I'm holding on for dear life. Won't look down, won't open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, 'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight
"Bring me more *hic* peach vodka!"
Sir Didymus sighed at his monarch's shouted command. The Goblin King had already chugged two flagons of ale, several goblets of spiced wine, a healthy serving of traditional eggnog, and now he was working through the bottle of peach vodka that the goblins had given him for Yule.
"Majesty," ventured Sir Didymus, "Hast thou not had enough for this evening?"
The Goblin King leaned down from his throne and glared at the little knight.
"I've had enough, when I say I've had enough," he slurred. "I'm the King, am I not?"
"Yes, of course, Sire. But-"
"No buts!" shouted the king. "Go bother Hedgewort and leave me the fuck alone!"
Sir Didymus frowned, but bowed low to his king before scurrying off to another part of the castle. There was little use arguing with the Goblin King when he was this far gone.
Jareth slumped over in his throne, resting his head against his knuckles.
Bloody knight with his stupid concerns. This is largely his fault anyway. He helped her. He helped her win. He helped her slip away…
He went through all the ways he wanted to punish the knight and the dwarf and the rock-caller, and even the stupid shaggy dog. He wanted to bog them, or turn them into goblins, or use them for cannon practice. But no. He couldn't do any of it. They were under her protection.
"It's not fair," he growled, then cringed at the echo of her words.
He scrambled up from his throne, wobbling a bit as he stood.
"Where's my peach vodka?!" he yelled to the empty throne room.
A ragged little goblin wearing a broken terracotta pot for a hat appeared in the doorway and cautiously approached. Jareth tapped his stockinged foot on the stone floor as he waited. The goblin silently took the king's cup and refilled it with the fruit-sweetened alcohol before offering it up to his master. Jareth snatched the cup from the goblin's grubby little hands and took a long swig.
"Leave the bottle and go find my other boot," he snarled.
The goblin nodded and skittered from the room as fast as his little legs would carry him. No one dared question the Goblin King when he was on a bender and this was a bender like none they'd seen before.
When the goblin had gone, Jareth sank back down into his throne. He tossed the empty cup aside with a clatter and lifted the bottle to his lips.
"Stupid goblins," he mumbled. "Couldn't even keep a stupid girl from making it to the stupid castle. It's all their fault. If they could fire a stupid cannon…"
He took another swig from the bottle and looked around the room which had begun to spin slightly. The colors blurred and faded to shades of white and silver. Jareth's head spun with the room that was suddenly filled with sounds of laughter and revelry. The sparkling chandeliers overhead cast a cool glow over the scene as dancers swirled and glasses clinked and voices echoed across the hall.
Jareth smiled a drunken smile and stood and staggered toward the center of the room.
Forget the goblins. Forget the girl. Forget tomorrow. Only tonight matters. Only this moment. Nothing else exists.
The room paused in its swirling and humming as the Goblin King lifted his bottle high.
"A toast to now," he proclaimed.
The revelers lifted their glasses and forced their lips to smile. "To now!" they echoed.
Jareth drank his toast with them, choking down feelings of despair and resignation with the sticky sweet vodka.
"Fuck tomorrow," he cursed. "Tonight I will celebrate."
He grabbed a masked fay woman who happened to be passing and swung her out onto the dance floor. The room dulled into a blurry swirl of music and winking candles and shimmering crystal as Jareth danced.
Nothing else exists…
The goblin he had sent in search of his boot crept quietly back into the room dragging his master's missing footwear behind him. He stopped in the doorway and gasped at the scene in the center of the room.
The Goblin King danced and spun alone in the darkness, shirtless, with one foot booted and the other bare, a half-empty bottle of vodka clutched tightly in his fist and a crooked smile on his face.
Alarmed and bewildered, the goblin sank back into the shadows as a quiet whisper penetrated the dark silence.
"Tomorrow…"
"Easy there, Sar," said Jennifer, prying the stemmed glass from her best friend's hand. "I think you've had enough for tonight."
"Pssssh!" Sarah scoffed. "I'm just getting started. It's a party, remember?"
"Maybe so," her friend countered, "but don't you think you should go a bit easier for this one? After all, tomorrow-"
"Tomorrow doesn't matter right now," Sarah interrupted. "All that matters is tonight. Right now. Okay?"
"But Sarah-"
"No buts!" Sarah spat. "I don't want to talk or think about tomorrow. I just want to have a good time tonight."
"Fine, but I'm keeping an eye on you," Jennifer warned.
"Whatever," Sarah laughed, waving her off.
She teetered off toward the flashing lights and pulsing music in the center of the room, stopping briefly at the bar to grab another glass of–what was she drinking? She blinked down at the glass in her hand.
Champagne? Vodka? Goblin ale?
She wasn't sure anymore but it didn't matter. As long as her glass was full she'd be happy. That was the key, she had decided earlier. Keep a full glass and hang on to the happy, floaty feeling, and don't think about anything else.
Sarah paused and looked blearily around the room. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. There was laughter and drinking and music and dancing.
"Dancing," she thought, snapping her eyes shut and taking a gulp from her glass.
The noise from the room muffled and changed. The pulsing rock beat stilled and quieted into a music box ballad. Snippets of lyrics played through her head.
Every thrill is gone,
Wasn't too much fun at all…
Sarah shook her head and opened her eyes and the voices and music blared back to life. On the dance floor couples were swaying to the sound of John Legend's smooth voice crooning a love song.
Don't let it slip away, tomorrow's too late
It's our night, please don't leave me
"Fuck tomorrow," Sarah growled before slinging back the rest of her drink. "Fuck stupid, sappy lyrics," she muttered as she staggered back toward the bar. She grabbed a glass of champagne from a silver tray.
"That's for the toast…" began the man behind the bar, but Sarah silenced him with a glare.
"Mornings of gold, Valentine evenings, barf!" she sneered to the bartender. "Fear me, love me, I will be your slave. Who says ridiculous things like that?"
"I– I don't know," stammered the bartender. "Are you okay? Do you need me to get–"
"I don't need anything or anyone," Sarah snarled. "I just need to dance." She took a long sip of champagne. "And drink," she added. She stepped away from the bar and made her way toward the dance floor on wobbly legs.
"I need to dance and drink and not think about tomorrow. Just tonight. Nothing else exists," she mumbled to herself.
Closing her eyes again, she began to sway with the music. The bubbles on her tongue were now in her head and she felt light and floaty, like a foil birthday balloon. Sarah spun around and her full skirt billowed around her. She smiled wistfully at the memory of what had seemed like a thousand yards of tulle and lace. She'd been nearly dwarfed by the puffed sleeves, let alone the piles of hair entwined with vines of silver. She had felt so beautiful, so grown up. Like a princess.
No, a queen.
Sarah stopped spinning but the room did not. She pitched forward and would have fallen face-first onto the travertine floor if a pair of arms had not grabbed her and held her up.
"Whoa there, princess," said a male voice.
Sarah squinted in the flashing lights at the owner of the voice and the arms that were keeping her upright.
"Jareth?"
"Who?" asked the voice.
"No-nothing," Sarah stammered as her vision cleared somewhat and she looked up into Daniel's puzzled face.
"Jen said I should find you," Daniel told her. "She told me you were enjoying yourself a bit too much."
"I'm fine," Sarah said, wriggling out of his embrace. "You've seen me drink lots more."
"Yes," Daniel said, reaching out to caress her flushed cheek, "but not on the eve of our wedding."
Sarah's heart dropped into her stomach at his words.
Tomorrow. I'm marrying Daniel tomorrow.
"Right," she sighed. "I'm sorry."
Daniel laughed and pulled her close.
"No need to apologize," he said warmly. "I know all the wedding stuff has been stressing you out and you certainly deserve to cut loose and have fun."
He leaned down and kissed her nose. "I just don't want you to feel like shit on what's supposed to be the happiest day of your life."
"That's going to happen, sober or not," Sarah thought with a sigh.
She kept the thought to herself. She loved Daniel after all. Good, kind Daniel without an ounce of malice in his body. Daniel, who would never play games or stretch the truth or cheat. Nice, safe, vanilla Daniel. They would be happy, she supposed. They were the perfect couple. Everyone said so.
"Care to dance?" Daniel's voice roused Sarah from her thoughts.
"A bit later," she heard herself answer. "I need to clear my head."
"Whatever you wish, princess," her soon-to-be-husband said before leaning down and kissing the tip of her nose.
Sarah forced a sweet smile at him and then turned and hurried from the dance hall and down a dark corridor. She found an open door and pushed her way inside. The room was dark, but quiet. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Sarah could make out the trappings of another hall. This one was smaller than the one her pre-wedding party was being held in, but it was still nicely appointed, with floor to ceiling velvet curtains and gold chairs with plush red cushions. Sarah sat down in one of the chairs, her foot kicking something as she seated herself. She looked down at her foot and saw a half-full bottle of very expensive champagne, no doubt left over from an earlier event.
Sarah smiled and picked it up, knowing full well that it was most likely warm and flat.
"Champagne is champagne," she said, lifting the bottle to her lips. The liquid was room temperature, but it still had a bit of fizz, so Sarah carried the bottle with her as she stood and moved to the center of the room.
Above her head, a crystal chandelier caught a beam of moonlight, glittering like a thousand tiny stars.
I'll leave my love between the stars…
Sighing into the empty room, Sarah hugged the bottle of champagne to her chest and did a slow twirl beneath the chandelier.
Round and round she turned, singing softly to herself.
There's such a fooled heart
Beating so fast
In search of new dreams
A love that will last…
The End
A/N:
I was on the treadmill yesterday jamming out to Sia when I got the picture of Jareth and Sarah going on simultaneous benders while begrudgingly pining for each other. I considered writing it out, but held off. That is, until this morning, when one of the first things I saw online was the Friday Ficlet Challenge on the LFFL Facebook page. The prompt? A picture of His Nibs, shirtless, with only one boot, drunkenly calling for more peach vodka. The Writing gods have spoken and I must obey. It turned out longer (and sadder) than I had planned, but what can I say? I am but the humble scribe.
I am posting this on the last day of one the worst years of my life. But here's hoping the next is better and brighter for all of us.
Happy New Year!