Magic Mirror

Pursuit

There is a panther stalks me down:
One day I'll have my death of him;
His greed has set the woods aflame,
He prowls more lordly than the sun.
Most soft, most suavely glides that step,
Advancing always at my back;
From gaunt hemlock, rooks croak havoc:
The hunt is on, and sprung the trap.
Flayed by thorns I trek the rocks,
Haggard through the hot white noon.
Along red network of his veins
What fires run, what craving wakes?
Insatiate, he ransacks the land
Condemned by our ancestral fault,
Crying: blood, let blood be spilt;
Meat must glut his mouth's raw wound.
Keen the rending teeth and sweet
The singeing fury of his fur;
His kisses parch, each paw's a briar,
Doom consummates that appetite.
In the wake of this fierce cat,
Kindled like torches for his joy,
Charred and ravened women lie,
Become his starving body's bait.
Now hills hatch menace, spawning shade;
Midnight cloaks the sultry grove;
The black marauder, hauled by love
On fluent haunches, keeps my speed.
Behind snarled thickets of my eyes
Lurks the lithe one; in dreams' ambush
Bright those claws that mar the flesh
And hungry, hungry, those taut thighs.
His ardor snares me, lights the trees,
And I run flaring in my skin;
What lull, what cool can lap me in
When burns and brands that yellow gaze?
I hurl my heart to halt his pace,
To quench his thirst I squander blood;
He eats, and still his need seeks food,
Compels a total sacrifice.
His voice waylays me, spells a trance,
The gutted forest falls to ash;
Appalled by secret want, I rush
From such assault of radiance.
Entering the tower of my fears,
I shut my doors on that dark guilt,
I bolt the door, each door I bolt.
Blood quickens, gonging in my ears:
The panther's tread is on the stairs,
Coming up and up the stairs.

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From the Journal of Sarah Williams ...

I am frantic, I am hopeless. The greatest fear is my desire now. Powers that be...help me. There is but one, one true power, and I cannot break it from me. I cannot free myself from his chains...even if offered the chance I don't think I would! I am helpless before him. I fear him, but I can't allow myself to break from him. I need him, and I grow sick, I wither without his torturous dreams. I savor his nightmares. Endless are days and nights, unless I can find who –

I've got a much better plan...

Left with little choice, Sarah stayed close behind the tail-feathers of the great white owl as strange winds and storm battered her small body through the journey. In a timeless space, it finally ended, and she found herself on her knees, in short yellowed grass, overlooking the dried corpse of the swamp. Dead trees, weathered, pitted stone. As far as the eye could see, it might as well have been black and white. Her hands feebly clutched at the dry soil, as if the roughness of its texture could offer any reassurance. When she finally sat up and glanced behind her, she saw Jareth stood mere inches away. His boots scuffed against the earth.

“The glorious and magical kingdom – it's quite beautiful, isn't it my dear?” He grasped her hair to pull her to her feet, tugging roughly.

She opened her mouth to protest, but gaped, realizing she couldn't speak.

He smirked, and her stomach turned uneasily. “No time for arguing, precious thing. We have much work to do, you and I.” She got up quickly and he took her arm with little gentleness. She worked to keep pace with him as they walked across the expansive wasteland. It was neither hot nor cold, but the haze had already begun to clear, and above them real clouds gathered, heralding a storm.

The Goblin King looked pleased. “Already the Underground greets us, fair one. Hurry along, now.”

When she finally realized she could speak again, she did so cautiously. “How did you do that?”

“Do what, dear Sarah?”

“You stopped me from speaking...”

He smirked again, clearly enjoying himself, and pulled her against him as he came to a short stop. “You know, I'm sure, that the Fae do not lie. To come once more, you did have to wish yourself here – as you see, I have less power now than I did before. But you have given it back to me, my dear, with your wish.”

“You have no power over me.”

The words echoed, though unspoken. Jareth watched the emotions play across her face with a controlled expression.

“You can force me to do anything...”

“Technically, yes. But I cannot force you to think or want for anything. If you hate me, I cannot change that. If you do not cooperate with me, willingly, I cannot bring back the Labyrinth.” He watched her. “We cannot revive the Labyrinth.”

Sarah avoided his eyes. “...and you'll do your very best to convince me.”

His hand cupped her chin, and he brought her face to his, placing them cheek to cheek, and nipped her ear. She whimpered, fearful but anxious for the promise it held. The air suddenly felt warm, balmy.

“You're mine, Sarah. You can like it or not, but that fact won't change. If you come willingly, the Labyrinth can be restored in both our image. If you do not...” he let it linger.

Her body trembled against his now, less fearful than enraptured. A moment of heat passed between them, the center of her body pulsed and she clenched her eyes shut, shuddering. His hands were suddenly encircling her waist, his thumbs pressing lightly into her shirt, then slowly, terribly slowly, they crept along her ribcage, tempting her to beg him for more, to beg him to touch her breasts, to let his hands spill across it, to bruise and batter that pale, pure, beautiful untouched secret place.

“Are you doing this to me?” Her voice was low, strangled by desire.

He laughed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Magic-” she whimpered, as his hands crept beneath her shirt, grazing the underside of her breasts, so lightly.

“Are you using – magic.”

He leaned in to her neck, biting softly. She sighed, and gripped his arms tightly. One finger pinched at the delicate skin. “Oh, precious thing, I have no need to...”

“No...” her voice was low, pleasured, but she shouted and broke suddenly, to run toward the gray bony trees. She could feel his gaze burning behind her, though he had not moved. She could sense that too... The clouds had gathered and she was quickly bathed in darkness. Her body ached as she scrambled through the forest; dead branches clung to her, scratching, snapping against her soft skin, tangling in her hair. In the distance she heard a low, loud clap and suddenly stopped in amazement.

Thunder.

And how she felt him at her back!

Sarah began to sprint, diving into the emaciated marshlands, weaving between the trees with strange speed she'd never before possessed. The forest was lit suddenly, followed by the boom of thunder, and the world trembled. She slipped causing her body to hit the earth painfully. Her palms were scraped and she thought she could feel them beginning to bleed. Sarah got to her feet, and pressed onward, now focused on reaching a clearing up ahead. There the stones still stood in a somewhat tangible pile, the ruin of the wall.

A tell-tale crackling was soon accented by the smell of smoke; and the forest lit again, with another clap of thunder. Flames followed her, as surely as he did.

She opened her arms, and as if by nature, took flight. She didn't dwell on this new talent, as she flew instinctively toward the center of the Labyrinth; the Goblin City. The junk heaps were vacated save for a few broken scraps, ruined walls surrounded by a deserted moat. The sky roared again, and as she dove toward the destroyed hovels of the city, she was intercepted, caught in flight. The great white bird clenched her small body tightly with its talons, one piercing her wing, and she shrilled, screaming with the tumultuous weather. Her eyes rolled and she flapped haphazardly as they neared the stone foundation of what remained of Jareth's castle. His wings berated, battering her small, black body. She was suddenly human again, as if she were lost in the transition, and he stood, looming before her. The sky erupted above them.

“The Labyrinth awakens at our touch – at our desires.” He lifted her shirt in one fluid movement and removed it.

Sarah gazed at him intently, struck still and speechless.

“You keep running – always you run from yourself Sarah.” He knelt above her, “Why..?” He kissed her lips gingerly, tenderly. She brought her hands to his shoulders, her fingers barely grazing his shirt.

“Why do you run?” This kiss was deeper, probing. “Why do you run from your desire, precious thing?”
Her breathing slowed as she relaxed, and the storm quelled for the moment, though the clouds had blotted out the sky, leaving them in almost utter darkness. Sara felt her hands still wet and warm. Still bleeding. Jareth took hold of her right hand, bringing her palm to his mouth, and pressed his lips against the ravaged skin. She let out a quick gasp of pain, but did not resist his gentle administrations. He lapped at the pooling blood, savoring it as it were a fine delicacy.

“You summon this land with the blood on your hands...”

She was suddenly locked in his embrace, and as he kissed her now, roughly, she could taste the sweet, metallic sheen of her own blood. His body was lithe, and strong and her blood boiled spilling onto him as her hands searched his chest. His own hands carefully lowered her to the ground, and began to search her body expertly.

His mouth released hers and traveled downwards, to find her breasts. He nipped against the skin, soft enough so it wouldn't break, his tongue flicked against her nipple, and then softly bit her, making her keen with pleasure. Her chest rose and fell now rapidly and the storm began to thicken again. A low rumble through the sky, as if urging them on. Her body ran hot, wet with yearning, and she whimpered, pleading for him to bring her to that edge.

Jareth brought his free hand to her thigh, digging in just enough to make her cry out and crept higher. His movements were slow; enough to taunt her, causing her to grasp his shoulders with fervor, her fingers digging under his shirt, into his flesh. He gave a low growl, and bit harder. Her body racked and tensed suddenly as she cried out, and he brought his hand to the apex of her thighs, rubbing softly, maddeningly against her clit. The sudden pressure and pleasure overwhelmed her. Sarah rocked her hips towards him, pressing him against her body. Jareth forced her legs apart, playing with her intimately.

Jareth kissed the valley between her breasts, and began to ply against her, searching for the fastest way to make her come for him. She twitched, and shivered as he touched her, exploring gently and shuddered with a soft sigh as he pressed against it. He found a rhythm and her body rocked with his pulses, encouraging him to continue... begging.

“Please...please...” Sarah let out a high-pitched sound, and her fingers dug painfully into her palms. “Oh god!”She twitched, as one finger entered her. She rocked against him, and mewled, eager, as he pulled it out and replaced it. She cried out in mixed pain and pleasure, enjoying both with sincere passion.

She brought herself against him clutching her body as close to his as she could, as his fingers continued to pry, pressing and pushing against her sex, using one, then two fingers to penetrate her delicate, unused body, in ways that she had only dreamed of, as she felt his own sex, engorged against her thigh. She yelped, and her body shook violently as he brought her again, screaming his name. Her fingers came away from his back bloodied. As their blood mixed and she rode her pleasure, dazed and glowing, as she clung to her captor.

Then it began to rain.