Chapter Seventeen

Jareth

Because I know what love is

And that's why ours is good

No I won't lie to you

- Alone, Haelos

October 4th, 2002. Day 17 of the quarantine.

Three days. Three whole days Sarah had been trapped in the Underground, tortured and starved. To her, it had been a little over a week. Her face had slimmed down considerably, and there was a healing bruise across one cheek, the skin yellow and green except over her cheekbone where the flesh was an angry burgundy color.

And her eyes—he could hardly bear it, looking at her eyes. Those luminous orbs had turned milky and scarred, shifting restlessly when she looked at him.

He held her until she stopped crying and then held her some more. He was reticent to let her out of his arms, even as she shifted against him. "Do you need food? Water?"

She shook her head. Her voice was a croak. "A shower, please."

He gathered her up and took her to the bathroom, setting her on the edge of the tub while he started the hot water. She took off her blouse, undoing the buttons, and shrugging it from her shoulders. He eyed her as she did so, noting marks around her wrists and sucking in a breath when he saw how prominent her ribs were.

"They didn't let me speak," she said, her voice still hoarse. He abandoned the shower for a moment to pour her a glass of water from the sink, pressing it into her hands. She gulped it down, throat convulsing as she swallowed. When she finished, she handed it back to him, arm stretched out somewhere to his right. He took it from her as steam began to fill the air. "They said they would take my tongue, Jareth." She shuddered.

"I know, love. I could not come to you, but I was able to watch you." He helped her stand and get out of the rest of her clothes. "My brother might have sworn to allow the lamia her life, but when I return, I will hunt her to the ends of Faerie."

Sarah stepped into the shower and under the hot spray. The water sluicing off her turned gray and brown. They did not speak more until she finished, and shivering under a shower turned cold. He turned off the tap and wrapped her in one of her long, fluffy towels, then did a little magic to dry her the rest of the way. "The selkie gave me something," she said. "Some kind of stimulant. I can't—I'm so tired, but I know I can't sleep."

"It will work its way out of your system," he assured her. "And I can help you sleep, love. I am the lord of dreams."

"At least I can see in my dreams," she whispered.

Jareth cupped her cheek. "Let's get you into some dry clothes. May I escort you into your bedroom?"

She tilted her head. "You've never been in there, have you?"

"No, precious. It's your space."

Sarah let out a soft snort. "This whole apartment was my space; that didn't seem to stop you from making your home here." She reached up and grasped the hand which still touched her. "Can't you just magic up some clothes for me?"

"If you wish."

"I do."

Jareth pulled his hand away from her and untied the towel, pushing a little power into the air to coalesce around her form. A tank top and soft lounge pants. They highlighted her emaciated figure. "Let's get some food into you."

"Okay," she said, her voice small and her bottom lip trembling. "Jareth, can you talk to your healers? I can't stand this darkness. I want to see you."

His chest constricted at her words, and he pulled her in for another embrace, inhaling the just-cleaned scent of her. Almonds and jasmine, and that elusive something which belonged solely to her. "I will. Gods, Sarah, I will call on any healer I've ever heard of, I swear it. We will find a way to restore your sight."

She gripped his shoulders, then threw her arms around his neck, pressing herself harder against him. Her lips were on his throat, and she whispered hot against his flesh. "I knew you would come, but I was so afraid you wouldn't. Not in time. The lamia wanted to kill me."

"I know." He stroked his hand through her hair, his other arm still wrapped around her, unwilling to let go. "Aldric will take greater precautions with your portals from now on. This should never happen again."

She fell silent, but after a moment nuzzled a little at his neck. He could smell a hint of lust coming from her and began disentangling them. "What—"

"Food," he said gently. "You need food, love. And rest." He smiled and raised her hand to his mouth so she could feel it. "Though I will attend to all your needs, in time." He lay a gentle kiss on her palm.

Sarah smiled back, the motion hesitant. "I swear sometimes it's like you can read my mind."

"Nothing so simple, precious. I am only in tune with you." He opened the door, letting in the cooler air, and took her hand. "Take your time, Sarah. You're unaccustomed to walking like this."

Of course, she tried to take her usual pace and ended up stumbling into him. She cursed and squeezed his hand. "Fine."

He led her, and she made it to the couch without tripping. He sat her down and tucked her hair back behind her ear. While he would have liked the rhythm and mechanics of making her a meal, he did not want her to have to wait, and so he summoned a hot mug of broth. "Sip this," he said, placing it in her cupped hands. "We'll start off light and work you back up to regular food over the next day or two."

Her gaze was off to the side, near him but not at him. She took a drink, and made a pleased sound, then gulped down two mouthfuls one right after the next. Jareth put his hand over the mug and pulled it back down, so she held it in her lap.

"Take it slow, Sarah, love."

Her smile was back, tentative still. "You keep saying that. Love."

Summoning her a glass of water, which she took and drank greedily, Jareth chewed on his response. Again, there was the desire and the impulse to keep everything from her, to not say the things that would tie her tighter to him. Even more, now that she was so hurt, so vulnerable. Add to it that this time would come to an end, that he would have to battle his brother soon, and his stomach flipped a little. But then the words were tumbling from his lips.

"Because that is what you are to me. Love. When the Labyrinth branded me with this," he traced the back of her left hand in a circular pattern. "At first, I was so furious. The choice had been stripped from me. There had been others over the centuries who had caught my attention. That I had no say in the bond enraged me for years. But now, Sarah? Gods, now I see why the Labyrinth did what it did. Why it chose you."

"I thought all fae were given these bonds."

"Not all. The fates are mercurial; they bestow bonds when and as they see fit. But the Labyrinth gave me this one, I am certain. In its way, it is sentient and a greater force than all the fae at the Seelie court combined. If it decided you were it for me, then you were it. You are the first mortal champion of the Labyrinth and the first champion I have met in my long reign." Jareth lifted the mug back to Sarah's lips, and she took a few more swallows before setting it down again. "But the point is, precious, that even in my wildest imaginings, I would never have conjured someone like you. I could never have known someone like you could exist. You are—" he stopped himself, then spoke to her in his language, and she closed her eyes, leaning toward him.

Her smile was wide when he finished. "That's an awful lot of words."

"You're worth describing in a million words," he said, his stomach knotting. I may not have the time now to do so. Only thirteen more days, and I must cross swords with my brother. He did not know how to tell her, but he would. Soon.

Sarah held out the mug, and he took it from her fingers. As soon as he had set it down on the side table, she reached out, feeling along his chest up to his neck, then his face. Her fingertips traced his lips as she leaned in, sliding into his lap as his arms came up to encircle her. "You love me," she said, words calm but laced with a desire he could not ignore.

She needed rest and more substantial food, but when her mouth pressed against his, he was lost to all but her. To her thighs as they bracketed his hips, to the pulse jumping through the thin skin of her lips, and to her hands touching him everywhere. He returned the favor, hesitating for a moment as he brushed the new concavity of her stomach, but then she moaned and thrust her tongue into his mouth, grasping one of his hands to pull off the glove.

Little tendrils of her magic slipped down his throat from where she kissed him and played along his flesh where her fingers ran. He pushed some of his own, some of the power of the bond, through his own hands and into her. She ground against him, moaning as he knew sensation alighted across her skin. He increased what he gave her, hoping some of his magic, his vitality, could restore her. He did not know much about healing, but it seemed right in the moment.

Sarah made quick work of the clasps on his vest, then spread it and the shirt beneath open. She pulled away from him with a gasp, and he saw the bruise on her cheekbone was almost gone—only a faint yellow tinge remaining—and she looked fuller. "Sarah," he breathed. "Your face."

She touched her chin, brows furrowed. "What is it?"

Reaching up to caress the spot, she jerked back at the brush of his fingers. "I'm sorry," he said. "Does it still hurt?"

She began probing the area, and an expression of wonderment came over her face. "A little, but nothing like it did. And I'm—gods, I'm hungry." Her stomach growled as though to echo the sentiment, and she flushed.

"Don't move," he said and summoned up a bowl of sliced fruits, lifting a peach slice to her lips. "Open your mouth."

She did, and he slid the piece of fruit onto her tongue. Letting out a low moan, she quickly chewed and swallowed. He fed her several other pieces in this way before setting the bowl aside. "I'm still hungry," she protested.

He pulled her face down to his, catching her up in a kiss which tasted of the peaches and apricots he had given her. Her exclamation of surprise turned into a gentle sigh, and then she was pressing against him again, hips rolling forward, so she ground herself against him. Grasping her ass, he encouraged the movement, chasing the friction that rubbed along his stiffening cock. "Sarah," he whispered, breaking their kiss to run his mouth down the column of her throat. "I want you with everything I have."

She cried out as his teeth grazed the side of her neck. He wanted to mark her again, to claim her utterly, fully. The brand seemed to pulse with the need, and he pressed all of it into her, letting his magic flood into her as hers trickled into him. The effort left him breathless, but then Sarah let out a surprised sound, and her grip on him became hard and frantic. "Jareth! You have to stop."

The words shocked him enough to pull him out of the sensation of the ebb and flow of their respective magics. Sarah's hands were on his face, and she was so warm—almost feverishly hot, actually—that for once, he wanted to pull away from her touch.

"You're so cold," she whispered. "I know you're doing something with your magic. I can feel that much, but you have to stop. I feel better. A lot better." She felt for his lips and pressed another kiss to his mouth. "Take it back."

"No," he rasped and gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place. "Give me some of yours, Sarah. Open for me."

A whimper and a whispered, "I don't know how."

In response, he reached for her, dipping his ungloved hand under the band of her pants to find her slick and so hot she almost burned. She bucked against him, and his other hand fell to her hip, holding her in place. "You're feeding me some of your magic now," he whispered, as it peppered his skin like a snow flurry. It was already beginning to revive him. He swirled her clit with his thumb, and she gasped. "Open the door, precious. Let it become what it's meant to be when you're with me."

She thrust herself against his hand, and he smiled, loving the sounds she made as he slipped his fingers inside of her, and she rode them, her breath coming in little pants. She whispered his name, and he growled hers in return.

And then she did open to him. The moment she crested, crying out with her hands clutching his shoulders, the little spatters of her magic became a deluge. But even within it, he could sense this was the merest glimpse of what she had contained inside her. A piece of Faerie. A slice of the stuff which made the world and all the creatures in it.

"That's enough, love," he said, at last, fearful that to take too much would deplete her yet again. But her skin practically glowed in the low light of the setting sun. If not for the hazy quality of her scarred eyes, she would have looked better than he had ever seen her. And he experienced a pain of regret seeing she was still blinded. I was able to fix some things, but not all.

Sarah leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his and closing her eyes. "I'm starting to."

He blinked. "What?"

"Love you. I'm starting to."

Jareth's pulse sped, and he hugged her to him. Gods above, how long had he wanted to hear those words, or similar?

His own feelings had morphed over the last few weeks alone. There used to be an obsession to claim her, to possess her, but the more time he spent with Sarah, the more he recognized that the true gift was how she shared in her sovereignty. He had not realized the heady rush there would be from being thoroughly desired in turn, and the more taste of it he had, the more he craved.

Her hands slid along his cheeks and jaw, fingertips tickling at his hairline, and when she spoke, her breath slid against his skin. "I still don't want to be a queen."

He grinned, and she echoed the motion as her thumb brushed the corners of his wide smile. "I will not deny I want to see you crowned beside me, precious. I think you underestimate how well you would take to statecraft. But you may fill whatever role you wish." Smoothing his hands down her sides, he followed the curve of her hip to her thighs. "Consort. Mistress." He brushed a kiss against her lips. "Wife."

She chuckled. "Are you proposing?"

"You have had a standing proposal from me for some years, Sarah. My answer has always been yes."

"Because you had no choice."

"And because I desire you as I've desired no other," he said in truth. He gripped her thighs and pulled her against the evidence of that desire, and she gave a little gasp. Tracing patterns along the soft cotton of her pants, he began moving his hand further up her leg. "Shall I prove it to you?"

"Yes," she whispered, voice breathy and heavy with arousal.

Jareth rose with her in his lap, her legs encircling him as he summoned up his chambers and, most importantly, his bed. A little magic and she was naked in his arms, and then he was lying her down on the furs and kissing his way down her body.

Sarah did not quiet her cries, clutching the silk into fists by her side as he brought her to one orgasm after another. He stopped when she begged him, her limbs trembling as though she were wholly overcome. She wrapped her legs around him as he crawled his way back up, kissing her roughly as her nails pressed into the skin of his back.

He rolled on his back, and she lay half-draped over him, her breath still coming in soft little pants. She kept her eyes closed, and like that, he could pretend he would see her whole when she opened them. For just a moment, he could forget the terrible events of the last few days and simply be with her.

Sarah traced whorls along his skin, reminding him of the glyph on the back of his hand. He wondered if she was doing it intentionally. "Now, I'm starving. Could I trouble you for something?"

"What would you like, precious?"

"Something hearty, I think." She sat up, unconscious of her singular beauty as a sheet of her dark hair fell forward to cover her breasts. He wanted to capture the image on a canvas, only he knew he did not have the skill. Not and keep her vibrance shining through.

Jareth summoned a meal on a tray table next to the bed. A meat pie and more fruit, pomegranate juice, and a pitcher of cool water. He helped Sarah find it, but she shooed him away when he tried to help her eat.

"Even if this is temporary, I need to fend for myself," she said.

Jareth summoned up a dressing gown for her to wear while she ate and went to the wall, where he had a few mirrors. He touched his fingertips to the surface of one and called out, "Regina, I have need of you."

The face of his healer swam into view on his mirror. "My king," she bowed, the crown of her short-cropped brown hair visible for a moment before she straightened again. Her keen grey eyes did a swift assessment of his personage, as he was used to her doing. She had healed him more than once when he had been unaware the curse or injury had been inflicted. Many creatures of Faerie struck in such ways, hoping to drain their victim's life without their knowledge until it was too late. Regina had prevented at least two incidents from occurring.

"How fares the infirmary?" he inquired.

She made a face. For an ogre, she was a diminutive specimen. Only six feet tall, her charcoal skin tinged a deep green as blood rushed to her cheeks. "We've had an outbreak of dragon scale pox among the goblins in the city center. I leave the broken bones, scrapes, and cuts to my nurses and focus on making house calls to your court. You know how it is." She tilted her head. "I hear the Aboveground has a plague raging."

"Indeed. Nothing I can acquire, I'm sure, but that is not why I need to speak to you." He motioned behind him, where Sarah was still nibbling at her food, head cocked as she listened to their conversation. "The champion has been hit with lamia venom across the eyes. She has been blinded. It has been this way for several days now. Is there anything you can to do for circumstances such as these?"

Regina tapped one of her large bottom incisors. "There might be. Can I see her?" There was more than a subtle hint of curiosity to her voice as she attempted to peer around Jareth to catch a glimpse.

He turned from the mirror. "Sarah? Do you mind if Regina gets a look at you?"

She nodded, wiping her face with a napkin as he came to her side. He took her hand and drew her to the mirror. His healer looked at her with ill-contained awe. "This is the champion, sire?"

"Yes. Regina, meet Sarah Williams. Sarah, this is Regina. She runs the royal infirmary and is my private physician."

"Hello," Sarah said, looking just a little off from where the ogre really was. "Have you dealt with something like this before?"

"Not personally," she said with a grunt, as close as the mirror would allow. "Could you step forward a little, please?" Jareth guided her with hands to her shoulders, and Regina clicked her tongue. "But I've read up on treatments for lamia venom. I've given effective antidotes to those accidentally poisoned by the stuff, but I've never dealt with a blinding. Your majesty," she turned her attention to Jareth. "If I were to craft a potion, could I get it to you?"

"I can make a portal, yes."

"Good. Sarah, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to make a potion which will need to be applied directly to your eyes. I won't lie to you... this won't be pleasant in any way. After the potion is applied, you'll need to wrap your eyes and keep them covered for two days. An entire two days." Her severe expression gentled some as Sarah's face fell. "This will work, my lady. You'll be able to see again, I promise."

"Thank you," she said, her voice small. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Regina's eyes found his. "My liege, if you would open a portal in my private apothecary within the next hour, I should have the potion ready."

When the connection closed, Sarah reached out, grasping his hand and following it to his shoulder, stepping close and pressing against him. "I'm not going to be blind forever," she whispered.

Thank the gods. "Yes. And this comes at no cost to you, precious." Remember that when you're dealing with my brother.

"Thank you."

He placed a gentle kiss against her forehead. "Of course, Sarah."

Jareth helped her with the rest of her meal despite her complaining she could do it herself. He enjoyed feeding her and licking away any juices or crumbs which escaped her mouth. She finished everything he gave her by the time he summoned up a portal and a speaking mirror to Regina's private workspace. They spoke for a moment, the healer explaining the particulars of the potion—a thorough analysis he humored with some impatience—before sending a goblin through the mirror with the tincture in a small, cushioned basket.

The goblin—Azra—delighted at being in the Aboveground, even for a moment, looking around with its wide yellow eyes. It pointed at Sarah and began jumping excitedly. "The champion! It's the champion!"

Sarah smiled, and Azra moved as though to scurry to her side, but Jareth punted him back toward the portal. "Go on," he said. "You've done your duty. Go before I bog you."

"Stop being a bully, Jareth," Sarah scolded. Regina laughed, and Azra bolted through the portal without a backward glance. He closed the portal and turned back to the ogre. "Do you mind waiting until after I've applied the potion? I want to speak to you in case something goes wrong."

"Yes, my king," she said, bowing her head. "But be prepared, the both of you. This will be incredibly painful."

"Of course it will be," Sarah grumbled.

Jareth instructed her to lay down on the bed, and he knelt beside it, cradling the small glass vial. The potion inside was lime green with a dropper for precise application. "Ready?" He asked.

She sighed and gripped a pillow to her chest. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He applied the potion to the first eye, and Sarah's back bowed off the bed, the motion seeming to be involuntary as her mouth opened in a silent gasp. Without waiting, he did the same to the other eye, and her whimper of pain sent a lance through his heart. "I'm sorry, love," he whispered, summoning the wrap needed and starting to apply it around her eyes. "It's over."

"It burns," she said, voice breathy. "Gods, it burns worse than when I woke up in the wilds."

Jareth finished bandaging her eyes, checking his work, and nodding with satisfaction. Sarah reached up to the white linen, and he stopped her hand. "Try not to touch it." She gripped his fingers, her hold tight on him. She was still trembling.

"He's right," Regina called from where the mirror hung on the opposite wall. "You should attempt to leave it alone, my lady. It will aid in healing." She looked at Jareth. "What we don't want to see is itching or continued burning after the first hour. She should be comfortable over the next few days, stay hydrated and well-fed. When the wrappings are removed, she should avoid brightly lit places for at least three days. She'll be sensitive to light and struggle with night vision until the healing is complete. If there is any vomiting or fever, reach out to me immediately. It's a rare reaction, but it happens sometimes. I'll have the counter potion ready just in case."

"Thank you," he said, and Sarah echoed him. Regina bowed, and Jareth waved a hand, dismissing the mirror. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"It still feels like you melted my eyeballs," she said wryly. "Now, you said something about helping me sleep. I don't suppose that means I can sleep with you again?"

"You can sleep with me however often you please," he said and meant it. "Are you still feeling the effects of the selkie's drug?"

"I think so. I feel restless, even though I'm bone tired. Will I see you in my dreams? I miss your face."

He cupped her cheek, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So long as you invite me in, Sarah, I'll be there. Count on it."

Hello lovelies,

This is a bit fluffier than the last few chapters but I figured we kind of needed it.

Things will go back to "normal" soon. *evil laugh*

Love,

CrimsonSympathy