CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN - HONORING TRADITION
Something this monumental hadn't happened in the Underground in as long as any of its inhabitants could remember. More than just the castle was a buzz with activity. From the Goblin City, through the Labyrinth and to the furthest reaches of the four sectors there was bustle and discussion. Was Sarah to become queen? What would this mean for the Labyrinth, the Underground, its creatures? Many had the privilege to have met the mortal and more still heard of her superior kindness. There were tales of beauty circulated comparing her to the most handsome of women. Her brave attempt to save the king had others describing her as fearless, brave. A perfect candidate for queen, the goblins heralded her when word of her tenderness toward Sari and Balmek had spread. Didymus freely shared the story of what happened at the Sidhe's tomb. When the creatures in the Labyrinth heard of all that had transpired, they were awe stricken. Without having made a single change in this world, Sarah Williams had managed to change the minds of all the residents within its borders. Mortals were not the evil creatures they had heard about in the passed down fabrications their parent's parents had kept up. Finally, there had been some acceptance of the humans which had only been monsters during the time of the raids, all that is but for a few.
Tiberon had only the Shadow King at his side, having killed off his only other ally and with his father having met his ugly death upon the same blade he'd wielded centuries earlier. Now the Representative faced inquisition and investigation by the Triumvirate, possibly the loss of his title, if not his life. Within the walls of his small castle, he stewed, pacing the floor, wearing thin the carpet beneath his feet. This was not how things were supposed to be. He was to orchestrate their pain and instead they planned their bliss. They were to bow to him, cower in his presence, but instead their grip tightened on the throne. Where was the justice? The Shadow King sat, slung over the arms of Louis XVI style chair. "Is this how you propose to deal with all that has transpired since the mortal came?" he asked as he dug beneath his fingernails with the pointed edge of a letter opener.
Tiberon's eyes fell upon him with all the sharpness of a sword's tempered steel. "You've some suggestion undoubtedly?"
"And so I do," he agreed tossing the now useless instrument up and over his left shoulder. The letter opener clanked against the hard floor. "Exchange this pity for vengeance, turn in your woe for jubilation, replace your subordination with control." The Shadow King circled Tiberon, daring to stare down at him, the fey who had housed the exiled portion of the Goblin King and yet he dared to condescend to him. "Where's that fire that burned in your eyes only a month ago when you were filled with determination to dethrone the bastard who killed your father?"
"It died when he died," Tiberon replied curtly.
Closing in on the Representative, he snarled, "And that is when the flames should have fanned their highest." In the blackest part of his eye, Tiberon saw a glint as he stared hypnotized by the Shadow King's ability to exude hate. It was an admirable quality. In an instant, the spark spread, igniting the rich violet of Tiberon's eyes with the fury he feared had gone. "There we have it," the Shadow King drawled. "So nothing has truly died here after all, not yet anyway."
The meaning of his slow, well pronounced words was unmistakable. "What do you suggest we do about that, my friend?"
"Mmmmmm," he purred "I thought you'd never ask." A long arm folded around the Representative's shoulder, guiding him toward a seat, his sneer wide, practically monopolizing his face.
The Great Hall seemed even grander this morning, columns stretching between the floor and ceiling, the length of it tripling. Breath echoed in the vacant space as Sarah attempted to calm her frazzled nerves. Jareth's fingers wound around her hand, eager to remind her he stood ever surely at her side. Three empty thrones seemed miniaturized before them. Oddly enough, it was the click of Jareth's heels on the marble floor that told the mortal they were making their way forward, for she had failed to notice her own feet shuffling one over the other. Once she'd become aware of this, Sarah easily picked out the other giveaways, the steadily growing thrones, the echo which seemed to surround her now rather than point at her, and the strengthening nauseous sensation in her stomach.
As if the floor were marked like some sort of stage, Jareth and Sarah stopped on cue. Empty, the Triumvirate's seats appeared even more intimidating than when the prestigious elders occupied them. Sarah would not have believed that possible, not after taking the Gavel on, eye to eye, as she had, but it was true. Bare chairs seemed to enforce who was important here and who would be made to wait until such time as they were deemed worthy by the mighty ones. It wasn't the Cleric she feared. His support had been hers from the first day. Not the Sage, for he was easily swayed and would trade allegiances as easily as blinking. Even the Gavel failed to tremble the heart in her chest. She had brought him to his knees once and if need be she could most likely do it again. Anticipation on the other hand, anticipation made her palms clammy, her brow sweat cold. The mortal mind was quick to succumb to inanimate emotion rather than the tangible enemy.
Clouds of smoke filled the chairs, forcing Sarah to blink her eyes a number of times to be absolutely sure it wasn't some misconstrued interpretation made by her mind, induced by her nerves. Half a dozen blinks and the amorphous mists began to take form, the friendly eyes of the Cleric, the sideways stare of the Sage and the judgmental glare of the Gavel. "Ms. Williams," the Gavel spoke first as always, "Nice of you to join us."
Shaking knees gave way to a slight curtsey, "My pleasure," she stammered.
"And your majesty," he said with a far cry more respect than he typically showed, "always good to see you."
"Likewise Gavel, I'm sure," he replied in an attempt to hide his suspicion. Jareth's hand covered his sternum as he bowed to the Triumvirate. "Cleric, Sage," he acknowledged them individually and then generally he added, "'tis good hearted of you all to agree to see us this morning."
"Ah," the Cleric sighed, "and what a lovely morning it is. Have you seen? Why the sun seems to coat the entire realm this day, the whole Underground and all our smaller kingdoms, blanketed in gold." He seemed to only go on about the splendid sun without any real focus for his praise.
"I'm sure there are more pressing matters than the forecast these two would like to make way with," the Sage pointed out.
"Indeed," the Gavel concurred. His hand extended, "The scrolls if you don't mind."
From his side, the Goblin King hoisted the sack containing the scrolls they'd been given what seemed like ages ago now for all they had weathered. He couldn't help but notice as he approached the Triumvirate the significant difference in their weight between then and now, how much lighter and more manageable those scrolls were with signatures upon them. A smile reshaped his normally indeterminate face as he handed off the sack. "Many thanks," the Gavel told him most obligatorily. The king nodded and returned to his mortal's side. "Let's have a look then, shall we. If the rumors which make their way up this mountain these days are true, you've successfully obtained the signatures necessary to proceed with this hearing."
At the realization of the Gavel's admission of their success, partial success anyway, Sarah let out the breath she'd been holding in, her shoulders relaxed a little and she allowed her toes to uncurl. She noticed an ease in Jareth's posture too, but quickly reminded herself there was more to meet their approval than just the authenticity of the scrolls. For good measure she recurled her toes.
Producing a crystal from one of the folds in his robe, the Gavel swept it over the signatures on two of the scrolls. "Ms. Williams, I see neither of your legitimate parents objected to this union, nor your father's current wife. I admit to my surprise at this. I won't pretend I didn't do my research when it came to your first visit here and I'm well aware of exactly how ill received your talk of the Underground was when you returned home."
"That was a number of years ago, your highness," Sarah noted, showing no reaction to his blatant invasion of privacy. "If I might say, I've matured a fair deal since then, as has my father." Skeptically he watched her, waiting for her to remark on Karen or Linda. Not wanting to disappoint she added, "Fortunately, mother and Karen have failed to mature in the slightest and so it was no strain, in particular, to have them quickly disregard their responsibilities for me, at least the responsibilities you think they ought to have."
"I see." The Gavel cleared his throat and then turned each scroll to either side waiting as both the Sage and the Cleric nodded their consent to each signature which took on a certain illuminated quality after being swept by the crystal. "Perhaps it's best if you not share with me the means by which you obtained these," he cautioned her. "What you may not realize is while these signatures are authentic, they must be given freely and so if you've obtained them under some sort of, shall we say, duress, it is within my power to refuse the consent." His eyebrow rose to accentuate his point as he looked down his nose at the two of them.
Jareth moved to speak, but the Cleric hushed him with an upheld palm. Gently he whispered into the king's mind, 'Not so fast my son. The Gavel kept to his word and trusted the two of you to behave appropriately. I on the other hand became curious, if you will. I know what Linda Williams agreed to and trust me when I tell you the Gavel would not look upon this as favorably.' Jareth had well since made the arrangements to have the remainder of what he'd promised Linda sent Aboveground and so the Cleric's warning, subtle as it had been caused the king to nod and swallow his words.
Closing the matter was Sarah's reply, "I assure you Gavel, responsibility for me has never been something to plague my mother. Likewise, it is a burden Karen would have as soon relieved herself of years ago. It's the one commonality between them."
"And the Sidhe," he went on as if he'd never been interrupted, "she conceded." Talk of Jareth's mother quickly drew his attention from the quiet communication of the Cleric. "Of all, this surprises me most. The Leanan Sidhe was never agreeable in life, you can imagine why I wouldn't expect death to change that." Again the crystal swept the scroll causing the signature to glow as it had when first it had been laid upon the parchment.
"You've no idea how much death has changed my mother," Jareth proclaimed.
"Indeed, as it seems to have done for you as well," the Sage noted.
Jareth tightened his gloves around his curling fingers, "I beg you not speak of that which you know nothing of."
"Pray tell," the Gavel led.
"It will suffice your needs to know that mother has since found her peace. The Sidhe's spirit shall no longer reside in our realm."
"Praise the Supreme One," the Cleric said as he bowed his head.
The Sage followed his lead only to have their moment of solace torn apart by the Gavel's quick reply. "All the better," he grunted.
The king held his tongue. He would not risk all now, when they were so close, by succumbing to his quick and heated anger. "It is a blessing, I won't deny that. A blessing not easily understood by the living. She felt no pain and yet she knew suffering. There's an end to that now and it is right," he narrowed his eyes upon the Gavel pointedly and yet with respect, calmly he continued, "for us to give thanks."
No more than a raise of the eyebrow lifted weakly, almost as if he were saying, 'Am I to experience some guilt because of what you've said?'
"Let's not get distracted by our differing view points," the Cleric tried to refocus the meeting taking place. "We've come together, all, for the same purpose, it would be my recommendation we stick at it."
"Indeed," the Sage agreed.
Tossing all but one of the scrolls aside, the Gavel concurred. "Miss Williams?" he inquired as his eyes scanned line after line of what Sarah had poured from her heart and scrawled as neatly by her hand as such a quick coming idea could be. "Do you seriously expect we will consider this rubbish?" A hearty laugh topped off his comment.
His remark shocked her. Was it not only weeks ago they had shared tea in the garden with his family? Had they come to no understanding that day? "I had thought," Sarah replied smartly, "you might at least share the rubbish, as you say, with your constituents prior to making your ruling on it." The Gavel's face easily showed his displeasure at her keen observation.
"I say good man, she's got one on you there," the Cleric chuckled as he extended his arm, his palm up, ready to accept the scroll. "I'll have a once over if you don't mind."
"No, not at all. Go on," the Gavel slammed the scroll into his co-chair's hand. "Waste your time."
"I've wasted more time on far more trifling matters in my many centuries, I dare say," he declared as he unrolled the parchment. A few times he could be heard mumbling the words aloud, a wide smile upon his face, the wonder of a child in his eyes. "I wouldn't say this is rubbish, Gavel."
"And what would you deem it then?" he asked.
The Cleric chose his words with care, "A vast undertaking, requiring patience, determination and a knack for social grooming. All characteristics of someone I would expect one to possess if one was to be capable of doing such things as, oh I don't know, regenerating an entire realm, humbling a Goblin King, those sorts of things."
The scroll was snatched immediately from his fingers. "What say you?" he asked, handing it immediately to the Sage. Everyone knew they must concur unanimously, what not everyone knew is that conditions await which made even the Gavel cringe.
As had the others, the Sage read the utopian ideas Sarah had authored upon the parchment and submitted for their approval. There was as much merit to her attempt as there was comedy. "To be fair, Cleric, there is a huge impossibility to this blueprint."
"Right then, citizenship denied," the Gavel interrupted.
"But Gavel, to be equally as fair, the overall concept, were it to go as designed, would be a significant and positive change for the Underground."
"Were it to go as designed," the Gavel spat the Sage's words back at him. "Listen to what you're saying. Good can only come of this plan of hers should it work and the likelihood of that is as great...as great as..." The Gavel was left stumbling to complete his comparison.
"As great as the likelihood this realm would see a full blood mortal christened fey," the Sage read into his thoughts.
"As great as the likelihood that a mortal would have so successfully completed the steps necessary to be considered for christening." the Cleric added.
"As great as any of those," the Gavel finished.
Stepping forward, Sarah took her fate by the reigns, "Pardon me. I don't mean to display pride, nor do I intend to boast of my accomplishments; however, if I'm to be judged once more today as you have judged me here in the past, then base that judgment upon what I have done. I've no control over what has never been done before me, nor much control over what can be done with a future I've yet to live. In all fairness, in a world where fairness seems nearly nonexistent, why play by what rules have been put in place. You're a people content to leave things to chance. All I ask is for you to recognize the chances I have taken, to acknowledge my chances have ended well thus far and to believe I'm worth that chance again."
"Goblin King," the Gavel drew his title from between clenched teeth, "have you read of the young mortal's plan for your kingdom."
"I have," he smiled broadly.
"And do you wish to chance your kingdom to her half-witted idea?"
"I have already left my life and my heart to her chance. My kingdom means nothing to me should she not be in it and so my choice is made. Precedence be damned, I leave my future to chance."
"Your faith in one another, no matter how fool hearty impresses me. Cleric, you stand by your support of these two?"
"Aye," he answered the Gavel.
"Sage, more specifically than you have previously replied, what say you?"
"I have much curiosity with this one," the Sage told him.
"You know what they say about curiosity," the Gavel warned.
From the floor before them, Sarah added, "Nothing ventured..."
"An ounce of prevention..." the Gavel countered.
"Enough!" came the Cleric's voice of everlasting reason. "We can cliche each other into infinity if we so desire, but matters more pressing beseech us. Sage, definitively, what say you?"
"I say," he looked intently at the Gavel's cold stare and then at the Cleric's anxious eyes. "I say she stays." It was perhaps the first and most concrete declaration he had ever made.
The Gavel angled his brow, observing the elder to his left with an odd mix of authority and respect. In all their many years of reign, the Sage had never voted contrarily to him. He could continue to make his argument he thought, but it would stalemate for ages. He could concede, against his better judgment and face ridicule should the girl, who had been surprisingly lucky thus far, succeed. In light of everything open for consideration, the smartest thing he could do was agree with them, cite his previous antagonistic behavior as another in the series of trials he designed for her. Bless their union and use this as an opportunity to present them the conditions of their union. Conditions he wasn't sure even their love would survive. "Well it seems I've been outnumbered." Sarah's lips began to turn northward into a smile. "Not so fast, mortal. I could as easily object as concede." Her smile faded. "Nonsense," he chuckled good heartily. "I could no more object to this as I could object to Jareth's Christening. I had to test your fortitude Sarah dear. A test that must be performed on the spur of the moment, a test defeated by preparation."
"Beg pardon, your highness, but in layman's terms?" the mortal asked humbly.
"Of course, in layman's terms, you shall be christened immediately..."
Sarah squealed with delight as Jareth filled his arms with her and orbited the mortal about him. "My love, my one true love," he declared.
"Immediately, that is, after the engagement period." The Gavel's addition halted their celebration. "We discussed this and so your surprise shocks me. We're making such an effort to accept mortals and their ways, I merely thought we should begin now."
"Agreed," Jareth said without consulting Sarah. She clutched his arm, "I've waited for you my entire life Sarah, any reasonable amount of time he would choose will seem no longer than a day," he added quietly.
"Three months," the Gavel declared.
"Three months?" Sarah asked. "Don't you find that a bit excessive?"
"Is three months an extraordinary engagement period in your world Ms. Williams?" She shook her head. "Then three months it shall be."
"As you wish," Jareth bowed. Sarah followed his lead.
The Gavel was amazed at what little objection they were putting up. "And during that time, it will be expected you observe proper relations with one another."
"Proper relations?" Jareth asked.
"You shall remain celibate with one another until the union night. It is a custom, is it not?"
"Well yes," Sarah admitted. "A seldom observed tradition, at best."
"Nonetheless it is tradition and thus I insist on its observation." Jareth grumbled a bit. "Do you wish for the union or not?"
"So that's it! You'll come up with any excuse won't you? You'll choose the most obscure things to deny us until we an call end to this all because you know you stand no chance of having the entire Triumvirate agree to dispute our union," Jareth raged.
The Gavel fit comfortably into his seat. "My dear king, my fair lady, I wish only to set all the stipulations of this union before you so that you can make an educated decision. Far be it for me to wish you to agree to unite only to later find out what you will be bereft of. This is the code of a world I did not create, the law of a time I scarcely remember. These are not my laws!"
"Agreed. The mortal and I will remain celibate toward one another for the full length of the three month period you have set as our engagement. Does his highness require anything else of us?" the King asked as his patience grew shorter and shorter.
"There is just one more thing. Should the two of you conceive during whatever fertile years remain left in this mortal, the child would have a 75 percent mortal lineage. Though that percentage would be recessive, it is still too much chance for us to take." The Cleric gasped audibly, the Sage's head hung, horror even streaked across the Gavel's face. "And so, upon being Christened, your mortal will find herself unable to conceive."
"You mean to sterilize me?" Sarah cried.
Jareth attempted to assert his say on things, "You're being unreasonable! What your asking is animalistic, inhuman even for fey!"
"Now Jareth, I'm only attempting to protect the bloodline. I'm only following the rules put in place centuries ago. Had your mother followed proper channels, your father would have met the same fate."
"You're attempting to make their refusal inevitable," the Cleric argued.
"I agree," the Sage added. "You ask too much."
"Perhaps I do," the Gavel agreed. "But this is the law and still I ask and since it is neither of you who makes the laws, you've nothing to agree or disagree with. Either the pair accepts the stipulations or they deny their petition." His head hung low, his stomach sickened.
In an instant, Sarah's mind thought a thousand things simultaneously. Part of her longed to feel the king's child growing in her womb, to see him marvel at the changes in her physically and emotionally, to watch the changes in him when the baby he nurtured for hours at a time became the child he raised to adulthood. Another part thought, if she refused, she'd be sent home and there she would never love again, let alone find the desire to conceive. There would be all the Aboveground babies to fulfill her maternal instincts, not to mention the goblin children she'd be working with and so what on the face seemed a difficult decision was truly not when weighed.
"Gavel," Sarah said stiffly, "My heart has had enough of being toyed with. Tell me now, mean you to make further stipulations on our union beyond this one."
"I remind you fair lady, these stipulations are not mine. They are the way of this realm and little is to be changed until a mortal can prove themselves. My hope for that lies in you." Her steely gaze told him she meant for a proper answer. "None more that I can think of."
"Then it shall be none ever!" Jareth demanded. His eyes pleaded with the Cleric for intervention.
"Such things are not at my discretion to decide."
Ignoring them all, Sarah continued on, monotone, a heavy sadness weighing her words. "This will be the last stipulation."
"Say again?" he asked her, stunned by her remark.
Stronger tones settled into the weak voice of the girl. "This will be the last of the stipulations, for if you persist in making these ridiculous requests of me, I shall continue to agree until at last I am Queen and then once I hold a throne, together with my husband and the willing assistance of the Cleric and the Sage, I shall endeavor to strip you of as much dignity as you have stripped from me. Make no mistake when it comes to my determination, your highness. I've a knack for succeeding as you have seen." Sarah took Jareth by the elbow.
"You don't have to agree to this. He's being preposterous, we'll appeal," the king said, caressing the back of her hand.
A half smile glowed up at him, eyes filled with compassion met his, "Appeal? In what sense and to whom. They'll only make some gauntlet of impossibility for us to suffer through until it is insisted we rescind the throne to a king appointed by him and live as goblins, among goblins. We agree," she said readily. "We agree to all you have asked of us. Three months from tomorrow morning, you will christen me fey and by midday, the Cleric shall pronounce me queen. In exchange we will honor and acknowledge that which you have asked us to sacrifice." Sarah turned with Jareth to leave.
"Where are you going?" the Gavel called.
Knowing his hands were tied by her defiance, his mind jumbled by her threat, Sarah added, "You know Gavel, it wasn't Jareth's heart born hardened, not his grandfather's blood which made him evil, not the Sidhe, but, and I speak from experience, your cold heart that taught him hate. Think on that when you worry about protecting this realm. Yours is a position of influence, perhaps you need to use it more wisely in the future."
"This hearing has not ended," the Gavel growled. "I do not make these laws, I but enforce them. I have given you every courtesy I could and still you dare to threaten me."
"We've very different ideas of courtesy then," Sarah said as she continued down the long hall toward the door.
"Quite different," the Sage objected.
"Indeed," the Cleric added. Both members of the Triumvirate rose from their thrones and left the Gavel sitting alone in his chair, steaming at the manner in which his own plan had failed him.
"What would you have me do?" the Gavel shouted after them. "I alone cannot rewrite the law. I alone cannot change the feelings established hundreds of years ago. What would you have me do?" His inquiry echoed off the walls until it was drown out by tears he was glad no one saw him shed.
Outside the castle the pathway was lined with creatures great and small, all in anticipation of the news. Ludo, Didymus, fairies and elves, goblins, some of whom Sarah had come to know by name, others who remained strangers to her, breeds she recognized, others she didn't, but all silent as night. From the end of the long parade a voice unmistakably rose from just feet above the earth and shattered the quiet. "Is she stayin'?" Hoggle asked point blank. Eyes flicked to the couple standing still before the doors to the castle of the Triumvirate.
Looking first at Sarah, Jareth raised her hand to place a tender kiss upon it's back before he addressed his subjects. "Fine creatures of this realm, inhabitants of the Underground, the Labyrinth and the Goblin City," a huge pause suspended the verdict. No one in attendance dared to so much as breath. The king did his level best to meet all of their eyes before he continued, "Bow to she who will be your queen."
A wave of cheers erupted through the crowd, flowers were tossed in the air and came floating down around the two as they walked the center aisle between the creatures of their world. A myriad of shouts stuck out at them. "We'd have appealed if they sent you away." "We'd never have allowed them to banish Ms. Williams." "Blessed be the Underground." "A fine queen, you'll be."
At the end of the litany of guests stood one. Hoggle, legs shoulder width apart, arms folded over his puffed out chest, eyes half closed, nose high in the air. "Hoggle," Sarah said to him. "Are you not happy that I have chosen to make this my home?"
At first his look was cold, almost cruel, she thought. "No, I ain't happy!" he scolded as the crowd grew quiet once more. And then his eyes began to glint like diamonds as moisture overtook them and his quaking lips fell into a smile. "My Sarah," he cried, clinging to her form which had bent to accommodate him. "Happy does not begin to do justice to what I'm feelin'." Some of the others began to cry with the two of them, while the less emotional ones rallied in cheers once more.
When at last the dwarf and the mortal parted, Jareth took her arm and transported them home."
"It was nice of them to rally to our aid as they did, don't you think." Sarah said when they popped into their chambers.
Jareth nodded, "It was thoughtful, even if it was useless."
"Useless? Doesn't it please you to know you've the support of your kingdom?"
"I suppose, but it does us little good where matters of our union are concerned. Little anyone can do now that you've agreed to all you've agreed to."
"Why must you be so argumentative?" she asked.
"I'm not trying to be argumentative, Sarah," Jareth attempted to say without shouting. "I'm only asking why you would agree to such unreasonable demands."
"Would you rather I have objected and been sent home?"
"No! Of course not!" The king attempted to hold her close to him, but she spun free of his reach.
"Then what would you have had me do?" Tears began to fall from her eyes. "I couldn't just leave you." She hadn't stopped to consider how he would feel, a king left to be king indefinitely, no heir to take his throne. No son to carry on his tradition. Perhaps she had been hasty in her decision making.
"But he was being completely unreasonable."
"Be that as it may," Sarah conceded to his touch this time, her cheek resting against his pale chest. "I feel fairly confident he was only enforcing the laws of this world, laws which I'm sure proved unreasonable prior to my arrival Underground and laws which will continue to be unreasonable for my entire stay."
"Didn't it mean anything to you, giving up the capacity to bear our child."
"It meant more to me than I can say, yet less than I am capable of describing. I have never been with child. I can only imagine what I would be missing. I know I've dreamt of the day I would find a man with whom I wanted to start a family, but Jareth, if I had told him I would not meet his demands, I would have been sent home where I would never have found a man to replace you or I would have been left here with my mortality intact for you to watch perish. And were we to try to outsmart the laws and conceive against the Gavel's ruling, think of the life that child would have, the ways it would be tortured, as you were tortured all these many years. This is for the best Jareth. Once my plan is in effect in the Underground, we will be immersed in children needing of our care, thirsting for our attentions and we will derive a similar satisfaction from finding them loving homes as we might from raising them. Let us find our hope in that."
"Forgive me if I cannot always see fortune where you find it."
"Can you love me if I am never to give you a child Jareth? Tell me truthfully." Her hands roamed his chest. "It isn't as if I couldn't understand why it would be necessary for you to have a child, a son to carry on the monarchy."
Without thinking, he replied, "In my world a daughter can as easily hold the throne." He felt fresh hot tears burn his skin. Jareth's eyes grew wet with loss and admiration for her ability to find the positive spin most people overlooked. A snap of his fingers and they were lying in their bed. Her silky eyelashes flickered on his skin as she attempted to bat the tears from her eyes. His tender hand smoothing over her back. Arulan knocked at the door and the king quickly dismissed her. "Just tea this afternoon, if you please."
"Nothing to eat, sire?"
"Nothing just yet, thank you, but we shall ring if we require anything further."
"Yes your grace, milady," Arulan curtsied on her way out the door. With the privacy of the wall between them she was free to gnaw nervously upon her nails.
"There is a certain amount of pleasure to be derived from the freedom to cave into our passions at a moment's notice." His lips traveled over her neck, suddenly attracted to this brave woman who had risked so much only to love him. He hoped he would live long enough and well enough to deserve her.
"Jareth," Sarah grinned. She recognized his persistence as a sign that he would easily be able to love her regardless of her ability to give him an heir. "What about the Triumvirate's engagement period?"
"What of it? A very wise mortal conveniently had him agree to start that engagement period as of tomorrow morning. That gives us the better part of a day to exhaust ourselves."
"So it does," she smiled up at him, her bright eyes casting rainbows through the droplets resting in her lids. "I love you," she said sincerely.
"I know, as I have never known another woman to love any other man, I know your love for me. I hope you know I return that love equally, even if I sound or behave in a contradictory manner at times. I am but part fey and part man, neither part perfect, neither part wise."
Sarah's hands fell about his neck, her lips massaging his, "To me you are perfect, every part." With no hesitation, Sarah surrendered to his gentle touch, allowing him to have at her in his own way. The king's hands worked in synchronicity with his mouth to ignite her, covering every molecule of her flesh, until it had been tasted like wine and caressed with loving care. When he had built her to a sufficient frenzy, he slid into her with almost painful slowness. They lie there connected as close as any two souls would ever be, but for the bond between mother and child. Suddenly she knew the depth of his love for her, knew that even if she couldn't bear his child she could fill his life. Jareth made love to her gently, finding every pleasurable spot inside of her and bringing it to climax. When he had sufficiently satisfied his mortal, he took his own release and collapsed at her side whispering sweet similes of love into her ear.
"Has time ever seen a love such as this?" Sarah mindlessly wondered aloud lost in the afterglow of their commitment to one another.
"Not before now," Jareth reassured her, his still hot lips pecking at her stomach, the perspiration from their love making lingering there like dew. "And if it isn't too bold of me to say, never since."
"Since when does the Goblin King worry over what is too bold for him to say?"
Jareth met her smirk with his own facetious smile, "I suppose you've got a point. Boldness be damned," he said tossing back his crumpled mane, his motions took on a melodramatic flair as he pulled Sarah to him. "We've a love like none before us has ever known and as king, I declare none shall know it since." His mouth covered hers swift and tender. "Sealed with a kiss," he added.
As he seemed perpetually capable of doing, Jareth had managed to put Sarah's mind at ease while proving, once again, his love for her had neither restriction nor condition. Thereby she found herself again able to focus on educating the masses. Slumped over her desk, Sarah moaned. Writing a textbook was proving far harder than anything she'd attempted in the past. It was no inscription in a card, no diary entry, no letter to a friend wishing fondness. She'd taken a crack at poetry once, even the occasional short story, once when her acting career had really seemed as though it may take off, she wrote a one act play, but even that did not require as much planning, foresight and perseverance as did this text. At first it was no more than writing out the alphabet, coordinating letters with photos in which the letter could be pronounced properly, which varied so in the English language. Sarah learned this quickly. The soft a of cat was not the same as the hard a in ate. Ate, A-T-E was not the same as E-I-G-H-T, alone or as in weight, which was not the same as wait, W-A-I-T. Words that looked exactly the same but were pronounced differently, read for example, were a complexity that had more recently occurred to her.
When the door opened and Deverell saw her in her current state he couldn't help but chuckle some. Sarah's head lifted an inch or so from the desk and she muttered. "Go away. You were right, I can't do this. I can't teach goblins to speak a language I don't even understand."
"Pity," the king's assistant said. "I had come to give you this book thinking it might help you in your endeavor, but since you've abandoned your cause I suppose there's no point to giving it to you now." Despite his proclamations, Deverell welcomed himself deeper into her office and sat facing her desk in one of the chairs. "'Tis a shame milady, if I may say so, you've decided to give up," he accentuated the negative mortal term, "when so many were just beginning to believe in you, myself included." When she did not stir, her wild hair doming the back of her head and meeting the polished wood of the desk, he added, "Surely the king will be disappointed." Met again by a dormant skull he edged, "Not to mention the ridicule he'll endure for having such a weak minded queen."
It was eerie the way her head lifted, slow, steady as if it were on strings. Sarah's hands smoothed back the hair from her face just before snapping open her green eyes which had gone from dull to fire-like at Deverell's final remark. "You may not say so," she told him authoritatively. "In fact, you may not say anything such as that again. Now hand me this book you claim will help so much."
"As milady wishes." Containing his smile, he folded back the flap on his leather belt. The book was tattered as if it had been used many times, the cover faded from years of opening and closing, being toted about, but nonetheless it intrigued her. Leather-bound in burgundy, it reminded her of another well read book from her youth. "Open it," the assistant instructed.
Turning several pages, Sarah at last began to see the correlation between her goal and what Deverell had brought her. "It's a schoolbook," she cried, looking down at a page used for spelling. "Where did you get this?"
"Was mine many years ago when I was but a lad. I realize it's an antique, but I thought it would help milady pen her own."
From behind the desk she came bounding, throwing her arms around him, she bent for an embrace, "Thank you. Thank you a thousand times!" she squealed. Deverell's face filled with her hair and as he smiled, her contagious joy getting the better of him, he caught a whopping mouthful of the strands. "I didn't think the Underground had schools?"
"You are correct. The Underground has no schools. Education is passed down by the educated here. Through the ages its priority has dwindled, but where I am from, Burggraaf, education is required for a minimum of eight years. That is the first of my texts. The others are to arrive by post when mother finds them."
"Deverell, I can't thank you enough," Sarah went on, now eager to get back behind her desk and start over with the text she was creating. "This is all too much," her eyes narrowed on him in a good hearted manner as she chided, "especially from someone so eager to find fault in my plan."
"My dear woman," he chided back, "would I find fault in she who was to be my queen and live to tell the tale." Slapping his palms off his knees, he stood. "Alas, though I may find your company a sight more pleasurable, my servitude to the king harkens me. Good day, milady."
"Yes, yes it is," she said without thinking and busy went back to scrawling out the pages of her text.
Jareth had fallen asleep hours earlier, curled into the seat of one of the wingback chairs, anticipating the completion of Sarah's daunting task. Unfortunately, she was driven beyond what even he could imagine, and fey had quite an imagination.. To his dismay, or what had been the equivalent thereof when he was awake, Sarah plodded on, long after his snoring had made the bridge from annoying interference to harmonic accompaniment in her ears. And on she worked still, long after everyone in the castle had gone to sleep, long after even the stars had begun to doze.
Morning's light woke him savagely and still she penned on. "Sarah, love, you've gone on straight through the night."
"So I have," she acknowledged with little more than a shrug.
Jareth stooped beside her in the chair, "I don't like when you push yourself so hard."
"Nonsense. I didn't even realize the entire night had passed me by."
She smiled, and had he even a wink of rest it would have better disarmed him, but instead the king replied, perhaps a bit sarcastically, "Though that we all would be so lucky."
"You could have gone to bed," Sarah retorted.
The great yellow mane which in itself was a crown nodded. "And yet, the comfort of my bed is nonexistent without your closeness and the peacefulness of my slumber unknown without your company." His lips kissed at her hand.
"Well tonight you shall not know such pains," she played into his dramatics. One last flair of the quill and she set it to rest in the ink well. "I am finished…with the first text and that should be good enough for now. Tomorrow we'll assemble…"
"Tomorrow," he repeated, halting her sentence.
"Yes, tomorrow. I'm far too tired today."
"Sarah, I don't think you understand. Tomorrow is not a day for work in the Underground. It's the equivalent of a Sunday Aboveground. At least I think tomorrow is the sacred day. With your inability to tell day from night I sometimes meld them together myself until one day flows successively from it's previous into its following without stopping distinctly to mark itself for my benefit. Still I believe it is tomorrow and the shops will be closed and everyone will be hearth side with their families, it would be considered quite an insult for you to call them out tomorrow."
Sarah sighed. "Fine then. I shall rest only a few hours and call them out tonight."
"Can this not wait until tomorrow past?" With almost a pout, he whined, "I'd made plans for this evening."
Her hands cradled his still heavy head, "Perhaps I have been working to hard. Until tomorrow past then." He smiled up at her satisfied. "But then we shall assemble the goblins, choose the instructors and begin to work with them until they are able to teach the others."
"And I shall send your book to the printers for copies." He tapped the ragged stack of sheets with his index finger and it vanished. "There, my part is done, now what was all this about a nap?"
"I didn't actually say the word nap," Sarah said teasingly.
Jareth stood and took her by the hands, "Well until you are queen I still outrank you and I declare it time for a royal nap."
"As his majesty wishes," she conceded as she settled under his arm.
Agreeing to even the most unreasonable things seems like logic if it keeps you close to the one you love. At times the heart finds itself hastily accepting a circumstance it does not yet realize is to become a challenge. Thus were the promises Jareth and Sarah had made to the Triumvirate. Impossible commitments they could no more keep than they could keep their distance from one another. Some had not yet become apparent, for only time would tell if Sarah's barren womb would wake her in the middle of the night, her maternal instincts strong for a child she could not have. Or Jareth for that matter, when centuries of being king had aged him beyond time humans could imagine, where would he turn to fill his throne, but to some inconsequential selection made by the Triumvirate and forced to fill his shoes. It would not be his flesh and blood, his offspring, to learn and do as he had done or perhaps better. It would be a stranger who would pleasingly accept his instruction and laugh behind the back of the king until the throne was made a gift to him. No, those realizations would need time to come.
For now they lie contentedly in one another's arms, the peace of slumber blessed upon them. Martyrs for true love, left a quiet reprieve by fate. Victors in the face of adversity to lay precedents for all who follow. Fey and mortal, man and woman, opposites drawn together by mutual attraction to form a bond stronger than nature, stronger than sense, stronger than the law. All unhappiness ignored by their closed eyes, they went on dreaming, fine dreams, of a future they had not altogether been guaranteed.
Sarah dreamed of being queen, but not in the way one might think a lady dreams of being queen. It was not the jeweled crown or the unquestionable authority her subconscious thirsted for, but rather the permanency, the assurance of her rightful place at Jareth's side. She had not earned it, but then again perhaps she had. Certainly not by the standards of the Underground or the fey women who loathed her when they saw her and for no better reason than they had seen her with him. But in the sense that at his side was where she felt she most belonged, not demonstratively, but physically. Home was no shelter, no structure. Home was where he was, be it with roof and walls or no more than sky and earth. She dwelled in happiness when she walked in the sunshine of his smile. Her satisfaction was the touch of his hand. She dreamt of her true love.
Jareth dreamed of their ceremony, of the symbolism their joining would create. Visions filled his head of knowing, though life may not always be free of difficulty, it would be free of worry that Sarah would be torn from him again, cast into a world which did not welcome him or unwelcome by a world she'd only wronged once. Even in slumber he chuckled at how small it seemed now. All those years ago when a young impetuous girl wandered wide-eyed into his Labyrinth he never dreamed she'd leave it crumbled at his feet. But all she had done since to rebuild it, to better it, made the span between then and now seem no more than a hiccup in history. She would walk toward him, dressed in the finest gown which could be made for her. She would accept his hand, accept his ring as she had accepted him, without question. And only the jaws of death would rip her from him again. Jaws which he felt confident immortality would keep at bay. He dreamt of his true love.
The sun gained position in the sky, stood over them directly and smiled down with all it's might and still they slumbered. Lunch had been served and cleaned away, all without their knowledge. As the sun began it's descent toward the horizon, it was Jareth's painful erection which chased away his all too pleasant dreams and first gave him proof that what is easily made a promise is sometimes hurtful to keep. Instinctively he drew her close, the woman at his side who seemed plucked from his dreams and laid at his side. His lips sought out her cheek and then her mouth. She returned his kiss with as much vigor as sleeping would allow her. On he went to her throat and neck, that patch behind her ear he knew evoked the kind of reaction he was eager for just now.
As cruel luck would have it, his pursuits rewarded him and soon Sarah was returning as much interest as Jareth was displaying. Soft moans escaped her hungry mouth and hands clutched at him insinuating their need for closeness. A roaming hand confirmed his bride was ready to accept him. Jareth rose above the woman who he loved more than his own life and as he moved to join their bodies Sarah exclaimed, "We can't!"
Jareth stopped, all the confusion of a century upon his brow. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," she attempted to say as if she truly meant it. "It's just that we said we would remain celibate until our wedding night. We promised the Triumvirate."
An image of the Gavel flashed in his head helping to deaden his eagerness to claim his mortal. "Damn," Jareth said as he collapsed at her side. His hands pawed her body. "I won't pretend I'm not disappointed."
"I'm just as disappointed as you are," Sarah reassured him, sure that a male ego was a male ego be it in a human shell or a fey one. "I don't want to risk our not being permitted to unite. I can't risk a lifetime of happiness for a few minutes of pleasure." Tenderly she kissed the side of his face.
Eyebrow cocked, Jareth peered sideways at her without turning his head, "A few minutes?"
"Oh alright, a few hours," still he peered on. "An entire afternoon, but that's where I draw the line. Your stamina is not in question."
"As long as we're clear on that," he huffed as he propped onto his elbow looking down at her. "I have other plans in store for you this day, although that was perhaps the best of them."
"I doubt it," she said without thinking causing his eyebrow to jerk again. "I just mean that when you make plans it's rather difficult to determine which of them is the best." She lifted her head to kiss his lips. "Tell me what we'll do today."
"No, it is all going to be a surprise, one continuous surprise. Now out of this bed and dressed by the time I get back with our," he looked at the clock, "albeit late, lunch."
"Oh, afford me the time to bathe," she whined. "I am not as inclined with magic as you are."
Jareth kissed her quick on the forehead, "Ah, but you will be. When you are my bride!" he shouted as he left the bed and motioned his hand to dress himself nearly instantly. By the time he reached the door he was perfectly pressed and hairs in place.
'That's got to be a blessing,' Sarah thought as she made her way to the tub.
"Aren't you ready yet?" the king hollered through the bathroom door.
A distinct "No," was the reply. "I need a few more minutes."
"Were it not that I knew better, I would wager you weren't interested in this evening of surprises I have in store."
"Lucky for me you know better then, isn't it?"
"Gaw! Sarah confounded! Is there nothing my magic can assist you with that would speed up this process of getting ready you mortals seem to put so much effort into?" Back and forth outside the door he paced in long strides. Silence met the click of his boots against the floor. Murmuring to himself he made his way around the perimeter of the room, dodging furniture as he did. "If I live a hundred thousand more years I will never understand women, especially the mortal ones," he grumbled on. "They wish to be wooed and surprised and then when the time comes to woo and surprise them they shuffle their feet." The king indulged in a little shuffle of his own that would easily of had any onlooker in stitches. In fact, it was the giggle from the bathroom doorway which brought him out of his impersonation. What he saw when he whipped around, his legs still at an awkward angle from his dance, his arms still dangling mid-air, sobered him quickly.
Sarah stood posed perfectly, a lilac chiffon gown wrapped around her as elegant as the french twist which held her hair to the back of her head. "You like what you see?" she asked.
"Indeed." In truth he'd not yet made it much below her neckline, but even a quick glance was look see enough to know he liked it. A wave of his hand and the colors of his vest and highlights in his hair changed to match her dress. He cleared his throat as he made his way to her. "You look stunning," he reassured her as he offered her his arm. "May I?"
"You may," the mortal smiled. "You look positively handsome yourself," Sarah admitted as she eyed him head to toe.
"What other way to greet a queen than in one's finest," he smiled. "I thought we'd begin with a nice horseback ride. You're welcome to ride side saddle with me upon Stardust. Otherwise you may saddle your own horse, but it would be a pity were it necessary for you to change your clothes."
"So things are working out well for you and Stardust then?"
"So they are. I owe that to you."
Clutching his arm, they walked toward the stairs, descending them like stepping down from clouds and made their way out the front door. From a sitting room window Arulan looked on, happy they'd found their way to one another and continually amazed that fate had allowed it.
Stardust stood ready by the fence, as eager for the outting as either rider. The closer they drew, the more his hooves rose high, the more he pranced for show before them. "Perhaps a ride isn't such a fine idea after all," Jareth professed. The eager whinny of the horse disagreed with him as a child denied a visit to a park might. Unhitching the fence, he guided Stardust out. "Would I deny you what I had promised he whispered to the sleek animal.
"You've made a puppy of him," Sarah laughed at the way he so easily managed what not long ago, had been a wild animal. "Nothing but a puppy." The horse snorted at her insult.
"Not quite love, I've but unleashed the playful companion beaten deep into his soul by a cruel and unforgiving world. You best of all should know what it is to be made a product of one's surroundings." The king put out a hand to her. She genuflected as she took it. When he drew his woman into his arms, he effortlessly lifted her high onto his steed's back. As if she had always been able to fly, she glided onto the animal and set down upon it like a kiss of the breeze. Jareth mounted the animal in a quick and graceful swoop, snugly behind Sarah, his glove stroked her cheek, pressing her head against his chest. Her arms fell about his waist and hung around him loosely. Closing her eyes she waited for Jareth's heels to dig in and send the horse off in a trot.
Stardust's stride was gentle, though not as stately or smooth as Bagheera's had been, but he gave a pleasant ride. So pleasant in fact, the rocking lulled her into some half state between wake and sleep. When again the mortal's eyes opened wide, it was at the sound of water rolling over rock. Her ears had told her enough that her eyes meant only to confirm. Their journey had taken them to the Northwest. "Are we to have a picnic here?"
"No," Jareth smiled down upon her. We shall ride on a bit further, unless milady is hungry now?"
"Not at all, if it is in your plan to ride on, then ride on." Sarah settled back against him. Jareth stroked her long hair, held back from her face by a fine braid led from either side of her temple.
The familiar strum of a guitar roused her the second time, curiosity widening her eyes. The bard they'd met months earlier, in this very spot, stood playing his face enlightened by a cheerful grin. Jareth's horse halted before the player of the instrument. "Do you recall the last time we were here? Do you remember how we sang?" Jareth whispered into Sarah's ear.
"Come now, for so long I have committed every word, every look you send my way to memory. Would it be at all like me to not recall our first dance?" she asked from behind fluttering eyes.
Jareth chuckled, "If only it had been our first, surely our first dance has not escaped this fine memory of which you speak."
"But it was our first," she went on insistently.
From beneath the jacket he wore he drew a crystal and spun it before her. The image of the silver white ball gown made her blush. "Yes, well that doesn't count. It was a dance done as part of a grand illusion."
"But you acknowledge it a dance."
"I suppose I won't make an issue of it, if you call it a dance, a dance it shall be." She kissed him quickly. "Allow me to rephrase. For so long now I have made my best effort to memorize our exchanges, that I would be remiss to recall our second dance which occurred on this very spot.
"Of course dear," Jareth slid from the back of the horse. "Lucky for me you so vividly recollect that which escapes me constantly." The king's smile was as wicked as it was charming. He then addressed the bard. "Good man, what happy circumstances make it that we might run into you this fine day?"
"You're invitation, my lord," the man replied honestly. Jareth let out a groan at his reply, but it seemed his frustration only pleased Sarah more.
Jareth cleared his throat, "Do you sleep in quietude? Do you wake in peace? Do you laugh out loud at me?" Ironically it was just then Sarah lost her battle to hold back a tiny giggle. "No one else is free. Open up your heart to me," he sang from beneath her. His arms spread wide ready to help her descend from horseback. As Sarah slid into his firm grasp, the king continued his melody. "Show me all you are and I would be your slave." As the tempo increased, she found herself turned and spun in time. "I don't sit and wait. I don't give a damn. I don't see the point at all, no footsteps in the sand." Her smile was wide when Jareth pulled her close once more. "I bet you laugh out loud at me, a chance to strike me down. Give me peace of mind at last. Show me all you are. Open up your heart to me." Jareth whispered huskily into her ear, "And as I told you long ago," his voice returned to it's powerful notes of song, "I would be your slave."
On they danced to their accompaniment. "Much better than that fear me, do as I say business," Sarah smiled into his neck.
"Are you certain this is what you wish for the rest of what will hopefully be an obscenely long life?" Jareth asked. Sarah remained still and quiet in his arms. "I only ask because you seemed to take great care in coming to the conclusion that you loved me. And since have fought so hard to stay here with me. It would put my mind at ease to hear from your lips that this journey we're about to take is the result of your true love for me and not a result of being told you could not accomplish all you have."
She looked at him with quivering lips. "It hurts me you would question my love." Jareth looked away, embarrassed. "And yet, I understand why you should ask. It took me great time to verbalize my feeling for you, but long before I said the words I knew them." Sarah's lips lifted up to his, kissing him firmly and with as much passion as the notes of her melody.
"Perhaps I should question you more often," he chided. Sarah butted her shoulder against the king's chest. Jareth handed the bard a mix of gold coins, thanked him for his time and returned to Sarah's side. "Walk with me?" he asked. Sarah fed her arm through his and followed where he led.
They were headed back the way they'd come, toward the waterfall. Tiny lights seemed to fill the air and Sarah pulled Jareth off the path. "Fairies!" she cried excitedly. "Oh Jareth, let's not disturb them."
"Those are not fairies," he assured her. "Let us get closer and discover just what it is."
The closer they came, the more apparent it was, especially so once night aided them by beginning to fall. Sarah's fairies were no more than an elaborate candle garden set in sand in the middle of a set table. All of Jareth's stealthy accomplices had made themselves scarce, leaving behind only the table, the meal and a bottle of champagne as evidence of their existence. His setting was at the head, hers to his left, same as it was at the castle, in the center of the table a large bundle of flowers filled a silver urn, the surface of which had been polished to a brilliant shine so that it threw around the reflection of the flames and made them seem twice the number. A beautiful halo of white heather surrounded a nestling of honeysuckle. As with all things in the Labyrinth, they came with a double meaning, the heather said their dreams would come true and the honeysuckle told of the wedding to follow.
Pulling out Sarah's chair, Jareth invited his mortal to join him for dinner. Sarah took her seat and turning to join her, the king wove his hand, dismissing Stardust who went around to the far side of the falls to drink. Then he poured them two flutes of champagne to drink with the dish which awaited them beneath the silver domes. There was a stuffed turkey breast, the stuffing made with cinnamon and apples. Potatoes au gratin and a mix of vegetables; squash, peas, carrots, corn accompanied the main dish Jareth rose his glass. Sarah followed suit. "To our marriage," he toasted attempting to show his respect for her customs.
"To our union," Sarah toasted back doing her best to show the same.
"Do you prefer we have a typical union ceremony," he asked as they began to dine.
Shrugging Sarah admitted, "Honestly I couldn't say. I know nothing of the Underground union ceremony to use as a frame of reference."
"I'd have thought you'd have read up on that by now." Without saying a thing, Sarah's eyes told him he was mistaken. "Right, well it's similar to Aboveground marriage I suppose. You will meet me at the Rowan tree. The Cleric will ask for objections to our union, anyone who objects will be dismembered," Sarah gasped, "kidding love. I'm king, no one will be given the chance to object to the woman I have chosen. There are vows, although they are less emotional than the ones you're probably used to hearing. We will vow to live together, commit to one another and in our case, swear that our actions will always be taken in a matter complimentary to the Underground."
"What do you mean in our case?" Sarah asked between bites of turkey.
Sipping his champagne before he replied brought him only superficial bravery. "The vows with respect to having children will be omitted from our ceremony." Silence filled the space between them, until at last the king suggested, "We could easily combine aspects of the two if that is more acceptable to you." Sarah nodded, refusing to break her silence. "Sarah," his gloved hand covered hers, "This is a time when we should be thinking thoughts of exceptional happiness, not dwelling on a decision made for us by thousand year old elders who would as soon leave us to believe it was our choice."
Looking at it that way certainly alleviated much of her self loathing over agreeing to their demand. "I like the idea of no one being able to object," she smiled, "but perhaps something a bit more personal for vows would be in order."
"After the vows, we'll toast once to each other, then with the Cleric. Were any of our parents able to attend, we would toast with them as well, but in our case, just the two toasts." He could see her growing solemn. "Then you'll be expected to walk on your hands backwards toward the castle while I juggle three flaming goblins."
"Jareth," she moaned and shied away, knowing he was kidding her, trying to tease away her worries.
"Just checking," he confirmed. "But pretty much the toast is the end of it. The couple goes home and has their wedding night. The next day they sit in their courtyard and are greeted by a large number of their friends, families and well wishers. Everyone brings a gift, even the poorest among us, do what they can to express their pleasure at the union. They bake foods to keep the couple from having to spend their newlywed period in the kitchen frivolously. They write songs, or bring live stock, rich fabrics for decorating, fine sculpture, some token."
"I think I see," Sarah told him. "We do something similar only we do it the same day as the wedding, the reception follows immediately afterward."
"But is the couple not preoccupied with thoughts of being together?"
"I'm sure they are," she agreed, "but they press on."
"Brave souls," he muttered just loud enough for Sarah to hear. "Perhaps you're right, a combination is the best way." The king took a long sip on his champagne, then began make a chewing motion.
"Ice? In champagne?" Sarah asked.
Jareth nodded, "I prefer cold beverages." His glove hurried up to his lips and he moaned, "Oooow!"
"What's the matter?" Sarah said concerned, her hands instinctively moving for him.
His palm shown open, blocking her, forcing her back into her chair. "It's nothing," he shook off the pain. "Someone's just gone and covered this diamond..." By now his voice lost the tremor which spoke his pain and his warding palms now faced skyward. Into his hand he spit the offending object "...in gold," he concluded. Sarah stared into his hand, curious as to what he was going on about. When Jareth became aware that he had captured her complete attention, he slid from his seat, dropping to one knee before her, the gold encrusted diamond perched between his fingers. The mortal drew a breath. "Sarah Williams," he began. The mortal swallowed hard, clearing her mouth of the last of a bit of stuffing she'd been chewing. "I have loved you from the moment you existed. You are like no other woman of any kind in any world with which I am familiar, and you have won my heart with yours. Fulfill my foolish hopes, bring my dreams into reality and tell me that I may win your hand."
What he offered her was a magnificent princess cut diamond in a high setting. It caught and reflected light from the candle flames as he twisted it only subtly in his fingers. It had to have been two karats. It was certainly larger than one, but having never seen anything of a non-costume variety, she had no basis for comparison. This explained the way he'd guided the conversation to encompass their traditions. Jareth had said the finest things, not only had he spoken from his heart, but he had spoken deeper, spoken with his actions. In planning this, by bringing her here, he was more than saying he wanted to unite with her. The king told of unconditional acceptance, for who she was as well as what. Sarah knew that when she took his token, it meant the Underground would be not just be open to her as a home, but ready for her touches. A mortal mark would be made in his world. A change their meant to reflect the change she had made in him.
Tears blocked her vision. "I'm such a fool," she laughed, wiping them away. "All this time, I've known, known you intended for me to be your life's companion and yet, seeing you there, realizing what effort you've put into this and I'm a mess with these tears."
"I shall cry my own if you don't soon accept," he told her, nerves filling his face at her hesitation.
Fingers found the accents of his blonde hair and traced them tenderly. "I've already refused you once. I don't intend to do it again."
From behind the rock structure that comprised the base of the fall, several onlookers appeared. Sarah recognized their voices before she saw their faces. "Is that a yes?" they asked simultaneously, Arulan, Deverell, Gribbin, Hoggle, and a collection of members from the kitchen staff.
"I can't bloody well tell," Jareth grumbled back over his shoulder.
His eyes pleaded up at hers and a giddy joy replaced her tears. "Yes!" she cried. Turning her head toward their audience, she repeated more loudly and with great clarity, "Yes!" Jareth slid the ring onto the third finger of her left hand, having done his research where this custom were concerned, and scooped her up. His lips covered hers in tenderness that switched to need as he thought about her saying no now, after all this time.
Cheers erupted from behind the rocks, even Stardust whinnied merrily. "For the love of the Underground," Jareth said exasperated, "I don't think I've ever felt as much fear as when I thought you might have changed your mind." He held her head firmly between his hands, their foreheads touching.
"I could never say no to you," she told him covering his hands with her own.
Jareth raised an eyebrow. "There was that one time," he reminded her.
"Didn't I tell you earlier the first time doesn't count." The king thought back to their earlier conversation and roared with laughter as he lifted her high above his head and spun her around. "Yes," she repeated to their merry crowd of onlookers which seemed to crow and had begun to include the creatures of the wood as well. "A thousand times my answer is yes. I will be your wife. I will be your queen."
Friction of body passing over body, kept the mortal's descent slow. A half smile played on Jareth's lips. Meant for only her to hear, he leaned in close to her and whispered, "When I pledge my love to you Sarah, I pledge myself to you forever, quite literally."
Sarah's lip curled and she shrugged with her brow, "It's only forever, right?"
Her head fit comfortably beneath her chin, "I suppose, love. I suppose"
