A/N - Alrightyyy. Lots of things are happening, so I had to cut this chapter in two. Quick note before you begin, there is a SONG AND DANCE NUMBER featured in this chapter. Tehe. It is 'Lady Grinning Soul' by David Bowie, and I think it is imperative that, should you be unfamiliar with the song, you listen to it before hand to really be able to understand the scene. Now, while this is a real song, in the context of the chapter it is not. Therefore, I have changed a few of the lyrics to better reflect the situation. I hope you enjoy it, as it was a bit tricky for me to write. Still not entirely sure how successful I was, but it's as good as I can make it. That is all. Enjoy.
Chapter 24, Rock and a Hot Place, part 1
The air was sweet today. Particularly so. The sun shone brightly as long-weathered clouds began their gradual dispel. What was once grey and coarse, now turned vibrant and soft. What was once cold now thawed. She inhaled deeply of it, this renewal of life. The first true day of spring.
T'was her favorite day. Not time of year, no, but a single day. It was like she knew, like she knew the exact moment the seasons changed, when seeds deep beneath the soil awoke and warmed like babes from a sound slumber. Petals and early blossoms, loosened from their clusters, fluttered away in the breeze. These buds had been too eager, having roused themselves before the final frost, and were now swept away. Their moment here was fleeting, their eagerness punished with an ephemeral light.
She wondered where their paths took them, those tiny delicate things, what places they might see, what anguish and indignity they may suffer as they rotted and withered. She wondered how fast the color would pale from their flesh, how soon their edges would curl and crimp. Was such a thing to be mourned? Or appreciated all the more?
She shifted away when the breeze changed directions and nipped the side of her face. A gentle lover, she mused, silent and taunting. Father would curse her for dallying, but she couldn't help it. Once again, Aurelia was daydreaming.
She walked back to her family's manor with two buckets in tow. She'd been preparing the gardens and was heading back to the well to fetch more water. Dirt stained her hands and she kept the skirt of her dress tied in the front. She knew Mother would shame her should she be seen, but that would require her to leave the comfort of the house. Father would make clear his disapproval, although he had given up on his lecturing long ago. Yes, there were servants perfectly capable of tending the garden, but there was just something so gratifying about toiling the soil with one's own hands, of watching the fruits of your labors bloom before you. They simply didn't understand. Yet they were the first to appreciate the carefully crafted bouquets that, to them, mysteriously appeared upon their tables and basked in their windows with each season.
She reached the well and began to draw up the bucket. She had asked for a well to be dug closer to the garden, though Father had refused. She imagined he thought the added physical burden would be enough to dissuade her from such trifles. Instead, she only held her head low so as not to see him scowling from the window.
"Lady Aurelia! Lady Aurelia!" Aurelia peered up and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. It was one of her father's servants. He was running at her from the main house. Wait, why was he running? "Milady -" he said, having finally reached her, panting softly as he caught his breath. Aurelia simply stared, waiting for him to continue. "I'm sorry. Forgive my duress. Your parents are requesting your presence immediately," he said. Aurelia pouted. Surely they were not going to begrudge her. She was given one hour a day to work and, judging by the height of the sun, she still had about twenty minutes left.
"Do you know why?" she asked.
"Not precisely, milady. Though I believe you are expecting a guest shortly."
"Oh?" she said, having been unaware of such a thing. Normally her parents made a week-long fuss whenever a guest was expected. They were in dire need of any positive courtship, or so they believed. Oh dear, they must be feeling quite the panic if they themselves were given such short notice. "Alright. I'll be in shortly-" she said, turning to finish her task. The man seemed to flinch nervously and reached out for the bucket before her hand could grasp the handle.
"Forgive me again, I know it is insolent but-" he was looking down, but his eyes flickered up nervously. Aurelia's hand curled back to her side and she straightened up. "I am to finish the remainder of your tasks, milady. Your parents request you bathe and change immediately and to...um...use the servant entrance." He winced at the tail end of his sentence, for he knew from past and frequent experience what her reaction might be.
Her brow rose and her eyes widened a bit. The audacity and insult such a request implied had her fighting off a scowl with all her might. In her youth, she might have thrown a tantrum and made a spectacle of the whole estate. Her parent's constant worry over decorum had made for a stifling childhood, to the point where even such minuscule acts as this had her battling down a fluttering heart. She was however no longer a child and had been learning that it was more advantageous for her to bite the lip until it bled and be, seemingly, as they wanted her. It was better for everyone else to be happy, she thought. And perhaps, in time, she might earn some small concession -like the garden.
And so, against the poor courier's presumptions, Aurelia did not frown. Instead she tilted her head in acknowledgement and went on her way. The servant's entrance was on the complete other side of the manor. She'd be wasting more time trying to be discreet than simply walking in through the front door. Was their guest already here?
She entered the house and went straight to her room, growing curious at the way the staff seemed to be fevered in their hustle. It seemed they too had been caught off guard. She washed herself quickly and put on a fresh gown. Knowing her parents, an informal dress like the one she'd been wearing simply wouldn't do. A couple of her lady's maids were busy tightening her corsets and knotting her hair when a knock came at the door.
"Yes?" she called. The door opened to reveal Dresden, her father's steward.
"Milady, are you about finished?" he asked, a little hushed. This time Aurelia did frown.
"Yes. Why, may I ask, have you come to call on me and not Mother?" That was certainly strange. Very rarely did her parents send Dresden in their stead.
"They are preoccupied with greeting our guest," he said. "They urge you to join them as soon as possible."
"Who is this guest? And why have they arrived so suddenly?" she asked. She saw a twitch of sorts move through his brow but couldn't discern it. He too seemed nervous.
"It is a King, milady," he said, averting his eyes to the shock that fell plainly over her. "So please, do compose yourself." He closed the door and left, leaving Aurelia bemused and terrified. On instinct she'd assumed he meant Broden, the King of Yore, but soon realized that's not what he said, was it? A sinking feeling crept over her, for she could not fathom any possible reason why any King, let alone the one she suspected, would ever visit here.
She shuffled down the hall to the foyer, as that was where she was told they were, curious to why they had not retired to somewhere more comfortable. The foyer was large, with high ceilings and windows, a decorative table marked the center, but it was otherwise without furniture. She imagined how awkward her parents must be feeling, standing in the entryway with a King whilst they bought time for their frivolous daughter. It was then that she realized she'd forgotten to scrub the dirt from under her fingernails.
She entered from the far end of the room, quietly, so that she might survey their circumstances.
She saw her parents. They were standing close together with their backs to her, effectively concealing any improper entrance she might possibly make, and she almost rolled her eyes at their transparency. She could hear them talking. Her mother's voice was higher than usual, her father's lower, their words enunciated and indicative of their anxiety. She also heard to whom they were speaking, heard his casual drawl and deep, unreciprocated laugh. She was in disbelief. Even as she saw him, she didn't believe it.
"Ah, and there she is," Jareth said, a wide snaking grin creasing his face as he watched her draw near. Aurelia slowed but her eyes stayed fixated on his, revealing blatantly how alarmed she was by his presence. The look changed entirely however once she peered over to greet her parents.
"Mother. Father," she said, with practiced demure, and turned back to Jareth. He rose a slight brow at the shift in her posture, the gentle pull of her eyelids. "Your Majesty, what a pleasure it is to see you again," she said. Jareth's smile renewed itself. Oh, this was going to be fun.
"A pleasure, indeed," he said, and surprised her parents by reaching out and kissing the back of her hand. Aurelia remained well composed, though could feel the itch of her mother's gaze undoubtedly looking for fault in her attire. She curled her hands then, hoping to hide her indecency.
"May I ask what brings you to our home?" she asked, directly. Jareth eased back and tilted his head. His hair, falling long on one side, glinted in the sharp light from the window. Hm, so straight to it, was she?
"I'm traveling the area," he said, waving a nonchalant hand through the air. "Broden and Bryce are looking for fresh hunting grounds and I thought perhaps I might stop in for a spell," he said, letting her see the artifice in his eyes. This worried Aurelia greatly, but why she wasn't sure. "As I was just telling your parents, your King himself is camped not too far from here. Perhaps they might extend an invitation themselves and earn some favor." He shot them an eye to which they nodded in acknowledgement; although, through demeanor alone, Jareth made it otherwise clear Aurelia was the only one he was interested in speaking with. She didn't like the way her parents deferred to him, as she realized it was with the same fear and submission she herself had displayed when she'd found out who he was at the tea party. That was some weeks ago now and she felt differently this round. As though she could see him in a way that they could not. This mood however did nothing to change her respect for him or his authority.
"Then I must thank you," she said, smiling meekly. "Such news is really quite advantageous for us. But may I ask...how did you know where I live?" Perhaps that was a baited question, one she regretted asking after catching the air of connivery that brightened his eyes. It seemed that whatever they truly wished to say was, it would not be said in view of her parents.
"My staff keep detailed records," he said, coyly, though dismissively, as he took a step around her. "I say Lord Emayluss, your manor is quite impressive."
"Oh, thank you Your Majesty!"
"I should like to see more of it and perhaps, if it's no inconvenience, share in the company of your dining hall? I find myself feeling a little peckish after a long day's ride." He spoke with inflection but no one doubted he was not making a request, and in truth such a demand brought her parents great excitement.
"Of course Your Majesty! You honor us, truly. Perhaps, now that she has finally arrived, Aurelia here will give you a tour of the grounds after we feast."
"It would be a great pleasure, Your Majesty." Jareth paused his pacing and peered back to her. Their eyes locked but she gave nothing away.
"Pleasure, yes," he said, cryptically and turned to offer her his hand. "I Insisted we wait for your arrival before making ourselves too comfortable. I hope you didn't feel rushed?" he asked, though she could sense from his tone that was precisely what he had been hoping for. So he had done this on purpose then? Was he trying to catch them off guard?
"Not at all," she replied, smiling just as shrewdly as he. His eyes narrowed for just a moment. She seemed better prepared than when they'd first met.
"Hm, shall we then, milady?" Without response she took his arm and held it gently, worried over the hitch in her breath that the mere touch of him had sparked.
Dinner was pleasant for no-one but Jareth. All members of the house, staff included, operated on pins and needles, fearful should they say the wrong thing or worse -bore him. Emayluss presided over a comparatively small dominion and none of them were accustomed to hosting such a high ranking individual, especially one as strange as the King of Goblins. Word of his impending arrival came mere minutes before the man himself. He came alone, in the middle of the day, without a royal caravan, and with a truly unnerving sense of familiarity. Rumors of his mercurial moods were commonplace and far-fetched, and left much to their quivering imaginations. Still, they carried on in seemingly perfect stride. If nothing else, the house of Seerva'nah was well practiced.
Aurelia however was unusually quiet, choosing to instead observe as much as she could. Jareth, oblivious to, or perhaps sadistically enthused by, the steady unnerving of his companions his company provoked, chattered on with enough conversation to speak for the lot of them. He tried, numerous times, to draw her in but she knew better. She'd learned from their previous meeting just what type of predator he was. He enjoyed feeding off of other people, asserting dominance by instilling insecurity in those around him. If she spoke too willfully or directly he might lure her into something she would assuredly regret. And all the while she kept wondering what his purpose was for being there in the first place. After the way their last conversation ended, she didn't think she would ever see him again.
He sat at the head of the table, she immediately to his right. Her mother and father sat reflecting them on the far end. In between sat her uncle and two cousins, none of whom Jareth had acknowledged in the slightest.
"Honestly, I'm surprised you remember our dear Aurelia. From her own account, it didn't seem like she'd made much of an impression," said her mother. Aurelia had enough grace not to show her annoyance, though Jareth knew better, glancing down from time to time at the subtle tension she exuded into the hold of her fork.
"Oh, I'm sure she was merely being modest. She caught a number of eyes that day," he said, hoping to earn a small rise out of her. However, again, she remained silent and tactful.
"Well that is splendid news then. We were starting to fear for the poor girl." Her mother was pleased, though her tone didn't necessarily reflect it. Her father, growing annoyed with his wife's lack of tact, shot her private glares repeatedly.
And so dinner carried on, the cycle of farcical conversation holding no interest to Aurelia, who was only growing more and more disappointed in Jareth. He was putting on a show for them, a malicious satirical show at their own expense, but a show nonetheless. She knew that wasn't him. She knew nothing else about him but that.
"I say, that was a splendid meal My Lord, My Lady, and you have proven to be very gracious hosts," Jareth finally said, in conclusion it seemed, as he pushed away from the table. Aurelia breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps he would leave just as suddenly as he'd appeared.
"Not hardly, Your Majesty. We are entirely at your disposal," her father said, gesturing for the servants lurking in the corners to clear away the table.
"Your Majesty, may I inquire how long it is you plan to stay with us? Shall we prepare a room?" asked her mother and, for some reason, this time Aurelia was unable to smother her reaction. It was still hard to believe he was really here, eating dinner with her and her parents, but would he really stay the night? Indefinitely? Why?! Jareth patted the corner of his mouth with a napkin.
"No. I think I've imposed on your hospitality long enough. I'll head back to Broden's camp before nightfall. All that's left now is that tour, right Aurelia?" He'd turned his head to look at her as he said her name, and so she set down her fork gently.
"If that is His Majesty's wish," she said, meeting his gaze. Jareth smiled, set down his napkin, and stood. The rest of the family reciprocated in tandem. It was in that split second that she wondered when her mother would assign her an escort. She'd never been alone with a man (to their knowledge), and thus became worried when neither said a thing. She peered at them and was taken aback by the urgency she found waiting in both their gazes. They wanted her to be alone with him. Like she was a calf being pushed towards the slaughter. Her mouth dropped open slightly, as if abashed, though the look quickly reversed itself when the urgency became irate. It seemed she was indeed to lead him throughout the shadowed corridors of their home alone and unguarded. How obscene. As her mood sank, she wondered what repercussions awaited her should she let them down again.
"My dear?"
She heard Jareth's voice calling to her and realized she'd been distracted. She turned towards him with fluttering lashes and graciously accepted his hand as he held it out to her. He paid her parents, nor anyone else, any mind as she escorted him to the door.
"I think we'll start with the garden. My parents are quite proud of it."
Aurelia was completely silent as they made the trek from the manor to the gardens arm in arm. Jareth did not mind, still enjoying the spectacle her parents had made of themselves. He'd inquired earlier from Bryce, the crowned prince of Yore, for information regarding Aurelia and her family. It seemed the girl's grandfather had made a series of poor decisions in his youth resulting in a dramatic fall from court favor. Despite being a duke, they were effectively ostracized. Her father, Emayluss, had made great strides to restore the family's relationship with the crown, but was less than successful. They really were desperate in their attempts to please him. Pitiful really, as if they were starving for stature. And it was clear they had great ambitions for their daughter to make up for their shortcomings. No wonder she felt so suffocated by it.
They entered the garden, though to Jareth's confusion there was not much of a garden to enter.
"Your parents are proud of this?" he asked, curtly, his eyes roaming from a barren tree overhead to a brittle bush at their feet. In the center was a pond, small, and still muddied from the winter thaw. He saw Aurelia smile then. Her first real expression.
"No. No, they despise it. I only said that to get a rise out of them," she said, releasing his arm to step away as she giggled to herself. Jareth narrowed his eyes. That was unexpected. "This garden is actually mine. My project, at least. I'm only allowed a short time each day to toil it, so the process is slow. It will however become beautiful once summer arrives." She drifted away as she spoke, the tips of her fingers grazing along dead branches wistfully.
"They find a Lady tending a garden to be improper?" he asked, and she turned back to him as if surprised.
"Do you not?"
Jareth shrugged and stepped towards her. They were moving further into the garden and hopefully out of her parent's gaze.
"I don't see the harm," he said, reaching up to flick a dying bud from a branch. Aurelia's eyes spied him discreetly.
"That is...refreshing to hear. Please, would you like to sit with me for a moment?" she asked, gesturing towards a stone bench. She took a seat without his response, so he obliged her. "I truly do love this place. Nature is a many splendored thing."
"Well, sunshine and flowers do seem to match your complexion," he said and she laughed softly. A hand instinctively rose to her mouth and her eyes lowered. It was a reaction that bothered him, the way she felt compelled to hide what was really a truly radiant face.
"You flatter me, Your Majesty," she said, glancing away as if to conceal her lingering smile. Her golden hair gleamed in the natural light, her cheeks and nose rosy from the slight chill still lingering in the air. She was a lovely thing to look at, really. Though he found her to be out of place propped against a backdrop of things dead and grey.
"Jareth." And she glanced back in surprise. "Call me Jareth," he repeated, and watched as her smile faded completely. Her posture, once relaxed, now stiffened and her back arched properly as her hands folded in her lap. He'd caught her off guard again.
"Yes, well. Might I ask then, Jareth, the real reason for your visit?" She wanted to be quick, to get to the point of all this as she knew he was still being something less than himself. She did not like being played with. She'd told him that already...
"Don't do that."
Aurelia blinked and looked back to him.
"Do what?"
She was surprised by how intensely he was looking at her, how close his shoulder was to hers.
Jareth bit the inside of his lip before responding. There was something about her that bothered him. He wasn't quite enjoying himself as he once was.
"You behave differently around them," he said and her brow tensed. He tilted his head and inched a little closer. "Or perhaps, you behave differently around me. Is it because we're alone?" Aurelia swallowed but didn't respond right away. He was making her uncomfortable. She only hoped her parents couldn't see.
"I...I'm not sure...if we're being watched," she said, sitting rigidly. Jareth eased back and glanced towards the house. It was faint, but he could see the silhouette of someone peeking out a window. That's when he realized it wasn't he whom she was putting on airs for, but them. Irritated, he rose a hand and in an instant a wall of thorns grew to obstruct them from view. Aurelia gasped and shifted back. "Wha-how did you do that?" she asked, having never seen such effortless magic. Jareth, ignoring her reaction, turned towards her and leaned in.
"They make you insecure, don't they?" he asked and she glared back defensively.
"Pardon?" she asked, and he was amazed with how instantaneously her mannerisms changed once safe from their scrutiny.
"I think I understand now, what you were trying to say when we first met," he said and showed mercy by leaning a safe distance away. Aurelia pursed her lips and eyed him suspiciously, for there was now a change in him too. He looked more familiar to her all of the sudden, like the version she'd first met in the hall.
"Yes well, I'm not the only one who acts according to company, am I?" she countered. "I could ask the same of you, you know."
"No, I don't."
"The farce," she said, shifting in her seat. "The one you described when we met. You've been putting on the same pretense from the moment you arrived." She was staring up at him all wide-eyed and angry, or at least a version of anger that suited her. Jareth furrowed his brow just slightly. He didn't like being inspected so brazenly. "I don't like it. That doppler whom you and everyone else seem to think is so charming." He might have been offended had she not looked away just then, had she not crossed her arms and frowned. She looked disappointed, like he had let her down, and he found himself feeling the queer and unwelcome sense to apologize.
"You think it a pretense?" he asked, baiting her to insult him further. She was looking away from him now, out over the garden. She looked frustrated.
"I know it is," she said, turning back to face him. "I know because I'm not the only one who sighed in relief once that wall went up." Her look on him was hard, scolding almost, and Jareth found himself drawn into it. She was right, he had felt relieved once they were truly alone, truly able to speak without first hand-picking each word.
"You're right," he conceded, to her surprise. "I am unfortunately accustomed to court life and as you've learned, in such a culture paintings are more real than people." And to that Aurelia's scowl softened. She was gearing up for debate but realized they were one in the same. Perhaps that was why she was able to see through him so quickly. They both lived lives as seen through everyone else's eyes. It was exhausting, and she'd recognized the same exhaustion in him the moment they met. But talking with him, whether it be here, or the hall, or the couch in his castle, was easy. She was surprised and deeply unnerved by just how easy it was.
"Well, at least you seem to enjoy your facade, tearing down those around you nerve by nerve," she said and, curiously to Jareth, her tone was not judgemental. No, she was speaking genuinely, as if it was an ability she longed for. He felt sorry for her. Sorry she'd been raised to have such a yearning. The need to control those around him was something that benefited him now, yes, but he would have rather had a life that rendered him without the need in the first place.
"I couldn't help it," he said, turning away from her and biting his cheek. "Your parents, from the moment I set foot in their door, they did nothing but condescend you. Every other line was about something you lacked. They were trying to sell you, and at the same time establishing your worthlessness. It was becoming a bit annoying really." He was staring ahead at the thorns, glaring almost, while his fingers tapped along the bench. She watched him eagerly, surprised with how much his admission affected her. Maybe they were more alike than she had yet realized.
"I would say worthlessness is a bit excessive. They mean well. It is difficult, yes...managing their expectations. Though that is perhaps because I am not an easy child," she said, and it disappointed him how readily she defended them, recognizing the bitter undertone that lined her words all too well.
"Yes, they would have you be painted and strung, undue and well-silenced. Such a thing really would be worthless. Meanwhile, you'd rather yourself here, prostrate in the mud. Perhaps I should reveal to them just how worthwhile your worthlessness is." She felt his hand curl around hers and looked down to find him tracing the tips of his fingers along the lines of dirt still stuck under her nails. The contact, unexpectedly intimate, provoked something in her. She almost pulled away, but she didn't. Instead she held onto his hand in return.
"Why have you come here, Jareth?" she asked again, softly this time, and turned to look him square in the eye. Surely, it wasn't merely in spite of her parents. He clutched her hand more firmly and she drew in a breath of anticipation before he released it altogether and stood.
"It's simple really," he said, looking to the ground in a haphazard gesture. "I think you should marry me."
"What?" Aurelia's eyes widened and she too stood. He was pacing away from her, towards the pond, and she followed suit. "Why?" she asked. He shrugged.
"I believe we would make a good match," he said, and she shook her head.
"But I've already told you, I have no desire to marry you," she said, and quickly withdrew her impassioned tone. Jareth cocked his head and glanced back at her. She looked worried. He wasn't sure what to make of it.
"And that is precisely what makes us a good match," he said. Aurelia just stared, at a loss.
"I...I don't understand," she said, sounding defeated, as if her fate had been sealed then and there. Jareth turned around to face her fully and gestured his hands towards her.
"You're different," he said, as if that was all the explanation needed, and watched as she moved quickly to join him at his side. She'd grasped the front of his jacket and stared up at him urgently, wondering why this all seemed so mundane to him. Until just now she thought she'd seen in him a kindred spirit. But this, this she had no understanding of. He sighed then, falling prey to her wide gleaming eyes. "I told you when we met. I do not want a wife who will watch me too closely. I have no time to play house." He spoke gently now, reaching up to pull on her chin before glancing away. Her hand fell back to her side.
"No time? What do you mean?" He was staring down at the pond now, falsely distracted. His brow was furrowed, like he didn't want to say what came next.
"I have an ambition," he said, placing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. It was a gesture of retreat that Aurelia recognized immediately. He was trying to close himself off from her. After all that conversation he was pulling away now. She didn't like it. She didn't want him to turn away. "One. Above all else," he continued. "I cannot afford distraction. I have very little attention to give and you seem like a wife who would require little attending." He spoke plainly but it wasn't registering with the same sense to Aurelia. She looked hurt, or possibly just bemused. He was watching her from his peripheral, but then furrowed his brow again and looked away. "You don't like to be watched," he added and she pursed her lips. "Neither do I. Having a superficial wife, as we discussed, would be...stifling."
"But I don't understand. Your reputation makes you out to be quite the...libertine." And her eyes lowered bashfully. If there was ever a time for her innocence to put her at a disadvantage, it was now. Yes, she'd heard many tales on the walk through his castle, many instances of him and his partners intimately described. Was he really planning to resign himself from all that? Jareth cracked a smirk and huffed.
"Hmph, well there is always time for that," he said, flippantly. Aurelia glared, unreceptive of his misplaced humor. Another effort to distance himself from her, she noted. She really didn't like it. She was about to retort but then something struck her. A deeper reason for his insufferable charm, and the real reason why it bothered her so much. He was putting on a facade yes, but he wasn't trying to control the people around him, at least not because he enjoyed it. No, he did it to keep them away, to make sure they didn't see the shadow in his eye or the falter in his grin. To make sure they didn't see what she could see so plainly in him now. He did not want someone who would watch him too closely. And yet he wanted her.
Her annoyance quelled and she found herself frowning.
"You make yourself an enigma and expect me, anyone, not to be curious?" she asked, and he peered over at the strange sense of frailty he heard in her voice. "Might you at least tell me what this ambition is that must keep you from falling prey to any manner of intimacy?" Her question was one laced with pure naivety, her tone holding an eagerness, hopefulness, that Jareth could honestly only laugh at. Minding his manners however, he restrained himself to cracking an incredulous smile.
"You ask that as if intimacy is a good thing. In my experience, it is not," he said, effectively shooting her down. "My purpose, my vocation as it were, has always been to acquire...that is...to fix what is broken. To amend...the legacy of my family. I do not care for anyone or anything else. I cannot." He was staring down at her now, at those big round eyes that were bluer than the sky and perfect honey-colored hair. She looked like a doll, the shine in her glass eyes wistful and directed solely at him. It was almost too much, too direct. Thankfully she broke the moment with the curl of a pouting lip.
"That is noble of you, yes," she started, then glanced away towards the water. "But I don't see...what incentive there is for me in all this. You're saying you only want me because I do not want you? What a dreadful future you paint for the two of us." She felt so very sad all of the sudden. Sad because of how sad the man before her was, more so because he didn't even realize it. She'd proposed to him before that if not love, he should instead find a companion, and she thought perhaps that was what he saw in her. The kindred spirit. It seemed now though that was not the case. His proposition of her was as superficial as the alternative he condemned. She pitied him. Truly.
In that moment he'd revealed himself and she saw him clearly. He was alone. Alone in a way that no one knew, in a way that she felt but could not decipher. And this was the only connection he would permit himself to make. He said this was what he wanted but the fact that he was reaching out to her spoke differently, didn't it? She didn't know what to do. She was afraid, afraid of how badly she wanted to look at him.
"Paint it yourself."
Aurelia's plight fell dead in its tracks as her head whipped up to face him. Their eyes locked and he leaned in close, bringing his hands to hold the sides of her face.
"That is what I offer you," he continued. "I hold no expectations. No passive aggressions or downward glances. You may run your life as you see fit. Toil in your garden, butcher your own cattle, sew your own wares, I don't care. Live a life without prying eyes. Does that not sound the least bit appealing?" He was speaking to her as if in a plea and she was left dangerously vulnerable to his proximity. His gloved hands on her face were warm and gentle, and he smelled of the sun and the forest and the promise of the future she now imagined. How wonderful would that be? she wondered. She swallowed and licked her lips, unable to formulate a decisive reaction. She'd never been so close to a man. She'd never been able to see such detail in another person's eyes. "I keep very few staff in my castle. Primary residents are myself, my brother, my mother, and Roldan," he continued, gradually releasing her face and pulling away from her. She might have followed after him had she not been shocked by the mention of Roldan's name. She'd nearly forgotten about him, about how her heart had raced as it was now and the panic that immediately followed. She opened her mouth to speak but there was suddenly too much on her mind. "There would be little to bother you, to stifle you as you are so clearly stifled here," he said, turning and gesturing distastefully at the estate behind them. "All I ask is for the same in return. I will treat you well, I swear it."
Aurelia's eyes darted. She felt very nervous and had no idea what to say, how much time she even had to say it. He offered her all that she strived for in secret dreams, yet the question remained on the end of her tongue: what about love? She did not love this man, and it was clear he had no intention of falling in love with her. Could her inner romantic really be sacrificed in the name of freedom? Would it be suicide to think she could have both in the end? She struggled openly with conflicting feelings, but in the end all she managed was an ambivalent, "But…"
"Would it not also please your parents?" Jareth interrupted, provoking Aurelia to raise a hand to her chest defensively. It seemed like he was bullying her now and she became wary of this new sense of impatience. "Imagine the rise in rank above them. You would never hear a condescending word from them again."
"I've never been vindictive," she finally managed to say, using the moment to find her footing. "Why are you trying so hard to persuade me?" Jareth paused and shifted his posture in her direction. His hands were loosely fisted at his sides and it seemed as if they were now arguing. He had become defensive and she imagined it was because that while he professed indifference he was in fact asking her for something to which she did not readily agree. He was a King who was asking for something that he wanted, wanted badly enough to go out of his way to a completely different country and lie, and prattle, and barter, and suffer cheap food, and trudge through the mud of a rundown garden for merely the potential of attaining. She humbled herself then, realizing just how precarious her situation might be.
"I'm not," Jareth said, with slight petulance. "I'm simply...tired...of relying on the whim of others." His hands relaxed and he looked to the ground for a moment. He sighed, composing himself before looking up to meet her gaze once more. "I'm ready to take charge of my life. Are you?"
His question was sincere. He said he didn't care, wouldn't care about her, but the look in his eye made her feel like she mattered more than anything else in the world. He went out of his way to find her. He crafted this ruse to be alone with her, to ask her, not her parents, for something that was in actuality so much more than a marriage. It was a plea. It was a call for help. In a sea of dizzying faces he'd managed to spot her. The man who hated being seen, saw the one person who truly saw him back. Perhaps she was being dramatic again. Perhaps she only saw what novels had taught her to see. Regardless, the irony affected her deeply, so much so that she acted on whim.
"Jareth-" she said, smiling gently as she reached up and caressed his face. He was staring down at her, unable to gauge her. She sighed through her nose, a silent thought falling into place. He wondered what she would say and was thus surprised when instead she closed her eyes and kissed him.
She held their faces together, appreciating his scent and the feel of his hair. His eyes closed as well and she moved to deepen the kiss. Her tongue parted his lips and he reciprocated, her fingers curling firmly into his hairline. He was hesitant to touch her, as if it were a test. After another moment she released him, pulling away just slightly. Their lips were still touching when he asked, "What was that for?"
Their eyelashes batted against one another as Aurelia smiled. Her eyes flickered down briefly in embarrassment but soon rose back to meet his.
"At the very least...I can't be expected to marry someone to whom I feel no passion for. Might we at least compromise on that?" she asked. Jareth, the King of Goblins. There was much said about him, about his mannerisms and temperament, his predilections and chicanery, but none of those stories told the depth of sadness she saw in his eyes, nor the light that replaced it when his smile became true. He said he didn't want to be seen. Maybe being seen was exactly what he needed.
She wanted to be there for him. This man she hardly knew. She wanted to support him in his ambition, whatever that really meant, and to see him conquer the shadow that had bruised him so deeply. She'd never amounted to much, but she could be that for him. She could be what he needed.
She wanted to escape her mundane, meaningless existence. And he was right, she wanted something more than the disappointment of her parents. Perhaps it was time to act for herself. Perhaps she could make them all happy. After all, making other people happy was what she did best.
"Yes, a fair compromise indeed," Jareth said, smiling widely. His hand rose into the back of her hair and he kissed her again. She was soft and wilting, her touch and her tongue tender. He did not question her motivations, merely pleased with how effortless the moment felt. After a long minute they pulled away from each other and he stared down at her expectantly. "And?"
"I will marry you," she said, her smile humble. Her eyes raked down his face, her hand once again brushing along the side of his cheek. It was an intimate gesture, one full of love and promise that even he was not immune to. He felt soothed by it. She truly was a radiant creature. "And," she added, her eyes lowering in thought as her smile widened. "I will build the most splendid garden."
Sarah stood with her hands on her hips as she inspected her wardrobe. It was convenient how it adapted to her momentary wants, but complex ensembles still required a discerning eye and she had yet to become the medieval fashionista the world expected her to be. It probably didn't help that Mariella was the one who usually put together her outfits.
She started to chew on one of her thumbs as she thought.
"What do you think?" she asked, peering over to Jareth, who was watching her from a nearby chair.
"About what?" he asked. They'd had a lazy start to the day. It was well past noon and she still had yet to dress herself. He didn't mind, as it gave him more opportunity to appreciate her in the buff. He'd been watching her for what felt like a while now, mindlessly gazing at the sheer slip she wore over her rather dark, blood-colored lingerie. T'was a good color for her, though he'd prefer she lose the slip.
"Should I wear something more formal or not?"
She was of course referring to their eminent excursion to the north. It'd been several days since she'd recieved Davion's letter and it seemed far too quickly that today was the day that would mark almost assured regret. He tried, with admittedly little effort, to dissuade her from the idea, but her seemingly genuine excitement was enough for him to bite the bullet. He didn't trust his brother, but he didn't believe he would ever actually hurt Sarah, especially because he knew what was really at stake. He was sure she'd come to regret her decision all on her own once they arrived. Davion's way of life...was undoubtedly not like anything she'd seen before.
"That's up to you. I would however advise comfort over form."
"Hm, so they like to bend the rules of the dress code too?"
"...You could say that."
She reached in and pulled out a heavy blue velvet coat. It had fur along the collar and was embroidered with jewels around the base of the skirt.
"What about this?"
Thankfully, Mariella had taken care of all her packing preparations the night before. All that was left was for Sarah to dress herself. They were going north, so it stood to say she should dress warm…
"If you want to find yourself unconscious in the foyer, then yes," he said, lackadaisical. Sarah peered back at him with a smirk.
"What exactly does that mean?" Jareth leaned forward, shifted his coat tails, and crossed his legs.
"Fyrn is extremely humid and a great deal warmer than here. You would surely surrender to heatstroke should you wear something like that," he explained, with a casual gesture. "Not that you wouldn't look positively lovely while doing so." Sarah laughed and set the coat back in the closet. She didn't notice, but he was still watching her, observing every detail with keen interest: the angle of her downward cast lashes, the glint of her teeth when she smiled, the stray hair that she pushed back from her face. He'd never enjoyed looking at a person as he did her. Though, unfortunately, he couldn't with all honesty say it was merely admiration that motivated him.
He was nervous, as he had been for the last several days. True, Sarah had shown no more sign of subconscious spellcasting, but the threat remained all the same. Liana's magic was more than he could contend with, as he'd realized from the perverse display he'd had to deal with the other night, and he feared what might befall him, Sarah, or anyone else, should something like that happen again. It was with this trepidation that he'd considered forcing his hand on banning Sarah's frozen holiday but...he supposed he'd been given enough peace of mind to rescind himself of those urges.
The night it had happened, Sarah had fallen asleep in his arms and no sooner did he worm his way out of hers. Nervous tremors were once again rousing themselves as he dressed and then made his way back to his room. It was dark, foriegn and cold, now that he'd been sharing Sarah's bed so often. He ran his hands through his hair and composed himself, turning towards a door that only appeared when he needed it-
"You wanted to see me?"
He turned at the sound of Liana's voice. She was sitting in his chair, staring at him with her head cocked to one side.
"You're aware," Jareth said, concealing his surprise at her sudden interruption and stared at her as if she should have understood there was a different question in those words. When she didn't respond he huffed and moved around her. "Have you come to laugh at me?" he asked, rounding the couch to sit on the far end. Liana took particular notice of the distance he kept from her but ignored it for now.
"No. I came to you because I sensed you were coming to me. Figured I'd save you some time." She'd turned to face him, her expression vacant and revealing nothing. The fire, once faint, steadily grew to reveal more of her. Her gown was crystalline, jagged and rainbowed, refracting the light of the fire in glowing undulation.
"And you undoubtedly know why?" he asked. Again Liana tilted her head. He seemed angry with her, though even he knew it was preemptive. He dialed it back for his own sake. He'd nurse his pride later.
"Yes. I felt everything." She spoke without inflection, but her tongue couldn't help but trace her lower lip as she spoke. It was all Jareth could do not to sneer.
"Are you going back on our deal so soon? Perhaps honor is reserved for those of true sentience." Now that earned a reaction, however subtle. She shifted her posture and crossed her legs, sitting up straighter as she placed her hands on the arms of the chair.
"It is not, I assure you. I had nothing to do with tonight's little...mishap." Now that she did annunciate. Jareth bit his cheek but remained stern. He was inclined to believe her, though he knew he really had no reason to. "Although, I do recall you enjoying it, no? Just a tad?" She teased him, her mouth curling in the faintest smirk. Jareth fought off a scowl. "Ah, but you are concerned nonetheless. Go on, ask your questions." He was suspicious of how agreeable she was being, like she had been planning for this moment. He'd deal with that later.
"The fact that she was able to tap into your power with a mere thought, explain it."
An interesting difference between humans and fae was the manner in which they controlled magic. For fae it was a seventh sense. A skill refined in mental fortitude and will. Humans however possessed no such sense. The way they had learned to control magic was limited to facilitators like rituals, potions and physical spellcasting. He had been curious as to how Liana's presence in Sarah would manifest itself given these facts. She seemed to channel power similarly to a fae, despite being human. Only, to use magic subconsciously was near unheard of, even in children.
"A mere thought? Jareth don't be so obtuse," Liana said, smiling and glancing away shrewdly. "It was not thought that invoked her power but emotion, and there was nothing mere about it. Surely you've surmised this already?" She looked to him and he was glaring. She couldn't help but laugh. "My, she must have really knocked you off your game. Perhaps we should continue this conversation once you've found your bearings. I'd hate to take advantage of you."
"Do not mock me," he snapped. Yes, he'd realized long ago that Sarah's emotional state was directly tied to Liana's power, past meltdowns triggering mass tremors and societal destruction having been a fairly clear indicator. However, "This was something different and you know it. She had an intention. She conjured a physical object and imbued it with an enchantment. That is something that at the very least would take a modicum of concentration and direct transference, and yet she managed to do so completely unaware of herself." He was growing impatient with Liana's candid demeanor and became even more so when her response was all but a shrug.
"What can I say? I am Liana, the Great and Powerful."
Jareth only stared.
"How then, was I able to break free at all?" he asked. Liana's smile curled deliciously.
"Why because she orgasmed, you silly thing," she said, giggling and waving him off with a hand. Jareth was a bit taken back. Not expecting that as an answer.
"Excuse me?" Liana's eyes rolled at how much of a spoil-sport he was being.
"Her orgasm. In that moment the requirements of her emotional state had been satiated, her concentration as you would phrase it, whilst subconscious, faltered all the same. You chose that very moment to exert your own force into a figurative wall that was now cracked," She turned and leaned back a little, openly making herself comfortable. "And what perfect timing it was. Had you waited for the rush to subside she may have regained focus and you, sad little king, would have been left all out of sorts." She flicked imaginary dust from the chair and looked away. Her playful disregard had Jareth fuming on the edge of his seat, for he had already acknowledged the reality of what might have happened were he unable to break free. He didn't need her rubbing it in his face.
"As suspected, I would have been trapped indefinitely. Go ahead and laugh to your heart's content; but am I to take from this that an awakening will render her completely unmanageable?" He looked dubious but Liana knew better. Her eyes narrowed on him and her smile turned wry.
"What? Did you think that because she is a human vessel that her capabilities would be limited? That you would, by some extension, be allowed as a regent over her -and thus me?" she asked, to which he said nothing. She smiled wider. "Well you would be right. As a human, especially one born of the other world, she can never wield me to my full potential. You made a good choice of her in that, at least. She can however, still wield me." Perhaps Jareth thought binding her to a human would temper her wrath, perhaps it was an honest oversight. Either way, he was surely kicking himself now, stupidly realizing he'd created, then married, a timebomb. "If I were callow I might say that's what you get when you go messing with forces you do not fully understand." And oh, he did not even understand the half of it. If Thaelon had done anything well, it was in keeping his sons ignorant and misdirected. Jareth knew she was more powerful than any fae, knew that she channeled a different kind of magic, what he was unsure of was if there was any limit to that power, or the truth to the nuances that directed it.
Jareth scowled. She was taunting him and he had zero leverage to retort with. She was right. He'd made a grave oversight. He thought managing Sarah's manic episodes would be the worst of it. If he could do that then he could keep her dormant. After cutting off Liana's influence, Sarah's condition had been so well stabilized that precautions against her awakening had been all but forgotten. It was stupid to get caught up in the house they were finally starting to build. There were actions to take, however this was entirely uncharted territory and he had not planned nearly enough contingencies.
"And I would say, that's what I get for improvising. As you might recall, I've made more than one dramatic change in plans." Yes. None of this would be an issue if he had killed her all those years ago, and neither would it be an issue had he manipulated her into loving him. But, the self-sabotaging fool that he was, simply had to have it all.
"Indeed."
There was silence for a moment, Liana waiting and Jareth begrudging the continuation of the conversation.
"Why...why have her powers escalated now? If, as you say, you have ceased your instigations." He wondered still why she was being so easily forthcoming about all this. She had no obligation to speak with him and he figured it surely couldn't be in her best interest.
"You already know the answer to that question as well," she said, and sighed when he only looked deadpanned. "I told you quite some time ago that the longer she is in this realm the further she will acclimate, which is to say that the connection between the magic within her and the magic surrounding her will only strengthen. It is inevitable Jareth. She will awaken eventually, with or without my help." She watched as his glare turned to a glower and frowned. If circumstances were only slightly different she wouldn't object to this particular issue… "Would you like some advice?" she asked, to which his brow rose with skepticism.
"Why would you help me?" he asked. "Is it not your desire for her to awaken?" Liana pursed her lips. It wasn't her place to give it away just yet.
"I do want her to awaken. However...currently I believe it would be ill-timed," she said, to which Jareth's brow drew.
"Ill-timed?"
Waving him off, she turned her head away and tapped her fingers along her knee.
"If these outbursts are triggered by strong emotion, you may then simply keep her from feeling things too strongly, correct?" she asked, peering back at him. "This would also mean keeping her desires sated well before she has the chance to truly desire them in the first place. Do you think you can do that Jareth?"
"Keep my hot-blooded wife from becoming impassioned?" Jareth asked, incredulously. Was she serious right now?
"Things will naturally continue to escalate, but do you really have any other choice?" she countered. Jareth's hands fisted on his thighs and he glanced down in contemplation.
"Will she be able to handle it?" he asked. Liana tilted her head. "If...when she does awaken, will her body be strong enough to sustain it?" He looked back up to her and surprisingly all the frustration had left his eyes. He was worried. Liana frowned slightly.
"Jareth, was it not you who -with such certainty, mind you- assured me an awakening would tear her to shreds?" He was quiet at that, recalling his proclamations in the woods when she'd attacked him. That seemed...foolish now. "I do wonder, whatever could be causing that iron-clad resolve of yours to be faltering now?" She mocked him, which had him regretting even asking the question. "It's refreshing to see you actually holding up your end of a bargain for once," she continued, glancing away dismissively. "I am also pleased, and disappointed, for that is the first time you've ever bothered to actually ask me that." She shifted again, smoothing out her skirt. "I believe she will, yes. But...I cannot say for sure." She watched with pity as Jareth's eyes widened subtly. He'd always known in the theory of it all, but it was only recently that he'd thought of these things as potential reality. He'd always assumed Sarah would concede before ever getting to this point. The idea of her succumbing to the forces of awakening were never once regarded as a realistic, let alone plausible, outcome. Once again, his arrogance had gotten the better of him. So there was a real chance she could die in the awakening, regardless of all this? What in the world had he done? "I suppose then...it would be in both your best interest for her to relinquish such power to you."
"What did you just say?" After all these months of fighting him, or tormenting Sarah and crippling their relationship at every turn, after the atrocity that was their wedding night, after reveling in his decision to abandon such an ambition, she was saying this now? He didn't believe her. She was mocking him again.
"Given the charm you insist she wear, my efforts are limited. I cannot reach the seed she holds. However...I can still withdraw the ambient magic which surrounds her. That should help quell any more serious episodes for the time being." She looked to the floor as she stood. Apparently the conversation was at its end. Jareth, alarmed and suspicious, stood with her.
"You would do that?" he asked. She looked at him with hard eyes.
"It is not a permanent solution by any means, but yes. I told you, for her to awaken now would be precarious and my prerogative, more than anything, is to protect my master. Keep in mind, the loss of ambient magic may also affect any metaphysical wards you've placed on her, as well as incoming magical attacks. Whether they persist through the void, I really cannot say. And if, by some chance, she should physically touch any part of me the connection may be reestablished if she should will it. Do you consent?" She was speaking very sternly but Jareth was only shaking his head. She'd been holding on to this as a last resort. Until now she'd had no motivation to withdraw influence from Sarah, and was a little irritated she'd been backed into revealing such an ability to Jareth.
While Jareth's charm obstructed Liana directly, it was not designed to filter the atmospheric magic around her. Liana had been happy to keep this distinction to herself, but that was now no longer in her best interest, or Sarah's for that matter. Things were always moving just a little too quickly when it came to these two. Liana had enough independence left to narrow the pipe as it were. In this instance a trickle was better than a stream.
"Why is it precarious? What aren't you telling me?"
"Do you understand the stipulations or not?" She wasn't budging on this one. She'd already said more than she'd have liked to. Regardless, this was all he needed to know for now. Jareth sighed through his nose, knowing that no amount of badgering would yield him reward. Liana was keeping a secret. This was nothing new, especially where Sarah was concerned. She had however agreed to help buy him some time, which was something he couldn't afford to pass up on. He wondered what in the hell she was playing at. This wasn't the first time she'd contradicted herself.
"Yes. My protection wards may lose efficacy. If such is the case, I shall simply reinforce them." He was glad he'd decided to put his anti-Liana charm in a physical conduit. As such it didn't need ambient magic to operate, not that that was something he was thinking about at the time. Perhaps he should be proactive and convert other wards as well...
Liana's eyes narrowed dangerously as she turned her back on him, her form fading to shadow and reflected light from the fire.
"You may need to start protecting her the old fashioned way, Goblin King. Don't forget that."
And so here they were. Jareth had crawled back into bed and Sarah was none the wiser. They'd woken and played and went about their days five times over. Nothing had changed. Nothing had happened. As far as he knew, Liana had done as she'd promised. He'd been suspicious and tried throwing simple spells at her to see what would happen. Curiously, some worked to full effect while others were completely nulled. He hoped that would not lead to further problems, but hope was all he could really do on the matter. Thankfully his protection wards seemed to remain fully-functional. He hypothesized that this might be because they were tethering to the magic within Sarah rather than surrounding her. Enchanting physical objects, to the degree required to adequately protect her, would take time, more than he currently had; but, it'd been nearly a week and his existing wards showed no signs of instability, so he was confident enough not to rush the matter. In the meantime, he stared. He watched her like a hawk for any sign of imbalance or eruption. She'd noticed more than once, though she'd interpreted it as flattery.
She was wearing a blood-red bra and he'd just told her she'd look beautiful suffering a heatstroke…
"Right. I forgot about that. Roldan said the castle was carved out of the side of a mountain face, and that mountain also happens to be part of a dormant volcano," she said, thumbing through from hanger to hanger. She'd been envisioning winter garb and so surmised she'd need to close and reopen the armoire to get something less tundric.
"Yes," Jareth said, leaning forward a bit to rest his chin on his knuckles. Sarah closed the doors and opened them once more.
"Annnddd beneath the castle is a natural hot spring...which according to Mariella is one of the great wonders of this world," she said, half-sarcastically. Mariella really did think it was one of the great wonders of the world. Sarah however, doubted her bias.
"It's alright," she heard Jareth say, which made her smirk. He really was grumpy about all of this wasn't he? And yet still he was just going along with it for her sake. It was cute.
"Is there anything fun to do besides that?" she asked, pulling out a lighter dress.
"There are a few outdoor sites worth seeing I suppose, but given the time of year it is mostly a white wasteland. However, Davion does manage to keep his horde well occupied and in good spirits, so I'm sure you'll find some means of entertaining yourself."
"We," she corrected, peering over to him. "I'm sure we will find some means of entertaining ourselves, right?" Jareth smiled. He couldn't help it.
"Yes, love. Forgive me."
Their eyes were locked in a playful way, their lips seemingly curled in the same cheeky grin. Oh how quaint. What Mariella would give to be a fly on the wall.
"What about this one then?" she asked, holding up a new gown. This one was silk, a light champagne color with coral and deep red accents. It had thin lace straps and a tiered flowy skirt. To her it seemed both station and weather appropriate.
"I think you'd be just as well in what you're currently wearing. You certainly wouldn't sweat as much. However, I wouldn't consider that a bad thing either."
"Tsk. Your vulgarity has lost its edge. That one didn't even phase me," she said, turning her nose up at him and holding out the dress to inspect it closer. Yes. This seemed like the one. Now all she had to do was put it on and they could-
Jareth's hand reaching out and taking the hanger from hers surprised her, though she let go of it effortlessly. He hung it on the back of the door and turned her towards him. She stared up at him challengingly, expecting a snarky comeback. Instead, he grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her.
She held her arms up, not quite sure why his kiss was so ardent. Was it something she said? Was the build-up of her parading around in her lingerie getting to him? She laughed into his kiss at the thought but he ignored it. Her hands clutched his biceps when he suddenly reached down and hoisted her by the ass, wrapping her legs around his hips.
"Whoa there," she said, pulling away slightly. Her hands moved to brush the hair from his face. She was a little higher than him now and stared down into those crisp baby-blues.
"Don't forget: if things go the way I expect them to go, I was the one who said we should stay here." He kissed the corner of her jaw and her neck arched accordingly. His hands groped and moved up her backside, and she squeezed his hips tighter in response. If he was trying to prolong the inevitable, she'd let him win this one.
She breathed heavily as a hand reached up and pulled down the strap on her slip and bra, soon replaced by provocative nips, and she reached up into his hair. He stepped forward and dropped her on the bed, pushing himself into her as he did so. She gasped breathily as she ground into his erection.
His mouth sucked on her bosom while he undid his pants, eager to be inside her, and she obliged him by spreading her legs wider. He pulled her underwear to the side and slid into her deeply, effortlessly, pushing her up the bed as he rooted a foot to the floor and pulled out to thrust back in again.
Sarah moaned, her voice high. He'd come onto her so suddenly, which only seemed to make it more erotic. He was thrusting into her long and deep, his arm braced beneath her back, his weight holding her down. She stared up at the canopy covering her bed and went virtually limp. He felt so good. Too good. She was being selfish by simply enjoying it. The sound of his own moans made her hotter, and so she reached up and dug her nails into his back.
"Fuck, Jareth-" She gasped and arched her back, her legs circled around him and her heels pressed into his lower back. His free hand found her face and hooked two fingers around her teeth to jerk her towards him. His mouth took hers hard, messily, and they moaned into one another. He moved to press his knee into the bed as she inched further up it, and she felt him delve deeper at the new angle. She was approaching climax fast. She didn't know how much longer she could hold out-
"Don't you dare," Jareth warned, hooking his hands under her shoulders and hoisting her up the bed. "Davion isn't expecting us until evening. We have all day." Sarah smiled and threw her head back. He really was insufferable.
*Knock Knock*
Mariella stood outside Sarah's door. She'd been by several times now, but knew she wasn't quite ready. She was hoping they'd be well put together by now. It was almost time to go and she was quite looking forward to seeing Lord Davion again.
When she heard no response she withdrew her crystal once more. It wasn't glowing, which meant all should be well…
She was surprised when the door suddenly opened. Sarah was standing before her and immediately her eyes darted to the crystal amulet in her hands.
"Mariella? What is that?" Sarah asked, opening the door wider to usher her in. Mariella accepted the invitation, though she fiddled her amulet with embarrassment. Oh my, that had been tactless.
"Oh, it's nothing much really. Just a trinket handy to lady's maids," she said, shrugging and holding it out for Sarah to see.
"What does it do?" she asked, closing the door behind her. Mariella sensed His Majesty still in the room. His presence made her a bit nervous, so she hesitated before responding. Normally the crystal glowed when they were together. Strange it had been silent just now...
"Well, to put it plainly it serves as a do-not-disturb sign," she said, to which Sarah scowled. Mariella laughed. "Sarah, have you wondered why I never seem to bother you when you are otherwise...indisposed?" she asked, smiling suggestively. Sarah blinked, not immediately catching on. Huh, that was true wasn't it? And no, she'd never thought of that. She and Jareth spent a lot of time together and, as she thought back, Mariella indeed never once interrupted them. She only ever showed up when Sarah called for her or when she was conveniently alone…
"Um…" she stammered. Mariella filled the gap.
"See this?" she said, holding up the clear crystal for Sarah to inspect. "If you are free to receive me, it stays clear. If you are busy with another guest, or simply do not wish for my company, it glows white. If you are not in the room at all it turns opaque," she explained, which drew a great deal of interest from Sarah.
"Oh wow, that's handy. I guess that would be useful to a lady's maid. But how...does it know if I'm not in the mood to see anybody?" she asked. Mariella shrugged.
"It's part of the enchantment. Magic does as we devise it to do."
"Huh…" Sarah said, pursing her lips as she handed it back to her. What a nifty little thing, she thought. Magic really was capable of just about anything, wasn't it?
"So, are you about ready to leave? Do you need further help packing?" Mariella asked. Sarah peered back as she moved into the room and shook her head.
"No. I already had the bags you packed yesterday sent down. We're only staying for a couple of days. I can't imagine I'll need much." Mariella laughed.
"Sarah, you're a Queen. You'll need the world." Sarah huffed and reached for a dull red, long-sleeved cloak, and pulled it on. There were several buttons down the front, which effectively covered her otherwise bare chest and made her just a bit more conservative for her first public appearance as Queen. "Is that what you're wearing?" Mariella asked. Sarah looked down over herself.
"Yeah...Jareth says it's going to be hot, but the cloak is silk and I figure I can always take it off if I get too steamy," she explained, having felt the need to appear slightly more regal than usual. Mariella grinned. "Why, do you think it looks bad?"
"My, no. Not at all. I think it's perfect. I'm simply proud you were able to put together such an outfit yourself," she said, which garnered a sated little smile from Sarah.
"She does look quite elegant, doesn't she?"
Mariella turned and inadvertently stared straight at Jareth. She averted her eyes immediately, knowing she was still out of favor with him after the whole sending-secret-correspondence-to-Davion ordeal… She was hoping they might make amends one day. She had after all, stopped reporting to him on Sarah quite some time ago.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Quite right." She smiled and stepped aside, holding her hands out in front of her as she ought to. While His Majesty had been acknowledging her a bit more lately, and with good cheer at that, he was still clearly disinterested in starting any real conversation with her. Sarah huffed through her nose while she smiled at him. It still startled Mariella, how well they were now getting on and how plainly happy Sarah had become.
"Well, shall we be off then?" Sarah asked, quirking a brow and turning towards Mariella. She took Mariella's arm, an Aboveground sign of friendship that Mariella was not yet familiar with, and a show that she need not be the third wheel between her and Jareth. Mariella laughed nervously with Jareth at their back, though he didn't seem to mind. "Are you excited? I know you've been wanting to see Davion," Sarah asked, as they walked down the hall. Mariella smiled and patted her arm.
"Oh yes. I do find myself missing his good humor from time to time." Sarah chuckled, thinking to herself that that wasn't really what she was talking about; but, for as sexually active as Sarah knew Marie was, she hardly ever spoke provocatively. She was a very genuine soul, which often had Sarah wondering, quite lewdly at that, what she could possibly be like in the bedroom that would make her Davion's favorite courtesan.
They were nearing the hall which housed the alleyway, a space that connected Jareth's castle to Davion's. It made for easy access, considering just how far away Fort Fyrn was. Sarah had initially asked to travel traditionally, to which Jareth was quick to inform her it would be over a three month journey by carriage -even with lipsgates. This shocked Sarah, as she'd learned from Roldan's lessons that lipsgates- "are portals that connect long distances, as any individual fae can only travel so far by their own magic alone. Lipsgates are permanent, public travel spaces that can link thousands upon thousands of miles." Sarah had made the comparison to a wormhole, though that was a term Roldan had of course never heard of. He had gone on to mention that she would get to experience one soon enough, as several were almost always required when traveling outside the city limits. The continent was simply that vast.
But for now, they were taking the backdoor. Which, as anti-climatic as it was, made more sense. Jareth had promised, however, to take her outside to view the full effect of Fort Fyrn, which was all she really wanted out of the excursion anyway.
"Oh look, Master Roldan is here to meet us. So like him to be early," Marie said, bouncing up on her toes as she waved to him. He was leaning against a wall, watching with disregard as the goblins situated everyone's luggage.
"Oh. Roldan, are you coming too?" Sarah asked. Roldan quirked a brow and straightened. He didn't look very happy. Not that he ever did.
"So it would seem," he said, waving a flippant hand through the air. Sarah released Mariella's arm, who was quick to scuttle and help the goblins. Jareth rejoined her at her side.
"Does that displease you?" Jareth asked, having caught her furrowed brow. She looked up to him unexpectedly.
"What? No. I'm just surprised. Who's going to watch the castle?" she asked and Jareth laughed. Sarah glared. He didn't even try to stop himself.
"Watch the castle? Afraid it's going to run away?" he asked. Roldan rolled his eyes, giving in to recross his arms.
"Don't be an ass. You know what I mean. What if something important happens while we're gone? Who's going to handle it?" Somewhere, behind all the layers of deep-rooted aggravation, Roldan was actually touched that she thought highly enough of him to run the kingdom in Jareth's stead. He did not respond with this however. Instead he watched as Jareth continued to tease her.
"Probably the council. That is partially what they are for. Delegation is key to any successful leadership," he said. Sarah snarled a bit. She didn't like being made a fool of for caring.
"I guess I didn't think you trusted the goblins that much," she said. Jareth shrugged.
"Was it not you who said I ought to put more stock in their abilities? Besides, if I'm indeed needed all someone has to do is pass through this door and shout. Did you forget already?"
"While that's all well and good, I still don't see why you're making me go," Roldan interrupted. Both Sarah and Jareth looked over to him. There was a certain emphasis on the word making, and a certain glare directed at Jareth that she recognized all too well.
"You're making him go?" Sarah asked, about to intercede on Roldan's behalf and say he didn't have to go anywhere he didn't want to. They'd been getting along better since their talk. She didn't want to see him regress again. Jareth shrugged, not caring the least bit for her sentimentality.
"If I have to go it only makes sense that he should too. After all, we are both equally passionate in our opposition," Jareth explained, which was the pettiest thing she'd ever heard. She shook her head and rose her hands in disbelief. "Oh come now," Jareth said, not wanting to see her flustered for Roldan's sake. "He was just there not too long ago-"
"Exactly. I was just there."
"-And as such your business is done. This shall be a pleasure trip, a change of pace as it were." He was bullshitting and wasn't even trying to make it convincing. Roldan scowled, pouting as he imagined another 48 hours in Davion's den of sin. It was bad enough he had to be stuck there for a week during the quarterly review, but this...without a royal agenda what the hell was he expected to do? "I'm sure you'll find some way of pleasuring yourself Roldan. That is, after all, one of my brother's specialties." Sarah's eyes slowly roamed from Jareth to Roldan, having sensed a new and definite tension spark from Jareth's provocation. She was missing something. Jareth had been speaking in mysterious innuendos all day, though she'd written them off as more of the usual jive. Was there something dastardly going on at Davion's castle that Jareth was setting her up to experience for herself? She started to feel a little bit nervous when Mariella returned to break through the tension.
"Alright, I believe we're all set. Shall we pass on through?!"
The alleyway wasn't an alleyway. There was a door that opened to a fully enclosed corridor, with no windows or outside light of any kind. It was narrow, so Sarah and Mariella entered first, followed by Jareth and Roldan and finally the goblins. Sarah had asked if her guard would be accompanying her, but Jareth said that was unnecessary. It seemed he was all the protection she needed. At the end of the corridor was a door identical to the one they'd entered through. They stopped and Mariella stepped forward to open it for her.
"Are you ready?" She whispered, with a hushed giggle. "We're going to have so much fun!"
She opened the door and it creaked loudly, the acoustics of the next room giving the sound a fierce resonance. Sarah entered first, followed by Mariella and the rest. She took a few steps and waited for Jareth to join her at her side. The goblins went straight to work, hauling their luggage off to the side where they would not be seen.
"Um...so this is it?" The letdown in Sarah's voice was almost comical and actually did earn a small smirk from Jareth. Mariella scuttled over to the goblins and she heard Roldan sigh heavily from behind them.
"I told you to temper your expectations. It's not quite the same effect as entering from the main gate." Jareth was peering around with her, as if the room was something new to him.
It was a large space, square, with textured stone tiles on the floor and wood planks lining the walls. The ceiling had to be a good thirty feet high and several terrifyingly large chandeliers hung heavily from slick iron chains. There were many light fixtures decorating the walls, but not even all that could keep the room properly lit. It was dark and gloomy, and the air...it kept her nose cold but her hands clammy.
"That is the gate, if you were wondering," Jareth said, pointing over to what Sarah had thought was a wall. It wasn't.
"Huh? That's the door? Why is it so massive?" It was nearly as large as the wall itself, made from heavy beams of wood and metal. Jareth shrugged.
"Couldn't say. This place was built well before my time."
"Well before anyone's time," Roldan said, tying his hair up into a ponytail as Sarah turned to look over at him. He was wearing one of his signature velvet coats and she wondered how long that would last if the temperature became anything like Jareth described. "Do you think he'll actually greet us?" he continued, throwing Jareth an eye. Sarah looked around the room once more. It didn't feel like they'd traveled thousands of miles. The walls, and all their adornments, were too dark to see clearly and there were no windows. Maybe there was a door just ahead of them? She couldn't tell.
"Given that Sarah is here I'm sure he'll make quite a show of himself," Jareth said, glancing down to the goblins and gesturing curtly in an arbitrary direction, apparently signaling they get a move on.
"Please Jareth, you think me without taste?"
Sarah was startled by the sound of Davion, even more so by his immediate appearance by Jareth's side. She was the only one to have such a reaction. Davion smiled and stepped around Jareth, giving him a lingering impish eye.
"All things in their due time," he said and quickly turned his attention to Sarah. "Sarah, my dear, sweetest sister. I am humbled and so grateful you have accepted my invitation. You are a bright vision to this dark and dreary place," he said, bowing to her and taking her hand to give it a playful kiss. Sarah was trying not to scowl, still caught off guard by his ambush. "I will do everything to make sure you enjoy your stay here, thoroughly." He straightened and looked her in the eye. She looked away quickly, minding her manners. The connivery was obvious, but it was also something she'd expected. It'd been two seconds and he was already testing her. So this was to be a game, was it? Maybe Jareth was right. Maybe it was too soon to come here.
"Of course. I've taken a great interest in this place. Mariella speaks very highly of it." She kept her gaze peering through him and withdrew her hand from his tactfully. If Davion was trying to test her, she would do her best to prove herself his equal.
"She is too kind," he said, otherwise ignoring the very existence of his...ex-girlfriend? Was that the right term? He took a step back and gestured to the space around him. His hair was braided as it had been every other time she'd seen him, and it fell over his shoulder as his head dipped. "I hope you'll forgive the dull welcome; my brother tends to prefer discretion and I figured you could do without the grand spectacle of a formal announcement," he explained, gesturing flippantly around the room. "But might you permit me the honor of escorting you in? This vestibule is hardly hospitable." Sarah nodded and chose to step toward him and offer him her arm. It was fae custom that the woman assume dominance in a social exchange, and she thought maybe this might convey she was serious about the respect her stature afforded her. She did not make this decision lightly however, as she knew it would be safer to cling to Jareth. With that said, she did not so much as peer back to him for encouragement or permission. No, she held her head high and caught Davion's eye as he accepted her gesture. She was no longer on Jareth's arm and wanted to convey she knew exactly how to behave. They began to walk through the room, and Davion threw Jareth a very excited look discreetly over his shoulder.
They'd turned and were now heading towards the far left of the room. There was an archway and beyond it another foyer. This one housed a grand staircase, at the top of which stood a very ornate set of double doors, illuminated by large torches on either side. Jareth had yet to speak and in a sense this worried Sarah. She'd taken the lead which meant she was on her own. She hoped Davion couldn't sense her trepidation. Mariella and Roldan followed close behind and she could hear the muffled sound of their footsteps resounding in the deep space of the room.
"I think you'll find this place quite to your liking," Davion said, breaking the silence as they moved up the stairs. "It is...much friendlier than what you're used to, I imagine." Sarah glanced at him, which apparently to him was encouragement to continue. "I keep a number of fae servants, rather than goblins. I find the sophistication much more desirable."
"I don't find the company of goblins to be lacking," Sarah said, rather tersely. Davion smiled and conceded.
"Indeed. I suppose it is good then that you are the Queen of Goblins."
Davion was surprised by her residual annoyance with him. It wasn't something he was used to in women. Perhaps it was that which gave her amor, as he'd also expected her to be well pressed under his brother's thumb by now. T'was an interesting turn things had taken and they hadn't even sat down to dinner.
"I know our accordance said evening, but I had hoped you would have come earlier in the day. Thankfully you have not yet missed dinner. We've prepared a real treat for our honored guests tonight."
"I see. I've no doubt it will be most splendid." Sarah bit her tongue and rolled her eyes. She was starting to talk like Jareth and knew that to everyone but Davion it would be a tell of how nervous she was. Jareth was still behind her, quiet as a mouse. The thought of what he may be thinking behind her back had her worrying most of all.
Surprisingly, they did not enter the alluring set of doors at the top of the stairs. Instead they continued right, down a hall and then down many others.
"May I ask where you are taking us?"
Davion smiled, something she caught from her peripheral if for no other reason than how closely it resembled Jareth's.
"To your rooms, of course," he said. "You'll be needing time to settle in before dinner, I imagine...and to change." There was something left hanging on the end of his tongue as he'd said that, leaving Sarah to worry over whether her choice in attire was not entirely up to snuff. She reflexively peered down over herself but recovered quickly and brushed the comment away with a smile.
"How considerate."
She said nothing more after that and neither did he. Neither did anyone, which resulted in, to Sarah, a rather uncomfortable silence. The halls were just as dim as the vestibule and the walls, slick with condensation, glistened the light of the many torches they passed by. It was starting to get a little warmer, a slight strain growing at the hollow of her neck where her cloak hung heaviest.
Her eyes, unable to help themselves, traveled this way and that. She tried, several times, to look at something other than Davion, but his proximity made it difficult. His attire made it impossible.
He was not dressed in any way even remotely akin to any fae she had yet seen, and she wondered if he'd done so to purposely throw her off her game. He was wearing mesh. Sheer, silver, translucent mesh that left nothing to the imagination. His shirt was loose, the front and back halves tied together with a knot at each shoulder and two down his sides. There were no sleeves, and he wore wide metal cuffs around his biceps and forearms. His pants were taupe and cinched at the knee, and he was barefoot. He was passive-aggressively critiquing her outfit and he was mother-fucking barefoot. What? Every time her eyes darted over she would catch a new glimpse of his torso, the contour of his chest, the darkened disks of his nipples. He was shorter than Jareth and not as lean, though he did have some muscle. That probably wasn't something she should be noting right now. Instead she wondered if this was really what he wore on a daily basis, if this was what he intended to wear for a formal gathering of honorable guests. At the very least he was clothed. That much could be said.
Realizing she would need to be more on guard here than expected, she turned her attention away from Davion entirely and took in as much of the sights as she could before he sparked another conversation. For how dark Davion's castle was, there was surprisingly much more to look at than at Jareth's. There were impressive suits of armour at regular intervals, glass display cases filled with trinkets, and paintings that lined the walls one after another, breaking up the endless black stone that engulfed them. It was the paintings that caught her interest most of all, for they were not something she often saw in the capitol.
They were portraits. Not landscapes or battles or stills or creatures, but traditional portraits. There were certain parts of Jareth's castle that were decorated quite ornately, but even still the only place she'd even seen a portrait was in Roldan's secret storage room. She remembered Marie telling her once that Davion housed many portraits of late family members, and she then began to wonder who these visages were of, why they were displayed so prominently here, if those were questions that were in fact more important than she initially regarded.
It was then that she was pulled from her daze when Davion's pace slowed. They stopped and he turned towards her, obstructing her view just as her eyes landed on something potentially monumental-
"Well, here we are. The finest room in the house," he said. He was smiling down at her and she realized she was scowling. She twitched ever-so-subtly and relaxed her features, returning his grin with fervor.
"Excellent. I thank you kindly for your escort...Davion."
"Please, call me Brother," he said and somehow made it seem whole-heartedly lewd. Sarah gave a weak, forced huff of laughter and looked down and over to Jareth. Davion then released her arm and stepped back to allow Jareth to take his place. He did so, wordlessly, and only when their eyes met did Sarah realize her fumble. All that time he hadn't said a word. No one had said a single word. And that was because she'd forgotten to permit him -any of them- to speak. Fuck. Jareth had said things ran more casually here, like in the Goblin City, so she had assumed that had also meant suspension of this confusing tap dance of matriarchal conversational bullshit. And yet she'd been so on point with exactly when, and when not, to make eye-contact.
"Jareth," she said, with a nervous, flighty upturn to her voice, utterly ignoring Davion's suggestion. Jareth peered down and the corner of his mouth turned shrewdly. So he'd known? He was waiting for her to realize it? What an ass! She inhaled through her nose and recomposed herself. Luckily for her, they were the only ones, apparently, who thought anything of it. "I don't believe you've extended our gratitude. We are so very happy to be here, aren't we?" See, she could mess with him too. Jareth's eyes narrowed but his smile stretched.
"Yes. We are indeed," he said, less than sincerely, and turned to raise his brow at Davion. He smiled, some unknown dialogue passing between them. It looked as if they might say more, but at the last minute Davion changed his mind and instead turned his attention to Roldan and Mariella.
"Quite. Well then, shall I escort the lot of you next?" he asked, extending his hand to Mariella. She took it readily. "I have a little treat for you, dear," he said to her, in not quite a whisper. "Your very own room. No dormitory for you this round." Sarah saw a light brighten in Marie's eyes but she did not respond verbally. Instead she smiled from ear to ear and squeezed onto his arm. Sarah opened her mouth to speak, to awkwardly permit Marieand Roldan to partake in the conversation, but was distracted by Jareth abruptly opening the door to their room behind her. She twirled around, feeling the compulsion to follow him inside. "Dinner will be served in one hour. Shall I fetch you when-"
"I know the way."
Sarah peered back to Jareth as he interrupted his brother, her jaw tensing at how curt his tone was. Davion however seemed unphased and simply bowed his head in acknowledgement. Without another word he turned his cheerful attentions to Mariella and led her away, Roldan, still silent and perturbed, trailing steadily behind. Sarah, not realizing she was across the threshold, blinked as Jareth promptly shut the door in her face.
"Oh...Okay," she said, quietly to herself, and turned to look over the room. It was small. Well, smaller than what she'd become used to. Thick tapestries hung from the walls and delicate furniture cluttered just about every open space. Almost directly in front of her was the bed, always large and expertly fluffed, with four posts and heavy velvet curtains tied back with golden rope. To the far corner, on the right, was a fireplace with two chairs positioned closely in front. To the left of it was a door, which she assumed led to a washroom. And...that was really it. Honestly, not what she was expecting from the finest room in the house.
"Is it everything you were hoping for?" Jareth asked. He was across from her, sitting on the edge of the bed as he unbuttoned his coat. He was staring at her, apparently her expression had been less than guarded. She took a step towards him.
"Hoping? Uh...I wasn't really hoping for anything. It is however not...as I imagined." She felt awkward, and reached for the button at her throat as well. It was definitely heating up and she was starting to get a little toasty. She took off her cloak and draped it over a nearby chair. Her hand lingered a moment, distracted by Jareth.
He'd taken off his coat and tossed it on the bed. Although he hadn't stopped there. He'd also removed his cravat and untied the first two knots down the front of his shirt. Next he took off his gloves and unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and rolled them each to the elbow, where she then saw leather straps which he used to secure said sleeves higher to his shoulder. They were imprinted with gold studs which matched his belt -his royal sigil prominently displayed on the buckle. The look was completed by tying his hair back with a ribbon. He was looking very much male, and watching him had made her feel...some things.
"Are you alright?" She blinked and realized he was staring at her again, though for the first time ever was oblivious to the manner of tension curling her toes. This was bad. They'd already had sex like...three times that day. Why was she so aroused right now? She briefly wondered what manner of apocalypse would befall her home world should all men dress as tantalizing as he.
"What? Yeah. I'm fine," she said, turning away from him sharply and smoothing out her dress. She was a great deal cooler now, though the hair at her nape had already stuck to her neck and so she debated whether or not to tie it back as well…
"We could always just stay here, you know," she heard him say and glanced back to find he had turned towards her, one leg bent and resting on the bed. That damn buckle was like a beacon and his posture looked altogether...inviting. Goddamn it.
"Uh, I don't think so," she said. Moving over to sit in front of a vanity that was just so conveniently close by. She stared into the mirror and grabbed her hair, twisting it up into a bun before realizing she had nothing to tie it with.
"If you insist…" Jareth said, begrudgingly, and moved to stand behind her. She was surprised when he took her jumbled hair from her hands and began working it himself, and was even more surprised when the end result was something quite lovely. Had he...where did he get those pins from?
"Oh...Thanks," she said, awkwardly, and turned to look up at him. He looked bored. She frowned then, hoping he would find some degree of enjoyment over the weekend -for her if nothing else. "Sorry I didn't invite you all. I kind of forgot we were playing by house rules." Jareth cracked a smile and squeezed her shoulders before moving away. She turned in her chair to follow him.
"It's alright," he said, sitting back on the edge of the bed. "It was probably for the best anyway. You did well asserting your new position. While I doubt Davion took you seriously, he at least took note of it."
"Oh, well mission accomplished, I guess," she said, sarcastically. Jareth huffed, crossing his arms as he grinned.
"That was nothing compared to the dinner I'm sure he has planned. Are you sure you can handle it?"
"I don't think I have much of a choice," Sarah said, poutingly. Her eyes narrowed on him a bit as she spoke. He was picking on her, but his words were still valid. "It's still going to be just me and you this weekend, right?" she asked, to which he tilted his head. "After tonight at least? I mean, I know Davion is our host so we have to see him, but I was hoping it would mainly just be me and you...showing me around and everything." She felt a little embarrassed then, perhaps even naive, asking for his attention like that. She knew however he was not the type to mind, and so she fluttered her lashes accordingly. Jareth ran his tongue along the back of his teeth, fighting the urge to poke further fun at her. She was trying to handle him, and in a manner he found most desirable.
"If that is your wish…"
"It is," she replied, a little too readily. Her eyes were intent on his face, though his had already fallen over her.
The gown she'd picked out suited her well. It was fair colored and in the ambient light closely resembled that of her skin. It shone with a reflective glare, highlighting the contour of her bosom on the side adjacent the fire. Dark red accents lined down her bodice, little bows and frills and such each begging attention from his wolfish gaze. He thought about taking her there, making her worthless for dinner and sequestering them both to this drab little apartment. He didn't think she would mind. If the shameless look in her eye and parting of her lips were any indication.
Sarah bit her lip and gripped the table behind her as she contended. Jareth was wearing her favorite look, partially disheveled and tauntingly bare. Her eyes traveled down the cord of the medallion he often wore around his neck and became lost as it dipped under the hem of his shirt. Her finger tapped impatiently and then she stood swiftly to her feet.
"Well...I don't know about you, but I am starving," she said, unconvincingly, and tore her eyes away from him. The last thing she needed was to be smelling freshly-fucked in front of all those judging fae. No, not on her big debut. She needed to make a decent impression and was perfectly capable of holding off until after dinner.
"I could eat," she heard Jareth say with, (un)shockingly, the same vulgar incitement recently wielded by his brother. "Are you ready then?" He'd stood and stepped towards her, his arm reaching past her for the door.
"Yeah, I suppose. Am I dressed okay? Davion also said it wouldn't be ready for an hour-"
"You look delectable, Sarah," Jareth said, and she peered up to him sharply. He was giving her that 'cut the crap' look he aimed at her so often. "A word of advice, do not take anything my brother says to you to heart, no matter how trivial. You would look stunning in a burlap sack, and honestly my opinion is the only one that really matters. I am after all, The King," he added, locking eyes with her for emphasis. Yeah, he kind of had a point there. Her perspective was often skewed in that regard. To her Jareth was Jareth, but to everyone else he was the absolute authority in every way. Hm. "Secondly," he continued, leaning down towards her with a one-sided grin. "You are The Queen. Dinner will be ready when you say it is." He cocked a brow and opened the door, and she took his arm with both her hands. It was good to feel his bare skin against hers, to feel the pulse in his arm calm and steady beneath her nervous palms.
"Gotcha."
They entered the hall and she hesitated. Jareth, having closed the door behind them, was oblivious and accidently jerked her a little when he tried to walk them down the hall.
"Jareth, wait," she said and he turned back towards her. She had a worried look on her face.
"What?"
"This painting-" she started and looked towards the wall in front of them. Jareth eased up and followed her gaze. She didn't see his fist tighten at his side. "Is this...who I think it is?" Jareth's jaw tensed. He hadn't realized Davion had moved this particular painting. No doubt he put it here on purpose. Well, if this was to be the most irksome of the weekend's provocations then he'd consider it a blessing. Sadly, he highly doubted it.
"That depends on who you think it is."
Sarah pursed her lips and peered back at him. He was playing it off well enough but she knew he was annoyed. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything.
The portrait was of a man, a very affluent and robust looking man. He was middle-aged but had a certain distinction about him that made him feel far older. His hair was blond, though darker than Jareth's, and he had a well-trimmed beard. He was heavier-set but not obese, and he had striking blue eyes.
If it wasn't for the darkness of the hall she might not have noticed it right away. Everything was so deep and rich and shadowed, everything but those eyes, which caught the light of the torches beside it and contrasted greatly. She knew that gaze, that intensity. They were just like Jareth's.
"That's your father, isn't it?"
She looked away from the painting and up to Jareth, curious of his expression. It was vacant yet terse. She imagined this was something he did not really want her to see and the fact that it was placed directly outside their room meant that whoever placed it had done so with the hope of sparking some ire. Score one for Davion.
"It is. Is the resemblance that striking?" Jareth asked, cracking a disingenuous smirk as he continued to stare at it. Sarah frowned. She knew how much he resented his father and worried that simply seeing his likeness now would be enough to ruin the evening. Maybe it wasn't such an extreme measure then...having removed all the portraits the way he did.
"Why do you say it like that?" she asked, having sensed his tone. Jareth shrugged and looked away.
"They say I take after him, while Davion was graced with the more feminine features of our mother," he said, which Sarah recalled he had told her once before. Reading between the lines, she knew that taking after him meant something more than physicality, and that was something he also took great resentment in, maybe even to the point of self-loathing. Now regretting having brought it up at all, she took one last look at dear-old-dad and turned them both away.
"Your eyes are both blue, which was the only thing I really noticed. I'd say the similarity ends there." She lied, blatantly, as anyone with eyes could plainly see Jareth was in fact the spitting image of his father. She spoke assuredly however, with her arm firmly locked in his and her head held high. He took some relief in that and appreciated the gesture all the same. He remembered a time, not too long ago, when she would never, ever, go out of her way to say a single word for his benefit. Now look at them, communicating in ways more intimate than words on matters he never before felt risk in sharing.
"Those other portraits we passed by, are those family members too?"
"Mostly, yes." He could feel she wanted to probe him further but was tactfully refraining. He peered down and saw a subtle pout marring her features. He didn't like seeing her worried. He'd rather her smile. "Would you like an introduction tomorrow?" he asked and felt a modicum of ease when her reaction was filled with intrigue.
"Really? Yes actually. I'd really like that." She was surprised he'd offered. Roldan had painted a very clear picture of just how much effort Jareth had put into forgetting his past. Maybe he was just being polite. Maybe she should tell him never mind…
They reached the door to the dining hall and paused before it. Jareth turned and used that final moment of seclusion to take her in. She looked nervous, a meek little thing with rosey round lips and a knitted brow. She glanced up at him, wondering why he was just standing there, her eyes large and unwittingly innocent. He smiled then, grateful for the privilege of being seen by her. He hoped she'd always look to him, always him, and only him.
"I love you," he said, and held back a laugh at the look of utter shock that fell over her just as the doors were flung open.
The doors were opened for them by two guards who then stood back and bowed deeply. Sarah, completely blindsided by Jareth's statement, could only turn said gape towards her audience and painstakingly forced the most practiced and complacent of expressions onto her face.
She had heard nothing as they stood in the hall. However, once the doors were opened, a flood of commotion and revelry descended upon them. The room was deep, a traditional feast hall featuring two long tables extending away from them with a series of rustic chandeliers hanging above. On the far end was a raised stage showcasing the head table and behind it several very ornately carved chairs. That was all she could really see, as she was caught off guard again by the overwhelming sounds of merrymaking.
There were a lot of people. A lot. Many more than she was expecting. She knew Davion employed many courtesans, but really? The room was packed full of fae. Surely they weren't all his lovers? And there were men. Not as many as there were women, but still a fair number. And they were all dressed similarly to Davion. The women contrasted in loose-fitting rags that draped, and clung, and just barely covered their more delicate areas. She saw many legs, and many shoulders, and many brazenly bare feet. And they were beautiful. They were all so ridiculously, inconceivably beautiful. Sarah's arm tightened around Jareth's nervously, for as soon as the doors opened did every trace of that deafening sound fall silent and all those terrible, lovely faces turned their gazes straight to her.
It was dead silent for an agonizing moment.
"Ah! You're here!" Sarah's heart skipped a beat and her wide eyes darted upward to the table at the back. There was Davion, sitting, and now standing, from one of the chairs. He was smiling widely and held his arms outstretched to match. He jumped up, walked over the table rather than around it, and marched gaily towards them. "My dear friends, won't you please welcome our most esteemed guests?" He spoke to his harem as he walked between them down the center aisle of the room, bowing and gesturing dramatically as he did so. Sarah gulped down her fear and steeled her expression. She wasn't sure what Jareth's was. She knew her strength would falter should she look at him. "My brother. Your king. And his new, most exquisite young wife." By now he had reached the two of them and rose the couple of steps that separated them. Sarah eyed him while he took her hand. He kissed it and bowed gallantly, crossed his free arm behind his back and kneeled before her. Her eyes followed when he stood, held her hand high with his, and turned to face the crowd. He really was making a show of himself. "I present to you, for the first time, your Queen. Sarah, of the Aboveground." Oh, was that her official title? She wasn't sure, but didn't ponder it long as all the courtly fae then dropped in succession and bowed. "Long live the Queen," they said in tandem. She didn't like that. It made her uncomfortable to say the least.
"Um...Jareth?" she whispered, stealing a peek up at him. His look was sympathetic but urged decorum. She looked away and bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn't sure what to do, if she was meant to say or do anything. She was forgetting everything.
"May I escort you to your seat?" Davion asked and she peered at him with a nod. He smiled and curled his grip around her hand. She wondered if this was right. It felt like Jareth should be taking the lead, or at least she should be walking with him, yet as Davion led her down the steps he was content to trail behind. The crowd remained bowed as they walked past and Davion brought her round to the throne at the center of the table. She approached it skeptically, having assumed this chair was meant for Jareth. He however took the seat to her right and Davion the one to her left. They waited for her cue and sat at the same time, and only then did the harem rise and resume their festivity.
Sarah crossed her hands in her lap and fiddled them anxiously. She was sitting straighter than she'd ever sat before and kept her eyes averted from any one person. Eyeing her trepidation, Jareth reached over and grasped one of her hands.
"Relax. You're doing fine. That was about as cursory as a royal introduction can get," he whispered and she looked over to him worriedly.
"I haven't done anything," she mumbled.
"Exactly. You should try to avoid embarrassing yourself, but you also have nothing to prove. Don't strain yourself by trying too hard." That helped her relax a little, surprisingly. Her grip on his hand eased and she took a deep breath. It was easier at the ball. No one had noticed her. She had a strict itinerary then, was primped and decorated and not herself. But here, she felt laid bare and at the mercy of her new official title, of the control she was meant to assume over everything. She looked away from Jareth and out over the crowd. At least she wasn't being forced to mingle.
"I just wasn't expecting there to be so many people, I guess."
"Yes, I have raised quite the commune, haven't I?" Davion chimed in completely out of turn. Sarah turned and shot him an eye, almost having forgotten he was sitting right next to her. He was turned towards her with an arm strewn along the table. He was grinning, but now eased back and reached for his chalice.
"Are they...all courtesans?" Sarah asked, wondering if it was appropriate to do so. Davion grinned into his cup.
"Of course. Except for the guards. Well, maybe not all the guards." The way his tongue traced the rim of his cup as he gazed across the room had a blush blooming on Sarah's cheeks. Geez, what a slut, she thought, and was admittedly impressed. How in the world could he keep up with servicing this many people? As she glanced over the room she suspected they probably serviced each other.
"I see. I guess this is what you meant when you said there was a difference in culture here?" she asked, peering back to Jareth. Before he could respond, Davion laughed.
"Is that how he put it? My how tepid." He leaned back in his chair and took another sip. His eyes darted down and he smiled anew. "Oh, you're wearing your shoes."
Sarah blinked then glanced down. Yes. She was. That's when she remembered she was supposed to be barefoot at social gatherings. Suddenly everyone else's noticeable lack thereof made sense. Why hadn't Jareth said anything?
"Oh. Sorry. Should I take them off now?" she asked, haphazardly kicking off her slip-ons and pushing them under her chair discreetly.
"Jareth?" Davion asked, in amusement. Sarah's head turned from one side to the other. Jareth's face was in his cup and he looked, quite plainly, irritated.
"No," was all he said, leaving Sarah to surmise he was in fact against removing his boots and stooping to their level. Hm. She glanced back to Davion. He was still chuckling.
"So, where are Roldan and Mariella?" she asked.
"Who knows? Arriving soon, I imagine. I did give you an hour's reprieve." He 'tsked her with a finger and she furrowed her brow. "I had hoped to be considerate, though it seems you sought not to take advantage." Her brow continued to draw tighter until she realized the innuendo. On instinct she glared and recoiled slightly.
"You're a little too familiar, I think," she said, kicking herself for coming off like a prude. She knew that was something he may well use against her later. He watched as she kept her eyes averted, apparently annoyed with him all over again, and he took the moment to peer down and saw that she and Jareth were still holding hands. Aw. How quaint.
"Brother!" he called out, looking past Sarah to Jareth -who did his best to ignore him. "Did you hear that? She says I'm too familiar. And here I was despairing I'm not familiar enough."
"You should appreciate that we're here at all," Jareth said, shooting him a stern side-eye. He took another sip of his wine, leaving Sarah wondering if she might do better to try and calm her nerves with her own.
"Yes, yes. I am greatly humbled. It is very rare indeed that my brother should grace this wretched place." He spoke quietly to himself at the end, or maybe that was directed at Sarah. She wasn't sure. Not knowing what else to do, she took hold of her chalice and pondered it.
She was glad that they sat separated from the rest. She could gaze down at them in safety and gauge the atmosphere. The rabble paid her no mind, too caught up in their own drink and mild fornication. There were a lot of shared laps and wide laughing mouths. Hoots and hollers. Sometimes men tripped on skirts and women toppled from their bench. It was certainly not the kind of event she was anticipating. Perhaps she should have inquired more into Jareth's definition of casual.
She was glad when Roldan and Mariella finally arrived. Marie sat beside Davion, (Roldan beside Jareth) and waved at Sarah feverishly. Sarah smiled and waved back, stealing a bit of her friend's confidence. She heard Roldan sigh gruffly as he spoke to Jareth.
"Are we regretting this yet?" he asked, to which Sarah frowned. The two of them had been tossing that phrase around a lot today and it was worrying her more and more. She peered over to them and noted Roldan had, surprisingly, also removed his coat.
"No," Jareth said, taking a deep sip from his cup. "But the night is still young."
"My Lord Davion, I must thank you again for the quarters. They are simply divine!"
Sarah's attention was torn from Jareth and Roldan and over to Mariella, who was quickly fawning over her ex-or maybe ex no longer-playmate. She was glad free speech was permitted at the dining table. She didn't know if she could navigate the intricacies of a group conversation otherwise.
"Of course. You are now a queen's handmaiden. Only the best will do for you," he said, leaning towards her and pinching her chin. Mariella giggled and Sarah turned away. She wasn't quite sure what Mariella saw in him. All of his charm was blatantly superficial, nauseatingly so. Feeling left out, she gave in to the impulse and went to take a drink…
And then she almost gagged. She hadn't meant to, really, it was pure instinct. She'd gotten a whiff of the alcohol, a pungent chocolate and pomegranate, and almost heaved. She composed herself quickly, shocked by her reaction, and was now worried by the terrible churning in her stomach.
"Are you alright?"
She looked over, a hand held at the base of her throat as she swallowed down her nausea. Jareth was watching her intently. Apparently her reaction was as uncalled for as she'd thought.
"Yes. I...I don't know I just...I don't think I can drink this," she said, hoping it wouldn't offend Davion. Jareth's brow drew, though before he could probe further Davion chimed in.
"That's alright, my sweet. It is a bit robust and there's nothing wrong with a delicate palate. Could we get you something else?"
"Um, water. Just water please." She swallowed hard again and pushed the cup far away. Holy cow, that was bad. The memory was still sending shivers down her spine. She was never much of a wine person, but that was just unexpected.
A waiter brought her a glass of water immediately and she took a long sip.
"Feeling better?"
She glanced to Davion and nodded.
"Yes. Thank you."
Reluctantly she peered back to Jareth. He'd been quiet and she could feel his eyes on her. As expected he was staring, near glaring, though she shooed him off.
"What? You know I'm not big on alcohol," she said, waving at him dismissively. His eyes narrowed for just a moment longer before letting the matter go. He'd interrogate her later.
"Well, I hope you haven't lost your appetite. I believe we're about to be served and I, for one, am ravenous." Davion was leaning towards her again, putting himself and his face much too close to hers. She gave him a false smile in return, though he was either oblivious to it or simply didn't care. He leaned back and rose a hand in the air, gesturing towards an unknown somebody to commence dispensing their meal.
Dinner was surprisingly delectable. Though she didn't know why she was surprised. Everything in the Underground tasted better. They were eating some type of roast, smoked and charred on an open fire. She pretended it was pork. It tasted like it at least. It was of course fitted with all the trimmings, every side and salad and anything really that she could ask for. Not that she did. It was all simply brought out before her.
She was skeptical at first about how much she should indulge. Was it more Ladylike to daintly pick about her plate? Or did she have full license to gorge herself as she usually did? She seemed to be the only one having this conundrum, as everyone else ate heartily and with great appreciation. Well, everyone but Jareth. But then again, it was like pulling teeth trying to get him to eat a full meal even when they were alone. After a few minutes of debating she determined that she simply didn't give a fuck. She was starving and it all smelled delicious and Jareth had said not to try too hard.
She felt better after that, whatever remnants of that strange churning leaving her stomach.
It was quieter while they ate. Not by much mind you, but still mildly relaxing. She could now hear a piano being played in the background, along with a quartet of some otherworldly instruments. It was nice hearing Underground music. She'd been spoiled with it at her engagement ball and hadn't heard much of it since.
"Can I get you anything else, my sister?" Davion asked, and she looked over with a thumb in her mouth.
"Hm? No, thank you. This has all been very delicious," she said. Davion grinned, realizing that was the first authentic response she'd given him all evening. And they said food was the way to a man's heart.
"Hm, I'm glad." Sarah looked away, which gave Davion the opportunity to spy on Jareth, who himself had started to relax. He was looking out over the crowd, some dark thought on his mind no doubt, and Davion narrowed his eyes, chiding him for such folly. Maybe it was time to spice things up a bit. "I say. Before things come to a lull, shall I charm you with a bit of song?"
"What?" Sarah looked over to him, not having a clue what he meant. She saw Mariella's eyes light up beside him however and she practically jumped up in her seat.
"Oh my yes! Oh Lord Davion, will you really grace us with a song?" she asked. Sarah furrowed her brow. So he was going to sing? For real?
"Well, if my sister demands it," he said, turning his sly smile from Marie to her. Sarah pursed her lips, fighting off the urge to look back to Jareth. She could feel his eyes on her again. Maybe this was a test.
"By all means. I'd be delighted," she said. Hoping that was the right answer. Mariella had told her once that Davion would often sing for them, that his voice was just oh-so-lovely and a real spectacle to behold. She'd also learned from Roldan's lessons that singing was sometimes used as a means of facilitating spellcasting, and also played a number of roles in fae society. This did not surprise her, as singing and music were just as important in Aboveground culture. She did wonder though, why she had such a keen sense of Jareth staring daggers at the back of her head.
"Oh goody!" Mariella squeed, clapping her hands together as Davion stood. Soon other eyes caught on and elbows nudged as word spread of their lover's actions. The crowd began to hush and Davion stepped off the stage and moved towards the piano. Sarah, now actually a little intrigued, sat higher in her seat. She looked over to Jareth, unguarded against the look of disdain he was now directing at Davion. She worried her brow. Was this like the time she'd invited him to dinner? Should she not have encouraged him?
"Jareth?"
"Alas my lovelies!" The sound of Davion's voice resonated through the room and he turned around in a grand gesture. "My darling new sister has demanded from me a song, and so this miserable old fool must oblige." His head was lowered in deferrence, though his eyes and his grin were fully conniving beneath his draping bangs. He peered around to the faces closest to him and they smiled in kind. That...did not seem good. "What say ye? Something for the pretty couple no?!" he asked and they cheered. He turned to the piano and began fiddling with a few chords. The harem began to gossip, squirming in their seats with excitement as they watched. Sarah too became eager, eager to find out what was really going on.
He sat down and began to play. It was rough at first but soon found a groove and became shockingly polished. It was quick and delicate and thrumming. Sarah blinked repeatedly, impressed by his skill and apparent improvisation. She watched from across the room as his fingers moved deftly, dancing about the keys as his head swayed to the sound. She found herself leaning forward when the rhythm then slowed and moved to a lower register. His hands held on a chord and it vibrated through the room. He looked to the pianist, shared some inaudible dialogue with him and the band, and moved to allow him to take over. Apparently, he was setting the tone. Then there was a contemplative pause. Davion peered around the room, as if unsure of the words he wanted to say. Then he held up a finger, smiled, and cued the band to play just as he started to sing,
"She'll come...she'll go..." A gentle hand trailed along with his voice, across the soft and yielding cheeks of his entourage. He smiled at one in particular and brushed her lip with his thumb. "She'll lay belief on you...skin sweet with musky oil. A lady from another grinning soul." It seemed, to Sarah, that he was taking lyrical cues from his paramours, as each line seemed reflective of one swooning, sweaty body or another. He walked down the aisle, his hand trailing along a slick shoulder or two, his smile curling for the ones offered to him. Sarah sat up even higher. His voice was deceptive. Smooth and haunting. She wasn't expecting that. Jareth eyed her precariously though silently. She seemed very interested in his brother. If she leaned out any further she'd sprawl across the table. He bit the inside of his cheek with annoyance.
"Cologne, she'll wear. Silver, and with shoulder bared, she'll drive for wanton share and beat you down with naught the slightest care." He took the hand of a woman and brought her to his side, held her close, and twirled her. He'd rounded the end of the table now and was making his way back up. Other women were rising to their feet, flocking around him as if desperate for attention. Sarah...didn't rightly understand. Davion smiled from ear to ear and obliged them, spinning them back to their seats as he made his way. It was like they worshipped him. "And when the clothes are strewn, don't be afra-aid of the room. Touch the fullness of her breast. Feel the love of her caress-" Oh my. That had taken a rather intimate turn. They were moving to the beat, women laying themselves upon him as he ran his hands up and down their bodies as they rocked in a swaying motion. Sarah's face started to flush. If this was about to turn into an orgy she really needed to leave. She peered over to Jareth discreetly. He was watching even more intently than she and he did not look happy. She turned back to Davion and realized then that he and Jareth were making eye contact. She grew worried then. She recognized the kind of grin he was giving him. "She will be your living end."
Abruptly Davion turned away from Jareth. There was a strumming of a guitar and he fell silent as it played. Laughing, he let loose from vying hands and suddenly jumped atop the table, and began to dance along it. She'd never seen such wanton careless behavior and for as much as it alarmed her, Sarah found the show to be very alluring. His movements were fluid and somewhat erotic, reflective of the tune that played around them. The acoustics of the room were superb and carried the sound to each and every ear, as if it played just for them. Sarah bit her lip. The way he smiled. At certain angles it reminded her of Jareth. It made her think...of the time he'd once sung to her.
He picked up a random chalice and downed it, then tossed it carelessly over his shoulder before continuing. He sang louder this time, with more depth and confidence.
"She'll come. She'll go…" A couple women joined him atop the table, nearly knocking him over with their fervor, and suddenly it seemed like everyone was a bit tipsy. Even Davion's cheeks were looking flushed. Huh? He wrapped his arms around them and turned his gaze back to Jareth. "She'll lay belief on you. But she won't stake her life on you. How can life become her point of view?" He started laughing as he sang and turned to give one of his companions a kiss.
Sarah was becoming a little unsettled now. She didn't know the true meaning of his words but she could guess, and it was clear he was singing them to Jareth. She continued to spy on him, and only saw him become more and more angry. She didn't know what to do, if she should say anything or let things play out.
Davion twirled out of his lover's embrace and almost lost his footing. He caught himself and smiled as he poked a playful finger at a bodice or two. Things were really starting to heat up down there, in more ways than one. A number of the harem had taken to the floor and were dancing and cheering him on. Laughter was riotous and eyes were heavy-lidded. Something was definitely not kosher there. Davion's singing was good, but it wasn't that good.
"And when the clothes are strewn, ha, don't be afra-aid of the room. Touch the fullness of her breast. Feel the love of her caress! She will be your living end." His body was completely in tune with the music, his movement almost serous as he navigated scattered plates, and cups, and pawing hands. He started riffing then, reaching up into his hair as he bounded and turned. His voice grew louder and the trails ran longer. It only impressed her more and more. And he was smiling with such enjoyment. The beat began to slow and he twirled one more time, pausing to belt out the most impressive note yet. Sarah's eyes widened in awe, though was still able to catch the split-second glare he shot back at Jareth. She was sure of it now, she was missing something important. She caught Jareth's hand fist in his lap and she pursed her lips, but it was hard to pull her attention away from his brother. He laughed again and hopped down off the table, stumbling like a drunk as he did so. The band filled the void, the pianist executing a heart-pounding solo before fading back into a more general ambience. Men and women surrounded him and he lost himself to their attention, kissing and caressing and holding them posessively. She found herself blushing yet unblinking as she watched. He ended the song in a vocalise, long dramatic runs that echoed off the walls. They were all dancing together now, hands unseen amidst many layers or fabric. Sarah was greatly disturbed. This wasn't what she signed up for.
Soon his singing voice faded to a drunken chuckle and it was as if he'd forgotten what he had been doing completely. The entire hall had broken down into a primal state of carousal. All but those sitting at her table at least.
"Um...Jareth?" Finally, she turned to face him. She had worry on her face, which yielded nothing from the indiscernible wall that was Jareth's. "What um...what is happening down there?" she asked. Jareth sighed roughly through his nose and uncrossed his arms. Yes. He was very unhappy indeed. She peered past him for a quick second and caught Roldan shaking his head.
"My brother. My brother is what's happening." Sarah frowned, about to ask further when she was startled by a hand suddenly grasping at her shoulder.
"Well, what did you think?" Sarah jumped and whipped around to face Davion. He was grinning at her, his head tilted playfully and tendrils of hair, darkened with sweat, stuck to his face. Sarah opened her mouth but struggled with what to say.
"Uh...it was...I...it was something alright," she said, nodding her head as she tried to make sense of, and at the same time ignore, what was happening on the floor below them. Davion's grin widened with satisfaction and he exhaled deeply as if out of breath.
"Thank you. I thought you might like it."
"Did you...make all that up just now?"
"Yes."
"Wow. That's...amazing." She sat back in awe. Was this really something people here just did on the fly? She could never pull a composition like that clear out of her ass.
"Improvisation is a parlour trick," Davion said, and she glanced back at him. "Up here in these mountains one must refine their means of entertainment, lest it become stale."
"Oh...Well, I guess you're very good at it then. Your voice is really lovely," she said, smiling. Davion beamed, happy he may have finally broken through that sour demeanor of hers.
"Oh isn't it though? I do so enjoy hearing My Lord Davion sing. I think it is what I miss most about leaving," Mariella chimed in. She'd leaned over and was holding his arm as she spoke to Sarah, her grin ever-so giddy and Sarah noted then just how well admiration suited Davion. The look he now assumed was of pure conceit.
"So you do this a lot?" she asked him. Davion nodded, leaning forward to grab his drink.
"Why of course! I am only too ready to show my lovely companions fair appreciation. You ask that as if it's something you're unaccustomed to," he said, tossing a shady look at Jareth from over the rim of his chalice. Sarah failed to notice it however and only shook her head in confusion.
"Um, well, I'm not-"
"Gasp!" Davion interjected, slamming his cup down on the table for dramatic effect. Sarah startled back, giving him room to invade her personal space once again. He leaned forward, almost around her, as he spoke to Jareth. "Jareth, you mean to tell me you have yet to sing to her?" Jareth was silent and so was Sarah. She turned her head around to him warily. Was this something he was meant to do? Why was she so clueless right now? Davion laughed at Jareth's stoic silence and reeled himself in, waving a scolding finger at him. "For shame brother. And you say you are in love with this poor girl."
"Um, excuse me, why would you expect Jareth to sing to me?" Sarah asked, unaware of the air of awkwardness now spreading among the other guests at the table. Roldan and Mariella had each retreated, leaning far back in their seats and burying their faces in their cups, though again, Sarah failed to notice right away. Davion gave her a look of pity.
"Oh. Oh dear. Sweet sister. Don't you know? Singing is considered sacred to the fae," he said, resting an elbow on the table as he turned himself toward her. His free hand splayed over his chest. "Our song is our heart, is our life. We only entrust it to those whom we cherish most. Of course you can imagine why I assumed your ever-doting husband would have long since serenaded you to the moon and back." And to this Sarah blinked. It seemed like she'd cornered herself in some sort of situation and had foolishly allowed Davion to maneuver her there. Why the hell was Jareth being so quiet? She understood the insult clearly enough. He was trying to mock Jareth by implying he did not care enough about her to ever sing. Well fuck that. She had heard him sing. Even if it was...a long time ago.
"Oh...um...I...I have heard Jareth sing, actually," she said, fighting for confidence. Davion was just as much a bully as his brother, though she was out of her element here and unable to meet him punch for punch. Her eyes darted away then, for her comment had earned a truly unexpected reaction. Davion's eyes lit up, delightfully, and he gaped. She couldn't see Jareth and Roldan's expressions behind her but she could feel them, and she imagined they matched that of Mariella's. Shocked. She didn't understand. Sarah could have sworn she'd told her Jareth had sung to her once...It didn't seem like such a big deal at the time.
"Really?! Oh do tell-"
"Davion. I think you've had enough fun." Sarah turned back at the sound of Jareth's sharp interjection. He looked angry. Very angry. Like all the while he'd been biding his time, tallying all the little things being said and done to get the most out of inevitable retribution. Sarah pursed her lips and recoiled into her seat. She knew from experience what was on the verge of happening and she wanted no part of it. Was this something...she shouldn't even be discussing in the first place? "Perhaps you should tend to your horde before things get out of hand," he added. Davion huffed, the only one immune to the threat posed in Jareth's posture, and threw himself back in his seat.
"Hmph, if I could be so lucky," he said, tossing a hand carelessly through the air. "Perhaps the air wouldn't be oversaturated had you not impeded my efforts. I was suspicious as to why things were feeling a bit duller up here. Jareth, don't tell me I went to such efforts for naught? You really are no fun at all."
"What?"
Sarah's brow drew tight. What the hell was he talking about? Davion shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.
"You seemed so tense. I wanted to help loosen you up. Though it seems my brother had other ideas. You're more than welcome to join me in the pit, you know." He spoke as if she wasn't completely confused and she glanced down to the 'pit'. The people there were still going strong, dancing and cajoling, and touching each other without shame.
"Your efforts? What efforts?" she asked, though now turned back to Jareth. He was still irritated but it didn't phase her now. "Jareth? What did you do?"
Jareth sighed. This was really annoying him now. All Davion had to do was serve them dinner. He expected the spectacle, but was it really too much to remain civilized? Sarah had not yet been exposed to the more hedonistic sides of his culture, and he'd have preferred to be the one to navigate her there himself. She wasn't ready for this.
"Davion's song," he said, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "He used it as a means of casting an enchantment on the room."
"What?"
"I prevented it from reaching here."
"What enchantment? You mean the-" and then she paused, her eyes going wide. "The freaking orgy going on down there?! You did that on purpose?" She whipped around to face Davion, who had been awaiting said outburst.
"Oh come now, not you too," he said, growing bored of how uptight everyone had suddenly become. "I simply doused the air with a bit of mystic opioid. I know you've been watching them. They don't seem to mind it, do they?" Sarah's expression was one of distaste, though not one entirely without intrigue. It was gratuitous, certainly. Definitely inappropriate. However...they did seem to be enjoying themselves. And it now made sense why they were flocking to him as if desperate for a quick fix. She caught herself wondering then, for a very brief moment, if she could allow herself to partake in something like that. A state of heightened anxiety had become normal to her. The idea of cutting loose was certainly tempting...
"And here you were just saying fae only sing to the ones they love to convey their deepest feelings." Regardless of temptation, Jareth had barred it from her and she knew enough to stand by him in such an instance. Davion had cast a spell on her once before. It was probably for the best that she avoid it a second time.
"Is that what I said? I don't think I used those words," Davion replied, leaning against the table and pointing at her. "There are different types of song. I could sing myself into submission for the woman I loved. I could sing to make a tree grow. I could sing to burn down a building. I could sing simply to make someone else feel good. It is a gift meant to be given, and I cherish all those who are eager to receive." He took her hand then and brought it close to his mouth. "Intimacy need not always be so intimate. You'll be wise to learn that quickly," he said, and kissed her knuckles lightly. "Once you've come round, I might be inclined to sing something else. Something for your ears only." Sarah's eyes flickered down. That was definitely way over the line. She curled her fingers before pulling her hand away. She should be telling him to fuck off, yet the only thing on her mind was the memory of Jareth's serenade while they danced and the wonder of why, as Davion chided, that if he loved her so much he hadn't done so since?
"Enough."
Jareth's offensive tone spoke for her and she peered back to find his hands fisted on the arms of his chair. She sat as far away from Davion as she could.
"Ooh, touched a nerve there, have I? Perhaps then you should be more earnest in your care of her and I wouldn't feel the need to so readily offer my services," Davion said, with a haughty snap. There was a dangerous tension brooding between the two, leaving Sarah feeling like a bone to be tugged. She wasn't sure if she should say anything, not wanting to inadvertently make things worse. "You were listening to my song, no?" She could feel Jareth gearing up beside her and leaned forward between the two of them.
"Okay, I think that's enough," Sarah said, on complete impulse. Both he and Jareth looked at her but she did well not to waver under the scrutiny. She raised her hands and looked to Davion. "Davion, why don't you go down and mingle with your-your friends? Take Mariella with you, hm?" she suggested. Davion cocked her an eyebrow, unsure whether to take her seriously. Sarah cocked one back. "That's an order." She was surprised by how stern her own voice sounded, but thankful nonetheless. Davion sat back a little and huffed. Apparently that's all it took.
"Very well then. Your Majesty," he said, with only trace sarcasm. He bowed his head, glared at Jareth, and stood to his feet. "Shall we then?" he asked Mariella, who nodded and joined him wordlessly. And then they left, just like that. Sarah watched as they made the round towards the dance floor, though she knew they were far from in the clear.
It was silent for a minute, until Sarah finally exhaled and leaned back in her chair.
"Jareth? Is everything alright? Should we leave?" Though she was confident she'd defused one bomb she was unsure whether any more remained. Jareth seemed...less aggressive now that his brother was gone. That could only be a good thing.
Jareth watched his brother parade Sarah's nymph amidst the crowd, casually prattling on as if nothing that had just happened mattered. They each knew otherwise. He detested him when he was in moods like this. When he felt the need to place himself at the center of every emotion. He seemed worse now. Like he was targeting Sarah with a particular ire that Jareth couldn't place. He was taking any chance he could find to provoke him, like a child, and needed to be dealt with like a child.
He sighed, acknowledging he may have been too lenient just now. Hopefully, for his brother's sake, he would choose not to escalate things any further.
"Do you want to leave?" Jareth asked. He'd been trying his best to keep all of Sarah's needs met as Liana had suggested, which meant putting aside the baggage between he and his brother for the sake of this trip. With any luck, she'd be well satisfied and never insist they venture here again.
"I don't...want to escalate things with Davion. Maybe you were right about him. Maybe we should have just stayed home."
"Finally, she talks sense." Sarah looked around Jareth, having nearly forgotten Roldan was still sitting beside him at the end of the table. Well, he'd certainly chosen his moment to make himself known. Sarah glared and he caught her eye. He paused then, realizing he was out of turn. "On second thought...perhaps I'll get some air," he said, awkwardly and left. Sarah stared after him too. Geez, way to make it obvious Roldan. His abrupt departure only made the tension worse, leaving Sarah to squirm alone in her seat.
"I don't think I fully understand what's happened," she said, trying not to fiddle her fingers. Her head was cast down but she spied on him from the corner of her eye. He was still looking angry, and he had yet to respond. "When Davion started singing, it seemed like you got really angry. What was he talking about in that song?"
"Nothing," Jareth said. His tone was harsh, too harsh. He reigned himself in and shook his head. "Nothing important," he added, softer. Sarah peered down again and pouted.
"Everyone seemed on edge when we brought up your singing. Should I not have said anything?" She really didn't understand. She'd spent weeks learning fae culture from Roldan and he'd somehow completely missed informing her on any of this. She wondered if he'd left it out on purpose. If maybe he'd been directed to…
Jareth tapped a finger against the edge of the table before leaning back. He relaxed a little, in posture if nothing else.
"No...It was he who should not have said anything. It is...considered highly inappropriate to discuss another fae's song in public," he explained, which now explained Roldan and Mariella's reactions. Sarah folded her hands in her lap and inspected them absently.
"Oh. I didn't know. I'm sorry. The way he was going on it just seemed…"
"I know. My brother has a way of making things seem." Sarah fell silent. She felt foolish. So she had embarrassed him then? Not intentionally of course, but all the same. She could choose to go on the offensive and blame him for not explaining things earlier. If it was something so damn important.
"Is there a reason...why you don't sing to me?" she asked, looking up to him cautiously. Jareth met her gaze, caught off guard by her question. "Or maybe...why you've never told me about it in the first place?"
"Yes."
He was still angry, his stern expression making it hard for her to prod the answers out of him. She took a deep breath and straightened her back. If nothing else, she still had an image to present.
"Oh…" was all she said, feeling sorry for herself that perhaps Davion was right, maybe he didn't care about her deeply enough to sing for her. Insecurity was having its wicked way, but deep down she knew even then what a ridiculous thought that was.
"I...have been reluctant," Jareth said, a willful omission that earned back Sarah's gaze. His jaw tensed and he shifted in his seat as he looked vacantly out over the crowd. "Davion spoke truth when he said our song is our life. It is our essence. But that is different from what you heard just now. Davion in a hedonist. What he did was crude and banal, an abuse of the act, meant nothing more than to entice the senses. What he was referring to with you and I is something...altogether dangerous."
"Why is it dangerous?" she asked. Jareth tilted his head as he thought of the right words.
"Dangerous...for me." He paused and gave in to the urge to look at her. Her eyes were expectant but yielding. He wished they could be alone for this conversation. "It's more intimate than even the sharing of pheromones; it is an act tantamount to wearing our heart on our sleeve. There is inherent risk in that. I haven't...always done right by you and...It may be selfish, but I suppose I didn't want to be hurt by a reaction to something you didn't fully understand...again."
"Oh...I'm sorry you've felt that way," she said, her brow softening with sympathy. He looked very uncomfortable right now and she knew how hard it must have been to say all that in their current setting. He'd been scared of making himself vulnerable to her, was that it? After all the things he'd divulged and said about his past and his feelings for her, this was considered too much? She realized her inability to fathom just how significant this was to his culture. It made her feel like an outsider. But even worse, it made her feel like she'd shamed him. And then she realized he'd said again. Yes, he had sung to her before and her reaction had been...the opposite of receptive. "Jareth-" she started to say, now forming a true understanding of what had upset him so deeply about Davion's instigation.
"It's nothing you need apologize for," he said, not letting her finish. "You were unaware. And it's not something that most people feel comfortable openly explaining." Oh. So maybe that was why Roldan never brought it up? She wanted to ask but there were more pressing things to say. "And besides, I'm the one who rendered our relations so fickle in the first place."
He'd smiled but looked away, a gesture that only made her frown deepen.
"Jareth," she repeated, this time her tone urging him to look at her. He did, though not right away. "When we danced...and you sang to me," she started, then trailed off in a different direction. "I of course had no idea back then, but Roldan explained to me that songs were sometimes used to enhance magic; so I've been assuming that was the reason. I've thought back on it a lot and...When you sang to me then it was to maintain the phantasm, right? And at the end...when I was running around in that physic-less cluster of stairs trying to get Toby, that was you trying to keep me lost in it...right?" Her questions were rhetorical and she glanced away in disappointment. This was one of those things, one of those crucial details she wished she'd known from the beginning.
Jareth stared at her intently. For some reason, he didn't think she would remember.
"...It was," he said, reluctantly. Spells on her that day were not the first he'd used a song to imbue, though they were the first that were imbued with something more substantial. He paused before speaking again. "Although...they were also from the heart." Sarah turned to him slowly. When their gazes crossed he felt suddenly exposed. He opened his mouth but hesitated. "You were under my spell, yes. And while you were dazed, it seemed to me then...easier to say what I couldn't otherwise. You weren't exactly paying attention to the words, were you?" His look on her softened as the memories faded in and out. He hadn't thought much of the impulse back then, of how much such a thing would affect him later on. When he had begged her to stay and she outright refused…
"Not at the time, no," Sarah said, honestly. That day her only real thought was getting Toby back. It wasn't until later, long after it was all said and done, that she thought back on it. Over and over. She remembered those words, and that sound, and his face with remarkable clarity. For a long time she'd thought her adolescent mind had embellished those memories, made them into something they weren't. It seemed now however she was right all along. Maybe he really had loved her from the beginning. "But I do...still remember." He was surprised when she continued speaking, surprised by how hopeful her expression had become. "I think about it a lot...all the time really. Wondering if I'll ever hear it again. Davion's voice is very beautiful. It's haunting even. But...it's still nothing compared to yours. Yours is lower and fuller and altogether...heartrending. I only wish I'd known how important that was."
He couldn't rightly say how affected he was by what she had just said to him. She had no idea of the significance, what saying something like that really meant. He wanted to reach out and cling to her, to hold her until she suffocated and felt even just half as overwrought as he did. He'd never sang from his heart to another person. Never predicted in all his life he ever would and yet that day it had just happened. It had felt natural, and effortless, and for the first time he wanted someone to know. He wanted to be seen. When she hadn't, when her gaze had gone plainly through him it had been devastating. It had made him bitter, angry, and vengeful. Intimacy was not a good thing. It was never a good thing when it rendered a person weak and helpless. But now, ever since she'd returned, it had torn him asunder, over and over, and only made him stronger for it. He felt strong when she looked at him, when she saw just how weak he really was.
"That...is a relief to hear," he said, not knowing what else to say. If they were alone he might have been able to express himself more. However, in this place, there were eyes and ears at every corner. "When Davion sang…" he added, cocking his head and biting his tongue as if regretting the impulse. "You admired him. He sang to you and cast a spell, and I watched your eyes widen with wonder and…" and it made him jealous. It made him jealous and resentful that he could not elicit such a reaction from her when his intentions had been genuine. When he had wanted more than a casual fuck. He couldn't bring himself to say this however. Instead he only bit his cheek.
"And I would have much rather heard it from you." He looked over. She was looking down, embarrassed, or at least unsure, and pinched the tips of her fingers. So she did understand then? Or at least in part, the intimacy of their conversation. He was glad for that. "I don't…" she continued, giving in to look back at him and locked her eyes on his unintentionally. "...want you to feel any pressure because of what Davion did just now but...I want you to know that if you ever do feel like it...I would very much like to hear you sing again." Sarah waited a beat. He said nothing but his jaw tensed, and she knew he must be holding himself back on account of their surroundings. She turned away from him and smiled softly. "It's honestly the most wonderful thing I've ever heard. Regardless of my ignorance on the matter, it's not something I would never take lightly." She reached over and took his hand. Held it firmly, naturally, and brushed her thumb along his knuckles.
Roldan stood in the corner at the back of the room wondering why in the living hell he was still here. There were befuddled bodies every which way, doting and dancing and, with all likelihood, fornicating within an arm's reach. The sound, and the smell, and the sight of which left him wholly unimpressed. He glanced over at the familiar sound of Mariella's laughter. She and Davion were heading towards him, though he hoped it was unintentional. It was not.
"Oh, Master Roldan! There you are!" she said, slinking against Davion as the effects of his charm overtook her. Roldan huffed. She may not be as powerful as her Lord, but he knew even she was capable of abstaining had she felt the desire. He took a deep breath and exhaled roughly.
"I'd ask if you were enjoying yourself, but it seems as if we've all been kicked to the curb," Davion said, smiling down at Mariella as she stumbled from his hold. She was smiling widely. A big toothy grin that Roldan regarded as being far too pure for the likes of Davion.
"Indeed," Roldan said, dryly.
"Aw look at that. I think they made up!" Mariella had turned, and at her suggestion so did Roldan and Davion, and together they spied on the distant figures of Jareth and Sarah, speaking quietly to one another. Mariella hummed with glee and clapped.
"Made up? I didn't realize they were fighting in the first place," Roldan said, not fathoming why in the world she was so invested in their relationship.
"Oh come now Master Roldan. Look at them up there, all small smiles and knowing eyes. It's so cute I tell you."
"You're disgusting."
"And you're depressing," Mareilla snapped. She turned back to him with a glare and it was the first time he'd ever seen her make such an expression. Davion laughed and caught her as she wobbled.
"Quite right, my love," he said, holding her steady as he shot Roldan a playful eye.
"I'm so glad Sarah is finally happy. And His Majesty too, of course," she said in a drawl. "Even with your nasty instigations Lord Davion," she added, jabbing him in the ribs with mock distaste. Davion had the gall to place a shocked hand over his heart.
"Oh, whatever do you mean?" he asked, roguishly. Mariella wrinkled her nose and took hold of the collar of his shirt -for balance.
"Come now. Even I was shocked you'd say something so rude. Things haven't exactly been easy for them, you know."
"No, I don't. Not since you stopped writing to me, at least."
"Mph," Roldan huffed and shook his head. These two were quite the pair. He rolled his eyes away for a moment and glanced back to Jareth and Sarah. They were still talking, leaning in subtly and smiling. "She's right, you know," he said, giving Davion a stern side-eye. "You pushed too far. I wouldn't be surprised to find you on the receiving end of a switch the moment Sarah takes to bed."
"Oh Roldan, you're such a tease," Davion said, waving him off. He really didn't care for his threats, or Jareth's for that matter. Punishments meant nothing to him. He need only make sure his gain was worth the cost. "How was I supposed to know no-one had told her of our more private nuances? Let alone it would be such a tender subject." He'd grabbed a flute from a passing waiter and fed Mariella before downing the rest himself.
"Oh psh, you very well knew. You naughty little thing." Mariella jabbed him again, only this time she somewhat meant it. Davion shrugged.
"Well, if nothing else, it seems I've done them a favor. Wouldn't you agree, Roldan?" Roldan had no idea why he'd called him out just now and glanced at him suspiciously. Davion was watching him carefully, that wry smile ever-so-plainly etched across his face. Roldan scowled and looked away. Apparently he'd been watching them too closely.
"Oh, Mariella? Is that you? Oh darling, do come here!" a female voice shouted from out of the crowd. All heads turned and Mariella's drooping eyes now widened with glee.
"Gretilda? Oh my dear, it's been too long!" she shouted back, bouncing up on her toes and waving. She turned to Roldan and Davion then and tossed them a dismissive hand. "Forgive me gentlemen, but I must go and mingle," she said and, as if it was perfectly natural, rose up just as Davion's head turned and gave him a soft little kiss. He smiled at her and she skipped away.
Roldan was hoping now that Mariella had left, Davion would as well. He didn't.
They stood awkwardly together. Awkward for Roldan at least, as he could feel the imp's gaze searing into him urgently. He tried his best to ignore it but gave in rather quickly.
"What?" he asked, sharply. Davion chuckled. All he had to do was stare. Oh, how easy it was to ruffle this poor frustrated man.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked. Roldan crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.
"I thought you'd decided not to ask me that?" he replied. Davion took a step towards him and mirrored his posture against the wall.
"I would be a poor host not to," he said and cocked his head towards Roldan so he could be better heard. "There's really no reason to hold yourself back. Jareth won't mind." Roldan scowled harder. As if Davion actually cared whether or not he had a good time.
"It's not about that," he said. Davion smiled.
"Of course not." It was quiet for a moment. Uncomfortably so. "Are you perhaps worried he'll find out about our little arrangement?" he asked, and earned a sharp and angry glare in return. His smile broadened cheekily and he laughed. "Oh there we go," he said, with satisfaction.
"You really are going all out tonight, aren't you?" he asked. Davion gave in to lean against Roldan's shoulder. Roldan thought about stepping away just then and letting him fall to the floor, but refrained.
"Oh, if you only knew." His words hung ominously in the air and Roldan tried his best not to play into it. Instead he sighed roughly. How had he gotten stuck dealing with this mongrel? "Have you seen Candela around?" he asked. Roldan quirked a brow but bit his cheek.
"No," he said, plainly.
"Hm...she must still be preparing your room then."
Roldan tried but could not conceal the twitch that moved through his ears. He tensed a little, something Davion was surely aware of with his head resting against his shoulder.
"That will be unnecessary," he said. Davion leaned in a little further and pointed out at Jareth and Sarah from across the room.
"Why? Because you're on the clock?" he asked. "I've kept our little secret for how many years Roldan? What makes you think I'd give you away now?" Roldan's teeth ground. He really did not want to be in the position Davion was backing him in to. He didn't respond, and after a moment Davion huffed exasperatingly. "Oh fine," he said, with another dramatic sigh. "Then go sleep in a snowbank for all I care." By now his hand had fallen to Roldan's shoulder, using him for support as he leaned over him rather suggestively. He was frowning however, growing more and more disappointed with how ungodly boring they had all become. He was staring out over the crowd, just as Roldan, and then his eyes perked up. "And what's this? Is the happy couple leaving?"
"...No," Roldan said, standing up a little straighter and shoving Davion off of him. "I think they're about to join us."
Sarah continued to stare out over the room in a contented silence. She felt better now, and Jareth's grip on her hand told her he did too. She was smiling to herself, a small little sated expression that he would spy on every now and again. Her hair was up, revealing the elegant contour of her neck and shoulders which were usually hidden. His eyes would travel down, marveling at how undeniably fitting she looked. Regal, with a sharp nose and discerning eye. She probably wouldn't think it, but she exuded a great deal of confidence in moments of repose.
"Davion looks like he's bothering Roldan," she said, drawing him from his gander. He looked up and followed her line of sight to find his brother strewing himself languidly over a very irate looking Roldan. Poor thing, he thought, with actual sympathy. "You know…" she started, tilting her head with contemplation. She kept her eyes searching the crowd but now his turned back to her. "I know you did it for my sake but...I'm not opposed to going down there."
Now that was unexpected. He turned to face her a little more.
"That's surprising," he said. Sarah furrowed her brow just slightly.
"Is it?"
"I thought you would have been appalled." Sarah pursed her lips and cracked a smile.
"You think I'm too uptight," she said. Jareth's brow softened.
"No. I think you're innocent. I don't want you to feel compelled to jump into something you're not ready for," he said. Oddly to him, she only frowned. Apparently that wasn't what she wanted to hear.
"I don't think I like...that you think of me that way." Now that was really unexpected. He started to sit back when she turned to look at him. "It makes me feel inferior." She spoke plainly, with no inflection of any kind. Jareth tilted his head, wondering where she was going with this.
"I've never thought that," he said and she looked away. Her grip on his hand tightened.
"I've never…" she started, and then paused, insecure over the information she wanted to divulge. It may only prove his point. "...done anything like this. Obviously. I've never done drugs, or even smoked a cigarette. I've drank at parties, sure, but...even then, it always made me nervous. I am uptight. I've always been too scared to do something more risky. I find myself wondering if you'll resent that. If, were you not with me now, you would be down there with the rest of them enjoying Davion's charm to its fullest." She bit her lip as she finished her sentence. She looked anxious, anxious to move, like she in fact was longing to be the one down there herself and very much so. Jareth's expression changed. He was caught off guard, and tugged on her hand until she looked at him.
"Honestly? Yes. If you were not present in my life, I most likely would be down there. With that said, I feel no compulsion to do so now. My desire, entirely, is to be with you." She stared at him skeptically, her brow all worried and cute. Jareth smiled. "You still suffer the notion that you somehow bore me or eventually will. I would have thought, by now, such thoughts would long be dead." He kissed her hand sweetly, which only marginally soothed her. Yes, she was insecure that she wouldn't be enough to fill his appetites. She was only one woman after all, vastly inexperienced, and largely unwilling to entertain many, if not most, of the things he probably counted as no more exciting than Sunday brunch. She frowned at him and looked away, a bit of a scowl turning her brow.
"I don't want to be innocent," she mumbled, curling her hands in her lap. Looking over the scene, seeing what took place at what she was sure would be considered a mundane fae affair, made her want to do more. Be more. She wanted to be careless. She wanted to be enticed, enthralled, and adventurous. Not merely for Jareth's sake, but because she could feel a tremor deep inside urging her to break free of self-made constraints. He'd always accused her of being a sensual creature. She wanted the confidence to tell him he was right.
She felt caged being the only ones still sitting behind a table.
"You want to go down there?" he asked and she peered back to him. "You really want to put yourself at the mercy of Davion's spell?" She frowned again when he asked that. When he phrased it like that, she thought maybe she was being foolish and should just take it all back. But the way he was looking at her, it wasn't with disapproval or even refusal. He was just asking. Plain and simple.
"I…" she started and then changed directions. "If you think it would otherwise be safe, then yes. I do."
Jareth was genuinely surprised. By her initial reaction, he thought she was assuredly turned-off from the prospect. It really didn't bother him. Rejecting this party meant she was rejecting Davion and that was always good. However, this was a turn that presented a whole new set of problems. He wanted to say yes. The more he thought about it the more he really, really wanted to say yes. But, he was wary of her temperamental state. If she lost inhibition...he wasn't sure what that would mean regarding her subconscious spellcasting. On the other hand, Liana had told him not to let her want anything too badly and she looked like she wanted to join the party very, very badly. He needed to choose the path of less risk…
"Alright," he said, something she was, by all account, shocked to hear. Her head darted back to him and her eyes widened, as if she'd never bothered even hoping he would actually say yes.
"Really?"
Jareth held her gaze for a moment as he contemplated something. She looked so damn eager all of the sudden. It gave him an idea. He reached out for her plate and pulled it closer, then waved his fingers over it and a little berry appeared.
"Eat that," he said, as if she would comply automatically. She furrowed her brow and looked down at it.
"Why, what is it?" she countered. Jareth tilted his head.
"It's a moon berry," he said, and she pursed her lips as she pretended to know what the hell that was. He could see she was confused and filled in the gaps. "Letting you experience Davion's charm is more complicated than simply walking down there. I'd have to remove several of my wards from you and I'd rather not do that. This however, will induce a similar effect as Davion's spell. Only, this is natural. Which means you won't fall victim to the whim of someone else's magic." Sarah stared down at her plate and hummed, her lips pouting as she thought. She'd just told him she'd never done drugs before and was feeling instinctively hesitant. This was however, exactly the opportunity she'd just been asking for. She needed to woman up and just do it.
"So...what will it do then, exactly?" she asked.
"Help you relax."
"Will I start seeing rainbows melting down the walls or royally-dressed pigs with seven heads?" He laughed at how specific, and earnest, she was in her depictions, and shook his head.
"No. I don't think you're ready for something like that, at least not while in my brother's company." Sarah nodded in agreement. She was looking down at her plate very nervously, so he elaborated further. "Fear not, this particular fruit is considered a minor narcotic. You'll experience something akin to having a few strong glasses of alcohol in you, since you are apparently adverse to actually drinking any tonight. You'll remain in control of yourself, and your perception of reality, I assure you." Her eyes shot over to him quickly, knowing from that less-than-subtle drop that her faux pas had not yet been forgotten.
"Yeah, well, maybe something told me I'd be better off keeping my hands out of Davion's punch bowl," she said, to her defense. Jareth smirked and reached out to smooth away the sowl from her brow.
"Self-preservation is a valuable trait to have. However, as I've said, you don't have to engage in anything you are uncomfortable with. I'm content as we are," he said, which only made Sarah's scowl worsen. He really was content, wasn't he? Well shit. She wasn't. Not at all.
She took up her knife and cut it in half.
"Only if you take it with me," she said, looking him straight in the eye. Jareth smiled then, a creeping, pride-filled smile.
"If you insist...Just remember to mind your output."
He wasn't sure if this would end well, but he was sure it was the better course of action. The air surrounding her was still dead, so he was skeptical whether Davion's charm would work on her anyway. This way no magic was required and she would effectively be kept safe. He wanted to fulfill her needs and was happy she'd finally started expressing them. Only eating half should still allow her to have full control of her faculties, so...He couldn't imagine anything too bad happening.
He took up his sliced half and placed it on his tongue, letting the tip of his finger graze sensually along it as he did so. Sarah gulped. She was obviously skeptical. But seeing he'd now passed the point of no return, she quickly swallowed her nerves along with the remaining berry. Mind my output? Oh right -pheromones.
She sat there nervously as if she expected the change to be instantaneous.
"Well?" Jareth said, and she looked over to find he had stood and was now offering her his hand. "Shall we then?" She took his hand and lifted the skirt of her dress as she made her way around the table.
She was half expecting the crowd to stop dead once again at the sign of their procession. However, they did not. A few stared. Others pointed and nudged, cackling behind their hands and their fans, their mouths hanging slack mid-sentence as they watched, with growing excitement, as Jareth led her down the steps and into the pit. By now the tables had been moved, making for a sizable dance floor that was already well in use. She peered around them anxiously, their sideways glances were hungry and not always pleasant, and decided she would be better off keeping her attention strictly on Jareth.
She wasn't quite sure where to go from here. She didn't feel high. Though she acknowledged it'd only been about a minute and a half. Was that a dumb thought to have? Jareth walked her to the center of the room where curious onlookers readily stepped aside. There was a noticeable perimeter forming around them, which Sarah found to be rather awkward. She supposed it was better than being pressed up against them, at least.
The smell was...interesting.
"You seem on edge," Jareth said, turning her towards him and embracing her in a waltzing stance. She'd noticed the dancing here was different than at her wedding celebration. It was less structured and seemingly by whim. Lots of twirling and quick feet. Careless in a sense. She wondered how in the world she could keep up with it.
"Don't want to step on your toes, I guess," she said, glancing down with a false laugh. Jareth's smile curled.
"You'll be doing much more than that in a few moments, I promise," he said, which caught her attention and, at the sharp look of terror that spread across her face, he gripped her tightly and spun them into the fray.
He moved her effortlessly, commanded her body with each step, and laughed at the stumble or two that sent her falling into him. She wasn't ready. Not hardly in fact. And her panicked gaze veered as she struggled to keep up. He was toying with her yes, tossing her slight frame about like a ragdoll.
The sight of a smile on the Goblin King's face brought assurance to the merry onlookers, who gradually began drawing themselves closer and closer as they danced. Sarah too was smiling, a large radiant smile that he wished he could keep all to himself. Tendrils of hair fell loose from their pins and floated about her face, and her eyes had turned from him to glance freely about the crowd. He could sense a change going through her, mainly because it was one he was now experiencing himself. After a few minutes, when the stretch of her smile betrayed her, he slowed, as the room continued to spin, and reached up to pull away a lock of hair that had caught on her lip.
"Feeling better yet?" he asked, and she swayed in his arms.
"Yes. Whoa, are we-are we still spinning?" she asked, chuckling as she brought a hand to her temple. Jareth grinned. Her cheeks were starting to flush and her beaming smile turned lazy.
"No. We're standing perfectly still." And yet the room was spinning. Wait. No. Those were just people dancing.
"I see...Well then." She smiled a little wider, her eyes falling vacantly on a woman who passed close by. Her elbow brushed her arm and it tingled something fierce. "Say, this wouldn't happen to be affecting me more so than you, would it? With me being mortal and all," she said, taking a step back from him but still clutching his arm. She was starting to feel...buzzed? Was that right? Had the dance accelerated things?
"Only marginally," he said, feeling a definite heat building in his own eyes. He may have a higher tolerance for stimulants and depressants, but not because she was a human. While he doubted he would be feeling as strongly as she, it was still one of his favorites. It made one feel very free.
She hummed, petting his arm absentmindedly as she stared out over the crowd.
"I feel drunk. Is that right?" she asked, then turned back to look at him. "What would happen if I ate an entire bushel of those things?" He laughed at how enticed she sounded. Her eyes were strained wide and her pupils were steadily dilating. He never thought she would just come out and ask him for this.
"You would die," he said, amusedly. Sarah nodded. That made sense. "Would you like to keep dancing?" Sarah peered around.
"Um. Hang on…" she muttered and stepped away from him. She was a little wobbly and laughed as she caught herself. Wow, that tiny half a berry was really hitting her now. Jareth watched her kneel to the floor and grew curious when she reached up under her skirt.
There were ties underneath which, apparently, connected to the loose tassels hanging about the external layers of her skirt. She'd discovered this while dressing that afternoon, and thought it rather convenient should she indeed get too hot as Jareth foretold. She tied them each precariously, leaving everyone to wonder what in the hell the Queen was doing hobbled over on the floor at the feet of the King. When she stood, the effect of her outfit was dramatically different.
Her legs were bared above the knee. Her skirts rose in asymmetric undulations that fell lower to her calves in the back. Her naked feet and slender ankles posed rather sensuously for any who dared look. Her crimped underskirts, now revealed in tatters, were a wanton blood red that framed the pale skin of her thighs rather invitingly. Jareth watched eagerly. She wasn't done yet.
Her arms rose above her head and she tilted it this way and that as she removed her hair pins. It cascaded down, and she clawed her hands into her scalp and ruffled it, shaking her head as the dark tresses tumbled down past her shoulders. She looked away from Jareth, smiled, and reached out to the nearest hand.
There was a couple, a man and a woman, dancing slowly rather close to them. Sarah tapped on the woman's shoulder, a bawdy smile on her face, and took hold of her hand without the slightest preamble. This surprised not only the lady, but Jareth as well.
"Would you mind holding these for me, please?" she asked, placing her pile of pins in the woman's hand and curling her fingers closed. Jareth started laughing. The woman blinked then nodded, as if greatly honored for the privilege, and drew her hand back close to her chest. Sarah turned away without a thought and grabbed ahold of Jareth's shoulders. "Alright. I'm ready."
She pursed her lips but couldn't dispel her smile as she locked eyes with him. He was staring down at her, trying his very best not to audibly laugh. She looked wild. An untamed thing. Wilting so salaciously down his torso. There was an earthiness about her, something pure and uncut. Her bare limbs began to shine and her hair took on a steamy curl from the humidity caused by so many laboured breaths. She bit her lip, a little too hard, which then became red and rosy beneath her teeth.
She looked every bit a creature of destruction. And he couldn't help but remark how well she fit by his side.
"What?" Sarah asked, giving in to sway against him a little bit. He was just staring at her, with that vacant-but-not-quite look that often had her second guessing herself. She cared naught this time however. She didn't care about anything.
"It's...like night and day," he said, cheerfully. Sarah scoffed, wrinkling her brow and shoving at him. She was surprised when he lost his footing. Apparently she wasn't the only one feeling a little crocked.
"Yes…" she started, her head dipping low for a moment as she peered around suspiciously. "I think we should do this more often." And she sagged, leaning her weight against him and pressing the side of her face into his chest. Her arms still clung to his shoulders. It was...a rather amusing sight.
"So long as you still feel that way in the morning, we shall," Jareth said, lifting her up and sweeping them back into the dance. He was lighter footed, which betrayed the fact that he was actually being less attentive. She twirled around, her feet flying up off the ground at times, and she giggled. He was smiling down at her and there was a glaze over his eyes. She wondered what she must look like in return. Hopefully she wasn't making a fool of herself.
"Now that is unexpected." Davion pinched his chin as he pursed his lips. He had really counted on the two of them spending the evening grumbling together atop the dais. But this was promising. His brother was even smiling. Maybe Sarah had some fun in her after all. "Do you not agree?" He turned and glanced at Roldan, who's keenly fixated stare betrayed him.
"It is," he replied. Davion's eyes narrowed.
"She looks much better let go, doesn't she?" he asked. This time, t'was the tensing of Roldan's jaw that gave him away.
"I suppose."
Davion almost burst into laughter. This was just getting too easy.
"I'm surprised she was able to talk him into letting her partake."
"What makes you think he has?" He spoke plainly, but Davion knew when a person's eye had been caught and Roldan's, plainly, had been snared.
"Look at her," he said, close to his ear. He was leaning on him again, an arm atop Roldan's shoulder. "A vixen if ever I saw one, ruffled in wine and champagne. Her cheeks are flushed. Her gaze is laden. And her lips…"
"I do have eyes," Roldan interjected. He'd given in to crossing his arms. The final tell of how uncomfortable Davion was making him.
"She's certainly under some kind of influence, whether or not it be mine. Perhaps you should ask for a dance. She may take more kindly to you."
"That is not something I am even remotely interested in."
"...Of course not."
Oh, how he joyed in teasing poor old Roldan. What a pitifully frustrated thing he was. He didn't entirely blame him though. Sarah was, by all accounts, an exotic oddity that inadvertently captured the gaze of most who passed her. It was rare for humans to be regarded as equal in beauty to a fae. And yet, if he had not known, he would have said she fit her surroundings perfectly. Even he too was feeling a bit of genuine attraction, eyes catching on the way his brother's hand krept up the inside of her thigh as he twirled her, or the way her lips parted as she gasped. He kept watching her as thoughts of the night to come excited him. Then he saw them stop dancing. Watched as Sarah took a step back, was offered a drink, and then-
Davion felt his jaw drop open in wonderful, wonderful surprise.
Sarah shuffled away from Jareth, panting to catch her breath. She didn't know if it was the physical movement or the stupor, but she felt as if she were about to succumb to the most dramatic case of dehydration. She licked her lips. Her mouth felt a little cottony.
"I need a drink," she said, and began to look around the room for a waiter. Jareth grinned, taking note of the way she forwent the compulsion to ask. Jareth conjured her one from thin air and she gulped it down ungracefully, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she inspected the room once more.
"Still feeling okay?" he asked.
"Are you?"
"Undoubtedly."
She huffed with laughter and took a deep breath. She could see clearly and yet things were still off. Maybe it was how she was perceiving them. She couldn't gauge her surroundings. She knew there were people nearby but it didn't feel like people were nearby. What she could feel was the thrum of drums vibrating through her, making her naked toes curl against the warm stone floor. She closed her eyes and began to move to it. Alone.
"You know, this kind of sounds like something I might listen to in the Above," she said, mindlessly dropping her cup and then giving a cute jolted 'oops!' as it fell from her hand. It vanished just before hitting the floor and she blinked at it as if that were normal.
"Really?" Jareth asked, reaching for her sides and reeling her back in as she started to subconsciously drift away.
"Mhm...in a club maybe. The music we dance to tends to have a very strong beat. Something you can really move your body to."
Now this perked Jareth's interest. He was familiar with many things in the Aboveground, but this was not one of them.
"Do explain," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and bracing her to him as they swayed. The last time she had explained to him an Aboveground dance it had been slow and intimate. Perhaps this would be equally rewarding.
"Well," she started, and peered from face to muddled face. "It's a lot more sexy than this." She pulled away from him and raised her arms, pushing mats of hair away from her face. "The kinda thing you do alone but together. People use it as a way to relieve stress, or procure a possible mate." She spoke to his benefit and bit the T on the end of her sentence. Her eyes were closed. Her hands were still in her hair and she'd begun moving to the beat.
"That sounds…"
"Alluring?" she finished for him, throwing him an eye as she turned full circle. She knew he was watching her and it made her smile. Some of the harem had devolved into just such dances, so she figured this was not a concept unknown to him. Hands gripped hips. Bodies pressed against one another. Just add a pop n' lock and it was a regular ol' basement rave. She turned back to Jareth and stared at him hungrily. "Would you like to see?"
Normally, under circumstances where she was anything other than vaguely high, she would have been too self-conscious to make such an offer, especially in enemy territory and surrounded by people who could have easily tossed a coin between fucking and killing her. However, she was vaguely, if not definitively, high. And, as it turns out, uninhibited Sarah was an aggressive little minx.
"Are you going to show me?" Jareth asked, provokingly. He had the same look as her, challenging and thoroughly entertained. Sarah pursed her lips, then bit them. Her eyes narrowed and her hips began to move.
Davion found his gaping jaw slowly turning into a wide, beaming, brilliant grin. He'd been watching Sarah as he teased Roldan, watching as she'd stopped dancing to get a drink, as she and Jareth stood in the center of the room and talked. He'd thought of joining them at that moment, to spy on Roldan's expression as he wrapped his hands around his compromised sister while batting his brother's away.
Then something better happened. Sarah had glanced away, in their direction no less, and she had donned the most impish of grins. She rose her hands up into her hair and stepped away from Jareth. She'd sighed and feathered her lashes and poised her body in a way he never expected her to. The beat of the band was slow, deep, something more tribal than classical. Davion often saved such tunes for later in the evening, when clothing was misplaced and the heat of the night had everything dripping. It seemed Sarah was looking to hurry the schedule.
Davion was not the only one who had noticed this. Several sets of eyes glanced back to The Queen, who was putting on what was considered to be an extremely provocative display by any means. Her hips churned to the music. Her hands ran up and down her own body. She turned and dipped and rolled and came back up again. As more and more gazes fell to her it became clear she knew exactly what she was doing. And all the while Jareth watched with them, completely abashed that his nervous little plaything had been carrying around such a nasty, nasty secret.
Sarah's eyes scanned the crowd. They were mostly watching her but this hardly phazed her. If anything it encouraged her. They looked uncertain, intimidated even. At least, that's the way her inebriated brain interpreted it. She was no longer shy of them, which was good, as they took her languid eye-contact as a signal to join.
Gradually the tone of the room began to change. People stood from their seats, or released their current partners, to join Sarah in the dance. They moved much the same way she did, confirming her suspicions, and some of the women even smiled when she caught their eye. She turned back to Jareth, a little impressed with herself.
"Well?" she asked, turning around and rolling her hips. She glanced back to make sure he was staring at her ass while she did so. She could hear cackling in the background. Exclamations of great enthusiasm. And moans. Wait, moans?
"I think…" Jareth started, still in mild disbelief. "You need to come over here. Now." There was a dark promise in those words, in that carnal glimmer in his eye. She smiled wide and moved back to him. He grabbed her by the wrist and tugged sharply. She fell into him with a gasp, her hands propping herself up on his forearms as he moved to grasp her hips tightly. She was obviously clueless to the implication of her actions, but that was just fine. He began to move her, move her with him, grinding her against his thigh as he leaned in close to whisper in her ear, "You have no idea what you've just started."
A/N - This is literally half the chapter...the second half will pick up immediately where this one ends. Regarding the flashbacks, if the Jareth/Aurelia plot line isn't for you, rest easy that there will not be any more for a little while...Although they are extremely important to the present Sarah/Jareth story so...keep track of that. ;) I hope the song/dance section translated well. I think one definitely needs to have the song fresh in their mind when reading it in order for the "feel" of it to come across. Well, anyway, until next time 3
