"Sire, we have a situation."
"When do we not?" Jareth said with a sigh. He already felt a migraine coming on after that disastrous luncheon. "What is the issue?"
"Master Tobias has gone missing."
Fear rolled down his spine. "He can't have gotten far," he said, his voice clipped. "Let's move."
The first and most obvious place to search was the Labyrinth. Searching every nook, the men rejoined each other every hundred feet or so, but no youngster made himself known to them. "Tobias," Jareth sang as he peered under benches in the main gardens, in the decorative sculptures of dwarves rolling pottery along the ground. "Toby, I have a present for you. Come out, now!"
Bromwell joined him at the next garden. "No luck, sire," he said, shaking his head. "All clear on that one."
Desperate times called for desperate measures. Jareth cleared his throat, summoning power to magnify his vocal chords. "Tobias Williams," he intoned; sound waves rumbled through the flagstones beneath their feet. "My captain of the guard has a sword. Now might be your only chance to practice warrior moves before your parents catch you. You wouldn't want to miss this opportunity, would you?"
Before Bromwell could complete his first protestation, a ball of energy - caked in drying mud and bristling with snapped twigs and leaves - barreled out of the hedge bush beside them. "Sword?" he repeated exuberantly. "Yes, please!"
In the hedge hole behind him, a Brownie spluttered obscenities. Toby yelled, "Shut up. Aardvark and flibberty-gibbit your second cousin. Twice removed!"
Though the argument degenerated and Toby initiated the age-old tactic of mimicking the phrases back at the Brownie, it did little to dampen Jareth's relief. Visions of his murderous brother having seized upon the young boy, as he had his future wife…
"Jareth," Toby whined. "Can you make him go away?"
"Momentarily, yes," the high king drawled. "They keep coming back, no matter the expertness of the toss."
"You can toss them?"
"Look," Bromwell interjected desperately. "See this dagger? It's pointy. A clever young human boy like you likes pointy things, yes?"
Toby favored him with a condescending glower. "I am familiar with the art of swordplay, sirrah." He took the weapon in his hands, balanced it on a finger, and sneered. "This appears to be…. Balanced okay. A bit short, though. Jareth said 'sword.' Is this really your Secret Service sword, or are all of your things just kinda….shorter than they're supposed to be?"
Jareth disguised his laugh with a cough as Bromwell actually flushed. "If you've already mastered fine arts, might you be interested in a bit of ….magic?"
"Under no circumstances."
"Cailleach, you insufferable woman, I am at my wit's end," Jareth hissed.
"Your hair has not yet suffered the scourge of gravity. I see no great calamity."
"Sarah," he ground out while keeping his tone pleasant, "is upset. It is my duty to calm her. Master Toby must be entertained."
"Cool!" the boy exclaimed. "What does this - oops. Um, lady? Someone burned a hole in your floor."
Cailleach closed her eyes, took in a deep breath that expanded her slight bosom to full breadth, and exhaled deliberately. "I," she began, "am not a glorified nursemaid. I actually have work to do. If I capitulate to this … role, I will be likewise resigned to goblin-proofing every item for when you inevitably peeve your lady love and your minions rise to her summons of fury."
"Is it supposed to glow?"
They both whirled around. Toby was standing in a cascade of potion ingredients, his grubby hands proffered to display a plant that was swaying and - indeed - glowing faintly around the edges. Already, the petals were unfurling in delight.
The dark-haired fae turned on him. "You didn't!"
"He was here for nearly thirteen hours! What was I meant to do?"
"Honestly, you have no self control," she hissed. "You and Hades both! They can go hungry for a bit, you know. They won't perish of a grumbling stomach."
The golden-haired man crossed his arms. "What's done is done."
"Yes, it certainly has been, hasn't it?" she snapped. "And now the boy shows an aptitude for it. I suggest you leave before you foul it up further."
The king found himself being steered towards the door. "So you'll do it?" he asked, just to clarify. "Just for a few hours, I'm certain."
"Who else is going to manage the wunderkind?" she said acridly. "You? Ha! You've bungled enough." Through the door slammed shut before his eyes, he heard her say, "You have a ...passing... talent for growth. How are you with fire?"
"Whaddya mean?"
A moment of silence.
Boom.
"Cool!" Toby shrieked. "Teach me, teach me!"
"Only under the solemn vow that you will not touch anything without my express - nay, explicit - permission!"
"I vow, I vow. How did you do that? Did you pull -"
"Not yet, you imbecile!"
Convinced that Toby was well on his way to idolizing his friend, Jareth set out in search of his love.
Sarah threw open the doors to her rarely-utilized personal room, startling the red-haired fae inside. "Well, that was a monumental disaster!" she announced.
Aine picked up the black bodice she'd dropped when the doors had rebounded off the wall. "Is... everything alright, Sarah?" she asked.
"Not really," Sarah grumbled in response. "Just regretting saving my family." She slapped a hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean that. Forget I said that. I just…. Parents, you know?"
"I… yes, Sarah," Aine murmured. "As you say."
Sarah plopped down on her bed with a huff and stared at the ceiling. "Have you seen Toby? Did Jareth find him? He can't be running around the castle without supervision. He'd give the entire staff so much trouble trying to keep up with him, they'd be begging to have the goblins back."
Aine sat down beside Sarah and started to unbraid her hair, stroking her fingers through the silky strands as she spoke; the human felt the tension-headache from the Disaster Luncheon begin to melt away and slouched backwards reflexively. "I saw His Majesty escorting Tobias to Aintín Cailleach's laboratory," the handmaid said with a chuckle. "I shall look forward to hearing those stories later."
Sarah grinned. "Consider my fears allayed. If there's one person around here who can keep him from opening a portal to Hell in the castle besides his big sister, it's her."
"I'm not certain of that," Aine said blandly. "Before you returned to the Underground, His Majesty seemed to have accomplished that feat on a regular occasion. Goblins defenestrated themselves as a preferred method of exit."
There was a knock at the door, and Sarah flung herself onto her back with an arm over her face. "Unless you're one of my parents, come in," she bellowed. Part of her was glad that her parents weren't allowed to be there. She did wish Toby could be there, but there were some things she wouldn't be able to change until after she was crowned. Regardless, she would see them for the feasts after. Perhaps, when surrounded by every possible creature they could imagine and more to boot, they'd manage to keep their opinions to themselves.
Lavena slipped inside, a bottle of something in her hands and three glasses.
"I imagine a good stiff beverage might be welcome after that," she said, holding the bottle up for them to see and swishing the green liquid inside. Sarah sat up, her eyebrow arched. "Gods, you look just like him when you do that. Stop," the delicate fae woman ordered.
"It is rather uncanny, isn't it?" Aine asked with a solemn nod.
Sarah couldn't keep the petulant note out of her voice. "Shouldn't we go back to the library? I'm sure there's something else we need to practice."
"Tone, Lady Sarah," Lavena sang as she lined the three wine glasses neatly on the mahogany sideboard. "And no, not this evening. This is the eve of your coronation. Your parents - with respect - have behaved horribly and without decorum. Your future brother-in-law is trying to dethrone and murder your betrothed. And to put the final bead on the strand, I believe I saw young Master Tobias running down a hall with a rather ostentatious headdress. I can't imagine where he might have acquired it," she added guilelessly, though her eyes flashed in the afternoon sunlight. "Especially since I'm fairly sure it's the ceremonial headdress of the Palace Healer."
"Fucking hell. That's heavy," Sarah said after a pause. To her surprise, the admonishment for her language from either woman never came.
"Thus, the drinking," Lavena said grandly, handing out full glasses of elven liquor. "Aine, would you care to join us?"
With the surprise almost repressed in her expression, Aine nodded. "Thank you, milady."
"Please," the aristocratic fae demurred. "It has been a collaborative effort, transforming this…" she eyed Sarah with the fondness usually reserved for an adorably clumsy child. "...human into a queen worthy of reverence."
"I'm right here!" Sarah complained. Nevertheless, she took the glass offered to her and raised it to her lips.
She reminded herself to go slowly. Bromwell had once described the viridian liquid as being like a drunk woman encountered in a tavern's honeycomb firelight: sweet, deceptively powerful, and packing a terrific punch the next morning. She snorted at the memory as the sweetness burned down her throat.
"What's funny?" Aine said after she flinched at her first swallow. She eyed the glass consideringly, took another sip, and nodded decisively.
"All of this," Sarah answered, shaking her head. "All of this is so overwhelming, and yet, it's happening. I remember every detail since I got here, but suddenly, it feels…. I'll be crowned as queen-elect tomorrow. When Jareth showed up in my life again, my exact words were 'until we find out what's chasing me,' and then he'd said 'until I was safe,' and now I'm here and …" Throwing caution to the wind, she downed her drink in three gulps.
"Try not to do that tomorrow, please," Lavena murmured with a quick roll of her eyes.
"I'll try," she muttered. Warmth was suffusing through her limbs; suddenly, the Disaster Lunch seemed hours ago.
"It'll be a reflection on me too if you behave that way, so try hard," Aine said, taking a large sip as well. "Earnon would likely expire as well, and I'm not sure which of us he'd be more upset with."
"Earnon probably needs to remove His Majesty's scepter from his rear," Lavena murmured over the rim of her glass. There was a beat before all three of them dissolved into laughter. Lavena swished the bottle questioningly and tipped it obligingly when the other women held out their goblets for her.
The time passed without distinction until there was another knock at the chamber door. When the sun had set nearly an hour ago, Aine had appeared to trip over her own shadow when she had hastened to light the lamps in the room. Should the fae woman really have been handling fire given their state of….slight inebriation? Moderate, Sarah corrected herself now. "Come in," she called out, taking care to enunciate her vowels.
Earnon's head peered around the door frame, his politely blank face turning alarmed when he took in the spectacle of them. Lavena was sprawled decadently across Sarah's settee with a leg artlessly thrown over the back, exposing a vast expanse of porcelain skin, the liquor bottle dangling from her fingers inches above the floor. Sarah herself was sitting cross-legged on her bed and slumping against the headboard, running her fingers through Aine's hair, her maid's head cradled in Sarah's lap.
Glassy emerald eyes met Earnon's. "My lady?" he asked uncertainly.
"When the occasion calls for it. My friend's romantic significant other?" she returned. Three of them dissolved into giggles.
"What is going on here?" he demanded. He stepped fully into the room. "Are you three drunk?!"
"Very astute," Sarah nodded sagely. "I knight you Sir Know-It-All," she said grandly.
"You cannot be drunk! Your coronation is in the morning! All decorum must be followed to the letter! You'll still be shaking off the effects of that wine! I hope it's wine," he said severely. "It doesn't smell like it is. Gods, it stinks like a pub in here. Really, I can't-"
"Oh, get the scepter out of your ass, Earnon," Sarah said, narrowing her eyes - partially to intimidate, partly to condense the two male fae back into singular personhood. "I'll do all my curtsies and whatever tomorrow. I'll follow all the rules and pretend to be someone else and …" she trailed off, waving her free hand in the air in dismissal.
Lavena sat up, taking a moment to flick her silver-blonde hair over her shoulder. The nonchalant illusion was somewhat marred when she almost toppled off the couch. "Do not misrepresent me. I never said you had to be someone else," she said, pointing with one manicured finger and trying to uncross her pale blue eyes. "You need to be you, just… ruthless." She nodded as if she had said the most profound thing in the world. "Ruthless and sharp-taloned. Like a peacock."
"No, no, no," Aine said, rolling onto her back. "You be exactly how you are, just…" Aine tried to arch one eyebrow, and when she failed to reach a satisfactory height, she propped it up higher with her right hand, and with the other, she pinched the skirt above her hips to form an obscene tent. "Tra la la," she intoned deeply.
Lavena actually snorted as she took another swallow from the bottle and tossed it - with curious accuracy - to Aine, who caught it neatly out of the air with her eyebrow-hand.
"This is a disaster!" Earnon groaned, dragging his own hands down his face. "Have you all taken leave of your senses?"
"Absolutely," Aine said. "It's fine. Everything is fine."
"Totally," Sarah agreed.
"Queen!" Earnon was repeating weakly, his face ashen. "You are going to be Queen! There is - I cannot believe - how could you let this happen?" he asked, looking to Aine, eyes wide. "How could you participate in sabotaging tomorrow's ritual? You know better."
"Now wait a moment!" Lavena exclaimed, rising unsteadily to her feet. "Don't speak to her in that fashion. She is perfectly well within her rights to get as drunk as possible. As is Sarah. As am I. She can be whomever she wants. And you and no one else can tell her otherwise." She sniffed. "She will be perfect tomorrow."
"Perfect? She is soused!"
"Listen to me well, you scandalized excuse for a Hufflemuff!"
"Hufflepuff," Sarah interjected. "Puff, like a bunny. And really, he's more of a Ravenclaw."
"Details," Lavena snapped, flicking her fingers dismissively.
"If I have to know the difference between an earl and a lord, you can damn well learn my own culture and learn how to categorize things and people properly. A true Slytherin would care about finesse! Care about finesse!" she commanded. "Don't disappoint me!"
"Irrelevant," the fae noblewoman barked. "Stop interrupting when I'm trying to defend you. Aine, silence the insurrection."
Aine slapped her hand over Sarah's mouth as she took another swallow from the bottle.
"You, Earnon," Lavena announced, "play according to the rule book. This is a delicately mechanized society where each cog must have the precise angle and function. You know how to be part of that machine so that it ticks smoothly along."
"Thank you!"
"I wasn't finished," she said severely. "The problem is that we must break the machine in order to force this - this -" she gestured at Sarah, "- foreign, rough-hewn, brash object into their midst!"
"Still here!"
"Aine, it is still speaking."
"The bottle is empty," the maid retorted. "I'm on stroke."
"Strike," Sarah sighed. "You're on strike, Aine."
"Go get another bottle," the red-haired woman ordered dreamily.
"That requires effort. And me moving."
"Oh. Never mind."
"Wait, can I make wine? With my sparkle powers?"
"Sparkle powers," Aine snickered.
"Ladies, please!" Lavena said. "I'm trying to make a point. Earnon, my point is that we must redefine the machine in order to make a place for Sarah's new vision. A bit of rule breaking is required."
"Rules are not made to be broken. Rules are rules because they are rules!"
Aine pushed off Sarah's lap. "And this is why," she declared drunkenly, "you are a man, not a woman." For a moment, the two fae women met each other's eyes squarely. The noblewoman smiled and nodded in approval. The maid continued, "Which is why it is our job to teach her how to break the rules. Fashionably."
"With enough cunning that it's socially acceptable," Lavena added. "Quite so… Madam Aine. And, good sir Earnon," she concluded scathingly, "the Lady Sarah doesn't need your help to be a contrarian. She does just fine on her own."
"Jareth is going to kill me," Earnon muttered. "Lady Sarah, I must fulfill my contractual obligations and tell you that His Majesty is looking for you. He awaits your presence in the throne room," he said, turning on his heel and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him to the sound of giggles.
Sarah stumbled into the throne room, feeling her way along the wall.
"I am here," she sang. "I am drunk, and your ex is half naked and I'm okay with that!"
Jareth sat up in his throne. "I- come again, Precious?"
"If you're offering," she said cheekily. "First you have to do it once though."
"They've doused you," the fae king groaned. "Lavena gave you the green fairy, didn't she?"
"I am a bit soggy, yes," she agreed. "And it was something green. That's okay. I'm relaxed now. Look!" She splayed her legs, puffed out her chest, and conjured a somewhat lopsided oval crystal. "My kingdom for a horse!"
"That's - that's not even -" He decided to go for the direct approach. "Come here."
Sarah tripped on her way to him and fell to her knees. "Oops," she said with a giggle.
Jareth eyed her, trying to decide whether her cheek on his thigh was a boon or liability to his kingly jewels. "Well done. I see our balance has become refined with time."
"You," she accused, "have no right to judge. None! You baited my father. You've upended my life. And I am going to have a crashing headache. I haven't even had dinner. So it's gonna be a migraine."
"I can fix that, Precious," he replied evenly, trying to ignore the pulse of his body as her gaze focused on his pants. Well, it might have been his pants: her cross-eyed expression might have also been aimed at his belly, which was simply too disconcerting a thought to entertain. He didn't think that he'd been the catalyst for a crime worthy of disembowelment. "Dinner in our chambers?"
"Pizza?" she said hopefully.
"There will be no pineapple," Jareth warned.
Sarah thought for a moment then shrugged a shoulder. "I can accept a compromise. It's what my life has become."
Before she could sink into lugubriousness, the king whirled them away into their quarters. As he plied her with water and pizza, she began to regain a little focus. When her foot began to tap incessantly at the table leg, he deemed her sufficiently recovered to enjoy a chilled peach cider to stave off her nerves.
"Why?" she asked suddenly.
"Why what, my love?"
"Why do you have a town full of goblins? That's the one thing I don't get. You obviously don't like them."
"Goblins have come with the throne, Precious. Have done for generations."
The black-haired woman nodded seriously. "Oh. They're rowdy little toddler shits for a noble cause?"
Jareth smiled wanly. "Indeed. They are the thorn in the crown to remind High Kings that no rule is absolute and not to get too comfortable."
The woman absently shoved her pants off and threw them in the corner of their room. "Like pants. Goblins are like pants. They're annoying," she explained. "Pants are unnecessary."
He blinked. "Indeed."
"Tell me more about the goblins."
"They're intolerable," he said dryly, his gaze focused at the juncture of her thighs. He wondered if he could slowly unravel her undergarments over the next few minutes without her noticing. Surely her sensitivity to magic would be somewhat dulled with residual inebriation? "Like toddlers with cookies."
Sarah cackled, toppling off her chair and clawing her way onto their bed. "Jareth, owner of Goblin Daycare!"
He pinched his nose. "I'd wish them away if I could."
"Aw, leave them alone, they're not that bad."
"Not that bad?" Jareth stood, conjuring a coaster for the cider bottle and relocating the ensemble discreetly to the bedside table. "They once ate my throne."
"Ate it?"
"Horns and all."
"So what happened? Did you rebuild it?"
"No," he replied, easing down next to her and trailing his fingertips along her shoulder. Her chemise began to fade in the wake of his fingers as a flush dawned in its place. "I waited for them to regurgitate it. There are a few select substances that goblins cannot digest, contrary to local legend. Many headaches have been dedicated to their escapades."
She rolled onto his lap; still not quite sure if she was being kittinishly obtuse or a coy wanton, he danced his fingers in slow arabesques across her hip bones and spiraled around her belly.
"Haven't you ever tried migraine pills from Aboveground? I'm sure you could travel Aboveground and -"
"Tried it," he interrupted, his expression bleak. "As well as most forms of alcohol. Nothing helps but banishing the little buggers to the Bog. But that is a double-edged sword since they return eventually. By that point, I'm forced to then deal not only with their cacophony but Bog-stench as well."
Eyeing his handiwork with pride, he chanced a light stroke from her collarbone to her knees, unimpeded by fabric. "Which," he added, "is made yet worse by the fact that Bog-water makes them flammable. I have had to ban Bogging during any festival at which there will be fireworks, but the cretins have learned. Damn creatures keep trying to eat them and being surprised when rainbow sparks shoot out their arses."
As Sarah contemplated the vision of drunk, putrid, fire-lit goblins running amok about the castle grounds, she clasped her hands to her temples. "Headache," she complained. "What - ohhh…"
"In my experience," he murmured, trying to keep the hoarseness from his voice as she undulated across his lap, "distraction is the best policy."
"Distract away," she said breathlessly. "Oh hell." Her head slammed back into the bedspread.
His thumb stroked lightly down her sex, petting it open for him until she was dreamily thrusting for him. As her abdomen tightened and her knees fell open, he massaged her breasts, plucking at the flushed nipples until they stood proud as raspberries. "Does this please you, Precious?" he crooned.
"It's okay, I guess," she panted.
"How very kind you are," he replied, trying not to thrust upwards into her arched back. After several teasing swirls around her center, he insinuated a finger into her into the hilt. Her instant silken clasp around the digit made his thighs tense. When she dared to meet his eyes and laughed breathlessly, he slapped her breasts. "Catty behavior does not earn you orgasms, Precious."
"Who says I want orgasms?"
He crouched over her neck and suckled her earlobe into his mouth, hearing her breath hitch and noting her body pulse around his finger. He tickled that particular spot inside her until she clawed at his arm. "Shh," he whispered. "No words are needed except 'please,' 'more,' and perhaps, if you're quite lucky, 'let me come.'"
The rosy blush on her cheeks was spreading nicely down her torso, though he was sure that was in part due to the audible squelches of her eager body as he dragged his finger through her now-sopping sex. "Sufficiently hydrated, are we?" he asked, unable to help himself.
Her eyes clenched shut. "Bastard."
"In spirit only," he replied. Her shyness delighted him. She was like a koto, needing to be tuned and warmed to his touch before -
She released her lower lip and moaned as his thumb began the slow, steady circles around the stiffened nub of her clit, measured at once circle per thrust of his finger.
"Just - so you know -" she gasped. "I'm not actually that drunk. It was all part of an elaborate plan."
He permitted himself a chuckle, the curls at the apex tickling his palm as she pumped against his hand. "Yes, you are," he murmured. "But I promise you: you will be entirely sober when you scream my name to the universe tonight. That moment, Precious, will be etched in crystal clarity in your first morning thought."
At her sharp intake of breath, he bent down once more and pressed hard against her inner wall, thrumming against her clit with the heavy pressure she was ready for. "Now, Precious: say your right words."
She choked, her face now crimson and her eyes wild. "Damn you!"
"Say it, my lovely wanton. Now!"
"Jareth, I -"
"Not your right words. Do I really need to remind you?"
Her body was beginning to clench, the tightness bordering on strangulation and curse it all to hell but he wanted his cock there -
"Please," she whimpered. "Please - le-"
Her throat locked, the tendons standing out in the light.
"Good girl. Let the world fall down: I'll catch you amongst the stars. Now come!"
