The Labyrinth: The Way Back
Author: Aviry Nolane
Rating: PG thus far
Summary: Sometimes the way forward is the way back... To the aboveground. A
courtly decision is made on Jareth`s behalf and he is forced to protect the
one he loves... Or hates... Or loves... Or doesn`t quite like, but doesn`t
really *not* approve of anyway, to keep his position. But that`s beside the
point. After as many twists and turns (possibly as many as the Labyrinth
itself) will these two manage to crash into each other? And what of the
threat of war? And courtly politics? And Jareth`s family? And my GOODNESS
the skeletons in the closet!
Keywords: J/S?
Notes: This Chapter dedicated to Redaura, Solea, JLF, and HorseBabe
Thanks guys!
Chapter 15 - Visitors at the Shangri-La
Sarah felt the footsteps before she heard them. She couldn't explain it, but she knew that there was something coming, could feel its presence moving down the hall, before she even heard the light tapping outside the door.
One could call it magical, intriguing, mysterious even.
Sarah was just plain freaked out.
She gave a light involuntary shudder before she slipped the bedding from her form. She really, really, had a very strong dislike for this room. And once she had discovered her 'prince charming' had locked her in, it only made her discomfort grow.
It seemed to patronize her silently, the ominous lurking of the tapestries, half hidden behind the thick folds of dangerous looking silken throws, the embroidered faces of the men and animals seemingly plotting her demise in the chilling half candlelight. There were so many rugs under her that she felt they positively must have been concealing something. She had the sinking feeling that if she were to remove one, the whole of the floor would open beneath her and she would be lost to it.
All of that coupled with the fact that she was in the home of the Goblin King left a very bad taste in her mouth.
She was alert. She was cautious. She was prepared.
She at once found herself reciting what seemed to have become her mantra. "I am calm. I am relaxed. I am perfectly sane. I am not in a room full of evil rugs and sinister wall hangings. There is no Underground. And there is certainly no Goblin - Oooh."
Again, she stopped herself.
She didn't him to think she was inviting him anywhere, especially not in this sad excuse for a murderous burlesque house.
Even though he didn't exist.
Sarah was very confused.
"I'm asleep." She gasped. "I am asleep, and I am perfectly calm."
Call it a defense mechanism, but she made no move to pinch herself. She was alert. She was cautious. She was prepared, after all.
At least that's what she told herself.
Actually, she seemed rather paranoid.
Isn't that what he wanted anyway? Sarah snorted. Who I cared /I what he wanted?
Mr. Smooth talking Goblin King was getting nowhere near her good side. "What does he think," Sarah said aloud to herself, "he can just kidnap me to some castle, I which doesn't even exist /I," she reminded herself, "tell me I'm going to be killed, or marry him, and then lock me in some hideous representation of a romance novel gone horribly, horribly wrong?"
It seemed Sarah had shed some light on the finer points of her situation.
She had long since noticed that the room she now inhabited was the same room depicted in Damien's Jewel, the novelette she had been reading in bed the night Jareth first paid her a visit.
However, it was a grotesque depiction at best. Yes there were murals, there were tapestries, there were rugs galore, silken throws, window chimes, seemingly hundreds of candles, and yet. it all seemed so distastefully phony. The largest tapestry was the greatest example Sarah could note. An enlarged version of the book cover, yet where the scantily clad blonde heroine had stood, clinging to the knights shield, a darker woman had been imposed, hair and eyes like Sarah's, yes, but no less scantily clad. She had also noticed the distinct similarities between "Damien" and Jareth. Funny, she didn't remember Damien being that blonde. Or that thin.
"What is this?" She wondered, "the Medieval fantasy room at the Shangri- La?"
So why was she feeling like she was trapped inside some filthy room at a hotel that charged by the hour, when she was locked inside the bedchamber of a king's castle?
The king's identity withstanding, of course.
Sarah had the distinct feeling that she was trapped under a mound of garbage again, just as she had been when she was a girl, and everything in this room was simply an exaggerated version of a simple idea.
But then again, Jareth had never occurred to Sarah's mind as being a simple idea. In fact, he was the very essence of contradiction. He was beautiful, that much Sarah admitted to, yet his ways were so ugly. His status was refined but his manner coarse and haughty, his power was great, yet sometimes to her, he seemed very weak.
Like when she had beaten him. Or when he had let her win, so he said, or whatever the case was.
Sarah was very confused.
Not that she had thought of this at all in the last several hours she had huddled under her bedcovers.
Not at all.
Her anger had faded hours before, and while she was no philosopher, but she was a brainy young woman on the cusp of sanity. For the life of her she had been trying to sort things out, to make sense of any part of her predicament.
The list was long and involved, and she had given a good deal of thought to each question.
What did he want? What did she want? Would she really have to marry him? Was there a way to avoid death in either scenario? What exactly started all this in the first place? If she married him, could she just go home? Why did he say he had "let her win?" Why this room? Was everything he said a lie, or just most of it? Who did his hair? And most importantly, to her twenty-something mind, Why had he kissed her the night before they left?
After hours of internal debate, Sarah had answered only one of these questions.
"I want to go home," she said to no one.
The tapping outside the door drew closer, and Sarah slipped off the bed carefully, lest there be some craftily concealed goblin reaching for her ankles under the bed.
Who could blame her really, after an experience like hers she had never really gotten over the "Mommy, there's a monster under my bed," phase, and was thus emotionally stunted.
The footfall drew closer. Sarah's gaze narrowed, the old rage burning within her, newly alight with her unanswered questions. Yes, she was going to get to the bottom of them all, alright. And she was doing it right now or so help her --
By the time the light knock at the door had sounded, Sarah had already begun to poke at the panel. She had no way to open it, as it remained firmly locked, "Come in," she commanded, standing her ground.
She mentally groped at the first question she was going to throw at him when he walked through the door. She had no intention of being shipped off to some tower before she could get a full sentence out.
Men.
Well, Jareth anyway.
She had decided to start with why she had ended up inside a Women's Entertainment Movie of the Week bedroom, and move quickly along to if everything he said was pure fabrication, or just most of it, and move down the line from there, when the door swung open.
Sarah's face fell.
She could tell right away that she was getting no answers from him tonight.
The figure stepped into the room, "hello, I'm Nelly."
The woman smiled brightly and Sarah found herself wanting to lie down, curl up, and shred mental pictures of her captor until he found the presence of mind to come here himself.
Notes: This Chapter dedicated to Redaura, Solea, JLF, and HorseBabe
Thanks guys!
Chapter 15 - Visitors at the Shangri-La
Sarah felt the footsteps before she heard them. She couldn't explain it, but she knew that there was something coming, could feel its presence moving down the hall, before she even heard the light tapping outside the door.
One could call it magical, intriguing, mysterious even.
Sarah was just plain freaked out.
She gave a light involuntary shudder before she slipped the bedding from her form. She really, really, had a very strong dislike for this room. And once she had discovered her 'prince charming' had locked her in, it only made her discomfort grow.
It seemed to patronize her silently, the ominous lurking of the tapestries, half hidden behind the thick folds of dangerous looking silken throws, the embroidered faces of the men and animals seemingly plotting her demise in the chilling half candlelight. There were so many rugs under her that she felt they positively must have been concealing something. She had the sinking feeling that if she were to remove one, the whole of the floor would open beneath her and she would be lost to it.
All of that coupled with the fact that she was in the home of the Goblin King left a very bad taste in her mouth.
She was alert. She was cautious. She was prepared.
She at once found herself reciting what seemed to have become her mantra. "I am calm. I am relaxed. I am perfectly sane. I am not in a room full of evil rugs and sinister wall hangings. There is no Underground. And there is certainly no Goblin - Oooh."
Again, she stopped herself.
She didn't him to think she was inviting him anywhere, especially not in this sad excuse for a murderous burlesque house.
Even though he didn't exist.
Sarah was very confused.
"I'm asleep." She gasped. "I am asleep, and I am perfectly calm."
Call it a defense mechanism, but she made no move to pinch herself. She was alert. She was cautious. She was prepared, after all.
At least that's what she told herself.
Actually, she seemed rather paranoid.
Isn't that what he wanted anyway? Sarah snorted. Who I cared /I what he wanted?
Mr. Smooth talking Goblin King was getting nowhere near her good side. "What does he think," Sarah said aloud to herself, "he can just kidnap me to some castle, I which doesn't even exist /I," she reminded herself, "tell me I'm going to be killed, or marry him, and then lock me in some hideous representation of a romance novel gone horribly, horribly wrong?"
It seemed Sarah had shed some light on the finer points of her situation.
She had long since noticed that the room she now inhabited was the same room depicted in Damien's Jewel, the novelette she had been reading in bed the night Jareth first paid her a visit.
However, it was a grotesque depiction at best. Yes there were murals, there were tapestries, there were rugs galore, silken throws, window chimes, seemingly hundreds of candles, and yet. it all seemed so distastefully phony. The largest tapestry was the greatest example Sarah could note. An enlarged version of the book cover, yet where the scantily clad blonde heroine had stood, clinging to the knights shield, a darker woman had been imposed, hair and eyes like Sarah's, yes, but no less scantily clad. She had also noticed the distinct similarities between "Damien" and Jareth. Funny, she didn't remember Damien being that blonde. Or that thin.
"What is this?" She wondered, "the Medieval fantasy room at the Shangri- La?"
So why was she feeling like she was trapped inside some filthy room at a hotel that charged by the hour, when she was locked inside the bedchamber of a king's castle?
The king's identity withstanding, of course.
Sarah had the distinct feeling that she was trapped under a mound of garbage again, just as she had been when she was a girl, and everything in this room was simply an exaggerated version of a simple idea.
But then again, Jareth had never occurred to Sarah's mind as being a simple idea. In fact, he was the very essence of contradiction. He was beautiful, that much Sarah admitted to, yet his ways were so ugly. His status was refined but his manner coarse and haughty, his power was great, yet sometimes to her, he seemed very weak.
Like when she had beaten him. Or when he had let her win, so he said, or whatever the case was.
Sarah was very confused.
Not that she had thought of this at all in the last several hours she had huddled under her bedcovers.
Not at all.
Her anger had faded hours before, and while she was no philosopher, but she was a brainy young woman on the cusp of sanity. For the life of her she had been trying to sort things out, to make sense of any part of her predicament.
The list was long and involved, and she had given a good deal of thought to each question.
What did he want? What did she want? Would she really have to marry him? Was there a way to avoid death in either scenario? What exactly started all this in the first place? If she married him, could she just go home? Why did he say he had "let her win?" Why this room? Was everything he said a lie, or just most of it? Who did his hair? And most importantly, to her twenty-something mind, Why had he kissed her the night before they left?
After hours of internal debate, Sarah had answered only one of these questions.
"I want to go home," she said to no one.
The tapping outside the door drew closer, and Sarah slipped off the bed carefully, lest there be some craftily concealed goblin reaching for her ankles under the bed.
Who could blame her really, after an experience like hers she had never really gotten over the "Mommy, there's a monster under my bed," phase, and was thus emotionally stunted.
The footfall drew closer. Sarah's gaze narrowed, the old rage burning within her, newly alight with her unanswered questions. Yes, she was going to get to the bottom of them all, alright. And she was doing it right now or so help her --
By the time the light knock at the door had sounded, Sarah had already begun to poke at the panel. She had no way to open it, as it remained firmly locked, "Come in," she commanded, standing her ground.
She mentally groped at the first question she was going to throw at him when he walked through the door. She had no intention of being shipped off to some tower before she could get a full sentence out.
Men.
Well, Jareth anyway.
She had decided to start with why she had ended up inside a Women's Entertainment Movie of the Week bedroom, and move quickly along to if everything he said was pure fabrication, or just most of it, and move down the line from there, when the door swung open.
Sarah's face fell.
She could tell right away that she was getting no answers from him tonight.
The figure stepped into the room, "hello, I'm Nelly."
The woman smiled brightly and Sarah found herself wanting to lie down, curl up, and shred mental pictures of her captor until he found the presence of mind to come here himself.
