Chapter Twenty, part 1: "My White Queen"

* * It had been fate and destiny working in unison that night, that brought the
unfortunate circumstances together. If he had but returned to the Labyrinth, and his
castle, then the message would never have been written, and hasty, youthful plans would
have never been formulated. Yet, fate was cruel, and had worked it just so.... that all the
pieces fell easily into place.* *

A sharp and persistent series of knocks had first roused Jareth from his listless
slumber. Dreams, such strange spells concocted by the unconscious, had plagued him
recently. Most notably were the occasions he spent the night within the mortal realm. It
seemed he became fair prey to any and all night terrors, or fantasies, ever imagined by
man.

He rose, feeling a slight touch of grogginess. More human emotions and
experiences that would not be appreciated in the Underground. Such "weakness" was
frowned upon. Jareth swept a hand through the wild mass of blonde hair, which instantly
groomed itself as the magic interwove between each strand.

"Who calls at such a late hour?" Jareth asked, his hand resting lightly upon the
handle of his simple wooden door.

At first there was no answer, no sound to cease the sudden silence. The knocks
had stopped almost at the time that Jareth had finally risen from the bed. Now, the visitor
appeared to have disappeared, faded off into oblivion to allow Jareth more restful slumber.
He turned towards the slight bed.

"I bear a message," the stranger squeaked out from beyond the door.

Jareth paused once more and glanced over his shoulder. He carefully deliberated
what course to take, and finally relented. There were few worthy matches for Jareth
found in the mortal world, what with his gift of magic and immortal nature. He quickly
swung the door open and gazed at the short lad whom recoiled at the sight.

Jareth leaned casually against the door frame, his poet's shirt catching the breeze
and coming to life with rippling waves. The young boy said nothing, but merely appeared
hypnotized by Jareth's presence. In one hand was held a crumpled sheet of paper, scented
faintly of some divine oil that drifted upon the wind.

"Come, come boy, I haven't got all day," Jareth remarked, rushing the servant
along with half-hearted urgings.

The messenger shook his head, physically dragging himself from the self-induced
paralysis. He averted his gaze to the letter and then hesitated once more, before offering it
to Jareth in one trembling hand. It was all quite humorous, what with the boy's endless
shivering and downcast eyes. Few had the power to meet Jareth's overwhelming gaze.

"It is from Miss Emelia Fontridge, sir," the boy stuttered, backing a step away as
Jareth snatched the letter.

He very nearly left, turning to go back into the small cottage, and then realized that
the boy had yet to leave. Despite his fear and obvious yearning to run, still the messenger
remained. Jareth smiled, genuinely trying to remove the predatory glint from his usual
grin, but decided that the attempts were in vain. The boy shrank away noticeably and
could have easily lost all control on the spot.

"Come in, so that I might send a response to fair Emelia," Jareth gestured inside as
he beckoned the boy to do as he said.

The young messenger grew pale, and a fine sheen of sweat graced his furrowed
brow. He scuffed the toe of his worn-down shoes in the dirt, as he contemplated his
decision. True, the man was a close friend of Emelia's, which led to assume that he was
not dangerous. However, his gut told him otherwise.

Despite all precaution the young messenger stepped over the threshold and into the
simple cottage, carefully avoiding Jareth in the process. He cringed noticeably as the door
shut, and found himself suddenly trapped within the home of a stranger. The young man
gulped and promptly turned to face the tall and slender host.

"What shall I call you?" Jareth questioned as he began to open the letter, working
at the wax seal for a few extra moments, in which his mismatched eyes turned to meet the
messenger's.

There was a short pause and the terrified young boy stared blankly into Jareth's
hypnotic gaze. He easily noted the two distinct colors, and recalled such tales told of
those with such physical oddities. He took another step back and stumbled a bit over his
words.

"Duncan, sir," he stuttered and grasped the strange cap from his head, fumbling a
bit with the oversized feather.

Jareth nodded in appreciation and then leant against the nearest wall, eyes flicking
over the letter which he had received. He paused a second and turned to glance at
Duncan, whom waited almost patiently, if it had not been for his fidgeting feet and
shivering legs. At least the boy was trustworthy, that much could be seen through the
cowardly exterior.

"She sent this by way of you? This very night?" Jareth demanded, as he shook the
scented paper in one hand.

Duncan nodded vehemently, recoiling and closing his eyes in reaction to Jareth's
sudden intensity. There was no more interrogation, for Jareth merely rushed to his own
desk and produced a glass jar of ink, along with a freshly sharpened quill. He placed
himself gracefully upon the chair and instantly began to write.

"Come here, Duncan!" Jareth ordered as he finished the short note with a dramatic
flourish of a signature. The final swirl ending with a pronounced blot of ink, almost as if
the line exploded at the finale.

Jareth merely folded the paper, not willing to go through the formalities of sealing,
not with a character such as Duncan. There was no chance of the young messenger
glancing inside, for such an action would certainly anger Jareth. Duncan appeared far too
passive to incite any type of rage.

Duncan took the offered note and placed it firmly into his coat pocket, assuring
himself that it was safe with a slight pat of his hand. He then turned to look at Jareth once
more, waiting for instructions to accompany the latest message.

"Deliver it to Emily, no one else can see what is written there. Now run, boy!"
Jareth demanded and sprung upwards, nearly frightening Duncan to the point of collapse.

The young messenger rushed to the door and, flinging it open, raced into the cool
night. Never had he been so rejoiced to be out in the country, and free from shelter. He
glanced back once, and watched as the door shut, seemingly of its own accord. With that
thought firmly in mind, he ran the whole distance to Emelia, never once pausing for
breath.

Jareth observed the young messenger race across the dirt path, wondering if he had
thought enough before sending the letter to Emily. He turned, hand running through his
golden hair in thought, and then his gaze fell upon the dark steed, standing tranquilly a few
feet ahead, grazing.

"Come," Jareth summoned, and the horse lifted his noble head, mane drifting
gently in the slight breeze.

The stallion walked, head bowed in respect towards his master. His flowing tail
swished , batting at the biting insects of the mortal world. Such an animal as this had not
been accustomed to life in quaint settings, but instead had been born and raised in the
royal stables of the Underground.

"Go to her, and bring her quickly to me," Jareth demanded, stroking the horse's
velveteen muzzle with the palm of his hand.

With a flourish of magic Jareth produced a lovely, immaculate white rose. Its
sharp thorns removed already. He threaded it into the stallions ebony mane, and then
patted the majestic creature once more.

Emelia had seen the stallion only one other time. She had marveled over the
animal, but Jareth doubted that her memory would work when her mind was so focused
on other things. The rose would bear as a reminder for her, as to who owned the horse.
She would trust him then.

In a instant the steed galloped off, racing after the messenger who was already far
from sight. It would not be long. With that thought, Jareth returned to the simple home,
waiting until the time came for him to leave as well.

* * * * * * * *

He heard the sounds of footsteps, limbs crashing through overgrown foliage, and
the telltale nicker from the quickly halted steed. Jareth rose from his sitting position upon
the chunk of fallen masonry. His heavy cloak, worn to keep the icy weather from chilling
his bones, was caught in a passing breeze and snapped around his body.

A hushed voice followed, nearer now, and speaking to the excited horse as she led
it further towards the clearing. Vines were cast aside, and branches swung upwards to
allow passage beneath, ever drawing closer, so that Jareth could nearly smell the sweet
scent of Emelia.

Her hand broke through the thick barrier of leaves, bushes, and vines, and swept
aside nature's curtain. She paused their momentarily, gazing at her lover whom remained
standing, as if a perfect statue. In that single breathtaking moment, she could see the
magic encircle Jareth, transforming him into something that never belonged in her world.
His golden locks of hair flowed freely in the wind, while his cloak danced about his strong
shoulders. His noble, aquiline features, highlighted by the silver moonlight, bore an
expression of joy, and perhaps a touch of fear.

"Emily," Jareth's voice broke her transfixed state and she physically shook the
shock from herself.

She glanced backwards, tugging a bit more at the horse's reins. She knew already
that the grand steed belonged to her lover, for never had such a majestic horse been seen.
The black balked, tearing ahead of her and through the overgrown wall of foliage. Emelia
lurched after him, her hand momentarily caught in the reins as the powerful animal surged
into the clearing.

With a muffled gasp, Emelia broke free from the dangling reins and collapsed to
the ground. She instantly turned her gaze towards the horse, brushing aside stray strands
of thick chestnut hair. The wild animal, that had seemed ready to run further into the
forest, and lose itself among the unfamiliar environment, was standing calmly beside
Jareth, its head bowed to nibble at the patchy grass.

"How...?" she began, but stopped herself as Jareth left the now calmed steed and
approached his fallen lover.

He knelt beside her, hands brushing through her tangled mass of hair so tenderly,
as if a father looking after his daughter. She tried to rise to her feet, but found her ankle
searing with pain, and an ugly bruise beginning to show in a striking hue of purple and
blues. Emelia cringed against the sudden onslaught of agony and squinted her shimmering
copper eyes shut.

"Keep those chestnut eyes closed, my love," Jareth whispered and tenderly pressed
his lips against her forehead.

Emelia did as she was told and waited in anticipation for what was to come. Then
his hand, warm at first, touched the tender damaged area of her ankle. His palms encircled
her slender leg, sending brief, but nonetheless tantalizing tingles all along her flesh. She
shivered, and then winced as another spasm of pain shot down the extent of her calf.

His touched cooled, and became icy against her skin. The odd vibrating aura,
which seemed almost to emanate from Jareth's hands, continued to caress her injury, until
she was fairly certain that she could no longer feel it. Emelia swallowed and licked her
lips with nervous anxiety.

"What have you done, Jareth?" she asked, reaching out with one hand to stroke
the silken shirt worn by her love.

Jareth removed his hands quickly, and grasped her icy fingers firmly, rubbing his
warm palms against them to drive away the chill. Emelia smiled and then allowed the grin
to fade, now overly curious about what the secret had been for.

"May I open my eyes now, sir?" she inquired, her rosy lips curling a touch at each
corner as she waited for his response.

"You may, and come with me as well," Jareth proclaimed as he rose to his feet and
walked away.

Emelia snapped open her wondering eyes and turned her gaze immediately to her
exposed ankle. She momentarily allowed her thoughts to drift back to her father, to what
he would think of a woman who allowed her skin to be seen in such a manner, by a man
no less. Her good spirits faltered noticeably, but she straightened her navy dress and then
turned to look at her lovely young beau.

"Well, will you not help a lady to her feet?" she inquired, extending a pristine
white-gloved hand towards him.

Jareth slowly strolled back, his grin absolutely predatory as he circled her twice
and then took her offered hand into his own. He brushed his fingertips along her palm,
and then drew the innocent glove from her skin, allowing it to be free to the elements. His
touch electrified her flesh, sending a shiver of goosebumps across her arm.

Then, without warning nor hesitation, Jareth pulled her to him. Emelia anticipated
the surge of pain that would envelope her entire being, as full weight was born by her
injured ankle. However, the surprise was placed solely on her, as there was no agony to
be felt. She bent her ankle a few times and then turned her questioning gaze to Jareth,
whom merely smiled knowingly.

"You've bewitched me," Emelia stated, shock and fear intermingling in her shaken
voice.

Jareth shook his head and gently took her flushed face into his magical hands. Her
eyes widened and she withstood his gentle urges to come nearer to his side. Emelia
straightened her lips, tightening them until they became but a thin white line. She pushed
at him briefly with her balled fists, but relented after only a slight attempt at escape.

Jareth threaded his hands through her lovely hair, loosening it till it laid free over
her shoulders and down her back. She appeared so youthful, barely even a woman as she
stood there, her chest heaving with each breath against the cinched corset she wore. Her
cheeks still held a pale pink shade, as she recovered from the original shock of being
healed by his touch alone.

"Emily, I would never harm you. There are some things you will understand with
time. Allow this to be one of those many questions that I will answer in the days to
come," he whispered, and closed his statement with the softest kiss.

Emelia nodded, and laid her head against his powerful shoulder. His scent
wrapped about her, hints of nature, power, and divine unknown mysteries surrounded him
entirely. She wished to be allowed into his world, for it appeared so marvelous from her
vantage point. She hoped that soon, when they made their life together, Jareth would do
just that.

His hands snaked along her back, working at the laced bodice as he pressed his
warm lips more firmly against her own. Emelia returned his passion, wrapping her slender
arms about his neck, all the while feeling her attire slipping towards the forest floor. She
had sinned so often, now there was little to do to save her blackened soul. Emelia merely
relented, understanding that she would have it no other way.

"Wait!" Emelia cried, backing away from Jareth intoxicating grip as she was
overcome with a revelation.

Jareth straightened his simple shirt and crossed his arm, awaiting her grand
proclamation. Emelia tugged at the slipping dress, holding it over her shoulders with only
a great amount of strife. Jareth watched all this with a mild smile gracing his amused face.

"We have no time for this, Jareth. We must away, at once! My father...," she was
silenced instantly by Jareth's hand, pressed against her mouth.

He had moved with the speed and agility of a cat, suddenly being directly in front
of her and ending her speech. Emelia waited to hear why Jareth had seen it necessary to
halt her urges to leave, when her worries were very well-founded. She was not merely
fretting over some trivial matter, but rather the complications that could easily destroy
their life together.

"We do not leave tonight, Emily," Jareth stated suddenly, his eyes turning towards
the darkened night sky, and the lantern which he had brought, that now nestled upon the
ground.

Emily followed his gaze, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She turned her eyes
back towards Jareth, narrowed in anger. She had stolen from her house past the time she
was due to be in her chambers, and would most certainly be found out if she attempted a
return at this hour. It was all too dangerous, and she would be punished for life if caught.

Emily pulled his hand away from her lips and then fixed Jareth with her most
stubborn gaze she could manage. She was not about to back down, for her freedom relied
entirely on this night alone.

"We must. My father will sentence me to life in my chambers, and have you
beheaded before you are given a chance to run," Emelia moaned, gripping Jareth's hand
with frightened intensity.

"He will not find you tonight, as you return, nor will he know you have been out.
We shall leave tomorrow, by the moonlight, as there is to be a full one. We will meet at
the bridge, nearer to your home, Emily, and leave together, free at last," Jareth whispered,
and turned his eyes towards her.

They burned with fire and ice, both extremes. Emelia found herself unable to look
away, and so remained locked with him for a few breathtaking moments. Then he closed
the distance between their two bodies and kissed her passionately, begging for more, but
already aware that their time was gone, for that night. Jareth pulled away and then turned
to look at the grazing stallion.

The horse instantly raised its magnificent head, nostrils flaring for a few moments
until it noted Jareth, standing in the illumination offered by the lantern. The steed walked
towards him, rubbing against his shoulder in a show of affection.

"Ride safely, my love," Jareth stated, as he helped Emelia on to the saddle.

She turned to look at him, eyes widened in genuine fear, but there truly was
nothing to worry. He handled everything. Her father and mother would sleep as she
returned, and rise in unusually happy moods. Emelia would slip away as they slept the
next night, and they would be free. It seemed almost too easy.

Jareth stepped away as she rode out, beneath the overhanging branches. She
would find it far easier to return, than it had been to make her way into the clearing. The
foliage appeared to jump from her path, and then vines all swung oddly in some unseen
wind, just in time to avoid her as she passed by. Jareth could see it all, though she had
already ridden far from sight.

"I shall see you tomorrow, my lovely white queen," he whispered and then
carefully stepped into the shadows, soon fading into nothingness.