Chapter 6: Within the bricks, what did you bury?
~*o0o*~
A fat lot of good Jareth's intervention is, Sarah thought viciously as a gleaming silver arrow shot past her and embedded itself into a tree. The tree began to wail gratingly and the whorls in the bark opened up into gaping mouths, stretched wide in agony.
Just what I needed, a damn tree alerting her.
Sarah shot a wary look across the river; her feet were aching and blister worn; if her clothes hadn't been sticking to her from the sheer amount of sweat pouring out of her then the icy grasp of the river's touch would have done the job as thoroughly. Alas, wet fabric clung to her like a second skin, a second skin that was built to impede movement and weigh her down, so it was more like an additional fifty skins, in retrospect.
Nessa was grinning at her from across the water, bow in hand as she surveyed the short expanse of space she would have to cross to capture her.
What could make a stranger so determined to capture her? What did she see when she looked at Sarah?
"There's no need to keep running, pretty human," her suitor's battle armour of complicated leather braiding was pinned taut to her arms as she readied her bow once more. "You'd be far happier with me and mine."
"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Sarah snapped back, her instincts screamed at her to keep running. Civility urged her to continue with meaningless small talk. Before instinct could win over, Nessa said something that gave her pause.
"You'd be safer too. From him," she chuckled, "We'd all be safer." The hand that clutched the delicate birch arrow hovered as her pursuer allowed her shimmering golden fingers to trace over the edge of a small bottle around her neck.
"What's that supposed to mean?" A creeping sense of dread began to well up inside of her. She was safe, for years she had been safe in this Labyrinth. No resident would dare to harm her or cause misfortune upon fear of bogging or the occasional threat of being sent to work in the kitchens; even Sarah had a healthy fear of that place.
Jareth would never hurt me, she concluded decisively, he promised he would protect me from her. He won't just leave me here at her mercy.
He'd never raised a hand to her or a single wisp of malignant magic.
In fact, Jareth continued to remain frustratingly out of reach.
Before Nessa could respond, her eyes were suddenly drawn to the river below. Sarah could vaguely recall that Nessa and Marietta had both been from a Kingdom involving rivers, although she couldn't quite remember which one. The statuesque suitor drew her bow sharply and aimed it at the crystal clear waters.
Soft ripples began to form on its surface, like fractals their recurring circular patterns repeated before an enormous jet of water burst forth, shockingly forming contour lines of a fist across the mass of aqua.
The hand enclosed the screeching hunter, dragging her into the depths of the water below. Just when Sarah started to feel a prickle of concern for the woman, her head breached the surface and the rapids started to pull her downstream. Away from Sarah.
The water began to curdle and putrefy before her eyes, and an eye-watering miasma assaulted her senses.
What remained of the hand and its quavering lines, bleeding back into the toxic and tainted river below, made a half-hearted attempt to wave at her.
"You took your time," Sarah spoke breathlessly, too relieved to feel the outrage that had been bubbling inside of her for the duration she'd been pursued.
It can't have been more than half an hour, came the unwanted input of her mind, that's nowhere near as bad as being chased for a full thirteen hours.
A distorted voice, called from the very bowels of the bog infested river responded, "Now, now, I had to give her a sporting chance."
~*o0o*~
Sarah rubbed her thumb over the smooth surface of her stone playing-piece. It was an unusual choice for an icon. Her opponents always took such pride in choosing a piece that was beautiful, even though neither the beauty of the playing-piece nor of the player would aid them in attaining victory.
There had been flowers and ornate hair clips, on one occasion someone had used a lapis butterfly caught in an inhumanely small jar.
Despite knowing that any playing piece was irrelevant, Sarah had grown attached the grey stone with the delicate webbed cracks that she had placed down on the ground below. She'd found it one day in a river after she went to wash away the dirt she'd accumulated from tussling with Ludo over the scrabble pieces he'd eaten. Sir Didymus, of course, had been flattered that they spelt out his name, and by name he meant that Ludo had consumed the letter 'd' first, followed by several miscellaneous letters that probably weren't in his name unless there were a lot of silent vowels and 'x's in 'Didymus.'
No, the Game with One Rule had everything to do with the player, not the pieces and certainly not the board.
The lofty King sat down in the dirt beside her, just as he had done once before, just as they all did. It brought her an unhealthy degree of satisfaction to see his lovely mahogany cloak stained and tarnished by the trappings of a game of human design.
A clear crystal, no bigger than a marble, was rolled fluidly between each finger, arching onto the back of ungloved hands. Seeing the Goblin King's bare hands shouldn't have sent a brilliant scarlet flush to her face. For all the innocence and benignity of his motions and countenance, Sarah could scarcely forget the insurmountable reservoir of power boiling away beneath the surface.
Jareth placed his playing-piece, smaller than her own, right beside her stone. After a moment's hesitation, he moved it on top. There was no earthly reason why it shouldn't have rolled off the curved surface, yet the crystal remained resolute.
Shooting him a scowl, Sarah tipped his crystal off and slid her stone diagonally across the board, skimming three poorly drawn squares that made up a fraction of the board drawn into the mud. In a way, it was almost a point of pride for her to make the game as dirty and unappealing as possible. Her opponents were too busy sneering at how the dirt clung to their fingernails and marked up their knees to pay attention to what she was doing.
But not Jareth.
He hadn't breathed a word of contempt since the game began, and he had studied her in silence as she drew her board into the earth, beneath the peach tree.
Every action, each nudge of her stone and carefully levelled word would decide her fate.
'Labyrinth stone, Labyrinth mud,' the words reverberated through her head teasingly.
"Are you sure about that move?" Jareth murmured softly, a waterfall of silver-blonde hair half-obscured his face from view as he leaned forward to scrutinise the board.
"Quite sure," Sarah responded coolly.
"It is just that you established a pattern of pursuing me across the board, now you're avoiding me," his voice held a note of faux-confusion, "It's enough to make anyone bemused about your intentions."
"If you know the rule, by all means, please enlighten me." It grated on her that he was mirroring the phrases she'd used on the challengers. Words designed to trick and to trap. Misdirection was her game, not his.
"Hmm, I'll let you know." The sheer confidence in his voice made Sarah's hand falter for a moment as she jumped her stone over Jareth's crystal twice and rested it to the side. This time, when he reached for his playing-piece, he made sure to brush the back of his hand against hers, sending a short jab of heat and energy spiking through her.
Her hand still smarted from the mark it now bore. No wonder Jareth wore gloves all the time if he constantly carried a glowing beacon engraved into his skin. Wryly, a part of her considered how beneficial it would have been to use it as a flashlight when she sneaked her books under her quilt as a child. She vehemently rejected any implications that she was growing fond of the blazing icon and the lazy heat winding its way up her arm.
It felt like power.
Tantalising and dangerous.
You're a Queen, she reminded herself. The thought made her shudder for not entirely unpleasant reasons. For a moment the sun appeared to shine a little brighter, parting the clouds and warming their unnoticed part of the garden.
Jareth was smiling at her again. In fact, he hadn't stopped smiling from the moment he set eyes upon the stone she cast to the ground in challenge.
For possessing all the wildness of a caged animal that sought to capture and conquer, he was maintaining a shockingly placid facade.
"I suppose you'd rather be playing something like Chess, you're quite attached to the roles," Sarah mocked, hadn't every one of her challengers lamented her choice of challenge? She wasn't quite sure that the game they'd been playing from the beginning hadn't been some form of Chess sans a board.
Black and white.
Which was she?
White moved first, and she'd certainly been the first to strike, the first to call the Goblin King into her life. And now that she'd finally made it to the opposite side of the board, a crown of ebony instead of ivory sat upon her head, a leaden weight.
Your pieces weren't supposed to change allegiance in Chess; no wonder she was so terrible at the game.
Jareth tilted his head consideringly, eyes trailing up from her bare arm to her face, noticing her own eyes determinedly staring back. "But you've never played Chess, dearest. Why is that?"
Sarah blinked for a moment, head ringing. "Perhaps I was tired of protecting Kings from well-deserved attacks." Her thoughts were bleeding together into an inky inscrutable mess as she heard an odd echo reverberate from her speech.
"Everyone knows it is the Queen that is the most useful piece on the board," Jareth spoke conversationally, snapping her back into focus as he slid his crystal to the end of the board on the right. "Some would say the game is really about her. She has all of the power."
"Power over you." The words fell from her mouth without thinking, she watched the Goblin King sharply inhale through his nose, his easy smile shattering into something that could leave splinters embedded within skin. Skin that still felt too sensitive and both loathed as well as craved the next fleeting touch. This time it was Sarah that allowed her pinky finger to drag across the underside of Jareth's wrist as she placed her stone, one square in front of him.
"I've never denied that."
How could someone so full of pride and distaste for all those that sought to win his Kingdom, so easily concede his power with a casual phrase? It was nothing short of alarming. Sarah dug her nails in and clung to every scrap of power she could scrape together, ripping it away from her challengers and sweetly plying it from Jareth after testing the strength of his hold.
Sarah bit her lip softly. She wondered what she was doing bating him. Maybe there were things she wanted other than victory after all.
"Zira was right," Jareth flicked the crystal idly, watching it roll. "This game is very human."
"Zella," she corrected instantly, "In what way is this game human? If you're about to wax lyrical about the superiority of your kind over humanity's tendency to crawl around in the dirt you can spare me." She'd heard it all before. "It was a human that defeated them all in the end."
Jareth laughed at her answer, eyes shining with mirth and unshed secrets. Even now, when they were playing her game he was still laughing at her.
"Firstly," he weighed the word on his barbed tongue, consideringly, "I have no desire to remember the names of the sycophants and fools that flock to my Kingdom. It will do them good to consider their insignificance."
The image of the Goblin King's malevolent fury as he glared at the painting in the gallery came to mind without her active intent to recall it.
She could almost smell the acrid burning and taste the covering of ash blanketing the skies and saturating her senses.
"And secondly," he held up two fingers, starkly pale in the shade provided by the tree's kindly leaves. "I care not about your predilections towards the earth, others could benefit from estimating its value more accurately." And with that, he flicked his crystal once more so it stood next to her stone piece. "I must concede, you were always a ruthless combatant."
Oh, she did not like the jagged grin he directed at her. He wasn't supposed to be complimenting and placating her. He was supposed to be frustrated and frankly bamboozled by this point; they'd been playing for almost two hours.
Back and forth. Insignificant movements in the mud with their stones and their crystals.
How long would it take before he finally made a guess? Before she could throw his claim back in his face?
What if he intended to continue on like this forever? There was only one rule and that rule didn't govern a time frame.
Sarah felt resignation sink heavily into her bones; it would be just like Jareth to use such a loophole to his advantage, suspending them in a limbo of half obligations and promises.
By what promises were they bound to one another?
She had promised him protection, just as he had promised to retaliate against any who pursued her. Neither of them had brought themselves into the equation. The heat in his eyes and his reverent utterances as he tied himself to her as protector had left her craving more of his poison-tipped words, for the poison burned so pleasantly in her veins.
He hadn't promised he wouldn't pursue her.
She did not promise him any protection against herself.
What a pair they made.
Thinking of Nessa had unconsciously drawn her hand to her chest where a tiny bottle lurked. She uncovered it from the safe obscurity of her blouse, rolling it between her fingers as she studied the board.
The Goblin King's eyes pinned her in place, the disgust upon his face tugged at his features until they were torn into a grotesque caricature. "Carrying around trinkets from your past suitor, how...sweet," his voice was little more than a low hiss, "I didn't think you cared about the vile, scheming river-dweller."
Vindication oozed out of her every pore as Sarah continued to play with her gift, "You've said that before," she commented idly, tracing the cork top. "What do you have against rivers?"
The Goblin King leaned over the board to meet her, his face close enough that the harsh breath he exhaled, fanned across her face. "I only have a problem with one very specific river."
"Why?" she frowned, curious in spite of herself, "Did you almost drown in it?"
The Goblin King's sounds of previous mirth now came out strangled, "No, by the Fates I know I wouldn't have survived that."
The Fates, those words prodded at the back of her mind.
Sarah released the bottle, letting it swing back against her chest, where she tucked it neatly under her clothing once more. Jareth stared at her glassy-eyed for a moment, before returning his attention to the board.
"What were we discussing?" He inquired; an unsettled expression crossed his face as he pulled his head back.
Sarah shook her head incredulously; either the Goblin King was getting on a bit or...or...
Hmm
What exactly had Nessa given her?
A bottle of water was a poor defence when you didn't even know what it did; especially coming from a woman whose intentions she couldn't trust.
"The Fae are an odd kind," Jareth mused, circling his crystal around the stone she had set in the centre. "Constrained by so many rules and driven to look for patterns in all that is hidden from sight. They are privileged, after all, to have insight into the hidden." His temporary confusion appeared to have vanished, pressing on with intent and an odd razor edge to his words. "They like to exploit rules mercilessly and yet they cannot fathom cheating."
She forgot to breathe, an icy chill permeated her skin, causing her to draw her arms up to shield herself from his accusation. "I'm not cheating," Sarah declared resolutely, forcing the waver from her voice. Did he know? Had he worked it out? She pressed the warmth of her burning hand against her chest but ended up feeling colder despite the preternatural heat.
The Goblin King enclosed his own hand over her free one where it lingered above her playing piece, caging her between the unyielding bars of his fingers. "Cheating is of no concern to me."
"It wouldn't be," Sarah sneered, trying to ignore the buttery melting feeling flooding up her arm, "You stole my time when it suited you."
Jareth tilted his head, keeping her hand trapped he moved in closer, for one devastating moment she thought he might kiss her again, press his acerbic mouth and sweeter tongue against her own. "I already told you that you are my basis for comparison. Humanity that is," he confirmed, shifting so that he could breathe his duplicitous words into her ear, "The Labyrinth is built upon the desires of Fae and humans alike. It is positively saturated in your expectations and deceptive nature. If we are liars it is only what you have made of us yourselves."
"Remove your hand, or I'll remove it from you," she whispered back, in a sweet simpering tone she assumed his suitors liked to indulge in.
The sunlight shone upon his face, lighting up the proud haughtiness of his features and the smug upturn to his thin lips, "But whatever would you do with it after removing it from me? You may not keep it but I assure you, I am more than happy to lend its attentions to you."
A surge of heat, swiftly headed south as she squirmed uncomfortably on the grass. Before she could restate her denials he released her hand, placing his crystal atop her stone once more, with an air of amusement.
"I'm half surprised none of your failed competitors have come after me, seeking revenge." Sarah confided, quickly changing the subject from whatever she could imagine his hands doing.
At one time, vengeance had been a prevalent concern for Sarah after the Spider Queen had promised death to her hatchlings and ruin upon any web she ever wove. Luckily, Sarah wasn't really one for knitting.
The Christmas jumper she had attempted to make could only be classed as a straight-jacket if you were looking at it diplomatically.
Come to think of it, she'd like to blame her for her recent disaster with the flower crowns.
"You needn't concern yourself with the Labyrinth's failed ones, my lovely one," the Goblin King assured her, "I shall never allow them to touch you. Not one."
The Labyrinth's failed ones...
How many had there been over the years she'd been doing this?
She'd bested so many with her games, one after the other they'd lost...
...and she had revelled in her victory each and every time, gradually accumulating power over what had been a confusing situation that had been forced upon her.
"What happens to the ones that fail?" She asked hesitantly. It was a question she had asked before but never really wanted to know the answer to; she had accepted his vague none-descriptions and counted herself lucky she wouldn't encounter them again, sat astride Jareth. How it made the unspoken words inside her head, gnash and throw themselves at her steadfast mouth, jailed behind gritted teeth. "They just go back home, right?"
She had tried desperately to keep the note of pleading out of her voice. He caught it anyway, eyes glittering with triumph as he plucked her dawning horror from the air and savoured it.
Why had she never seen them again, not one of them?
"They were unavailable for comment."
"One by one, my suitors fall. Death within these Labyrinth walls,"Jareth sang, his chilling words dredging up a memory she had forgotten.
She had been far too consumed by his audacity in dragging her Underground again, of the inconvenience of the situation. You've been paying attention to the wrong things, his voice mocked her inside of the screaming disorder of her thoughts.
Oh, Gods...
"My pretty little mayfly fiancées and fiancés. What fine baubles they make."
The words to his song rang through her head like discordant bells made of bone.
Jareth twisted his wrist in a familiar gesture, steadily rolling a larger crystal from one hand to the other. So unlike the diminutive marble he had been toying with on the board below; this crystal captured the light above and she saw hazy figures flicker within its depths.
"You can't mean-"
"Just kindling for the fire." His smile was disturbingly pleasant.
Sarah felt like she was going to throw up, the garden rippled and contorted before her eyes as she noticed fragments of crystal, crushed and embedded within the very walls of the Labyrinth. Oh, how it glittered and shone in the brilliant sunlight.
Shattered dreams and dusty relics of lives. Brick by brick the Labyrinth was built.
"Your Kingdom is a demanding one, as you've no doubt learnt. How it hungers." Jareth laughed softly, the same ravenous delight in his voice. "Many a wondrous sacrifice have you gifted this land as all fell to your words and your trickery." The sheer brutal pride in his eyes winded her more violently than any blow he could bestow. "It has been a delight to watch you care for us. To feed us, Champion." Deadly intent lingered in his mismatched, inhuman gaze, "Goblin Queen, my Queen."
Sarah rose unsteadily to her feet, knees aching and her vision swimming from either rage or tears. What had she done?
But you knew, part of her whispered slyly.
You had to have known the consequences of victory.
And you didn't care.
"You're fucking disgusting," Sarah's voice was broken up, spitting out harsh syllables with venom and sorrow. "You murdered them."
He didn't look remorseful, not one iota. He sighed as though her hysterics were nought but an inconvenience. "Is it really me that disgusts you? If only you'd let one win, their lives could have been spared." Jareth shook his head sadly, as though lamenting her actions.
"You didn't want them to win either!" Sarah hissed back, "Neither of us wanted them to win. At least I didn't capture their souls in crystal and feed them to a sadistic pile of rubble."
Something bright and dangerous flared in the Goblin King's eyes and she couldn't help but shudder as the air turned cold around them. The light leeched away from the skies, casting the garden into darkness.
The Labyrinth was hungry, it was born starving and would remain in the throes of gluttony and avarice as long as it stood.
"Ah, love, I'd be careful about insulting the Labyrinth," he responded calmly, too calmly.
The last time she'd done that he'd tried to have her viscera smeared across his tunnels.
"We are so very fond of our Queen, but she must learn the consequences of her hurtful words," the Goblin King chided, almost sickeningly paternalistic. He continued to spin his crystal around; it was luminous against the encroaching shadows and the distant rumble of displeased earth below their feet. "I gifted you one of those souls if you'll recall. Now sit back down pretty one, let us finish this game."
"Gifted? Who did you gift me?" She didn't want to ask, the incredulity rose to the surface beyond her control. Who had he crushed in his hands and whose ash had been dusted across her skin as a refreshment?
"Why your filthy little river-dweller, of course." He smiled mockingly, "Technically not one of my Labyrinthine challengers but you did ask me to intervene, darling. And the Bog wasn't nearly enough for her."
Sarah fell back to her knees, the board only visible from the light of the tiny marble playing piece and the luminance of her gold-threaded skin. She pressed her throbbing hand to her head, stiffening a yelp of surprise as she watched the spiralling pattern extend; looping swirls spun up her arm to the crook of her elbow, pulsing like veins of sunlight beneath her skin.
He'd turned her into a monster.
She was already a monster.
How many people had she killed?
You're wearing Nessa beneath your skin, his voice teased her in her mind.
"Surely they knew the consequences,"she tried to reason. She didn't want to accept the blame but seeking absolution from the Goblin King was fruitless.
"Oh yes, don't you remember their fury and their tears upon failure; they surely knew that you would kill them."Jareth gestured to the board, urging her to make a move, "But you stood back and watched as the little cloud nymph sobbed for her father and her home, feeling so superior."
"I-I didn't know..." Sarah protested; all she could remember was the putrefying jealousy, choking up her insides and constricting her heart. All because Jareth had dared to smile at the girl in his office. Dead over a game of Eye-Spy.
"So much you did not know and did not see, it is a marvel that you bested all those unfortunate suitors with such a staggering lack of perception." The Goblin King laughed once more, cold and high like the slice of a tripwire cutting into flesh and sending the unbalanced to their knees. "I may have taken their souls but you severed them from their mortal coils."
"You didn't have to," she forced the words out, moving her stone listlessly to the left of the board. "You could have let them go home, even if their lives were forfeit."
"Yes," he agreed instantly, not even pretending it was beyond his control. "But why should I have done so?"
"Have you no compassion?" Was such a concept, that alien to him?
She could believe that; not a glint of regret had lingered in his eyes as he watched her rejoice in her victories.
"Compassion won't fill our bellies or satisfy us; I'm sure you'll find you can no longer sustain yourself on insipid moral superiority."
Jareth rolled his crystal playing-piece backwards as though preparing to launch it at her stone, eyes of glacial coldness watched her in fascination as she wiped her eyes on the back of her tainted hand; each droplet sizzled away as it made contact with contaminated flesh.
It felt like something was growing within her and she would be ripped apart by it when it had finished blooming.
She had to beat him now; there was no other choice to be had. Even if she couldn't reverse her claim upon the Labyrinth as its Queen, she would not take Jareth as her husband.
Bile rose to her throat as she remembered how strongly she had desired his attention, to force him to look at her and only her. And yet, he had been watching her all along, just as she had been watching him to the detriment of all other details around her.
And now she had him; the thought made her shudder and it wasn't entirely from the disgust she swore she felt. He wanted her and hadn't cared what it would cost anyone else to keep on playing this game.
She wanted to cut out every sick part of her that felt flattered, that wanted to reach out to him again and feel the connection of his magic touching her, within her.
"You were the first to best my Labyrinth," Jareth spoke contemplatively, as though the woman he claimed he wanted to marry wasn't having a breakdown in front of him, "Even before they forgot me, none managed to seize control of this Kingdom."
"Didn't you have to beat it to become King?" Were they making small talk? She really was going insane, addled and twisted out of shape by his guiding hands.
"I suppose you could say it is mine by birthright." He countered her diagonal sweep to the end of the board with one of his own, mirroring her.
"A birth involving no mother," she tested, "What exactly are you?"
"What a question," the Goblin King chuckled, the sound could make feral beasts cower in fear, "What would you like me to be?"
"That isn't how it works. What are you?" Sarah reiterated, what kind of monster was he? For now she was certain that she was the same kind of monster.
"I am capricious and I am ever-changing. I am one and I am many." He bared his teeth into a smile that could snap sinew and bone, "I am your husband."
"Not yet, you aren't." Sarah corrected, hanging on to her sanity by a delicate thread. There would be no other runners or challengers; if she had to be stuck here in any capacity she would see this Labyrinth waste away and starve once more.
"Unfortunately, it is within the nature of Kingdoms to desire to enslave themselves to the will of their rulers. It has taken such a long time to find a worthy one." Jareth shifted his position. Sarah almost recoiled from the abject want radiating from his face as his eyes scoured her dirt-smeared hands and tear-streaked face, softening into a smile of satisfaction as he noticed her returning glare of hatred. "I believe it is my turn once more, precious thing."
The Goblin King planted both hands in the dirt, the fragile grooves worked into the mud warped and the board was distorted with the simple touch of his ungloved hands; his crystal rolled away whilst her stone was pushed more firmly into the earth, buried.
"What do you think your d-"
Hands slick with mud grasped the sides of her face, pulling her forwards into a messy kiss, the game forgotten beneath them.
She shouldn't be...she shouldn't be...be what?
It was so hard to think with his mouth pressed against hers, breathing in the same ragged air. Furious hands gripped her hair, keeping her from fleeing as he continued to plunder her mouth, his scorching tongue branding her. His skin was too hot, fevered to touch as she carelessly pulled him closer to warm her.
Triumphant eyes blazed as they met her own, from a face equally marked with dirt, his flower crown sat askew upon his silvery hair.
She needed to push him off, that was certain.
But she needed more, more of the fire that blazed inside of him, that caused the heat in her veins to sing in response.
Murderer, murderer, murderer, her mind screamed in protest.
She had been so cold, so terrified and horror-stricken. All of those bitter thoughts bled away into the earth he now had her pressed against on her back. Dizzying power swept through her, filling her with euphoria. His death grip changed into softer caresses against her waist and the brutal force of his mouth against hers, stealing away each breath she deigned to grant him, slowed into a gentler rhythm.
He pulled his mouth away to nip at the exposed flesh of her throat, marvelling as she arched into his attentions. "Humans are such curious creatures," he murmured, she merely moaned in response, dragging his hand higher up her blouse. "Saying one thing and meaning another." He rewarded her eagerness with a soft kiss to her brow, "So very difficult to predict; what a clever game you've brought us down here."
"Get off," she whispered, trying to gather a semblance of control. She wasn't supposed to be doing this, there was a reason...a reason...the reason was...
"I'll get you off," he promised her cheerfully.
He grasped her arm and she sighed in pleasure, watching the glorious lines of gold, fluttering beneath her skin, spread up past her elbow, feeling the heat trickle up to her collar bone and to her breasts. She wanted all of it, every ounce of power housed in him. She would never be cold again.
He chuckled at her sound of surprise as his sharp teeth dug in harder to her now exposed collar bone, buttons buried into the earth along with sticks and stones and whatever else they had been playing with.
"I've made my move little wife," he hissed into her ear. The term of address he used felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over her as she grew rigid beneath him. All of the lazy warmth and contentedness in the world couldn't battle against her renewed horror. The power he breathed and desired to share with her was built upon corpses and ruin.
"That's not a move," she slurred, head spinning from the onslaught of his attention.
"Oh yes it is," he pantomimed, "I can move however I like." Jareth sweetly kissed the corner of her mouth, watching her twist and buck beneath him with amusement, "There isn't a rule governing your actions my silver-tongued sweetheart. Silver-tongued with gold in your blood."
"No," she protested, freezing her desperate motions to push him off. He couldn't know, how could he possibly know?
"It is a very human game, this Game with One Rule," the Goblin King repeated for her benefit, now holding her down in the earth with so little force she could easily wiggle free of him if she could gather the strength needed. "The only rule that governs your pretty head and this game is the fallibility of human randomness and impulsivity. How terribly unfair on all those poor rule-abiding Fae you obliterated, searching relentlessly for something that wasn't there."
When she pushed against him this time, he seized both of her wrists, straddling her prone form. "How long have you known this?"
Had he been toying with her for all of these dreadful hours, humouring her pride and accomplishments?
This is what comes of challenging the Goblin King to a game that a seven-year-old saw through in five minutes, part of her thought snidely.
Oh Gods, Toby, her brother, her family. Would she ever see them again?
"I had to give you a sporting chance as it were, my lovely wife." He lowered his body over hers, keeping his lips millimetres from her own. Her skin throbbed where his hands made contact, unable to reject whatever he was flooding her body with, that was creeping towards the centre of her chest once more, just as it had done so the first time he kissed her.
"My lovely Sarah."
Jareth's victorious smile felt like a knife between her ribs, twisting away, uncaring of all of the organs it nicked in pursuit of her heart.
"Sarah, Sarah." He tasted her name on his tongue over and over again in elation, his eyes oddly joyous and achingly tender. He had no right to look at her in such a way.
She felt utterly pathetic, blubbering away beneath him, while he, her husband, lorded his triumph over her. He made the mistake of releasing one of her wrists to adjust her crown of flowers; chrysanthemum petals bled from it back into the ground from whence they sprung.
Given a moment of clarity, Sarah focused upon the searing heat in her veins, feeling it course and spread inside of her, multiplying into tributaries. What was the point in being a Queen, in having a will and a Kingdom as strong and as great as the King you were wed to if you had no power?
She had power in spades.
She could feel it writhing away inside of her.
Maybe a fragment of Nessa was still in there too.
Sarah gathered the heat and not-pain, the ever-churning torment in her blood and pushed.
The Goblin King was thrown back a good few metres, landing on his backside with a grunt. He lay there stunned for a moment before getting to his feet slowly, brushing off the dirt that now coated his gleaming onyx armour and streaked his face and hands. Upon his breastplate, there were two glowing handprints burnt onto the material.
Sarah started to scramble backwards; the high of the energy flowing through her had left her limbs jittery but not uncooperative as she too pulled herself to her feet, eyeing the advancing Goblin King with extreme caution. A short glance down at her hands confirmed that both of them shared the same peculiar affliction of aurelian mazes embedded within them.
What was she going to do, fight him?
The idea seemed ludicrous; she barely knew what she was doing with this new weapon he had inadvertently granted her.
No, she needed to lean on a weapon that was far truer. She needed to use her right words.
Sarah searched her mind desperately, for a single snippet or phrase, something to give her the upper hand. But the Fates didn't seem to be favouring her as Jareth continued to draw closer, toying with her.
Fates.
That sparked a memory, a memory told in the voice of her very own Goblin King.
"I invoke the Right of Rina," Sarah announced as imperiously as possible.
The Goblin King came to a sharp stop before her, eyes tightening with concentration as he sought to unpick the words thrown at him.
"There is no such Right."
"You told me that those with enough power and might could create their own rules," Sarah insisted, "I am a Queen and I decree that I have the right to flee from you for thirteen hours, if uncaught then you must release me from this sham of a marriage."
"You wound me precious Sarah," he pressed a hand to the approximate location of where his heart would be if he had one; an almost proud expression crossed his harsh features as he slotted one hand over the mark she left on him. "Am I neglecting you?"
"Stop it," she snapped, "You must know I don't want this. I don't want you."
For a moment an odd sheen came over his cruel eyes as he regarded her solemnly, whatever slim chance that he was contemplating mercy was shattered by the resurgence of vehemence and ferocity found in the contours of his inhuman grin.
"I don't care."
He stepped forward to seize her but she moved in sync, carefully pulling back from his possessive grasp and creeping back into the shadows of the garden. "You're acting like a petty child, twisting and changing your demands of me, just as you always have done. I won your competition and owe you nothing, Sarah."
Each utterance of the name he had long been denied the ability to speak was a reaffirmation of the power he sought to assert over her.
"But husband, you neglect me," Sarah flattered, each word was poison-laced honey. "You showed so little interest in me during our courtship." Because that was what it had been to him, their sick little game of conquest and murder built between the two of them.
"And how might I remedy that?" He breathed; she wouldn't trick herself for one second into believing that he was convinced by her display.
"You may have proven yourself worthy of being my spouse but you have yet to best me at a game more to your liking, you've yet to catch me," she taunted. "Won't you allow me the same chance that the Fates granted Rina from her Prince?"
The difference was she had no intention of allowing her King to capture her.
"I have caught you," he argued, "I've held you in my arms and I've held you against the dirt. In time I'll shackle you to my bed to remind you how thoroughly ensnared you are, my wife."
"Then why am I absent from your arms now, darling." She hissed the pet name back at him, eyes widening at the way he recoiled from her disdain.
She didn't need the scalding rush through her veins to tell her of the power she was wielding over him. The Goblin King faltered in his attempts to snatch at her, his eyes gleamed like mercury in the darkness of the Labyrinth as he considered her demand.
Quicksilver eyes to match your silver-tongue.
"It is funny that you should mention the Fates," his smile was stilted, still frowning as he mulled over his decision. "They add a flare of dramaticism to a story, don't they? Mention them and your tale is all the more credible." His cockiness returned as he noted the paleness of her face, "It was I that granted young Fallon, thirteen hours to capture his beloved." Jareth gave a short mirthless laugh. "I suppose I am a romantic at heart."
She dared not breathe.
"I could be persuaded to extend the same to my wife if you wish it, Sarah-mine."
~*o0o*~