Wishes.
Chapter 5. Monologues. A Ghostly Encounter.
By mikim.
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Standard Disclaimers Apply.
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Sariel sipped slowly on his second whiskey on ice, staring outside. It was pitch black already and still no news from Jareth since he left to take Sarah home, 4 hours earlier. Sariel wasn't worried, Jareth was a big boy who could fend for himself. No, he was concerned for the other one, for Sarah.
Sariel took another sip of his drink, letting the bitter liquid run like fire on his tongue before swallowing it slowly. He hadn't eaten a thing since the little time he had spent in the kitchen together with Iome, Charlie and Steward. Nothing would pass, nor did he have the envy to eat anything. Hell, he didn't even have the envy to drink that blasted whiskey but he had to do something. Leaning forward, Sariel touched the cool glass with his forehead, his right hand holding his glass, the ice clinking softly against the panel.
Iome…
She had broken her promise. She had talked to strangers about Millibel.
Sariel closed his eyes and let her name invade his mind, stir his heart and roll like velvet on his skin. How he had loved her. How blessed he had been to see his love shared. Sariel's brow wrinkled under the familiar pain that clutched his heart suddenly. He should be grateful even for the short time the had been together. He told himself, some don't have even that. Those precious memories of her laughter, of the feel of her skin and the touch of her lips, those murmured promises in the deep of the night, the feverish moans at his ears and sweet caresses to his face.
But, her eyes, her eyes had always, always been plagued by the bittersweet knowledge of her incoming death. She had known when they confessed their love to each other that she would succumb to her illness, as he had known. They had started, knowing how the story would end. Yet, they had chosen to ignore it, yet he had chosen to give in her wish. Millibel had destroyed him, by leaving him, just as she had given him life by loving him back.
Assaulted by the souvenirs, Sariel collapsed against the glass, murmuring. "So, why does it still hurt so much?"
Sariel whispered her name a last time in the night, wishing he could be a wolf howling his pain to the moon.
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Sarah was floating. Content, warm and safe, she snuggled deeper in whatever she was wrapped in. It felt like nothing could touch her, less harm her, leaving her completely safe and sound. Smiling, she went deeper in the warm feeling.
The stranger tilted her head on the side, judging the situation. Founding nothing to say against, she nodded to herself and slipped in after Sarah and reached for her hand.
Sarah felt something tug on her left hand, and curious she turned around, in slow motion. Everything was going in slow motion, she wasn't hot, but she wasn't cold either, she felt relaxed but her senses seemed enhance by wherever she was in. A woman greeted her sight. A woman with long, fair hair and the bluest ice blue Sarah had ever seen. The woman's gaze was so clear that it looked unreal. The stranger was as tall as she was, her long hair flirting with the waistband of her white, long-sleeved dress. Her face was like a porcelain doll's face: her rosy lips and the perfect shape of her chin, the long eyelashes and the high brow. Her skin seemed so smooth, like a baby's.
Oddly, Sarah wasn't feeling scared at all. This woman radiated with kindness and tenderness, with an edge of sadness, but in all, she felt harmless to Sarah.
"Hello, Sarah," the woman said with her melodic voice, a smile on her thin lips, "my name's Millibel Grace, nice to meet you. I'm Jareth's older sister."
Like the thunder without sound, dread and hurt slipped inside Sarah's conscious and it was all resumed in a word, in a name. His name. Sarah bent over and crouched down, moaning in pain, resting her forehead on her draws knees, her arms against her chest, protectively draped over her heart. She didn't know why, but she knew how, but his name brought pain to her heart. A pain too intense to be real, tears picked her eyes. And something rebuffed. Something deep inside her, like a wild horse roared and kicked, anger loose on her mind swept forward and burned her hands, resting on her pounding heart.
His name rode wild on the angry wave sweeping inside her. His name was associated with betrayal and hurt, pain and tears, but also with a cruel sweetness, a stolen bittersweet kiss, a harsh caress and feverish hands. The anger died down, leaving only regrets behind.
Exhausted, Sarah fell down, on her side, drained. Blinking, she raised her eyes to the unmoving stranger above her. Millibel Grace gathered her long white skirt in her hands and sat down next to Sarah's head. Both women stared silently at each other for a few seconds, before Millibel Grace's right hand reached out to smooth Sarah's hair tenderly.
"The fool." She whispered gently, a sad smile lingering on her features. "Too quick at anger, too slow to make amends. Harsh when he should be tender, blind when he should see. I told him several times his temper and quick decisions would get him into troubles. The good spirits are blessed they made him clever and strong enough to be arrogant and able to resist the blows."
Sarah could only stare mutely at this woman so tenderly caressing her hair. To Sarah, her touch felt like a mother's one, tender and radiating with love and calm.
"Why does his name bring you harm, child?" The woman whispered again.
Sarah didn't know how to speak, the words were frozen inside her throat, the language forgotten, her emotions raw. That was all she knew, emotions, feelings, being able to express her sentiments.
A twinkle lit up in the woman's gaze. "He has never been able to come here. Do you know why?" Without waiting for an answer, the woman kept on. "Because he has never been able to let go. He has never been shown love and if it has happened, he had cast it away, labelling it 'duty' or 'hypocrisy'. He has never loved another being outside his family and admitted it." The woman's eyes hardened a little, a silent scowl and her back stiffened lightly but her hands never left, nor offered less comfort and warmth. "However, he has come close to it. Only to see the object of his affections rejecting his offer."
Of course, Sarah knew whom she was talking about. About her and her last denial of Jareth's love. But she had been too young. It had actually taken her years to understand, years of gentle probing of her feelings from Hoggle, rather Sariel, Sarah wryly corrected herself in the silent of her mind. Without mentioning, of course, Toby and that blasted peach.
"Ah, Toby, your little brother." Millibel Grace smiled and her eyes softened as she followed Sarah's movements when the latter sat up, her knees drawn behind her, leaning forward on her hands. "He's a big boy now, I believe. He must be around 14, 15 years old." Her eyes turned distant and her perfect features stilled. Then, as if waking up, she shook her white-blond mane and smiled again at Sarah. "Stirring the past isn't why I came here. No, I rather came here for the future, for your future and mostly his future."
Sarah blinked, she didn't understand.
Millibel Grace's laugh resonated like chimes of dozen little bells. "Of course, you don't understand, dear, you deserve each other, after all and it wouldn't be fair if you were ahead of him. The riddle I offer you both has to be resolved together."
Sarah frowned, wondering what kind of riddle his sister could bring her.
"Not only you." Millibel quickly corrected. "Both of you are in this."
Sarah rolled her eyes. He wouldn't even see her. A pang of pain touched her heart, like a gong far away in the night, heard but ignored.
"Stubborn till the end. Well I think this is what is going to save you both. And, don't worry, he will be back. He can't stand the way you crawl under his skin. Several times, I've heard him curse you to no end, other times, no less often, I've heard him wish you were his. Even if he doesn't remember the latter as he was almost always drunk when he made such wishes. Or it happened during his illness."
Sarah's back stiffened and her shoulders tensed. Her eyes went wide and her fingers twitched. She had never heard of an illness.
Millibel Grace put her finger on her lips. "This is a secret between you and me." She whispered. "Don't tell him I told you. After you left, he was mad, mad with grief and pain. He refused to eat, he punched in walls tills his hands were broken, his roars made shivers run up my spine and my nights cold and frightening. Several times, I awoke at the sound of one of his cries, making me jerk out of my bed, cold sweat drenching my blouse."
Sarah's heart pounded. That would mean, that would actually mean that Hoggle, well Sariel, had been right all along. That he actually had something for her, that he had feelings…
"Well, of course, we all knew that, dear." Millibel Grace shook her head once more and sighed. "The problem is he won't admit it to himself, he'd rather fight it with all he has than giving in." At Sarah's confused gaze, Millibel Grace sighed again. "Let me start this over, like I should have, let me start where it all started. Would you allow me, Sarah. Would like to know more about him?"
Sarah didn't hesitate, she was spellbound but all she could do was nod.
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Millibel Grace fell silent, her gaze lost, as she gathered her thoughts. Her voice started slowly and soft, her gaze lost in the veils of the past. "The Underground is ruled by a council, called the council of Rulers. This council is made of all the lords governing the hundreds of lands, under the imperial throne and above this council is the Emperor. Backing the Emperor's power is the caste of the Seers, a neutral group that belongs to no lands and to whom the Emperor swears an oath of protection, while the Seers make an oath of devotion. Anyway, it all really started with my Grand-father." Her lips curled in a soft smile, souvenirs flooding her mind. Millibel Grace remembered her Grandfather, his antics and playful tricks.
"He was a powerful Emperor, but from the Imperial bed only came one child, my mother. My Grandfather was a skirt chaser. He was notorious for it, but he held the Council of Rulers in an iron glove, therefore the Empire blossomed under his care and everybody overlooked his frequent infidelities and their results. I don't think he even knew how many bastards sons he fathered, or how many children, boys and girls he had in the end. Everybody didn't pay attention at first, except one. My Grandfather. He was no fool, he knew he was creating future troubles, he had realized that later his sons would either want the throne for themselves, either a group of Lords would place one of his bastards on the throne to command it like a puppet." Millibel Grace frowned a little. How foolish her grandfather had been. If only he had stayed in his own bed, but then she and Jareth would have never been born.
"My Grand-father couldn't allow that, therefore he looked for an heir, a powerful heir, to whom he could give the crown. And who better than an heir forged by his own hands to be up to his expectations. This is how he started to shape his only child from the imperial bed into a future ruler, my mother. From the day she turned 8 to the day of the designation of the heir, my Grand-father taught her how to pull strings to choke the council, how to manipulate people into giving her what she wanted, how to talk and on and on. My mother was to be an Empress."
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"A female sovereign. It had already happened before, so my Grandfather wasn't really worrying about it. The Underground did know an Empress, but only when the Emperor died did his wife mount the throne and only because her son was too young to hold the reins of power. My Grandfather overlooked this, thinking that the Seers would back him up, as they always did. Time passed and the day of the designation of a heir was coming closer. My mother was preparing herself, my Grand-father was rubbing his hands in anticipation." Millibel Grace sighed and casually threw a lock of hair over her shoulder.
"Meanwhile, a young Lord took his father's place in the Council of Rulers, my father. He was young and power hungry and clever and ruthless. The other Lords had nicknamed him the Wolf Lord. As the time of designation was coming closer and that the Emperor hadn't shown any signs of a favourite, some of his bastard sons stirred a riot. My father saw troubles coming as his chance."
In her mind eye, Millibel could see her father. She and Jareth looked more like their mother than their father. He was as tall as Jareth but his hair was as black as the night and so were his eyes. His skin wasn't fair but he always had had a light tan, from his years of going, fighting, playing outside. Her father was broad-shoulder and his sinew body radiating with repressed power and a magic aura. Her father she loved. Jareth was almost the same physically, just that he had fair hair and skin like their mother, otherwise he was just like their father. Her brother she loved.
"In the Underground, there is a common fear that if you kill someone of your family, your bloodline will be cursed and Grand-father was aware of this fear and the impact it could have on the people if he raised his army against his sons. He had to trick some Lords into fighting the rebellion for him but none answered to his call, none but my father and not for free. He made a deal with my Grandfather: he would choke the rebellion and marry my mother to become Emperor. Father, at that time, was the only to realize who the heir was. My Grandfather laughed at this and sent my father on his way. Father had expected such answer and so he turned to the only wall my Grand-father hadn't expected to fail him: the Seers."
Sarah wouldn't know how much the Seers were feared among the people of the Underground, themselves, with magic. The Seers were a caste, a group of mysterious men and women, living together in the Imperial Palace, but only twelve of them were allowed to be seen by others and then they each wore a mask over their features, swords at their hips and long white cloaks covering whatever they could hide on their bodies.
When the Twelve, as they were called, walked inside a room, it was always together, at the same pace, their chief, recognizable at his more elaborate mask in the centre. The twelve would always walk up to the throne, then the group would split up in two halves, so that their chief was in the middle. Then the head would bow when the others would kneel in front of her father, on his throne. Millibel Grace had never heard any but the chief of the Twelve talk.
"The Seers came to him and told my Grand-father they wouldn't back my mother up if my Grand-father was to place her on the throne. My Grandfather was trapped and in fury, he turned to my father, who had been the one to tell the Seers who the next heir would be. And so the deal was struck. My mother and the throne against the Seers and the death of the rebellion. My father kept his promise and the rebellion was repressed. In blood."
Millibel repressed a chill. "None of my mother's half-brothers ever raised his head afterwards, too afraid of my father. And so my parents were married, without love, out of duty and opportunity." Millibel Grace paused in her story while Sarah grew weary. She knew there had to be more, more hurt in Millibel Grace's parents lives, which in return have hurt deeply Millibel Grace and her brother.
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"My mother who had thought almost all her life she would be an Empress hated my father with passion. Besides, his reputation of being quite of a womaniser himself didn't help him getting into her good graces. The first two years of their marriage were quite agitated but they ruled together over the Council of Rulers as one, which can be perceived quite ironically, since they didn't agree on anything privately till the colours of the walls to whom to employ but as the Imperial Couple, they were one."
A secret smile crept on Millibel Grace's lips. "Mother has never been a woman who kept her mouth shut and Father has a quick temper. I don't know exactly how or why, but finally love and care finally blossomed between them and I was born. It went on for some times, they were happy together, they had a baby, everything was fine, the people was happy and my Grandfather was finally proud of his son-in-law as Emperor. Until she came."
"Her name is Pasha and she was one of my father's mistress before he got wed. Something to his account, after the wedding he never cheated on my mother, even when they were at odds. But Lady Pasha. Mother was still feeling uncertain about her body as she had just given me birth and so when Lady Pasha and her slender body and devious beauty came, Mother felt threatened, knowing my Father and Lady Pasha's history. She grew agitated and frequently would either make impossible demands from Father or plainly accused him of cheating on her with Lady Pasha. Finally Father, fed up, said something too much and war broke loose. Mother and him wouldn't speak to each other for days."
"Finally Mother made amends and recognized how foolish she had been and so she and Father went back to their happy state together. Mother was extremely close to my Grandfather and when he died, she fell into depression. Father was overloaded with work as our neighbour, the Kingdom of Rasmale, was in a civil war. All this made that Father paid little attention at Mother but they still had their tradition: a walk every Sunday, just the three of us and slowly Mother crawled out of her depression."
"Too coincidently to be true, a young man, Lord Ruben, whom bore a passionate love for my mother came back and started to court her again. Mother never gave in his advances, but Father saw it from another eye. During this period, Mother found out she was pregnant again. There was a wild rumour saying the child actually was Lord Ruben's and not my father's. Father doubted and Mother was deeply hurt by his doubts and, of course, they fought again. I've always thought that such rumour could only been born between Lady Pasha's sheets. I don't know for sure, but I've always thought she was an evil woman." Millibel Grace's voice hardened and Sarah had no doubt Millibel Grace had tried her best to confound this woman as responsible of her family's rifts.
"To arrange nothing, when Mother's body started to change to accommodate their new child, Lady Pasha paraded in all her glory at every imperial party, showing off her perfect body and the number of her lovers reached a new high. I think Lady Pasha always regretted the way things had ended between her and Father. I know Father broke up with her before he got wed, but I think Lady Pasha had believed, and strongly, for quite some time, that Father would make her his mistress and let her have more power than my Mother."
"Anyway, Father and Mother got back together for the baby and for me but things were still strained between them and one night, Mother, who was two months from her due date, woke up alone in her bed. Dread quickly made its way to her heart and she went, in the middle of the night, to Lady Pasha's rooms. She found my Father there. He wasn't in the bed with her, but it didn't matter to my mother and she exploded in tears. The shock had too much for her and it provoked an early labour. This is how my little brother came to this world."
"Mother never forgave Father, nor did Father ever forgave her for the so-called affair between her and Lord Ruben. Lord Ruben looked a lot like Mother, white-blond hair and piercing eyes, therefore when Jareth was born, the rumour was enhanced. And when he opened his eyes for the first time and that everybody saw his mismatched eyes, they all believed the rumour to be true. You may not know it but mismatched eyes are the sign of the devil in the Underground."
Sarah's eyes clouded with pain and sorrow and she almost felt the painful grip he earlier had on her arms, his face inches from hers, his eyes, his beautiful eyes glowing with fury as he told her very little of his childhood, as he told her his pain.
"Whenever Mother would gaze down at Jareth, she would remember that night where she found Father in another's room, while Father would only see in Jareth was Lord Ruben. Can you imagine?" Millibel Grace's face fell and her voice took an emotional turn, weighted with a silent pain and helplessness, her tone quickened and her eyebrows came together forming a frown. "Added to this, all the political games, all the struggles for power from the young Lords and on and on. The Court, a nest of snakes and rats, the fake smiles and scared looks at his mismatched eyes. Can you imagine? I can't." Her shoulders slumped, like the weight on her shoulders suddenly increased. "Because I was loved and knew it, while Jareth has never been sure of the existence of that love."
Millibel Grace bent her head, till her bangs covered her eyes. An image flashed quickly in Sarah's mind: a white-blond angel, her white wings opened behind her, as she was about to take her fly, but the shackles on her wrists were holding her down.
Millibel Grace started again in a small voice, her head still bent. "You, who teach to the young, can you phantom what went through his head at that time? How unloved he had felt." She raised her head and the hardness of her eyes surprised Sarah.
"I ask you my riddle, now, Sarah, can birds in a cage, fly away again, one day, if freed?"
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Sarah opened her eyes slowly, the ringing of her clock blaring in her ears. She wasn't tired but she wasn't rested either. Sarah sat up in her bed, perfectly awake, and drawing her knees under her chin, she wrapped her arms around them. Unmoving, she thought. She thought of what she had dreamt, she remembered every word, which had been said.
His sister had visited her during the night. His dead sister.
Goosebumps ran up quickly her spine and Sarah threw her covers away, getting out of her bed. Walking next to it, Sarah slammed the clock off, without even thinking about it. She needed a coffee, right now, a strong coffee. A ghost had come to her during the night.
Agitated, Sarah couldn't stop her fingers from shaking and the dead silence of her apartment didn't help either. Not knowing exactly why, Sarah quickly turned on her television and even the radio, she needed noise, she needed to pretend she wasn't alone. Sarah turned her shaking knees towards the kitchen. She needed that blasted coffee.
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Taking a deep breath, Sarah opened her eyes again. And for the fourth times, tried to get the coffee spoon inside the machine and not around it. But her shaky fingers only allowed half of it to get inside the machine.
Finally, Sarah got the machine on and the water started to heat. Sarah turned to her clock to check up the time: she still had an hour and a half before school started.
Her gaze fell on her kitchen table and a shriek escaped her lips.
On the table, on a white paper, a graceful hand had traced a small question. "Can birds in a cage fly away if freed?"
It wasn't a dream, it really wasn't a dream. His sister had truly visited her last night. Sarah approached the table, extending her hand towards the paper. She took it and observed the question in its middle.
Sarah sat heavily on the chair, her heart pounding in her ears. So it was true, she thought, all the talk. He didn't believe in love. He refused to admit it. Sarah almost laughed. She had wished she had the chance to understand his riddle, well now she had it.
Thinking back on the conversation Millibel Grace and she had, Sarah pondered on what she could do. She didn't really understand what Millibel Grace wanted from her, but it was obvious she needed to do something for him, what was the question. Sarah watched, transfixed, the black liquid fall drop by drop. What did Millibel Grace want.
Sighing, Sarah threw the paper back on the table and stared at the words. I wonder why I couldn't talk. Sarah suddenly thought.
The words seemed to emerge from the paper, like they had been floating under the surface, just waiting for her to make them float. In the same graceful writing, a single sentence appeared under the first. "Dead people and the ones living aren't supposed to talk to each other." It read.
Sarah shrieked again, jumped three feet away from the table and blinked. She rubbed her face several times, checking each times between her fingers if she had been hallucinating, but no, the words were still there waiting.
Finally, Sarah yelled, panicked. "What the hell!"
The words shimmered and Sarah watched over words come to replace them. "We know each other now, and technically speaking, we aren't talking. We're corresponding. Don't worry, it can't harm you." The answer said.
Sarah swallowed hard and wide eyes, walked around the table, surveying the paper, asking in a pitch voice. "How is it possible?"
"Sarah, calm down." The words read. Sarah's breathing quickened.
"How do you want me to calm down! I'm talking to a paper!"
"Write down your answers." The words said.
Blinking again, Sarah waited, but as nothing happened, she reached a pen and write down.
"How is this all possible?"
"Somebody owed me up there." Came the swift reply.
Sarah sat stunned and finally rolled her eyes. "Just like him." She wrote. She was relaxing.
"Hey! We're brother and sister." The reply brought a smile to her lips. Her pen wavered. There was something she wanted to know, she had always wanted to know, but didn't know if she could ask.
"Can I ask you a question? About where you are, right now?" She pressed.
The answer took a few seconds before coming. "You mean about the place where the dead go?"
"Yes." Sarah's reply was firm.
"Go ahead, it never hurts to ask."
"What is it where you are?"
Millibel Grace's answer took again a few seconds before coming. "You mean what is here?"
"Yes." Sarah wrote again.
"We call it Paradise, but only because when we were alive that was how we called it." Millibel Grace explained.
"And what are there in Paradise?" Sarah pressed on. Curiosity picked, Sarah wanted to know.
"There is only one thing here."
"What?"
"Future."
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A weird chapter, don't you think?
Anyway, I hope it's pleased you all (drop the gun, dearest, I can't write otherwise!!!)
As usual leave a little message in the box, please!
See you all
A hundred of peach-flavoured kisses for each of you!
Mikim