CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The two days before the ball, passed in a blur of organisation, dress-fittings and mayhem. Sarah had attempted, with Jareth's aid, to contact Hilary through a mirror portal to no avail. Aside from meals, she barely saw Jareth. She didn't want to admit that it irked her somewhat to mostly be in the company of goblins, instead of spending her time with Jareth. Perhaps that was how he had felt for all these isolated years.
Having learnt his ancestor was a human, Sarah couldn't help but think it softened him, and she appreciated how lonely Jareth must be in his castle for all existence.
She was softening, but she wasn't detracting her claws just yet.
The morning of the ball, she rose early and broke her fast alone in her room. She was sensing an increase in her nerves at the thought of being presented to all those people. She wondered if she would know anyone. Jareth had told her that her friends would be present, but she never clarified which friends he was alluding to.
After breakfast, various goblins visited her, tying up loose ends. Sarah had half expected Jareth to visit her. She assumed he was too busy with the ball, and his brother. She knew that Sevlydi had returned to the castle, but had only seen him once. There had been no news, and Sarah had thought that was a good thing.
It wasn't.
"The fae like to lull you into a false sense of security," Jareth had told her, in a rare moment where they had seen each other. "They will torture you for days, weeks, months, years even until the guilt of your crime almost paralyses you."
"Love is not a crime," Sarah had wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"And if I am ever High King, I will ensure your statement is correct," he had promised. He was fifth in line after his siblings, and Nudalun's two children, so his chances were very slim. And apparently, he would have to disband or convince the High Council to change the rules too. "I have a better chance of reversing the curse, than becoming High King."
Sarah had asked if they could reverse the curse, to which Jareth had announced his ignorance, but simultaneous delight that she wanted to have his children. She had rewarded his flirtation with a roll of her eyes, and she may have called him an incorrigible philanderer.
Whenever they had seen each other, their encounters had traversed the entire spectrum from polite, to flirtatious, to downright angry. Sarah was still adamant that she only saw attraction and lust in Jareth, and nothing more profound. However, as she sat there alone in her room reading, she couldn't deny how she wished for his company, even if it was just to sling an insult at him over his egregious temper, or his blatant arrogance. Or to tease him about his marriage to Forsythia, a fact Sevlydi had divulged the one time she'd seen him.
As the hours crawled by, and the goblins arrived to help her get ready, she had given up on seeing the Goblin King before the ball. She considered herself strong in spirit, although she distinctly felt his endorsement would be reassuring before she entered the dragon's den.
Sarah was submerged in her tub, wondering what Jareth's bathroom was like compared to hers. She closed her eyes, imagining what lavishness and luxury he had. Presumably, way more regality than her indisputably exquisite bathroom. She immersed herself under the hot water, squeezing her eyes shut as she resurfaced. Sarah hummed an ABBA song, that was stuck in her head, as she reclined back.
Jareth was frustrated. With all the ball preparation and his brother's dilemma, he had barely seen Sarah. To have her in his castle, and under his power, but denied any quality time with her was exasperating. Now it was the day of the ball, and possibly his last opportunity to woo her as she was stubbornly insistent she was returning to Ghent on the morrow.
He had so many plans for her tonight: he desired to tell her how she would get access to her magic, perhaps get an affirmative answer to his question of courting, and he may even get lucky with a kiss. However, it was enough that he would have her on his arm and dancing with her all night.
Jareth had planned to spend the morning with her, but then Nudalun and Omre arrived early. He had sent an invitation to them both but hadn't expected them to appear. Yet, come they did, and as a result, he had to answer a thousand questions about his Champion. He remained infuriatingly vague.
They had invited Forsythia. When Sarah had asked to be reminded who that was, Sevlydi had told her, "Jareth's punishment if he doesn't marry soon."
He wasn't amused to notice Sarah's delight at this tidbit of news.
"Is she awful?" Sarah asked with glee.
"She is," Sevlydi had grinned back at her. Jareth couldn't say he was pleased they were finally bonding over ridiculing him. "It's the fondest wish of his family, and hers, that they join in marriage."
"If she is truly awful, I couldn't be happier, then," Sarah flicked him a mischievous grin. Jareth glared at Sevlydi, daring, no, imploring him to bring up the pearl again to remind Sarah that it was her destiny to marry him. Sevlydi just smirked, damn him.
With a sigh, he divested himself of his attire, sauntering through to his bath chamber. Entering the room, he moved past the privacy screen before he got the surprise of his life.
Sarah; the woman who he coveted, adored, desired, and who he was just thinking about, was lying naked in his bath. He had to be dreaming.
"Sarah?"
"Sarah?"
Sarah's eyes shot open. There standing naked in front of her was The Goblin King, looking down upon her in confusion. She slammed her eyes shut, again, and covered her body as much as she could with bubbles and her limbs. Jareth hadn't even attempted to cover himself from her. His species certainly lacked modesty.
"What the hell?" she cried. "Why are you in my bathroom?"
"Precious, this is my bathroom," she heard him say before she detected the sound of him entering the bath. Surges of bathwater washed over her as he hopped in, she peeked out under her eyes to ascertain how many bubbles she had lost. "Forgive me I thought I had better make myself decent so we could talk with your eyes open."
"It would be more decent if you weren't in my bath," Sarah spat, trying to scrub the image of his nakedness out of her brain.
"Again, it's my bath, precious," Jareth clicked his tongue at her.
Sarah peeked out from under her lids, opening them wide when she was conscious she was indeed no longer in her bathroom. It was surprisingly similar to hers, but with more black and gold embellishments and a slightly different layout.
"What the fuck?"
Jareth tilted his head with a complacent smile. "I'm honoured you graced me with your presence, precious."
"I did not," she ground out. "I was in my bath with my eyes closed, and I opened them to this."
"Interesting," he rubbed his chin.
"Do you have an explanation?"
"What were you thinking about when you had your eyes closed?"
Sarah had focused on not letting Jareth provoke her. He'd get satisfaction out of any displays of her verecund reactions. While she could handle her nakedness, and to a lesser extent, his nudity, she could not handle informing him of the contents of her daydream.
"I had a song stuck in my head," she shrugged deftly, to not displace her layer of bubbles.
"And what was the song?"
"An ABBA song."
"You have to help me out here, precious," he grinned. Sarah observed the ends of his hair adhering to his dewy skin, sending streams of bathwater down his torso. It diverted her from what was below the water surface and helped her avoid his piercing gaze as she spoke with him.
"I Have a Dream," she clarified, blinking away her shame.
"And how does it go?"
"How is this helpful?"
"Well, if your magic is trying to manifest, it may have done so by the power of music," he explained. "How does the song go?"
"I'm not singing," she maintained.
"I will summon your crystal I gave you then," he sighed, and three seconds later, held her crystal.
"I Have a Dream by ABBA," he hummed into the glass ball. The song started, reverberating off all the surfaces. Jareth watched her with a guarded look, as she pressed her face into her hands in her vexation.
"Interesting song to have stuck in your head, considering my role in your dreams," he smirked.
Sarah wrinkled her nose. "Songs get stuck in my head all the time. I had 'Return of the Mac' stuck there for two weeks once and I don't even like that song. It doesn't mean anything."
"If you see the wonder of a fairy tale, you can take the future even if you fail," Jareth sang, his eyes fixed on her. Sarah, naked, aroused and confused, nearly convulsed with desire at the sound of Jareth's singing. "You could have taken the future, even if you had failed, you know. I think it means a fair bit."
"So how does that explain how I got here?" Sarah interrupted his analytics.
"Hmmm, I am not sure," he twisted her crystal around his wrist. "I suspect you must have focussed on something else in that pretty little head of yours."
He rolled the crystal across the water as Sarah rolled her eyes. She caught the physics-denying, floating crystal. "So, how do I get back to my suite, without the mortification of departing naked out of your rooms?"
"It is an honour to be seen in disarray leaving my chambers," he gave her a pointy-toothed smile.
"One that you have indubitably bestowed upon thousands of women," Sarah said, sardonically.
"And men."
Sarah quirked her eyebrow imperceptibly. "Good for you."
"It was good for me," he grinned. "You can't tell me that you don't enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, Sarah."
"Not like you," she laughed. "And also I believe in fidelity, so unquestionably unlike you."
"Sarah, do I give you the impression that I practice infidelity?" his face was a mask of gravity.
"You certainly cheat," Sarah rolled the crystal in her hand. "I still want my three hours back."
"Human's preach constancy, but rarely practice it," Jareth ignored her statement regarding her Labyrinth run.
"True, but I can count on one hand the number of times I have cheated on a partner," she held up a closed fist. "But the tally of times my husband cheated on me would require at least another two hands."
"And you will tar me with the same brush," Jareth said, with disbelief.
"You ooze the aura of a philanderer," Sarah retorted.
"I ooze sexuality, not betrayals of trust," he crossed his bare arms over his naked chest.
"Well, I beg to differ," Sarah tipped her chin in emphasis. "You are supposed to be marrying Forsythia, who is awful, yet, you sit here naked with me in a tub."
"My family want me to marry her," he scowled. "There is no agreement between us. And sitting naked together in a bath, is not my idea of infidelity. Though granted, she is awful."
"How is she awful?" Sarah's interest was piqued. Was she Lady Catherine's de Burgh's daughter to her Elizabeth? She mentally shook her head. That would make her Elizabeth, and she wasn't having that. However, this information also proved the stupid pearl theory wrong, so that made her happy. Didn't it?
"She is insipid, weak and dull," he yawned in emphasis. "It would be like being married to a mannequin, pretty to look at, extremely boring to talk to."
"You surprise me," Sarah grinned. "That's exactly the type of personality I imagined for you. Don't you want to be silently worshipped by your wife?"
"No."
They slipped into silence, Sarah from surprise, and Jareth from his private thoughts.
"As much fun as it has been bickering with you, could you please send me back to my bathroom? And as fully respectably as you can manage."
He nodded with a tight smile. "Close your eyes and imagine your bathroom. Let's see if you can manage it on your own, first."
Sarah cast a sceptical look but tried it anyway. She squinted out of one eye to see Jareth still sitting opposite her in the tub.
"Unless I have taken you with me, I am still here."
"We haven't moved," he summoned up a crystal and threw it to her. She caught it on instinct, instantly disappearing and reappearing in her bathroom. And just in time too, as two goblins scurried into the room with her towel and robe.
As Sarah disappeared, he leant his head back against the side of the bath, groaning. She remained resolved to think ill of him. No matter the progress they had made, she still considered him the scoundrel. He was perenially her villain, despite his efforts to woo her. He liked the challenge she gave him. It was a drawcard, assuredly, but it was also serving against him. He was a sexual and flirtatious creature, as entwined in his fae nature as mischief was for his goblins. He could ascertain that Sarah had no issue with the sheer quantity of his lovers, but she had an objection to cheating.
However, Jareth had never been in a monogamous relationship before, so his track record for infidelity was skewed. There was the druid, but it was so short-lived, he didn't even have the time to look elsewhere. Sarah was different. Sarah was to be his wife, and he knew now, it was not just in name. She was a human, yes, one that contained magic and was fae-touched, but her ideals and standards were not those of the Underground. He would have to rise to meet her standards, and not expect her to lower herself to meet his.
The very thought of her lying with anyone aside from him made his blood boil and vexed him exceedingly. So to earn her respect and forgiveness, he couldn't consider betraying her the way she expected him to. Especially by marrying that awful Forsythia. Jareth felt a twinge of resentment that Sarah didn't seem at all jealous of the news of his family's plans for him. If he didn't know better, he would think Sarah almost would be glad to see him married to the Pinnsburr girl.
Despite Jareth's vexation, at her repugnance, a crooked, little smile crept on to his face. Sarah had to have been thinking about him, to have ended up in his bath. Oh, he played the game with the song, but the reality was she would have been envisioning him, to have been able to transport herself like that. She had been very vigilant with her bubble placement, and he had avoided risking her trust to take any liberties with her. Despite Sarah's confidence and apparent lack of embarrassment, he wasn't going to overstep any boundaries. However, the thrill of having her in his bath naked was enough for him to have difficulties hiding his arousal from her.
Jareth didn't have time to take care of it now, with the ball looming around the corner. He also didn't want to expend energy on turning time back when he was going to use his magic for Sarah's protection throughout the night.
Thankfully, Sarah was back in her bath, sans Jareth. She climbed out and briskly dried herself with a towel, the goblin named Cookie, had given her. Wearing a bathrobe, she crossed to the vanity, where a servant called Cricket took charge of her ornamentation and make-up.
"Lady wants to wear the necklace that matches?" the goblin, Cricket, suggested pointing at Sarah's bracelet. She had forgotten about Terry's necklace. She had nearly completely forgotten about Terry; her mind had been so full of Jareth. She touched her neck, considering, before shaking her head.
"No, thank you, Cricket," she stroked the blue-haired goblin lightly on its gnarled hand.
Eventually, Sarah was dressed, in a full-length orchid-coloured silk dress with silver beading and crystal flowers. She wore the bracelet and a simple pearl necklace of white, not purple and green like the one on her bangle. Her hair was curled, and inlaid with silver and purple flowers.
Sarah was escorted to the ballroom by a goblin called Shook, the train of the gown dragging across the stone floor as she walked. Smaller organza trains adorned the sleeves of the dress flowing seamlessly into the many silk and chiffon layers of the skirt.
Breathing deeply, she approached the grand ballroom's intricately carved double oak doors. She felt ready, despite all her misgivings.
"Lady enters now," Shook pointed to the doors opening by themselves.
As the doors opened, a loud disembodied voice announced her. "Lady Sarah Williams, Hi'livé, Champion of the Labyrinth, and Human Ambassador for the Goblin Kingdom."
So she already had her ambassador title without having started any work in the job. She shoved the thought aside, entering through the double doors. Sarah descended the marble steps so guardedly she remarkably didn't trip over her train, skirts or high-heeled shoes.
The hall was bursting with bodies, and those bodies had faces that were all looking at her.
Before Sarah's kidnapping, Hilary took her to see a film called 'Ever After.' In the movie, the main character attended a ball, reminding herself to breathe as she entered. Sarah did this herself as she looked down on the sea of unfriendly faces.
"Just breathe."
And they were unfriendly. Even Jareth looked upon her with haughty indifference. Perhaps he was still annoyed at her for accusing him of being an unfaithful cheat. It surprised her he would take on so. He usually had enough arrogance to rebuff any of her attempts to shame him.
Sarah stepped towards him, as instructed. Standing in front of him, she observed that his eyes remained cold and proud. She wouldn't flinch under his scrutiny, lifting her chin, she gave an identical expression in return. Imperceptibly, he gave her a nod of the head. She stooped into a curtsey, low, respectful, and gaze averted. Jareth indicated she accompany him on his right-hand side after she straightened from her obeisance.
Sarah kept her nerves under control, throwing all her acting into remaining aloof while fae and elf were announced and subsequently introduced to her. In a lull, Jareth shifted slightly, speaking to her out of the corner of his mouth.
"You're doing well, Precious," he murmured. Sarah took heart at his words, and though her face remained impassive, her eyes twinkled with reassurance.
Focussed on her deportment, Sarah couldn't retain anyone's names. However, one name stood out to her. A blonde fae, with an insipid smile, dipped into a low curtsy for Jareth, but barely offered a nod to her. She looked through Sarah as if she wasn't even there. Sarah recognised Forsythia's name straight away, as the woman Jareth was supposed to marry. The "barely a nod," made some kind of sense.
After the formalities transpired, Jareth held his hand out for her, and lead her to open the dancing. One hand around her waist, and the other clasping her hand, he twirled her in time to the string-heavy music.
"You look exquisite as always, Sarah," his voice husky and deep.
"Thank you," Sarah blushed as his once cold eyes, set on her with warmth. "You look handsome, Jareth."
And he did, he wore a deep aubergine-purple jacket, paired with dark grey trousers and black boots. The ruffles, gloves, and other embellishments were a light grey to silver, complementing her trimmings, except for his medallion, that remained silver and gold, on a black thread. His hair had streaks of the deep purple in line with his jacket. Sarah was surprised there wasn't a single gram of glitter anywhere on his body.
"My title, remember," he whispered, his mouth close to her ear. "Though I have longed to hear you say my name more often. Save it for when we're alone."
Sarah suppressed a shiver at his words, nodding in assent. "Where are all your siblings?"
"Sevlydi is sulking near the refreshment tables, and the other two have yet to make their appearance," his hand on her waist tensed. "They'll turn up fashionably late. Our family lives for dramatic entries."
Sarah scoffed. "I am still surprised at the amount of glitter I was finding in my parent's room for weeks after your dramatic entry. I kept thinking I had cleaned it all, and you were just sneaking in and dumping more."
Jareth chuckled. "I am so pleased to hear that you rate my entry so highly."
Why did such a beautiful laugh have to be attached to such a horrid creature?
"I rated it no such thing," Sarah swatted his shoulder, playfully with her hand. "Karen thought I had been doing arts and crafts in their room. I remember her saying that she didn't mind if I made my princess crowns, but why did I have to do it in their room?"
"Are you fond of crowns?" his face turned serious.
"Not anymore," Sarah glanced away from his burning gaze. "Don't worry, Your Majesty, your crown is safe from me."
"Ah, not planning a coup anytime soon then?" Jareth returned to his breezy self.
Sarah shook her head with a small smile. She passed the rest of their dance in silence, briefly wondering if she would see Terry amongst the crowd. She had yet to see any of her friends, but the night was young. Sarah wondered how Terry would react, seeing her in the arms of his King and ex-employer. Not that he probably had an invite, or would be welcome if he had turned up.
When the dance finished, Jareth asked her if she wanted any refreshments, leading her to the tables festooned with platters upon platters of sumptuous fare. She nibbled on a pastry as she watched the other dancers swirl around the hall. It was a blur of mostly neutral coloured guests, wearing various shades of white, grey and tan, making the host and his honoured guest stand out against them all the more. The purple and silver themes of their attire stretched to the drapes hanging from the ceiling, to the flowers sitting upon plinths.
A lengthy amount of time had passed before Jareth enticed her into another dance. Sarah realised with incredulous humour that it was an instrumental version of 'Come On Eileen.' Sarah uproariously laughed as Jareth looked upon her with amused complacency.
It was after this song that Sarah found her friends. Not just Hoggle, and the rest of the trio, but the Spriggets as well. Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus, all bowed low to her.
"Our Champion," Sir Didymus intoned.
"Stop it, guys," Sarah blushed. "I am still just Sarah."
'Sawah still friend?" Ludo asked.
"Of course," Sarah smiled.
"I ain't believing you danced with the rat," was all Hoggle had to say in a hushed manner as she hugged him. If Jareth heard, he remained impassive. She had a dance with all three of her friends before she went to find the Spriggets. Jareth was mingling with the lords and ladies of his realm, occasionally coaxing Sevlydi to be a bit more lively.
Sarah approached the Spriggets with trepidation. They hadn't known who she was, and she felt like she had lied to them for the past two years. As she neared them, she considered that they might not welcome her back into their home. It hadn't occurred to her in all this time they may not accept her betrayal.
"Helena, Liam," she greeted them warmly, trying to hide her nerves.
"Lassie," Liam inclined his head. "You have moved up in the world."
Peggy barrelled out from behind Helena's skirts and threw herself into Sarah. She hugged that little scrap of life for all she was worth. She greeted the other members while still carrying Peggy.
'It was so good of you all to come," Sarah beamed.
"Couldn't refuse an invite from the King, little lass," Liam patted her on the shoulder. "Here we thought you were going to be wooed by Terry, and we find you in the arms of the King instead."
Helena scoffed. "You know my views on the monarchy, girl, as they are similar to yours," she frowned. "For all his handsomeness, I would have thought you preferred Terry."
"Firstly, it's not like that, with either gentleman," Sarah professed. "And secondly, Terry is no longer in the picture."
"Oh, dear, lass, what happened?" Liam frowned.
"He turned out to be a little bit of a scoundrel," she shrugged. "He left me here and did a runner."
"That is most unusual," Helena empathised. "How much longer do you plan on staying here?"
"I have a paid job," Sarah beamed, pushing away her feelings on Terry. "So as soon as that it all finalised, I can return home and pay my way."
Sarah tried to ignore the looks exchanged between husband and wife.
"We never expected you to pay your way, lass," Liam frowned.
"But you have taken a stranger in, and I would like to pay you back for your kindness," Sarah implored.
"We won't discuss this now," Helena chimed in. "Tell us, how you managed to keep it secret that you were the Sarah from the stories: the Champion of the Labyrinth."
Sarah told her story, her fear of discovery, and her worries for her brother. When she finished, Jareth returned to lead her in yet another dance. She thanked him profusely for inviting her friends.
"You are welcome," his eyes never leaving her face as they swayed. "It is your ball, after all!"
When that dance concluded, they took respite on the edge of the ballroom. Jareth was chatting to someone next to him, on his other side, when Sarah felt, rather than saw, someone watching her intensely.
Forsythia stood opposite her with steel daggers for eyes, pointed at her. Sarah raised her head in acknowledgement and gave her a sympathetic smile. Forsythia's scowl deepened, without returning the smile. Forsythia then raised her wine glass with her middle finger pointed towards her. Sarah bit back a laugh. Jareth discerned her movement because he looked down at her and then followed her gaze.
"Ah, yes, my future bride," his scowl matched hers. "You find her amusing?"
"I find her hostility towards me, curious," Sarah admitted. "I have never met her, so I should be nothing to her."
"Do not be so quick to dismiss yourself, Sarah," he leaned down, whispering in her ear. "You do not need to compare your worth to hers. You win every time."
Sarah felt her insides contract in what she was shocked to discover was satisfaction. Her eyes flicked back to Forsythia, and she gave her another warm smile before taking Jareths's proffered arm. She couldn't endure jealousy. Forsythia had no reason to be envious of her situation when that circumstance entailed being without her family, friends and far from home. Also, out of the two of them, Forsythia had more chance of marriage with Jareth than she did. Despite Sevlydi and his stupid pearl.
He led her to meet a few more people, while the awareness of still being watched was incredibly keen. It wasn't much later Sarah and Jareth found themselves dancing again when she felt brave enough to broach the marriage subject.
"Why don't you marry her if it will make your family happy?"
"Would you marry someone you didn't even like to make your family happy?" he rose a brow in query.
"I won't marry again," Sarah repeated her oft-spoken response to the subject of marriage.
"So no," he concluded.
"You already stated you didn't care who you will marry, so why not just marry her?" Sarah looked Forsythia's way. "She quite clearly is into you."
'She is a simpleton, and a puppet," he growled. "You wish the subjugation of your ally, by his siblings?"
"Of course not," she shrugged. "I just thought that if you married her, they would leave you alone and leave poor Sevlydi alone."
"They wouldn't," he pulled her closer. "The only way they would leave me alone in this one aspect of my life is if I chose my bride that they couldn't control."
"So why don't you do that?"
"Are you proposing to me, Lady Sarah?"
"Hardly," Sarah let out a bark of laughter. "I never realised how funny you are when I first met you."
He gave a smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes, lending his expression one of sadness, rather than joy.
"I happen to be very amusing," he pulled her tighter still. "It is one of my many positive attributes."
"Like your attractiveness and your desirability," she scoffed.
"I also happen to be an excellent kisser," he licked his front teeth. Sarah instinctively knew her eyes darkened with lust at his words, but self-preservation won out, and she jeered yet again.
"I am sure you have had heaps of practice," Sarah teased.
He flicked his eyes heavenwards. "If you keep bringing my history up, and I am going to start thinking you are jealous of all my past lovers."
"You have had centuries," Sarah pointed out. "I have been alive a mere three decades."
The orchestra started a new instrumental song, Sarah instantly recognised as an Aboveground favourite. The atmosphere for kissing was shifting favourably to his inclination, as the music was slow and sensual, igniting passion deep within Sarah's soul. Jareth drew her closer to him. She wouldn't let his strong aroma and warm, hard body distract her from persevering in being his personal-vexation.
He ran his hand up and down her waist. "I am happy to let you practice on me, Precious."
"Or anything that moves," Sarah teased, gripping his hand tighter. "Eh, Your Majesty?"
"Maybe once upon a time," he bit his lip. "Right now, there is only you."
Sarah froze in his stare.
"Bog damn it!" Jareth cursed, narrowing his eyes in aggravation.
The bodiless-voice announced Omre and Nudalun. Jareth's face was mere inches from hers, and she realised, shockingly that he had been coming in for a kiss. His eyes closed as he swore again, both hands gripping her tighter in his frustration.
"Let us go and do our duty, love," he released her waist and tucked her hand into his elbow.
Love? That was new and unexpected, but even if Sarah had a chance to question it, she didn't know how she could. While their strange bickering flirtation had been entertaining, she never sensed anything more heartfelt than that. Unless Sevlydi's pearl-theory was genuine which she adamantly refused to accept, then nothing between her and Jareth could be deemed a veneer or facade. What was seen on the surface, is what was there in the heart.
Sarah almost staggered under the weight of her unfounded suspicions. He proposed to her before, so it wasn't entirely in the realm of fantasy. Then there were the bridal pearls, informing Jareth he was destined to marry her. He couldn't love her, though.
Sarah didn't have much opportunity to dwell on these thoughts before she came face to face with the Heir Apparent of Navas and the Queen of the Principality of Haddoyne. If she ever thought Jareth was cold and indifferent, he was nothing in comparison to the two blonde faes in front of her. They were flawless and the very picture of ethereal beauty. Their features, carved from pure, raw marble, adorned with blue stones for eyes and finely woven blonde silk for hair, would make even a supermodel envious. Sarah could see trace amounts of similarities between them, with Jareth, but Jareth had something of warmth about him, that these two were lacking.
Sarah hated them already. Her grip tightened on his arm, both dipping into their respective addresses.
"Goblin King," Nudalun said in a haughty tone. Her voice sent shivers down her spine, and not the pleasant kind.
"Queen Nudalun, Prince Omre, may I present Lady Sarah to you?" Jareth's voice, lined with hatred, cut through Sarah's awe of the two ice statues.
"If you must," Nudalun sighed, impatiently.
Jareth made all the necessary introductions. Omre looked over Sarah's head, while Nudalun only nodded slightly, a severe glance just for her. She was facing Jareth again within seconds. Sarah swallowed her anguish, stepping back in line with Jareth.
"I believe Forsythia Pinnsburr is here tonight," Nudalan addressed Jareth again. "Go find her, Goblin King."
Sarah felt Jareth stiffen beside her. "As you wish."
Jareth gently drew Sarah away from his brother and sister, bowing low as they retreated. She peeked at Jareth through the corner of her eye, his expression, inscrutable. Sarah was no longer surprised he despised his family, after their brief encounter.
"How are you faring, Lady Sarah?" he asked when they had passed out of earshot of the two monarchs.
"That was certainly interesting," Sarah answered. "Your Majesty."
"Yes, but you survived," he led her to an alcove with a velvet seat, indicating that she should sit. "They ignored you, which is the best we could have hoped for."
"Why?" Sarah obeyed, sitting down and smoothing her skirts down. "The best I could hope for was cold indifference?"
"Yes," he knelt in front of her. "They could have dehumanised you in an instant. They could have cut you down with a look, but you withstood them."
"What are you doing on the ground?"
"I am begging your pardon while I leave my lady to go and fetch Miss Pinnsburr," he placed a gloved hand upon her knee. "I am loathed to part from you while they are in residence."
"I am not your anything," Sarah huffed. "You don't need my permission in your castle, to move around your ball. I will be quite fine here."
"I will return for you," he lowered his head over her hand, planting a kiss upon her skin. Sarah jerked her hand away and laughed.
"Stop it," she snickered. "You're scaring me. Stop being a gentleman. And make sure you bring back a lemon cake and a glass of that purple wine."
"Whatever my lady wishes," he then ran his hand along her thigh. "I can play the cad if you desire."
Sarah pushed his hand away, giggling. "I desire cake and purple wine."
"Yes, my love," he said, as he stood up.
As he sauntered off, Sarah called out again. "Oh and Jareth? It's a piece of cake."
He spun around with a grin. "I will find the perfect slice for you, with no cleaners this time."
Jareth winked at her, turning away to find his supposed bride. Sarah smiled to herself. She did enjoy the banter, quite a bit.
Sarah watched Jareth approach Forsythia as he led her to his siblings. Her attention was caught by two faes walking into her eye line, both blonde, one female, one male. They both had their eyes boring into her. They looked like they were about to approach her, but when one spoke into the others ear, they both melted back into the mire of bodies.
Jareth was returning, cake and wine in hand. Sarah glanced towards the royals and saw Forsythia attending to Nudalun, steadily bowing and scraping.
"Your slice of cake, my lady," he passed her the plate. "I warn you the wine is peach-infused. Do you desire it still?"
Sarah sighed, placing her plate on her lap. "Will I wake up in a dream with some pompous Goblin King?"
"The night is young, I can't promise you where it will lead," one side of his mouth curled. "But it won't be a direct result of this wine."
"You're so full of yourself," she muttered, taking the wine. "Why don't you go and annoy someone who likes you?"
"There is no sport in that," he said, coming to sit beside her. "I much prefer to antagonise the girl who defeated me, over any other sop."
"I'm just sport to you?" Sarah placed her hand over her heart in mock hurt.
"Not just," he swirled the wine in his glass. "There is a sporting element of course, but you're so much more than that too."
Sarah raised both brows and took a sip of her drink. It was fruity and sweet, and despite her opposition to peaches, quite refreshing.
"This is quite nice," Sarah took another sip.
"Made from my peaches," he grinned. "I should take you for a tour of the vineyards one day."
"I'm going home tomorrow, remember?"
"And remember you accepted a job with me," he tapped her on the knee with a long finger.
"I'm haven't signed any contracts yet," she tapped him back on his knee.
Quick as a flash, his hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling it towards his mouth to kiss her fingers. Sarah was too stunned to try and take her hand away.
"You can always sign them tomorrow," he gave her hand another kiss.
"What are you doing?" She managed to ask, her voice shaking.
"I'm showing you some affection," he released her hand. "Our people want to see that their King holds their Champion in high esteem."
"Well, I am sorry to put a spanner into your politicking, but please don't," she took a bite of cake, as she watched the dancers twirl by. Jareth didn't say a word, placing his fingers over his mouth.
"Besides, Nuddy and Ommy wouldn't appreciate you giving me attention, over your soon-to-be wife," laughed Sarah, savagely.
"Don't let them hear you call them that," Jareth warned.
The dancers continued moving by them, Sarah sipping her wine and eating her cake in wonder at their elegance. She occasionally spied the two blonde faes watching her, before getting devoured by the crowd. There was something familiar about them.
Jareth sat staring into the crowd, his leg crooked over the other, tapping his knee with one hand, and tapping his mouth with the other. Sarah figured he was bored. She realised, with feelings she didn't assess or qualify, that she would never have the abilities to keep such a mercurial, temperamental fae entertained.
"Why don't you go find someone to warm your bed?" Sarah whispered into his ear. His eyes flicked to her face, observed her mock leer and then he continued in his state of apathy. He didn't even move his hand from his mouth.
As she finished her consumption of food and wine, Jareth asked her to dance again. She obliged with reluctance.
Back in Jareth's arms, she couldn't help observe over his shoulder that she was being watched again by Forsythia.
"Your awful wife has her eyes on me again," Sarah teased.
"Maybe she wants to be your wife, my dear," he said, almost absentmindedly. My dear? First, she was 'precious', then 'his lady', then 'his love' and now 'his dear'. He was full of affectionate names for her tonight. It was befuddling.
"Not to my taste."
Jareth raised his brows.
"Too blonde, too fae," she said deadpan. "Complete opposite of what I want."
Jareth curled his lip. "Perhaps you may find going against your tastes to your liking."
"And who would you recommend?" Sarah asked slyly.
Jareth inhaled but didn't reply. He looked away with an unfathomable, far-away look.
"You?"
"Pardon?" Jareth snapped back to reality.
"Do you recommend yourself?" Sarah asked, pushing herself closer to his body, moving her hand from his shoulder to run her fingers along his neck following the line of his medallion.
His eyes widened and then narrowed almost instantly. "Alcohol doesn't mix well with humans, does it?"
"What do you mean?" Sarah frowned, butting her hips against his hips.
"I don't believe you are yourself, right now," Jareth reasoned.
"Why?"
"You are suggesting-," he deliberated with agitation. "You are acting suggestively."
"Does that make you uncomfortable?" Sarah crooned, pressing herself even closer, feeling his anatomy reacting positively towards hers.
"Sarah, please stop," both pupils matched, having both blown with his evident desire, but he was pushing her away. "That wine may have been a bit potent."
"Don't you want me to warm your bed, Goblin King?" Sarah was starting to slur.
"Sarah, let's get some fresh air," he broke them out of the dance and headed through some heavy violet curtains to a balcony overlooking the Labyrinth. Sarah sucked in lungfuls of fresh Labyrinth air, before rounding on the Goblin King who stood pensively behind her.
"What makes that wine different from Aboveground wine?" Sarah asked, her words running together.
"Faes have stronger constitutions, ergo our wine is stronger," he shrugged. "Will it be suitable to leave you by yourself out here, for a moment, while I fetch you a glass of water?"
Sarah nodded, turning back towards the Labyrinth. She felt fuzzy and hazy from the wine. Not to mention, her libido had been rearing to go, only to be rejected.
She placed her head against the cooling stone of the railing, waiting for Jareth to return.
When he didn't, she slumped into a chair to continue to wait.
A noise brought her out of her drunken stupor, thinking it was Jareth she reached towards him.
"You have returned," she cried dramatically.
"Oh, no dear, I don't think I am who you're waiting for," said a pointy blonde fae lady, one half of the couple that had been watching her all evening. "I anticipate you're waiting for his Majesty."
"Who are you?"
"Meffod of Trew," she replied. That name was familiar. She tried wracking her brain, but Meffod was talking again.
"And you're Sarah, the Champion of the Labyrinth," she spoke plainly. "The only one to have ever denied the fae their prize."
"Well, I like to look at it more like saving my brother," Sarah rejoined. "He is a human being, not a prize."
"And your King had been lax in your run," Meffod of Trew shrugged. "Your victory was hollow."
"My King? Is he not yours too?" Sarah couldn't dispel the nagging feeling in the back of her mind.
"No, silly girl," she snapped. "I am from Trew, a Kingdom vaster and more prosperous than Navas, and unquestionably that of the Goblin Kingdom."
"Why are you here, then?" Sarah frowned, willing Jareth to come back, and let her out of this conversation.
"Ah, that's just it," she grinned, making her features appear pointier still. 'I have some information that you may find useful."
"I have no interest in bartering with a fae," Sarah rose to push past her.
"Even if it concerns your lover, Terry Finn?" she held Sarah firmly by her upper arm. Sarah baulked, pausing in her stride.
"What of him?" Sarah felt her insides corrode with fear and grief. Though he deserved her anger, she didn't want him to have come to actual harm.
"He is not who you think he is," Meffod relaxed her hold on Sarah's arm.
"Then, who is he?"
"He led a double life," she continued.
"Stop being vague, and just tell me," she snapped, before recalling that it was a fae, and the need to tread lightly was critical.
"Ah, I am getting to the point," she grimaced. "I am savouring the pain it will give you."
Sarah dismissed her statement as a purely fae tendency, but couldn't help but amp up her wariness.
"Is that why you tell me freely?"
"Indeed," she grinned, malicious light shining in her hard blue eyes. "It is one of the many perks of you learning the truth."
The contrast between this breed of fae and Jareth was never more startling than now.
"So as I was saying," she went on. "Terry Finn doesn't even exist. He was a figment of the imagination of his creator."
"Ok…"
"Can you guess who created him, hmm?" her voice suddenly saccharine. "Who would want to gain your trust, and then destroy it for petty revenge?"
Sarah could only think of Jareth. He had the motive to exact revenge on her, contrary to his words of reassurance. Terry and Jareth were so unlike each other, but as she tried to focus on the separate images of each of them, they started bleeding into each other.
"No, he wouldn't -," Sarah shook her head in denial.
"Oh, wouldn't he?" she laughed bitterly. "The King of the Goblins thwarted by a mere human mortal. A mortal that he grew attached to, but finally rejected him. And not only does the mortal reject the King but provokes his family to force him into marriage, ultimately ending his bachelor ways. Stop me when you've had enough of his myriad of reasons for wanting revenge."
"You have no proof," Sarah countered, irresolutely.
"I have the goblin, who saw the King's grief at his loss, who saw him use Terry's glamour on more than one occasion, and overheard his brother telling him to stop deceiving you-," she sneered cruelly. "He ignored that advice, content to play your hero while ultimately being the dastardly villain after all. Well, I have that goblin on retainer, so I can summon him if you wish for proof."
Sarah felt the earth tremble under her feet, wishing it would swallow her whole. Jareth was Terry, and Terry was Jareth, forcing the whole thing to border on reverse Cinderella territory. Rage flooded her system. She shoved past the meddlesome fae and back into the ballroom.
As she entered the ballroom, the music swelled to match her mood. She looked around frantically for Jareth. She felt the beat stir in time with her heart, and the rhythm flow with her nerves as she searched the crowd.
Empty spaces, what are we living for?
Sarah spotted Jareth in amongst the dancers, his arms around Forsythia, swaying and smiling with her. He was smiling at her like he hadn't smiled at her all night. His eyes lit up, and a full set of teeth on display. He looked happier with Forsythia than he had been with her all night. His disparagements against his future wife, were most likely lies, like everything else he had ever said to her.
Another hero, another mindless crime.
Or was it just Sarah's rage-fuelled imagination playing tricks on her mind? Why should she care if he was dancing with his family-sanctioned wife? Yet, she had been waiting for him to return for what seemed like hours.
Inside my heart is breaking.
How could Jareth have betrayed her like that? Why did he pretend to be Terry? She wanted to confront him, but seeing him with his arms around Forsythia, she found herself suddenly paralysed. It seemed like a cruel joke to make her vulnerable in front of all these people. The King probably hired Meffod to reveal his secret identity so she would be humiliated right on cue.
Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance.
Sarah felt Meffod's presence behind her but chose to ignore it. She could choose to disregard Meffod's words completely, but something told her it was the truth. Things Terry had said, had made more sense if they were Jareth's words. Tears leaked down her face before she could stop them. Jareth had obtained her trust as Terry, then crushed her heart, and why? Revenge?
But inside in the dark, I'm aching to be free.
Well, the Goblin King got his revenge. Not only had she trusted Terry, but Sarah had started falling for him. Jareth's next step was to stop playing at being Terry, only to entrap Sarah as his ally. The game he played was too elaborate for her. Yet, this news was unsurprising. The more she dwelt on Terry's face, the more Sarah saw the similarities of their physiognomy. She felt so foolish for not having seen they were the same person earlier. Their character had yet to align in her mind, but Sarah was not feeling charitable enough to currently think anything generous of Jareth.
But my smile still stays on.
Sarah watched as Forsythia cupped Jareth's face in her hands, pulling him down for a kiss. Her tears cut down her face with more force now. They were silent. She would not surrender to the sobs that threatened to stab in her chest.
Fairy tales of yesterday, grow but never die.
Sarah closed her eyes, not wanting to see them kiss, letting the tears fall, becoming less and less aware of her surroundings. When she opened them, it was to see Jareth staring at her with an indifferent look upon his face.
"You won, you bastard," she mouthed at him.
I have to find the will to carry on.
Jareth looked past her and must have noticed Meffod. His face alighted with fury. Sarah felt a pang of bittersweet triumph.
On with the show.
Sarah watched Jareth disengage from Forsythia, to come towards her. With one last killer look, she turned on her heel and headed for the door.
The Show must go on.
A/N: Song credit to Queen, The Show Must Go on. The goblin named Cricket is in honour of my son whose favourite things in the whole world are crickets. 'Cookie' is named for my daughter, for the same reasons. Though that goblin could have taken on any sugar-based treat name haha.
So a cliffhanger. Sarah now knows Jareth was Terry. How do you think she is going to react? What would Jareth need to do to earn her forgiveness? Can she forgive him?