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Title: Twice Upon A Time
Author: Loki
Rating: R, mostly for language.
Disclaimer: all standard ones apply.
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Chapter Two: Of All Charms
Miraculously she appeared back in her room several minutes before the alarm clock went off. She was in no mood to make any attempts at school, but it seemed the lesser of two evils. The greater? Sulking about obsessing on her situation with the Goblins' current King. So she went to school, and she thought about him. And she wondered why, after two years, this was happening.
Her Government teacher droned on and on about things that just didn't seem important in the face of her current problems. She knew she needed to listen, if not for the sake of her grades then for the sake of her sanity. But for one fleeting moment she let the idea take root, that she was actually betrothed to a faerie tale king. One that stole babies and tormented young girls . . .and was strangely enchanting.
What if it was true? She let her hands slide along the desk until they dangled off the end and she felt the cool wood against her forehead. An attempt to straighten some of the tangles in her mind, but nothing helped. What if it was true? But it couldn't be true. She was Sarah; she didn't marry Goblin Kings and rule over Kingdoms of fantasy. She watched her brother and tried to keep up her grades. Surely more than that went into the makings of a Queen?
Something skittered across her desk and she lifted her head just enough to see, expecting the disapproving stance of her teacher. A folded sheet of paper rested perilously close to the edge, her name screaming out in muted blue ink. She fought sighing too obviously as she sat up and smoothed the letter out.
How were things in her world? Wasn't Ms. Payne being extremely long-winded today? Did she want to go shopping Saturday? And o, by the way, Jeremy liked her.
Sarah tried to work up some excitement for that revelation. She had been debating on asking Jeremy out for weeks now, but didn't want to ask without some small glimmer of assurance. And here it was. So why didn't she care? Because she had bigger fish to fry. Jeremy could wait until she worked things out with Jareth. Sarah flipped open her notebook to a fresh, clean sheet, poised her pencil and wondered what she could write.
"My world is split down the seams." With that she folded the paper and passed it back to Ashley. Let her sink her teeth into that, she couldn't think about such unimportant things right now.
She was still thinking about it when eleven chimes rang out on the clock, she counted them silently as she stared up at the canopy of her bed. She would forget for awhile, but whatever it was distracting her would always bring the thoughts back. A moment of play with Toby only reminded her of the feelings she had when she lost him. Speaking with Karen left echoes of how self-centered she had once been, and who had suffered because of it. Her mind was too abuzz to let her drift into that shifting veil of sleep.
She sighed, rolled over on her stomach and felt the bed shift beneath her, shift in very odd ways. A bed was NOT supposed to move like that. She immediately shot up, or tried to, but strong fingers encircled her arms just above the elbows. Her hands flattened against some silky material. And just below that---someone's heart beat. It was still so dark, but the slant of the light at her side told her she was not in her room anymore. As if the body beneathe her wasn't enough. She started to twist, struggle, but he only held on and laughed. Why was he so in love with tormenting her!
"Let Me UP!"
"Now, why would you wish to move from such an alluring position?"
Her mouth fell open. Her surprise complete. She writhed and turned, tried to shove her knee up in a way she knew would not fail in grasping his attention. Unfortunately, in the next second she found her back against the feather mattress and him straddling her rather suggestively. Somehow he had managed to 'turn the tables', so to speak.
"There are certain," he paused thoughtfully a moment, "shall we say---benefits? Yes, there are certain benefits to being my Queen, Sarah. Would you like me to show you?"
She shook her head quickly, tried to push the words out, any words that could force that sudden point of determination out of his eyes. Before she knew---before they could breathe into existence---he was leaning toward her and his silvery-gold hair swirled around his face. She watched him approach like some phantasmagoria, sharp but slightly blurred around the edges. A soft, warm glitter and cold plunge of shadows. In the last instant she swiftly turned her head aside, but it didn't help. His lips fell along her cheek, brushed her throat. He buried his face in the hair behind her ear and breathed in a deep, shuddering sigh. He shifted and the leather of his glove slid along her cheek. He was turning her face back, back to him. And then his mouth was pressing against hers, his top lip against her bottom. A prickling sensation danced through the touch---magic, for a lack of a more fitting word. Her breath caught and thrashed like a caged bird within her breast, and still it continued. With each movement, brush of his lips the feeling intensified. It was not unpleasant, but much more of it could prove fatal to a girl. Of course, that was probably what he was counting on.
"Jareth," she hissed into his mouth, without response. She slid her hands between them, trying not to think of how they were moving along the silky lace of his collar. She could feel the pounding of his heart, just where it was supposed to be. Why then was he so different from her when so much was the same? Never mind that. She refused to dwell on thoughts so dangerous, shoved her hands up with all her might. His weight lifted some, not much, but enough that she was able to writhe out from under him. Unfortunately, the stones rushed up to greet her once more. She was growing rather tired of this level of intimacy with his floor.
Jareth turned onto his side in one smooth motion and cradled his chin in his hand, the perfect picture of elegance and ease. Sarah quickly sat up and tucked her nightdress under her, not so gracefully. It may have been too late to outcry her innocence, but she'd be damned if she was giving up on modesty. Jareth glanced up and the movement seemed to bring light. Candles flared to life in the chandelier above her, one by one until the room was filled with a soft, inconsistent glow. It was amazing. It only reminded her of exactly what he was.
She stood up slowly, never taking her eyes from him. It was a look of utter distrust, one you give to only potentially dangerous situations. It didn't slip past him. His eyes seemed to settle somewhere below her chin, his face aglow with one of those half-mad smirks. And to her utter distress she looked down to find the medallion about her throat once more. But that wasn't the object of his intense study. Heat swept up into her face in a wild, tingling rush. Somehow, some time during their struggle the top three buttons of her gown had come undone, exposing an expanse of milky white cleavage. It took all her strength just to keep her hands from trembling as they moved over the buttons.
"You are the most annoying woman to exist," he smiled as the confusion and indignation mixed and fought in her hazel eyes. "I used to say to myself 'I pity the man that falls in love with Sarah Williams, no one deserves such a fate.'---"
"What!?"
"---'But I envy the man she falls in love with'"
Her mouth snapped shut and she blinked, but the momentary lapse quickly dwindled. She did not forget that he was the King of all charms when the title served his purpose. She placed her hands very definitely on her hips, an exact vision of aggravation.
"Save it for someone who cares." As the words passed her lips she knew she had said the wrong thing, but words said could not be taken back. I know that so well. A boiling anger filled his eyes and he was up and moving before she had time to think. He grabbed her around the waist and swung her, she screamed and clawed at his arms to try and anchor herself, but it was too late. She landed upon the bed in a startled heap with him on her heels. The same anger blazing---but o she wanted to believe it was anger.
"You care, Sarah. Don't force me to show you how much."
"Stop it. Stop it!" But he paid her no more heed than before, bruised her lips with a blind fury that sent her already fluttering heart into mad dances. "Stop it," she whispered again.
"Give in, Sarah," he spoke breathlessly against her mouth, "Give in." His hands fell over the buttons, but didn't bother with such trivial things. One swift movement and the buttons snapped, cloth ripped. The noise seemed to fill the room, louder than it should have been---loud enough to awaken the panic that had, up until that point, been sleeping like a coiled snake.
"Please! Please, I can't," tears were brimming in her eyes, though not of fear or pain. The proximity, the feel of his breath spanning over her skin. The combination of leather and lace, the silky glide of his hair against her throat . . .he knew exactly what he was doing. It was like all the hells of the world combining into one moment of heaven. And she didn't want it! She did not want it---She did, and the salty tears flowed faster. How could she have not known this?
Simple, so simple. The Law of Denial states that if something can be ignored, it will be. Of course, one forgets the shadow of the clock, and that all illusions tend to fade at the stroke of midnight. Desire or not, love or lust, what did any of it really matter? If it was anybody like Jeremy, anybody so mundane, then it could have easily been defeated or destroyed. But with Jareth, there was no way she could get close enough to do either. Indeed. Tell that to the creature that is nuzzling my cheek. She had to stop this. It couldn't be, she couldn't let it be. She had successfully escaped his control; she couldn't just hand it back to him now. In some cultures the title of Queen was just a prettier word for the King's personal slave.
Struggling hadn't freed her, neither had words. Maybe absolutely nothing could---so she relaxed into the mattress and tried to think of something else. The perfect actress. Of course, it was impossible to think of anything besides the warm, wet line of kisses falling along the base of her throat . . .She gave up on a distraction and concentrated on remaining lifeless, unresponsive. He continued for a moment, his mouth weaving down along her collarbone in tingling pressure. She swallowed back what would have been a high, keening whimper and forced every humming nerve into stillness. It was enough to finally grasp his attention.
"What is this, Sarah?"
She closed her eyes and promptly denied the existence of an effected core within her. He seemed to find her particularly amusing. She was NOT aiming for his amusement.
"You never did know when the game was over."
The bed shifted and her eyes fluttered open cautiously. The glowing light fell against his back and robed his face in shadows as he stood over her. He offered his hand without a flicker, smiling as if he was always so trustworthy.
"A truce, my dear," his accent wove through flirtatious tones, an odd, twinkling light had entered his mismatched eyes.
"A truce?"
He nodded definitely, once up, once down. "Where actions fail us, let us use words."
Sarah's eyebrows rose in slight disbelief, but what could words really hurt, she wondered. Don't answer that. She ignored his proffered hand and drew herself up, straightened the white cotton gown over her legs in an effort to forget that she, Sarah, had been doing anything so lascivious with the Goblin King. The fact that the front was ripped open halfway and the buttons were god knows where did not help. She immediately pulled the gown closed and stared beyond him with dismayed eyes. How much had he seen? Too much.
"I'm listening, so speak." The snap to her voice wasn't because of him, no matter how she wanted it to be.
With a smile that certainly wasn't comforting he sat down at the head of the bed, swung his legs up and crossed them at the ankles. Sarah promptly scooted to the very end, absently wrapping an arm about the post. The other was left to clutching at the ruined front.
"Let me seduce you."
She should have been prepared, prepared for any words that he threw to her feet, prepared to kick and stomp them into the ground. She gaped at him in silence. And when her mouth was finally able to obey . . .He held up a hand before she could speak.
"The truth of the matter is that you are Queen, rather you want it to be real or not." He nodded to the medallion and its presence suddenly screamed at her yet again. "That is your crown."
She raised the silver sun over her head. She stared at it for scarcely a moment then tossed it into his lap. "There's your crown. Find someone better suited for it."
"This cannot be changed by a mere flick of your wrist," he said. He seemed so tired suddenly, as if he had spent many hours in bone-deep thought. "But give me a week; let me show you what it means to be Queen . . .After that week you will still be Queen, but I will have a solution we can all live with."
"What solution," she asked suspiciously.
"Always so distrusting, my little Queen," he laughed softly, the evidence of weariness dissolving into his amusement. It should have been an insult, but he seemed proud. "Sleep brings you here, have you noticed that?"
"Yes."
"And sleep will escape you as long we keep falling into this same argument. A few nights will slip by unnoticed, but how will you feel after a few weeks?" He paused long enough to let that sink in, then continued. "I can give you your sleep back, Sarah. Days in your own world, but every time you close your eyes you will settle into the Underground---"
"Can't you do something about that," she cried impatiently. She shot him a glare that said 'You have magic, use it!'. He watched her for a moment then turned his eyes to the window.
"No. All I can do is send you back."
"Then send me back."
"If I send you back whenever you appear you will never sleep more than a few moments at a time. What I'm offering you is your own chamber here . . .where you can come every night to sleep. You won't even have to see me if that is what you wish," he smiled very small. "All I ask in return is one week."
"And if I don't agree?"
His eyes turned to her, empty of light. "I don't have to send you back."
She smiled pleasantly at that. "You really haven't changed at all. Always quick to threaten."
He presented one of those wonderfully graceful shrugs that meant something and nothing at all. She would have given almost anything to know exactly what he was thinking. At the same time she was certain she would flee in the possession of such knowledge. "It is not a threat, just simple truth."
"And if I do agree?"
"I seduce you."
"Try to seduce me."
The look on his face was nothing short of arrogant, smug. The cat lounging on a bed of canary feathers. "Your answer?"
She just glared at him, unable to make her mouth move over the words. Nights sleeping under his care? It didn't seem as though she were getting a fair deal. But she supposed it was better than a permanent residence. Could she really trust him? Her eyes fell over him, studied him. No. Did she really have a choice? Not if she wanted to be honest.
She closed her eyes, took a deep, calming breath as if in wait of pain, then nodded. It was like turning your head so you didn't see the needle. She refused to look, to see the triumph she knew was reflecting off his flashing eyes.
He clapped his hands together once, causing her to jump. "Very good. Now let's begin, shall we?"
She tensed visibly, her eyes wide on him with the urge to jump and flee like a frightened rabbit. What had she done? Well, her mind whispered back, anybody as stupid as you deserves what they get. She couldn't believe this all had started with something as simple as a length of thread. "What," she swallowed back so many words and began again, "What did you have in mind?"
He smiled. She didn't look at him for confirmation of the fact, but was just as certain. "That can wait," he whispered on a note of some promise that worried her much. "I offer you sleep now."
He had to word it like that, to remind her that she had agreed to play by his rules. "Sleep," she asked on a quiet hiss of air. "Where?" As if there was any way she could sleep knowing where she was and that he could be standing over her at any given time.
Please.
He moved languidly to what appeared to be a very heavy wooden door. One of two that she could see, the other set in the exact opposite wall. She supposed the one he was pulling open was the way out. She had no earthly clue where the other went. Guess which one bothered her the most.
"You may sleep here. Oh, don't look so suspicious. I'm not in the habit of molesting unconscious girls. Good night," he bowed out, closing the door behind him with what would have been an innocent smile, if she believed in such faerie tales. Jareth was a lot of things, innocent not being one of them.
She waited several minutes for the telling scrape and click of a lock, one that, to her relief, never came. She let go of a breath she didn't remember holding onto, then visibly slumped against the bedpost. He hadn't locked her in the room. She wasn't certain how she would have reacted when faced by that possibility. It would not have been good though.
After some time of staring, waiting, waiting for him to return and tell her it was all a ruse and he finally had her in the perfect position for his revenge---she sighed and blindly turned her eyes to a distant corner. She didn't believe for a second that his deviousness would just let her sleep. It seemed almost . . .too kind.
Kind? She shook her head moderately; she just couldn't get that word to stick to him. She must be crazy to trust him this much, enough to sit here when she could be looking for her own way out of his castle and back home.
It's done now. You promised him a week and now you are bound to it. "You stupid ninny."