A/N - Alright fam, I'm posting this a little early in light of all the Corona stress many of you may be feeling. This is THE LONGEST chapter I've ever written. It's crazy. And this is only part 2. Altogether, Rock And A Hot Place is about 80k works x.x I've wondered what the hell happened to make it so long...it's probably the sex. No, it's definitely the sex. There is more sex and smut in this chapter than in any other I've written. *faints dramatically* -I suppose that is my disclaimer for those of a more delicate constitution. Hopefully that will bring you a better kind of stress than that provoked IRL. For those of you who have seen my latest fanart painting floating around the community, it is depicting a scene located somewhere in this chapter...
Chapter 24, A Rock And A Hot Place, part 2
Sarah's confidence wavered for only a second as she processed what Jareth had said. He looked happy, downright triumphant, and he kissed her openly. She pushed herself back from it.
"Hold on there a minute," she said, glancing about the room. Everyone looked just as excited as he, the number of smiles and wicked glances that were now falling her way proved foreboding. Jareth, jerking her back to attention, twirled her around and brought her back flat against his torso.
"Oh, don't stop now," he said, challengingly, and nipped at her ear. She was still watching the crowd. Sarah's ear was not the only one being nipped. She was however the one now wearing the most clothing.
It seemed her display had been more than a careless tease for Jareth. It had been a signal to all those in the room that it was time to commence something decidedly more...decadent.
Oh dear.
Jareth had swept the hair from her neck and was currently kissing it, but she was still just watching. Mouths were on mouths. And other places. Dresses and shirts fell from shoulders. Breasts pressed against breasts and the hands...the hands were...oh no. She chose not to look. Much too brazenly, articles of clothing were surreptitiously abandoned from hat to sock. Sarah's hazy gaze became worried. When she'd called it an orgy earlier, she had been exaggerating. But now-
"I didn't know you could move like that," Jareth said, turning her back to face him. He was still moving her to the music, their bodies pressed closely against one another. His smile was snakelike, predatory, and he grasped the back of her jaw as he angled her face up towards him.
"You never asked," she countered, biting his lip while her hands pressed down on his belt. His knee was in her groin again, and she moved her body against him shamelessly. "Should I be concerned...about what's happening all around us?" she asked, trying not to betray her trace apprehension. The berry certainly helped. Actually, asking him that just now felt more like a formality.
While Sarah's gaze was far too curious, Jareth had eyes only for her. He was greatly aroused by her performance, even more so by what it meant.
She'd asserted herself as his Queen. Embraced his culture as her own, and welcomed Davion's pride as her very own subjects. Of course, she had no idea, but no one else knew that. All they saw was their Queen, deeply involved in and celebrating one of their more carnal and intrinsic customs. Something that they had probably assumed she would turn her nose at. If any of Davion's harem was skeptical about their allegiance to her, he highly doubted it now. The fae loved a good party. No matter who threw it.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you," he said, teasingly. Things may very well get too out of hand for Sarah's comfort, and at that time he would whisk her safely away. However, he was also eager to push her limits, to see just how much she would indulge. Her eyes kept darting around the room, and the mild panic he saw in them brought a smile to his face. Good. It seemed that, even under the influence, she would belong only to him.
"Where is Davion?" she suddenly asked. "And Roldan and Mariella too, for that matter."
"Who cares," Jareth said, drawing her attention back to him. Her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes much too shiny. They were large in her face and her lip pouted invitingly.
The crowd was moving in closer, more and more fae joining the fray, and the sounds of music, and moaning, and laughter escalated. Sarah inched closer to Jareth, but eventually it was near impossible not to feel the regular brush of arm here or there as preoccupied fae mongrels moved in around her. She regarded several touches as intentional, a flirtatious hand twirling at a lock of she or Jareth's hair, a light grazing of fingers against his arm. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. She wasn't sure...she wasn't sure because she was high.
"Hey," Jareth said, and turned her face back to him. She was looking a little panicked. "You're with me," he said, and she knew from his tone he'd meant it reassuringly. That was, until his eyes lowered to her mouth. "Only me," he added, and raised a hand to graze a thumb across her bottom lip. His gaze had become misty, possessive, and in the heat and the humidity, under a dark golden hue and the low thrumming of the room, it was a look more dangerous and beguiling than she was equipped to handle. She looked away and smiled bashfully, which to her registered as an overly girlish and stupid reaction to have. She had a sneaking feeling this stupor was getting the better of her and Jareth was in full advantage of it. Oh well. This was exactly what she'd been asking for.
Davion clapped a hand against Roldan's back as Sarah's dancing became more and more provocative. He was thrilled. There was no way Jareth had told her what such a display would incite, and he reveled in all the delectable possibilities that were now being laid at his feet. His courtesans had begun to move, to join her game, and soon all of them, every single one, had given themselves to the drum. Roldan however stood as rigid as a statue.
"Ah-hah! Would you look at that! Roldan did you see her just now?" He was ecstatic. Elated. Incredibly turned on. He turned to Roldan with a smile akin to awe. "The way she was moving. Mm. I envy my brother now, truly. That body. Those breasts? Th-"
"You forget yourself, Davion," Roldan interjected, and he was apparently angry. Davion bit his tongue, still smiling.
"Do I?"
"She is still your Queen. You would do well not to disrespect her with your vulgarity." He was glaring from the corner of his eye, plainly unimpressed with Davion's instigations. Hm. Maybe he'd have to try a little harder.
"Readily standing to her defense already?" he teased, his smile curling a little more. "You were watching though, weren't you?" Davion's voice was lower now, slightly more serious. Roldan didn't answer, simply resituating himself against the wall. Davion wondered why he still bothered with him and hadn't yet joined the fun. "She moved like a natural born Jejuan," he continued. "What are the odds? I say, if she was a thing I was forced to spend my days in and out with, I'm sure even I would find myself quite frustrated."
"Her appearance isn't what's frustrating."
Oh. Now there was a response. Davion chuckled and straightened up.
"No. It's her tongue."
Jareth kept a possessive hold on Sarah's body as they danced. Passersby would try to join, from time to time, but he was quick enough to deny them. Sarah had shown insecurity in adding another partner, and she'd already outdone herself for one night. Besides, he wanted her all to himself. He wanted to feel, and taste, and smell her. She was sweating, a slick sheen rendering her arms, her legs, and her cheeks with a mouthwatering shine. Her makeup had started to run, making her eyes smoky and brazen. The ambient light made her glow, her body warm and honeyed.
He wanted to ravage her. He wanted to take her there on the floor like a dog. The atmosphere certainly called for it. Several bodies had already taken to such action, though he didn't think she'd yet noticed.
His hands ran up her thighs, under her skirts, and teased just below her ass. She would shoo him away but always came back. Her hands against his bare arms were hot and full of command. He imagined she felt the same way he did, from the way she would lower her gaze and pant between breaths.
Feeling the impulse, he hoisted her up suddenly and wrapped her legs around his waist.
His arms snaked around her, one hand splayed over her back while the other fisted in her hair. He looked up, pulled her down, and kissed her. Kissed her messily, boldly, and she clawed her hands around the sides of his face, returning the gesture. There was much cheering from the crowd, hollars of encouragement and other such provocations. He then moved to hold her by the ass and smiled as she pulled her mouth away from him. She was making a marvelous first impression. Just marvelous.
"Well that was dramatic," she said, laughing softly. He looked so handsome right now. So happy. She loved him like this. Loved that she could bring herself to be like this for him. She was worried he might pressure her into something but that was never the case. If anything, it probably wouldn't be that hard for her to pressure him. The thought renewed her smile and she kissed him again. "Are you enjoying yourself?"
"I'm meant to ask you that," he replied, nipping at her neck. She smelled delicious. If he didn't control himself he might end up actually biting her.
"I am. And I've got a feeling you are too." He grinned and pulled back to look at her.
"Really? A Feeling?" She was obviously referring to the bulge pressed against her sex as she clung her legs around his hips, though he chose to play coy. She leaned down to him and whispered seductively in his ear,
"Shall we call it a night then?" When she pulled back her gaze was full of suggestion.
"Indeed."
Jareth released her and took her hand, and she giggled as he turned and led her through the crowd. Bodies dispersed but not readily, leaving the two of them to muddle through, and over, trampling gown and limb alike. A few hands reached out to paw at them, inviting them to join, and while witnessing this level of debauchery up close startled Sarah it only had Jareth grinning even more salaciously. He looked perfectly in his element, leaving Sarah to briefly wonder if he had ever been with any of them before. She was bound to run into one of his past exploits...maybe it would be better to remain ignorant.
While she had assumed Jareth would lead her to the door they'd entered from, he instead led them back towards their table. The music was lulled there, with fewer people. There was a servant door tucked into the corner, one she hadn't seen. He opened it and ushered her into the hall.
Now that her eyes had time to adjust, the hall seemed brighter this time around. She took a step away from Jareth as he closed the door behind him, wondering why he hadn't simply poofed them to their room.
It was quieter out here. Easier to breathe.
She turned to glance at Jareth just as the hand that gripped hers tightened and yanked her towards him. She hit him with an 'oof' but otherwise recovered as he kissed her again. He smiled as he did so and closed his eyes; it was a look that creased his face with those distinct little lines that made him all the more beautiful. Her hands were gripping the collar of his shirt for balance, and her legs went limp as he suddenly twirled her and slammed her back against a wall.
Sarah gasped, not quite expecting that. His attentions were growing in hunger and she felt not the slightest inclination to deny him. An arm lowered to clutch tightly around her lower back, pushing her pelvis into his. His free hand pressed up her side, groping her breast before holding her at the neck.
She wondered what they must look like, if someone was perhaps watching them from the end of the hall. The worry which usually accompanied this self-awareness failed to reach her however. She attributed that to the berry too.
"Jareth-" she gasped, holding on to the back of his neck when he reached down and lifted her. His face was biting at her bosom, and his hands spread her legs and anchored them around his hips.
She was more aware now of the wall against her back, of the pressure on her spine that twinged every time he ground himself against her. She breathed in rhythm with it, dug her fingers into his hair, and looked up to the ceiling to catch her breath.
"What if-what if someone sees?" she asked. She sounded worried but the emotion wasn't really there. She looked to the end of the hall and found it vacant. They, and their sounds, were the only things there.
Jareth undid his belt and unclasped the fly of his pants, and then raised his hands to grip her face.
"Then we tell them to leave," he said, turning her attention back to him and giving her a hot, heart-pounding kiss. She noticed his eyes were glazed over, like he was staring through her, and she realized he was just as much affected by the edible as she was. Well that was reassuring. Maybe.
She felt his hands go back to her thighs, felt them splay widely and greedily, and pushed up her skirts. She felt hot again, the heat from his breath making beads of sweat run down her cleavage. His mouth was searing against her neck and she moaned compulsively when his fingers thrust inside her.
She inched higher up the wall, her voice rising in pitch as her knees clung to him. She was already hot and wet, and her body took him eagerly. She arched her head back against the wall and held onto his shoulders. He held his hand pressed firmly against her and moved his fingers in a subtle, deep gesture. She felt her mouth water with the desire to devour him, to take him in her mouth and in her cunt and anywhere else he felt so inclined.
Sensing her urgency, he withdrew his hand and positioned himself to enter her. He penetrated her easily, his taut erection stretching and filling, and left her with an even greater wanting. She moved her hips into him, clutched his head to her chest while he held her by the ass and thrusted into her over and over. She felt wanton. She was wanton. She was being exactly who she wanted to be. The idea of someone sneaking up on them terrified and enthralled her. She felt controlled and poised and anything but inferior.
She was moaning without restraint and Jareth responded in kind. He pulled her hips to meet each thrust and followed her when she instinctively inched up the wall. He wanted her to feel all of him and offered no mercy for the slight pain that might have caused.
Suddenly he felt her hands leave him as she braced against the wall. She pushed off of it, which had him staggering back a step.
"Get down. Now," she said, and he obeyed instinctively. He lowered them to his knees and let her ride astride him as she pushed his chest until he laid back against the floor. She leaned up over him and placed both hands against his sternum for support. Jareth's hands went to her hips and he rolled his own head back when she began forcing unto him an equally merciless undultation.
Sarah bit her lip and reached back to pull the hair away from her neck. It was too damned hot to be wedged against the wall like that. Jareth reached up and took hold of the hem of her bodice, then yanked her down to his level sharply. She smiled at him, their noses brushing as they moved.
And then they heard footsteps.
Sarah stopped completely and straightened up. Her head darted to the left, to the end of the hall, where three fae ladies were just rounding the corner.
Her hands were pressed against Jareth's chest and her knees protruded from the discretion of her skirt as she sat straddling his hips. All sets of eyes locked immediately, and the women stopped dead in their tracks.
Oh my, what ever would Sarah do? Jareth mused.
He too turned his gaze towards the women, though his posture was considerably more relaxed and a naughty little smile seared his face.
Sarah stared at them and realized, much to her relief, that they were not laughing at her as she'd expected. No, if anything they looked afraid. She remembered in that moment that she was The Queen. Fae or not, she could have them all bogged.
"Well? Go on then," she said, waving them off like a litter of lost puppies. The women blinked, bowed deeply, and scurried off. Sarah laughed to herself. That felt really good. She turned her attention back to Jareth. He was already smiling at her, wryly.
"See. I told you, you'd make a good Queen."
Davion stood with his back slouched against the wall. He had been quiet for a moment, surveying the room as his thoughts drifted from him. As much as he enjoyed these festivities, after a while even he found it desensitizing. Maybe that was why he was still just standing there, impervious to the glower now radiating heavily from Roldan. He was wishing for him to leave, Davion mused. Well, no one was stopping Roldan from doing the same. His eyes landed on Mariella briefly. She was laughing with a band of friends across the room. She looked happy. It was something he was surprised to have missed.
His attention was drawn however by the sound of the main doors opening. He peered over, saw a few of his ladies scuttling through with very wild and fevered looks on their faces. Now that didn't happen often. They were smiling and held hands over their mouths as they spoke to each other in a hushed tone. There was something curious about it. His eyes went from them, to the door, to the other end of the room where he knew that hallway led and…
"Oh my," Davion said, his imminent boredom leaving as a new smile stretched his face. He rolled his head to Roldan, who only sighed in aggravation that he was being spoken to once again. There was an allure to Davion's words, something Roldan knew he would be better off ignoring. He failed.
"What?" Roldan asked. Davion's arm wrapped around Roldan's shoulders and he slinked against him again. His head was lowered, hovering over Roldan's chest, at just the perfect angle to draw his gaze as he reached up and dabbed a sensual finger against his lip before pointing to the door on the far side of the room.
"I do believe...my brother and sister are currently fucking in that hall way. Say, shall we take a peek?" He laughed as an unwarranted level of tension had Roldan recoiling immediately, leaving him to stagger to his feet as Roldan shoved himself free and took a step away.
"Mind yourself," Roldan growled. He wanted to storm away but had nowhere to go. The castle was littered with Davion's drunken whores and he doubted his room was any safer.
Davion started chuckling and raised his hands appeasingly.
"My, so uptight! One would think if they minded an audience, they would have gone some place more private?" he said. Roldan was shaking his head, angered and disgusted.
"You're getting ahead of yourself. You have no reason to even think that is where they are or what they are doing." Davion shrugged, swaying with a dangerous air Roldan hadn't yet noticed.
"You're right. I don't," he said, then licked the backs of his teeth as he glanced away. "But I intend to find out nonetheless, with or without you…" He pointed a mocking finger at Roldan before turning on his heel. Without thinking, Roldan reached out and took hold of his arm, firmly.
"Davion-"
There was a pause, Davion's posture unchanging as a terrible, wicked grin lit up his face. He turned back to Roldan slowly, saw the look of regret etched in his face, before looking down to the hand he still held around his arm. There was now a pointed look in Davion's eye and his brow rose accordingly.
"Roldan, I think it is now you who is getting ahead of yourself."
Roldan tensed and swallowed hard. Davion's tone had dropped significantly, his glare challenging and eager for it. Roldan released his arm and composed himself. He should not have done that. Davion was still a prince.
Davion straightened with a new aura about him, one Roldan knew better than to engage with. He was like his brother in far too many ways. Only, Davion seemed to enjoy it more. He was about to say something when a sudden burst of laughter caught them both by surprise.
"Ah! Gwyneth, you are simply too much! But I must! I must!" Mariella turned with a wave of the hand. She was smiling, her cheeks rosy and her eyelids barely able to lift themselves. She'd been approaching the two, oblivious to their tension, though her careless bawl had thankfully shredded it. Roldan took a step back as she staggered to the space between them. Davion's smile fell to a grin, and though his eyes found new interest in her, Roldan doubted his outburst had been so easily forgotten. "My dear lords!" she cheered, too loudly, and leaned forward to grasp Davion's arm. He braced for her, allowing herself to regain balance. "Forgive me, but have you seen Sarah? I seem to have lost my Queen!" She was laughing again, totally ignorant to her surroundings. Roldan cleared his throat. He'd have to remember to thank Mariella for this later.
"I believe she and Jareth have retired for the night," he said, shooting Davion a stern eye. Oh, how audacious. Even now he was still challenging him? Davion chose to let this act of impertinence go however. He had enough punishment lined up for the fool in the night ahead.
Mariella frowned deeply and turned to look all around the room.
"Have they really? Oh dear, I should have noticed," she said, tapping her lip with an anxious finger. "Well, I suppose I must be off then. Goodnight, gentlemen," she said, dipping her head and turning to leave without a second thought. Davion caught her by the arm and pulled her back.
"Leaving so soon? I don't think Sarah would mind if you stayed a bit longer," he said, the usual playfulness returning to his voice. Roldan took in a steady breath, realizing just how close he'd come to discipline. Why had he done that? What in the world possessed him to lay a hand on him like that? The thought of Sarah...of he and Sarah, and Jareth, and...No. No, he didn't need to be thinking about any of that.
Mariella swayed as she pondered the offer.
"Mmm...No, I don't think she would mind either. However, I am a Queen's Maiden. I cannot simply prance around as I wish. If My Lady has taken to bed, then so must I." She sounded resolute and not the least bit disappointed. Davion released her effortlessly.
"Well, she has certainly taken to something," he mumbled, before locking his arm with hers. "But if that is your wish, then please allow me to escort you to your room."
"Oh, how generous of you My Lord," she said, grinning, and turned the look back to Roldan.
"Goodnight, Master Roldan!" she said. Roldan nodded, trying his best to ignore the shrewd backward glance Davion threw over his shoulder.
"Yes...have a good night." Davion's tone was much more clipped, though not without amusement. Then he leaned back a little further, so only Roldan could hear. "And a word of advice my friend? Embrace your fetishes. You'll live a much healthier life that way." He turned back to Mariella and smiled down to her, all traces of annoyance vanishing in an instant. He utterly ignored Roldan after that, leading Mariella away and then dipped down to whisper in her ear, "I think it's time we had a bit of fun ourselves, eh?" Mariella giggled and skipped a little faster. Oh, how she adored him.
Roldan stood alone, finally, although with much dismay. He let out a long breath and relaxed his shoulders. Perhaps Davion really had brushed off the indiscretion. He wondered then why he had stayed so long and allowed Jareth's brother to rile him so. He thought maybe he was being stoic, occupying all of Davion's attention while Sarah and Jareth were free to enjoy the night, though even he knew there was little truth to that. He was not so selfless.
Against his instincts, Davion's words continued to crawl through his head and images of Sarah, hot and humming, sizzled out of his mind just as soon as they appeared. He was trying to rattle him, obviously, but why it was so easy for him to do so, Roldan didn't know. He spent the majority of his time detesting Sarah. And yet-
His eyes briefly wandered to the door in question, the one Davion had suggested they were fornicating behind, and he found himself….no. No. He would not for even one minute allow himself to imagine them in such a way.
He turned on a dime and left the room. None of his superiors were here anymore. There was nothing keeping him.
He found himself being shoved as compromised persons fumbled and tumbled past him. Hands were being led and doors were promptly shut. He ignored it. Such was the norm in these parts.
He made his way to his room. The same room he always stayed in when visiting this place. It was farther away than the rest, on the edge of the dormitories, and he was for some reason thankful to be so far away from Jareth. He'd been feeling awkward around him lately. Ashamed in a manner he'd long since forgotten.
Another image of Sarah flashed behind his eyes, red frills and sodden lace. Bright smokey eyes and…
He gripped the handle to the door fiercely, wondering if he really would be better off spending the night in a snowbank. He thought of her wedding night then. Of the way he found himself stricken dumb. Then he thought of Jareth, and the warning he'd been given at her fitting… He scowled and shook his head. He was being stupid.
It was then that a noise distracted him, a faint shuffling of sorts from within the room. He knew who was there. Davion had made that much clear.
He opened the door and stepped inside. His head had been lowered, but when it rose he found himself frozen. His hand, still gripping the handle of the door, trembled and then jerked it shut behind him abruptly. His eyes went wide and his mouth went dry as panic, utter panic, shot through him.
"...Sarah?"
There was a woman on his bed, placed directly in front of him. She was poised facing away from him with her legs bent, her sheer negligee ruffled up past her thighs and a delicate hand dipping between them. Her gown was ill-fitted and hung wantonly off one shoulder. Her face was turned away, dark, raven-colored hair obscuring her profile from him. He stood and stared in utter shock, until she turned and looked at him. Her bright eyes and face pierced him, though as uncanny as it was, he realized pitifully, how deplorable his own reaction had been. This was not Sarah. Of course it wasn't fucking Sarah.
"Where is Candela?" he asked, nearly growling as he did so. He had expected her to be waiting but this…
"Don't worry. I'm here." His expression hardened with anger as another figure emerged. He looked over reflexively, realizing Candela had been there all along. She was pouring them drinks, her long nightgown swaying gracefully as she stepped around the table to the left of the bed. Roldan felt his jaw tensing. He should just leave. Right now.
Candela approached him effortlessly, and he tried to keep his eyes on her and not the doppelganger still reposed silently on his bed. She smiled, stepping close to him, and reached out to place her hands flat against his chest. He stood rigidly, his scowl never more intense.
"I've missed you," she said, tilting her head meekly as she fluttered her lashes. Her eyes were a deep grey. They reminded him of the ocean after a storm. He stared into them, trying, much too aggressively, to abate his own tension. If Jareth saw them right now…
"It hasn't been that long," he said, trying not to fist his hands as she ran her own languidly down his front. It was only a couple months since he'd last been here -though that stay had been cut short. He shook his head subtly. No. He did not regret leaving her.
"I know. T'is a real treat," she said. She had a delicate voice, light and smooth. She spoke softly at all times and had a way of carrying herself that usually melted him on the spot. Not tonight however. Tonight her touch was like hot iron.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked and begrudgingly gave in to dart his gaze towards the bed. "...of her." In that moment he allowed himself to spy on her. She had yet to speak but had turned towards them slightly. Her eyes were wide, her expression expectant. She looked young. Very young. And she played with a lock of hair almost nervously as she watched them.
"Lord Davion says your tastes may be evolving," Candela said, calling back his attention. She stepped away from him and reached out for the girl. Their hands met and she stepped off the bed to present herself before him. She took a few steps, her head lowered in deference. Only once she stood directly before him did Candela release her hand. The girl looked up and met his gaze brazenly. "This is Serena," Candela said, gesturing towards her as if her name had any relevance at all. Roldan stared down at her, at her large, beaming eyes. They were hazel, green with prominent flecks of gold. He did not admire them at all.
"And she is here because…?" He glared sharply at Candela. Though she may act it, she was by no means naive. He didn't appreciate her handling him in this manner.
"Lord Davion implied you might enjoy both our company tonight." He caught Candela's hands lower to Serena's arms possessively and he sneered in disgust. The girl was meek, standing and staring shamelessly without uttering so much as a single word. His eyes rose and fell over her quickly. She was about the same height as Sarah, shared the same complexion, hair, and general bone structure. He tried to ignore it, but the fabric of her gown left little to the imagination, and his mind's eye remarked, quite astutely, that she seemed to possess the same curvaceous shape as Sarah as well. He looked away and curled his lip in distaste. Of all the boorish stunts for Davion to pull…
"Your Lord presumes too much, Candela," Roldan said, a deep ire lacing his words. Candela, completely unfazed, gave a slight shrug and stepped away.
"I'll let you two get better acquainted," she said. Roldan watched her closely as she walked away, as the light from the wall behind her silhouetted her figure within her dress. She was a very slight woman, gentle curves and narrow joints. Her long golden hair fell in tussled tumbles, and she reached back to ruffle it in a manner she knew he liked. He wasn't quite paying attention when Serena stepped closer towards him.
"You're more handsome than I thought you'd be," she said, dryly. He turned back to face her just as her hand grazed down the length of his chest. His eyes followed it, catching on the delicate lines of her fingers.
He grabbed her hand and held it away from him.
"I think you need to leave," he said, and was almost caught off guard by the look of near-genuine hurt in her eyes. She inched back, glancing over to Candela nervously. He thought then she must be new to Davion's court, her physical appearance perhaps a more accurate reflection of her age.
"Oh Master Roldan, how rude." He looked over to Candela as well to find her scolding him, her brow twisted in a slight look of disapproval. "I urge you to reconsider, lest you insult her," she added, confident enough in her hold over him not to put up with any of his griping. Lord Davion had given her strict instructions after all, and it wasn't very often she got to share her little pet. Roldan hesitated. Candela's look was drawn in a faint scowl, a chiding expression that never sat well with him. At a distance the resemblance was truly remarkable. Maybe that was why he always held her close.
"Am I not to your liking?"
Roldan tore his eyes away from Candela and brought them back to the girl. She was frowning at him, apparently at a loss that he would reject her, without even the faintest idea why. He pitied her. There was a naivety about her that didn't match her uncanny resemblance. Her lips worried under her teeth and the hand that once touched him pulled back from his grasp to press against her sternum. She seemed genuinely affected. Perhaps this was a test then? A trial for the poor girl before she would be accepted into Davion's court? That line of thinking repulsed him further.
"You have no obligation to be here. If you want to leave, I will not say a foul word otherwise," he said, expecting to see a wave of relief wash over her. Instead her brow only furrowed more.
"Why would I want to leave you?"
He was caught off guard by her tone, by that wide look of longing she continued to project at him. He tried, terribly, to look away from her, but something disgusting had rooted him in place. Davion's words haunted him once more, forbidden enticements that hand him tensing in frustration. Again, images of Sarah's dance came unwelcomed to the forefront of his mind: her breathy smile, her bared legs, the trails of sweat that lured every gaze in the room down the entirety of her body's contour. Hands that were not his held her and touched her without reservation. He did not want her. He did not envy Jareth.
Yet this girl's face had sent him reeling. Not because of how much she resembled her, but because of all the subtle details that made them different. He was angry because this woman looked so much like Sarah. He was angrier because she did not resemble her enough.
He hated Davion for placing him at the mercy of such temptation, but he hated himself more. And then Jareth's own words rang through, telling him he did not care for whatever feelings he may have for Sarah, so long as he owned up to it. Flog yourself to your heart's content. He'd told himself he had no feelings for Sarah. None that were good. Then again, nothing about his current situation was good either.
He was lost in this dangerous train of thought when he felt hands on him again. He flinched back, turning his head sharply as Candela reached around him from behind. Their eyes met briefly, and then hers lowered as she kissed his neck. He arched to it on reflex and loathed himself all the more. He closed his eyes and the memory of Sarah's own arms wrapping around him in the hall that day sent a shiver down his spine. He was trying to forget that, to forget how comforting her touch had felt.
She continued to leave light little kisses along his neck. He may be resigning himself from Serena, but Candela knew her touch was something he very rarely objected to.
"Don't worry," she whispered to him, seductively. "Davion is most discreet. Nothing to fear." She spoke softly, in a high feminine pitch, and let her eyes peer to Serena the moment she felt him become distracted by it. She had been meeting with Roldan for many decades now, and over such an expanse of time had learned to maneuver him in all the right ways. He was often resistant in the beginning, but it made what later ensued all the more enjoyable. She had no idea why Davion had chosen her for this task all those years ago, why he always insisted she keep her hair down, and curled, and perfectly blonde, why they always met in secret on the nights he came to stay for the review. She did not ask for the answer to any of these questions however. She did not mind being shared, and it kept her useful to Davion over the centuries as many other courtesans came and went. Besides, she genuinely enjoyed Roldan. He was a mercurial man indeed, but not without vigor. She knew she reminded him of someone. Apparently, Serena did as well.
Candela's eyes on Serena were met with understanding. The girl reached out and began to untie the front of Roldan's shirt. Davion had told her to play the innocent, to be ever-so-demure and even inexperienced, while she was anything but. And it was obvious it had caught Roldan off guard. He looked down to her, with that same intensity that almost gave her pause. However this time he did not stop her; he merely watched as she separated the tassles and brought the tips of her fingers to the flesh beneath. He felt Candela's hands roaming over him, and he inhaled slowly when those same fingers gingerly pushed open the halves of his shirt to hang from his shoulders. Serena thought he looked like he might combust at any moment. That, or pounce.
Serena tore her eyes from his and lowered them over his torso. He looked angry and she had been warned he probably would be. She was also told to disregard this completely. She did not hesitate at his anger. She'd been a courtesan for several centuries and knew how to handle men like him.
She reached out again and undid the remaining ties leading down his stomach. Again, he was motionless, simply letting himself be touched. Candela nipped on his neck a little harder now. She could tell he was becoming aroused, whether he chose to act on it or not. The pulse in his neck beat faster beneath her lips and his gaze, which she spied on from her peripheral, was glued, searingly, to Serena.
Serena's hands made quick work of the knots and gave way as Candela's pulled the hem of his shirt from his pants. His teeth gritted when the young girl's hands rose and gently pushed his shirt down and off his arms. He was just standing there. Every fiber of his being was screaming how wrong this was, what would befall him should Jareth or even Sarah learn of it. Yet here he was, becoming increasingly bothered by a woman who looked up at him in a way Sarah never had, whose long dark tresses just barely covered her breasts as her nightgown slowly inched down her arms…
She reached out to touch him again, to place her palms flat against the hard muscle of his stomach, and feel her way up. Her touch angered him with its tenderness, with how careful she was being. He bit his tongue as Davion's final words chimed through his thoughts. Embrace your fetishes, he'd said. He almost laughed. Sarah was hot-blooded. Aggressive. This woman before him made a poor rendition.
She leaned in to plant a kiss against the center of his chest. Candela was distracting him well with expert touches, but not even the faint waft of pheromones he smelled in the air was enough to dissuade him from reaching out and grasping her by the shoulder.
He reached with both hands and held Serena firmly. She looked up to him, and for a moment he thought he'd won. He thought he'd conquered his own dark urges for just long enough to send the two of them away. However...as his eyes left hers, as they traveled down her face and neck, over her bare shoulders and the darkened peaks of her nipples that showed through her barely-there nightgown, he felt...nothing. No guilt. No shame. Nothing. His thumbs pressed into her as his hands reluctantly ran along her skin and, silently, he began to push down the hem of her gown ever-so-slowly, watching as it just barely clung to her.
She lowered her arms and it fell to the floor. Candela had paused, watching from over his shoulder eagerly. There was still firm tension about him, yet the blaze in his eyes was something more familiar to her. He was close to breaking, deeply troubled over his desire in a way she remembered all too well.
He leaned in, away from Candela's grasp, and closed his eyes as he smelled her. He felt her hair brush against his cheek, the soft delicate flesh of her neck grazing his nose. She smelled sweet, of perfume, and wine, and pheromones. Suddenly he was in the hall again, embracing his best friend's wife and inhaling of her deeply. She smelled nothing like this woman. This was wrong.
He flinched at the feeling of Candela unbuttoning his pants. The sound was louder than it should have been and he opened his eyes fractionally as the compulsion to tear himself away became disturbingly distant. Was he really such a creature? So easily corrupted by the wiles of these women who were not his? Of the ghosts he saw in their eyes... With a scowl he closed his eyes again, not fighting Candela's efforts in the slightest. Serena leaned forward and kissed his torso, her mouth hot and open against his chest, and darted her tongue out boldly to lick in a slow circle. It startled him but his only reaction was a sharp breath. His hands still held her by the arms, contended over the desire to touch her elsewhere.
He lowered slightly, holding his head against her shoulder as he warred within himself. The woman who was definitely not Sarah was touching him again, feeling her way along his abdominals with such delicacy. He was gripping her tightly, and he grimaced as he turned his head and lightly ran his tongue along her neck. Would it really be so bad to pretend...just once…?
Candela smiled from her all-too-perfect vantage. Roldan was an angry man, a weak man, a man who broke under his own constraints. Seducing him had always been easy, but even this was surprising to her. He was fighting himself, but not as fiercely as he could be. He wanted this woman. Badly. And she grinned in wicked delight over her Lord's twisted sense of humor. She'd caught a glimpse of the Queen before sequestering herself in this room. It was surely no coincidence how similar they looked.
She could feel a new bout of hesitation move through him and pulled herself from her musing. She reached down, beneath the confines of his pants, and began working him. He groaned reflexively and jerked, though again made no effort to stop her. He was already hard in her hand, and she kissed the back of his shoulder before leaning up on her toes to whisper in his ear,
"Shall I watch you take her first? Or will you watch us take each other?"
Roldan nearly balked at her words, pulling him from the moment just as much as they thrust him into it. He felt Serena's hand at his cheek, urging him up. He obliged and straightened as she left a new trail of kisses up his neck. Both mouths were on him, Candela's hand working him lower in a slow but firm rhythm. He looked up, his eyes still closed in a grimace, and released Serena's shoulders. Four hands roamed him as two mouths bit, and licked, and teased, and he tried with every fiber of his being to see nothing but blackness behind his eyelids.
A heavy breath escaped him and his chest heaved. He exhaled hard through his nose and looked down, giving in to open his eyes and witness them. The dark haired maiden rose to her toes and leaned past him. His eyes followed, watching with a deep-seeded lust as the two women kissed and nipped at each other just out of his reach. He didn't realize Serena had taken over for Candela's hand, but was made all too aware once the blonde left and stepped around him. She eyed him hungrily, moving to stand behind Serena and ensure his eyes got a good look at her nude figure. She reached up and brushed the hair that had fallen over Serena's shoulder and planted on it a lingering kiss.
Roldan closed his eyes again as the feeling of this beautiful, destructive, entirely-unwelcome girl touching him snapped the last semblance of his restraint. He ground his teeth, angry that he was showing so much consideration towards his tormentors. His thoughts turned bitter, selfish, and a desperate, suffocated need overtook him. Jareth would kill him if he found out. But...Jareth wasn't here right now. Candela knew this look and backed away from the two of them slowly.
In a moment of spiteful abandon, Roldan reached down and hoisted the girl up in the air. She gasped but wrapped her legs around him readily and clung her hands to the back of his neck. He was very strong, very built, his thick arms flexing as he carried her the few paces to the bed.
He dropped her to the mattress and was no sooner pressing himself against her as his knees spread her legs further apart. He kept his eyes closed, kept his face below hers in shame, and kissed and bit at her chest messily. Candela sat back in a nearby chair. She'd never gotten to watch before. She found the sight of him enticing -a sheen of sweat glistening the thick muscles of his arms and back, the way his black hair curled under the humidity. He was so impassioned he hadn't even bothered removing the rest of his clothes. Was this what he looked like when they were together? She appreciated him a little more now. She was keen to let him have his way for a while longer, however. Davion had insisted on it.
He heard light moans and breathy pleads escape the mouth above him, but it only had him scowling harder. Their voices did not sound the same and he hated that he could not stop himself from making the comparison. She was clawing her arms around his back, pressing down in encouragement as he ground into her. She was soft, and pale, and filled his greedy hands. Her hips, her breasts, her narrow waist, he reveled in it all. He reveled in her taste and the color of her hair and how easy it was to forget himself. He reached down and thrust his fingers inside her without consideration. She moaned, squirming away from him as he worked her deeply. She felt tight around him, but wet and hot and greedy as a good courtesan should. Her body pulled him into her and he fucked her with his hands, panting roughly as desire made his manner more aggressive.
He released himself from his pants and thrust into her, hard.
She moaned again, this time her voice rising an octave in genuine surprise. He buried his face in her neck and let the sounds envelope him. Her breathing was quick and strained under the harsh pace he set. His hands held her hips, pinning her down as he arched deftly. He was so angry. So ungodly angry. He felt humiliated and deplorable, without honor and altogether alive. He'd been so stressed since Sarah had come to the Underground. He'd hated and resented and yearned, and it was like all of those feelings were culminating to this pitiful, wretched moment. Everyone looked down on him. All they did was mock.
He wanted to feel someone writhe. He wanted to hear someone moan. He wanted to feel lost and at ease, and touched by hands that knew how he suffered. He did not envy Jareth. He did not want Sarah. Even as he watched her dance with eyes unblinking, as he watched her, motionless and beside himself with Davion chiming in his ear, he did not want her. He told himself this over and over.
It didn't matter. Even if the thoughts were negative, even if they were bitter and scouring for fault, they were all still about her. And the image refused to leave, her eyes behind his own refused to leave. He remembered the way she'd felt when they danced, when they'd practiced and she'd tumbled and he'd caught her by the waist. No. It meant nothing. But even as he thought this, as he shamed himself, over and over, and scowled tighter -he fucked her harder still.
He'd pulled back to take a breath, to kiss along her jaw and feel her wetted lips with his thumb, when she suddenly turned towards him. Her eyelids were wilting and her breath was heavy, and she brought her hands to the sides of his face as she attempted to kiss him. Roldan's hand darted up instantly and took hold of her face. He held her in place, held her so he could not see her eyes as he bit the corner of her jaw. When he turned her face away from him she gasped and moaned, calling out his name in a way that deeply unsettled him.
"Oh, Master Roldan," she'd said. And it nearly made him cringe. Another wave of disgust hit him in response to his own reaction. She never called him that. She was too impertinent. He loathed the foul taste that hearing her say his proper title had put in his mouth, for he would rather she had called him as she did. He shook his head into the crook of her neck as he gripped her thighs harder. He was trying so fucking hard not to think of her.
Feeling even more frustrated, he leaned up off of her and grabbed her by the hips, averting his eyes from hers as he flipped her into her stomach. He pulled her ass up to him and crouched over her to fist a hand in the hair at the nape of her neck. He took her again roughly, holding her face pinned away from him and leaving her voice muffled as he did so. He found it was easier to disconnect in this position, easier to clear his thoughts, and rolled his head back as the sight of her ass and his dick slamming in and out of her brought him close to climax-
"My, Master Roldan, it's as if you've forgotten me entirely."
He was jerked back to attention at the sound of Candela's voice in his ear. He turned towards her fractionally and she kissed him before he had the chance to avert it. This time he gave in to it, closed his eyes and kissed her deeply. She was familiar to him, a shame he'd resigned himself to a long time ago. His impending orgasm faded as he leaned up, holding Candela's face close to his as he continued to thrust deeply into Serena over and over. Candela reached down and gripped the base of his cock, squeezed tightly, and jerked him as he moved in and out of the poor girl beneath him. He moaned roughly, bitterly, and gave himself to her caress.
Sarah stared at the walls around her as she ran her fingers along Jareth's bare chest. They were back in their room and the quiet was close to unnerving. There was a faint ringing in her ears, though she wasn't unsure if it was from the volume of the music or another effect of the berry.
After their romp in the hallway, Jareth had deigned to return them here, where he was all too eager to have a truly nasty way with her. It seemed the public exposure had aroused them both, as they crashed from the bed, to the floor, to the chair and back again. She had no idea what time it was, only that her stupor had started to fade and her eyelids were heavy with the desire to sleep.
She smiled as she laid her head against him, watching the subtle rhythm of his breath as it moved his chest. He held an arm tightly around her, his hand still hot from their exertions. With new lucidity, she wondered what everyone else was up to, if they were still up and partying or had long since passed out. She imagined Marie spending her night with Davion, and possibly others. Roldan, well, he'd probably locked himself in a closet.
She snuggled closer to Jareth and ran the tip of her finger down his abdomen.
"Did I do alright tonight?" she asked. Jareth's chest rose a little higher as he took in a breath, like she'd woken him from a light sleep. His grip on her hip tightened.
"You did wonderful," he said, which had her grinning in spite of herself.
"So me inciting that orgy was a good thing?" she asked, losing confidence as she came down from her high. Jareth laughed, the sound reverberating deep in her ear as she held it pressed to his chest.
"Yes," he said, simply. Sarah thought to press him further but bit her lip instead.
"Well that's good. I was worried maybe I'd made a fool of myself." Their blanket was pooled at Jareth's hips, a little too low and a little too provocative. She eyed it with lingering attraction but knew they were both well spent for the night.
"Hardly," Jareth said, shifting as he positioned an arm behind his head. "I don't think I've ever enjoyed a visit to this place so much in my entire life."
While he'd meant it as a compliment, it had been registered to Sarah as something else entirely. She pursed her lips and laid her palm flat against his pec.
"Is your brother really that bad?" she asked and felt him shift again. It was a moment before he responded, and she felt the desire to look up to him to see what his expression was.
"Yes," he finally said, though she knew he was keeping something back. Giving in to the urge, she peered up to him. His expression was surprisingly detached.
"I think you have a soft spot for him," she said, which had him looking down at her with a grin.
"Do I?" he asked, sardonically. He was still smiling but she saw through it. She shifted up a little bit so she could watch him.
"Yes...He's the only person I've yet seen who acts and talks to you as if he knows nothing will happen. Like he already knows he's going to get away with it. I just feel...if he was anyone else, you would have put his head on a spike a long time ago," she said, watching his grin dull to a faint curl of the lips. He was staring up at the canopy covering their bed, and she wondered if he kept his gaze from her on purpose.
"Aside from you, you mean?" he asked, again with sarcasm. Sarah frowned a little.
"You seem to endure him more than anything. There are still moments when I know enough to be afraid of you. Davion seems carefree," she said, hoping her candor would urge him to take this more seriously. Jareth shot her an eye, debating whether or not to call her out on her supposed fear of him. Instead he shrugged and a faint sigh escaped him.
"I suppose then, you may be right," he admitted, to her honest surprise. He took another deep breath and turned his gaze back to the canopy. "He is afterall my brother. The only living family I have left. He infuriates me, but I've also spent the majority of my life protecting him, cleaning up his messes and making sure they did not turn into disasters." Sarah mulled this over carefully, knowing he was referring to the abuse they suffered at the hands of their father. She chose not to address that right now.
"Does he infuriate you perhaps because you are in fact disturbingly similar?" she asked, teasingly. Jareth smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Is that so?" he asked, rhetorically. Sarah allowed herself a sly grin.
"Absolutely. The way he acted tonight was the same way you used to act when I first came here."
"I guess I should consider myself lucky then," he said, catching her a little off guard. His arm around her curled and lifted her to him. He glanced down and their eyes met. "Perhaps, rather than discipline, I should find my darling little brother a wife of his own." Now that was unexpected, though she figured out immediately that he was joking. She narrowed her eyes and scoffed.
"I don't think what he needs is as simple as a wife," she said, playfully.
"No. He needs someone to love so desperately that it tears at the very fiber of his being."
When she didn't immediately retort he peered down to her. She was staring up at him all wide-eyed as if abashed. He huffed through his nose and looked away with a chuckle. Her instinctive reaction to every one of his professions of love had been sheer panic. He might have been offended by it had he not deserved it.
Sarah, seeing the humor in his eyes, scowled and looked away. He was making fun of her, but over what she wasn't sure. He'd told her he loved her twice that day, several times all together, and never had she had the courage to say it back. Did she want to? Did she feel it? Yes. Undoubtedly yes. She wondered if her silence hurt him, but chose not to worry about that now. She didn't want to ruin their repose with something so somber.
"So you punish him too then? Even Davion?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
"I have. In the past." He spoke dryly, clearly wanting her to move on to something else. She lowered her gaze and began to graze her fingers along his torso once more.
"I'm a little surprised," she said, distractedly. "I kind of expected more from him tonight, but he just up and disappeared after dinner."
"No he didn't. He was watching you, along with Roldan."
"Oh?" she said, curiously glancing up to him. He had a rather complacent look on his face, like the idea of other men openly longing for her brought him pride.
"I imagine you made quite the impression on the lot of them," he said, and from the subtle way his lips curled her suspicion was confirmed. She narrowed her eyes and bit her cheek.
"I doubt it."
"Don't underestimate yourself, love. Whatever you may have intended, you were not dancing only for me." To which she had no retort. That was definitely true.
"Great…" was all she could say, rolling her eyes away from him with a sigh. This wasn't giving her the same bolster of ego it clearly gave him.
"Yes. It was."
Sarah pursed her lips but couldn't stop the smile. She was glad he had enjoyed himself, having worried the night might have been ruined after Davion's performance. She thought of Jareth's singing then, of what it might sound like if he hummed her to sleep. The idea made her smile, and she clung to him a little tighter as she relaxed and drifted off in that dream.
Davion sat on the edge of the bed as he buttoned the fly of his pants. Mareilla, devastatingly unconscious, slept quietly behind him. It was nice having her here again, though he would have preferred she remained lively for just a bit longer. Apparently her tolerance for his charms was waning already, leaving her much too incoherent for his liking after merely an hour or so of their games. He let her sleep and found himself clicking his tongue as he mulled over his current state of boredom.
Rubbing a hand down his face, he inhaled deeply and conjured a handful of crystals. They twirled along his fingers and he stared into them absently. He thought to check in on Jareth and Sarah, but was unsurprised to find his efforts blocked. In the next crystal he spied on Roldan and found himself grinning. He was perhaps the most pitiful man he'd ever met. While he would love to reveal their dealings to Jareth, he'd much rather continue to hang these dirty secrets over his head. The King's advisor had become much more manageable that way.
The crystals continued to turn, and in each he spied on a different set of guests, contemplating whom he should choose to entertain. It was his duty to make sure everyone was well looked after. The sights he saw left him unfazed however. It seemed, all too recently, that his usual fancies had become tasteless. He heard Mariella sigh and he sagged again. The boredom was unbearable. Maybe he was just preoccupied. Maybe he should try checking in on Sarah again…
Sarah flinched and drew up her arms. She groaned, pulling her blanket towards her, and shifted away from the tickle at her back. It stopped and she relaxed, before the feeling landed on her again in a different spot. Now it was on her shoulder, tracing a delicate line that had her turning over to face it. She opened her eyes and they fluttered as the haze cleared. The touch was a hand. A hand which belonged to Davion.
Sarah's eyes widened and she drew back, scuttled to an upright position, and clung the blanket close to her throat.
"Davion? What the fuck?" She swore and glared, her chest rising dramatically from the burst of adrenaline. At first she'd thought it was Jareth, but those eyes. His eyes were distinctly different.
Davion grinned and sat upright with her. He however was less concerned with the blanket and left it to pool around his hips. Sarah's eyes darted up and down him frantically. He was shirtless.
"Hello. Took you long enough." There was a lightness to his voice, a sense of pleasantry that had no place in the situation. Sarah glared harder and looked all around the room.
"What are you talking about? Where the fuck are we?"
They were not in her and Jareth's room. In fact, Jareth was nowhere to be found. They sat on a bed tussled with mats of light pink sheets and the walls were draped in deep, heavily layered curtains of a darker hue. Davion's grin widened and she caught his tongue as it moved along his teeth.
"Where do you think?" he asked, and she took the moment to compose herself. She looked around once again but found no door. There was ambient light in the room but with no source. This place was familiar to her. She gripped her blanket tighter and realized...she too was undressed.
"This is a dream?" she half-asked, wondering what would be worse, that, or reality.
"Very good," Davion said, bouncing a finger at her as he leaned forward and repositioned himself. Sarah's eyes couldn't help but drop. The blanket moved lower and she saw...he was not wearing any pants either.
"Get out," Sarah demanded. She was outraged, near terrified, memories of Jareth's past dream-raping coming vividly to mind. Davion wouldn't dare, would he?
Davion shrugged.
"I will. When you mean it."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked with a snap. Davion tilted his head as he regarded her, a most predatory mannerism.
"Sarah, I would have thought you of all people would be well acquainted with dreamcasting by now," he said, to which Sarah scowled. Apparently, Jareth's late-night tendencies were not something unknown.
"I am," she stated, though with less conviction than she'd hoped. Where the fuck was Jareth? Was this even the real Davion?
"Then you know this is your space. You alone have the authority to make people come and go." He was teasing her and it only pissed her off more. She pressed her legs tightly together and glared away from him.
"If that were true then you wouldn't be here in the first place. Where is Jareth?"
"Oh, I imagine he'll show up any moment now," he said, the sly tone of his voice drawing back her attention against her will. "It wasn't easy, you know," he added, making sure to lock his gaze with hers. "He's got you warded so tightly I almost gave up. I honestly have no idea why I was able to sneak through this round. Although, I suppose perseverance is key."
Sarah's scowl renewed but she said nothing, leaving Davion to reflect with amusement over the fact. It'd taken five attempts to break into her subconscious. Jareth's wards were expertly crafted, but he was bored and had nothing better to do than chip away at them. This last attempt however was different. It was like they were suddenly exhausted, the magic that fueled them nulled. He'd have to question his brother about that later. But for now…
"Ah, speak of the devil," he said and held up a finger. "Three...two...one…" And then he pointed to his right. Sarah's eyes followed and immediately landed on Jareth. He was also shirtless, supposedly naked like the rest of them. He held his arms crossed over his chest and glowered viciously at Davion. "Oh, am I good or what!"
"Get. Out."
Jareth's voice was like venom, sending a nervous shiver up Sarah's spine. He looked even more pissed off than she and he didn't even bother to acknowledge her.
Davion pursed his lips at his brother playfully and looked away.
"No, I think I'll stay. That is unless Sarah has made up her mind?" He looked back to her expectantly and Jareth's gaze followed. She bit her tongue when he glared at her. What the fuck was he expecting her to do? She'd already told him to leave!
"Of course I've made up my mind. Get the fuck out." She spoke sternly but nothing happened. Davion started laughing, crossing his arms in a relaxed manner.
"See brother? I think she wants us to stay."
Sarah's eyes widened, outraged by his gall. She did not become the Goddamn Goblin Queen to have to put up with yet another maniacal psychopath invading her mind.
"Jareth, can't you make him leave?" she asked. His glare had gone back to Davion but now it peered at her as a side-eye. His arms were still crossed, his fingers gripping his biceps tightly in aggravation.
"Of course he can't," Davion chimed. "This is your dream, remember? Now that I'm here, not even he can force me out. That power resides solely with you."
Sarah impulsively threw up her arms but immediately lowered them to catch the blanket before it fell. Why the fuck were they all naked?!
"So. Get. Out!" she yelled. There was a slight rumble in the space around them, though it was less than intimidating. Davion laughed again. He turned to Jareth, completely ignoring Sarah's display.
"I say, has she yet realized how vaginal her dreamscape is? Is it always like this?"
Jareth said nothing and Sarah gritted her teeth. Davion peered around the room with a naughty smile on his face which had an involuntary blush blooming across her own. She saw the curtains darken then, just slightly.
"Sarah, relax," he said to her and she glared over once again. "You do realize, even without my brother's wards, I would not have been able to come here had your subconscious not been even just a tiny bit welcoming?"
She said nothing to that, not wanting to admit he may be right. Jareth had told her something similar once before. Maybe that was why he was being so quiet. In the end she swallowed her nerves and called him out anyway.
"There's no way I want you here. And definitely not naked and tucked under pink satin sheets."
Davion made a rather insulting expression at her and rose his hands up to gesture at the space around them.
"And yet…" He was waiting for her to snap but she didn't. No, she held her ground well, though albeit behind total mortification.
"Then what are you doing here?" she asked, changing topics quickly. Again, Davion tilted his head, this way and that.
"I thought I would check in on you. I did promise to keep you thoroughly entertained."
"You're disgusting."
Davion shrugged.
"I could be, if you'd like. Why don't you come a little closer? You were squirming so nicely before you woke." He reached out for her ankle but she shimmied away just in time. It seemed like they were somehow all closer to one another now. Was it the work of her dream?
"Hard pass," Sarah said, glaring at his hand as it withdrew to rest in his lap. He smiled at her, entertained rather than offended by her rejection.
"Suit yourself…" he said, and slyly turned his head towards Jareth. They stared at one another for a moment, leaving Sarah to wonder what the hell Davion was thinking behind that ever-curling grin. "I am still bored though…" he mumbled, and reached out to flick a lock of Jareth's hair that had fallen over his shoulder. "Hmm…" Sarah eyed his movements intently as he then rose an arm to rest on said shoulder, and turned his attention back to her. "Would you rather watch instead?"
She was just staring at them, dubious. She didn't get it. Watch what? Her eyes fell down the length of Davion's arm as it draped casually over Jareth and...it clicked. Suddenly she felt her eyes widening and a damning, inconcealable blush flared across her face.
"Watch? W-watch what exactly?" she asked, hoping she was wrong, hoping he was just fucking with her. Her voice came out much higher than necessary and she gripped the blanket tighter. Davion laughed to himself, a soft, offensive gesture, and turned back to Jareth. He let his tongue trace along his lower lip and then reached out to run the back of a finger lightly down the length of Jareth's arm.
"...What do you think?"
Sarah's eyes widened even more, if it were at all possible, and she felt herself wracked with mortification. She fought back perverted imaginings as best she could, yet her heart continued to pound up into her throat as she watched Davion's hand. She shot her gaze back to Jareth -whose angered expression had only worsened.
Davion leaned in, supporting himself on an arm lost behind Jareth's back, and continued to touch him teasingly. Sarah watched that single fingertip move, brazenly, back up Jareth's arm and now over his clavicle. His face was hovering just over Jareth's chest and -and -and Jareth had yet to stop him.
"Excuse me-"
"Yes?"
As if expecting the interruption, Davion turned and threw her an eye, that damned smile of his only too confident. Sarah felt herself gulping down nerves, deeply unsettled by what she was seeing, more so by what she was imagining.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, trying to sound offended but there was a waiver to her voice. Davion tilted his head slightly and brought the arm once bearing his weight to grasp Jareth by the far shoulder. Sarah noticed, with terrible alarm, the way his free hand now settled to rest on the blanket covering Jareth's thigh.
"Nothing yet. Is there something you'd like us to do?"
"Are you kidding? Absolutely not!" Sarah nearly yelled. She was horrified, bemused, embarrassed beyond all reason. Was Davion really coming onto his brother right now? Claiming it was for her sake? Was-was he really asking for her blessing?!
"Why? Are you homophobic?"
Sarah found herself blinking rapidly and shaking her head. He was just staring, unfazed, as if her behavior was as casual as his own. She scowled and fought to steel her expression.
"What? No. But that's-that's beside the point! You're brothers!" she said, appalled. Honestly yes, the insinuation of Jareth being party to some male-on-male action had absolutely caught her off guard to put it mildly, but that didn't mean- And while he had implied he'd been with men before, the idea of actually watching him do so now was- wait. What the fuck? Why was she even contemplating this as a real possibility?!
"And?"
Sarah's chest puffed back up again.
"And-and-and that's wrong! That's disgusting!" She was stammering, unable to figure out why Jareth was still just sitting there, letting himself be pawed at. His arms were still crossed, his eyes deadly and his mouth a stern line. At least he didn't seem to be enjoying it...
"Hm...this must be an Aboveground notion," Davion said, and turned his look back to Jareth. He ran his hand up Jareth's waist, tickling his side, and then his tongue grazed pointedly along his peck.
"Stop touching him!" Sarah shouted, concerned more than anything over why Jareth hadn't yet thrown him across the room. Davion paused and his eyes peered about.
"I will...when you mean it."
Again, outrage found itself blooming in Sarah's chest and she sat up on her knees. The curtains had darkened again, now they were a deep raspberry-red.
"Jareth? Are you seriously okay with this?" she asked, pleading in a sense. She was confused. Confused with all of this, including her own dirty reaction. She wasn't angry that Davion was touching him. She should have been. She should have been royally pissed off. And yet…
Her thighs were kept squeezed tightly together.
"Why would he not be?" Davion answered, which had Sarah's brow drawing. She looked between the two, watched the way Jareth's glare roamed over his brother as he continued to endure him. While he was most definitely irritated, Sarah had come to recognize his posture as something else. There was an ease about him, as if his brother's touch was not something unknown to him and was even less repulsed by. The tension in his arms had even started to relax. Sarah wondered gravely then if he was holding back any response merely on her account, and then the thought emerged: had he done this before?
"Jareth…?"
His continued silence unnerved her.
"He won't stop me, if that's what you're asking." Again, it was Davion who spoke. He leaned into Jareth, who braced in the effort to support him, going so far as to uncross his arms and press his hands to his thighs, as Davion gestured a hand out towards her. "This is your dream, remember? Dreamcasting...is a very delicate art. One cannot simply do as they please in another person's subconscious. I can only do what I am allowed to do," he explained, turning those dastardly eyes back to Jareh's torso. He extended his fingers and walked them precariously along Jareth's chest. "The limits can only be pushed so far...lest it devolve to a nightmare. And that is not something any of us want."
"There's no way I'm okay with this."
"Are you worried it will be considered an infidelity?" he asked. Sarah blanched. He cast her a knowing grin. "Come now, even I know such practices exist amongst your people. What is it called? Swinging? Something happily married couples engage in...together." His eyes became lost on his ministrations of Jareth and he licked his lips, pausing before continuing. "Besides...this is a dream. Once you wake, we will all be untouched...no harm...no foul…" He leaned back and planted a tantalizing kiss on Jareth's shoulder. She saw Jareth flinch, but with what reaction she couldn't discern.
"Jareth, are you seriously consenting to this?" Sarah asked. Was she angry yet? She wasn't sure. If anything, she was bothered by how quiet he'd been, why he would let himself be molested, and in front of her at that? Was this an infidelity? She didn't feel betrayed. "H-have you done this? Been with him before?" She'd meant her tone to be accusatory, but there was a curiosity lining her words that betrayed her apparent disgust. Perhaps it would not have been so noticeable had they not been within her own mind. Davion grinned and curled both his arms around his brother. Jareth rocked with him a bit, snarled, and rolled his shoulder in apparent annoyance. This was, however, the only effort of protest he made, and Davion clung to him with glee.
"Jareth and I have had many different kinds of fun over the years...in the heat of the moment, one tends to forget whose limbs belong to who, whose mouths are on what, whose appendages are penetrating whose orif-"
"Okay enough!" Sarah stopped him, holding a feverish hand out between them for emphasis. This time, Davion listened and released Jareth completely as he leaned up. She wondered for a moment if her command had actually worked.
"You say that meaning to sound outraged but…" and then he paused, peering around conspicuously as if listening for something. When he spoke again, it was with a smile. "...all I'm sensing is embarrassment...and intrigue."
"What? Are you reading my damn thoughts?" Sarah snapped. She hated this, this stupid mind-fuckery. Jareth had pulled the same shit, telling her what her own thoughts and desires were as if she didn't already know. This time however she was less quick to rebut him. And maybe that was because-
"Sarah, we're in your subconscious. I'm reading the walls," Davion said, gesturing around the room. Again Sarah blanched. She said nothing, for she knew he was right. Did she want this? Was she into it? "And by the way, he can read them too." She glanced at Jareth and paled, pitifully. Was that why he was putting up with all this? Because of whatever signals he was gleaming from her subconscious? Her heart was beating furiously and she wanted desperately to wake up, and yet her eyes remained fixed, remained wide and eager for whatever move Davion made next. "If you can honestly tell me the thought has never crossed your mind, if that thought was not at all tempting, then I will leave this very instant."
Sarah stared wordlessly, deeply agitated by the tremble coursing between her thighs. Had the thought crossed her mind? Of course it had. She remembered an instance when the idea of the two of them together, even the addition of Roldan, had poised itself unabashedly in her mind's eye. However, then it was satire. It was something to laugh at. Surely an intrusive thought alone could not be so dangerous?
Was that what was allowing Davion to be here? Was that what was allowing him to do these things? That one time when she'd made one joke by thinking of one fantasy and…
And as she stared at them now, saw them bared, in all but flesh, and seemingly willing, she realized this was no longer a thought, that it had become something much worse and more dire than a passing temptation.
"Sarah."
Sarah's impassioned look turned to Jareth. That was the first time he'd spoken to her. She stared at him worriedly, worried because the look he was giving her was no longer irritated. It was expectant, maybe even impatient.
"Is this what you want?" he asked, keeping his eyes locked with hers. She opened her mouth but no words came. Didn't he already know? She was beside herself. Her eyes caught Davion as he began to move again, to run his hands now firmly along Jareth's body. Jareth made no move to stop him, didn't so much as tense in apprehension. He only stared at her, awaiting her response. It was as if Davion wasn't even there.
"I-I-"
"Don't struggle too hard, love," Davion said, brushing away more of Jareth's hair as he began to nip lightly at his neck. "I told you, you're more than welcome to watch. I know my brother is eager to please you, no matter what those labors might involve." And he kissed his brother on the neck. Jareth arched his neck reflexively, seeming to pull away a little from the contact, yet she knew his expression and it was not without a small trace of enjoyment. Sarah felt a hot pang move through her and immediately smothered it into submission. Again, without pause, Davion placed another wet, open-mouthed, terribly exhibitionistic kiss upon a different spot, suckling sharply to elicit a faint warning growl from Jareth. "Perhaps you'll feel more inclined to join after seeing just how hard your husband wishes to please you."
Sarah sat in a puddle of contended and confused arousal as she watched the scene unraveling before her. Jareth was still scowling, his eyes averted with distaste, and yet his expression did not match his manner. Davion touched him possessively, intently, knowing with each precise movement how he would lead Sarah's gaze and provoke her further. He bit him harder, dragged his teeth and his tongue more sharply. She watched Jareth's chest rise a little higher on a breath but she could only wonder if it was with the desire for him to cease or continue.
She never expected this. Never ever thought this was something that could actually happen. That's when she realized, it wasn't actually happening. This was her dream. Was Jareth restraining himself? Or was he plainly unable to push his brother away, left at the mercy of her subconsciousness's curiosity? Was...was Jareth actually being molested right now? Because it was her dream?
"How do I know it's even the real you? Are you even Davion and Jareth? Or is this actually a dream?" she found herself asking. The idea that Jareth's authority in her dreamscape had been curbed by her own desires was troubling, mainly because she had not the faintest idea of how to control it. How was Davion manipulating her? Was he truly only doing what her psyche permitted him to do? And likewise was Jareth barred from acting against it? Did she want Davion to touch him? Did she really want to see this through fruition? Fruition? What the fuck did that even mean?!
She found herself panicking again as she imagined just how far this could end up going.
"Oh. You can't tell?" Davion asked, calling back her attention. He saw the worry lain on her face, saw how lost and innocent she looked, saw how none of it compared to the flame of lust steadily churning in her eyes. "Haha, well isn't this just delightful."
"Sarah." And Sarah's head snapped back to Jareth immediately. "Answer me. Is this something you want?" he asked again. Davion leaned up, apparently trying to kiss his way to Jareth's mouth, and Sarah found herself immensely relieved when this time Jareth reached out, grabbed his brother by the face, and pushed him away. Davion chuckled, his rhythm unshaken as he went back to nipping at his torso. Sarah's brow furrowed then. So...did he have control of his own body, or not?
"...Is it something you want?" she countered. Jareth was quiet. Apparently they were at a stalemate. Neither would admit this was something they may have wanted, when she knew, somehow she knew, this was exactly what they all wanted. She watched Davion suck on his neck, watched Jareth arch for it while keeping his eyes locked on hers. It was erotic, a deeply carnal and somehow intimate moment for her. She wanted to move closer to him. She wanted to reach out and...
Neither one of them answered the question, but the room around them turned to a dark, blood-colored red.
"I think…" Davion started, smiling wickedly as he trailed his teeth down Jareth's chest and boldly flicked his tongue over his left nipple. "...the thought of seeing just how far we're willing to go with one another colors you intrigued. Would you agree? ...Sarah?" He laughed at her lack of response but the moodiness of their surroundings spoke for her. "Even without words, I think we know her answer at least, don't we brother?"
If Sarah had the chance to respond she missed it miserably, and was only left to gape as she watched, totally helpless, as Davion reached down beneath the blanket and tightened his hand in a shameless fist around Jareth's shaft.
Sarah gasped audibly and her hands flew up to cover her face.
Did that really just happen? Was this really happening right now? Was she-was Davion really jerking him off right now?
Jareth groaned on reflex from the surprise but quickly shook his head and grabbed Davion's wrist tightly, stopping him from making any further movements.
"I need you to say it," Jareth said to her, opening his eyes as if the contact were painful, and stared at her beseechingly. Sarah was struck dumb. Truly. The way he was looking at her, the way he was restraining himself, the way her mouth was watering because of it... "I don't want you to regret..." he continued, and she recognized a new ambivalence in his voice. Her wide, shocked eyes beamed at him hopelessly. She couldn't speak. She was too embarrassed. She was too...turned on.
Davion smiled at her reaction and began to slowly kiss his way down Jareth's torso. His brother's grip on his arm was like a vice, and yet he had just enough leverage to pump him in a provocative little motion that was sure to have Sarah's blush spreading even lower. As intended, her eyes followed him, caught on the undulation beneath the blanket, and she found her tongue running along her lower lip subconsciously. This was wrong. This was wrong on so many levels, and she was shocked and horrified by how visceral her own reaction was. Was it because it was a dream that it was easier to simply let it happen? Had her subconscious barred her shame for a later time? Maybe she was still high. Maybe her inhibitions were still in a lowered state.
In the end, she knew she had nothing to blame, knew that there was no reason to cast blame at all. She was becoming disturbingly aroused by this, by something she'd honestly never before dared to actually fantasize about. Was this her true nature? Could she really be party to something like this? She'd just told him she no longer wanted to be innocent. Well...nothing like jumping into the deep end head first.
"Aw, look at that. You're both so undeniably aroused and yet neither of you will admit it for fear of offending one another," Davion said, his annunciation of the word undeniably causing Sarah to realize Jareth was in fact erect beneath the blanket, and was seeming to only become more so the more Davion worked him. Another pang wracked through her and she found herself biting her lips unwittingly. "Sarah…" Davion said, in the most lascivious of tones, and immediately she found her voice.
"Yes."
It was quick. It was quiet. It was all Davion needed. He smiled sinfully, triumphantly, as he felt Jareth's grip on his arm loosen. "Perhaps I'll take initiative for the both of you…" he said, successfully pulling Sarah's gaze from his brother back to himself. "...Watch closely." He held her gaze, let the truth of her decision sink in and disarm her fully, before lowering his head, pulling back the blanket, and taking Jareth deep into his mouth.
Sarah gasped again, her voice becoming a high-pitch squeak as she watched, unblinking, unmoving, as Davion sucked Jareth to the back of his throat and then withdrew slowly, letting his tongue curl around his hardened shaft and making sure her eyes caught every glint of saliva left in his wake. Sarah swallowed her tongue, she failed to breathe, to do anything at all but cross her legs beneath her and revel in sheer, disgustingly-amazed, enthrallment. She saw how hard he was, how he pulsed with each movement. Davion's hand rose to grip the base of his cock and his eyes peered at her to confirm she did in fact approve.
She tore her eyes away in embarrassment and brought them to Jareth. His head was cast back and he was gritting his teeth, still trying to abstain himself from enjoying it. Feeling her gaze searching for his however, he opened his eyes and looked back at her. Their eyes locked and this time neither withdrew. He started breathing a little heavier and the room turned darker still. She acknowledged now that the state of her arousal was no secret to them and fought the growing desire to move closer. She heard soft noises of panting, and sucking, and lapping from Davion but she couldn't look at him. It wasn't about him. It was about she and Jareth, about how deeply libidinous the tether between their locked eyes became.
He reached down and fisted a hand into Davion's hair, roughly directing him up and down on his erection. Sarah felt the heat in her chest rising. His eyes were still locked with hers. He was doing this for her.
"Come here," he said, and offered her his free hand. Sarah hesitated, but ultimately reached out and placed her palm against his. His fingers curled and then pulled her in close. She stumbled and held herself awkwardly, not wanting to touch Davion as he crouched between them. She was so fucking turned on she could barely stand it and yet it was near impossible to convince herself to move. Her face was now close to Jareth's and she could feel the heat of his breath as he panted heavier. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and he reached behind to hold her at the nape, and kissed her. She closed her eyes and it was like her body sprang to life. She kissed him back, hungrily, and he allowed himself to moan for her. She too panted, utterly ignoring the hand Davion had placed on her thigh for balance. "Do you like this?" Jareth whispered. His eyes had opened just barely and watched her with such longing. Sarah nodded, her lips parted, her eyes ablaze. The way he was staring at her had her growing wet and uncomfortable. She'd nearly forgotten about Davion completely when he asked, "Do you want me to cum in him?" And then her nostrils flared. She was embarrassed, so ungodly embarrassed, and yet still she nodded. Who was she? Who was this perverted sexual goddess possessing her brain? Was it Davion's manipulation? Was it her all along?
Jareth closed his eyes and kissed her again. In an instant all trace of worry left her and she melted, her hold on the blanket covering herself nearly falling limp as Jareth took one of her hands and pulled it down. He pressed her hand into Davion's hair and enclosed his firmly overtop hers. She drew in a sharp breath and nearly pulled away, but the feeling of his movement between them inadvertently stimulated her more. Jareth's grip tightened and he began to push him down rhythmically, making his brother gag as he thrusted his hips too deep. Sarah's breathing was nearly as labored as Jareth's, and she was unprepared when he suddenly twitched, a tense shudder constricting his grip around her hand and holding Davion in place as he came down his throat. She heard the sounds of Davion swallowing, of him gasping, and felt him now struggling for air, but still they held him; firmly in control until Jareth was well-spent. Sarah pulled back slightly, afraid of how strongly witnessing that moment had affected her.
Jareth's grip loosened and Davion pulled away. He breathed heavily and wiped at his mouth, still crouching between them.
"So rough…" he mumbled, though still highly amused. Jareth ignored him, and reached back for Sarah. He took hold of the sides of her face and kissed her roughly. She made breathy noises and eased back. She was sitting up on her knees and arched as one of his hands reached around to grasp at the bare skin of her back.
"Do you want him to touch you?" he asked, and her eyes darted nervously. She didn't know…She wasn't ready...Could she really…?
"I...I don't want you to think-"
"Do you want him to touch you?" Jareth asked again, an air of impatience and post-orgasmic fatigue making his voice sound hoarse.
Sarah held his gaze, swallowed hard, and nodded.
Jareth reached down and pulled the blanket from her, and she was surprised by how easily she released it.
Davion smiled. He was still laying in his brother's lap and was looking up as Sarah's body revealed itself. He reached out and caressed her thigh, his hand moving upward ever-so-carefully. He felt her tense but Jareth's aggressive kisses soon distracted her. He started to sit up, slyly moving behind her as his hands gently massaged around her hips. She was becoming more and more aware of him, and both could sense her nerves were sparking back to life. That was when Jareth reached down and pinched her nipples. She moaned sharply but did not pull away as his hands kneaded and groped. Davion was kneeling behind her now, admiring the shape of her waist and ass as she arched herself toward Jareth. He ran a hand down the length of her and then reached below. And then she felt a finger press into her.
Sarah gasped again but was more conscious in her recoil. She was still embarrassed and she worried over what Jareth might think of her. His eyes however, were laden and he turned her face back to him reassuringly. He continued to kiss her, to ease her tension, and brought one of her hands low to pump at his renewed erection. She felt Davion's mouth on her back, leaving hot kisses that made her shiver, along with hisfingers (now multiple) as they moved in and out of her a little deeper with each thrust.
"Jareth…" she breathed, still so uncertain. He pulled her astride him and Davion's ministrations ceased. She felt someone's hands gripping her hips, their fingers pressing tightly as they pushed her down onto Jareth's cock. She gasped, and moaned, and closed her eyes. Jareth began to move, to fill her, and stretch her, and fucked her beautifully.
Sarah rose higher on her knees, simply letting herself be molded to whatever pace Jareth set. She was lost in him, lost in how close they felt. Her eyes were glazed and her cheeks were flushed and she'd, for that singular moment, forgotten they were not alone.
She was all too aware of the feeling of Davion's finger molesting her anus and felt a stronger wave of shame hit her when that finger pushed into her.
She winced uncomfortably and tensed, though said nothing to stave him. She felt him penetrating her with unsettling ease and was even more caught off guard by how good it felt. Jareth was still thrusting into her, though had slowed and now cupped her face to bring her attention to him.
"Calm down," he assured, and she looked at him worriedly. She'd never done this before. Not even with Jareth. Was she really ready? "It's different here," he continued, and she took a moment to find her composure. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her hands curled back to toy with his hair. "There won't be the same sense of...resistance...If you want to go further. If this is what you want." She let the calm of his tone sooth her and glanced back over her shoulder. Davion was there, and his eyes lowered as he kissed her shoulder tenderly. His free hand grasped her shoulder while the other continued to stretch her, and she couldn't stop herself from remarking on how similar they looked.
The recognition aroused her. It aroused her greatly.
"Jareth, I-" She panicked and tore her eyes away. Davion was Davion and he was not to be trusted. Was it really okay for them to be doing this? Was she really okay with him-
Again Jareth grasped her by the jaw and held her close until her eyes were forced to look upon him. His gaze was clear, earnest, and patient.
"You're with me, remember?" he said, and she sighed. He angled her head, held her under the shoulder as he made her more aware of his presence inside her, and brushed his lips just barely against hers as he said, "Only me."
"How sweet." The sound of Davion's voice drew her attention, along with the way he nipped at her shoulder and greedily grasped the round of her ass. It was then that she realized both his hands were free. That they both were now moving, along with Jareth's, to her hips. Four hands held her in place, and it dawned on her that the feeling pressing into her rear was Davion on the verge of fucking her.
He pushed into her, gently. She braced but then relaxed with a laboured breath. He watched her carefully, watched as Jareth kissed along her neck and pulled her from her worry. He pushed into her again, harder this time, and Jareth released his hold on her hips. Davion gripped her tighter, angled her as he timed Jareth's thrust and finally pushed deep inside her. Sarah moaned, yelled, screamed actually, as two sets of hands began to paw at her, grope and massage her, gentling her as her body loosened for them. She began to relax, to give herself to the moment, and moaned wantonly. With her encouragement, they both began to move, to fuck her deeply and thoroughly, filling her body in a way she was unable to fathom. Jareth was right. There was no pain. There was no pain because it wasn't real. It was pure sensation. As much sensation as she wanted to feel.
She heard Davion panting at the corner of her ear, feeling the moisture of his breath against the back of her neck as he too moaned. He sucked on her, just as Jareth sucked her neck on the opposite side, and she found herself wedged like a plank between them and entirely at their mercy. She braced herself against Jareth's shoulders and tilted her head towards the ceiling. The curtains were nearly black, sodden, and made heavy with her own arousal. She felt Jareth's teeth bite down on the flesh of her breast and his hand pulled her up to him. She felt Davion's grip on her hips rock her to both brothers' benefit. She moaned louder and louder, and gripped her nails into the flesh of Jareth's shoulder until they drew blood and-
Sarah awoke with a jolt.
She sprang forward so fast she thought she might fall off the bed. She gasped, and heaved, and exhaled raggedly. Her jaw gritted tightly and a sweaty hand pushed back the hair from her face as she stared all around the room in horror.
She was in her room again, the one in Davion's castle. It was quiet, and she peered down to find Jareth tucked in quietly next to her.
She took a moment to compose herself and took a very, very deep breath. When she exhaled, some of the tension left her but none of the panic. She scooched away but immediately deduced Jareth was still asleep. Still quaint, and vulnerable, and possibly totally unaware of what had just happened to her. She reached out to him but stopped herself, choosing instead to feel all over her own body. There was nothing. No sign of Davion anywhere.
A nervous hand rose to the column of her throat. What in the bloody-fucking-hell was that? Was that real? Real as in, Real Jareth and Real Davion? Or was that literally a dream? Her gaze burned through Jareth as she debated whether or not to wake him, to accuse him, to beg him to reassure her it was okay. She was mortified. Totally. Beyond compare. The way she'd let that snake of a man touch her...touch him? No. No, there was no way that was real. Jareth would never -would he? Fuck.
She stood from the bed and went to the bathroom, needing to splash a whole lot of cold water on her face. She couldn't believe it. It all felt so real. It really did feel real. Her face turned the color of a cherry and she shook her head at the sorry image the vanity mirror provided her. What should she do? Play it off like no big deal? Own it like a Queen? What if-what if it wasn't the real Jareth?
For some reason that question stuck with her. She was fairly certain Davion had indeed snuck into her mind, but that was the trick wasn't it? Davion was the one manipulating her. Something had seemed off about Jareth in the beginning. What if...what if Jareth wasn't even there at all? Something grave and sickening fell over her as she tried to imagine what Jareth's reaction would be should he learn what she had done with his brother. She started shaking her head again. This was fucked. Jareth would undoubtedly be furious and she'd be damned if he punished her again. But would she not deserve it? Even just a tiny bit? Davion had said he wouldn't have been able to even enter if the temptation hadn't once crossed her mind. Jesus fuck.
Quickly, she stormed out of the bathroom and donned a robe, cinching the belt tightly around her as she spied on Jareth. He was still asleep, soundly too it seemed. Maybe she could take care of this without him ever needing to know…
The idea of keeping such a secret from him had her stomach churning in violent knots.
She opened the door and was surprised to find a set of guards standing on either side of the frame.
"Oh, um...Do you happen to know where Davion is?" she asked, in a hushed voice. She had no idea what time it even was, but still. If she was awake, she was pretty sure he would be too. The guards turned and bowed, and she found herself hurrying to close the door behind her lest they wake Jareth.
"He's enjoying breakfast in the dining hall, Your Majesty," one of them said. Sarah gritted her teeth. Of course he was.
"Would you like one of us to take you to him?" asked the other. Sarah tensed her jaw and took another deep breath. She was so pissed-off it was hard to contain. She could only imagine how smug he must look right now.
"Yes, please. I'm afraid I don't yet know my way around," she said, in as pleasant a tone as possible. They both nodded, though only one stood away from the wall to escort her.
It was an awkward minute and a half walk to the dining hall. Sarah was positively fuming and if the guard had the inclination to look back at her, he would probably see smoke shooting from her ears. She was jittering. Literally. Anxious nerves were coursing through her at an ungodly rate. What was she even planning on saying to him? What if he denied it? What if it really was a dream?
The guard led her to a door and stopped before it as another guard bowed, and then opened it for her. She entered ahead of him, storming directly towards the head of the table as a voice announced, "Her Majesty, The Queen."
Davion was sitting at the end of the table with an indiscernible platter of food set before him. He was as candid as ever, and looked up to her with a cheerful smile.
"Ah, good morning Sarah. I didn'tpeg you as an early riser."
Sarah felt her fists tightening at her sides. The way he was staring at her was so Goddamn pleasant; it made her want to smack the expression clear off his face.
She leaned in close so she wouldn't have to yell.
"Good morning, my ass. I know what you did Davion," she snarled. She was gripping the edge of the table and pointed a nasty finger at him. Bemusement was a look that was far too practiced and sat far too naturally on his face. He set down his fork and looked up at her.
"I have no idea what you mean," he said, with a light upturn that conveyed he did not give any fucks in concealing the matter beyond that. Sarah found herself fuming all over again.
"Don't bullshit me. You were in my head last night. You're a Goddamn pervert. You had no fucking right-"
"Ah, so much vulgarity. And before noon at that! I thought Jareth was working to curb that demeanor of yours?"
His provocations made it hard for her to remain composed and she figured unraveling her was his intention. She closed her eyes briefly and shook the rage away.
"Do you have any idea how serious this is? How wrong that was?" she asked. Davion tilted his head but held her gaze. He was feeling absolutely none of the urgency Sarah was.
"Wrong? What exactly was wrong about it? I recall you enjoying yourself thoroughly, literally, which is in fact what I promised you the moment you arrived."
Sarah didn't respond right away. She was too abashed. The arrogance of this man! It rivaled his brother's and was even more infuriating.
"So you don't deny it? You were in my head?" And now Davion's brow rose.
"Wait, you mean you came barrelling in here, half-cocked, tossing around accusations, and yet unsure whether it was actually me or your own perverse imaginings? My, what trouble you must cause my brother," he said, glancing away dismissively as he took a sip from his glass. Sarah growled, reached out, and took his cup away forcefully. She set it down, out of his reach, with a thud. He looked at it, then at her, and sighed. Apparently he would be giving her his full attention.
"Don't deflect. What the hell is wrong with you? Did you really think you were going to get away with-with-"
"With what, Sarah?" And she found herself interrupted from her stammering. He was staring at her, looking straight through her actually. He was bored and it only angered her more. He shifted his position and leaned forward on an arm, closing the gap between them further. "As I said last night, everything that happened was something that you allowed to happen. And you enjoyed it. Immeasurably. I did not get away with anything. You encouraged it."
She bit her tongue and said nothing. He was right, but that didn't change the fact that this was severely messed up. Goddamn it, why did he have to look so much like Jareth all of the sudden?
"You had no right. I'm married to your brother."
"Yes? And?" She blinked and tensed her fists anew. "Oh, don't tell me you were planning on remaining monogamous?" he asked, as if he pitied her. He laughed and looked away again, the sound light, and airy, and genuinely amused.
In a moment of impulse, Sarah reached out and slapped him starkly across the face.
The smile waned from Davion's face and he raised a hand to sooth away the sting. He wasn't expecting that. He only hoped the guards hadn't heard.
"Now that...sweet sister...was entirely unnecessary." His tone was lower, a twinge more serious, and she was glad she'd finally been able to break through his bravado. Yes, he was reminding her more and more of Jareth, and she would deal with him in the exact same way -not that she'd ever had the courage to actually slap him.
"Hardly," she said, her own voice hardened. She leaned up a little, feeling her outrage settle into something more manageable, and watched him as he turned in his seat to face her.
"May I ask then, if my behavior was so egregious, why is it you who has come to put me in my place and not my brother?" His question was lined with something suspicious, a sense of knowing that had her worrying all over again.
"I think you know why," she said, urging him to make the admission himself. He had her at a disadvantage suddenly, for both knew she had no idea whether or not they had each fucked Dream or Real Jareth.
Davion smiled again, his cheek now reddening noticeably.
"You're afraid to confront him. You have no idea if that was him or a figment of your own musings. And so you've come to me instead, to handle the matter discreetly. Ah-haha. This is truly astounding. No, I think I shall keep that bit of knowledge to myself and leave you teetering. Will you ask him? Or perhaps...might we spoil the child and agree to render this little indiscretion of ours...quiet?" He spoke haughtily but Sarah was impervious. The absolute rage she felt towards him in that moment was unparallelled. Was he seriously trying to blackmail her right now? He just all but confirmed that was not the real Jareth. If it were, her silence would not matter at all. How could she be so stupid?!
"Are you kidding me right now? He trusts you!" she said, in disbelief.
"No, I am far from kidding, sweet girl. Imagine for a moment, as I know you have been, that Jareth was not privy to our little romp. Do you think I will be the only one on the receiving end of his whip? I may be his brother, but you are his wife. His most treasured possession. How do you think he'd feel to learn just what a disgusting, traitorous little thing you are?"
She felt her confidence waiver just then, his goading working through a crack in her armor. She bit the inside of her lip and fought to remain stern. She was terrified, more than anything really, of receiving another of Jareth's punishments. They'd come too far for that -at least, she hoped. And yet the fear Davion's warning had provoked in her was very much real. Could she risk confronting Jareth? Could she handle those consequences?
Yes. She would handle anything so long as Jareth wiped the floor with the smug look still lain on his brother's face.
"You've got some nerve, I'll give you that. But you give yourself away trying to blackmail me like that. You don't want me to tell him because you're afraid too," she said, not backing down in the slightest. She leaned in again and held his gaze intently. "You're lucky I don't tell Jareth right now-"
"Tell me what, exactly?"
Sarah's posturing fell dead in an instant as she whipped around to Jareth. He was standing directly behind her. She paled, her mouth gaped utterly, and she stammered for composure. He was dressed, conscious but not altogether awake yet, and his expression made it immediately clear that he really did not have any idea what was going on between them. She panicked and found herself stepping to the side as he moved closer to his brother.
"It seems Sarah has had a bit of a nightmare, though I don't know why she would rather come to me and not you for such things," Davion said, reclining his arms behind his head and glancing away with nonchalance. Sarah gaped again, unable to tear herself from the immense shock and anger she was feeling. Jareth had turned to her, furrowed his brow, and was inspecting her closely. She didn't like the look in his eye - preemptive aggression that scrutinized her in a manner she was not prepared for.
"Sarah?"
"Don't listen to his bullshit-" she suddenly said, and glared over at Davion. Jareth's expression hardened and he too glared over to his brother. "He was in my head last night. He- he-"
When Jareth had woken that morning he was surprised to find his bed absent one Sarah. She was nowhere to be seen, and he realized quickly that she was in fact no longer in the room at all. He'd gotten up, and dressed, and entered the hall. The guards had informed him she'd asked to see his brother and already he was growing irritated. He had no idea why she would want to see him, why she would go out of her way and sneak away from his side to do so. He had not suspected much at the time, however. Perhaps sleep was still too heavy on his consciousness. When he'd entered the dining hall he'd spotted her and felt an instinctive flare of relief, though that relief soon turned into something else as he approached them; as he caught a glimpse of the deep scowl and look he'd come to recognize as disdain radiating from her unto him. And his brother...his Goddamned brother was loving it.
He surmised immediately what had happened. Sarah was panicking and on the verge of a rage. Irritated, and feeling the early thrum of a headache, he reached out and silenced her by grabbing her fiercely by the forehead. She shut her mouth and raised her hands to try and tear his hand away, but his grip remained firm. He held her there, in commanding silence, as he divulged what exactly was causing all the fuss.
After a moment, he lowered Sarah from her toes. She'd gone pitifully quiet and, as he withdrew his hand, gazed up at him with an unwarranted level of worry that had him staving off a deep growl in the back of his throat. He turned his attention away from her and locked that piercing stare on Davion.
Sarah waited for the shoe to drop. Jesus Christ, this was not how it was supposed to go -as if she'd had any kind of plan in the first place. Jareth was no longer looking at her and she could only think it was because he was disgusted with her. He looked angry. Incredibly. And stared unblinking at his brother, who had the gall to -not whither- but actually flourish beneath it. He reclined further in his chair and took a deep breath. No. He was not afraid of his brother. At least not yet.
"Jareth?" Sarah said, timidly.
"Leave." The command in Jareth's voice was unquestionable, though she managed to defy it. She felt her shoulders haunching, terrified he was about to start screaming at her. Instead, he turned that icy glare straight at her and spoke just as coldly. "Go back to the room and do not leave it. Now."
Sarah bit her lip, shot one last glance at Davion, who was now ignoring her completely, and left.
Jareth glowered, unblinking, as he waited for the sound of the door shutting behind Sarah. His brother was looking away from him, feigning disregard as anticipation finally caught up with him. After a moment, the door slamming shut bellowed behind them, and Jareth took a step forward. He cast out a hand, sealing all exits with his magic and barring any sound from being heard by those outside.
"Stand up."
Davion hesitated, looked over to his brother, and straightened himself in his seat.
"Really now, do you think all of that is necessary?" he asked. His voice was still light, still irritatingly cavalier. Jareth felt a tick in his jaw and reached out to grab him by the scruff of the neck. He wound his braided hair into a knot around his fit, and hoisted his brother up and to his feet. Davion winced and instinctively brought his hands to Jareth's as he staggered upright. "Aye! Aye! So impatient you are this morning!" he said, smiling as if the pain in his scalp brought him joy. Jareth snarled his lip and tossed him aside, paced a few feet away from him, and then turned back sharply.
"Take off your shirt," he ordered, with that same rigid tone. Davion glanced back and grinned, running a hand through his scalp as he smoothed away the hurt. His brother was looking royally pissed-off. Much to his imminent detriment, it invigorated him.
"Perhaps we should invite Sarah back first-"
"Now."
Jareth interrupted him, clearly in no mood to entertain his jests. Davion's confidence faltered for just a moment, and he huffed.
"Fine. Fine. Let's get on with it then, shall we?" he asked, rhetorically, and turned away to untuck the hem of his shirt. He pulled it over his head and cast it aside, then leaned forward and gripped the edge of the table with both hands. "Shall I assume the position as well?"
*CRACK!*
Davion gasped as the lick of a whip cut searingly into his flesh. It was the surprise that got him more than anything, and he turned back with a staggered breath to peer at his brother.
"Very impatient indeed," he mumbled, challengingly, and turned back to stare down at the table. "Well? Get on with it!" He heard the sound of the whip cutting the air, once, twice, but the feeling was delayed, the pain slow and scorching as hot threads of blood streamed down his sides. He smiled wickedly as his chest rose and fell harder. A whip did very little for him anymore, Jareth should know that. He was holding back. There was a pause, so Davion seized the moment. "I say, you're not holding back, are you?" CRACK! "Ah-come now brother, surely you can do better than that? I barely felt that one at all!"
Jareth struck again, harder this time, successfully goaded by his brother. He found his teeth gritting as he watched the lashes split his skin and bubble and bleed. This was only making him more angry.
"It's been a while since you've given me a good lashing. Do you remember? I do-"
"Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth."
The whip came down again, landing across several open wounds, and sent a spray of blood up into the air. Davion gasped again, finally feeling a slight sting, and gripped the table's edge a little harder.
"You know, I don't see what's gotten you so riled. I distinctly remember a time when you couldn't have cared less about who your wife slept with. I find it unsettling that you worry so pitifully over this one-" and then he yelped, blood cascading from the side of his face. Jareth had turned, angled his arm, and caught the tail of the whip around his cheek, nearly slicing it clear through. Davion's breathing turned a little ragged, and he spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor beside him. "Are you perhaps upset I was the one to claim her in the ass? Oh, don't think I didn't pick up on that delicious little detail."
"You really are incessant," Jareth said, just as the whip cut into him again.
"Exactly, dear brother, my behavior is as consistent as ever. You're the one who's become so ungodly boring over the last two months. Since when were you one to bat an eye at a little dreamweaving?"
"Davion...Do you hear yourself? Why must you constantly undermine me? Why when you, only you, know what's at stake? Do you truly just not care? Do you truly hate me that much?" Jareth was angry, livid, yet there was exasperation in his voice. His hand was heavy but it was not without mercy and Davion sensed this. He was provoking him, inciting him, daring him to tear the flesh from his skin-
"Hate you?" Davion asked, with the gall to sound offended. "I could never hate you brother. I admire you above all else, you know that." And the whip came again. This time however, the aftermath was silence. Davion's chest heaved as he waited for another blow, one that he was quick to realize would not come. He glanced back to spy his brother glaring at him with menace, just barely restraining himself as his hand gripped the handle of a long, knotted, bull-whip. "It is because I love you that I must show you the error of your ways. What would befall you, I wonder, should anyone else discover just how easy it is to ruin you?"
The sound of Jareth's fist tightening around the handle of the whip resonated between them. But as the silence stretched, Davion resigned to turn back around and face the table.
"I counted nine. Barely a scratch eh? Shall we make it an even ten? I would have thought you'd be much more generous. Perhaps I've overestimated her value. Just how many lashes is the blushing of your bride worth?"
Davion called out in pain as the next assault flayed open his flesh and curled around the side of his ribs. For a moment the area went numb as a nerve was severed from the surrounding muscle. This was no reprieve however, as another, equally merciless strike soon followed, again, and again, each one cutting deeper into his back. Davion steeled himself. This was more like the Jareth he knew. The one who did not care to hold back.
The sound of Davion's cries did little to assuage the deep disdain rooted in Jareth. He couldn't believe his brother would stoop so low and do something so tactless, and asinine, and completely audacious as this. He should have known better. He should have known not to bring her here. This was his fault really. Sarah had been essentially defiled by another man and it was entirely his fault.
As the blows fell, Jareth found himself absentminded. What once brought him such gratification now felt like a pointless exercise, the thirst for retribution remaining unquenched as he only grew in frustration. As he watched his brother quake and tremble at the mercy of his reprisal, he thought he'd take more pleasure out of simply punching a wall. It would certainly be more responsive. Davion knew what his punishment would be. He knew and he didn't care. He begged for it. He always did. Why was he like this? Why was he so insufferable? Why was he so much, as Sarah had pointedly dawned on him, like himself?
Sarah was right. He'd been too lenient with his brother. He allowed himself to be pushed and thus allowed Sarah to suffer for it. He should flay the flesh from his very bones with hot and gritty knives for daring to show such insolence, to assault the fucking Queen of his country behind he, his own brother's, back.
And yet, as the whip cracked, its vehemence held less conviction. His arm became listless. And, eventually, his hand fell dead to his side.
Davion braced as the lashes ceased and the sound of his brother's boots clicking on the stone floor drew closer to him. He peered to the side, still crouched over the table, and watched Jareth pull back a chair, roughly, and throw himself into it. He'd dropped the whip and scowled as he ran his hands through his hair.
"Sit down," he ordered, and Davion complied. When Jareth opened his eyes, they were blazing. "Do you have any idea how dangerous a situation we're in?" he asked. Davion drew back in his seat. Jareth did not usually stop to chat. His back grazed that of the chair and he flinched, giving in to sit forward instead.
"Of course," he said, and flexed his hands to release the tension from them. "I did nothing that would provoke Liana. You know that." He watched with intrigue the way Jareth inhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Davion...you have no idea. You have no fucking idea." There was desperation in his voice and he shook his head to clear it. He was deeply frustrated, but not in the way he expected. "I'm supposed to be able to trust you, Davion. Who else, in this entire world, am I to trust if not you?"
Davion was silent. Taken aback. It was very rare that Jareth took the time to actually scold him over something. He'd thought this was all in good fun but it seemed his brother was thinking thoughts more dire.
He found his hands curling into fists atop the table. At least...they were talking.
"You can trust me, Jareth," he said, all of the mockery leaving his voice. Jareth smiled spitefully and shook his head again.
"Can I? Please elaborate. After this latest stunt, what makes you think you deserve any of my confidence ever again?"
"Come now, t'was only in good fun. After her actions on the dance floor, I thought it not an entirely unwelcome prospect. You saw how much she enjoyed herself. I never took you for the jealous type-"
"It's not about that, you idiot," Jareth snapped. He was getting so frustrated, this blasted headache was now pounding behind his eyes. He scowled and pinched the bridge of his nose again. "Punishing you is a wasted effort. You've always made sure of that," he grumbled.
Davion said nothing right away, pressing his tongue against his teeth as he mulled over Jareth's words.
"Yes...I find it more advantageous-"
"To be an actual glutton for punishment? Yes. Disarming your assailants with such avid abandon is a very effective strategy," Jareth said, sighing roughly as he slouched back in his seat. He felt immensely unsatisfied, as he always did when punishing Davion. Maybe that was why he allowed him to get away with so much in the first place.
"Was it not you who taught me thus?"
Jareth was silent, his scowl exuding a painful tension as he pushed away a perfectly ill-timed childhood memory. He sighed deeply, again, and groaned.
"Indeed. A regrettable decision, as it turns out."
Davion watched him carefully as his guard lowered. This was not a Jareth he recognized. This man was tired, torn, and worried. As a stream of blood dripped from his cheek onto his arm, he realized the mood for clever incitements was dead. He found himself feeling put-off by it. He had been rather enjoying his brother's attentions.
It was quiet for a moment before Davion spoke up again, in a much more subdued tone.
"This has nothing to do with the dream I gave her, does it?" he asked, and flickered his gaze up and down when Jareth's response was naught. He sat up a little straighter and stared at him intently. "What's going on with her now, Jareth? What's changed?"
Jareth's eyes opened towards the ceiling at the change in Davion's tone. It was sobered, calm, and Jareth thought, maybe, he was finally ready to listen. He pulled himself upright and ran a tired hand around the back of his neck as he cracked it.
"Sarah's control over her powers has started escalating," he said, receiving a less than satisfied "Oh?" in return. Jareth sighed then, giving in to lean forward and rest his hands out on the table. He was surprised with how easy it was for him to then say, "And...I made a pact. With Liana."
Davion's brow drew tight.
"A pact? What sort of pact?" he asked. He sounded nervous, and indeed he should have been. Jareth kept his eyes away, reluctant to say anything more.
"I...agreed to abandon my ambition of ever acquiring her."
"You did what?" Davion asked, stunned. When Jareth didn't immediately respond, he leaned towards him a little and probed further. "For what? What could possibly compel you to agree to that?" Jareth's eyes met his brother's for just a moment, and Davion drew back at the level of pain he saw in them.
"...For Sarah," he said, and tore his eyes away. Instead he brought a hand to grip his forehead as he pressed into his temples. "...For the chance to actually be with her."
"Are you serious?"
The absurdity heard in those words had Jareth glaring over with well-tested impatience.
"Yes I am serious," he snapped. "You have no idea what has been given and taken in the slaughter of all this. I know you can't fathom, and much less care, but for the final time I love this woman. More than anything. I would rather see this desert spread until it consumes our entire world than be in a place left without her. Do you understand?"
Davion didn't know what to say. He was disturbed, greatly. He'd acknowledged his brother had genuine feelings for the girl, and yes he had been told those feelings were of love, yet it was a sentiment rendered little more than superficial to him. His brother had never despaired over anything before, save his namesake. The idea that a woman, a mere mortal woman, could bring The Goblin King, in all his might, pitifully to his knees was honestly ...frightening.
And yet, as he observed him, he knew he'd meant those words. He really would watch the world burn so long as that foul-mouthed girl-child would stand, hand in hand, beside him. For a moment, his thoughts turned to the fate of the kingdom. Did...did he even realize how absurd an image that painted?
"...So that's it then?" he finally asked, beside himself. "Our legacy is gone? Just like that? You're off to live your happily-ever-after while the Labyrinth is, what, left to steadily crumble?"
"I don't know. If I could be so lucky."
"Jareth…" Davion started, and glanced away around the room. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound like a madman."
"I am mad. Seethingly."
Davion shook his head.
"I cannot, in any way, believe you have been reduced to this in a matter of weeks. Nearly a thousand years, since we were boys and you first heard tales of the Labyrinth's might, you have wanted nothing. Nothing but this. And now...I'm sorry. I find myself flabbergasted." Jareth said nothing, feeling no compulsion to justify himself whatsoever and merely glowered. Davion took a deep breath and sighed. "So this deadened air I've sensed around her, is that the work of this pact?" The deflection was enough to draw Jareth from his brooding, and his brow twitched in response.
"...In a sense," he said, then sat up straighter. "I agreed to live and let live, and I suppose in good faith, The Labyrinth agreed to pull energy away from her, prolonging her awakening and allowing me more time to...figure it out."
"She can do that?" Davion asked, bemused. He'd never heard of such a thing. That shouldn't even be possible.
"Apparently," Jareth said, with just as much disbelief. It seemed everything he thought he knew of Liana's capabilities was slowly unraveling, leaving him to wonder, dreadfully, just how much of his father's teachings and forewarnings had been an outright lie. Perhaps he was never actually fighting with Liana. Perhaps she'd been controlling them all from the start.
"And that is why some of your wards are becoming destabilized…" Davion mumbled, nodding slightly. He heard Jareth sigh again. "I was curious why I was suddenly able to enter her mind without a hitch. Are your wards clinging to the seed of power within her for sustenance? Is that how they are able to still operate at all? That is a very fickle bond, Jareth. If your protection of her is becoming hit or miss, you should transfer them into conduits."
"I know this. Obviously. I simply have not had the time. And I did not think it was something I needed to worry about so urgently when all we were planning to do this weekend is visit you, my loving, ever-trustworthy, brother." There was exasperation in his voice, a reminder that his brother's indiscretion was far from set aside. Davion's eyes flickered down, the lashes at his back being the least of his concern. He thought over everything Jareth had told him and...
"Jareth...things are becoming very precarious. Surely you hear how bad this sounds? An unnatural aura is surrounding her...to others it might seem like just another ward, but you must realize, if it's undoing the magic around it then it is no safer an alternative. Things cannot continue as such for long. It's too dangerous-"
"You think I don't know that?" Jareth interjected, his voice barely restraining itself from shouting. The hand which had been supporting his forehead clawed out between them in an aggravated gesture. "I have no fucking idea what to do. If she takes control of those powers, if it doesn't kill her in the process, there's no telling what will happen, if she'll be able to stabilize it or if the entire world will begin to unravel."
"Perhaps you should have accounted for that before deciding to keep her." Jareth glared at his brother's patronization. His tone wasn't helping his headache any. At the same time, catching his brother's scrutiny helped curb his angst, and he settled down with a harsh breath.
"I didn't...I didn't think it would take so long," he said, closing his eyes as he pressed the tip of his thumb into his temple.
"To trick her into concession?"
That phrase, now made audible, had him twitching in revulsion.
"I don't want to trick her," he said, and shook his head subtly. "I don't think I can."
Davion's look of concern turned to a full scowl and he leaned away.
"Jareth...You're a disgusting fool. You know she loves you, right?" Those words might have brought relief had they not been the crux of the issue all along. Jareth gritted his teeth and turned towards Davion.
"Yes," he said, surprising Davion by meeting his gaze sternly. "She will not bring herself to say it, but yes. I know." And he'd known for a long time, probably before she even knew it herself. He could smell it on her through her pheromones. He could gleam it from her in her dreams. He'd never wanted to face it then, never wanted to admit it had always been a wasted effort. It didn't matter if she loved him if she had the conviction to keep it to herself.
"It seems the legends were wrong then. That it will not be so easy." Davion's words were solemn and contemplative. Jareth's eyes, which had drifted off as he spoke, turned back to Davion.
"No, it's not the legends that are wrong," he said, and fisted his hands. "It's me. My arrogance. I thought persuading her to fall in love with me would in turn inspire her submission. But...there is nothing submissive about that girl. Ever. Least of all her love." And to that he did feel resentful.
If he had come to her as a white knight and tricked her, been everything she rendered him in her teenage-dreams, then perhaps he really would have Liana's heart by now. But none of that mattered, because that's not the path he chose. Instead he'd been selfish. He wanted her to love him as his equal, when he himself had no idea what that really meant. He just wanted to be seen. He wanted her gaze to fall on him rather than go through him as it had the very first time they'd danced...
He simply, at the time, did not understand what it would mean to possess such a thing, what it would invariably cost.
"At first, I thought breaking her would be enough. I thought if I cracked her spirit, if I confused her, coerced her body to betray her, then she would submit and yield me the Labyrinth, and thus be none the wiser. I underestimated her resilience. I underestimated the lengths she would go to prove herself my equal."
After seeing the way it had destroyed his mother, Jareth thought love to be a unanimously submissive emotion, a weakness, and thus never before allowed himself to experience it. Witnessing what it had done to Aurelia only confirmed it. It made sense to him then, that was the state of mind needed to coerce the subconscious submission of magic from Sarah. He'd tried to remain immune, detached; even after stealing Sarah back, he tried to keep his feelings for her restrained. The love he felt for her was all that he knew, and thus all that he feared: it was unconditional, brutal, undignified, and maddening, and she had a way of wrenching it out of him mercilessly and without consent. Like those before him, he'd given in to that weakness. She simply did not give him the voice. But the way she loved him...the way he knew she loved him...it was not as planned. It was assertive and expectant. It came with strings and it was held, always, just barely out of reach.
"Why not just tell her then?" Davion asked, pulling him away from thoughts of the past and back into the moment. "Perhaps she would submit it to you should she know exactly what's at stake here." Jareth took a moment to respond, as if that moment was the first he'd ever taken to ponder the idea. It wasn't.
"If she knows what she must do, she will not know how to do it. She is not a fae, remember? She has not the same...faculties as we. I can't...I can't risk her losing control. I will not lose her."
"But is that the truth, brother?" And to that Jareth's jaw tensed. His brother was casting a very knowing eye. "Or are you simply afraid that should she awaken and survive, and stabilize the Labyrinth's power, that there would be nothing left preventing her from leaving you?" Again Jareth did not answer, which was an answer in and of itself. Davion sighed and rolled his eyes. "This love business of yours has really painted you quite unseemly. If only Father could see you now…"
"Davion," Jareth said, with warning. Davion paused but only sighed a second time.
"What course of action shall you take then? You cannot keep something like Liana at bay forever. If you protect your precious mortal from Liana, you make her vulnerable to the rest of the world and vice versa. It seems betting on her concession is a failed effort, so what will you do? As you have so nobly proclaimed, you will not lose her and I believe you would rather not lose the world either…" And then Davion stopped. A thought sprang to mind as he verbally mused. Jareth was still quiet, though the aura of his brooding was near palpable. "Perhaps you should prepare her then, for the inevitable."
"Prepare her?" Jareth repeated. Davion shrugged.
"Obviously. Teach her the theory of our magic. Allow her the chance to withstand being overtaken by the forces of Nature and perhaps your perspective will change as well. You're afraid she will remiss you should this end in anything but disaster? Pardon me, brother, but your hurt feelings seem to be the least important factor in all of this. If she can control Liana, even to a minor degree, that will still be better than the situation we're currently in. And if she leaves you, she leaves you. May I remind you, there is literally a world at stake. But...who knows, perhaps she will forgive you and love you all the same."
Jareth found himself laughing at that, an impulsive huff that had a wretched smile twisting his face.
"Forgive me? Clearly you have no idea whom you're speaking of," he said, masking the hurt that came with such a thought. He never once expected, nor asked, for her forgiveness. He knew, even in his worst moods, that he did not deserve it. The most he'd ever asked of her was to move on. And she had. She had done so admirably. She had done so with the conviction that nothing would ever be forgotten and that she would never give herself to him completely because of it. He'd sealed his own fate. From day one.
"I suppose then, we are all doomed," he heard Davion say as he gave in to run his hands down his face.
"Indeed."
He was glancing away, forlorn, and looking beyond exhausted as Davion lowered his eyes to his lap.
"Alright...I'm done."
Jareth looked back with a furrowed brow.
"What?"
"This is no longer fun," Davion said, and shrugged. "I've had my fill of tormenting you. Clearly, you have enough to contend with at home. You needn't fret, nor she, at least not from me. I will not bother her any further." Jareth was just staring at him but Davion's manner had returned to the usual nonchalance. "It was never my intention to sever your trust in me, Jareth. When it comes to matters such as this, it has always been my aim to support you. You should know that by now." His eyes rose from his lap and Jareth saw he was now looking a little tired himself. Jareth felt himself relax, if only slightly.
Davion held his stare for a moment, but before Jareth could respond, he sighed roughly and reached up to his cheek. He coated two of his fingers in blood and then brought them to his chest.
"Davion-" Jareth started, but the concern was short lived as he watched him draw a sigil, with clear conviction, over the center of his chest. He wrote his name in it and crossed it out in blood.
"Here. Perhaps this will earn back some of your faith," he said, and wiped his hand clean with a napkin after finishing the mark. Jareth was scowling. This was going too far.
"This is unnecessary."
"No. It isn't."
"I would never ask that of you-"
"I know. Which is why I'm offering it." Their gazes were locked in a war of sorts, Jareth reluctant and Davion much too eager. Blood oaths were dangerous, permanent bonds. It was not something anyone in their right mind took lightly. He couldn't believe his brother was willing to strike one over Sarah. Starting to feel impatient, Davion inhaled sharply and waved a hand. "Well? Your hesitation is beginning to insult me. Do you think I have not the self-control to keep my promise?" he asked. Jareth wanted to deride him, but knew better. A moment of sincerity between them had become far too rare. As they stared at one another, for a brief moment, he felt like he had a brother again.
"For your sake, I surely hope so," he said, then reached out for a knife on the table.
He nicked his thumb, and extended his arm to press the bead of blood into the center of the sigil on Davion's chest. The mark began to sizzle, to burn its way into his body. Davion winced but held still, gritting his teeth at the way the sensation seemed to tear through the very fibers of his DNA and straight into his soul. He'd never been given an opportunity to prove himself since that day, since the day they'd gone to the Labyrinth and she had told him the faith he had in his brother was wanting. Jareth had never forgiven him. Never regarded their relationship as the same. If he did this now, maybe Jareth would finally see he really did admire him above all else. Maybe, one day, he could finally come home.
Sarah paced anxiously in her and Jareth's room. This was bad. This was really fucking bad. She hadn't seen Jareth like that in a long time. The shade cast over him was terrifying. And to think, it would be possibly directed at her next. She bit her nails, she was so nervous. She never bit her nails.
And yet she was in fact waiting. Why was she just waiting? Because he had told her to? Was she too scared to run away? Was she sure she even needed to?
As she thought, it wasn't punishment that worried her so much as the verbal shit-storm she was already playing out in her head. What was he doing with Davion? How long would he be? Would it be okay to jump out the nearest window?
It was stupid of her to run to Davion. She should have just stayed calm and talked to Jareth first. Sneaking away had all but confirmed her guilt and oh how the guilt had her reeling. She pushed her face with her hands and groaned. How was she going to handle this?
Time passed, what seemed like a lot of it, but Sarah's nerves had only marginally settled. She gave in to cease her pacing and sat, perched on her knees, on the end of the bed. She was facing the door, staring holes clear through it as she waited in dreadful silence. Goddamn it.
She waited and waited and waited, her finger tapping furiously at her side proved quite a manic metronome. She was biting her lip, worry starting to compress into a state of dismay when the door finally opened.
Jareth opened the door, and she was no sooner on her feet than she was in his face before he could finish closing it.
"Jareth? I-I'm sorry. I didn't -I didn't mean -I'm just-"
A split second had passed and already Sarah was raving at him. Jareth's scowl worsened as he angled his head away from her. His headache immediately renewed. He finished closing the door and brought his hands to her shoulders to gently push her away from him.
"What are you sorry for?" he asked, and she fell dead silent. He hadn't looked at her yet, but if he did he would have seen the gaping tractor-beam that was her gaze. She was far too prepared for this conversation and Jareth was -was he feeling okay?
Sarah stepped back and her mouth hung open as she tried to reorient herself. She'd expected him to be livid, to be smiling that sneer and reaching for her wrists.
"I-um...that dream," she said, suddenly deflated. She watched as he took a step into the room and moved around her. He was wincing, as if pained, and he raised a hand to comb through his hair.
"What about it?"
And again she blinked. Was he serious right now? Was he watching the same dream?
"I...I'm sorry? I didn't mean-" She held her hands to her chest defensively and darted her eyes at the floor as a waiver found her voice. Jareth, finally bringing himself to look at her, sighed and reached out to place his hands on her shoulders once more.
"Sarah, you have nothing to apologize for," he said, and she glared back at him. This time her brow was twisted with suspicion.
"Are you serious? But I thought…" and then her voice tapered off. Jareth was staring at her, his eyes raking over her nervous features and he realized-
"You thought what?" he asked, his tone commanding back her stare. She bit her lip and instinctively took a step in retreat.
"I thought... you were going to…"
"You thought I came back here to punish you?" he asked, and she paled. "You've really been waiting here all this time fretting about that?" he added, incredulously it seemed. Sarah became offended. His tone implied she had no reason in the world to think such a thing. The anger in her eyes spoke for her and he found himself sighing. He released her and leaned away.
"Are you not?" Sarah asked, and he could feel the apprehension that laced those words.
"While I appreciate your patience, no. I had no intention of punishing you," he said, masking the hurt he felt at the way she looked unabashedly shocked by this news.
"Why?" she asked, which almost had Jareth grinning. However, he was much too tired to appreciate the irony, and only sighed.
"Because you did nothing wrong," he said, and walked away from her. She followed after him and grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt. When he turned back, she saw blood spatter across the front.
"Is-is that blood?" she asked. Jareth cocked a brow but was otherwise deadpan. She drew back and looked at him as if appalled. "What did you do to Davion?" she asked.
Jareth found himself scowling at the judgement he heard in her voice. As if she was in any position to-
"I punished him," Jareth said, enunciating the words callously to make sure she received them to the fullest effect. Whatever trepidation she had been feeling now fell second to the new look of outrage brandishing her face.
"I thought we didn't do anything wrong?" she asked, not knowing where she was going with this. She should be grateful he was not going to punish her and let the topic die. However, that was not in her nature and she did not, in any way, admire the resemblance his current appearance had to the troubled instances of their past. Jareth turned to face her fully. She was afraid and he knew her nerves were getting the better of her. He hated that she was still so afraid.
"You. I said you did not do anything wrong. My brother on the other hand, was entirely, disgustingly, unforgivably out of line. Do you not agree?" he asked, daring her to wedge herself between he and his brother. Sarah pursed her lips and said naught right away. There were a million thoughts churning behind her eyes and he waited bitterly for the one she chose to say.
"I do," she said, shockingly. From the fevered look in her eye he was expecting her to take his brother's side. He felt himself relax and he took in a shallow breath. "With that said, I don't agree with corporal punishment and you know that. What reaction did you really expect me to have?" she asked.
"I expected you to be angry. At him rather than me," he said, and felt some of the hostility in the air die between them. He saw her posture relax and she took a tiny step towards him.
"I am angry, Jareth. I was absolutely livid when I woke up. That's why I went straight to him. I just- I was afraid that you- are you really not upset over this? Are you really not going to punish me?" She was nervous, and he knew she had the right to be. He was simply tired of it. The look in her eyes...it only reminded him just how far from redemption he still was.
"Upset? I am very much upset, my dear, have little doubt in that," he said, and cracked a disingenuous smirk. "However, I have very little room to complain."
"Complain? What are you talking about? I dream-fucked your brother!" she said, then bit her tongue. Jareth's smirk grew wider. Why was he feeling the urge to tease her so badly?
"No. The three of us dream-fucked each other," he corrected, and turned away. He pulled off his gloves and cast them into a nearby chair as he paced away. Sarah followed after him.
"Y-yes but...you weren't really there. He made that figment to manipulate me. I-"
"Sarah-" The impatience in Jareth's voice commanded her attention. It was faint, but it was there. She stood rigidly as he turned back to face her once more. "Davion did not build an apparition of myself to try and break the ice. You did."
"What?"
"The me in your dream? That was your subconscious. You were warring with yourself and Davion took full advantage of it."
And now Sarah was scowling. She never thought...but that made the most sense didn't it? She could sense something was off in the dream. He was being too quiet. He responded physically when she could not bring herself to do so. He voiced no opinions, and had only asked what it was that she wanted.
"But…how can you possibly not be...angry with me?" Her eyes had fallen to the floor. She felt shameful for some reason, like she should have seen through the illusion all on her own and been able to break from it. Davion only did...what she allowed him to do...
"Because we were together." Sarah peered up at the sense of ease that lightened his voice. She found him smiling at her, fatigue in his eyes, and hands full of tenderness that reached up and held the sides of her face. "Because you only said yes to my brother when you thought it was something that I also wanted. You did not betray me, Sarah, you were trying to make me happy. Am I wrong?" He was holding her jaw so she could no longer turn away; however, her eyes still managed to dart with uncertainty.
"...No…"
"Well then?" he asked, and brushed at her temples with his thumbs. "Why would I be angry over such a thing, or much less want to punish you for it?"
"Jareth…" she heard herself saying, her voice soft, subdued. She reached up and placed a hand lightly over one of his own.
"Did you enjoy it?" And she paused. "Do you regret it?" The hand touching his curled and she lowered her gaze to the side. She wanted to turn away but he would not let her. In truth, the strength of his grip on her was comforting, so instead she turned into it.
"...you know the answer to both of those questions."
"Yes, but I'd like to hear you say it." There was a gentleness to him now, a kind of sympathy she was always caught off guard in receiving. He wasn't judging her. He wasn't angry. She exhaled through her nose and closed her eyes briefly. Maybe this was what he meant when he said he did not become jealous easily.
"I...did enjoy it," she admitted, then reluctantly brought her gaze in-line with his. "If I regret it, it's only because you were not really there. With that said, I in no way want that to ever happen again -in a dream or reality." She was quick to add that last part, cutting the air with a hand for emphasis. Jareth stifled a laugh as he released her. She found that an odd reaction and watched him intently.
"Hmph, for now."
"Excuse me?"
"Sarah, I've told you, when you live as long as we do your sense of ethics changes. It numbs, until the means by which you entertain yourself are sometimes...extreme. While I cherish the thought of being the only man who ever knows you, I do not for one moment delude myself into thinking that will always be the case. You are very young. I have a world yet to teach you, and you may find, one day, you wish to teach and be taught by others as well."
Sarah stared at him skeptically. Knowing Jareth to be the deeply possessive creature he was, she did not for one moment believe such words, even coming from his own mouth. Though he seemed to mean them. He seemed to mean them with an air of sadness that hadn't yet come to pass.
"And...you're okay with that?" she asked. She didn't like the look on his face; it looked defeated. Did she want him to be more angry? More impassioned and possessive? She did not want him to look at her the way he had looked at Davion and yet...
"No. I'm not," Jareth said, calling back her attention. His mouth curled on one side and he raised an eyebrow as he swept a lock of hair behind his ear. "Surprisingly, you've turned me into a rather dependent creature. I've never felt envy the way I feel when you turn your gaze towards others. I would have it be mine for eternity." And she actually found herself exhaling with relief at the dangerous glimmer that sparked in his eyes just then. Surely there was something wrong with her. "However...if it were ever your wish to welcome another into our bed, I would not oppose it. And, if you should ever desire the affections of another in private, while I would certainly be bothered, I would not stop you then either. It is your right as a Queen of the Underground to take as many lovers as you wish."
"After I have a kid," she said, quickly. Jareth paused, and his grin humbled. She looked anxious. He was glad this topic upset her as much as it did him.
"A technicality."
"I don't envision myself as that type of person," she continued, crossing her arms over her chest and gripping them tightly.
"Neither do I."
Sarah glared at how impassive he sounded.
"You get possessive over the wrong things, you know that?" she asked, irritably, with a matching glare to boot. "I'd kill you if you ever slept with another woman." She spoke with a bit of a snap. This time Jareth did laugh.
"Hm, do you promise?" he asked, and stepped towards her. She took an instinctive step in retreat, but did nothing else as he reached out for her sides. He stared down at her, his head angled sharply as tension built between them. Sarah found herself gulping. It was just too easy. She found her hand reaching out for his chest...
"Is it really okay Jareth?" she asked, angling her head with uncertainty. His grip on her was firm but not intimidating. She bit her lip as she held her eyes to his sternum. "I'm still worried...should we leave? I didn't think Davion was such…"
"You don't have to worry about Davion anymore," Jareth said, and she glanced up. "You're safe here."
"What does that mean? Is he even alive?" she asked and, after sensing the bit of spark that returned to her voice, Jareth released her for good and stepped away.
"Of course he is. He'll recover just fine, as he always does. I have a soft spot for him, remember?"
"Then how do you know he won't pull any more tricks?" She felt less urgency in following him this time, and simply stood there as he began to pull the hem of his shirt from his pants.
"Because he swore it to me, in blood."
Sarah's eyes widened.
"Blood? Like a blood oath?" she asked. Jareth's brow rose in surprise and he glanced at her as he pulled his shirt up and over his head.
"Yes, actually."
"I didn't realize that was a real thing," she said, observing him curiously as he then knelt down to remove his boots.
"Blood magic is one of the oldest and most powerful forms there is. Very much real, even in your world."
"What happens then, if he breaks his oath?"
She waited as he finished removing his boots and stood straight before responding. He was shirtless, bootless, and was now deftly untying the fly of his pants while their eyes remained locked.
"He dies."
"Wha-are you serious?"
"Deadly."
"Jareth-"
He'd turned away from her, which had her reaching out instinctively. He was too candid. He was always too candid when something actually mattered.
"What better way to assure his allegiance?" Jareth said, waving a hand through the air as he spoke. "As I said, you need not fear him nor for your safety here any longer. He will not, cannot, torment you any further."
Sarah found herself stopping dead at the air of dismissal he was directing at her. Her hands were fisting at her sides, but now she only watched as he continued to head towards the bathroom.
"...Okay," she muttered, now upset for a whole new set of reasons. She didn't like this attitude he was giving her, like he wanted to get away. He was always so imposing when it came to her own personal space, so the anomaly of this current moment had her feeling peculiarly insecure. "Where are you going?" she asked. Jareth stopped with his hand on the doorknob and threw her a look over his shoulder. Their eyes did not meet.
"To clean myself up," he said, with aggravation. That only made her frown deepen. He looked worn out. Indeed, he probably was. Maybe she was being inconsiderate… "-and find a way to rescind myself of this rather inconvenient start to the day." And now Sarah glanced to the floor, breaking under the scrutiny of such words. Damn it. She was supposed to be stronger than this.
"Alright…" she said. It was a word that hung in the air, as Jareth realized there were many others she was keeping herself from saying. He brought his gaze to her and frowned at how unsettled she looked. His expression softened and he turned back to face her a little more fully.
"There are some things I'd like to check up on, now that I'm here in person," he said, all trace of annoyance leaving his voice. Sarah looked up. He caught her gaze and gestured towards the door with his eyes. "I've sent for your breakfast. It should be here shortly. I've also sent for the nymph, I believe she mentioned having some things planned for you today." He watched Sarah blink. She looked caught off guard.
"Oh...okay. Will I see you at all?" she asked, trying not to sound disappointed. He had promised it would be just the two of them this weekend...
"I'll be back in the afternoon," he said, and waited for her response. Sarah however, was feeling quite put-off. She recognized his tone and knew, while he might not admit it, that she was becoming an inconvenience to him. Instead she nodded and rolled her eyes as she turned away. She bit her lip when he could no longer see, and walked casually as if she were not bothered at all. She both flinched and sighed in relief when she heard the bathroom door shut behind her. Well damn. That had not gone as expected. At all. A part of her wanted to join him, to wash him, and touch him, and maybe be touched back. That would be nice, she thought. However, she was too apprehensive and thought it better not to press her luck. While he may not be angry with her, Jareth had admitted he was upset and that was arguably worse.
She sat on the end of her bed crossed-legged as she waited for Marie. It was only about another five minutes before her tell-tale knock came at the door.
"Come in," Sarah said. Marie opened the door and was actually ducking down as she peered around it. Her eyes spotted Sarah and her tentative expression turned into a smile.
"Ah. Good morning," she said, and straightened as she entered the room. Sarah saw she held a covered tray in her hands. "I ran into your waiter in the hall, so I thought I'd bring you your breakfast," she explained, closing the door behind her. Sarah smirked. It was small but still genuine, and her eyes fell vacantly on the shiny dome cover as Marie glanced about for a place to set it.
"Oh, thanks...you can just put that on the bed," Sarah said. Marie blinked quizzically, but did not think twice about it before doing as Sarah suggested. She then took a seat on the vanity chair in front of her.
Sarah removed the lid and a waft of sugar and vanilla filled the air. Sarah felt her mouth water a little. God, she loved french toast.
"Have you had anything to eat yet?" Sarah asked. Mariella folded her hands in her lap politely.
"Oh yes. Lord Davion had the most considerate spread sent to my room. All of my favorites." The mention of Davion's name put a tick in her jaw, but Sarah was able to suppress it from turning into a scowl.
"I see...you two seemed to get on well last night," she said, fishing discreetly. Mariella smiled and nodded.
"Indeed, t'was like I never left." Mariella was smiling but Sarah's frown only deepened.
"Have you seen him this morning?" she asked. Mariella shook her head.
"No...I believe he left very early this morning. Or perhaps last night. I'm afraid I can't quite remember," she said, with a sweet little laugh that suggested she was secretly berating herself for it. Sarah directed her scowl down at her plate as she ate. Apparently, if she was reading between the lines correctly, Davion had invaded her dreams after invading Mariella. What a skeev. "And how was your night then?" Sarah peered up at Mariella's question. "You and His Majesty seemed to be in fine spirits when last I spied you. Did you have fun?" Sarah's eyes widened for just a moment as memories of their violent sex-romp in the hall came fervidly to mind.
"I did. For a while anyway." She rolled her eyes back down to her tray, leaving Mariella to gape haplessly.
"Oh dear," she said, all sense of morning cheer falling to dread. "Has something happened? Is that why His Majesty sent for me and is not with you now?" Sarah glanced towards the bathroom door and pointed at it with her fork.
"Pretty sure he's scalding himself in the shower in there, actually," she said, which only had Mariella's look widening with alarm.
"What? But-perhaps then I should-"
"Oh, please, don't worry," Sarah interrupted, waving her off. "I highly doubt we'll see him come out," she said. Knowing Jareth, he'd simply dress and poof away if he hadn't already. She wasn't concerned about an awkward run-in. At least not yet.
Mariella's posture eased only slightly.
"If you insist…" she said, her eyes cautiously glued to the door in question. "May I ask...what's happened? Have you had another argument?" Sarah sighed heavily.
"No, actually. We didn't. For once, it has nothing to do with me and Jareth."
Mariella digested Sarah's words more than she'd intended her to, and after a moment the lightbulb clicked and her brow sagged with worry.
"Oh...has Lord Davion been up to his tricks again?"
Sarah laughed. She had to. Was it really that obvious?
"You could say that."
"Oh, Sarah. I am so sorry-"
"Why? You had nothing to do with it."
"Yes but...forgive me, but I know Lord Davion's nature. I did not suspect…" And her voice trailed off. Sarah eyed her for a moment, fighting off the return of her irritation.
"Yes well, I'd rather not talk about it right now. If that's alright," she said. Mariella blinked, killing the concern Sarah did not seem to need, and pursed her lips.
"Of course."
"Jareth said he's going to be busy for a while, so I figured we could have that girl's day you were talking about," Sarah deflected, trying to make it seem like it had been her idea rather than Jareth's. She did not like being handed off like that. Like she needed a babysitter. She didn't like that she probably did.
"Oh. Oh I see. I'd be delighted. What did you have in mind?" Marie asked. Sarah shrugged.
"That's up to you, I guess. Show me the works."
After breakfast, Sarah confirmed that Jareth would not be exiting the bathroom, and decided to take her own shower. She dressed and left with Marie. The castle was much tamer in the morning, as Marie had informed that most residents did not rise until noon. Sarah was not surprised. When she had asked where Marie was taking her, her response had been "the spa" and to this Sarah was surprised.
"This place has a spa? Like an actual spa?"
She wasn't sure why, but that seemed like something far too modern and far too Aboveground a concept. Marie looked at her quizzically.
"Of course there is a spa, silly. We're not barbarians."
Mariella led Sarah deep into the castle's inner-workings. It was darker, damper, and hotter. Actually, it was a little hard to breathe. Sarah found herself gripping her throat as she struggled to adjust to the humidity. Marie however, appeared unaffected.
They arrived outside a set of double doors which opened at their presence, and Sarah was surprised by the room inside.
Everything was made from heavily veined white marble tiles. The stone was slick, well-polished, and created a near-seamless pattern that encompassed the entirety of the space. Somehow the room was well-lit, and that's when she spied a number of circular mirrors positioned in the corners that reflected a hazy beam of light around the room -the origin of which Sarah could not find. They entered and their footsteps echoed. There were a number of fae attendants ilding by, wearing loose white linen. Sarah peered around and saw the walls were lined with chaises, small tables and potted plants set to accommodate each one. In the center of the room was a small rectangular pool. The walls were only slightly raised from the floor, and she could hear the sound of running water as it cascaded down into it on all four sides. She saw a number of doorways on the far wall, and in the center an open archway that led to a hallway -the end of which she could not yet see.
Upon their arrival, the fae stopped whatever they were doing and turned to her. Some of their eyes widened, she noted, just before they bowed. All of them. In unison. "Your Majesty," they said, again in tandem, and the sound echoed a bit against the walls. Sarah forced a smile. It was definitely going to take some time to get used to that.
"Good morning," she said, greeting them as one. They rose from their positions and looked at her. Like they were waiting. Was she supposed to say something else?
"Your Majesty? Oh gracious me, forgive us, we were not expecting you. Please, how may I assist you this fine morning?" It was a woman who spoke, a curly blonde who stood out from the rest. She wore a long, sleeveless, white tunic that swayed about her ankles. She smiled as she approached, her gaze daring and unlike the rest.
"Oh. Um...I don't know, really," she said awkwardly. The woman was a great deal taller than her, with a warm hue to her skin and hair. Her eyes were a deep misty grey and she looked...familiar somehow.
"Forgive me Candela, t'was I who suggested we come here. It was a bit impromptu," Mariella said, smiling with a cute little shrug. Candela brought her eyes to Marie and smiled in kind.
"No apologies necessary, Mariella," she said, and bowed to The Queen. "My name is Candela, Your Majesty, I manage the spa here at Fort Fyrn." Sarah didn't respond right away, still mulling over the fact that, apparently, Davion's courtesans also had day-jobs.
"Oh. I see. A pleasure to meet you," she said, fighting the instinctive, Aboveground urge to reach out and shake her hand. Candela smiled again and turned, gesturing towards the room.
"The pleasure is ours. What an honor it is to pamper our new queen. We offer many services. Have you any idea which you might like to sample?"
"Um...not really."
"Hm, perhaps a bit of everything then?"
She was smiling at her warmly, though with a trace bit of knowing that Sarah had come to recognize. There was something on her mind, something kept pressed behind the back of her teeth. Sarah wasn't sure what to make of that. Her experience of fae was that they were often high-handed. Maybe Candela was simply being condescending.
"Oh, shall we start with a manicure and pedicure Sarah? And after that a nice, hot-stone massage. Ooh, perhaps then we might stay a spell at the sauna."
Sarah's suspicion of Candela was broken by Marie's excited outburst. She turned and glanced at her, to find she was steepling her hands together in a flurried little clap. Sarah forced away the impending scowl and cracked a grin.
"Whoa, whoa, you guys have mani-pedis?" she asked.
"Of course we do..." Candela answered, letting her eyes rake all over Sarah before she turned back to face her. "...we are not animals."
Sarah thought her first experience in an Underground spa was surreal; then again, this was her first experience at a spa in general. Karen had offered to take her on more than one occasion in the past, but the idea always made Sarah cringe. She liked Karen, but she wasn't close to Karen. And that bit of mother/daughter bonding-montage seemed an endeavor far too contrived.
But this was nice. Being pampered without fear of sexual assault was nice. They'd had a massage, a nearly non-awkward mani-pedi, did some aromatherapy -that Sarah didn't really understand- and were now relaxing under the lulling tune of a harp and some sort of chunky, possibly magical, assuredly-rejuvenating, facial.
"So Marie…" Sarah said, feeling as though she may drift off to sleep if she didn't. Damn, these people really knew what they were doing. She hadn't felt this relaxed in months. And that harp? Who the hell was playing the harp?
"Yes?" Marie asked. Sarah rolled her head to the side. They were laying on chaises away from the rest. Sarah crossed her ankles as she reached for her drink on the table next to her. She had no idea what it was, but it sparkled.
"How does it all work here…" she started, then took a long sip through a straw. "I mean, everyone here is a courtesan right? And yet you all also have jobs? I don't quite get it." She glanced at her toes. They looked very neat. She and Marie had each traded their clothes for a white fluffy robe and nothing else. It fell to about mid-thigh, which might have worried Sarah had the people in this spa been anything less than pleasantly disinterested in what was beneath it. It was a stark and suspicious contrast to the way she saw, and even recognized, some of them from the previous night.
"Oh. Well, yes. You see, we are a self-sustaining colony," Mariella said, earning Sarah's side-eye. "Lord Davion engages only a few actual servants. The castle and all its facilities are maintained by us, ourselves."
"Oh...and does that...function well?"
"Yes, indeed. We rotate in shifts, you see. One week, I might be working in the kitchens. The next, here in the spa, and so on. The fourth week of rotation we are given off, and made free to enjoy the luxuries we once labored."
Sarah savored the taste of her drink as she mulled this over.
"Hm...interesting."
"However, some of the more long-term courtesans -like Candela- have permanent positions. That is most desireable really. It means we are invaluable to our Lord."
Sarah had to bite back a huff of laughter at that. The tone of Mariella's voice was just...
"Wow, if there could be a more fascist way for a man to show his affection…" she mumbled, sardonically, and shook her head. She was looking away now, and set her drink back on the table. Mariella tilted her head and frowned.
"I see you're still perturbed," she said, and again received a disingenuous smirk from Sarah.
"Heh, that's putting it mildly."
"Are you alright though? Lord Davion, he did not hurt you, did he?" While Sarah seemed dismissive enough, Mariella was still worried. She could only imagine what sort of mischief he had gotten himself into now, and was deeply disappointed it had been at Sarah's expense.
"Huh? No. No…he didn't." And that was a response that surprised her. Mariella's brow furrowed, resisting her own curiosity as best she could.
"Hm...well...please do not think that because of our familiarity that you cannot talk to me about it. I understand My Lord perfectly well, and I daresay I know him better than most. If he offended you, or caused a rift between you and His Majesty, I'd like to help, however I can," she said, and registered a frustrated sigh move through Sarah's posture.
"Thank you Marie, it's just...difficult. I'm not sure I should even be talking about it at all. I'll just say he...crossed a line that should not have ever been crossed. And Jareth...I don't know. I'm worried though," she explained, which was honestly more than Mariella thought she would get out of her. She sat up a little and turned to face Sarah. They were well out of the way of prying ears, but the inch or two of additional privacy seemed necessary.
"He did seem particularly aggressive during dinner. I apologize on his behalf. I think he may be acting out a bit," Marie said. Sarah looked over with a glare.
"Acting out?" she repeated, dubiously. Mariella pursed her lips and gave her a sympathetic look. Sarah was hiding it well but Marie had learned to recognize the nuances of her expression. She was irate. Offended. Most likely with good reason.
"Lord Davion has a manner of…" she started, and bobbed her head as she thought. "...calling for attention when it seems His Majesty is otherwise distracted." Sarah blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"Lord Davion...he is a deeply sentimental creature, deeply emotional," Mariella explained, doing little to soften Sarah's only worsening look of displeasure. "He expresses himself much more freely than I believe His Majesty does. He looks up to his brother, admires and loves him more than anything. I fear he may be feeling a bit jealous of you." -And to that Sarah laughed
"Jealous? Are you serious?" she asked, scoffing and raising her brow high.
"Completely." Mariella took a moment to think, and then leaned towards her a little more. "He would often despair that His Majesty no longer minds him, that he has been forgotten and left to rot in this place. Whenever such moods come to head, he has a tendency to…"
"Act out?"
"Precisely." Mariella smiled but Sarah's expression was its perfect contrast, so she batted her eyes and carried on. "His Majesty has been so attentive of you, Sarah. I imagine witnessing it for himself has put a bit of a sour taste in Lord Davion's mouth."
Sarah glanced away and pursed her lips. Mariella's words, surprisingly, were making sense to her. She wanted to refute it, but she remembered Jareth had said, just last night, that he had spent the majority of his life protecting Davion, watching over him, and doing whatever that must have entailed. Perhaps, at one time, Jareth really was the doting elder brother and Davion the helpless child. Still-
"That's no excuse for what he did," she said, sternly. She was irritated again. So what if Davion was jealous his brother had a new bae? Regardless of what their past relationship might have been, they were by no means children any longer. And that absolutely, in no way, excused what he did.
"No. I'm not trying to justify him, but simply explain his motivations," Mariella said, urging back her attention. She continued once Sarah looked over. "Try to imagine how hurt he must have felt. He learned of your engagement, of your very existence, from a letter out of the blue. He, The King's only brother, had no idea he was planning on marrying, or was even planning on courting to begin with. He had no idea how much you meant to him." She added that last bit for effect and Sarah knew it. Sarah found her eyes glaring just a bit.
"He's not a child. He's almost a thousand years old. Throwing tantrums like one should be well behind him," she lectured. Which was completely beside the fact that the man-child in question had the magical capacity and sexual voracity to cause real, irrevocable, trauma to those he felt slighted by. She could not believe they were even having this conversation.
"We age differently than you, Sarah. It might be our body, it might be our mind, it's hard to distinguish. Lord Davion I feel is...still very much an adolescent. He was abandoned by his parents, and then his brother. He is a terribly lonely thing." Sarah almost gave in to acknowledge there might be a bit of truth to that sentiment. Almost.
"Lonely? Really?" she asked, her tone lowering deadpan. Mariella's expression became sympathetic once more and she gestured to the room around them.
"Why do you think he surrounds himself with all this? With so many people who act as if they love him? Why do you think he indulges in toxins that dull the senses and pleasures that distract the mind? It helps him to forget that loneliness. Though I fear it never leaves him." Sarah narrowed her eyes. Mariella was making too much sense for Sarah's liking. She'd assumed Davion kept so many paramores because he was a slut, a hedon as Jareth had said, and nothing more. She did not want for one second to sympathize with him, even knowing full well what it could be like to live under his brother's scrutiny.
"Why doesn't he leave then? Or isn't he allowed to?"
"He can," Mariella said, with a shrug. "He does. Although...I think he mostly forces himself to stay here. I think he's waiting for His Majesty's blessing to be welcomed back to Court."
"Roldan said they had a falling out. Do you know what happened?" Sarah asked. Imagining Davion putting himself through the tribulation of exile hoping for Jareth to 'forgive' him renewed her curiosity on the subject. And that was 500 years ago. What the hell could have happened between them that would cause such a thing?
"No...My Lord has never told me of that."
The conversation fell dead for a moment as Sarah pondered. She'd been so interested in Jareth and Roldan's pasts, she completely omitted the fact that Davion was there too. How did he fit into that whole dynamic? Did he have insights that differed from Jareth and Roldan? Should/could she ask? No. No. She was supposed to be seethingly angry with him. She would not let herself be drawn in by curiosity. -At least not yet.
"I get wanting attention-" Sarah said, feeling a bit fed up with all of it. "-but I think...if what Davion really wants is to get on his brother's good side, maybe he shouldn't have snuck into my dreams and fucked me in the ass."
Mariella's jaw dropped and she gaped wordlessly as Sarah glanced away. She reached out for her drink and, with total nonchalance, curled her tongue around the tip of the straw and sucked.
It was well past noon when Sarah and Marie left the spa. It was impossible to tell the time, which had Sarah feeling a bit anxious over when she might see Jareth again. She wondered where he was, what business he was seeing to, and whether or not that was a lie he'd told simply to get away from her. She also thought about Davion and what kind of state he was in. She tried to figure out what would cause blood spatter the likes she saw on Jareth's shirt but only succeeded in disturbing herself.
They were walking down the hall through the open archway Sarah had observed earlier. Apparently, that was the way to the hot spring. And, apparently, leaving without stopping by for a dip was not an option. They were still wearing their robes, though now they each wore the swimsuits Mariella had packed for them underneath. Sarah was thankful she had remembered, knowing it was custom for their kind to swim in the nude.
They were barefoot, and their feet moving against the wet stone of the floor made a scraping sound that echoed from the acoustics of the long, seemingly endless, hallway. Mariella had said that the hot spring was located at the deepest point in the castle, which also meant the hottest. Sarah found herself sweating already, and gave in to loosen the front of her robe and wound back her hair in the effort to breathe more easily. Mariella apologized for the humidity -as if there was anything she could have done about it.
The hallway was constructed differently than the rest of the castle. It was carved from the mountain itself and was left as little more than a raw tunnel. The floor had been smoothed, but there were no tiles, no wooden beams, or stone bricks stabilizing the walls. The torches were brighter here, made of a white fire that Mariella explained was designed to absorb heat rather than emit it. Sarah asked what other places this hallway led to, as they continued to pass doors, one after another, on either side. Saunas, Marie said, some more private than others.
It was one such door that opened just ahead of them and, to both their surprise, a familiar figure emerged.
Roldan stepped into the hall with a hand clawed over the side of his face. His eyes were closed, and it looked as though he were scowling, as he pushed at the skin of his forehead. He took a deep breath, lowered his hand to grip the towel hung around his neck, turned, and then paled, utterly, when he opened his eyes and saw the two of them standing -and staring- directly in front of him.
Sarah stood there and blinked with a wide, altogether-careless, expression. Roldan was shirtless. He was shirtless, and he was glistening, and he was tanned and -for the first time ever she saw him less than completely composed and she-
"Oh. Hey Roldan," Sarah said, awkward as fuck. She turned her gape to Mariella discreetly, who returned the look in kind. Well, that was a relief at least. It seemed Mariella was just as stunned as her.
Both his hands were gripping the small towel around his neck, and tightened subtly.
"Sarah...Mariella," he said sternly, more sternly than usual, and she wondered if perhaps he was trying to forcibly ignore his possible state of indecency. He was scowling a little, a look she registered far too late as he took a step towards them. Sarah's eyes warred with themselves in desperation not to look down. He was barefoot and wearing white linen shorts that clung to his thighs with sweat. She knew he was well-built...well, she'd had a pretty good idea but ...Damn.
His arms were flexed and his hair was loose, very much curled, and wet from the air of the sauna. His skin was flushed and, combined with the ambient light, looked darker in complexion than usual. Sarah, now being within arm's reach, could not help but take clear notice of his broad torso and the thick muscle of his chest. There was a sprinkling of dark hair there that traveled down, thinned, and then resumed downward of his navel. His abdominals were disturbingly chiseled. She'd never particularly regarded Roldan as being attractive before -maybe that was why she found herself blinking like an idiot as if he were a mirage.
"Master Roldan! Oh, good day to you!" Mariella said -a little bit too excitedly. "We did not know you were here. Did you enjoy the sauna?" she asked. Sarah shut her open mouth and played it off with a politely unnerved smile.
"I suppose," he said, sounding thoroughly unsatisfied as he ran a hand through his wettened hair. Sarah's jaw tensed. She really, really, wanted him to put a shirt back on. His gesture just then wasn't helping. "Are you ladies heading towards the hot spring?" he asked.
Roldan spoke casually enough, but he was feeling anything but. He wasn't expecting to run into them here. He'd been caught off guard. The moment he'd locked eyes with Sarah, a horrible torrent of panic surged from the pit of his stomach. It was all he could do to remain composed. He forced himself to smile as he spoke to Marie, as he looked at and acknowledged only Marie. He could feel Sarah's eyes on him, inspecting him brazenly.
"Why yes. We are indeed. Say, would you like to join us Master Roldan?"
Sarah turned and shot Mariella an eye, knowing full well from her tone that she was up to no-good. She was wearing that smile of hers, though Sarah had come to recognize the trace sharpness that betrayed her stare in moments such as this.
Roldan quirked a well-sculpted brow and glanced back over his shoulder.
"Not today, I think," he said, dismissively. "Where is Jareth?" He'd asked that reflexively, though immediately regretted it. It meant he'd have to look over at Sarah when she answered.
"I don't know. He said he wanted to check up on some things now that he's here in person," she said. Roldan, eyeing her from his peripheral, observed her more directly once her own gaze cast itself to the side. She shrugged, and the way the open neckline of her robe fell down her shoulders, just an inch, from the movement did not in any way go unnoticed. His eyes, shamefully, and in spite of himself, flickered to the beads of sweat dripping down her cleavage, and he found himself glaring away.
"Interesting," was all he could say. He felt a rock forming in his throat, a seed of revulsion that badgered him with memories of the night before. He saw Sarah standing before him, scantily clad in a white robe, but what he really saw was the back of her head as he pushed it into the mattress, and the curve of her ass as he fucked her from behind. Gods. What was wrong with him?
He realized just how dangerous giving in to Davion's game was. It was one thing to be with Candela. The woman she replaced was dead. This round it was different. Sarah was very much alive and every time he thought to look her in the eye he was met with sickening self-contempt. Perhaps that was Davion's intended punishment all along.
"Did you have a good night?" he heard her ask. He looked at her instinctively, and feared the flash of freight that brightened his eyes had betrayed him. He caught her gaze and froze. Her eyes were so wide and round. So very green. They were nothing like the woman's from last night. When he didn't immediately respond, Sarah continued with a follow-up question. "I didn't see you after Davion's song. I hope he wasn't bothering you, too."
And then Roldan's brow drew, some of his fear quelling at the slight recognition he saw in her gaze.
"Too?" he repeated, curiously. Sarah pursed her lips and bit her cheek. He'd asked that with a level of perception she wasn't expecting. What the fuck was she supposed to say?
Thankfully, Mariella took pity on them both.
"Yes. You were there, remember? Stirring up trouble with mention of His Majesty's song?" she said, flicking a finger at him as if he were a silly little thing. Roldan blinked and, contrary to his expression, accepted her words at face value. He took a step back and angled himself out of their way.
"Ah. Of course," he said and berated himself internally. Just what was he thinking exactly? That Davion would pull the same stunt with her? He needed to be more on guard, to get ahold of himself, and fast, lest he find himself flogged. "I believe you'll have the pools to yourselves. I haven't heard anyone coming or going." -A statement that had Sarah wondering just how long he had been sitting in that sauna and, more curiously, why. He was absolutely drenched in sweat, and when he'd exited he'd looked...very much bothered.
"Excellent," Mariella said, and took Sarah by the hand. "Shall we then?"
Mariella led Sarah away, briskly, with a secret little smile on her face. She spied on Roldan from over her shoulder as she pushed Sarah towards the door at the end of the hall, but he was already looking away. Poor thing, she mused.
The tick in Roldan's jaw finally revealed itself once they were out of sight, and he turned his head away. His hands fisted at his sides as he fought back a sneer. He was being stupid again. Last night was meant to work her out of his system, not make his attraction worse.
With no better place to hide, he re-entered the seclusion of the sauna. He leaned against the door as he shut it behind him, and sagged in frustration as the steam bore down. It was difficult to see. The room was a haze. His fist gripped the knob tightly.
He'd initially sequestered here in the hope of expelling such frustrations, though it seemed after one mundane exchange that he was far from purified. He leaned his head back against the door and scowled. The heat and the humidity made it hard to breathe, and his chest rose high on a laboured breath. His hand reached down. He scowled harder. Her provocative appearance just now felt like divine fate, choosing now of all moments to condemn him eternally. She was practically naked. She was wet. She was staring him in the eye. His hand gripped harder.
He groaned as sweat beaded on his brow. The temperature of the room was rising considerably, the moisture in the air making his movements slick and audible. He felt disgusting, succumbing to his baser needs like a pathetic animal. He grimaced as he jerked himself harder, and came begrudgingly as his knees buckled and he staggered a few inches down the wall.
His chest heaved, his lungs deprived of oxygen under the stifling humidity, and he swallowed hard. He withdrew his hand from his pants and sagged down to the floor. This was ridiculous. Asinine.
He ran an angry hand through his hair, gripping his scalp to the point of pain, and groaned. He'd told himself he was better than this. He'd told himself it would be just once. That he would think of her only once. As he looked down over himself, he acknowledged his own efforts were working against him. And it was neither Davion nor Sarah's fault.
He exhaled roughly and tried to clear his head. She was just a woman. Just an irritating, foul-mouthed, impudent, girl-child. A child who did not think before she spoke. Who spoke more honestly than anyone he'd ever known.
"Well that was just plain uncanny," Sarah said, after the door to the hot spring closed behind them. It was a loud sound, a boom really, that echoed throughout the space. Mariella turned, her hands still pressed on the handle, and positively beamed.
"Oh my goodness, I know!" she gushed, keeping the volume of her voice in check. "I imagined he had a bit of something going on beneath all those clothes of his but, gosh. He's so robust. I might actually swoon!" Mariella fanned herself with her hand dramatically and Sarah laughed.
"Mariella are you serious?" she asked, with amusement. Mariella smiled wide and turned away from the door.
"Do you not have eyes, Sarah?" she asked, her smile curling devilishly. Sarah laughed again. She couldn't help it.
"Yes. Yes I do," she said. "I'll admit, I was thrown for a loop. A body like that does not match his personality at all," she said, cutting the air with a hand as she and Marie stepped into the room. Before Marie could respond, she looked up and all around.
Their current surroundings were vast and surprisingly well-lit. It was about the same dimension as the vestibule they'd arrived in, with a ceiling just as tall -though the lighting revealed a rather lovely sexpartise vault. The stone was carved and slate-grey, and recessed from the walls were large, curved, niches that housed massive metal cauldrons that burned the same white flame as in the hall. There were eight of them spanning around the room, and she imagined it was because of these that the room was actually a great deal cooler and less humid than out in the hall. On the floor before them spanned an array of irregularly sized and shaped pools. There were a couple dozen of them. Some small enough for a single person, and others large enough for ten or more. The pane of the water brimmed as little bubbles simmered their way towards escape, and a faint hue of steam blurred the space just above. The smell of salt was strong, nearly off-putting, but she acclimated to it quickly.
"Ah, but a body like that may very well make up for such shortcomings," Mariella said. Sarah glanced back with a cocked grin.
"Marie, are you actually aroused right now?" she asked, beside herself. She was trying not to laugh, as that question very plainly did not need to be answered. Mariella's eyes widened and she raised a hand to her heart as if offended.
"Aroused? Sarah, of course I am. We've been living in that stiff castle for how long and I have only just now learned of this? I know I said I was teasing before but perhaps I really should extend an invitation…"
"Wait. You're serious, aren't you?"
"Should I not be?" Mariella's eyes were intense, her ongoing sense of surprise only feeding her stimulation. Sarah had never seen her like this over a man. It was comical, and yet Sarah would agree that she did have a point. The fae males she'd been up close and personal with had rather lean figures. While Sarah had learned long ago that this was indeed her type, it was hard to refute the other end of the spectrum -which apparently was Roldan, who, under different circumstances, could have easily passed for a lumberjack.
"I mean...Hell, you do you, I guess. It's just...Roldan," she said, blinking in disconcertion. Mariella pursed her lips and nodded.
"Hm yes...you do have a bit of a point. I am just very much excited. Can you imagine his work-out regimen?"
"Regimen?" Sarah repeated. She watched as Marie moved off to the side, to a bench along the wall where she now removed her robe.
"Well, you don't think he came about all that muscle by genetics alone do you?" she asked, teasingly. Sarah rose her brow and moved to join her, tugging at the belt of her robe as she pondered
"I uh...hadn't thought about it too deeply, I guess."
"Quite. I suppose it matters naught. Master Roldan is far too principled to lower himself with the likes of me anyway," Mariella said, which had Sarah scowling. Those words coming out of her mouth did not make any sense, especially not when she was standing practically naked and looking so statuesque and perfectly exotic with all those swirling markings that happened to lead the eye dangerously around the finer points of her contour.
"Lower himself? I thought you are considered higher stationed than him now?" she responded. Mariella shrugged, subconsciously taking Sarah's robe from her hand and setting it on the bench next to hers.
"Yes, but I am still a courtesan. Not all agree with such a custom. I fear Master Roldan might be one such fae."
"Hm, his loss then, I guess." They both turned and started walking towards the pools. Mariella leaned in close and gave her wink.
"I'll let you know if I strike out," she said, her eyes twinkling in a naughty way. Sarah recoiled at the thought.
"Please don't."
To Marie's credit, the hot spring was in fact pretty effing great. Sarah wasn't sure why, as it was little more than a simmering bath; but something about it made her feel invigorated. Was it the steam? The fumes? She thought to ask, but not right away. She felt herself relaxing immensely, and sighed deeply as the morning's frustrations just drifted away. It was quiet, except for the low hum of bubbles vibrating around them. She would spy on Marie every few minutes. She was drifting around the pool and the way her skin changed colors so dramatically still amazed her. She thought it might be rude to stare, so she kept her eyes closed as she reclined, but the temptation kept resurfacing. She was just so pretty.
They were there for a while but, curiously, her skin had not yet pruned. Marie had asked if she wanted her to fetch them some drinks, and Sarah was about to reply when a door at the other end of the room suddenly opened.
Sarah and Marie paused and looked to the right. They had been the only one's there, and to Sarah the intrusion felt like one of alarm. Such worry was immediately confirmed when they saw who exactly was entering the room.
Davion appeared, wearing nothing but a towel held with a hand at his hips. He was looking down, lost in thought, as he closed the door behind him. Neither Sarah nor Marie spoke to him and, as he moved further into the room towards them, was plainly unaware of their company. Sarah frowned and sank a little lower into the water.
He walked to stand at the brim of a pool close to theirs, the edges of which connected the two just across from her. Marie drifted back to Sarah's side, wary of how Sarah would react. They both watched as Davion ran a hand through his hair -his braid now loose and tousled- and then cast out his hand as he tossed away the towel.
Sarah managed to suppress her instinctive "eep!" and glared away just in time. Goddamn. She was not a voyeur. Even in her dream she never had to actually look down there. She failed, however, to prevent the little splash of water that such a reaction had caused.
Davion peered over just as his hips sank beneath the water and a weak smile stretched across his face.
"Oh. Hello again," he said, his smile becoming a little more genuine. Sarah, blaming her blush on the heat of the water and nothing else, glared back at him only once she was sure he was decent. "Forgive me," he added, placing a hand over his heart. "I didn't realize anyone else was here."
Sarah crossed her arms and shrugged.
"It's fine. This is your castle after all," she said, with a flippant wave. Mariella was frowning now too. It seemed, much too readily, that Sarah's earlier frustration had returned.
"It's not actually," he said, and she could not help but glance back at him. "It's my brother's castle. Which, I suppose, makes it yours now as well."
Sarah bit her cheek but was otherwise unable to convey any more annoyance. His tone was appeasing, much too gentle. She wanted to continue their argument from earlier, though it seemed they were well beyond it. She turned to face him a little more and watched as he lowered himself into the water. While he had initially turned to face her, she noted how he was still somewhat angled away, intentionally perhaps. He winced as his back hit the water's surface, and to that Sarah scowled.
"Are you alright?" Sarah asked. She caught the flash of a smile move across his face as he glanced away.
"Of course," he said, lightheartedly, though both Sarah and Marie could sense he was biting through those words.
"What did Jareth do to you after I left?" she asked, ignoring the way Mariella turned to look at her as she spoke. Davion's response was another quick curl of the lips as he exhaled heavily through his nose. He seemed tense, in pain even. She didn't see any marks on him when he was standing at the ledge…
Davion reached back and stroked his hands down his braid, pulling it to drape over his left shoulder -the shoulder facing them- and then lowered even further into the water up to his shoulders. She noted he kept his head held in strict profile.
"Why don't you take a guess," he said, deadpan. He would not bring his eyes to her now, an observation that had a new scowl slowly forming on her brow.
"Marie," Sarah said, and glanced over. "Why don't you work on those drinks we were talking about?" she suggested. Mariella nodded, taking the hint, and moved to give them some privacy.
"Of course...My Lord Davion, would you like anything?" she asked. Davion tilted his head back, his eyes very briefly screwing shut as an uncomfortable shudder had him rolling his shoulders.
"Wine I suppose," he said. Mariella left and Sarah's eyes trailed after her until she was on the other side of the room. Apparently there was a bar here. Always convenient.
Sarah sat quietly in her spot for a moment, and then gave in to the curiosity and moved towards him a few feet.
"Jareth said he punished you," she said, not quite whispering. Davion opened one eye and peered at her. Her gaze was much too daring and he questioned whether or not to take advantage of such lowered defenses.
"Jareth says a lot of things," he muttered and watched her scowl. He drifted towards her then, to the edge of stone that separated their two pools. He turned to face her fully as he leaned forward, crossed his arms along the rim, and rested the side of his head against them.
Sarah's eyes widened and she moved towards him in an impulsive little lunge.
"Davion, your face!" she said, worry and fright unmasked in both her tone and expression. It made Davion smile, fully, an expression that then twitched with pain as he forced it away.
"I know. I really am something to behold, aren't I?" he asked, playing it off with sarcasm. Sarah frowned deeply and moved towards him a little more. Davion was surprised by this, having expected her to keep as wide a proximity from him as possible.
"Shut up. In case you haven't noticed, you have a huge slash on your face. That needs stitches. Did Jareth do that?" she asked, and he laughed at the matronly air she exuded just then. She was worried about him? Really? Why?
Doing so much smiling had reopened the clots keeping the right side of his face reasonably clean, causing dark streams of blood to trickle down his cheek and into the water. He ignored the sting. The concern he saw in Sarah's face made it worth it.
"Of course he did," Davion said, angling his head away from her as if he were sparing her the sight of him. "Why do you look so worried Sarah? Was this not what you wanted?"
"Of course not," she said, sternly, which earned a peripheral stare. She saw skepticism in his eyes, however faint. "I don't agree with the way your kind punishes one another," she affirmed. Davion shrugged.
"It's really not so bad," he said and glanced over to Marie. She was keeping busy but all knew it was a pretense. "I've been dealt far worse."
"From Jareth?" Sarah asked. Davion eyes shot back at her.
"From many."
Sarah's eyes narrowed and he could tell from the way she pursed her mouth that she was biting the inside of her lip.
"I suppose then you knew exactly what you were asking for when you invaded my dream last night," she said, accusingly. Davion rolled his eyes.
"Undoubtedly."
"Davion...that's…" He wasn't sure what he heard in those words: worry, judgement, disgust? Regardless, he ignored it and relaxed a little further into the water.
"Well worth it," he finished for her. Sarah's scowl became a glare.
"Excuse me?"
"I found our playtime to be well worth it. Actually, I was disappointed with how lacking Jareth was in vigor this morning. He's usually much more enthusiastic when it comes to making things bleed." He let the last word roll off his tongue in a provocation that had Sarah thinking back to the last time she'd seen Jareth's shirt spattered with blood.
"Davion, your cheek is sliced clean through. I can see that from here. You call that unenthusiastic?" she asked, ridden in disbelief. Davion leaned up and sighed. Such a tone made him wonder if she had any idea to whom she was married to.
"Yes," he said, plainly, and turned away just slightly. Sarah's eyes caught sight of the flush of pink skin rounding his ribs, and angled herself to get a better look at his back. She realized he was keeping it from her; that, until now, he did not want her to see it. Her eyes widened when she saw the hint of deep red lashes spidering down his spine.
"Davion what the fuck," she said, appalled. Davion paused and realized he wasn't quite paying attention. So she had finally noticed? Oops. He turned a little further for her to see and looked back over his shoulder.
"Ah. Yes."
Sarah blinked in stupefaction at the complete nonchalance of Davion's reaction. She moved to a different spot in the pool, closer to him, and at an angle where she could see him completely. His back was covered, COVERED, in deep, swollen, bleeding gashes. The surrounding skin was inflamed and a bright, painful looking, red. She'd never seen anything like it. She couldn't...she didn't want to imagine…
"Jareth did that to you? Are you serious?" Her question was full of doubt but they all knew otherwise. For all the abuse Jareth had put her under, he'd never come close to something like this. He'd threatened it, but seeing it now on someone else brought a new kind of awareness to her. Everyone always said Jareth went easy on her, that he was uncharacteristically merciful, and she...should she be feeling grateful right now?
Davion shrugged and turned back around. From the rise in her voice, he figured she'd seen enough.
"You sound absolutely horrified," he said, smiling at her on the side that was not injured. "And here I was thinking he went very much easy on me." Sarah's look of abhorrence only worsened; so, while he was enjoying it greatly, he thought it would be better to put her at ease sooner rather than later. "It's been a long time since I've been lashed. I was actually looking forward to it," he said, and glanced away with a shrug. "However, to my dissatisfaction, he did not even finish a full set. He seemed put off by it somehow. That would not, perchance, be your influence rubbing off on him, would it?" Sarah's aghast expression became dubious as Davion spoke. What in the fuck?
"What do you mean, you were looking forward to it?" she asked. Davion glanced back at her and tilted his head low as he gave her a very knowing eye.
"I enjoy my brother's exertions. Genuinely. It's the only time he pays me any attention anymore," he said, which struck Sarah deeply and disturbed her even more. Mariella's words came back to her in a most haunting way. She could not fathom what he was saying, that he would really go to such lengths merely to feel...to feel what? Close to Jareth?
"Davion that's...I'm sorry, I can't-"
"I'm also a general masochist. That is the term for such things in your world no?" he was quick to inform. Sarah shut her mouth and just stared at him. He was back to leaning against the ledge and now trailed his fingers absently along it.
"I...didn't know that," she said awkwardly.
"Yes...I find myself becoming bored very easily. It takes a great deal to effectively stimulate me these days. Enjoying pain...is also a very beneficial survival mechanism in this world. It makes one's attackers…"
"Put off?" Sarah asked, repeating his own words. Davion cracked another grin.
"Exactly."
"So Jareth going easy on you, as you say, has nothing to do with me then." Her tone was level and she stared at him intently. This was all very strange and alarming to her. She was trying to take it in stride.
"I'd say it has everything to do with you, dear. You're turning him into quite the doormat."
"Ha. Yeah, okay." She responded impulsively, but Davion's expression did not reflect her skepticism. In fact, he was looking at her very seriously. His eyes scanned over her for fault.
"You seem unscathed. I think that only proves my point." She registered his tone and found the smile waning from her face. It seemed he really had expected Jareth to administer some form of discipline on her as well. Her eyes darted away, feeling suddenly self-conscious for being perfectly fine.
"He feels you are the sole responsible party in all this," she explained, dismissively. Davion continued to stare at her, at the fierce look in her eye and the determination she had not to expose to him any more sympathy.
"Hm, indeed," he muttered, turning away from her, as he pushed back from the ledge. "But...to be honest, it really was unexpected. I antagonized him greatly and still he let me go. He seemed greatly dissatisfied. I have never seen him that way, before knowing you." His tone was coaxing, drawing back her attention against her better judgement.
"How often does he punish you, exactly?" she asked. Her arms were still crossed over her chest, but she'd turned to face him again.
"Not often. Not anymore," he said, and rolled his shoulders again in discomfort. "When we were young however, I had a habit of getting myself into trouble. He would often assume responsibility and take our father's punishments meant for me. I feel I may have abused such selflessness...a bit too often. When our father caught on, he instead forced Jareth to execute his punishments for him before punishing Jareth himself. And I cannot say my brother would do so without a genuine bitterness towards me. He was angry that I'd forced us into such a position. But in the end, he taught me the art of self-preservation. He taught me how to enjoy it, he taught himself to enjoy it, and helped me to use such a demeanor to my advantage. I suppose...it's since become genuine." Sarah was surprised he was so readily forthcoming, and stared at him blankly as he rambled on. Apparently Mariella wasn't lying when she'd said he was more expressive than Jareth. He was staring up at the ceiling, tilting his head from side to side, as he waded in the pool.
"Oh. Oh I...never would have thought...Jareth would volunteer to be punished." -or that he would force himself to enjoy it. Was all his aggression just learned behavior? A defense mechanism as Davion described? She wasn't sure...wasn't sure if she was willing to write him off like that.
"Quite. And let me say, for the record, the marks you see here are but a tickle compared to what our father put us through."
"I'm surprised you can talk about this so easily. I don't know if Jareth would have ever told me that," she said and shook her head. Davion glanced over and gave her a rather sympathetic look.
"No, imagine not. He does not like to talk about our father. Even now."
"And yet you put up his painting outside our bedroom door."
Davion grinned. His eye twitched when he did it, but he couldn't stop himself.
"Heh, I know. I couldn't resist. He was lucky I didn't hang it above your bed." He was amused with himself, which had Sarah's eyes widening in incredulity.
"Why do you provoke him like that? Jesus, Davion…" Her voice cut off, unable to understand why the hell he would knowingly put himself in such dangerous positions. She understood Jareth's exasperation now. She even...if she were a little less self-righteous...would have said Jareth's behavior towards him had been somewhat justified.
"I told you, it's the only way he notices me."
Sarah shot him a glare.
"I doubt that. You could try being a responsible, trustworthy, less-than-insufferable, halfway-decent person."
Davion held her glare but was plainly unaffected by it.
"Hm...no." And he turned away from her flippantly. "I don't mind being on the receiving end of my brother's darker urges. It's how we have always been. And besides, you've only just arrived. You have no idea how lonely it can be." Sarah found herself blinking as his words cut through her irritation. "At some point you may find yourself reaching for the ones you love by any means necessary," he continued, glancing over briefly, and then casually splashed some water over his face. "To be seen by another person is a privilege not to be taken for granted. From the look on your face, it seems you have no problem seeing Jareth for who he really is. And I know he has done nothing but regard you since the moment you met." If she didn't know any better, she might think he was lecturing her. She stared at him with a terse expression.
Somehow, he'd segued the conversation to something a lot more serious and no longer about him. She recalled a time when Jareth had spoken about the superficial nature of Court, about how suffocating and lifeless he found it. He claimed that made them untrustworthy and that was the reason he never held his own. She pondered what Davion meant by being seen, and again something Jareth once said to her echoed in the back of her mind: If you have ever wished to know the reason I show you my darkest sides, it is so I can say that regardless of it all, you knew me honestly.
Sarah frowned. For the first time in however long, Jareth wanted someone to know him. The real him. And he didn't care, or was at least willing to accept, that she might hate him for it. What made her sad was that he considered his darkest sides to be his most authentic. But they weren't. She knew that. She'd always known that. The pretense was not as it seemed, and that was why she was unable to hate him; even at times when she had absolutely every right to, when it became unbearable, and broken, and wrong. Yes, she saw him for who he really was. It was Jareth himself who was blind.
"And what do you see Davion?" she asked, playing into whatever trap he was trying to set. He rolled his eyes back to her.
"I see a girl conflicted over the fact that she's in love with a man she'd rather hate. I also see my brother who, having always hidden behind what he thought was the most appropriate veneer, is not quite as lonely as he used to be." And now her frown deepened, his words hitting her in a way she wasn't sure he had intended them to. "Jareth feels...encumbered. It has always been him against the world. That is why I do not mind that he is harsh with me. Not many realize it but, in the end, he is always harder on himself."
His gaze was cast at the water as ripples radiated outward in reaction to his movements. He looked distracted, childlike, as he pouted at his own reflection. Sarah felt rather melancholy then. It seemed this new, highly-dysfunctional, family of hers were left isolated and tormented by the unspoken grudges they held against one another. A place for the lost and the lonely indeed.
"Davion...what happened between you?" she asked.
"Hm?" he responded, and peered up as if he'd forgotten she was there.
"Back then. It's obvious to me that Jareth cares for you and you him. I just...want to know how you ended up here."
"Ah...that is a simple question to answer. I let him down."
"What?
Davion turned and waded through the water as he moved a little closer to her.
"I have always supported him, when no one else would. He depended on that in a way I never realized until it was too late. There came a time when he needed my support and I...could not give it."
"I don't understand."
"It's not that I would not. I wanted to, more than anything. I simply was not...capable of it," he said, and winced at the memory. Sarah found that curious. "Jareth viewed this as a betrayal. I fear he's never looked at me the same since. Our tension grew after our mother died...It seemed she had been the only thing holding us all together and, as he began to feel the weight of his crown...eventually I realized that if I wanted any manner of relationship with him, I needed to remove myself. My presence in our home was only a reminder that my faith in him was lacking. So I came here." He raised his hands to gesture around the room. "We are better than we were then. At least there is that. I would however...like to go home one day." There was a sorry smile on his face as he said that. Sarah felt another tug on her brow. "I'm sorry for all the trouble. Really, it's had nothing to do with you." His eyes locked on hers were somewhat earnest, and she imagined that was the closest thing she was going to get to a real apology. The imminent look of sympathy faded from her face to be replaced with one of stone.
"I'm not ready to forgive you yet, but I appreciate it," she said, and shrugged. Her eyes had rolled away, and she pressed her tongue to her cheek as she mulled something over. "Jareth told me about the blood oath," she said, genuinely surprising him. He tilted his head to one side as he watched her.
"Did he? I was wondering why you approached me so fearlessly. Yes. It seemed necessary."
His tone had gone back to its usual pleasantry, causing Sarah to peer over at him suspiciously.
"I feel like I should...thank you or something. Staking your life like that is...a really big deal."
"You are a really big deal."
"Excuse me?" she asked, the offense she took from his back-talk falling dead as he then winced painfully. His back arched a little and he sneered as he shivered away the pain. Sarah watched him and just felt...confused. "Why don't you just heal yourself?" she asked. Davion forced a smirk and submerged himself back into the water.
"Because this is the punishment," he said, and sighed deeply as the pain subsided. "Healing my wounds immediately after the fact would defeat the whole purpose of inflicting them. I must allow them to heal naturally, however long that takes." A hand rose from the water and gently touched his cheek, and he grinned. "Well...the ones on my back anyway. I'll probably heal my face the moment you both return south. Be a dear and don't tell him, would you?" He was back to playful and it did not sit well with her. This man was impossible to gauge, even more so than Jareth. The way he phased in and out of serious conversation left her skeptical of her own confidence. Her eyes flickered over him, over the pool he was in that was now surely diluted with blood.
"Well isn't...isn't it a bit um...unsanitary? Soaking in the communal hot spring like that?" she asked. Davion rose one brow and glanced down.
"On the contrary, sanitation was the reason I came here in the first place. The waters have natural healing properties, of rejuvenation if you will. They are also self-cleaning. You'll find no unwanted bacteria here."
"Oh," she said, and tried not to sound too concerned when she asked, "Does it hurt?"
"A bit."
"Are you...enjoying it?"
The mix of revulsion and intrigue he heard in those words had him smiling again. She was such a human. A very typical kitten. That curiosity would get her in trouble one day...
Feeling a new stream of blood coating his cheek, he doused himself with water again to wash it away.
"More and more."
Sarah said nothing to that right away. He was mocking her and she felt foolish for bothering to feel concerned for his well being at all. She glanced to the water, to her own sorry reflection, as she wondered what it might be like should everyone just get along.
"You know-" she started, sounding bored and so very tired of it all. "-If you want to come home...maybe you should have actually befriended me and I might have helped you. I am after all, according to you, turning him into a doormat." Davion's smile widened and he found himself actually stifling a laugh. She looked vaguely irritated again, and he had to admit that even that was an expression that suited her. He didn't understand what about her had brought his brother to his knees, but she was definitely intriguing.
"Hm... It seems we're all a bit self-sabotaging, constantly underestimating the first human Queen of Goblins," he said, giving an impish bounce to the title. Sarah peered over, her eyes narrowed but with the faint hint of a smirk ghosting her lips.
"Well, at least you caught on faster than Jareth."
Sarah went back to her room without Marie. It was well into the afternoon, and the rather sobering conversation she'd had with Davion was making her pensive and not much fun. She was still wearing her robe, but she was feeling a bit more comfortable in this castle-away-from-home, and no longer cared if anyone happened to see her in it. She entered the bedroom to find it empty. She frowned, hoping she would have come across Jareth by now.
With a sigh, she went to the armoire in which the goblins had unpacked her clothes. Maybe after she changed she should go back to Marie…
She untied the belt of her robe and was starting to pull it down her shoulders when the door opened once again. She peered over, and her expression mirrored Jareth's as he looked at her with surprise.
"Hi," she said awkwardly, then glanced down over herself, remarking on the rather lewd image she must be presenting. She was wearing her black bikini beneath her robe, something Jareth had not yet seen. She covered herself up a little, watching him as he closed the door and stepped towards her.
"You were at the spring, I see," he said, seeming to ignore her apparel in a most uncharacteristic way. While she should have been glad, it actually had her feeling greatly discouraged. Was he still bothered from this morning? His tone seemed pleasant enough.
"Ah...yeah. Marie took me to the spa and we went there afterwards," she explained, choosing to now cover herself, and re-tied her belt. Jareth's eyes flickered down at her as she did this, though he said nothing. There was a break in the conversation, and she took the moment to run her own eyes up and down his front.
He was dressed in a way she did not see him often -full regalia from cape to boot. He wore a heavy, midnight-blue, velvet cape that shone and sparkled, capped with a wide brim of fur that was nearly the same shade of blonde as his hair. He wore a thick, charcoal-grey coat embroidered with filigree and leather accents, with shiny black buttons leading down the front. His pants and boots were black; though she noted they were not his usual either, but well insulated -his boots more robust and with thicker tread. The additional fabric at his shoulders made him appear broader, which was something that was already putting her at a disadvantage. He looked very warm, very large, and very handsome. She wondered where he had been that required him to dress like that.
"I see," he said, and placed a hand on his hip. Sarah darted her eyes away nervously.
"I...saw Davion there," she said, and peered back to glimpse the ghost of a frown on his face. "I saw...what you did," she added, warily. She could feel Jareth's aura darkening, though that wasn't where she wanted this to go… "I think Davion has a lot of issues," she said, turning to face him fully. "I think you need to talk to him more." Jareth's look pulled a complete 180. His brow rose and he actually cracked a smirk.
"Really?" he asked, mockingly. Sarah scowled in disappointment.
"I'm still not happy that you brutalized him, but I admit I am a foreign perspective on what is clearly a very convoluted dynamic going on between the two of you."
"Convoluted?" he repeated. Sarah exhaled through her nose.
"Yes. Hence why I think you need to properly communicate. I think you would both benefit." She watched as he lowered his head and looked away from her. He was grinning, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"I'll bear that in mind," he said, taking a haphazard step towards her. Sarah stood her ground.
"Please do. I'm getting rather tired of becoming collateral damage." She let her eyes linger on him a moment longer and then looked away. She was feeling a bit on edge and used the contents of her open armoire as a distraction. Jareth was closer to her now, leaning a hip against a dresser as he stared at her. "So, are you done with your business?" she asked.
"Yes."
She eyed him shrewdly at his clipped tone.
"Was it to your satisfaction?"
"Yes."
And now her eyes narrowed. There was amusement behind that word. He was still staring at her, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes not quite meeting hers.
"Great."
She looked away and scowled at her closet. He was being vague and calculating and she really was not in the mood for it. Maybe he was just picking on her, but she couldn't tell. Her hands were gripping the edge of the doors with mild frustration as she debated what to say to him next.
"Are you going to get dressed?"
Sarah looked over in surprise.
"For what?" she asked. His question was baited -she recognized it in his tone. He tilted his head as he straightened and glanced down over himself.
"I thought that obvious. I promised to take you outside, remember?" When his eyes rose back to hers they came with a quirked brow. Sarah pursed her lips, for some reason doubtful that he was keeping to their original plans. At least his attire made sense.
"Oh...okay," she said, unsure of herself, and turned back to the closet. It was filled with everything Marie had put together for her, already sorted into complete outfits. She reached for a heavy velvet gown and draped it over her arm. It was the same shade of blue as his cloak, though she would never admit she'd put that kind of consideration into the choice. She stepped away and laid it out over the bed, then moved around him to the dresser he once leaned against. He took a step to the side as she yanked open a drawer. "Um...could I have some privacy?" she asked, not quite knowing why she bothered. Jareth lowered his eyes to her hand, noting the apprehensive manner the tips of her fingers traced along her underthings.
"Why?" he asked, to which she had no answer. She'd given up on modesty with him some time ago, though she supposed, now, it was the rocky ground they stood on that had her feeling insecure. She bit her lip but dismissed his question, simply keeping her eyes away from him as she tossed a bra and a pair of underwear on the bed.
She turned away from him, stepped towards the bed with her back to him, and removed her robe. A part of her was feeling suggestive, hoping the sight of her would spark his interest and they could fuck the awkwardness away as they so often did. However, even as her robe hit the floor and she reached behind to untie the knot at her back, he did not move. She pulled the limp top from herself and dropped it to the floor, using the moment to steal a sly glance back at him. He was watching her, intently, as he always did, but whatever he might have been thinking or feeling was left barred behind a perfectly-steeled expression. Maybe she wasn't being forward enough. Maybe she should just come onto him directly.
She let her bottoms slide down her legs next and stood casually in the buff as she took her time in replacing them with black and very racy underwear. She heard the shuffle of fabric as Jareth resituated his crossed arms, but that was all. She almost frowned. Why did she want him to make the first move so badly?
She put on her bra and decided, very quickly, not to bother with seducing him. She was glad enough he'd come back for her at all.
The outfit Sarah had picked was not exactly a gown in a traditional sense, but a proper snowy ensemble. It came with thick, insulated leggings which she nimbly slid up her legs. They were high-waisted, which accentuated the curve of her ass and she made damn well sure Jareth got full view of it as she turned and reached over the bed for her tunic. It was beige, sleeveless, and tucked neatly into the hem of her pants. She pulled on her socks next, in as sexy a manner as possible, then turned for the gown.
It was heavy and sagged in her hands as she pulled it open to snake her arms into the sleeves. She wasn't sure what the proper term for it was, if it was a gown or coat; regardless, it was form fitted with a skirt that belled all the way to the floor. The hem of the cuffs and skirt were lined with blonde fur similar to Jareth's cloak, though hers was flicked with tufts of black. There were two rows of buttons, inner and outer, so no cold would seep through. The first started at the hip and continued all the way to the well of her throat. There was fur around her collar too. It was soft, ticklish almost.
She continued to keep her eyes away from him as she stepped back to the closet and pulled out a pair of boots. They were black, imprinted with filigree, and rose to the knee. In her pockets she found leather gloves, oddly matching Jareth's own she noted, and pulled them on deftly. She stared at her hand for a moment, getting the uncanny feeling that -for the first time ever- she actually felt very much a Goblin Queen.
She was distracted by her musing, and didn't realize Jareth had moved from his spot to stand behind her.
She flinched when a cloak of her own was suddenly draped over her shoulders. She glanced to the side as Jareth's hands lingered there, holding gently and then drifting away as he moved to stand in front of her. The cloak was black, she noted, with a hood, and nestled nicely beneath her furry collar. Jareth's eyes were low on her, and she realized it was because he intended on buttoning for her. His hands reached for her throat, and she heard the quiet snap as Jareth fitted it into place. She tried not to lick her lips. They had been so quiet. She wanted him to look at her.
"Are you ready?" he asked, and she blinked from her daze.
"Yeah...I suppose," she said, her eyes now lively and scouring his face. He had yet to look her directly in the eye and it bothered her like nothing else. Instead he turned and laced her arm with his.
"Let's be on then."
Jareth led her out into the hall, though she was hesitant to ask where they were going. She assumed he would take her to the main gate, she remembered where that was at least, but he didn't. Instead it seemed he was leading her deeper into the castle. They went up several floors, walking side by side in what appeared to be contented silence. Sarah held onto him a little tighter than necessary, feeling more and more insecure with the distance she felt between them. After a while, she could bear the silence no longer and gave in to question him after entering a very narrow, spiral stairwell.
"Where are we going?" she asked. Jareth looked ahead, as he had been, his expression impassive.
"The highest point in the castle," he replied. Sarah peered around.
"Why?"
"You said you wanted the full effect."
She said nothing to that, and merely lowered her gaze as they continued to climb the stairs. They went higher and higher, to the point where Sarah's legs were starting to fatigue. The air changed dramatically as they ascended, losing all trace of humidity, and the temperature dropped steadily with each step.
When they reached the top of the stairwell, there was nothing but a single door awaiting them. Jareth paused, turned to her, and for the first time that afternoon met her in the eye.
"You may want to brace yourself. It's probably going to be windy."
It seemed the lock of their gazes was acknowledgement enough, as Jareth then turned and opened the door. A sharp whistle broke the silence as a gust of wind curled up both their hair, though only Sarah raised a hand against it. He ushered her through, staying close to her back, as he closed the door behind them.
Sarah took a couple of steps out into the open and nearly staggered back at what met her. There was ice coating the stone at her feet, and she slipped like an idiot and almost fell back into Jareth. He caught her arm and straightened her up. It wouldn't do to have her plummet to her death.
"Careful now. It's a bit tight up here."
Sarah nodded, though she thought tight was too inadequate a word to describe their current surroundings.
They were on a balcony, barely large enough for the two of them, with only a thin metal railing separating them from falling to certain death. The walls and rail were covered in a thick layer of ice, making her hesitant to bother stepping away from the safety of the door. Jareth however, gripped her by the arms and guided her forward.
It was cold. Of course it was cold. And yet, somehow Sarah was still surprised by the harsh nip that stung her nose and cheeks as a heavy gust swept by. She covered the side of her face to shield herself from it, then relaxed when the breeze subsided. She looked all around, her mouth hanging open slightly in amazement.
The landscape was vast, limitless, and white. Leveled land spanned as far as the eye could see and blurred into the horizon as a grey mist that then brightened as it rose higher into the sky. The sun was out and, like Mariella had said, it was left a muted white that looked more like the moon as its light diffused through the veil of cloud. She could see nothing else of the land. Nothing.
Feeling a little more secure with Jareth at her back, she took a step forward and gripped the railing with both hands as she peered over it. Jareth was right. They were standing at the top of a spire that was several stories higher than any other. She saw the slick black stone of the castle, but no finer details, as a creeping wave of glacial ice overtook it. It glowed with a blue hue, capped in snow, and fell over the castle walls and towers in massive, very dangerous looking icicles. She marveled at it, at the way the architecture melded with the land in a way that seemed strangely intentional.
Below them she saw a wide, curved wall that enclosed a courtyard. The gates were open and she saw the tiny figures of busy people going about their lives. She saw carts coming and going, pulled by large wooly beasts. There were three paths leading away from the castle: straight, left, and right. She wondered where they went.
"Are you warm enough?" Jareth asked, and she looked back at him with a smile. It caught him off guard, enough so that he nearly darted his eyes away. He did not however. He held her stare and appreciated what was surely an entirely subconscious expression. She looked beautiful in the mountain air, her sharp features and dark hair contrasting starkly against the muted backdrop. Her nose was turning red and her smile stretched a little further, completely unaware of itself.
"Yes," she said, and turned back to the scenery. "It's crazy. The windows are all blocked out...and with the way we traveled, I guess it never really hit me that we're actually here. But seeing it now…" He saw her brow rise in wonder and he felt himself relax. He'd been tense going to her after the note they'd left on. He really did not enjoy brushing her off, but knew it was in both their best interest given his mood. He knew she'd wanted to reach out but he...couldn't. He'd been able to clear his head since then, but things were always mercurial between them when it came to reconciliation.
He sighed to himself at the way she closed her eyes and savored the feel of crisp winter air on her skin, and moved to join her at the railing.
"The air feels different here," she said, inhaling deeply. "Like it's easier to breathe." Jareth reached out and mimicked her posture by gripping the railing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen this view…
"It probably is," he said, and she peered at him. "You forget we live in a desert. The air is always stagnant with dust." He was looking out over the terrain but Sarah was inspecting him brazenly. A slight breeze had picked up the ends of his hair and the chill made him even paler than usual. Adversely, his eyes were never more blue. She appreciated his strong profile before turning back to the view ahead.
"True," she said, distractedly. "Where do those roads lead?" Jareth raised a brow and followed her gaze.
"There are towns to the east and west of here. That is where the miners and woodsmen live who work the mountain. The main road heads south, straight to the Capital."
"I see…" she mumbled. Her eyes traveled alongside a cart heading west and she realized there was something more to see. She stepped around Jareth and moved to the other end of the balcony. There was another road, heading north. It vanished amidst trees, which soon gave way to the mountain behind them. "Where does that road go?" she asked. Jareth watched her as she moved, and took a step to stand behind her.
"That trail cuts through the mountain, into The Shadowlands."
"Oh," Sarah said, a little surprised. She didn't realize they were so close to the border.
"Yes...it's the only way in or out between the two kingdoms. I imagine that is why this place was originally built -to serve as a waystation of sorts," he explained and Sarah nodded. Roldan had told her something like that during their lessons. "Would you like to see the facade?"
Sarah turned around to face him with an open expression. He seemed more at ease than just a few moments ago.
"Sure."
He took her by the hand and led her the step or two back to their original spot at the railing, and turned to look out at the landscape.
"Do you see that carriage there?" he asked, gesturing with his eyes to a dark little box moving steadily south. Sarah narrowed her eyes on it, just barely able to make out the fact that it had wheels.
"Yes."
She gasped when suddenly the tiny little spec became a large and imposing structure filling her entire frame of view. She took a step back and blinked, clinging to Jareth as she realized he had teleported them to that very spot. The sound of crunching snow and horses hooves filled her ears much too abruptly, causing her to actually feel disoriented. Jareth was hanging onto her, as if he expected such a reaction.
"Steady now," he said, with a faint smile. Sarah shot him a glare.
"You should warn me before doing that," she said, pulling out of his grasp. He let go effortlessly, ignoring her weak display of irritation.
"I thought I did." She huffed and rolled her eyes away, which then landed on the carriage as it moved farther and farther away from them. "Do you see that?" he asked, and pointed out past the carriage. Sarah narrowed her eyes. There was a faint silhouette emerging from the fog.
"...Yes? What is it?"
"The lipsgate."
"Oh," she said, intrigue perking in her voice. She'd never seen one before, not that she could see this one very well now, but still. It was a flat arch and, from the grey color, she assumed it was made of stone. She turned around and faced the castle. They were quite a ways away from it, but she realized that was necessary in order to get the full view of it.
It was massive. Perhaps just as large as The Castle Beyond The Goblin City -and only part of it actually protruded from the mountain. It was black and frostbitten, ascending in tiers of layered defensive walls. The outer barricade was taller than she'd thought. Perhaps a good 50 feet high, and the gate was not much smaller. There were minimal windows that looked the size of pin-pricks dotting along the exterior walls, and many, many, towers that rose in different widths and at different heights to create an architectural bouquet of sorts, the apex of these structures being a slightly off-center spire that she inferred they had just been standing at.
From this vantage she could appreciate the natural wonder of the mountain and the glacier that was slowly consuming the castle. She raised her head high but its summit vanished well above the cloud-line. The icicles that covered most of the towers were massive, nearly the size of the towers themselves, and came to sharp points that were as foreboding as they were stunning. There was forest on either side, which traveled up the slope and into the fog.
"You look impressed," Jareth said, standing beside her. Sarah's wide eyes lowered from the sky but did not turn away from the castle.
"I am," she replied. She almost added that it was more impressive than the first time she'd seen the Goblin City, but refrained, not wanting to insult him. As her eyes scanned, what finer details she could see looked vaguely Gothic, which had her wondering which world actually established the style first.
"Good." He enjoyed the awe he saw in her eyes. It filled him with pride. Not many appreciated the world the way she did, and her perspective on its beauty had always been refreshing. Most fae detested the cold just as they detested the desert, but not Sarah. No, she looked to be reveling in it. He felt the urge to reach out to her at that moment but stopped himself. "Would you like to see something else?"
Sarah glanced back and stared up at him.
"There's more?" she asked. Jareth grinned, and reached out to wrap an arm around her waist. He tugged her to him and she raised her hands to his chest to brace herself.
"Hang on," he said, and her eyes widened in anticipation before blinking furiously as they adjusted to a totally new landscape.
They were in a forest now. With thin, spindly trees spaced a healthy distance apart. Some were fir, others birch, but all stood tall with high leaves. She stepped away from Jareth and turned all around. She could not see the castle or the road, only forest as it stretched ever-onward.
"Where are we?" she asked. Jareth looked away, around their surroundings, and shrugged.
"A forest. The castle is just east of here, though we are a ways further up the mountain," he said. Sarah continued to look around and remarked on the dead silence of the environment. The canopy sifted the snow, leaving the ground layer thinner and easier to tread through. She tried to listen to the sound of birds or animals, or even the wind, but there was nothing.
"Why are we here?" she asked. Jareth took her hand in his.
"There's something I want to show you."
Sarah gripped his hand as he led her deeper into the woods. The sun was a little brighter here, its light cutting through foliage as beams that highlighted particles of ice that danced in the air. It made the entire forest shimmer in a visage of quiet serenity, the likes of which she didn't think could exist in the Aboveground.
The sound of their boots moving through the snow was the only thing breaking that tranquility. Jareth was silent, though the way he held her hand firmly in his gave her the confidence to walk closer to his side.
Soon, they came upon a clearing. The canopy gave way to a circular alcove, the light of the sun rendering the seamless pane of the snow a blinding white. To Sarah, it seemed almost wrong to disturb it, though Jareth did not hesitate.
They entered the clearing and Sarah peered from left to right as her eyes spied on eight snow-covered stumps encircling the area. Her eyes narrowed as they passed them by. She recognized this place…
In front of them was a large tree, a different breed than the rest. It was grey, old, and dead. Its bark twisted and suffered deep contusions that split into a familiar gash at its center. Its branches fell low and spanned wide, though it was the only one without leaves. Jareth slowed as they neared it and approached what she assumed was an altar buried in snow.
"Another Druid?" Sarah asked. She looked worried, but she wasn't. If anything she was confused. She looked to Jareth for his answer. He was staring up at the tree, his expression pensive and somewhat lost.
"Once," he said, and that was all.
Sarah released his hand and stepped away from him. There was something different about this place compared to where their wedding was held. It felt different. It was empty and yet...there was a hum. A low hum that Sarah could feel but not discern. What did that mean?
"Is it dead?" she asked. She knew that there was currently only one Druid left in the Goblin Kingdom and it was near the Capital. She frowned as she looked at it. The hollow that once terrified her now evoked a sense of pity.
"No...not exactly. It's just gone." There was a somberness to his voice, a sense of disappointment that Sarah understood. She knew these creatures were revered, worshiped, and what it meant for a monarch to have one, let alone several, within one's borders. While no-one had ever stated it explicitly, she'd learned that Jareth cared more about the spiritual aspect of his culture than he let on, and so found herself frowning with equal disappointment.
She left Jareth's side and stepped around the pillar, moving to stand directly in front of the tree's hollow. She peered into it and heard a faint echo, like the sea. She wondered how deep this tunnel went, if it traveled to the world of spirits itself. Roldan had not bothered educating her much on fae religion, though she'd read a few books on the subject. These creatures were considered to be the link between the physical and metaphysical words -the source of their magic. She reached out and laid a hand against the bark. What did it mean when a Druid left? That seemed important, and she felt very sad all of the sudden.
"So this...is just a shell then?" she asked. Jareth observed her curiously. She was regarding the tree with a deep sense of empathy and for a moment this worried him. She was frowning, her brow disconcerted.
"Yes."
"Why did it leave?" she asked further. Jareth stepped to her side and shrugged.
"I don't know." -Which was a lie. Druids were attracted to epicenters of strong magic. At one time, that was The Goblin Kingdom -when Liana was in her prime and Nature well-balanced. However...as time passed, as his predecessors failed time and again to carry out their duty, the magic of his land waned and destabilized. The Druids were leaving, chasing after waves of magic that coursed irregularly across the land. The site of this corpse only reminded him that he was equally, if not more, incapable of the task as his forefathers had been. That was why he wanted Liana. That was why he'd done all of this. It wasn't for power...it was for peace.
He watched as Sarah's frown deepened and her fingers curled against the bark. Her eyes lowered and she tilted her head just slightly.
"Do you feel that?" she asked and he scowled.
"What?"
"That hum," she said, and turned to look him square in the eye. Jareth didn't respond right away, not knowing what the hell she was talking about. And then it clicked. He stepped back and hoped she would follow.
"This is a holy place," he said, offering her a hand which she took as he guided her away. "A place of power, if you will. That's probably what you're feeling." -Which was not a lie. He'd forgotten how she might react to places such as this, places that were nearly a part of her. This Druid was gone however, and so he was not concerned over her proximity or her physical contact with its husk. It was merely a ghost she was sensing, a vacancy that her heart of hearts was yearning to fill.
In that sense he admired her just then, regarded her as something sacred to be worshiped, his Almother. For a very brief moment he wondered if it would really be so bad...If perhaps Davion was right in that preparing her for the role rather than shielding her from it was the better choice. He was starting to believe Liana would never become his. Fate had worked against him for far too long. And he was sincere when he'd proclaimed he wanted Sarah more. Sarah was strong...she was human, but she was strong.
"I see," she said, stealing a peak at him as she stepped over the snow and wondered why he looked so solemn all the sudden. They stood a short ways from the tree now and she stopped to look up at him. "Thank you for taking me here. It's nice." Jareth looked down at her and smirked.
"Oh, this isn't what I wanted to show you."
Jareth took her hand again and led them around the tree, back into the forest. Sarah's brow furrowed but she said nothing, curious to where he was leading her next. They left the tree behind them and Sarah noted what might be a path overtaken by snow. There were bushes and small trees lining the way, which opened up into another small clearing.
She saw a bench. Just one stone bench. It too was covered in snow. Jareth escorted her to it and her eyes widened when she saw a little pond placed directly beyond it.
Jareth was quiet and brought them to stand between the bench and the pond. He was looking down, into the water, and so Sarah did as well. She was confused with what she saw.
It was a circular pond, no more than 5 feet in diameter, and it was in no way frozen over. In fact, it was steaming. Sarah's eyes narrowed on it as she saw little bubbles simmering to its surface and then widened when the orange and white gleam of fish suddenly fluttered in and out of sight. She bent forward a little, bringing her face closer to the water.
They looked like koi. Long, elegant looking koi that had wide fins and glittering scales. They were red, orange, and white, some solid and some spotted. And they had many long whiskers that wriggled as they moved. She straightened up at the sound of Jareth brushing off the snow on the bench behind them.
"I don't understand...what is this?" she asked, and glanced back to watch him sit himself languidly on the bench. His cape billowed around him, the wide brim of his fur collar making him look delectably cozy. She wanted to crawl into his lap.
"It's a pond," he said, dryly. Sarah pursed her lips and joined him on the bench.
"Why is it steaming?" she clarified. Jareth stared down at the pond with a look of detachment.
"It's the fish," he answered. Sarah turned her gaze away from him and back to the creatures in question.
"What kind of fish are they? They look like koi." Jareth leaned forward in his seat, shuffling his cloak as he made himself more comfortable, and rested his forearms on his thighs.
"That's because they are. Frost Koi, from the Darowen region in the Parlnese mountains." Sarah gave him a rather perplexed look.
"I didn't know koi existed in this world too," she said. Jareth smiled.
"There are many things that exist in this world that you are unaware of." He was smiling wryly but she chose not to play into his cryptic tone. Instead she scooted a little closer to him and savored the feeling of their shoulders touching.
"How can they survive in this climate?" she asked.
"They emit a great deal of body heat. When in ideal numbers, in an ideal sized pool, they can effectively regulate the temperature of the water and prevent their home from freezing over," he explained, which Sarah found to be, quite plainly, amazing. She stared down at them again, watching the way they moved in figure eights around the pond.
"That's amazing," she said, having no better response. Jareth tilted his head and sat back again, slouching a little as he did so.
"Yes...they are fickle though. If the water gets too hot they will cook themselves, adversely if the water is too cold they will freeze. They thrive in environments such as this, though they require close monitoring."
"You seem to know an awful lot about this," she remarked, eyeing him as he shrugged dismissively.
"They were my mother's favorite," he said, which caught her off guard. He wasn't looking at her and gestured towards the pond with a nod. "These here, or rather, their ancestors, belonged to her." He spoke casually enough, but Sarah was frowning. She knew he did not like to talk about his parents, which had her wondering why he'd brought her here in the first place. She glanced away and folded her hands in her lap.
"Oh…" was all she said. They were quiet for a moment, as Sarah wondered what to say next. She was surprised when Jareth continued speaking.
"This place…" he started and trailed off as his eyes glanced around. "...was always a haven for her, when things with my father became particularly unbearable." Sarah spied him discreetly, observing the way he folded his arms as he spoke. She wondered if he was forcing himself to reveal this to her. For once, her curiosity held the lesser sway and she instead wanted to tell him that was unnecessary. She did not say anything however. She only listened and waited patiently for him to continue. "She used to abscond with us when we were children. Back then the delusion seemed...nice." His tone was becoming more and more distant and she could tell by the look in his eye that he was getting lost in a memory. She frowned further and laced her arm with his.
"You and Davion, you mean?" she asked. Jareth nodded.
"Eventually though...our father caught on. He forbade her from removing his sons from the Capital."
"What?" Jareth turned to look at her then and she was upset by the sight of a cynical smile on his face.
"She came alone after that. Left us behind to incur the brunt of his wrath." Sarah's mouth hung open and she felt a near overwhelming urge to reach out to him. There was a ghost in his eyes, something of pain that she did not see very often. He was still smiling, in spite of himself, but it was an expression that did the opposite of comfort her. He leaned in towards her a little and cocked a brow. "That's why I do not like coming here," he informed her. Sarah bit her lip before closing her mouth.
"Jareth I -I'm sorry," she struggled to say. He looked at her oddly and cracked another grin.
"Why?" he asked. Sarah just stared at him. His tone and his look made it apparent he did not understand why she would possibly be feeling sympathy for him. Davion's words came back to her, his tales of Jareth martyring himself for the sake of his younger brother, and she now also remembered Jareth himself mentioning he used to do the same for his mother. After seeing the damage done to Davion, she could not imagine the kind of horror Jareth had endured. And their mother...their mother just abandoned them? Left them alone, as children, with that kind of monster?
"Because I did not know that coming here would bother you like that. I thought you were just annoyed with Davion. If I had known, I wouldn't have been so pushy about it," she said, though he only gave her another cool look.
"I brought you here because it was what you wanted. It's as simple as that."
She wanted to rebut him but didn't. He'd gone out of his way for her and she knew she needed to just accept the gesture as it was intended rather than pity him for it. She wondered at what point she came to know him so well, when it'd become so easy for her to dissect his mannerisms.
She looked back to the fish, back to this deeply personal place and all the intimacy that they now shared because of it. She wondered if he'd ever brought anyone else here. Wondered if anyone else even knew about it.
"Who tends the fish?" she asked, deflecting. Jareth took a breath and exhaled slowly.
"Davion."
"Really?"
Jareth turned back to her and regarded her profile as she stared at the water. Her nose and her cheeks were a bright pink and her skin had paled. She looked far too beautiful in the snow. It would be best for him to look away.
"He has always been the sentimental one in the family," he said, with only a hint of derision. "He...does not regard this place as I do. When he left the Capital, he chose to come here as a way of honoring our mother. He cares for this place by his own hands. In the warmer season, he even toils the garden and trims the foliage," he said, pointing around the treeline where Sarah assumed flowers might grow. She frowned again and shook her head.
"I can't picture Davion doing that," she said. Jareth nodded in agreement.
"Yes...it is quite undignifying."
"I'm still a little worried about him," she said, fiddling with her hands in her lap. Jareth glanced over at her. "I'm not afraid of him or anything but...I kind of want to go home. At the same time I feel like doing so now would be like admitting defeat."
Jareth smiled at her, truly smiled. That was the second time she'd referred to the castle as her home, to this place as her home. She'd said it naturally, without reservation, and it brought him an unwarranted amount of joy. And then there was the second part of her sentence, the part that reminded him very much of himself.
"I agree," he said, the slight amusement in his tone earning her stare. She looked over and her lips pursed in a reluctant smile as she realized he was only partially picking on her. They were meant to stay another night, maybe two. Sarah wasn't sure what to do with herself for that length of time. It felt awkward more than anything else, but that was because she was focusing on Davion. Right now felt peaceful. It felt right. She was with Jareth and it was easy. Maybe the weekend hadn't been completely ruined afterall.
"So I guess we're staying then." And she sounded neither happy nor grumpy about it. One thing they could always agree on was they were both deeply competitive individuals. For once, it seemed they could actually work as a team. The thought amused her, enough so that a wry smile was curling her lips.
It was quiet for a few moments, Sarah pleasantly lost in thought and completely unaware of Jareth's stare on her. There was a thought still nagging at him, one that he realized would not leave until he voiced it. He did not want to. He wanted to keep that look of blissful ignorance on her face for as long as possible. But, as his eyes lowered over her, over how delicate, and formidable, and truly precious she was, he found he really had no other choice…
"Sarah…" he said, softly pegging her attention. She looked over to find him scowling at the space between them.
"Hm?"
"How would you like...to learn about magic?"
Sarah's eyes widened and she turned to face him fully.
"What? I can do that?" she asked, sounding much more excited than she'd meant to. Jareth looked bothered by the offer, which was curious in and of itself.
"In theory, at least," he clarified. Sarah's brow furrowed.
"Why would you offer me that?" she asked. He shrugged, and glanced away to conceal the tick that moved through his jaw.
"Despite my best efforts, it seems you have a very inconvenient habit of getting into trouble where magic is concerned. It would sate my peace of mind to give you some form of education on the matter, so you might better protect yourself in future," he explained, which made sense to her. She pursed her lips and looked down as she thought.
"Okay...that sounds good. How did Davion even get into my dream anyway? I thought you had like, a million wards on me?" she asked, never before bothering to think what that actually entailed. She saw the flash of a smirk move across his face but it never reached his eyes.
"I do. My brother is simply….very persistent. He knows how to chip away at even the best defenses," he said and looked down as he took hold of her hand. "On that note, I'm going to need to borrow your ring," he added.
"What for?"
"I'm going to use it...as a conduit for another charm. Like the one I made of your necklace." Sarah blinked and her hand instinctively rose to her chest, to the pendent she now always wore at his behest.
"Oh?"
"Yes. Physical amulets are more powerful and stable than metaphysical enchantments. They simply take a great deal more effort and time to make," he explained. His thumb brushed over her knuckles as he spoke. "I had hoped you would be well enough protected without such accessories but…"
"No, I get it," she interrupted, covering his hand with hers. She appreciated he was being so informative on this. It was a breath of fresh air. It was amazing how drastically he'd changed after their wedding, after her last epic freakout that nearly tore them both to shreds. Was this affinity what she had been holding out for? The him that she knew, even back then, was waiting beneath all the anger, and arrogance, and charm? -the most appropriate veneer. "I appreciate it, actually. Will Roldan be teaching me about magic?"
"No. Roldan has very little knowledge on the subject."
"Ah, right," she said, remembering that magical knowledge was limited by class. "So, you're going to teach me then?" And there was a hopeful little twinkle in her eye as she asked. Jareth peered over and his smile curled on one side.
"Yes. I am, plainly, the only one capable." -And she laughed impulsively. It was soft, but still she raised a hand to her face to conceal it. Jareth's smile curled a little further. What an adorable reaction.
"Of that I have no doubt," she said, and gave in to finally lay herself against him. Her head rested on his shoulder and her arms wrapped around one of his.
They were quiet after that, pleasantly so. They both watched the bubbles that floated to the surface of the pond, their eyes absent on the wisps of orange and white. After a while, she sat up again. She looked at Jareth but he was too well reposed to look back. She used the moment to observe him, to digest all the things she'd learned. Davion had said he was lonely, that he hid it behind a facade of charm. And Mariella accused Davion of doing the same. She thought, staring at him now, that was absolutely true.
She'd always sensed a sadness about him that felt out of place, like a cold spot in a room that never warmed. It was something that no one else seemed to notice. Although, apparently, Davion knew of it too. She pondered the connections between the lot of them, and was saddened by the lack of awareness going on.
Jareth's eyes were vacant, his expression relaxed, and yet there was a veil of tension about his brow, an integral contention that she always pondered and worried over. Davion said that Jareth felt he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, and she agreed. She just...didn't know why. She thought back over her knowledge of the abuse he suffered, of the way it must have changed him, and curbed the relationships he formed there-after. He said he loved her because she fought him, because she looked him in the eye when no-one else would. It was a rare thing to be seen, Davion said. It was in that very moment that she truly appreciated the meaning of those words.
She stared at him and saw him in all of his colors, all his shadows. She saw his darkness, and his weakness, his unnamed strife. But beneath it, she saw a light that could not be smothered, a love to give that had no choice but to endure. Something that shone every time he smiled at her.
She really did love him. It wasn't easy, and it was by no means unconditional, but it was true. Despite all his wrong doings, she no longer wanted to go home. Despite all the horrible things he'd put her through, she did not want him to feel alone. Perhaps it was selfish, but she wanted the martyr. She wanted the man, who moved the stars for no-one, to move them for her, to place the moon itself within her heart.
Recalling the lyrics to his song for her made her heart flutter. She was getting carried away now...She looked away from him and smiled.
"You know...we haven't done it in the snow," she said, and her eyes peered up at him coyly. "It's always summer in the Capital. I can't imagine we'll find ourselves in a place like this very often...I know it might not be particularly enjoyable but...still seems a bit of a waste." The glimmer in her eye turned suggestive and he laughed. He was surely caught off guard but he laughed, and it was genuine, and rich, and he turned to look at her with a wide, boyish smile on his face.
He brought that smile close to hers as he leaned in and suddenly there was an air of wickedness to it.
"Run," he said.
Sarah blinked.
"What?"
Jareth's eyes, darkening deliciously, remained unblinking as they fell down her front and rose back up again.
"Run."
Sarah sat back, the dangerous purr that had taken over his voice rendering his intention loud and clear. She bit her lip in a fleeting moment of panic, then jumped to her feet, and ran.
She ran into the woods, without any clue as to where she was going. She ran with a smile on her face, with the hope that she would be tackled to the ground at any moment.
She wasn't sure how far she'd gotten, but it became clear Jareth had no intention of catching her just yet, so she stopped. She turned all around and was curious, borderline-worried, when she saw she was alone.
She'd ran so far she could no longer see the clearing she'd come from. At least she had her footprints to lead her back…
"Um...Jareth?" she asked the wind, still turning around in all directions. She heard a rustle then, from a nearby tree, and looked up to the lowest branch.
There was an owl perched above her head. She took a few steps back and regarded it, entertaining the idea that it might actually be what it appeared. It was white and gold, and much too familiar-looking. Nope. The owl turned its head as it watched her, and made a faint cooing sound. Sarah narrowed her eyes on it and knelt down to pack some snow.
When she straightened, she wound her arm back and threw the ball directly at the poor bird. She hit her mark head on, nearly sending the creature flying off the branch in the process. She gasped and darted her hands to her face on reflex. She hadn't actually expected to hit him. What if it really was just a bird?
She staggered back, her eyes wide and her smile reluctant as she watched the owl shudder and shake the snow from its feathers. It turned and looked at her, then she shrieked when it suddenly launched from its perch and dove straight at her.
Sarah turned away and braced herself as she awaited the inevitable, knowing she did not have enough time to evade it by running. However, again, nothing came. She paused, still crouched defensively, and then slowly lowered her arms from her face. She stood straight and looked all around again. The owl was gone.
She turned around one last time and gasped as the startling sight of Jareth nearly knocked the wind clear out of her.
"Now that wasn't very nice," he chided playfully. He was standing much too close to her, and she found her arm raising between them instinctively. She took a step back. He took a step forward.
"What can I say? I'm not into bestiality," she said, with an unapologetic shrug. Jareth's smile curled, his teeth looking just a little too sharp. She noticed then that there was snow in his hair and on his shoulders. She tried not to giggle.
Jareth encroached until he could encroach no further and her back hit the trunk of a tree. She flinched in surprise, but her eyes widened with dread at the realization that she'd been caged. Dread? No, not dread.
"Noted," Jareth said, his eyes focused and his intent was clear as he reached up for the sides of her face with both hands and kissed her.
Her hands went to his wrists as she stumbled back into the tree. He was forceful, paying her no consideration as his tongue pushed open her jaw and found her own. She was panting already, left breathless by his ardency.
He pulled away and she thought it was to let her catch her breath. She was wrong. In a quick movement, he reached for the button at her throat and unfastened it, allowing her cloak to fall heavily to the ground. She was about to speak out when he then took hold of her wrists and spun her around to face the tree. He leaned into her, pressed his chest against her back, and placed her hands on the two main limbs where the trunk diverged. He did not say anything. He did not need to. Sarah kept her hands firmly in place and waited in anticipation.
He crouched down and took hold of the hem of her dress, bringing it with him, and bunched it at her hips. The cold air found her legs but it was bearable. She jittered a little in her spot as her back bowed low for him.
His hands were on her hips, pulling her taut, and he gandered at the roundness of her ass from such an angle. Then he reached up and pulled down her leggings and her underwear to the base of her thighs. Sarah found her knees pressing together. God she was turned on, the fact that her ass was already freezing did not matter in the slightest. She heard him pull off one of his gloves and then two of his fingers were inside of her.
Sarah moaned and inched closer to the tree. She gripped its bark tightly and then pressed back against his hand. She heard him murmur low in the back of his throat, and she knew it was in reaction to how wet she already was. His fingers moved in and out of her easily, so he added a third. She gasped with pleasure and blinked rapidly as she internally begged for more. His other hand massaged her ass and moved around to grip her hip. He pulled her back towards him, and she ground against his erection.
"Jareth-" she pleaded, softly. She was nervous about how they would move on from this Davion situation, which was partially why she wanted this so, so badly. The idea of Jareth not wanting her, for any reason, had always been unacceptable to her. While there were times when she hated it, if she was going to be his sole focus, then she was going to be his sole focus. She had turned out to be just as possessive as him, which made for a dangerous, licentious combination.
Her eyes opened and focused on the nothingness ahead, the condensation of her breath rising to muddle her view as she panted a little harder.
She hadn't heard him untie his pants. Hadn't heard him reposition his feet to enter her at the perfect angle. However, she moaned loudly when his hand was immediately replaced by his hot and throbbing cock.
He pushed into her and she instinctively pressed herself against the tree. With a bit of a growl, he took hold of her hips and jerked her back, holding her ass up as he thrust in her again. She shrieked, and clawed her fingers at the bark of the tree as her eyes screwed shut. Jareth cast his head back and moaned, pulling her onto each thrust until he could delve no further. He set a hard rhythm, fast, and hooked his hips in that special way of his that had her howling his name.
He leaned over her and reached for her hair, holding it taut and bracing her body as he fucked her as deeply as possible. Sarah's moans turned low, her breathing heavy as she tried desperately to keep her hands on the tree. He reached around and pressed two of his fingers against her clit, and she trembled. Her toes were curling in her boots, and she rose higher on one foot to find a more accommodating angle.
It wasn't long before she came, loudly, unabashedly, in the middle of the woods. Jareth fucked her with long hard thrusts, staring down at her ass as he savored every one of her quivers and moans. He could feel her tightening around him, jerking him for release. He hissed through a clenched jaw and screwed his eyes shut as he followed her, coming deep within her as he pushed to the hilt. Sarah squealed from the quick jab of pain, but still pushed back against him. His hand was still in her hair, the other holding up her hip, and he breathed roughly at her back. She was still aroused, still ready to keep going, when he pulled away from her. His hand drifted lifelessly from her hair and she turned back to face him with fervor in her eyes.
Their eyes locked and he was panting, a sated smile stretching his face.
"You're getting a bit rosy down here. Don't want you getting frostbite," he said, and she realized he meant her ass. She grinned in spite of herself and watched as he straightened himself up -like it never happened. Although...it was hard to miss his lingering erection.
He reached for her thighs and pulled up her pants, smoothing out the material as he draped the skirt of her dress back over her rear. Sarah straightened and turned around to face him. They were both still breathing heavily, and both still had a smile on their faces.
"Worth it," she said, jokingly.
Jareth's eyes flickered over her and, as his heart began to settle, he found it pounding for a different reason entirely. He looked back to her face, back to the brightness of her eyes and the genuine delight in her smile and he...he felt himself humbling greatly. He stepped towards her, becoming much more serious, though she failed to realize it.
He stood very close and took hold of the side of her face. He wanted to kiss her but he didn't. He just couldn't stop looking. She placed her hands on his chest and renewed her smile. Postcoital bliss was not always certain with them, but Jareth recognized that, for him, this moment was something more.
She had given him something. She'd given him a memory of this place that was not rooted in bitterness and disdain. She'd given him a reason to think of this place as something more than a tomb. She cared that he suffered. She cared and she showed him compassion he did not deserve. He adored her in that moment. He adored her more passionately than ever before.
He pressed his forehead against hers and sighed. His free hand wrapped around her back and clung hopelessly. Sarah sensed a change go through him, but not the proper degree. She enjoyed his tenderness nonetheless, and closed her eyes as she savored his embrace. She felt happy. Without restrictions.
She felt his thumb twitch against her cheek and became more aware that something heady was on his mind. He was still holding their foreheads together, though she did not pull away.
"Thank you," he said, and his eyes closed in repose. Sarah's smile grew and her fingers curled against his chest. She felt many things for Jareth; not all of them were good, nor easy to comprehend, but right now she was glad. She was glad because she knew, in that lingering moment, that he was feeling all of those things too. That they were truly, finally, together.
