Jareth gestured towards the hall. Sarah froze for a moment; did she really just agree to stay at the Castle beyond the Goblin City? The Goblin Keep? Her feet wouldn't move.
"Would you like to sleep out here?" he asked with a smirk.
"No." Sarah didn't have a retort and forced her feet to move. She headed inside, and Jareth sauntered up next to her, offering an arm.
"The last time I took your arm, I was under the influence and you tried to kiss me."
He said nothing, yet the smirk did not leave his face.
They crossed the hall together. Jareth opened the lone door. It creaked in its large, oaken frame, complaining of some ancient ailment that the castle and its master had already forgotten. When Sarah stepped through, expecting a hallway, she yelped and flailed her arms. Instead of a hallway, Sarah found herself on a small platform overlooking a chasm below—a chasm that plunged into the Escher room. Her toes hung over the edge of the platform and her arms spun in circles like two propellers as she tried to catch her balance. Her yelp choked as the neck of her hoodie jerked against her throat and her body was yanked backwards.
"You should really watch where you're going," said Jareth, his hand still clutching the red hood.
Sarah jerked away from him. "You know, I was about to say thank you, but your continued remarks have me feeling less than grateful." Jareth simply shrugged, still smirking.
"This way," he said, turning to his right and descending down a staircase that Sarah was certain hadn't been there before.
Sarah followed him, shuffling her feet and muttering a subdued curse. When she ran these staircases in pursuit of Toby, the disappearing seconds of her thirteen hours had been the only thing she could focus on. Now, the lack of banisters and handrails sent her heart into her throat. She gulped and glanced over her left shoulder; one wrong step, and she'd disappear over the ledge of the staircase. She kept her hand running along the wall to her right, happily accepting the false security it gave her and glad that the stairs ran flush against the wall.
When they turned under a stone archway, Sarah breathed out a sigh of relief, happy to leave the tippy, trippy room. When they crossed the threshold, Sarah gasped; they emerged in the Escher room once again—only this time they were upside down.
"You'll get used to it," said Jareth, monotone.
"I won't be here long enough to need to get used to it," Sarah said, more to herself than to him.
Jareth led her along pathways that twisted and turned in and out of the room until they came upon a red door. It opened to a short, narrow stairwell that disappeared around a curve. The hair on the back of Sarah's neck stood up even before she heard the commotion coming from up ahead; she didn't like where this was going. Jareth looked over his shoulder to make sure Sarah was still there. When he extended a hand to her, she recoiled, pulling her hands up to her chest. Jareth's expression remained unchanging, yet her aversion hurt his heart.
"Your eyes can be so cruel," he thought to himself. He continued on.
As Sarah tiptoed around the curling staircase, the cacophony of sounds rose to a roar, and a foul smell seemed to explode in her nostrils.
The throne room was just as dusty and hay-covered as Sarah remembered. Goblins of every shape and size rolled around the floor and hung off the walls. Two taller goblins were replacing the ale cask, now presumably empty, with one that they moved with some difficulty. The massive, thirteen-hour clock on the wall was the only thing that remained spotless. Its two hands said it was almost thirteen o'clock, whatever that actually meant.
The Goblins eyed her with mixed reactions of confusion, animosity, and indifference. A few stared with puzzled looks upon their faces. One goblin whispered to a chicken that he would've swore he'd seen the human before. Others raised spears and slingshots in apprehension, waiting to see if the king would give them any orders. Most continued on talking and playing—if you could call launching chicken eggs at each other playing.
Jareth did not stop to acknowledge his subjects, but a few bowed as he passed through. Sarah hugged her arms around herself and kept as close as she could to Jareth. She didn't want to get in the path of a flying egg—or a sharp set of teeth. After they passed through the only other doorway in and out of the room, they descended a wide sets of stairs before Jareth stopped abruptly. Sarah forgot she had been walking so close and slammed into his back. Jareth spun around and eyed her intensely; was he angry? He placed a hand flat against her sternum and pushed her against the wall.
Sarah squealed. "What are you—"
"Ssssh" he hissed. Sarah tried to swat his hand away from her, still protesting.
"Hush I say!" he half-yelled half-whispered. His other hand shot up and covered her mouth. Sarah's heart raced. "Listen," he said quietly.
It was hard to hear anything over the pounding of her own heart, but she thought she could hear something ascending the stairs towards them. Jareth's mismatched eyes narrowed in concentration. He turned his head to look for whatever was coming towards them.
Pouncing up the stairs like a cat was a humanoid creature with greenish skin. Its glossy, protruding eyes that seemed too large for its head were a monocolor shade of charcoal gray. Its ears were large and pointed. The thing gave another awkward leap, making it look like a frog more than a cat, and cleared several stairs. Only a few stairs separated them and the creature below them. It turned its head towards them; Sarah could read nothing in its blank expression. It looked up the hallway again and nodded its head up and down in a feline manner, measuring the space for its next jump. It gave a grunt and pounced, sailing by them with inhuman strength. Once it disappeared out of sight, Jareth uncovered Sarah's mouth.
"A ghoul. One of the goblins must've let it in. They won't bother us, but it's best not to test them, especially when they're hungry."
"We could've been eaten?!" Sarah cried, her voice still a whisper.
"Oh no. They only eat deceased flesh," replied Jareth matter-of-factly, still looking up the staircase after the ghoul.
"As if that's any better. It could've just unalived me and then tucked in for supper."
"Well, it would've had to wait until decomposition began. Their bodies need the bacteria that forms in the face of decay in order to survive; that's why they prefer to scavenge. They're not so bad, once you get to—" Jareth's voice caught in his throat as he looked back at Sarah. His eyes locked onto hers. The deep green of Sarah's gemstone eyes mesmerized him, as if two precious jaspers plunged him into a trance.
"…know them," he finished, still hypnotized.
Sarah gulped. The nearness of his body pressing into hers was almost searing. Her heart raced, but not from the encounter with a ghoul. Even without his crystals, his mismatched eyes were magical enough. Sarah didn't know why, but something drew her eyes to his mouth. His upper lip was a perfect cupids bow, and his lower lip seemed to glitter under the opaque gloss that adorned it. Jareth brought his face closer to hers, as if drawn by a magnet.
Sarah cleared her throat and slowly lifted his hand off of her chest.
"Thank you, your majesty. I'll be sure to steer clear of any ghouls. And try to keep my distance from ghosts and goblins and other such ghastliness as well, for that matter."
Jareth seemed to snap out of his trance. "Don't mention it. And please, just Jareth is fine. You are not one of my subjects." He turned on his heal and continued down the stairs.
The next floor appeared to be the living quarters for the goblins, apparent by the several passing in and out of the now spacious stairwell. As they descended onto the floor after that, Jareth finally came to a stop. "Here we are. I believe you'll be most comfortable in the East wing." And with that, he plunged ahead down another corridor. It was then Sarah realized how tired she felt. In her mind's clock, she figured it was almost midnight. Her feet ached, her shoulders began to droop, and her eyelids felt heavy. She followed the king, hoping there were no more stairs.
Her hopes were realized as the corridor ended at a large, intricately carved door. Dark brown flowers and vines adorned the wood, and a tiny peephole was placed at eye level.
"I've magicked the rooms ready, please let me know if anything is not to your liking." With that, the door swung itself open.
Beyond the door lay a room so splendid, Sarah was sure she must be dreaming. The large bedroom seemed even larger with its high, wooden ceilings. A massive four-poster bed hung with curtains of green was pushed against the far wall. At its foot lie the pelt of what was possibly a giant lion. Sarah couldn't help but skitter into the room and explore; it was all she could do to not giggle. Banners and tapestries hung on the walls, each bearing the insignia of the Labyrinth in Grecian fashion. There was an archway to the right and a closed door to the left. Sarah chose right. The small archway opened into a short hallway. Sarah turned left and found herself in a bathroom. A large, glass tub sat snuggled in the corner, and in the opposite wall was a frosted glass window. All manner of vials were organized on a stone shelf adjacent to the tub. Sticking halfway out of the wall next to the shelf glinted one of Jareth's crystals.
"Touch that," Jareth said from behind her, "and a waterfall of warm water will fall from the ceiling." Sarah looked up to see several nickel-sized holes in a large square stone inlaid into the wood of the ceiling. The rest of the bathroom was outfitted with a glass sink, cabinet full of towels and assorted cotton products, small stool, and of course latrine.
Sarah went to explore the other end of the hallway and found Jareth leaning in the archway.
"Did you make all this for me?" Sarah asked before entering into a room she could only describe as a study.
"No, most of it was already here. The shower feature is the only new addition in these quarters," he replied. Sarah was still impressed.
The study was small and simple. A dainty writing desk and wooden chair to the right, to the left an arm chair and round coffee table on a single leg with three claw-shaped feet. A small, wooden bookcase had also been set in the room, but to Sarah's dismay there were no books upon it. Sarah strode to the writing desk, on which a quill and bottle of ink sat. She picked up the quill, but no ink dripped from its tip. A few, black flakes began to chip off.
"Oh, sorry about that. Try it again," said Jareth, now standing in the study doorway When Sarah dipped and lifted the quill once more, a thick, viscous drop of ink hung like a last leaf of autumn. In her shock, Sarah stared and paid no attention to whether or not the drop would fall. She yelped as it loosed itself from the quill and fell towards the desk. As it hit the old, gray-brown wood, it turned into a tiny bubble and floated towards Jareth. He wrapped his hand around it; when he opened his fist, a tiny crystal no bigger than a marble sat nested in his palm.
"Sorry about that," Sarah said sheepishly. He smiled and tossed it to her. She caught it awkwardly but stuffed it into her pocket. "Is it nice, having magic? Using magic?" Sarah asked as Jareth moved out of her way when she pushed past. He followed her into the bedroom.
"Yes and no. It's instinctual; sometimes I use it before I even realize I'm using it. It's part of me. Yet sometimes, I can't help but wish I relied on myself more."
"Magic is yourself, I think. At least part of yourself," said Sarah. She looked across the room to the other door, taking in the space around her.
To the right and left of the bed sat two nightstands, each of which had a brass oil lamp sitting on top. The wooden box canopy over the bed, from which hung forest-green curtains, was engraved and painted with barn owls and flower-blooms resembling the ones on the Labyrinth gates. The four posts were intricately carved, swirling and curling down towards the bed like cascading waterfalls. The rug at the foot of the bed was massive; Sarah didn't know lions ever got that big. As if reading her mind, Jareth walked over to the fur and toed at the mane.
"Manticore," he said. One of the previous runners actually slayed the beast. I thought it was a nice touch."
"A manticore?!" Sarah said in disbelief. Sarah didn't want to be rude, but her eyes widened in shock. She wasn't sure how she felt about having the slain beast in the bedroom. Regardless, she walked up to the rug and placed the toe tips of her shoes onto it, smiling at Jareth. "Thank you."
He smiled. "You haven't even seen the best part of your chambers yet."
With an uncharacteristic pep in his step (according to Sarah, who had never seen the king break out into a magic dance with his goblins), the king turned and practically skipped to the door in the opposite wall. Sarah chuckled and followed, wondering what could make the king so excited. Jareth opened the door and stood to the side, falling into a deep and gracious bow. Sarah giggled and gave a quick curtesy before crossing into the room. When she did, her jaw fell open in shock.
To her left towered a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf absolutely jam-packed with books. Books of every color, books of every size…the ceiling high above her was even decorated in tapestries woven with the image of books. The room although narrow was wide, the kind of cozy that came when a space was small but not cramped. To Sarah's left was the bookshelf, and to the right were two, voluptuous armchairs, between which stood a small, circular table. Atop the table sat a lantern, but instead of a candle, a crystal occupied the small glass chamber. A plush carpet of forest greens, maroon, and gold covered the floor.
Sarah's feet moved of their own accord; she felt as though she floated towards the books. Her fingers reached out and grazed the spines of the novels.
"Uh huh…" agreed Sarah, her brain automatically responding to the noise she quickly noticed was Jareth's voice. "Wait, what?" she asked, returning to reality.
"I said there's probably not enough fiction for your taste, but there's certainly enough volumes of lore and legends to keep you occupied for at least a little while."
"Thank you," said Sarah. She turned as she spoke, smiling soft like the crystal glow. "Well, you know what I like to read. Do you like to read?"
A look of shock passed across Jareth's face. Apparently he wasn't used to questions into his likes and dislikes.
"I…do," he said, hesitant.
"What do you read?"
The king looked perplexed; Sarah nearly giggled, but gave the king time to think. "I like prose. Epics. Things of beauty as opposed to stories—not that I don't like stories. It's just that poetry and ballads take me away from everything more than the stories do."
Sarah raised her eyebrows. "Never took you for a Beowulf kinda guy. Good for you."
The right half of Jareth's mouth curved upward in an awkward smile. A little blush creeped up the Fae's pale neck, although it didn't reach his face. He gave a brisk shrug and quickly turned his face away. Sarah smiled wide; the king's embarrassment was adorable.
Jareth opened the door on the far wall, which opened onto a little balcony nook, just large enough for two chairs. The king sat down.
"Cozy," said Sarah, sitting down next to him and sinking into the hammock-like seats.
"It is, isn't it?" Jareth's voice sounded serene and far away. Sarah took deep breaths of fresh air and soaked in the moment of peace. The moment passed, and she remembered her predicament. Remembered that she was stuck. Remembered how very far away from Toby she found herself.
"I…don't know if it's any consolation," said Jareth, breaking into her worry-spell, "but I'm going to consult some texts and the Wiseman to see if there are any magical exceptions due to extenuating circumstances. For now, I'll leave you to rest. Goodnight, Sarah Williams." The king stood and gave a short bow.
"Goodnight, Ja—" Sarah's adieu was cut short as the king jumped up onto the metal railing and launched himself into the night. Sarah screamed.
The woosh of his cloak turned into a rustle of feathers, and Sarah watched as a barn owl swooped in a wide circle.
Sarah chuckled. "Dramatic. So, so dramatic."
~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~
I know I always say thank you for the likes and follows and such, but they really do mean so much to me—so thank you!
I hope y'all liked the little moment between Jareth and Sarah on the staircase. It also pains me that Sarah didn't get to see Magic Dance; do you think she was like, wtf when he started singing to her in the Escher room? xD
Idk why I always like to have a properly described, established living space in my stories. I just love being pulled into the Underground, and for me it helps my mind's eye.
