Chapter Eight

AN: Well my friends, I actually completed a chapter with something aproaching timeliness. Shock and awe baby. LoL. Anyway, were continuing the rollercoaster ride of emotions, gaining some insight into Jareth's past, as well as Sarah's current thoughts. And just for those of you who have been asking... some fluff. LoL, anyway, here it is. Enjoy.

Always,

Eden

"Every man is afraid of something. That's how you know he's in love with you; when he is afraid of losing you."

Anonymous

"Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really need it."

Swedish Proverb

"Love isn't finding a perfect person. It's seeing an imperfect person perfectly."

Sam Keen

May ?, 1992

Goblin Castle

As I sat down to write this, I realized I don't even know the date. Now that I think of it, is time even reckoned the same way in the Underground? I suppose the answer is irrelevant at the moment, being just another thing to add to the already mountainous heap of things I don't know. Whenever I think of that pile of unknowns, it reminds me of the junk pile I visited during my first trip to the Underground. Except, this isn't a trip is it? I'm here for better or for worse (and yes I am aware of the irony of that statement), for the rest of my 'unnatural' life. Anyway, the junk pile. An odd analogy perhaps, but im in an odd mood, and I find it oddly appropriate. I feel that my thoughts and feelings are jumbled together in broken heaps, mixing freely with the innumerable unanswered questions. And there I am, picking about, back and forth, grabbing this and that, only to be distracted by the next object.

So, in some attempt to organize this, I decided to start this. A journal of sorts, though I have never kept one. I suppose I always found it pointless to write down the happenings of your own life. Because, obviously you know what happened, and a journal is not usually intended for general consumption. Therefore no point to keep one. Besides, even if I had been so inclined, the entries would have been more of a liability then an aid. So many of the things in my life above, touched on the underground, Jareth, and all things in between, that if anyone had come across it I would most likely have been shipped off to the nearest asylum. Yeah... not really my idea of a good vacation.

Anyway, back to the agenda. My arrival here, did not go at all as I expected, though what I did expect, I don't really know. From Jareth's behavior I think it's safe to say that it wasn't what he expected either. I suppose the only one who could have expected it, was Tourach. But it wasn't even according to his plan, because I am still alive and he... is not.

I can't help but think that I should feel something more about that. Relief? Sorrow? Regret? I don't know. He's dead. It is over. And yet, I can't shake the feeling that it's not. Who knows.

But, I don't really think I can bring my self to think on that at the moment, or on the other two deaths. That's three deaths in two days. Two days? Very little time to have your entire world turned upside down and shaken. So many of my ideas and perceptions have been challenged, and I don't even know where to go from here. I do know, that whatever happens, like it or not, my life is entwined with, and in a perverse way, completely dependant on, Jareth. Ancient Sidhe. The Goblin King. My husband,... I can't say how odd it feels to say that. I really can't. Even writing his name fills me with a mix of emotions, Anger, fear, desire(damn him), affection? And now, compassion. I think the last is probably the most important. Jareth is a real person, he has feelings, even if he hides them behind that arrogant mask I both love and loathe, he feels, he suffers he bleeds. I cannot afford to forget that.

As you probably realize at this point, I have decided to forgive him. For several reasons. The first being that he is my husband, like it or not, and therefore my main link to the underground. The second reason is, that being angry with him serves no real purpose, Im punishing my self as much as him. There was a time when I would have wrapped myself up tight in that anger, been difficult, and childish, pouted, screamed, thrown tantrums, etc. However, I would like to think that I have matured a bit since then. Unfortunately part of being mature is doing things you'd rather not do. Like letting hold of a grudge, or swallowing your pride. I'm reminded of that quote by , "It is better to lose your pride with someone you love, then to lose someone you love because of your stupid pride."

So now that I've written that, not thinking, Im wondering, do I love him? No, yes... maybe. I really don't know. I think I could love him, given the chance. That's more then a lot of people have, and it's what gives me a measure of hope that this, our marriage will actually last. And, it terrifies me. Love. A simple, idealized, romanticized word, that means so very much. Im an odd combination of hopeless romantic and cynic. Romantic by nature, I never tired of reading old love stories with handsome princes and fair damsels. But then again, I saw the opposite side of love. I still remember being a child and hearing my parents yelling at one another. My father jealous of my Mother's latest flame, my Mother, vibrant and furious, determined to have the life she wanted. No matter the cost to her, my father, or me. It ended very badly between them, but what upsets me the most, is that they did love each other. Once. I remember seeing the pictures of them when they were younger. As a young girl I would sit on the floor of my mothers closet, cradling the massive photo album on my lap, fingers stroking the laughing line of my mother's cheek again and again. Looking with a measure of pride on the soft adoring look in my father's eyes. They were happy, and so in love. I could never help wondering what went wrong. Numerous psychologists and therapists, made it clear that it was not my fault. So I don't blame myself. Still, I can't help but wonder what happened. When did they wake up and decide that they didn't love each other anymore? When did all the little things that came between them mount up so high, that it was easier to walk away from one another then to try and fix it? I don't know. It reminds me of an old french play, in which a janitor came out on stage and said "Happiness, is so important to some of us, that when it is broken, we bend down and pick up the pieces." My parents weren't willing to do that, but I am.

Which brings me back to the third reason I have decided to forgive Jareth. Below is what happened, following our confrontation in the Onyx Chamber.

When I left him I was furious, and hurt, and still a little afraid. I didn't look where I was going, simply hurrying down the hallways, looking for somewhere quiet to be alone with my thoughts. I eventually just grabbed a door at random and whirled into the room, slamming the door behind me with a satisfying crash. It was satisfying, that brief spurt of violence. So I whirled and slammed my fist into the wall. The spurt of pain from my knuckles was shocking, and oddly grounding. I leaned my back against the wall, as a sob caught in my throat, I sucked on my smarting knuckles. I could taste the sharp tang of blood, as I tried to get ahold of my racing thoughts. Much to my surprise, I was disturbed from this by a wry, cultured voice.

"Goodness, whatever did the poor wall do to you?"

My head whipped around like a puppet on a string as I searched for the source of the voice. After a moment my gaze landed on a woman who had been standing by the window, partially concealed by the drapes.

She stepped forward into the light and smiled, as she dipped a polite curtsey. The woman was obviously Sidhe, being possessed of the same lithe beauty that seemed inherent to their race. Her hair was so blonde as to be almost white, piled on her head in a becoming chignon. Gowned tastefully, she was the epitome of grace.

Needless to say I felt like a recalcitrant child in front of her, and I blushed hotly. "Im sorry, I didn't realize anyone was in here."

"Not at all. I should have made my presence known." She curtsied again and said, "Forgive me. I just realized I have not introduced myself. I am the Lady Vallia, Countess De'Cristo."

I curtsied awkwardly and said, "A pleasure to meet you Countess, Im..."

The Countess cut me off, a look of mild amusement in her ice blue eyes. "I know who you are Milady. In fact I am quite certain there is not a person in the realm who is unaware of exactly who and what you are."

"Oh." I said inanely, unsure of how to take that statement.

She nodded regally, and there was no mistaking the amusement or curiosity in her gaze this time. "Quite. Now forgive me if I seem forward, but you were quite upset a moment ago, and I wondered if perhaps there might be some way I could be of help."

I sighed heavily as I moved further into the room and sunk onto the comfortable looking sofa.

"I doubt it. Not unless you can tell me what's going on in my husbands head..." I flinched as soon as the words left my mouth, mentally clapping a hand to my forehead. "I probably shouldn't have said that should I?"

The Countess waived a hand dismissively as she sunk onto the arm chair opposite me and said easily, "Oh likely not. Etiquette and all that."

She paused for a moment, considering, then said, "No. I do not believe I know the King quite well enough as to give insight into his present mind set. However I might be able to give you some insight into his past that would allow you to do so." She smiled softly, "I was a good friend of his mother's you see, and I knew him quite well in his youth."

I looked at her in surprise, but curiosity being my downfall, I nodded eagerly for her to continue.

"As I said, I was good friends with his mother for several years. She was a good and loyal friend, a very kind and gentle woman who was married to a true tyrant. Vyrian, Jareth's father was a very harsh, and cruel man. Far worse then his son could ever imagine being I assure you. He was like ice. Unapproachable, untouchable. He cared nothing for the feelings of others, firm that the beliefs he held were the only valid. Except of course when it came to Tianna, Jareth's mother."

Vallia looked pensive for a moment as though considering some odd phenomena. "He loved her, more then anything." she said with a note of wonder in her voice. She shook her head slightly and turned her head to look me in the eye.

"Love you must understand, True Love, is incredibly rare, especially among the Sidhe. As I am certain you are aware, it is not always a part of the mating. Love frequently blooms between bonded couples. But real, True Love, that... that is something else." there was an odd tone in her voice as she spoke. Almost bitter, and sorrowful.

"I digress. Tianna died in childbirth when Jareth was little more then a boy. Still in knee breeches as I recall." she said almost fondly.

"It was a terrible time for everyone. Vyrian retreated to his tower for nearly two months. Some say he was mad with grief. The truth? No one knows for certain. When he emerged, he was harder then ever. Harsh, cruel, vicious." she paused as though to impress what she said into me.

"And determined to instill those same qualities in his son at all costs. Jareth's siblings were left mostly to their own devices, but no such luxury for his heir. It was painful to witness. There was no softness left in the boys life. He was not allowed to socialize with his siblings outside of the presence of his father. He was not touched except in correction. Forced to recite the laws, and history of the land verbatim. If he strayed from the text, or made an error. He was beaten severely, and made to repeat it until he succeeded. His father drilled the meaning of kingship into him with every ounce of his will.

"Vyrian died when Jareth was about 700, the equivalent of 17 or so in your realm. There were a great many that were relieved by his passing."

"But not Jareth?" I asked softly, my heart aching for the boy he had once been.

The countess looked at me in mild surprise, and, I think, approval. "No. Not Jareth. In spite of his fathers harshness. He loved him deeply, and it pained him greatly to lose him. Not to mention the fact that he was so young. Surely far to young to rule a kingdom. Of course the manner of his death did not help ease the loss." she said drily.

Seeing my questioning glance she continued. "During a routine excursion aboveground, he was tricked and trapped. Tortured and slowly poisoned to death by cold iron. Jareth's Uncle, Gallyn was responsible. This was not the first time he had conspired against the throne. But the first time Tianna's kind heart prevailed, and he was simply exiled above. This time there was no such influence, and of course it only served to reinforce the belief that Vyrian drilled into him, that you may trust noone, not even those you call friend."

That conversation made me aware me aware that Jareth was... not human, because he's not... but real. In a way he's always been something 'more' to me. It's hard to imagine him as a child. Or as a 'real' person. He's powerful, seductive, magical, mercurial, and, beneath it all, he's still a man. It's oddly disillusioning, and yet reassuring at the same time.

Anyway, I'm still confused, and unsure, and likely will be for some time. But things are... not quite clearer, but easier to accept. There is only so much I can do in any given moment, so Im going to take it one step at a time and go from there. That's all anyone can do I suppose. And all I can ask of myself.

I have come to several realizations as I've written this. The first being that a large portion of my anger with Jareth, was the result of my own confusion, and hurt. As a foolish, idealistic girl, I painted a picture of him in my own mind, something larger than life. Which he is. Noble? He could be. Cruel? He could be at times, I won't deny it. And yet, for all of my 'insights', I thought that I knew him. Maybe I didn't know his history before, or his likes, dislikes, his realm, his people. But I had thought, that I understood him. And now... Now, I don't know. I suppose the important question is, 'Do I really know him at all?'

Always,

Sarah...

The Goblin Queen

From my hiding place I watch as the chit lays down the quill, and closes the small journal she has claimed as her own. The play of emotions that play over her face are fascinating. She is a lamb set into a pack of wolves that will rend her limb from limb, and laugh as they do it. Entertainment at it's height, to say the least. Still, I cannot help but be astounded by the girls stupidity. She sat in the east parlor scarcely an hour before, conversing on intimate family details with someone, who is quite literally a stranger. Only a fool makes friendships so easily. I suspect that if Jareth were aware of what his bride was about, he would throttle the girl. An interesting notion to be sure, but then again... 'The Countess' as he puts it, was once a close friend of his mothers, and was present for a good portion of his life. I wonder if he knows that after Tianna's death, 'The Countess' warmed his fathers bed? No matter...

The girl rises, a look of profound thoughtfulness on her face, and heads to the door, leaving the journal lying on the desk, where anyone could walk by and read it. Im tempted to follow her, but far more tempted to read what she has written, and so I wait patiently for her footsteps to fade before opening the latch on the wall panel and slipping into the room.

The journal entry, while... enlightening, does not reveal anything of any real use. A pity.

Still the game is being played, just as I planned the steps. Tourach was a simple pawn. Of little import in the scheme of things. An opening gambit if you will. A few well placed words, fanning the flames of his already rampant xenophobia. All to easy to bend him to my purpose. I never expected him to succeed. If he had, then so be it. But far better this way. Now the game continues. She doesn't know what is in store for her yet. But she will. She will be hunted, haunted at every turn. She will not know where to turn for succor. Around every corner a threat will lurk, and then... when the time comes. She will know. The moment will come, when all of my years of planning shall come to fruition. I will look into those thrice damned eyes, and see knowledge bloom before the light of life fades completely, her blood pulsing over my hands in payment for all that I have lost. Her life for the life that should have been mine. My pain will be known, and then, finally I shall have peace.

The glowing embers of the fire had dimmed, along with the setting sun. A decided chill crept in through the dense stones of the castle, reaching through layers of cloth to chill sensitive flesh. The final rays of the sun cast an amber glow over Sarah's face where she sat at the small desk, quill in hand. A slight line had formed between her brows, for her eyes did not see the setting sun, she did not feel the chill. She was lost in her thoughts, the confusion and anger warring with compassion and understanding.

It was only as the sun faded completely from the sky, that she became aware of the encroaching darkness, and it's accompanying chill. Since her arrival in the underground, time had alternately raced, and crawled, and even at moments, seemed to grind to a standstill. In a way the flow of it felt different. Not as important perhaps. Maybe a side effect of being taken out of her time, and placed on a whole new plane. Yet another question to ask Jareth.

With a heavy sigh, she rose to her feet. She couldn't postpone the inevitable any longer. She stretched sore muscles that were loudly protesting their long disuse. With a final glance at the desk, she turned and left the room. Closing the door behind her with a soft click. Sarah didn't even need to think about where she was heading. Unconsciously falling that subtle thread that bound her to Jareth, and he to her.

In moments she was standing before the doors to the Onyx Chamber, where she had left him several hours before. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath before pushing the door open. It glided silently not making a sound, or disturbing the rooms soul occupant.

It would appear that she hadn't been alone in her soul searching, because Jareth sat on the edge of the massive thrown, his forehead leaning against his palm as he stared sightlessly at the scorched mark on the floor that had once been his friend.

It frightened her to see him like this. His face was as expressionless as always, but she knew, without knowing how, that it was just a mask. He seemed...so unbearably alone, so... lost. And in that moment, she had her answer.

No. She hadn't known him, hadn't understood him. Perhaps, she hadn't really wanted to understand him. But maybe it wasn't to late to try.

She stepped into the room and Jareth's head lifted, a look of wariness sprang across his features as he caught sight of her and Sarah felt a sharp pang.

She walked to him slowly, he watched her, unmoving, unsure of what she would do.

Sarah paused before him and clasped his hands as she sank to her knees beside the throne, leaning her head against his knee. His hand wavered for a moment before descending slowly to the top of her head, gently caressing the dark locks. They sat in silence for several long moments, and then Sarah spoke breaking the stillness.

Then, swallowing the remnants of her pride, she spoke. "I'm sorry Jareth."

"For what?"

"For not understanding."

"Then you understand why this had to be done?" he asked softly.

"No." his hand froze.

"But I understand that you felt it had to be done, and I trust you."

He looked down at her in surprise.

"I read once, I can't remember where, that "There is a thin line between justice and brutality." I didn't understand it then, but I do now.. I understand that you only wanted me to be safe, and you did what you felt you had to." She paused as she once again looked at the scorched floor, and said. "And I'm sorry for not realizing how hard it must have been for you to kill him. He was once a friend. You trusted him and he betrayed you. That must have been very difficult."

"Yes. It was." He said simply, the echoing loneliness in his tone tore at her.

She stood slowly looking at him intently, and allowed him to pull her into his lap, cradling her against his chest. Jareth had never been a demonstrative person, but with Sarah… it was different. Her presence comforted him like nothing else could, the words she spoke next sent shock waves through his body, and filled him with a peace he had never known.

"Your not alone in this Jareth, not anymore. No matter what happens, what you have to do, or feel you have to do. Your not alone."