AN: It's a shame stats/alerts aren't working, but here is the next installment regardless! Forgive any sloppy typos/errors...did my best to work through it, but there's bound to be some mistakes.
Psychometry
Chapter Six
At the Altar of Beginnings and Endings
The first thing Sarah noticed upon opening her eyes was that she was not where she had last remembered being.
Looking around, she saw tall trees with their white trunks and bare branches standing sentinel. The grass beneath her feet was brittle and frostbitten. She was still dressed in the same clothes she had been wearing earlier, but strangely enough, didn't feel any sort of chill.
The world around her looked frozen in time, save for the slight rustle of wind every now and then, but it didn't seem to impact her.
Sarah drew in a deep breath and turned in a slow circle, trying to gain some clarity. She saw a small stream winding through the trees, the water a startling blue. Deciding she had no other means to find her bearings, Sarah began to follow the stream. Perhaps it would lead to some answers.
She didn't know how long she followed the gently twisting stream, but night was already falling. The bare branches of the trees provided no cover, allowing the glow of a full moon to light her way. If she hadn't been so confused, Sarah would've found the scenery tranquil. Lonely, but still beautiful.
Sarah stilled when she came across a singular figure crouched down by the stream on the other side. Judging by the smaller frame, Sarah assumed they were a woman. Walking closer, more details emerged. The woman was clothed in a simple dress with a cloak over it. Long, dark hair tumbled over a shoulder, with half of it pulled back by a ribbon. A small basket lay by her side while her hands were dipped in the stream. Sarah idly wondered how the water didn't freeze her.
As she neared the woman, Sarah was struck by two things: the woman didn't seem to notice her at all, and even more terrifying, Sarah had the sensation of staring in a mirror.
Because this woman seemed to look just like her as Sarah caught a glimpse of her face.
Tentatively, Sarah edged over to her, standing just across from her on the other side of the stream.
"Hello?"
The woman ignored her, or rather, didn't seem to hear her in the first place, confirming Sarah's suspicions that she wasn't exactly physically existing here. The thought should've worried her more than it did, but all she could focus on was the fact that this woman looked so much like her. There were some slight differences, but only the kinds of differences one could know by looking at their own face in the mirror every day. That, and her clothing appeared dated, but it was still simplistic enough to be current and plus, it was hard to make out much detail in the dark, even with the moonlight.
But otherwise, there was no mistaking that this was…her.
Sarah had just started to take a step further, deciding that breaching the small stream wouldn't freeze her underprepared feet given that she didn't feel the cold anyway, but stopped when she heard the pounding of hooves and the baying of hounds and shrill cries.
Her heart thudded in her chest, and she turned to look for a place to hide or run, belatedly realizing that it wouldn't matter - no one seemed capable of seeing or hearing her.
Sarah's doppelgänger also looked startled by the sounds, ensuring Sarah wasn't going mad. She wanted to yell at her to get up and move, run for cover, but she knew it would be fruitless. Instead, she watched with dismay as her doppelgänger stood half crouched over the stream, torn between wanting to bolt and being frozen in fear.
"Move, damn it," Sarah hissed, instinctively knowing that if her doppelgänger did not move, something awful would happen.
The sounds grew louder, and Sarah could just make out the form of a group fast approaching.
And then they were upon her and her doppelgänger, a terrifying assortment of individuals. Sarah saw several black steeds with glowing eyes and armor upon their heads in the shape of twisting horns. Their riders astride them appeared no less menacing, with armor of black and silver and terrifying helms, each as macabre as the other. Emaciated hounds circled around them, snapping and yowling but moving no closer, as if still waiting for permission from their masters to lunge.
But the figure that drew Sarah's eyes the most was the one at the front, clearly in charge. He was arresting, with his polished armor and a helm that looked like that of some sort of owl, though its features were twisted and grotesque. His steed appeared larger than the others and was pure white, casting an otherworldly glow to him in the moonlight.
Sarah felt her lips slowly part in a mixture of fear and awe.
Her doppelgänger had finally risen to her feet, mouth set in a firm line and eyes narrowed shrewdly. Sarah didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified.
The leader of the pack dismounted his horse, and his lithe figure slowly approached her doppelgänger. He walked with the patience of a predator that knew it had already won. And Sarah would guess that he had, given that she didn't see any escape.
"Stay away from me," her doppelgänger's voice rang out, stronger than Sarah would've guessed, but she could still hear the small tremor of fear.
He appeared to as well as he gave a dark chuckle. "And pray tell, why would I take orders from you?"
The voice sounded familiar.
"I'll scream," her doppelgänger warned, backing away with what little distance was left between her feet and the icy stream.
"It will make this all the sweeter. And besides, who would hear you?"
In the next few moments, Sarah would later recall being unsure of how things had transpired so quickly. Her doppelgänger had dropped to her feet and flung the basket up at the man all in one fluid movement before she turned and ran, the commotion buying her the smallest of seconds to seize an opening for escape.
Sarah watched her sprint past and darted after. She wondered with incredulity just how insane her doppelgänger had to be.
The hellish troop was soon on their heels, and Sarah cursed under her breath, fighting to keep up. Her doppelgänger moved surprisingly quickly, deftly maneuvering around the trees and brush, not even stopping when the ribbon in her hair was violently ripped by an errant branch. Sarah tried her best to keep up, believing that whatever was about to play out, she needed to see. A small voice in the back of her mind told her it was imperative that she saw.
Sarah's doppelgänger eventually looped around behind a large tree trunk, and Sarah belatedly realized that the group had seemed to fade in the distance. She could still hear the hounds baying and the clanking of armor, but it was more distant. Sarah couldn't believe for a second that her doppelgänger had outrun that ghastly pack on foot.
Her doppelgänger appeared to think the same, for she remained hidden behind the tree, taking care to not make a sound. Sarah scanned the surrounding area, as if she could somehow warn her doppelgänger of any impending doom.
And then the soft clopping of hooves approached. Sarah turned to her left to see only the imposing leader atop his steed.
The leader looked as menacing as ever, even without his army to bolster him. Sarah held in a breath, terrified to make a sound even though she knew he wouldn't see or hear. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she found herself yelling at her doppelgänger to run. But of course she didn't hear her.
"Come out, dear. I know you're hiding."
Her doppelgänger remained resolutely mute, but even from across the way, Sarah could see her chest rapidly rising and falling.
And yet again, Sarah had to fight the strange sense of recognition she felt when hearing the leader speak. Why did it feel like she'd heard his voice before?
The area grew deathly quiet, and Sarah's doppelgänger couldn't resist peering around the tree to see what had happened. Sarah followed her gaze, surprised to find that the man no longer atop his steed or anywhere near it.
Sarah nearly shrieked as her doppelgänger did when she turned back around to find the man standing behind her.
"Stay away from me!" She snarled, clenching her fists tightly.
"You know that's not how this works."
"I don't give a rat's ass how you think it's supposed to work!"
"Such a dirty mouth for a charming girl."
Sarah didn't know whether to shout with surprised laughter or stand by in mute terror when her doppelgänger swiftly raised a hand to strike the man across the face. The slap, though hardly powerful, resounded in the quiet forest. For a moment, the earth appeared to stand still, and Sarah watched with bated breath, waiting for the man's reaction.
The seconds ticked by, and just when Sarah thought her doppelgänger would be killed then and there, the man let out a bark of laughter.
"Now that was unexpected!"
Her doppelgänger appeared equally confused by the turn of events, the stubborn resolve on her face ebbing away to cautious bemusement.
"I told you to stay away from me," she repeated, eyes glowing with intensity. Sarah found herself watching with awe, having once believed she herself had carried such boldness, but seeing this version of someone who was presumably her, she now knew she paled in comparison.
And it was also weird to compare herself to…her.
"And as I told you, that is not how this works. You were marked for the Wild Hunt. Every human in your world knows of it." He dipped his chin in consideration. "Which begs the question of why you were out all by yourself on the full moon. Surely you knew the risks?"
Her doppelgänger didn't reply, staring only with stony silence. But Sarah wondered if fear spiked her heart, if her pulse raged as wildly as her own.
"You can come willingly or be dragged by my horse, it makes no difference to me. The labyrinth requires its offering."
Sarah started at hearing the word labyrinth. She had a growing sense of dread, that the masked figure standing before her was someone she was well acquainted with.
Her doppelgänger remained silent but slowly raised her hands to grip either side of the winged owl helm. With a sureness that Sarah would've never possessed, her doppelgänger raised the helm off and let it tumble to the forest floor by their feet, discarded.
The dread Sarah felt finally solidified, like a stone plummeting to the bottom of her stomach.
Jareth.
Her heartbeat quickened, and she wished more than anything that she could grab her doppelgänger's hand and run. She had to save her, save herself. Do the one thing she couldn't do before.
But over and over she was reminded of how powerless she was to intervene.
"At least show your face if you're to make such a bold demand. Otherwise, I'd think you a coward," she said, her words cutting despite how softly they fell from her lips.
Sarah watched the two figures stare at each other, and feeling helplessly voyeuristic, she ambled closer to inspect the pair. She was horrified but unsurprised all the same to see her doppelgänger looking into Jareth's eyes with a sort of trance-like quality, as if they alone opened portals to things beyond her comprehension.
Sarah knew the feeling much to her annoyance.
"Trust me when I say that in all my years of existence, I haven't yet met prey that fights back. Not like this." He regarded her silently. "How…interesting," his lip curled into a half-smirk. But Sarah saw the curiosity in his inhuman eyes spark bright. She couldn't help but wonder if the threat had subsided. If perhaps he would take pity.
But then the baying of the hounds and the storming hooves broke the spell.
Her doppelgänger gasped, pushing against his chest while turning around to peer behind the tree in the direction of the incoming troop.
"You don't have to do this," she turned back to look at Jareth, and her facade of bravery had finally crumbled, the fear unmistakably laid bare.
He watched her impassively, but Sarah could still see the embers of curiosity in his gaze. She held her breath, knowing time was limited.
Jareth knelt down and grabbed his helm, placing it back upon his head.
"Run before I change my mind."
Her doppelgänger stood there stupidly for a moment, as if she couldn't believe her plea had worked. And then sense finally took over and urged her to run. She bolted, never once looking back.
Sarah was torn between following her doppelgänger and watching Jareth.
Before she could decide, she saw Jareth slowly pull out a ribbon from his pocket, studying it intently. He then tucked it away as soon as the rest of his hunting party had entered the clearing.
Sarah felt the edges of her vision begin to cloud and the scene before her growing murky, distorted. She felt her panic rising but didn't know how to stop what was happening.
As quickly as her vision faded, it came back to reveal a completely different scene.
She found herself inside the confines of what felt like Jareth's palace. Sarah looked down the hallway to her left, sconces casting a soft glow, and found her doppelgänger once more pressed up against a set of double doors. Sarah pursed her lips and approached, realizing that she appeared to be eavesdropping on a conversation in the room beyond.
She couldn't understand why her doppelgänger was inside Jareth's palace, and furthermore, why she wasn't dead yet. In fact, casting a more scrutinizing look, Sarah found her doppelgänger to be dressed much less plainly than the first time she saw her. Her dress, while nothing ostentatious, was elegant and made of cloth that would've fetched a high price, and her hair was pinned back in certain spots with hairpieces that looked like twinkling stars.
But Sarah didn't dwell on the confusing optics, instead choosing to also press her ear against the doors. Whatever it was, her doppelgänger seemed greatly concerned.
Inside, Sarah could hear two male voices, one which she now recognized unmistakably as Jareth, while the other she couldn't identify, though a tiny thought in the back of her mind whispered that she knew who he was.
"I want to trust your judgment, Jareth, I do - believe me!" The unknown voice emphasized at Jareth's scoff. "But the labyrinth expects its payment. What is the purpose of the Wild Hunt if we shirk our responsibilities?"
"I'm well aware of my responsibilities. Perhaps you should concern yourself with your own," Jareth hissed in response.
Sarah could only assume the tension in the room was tightening, like a rope around one's neck, slowly cutting off air.
"Of all creatures in the world, Jareth…really? Her? You'd risk the livelihood of the realm you rule all over some common human whore?"
Sarah instantly felt like a whip had been lashed against her, and she instinctively looked over to her doppelgänger who mirrored the same emotions. She looked stricken, her cheeks blooming red with what Sarah could only guess was a mixture of anger and humiliation. Sarah wanted to console her, to console herself, because truly, no one had ever spoken like that about her. At least, not that she knew of. And it felt rotten.
The sound of a loud thud reverberated through the doors, and Sarah gasped, taking a halting step back. Her doppelgänger's eyes widened in response, but she remained pressed against the door, and so Sarah returned to her own post, waiting with trepidation for what would come next.
"Do not ever speak of her in that way," Jareth hissed. The only reply was a muffled grunt. "I am patient - exceptionally so - but even I have my limits and even you are not beyond reproach." A beat of silence passed. "Do not forget that."
The other man gave a cough in response, leading Sarah to assume Jareth had made his point both figuratively and literally.
She didn't know whether to feel grateful or sickened by these turn of events. On the one hand, Jareth had vehemently rounded on whoever had spoken so crassly about her, but on the other, it was Jareth defending her. The Jareth she knew would never do such a thing. Antagonize, kidnap, threaten…those were acts she knew him capable of.
But the way he spoke now was as if he knew her…as if he cared.
And that didn't sit well with Sarah at all.
"Believe me, I will take care of this problem."
His words jolted Sarah from her alarming train of thought and a new unease took its place. Take care of this problem? What did he mean by that? Sarah's doppelgänger was presumably the problem in question, so how did Jareth anticipate solving this?
Sarah's doppelgänger suddenly bolted from the doors, and she too heard the pounding footsteps from inside as someone strode over to them. Her doppelgänger ducked around the corner just in time as the double doors slammed open, and a tall man with long, inky black hair like silk stormed past Sarah in the opposite direction, away from her doppelgänger.
She knew him! She knew him, but suddenly his name was escaping her, like the last vestiges of a dream as one entered the waking realm, still shockingly clear but fading fast.
Just as she thought to chase after him, her vision clouded again and she groaned inwardly, wondering where she would find herself next. Whatever was happening, she wasn't enjoying the experience. It had to be some sort of lucid dreaming, a series of jumbled up images and stories melding together to create this nightmare.
Maybe if she pinched herself, she would wake up.
Alas, it did nothing.
And so Sarah now found herself in a grassy clearing, a canopy of lush green trees circling around her. Before her stood what she could only identify as an altar of some sort. It was a white stone platform raised upon a few steps and in the center stood an alcove with an empty basin.
And kneeling at the basin was her doppelgänger, looking worse for wear. She was pallid, her dress ripped and dirtied while her hair was wild and in disarray. Sarah wondered what had happened in the moments leading up to this that resulted in such a chaotic scene.
Her eyes slowly trailed to Jareth, who stood at the edge of the platform, with what appeared to be a dagger in his hand. Her doppelgänger appeared almost resigned to whatever fate awaited her.
Sarah paled, bile rising in her throat as Jareth neared her doppelgänger. She knew she couldn't do anything to stop this scene from playing out; Sarah thought she would be sick.
"Please wake up, please wake up," she murmured, screwing her eyes shut tight. Because this had to be a nightmare. It was the only thing to explain why she was seeing these things. Otherwise, nothing made sense, and she refused to believe that what was happening in front of her was true or could become true.
The last thing Sarah heard was a scream before her vision darkened and she lost consciousness entirely.
Herla watched with rapt attention Sarah's prone figure next to him. Even unconscious, her facial expressions gave her away. Her brow would wrinkle with frustration or confusion, her lips parting ever so slightly when surprised while her hands flexed, as if desperately seeking to do something but being powerless all the same.
As Sarah became more distressed, her unconscious self began to whimper, twisting and turning in her seat, Herla addressed the old woman in an absent murmur. "Do remember what we discussed about payment…"
The old woman sat across from them, her face impassive while she continuously assessed him.
"You know," she finally spoke, clasping her hands before her on the table, "you play fast and loose with the rules."
Herla scoffed, eyes never leaving Sarah. "Please, enlighten me."
The woman's eyes narrowed. "I know what you're up to."
"Oh?" Herla finally turned his attention to the old woman, amber eyes bright with mischief. "And what do you think that is?"
"You are tampering with events that have already happened and events that will continue to happen. The labyrinth is cursed - we are losing our connection to magic more and more every day, and you foolishly think that you can somehow override what has already been done." Turning her gaze upon Sarah, her expression softened marginally. "You want to manipulate this girl, and I fear that your actions will cause more harm than good."
Herla's gaze now narrowed in return, his countenance losing all faux good humor. "You overstep, witch." He leaned forward now. "I may not be the Erlking, but I still hold rank over you. Over most of you." Leaning back in his seat once more, Herla crossed a leg and placed his folded hands in his lap. "Besides, I should like to think that at least I'm trying to break the curse. What has Jareth done, hm? Endlessly pine for some stupid mortal girl, cycle after cycle, with no end in sight. He has doomed us all.
"Now if you please, the payment."
The old lady pursed her lips. "You ask for too much."
"Oh, now is not the time to renege on our previously discussed agreement, crone."
"Have some respect," she snapped. "And you know as well as I do that the point is there is no guarantee how precise this will be."
Herla smiled though it lacked any warmth. "Well, I insist that you hurry up and try."
The old woman cursed softly under her breath but quickly finished the contents of her own cup, and then grasped Sarah's palms in her own. She could feel a link opening between them, and she was assailed by the enormity of Sarah's memories. Hundreds of years in just one girl.
But that was the nature of a curse.
She sifted through Sarah's mind, trailing where her consciousness had gone, and as Herla had suspected, she was reliving the very first time. The first time she became acquainted with their world, the first time she met Jareth, the first time she thought she had fallen in love and the first time she had been betrayed.
More specifically, Sarah was watching herself about to be brutally murdered, and she found the poor girl scrunching her eyes shut tight, begging to not see what she subconsciously knew would happen.
It was both cruelty and mercy to remove this memory, and while the old woman would've wished things differently, she knew she could not disobey Herla. He was no king of hers, but there was still the hierarchy, the order of things.
The old woman grabbed hold of Sarah's consciousness, tethering her to her own and pulling her out of this nightmare. And with it, she erased the ending of this final memory, as if snipping a strand of excess thread. She knew it didn't matter, not really, because that's how curses worked. They made it already challenging enough to remember the whys of how things came to be, let alone trying to find a way to break them.
But Herla had wanted the extra insurance, and the old woman knew she had no place to challenge him.
Sarah came to with a jolt. Her eyes were wide with confusion and fear as she studied the room, trying to regain her bearings.
"What…What happened?" She grasped her head, feeling a light sheen of sweat. "I…I feel like I was in a dream. Or a nightmare, rather," she grimaced.
Her gaze suddenly fell on Herla, and her eyes widened in recognition. She knew she had seen him in her nightmare. She remembered him brushing past her, anger radiating off of him.
"Just remember, Sarah. The enemy of my enemy is my friend."
His words echoed in her head, and she then recalled he had known Jareth. And they hadn't seemed to be on friendly terms at all.
But there was something else niggling in the back of her mind, something that warned her to escape, leave now. She remembered with a start that the old woman had given her tea to drink, tea that would allow her to see the future. Except it hadn't felt like seeing the future, but more like gazing into a looking glass of another life she once had.
And she had to give up a memory in turn, one that she didn't have a choice over.
Something told her she was missing critical information. That she had been on the verge of discovering something important. But she didn't know what that was. Perhaps the memory she had given up had something to do with it?
Sarah knew then and there that she couldn't stay. She didn't know where she would go, but remaining here suddenly felt intolerable.
She scooted back from the table, nearly knocking her seat over before she turned and fled.
The old woman cast a look at Herla, arching a brow as if to say, 'Well? Aren't you going after her?'
But Herla merely flicked invisible dust off his sleeve and promptly rose to his feet. He had done what he set out to do. There wasn't any need to chase after Sarah, and furthermore, he was running out of time anyway.
"Let's hope you did your job right, you wrinkly old bat." Herla winked and sauntered out of the tent, leaving the old woman to scowl in silence.
Sarah knew it would've been a mistake to stay in the tent, but she feared she had made another mistake trying to find her away around the Night Market on her own. In fact, she was keenly aware that the last time she got lost, she ended up in the situation she had just fled from.
She couldn't trust anyone it seemed, and her panic threatened to consume her. Nothing looked familiar, and she swore the Night Market had taken on a more macabre tinge. The sounds of merriment sounded less like a jolly time and more like a cacophony of jeers and snarls, the revelers becoming aware of her helpless state, feeding off of her frenetic energy.
Sarah began to push past everyone, picking a direction at random. She didn't bother to search for Erebus anymore, as he had proven to be useless. If she saw him again, she wouldn't hesitate to give him a resolute kick to his rear end.
The crowd started to feel suffocating, leaving Sarah with the distinct feeling that she was purposely being closed in on. Her fear spiked, making it harder for her to gain her bearings. She felt hot tears prick her eyes as hands grabbed at her clothes and hair and mocking laughter swelled around her. Sarah couldn't understand why the crowd had suddenly turned malevolent when earlier it had seemed pleasant enough. She didn't know what she'd done or perhaps not done, but she needed to get away.
A gloved hand suddenly gripped her wrist and pulled her firmly through the crowd. Sarah scrambled after, desperately trying to pry the hand off of her.
"Let me go!" She wailed, futilely digging her heels in with no luck. "Leave me alone!"
But the stranger paid her no heed and acted as if she hadn't spoken or resisted at all.
Sarah was forced to give in and stumbled after the tall, cloaked figure before eventually reaching the entrance of the Night Market. She could dimly make out Mist tied to her post, along with another large, white steed and she nearly sobbed with relief.
"Th-Thank yo-," Sarah began to say, feeling almost sheepish but too miserable to care, before the figure whirled around, letting the rest of that sentence die on her lips.
"I don't understand how one could be so utterly stupid," Jareth seethed, removing the hood of his cloak and dropping her arm like it was hot coal in the process. "Do you know how dangerous that place is?"
Sarah scowled and then shrank back, images from earlier tonight from the reading coming in unbidden, like the waves of a sea in a storm. She remembered he had appeared to once be taken with her, or some version of her, real or not, but she also remembered how cruel he could be. The dagger in his hand.
No, she couldn't be alone with him, she couldn't trust him.
Even if he had just saved her.
Even if he did seem upset that she had been in potential danger.
Maybe just upset that I almost ruined whatever plan he has for me, Sarah thought with venom.
"It's no business of yours," she retorted haughtily, deciding that pretending she hadn't had those visions was better. She didn't want to tip her hand to Jareth. Ignorance is bliss and all that nonsense.
"Oh, it's not, is it?" His nostrils flared as he stalked closer.
Sarah backed away again, unease settling in her stomach.
She then recalled words he had told her not so long ago.
"We've struck our deal. The rest is up to you. You will receive no help from me, nor will you receive any other interference on my end."
Sarah stared at Jareth with newfound suspicion, her fear briefly subsiding.
"Why did you help me?" She asked, her tone simple and direct. "You told me earlier that you wouldn't help me or interfere." She took a small step forward again, courage suddenly blooming within her. "And what you did back there for me…you helped me - you interfered - wouldn't you say?" She whispered softly.
Jareth let loose a huff of laughter that hardly sounded amused. "Even I can't stand by and watch someone carelessly throw away their life."
It was Sarah's turn to laugh. "That sounds like a pretty pathetic excuse. I have to say, I'm a little surprised, Jareth." She tried to sound brave but couldn't fight back the tremulous edge to her voice.
He ignored her jab and instead took a step closer, lifting a gloved hand to her face. Sarah flinched, expecting…she didn't know what, exactly. But before she could conjure up a guess, Jareth simply brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, pointedly avoiding looking into her eyes.
The gesture was surprisingly intimate and gentle, and Sarah was both shocked and revolted to feel warmth spread through her. Was she so starved for affection that this action alone elicited her response? No, she told herself, she was simply overwhelmed and her nerves were frayed. Any amount of kindness right now felt like a blessing.
Even if it was from someone like Jareth.
Deciding she didn't like where this was going, Sarah blurted out the first thing she could think of to break the tension.
"Who is Herla? How do you know him?"
Her question had the intended effect as Jareth immediately recoiled, his expression turning to irritation once more.
"Stay away from him," he growled. "You have no business indulging him."
And because Sarah was petulant and contrarian, she suddenly felt the urge to see Herla again, even if she didn't trust him at all.
"Why?" She raised her chin in a show of challenge.
Jareth gave a small sigh of frustration. "Does it pain you, pet, to ever for once consider being agreeable?"
Sarah bristled but forced herself to maintain her composure. "I could ask the same of you." Leveling her own steely gaze, she continued. "Why can't you answer my question? Perhaps it would help me feel more agreeable."
Jareth watched her for several moments, and Sarah idly noted the way a muscle worked his jaw. She knew she shouldn't push her luck, she knew it was unwise to stoke his anger, but she couldn't ignore the thrill she admittedly felt when she knew she had pushed his buttons.
A perverse game of her own, it seemed.
Sarah let out an indignant yelp when Jareth quickly snatched her wrist and practically shoved her over to Mist. Before she could protest further, he grabbed her waist and promptly deposited her on the saddle. Sarah caught the reins just in time and shot a furious look.
"You ass!"
Jareth steadfastly ignored her, bringing his own steed over to her and connecting their reins.
"I know how to ride a horse," she petulantly declared.
"I don't doubt that for a moment," he dutifully replied, ensuring Mist was securely attached to his horse. "But I do doubt your ability to listen, even when it concerns your own well-being."
Sarah decided for once to not die on this hill and allowed him to begin leading the way.
She watched with anger at first, directing as many curses in her mind as she could to his back. And when she was exhausted of that, she allowed herself to idly observe Jareth, to really look at him.
He sat atop his horse exactly the way a king would, even if he hadn't been dressed very kingly. He was lean and tall, broad shoulders proudly rolled back. His shock of ash blonde hair, despite looking in disarray, seemed regal on him. She tried to look at him the way her doppelgänger had, as if bewitched by the very sight of him. A warm flush spread across her cheeks as she found it was all too easy to let those thoughts take over.
But then the vision of him with the dagger, his ominous words of taking care of the problem, felt like a bucket of ice water dumped on her.
"Careful, pet," Jareth called over his shoulder, a mocking edge to his voice. "You keep staring and I may begin to think you're a pervert."
Sarah gave a strangled noise of protest.
Make that two buckets of ice cold water dumped on her.
AN: As always, thank you to those who read/review/message etc. I appreciate it as always.