The Story Teller gazed at him with eyes like the greenest sea with a look of pure love. Her lips were swollen with the touch she had provided him, glowing with blood beneath the pink skin. Though her body smelled putrid with the stink of the blood he had let spill from his body into hers, he could still catch the hint of her sweetness beneath it, and how the scent sang to him in a new voice he could not comprehend why. The moment her lips had left his he had longed for the touch again; indeed he craned toward her and kissed her again, surprising them both with the gesture.
"What are you?" He said, in a very human sounding voice.
She blinked dazedly and her eyes slid closed as she kissed him again. The feel of her was like another world grasping his heart. Her fingers in his soft human hair were gentle and weak, but trembling. Her whole body was trembling, and losing its strength. He worried for a moment if it was simply his wretched blood inside her, but a little sound in the back of her throat ushered in a new idea.
"Jareth…" She whispered against his mouth. Had he even told her his name? He could not remember.
He rolled over on top of her, their bones poking awkwardly, but no distractingly as they both clawed at each other's faces trying to prevent any unwanted separation. It was a mess of contact, their mouths together while he suddenly felt the need to touch her elsewhere and everywhere.
This desire was far keener than the urges he had felt while hunting her in the Labyrinth. This was pure natural want of this creature. He released her mouth to kiss her neck, her collarbone, the valley between her breasts. He was plagued by the cotton of her dress, but he waited not a second before tearing the clothing away. He removed all clothing from her and held the pale skinned body, ablaze with warmth against his very human chest.
The proceedings would have continued as sweetly as they had begun, little pain would have been felt, leaden blood would have been cleansed but a dark pair of eyes was watching from a shadow in the dim room. They crackled with rage, determined not to be defeated by the course of pure love, the Lady Goddess lifted a slender hand and sent a stream of green fire towards the back of the newly made man. The flame made contact with the back of his neck and from that source his feathers sprouted once more, his fangs sharpened, his claws replaced the hands luxuriously caressing his love, and wings burst from his back, ripped his skin clean off and blood splattered the couple.
The change that came over his body sent a shock wave through both bodies. Cerah cried out, for suddenly the soft fingers were sharp talons digging in to her still scabbing flesh, reopening barely healed wounds. The king cried out too, for suddenly he was overwhelmed by the scent of his meal, she reeked of sweet blood, boiling under thick delicious skin that he yearned to sink his teeth into. She was making perfect little moans of pain, and it was eliciting a new addition to his blood lust and he felt growing tremors of delight somewhere under his feathers. He found the source of need, and acted upon the desires of his flesh. This unloving sex hurt. Cerah felt her soul splitting in two pieces, whatever had caused his transformation had rendered their joining souls separate again, and she felt every thrusting pain of it in her bleeding body. Above her, his wild eyes peered darkly through a foliage of feathers. He convulsed suddenly, with his physical lust spent he moved slowly, achingly toward the middle of her chest where her heart beat loudly under pink skin. Before she could gasp for air his fangs penetrated the quivering flesh and with no hesitation tore the skin away, with a loud wet rip. Cerah went snow-blind with pain, a soundless scream drew cracking air out of her lungs, she could hear the bird-king slurping and chewing on her skin and muscle. He dove for another bite, opening the gap in her chest even wider than before, and blood squirted violently in every direction from her body.
In the shadows her mother turned away, unable to watch, even though it was her dearest wish. Her world was saved; destiny was changed to suit the gods once more. She vanished into the wall, stepping back into her
homeland in the Otherlands. Her daughter watched with knowing eyes streaming with tears. Her heart beat so fast until the King tore it from her, pressed it against his lips with a violent moan and sucked it clean of her sweet tasting
blood. He did not see her die; he did not feel her soul pass through him or crash against his own.
It was hours when he lay beside her blue body, waking from a fed stupor before he realized what he had done. He was covered head to toe in her blood, the blood around his middle a gasp of red that sang or rape. The redness streaked across his face mocked him. He felt the feathers he had treasured fall away, his hair shortened, his hands softened. He met the wide eyed gaze of her corpse with the soul and body of a man. He stared at her, spread out across the bed, her legs open, revealing a dead river of red where blood had been flowing. A gaping hole had taken over her torso; he could not even find or see her breasts amid the torn muscle and meat. The neck he had kissed was riddled with tooth marks, deep holes where her last breathes struggled not to drown in and the face above this neck was mostly untouched. Her lips were swollen, but blue, not the bright pink they had been, and at the corner of her mouth a little trail of blood had begun dripping. Green vibrant eyes were now glass marbles, vacant and deflating in her skull. He shook as he reached to touch her delicate face, the skin was still soft, and like new snow it was icy.
"No..." He could not fathom the mistake. He gathered her up in his arms, held her wet dead body up to his own. Naked he rocked like that for a long time, even as her body sagged and she began to smell like sin.
"Jareth..."
"Who is there?" He shot around and met terrible gazes with the intruder. It was a man, tall, well-muscled with bright blue skin. The Soul Bearer. For a moment Jareth's spirits lifted and still clutching her body to his own he stumbled to the floor with his free arm outstretched imploringly.
"Spirit! Please! I have made a terrible mistake; I could not contain my evil! Restore, please, my other half."
The Blue Man shook his head at the mournful creature sadly and spoke with a thunderous whisper. "I cannot fix your mistake, but I shall tell you of your future. She may return to you once and only once. The gods permit it, one reincarnation, and one more chance where she may return to you. You will, if destiny is fulfilled, marry her in the deepest sense. As one the world around you shall be restored."
"What am I to do in the waiting? When shall she return? How shall I live as a being I do not know?" he looked down at this unfamiliar body. Human-like but stinking of magic.
"Your punishment is as follows: you and the rest of the spirits trapped in your land shall be doomed to monstrosity until her return. I deem each soul here 'goblin' and you shall be their king and they shall plague you in your many years. Many shall you test with your great maze and all shall fail and your numbers shall grow. But one day, she will return to you. She will return and be the queen you have desired."
The now Goblin King said nothing, he could feel the growing change.
"Fabricate the dreams of others, but above all others, be her slave. The world then, shall find its peace."
When the great blue man vanished suddenly Jareth found he was alone. Her body was gone now as well. The room was empty, dark and icy. There was a click, a snap, the sound of scratching feet. Then the doors
burst open and a gaggle of nasty smelling creatures with bulbous eyes and limbs appeared before him. His goblins.
They nipped at his naked body, tugged the strands of wild hair and sneered at him. One stood out amongst the rest, a blue eyed creature, who was not quite goblin, yet no longer a man. The spirit that Cerah had named Hog stood staring at Jareth sadly, a small dwarf clinging to the bag of jewels he carried. The king grimaced at him, feeling himself grow angry. He scrambled to his feet and screamed "Silence!"
At his command there was a great hush. So began the rule of the Goblin King. So began his wait, and the world's wait, for Cerah.
"I wish the goblins would come and take you away… right now."
The words. The right words. He opened his eyes, readied himself for his great reveal, wondering if she would remember, wondering if she would like the way he looked now. It was a terribly foolish way to think, but his years spent in wait of her. She had been well hidden for a number of years, but he had found her. She was even more beautiful, fierier, and very young and the moment he saw her he could not understand why he had destroyed her, or how it had even been in his power to do so. He wanted to praise the ground she stepped on, but at the same time wanted equal praise for his own dirt. He felt a funny need for her, a love for her that yearned for her love in return.
She was quite young though, and some secret rule had it, as it always was, that he could not tell her what truly everything meant.
"You have no power over me."
Her eyes looked so sad though, as though beneath all her memories of this life the old life fought for remembrance. She turned away, but he knew that he needed to wait. This was not the way.
As if she wanted to wreak havoc on his newly broken heart the Lady Goddess was waiting in his throne room the night Sarah had rejected him. She was holding one of his crystals in her long-fingered hands. In the crystal he could see the sleeping image of Sarah, arms around a Fiery, Hog, or Hoggle nearby on her bed. The red yeti lay on the floor nearby and scattered about her friends, the spirits of the Labyrinth shared in her victory. He could not help but smile at this sight, it was so sweet.
"You are still quite selfish," The Lady said. "You could not help but drug her just once to see if she may remember you. Seems your attempts were all for nothing though. She still left you."
Cerah could see then what her mother was doing. And she longed to stop it. She rose tall from the sighing monster at her ankles and faced her mother. The woman's bones were sharper than ever finally reflecting the harsh angles of the woman within, the creature who yearned for power.
"Mother," Cerah reached her scarred arms toward her, giving her the choice. "I know the wrongs that have been done, I see them still, every moment I can feel death upon me. But I know it was not him who lost control, he is not the evil-doer. He may have been born a monster, but none may help their birth. If I could have I would have never wished to be born from you. You stood in the shadows and prevented the marriage of our souls. You poisoned his mind and body and infected him with your wishes so he may end me. We were lucky to be given the second chance. I shall give you one now too, mother. Take my hands, please and let the world just be."
Her eyes were shining gloriously, begging her mother. Her hands did not shake as she held them out; they boldly remained in the air, pale in their spectral quality.
At her feet Jareth was watching, the muscles in his body tense. He was shifting between forms, human and bird, struggling to decide, for he was worried that Cerah was still in danger.
The Lady Goddess was still hidden in shadow, suspended in a cloud of confused rage. But when she stepped into the light and took her daughter's hands, the light of her child blossomed brightly and shed light on her dark terrible eyes. Cerah rushed to embrace her and was met with a cold touch. She tried not to let it weary her love, as hard and stiff as her mother held her she wanted to cherish it as though it were the softest touch.
Jareth could see beneath the air of love, the green eyes were darkening.
"Cerah!" He dove but was too late.
With hands glowing the color of maple leaves, the Lady Goddess plunged her fingers into her daughter's ghostly back and let spread her poison through Cerah's stunned ghost. It bled through her, dying the wispy clouds of her being a dark green. The goddess huffed with the effort of performing the murder, straining against Jareth, holding him back with her burning wall of green flame.
Cerah was suspended in silence, and she stared into the glare of her mother's eyes. It was all she could see, all she could feel were those sharp fingers like blades, sinking further into her and tearing her apart. Wild memories of her previous life swam in her head, the moment of death, the look of the shadows basking darkness over her mother's skin.
Her mouth hung open, lolling to the side and she made a horrible hissing sound. Jareth echoed her cry, fighting horribly to free her, once again the dark bird he was born as, clawing at the magic that guarded the Lady Goddess and her spawn. The magic cut his feathers from his body and ripped at his skin, but still he persisted, begging the goddess to release her. Cerah still hung on the fingers of her mother, like spikes driven into her body, her limbs dangling gently.
Years of suffering at the hands of this woman had worn Cerah's soul, she could tell now that this death would be permanent; she would never rise again if she allowed her mother to demolish her. Jareth was fighting for her, straining every magic and muscle in his body. His strength, his want gave her strength, or at least the hope to find it.
She remembered the kiss from thousands of years ago, the touch that changed the bird into a man, and remembered the goddess in the shadows who changed his heart to murder her. She could see herself, in her new body, stepping out onto the streets, this time, the figures that followed her were not two young men with bright eyes, but two green demons, collared at the neck with chains leading up into the sky where, her mother, cloaked in green watched with a disgusted eye.
Every step of pain had been on the fault of this woman. This goddess of agony, who had risked everything to keep inequality. Cerah felt angry tears streaming hot down her cheeks, and in a rush felt the power of wings splitting her mother's poisoned fingers from her back.
Cerah shot upward, spreading a pair of dark feathered wings, the color of her hair. Jareth found the opportunity to pounce on the terrible goddess. Cerah soared downward, taking Jareth's shoulders in her hands and pulling him from the screaming goddess.
Suspended in the air Cerah wound her arms around his neck, all thoughts of sorrows, maddening mazes and trickery were vanishing. The tips of their wings touched delicately, feathers tangling as they hovered, more on the magic then on flight. Jareth's hand came up to cup her cheek in his hand, the bird features of his body were now gone, save his majestic wings. There was a wicked glare in his eyes, and a smile on his face, that sneering smirk of a grin that made Cerah's heart flutter. She did not know when she started loving him, "perhaps" had come much quicker then she had expected.
"Cerah," He said. "We must marry in the truest form if we want this world to balance."
"Now, you say that precious, but truly I think you are only concerned with your own pleasure." She said. "And you have forgotten that I am a ghost."
The Lady Goddess, quite forgotten to Cerah and Jareth, let out a cry of surprise. Suddenly a cloud of violent blue light appeared above the trio. Jareth clutched his ghost-bride greedily and protectively, lowering to the ground slowly.
The blue light darkened, and a tall Blue Man stepped out of its sheen. He had many tattoos over his long arms and his skin shone cerulean. There was a wondrous smile on his face.
"You have each proven yourself," He spoke, like the happiest rain storm of summer. "Life is granted where life is earned."
Cerah could feel. Truly feel. From under the wisps of her dewy spectral spirit a new flesh began to be born, and from this her new body was created.
Jareth gathered her in his arms, though possessively, Cerah knew in time, his troubled heart would ease and his hold would not be so dangerously evil. Cerah pushed him back to peer over her limbs and inspect herself. Traces of Sarah were mixed in with this body, but the white scars, very faded still marked her troubled journey. Jareth kissed the one closest to her wrist, and his eyes shone with apology.
Somewhere in the background Cerah's mother was falling to pieces. Literally.
The Blue Man had turned to her while the lover's inspected Cerah's new body and said "You shall no longer toy with destiny, child of the stars." The words were quiet, but ringing with power that went far beyond magic.
Her skin, pale as moonbeams turned a somber grey and fell like blown cobwebs inward towards her brain, now rotted and riddled with holes and sagging thoughts. She spoke no last words, no great heaving breath was emitted from her body. She crumbled quietly to the floor and accumulated into a pile of sharp bones and dust. Cerah would not miss her.
The Story-Teller took one look at the dead pile of goddess and cocked her head quizzically like a bird. The Blue Man bowed to her before stepping into his glowing light and vanishing. Jareth noticed the question in her eyes.
"What is it, precious?" He placed a hand on her shoulder.
She sighed quietly. "My mother... She was not all bad. There was one redeeming quality in her."
"What was that?"
"She never would have admitted it... But she loved my father more than anything. She was simply too proud to let herself be with him. Even after he died she still loved him, loved me too for being part of him."
"I can hardly believe that."
The Story Teller turned wild moss colored eyes toward him, and smiled devilishly. "Believe it. I am the Story Teller. I know everything."
To be Concluded…
