Immortal By DarkAngel-Hotaru (A Work in Progress)
"Is it all a dream, like Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, or Dorothy's in The Wizard of Oz? In my own it is. But it's all rather ambiguous-dream or reality? Fantasy or fact? It's whatever you like it to make it. Wherever it takes you to." -----Jim Henson
Chapter Three ________________________________________________
Ashten sat on his throne. His kingdom ran amuck around him, preparing for the arrival of the princess, the one chosen to be his queen. He silently prayed that the chosen Aboveground brat would be beautiful. It would humor his countrymen and rivals of the other realms if the wrench were not. He did not wish to be made a mockery of.
The leader of the Underground tapped his finger against his dark wood of his throne. The softness of the brown animal pelt behind him on the throne's back cushioned him from the roughness of the large chair. Owl's feathers of golden-white, decorated the headpiece connecting to the back of the throne. The brightly colored feathers were spaced out evenly into a sweeping arc. Where the beautiful feathers attached to the next, a shining bloodstone ruby was placed. The throne was very gorgeous. Ashten loved beautiful things, especially those which belonged to him.
He stopped his restless tapping, a glimpsed toward the vacant spot next to him. A throne for his future bride would eventually be placed there. Ashten snorted, discussed at the idea. He did not want the ugly wrench sitting near him. Let the Aboveground whore stand!
His thoughts brought laughter to his somber mood. Ashten chuckled, somewhat humored by the wisecracks about the Aboveground creature. A few of his servants curiously turned away from their work to see what the laughter was about. Finding nothing of interest, they humbly returned back to their tasks. Quickly, his laughter faded, tolerating the openness of his mind wonder into solemn sulking.
The king was a harsh one. He cared for nothing or no one. Ashten was a dark man by nature, an even darker man by sorcery. He had his kingdom by force, not heritage. The king's subjects feared him, obeyed him and even worshiped him. If they did not, then their death would soon follow. Ashten hated weakness. He prided himself on being strong and quick-witted. He ruled his kingdom with an ironclad fist and showed no mercy for weakness, treachery and ugliness. He sought perfection to its finest form and would do anything to achieve his dark goal.
So how does a man like Ashten find himself within the mess of marring to an Aboveground girl? Simple. Ashten seeks the perfect kingdom, in order to achieve his goals; Ashten must comply with the set rules of his people. When Ashten forced his rule upon the people, a bloody war broke out between the two cultures of difference. The warfare ended with the death of the opposing party's royal family. A treaty of peace was sighed between Ashten's forces and the surrendered. The treaty stated that the new king should marry a maiden of the fallen people's choosing. The high mage chose the child, whisked the mother away to the Aboveground, for safekeeping. Near to her eighteenth year of life, the chosen is to return to her homeland, in order to secure that all of the terms of the treaty will be fulfilled.
A dark fate? Ashten obscurely chuckled. A very dim lit fate indeed.
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The trio arrived at the castle with remarkable timing. The journey that would have normally taken two to three days to complete, only took them one day. Much to Sara's relief, they did not travel to the castle that lay beyond the Goblin City. She had questioned her mother why, the older woman simply answered that nothing of any importance was there. Then she told Sara not to ask any more questions on the subject. Sara was stunned. She knew that there had to be some significance concerning the Labyrinth. Why else would she be having her nightmares about the place? Sara tried not to think of that dreadful place. She had much bigger things to ponder about, like her sudden marriage to a person she knew knowing about.
When they entered the castle, the group stumbled upon the gate guardian. The leader of their group, the elderly man, whom Sara began to knowledge as Zyper, talked quietly to the guard about clearance into the castle. The guard simply shook his helmeted head and stubbornly stabbed his spear's pointed end onto the cobbled path. Dismayed at the guardian's actions, Zyper fidgeted and gloomily returned back to the awaiting group, shaking his wrinkled head.
"He refuses to allow us to pass," Zyper bitterly remarked. Stunned, Lydia and Sara glanced at each other with disbelief. Lydia takes a step toward Zyper while placing a single hand onto the nearest of Sara's crossed arms.
"What do you mean?" Disbelief cracks her voice as Lydia stared past the old man in order to evilly glare at the heavily armored guard. Sara repulsed by her mother's touch and shakes the unwelcome hand off. Lydia momentary glares in Sara's direction and swiftly continues on with Zyper, who quietly snickers at the actions between mother and daughter. Under hostile conditions, Lydia gritted her teeth together and wearily huffs. Being extremely annoyed, she spoke to Zyper. "What are his reasons?"
Zyper glanced at Sara and uncertainly shook his head. "He doesn't believe that our Sara is who we claim her to be." It was Sara's turn to be confused.
"Why?" Sara asked raising an eyebrow. Zyper did not answer her question.
"The guard wishes to speak to you, Sara." The elder gestured toward the guard with a sweeping motion of his gnarled hand. Sara felt confused. She did not ask another question, even thought she wished too. Her eyes darted away from her companions, Sara uncertain of the guard's motives, took a step toward him. The guard jabbed his wooden spear into the ground again, making Sara jump.
Calm down Sara, she shakily told herself. You have nothing to be nervous about. Everything is fine. Sara wanted to laugh. She was not fine. She was plucked away from her home and brought to some place from her dreams as a bridal sacrifice to some king. Everything is just hunky dory. Sara tried to ease the horrid worry that was rushing through her mind by introducing a false smile onto her face. It did not work, but at least she looked calm.
Sara raised her eyebrows with surprise; he did not look that tough. He was tall, Sara noticed, but scrawny. His shiny, silver armor made up most of the guard's body mass. A sash of red embroidered with gold, was tied over his right shoulder and hung down to the left of his waist over his breastplate. A design of a furious lion killing a weakened dragon was sewn onto the sash. Obviously the kingdom's symbol Sara mused. He wore tight fabric of red; the same hue of the sash, on his arms and legs. Silver metal protected his knees, identical to the metal that fashioned his curved toed shoes.
The guard watched, as she approached him. A pretty, little thing, no doubt, he contemplated chuckling to himself. His white mustache twitched with his laughter. The guard snorted. His graying hair had tickled his nose. He straightened his posture and knocked the end of his silver-tipped spear onto the ground, for the third time since the party's encounter with him.
The king's gate guardian raised a bushy eyebrow of white-gray as the princess in questioning stopped before him. He cleared his throat, mustache twitching.
"I have reason to believe that thee is a false princess and a spy." The guard coughed. Sara glanced at him as if he were crazy. She felt like laughing at the deranged person. Sara could feel her sanity was about to break. This had not been her day. Sara took a deep breath.
"My name is Sara and I am not a spy." Sara told the guard sharply.
"Yes, you are!" The stick thudded onto the ground once more. Sara felt like rubbing her aching temples. A headache was beginning to pour into the numbed depths of Sara's brain. This ridiculous guard actually thought she was a spy! She wanted to knock some sense into the scrawny man. Sara thought she surely would if he continued on with his redundant bumping of that stick onto the ground!
Sara tried to control her raging anger. She smiled sweetly, battering her eyelashes at the guard. Sara had an idea. "OK. If I am spy, then who I am spying for?"
The guard was troubled. He scratched under the edge of his silver trimmed helmet. Confusion developed over his features. His largely tanned nose jerked as he intensely thought about Sara's question. The thin line of hair under his nostrils twitched also. He stopped scratching and removed his hand. The guard's shaggy white hair fell limply into his blue eyes. The guard had been out foxed by Sara's quick reasoning.
Puzzled, he quietly admitted to Sara, "I don't know, fair maiden." Sara happily smiled, her light green eyes flashing with sudden joy.
"Then we can pass then?"
The guard looked even more perplexed than he had before. He wiggled his nose, snapping himself out of his puzzled state. Shaking his head rapidly up and down. "Why... of course!" The guard exclaimed. He fumbled with the brass circle-shaped door handle of the gate's sky-towering oak door. The guard smiled sheepishly at Sara once he had full control over the door latch. He pulled the door open with one hand, revealing the castle to Sara and her party. The guard bowed before Sara, his armor clanking loudly together. "My Lady."
Sara and friends rushed through the large oak doors. Sara was spellbound with awe. The sight before her was amazing. A structure of stone and wood loomed before her. Windows were cut into the massive walls of stone, allowing the warm sunlight to stream in. The towers leered into the pale blue sky, touching the puffy white clouds that aimlessly rolled by.
It was an amazing sight for Sara, who had never seen a real castle up close before. She could not believe her luck. She was going to live here! Giddy excitement ran throughout Sara. A large grin broke over her face as she stared at the towers of wood and stone. Deep green moss enwrapped their roots into the cracks in the stone, allowing them to grow up the tower's dizzying incline.
"Wow." Sara breathed. Maybe this won't be so terrible after all, she thought entering the castle's large oak doors. Relief surpassed her worries for the first time that day.
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Upon entering the grand castle, Sara was hurried away from her mother and Zyper by the castle's maids. They rushed her through the lavishly decorated halls. Sara wished to stop and gaze upon the beauty of the silk tapestries enlaced with silver and golden threads hanging about the walls of stone, but the maids would not allow it. Sara noticed that the floors were made out of polished marble swirled with white and creamy rose-red. Candlelit lanterns of tall brass structured poles with animal feet outlined the wide-spaced hall, for there was not a single window among the polished stonewalls. The air around Sara was lightly scented with the burning of wood and of the sweet smell of lavender flowers. This made Sara feel lighthearted and carefree.
The maids ushered Sara into a room. Steam quickly overcame Sara, causing her to forcefully gasp and cough. One of the three stayed behind as the other maids rushed out. The girl who stayed was a fragile creature with thin lips and pretty eyes of amber gold. The handmaiden smiled sweetly at Sara's growing curiosity.
"I am Elena, but you may call me Elf," she told Sara gently, pointing to herself. The softness of the Elf's voice soothed the remaining fears that still lurked within Sara. The girl's happy smile broadened. "Sorry for my sisters and my sudden rudeness, but the king wished for you to be prepared to meet him as soon as you arrived."
Elf glanced quickly down and up Sara's red-dirt clad attire. "It looks like you could use a bath, my lady." Elf swiftly explained to Sara all the features of the bathhouse, and then quickly demanded that Sara should strip before her and allow Elf to bathe her. Sara was shocked and astounded at the young girl's startling commands. Elf giggled at Sara's Aboveground innocents. Removing her tiny hands from her lips, Elf quickly interpreted to Sara the castle's custom of bathing one of her 'stature.'
Elf placed a hand on her flat chest, her eyes twinkling. "It is custom that one of high rank is bathed by her or his servants. I am told that is my duty to bathe you, by the king I might add." Elf told Sara harshly waving a finger before her paled face. Elf shrugged her shoulders and deeply exhaled. "Sorry, my lady."
Seeing no way out her situation, Sara was reluctantly escorted to the bathing tub. Sara shockingly amazed to find the conditions of the bathhouse much different from that of her bathroom at home.
This was nowhere close to a bathroom!
An ovular pool stood before Sara. Lit candles surrounded the pool. Their wax trickling downward their long shapes, melting onto cold stone. The bathing pool's water was crystal clear. Delicate vapors of fog lifted from the surface of the water. Deep red petals drifted upon the water's gentle flowing surface. The heavy and sweet smell of roses filled Sara's senses. The water was scented with the fragrance. The shallow pool was outlined with dark gray bricks that slowly curved upward in the back of the pool behind a fairy statue.
The statue was really a fountain fashioned out of hard gray stone. The fairy's wings resembled more of the pattern of butterfly's wings. The stone wings were embedded with glittering jewels and gemstones of every color. The fairy held a rose glazed pot on her shoulders. Crystal water poured from the pot's opening into the bathing pool. Tiny bell-shaped flowers dangled on the wall behind the fairy fountain. Their fragrances mixed with the scented from the perfumed water, claiming and relaxing Sara more than what she had been before.
Sara was swiftly stripped of all her clothing and was escorted into the pool. The water felt hot against Sara's fair skin. She flinched, gritting her teeth. The hotness soon eased into warmness, causing Sara's quick nerves to unravel. The oddness of being bathed pricked at Sara with unease. Sara watched from the scent pool, the rose petals tickling at her naked flesh, as Elf reached toward a shelf lined with alabaster jars. She undid the golden cap of a jar and dipped her fingers into the jar. A pink colored paste appeared on Elf's lengthy fingers. She then wiped the paste onto a dampened cloth, lathering the rag. Elf turned to Sara with a skittish smile.
"Please make this simple," Elf humbly begged to Sara as she neared closer to her with the soaped rag. The soap was scented with rose. This did not surprise Sara, she had already guessed about the bath's leading theme of scented rose. Elf began to rub the damp cloth onto Sara's flesh. Sara gritted her teeth, trying to control herself from fighting against Elf's gentle stokes. Soon Sara was soaped from head to toe. Elf placed the rag near to the tiny shelf of wood and selected a basin with warm water from the fountain. She poured the basin over Sara until she was free of the scented soap residue. Elf grabbed another jar and applied its contents to Sara's damp hair. She rubbed the lather deep into the roots of Sara's thick hair, removing the dirt and grit. She then reached for another small basin and dumped its contents onto Sara, rinsing her dark tresses free of the soapy foam.
After about forty minutes of soaping and rinsing, Elf wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Smiling happily, she clapped her hands together. "All done."
Sara glared evilly from behind her soaked tresses of dark hair. She mischievously smiled at the girl, whom sat on the side of the bath. A warm jet of water sprayed from Sara's mouth soaking Elf, sending them both into nervous fits of laughter.
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Sara was dried off and then directed to the next room. Sara and Elf said their good-byes and the handmaid swiftly departed. Sara was alone. The room was beautiful and dreadfully glamorous. Sara was surprised. She had expected a tall and dark tower, locked away from the rest of the world.
The room was rather large. The walls were made of the same polished stone as the rest of the castle's walls. Two silk tapestries hung from them. There were no windows lighting the broad space, only two large candles that sat upon tall golden poles. A fireplace was located between them, fire burning, releasing a light pine scent into the air. The floor was of polished darkened wood. A bed that could fit roughly three full-grown men was placed in the center. Four posts of darkly stained cherry wood stretched out from the bed's four corners. Rose vines were curved on the wood's tough surface. Other furniture included a dresser with an almost full-sized mirror, dark leather chair and wardrobe. All of the wood pieces were darkly stained to match the color of the bed.
Sara took a couple of steps toward the bed. Placing her hand on the pole, Sara glanced quickly around the room again. She could not believe what she was seeing. Her heart was beating a million times over from excitement. She felt like a princess within an enchanted fairy tale. Sara mindlessly ran her fingers down the smooth texture of the red stain bedcover. She stopped when her fingers came to an unfamiliar fabric texture amongst the bedcover. Glancing to the bed, Sara noticed her fingers touching the silk fabric of a beautifully made gown. Sara giggled, realizing the she was still wearing the velvet robe that Elf had given her. Sara quickly tried to dress herself, struggling with the folds of the gown. Laughter echoed from the doorway, startling Sara onto a heap on the bed. It was her mother.
Lydia shut the door behind her and rushed to her daughter's aid. Gently lifting Sara from the bed, she straightened the silk of Sara's gown. Lydia skillfully laced the back and then lead Sara to the chair, which was near to the dresser. Opening one of the dresser drawers, Sara's mother removed several accessories and began to execute Sara's quick drying hair into an elegant hairstyle. Lydia's fingers gently touching Sara's scalp, relaxing her, but Sara could feel her unanswered question churning at the back of her brain. Her mind would not leave at her at peace until her nagging questions were answered.
"Mother," Sara said softy. Lydia stopped parting and gently brushing the dark strands of Sara's hair.
"Yes honey."
"Why I am here?" Lydia tightly closed her eyes and searched her mind for an answer.
When she did not answer, Sara pleaded again. "Mom?" Lydia's dark eyes flashed open at the sound of her daughter's voice. Snapping her away from her deep thoughts, Lydia picked back up her daughter's hair and continued styling.
"Along time ago, this kingdom was at war. When the fighting stopped a treaty of peace was signed by the leaders of the feuding sides," Lydia began. "The treaty allowed the defeated to chose the bride of the new king as an offering of surrender and peace."
Sara was confused. "What does any of that have to do with me?" Lydia chucked. "Does dad know about any of this?"
"No. He doesn't, sweetie," she remarked to her startled daughter. "He doesn't even know that you're never going to return to him." Lydia dropped a finished strand of hair and picked a new, untamed one. "Sara, he isn't even your biological father. Your real father was killed in the final battle between kingdoms. Once I knew of your future, I ran away, in order to make sure that you would be safe. Your father is a good man and a wonderful dad, but only a replacement."
Lydia paused, thinking. Sorrow brewed within Sara. Tears began to prick at her eyes. "Why couldn't you tell me the truth?" Sara choked. She furiously blinked her eyes, trying to hold back her painful tears. Lydia deeply sighed, gently touching the curled ends of Sara's brown-ebony hair.
"I thought about it a million-and-one times, Sara. Believe me, honey, I wanted too, but would you have believed me?" Lydia shook her head as the pains of the truth wrenched about in her gut. It saddened her to know that she had lied to Sara all these years. "I mean-- you destined to be marrying a king from a parallel world. It is an impossible truth for anyone to believe, even you Sara. That's why I haven't told you until now. I am so sorry."
Anger replaced her sorrow for her lost father. "You could have tried!" Sara snapped angrily at her mother, but her sudden blood-raging anger vanished once she saw her mother's point. "I am sorry. I wouldn't have believed you. I just want to go home."
Lydia sighed again. She could feel her daughter's pain and loneliness. She understood more than Sara would ever know. Desperate to ease Sara's suffering, Lydia squeezed her daughter's shoulder. "I know, love, but this is your home. It always has been. Now it is time for you to acknowledge that and take your place. Fate is a twisting path of loneliness and heartache, but it is also full of new experiences and hope. I know it appears to you, that your path has taken a turn for the worse, but things will get better. My advice to you is to forget the person you were and try to become the person you are."
Patting her daughter's shoulder, Lydia removed herself away from Sara. She walked to the door, opened it and disappeared into the hall, shutting the door behind her. She felt ashamed and heartbroken. Lydia blamed herself from the source of Sara's unhappiness. She was a failure as a mother and protector to her only child. Sighing, Lydia walked down the hall, praying that her daughter could forget her pitiful soul.
Sara was alone, completely. Her mother was a stranger and the only person who knew her, was far away from her. Sara felt helpless and bitter. Rejection to what she was and who she was about to become, coiled deep from within her. She wanted nothing to do with any treaty or kingdom. Sara wanted her father and the places she had know her whole life. She wished that her mother had never came for her. Damn everything.
Heatedly pushing upwards with her arms, Sara removed herself from the leather bound chair. She mindlessly walked over to the dresser. Placing her hands firmly at her sides, Sara gazed into the hazed depths of the glassed mirror.
A girl with eyes the color of waning jade stared back at her. Sara's full lips parted, showing half of her front teeth. She quickly closed her mouth, permitting the exquisite line of her high cheekbones to appear. Sara's brown-black hair was twisted into medium sized curls and following in gentle waves over the smooth, rose-scented skin of her shoulders. Shiny stones of frosted white glittered against the darkness of her hair.
Her dress was made of fair silk. It bared her slender shoulders and tightly hugged the young curves of her chest and waist. The skirt flared out from the tight waist in a bell-like form. Sheer golden wildflowers were embroidered into the fine silkily fabric. The hem of the shirt was embroidered with shiny golden threads. There were no selves on Sara's gown, but she wore high, fingerless gloves of plain ivory fabric. The gloves were tipped into a V and looped around Sara's middle finger with a braided piece of gold thread. A small white crystal accented the V tip.
Become the person you are...
Sara hopelessly exhaled; allowing her growing sorrow escape over paled her face. A tear laced with pity, ran down her cheek. Did she have a choice?
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Disclaimer: I do not claim to own the Labyrinth nor do I claim to own any of its characters. All characters and original plot ideas belong to the Jim Henson Company and LucasFilm LTD. However, I do own the ideas and characters not expressed in the film. Please do not take them.