A/N: This is a repost of an old fic. Written for the 2011 LiveJournal Fic Exchange for the following prompt: "Divorce can be costly. What happens when you try to divide a Labyrinth? Who gets the chickens?" Special thanks to cukid for beta services!
The humor here is a little darker, but it's not an unhappily-ever-after tale.
FOREVER IS FAR TOO LONG
"It's only forever," he'd told her, "not long at all."
Jareth scowled. Lies, lies, lies. Of course, he hadn't known when he was a love-struck fool just how long forever would be when he was married to a beautiful, headstrong (former) mortal. He'd never committed to more than a tryst before. What an imbecile he'd been.
He stared down at the thick sheaf of papers on his desk. Earlier, a goblin had knocked on the door to his private chambers, handed him an envelope and muttered, "You've been served." Jareth had stared after the creature, wondering what the devil he'd been served.
It turned out to be divorce papers. Sarah was suing for a divorce. A divorce! Goblin Kings did not get divorced. When their marriages turned south, they went Aboveground to seduce lovely mortals. They traded vicious barbs over dinner with their cold wives and found ways to generally make life miserable for said cold wives. That was how things were done in the Underground. But then, Sarah had never cared about rules. Why should she start now?
She had cited irreconcilable differences as the reason for their divorce—and infidelity. Jareth snorted. What was he supposed to do when she moved out of their apartments, refusing him anything but a baleful glare? Spend the rest of eternity as a virtual eunuch? Ridiculous! It was so very like her to want to punish him out of spite.
Jareth had reached his limit. If she wanted a battle, he would give it to her.
"Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus are coming with me."
"You can't have them."
"You only want them because I do! You don't even like them!"
"Of course! Why would I give you anything when you've done nothing but make life intolerable?"
"Oh, I've made life intolerable? Me?" Sarah snorted. "This coming from a man who parades his conquests in front of me like trophies. Yeah, I'm the one who's intolerable."
Gods, she was beautiful—even with that look of disgust contorting her regal features. Jareth was half-tempted to throw her down on the table and ravish her, attorneys be damned. How he wanted her!
How he hated her.
"I would have no need for conquests, as you call them, if my wife had been fulfilling her duties," he replied through gritted teeth. "You started this war, precious. Did you expect me to lie down and accept defeat?"
Sarah rolled her eyes. "No, but I didn't expect you to lie down with anything with two legs."
"My tastes are far more discriminating than you imply."
"Hardly." Sarah crossed her arms, leveling her gaze at him. "I've seen the trolls you've wined and dined."
Jareth raised a brow. "Jealous, Sarah?"
Sarah scoffed, but before she could unleash a scathing retort, her attorney cleared his throat.
"I think, maybe, we ought to start with who will be staying in the…house."
Jareth glared at the man sitting next to Sarah. The attorney—Bill or Bob what's-his-name—was clearly Mediterranean in descent with his olive complexion, thick dark hair, and pale green eyes. Jareth supposed the man was handsome—if one liked that sort of smarmy pirate thing. By the glances Sarah afforded him, Jareth could guess she liked it. Jareth imagined her in throes of passion with Bill-Bob, their bodies slick with sweat. A growl formed at the back of his throat. Despicable woman!
"Obviously me," Sarah said in response to her attorney's comment. "The house always goes to the woman, doesn't it? I mean, I'm not the one who cheated."
"You get nothing." Jareth rose, tired of this ruse. He had agreed to appear as a mortal couple in an attempt to work out their separation, but his patience had worn thin. "I have been the king of the goblins for eons, and you will not displace me from my throne!"
Sarah smirked. Jareth rued the day she learned that particular expression. It was damned annoying.
She turned to her counsel, gesturing toward Jareth. "Do you see how crazy he is? He thinks he's immortal—and a king, no less!"
"Really." Jareth's lip twitched in a sneer. "Enough of this game." With a wave of his hand, his mortal glamour dissipated. He took some satisfaction at the shock written on Bill-Barry's face. Jareth's "attorney" reverted back to his goblin form and scampered out of the room.
Jareth conjured a crystal, dancing it across his hands. "Listen very carefully, Sarah. You will not get the castle. You will not get the Labyrinth, nor will you get the goblins." He held up the orb. "And you don't get to have your little friends!"
The crystal fell to the floor, shattering into a cloud of glitter as Jareth disappeared. He heard Brad-Bob's parting exclamation of, "What the hell!?" and laughed in triumph.
Let Sarah explain that to the pitiful mortal. Likely she wouldn't be warming the brute's bed tonight—or ever. The thought gave Jareth his first genuine smile in weeks. It terrified the goblins who happened to be in the throne room when he appeared.
Jareth sat on his windowsill, balling each page of the divorce decree before setting it ablaze. He blew the burning parchment into the air, watching as it wafted away—much like the crystals he had sent those years ago to distract a young Sarah from defeating him. He sighed. If only he could convince her to eat a peach more often, their marriage would be free of all trouble.
He imagined, for a moment, a malleable Sarah—one who would cater to his every whim. The fantasy lasted mere seconds before it churned his gut. She would be no different than the pliable women who occasionally shared his bed—not as often as Sarah accused him of.
The door to his chambers crashed open. Jareth didn't bother to look up as Sarah stalked toward him.
"JARETH!" Her voice was shrill. On second thought, perhaps a mindless Sarah might not be a bad idea.
He glanced up at her with a bored expression. "Yes, precious?"
"You slimy bastard!"
Jareth crumpled another page and sent the blazing ball out of the window, ignoring his irate wife.
"Well! What do you have to say for yourself!?"
He winced at her shrieking. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware juvenile name-calling warranted a response."
"Oh, you, you, you…!" Her face grew crimson as she sputtered.
"So eloquent, Sarah." He smirked.
She glared at him. "Don't you dare insult me. I've had enough of your snarkiness!"
"If you wanted to avoid my scintillating conversation, you might not have burst into my chambers unannounced." Jareth turned his attention back to the divorce papers, smiling inwardly. He was goading her. He was goading the hell out of her.
"God, you are such an ass!" Sarah grabbed the stack of papers and threw them out of the window. "We had an agreement, and you just had to screw it up!"
Jareth was somewhat perturbed she'd taken away his distraction. He stood, towering over her. "As I recall, we made an agreement the day we wed!" He advanced on her. "What was it the mortal officiator said? 'In sickness and health, for richer or poorer—for better or worse.' You broke our agreement, not I."
"I had no idea you would consider fidelity a suggestion, you philandering jerk!" She jabbed her finger into his chest.
He snatched her hand. "And I had no idea you could easily abandon our intimacy—for years. Do you think I want to find release in other women? You left me no choice."
Sarah laughed without mirth. "No choice? So, keeping it in your ridiculously tight pants never crossed your mind?"
Jareth tightened his grip on her hand, and she flinched. "I may be immortal, but I'm still a man. I have needs—needs that you are meant to fulfill as my wife." He chose not to address her insult to his incredible fashion sense.
"Over. My. Dead. Body," she hissed through her teeth.
"Is that an offer?"
She wrenched her hand free. "Just give me the damn divorce and be done with it already."
"Where will you go, Sarah? Back to the mortal world where you no longer belong? Will you go live in the Labyrinth with your friends, Hoghedge et al?" He stepped forward, forcing her to back away.
The fact that she would soon meet up with his bed did not escape his notice. For a heartbeat, visions of what he had done to her in that bed—what he wanted to do to her—danced in his mind. Gods, but he wanted to divest her of those bothersome clothes and lick every inch of her pale skin until she screamed his name. He hated that she still held this power over him.
"Anywhere but here," she said, her cheeks flushing. "I'd rather live in a cave than be near you."
His jaw clenched, and before he could control his temper, he grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. "You may run, but you will never—never—be free of me. I will hunt you down and I will bring you back, even if we must spend the rest of our lives in misery."
She tried to push him away, but he was immovable. "This isn't a game, Jareth. Let go of me!"
"Oh, but it is. It's always been a game. And I intend to never lose again." Maybe her body would forever be barred from him, but by the gods, he would keep her as his queen! He would not suffer that failure.
She spat at his face. "I hate you!"
He wiped the spittle from his cheek. "I assure you, the feeling is quite mutual."
Later, Jareth wouldn't know who initiated the next series of events. Was it when, no longer able to hold back his raging lust despite his abject loathing, he wrapped his arms around her slender waist, desperate for one last feel of her perfect body against his? Or was it when she grabbed his head, drawing his face to hers for a crushing kiss? Did it matter? In the end, Jareth got his wish—licking, lots of wondrous licking. Licking which led to other brilliantly amorous activities—rough, gentle, frantic, and languid. The riding crop came out at one point, and that's when things became truly exciting.
Jareth woke with a warm body snuggled against his. He smiled, stroking the smooth skin of her back. She stirred at his touch, sending a wave of trepidation through him. Would she resume in her demands for the dissolution of their marriage? He wouldn't give it to her, of course. And if their heated confrontations would always end like this, he'd make certain they fought often—every minute of every day, if possible. Those other women were flimsy imitations of his Sarah, and after tasting her again, he would have none other.
"Good morning," Sarah said, giving him a sheepish grin. Hope swelled in his bosom which he tried to squelch. Sarah was volatile at best—much as he—and at any moment her coy smile could turn into revulsion.
"Hm." Jareth kept his tone indifferent. "Sleep well?"
She nodded. "Better than I have in…I don't know how long."
Since you moved out of our rooms. Jareth wisely refrained from uttering the words aloud.
"So…" Her body was still molded to his. That was promising.
"Yes?"
She propped herself up on her elbow, tracing lazy circles on his chest. "No more women."
He raised a brow. "No more withholding intimacy."
They stared at each other for a long moment—stared each other down, rather.
Sarah narrowed her eyes. "Don't piss me off, and you'll have nothing to worry about."
Ha! Easier said than done! "And what, pray tell, did I do to earn your ire?"
She mumbled something in a tiny voice.
"I'm sorry, precious, I didn't quite catch that."
"Younevercametoseemygarden." She cringed before ducking beneath a pillow.
"What!?" Of all the absurd…! "Everything—everything over a garden!?"
She peeked out from the pillow, her generous lips drawn into a pout. Why did he find that expression so arousing? He was distracted by the sudden influx of lascivious images before a pillow connected with his head.
"I said, you dirty old man, I worked hard on that garden, spent months making it beautiful." She sat up, wrapping a silken sheet around her body. Pity, that.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I never received an invitation to see this work of botanical art. In fact, I don't recall even knowing of its existence."
"Where did you think I was while you were off running the Labyrinth? Sitting at home, twiddling my thumbs?"
He gave her a level gaze—which was no small feat in the prone position. "You do understand my magic does not include telepathy? I would have gladly ogled your garden had you given me the opportunity to do so."
Her cheeks took on a lovely rose color. "So, no more women and no more withholding sex. I think I can live with that."
Jareth sighed. She would never admit that, in a fit of stupid anger, she had caused this entire fiasco, but he would not press her on the issue. There were more thrilling ways to get a rise out of her. And he planned on doing just that.
He pulled her against him, the feel of her curves against his chest awakening a previously slumbering member of his body. "Sarah," he said between the kisses he placed at the hollow of her neck.
"Yeah?" The huskiness in her voice nearly caused him to lose his train of thought.
"This is the fifth time you've tried to divorce me in the last twenty years." His hands slipped down to the small of her back, pulling away the sheet she had wrapped around herself. "It's growing rather tedious."
She pulled back, grinning. "But you have to admit—the make-up sex is mind-blowing." She straddled his hips, and all logical thought fled from his mind.
Hours later, in the afterglow of a particularly athletic round of lovemaking, Sarah spoke words that chilled Jareth to the bone:
"I think we should see a marriage counselor."
~FIN~
A/N: Thanks for taking a chance on this dark bit of crack fic. If you have a spare moment, I'd love to hear your thoughts!