Jareth and Angeletta are finally coming to terms! Wow! We're up to almost 100 reviews! I can't believe it! Thank you all so very much! To those of you who requested that I write a Jareth/Sarah, I have been working on an idea and will hopefully soon begin to write it. Have a terrific upcoming week!
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Balm of Forgiveness
A gentle breeze brushed softly across Angeletta's forehead, stroking strands of silky brown hair away from her eyes. The soothing sound of waves drifting in and out of shore intertwined with the whispers of the breeze and the merriment of a wind chime. A scent, the smell of ocean spray, clean air, and something else, beautiful and ancient yet strangely familiar, roused Angeletta slowly out of her sleep.
She clung to her pillows, pleading with her dream to stay just a few minutes longer. It had been such a wonderful dream. In it she had been held comfortably in someone's strong arms, kept safe from all danger, and she didn't want her warm feelings the dream produced to be shattered.
Angeletta sighed and turned over, blankets wrapping cozily around her. They felt so snug and warm, and a dim thought suddenly came to her mind.
"I'm in a bed. What am I doing here? Wait! I was in the middle of a battle! Where's Sarah? What happened?"
Her eyes opened wide and she sat up hastily, blankets and pillows falling from her large bed. Fear gripped her heart, and all sorts of terrifying thoughts filled her mind as she stood up. Only when she caught sight of the beautiful scene before her did her breathing soften and her heart beat slow down.
The ocean was stretched out in front of her, visible through sheer drapes. Sunlight beamed down on the great blue, causing rainbows to shine from the sea foam. It spoke of nothing but peace, and joy flooded through Angeletta as she remembered how she had become unconscious and that Jareth had, for once, kept his promise.
She turned away from the exquisite sight and gazed happily at the room she had been to many times. Her large bed, covered in teal, blue and purple silk, was a bit of a mess, but the rest of the room was tidy. There was a white dresser with a large mirror not far from the bed, and on it stood a parchment and a vase of flowers that Angeletta had thought she would never see again.
She went to the vase and delicately touched the multi-colored roses that filled it. They were not the exotic roses of the Fae lands, for they were much simpler yet far more beautiful to Angeletta. They were roses from the Aboveground, handpicked and sparking with the morning dew.
With tears of gratitude, Angeletta buried her face in the velvety petals, inhaling their sweet scent deeply. She picked up the parchment and read it, never taking her nose away from the precious flowers.
"My Darling Child,
His majesty, the King of the Underground, made true his promise. You have four nights until Christmas Eve, in which you will be required to return to the Fae palace. Until then, rest and recover. Somehow his majesty knew that the house by the sea was your favorite place, and so here you are.
Do not fear for Lady Sarah. She had returned to the Aboveground until Christmas Eve. She too needs to recover, and she mentioned something about Christmas presents. I took the liberty of sending your canvas and paints to you from the goblin castle.
His majesty personally saw to Lord Ravis' end. That wicked Fae and his close followers were found in Frailine. They will never harm anyone again. According to the king, Frailine is melting and shall, over time, become a beautiful place.
I leave you to your solititude, my precious daughter. I love you.
Your Father."
"He did become king," Angeletta whispered as she put the letter down.
The king was just now waking up due to an incessant knocking on his chamber door. His muscles sighed as he sat up in bed and then reluctantly pushed the covers away and got up. He didn't waste time to pull a shirt on, for he was irritated and determined that whomever was knocking on his door better have a good reason for it or the Bog of Stench would soon be overflowing.
Jareth yawned and then opened his door. To his terror, he found ten Fae women lounging in the adjoining corridor. As soon as they saw him, they rushed at him like a herd of wildebeest. He jumped back into his room and slammed the door shut. He flung his back against the door, hoping to hold the frenzied women out.
"Didymus!" He roared and nearly jumped when a voice squeaked from near his feet.
"Aye, Sire?'
"What are those women doing? Remove them from this palace immediately!"
"Aye sir, but first a question?" Sir Didymus quipped from the floor. "After all, twas I who originally knocked. I rushed in here to save myself."
"What?" Jareth scowled.
"The people wish to repair the throne room. They would like your orders for how it is to be done. Would you come?"
Jareth sighed and breeches, a poet shirt, a jacket, boots, and gloves instantly replaced his immodest apparel. He didn't say a word as he stepped out into the corridor and was swallowed up by the women. This was what he had been born for, what he had fought to keep. What he wanted as a person, as a man, didn't matter in the least. He was the king. He had always been trapped in the domain of royalty and always would be.
Three long, boring days passed for the Fae King. Each day wasn't much different than the previous one. Goblins, Fae, and numerous amounts of creatures sought Jareth for advice and judgment. Women thronged to him, always wanting his crown or an heir but never fully caring about his wants or needs. Jareth's only delight during the day was the children, for while he never showed it, he enjoyed their nonsense talk, felt needed when they flung their little arms around him or hid in his cape. He marveled at their innocence, their pure joy, and their lack of fear.
They reminded him of another innocent creature, one whom he personally had marred, one who could somehow see past his walls of stone and could look into his very soul.
There were feelings involved with that angelic creature that Jareth could not understand. They were powerful, forceful, making him think of her frequently and admire her delicate features. Shivers rippled through him when he recalled her hand over his heart, her touch against his face. Every night he was flung to his knees by the memory of her power rushing through him, binding them together with an unseen, unbreakable force.
By the afternoon of the third day he knew something had to be done. He wasn't worthy to feel the way he did when he thought of her. He had hurt her so many times, and he, the ever-prideful king, had never truly apologized. He felt, in the recesses of his heart, that perhaps she, once his greatest enemy, was the only person who understood him and who might somehow care for him. He resolved that he would go to her as soon as possible to see if the new and peculiar feelings he felt for her were false or if they truly meant something. Perhaps he was only imagining that she cared, only imagining that there was more between them than disdain.
The late afternoon of that same day found Angeletta standing outside on a large tile porch, facing the ocean. Before her was her canvas, a variety of colors painted delicately on its once-white face. She moved skillfully, carefully, with each stroke of her paintbrush. She felt extremely relaxed and comfortable this afternoon, and wore a white poet's shirt and silky teal skirt. Her long hair, in curls from the ocean's constant caresses, was pulled back loosely in a ribbon, reflecting her mood.
The three days of rest had done her a great deal of good. The coloring was back in her face, and she felt healthy and strong. Nothing could bother her at all, she thought as she added a bit more color to her picture.
A faint sound, like several pieces of a gentle melody, floated on the air, and she looked up from her painting to see a small crystal orb drifting towards her on a breeze. Her sea-green eyes darkened momentarily as she put her paintbrush down and lifted up a hand to catch the crystal. The instant it touched her fingers, it turned into a letter, elaborately written in gold ink.
"His majesty, King Jareth of the Underground, requests your attendance at the Christmas Eve celebration to be held tomorrow night at 5:00. You are asked to arrive at noon to assist with preparations."
"And to take my new place as a slave forever to his majesty," Angeletta sighed, putting the paper down on a small table.
She didn't notice the tall figure watching her from the shadows of the small house, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when Jareth suddenly appeared, standing directly next to her.
"You!" She gasped, stepping away. "What are you doing here? You promised me that I would have time alone until tomorrow."
"I couldn't help but admire your painting, though it is lacking one last touch," Jareth said easily, stroking his chin with one of his hands and gazing at the painting.
"And you would know about painting?" Angeletta defended, instantly afraid that her peaceful day was shattered.
"Sarah is extremely lifelike, as are you. The owl's feathers in the background are perfectly painted to show motion and grace. But your eyes, my darling Angeletta, are lacking color," Jareth said with a wave of his hand.
"I cannot decide how to mix the paints properly to make my eye color," Angeletta said timidly, humbled.
"That is because there aren't any paints in the whole of the Underground that could make such a shade," Jareth said. "You may need a bit of assistance."
He waved his hand smoothly over the plate of paints that stood next to the canvas, and a new color appeared beneath his moving hand. Angeletta stepped over to it and looked at it carefully. She was tempted to ask him again how he knew anything about paints, but she wisely refrained from speaking and dipped her paintbrush delicately in the color. Jareth was the king and the last thing one should do to a king is question him.
She timidly brought the paintbrush to her eyes on the canvas and fearfully added the color. She was amazed at the perfect quality of the paint, was thrilled by how accurate her eyes looked. She wouldn't admit it to Jareth, however, for he was invading her tranquility and would no doubt, in a matter of seconds, say something purposefully to rile her up.
"Thank you," she said curtly, turning to look at him. "Now what are you doing here? You promised to give me time alone."
"I felt it necessary to speak with you about something that has been weighing heavily on my mind for the past few days," Jareth said calmly, his eyes gazing over her body, admiring how beautiful she looked even in such simple garb.
"Well, what is it?" Angeletta asked, waving her hands in exasperation.
Something of a deep red hue on Angeletta's right arm caught Jareth's attention, and before Angeletta had a chance to object, he reached out and took her right hand, pulling her arm towards him.
"Jareth…" she stammered as he pulled back her sleeve, his cool leather gloves brushing across her skin.
A great red mark covered the whole underside of her arm, marring her perfect skin. Jareth looked up into her face, watching as she bit her lip uncomfortably, her eyes wide with uncertainty.
"You did this?" Jareth asked, his voice soft.
Angeletta wasn't sure what to make of his tone, for most of the time when he spoke softly; it meant grave danger to whomever he was speaking to.
"Yes," she said hastily, trying to pull her arm away from him. "Your majesty, let me go!"
"How did you do this?" Jareth asked, tightening his hold.
"I was cooking over a fire," Angeletta spoke quickly. "Somehow my power made the fire too strong and it licked up and burnt my arm. I don't know how I did it. I've had several such misfortunes over the past few days. Even my paints have been ornery with me."
"I will teach you how to control your strength," Jareth said, removing one of his gloves with his teeth and then putting it to the side. "I was afraid this would happen."
He put his uncovered hand on Angeletta's skin and gently began to stroke her burn. His power flowed through her blood, leaving her breathless. She never knew his hands were so strong and so smooth. The emotions that shook through her surprised and dismayed her. She found that she liked his touch, and to her utmost displeasure, caught herself leaning into his hand.
His eyes met hers, searching hers not in an intimidating way, but in a way that made her question what his true intentions were. Why was he here anyway? What did he want?
"I want more than teaching, Jareth," Angeletta choked, trying to look away from his eyes but helpless to do so. "I want my freedom."
"That is why I am here. I wish to discuss your freedom with you," Jareth nodded and then pulled his fingers away from her healed skin.
"Oh no. There must be some more fine print that was overlooked," Angeletta sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. "Would you mind if we walked on the beach while you tell me what you found? I would be better prepared for more disappointment and might just be able to listen to you without going into hysterics."
"Very well," Jareth nodded and offered her his arm.
"It's that bad?" she sighed.
Jareth didn't answer but took her hand in his and looped it through his arm.
Angeletta's emotions were in turmoil as he led her off the patio to the warm sand. He must have had terrible news else he wouldn't be treating her so kindly. She was tempted to pull her arm away from his, to remind him of their spiteful relationship, but the expression on his face prevented her from taking action. There was also persistent warmth, not from the sun or the sand beneath her bare feet, but radiating from her blood, from inside of her, which stopped her.
Why oh why did he have to be so handsome and charming on this particular day? Any other day she could have easily caused him discomfort or made him angry, but today she didn't even want to try. Today he looked so gentle and human. He wasn't dressed in his usual uptight garb but wore simply an open poet's shirt and black breeches. His medallion shone brightly on his chest, and his hair, sparkling gold and radiant with light, rustled gently in the breeze.
They walked in silence, both deep in thought, until their feet touched the cool water.
"Sire," Angeletta spoke quietly, releasing his arm and catching her hair ribbon as it unraveled from her hair. "Why have you come? What troubles you?"
"I have come with a confession. I haven't been entirely truthful with you about when you first came to the Labyrinth and it has been troubling me," Jareth said, turning to face her.
"Please no more," Angeletta choked. "I have forgiven you. No more, your majesty."
"No!" he said firmly. "Listen. The truth must be told."
"What is to be told? I am your slave forever. I can never return home. Enough has been said," Angeletta pleaded, tears in her eyes.
"Do not forget that I am king. What I will say I will say," Jareth growled, grabbing her forearms. "I want you to know the truth. The day you failed to defeat the Labyrinth I had no knowledge of what Peter would do to you. That's not the true reason I kept you Underground. Ravis knew you were the perfect person to force into my world, for he knew I wouldn't be able to let you go. While he knew of your independent spirit and your love for your home, I didn't. I saw only your beauty." His voice softened as his uncovered hand moved to Angeletta's cheek to brush away a tear. "You were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. There were beautiful Fae women, but their beauty was false. Yours radiated from within, from a pure heart. I was young and arrogant, heartless and cruel. It did not matter to me that you were homesick or in love. I was wrong; therefore, I now give you your freedom. You will not remain my slave. I do not deserve to have you stay with me," Jareth said, running a strand of her hair through his fingers. "You cannot return Aboveground, but you are free to do as you please in the Underground. I beg of you, humbled and broken, to forgive me for my past injustices to you. Were it not for you, Ravis would have complete power over the Underground and I would be no more."
Angeletta could not speak. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and her heart ached as it had never ached before. She moved her quaking hands to her face, ashamed of her weeping. Her cleansing tears washed hundreds of years of bitterness and anger away. Centuries of pain dissolved by the humility of her enemy.
She nodded slowly, unable to look into his face.
"I forgive you, Sire," she whispered hoarsely. "I've…wronged you also. Please forgive me…my king."
"Just Jareth," Jareth said, putting a hand under her chin and raising her face to look into his. "There is so little wrong you have done, but I forgive you."
"I cannot fully believe that you are giving me my freedom," Angeletta whispered, her eyes searching his.
"I understand. Let me have your hand," Jareth said.
Timidly, Angeletta placed her hand in his gloved one. His fingers closed over hers, soft leather against warm flesh. The leather feeling immediately turned into a painful pricking sensation, and Angeletta gasped and pulled her hand away from his. She looked at her fingers to see three bloody scratches on them. She then looked up with confusion at Jareth and found, to her terror, that he was twirling a gold-tipped Traitorous in his hand.
"Angeletta, I wish for you to kiss me," he spoke, looking up from the flower into her eyes.
"I thought you gave me my freedom!" She panicked as an invisible force pushed her towards him.
"I am proving my sincerity," Jareth said softly as she stopped in front of him, using all of her strength to resist the spell of the Traitorous.
"How is this proving it?" She asked through clenched teeth, fighting the persistent pushing sensation.
She lasted for less than a minute before she was flung forward. She gasped as she collided against Jareth, her arms moving of their own accord to wrap around his neck, her fingers brushing through his silken hair. She breathed heavily as her hands moved to the back of his head and pulled his face towards hers, noses only a little over an inch apart.
Sea green eyes gazed into brown and blue as Angeletta continued to fight. Jareth waited until her nose was half an inch away from his before he spoke one simple word.
"Stop."
The spell was instantly broken and he took a step away from Angeletta. She gasped heavily, her eyes wide with fear. Jareth reached forward and took her wounded hand in his, causing her to yelp with surprise.
"I have proved my word to you," Jareth said, turning her hand over so he could inspect her scratches. "You are free of all my control."
"You didn't have to prove it so powerfully," Angeletta said in hushed tones as Jareth raised her fingers to his face as if to inspect the scratches more carefully.
"I wanted you to understand that my decision to free you did not come easily," he said, closing his eyes and pressing his lips gently against one of her cuts.
Poor Angeletta couldn't make heads or tails out of the Fae King's actions. She couldn't understand what had possessed him to suddenly treat her the way he did, and her mind was far too much of a large blur for her to put the pieces together. His lips brushed like a feather against her skin, the scratches healing beneath his touch. Not knowing what to do, Angeletta closed her eyes, struggling to maintain her composure and resist his motions. Her innermost being wanted her to run, to escape from the mind-boggling situation, to flee from the forceful truth that Jareth, her previous enemy, was displaying love in one of the only ways he knew how. But there was another side to Angeletta, the female side, which wanted to draw closer to the lonely Fae, wanted to feel his gentle touch against her mouth as well as her fingers.
She gulped back nervous anticipation as she realized that perhaps she herself was in love with the Goblin King and he was simply trying to mend the abysses of resentment between them. She was imagining things, getting her hopes up too high that he could actually love her, and yet she didn't want him to let go. She felt safe and warm beneath his touch, and a small whisper of a sigh escaped her lips.
Jareth moved his mouth away from her fingers, having accomplished his work, and let his lips hover over her hand for just a moment before he raised his head all the way. He studied her lovely face, eyes closed in what could only be comprehended as bliss, and wanted to touch her lips with his own. He contained himself, however, and released her hand.
Angeletta's eyes opened and she blushed when she saw Jareth gazing at her, one eyebrow arched with curiosity.
"Thank you for freeing me," was all that managed to come from Angeletta's lips.
"You are welcome," Jareth said firmly and then turned away. "I hope that you shall join us at the palace on Christmas Eve. Sarah very much wanted to decorate the castle with you," he said over his shoulder as he began to walk down the beach.
He turned away from her and a feeling of complete loneliness and sadness swept through him. He would return to his palace without any more adventure, back to his admiring subjects and the dull every day tasks. Perhaps, after Christmas was over, he could forget about the angel that stood behind him, her long hair blowing in the wind, her gorgeous eyes watching him walk away from her.
"Jareth," her voice came softly, only loud enough for him to hear it.
"Yes?" he asked, refusing to turn and look at her for fear that she would see the pain in his eyes.
"Did you…did you really mean that wish you just made?"
"My wish?" Jareth asked, turning back to look at her, arms folded across his chest. He would not look weak or lonely in front of her. He absolutely forbade it.
"Your wish for me to…to kiss you," Angeletta said timidly, eyes searching his carefully.
A slight frown formed on Jareth's face. Why was she asking him such an odd question? Had he not just given her the freedom she so desired? What more did she want? To see him break down in misery before her?
Angeletta saw the flicker of pain and longing in Jareth's face, and she walked up to him, her eyes never breaking contact with his. She didn't need him to tell her how he felt about the wish. She could see it clearly in his face. He was a lonely man, hard and cruel simply because he had to be, else he would lose all respect of his subjects. He had never known love from a woman and had never been truly admired.
"Jareth," Angeletta whispered, stopping only inches away from him. "You who must serve others and constantly grant their wishes," she said gently, "can you never have any of your own wishes satisfied?"
Jareth's breathing had quickened noticeably, for Angeletta could see his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes bore into hers, trying so hard to look defiant and like the proud king, but beneath the wall was what appeared to Angeletta to be a very small child, crying out for attention and love.
She gave herself no more time to think and stepped forward, nearly touching Jareth. She took his hand that still bore the glove and gently pulled the glove off. The hard look in his eyes did not leave as she let the glove drop to the sand and took both of his hands in hers.
Power surged through both of them, making them feel, for one fleeting second, as though they were one being instead of two.
"All you want is to be loved," Angeletta whispered, looking up into his face. "For once in your life, Jareth, you shall have what you greatly desire."
Her fingers slipped through his and carefully, she put her arms around him and pulled him close. She rested her head on his shirt as she held him tightly; tears of pity streaming down her fair cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing him to understand that she genuinely cared about him. He had been alone for so long, it was time he finally knew.
Warmth and love flowed through Jareth, causing him to tremble with content. Never had he felt such concern for him, never had he known anyone could possibly care for him. He wrapped his arms around Angeletta and just held her, burying his face in her long hair and shoulder. He knew she was crying for him, and a tear slid down his cheek and landed in her brunette locks. He had wanted this for so long, to be held, to be loved by her. He had wanted her approval and concern all along; he had just not realized it until now. He never wanted to let her go, never wanted her to leave him. She belonged with him, belonged at his side to love him and guide him.
"Angel," he whispered contentedly, his eyes closed in pleasure, "thank you."
She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears, and smiled.
"It is the least I can do, your majesty. I will attend your Christmas Eve celebration tomorrow night. I must return to my painting now. I shall see you on the morrow."
She pulled away from him and began to walk down the beach towards the house. He watched her, eyes dark with passion and longing. He would not let her walk out of his life. He would somehow find the words and strength to tell her how he truly felt and then he would keep her with him forever.
