The Next Evening (Day 233)
"I feel like a perfect idiot," Sarah grumbled as she sat up in bed. She hadn't been allowed to leave the stupid thing ever since returning from the High King's court, except for potty breaks and only then if Jareth carried her. "It's not like I'm afraid that you won't want our baby just because you have a daughter already to be your main heir."
There. She'd said it, and she believed it and hoped Jareth believed it to. Actually, what she secretly hoped was that he cared enough to wonder or worry. Which, obviously, he did, since he'd scarcely left her side since she awoke from her faint to find herself in his arms at the doctor's house.
Amyra kept assuring them both that she was fine, it was merely the emotional strain coupled with the pregnancy that had caused the faint and nothing more sinister. Still, she agreed that a full day and night and perhaps another day of bed rest wouldn't do Sarah or the baby any harm, and that was the end of that. They'd returned to the castle and Sarah found herself in bed, wearing her most comfortable flannel nightgown, a cup of herbal tea by her elbow and a cluster of anxious goblins crowding the doorway.
"She's fine, you've all seen her, tell the rest of your group what you saw and let her rest!" Jareth had thundered. The goblins dispersed, unwillingly, Hoggle the last to go. Well, second to last; Ludo stuck his head back in the open doorway and waved disconsolately to Sarah before the heavy wooden door slammed itself shut on the motley hoard. "They were just worried about me," Sarah had protested, but Jareth had merely turned his glare on her and pointing at the pillows.
She obediently slumped down against the soft mound and was surprised to find herself almost immediately drifting off to sleep.
Much as wanted to blame Jareth for her sudden descent into slumberland when she awoke, she knew it was simply because she had, indeed, been exhausted and needed the rest.
Now, however, she'd gone from needing rest to restless. Restless and ready to finally talk about what had happened at court; ready or not, here she came.
"We can discuss what happened when you are fully recovered," came Jareth's predictable response. He was sitting over by the fireplace, back to her, apparently intent on the dancing flames.
Sarah drew her knees up to her chest—as closely as she could under the circumstances—and encircled them with her arms. "Jareth, I'm fine. Dr. Amyra just put me on bed rest to humor you, and you know it."
Jareth tilted his head to one side and seemed to be considering escaping via magic, then apparently thought better of the idea and instead walked over to sit facing Sarah. He took one of her hands in his and brought it to his lips. "I worry constantly about you and our baby," he admitted. "I imagine I would have reacted the same to Elizabeta's pregnancy had I been allowed to know of it." He lowered her hand to his lap. "Very well. We shall talk about it, if you desire."
"I'm actually kind of relieved," Sarah admitted. "I mean, if Viria is destined to be Queen of the Fae, then little OB won't have to worry about being anything but the Goblin King or Queen, and believe me, that's a weight off my shoulders."
Jareth had the most peculiar expression on his face. "Little 'Obie'?"
"Not like Obi Wan Kenobi, it's just short for Our Baby," Sarah explained, somewhat sheepishly. "I haven't got any names picked out, and even if I did, we still don't know if it's a boy or a girl, and it gets a little annoying always thinking he or she in my head, so I just started calling the baby OB."
She sounded ridiculous and she knew it, and waited defiantly for Jareth, whose lips were twitching suspiciously, to point it out to her. Miraculously he didn't so much as allow the twitches to become a grin; instead, he leaned forward and kissed her full on the lips. "If you say that's sweet I swear I'll smack you," she murmured when the kiss ended.
Jareth laughed then, throwing back his head and allowing howls of mirth to escape his throat. "Sarah," he gasped after a long moment, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, "you never fail to surprise me." He swooped in for a lingering kiss. "It is, however, very sweet."
He caught her upraised hand deftly in his, kissing each knuckle of her clenched fist until she reluctantly relaxed her fingers. "I never feared your reaction to Viria being my daughter and heir," Jareth continued when he felt the tension leave her body. "I worry more for your safety because of the child's mother."
"She did sort of strike me as the vindictive type," Sarah agreed, her voice as grave as his had become. "But she doesn't really care if our child inherits the Goblin Kingdom, does she?"
"Not in the least; tis my father's throne the woman covets, and unfortunately there is an obscure Fae ruling from centuries past that could win her that prize," Jareth replied. This was the part of the conversation he'd been so reluctant to confront, but he'd allowed Sarah a few days to rest and regain her strength; she'd need every ounce of it to face the forthcoming storm that was Elizabeta.
"What kind of ruling?" Sarah demanded, right on cue, a frown marring the perfect features of her face.
"I may be forced to take Elizabeta as my bride." The words came out as if forced by something other than Jareth's own vocal cords, and Sarah recoiled, exactly as he'd expected her to.
"Marry her? You might have to marry her?" Her hands sought her mid-section in an unconscious gesture of protection. "But what about me, what about us?"
"Is there even an 'us' to consider, Sarah?" Jareth asked softly. "Before I enter into battle over this matter—legal or otherwise—I need to know that the game is worth the candle."
"I won't be your mistress if you have to marry that bitch," Sarah responded promptly. "I don't care how I feel about you or you about me, I just can't see me being the other woman."
"Even if my wife were to allow such an arrangement? Even is she might prefer that I found my pleasure elsewhere?"
There it was, that relative Fae morality again. No, not even just Fae, Sarah had to admit; there were plenty of humans who lived with such "arrangements" back Aboveground. But the question was, could she, Sarah Marie Williams, live that way? Even it meant giving Jareth and eventually their child up?
"I see this isn't a question to be answered lightly," Jareth said when Sarah's silence stretched and grew and showed no signs of ending. "Nor should it be. I'll give you time to consider your answer, in case it needs to be answered. There's always the chance that Elizabeta won't wish to take advantage of the ruling, that she'll be content to know that one day her daughter will sit on the Fae throne and rule over us all."
Sarah made a sound somewhat like "pfft" in response to that comment. "As if," she muttered.
"Agreed," Jareth said with a wry smile. "However, you were wrong about one thing: she does not now nor did she ever want me back."
"Sure she does, just not for the reasons I thought she did," Sarah shot back. "At least now you know for a fact that she's just using you. I just feel sorry for the kid," she added, leaning back against the pillows. "Your daughter. She seems kind of sweet; hard to believe, considering who her parents are," she added with a ghost of a mischeivious grin.
"I intend to find out exactly what kind of a child she is, as soon as Elizabeta allows me more contact with Viria," Jareth replied. He frowned. "For now, she claims the child to be 'too overwhelmed' with all that's happened to be ready to face me in my kingdom, or indeed, to spend any time with me at all."
"That seems kind of suspicious," Sarah said. "Why would she do that if Viria's already been proven to be your daughter?" Hope rose in her heart. "Or is it possible to fool the test?"
Jareth started to shake his head "no," then stopped, a considering look on his face. "Normally I would think not, but Elizabeta's presentation of our daughter was timed rather suspiciously, and you're right; there's no reason to keep us apart now. Unless…" He sprang to his feet, took a few steps away from the bed, then turned back and kissed Sarah full on the lips. "Thank you, my dear. You've pointed me in the proper direction."
He vanished before Sarah could say another word, leaving her gaping in confusion and wondering where Jareth had gone in such a hurry. "Oh well, guess I'll find out when His High and Mightiness is good and ready to tell me," she muttered before plopping her head back against the pile of pillows. But the hope that had been rising was bubbling through her mind, tempered only by the guilty thought that if Elizabeta turned out to have been lying after all, then it was poor Viria who would suffer the consequences of her mother's perfidy.
A/N: Believe it or not, this story is getting near the end. The truth about Viria will be revealed: whether it's a truth already known or something new, you will have to wait and see! Enjoy!