Chapter Seven: Riddles
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"
Cassandra laughed. "No, you must be joking."
"It's true." Charity laughed. "He quoted the whole sonnet as if it came from his own mind."
"It seems either Stephan thinks you are a complete fool or he is a complete fool over you."
"Oh, I really don't think that is the case."
"Which one?" Cassandra smirked.
"Both!"
The two women burst into a fit of laughter. Cassandra sobered slightly when she thought about the statement she had just made.
"You know Charity, I think Jareth may be just as smitten with you as Stephan."
"What?"
"Well, he and I were out walking yesterday and he said the strangest thing about you. Well, it wasn't really strange, it was just odd." Cassandra stopped for a second, then shook her head. "I'm not making any sense. What I mean is, he said that Stephan was in love with you. I think he was too by the way he was talking."
Charity blushed slightly but shook her head. "Neither brother is in love with me, I assure you. I got Jareth into too many pranks to be in love with him or he with me. And Stephan," a light sigh escaped her lips, "well, he's never even noticed me since I was born. I just sort of tagged along with him and my brother when they were causing trouble."
Cassandra noticed the sigh, and decided that perhaps Stephan should wake up and notice the beautiful woman before him, before he lost her completely.
As for Jareth…
* * * * *
Jareth reigned in Dante and dismounted, taking the pad of paper with him to sit on the same spot he had the day before. The moment he sat down thoughts of her eyes filled his mind. With a gaze out to the sea, he began to write.
"I think of you as I do the sea…"
No, that wasn't good enough. He took the page and crumpled it. Then he began to scribble, not really writing anything, just words.
Soon, he found himself writing names, Stephan, Charity, Cassandra. Cassandra.
Always Cassandra.
* * * * *
Cassandra spotted Dante long before she did his rider. She knew it was Jareth though, and for some reason she knew he would be sitting there on the moss, staring out at the sea.
Walking up behind him, she noticed he was furiously writing. Perhaps it was his valentine for the following night.
"I do hope you're having better luck with yours than I am with mine."
Jareth jumped at the sound of her voice, dropping the paper, watching it float out of his reach and over the cliff. "Damn," he muttered lowly.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't think to startle you."
Jareth turned to her with a frown. "I worked for hours on that one."
Cassandra studied his face for a moment then smiled. "Was it any good?"
"No." Was his sullen reply.
She couldn't help but laugh. "I know, me too. I think I've killed a hundred trees in the past two days, and come up with nothing at all." Walking over to the cliff she sat down beside him and grinned. "Perhaps we should just steal some poem by Byron and say it's ours."
"Or Shakespeare."
Cassandra was reminded then about her earlier conversation. "Jareth, what do you think of Charity?"
He looked at her sideways. "What?"
"I mean, how do you feel about her?"
"She's spoiled rotten, but a good girl at heart." He shrugged. "I don't know, I've known her since she was born, and she's always been a little terror."
Cassandra couldn't help herself. "So you don't, I mean, you're not in…"
"In love with her? Is that what you think?" He glanced at her carefully. "No, I love her as I would a sister."
"Oh." She fell silent.
Jareth turned to look at her. Why was Cassandra acting so strange? Then it dawned on him. She must have hoped he would be in love with Charity so Stephan would be free.
He watched her eyes, they always told him the truth. But at this moment they were unreadable, dark, a murky blue which seemed to glaze over with the threat of tears.
"Cassandra." He spoke softly and placed a hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes nearly glistened with tears. He couldn't bear to see her cry.
That was what he told himself at least as he leaned in and kissed her gently. He was only comforting her, that was all. Her lips, however, soft and innocent, caused him to forget all thoughts of comfort and pull her to him, deepening the kiss and reacting with surprise as she kissed him back with a hesitant passion.
Cassandra couldn't believe what was happening. She was falling, she knew that, falling into a void she never wanted to return from. His lips sent a fire through her body, and a low moan escaped from her throat. This was what she wanted; this was what she had always wanted.
This was how they were meant to be.
She held onto him tighter with one arm as she ran her other hand through his hair. "Jareth," she whispered.
He heard her whisper his name, and it was as if she had struck him. What was he doing, taking advantage of her like this? Clearly she was in love with his brother, and here he was, seducing the poor girl. He pulled back, a shocked look on his face. Of all the terrible things he had done in his life, he had never taken advantage of a woman. Disgust for himself grew within.
Cassandra saw the disgust in his eyes and nearly cried out. She watched silently as he stood up and walked away, leaving the pad of paper lying on the ground. What had she done? He must surely hate her now. She picked up the paper and glanced at the first page.
Oh God, what had she done?
There, written on the paper, was the name "Charity."
* * * * *
The next morning Cassandra sat by the window and sighed again. Nothing seemed to make sense. The way she had felt when she was kissing Jareth was like nothing else. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun it was over. It was over, and he hated her.
"What did I do?" She murmured softly. "What did I do?"
She saw a movement down below and squinted to see. Her heart beat faster. It was Jareth. He was there, standing in the rose garden, gazing at the bushes, walking around them as if lost. Suddenly he stopped and gazed at a single bush, not moving at all.
Perhaps…
Cassandra jumped up and ran out of her suite, knocking goblins over left and right. Breathless, she reached the bottom of the stairs and the garden. He still stood there.
"Jareth."
He turned. The look in his eyes froze her in place.
"Cassandra."
Somehow she found her voice. "Jareth, I…"
"I am sorry Cassandra for what happened yesterday. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I never meant to take advantage of you. It will never happen again, I assure you."
But I want it to happen again! She wanted to scream. Now! I want you to kiss me like you did on the cliffs; I want you to keep on kissing me forever, to never stop. I love you Jareth, damn you, I love you.
But all she said was "I understand." And with a nod, he walked away.
Cassandra watched him retreat with sad eyes and shook her head. Truly, he must hate her. With a deep sigh she walked over to where he had stood. Her eyes widened.
There, in the middle of February, a single rose had bloomed.
Hesitant, she reached out and touched the deep red petals. She could almost swear she had felt warmth in the petals.
"Well," she muttered to herself, "It's been a mild winter, and there is some grass growing already, why not a rose?"
It seemed to agree with her as a wind blew past, and it bobbed its head up and down.
"Perhaps you can convince your friends to grow as well," she whispered. Turning, she headed back to her house, a conversation from earlier etched in her mind.
"They only need love to grow…"
"Yes," Cassandra muttered, "but love for whom?"
* * * * *
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"
Cassandra laughed. "No, you must be joking."
"It's true." Charity laughed. "He quoted the whole sonnet as if it came from his own mind."
"It seems either Stephan thinks you are a complete fool or he is a complete fool over you."
"Oh, I really don't think that is the case."
"Which one?" Cassandra smirked.
"Both!"
The two women burst into a fit of laughter. Cassandra sobered slightly when she thought about the statement she had just made.
"You know Charity, I think Jareth may be just as smitten with you as Stephan."
"What?"
"Well, he and I were out walking yesterday and he said the strangest thing about you. Well, it wasn't really strange, it was just odd." Cassandra stopped for a second, then shook her head. "I'm not making any sense. What I mean is, he said that Stephan was in love with you. I think he was too by the way he was talking."
Charity blushed slightly but shook her head. "Neither brother is in love with me, I assure you. I got Jareth into too many pranks to be in love with him or he with me. And Stephan," a light sigh escaped her lips, "well, he's never even noticed me since I was born. I just sort of tagged along with him and my brother when they were causing trouble."
Cassandra noticed the sigh, and decided that perhaps Stephan should wake up and notice the beautiful woman before him, before he lost her completely.
As for Jareth…
* * * * *
Jareth reigned in Dante and dismounted, taking the pad of paper with him to sit on the same spot he had the day before. The moment he sat down thoughts of her eyes filled his mind. With a gaze out to the sea, he began to write.
"I think of you as I do the sea…"
No, that wasn't good enough. He took the page and crumpled it. Then he began to scribble, not really writing anything, just words.
Soon, he found himself writing names, Stephan, Charity, Cassandra. Cassandra.
Always Cassandra.
* * * * *
Cassandra spotted Dante long before she did his rider. She knew it was Jareth though, and for some reason she knew he would be sitting there on the moss, staring out at the sea.
Walking up behind him, she noticed he was furiously writing. Perhaps it was his valentine for the following night.
"I do hope you're having better luck with yours than I am with mine."
Jareth jumped at the sound of her voice, dropping the paper, watching it float out of his reach and over the cliff. "Damn," he muttered lowly.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't think to startle you."
Jareth turned to her with a frown. "I worked for hours on that one."
Cassandra studied his face for a moment then smiled. "Was it any good?"
"No." Was his sullen reply.
She couldn't help but laugh. "I know, me too. I think I've killed a hundred trees in the past two days, and come up with nothing at all." Walking over to the cliff she sat down beside him and grinned. "Perhaps we should just steal some poem by Byron and say it's ours."
"Or Shakespeare."
Cassandra was reminded then about her earlier conversation. "Jareth, what do you think of Charity?"
He looked at her sideways. "What?"
"I mean, how do you feel about her?"
"She's spoiled rotten, but a good girl at heart." He shrugged. "I don't know, I've known her since she was born, and she's always been a little terror."
Cassandra couldn't help herself. "So you don't, I mean, you're not in…"
"In love with her? Is that what you think?" He glanced at her carefully. "No, I love her as I would a sister."
"Oh." She fell silent.
Jareth turned to look at her. Why was Cassandra acting so strange? Then it dawned on him. She must have hoped he would be in love with Charity so Stephan would be free.
He watched her eyes, they always told him the truth. But at this moment they were unreadable, dark, a murky blue which seemed to glaze over with the threat of tears.
"Cassandra." He spoke softly and placed a hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes nearly glistened with tears. He couldn't bear to see her cry.
That was what he told himself at least as he leaned in and kissed her gently. He was only comforting her, that was all. Her lips, however, soft and innocent, caused him to forget all thoughts of comfort and pull her to him, deepening the kiss and reacting with surprise as she kissed him back with a hesitant passion.
Cassandra couldn't believe what was happening. She was falling, she knew that, falling into a void she never wanted to return from. His lips sent a fire through her body, and a low moan escaped from her throat. This was what she wanted; this was what she had always wanted.
This was how they were meant to be.
She held onto him tighter with one arm as she ran her other hand through his hair. "Jareth," she whispered.
He heard her whisper his name, and it was as if she had struck him. What was he doing, taking advantage of her like this? Clearly she was in love with his brother, and here he was, seducing the poor girl. He pulled back, a shocked look on his face. Of all the terrible things he had done in his life, he had never taken advantage of a woman. Disgust for himself grew within.
Cassandra saw the disgust in his eyes and nearly cried out. She watched silently as he stood up and walked away, leaving the pad of paper lying on the ground. What had she done? He must surely hate her now. She picked up the paper and glanced at the first page.
Oh God, what had she done?
There, written on the paper, was the name "Charity."
* * * * *
The next morning Cassandra sat by the window and sighed again. Nothing seemed to make sense. The way she had felt when she was kissing Jareth was like nothing else. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun it was over. It was over, and he hated her.
"What did I do?" She murmured softly. "What did I do?"
She saw a movement down below and squinted to see. Her heart beat faster. It was Jareth. He was there, standing in the rose garden, gazing at the bushes, walking around them as if lost. Suddenly he stopped and gazed at a single bush, not moving at all.
Perhaps…
Cassandra jumped up and ran out of her suite, knocking goblins over left and right. Breathless, she reached the bottom of the stairs and the garden. He still stood there.
"Jareth."
He turned. The look in his eyes froze her in place.
"Cassandra."
Somehow she found her voice. "Jareth, I…"
"I am sorry Cassandra for what happened yesterday. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I never meant to take advantage of you. It will never happen again, I assure you."
But I want it to happen again! She wanted to scream. Now! I want you to kiss me like you did on the cliffs; I want you to keep on kissing me forever, to never stop. I love you Jareth, damn you, I love you.
But all she said was "I understand." And with a nod, he walked away.
Cassandra watched him retreat with sad eyes and shook her head. Truly, he must hate her. With a deep sigh she walked over to where he had stood. Her eyes widened.
There, in the middle of February, a single rose had bloomed.
Hesitant, she reached out and touched the deep red petals. She could almost swear she had felt warmth in the petals.
"Well," she muttered to herself, "It's been a mild winter, and there is some grass growing already, why not a rose?"
It seemed to agree with her as a wind blew past, and it bobbed its head up and down.
"Perhaps you can convince your friends to grow as well," she whispered. Turning, she headed back to her house, a conversation from earlier etched in her mind.
"They only need love to grow…"
"Yes," Cassandra muttered, "but love for whom?"
* * * * *
