Warning - graphic violence ahead...
Chapter Twelve
"Jax," Jareth barked into the ether, reclining in the high-backed leather chair behind the desk in his study, his feet propped on the desk paying no mind to the pile of parchment crumpling beneath the heel of his boots. He threaded a crystal through his fingers, rolling the glass sphere over the backs of his hands as he stared absentmindedly at the swinging pendulum of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, the clocks steady tick-tock echoing in the otherwise silent space.
A cautious knock sounded on the study door. "Enter," the Goblin King mumbled, his mind elsewhere.
"You requested my presence your majesty?" Jax, the kings advisor bowed low, his sandy blonde hair falling in loose strands over his eyes.
"Do you recall where the disused dungeon is?" Jareth asked.
"Are you referring to the one abandoned due to favour of the oubliettes?" Jax frowned.
"Yes."
"I vaguely recall it your majesty, why is it that you ask?"
"I need you to go down there and see to it that the chains are in still in place and I need you to set up a few other items while you're down there - I shall provide you with a list," Jareth stated, tossing the crystal in to the air, catching it in the palm of his hand.
"May I ask why my king? There is ample space in the oubliette's, the dungeon is not needed at this time and I wasn't aware there was a prisoner…"
"Do as I say Jax, must you question everything?-" Jareth snapped, "-the prisoner is yet to arrive, they will be here by nightfall, just do your job and quit asking questions. This particular little caged bird is going to get preferable treatment, an oubliette just won't do, not for the plans I have in mind," he grinned sinisterly.
Jax swallowed, unnerved by the predatory look in his master's eyes. "Forgive me your majesty, I'll make sure everything is in place as you wish," he nodded.
"I should think so, after all, it is your job," the Goblin King scoffed, clicking his fingers to produce a roll of parchment. "Here is the list of what I require, I want word that everything is in order by dusk," he instructed, handing the parchment to the nervous fae.
"Yes my liege," Jax bowed dutifully.
"Very well, you are dismissed," Jareth waved his hand arrogantly, shooing his adviser from the room. Once alone, he succumbed to sadistic glee, grinning benevolently as he steeped his gloved fingers beneath his chin. Tonight the bloodthirsty king would know that Jareth always kept his word, that he didn't make empty threats that he had no intention of seeing through. Tonight, the high king would know how it felt to have what he saw as his taken away and the most joyful aspect of his plans was that there would be no retribution.
Without a betrothal, there is no substantial evidence that his delicate little sweetheart was to be queen. Right now, she was just a bed warmer, a warm, soft body for him to satisfy his lusts. He wasn't committing a crime against the crown for there was no crown upon her pretty little head. No, she was just another caged bird for Jareth to play with, to clip it's wings and break until it no longer sang of happiness and joy. This little birdy would know nothing but pain and misery, a price she must pay for those that she associated with.
"Phelia-" Jeremiah tugged on Ophelia's hand as they walked through the palace halls, heading to the dining hall, "-are we having pancakes?" he looked up at her hopefully, his pale grey eyes almost pleading.
"I don't know honey, we'll find out soon enough," Ophelia smiled, squeezing his hand.
David chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Are you not tired of pancakes child? You've had them almost every day this week."
"Nuh-uh-" Jeremiah shook his head vehemently, "-I love pancakes," he grinned and David smiled, ruffling his hair.
David had just ushered Jeremiah into the dining hall when he sensed a familiar presence approaching.
"Stelllaaaaaaa," Paul hollered down the corridor and Ophelia's face lit up in a beaming grin as she turned to face the shaggy haired pain in the king's arse.
"You're free-" Ophelia gasped, clutching her hands to her chest, "-I thought I'd never see you again," she exclaimed dramatically, feigning wiping tears from her eyes before the pair embraced enthusiastically and David rolled his eyes. It would seem much to his disapproval, that his queen had formed a firm friendship with his hellion guard.
"You do realise that it is against protocol to touch the queen Paul, do you wish to spend yet another night in the dungeon for showing blatant disregard for the rules?" David folded his arms across his chest, his brow arched.
"David c'mon, he's not just a guard, he's my friend," Ophelia pouted, resting her head on Paul's shoulder.
"You have atrocious taste in friends," David scoffed.
"C'mon Dave-" the king shot Paul a warning glare, "-sire, it isn't like I'm trying to feel her up or something."
David growled, his body growing rigid with outrage and Ophelia placed her hands on his chest, her warm touch calming him. "Paul, go sit down before he kicks your ass," she laughed, motioning for him to enter the dining hall.
"Yes my lady," he bowed exaggeratedly, sauntering past with an impish smirk.
Ophelia let the door close behind Paul and wrapped her arms around the king's neck, toying with the hair at the nape. "He's harmless baby," she smiled up at him, her beautiful emerald green eyes twinkling in the low light. David's chest ached hearing such a sweet term of endearment tumble from her lips and he smiled, grazing the pad of his thumb across her cheek.
"He's irritating," David countered, resting his forehead against her brow.
"Perhaps to others but to me he's honestly become a close friend. I spend the majority of my days with him. He might act the fool but he's just a fun-loving guy. He can be serious - I've seen it for myself. That week when we didn't speak, he was always trying to comfort me, asking me if I was OK or whether I needed to take a break. You have to give him some credit my king, he might be an anarchist with a penchant for saying the wrong thing but in terms of being a friend and a personal guard, he's one of the best," Ophelia stated.
"You'll be making friends with Ezra next and that's all I need," David pouted and Ophelia giggled.
"Don't pout baby, your destiny was to have a queen who would keep you on your toes," she smirked.
"Hmmm… that she does," David smirked softly nudging her lips. Ophelia exhaled a satisfied sigh and the king felt himself come undone. He pushed her up against the wall, pinning her with his hips as her bottom lip found its way between his teeth, his tongue seeking the wet, heat of her mouth. "I'm weak for you Ophelia," he murmured between ardent, salacious kisses.
"You know, there are more private places to do that than outside the dining hall during breakfast," Dwayne's amused voice broke through the fog of desire clouding the king's mind and he released his flushed queen, attempting to catch his breath.
"This is my palace and I shall do what I want, where I want and it would serve you well to remember that," David cleared his throat, adjusting his clothes as he took Ophelia's hand, leading her into the dining hall.
"You get that Dwayne? His palace," Ophelia teased and Dwayne barked a laugh.
"Is Alexandria back today?" Ophelia inquired, sipping her coffee as she leant back in her chair, rubbing her full stomach.
"No, his wife has been taken ill, I'm not sure when he will return," David informed her, leaning over to place another blueberry pancake on Jeremiah's plate.
"Oh, please send him my best wishes, I hope she's OK," Ophelia frowned, her expression showing genuine concern.
"I'll be sure to do so beloved," David nodded, his saccharine term of endearment eliciting snickers from around the table. "Grow up," he scoffed with a smirk which only served to provoke further amusement. "Seen as Alexandria is not available to resume your royal etiquette lessons, I've set up self-defence lessons for you in their place."
"Self-defence?" Ophelia baulked. "Wait is this going to be like some twisted form of Phys-Ed? I hate Phys-Ed," she pouted and David chuckled.
"Not quite-" he smiled, "-you will be learning how to properly use a sword along with the basics of hand-to-hand combat. It is essential that the queen knows how to defend herself if she finds herself in a situation that warrants it," he explained and Ophelia's eyes flickered with understanding. "Ezra will be teaching you how to use a sword as he is the best swordsman of the guard while Marko will go through the hand-to-hand combat."
"Don't you have any human guards to pit me off against? Putting me up against vampires is a little unfair," Ophelia quirked her brow.
"There are human guards but they are not as knowledgeable or as capable of showing you what you need to know. Neither Ezra nor Marko will harm you Ophelia, it's not like I'm putting you in a boxing ring and requesting you to stand your ground."
"No you're just supplying them with a sword to jab at me-" she countered, "-you do understand that I'm a total clutz and will most likely end up in the infirmary from stabbing myself in the foot or something, don't you?"
"We have a great healer," Marko winked and Ophelia scowled, tossing a hunk of bread in his direction.
"My love can you at least keep up the pretence of being the future queen, initiating a food fight over breakfast is not the behaviour of a royal," David sighed, exasperated.
Ophelia picked up another hunk of bread and tossed it in the king's direction. "Does that answer your question?" she smirked and the boys all snorted a laugh.
"Perhaps another lesson in obedience is in order my queen," David grinned cunningly, relishing in the way Ophelia's cheeks flushed pink as her lip found its way between her teeth.
"Bend over my lady, you're about to receive a royal spanking," Paul quipped across the table and Dwayne barked a laugh while Marko buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with amusement.
"My daddy used to spank me when I peed in the corn field," Jeremiah chirped innocently and the king couldn't contain his laughter.
"Stand and deliver, your money or your life," Paul warbled, swinging his sword in the air as he pranced in the middle of the ballroom.
"Dude your about to get a two week sentence in the dungeons if you keep fucking around," Marko chastised his friend with an amused smirk.
"And even though you fool your soul, your conscience will be mine… all mine," Paul pointed his sword in Ophelia's direction, rolling his eyes with a smirk.
Ophelia giggled from her perch on the edge of the dais as the trio waited for Ezra. "Hey Marko?" she chimed while Paul busied himself fighting an invisible opponent. The guy was nuts and she adored him. Paul was the big brother she'd always wanted, someone who understood her goofy personality and equally matched it with their own.
"What's up queen?" he smiled, strolling over to where she sat.
"Why do all the guard carry a sword and a dagger? Is a sword not enough?" she asked, gesturing to the small holster fastened to the belt of his pants.
"It depends who you're up against. The daggers are mainly to be used in emergencies, like an ambush situation during attacks by the fae. The daggers are made of iron, the fae cannot withstand the effects of iron, it incapacitates them immediately which is why all the cells in the dungeon have iron gates. If we have fae prisoners, they can't use their magic," Marko explained.
"Oh, I see, what about the swords, is there anything special about them?"
"Our swords are all made of silver, not only is it a durable metal but it is a powerful weapon against the Lycan."
"Oh, so the stories about a Werewolves weakness being silver is true?" she mused.
"Yeah, silver bullets, silver blades, silver arrows, anything with silver, it will incapacitate and kill a Lycan like iron would the fae – it's poison to them."
"What about vampires, are the myths true about garlic and crucifixes?"
Marko chuckled, shaking his head. "No, they have no effect on us – the whole crucifix thing all started with the belief that vampires are demons and what's the one weakness of a demon? God, right? So people thought that crucifixes and even holy water would drive away or kill a vampire but we're not demons, so it doesn't work. A vampire's weakness is the sunlight, we can withstand it for only a short amount of time before we start to burn, and it kills us completely. Otherwise, the only way to directly kill a vampire is decapitation or a direct hit to the heart but the weapon has to pierce the heart fully, we can survive a nick or a tear with the help of an experienced healer. The rest of the time, our wounds self-heal, though we're not exempt from the pain and the healing process isn't pain-free either."
"Wow, good to know…" Ophelia exhaled, and Marko chuckled. She rose from her spot on the dais, frowning down at her heavy dress. "How am I supposed to be expected to practice combat in this bloody dress?"
"We don't have specific combat clothes for women in the Underworld, well at least this kingdom doesn't," Marko shrugged apologetically.
Ophelia experienced the metaphorical light-bulb moment and called for her lady in waiting. "Ellie!"
"Yes my lady?" Ellie appeared in the room seconds later.
"Man, I wish I could do that," Paul pouted, sheathing his sword.
"You can fly, is that not enough?" Ellie countered teasingly.
"You know me doll-face, I'm not easily satisfied," he winked and Ophelia couldn't help but notice the spark of chemistry between her guard and her lady in waiting.
"Hmmm… I believe the majority of the palace concubines are aware of that Paul," she countered breezily.
"What can I say angel, I'm insatiable," he grinned.
"If you two have finished flirting…" Ophelia smirked eyeing the pair suspiciously while Marko snickered.
"Forgive me my lady, I momentarily forgot myself, how can I be of service?"
"I was wondering if you could work your magic and turn this dress into clothes that I can actually move in," Ophelia sighed, tugging at the weighty skirt.
"Of course," Ellie beamed, conjuring a crystal and with a flick of her wrist, sent the crystal whizzing in Ophelia's direction where it popped against her stomach. When she looked down at herself, the dress she'd worn only seconds ago was replaced by a pair of leather pants and a white cotton peasant blouse, her feet bare.
"Well, doesn't the queen look ravishing this morning-" a playful voice spoke as the door to the ballroom swung open, "-I do hope that I don't become distracted," Ezra winked, looking her over with an arched brow.
"I'm sure you've either already noticed Ophelia, or you'll come to learn rather swiftly, that the majority of the men in this castle are scoundrels," Ellie smirked, folding her arms over her chest.
"Those weren't the words tumbling from your appealingly parted lips as you writhed beneath me, turtledove," Ezra crooned, caressing the ends of Ellie's rose gold hair.
"You're a pig Ezranyx," Ellie scoffed, vanishing from the room.
"She loves me really," Ezra smirked while Ophelia rolled her eyes, a smirk of amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. Ophelia noticed that Ezra wasn't wearing the glossy black regalia she usually saw him wearing, rather he was sporting a pair of black ankle cuff pants and a crimson and black tunic with a high collar.
"You look different," she mused, tilting her head curiously.
"I'm off the clock for the day, old blue eyes gave me the day off as a thank you for teaching his beloved how to properly wield a sword - though I'm sure judging by the way the king has been strutting around the palace of late, that the queen is already well acquainted with such a skill," Ezra drawled suggestively.
Paul cackled a laugh and Marko looked away, clearly trying to stifle his laughter.
"And I don't doubt the king's word that you're a professional swordsman as I'm sure you've spend a considerable amount of time stroking your precious weapon," Ophelia countered, planting her hands on her hips.
Ezra barked a laugh. "Touché mademoiselle," he conceded with a grin, flashing his perfect white teeth.
"Tranquil as a forest but on fire, within. Once you find your centre, you are sure to win. You're a spineless, pale, pathetic lot and you haven't got a clue – somehow I'll make a man, out of yooou…" Paul sang, circling Ophelia and Ezra as they duelled, though Ophelia was finding it hard to keep a tight grip on the handle of her sword purely from the weight of it and it didn't help that she was finding it a struggle not to laugh with Paul's unprompted sing-along.
"Paul stooop," she giggled, squealing girlishly when the blade of Ezra's sword clashed with her own, knocking her off kilter.
"We must be swift as a coursing ri-ver, with all the force of a great typhoon, with all the strength of a raging fire… mysterious as the dark side of the moooooon," he warbled just as Ezra came at her with a rather vicious attack, knocking the sword from her hand and herself on her arse.
Ophelia hit the floor with a heavy thump and a giggle, flopping onto her back in defeat. "Stick a fork in me, I'm done," she held up her hands.
"You can't just flop on the floor and concede defeat after five minutes your highness, what if you are in battle with a man? The brute would climb right on top of you and have his wicked way," Ezra chuckled.
"Just because that would be something you'd do, doesn't mean every man would," Ophelia countered, taking Marko's hand as he pulled her back onto her feet.
"I'd do no such thing-" Ezra smirked, "-I don't need to force myself on a woman, they willingly fall at my feet."
"I'm sure honeyed words and promises of the world are used as bait, I doubt you'd get very far on your personality alone," Ophelia retorted and Marko snorted.
"You wound me my queen," Ezra stated, clutching his chest dramatically.
"Shame she wouldn't physically wound you - you can't swing a sword for shit babes," Paul tisked, swinging his arm around her shoulder.
"It's heavy," Ophelia pouted, rubbing her aching arms.
"N'aaww I'm gonna start calling you princess peach, you fucking marshmallow," Paul teased, prodding her ribs.
"Hey, I might not be able to use a sword but I'll still kick your ass," Ophelia countered playfully.
"Oh yeah? Bring it on queenie-" Paul beckoned, holding out his arms, "-hit me with your best shot."
Ophelia lunged forward in a bid to tackle him but found her arms wrapping around thin air, leaving her stumbling forward. With a scowl she spun around, finding Paul stood cockily behind her. She leapt forward once again and Paul sprung backwards, landing three feet away. "You're cheating," she groused, folding her arms over her chest.
"Nah, you're just a sore loser," Paul stuck out his tongue.
"You're not strategizing Ophelia, you're not using your head, you're making the obvious moves-" Marko stated, "-look, a fight is all about countering your opponent's moves, right? Think of it as a game of chess, one wrong move and it's check-mate. You need to use your mind as well as your body."
"But I don't know how to do that, I've never had a fight in my life, I'm not sure I can even punch someone hard enough for it to hurt," Ophelia frowned, feeling inferior.
"How about we demonstrate?" Ezra offered.
"You mean two of you have an actual fight?" Ophelia shook her head incredulously.
"Babes we do it all the time, it's part of our training as guards. Do you know how many times Marko's kicked my ass?-" Paul huffed a laugh, "-but it's fine, we heal really quickly and there's no animosity between us."
"Only this time, I'm going to be kicking Marko's ass," Ezra grinned.
Marko huffed a laugh. "It's on man," he nodded as the two of them moved to the middle of the room while Paul pulled Ophelia down to sit beside him on the floor, their legs kicked out as they leant against the wall.
Ophelia watched with morbid fascination as Ezra reeled back his arm and swung his fist at Marko's jaw, the crunch of knuckles against bone echoing around the hall as blood spurted like a death fountain from Marko's mouth. Marko reflexively grabbed Ezra by his collar and launched him across the room, sending him flailing through the air where he crashed with a deafening crash against the stone wall, a shower of crumbling rock raining down on his prostrate body and Ophelia gasped in horrified aware – that had to hurt.
Ezra hauled himself to his feet while Marko took a running sprint at him, swinging his fist towards Ezra's face. Ezra caught his fist and twisted his arm up his back, snapping his bone like a twig. Marko growled in pain, cradling his arm against his chest as he swept his foot back, sweeping Ezra's feet out from beneath him. Ezra was quick to react, landing on his haunches before springing back up to land a hard kick to the back of Marko's knees, sending him hurtling to the floor.
"Bloody hell," Ophelia winced, covering her face with her hands.
"Don't worry Phee, Marko will heal," Paul assured her, hugging her into his side.
"But that's gotta hurt, right?"
"Fuck, yeah," Paul grimaced.
Marko managed to twist his body and with his back braced on the floor, he brought his legs up and landed a solid uppercut with the heel of his boot to Ezra's chin. Ezra flailed backwards through the air before righting himself, landing graciously back on his feet as Marko staggered to his feet, circling his neck and stretching out his arm as his bones knitted back together. Out of nowhere, Ezra launched himself through the air, landing a flying kick direct to Marko's chest, sending him rocketing into the opposite wall where he hit the solid stone with a wet thud before slumping to the floor in a heap.
"Stop, stop, stop," Ophelia hauled herself up from the floor, running over to where Marko sat slumped in a daze.
"Phee I told you he'll be fine," Paul followed her.
"Doesn't mean I want to watch anymore of it," Ophelia countered, offering Marko her hand as he pulled himself to his feet where within moments he was perfectly fine, no sign of injury anywhere on his body.
"Impressive," Marko praised his fellow guard with an arched brow.
"Told you I'd kick your ass," Ezra smirked smugly.
The king reclined on his bed, the tension in the throne room during court had been stifling - you could have cut it with a knife. Solomon was struggling to rein in his explosive temper each time Jareth made derogatory comments or spouted false accusations about the Demon King to the rest of the court. David had to warn the haughty, little prat on more than one occasion that if his disruptive behaviour continued then he'd be ejected without hesitation. David's threats obviously hadn't settled well with the arrogant fae king judging by the hatred burning in his predatory, mis-matched eyes. Thus, the king was exhausted from keeping a lid on his own volatile temper and was in need of his queen. He was in desperate need of an outlet for the energy he could feel setting his skin on fire.
He felt himself stiffen and exhaled sharply – perhaps now was the perfect time to give his queen another lesson in obedience. It was fast approaching dusk in the Overworld and seen as he'd be preoccupied for the night, he wanted to take the opportunity to enjoy the pleasures of his loves flesh, needing to tame the fire that had been blazing within him since that morning.
'Paul, please escort the queen to our chambers,' David communicated, wincing as he adjusted the painful bulge straining against the crotch of his pants.
Five minutes later, Ophelia padded into the room wearing an outfit that he was pretty sure his queen had Ellie conjure for her. Just another act of disobedience on behalf of his queen. He didn't want her alluring figure flaunted before his men, her body was for his eyes only and the thought of another man leering over her pert, pear-shaped rear and ample bosom made his insides burn with jealousy. David reclined against the headboard, his expression calculating, the smirk tugging at his lips cunning as Ophelia stepped into the bedroom. "You called sire?" she purred.
The king beckoned her to the bed, his pointer finger curling enticingly as his eyes danced with desire. Ophelia perched beside him on the bed, transfixed by the intensity of his gaze, unable to tear her eyes way from the midnight blue of his irises. "Does her majesty not know how to follow orders? Does she pay no attention in her etiquette lessons? Is her only mission to keep pushing the boundaries of her king's patience for such blatant disobedience," David drawled, his finger trailing from her jugular notch down between her breasts.
"Remind me my liege, which orders I happened to have been unable to follow on this occasion?" Ophelia quirked her eyebrow innocently.
"The orders for you to act like the future high queen my darling Ophelia. Initiating a food fight over breakfast is neither becoming of a queen or a lady and currently you are breaking every rule in regard to the queen's attire. Such clothing is not befitting of a woman of your status and it is far too revealing for my tastes. The queen is to dress modestly in order to preserve her beauty for the king's eyes only, not flaunt her mouth-watering curves in tight pants and low-cut shirts-" he tugged the waistband of her pants, "-but alas, once again my queen has chosen the path of disobedience-" he sighed exaggeratedly, "-and for that, she must be punished," he added with a sly smirk.
David's desire burned hotter than the fire of a thousand suns when he scented Ophelia's arousal. The sweet, perfume of her blood flooded his senses and his cock throbbed, yearning to bury deep in her warm, wet heat. "My queen needs to learn the error of her rebellious ways and I will continue to punish her with strict lessons in obedience until she finally submits to following orders-" he smirked, ghosting his lips across her jaw, "-on your feet," he added, swatting her ass lightly.
Ophelia chewed her bottom lip sexily as she rose to stand beside the bed and David had to fight the urge to take her full, plump lip between his own teeth. "Would you be so kind as to remove those rebellious clothes beloved, I'm rather keen to view the beautiful body beneath."
The king heard Ophelia's pulse race, her blood rushing through her veins while the overwhelming scent of her blood left him feeling dazed. Heeding his instruction, Ophelia slowly started to peel off her clothes, removing one item at a time until they lay in a puddle by her feet. David's eyes roamed salaciously over her body from head to foot, biting his lip before exhaling sharply. "Come," he beckoned, gesturing to the side of the bed where he reclined and his queen obediently complied.
"Place your hands behind your back, one hand holding the opposite wrist."
David stifled the groan he could feel building at the back of his throat when the action of holding her hands behind her back subsequently pushed Ophelia's breasts outward, so much so that he could see her sensitive buds pucker with every caress of his breath.
"Stand with your feet shoulder width apart," he commanded, his voice deep and husky, the power behind it sending shiver's racing down Ophelia's spine.
She parted her feet, thus parting her legs, her body jerking when David slid two fingers between her thighs, his eyes hooded as he drew his fingers back, bringing the slick soaked pads to his lips and slid them into his mouth. David groaned, his eyes fluttering closed – his queen was sweeter than even the finest honey. When his eyes opened, he fixed Ophelia with a dark, predatory look, noting the way her breath hitched and the scent of her arousal increased.
His queen was unable to stifle her whimper of pleasure when he parted her folds with two fingers while his thumb teased slow, deliberate circles over the sensitive bud hidden between them. Remnants of her desire trickled down her thighs as he continued his slow, sensual assault on her swollen bud, her body jerking and her legs trembling as her skin became flushed with heat. David withdrew his hand, positioning himself on his knees.
"I want you to kneel on the bed in front of me, part your knees wide and keep your hands behind your back," he instructed.
Ophelia swallowed, the sound of her rapidly beating heart like music to his ears as she clambered onto the bed, positioning herself the way he'd described, exposing herself to him - presenting her luscious body to him and him alone. "Stay," he smirked wickedly, his eyes wandering hungrily over her body.
Ophelia's lip once again found its way between her teeth –if only she knew what such an action did to him- watching him with eyes hooded with desire as he pushed down his pants just enough to expose his pulsing, rock-hard erection.
"You're the one that ignites the fire in my soul my queen. I worship the very ground that you walk on-" he wrapped his fist around his cock, slowly stroking himself, "-you have no idea what you do to me my darling Ophelia. I'm a man in chains, chained to you and everything that you are," his breath caught in his throat as he squeezed the tip of his cock in his fist.
"From your eyes that glitter like the most opulent Emeralds and your hair like melted milk chocolate that falls in soft curls over your shoulders. Your breasts, so perfect and petal soft beneath my tongue. The hour-glass curve of your waist that smooths into wide, luxurious hips. Right down to the glorious curves of your ass and the warm, wet heat between your thighs that tastes sweeter than any exotic fruit. Everything you are calls to me Ophelia, your body, your heart, your soul, your mind," he groaned lowly, his head hanging down towards his chest when he gave two tight, slow strokes.
"So much adoration and reverence I hold for you my queen and I can't even convince you to heed my request for you to follow the rules - not even for me."
"I'm sorry my king," Ophelia murmured coquettishly, her chest rising and falling in time with her uneven breaths. David visibly shuddered, releasing his hold on himself in favour of prowling closer to where she knelt, her body on full display.
"Most gracious of you sweet one-" he drawled sexily, covering her breast with his mouth, coaxing a breathy moan, "-now, let's see if you truly are sorry or you just wish to appease me – do not move," he smirked sucking and teasing her breast whilst he cupped the other, rolling her pebbled nub between his fingers.
Melting under the rolling waves of pleasure, Ophelia's arms begun to shake, threatening to knock her off-balance. "Lean back on your forearms starlight," David crooned, his lips busy cruising the soft slope of her stomach. Ophelia immediately dropped her weight onto her forearms, leaving her in a much more exposed position than previously. Her feet were still tucked up beneath her rear whilst her legs were spread wide, giving the king the perfect view of the honeyed juices that continued to drench her folds and trickle down her thighs.
Ophelia's moans were followed by a succession of needy whimpers when David's lips and tongue moved further south. He sucked and tongued her slit, lapping at the continuous waterfall of saccharine juices before trailing his tongue up and down her thighs, relishing the taste of her desire with every flick and swirl of his skilled tongue.
David's mouth covered her sensitive bud, alternating the pressure, leaving her squirming in place, climbing ever closer to her release but unable to fall and let go.
"David please…" she begged, her voice barely a whisper.
"What is it you need my queen?"
"I-" he teased her slit with his fingers and she seemingly lost track of what she was asking for.
"Sorry sweet one, I didn't quite hear you."
"Make love to me, please?" she panted, her body trembling.
"Ophelia…" David breathed almost inaudibly, gently guiding her legs out from beneath her and untucked her arms from behind her back. The king and his queen moaned in tandem as he slowly entered her, burying himself right to the hilt as he pinned one hand above her head, their fingers entwined in a tight fist. Ophelia's free hand reached to comb through his hair as his lips skimmed her collarbone, snaking their way up the length of her neck to reach her lips.
Their moans became muffled by a desperate kiss, their bodies joined in an act that ran so much deeper than sex. Ophelia lost herself in every roll of the king's hips, in every stroke of his delicious cock against her sweet spot until she found the release that didn't seem to want to end. Her inner walls squeezed and tightened around him repeatedly as she rode the waves of an intense orgasm and it wasn't long before David followed, driving one last deep thrust and spilling his seed.
"Please be safe and don't forget my pizza," Ophelia smiled, embracing the king as he prepared himself to leave for the Overworld.
Seeing him dressed in the heavy wool military jacket brought back memories of their first meeting and the night that felt so long ago now…
"I won't my love-" he smiled, kissing her forehead, "-please behave while I'm gone, don't give Dwayne too much grief."
"I make no promises-" she teased, softly kissing his lips, "-I love you."
"I love you too Ophelia," he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way she adored.
"Barf," Paul faux retched and both Marko and Dwayne snickered.
David ignored Paul's immature comment and turned his attention to the young boy hovering beside Ophelia. "Am I to assume that you will be on your best behaviour?" he quirked his brow.
Jeremiah nodded, his smile innocent. "I will, I promise."
"Good boy," David smiled warmly, ruffling his hair, eliciting a childish giggle. "Thank you," he patted Dwayne's shoulder as he passed with Paul and Marko in tow, the trio disappearing from the room.
"And then there were three," Ophelia grinned.
"Don't give me that look, I'm under strict orders," Dwayne smirked, folding his arms over his broad chest.
"Boooo," Ophelia stuck out her tongue and Dwayne chuckled.
"Phelia, can we go see Frankie?" Jeremiah peered up at her with pleading eyes. Ophelia had let Jeremiah name the baby wild rabbit she'd found the day by the lake, he loved going out to the gardens to watch the fluffy bunny hop around, sometimes even taking it treats.
"I don't know honey, it's up to Dwayne – apparently he's in charge," Ophelia smirked.
"Dwayne please can we go see him, please, please, please?" Jeremiah begged, tugging on the hem of the brooding vampires shirt.
Dwayne rolled his eyes with a smile. "Fine we can go," he sighed exaggeratedly and Jeremiah squealed with glee.
"You marshmallow," Ophelia teased, and Dwayne chuckled, ushering them out of the throne room.
Ophelia and Dwayne sat crossed legged in the meadow watching Jeremiah frolic with Frankie, his cute, childish giggles ringing in the calm night air. Ophelia sighed contently, peering up at the blanket of twinkling star's overhead, the moon hanging full and low, casting silvery light between shadows. "Dwayne?" Ophelia murmured.
"Hmm?" he hummed in response, picking at the blades of grass by his boot-clad feet.
"What's the story with you and David?" she asked curiously. Dwayne was definitely favoured by the king, he was allowed to speak freely, he wasn't always reminded to call him by his royal title and he often made inappropriate remarks that anyone else would receive a bollocking for.
Dwayne's soulful brown eyes flashed with sorrow and Ophelia was instantly hit with guilt. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me, perhaps that was too much of a personal question…" she back-tracked, averting her eyes shamefully.
"No, it isn't... I mean it is in a way but I don't mind talking to you about it," Dwayne assured her, drawing his knee towards his chest, hugging his shin.
"It's just you and David seem so close, he doesn't necessarily treat you solely like an advisor, I guess your relationship intrigues me…"
"Yeah, we're very close," Dwayne nodded with a warm smile.
"Basically, my father used to be a close friend to David's father Demetri, in fact much like Marko is now, he was head guard to the king and queen. One night when the veil was lifted between worlds, he accompanied the king and queen to the Overworld and that's when he met my mother. Demetri permitted my father to bring my mom back to the palace on the pretence that she would be the queen's lady in waiting. Anyway, to make a long story short, my mom finds out she was pregnant soon after and nine months later I make an appearance only-" Dwayne exhaled, staring off at a patch of wildflowers.
"-Only there was a complication during labour and my mom didn't survive, she was still human and the healer wasn't able to figure out what was happening with her in order to fix it. I don't remember much about my childhood but I do remember David. His mother Sophia used to take care of me while my dad was on duty and we used to play together. I think I once tried to brain him with a wooden block because I got jealous when his tower was taller than mine," Dwayne huffed a laugh, his eyes flickering nostalgically and Ophelia smiled, squeezing his knee.
"I remember hitting him but he didn't retaliate, he just sat there and cried before hugging me and helping me build a bigger tower-" Dwayne smiled nostalgically, "-see that's the kind of guy I know David is, he's kind, loving and so fucking selfless, he's not the guy you met that night back in Santa Carla…"
"I know," Ophelia smiled, her heart flooding with warmth.
"Anyway back to the story - a war broke out between the Goblin Kingdom and our kingdom, this was when that arrogant prats father was king - who was just as arrogant and priggish as his son by the way. My dad ended up getting killed in battle, he took a rogue arrow to the heart and that was it, game over," Dwayne swallowed, his eyes brimming with emotion.
"I was too young to fully understand what had happened at the time but I remember knowing that I didn't have anyone anymore and that's when Sophia and Demetri adopted me, I was pretty much always with them anyway but I don't know, it felt different somehow. I grew up with David, we fought like brothers, we laughed like best friends and no matter what, we always had each other's back. I sat in on David's royal lessons, you know like the ones you're going through? I would never be king, but Sophia didn't want me to feel left out so I got to sit in. David was a little shit-" Dwayne chuckled, "-he used to have his lessons with Drake and Solomon, you know who I'm talking about right?"
Ophelia nodded.
"Well those three together pretty much drove Alexandria to insanity, I felt sorry for the dude-" Dwayne smiled, "-when Sophia and Demetri died, David was drowning in grief, he was still just a kid but down here he was considered of age and he had no choice but to take on the responsibility of kingship. He begged me to be his advisor and of course I'd never refuse, I wanted to help him in any way that I could but overtime he grew distant and cold. Angry and callous. He wasn't the guy I grew up with. I took his beatings, I held him when he got drunk and cried, I never gave up on him like he gave up on himself. We might not share the same blood but in my heart, he's my brother."
Ophelia felt her eyes brim with tears. "I guess the three of us all share something in common with one another," she swallowed, recalling her own recently lost parents.
"Yeah-" Dwayne sighed sadly, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand, "-but that's why I'm so glad that it was you that was fated for David. You have a heart much like him, you can understand his pain, you don't write him off like everyone else. I can't believe how much he's changed in such a short amount of time, it's good to see my best friend actually smiling again and it's all down to you Ophelia."
Ophelia felt herself blush and shyly averted her eyes. "Don't talk wet," she murmured, and Dwayne chuckled, playfully nudging her shoulder.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?-" a familiar voice chimed from behind them and Ophelia turned, looking up to find Ezra grinning down at her. "-whilst the cats away, the little mouse doth play," he winked.
"Excuse me but just what are you implying?" Ophelia planted her hands on her hips with a scowl.
"You don't know?" Ezra smirked, pulling a carton of cigarettes from the pocket of his pants.
"Know what?" she frowned.
"Ezra, shut up," Dwayne chuckled.
"Smoke?" he offered the pair.
"No thanks," Ophelia shook her head while Dwayne accepted the offering.
Ezra ran the flame of a heavy silver lighter beneath the tip of his cigarette, repeating the action with the cigarette hanging loosely from Dwayne's lips before turning his attention back to her with a sly smirk. "It would seem his majesty only told you the rules that he wanted you to know…"
"What do you mean?" Ophelia furrowed her brow, hauling herself to her feet, her neck aching from craning so far up.
"As a rule within all kingdoms, the king or queen may invite any of those who work for them of their choosing to bed," he grinned wolfishly.
"Shut up-" Ophelia scoffed, "-you're talking out of your arse."
"Oh my sweet summer child, I do not jest - I would not tell you something that was not of benefit," Ezra winked and Ophelia gasped in outrage.
"So you were implying that I was canoodling with Dwayne whilst the king was away?"
Ezra shrugged. "There's no shame in it my lady, it is a rule after all."
"You're twisted, I love David, I'd never do that," she pouted, backing away from the grinning pair.
Ophelia's body was suddenly bathed in static as a resounding crack of electricity rendered her momentarily deaf. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as her back hit something hard and rigid and her eyes grew wide when she saw Dwayne and Ezra both reach for their weapons at the same time as an unfamiliar arm wrapped around her waist in a vice like grip while something sharp prodded the exposed skin of her neck. "Come, come now boys, you wouldn't want to do something silly that could result in the death of your beloved future queen would you?" a familiar, haughty lilt sneered against her ear and she felt her blood turn to ice.
Jareth.
Trying not to panic, she caught sight of Jeremiah, frozen in fear by one of the nearby rockeries and she prayed that he didn't move, that he didn't bring attention to himself. To her left, out of her periphery she could see Viktor and Blaize creeping down the path from the castle, their weapons drawn as they navigated the shadows of the garden with predatory ease. "Let her go Goblin King, your dispute is with the king, not his queen," Dwayne snarled, his eyes flashing crimson.
"Ah but she is not yet his queen, nor is she yet his to claim ownership of. There is no betrothal, thus she could merely be a pert set of breasts and an ample arse to warm his bed of an evening," Jareth countered and Ophelia winced when the sharp point of whatever Jareth was holding against her neck dug further into her skin. "I can't say I blame him, her arse is quite magnificent," he chuckled darkly and a guttural growth ripped from Dwayne's chest.
"What is it you want Jareth? You name it and you can have it, just let her go," Ezra bargained, holding his hands out in a sign of peace.
Ophelia remembered what Marko had told her earlier, that being that a fight was like a game of chess, one wrong move and it was check-mate. She could see the restraint on both Ezra and Dwayne's faces, their eyes were blazing with fury but neither of them were willing to strike and risk the game being over.
"The time for bargaining is over. I warned his immortal majesty that he'd know how it feels to have what is his taken away and here we are. Let it be known that I do not go back on my word-" Jareth sneered, "-and if those two fools take one more step down that blasted path I will slit her throat and leave you to bathe in her blood," he snapped and she saw both Viktor and Blaize freeze.
Ophelia could feel tears born of terror sting her eyes. They were powerless to do anything. If they made a move she'd die and if they didn't, well perhaps she'd die anyway just not in front of them.
"Now precious, we're about to take a little trip, I must warn you that the first time may leave you nauseous," he crooned, stroking her sternum with a gloved hand.
"NO!" a deafening roar shook the very ground she stood on as she watched in horror as both Dwayne and Ezra drew their daggers in a movement quicker than the speed of light and launched them in a projectile path towards Jareth's eyes only for the daggers to hit an invisible shield and ricochet back towards them at speed.
"Jeremiah no!" Ophelia screamed as the little boy ran in fear towards the palace, his body slumping to the floor in a motionless heap seconds later with an iron dagger protruding from his neck. Another deafening roar of pain joined her horrified screams as Dwayne dropped to the ground, his body convulsing as the second dagger lodged in his chest directly over his heart.
Ezra launched himself at Jareth, his eyes ablaze and his fangs bared only for Jareth to laugh darkly before a crack of electricity and a rush of motion turned Ophelia's world black.
"Fuck!" Ezra screamed in frustration and rage, spinning on his heel as he sprinted to where Dwayne lay, his body convulsing violently as blood spurted from the wound in his chest. "OMARION!" Ezra roared as Viktor and Blaize hurtled down the path, coming to a skidding stop on their knee's beside Dwayne.
"Oh fuck," Blaize dragged his hands down his face, his eyes roving to the tiny body slumped motionless in the grass a few feet away. "What the fuck do we do? The king is going to tear this fucking palace apart!"
"Shut up!-" Ezra snarled, "-just fucking shut up!" he panicked, feeling himself on the verge of tears. "Just hold on man, don't you dare fucking die on me," he whispered, gripping Dwayne's spasming arm.
"What the hell?" Omarion's confused voice snapped Ezra out of his bubble of panic.
"You have to do something, you can't let him die," he rambled, gesturing to the gushing wound in his close friends chest.
"All of you move back, I need space," Omarion ordered, his eyes flashing with sorrow when he caught sight of Jeremiah's lifeless body.
Ezra staggered to his feet, running a hand through his hair as Riyadh, Angelo and Caius came sprinting out of the doors to the palace, their weapons drawn. "We heard screaming, what the hell is happening?" Riyadh demanded, only to freeze when he saw Dwayne's writhing body and Jeremiah's corpse. "Where's the queen?" he panicked, spinning in a dazed circle.
"That bastard took her. We tried to stop him but he used some kind of shield, the daggers deflected and well… fucking look for yourself!" Ezra sank to his knees, his head in his hands. "I failed her, I failed the king… his majesty isn't going to forgive me not if he loses his brother and his love, it will be enough for him to lose the boy!" he exhaled shakily, his shoulders sagging with grief.
"Stop - you need to pull yourself together Ezranyx," Caius shook his friends shoulders.
"I'm going to find the king, do not let him die," Riyadh barked at the palace healer before he sprinted like a bat out of hell towards the palace, heading straight for the veil.
A searing, white-hot pain ripped through the king's chest and he growled in discomfort as the drained corpse he was holding slipped from his hands and the king doubled over, his hands braced on his knee's as he fought through the agonising pain that felt his insides were being torn apart. "Sire, are you OK?" Marko asked, his blood splattered boots entering David's blurred vision.
"I don't know," he panted, clutching his chest as he struggled to straighten himself out.
Something was wrong, he could feel it in every nerve of his body.
"Well the good news is you're not having a heart attack-" Paul chimed, "-and it probably isn't indigestion either."
David huffed a laugh, trying to shake off the feeling of dread he could feel creeping over him. No, there was nothing wrong, Dwayne would have contacted him if there was something wrong with Ophelia.
"Thanks for those pearls of wisdom Paul," David joked, rubbing his sternum.
"Anytime your majesty," Paul grinned, tossing the mutilated organ he held in his hand to the floor.
"Sire!" a familiar voice called out and David frowned, turning to find Riyadh one of his long-serving guards sprinting in his direction. "Sire you need to come back to the palace," he panted, his eyes wild with panic.
David's stomach dropped to his knees. "Why what's happened?" he croaked, feeling a lump form at the back of his throat.
"The Goblin King, he took Ophelia-"
David didn't hear the rest of what his guard was telling him, all he could hear was a loud buzzing drone in his mind, his whole world shifting off-kilter leaving him feeling like he was about to fall.
"Your majesty?" Marko's voice broke through the incessant buzzing and he looked at his friend through misty eyes. "David," Marko shook his shoulder, his brows furrowed in concern.
"Sire we must leave," he heard Riyadh urge.
"Dude I think he's in shock or something," Paul frowned, waving his hand in front of the king's face.
"Dwayne-" David snapped out of his daze, "-Dwayne where's Dwayne?!" he demanded, feeling panic rise.
Surely it should have been Dwayne that came to find him, why wasn't he here?
"He-" Riyadh glanced at Marko and Paul, his expression helpless, "-sire he was wounded, possibly fatally."
Both Marko and Paul stiffened and David shook his head in disbelief. "No, no, no, no…" he murmured, staggering over the scattered bodies by his feet before launching himself into the air.
David landed by the entrance of the cave, stumbling and tripping down the incline as he felt vomit rising in his throat. He could hear the heavy footsteps of Riyadh, Marko and Paul behind him but it brought him no comfort, the thought of losing either of the two people most beloved to him was tearing him apart at the seams and by the time he fell through the veil, he could barely breathe and the pain his chest was about to bring him to his knees.
He sprinted through the palace halls, hearing the commotion around him as guards and staff rallied around, trying to make sense of what was happening but he couldn't focus on anything other than his need to be with his brother. "Where is he?" David roared when he spotted Viktor and Blaize stood sentry by the door to the palace garden.
"In the meadow sire," Blaize swallowed, his expression bleak. David sprinted down the pathway with Marko and Paul both hot on his heels. He saw Ezra knelt by a convulsing figure sprawled in the grass with Omarion, hovering over the body, his brows knitted in concentration. A strangled sound of grief escaped the king as he caught sight of the tiny body slumped lifelessly in the grass a few feet away from where his brother lay dying, the handle of an iron dagger protruding from the child's neck, the grass around him dyed red.
David fell to his knees beside his best friend, clamping his hand over his mouth in despair when he saw the dagger was lodged in the left side of Dwayne's chest – his heart. In a fit of grief, David launched himself at the palace healer, gripping him by the scruff of neck. "Do something, he's dying!-" David roared, aggressively shaking the scrawny fae, "-if he dies then so do you!" he snarled.
"David, stop, he's trying his best," Marko murmured, forcing the king to release his hold on the fae, dragging him back.
"Get off of me!" David roared, shoving Marko away as he scrambled back to where Dwayne lay. He cupped Dwayne's face in his hands, resting his forehead against his brow, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Don't leave me brother, I need you, I can't do this alone, I can't do this without you," he whispered.
"David, what do we do about Ophelia?" Paul asked and David felt his grief heighten, so much so that he could feel his cheeks grow wet with his tears.
"I don't know, I don't know what to do," he croaked, his shoulder's shaking.
He needed Dwayne, Dwayne would know what to do.
The king felt helpless. He didn't have the ability to teleport into the castle itself, he'd have to approach the gates or try and fly over the labyrinth but he knew Jareth had both the labyrinth and surrounding area warded against intruders. He needed a plan and formulating a plan would take time and time was what he didn't have.
He needed to get his queen back before Jareth had to time to enact his sadistic fantasies on her.
"Your majesty, I need to remove the dagger to try and heal the internal wound," Omarion broke him out of his internal despair.
"Do it, do anything you need to do to save him," David pleaded, uncaring that his face was stained with tears. He didn't give a damn what anyone thought of him, his love for Dwayne and Ophelia ran deeper than his pride.
"Your majesty you know I will do my all to save him but there is a risk that the wound is too deep, there is a risk that removing the dagger will be fatal," Omarion explained, his eyes full of sorrow.
A stray sob escaped him and he felt two hands clamp around his shoulders as both Marko and Paul knelt beside him. "You have to try - please just try," the king uttered, his eyes trained on his best friends ashen face. "Ezra, call for King Solomon, he's the only one amongst us who can infiltrate the Goblin King's castle undetected," David ordered during a brief moment of clarity.
"Yes sire," Ezra nodded, hauling himself to his feet.
David watched with his heart in his mouth as Omarion gripped the handle of the dagger and pulled, releasing the iron blade from Dwayne's chest. Dwayne's eyes shot open and he roared in pain, his body convulsing in agony as his hands palmed the blood slick ground beneath him. Paul covered his face with his hands while Marko turned away, the two of them unable to watch the agonising display. David caught Dwayne's hand and Dwayne's head snapped to the side, his brown eyes flashing crimson as his back arched before his body slammed against the floor, all the while Omarion was struggling to heal the wound. "You have to fight brother," David pleaded, his eyes trained on those of the man he shared a deep kindred connection with.
"Ophelia-" Dwayne choked, "-forgive me brother…" he rasped before his body grew still, his eyes fluttering closed.
"Dwayne?-" David panicked, "-Omarion, why is he not moving?"
"Sire his body has shut down in order to heal, I managed to heal the wound to his heart as it was only a slight tear, now all we can do is wait for him to wake," Omarion stated sadly.
"He's not dead?" Paul croaked, his voice thick with emotion.
"No-" Omarion clarified, "-he's in a coma of sorts."
David's shoulders sagged with relief and he leant forward, resting his head on Dwayne's still chest, wishing that he'd wake up and tell him what the hell he should do and perhaps so that he could kick his ass for scaring him so badly.
"He needs to be moved to the infirmary where I can observe his progress," Omarion stated and David reluctantly sat back on his heels.
"Marko, please take him to the infirmary, I'll be up shortly," David instructed, running a bloodied hand through his hair.
"Sire, what should we do with Jeremiah?" Paul murmured.
"Take him to the palace cemetery, he deserves a burial," David replied, crouching by the young boys body, stroking his hair affectionately before turning away, unable to support the sight any longer.
"Your majesty, King Solomon is awaiting you in the throne room," Ezra informed him.
"Let's go, I need you to tell me exactly what happened," David dragged his hands down his face, forcing his legs to carry him back into the palace.
Ophelia shot bolt upright when a deafening bang ripped her from the dark abyss she'd fallen into only to find she wasn't alone. The Goblin King himself stood by a dented steel door, his piercing mis-matched eyes fixed on her with a mixture of amusement and hatred, the dark flicker in his eyes promising immense pain. She could literally feel his rage shrouding her in cold, slimy tendrils. Ophelia whimpered in fear, backing herself up against the corner of the room, wincing when a jutting rock dug into her lower back, prodding her kidneys.
She took a moment to survey her surroundings in an attempt to figure out where in the castle she could be. The walls were grey stone, glistening with slime, the cracks home to thick cobwebs with the only light coming from a torch burning by the door. The floor was dusty, covered in a thick layer of grime with dark, foreboding stains covering various spots. In the middle of the room hung two rusting metal chains sporting heavy cuffs, the chains bolted to the rocky ceiling. The air smelt musty and damp with a lingering odour of death and decay.
She was pretty sure she was in some kind of dungeon.
Ophelia tucked her knees against her chest, her heart pounding like the frenzied thrash of drums. Flashbacks of what brought her there replayed in her mind like a vivid nightmare. The feel of something sharp digging into her neck. The sound of Dwayne's roars of pain as the dagger pierced his heart. The sight of Jeremiah slumped lifeless in a pool of his own blood. She felt the familiar sting of tears building at the backs of her eyes, wishing that the ground would open and swallow her whole.
"On your feet," Jareth ordered but Ophelia couldn't get her legs to work, they felt liquified, useless.
When she made no move to comply with his orders he lunged towards her with a speed that took her breath away, fisting a clump of hair in his hand and yanked her to her feet. "I said on your feet precious," he hissed and Ophelia whimpered, her scalp burning from his unyielding grip as silent tears trickled down her cheeks. He shoved her forward, releasing his grip on her hair and she stumbled a few steps before she managed to right herself. "Do you know why you're here precious?" Jareth inquired, circling her like a ravenous predator stalking its prey. Ophelia shook her head, she was making herself dizzy spinning to track his movements and with a keen unwillingness to turn her back on him, she retreated back into the corner.
"Come now precious, I'm sure you know you cannot lie to me-" Jareth smirked, bracing his hands either side of her head, blocking her in, "-I know it was you that solved the issue of my little land dispute with Travis-" he mused, toying with the ends of her hair, "-or at least you thought you solved it."
"The proof was in the book, it was tangible historical evidence," Ophelia argued incredulous.
Jareth slammed the palm of his hand against the wall beside her head and she flinched. "That book is wrong! That land is mine! I won it fair and square during the war – I don't need some deceitful historical record to tell me what I know, I was there precious, it was my army storming that land not your dearly beloved."
"I'm sure if you told the king that, he'd have taken it into consideration," Ophelia bartered.
Jareth barked a laugh, the sound turning her blood to ice. "Oh you're just positively delightful aren't you precious? So willing to look past all his majesties deficiencies. Such a soft heart that beats within your bosom Ophelia. It seems such a shame to break such a joyful spirit but unfortunately, I made a promise to your precious king and I am a man of my word. An eye for an eye and all that," he grinned, flashing his pointed teeth.
"Why do you hate him so much? Surely you can't be that arrogant that you'll throw such a tantrum over a useless, barren piece of land," Ophelia countered, something innate within her wanting to defend the man she loved with all of her heart.
She'd never turn her back on David, not even if it was to cost her, her life.
Ophelia yelped in pain when Jareth's hand struck her cheek hard, the force snapping her head to the side, the sudden jolt of movement causing her neck to painfully crack. "Know to whom you speak child, I am a king and you shall damn well address me as such!" he bellowed angrily.
"I loathe your snivelling excuse for a high king for what he is, for what he signifies. He's a product of the foulest creatures to wander the earth, the bottom feeders of the world. He and his creatures have no place among the rest of us, it is a crime in itself that the Underground be associated with such gutter filth! Your acceptance of such wretched kingdom's makes you soiled by affiliation and breaking you precious, will bring me immense satisfaction – unless you wish to accept me as your king, then perhaps I'd keep you for myself," Jareth chuckled, his gloved finger cruising the path between her breasts.
"Do not touch me Goblin King," she spat, slapping his hand away, her skin feeling as though it wanted to crawl off her bones. "David is ten times the man you are, you are nothing in comparison, why would I want you!"
Jareth growled in anger, fisting a chunk of her hair as he yanked her head forward. "That isn't what you used to think precious, I know how you yearned for me to take you away, I know how you fantasized about taking the fictional hero of the Labyrinth's place, only you'd have accepted my offer wouldn't you precious?" he chuckled, stroking her cheek.
"I know how you fantasized of me, of my lips on your bare skin, of my fingers caressing those soft, curves-" he crooned, sliding his hand down her waist, "-of my pulsing, hard cock penetrating your tight little entrance until the fruits of your desire trickled down the crease of your thighs," he drawled, inching the skirt of her dress up her legs.
"Tell me precious, am I everything you dreamed of?" he breathed against her ear, his gloved hand sliding further up her thigh.
"Fuck you!" Ophelia yelled, slamming her knee into his crotch with as much force as she could muster.
The Goblin King groaned in pain, exhaling sharply. "Oh no precious, the only one fucked here, is you," he snarled, tearing off her dress, leaving her stood in only her knickers before he grabbed her arm in a grip she swore was close to breaking her bones and threw her against the wall. Her face was the first part of her to make contact with the hard stone and she screamed when a blinding pain erupted from her nose, her vision obscured by dancing black dots. Ophelia whimpered, biting her lip against the pain when both her arms were shoved mercilessly up her back, held in place by a vice like grip around her crossed wrists.
"You dare to speak to your king in such a vile manner? You dare to physically attack me? I could have you killed for such a crime," he hissed in her ear, his free hand planted on the wall beside her bleeding face.
"You are not my king, David is my king," Ophelia retorted defiantly.
"By the time I've finished with you precious, the only one you'll bow to is me. I'll break you until you're nothing but a sack of flesh, huddled on your knees begging me to show mercy, begging for me to be your king – perhaps giving you what you've always fantasized about will make you more eager to acknowledge your true feelings," he chuckled darkly, his lips skimming the shell of her ear.
"No, please… I-" Ophelia cried, her pleas silenced by the hand clamped over her mouth.
"-You'll stay silent until I give you permission to speak, do you understand?" Ophelia nodded, her fear forcing her into submission. "Good, now spread your legs precious," he commanded, his tone cold and detached.
Ophelia sobbed, silently shaking her head. She couldn't, he'd have to kill her first and in all honesty, she'd prefer death to its alternative. The only one she'd willingly give her body to was David, no matter what it cost her.
"Fine, I tried to play nice, but it would seem you'd rather find out just how cruel I can be…" he snarled.
Ophelia's pleas became unintelligible through her sobs as he aggressively nudged her feet apart with the toes of his boots. Her stomach violently roiled when she felt his fingers trailing up her inner thigh and she whimpered, pleading ardently for him to stop as tears streamed down her bloodied face. "I told you to stay silent until I gave you permission to speak you uneducated fool-" he snarled, ripping off her underwear, "-perhaps you need a lesson in following orders, along with learning your place," he added, whipping off his glove before his fingers traced her bare folds. Her whimpers morphed into a terrified yelp when he kicked her legs out further, whilst yanking her hips back, leaving her forehead crushed against the stone wall whilst the rest of her body arched towards him.
Ophelia screwed her eyes shut, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood as she tried to force herself into her happy place -her mental escape from reality- but she couldn't do it. All she could feel was the fear turning her blood to ice, the pain of her throbbing face and the ache of her arms that were still pinned at an unforgiving ankle up her back. "Perhaps after I'm through with you, you'll learn that when I order you to keep silent, I mean keep silent," Jareth growled before plunging his fingers inside her.
The sound of her strident screams were like the finest aria to the Goblin Kings ears, the agonised wails calling to the dark beast inside him and he thrust his fingers further, relishing in the way she squirmed beneath his touch. Ophelia struggled in his grip, kicking her legs back until they hit something warm and soft, eliciting a hiss of pain. The Goblin King released his hold on her and Ophelia sprinted towards the door, yanking the handle violently as she screamed bloody murder, her fists hammering against the unforgiving steel. She screamed and flailed when Jareth's arms wrapped around her waist and she found herself hurtling towards the floor. She tried to push herself back onto her feet but quickly found she couldn't move, her whole body paralyzed.
"You really do underestimate me precious. It would seem that you need to learn what happens when you continue to defy me," he snarled, strolling over to a wooden crate that she'd not noticed previously and pulled out what looked like a belt with a heavy, metal buckle.
He stalked back over to where she lay naked and paralyzed on the dirt stone floor, his face lit up in a manic grin. "Seen as it is your legs and feet that repeatedly commit the crime of bringing harm to a king, then it must be your legs and feet that suffer the punishment. You might want to bite down precious - this might hurt a little," Jareth crooned, disappearing out of sight.
The sound of a whistling whip echoed in the stifling silence of the room, followed by the loud crack of leather against bare skin and the sharp tear of flesh beneath metal. Ophelia screamed as white hot pain rocketed through her, her vision blurred by tears as the belt struck the backs of her thighs and the soles of her feet.
Over and over again.
David was overwhelmed with nausea as he listened to Ezra's account of what happened and the thought of what Jareth was doing to the woman he loved was bringing him to his knees. The king collapsed onto his throne and Solomon moved to flank his side, bracing his hand on David's shoulder in a silent gesture of support. Both Ezra and Dwayne had done what they were trained to do, they were trained to protect and they'd tried to protect Ophelia by remaining calm and calculating their next moves in a way that avoided his queen coming to harm. They weren't to know that Jareth would shield himself, it wasn't like they could see it, they made the decision to act and it had unfortunately backfired. He didn't blame anyone but Jareth for what happened and that prancing arrogant prat was going to rue the day he made an enemy of him.
"I'm so sorry sire, I failed you, I failed the queen, I-"
David held up his hand to cut him off. "-You did not fail Ezra, you did what you were trained to do and that is all I can ask for-" he sighed, "-go and pull yourself together, I want you back on duty tomorrow, you're one of my best men, I need you."
"Yes your majesty," Ezra bowed, leaving David alone with the Demon King and his agonising thoughts of what that rat-bastard was putting Ophelia through.
"Is Dwayne going to pull through?" Solomon inquired.
"Omarion seems to believe so, I just wish he'd wake up, I can't do this without him, I feel like I'm falling apart – I'm not cut out to be a king, Solomon, I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. The woman I love is out there, scared and alone and I'm sat here, crying – what kind of ruler am I?"
"You've always underestimated yourself David, you are one of the fairest, most just, compassionate, powerful rulers I've ever known much like your father was, but your problem is you lack confidence. I understand you were thrown into this life at a young age and life was cruel to you but never think yourself unworthy of the crown that sits on your head. Your subjects revere you and your fellow monarchs look up to you. It is normal to feel grief in such circumstances David but it doesn't make you weak, it makes you who you are, and you should never apologise for that," Solomon stated sincerely.
"I just need her back here with me, I need to know she's OK," David murmured, holding his head in his hands.
"I will try and breach the castle grounds – I'll see what I can find out," Solomon nodded, vanishing in a cloud of dense, grey smoke, only for him to appear seconds later, an enraged scowl on his face. "He's warded the whole damn castle, Labyrinth included," the demon seethed and David groaned helplessly. Just as he'd thought...
"You should get back to your kingdom Solomon, I appreciate you coming on such short notice – I'm going to try and formulate some form of a strategy, time is truly of the essence," David stated rising to his feet.
"Should you need my assistance please just send word. I understand your desire to hurry but you need to rest friend - a foggy mind cannot formulate clear plans," Solomon advised, patting his friends shoulder before once again vanishing out of sight.
Paul sat staring at the wall of his chambers. He had one hell of a stomach ache and had no idea what to do with himself. He was scarred from seeing one of his best friends pissing blood from a hole in his chest, screaming in pain and worry about Ophelia was tying his stomach in knots. He'd never given much stock to having chicks as friends, he usually just kept them around for the benefits but Ophelia had grown to be like a little sister and not knowing whether she was OK was eating him up inside.
He felt useless. He was supposed to be her personal guard, he needed to do something but he just had no idea what. He couldn't just turn up at the Goblin City gates and be like 'open up dickhole,' he had to be smart about it, he had to figure out a way to get to Ophelia without putting her in more danger. "Ellie," Paul murmured to the empty room.
"Yes?" Ellie sniffled, appearing beside the bed, her lilac eyes rimmed red from crying.
"C'mere," he patted the space beside him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and kissed her crown.
"I can't stop thinking about her Paul, Jareth he's… he's a monster. I've seen the scars of the girls who fled his charge and I can't bear to think what he's doing to her," she cried, burying her face against his chest.
"Hey, ssshh… we're gonna get her outta there OK? We're gonna save our girl," Paul crooned, resting his cheek against her crown.
"How?"
"I don't know yet, but I swear I'm thinking about it – I just… shit I need to know if she's OK Ellie, my stomachs in fucking knots," he grimaced.
A few silent minutes passed before an idea flashed in Paul's mind. "Hey, you know those crystals you use for magic?"
"Yes?"
"Can you use them to see people? You know like how in beauty and the beast, the beast has that enchanted mirror that he can see people in?"
"Paul you spend way too much time in the servants quarters with the kids," Ellie laughed lightly, shaking her head in amusement.
"Do not-" he pouted, "-anyway, do you think you have the ability to do that? If we can see her, maybe we can figure out where in the castle she is, or at least know what condition she's in…"
"But Paul what if-"
"-I know what you're gonna say Elle, but I need to know," Paul pleaded.
"OK, I'll try," Ellie agreed, conjuring an opal white crystal.
"I wish to see Ophelia," she commanded firmly and the crystal started to fog with wisps of lilac, the colours darkening until a clear image of the future queen filled the sphere. Ellie gasped and Paul swore as they watched in horror as the Goblin King flogged Ophelia's legs and feet with a heavy buckled belt. Her flesh was shredded, the wounds weeping blood as she screamed and cried. Ellie could tell she'd been paralyzed, held to the floor with the Goblin King's powerful magic and when Ophelia turned her head to the side Ellie sobbed from seeing her beautiful face bloodied and swollen.
"Stop Ellie, make is disappear," Paul covered his face in his hands despairingly, digging the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. The crystal vanished with a quiet pop and Ellie wrapped Paul in an embrace. "She doesn't deserve that Elle, we need to get her out of there," Paul whispered, holding her tight against him.
"We just need to figure out how," Ellie sniffled, sinking into Paul's embrace.