Grr. . . So many loose ends. I could have ended it with this chapter, but nooo, I have too many loose ends wagging their little tails at me and smirking. I suppose it's my fault, but I think I'll blame the Jareth-muse. Come here, little Jareth-muse. . . I'm not going to hurt you. . . much. Anywho, the title is a line from the song Charade. Jareth's song is a slightly edited translation of Khodahafez by Zazel/Koyasu Takehito. I've never heard the original song (though I've tried ;_; ) but the lyrics seemed perfect for our lovely couple. Round up the disclaimers and brand 'em. Oh, & I just got AIM, so if you want to IM me, I'm LadymageSamiko. Wow, what a shocker.
Ladymage ;)
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To the Victor Go the Spoils
Part 34 ~ Song of My Heart's Composing
But, as life often has it, he was not to be allowed to rest. A few seconds later, Jareth felt a hand joggling his arm. He opened his eyes to find an stone-faced Libertad crooking her finger at him. Outside, it said, and he reluctantly obeyed, gently extracting himself and placing a pillow under Sarah's head before following the woman outside.
It wasn't difficult to see that the old woman was not happy with him. "Estupido!" she hissed, once more cuffing him upside the head. "What in the name of God do you think you're doing!"
His eyes flashed. "Madam," he ground out. "I would appreciate your keeping your hands off my person."
"Just because you're Fae does not mean that you can do as you please," Libertad informed him.
"And what's to stop me?" he smirked. "You?"
"Who else?" With that, an aura of magic grew around her, then condensed near her hands. Jareth blinked in surprise. "You see," she said conversationally, "as a Fae, you have a lot of magic, as I'm sure you know. And alone, I couldn't even begin to challenge you. But everyone in this camp adores Sarah and since we all agree, I have no trouble borrowing power from them as well. And I can control it."
There was no doubt in Jareth's mind about that. He could feel the emotion in the air being channeled into magic and, in turn, being channeled towards the tiny woman who stood before him. She held an enormous amount of power in her hands and was playing with it almost casually. Of course, this was nothing compared to the magic he had gained from bonding with Sarah, but then, he didn't feel like leveling entire cities, either.
The Fae bowed in a formal, old-fashioned manner. "Senora Libertad," he proclaimed in ringing tones. "I fully comprehend your concern for your granddaughter and I do honor it. I promise you that, as far as it lies within me, I shall cause no harm to come to her and protect her from all other enemies. I would further ask your kindness to reach so far as to allow me to pay court to your granddaughter and, indeed, your permission that I may ask her for her hand in marriage."
With a rapidity that startled him, the magic diffused from her hands and sank into the ground. "Well," she said, smiling, "that's an entirely different situation. I take it you've finished fooling around?"
With a faint grin, Jareth straightened, then displayed the long scar on his forearm.
Everyone's eyes widened and a low murmur of talk made its way around. Libertad turned. "I think everyone knows what this means?" she asked in a loud voice.
A loud rumble answered her. Uncertain as to its meaning, Jareth looked around. He was barely able to give a smothered yelp as he was swarmed over by a mob of grim faced gypsy men.
"Abuela?" A dreamy-eyed Sarah appeared at the door of the wagon. "What's going on?"
"How are you feeling, mi nina?" Libertad asked. Jareth had already disappeared in a mass of bodies.
"Wonderful," she replied with a misty smile. "What's all the noise?"
"Just the men making a fuss, as usual," her grandmother told her. "You go get some rest, chiquita. You look like you need it."
Sarah nodded and disappeared back inside. Libertad rolled up her sleeves and set her jaw. "Pues," she said to herself, "a trabajar."
Sarah awoke to the sound of a voice in her ear and the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. "Sarah. Sarah, wake up."
"Another five minutes," she muttered, and rolled over. However, it was a narrow couch. Thump!
"Ow," she grumbled, rubbing her hip. She looked up. "Abuela."
"How are you feeling, mi nina?"
Sarah thought for a few seconds. "Wonderful," she admitted, smiling from ear to ear.
"Good," her grandmother replied, "because we have a lot of preparing to do."
"'Preparing?'" Sarah repeated, confused. "What are we preparing for?"
"Por una fiesta," Libertad said, pulling her granddaughter to her feet. "And you need to look your best for your young man, no?"
"He's not exactly a 'young' man, Abuela," Sarah remarked drily, holding her arms out as Libertad worked to remove her blouse.
"Eh. Same thing. You want to look nice, don't you?"
"Yes," Sarah answered, wondering. "I do."
"Good," Libertad said approvingly. Having worked Sarah down to her underwear and persuaded her into a plain cotton underskirt, she opened the front door. "Mujeres!" she called. Almost immediately, Sarah was swamped by women both young and old and she vanished in a welter of fabrics.
It was some time later when she was allowed to emerge. To their credit, the ladies had left quite a bit to Sarah's natural beauty, leaving her hair flowing around her shoulders, topped with a crown of tiny braids and thin ribbons, and her face bare of makeup save for some dark stuff that highlighted her eyes and lips. She wore a white satin dress, its low neckline a deep ruffle ringed with bright ribbons of purple and green. It was bloused at the wide green sash and blossomed into a full, heavy skirt, which had another wide, ribboned ruffle at the hem. Sarah tried twirling, adoring the feel of the fabric lifting around her in a wide, perfect circle. She laughed in childish delight.
One of the younger women laughed with her. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked, teeth flashing in a smile. "We didn't have time to make a new one; this one is the one I wore for my fiesta a year ago. I'm glad it fits, though I was somewhat older." She grinned and the other women smiled at each other, as though there was a special secret.
"Thank you for letting me wear it," Sarah said, oblivious. "It's absolutely gorgeous." And it was, though far simpler than anything she usually imagined herself in.
"Okay, muchachas," Libertad's voice rose. "Let's teach my girl to dance." As everyone bustled outside, the woman drew close to the girl. "You look beautiful, mi nina," she told Sarah quietly. "I hope this evening will be the same for you."
"It's already been magical," she assured her grandmother, smiling. "But where is Jareth? I haven't seen him since he brought me home."
"The men have been getting him ready," Libertad answered glibly. "He has a lot to learn and I think Carlos Daniel is the only one who speaks English well enough." She smiled to herself. The Fae had been almost wild-eyed as he was spirited away by a couple dozen men all talking and laughing a mile a minute in Spanish. True love or not, he could certainly use a few more lessons in humility.
It was over an hour later before they finished guiding Sarah through the steps of the dance. She learned them quickly enough, but she kept asking what the dance was for and all they would tell her was that it was "for the fiesta." Even when she had fixed her grandmother with a skeptical glare, it was the only answer she got. But it seemed to be a dance for two, so she assumed she would be dancing it with Jareth.
Darkness had just fallen and Sarah was bustled back into one of the wagons and told to keep still as the women worked to fix everything that had come undone during the practice. Sarah's hair was redone, her makeup refreshed, her dress tidied. She could barely hear the noises outside over the chattering as the work was done. Feeling a little tired, Sarah just wanted everyone to leave her alone and more than once had to stop herself from telling them all to just shut up. But she would clench her teeth, close her eyes, and finger the scar on the inside of her arm. It had been a gamble, she knew. One of the quickest ways to commit suicide, she had heard, was to slit your wrists longways like that, not across. But, somehow, she had sensed that only something that drastic could wake Jareth up and show him that she meant what she said. And it had worked. And now she was so happy she wanted to shout the news aloud.
But there were several people telling her to hush and quite a few more talking so loudly, nobody would have been able to hear her, anyway.
Then, a whisper ran through the group. "He's starting. He's starting." Sarah was helped up, but stopped before she could go out the door.
". . .y aqui es la reina de esta noche, nuestra hija, Sarah!" The words sending her mind reeling in confusion, Sarah was guided out the door and down the steps.
The clearing had become absolutely magical. No bonfire was present this evening; all the light came from torches set against the wagons and trucks that surrounded it. At one end, the rich silk shirts of the men glimmered like jewels. At the other, the bright dresses of the women bloomed with color. In the center, an older man, his sash a flowing gold, stood beside her grandmother, whose matching sash glowed against her crimson dress. Her dark hair, only lightly threaded with grey, was braided into a thick coronet.
To one side, as tall and straight as a lance, his gaze as proud as Lucifer and, as it rested on Sarah, almost frighteningly tender, stood Jareth. His black trousers and boots as well as his deep purple shirt nearly faded into the darkness, leaving his face and hands startling pale.
Their eyes locked and, for Sarah, everything else became distant, remote and unimportant. He was all that mattered in her world, everything that was good and evil, ephemeral and eternal. Nothing else was wanted, nothing else was needed.
Dimly, the words being spoken made their way back into Sarah's conscious.
It was her grandmother's voice. "We are here tonight to celebrate my granddaughter's return to the caravan. But, as most of you know, we gather here for another purpose as well. Lord Jareth of the Goblin Kingdom, step forward."
Sarah looked uncertainly from one face to the next, finding no hint of what was about to happen. Still, she trusted both Jareth and her grandmother, so she kept silent as she took her place among them.
Jareth came to stand directly in front of her. She felt the magic building in and around him as he opened his lips and sang.
Heat rains upon me as I walk my road
Leading to meet you now
I want to laugh as the light pours upon me
I want to hold you and never let go, ever
The first time I looked in your eyes
They showed anxiety, dread, fear,
Certainly it must be destiny,
the words gently whispered
And I wanted to find out
I love you so completely, so much I care
Our lips pressed together, kiss me right now,
A precious warmth,
'Cause I need you
Thoughts of you changed everything
Filled up my entire soul
it must be destiny, the words mumur in number
Bewitched as if remade
Words aren't needed, tell me you love me
Your throbbing, let me feel you
I love you so much, all through the night
We'll be together forever
I love you so completely, so much I care
Our lips pressed together, kiss me right now,
A precious warmth,
'Cause I need you
Suddenly, Sarah understood. She understood the flurry of preparations, the women's comments, Jareth's "disappearance," the dance they had shown her, the reason they wouldn't tell her why. And she understood Jareth's words.
"Jareth," Sarah proclaimed, "Lord of the Underground, receive my answer." With no further fanfare or music, she began to dance.
It began fast and tumultuous, became slow and sensual, turned mysterious, returned to clarity. Sarah danced as she felt, the emotions of the last several days, of the last twenty-four hours, guiding her as she spun her way through the clearing. When finally she stopped, she was in Jareth's arms, her lips parted as she tried to catch her breath. She was unable to once the fae bent down and kissed her thoroughly. Very thoroughly.
Faintly, words came through the haze. "They are promised!" cried a deep masculine voice. Cheers rang throughout and the music began, trumpets and guitars and violins. The couple found themselves pulled apart, ringed by circles of men and women. Somewhat dazed, they sought each other out in the crowds, their eyes meeting after long moments.
Jareth was mesmerized by Sarah's eyes, large and dark with the love and trust she had for him. Her arm rose as she was jostled and, though the light was poor, he could make out the glimmer of the new scar. He fingered his sleeve beneath which his own scar lay. She trusted him then and now more than she ought. Could he ever really come to deserve that faith? As their eyes met again, he knew for a certainty that he could not, but he would spend the rest of his life trying.
The beat of the music changed, becoming steady as everyone prepared for the dance they had drilled into the couple earlier that day. Sarah was on one side surrounded by a ring of women and girls, Jareth on the other with the men and boys. For several minutes, they danced alone as the gypsies circled them. Then the circles broke, melting together as Sarah and Jareth found their way towards the center. They kept perfect time, missed not a single step, though their attention was focused solely on each other. The others swirled around them in couples and groups but so intent were they that they missed the magic the others raised in a prayer for the happiness and prosperity of the new couple. They even ignored the power they themselves raised, a mix of love and hope and faith that drew them together and constructed a wall against any opposition that would dare come their way.
