And after over a year of total silence, the story continues! Thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy it! I own nothing except my own OCs.
What business did eyelids have, being so damn heavy?
Just a thin membrane of skin lightly dusted with feathery lashes. But to Sarah, they felt as if they were made of lead, gold, or something else obscenely heavy. And she couldn't for the life of her get them open, the exhaustion was too great. So instead she tried opening her ears.
At first, that too seemed a mistake because every little noise seemed to ricochet in the shell of her ear like an obnoxious bullet. But it did reap some reward, unlike her seemingly useless eyes.
"My lord you-you have to understand, this is highly irregular. I hardly have a grasp on what she is. Let alone how to treat her. I must consult with the healer's council. Naturally, I'll have to inform their majesties. The only thing I can safely recommend at this time is rest, and plenty of it."
Some clicking and clacking of instruments being put away. Along with Jareth's sharp intake of breath like he meant to protest. But it left him slowly as he said with an edged courtesy. "Of course. Thank you for coming so quickly."
"Happy to serve my lord. I shall return the very moment I have any worthy answers." Then his feet were retreating loudly out of a door.
Finally, her eyes seemed to accept curiosity as appropriate fuel and she slowly cracked them open. Seeing only Jareth's back and he stood looking at the closing door with his hands on his hips. She couldn't see his eyes, but she felt the glare he was throwing at the healer as he departed.
"Jareth…" her voice was wispy, dry, and cracked. His head whipped around and in the next moment, he was kneeling by the side of her bed with her hand in his. Pressing a light, reverent kiss onto it. He said nothing, the relief in his body language was so great that his voice was overridden.
She tried to swallow but her throat felt like sand. "Water."
He nodded obediently and picked up a full glass from her nightstand, helping her sit up enough to take a few tiny sips before committing to larger gulps. She sighed in relief. "Much better."
In the back of her mind, she became aware of that same presence from before, albeit quieter and gentler. Seeming to only be watching over her with love and concern. Somehow, it gave her some extra strength. Enough to sit up properly. She wracked her mind and tried to reassemble the pieces of the odd magical memories she had.
"I felt…"'
"The Labyrinth." Jareth finished for her. "I could feel you with it. When it reached out to me, as it does in times of urgency." His voice was soft and trepidatious as if testing the waters of this conversation.
She gripped his hand tighter, her arthritis flaring again but she ignored it.
"Yes, I-I felt you too."
For a moment they just stared at each other, both at a complete loss for words. All she knew was that she wasn't ready for this conversation. Not yet. What would she even say? How could she even begin to reciprocate? A silly old woman falling apart at the seams. She winced at the sharp pain in her hands redoubling and looked up into Jareth's furrowed brow.
If only she could see what he'd been seeing.
She'd been unconscious a long while, but her body had been anything but still. She was fluctuating wildly, her apparent years skating back and forth between 40 and 100 with such irregular rapidity that her body had been thrown into some sort of fever from the magical stress.
It took working up the ladder of healing disciplines to finally find the man who had the wherewithal to at least stabilize her enough to get her out of immediate danger of coming undone. But even that was sheer luck, a patchwork spell cobbled together from a sleeping draft and a charm that normally held great stone buildings in place.
His heart squeezed as she winced at her hands, and her face took on another 10 years. Taking care not to hurt her, he simply stroked her hand with the back of his thumb. It was torture for him to watch. They had to figure it out together, although that was going to be an entirely different kind of difficult.
"Sarah, what just now has caused you pain?" he asked softly.
She shook her head dismissively, "Just the pain in my hands. I've had it for years."
"You didn't have it when you took out more than a score of enemy soldiers from the top of my carriage." He noted pointedly.
Her eyes glazed over with deep thought, trying to remember the strange events more clearly.
"No I-I suppose I didn't. I was too preoccupied with saving you...saving everyone."
"And you certainly did not have it when you struck me." He said with a raised eyebrow
She ducked her head, "I apologize for that, I don't have a habit of resorting to violence."
Jareth shook his head, "I well deserved it. The point is, why not then but why now? You don't have arthritis, strictly speaking, because you don't have bones anymore. Not in the traditional sense. So why are you in pain? What really causes it?"
She thought about it for a moment as she regarded him somberly.
How can I possibly tell him? How can I explain what it feels like to hate yourself? To despair for what can never be?
God breathing was such a chore sometimes.
She laid back again gently, taking back her hand and trying to hide her fatigue. She may be old and tired, but you are never too decrepit to lie through your teeth.
"I don't know." She whispered.
Jareth rose from his kneeling to sitting on the side of the bed. He was no mind reader, but he wasn't an idiot. However, he didn't want to press. Not just yet, she was still too fragile.
"Well then." He said carefully, "We shall find out together. We must determine what it is that destabilizes you so that we can prevent it. I-we almost lost you there. The labyrinth's power is very strong. You'll need to be training your strength in order to coexist with it, let alone wield it as I do."
She rolled onto her side a bit and laid her head down on his shoulder. Closing her eyes again.
"That sounds exhausting."
He gently picked up her hand again and rested his head on hers.
"I will be with you. And I'll help however I can, I swear."
The only answer was her deep even breathing, sound asleep.
For several moments he merely savored the sound of the breath which had nearly been stolen from him forever, twice now.
Carefully he reached inside his magic and felt for the presence of the Labyrinth.
She's so weak.
She's so strong.
What if we lose her?
We will not. I can bear it.
Bear what?
But only silence answered him, the great Maze is above all else the keeper of its own council.
Silence that is, until a banging sounded from one of their trunks.
"Lady? Kingy?! Lets me outs!"
Meanwhile, dripping in wealth and glamor while fuming with discontent. The High King of Avalon and his wife poured over and passed between them, again and again, the report that the healer had sent them.
Along with Jareth's report of their accostment on the road. They stood alone in the King's offices which were in and of themselves a palace in their own right. Gold and jewels adorned every surface, but there was no warmth in all the glittering brightness. Titania's icy voice was the first to speak in the imperious silence.
"The mortal has scarcely been in our lands for a wingbeat and already there's this mess. Imagine what will happen if our enemies get wind of this? Such an unexpected agent of chaos dropped into our laps and we must quietly suffer the consequences? I cannot bear the pedestrian nature of that which cannot be subdued. She must be dealt with. And at once, I can think of several methods. Even if none of them work it will at least be diverting-"
Her husband flicked his eyebrows up at his impetuous and sadistic wife.
"She is under the sacrosanct protection of the great beast. For now, we must bid our time. Our enemies would be more grateful still if we antagonized The Labyrinth. We depend on its power more than you care to admit my dear. Now hold your accursed tongue. Our official disposition on the matter is gracious curiosity. Do not defy me."
Bitterly she did as he bid, with a small curtsy, and left to room in a sour breeze. As if he had been dismissed and not her. He pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation before ringing a silver bell.
An extremely beautiful young Fae woman appeared at his side seamlessly.
"My lord." she purred. She was a picture, a paragon of young and promising passion. Wholly devoted to him and him alone. He could always smell the anticipation on her whenever he called. There was no substitute for a truly loyal servant.
He smiled softly at her and raised his hand to gently caress her chin.
"Delila." he said warmly. She was so tempting, but there was very little time for these sorts of distractions. He took his hand back as those large blue eyes pouted at him.
"Bring me the spymaster. I have much to discuss with him. But...do return again after her Majesty has retired."
She sunk into a deep, ingratiating curtsy. "Right away, your Majesty." And soon was gone again, taking the sweet perfume of utter submission with her.
He looked again at the reports, starting a collection that surely more would be added to once his eyes and ears started to come forward with more information.
"Sarah Williams. You certainly have captured my attention."