DISCLAIMER: Settings, characters ideas, scenes, etc, from Labyrinth are (c) Henson, Lucas, Froud, Lee, Bowie, Connelly, etc and are NOT MINE. I have never heard what Jareth's markings are called, so I made something up. Sadly, I don't own a settee with a Goblin King on it, but I might have mentioned that before.
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.
An unexpected early morning finds Goblin King and Goblin Queen, sitting together on their favorite settee. Whether this is a twin to the piece of furniture in the Queen's dressing room, or is actually the same one is of no consequence; Sarah has long suspected that Jareth charmed it to be in whatever room he'd likely find her.
The angle of the light as it enters the windows of this family-only room of the Castle Beyond the Goblin City always has a slight mist-like quality to it: things seems vague, full of possibilities, wistful.
The Goblin Queen shifts out of the Goblin King's arms. He is surprised, so he lets her, privately amused at her action, but relieved that she doesn't go far. In fact, her legs swing over his now, instead of remaining half-tucked up beside her. He places his left hand on her right calf, and slides his right hand along her waist and a little toward her back, maintaining contact, even as Sarah looks at him.
She looks at him: his face, his features, his hair, his eyes, his Marks. Yes… his Marks. Given the intent look in Sarah's eyes, Jareth holds his curiosity, mischief, and other intentions in abeyance. Sarah is studying his Marks, memorizing his face, looking into his eyes as though finding answers to questions she hasn't yet imagined.
She's nearly stationary, and barely seems to breathe. He is concerned, until he realizes that she's very relaxed as she looks at him. Whatever has prompted this internal tutorial, it isn't causing his Lady any distress, so he allows the parsing to continue.
Her breathing shifts slightly, and she lifts her hands to his face, her eyes still looking at him as though at a mystery. She gently places a single finger on each cheek. Each pointer finger rests sequentially on a Point of Light, as Sarah always describes those reflective areas. She marvels that they're not symmetrically placed, or of the same size or quantity on either side.
She tilts her head back and forth to allow for a shift in perspective. She brushes at his hair slightly, knowing that the motion won't keep it out of his face for long; she likes how it feels across the back of her hand, and through her fingers.
Even more gently, she begins to trace the Marks at his eyes. A feather-light touch, yet she traces them. Starting above his eyes, with the brows, inside to out, fascinated by the upward sweep. An even lighter touch caresses the Stroke of Light on each eyelid. Jareth hardly dares to breathe as she provides this heretofore unexplored realm of sensory encounter.
Next she comes to the Stroke of Royalty, of Fae, of Magic. Sarah doesn't know what name to give that intriguing indigo. She smiles a little to herself, knowing that her hands have almost finished their role. Almost, but not quite. Each ring finger traces the nearest vertical spread of color.
Jareth's eyes have long since closed; any conscious reason for this would have been along the lines of allowing his Queen whatever access she desires, coupled with a fuller embracing of his nerve endings' reactions. The final set of the dance between hands and eyes concludes with a lighter-than breath sketching across each eyelid, one at a time, and around the lower lids.
Her pinkies tease around the borders of his lips.
Even as Sarah's fingers begin to move outward across the tops of the King's cheeks, toward his hair, and Jareth begins to think that it might be time to open his eyes to learn what prompted this, he feels her warmth draw near. He feels her breath on his face, her hands intertwined within his locks to hold him stationary and tilt his head towards herself, and her lips greet his eyelids. His memory of the importance of the sundry ceremonies of his own life pales in the light of this time. In this moment, he finally, fully accepts that Sarah chose him just as certainly and just as fully as he chose her. She lingers over each eye, making sure to get each gradation of color, before she moves to his cheeks.
His mind untangles enough to consider that Sarah's fingertip on each Point of Light was a remarkable prelude to this; her mouth is delicate in its ministrations, and thorough.
When she finally moves to his mouth, he murmurs a soul-deep blessing as she finally allows him to respond.
Neither Goblin King nor Queen attends to their Official morning duties this day.
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.
And... this completes the repayment. There's the better than likely chance of additional stories. I do rather enjoy having a Goblin King owing me something, you understand.
Un-Beta'd: Beware of Typos. You spot 'em, I want 'em!