Hurts like Hell Chapter 45, a labyrinth fanfic

Chapter 45. Escape

Jareth from the corner of his eyes witnessed Sarah escaping. Donatien witnessed the flight also from his vantage position. Daisy pretended not to, as she was standing at the side of the Goblin King.

Devon for a moment stared at Jareth, not sure how to react to the statement, "What do you mean if you're not agreeable?" His voice rose slightly louder than he'd planned. "You gave her to me…"

"For a play thing," the haughty remark was made effortlessly.

Bryn turned to Jareth, fire in her eyes and growled. "I'm no one's…. plaything!"

Oberon and his wife began to make their way over to where the commotion was going on. Jareth counted on the chaos and the mayhem, and he knew that attacking Devon and Bryn was calculated, but necessary. "Perhaps I was too hasty in allowing you your boon."

There were no guards on the floor, and Sarah moved swiftly through the corridor then up the stairs to the wing that housed the King's private quarters. Most of the guards it seemed were on duty in the great hall. She expected to find Rondo in the King's quarters, when she didn't she breathed a sigh of relief. Explaining her presence in the King's rooms was not something she'd looked forward to. However as the valet seemed to be somewhere else, she was not going to worry about it.

Her stomach churned loudly as she entered the room and she grabbed her aching midsection. It had been more than half a day since she'd eaten. She felt weak, dizzy and suddenly very nauseas. There was nothing she'd have preferred to do other than sit and let the nausea pass. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light in the King's chamber. She looked toward the nightstand beside the massive bed where he was fond of assaulting her. Her bare feet felt like lead weights as she moved toward the orb that was glowing and active. Hesitantly her hand reached out, she looked about the room, expecting some goblin or Rondo to pounce on her.

Drawing her hand back, Sarah bit her finger nails tensely. She was sure the King would be aware of her absence soon enough. She looked down at the garments he'd ordered her to wear. Rage filled her, how dare he? He had stolen her brother, and then her dreams, and now her self-respect! She ripped the garment from her body, knowing it had been built so that it would part from her upon the King's desire. She wished there were time to wash, but she had only so much time and not one second was to be wasted.

She moved to his armoire, opening it to look inside. His taste in clothes had changed so much since she'd first seen him. Now his dress was severe, ruthless and dangerous, much to her own shame she missed the more romantic garments he'd worn. She missed the man he had been, and the innocent girl she'd been as well. Something in the back of the closet caught her eye; she pushed the harsh dark garments he was using now out of her way. In the back, far from prying eyes was a pair of charcoal gray breeches. She pulled them from the closet and looked at them with watery eyes. He'd worn them in the tunnel, just before stealing time from her. They were slim, and looked as if they'd gotten very little wear. Behind the breeches had been a shirt, a long silky creamy white confection. Sarah pulled it from the closet, looking down she noticed a pair of boots that had been discarded and buried under a fallen cloak.

Sarah took the cloak, the boots, the breeches and the shirt. Wasting no more time, she dressed in the discarded garments of the Goblin King. The boots were a size or two too large and she stuffed some wadded linen into the tips. Once she was fully dressed she wrapped herself in the cloak and snatched the orb from its stand. Holding the glowing little orb close to her heart she closed her eyes for only one moment, as if to ground to the object holding her dreams. She took a deep breath, fighting the dizziness and moved to the door. She moved through the shadows, the orb hidden in the folds of the oversized cloak. She could hear the shouts and chaos from below.

The stairs that lead to the great hall were out of the question she decided. The corridors that lead up was also out of the question, for it would only take her to the Escher room and she had no desire to be caught there again. The shadowy hall led to a stair that seemed to be used only by the servants and it went down. Sarah decided it was the best bet for her freedom, and she moved down holding the cloak so it didn't trip her up.

"Why shouldn't he speak to me on such an important matter?" Oberon found himself challenging his son. "I am High King," he reminded the Goblin King.

"And I'm the Goblin King…" Jareth snapped before looking at Devon. "I asked you once where your loyalty lay… remember?"

Devon, taken aback, gasped for air and words and came up empty on all accounts. Bryn narrowed her gaze, "You asked him to choose between you and the High King?"

Oberon was also taken aback, only his wife's hand stayed him.

Jareth turned to Oberon, "Did you think it was a game? Or does the word sovereignty mean nothing to you?"

"I was wrong," Devon managed to mutter. "I shouldn't have gone to the High King." Bryn looked at him and he said softly. "I shouldn't have discussed my desire to take you as my wife with the High Court… as I've taken Goblin citizenship, my duty was to ask the Goblin King permission to wed."

Jareth would have liked to have let poor Devon off the hook, but he needed a little more time for the distraction to work. "Yes, you should have."

Circe seated beside Tanya murmured to her companion. "I wonder what all the fuss is over."

Tanya shook her head, "I don't really care." She sipped from her wine.

The minstrels had stopped playing; the dancers were no longer spinning about the floor. All eyes were now on the High King, the Goblin King and Devon. Tatiana looked about, aware of the spectacle that they had become. "Perhaps we should take this elsewhere," she suggested quietly.

Cringing on the inside, Jareth cast a haughty look her direction. "I think not," he stated coldly. "We will finish this here." He turned to Devon. "Who is your King?"

Devon swallowed the lump in his throat. "You are," he said at last in a somber tone.

"And the slaves, to whom do they belong?" Jareth looked at Bryn with what he hoped would be perceived as a lusty gaze. Her pulling back and behind Devon told him that if nothing else she understood there was danger here.

"They belong to you," Devon conceded in a dejected tone.

"Who gave this… creature to you?" Jareth demanded coldly.

"Jareth," Oberon hissed.

"You did," Devon answered.

"And if I want her back?"

Devon looked at his cousin, his King and now it would seem his rival. "I would have no… choice but to return her to … you." Bryn's hands dropped from the fabric of Devon's coat, stunned and heartbroken. She took a step back, feeling betrayed. Devon felt her pull back and knew his own heart was breaking.

The room full of guests was murmuring among themselves. Oberon was painfully aware of the subject. He turned to Jareth, "I concede I should have directed him back to you… perhaps it was my own arrogance and pride that prevented me from doing so. You are sovereign of this nation, as your cousin has taken up citizenship here, he should have discussed his desires to wed with you." He was working at being reasonable; "I apologies to the Goblin Throne."

The forced apology brought renewed murmurs from the crowd. Jareth took a moment, allowing the murmurs and the gossips to fester. Silently he prayed to Danu that Devon would forgive him what he was about to do. He stepped toward Bryn, extended a hand and said boldly. "I would have this dance," he didn't bother to address her by name, knowing his intentions were clear. Snapping his fingers, he directed the musicians to begin to play again. He needed more time, Sarah could not have possibly moved beyond the bedchamber. He watched the conflicted young Welsh woman. With a grace that few Fae women could have mustered up, she centered herself, placed her hand in his and followed him to the dance floor. She didn't look into his eyes, and for that mercy he was glad. He was not sure he could carry off the charade had she looked into his eyes.

Devon watched as they danced across the floor. Oberon quietly tried to comfort the young Baron. "This is my fault," he said softly.

"No," Devon rejected the comfort. "This is my fault." He stated firmly. "I was thinking like a Seelie… and I'm not a Seelie any longer." He looked at his uncle and winced at the pain he was causing in the High King's eyes. "I did take an oath," he looked at the pair on the floor. "If he takes her back"

"He won't…" Oberon assured the young man. "He's merely being…"

Sarah heard the music start up again, as she found a passage that lead downward. The passage was dark and the stairs seemed covered with a thick growth of some kind of moss. She pulled the orb from the hidden fold, using the glow to light her way. She was not sure where the path was going to lead. The only thing Sarah Williams was sure of was she was going to get as far away from the castle, the tower and the damned King as she could. The orb in her hands seemed to be getting warmer, as if it recognized her as its one true owner. She wanted nothing more than to find a way to open the blasted thing; she needed to find a method to retrieve the dreams. She was certain that there had to be someone in the Underground who could help her. The moss on the stairs seemed to get thicker, and her feet slipped on the slimy surface.

Jareth pulled Bryn closer, hugging her body close to his. He felt her reluctance, and resistance; she hated this. Jareth had counted on her, counted on Devon, and both had played their parts far better than he could ever have hoped for. He regretted the pain he was causing them, he promised himself to make this right with them when this was finished. Until then he had to keep up pretences. "So you enjoy games of intrigue," he teased her in an ominous and dangerous tone.

Bryn stiffened. "I don't know what you're speaking of." Her tone was brittle, and unmoving.

"He dresses you in a lover's gown," Jareth pulled her closer, the hand at the small of her back slid a bit lower, suggestively.

"Don't," she warned harshly.

"Such fire," muttered the Goblin King, knowing that many eyes were on them waiting to see what he was going to do.

Bryn was becoming aware of the gazes as well. There was something else she seemed to be aware of. Even as the King held her close, he was placing a mental barrier between them. He had obstructions and obstacles keeping her mind at bay. Bryn looked up at him, her lips parted, but she could not speak.

Jareth saw her confusion, and wished with all his heart that he could wipe the bewilderment from her eyes. He waltzed her toward a dark corner of the room, when she became aware of the direction he was traveling in; she halted the dance and pulled free.

"No," she rejected his advance even before he'd touched her. "You have one mortal already; I should think Sarah Williams would be more than enough for you."

Jareth chuckled at her reaction; "Really."

Bryn smoothed her gown, making sure all of the folds were properly closed. "Really," she snapped. "I've had enough dancing for one evening," she announced coldly. "So if you'll excuse me," she began to walk away.

Jareth gripped her upper arm with enough force that he drew a startled gasp from her lips. "You'll follow me to the shadows like a good little girl, or I'll be very public in my exploration of your gown." He growled darkly. He pulled her arm and she unwillingly followed him.

Devon who'd been watching them dance now clenched his fists at his side. "Damn him," he growled as he watched the King pull the girl with red hair into a shadow. "Damn him!" He bolted.

Jareth pushed Bryn to a wall, his lips pressed at her ear he whispered in a sinister way. "Scream." Bryn's eyes popped wide open, and she found herself obeying the suggestion. Her mouth opened and she let out a blood curdling scream.

The next few moments were a blur for Bryn, Jareth had made no other demand, nor had he taken advantage of her in any way. He kept her body pushed up hard against the wall, but made no other advances. A roar filled the air, as hands ripped Jareth away from her. She collapsed to the floor of the great hall, gasping for air. There was a scuffle, and arms and legs flinging about, and angry voices. Then goblins formed a line of defense between the King and his cousin. Jareth dabbed the corner of his lips with the cuff of his jacket. "Take them to the dungeon," he ordered. Bryn was pulled up off the floor by goblin hands, and Devon was dragged away between two very large goblin guards.

Sarah fell, gripping the orb so it would not fall out of her hands. She heard the sound of fabric ripping and knew the cloak had caught on something as she tumbled down the length of the moss covered stairs. Landing in a clump at the bottom of the stairs she was grateful she had not landed with her face in the moss. Down at the base of the stairs the moss was even thicker and was giving off a foul stench, not as bad as the bog, but bad enough. Weakly she picked herself up, held out the orb to try and get some kind of an idea of where the hell she'd landed.

Jareth ignored his father's imploring look, and marched over to where Tanya was seated. "Dance?" he asked impudently, his hand extended expectantly. Tanya blinked, rose to her feet and accepted his request.

Circe glanced about the room, wondering where her father had wandered off to. She sipped her wine and watched the myriad of faces dance by. Oberon and Tatiana looking pained beyond relief, Goblin Lords looking… utterly pleased at the discourse, and Jareth who looked absolutely delighted with the silly little ninny in his arms. Thinking of how hurtful the sight of the King waltzing the Winderspire girl must be, Circe turned to look at Sarah. Her minion Lilith's object of desire and the king's sex slave. A frown furrowed her pretty brow; the mortal girl with dark hair and green eyes was nowhere to be seen. Circe stood up and looked down the table, no Sarah. She moved to where the King had been seated during dinner with still no sign of the mortal slave.

Donatien was conversing with another goblin at the end of the dais, and seeing Circe's expression of confusion he approached. "Is there something amiss?"

"The King's… slave," she answered distractedly. "She was here a few moments ago."

"You have business with the King's slave?" Sade challenged lightly.

Circe glared at the Hobgoblin, "I was going to inspect her garment… I was thinking of having a similar one made for a slave I keep." It was a lie but she didn't think the Hobgoblin was intelligent enough to understand that. "I don't recall the King dismissing the slave," she said boldly.

Master Sade frowned; he looked about the dais and muttered some dark oath under his breath. Angrily he strode out to the dance floor and interrupted the king whispering something in his ear. Jareth, still holding Tanya tightened his jaw.

"Is something wrong?" the girl asked in a breathy voice. Things had been going so nicely for her. She was in the arms of the King and he was perhaps seeing what a perfect Queen she'd make.

"I'm afraid so," Jareth stated with remorse and disappointment. "I fear the rest of our dance will have to wait for another time," he released her hand and stepped back. "With your permission;" He bowed before striding off with the guild master speaking in harsh utterances. The female captain of the Goblin guards followed with a solemn face.

Circe watched the King exit the great hall with his Hobgoblin companion and smiled darkly. Perhaps her little Greek friend had found a way to use the limited magicks left to her. Either that or the mortal slave was more cunning than Circe had imagined.

Sarah found that the passage at the base of the stairs took a long and winding turn to the left. She also noticed that the passage was still going deeper into the grounds beneath the castle. The heels of the barrowed boots made a light little clicking sound on the hand hewed stones beneath her feet. Carved as if it had been scooped out of sand, the tunnel moved this way and that. The sandy walls widened and the roof of the tunnel moved upward. Soon she was moving into a long level space.

A gong sounded as the guards were called to the King. "She's escaped," he roared. "I don't care how!" he tossed the gong mallet aside dramatically. "Stop her!" the Goblin King commanded. "Call out the guard! Don't mill," Jareth told them. "Do something. She must be stopped."

The goblins milled around the chamber, screeching, "Call out the guard!" at each other. As one goblin, they all dashed for the door.

Donatien stood beside the king, one eye watching the reactions in the great hall. He murmured to the King. "They bought it," he sounded amused.

"Of course they did," Jareth muttered under his breath. "I'm a spoiled brat, remember?" He turned toward Captain Bookworm, "I hold you personally responsible," he said for the entire assembly of guests to hear.

Playing her part Daisy bowed her head in submission to her King; "As you should, my king." She backed away when he waved her off.

Turning to the Guild Master he growled. "It would seem her training is incomplete."

Donatien shrugged, "I am use to dealing with the creatures of the Underground my King, I warned you that the slave was not trustworthy."

"I shall beat her within an inch of her life," vowed Jareth before issuing an order. "See to my guests Master Sade, I join the hunt."

"Good hunt Sire," Donatien bowed.

Sarah was now several layers under the castle. The sounds from the party could no longer be heard. She had no idea where she was or how far she'd gotten. She only knew the path was opening and the tunnel wider. She was also aware of a strange rumbling sound that seemed to be coming from the very walls of the tunnel. It was oddly familiar, and disquieting. Looking behind her, she decided there was no reason to turn back. The only way she could go was… forward.