CHAPTER SEVEN
The Twilight Festival. An annual celebration that involved food, dancing, bonfires and music. A celebration that the whole Goblin Kingdom celebrated simultaneously but separately in their own towns.
Last year Sarah had mostly looked after the younger Spriggets while Liam and Helena let loose. The year before Sarah stayed home with the younger children. This year the whole family was going but Helena had taken Sarah aside and informed her that she should try and have fun, so she wasn't responsible for the children this time.
Sarah raised a skeptical brow but let it go. Helena was well aware of the correspondence Sarah was receiving and sending. So naturally she had her suspicions about the nature of Terry and Sarah's friendship.
The day after Terry had left for his hometown, Sarah had received a letter from him.
Dearest Sarah,
I hope this finds you well. I hope you don't perceive this letter as an imposition but as soon as I arrived back home, my thoughts steered me towards the hope of seeing you again at the Twilight Festival. But with that being weeks away, I reassured myself that you wouldn't object to some correspondence to tide me over.
Our time together was brief but I feel it was well spent. I hope you don't find me too forward to say that I am intrigued by you and would like to get to know you better. I beg for the honour of a dance with you at the Festival.
I can only apologise that my brother was unavailable to send you his farewells when we departed yesterday. I hope you and your family are not too offended by him not paying his respects earlier.
The address listed is my home address, but by the time you receive this, I would have returned to my post in the Goblin Castle Gardens. The address for this is overleaf.
Until I hear from you,
Yours,
Terry Finn.
Sarah had replied the moment she could get her hands on a pen and paper.
Dear Terry,
Thank you so much for your letter. I would be honoured to accept a dance with you at the Fire Festival.
I have enjoyed our three days together and thank you wholeheartedly for the time you spent and the food you supplied. Despite the context of some of our discussions, I really enjoyed having someone to talk to.
I'm looking forward to the Festival.
Thank you again for your kindness.
Regards,
Sarah Williams.
Letters passed back and forth until it was the day of the Twilight festival. Now Sarah stood waiting in the garden for the Spriggets to walk down to the village green. She swished her deep purple skirts around her ankles as she whiled away the wait, watching the sun being swallowed by the horizon in a radiant burst of pinks and oranges.
"Here you go, finishing touches," Helena came out and placed a wreath of purple and dark blue flowers on Sarah's head. The purple matched the same shade of violet in her skirt, while the blue matched the necklace Helena had also lent her.
She made final checks of her white peasant blouse and adjusted her black cincher before she followed the children who were finally starting to trail down the street, all with different flowers weaved into their hair and clothing.
As they approached nearer to the village, music floated up to greet them. The sounds of fiddles and pipes filtered through the twilight, enticing the villagers to swiftly swell the crowds. Fairy lights hung from boughs of the trees and guided people towards the village green. Sarah was loathed to describe the scene as magical but it was the best descriptor available to her as she meandered through the burgeoning crowd towards the epicentre.
The bonfire. The huge centrepiece of the Green. Surrounded by revelers already dancing to the almost-Gaelic sounding tunes the nearby band was playing. Laughter and singing were also intermingling with the Irish-like Symphony.
Sarah had to resist the urge to join the fray and dance immediately as she felt the tendrils of the harmony crawl under her skin, causing goosebumps to rise up all over her arms, her limbs to become energised, and her heart to beat in time with the rhythm of the drums and strings.
She tore her attention away from the visual and sonic ambrosia and searched the crowds for any sign of Terry.
Her next sense to be ensnared was her sense of smell. The scent of many sweet and soulful culinary delights lingered around her; her stomach rumbling in response.
"Feel free to go off and explore," Helena said at her elbow. Sarah briefly wondered about Helena's constant encouragement to experience her freedom. The past two years she had barely got a break from watching the children or doing chores. Now she had been free to have walks or picnics, and now she could enjoy the festival without responsibility. "Make sure you get that handsome young man to court you officially."
Ah. That's what her game was. Sarah felt a rising blush as she contemplated everyone match making her with Terry. Especially after her promise to not ever get remarried. She brought an image of Toby into her mind to remind her why she wasn't going to get into a relationship while down here. At least not a meaningful one. Was that fair to Terry though? To have a casual relationship when 'courting' truly meant something down here?
"Helena, it's not like that," she grimaced. "I can help look after the children - "
"Seeing as though he saw you unchaperoned and he has written letters, it is pretty clear he has intentions to court you," Helena winked. "We wouldn't want to stand in your way, so don't worry about the children. They'll be fine with me and Liam, or Robby and Alicia. Us four can watch six children quite easily, Sarah. Go, have fun and enjoy yourself."
Sarah didn't bother pointing out that he saw her unchaperoned because Helena had urged her to go for the walk. Nor that it would be rude to ignore his letters. She watched as her friends disappeared into the crowd. And she turned to make her own way through the Festival.
"Hello, my dear," Terry grinned as she nearly collided with him. He was wearing tan form fitting pants, with dark brown boots. His shirt was white, and his brocade vest black with silver and gold swirling patterns, like the tendrils of vines etched into the fabric. In his brown hair he wore a wreath of autumn leaves and white daisies. Today his face was cleanly shaven, and less rugged than she was used to seeing him. His smile still lit up his features and warmed a part of her that she couldn't immediately identify.
"Terry," Sarah exclaimed, her shock and surprise engraved on her face.
"Sarah," he cocked his head to the side with a warm smile. "You're looking well."
"Thank you," Sarah smiled back, willing her blush to dampen. "It was this or an Aboveground cat suit"
"While this is probably more appropriate, I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious about the catsuit."
Sarah laughed to hide her embarrassment. "Of all the things I had to be kidnapped wearing, it had to be the catsuit. Why couldn't it have been a pair of track pants and a comfortable tee?"
"I'm not going to pretend I know what those items are, but it would be fairer to ask, why did you have to be kidnapped at all?"
Sarah sobered up instantly, and all she could muster was a sombre "yep."
"Apologies," Terry sighed and closed his eyes. "Shall we find something to eat? Unless you're waiting here for someone else."
"I wasn't waiting for anyone," Sarah answered too quickly, as they headed towards the food stalls. "But food sounds good."
The sudden recollection of the festival being coin and not barter based made her halt in her tracks. She had no coinage. She never had. Her stay with the Spriggets was based on her work on the farm. Her work on the farm allowed her to stay in the cottage. She was never paid. Admitting that with her Aboveground, Western sensibilities felt suddenly like despair.
She had been an independent, well paid woman in the Aboveground; living by herself (before and after her marriage), holding down a career and never relying on her ex husband for financial support. And if she was honest, never for emotional support either. She cringed at the thought of admitting she couldn't pay for any food herself. She also cringed at the fact Mark wasn't her ex husband legally. She had never signed those papers sitting waiting for her at home. How her life would have worked out differently if she had stayed at home to sign them, instead of going to the party with Hilary.
A sudden wave of recollection hit Sarah in the chest. Hilary would have no idea where she was, that she was safe. Two years here, could have been longer or shorter Aboveground, she had no idea. Hilary could be an elderly lady by now, still looking for her best friend that had disappeared at a party some 50 years earlier. Sitting there in her rocking chair surrounded by newspapers containing articles on the mysterious disappearance of the girl in the Catsuit. The guilt tore her up. So busy had she been, thinking about Toby, that Hilary had barely crossed her mind. And here she was worrying about not being able to pay her way at a fair.
She decided not to say anything and just pretend she wasn't hungry. She wasn't about to let a man pay for her, and she wasn't going to admit she couldn't take care of herself despite her sudden misgivings about Hilary's fate. She pushed past her feelings and followed Terry to the food carts and stalls ignoring the tantalising aromas that were making her dependence even harder to bear.
"What do you feel like first? A meat pasty or perhaps some of the pulled meat buns?"
"I am not that hungry, actually," Sarah lied. "But please don't let me stop you."
Terry eyed her skeptically with one dark finely arched brow. "I am ravenous, and so you definitely can't stop me from eating, but you're missing a treat."
They moved to a stall where Terry ordered both a pasty and a bun. Sarah tried not to let her hunger show on her face. They sat under a tree where they could watch the dancing which distracted Sarah from her desire to jump Terry just for a bite of his delectable food.
"Are you sure you're not hungry?" Terry asked. "I don't mind sharing half of my meal with you."
"Thank you, but I'm fine," she lied again.
"I tell you what," he laughed. "I will cut it in half and if you're hungry later, then you can eat it then."
"If I wanted food, I could get some myself," a third lie. "But thank you."
"Is it some Aboveground thing that you can't accept kindness from another human being, or is that just you?"
"I accept kindness when absolutely necessary," Sarah mumbled, affronted.
"So if you're hungry, please let me provide food."
Sarah stared off into the distance wildly uncomfortable. She reminded herself it was a different culture here and men and women were on the whole mostly equal.
"Tell me, if a Princess is a first born would she be the next Queen or would a younger son be the heir?"
"That's a bit of a segue from food, Sarah," he chuckled. "But it is determined on age not sex. Otherwise based on the logic of males before birth order, our King Jareth would have been made King of his older sister, Nudalun's Principality instead of the Goblin Kingdom. Queen Nudalun rules over Haddoyne, a Principality belonging to the Kingdom of Navas, where their father rules. However Haddoyne has more prestige and wealth than the Goblin Kingdom, therefore she got right of rule before the remaining younger sons."
"I see," Sarah nodded, fixing her flower crown as she talked. "I knew he had a younger brother but I confess I have avoided any political history lessons."
"To be fair, it is my understanding that our King Jareth doesn't have much of do with Prince Omre or Queen Nudalun."
"Prince Omre?"
"He is the heir to Navas, and the King's oldest son. When his parents pass on, he shall rule over the entire Kingdom including the two Principalities. Right now he is pretty much doing that as his mother is dead and his father and step mother are all but retired. He is King in practice but Prince by name."
At Sarah's lost look, Terry elaborated for her.
"So Navas is a Kingdom that encompasses both the Goblin Kingdom and Haddoyne. Both are Principalities, independently run, but the heads are still responsible to the ruling Monarch of Navas. The King of Navas, King Effistod, has four children. His first son is Omre who is the heir and regent while his father holds the title in name only. Next comes Nudalun who rules over the prestigious Principality of Haddoyne. Then with Effistod's new wife, he had King Jareth, King of the Goblin Kingdom and Lord of the Labyrinth. Sevlydi the youngest is the heir of the Goblin Kingdom. And 6th in line for the throne of Navas as Nudalun has two children of her own. King Jareth is the High King's cousin. Most of the royal family are related to each other somehow."
"I see. The two oldest have different mothers."
"Yes."
"I'm very familiar with living with a step mother and being the oldest. They have my condolences."
"Don't be so quick to offer them sympathy. You hate the Goblin King, but by comparison the two older siblings are what you may actually consider as evil. They are after all the ones that condone the Stolen Pearl trade."
Sarah could see hatred carved into every fine line on Terry's face. Any further discourse died in her throat. She nodded and looked away, swallowing the lump that had formed at the venom in his voice.
"Tell me what all this has to do with food," he commanded in a softer, kinder tone.
"I am not used to people paying for me. I pay my own way in my world. I needed some proof that this world isn't so backwards when it comes to women before I accept any kindness. The fact women can rule, is at least a step in the right direction, ignoring their role in the kidnapping of innocent children of course."
"Sarah, I admire your independence but what I admire most is the way you have gained the help and respect of the Underground. It is not shameful to be a part of a community, rather than independent from it."
"You sound like my high-school social studies teacher, he was big on socialism and communism."
"I don't have any clue to what you are referring to, but yes, here in Ghent especially, living socially and in a community is far more appreciated than-"
"- Capitalism, every man, or woman, for themselves, got it," Sarah smiled. "In that case, I would love to try a pasty."
It was warm, spicy, meaty deliciousness; pure comfort food. And coupled with the resonant, uplifting music, she was in sensory heaven.
"Do you like the music?"
"I love it," Sarah sighed. "It is invigorating."
Sarah found herself tapping her foot in time to the beat of the drums as she watched dancers with flowy dresses twirl and swirl around each other, like leaves in the breeze.
"I am quite keen to show you some of the sweet treats on offer and then would you like to dance?"
Sarah nodded. "I have had my eyes on those pastries for a while now."
And what pastries they were. Filled with fruit and cream, and just a sugar filled extravaganza for their taste buds. When they finished their treats as they moved through the crowd, towards the dancing.
Terry took Sarah's hand and they joined the dancers in a lively folk jig. Twisting, and turning, and linking arms together to twirl themselves around. Sarah made more than one misstep that devolved into almost hysterics as they bumped into each other.
"I told you I wasn't much of a dancer," Sarah panted as the lilting music swelled and increased its tempo.
"I think you're doing a splendid job," he grinned as he caught her from falling yet again. "This is a complicated dance."
When that piece ended, Terry took her to the edge of the dance space to catch her breath, still holding her hand.
"Sarah if you don't mind, I am just going to take you over there to be close to your friends, the Spriggets," Terry squeezed her hand before releasing it. "I've just spotted my brother and I shall have words with him"
"Stephen is here?" Sarah looked through the field of people but couldn't see him.
"I shall not be long, and I will return to you shortly," was all he said as he directed her towards the Spriggets. Some of her friends were lounging on the side of the dancers while the others were in the thick of things. He left her with the Spriggets, and disappeared into the fold of people.
"How have you been enjoying the evening?" Helena asked with a wink.
"It has been quite pleasant, actually," Sarah answered honestly, turning her face away with a smug smirk. She wouldn't allow herself to be teased like a blushing virgin.
"Sawah, dance," came Peggy's sweet voice and two pudgy hands tugging on her skirts.
Sarah let the toddler lead her back into the fray, the music now sonorous and rich with heavy drums and fiddles. The dancers were moving more sensually and dramatically than when she had shared a dance with Terry.
Sarah had got lost in the music, twirling the small body of Peggy around and laughing deeply with the child's outpouring of joy. She didn't notice someone approaching from behind until she looked up and caught Helena's face pale and her lip quiver. She flicked her eyes to Liam who was wearing a similar expression. Sarah frowned and turned around to glance behind her in the direction Helena and several other onlookers had started staring in.
In her periphery of sight, she noticed people starting to bow and curtsy. She didn't need any more clues to tell her who the stranger behind her was. It felt an age but finally she had turned around to face him.
Him.
The Goblin King.
For the first time in fifteen years she again stood face to face with her brother's kidnapper. Her childhood villain. The fae who offered her her dreams. He stood there, all sharp angles and wild blonde hair like he hadn't aged a day. She guided Peggy to stand behind her, as she stared him down.
The music had dulled under the sound of her own blood roaring in her ears. He had finally found her. There was a slim chance he wouldn't be able to identify her, so she sucked in a lung full of oxygen to keep the panic at bay.
His mismatched blue eyes pierced her as they made eye contact. She saw he recognised her in an instant. All hope was lost. Still, she pushed her shoulders back and held firm as his eyes travelled down her body, slowly and lasciviously before they flicked back up to her face.
"So you're Underground," he said in clipped tones.
Sarah resisted the urge to answer with a sarcastic 'obviously.' Her body felt like it was in a clamp; tight and unmoving.
"As you see," was all she could manage through her dry throat and parched lips. Her heavy tongue wouldn't even allow her to say it with a hint of sarcasm.
He just smirked and raised an eyebrow. Was that his default setting? She waited for him to rain hellfire down on her or set the guards on her. But he just continued to smirk.
"Just as long as you're staying away from the rock caller, and not destroying the Goblin City," he gave her a devious grin, sharp teeth glinting in the light of the bonfire.
Sarah flinched but remained silent, only lifting her chin higher in defiance of her accuser.
"Do you not have anything to say, if your lines aren't scripted for you?" he sneered.
"I have nothing to say to you," her mouth barely cooperated, before she looked away in hopes of finding Terry.
"Then I will take my leave from you," he shrugged, and turned away to melt into the crowd. All at once her lungs and blood started working again.
That was it? He was going to ignore her? No repercussions? Just a mild derision and then a dismissal? Sarah turned to see many faces peering at her. She ignored them and turned back to Peggy and resumed their dance, not able to regain complete composure at their brief but unexpected meeting.
Jareth had removed his human glamour with the intent of engaging with Sarah but upon reaching her and seeing her clam up, he no longer could find the words to justify escorting her away from her friends. She had held herself well, given her shock and surprise, but he could almost taste the hatred radiating from her as she partook in their stilted and brief conversation.
Revealing himself to Sarah wasn't going to plan. Not as Jareth nor as Terry. He never considered himself a coward, but he just couldn't brave destroying what they had built up as Terry and Sarah. One more night. He promised himself just one more night to savour her without their history getting in the way.
He thought of the cold, steely way she looked at him as Jareth, compared to the soft, warm way he had grown accustomed too. He just needed one more night, and then he would be honest with her.
With that in mind, he conjured up an illusion of himself as he returned to his Terry glamour. His illusion-self strutted off towards the dancers, as he retreated back to the festivities to find his wife.
When Terry rejoined her, she tore her eyes away from the King to sink into Terry's warm, brown eyes. She gave him a wobbly smile and then looked back into the mass of writhing dancers.
"Are you quite well Sarah?" He asked, placing a warm hand on her shoulder.
"He knows I'm here," she squeaked out. After Jareth had walked away, she returned Peggy to her family at the end of their dance. She'd then sculled back a goblet of wine to lubricate her dry mouth and unstick her brain from a continuous loop of self torture.
"Who knows..."
Sarah pointed to the Goblin King dancing with a finely dressed blonde woman who was all but draped over him. "He knows."
"Ah," a sigh. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened. He said I could stay if I didn't destroy the Goblin City again and then he left."
"Will you destroy the Goblin City again?"
"Yes, but only if he takes my brother again. Or harm anyone that I - that I love."
Terry didn't respond aside from a clicking noise at the back of his throat.
"Other than that, probably not. I have no intentions to waltz in and destroy the Goblin City for the fun of it. Those goblins don't deserve that. I'd quite enjoy contaminating his hair products with egg mayonnaise or Bog water, but no that's too obvious. Perhaps super glue or food colouring. Maybe both super glue and food colouring. Oh, I know, super glue, and food colouring, mixed with a dash of bog water - so it is undetectable - and a handful of bitey, sucky insects. Maybe fleas or ticks or mites. Perhaps that is a stretch too far. What would Matilda do? I will have a think."
Terry shook his head at her ramblings. "Aside from not having not the slightest clue who Matilda is, don't you think that's below you?"
"Pfft, it's just hair. It'll grow back. Matilda is a character from a book that is treated badly by her parents and she discovers she has telekinesis and uses it to play tricks on her parents, and other people that bully her. And he could probably just poof it back into shape with magic. Though I wouldn't really say it's in shape now. It's like a bird's nest that has been blown by the wind and caught in a spider's web. I'd just love to see the expression in his smug face when he has neon bright hair stuck together in clumps of glue. That would wipe that perennial smirk off his mug. I imagine he'd look just like you do now."
Terry's face had drawn into tight lines of horror mingled with disgust at Sarah's rambling tirade that she spewed out in one breath. His face relaxed into a neutral expression at the mirth plastered on Sarah's face.
"I'm joking, I won't mess with your Precious King's Precious hair, don't worry."
"Sarah have you been drinking since we last spoke?"
"You're going to judge me for that now?"
"Not at all. I just wondered if you would like a refill of your glass?"
"Oh, yes please," Sarah closed her eyes in her brief embarrassment. Terry took her goblet and meandered off towards the wine merchant. She watched him go wondering if there was such a thing as an Underground date rape drug.
Of course there was. The peach was an example of that. She blanched at the thought of her drink being spiked and turned to look back at the one who had given her the peach all those years ago.
He was still twirling the blonde woman around, but now a dark haired lady in a red dress, gracefully danced up to him and with a few elegant arm movements, she had enticed the King into dancing with her instead. The blonde moved to the side looking a bit put out, as the Goblin King swayed to the full-bodied, melodious music with the lady in red. As she watched she realised he was watching her in return, knowing instinctively where to place his hands on his partner, while his eyes were fixed on Sarah.
The red lady had shimmied up to him and spun around so her back was now facing his chest, and without touching her he ran his hands along her outline from her hair down her body to her hips, all while staring at her. It was perhaps the most erotic thing she had witnessed that didn't even involve physical contact. He then spun the dark haired dancer in red away and was rejoined by the blonde, who he then swept down into a dip before bringing her back up for a kiss.
Sarah looked away with an unknown feeling roiling in her stomach and was surprised to see Terry had rejoined her.
"Did you enjoy that?" his voice husky and low.
"The dancing was certainly enthralling," she fibbed. "Hey, did you find your brother?"
"Not yet, I will have another look for him soon. I just wanted to get back to you."
Sarah flushed as she accepted the wine goblet. She stared into its depths, feeling uncertain about imbibing its contents.
"Sorry, but I'm suddenly not wanting this drink," she offered the cup back. "I'm just going to go for a walk. I will be right back."
"Sarah?" he called.
"Just ablutions, Terry, I will be right back."
She missed public toilets. Even portaloos. But as she made her way into the forest to find a perfect tree to squat behind, she turned her mind over to thinking.
Should she run? Now he had seen her and was apparently almost all but completely indifferent towards her, was she safe or unsafe? More uncertainty than ever had crept into her thoughts where He was concerned.
She had allowed her thoughts to be tainted by him in regards to Terry too. He probably hadn't spiked the drink, but she just couldn't trust him. Or anyone. Especially in such close proximity to the one who had drugged her previously. It hasn't stopped her eating or drinking anything Terry had supplied before, but now - now she had learnt to be cautious.
Seeing her blonde, blue eyed, lithe nemesis again had stirred things deep inside her, including her unfathomable mistrust she had of men. Terry deserved better than her mistrust. At least she hoped he deserved better, and that she hadn't been deceived by yet another male.
Sarah finished her business and then taking a deep breath, cleaned herself up and started to head back to the festival. She stopped marching back towards the village to embrace the ambiance of mellow music mingled with laughter and singing, entwined with nature, taking deep satisfying breaths as she re-centered herself.
She was taken out of her meditations by a sudden twig snapping sound from her left. She peered into the gloomy trees for any sign of life, before scurrying off to rejoin the safety of the open ground.
Meffod and Yarbro stood on the periphery of the Twilight Festival, not able to get any closer than the trees surrounding the village green. The magic that surrounded the thief of their child was too strong for them to penetrate.
"The King has found her and protected her," Meffod snarled as she stared into the haze of smokey bodies hidden by powerful magic. "She's here though, this crystal that His Highness gave us to find her is very clear about that."
"Why don't we just join the party and lure her away?" Yarbro suggested.
"Under everyone's noses? We wouldn't get two feet before that poxy joke of a King smited us where we stood. Glib was very clear in telling us his intentions. He isn't about to let his future wife waltz off with us."
"She is merely a mortal- "
"I am not going through this ag-"
"A? A what?"
"Shh, you dolt, there she is."
Their prey stood no more than a few metres away from their very hiding spot, swaying in time to the music, humming along as if lost in a trance. Yarbro shot forward with the intention of grabbing her, stepping on a twig violently in the process. Sarah's head shot around to peer into the darkness towards them.
Meffod hissed at Yarbro to remain hidden and Sarah turned away and hurriedly strolled back into the public space, disappearing as if swallowed by mist.
"You clumsy oaf," Meffod growled. "That was our one chance."
Sarah nudged her way through the throng of people looking for Terry. She saw him on the edge of the dancers and made her way in his direction. The music was lively now and people were laughing as they switched partners and swirled around each other like tame, non destructive tornadoes.
Apparently they picked up anything in their wake as Sarah found herself caught up by the magnetic force of the dancers, laughing in her turn as she was spun around and passed from partner to partner.
As her last partner spun her into the arms of her next partner, her laughter died on her face as Jareth's hands clamped onto her waist. She instantly made to wiggle free, but he just held her tighter. His hands were encased in dove grey gloves, but even through them and her cincher, she could feel his heat as though his hands were made of hellfire themselves.
Sarah looked towards Terry and saw him calmly standing there with Stephen, both watching with nondescript expressions painted on their faces. She tried to convey all her urgency in her brief stare, before she felt herself being dragged by the Goblin King into the slower dance that had conveniently just started.
Sarah ground her teeth and gave one more futile struggle to release herself from his grasp.
"Why are you struggling so?" Jareth's baritone cut through as he moved one gloved hand from her waist, in a slow sweeping motion up her back and down her arm to claim her hand. The heat emanating from his palm left searing tracks up her torso and down her arm, leaving goosebumps tingling in its wake at the sudden deprivation of his warmth.
Sarah gave an involuntary shiver as she turned her defiant eyes to his.
"I can't imagine why," Sarah answered with all the warmth of an iceberg in frigid Antarctic waters.
"You let all these strangers fondle you, and yet the very thought of one who is known to you, having a single dance with you, offends you so?"
"Again, stating the obvious, Goblin King," Sarah arched a brow as he moved them elegantly around the dance, led by flutes and violins in harmony. A shudder rippled from where his hand seared her skin above the hip. His nimble fingers made slight movements along her waist increasing the intensity of those ripples, spreading them across her entire body.
"Is there someone here who you'd rather be in the arms of?" he asked, inclining his head before dramatically turning to look in Terry's direction. She followed his movements with her own eyes and turned away from Terry in an instant. Out of shame? Embarrassment? Self preservation? She wasn't sure. She just didn't want Jareth to see her looking at him.
"Literally anyone," she quipped, bringing his wintry steel blues back to her.
"You're so cold, my lady," he smirked. "The last time we danced, you seemed a bit more receptive, at least to begin with."
"Last time I was drugged," Sarah ground out through a dry mouth. Any moisture had left her mouth and was coming out in the form of sweat on her palms. One clutched in the Goblin King's vicious grasp and the other she had pressed against his emerald green jacket to try and put some distance between their respective bodies. Her finger brushed the medallion glinting off his chest as she splayed her fingers to reinforce her pushing endeavours. A small pulse of power shot through from the medallion and up her finger, like static shock.
Jareth just rolled his eyes skyward and tisked before he pulled her even tighter. Her hand pressing harder against his chest, her finger grazing his pendant with more force, shooting stronger pulses through the contact, her exertion for release even more futile than before. She could feel the hard line of his body, including unmentionable parts solidifying against her soft curves. The heat emanating from him was sweltering, making her efforts to push away even more in vain. The irony of her straining for release, as his cock was striving for the same thing against his pants, was not lost on her.
"Do you think you could perhaps just stop straining to break free just for a minute?" both eyebrows raised in question.
"You're holding me against my will."
"I am your King, it is my will that you dance with me," he declared.
Pompous twat.
"You are not my K-"
"Oh, but I am," he interrupted. "The villagers here have informed me that you have been living in Ghent for over two years. That makes you very much a subject of the Goblin Kingdom. And very much a subject of mine."
"I didn't choose to be kidnapped down here," Sarah snarled. "And you have no p-"
"A dance, Sarah, is all I am expecting of you. It's not like I am requiring you to marry me."
Sarah threw her head back and laughed. "I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man left on Earth, Above or Underground. It's safe to just include the entire universe, while we're at it. An alien has more chance of making me consider matrimony."
"Come now, there must be someone you hate more than me. Your kidnappers perhaps or -"
"No, Goblin King, you are mistaken. You have the honour of being my very worst enemy. Congratulations."
They both went quiet as the dance slowed to a stop and the next number started up. Sarah yanked herself free, the moment she felt him loosen his grip. Without even a backwards glance she made her way to Terry, tears brimming in her eyes, causing spots of light to float in her sight.
As she reached Terry, her blurry vision caused her to stumble and two strong hands caught her around her waist, righting her in an instant.
"Sarah, are you alright?" Terry asked, his voice soothing and calming.
"No, that loathsome King of yours - "
"What did he do?" Stephen asked from beside Terry, his features pinched as he frowned at her.
"He forced me to dance with him, put his hands all over me and he was rude and obnoxious," Sarah spilled out, feeling infantile in her emotional disclosure as she felt Terry's hands release her.
"One often has to make contact to dance with a partner," Terry pointed out.
"I did not want to dance with him," Sarah spat.
"He is King," Terry took a deep breath. "If he wants us to dance, we dance."
"Just because he is used to getting his own way, doesn't mean he always should," Stephen countered.
"Exactly," Sarah clapped her hands in mock celebration at his statement. "It's good to see you again, Stephen, by the way."
"Thank you, you too," he gave a feeble smile.
"I think I will go home now," Sarah rubbed the back of her neck feeling awkward and out of place after her run in with the Goblin King.
"You're right, he should have probably asked you for a dance or let you go," Terry conceded. "He is a fool."
Stephen raised both eyebrows at his utterance as Sarah nodded slowly in agreement.
"Sarah, before you go, would you please have one more dance with me?" Terry implored.
"Sure, but then can you escort me home?" Sarah queried. She would be on the complete backfoot if Jareth set upon her with no magic at her disposal. At least with Terry she wasn't alone if he attacked her. And if she was murdered at the hands of the Goblin King, at least Terry would see the truth of his Monarch before he too was probably slaughtered. She had rapidly tired of his hero worship of the Goblin King. It momentarily occurred to her that she was possibly sentencing him to his doom, and a better person wouldn't risk someone else's life by bringing them along on a jaunt into unknown danger. She wasn't a better person right now.
"Of course, my lady."
Sarah let him lead her back to the dancing, holding her close to his body as they slowly moved together. Sarah felt relaxed and at ease in his arms, compared to when Jareth had danced with her. She felt compelled to tell him so.
"Terry, I feel safe with you, did you know that?"
"No I didn't, but that's nice of you to say," he smiled as he tightened his fingers around her waist and squeezed her fingers. "I feel safe with you too."
She peered up at him, their faces so close she thought he would lean in, bridge the distance and kiss her. Their breaths mingled as she parted her lips in anticipation.
"I am quite fortunate to have made a friend in you," he smiled, angling his head away from her, making it very clear no kiss was going to be shared between them. Sarah looked away, before she had a chance to feel her own mortification creep upon her.
She saw The Goblin King standing in the shadows watching her dance with Terry. Earlier she had wanted to protect Terry from any consequences the Goblin King may have spitefully administered, but now she felt the urge to hold Terry and in turn be held.
She pushed herself closer to him, feeling the hard planes of his body right against her. She rested her head on his shoulder. His response to her in a certain part of his anatomy stirred in her feelings that were more compatible with her conscience than her earlier dance with the Goblin King.
"Thank you for being a friend in this world," she whispered into his neck.
He gripped her tighter, his hand spread across her back. "Thank you, Sarah."
His hushed tones sent shivers down her spine that she relished. Her introspection on not starting a relationship slipped from her mind as she was held tightly, warmly and with care.
"When will I see you next?"
"We will arrange something via letters, hmm? And soon!"
As promised he walked her back to the cottage, the music ebbing away with the distance they crossed, until it was a low hum, almost drowned out by the last of the season's crickets chirping from the hedgerows. Outside the door to Cloverfield Cottage, he kissed the back of her hand as always and then brought his free hand up to cup her cheek. She saw many emotions flicker across his brown eyes, before settling on a sort of wistfulness.
"I look forward to seeing you again, My Sarah."
When Sarah told him she felt safe with him, he almost told her right then who he really was. He also almost kissed her. Oh how he had been sorely tempted to meld his lips with hers, as she stared innocently into his eyes, her rosy mouth so close to his he could feel her heat. He could almost taste her, she was that close. He could see the darker speckles and lines of green in her verdant eyes. He longed to run the pad of his thumb over the freckle on her upper lip, to tangle his fingers through her luscious brown locks, and rub his nose against her elegant, slightly turned up nose.
But something in him snapped then. He couldn't kiss her, he shouldn't kiss her and he wouldn't kiss her. Not as Terry. He was already deceiving her. He couldn't take advantage of her physically as he was already doing enough of that emotionally and mentally.
He ported back to his castle to find a fuming Sevlydi sitting askance in his throne.
"What are you doing in my throne Sev?"
"Waiting for an explanation from you. You said you would tell her the truth, that I could then go back to my life, see Rica again without worrying about my big brother? Or worrying that he'd make himself vulnerable? But what do I find? A coward who doesn't own up to the truth, who deceives his supposed future wife further, and then treats her abysmally when he is his true self.
"Tell me brother, how far will you push her? Will you be married to her before she knows the truth? Or are you waiting until she has borne you children?"
Jareth glared silently at his youngest sibling. His mouth a grim ilne. His eyes narrowed slits.
"How many times did you create an illusion to trick her, Jareth? How many times did you deceive her into thinking you couldn't possibly be the same person?"
"Tonight didn't go to plan," Jareth conceded, marching up to his throne. "But if you ever sit in MY throne again while I live to draw breath, there will be consequences."
Sev languidly stood up and strutted down the dias like a cat, both eyebrows raised and his usually tame blonde hair flaring around his head like the mane of a lion.
"You will be the one who receives consequences," Sevlydi warned. "You think your mortal will forgive you for your deception? You think Omre and Nudalun will wait for you to mend your bridges with the human after you break her fragile heart? Do you think they will stop at destroying you? Do you think Rica and I will come out unscathed at the end of all this?
Do you think of anyone but yourself?"
"How does this affect you and Rica?"
"You think Omre and Nudalun will stop their punishments with you? If they realise I've been helping you - aiding and abetting you, to marry anyone but their selected wife, Forsythia, they will try to bring me down too. And what better way, then, to bring me to court for my illegal relationship with Rica?"
A crash reverberated around the throne room as a clumsy goblin dropped a water goblet across the stone floor.
"Watch what you're doing, Glub," Jareth scowled, rubbing his temples.
"It's Glib, not Glub," the Goblin answered back.
"Excuse me?"
"Apologies, Majesty," with a low bow the Goblin scuttled off.
Jareth turned back to his wayward brother. "I understand your concern. I have a plan."
A/N: This chapter was influenced heavily by the 1996 version of Michael Flatley's Lord of the Dance. If you listen to the soundtrack or watch the film while reading, it will really help you live this chapter.
Thank you to all my reviewers and followers. I am well chuffed with the support. :D
Pro-tip: Next chapter things start speeding up and we will see some more Sarah Vs. Jareth. Isn't he a different creature when he is himself vs. Terry?