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Hell, they say, hath no fury like a woman scorned.
A woman of the Fae even more so.
A thing Jareth really should have remembered.
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“Sarah?” The edge-of-memory-familiar voice slipped through the dark, entering her ear, and slowly seeping into her brain as she came up from sleep. “Mistress?”
“Hoggle!” Sarah jumped up from her bed with a shout, glad she chose to sleep in comfortable, if somewhat baggy and worn, pajamas instead of anything more sheer - or nothing at all. “What are you doing here?”
“Sarah,” he repeated, twisting his hat in his hands. “Jareth’s gone.”
“What?”
“We can’t find him anywhere. None of us can. We need you.”
“Why?”
He looked at her as if the answer should be obvious. “To find him.”
“Why me?” she clarified, shaking her mind back to the time, decades ago, when she’d journeyed with Hoggle through the Labyrinth. “I rejected him.”
Hoggle shook his head. “Because you’re the only one who can find him.” He looked up at her with pleading eyes. “Please.”
“Very well.” She never had been able to resist those eyes. Apparently, the passage of years had done nothing to reduce her susceptibility to them.
“Let me get dressed; then we’ll go.”
Hoggle withdrew politely and Sarah quickly threw on jeans and a shirt. Time seemed to be of the essence, and it wasn’t like she was going to court Jareth or anything like that which would require more formal wear.
Quite the opposite. She was going to haul him out of whatever mess he’d found himself in and then get back to her life. She was a writer, now. A writer of speculative fantasy. One who was asked to appear at conventions and events all over the world.
Which also had deadlines.
So he’d better be quick to find.
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Jareth opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. The dark was nearly absolute, but not so much so that he couldn't recognize the stone blocks of an oubliette. Tho' even if he hadn't, the smell would have been enough to let him know where he was.
With sight and smell and the feel of cold, damp air on his skin came memory.
Another thing he could have done without, really. Tall, beautiful, terrible, his lover had towered over him, before binding him in Cold Iron and throwing him down here.
Absently rubbing his wrist, where the iron bracelet already had settled in to a low ache that would only get worse over time, Jareth wondered how long it would take him to die.
He did not waste his energy on wondering if anyone would find him before that happened. Through his pain and confusion, he'd heard the words of a forgetting spell, so that even the fact of there being an oubliette would be forgotten.
There would be no rescue. Of that, he was certain.
There would be no mercy, either. His lover had never been known for her compassion, even when she wasn't incandescent with rage.
In a final bit of vengeance, she had cast a spell preventing him from using his magick to end himself, ensuring he would have a long and painful death, utterly alone, with no possibility of rescue or respite.
Plenty of time to consider his sins, she’d said as she faded away, leaving him behind with cold stone his only company.
Now, the only question left was how long it would take for him to leave this world.
And what would await him in the next.
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He was not being quick to find.
Sarah had wasted no time once she was in the Goblin Kingdom. She quickly organized the goblins and other creatures and sent them out to scour the castle, the city, and even the Labyrinth.
It was a sign of how frightened they were that they obeyed her without question.
At least that’s what Sarah chose to think. Anything else, any other possible possibilities for why the goblins would accept her as their leader without protest, was shoved to the back of her mind for later.
In any case, as team after team reported back in – some even going so far as to brave the Bog of Eternal Stench with Sir Didymous – with nothing to show for their efforts but big goose-eggs (which Sarah told them sternly to put back in the birds’ nests at once!), Sarah ground her teeth in frustration.
Where was he? Why was he hiding from her? How was he hiding from her?
A thought began to come to the forefront of her mind. A thing she’d once used in one of her stories. Yes, that was it! She gathered some of her own magick – she’d began to study after learning so much of what was possible from Jareth back in the day – collected it, formed it, and sent it out.
And was promptly rewarded with a mental *ping^. Yes! That was it! A forgetting spell on an oubliette – what a horrible pun as well as a horrible punishment! She swiftly dismantled the spell with a certain amount of gleeful force, then prepared to go rescue Jareth.
With about equal parts glee and fear, she had to admit to herself.
She quickly gathered the supplies she thought she might need, as well as Hoggle and some of the other, steadier goblins, and swiftly made her way to the place where Jareth was being held.
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Jareth didn’t know how long he’d lain there when the sound of voices brought him back to consciousness from the pain-filled haze he’d been living in.
He thought about moving, but somehow couldn’t make his body obey. He lay there, helpless, while the voices continued above.
“Careful, now! We don’t want that to… I said be careful!” Hoggle’s voice rose strong and loud.
What was Hoggle doing here? They shouldn’t have been able to… oh, that explained it. It wasn’t real. Jareth had spent enough time in the Dreamworlds to know just how realistic they could seem. He turned his face away from the growing light-filled spot above him and tried to find that blessed place of unknowing again, where the pain of the Cold Iron faded to nothing and his awareness of what was and what would inexorably, inevitably be was gone.
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Sarah wanted to tell the goblins to hurry, but knew she didn’t dare. Who knew what unpleasant surprises might emerge if she did not slowly and methodically clear every part of the path before letting the goblins move forward?
Not she, certainly, which was why they were moving oh-so-carefully – down the hall, which they’d already managed, to the place of the oubliette, and now, to moving the top of the oubliette away.
Once the lid was finally – finally! - lifted away and set aside, Sarah did a final magick-clearing spell and leaned over the edge to call down to the body lying spreadeagled on the stone floor below, so familiar and yet not.
“Jareth?” she called down softly, in order to get a sense of his condition. She did not expect the silence. “Jareth?” she called a little more forcefully, a little more loudly.
This time, an arrogant wave of a hand, a curt dismissal winking off the wide bracelet she saw close about his wrist.
“I will not, you arrogant git!” she called down loudly, her patience shot. “I’ve spent a lot of time and trouble finding you, and I will not be dismissed!” She realized she probably sounded like one of the characters from her books, but at the moment, she didn’t care.
With another quick scan around her for defensive magicks not her own, Sarah leaped down into the oubliette and stomped over to where Jareth lay. “So, the question is, your royal Gobliness, are you going to get up on your own or do I have to kick you?”
A brief smile spread itself across Jareth’s face before he turned his head away again, snuggling into the cold stone. “If this is a dream, never let me wake,” came the quiet words.
Sarah lost all patience. Putting her foot next to his torso, she nudged his body. “This is not a dream and you can feel the toe of my boot in your ribs,” she snapped. “Now, are you going to get up or am I going to have to make you?”
“Sarah!” Jareth’s eyes opened abruptly and he scrabbled away on the floor, unmindful of his dignity.
“Who else would it be?” The cross tone had not left her voice.
Jareth thought a moment before replying honestly, “I don’t know. I didn’t think anyone would ever find me here. The spells…” he trailed off.
“Were no match for my Will,” Sarah stated firmly.
“You’re… you’re really here?” he questioned softly. “This isn’t a dream?”
Seeing his honest confusion, Sarah relented. “Yes, I’m really here. No, this isn’t a dream.” She walked over to where he lay, reached down, touched his face gently.
He reached up, clasped her hand, held it against his cheek. “How…”
“Hoggle. He came to the mortal world, found me, begged me to come and find you. Said I was the only one who could.”
“The only one who could? How… unless….” His gaze turned sharp.
Sarah met his eyes with a gaze just as sharp. “Yes,” she said simply. “But I had a job to do and you left me no way to accomplish both. Besides,” she shrugged. “I was still a child.”
“And now you’re not.”
“And now I’m not.” She caught a sparkle of the bracelet, saw Jareth’s wince. “What is this?” she asked. “Cold Iron? Oh, no, this needs to go! Hang on a moment, I’ll be back.” With that, she went back to the center of the oubliette, hollered something up to the goblins waiting above.
In a moment, she was returning with some bottles and some vague-shaped lumps and a steely glint in her eye. “Who’d you piss off, Jareth? To do such a number on you?” She sprinkled some of the contents of one of the bottles on his wrist and the pain went away. Wordlessly, he held out his other wrist, where a matching bracelet lay. She repeated the ministrations on it with similar results.
“Anyplace else?”
“My… ankles.” She pushed the hems of the skin-tight trousers (some things never changed, she noticed wryly) past his ankles to reveal matching anklets. She treated both of them and then took a small saw in hand. “Don’t move,” she instructed. “You don’t want me cutting off anything other then the Cold Iron.”
He nodded, keeping a firm eye on where the saw lay against the metal. He moved nothing other than his gaze as she worked. Finally, when the manacles had been left on the stone floor, Jareth felt he could finally collapse.
Just for a moment, mind.
Just so he could get up the energy to move.
Sarah, of course, was having none of it.
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“Get UP, Jareth! There’s no sense staying here on a cold, stone floor when you could be back at the castle, annoying your goblins instead.” And me, she did not add, but very definitely thought.
When she had waited, and no returning snark was forthcoming, Sarah began to worry, just a little. Resigned to the fact that Jareth wasn’t faking his weakness, she spoke to the goblins, and soon had a rope harness fashioned and put around his unprotesting body, and a team of goblins steadily pulling on the ropes fastened to the harness.
Somehow, the sight of Jareth’s body jerkily moving up the stone wall of the oubliette didn’t bring her the amount of satisfaction she’d expected.
Once Jareth was safely on the dungeon floor above her and she’d been assisted back out of the oubliette herself, Sarah was treated to the rather humorous sight of Jareth being conveyed along the dungeon’s hallway by a group of goblins, five on a side, with Hoggle holding up Jareth’s head to keep it from bouncing along the floor.
“Where would you like us to take you, Jareth?” Hoggle asked.
“To the castle?” came the snarky reply and Sarah breathed a little easier.
A Jareth who could snark was a Jareth who was going to be okay.
“Take the private way into my chambers,” Jareth added quietly. “I don’t wish to be seen by anybody else.”
“Very well,” Hoggle said and relayed instructions to the other goblins.
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Once they reached the castle proper, Jareth seemed to revive a bit. A brisk request to be put down ended with him rising to his feet, maybe with not quite all the grace he was accustomed to, but enough.
He made his way to his suite under his own power, and once there, began to head for the lushly appointed bed with a wearily focused determination.
Until the word 'Stop!' rang out, sharp as a whip crack.
Jareth froze, as did the goblins – who had followed along by habit – as Sarah came storming up to him.
"You are NOT soiling that lovely bed with your filthy self. Bath. First." Sarah glared at him, daring him to defy her.
Jareth raised his hands in surrender. "As my lady wishes," he said with only the tiniest hint of sarcasm.
Then when silent motionlessness proceeded to reign, Jareth demanded, "Well? You heard her – prepare the bath!"
There was instant chaos as the goblins all scrambled to obey, falling over themselves and each other in their haste.
When they had all disappeared in the direction of a room leading off of the bedroom – presumably where the bathtub was set up – Jareth turned to her, his body language unreadable. "Is my lady going to look after me in the bath? Make sure I get clean? Make sure I don't drown?" His voice a mix of snark and something more – again, unreadable.
Sarah regarded him coolly. "I don't know. Do I need to?"
Jareth looked back at her for a long moment, regarding, measuring, deciding. "I don't know." A moment, while courage gathered. "I think... I would like you to." A sudden whiff that wrinkled his nose, reminding him of precisely where he'd been – both literally and metaphorically. "Help get the stink of that oubliette off of me." He reached out a hand to carefully caress her face. "Please." An unaccustomed tenderness filled his voice, his touch.
"Very well," she said, with a tenderness of her own. "I will."
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The bath took a while – the in-ground dirt and grime required effort to remove, and Jareth's body was inclined to remind him of just what he'd been through, necessitating a certain amount of time and care for the cleaning process – but, eventually, body and hair were both clean, and Jareth was sitting tucked up in bed, wearing a silk robe and little else.
Sarah had to admit, if only to herself, that she liked the view. Stray thoughts flowed through her mind about the passage of years and what might be permissible now that hadn't been before, but she firmly tucked them away for another day.
Now was NOT the time.
Later... well... that would be later.
"Shall I tuck you in, Jareth?" she asked fondly.
Jareth regarded her carefully. "I am not a child." A chilly neutrality filled his voice, as if he couldn’t decide whether he should be offended or not – and if so, how much.
"I know. It's just that sometimes... it's just nice. To be tucked in. Wished well."
Green and blue eyes watched her, searching for any dissembling, any sign the offer was any other than what it was. Finally, "Yes."
He wrapped the robe carefully around himself and slid down into the bed, lying down with his head against the pillows and his body – or at least most of it – underneath the sheets and blankets.
He looked up at her trustingly. "I'm ready."
Sarah smiled as she pulled up the sheets and blankets the rest of the way, and pulled a comforter that had been laying folded at the foot of the bed up to Jareth's chin. "There.” She patted the top of the comforter as she began to recite. “No Monsters can hurt you now, as off to sleep you go. May your dreams be all of happiness and nevermore of woe. May the sunlight greet your waking and all your days be blessed. Now let go, my cherished one, it's time to take your rest."
"What is that?" Jareth asked softly.
Sarah blushed. "It's something I wrote in one of my books. A blessing charm, disguised as a nighttime prayer."
"I like it."
A smile that warmed him all the way to his soul came in response to his words. Sarah reached out and gently gripped the lump that was his hands under the covers. "I'm glad." A moment, then, "I should go. Let you rest."
Quickly, a hand came out from the covers, catching her arm. "Don't go. Please... stay." A thought. "Read to me? From one of your books."
A quizzical look met his question. "How...?"
Jareth smiled softly, quietly proud. "I may not have all my magick back yet, but I have enough to do this." A small gesture, a flash of blue light, and the hardcover of the book she was proudest of (so far) was in his hands. "Please?" he asked pleadingly, holding it out to her.
Sarah laughed a genuine laugh of wonder and delight, as she took it. "Yes," she replied happily. "Yes, I will." She climbed onto the bed, settled in next to Jareth, sitting up against the thick down pillows as she opened the book, went to the first page of the story.
"Once upon a time..."
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