Ahem. Hmm. Well. Now that ff.net is back up (somewhat) & I've returned from the back of beyond where there is no internet, we can expect things to be a little more frequent. I'm actually ahead! Yay! Though I meant to be finished. But then, I meant to finish this thing about three months ago. *sigh* Things are beginning to resolve themselves, but, of course, it won't be finished until everything's resolved. And then with vague ideas about sequels and omake and illustrations (just wait till I get back to my scanner!). . . I get the feeling To the Victor is going to haunt me for a long time. I just hope I can get back to working on all the other stuff I have sitting on the back burner.
But enough about me. You guys want the story. Um, I'm not quite sure, but I think our theme today is Amethyst by Yoshiki from X-Japan. Round up the disclaimers & brand 'em.
Ladymage ;)
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To the Victor Go the Spoils
Part 33 ~ Objects in the Mirror
"Well, that was certainly pleasant," he said coolly. "I imagine your friends are waiting for us. Shall we go?"
Sarah could barely speak. "No, uh, you go ahead. I need to get dressed." He nodded distantly and left.
Sarah sat up on the bed, still in shock from the abrupt change in Jareth's behavior. It was too much! What was she to think when, in the space of twelve hours, he had gone from polite courtesy to profound grief to hysteric concern and back to polite courtesy? What part of that could she take for truth?
Clutching a pillow, she angrily wiped the two tears from her face. Crying was not what she needed to do right now. But it was somewhat difficult when she felt like she had just been kicked solidly in the stomach. Clutching the pillow tighter, she quickly reviewed everything that had happened in the past day. She rose and dressed quickly, her mind made up. With her stubborn chin more in evidence than ever, she marched out of the room and out the front door.
She found Jareth several feet from the trailer, trying to talk to one of the men without using an interpreter. "Jareth," she called, "Jareth, we need to talk."
He turned towards her, his expression of mild interest cutting her. "I believe we covered all the pertinent topics. What more is there to discuss?"
Sarah had reached his side by that time. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she said, "This," and with no further ceremony yanked his head down and mashed her lips against his.
Sarah could sense something inside Jareth snap. He returned the kiss with a ferocity that overwhelmed her, making her feel as though she were drowning in raw emotion. She was barely conscious of his pendant digging into her chest, the fingers clutching her hard enough to leave bruises, the ninety degree angle of her neck. It was the fear, the desperation--the love--that flooded her senses and blocked out everything else. Including the whistles and cheers of over a dozen Mexican men of various shapes and sizes.
Once again, it was Jareth who broke away first, though he continued to hold Sarah in a tight embrace. Sarah wasn't entirely certain she would be able to stand upright if he let go. He stared at her, unblinking, his breath coming in hard gasps, his expression unreadable. And yet, Sarah could tell what passed behind those eyes.
"Jareth, I'm here," she said softly. "I'm real. And I'm just as scared as you are. But I promise you I will be here for you as long as you need me, for as long as you want me. Always. I swear it."
Jareth's face hardened as he pulled back, his hands gripping her arms painfully. "Do you understand nothing, girl?" he said harshly. "Forever is not something you can promise! You are mortal! You are human!"
"That's what really bothers you, isn't it?" Sarah spat, stepping out of his grasp. Tiny lightnings played in the air around her while the wind whipped the hair around their faces. "The fact that I'm human. I'm one of them. That's how I was born, Jareth, and I can't and won't change it! But you changed me. You created something neither Fae or human. I don't know what I am anymore! And that's because of you! And if you can't trust your own creation, then--" With that, Sarah ran. Across the field, between the wagons, and beyond the gypsy city.
"Nina!" Libertad, who had been standing a short distance away, ran to where Sarah had been a moment before. "Ay, Dios mio. Well," she said impatiently, "what are you waiting for? Go after her, idiot!"
Jareth drew himself up, cloaking himself in dignity. "Madam, I would kindly--" He got no further as the tiny woman raised herself up on her tiptoes and belted him over the head.
"This isn't the time for that!" she shouted angrily. "Blast me later if you want, but right now it's Sarah who needs you! Do you have any idea what could happen to her in this city, you fool?"
Jareth stared at the woman for a moment in barely disguised horror, and in the next moment vanished without a trace.
"What that boy needs," Libertad grumbled, "is a good thrashing." However, the worried expression remained on her face.
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It was furnished very simply, with a dozen or so wooden pews, rough statues of saints and angels lining the whitewashed walls. The crowning glory of the little church was its altar, a massive piece of intricately carved wood. It had long ago lost any gilding it had once possessed and the paint was flaking madly, yet it created an aura of majesty and reassurance and faith.
Sarah collapsed into one of the pews in the rear of the church and let the peace sink into her. Here was a place where she could let things go, let someone take her problems from her and guide her in the way she should go.
She stared at the large statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe above the altar for long minutes, then knelt and began to pray.
When she finished, she looked up, feeling more confident than she had in a long time. Standing, she took another look around before preparing to leave. It was surprising to see Jareth standing in the shadows of one of the niches in the wall, a distant gaze in his eyes as he looked towards the front of the church.
"Jareth?" she said softly.
"Sarah." Not even his eyes moved, his voice the only recognition of her presence.
"Jareth," Sarah tried again, moving towards the shadows. "Jareth, what do you want from me?"
"What do you want from yourself?" he mimicked.
"What do you want from yourself?" she shot back.
"Oblivion," he said calmly. "I was never meant to be eternal."
"No one is," Sarah answered gently.
"Perhaps not," he agreed, "but to someone who is not a god, immortality is an uncomfortable curse."
"I knew a man once," Sarah began quietly, "who believed that forever wasn't very long at all. And I know a boy who--who valued every second he spent with the people he loved."
"That boy died a long time ago, Sarah," Jareth replied in a colourless tone.
"No. That boy was wounded, Jareth, but he isn't dead. If he was, would I have felt his pain last night?"
"That was a ghost, nothing more."
"And 'This is a crystal, nothing more,'" Sarah retorted. "Jareth, why can't you let yourself go? Why can't you let yourself heal? Don't shut me out! Don't shut yourself out!"
"Why should I?" Jareth ground out, finally turning towards her. "Sarah, you have a family. You don't have any idea what it's like to lose your father, your brothers. To lose your mother. Do you know how long I had to live with that pain before I was finally able to shut it out?"
"And do you have any idea how lucky you are to have that in the first place? At least your mother loved you. Mine," she turned away from him, "Mine doesn't even want to remember I exist.
"You wish I didn't exist, either," Sarah continued bitterly, wrapping her arms around herself. "If I wasn't here, you'd never have lost. You'd still be king of the castle and none of this would ever have happened. "
"Sarah. . ."
She whirled back suddenly, staring him in the face with tears streaming down her cheeks, her expression hard. "Make your choice, Goblin Lord," she said harshly. "If you wish, I'll send you back to the Underground as the Goblin King. No conditions, no limits. Everything will be like it was before. You'll never have to hear from me again. And I won't hear from you."
"Is that what you want?" Jareth asked her evenly.
"That doesn't matter," she answered. "This is about what you want."
"Why should it matter what I want?"
Sarah slumped down, her head between her knees. "God, Jareth. I'm too tired to play games with you anymore. What you want matters to me, alright? I want you to be happy. But you're playing with my heart the way you would one of those damned crystals. It--it just hurts too much, Jareth, and I don't want to hurt anymore. So if you want to go, then go. Just end it. Please."
"I hurt you," Jareth repeated softly. "I hurt you?"
"Do you need a hearing aid?" she spat. "Yes, you hurt me. But, God help me, I would still ask you to stay."
"Playing with your heart?" Jareth seemed dumbfounded.
"I thought you'd figured that out, Jareth. Do I need to actually kill myself this time for you to figure it out or will almost work just as well?"
"I-- "
"Just leave, Jareth," she said tiredly. "If you don't want me, then just leave me alone."
A pair of black boots filled Sarah's vision. Amazed, she looked up to find herself staring Jareth in the face.
"It has been," he began hesitantly, kneeling in front of her, "a very long time since I have allowed myself to feel anything. It has been even longer since I have loved anyone. I am not used to not having control over myself and everything around me.
"And now everything has changed. My world has no up, no down, no direction. I don't know where I am or where I'm going, Sarah. I don't know who I am. And--"
"And?" she prompted softly.
He looked full into her eyes. "It frightens me, Sarah."
"I'm absolutely terrified."
"What?" Jareth was astonished.
"You think I was prepared for this?" she asked wryly. "Jareth, you were my worst enemy. Even now, I still don't know or understand you very well. I'm scared that you'll disappear or tell me you hate me or--" Her voice trailed off.
"Or what?" he said quietly.
"Or you'll just start treating me like you did before," she whispered. "Like I don't count. Like I don't exist."
"Not very likely. Not anymore. But, Sarah, what I fear is the inevitable."
"And I told you, Jareth, that I will be here for as long as you want me. Yes, I will die one day. It may be tomorrow, it may be seventy years from now. It will not be the same, but I swear to you, Jareth, I swear that my spirit will be with you, even after death."
"How can you be so certain?"
Sarah's face became determined as she reached into the pocket of her jeans. "This is how I can be so certain," she told him, and before he could stop her, she flicked open a pocket knife and drew the blade down the length of her forearm. "I swear to you--in blood, Jareth--before God and all of his angels and saints, that as long as you want me--for eternity, if you wish--I will be with you." The blood dripped down her arm, splashing the floor. Sarah set the knife down and watched the Fae defiantly.
Jareth was awed. Only the most powerful workings were sealed in blood. And the faith she must have in him. If he didn't reciprocate, she could very well bleed to death. If she believed in her words and in him, enough to risk her own life to try to bring him peace. . .
Could he do less?
He picked up the blade. "I swear to you, Sarah Williams," he intoned formally, plying the knife against his own arm, "by Three Holy Names, Cados, Adonai, Jehova, and by the Three Names of our honored ancestress, Avitu, Kali, Lilith, I will be by your side in the fullness of eternity, bound to you by blood, by honor--and by love."
Jareth would never forget the look in Sarah's eyes as he finished the oath and clasped his arm to hers.
Neither would forget the sensation of both magic and blood flowing out and around and through them. Sarah could feel the Fae blood moving through her veins like electricity, sharp and hot. Her blood flowed through Jareth like molten metal, an all-encompassing heat. He hissed in pain, the feeling reminding him of the iron sword he had once clutched in his hands. Now his hand tightened around Sarah's arm, as she gripped his own. They relaxed as magic washed over them, the Earth magic dark and thick and real, the Fae magic clear and light, spun from dreams and imaginings.
With a suddenness that surprised them both, it was over. Except for a tingling energy that lingered, the feeling was gone. The pair stared at each other for long moments, then glanced down at their arms. The only sign that remained was a long, dark scar on each of their arms that shimmered faintly in the light.
Jareth closed his eyes. "I can feel it," he whispered, nearly overwhelmed. "I can feel the power of the Earth that you draw on. I know how to use it. I can feel the bond of my magic and yours; our magic uses them both to temper each other and extend our power beyond anything I've ever imagined. Sarah," he continued, opening his eyes to look at her, amazed, "I think we've accomplished a miracle."
She smiled weakly. "Awakening the heart of a Fae king," she murmured, "was miracle enough." With those words, she slumped back in a dead faint. Jareth bit back a curse; yet, somehow, he knew he didn't have to worry. However, Sarah had lost more blood (though there was none to be seen) and she would need to rest. Tucking the knife in his belt, he picked the girl up carefully in his arms and, with a little trepidation, disappeared.
