The Broken Ballroom
There was no time in the ballroom.
The clocks were all frozen. All showing different times, different days.
The music still played, however, and the dancers still danced.
Only Sarah seemed aware of the not-passing of time. How they all were in a sort of stasis. At first, she had thought not needing to go to the bathroom was a boon. How embarrassing, to have to surrender to nature's call in the midst of this finery. But, no. She never felt the urge.
There was no food, but she was never hungry, either. She also never needed to sleep.
And on and on they danced. Laughed. Poured drinks down each other's throats. No food, but plenty of champagne. So much so, she was positively sick of it.
At first that, too, had been enticing. A taste of the forbidden. She was not yet twenty-one, and though she had snuck some drinks with friends, it was always Bud Lite or wine coolers. Champagne, at first, was so much better, finer, than anything she had tasted and so she had guzzled it up. Still did, sometimes, in an effort to sway the mind and change perspective. To do something which would change anything about this damned place.
But, apparently, she could not get drunk, either.
No one spoke beyond frivolities. How are you? Delightful, darling. What a marvelous party. Don't you look beautiful.
Laughter rang from every side, endless.
It echoed in her ears, taunting. Sarah thought she would go mad from all the laughter.
The dress, also, would not come off. And after a while, a puffy white ball gown was the epitome of torture-wear. She would tug at the sleeves and collar, try to undo the buttons, and her fingers would slip, her grip would weaken. It never worked.
Somewhere around what she thought was the second month, she made a map of every inch of the place. It was, she thought, probably the same square footage as her apartment. The one she had been in when all this started. Twelve hundred square feet. A perfect circle.
The edges, the walls, were curved mirrors. They reflected the entire space, and all the people within.
A bubble, out of time.
It was warm. Almost uncomfortably so, but never quite there.
It's not fair, she thought, not for the first time. She had not made a wish. She had not called out to her friends from the Labyrinth, no matter how often she had been tempted to. She had not spoken The Goblin King's name out loud.
So why was she here? She had been going to college, attending classes, working at a bakery overnights and renting out a modest apartment where she was still hoping to sublet the second bedroom. One night she had gone to sleep and woken up here.
"Am I dead?" she asked the next person who passed her, a giggling redhead. The woman glanced sidelong at Sarah and burst into renewed laughter, not bothering to answer as she continued on.
There were twenty-five guests in total. Twelve men, twelve women, and her.
She did not think it a coincidence, that she was the thirteenth woman.
And she waited for him to show up, but he never did.
But she refused to say his name.
Marks she made on the table, the maps she drew, disappeared as she made circuits of the room. If she watched them, if she was near them, they stayed. But the instant she made a turn, and it was out of sight, all those scratches and marks would disappear again.
So it was, day after day after interminable day.
The human mind was not meant for such things. For all these moments without rest. Without a break.
She was surrounded by people, but she was alone. No one truly spoke to her, and even when she sat very still and simply listened to the conversation around her, there was nothing more than mundanities. Your dress is brilliant. Your mask is stunning.
Nothing of use.
No mention of him.
Sarah was lying on the floor after what she assumed was at least a year of this, dress ballooning around her legs and the dancers making easy circuits around her. She was speaking wishes at the chandelier, when everything changed.
"I wish I were free of this place," she said. "I wish I could fall asleep. I wish for food. I wish someone would talk to me."
"There we go," said a very familiar voice. "Something I can work with, at last."
Sarah's palms smacked against the marble floor and she propelled herself upright, half-convinced she had hallucinated those words, that voice.
But there he was. The Goblin King. Jareth.
Wearing the same embroidered gemstone jacket he had worn before, royal blue edged with silver and sapphires, foamy lace at his throat and cuffs.
And his expression was… wary.
She expected her voice to crack, to show the strain of long disuse, but it like all things in this place was in the same shape it had been when she had first gotten here. When she had screamed and screamed and never grown hoarse.
"You!" she said now, taking a step forward and baring her teeth. "What the hell! Why have you done this?"
"This?" he gestured around. "Is to save your life."
Sarah scoffed, then giggled, and then threw her head back and laughed long and loud. There was an edge to that laughter she was loathe to identify, but her mind supplied the word anyway.
Madness.
"I'm going crazy in this place, and you're talking about it saving my life?"
"Dance with me," he said, taking a step toward her and lifting a gloved hand. "I will explain everything."
Sarah trembled but did not resist as he took her hand, then her waist. Her free hand settled on his shoulder, and then he was moving them to the same music which had been playing for over a year. "How long have I been here?" she asked him.
"According to the movement of your world, mere heartbeats. For you? It has been thirteen months. Fitting."
"I don't find that funny," she said, frowning at his slight smile. "I find it fucking sadistic."
Jareth sighed. "I needed you to make a wish. One that I could involve myself in. Something more than just getting you out, freed, or fed. But you were stubborn. You could have simply called my name, and I would have been here sooner. This all could have ended long ago."
The trembling was back, and she stopped them in their slow circle of the room. The other dancers moved around them like water around a boulder. "Don't tell me that. Don't say something like that unless it's true."
"I won't lie to you," he said on a breath. "I vow this. You need not fear deceit from me."
"Well maybe I want to hear a lie!" she said, nails digging into the thick embroidery on his jacket. "I didn't want to know this could have ended, and I…" she could not think of what else to say. It was intense, speaking with someone like this. A rapid back-and-forth that meant worlds to her now, after so long in solitude. She licked her lips, watching him watch her. "Are you going to let me out of here?"
"Yes," he said, tugging her back into their dance. They joined with the others, seamless. "First you must understand the stakes. I cannot tell you all, not yet, but I can tell you as much as possible. Listen to my words carefully, and you can get out of here and live out the rest of your life."
Sarah let out another laugh. This was, indeed, madness. Then she said, "Okay, fine. Give me these words. I'm listening."
"You must make another wish. I am fae. I can grant you your desires. Before you speak, however, consider this: if you return to the Aboveground, you will never again wake. But if you ask to go somewhere else, you will see a long life before you." His grip on her hand tightened. "I am King of the Underground, and a Lord of Time. I can see enough to know what awaits you, should you insist on returning to your old life."
"My old life," Sarah echoed. She let Jareth spin her, colliding with his chest when he brought her back to him. Her fingers slipped over the lace. Touched his neck. His flesh!
Anytime she had reached for one of the other guests, they had shied away.
She had not done this in so long.
"Sarah," Jareth said, pulling her attention back to him.
She was fondling his neck, his hair. She pulled her hand back like it was afire, a flush spreading over her cheeks. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright," he said gently. "Humans respond to fae. We have long history, our species."
"I should not want to touch you. It's absurd," she spat, but her hand was hovering over his chest and they had slowed to a stop on the dance floor again. Laughter around them. Always with the laughter. "You did this on purpose. Deprived me—"
"You had to remain somewhere I could control. These are not real people. They are your memories of that night, long ago. Think of them as powerful ghosts." He lifted his hand, and they all flickered, then disappeared. "There."
The silence was deafening, despite that music still played from somewhere she had never been able to identify. "Can you turn that off, too?" she asked.
Jareth nodded, and then next moment there was—nothing. A ringing absolute nothing that had Sarah's shoulders relaxing. His next words were soothing in the stillness. Melodic despite there was no more melody to attune to. "It was all meant to make you speak a wish. One I could heed. You wished for someone to talk to you, at last. That was specific enough I could come to you and oh, Sarah," his grip on her waist pulled her to him. "Trust I have my own wishes."
Her head was spinning. She felt drunk, or near enough, and it was only Jareth. His presence. "Your own wishes?" she prompted.
He seemed to bite down on his tongue, and he glanced away from her for a moment before being drawn back to her gaze. It was as though he could not help but look at her.
The thought made her toes curl.
"I am not the wisher, I am the giver," he hedged, and she let out a low sound of disappointment. His smile was slow and seduction itself when he heard it. "Why, Sarah, do you care so much about my wishes?"
They were still clasped in the pose of a dance, despite there being no music. The lights caught in his hair and made it molten. He gazed at her, hawkish and still, somehow, despite the words and mannerism, frightening to a very core part of her. The part, she assumed, recognizing him as foreign. Alien. Other.
She swallowed and tilted her head, her ridiculous hairstyle moving only a fraction to one side. "I want to keep talking, while I think over what my wish will be."
"How prudent of you. So unlike, in some ways, than the girl you were when you ran The Labyrinth. Yet the same, I think, deep down," he said. "Why don't you ask a specific question?"
She chewed her lower lip, and his gaze flicked down, absorbing the movement. "Why did you bring me here, other than to save my life? Why do you care?"
"I cannot tell you the answer to your first question, but for your second: I care about any who would conquer The Labyrinth, and you did."
"Have there been others?"
"A long time ago, but many centuries have gone by." His fingers left her hand's grasp and traveled along her sleeve, running up to cup her elbow. "You are the first of the modern era."
"Why won't I wake up, if I go to the Above?" She hated how breathy her voice was, but his fingers kept pressing, traveling. His other hand was going up her spine, teasing the bottom edges of her hair.
Jareth's gaze was hooded. "Your body is in imminent danger. That is all I can say."
Sarah pulled back. "Hold on a second. My body? Does that mean I'm not really here? Am I like those mega ghosts?"
"I have pulled you wholly out of the timestream," he explained. "You are in your body, but you may have noticed you don't have any functions. I have put you in stasis."
She heard what he said and then, like a thunderclap, realized what he meant.
She had been breathing on habit. But even then, there had been times the habit had failed, and she had forgotten. For too-long stretches of time, she had simply not breathed.
Not needed to.
She did in order to speak, and took a breath now. "You can undo this, can't you?" she whispered.
"I can take you out of stasis, yes. I will not, however, until you make your wish. Return to the Above, or go elsewhere."
"Where can I go?" she challenged, and felt like she would cry, only found she could not.
He had been standing apart from her but unmoving for some time, and now she took a half-step toward him. Jareth seemed to relax, and reached for her.
She nearly whimpered at the touch of his hand on her arm, at how he held her and looked at her. It was even more intense than when she had been here the first time, in the peach dream haze. Not only because she was older, but because it had just been so damn long…
"You could go anywhere you like," Jareth murmured. "There are many worlds. You simply need ask."
"The Underground?"
"If you like," he said, and touched her face. The rasp of fine linen against her skin made her shiver, and he noticed. His next words were thick with something that made her belly warm, her core tighten. "I would, very much."
Sarah inhaled, and felt the heaviness in her chest that was her non-beating heart. How had she not noticed it until now? Her blood did not sing in her ears. There were no pulses at wrist or neck. Nothing but a sense of waiting, like the moment just before the heartbeat, the breath, the sigh.
And yet here she was, as the minutes stretched to hours to days to over a year.
Jareth's hand was so close to her that she could smell his particular scent. Herbs, incense, and magic. It made her skin tingle. "I don't like this," she said softly, and his hand immediately started to withdraw.
She captured it, hauling it back to her face. "Not this!" She held him there firmly, eyes narrowed. "I like this fine. I mean that I—" she swallowed at the intensity in his gaze. "I want to feel how my body reacts to yours. I want my damned heart to beat. I want my pulse to race. You understand?"
Jareth's voice was a sigh. "I cannot do that, precious one, until your wish is made. And if you wish to return to your old life? We will have but a few moments once I put you back."
Chills. Chased away by the sensation of his grip on her. A hand splayed at her back, pulling her to him, and the other cupping her face, tilting it up.
"Are you going to kiss me?" she asked.
"Not until it's wholly you again, and only if you wish," he said quietly.
There was that wariness in his gaze again. Sarah tilted her head. "Why the worry?"
He pursed his lips. "Because I fear you will make a choice that will take you beyond even my reach."
"And you want to stay in touch?"
"Very much."
"Why?"
Another smile, at last. "What did your book say? The one where you found the words to fell a king."
It took her a moment to remember what he meant, and then— "What no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl," she quoted. "Was that true?"
"Yes," he said, searching her face, his gaze containing something enormous she did not know how to name. As though he were attempting to communicate something beyond what the book had said, and what he just spoke.
I should step away. I should get as far away from him as I can.
But she could not. It went against every instinct in her, save that one that viewed him as a predator. "Are you going to hurt me?" she asked.
"Never," he said, so fast she could not help but believe him. "I want nothing but for you to be safe."
"And the Above isn't safe?"
"Not for you."
"But you can't tell me why?"
Jareth shook his head.
Sarah blew out a breath before inhaling deep once more. "Can I go somewhere else in the Above? Somewhere that won't be unsafe for me?"
"No," he said, his tone saddened. "I did not act in enough time, precious. I apologize."
She chewed her lower lip, ignoring how he watched her. "If I came to the Underground, to your world, what would that mean? Would I have to run The Labyrinth again?"
"No, never that. You have done so once, its ways will always open to you." His hands ran down her arms. "You could be a guest at my castle," he said softly. "If you wish for work, there is plenty of it. If you wish for leisure? Whatever it is, precious one, and it will be yours. I could help you find a home anywhere in the Underground you find pleasing. Your days would be yours."
Her hands rested on his chest. They stood so close they could have been simply embracing. He was only about an inch taller than her, but with his hair he looked even taller. She studied him, from the tips of that flyaway hair to the points of his leather boots.
He was stunning.
A fae. A king. Someone who purported to love her.
She had not forgotten him. Never that. And yet, she wondered… "Why did you not come to me before?"
"I was awaiting your age of majority. I believe in your world it is now twenty-one." He fidgeted a little. "It is customary among my people to wait until the intended is an adult, before making a more aggressive move."
She let out a chuff of a laugh. "Well, from my perspective I'm nearly twenty-two."
He smiled at her.
"What were you planning to do? A more aggressive move? What does that mean?"
He shrugged. "I am a Lord of Time but also a Master of Dreams. I was planning to visit you in yours. To see if there was… if you retained an interest."
"If you've seen my dreams you know I'm interested," she blurted.
Jareth laughed, exposing his sharp and slightly crooked teeth.
Her face felt warm. "If I wish for the Underground, am I stuck there?"
He stared at her, not answering for long enough she realized he would not, or could not, tell her. He merely watched her, unwavering.
"But there are other worlds?"
Jareth nodded. "Many."
She tilted her head. "I don't know anything about any of them."
"I could tell you, if you like."
Sarah felt like there was a balloon expanding in her chest. Like there was something so pivotal in this moment. Something she could not define, but would in fact define the rest of her life.
She did not want to spend another moment like this. Frozen in time. Unable to feel her heart beating, to change clothes, to eat, to sleep. She did not want to see Jareth in the same finery as what he had worn when she had danced with him previously. She wanted him naked and spread out beneath her. She wanted to take while he gave.
Sarah's mouth parted.
Mismatched eyes flicked down, then back to her. "What is it, precious?"
"I wish—" she halted for half a second, seeing his base panic. The rest of the words came out of her in a rush. "The Goblin King would take me away."
He let out a breath of relief, and the world went dark.
###
Sarah feared the first breath, the first heartbeat, would hurt, but instead it was as sweet as wine. Oxygen filled her lungs, tasting of magic, and a sea of stars greeted her vision as her pulse sped.
Jareth held her, wearing instead of the finery he had been in before a plain black poets shirt and black vest, the rest of his clothes similarly dark. And she was in matching colors, the clothes more something she would have worn to a workout than to a ball.
A clock struck the hour. Thirteen chimes sounded.
Sarah giggled, then laughed as the toll of the bells completed. "You brought me to the Underground."
"To safety, yes," he said. "To someplace I hope you may one day consider home."
She could not look at him. Her eyes were greedily drinking in every sight that was different than that damned room she had been trapped in all this time. Trees soared over her head, branches crossing to block out some of the star and moonlight. Leaves crunched beneath her slippers, and a soft breeze whispered across her skin. She shivered, noticing the little orbs of light that floated in midair. Like moats of pure energy. Ferns and brush hugged the spaces between the trees, and they stood close enough to the edge of the forest that Sarah could see beyond it, where the tree line ended.
The glittering array of The Goblin Kingdom at night. She broke out of the warm circle of Jareth's arms to see it, to take it all in.
He followed, steps keeping pace with hers. The warmth of him at her back.
"Why was the Above dangerous for me?" she asked, still watching the lanternlight. People were moving along the battlement walls encircling the city. They were far away, but she could make out that some held long spears. Others she could not see. "And can I ever go back?"
Gloved thumbs brushed the side of her neck and for a moment she closed her eyes, leaning back. "You can go back," he said softly. "But only on special days. When the barriers between the worlds is thin enough. Samhain. Ostara. They come every one to three turns of the moon, these days. You can always see your family. You can even have them come visit, if you like, though they may find the process disorienting."
"But I can't go back? To live?"
"No, precious," he said, regret tinging the words. "I took you away. By theft, by blood, by oath, are the three ways a mortal comes here, to the Underground. Only one offers a path of return. Theft.
"But there is no one to run The Labyrinth for you, as you were there for your brother Toby. You threaded the needle and made it home once before, but that is not an option for you now. I am sorry," he finished. "That you cannot go back in truth. I only hope you find some happiness here."
She turned her back on the sight before her, and was not shy in touching him. She brushed fingers over his pendant, then his chest, slipping over fabric and flesh. Her gaze watched her own exploration, but she could feel his eyes on her face. "I need to understand why, and then we can discuss happiness."
A deep breath, her hand rising and falling along with his chest. "There was a gas leak in your apartment. I—if I had noticed sooner, I could have interfered before it was too late. As it was, by the time I got to you, you were nearly at death's door. That is one of the realms to which I cannot go, at least not yet. I could not lose you to it."
A gas leak.
Her hands stopped their explorations, and she looked up at him. Stared for ages before laughter burst out of her, so sudden that she bent over with it.
His hand was on her back as she was overcome with a giggle fit, and when she caught sight of his concerned expression it launched her into another. "I just—" she gasped. "I can't believe that after all that—" she took another deep breath, giggled against her hand, then straightened and took a deep, fortifying breath, tears at the corners of her eyes. "All that was because of a gods-damned gas leak. Of all things."
Jareth looked bewildered. "Why…" he trailed off, inarticulate.
"It's just so—" she gestured around them, at the glittering trunks of the trees and the fairy lights floating close enough to his hair to turn it metallic. "It's so mundane. I ran The Labyrinth. I was trapped in a ballroom for over a year, frozen in time, and it was a mother fucking gas leak that tried to do me in."
She huffed, leaned against him, her head tucking against his shoulder. Jareth stiffened for a moment, then his arms wrapped around her. "You're not angry with me?" he asked, the words so soft-spoken that for a moment she thought she had imagined them.
Pulling back, she touched his cheek, slid fingers into his hair. "I'm grateful you saved my life, but maybe something a little more upfront next time, instead of a year-long torture session?"
"It was meant to get you to make a wish, precious. It was a fine line I had to walk, with you being still one of the Above mortals, and not having made an oath or otherwise contracted to be in the Underground. I also had to act on short notice. I figured you would get tired and call for me eventually."
"I never was going to," she proclaimed, fingers still playing with the slippery soft strands of his hair.
"Stubborn," he whispered, closing distance.
Sarah's breath caught, and then his lips pressed to hers.
They kissed, and something about it made the world seem to come together. As though she had been waiting, not just for breath and heartbeat, not just for food and sleep, but for this.
He felt vital. Intensely so.
Jareth kissed her until she tried to shove him against a tree, and he chuckled, pulling back with visible reluctance. "I have been wanting to do that a long while," he said. "It was thirteen months for me, too, my Sarah. Watching you, waiting to hear the right words."
She wanted to wrap around him. Practically was, her arms around him and one leg hooked around him, so she could feel everything. She writhed against that heat and pressure now, and he groaned, forehead pressed to hers.
"Jareth," she said, speaking his name out loud for the first time. "What are the right words now?"
"I could think of a few," he said softly, nuzzling her neck, teeth grazing the flesh there.
"Mm," she hummed, eyes closing as his lips trailed down her chest. "I wish you would take us somewhere a little more private. I wish you would show me just what you've been wanting to do, all these last thirteen months."
"Much," he rasped, lips back at her throat. "I wish to do much and more with you."
He caught her mouth again, and the kiss this time was hungry, hard, biting. Sarah felt dizzy when he released her. "Show me," she demanded.
Jareth grinned.
And then he did.
Author's Note:
*waves*
Hi!
If you're reading any of my long fic, please be advised that they're still in the works, I just have a bajillion projects ongoing right now and everything is getting just dribs and drabs of attention.
For those of you first reading my stories, hiya! I hope you enjoyed this!
Yesterday I was staring down another day of zero words written when I said, to hell with it! I pulled out a prompt book and read the prompt from September 2nd and 3rd. The first was "He/she asked me to dance," and the other was, "Something broken."
Out came this story.
It's a bit of a mess, but I wanted to write it, get it done, and get it out there. I hope you enjoyed! Lemme know what you think 😊
Wishing you all the best,
CrimsonSympathy