Sitting in front of her vanity mirror while Aine arranged her hair, Sarah tried to breathe normally.
And stop her hands from shaking.
Oddly, her mind was calm - eager, even. If someone had told Sarah a year ago that she would be - oh, she didn't know, President or somesuch - and attempted to predict her emotional state the day of her acceptance ceremony, she would have believed any answer but this present reality. No: the trembling hands and darting mind were the result of adrenaline coursing through her body.
It wasn't as if she didn't know what was going to happen. She'd been over the details with Lavena hundreds of times. She'd been over the etiquette with Aine just as many.
It was fight or flight mode, and Sarah wanted to fight.
She was ready.
… if only her damn nervous system didn't betray her.
"Aine - did you pull my corset tighter than normal? It feels tighter than normal."
"Slow breathing, Sarah," Aine said softly, carefully twisting tendrils around the base of her crown. "You need to breathe slowly."
No circlet or dainty tiara this time: a crown. A full, proper crown.
The tiara Jareth had gifted her before their visit to Agnes' castle was plain compared to what was currently being pinned firmly in place amongst her curls. From the filigree base of diamonds and sapphires, thirteen golden peaks jutted above her head like the rays of the dawning sun. Centered on each spire was a deep navy stone that Jareth had forged with blood magic. As with her circlet, each blood stone contained his essence and not a small bit of protective magic.
When she'd first laid eyes on the ostentatious crown that morning, she wasn't convinced that Jareth was serious about her wearing it. Aside from the fact that it looked like he'd pulled every star from the sky to decorate it, it also looked as if it weighed as much as Toby. She'd uncomfortably remembered what he'd informed her on their trip to Angus' castle: Sarah's tiara, also set with royal blood stones, was of simple design in order to better proclaim the pricenessness of the stones' significance. That basis for comparison made the majesty of this ceremonial crown she now wore all the greater.
And so, Jareth had done what he always did when Sarah was teetering between being awed and offended by something this extravagant:
He waited.
And waited.
And waited.
It was a while before Sarah found her voice. And even then, it was inarticulate sounds that meant absolutely nothing. Jareth had merely smiled, placed it atop her head, and curled his finger under her chin. "I would pull down all the stars for you, Precious," he said. "The wealth of my kingdom and blood is but poor offering as placeholder." Having placed the softest of kisses to her lips, he then left her to Aine's preparations.
She hadn't resurfaced from her thoughts for hours. It was real. She was going to be Queen… if she could just get through this ceremony. And unlike other coronation ceremonies the Underground had held, Sarah and Lavena's plans for this one would make it one for the history books.
Sarah shook her head now, as if to clear the memory from her head and found Lavena to be speaking to her.
"...did you hear me, Sarah?" her fae mentor asked, standing and straightening the folds of her own dress, an ethereal silk in sky-blue. Lavena's simple tiara wreathed the field of her cornsilk-blonde hair, but otherwise she wore no jewelry. Like Sarah's tiara, her beauty was also enough to speak for itself.
"Sorry, no. I was … somewhere else."
"Don't gather too much wool," was the only mild reproach. "We'll need you present today."
Aine stepped back from Sarah and set her hands on Sarah's shoulders. "Her Ladyship was telling you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Now, stand up," she ordered affectionately, "and let us see the completed effect."
Sarah took a deep breath and turned for them, holding her shoulders back proudly as she'd been taught. Aine nodded in approval before she dropped her head in reverence and curtsied deeply. "Our queen, at last," she said.
"Rise," Sarah said, adding, "before the surrealism makes me go completely batty."
"There's nothing left for us to do here," Lavina pronounced, tapping her palm with two fingers in ladylike gentility in applause for Aine's handiwork.
"I wish I could come with you," the handmaid said, looking misty-eyed.
"I know, but I have to do this alone," Sarah said with a rueful smile. "And someone my family trusts has to protect them in the upper galley in case things get… out of hand."
"I'll go with her as far as I can, Goodfae Aine," Lavena said reassuringly. She looked at Sarah with an eyebrow raised, gentle humor in her voice as she intoned the words now legend in the Labyrinth. "But should you need us…"
"Yes, should you need us…" Aine echoed solemnly.
"I won't," Sarah replied, shaking her head despite the small smile. "I will either do this, or I will fail. And if I fail, no one can help."
She turned back to the full-length mirror and pulled her magic around herself, thinking back on every decision, every twist and turn that led her to that precise moment. "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here, to the castle beyond the Goblin City," she whispered. "For my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom as great…"
She didn't even flinch as she felt Jareth step up behind her.
"Look what I'm offering you," he whispered, dropping a kiss to her bare shoulder. "Your dreams."
Sarah closed her eyes and took another deep breath. "But what no one knew is that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl..."
"Just so," he murmured. She tilted her head and allowed Jareth to clasp her own crescent pendant around her neck, a smaller and daintier twin of his own. The thrum of power against her skin, though, was no less. "Your armor, my queen."
She turned to face him, and leaned up on her toes, her hands resting against his chest for support and kissed him softly. Then, she stepped back, straightened her spine and lifted her chin.
"I'm ready."
Jareth nodded, offered his arm and led her to the next step on her journey.
Sarah's gaze was steady - slow movements, measured inhale, Lavena had reminded her for the tenth time before she'd departed to join the rest of the Court - and she reminded herself that she'd been prepared for every eventuality, every single trial they would put her through. Every snide comment concerning her lineage or her mortality, or anything they could use to pick her apart and tear her down. Every glance out of the corners of their eyes, anything they could throw at her to invalidate her position beside their King. She'd been prepared for bribes and promises in exchange for her refusing or influence from the throne. She'd been prepared for death threats against her and her family. Been prepared for every single possible scenario that could have presented itself in that moment.
What they didn't do, however, was prepare them for her.
The first part of the ceremony had been mechanically fluid. Vows had been made, oaths sworn, wine sipped. Jareth had bestowed the High King's blessing upon her, his recitation of the formula straightforward. Now, under his meaningful glare, the lower Fae lords were rising from their court thrones to come forward and do the same. According to tradition, all that remained was for her to accept their blessings. Afterwards, customs indicated that Sarah should accept her crown with no more than a grave gratitude and a promise to rule justly, then she and Jareth would leave the Court.
The moment was now to deviate.
Sarah stood from the single throne where the ceremony had been carried out thus far. "If it pleases my lords and the Court, I bid you stay." Her voice rang out over the hushed congregation; she was pleased that it sounded confident, self-assured. With uncertain glances at the High King, the lords sank back into their seats.
The folds of her ceremonial robe brushed across the cold marble floor as she now walked to the edge of dais. Her green eyes narrowed as she took in the whole court, their expressions rattled free of protocol. She committed their faces, their expressions, to memory. She noted Lavena and King Angus, both watching at her with pride and anticipation. She acknowledged, too, the expressions of scorn, cold dubiousness, and even anger. And, too, the eyes veiled in obfuscation, expressionless, their bland mouths hinting neither at smile nor hatred.
She heard Jareth sit up straighter on his throne behind her, his own seat positioned on a platform level raised higher than hers in accordance with his already- established sovereignty. When their political marriage was formalized, Sarah would join him on that highest level as his equal. Today was the only time she'd speak to her empire as an individual rather than as part of the ruling duet.
She was going to make this count.
"I am Sarah Williams. Champion and Defender of the Labyrinth, co-regent to the King of Goblins. Goblin Queen," she said. "As of this day, I have promised to be your High Queen."
She felt his magic, snapping with tension, probe at her own. She ignored it and continued. "There have been many things said about me since my time here long ago. There have been books and prophecies, poems and songs, rumors and whispers. There have been questions unanswered, asked to all except me. Allow me to enlighten you on such matters… they do not begin to speak truth to my power."
She stepped forward a little more, standing at the top of the staircase. Lavena had urged Sarah to consider remaining closer to the traditional ceremony by remaining on the dais with the High King's silhouette behind her. While Sarah agreed that it would lend credence to her words, she also knew she wouldn't be a queen who needed the shadow of a king.
I will either do this, or I will fail. And if I fail, no one can help.
And so, Sarah took her first step off the dais, then another, then another. As she started her measured circuit of the room, she continued. "I understand the concern of my lineage. The concern of my mortality. I understand the concern of an outsider ruling as Queen of your kingdom. But do not forget that this is, too, my kingdom. I have been chosen by the Labyrinth itself as well as its High King, and it is a responsibility I do not take lightly. Do not think, for one minute, one second, that my loyalty is not to this kingdom, its King, and its inhabitants. To rule greatly is not to rule with fear; I have no intention of doing so. I will not, however, tolerate insolence and disrespect. I will not accept hushed whispers in the dark - if there is grievance, speak now, and I will hear you."
She kept walking in the silence that deafened the room. She kept her chin raised, her shoulders and back straight. "Speak!"
There was a slight cough; a small man in the perimeter circle of lower Fae lords and kings cleared his throat, not meeting Sarah's eyes. "My lady," he muttered. "With all due respect for your… invitation, it is not seemly to open this for debate. The High King has made his decision."
"The High King," Sarah retorted, "does not speak for me any more than I speak for him. I would earn your respect and allegiance for my own merit."
His gaze snapped to hers, then, and she saw the disgust written in the tightness of his eyelids. "My lady," he repeated, "your intentions are noble, I'm sure. However, it is simply… not possible for you to earn what His Majesty is owed."
"And why not?"
With an incredulous glance at Jareth, the lord coughed again. "My lady, you are… human. This is an empire of Fae, and many more besides. We have existed since before the coming of humans to Eire. His Majesty's respect for you is… commendable, but you will always be...," he trailed off, seeming to taste the word in his mouth before he uttered it. "Other."
Sarah forced herself to keep moving, not releasing the lord from her gaze. His name came to her suddenly - Lord Eurddolad. A traditionalist, she'd heard Earnon describe. "What relevance does that have upon my appointment, my Lord Eurddolad?"
He went a shade paler, his fine black hair a stark contrast. Sarah could tell that it was anger, not fear, that affected his complexion. "Very well, my lady; you obligate me to not dance words with you. Why should I put the protection and support of my kingdom and my people into the mortal hands of a human who hasn't even seen her fiftieth year? What reason do I have to believe that a foreigner, an immigrant to our vast and complex empire, with no power or investment in our traditions and our ways of life, could possibly be anything other than a liability to the Crown?"
Sarah saw Jareth begin to stand; she sent out a hard bolt of magic in his direction. I know what I'm doing, Jareth. Trust me.
She turned back to Eurddolad. "A fair question, my lord, deserves a fair answer. It is true that I am a stranger here in comparison; however, like the first fae before you, I have made the Underground my home as well. I chose the Underground and this life, a choice many of you never had to make. I have the utmost reverence, respect, and love for this land - else, I would not give up a life amongst my people. I know what it is to crave the 'promised land,' to use an Aboveground phrase, and you can trust in that. I have chosen this as my home as much as you have."
"You dare to speak of love for our empire even as you defy tradition?" he snapped. "Where is your respect for the dynasty of our people?"
The human kept her hands unclenched by a force of will. "'Tradition' doesn't always mean 'best.' You yourself have a Council, my lord, just as His Majesty values your view in his. You know that the voice of dissent is a valuable tool in the armory of a wise man. Sometimes, honoring the love of the past can only be done by changing the future. The seed that falls from a great tree does not leave the tree; it grows from the remembered stories in its roots, and becomes newer, stronger. I will not eradicate, but renew, the cherished good of the Underground."
The black-haired fae scoffed, passing a hand over his goatee'd chin in laughing incredulity. "Such pride, the hallmark of your species! Do you presume to know us well enough to understand what is best for the Underground? Surely you must know that I am not alone in doubting the ….reach of your arm, never mind the height of your valor. Many are concerned that you, a human adolescent, would not be able to deal with the rational and grim difficult decisions that would be required of a High Queen."
In spite of herself, Sarah growled, "Don't sink to petty insults. I am not a child, and I will thank you to do me the due courtesy you respect in return." It's not my fault that fae apparently take centuries to learn what humans do in under three decades, she finished in the safety of her own mind.
He drummed his fingertips on his armrests. "It is through no fault of your own," he allowed, "a natural restriction of your species. Perhaps you are of age amongst other humans. The fact remains that - like candles - your kind flickers hotly but gutters out at the first drop of a gail. Mark my words, Lady Sarah, you would crumble under the weight of politics with those who far outweigh you in experience, their own esteem, and a natural birthright of power. It not within your species' …capacity to succeed in our games."
The dark-haired woman couldn't help but laugh, a jagged sound that skimmed the murmurings of the court. "Are you going to seriously claim that Fae are in complete control of their emotions at all times? Do you think they don't act as impulsively as humans, and can fail as spectacularly? Have you ever seen the fits of ire His Majesty is famous for?" She flashed a quick, humorless smile. "I have. It ain't pretty. And let's not even go into his father's edicts."
At this, the muttering of the court became an irritated buzz. Jareth's emotions slapped at Sarah's magic. You play a dangerous game, he warned. Demean me and my father at the cost of their loyalty to me.
Eurddolad flinched as if pricked by some memory, two flags of humiliation on his cheeks.
She continued onwards, almost shouting to make herself heard over the crowd. "We are not so different, my lord! Do you think old age dictates a person's temperament? You think race determines a person's ability to lead? You don't need absolute knowledge to lead. You need a willingness to learn. You have to be willing to make difficult decisions. You have to surround yourself with people who know more than you and aren't afraid of you - people that you trust to speak openly and honestly to you without fear of repercussion. You need to be smart and tactual, and you need to admit when you don't know something and that you don't know everything. You need to admit when you're wrong and learn from it. You think those are traits gifted only to elite Fae? Ask your mothers how greatness is born; I'm sure they'd have tales to tell!"
Eurddolad opened his mouth but then snapped it shut, glowering. He cut his eyes to Jareth once more and sat back, clearly unwilling to argue further.
Another of the lords on the other side of the room crossed his arms. "Well, my lords," he barked, laughing himself but not smiling. "The human has gone and let the Sìth out of the sack now! She's given us her royal permission to speak, and she dulls no blade in her riposts. Are you Fae or are you not?" He leaned forwards. "I, for one, will not stopper my tongue when bidden to speak my mind by a woman."
"Lord Caydren," Sarah replied evenly, regaining her breath. Stupid tight corset. She'd studied paintings of his face in Earnon's books, knew what he was like from Lavena's gossiping. A hard man, she'd been told, but a brave one. "What would you say?"
The curls of his wild blond hair fell to his waist as he stood, his rugged build impressive and his stance firm. Whatever his politics, he was also clearly a warrior. "I don't care about your qualifications. Concubine or queen, the title matters little. What matters to me is that you have the High King's ear. His Majesty has taken dangerous risks for your sake before, and you show little acknowledgement of that danger. You are a threat to the Underground by nature of his attachment to you."
"How do you claim I threaten the Underground's safety?" she replied, astounded.
"Surely I do not need to remind you of your capture at the hands of the Unseelie. His Majesty took a great risk to his life by venturing into their crime-infested lands to rescue you, and yet rumor is that you feel fondly towards the violent murderers! If you cannot thrust a sword at your enemy, how can you keep them from creeping into your home? I fear your soft-heartedness will be the ruin of the prosperity of the Seelie Court."
Sarah hesitated, bit her lip. She knew she was playing a very dangerous gambit, knew that she could not reveal her true loyalties….yet.
Instead, she inclined her head. "I cannot speak for His Majesty's actions and what he believes is right, but I can speak to what I know is right. I have gone out into your towns and cities, and I have lived with you all at every class. From kings to servants to, yes, even murderers and those accused of murder: you all have taught me more than musty old books have. This is what I have learned: defeating an enemy is not enough - we must ensure that they do not become our enemies to begin with."
The green-eyed woman realized that she had stopped pacing; she resumed, meeting everyone's eyes as she passed. She thought of Aine, of the Unseelie family who rescued her, of the secret Melantha yearning for Lavena in the dark.
She thought of Lorcan.
Choosing her words slowly, she said, "Fae have been given tremendous power and prestige - some of you more than others. For those of us who do have the power to change the playing field, we ought to - we shouldn't turn our backs and ignore those we think are beneath us, not look down on them as something less. We need to allow them to bring unique advancements to our world as they uniquely can. If we do not extend it, those living in humility often never get the opportunity to choose it. Lifting up the meekest of us is to the reward of all."
Caydren folded his arms. "Pretty words, Lady Sarah, but only pretty words. We do not open the doors of our dungeons and expect its inhabitants to sing sonnets in our honor at our dinner table."
The dark-haired woman whirled on him. "Violence begets violence. Community begets community. Kindness begets kindness. Have you ever wondered why these - these - prisoners, lesser Fae, other species, whatever you want to label them - are poor and violent? Because there's no other way. Humans are starting to learn this fundamental truth, and it's been thousands of generations for us! How can you pull yourself up by the bootstraps without having boots? Many people work themselves sick, just to make ends meet and provide for their families. Generations and generations of poverty and oppression affects not just the individuals and families, but the community as a whole. When those at the top are further and further removed from the reality, they lose sight of those beneath their feet. That is why there's violence. When you can't escape your situation, when following the rules yields no difference and the top treats you less than human, of course you lash out and do what you must to survive. Impossible situations, where people hold their knees on the back of peoples' necks to stop their progress, turns an already volatile situation to absolute madness. It's a spark to kindling. The slightest thing will cause it to combust!"
The Fae were shifting now, and even through the pounding of blood in her ears, she heard the arguments hissing in the room. Caydren was flushed, the five tips of his beard quivering. "You accuse and condemn the very empire you seek to lead!"
"When something needs fixing, it needs to be fixed," she retorted. "The most powerful are the most detached from reality. You cannot exist in a bubble and echo chamber and expect to understand what's going on around you. This is how I can help. I listen to those who have been ignored. I want to end the division, not further it. If that means I'm a mascot for those who need a voice, then so be it. As your future queen, I will be a queen for all, not just those with the most magical power or born to aristocracy."
"This is lunacy!" another lord burst out. Sarah couldn't place his name, though she knew he looked familiar. "She speaks rabble and nonsense."
"If that's true, then why have laws been made in the name of tradition that keep everyone frozen at the status quo?" she shot back. "Your actions are in direct opposition to your words. Why? What are we so afraid of? It is the duty of a good leader to be a leader for all, not just for those with deep purses and influence. I will not forget those living in the gutter for all that I might dwell in a palace."
The unidentified-fae lord hissed in an undertone that nevertheless carried: "And this is the creature he wants to lead us? Madness! He is mad!"
The noble to the right of him turned. "His Majesty is not mad," he said icily. "The Lady Sarah has spoken truths which I myself have brought to Council many times before this. Our laws are outdated and antiquated; our power is spread too thinly for our laws to be just for the Fae. If this is madness, call me mad before you apply it to our High King!"
"I will call you all mad! You are all, to a man, as volatile and unstable! This is our way of life, that which made us great! Without it, we will crumble!!"
"Do you speak of me, Lord Artek, when you speak of mad judgement?"
Jareth's murmured voice spilled across the room like the dark flood of an overturned wine glass; it sopped up all fire as it went until there was silence once more, though the heat remained.
"No, of course not, my king," Artek mumbled. "Forgive me; I spoke hastily." Something in the shifting of his eyes caught Sarah's attention, and when she sent out a questing tendril of magic; she could barely, but nevertheless - heard - the faint whisper of the Fae companion immediately to his right. "….At least King Marcus promises a Court with members of state. Does His Majesty seek to throw tradition out on its ear by inviting a human to rule over us?"
Her anger hardened.
"Does anyone else have reservations that haven't already been aired?" she called out. There was silence, though the tension in the room was as thick as granite. "Good; then we can at least agree on that much," she concluded softly.
She returned to the dais. "None of you have criticized anything about my ability to rule save than what you think you know about me. Yes, I am human, and yes, I am young by your standards. But there is a wealth of me that you do not know."
She swept her robe aside, facing them with the poise and unflinching gaze that Lavena had tutored her in so meticulously. "I thank you for raising your voice and making yourself heard this day. I have heard, and as your High Queen, I will continue always to listen - especially to those who disagree with me. The beauty, the magic, the majesty of the Underground belongs to all who love it and want to protect it. All of it belongs to all of us. I am not the enemy any more so than any one of my dissenters is mine. Our common enemy is this division; it is like a cancer spreading throughout the lands. It is infecting all of us. Can you not see that? If some of us fall, all of us fall."
She gestured at Jareth. "His Majesty is the most intelligent, wise, passionate, and courageous person I have ever met," she said quietly. "But that is not why I give him my loyalty. I give him my loyalty because he is humble enough to listen and brave enough to learn. That makes him the best of kings. Look at it how you will, but the fact that I'm here means he's heard something in the heartbeat of the Underground that is worth listening to. His people want to hear what he says. They want to hear me. Hear us."
Sarah took a deep breath. "War is on our doorstep, insidious and born of hatred. It is not a war of right or wrong, but of greed, prejudice, pride, and fear. If we draw swords against it, we will draw against our friends and our loved ones, against our ideals and heritage. This is not a fight we can win: the first blood spilled will be too great a loss. We must steady ourselves and unite as one kingdom, for surely we will fall if we do not."
She raised her chin, hoping that the trembling of her throat was not visible. "I do not intend to make promises impossible to keep. If the war-mongering villains among us are unimpeded, retaliation will be swift. However, there will be no glory in that bloodshed: only regret and resignation. I realize that I am different from you. Well, times of change were upon you before me and they will continue regardless of my presence. I am not a liability: I am hope for an existence better than a field of graves and silenced futures. I am a future where we can give our children a life of freedom, of value and purpose, of honoring our individualities in order to strengthen our unity. One empire, united not for the survival of our past, but for our prosperity in the future. That what I vow to you as your High Queen."
She gestured at the ring of lower Fae lords. "I will not accept forced fealty. Disagree with me or agree with me as you would - it is your right, and I will put the good of the Underground above my own dreams. But know this: I will not tolerate false loyalty to myself, or to His Majesty, your High King. So I will ask you this now: will you stand for me and declare me your Queen so that I might stand for you?"
There she stood. In the scribes' proclamations that would be dispersed that night to the outreaches of the Underground, this moment would be noted. They'd write: the human woman's chin was raised proudly, her eyes gleaming as dark moss, robed in the deepest navy, the hue a match for the royal blood-gems inlaid in her crown amidst hair of the blackest night.
Sarah gave ample time for her words to sink in, and then to make a choice. To challenge or affirm her power. To decry or accept her.
It was Lavena that spoke first. She stood, followed by King Anngus, two islands jutting from the sea of the Court.
"We will stand with you, Your Majesty," she declared, and sank into the lowest curtesy Sarah'd yet seen save than given Jareth: a sign of utmost loyalty. Sarah nodded in acknowledgement, but kept silent.
Then, another vow of loyalty, this time from the back of the theater. Then another confirmation. And another. And another.
She waited until the silence had reached its zenith. Most of the Court had stood in her honor, along with perhaps half of the fae lords. When it became clear that no one else would declare themselves for her, Jareth himself stood to address the Court.
"There is much to be discussed, much to be considered. We are deeply divided; this leaves us vulnerable to those without and those within. The day when a brother may plot against a brother is a dark day to us all; what else may move in the darkness of the hours to come? These are things to dwell upon: an answer and its reckoning will be required. In my choice of Sarah Williams as High Queen, I have chosen the path of courage, of resilience, of loyalty and aid to be found from...the most unexpected of allies." Sarah felt the warm touch of his magic reach out to her. "Lady Sarah inspires cowards to be heroes, traitors to be allies, and kings to be friends. Ponder the future she symbolizes as you prepare for our feast this evening. Enjoy the grounds of the castle as you see fit until sundown this evening, whereupon the doors to the Feast will be opened!"
And with that, he descended the staircase, taking her arm in a vice grip as he passed. When they reached the main floor, even the Fae seated in dissent stood in reverence to their High King. The court musicians behind them launched into a fanfare as the great theater doors opened to admit them.
Sarah exhaled in a whoosh the moment the heavy wooden doors behind them closed, though they continued in silence and unaccompanied to the Receiving Room, the less formal theater utilized for daily interviews and bequests of visitors after grandiose gatherings like this. Despite the feast to come, the formalities of the coronation were now concluded. It was done, for better or for worse.
She was never much for the rules anyway.
The less formal dais onto which they had entered from the side was already outfitted for the two monarchs. Two thrones, now, rather than one. Sarah immediately recognized hers from the day so long ago when she had joined Jareth in dealing with his Runner: a black metal seat, shaped into a giant raven holding a jeweled triskele. The brocade ribbons dangling from the stylized wing-like armrests almost seemed to reach for her as if she were a magnet.
She gave them a caress as she passed, but continued without pausing towards the far door that would take her most directly back to her private chambers.
Sarah had taken one step off the low dais, foot perched above the second stair when she heard his voice, quiet but implicit in its demand, from his throne.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.
Sarah still did not turn to him; she answered over her shoulder. "To prepare for dinner. Lavena told me that I'm supposed to change and get ready to greet everyone," she said; however, she dared not move another step.
"Come here, Sarah," he whispered to her, his voice a low rumble of thunder; she felt a shiver tumble down her spine at his command, but still she did not move. She didn't know if it was the unilateral command or his tone, but there was something dangerous lingering below the surface. Supernovas formed and exploded under her skin: as surely as she could feel the air entering and leaving her lungs, she could feel him.
"What for?" she asked, almost afraid of his answer.
"Come here, Sarah. Do not make me repeat it."
She faced him. He was a statue, cut to perfection from marble. His eyes were steely, threatening of the oncoming storm. The crescent of his throne loomed behind him with ivory horns, the dark purple silks flowing like from its points like rivers around him.
Instinct warned Sarah to approach cautiously. The sound of her heavy robe was a loud rasp that measured the distance to the giant thrones...
...and the man that was worthy of seating himself in that place of power. No. He is no man, her brain reminded her. He is… something else. You are something else.
She stopped near him, just out of reach, close enough to feel his magic pulsating in a constant ebb and flow, equal parts invitation and intimidation, as they stood scant feet apart.
"Closer, Sarah."
She almost did not dare to breathe another exhale in the distance between them. She felt the energy, the iciness of him, touch her skin and she resisted the urge to shiver once more.
"Now, Sarah," he growled, and Sarah decided it best to not further press her luck.
She stepped forward, enough so that he could grip her hips and pull her closer still. He looked down at her - not with disapproval, as she'd feared, but with reverence.
"My Queen," he said, lowering his head to hers, the jagged peaks of his crown casting shimmering reflections on the fabric of her gown in the fiery afternoon light. "You were magnificent."
"You're not angry?" she asked, astounded. "I realize that I … changed things around."
"Changed things around?" he mimicked. "Oh, precious, 'angry' doesn't begin to cover it. Neither does 'proud,' 'horrified,' or 'absolutely, embarrassingly, completely'..." He kissed her forehead, his exhale fanning in a wave of heat over her face. "...infatuated," he concluded under his breath. He muttered, "Of all the women in this universe, in all of time, I had to fall to my knees for the embodiment of chaos with a sharp tongue and a streak of stubbornness more intimidating to surmount than scaling Mount Olympus on one leg."
"I can't believe you're not furious with me," Sarah said skeptically.
A corner of his mouth crooked up. "This Greater Fae is driven wild by you," he admitted quietly. "You are a hurricane, the ocean walking the land and destroying everything its path."
"But I don't want to destroy anything," she protested. "I meant what I said, Jareth!"
His eyes flickered over hers. "You've all but destroyed my defenses. And somehow, I cannot bring myself to mind."
She cupped his face. She was his. She would never belong to another; in that silent moment, she knew that her spirit would forever be haunted by him. Centuries or minutes could pass, and she would never find another to fill the shadow his presence had cast in her soul.
She knew, too, that he was hers. Not as an adversary, not as a girl to turn his world upside down, not a woman whose expectations he would never stop trying to live up to, but as an equal. A woman so possessed in her independence and ferocity that she would, with her bare hands, grind to dust anyone that would seek them harm.
He didn't break their gaze as he sat and pulled her to stand between his knees, his hands gathering up the navy velvet of her gown where he held her. She didn't look away from his mismatched eyes as the hem brushed the tops of her thighs; she neither needed nor waited for an invitation to straddle his lap as the cool air pebbled her belly.
She knelt above him. She was powerful and unrestrained; wild and unfettered. She rushed nothing, she said nothing.
She grabbed his wrists gently, carefully tugging at the leather that encased his fingers, finally pulling them away from eager skin. She breathed in deeply when she heard the glove drop to the floor.
Bare hands reached beneath her gown, now pooled in his lap and found the thin bit of lace that separated them. She could hear as it strained against his strength, holding on to its last thread before succumbing to him completely.
She could sympathize.
His fingers traced up her center, just a tease of what he could do, the corner of his mouth quirking up as she stuttered in a breath, but now was not the time for teasing or playing. Now was a time of joining and she shifted as he lifted his lithe hips to pull his trousers down enough that he could feel the heat of her against his length. She lifted herself to her knees, hands steady on strong shoulders, and took him inside of her body, eyes locked to his as she bit her lip and inhaled.
His hands locked at her hips as she lifted and lowered herself in rhythm to the music of their breath. Steady: not too slow, not too fast. Her hands laced into his hair, fingertips brushing the crown of stars that encircled his head, and leaned down to place her lips to his. Unhurried, but firm, he reciprocated in kind as they gave and stole the air around them, chests heaving but in control. Their magic pulsated around them, earth and sky; fire and ice; entangled and entwined until neither knew which was her and which was him.
Sarah sucked in a breath as his mouth drifted from her passion-swollen lips down the column of her neck. She felt the heat of his breath against her ear, hushed whispers of days past in a language she could not decipher but had branded itself in her memory. Secrets from the first days, promises for the end of days, she could feel his voice in her blood and it sang back to him. In her passion, in her reverence, in her strength, in her very being.
One hand behind her back, another flat against the seat of his throne, he shifted forward for a better angle, a way for her to take him more deeply inside, finally locking that arm around her waist to hold her as their bodies moved in perfect syncopation. Forehead to his, she shivered at the look upon his face, resplendent as his gaze fixed into her soul. Those eyes flashed for a second - completely black, and in them, she could see the universe. Every star there was or would be, every world and realm they would touch; the universe that he promised her without ever speaking a word. "All of me," he said into her mind. "Take all of me into you."
"Yes," she whispered against his mouth, unafraid of the alien-ness of what he was. She accepted all of him, just as she had given all of her.
His eyes faded back to the familiar ice blue-and-green that she'd fallen in love with all those years ago, perfect in their imperfection, her breath coming quicker now as her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt.
"I love you," he said simply, crushing his mouth to hers, and then, as stars did from time to time, they fell.
