All of my knowledge of Fae lore is gleaned and inspired by Labyrinth fanfiction especially A Twisting Heart and Mind by FangamerBowiexteme, The Goblin Market by Viciously Witty, The Thirteenth Rider by Hachimanskitsune, and everything by subtilior. If you haven't read them, please treat yourself.
The spring equinox was upon them. All had gathered within the Goblin Kingdom to venerate the gods and celebrate nature's renewal. The gardens with their lush grassy walkways cushioned the bare feet that seemed to glide through rather than trample over the blades. Marble fountains provided ambient accompaniment to the small quartet that played. Beautiful arrays of small green hedges swirling in miniature mazes, accented with colorful petals that floated to the ground from the tall white trees towering around them providing shade and ambiance, separated the paths and offered the nobles a taste of the glories spring provided in a cultivated atmosphere. Tables laden with punches, wines, canapes, crudités, fruits, meats, loaves of bread, and desserts were placed around the garden forcing the attendants of the event to circulate and socialize. The afternoon had been a success, but the real measure between triumph and failure was still to come.
Stars dusted the deep indigo night sky to the east while the last golden rays of sun clawed the horizon to the west, leaving streaks of pink and orange as it seemed to fight for every last minute in the sky. The bonfires on the hills surrounding the labyrinth and the castle at its center would burn brighter now, common revelers' shadows dancing in front of the flames. Everyone would play their parts in the festivities.
Sarah could feel eyes watching her, whether from another corner of the garden or through a crystal she did not know. But she knew she had lingered with the gentlemen that had gathered around her, holding court, long enough. She gently made her excuses and made her way to the center of the party.
As the twilight turned to night, lanterns lit the way to the castle. The nobility followed the beacons, finding their partners along the way, creating a procession to the ballroom within. Disappearing beyond the large wooden doors, the gardens were emptied with the exception of two.
Sarah gazed at the sky wondering how long she would be allowed to linger, to catch her breath before once more assuming the role that fate had bestowed upon her. As she heard soft footsteps approaching behind her, she knew her reprieve would be short-lived.
Curling her toes in the blanket of grass, she was grateful this event required bare feet. Sarah remembered the blisters and sore feet from formal occasions in her world. Homecomings, proms, weddings, all ended with her sitting in a chair avoiding the fun happening around her. But Ostara was a celebration of nature's renewal, its rebirth, a chance to venerate the fertility of the land, and hope that it would spread to its people. And as such, the attire encouraged a return to nature.
Gone were the layers of bustled or bubbled skirts and puffed sleeves of dreams gone by. The furs and velvets of Yule, far too warm and cumbersome for what was to come. The dresses worn today were made of the sheerest silks, chiffons, and organzas. Some dresses were draped over the lithe bodies of the Fae women in attendance much like togas, baring a shoulder or a breast to entice and lure would-be suitors for the evening. The boldest wore garments fashioned entirely out of strings of jewels or pearls, that cascaded over their shoulders and hips, accenting rather than covering their bodies.
Sarah, however, had opted to incorporate the fashions of her old world with the aesthetic of the new. The dusky rose of the dress matched the crown of flowers that replaced her usual silver circlet. The bodice was so finely woven that the silver leaves and flowers that swirled over her waist and breasts until they encircled her upper arms looked as though they were embroidered on her skin itself. The skirt was made of several panels of the same fabric slightly overlapping each other as they worked their way around her waist, moving as though they were petals breezing around her legs as she walked. The same embroidered pattern from the bodice fell from her hips, densely at first, providing a modicum of modesty, but spreading further to the hem they reached. Small crystals were sewn in the middle of each flower, catching the light and hopefully, distracting from the lack of undergarments beneath.
If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the gown was nothing more than the hideous lamé strapless gown she had begged her father to buy for her instead of the revealing finery that hugged her body. The unfairness at the time had seemed paramount. Why couldn't she bare her shoulders and a little thigh? The other girls' parents let them. And now, here Sarah was fighting for enough fabric and stitching to hide behind. She shook her head at her own musings. Those memories would have to hold until later when she could laugh or maybe cry in the privacy of her rooms, bittersweet as they still were.
Long fingers traced the slope of Sarah's shoulders. Only one would dare to touch her so intimately. She turned to see her husband gazing down at her.
"You are doing splendidly, love," Jareth said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he twirled a long lock of deep brunette tresses so different from the flaxen hair most of the Fae of his realm possessed.
"Really?" she replied. She never knew how she felt about the possessiveness of his regard when he looked at her as he did now like she was a beloved toy or pet. It rankled her that she would be seen as an object of his desire to be spoiled and soothed rather than an equal, but what bothered her more was the fear that someday he would stop. She hated that she craved his desire and approval. After all, none of this was really ever her choice. He should be the one seeking out her validation. However, as she had learned so long ago, life was rarely fair.
"You've been a gracious hostess, generous queen, and by far, the most beautiful woman in attendance."
Sarah laughed. "I find that hard to believe." The ethereal otherness of the Fae had plagued her since her arrival here. Although she knew she was beautiful in mortal standards, what was that compared to perfection that surrounded her?
Jareth's eyes glinted as they narrowed. "Careful, precious. Accusing the king of lying is treading very closely to treason."
She shrugged. "In my world, a wife teasing her husband is just considered flirting."
"But we're not in your world are we, my dear?" His voice lowered dangerously.
Without the high starched cravat and evening jacket, he looked less a gentleman and more a brigand, like those that graced the covers of the romance novels her step-mother adored. His white linen shirt was open to the waist, leaving his chest bare except for the sigil he wore around his neck that hung over his sternum. He wore powder blue breeches that matched the colored streaks in his hair for the occasion. No stocking or shoes adorned his feet. She had to admit she was a little jealous that others got to see him in a state of dress that was usually reserved for the bedroom they shared.
Sarah stepped towards him, her hands running up the length of his body before circling around his neck. Pressing herself against him, she replied, "No, we're not. But I might still be willing to risk it."
A dark chuckle vibrated his chest. "Then I'll have to think of a creative punishment for such brazen behavior." He pressed a gentle kiss to her brow then stepped back offering her his arm. "Do you remember what happens next?"
Sarah sighed, laying her arm over his. "We are announced. We dance the first dance. You give a toast and traditional prayer. And then…" Her cheeks turned a deep shade of pink. "We enjoy the festivities."
She tried to calm the anxiety rising within her, tumbling in her stomach. Having only been a part of this world for little over a year, she was still adjusting to the Fae customs and revelry. Everything was so foreign yet hints of her own holidays were present at each celebration. Jareth had done his best to indulge and appease Sarah as she longed for some familiarity. He presented her with a Christmas Tree during Yule, a trip to the oceanside after Midsummer's Eve, and candy in a pumpkin on Samhain. However, last year she had only been expected to observe. To learn. And this year, to partake.
Jareth watched the display of modesty bloom on his bride's face. "I am certainly looking forward to enjoying the festivities with you, my dear." He smiled as her pink turned to red.
The Fae King relished his bride's innocence. Having been brought up in the mortal realm, entrenched in their strange obsessions with modesty, chastity, and morality, Sarah was far from worldly. The Fae seemed to disdain those qualities the humans hold dear. Those manners humans believed made them superior to all others, made them childish and foolish in the eyes of those who lived eons. Her virtues, however ridiculous, were refreshing in the tumultuous sea of jaded beings who knew no boundaries in their pleasures and depravities. She would always have a touch of purity and sincerity his fellow kind never possessed.
He guided her to the castle, sensing her apprehension. A garden party with all the social intricacies of court was nothing compared to the evening ceremonies. Sarah had indeed done well. She had seemed confident and poised even though he knew she had spent many a late night imagining potential slights or mishaps that could occur. She took her role as queen seriously and was determined not to fail in her duties even though Jareth tried to calm her fears with the reassurance that no one would dare criticize his wife. At least not openly. But she would not be dissuaded from her studies. Tonight, however, Jareth would not be left alone as his wife burned the midnight oil. Together they would set the world ablaze.
They paused at the closed doors leading into the ballroom. Sarah held her breath. Although she had planned the garden party with minimal assistance from her husband, Jareth had refused to relinquish the decoration of the ballroom to her.
The doors opened revealing blinding opulence. She tried not to gawk or gasp. It was like something out of a dream she once had.
Chandeliers with dozens of candles shone brightly, the dancing light reflecting off the crystal octagon chains and baguettes strung between each curved arm. Swaths of white silk draped from the chandeliers to columns with sprays and garlands of flowers in pastel hues spiraling up their heights. Plumps cushions and furniture in shapes Sarah had never seen with matching pastel upholstery lined the periphery of the grand room. The curves, handles, and oversized features of these settees and chairs gave Sarah pause before she remembered all eyes were on her. She turned her face to her husband, smiling brilliantly at him, and watched his lips quirk in satisfaction to her reaction.
The sea of courtiers parted and a loud voice echoed over the hushed crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, His Majesty, Jareth The Goblin King, Lord of Wishes and Dreams, and Master of the Labyrinth and Her Majesty, Sarah The Goblin Queen, Champion of the Labyrinth, Bride of Wild Hunt."
With her arm resting on top of his, Sarah allowed herself to be led into the center of the ballroom. Lords, ladies, and dignitaries all curtsied or bowed as they passed.
Jareth and Sarah turned to face each other. He bowed to the only person worthy of such deference as she curtsied in return. The music began soft and slow, the two stepping diagonally to their left together and back to center and repeating the same footwork to the right, saluting the East and West from whence the sun rose and set. Acknowledging each of the four corners they circled each other, their eyes focused on one another as though they were the only beings in the world.
Palm to palm, their hands met between them, rising above their head then arcing down to their sides. His hand came to rest on her waist, pulling her close and sweeping her into a graceful waltz. Dancing with Jareth, was as close to flying as Sarah would ever get.
As they made their second turn about the floor, others finally joined in the first waltz. Letting him lead her with confidence and agility, she savored the feel of his arm under her hand and the way his body moved against hers. Even dressed so casually he looked every inch a king. She wished the dance would never end, but curiosity at how the evening would progress was getting the better of her. She felt flushed and a little breathless as the song finally drew to a close ending as it began with a bow and curtsy.
The two monarchs, once more, joined hands. They ascended a dais on the furthest wall from whence they entered the ballroom. Where once two thrones sat, now only one stood. Although it was double the width of their usual seats, Sarah knew only one would be seated upon it. And she upon him.
Standing before the throne, they turned to face their audience. Hundreds of eyes focused on them. Materializing a crystal goblet filled with a deep red wine, he raised it high, others following suit.
"Today, we banish the bleak and frigid winter, those long nights barren and cold, to welcome the spring in all its warmth and glory. We give praise to Ostara in hopes that she will bless the land, the seed buried deep, with fertility and renewal to bring forth new life. As the darkness and light today are equals, so too, we let our dyadic natures free. Dark and light. Civilized and carnal. Sophisticated and hedonistic. Tonight, we show our thanks and reverence by celebrating the very creation of life that Ostara has seen fit to bless us with in hopes that we too shall be blessed. Hail, Ostara!"
"Hail, Ostara!" rang from the voices gathered.
Jareth took a sip then held the goblet to Sarah's lips. She drank from it willingly, welcoming the taste and burn of the wine as she swallowed a large mouthful. She would need several more glasses before the night was over.
"Slowly, Sarah." His lips quirked into a grin, pulling the glass away before she could chug the whole glass. "We do have all night after all." Setting the goblet on a table next to the throne, Jareth sat with his usual ostentation, waving for the music to recommence before pulling Sarah onto his lap.
She sat rigidly, perched sideways across his thighs, her back perfectly straight as she stared at the dancers circling the floor once more. A plate piled high with sweets appeared on the table to their left. Ambrosia. The food of the gods. The small morsels reminded her of Turkish delight in appearance but the flavor…that was different for everyone. Sarah had never tasted it before, often wondering what it would be for her. As he offered her a delicate confection, she opened her mouth willingly, eagerly, ready to take her place in the society that had become her own. No longer satisfied with observing.
Amaretto and white chocolate melted on her tongue. A warmth spread through her body, her muscles relaxing as the feeling traveled down her limbs. Settling back against her husband's chest she listened to the music and watched the colors and sounds moving in unison across the floor.
Jareth kept his eyes on his queen as she nestled against him. His arm curved around her hip, parting the fabric of her skirt to graze her skin with his fingertips. She gasped at the light contact. Plucking another bite of ambrosia off the plate he fed Sarah once more. He so rarely got to take care of her in this way. Being the stubborn head-strong woman she was, the only time she would tolerate such overindulgence was in the presence of others. She knew there was a time and a place to stand her ground in front of their subjects. A celebration was not one of them.
Her hips rocked slightly, her body fidgeting against his leg. He ran his hand over her thigh feeling her muscles tense, squeezing together. He had wondered how the ambrosia would affect a mortal. For the Fae, it enhanced their lust and pleasure. Would it do the same for Sarah? Would it help her push past her inhibitions to fully enjoy herself? The thought of Sarah wanton and willing in front of the congregation of Fae made his cock strain against his breeches.
Everyone recognized her beauty and vitality. Although his people came in an array of colors, each one seemed a muted pastel compared to her vibrancy. Sarah was feisty, outspoken, and brash. And yet, she was also generous; capable of love in ways that the cool and calculated women of his race could never achieve. The looks of craven, vulgar jealousy he would receive as he pleasured her, knowing that he alone would know the pleasure of her body, the true power of her love, fueled his pride. For as much as he appreciated her generous curves and dark beauty, it was her spirit that set her apart from the Fae. He would show them all just how passionate she was.
Sarah wasn't sure if it was the wine or the ambrosia or the tantalizing vision of bodies entangling in front of her but every gentle touch of Jareth's hands, his breath playing against her skin, the tickle of his hair lingered on her skin. Each stroke fanning the embers of desire, setting her body on fire. She squirmed against him.
She watched the dancers moving across the floor. Lively quadrilles and graceful waltzes transformed with longing touches and couples changing partners frequently as the music devolved from orchestral arrangements to the primitive drums and pipes of their ancestors. The steps once organized and precise were replaced with undulating bodies, twisting and grinding against each other until the whole dance floor resembled a pit of vipers slithering en masse. Every one of them trying to transfix her with their gaze.
Unsure of where to look, her eyes traveled over the room. Couples and groups had started breaking away from the dance, making full use of the furniture and cushions placed around the outskirts of the room. Some of them were frighteningly creative.
Sarah turned her head, whispering into Jareth's ear, "I hope you plan on cleaning all those after tonight." She nodded in the direction of a settee on which three fae writhed.
He laughed. "Oh no, my dear. They'll be used for kindling the next time we have need of a bonfire. Not even magic can remove the horrors that will cover that upholstery."
She swatted at his chest as giggles erupted from her lips. Her fingers lingering on the bare skin, then slid up to his neck under the silver chain from whence his emblem hung. Why did he feel so good? Soft skin over lean muscle. The urge to trail her tongue over his pulse which drummed on his throat tugged at her instincts tempting her mercilessly.
Capturing her fingers in his, Jareth turned her palm upwards, pressing a kiss into it. He raised his eyes to see hers staring at him. Eyes hooded, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, cheeks flushed. His gaze dipped to rise and fall of her breasts beneath the gauzy embroidered bodice. It would take little effort to rip it, baring her before him. Before all and sundry. And how he longed to. To show everyone without a doubt that Sarah was his and his alone. But he knew, she must be the one to lead this dance. To set the pace. To test her boundaries and discover her own desires and power, exploring her limits and discovering how far she would go.
Captivated by the way Jareth watched her, Sarah waited. Waited for Jareth to kiss her. To touch her. Why wasn't he?
Last year, she had only been in the Underground for a few months during Ostara. As much as she had tried to accept and adjust to her unexpected life changes, Jareth had sensed her reluctance and whisked her away before the bacchanalia began for which Sarah had been grateful, protecting her delicate sensibilities a while longer. Or keeping her all to himself away from prying eyes while he could. She wasn't quite sure. He was often selfish in his generosity. His true motives always blurred between unscrupulous and benevolent.
What little she had seen had been enough to stir her imagination. Dreams of what could have been had haunted her for the past year. The time for dreaming and wishes were over though. She had what she wanted in front of her. She only had to reach out and take it.
Sarah pressed her lips to Jareth's. Although no stranger to taking the reins in the bedroom, her movements were hesitant and unsure. How did one ignore the fact that hundreds of people were engaged in carnal congress around them? That after tonight everyone present will have seen her at her most vulnerable? Did it really matter? Would anyone actually care? Did she?
Her concerns and fears became hazy, the importance and weight of her actions lifted from her as she felt the influence of the laced delicacies finally take full effect.
All thought stopped as Jareth's tongue parted her lips. Deeping their kiss, Sarah's body alit, pleasure shooting through her limbs, her nerves vibrating with need. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but them.
Despite being ensconced upon his lap, it was not close enough. Her breasts flattened against the hard plane of his chest, metal sigil digging into her skin. Her fingers carded through his wild locks, soft and downy. Had it always been so silky? She wanted to bury her face in it, breathing deeply the scent of mahogany, vetiver, and magic that always reminded her of frost on evergreen.
Jareth felt the moment her inhibitions melted away. His hand slid between Sarah's thighs, once clenched tightly together, now opened willingly inviting his touch. As he grazed the soft juncture, he found her hot, wet, his fingers sliding effortlessly through her slit. Her head fell back as he used his leg to spread hers, angling her body away from him, her back leaning against his chest. He allowed one panel of her skirt to fall between their legs, giving the illusion of protection from leering eyes.
Kissing the slope of her neck, his fingers simultaneously traced the intricate, delicate folds spiraling ever closer to those areas that she desperately needed to be touched, filled. Every time she arched or rolled her hips, attempting to hurry his leisurely explorations, he would cease and start his ministrations from the beginning. A fine mist of sweat covered her brow as she fought to hold still, her hair curling at the temples from the heat her body generated.
"Please," she begged.
"Please what, Precious?" He whispered in her ear, "Say your right words and you can have all you desire and more."
"I need you. All of you. Touching me. Inside me." Her voice was fractured with small gasps and moans as the anticipation built to a frenzy.
Jareth reached the epicenter of her pleasure. Gently rubbing her clit, he kept her legs spread though they shook and threatened to close as the pleasure grew in intensity. Slipping first one then two fingers inside her, he pressed his palm against the curve of her mound. Sarah's hips rocked against his hand, riding his fingers, lost to rising feelings, chasing the release that had been withheld.
She was so close. Her muscles tightening, coiling, needing the gratification he provided. Sarah felt the rigid outline of his erection pressing between the curves of her backside. It was only fair that he suffer as well. She rocked against it, feeling him thrust in response.
Groaning against her shoulder as his teeth scraped her skin. "Look, Sarah. Open your eyes." His voice, gravelly and low as he spoke against her ear. "Look at them watching you. Watching us. Wishing they could have you." He curled his fingers inside her as she rose and fell upon his hand. "Wishing they were you."
Sarah opened her eyes. Naked bodies in various positions, mouths sucking, hands groping, and all eyes turned towards the throne. Her fears and inhibitions gone, all she felt in the moment was power.
"And when you grow round with my child, they will know that we alone were blessed by the gods themselves. We alone are worthy."
Sarah's muscles stiffened, heat and electricity spreading throughout her body, climbing higher, reaching a precipice she longed to fall over. Her orgasm crashed through her body. Her cries of pleasure carried through the room by the acoustics designed for royal decrees.
Instead of satiated, her desire had only increased exponentially. Turning, she clambered over Jareth's lap. Her hands pulled at the buttons on his breeches, freeing him from the confines of his clothing. She pushed her skirt out of her way, straddling his lap. Sinking down, she shuddered as he stretched and filled her completely.
Jareth growled, encompassed in her silken heat. Watching her rise and fall, the opulence and depravity of the ballroom behind her presented a clear contrast; heaven and hell. The life and society he had eagerly partaken of no longer held the same enticement. All he needed, all he wanted was in his arms.
His hands left her hips, gripping the front of her fragile bodice, he ripped it in two. He cupped her breasts bringing his lips to their peaks. Sucking and pulling at her nipples, until they darkened to a deep rose. Her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she rode him, her head thrown back, hair cascading wildly down her back, dress in tatters. It was almost too much for even the Goblin King.
Let the others talk. Let them wonder. Let them be damned, the goblin king thought to himself as he magicked himself and his bride to their personal chambers. They had seen enough.
Sarah's back hit the mattress of their large bed, hidden away from the rest of revelers. She pulled Jareth down, kissing him fervently. "Clothes. Off please," she said between the meeting of their lips.
Suddenly, skin met skin. Heat on heat as their clothing disappeared. She wrapped her legs around his waist, wanting to feel him, urging him deeper.
Needing no further invitation, he plunged into her with powerful strokes. Reaching between them, he stroked her clit until she arched and writhed underneath him, her legs falling to the mattress, fingers twisting in the sheets her muscles contracting around him.
Driving into her, seeking his own release, he quickened the pace of his thrusts until his rhythm became erratic. His body shook as he buried himself within her, finding his completion.
Jareth fell to his elbows top of her, both panting and slick with sweat from their exertions. Rolling them to their side, he pulled Sarah close to him. Their eyes closed as their breathing evened. Though their evening was far from over.
The night was filled with passion as they woke several times, the after-effects of the ambrosia lasting for hours. Jareth had lost count on the number of orgasms he had coaxed From Sarah though she swore she couldn't possibly endure any more pleasure. Just as they brought each other to climax one last time, the golden rays of the sun burst over the horizon through the windows. As fortunate as Jareth realized he was to have found and kept the woman in his arms, he knew now the goddess of the dawn, Ostara herself, had truly sanctified their union.
Sarah watched the sun light the sharp features of her husband. Never would she have thought that the events of the evening before would be something she would want or enjoy participating in. Her life, so different from what she had planned.
The world of the Fae was at times confusing and intimidating. The future, one she was never sure of what it would provide. But with Jareth's arms around her. Her body satiated, glowing in the aftermath of their love, she could think of only one word to describe her life. Blessed.
Thanks so much for reading! I have ideas for a prequel of sorts if anyone is interested in another Wild Hunt, captured bride story sometime in the future. Let me know!