Disclaimer: Labyrinth is not mine.
A/N: I love my reviewers! Much gratitude to: Sasha251125, Narnian Sprite, seniastardust, megkat31, Impress, anon, iCraft, mot, gothicangel, darkbangle, Seridano, lonely 27, daughterofthe1king, Nyakai, Barranca, J Luc Pitard, bloodfary9788, hazlgrnlizzy, rosegoddess9, LadyGrey69, and UndergroundDaydreams. It's one day late, but I hope it makes up for it ;)
ENJOY.
Chapter 18: When Dreams Become Reality
The room was darker than she remembered.
It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the shadows climbing up the tapestry laden walls and down the lengths of wooden dressers and bedposts. But adjust they did. As the night became transparent, and the shapes and textures discernible, Sarah decided that calling forth the challenge in this room, the room he'd prepared painstakingly for her, was akin to torture.
She saw the imprint of his magic just as clearly as her own hands, which she couldn't stop from running across the gleaming wood. She'd hadn't noticed it before, but the traces were throbbing with such vigor that the recognition almost burned at her skin, pulling her farther and farther into its folds. Every step forward lessened the pain and Sarah realized it had been pain of separation, and that now she would be fine. She had returned. She would stay. She was home.
She took a deep breath. Even the air carried his spicy scent and the tingle of his magic. He was as much a part of the room as she was. My room, her subconscious chanted, but at this point, that was neither here nor there. There was only now, and how to spend the future. The past held no meaning. Something like satisfaction hummed within her head, and Sarah paused, suddenly confused.
But why did I ever leave this place? And how did I come here? She had been certain she'd needed to finish something, but her memory was hazy. Was there a test? She blinked twice, on the edge of panic and acceptance, but the soft caress of magic on her skin continued to pull her into the room. The hint of a man?
"Such foolish thoughts, my Sarah," a masculine voice purred.
Her body turned on its own, drawn in by the familiar lilt and warm tones. She found him instantly. His back was turned and he appeared to be staring out the open window, black cloak fluttering behind him. Too obvious to have been there when she'd entered the room, he had either appeared from thin air or been molded from the hum of magic within. As he turned, Sarah decided she didn't care either way.
She knew him, oh how she knew him. The soft corn silk hair that framed his face like a mane, a face carved from white marble and the kiss of moonlight. Eyes that never left her dreams—one midnight blue, the other warm brown. The careless raise of painted brows, a predatory tilt of his long neck. And thin, mocking lips that felt as much hers as his own. Oh yes, her mind chanted, she knew him very well. And yet she had so much more to learn.
A tilt of his head. A smirk of his lips. He was pleased. "I have been waiting for you, precious. Waiting far too long. Lost yourself in our castle again, have you?"
Was that where I'd been? Sarah furrowed her brow slightly. She did remember walking down the halls.
A ghost of a smile. "Tsk, tsk, my dear. Why wander when I can give you everything you desire?" He clicked his tongue at her, calling forth a glowing crystal. "Here, now, and forever."
Yes, why Sarah? Surely there was a reason, right?
The crystal popped, scattering light like dust, and Sarah opened her eyes to see the room littered with similar bright orbs, posing as candles in the shadows. Sarah's jaw dropped as she drank in the sight and all she could think was if this is how he looked in candlelight, she'd never face day again. Predatory, enticing, seductive. He was circling her in slow steps now, eying her like a starving man eyes a steak, and Sarah was suddenly aware of how much she wanted to be his steak. Her stomach gave a lurch.
Right?
Feeling faint, she raised her arm to lean against the dresser, and grimaced when she felt a bite of pain. It still hadn't healed from….Sarah trailed off. She couldn't seem to remember how she'd injured it. Sarah frowned, unsettled by the peculiar gaps in her memory. Even in this beauty, something was decidedly not right.
"Allow me, precious", he hummed into her ear, sliding beside her. He pushed up her sleeve with the sweep of a gloved hand, and began kneading the tender skin with a hum of warmth. Sarah tensed, but he shushed her with a silky caress. "Sarah, relax."
It was the way he said her name that did it, dripping from his lips like molten gold, and Sarah felt her shoulders drop in pleasure, worries forgotten. She felt him grin into her neck and further his ministrations. His hands were like magic, rubbing slow circles into the muscle, pushing and pulsing with a power that sent fire down her spine. He was far too good with his hands. Those long, lovely, wonderful hands, which she decided could rub her anytime, anywhere, if only to feel the spark of his touch. Her eyes fluttered, and she let them close as he caressed a particularly sore spot. Oh god, what those hands could do.
"There now, that wasn't so difficult, hmm?"
"Mhmm," she moaned, unable to process words. She was clearly past all rational thought; such sinful pleasures existed only in the wild depths of the mind, or the devil's fantasies. It was too perfect to be real.
Sarah fluttered her lids again as the perfect hands disappeared from her skin. No, don't stop. Please, don't stop.
"Never," he agreed silkily. And then his hands were back on her skin, singing with a new magic. Skin on skin, fire on fire, twins reunited by touch.
Oh, gods. No. Gloves. She was barely coherent as he moved from her shoulder to her neck, parting her hair like a velvet curtain and holding her attention there for far too long.
Ohhhhhhhhhh…Jareth.
"Turn around Sarah," he whispered into her ear. "Just turn around and all your dreams come true."
It was so tempting. So very, very tempting to have all ones dreams granted with a whisper. Sarah had dreams; beautiful, wonderful dreams of being on stage, pleasing audiences, ears ringing with applause. The thought flickered from nowhere. On stage? That couldn't be right.
"Turn around Sarah," he begged, trailing kisses across her neck, "let me please you."
She turned, for how could she not? Not when his words commanded obedience and dripped of dark promise. She caught his eyes, deep and shining with desire, and then she saw no more for his lips had captured hers and not even Samson could have pried them open.
His kiss began softly; not at all like before, and yet just as distracting. Tender enough to be a lover, yet with a passion she knew was heavily restrained, he caressed her lips as if she was breakable china and she was teetering off the edge. Which, Sarah sighed in ecstasy, was far from fiction. She was thankful he had moved his arms behind her neck and across her back or she was certain she'd have fallen to the floor in a million pieces. Especially when he decided that she wasn't going to break, and upped his ferocity.
Once, twice, his teeth nipped her bottom lip, testing her will. Luckily for him, it was long gone. She gave in immediately, responding with enthusiasm as his tongue slid past her lips to tangle in her own. It was if she'd swallowed white hot fire, waves of heat rippling down her body to fill her toes. Sinful. Intoxicating. Indescribable. She moaned, voice thick with desire. Louder the next time; two wild animals in the heat of the moment. Their tongues danced in passion until Sarah felt something thud into her calves. The bed, she realized vaguely, and then she was bouncing down onto her back into the soft folds.
The sudden shift caught her attention, and she snapped her eyes open. Jareth hovered over her, hands on either side of her body like a cage, grinning wolfishly. Sarah froze, understanding his intentions and an ounce of sense trickled into her mind. "Jareth," she gasped, "wait, I've never…we…can't…"
"Let me love you, sweet Sarah. Please."
She opened her mouth, but no words came out, and he took the chance to capture her lips once again, renewing his promise to make every bit of Sarah his own. Only then, would she truly be his; body, mind, and soul. Sarah's protests ceased. There was nothing more to life than the king; her gorgeous, powerful, seductive king. He was all she'd ever wanted, and would ever want for again.
In an imperceptible motion, he banished his boots, cloak, and creamy white poet's shirt, until he was poised over her in nothing but breeches. Sarah allowed herself a moment to ogle his pale chest, fingers tracing the thin line of blond hair that disappeared into his pants. His eyes darkened, and he started tugging at Sarah's own tunic as if it was vile. "Wretched thing," he smirked.
Grinning, she pushed him off her and began shimmying out of the foul garment. The weight of it now burned her skin, keeping her chained against her will and apart from all rationality. In an instant, his hands were running up and down her bare sides, sending goose bumps across the tender flesh and moving to unhook the last offending scrap of clothing.
"Oh gods, Jareth." She arched her back sharply.
"Enough! This has gone on far too long, girl. I knew you'd been lying to us all," the icy voice came from nowhere. "Your Game is over."
It was enough to startle a crowd, let alone two occupants, and Sarah stilled. What? What Game? Bothered by the intrusion, she pushed Jareth off her, intending to give the owner of the voice a piece of her mind so she could return to her soon to be lover. He growled warningly at her shove.
"Go away; can't you see we're busy?" She didn't even notice her indecency, leering at the newcomer in only a bra and breeches.
"I should have known!" he chuckled, moving towards them, "The one sin you mortals can never see past."
As the figure came into the crystal lights, a flash of recognition hit Sarah. She knew this other man. Not nearly as well as her king, but she definitely knew this king in passing.
King? She frowned. Was he a king?
She eyed Jareth out of the corner of her eye, looking for backup, but he was still as stone. Almost as if he'd been…paused. But that was silly; he clearly must just be concentrating on the moment. Planning retaliation. Yes, that was it. He'd never desert her. Here, now, and forever…
"You have no right to disrupt my Game, foolish king."
It was a different voice; agitated and low. Sarah turned back towards Jareth, but it was clear he hadn't spoken. He was blank, expressionless, and fuzzy around the edges, as though he were a parched man's mirage. She quickly flicked her gaze back to the second king, hoping he'd taken the hint and left. Perhaps that explained his silence. But her eyes caught something else first; something not quite human.
It was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. Almost as if it was a shape from a dream or distant memory. White, shimmering, and powerful; there but not quite real. It gave Sarah an indescribable look and spoke again.
"You have no business here."
The king looked affronted, but kept his words polite. "I meant the Labyrinth and Game no disrespect. I only assumed that the rules were absolute and that girl," he pointed a finger, "has flouted them!"
"Dangerous assumptions, king," the shadow kept its voice low, "very dangerous." Quickly, it turned towards Sarah. "Tell me, Sarah Williams, have you used magic to defeat a fellow heir? Bypass a stage?" At her questioning stare, the shape answered for her. "Your answer is a certain no, king. Or have you no faith in my ability to monitor my own creation?" The words were laced with anger.
"Not on her first run. To allow such mockery, and let an advantaged runner compete! Mortal, at that!" He stomped a boot angrily. "She must be disqualified!"
The shimmer's silvery eyes narrowed. "You wish to condemn her to non-existence?"
"I must keep order! Orion knows what catastrophes might arise if such is disregarded."
The shape swayed in the air, giving Sarah one final glance, as if her face held all the answers to the dilemma. It took but a second. "It is necessary she finish the Game," spoke the shimmer firmly. "She must finish."
Sarah was missing something; now she was damn certain of it. She listened warily to the two beings arguing over stages and some game and rules without understanding why such strange ideas were keeping her from her love. The same love who was fading further and further into thin air. She yelped, trying to grab him, but all her fingers caressed was the ghost of his outline.
That was it. Sarah snapped, "Excuse me, but this is my room. Could you both get out of my castle?"
Quick as lightning, the shadow flashed across the room and stopped inches from the foot of the bed. It was hard to make out the expression on its face, but Sarah's subconscious saw interest and was that satisfaction? Yes, Sarah decided, the shape was amused. But why? What did she say?
Sarah swallowed under the weight of its gaze. It was rather unnerving; she wasn't sure why yelling at a figure would make it happy. Angry, undoubtedly. But this, she had no response to.
"Your castle? As in, Jareth's castle?" The shape cracked a smirk. "Do tell how you assume it yours as well."
"Jareth said—"
The shape growled, apparently expecting a different answer. "He says many things, most of which you ignore and the rest of which you defy. You are intriguing to be sure, but such is not enough to share his Kingdom." It let out a frustrated sigh. "Particularly when your head is clouded with empty lust."
That wasn't true. With all the uncertainties floating through Sarah's head, her love for the Goblin King was clear. It wasn't a thought, it was a feeling; an emotional certainty. She couldn't recall ever not loving him, but if there was such a time, it must have been a decidedly vacant existence. She opened her mouth to protest, but the bang of her door flying open stopped her mid-phrase.
"But I lo—"
She should have completed the line then, indeed it would have saved her a great deal of trouble, but Sarah's mind couldn't process what she was seeing. Him. Her king. Standing panicked within her room, eyes wide and searching. Searching for her. Those eyes found their target, and the king let out a stiff sigh of relief.
"Sarah."
"Jareth? But you're…" she sought her bed companion, but he had completely vanished, "…here?"
The unknown king laughed. "Yes, Jareth. I should have realized you'd only show under such circumstances."
"Enough, Cael. Leave Sarah out of this," the King of Goblins growled, taking two steps in the other king's direction.
Cael? The name was on the tip of her tongue. The High King!
"Responsibility must be taken, Jareth. I will not allow her to usurp laws thousands of years into their existence." He gave the shimmer a purposeful glance. "You will disqualify the girl."
Jareth cut in before the shimmer could respond. "Damn it Cael, you cannot blame her for this!" He turned his eyes to the shape next, seemingly begging it to understand. But all he was met with was a tilt of a glowing head and a crease of silver lips. If they communicated a message, it was beyond Sarah's comprehension. She was barely comprehending the voices.
She was trying to understand, really she was, but the whole scene felt rushed. There were too many people in the room. Too many faces. She had to get out. But she couldn't get out.
Another flash of recognition and Sarah's heart thudded against her ribs. She had been trying to get out of something else. Trying to complete something, needing to tell someone something…
"Then who will take the blame? The denizens of the Underground? I myself, for not uncovering this sooner? Or perhaps I should return to my original plan and out your role in all this. Proposing to a mortal…" he shook his head to clear the offensive thought, "the very idea is unthinkable!"
For a moment, all that could be heard in the room were ragged breaths. Cael, face red from anger. Jareth, a panicked whoosh of nerves. And Sarah, taking in a gasp of understanding.
Proposing?
She remembered that now, even so far into the past. A peach, a dance, a proclamation of love. Him, draped in white, proposing to her as if one 'yes' was the most important word in the world. But she'd chosen different words.
The wrong words.
How naïve she'd been. But that could be corrected, she realized excitedly. He was here, now, begging to save her. This was her chance to fix everything, and she'd be damned if she fucked it up again. Whatever it took, she would put this right. She creased her brow, thinking. Now, what exactly had he said? Fear, love…being a slave….
"Then blame me, Cael," Jareth growled low before she could speak, "but you will allow her to finish." He gave a resigned sigh. "She, who holds my heart and magic for eternity."
"Magic?" His words hit the High King like a thunderbolt. "You didn't."
Jareth stood silent, eyes cold but telling.
"Love and magic…? The Labyrinth's decay, the regeneration…" Cael spun towards the Goblin King, all questions answered, "You could have damned us all." He rushed at him, eyes ablaze and hands sparking.
Sarah heard none of this, too busy forming her lines. She had one chance at this. One single, all important chance. And god help her, she was ready. She willed a crystal to form, unsurprised when it appeared instantly; her love was now without doubt. The light within flashed a brilliant gold.
"STOP!" she rose from the bed and shivered, suddenly aware of her state of dress. Embarrassing, but unimportant, even as Jareth's eyes flamed. She knew she had his attention, though. Half-dressed, crystal flaring, steps determined, she made an obvious step towards Jareth.
Her voice was just as clear. "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way to the castle beyond the Goblin City…"
The reactions were immediate. The Labyrinth eyed her appraisingly, somehow understanding her intentions. Cael was frozen solid, eyes wide; it didn't matter how. Rules and promises be damned, the shimmer smirked. She was worthy.
"…to return to where my heart was stolen."
Jareth stopped breathing.
Her voice softened as she reached him. "You asked me once to fear you, love you, and do as you said. You told me you'd be my slave." She swallowed, heart pounding. "I didn't understand then, but I understand now."
He took the offered crystal without a word, unable to form more than a strangled cough in his throat. He had to be hallucinating, he thought wildly, the dark look in Sarah's eyes was a scene from a dream. Had the world fallen down?
"You promised me mornings of gold and valentine evenings," she whispered. "Lovely gifts. But I don't want them."
"Sarah—," he choked out, questioning.
She tilted her head and smiled, moving to touch his cheek. "I only want you." Then her hands were around his neck and her lips whispered one last line into his.
"I love you."
The world fell down.
As she captured his lips, the room gave a drunken lurch and a flicker of magic. Shapes swirled like watercolors; indistinguishable from their neighbor and bright like neon lights. And gravity ceased to exist. Sarah clutched onto Jareth as the floor dropped beneath her, leaving them suspended mid-air in a swirl of wind and light and a whoosh of satisfaction. Kisses and returned caresses; the Goblin King was nothing if not generous. And still, the world fell.
There was a sudden rush of magic, jumping back and forth the pair quicker than a glance, and the warm whisper of the Labyrinth. Night became day, crystals became bulging eyes, and the neon muted as the shimmer pulled forth the scene, still humming in satisfaction. The effect was startling, particularly since it echoed of déjà vu, but before the familiar mass could comment on the shape, it returned to its hidden form. Its delivery, however, remained.
It is a rare thing to find an opposite so perfect as to distract from reality, but for Jareth and Sarah, such was proved possible. Neither noticed the gust, the colors, or the shift. If they'd had, both would have likely passed out from sensation overload. But as it was, both were blissfully oblivious. And deeply occupied.
Until some foul creature had the nerve to cough.
Sarah regrettably pulled back, desire still flooding her eyes. "Wow."
Jareth couldn't help it; he threw his head back and laughed. Never before had his life seemed so perfect and he felt completely at ease. "Wow indeed." And he smiled a dazzling smile, ignoring the gasps and mumbling crowd. "I believe we have some things to discuss?" He gave her a once over, and conjured up an ivory tunic which he offered, regrettably, to her. Sarah pulled it on, blushing a hundred shades of red.
"Perhaps after the formalities are addressed, Jareth," a warm feminine voice interrupted, "the Lady Sarah's presence is required one final time."
"Certainly Amarette," Jareth bowed, "I believe we both owe you a great deal of gratitude."
She smiled and winked. "I have no idea what you could possibly mean. I've done nothing but enjoy the Game. Lady Sarah?" She waved her forward, ignoring Jareth's obvious frustration. Moments later, he melted into the crowd.
"Did I win?" Sarah raised her voice to be heard.
"You did very well." She guided Sarah through the throng of admirers. "Even when most bet against you."
Sarah's heart gave a little jolt. It was over. She had won. "Thanks, but I can't take all the credit."
Amarette gave her a knowing glance, but said nothing.
"Oh! Hey, actually, I need to talk to you about this whole kingdom thing. I ahh, I don't want it. Not that it's not a great prize and all," she justified hurriedly, "but I can't possibly rule a kingdom I know nothing about."
She gave a low laugh, murmuring "An easy request to grant. You will not be given a kingdom Lady Sarah—"
"Just Sarah."
"Sarah then." She shook her head, amused. "But your misplaced concern is charming."
"Pardon?"
But Amarette maintained her silence, pointing instead at the dais where the High King and Queen usually sat. The two chairs were occupied. And although neither held their intended occupant, Sarah found the new guests a far more welcoming sight. A fabulous, heart-fluttering, unimaginable sight.
"Sarah!"
Sarah sucked in a gasp of breath. Was that…?
"It is you! We thought that, well, it doesn't matter, you finished!"
And Sarah saw them. Really saw them. A girl, a good foot shorter than herself, draped in the palest pink, grinning wider than a river. And seated next to her, lanky, smirking and dressed in cobalt blue was the boy. It was incomprehensible.
If she had won, how were Rosalyn and Flynn alive and out of the Labyrinth?
"Rosalyn…? Flynn? But…how? Can't only one win?" Her heart felt ready to burst. Surely this was all too good to be true.
"Who said we all won? Apparently these days, winning isn't everything." And she grinned again, jumping at Sarah. "It's so good to see you."
"Mhmph," Sarah's gut gave a lurch at the unexpected hug, "you too. Both of you! But what happened? Did you pass lust? Both of you?" She flicked between their faces, looking for a clue.
"Err. Funny story, actually." And was that a blush from Flynn? "Seems like it was an all or nothing task."
"All or nothing…? Oh!" She finally noticed that Rosalyn's color also matched her garb, and smiled. "That's great. I'm so happy for you guys!"
Flynn gave his customary nervous laugh, and Rosalyn whacked him on the back. "Thank you, Sarah."
Sarah decided she had never seen a more endearing couple.
"So, who won then? There still is a kingdom, right?"
"Of course, Lady Sarah," Amarette chuckled behind her, "patience." She turned to the crowd and amplified her voice to fill the arena. "Bidders! Watchers! Denizens of the Underground! Welcome to the coronation of our Game. My husband is currently detained for the moment," she paused, "but until he returns, I will conduct these most unusual proceedings."
The hall, thousands and thousands of Fae and all, fell silent.
Amarette continued. "Never before have we had multiple runners emerge from our Game. And never before have two of our runners completed the final task in unison." She hushed a few murmurs. "Nonetheless, the rules stand that the victor receive the prize. It is therefore the agreement of the council that in the event of the tie, both runners claim rights to the Ocean Kingdom." She motioned for the pair on the dais to kneel. "Lady Rosalyn, Lord Flynn. My congratulations on your victory and blessings be towards your kingdom."
The applause was deafening. Sarah caught Rosalyn's smile before she was shuttled out of the way, seemingly forgotten. Bidders and observers were rushing the new leaders like a devoted mob and Sarah caught at least two jabs to the gut in the process.
Figures. But she really didn't care. She was done.
"Don't think you are forgotten, precious. I do believe we have some unfinished business to discuss. And I have just been informed about a deal with my Labyrinth." Jareth appeared from nowhere, whispering low in her ear. His tone was concerned, but curious. Clearly, the Labyrinth didn't share everything with its keeper.
Sarah turned and gave him a wary smile. She had forgotten about that little detail. "Oh…right." She offered her hand, and he took it, placing a light kiss on her wrist before vanishing them both in warm light.
I not profess to be an expert on 'lust', but I hope I did this pivotal scene justice. Any comments are appreciated!
Reviews are love and keep me writing. Only 1-2 chapters to go...next update in about a week!