Persephone 38

By Candlelight

They sat in dusky silence for a long time before she finally turned to face him.

Unshed tears and dust coated the corners of her eyes. Her lids stuck lightly when she blinked. Sarah took in his orange silhouette and pursed her lips, grateful at least for the light. "I thought you'd gone."

"Not without saying goodbye."

"Of course not," she whispered, pushing a dank strand of dark hair out of her face. "You'd never be so impolite."

"Besides, my time is yours," he muttered, uncrossing, stretching, and recrossing his legs, "I have no where else to be. My castle is cold and lonely."

"'That's why you acquired a companion?'" she quoted.

Jareth shrugged; his shoulder plates creaked. "Perhaps I will accept small chat if you refuse to bargain with me?"

"Small chat?" Sarah repeated. "Now? In this oubliette? With you?"

"Why not?" he spread his hands wide. Their shadows crisscrossed over the cavern wall like the bars of a cage. A crystal shuddered to life in his palm, gently cast aglow. "We neither of us have anything better to do, and maybe a little witty repartee will convince you to leave this terrible place."

She sniffed, half irritated by him and half by the dust tickling her nose. "I don't think I have anything you want that I'm willing to give, so I'd rather steer clear of the so-called bargaining," she paused, "I thought I made that clear."

"We could have a stab at genuine conversation Sarah," he queried dryly, deliberately leaving out an affectionate sobriquet. The orb spun through his fingers and across his knuckles.

She stayed silent, squinting at him across the cavern.

"Your filly is growing well," the king started docilely, attempting to placate her. He hated the nervous look hovering in the whites of her eyes. "She is the perfect picture of her mother, but she already has her father's habit of jumping paddock gates."

"What does she do once she's out?" Sarah asked, closing her eyes to imagine young Aspera soaring over the barrier. In her mind, the filly hopped and fluttered on strong, but occasionally still shaky, legs. The little horse already showed a distinct aptitude for mischief.

Pressing his thin lips together, Jareth smiled. "She prefers to eat the grass outside the fence and torment the other horses with her freedom…like you."

Sarah swallowed. "And Nightengale?"

"The mare…" he caught the unconscious narrowing of his love's eyes and cleared his throat, forcing humor into his tone. "Nightengale is a natural mother, as you know. She misses your attention, but not your diligent work on her right-lead canter."

"Even the best horses have a lazy streak," Sarah admitted. Thinking about her horse made her thighs ache. She missed her daily rides regardless of her company, but preferred freedom from her company's pressured kisses to riding. Nevertheless, her eyes watered at the corners. "Don't think I don't know you're trying to convince me to come back."

He raised one elegant eyebrow, eternally royal even in the filth. "Then you pick a subject."

"It's pointless anyway."

"And what if I simply missed our tête-à-têtes my dear?"

Rolling her eyes, Sarah searched her memory for loose ends and potential leads. "Well…how was your dinner party?"

The king dipped his head, pausing just a moment to long before answering. "You were missed," he said, peering out from under his tussled bangs. The crystal cast a golden glow on his face. She imaged that expression melting his mother's heart as a child, the one that softened his face, even in the hole's harsh shadows, though Sarah couldn't tell if he knew how effective it was. In return, his uneven eyes studied her face. "I missed you."

She swallowed, then nodded without apologizing. "What about the alliances? Are they coming along?"

"I admit that I have been more focused on finding you than cementing small allegiances." Jareth decided to level with her, hoping perhaps to ease her constant complaints. The crystal vanished. "I have a better idea who to talk to now. The younger nobles I told you about, Conrad de Silvane and the others, they are both angry and imprudent."

Her brows knitted together. "That doesn't seem like a good combination…"

He chuckled, delighted by her concern and her expression. "No…but for the moment, their malleable, youthful enthusiasm is my best asset."

"What about your mother?"

Jareth nodded. "A very brittle political talent… who cannot move openly against her son."

"I see," Sarah replied, intrigued by the back-stage games despite herself. She would have loved to play secretary or spy to the whole affair, but the active role he had once begun to ask of her felt far too dangerous for such a novice. "But she's helping you?"

The king studied her face, searching for her motivation. "She keeps Adele's confidence and extracts information from everyone she meets. No one would dare deceive the dowager queen."

"Not even you?" she scoffed, then coughed when she inhaled dust. "Or your brother?"

He conjured another flask, full of the clearest spring water, dispersing the molecules in the kitchen before reconfiguring them in the orange-cast oubliette, and handed it to the sputtering girl. "Of course we do. We know how much power our mother commands, in influence, if not formal law." He noticed that she flinched less when he handed her the drink, but still pulled back to his corner.

Sarah uncapped the flask and sipped slowly. Water had never tasted so good. "So you have a plan?" she managed between swallows.

Jareth grinned, subconsciously revealing his pointed canines. "Yes darling girl. But until you're home safe, tucked away in my castle, I am loathe to share it with you."

"You never would anyway." Her eyes clouded. Detecting the dangerous glint in his voice and eyes, she gulped down the last of the water. "And I'm not going back. I told you that."

"Surely I cannot grant your request for my confidence while you are running around posing a risk to security, even if I wish to turn over a new leaf?" He plucked one of the low-burning candles from the wall, casually extinguishing it with his fingers. The shadows in the hole grew taller and more menacing.

To Sarah, he seemed nervous, though she never set much stock by her ability to read his clandestine shreds of emotion. "Do the Labyrinth's nearest geographical neighbors share your sentiments?" she asked cautiously.

His feral grin stretched. "No."

"Well, don't worry. I won't rat you out." She tilted her head to the side. "And I don't know anything anyway."

"Torturers do not tend to extend sympathy for ignorance or naiveté Sarah."

Suddenly, her mouth went dry again. "You said you can't just pull me out of the Labyrinth."

Jareth saw the gears working in her mind, and realized how quickly her gentle questions had led him astray. He told himself he'd never been truthful with her because of the way she captivated him. She was so utterly disarming—sweet and genuine even when conniving or fearful. Those eyes sucked at his soul. He kept the answer simple, a curt: "No."

"Is there a way out of this oubliette?" she queried.

"And why should I tell you?"

"Because you want to win my trust?"

"Indeed. There is always a way, though I seriously doubt you will find it."

"I will."

They stared hard at each other. Neither blinked.

"Do you remember when you promised me you would not run away?" he asked, spinning a new crystal lackadaisically across his fingers.

Sarah looked at her reflection in the swirling glass. "I remember." That day still stung in her memory.

"You cannot escape my Labyrinth. The gates will not release you," fierce fire burned brighter in his uneven eyes, "because I will not release you."

Slowly, her expression shifted to mirror his. The look in his eyes told her gut that he spoke the truth even though she didn't want to believe him. Sarah remembered her bonded promise and the magic that fluttered around her fingers to seal it. She nodded, but didn't say anything.

"I do not intend to stand in your way," Jareth conceded, "because I also know what will inevitably come to pass."

"I'll be fine."

"Really?" His eyes narrowed to serpentine slits even though he spoke lazily. "You have goaded me for exaggerating the dangers of the Labyrinth time and time again, yet I have rescued you twice. You would have been finished twice in less than one month, and you, my dear, have been painfully lucky."

"I still don't believe you. And I'd rather take some bumps and bruises," Sarah hesitated, searching for words, "than what you do to me."

"I cannot keep this up Sarah. I cannot keep following you to protect and provide."

"Fine. Don't." She so wanted to retort and tell him to send her home. But she knew how fruitless that temper tantrum would be. He would never let her go. The fiery exuberance slipped from her visage.

He saw the sorrow in her eyes and imagined how he'd feel if he lost her. The hollow in his chest ached as he watched her head drop. He longed to tip her chin up to his face, but didn't budge, didn't dare to touch her. "Eventually, even if you escape this place," he murmured, "you will grow tired of running."

"No…" Sarah bit her lip, refusing to show him any more weakness. He'd already seen her at her weakest and her worst. After two hard swallows, she found her voice. "Not when you're the alternative."

"I understand," he grated, "but…"

"No," she interrupted. "You don't."

To spite her expectations, Jareth didn't argue. He cleared his throat slowly, letting the sound echo in the silence. Her faint sigh barely reflected from the rock.

He snuffed out another candle before it could burn and die.

Sarah licked her lips. "It's getting dark again."

"Girl, it's an oubliette, what do you expect?"

"I'm trying not to expect anything anymore," she challenged.

Jareth smelled her fear, rising lightly with her cool sweat. "They will all burn out when I go," he murmured. Behind him, another candle whisked out of existence.

Sarah pulled her arms around herself. The cold began to descend on her. Goosepimples raced down her limbs. "Please don't…please leave the light."

"All things come to an end Sarah-mine," he said sadly. "And I will return."

"I hate this place," she shuddered.

"You have another choice," he stated calmly, hiding his own anxiety behind centuries of villainous diplomacy. Jareth stood and cast the slow spell.

"So do you." The scoff faded to a stammer as her courage waned. "No…I'm going to find a way out of here."

He didn't deny her long-shot ability, but doubted her chances of success. No one had ever escaped one of his oubliettes, but then, precious few had solved his Labyrinth. "Are you afraid of the dark?" he asked, determined to sound concerned rather than menacing.

"Yes…yes, I never was before but…" His image was fading. She could only see the highlights of his hair and high, stark, cheekbones.

"Sarah, you must return with me or…"

"Or?" she interrupted.

"Or you must face that fear."

With a twinge of regret around his mouth, he formed a crystal and vanished. The glitter falling from his transformation coated the flickering candles. One sputtered out in a flash of silver. The others smoldered low on their wicks. Her breathing accelerated against her will as the light faded. Shadows danced across the craggy walls. They looked like angular monsters descending on her. The little light quivered, and shivered, and flickered out. Blackness forced its way in.

Sarah pressed her back into the wall and couldn't stop the terrified shrieks from escaping her mouth. Suspended in the ether of transition, he couldn't stop listening.

x x x x

The perpetual darkness seemed to permeate her eyelids, further blurring the distinction between waking hours and nightmares. In the oubliette, she couldn't tell the difference. The nights, for they must have been nights, he came to her and tormented both.

He came from behind, his hands snaking around her waist. They snaked up her front, unhinging her buttons with long-fingered tenderness. Her skin flushed in trepidation and anticipation as he pulled the shirt open, down over her white shoulders, creamy and lush in the inky gloom. His fingertips skimmed over her small breasts. Her nipples grew pert in the chill. She shivered as he pulled her body back against his, trailing his hands down beneath her shirt. She felt her ribs separating beneath the leather and claw-like nails. The sigh that tumbled from her mouth was not her own. He teased her, suckling the lobe of her ear. Her heart thudded, pumping panicked blood to every newly enflamed nerve.

She shrieked as his lips descended on her neck, calling his name in her terror. At the sound, he groaned in sardonic pleasure. His teeth drew crimson lines on her flushed skin. She gasped, hissing in shock and heady surprise. The wet of his mouth followed, soothing the harsh abrasions on her skin, delicate despite the dirt. The gesture broadcast his protection, his affection, but the fluttering below her chest wasn't her heart. She moaned anyway, disgusted with herself and the sound.

His thumbs stroked lower, hard over the points of her hip bones. They greedily pierced the fleshy indentation before returning to the skeletal arch. Fingerprints lingered in the sweat on her skin as he reached around to the softness of her behind. He forced her legs wide. The invading air felt forbidden and painful, but merely anticipatory. She winced as he jerked her nearer, ever nearer, though there was no space between them. However violently she pinched her eyes shut, the slick tears escaped. She had never fully imagined… And he was turning her around to face him, his fingers sinking lower, ready to take her and break her.

Sarah…her name, dimly in the thick smog in her mind.

Sarah, he drawled, lazy in his advantage.

Sarah! his voice, fierce and sharp in her mind.

She pushed him away, but a hand gripped her shoulder, hard.

Her eyes snapped open, immediately catching her reflection in another pair of uneven ones. His hand slid down her arm. For a moment, Sarah couldn't feel him clutching her bicep, because the penetrating touch of her dream refused to fade.

"It was a dream," he pleaded, still feeling the echo of the screams that had called him to the oubliette. The piercing wails still pounded in his ears. Still, the dream weaver hadn't needed to hear her scream or see her writhe to know what she saw. "Just a dream," he said again. "I would never. Not to you. Never. Just a dream." Breaking his private oath not to touch her, he wiped her tears from her eyes, personal promises to coquettish trees be damned.

"But you…you…" she choked. Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her own mouth.

"Never," he affirmed. Without thinking, he crushed her to him. Wet, matted eyelashes flickered against his cheek. Hearing her startled, strangled squeak, he released her again, cursing himself and gesturing a little too wildly at the meal he'd brought, another peace offering, now twinkling in fresh candlelight.

Her eyes widened. "I'm awake…" she breathed. "Oh god."

Sarah looked down at herself, separating reality and her subconscious in her mind. Though torn and filthy, her clothes and her body remained as she'd left them. No one had harmed her. He hadn't touched her, save for his desperate hold on her arm, shaking her from that horrible sleep. She squelched the sobbing and took deep breaths, filling her lungs with dust and the salty moisture of half-shed tears. The process took far longer than she intended.

Finally, Sarah raised her eyes to the man in his corner of the oubliette. She knew he hadn't touched her, not at all, not since the vampiric kiss that had driven her to run. But that memory was enough. And though he seemed almost changed, her gut could never trust him. The king leaned against the wall, strangely human in the glittering orange light. His hair fell into his eyes, boyish, impish, guilty, and savage, all at once. Sarah tried to swallow, but couldn't push past the stiff lump in her throat. Try as she might, she could not.