The Goblin King's Daughter
By: DemonSaya
Chapter Five
It had been several days since he'd spirited away Erin Williams by now, and they'd finally stumbled across the border between the kingdoms. They'd settled into a sort of truce. Erin no longer tried to run away whenever his back was turned and he didn't tether her to himself. He let her go to the bushes by herself, rather than following and turning his back for the illusion of privacy, as well as giving her moments alone when she wanted to sulk or cry without eyes upon her and in return she pretended not to notice when he did something that was still awkward and adolescent.
Then again, perhaps she really didn't notice.
They'd wandered into a town due to necessity. Kieran needed first aide items, they needed food, and it had been decided that Erin badly needed clothing. Erin didn't see a problem really; she was quite comfortable in the oversized shirt and vest she'd kidnapped from his own wardrobe, but Kieran was slightly uncomfortable with how much skin her shorts showed off as well as how aware he was of that skin.
The town was grungy- more a slum than a town, but it was close enough to the border to be considered a neutral territory. He knew for a fact that most of the residents were whores, thieves, and miscreants who were hiding from one or both governments. As they moved through the town, he managed to mostly ignore the men leering at the young girl at his side. However, he was having a great deal more trouble ignoring the lovely ladies who were looking speculatively from himself to the child.
Several wandered towards them, a few draping themselves on him and coyly mentioning that they liked the paternal type. The girl at his side watched them with interest and amusement and left his side, moving forward with an innocence that wasn't quite naivety.
"Naughty of you, getting a little girl to help you pick up a lady," chastised one of the whores.
He gave the woman an amused smile and arched a brow. "Trust me, my 'lady'," he said that word with a hint of irony and sarcasm. "I've no need of any help to pick someone up." He shrugged her off his arm and went off to find his charge.
He let his eyes follow the girl as she moved from booth to booth through the town. It was important that he keep an eye on her, because the more people around, the more likely it was that her identity would become known. It wouldn't do to have to kidnap her from another kidnapper.
Her scent was growing stronger, and most would look at her and realize who and what she was at this point. His father was not the only one who would like to take a stab at the Goblin King, and most wouldn't be as considerate of a child like her. Many mercenaries or the like would not just kidnap her, they'd also rape or do any other number of things to hurt and break a precocious child such as Erin.
The idea of her getting hurt had sickened him for awhile, and he didn't really understand why. After all, he had kidnapped her himself, so how was he any different? There was something on the edge of his thoughts, maybe affection, but he wasn't that big of an idiot. He couldn't actually care about a sacrifice. That would be like asking to get himself hurt or killed.
He wasn't certain what to make of these confusing emotions she stirred in him. By all rights, they should hate each other. She was the spawn of the man who killed most of his family, including the only person who'd ever seen him as worth anything. Still, as Erin had said a few nights ago, that was not her fault. It had been years before the child was even conceived.
He sighed, fingering the now dingy bandage that was around his arm. He was lucky that no iron flecks had entered his blood. Iron touching the skin didn't usually kill unless it struck a vital spot, but the wounds it opened bled for an abnormal amount of time, and just a few pieces of iron entering the body could cause a catastrophic systems failure. She'd gotten stubborn, forceful about bandaging it. The clumsy bandage drew his attention back to the girl.
The girl hummed softly as she moved, peering at the merchant booths, her hands clasped behind her back, her pale hair spilling over her shoulders, fastened out of her face by a horrid little plastic clip that had somehow survived the past several days. Her hair was tangled, her skin was smeared with dirt, but despite her grubby appearance, he found that she looked rather adorable. However, as that thought passed through her head, she stopped at a weaponry stand and he was ashamed to admit that the interest on her face made him slightly uncomfortable.
Kieran had never met a creature quite like the half-mortal daughter of the Goblin King. She was unapologetic, sassy, and had a foul mouth, and yet she was also funny, brave – or foolhardy – and cunning. Were she several years older and not the daughter of his family's mortal enemy, he could see being friends with the irritating chit, even arguing over drinks at a pub. She was earthy, rather than ethereal, and he found that refreshing and somewhat entertaining.
When she wasn't trying to kick him in the balls.
She was different than the fae of the court that usually surrounded him back home. She looked at him and did not judge him for his birth, only his actions. Despite the kidnapping, she still smiled at him, still laughed at or with him. However, when she learned that he was guiding her to her death, condemnation would be on her face and that knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated to admit that he valued her trust, and knowing that he was betraying it hurt him.
He continued following her at a slight distance, but he noticed a table with hair ornaments laying across it, most suited for ladies rather than little girls. He eyed them, a frown turning down his lips. God, he hated that hair clip she always wore. It was an unsightly thing. There was a copper comb that was actually rather nice, and he glanced towards her, wondering how she'd respond to such a gift.
She'd moved on from the weaponry and Kieran noticed several young men approaching her, ones only slightly younger than himself. He sighed in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. "I can't leave that kid alone for two minutes," he muttered, heading towards where Erin was getting harassed into a corner.
From where he was, he could see the irritated expression on her face and he knew that these boys were pushing some lines they ought not to push with a girl of Erin's temperament. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and as he took it away, he watched the mildly irritated look turn to one that went beyond fury. One of the lads must have done something that he shouldn't have.
Kieran really wasn't in the best position to see what was happening, but he saw her jerk, and then a thin cry of shock escaped the mouth of the boy in front of her. The other two had eyes wide and jaws gaping, not moving towards her to stop her. The third one was quivering. He heard her voice – a low growl – a moment later.
"You ever touch me like that again, I'll rearrange your masculine bits and I won't bother using a knife to do it!"
Kieran was finally on the scene of the incident and he was able to see exactly what she was doing to the unfortunate youth. Suddenly grossly aware that he'd gotten off rather easy when he and Erin had met, he followed the curve of her arm to where it ended in a fist between the foolish young man's legs. She had an iron grip on the male's privates and he couldn't help but wince a little bit in sympathy for the violent treatment such a sensitive area was receiving.
Well, that certainly put 'got him by the balls' in proper perspective.
The two who were not at the hands of the cruel grip scrambled off, looking pale and stunned, while the other stood there. Tears were running from the blue eyes of the boy and snot was running from his nose.
"Erin," Kieran called gently.
When Erin's mismatched eyes lifted, there was a wildness in them that he suspected had little to do with her fae lineage and more to do with the fact that she was a female. He couldn't help but think that at that moment, she'd like to treat him to the same sort of affection that she was giving the boy.
He kept his voice calm, gentle. "He isn't going to do anything else. You can let him go now."
Her hand tightened and he heard the boy whimper. At this moment, Kieran wasn't about to take his eyes off the furious girl before him. Slowly, he set a hand on her wrist. It only made her hand tighten further. "He grabbed my tit," she snarled.
Yeah, that would piss off most prepubescent women, regardless of their background. He forced himself to give her a patronizing smile, and then glanced down at where her hand was. "And you're grabbing his dick, kid."
That must have shocked her, because she looked down at where her hand was and it sprang open. The boy, no longer supported by the not-entirely-mortal strength sagged to the ground, sobbing and clutching his privates as if to verify that they were still there. Meanwhile, she looked down at her hand and shuddered, shaking it as if trying to get something nasty off of it.
He covered his mouth to contain a snicker. The picture that she made was just too funny, and even knowing that she was still rather pissed with his gender, he couldn't muffle all of his laughter. The girl stopped, her wide eyes looking up at him and her lips faintly pursed in displeasure. He wasn't quite able to wipe all traces of his amusement off of his face but they had things they had to get, and they needed to get started. "Come on, kitten. Let's find you some suitable clothes and then we'll get a snack."
Tempted by the offer of food, she nodded. Still wiping her hand off on her shorts, she looked up at him almost adorably sulky. "You're too entertained by this," she accused, shooting him that glare that could singe the hair off a man's balls.
Having been subjected to that glare off and on for days, the effects were wearing off. Or perhaps it was because this was just the way things were between them. Abrasively polite, like friends who weren't really sure if they liked or hated each other most of the time. He gave her a mocking little smile. "Aren't you a little too old for the whole 'boy's have cooties' thing?"
She arched a brow, giving him a defiant look. "Boys are disgusting," she said bluntly. "They're dirty, rude, potty-mouths-" he was unable to contain his snort at that and received an appropriately scathing look from her. "And since they can still drop worms down a girl's shirt, then I don't see why I shouldn't be as big a pain in the ass."
He glanced down at her, smirking in his amusement. "Ah, so it's that then." He began collecting some clothes for her, a jerkin cut for a girl, as well as a blouse and traveling skirt, never noticing that she was right behind him, collecting clothing as well. "Although, if the rules are still the same as when I was a boy, they only drop worms down the shirts of a girl they like."
The girl behind him sputtered and swore softly.
He tossed the clothing as well as the girl into a changing booth and leaned against the door, whistling cheerfully. Irritating the snot out of her was getting to be great fun, a wonderful way to pass time on their little trip. Her temper made it quite a lot of fun. He heard her muttering and shifting behind him and glanced back, chuckling.
"Can't you just magic me into some clothing?" The sentence was followed by a loud thump and a stream of cursing that would make a sailor blush.
"That would take too much energy," he countered calmly.
"Yeah, well your taste in clothing sucks anyways." Several articles were heaved over the top of the door, smacking him in the face. One was the blouse. He pulled it down, peering at it and then at the door. "You need something else?"
"No, I'm making due."
What the hell did that mean?
The door opened after another ten minutes and he stared. Her outfit wasn't ladylike, wasn't appropriate, wasn't anything he could rationalize. She wore leather breeches with knee high leather boots. The vest that had been his had been exchanged for another vest, which had a short split skirt and laced up the front. She still wore the poets shirt he'd lent her. The skirt lay discarded upon the floor.
He blinked several times. "That's...not exactly appropriate for a girl your age."
"Where I'm from, you don't wear skirts when you're tramping over countryside. I don't like them and if you try to force me to wear it I'll just keep my shorts, thank you very much." She was the picture of defiance, and Kieran couldn't help but chuckle a bit, shaking his head.
"You are the most irritating mortal girl I've ever met," he said, eying her in amusement.
She gave him a sassy smile. "I'm the only mortal girl you've ever met."
.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.
Progress had been distressingly slow. Sarah had hoped that by now she'd be reunited with her daughter, however this was not so. The day prior, they'd come upon a camp where Jareth had found a tether, likely to keep her daughter from escaping. However, it had been discarded, left behind.
Which meant that it was likely that Erin wasn't trying to get away anymore.
Neither possible reason behind that really sat well with Sarah, because one was Stockholm Syndrome, where Erin had developed an affection or even love for her kidnapper; the other was Erin was in no shape to run any longer, which meant that she would have been beaten into submission.
Jareth had looked towards her in speculation and brushed aside her concerns.
Now, they were resting for the night on the mossy forest floor, and she noticed that Jareth had a look of concern on his own face. "You're worried," she said softly.
"They must not be resting very often. We're very close to the border, now and I cannot cross it. Anyone on that side would try to kill me, and I'll not put you in danger," he said quietly. "Besides, to attack the heir of that kingdom on their soil could be viewed as an act of war. I am uncertain how to proceed when we reach that crucial point."
Sarah looked towards him. "Yet you think that my concerns are silly and not worth the risk-"
"I don't think they're silly, precious. I think they're impossible."
She huffed, glaring at him. "Why, oh powerful Goblin King, is that?"
He shot her a dirty look. They had avoided getting too close to one another since the night he'd carried her to camp and they'd shared that heart-wrenching kiss. To touch was physically painful considering that they would be separated as soon as Erin was back in her mother's arms. As a result, their tempers were straining towards the source of the its frustration.
He rolled onto his side, looking at her. "Regarding her possibly falling in love with her kidnapper, I think you're forgetting that this is your child, and twelve years old for that matter. I find it hard to believe that a few days with an immortal are going to dazzle her as it would most mortals. Considering the fact that they're traipsing through the forest, I doubt he's doing anything to dazzle her. She's probably just as temperamental and snarky as her mother is in this situation."
She averted her gaze so that he wouldn't see the blush on her cheeks. "And why do you think the other is impossible?"
He pillowed his head on his hand, arching a brow at her. "The same reason as the other. This is your child we're talking about. She's probably driving that poor unknowing fool out of his skin for reasons he can't even begin to decipher."
"You make us found like a family of hateful seductresses." Sarah huffed, glaring towards him, seeing an amused smile on his face.
"No, my dear," he objected. "A seductress does it intentionally. You are just refreshing and unique, and that combination is difficult to deal with when one is unprepared. Hell, it's difficult when one is prepared. You seduced me unintentionally through your defiance and your innocence." She knew he saw the blush on her face, but the sad and amused look on his face made her unable to turn away from him. She dug inside herself, trying to find some fight, but she was so tired of fighting with him.
He made her hope that they could really be together.
He must have seen the pain and sadness that she felt, because as she turned away, his hand caught her face, holding her steady. She scents of the earth surrounded her, tempered by the scent of ozone and magic that came from the man above her. She found herself looking up into his mismatched eyes, her breath leaving her in a rush.
For a moment, she thought he would lean down and kiss her, but there was just that perplexed expression on his face, as though he were trying to understand something that he couldn't quite place. He remained as he was, frozen in place over her, his eyes searching hers for so long. "Does my presence cause you so much pain?"
She looked up at him in surprise. His face had grown weary, sad. She didn't want to lie to him, but she didn't want to hurt him, either. "Yes and no," she finally answered. "Sometimes, being here with you reminds me of what might have been, and that hurts more than I thought I could. Others, having you here beside me gives me comfort that I thought I'd never have again."
His eyes were sympathetic, but not pitying. After a long moment, he sat up. "I understand the feeling," he said after an equally long silence. He stared off into the trees, his face serious. "Being beside you causes the same feelings."
"Jareth," she said softly, sitting and moving towards him. She gently touched his face, drawing his attention back to her.
"You knew that I loved you when you married that mortal. When you gave yourself to him. I know why you did it, and I understand. I hope that for however long you two were together, that you were happy. However it nearly killed me when the next night I was not allowed into your dreams." He looked away from her. "I had hoped that whatever you felt for me was stronger than your need for human companionship."
She dropped her hand, closing her eyes against the pain. "I should have never married him," she acknowledged.
"He should have valued you for the woman you are," Jareth said quietly. "What was so terrible that after one year of marriage he couldn't work it out with you?"
She averted her gaze from him. "I did something that he couldn't forgive," she said softly. "It's for the best for Erin and I. We survived, and we're stable now." She gripped the toes of her boots, ignoring the dust.
"What did you do?" He looked towards her baffled. "Everything can be forgiven."
She couldn't answer that so she stood, pacing away from him, dragging a hand through her hair. "Jareth, it's not something I can explain right now."
"Why not?" He was getting agitated. She could see it from the frown cutting across his face. She groaned, pacing away from him. "Sarah, you're a loving and beautiful woman. How could he have not forgiven you for the smallest grievance? I can't imagine you doing something so terrible that he couldn't forgive you!"
"Have you forgiven me for leaving?" She lashed out at him because it was all she could do.
He snarled at her, moving towards her, gripping her arms hard. "I forgave you for that nineteen years ago! The moment you told me that you wanted to keep seeing me, I forgave you! I loved you, so it wasn't in me to deny you that much!"
"It would have been easier if you'd hated me," she yelled, trying to pull away from him.
"I can't hate you! There's nothing that you could tell me that would make me hate you!"
She lashed out, slapping him across the face, trying to shut him up. He grabbed her wrists and they wrestled for several long moments before she realized that they weren't using their voices any longer.
She wasn't entirely certain how it happened. One moment, they'd been arguing loudly, their fury and frustration practically a living thing. Now, however, she was pressed against a tree and his lips were against hers, still furious, the kiss tasting of a pain she recognized. They were still arguing. There was no point in denying that. However, the passion of their words had given away to the passion of action and she was fighting him as fiercely as he fought her.
His hands bit into her arms, likely leaving bruises from the pressure and she slipped her hands into the neck of his shirt, digging her nails into his shoulders and feeling the skin give under the pressure. He hissed in pain or pleasure, she wasn't really sure which, before his hands slipped down, gripping her backside as he lifted her off the ground. His body pressed her harder into the tree and she moaned into his kiss.
Her own hands moved to the front of his shirt and she gripped either side of the loose collar, jerking the shirt hard enough that she heard the fabric tear. Her eager fingers ran over his skin as his mouth found her ear and he was whispering violently into her ear, words she couldn't understand but she heard the same needy quality in his voice that she felt in her own body. When he thrust into her, the pressure hit her just right so that her body craved him.
"Jareth," she moaned, her head falling back and giving him access to her neck.
He breathed raggedly on her skin and she could swear that she felt his hands give the faintest tremble. Then, those trembling hands guided her legs to the ground and one reached around, stopping at the front of her pants. "Sarah," he breathed softly against her mouth and she forced her eyes open to look at him. "If you don't stop me now, I won't stop," he warned her softly.
Her breath tore from her and she knew he was warning her of something, but she didn't know what he was trying to tell her. "Do you want to stop," she wasn't sure where she found the ability to speak, but she did, and her words caused him to flinch.
"Yes," he breathed. "And never." His hand flipped open the buttons on her trousers and she felt them slide down her legs. She became aware enough of what was happening that she pulled back a bit to stare at him. She would have asked him what that meant, but he chased her, his mouth fastening on hers, pressing her back into the tree harder as his tongue swept into her mouth and one gloved hand slipped between her legs and began to caress her.
Her legs nearly gave out. She gripped his shoulders as his free arm snaked around her waist, supporting her and keeping her from falling as the other continued to torture her. She writhed against him, arching into his fingers as he drove her mad, until he withdrew, lifting that hand to his mouth, where he licked the gloved digits that had been playing with her.
She watched him, her jaw hanging slightly agape. Her throat was dry and she was certain that her face was burning. Then he shifted and she became aware that when his hand was between them, he'd freed himself from his own trousers as well. The flush on her face darkened until she was certain that her whole face was red and his hands slid along her legs, coaxing her to wrap them around his hips. "Jareth," she breathed uncertainly.
His eyes met hers as she felt him press into hers and her breathing hitched. She wanted to watch his expression, but her head went back as she gasped out sharply in pleasure. It was so intense, the pleasure was almost pain and her head jerked back, her fingers biting into his arms. A whimpered cry left her and she heard his answering moan.
He went slow, inch by inch, until his hips pressed into her own and she was finally able to open her eyes and look at him. He was looking at her, his expression one that looked as pained as it was pleased. Her hands lifted to his face, running across his cheekbones, his jaw, all the sculpted lines. "Jareth," she whispered, awed and heart-broken.
In response to his name, he adjusted his grip on her, one arm going around her back, caressing her spine, the other cupping the base of her skull as he coaxed her to lean forward so he might kiss her. "Sarah," he breathed against her lips, taking them as he began to move within her.
Heaven help her, it was exactly how she remembered it. It had been one time, one dream, before she'd belong to someone else. Likely the man would never understand that she'd always been his. Even as a fifteen year old girl, she'd been more captivated by him than anyone before, or anyone after. She'd been so desperate to know that his words weren't just the final move in a game that she'd drawn him into her dreams and he'd courted her so patiently those six years.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, breaking the kiss to look down into his face – into his eyes – as he continued to claim her with that violent passion. As she stared down at him, she saw the naked truth written across his beloved face. It was the same for him. He may claim otherwise, he may even lie to her face, but he needed her as much as she needed him. Tears pierced her eyes and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his own. "I need you," she whispered, her voice breaking.
His breath rushed from his lips, ragged on her face. "I know," he whispered back, thrusting harder into her. She cried out, her head falling back once again. He continued, "as much as I need you, I know." His voice was tight with suppressed frustration and passion, and she gripped the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to her own, kissing him passionately, lovingly.
Finally she pulled back and cried out to him, "Jareth, please." Her face pressed into the wild mane of hair. "Don't hold back, not from me," she felt tears wetting her eyes and a soft sob left her. "Not when I love you so much."
Those whimpered words seemed to shatter his steel resolve. He shifted his grip, taking hold of her hips and driving himself into her with so much force it almost hurt, but it was still so good that she couldn't ask him to stop. He held her eyes with his, refusing to let her look away from him as he drove himself into her.
Sarah cupped his face between her hands, staring into his beautiful eyes, even as she felt her body thrown over the edge. She threw her head back, drawing his head to her chest and hugging him tightly as she gasped, moaned and finally came on him. She heard him laugh – that arrogant bastard laughed – but it was a desperate sound. A final thrust and he froze, holding her as tightly as she held him and she knew he had as well, at the same time or seconds after hers. She gave her own weak, desperate laugh, her hands curling into fists within his soft hair. Tears wet her face and she pressed it against his shoulder as his grip loosened and she slid down him just a bit.
His hands softened, gentled as they stroked her hair and he pressed his face against the side of hers. His ragged breaths tickled her ear and she shivered slightly. After a moment, he slipped to his knees, not releasing her as he fell. "Sarah," he whispered softly, his voice weak with exhaustion. "Sarah..." He lay on the ground, holding her close against him, his hands stroking and gripping her with care.
Their anger had been worked out of them; the passion was warm flames still lapping at their bodies. She turned his face to hers gently, wanting to see the look in his face, the look in his eyes. Joy was mixed with the frustration that still shone in his eyes. She touched the corners of his eyes with gentle care and whispered back softly. "Jareth."
She had to tell him. They'd find Erin sooner or later, and he needed to know before they did. She closed her eyes, tightening her grip on the man she loved for so long. Finally, she swallowed the pride she'd held onto since she'd first seen him again and turned her face into his neck once more. "Jareth," she began softly. "Erin is your daughter."