Sarah felt, once again, the familiar gust of wind in her hair and a tugging in her tummy. She was surrounded by gray, shimmering smoke for only a moment before the air around her filled with corporeal forms.
Sarah's back hit a soft, red surface as she dropped out of thin air. It was a bed, and the red, satin sheets ballooned under the impact of her weight. Before she had time to register where she was, she began kicking and clawing. The Goblin King had landed on top of her and closed his fists around her wrists. He cackled triumphantly, but the smile soon left his face; Sarah was inconsolable.
The girl was screaming and fighting for her life. She was mad.
"No! No, you'll never have me! I hate you! No!" She thrashed about, her eyes rolling back in her head.
The Goblin King soon overpowered her, though it was no easy task. He crossed her arms over one another and flipped her onto her side. She was pressed hard and fast to his body, the little spoon to his big spoon. She couldn't move and simply began to tremble.
"Sarah," he murmured gently in her ear, after several moments of silence, "I will not harm you. Rest, my love, I will not harm you."
Her breathing slowed, and her trembling ceased, but she didn't cry. She was too tired. Everything had happened so fast. She didn't know what would happen next. Somehow, being in such an intimate position calmed her; it was the only comfort available to which she could cling. Jareth's body heat warmed her and she could feel his heartbeat on her back.
His right hand released its grip and tucked some strands of dark hair behind her right ear, gently stroking in a slow tempo. This soothed her, and she asked herself how the man who had stolen her could also console her. How could she be terrified of what he would do next, and yet find solace in his embrace?
The moments melted into minutes. Sarah didn't know how long they lay there, but the king eventually rose and headed for the door.
"My servants will attend to you soon. Rest for now," said Jareth calmly. He had not said it coldly, yet the pang of exhaustion Sarah felt somehow intensified with his words. "Welcome home."
Sarah heard two clicks as what was apparently the chamber door opened and closed. Even now in the silence of the king's absence Sarah didn't cry; she was too shocked.
The girl drifted into sleep.
Sarah awoke slowly and with a dull throb in her head. Her brow furrowed in confusion when her eyes opened to see a tan, stone wall in front of her eyes and felt smooth, satin sheets under her fingers.
Her stomach did a flip as she remembered where she was.
The Underground.
An emptiness filled her mind as she realized the finality of her situation. She had wished herself away. She had wished herself away and didn't get to say goodbye. She didn't get to perform in her theater's play. She didn't get to advance onto her ballet coach's young-adult studio. She hadn't gotten to meet Brad's family, or see Toby grow up, own a car, or even graduate high school.
What would her family think? Did Jareth reset the clock to before the fire, or had he simply delivered them all from the blaze? Would they miss her?
Would Toby even remember her when he grew up?
Her stomach softly grumbled as a literal emptiness made itself known.
"I can at least explore," she thought to herself, swinging her legs off the bed. Her feet were still bare and sunk into a plush carpet, for which Sarah was grateful. The carpet's color matched the wine-red of the bed sheets, which in turn matched the decorative tassels hanging from the brass chandelier overhead.
Sarah realized the chamber was quite large as she gazed around the room. The sandy color of the walls and the reds and browns of the space gave it a cozy feeling.
"Would be a lot cozier if I were here of my own free will," Sarah muttered out loud to herself.
The bed was situated in the middle of the wall opposite to the bedroom door and framed by mahogany nightstands on each side; a large chest sat at the foot of the bed. Sarah noticed all the furniture in the room was made from the same, dark wood. It was no surprise to her that the Goblin King would find cohesion in his home decorating; Sarah figured any man who could accessorize at his level of flamboyance would know how to pick a room's color palette. As she stood at the foot of the bed, she stared at the beautiful, elaborate etchings in the headboard. The craftsmanship was delicate yet precise; carved, swirling patterns and flowers flowed over the wooden surface like waves in water. Behind her and next to the door was a large dresser. Against the wall to her right stood a tall wardrobe. The left wall contained a door that appeared to lead to a balcony, and the right wall contained a door that was closed; Sarah hoped it was a lavatory.
To her good fortune, it was, and she relieved herself before washing her face; she still smelled of smoke. She wondered if she should also take a bath in the large, stone jacuzzi that jutted out from the bathroom wall, but her stomach told her she would rather have breakfast than a quick dip.
Sarah rattled the bedroom door handle, but it didn't move. She used both hands and tried again.
She was locked in.
A small cry of panic escaped her lips as she frantically yanked at the door handle, knowing it would do no good. She backed up until her legs hit the bed; she really was a prisoner.
Before her thoughts could spiral into a whirlpool of panic, the handle turned and a rather tall yet portly female goblin entered. She gave a somewhat cumbersome curtsy and addressed Sarah.
"Beggin' your pardon, miss, I 'ope you 'aven't been up and about long. I'm very glad you're awake and ready to start the day. Let's get you out o' those clothes," said the goblin in a somewhat doctored and overly formal Irish accent, as if she'd practiced the words before reciting them. Before Sarah could say anything, the apparent servant of whom Jareth had spoken was grabbing at the hem of Sarah's nightdress and trying to lift it.
"Now, now hold on...wait, just a sec..." Sarah was trying to stop the small yet surprisingly strong goblin hands from stripping her down.
"Wait!"
The goblin stopped, her hands still classed around Sarah's hem, and looked up at the girl.
"What's your name?"
"Berta," said the servant with a little grunt.
"Berta. Right. Thank you so much for coming to help, but is it alright if I undress myself? And I really would much rather getting some breakfast to getting a bath right now. Do you think that's possible?"
Berta's glassy brown eyes didn't flinch, and her hands were still on Sarah's dress, which was now more comical than awkward.
"You'll bathe, dress, and join the king for breakfast," answered Berta.
"I will not!" Sarah said indignantly. "I will do as I please."
"Beggin' your pardon, miss, but them's the orders. And if them's the orders, them's the rules.
Sarah gave a cry of frustration and pressed her palms into her for head.
"Gah! Why is he so impossible?! If he thinks he can tell me when and where to go, he's got another thing coming."
Berta began to worry the dress hem between her forefingers and thumbs and pulled them closer to her body in a nervous huddle.
"Beggin' your pardon but once more, miss, but he said he wants me to take good care of you, so I guess if he wants you to bathe and then dine together...well, it's to take care of you. Just doing me job, miss."
The older goblin had a furrow in her brow now and looked nervous. Sarah thought the creature appeared quite sweet in her red bonnet and pink apron, gray curls sticking out in every which direction. She didn't want to do something—or not do something—that would get the poor dear in trouble.
"Alright," said Sarah with a sigh, "I'll bathe. But please, let me undress myself."
"As you wish, miss."
The goblin hobbled into the bathroom and Sarah followed. Berta drew a bath and then turned and watched Sarah expectantly. Sarah realized quickly that the goblin wasn't going to leave her and she'd have to undress in front of Berta. Undressing was a bit awkward, but this fact seemed to not phase the attendant at all.
Sarah stepped gingerly into the hot bath, and let out a sigh as the warm water soothed her muscles. Sarah didn't realize just how tense she had been. She tried to clear her mind and slowly sunk under the water; she allowed the moments of lasting oxygen to bring her peace. She seemed so untouchable here. She didn't know how much longer she would have moments like this to herself. If he was Goblin King, did he expect her to be Goblin Queen? A monarch and his consort?
Sarah emerged and brushed that thought from her mind.
Berta grabbed a vial of shimmery blue liquid off one of the stone shelves jutting directly from the wall next to the tub and poured the potion directly into the tub. Sarah gasped as a little storm cloud steamed up from the water and provided a shower for her. Sarah couldn't help but gaze in awe.
Berta showed her which vials were hair products and which vials were for the body.
"Is there anything in here that could hurt me?" the girl inquired about the potions. Sarah could just picture pouring a vial over her head and turning into a frog—or at the very least, turning her hair bright pink or some other ridiculous effect with which the Goblin King would have no issue tormenting her.
"Oh no, miss," assured Berta, "this one'll 'elp you sleep. This one'll cure aches an' pains. But nothing dangerous."
Sarah mentally took notes. It didn't seem like there was anything to help her escape, but maybe she'd get creative.
Sarah reveled in the warm water for one more cycle of deep breathing before pulling the stopper in the drain. She looked around for a towel to dry herself off. Berta, sensing her search, reached for a deep purple potion. The goblin stepped up onto the edge of the tub and poured the potion, without asking and quite unceremoniously, onto Sarah's head.
"Hey!" squeaked Sarah, expecting a glitter bomb or to suddenly sprout wings. But, the liquid was warm. In fact, it wasn't really a liquid, but a viscous substance that slowly spread itself all over her body, as if moving by its own power rather than by gravity. Rather than cause her to be wet, the potion did quite the opposite; it was drying her off. The moisture dissipated from her hair and skin in a matter of seconds, as did the potion.
Sarah couldn't believe it. "Is there a potion for everything?" she asked incredulously.
"Not everything, but most things," said Berta, not even acknowledging Sarah's surprise or seeming to know that such practices weren't typical in other worlds.
"Well that sure beats a hair-dryer," thought Sarah to herself.
Berta ushered her to the dresser and picked out linen undergarments. They were delicate things. Sarah had only ever seen anything so...beautiful, so fine, in stores for adults and in her step-mothers loads of laundry. Berta crossed the room to the wardrobe and opened it. A gasp caught in Sarah's throat as she looked upon what had to be a collection of dresses straight out of every girl's dreams. A hodge-podge of poofy ball gowns, sleek velvet dresses, and pure silk sheathes was billowing out into the bedroom. Sarah was caught bewildered by outfits beyond her wildest imagination.
Outfits fit for a queen.
Sarah quickly shook herself from her trance and closed her jaw that had apparently dropped.
"He can tell me when to bathe and dress, but he cannot tell me what to wear." She wouldn't trapse around like his own personal courtesan.
Turning defiantly back to the dresser, she yanked open the drawers, hoping she would find something and her subordinate behavior wouldn't come to an embarrassing halt. To her delight, she found a sleeveless, olive green tunic and black breeches.
Another shock passed over Sarah as she opened the top drawer to reveal collections of glittering jewels. She recovered quickly this time and gave a disgruntled huff, electing for a plain, leather headband to keep her thick, black tresses from falling in her face.
"May I have some shoes?" asked Sarah grumpily, forgetting to say please. Berta motioned towards the chest.
When Sarah opened this compartment, she braced herself for wonder and didn't react when the sparkle of bedazzled, delicate slippers and heels met her eyes. She dug through the pile of shoes until she found a pair of simple, knee-high boots made of brown leather.
She strode to the bathroom to check herself in the mirror, walking with purpose; she felt that she had chosen a power outfit, something that said she was not just another harlot in his court. The tunic did still reach mid-thigh rather than stop at the hips as a shirt, and the neckline was a deeper V than she would've liked, but she took pride in the fact it wasn't a dress.
"Though maybe I'll at least try them on later tonight. Just to see..." the human thought to herself, unable to deny the urge to play dress-up.
Sarah stared at the girl in the mirror; she was looking at a young woman. She wasn't an adult, but she wasn't exactly a child anymore. She was something in-between.
Sensing the moment of pause, Berta spoke.
"It's time to go, miss," said the goblin ceremoniously. Perhaps, under her stoic gaze, this creature of the king's employ knew more than Sarah. Knew what was to come. Knew that this girl has the duty and life of a woman ahead of her.
All Sarah could do was sigh and follow Berta without comment. But, she was not resigning; she was merely bracing herself.
The Goblin king sat in his throne as if he had been tossed there haphazardly, matching the haphazard straw that truly had no business strewn about the floor with the goblins and the chickens. He twirled his riding crop slowly, languorously tracing circles in the air.
"Where is she?" he thought impatiently to himself.
The chamber doors suddenly swung open, as if on cue. The two guards from the hall entered, followed by Berta.
And her.
Jareth's breath stopped in his throat. Thank goodness his body truly has no need for oxygen.
She stood there like a dream. She was here in his throne room. She was here of free will.
"Oh yes, 'free will,'" rang his thoughts. He brushed them away.
She was here. Here. An inward chuckle shook his ribs. She had not chosen a dress. He thought for sure they would appeal to the child, as he remembered how many times she had come to the park in her "gowns" to play dress-up and recite prose of old. Though he supposed she was no child anymore.
Self-awareness grasped the king once again; he realized even the goblins had fallen silent, their mouths agape and their eyes wide. Sarah stood there with her head held high. She would not show weakness and she would not be afraid.
Sarah was surprised at herself; her legs were strong under her and her breath was steady. She had prepared for this moment. Oh, she had tried to forget the Goblin King, but she had always known that this, taking her, was a possibility. She has seen his true colors, she had seen that he had no power over her. After all, the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl...
"Well...?" asked Sarah. She wouldn't not be summoned like a dog. She wanted to get in and get out as soon as possible. "You wanted to see me?"
"You wanted to see me, my Lord," the Goblin King corrected her.
Sarah scoffed.
The fae's blood boiled at this. But, he would not let a girl get to him. He would not show signs that she had the upper hand, however hard he might try to curb his emotions.
The goblins were still silent. With bated breath, they waited to see if the king would respond to such insolence. Would he kick her? Throw her out of a window like he did with them? Would she secretly enjoy it, as they did?
Jareth decided a response was not dignified and pretended not to notice.
"After you arise each morning, we will take breakfast in the royal dining room. If I am not able to join you, breakfast will be brought to you."
"And if I'm not hungry?" said Sarah, jutting her chin towards the ceiling.
"You will still accompany me, and you will starve."
Sarah's stomach jumped at the sight of the king narrowing his eyes at her. The quick change from cool monarch to malevolent ruler was enough to darken the very sky. Sarah didn't want to show any fear, but couldn't help but swallow as her mouth went dry.
"Well, I'm not hungry today, and I don't feel like going to breakfast."
As if on cue, her stomach gurgled in almost comedic timing.
Jareth smirked.
"Oh?" he queried.
Before she could retort, he rose and turned into a cloud of glitter in one smooth movement before his feet even hit the floor, taking Sarah with him in an equally dazzling billow of glitter.
When her feet hit the ground once more, Sarah gasped for air. That strange pulling feeling in her stomach would always be unsettling, she thought to herself. They were standing in a large hall will little natural light. To remediate this, lit torches lined the walls on all four sides.
"You can't just...poof me where and whenever you like," quipped Sarah.
"I just did."
Sarah let out a low growl. "You could at least warn me. And invest in some windows, Count Dracula."
"When managing the entirety of the outside world is your job, one tends to prefer the inside."
Sarah couldn't hide the surprise on her face in response to such an authentic answer. She quickly recovered.
"I didn't realize stealing babies and being King of the Goblins was a real job," she snorted at him. She couldn't let this conversation turn...normal. Civil. This was a fight. She refused to be compliant. This was kidnapping.
Jareth just sighed. He moved to the long, wooden table in the middle of the room and sat at the head of the table. He motioned dispassionately to a seat at the foot of the table. Sarah took this suggestion and sat, suddenly feeling tired again.
She wouldn't give up.
"And, I thought we were going to have breakfast. I don't see any food."
Again, silence.
Jareth sighed once more and waved his left hand over the table.
A breakfast feast appeared before them. Boiled eggs, steaming sausages, kipper, bread rolls, and a large assortment of fruits and vegetables was spread before her.
Now Sarah was annoyed. She wanted a response. She wanted him as unhappy as she was.
Was she unhappy?
Sarah quickly brushed the thought away and got back to work.
"Wow, I didn't know you could cook," she said with the most sarcasm she could muster. "Oh wait, you didn't. I'm not eating any magic fairy food."
"Oh, but, Sarah," he said quietly, leaning forward and summoning a crystal to his right hand, "you already did."
He thrust the glass orb directly at her face. Sarah shrieked and threw her hands up in defense, expecting the impact of the ball to break her wrists.
What she caught in her hands was soft and sticky. Sarah unraveled the squinting flinch upon her face and beheld an overripe peach in her hands. It dripped with sweet and sticky liquid from the places where the skin had broken upon impact.
Sarah shot up out of her chair and threw the peach back at him. A wave of his hand turned the thing into a bubble that floated upwards.
"How dare you?!" she shrieked. She was quivering in rage. "Eating that peach was a trick and you know it."
"Still counts," he said lazily, biting into a bread roll.
"No! It's not fair! And my 'basis for comparison' is solid enough. I will not be taunted and treated like a dog. I am not some plaything for a lonely old man!"
Perhaps it was the "lonely," and perhaps it was the "old." Perhaps it was "man" or the use of all three demeaning words together. Whatever it was, the Goblin King snapped. He shot across the table, literally flying through the air until the force of his body knocked Sarah into her seat. He grasped each arm of the chair, caging her in, and brought his face centimeters from hers.
Sarah could feel the warmth of his breath and practically taste its muskiness as his chest heaved with rage. His eyes sent daggers into hers as his gaze pierced her defiant bubble of confidence.
"Know this and know it well," he barked through gritted teeth, "I am not lonely and I am anything but a man. As for old, I am ancient, my dear, and I've seen things you cannot fathom in your measly seventeen years." He was shouting now, and it seemed to shake the entire room. "So, perhaps you should be grateful that out of all the women of centuries passed, I have chosen you. And if I'm lonely, YOU are the one to blame for that!"
In a swirl of glitter and feathers he turned into an owl and flew up and out of a hatch in the ceiling.
A dry sob wracked Sarah's body followed by another. She was so afraid, she couldn't even tremble, but her defiance would not let him bring her to tears. Her breath came in gasps.
"And, Sarah," his voice echoed around the room, projected from wherever he had disappeared to, "I certainly don't look old."
Sarah didn't know what to do; this was a grim reminder of his anger. She absentmindedly began eating the cherries from the bowl in front of her, base needs taking over as she sat stunned.
"What do I do now?" She thought to herself.
Thank you for reading after my hiatus. The next part(s) will be a tad slower and take some time to write, as I need to establish castle life and the castle itself. THANK YOU for the support! 3
