A Feathered Fiasco of Goblin Proportions (Part Un)
It really wasn't his fault – in fact, if anyone was to blame, it was Puck.
Fucking Puck, or Pucking Fuck…whatever. Damn him and his trickster hide regardless!
Jareth had finally gotten Sarah right where he wanted her, naked, in his bed, and oddly enough, smeared with chocolate. Okay, so the chocolate cake was a bonus in his book. He hadn't planned on it. That was her idea, and being ever the gentleman, he was perfectly amenable to the suggestion. Alright, so maybe not a gentleman, but amenable…definitely.
After a blissful two days proving to Sarah that he was far better than this so-called 'Better Than Sex' chocolate cake, demonstrating in every way imaginable, including some that the author's of the Kama Sutra only wished they had dreamt up, Puck – Fucking Puck – showed up and all hell broke loose. Or was it all Avalon broke loose? At any rate, it wasn't good and it cost him a full Underground week, which is a month Aboveground, suffering the pomp and circumstance at High Court to sort the mess out, and it wasn't over yet. Oh no, thanks to Puck – Fucking Puck – it wasn't yet over by a long shot.
Thanks to Puck, he not only had to deal with the High King's ultimatim and the High Queen's meddling, but as evidenced by Sarah's behavior at the club last night, her wrath as well. Of the three, he felt more comfortable dealing with Auberon and Tatiana. While their methods were unpredictable, often painful and at the very least cringe-inducing, of the three of them, he was betting that his father and step-mother would be kinder to him in the long run than Sarah when she knew the full story and what he needed her to do to set things right.
Peering down at the touseled head resting on his chest, Jareth sighed deeply.
Yea Gods, this is going to be painful.
You brought it on yourself, mate – interjected his inner-self helpfully.
Best get it over with, then?
Gods above, man! Don't wake her yet. In fact, don't even think about telling her until she has had at least her first pot of coffee – his sense of self-preservation offered. For once, he was glad that his sense of self-preservation was as well developed as it was, which for a King, was a very useful thing indeed.
Hmmm…sage advice.
What can I say, sometimes I get lucky. – nodded his self-preservation, observing the sleeping woman in his bed. Although, I can't complain when you get lucky either.
And oh yes, he had indeed gotten lucky in the last 24 hours. Not only did Sarah not kill him as the violent flashing of her green eyes had intimated when he first saw her at the club, but once he got her back to the castle, and had begged her forgiveness in all kinds of new and delicious ways until she begged him to stop as she could no longer feel her toes and sounded like she had swallowed a chorus line of frogs, she was remarkably willing to forgive him – if only so she could get some sleep.
Thinking back on the last week of his life (month of Sarah's) Jareth vividly remembered the moment that things went pear-shaped. Correction, went straight to hell on the express boat along the River Stix, with Puck at the helm.
– Fucking, fucking, fuckityfuckityPUCK!
Since the goblins were expected to be in the bog for another day at least before finding their way back to the castle, Jareth had let down the guard spells that surrounded his suite of chambers. That was his second mistake - he first was believing that Puck could keep a secret.
The bastard Puck had caught him with his pants down – literally. It had been after his and Sarah's fourth and final attempt at sampling the cake (the first three attempts being aborted in favor of other pleasures, that did not involve food, although there was much tasting and dancing of tongues). Jareth was in the process of leading Sarah to the bath in order to wash off the remaining cake (which really wasn't very much as he had been nothing if not thorough when attempting to remove it with his tongue), and if he was honest with himself, to finally see her naked form wrapped around his in the large copper clawed tub, an image that had featured prominently in his dreams since he first had her in his chambers on her 16th birthday** – that was when Puck arrived, with all of the grace of a satyr in heat.
Puck materialized on the balcony as Jareth and Sarah crossed the middle of the chamber toward the bathroom, naked. Not expecting any visitors, much less those that would barge in unannounced, when Sarah saw the brown, fuzzy faun appear on the balcony, she was, understandably, shocked. Okay, that is something of an understatement. Rather, she gave a shriek that would have made a banshee wince, and launched herself at the heavy velvet curtains that edged the balcony doors, wrapping herself in them so that only her eyes and toes showed.
"What the bloody hell?" roared Jareth, glaring at the hobgoblin as he nearly fell off the balcony in his haste to enter Jareth's bed chamber.
"They come!" yelped Puck, his eyes wide and his voice urgent. "Lose the mortal."
Frowning, Jareth eyed the faun darkly, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Puck, what have you done?" he snarled, his voice so icy, the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees as soon as he spoke.
"No time! I flee…and so should you if you know what is good for you young Princeling!" gasped Puck, before disappearing in a flash of gold, the only thing remaining of his message being small tufts of brownish fur that drifted to the flagstones of the balcony.
He turned to Sarah, who was starting to untangle herself from the curtains, her emerald eyes staring at him in confusion.
"Who…" she began, her voice shaking as she tried to understand what had just happened.
"No time, Precious," he sighed, shaking his head and cursing darkly at Puck. "Forgive me love, but you must go home, now."
With that, Jareth conjured a crystal and tossed it at her, unceremoniously popping her back to her apartment, in time for her Sunday evening dinner with her family. He knew she would be furious, but if what Puck said was true, there had been no time to explain. In the end, he was glad he trusted Puck on that at least, because moments after Puck vanished and Sarah had been sent home, a great bald eagle and a tawny hawk landed on the railing of the balcony. The birds blinked silently at him, before transforming.
Within moments, High King Auberon and High Queen Tatiana stood before him. His father lounging casually against the balustrade of the balcony, resplendent in shades of green, his white beard, fluttering gently in the morning breeze, while his pale blue eyes were fixed sternly on his youngest son. The Queen, looked at Jareth, her violet eyes taking in the sight of his still naked form, her thin lips turned up in amusement.
"Seems we have caught the boy at an inopportune moment, Auberon," she smiled, raising an eyebrow at Jareth, as if daring him to deny it. She moved closer to Jareth, the pale blue satin of her dress rustling softly with each step, swirling gracefully around her legs as she stopped.
Ignoring Tatiana's comment, Jareth flicked his wrist and was swathed in a rich burgundy robe, never taking his eyes from his father.
"Hmmm…so much your like your father," purred Tatiana, flicking her tongue over pale pink lips, "Both in….attributes and ….tastes."
"Down woman," barked the High King, turning to glare at his wife. "Is it not bad enough that I must deal with his misdeeds, must I also deal with you practically propositioning the boy right in front of your husband and his father? Honestly woman…" he grumbled.
"You married her, Father," Jareth drawled, his pale eyes glaring at his father.
"Aye….I had to. She trapped me after screwing me senseless. She is tireless in bed….but that is beside the point and none of your business, so I'll thank you not to try to change the subject, boy!" growled the High King, as he moved from the balcony into the room.
Watching his father stalk into his bedchamber, Jareth sighed and ran a hand through his hair, fluffing up the sleep matted feathery wisps. With a flourish of his hand, a coffee pot and pastries appeared on the table by the fireplace. He turned to pour himself a large mug, and took a deep sip, before settling into the chair opposite that which his father now occupied.
"So…shall we dispense with the usual pleasantries, Father, and you tell me what would bring the High King and Queen to my humble kingdom without warning or the common courtesy of an invitation?" Jareth asked, his voice a study in quiet fury.
Like any child, he detested parental visits, particularly when they were unannounced and the fact that they had interrupted what was promising to be a very lazy morning with Sarah, only further angered him.
"You know damn well why we are here, boy. I'm sure that traitorous faun has filled you in. And when I find him, he'll wish he'd stayed at court as instructed," snapped the High King, plucking up a pastry with elegant fingers and waving it as he talked, before biting into it.
"Puck was in such a hurry, he failed to say why you were visiting," Jareth gave a wry smile, "And Puck better hope that you find him before I do."
Brushing crumbs from his great beard, Auberon looked at his youngest son and shook his head. "Puck wasn't the one who told us what you were up to, so you keep your vengeful thoughts to yourself. Another Fae happened upon the event you were at and imagine their surprise to see a child of the High King being auctioned off to mortals!"
"I wasn't actually auctioned off," came the cold reply, as Jareth peered into the depths of his mug of coffee.
- Is it possible to drown in a mug of coffee? That might be preferable to what is surely coming next. – inquired his inner voice.
Jareth grimaced in response. If only it were that easy.
"Dragged off stage by a mortal girl, is what the one reporting the incident said," cooed Tatiana, a snide smile teasing her lips as she moved to lounge on Jareth's bed, smiling wickedly at him when she noted that the bed was still warm.
"Actually," intoned Auberon, his voice deep and rumbling with amusement, "the part about the mortal girl is not the problem. In fact, from the way she was described and her actions, I rather think I'd like to make her acquaintance, she seems the sort of challenge I'd enjoy."
Tatiana merely rolled her eyes at her husband, completely nonplussed by the idea of him going after yet another mortal conquest, since he always returned to her bed anyway – once her latest lover was worn out and no more use to her.
"Hands and all other appendages off, Father. She is marked," snarled Jareth, his eyes darkening with possessive rage at the idea of his father pursuing Sarah in any way, shape or form.
"Aye, that is what the one making the report said. And judging by the way the girl was carrying on about you, and your response, it is safe to say that you have claimed her," retorted the High King wistfully, around a mouthful of pastry.
Jareth nodded, warily watching the High King.
"Well get her out of your system now, boy. Your time is nearly up and the deadline looms. You have eight days until the ball and your announcement must be made by then," the High King rumbled. "Have you found a bride yet?"
"No."
"Consort?" the King asked hopefully.
"No."
"Damn it boy! Courtesan? Paramour? I care not really, but you must show the possibility of an heir before the end of the ball! You know the rules," muttered the High King in frustration, his pale eyes flashing impatiently.
Shrugging, Jareth shook his head. He wasn't prepared to tell his father his intentions toward Sarah until he had spoken to her. He wanted her for his Queen. He had hinted about it over the years, usually while they were flirting and teasing each other shamelessly. But, considering how she'd reacted the first time he made such an offer – he had grave doubts about her taking his hints and comments seriously.
- Offer? 'Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave'? Honestly! Did you expect a 14 year old mortal to interpret that as 'Marry me and be my Queen'? – snarked his inner self.
Do shut up.
"That tears it," grumbled the High King, pausing to brush the last of the pastry crumbs from his beard and chest before standing and holding out a hand to his wife. "You're coming with us to court and you will make a decision this week or I will be forced to make it for you."
Jareth put down his coffee mug and glared at his father.
"I am sorry Father, but I do have a kingdom to run and therefore must remain here this week," he drawled, his eyes snapping darkly at his father.
The High King pulled his wife close, wrapping an arm around her as he stepped menacingly toward where Jareth was seated. Despite knowing the power Auberon could unleash when pushed too far, Jareth didn't flinch when he saw the fierce look in the usually jovial eyes of the High King.
"That…was not a request, boy!"
In a flash they were gone and Jareth found himself standing in his childhood suite at the castle of the High King.
"Damn you, Father!" Jareth bellowed, his face red and flushed with rage.
"You'll thank me when you have an heir," laughed the disembodied voice of his father.
He was stuck, held captive at his father's court for a week. A week he would have rather been spending with Sarah. A week spent being introduced to, chatted up by, and at times blatantly propositioned by every eligible Fae, Elven and even Dwarven woman in the Underground kingdoms – and a few married as well, which was another problem entirely.
Damn that blasted faun and his allegiance to the crown!
According to Underground cannon, unwed kings had 300 years on the throne during which they had to make arrangements for an heir. When Sarah had wished Toby away, Jareth had every intention of making Toby his heir, but Sarah ruined that – thank the Gods – when she won her brother back. On her 16th birthday, Jareth had made the decision to court her, but being so young, she didn't understand that his reappearance in her life and visits were just that – courting her for marriage. Grooming her to be his Queen.
Sarah's failure to understand what he was doing didn't pose a problem for Jareth. Actually, if he was honest with himself, it was probably better that she didn't fully understand the implications of his presence in her life, because that allowed her to consider him a friend first. Over the years, he knew she would grow to love him. By her 18th birthday, she did, and he knew that she would eventually be his, but he was content to bide his time until she was ready. Unfortunately, it seemed the High Council was overruling cannon in this case and willing to force his hand earlier than the cannon dictated deadline. He had to hope that Sarah was ready for what he must ask of her.
Unfortunately, while the citizens of the Goblin Kingdom adored Sarah to a person, others in the Underground were not as accepting of humans, much less the idea of a human on an Underground throne.
"I will have no other," Jareth shouted over the din in the appeals room of the High Court Council, on the Friday of his High King imposed, week at court. He had been pacing the courtroom for the last three hours, arguing with the council members about Sarah and his desire to make her Queen.
"She is a mortal," sniped Duchess Alissandra, her amber eyes glowering at Jareth. "Her feelings are of no consequence. You must choose another, King Jareth."
"Never!" he snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously at the Duchess. "No where in cannon law does it say that an heir of the High King must marry one of the Underground races."
Several of the council members nodded in agreement. While they were not in favor of a royal family member marrying a mortal, as they would rather he consider their own daughters, they could not argue with his interpretation of cannon law.
"Well cannon law does dictate that as an heir of the High King and King in your own right, you must marry a member of royalty or nobility. Is this girl of royal birth?" sneered Lord Llewyllen.
Shaking his head, Jareth looked at his father, his mismatched eyes pleading with him. If anyone would understand the attraction of a mortal love, it would be his father. But the High King merely looked sadly at his son, then turned his attention back to the council members.
"There has never been a mortal on any Underground throne," nodded Vicount Roan, "She would not be accepted by the High Court or courtiers."
"That is merely racist political nonsense," retorted Jareth, dismissing the comment with a wave of his hand.
"Keep her as a paramour, by all means, King Jareth," purred Lady Tegwyn, her voice lilting with sultry intent, "But you must consider only those of royal or noble stature for Queen, Consort or Concubine."
Jareth glared at Lady Tegwyn, remembering her attempts to weasel her way into his bed and when he turned her down flat, she had sent her daughter to try for the Goblin Queen's throne.
"No. I love her and will not have her humiliated as merely a paramour."
Lady Alissandra laughed haughtily, her lips curled in an unattractive sneer as she looked at him.
"Love? What has love got to do with royal marriages? Love is for the weak, King Jareth. Has this girl so besotted you that you have forgotten the primary function of royal marriages is to secure the line for future generations and create power, wealth or magical alliances. Is it not enough that no mortal has ever sat on an Underground throne, but this mortal can offer neither power, wealth or magical alliances for the Goblin Kingdom," she sneered.
The doors to the council chamber were flung open as a small fox entered, his bushy tail waving behind him like a flag as he trotted purposefully toward Jareth, his arms burdened with a sheaf of parchment scrolls.
Standing, the High King glared at the little fox as he hurried toward the front of the room where Jareth now sat, his head in his hands in frustration.
"Sir Knight," rumbled the High King, "This is a closed session of the council. You are not welcome here."
Jareth looked up, his face brightening hopefully upon seeing the small fox.
"He is with me, Your Majesty," Jareth murmured, hoping against hope that Sir Didymus brought good news. "He was on an important errand for me. If the council would give me a moment to confer with my subject, I believe we can wrap this matter up expediently."
The High King nodded in Jareth's direction, before retaking his seat, lounging upon his throne with a leg tossed carelessly over one arm, while his arms were draped over the opposite side of the throne.
Jareth knelt down on one knee, putting himself at eye-level with his faithful fox knight, his voice low, "Please tell me you found something, Didymus – anything that could help us."
"Yes, Your Majesty. I think we have it. Hoggle and I were up the last two days pouring over the books in the library and we finally found it in the unbound histories of the kingdom," Sir Didymus said, his furry face smiling at the King as he held out the parchment scrolls.
Taking the scrolls, Jareth flipped rapidly through them, then stopped suddenly, his eyes wide as he read the text and looked at the image on the parchment – it was his Sarah, or at least looked remarkably like her. Jareth looked from the scroll to Didymus and back again.
"Amazing…." he breathed in surprise.
"Yes, Sire. We couldn't believe it ourselves, but there it was, plain as the nose on my face, in the historical scrolls," replied Didymus, reverent awe evident in his voice.
Rising, Jareth swept toward the bank of chairs the council members sat upon, his pale eyes sharp and bright as he unfurled the scroll in front of them.
"I am afraid, that the honorable council members are mistaken on several points, some of which have just come to light thanks to the work of my loyal knight here," he said, gesturing to Sir Didymus, who blushed under his fur at the compliment from his King. "Firstly, there has been a mortal on an Underground throne, and not just any throne, but the Goblin Kingdom throne. Queen Saraphina was the second ruler of the kingdom, following King Jareth I upon his death. Secondly, my Sarah is indeed a member of Underground nobility, as she has defeated the Labyrinth. Not only is she considered by cannon law to be the Champion of the Labyrinth, but by Goblin Kingdom cannon, she is also the Lady of the Labyrinth, and therefore equal in noble rank to any other Lady in the Underground."
Looking down the line of council members, Jareth smiled widely, his eyes feral in their intensity, as if daring them to deny his intentions any further, given that cannon law was on his side now.
"As such, I declare my intent to seek the Lady of the Labyrinth, Sarah Williams of the Aboveground, as my Queen."
The High King chuckled softly, and smiled. While he preferred mortal women for paramours and the odd dalliance, if his son was intent upon marrying this mortal and taking her to wife, then she must be no ordinary human.
"As High King, I give my consent for you to pursue this match. You must formally declare her status at the ball, otherwise the council will arrange your marriage to a suitable Fae female. What say you, King Jareth, Lord of the Labyrinth?"
"Agreed, Your Majesty," drawled Jareth, bowing formally to his father, a mischevious smirk lighting up his angular features.
As it turned out, getting the council to agree to let him seek Sarah's hand was the easy part – now he just had to figure out how to get Sarah to agree to it.