Chapter Three: Chess and a Promise

I stare at the chessboard, quietly plotting the death of my opponent. He is going to beat me. 'Damn! It isn't fair, I'm supposed to win, because I'm the best.' I growl softly, and my expression softens at Jareth's sweet, kind laughter.

"Poor Ravyn, you are frustrated." He pushes back a stray lock of platinum hair, and smiles at me. I lower my head to gaze back at the intense chessboard, hoping to find a loophole. Then, I see it. The idiot left me an opening! I smile, and look up. When I arch my eyebrow, he copies. "Care to share, cherie?"

"Check mate, you hypothetical slime ball." Moving my queen, I put his king in a bad spot, winning the third game of the night. Glee wells up in my heart from the incredulous fury he is feeling. His normally pale skin goes to a tan color, the blood rushing to his face. Then, it hits me: he isn't furious, he's trying to suppress some kind of pain. It's obvious, for his eyes are swimming with unshed tears. I am surprised at this new development, and also sad that I'd done something to hurt him. But, try as I may, I could think of what.

"Jareth? What's the matter?" I wait a few minutes, to see if he will answer. He abruptly stands and stalks toward the door. I rush after him. "Jareth, I'm sorry. Whatever I've done, I'm sorry for it!" He stops walking, spins around, and grabs me by the shoulders.

"Are you? How do you know you've done anything?" Somehow, his eyes took on a glitter of malice. He is expecting something, but I am unsure as to what it could be.

"I'm not. If I did, I am sorry. If I did not, then let me comfort you if it will help you." I stare into his eyes, forest green staring into cobalt blue. He knows I speak the truth, he must know. Gods above, can't he see it?

"You. have done nothing. Simply, I know this cannot last, and I love this way of life so. You will leave when you figure out a way, I know you will." At this, I step back, pushing him a step back. His answer is far to presumptuous, in my opinion. I have been in the Underground three months and a week. And yet he claims to know me. 'But, he may not be able to see the change in my heart. And, he knows if I don't love him, I would leave as soon as I was able.'

"Jareth, no. no. I wouldn't. Maybe before, but not now. Everything's changed. I promise, I won't leave. I would never. Look into my heart, my mind. You know I wouldn't do such a thing. You being Fae is of no consequence to me. Neither is you being Lord of the Underground, ruler of the Labyrinth, or the Goblin King. You are who you are through no fault of your own. I cannot not. care for you, simply because of who you were meant to be. It was a choice made by Fate, not by you. It isn't your fault that you are who you are."

"I am who I choose to be, my dark angel." Jareth clasps my hands in his, drawing me forward. His eyes draw me in, his blue-black eyes like the vast abyss of space.

"Yes, in a way. You chose to be the Goblin King, prince of the Fae. You chose to be my Dark Angel. my-"

"Your vampire, my angel. Your evil, twisted, sadistic, damned, ever- loving vampire. Is this what you think you care for?" And there he is, revealed to me in his full, dark, erotic glory. Such a being as he was never seen in the mortal world.

His full mane of silver, white, and golden locks was thicker and fuller than ever. His skin was so pale, I believe if he were to close his eyes and hold his breath, he would appear dead. He was a statue carved of milk-white marble, perfect as an angel. His eyes were bluer than ever, his lips pale along with his flesh. His well-muscled chest was like a stone wall, immovable. His arms were like the thickest of iron bands, strong enough to lift the Heavens onto his broad shoulders like the giant Atlas. But, what he wanted me to see were his immaculate, blood-red talons at the tips of his long, elegant fingers, the ebony wings at his back, and the long, needle like fangs pressed against his chin. He thought himself monstrous. I thought him a redeemed angel. I wanted him.

"Well, Ravyn? Is this what you expected your soul mate to be, a living corpse?!" He glared, daring me to contradict him. I never could pass up a dare.

"A living angel, my dearest Jareth. That is what you are, redeemed by compassion and love." I am not surprised by his hopeful, astonished expression. I love it, in fact. It makes me want to kiss him. Which, of course, I must do.

His lips slide away from mine, sliding over my jaw and down my neck to the base of my throat. A pinch of white-hot pain is felt as he pierces my skin with his teethe. He pulls me to him, holding me close to his chest as he introduces intense pleasure to my soul. He whispers against my throat, "May I continue?" It is a test, perhaps. But, even if it isn't, I would not give this intimate union up for all the tea in china.

His fangs slide from my flesh and move lower. His teeth scrape over the swell of one breast, and suddenly he sinks his fangs into my skin once more, greedily feasting on what we both agree is his. Gasping now, I cradle his head to me, allowing his wondrous gluttony to continue. Moaning, tired, wishing for sleep, I almost collapse. He catches me, swearing, shaking, furious with himself, but why I cannot fathom.

Hoisting me into his arms, he transports me to my room, with its large four- poster. Laying me down upon it, the vampire love-bites miraculously vanished, he lies beside me. I rest my head on his chest, tired but somehow happy.

"You trust me too much, Ravyn my dark angel. I could have very well killed you. Never again, I swear it." I smile, snuggling closer.

"You wouldn't have. I trust you, Jareth. I meant what I said. I won't leave you, ever."

"Good night, my dark angel." He wonders what name I am giving him, and he silently hopes for vampire prince.

'Very well, I do not mind.'

"Good night, my vampire prince."