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Shattered	By : TarnishedArmour Category: G through L > Labyrinth Views: 7713 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Based upon the work of Jim Henson; specifically Labyrinth, copyright 1986 by Jim Henson & associated parties. I do not own or have legal rights to Labyrinth, etc., or make any profit from them. *Individual disclaimers for other works in

Chapter List
- 27
- 28
- 29
Jareth rested his head in his hands. He was sitting alone in his office, head aching with the frustration that invariably follows a lack of success. Hiroko, the Mages of Grea, and his own mages had all come up empty in the search for the one responsible for the bloodmagic. Seventeen months, and nothing more had been felt of the pervert, not in Grea or in his own realm. It was more than frustrating. It was an indication that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Somewhere. Just not here.
Resigning himself to a never-ending headache, he reflected over the past year and a half, human time. Couric had begun studying magic while Sarah trained with the Lady. They were still lovers, though the stresses and strains of Jareth's kingdom wore on his patience with the young Grean. It wouldn't be so bad if he weren't still so eager to please. Every time Jareth refused attentions, for any reason, he felt like he was kicking a puppy. He had to come up with a solution for the clinginess, but damned if he could see one. He had named the boy his lover, granting him the official title. It was his own damned fault that he'd put himself in this situation, and, by the rules of the road, he couldn't just end the relationship because he still enjoyed Couric's company, especially when he could get him to lighten up a bit. The boy tried. Too hard. If he could just gain a bit more confidence that everything wasn't going to fall down the second he stopped trying…
Might as well try to convince the sun to rise in the north. His head throbbed again with the thought. Jareth decided his current pose wasn't working, so he leaned back in the comfortable leather chair, resting his head against the back, slouching in an undignified manner. But it wasn't just the bloodmage or Couric. There was more. Much more.
Like Karen and Toby. Originally guests, they had worn out the time they had to visit without committing to his realm permanently. It had taken no small amount of hemming and hawing for her to finally take the hint that she had to choose. Hint was probably the wrong word, he was willing to admit.
"Dammit, Karen," Jareth roared. "Time is UP! I cannot keep you here in this world without some sort of commitment from you! Make up your fucking mind!"
Karen stared at Jareth. "What crawled up your ass and died?" she snapped back.
Grinding teeth together and bending his riding crop into a pretzel to keep from using it on her stubborn hide, Jareth glared at her. Then he began speaking, his voice snapping off the words as they were ground out between his teeth and tongue.
"You have been here for eight human months. If you complete this month, the ninth, you will not be able to leave here, not even for a short visit. You will forfeit your rights of citizenship to me, for you and for Toby." He was working on keeping calm. The continued difficulties with the search for the bloodmage had taken its toll on him today. He was out of patience for this one little minor detail that should have been taken care of months ago! Add to that the news of a raid on one of his merchant caravans on a trip across the wastelands, and his time and temper were already at their limits. If only that were all, it was getting worse all over. Other, more intense, situations were reported in daily, from inkingdom and out. Raids on trading caravans in friendlier countries, like the one today, pirates between the nearest seaport kingdom holding the main harbours open to his people-the Labyrinthine Realm did not have a seaport any longer-and Grea, now a firm ally. All of it was gnawing at him, day and night, and this damned woman would not figure out what they wanted! It was enough to drive a madman sane! "I explained this more than once, both before you came here and several times since." At least once a month. Every month. "You continuously put off telling me your decision, demanding time to research the possibilities and consider options. Time is up. You will make up your mind in the next five minutes or I will make it up for you."
Karen took a long breath, releasing it slowly. She had studied, she had read, she had watched Toby fit into this world and this life seamlessly. There were still a few things she didn't know, and she had to get a firm answer before she could give him the reply he demanded.
"Jareth, would you answer two questions for me?" Her voice was calm now. She was sorry she'd snapped back at him. Tension was practically rolling off of him, and the many 'family dinners' she and Toby had with him had been interrupted more than usual in the past few months. She tried to convey her regret for adding to his burden in her eyes and body language.
Jareth closed his eyes and counted to twenty-seven. He nodded slowly, controlling every slow movement.
"If I stay, do I have to run the labyrinth to determine my place here, as citizen, mage, or other station?" That much she thought she had figured out since she started, but she needed to know exactly what she had to do. Nothing about that part was written down. Apparently everyone here knew how it worked.
"Yes. State your intention, then it is up to you to complete the run or opt out, should you feel inferior to the position you desired. After a time, you could reapply for the run." Simple question, simple answer. This was good. One down, one to go. Wasn't that covered in Ogden's History of the Labyrinthine People; the Rules and Law of the Realm? He could have sworn it was. He made a mental note to have one of his librarians confirm this.
Karen took a deep breath and forged ahead. "I've read of countless professions in your realm, Jareth, from scullery maids to lords and ladies of various aspects of your lands. Not once have I seen or encountered anything about dancing. I don't know anything else, Jareth. What else could I do?" Karen stared at him, eyes pleading for some sort of help.
Jareth felt his anger soften. "All this time, all the requests for a little more research, and this is what you need to know?" he wondered. Women never did cease to amaze him. Why didn't she just bloody ask?
"I've never done anything else in my adult life-or really before. Sure, my parents owned a small farm, but I ran away when they died. I was sixteen, determined to dance and survive in the big city. I found a hell of a lot of other things, but ultimately, I danced. My dreams, Jareth. They came true. And when I left the fame and fortune, what fortune there was, behind, I still had dance. I taught dance. I shared the love of sound and music and rhythm with those who were eager to learn it. And I'm damned good," she said, head high. "But I'm only human, Jareth. No magic, no strangely long life. I'm also kissing forty, with precious little of the dance left in me, at least at a professional grade. Tell me, what could I possibly learn and do here? You don't need another maid. I can put together some stylish things, but I'm no decorator."
The last of the frustration left Jareth and he tossed his riding crop, now slightly mangled, to the top of his desk.
"You couldn't bring yourself to share these doubts with me earlier?" he asked, not gently, but not impatiently. Was she really that upset over something so simple? If there wasn't what she needed, she could build it. With his blessing.
"I've tried to stay out of your way," she smiled wryly. "You've had so much to worry about…"
His lips twitched. Busy was not an adequate word for the constant movement in his schedule lately. "Only dinners and the occasional meeting in my library while you studied and I-"
"Snapped out orders to that poor elfin secretary of yours. You sounded like one of my directors." Karen mock-shuddered. "It was terrifying."
Leaning back against his desk, Jareth smirked. It was the first honest smile Karen had seen him wear in months. "You cower before me, I shall be terrifying," he adapted from the story she so loved to quote at him, generally when he was irritable. He usually found her choice of quotes entertaining enough to give her a quick twitch of lips before ratcheting down the intensity for a while. Her company, however infrequent of late, was good for him.
Karen walked over to the now mostly-relaxed man and hugged him hard. "I may fear you," she said softly, "but I do love you, Jareth."
He returned the hug, thankful for the generosity of her heart and the way she could move past his irritation when it was gone. Now, how could she teach Couric the same knack? Just the confidence to do and be who he was? It was a thought… But for right now, he had needed some form of contact. How had she known? He relaxed a bit more with her in his arms, warm and alive and more generous than he deserved, especially after his comments to her a few minutes ago.
"I know, Karen. If you didn't, you'd have given up the dream, forgotten it, years ago." He rested his cheek on her hair and sighed. "As for your profession," he paused. "You could start a dance troupe. It's about time my capital city got a good taste of the arts, not just the usual sculpture and tapestry stuff. Command performances will, of course, be at my leisure."
Karen snorted. "Of course." She thought for a long time. "It could take years," she warned. "A dance troupe can't just be summoned randomly. I'd have to teach, to find a venue, to get backers-"
"I'd back the productions." He sounded almost offended that she'd thought otherwise.
"That's a lot of gold, Jareth, especially if I have to have a theatre built to suit." She pursed her lips. "And there's that other problem with working for royalty."
"Which is?" A rolling note of curiosity infected his voice. He leaned back to look down at her now. She returned his gaze, tilting her head up.
"Getting cancelled and unemployed when I piss you off, which I will, you know. I'll stage something you don't like or schedule one thing when you were in the mood for something else." She shrugged. "It's the way of the theatre."
"Fine," he sighed, propping his chin on her head again. "I'll back no more than half of it. You're on your own to fleece my subjects for the rest." Karen giggled against his shirt.
"Well, there is that other thing, too," she teased.
He groaned. "Oh, out with it, woman!"
"I'm sure I'd piss you off when I refused to sleep with you. Patrons do get upset when advances are rebuffed." Her voice was light and airy, but there was an undertone of gravity that made him stifle a laugh. She tipped her head back again, her eyes more serious than her smile.
"Like you would actually resist me," Jareth snorted. "We both know better."
"Mm. But when Sarah found out and pitched a fit?" she looked smug. Certain. Of his reaction and of Sarah's.
Jareth gave Karen a slow, wicked smile. "What makes you think Sarah wouldn't insist on joining in?" he whispered.
Karen stared up at him. She started to speak several times, then just closed her eyes.
"I really don't want to know if you're joking," she told him. Jareth had only chuckled in response. "She's my stepdaughter, for crying out loud. That's…sick."
"Not really. She's not human anymore. The magic is changing her to what she will ultimately be. There never was a blood relationship, and given that you haven't been close to her father in almost, what, five-and-a-half years now?" At her nod, he continued. "Why would there be a problem?"
"She's half my age." It seemed like a good argument. Jareth just stared at her, eyebrow raised. "Never mind." Karen thought for a moment, then asked, "Wait, what did you mean 'what she will ultimately be'?"
"I mean the magic will change her. She could be magician, human, or race of kings by the end of her journey. I have no idea what she will become, but all of your notions of blood kin and family relationships will be moot. The only thing that will remain of the original Sarah is the outer structure that her body is so used to. She will be…of a different race entirely." Jareth looked down at Karen. "Or did you miss that tidbit in your research?"
"No, I didn't miss it. It just wasn't very clear. It wasn't said," Karen searched for the phrase, "in so many words." She thought for a long time. "So she's not my stepdaughter anymore."
"Have you really thought of her as such for these past years?" Given the way they had interacted, Jareth was surprised to see Karen still considered Sarah as some sort of surrogate daughter. They had seemed more like friends, and separated mostly by age and some experience. The last would be moot by the time Sarah's run was ended.
"I guess not. After we started talking about, well, you and the labyrinth, I guess we just decided to be friends. Or maybe mentor and mentee." Karen smiled. "We were much better friends than we were with the mother-daughter bit. I should have tried that tack with her earlier."
"And then you'd most likely never have met me," Jareth finished, voice and manner dramatic. "Which would be a crying shame, since I'm so damned good-looking."
Karen burst out laughing.
"I'll stay," she said. "Can't resist a fox like you." She simpered up at him, deliberately overdoing it. In return, Jareth mock-preened.
"I knew it," Jareth replied smugly.
Jareth had been pleasantly surprised by the ease with which Karen had run the Outer Lands. She had finished the entire section in two days, including the last three walls Mab used for most humans. Karen, older than most who travelled to his lands, and years ahead of her age in experience, did not have to struggle with the last three walls. She understood desire well, and understood the oath Jareth demanded of her. She swore the same five-fold oath that Sarah had, though his interest in her wasn't nearly what it was in Sarah. She had raised eyebrows when it came to the obey and punish bits, but had also done enough research before making her choice that she recognized the underlying fact of this oath. While she would be considered a citizen of the labyrinth, she would also be sworn directly to him. She would never have a liege lord, not like the other people and towns. The flip side of that was that she would also answer directly to him, with no liege lord to run interference if needed. She couldn't quite figure out why this oath was chosen, which disturbed her slightly. There was little in the way of human motivation that escaped Karen.
The day Jareth placed his mark over her heart had been bittersweet for them both. Yes, she had given in to her desires, but she also knew the price of those desires, almost as well as Jareth did. Given where she was and why she had been able to connect with Sarah, the one with her when she faced her desires hadn't been a surprise to her. Jareth was as generous a lover as she had long imagined he would be. In the end, though, Mab had not fooled her at all. The parting was just as easy as giving in had been.
Sated, she had taken the oath and gotten the little magical tattoo. Immediately thereafter, she had been given an order that Mab was certain she would resist. She had raised an eyebrow at the test of her obedience, but again managed to sail through without difficulty. With everything she had done onstage, a striptease and more in a full tavern, in Gainstock of course, was not a problem. Karen was an exhibitionist, which had gotten her into trouble her entire life. Finally, after submitting gracefully to Jareth's orders, and avoiding his need to punish her, she had been declared a citizen of the labyrinth.
Karen had returned to the castle with Jareth, who had promptly headed into his offices and immersed himself in work. She, on the other hand, had, with Jareth's blessing, scrounged up the seneschal and found a large, wood-floored room that was quickly and magically outfitted with mirrors and a barre. She'd been given a charmed crystal the night the alterations to the room had been made. The crystal, a gift from Jareth over dinner, was enchanted specifically for her when she described the room that had been converted into her studio. The crystal would, like a radio that played on command, procure any song from her home or this world, even ones that had only been sung, never recorded. Karen was enthralled by his gift. She could, she had been assured, hear music played by the masters, the original composers.
Thereafter, the crystal held pride of place in the studio, held by a statuette of a dancing nymph that Karen had brought from her storage unit when she left New Hampshire. He had watched her dance, when he had an odd moment, and found her sense of line and motion breathtaking. It was such a pity she hadn't chosen to become a magician. Her grace, beauty, and talent would be adored for centuries-and not just by him. Several members of his staff and visitors also had heard about the dancer and would stop into her studio while the music played and walk away filled with wonder.
Had Karen not been in his castle these days, he probably would have killed someone, he was that tense. Well, perhaps seriously injured someone that wasn't goblin. Goblins liked getting hurt. It was just something that was built into them. Of course, they also liked causing the hurt. His thoughts wandered back to Karen and something that had surprised them all.
It was during one of her practice pieces, a piece she would use to advertise her new form of art to the capital city, that Karen discovered something that shocked her to her soul.
Karen moved to the wild rhythm of the old standard, surrendering herself to steps she knew so well she could move through them in her sleep. She twisted and turned, feet flying and heart soaring. She leapt, and took flight.
Couric and Jareth, who had come by after lunch to see the promised dance, eventually, stared in awe as Karen leapt into the air, then proceeded to dance without touching the floor again. Karen, it appeared, had an unusual, inborn human magic.
Karen finished her dance and opened her eyes. She saw she was hanging in midair, had time to start a yelp, and came crashing to the floor.
Jareth and Couric moved quickly to help her. After ascertaining that she was only slightly injured and mostly just bruised, they listened to her as she stuttered out a question. Jareth smiled at the utter predictability of it.
"The hell was," he replied, "that you have always had magic in you. Some humans do." He shrugged. "Such is life."
"My fine, feathered fanny it is!" Karen snapped back, now indignant. "I was floating in midair, Jareth. Not…whatever it is you do with magic around here."
"Practically anything," Couric offered, not noticing the many, many signals Karen was sending out. Every signal shouted, EXPLAIN NOW OR ELSE!, but it wasn't the mundane uses of magic she wanted explained. He would have continued, but Jareth interrupted him, saving his royal lover from severe bodily harm at the hands of one Karen Souter.
"Couric, run check with the secretary and check my schedule for the rest of the day." The young man muttered an obsequious reply and did just that. Jareth turned back to Karen, smiling gently. "There are some humans, mostly artists, who have the ability to bring their art or passion to life, even in your world."
"I know," Karen replied. "I could have been one of them-"
"But you chose to leave that world, yes, I know. Hush." Jareth's pursed lips and faraway look made her eyes narrow. She wanted answers now. "It would seem that your time here, and your practice in your rooms, has awakened that gift in you again. You may have put it aside for a time, but magic, once revealed, is rarely ever completely faded. Your magic is the charisma you have, the beauty and joy that shines so brightly through your art. It is art based, but here it is also a very real magic." He grinned at her. "On the bright side, it means that you will have the opportunity to age slowly, that your body will begin to reflect your heart, not the chronological age that your human form demands, and you will study magic."
Karen's mouth opened and then closed slowly. Magic. Her. She'd always felt a little something more when she was in the spotlight, on stage. Now she had the opportunity to really become a part of this realm. Oh, she'd start a dance school, but it wouldn't be for some time yet.
Jareth looked at Karen, a bit concerned, when she started laughing. When she hugged him and kissed him passionately, he figured she hadn't lost her mind and was rather pleased with the way things had turned out. His meeting would have been unavoidably delayed had he not slipped them into the broken moments. He was more than willing to accept credit for this, and she was more than willing to give it. It was good to be the king.
She had been training in magic every day since then. She was, like Sarah, a quick study, but she had some of the oddest problems with what magic could do and couldn't do. The discussions they'd had over dinner had been vastly entertaining, especially since Couric was also studying magic and had his own ideas about it. Despite the constant pressures, the wonder and, yes, ignorance of his companions made him feel younger, less jaded. And Toby was a sheer joy.
The thought of Toby lessened his headache a bit. He loved children and desperately wanted his own. Until then, though, Toby would have to do. He saw the child seldom enough now. He had been alone for so long, but just recently the loneliness had been gnawing at him. He wanted Sarah, here, with him. Beside him. In his bed. Carrying his child. Holding their babe on her hip, even as she glared at him for something he'd said or done. Laughing and spinning around, their child held between them as they danced. Oh, he missed Sarah. She was to blame for the aching loneliness that haunted him. Since he'd introduced her to this run to be his Queen, the thought of her here beside him taunted him. He was not devoid of bedpartners, but none of them had the same wild effect on his magic as she did. He was, he admitted to himself, addicted. The others were pleasant company, a physical release and relief, but not the same.
In the months since discovering her magic, Karen had also joined Jareth more than once in his bed. By his own request, she had taken Couric under her wing and was teaching him to dance, among other things. The confidence he'd hoped would begin to rub off on the boy hadn't taken yet, but Karen was delightful company, whether she was giving him a little bit of hell over dinner, dancing for or with him in her studio, or, on the rare occasion, giving him much, much more personal attention. She had wonderful hands, and he considered asking her for a massage before he went to bed. He dismissed the thought, knowing he was simply too tired for their form of providing comfort for one another.
Neither one deluded themselves about love and their relationship. When the nights became too lonely, when the need for one who understood the demands of being always "on" became too great, they would find each other. It was enough, for now.
While he waited. And hoped.
Sarah, his heart whispered. "Hurry," he breathed to the air.
The thought of her stirred him to pick up the latest crystal she had duplicated. Every month since they had last spoken, he had sent her a crystal. Every month, she had dutifully duplicated it and left it for him to pick up. The first crystal had been almost tired in its magic, reflecting the state of the young woman. Since then, though, the depth and strength of the magic had grown rapidly.
This last crystal was many times more potent than her first feeble efforts, but still a far cry from his own heavy power. Then, she was not Queen yet, merely a girl in training.
And what training it had turned out to be. He smiled as he remembered their first encounter after she had accepted the terms of Redok's tutelage. The need for him to be apart from her, to keep his hands off of her, was well-known to him. He had endured the same thing, though not recently. He did worry, though, about how their magic would respond when they were together again. Transporting them to the wastelands was becoming dangerous. Though the lands were technically his, the borders were fuzzy, and other countries claimed part of the vast wastes. Now that some of those relationships were deteriorating, the wastelands were becoming a part of the hostilities. Even there, in lands he knew were deep in the heart of his claim, he was always, as Karen phrased it, on. On stage. On display. Excepting the broken moments, he never knew when or where he would be the subject of a spy's gaze.
He chuckled to himself as he remembered her sweet pleas for him to stop teasing her and let her learn…
"…properly," she had said, squirming away from his seeking hands. They were in her bedroom at the inn. "Jareth, please. This is important to me!"
"As is this to me," he replied, catching her arm and spinning her back into his embrace. Without giving her a chance to protest, he claimed her lips in a long, passionate kiss. "Can't you tell?"
"This is sex, Jareth," she'd growled back. "Yes, I love you, but this can wait-"
Her words were muffled by his rather decisive removal of her shirt. The touch of his hands on her bare bruised flesh made her moan, melt into him, then shake her head and try to push him away. He was enjoying himself immensely.
"Are you trying to tell me," he asked, lips skimming over her skin, "this is only a little sex game to you?"
"No," she had stopped sighing and finally peeled him off of her, then ran around to the other side of her bed. "I'm trying to tell you that I made a bargain, and I'd like to be able to keep my word."
"Oh, so you don't want to be foresworn, is that it?" he'd teased, knowing she'd never say she would deny him sex if he demanded it-or anything else. She'd learned that lesson very well. "And did you inform your master that you answer to me, in all ways?"
"I did," she confessed, shoulders slumping. "He told me to ask if you would, how did he put it? If you would 'graciously accede to this request.' Apparently," she added, giving him a sharp look, "being tired from night-games and working to learn fighting skills with various kinds of lethal weapons and magic don't mix very well."
"They don't," Jareth had affirmed, walking slowly around the bed. He was surprised when she stood her ground instead of fleeing. "However, I do know what your magic will do if it is not properly tested and stimulated on a regular basis."
Sarah closed her eyes in defeat. That was one point she knew she couldn't fight him on. It was a frightening thought for her, that same wild reach of her magic. Even now, it pulled her to him, wanting even as her body wanted. Somehow, even before she'd begun with her request, she'd known she would lose this little skirmish.
Jareth's arms went around her, this time gently. She did not resist his embrace, and he tucked her close to him, revelling in her soft curves. This was the last time, he knew, that she would be so delightfully rounded, so…unformed in her magic and her musculature. The next time he would hold her, she would have muscles pulled tight and toned, none of the gentle roundness of arm and leg, and her cheekbones would be sharpened by the grueling, constant exercise and a few more months of age.
"Let me love you tonight, in the broken moments," he'd murmured. "I promise you'll get plenty of sleep to be rested for Redok in the morning."
Closing her eyes, Sarah had acquiesced. That had been one month after she had started her lessons, on the one free day Redok granted her during each seven-day cycle. Conveniently called weeks, this was her weekend. Today, Jareth had brought her a crystal sphere to duplicate so he could check her progress. She'd done so, he had seemed pleased, and then they had fought. Then she had given in and they had taken their time in those broken moments, feasting before the famine began.
Sixteen long months had passed since that night, their moments together rushed and tinged with sore and tired bodies. They spent their stolen moments together talking, discussing training and magic and, after receiving Redok's permission, Sarah demonstrating for and with her king what she had learned.
Sixteen long, long months with nothing but a sustained longing building between them and the promise of 'soon' lingering in the air.
Sixteen months, for Jareth, was soon-except when it involved Sarah. Then it became an eternity.
Jareth rubbed his temples. His headache was no longer shrieking at him, just grumbling and occasionally snapping. He would visit her tonight, see how she progressed. Hold her close and let her nearness soothe him, even as he ached for more.
Yes, he could-should-check the crystal recording her progress, that much was true, but he preferred to see her in person every so often.
After a day like today, he felt he was allowed one indulgence.
Arriving unannounced in Sarah's room was not dangerous-for him. For anyone else, it would lead to grievous bodily harm, perhaps followed by an apology or perhaps followed with more harm. Jareth smiled as she stiffened, her back to him. She felt his magic.
He saw Sarah, clad in her towel and brushing out her damp hair, turn suddenly to face him. With a smile bright as the sun, she flew into his arms and whispered, "Stop time, lover."
Then she wrapped her lips around his earlobe and her hands began peeling his clothing from him with a speed that left him gasping. She was using magic to help her, and it thrilled through him. He felt his magic respond, and, ironically, his headache came back with the surge and pulse of the magic within. Head pounding, body and magic responding despite his intentions, he returned the caress. Then he pulled them into the broken moments. The vixen!
Jareth shuddered, knowing he could not give her the kind of attention she craved tonight. This time, he let her lead. This need had been building in them both for months, but he was just too tired to do anything other than lay back and enjoy her enthusiastic welcome. Next time, he would give her what he had promised when he left.
After he was rested.
Sarah felt the smoke and flash of Jareth's return to her room. There was no flame, no smoke, but that's what his translocation felt like to her now. A sudden fire in the room. In her blood, her magic, her heart. Without thinking, she flew into his arms and whispered to him to stop time. Another ripple of magic assured her he had done so. Her joy at being free of the strictures of her training had overwhelmed her. In turn, she had overwhelmed him. She was sated, yes, but not satisfied. He had been so tired…
Now she lay with his head pillowed on her breasts, her arms wrapped around him. She was much more relaxed, less tense. Smiling at his unusually passive response to her, she knew he was exhausted in more ways than she had ever seen. He had been tired, obviously so, when she had gotten Toby back. He had been tired after their long romps in bed, and so had she. Stress and long days had been worn on his face, in the tightness of his eyes, the little frown lines that rode between his eyes almost constantly now. And now, after giving him more relaxation than he'd had, through her magic and physical massage and pleasure, Sarah let her king sleep, safe in her arms.
Should anyone try to enter their room, even in the broken moments, she would do everything in her power to keep him safe. Oh, she knew he was a better fighter than she was. He had years more of experience. Something in his vulnerability this night, though, had roused her protective instincts. It was odd, but she was protective of this man who could still, after all her training, crush her if he so chose. It had taken her some time to figure that out, and finally she had. Oh, she'd complained about him many times, to Karen, to various inanimate objects, even to his face, but she had found herself defending him more than once to her companions in the village and her armsmaster. She'd even defended him to Tolliver and Oliver when he'd brought in his "slightly dented" armour. If that had been slightly dented, she did not want to see badly used!
Tolliver had torn into Jareth like he was a new adventurer, not a king. She had heard the tirade Tolliver had been on in the forge while she took over the counter for Oliver. She hadn't been working at the Grey Gosil yet, and she had agreed to watch the store for Oliver in exchange for a new clip for her braid. Loose hair was not acceptable in the salle. Had she ever heard that particular set of words strung together like that? Very few people would dare to call Jareth such things, and Tolliver seemed to be one of those few. There had been a moment of quiet, Tolliver's tirade finally over, and she'd strained to hear Jareth's response. His patient, "Yes, but can you fix it?" had sent the elderly smith into a fine display of temper. Sarah laughed to think about it. She'd poked her head in the back, wondering what was getting thrown around, and saw Jareth dodge one of his own gauntlets. From the expression on his face, he had been highly entertained by the Mastersmith.
And now, all of that mischief and joy was overwhelmed with the cares of the kingdom. That same smiling face was creased with worry and tension. She looked down at him, saw the aggravation and careworn features peaceful in sleep. Gently, she swept her magic over him, refreshing him even more. Sarah ran her fingers through his hair and heard him mumble softly against her skin, either from the caress or the gentle wash of her magic.
Oh, he was tired. Rarely had he ever slept this long without completely exhausting both of them with the sexual feast and sensual torture at which he excelled. Now, though, it was something less pleasant that pulled at the skin by his eyes, that made him seem older. He did seem older, now, but it wasn't the years. That appearance had remained the same. He was…worn down, almost haggard, from the stresses of things she couldn't hear about yet. Repeatedly, no matter how often she had nagged, asked, pleaded, or demanded, he refused to distract her by giving her information that may harm her run of the labyrinth.
Instead, he kept all of his pressures of his reign to himself. In the past seventeen months, well, sixteen since she had last bedded him, she had anticipated having all of his hungry appetites to herself, of feasting upon each other and indulging the long-denied desires they shared. They would spend days, even weeks, in the broken moments, lost in one another. After slaking her thirst for him, removing the immediacy of her need, after seeing him so worn in body and soul, she knew she could wait until he was stronger, rested, and less stressed to demand everything from him. And, in the broken moments, he would indulge her. And himself.
Relaxing with his weight pressing her into the mattress, more than one dagger hidden in and around her in easy reach-broken moments or not, she would not risk her king-Sarah reflected that she had somehow developed a deep faith in her lover. It wasn't faith that he would never take another to his bed or keep her as only his own or be only kind and gentle with her or even that he would indulge her every desire. It was deeper, more enduring kind of faith. Whether she succeeded or failed his Tests, she knew would always be his beloved. If she did not become his Queen, if she was his consort, she would still be his beloved. If she faded and died, as others had before her, she would, as they had been, remain one of his beloved consorts. He would always try to protect her, even from herself, as he had more than once before. Even when she hadn't needed his help, like on Granite Mountain. Even when he had had to hurt her to do so, he had given her the tools to protect herself if he was barred from doing so.
One moment, an utterly ordinary moment in her life here in the village, Sarah realized that she had given Jareth not only her obedience, but also her faith and trust. From these came a powerful loyalty, the same loyalty that made her feel so deeply protective of the man who would protect her before himself. That strange sense of peacefulness she had discovered so long ago, a discovery made while she endured the pain from his hands, came to her again in these broken moments with her beloved so gracelessly passed out in her arms, weighing her down.
In these peaceful, gentle moments, she realized that he had developed the same kind of hopeful faith in her. She was determined not to fail him, vowing to herself anew that she would become his Queen. Every action this night spoke to her now, telling her that he trusted her in ways that he did not trust any other. He slept, truly slept, unguarded in her arms. The peace within her swelled into sleepiness, and she slowly succumbed to her own need for rest.
Sarah slept that night as she hadn't in over four years, since before she entered the labyrinth for the first time.
Jareth trusted her with himself, and all was well.
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Shattered