Grüempy waits out the stunned silence as Sarah's mouth opens and closes wordlessly. He could almost feel sorry for her, but quite frankly after the exhausting amount of babysitting he'd been subjected to, he was finding her shock a welcome change from her fiery temper.
"Did he?" He prompts, shuffling in his crevice, smirking a little. It was a calculated risk to push her, to push either of them really, they were so much more alike than they realised, but if she wasn't going to figure it out on her own the point had to be made.
Sarah snaps out of her dumbfounded silence.
"It was implied!"
Grüempy t'sks.
"His kind don't do implied threats. They do threats. Rather terminal ones most of the time."
"Then WHY DID I GO THROUGH ALL THIS?!" Her voice ricochets around the empty ballroom, making the air sing with vibrations. What minimal glassware is left intact seems to shiver from the echo, but Grumpy doesn't even flinch. His eyes turn just south of stony.
"Ya asked for it din'cha?"
Sarah's face drains a sickly white with rage. He was blaming her for this nightmarish gauntlet? "How DARE you-"
"-No, I mean you lit'rally asked for it." It's hard to make the harsh tones of his scratchy voice sound solemn so he leans further out of the crevice so she can see his face. "You set tha wager, not 'im."
In the grim half-light of the abandoned ballroom Grüempy's face takes on a far more ghoulish quality, looking more like a living gargoyle as he leans out of the stone. Small as he is, the light from the window glints over disturbingly keen teeth, minimal though they are. Sunken eyes and sharp nails.
If Sarah could arrange her thoughts out of its fractal bewilderment she'd muse on how even the most harmless looking parts of this place could turn on a dime. Even the little things are dangerous.
"He said he would take me back." She croaks out eventually. "I didn't have a choice! He said no wasn't an option!"
"Yer well." Grüempy sniffs wetly, as if the conversation was starting to bore him. "You shoulda probly of thanked 'im fer that."
"What!?"
"Yer went an' ate that peach. Without keepin' a foothold here you'da promptly gone mad an all. Goblin fruit. It'sa kicker, eh?"
She'd read a few stories as a teenager about not eating the food. The rules were specific. Very, very specific. The Biggest Rule: Don't eat the food. And yet that little nugget of advice had tumbled out of her head when Hoggle offered her the peach. Because she hadn't honestly taken this place seriously. Not really. Hadn't given it more than a bad dream's due.
But underworld or underground, goblins or gods, the stories were clear. Those stories were now sitting heavy in her mind. And the consequences...
How no food would satisfy.
How she'd be trapped between two worlds. Forever.
He'd said she'd gotten by so far on the wager's sufferance. Maybe demanding to take her back, if only temporarily... had he thought to offset the curse of it? To mete out the punishment for succumbing to the first rule by appointing her a royal visitor? Was she supposed to play Persephone to his Hades?
Why give her the peach in the first place then if he knew how it would snare her?
Or was that the point? A little prompt to keep her coming back? Maybe nothing more ensnaring than a standing invitation she was obligated to accept every so often.
I could do that!
I could've done that!
"So... so..." Sarah stutters, forming the question around tumbling thoughts. Thinking quickly, tallying it all up. Hope skyrocketing. "I could've left? Just like that? And if I lose now, I can still leave?-"
"Oh uh, uh." Grüempy grins a little too widely, and there were those flashing teeth again, like jagged pieces of glass sticking up from fleshy gums. "You were the one who said she would stay. Stay means stay. Yer really outta pay better attenshun to watcha say around folks like 'im. You set the limits, luv. He jus' been trying to getcha outta 'em."
Grüempy waits for a response but none is forthcoming, the words trapped in Sarah's throat. He clears his own. "Anyway-" he leans out of the hole, crosses his arms on the edge of the stone, and looks out of the broken window to the castle. "Recon you probly got a good half hour left. Been lovely chattin' an' all."
There's a hard scrabbling sound as he wriggles back inside the crevice, scratching little claws scuttling inside the ornate brickwork overhead, and then nothing but silence.
Sarah barely processes his departure, still seated near the expansive window, feeling sucker punched as her thoughts try and realign.
I could've left. He didn't tell me I could've left.
I...
I didn't ask...
She sees it all now. She'd let the memories of this place drift out of her consciousness but she was tied to it inexorably.
And Toby... had he eaten anything here? Was he trapped like her-
Stupid- she admonishes herself. He'd been nothing but a baby. Nearly 13 hours here... he must've been fed something.
Another chilling piece of the puzzle slots into place. She'd gotten by on a wager's sufferance, but Toby hadn't.
That first year before she'd wished him away he'd just started eating solids. And after their triumphant return he'd suddenly and disastrously gone off his food. At first Karen had been exasperated. Then panicky. They'd taken him to doctors appointments, child nutritionist, diet consultants. Had his stomach and bowel examined with ultrasounds, gone dairy and gluten free and still he'd barely eaten.
Until... until-
An unremarkable day. Another unsuccessful morning trying to get a tearful Toby to eat. He had loved playing with his own reflection in a handheld mirror. Thinking to distract him for an hour or two Karen had manoeuvred a large full length mirror into his play pen, laid it carefully on the floor so he could sit on it, pawing at his mirror image with pudgy fingers. The doorbell rang, she'd been away for less than a minute...
It had all changed. Back on his food in the blink of an eye. No one could explain it, but you don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
Jareth saved him.
The truth of it hit her like a sledgehammer.
She'd condemned him, and he'd saved him.
A sudden gust of wind blows in through the shattered window, ruffles her skirts, and casts aside the heavy curtain adorning the stonework. Her stomach sinks.
Another door.
God, not another door. No more doors, please.
I'd rather have those manic stairs than another damn door.
Her hands sink into her hair, deep into the tangles.
No more just no more...
She sits across from it, stewing, waiting for her feet to listen to her and start moving.
The extravagant dress detracts a little from her hair, still tangled, and the bruises starting to blossom on her back and arms, marrying with the marks he's left on her neck.
Everything hurts. Her feet. Her back. Hands, arms... lips... every part of her sore to the bone.
More than that though the thought of confronting him is physically painful.
She picks at the embroidery on her dress as she fights off tears.
Maybe Jareth had saved Toby, and maybe he'd had her best interests at heart through this ordeal...
He still gave you that peach though. Don't forget what he is.
Don't forget what this place can turn into.
She eyes the door, chewing a fingernail down to the quick. She can feel the ticking clock in her blood now, not just in her ears. A twitch under the skin like a second pulse.
The hours have evaporated leaving nothing but the dwindling minutes. Sarah swallows, feeling an acidic ache around her chest. She wants to leave. Of course she wants to leave. She has Toby, and her family. Her friends...
No boyfriend. No-one even on the horizon. She'd been gearing herself up to give David another shot but that couldn't work now. Not knowing who she was waking up from.
I'll find someone. I'll forget this place. I'll move on. I can do that.
You haven't managed to yet- says a nasty little voice underneath her internal pep talk. But none of it will matter if you stay here wallowing in this stupid broken ballroom, waiting for the decision to be made for you.
She digs the heel of her hand hard into her eye. I'm not gonna cry. I'm just... I just gotta get up. Come on... come on feet.
She takes a deep hard breath, bones creaking as she stands on aching legs as she manoeuvres over broken furniture and shattered glass.
The door is warm, like pavement on a hot day. The stone under her hand oddly welcoming.
Guess I'm finally taking the way he wants...
She pushes, and it gives easily, smoothly, opening onto a beautiful rolling pavilion. Different in every aspect from the goblin littered corridors. The castle looms, the sun setting faster, edging the garden into a deep purple twilight, extending the shadows over the eternal twists and turns of the Labyrinth down below, deep gold and burning reds plunging into darkness. The air is warm, scented like saffron and lavender. Her boots crunch over the gravel of the paved garden, lined with heather and wildflowers.
It's wonderful. Beauty unrivalled.
"Don't make this harder, Jareth." She mumbles. Holding her breath, waiting to see if he'll be summoned, appearing by her side out of thin air.
He doesn't.
"She's onner way." Grüempy hoiks himself up from the floor onto the arm of the throne, perching carefully away from Jareth's knee. He's sitting languidly, one leg stretched out, the other propped on the edge of the seat as he leans against the opposite side of the throne. Despite the relaxed stance Grüempy can feel the tension pouring off him in waves and isn't about to make the mistake of getting too close. The unnatural stillness has teeth to it.
He waits for some sort of reaction, but none is forthcoming.
"...thought you was gonna meet her in ther ballroom?" He asks cautiously, ready to jump back down to the floor if Jareth's burning gaze swings his way. Jareth's eyes however don't leave the throne room's door. Not even to check the time that has dwindled down to the last few minutes.
"Yer left it in quite ther state?" Grüempy probes. "Thought you was... y'know... plannin' on makin' it a bit more welcomin' like?"
Finally signs of life underneath his statuesque repose. A slight twitch of his upper lip.
"She wouldn't have wanted that." He says, bitterly.
"Mm." Agrees Grüempy. "She's got quite a fing against it being nice an' easy, don' she?" He chuckles awkwardly, trying to plant a little levity but it withers and dies.
Jareth sighs in agreement, his eyes finally leaving the door as he digs a gloved thumb into an eye socket, pinching the bridge of his nose.
The multitude of goblins around them have been continuing their usual jostling and bizarre merriment, and though it doesn't stop, the volume of it seems to dampen. Eyes trained carefully away from their king.
Grüempy swallows, shifting uneasily on his perch.
"You ain't givin' up, are ya?"
There's a slight bob to Jareth's throat before he gets up out of his throne, making his way over to an alcove lined with bottles out of reach of goblin hands. He uncorks one, filling the room with the scent of peach wine as he pours himself a glass and downs it. Refills it.
Grüempy watches him with a sliding eye, but there's a commotion amongst the goblins leaning out of the window. A flutter of excitement and he can guess at what.
"Yer can't give up now. She's comin' around."
"I'm not giving up." He shrugs off Sarah's jacket, passing his glass from one hand to the other as he gracefully peels out of the leather, depositing it on top of a small pile of goblins. He swirls his wine, looking into its depths. "I'm just letting her go."
Grüempy's watery eyes flicker to the enormous clock on the wall. Two minutes.
This is it. Grüempy can practically feel her in the castle. The walls seem to almost shimmer with tension, and as distractible as the goblins around them are, there's a slight hush falling to some of the more awake ones. Bulbous, wicked eyes flickering towards the door. Ears pricking up.
Jareth slumps down again, long gloved fingers lightly clasping the rim of the glass over the arm of the throne. He hasn't noticed the ripple of energy moving from goblin to goblin, as he leans his head back, closing his eyes.
Grüempy bites his lip- a strange picture with only a smattering of teeth.
A miserable Jareth isn't going to win it all. Sarah needs a fight so that she can at least feel like she won a little bit. Neither one of them will settle for feeling pandered to.
She doesn't abide begging.
…Or sulking.
God, I'm gonna get bogged an' all...
Rather that than an eternity of the bad bad week...
"Oh well." Grüempy huffs from his seat, braver than he feels. "Jus' lettin' 'er go eh? Oh well then as long as yer jus' doin' that. Five years of pinin' down the drains an' her all but akshally softenin' up a bit an' whatnot but alrigh' fine, yer jus' lettin' her go. Pfft."
Several goblins at the base of the throne, careful not to make eye contact with Grüempy, move casually away from him. Meandering subtly, as if actually there was just something over there on the other side of the room near the exit that was far more interesting, not rushing at all, tra la la-
A crowd of goblins with their ears pressed against the wood of the throne room door burst into a babble of excited croaks and whispers, but Jareth doesn't notice. His fiery mismatched eyes have instead slid to Grüempy, who desperately tries to hide the gulp in his throat. Those eyes, lit the way they are from the inside out, it would be difficult for even the biggest goblin not to feel like a mouse in a field watching an owl descend. About to sink its talons straight into his guts.
"I mean- pfft, yeah." Grüempy continues, "let her go then. More trouble'n she's worth." He licks his lips, feeling like he's about to take a nose dive into the bog, praying for the bog and nothing worse, eyes flitting to the clock. Thirty seconds. "Far too much of a challenge tha' one. Righ' bad tempered anyway-'' He leans back as Jareth leans in, until he's practically horizontal over the edge of the throne, clawed feet and hands digging into the wood of the throne. "Bit on the short side, really…"
Jareth's eyes narrow, murderously.
"Say that again."
Grüempy opens his mouth, readying himself for another suicidal volley, and is mercifully saved.
The throne doors burst open, sending a couple of goblins sliding across the floor with a yelp, and Jareth's head snaps to meet Sarah's.
She looks glorious. And furious.
And dishevelled beyond belief in a sublimely feral way.
Grüempy catches himself thinking that if ever there was going to be a Goblin Queen it had to be her. No one else would fit.
The ticking stops, ten seconds left, and Grüempy takes his first breath in for what feels like five years easy.
She notes it, regally flicking a speck of dust off her dress, casting a glance around the thousands of goblin eyes.
The heat in Jareth's eyes shifts focus.
"Everyone out." He says quietly. In a flurry every goblin is lurching over one another to the door, clambering past Sarah in a hairy, wart covered wave. Grüempy hops off the throne and disappears under a tile, it's clacking shut the last noise in the icy silence.
Jareth straightens his back, raising the glass to his lips.
"You look beautiful Sarah." His eyes roam possessively over her. "A tad over dressed. I hope not just for my benefit?"
She stays leaning against the doorway, refusing to move further in.
"Don't you have anything better to do than kidnap women, Jareth?" Sarah raises a withering eyebrow. "I'm sure it's difficult finding a potential mate in this hellhole but this was an ordeal I'd prefer to avoid a third performance of."
He leans back further into his throne, the very epitome of nonchalance.
"Still playing this game are we?" He t'sks, taking a sip from his glass. "Ever the victim. How maudlin. I'll happily tie you back up sweetheart, you need only ask."
A sudden dip to Sarah's silhouette in the doorway and he narrowly manages to bat away a goblin helmet, bowled at his head, out of the air. Fierce eyes find hers, catching his breath at the thought that she'd nearly brained him.
"This isn't a game." She snarls. "I'm going home! We're done. It. Is. Over!"
"Stop summoning me then." He growls back, setting his glass aside. "I'm just as bored by this ongoing charade when the fact is you've enjoyed being watched, and taunted, as long as it's by my hand. Believe me if I could leave you alone I would, if only you'd release me."
She blinks wordlessly for a heartbeat. "I'm supposed to release you?!"
His microscopic patience snaps in half.
"The Goblin King had fallen in love with the girl?" He sneers, and Sarah recoils from his venomous tone. "Don't you realise what you said? Don't you realise WHAT YOU DID?! You trapped me, Sarah." He rises out of the throne and Sarah takes a slight step back as he advances. "Bound me with your words, and for WHAT?!" He towers over her, backing her up against a wall. "So I could be your plaything? Your toy? A villain for you to play dress up with and then discard as if I meant NOTHING to you?" He catches his breath as his words echo around the room, pulling the fury back into a cage. "I forgave you for all of it. You were young, and naive, but you are neither now."
Her eyes are fire, rage matching his. Power pouring off her in waves. Despite himself, despite it all, Jareth flinches slightly under the onslaught of such a look.
Sarah's eyes don't leave his.
It all fell into place.
The words he'd spoken. Words were different here. It had taken her so long to understand that. They could bind you completely, they could capture you entirely. They weren't just sweet whispered nothings, or pleading love devotions, they were spells in and of themselves that could be wielded like a weapon.
And what little power he had over her had been given over completely. When she'd said he had no power over her, that was an unbreakable command that he could never breach. She'd insisted on a wager that she didn't need to, and half mad with desperation he'd attempted to drag her back.
Because he was her plaything. Her toy. And without her he was lost, aching for her the way Toby had for goblin food in his weeks long starvation, withering to nothing.
"You forgave me? For wielding the power you handed me in the first place? Am I supposed to feel some sort of remorse here?"
Her voice is cold. To her satisfaction Jareth's haughty exterior cracks slightly.
"Sarah-"
"Stop." She commands, and his mouth shuts. His jaw flexing in a bitten back rebellion.
Longing eyes trail over her. Angry, but not just angry. Starved and bruised too.
"Why the peach, Jareth?"
His jaw tightens, preparing for the next fight, pressing a hand into the stone next to her head.
"I wanted you to stay." He replies, quietly, matching her tone, trying to step down from the bitter words poisoning the air.
"As a prisoner?" She asks, refusing to let him mollify her.
He huffs at the accusation. "If I wanted that I could've left you in the oubliette. Both times."
"As what then?"
He cocks an eyebrow and she pushes herself harder into the wall.
"You cannot truly be that obtuse?" He reaches for her hand and she snatches it out of his grasp.
"If you wanted me to win this thing, why drag me back in the first place? Why even bring me here the first time?!"
"There. Are. Rules!" He growls, exasperated beyond words. "You wished away your brother, I was obliged to take him. The only way to undo that was for you to run the Labyrinth, I didn't decide that on a whim!"
"Why trap me with the peach then?! You... you could've let me go after!"
"I wanted you to stay! Why won't you listen?! I want you here!" He takes a breath. "I didn't… I didn't want you to forget me. Forget this. All this." Owlish eyes meet hers, pleadingly. "You aren't the only one to run this Labyrinth. But you are the onlyone to remember it."
She can barely find the breath for her next words. Can feel tears stinging the corners of her eyes.
"That is spectacularly selfish of you."
"Wish for me to be different. Say you don't want that from me and I will obey." Gloved hands cup her face and she allows it, letting him tilt her head back so their eyes meet. "You have my name, I strayed off the path the first moment I let you call me." He runs a thumb across her lip and she can feel the moment her eyes turn wide as her pupils dilate. "Tasted you too now. I seem to make nothing but missteps with you."
She pulls back out of his hands as he leans in closer, just as his lips graze hers.
"A misstep? Is that what you call it?" She hisses. "You tricked me. With your stupid peach and your half truths. You said you'd take me back but you never said I would've been free to leave."
"I was angry-"
"Angry?! For what?!"
"You weren't supposed to say 'No'!" He doesn't shout but the words bounce and echo around the room with a mind of their own. "I offered you everything. EVERYTHING you wanted and you said no!"
She doesn't flinch, but meets his furious glare with her own. Underneath his anger is a begrudging feeling of pride. No one else could frustrate him like she could. No one else would be brave enough.
"I'm going home, Jareth."
Her words stopper his thoughts, pulling him out of his admiration, turning his stomach to ice. His facade slips, and Sarah finds herself breathless at the heartbreak writ across his face.
"I can't stay." She doesn't intend to console him, but her voice softens a little regardless. "Toby… my family-"
"Would you-," he bites his cheek hard, sucking air into his lungs. "Would you have? If…"
She doesn't answer, letting the question hang in the air. His cheek twitches in recognition that she isn't going to indulge his curiosity. It would only hurt them both. The silence stretches between them achingly. He folds a sheaf of her hair back over her shoulder, tracing the marks he's left in her skin, taking solace in the slight shiver his touch causes.
A sudden thought, a glimmer of a plan coming together…
"One last lesson to learn then." He sighs, leaning in towards her. "Don't accept a gift if you're not prepared to reciprocate." He strokes the back of his hand down over her skirt. He reaches for her hand again and this time she lets him, though she curls her hand shut as he tries to lace his fingers with hers. He settles for holding her lightly by the wrist. "Unless you're intending to return it."
She rolls her eyes but doesn't move away.
"I didn't have a choice."
"You always, always have a choice poppet." He replies and she can all but taste the regret in the air. "Though I do agree you have chosen exceptionally poorly throughout." His hand leaves her wrist and trails to her waist, curling over the jut of her hip and squeezes. "From your perspective at least. I can't say I regretted any of it."
The unspoken challenge curls between them like smoke. The hand on her waist travels up to her shoulder, long fingers ghosting over her collarbone, to the neckline of the dress, curling under the lip of the fabric. An ounce of pressure, threatening to take it off her, and she stops him with a hand on his wrist.
"Fine." She bristles, wanting desperately to end this quickly as her resolve seems to be dissolving faster than she cares to admit. Despite her protests she recognises that yes, he had in fact, been rather generous. And though it stings to admit it, her numerous mistakes seemingly aren't being held against her. Maybe she could be generous in return. "Name it, Jareth."
His brow raises, somewhat stunned by her compliance. Lust filled eyes study her, the thoughts in his head practically audible. But in her gut, strangely, is the knowledge that he won't ask for something she wouldn't want to give.
He smiles a tight lipped smile as he pretends to ponder. So many choices…
He could take her name. Take it and keep it, with that delicious peppermint taste lingering on his tongue forever. Wouldn't that be wonderful...
Her first born maybe. Now there's a thought. A classic fae curse but a standard. And how easy it would be to warp the wording just right, her only chance to have a child with him alone…
But he knows what he wants. It's selfish. And manipulative. He doesn't care, and he's all but certain she won't either. It'll be worth it to play the long game a bit further. Maybe she'll hate him for it but the possibility that she won't is tempting beyond words.
He traces a gloved forefinger over the bite still swollen underneath her lower lip. The punctures from his teeth stopped bleeding hours ago but a soft mauve bruise colors her lip.
"I want your kiss Sarah."
A moment's silence from her. She pulls back a little to check his expression. She'd expected something significantly less… innocent.
"That's it?"
He grins, amused that after all the many lessons, all the tricks and turns she's been subjected to, she's still naive enough that she doesn't ask for further clarification.
"That's it."
She raises an eyebrow.
"No biting."
A flash of his teeth set in a wicked smile makes her stomach knot.
"Not unless I'm commanded to."