Chapter Six
Travel Advisory
Nausea twisted Sarah's stomach the moment the library door clicked shut behind Jareth. Beads of sweat rolled down her face. Tak appeared just moments later, a pudgy hand warm against Sarah's pale wrist. Despite the goblin's bubbly nature and excited smile, she seemed to sense enough to stay quiet. Sarah wondered whether Tak knew to retrieve her charge or that she was summoned.
Back in her room and swiftly tucked back to bed, a quick flush of fever tightened Sarah's cheeks. A damp towel cooled her face. Her scalp ached as she furrowed her brow. Her toes curled as her calves cramped.
"What's happening?" Sarah moaned.
"Sometimes his Majesty's magics blocks things," Tak squeaked. "Floodgates, Miss Sarah."
Of course, Sarah bitterly thought to herself. It explained the onslaught of malaise immediately following his exit, when she was only mildly aware of it before.
"What's next? Why did he want to talk to me?"
For the most part, Tak ignored Sarah's underlying plea. "His Majesty is not tellings me much, Miss Sarah. It's not my job to knows about his Majesty's business. I just knows what he can do." She patted down the blankets over Sarah's shoulders.
A corner of Sarah's mouth upturned slightly at the gesture. She couldn't recall the last time she had been tucked into bed. That it happened in the land ruled by a monarch who used dreams as currency wasn't lost on her.
Sarah didn't press any further, and Tak offered nothing. She scuttled around the room one last time before slipping out the door. Sarah missed her presence immediately. Despite Tak's rambunctiousness, she was a comfort and a dose of familiarity, a reminder of the labyrinth that Sarah knew versus what she experienced now.
Hours ticked by. Sarah's eyelids grew heavier. The joyous shrieks of the goblin babes and the cries of their worried mothers faded as the sun fell and the wind picked up. Branches clacked against each other and icicles tinkled.
Sarah lied on the bed, unblinking. She curled up under the covers the moment she arrived back in the room, her back to the door. Someone wordlessly shuffled in at some point. A muted clink of a metal tray set on the wood table with care: dinner. She stared at the fire and didn't move. The food's scent wafted to her, savory and delicious, but she could not work up the energy beyond her nausea.
Exhaustion weighed her down, sinking her further into the bedding. It pulled on her shoulders and hips. She could not have even kicked the blankets.
The fire continued to crackle, a chatty conversation between thermodynamics and wood. Sarah heard the stoic familiarity of science reason in low booms as the wood cracked from within, countered by high squeaks and pops where moisture evaporated in quick succession.
A clock ticked in the background, but she didn't remember a clock in the room. It was subtle, quiet, she willed her heart to slow in time and sync with its chimes. The ticking reminded her of the pregnant moments in childhood, awaiting her father's final ruling on her punishment for the latest transgression. She was in a chair in the kitchen and tall shadows towered over her, tears dripping with every other tick of the clock. And then she was standing in front of her vanity, red splattered all over the mirror. A snake writhed in her sticky hands, spasming and half-heartedly hissing. Sarah stared down her reflection, her eyes dull, but she clenched her jaw to abate the raging hatred inside her.
Her claws squeezed and strangled the snake. Growls thundered and shook the walls. They rumbled, and a tiny corner near her closet fell, revealing the dewy and damp forest. A worry flitted through her mind: Sarah couldn't understand why the growling sounded like neither Jareth nor Cassius.
She still felt the snake slithering and writhing in her hands as the sun peeked into the room, frigid and desperate for resolution.
Without any way of knowing the time beyond watching the shadows from the trees like a sundial, and given that the light was dim at best when the chambermaid burst in, Sarah swiftly deduced that it was rather early in the morning. Her next clue was Tak yanking on the hem of Sarah's nightgown with surprising strength, deftly pulling her charge upright.
Though she felt marginally better, Sarah's stomach still churned at the swift change in orientation. Glibly, Sarah thought she would have to get used to the sensation eventually, and then blanched when she realized the implication of her own words.
"Up, up! Time to wakeys miss Sarah lady!" Sarah had no doubt that Tak was a morning person.
"Tak," she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "What the hell is going on?"
She didn't fight as Tak repeated much of the same routine as the day before: unlace the gown, lift it up, and scramble around with fistfuls of various clothes.
Tak pushed Sarah over around the armoire. She opened a side panel, revealing a mirror.
Sarah recalled the last time she looked in a mirror. It felt like ages, but it had just been days before, at the house party. Even then in the dim light of the bathroom, her hair had been lank and dull, and the shadows enhanced the circles under her eyes. The circles and ashen skin remained, but Sarah couldn't mistake the deep richness of her hair or vibrancy in her eyes for a trick of the light.
Tak swept Sarah's hair away and secured it before she could examine it. The distraction dragged her gaze down to the rest of her image in the mirror.
Dark breeches and thick leather boots.
Sarah wondered why the outfit was so different from yesterday's gown. She turned to Tak, to inquire about the purpose of the clothes, but the goblin was already scooting out the door.
"Yous stays here, miss Sarah lady!"
Sarah stood dumbfounded and stared at the door. She blinked, still bleary despite the activity of the morning. Now left with nothing to do or any instruction—or any idea what was going on—idle hands itched.
"I need coffee."
As soon as she uttered the words, something clinked behind her on the nightstand. A carafe of steaming black coffee, flanked with fresh cream and a plate of baked goods had appeared, next to the forgotten dinner.
In the past, her younger self would be wary. Food still steaming fresh hours after it was served? Appearing out of nowhere? She knew better, but even last time, undeniable hunger had driven her to forego precautions.
She dug in.
Sarah was wholly unprepared for the sensation. The rich meat and hearty roasted vegetables didn't much different than they would have Aboveground, but where she expected the bitter tang of magic and an overcompensation of flavor as she had tasted with the peach; here, her whole body had an immediate reaction, like giving a glucose tablet in a diabetic crisis.
Sarah didn't recall being physically hungry but rather responded to an instinct to nourish herself. With one hand forking in food, she observed her other hand with curiosity. Between blinks and bites, she thought her skin regained some color and elasticity.
A moment later, the door opened again, this time revealing Sélan. She bustled into the room, ever-present satchel swinging behind her. "Good morning, Sarah."
Caught off-guard, Sarah returned the greeting with a nod, her cheeks full. She covered her mouth, cheeks flushing as it occurred to her she did not know goblin etiquette.
Sélan gave her a pointed look. "Did you start the potion regiment?"
Sarah picked it up from the nightstand behind her. Despite the fact that it remained still and untouched overnight, the bottle remained warm to the touch. "Wow," she breathed. Magic is awesome.
"I'll suppose that's a no. You would do well to start now, then," Sélan admonished. "You're going to need it."
Sarah paused mid-swig. Is there something I should know?
The concoction tasted pleasant: herbal, but not earthy. A little sweet but not tart. Sarah had tasted something similar before, she could just not put her finger quite on it...
"Sarsparilla," Sélan interjected. A broad smile graced her face. Her eyes twinkled. "What you taste is sarsparilla. I always loved it back home. I thought a fellow human might like a bit of comfort. A spoonful of sugar, and all."
The potion settled within Sarah, warming her from her core. The same ember that smoldered within her the day before sparked again and a tingle ran through her body. She smiled and thanked the healer.
Sélan waved her off. "I doubt Tak alerted you, but His Majesty urgently requested your presence. He bade me to examine you again."
Something in the back of Sarah's mind sounded off a warning. Like the sarsparilla-flavored potion, she could not quite put her finger on it, but an instinct worked to put pieces together while her mind caught up.
In the moment, she stood quietly while Sélan calmly ran her hands over and around Sarah's body. The sparks inside of her bumbled and fizzled. Sarah bit her lip to stop herself from saying something. The same instinct that flickered in the back of her mind also told her to stay quiet.
Sélan stood up straight, arms akimbo—though that did not say much for her short stature. Her eyes searched over her charge, though Sarah suspected Sélan saw more than physical presence. "You're a touch underfed, just yet," she started. "But it will do."
Sarah nodded, unsure otherwise how to respond. She wondered why the Goblin King wanted to see her so early in the morning.
In her mind, Jareth never rose before daybreak. Sarah reddened when it dawned on her that she had any thought of Jareth's daily habits.
Sélan grasped Sarah's wrist gently, her wide grin bright. "Come, let us get you to the King."
This time, the journey through the castle did not seem as intimidating or nonsensical. While a few twists and turns piqued her curiosity, this time; Sarah felt a small measure more of familiarity with the place.
The pair quickly darted through what Sarah clearly remembered as the court before ducking into another corridor. Sélan stopped abruptly, easing Sarah to a stop as they paused in front of a tall French door.
Sélan touched Sarah's arm. "Everything will be fine. Remember what I told you yesterday."
She squeezed Sarah's wrist once, then rapped smartly on the double doors. In the next beat, she was gone.
Sarah whirled around in a circle, looking for her companion. Before she could open her mouth to speak, the doors heaved open.
Jareth lounged back in his chair and regarded Sarah. Though yet still painfully thin, color had returned to her cheeks. She moved with increased grace, as though she was familiar with the setting. The circles under her eyes bore the brunt of her malaise; according to Sélan, Sarah had slept plenty. Something else plagued her, but Jareth could not quite yet sense it in full. He wondered if a tinge of the dark magic that chased them out of the Aboveground tainted her.
Jareth stood and closed the distance between them. He extended his arm and offered the warmest smile he could muster in the circumstances. Sarah's eyes flitted to the table where his breakfast remained untouched on the table as it had been served: steaming and plate piled high. An unspoken knowingness passed between them when she met his gaze.
Nausea, nerves...anxiety; whatever mortals called it: something inexplicable stiffened the hairs on the back of Jareth's neck when Sarah slipped her arm around his elbow. Her eyes surveyed the room, seeing many nooks and crannies for the first time, but her expression remained still.
Jareth led them out of the hall and down the corridor. His adrenalized pulse synced with his steps. Beneath all the uncertainty, he felt a trickle of pride in his veins. Whoever had set the events in motion had surely underestimated the combined abilities between land and ruler. And now, with Sarah returned…
...they were no match for him.
The journey to the gatehouse seemed to take too long and yet no time at all. As they approached, Jareth was suddenly aware of the intimacy of their touch; her arm in his. He deftly slipped his hand from her elbow to her shoulder.
In a rare display of competence, the attendants set to work. Quietly and in sync, they managed to complete their tasks with no bickering above a grumble. While Jareth wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt that they understood the gravity of the situation, he instead assumed they were simply indisposed from their frivolities.
A cloak of coarse red fur was fastened around Sarah's shoulders. A blast of icy wind rattled the portcullis against the heavy doors. The hem of the cloak swayed as an eddy slipped through the cracks and breezed by.
Jareth felt Sarah shudder.
Sarah blinked against the blast of wind that pushed through when the door opened. She squinted against the glare of the snow.
A long moment passed. Jareth made no move. His eyes remained focused on the distance. Sarah followed his line of sight, but only saw faint outlines of the city, obscured by the blowing snow.
Sarah stepped out without Jareth's lead. The powder felt no different than she would have expected Aboveground yet flakes that brushed her cheek tingled. She hastily wiped them away, recalling the moment on the window ledge the day before.
Jareth's gloved hand gently but firmly remained at her elbow. He stared at her, his gaze unreadable and thin mouth drawn. His eyes flicked over her face and down to the coat. His long fingers briefly flexed around her arm. Tension tightened between them, but Sarah did not have get the impression it was toward her.
Despite his indications the previous day about his concern for her relationship with Cassius, a little voice in the back of her mind reminded her that nothing appeared as it truly was in this place and that there was more under every surface—most especially Jareth's own masks.
Yet, his interrogation the day before remained fresh in her mind: he needed her for something, and for that, Sarah presumed he wouldn't risk her physical safety. For that, she trusted him enough to let him guide her out into the city.
They fell into step as they walked. Neither spoke. The only sound between them was the occasional clink of metal of the weapons and armor of the guards that flanked them.
The Goblin City was all at once the same and yet vastly different from Sarah's last visit. From her vantage in the tower, she could not appreciate the scale and civil design, buried under all of the snow. However, at ground level, the detail surprised her. The houses that she remembered as fragile thatch-roofed huts now seemed sturdy cottages, built with masonry and designed with utilitarianism.
They continued through the town. The only other signs of life were the puffs of smoke rising from a few chimneys. A feeling of cautious silence settled over her shoulders. Despite that most of the windows were shuttered, Sarah couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, and not just by Jareth. The idea occurred to her that some of the inhabitants of the Goblin City would not need to train physical eyes on her to see.
The path curved and a familiar gate came into view. Sarah realized that Jareth was leading her to the gates of the labyrinth. An instinct—her powers—flared to life in her core.
As the gate loomed, something seemed amiss. Sarah paused and scanned the wall, looking for something familiar that she could not quite picture or remember.
Jareth also stopped with her, as though he expected it. When she turned her head to speak, his eyes were already trained on her.
She wondered if he had ever looked away.
"Something's different. But it's not just the snow."
Jareth released her arm. He stared at her again for a long moment and something lit in his gaze. One corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes flicked back to where Sarah faced just a moment before.
"I couldn't resist the chance to redecorate after your last adventure had demolished most of my kingdom."
Sarah looked back again, training her memory of the place. Even with the limited visibility, something was absent just on the other side of the city walls.
"The junkyard," she realized. "It's gone?"
Jareth shrugged. "Relocated. Its intended purpose did not seem to be of much use any longer."
"What's there now?"
Whether he had an answer or not, Sarah never found out. Jareth grasped around her wrist, pulling her the last length toward the labyrinth gates.
Sarah's magic flared in her chest again. She wondered if she would ever get used to the sensation. Jareth's hand felt unnaturally warm, especially considering the leather they both wore. For a moment, Sarah prepared to cast the phenomenon aside as an effect of his being fae, or immortal, or even perhaps using his own magic reserves.
But when his thumb flexed and pressed into her wrist, Sarah realized she was the one radiating heat—and it wasn't fever.
She wrenched her hand away and hid it protectively under the cloak. Jareth glanced at her over his shoulder, but said nothing.
As the gates drew nearer, the sensation in Sarah's chest spread. The sense of familiarity prickled in the back of her mind. The idea that she knew this feeling, but couldn't quite place it.
With the king of the goblins astride her and the understanding that she was about to return to the place that haunted her for so long, Sarah no longer questioned that she possessed power. Whether Jareth had relinquished it on purpose or not was of no matter.
Sarah squared her shoulders. Snow plumed around her shins as she lengthened her stride. She had come home—to a place she didn't know as well as she thought.
Much like other aspects of the Goblin City, the gates had either changed, or Sarah didn't remember them correctly. Before, they had been rough-hewn doors with a clumsy robot wedged into them. Now, they were formidable and impassable, interlocking steel bands and the array of spikes were much sharper, longer, and more numerous. Sarah had assumed that there were several gates in and out of the city, but now she wondered if this was the only one.
Jareth waved a hand over the gate. Complex locks and bolts undid themselves. Each clink of a cam and turning of a bolt echoed loudly across the way and pierced the silence. At long last—Sarah lost count of how many locks unfastened—the gates heaved open.
Inside was an empty foyer, blanketed in the same snowfall that plagued the rest of the city. The sandstone walls reminded Sarah of her first few hours during the last adventure, marking stones with cheap lipstick. It otherwise remained nondescript and void of any decoration, benches, or shrubbery. The only indication that it led to the labyrinth inside were openings on the far end of the side walls, directly opposite each other.
Sarah's fingers twitched.
Before, as a desperate young girl, this place seemed impossible and foreboding. But when she crossed the threshold, this time, something deep inside of her snapped and a floodgate opened.
Calmness washed over her. The puzzle pieces she gathered just minutes before now depicted something as plain as the nose on her face: all of her efforts and attempts to remember everything when she was still Aboveground were attempts to find this. To return here.
She stood in the center of the gate with her eyes closed and face skyward. Wave after wave of warmth and belonging washed over her. It both intoxicated and nauseated her.
Something else, acidic and vile, licked at Sarah's nerves. She forced it down and away, basking in the moment of her return.
She took two more long, confident strides into the esplanade. She spread her arms and leaned back.
Flakes tickled her cheeks. They clung to her hair. The silence stretched on but Sarah's mind and body buzzed, thrumming with vitality she did not know she had missed until she set foot here.
Amidst the uncertainty, the feeling of home clicked deeply inside her, somewhere.
After several long moments, she remembered Jareth. When she dropped her arms and looked around, he was on neither side of her.
Sarah whirled around, an about-face. She didn't realize she had wandered so far inside.
But something held her still: she didn't want to walk back out.
Jareth remained on the other side, hands clasped behind his back. His sharp blue eyes trained on her. His eyes flicked up and down her body and returned to her face, but his neutral expression remained.
The cozy feelingmelted and cold panic coursed through Sarah's veins. She remained frozen in her spot when realization dawned on her.
It was a trap. Jareth knew Sarah would do what she did: walk right back in without a second thought.
And she knew with absolute certainty he was about to leave her there.
"Don't!"
Sarah went to extend an arm toward him, to run back out of the labyrinth and leave it behind forever. Her arm twitched but she could not draw it forward, held back by an unseen force.
His eyes remained locked with hers even as the sentries moved in unison and flanked the gates. They grunted as they pushed against the heavy doors. They moved inch by inch. Sarah wondered if it was snow or magic that they struggled against.
The knowledge that he had brought her back without her informed consent had rankled her. It superseded any other remaining fantasies or vestiges of goodwill. Sarah didn't want to play his game again and would much rather be left alone to her miseries Aboveground.
Leave me to Cassius. Let him play his games. At least I know the rules.
As the gates drew closer together and her window with his view closed, she struggled more against the invisible bonds that held her back. She thrashed but moved like she was punching underwater. Her skin burned in the struggle like it was on fire from the inside out.
"No! Please!" Sarah grappled and struggled. Her breath ragged. Her knees buckled but her descent was slow. She eased into the snow, as though she were a weak magnet pulled to the earth.
Jareth's head tilted slightly back, his imperious stare bright and intense. Sarah felt something sever inside her the moment the gates closed.
In the same moment, the force that prevented her from leaving released and she collapsed. Her chest heaved and wracked with sobs and the bubbly sensations of belongingness and home edged away, but not entirely. Mortal panic and exhaustion took over, firing off every nerve in her body.
Ever still, the chilling realization of abandonment trickled down her spine.
Jareth had left her, defenseless, in his own labyrinth, amidst his own traps and puzzles, after the entire display of concern and worry for her safety that Sarah still did not quite trust or understand.
The sudden, sobering understanding that things were different and she had no bearings, that Jareth had rebuilt and rearranged everything she had conquered, pulled at her in ways Sarah didn't know she possessed. She was truly lost this time, and he knew it.
Sarah rolled to her side, knees tucked to her chest. Thick tears slipped down her cheek and puddled into the snow.
He had won, after all this time. Once and for all.
Sarah could not have cared less that he had exacted revenge to defeat her. Instead, the betrayal of his cruel abandonment crushed her resolve. For better or for worse, Jareth had been the only lifeline she had clung to all this time, a wildcard she always kept up her sleeve but never played. And when he used it, he did only to cast her away. Just like everyone else.
Jareth was not prepared for the moment of surrender. He trusted the labyrinth as much as it trusted him, but a bitterness stung his throat, knowing he was powerless to Sarah's fate once the gates closed. For that, he forced himself to stand still, unable to tear his eyes away from hers, already thick with tears.
Jareth had oftentimes heard mortals refer to the phenomenon as "watching a trainwreck"—the knowingness that something truly terrible was about to happen that no one could stop, without the ability to intervene or look away.
Jareth had silently cursed once the gates closed and the tension had broken. He spun on his heel and marched straight toward the castle. That he had done the same thing not even twenty-six hours prior was not lost on him, and frustrated him further. The guards jogged behind him, wheezing as they headed back toward the castle.
The Goblin King did not appreciate loss of control or authority, and neither were in his immediate grasp at present. His mind raced but all paths led back to the gate he had just turned from.
It angered him further.
Jareth's strides lengthened as he cut through the town. Something undefinable bubbled inside him in a way that he had not felt in a long time. Not since Sarah herself had crossed the threshold to the Goblin City so long ago. Leaving her behind, closed in its walls, defenseless, would have been his former modus operandi—the very purpose of his game.
But now, so soon after having Sarah returned, where she belonged all along, with her entrusted entirely to the labyrinth's whim in an entirely different context than before. A bitter coldness dropped into Jareth's stomach.
He stomped through the portcullis, ignoring the armory's open door along the way, ignoring the missing yeti cloak.
Jareth stopped in the dead center of the court, and for the first in a long time, observed his surroundings. The chaos comforted him, but the filth disgusted him. Sarah had destroyed everything—and he had poured all of his energy into restoring the castle and city from the ground up. He had counted each brick.
But until now, he had not fully appreciated what he had lost and rebuilt.
Jareth's work was not solitary. His subjects, as stupid and ineffectual as they could be, were loyal beyond measure. Pride swelled in his chest, knowing that for all the brawn and scope of other kingdoms in the Underground, that his alone was among very few that could be trusted and counted upon to physically and literally rebuild itself for not only their own sake—true to their nature—but also for the sake of their leader.
Jareth scoffed and clucked his tongue. He must have begun to soften in his age. Sarah's bond with the treasonous dwarf and affection for the very goblins set out to thwart her original mission had gone over his head and perplexed him for so many moons. Until now.
All the same, Sarah's parade through the city and re-entry into the labyrinth would not go without notice and detailed gossip would round back to him by the morning at the latest.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, one hand on his hip. With the unusual activity the past couple of days, it was easy to forget the subjects which he explicitly worked so hard for.
He considered Sarah. The adult, mysterious, defiant one he openly leered at in the library. The infuriating minx was not much different than she had been before, except now that she was mature, and further foresighted, and cautious of her steps enthralled him.
Before, she had been too old to turn, too young to keep. She wasn't anymore.
With her tucked away and set about whatever mission "his" labyrinth had in store for her, Jareth could freely admit that out loud.
Someone cleared their throat behind him and the words died on his tongue. Jareth whirled around, at ready to defend—goblins could scarcely knock, much less cough to announce their arrival.
Cassius leaned against the stone frame to the gatehouse. The door remained open behind him. His silvery, tightly curled hair and rich olive skin contrasted with the blinding snow. A tight smile played about his lips. As a crown prince and not a sitting king, his outfit was finely tailored and the quality of the garments signified his rank, but otherwise plain. Anything more complex would be above his station.
Jareth recalled the letter. For now.
Cassius widened his smile when he and Jareth caught each others' gaze. He cast his arms wide and stepped forward into the court.
"Your Majesty! It is such a pleasure to see you."
Jareth's jaw tightened and he pointed his chin. He stared down his nose.
"What is your business here, your Highness?" He hissed out the last word like an angry snake, ready to strike.
Cassius casually folded his arms. "I just happened to be in the general realm of your awe-inspiring, yet rugged, kingdom and thought I might drop by after our most recent correspondence."
The hair on the back of Jareth's neck bristled, but he steeled his face. "I don't recall extending an invitation for you to call, Prince Cassius."
The crown prince of Ourobryd smiled then, broad and toothy. Unlike his cousin's sharp features, Cassius' square face blended well with Aboveground standards of male beauty. Jareth was reminded of stoic models he spotted on beauty advertisements during his visits Aboveground.
"My mistake, Majesty." Cassius dipped into an emphatic bow, though kept his gaze locked. "Please forgive my unannounced arrival."
Jareth inclined his head. For now, he had to play by the rules. "The Goblin Kingdom welcomes any blood of its sovereign," he recited by rote. Family is always welcome—even when it isn't, he finished silently. "Please do me the favor of informing the court as to why you are here, sir Cassius?"
Cassius entered the court with heavy, calculated steps. Jareth steeled and schooled his face into an impartial stare. After the letter he had received, Jareth would not trust him further than he could be thrown. Or bogged.
Within arm's reach, far too close to the throne for comfort, Cassius extended a hand in offering, gloved palm upwards. "I am here to affirm our ranking as allies, your Majesty." He immediately bowed to his knee and offered a hand.
Jareth would not succumb to such tactics of flattery. That Cassius would show now when Sarah's presence in the Underground was fresh and her raw magic almost shone from her like a beacon was not a coincidence.
Jareth smirked. He flexed his hands and rolled his shoulders.
"Please remind me of the terms of our allyship," Jareth drawled. He dragged out each word with deliberation. "With your written intention to take a bride, it is customary to inform me of her background and future succession."
Cassius remained as he was, kneeling. He withdrew his hand and glanced around, watching the snowfall from the windows that broadcast sunlight to the he noticed any change in Jareth's demeanor, he said nothing. His chin dipped and his mouth curved upwards.
Cassius abandoned all pretense. He stood upright and turned toward the entrance, arms crossed at his chest.
"I hope you do not wish for me to insult your intelligence to your own face, your Majesty," he started. He glanced over his shoulder and casually gestured toward the vast wall of whiteness outside. His steely eyes flashed. "I would much rather enjoy hearing you tell the tale from your own mouth."
Jareth bristled, stiff and poised in his throne. A gust of wind slammed against the castle. A few snowflakes drifted in, swirling in an eddie.
"Though I still intended to call upon you, I'd rather hoped that it would have been with my betrothed in hand, so you could meet her properly. Unfortunately, it seems as though my plans have been thwarted." Cassius' tone remained light, as though the storm raging outside was a springtime rain.
Jareth's hands twitched. He tapped a pointed finger against the armrest.
When he moved next, it happened so quickly that he was shoulder to shoulder with Cassius before a goblin could blink.
Jareth kept his gaze long and distant, much further out than Cassius could see. He also kept his tone conversational. "Surely, a mortal woman, even one with a measure of power as you claim, is easily retrieved when needed."
Cassius clucked his tongue. "One could assume. However, it seems as though stronger forces of supernature in our realm have already claimed her."
"Unless our practices have changed, mortals have agency to consent or deny to advances, and in fact, if I recall correctly and I'm sure I do, the consent is required of them."
Cassius did not respond. Instead, the air tightened between them. Jareth felt a force build around him as Cassius struggled to maintain his composure.
He continued.
"I would hope that you would not want to subject yourself, or your betrothed,, to potential consequences if that principle was subverted."
A long moment stretched between them. When Cassius spoke again, his voice chilled considerably.
"In my time Aboveground, I often overheard humans speak of a phrase when they were caught in the direst of circumstances. Surely you've heard it? 'Desperate times call for desperate measures,' they say."
Jareth tensed; not from fear, but anticipation. If Cassius would say what Jareth predicted, the consequences could be numerous and dangerous. Without action, entire societies could fall. He equally hoped that Cassius would say nothing and everything at once. Doubt smoothed the edges of his anger when he considered how willing he was to risk his kingdom, again, over a mortal woman.
And then he remembered that for all the things in this situation out of his control, that also included the actions of others, and he was duty-bound to protect it at any cost. Sarah's previous defeat had been his own doing—mostly.
Jareth flexed his wrists behind his back, white sparks of magic flaring, but otherwise said nothing.
"And I find that in my current situation, with my mother's tragic death and the urgency bestowed on me to establish my authority within my realm, I have no problem risking the potential consequences to ensure my seat on the throne. Surely, your Majesty, you enjoy dancing around a few rules yourself from time to time?" He grinned and clapped Jareth's shoulder jovially.
Some of Jareth's mask fell and he snarled. He growled, low through gritted teeth.
"Cassius, I will warn you exactly once that you are perilously close to committing treason, the consequences of which are likely to be fatal, or worse, for you."
Cassius ignored him, and placed his other hand on Jareth's shoulder, gripping them. They faced each other, expressions hard set and wide open, twisted with malice.
Any remaining pretense and false smiles disappeared as they stared each other down. Raw power pulsed between them, invisible but for shockwaves that twisted midair. White-hot rage seeped from Cassius' fingertips.
"I have no intention of playing by the rules, Jareth," he hissed. He dragged out the name, growling and spitting the consonants. "There was no need to include you in this, but you had to play the hero, didn't you? Just how much more power or attention do you need? Sarah Williams will be mine, and together we will resurrect Ourobryd."
Despite the latent danger of his words, they were a perverse relief to the Goblin King's ears. In one fluid motion, Jareth swung his arms over and around Cassius' own, bending his elbows and forcing to release his grip. Jareth grasped his wrists and twisted them around to behind his back.
From behind, Jareth leaned over his cousin's shoulder and hissed in his ear. "What a simple fool of you to think you could attempt to threaten me in my own castle." He clenched his hands tighter round Cassius' wrists and jerked the arms in his grasp. Cassius writhed and flexed his jaw, but remained silent.
"You have upped your own stakes, your Highness. You see, it was not I that intervened with your plans. Sarah is not in my sole custody."
The ground rumbled ominously beneath them. Weapons and armor clanged in the armory like a grotesque windchime. A keg wobbled and teetered, but righted itself.
Cassius' eyes widened as he glanced down at the floor and darted between around the court as it jostled in the quake. Jareth chuckled.
"I'll let you in on a little secret. It is believed that I rule the labyrinth and that it bends entirely to my will. On the contrary, the labyrinth and I co-exist peacefully. You are right if you assume one cannot survive without the other, but we are not one and the same. Any attempt to destroy me would waken its ire, much like I would be a formidable enemy should you choose to attack it."
The earth quaked again and wind slammed the castle walls from every direction. Cassius' counters reduced to a whimper, mutterings lost in the raging wind.
Jareth relished the fear that wafted off his cousin like the stench of the bog. The predator in him grinned. He could taste it—already like victory.
"The critical mistake you made today, Cassius, is being pitifully ignorant of the fact that the labyrinth has already claimed Sarah as its own, and it might have a point or two of contention with you about the matter of betrothing her for your own gain. While the labyrinth and I differ highly in our opinion of Sarah and her ransacking of my kingdom, we both agree that she is a highly valued piece of its story and neither of us is keen to relinquish her. And even if she wanted to…" he trailed off, pointedly sizing up his captive. "...I doubt she would choose you."
Jareth moved one hand to the back of Cassius' neck and gripped tightly. He pushed forward, forcing him to walk toward the wide opening that looked out into the city.
The storm raged, whipping up in a fury that Jareth had not yet seen. The wind screamed and slammed the walls, booming and shaking everything inside the castle. It tore at their clothes and whipped up Cassius' stiff coif into a rats nest.
Cassius shuddered in Jareth's grip, shirking back toward him, seeking the shelter of the castle. Behind him Jareth stood in awe, his face open and eyes wide. The magic overflowing from the storm seeped into and overtook him, the labyrinth raging against the creature that wished harm.
"Do you see, Cassius? Over there, the walls and gate to the labyrinth? Do you feel its power? Are you are prepared to go in and claim what you believe is yours?"
Cassius didn't respond. What was said was said: he could not undo his actions or intentions.
Jareth tightened his grip, digging in his nails. A sliver of blood warmed a fingertip. He resisted the urge to press further and bit down on his own lip to quell it. The desire to shed blood overpowered his faculties; he was ready for war.
"I'll give you a head start to prepare. I look forward to watching you fight your way to your own death."
Jareth thrust Cassius out into the white abyss.
A/N: Wow, hi! Um, so. It's...been a whole year since an update. Yikes. There's no real excuse except just me getting in my own way. This chapter has been written, re-written, beta'ed, re-beta'ed, then un-beta'd (knock one-or three-back for none other than glasshibou and her infinite patience). Long story short besides the tedium of life, is that some things I had outlined would simply not work the way I have this story formatted. The elements are all there but between Chapters 6, 7, and 8, things were not going to line up the way I envisioned. I'm sure this chapter has raised some questions! They will be answered in time.
I am quite particular about how I voice and format this particular fic and in order to just get the freakin' thing done I had to throw a little bit of caution to the wind. I can only stare at the same thing for so long before I get antsy. As it is, the last full beta it had was at the end of December. Likely, after I sit on this for a few days and come back to it I expect several face-palm moments but...I can't see them now. I'm just happy to finally give you guys another chapter. Thank you for sticking around! I've seen the numbers still creep along as people read it and poke their head in every now and then. Chapter 7 is on my to-do list for Camp NaNo in the coming weeks, and now that I fixed the plot problems I had I really hope to keep this thing trucking until it's DONE.
(so I can start the sequel :)