Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes
Two: Destiny
Cover the madness/Cover the fear/No one will ever/Know you were here//A figure in the hallway light/Returning like a ghost/Something that was left behind/Something in a child's mind//A picture worth a thousand lies/A thousand words/A thousand eyes//Bury my lovely/Hide in your room/Bury my lovely/Forget me soon/Forget me/Forget me now/Forget me not//
The night swirled about him, enfolding him as the only cloak he wore while the shadows twisted and writhed in dances macabre and profane, mingling with the creatures humans oft-termed "things that go bump in the night". The darkness held no trepidation for one of its own, and he was a child of darkness- just as his minions were spawned from fear and shadow. They rarely took a form of much substance, unless that form were what adults condescendingly passed off as nightmares and children refused to name even with all the lights turned on and others surrounding them. The children were wiser, with an instinctual knowledge of the power of true names instilled in them, yet their visions of distorted dwarves and beasts weren't remotely close to brushing the surface of the terror and reality of the instruments of madness he had somehow come to possess. There was a saying he was rather fond of quoting, considering he had been the inspiration for the mortal writer's caution, and he repeated it in his mind now: He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. Sarah had done the former; the boy, Toby, had done the latter, and it had nearly cost him his life. He slept now- a simple enchantment had seen to that, but the healing magics had left Jareth far more drained...and he could heal only body, not restore Toby's broken soul. For this was not the first time the boy had exercised self-mutilation as a way of regaining control of his life, though it was- thankfully- the only serious suicide attempt. He once considered me, he thought with more than a hint of bitter irony, his "guardian angel". When, after taking his loathing and inner darkness out on himself, he would wake from a night of dreaming of me to discover his wounds gone. Perhaps he believed a higher being had a purpose for his life...until now.
The Goblin King allowed himself the luxury of taking in the sight of the young mortal who had called him away from his realm, back to the very room where the boy's sister had done the same fifteen years ago. Toby wore a long red silk shirt, unbuttoned to show a pale, slender, chiseled body built for agility rather than bulk. On his dexterous hands were rock-climbing gear black leather gloves, the kind without fingers. His lower body was clad in tight black jeans and black army-style steel-toed boots. His hair was tied back from his face with a strip of black leather, but a few elusive strands had fallen, framing his face. Dark sunglasses unnecessarily obscured his eyes, though they lay askew on his face from the impact of his fall. Jareth removed them now, placing them atop his own forehead. They suited his contemporary choice of clothes, and it was crucial that he remain able to see whether the boy had the devil's eyes, as he did; his night vision being far superior to a mortal's, the room was well-lit to him. Toby's chest rose and fell in the pattern of deep sleep, and though he doubtless dreamt, he gave no sign of what his dreams entailed.
Who is in your dreams, I wonder? Is it me? Is it her? She comes now, I sense it. Sparks will fly concerning you, perhaps even before you wake. You needn't worry, however. Your destiny was written long ago, and it cannot be changed now. Not a goblin, no- but you will become one of us, and you will do so willingly. However, I shall wait until the audience arrives for the show to begin. I never play to an empty house. Jareth had made an effort to dilute the oppressive, almost suffocating aura of the boy's distress, and in covering that atmosphere he had toned down his own distinctly ethereal signature as well. Hardly anything was amiss, and the only evidence that something terribly wrong had occurred was soaking into the carpet, for Toby's wrists had- thanks to arcane intervention- healed, and the cuts were now merely scars. Jareth took them in his hands, and as he stroked the wounds with his thumbs, shaking his head, he murmured, "Such a pity."
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Sarah slammed on the brakes the moment the Ferrari hit the driveway, practically leaping out of the car, still remembering to lock it behind her- she knew her old neighborhood too well to leave it. The front door would be locked. It was pointless trying to open it, and she knew Toby wouldn't answer the bell, even if nothing had happened- but the emergency key might still be under the front mat. Sarah cursed under her breath when she found nothing there, as well as side and back porch doors locked. Toby may be a latch-key kid, but he's not stupid! And from the looks of things, he's home alone. But he has my old room... I could climb the tree and unlock the window like I used to when I snuck out as a teen- ah, desperate times, as they say. Well, there's no stunt double to fill in for you this time, Sarah Williams- I wish to God I hadn't developed that fear of heights after the Escher- well, anyway. She would have stopped and climbed back down at many points during her shimmy up the tree and in the window had not the thought of Toby in danger, needing her, spurred her onward. Eventually, however, Sarah made it into her former room and collapsed in a relieved, adrenaline-charged heap on the floor. The night-filled room was lit only by six or so candles that were already more than halfway melted, so in her disoriented state combined with the room's shadows, she can be forgiven for neglecting to notice the figure leaning, gracefully casual, against the wall opposite from her ere he spoke.
"Breaking and entering into your own home?" Wry amusement dripped from the elegant masculine voice suddenly invading the silence. "I must admit I'm appalled," the voice drawled in a silky way that sounded anything but. "Sarah, Sarah." A sigh. That condescending, bitter-sweet poison-honeyed way he said her name struck a painfully responsive chord within her.
"You! How dare you set foot in this house?" Her voice lacked the passion she needed to pull off the exclamation.
"I have been summoned here," he replied, slightly smirking at her sheer astonishment. The shadows gave him the advantage- all she could see was his body's dark, hazy outline, but her face was made the more real of the two, illuminated by starlight filtering in through the window. "It is my right." He told her nothing she didn't already know. As Sarah's eyes adjusted to the dark, she noticed Toby lying in the center of a ring of candles, obviously unconscious.
"Is that blood? You mother-fucking bastard, I swear if you did this to him, I'll-" she began, but he cut her off with his haughty laugh.
"Such unladylike language." The Goblin King extended a long, leather-clad finger to his cheek and tapped it, seemingly studying something. He cocked his head at her. "I wonder if that Marc boy you've been dating taught you that..." He put a slight emphasis on 'boy'.
"You know his name?" She squeaked incredulously. He continued smoothly as if there had been no interruption.
"Considering your status-quo, I'd say he's hardly your equal."
"That's not true! And who are you to say whether or not he's sub-standard?" She shot back defensively, far too late to be sincere.
"Because, my dear, I know exactly whom your basis for comparison is," he said lightly, then grew serious, holding her gaze. "You cannot lie to me, Sarah, not anymore. Your basis is me." She broke away from his intense gaze, heat burning in her cheeks.
"So maybe Marc isn't the most handsome man in the world," she conceded reluctantly. "And he doesn't have 'sex appeal'-" he grinned wickedly at the implications of that comment, "-or an air of mystery and enchantment and danger and seduction cloaking him that overwhelms your senses every time he's near. But...he's organized," she reasoned lamely. Jareth barely stifled his laughter with a half-hearted attempt at a dignified cough. "And he's...kind and gentle, and he loves children!" She glared daggers at him in her best actress look of offense. He merely artfully raised a delicately upswept eyebrow at her, not flinching under the attempted attack, and commented, "and he loves the act involved in making them as well, no doubt," not bothering to cover the barb in his tone. Her eyes narrowed at him, and she unleashed the culmination of her tirade.
"He holds me and my boundaries in the utmost respect!" She flung the word at him like a weapon. He stepped out of the darkness into the circle now, and the candles flared with a blue inferno, illuminating his face. Startled by the angry demonstration of his normally concealed emotions, her eyes connected immediately with his, and the dark persuasion in them drew her in. She found her resistance fading, losing herself... Sarah's self-defense mechanisms belatedly kicked in. "You can't do this to me-" she murmured, trying to snap out of his spell. Both of them knew it for the lie it was. "Stop-" she pleaded, her eyes betraying her lips.
"You don't want me to." He amusedly voiced what she hadn't dared. She looked appropriately outraged, and opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a gloved hand. "Enough. This dance has been done before in all its many variations, and I am not one to repeat myself. You will say to me, 'My will is as strong as yours.' I will ask, 'Is that so?' And when you find you cannot force yourself to say what you feel you should, you will accuse me of putting you under an enchantment." He walked through the chessboard-like scene as his fingers pointed and spun the dance almost of their own accord. "What you unfailingly lack the insight to realize, however, is this: Even were I using an enchantment on you, which as I've told you would be reiterate and thus hardly my style, the glamourie can only work if the subject desires it to on some level. Do you understand?" He asked her, that same cool emotional detachment ringing with an underscored intensity. His features were a mask before he smirked slightly, voice quietly mocking, "You could have been the greatest among mortals." Sarah was flooded with a maelstrom of emotions, and as the repressed feelings swept over her, a car slowly circled around the cul-de-sac, speakers blaring from open windows: "And I'm trying to convince myself that the way I feel is all I have/I don't believe in sure things/There's pain in what the truth brings..." She started crying silently from regret and longing. Outside, it poured.
"Perhaps mortal musicians aren't quite as incompetent as I initially thought," Jareth mused, watching Sarah's tears cease as she realized there was no one there to dry them. There was a time, perhaps, when he would have taken her in his arms and comforted her, but if he still retained any inclination toward doing so, it was not present in him tonight. Her gaze flickered to her brother, then back to Jareth, and she was as defiant as ever of his icy cruelty.
"And what of these words? 'The Goblin King had fallen in love with the girl...'" He threw back his head and laughed, baring pointed teeth, hands on slender hips.
"How- romantic," he observed sarcastically, sneering the word as if it were something distasteful. "The darkness falling in love with the light. Do you take me for a fool, Sarah? As one of your own so eloquently penned it, 'of all weapons, love is the most deadly and devastating, and few there be who thrust their fate in its hands.' I never denied being cruel, but you... still, you understand so little." He looked at her with an overwhelming pity that, though contrived, formed a growing lump in her throat. Determined to rid herself of it, she shook her head vigorously.
"I defeated you." She objected flatly. "You have no power here. Give me back the child!"
"No, Sarah. Have you forgotten your own words so soon? You lost. Can't you see that? You lost when you rejected my offer to show you your dreams. You lost when you mocked my Labyrinth and my power, and paid dearly with time. You lost when you denied your feelings and destroyed your own fantasy; you lost yet again when you defied me and threw away those very dreams in your 'Escher Room'. You think even now that those were the times you 'won', I see it in your eyes, but you are wrong. For had you looked into your dreams but one of those times, you would have seen that I was there. You desired me then, Sarah, and still do, although you would wish it otherwise and have hidden your desire ever since. I gave you back the child, and in that you were allowed to 'win'. However, you remained unwilling to admit to yourself or understand that nothing that passed between us was ever truly about the boy, and so Toby is mine. I am merely here to reclaim him," he said coolly.
"And why would you want him?" Sarah practically spat.
"Because this world does not," Jareth replied, a deadly controlled anger in his voice and face that made Sarah tremble. "It is obvious that he has been rejected because of his talents and cannot deal with his pain." He indicated the unconscious figure on the floor. "He would do far better to learn from what I can teach him, and become as I am. Nevertheless, I will show you my generosity in this- let Tobias decide if he will accept his destiny." His eyes glittered with an unspoken assurance, some knowledge that made Sarah wary to agree. She never got that chance, however. For by some quirk or twist of fate, it was at that particular moment that the teenager in question stirred, weakly pushed himself into a sitting position, and cracked open a cold azure eye.