Side Note: I can't seem to add "!" and "?" to the end of my sentences at the same time. It ends up looking like "!" Just in case you were thinking, 'gee, why didn't the author use an exclamation point and question mark instead of just "!'' Well, that is why.
And in case you haven't noticed, the divider lines aren't working. Yeah. Improvising though.
An Offer Given Twice
Chapter Three: Power
Sarah was beginning to feel frustrated with everything. In particular, she was irked with how the universe, in a twisted sense of humor, might be trying to pull her back to the Labyrinth. She had a few choice words to tell Universe, if Sarah ever got the chance to compose a letter of complaint. The girl stood with a wide stance and erect bearing; she knew that body language would help to depict how serious she was. After all, she was an actress. . . more or less. "Will you listen? Please!"
Brendon was kind enough to stop snickering. Five points for him.
"Look, I really, really think we should just follow the schedule—"
The Drama Club President started laughing, "Y-you think we should what? Oh god!" He rolled onto his back, having hysterics so hard, he had to stop and breathe. Sporadically, the heels of his shoes would thump against the stage floor. She watched them mock her and if Sarah could wish—granted, she wasn't going to—she'd blank those things would get eaten. Or maybe tossed off a bridge and into the Bog of Eternal Stench.
Sarah wanted to step on him; the urge was so strong that her leg jerked. But she read the cliff notes: if you want to be taken seriously, use big words and full names. At least, that's what the characters in literature did. "I fail to comprehend anything humorous about this conversation, Brendon K. Connelly."
"Ok ok. . . But since when did you want to follow any schedule I ever made? What is this about, really?" Brendon had this annoying quality in his personality that allowed him to appear understanding. Right until he laughed at you. Sarah suspected that he actually did enjoy listening to other people. He might even care. But he just had to laugh at everything—plight, anger, sadness. . . He completely broke down in his own amusement after he first met Beatrice. He thought she was a riot. To quote, "her very existence humors me," end quote.
Sarah tapped her foot and bit her lip at a new problem. She just acted on a five-second plan; her brain didn't get to the part as to why playing Labyrinth was a bad idea. Aside from the truth, that is. Time to be vague. "I just don't want to, is all."
The stagehands started ignoring the conversation at this point, not believing a word of it. She noticed they went back to their individual works lightly chatting about how weird The Drama Queen is.
Brendon's eyes turned serious, but his voice was quivering with mirth. "You don't want to play the leading lady in Labyrinth?"
She nodded and wondered when he would stop emphasizing the "you" at the her. Brendon pulled himself up and stood in her face, staring; he snatched her wrist and practically dragged her into an empty dressing room. He locked the door.
Ooookay.
The president sighed and sat on an upturned bucket before he addressed her. "Sarah, I'm going to ask you a series of questions. All right?"
The girl crossed her arms, "Go ahead."
"Did your father die?"
"What?" Sarah asked ludicrously. "No!"
"Your dog? Merlin?" he inquired, undaunted.
"He's alive and well," she replied stiffly. She hoped he wouldn't ask about Toby. He was alive and human, of course, but her face might falter with the shame of wishing her brother away to the Goblin City.
'But he's safe now,' she thought, 'and that has to count for something.' She knew the guilt she felt would fade with time because in all honesty—now that she won—who in his-her right mind would regret such an amazing adventure? Sometimes the ends did justify the means. And other times winning was everything; losers never got to see their baby brother again.
"Did anyone die?" Brendon leaned against the door behind him. Having such bad posture, he couldn't sit for very long without a slouch.
Sarah had a feeling she knew where this was going. "No."
"Theft? Rape? Disease? Famine? Osteoporosis? Cancer?" Brendon continued as if he carried around a list in his back pocket: Horrible Things That Could Happen to Sarah Williams. Funny how he had yet to actually guess what really happened.
"No," like a record player, she kept repeating herself.
"Did the evil stepmother finally tire of your company and send you to some godforsaken third-world country?" Brendon opened his arms wide, offering a hug, "You'll be missed."
What? Sarah raised her brow, "Rampant imagination, still no."
For a moment he appeared exasperated until an idea flickered in his eyes; he stood and moved toward her. Brendon's hands rested on each of her shoulders. "Sarah," he began softly, "you know everyone thinks you're going to be a fine actress."
"Just where are you going with this?"
His blue eyes looked kind and spoke hesitantly, "Sarah. . Is it because. . you don't remember your lines?"
"What? WHAT!" She pushed against his grip and jabbed an accusing finger at him, "I recall, Mr. Connelly, that you're the one that has a hard time remembering lines if you don't have three weeks of advance notice."
Of course, she was also angry because he was almost right. She did have a problem with that last line and he probably noticed during the rehearsals. But that was before the real Labyrinth.
Brendon winced, "All right, I deserved that. I'm not trying to pick at you."
"Says the person that just asked if I had cancer."
"Ha ha. . ha?"
Sarah's pride was a careful thing, though not particularly large, it was very sensitive. Normally, it wasn't something to worry about since she was only obsessed with literature and acting. And for the most part, no one was stupid enough to question her about either of the two. "I could play that part with my toes nailed to the stage."
"Prove it," he challenged. The president's smooth transition from tentative question to a daring confrontation would have rung a warning bell if the sane part of Sarah was active. The prideful Sarah was driving now and the consequences be damned.
"The last scene. On the stage. Now." she chewed out.
They both walked out of the dressing room. Well, Sarah stomped. Brendon glided like he was on a cloud, also completely ignoring the consequences of his actions. The president left last because he wanted to grab a wig, crown, and fancy overcoat. He'd let her prove herself and figured that once she did, her love of the Labyrinth would be rekindled. Then maybe he wouldn't have to start all over again with a new play.
Sarah was already waiting for him impatiently, yanking barrettes out of her hair and flinging them at the audience chairs. She was radiating so much will that all the stagehands just scurried off the site to watch from a distance.
'In for a penny, in for a pound,' he thought, mentally gathering his stage charisma and leaping into the role of the Goblin King.
Soon after, Brendon felt like he was in for a ton. He didn't know when she turned from good to amazing, but he was drowning in her spirit. When he looked into her solid green eyes, he truly felt like a cruel Goblin King; he felt uncomfortable and guilty under her truth. She stared upon him imploringly but not without calm insistence, "Give me the child."
Brendon acted the part in return, trying to remain in character despite his awe and confusion. They exchanged more words, and Brendon was beginning to feel trapped, much like the Goblin King must have.
"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered. . ." she began and made a step forward, completely unforgiving of his plight. "I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City."
Brendon knew the script didn't call for him to step backwards, but he needed some distance; he felt too close. Furthermore, Sarah followed his next step with hers. She wasn't quite aggressive, but with each stride, the Pretend Goblin King had to take another retreat. "For my will is as strong as yours—"
God, he was never going to bait Sarah again, "Stop," he whispered, raising his hand to call it off.
Sarah paused; her eyes flickered like she recognized the gesture and the exact moment. She became determined, forgetting that this time, it was just a play and that Brendon wasn't him. She could almost feel his presence on stage, watching, and it only spurred her illusion. Her chin lifted, "And my kingdom's as great."
There was a brief silence and everyone's breath hitched.
"You have no power over me."
- - - - - - DAYLO'S DIVIDING LINE - - - - - -
Jareth's hand jerked momentarily as the crystal he'd been playing with fell to the floor. The shattered pieces spread evenly across the stone of his throne room. 'What the Bog was that?'
"Your Majesty?" the scribe implored timidly.
His blue and brown gaze was sharply looking around every nook and cranny, as if something icky was about to pounce on him.
It should be known that goblins have seven senses instead of the human's basic five. The sixth sense was Insight—a sort of awareness beyond the corporeal—and a seventh known as Trick. Hence the name, Trick was what allowed goblins to do what goblins do best.
A Goblin King's senses were, naturally, heightened and his Insight was screaming in alarm. It was growing more and more urgent with each passing minute and his heart thrashed in a seizing pain. Nothing was physically wrong with him he knew—not that there ever was or ever would be. But his Insight was still ringing in his ears.
He looked to the scribe and motioned for him to come closer.
The goblin obliged. "Yes, my King?"
"Did your Insight sense anything?" What unnerved Jareth was the inability to locate this. . . surge. It if was Souay he was asking, he'd entrust more than an encrypted question, but he sent her out for the day. He knew how much his familiar got twitchy about goblin politics and economy. She got peckish, excuse the pun, around goblins that would invade her master's personal space to whisper about "boring things." Regardless of the fact that she was the one who insisted business before pleasure.
"No, my liege, I sense zilch." The scribe's eyes were darting around now, anxiously hoping to see nothing askew, least he flee in premature panic.
Jareth frowned and considered his strangely pounding heart. . odd since his heart was no longer his own to. . . 'Sarah.'
Something dangerous in Jareth smiled; a natural response whenever a moment of equal intensity arose. "You may leave now."
Without waiting for the scribe to be done excusing himself, the Goblin King pulled the fallen crystal shards to a perfect sphere. 'What are you doing to cause such alarm, my Sarah? Hmmm?'
He searched into the mists of his crystal.
"Stop," a boy whispered from inside. Jareth wanted to laugh at the horrible ensemble of fashion this human wore. He couldn't even begin to list all the problems with that human's crown—
"And my kingdom's as great."
Her beautiful voice soothed Jareth's pain just as much as it thrilled him. If only he could touch her, but if just for one moment, to just touch that fascinating creature. . . Upon comprehending the words from her lips, rather than the lips themselves, he was both curious and mortified. 'The Bog is she doing? Showing every human how she defeated me?'
Goblin King didn't want to watch this anymore. He wanted to break the crystal as he hung on to every precious word. How he had become so addicted so quickly was not something Jareth questioned; even now, while his Sarah was demonstrating to onlookers how she vanquished the Goblin King. He knew and understood and probably hated it all at once. Had it been anyone else playing out his defeat, he would've killed the idiot in a fine rage. But Sarah was different. Sarah was Sarah; a standalone creature with a decree written in the stars just for her.
"You have no power over me."
'Don't I?' Jareth thought, seething and enamored. 'Don't I just. .'
"I have a present for you, beloved," he whispered, watching with interest as he sent a crystal Above. While he waited, knowing the transaction would take a moment, he observed a small crowd give his Sarah a standing ovation. She was blinking in her confusion, as was the boy he just realized was supposed to be him. That was an insulting notion he didn't want to consider in detail.
They were cheering their support, saying how they were glad Sarah had insisted they perform Labyrinth. A muscle in Jareth's jaw twitched. Did she have to insist?
"No! No! You don't understand, that was just for Brendon—I was only proving a point, that's all!" Sarah tried to explain herself, but they weren't listening. He felt her distress, though not in a particularly sympathetic way. Jareth wanted to feel Sarah's delicious weight in his arms and comfort her senseless. He also wanted her distraught for taunting him in the safety of The Above. The space between anger and love blurred and tangled inside his beating heart.
The boy said nothing to confirm or deny anyone's opinions about the play. If anything, he looked off-balance and stricken. The Goblin King wondered what. . . Brad?. . . was to his Sarah. He noticed that the human might be handsome enough to attract a glance or two. This immediately gave reason for Jareth to dislike Brian.
"Listen to me!" Sarah shouted over their appraisal. "We must not play Labyrinth!" she stressed each word with energy and conviction.
"And why not? This is the best acting you've ever done! And it is your favorite book—"
'Is it now?' Jareth grinned. She must have a soft spot for literature. Made sense.
"Because. . because. . ." she was grasping around for something plausible to say, "because Snow White is a far better play. It would not be fair to skip it for a stupid little Labyrinth, right?"
"Stupid. . little. . ?" he mouthed, unbelieving. "Sarah, Sarah, Sarah," he hissed, "you need a lesson in humility."
The crystal should be in place now. The Goblin King smirked his pleasure.
- - - - - - LINE OF DIVISION - - - - - -
Sarah looked to Brendon, "Besides, Brendon did some wonderful modifications to Snow White." The girl hoped that in complimenting the Drama Club President, he'd snap back to attention. Wake up. . wake up. . . "It was foolish of me to—"
What was that movement? A glimmer just past Brendon's right shoulder, near the end of the stage where the red curtain bunches. "To—ah, to. . ." It was bright yet elusive, and she stared all the harder, unable to look away. "To. . ."
It couldn't be a hallucination because it was obviously solid enough to move the curtain aside. She thought it might be a human figure and squinted her eyes. Then the stranger's face was illuminated with a strange light.
Jareth's face. Shit.
Sarah, a naturally calm and level-headed being in the face of unexpected terror, cried out in panic. She stumbled backwards and fell to the hard floor. 'He can't be here,' her mind raced, 'He can't. I didn't wish for anything!'
His eyes were looking right into her soul and glowed with an eerie greed. She could feel her body shaking underneath his anger. His lips held a demon's curve as he mouthed out a message. Her ears strained to hear him, the tiniest whisper, but she was too afraid to listen. Her entire body was straining to run away, trapped under his blue and brown gaze.
"Sarah? Sarah!" Brendon's hands were on her shoulders again, shaking her. He blocked her view of the Goblin King, but the image was already in her mind, branded into her memory. Jareth would haunt her forever, she knew that much. Her mouth moved in time with his quiet words.
I have no power over whom?
End of Chapter
Thank you all for reading!
Dear. . . . . .
Anij: Haha, yeah, I had that problem with names last time. There was a definite sense of barrage going on; though I appreciated their reviews anyway. Speaking of, thanks for yours since it's the only one I've got. I think I'm going to read the book just to get a better insight into the story.
I just realized my mistake in summary when you gave me KUDOS; it was an idea to have Sarah wished down again but then. . . yeah, I changed my mind. I wanted to have fun with Jareth coming up; it'll create more opportunities. Yeah, I did my best to show how different a Jareth Chapter would be compared to a Sarah Chapter because I want readers to get a feel how different their entire worlds are. The next is another Jareth Chapter.
. . . do you think I went too far on the OMG-ness? I thought that was a common adage among the fellow teenage populace. Though it did create the new image effect. Ah well, too late now.