The Goblin King's Daughter
By: DemonSaya
Chapter Eight
It was midday when the messenger came to the Goblin Kingdom and found Jareth sitting upon his throne with Sarah upon his lap, flirting with her mercilessly even as the man came through the door. The goblins instantly went silent, although Jareth and Sarah's mild argument did not end.
"Jareth, this really has to stop," Sarah complained, still trying to extract herself from his lap.
"No, no, my dear. It doesn't." He was laughing, couldn't help laughing, even as he noticed the man slink into the room, unannounced. "You'd do well to sit still, my dear. It appears we have company." He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes as she shot to attention, her eyes falling upon the messenger as well. Instantly, she was no longer an awkward mortal woman in the lap of a fae. Suddenly she was a queen upon a throne, and she managed it from his lap – an admirable feat in itself.
"I bring a message from King Bram." The poor messenger was trembling, terrified, as if aware that his life was in grave danger.
Jareth rested his head upon Sarah's shoulder, smiling in amusement. "Oh, do you?" He felt Sarah relax a bit into him. He knew she was relieved that they were getting some form of news now that they weren't on her daughter's trail anymore.
The messenger was trembling as he unrolled the scroll. "Lord Bram wishes to invite King Jareth of the Goblin Kingdom to a ball to be held in honor of his remaining son, Prince Kieran, who has taken a bride." The trembling was even worse now.
Jareth sat back, tapping his chin with a thumb. "Isn't Prince Kieran a bit young to think about getting married," he mused aloud. "And just who is the...lucky bride?"
The messenger's shaking grew worse, telling him that he fully expected to die for his answer. "Prince Kieran is honored to receive Lady Erin Williams, daughter of the Labyrinth's Champion, as his bride."
Sarah sucked in a sharp breath and he felt the tension return to her. Jareth wrapped his arms around her, setting a hand gently upon her stomach. "Just relax, precious. If you grow tense, they'll know who you are and the messenger will report your presence to Bram," he warned softly, so that only she'd hear him. As requested, she sank into his touch, closing her eyes and pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.
"What are we going to do," she whispered back.
He laughed, standing and setting Sarah into the throne, leaning over her for a moment. "We're going to get into that little party and see what we can do from there." He straightened, moving towards the messenger, his hand extended. "Very well, extend my deepest thanks for the invitation. I know our kingdoms have not always been cordial with each other. I do hope that this is a step towards...friendship and not one of war."
The young man looked like he was about to piss himself and the goblins were snickering now. When the envelope was placed in Jareth's hand, his other gripped the messenger's wrist. "Do give Bram my best, won't you?" He smiled broadly, revealing each and every sharp, pointed tooth.
The man trembled, nodding sharply, and then pulled free of his grip, running from the throne room. The goblins laughed, sounding slightly malicious as they gave chase, just as far as the throne room doors. Jareth watched the man run, his lips pulling into a faint frown. Finally, when Sarah's hand touched his, he tore his gaze away, seeing tension on her face. "Alright, love, let's go see what this is all about," he said, taking her hand and leading her to a drawing room that was off the side of the throne room. He sat in a chair and with the wave of his hand, a letter opener sat on it.
He split the short end of the envelope, drawing out the invitation with a deep frown. "The boy certainly is clever," he muttered, sitting in a chair and crossing an ankle to rest on the opposite knee. He tapped his cheekbone a few times with a finger as he read and reread the invitation before handing it to Sarah.
"I don't understand," Sarah said quietly. "Why is he marrying Erin? She's just a child."
He gave her a wry look. "This might traumatize your sensibilities, but Erin would be considered proper marrying age here, not...I believe your above ground term is 'jail-bait'. If she'd grown up here, it would have been fifty or sixty years for her to mature to this age physically, but in the above, mortals mature much faster, so physically, she is old enough. Mentally..." he shrugged. "Regardless, once they arrived at his father's home, something happened where she was put in danger, and likely that boy talked them out of harming her with this."
She frowned faintly, looking at him. "How is this not harming her?"
He sighed patiently, looking at her. "Don't be obtuse, my dear. This way, his father cannot harm her and she is protected from being raped or worse by the guards. She would be sleeping in his quarters, would be at his side most of the time." He saw understanding dawn upon her face and gave her a tight smile. "Although I doubt the servants are pleased with him."
Sarah leaned forward, touching his hand gently. "Jareth, what are we going to do?"
He lifted his gaze, giving her a broad smile. "Well, love, it looks like we're going to a ball. So I suppose we're going to be getting fitted for suitable clothing."
She thought about that and winced. "Oh, dear...Erin is not going to be happy about that..."
.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.
"WHAT THE HELL?"
Kieran winced, glancing towards the door as Erin bolted into the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Her hair, which was usually shoulder length was now hanging down her back and she had a lovely green dress on. He could still see the shining pins sticking out.
Her young, freckled face was dark red, however he wasn't certain if that was from fury or from embarrassment. Knowing her it could have been either.
Unfortunately, now was a really bad time for her to show everyone that she had a temper. "Is there a problem, Erin," he asked calmly, sipping his tea, ignoring the other men who were in the room discussing politics, war, and the possibility of defeating the Goblin King.
She hesitated, taking view of the room, of all the men who were suddenly staring down their noses at her. She drew herself to her full height, which was rather impressive for a twelve year old, and moved primly towards him. "Lord Kieran, may I have a moment to speak to you?" Her mismatched eyes flicked towards the others in the room. "Alone?" When those eyes met his, there was nothing prim or demure in them. Damn. She really was a good actress.
He leaned back in his chair, inclining his head to the side. "I thought you were being fitted for some clothes." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and smirking up at her. He practically watched her temper flare, wondering how long she'd be able to keep up her little act.
"That, prince, is the problem." Her tone was biting. She lifted her face and gave the other men a dazzling smile and he felt a surge of jealousy that he refused to admit to. "You all wouldn't mind, would you? It'll just take a minute."
Those men, who were some of the most brilliant minds in his father's kingdom, nodded dumbly and began to file out of the room, now talking once again about whatever they'd been talking about before, although the conversations were now sprinkled with comments about the prince's 'lovely bride'. Once the door was shut behind the last of them, he tipped out of his chair, falling to the floor, laughing hysterically.
Meanwhile, as he did, Erin simply stood there, examining her nails, waiting for his bout with laughter to end. Once it finally died down to the occasional hiccup and snort, he was able to pull himself back into his seat and offer his hands to her. "Well, you certainly can turn on the charm when you wish, can't you?"
She gave him a wry look. "I did mention that I was able to manipulate my mother if I wanted, didn't I?" She sat in the chair across from him and he had to fight the urge to start laughing again as she pulled her legs up into the chair, crossing them in 'Indian-style'. "Prince, do you know what this dress is made out of?"
"I can't say I do," he offered, noting the formal 'prince', instead of his name. It was probably prudent of her. As if this was just a part she was playing, and these were her choreographed lines.
"I do. This is made out of taffeta. I hate taffeta. I like cotton. I like wool. I like denim and leather. Those are durable fabrics that have usefulness. I do not see the use in taffeta." She paused for a long moment. "You also know how I feel about the usefulness of dresses, and let me assure you, that I view this sort of dress to be the most useless sort."
He chuckled, leaning back in his chair and looking at her carefully. "You want me to explain just how lucky you are to be wearing that dress right now?" He stood, offering her his hand. "Come with me, Erin." Her lips pursed and she set her hand upon his own, letting him pull her to her feet. He walked her over towards a mirror, setting her in front of it. He stood behind her, his hands on her partially bare shoulders.
Erin stared blankly into the mirror. "I don't understand."
He rested his chin on her head, giving her an amused smile. "This dress accentuates the fact that you've got a narrow waist, shows the beginning of the curves you'll have as a woman, and the color flatters your skin and hair. It shows that you are a lady, not an urchin, and let me assure you, little one," he met her gaze in the mirror and saw surprise within it. "If not for the fact that you're wearing this dress, you would have never cleared this room of men."
Her cheeks were softly flushed pink, her eyes were wide in shock, and there was something else in her expression that he couldn't quite read. Suddenly, her eyes were torn from him and the mirror, her hair shielding her face. The mouthy, bratty Erin Williams was embarrassed, and she looked shockingly shy and vulnerable.
With a sigh, he leaned down, brushing his lips across her temple, to her cheekbone, letting them linger there for a long moment. Her cheek felt hot under his lips and when he opened his eyes, he saw her own were open wide, and her face was turning darker red. So she wouldn't see the blush and respond with temper or awkwardness, he steered her away from the mirror, towards the door. "Come along, I'll escort you back to the poor ladies you probably terrified." He chuckled softly, but it felt forced. "If you're that against wearing dresses, I'll retain your trousers and shirt. I would even go as far as recommend you wear those trousers beneath your dresses. As an added layer of protection," he said quietly.
She glanced back at him and her face was still slightly pink. "Kieran, what did they do to my hair?" The question was mumbled. "It was short this morning..."
He chuckled, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "They probably bespelled it so that they'd have something to work with. You don't need to worry about it. It looks cute."
She didn't answer and her gaze returned in front of her. "I saw a messenger leave this morning."
He glanced towards her, hearing the question and sighed, knowing the blushing girl was replaced with the urchin he knew. "Yes," he agreed. "Father sent out invitations to all of the neighboring kingdoms to a ball in our honor," he scoffed at the ending there.
"Do...do you think father will come?"
He stopped in the hallway, turning her towards him. Gently, he slipped a hand beneath her chin, forcing her face up. He gave her a faint smile. "I'm not good enough company, Princess?"
She snorted. "You know what I mean."
He nodded, sobering. "I guess I do," he allowed, then continued, "and yes, I think he will come."
She nodded in acceptance, her defiant eyes not leaving his own. He finished walking her down the hall to the open door where dress-makers were pacing restlessly, looking worried. When they saw him, they squeaked in surprise. Gently, he propelled her into the room. "I don't think she'll give you fine ladies any more trouble," he said, shooting them a winning smile.
He might have been crazy, but he could have sworn he'd seen a flash of jealousy in mismatched eyes before she was swept back into the storm of movement that was her fitting, and he left the room, a faint smirk on his face.
Rather than returning to the drawing room, he returned to his own room, flinging himself upon the bed. His hand pillowed beneath his head and he stared at the canopy hanging over him. What the hell he was doing? He set his other hand over his eyes- flirting with a child who wasn't even ready for a relationship, and likely wouldn't be for a great number of years.
Though, he'd probably be dead before then...
He huffed, and heard some strange tinkling music and his eyes opened, finding a small bubble-like globe floating through his window. It moved towards him and when he put his hand down, it burst, and an envelope dropped into his hand. He frowned faintly at it, his brow arching and he shrugged, pulling a small knife from beneath his pillow and sliced open the side of the envelope.
The script was a scrawling one, yet easily read. "Lord Kieran, my Sarah and I appreciate your intervention on our daughter's behalf. I imagine that by now she's turning you inside out. I should know, her mother is the same way… that aside, if you set a hand on my daughter, I'll break them both, just to prevent it happening again.
Your future father-in-law, Jareth, King of the Goblins."
He blinked, read the letter again, and put a hand over his mouth to smother his laughter. "Their whole family is insane," he muttered, shaking his head and sighing as he lay back on the bed. He opened his drawer, setting the letter inside it and locking it shut. No one would be getting that letter. He would let Erin read it when her fitting was done. It was a risk. Of course it was. Anyone in this kingdom could use that as incriminating evidence that he was on the side of the Goblin King.
In truth, he was on the side of other sovereign. They both wanted to protect Erin, so that made them shaky allies for that reason alone. Yet, he was putting her in danger by keeping that damn letter. Stupid romantic intentions, he thought, swearing softly.
He closed his eyes and his humor now depleted. After Erin read it, he'd burn the damn thing.
.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.
Sarah sighed as she stood there, and the seamstress moved swiftly around her, fast enough to make her head swim. "I don't understand why this is necessary, Jareth," she complained, her lips pulled into a tight frown.
"You want to verify with your own eyes that your daughter is safe, do you not?" Jareth was sprawled over a chair in the room, looking remarkably comfortable. She'd been sprawled in the exact same chair an hour ago, while he'd stood here, perfectly calm and unruffled as he'd been scrambled over, measured, poked, prodded, and had various colors and fabrics lay against him, to see what looked best against his coloring.
"Well, yes," she agreed, still frowning. "But what does that have to do with this?"
"In order to get close enough to your daughter for you to speak with her, we're going to attend that ball." He smirked at her. "Naturally, I have reasons of my own for wishing to go. For one, I would like to meet my daughter. I also would like to see that place with my own eyes and know for certain who is standing against me. And I admit, I'm rather interested to see how you clean up after all these years," he said and she knew he meant to distract her with that last bit.
She frowned faintly, refusing to be distracted, even as the woman turned her forcefully and began measuring along one of her arms. "Wouldn't it be Bram?"
He looked irritated that she didn't change the topic. "Yes, but he is not necessarily the whole of the problem. There are rumors that his once brilliant mind has grown a bit dull, and that he's slipped deeper into his madness. It might be due to loss. The fae tend to take things like that rather poorly." Those eyes lifted, pinning her. "From what I've heard, he not only lost his lover, he's also lost his queen. Shortly after her death, he lost his seventh son – who would have been his next heir – to some manner of illness. He's steps away from becoming a Fisher King, and it would only require one final push to make it happen."
"Fisher King?" She frowned at the term. "You mean like from Arthurian mythos, with the grail cup?"
His eyes moved towards her and he frowned faintly. "My dear, that is a term that has been around longer than the story of the Grail. What I mean the male equivalent to a bean sidhe. A banshee. It happens when one of my kind goes...beyond saving. They're so lost in their madness that all they can do is warn others of coming disaster."
There was something in Jareth's eyes that caused her concern. "Jareth?"
"Typically the fae are not so attached to anything that this would happen. However, when we care about something a great deal, it becomes a hazard, so we protect things that we hold precious." He smiled, but didn't look at her. The silence between them went longer than she was comfortable with and she shifted, wondering what he wasn't telling her.
After that long silence, he focused upon her again. "So, why is it that you think Erin will be so unhappy with being fitted for new clothing?"
She gave him a painful smile. "Erin isn't fond of dresses or skirts. She has firm opinions about clothing, and the one time she had to get fitted for a dress she threw a temper tantrum that is legendary in my family to this day. Karen went as far as to say she made my puberty look like easy sailing, and even made me look like an angel." Sarah snorted. "It was bad. Very bad. I haven't gotten her to wear a dress since."
Jareth just tilted his head back and laugh. "Well, then, aren't you glad that you're not the one dealing with her this time?"
.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.
"Don't you think Prince Kieran has become much more...handsome since his return from the Above," one of the dressmakers asked another as they stuck pins in the waist of the blue dress they were now fitting on her. It looked like whether she wanted or not, she was going to end up with a collection of frilly dresses.
Erin blinked at the question, glancing towards the other seamstress, who sighed softly, a dreamy look in her eyes. "It's almost like he's grown up a bit." That one smiled, slipping another pin into the dress. "Before, he used to play around all the time, you remember. Now that he's finally recognized by the family, he seems much more responsible, and he's going to be a very desirable commodity now that he's officially the heir."
It crossed her mind that these two ninnies with pins were even more idiotic than she'd initially thought when they'd stuffed her in the green taffeta dress. "It's almost a pity that in order to be accepted into the family he has to marry a little child like this. She can't possibly appreciate the prince," the one hemming the blue silk said, giving her a disdainful look. "And it's not like he's not going to have plenty of ladies to fill his bed when he's feeling unappreciated."
Erin looked down at her, giving her a placid smile. "I assure you that I...appreciate the prince just fine and he rather likes how well I do," she taunted, making sure that her voice was as laced with insinuation as their own. Both gasped as though shocked, and they began stitching and pinning quicker. She was feeling moody and bitchier today than usual. She already was notorious for picking fights back home, but today she felt sharper, more mean, so their shock brought her a fierce kind of pleasure that felt almost like pain in her stomach.
"What can you expect from a slut that dresses like a man," a voice near the door scoffed and Erin looked towards it, finding a young man with dark hair and skin several shades more pale and sallow that Kieran's own. His eyes were muddy brown and filled with hate. She didn't know who this man was, but she could feel the rage emanating from him. The rage made her stomach churn and the pain grew worse.
"Oh, Lord Fachen, come to see what we can make of the foul-mouthed urchin?" The girls tittered their laughter behind their hands, reveling in their insults. "Supposing she dresses up well enough, is it true that the King is holding a ball to celebrate the consummation?"
The man called Fachen moved away from the door, his hand grabbing her chin as soon as he was close enough. "Indeed he is, ladies. A grand ball for a fake heir and a halfling princess. What a waste of funds. Then again it's just an excuse to piss on the foot of the Goblin King."
Erin kept her gaze on the face of the man. It was lucky for her that Kieran was twice the man that this little bastard was. He continued looking down at her and speaking as if she weren't even there, as if she were just some piece of jewelry or bit of porcelain that decorated a shelf. Her fury was quickly spiraling out of control and suddenly a sharp pain hit her gut. It startled her so badly that she crumpled, her hands covering her stomach.
Kieran must have been coming through the door just then because he was suddenly at her side and there was yelling all around her. "What did you do, Fachen!"
"I didn't do anything! I only touched her face!" The other voice, the one that had been so malicious was now laced with fear.
Hands touched her face, her hair, a touch she recognized. A smell met her nose and she opened her eyes to find gold ones looking down at her. The smell was unlike anything she'd ever smelled before, faintly musky, yet sweet. She felt him shift and he gripped her, lifting her off the ground. "You'd better not have harmed her, Fachen. If she is dead, then we all are. Don't forget that," he said and Erin shuddered, burrowing her face into Kieran's shoulder. The smell was stronger here and she suddenly realized she was smelling him, and it was a smell she'd never smelled before.
Ugh, what the hell. Now was a lousy time to go through puberty, she decided. It hurt a hell of a lot more than everyone always said it would, too. She'd felt fine moments ago – pissed off, but fine – so why did it hit her like a freight train?
The man holding her paused, and then began moving more swiftly towards the room they'd been sharing since she'd first arrived here. Once within, he set her down carefully and she noticed that the pinning had come loose and she still had a long string with a needle hanging from the hem. "Get the dress off, put on a shift. I'll see if I can get one of the servants in here to help you," he said, and then he was heading towards the door again.
"Kieran, what's happening to me," she asked, knowing she sounded a bit panicked. She didn't want him to leave while she was still scared, and she was only getting more so, because she could feel a hot moisture between her legs that didn't feel normal. She knew it had to be blood, she knew enough to know that, but this felt nothing like her mother had described. It felt like being stabbed repeatedly with an object that had an odd shape, so it didn't slice cleanly.
He turned towards her, and she blinked when his lips touched her forehead gently. "Just wait a minute, Erin. Change your clothes and wait. I'll be back." With that promise, he was out the door and down the hall before the door closed behind him again.
"How the hell am I supposed to get this dress off by myself?" she half-wailed. She looked down at the delicate silk and gave a huff of impatience, considering just ripping the fabric. But then she'd half to endure standing there for a whole extra dress to be pinned onto her, and she was not going to be treated like a dress-up doll anymore, dammit, even if Kieran thought she looked pretty in them.
She blushed, ashamed to admit that he was the only reason she'd endured two days of being poked and prodded and measured and tweaked. When he'd held her in front of that mirror and told her that she had looked like a lady, instead of a child, it had made her feel beautiful for the first time and she'd liked that. A lot. Unfortunately, she'd had enough. She shimmied, managing to get half the buttons open before Kieran came in with a large, plump woman in a drab gray dress and an apron.
The woman's eyes focused on her and she breathed deeply, then she turned towards Kieran and waved him out. "Damn boy, get out of here. I'll deal with this." Then the door was pushed shut on the prince's stunned face.
"Huh, I thought I was the only one who made him look like that," she mused, seconds before another cramp made her groan and press her hands against her lower abdomen. "Goddammit, what the hell is wrong with me?"
The woman moved behind her, swiftly opening the buttons of her dress until it fell to the ground. Erin was horrified to find her petticoats turning red. "Just as I thought from the way the young master described your behavior. The young miss is now a young Lady." The woman helped her out of the rest of her clothes and helped her change into a shift and her trousers, then presented her several long strips of cotton.
"Shit," Erin muttered. "I always thought I'd be with my mom when this happened, so I'd be a little prepared...but this doesn't feel anything like she said it would, and I didn't expect it to hurt like this."
"First time always hurts for a fae," the woman told her, and then took her arms, walking her towards the bed and helping her sit. "Fold the strips and use them to absorb the blood. The first day or so, they'll likely need to be changed every hour or so." The woman sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her. "My name is Mab, by the way. I work here as a doctor for the servants."
"You know Kieran?"
The woman looked at her, her graying brows arching. "Well enough, or I thought I did. This mess with his father has changed him from the boy I knew."
"The dressmakers were commenting that he's gotten more attractive. He still looks like a matt-headed feather-head to me."
The woman stared at her for a long moment and then chuckled. "You get away with calling him that?"
She looked at the woman and arched an eyebrow. "I'd call it a prerequisite. We weren't very cordial to each other when we...met."
"When he kidnapped you," the woman's understanding gaze was suddenly dark and angry.
Erin shrugged. "Call it how you wish. I know a lot more of the story than you, and Kieran kept me safe during the trip here." She winced as another cramp hit, but this one wasn't as bad as the first.
The woman was giving her a queer look. "Well," she paused. "Try not to worry the boy too much," she said, then stood, moving towards the door. "Do you want to see him?"
"It's his room," Erin answered, getting comfortable, laying down on the bed and pulling the covers over herself.
.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.
Kieran paced the halls, and everyone danced out of his way as soon as they saw him. Fachen, his greedy cousin, was quite lucky that he didn't run across him while Mab was looking Erin over. He might have punched the bastard again. He didn't know what was wrong with Erin, but her scent was changing and he could smell blood thick in his nose.
When Mab found him, he was prowling the kitchens, ignoring the dirty looks from the staff, munching on a cookie that was on the cookie tray. When he saw her, the cookie fell from limp fingers and he moved swiftly towards the older woman. "Is she okay?"
She looked at him, inclining her head. "I've never seen you get so spun up over a girl, Kieran," the woman said, her eyes amused. "Come along, we'll talk in private." She grabbed his ear and dragged him to a quiet room off the kitchen that the staff used when they were taking breaks, or needed to vent some frustration. She watched as he staggered over to a table, sitting on it and dragging a hand through his hair.
"Dammit, Mab, is she okay?"
"She's just going through puberty, prince. Obviously, this is her first time and it scared her a bit." She looked at him, arching a brow. "You didn't rape her, did you?" His eyes snapped towards her but she maintained a calm look on her face. "No girl her age who'd been raped would jump to the defense of her attacker, going as far as to say that you've been protecting her."
He relaxed, nodding. "She's...I don't know how to explain it, Mab," he said, lowering his head. "She's clumsy and defiant and kind." He snorted. "Even if she did try to kick my privates clear to Oberon's palace..."
Mab snorted and he looked at her, finding her face warm with amusement. "You like her," she teased lightly.
He shook his head. "I think I'm in love with her."
That wiped the mirth from her face. "Kieran, are you serious?" He understood her shock as well as her fear. "She's just a child, she can't possibly understand-"
Frustration gripped him and he stood, pacing. "Dammit, I know that." He'd been battling himself about that since he'd realized it himself. "She's just a child, by our standards an infant. She's not ready for a relationship with something like me." His hand tore through his hair, catching several tangles on its way. "All I know is that I want to protect her, to make sure she gets out of this situation whole, since I'm the one who put her in it in the first place."
Mab looked at him, her brow creasing slightly. "She's resting right now. You should rest too. Maybe I'm the only one who noticed, but Fachen has been skulking around, and he's never liked you, child. Keep a close eye on that girl; because I've no doubt that she'll become fodder if your loyalty comes into question."
He stood slowly, nodding. "I'm going now," he said calmly, then left, walking through the halls, towards his room. When he opened the door, the blood-scent had faded, but only slightly. Erin was lying on his bed, sleeping, wearing her shift, but there were trousers peeking from beneath the hem. He sighed softly, changing his clothing, then climbing into bed beside her.
Once he was under the covers, she turned, snuggling closer to him and he sighed, putting his arms around her. There was only a week until that damn ball his father was planning. As he began to doze off, he wondered if the Goblin King really was going to show up.