It was the bleakest meal Sarah had ever eaten. The food was good enough and she was very hungry, but the knowledge that she was a prisoner in an inescapable Labyrinth dampened her spirits so badly that her food tasted like dry, crumbly sand.
"Are you not enjoying your food, Sarah?" Jareth was watching her over the rim of the elaborate wine glass he held before himself. Sarah glanced up quickly, her brow wrinkling.
"It's very good," she replied politely.
"But you aren't enjoying it." It wasn't a question, but Sarah forced a smile and tried to speak around the dryness in her mouth.
"I'm not very hungry, I guess." Her stomach chose that moment to let out a loud rumble, and she flushed, glancing down in fury at her traitor of a stomach.
"You can't enjoy the food, can you?" Jareth rose slowly, the lights in the dining hall making shimmering stars of gold appear and shift in his hair. He moved toward Sarah, his poet shirt fluttering faintly, and she rose out of her chair quickly, alarmed. He tightened his lips faintly in annoyance, and made quelling motions at her with his gloved hands. "You don't have to act so frightened of me."
Sarah's gray eyes flashed accusation at him, and her voice was bitter as she quoted back at him, "'You cowered before me; I was frightening.' Do I misquote you, Jareth?"
Jareth's thin lips grew thinner as he glared at her, his voice soft. "Careful, Sarah."
"Or what?" Sarah shot back, realizing she was not just playing with fire, but throwing dynamite into an active volcano.
Jareth strode over to her, catching her behind her head with one strong, black-gloved hand. His other hand locked on her upper arm. Gently--but with irresistible strength--Jareth titled her head up, forcing her to look into his eyes.
"I have been kind to you, Sarah. I offered you a choice in coming to the Labyrinth with me--I did not force you."
"No, you tricked me!" Sarah snarled, trying to jerk away from him. Jareth's hand tightened faintly on her upper arm, and he gave her head a little shake, keeping his palm firmly behind her neck.
"I did not trick you. I offered you exactly what you've always wanted, and you accepted. You have invoked magick, Sarah. You brought it into your life last night when you called on it to send Toby to my castle. It is with you now, whether or not you want it. And it is not as easily dissuaded as I may be. I can be turned away with the right words. You cannot chase off the magick, Sarah. And you cannot change what is." He gave her head another quick shake, and Sarah felt her jaw jutting out in furious resentment. "You are here now, Sarah. You are going to stay here. There are no rules to this game. You cannot escape. You cannot be rescued, because no one knows you're here except me." He thrust his face close to hers, the tip of his long, Roman nose brushing against hers. "Except me."
Sarah slapped him. It was a good slap, with all of her fury and the weight of her arm behind it. Her palm connected smartly with his fine-boned cheek, the smack loud in the still room. Jareth reeled back, releasing her head and other arm. Sarah was panting and shocked, staring first at her hand--which was smarting angrily--then at Jareth's slowly reddening cheek. She had punched him earlier because she'd had to escape. Her only excuse for hitting him this time was that she'd lost her temper.
Oh, God, I can't believe I just did that. What is wrong with me? What was I thinking? Did I completely lose my mind?
Jareth's gloved hand rose slowly to his cheek. As his fingertips brushed the red mark of her palm on his face, he jerked in pain. Jareth's nostrils flared, his jaw tightened, and his lips pressed together. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Sarah. There was a long moment where Sarah stood cringing, expecting at any moment to be struck down by his wrath. However, Jareth eventually released a lungful of air, and rubbed a gloved hand over his face.
"I apologize for forcing you to do that, Sarah. I was provoking you, and I realize that."
It was the last thing Sarah expected to hear, and she frowned, certain it was a trick.
"I've not been a very good host since you arrived. I've enticed you to fight with me since you woke in the throne room. After I mocked you for being a bad hostess at your own home, I turn around and make an even worse example of myself." Jareth paused, carefully rubbing the mark of her palm on his cheek. "I apologize for that."
"I... and... I'm sorry for... leaving my... my handprint... on your face." Jareth's apology had her confused. He hadn't struck her as the type to apologize for his deficiencies, but here he was, apologizing in the nicest way she'd been apologized to by anyone in a long time.
"Since you are going to be here for awhile," Jareth said, moving toward her again, "I feel I should show you your room." He crooked his arm, offering her his elbow. She hesitated a moment, heart pounding. Other than the violence she'd inflicted on him, she hadn't really touched him. After a long, tense moment, she put the tips of her fingers on the proffered arm. Jareth gave her the briefest of nods, then began walking. Sarah found she had to almost skip to keep up with him--his long, breech-covered legs took one step for two of her own. Jareth seemed not to notice, lost in thought. At first, Sarah was glad for the quiet of their walk--it gave her a chance to try and memorize the way they were taking to her room. However, she soon realized that even if Jareth had given her a map and marked the exact route, she would never have been able to find her room. It was down too many corridors, twisting and turning, slipping up stairs and down hallways. She gave up on memorizing the path, and tried to relax in the silence around them. Eventually, though, the silence began to grate on Sarah's nerves, and she spoke up.
"You know your way around pretty well."
Jareth glanced over at her, his step faltering slightly, torn from his private musings. "I've lived here awhile."
"Really?" Sarah asked, only a little curious.
"A very long while."
"I guess that helps in navigating your way around. I'm already completely lost."
"You'll learn your way around, too. After a year, you'll be as familiar with the main paths as I am."
Sarah's mouth snapped shut. 'A year.' Hearing her sentence proclaimed like that, with such calm, made her stomach twist, and for a second she worried she might be sick. Slowly, the nausea passed, and she sighed, trying to force her voice to be steady.
"How am I supposed to find my room again?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Jareth stopped, and smiled at her suddenly, disarming her. "Anything in the castle is easily found if you just concentrate on it. You are no longer an invading enemy here, but a princess. The castle will mold itself to suit you. Should I have willed it, your room would have been just a brief hallway and a staircase away from the dining hall."
Sarah frowned at this, not entirely comfortable with the idea of the castle being able to shift and change around her. "Well, if you could have willed it, why didn't you? My feet aren't exactly feeling snug and comfortable at the moment."
"I apologize. I needed some time to think. You see, Sarah, I had an ulterior motive in bringing you here." Jareth's expression was one of a young boy caught making mischief, a boy who fully expected a strong scolding from an angry nursemaid.
"Why am I not surprised?" Sarah muttered. "All this high-brow talk about granting my wishes and making me into a princess... I didn't think that was all there was to it."
"Sarah, I had good reason for inviting you here." Jareth ignored Sarah's quick, derisive snort at the word 'invited' and continued speaking. "I am lonely, Sarah."
"That isn't my worry!" Sarah snapped, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance.
"No, but it is mine," Jareth responded, an edge creeping into his voice. "I wanted a companion, someone to spend time with me. The goblins are not good companions, although they are loyal and obedient. When I first saw you... you were so sparkling and innocent. I knew I had to have you. When I faced you in my Labyrinth, I found that you were neither loyal to me, nor obedient to my wishes. That only made me want you more." Jareth paused, moving forward to open a door by Sarah's elbow. "Your room."
Sarah was grinding her teeth, breathing hard in an attempt to keep her temper. He really had planned it all. He'd planned from the beginning to carry her off.
"You said when you first saw me... in Toby's room. You decided then you were going to take me? Then why offer me your... your cheap imitations of dreams? Why not just give Toby back then?"
Jareth blinked at her angry tone, obviously confused at her reaction to his confession. After a moment, he shook his head, his blond hair sliding like silk over his strong shoulders before settling again. "No, Sarah. I saw you before I appeared in Toby's room."
If Jareth had known Sarah better, he would have seen the dangerous flare in her eyes. Students at her high school had learned to run when Sarah's eyes got that particular glint in them, since it usually meant she was about to heap verbal abuse onto someone.
"Before Toby's room?" Sarah repeated, her voice painfully calm and even--another warning that she was getting dangerously close to complete meltdown.
"I've watched you for years, Sarah." Jareth's eyes got a far-off look in them, as if he were remembering. "I can still remember the first time I saw you. You don't remember it of course--I blocked it from your memory years ago." Sarah's spine went ramrod straight, and her shoulders pulled back. "You were only five years old, and you invoked my power. You had a stuffed bear, if I remember right, and you were asking me in a small, piping voice to take it from you. Your shining innocence captivated me. I knew then that I needed only wait until you were old enough to take you, give you the life you deserve. I've watched you since then, Sarah... eleven years of watching you grow, becoming more beautiful and ethereal every day. Sometimes, it seemed watching you was all that kept me sane down here, in this dark, decaying world."
That was it. She'd had it. The idea of him watching her all the time was what pushed her over the proverbial edge.
Has he been watching me constantly, or on and off? Has he seen me shower? she thought, resentful anger making her cheeks flame. He'd been... stalking her. Following her. Watching her like some sort of deviant pervert.
"I'm glad you've enjoyed the last eleven years of watching me, Jareth," Sarah said, her voice calm. She reached up, grabbing the edge of her open door, stepping past it, into the room. "Because you are never seeing me again!" She slammed the door with all the force she could muster, then threw herself onto the bed, trembling with fury.