as she did her best to remember to breath. These were designer couture gowns. She recognized the designs of Armani, Versace, Gucci, Vuitton, Dolce and Gabanna. She was quite sure that she'd seen some of these at Oscars past, but there were some particularly stunning numbers that she'd never seen before and she idly wondered if Jareth had a connection to the fashion world that no one was aware of.
"They are indeed," Arroyan replied, inspecting the ring that graced his little finger and turning it slightly, so that it sat at the correct angle. He glanced up at where she had been and smiled as his eyes searched for her ponytail, bobbing up and down as she inspected the gowns. "And I should tell you that dinner is always a formal occasion, in the Underground. You'll need to wear a dress." Sarah's eyes never left the dresses, but she did register his comment and the seriousness of the situation struck her, causing her to stop and emerge from the rows of dresses. Should she wear one of the gigantic 18th century looking gowns with the big skirts, or a sundress, or one of the Grammy worthy numbers? The possibilities were endless, but she had no idea what would be expected of her, and she'd resolved, upon setting foot in the castle, that she would do her level best not to cause too much of a disturbance.
"Um…which…which kind should I wear?" She waved vaguely at the rows and rows of gowns, trying to signify that there were over a hundred different styles to choose from, within this closet.
"For this evening, one of the dresses you would wear to…" He paused, his brow furrowing as he realized the Above and Underground's customs and sense of formality probably didn't match. "…something formal that you would feel at ease wearing to an Aboveground function." Sarah nodded and turned, prepared to plunge back in. Arroyan, sensing that he was about to lose the calm and collected Sarah to a vicious bout of girlish enthusiasm, moved into the closet, against his better judgment, and took hold of her elbow, guiding her out of the room, amidst garbled protestation.
"You'll have plenty of time to choose your gown this evening, Sarah. For now, I think it best to get you acquainted with the castle. Jareth and I will not always be able to escort you." She looked up at him and closed her mouth, which had, up until then, been releasing odd sounds in the form of remonstration for being taken away from all her new clothes. His words struck an oddly uncomfortable chord with her and she paused for a moment, before letting go of the breath she'd been holding. Got too used to the idea of being near him, Sarah, she chided herself gently. He rules an entire Kingdom that's even bigger than the Labyrinth. You can't expect to keep him all to yourself. She felt Arroyan's eyes watching her, and suddenly she was concerned that he'd noticed the slight shift in her mood. Plastering a smile on her face, she crossed her arms over her chest in defiance and raised her eyebrows bemusedly, doing her best imitation of a cocky, self-confident New Yorker.
"Please, Arroyan. I'm from Manhattan, home of the twice-a-day muggers. I think I'll be okay walking down a few hallways, in a castle, without you guys." He smiled and nodded, but his eyes suggested that he'd read more into her three-second lapse than she felt comfortable with. Suddenly her heart was beating harshly, as if trying to explode from her chest rather than let Arroyan figure out what the silence had meant. He was still staring at her as if she'd just given him a vital clue to a mystery he'd been trying to solve and she was positive she knew what the numbers added up to. Smirking, she shook her head at him in what she hoped was enough confidence to put him off her trail for the time being and moved ahead of him for the door. Even with the windows open, the room was suddenly awfully stuffy.
--
Jareth closed the door to the study with a wave of his hand as he undid his jacket and pulled it off, tossing it rashly into a corner of the room. The meeting with his father had done nothing to calm him and the way that Astonsius had kept referring to the Kingdom as "our" legacy had made him want to throw his brother from a window. He sat heavily in the chair behind his desk and closed his eyes for a moment before a thought occurred to him: Sarah.
Summoning a crystal to his fingertips, he twisted it slightly and felt a smile spring to his lips as he watched her walking side by side with Arroyan as he showed her the castle. For the most part, Sarah seemed content to stay quiet and listen as Arroyan pointed out rooms worth paying attention to, her head bowed slightly, as if she were pondering something. It was very unlike Sarah, who had always walked with her head held high and her eyes taking in all she could.
The idea that she might be so consumed with pondering an idea that she would ignore the beauty that was the castle intrigued him and for the next few minutes, he watched her intently, trying to figure out what was troubling her. The marriage? The separation from her family? Their history together? They were all viable options, and as he mulled them over, he found his eyes drawn down to her hands. Her left hand held onto her right tenderly, almost as if it were hurt, but her thumb and middle finger were moving in a repetitive pattern. The crystal's focus shifted to reflect his interest and he had a clearer view of her hands. He watched as silver flashed between revolutions and then froze the image in the crystal as the object became clear.
"A Claddaugh," he murmured quietly, sitting back in his chair with a smirk. Sure enough, the central focus of the crystal showed two hands grasping a crowned heart – the trademark Irish symbol of love, loyalty, and friendship. The heart pointed out, signifying that her heart belonged to no one, and it generated a stab of anger that coursed through his chest like water down a drain. Another twist of his wrist and the crystal was gone. The feeling remained.
Jareth pulled one of the documents on his desk towards him, instinctively. Work always took his mind off of the troubling issues. His eyes scanned the first line of the document four or five times before he realized he hadn't absorbed any of it and let his eyes drift upwards. Sighing, he set the parchment down and stood, moving out from behind his desk and beginning the familiar motions of pacing his study.
Sarah was obviously feeling trepidation over her situation; it was written all over her face and her body language screamed it. There was another emotion he saw there, and he couldn't place that one, but it was even stronger than the first. And what of his own feelings? Every time he saw her, his heart seemed to swell and he found it just a little harder to breathe. His mind often became lax in its duties when she spoke and he, who was always on top of the situation, found himself silently begging her to lead him where she would.
It's no way for a King to behave, he found himself thinking sternly. Vaguely his own words echoed in his mind, from so long ago.
Come, come, come, Hogbrain! I'm surprised at you; losing your head over a girl.
"Ironic," he muttered grimly. With a deep sigh, he turned back to his desk and sat once again, pulling the same piece of work towards him and focusing on the words. He'd see her again in a little over two hours. He prayed silently that he'd get something done by then, but he wasn't holding his breath.
--
The pair turned down another hall and Sarah finally found herself somewhere she recognized: right outside her bedroom door. Looking up at Arroyan, she smiled.
"Is this the part where I turn into a pretty, pretty princess?" she asked, hopefully. Arroyan, unfamiliar with the term, cocked an eyebrow and cleared his throat, but nodded, nonetheless.
"You'll find everything you need in the room, somewhere, and your ladies in waiting will be along shortly. Jareth will escort you to dinner himself. Be ready for seven." She nodded and smiled again as he reached for her hand, mimicking Jareth's movements earlier, though his eyes remained fixed on her skin, instead of her eyes. As he released her, she waved to him as he turned away and headed down the hallway before ducking inside her door and closing it quietly. Turning to survey her room, she let her mind rest for a moment and then pressed a hand to her forehead, pushing the hair out of her face as she went through a checklist of things to do.
"Okay. Dinner with the King. Dinner with the King. Find something to wear. Take a shower. Or a bath…or…whatever. Get dressed. All by seven. Right. Got it. No problem." She started towards the closet, her mind jumping back and forth between different topics and ideas and by the time she'd arrived in front of the dresses she wanted to look through, she had given up trying to hide her thoughts. As she took hold of a Dolce and Gabanna gown, to push it aside, the words just tumbled out of her mouth.
"Dammit, I'm so screwed."
Author's Note:
Whew. Sorry for the delay. This chapter really didn't want to be written. I am oh-you-tee, ducklings.
But here it is, just the same.
The reviews have all been so encouraging, thank you so much!
And keep them coming.
I admit it...I'm a praise whore.
Regina
