A/N- I know, I know...I'm definitely late with this one haha. To skirt the blame, both my beta and back up beta were super busy with work this month, so I've just been sitting on this chapter for several weeks. Alas, she is here, for your reading pleasure...
Chapter 5, Reconciliation
The next day passed fairly quickly. The rock of the boat, along with Sarah's minor stupor, had made for a rather heavy night's sleep that endured until almost noon. When she finally woke, it was due to a harsh beam of light that was glaring at her through the window. She winced and shielded herself from it before sitting up.
She blinked slowly and ran her tongue against the roof of her mouth. It felt cottony. She needed water...and a toothbrush.
With a bit of a groan, she stretched her arms and stood, poured herself a glass of water and downed it in a couple of gulps. She sighed and looked around for a clock. There wasn't one, but she could hear the sound of the crew well at work just outside her door. She dug in her backpack for her toothbrush and toothpaste. At least she'd remembered to pack proper toiletries.
When she exited her cabin, she was wearing a fresh t-shirt and jeans-which felt so much more comfortable to her than that dress. She moved onto the deck, smiling and greeting all the men she'd met the previous night.
"Good morning, My Lady."
"Good day!"
"Good morning, lass. Did you sleep well?"
It still surprised her just how pleasant and polite all these sailors were. Was she expecting them to be scallywags? Pirates? Lechers riddled with scurvy? She felt stupid then, realizing she was the one holding the most prejudices. None of them had even acknowledged the fact that she was human. Why did that seem so odd to her?
"Ah, you're finally awake." Sarah turned and looked up at Lochlan who, at some point, had come to stand by her side.
"Yeah...it seems kind of late. What time is it?" she asked. Lochlan pulled back his sleeve to reveal a very fancy-looking watch.
"Just past noon. I was thinking of checking in on you before too much longer, actually."
"Holy. Noon? Wow. I don't think I've slept in that late in...years," she said, scratching her head awkwardly as she stretched her neck. Again, waking up another day in the Underground had her feeling great and something more than well-rested. Would this feeling continue to grow indefinitely?
"So you slept well then? We hit a surge during the night. Made the waters a bit choppy. It didn't disturb you, did it?"
"Huh? No. Not at all. I slept like a rock," she said, smiling and waving at another deckhand who walked by.
"You've made quite an impression on the crew," Lochlan said, his tone vague but with enough inflection to have her peering back at him shrewdly.
"So it seems," she replied, with a ghostly little smile. Lochlan grinned and tilted his head at her.
"What are you wearing? Did the General not provide you with a new dress for today?"
Sarah blinked and looked over herself.
"Yeah...he did. I just...feel better wearing my own clothes. As you keep reminding me, I may not get to wear them for much longer, so…" Her voice trailed off and she pursed her lips. He wasn't about to try and tell her to change her clothes, was he?
"I see...is that what you plan to wear when you meet with His Highness?"
Sarah blinked again.
"Is that alright?" she countered, testing the waters. Lochlan huffed and brought a hand to his hip.
"I suppose. If it makes you feel more comfortable. Though, like you said, should you come to stay here you'll need to dress the part."
"Understood," Sarah said, giving him a sharp salute as her eyes roamed away.
"Ah, Lord Leche! Is that our mysterious guest I see?"
Sarah turned and looked up, her eyes trailing the stairs to find the source of the voice that had called out to them. There was a man descending - older - with a grey-peppered beard and a wide-brimmed, navy blue coat. Lochlan turned as well and took a step closer to Sarah.
"Indeed Captain! Seems our sleeping beauty here has finally returned to life," he said, shooting her a teasing side-eye as he spoke. Sarah narrowed her eyes but bit her tongue. The Captain came off the last step and moved to stand in front of them. He was wearing a tattered black hat, and removed it as he bowed low before her.
"Ah, so sleeping was she? And here I feared my crew had put her off for company," he said, holding his hat to his chest as he straightened and looked her square in the eye. "I am Captain Pomona of His Majesty's Royal Navy. Pleasure to meet you, My Lady."
Sarah nodded her head but contended whether or not to add a curtsy. Since she was wearing jeans, she opted not to.
"The pleasure is mine, Captain," she said, eyeing him as he situated his hat back atop his head.
"I apologize for greeting you so late into our voyage. I had intended to invite you and Lord Leche to dine with me in my chambers last evening, though I was told you'd already chosen to entertain the crew in the galley."
Sarah's eyes widened subtly as he said that, wondering if there was any nuance to his use of the word entertain.
"Oh...forgive me, Captain. I'm not familiar with the customs here. Was it inappropriate for me to do so?" she asked, masking her worry with just enough tact. Lochlan spied on her with amusement. Hm, it must have been the alcohol that gave her such disregard the previous night.
"Inappropriate? Of course not! A fine lady such as yourself choosing to venture down into the depths of my humble vessel and make merry with my men? I should be thanking you. Just look at the boost in morale you've given them!" he said, smiling widely and gesturing about the ship. Sarah felt her cheeks blush a little, suddenly self-conscious of all the hi's and hello's she'd been receiving. "Most of the women we ferry never leave their cabin. T'is a bit depressing, really. I hear you even won the pot!"
Sarah forced a chuckle and raised an awkward hand to the back of her head.
"Heh...yeah. I think they let me win though. It was all in good fun."
"Indeed," he said, with a smile. With hands on hips, he inhaled deeply and turned to look over their surroundings. "I believe we'll be arriving at port well before nightfall, so I'm sad to say I shall miss another opportunity to dine with you. But feel free to check in with the first mate should you need anything at all," he said. Sarah blinked, sensing a subtle dismissive air about him. Apparently their conversation was at its end.
"I will. Thank you, Captain," she replied, with a nod.
"Lord Leche."
"Captain." Lochlan bowed his head and watched as the Captain left them. Sarah stood quietly, again surprised by the lack of differing social nuance between their two peoples.
"He seems nice," she muttered. Lochlan turned, looking out over the deck.
"Mhm."
"Actually, everyone seems nice. It's a little suspicious really."
"Why do you say that?"
Sarah took a step or two into the sun, tilting her head back in Lochlan's direction for discretion.
"Your species' reputation precedes you in my world. You're not exactly known for being kind, let alone sincere."
Lochlan smiled and crossed his arms behind his back as he stepped in line with her.
"What are we known as?" he asked, impishly. Sarah peered up at him and narrowed her eyes.
"Tricksters."
His grin cracked to reveal a hint of fang, though he only shrugged.
"Hm...I suppose the same could be said for your species in my world."
"Really?"
"Of course," he said, and moved around to stand in front of her. "Here, our legends render humans as boorish, violent, untrustworthy things. I know a few of your stories...if our contracts became scrupulous and manipulative, it is only because your people kept finding ways of betraying them. So you see, your kind, like mine, is known least of all for their sincerity. But...as we stand here now, I'd say a story is but a story. Would you agree?" He was smiling at her, leaning down towards her playfully. A couple locks of curly black hair fell over his forehead. He was very handsome, admittedly; though lacking, by all account, the venereal intensity she remembered of Jareth.
"Yeah...you're right. I think my expectations about this place have been...skewed," she said, darting her eyes away as he straightened.
"Not without good reason, I imagine."
"You imagine right."
The remainder of the day passed with a quiet sense of unease for Sarah as they drew closer and closer to their destination. This build up was killing her, and she could only hope the apex of their journey would be as anticlimactic as possible. It was impossible not to think about. Not to imagine. What the hell was she supposed to say to him? Would he even agree to see her?
She kept herself distracted well enough by conversing with the crew. She learned that ferrying supplies to the island was their permanent posting, which only sailed out every three weeks and made for a rather boring career. Their general good health now made sense to her, along with why they kept repeating how exciting her presence onboard was. They were decent folk, she determined, and thought maybe it might be worthwhile to establish a real relationship with them. Maybe they could sneak her special treats from the mainland.
It was about six o'clock when she retired to her cabin. She'd rested for a while thereafter, but now she was starving. She dug through her bag and nearly whimpered at the single bag of chips that remained. She'd forgotten, stupidly, that before going to bed the previous night, her (maybe actually genuinely a little bit drunk) self had binge-eaten the remainder of her food. Damn it. Oh well. With any luck, she would be stepping back on board within just a few hours and heading home. That's when her hand paused before zipping up her bag. If it was a four day journey to get here...would she have to starve for the four day journey back?
She was startled by a knock at her door. She turned back and ushered them in.
"Come in!"
Lochlan entered the room, leaning inside the door frame without stepping in fully.
"Prepare yourself, dear. We're here."
Not realizing just how long her catnap had been, Sarah grabbed her bag and headed out onto the deck with surprise. Lochlan was standing just outside the door, waiting to close it behind her, like a gentleman, while she ignored him completely to take in the sight.
She saw a beach, not as close as she'd expected, and a small run-down excuse for a "port". A dock was all it was, really - uneven, faded planks that stretched out into the water towards them. Her eyes looked beyond it, beyond the beach and the brush, to a place that left her stricken with both awe and terror. The memories came, wildly vivid, along with a knot that turned over in her stomach. Dust floated in the breeze, over hill and dale, and chiseled blocks. Tall walls and obelisks, broken columns, and a path that led, twistedly, dauntingly, through the foreboding shadow of the Labyrinth.
Lochlan watched as recognition hit and unnerved her, as her mouth opened, and dried, and then closed shut again. What he wouldn't give to know her thoughts at that very moment.
"Are you alright?" he asked. Sarah flinched, caught up in her gander, and then turned her wide gaze to him.
"Y-yeah. I'm fine. It's just...finally hitting me, I guess. I never...thought I would see this place again." Her voice was soft, subdued. Lochlan's expression softened as her eyes quickly darted away from him and went back to the scene. She could see the castle far off, small, and standing seemingly unimposing atop a hill that surveyed all. She remembered the first time she'd gazed upon it. Remembered how unimpressed she had been. The feeling was different now. The awareness she now had was of a caliber a child was simply incapable of understanding. She was no longer a child. This was not a game. She was not fighting to save anyone. Not even herself. This place was dangerous. This man was dangerous. And she was heading, with open eyes, straight for him.
The ship docked within another twenty minutes. The deckhands bustled about with focus, leaving Sarah to stand awkwardly at the sidelines. Something she hadn't seen right away was a carriage house hidden in the trees just to the left of the pier. As they came nearer, several carts and carriages with their drivers emerged to await them. The planks of the boarding ramp were lowered, and no sooner were the crew unloading all of their wares to the custody of the convoy below.
"Are you about ready?" Lochlan asked. Sarah had been dazed for a while now, but blinked herself from it readily.
"Yeah. Let's go."
They dismounted the ship, much to the sad little smiles of the crew, and headed down the pier towards the procession of carriages. Lochlan took her to the center, to the only covered, decently-decorated one of the bunch. The fae on the island did not acknowledge her, and she could only assume it was because they'd experienced the inconsequential coming and going of women far too often.
The carriages and carts were not pulled by horses, but by strange woolly creatures with six legs and spiraled horns like a ram's. Sarah had never seen or imagined such things. Her wandering mind wondered if it would be okay to pet one.
Lochlan opened the door for her and ushered her in. He sat across from her and tied back the curtains on the windows so she could get a good view of her surroundings. Sarah placed her hands on the cushioned bench she sat on. It was covered in velvet, a faded red that had clearly seen better days. She ignored this observation, along with all the little nicks in the carvings and tears in the tasseled coverings of the canopy above.
"How long before we reach the castle?" she asked. Lochlan was leaning out a window, gesturing to someone on the outside.
"About an hour. We have an expedited route."
Sarah pursed her lips and lowered her eyes. She was starting to feel awkward -anticipation finally settling in. She heard the voice of a man outside their carriage say, "We're ready for departure, Lord Leche." Lochlan nodded and leaned back in his seat. Sarah furrowed her brow on him.
"So...what's the deal with all the pseudonyms anyway? Being introduced to people is starting to confuse me."
Lochlan looked up at her. There was a sternness to her words that betrayed her well-muted anxiety. She was trying to distract herself. He crossed an ankle over his knee and leaned back in his seat.
"Ah...well, firstly, they're not pseudonyms -mostly," he said, crossing his arms leisurely as he stared at her. "Our birth name is what holds power over us. That is the thing we must keep secret. Our surname is, generally, what most folk refer to themselves as, or a derivative of it."
"Oh. I see. So your last name is Leche?" she asked.
"Yes."
"But...what about the Captain? I thought the ship's name was Pomona."
"It is," he replied, falling forward a bit as the carriage jolted unexpectedly. Sarah caught herself as well. Guess they were off. "The Captain's name is an extension of his position. When it comes to more prominent military officials and aristocracy, it is often custom for their true names to be disregarded entirely and replaced with a standardized title -a pseudonym, as you said."
"I see. I guess that makes sense..."
"Yes. It is much safer that way," he continued, calling back her attention as it fell to her lap. "For instance, Their Majesties are often referred to as King Erewhon and Queen Erewhon. Through a bit of general mind-wiping, their real names are no longer known by anyone. Even by their son."
"Oh. Really?" Sarah asked, feeling surprised (a tad concerned over Lochlan's casual use of the phrase "mind-wiping"), and a little bit sad that Jareth didn't know his own parents' names. Then again...parents were usually referred to as Mom or Dad, so maybe it wasn't that big of a deal... "That's intense…" she continued. "So, Jare- I mean, His Royal Highness' public name is Prince Erewhon?"
"Exactly."
Sarah mirrored his posture by crossing her own arms and legs.
"Geez. If your names are so important, I'm surprised you told me yours so easily."
"Why wouldn't I? It was the only way for you to summon me."
She paused at his impartial tone.
"Yeah but…"
"Should I not trust you?" he interrupted, arching a brow as she frowned. "Come now, you're a human with no skill in magic. Even if your intentions were nefarious, you could do little more than summon me here or there. I'm not particularly concerned with that bit of intimacy," he explained, tossing a hand to and fro as he spoke. If he meant to bring her ease, he failed. A knitted brow joined her frown and her eyes lowered in contemplation.
Intimacy...it was intimate wasn't it? To know that about a fae. To know something about someone that so few knew...something that gave you literal power over them…hm. She worried over the reason she was given Jareth's name, why Jareth had given it to Hoggle at all.
"What if I told someone else? Someone who could do more than summon you?" she asked, pulling herself from distraction. Lochlan tilted his head, his expression blank.
"Will you?"
"...No."
"Well then?" Her disconcerted look contrasted perfectly to his open one. "Keeping one's name a secret is more common for those who are prone to inciting enemies, or those of a delicate social standing. I am neither of those things," he explained, feeling the need to help her. And now her head twitched in confusion
"You're a lord," she pointed out. Lochlan's eyes roamed away and he leaned forward a little.
"Yes...by title. However, I have no lands to ward over, no tithes to collect or tenants to manage. My parents were given a manor to live in, but nothing else. My station was bestowed by The King when he deemed me His Highness' retainer. There's little more to it than that."
"Oh. I see."
"Speaking of all this...may I ask how it is you came to know His Highness' name?" Sarah's gaze, which had likewise wandered off, sprang back to Lochlan's. He was staring at her curiously. "I was very much surprised to hear you speak it so casually. Did he offer it to you?"
"Hm? ...No. No." and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "One of the goblins mentioned it to me. Kind of in passing actually…"
"Really…"
"That's odd, isn't it?" she asked, her brow drawn tight as she observed Lochlan pinching his chin in thought. "If it's such a close-kept secret, how the hell did Hoggle -of all people- even know to begin with?"
Lochlan pondered a moment, then he shrugged.
"Perhaps His Highness wanted you to know his name."
"But why?"
There was defense in her voice, something Lochlan ignored.
"Why do you think?"
"So...I would summon him? ...I summoned him well enough before without his true name..." Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. "Why?"
"I don't know. Perhaps you'll get the chance to ask him."
She felt deflated by the passivity of his words. He was leaning forward, his elbows pressed to his thighs, and his hands were clasped together. Sarah fiddled her own hands in her lap as she glanced out the window. They were passing by trees, a young forest really. Sarah thought that odd, and then she realized just how much greenery had painted the island's landscape when she'd first viewed it from the boat. The terrain here seemed...different than she remembered. Was the desert on the other side?
"He...he asked me to stay, you know. After I solved the labyrinth. He wanted me to stay here." She kept her eyes on the trees, but she didn't need to see his expression to know that he was shocked.
"What?"
"I said no. Obviously. Should I be...worried about that?" She curled her fingers as she glanced back at him. He had straightened in his seat and was staring at her intently.
"You refused him and he let you go?" he asked, with a contrary sense of both bewilderment and alarm. Sarah's look of disconcertion returned.
"Yeah."
Lochlan's eyes flickered down, a peculiar thought falling into place, before rising back to hers with an accompanying shrug.
"...Then why would you be worried?"
Sarah pursed her lips and only hummed in response, mulling over the significance of his particular use of the word "let". She then brought her gaze back to the window, and leaned towards it to rest her jaw on the heel of her hand. There was definitely something odd about this forest. The species of the trees were unfamiliar to her, mostly dead, though with a few misplaced buds, and for the most part were growing straight out of the sand. She felt the carriage drawing to a halt, and peered out the window towards the head of the procession where she saw the very high outer wall of the labyrinth obstructing their path. There were banners hanging on either side, torn and faded. They featured the same sigil she'd seen at the garrison, only...somehow different.
She looked back when Lochlan suddenly leaned forward in his seat.
"Ah. We're at the wall already, I see. Pardon me for a moment," he said, and no sooner exited the carriage. She heard him move around the back of it to her side, and she leaned out the window to watch him as he walked the line of the caravan up to the wall. There were only four carts ahead of them, so she could observe his actions well.
There was an oddly carved block placed at eye-level within the wall. It looked like it had been recessed, with runes and markings foreign to her. She watched Lochlan pull something out of his coat, something round and darkly colored. Wordlessly, he placed it within the recess of the carving. Sarah's eyes widened as a steady rumble then began to course through the ground and the walls before them, and then opened to create a perfectly straight path cutting directly to the castle. Lochlan removed the object and placed it back in the confines of his coat's inner pocket, and then made his way back to their carriage.
He climbed in with a bit of a skip in his step, smoothing out the tail of his coat as he re-situated himself like nothing ever happened.
He knocked on the wall of the carriage twice and the procession started moving again.
"So um...what was that?" Sarah asked. Lochlan, not quite paying attention, peered over at her with a widened gaze.
"Oh. How rude of me," he said, smiling cheerfully. "I had to unlock the gate," he explained. Sarah's expression was left wholly unsatisfied.
"Um...care to explain a little further?"
Lochlan reached into his coat and withdrew the object he had used moments before. It was a stone, black, roughly shaped like that of a kidney bean. It was about the same size as his hand and, as she could tell by the way he was handling it, was somewhat heavy.
"This is a keystone," he said, tossing it up in the air and catching it again. "We use these to operate the labyrinth."
"Oh," she said, caught off guard. "I didn't know the labyrinth could be operated," she added. Lochlan nodded.
"Of course. We designed it after all. It wouldn't be very convenient to have to solve the damn thing every time we get a shipment of cabbages." He placed the rock back in his coat, which she now discerned had been weighted in that spot. She cocked her head to one side as she thought.
"Hm...why did you build it then? What's it for?" That was something she'd never really thought about. But now that she did, it was something that felt very odd to her. Lochlan raised a brow and glanced away.
"Well, I didn't build it. My people did. A very long time ago," he said, sounding somewhat distant. "It was...for defensive purposes." There was hesitation in his voice but Sarah failed to notice it. He was thankful, as it allowed him to move on from the subject. "I say, you may want to save some of these questions for His Highness. You'll run out of things to talk about," he deflected, cheekily. Sarah glanced at him with a disingenuous smirk.
"Uh-huh. I'm sure." As her eyes stared out the window, she realized the tessellating bricks of the labyrinth wall that guided them would not change, and so turned her attention away from it. "Speaking of...say we do have nothing to talk about and I'm sent on my merry way, is it really going to be another four days journey back? I ran out of food."
Lochlan's brow lifted but he stifled a laugh. Instead, he reached into a different pocket on his coat and pulled out a crystal.
"No, actually. Before bringing you to meet His Majesty, I informed him of our arrangement. He gave me a new crystal with enough power to send you directly home. Should it be warranted." Sarah grew more attentive as she stared at the crystal. That really was...generous of him.
"I see...how considerate."
"Yes. His Majesty is most magnanimous. So, you really have nothing to fret. Though I'm sure you're positively famished, I assure you will be dining on a proper meal tonight -in one world, or another."
Whether or not he'd meant that reassuringly, Sarah found her eyes glaring reflexively. One world or another. Hm…
The remainder of the ride was spent in idle chatter. Sarah tried, unsuccessfully, to distract herself by asking as many questions as she could. Lochlan obliged willingly, sensing her motivations, which made the time pass very quickly. And then, finally, their carriage came to an abrupt halt, sending her nearly falling into Lochlan, as a series of shouts were exchanged among the drivers. Oh shit. They were here. This was it. There really was no turning back.
Lochlan dismounted from the cabin of their carriage without reservation and turned to offer her a hand. She accepted and stepped down tentatively. She had no idea what to expect. No idea of their current surroundings.
They were under a covered pavilion, on a cobblestone path surrounding a loading/unloading bay that looped back to the road whence they came. Sarah took a few steps and stared all around. She couldn't see much. The ceiling was low and the surrounding walls of the labyrinth were high, leaving her to assume this was something like a backdoor into the place.
The native fae, and a few tall goblins, went about their work, unloading crates and barrels without sparing her a single glance. Lochlan, still holding onto her hand, gently brought her away and towards an open archway that led into the castle.
There was a bit of acoustics in the room, making their footsteps echo as they ventured away from the staff.
There were several halls and doors tangenting from this one space, including a door atop a short stairwell which Lochlan brought her to. He ushered her within and shut it quietly behind them.
"Where...where are we going? What's the game plan here exactly? I feel like we just snuck in," Sarah said, a bit sheepishly, as she scampered close to Lochlan's side. Lochlan peered down at her and grinned.
"That's because we have. I told you, Jareth is unaware of your visit. He may very well refuse you without even seeing you otherwise," he said. Sarah huffed. So apparently he was not so sure of this match after all? "The game plan, as it were, is to find him before he finds us."
He let go of her hand to open another door, and Sarah took the moment to observe the castle. It was as she remembered: large, grey, stone blocks that were precisely carved, and high walls with vaulted ceilings. It was a bit drafty, causing her to grip her biceps with her hands. There was very little adornment, save a rug here or a lonely table there.
She followed after Lochlan and kept quiet as they moved deeper into the castle. She knew it was large on the outside, but it was impossible to discern its limits from within. It felt like they'd walked for a long while, having yet to come across a single person. The silence was deafening. Like a vacuum.
"Is it normal for it to be so empty?" she asked, needing to break the silence.
"Yes. Down here at least. Only certain parts of the castle are in regular use," he explained. Sarah continued to glance around. That seemed...strange.
"Why?"
"There isn't enough staff to warrant its upkeep. I told you, His Highness resides here for research purposes. It is not a place to hold Court, nor entertain visitors." Sarah pursed her lips as she accepted his words. Gee, what a lifeless, boring place this seemed. She wondered about the goblins then, how they fit into all of this. Before she could ask, they rounded a corner and happened upon the first sign of life. There was a guard standing at the frame of a door. At least, she thought it was a guard. It was fully armoured and completely motionless. Maybe it was a prop. Lochlan stopped and addressed the suit. "Where is His Highness?"
The guard twitched into life, turned its head towards them, and bowed.
"In the drawing room on the twenty-third floor," he said, then straightened into his original stance. Sarah drew her brow. His mannerism seemed artificial, mechanical. Lochlan nodded in acknowledgement and turned to lead them down a different hallway.
"How...did he know that?" Sarah asked. They were going up stairs now, a lot of stairs.
"It is their job to know."
Sarah glared at the back of Lochlan's head at such a cryptic response, but said nothing. She felt...wrong. This felt wrong. Why the hell was she sneaking around?
After reaching what Lochlan had informed her was the twenty-third floor, they made their way to an area of the castle that was noticeably different. It was better decorated, featuring paintings and tapestries on the walls, rugs on the polished marble floors, and sturdy furniture adorned with fresh bouquets of otherworldly flowers. Even the lighting was different -oiled sconces instead of torches. He brought her to the end of a hallway which cut sharply left, though the space in front of them extended into something of an open lounge. The walls opposite her and to her right were lined with large, open bay windows. A rather ominous-looking door stood on the wall to the far left, the room it granted entrance to framed by the hallway adjacent to her. In the area before them, were a set of very fine chairs and a love-seat, a large, glass-topped coffee table nestled in the center. It was nicer than what she'd seen at the garrison. After her last experience in the castle, she was surprised.
Lochlan led her to the seating area and turned to face her.
"Wait here for a moment. It would probably be best for me to see him first." Sarah worried her brow at his sudden timidity. Like he was coddling her. She was even more worried over the fact that she needed it. She frowned and nodded, wordlessly. Lochlan held her gaze for another moment, and then sighed. "I know this is strange. Unprecedented. But please, be confident -as you have thus far." She nodded again and he turned away from her. She idled back as he went towards the door she had spied, tearing her eyes away from it as he knocked twice and then slipped inside.
Sarah teetered on her heels in bitter anticipation for what felt like ages. It was quiet. Dead quiet. She had no fucking idea what to do with herself. Against Lochlan's request, she moved away from her spot. She couldn't stand it any longer. If Jareth opened the door, the first thing he would see was her staring back and...she just could not handle the awkwardness. She left the lounge and paced at the edge of the hall. It was so quiet. Too fucking quiet. She was about to walk back towards the door when a sudden Boom! startled her clear out of her skin.
Sarah actually jumped, she was so on edge, and a hand raised to her chest as her panicked eyes darted to the wall at her left. The sound, whatever it was, had come from within the room. She imagined a very annoyed fae prince slamming his hands down on a table. She turned on her heel and scuttled away.
She hid around the edge of the corner, not knowing what else to do. On the other side of the wall, which her back pressed against, she could start to hear voices, growing in tenor and very clearly in argument. Sarah felt an unwelcome flare of tension shoot down her spine, and she removed herself from the wall. Why was she so nervous? Did she have reason to be? Fuck yes she had reason to be!
She pressed a hand to her forehead and started to pace once more, giving in to move a little farther down the hallway with each lap. They were still arguing, but it was impossible to discern whose voice from whose let alone the words they said.
And then it was quiet again. Perfectly quiet. Sarah paused. She looked up at the wall beside her and her heart froze in her chest. What did that mean? Feeling another wave of panic, she gave in to the insecurity and began walking, briskly, back towards the lounge. Lochlan had told her not to leave and here she was almost on the complete other end of the hall.
Sarah stared at the floor, not paying the least bit of attention, as she approached the corner and thus ran, head first, into a very, very, unhappy Goblin King.
She hit him with such force it actually sent her bouncing back. She caught her footing, recovering ungracefully, as her eyes darted up and locked, searingly, onto Jareth's. Her wide gaze, now widening even more, turned pitiful, like a rabbit cowering before a hungry wolf. In turn, his eyes -as blue and intense as she remembered- darkened with recognition and, as she took a cautious step in retreat, his sneer widened just for her and curled into the most wicked, awful smile she'd ever seen.
His posture shifted, turned something dangerous, and the brightness she'd once seen in his gaze dimmed as it fell, brazenly, over her.
"Oh. Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
He spoke at her rather than to her, and her expression tensed in offense. That single, condescending statement was more than enough to pull her from her daze, and she blinked away all traces of panic in a flash.
"Afraid not. Nice to see you too," she said, guardedly, as she straightened from her fumble, trying and failing to mirror the confidence of his posture. While he stood with arms lowered, fully exposed, she instead crossed hers defensively and angled her feet away. Jareth's gaze caught sight of this, of her instinctive preparation to flee, and his smile renewed. He took a step towards her, and then another when she challenged him by not stepping away. By the time he stood before her it was too late to regret her bravado. His scent wafted the air in the small space between them and she remarked, with belligerence, that he smelled positively decadent. Her eyes flickered reflexively to his long, blond hair as it shifted over his shoulders in reaction to the, quite feral really, tilt of his head as he regarded her.
"Your name...it's Sarah, is it not?"
His voice was low, a salacious rumble -though she knew that was only her own wicked nerves having fun with her. She swallowed, and steeled her expression, unsure whether or not to call his bluff - while secretly contended over the fact that her immediate reaction to him was absolutely not what she had expected it to be. Thankfully, she'd had several days to prepare for such a scenario. She forced her eyes to stare through him and she arched a cool brow.
"Is it?"
The audacity of her stare on him brought even more wicked delight to his expression. He was dressed in all-black, sporting a tight, buffed-leather, Napoleon jacket that was buttoned up to the well of his throat. She tried not to observe him any more than that. At least right now. She needed all of her bearings. She did, however, take particular notice of the way the markings around his eyes seemed to darken, just a shade or two, as he stared at her.
"So, you're the one they've sent to me? Really?" he asked, mockingly, before turning and looking over his shoulder. "Getting a bit desperate, are we Lochlan?" he called out, holding back a laugh, before turning to stare down at her once more. He was taller than she remembered. Or maybe, she simply found him more intimidating.
"As amusing as this situation is, can we get on with it already?" she asked. She was proud of herself for keeping her voice so strong. From the way his brow twitched in response, it clearly caught him off guard. Though not in any way that was beneficial to her.
"Get on with it?" he repeated, taking another small step towards her. Her eyes darted down to their feet, betraying her nerves, and she took a small step back. Damn it. He was trying to disarm her. She needed to stand her ground. Her eyes flickered back up, but this time caught sight of Lochlan standing at the mouth of the hall behind him. Their gazes crossed and he looked...worried.
"Yes. Lochlan seems to think you'll want to marry me. Tell him how wrong he is so I can go home." She tore her eyes away from Lochlan and brought them back to Jareth. She gripped her biceps tightly, her nails digging into her bare skin. Jareth's eyes lowered, not to her nervous mannerism, but to the way her breasts rose in reaction to the gesture.
"How many years has it been?" he asked, ignoring her comment and taking yet another, dangerous step towards her. Sarah gulped again. She was too damned nervous. Nervous, she acknowledged. Not afraid. No, it wasn't fear she was feeling. The effect his proximity and stare were having on her was something far more...crippling.
"Five," she stated. Flatly. Jareth's eyes narrowed, like he didn't believe her, then lowered, vacantly, for just a moment.
"Is that all?" he asked, then brought his gaze up to hers. The brightness was back, enhanced by the -now smokey- blue shadow surrounding it. He reached out to brush a lock of hair from her face, but when she flinched away his hand instead trailed lightly down her shoulder. He stifled another laugh. "You're not a little girl anymore."
"You'll have that," she said, tersely. She held her ground well, training her eyes on his nose while he continued to scrutinize her.
"...What are you wearing?" he asked. Sarah scowled.
"Clothes," she replied, and tried to step around him. She moved quickly, though not quickly enough as he caught her by the arm and spun her back. She landed against his torso, her free hand naturally rising to his chest to brace herself, which then immediately fell dead to her side.
"Jareth-" Lochlan called out, in warning it seemed -or rather she hoped. Sarah looked back at him, but he made no further effort to help her. She felt Jareth's grip on her arm twitch in response.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it? For us to talk." His last word was laced with aggression as he jerked on her arm and forcibly called her attention back to him. She caught his gaze with a bit of a gape. He was so damn close. "I admit, you've earned my curiosity."
Sarah scowled at his highhanded tone, his ridicule over her evident by the glimmer in his eyes. She tried to jerk her arm away from him but failed. "Great. So can I get your answer now, or what?" she asked. She felt his grip on her bicep flex, tugging her towards him subtly. She did not allow it.
"My answer? To what?" he asked, innocently. Sarah glared. He was trying to demean her. Force the words from her own mouth. As if she cared.
"Will you marry me, Jareth?" she asked, boldly, sarcastically, and without a single shred of interest. Unreceptive of her ire, Jareth tugged her harder until she stumbled into him. She gasped and wondered, fleetingly, why the hell Lochlan was just standing there letting this happen.
"I can only imagine the promises that were made to get those words tumbling, so readily, out of your mouth," he said. His free hand pressed up against the side of her face, petting her almost, as it moved into her hair. The feeling of his leather gloves was cool and alien against her skin, and she shied away from it. His fingers splayed until reaching the back of her head, where they then tightened and pulled at the hair of her nape. She snarled and jerked her head away.
"Let go of me," she said, through gritted teeth, as she pushed him away. She managed to spread the distance between them, but not free herself of his grip. His smile curled, and he cocked his head in a rather wicked manner.
"Such cruel eyes. One might think you don't actually want to be my bride," he teased, then, as she shoved him again, released his hold to send her stumbling back. She staggered and huffed, wielding a wary and dangerous look in her eye. Jareth regarded it well. His smile cemented. She glanced back at Lochlan, just to see if he was still there, and glared when his response was an uncomfortable shrug.
"I don't. But here I am, giving it the ol' college try," she said, waving a hand up in exasperation. She had promised, after all, to give the proposal an honest shot. Well shit. It'd been two minutes and look how things ended up. She looked away and unwittingly lowered her guard, something she regretted immediately. She heard him laugh, but had not the time to react when he was suddenly close to her once more. He wrapped an arm around her waist and hugged her to him. She glared and pushed back, but the way he only laughed harder at her was indication that such actions would get her nowhere. Instead she gripped the front of his jacket, the taut leather crinkling under her fingers. His eyes lowered to her, and again the heady aroma of him, now accompanied by the tickle of his hair against her cheek, brought her close to an entirely inappropriate moment of falter.
"I think you could stand to try a little harder," he said, provocatively, as the hand at the small of her back pressed her against him. Sarah's nostrils flared. This was not the Goblin King she remembered. No. The man she'd met that day was tamed by a child's eyes. This moment now should have been one of sheer disillusionment. But it wasn't. Because she was no longer a child. As the years brought her understanding, she'd come to know exactly what he was and what he had always been, and just how much danger her naivety had truly put her in because of it. He was a king. He was a creature. He was a man. And the way he looked at her now, the lack of reservation in his words and in his gaze, it was everything she had been anticipating. Everything she had been thinking about and preparing herself for. She'd told Lochlan she was never afraid of him. That was true, she wasn't. She was nervous. She was nervous in a way that had her fighting her thighs from pressing themselves together.
"You need to back off," she warned, turning away sharply when he suddenly leaned in and ran his nose along the side of her face. He inhaled her scent, his head twisting like the snake he was proving himself to be. Sarah tried to ignore it -the twinge that quivered through her at the feeling of his skin touching hers.
"This truly is remarkable," Jareth said, raising his free hand to grip her tightly by the jaw and direct her this way and that as he, apparently, inspected her. "My father really signed off on presenting you? How insulting. I am royalty. And you are what? Mortal? A crude child who's amounted to nothing more than the prevailing test of my patience? Do you have any idea what it is you've walked yourself into?" He was deriding her, attempting to assert his dominance through the difference in their stations. Please, she wasn't that thick. Nor that insecure for that matter. Sarah glared as best as she could and growled again.
"Listen you ass, I don't know who you think you are but your magnanimous father came to me. I am here as a Goddamn privilege and I will not be bullied by you," she snapped, pushing against him with all her might and, to her surprise, succeeded in escaping him. She moved away from him and rubbed the ache from her jaw. "If you're disgusted by my plebeian upbringing then even better. Now answer the damn question." She spoke commandingly, daringly, and stupidly. Jareth began to laugh with distaste, and the markings surrounding his eyes darkened a little more. Now they were black. A rich, smokey, malevolent black.
Jareth strode towards her quickly and disarmed her by creating a very intimate air of proximity. She held her ground once more, glaring up at him, and ignored the utter pang that was most definitely not anger that chose then of all times to surge through her. He was staring down at her. Their chests were nearly touching.
"Disgusted?" he asked, his smile curling up on one side and creasing his face. His tone dropped, lulled in a sense, something that she knew, somehow she knew, meant something bad for her. She heard Lochlan take a step towards them and the sound, the distraction, in that split second, was all Jareth needed. "No...you misunderstand. I am far from disgusted."
Sarah's hands were placed tightly on her hips. Those hands then sprang upward frantically when Jareth grabbed a hold of her face and tried to kiss her, shamelessly.
She lurched herself from the hold, outrage burning in her gaze, before winding back an arm and slapping him starkly across the face. The sound was loud, cutting the air and echoing down the hall. She actually gasped, surprised by her own instincts, or maybe it was in response to the even louder gasp of Lochlan. She peered back at him quickly and he looked...terrified. Her eyes widened with dread as she realized the precariousness of her actions, and she held her hand out in front of herself defensively. Her confidence faltered for just a moment as she watched Jareth's face, turned away from her in profile, steadily flush and reddened from the sting. He stood totally motionless, totally unreadable, and then a terrible, incorrigible smile spread across his face.
"Jareth…" Lochlan called out, slowly, calmly. Sarah glanced back nervously. Fuck. That tone from him was not reassuring, nor was the appeasing hand he'd raised towards him. Like he was baiting a Goddamn lion. She took another step back, turning to watch Jareth with caution.
He said nothing to Lochlan, but a strange, unnerving huff of laughter escaped him as he turned his head to confront Sarah again. Her eyes scoured his face, and she watched as the markings around his eyes began to slowly stretch down the length of it. His smile twitched. Like a tick. Like a snap in the air. "How...interesting," he muttered, with a slow, savouring blink.
When he opened his eyes they locked on hers and, with a speed too calculated to evade, he came at her and fisted a hand roughly at the back of her neck.
Jareth stepped towards her and simultaneously pulled her forward the remaining distance, ignoring her yelp and recoil, as his free hand grasped the side of her jaw. He angled her head sharply upwards, pressed down on her chin with his thumb until her mouth was painfully forced open, and kissed her.
Sarah felt her mind leave her. Even as the pressure of his thumb pressing into her chin failed to abate, even as the feeling of his tongue, wet and hot and brutal, thrusted between her lips, even as their teeth scraped and she whimpered, and pulled away, and bit down on him in response, her mind left her. Her eyes fought the urge to close and she scowled. Her mouth, opening wide with what she told herself was disgust, fed off his breath as his grip on her constricted. He growled at her. Really growled. With a sense of morbid gratification that she was shamefully enticed by. He saw the way her eyes parted open, in spite of herself, to stare at him, and he kissed her again. His lips molded to hers and sucked, and murmured, and bit. His touch was aggressive; but more than that, it was manipulative. And in reaction, her tongue bore into his mouth, greedily and contrarily, as a brief moment of abandon took her. He tasted of wine -something bold, and sweet, and bitter. He bit down sharply on her lip, and she whimpered, gasped, and did all she could to breathe as he fought with her for dominance. All of this happened within a few seconds, before she jerked herself clean away from him.
With a heavy breath, he released her. She staggered back, glaring as she wiped his saliva from her face. He was grinning, pleased with something other than himself, and regarded her carefully.
"What the fuck," she said, angrily, her posture on guard and ready to attack should he approach her again.
He hummed rather than respond, some dastardly thought musing through his mind. He kept his eyes locked strictly on her, on the way she regained her composure as she glowered at him, unblinking, with offense. He turned away from her then, to Lochlan, who still stood pitifully off to the side. "Well alright then," he said, and turned his back on them both. "Your timing could not have been better. We're about to serve dinner," he added, with a new, false sense of pleasantry in his tone. He took a step away from them and then glanced back, just slightly, at Sarah, who only stared back at him in bemused horror. "Please, help yourselves."
He was gone after that. Literally gone. Leaving Sarah to blink dumbly at the space he once occupied. She struggled on a breath but her heart quickly settled. When she was sure he was really gone, she turned and glared viciously at Lochlan.
"What the fuck was all that?"
A/N- Oh boi. Sarah's finally on the island, so get ready for the good stuff. *wink*
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