I set to work on my room. First, all of the suited armour could go over there. Easy huh? Just pick up a full suit of armour and carry it for twenty feet. I ended up kicking it into pieces –at the cost of my toes – and lugging it. So I was fit off all that sitting at desks.
When I had a nice pile of plate armour I started looking behind the drapes. They where heavy and dusty, with rich colours that would have looked better when they where new. They seemed to follow a certain person style. The one I was gingerly lifting off the wall had a scene of a willowy woman surrounded by Goblins. Or maybe it was just the contrast.
The next one was fifty shades of red. And no, it wasn't embarrassed to be stuck on the boudoir that the Goblin King had given me. It was some Underground battle scene. Blood was everywhere, along with severed body parts and wicked looking blades. Obviously it was just the cannon fodder dying or they'd have been magic blazing in the sky. This one was strategically placed at the foot of my bed. That would put anyone in a great mood to wake up to. Good job when I wake up I'd have moved all of this crap.
I stifled a squeal as a huge spider scurried out from under the cotton and velvet, with silky webs trailing from its arse. It was huge! Bigger than my hand, with brown hair... Oh god! Goose pimples paraded across my skull and down my body. I shuddered, nearly dropping the hanging. My hair brushed across my cheeks, and I flinched, afraid it was one of eight legs, making its crawling way across my head.
Afraid of spiders? Brave tuff me?
As quickly as I could, with out being to wimpy about it I rolled all the hangings up and dumped them as far away from where I would be as possible.
Now for my favourite bit. Unpacking.
I had two suitcases. One small, and one large. The small one held jeans, blouses and my wrist knives with toiletries. I assume they have a laundry here. If not, I'll live. I survived the training, right? But the large case was the most necessary. I have gotten as far in my life as to need a gun for comfort constantly.
The things I was looking for was for the large, ridiculous French doors that walked out on to an airy fairy balcony. I wouldn't stand on that for love of money. The only thing holding it together was King Jareth's tenuous hold on his Kingdom.
But for the gaping entrances the patio doors left open I had these nifty defences. Bombs. As soon as someone stepped on them they'd blow up. I'd have to remember to jump through the windows, but no one else would hopefully get in. Unless they could fly, then I placed iron netting across all of the windows. If I hadn't come here I wouldn't get the chance to use mine, Eric's and Damon's Garrison.
As for the door, I put an alarm on that. The kind that did go 'bang', but would only take a hand off. If a fairy opened it they'd be able to regenerate any lost flesh.
And I do know that the more powerful Fae can apparate, I'll just have to rely on my immunity to Mesmur. To aid that along I added some jewellery. Iron necklace with a cross bolt pendant but a snapable chain so I couldn't be strangled. There is a reason why Fae where gloves, they can grab iron. They can't magic the iron, but they can magic the leather. The bastards don't even get a flesh wound if they grab an iron sword. Iron does make them queasy so I forced some earrings into my old pierced ears. These where guns.
Was I sending an aggressive message out? Just to be safe I stashed my gun, the safety firmly on between the headboard and the mattress. Having a gun under the pillow was a bit... well, I'd woken up with gun imprints on my cheek. I couldn't stay still when I slept. Bearing that in mind, I placed a gun at the bottom of the bed. They naturally had iron shot in, after two chambers of lead. Warning shots. If I truly needed those I was dead anyway.
After due consideration I had a sheathed knife tucked in my knickers. Damn uncomfy but it wouldn't walk. With a baggy T-shirt with a vulture hunched over a dead tree saying 'Fuck patience, I'm going to go kill someone' no one would want to pay me a midnight call. Hopefully.
Now I'd just have to rely on my finely tuned instinct to wake up if anyone entered this room without my permission. Nothing like boys wanting to put spiders in your bed to tune in such instinct.
I dropped into the bed and shivered. Obviously the persona that had kept the room warm didn't approve of all the iron. Fuck that. I dragged myself out pulled more clothes on, with my thick bed socks. These socks could do serious damage if I kicked someone, and as it was, my feet would be boiled, but not cold.
And while I was up I could check the bathroom. I hit myself over the head. The bathroom… why didn't I alarm the bathroom? I hastily did so, and started looking for St Johns Wort. To my disgust someone had removed it. That someone really didn't want me to defend myself using natures natural remedies. I'd just have to rely on my gun. Good job I can aim.
Fae can be cruel. Maybe because their parants didn't explain to them that humans and other mortals don't enjoy their fingers being pulled off, or because they can. Either way, I really don't want to be on the receiving end of that cruelty.
*
The moon was odd. There was something wrong with the moon. Lunar alert! It looked like a crystal ball, suspended by the black hands of night to softly glow and sparkle so we could see the outlines of our feet. And where they where disappearing.
I swore and started to struggle. The more I struggled, the more I sunk. The more I tried to stop my self struggling and just stood there, the more I still sank. The ground was just normal, it wasn't even bubbling. Why was I sinking? Male, utterly masculine laughter made me jerk my head up. I narrowed my eyes at the familiar shadow of the monarch. His hair was a golden, silver halo in the bare light. "Having troubles, my trooper?"
Trooper? His trooper? "I was fine until you came along!" I snapped. I was mid thigh, and panic was clawing at my stomach. I wouldn't be able to breathe, my body would force me to suck in lung fulls of earth...
I could feel him smiling. This has to be a dream, it's got to be a dream.
"Are you so sure? My iron carrier." His voice lowered to a low growl.
Was that a hint to get rid of my iron I heard there? Was it? I don't think I heard anything… I yipped, as I dropped to my waist, it closed around, cool and dry and solid. I couldn't move my toes. Was I saying something about cruel Fae before? "What else can it be." Damn, my voice was shaking, just slightly. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat.
"Nothing is what it seems." His voice was a whisper of silk on silk, hidden, unseen.
I gave him my best scathing look under the circumstances. "That was last years puzzle. Try a new one."
He grinnned and I could see the flash of teeth, against the blankness of his heavily blackened face, Jesus Christ on a crutch. He had fangs. "Very well. You are sinking. Do you want… help?"
I spluttered. "You're the one making me sink!"
"The Labyrinth resents all the iron and death you are representing."
Oh shit, cold voice time. "Well what do you expect! I don't even know why I'm here!" Great going girl, just loose your cool in front of the Goblin King. He wouldn't take advantage of it, not he.
"Scared?" taunting, mocking and... Oh yes, the promise of sex. He had to be an Incubious Fae.
"No! I'm not scared to die." Oh great. Should I just stamp 'Kill me here' across my forehead, oh mouth?
He flung his head back and laughed. It was starting on the bottom of my breasts. I'd always thought my breasts where too big. It was uncomfortable doing sports, but helped in push-ups. Maybe here they would help? Maybe the larger my breasts where the more time I'd have above the ground? You know, more volume to suck in?
Hey! I was going Underground!
I have the best sense of humour, especially in these situations. For some reason no one else agrees with me.
His face was just there, in front of mine. I felt my face going blank, like a computer screen with no wallpaper. On this screen I could pull, happy, not interested and coolly amused. Except when I was truly pissed off. Hopefully a mere thing such as 'in-a-few-seconds-to-minutes-I'm-going-to-die' shouldn't change that. I took a big breath and tried to hold the extra space in my up coming coffin. I looked into his eyes that where now orange. An over looked colour was orange, red overpowered it for passion, yellow beat it for happiness. Things that where orange such as clay where termed as 'red'. And there are those fluorescent orange safety clothing's. For being seen.
I looked into his eyes.
Maybe orange has a different role in the Underground.
"You need my help?" I hazarded. I'd never been god at 'I spy'. All I could see now where two angry eyes like a burnt down fire waiting to explode.
He picked me up, just gripping my shoulders painfully and pulling me out. "The Labyrinth does not like Iron."
"Well Iron's in my blood. You can't change that. Why did you 'request' that I came here?"
At 'you can't change that' something passed over his face. I wiggled in his grip as he set my feet on the floor. I wasn't short, five eight maybe, but the Goblin King had at least another foot over me. I took a few steps back so I didn't look like a child, craning my neck just to get a glimpse of him. "Nothing is stable here."
"Can't the Goblin King control it?" What was the point of this? More crypticness? I could never figure out riddles until I knew the answers.
"The Goblin King can, but-" He was putting the voice on, letting me have a glimpse of what was beneath the robe. Lean, pale chest. Co-ee.
"But?"
"Politically I need more."
Politics? Great. Even better than possible assassins. And the bastard still hadn't answered the question. I raised my eyebrows. "You're asking me to help you play politics?"
"No." the voice was back, warm, rich and alive. "I'm going to use you in my game of politics."
*
Okay, was that too waffley? Let me know!
Ashira – thank you! And I'm glad you can over look my errors. *looks at fic again* I seem to have missed the laugh out loud moments though. Ah well.
Airlia de Lioncourt – thank you. :) Here's more!
StarlitAngel64 – thank god Trent can rescue himself huh? He could still be in that cupboard!
Niffers – it's still going. Finally.