Love Potion No. 9
Ch. 4
Author's Note: Our beloved Goblin King and Sarah finally meet...more or less. *lol* As always, please leave a review, they help inspire me.
This was a bad idea.
In fact, Sarah was 100% positive that this was a terrible idea. Probably the worst idea she had ever had, with the single exception of wishing Toby away to the goblins in the first place. Yet, despite the knowledge that this was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing she could possibly nonetheless she was going to go through with it. She was going to return to the Underground and face Jareth – in open court no less!
"It's not too late to back out," Jerra suggested, her petite frame curled up on the end of Sarah's bed. The pixie's lavender eyes followed Sarah's movements in the vanity mirror. "I've got a friend who can grant us sanctuary where the Goblin King has no power."
Sarah looked at the glowing vial of green and gold swirled liquid on her desk and shook her head. "Do you trust the friend who gave you the cloaking potion?"
Jerra nodded. "There are few in the Underground with as much power as the one who made it. It will hide your true identity from the High King himself, so it will certainly work on one of his line."
Startled by that revelation, Sarah turned and looked at her friend. "You're kidding, right?"
"No…the potion is strong," Jerra replied, her violet eyes narrowing in confusion.
Shaking her head, Sarah laughed, "No… I meant about Jar…the Goblin King, being related to the High King. He's got to be a bastard, right? How did he get a throne of his own if he isn't legitimate?"
It was Jerra's turn to laugh. "How is it that you've known of the Underground all this time, yet you have no real idea of the culture?! Oberon is notorious for his illegitimate children, he has no legitimate male heirs, as Titania only bore seven daughters. Besides, the Goblin King's throne isn't hereditary in the traditional sense. It is won through solving the riddle of the Labyrinth, without magical power. The Goblin King is the only one of Oberon's line who has attempted such a thing. No one else dared take on the sentient maze. Jar…The Goblin King surprised everyone when he won the right to rule the Labyrinthian Kingdom by beating the maze and solving the true riddle of the land. Some say that he so impressed Oberon with that, that he has become the favored son to be granted the High Throne when Oberon abdicates for the Summerlands."
Sarah blinked, her green eyes wide as she tried to take in all that Jerra had said. She had an excellent imagination, and even she had a difficult time imagining Jareth as the High King of the Underground. All she could picture was Jareth in the tight grey breeches and elaborate leather jacket, leaning over her in the tunnels, his thin lips curled in a supercilious smirk as he purred at her in a voice that made her stomach flutter and swoop with want.
Want? Where the hell did that come from?! She thought irritably, grabbing her hairbrush and jerking it roughly through her hair. I don't want the Goblin King. He's a self-absorbed, arrogant, jerk.
"I can think of no one who would make a worse High King than that petulant, strutting peacock of a Fae," Sarah grumbled, turning back to the mirror and viciously ripping her hairbrush through her hair, the strands snapping and popping with the force.
Confused, Jerra watched her friend, puzzled by the sudden burst of vehemence toward the Goblin King. "I think you'll find that the Goblin King you met is an act, Sarah. Compared to many Kings of the Underground, the Goblin King is viewed as 'odd' because he doesn't follow typical court protocols of rules, fancy dress and such. He can actually be quite generous to those of his subjects who obey his edicts."
"Hah! I find that hard to believe," Sarah muttered, more to herself than Jerra.
Rising from the bed, Jerra stood behind her friend, resting her hands lightly on Sarah's shoulders. "You don't have to do this. Sanctuary is available, just say the word."
With a sigh, Sarah shook her head, then smiled into the mirror at her friend. "No. I may not want to face the pompous peacock, but I'm not going to put your life or mine at risk by ignoring the summons. We'll go. We'll settle the warrant and then I will leave and never return to the Underground."
Jerra felt her stomach sink at Sarah's words. Her Mistress was sure that Sarah was destined to return to the Underground, and it was Jerra's duty to encourage that. Picking up a wooden comb, Jerra began to plait Sarah's hair. Sarah continued talking, describing new products she was making for sale to the citizens of the Goblin City – But Jerra as only half-listening.
She remembered the lazy summer evening when the dark-haired young woman had suddenly appeared in her cottage. Jerra has been relaxing with a cup of tea while processing some herbs for the market, when a loud thump sounded from her armoire. Arming herself with the fireplace poker, Jerra had crept up to the armoire, her heart racing the continued thumps and muttered words coming from inside it. When she flung open the door, a soaking wet Sarah fell out, grumbling, "Well that didn't work as planned." Seeing Jerra pointing the fire iron at her, the girl had given her a sheepish grin and offered her hand in that strange way that Abovegrounders had. "Hi…I'm Sarah. And I'm assuming this isn't Kansas?"
"Kansas? I don't know of that village. This is Goblin Grove, along the southern outskirts of the Goblin City," Jerra replied. "Who are you? And why are you in my armoire?!"
"I'm Underground?" Sarah gasped, her grin growing, as did the puddle of water spreading across Jerra's floor from the dripping clothing of the girl. "Excellent. But this is definitely not Hoggle's cottage…unless you're his girlfriend?"
"Hoggle's girlfriend?! Certainly not," Jerra gasped in horror, then grinned, lowering the fireplace poker and helping the girl up from the floor. "Though I hear he's rather smitten with a red-haired witch named Ylese."
At that point, being a Pixie and therefore naturally curious, Jerra did the only thing could do – she asked the strange wet woman to tea. Jerra couldn't believe that The Sarah was sitting in her kitchen, drinking tea and laughing. From that day on the women had been friends, with Sarah popping into Jerra's cottage several times a week. Then on her 18th birthday, she arrived late at night, in tears because her mirror portal had closed. Discussing it, the two decided that the Goblin King must have realized the mirror portal was still functional and blocked it, trying to keep her from the Underground. That night they decided it would not be safe for Sarah to continue to use the portal. From then on, Jerra used the merchant's portal to the Above to visit Sarah.
"So what do you think?" Sarah asked, her words breaking into Jerra's reverie.
Glancing down, Jerra saw that she had finished plaiting Sarah's hair, neatly pulling it back by running golden cords through the twists. "Um…think…about what?"
"About offering poppets in the shape of chickens? Like I said, the goblins love chickens and chicken dolls are popular with children and goblins alike, so why not make poppets like that?" Sarah said, twisting to look at Jerra and chuckling. "You were a million miles away just now. I'm going to be okay to do this, the question is…are you going to be okay?"
Jerra nodded and settled back down on Sarah's bed, twisting a bit of golden cord from her belt, through her slender fingers. "Yes, I'll be fine once it is all over."
"Then let's get this show on the road," chirped Sarah, hopping up and blithely throwing off her dressing gown. One of the things she had learned early on in hanging out with the Pixie, was that Underground social mores regarding matters of nudity were far more lax than Aboveground. After five years of friendship, she no longer worried about changing clothes around Jerra – there was no need to be shy or reserved in that way.
Sarah picked up pale yellow chemise and pulled it over her head, before stepping into the rust colored kirtle of heavy weight linen. The kirtle was cut low over her bust, and the tight lacing at the back forced her to arch her back slightly, which pushed her breasts upward, allowing a generous portion of creamy flesh to show. Sarah was no prude, she'd gone to parties in nothing but a mini-skirt and corset, but somehow, despite being fully covered, the amount of flesh showing at the top of her dress felt almost indecent - which felt odd to Sarah.
"I don't know why I have to wear so many layers," she sighed, looking at the green overdress with the deep gold sleeves that still had to be put on. "Why can't I wear something simple and comfortable like you?" she asked, eyeing Jerra's long green skirt and flowing peasant styled chemise top covered in embroidered flowers of green, gold and red – the colors of summer.
Laughing, Jerra picked up the green overdress to help Sarah put it on. "I'm a Pixie and a simple caravan peddler. This clothing is appropriate to my station. You are a human and a merchant. You must dress according to your class."
Sarah hurrumphed and tugged at the skirt of the green dress, while Jerra began to work the fastenings at the back. Once upon a time she would have relished the chance to 'play dress-up', but at the moment she just felt restricted. "I suppose the King requires such formality," she sighed, examining the lovely embroidery on the goldenrod colored sleeves, twining vines of deep green and summer poppies of garnet flowing smoothly over the fabric.
"Actually, formal court days are the only time I've ever seen the Goblin King dressed in a manner similar to most other High Fae. Usually he dresses simply, like his people," Jerra replied, slowly walking around Sarah and fluffing out Sarah's skirts. "There, you look lovely. You'll fit right in, once we mask your identity."
Steeling herself, Sarah picked up the vial of glowing potion and uncorked it. She sniffed gingerly and was pleasantly surprised by the scent of mint and roses that drifted from the neck of the crystal vial. "So, I'll be glamoured…kind of like the Jedi mind-trick. 'This is not the Sarah you hate'," she quipped giving Jerra a cheeky grin, only to be faced with a blank look from the Pixie.
"Jedi mind-trick? What Kingdom do these Jedi live in?"
"Nevermind. It's not important," Sarah laughed, then raised the crystal vial, "Slainte` or as us mere mortals say…bottoms up!"
Sarah clenched her eyes tightly as she down the potion, waiting for the inevitable pain or burning sensation that she was sure would accompany such a magical potion. But nothing happens. Waiting, she flicked her tongue over her lips, marveling at the taste - apples and mint, with just a hint of raven's blood spice, a rare Underground herb that was only available in Theraliyn – the city that lay just inside the inner walls of the High Court, at Avalon. As the last hint of hard to get spice faded from her tongue, Sarah couldn't help but wonder just how Jerra had gotten hold of this potion, or more precisely, who she had gotten it from.
Slowly she cracked her eyes and looked at Jerra. "Did it work?" she asked, then registered the somewhat stunned look on her friend's face. "I'm guessing by your expression it did. I'm not a cat am I?" she asked, thinking how awkward it would be to manage sitting on chairs with a tail, although Sir Didiymus seemed to manage fine.
"No…you're…you're a changling…" murmured Jerra in shock.
Spinning toward the mirror Sarah squeaked, "You didn't say that the potion would change my race!" Blinking she tried to reconcile the reflection in the mirror with herself and failed utterly. The woman in the mirror was supernaturally beautiful. The green of Sarah's eyes was intensified until they practically glowed, with one eye vibrant emerald, the other a glittering moss green. Her eyebrows arched steeply above her eyes in the style characteristic of the High Fae in the Underground. Running her fingers over her eyebrows she gasped, "Shit! They'll think I've got royal blood in my line. Shit! Shit….double-shit!"
Jerra patted her shoulder gently. "It will be fine. Remember, High Fae mate with humans regularly, so there are illegitimate changelings all over the Aboveground. If anyone should ask, just say you were put out for adoption and have no idea of your lineage."
"Adopted…yeah… okay. I was adopted. Good," Sarah nodded and muttered to herself. She nibbled her lower lip, marveling at the reflection in the mirror. Her usually slender lips were more plump and reddened naturally. Over her shoulders flowed hair that shifted from ebony to auburn depending on the movement of her body, curled in lazy ringlets, which was a nice change from her usually stick-straight hair. All in all, she looked vaguely like herself, but at the same, nothing like herself.
Glancing at Jerra in the mirror, Sarah frowned. "You've seen me more often than the Goblin King. Would you recognize me if you didn't know it was me?"
Numbly Jerra shook her head.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah straightened up and turned to face the Pixie, her vibrant green eyes narrowing. With a determined air, she picked up the black leather pouch on her dresser and tied it to her belt. "Okay, I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be. Let's do this."
~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~
Despite visiting with her friends often after her adventure, Sarah hadn't set foot inside the gates of the Labyrinth proper or the Goblin City since the fateful night when she (through no fault of her own, she often told herself) left the city in ruins. As she and Jerra joined the throng of petitioners and spectators vying to enter the Goblin Castle for the Lughnasadh Formal Court, Sarah peered curiously around the city, trying to take it all in. Either her memory was faulty or things had changed dramatically in the five years since her run. The old stone buildings of the city were no more; replaced with newer structures, covered in brightly colored shingles and painted cheerful shades of yellow, blue and white. While the city was still rustic, it was also cleaner and brighter. If a city could be 'happy' then it felt like the Goblin City was happy.
The jubilant crowd moved slowly but steadily from the gates of the Goblin City, through the main thoroughfare of the market district, toward the bridge great stone bridge that led over the moat surrounding the castle grounds. With each turn in the path, Sarah was greeted with fascinating sights and sounds. She marveled at the sheer number of pubs in Goblin City, each one with a sign out front proclaiming their status and name. The Black Pullet. Oberon's Beard. Fox and Sword. Dwarven Strumpet and even one that claimed to be called 'Kingy's Knickers' – that one caused her to giggle wildly, much to Jerra's amusement.
"You're in awfully good spirits, considering what is about to happen?" she shouted, trying to be heard over the noise of the crowd.
Sarah merely shrugged and smiled, the happiness of the throng infecting her. Somewhere inside, she heard the quiet inner voice point out that the warmth and joy she felt was likely to be Lughnasagh magic, pulsing through the very land in this magical place. It made sense really. For that moment at least, she had no worries about anything, and only wanted to be carried along by the jubilant celebrations of the city around her. The late afternoon sun was warm as it beat down on the crowded streets of the Goblin City, warming the stones and the people dancing and singing in the streets on their way to the castle.
Turning around another bend in the path, Sarah was dumbstruck to find a large, gloriously flowering public park. A group of musicians, including goblins, dwarves, pixies and at least one Fae-changling played for the throng of subjects as they passed, with members of the crowd happily singing along at the top of their voices. In that instant, Sarah felt as if she were one of the subjects of the land, her voice joining theirs in song.
~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~
As he gazed down upon the singing throng of Goblin Kingdom subjects making their way toward the castle, Jareth smiled. The land was happy and it showed in the joyous sound of its people, a song he wished to join. Sadly, as the King, he had things to do before he could give in to the ancient song now singing within his very body. Jareth lifted his bare hand, turning it over, almost entranced by the twisting lines embedded in his flesh, each line pulsing with amber light in time with his own heartbeat – the heartbeat of the land itself. With each passing minute he could feel the thrum of magic grow stronger, calling him once more to the land. He longed to plunge his hands into the sun-baked sheaves of wheat waiting to be cut as the sun rose on the first day of Lunasa.
Pushing back the feeling of desire to rush to the fields, the Goblin King picked up the fine leather glove sresting upon the balustrade of the balcony and slowly began pulling them onto his hands. Soon his subjects would fill the formal throne room and spill into the castle forecourt. Festival courts were always packed to capacity, with creatures of every race and species. Luckily, the goblins had finally learned that they had to be dressed and chicken-free if they wished to attend holiday courts at the castle. The clothing requirement was tolerated by his minions reasonably well, but they object to the lack of chickens which they seemed to think brought 'festive touch' to anything. As a result, very few of the castle minions attended formal court functions, preferring to hunker down in the military barracks and begin drinking – and quite frankly, Jareth felt things went more smoothly when they were safely away, drinking themselves into a stupor.
A subtle hum rose in the air, followed by a faint crackling sound, Without turning around, Jareth chuckled, "Happy Harvest, Father…and Mother," he said, smoothing his gloves fully over his slender fingers before facing his unexpected guests.
The High King and Queen stood in Jareth's bed chamber, robed in shades of brilliant goldenrod, deep emerald and crimson. Oberon smiled at his son, whose pale blue eyes mirrored his own, stroking his plaited beard and nodding. "A Happy Harvest to you too, my boy," he said, his booming voice sinking into the stone walls of the room, until the very stones seemed to vibrate with the deep tenor.
Jareth lightly kissed the High Queen's hand, "Madame, you are glowing. Don't tell me that I have yet another sister on the way?" he teased, then paused, his eyes wide as Titania merely smiled and patted her stomach in a satisfied way.
"Assuming the given precedent holds, then yes, you should have another sister come Beltane," she laughed, as Oberon hugged her close.
Arching an eyebrow Jareth regarded his father, "And is there a reason that this has been kept secret from both the court and family until now?"
"Come, sit a moment before court, my boy and we will explain," Oberon said, gently guiding his wife to a comfortable chair in Jareth's sitting room.
The queen settled gracefully in the chair, an overstuffed pouffle appearing beneath her feet. Oberon followed her, sinking upon the sofa with a happy sigh, leaving Jareth eyeing them both warily.
"Okay, enough of this happy families routine, Father. Something is up and I would know what it is. You two haven't attended a fire festival in my kingdom since my first sister was born, which suggests that this is no mere social visit, nor simply an errand to share your happy news – not when a messenger could have been sent."
Oberon chuckled, the sound a rumbling purr in his chest. "So suspicious, my boy. But as usual, you are quite astute in your observations. We have not come merely to attend your court or share our news. The quickening of this babe has been difficult for my wife, so we kept our news quiet until we were sure the babe would survive," he said, beaming warmly at his wife, who returned his adoring look with one of her own.
"And what does that have to do with joining me, unannounced I might add, for formal festival court?" Jareth asked, still wary of the High King and Queen's motivations.
"Quite simply, Jareth… we have come to inform you that I have made the final decision regarding who will inherit my throne," Oberon said, his crystalline eyes boring into his son as he waited to see how the boy would react.
Jareth felt his blood burn in his veins for an instant, before chilling him to the core. The heir to the High Court Throne. Ruler of all the Underground and the Avalon Isles. His father had finally decided which of his sons would follow him in rule. For years it had been rumoured that Jareth was the natural choice, he had taken on the Labyrinth challenge and won, where many others had failed before the outer gates had been breeched. Jareth however, had always assumed there was no truth to it, since his father rarely seemed to care what he did – not since he was a child. Rather it was Llywellyn who was heaped with their father's praise and attention.
"So Llywellyn is to inherit," Jareth replied, sounding unimpressed as he tugged slightly at the lace cuff of his cream colored shirt. "I don't know why that required a personal visit, Father…not that I don't like seeing the two of you and sharing in your happy news, but everyone has known for some time that Llywellyn was the favoured son."
Oberon's booming laugh shook the stones of Jareth's chambers, the low tenor teasing against the chiming laughter of Titania.
"Honestly, Jareth," laughed Titania, shaking her head. "If that were true, do you really believe we would have traveled all this way?"
Frowning at the laughter, Jareth glared from Titania to his father, realization slowly dawning on him.
"You can't be serious, Father," the Goblin King began, only to be cut off by a wave of the High King's hand.
"Indeed I am, my boy. I have decided that you shall inherit the throne when I pass to the Summerlands. We will make the official announcement at the Yule ball at High Court, and a special announcement here for the Goblin Kingdom's Yule fire festival. In the meantime, we thought it best that you knew of the plans, so you could reconsider your need of a wife. We should like to see you wed by next summer," the High King said, ignoring the stormy glare his son gave him.
"Father, we've been over this… I cannot wed…" Jareth protested, this time to be cut off by Titania.
"Yes, yes…we are quite aware of your little 'slip up' in giving that Sarah-girl your oath of love, Jareth," Titania said, her violet eyes shimmering sadly. "It is regrettable, but not insurmountable, darling. And while you may not sire a legitimate heir or marry for love, that is of no consequence. You need a companion on the throne."
Jareth felt the joy of the land's magic pulling at him once more, urging him to give in and ignore the anger that was now fighting for dominance within him. Shaking his head, Jareth ran his fingers through his hair until it stood wildly around his face. "I…I have to concentrate on the festival. The land is calling to me already, so I really cannot deal with this issue just now."
"That's fine, my boy. I do understand that you have things that must be done for your festival," his father said gently, his pale eyes gleaming with sadness for a moment. "In truth, Jareth… while many would laugh at the idea of marrying for love over power, I do not. I wish all of my children to find that happiness in their lives. Perhaps this Sarah-girl might yet release you from your oath and at least let you find love."
Inside him, Jareth felt ice seem to settle into the space where his heart had been the moment before. Even his father assumed that Sarah would sooner release him than accept his offer. I was a fool to think that the blasted girl could ever accept me! He hissed inwardly, turning away from his fathers pitying gaze.
"The girl could come to her senses and realize her love for you, Jareth," suggested Titania as she got up, her gentle hand resting upon her stepson's arm.
"As lovely a dream as that might be, Madame, it will not come to pass. Sarah has passed the age of majority in the Above, so her connection to our world was cut-off. She has had no contact with our world or my subjects since that day. I fear she will not find her way to us again before the 'deadline' you have given me," Jareth snapped, his words bitter in both sound and taste.
Patting his arm, Titania gently nudged him, her words soft and tender, "Never lose hope, darling. That is the most powerful magic there is. Without it, even our magic fails."
"Come, Titania…let us take our place in the throne room gallery for the open court. I'm sure the Goblin King has things to prepare before the festivities begin," Oberon said quietly, offering his arm to the High Queen.
Jareth stepped back out onto the balcony with a loud sigh, the joyful thrumming in his blood now dulled by his parent's request and the knowledge that Sarah would never know of his oath to her, or be in a position to accept it. It had been five years. Surely if she were going to find her own path through the mists to the Underground, she would have done so by now and made herself known to her friends.
Frowning, Jareth shook his head, jerking the gloves from his hands to bare them to the warm sunlight as it began its slow descent from the sky. He shut his eyes, blocking out the sadness that threatened to encompass him, as he allowed his magic to flow from his hands, drawing upon the magic of the land in an effort to recapture the joyous feeling of the festival magic that pulsed beneath the land. Slowly he felt the magic start to beat within him again, making the king-making marks upon his body pulse with the heartbeat of the land. He was the King. And as King he was one with the Labyrinth and her land. This was his home in a way no other land could be. Centering himself further, the Goblin King let his mind and magic soar, tasting the sweet summer essence of the very land itself – while the Labyrinth wrapped her magic around her Master to soothe his wounded heart.
~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~
"Who's that?" Sarah muttered in Jerra's ear, while surreptitiously pointing upward toward the gallery at the left of the room. The upper gallery hung over the lower court, providing comfortable seating for those of what had to be noble background. All of the seats had been taken, except two and it was those two that now demanded Sarah's attention.
Peering up, Jerra gasped in awe, as did others in the room at the sight of the white-bearded man and petite blonde Fae now seated in the front row of the royal gallery. "That's the High King and Queen. I haven't known them to ever attend a festival here," she replied, feeling her stomach knot. The last thing she needed was the High King and Queen recognizing the magical signature that now glamoured Sarah – they could ruin everything that she and her Mistress had been working toward.
A loud trumpeting sound kept Sarah from asking any further questions. All around her the spectators and petitioners on the main floor of the court began to bow or curtsey. She felt Jerra tug on her hand, as the Pixie curtseyed low with the others. "Curtsey and don't look any higher than his knees until he is seated," Jerra instructed, her voice a hushed whisper, nearly lost in the rustling of clothing as people showed their respect to the King.
Nodding, Sarah followed suit. Without looking up, she knew the instant the Goblin King entered the room. The air seemed to buzz with electricity which made her blood itch in her veins. Upon the air she smelled a scent she thought she would never experience again, spicy yet earthy. A scent she knew belonged to one being – The Goblin King. From their position along the center aisle of the court, she could hear the sharp click of his boots and the creaking leather of his formal regalia. As he neared them, the scent grew stronger, making Sarah's blood boil within her at the sheer predatory sexuality of it. How can I be the only one that feels this? She thought, fighting down the feeling – but it was no use. With each breath the scent of him threatened to set her aflame or make her faint. Her heart raced in her chest, with each sharp footfall. Then he was there, in front of their bent bodies and she could no longer control her body or her mind.
With a small gasp her legs gave out, dropping her onto the stones of the throne room with such force that she was sure she had cracked bone, the pain making her give a muffled cry. Muffled but still audible, her cry was followed by silence as the footsteps stopped, leaving Sarah cringing as her mind flashing up a Technicolor image of just how awful she must look - on her knees on the floor of the Goblin King's throne room, splayed on the flagstones at such an angle that her forehead nearly touched the floor, her whole body now in the main aisle of the room.
Murmurs and gasps rippled about the room like a wave. "The nerve!...attention seeker… probably a rejected lover….How rude!...She touched the king without permission!"
Sarah felt the sharp pricking of tears springing up under her tightly shut eyelids, as she willed herself not to cry in front of the Goblin King and his whole court.
'ShitshitshitshitfuckmeohshitI'mdeadsodeadhe'llknowit'smefuckmylife! Her mind screamed in a panic. Even in the midst of her panic, the scent of him seemed to seep into every pore of her being, sending a jolt of want into the very heart of her. A miserable whimper seeped past her lips, as a drop of liquid warmth slid slowly from her core. 'OhmyGodsthisisn'thappeningwhatthefuck?! What was I thinking in coming to court?!'
Venturing a peek between her clenched eyelids, Sarah moaned seeing a pair of highly polished boots, right under her nose. Somehow, she had fallen in such a way that she was practically kissing the Goblin King's boots. 'How could this get any worse?!' she screamed inwardly. 'Please let the glamour hold…pleasepleasepleaseplease!' she begged any and all deities that might be listening.
Sarah heard the leather creak further, then the the scent of him crashed down over her, as he bent down. "While I appreciate the sentiment, this really isn't the time or place to do this, Madame," the Goblin King said, his voice an amused purr. "Let me help you."
Swallowing thickly, Sarah cracked her eyelids once more to find a gloved hand nearly touching her nose. She allowed him to wrap her hand in his and stood, wincing when the pain in her knees flared to life. "Um…thank you, Your Majesty," she murmured, trying to ignore the disapproving looks and gossips already wagging their tongue about the strange woman.
~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~
Although it wasn't the first time he'd had a woman throw herself at his feet, it usually happened in private, and was usually precipitated by the Goblin King ending the dalliance or initiating a more 'intimate' game. In all his many years of dealing with the females, this was the first time it had happened during a formal court—as such Jareth was uncertain whether to be irritated or amused. Given the joyful hum of the land, he decided that gracious amusement was the most suitable course, after all it wouldn't have been the first time a woman had fainted in his presence.
Carefully he bent down and extended his hand to woman, momentarily mesmerized by the ebony sheen of her hair, as it shifted from velvet blackness to a purple-tinged brunette. When she grasped his hand he felt the a sudden burst of heat sing through his body, following the twisting lines of his king-making marks. Puzzled, his eyes narrowed as she braced herself with his hand and stood, only to blink in surprise at the familiar face that stood before him – a face that had haunted his dreams.
"Sarah?" he murmured, the thrum of magic rushing through him once more as he looked at her.
"I…I can explain," the woman stammered, trying to free her hand from his.
The Goblin King blinked slowly, willing his racing heart to slow. 'This is not my Sarah,' he thought, then slowly opened his eyes. For an instant he saw Sarah, before her visage shifted into that of a lovely brunette I…I thought you were someone else," he murmured, then noticed the way her face pinched and she winced upon standing. "You're hurt," he said, her hand still wrapped in his gloved fingers.
"It's just a bruise, I'll be fine," she mumbled, trying to pull her hand from his, while her eyes never left his boots. "I'm terribly sorry for disrupting things, Your Majesty."
"Come," he said turning toward the dais with sure steps, his hand firmly grasping that of the strange woman as he led her toward the front of the throne room. "And you too Jerra."
Jerra's eyes flew wide at the King's casual acknowledgment of her presence, but she stumbled along after her King. Reaching the front of the room, the Goblin King waved his hand and two empty chairs appeared next to the chairs filled with lesser nobility along the curved wall that flanked the throne room. "Be seated until your case is called," he ordered, guiding the changeling to a chair and waiting until she was seated before releasing her hand.
Turning on his heel, Jareth made his way up the steps of the dais to his throne and settled into with a nod toward the gathered spectators and petitioners. "You may rise," he said, his voice taking on the ethereal quality usual for those of High Fae rank when addressing their people. "Alesander, call the first petitioner."
Try as he might to keep his mind on the cases being called before the court, his attention kept drifting toward the brunette with the mismatched green eyes. With the dark hair and striking green eyes, he could be forgiven for thinking she was Sarah. Yet the more he studied her, while appearing to be listening to the cases before him, the more Jareth realized that she could not possibly be Sarah. 'She's a changeling…a quite lovely changeling with High Fae blood, obviously,' he mused, watching her out of the corner of his eye. 'But that doesn't explain the way my magic reacted to her touch.'
~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~
Hearing the Goblin King murmur her name, Sarah was sure that she was sprung and would wind up in a dungeon before she could explain. But to hear him turn around and apologize as if he didn't recognize her left her stunned. The last thing she expected was to end up seated with the Goblin Kingdom nobility, much less being escorted to her seat by none other than the king himself. The whole thing was like some sort of surreal nightmare – the only saving grace was that she was fully clothed.
Sarah glanced down quickly, then breathed a sigh of relief to find that she was still clothed in the merchant's dress that Jerra had provided for her. Running her hand over the embroidered panel on the front of her skirt, she heard the quiet murmuring scattered through the throne room and could only imagine the horrible things that would be said about the changeling and the pixie. Sarah held her head up and tried to keep her expression a mask of indifference, but it was difficult when she kept catching glimpses of hateful looks coming from others in the room – primarily women. She tried in vain to block out the embarrassing events and concentrate on observing court, but her mind was unable to focus on anything but the Goblin King and the electric sensation that went through her at his touch.
Rather than continue fighting the desire to look at him, she simply gave into it, tilting her head so that her hair would fall partly over her face to obscure the fact that her eyes were locked on the darkly handsome figure of the King. She watched his every movement, drinking in the sinewy grace with which he gestured in responding to petitioners as if they were the richest of desserts. A slight smile curled her lips when she recognized that he was wearing the same regalia he had been wearing when he had first appeared in her parents' bedroom. Breathing slowly, she closed her eyes for a moment and found that she was almost able to smell the leather even from their seats by the wall.
The court itself was a seemingly endless procession of petitioners seeking the King's justice for various petty complaints. Following the petitioners, four nobles and two kings of various areas were called forward, each escorting a young woman. Sarah nearly choked when the first one presented his daughter as a potential wife for the Goblin King. The girl had a pasty complexion and a somewhat vacant expression. Sarah held her breath, waiting for what she was sure would be a burning insult, yet none came. The Goblin King merely thanked the noble for his offer and turned him down, stating that he was not seeking a wife at this time, and therefore no suits would be considered. Five more times this pattern was repeated – even the princesses presented by their royal fathers were turned down. To say this surprised Sarah would be an understatement. Pursing her lips she surveyed the Goblin King more closely. He really was an ethereally beautiful man. She imagined that he could have his pick of any of the women in any kingdom, if he wanted, yet he seemed to have no interest – at least not in any of the women presented to him.
'He probably has a concubine or something…that's what King's do…' suggested her inner-self, while her libido purred lasciviously. 'Where do we sign up for that job?!'
Lost in her inner debate, she didn't hear the advisor announce Jerra's name, until Jerra stood up, tugging on Sarah's hand.
"Do come forward, ladies," the Goblin King said with slight smile, gesturing toward stairs in front of the throne. "And there is no need to kneel this time," he added with a soft chuckle.
All around the room, spectators and petitioners tittered and laughed, the sound making Sarah's cheeks burn as hotly as the anger rising in her throat. Ignoring the way her face seemed to be glowing, Sarah's eyes narrowed at the Goblin King. Reaching out, she squeezed Jerra's hand as the pair walked toward the Goblin King. Jerra started resolutely at the Goblin King's knees, Sarah kept her eyes on his face. 'I'm not one of his subjects, so I'm not going to let him scare me,' she growled to herself. 'He's a pompous, arrogant, bully.'
Nodding at Jerra, the Goblin King smiled, "I am familiar with Ms. Jerra Evensong and her wares, however you I do not know, madame. Please tell the court your name."
Shit!
All of the preparation they had gone through to protect her identity, and neither Sarah nor Jerra had thought of a name for her. Frantically Sarah's mind churned, keenly aware of the expectant look the Goblin King was giving her.
Arching an eyebrow, his amused look increased, "Has my presence rendered you so speechless that you fail to remember your own name?"
At the sound of laughter in his voice, Sarah's head snapped up further. She wasn't sure whose laughter hurt worse, the Goblin Kings or that of the other spectators. "Charlotte. My name is Charlotte."
The Goblin King smiled and leaned forward, propping his forearms upon his thighs as he regarded her. "You are not one of my subjects, yet you seek a business arrangement with Jerra here and have exported your goods to my kingdom without a warrant from the Crown. You do realize there is a grave punishment for such an act, do you not?"
Refusing to give in to his intimidation, Sarah's gaze never wavered, pinning him with her emerald eyes and nodding. "Such a crime is punishable by time in the dwarven mines."
"Are you not concerned that I will sentence you to such a fate," the Goblin King asked, his lips curling slightly at the flash of fear that crept into the steely brunette's eyes.
Sarah's jaw tightened as she looked at him, unwavering in her gaze. "I would be crazy not be worried that you will do that, Your Majesty. I may be an Abovegrounder, but I have heard the stories of the fearsome Goblin King," she answered, clasping her hands together to keep from twisting them in her panic.
Gasps and murmuring could be heard throughout the throne room at her words. Too late Sarah realized that she had been more terse than she probably should have. The Goblin King however, didn't seem upset by her tone.
"I see. Well then, isn't it lucky for you that this is the Lughnassagh opening court and that one of the traditions of this day, is for me to grant a single pardon of my choosing," he replied, his pale eyes darkening at the fire he saw in her. 'She might not be my Sarah, but she definitely has Sarah's fire,' he mused to himself as he watched her shoulders relax slightly.
Rising from his throne, the Goblin King flipped his cloak back with a sharp snap, looking from the girls before him to the rest of the assembled spectators and citizens. "Let it be known, that I, Jareth mac Aubergon toísech clainne Dagda, King of the Goblins and Master of the Labyrinth, do decree that the charges brought forth against these women on behalf of the Crown be ruled null. Upon the close of the great festival, the ladies will meet with myself and my chief advisor of trade, to create a suitable importation warrant. So say I!"
The throne room erupted in cheering and clapping at the pronouncement of the pardon. Unable to make himself heard over the din, Jareth waited, his hand raised until the chaos died down. "Further to this, as Miss Charlotte is an Abovegrounder and required to remain in the kingdom until the end of the festival, she shall be accorded full right of passage within the Goblin Kingdom for the duration, as well as being placed in guest quarters within the castle," he announced, smiling as the throne room erupted in cheering once more.
Sarah could feel the hateful looks boring into the back of her skull, her mind racing at the implication of Goblin King's announcement. Sure, she'd been pardoned, but the summons said nothing about her having to stay in the Underground until the festival ended at noon on Sunday. She wasn't even sure that the potion would last that long.
"That's a lovely offer but…." She started, only to feel Jerra's nails dig into her palm.
"Yes, it is a most generous and gracious offer, Your Majesty. We would be most honored to accept. Thank you," Jerra replied, her tongue practically tripping over the words in her haste to agree to the offer before Sarah caused further problems by declining.
Sarah glared at Jerra with wide green eyes, her lips pursed into an irritated line. Before she could grab Jerra and demand an explanation, the Goblin King clapped his hands sharply. The sound of his clap echoed loudly throughout the throne room, silencing the throng of spectators and guests.
"And on that note, court is dismissed. The feast will begin in the forecourt and Goblin City park grounds at 7pm. Guests of the court are invited to refresh themselves in their quarters until then. Gealach fómhar sona!" he shouted, his words rewarded with a jubilant cheer from the crowd, before everyone made their way out of the throne room.
Ignoring the jostling crowd, Jareth looked down at the young women before him. With a smile he reached for Sarah's hand and raised it to his lips. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Charlotte."
Unable to help herself, Sarah gasped as a jolt of electric pleasure raced up her arm, her eyes glazing over while the Goblin King gave her a mischevious and positively lascivious smirk.
"Alesander will show you to your rooms. As I am quite sure you were not prepared to stay for the entirety of the festival, suitable clothing and other necessities will be provided for you both. Should you need anything else, simply seek out Alesander and he will see to your needs," he added, his lips wrapping around the last word and caressing it in a way that made Sarah's knees wobble once more, as the scent of the Goblin King threatened to overwhelm her again.
"Um…thank…you…." She whispered, relieved when the Goblin King released her hand, winked at Jerra, then left the throne room.
"If you will follow me, ladies, I will show you to your rooms and leave you to refresh yourselves before the evening's festivities," Alesander said, his words clipped but not unkind. With a smile, the tall, raven haired hobgoblin turned and walked from the room, leaving the two stunned girls staring gape-jawed at each other, then Alesander's retreating back.
"This was a very bad idea," Jerra muttered, grabbing Sarah's hand and hurrying to follow the King's Advisor before he disappeared from view.
"Uh…huh," was all Sarah could manage to say, her mind still trying to reconcile the fact that Jareth had not only kissed her hand, but she had the sneaking suspicion that he was actually flirting with her.
Could this day get any weirder? Demanded her inner-self, while her libido crafted several scenarios in which the day could definitely get weirder and far more pleasurable – all of which involved the Goblin King, his ever-present crop and considerably less clothing than Sarah (and the King) were wearing when they last met.
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