DISCLAIMER: Settings, characters ideas, scenes, etc, from Labyrinth are (c) Henson, Lucas, Froud, Lee, Bowie, Connelly, etc and are NOT MINE. I don't own a settee, with or without a Goblin King, smirking on it.
This is one of a few stories written in thanks to spike30 (on deviantArt) for taking some of my suggestions for cosplay pics. There's a link to his dA page on my profile here.
Stay tuned for A/N after.
We sit there, cuddled together, as though we were an ordinary couple. Young professionals, blue collar, freelance, it doesn't matter. In this aspect, we are ordinary: husband and wife, sitting together, sharing one another's space even as the fireplace performs its function.
This time, he was there first. As I sat by myself at the other end of the room, engrossed in my own thoughts, I felt his gaze. This time, he drew me over with naught but a look and that smirk. He took my hand gently, reverently, and eased me down into his arms, onto his lap.
Another time, I was there first. He wasn't even in the room, but elsewhere about his realm, tending to business. I watched the fire and thought of him, and missed him. My mind found him, tapped him on the shoulder, and beckoned. He reclined himself with me, his head on my lap, and my hands entwined in his fly-away blond hair.
Another time, he was there first. I wasn't even in the room. As I walked through the room and past him, intent about my own business, and barely out of reach, he leaned out and grabbed me. He pulled me onto his lap, and encircled me within his arms.
Another time, I was there first. He was working at his desk, handling the piles of parchment and unending rounds of correspondence. I was trying to ignore him, even as I smiled to myself at his scowl over a particularly loathsome request. My smile called to him, so he looked up, finished quickly, and was beside me.
Another time, he was there first. He was enjoying an unexpected hour's rest, while I was elsewhere with the castle's housekeeper, determining arrangements for an upcoming State Dinner. He was musing on how alone he was before. Before he ever saw me, before we met, before I started to understand, before we came together. He flicked his wrist and magicked me there, already in his embrace.
But this time, though he was on the settee first, our settee, we were in the room together. The guests departed, the diplomacies fulfilled, the negotiations concluded, the children abed, and the goblins successfully thwarted from any arson-related mischief, we enjoyed the space and the quiet. The luxury of staring into a fire together isn't one for which there is often enough time.
And it rarely lasts longer than it takes for either of us to notice it.
This time, though our children are talented at untimely interruptions, the goblins are skilled in mayhem, and the neighboring kingdoms known for imbecilic requests, we recline together. We watch the light shift and dance. We inhale the wood smoke, and listen to the fire's rhythm as it intermingles with our heartbeats. We sink further into each other, and further away from awareness of anything else. My head tips to the side so our eyes can meet. From that moment, we're no longer on our settee, within one of the family-only rooms.
We're truly alone, in our room, where all know to leave us undisturbed. There's a wood fire going here, too, but we don't watch it. We tend to the fire of our own building.
A/N: This series of story (yes... I said "series") might turn out to be related to or linked to something else of mine. We'll see how it pans out. At least one of the other stories written in payment are not part of this series.
Un-Beta'd: Beware of Typos. You spot 'em, I want 'em! (one found Aug 18th)