I could almost get used to this, Sarah thought languidly the next morning. Lunch had gone well the day before, and after lunch Jareth had left her alone so that she could visit Sir Didymus. She'd been as charmed as ever by his dear manners, although Ambrosius had made her long for her own English sheep dog, Merlin.
Sarah forced that thought out of her mind and tried to return to the languid, relaxed feelings she'd been enjoying only moments before. Unfortunately, she could not bring herself into the same mood, and sighed, opening her eyes and sitting up, water sluicing down her back. She was in the huge bath that sat in a tidy watercloset just off of her room--a watercloset she'd noticed that morning when wishing for one. She'd decided on taking a calming bath before she went down for breakfast that morning, and when she searched her room, she'd found the watercloset tucked against the far wall, which was usually dark with shadows, which made it understandable how she'd missed seeing the door before. It had been several days since her last shower back on Earth, and Sarah was convinced she was become offensive, even if Jareth never said anything.
Of course, living around goblins all the time would ruin anyone's sense of smell, Sarah thought wryly, and gave herself one last scrubbing with the bar of floral scented soap that rested next to the tub. She stood, up-ending a large jug of warm water over her head to wash the remaining soap off of herself, then grabbed a huge towel from a chair near the bath, wrapping it around herself.
The castle seems to be over-compensating sometimes, Sarah thought as she walked from the watercloset. The bathtub is the size of a Jacuzzi, and the towels are big enough to be blankets. Her eyes strayed to her vanity table, and she grinned. And I have twenty-seven different brushes and combs when all I really need is one brush and one good, sturdy comb. I wonder why it does that? Is it trying to impress me?
"You could impress me much more by sending a unicorn trotting through my room, followed by a trail of golden mice carrying magick rings in their mouths," Sarah said, smirking at her reflection in the mirror. In the watercloset, she heard a sibilance very much like the sound of horse hooves and mice. "Oh! No, I didn't mean that! I was being sarcastic!" Immediately the noise ceased, and Sarah heaved a sigh of relief, wondering what she would have done had a unicorn and several thousand mice come trotting into her bedroom while she stood in a huge bath towel.
I probably would have embarrassed myself by running screaming through the castle in nothing but a towel. That would probably give Jareth a good laugh. He could certainly use one. Sarah frowned, toweling her hair viciously. Jareth always seemed so unhappy and moody around her. She could understand him being upset at her unwillingness to stay, but she'd never told him she wouldn't stay. Since she'd made up her mind to wait for his attention to drift, she'd been nothing but good-natured. She hadn't said a single cross word to him all day yesterday, and there had been times she'd most definitely wanted to.
"I'm the only one who should be upset around here," Sarah grumbled, slipping into the underwear she'd worn for the last four days, ever since she'd been transported to the Labyrinth. Like her dress, the undergarments stayed perfectly clean and serviceable, as if they'd never been worn.
"And where is my dress?" Sarah said suddenly, turning around, her damp hair sliding over her back like a cool, dark cape. Her dress was not resting demurely over the back of her chair, like it always did. Instead, a completely ridiculous maroon gown was in its place. It had an immodestly low bodice, and there was a crusting of rubies over the waist. As if aware of her attention, the dress made a little flurry of motion, as if a breeze had half-lifted it from the chair before resettling it. Strangely enough, the motion seemed a little pompas, as if the dress was aware of how beautifully made it was.
"No. No, I am not wearing that. Look at the collar! What would Jareth think?" Sarah backed away from the dress, as if it meant her harm. "He'd think I was trying to seduce him. No. I want my dress back, and I want it back now. I'm going to turn my back, and when I turn back around, that will be gone and my dress will be back." Sarah turned, shut her eyes for a moment, then turned back to face the chair before her vanity. The maroon dress was still there, but now her loafers were missing, and dainty maroon shoes with rubies encrusting them shone in their place.
"Okay, this is getting totally ridiculous. I want my dress back. Really. This is insulting. I am not going to wear that." Once again, she turned her back. She stared at the far wall for a count of sixty, humming in case the magick didn't want her to hear it at work. When she turned again, the dress and shoes remained. They trembled as she looked at them, like a nervous lapdog. Sarah's nostrils flared, then suddenly she caught sight of herself in the vanity mirror.
"That is enough!" The words were a furious shout, and as she shouted she raised her hands to grab at her hair. While she had been counting, the wet hair had been stealthily lifted off her back and done up in an impressive twist with ruby-covered clips and pins. She jerked at the pins and clips, scattering them around her room. To her annoyance, they skittered across the floor toward her as soon as they touched down, and waited around her feet patiently.
"Okay, fine! You want to be like that?" Sarah was shouting at the ceiling now, for lack of a better place to aim her fury. "Fine! Then I'm not leaving!" With that said, she 'humphed' down onto her bed, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around her knees. She stayed like that for an unknown amount of time, glaring at the dress, shoes and hairpins angrily, waiting for them to take themselves back to the wardrobe--which is where she was sure they had come from--and bring her own dress and loafers back again.
Finally, as Sarah's stomach began to rumble impatiently for breakfast, she heard a knock at her door.
"Sarah?" His voice was muffled, but Sarah could clearly hear the confusion in Jareth's voice just the same. "Are you awake?"
"Yes, I'm awake," she called back, keeping her eyes locked on the ridiculous clothing in case the hairpins should try to sneak into her hair again.
"Are you all right?" There was alarm in his voice now, and the door opened fractionally.
"I'm fine. I'm just angry."
The door opened further, and Jareth peeked in carefully, not quite able to see her. "Did I do something?"
"No, it's not you," Sarah said, sighing and lifting her head from her knees, still keeping them locked to her chest with her arms.
"Oh." The door opened further and Jareth stepped in, then froze. He stared at her a long moment, then cleared his throat, took a step outside her room, speaking from the hallway. "What is it, then?"
"They took my dress and they won't give it back!"
"They?"
"They!" Sarah repeated, stomping over to her vanity and grabbing the maroon dress. She flung it out the open door into the hallway, then realized that somehow the ridiculous slippers had snuck onto her feet. She stood on one foot, snatched a shoe off, and flung it out her door. The other followed a moment later, clattering loudly against the wall. "The dress and shoes and a million stupid, stupid hairpins!"
"Oh." There was a pause, then Jareth spoke carefully. "It's a well-made dress."
"It's not my dress."
Another pause. "The color would look good on you."
"It's not. My. Dress."
Another pause, longer. Finally, Jareth muttered something below his breath. Instantly, the wardrobe doors flung themselves open and her own white dress and plain brown loafers came fluttering across the room to land neatly on the bed beside her. Sarah jerked the dress over her head quickly, then slipped her feet into the loafers. Satisfied, she stepped out into the hall. Jareth still held the maroon gown in his arms like a broken dove, and the shoes had tumbled in an ungainly heap outside her door. Sarah gave the shoes a spiteful little kick, then sighed.
"Sorry. It's just... well, my dress is all I have left of home. I'm not ready to give it up yet." Then, without giving him a chance to reply, Sarah snatched the dress and tossed it onto the stones next to the shoes. "Ready for breakfast?"
Jareth glanced almost apologetically at the dress and shoes, then extended his arm for Sarah to catch. She did, and they headed for the dining hall.
Breakfast was relaxingly without incident after the fight with the dress, and Sarah ate happily, slowly relaxing. The food, as always, was delicious and in amounts far too huge for her to consume. As always, Jareth sat at the head of the table, sipping the dark balais from his elaborately carved goblet. As Sarah slowly finished the last few lingering bites of a dark, meaty porridge, she sighed and sat back.
"How can you not eat this?" Sarah said, gesturing at the table. "There are so many things... and I always want to try them all, but seem to run out of room at every meal before I can."
"I've just gotten used to drinking the balais only," Jareth responded softly, his voice warm and soothing, like a loving hand stroked over the back of a purring cat.
"I'm curious about that, too," Sarah said, pushing her chair back and rising. She went over and crouched next to Jareth, her chin on level with the arm of his chair. "May I have a taste?"
There was a pause, then slowly Jareth turned toward her and lowered the goblet, pressing the rim to her lips. He tilted the cup, and Sarah took a slow sip. Her eyes widened, and he took the glass back quickly.
"You don't like it?" he asked, brows raising.
"No! No, it's..." Sarah stopped, struggling for a description. It was warm, like a delicious cup of tea on a chilly, rainy evening, but also cooling, like a tall glass of lemonade and ice on a hot summer afternoon. It was sweeter than the smell of roses in the spring, but also biting like a sour candy. It tasted like a breeze felt on a still, muggy evening, and had the bite of the first snowstorm in winter. "It's... wow."
Jareth smirked, putting the glass down. "Yes, that was my reaction the first time I tried it, too. Ah, no, one sip is enough," he said, as she stood and reached for the glass. "You've eaten a full meal. Too much balais will make you sick after that much food."
"But it's just a drink," Sarah said stubbornly, pouting faintly.
"You know it's not," Jareth responded, his lips tightening slightly. "It's a full meal to itself. You'll cause yourself to get truly sick if you keep insisting on it. I know--I made myself sick more than once when I first began drinking the balais. It is a magick unto itself, Sarah. I cannot control the magick of the balais in myself, let alone in you." When Sarah continued to pout and frown at him like a spoiled child, he rose from his chair slowly, returning her frown. "Sarah, you will have to learn the rules of the magick here. This is your home now."
"Not forever," Sarah responded suddenly, not meaning to say it out loud.
"Yes, Sarah, forever." Jareth's voice was becoming stern, the words clipped and sharp. "You made a bargain with the magick, and you cannot break that now. It is not like a dress you can send away, Sarah, or a path you can twist to your own liking."
"You can't keep me here forever!" Sarah snapped, her face flushing, her tone flaring to match Jareth's. "Eventually, you'll have to send me home! Home, to my family!"
"This. Is. Your. Home." Jareth's beautiful face had gone deadly white in his fury, and his mismatched eyes glittered brightly.
"No, it isn't!" Sarah snapped, and spun to leave.
"Sarah. You are not leaving."
"I am leaving. Maybe not the Underground--not yet. But I am leaving this dining hall, and I am leaving your company!" She strode away, heading purposefully toward the arched doorway.
"We aren't finished," Jareth replied, moving after her.
"Yes, we are!" Sarah shouted, spinning to face him, flinging to words at him with a fury she wished she could inflict physically. As her shout echoed in the huge dining hall, a chair tipped directly into Jareth's path, causing him to stumble.
Did I do that? Sarah wondered dazedly as Jareth regained his balance.
"That was cruel, Sarah, and I wouldn't do that again if I were you." Jareth's voice was calm, but a faint flush was moving up his throat, betraying his anger.
"Oh, no?" Sarah replied, concentrating on the chair nearest him. The chair jiggled uncertainly, then scooted back an inch, then flung itself onto the floor next to its mate.
"Sarah!" It was a roar, and Sarah spun, rushing away. She heard Jareth's footsteps pursuing, and she took off running full speed, her loafered feet slapping the stones as she ran for the front door.
"Leave me alone, Jareth! I don't want to see you right now!" The front doors burst open as if shoved by some great beast, and Sarah rushed through.
The Labyrinth, she thought. I'll wander the Labyrinth until I can calm down.
"Sarah!" His voice was fading behind her. He could catch her easily, and Sarah knew it. Wisely, he was choosing to let her go.
Good, Sarah thought furiously, flinging herself through an opening into the winding Labyrinth. I don't want to see him. I hate him. I hate him!