Chapter Twenty-Three
Sarah
For you are made of nebulas and novas and night sky
You're made of memories you bury or live by
So if you're out there in the cold
I'll cover you in moonlight
- Vienna Teng, Never Look Away
September 18th, 1995. Sarah's first apartment in New York.
Jareth appeared in the velvet armchair as she expected him to, as he had a half-dozen times before, between one blink and the next and accompanied by a crash of thunder. He gave her a sharp smile as soon as his gaze lifted to hers. "Well, precious, have you thought about what I asked?"
Sarah took a deep breath, stealing herself. I said I was going to do this, so let's do this.
But the moment she opened her mouth to say the words, a choked sob escaped her lips. Eyes and cheeks burning with shame, she covered her face with her hands, her hair swinging forward to further shield her from sight.
She stood like that, trembling, thoughts tumbling and screaming, when his hands were gentle on hers, skin burning even through the linen gloves he wore. "Sarah," he said, his voice a caress. "Let me see you."
He could have pried her hands away, and she knew it, but his touch was feather light. Asking, more than commanding. Her breath left her in a sigh, and she let him draw her hands away, her gaze locked on the brocade of his vest and the amulet that swung there, winking silver in the low lamplight.
"Did someone hurt you?" he asked, and there was a thread of violence in his tone that made a choked sob tumble from her lips.
"Tell me," he demanded.
"It's nothing," she lied, her voice a rasp. "I'm sorry, this was stupid, I—"
She squeaked as Jareth grasped her around the waist and tugged her onto her bed. It was shoved into the corner, and she felt a further burn of shame as she imagined what this place must look like to his eyes. Her bedding was still what she had as a girl—a replacement was too expensive for the moment, and so it was a appalling pastel pink—and the only thing she had purchased so far was a three-legged stool and a small table that sat next to the armchair and separated the bed from the efficiency kitchen. There was a door to the bathroom, another to the closet, and then the heavily locked entrance to the tiny studio.
"What—" she said, but then Jareth's thumb was tracing the corner of her mouth, and her words dried up, eyes widening as she looked at him. She was pressed to his side, practically in his lap, one of his arms still around her waist while he looked at her with mismatched eyes that seemed to blaze.
She could not look away. Caught, her body responding to his heat and proximity with alarming intensity, nipples tightening.
"I don't like to see you upset," he said, still running the pad of his gloved thumb along her bottom lip. His gaze followed the movement. "Tell me what I can do."
"Because if you fix it, I'll have to go with you to the Underground?" she whispered, her own stare fixated on his mouth.
That mouth smiled, sharp teeth flashing. "Would that be so awful? A life as queen? Don't tell me you enjoy living like this." He drew closer, cradling her cheek now, and his hair tickled against her skin as he leaned in.
Sarah's breath caught, body shaking in anticipation and fear, but his lips touched down not on hers but on the thin skin beneath her eyes. She closed them as he dragged his lips across her flesh, drinking up her tears. The gesture felt strange. Alien. He is fae.
"Jareth," she whispered.
She did not know what else she might have said, for upon hearing his name, his mouth covered hers, and for the first time she was kissing the Goblin King.
He tasted of salt tears and smelled of the moment before the lightning strike. The heat of him was intense, but she sank into it instead of shying away.
When she did not pull back, a low rumble started in Jareth's chest, and his teeth grazed her lips, making them part so that their tongues stroked and danced with each other.
She found herself moving. Stradling his waist as her hands plunged into his silken hair and she pulled a little, another growl rumbling from his chest as she did. His hands came down on her hips, encouraging the slow rocking she had started, his fingers splaying to cup her ass. She wore jeans with her tank top, but even through them she could feel his growing need for her, and it made something seem to click inside of her.
"Come back with me," Jareth whispered, tearing away from her mouth to trail a blazing line of kisses down her throat. "Live long in the Underground with me, sweet Sarah."
She closed her eyes, letting loose a low keening sound as he gripped her tighter, pulling her flush against his erection. "I—"
He bit down and she gasped, clutching him, hands running down his chest, fingers touching the curves of the pendant that blazed with the same heat as him. "Say yes," he whispered. "Say yes and I will take all your pain away, my precious thing."
"That's not—" an image flashed in her mind, of a manic face accompanied by mocking laughter. She choked, and suddenly, Jareth's hands were on her face, smearing fresh tears which soaked into the fabric of his gloves. "I want to feel you," she whispered, lip trembling. "Please don't stop."
Jareth's eyes searched hers. "Who hurt you, beloved?"
"Does it matter?" she asked. She felt so tired.
He gave a nod. "Let me see." He bit the tip of one gloved finger and pulled it off with his teeth, keeping his gaze locked on hers the entire while.
She grabbed the glove and he let go, the fabric fine and soft, just as his fingertips touched her cheek.
Sarah gasped. He was like fire made flesh. She almost expected to feel her skin sizzling, but she moaned as he dipped his thumb into her mouth. She closed her lips around it, sucking gently, and he hissed, his left hand gripping her hip and pulling her tight against him.
"Open for me, precious," he murmured, lips grazing the column of her throat. "Show me."
Her eyes closed as his thumb fell from her mouth, trailing a hot line down her chin and across her jaw, so hard she thought she might bruise. "I don't know what you—" she let out a breathy moan as his teeth grazed her once more— "are talking about."
Jareth gripped her tighter. "Let me into your mind, to see what happened. Let me take it from you, if need be, so that you are not haunted by it. I will do this thing for you, precious, asking nothing in return."
Sarah trembled. "You won't make me go to the Underground with you?"
He chuckled, the sound dark and seductive both. "Not yet."
Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips and her next words were tremulous. "Yes. You can see."
He devoured her, lips and tongue and teeth all until she whimpered and ground against him, exploring his body as he explored hers, though she paused as she grazed the pendant he so often wore. But when she stroked the heated metal, something seemed to happen that made her grasp it for a moment, chasing the sensation. It was as though—
"Yes," he rasped against her lips. "Open for me."
Jareth's grip tightened further on her, pulling her flush against him.
And then the world was spinning, and her vision darkened just as she heard the echoes of that terrible laughter.
Jareth stiffened, and a low growl began emanating from his chest. Sarah was lost to sensation, her core throbbing and head spinning as the smell of ozone grew thick in the air. She had expected that she would relive the events, that she would see their mocking faces once more, but she felt the sting of the rejection and the pain of being so humiliated ease.
And as it eased, she came back to herself a little further. Exhaustion tugged at her, but awareness was flooding back.
She was straddling the Goblin King. Had kissed him, and been kissed by him, thoroughly. Her body cried out for more, but Jareth was still unmoving, his forehead pressed to her shoulder and his breath fluttering across the skin of her chest.
"Do you want me to kill them?" he asked, his voice soft and without a hint of inflection.
Sarah had expected to forget the events, but they felt like something long removed. Something that happened decades ago, instead of hours. Let me take it from you, he had said, and he had. But with the lessening of the sting came the sobriety of realizing what a precarious position she had placed herself in.
Except—
I want him.
She wanted what he offered. She wanted no more days like today. Sarah was tired of struggling, of suffering.
"No," she said in answer to his question. "I don't want you to kill them."
He lifted his head, his hand coming up to thread through her hair. Despite her best efforts, gooseflesh erupted at the touch, and she shivered. A small smile tugged at his lips, seeing this reaction. "Come with me, Sarah mine. Come to the Underground, where none of this pain will touch you again."
Sarah opened her mouth to respond—
And the phone rang.
Jareth's hands fell away when she pushed off his lap. Her stomach twisted as she grabbed for the black handset mounted to the wall in the kitchenette, the fine hairs on the back of her neck rising as she knew he was watching her. "Williams," she said into the receiver, her voice a little breathier than normal. There were only a few reasons people called this late.
"Hey sis," Toby stammered on the other line. "I need your help."
#
October 8th, 2002. Day 21 of quarantine. Midnight.
#
Jareth pressed her against the door, hands making quick work of the sash at her waist. When she went to touch him, he was already bare, and the faint tinge of ozone to the air let her know that he had used magic to do away with his clothes.
"They can't hear us?" she whispered against his mouth, between fevered kisses. "You're sure?"
In response, Jareth kissed her neck and then bit down, causing her to cry out, her head falling back against the wooden door as she clutched his shoulders, nails digging into flesh. "I want to hear every sound you'll make," he said, breath heated and ragged against the sensitive flesh of her ear. "I want you to scream my name this night."
Sarah shuddered, then groaned as his biting mouth covered hers, the kiss deepening until her head spun. All she could think was of getting more of this. "Don't stop," she said, helping him yank her clothes the rest of the way off. "I don't want to stop."
"As you command, precious," he said with a flash of a smile. "But first—"
She let out a cry of impatience as his hands fell away from her body and he stepped back, the air too cold compared to the heat of him. "What are you—"
"Sarah," he said, "look at me."
She did, her chest heaving as she beheld the pale, lean perfection of him. Muscles played beneath his skin, and she felt her mouth water as she looked down, down, at the evidence of his arousal.
"If we do this, things will change," he said, stepping back. Sarah moved forward, unable to stand further distance between them, but he kept talking. "There is no way for me to stop the power trade, you understand. I can feed you back some of my own, but this will be an uneven exchange, in the end. You realize that, don't you?"
The words hit her and slid off like water droplets off an oiled feather.
She was hungry. And he possessed the one thing which would satisfy her.
A regret-tinged memory slid through the back of her mind, of another fae lord who wanted her, through and through.
But Sarah had made her choice.
She lifted her chin. "Do you mean to deny me?"
His gaze went from beseeching to intense in an instant. "Never."
Weeks since she had wanted this, wanted him, and now? Exhausted though she was, she wanted him even more. She had wanted him since before the night seven years ago, and she wanted him even more now. She had seen the transformation in him, the shift from that of a typical fae noble who would use any leverage they had against her in endless games, to a man she trusted.
One she knew was on her side and saw her.
Even now, heat building between them.
Sliding forward, Sarah looked up the short distance to his mismatched eyes. "When I was with Aldric, he touched me with his bare hands."
Jareth tensed, and pain flared in the depths of his gaze. "A far-sight?"
She nodded. "I don't want that, Jareth. I want you. Only you. Even if it means…" she hesitated, then stepped closer still, until she could feel the line of his heat like a furnace. Hands trembling a little with anticipation and need, she gently traced his skin with her fingertips until she gripped his shoulders, leaning against him and feeling just how much he wanted her. Jade eyes found his. "Don't you want me?"
"More than anything," he said, voice strained. "But I need to know, Sarah, that you understand… I won't be able to let you go." He said the last in a whisper, his eyes blazing. "I cannot go back."
A lump formed in her throat, but she lifted her chin, then ran her hands along his shoulders to his neck and pulled him down, finding his lips with hers. The moment before they touched, she murmured to him, "Then we won't go back."
Jareth let out a low, growling moan. She loved that she could make those noises come from him, to hear him lose himself in her touch.
Sarah pushed him back on the bed, crawling over him while hands explored and ran over bodies. Whenever her lips left his, his teeth were biting down on her flesh. Her neck, her breasts, her wrist, the lobe of her ear. Always that low growl rumbled from him.
"Can you get me pregnant?" she asked with a gasp.
"Not unless you want me to, precious," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his fingers kneading the skin over her hips. "It has to be a conscious act on both our parts."
Her stomach fluttered, thinking of what that might mean if—when, her mind whispered—she went to Faerie with him as his queen. She pushed away the thought. "Do you want me?" she whispered, reaching between them to find him hot and hard. She slid him along her folds, slick and ready.
He gasped, neck corded with strain and nails digging into the flesh of her thighs. "I want you. I'll always want you. Sarah… I love you."
Fumbling for a moment, flush with the confession, soon she was sinking down onto him, the pressure and fullness of him enough to make her writhe and gasp. Jareth raised up enough that his teeth could come down on her throat as her head fell back in ecstasy. He was larger than any of her previous partners, and he burned, but it felt oh, so good.
She slid down him until he was buried to the hilt and then went still, gasping as she clutched his shoulders.
"Move for me, lover," he growled, nipping her collar bone.
She did, grasping at his shoulders, neck, hair, as she picked up the pace, sliding slowly at first over the length of him before she did. Little whimpers and moans bloomed from her throat, and Jareth echoed those noises.
Gloves off, bare skin against skin, she began to sense it. The slow slide of magic, ozone pricking the air just as his teeth pricked her flesh. He palmed a breast, slipping one of her nipples into his mouth, and she shuddered as the first orgasm tore through her, causing her to call out his name.
Jareth broke from her breast, eyes wild as he looked up at her. Then he was flipping them, spreading her legs before driving himself back into her with a force that took her breath away.
"Gods," she whispered. "Jareth—please."
She opened for him fully, eyes fluttering closed as magic flowed through her, like the rush of a spring river. It made every inch of her swell and grow even more sensitive, sensation coursing through her with every harsh thrust that had her pinned to the bed.
Jareth growled, covering her body as his teeth found her throat and bit down.
Distantly, Sarah knew that the mark was something like what he had given her before she had first met Aldric. His teeth worried at her neck, nearly breaking skin, and the pain of it fed into her pleasure, magnifying it.
"Fuck," she cursed. "I'm going to come, Jareth—"
If possible, he delved deeper into her, his hips digging into the soft flesh of her inner thighs, bruising.
Sarah screamed, nails raking down his back as she came apart, followed a moment later by Jareth's own ragged breathing. He started speaking to her in the fluid fae language, and she closed her eyes as magic wove through her, some of it sinking into the places where she had been emptied of her own. He moaned through the words, and then he pumped into her several more times before she was filled with the sensation of liquid fire. She gasped, writhing against the heat filling her, and Jareth flexed within.
"You're so hot," she said, her voice breathy. "Why don't you ever burn?"
Jareth kissed her, all teeth and tongue and insistence. He kissed her until her head spun and she had forgotten the question, warring as she was with the sensation of his tongue on hers. But when he pulled away he said, his voice a contented purr, "I could never hurt you, Sarah mine." He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, the one with the Labyrinth mark on it. The mating brand. His smile was wicked, made of sin and decadence. "Shall I show you again?"
As though to punctuate his words, he stiffened once more within her, his hips taking up a gentle rhythm that had her panting and mewing within an instant. She sighed his name, over and over, as her answer.
"Jareth."
"Jareth."
"Jareth…"
###
Sarah woke to dawn light streaming through her windows, and fingertips like brands tracing spiraling patterns down her spine. Lips followed a moment later, along with the tickling of silken strands of hair. "The wards are still raised, my love."
"Mm," she murmured, body deliciously sore in a myriad of places. "How long was I asleep?"
"About two hours," he said, moving to kneel between her thighs.
Jareth grasped her hips and raised them. She happily complied, sighing as he slid inside of her. The sensation of his heat was both soothing and thrilling. She rocked against him, her eyes still closed as his fingers gripped and smoothed, and magic ebbed and flow between them, swelling as sure as the tide and her own cresting pleasure.
"Please," she begged when his hand began making its way to where their bodies joined. "Gods, Jareth, touch me."
He did, and soon she was doing more than moaning. She was crying out until her voice grew hoarse, consumed by the fiery heat of him and the deft circles he swirled over her clit. Even with her eyes open, her hair and her position kept her from seeing him as he drove into her with increased ferocity, and still he kept up the delicious pressure on her bud.
Nothing had ever been like this.
She had felt pleasure in bed, for sure, but nothing that came close to these decadent sensations.
"Mine," Jareth growled, slamming into her.
"Mine," she agreed, her voice a gasp that seemed to send him over the edge at last.
For that's what this was, she knew, as he emptied into her in spasms, his hips giving small, involuntary-feeling jerks. She did not belong to him.
They belonged to each other.
And in her heart of hearts, she knew what that meant.
She closed her eyes again, the burn of tears in her nose and behind her closed lids.
Jareth seemed to sense it. For the moment he pulled from her, he was gathering her in his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin as he rocked her, the motion gentle as a ship in a calm sea.
"Oh, love," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "What is it?"
Sarah clutched at him. "I don't want to lose you," she whispered.
"You won't," he said, a conviction in his voice that bordered on smugness. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm stuck here, after all."
She gripped his bicep and snuggled closer against him, inhaling his scent. He smelled of sex and magic, sweat and ozone. "I mean when you go back to the Goblin City."
Jareth went still.
Sarah drew in a deep breath and pulled back enough to gaze at him, knowing that she looked a mess—her hair probably wild and tangled from hours between the sheets, and her eyes shining with unshed tears—and said, "I love you. Ask me again."
His palms cupped her face and mismatched eyes burned with something purer than she had ever seen from him before—hope. "One last time, then. Will you return with me to the Goblin Kingdom? Would you join as my ally and equal? My Queen?"
She trembled, but she could not look away. "Yes."
###
Sarah could not stop kissing him.
"My Queen," he murmured, his breath in her ear, his hands parting her thighs. "My love."
She sighed and whimpered as he speared her once more, her already sensitive body crying out in need of him. Jareth was slow, his motions languid, as though he, too, could feel every centimeter of movement as deliciously raw as she.
At first, she thought she had fallen back into sleep while he was still within her, but then, as the breeze tickled her cheek once more, Sarah opened her eyes fully to behold the aisling Jareth had created around them. She opened her mouth to ask about the mossy bank they now lay on, and the crystalline lake beyond, but then he was moving again and what came out was a low moan.
Jareth took his pleasure and coaxed hers ever higher until tears fell into her hair and his own harsh breath was against her flesh as he spilled himself within her.
Time continued on, but Sarah felt outside of it. Jareth still within her, the subtle shift of birdsong and rustle of wind through the canopy of leaves above them.
When she finally found her voice, it was a rasp. "Where are we?"
Jareth kissed the corner of her mouth and pulled from her, summoning a glass of water that he handed to her with some mild concern on his expression.
Sarah drank greedily, then asked, "What's wrong?"
"I forget you are mortal, precious, touched or no." He nuzzled at her neck, nipping at the spot he had marked her with. "As much as I want to stop time and delight in your body until I'm satisfied, I fear you need your rest."
She frowned at him. "Are you saying I don't have your stamina?"
He gave a laugh. "Come swimming with me."
Sarah wanted to lash out at him, aware that he had avoided the questions, but when he helped her to her feet, she felt the truth of his words. Legs unsteady, she leaned heavily on Jareth, who put his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss into her hair.
"This won't be for long," he said, his voice a rumble against her ear. "When we marry, I can ask a boon of the Labyrinth for our new Queen. I will ask it to help sustain you." He chuckled and led her to the shores of the lake, lined with flat, rounded pebbles that slipped a little under her bare feet. "How long do you want to live, my love? A thousand years? Two?"
Sarah's head swam a little, and her stomach flipped at the words when we marry.
Of course, she thought to herself. If I'm to be Queen, I must be wed to the King… this is where it was going to lead, eventually.
But another voice sliced through her mind, bringing with it a twinge of guilt. I love you. Stay with me.
She tried to clear her head as Jareth continued to pull her into the water, which was cool but not cold. The lakeshore was filled with small blue and silver fish that darted about, swimming up to investigate the visitors as soon as they were still.
Sarah wondered again if she had just done something incredibly foolish, telling Jareth her feelings and letting him spend the night with her. By saying yes, at last, to his question of taking up the queenship.
Yes, she had said to him, so many times over the last ten hours. Sighed and moaned and cried out into the night. A million times, yes.
But when she looked at him now, he was gazing out at the mountains that were reflected in the glassy surface of the water, expression far more serene than she had ever seen it. It was not the look of a villain or a conqueror. It was the look of a man in love.
Sarah reached up and touched his cheek, bringing his focus back to her, and the rest of the world fell away as it often did when his attention was wholly on her. "What is it, precious?" he asked.
They were waist-deep in the water. Sarah leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat, tasting the salt of his sweat upon her lips. A low growl built from his chest, but she pulled away. "No more talk of forever, at least for now," she said. "Let me enjoy this for what it is before we plan our entire future."
His hands traced up her back and buried themselves in her hair, tugging a little. "You are in love with royalty. I'm afraid excessive planning is part of our duties."
"Then give me a week," she said, trying not to moan as fingernails scraped against her scalp. "A week for just the two of us. No future talk. Just this." She kissed him again, to stress her point.
"A week," he repeated, his voice low as he looked at her with desire in his eyes. "You may have it, Sarah mine. Consider it the first of many gifts."
She pressed against him, fish occasionally darting in and tickling her legs. "Is this like the very first gift you offered me, where I have to give up something else?"
"Never you. Never again," he murmured, bending down to run the tip of his nose along the bridge of hers. "It may be in the nature of the fae to extract promises for presents, but that is not what this is, my love. I will place the stars at your feet, if you but ask."
###
They swam in the waters of the lake and made love on the shoreline once more before Jareth summoned back her bedroom, and Sarah fell into a deep sleep.
When next she woke, cocooned in her comforter, it was to the delicious smell of cooking food and the gentle murmur of conversation and laughter from her kitchen. She stretched and her hand smacked into a piece of paper set on the pillow by her side. Picking up the heavy parchment, she blinked a few times to get the sleep out of her eyes before reading.
Precious—
I hope you found your rest. When you wake, try the second door in your bedroom.
It's a present. Think of it as a taste of what's to come.
Jareth
Sarah furrowed her brow. "Second door?" she muttered, peering around the room. But there it was, right between her dresser and her floor-length mirror, looking as though it had always been there.
From its placement, the door should have led straight into the living room, but when Sarah tried it—still wrapped in sheets, the length trailing behind her—it swung open on silent hinges to reveal a private bathroom.
Sarah hesitated for but a moment before dropping the sheet and stepping into the mosaic-tiled room. Done in hues of blue and gray, it masterfully combined modernism and classic architecture. The only thing that was missing on her first look were windows, but the soaring ceiling covered in murals with an honest-to-goodness crystal ballroom chandelier suspended from the middle meant the room felt open and airy instead of stuffy.
Mirrors lined one wall, but Sarah barely noticed them as her attention was taken up by the sunken tub that looked the size of an outdoor Jacuzzi. It was filling with clear water before her eyes, the air perfumed with steam that smelled of jasmine and almonds.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and Sarah grinned. In some respects, this was exactly what her young heart had always wanted. To be spoiled and pampered by a powerful figure? It was a dozen dreams come true.
But she also knew that all of this would come at a price. For all that Jareth had said that she could return to her own world, and to have a life both here and there, it would not last, would it? Eventually, everyone she knew would grow old, would die, and then all of her life would be wrapped up in Jareth and the Underground.
She pushed the thoughts aside and sank down into the water.
It, like Jareth, was nearly scalding, yet when she sank down to her neck, she moaned with the pleasure of it. Softening sore muscles and filling her nose with the delicious sweetness of flowers.
As the water lapped at her throat, a sting brought her attention to the mark Jareth had left on her skin. She moved to the edge of the pool and peered at the floor-length mirrors along the one wall, craning her long neck to see the full effect.
"Gods, Jareth," she whispered, tracing the edges of the mark. It was an angry purple and red, and a near-perfect indent of his sharp, crooked teeth. The moment her fingertips touched it, sensation zipped down to her core, making her rock against the wall of the enormous tub.
Flushing, she sank back into the water, turning resolutely away from her reflection and casting about for toiletries. She found some on a tray balanced along the corner of the hexagonal pool.
After she finished her bath—which she luxuriated in for nearly half an hour—Sarah rose to find a warm towel waiting for her, long enough to cover her from breast to knee. Wrapped in its fluffy folds, she explored the rest of the large space and found another note pinned to a door she had not noticed before.
Sarah—
Another gift. One I hope you enjoy.
J
She could not keep the grin off her face as she reached for the handle and pulled the door open to reveal another room, half as large as the bath, filled with—
"Woah," she whispered, mouth falling open. "Is this for real?"
It was the wardrobe of her fantasies. She almost hesitated to step within, certain it was a mirage or a too-real painting. The closet was well lit from above, the ceiling strung with crystal beads and glittering pearls. Immediately before her was a chaise lounge upholstered in a creamy fabric that begged for her touch. At the head of the chaise was a chest of drawers that she was immediately drawn to, the wood polished to such a sheen that it glowed from the overhead lights.
Sarah choked and took a step back upon opening the first of over twenty shallow drawers. Inside, set on black velvet, were a pair of earrings, bracelet, and necklace in heavy gold set with garnets. She swallowed. Garnet or rubies? She could not tell the difference, only knew intricate, fine craftsmanship when she saw it. Knew when something was worth more than what she would see in five years, maybe ten.
She lifted her gaze to the gowns hanging before her. Organza and silk, lace and embroidery so fine it looked like frost. Jeweled tones, rich creams, and, of course, black.
Her mouth grew dry, and she slid the drawer closed, abandoning the chest of treasures to examine a ceiling-high set of shelves lined with shoes of all kinds. Then, as her eyes passed across the rest of the room, she smiled to note that not all the garments were those that one would wear to court or to a ball. No, here were riding leathers and hunting jackets, fine-wrought armor and chain mail, and there near the door was a selection of incredibly modern-looking workout and lounge attire.
Though, Sarah noted, they had far more seductive cuts than anything she might have selected for herself. And all a subtle display of wealth. Is all of it magic? A part of her sensed that no, not all of it. The clothes, the jewels, the furniture? They all seemed to resonate with a permanence unlike the rest of what she interacted with.
Just how long have you been planning my rise to the Queenship? She wanted to ask.
Instead, she took her time admiring herself with several outfits in the tri-fold mirror before selecting a sleeveless black turtleneck, charcoal trousers, and a plain but elegant silver necklace from the treasure chest. It held a pendant set with an opal the size of her thumb. It blazed with blue-green fire, and as she fingered it nervously where it hung beneath her breasts, she noticed how it caught the light and blazed.
Despite her relatively plain garments, Sarah could not help but notice the fine cut of the cloth and the richness of the fabric. She was even standing differently. More assured.
Queenly.
Shaking herself, Sarah emerged from the bathroom barefoot, and so made no noise as she rounded the hall into the living room.
Jareth's eyes found her immediately, and she noted the approval there. A smile quirked the corner of his lips as his gaze roved down her figure and back up. She barely saw the others. Her brother sitting on one of the stools, a forkful of pasta midway to his mouth, Rico the goblin lounging nearby, watching everything.
Rico snickered as he looked at them. "Need a room?" Then he lifted his snout into the air, nostrils quivering. "Hey, wait a minute—"
"Do not," Sarah spat out. "Smell me."
The policeman-turned-goblin feature's darkened in what she surmised to be a flush.
But it was too late.
Toby dropped his fork with a clatter, looking between Jareth and Sarah. The Goblin King—clothed in his typical attire, charcoal and black as though he had known exactly what Sarah would select—folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the counter in the kitchen, smirking.
Sarah wanted to strangle him.
"What—wait, I thought you hated him!" her brother cried.
Jareth tilted his head. "Love and hate are often two faces of the same coin."
Sarah went to him, her feet moving without conscious thought toward the sound of his voice. She wished in a flash that they were alone again, and when his gaze caught hers, it darkened with knowledge that said he knew what she was thinking.
The kitchen was thick with the smell of baking and cooking, a pot half-filled with pasta tortellini in a thick red sauce steaming on a trivet to the side as many copper pots and pans that Sarah was sure she had never seen before bubbled and stewed on the stovetop.
Before she could ask him what he was up to, Jareth reached for her and clasped her hands, pulling her close so that he could lay a quick kiss on her cheek, his flyaway hair tickling her skin. Her face burned as Toby made a retching noise and she tore her gaze away from Jareth's playful smirk. "Watch it, punk."
"Does this mean you're going to turn people into goblins, too?" Toby's blue eyes glittered with excitement. "Can you turn me into one?"
"You don't want that, kid," Rico said, clambering up onto the empty stool. "You're going to go to take a piss and lose your mind over what passes for your junk."
Sarah blinked, but Jareth threw his head back and laughed. Rico's complexion darkened and his mouth flapped like a dying fish. Toby was staring at him, a mixture of awe, astonishment, and glee on his face.
"Don't blame the poor creature," Jareth said between chuckles, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close. "Goblins are naturally uncouth. I am sure our esteemed officer is horrified by what he just said. Aren't you?"
"I—" Rico started.
"Of course you are," Jareth finished, waving a hand in dismissal. "Now, my dear," he stroked Sarah's cheek, still holding her in his arms. "There is a delightful array of foods already prepared, but I can make you whatever you wish." His eyes were heavily lidded as he lowered his voice to a purr. "Tell me what you desire."
"Gross," Toby called from the bar.
Sarah shot him a glare, then smiled, leaning into the gloved hand still cupping her cheek. "Just coffee for now."
"Could I tempt you with a croissant?"
Sarah laughed and lifted on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his wide mouth. "Sure."
Author's Note:
Hey everyone,
Thank you for being so patient with me while this story sat here long unattended.
And apologies for such an abrupt ending to the chapter.
Unfortunately, I'm going to have to beg your indulgence and your patience again because, well, things haven't been going very well. Life has gotten loud, difficult, and complex in ways I did not anticipate (do we ever?), and I must attend.
For weeks I sat on this chapter of 31/32 without working on it because it made me feel guilty to work on something that wasn't tied to my income stream, but when I looked it over again recently I realized that I'd much rather it be out and done instead of perfect. And I'd much rather you all have this moment of quiet and sweetness with J&S before Act III of 31/32 comes around and I start slinging all kinds of wicked tricks at you.
That said, again, I'm sorry for the sudden end to the chapter, but really not much else was going to happen. I would have established more of Rico the goblin's and Grown Toby's characters, but otherwise what was going to happen has already happened. Hence why I felt it was good enough ™ to be releasing out into the wild.
Thank you so much to BowieQueen and mrygm and FaerieFord for being my betas on this chapter. Sorry I threw it at you before editing it even a little… hehe, I promise I'll do better next time. Ya'll were great.
Otherwise, my friends, my dears, I am afraid I must bid you good-bye for now. My original fiction beckons. I will be here in spirit, and if you're on the LFFL Facebook group I'll see you around there, but I must refocus my energies, as much as I adore the labyfic world. Trust that I want to be here and I will be back as soon as humanly possible, but I am anticipating it will be early 2022 before we see another updated chapter.
Most likely.
No promises.
Love, and love, and I hope your New Year will go well.
xoxo,
CrimsonSympathy