Chapter Two
Tara soon found that cooperation bought her quite a bit of freedom around the castle. The Goblins, though disgusting, did not approach her, so she was not bothered. Having not been granted another set of clothing yet, she wandered about comfortably in the sweeping back silk skirt (though, from sleeping in it, it was wrinkled) and a fitted black tank top. She'd removed her jewelry, though, and was holding it in her hand, a thin strip of leather dangling out, it's dark brown contrasting against the almost white of her knuckles. If she opened her hand, she'd doubtless find the imprint of the dragon necklace in her palm.
How could she -do- this! She'd wished herself, and her beloved niece away! Not, of course, that she'd mentioned Xanthe in her prayer... she probably dragged her along for the ride. Subconciously, of course.
She didn't mind being in the situation by herself, though she'd most certainly miss her group of friends, and had she not taken Tracey, Tracey as well. It was the fact that Tracey deserved more-- Better-- than to be the slave of a Goblin King.
A sexy Goblin King at that.
She shuddered to think of what he might do to the child, if the Labyrinth had become that much darker than it had been in the movie.
Her solution was simple: She had to find Tracey, and find a way to get her back to her grandmother in the above ground, and then come back-- hopefully before the king knew she was gone, though, she knew that wasn't likely to happen. Either way she'd have to deal with the rage of the Goblin King, and she knew that wouldn't be a pretty sight. How would she get the child back, anyway? Say, "I wish the lord of the above ground would take you away?" She doubted -that- would work.
Maybe, if she was a very, very, very good little girl, Jareth would allow her that royalty.
Doubtful.
She frowned as she found herself lost in a very large castle, judging from the stairs she'd climbed, about level twenty seven. She'd hoped Xanthe would be at the very top, but the very top was much higher than it seemed.
Nothing was as it seemed in the Labyrinth.
She groaned quietly, her back hitting the wall, and she slid to a sitting position, crossing her legs beneath her midnight skirt. "Now what?" She asked herself out loud. The corridor was completely empty, now. "I'm lost in the castle of the Goblin king, I can't find my niece, I've been wearing the same clothes for two days, I'm tired, and there are no computers around here." She sighed, letting her head hit the wall behind me, "And I have to figure out how to get my niece -out- of here. Wow, that one'll be hard..."
"Seems you have quite the dilema." Spoke a smooth, dark voice, "Odd how you always collapse in my presense..."
Tara rocketed to her feet, looking around for the sourse of the sound, but she saw nothing, only the empty hall, and the shadows. "Where are you!" She shouted boldly, moving out of the shadow she herself had taken shelter in.
She felt him take a firm grasp on her wrist, and he yanked her back into the shadows. She could see nothing still, but she felt his scalding warmth against the entirity of her front. He'd crushed her against him.
"Here." He spoke hotly into her ear, letting one arm snake itself around her waist. He half pulled his upper body away from her to put his hand between them. A small, crystal orb appeared in the restess of his palm, giving off a faint light. It was filled with glitter.
"Watch." He hissed.
The glitter within the sphere rested in the bottom, making room for an image. It was the image of her niece, playing happily with two Goblins. She had forced barbies into each of their hands, and was running around a humongous Barbie house to place her own barbies. She snatched one she'd given to a goblin back, to set that one, and all the goblin did was stare at her with wide eyes as she ran about, giggling.
The crystal bubble popped.
In the faint burst of light, she could see the small, contented smile that played across his lips. He knew he had her in the palm of his hand.
Tara had the feeling she should thank the Goblin king for enforcing the fact, to her, that the child was alright. For letting her know that Xanthe was happy, and not locked up in some oubliette crying her aunts name to the heavens.
But the words got caught in her throat. How -dare- he stand there, and tease her like this! How -dare- he come out of nowhere with the heat of candle wax, hold her so close, breathe her in as she couldn't help but breathe in his strong aroma of ginger and magic? How could he tempt her so coldly, whisper in her ear with her waist pressed against his, all the while flashing pictures of Xanthe across her gaze?
What was wrong with this picture?
Suddenly, in an act she wagered must have startled the pompous king, she struggled to untangle herself, barking out a shrill, "Let me -go-!" Adding only in her mind, '-I won't be your puppet! I can't be a puppet! I'm not just some wooden marienette for you to have your fun with!-'
He slammed her easily against the near wall, pressing his body stiffly against hers, holding his gaze so closely to hers she could almost see the color of his eyes, filled with rage. She halted her movements, finding that it wasn't helping any, and forced herself to be content with glaring up at him. She let out a quiet yelp as his hands found a place under her arms, and he lifted her up so her eyes were level with his, propping a knee between her legs to keep her there as he let his hands dropped, and she took in a choked gasp, trying despirately not to squirm from the pressure on the choice point-- to squirm would be to fall, and to fall meant to meet with pain, which she was so terrified of.
"What was that?" He snarled, "-Pet-? I don't think I heard you correctly." His voice was so dark, and aggrivatingly calm-- maybe even amused.
She seized a hold of his shoulders to better balance herself, and he allowed her to. Finding that that wasn't working very well (due to the jewelry still in her hand), she just went ahead and clung to his neck, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," She whimpered over, and over again, trying to calm the rage that she couldn't feel from his voice.
"Are you?" He pressed her harder against the wall, so she was crushed between him, and it, and she whimpered at the change between her legs, becoming steadily more aggrivated as the area began to heat up longingly.
She nodded against his neck, "I'll be good." She begged, "Please don't hurt me! I'll be good..."
"You do fear that, don't you." He purred gently in her ear, "Pain." He pulled his head a little away from her, brushing his fingertips over the no longer fresh bandaging over her head, "And yet you know it so well..." His gaze trailed down her forehead to the terrified pools of green beneath. "No, pet. That is one thing that I will promise you." She found herself unintentionally leaning toward him, shifting the pressure. "I will never harm you."
He dropped the knee from under her, earning a gasp from her as he took her waist with his hands instead. Holding her helplessly before him, he pressed his lips to hers demandingly, before biting lightly on the bottom one to request entrance. She obliged willingly, allowing him to explore her dizzyingly as his hands against her waist turned into one arm wrapped about her, and the other tangling itself into her hair.
Once she'd been set down, she could hardly believe what had just happened, though, her lips were still swollen, and throbbing. Her breaths were shallow, short, as she stared in wonder at him, still holding her. It wasn't her first kiss, she'd kissed plenty of people before.
But they were never, -never- like that.
"Lets take care of the next problem, shall we?" He hissed as if they hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. She blinked a couple of times, and then a wave of guilt hit her. Hadn't she been able to return the effect? Was she really that unimpressive? She looked to the floor as he began to walk off. He turned, looked at her for a couple of seconds, and came back, slipping his arm around her waist, warming her as if a wave of boiling water had just hit her, he guided her away from the wall.
"You should sleep." He stated suddenly, "Weariness does not become you."
Tara paused to stare at him for a moment, "But I've just slept."
She turned toward a window to reconfirm the fact to herself, but her jaw dropped to find that the moon instead of the artificial sun was out. She blinked to clear her eyes. No, she wasn't mistaken. It was night-- likely around midnight.
How long had she been lost?
As he led her gently toward the room he'd granted her, she walked as if in a daze, not really seeing the goblins pass on either side of them, not seeing the beautifully wicked goblin turning down her sheets.
Sleep sounded heavenly to her, now.
So, the submissive heroine slept, and she slept well for the first hour or so. Jareth sat in the rocking chair hidden within the shadows, watching her intently, seeing to it that no foul dreams came to his sleeping beauty. As long as she obeyed him, he would do this for her, though, it would make him weary during his days of kingship. He felt this small reward worth the sacrifice.
But after that hour the king of Goblins and Fantasies slipped into powerless slumber, and his beloved pet was thrown to the wolves.
The wolf of this night was a dream of her beloved, being taunted by demonic looking creatures, who prodded her repeatedly with sticks. She could tell that said creatures were not Goblins, for even as the crude creatures they were, they held a certain degree of loveability to them. These creatures were just black, and hard. Evil through and through, and cruel to the core. Tara wished she could identify the beasts, and therefor shelter her Xanthe from them-- as her dreams often came true-- but she could not recognize them.
But when she walked into the dream she knew she had to figure out what was going on. She was chained, hands and feet, and in what would be a skimpy white silk nightgown if it wasn't five sizes too big for her. There were black circles under her eyes. She looked broken.
"Tara."
She groaned, scanning the dream for the one who was calling with that smooth, heavensent voice.
"Tara." It pressed, louder this time. It almost sounded urgent. She wanted to get to it so badly. Maybe it would rescue her from these horrors she called dreams.
"Tara!"
Her eyes snapped open, and in the twilight she saw the face of her savior above her, the face of the king of the Goblins, the face of Jareth. He looked concerned, stroking her forehead with his thumb. She wanted to cling-- just wrap her arms around him and never let go, but she refused.
"Good morning..."
He chuckled lowly, relief washing over him. "Not quite."
"Oh..." She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to keep all signs of what she was feeling under wraps. The last thing she needed was for him to start getting possessive-- especially now, while she wanted him to so badly. She doubted she would be able to refuse him, and to give herself up... so entirely... so willingly... would be a betrayal to the one she held dearest.
No, she would wait. Do whatever she had to do to rescue the child, and then, when she was safe, she would give herself up. As things were, the stakes were too high. She would not risk harm to Xanthe-- she never would have.
"Did you have a nightmare?" He asked smoothly. She felt him slip into her bed, and a lump hardened in her throat.
"...Yes." She wanted so badly to turn into him, to explain everything she'd ever dreamed, and have it explained to her by the only one who could possibly get it through that they were just dreams, just nightmares, that it didn't mean anything.
Of course, then, there -was- her stubborn side, as well, that told her to get out of the bed, run for the door, and make a run for her niece. Get her out of that hell hole, and get herself out as well, just to spite the bastard king.
To spite the bastard king, whether he was truly such a bastard or not.
In any case, her limbs refused to move. She had no choice but to be held as he wrapped his arms gently around her, easing her into his embrace.
"The dream's over." He whispered softly into her ear, "Go back to sleep..."
Tara assumed that that was when she fell asleep. She couldn't remember anything past then, but she awoke alone in the bed. Calm. It was apparent that after that point in time she slept reletively well. She was fully rested, and she artificial sun was just rising.
With uncharacteristic cheerfulness she sat up, and stretched, reaching for the ceiling with a sigh before she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She glanced toward the window, listening to the birds chirp merrily before she walked over to the closet. She frowned to find that there was only one dress... a simple, but pretty maroon one that had a box cut neck that came a little lower than she was generally comfortable with. The gown was hemmed with golden threads, the accent to be picked up by the necklace that hung off of the hanger-- a black velvet choker, with a golden pendant that showed two dragons, meeting at the snout, and with tails that crossed to form the restess of a smooth red stone. On the floor was a pair of comfortable looking leather boots, that came down in a V at the front.
Shrugging a little, she took the hanger out of the closet and lay the garment across the bed, setting the boots similarly beside it, before walking through the third door in her room, to where the bathroom was. With the dull calm of morning, she knelt beside the claw footed tub, and twisted on the water before closing the door, and bathing.
She dressed on her own, feverishly now that she'd finally woken up all the way, and dropped the necklace on the bed after struggling with it. She yanked on the boots, and stormed out of the room, blinking to find that three goblins had been trying, unsuccessfully, to spy on her.
"Can I help you?" She demanded in irritation as the tower of them fell backwards, and shattered. Pity could not reach her as two of them scuttled, terrified, backwards. The third just stood there, dumbfounded as he stared at her.
"She's not wearing the amulet." One of the goblins commented with interest as she pushed her long midnight hair out of her face.
"You're right! She's not!" A second goblin marveled, "The king will not be pleased!
"No! Not pleased at all!" The first one responded with a bit of laughter.
"Oh, whatever..." Tara sighed, moving gracefully down the hallway. She made it the rest of the way to the diningroom without confrontation, but sitting in the dining room-- waiting for her, apparently-- was Jareth, a baby on his lap. She found it a little odd that her could terrify so many goblins, but to the baby he was just a gentle man with poofy hair and a wierd voice.
"It isn't nice to stare, Tara." He informed her, waking her from her thoughts. She gasped, realizing that she had, indeed been staring, but coughed a couple of times to cover the coughing.
"Back to stealing babies, Jareth?" She snarled venomously. With her rest, her resolve had come back full force. She stood a little taller as he cast an annoyed look up at her, before he turned. "STOGDEM!" He roared, causing Tara to back up in sudden terror. Maybe she shouldn't have spoken up so? Either way, what's said is said-- isn't that what the moral of the movie had been? She glanced over as the short, plump goblin approached.
"Stongblende..." He corrected quietly.
"Take the infant to the nursery." Jareth demanded, nearly dropping the baby into the goblins stubby arms.
"Yes, master." He turned, and left with the child.
It was in the same instant that Tara found herself pressed up against a wall yet again, a little off the ground, yet again, so Jareth was staring levelly into her eyes. She gulped at the sight of the fire that raged within his dismal eyes, setting them alight. It was a different look from before, not filled with rage so much as with annoyance, and triumph. Rage coursed through every fiber of her being, and she clung to that rage despirately, afraid of what whould happen if she didn't.
"You should hold your tongue." He stated casually, almost conversationally.
"Take me to Xanthe." Tara demanded, but her voice didn't sound nearly as strong as she had hoped it would. It mirrored the conflicting emotions within her perfectly.
He laughed quietly, shaking his head at her. "In time." He stated with a wolfish grin, "You'll see your dear niece in time. When you don't have any intentions of stealing her back to the above--" He paused, his mood darkening as his gaze brushed over her neck, "You're not wearing the amulet."
Authors Notes: This is when I say: I'm better than you! Nyah nyah!
Ok... just kidding... but in all reality, I do get to say: The Labyrinth and therefore Jareth don't belong to me, but Tara does!
