Jareth stood outside the closed door a moment in shock, then his features twisted into a malicious, nasty expression, and he raised his hand to destroy the door, ready to scare her into submission. It was his common sense that stopped him mid-tantrum though, pulling the magick back, leaving his fingertips tingling and bereft.
You've just given her some rather momentous news, Jareth thought, lowering his shaking hand to his side. She took it well, considering. How did you expect her to take it, after all?
Jareth sighed, rubbing his hands over his face wearily, before turning and walking down a short corridor. He glided down the staircase, then walked into his throne room, the castle molding itself to take him directly where he wanted to go. The goblins, sensing that Jareth had left the throne room, had all returned. Few looked up when he entered, entranced in their small, idiotic pastimes. He stalked over to his throne, and threw himself into it, propping his calves onto one of the arms. He hadn't really expected Sarah to give in without a fight. He probably wouldn't have enjoyed it if she had. But her rejection of his honesty hurt him. It left him feeling sick and anxious, something he couldn't remember feeling for years.
"Damn it," he muttered, leaning his head back, stretching the suddenly tight muscles in his neck. He hadn't expected so much trouble with Sarah. He hadn't fooled himself into thinking it would be easy to win her over, but he had hoped he wouldn't have to be patient--he was not a patient man.
You should be, a voice in his head told him, that nagging voice that often made the most sense when he was in a temper. You've been alive for how long now? What's a few more years on top of the hundreds you've already passed through?
"Shut up," he muttered, dark brows drawing together.
"What?" A goblin looked up from the entrancing pastime of pushing small stones back and forth. Jareth glared at it until it quelled, and returned to its rocks.
Of course, that nagging voice of his conscience was right--he should be patient. He'd waited eleven years for Sarah to call on him again, as he'd known she would.
Yes, I implanted that suggestion well, Jareth thought with a self-satisfied smirk. And the innocent mind of five-year-old Sarah had been so easy to implant a suggestion in.
Jareth felt a warm, glowing ache in his chest as he remembered her then. The sun had been shining on her dark hair, bringing out the highlights, making it glow with an ethereal light. Her gray eyes had been so trusting, her smile enchanting. She'd lifted her stuffed bear toward him in minuscule fists, proclaiming in her small voice, "I wanted to give him to you."
Jareth groaned. He'd known then that he had to have her. She was like... sunlight. The shining sunlight of a fresh morning, melting the shadows out of his dark soul. But even an immortal like he knew that the world--both magickal and mundane--would not accept his love of the child. He would have to wait, be patient, until she had grown.
He had taken the doll that day, held it in his hands, infusing it with a magick of its own. It was a slow-acting magick that would stay with Sarah for years to come, slowly influencing her thoughts and decisions.
"What is his name?" Jareth had asked her, clasping the stuffed bear in his palms, crouching to peer at her, his fingers gently tingling as he forced the magick into the very molecules that held the bear together.
"Lancelot," the young Sarah had proclaimed proudly, pronouncing the name with a practiced ease.
"I won't take Lancelot with me today, Sarah. But I will see you again." Jareth had handed the bear back to her, and she had cuddled it warmly, smiling. He'd reached out, touching her temple fleetingly, taking only a moment to look deep into her eyes, speaking without words, sending the words directly into her young mind, carefully tucking it into the very folds of her brain.
You will call on me again, Sarah. Many years from now, when you are frustrated with the world and need magick in your life again, you will call on me, and I will come.
He had departed then, fading slowly, watching the girl as she held her bear in her arms, her chin tucked onto its head, the magick already infusing her.
Now, he sat in his throne room, that innocent young girl grown into a young woman who resided only a short walk away from him. And he couldn't do anything about it, because she was as likely to break his aquiline nose as invite him into her heart.
You've really made a balls up of this, Jareth, he thought, stretching, repositioning himself on his throne. You just couldn't resist trying to impress her with your power, could you? You had to try to be all that you thought she wanted--you fool. You unbelievable, egotistical fool. With the practiced ease of a conjurer, he drew a crystal out of the air, holding it gently in a gloved hand, picturing Sarah. After a moment, the crystal shimmered, colors appearing and solidifying, drawing themselves into an image of Sarah in her room. She was crouched on her bed, her face streaked and shining with tears, her huge, gray eyes haunted.
How many times had he watched her through his crystals as she lived her life on Earth, existing in the sunlight while he hid in shadows? How often had he felt this same growing burn in his chest as he saw her in pain? He frowned, realizing that for once he had only himself to hate for causing her pain. This was no unkind word from a step-mother, or the teasing of an impolite youth. He had caused these tears.
The crystal shattered in his hand as his concentration broke, dissolving into shimmering points of light that drifted in the air like autumn leaves before vanishing. Jareth stood, meaning to go to her room, apologize to her. He stepped off his dais, then stopped, realizing that a visit from him was the last thing she needed right then.
Jareth felt jangly with the anger in him, and shifted from foot to foot for a moment, before deciding to lose himself in the castle for awhile. It had been awhile since he'd been able to lose himself, since the castle was so willing to twist itself for him now. He felt confident if he just kept walking, though, he would be able to find one of the darkest corridors and stay there until his temper was under control. At the moment, kicking goblins and tormenting the creatures in the Labyrinth--his usual methods of temper control--would be as ineffectual as putting a salve on the stump of a severed arm.
With a quick mental twist, Jareth changed his clothes, the old ones dissolving into the new ones like frost melting and leaving behind grass. The new clothes were entirely black--a color that matched his mood perfectly--and had a long cape, a dramatic touch by which Jareth felt comforted slightly. He strode out of his throne room, the cape flapping behind him like the single wing of a wounded bird.
The mirror gave Sarah a bleak picture of herself--her eyes had dark shadows under them, and her hair had grown slightly tangled. Her face looked pale, almost like a wraith.
I hardly even noticed the passage of time, she thought, rubbing at her cheeks to try and get some color back in them. They remained stubbornly pale, and she pinched them spitefully. They blushed after the abuse, and she nodded. If it hadn't been for the candles, I don't know if I would have even gotten up. At that moment, her stomach let loose a long, drawn out grumble.
"Oh!" Sarah said, startled by the noise in the silence of her room. "I guess YOU'VE noticed time passing. I hardly ate anything for breakfast, and it must be well past supper time now." Her stomach responded with another gurgling snarl, and Sarah sighed. "Since I'm going to be here awhile, I guess I should make up with Jareth." She frowned. "Even if he is a stalking, sick devil of a person."
Sarah glanced around the vanity table--laden with far too many brushes, combs, hair pins, and shimmering, carefully molded cut-crystal bottles of perfume for her to use even if she stayed a million years in the castle (But I won't think about that, she told herself firmly). Eventually she settled on the least ornate brush on the table, drawing it through her dark hair until it laid obediently flat. She replaced the brush, and went to the door. She paused with her hand on the knob, trying to remember what Jareth had said about the castle.
Anything in the castle is easily found if you just concentrate on it... the castle will mold itself to suit you.
"Okay," Sarah said, straightening her back, and addressing the door as if it were listening, unsure of exactly how a magick castle was supposed to be handled. "I want to go to Jareth." She paused, then added, "Please." With that said she opened the door and stepped out, shutting the door behind her. On second thought, she decided suddenly, reaching back to the door, I'd better leave it cracked in case I get lost and have to find it again.
As it turned out, she needn't have bothered. The hallway, which had been full of doors and so long that the ends faded into a blur when she'd first seen it was now short and lead only to the right. To her left was a wall with an elaborate sconce on it. Sarah shrugged, and headed right. Almost immediately, the hall turned, leading to a short stair, which led to another hallway, and finally an arched doorway. There was no door, and Sarah was unsure whether to knock or not.
Do you knock on doorways without doors in them? she wondered, before finally deciding a simple "hello" would work just as well.
"Hello? Jareth?"
There was a pause, then the shadows in the doorway seemed to part, revealing a glimmer of golden hair. Jareth stepped out of the doorway, and Sarah retreated back a few steps. He stopped just out of the doorway, and Sarah had to concentrate to keep him in focus--his all-black outfit embraced him as exactly as the shadows behind him, and he seemed to melt into them. If not for his pale face and shimmering hair, she wouldn't have been able to see him at all.
"I uh... I was wondering if it were too late for supper," Sarah said finally after the silence between Jareth and her had grown into a living thing.
"Too late?" Jareth's eyes darkened faintly. "For so many things, I think it may be. But for supper, no. Follow me."
He did not offer her his arm this time, and Sarah felt a stab of annoyance. Aren't I a princess? she wondered, pressing her lips. She scurried after him, then caught up and put her fingertips gently on his elbow without invitation, refusing to follow behind him like a cringing dog. He glanced down at her quickly, eyes narrowing in confusion. Then he lifted and crooked his arm, making it easier for her to hold onto it. They walked along like that in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Jareth spoke, his musical voice floating in the quiet hallway.
"I didn't mean to offend you earlier."
"I over-reacted," Sarah replied with forced brightness. Please, please, don't talk about it, she added in her mind, her jaw tightening. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. Please, just don't...
"I probably should have waited awhile before bringing it up. I shouldn't have thrust it onto you your first day here."
"That's okay," Sarah responded automatically. "Forgive and forget."
"I admit my confession was a bit to take in. I didn't mean to shock you with it. I just wanted to be truthful with you, Sarah."
"Oh, that does it," Sarah muttered, jerking her hand from his arm. "You wanted to be truthful with me? I guess I should have expected that from someone who steals babies and cheats at his own game."
Jareth snapped a sharp look at her, his dark brows falling over his eyes like thunderheads gathering over a pristine lake. "I am trying to be civil, Sarah. You could try it, too."
"Damnit, Jareth, why do we even have to talk? Why can't we just... just walk? I just want to eat and go to bed. I don't want to have any heartfelt discussions, or work out all the little problems that make you like you are."
"That make me like what?" His voice was empty, cold.
"What?" Sarah asked, glancing up at him, her face annoyed.
"The little problems that make me like I am. Make me like what?"
Sarah waved a hand at him as if she were trying to chase off an annoying gnat. "Like this. Brooding, sneaking, all frowning and unhappy."
A smile glittered over Jareth's face, too bright and obviously forced. Sarah felt taken aback; it was so hard to keep up with his wild mood swings.
"Who says I'm unhappy, Sarah?" His voice was soft, dangerous, clashing with the bright smile.
"You said yourself you were lonely," Sarah snapped.
The smile stretched, becoming something very like a snarl as his jaw clenched. "Then I lied. Wouldn't that be in keeping with my character?"
He didn't wait for a reply, turning and leaving her, his cape slapping against the hem of her dress.
"Your supper will be in your room," he said over his shoulder, not even turning to give her a final glance. "And I will see you in the morning."
Then Sarah was alone in the hallway, left with her smarting pride.