I'M SORRY I DON'T UPDATE OFTEN ENOUGH, I AM A HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE PERSON AND I WILL UNDERSTAND IF YOU NEVER, EVER FORGIVE ME, I HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR MY BEHAVIOUR
Ahem. Allow me to present the next chapter of this ongoing... thing, in which Jareth is awesome but Sarah is perhaps even more awesome, and they're still on a boat for some reason even though they were supposed to be off it by now.
Which brings us to our song: I'm on a Boat by I believe The Lonely Island, a genius suggestion by GeeAnnaB, who gets Gold Hotpants and a fistbump because that song is perfect in its terribleness and trueness (they are, after all, on a boat. Or ship, depending on whose ego you stand with).
I am going to resist the urge to ramble on for ages, because I really need to stop treating updates as journal entires and actually get myself a blog. ANYWAY, I own nothing, etc., as you really should know by know.
I could lie and say that reviews will make me update faster, but I won't. I'll beg and say reviews make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside instead. So leave one, if you haven't forgotten who I am and what the hell is going on my now. Thankyou.
There was no noise aboard the ship. Somewhere in the sky far above them, a sea-bird screamed into the silence. King Jareth and Captain Hugh stared at each other, swords held upright, sizing each other up and waiting for a chance to strike. A breeze lifted the ends of their hair and caused their sleeves to flutter. Their captive audience was statue-still, pirates and goblins alike remarkably silent.
There was a flash of black and red and the captain only just managed to block in time. The clash of diamond against steel rang out, clear and pure across the ocean.
Jareth stepped back again, swirling his cape ostentatiously and smirking. The captain lunged forward expertly, but was swiftly side-stepped by the Goblin King. They met, blocked, parried, lunged, over and over in an elaborate dance. The clash of diamond against steel rang out again and again with increasing speed and frequency, until it was harsh and furious as the sea-bird's scream. Captain Hugh sprayed droplets of sweat with each swish of his sword, hair swinging about his face in an ebony curtain. Jareth kept one hand casually at the small of his back, posture somehow lazy despite the speed of his attacks. Both men grinned, and each grin was a predatory snarl.
At Captain Hugh's every aggressive lunge, every block Jareth threw up, Sarah felt her heart stop for the most fleeting of seconds. Adrenaline was racing through her veins as she followed the Goblin King's every move, waiting and, secretly –hoping- that he would not be hurt, would not lose the battle, until she was panting as heavily as though she herself were a participant in the fight.
Jareth watched Sarah surreptitiously from the corner of his eye, noting her obvious concern with pleasure. His opponent fought well, it was true, but no mortal man could match the Goblin King in swordplay. Still, an easy victory may not give him precisely the desired result, Sarah-wise. He had to show he was not entirely perfect, that he was sensitive, that he, too, could bleed. Human women liked that, apparently; that was what he had inferred from his own dealings with romance novels (delivered to his Irish home entirely by a most irksome accident, and not at all through the purchase of a monthly subscription).
Captain Hugh slashed upwards expertly, in a move Jareth could easily have blocked. However, eyes on Sarah, Jareth let his sword slip just a little so the captain's blade slashed open his leather shirt across the collar bone, leaving a long, shallow cut. Jareth allowed a slight stagger backwards, a look of surprise, angling his body just so to allow Sarah a full glimpse of the crimson blood dripping from his chest.
"In need of a respite, old man?" The Captain sneered, swishing his sword in a triumphant gesture.
"Five minutes." Jareth nodded, arranging his features into a suitably pained expression.
He turned towards Sarah, who ran towards him with a horrified expression. Jareth suppressed a triumphant smirk of his own.
"Jareth!" Sarah tore a strip of cloth from the hem of her dress, then pushed Jareth into a sitting position on an old barrel. "Here, let me..."
He sat very still as she wrapped the strip of cloth around his shoulder, watching her silently as she dressed his wound. Her brow was furrowed, the corners of her mouth set downwards in an expression of concern. Her touch was gentle, her hands steady. Inwardly Jareth was dancing, using every ounce of strength he possessed not to whoop in delight.
"Concerned, precious?" He purred as Sarah tied the ends of his bandage together. He allowed a small amount of blood to leak through onto the makeshift bandage, just for effect, but beneath the cloth his wound was already healed.
Sarah frowned at him, but he could see the truth in her eyes. "I'm touched." He grasped her hand in his, tone in equal measures teasing and sincere.
"Does it hurt?" Sarah asked despite herself, for the moment not taking back her hand.
"Yes." Jareth tossed his head dramatically, then mustered up the full force of his seductive powers and looked up into Sarah's eyes with a look so smoulderingly sensual Meg suddenly felt her knees knock from several metres away. "But it might hurt a little less... if you kissed it better."
"In a moment." Sarah patted his head distractedly, eyes searching the deck around them. Jareth pouted, somewhat confused, and most put out from being patted like, as he saw it, an animal or small child.
Spotting her goal, Sarah lunged forward and seized Jareth's sword from where he had placed it on the ground. Her eyes burned fiercely as she strode to the centre of the deck, sword in hand.
"Oi! Captain!" Captain Hugh turned, eyes wide with amusement and surprise. "Nobody hurts the Goblin King but me!"
"You mean to fight me, wench?" The captain guffawed. His crew members bellowed with laughter, but the goblins began to smirk.
"What's wrong, you scurvy dog? Scared?" Sarah snarled.
"Of you? No." The captain grinned at Sarah, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "But if you wish to fight me, then fight we shall."
"Sarah, precious, I'm not entirely sure that's wise." Jareth called out from his perch on the barrel.
"Not now, Jareth, I'm busy defending your honour." Sarah snarled back.
"I thought I was defending your honour." Jareth resisted the urge to scratch his head in confusion.
"Let her go, bub. That girl's got balls of steel." Meg informed him wisely, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Come, wench! Let us dance!" The captain bellowed, still grinning as he pointed his sword at Sarah.
"Dance we shall, you swine." Sarah grinned back with a look that would have send Cerberus running with its tail between its legs, then she lunged forward, Jareth's sword flashing in the sun.