The High King's Palace (Still day 232!)
Later, when asked to describe the High King's court, all Sarah could come up with was "Overwhelming." No mere words could begin to describe the opulence that surrounded her, the explosion of sights and sounds, smells and textures; even the ground felt…vibrant, she would occasionally say, when groping for the right words.
She never found them.
But that was in the future. As for now…all Sarah felt when they materialized in the court of the High King of the Fae was dizzy and slightly nauseated, as much by the sudden journey as by the sights and sounds and smells and sensations that surrounded them. Her first impression after the bodily discomfort faded was that of an endless wall of people; when she turned her eyes to the side, she realized the wall was a circle, that she and Jareth stood in the middle of a vast crowd of people, some of whom, she realized as her eyes had time to adjust, weren't exactly people in the strictest sense of the word. All of the them standing and staring, or so it felt, right at her. People and sort-of people talking and laughing and gesturing, but all eyes focused on the interior of the circle. On her and Jareth.
Before she could drink in any additional details there was a flash of light and Jareth parents appeared. They were dressed even more formally than they had been when they'd dined together…when was it? Had it really only been two months ago? Close enough to that, she decided as she attempted to join the rest of the crowd in bowing to their monarchs.
"Not us," Jareth hissed at her from the corner of his mouth, his hand tightening on Sarah's elbow and forcing her to remain upright.
She gulped and nodded, a quick, frantic nod she had to literally force herself to stop. Her head wanted to move in time with her heart rate, which was moving along at quite a gallop by now.
Jareth took a single step forward as the surrounding crowd fell silent and returned to the fully upright position. "My Lord, My Lady Mother, I present my bride to be and mother of my heir, Sarah Marie Williams of the Aboveground."
Oberon and Titania studied her as if they'd never met her before. "She is welcome in our Court and in our lands," Oberon proclaimed in tones as formal as those his son had used. "However, there is another claimant to be presented, here and now." He spoke her name, a long string of syllables that flowed like music to Sarah's ears, but ended with "Elizabeta."
It was her turn to make a flashy entrance, and she did so in a shower of hazy pinks and blues more suitable to a child's nursery than to the prickly bitch Sarah regarded her as.
All jealous, angry thoughts melted away in a wave of shock and disbelief as a small child stepped from beside Elizabeta and made a pretty little curtsy to the king and queen. "Greetings, Grandfather, Grandmother." Then she turned and offered a curtsy to Jareth. "Greetings, Papa. I'm pleased to meet you."
She was lovely, with features drawn so delicately that on a human child they would have portrayed gauntness rather than the elfin sweetness that this Fae child projected. Her hair was blonde, but had none of the spikiness of either her father or her grandfather; instead, it tumbled in soft curls down her neck and shoulders. Her eyes were mismatched, one blue and one the same emerald green as Oberon's. She wore a simple white frock that came to her knees, a pair of soft blue slippers and a matching sash around her waist.
Jareth stood as still and silent as a statue beside her; Sarah could feel the tension radiating off him as he studied the child. "Blood must call to blood," he said after a long moment.
"Agreed." Elizabeta stepped forward, one hand on the child's shoulder. Sarah studied her as intently as she'd examined the child, and two more different beings she'd be hard pressed to imagine. It wasn't that they didn't look alike; it was more a matter of innocence against a background of corruption. Elizabeta's gloating smile didn't help, either, and Sarah was sorely tempted to slap it off her face.
"Even if the child's blood calls to mine, even if I acknowledge her as my heir to the Fae throne, I wish this child, mine and Sarah's, to be named heir to the Goblin City, the Labyrinth, and to be given all rights and honors that come with the title of Goblin King. Or Queen."
"Agreed." That time it was Oberon who spoke, and Sarah bit her lip in order to keep from protesting that she hadn't even decided if she and her baby were going to stay here. It probably wouldn't matter anyway, if what Jareth said was true and eventually her child would make its way here from Aboveground. Blood calling to blood, Sarah guessed, which brought her back to the present moment. What specific meaning did that saying have right here and right now?
She was about to find out. With a gentle squeeze of her elbow, Jareth released his hold on Sarah and stepped forward to join Elizabeta, the child and his parents. A sixth person appeared, a grave older man with a wispy gray beard and an elaborate headdress that looked as if it might topple off his head at any minute (it never did). He held up a gnarled wooden staff with some kind of gold knob on the top and waited until Jareth, Elizabeta and the child stood directly in front of him while Oberon and Titania took their places on either side of the newcomer.
Sarah gasped when she realized he held a long, slender dagger, also apparently made of gold, in his other hand. He gestured, and the three standing in front of him each held out their left hands. The dagger sliced delicately but swiftly, once, twice, three times, the child remaining as stoically silent as her purported parents, and the blood was allowed to well up and pool in their palms.
When the judge or doctor or whatever he was seemed to feel he had enough of a sample, he stepped back and lowered the staff over each hand in turn. Sarah watched, wide eyed, as the blood rose upward to meet the staff's rounded head and pool in three separate spots, in defiance of gravity and physics and every other law of the physical universe Sarah's dazzled and dazed mind could think of.
The mage (doctor? geneticist?) studied the blood for a long pair of minutes. Then he held the bloody dagger over it, a couple of inches away…
…and as one, the three perfect circles ran together and formed a single, larger oval on the head of the staff.
There was a sharp intake of breath from the gathered crowd, and Sarah saw Jareth's back stiffen further before he visibly took hold of himself and turned away from the staff. "The blood has told," he announced in grim tones. "I acknowledge Viria, daughter of Elizabeta and myself, as my eldest child and heir to the throne of the Fae."
Sarah felt her head spinning; her vision shrank to a pinpoint, and with a faint sigh, she slipped to the floor in her very first faint.
A/N: Yes, I know. I'm evil. But at least I updated in less than a month, I get points for that, right? Right? (Smiles hopefully)