All I ask of you, is that when I cannot, would you . . .
Protect?
Clad in her dressing gown and slippers, Sarah balanced the tray in her hands as she stepped between the boxes that lined the passage of the tiny garden suite she rented. Three months in and she still hadn't unpacked everything. The goblins had been on their best behaviour and had kept all their wild parties to the Castle. They had taken to inviting her over instead. Summer solstice had apparently been memorable, not that she could recall anything. One night of goblin grog had taught her to avoid the stuff, but also had taught her that coffee, along with a stack of honey toast was rather welcome the morning after.
She stepped into the throne room and found Jareth with his arm over his eyes, his leg over the side of the throne and his free hand snapping his riding crop against his boot. The way those goblins not still snoring winced when he did that, he was being petty on purpose. He peeked at her and took a mug off her tray and a slice of toast.
"You spoil us rotten." He shifted to sit up a little as the goblins shuffled over and took their cups. She made a few more trips as more goblins woke up, then settled on the step at the base of Jareth's throne. She usually sat in the chicken pit in the middle of the floor, but it still contained the most stubbornly snoring goblins.
She felt Jareth tap her head with his riding crop and snatched it away from him.
"That is mine," he protested.
"I claim the right of conquest," she returned dryly.
She squeaked as he leaned over, his mismatched eyes sparkling with delight.
"Ugh, you smell of grog and coffee, brush your teeth!"
"That's not a fair challenge," he protested. "Make it something interesting!"
"I challenge you to make it through a night of feasting and drinking without overindulging and being hung over the next morning."
"That's a dreadful challenge!" he protested and let his head fall on her shoulder. "Mmh, your dressing gown is so soft."
She pushed his head away.
"It's still a challenge." She waved the crop about like a conductor's baton. "This remains mine until I see it happen. I could extend it to include all Your Majesties subjects?"
"A more boring challenge has never been issued in this kingdom," he sulked and slumped back on his throne and went back to sipping his coffee.
.
Just then there was an almighty clattering in the passage and a crowd of miserable looking goblins scrambled through. There was a brief tussle as they discovered the coffee and confiscated cups from those who already had had half a cup. Some didn't bother and ran straight on into the Escher Room.
Jareth opened his eyes.
"Keep it down," he whined.
More goblins followed the first. Then one staggered over to the throne, panting like a bellows.
"Kingy!" He gasped for air.
"What now?" Jareth asked with irritated disdain.
"The carriage!"
He slumped back in his chair.
"I told you," he drawled with exaggerated patience, "the parade is next week at the equinox. You know to watch the sun markers, is it rising due east yet?"
"No!" The goblin all but jumped on the spot in desperation. "The carriage with the fluffy bits on it!"
The effect was instantaneous. Jareth seemed to sober up and fall into utter horror in the space of a heartbeat.
"Has it been seen? Who saw it?"
"Seen?" The goblin croaked. "It's here!"
"Why haven't the bells sounded?" Jareth demanded and sprang up from his chair and stumbled across the instant pandemonium as all the goblins about him made the swiftest exit Sarah had ever seen to the Escher Room. Even the chickens fled.
Sarah carefully set aside her own cup as she stood. She stepped around the now empty pit in the middle of the room.
"Jareth, what's wrong?"
"Gah!" He leaped backwards from the window and almost knocked her over as he darted behind her.
Then, in at the window, carried on a silvery carpet held up by hundreds of tiny fairies and magic, floated a beautiful woman with golden hair all pinned up with silver and the most sumptuous green gown. The instant she was through the window she landed on her feet.
"No welcome for me this time, Jareth?" she asked coquettishly, as she flipped open a fan.
Sarah stood frozen, she felt like some leftover prop unintended for the stage where it now found itself. The woman was stunningly beautiful.
"We were not aware of your intention to visit!" Jareth purred languidly. Sarah jumped as he placed a hand on her back as if to keep her between him and the woman.
"Can your intended not step in uninvited?" she asked in a hurt little voice. Sarah cringed; insincerity of any kind always galled her.
"Intended?" Jareth's voice went straight through an octave. He cleared his throat and spoke in a more controlled manner. "Ceceille, there is a great misunderstanding here, we have no such arrangement."
"Ah, but my father is soon to approach you about us, we would make an excellent match, don't you think?"
Jareth choked and made as if he were clearing his throat.
"Ah, Ceceille," he said in a bright tone of someone inventing things very rapidly, "you are far too late in revealing your more delicate feelings." His tone turned grave and Sarah staggered slightly as Jareth hugged her to his side. "The very manner of your approach and request insults my girlfriend, Sarah."
Sarah reached down and pinched his leg. He flinched but did not release her, or his act.
The woman noticed her for the first time. Sarah wondered by what excuse she had dismissed her in the first place. The look of disdain as she raked over her clothes made Sarah realise that luminous green fuzzy slippers accompanied by a lavender dressing gown and blue Sleepy Puppy pyjamas were not exactly throne room attire.
"You may keep her as a mistress if you insist on consorting with mortals," Ceceille sniffed.
"Excuse me?" Sarah exclaimed in outrage. She did not know whether to cry or laugh. She pitied the poor girl who did become Jareth's mistress. Yet she could not let the insult to her stand.
"You're not long for the world; you'll be gone in fifty years or less. Do not let whatever sweet nothings he has poured into your ear deceive you. Jareth has lived for thousands of years and will live for thousands more."
"It seems then," Sarah said in an overly thoughtful tone, "that he has had thousands of years to ignore the likes of you. Odd that he would choose the bed of a mortal of less than a hundred years in the world over you, or is it that something in your offer is lacking?"
She felt him shudder with silent laughter at her side and pinched him again. He tightened his grip slightly on her arm.
"You shameless hussy," she gasped, "have you any idea of his station?"
"Well that comforts me no end, you want him for his power and his land. Charming. Turn around and trot your little mercenary backside out of here."
"What other use is a king?" Ceceille asked in an artfully coquettish tone. "All he lacks to be properly presented before court is a queen at his side."
Sarah turned to look at Jareth who was wearing a rather good poker face of mild disinterest. His eyes gave him away though; he was on his last nerve.
"What court is this, darling?" Sarah asked pleasantly, hating the way Ceceille simpered. "We have not discussed other nations and powers."
"I believe she wishes an invitation to the Emperor's courts, which she will gain should she marry me. As a lesser King under his greater rule, I would visit on the occasion of my marriage and other high functions of state."
"Do we like the Emperor?"
"He bids us mind our territories and to desist from baiting our neighbours, he is an honourable overlord."
"What would he say to a mortal wife?"
"What he has ever said to mortals in the fae realms, as long as they don't cause succession wars, he doesn't care."
"And there we have it, Ceceille," Sarah smiled a touch too viciously.
The beautiful woman drew back, honest alarm entering her eyes now.
"You intend to marry him?"
Sarah turned to Jareth as he leaned over and planted a tender kiss on her cheek. He still smelled of coffee and grog, she fought to keep her face smooth.
"Ours is a match of the most subtle love, Ceceille," Jareth said with a haunted delicacy that had Sarah silently fighting laughter at his terrible overacting, "no station or wealth could split us asunder."
"Love!" Ceceille's shriek made Sarah wince and Jareth cringed at the pain in his head. "You're petty, shallow, and make a mockery of what a king should be! What would you know of love?"
Sarah strode away from Jareth, loosing herself in fury.
"Tell me, Ceceille, what was it that made you turn your head in his direction in the first place? Love is not on your agenda, so why does it trouble you so that it is on mine?"
"You mortals know nothing of love. It entwines two souls for eternity and only the sun and stars can outshine its beauty. He is fickle, feckless and faithless."
"Do you know anything of love? The little things? Helping someone up when they have fallen? Turning them to the right path when they have gone wrong? Running them through the gauntlet when they cannot be taught otherwise? Caring for something thought worthless when all others thought it dead?"
"Trivialities and the work of servants," she sneered.
"Everything I have listed Jareth has done and more," Sarah sneered at her. "He has more subtlety and understanding of love than you have wit." She swanned back to Jareth and he tucked her in at his side once more.
Ceceille gaped at her.
"You little strumpet! I am–"
"Insulting the one he counts his beloved, which would increasingly sour him to your suite by the same magnitude to which he loves me."
She gave a fierce squeak of pure frustration.
"King Jareth, our negotiations are at a tremulous point! For you to risk our most advantageous match in such an indecorous manner, speaks much ill of your character!" She turned about and the silvery carpet carried by fairies appeared and she sank onto it in a great huff and swept out of the window.
.
They watched her go and then a plumed carriage rattled away from the walls of the goblin city. She looked up at Jareth who still hugged her to his side, and looked a little wide about the eyes.
"With her lacklustre wit and my feckless fickle nature, we'd make an excellent couple," he declaimed airily.
"While I stand alone with love!" Sarah sighed dramatically. "Let me not to the marriage of true minds..."
Neither could hold it in any longer and they both packed out laughing. Jareth staggered back to his throne and collapsed into it, laughing so hard he clutched at his stomach. Sarah sat against the window ledge and shook with mirth.
"How do you do it?" Jareth panted and continued to laugh silently. "I could deliver such a speech and it would only have her more determined to pursue me, yet you, you sent her off!"
"Must have been the coffee talking," Sarah chuckled.
The goblins, hearing the laughter, crept back into the throne room.
"Tell the kitchens to prepare a feast this evening in Sarah's honour for sparing us a week of Ceceille!" Jareth declared.
Great whoops of delight sounded all through the Escher Room at this declaration and Sarah found herself hugged by every goblin that passed her. She sat on the ground handing out hugs and pats and straightening helmets as they swarmed her. They trotted off to the kitchens and their duties and only the guard and throne room attendants were left.
"I've got a wonderfully boring day of editing before me!" Sarah smiled at the still grinning Goblin King. "I'll be through tonight for the feast. Send someone to call me if she returns for an early encore. I will be sure to wear curlers."
She left Jareth chuckling as she went.
The next morning she came through with the first round of coffee. To her surprise Jareth did not take one but waved her off to share the mugs with the goblins.
"I believe I have succeeded at the challenge and won my riding crop back," he declared sounding oddly proud of himself.
Sarah laughed and went to fetch it where it hung next to her keys in the hall. She set down the second tray of coffee for the goblins and sauntered over. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then handed it to him.
"For the love of my life," she murmured fluttering her eyelashes at him.
Jareth laughed heartily then grabbed her as she turned. She couldn't even get out a squeak as he tucked her beside him on his throne, his arm circled around her.
"No, from the love of mine," he murmured with a simple happy smile.
She made the mistake of looking questioningly up at him but he slouched back in his throne, his eyes closed. Several goblins trooped in then and he cracked an eye to order them to keep the noise down then seemed to doze off. Sarah sat, stunned. She trusted this act of his as far as she could throw him, but what worried her most was that for a moment his words had rung true in her heart. She bit at her lip, as her stomach did odd little flips of joy all around a shuddering pit of confusion. The Underground was dangerous and Jareth was perhaps the most dangerous thing in it, she tried to steel her resolve and keep that at the forefront of her memory. Only it was difficult with his hand resting gently on her hip and his warm chest at her back. She glanced back at his dozing form, and realised he simply expected her to let him nap and protect him for that moment from his goblins. She sipped at her coffee and smiled, that much, she could do.