AN: Guess what? I'm alive, and posting... will wonders never cease? I'd
love some feedback on this chapter. I was lukewarm on it but letylyf (Irene),
my beta, made me happy I wrote it. :) Speaking of beta-ing, any mistakes
within are mine. Also, standard disclaimers apply, as usual.
Happy readings.
**************** Take Me Away: Chapter Nine ******************
Sarah sung to herself as she dusted paintings older than humanity, the very
mundane feather duster moving in swift strokes as she strained to reach the top
of the frames from her precarious position on the footstool. She was barefoot
and dressed in a simple linen dress, hair pulled back in a snug braid, slender
waist given definition by the apron she always wore when cleaning.
Dirt smudged one cheek and she was sweaty from working since dawn. She was
grubby and beautiful in one breath as her clear voice carried through the
corridors of the Goblin King's castle. She shouldn't be beautiful, but she
was. Beautiful and real and alive and so mortal. So happy. She shone with
a measure of inner peace she had only briefly known once before in life, when
another life had grown within her womb.
Jareth watched her, his subject, his, as she worked, oblivious to his presence.
She was better than the life he had granted her, as a maid, a housekeeper, a
caretaker for all the lost children. Though this life was better than the one
she had made for herself Aboveground.
He was not kind to Sarah Williams. He didn't know how to be. She was too
much to him. He didn't know to be gentle with things he treasured. The
Goblin King didn't know how to nurture frailty, not when his own heart was
made of steel.
But Sarah didn't need to be coddled. She knew, better than any, what she was
doing when she gave herself to him. She understood him… sometimes she
understood him better than he understood himself. If she had wanted pity, she
could have stayed among people who understood mortality, death.
Her loss, though painful, meant little to him. His compassion was reserved
for things he could understand. Death, loss, were nearly foreign in his life.
Even time bowed to the Goblin King.
Jareth cleared his throat to announce himself, crop tapping impatiently at
his boot heel. She ignored him for a minute until she was finished cleaning,
then climbed down the stool with swift grace before turning to him, a small
smile curling her full lips into a smirk he recognized as his own.
He felt a swift surge of pride as he smiled, canines showing, and offered her
his arm. "Come," came the impatient command.
Sarah blinked once, liquid gaze speculative, but merely bowed shallowly before
crossing the distance that separated them and placing her hand on his arm.
Jareth watched the slender flashing of her bare ankles as she walked, and let
his mismatched gaze be drawn to her work roughened hand when she laid it in his
keeping.
His free hand came up, gloved in kidskin gloves, and caressed her knuckles with
long fingertips. Sarah raised dark brows in silent query, amused, and the
Goblin King rumbled with ill-concealed laughter. Heart lighter than it had been
in a millennium, he grasped her small hand securely within his own.
They danced to music neither dared to name as they crossed lines they were never
meant to cross in their time together. There were no rules. Sometimes Jareth
wondered if there was even a game anymore. Sometimes it seemed like his entire
world had narrowed and all he had left were the moves he and Sarah glided to.
He was her King. He owned her in every way possible. He owned her fealty, her
life, her body and soul. But in turn he was responsible for her, for her
welfare, and for her happiness to some extent. She was his to protect and he
would protect her when he wouldn't have for years past. Because she was his and
no one threatened what he claimed.
She was his subject and yet, she wasn't subservient. Jareth had never broken
her. He had simply gathered the pieces she gave him. She had *given* herself
to him in full knowledge of what that meant. Perhaps she was the only one who
truly knew what it meant to have Jareth be her ruler.
He owned Sarah Williams only because she had chosen to give herself to him.
No other was so brave, or foolish. No other had had defeated him in his
Labyrinth since its creation, since his creation. One mortal had bested him
twice now, once by bringing the Goblin King to his knees, once by kneeling
before him and declaring him her lord, her master, her King.
Magic as swift and merciless as winter came at his call, leaving the scent of
first snowfall behind. Sarah was fitting in well in the place she had forged
in his kingdom.
*************************************************************************
She looked around his private gardens, face interested but distant. Jareth
smiled. He knew she was remembering his roses and the scars they had left behind.
Dreams were never easy to touch. Neither were memories. Sometimes though, you
could manage a fleeting impression of both, if he willed it.
There was low mutterings and fierce cursing. Jareth's smile dimmed into neutrality
as Hoggle shuffled around the corner, pruning shears in gnarled hands. He felt
Sarah still beside him.
Before them, Hoggle froze as well, face twisted between desperate hope and utter
despair. "Sarah?" he whispered as he stumbled forward a step.
There was a half sob from the woman at his side and she looked at him, begging
permission she never would have asked for a decade ago, two. With a slight nod,
he obliquely granted his subjects what they most desired.
Sarah ran, bare fleet flashing dirtied soles at her King, as she flung herself at
Hoggle. The dwarf embraced her roughly, shears tossed aside, their voices a
babble of emotion as they tried to bridge the distance that the years had made.
He finally pulled back enough to cradle the woman's face with gnarled, work
roughened hands. "You're here."
Sarah smiled at her old friend. "There's nowhere I'd rather be."
Hoggle tilted his head and studied her before sighing. "Poor child," he murmured
in reply and kissed her brow with an eloquence that surprised even the
unflappable Goblin King. He did not ask what had brought her to Jareth's heel
though, or what had kept her from calling him to her side. It wasn't Hoggle's
place to judge.
Sarah had Jareth for that.
*************************************************************************
She visited Hoggle in the evenings, when Jareth thought to spare her to send her
on her way. He took her too, to visit Sir Didymus, still faithfully guarding
the Bog with typical foolish ferocity. She cleaned during the day and tended
babies, her untrained voice filling Jareth's castle with the sound of mortality.
And still they danced in perfect symmetry, a dangerous blend of darkness and
light, power and weakness, masculinity and femininity. They danced until both
were sharp and soft and neither knew when one started and the other began.
Jareth and Sarah touched and feinted, ducked and passed each other by with
deadly grace unique to their relationship.
They drew their breath in unison.
She slipped beneath his covers late one night, as candles burned low and wax
dripped to the floor. Jareth waited for her to speak but it wasn't a new game,
simply another move in the dance. He kissed her in silence and smiled when
her cold, bare feet brushed against his warm skin. They danced through the
night and slept past dawn and neither managed to win, despite their power
struggles.
Neither would admit defeat though, and the nights Sarah didn't go to Jareth's
bed, he sought out hers. Demeaned himself by sleeping on the coarse cotton
sheets in the small, drafty room he had given her. On those nights his feet
were cold and Sarah laughed as she warmed him with the distant compassion he
had taught her.
love some feedback on this chapter. I was lukewarm on it but letylyf (Irene),
my beta, made me happy I wrote it. :) Speaking of beta-ing, any mistakes
within are mine. Also, standard disclaimers apply, as usual.
Happy readings.
**************** Take Me Away: Chapter Nine ******************
Sarah sung to herself as she dusted paintings older than humanity, the very
mundane feather duster moving in swift strokes as she strained to reach the top
of the frames from her precarious position on the footstool. She was barefoot
and dressed in a simple linen dress, hair pulled back in a snug braid, slender
waist given definition by the apron she always wore when cleaning.
Dirt smudged one cheek and she was sweaty from working since dawn. She was
grubby and beautiful in one breath as her clear voice carried through the
corridors of the Goblin King's castle. She shouldn't be beautiful, but she
was. Beautiful and real and alive and so mortal. So happy. She shone with
a measure of inner peace she had only briefly known once before in life, when
another life had grown within her womb.
Jareth watched her, his subject, his, as she worked, oblivious to his presence.
She was better than the life he had granted her, as a maid, a housekeeper, a
caretaker for all the lost children. Though this life was better than the one
she had made for herself Aboveground.
He was not kind to Sarah Williams. He didn't know how to be. She was too
much to him. He didn't know to be gentle with things he treasured. The
Goblin King didn't know how to nurture frailty, not when his own heart was
made of steel.
But Sarah didn't need to be coddled. She knew, better than any, what she was
doing when she gave herself to him. She understood him… sometimes she
understood him better than he understood himself. If she had wanted pity, she
could have stayed among people who understood mortality, death.
Her loss, though painful, meant little to him. His compassion was reserved
for things he could understand. Death, loss, were nearly foreign in his life.
Even time bowed to the Goblin King.
Jareth cleared his throat to announce himself, crop tapping impatiently at
his boot heel. She ignored him for a minute until she was finished cleaning,
then climbed down the stool with swift grace before turning to him, a small
smile curling her full lips into a smirk he recognized as his own.
He felt a swift surge of pride as he smiled, canines showing, and offered her
his arm. "Come," came the impatient command.
Sarah blinked once, liquid gaze speculative, but merely bowed shallowly before
crossing the distance that separated them and placing her hand on his arm.
Jareth watched the slender flashing of her bare ankles as she walked, and let
his mismatched gaze be drawn to her work roughened hand when she laid it in his
keeping.
His free hand came up, gloved in kidskin gloves, and caressed her knuckles with
long fingertips. Sarah raised dark brows in silent query, amused, and the
Goblin King rumbled with ill-concealed laughter. Heart lighter than it had been
in a millennium, he grasped her small hand securely within his own.
They danced to music neither dared to name as they crossed lines they were never
meant to cross in their time together. There were no rules. Sometimes Jareth
wondered if there was even a game anymore. Sometimes it seemed like his entire
world had narrowed and all he had left were the moves he and Sarah glided to.
He was her King. He owned her in every way possible. He owned her fealty, her
life, her body and soul. But in turn he was responsible for her, for her
welfare, and for her happiness to some extent. She was his to protect and he
would protect her when he wouldn't have for years past. Because she was his and
no one threatened what he claimed.
She was his subject and yet, she wasn't subservient. Jareth had never broken
her. He had simply gathered the pieces she gave him. She had *given* herself
to him in full knowledge of what that meant. Perhaps she was the only one who
truly knew what it meant to have Jareth be her ruler.
He owned Sarah Williams only because she had chosen to give herself to him.
No other was so brave, or foolish. No other had had defeated him in his
Labyrinth since its creation, since his creation. One mortal had bested him
twice now, once by bringing the Goblin King to his knees, once by kneeling
before him and declaring him her lord, her master, her King.
Magic as swift and merciless as winter came at his call, leaving the scent of
first snowfall behind. Sarah was fitting in well in the place she had forged
in his kingdom.
*************************************************************************
She looked around his private gardens, face interested but distant. Jareth
smiled. He knew she was remembering his roses and the scars they had left behind.
Dreams were never easy to touch. Neither were memories. Sometimes though, you
could manage a fleeting impression of both, if he willed it.
There was low mutterings and fierce cursing. Jareth's smile dimmed into neutrality
as Hoggle shuffled around the corner, pruning shears in gnarled hands. He felt
Sarah still beside him.
Before them, Hoggle froze as well, face twisted between desperate hope and utter
despair. "Sarah?" he whispered as he stumbled forward a step.
There was a half sob from the woman at his side and she looked at him, begging
permission she never would have asked for a decade ago, two. With a slight nod,
he obliquely granted his subjects what they most desired.
Sarah ran, bare fleet flashing dirtied soles at her King, as she flung herself at
Hoggle. The dwarf embraced her roughly, shears tossed aside, their voices a
babble of emotion as they tried to bridge the distance that the years had made.
He finally pulled back enough to cradle the woman's face with gnarled, work
roughened hands. "You're here."
Sarah smiled at her old friend. "There's nowhere I'd rather be."
Hoggle tilted his head and studied her before sighing. "Poor child," he murmured
in reply and kissed her brow with an eloquence that surprised even the
unflappable Goblin King. He did not ask what had brought her to Jareth's heel
though, or what had kept her from calling him to her side. It wasn't Hoggle's
place to judge.
Sarah had Jareth for that.
*************************************************************************
She visited Hoggle in the evenings, when Jareth thought to spare her to send her
on her way. He took her too, to visit Sir Didymus, still faithfully guarding
the Bog with typical foolish ferocity. She cleaned during the day and tended
babies, her untrained voice filling Jareth's castle with the sound of mortality.
And still they danced in perfect symmetry, a dangerous blend of darkness and
light, power and weakness, masculinity and femininity. They danced until both
were sharp and soft and neither knew when one started and the other began.
Jareth and Sarah touched and feinted, ducked and passed each other by with
deadly grace unique to their relationship.
They drew their breath in unison.
She slipped beneath his covers late one night, as candles burned low and wax
dripped to the floor. Jareth waited for her to speak but it wasn't a new game,
simply another move in the dance. He kissed her in silence and smiled when
her cold, bare feet brushed against his warm skin. They danced through the
night and slept past dawn and neither managed to win, despite their power
struggles.
Neither would admit defeat though, and the nights Sarah didn't go to Jareth's
bed, he sought out hers. Demeaned himself by sleeping on the coarse cotton
sheets in the small, drafty room he had given her. On those nights his feet
were cold and Sarah laughed as she warmed him with the distant compassion he
had taught her.