AN: Yes, lucky thirteen... LOL Got my first flame for this story the
other day... was curious to see how long it would take. *shrugs* Neway
hope ya'll have had a good couple of days. I think I'm about half way
through this story so far... *mentally counts chapters* I think, and
just for the record this will almost, in all likelihood, not have a
sequel. I'm awful about writing them... =) So enjoy and review, while
it lasts, though this will not be my last Laby fic by any stretch of
the imagination... Specially since I have another one cooking already,
for future writing, a humorous one... An author can only write so much
angst/serious stuff you know. Though I have to finish my SM fics
before everyone kills me... hehe
Disclaimer: and ever and ever and, bleh, for ever. That's enough of that!
********************Sacrifices:Chapter Thirteen*******************
"Do you have any idea what it's like to be in love with someone who
may never return that love?"
Sarah opened her eyes, opened clear pain filled eyes and caught the
startled, mismatched stare of the Goblin King. God, her body burned
and her flesh was seared with the residue of Jareth's magical fire.
"And how much of my soliloquy did you hear foolish one?" Jareth asked
with a half feral, hungry smirk twisting his lips. His eyes were
resigned. Sarah sighed, a slip of sound torn from a weary throat, and
wished, for one single fervent second that she hadn't woke, wished
just as fervently that she had the ability to lie to this Goblin King,
her King.
"Enough," she replied softly, throat sore, almost raw. Jareth nodded,
coolly, distantly, but did not otherwise acknowledge her answer. Did
not try to retract his words. Sarah knew why. His word was law. He
may not have been eager to voice, to speak his feelings, but once he
did he would not try to unsay them. Other Kings might have but not
Jareth, not the Goblin King.
Sarah tried to sit. It seemed wrong, somehow, to face Jareth lying
down, practically helpless, no, helpless, or as helpless as she ever
was. Her strength failed her though, and it was only Jareth's tender,
warm hands that supported her.
"You really are a child sometimes Sarah. An attack like that would
have killed anyone, anyone but you. You shouldn't tempt Lady Luck.
Rest, recover your strength, and then we'll speak of your
insubordination." His voice was nonchalant, casual, the usual mix of
arrogance and scorn despite the gentleness of his touch, and Sarah
struggled through her fogged mind to try to grasp the layers, the
complexities that were the Goblin King. Nothing could ever just be
simple with him.
"Wait..." Jareth paused in his act of disentangling his hands from
hers.
"Yes Sarah?" he asked, tone a shade more distant, face so unyielding.
Damn she hurt so much.
"What, what happened in there? With the Dragon and Drevlyn and..."
She faltered, remembrance of the end of that encounter causing her
aches to become more pronounced. Jareth lifted regal brows in an
expression of learned, mocking surprise.
"Why, you disobeyed my orders and almost got yourself whisked away by
the new Dragon Queen. And then, you foolish girl, you stepped
directly into a magical attack not meant in any way for you." Sarah's
mind slid over the Dragon, the Dragon Prince, and focused on what
Jareth had called her.
"Foolish perhaps," she replied softly, not sure what prompted her to
respond to it, "but not a girl. No thirty five year old woman is a
girl." Jareth's hands slipped away, leaving her own naked, bare, more
bare than the lack of a single engagement ring made them somehow. He
rose from his seat on the bed and Sarah was faintly surprised to
realize that they were in the Goblin King's quarters. She didn't know
if it was her imagination or not but somehow she felt like the
distance Jareth put between them was needed, for her composure and,
oddly enough, for his own.
"You wear your years proudly Sarah," he quipped, tone even colder.
She didn't know what in the world caused her to respond with anger to
that subtle dig. She was in no shape to engage in, much less win, a
verbal sparring match with the Goblin King.
"And you wear your cruelty as a poor shield Jareth."
One quick, furious stride, brought him back to her side. He knelt,
for she couldn't rise, and his face, his lips, hovered inches from
hers. He was Jareth, Goblin King, ruler of the Labyrinth as he
hovered above her, resplendent, mystical, alluring, and dangerous.
His eyes glinted and his smile would have frightened a rabid wolf.
Ashen hair framed his angular, fierce face like some kind of demented
halo of pale gold. One hand, gloved in thin black silk, came up and
caressed her face.
His touch was still tender, still gentle, but there was fire in it
now, fire and, quite plainly, lust. Even if he mocked her age he was
not repulsed by it. Not in the slightest.
"Do you want to play games Sarah? Would you like to play with your
King?" He waited for her answer, confident in his superiority,
certain in his ability to frighten her, cow her.
Sarah laughed.
It was not the hysterical laughter of weeks pervious though, it was
low throaty, the laugh of a woman who was about to surprise a man.
"What if I said yes Jareth? Blatant innuendoes lose their shock
impact after twenty years. As you have repeatedly pointed out, I'm
not fifteen anymore." Damn it, if he wanted to leave he was going to
leave because he said so, not because he frightened her into wishing
him away. He sneered.
"More's the pity."
"Not as easy to control at thirty five, am I?" And suddenly he was
much closer than mere inches. Sarah's vision was obscured by a cloud
of that angelic, demonic hair as Jareth whispered in her ear, his
breath warming her neck as his hand trailed down to rest on shoulders
left exposed by her tattered dress.
"More easy dear Sarah, now I have a child's future to hold over your
head." Shock, and sudden, fierce rage of her own gave Sarah enough
strength to pull back and prop herself up with her elbows.
"Bastard," she spat as she met Jareth's frigid eyes. Oh he wasn't
about to deny that he loved her, in his own, twisted way, but he
wasn't about to forgive her for overhearing him, for finding out.
"Tut tut Sarah, mind your manners," he mocked, face a picture of
terrible amusement, though his eyes... How could his face, his voice,
be so completely and utterly different from his eyes? From his
hungry, lonely eyes.
"King Bastard?" she asked, her own voice tight, angry, angrier than
she had ever been at the Goblin King. Angry and, dizzy... Sarah
swallowed, eyes screwed shut to ward off her weakness as her body
lowered involuntarily towards the bed, sudden strength spent.
She opened them in time to see a moment of confusion and yes, pain, on
the Goblin King's face before the immovable mask returned and he
straightened, once again a statue of black silk and pale skin. He
tapped the side of one cheek with a gloved finger.
"Sometimes I wonder if you're really as brave as you appear, or simply
stupid."
"Funny," Sarah panted through waves of renewed, feverish pain, "I've
often wondered the same about you." Jareth growled and the sound, God
the sound set her teeth on edge.
"I am a dangerous man to cross Sarah." The statement was a warning,
clear as a bell. Sarah ignored it, for the moment forgetting Melanie,
forgetting everything but the here and now, the here and now and
thirteen hours of a game played so long ago.
"How long?" she demanded, changing the subject like lightning. Jareth
hissed.
"How long what?"
She dared it, risked meeting his eyes, just as boldly as she had that
time she had proclaimed him her King, and just as quickly tried to
assault him for making her immortal. Sarah shuddered. She didn't
quite know if she could handle an eternity of this...
"How long have you loved me?"
Jareth stared, stared without sneer or condescending smirk, stared,
open mouthed, shocked, numbed, confounded by the simple question.
Sarah refused to look away and her eyes, her eyes dared him to run,
dared him to lie. Dared him to ignore the question, and to prove
himself weak. Jareth could never refuse a challenge to his power,
his authority like that.
"So you do wish to play games," he whispered and the whisper, it was
weaker, a thing of stress and tension, not seduction. "I..." Jareth
looked away and when he turned back Sarah regretted asking because she
knew, as he started to answer, that Jareth would never forgive her for
asking, nay demanding, this of him, this simple, painful truth. For
further making him acknowledge that he was in love with her.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" he asked finally. And
suddenly she was the one who wanted to look away.
"No," Sarah breathed. Jareth's eyes darkened and Sarah remembered,
remembered her first glimpse of her savior, her knight in shining
armor, Devon. Jareth noted, saw the concession in her suddenly tear
filled gaze, noted it and just as bitterly knew where it came from.
He turned his heel and walked away. Sarah made no move to stop him,
to call him back. He hadn't answered her hundreds of questions,
hadn't told her of the baby Dragon or Drevlyn or, or what it meant to
be the subject of a Goblin King who was in love with her. But he had
answered her one question and that was all Sarah could handle at the
moment.
She sank down into the soft pillows and silken sheets, not even caring
that she was in Jareth's bed, simply thankful for its presence.
Simply, ashamedly, thankful for his absence. She sobbed, in physical
and emotional pain, hating herself for being half willing to play the
Goblin King's games, for almost killing herself in order to preserve a
friendship she wasn't sure she saved, for being stupid enough to eat
the peach the first time she was here and getting herself stuck back
in the Labyrinth in the first place.
For loving Devon with all she had and knowing that it would never be
enough. He was her Prince, her Knight, and her Savior. He would die
for her, gladly, would worship her even if she was a hundred, would
never forget an anniversary or forsake any vow he had ever taken in
honor of their almost union. He would have married her and have never
looked at another woman again.
But Jareth had ruined her. Had destroyed her fairy tale. She had
only been a child twenty years ago but even then she had sensed the
darkness in the Goblin King, and been attracted to it. Been drawn to
it. Lost her faith in the perfection of total nobility.
'A little darkness is good now and again, for it makes the light shine
that much brighter...' Devon was a beacon of goodness and Sarah loved
him so much, but not completely, not wholly. Not enough to lose
herself, not enough to be happy forever, not enough to be content.
Because she sensed that there was someone out there who could satisfy
her, could be that perfect mixture of darkness and light.
And Sarah was terribly, terribly afraid of who that person was.
other day... was curious to see how long it would take. *shrugs* Neway
hope ya'll have had a good couple of days. I think I'm about half way
through this story so far... *mentally counts chapters* I think, and
just for the record this will almost, in all likelihood, not have a
sequel. I'm awful about writing them... =) So enjoy and review, while
it lasts, though this will not be my last Laby fic by any stretch of
the imagination... Specially since I have another one cooking already,
for future writing, a humorous one... An author can only write so much
angst/serious stuff you know. Though I have to finish my SM fics
before everyone kills me... hehe
Disclaimer: and ever and ever and, bleh, for ever. That's enough of that!
********************Sacrifices:Chapter Thirteen*******************
"Do you have any idea what it's like to be in love with someone who
may never return that love?"
Sarah opened her eyes, opened clear pain filled eyes and caught the
startled, mismatched stare of the Goblin King. God, her body burned
and her flesh was seared with the residue of Jareth's magical fire.
"And how much of my soliloquy did you hear foolish one?" Jareth asked
with a half feral, hungry smirk twisting his lips. His eyes were
resigned. Sarah sighed, a slip of sound torn from a weary throat, and
wished, for one single fervent second that she hadn't woke, wished
just as fervently that she had the ability to lie to this Goblin King,
her King.
"Enough," she replied softly, throat sore, almost raw. Jareth nodded,
coolly, distantly, but did not otherwise acknowledge her answer. Did
not try to retract his words. Sarah knew why. His word was law. He
may not have been eager to voice, to speak his feelings, but once he
did he would not try to unsay them. Other Kings might have but not
Jareth, not the Goblin King.
Sarah tried to sit. It seemed wrong, somehow, to face Jareth lying
down, practically helpless, no, helpless, or as helpless as she ever
was. Her strength failed her though, and it was only Jareth's tender,
warm hands that supported her.
"You really are a child sometimes Sarah. An attack like that would
have killed anyone, anyone but you. You shouldn't tempt Lady Luck.
Rest, recover your strength, and then we'll speak of your
insubordination." His voice was nonchalant, casual, the usual mix of
arrogance and scorn despite the gentleness of his touch, and Sarah
struggled through her fogged mind to try to grasp the layers, the
complexities that were the Goblin King. Nothing could ever just be
simple with him.
"Wait..." Jareth paused in his act of disentangling his hands from
hers.
"Yes Sarah?" he asked, tone a shade more distant, face so unyielding.
Damn she hurt so much.
"What, what happened in there? With the Dragon and Drevlyn and..."
She faltered, remembrance of the end of that encounter causing her
aches to become more pronounced. Jareth lifted regal brows in an
expression of learned, mocking surprise.
"Why, you disobeyed my orders and almost got yourself whisked away by
the new Dragon Queen. And then, you foolish girl, you stepped
directly into a magical attack not meant in any way for you." Sarah's
mind slid over the Dragon, the Dragon Prince, and focused on what
Jareth had called her.
"Foolish perhaps," she replied softly, not sure what prompted her to
respond to it, "but not a girl. No thirty five year old woman is a
girl." Jareth's hands slipped away, leaving her own naked, bare, more
bare than the lack of a single engagement ring made them somehow. He
rose from his seat on the bed and Sarah was faintly surprised to
realize that they were in the Goblin King's quarters. She didn't know
if it was her imagination or not but somehow she felt like the
distance Jareth put between them was needed, for her composure and,
oddly enough, for his own.
"You wear your years proudly Sarah," he quipped, tone even colder.
She didn't know what in the world caused her to respond with anger to
that subtle dig. She was in no shape to engage in, much less win, a
verbal sparring match with the Goblin King.
"And you wear your cruelty as a poor shield Jareth."
One quick, furious stride, brought him back to her side. He knelt,
for she couldn't rise, and his face, his lips, hovered inches from
hers. He was Jareth, Goblin King, ruler of the Labyrinth as he
hovered above her, resplendent, mystical, alluring, and dangerous.
His eyes glinted and his smile would have frightened a rabid wolf.
Ashen hair framed his angular, fierce face like some kind of demented
halo of pale gold. One hand, gloved in thin black silk, came up and
caressed her face.
His touch was still tender, still gentle, but there was fire in it
now, fire and, quite plainly, lust. Even if he mocked her age he was
not repulsed by it. Not in the slightest.
"Do you want to play games Sarah? Would you like to play with your
King?" He waited for her answer, confident in his superiority,
certain in his ability to frighten her, cow her.
Sarah laughed.
It was not the hysterical laughter of weeks pervious though, it was
low throaty, the laugh of a woman who was about to surprise a man.
"What if I said yes Jareth? Blatant innuendoes lose their shock
impact after twenty years. As you have repeatedly pointed out, I'm
not fifteen anymore." Damn it, if he wanted to leave he was going to
leave because he said so, not because he frightened her into wishing
him away. He sneered.
"More's the pity."
"Not as easy to control at thirty five, am I?" And suddenly he was
much closer than mere inches. Sarah's vision was obscured by a cloud
of that angelic, demonic hair as Jareth whispered in her ear, his
breath warming her neck as his hand trailed down to rest on shoulders
left exposed by her tattered dress.
"More easy dear Sarah, now I have a child's future to hold over your
head." Shock, and sudden, fierce rage of her own gave Sarah enough
strength to pull back and prop herself up with her elbows.
"Bastard," she spat as she met Jareth's frigid eyes. Oh he wasn't
about to deny that he loved her, in his own, twisted way, but he
wasn't about to forgive her for overhearing him, for finding out.
"Tut tut Sarah, mind your manners," he mocked, face a picture of
terrible amusement, though his eyes... How could his face, his voice,
be so completely and utterly different from his eyes? From his
hungry, lonely eyes.
"King Bastard?" she asked, her own voice tight, angry, angrier than
she had ever been at the Goblin King. Angry and, dizzy... Sarah
swallowed, eyes screwed shut to ward off her weakness as her body
lowered involuntarily towards the bed, sudden strength spent.
She opened them in time to see a moment of confusion and yes, pain, on
the Goblin King's face before the immovable mask returned and he
straightened, once again a statue of black silk and pale skin. He
tapped the side of one cheek with a gloved finger.
"Sometimes I wonder if you're really as brave as you appear, or simply
stupid."
"Funny," Sarah panted through waves of renewed, feverish pain, "I've
often wondered the same about you." Jareth growled and the sound, God
the sound set her teeth on edge.
"I am a dangerous man to cross Sarah." The statement was a warning,
clear as a bell. Sarah ignored it, for the moment forgetting Melanie,
forgetting everything but the here and now, the here and now and
thirteen hours of a game played so long ago.
"How long?" she demanded, changing the subject like lightning. Jareth
hissed.
"How long what?"
She dared it, risked meeting his eyes, just as boldly as she had that
time she had proclaimed him her King, and just as quickly tried to
assault him for making her immortal. Sarah shuddered. She didn't
quite know if she could handle an eternity of this...
"How long have you loved me?"
Jareth stared, stared without sneer or condescending smirk, stared,
open mouthed, shocked, numbed, confounded by the simple question.
Sarah refused to look away and her eyes, her eyes dared him to run,
dared him to lie. Dared him to ignore the question, and to prove
himself weak. Jareth could never refuse a challenge to his power,
his authority like that.
"So you do wish to play games," he whispered and the whisper, it was
weaker, a thing of stress and tension, not seduction. "I..." Jareth
looked away and when he turned back Sarah regretted asking because she
knew, as he started to answer, that Jareth would never forgive her for
asking, nay demanding, this of him, this simple, painful truth. For
further making him acknowledge that he was in love with her.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" he asked finally. And
suddenly she was the one who wanted to look away.
"No," Sarah breathed. Jareth's eyes darkened and Sarah remembered,
remembered her first glimpse of her savior, her knight in shining
armor, Devon. Jareth noted, saw the concession in her suddenly tear
filled gaze, noted it and just as bitterly knew where it came from.
He turned his heel and walked away. Sarah made no move to stop him,
to call him back. He hadn't answered her hundreds of questions,
hadn't told her of the baby Dragon or Drevlyn or, or what it meant to
be the subject of a Goblin King who was in love with her. But he had
answered her one question and that was all Sarah could handle at the
moment.
She sank down into the soft pillows and silken sheets, not even caring
that she was in Jareth's bed, simply thankful for its presence.
Simply, ashamedly, thankful for his absence. She sobbed, in physical
and emotional pain, hating herself for being half willing to play the
Goblin King's games, for almost killing herself in order to preserve a
friendship she wasn't sure she saved, for being stupid enough to eat
the peach the first time she was here and getting herself stuck back
in the Labyrinth in the first place.
For loving Devon with all she had and knowing that it would never be
enough. He was her Prince, her Knight, and her Savior. He would die
for her, gladly, would worship her even if she was a hundred, would
never forget an anniversary or forsake any vow he had ever taken in
honor of their almost union. He would have married her and have never
looked at another woman again.
But Jareth had ruined her. Had destroyed her fairy tale. She had
only been a child twenty years ago but even then she had sensed the
darkness in the Goblin King, and been attracted to it. Been drawn to
it. Lost her faith in the perfection of total nobility.
'A little darkness is good now and again, for it makes the light shine
that much brighter...' Devon was a beacon of goodness and Sarah loved
him so much, but not completely, not wholly. Not enough to lose
herself, not enough to be happy forever, not enough to be content.
Because she sensed that there was someone out there who could satisfy
her, could be that perfect mixture of darkness and light.
And Sarah was terribly, terribly afraid of who that person was.