There's a tiny sense of disorientation and then we are standing in a part of the castle I've never seen before. It's a large balcony overlooking the orchard. Goblin voices filter up to us from the trees and I can clearly pick out my girls who are not the lest put out by their companions as they race from tree to tree. Their apples disappear nearly as soon as they are dropped into the baskets. Quick goblin hands thriving them away.
Asher lands a smack on the nose of a blazing orange Fiery who collapses in a giggly heap still clutching his pilfered fruit in a disembodied paw.
"They seem to be having fun," I say.
"Everyone has fun here."
"Are we having fun?" I turn to face him.
"Of course," he smiles. "Although, we could always be having more fun."
"What are we doing up here, your majesty?"
"First things first, I need to get you out of that dress," he says.
I can feel my face flame red as I start to scald him…
"As perfect as it is for a walk around the orchards, it will never do for a party," he cuts me off. "Really, Sarah. If I had a mind to seduce you, surely you realize I'd go about it in a more eloquent manner."
I ignore that last statement. "A party? I told you no tricks Jareth, you promised!" I jab a finger into his chest.
"I said, fine." He grins. "That hardly sounds like a promise to me. I was acknowledging that you'd set forth terms. I never truly agreed to them."
I want to smack him. "How many annual apple picking festivals and matches have there been?"
"Counting this one? Just one," his eyes are laughing at me.
The urge to stomp my foot is strong, but I take a deep breath instead. "Why should I go to a party with you?"
"Someone we have an interest in will be there. You see, since your last visit, I've been thinking…"
"That's terrifying." I narrow my eyes at him.
"Nevertheless, I feel that if we put our two, admittedly devious minds together, we can come up with a way to shake my lovely cousin…"
"Your cousin?"
"Did you not see the resemblance? He is a distant cousin, and as you said, I am far more handsome. I can see how you missed it. You have eyes only for me after all…"
"Your arrogance knows no bounds," I shake my head.
Jareth leans toward me suddenly, "Am I wrong?" There's no levity the words.
My eyes immediately find his lips, which curve into an delighted smirk. I sigh. There's no sense in lying to him or myself, so I don't answer. "You brought the girls here so I wouldn't worry about them while we crash this party."
"They are safe here. No one would even think to look for them in the Labyrinth. And, if they did, they wouldn't dare," he answers. "Ishmael, or whatever he's calling himself today, will keep an eye on them. Higgle and Didymus are down there as well."
"Alright," I answer feeling a silly sense of excitement. "And, you know his name is Hoggle."
"Do I?"
I can only shake my head in exasperation. There has been so much head shaking already and the evening just started.
0ooOoo0
Ashamedly, I find myself clutching Jareth's velvet clad arm. I catch sight of us in a mirrored wall that makes me think unkindly of peach induced dreams, but I know who I am now, and I know him. We look charming together. I am dark where he is fair and the ethereal dress matches his waistcoat perfectly. Not an accident, I'm sure.
"The crown was too much Jareth," I hiss in his ear as we watch fairy couples dance and twirl across a blue tiled floor. We are in the Summer Court. They are celebrating the last five days of the season—heartily.
Wine flows from fountains, birds sing from the trees that make up the Court's columns. It's beautiful and intoxicating.
"It's not a crown, Sarah. It's a diadem."
"Same thing, Jareth."
"No, a diadem is more like a headband," he shrugs. "Do you want to dance?"
"Will I dance until my feet fall off?" I eye the mortals meandering through the crowds wearily. They seem so happy…I don't trust that look at all.
"Stop being such an old maid," he slips my hand into his and pulls me onto the floor.
"I am not an old maid," I growl as his arms come around me. My pulse quickens and I try to not think about how good he smells or how much I like the playfulness in his eyes.
"A fact of which I am very aware," he whispers into my ear.
For a while we just dance. But, when we stop he hands me a flask, "Just water. I'm sure you know better than to drink from the fountains."
"Thank you," I am thirsty, and despite my usual protests, I trust him—a little.
"Hello, Sarah," says a chilly voice.
I look up to find Frost, alarmingly charming, dressed in his blues and silvers. "Frost," I don't want to have a conversation with him. I really don't.
"You look well," his eyes are so pale, they are nearly white, except for the dark navy ring around his irises. They are the type of eyes that bewitch the unexpecting, I am not one of those.
"As do you dear," I say as sweetly as possible.
Jareth is watching the exchange with an arched eyebrow.
"Thank you," Frost smiles, his whole face fills with impish mischief. "Autumn is so near. It is one of my favorite times of year."
"I know it is," I draw, not able to stop my eyes from rolling.
"How is she?" He leans toward me and I sincerely hope that he doesn't have the sense to unite with Gwyn. If the two of them get together I will certainly be in over my head. Out of my three charges, Emma is the only one I don't fear for still. Her vampire hasn't been seen in such a long time. He's probably returned to his forest haunts and easy tourists in Eastern Europe. If only it were so easy to shake these fairy men.
"I'm not talking about her with you," I look away, dismissing him.
"You're such a hypocrite, Sarah." Frost sighs. "Just look at you all trussed up, the ornament on my dear cousin's arm."
"Are you related to every white haired fairy in existence?" I turn to Jareth with a glare. It's unbelievable, I should've suspected it.
"Only the aristocratic ones," Jareth grins. "If it helps, we all hate each other."
Why am I not surprised.
Turning back to Frost, "I'm not a hypocrite! He is helping me, I am not here for him."
"No one uses the Goblin King," Frost stares at me pityingly. "You've overestimated yourself, Sarah."
"I beat him!" I growl.
"She's practically feral," a not-entirely-unfamiliar voice draws. There's a heavy scent of earth and dry leaves. It isn't unpleasant, just unnerving.
Gwyn has appeared out of nowhere, he spares me only a cursory glance, his eyes not meeting anyone else's, like he can't bare the contact. "I will have the next dance," he stares at the space between Jareth and myself.
"Did you ask?" Jareth's voice is colder than Frost's had been.
"Do you mind?" It's hard to tell from whom he's requesting permission. The feminist in me finds this a little too hard to ignore. "I suppose I can spare you a dance."
The King of the Autumn Court takes my hand and I reluctantly let go of Jareth, not certain this is a good idea at all. But, I don't embarrass myself, I look straight ahead, and pretend that I am haughty enough for the damned diadem upon my head.
Then I remember the gloved hand holding mine is actually a claw and my heart does a strange flip-flop. I should've stayed with Jareth. This was a mistake.
Except that Jareth doesn't make mistakes—unless he is busy underestimating young girls. There is something I need to get from Gwyn. Putting on my best I-dance-with-fairy-kings-all-the-time face, I place my hand on Gwyn's shoulder as his comes around my waist and the stirrings of a waltz descend upon the ballroom.
Gwyn's gaze stays on my lips, but not in a way that makes me think he's attracted to me. No, he just doesn't like to meet the eyes of other people. We whirl around the dance floor—of course, he is a marvelous dancer.
I can't help but ask, "Why her?" If Gwyn is infatuated with Asher, the man is more of a mystery that I'd previously thought. He doesn't strike me as the romantic type, or the anything type. I certainly can't imagine a world in which he is—what had she said—charming?
A small, somewhat vicious, smile curves his lips. I find I too am avoiding eye contact.
Fairy's don't lie. Sometimes they talk around the truth, but Gwyn doesn't mince words. "She made me laugh, once."
"So, you intend to hire her on as your jester?" My eyes move to his but I immediately have to look somewhere else.
"I don't have to explain myself to you," his voice is rough and husky, so different from Jareth's silken tones. "The girl made me a promise, and I will collect on it," he leads us into a dizzying twirl, perfectly in sync with the other dancers. "I suggest you put all notions of standing in my way aside."
"I can't do that," my eyes land on the silver buttons of his black coat.
"When you take my words back to the Goblin King, he will tell you much the same thing. He needed to know what type of relationship I had with the girl, that's why he gave you up to me so easily. He doesn't like to share his things," he sends me spinning out and draws me roughly back into him. "Promises in our world are not like the petty things that pass for such in yours."
His eyes meet mine for the first time. They are so violently green, so demanding, "I will have her."
The music comes to an end, Gwyn bows elegantly in my direction and leaves me standing there, pondering his words.
She made me laugh, once.
"Damn," I say.
"That was excruciating," Jareth has taken my hand and pulled me into him, another dance has started and he draws us effortlessly into it. Thankfully, he has lost Frost.
"He gives me the creeps," I say.
"Me too," Jareth chuckles. "Even as a child, actually, it was worse then. A child should never be that cold."
"Frost?" I frown in confusion.
"No, the other one. Frost isn't cold, just asinine."
"He's in love with her," I feel my shoulders sink in defeat. "Why is it that they always fall in love? It would be so much easy if they didn't."
"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean."
Blood rushes to my face in a wave of heat and I hurry on, "She's made him so kind of promise."
"Who?"
"Asher."
"Oh, we've moved beyond Frost then? I can't keep up with you it seems."
I roll my eyes as we spin around and around.
"That makes things difficult," Jareth replies. "You may be able to hide her this year, but for how long will that be a viable option?"
"How does one break a promise to a fairy king?" I ask.
"You don't," Jareth's eyes catch mine. "What's said, is said."
"She'll have to honor whatever the promise is…" my mind is whirling along with our feet. "I need to find out exactly what she's promised him. We can't break it, but maybe there is a way around it?"
"Perhaps?" Jareth grins.
"Can we go back now?" I ask as the music slows once more and the dancers with it.
"Your wish is my command," Jareth replies.
In a blink, I open my eyes to see the twilight haze of the Labyrinth. The orchard has descended into a battleground. Apples are hurled across the lanes, smashing into makeshift barriers as goblins and girls duck for cover. Emma is leading a troop of goblins against Asher. It seems Rachel and Ishmael are hiding in a tree, engaging in guerrilla warfare all on their own.
"Is that an Apple Match?" I ask as a cool breeze ruffles my hair while I stand near the concrete railing, very glad to not be a part of whatever is happening below. It seems sticky and quite possibly painful. I can't help but wince as an apple takes the head right off a disgruntled Fiery.
Jareth's gloved hands land on either side of mine as his body suddenly cages mine against the sides of the balcony. I stiffen but don't move as my heart rate excellrates. An ambush, I did not expect. It's hard to remember that we only play on the same team occasionally.
"Hmm," he answers enigmatically, his lips very close to my ear. "I didn't like seeing you dance with him. The bastard is a regrettably good dancer."
"Swept me right off my feet," I can't help but say.
"Turn around," he whispers in my ear. A small warmth pulls in my stomach and I seriously consider leaping off the balcony. Instead, I do as he says.
Gloved hands find my waist, lift me from the floor and set me on the stone I was so recently leaning against. Instinctively, I reach for him, knowing there is nothing at my back to save me from a fall.
He has already moved in, ruching up my dress, sliding in between my knees.
"Jareth," I hate to hear the note of panic in my own voice.
"Sarah," his hands are still on my waist, but his lips are on my throat.
Oh what the hell. My fingers sink into his hair as our lips find each other. His kisses are teasing and light. When I lean forward he draws back, setting me off balance, before he strikes again. There is more than one type of war game happening in the Labyrinth this evening.
His hands slid up my ribs while mine tug at the lapels of his coat. My mind has wandered elsewhere as his teeth and tongue drive me crazy. I'm practically purring in his hands and I don't care.
"Sarah?" A whisper soft voice.
I push away from him with such force that were he not holding me, I'd surely be a puddle on the stone courtyard below.
Rachel is standing in the doorway of the balcony, eyes wide.
There's an irredeemable smirk on Jareth's well kissed lips as he steps aside and sets me on my unstable feet. My knees are weak. This is intolerable.
"You won this one," I mutter before collecting whatever dignity I have left and turning to Rachel. "Can you send us home?"
"Oh Sarah, you know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you," he smiles.
Maybe Frost was right. Perhaps I am the one underestimating my opponent in this round.