Chapter Four
Jareth was going mad, searching the castle for his newest servant. Many goblins felt his wrath during this search, and eventually, most just decided not to cross him. The only ones that so much as dared look at him during his passings were the upper members of his council, and even they did not speak unless spoken to.
"Damien!" He roared as he returned to the throne room in which they had had their argument, and Tara had made the mistake of overpowering him. "Damien!" He roared again as he threw himself down in his throne, hand splayed over his chin in careful contemplation.
"Yes your highness?" Asked a humble, younger fey as he rushed into the room, "What is it, my lord?"
"Track her down." He demanded, half turning to bore into the fey with his mismatched gaze, "I don't care how you have to do it, but track her -down-. I -will- not allow those blasted elves to have that girl! Their ultimate weapon! It is simply unacceptable!"
Although the young fey had his suspicions that his king hadn't revealed his full reasons for wanting the girl back, he dared not question, nevermind disobey. He flew out of the throne room like a hawk rising into flight, and moved gracefully for the library. He didn't even notice as the goblins fled from his path. As he reached the library, the doors slammed shut behind him, and as he sat, a book flew out of the book case toward him. He snatched it out of the air with ease, and flipped it to the correct page. For perhaps hours, he stared down onto the picture.
Tara, which was of no surprise to her secret watcher, was fighting, still, against the elf that dragged her as if on display throughout the distractingly bright castle. Other elves stopped to cheer. Some of them threw random eggs at her, although they quickly found the same eggs hurdled back toward them. It wasn't long before Tara was before the one who called himself the king of the elves.
He looked much like the rest of the elves. His long blonde hair did nothing to hide the sharp ears, or the unforgiving bone structure of his face. His blue eyes were cold, and harsh, boring into Taras own with the promise of a punishment far worse than she could imagine if she dared struggle in his presence. His tunic was a bright, vibrant blue, which only served to dull the gray blue of his eyes. His breaches were a darker blue, and his ears were pierced multiple times, silver hoop earings occupying the holes.
"Hello, young Adriana." He hissed, and Tara shuddered, dropping to the floor as she stared up at the horrific creature that called himself an elf. His voice was cold, smooth-- snakelike.
"Why do you people keep calling me that!" She cried, "My name is Tara Elliot! Not Adriana!" She winced silently as a hand was brought sharply across her face. She refused, however, to give the one with the nerve to strike her the pleasure of her pain. She would not show her physical weakness, and her emotional weakness would only be revealed if she had a reason.
"You -are- Adriana DeLearté." The king growled at her as he stood. With a motion, he scattered the elves that had been around her. He took their place, glaring down on her, "You simply do not remember such."
"I think I would know if I was using an alias." Tara snapped, not backing up a bit as the harsh elf came toward her. As he leaned over her, she took the chance of a lifetime, and swiped her own hand across his face, leaving four deep cuts across his cheek. She blinked, and threw herself backwards at the sight, looking at her hand just in time to see her nails retake their original length. She shook her head with confusion, and looked back up at the king as he merely laughed. There was no doubt in her mind that he was mocking her.
"You should be careful of what you do, in this place, young Adriana." He hissed as the wounds quickly healed. He smirked at her as she tried to back up farther, finding herself at the feet of more elves. "I cannot guarenty the patience of my people."
She let out a shriek as the elves came in around her, tearing at her skin, and at her hair. She was panicking, so in this moment, she called out to the only one she thought would ever listen.
"Jareth!" She cried, trying despirately to push the elves away.
Damien sat back, and nodded approvingly. That was what needed to happen-- at least, it sure as hell made -his- job a lot easier. The cry would reach his sovereins ears, and the king would know exactly where to find his damsel in distress. He stood, and made his way out of the library, only to find that it was already too late. Judging by the rush of goblins coming toward him, Jareth had already gone-- rather suddenly, without an explaination, and, knowing his king, dramatically.
One elf yanked her savagely to him, attacking her lips with his, leaving her bruised, and broken. A second elf repeated the act, and then a third, until they were all pulling at her, hurting her.
"Enough!" Roared the voice of Jareth, and the elves scattered, leaving Tara to collapse weakly. They snickered cruelly as she stared at him with wide eyes. She crawled to his feet, and clamped herself around one firm leg, clinging to him for dear life. She'd've done anything he commanded her to, just to try to thank him properly. But judging by the cold glare he sent her before looking away, it wouldn't be enough. He was angry with her.
"Well if it isn't the goblin king." Sneered one elf, swaying as if drunk, "That is one impressive 'personal servant' you've got there, -my lord-" She winced at the term. Was that what she was? Had she more energy, she would have lashed out at the offending elf, but she was bleeding, physically, and emotionally.
She let out a shriek as Jareth seized her arm, and pulled her up, wrapping his own arm around her waist to hold her up. He ignored the elf, turning his attention instead to the king of them.
"You've abused my pet." He snarled, and Tara felt a tinge of guild for allowing herself be taken to this place, and then for making Jareth come here for her. She wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor. Xanthe was slowly fading from her mind.
"She is your pet no longer." Snarled the elven king as he raised his fist, "Guards!"
Before the elves could reach them, Jareth pulled his broken prize tight to him, and they vanished from the throne room in a puff of glitter. She was slightly aware of the sense of vanishing, and then the sense of nonimportance as he let her drop to the floor of his own throne room, striding away from her, and to his stone throne.
She dared not speak, she dared not raise her gaze to meet that of the goblin king. Her body ached, and the wounds still cut through her as if the ones inflicting them had not yet finished their job.
Naturally, it was Jareth who spoke first, "I did not think you foolish enough to escape to the elves." He growled, his voice low, and severe as he glared at her through cold slits of gray, and blue. She wanted to weep as his gaze cut a deeper hole through her. Hiding was her second option.
"I didn't escape." She whimpered quietly, despirately.
"Alright, I fix my wording." He snarled, "I did not think you foolish enough to -try- to escape to the elves."
"But I didn't..." Tears reached the corners of her eyes, and she forced them back, standing. She spread her arms, "Do you really think I would condemn myself to this!" His gaze swept over her as she stood before him, bared, for the most part, both emotionally and physically. The cuts went through the dress, so it was almost falling off of her now. "Do you really think I would leave Xanthe...?" Her voice weakened, and she let her head drop. She felt broken, and he felt guilty.
He had forgotten the child, and the girls determination to save her.
As tears slipped down her cheeks, stinging as they went, he approached her, slowly, so as not to alarm her, although she took a step back when he reached to take her arm.
"Shhhh..." He whispered, "I believe you, I believe you.." As he repeated the statement, Tara looked uncertainly at him, but stopped trying to escape him as he touched her gently. The cuts began to heal, and she gasped as the sharp pleasure cut through her, making her want to laugh, and scream, and cry, and moan, all at the same time. He took ahold of her other arm, mostly to keep her from collapsing, and the scratches on the other side of her body began to heal also.
"What are..." She panted, staring at him with wide eyes, "What are you doing... doing to me?" He only smirked as she felt her body growing weak from his sweet torture, and suddenly she realized that the healing did not require this... this sensation. This was something he had added on his own.
When she was sufficiantly healed, Jareth whisked her up into his arms, so that her legs were draped over one arm, and her head rested weakly on his shoulder as her vision blurred in and out of clarity. He may as well have drugged her for all she faught him as he carried her through the halls. The goblins stopped to stare at them as he passed them. He didn't even acknowledge them with a glance.
Tara blinked a couple of times as she was lain down on the softest bed she had ever felt, and turned her head to see the black satin. She began to panic as her gaze wandered. He shut the light out from the balcony window with heavy black curtains. She frowned, finding herself in darkness. Her eyes, naturally, immediately found the first light provided, a blue flame from a red candle. He lit more candles, and more candles, lingering over each one to stare at her through the light for a moment before he moved to the next.
He was teasing her. Manipulating her mind to think of him as the light in the darkness. He who would rescue her when her nights became restless. She knew it. She could feel him bending her thoughts to his will, but she didn't have the will to protest at the moment. She was broken, and he had fixed her. She was lost, and he had found her. It was the way things were.
As he loomed over her, her thoughts drifted to Xanthe, and she opened her mouth to ask about her, but his gloved finger stopped her from speaking.
"Forget about the child." He whispered, leaning over her, and placing his lips tenderly to hers. He stroked ebony strands of hair out of her pale face, and half lifted her to him. His touch still had that shocking effect.
In the flickering blue light, lost within the commanding pleasures of his touch, Xanthe began to fade from Taras reeling mind.
Authors Notes: First off-- No, Jareth does not belong to me. Second off-- neither does the Labyrinth, however, Tara and Xanthe are of my own creation, as well as this story plot, whether you like it or not.
Third off-- Let me just mention a few stats. Chapters: Four. Hits: 68 (yay!) Reviews: 0
What the hell!
Just -one- review would make me -so- happy!
(And here I go with begging in my own roundabout way. Oh well...)
