Moving is miserable. Moving to the desert is even more miserable. ;)
Not my characters. Though, I'd probably sell my soul to work for The Jim Henson Company.
Chapter 4: Wicked Step-Mothers Have Nothing on Grumpy Bosses
Sarah followed Jareth – or rather, his Majesty – down yet another narrow, twisty, and cramped flight of stairs while muffling a long-suffering sigh with the back of her hand. She had been dogging his rather hasty footsteps for what felt like forever, ever since he'd so graciously guided her from the tiny study and then all but dragged her through what she was very suspicious had been his bedroom. He had quickly dropped her hand once they'd reached the relative safety of the hallway, and then had proceeded to set a brisk pace, leading her down endless staircases and along winding, windowless corridors seemingly at random.
Alright, so more like His Royal Highness had trotted off down the hall and expected her to follow behind like an obedient animal – which she had. Well, it wasn't as if she had anything better to do with her time, she'd told herself bitterly.
Thankfully for her calves, the Descent into Hell was just that, entirely downhill. She had lost count of how many steps she'd trudged down at around two hundred. After that they'd all begun to blur together as she attempted to keep pace with the evidently indefatigable monarch. She had yet to see any other people – or goblins for that matter – and was beginning to suspect that this 'random' path was not so uncontrived as she had first imagined. It appeared that the King was trying to keep her presence in the castle hidden, at least for the time being. Perhaps to shield her from unnecessary and unwanted attention, but more likely, the paranoid part of her brain insisted, to save him the embarrassment of being seen with her.
At last, the King halted in front of an unassuming and rather nondescript set of double doors. Sarah, engrossed in her melancholic thoughts, had mere seconds to slam on the brakes or plow right into the back of him. Grumbling unkind things about supercilious kings and sulking quite heartily at yet again being made to look like an idiot, it was a good thirty seconds before she glanced up and found Jareth studying her rather critically.
Sighing dramatically – as if the King knew any other way to behave – he delivered his pronouncement on her person like a verdict from heaven, "You will not pass for anything other than what you are. Unfortunately."
Sarah's chin tilted a touch higher while her eyes narrowed, "And just what exactly am I?"
"An Above-Ground girl," the King remarked offhandedly, and then after a brief pause added, "Why? What did you think I meant?"
Her only response was another glare – perhaps this one even more terrifying than the last, because the King hurried on. "Right. Well. Have you thought of a convincing story for how you ended up here?"
Sarah stared at him incredulously, "Was I supposed to be doing that while also running a mini-marathon and trying to keep you in sight at all times so I didn't get lost in your damn confusing castle, which's architectural design, I might add, is actually more ill-conceived than your horrid Labyrinth's?" Her hands had balled into white-knuckled fists at her sides, and she was visibly shaking by the end of her little diatribe.
"I will take that as a no," the King replied with an almost imperceptible wince. "Hmm. Well, most of those from Above I find wandering along the Outskirts say they either followed fairy lights deeper and deeper into the woods until they were hopelessly lost. Or they tripped over nothing at all and ended up falling a bit further down than they had originally anticipated." He paused, and then offered magnanimously, "You may choose whichever you prefer." His customary smug smirk was once again firmly in place, and Sarah was two seconds away from attempting to wipe it off his face permanently when he said rather seriously, "I do not believe I need to explain to you just why you need to refrain from telling all and sundry who you really are, do I?"
Sarah sullenly shook her head.
"Good girl," the King said with what Sarah assumed was supposed to be a reassuring smile. It fell short by many, many miles.
"So, my choices are either I got lost in the woods or tripped over my own feet? Fantastic. Why don't I just say I stepped into a glowing stone ring and was magically transported to fucking Tir Na Nóg while I'm at it?" In her ire, she missed the startled look the King gave her. "I mean, basically you want me to say I'm either a klutz or a moron. Some choice," she finished dryly.
"Well, you did accidently wish yourself away, my dear. Perhaps you are both." The next smile he graced her with was perfectly honest and sincere. A more guileless grin there never was. Unfortunately, it was also the most utterly infuriating thing Sarah had ever seen. For a moment, she was filled with the mad urge to stomp on his foot and make a break for it down the hallway and hopefully to freedom, becoming someone's lunch be damned.
But, as had been happening quite often of late, her fire left just as quickly as it had come, and the reality of her situation weighed heavily upon her. She was trapped, possibly forever, in the Underground with no knowledge of the strange land she found herself in aside from what she had learned while running the Labyrinth, no way to contact her friends Below or Above, and no position in society except for perhaps serving maid to the egotistical jerk that had stolen her away in the first place. And yes, dammit, she knew she had asked, but hadn't the Goblin King ever heard of something called a rhetorical question?
She was once again working herself into a snit of epic proportions when it appeared that the King finally noticed her more than slightly morose expression for he began to cajole in his light, sing-songy fashion, "Sarah, Sarah. Cheer up. It will not be so bad. The others from Above do well enough here. And it is not as if you are the only human in the castle. I dare say, most of the castle's staff is human.. more or less," he finished with a shrug.
Sarah's shoulders slumped in defeat. Suddenly, she was very tired, and she seemed to have caught the headache she had given the King earlier. Sighing deeply and pinching the bridge of her nose, she asked in a vaguely pleading voice, "Can we just get on with it?" She failed to add that being in his presence another second was going to drive her 'round the bend, but she felt that her over-all body language and tone had gotten the message across well enough.
"Very well, then," the King acquiesced with a slight nod and rapped sharply on the nearest door.
A door which was opened by a scowling, red-faced young woman who was clearly expecting someone other than the King because she had just enough time to bluster out an, 'It's about time,' when her eyes grew big as saucers, and she fell into a hasty curtsey, her forehead nearly touching the smooth stone floor her ample skirts had pooled upon.
Actually, Sarah thought it was a bit more like groveling in abject terror rather than a proper curtsey, what with all the, 'I'm so sorry, your Majesty,'s and, 'Please forgive me, your Majesty,'s, but what did she know?
She took some small amusement in the bewildered look plastered across Jareth's face. Apparently he didn't know how to deal with hysterical females anymore than most men. Had the little farce gone on much longer, Sarah probably wouldn't have been able to hold back the laughter that threatened to break free. But thankfully for the King – and what was left of the poor serving girl's dignity – a shrill voice called out from further in the room, "What is going on out there, Getrude? Has Penelope returned?"
"N-no, Madam," the girl, Gertrude, stammered, finally picking herself up off the floor. She then made a valiant attempt to remove the non-existent dust from her skirts and apron, thus giving her an excuse to keep her head bowed and eyes averted from the King still standing in the doorway.
"Well then, who is it?" queried the same, fingernails-on-chalkboard voice. It was getting closer.
"It's.. It's the.. um.." The girl's eyes darted up toward Jareth's face for a moment, then quickly back down. She swallowed heavily before announcing to her shoes, "It's his Royal Highness, the King."
Sarah heard a shuffling, scuffling sound as if someone was dashing across a stone floor at break-neck speed trying to avert the disaster that was Gertrude leaving the King standing out on the doorstep. She was not wrong. In mere seconds, a tall, thin woman dressed in unrelenting black from head to toe appeared on the other side of the door. Her equally black hair was pulled back in a tight, utilitarian bun that tugged at the corners of her eyes, giving her a slightly elfin appearance. Given where she was, Sarah supposed it wasn't impossible that it was not only her appearance that was elfin.
"Your Highness," the woman cooed, her nasally voice doing nothing to ease Sarah's aching skull, "good afternoon. We were not expecting you. Otherwise…" She gave Gertrude a cool, condescending look before continuing. "Well. Never mind. What's done is done," she said with a shrug and a tight-lipped smile. "What can we do for you, Your Majesty?"
"Marbo, I have brought you another foundling. This is Sarah Williams," he stated grandly, beckoning Sarah to precede him into the room. When he did not immediately follow her through the door, she turned and gave him a questioning glance.
"Sarah, this is Madam Marbo. You will be in her care from now on," he said reassuringly. He seemed to be laying it on a bit thick, and she wondered if it was for the benefit of the head of the household staff or if he always acted so pompous in public. She decided it really didn't matter and turned her attention to the woman who would be her boss for at least the next six months. All in all, she gave Sarah the impression of nothing so much as a walking, talking stick with hair.
Apparently she found Sarah just as wanting because she asked the King rather dubiously, "And does she… do anything?"
"Cooks and cleans like any other woman from Above, I would imagine, Marbo. You know how it is. But there isn't anywhere else to place her at the moment," the King said somewhat apologetically.
Sarah's pupils dilated at the words coming out of Jareth's mouth. Had they been alone, she surely would have attempted bloody murder. As it was, she forced herself to stand perfectly still as she let various scenes of torture play through her head in hopes that one of the King's many skills was mind-reading – not that he'd shown much aptitude for it before.
Madam Marbo nodded in understanding, "Well, we will just have to make do, I suppose. We've done it before." She gave Sarah a disdainful pressing together of the lips that was apparently supposed to pass for a smile.
Sarah responded with a brief baring of teeth that she supposed could also pass for a smile – among feral dogs. It was like being introduced to Karen all over again. Except that this woman was a thousand times worse – knobbly, black, sour-faced stick that she was.
"I can see the two of you are going to get along marvelously," Jareth announced gregariously. Sarah hoped that he was being ironic, otherwise he was really dumb. Perhaps generalities about blonds held true even across species.
"Yes, I'm sure," the black-clad woman agreed with such forced politeness Sarah wondered that she didn't choke.
"Well then, Sarah, I'll be off." He turned with a flourish, and right when he was about to step away, Sarah found she couldn't stop herself. She just had to say, "Goodbye."
"Your Highness," she muttered belatedly.
He turned once more to face her and solemnly said, "Goodbye." He stared at her for a moment before adding, "Sarah Williams." And then he was gone.
"Now, now, what to do with you?" The shrill-voiced harpy was speaking again. It made Sarah want to go take a nap in a dark room.
"Gertrude," Marbo shifted her attention to the previously forgotten girl, "find her a bed and something suitable to wear."
"Yes, Madam," Gertrude replied with a quick nod.
"Come along, Sarah," she beckoned, forcing the girl from Above to tear her eyes away from the door that had swung shut upon the King's departure and step forward into her new life as a serving maid in the Castle in the Center of the Labyrinth.
