Phase 2: You Fiend!
When Sarah opened her eyes again, they were in a room she had never seen before.
Jareth stepped back, an aristocratic sneer on his Fae lips. "What do you think, Sarah?"
She looked around. The bed was covered in dark red velvet, with velvet curtains on three sides. His velvet dressing gown was flung carelessly over a chair. She looked again at the bed, and gasped when she realized she was in a bedroom.
"You're a fiend!" she gasped, taking a step back from his dangerously close masculinity.
He grinned and tossed his choppy blond locks. "I meant the décor, Sarah, but I'll accept the compliment." He took a step closer, once again making the proximity of his masculinity dangerous. "For I am not afraid to admit to my darker side. Why are you?"
Sarah blushed and stammered, sure that the darker side had something to do with sex. Or maybe not having a terminal illness.
"You're a fiend," she spat after a moment of thought.
"Sarah, is that any way to talk to your future husband?" He smiled and waved a gloved Fae hand, and a flimsy garment appeared.
"You shall be safe here in the Labyrinth," he said. "You may sleep here tonight, while I order my goblins to prepare a chamber for you. They will be up all night making more velvet, and you must get some sleep." He ran his tongue over his pointy Fae teeth. "You should be…rested."
"Jareth, what have you done?" She looked around. "Also, why is my disease gone?"
"I am Fae," he responded with a disarming immortal smile. "Goodnight, Sarah."
"Wait! I have a lot of plot questions!" she called, but he had already disappeared in a flurry of chiffon.
She sighed and looked at the nightgown in her hands. It was soft, probably a rayon/polyester blend. Maybe 60%/40%. But then, Sarah was sure of so little these days. She sighed and slipped the knee-length, sleeveless, vaguely transparent, slightly blanket-sewn at the hem nightgown over her head.
She sat on the edge of the bed. "I wish I had some tea," she mused. "Everything else here is so strange."
A cup of tea appeared on the nightstand.
"Aha!" She grinned. "I wish to be outside the Labyrinth!"
A small pitcher of cream appeared beside her cup.
*
When Jareth appeared in his room that night to pick up his hair glitter, Sarah was fitfully asleep, her vaguely transparent nightgown artfully twisted over the womanly assets she had spent her years outside the Labyrinth tending, like flowering blossoms of roses.
He spread his velvet cape over the velvety soft coverlet, leaning down to brush her silky velvety hair off her porcelain face. She seemed so young still, so inexperienced, and he knew that even though he had saved her from death to come be the queen of the Underground, as soon as she found out she was going to want to scream at him and run away.
He wondered if he really loved her, or if that had been an illusion, and the velvet curtain of love had been drawn over his Fae eyesight, until he thought himself besotted with a mortal girl whose sweet and tender love could have sent him to a mortal prison for many years. He couldn't be sure, wouldn't be sure until he held her willingly in his arms. Or mostly.
He leaned down, brushing his fair Fae hair aside to whisper into her ear.
"My darling rose, my sweet velvet body cushion, soon you will be all mine, and your silky depths and heights shall tremble for my love. And on that day, you shall thank me for saving you, not only now, but all those years ago in the Labyrinth, when I assured your return to me, sweetest Sarah."
In her sleep she stirred, frowning a little. "Tea," she whispered faintly.
He smiled. "Yes, my little kettle, soon you shall scream for the hot water of my affections."
Her eyelids fluttered against her silken velvet skin, and he waved his gloved hand and disappeared, and when Sarah woke there was only a sliver of pale, tan, hairless chest where the Goblin King had been.
*
Sarah hadn't slept well all night, wondering why she wasn't feeling sick anymore, and also why Jareth had brought her back. What kind of sweet berry was she? Her dreams had been strange as well, filled with cups of tea and a maze she couldn't solve. There was a puzzle at the center, and she was afraid, deathly afraid to answer its question, for it meant giving away her heart.
Or it meant she had to stop having tea before bedtime.
A knock at the door startled her, and she called out "Hello?"
A goblin entered, short as most goblins, but just tall enough to carry a dress without the edges dragging. "I'm ordered to dress mistress," she said apprehensively.
Sarah tossed her hair, accidentally knocking the bedside table over with the sheer weight and shine of her ebony locks. "I shall wear what I choose, and not what the Goblin King orders me to!" she declared.
The goblin began to shake. "Then shall I get the clothes where mistress has been sick on them?"
*
Sarah appeared in the king's throne room. She was dressed in a dress of palest blue and deepest cerulean, with puffed navy sleeves and a full skirt slashed to reveal a lapis petticoat.
"Jareth," she yelled into the empty room, "send me back home!"
Jareth's eyes raked over her frame, and he adjusted his codpiece, and the ends of his gloves.
"Why should I?" he asked. "I've been waiting for years for you to return to me. When you were too sick to resist, I took you back by force in order to heal you and offer you my kingdom. Also, I wanted someone to wear all the dresses I've had made with someone of your general height in mind."
Sarah stamped her blue-slipper-clad foot in annoyance. "Jareth, you can't bring someone somewhere against their will and force them to do what you say!"
"It seems that years ago you did the same things to me, and yet you don't seem worried about that."
"You stole my brother!"
"You asked me to."
"That's not the point! You fiend!" She tossed her ebony tresses. "Send me home!"
"I cannot. And even if I could, if I sent you back, you would die."
"Better die than be your slave forever!" she cried.
He stood, removing his glass of champagne where he had been resting it on his codpiece. "Sarah," he said, "you're missing my point."
"I hate you!" she screamed, and she picked up the cerulean, blue, and lapis skirts in her hands and charged out of the throne room.
When she stopped to catch her breath, she realized she was far beyond the grounds of the castle, and it was getting dark. She rubbed the angry tears from her eyes.
"I refuse to be the wife of the Goblin King!" she said. "Nice boys don't kidnap you before they propose."
Her mind reminded her, The Goblin King was never a nice boy. And that's what you've always desired. A not-nice boy.
She told her mind to be quiet.
"I wonder where I am," she said to no one in particular, looking around at the forest around her. The leaves were velvet soft, and with the coming night they were dark as the eye of Jareth's that was darker than his other eye, which was lighter. "Just another part of the Labyrinth," she sighed. "The 'velvet tree' part. Ah well. I entered it once and made it through," she told herself. "I can make it through again!"
She ran through the velveteen forest. She ran along cobblestone lanes and between ivy-covered walls. She ran by swamplands and the roots of gnarled trees. She even ran passed through stinking heaps of garbage filled with drunk, sleeping goblins, evidence that the Underground lacked, among other things, decent recycling programs or homeless shelters.
Not once did she stop. "Dwarfs and talking worms be damned!" she hissed between heavy breaths. "The tricky Fae magicks that infuse this place won't distract me from my goals this time!" Even the tiny imp shouting profanities about Sarah's departed mother could slow her mad dash through the Labyrinth.
She was so engrossed with running that it never dawned on her that she had no idea where she was going. Labyrinths had the tendency of doing that sort of thing. Especially Fae labyrinths.
When Sarah opened her eyes again, they were in a room she had never seen before.
Jareth stepped back, an aristocratic sneer on his Fae lips. "What do you think, Sarah?"
She looked around. The bed was covered in dark red velvet, with velvet curtains on three sides. His velvet dressing gown was flung carelessly over a chair. She looked again at the bed, and gasped when she realized she was in a bedroom.
"You're a fiend!" she gasped, taking a step back from his dangerously close masculinity.
He grinned and tossed his choppy blond locks. "I meant the décor, Sarah, but I'll accept the compliment." He took a step closer, once again making the proximity of his masculinity dangerous. "For I am not afraid to admit to my darker side. Why are you?"
Sarah blushed and stammered, sure that the darker side had something to do with sex. Or maybe not having a terminal illness.
"You're a fiend," she spat after a moment of thought.
"Sarah, is that any way to talk to your future husband?" He smiled and waved a gloved Fae hand, and a flimsy garment appeared.
"You shall be safe here in the Labyrinth," he said. "You may sleep here tonight, while I order my goblins to prepare a chamber for you. They will be up all night making more velvet, and you must get some sleep." He ran his tongue over his pointy Fae teeth. "You should be…rested."
"Jareth, what have you done?" She looked around. "Also, why is my disease gone?"
"I am Fae," he responded with a disarming immortal smile. "Goodnight, Sarah."
"Wait! I have a lot of plot questions!" she called, but he had already disappeared in a flurry of chiffon.
She sighed and looked at the nightgown in her hands. It was soft, probably a rayon/polyester blend. Maybe 60%/40%. But then, Sarah was sure of so little these days. She sighed and slipped the knee-length, sleeveless, vaguely transparent, slightly blanket-sewn at the hem nightgown over her head.
She sat on the edge of the bed. "I wish I had some tea," she mused. "Everything else here is so strange."
A cup of tea appeared on the nightstand.
"Aha!" She grinned. "I wish to be outside the Labyrinth!"
A small pitcher of cream appeared beside her cup.
*
When Jareth appeared in his room that night to pick up his hair glitter, Sarah was fitfully asleep, her vaguely transparent nightgown artfully twisted over the womanly assets she had spent her years outside the Labyrinth tending, like flowering blossoms of roses.
He spread his velvet cape over the velvety soft coverlet, leaning down to brush her silky velvety hair off her porcelain face. She seemed so young still, so inexperienced, and he knew that even though he had saved her from death to come be the queen of the Underground, as soon as she found out she was going to want to scream at him and run away.
He wondered if he really loved her, or if that had been an illusion, and the velvet curtain of love had been drawn over his Fae eyesight, until he thought himself besotted with a mortal girl whose sweet and tender love could have sent him to a mortal prison for many years. He couldn't be sure, wouldn't be sure until he held her willingly in his arms. Or mostly.
He leaned down, brushing his fair Fae hair aside to whisper into her ear.
"My darling rose, my sweet velvet body cushion, soon you will be all mine, and your silky depths and heights shall tremble for my love. And on that day, you shall thank me for saving you, not only now, but all those years ago in the Labyrinth, when I assured your return to me, sweetest Sarah."
In her sleep she stirred, frowning a little. "Tea," she whispered faintly.
He smiled. "Yes, my little kettle, soon you shall scream for the hot water of my affections."
Her eyelids fluttered against her silken velvet skin, and he waved his gloved hand and disappeared, and when Sarah woke there was only a sliver of pale, tan, hairless chest where the Goblin King had been.
*
Sarah hadn't slept well all night, wondering why she wasn't feeling sick anymore, and also why Jareth had brought her back. What kind of sweet berry was she? Her dreams had been strange as well, filled with cups of tea and a maze she couldn't solve. There was a puzzle at the center, and she was afraid, deathly afraid to answer its question, for it meant giving away her heart.
Or it meant she had to stop having tea before bedtime.
A knock at the door startled her, and she called out "Hello?"
A goblin entered, short as most goblins, but just tall enough to carry a dress without the edges dragging. "I'm ordered to dress mistress," she said apprehensively.
Sarah tossed her hair, accidentally knocking the bedside table over with the sheer weight and shine of her ebony locks. "I shall wear what I choose, and not what the Goblin King orders me to!" she declared.
The goblin began to shake. "Then shall I get the clothes where mistress has been sick on them?"
*
Sarah appeared in the king's throne room. She was dressed in a dress of palest blue and deepest cerulean, with puffed navy sleeves and a full skirt slashed to reveal a lapis petticoat.
"Jareth," she yelled into the empty room, "send me back home!"
Jareth's eyes raked over her frame, and he adjusted his codpiece, and the ends of his gloves.
"Why should I?" he asked. "I've been waiting for years for you to return to me. When you were too sick to resist, I took you back by force in order to heal you and offer you my kingdom. Also, I wanted someone to wear all the dresses I've had made with someone of your general height in mind."
Sarah stamped her blue-slipper-clad foot in annoyance. "Jareth, you can't bring someone somewhere against their will and force them to do what you say!"
"It seems that years ago you did the same things to me, and yet you don't seem worried about that."
"You stole my brother!"
"You asked me to."
"That's not the point! You fiend!" She tossed her ebony tresses. "Send me home!"
"I cannot. And even if I could, if I sent you back, you would die."
"Better die than be your slave forever!" she cried.
He stood, removing his glass of champagne where he had been resting it on his codpiece. "Sarah," he said, "you're missing my point."
"I hate you!" she screamed, and she picked up the cerulean, blue, and lapis skirts in her hands and charged out of the throne room.
When she stopped to catch her breath, she realized she was far beyond the grounds of the castle, and it was getting dark. She rubbed the angry tears from her eyes.
"I refuse to be the wife of the Goblin King!" she said. "Nice boys don't kidnap you before they propose."
Her mind reminded her, The Goblin King was never a nice boy. And that's what you've always desired. A not-nice boy.
She told her mind to be quiet.
"I wonder where I am," she said to no one in particular, looking around at the forest around her. The leaves were velvet soft, and with the coming night they were dark as the eye of Jareth's that was darker than his other eye, which was lighter. "Just another part of the Labyrinth," she sighed. "The 'velvet tree' part. Ah well. I entered it once and made it through," she told herself. "I can make it through again!"
She ran through the velveteen forest. She ran along cobblestone lanes and between ivy-covered walls. She ran by swamplands and the roots of gnarled trees. She even ran passed through stinking heaps of garbage filled with drunk, sleeping goblins, evidence that the Underground lacked, among other things, decent recycling programs or homeless shelters.
Not once did she stop. "Dwarfs and talking worms be damned!" she hissed between heavy breaths. "The tricky Fae magicks that infuse this place won't distract me from my goals this time!" Even the tiny imp shouting profanities about Sarah's departed mother could slow her mad dash through the Labyrinth.
She was so engrossed with running that it never dawned on her that she had no idea where she was going. Labyrinths had the tendency of doing that sort of thing. Especially Fae labyrinths.