Eleven

The following morning Sarah realized she had actually slept. Snuggled against his chest she had found solace and had relaxed into a dreamless sleep. As she changed into her practice outfit to spend time in the recreational room she thought how nice it would be to spend every night with him. After five years she was still just as convinced that Jareth the Goblin King was the man for her. What if the Labyrinth thought otherwise though? She looked out her window towards the sprawling maze with longing. If Jareth only desired what the Labyrinth allowed him to… Her thoughts trailed. With a sigh she left her chambers.

Days passed into weeks, and soon the party was only fourteen days away. Every afternoon Jareth met her in the recreational room building her strength and honing her skills. She was turning into a very sharp fae with exceptional reflexes. Every day that they worked so close together he found him self thinking less and less about the Wimberly's.

One afternoon as she made her way to practice she knew instinctually that he was waiting for her; she knew this before entering the door. His smell was evident to her. That was something she had noticed happening far more frequently- her sense of smell was far sharper and she would realize someone was near without even seeing them. Once inside the room she smiled at him. "What shall we practice today?" she asked him.

He nodded towards a table. "Throwing."

She looked and saw the familiar box that contained the throwing knives. "Ah," she let out with a hint of satisfaction.

"We have spent a lot of time on dealing with a close encounter or even hand to hand combat," continued Jareth lifting the lid. "But we must consider all possibilities. You may need to strike from a distance. Stand over there, across from the dummy."

The makeshift man hung by his arms waited patiently. Sarah wished she could put a face to it; to visualize her attacker. She felt Jareth step behind her.

"Say your lesson," he said. "Close your eyes, see where you would strike, and say the mantra."

She closed her eyes. "I do not strike with my hand. I strike with my eye." What did she see? Where would the blade go once it left her fingers? In her mind she saw the knife moving hilt over tip, spinning through the air. "I do not aim with my eye. I aim with my heart." The knife moved at a low angle. "And the heart judges it's self." In her head instead of hearing the crack of the wood, she heard a squish as flesh was severed and blood gushed forth.

Jareth reached down and touched her hand. Her body had turned rigid in concentration. Guiding her hand up and back he spoke, "Move with the knife. Let it leave your fingers as an extension. Pull it back and then let it fly." He extended her arm forward.

Keeping her eyes closed she saw the knife leaving her fingers again, moving at that same low angle. Where was the blade going? Then she felt Jareth put a hand to her hip and her concentration broke. She realized he was standing immediately behind her; her back tingled under the close proximity. He was telling her to widen her stance, and she had to mentally slap her self.

"Now," he paused moving away.

Sarah exhaled sharply.

"Now we try with a real knife." He held the weapon out to her. "Say your mantra and then throw."

As she prepared her first throw, Puck appeared saying that two letters had just arrived. Leaving Sarah to her concentration he took the letter from the goblin. As he broke the seal on one he observed Sarah's movements- she was very fluid and fast. Her arm pulled back and then sprang forward- the knife hurled through the air at a graceful arch. With a loud crack the blade struck the wood. Jareth's eyebrows drew up in surprise: she had struck the dummy between the legs. With a dark, amused chuckle he lowered his eyes to read the message. "Well?" she called to him.

He broke the second seal. "You were serious about that eunuch business."

She glanced from him to the dummy. "It's where my heart wanted it to go. A man who rapes doesn't deserve to ever procreate."

"Hhhm, and you shall have your chance to prove your dedication soon. Several guests will be arriving early."

"How soon?"

"Within three days there will be four other fae in this house, not to mention their servants."

"It's still roughly two weeks off, why come so early?" she asked.

He folded the letters. "One group will be the Wimberly's; the other…. Well, he's one of those special invites."

He watched as she began to pick at some imaginary thread on her sleeve. "How will you explain me to the Wimberly's?"

"Sarah, nothing is set in stone. I cannot help the fact that the Labyrinth refuses to talk to me."

Her green eyes met his. "Maybe it's silent because you're undecided." She left the room.

She passed Sir Didymus who was coming down the stairs. He paused asking where she was going. "Not now Didymus," she said briskly. He called after her once, but sensing her distress let her be. Looking down into the room he saw his king standing alone. "Sire," he said reaching him. "Is everything all right?"

Jareth shook his head slowly. "Didymus, do you like Leslie Wimberly?"

"Like?" repeated the fox. He cleared his throat. "You mean as in the same way I like Lady Sarah?"

"Yes."

"Well sire, er, they are two very different women…"

Jareth gave him a stern look. "Didymus!" he said sharply.

"Well I, um… no sire, I do not. You wanted to know," he hastened to add. He watched as he king flung up his hands and turned towards the stair case. He sat down on one of the steps. "What troubles thee sire?" he then asked.

"Women."

"Ah!"

"Between Leslie, Sarah, and even the confounded Labyrinth I am at my whit's end! If it would just talk to me," he then mumbled. "Then I would know what it wanted!"

Didymus regarded him for a moment. "Your highness, what is it that thou doest want?"

"It has never been about what I wanted."

"Really sire? Yes, I do beg to differ."

"How so?"

Didymus took a seat on a stair slightly higher. "You wanted Sarah to wish her brother away. You had been observing her for some time prior to that fateful night. You wanted her to challenge you because quite frankly sire, you like challenges. You wanted her to run the Labyrinth so you could watch her, surprise her, and enjoy her reactions. Everything you wanted to happen happened that night."

"But, I wanted her to accept my offer. That did not happen!"

"Ah, yes, your offer. My lady confided in me what happened those last precious moments in the Escher room. She refused your offer because you honestly did not want a broken Sarah."

Dumbfounded Jareth sat there on the stair case. "She would have had to have turned her back on everything she believed in."

"Exactly."

Putting his face in his hands Jareth groaned. "By the Blessed Moon, what a mess I've created. That peach ended up in her hand because I wanted it to; I tainted her!" He huffed lifting his face up. "But that doesn't explain why the Labyrinth is silent."

"Because sire, it is not about what the Labyrinth wants, it's about what thee wants! Do you want Leslie Wimberly- a woman of good birth, yet who quite honestly annoys your subjects, but will be eternally submissive to you? Or do you want Sarah Williams, a woman who respects your subjects and demands respect in return? There in will lie the answer to your problems."