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Chapter Text

Rule 1: Try Not To Forget

     Sarah didn’t want to think she had completely lost it. But then again, maybe she had.

     It was three in the morning on her eighteenth birthday as Sarah Williams, armpits damp and hair unbrushed, gripped her pen with taught, clammy fingers. She pressed the tip of it into the paper, but right as she got going with a word, she would cross it out again. Why was writing so hard? It shouldn’t be. She had just seen his face–she was sure of it– in that dream. Every detail of that mystery man. And most importantly, she wasn’t certain when that was going to happen again, so she had to write it down. 

     The only trouble was, she wasn’t sure how to get started. But she knew she had to or else she would go crazy for real this time. And to make things worse, it was a school night. Sarah was aware that she shouldn’t be awake at the crack of dawn doing…. whatever this was. 

     What was she doing? 

     “I’ve got to remember the Goblin King’s face,” she said these words aloud to assure herself of the fact that she had seen him.  She wanted to be sure that what she was trying to record on that poor, abused sheet of notebook paper–that all of it was real. That all of this had actually happened. She was writing this down so that she couldn’t forget. 

     That was the other problem about all of this, about why she thought she was crazy. Normally, the minute she awoke from any of these dreams–if one could call them that– she would almost completely forget about him in a matter of minutes. Laying in her damp bed sheets clad in a cold sweat, it didn’t matter how real it seemed, his mouth and hands or his gaze; she would lose sight of him, the details of his memory scattering like dropped, glassy marbles the moment her eyes flashed open. Only fragments of memories like wisps of steam would arise behind her eyes to remind her that she had seen him. But not this time. No, this time she would put every detail of this dream down onto paper before she had the chance to forget.

     So, what did she see?

     Sarah interrogated this whirring thought by tapping the cool, metallic end of the pen to her bottom lip.

     Light skin, blue eyes, long hair. A black cloak.

     “We were dancing,” she spoke aloud to herself as she wrote, rolling over the sounds to help her spell them right, like she was reading a book to her younger brother. “It was bright. In a ballroom. He was–” 

     Suddenly, a large clamor erupted around her–so loud, it shook the house. Sarah shuddered and dropped her pen. What was going on , she wondered? Was it him? She felt the pen roll to her left, but couldn’t see it. Sarah remained completely still, expecting a sound, a voice. Then, for a brief instant, the lights flickered, and the room fell into darkness. She waited with bated breath, but no sounds, feelings, or visions came. In a blink of an eye, the small yellow light from her desk lamp sputtered back into life. Sarah turned her head to look outside, then around her room, her heart racing. Her bed, the closet, she checked over everything. All she noted was that outside it had started pouring. Has it always been raining?

     “Nobody’s here. It’s just a stupid storm,” she muttered. I’m not a child, she thought, I shouldn’t be scared. Normal girls aren’t afraid of stupid storms. And I really am crazy if I think he’d…

     She couldn’t even finish the thought.

     Sarah picked up her pen again and squinted. It felt heavy in her hand, this memory of his angular eyebrows, of how his hands felt soft in hers, of how the heat from his arms simmered down through their dress clothes. The music. The ethereal chasm in her chest that gurgled beneath her mind like a creekbed thawing before spring. 

     But how on Earth was she supposed to write any of that down?

     Sarah pressed the pen’s tip to the page again, but felt her mind running over with thoughts like streams converging at a crosspoint.

     Who was this man? Who was the Goblin King? And why did it feel like she already knew him? 

     “Ugh,” she groaned at the same time she threw her pen behind her. “I don’t know.”

     She should be asleep, like a normal girl. Normal girls can either sleep through the night or stay up long enough to sneak out of their houses to go visit their real, secret boyfriends. Normal girls don’t wake up after being visited by the same dream man they think could be their secret boyfriend. They don’t dream about the same man they’ve never actually met before for two years.  No.  Normal girls definitely don’t think that the men in their dreams are real. 

     But Sarah does. Sarah believes. Even if she doesn’t want to admit it yet.

Chapter Text

Rule 2: It’s Not Fair

     Nothing was going well. No one was happy.

     The next morning, Sarah awoke to find that she had overslept, which meant two things. First, that she wouldn’t be able to do her makeup until after homeroom, and consequently, that she would have to fight for space in a crowded bathroom so full of smoke and people that she might not be able to draw her eyeliner on straight without getting bumped or burned. And second, sleeping in late meant that she had to ask her stepmother to drive her to school. She wasn’t sure which was worse. 

     “You need to learn how to wake up on time, Sarah,” Irene scolded, fumbling with her keys. “We’re not always going to be around to take care of you, you know. Especially next year. You need to learn to grow up.”

     Next year? Sarah rolled her eyes and leaned her forehead against the window in their car. College would be easier than today. Anything would be easier than today. Today was wretched, though Sarah had this nagging feeling that it shouldn’t be. Wasn’t there something special about today? She winced as she tried to remember, but couldn’t.

     “I didn’t mean it,” Sarah muttered. 

     “I know.” 

     I’m not sure you do, Sarah thought to herself. They drove over a speedbump that made the car clunk as it returned to the pavement. 

     “Do you have any plans tonight?” Irene asked, apparently trying to change the subject.

     “Why would I have plans?” Sarah retorted. “I’m not babysitting for you again, if that’s what you mean.” Irene glanced at Sarah confusedly. 

     “No. Of course not. Not today. I–I just thought it was something a girl your age might want to do. Maybe Betty’s boy?”

     “Peter?!” Sarah rolled her eyes again. 

     “Yes, that one. He seemed nice.”

     Sarah flared her nostrils. Peter Hensen had an awful crush on her last year, alright. And Sarah had agreed to go with him to homecoming just one time because Irene was in the PTA with his mother, Betty, and Sarah wouldn’t have heard the end of it if she had said no. Not only that, they were both in honors English and band class. Between his role as drum major and student director of the school play, she couldn’t risk upsetting him lest risk her chance of getting cast a good part in this year’s musical or have her title of flute section leader rescinded. 

     Truth be told, Peter had been kind to her during the whole date, he was a gentleman, and nothing was wrong with him that Sarah could put coherently into words. But she couldn’t help but dislike how he wanted to hold hands with her, to touch her. Constantly. His palms were clammy. And that night, his teeth were mossy. He went on long rants about how they shouldn’t perform the play Beauty and the Beast next year because romance stories are stupid, that they were for little kids. Sarah didn’t agree. But she had avoided him since last fall as consequence.

     “I don’t have plans with Peter,” Sarah muttered. On that note, Irene let the silence fill the car. They both did. There wasn’t anything else to say.

     Sarah studied her stepmother’s white knuckles as they gripped the steering wheel. Sarah did this instead of looking directly at Irene; it was easier to think that way, and more importantly, to stay angry. In fact, it could be very hard work, holding onto anger. But this was Sarah’s specialty. 

     The teenager’s eyes noted how the skin on her stepmother’s hands looked so pale it was almost translucent. So many veins. Sarah’s lips pressed into a tight line. Is that what happens when you’re a mean person? Do your hands turn into age-speckled witch claws as your veins pop out everywhere? Sarah didn’t know. But it would be stupid funny if it were true. 

     Things continued this way. At school, there was a pop quiz she didn’t know about in history and a test she was supposed to know about but didn’t prepare for in Algebra. Of course, she was vaguely aware that she hadn’t always been so forgetful, but she chocked it up to the age-old diagnosis of senioritis. The only saving grace was that the paper assigned in Mr. Whitfield’s English class wouldn’t be due for another twenty-four hours, so she would have time to write it at home.

     “Hey. What are you going to write this narrative about?” Julie from the theater crew asked this question while snapping her gum near Sarah’s ear. Julie had to whisper during quiet work time, but that made the gum snapping a bit antithetical, didn’t it? Sarah thought so. But Julie continued anyway, “I don’t have any ghost stories or bad dreams I can think of. And it’s due tomorrow. Tell me what you’re doing so I can get an idea going. You saved my ass last year during our poetry unit with that thing about the maze. You can do it again.” 

     Sarah smiled and huffed a puff of air out her nose in a kind of half-laugh, half-sigh. Julie was the best. Mostly because she sometimes blew smoke up Sarah’s ass, but also because it felt nice to be seen. And Julie saw Sarah. Or, her writing skills anyway. 

     “I’m writing about the Goblin King,” Sarah replied. She raised her hands to her temples and poked out her index fingers like pretend antlers. 

     “Again?” Julie rolled her eyes. “I’m starting to think this is just a code you’re using to signal to me you’re in an illegal relationship with a man in his thirties. Do you need help, Sarah? Should I contact the authorities? Or–,” Julie lifted her hand like a wall to the side of her mischievous, smiling mouth. “When do I get to meet this ‘Goblin King’?”

     Sarah giggled.

     “You can meet him right now if you want,” The girl pointed at her notebook, where she had started scribbling down some lines. “Just don’t copy me too much or else he’ll know.”

     “Excuse me. Ladies!” Mr. Whitfield coughed. The girls stiffened up in their chairs, their eyes darting up from their shared desk to look at him. He spoke behind thick, round and golden-rimmed glasses. “You’re either working silently on this assignment or, if you’re done, you’re reading a book quietly at your desk. We don’t need to talk to others when we write. Writing is something one must do alone.”

     Sarah and Julie shrugged their shoulders. Sarah mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’, and Julie gave a warm wink and a half-blown bubble of light pink gum, like a kiss, to tell her it was OK. 

     But right as Mr. Whitfield was about to scold them again, there was a loud, wobbling clang against the only window the room boasted. The pane of glass was about the size of the classroom door, so the sound it made after impact was more of a trembling ‘wub’ than a bang. All the students flinched in what can be described as a simultaneous sneeze-like spasm as Mr. Whittfield pivoted toward the sound, and as he did, the students followed, craning their necks in unison. 

     Sarah caught a short glimpse of what she realized was a large bird. An owl. It felt strange. Familiar. How could a bird feel familiar? Sarah blinked, but before she had time to think on this further, the creature’s wings outstretched and its eyes scrunched awkwardly closed as gravity took hold of it. It scuffled its wings in flailing, awkward flaps, as it peeled away from the glass like sticky putty. The students watched with raised eyebrows as it tumbled out of sight. They were on the third floor. 

     Ouch, Sarah thought. That was going to hurt.

     But the weird thing was, nobody heard it hit the ground. Not a soul. You’d think they would at least have seen it. But nobody did. Not even when they all went up to the window to look. And they all did. Even Sarah. They all took turns, looking. 

     “That isn’t fair,” Peter Henson grumbled. He looked at Sarah briefly and pushed up his glasses. She stiffened at him and turned back to the window. The boy spoke with his arms crossed.  “I wanted to see it hit the ground.”

Chapter Text

Rule 3: What’s Done Is Done

     It was finished. Sarah sat back in bed and flicked her pencil out of her fingers. In a decisive motion, she leaned over the side of her mattress and blew the eraser shavings off of her notebook paper so she could admire her masterpiece. 

     “Perfect,” she said with a smile. It was six pages in total. Each was a small vignette, just like what they had been studying, though she was only expected to complete five. Maybe Mr. Whitfield would consider giving her extra credit? Probably. But first, she needed to read it out loud. The last thing she wanted to do was give him more ammunition to punitively punish her. He was the kind of guy to do just that over a comma splice or run on sentence.

     “Goblin kings wear–”
     “Sarah?” 

     The voice was level, but not too deep. It was her father. Sarah perked up her head like a keen beagle and swung her legs over the side of her bed.

     “Coming!” She said, hopping off the bed and heading for her door. “What’s up?” She asked. 

     Her dad lumbered in his gray sweatpants and a thin-stretched black t-shirt. He had been out running. She could smell the soft, round and metallic scent of rain on him. It hadn’t let up all day. The storm, of course.

     “Irene wants to know if you’re coming to dinner?”

     Sarah frowned. “Do you want me to come?”

     Robert’s face didn’t give any indication that he was reacting to this information. “Well, we’re having meatballs. It’s your day.” 

     Her day? What was that supposed to mean? It was never her day. Sarah crossed her arms, and so did her dad. But he was doing it out of habit. Sarah was doing it for other reasons. He rubbed his forehead. She furrowed hers.

     All she could think about was that she hated meatballs–mostly because Irene’s meatballs were the worst. She put way too much mustard in them for any human being to bear. Why couldn’t they ever just have burgers? Or maybe a nice pizza? They never go out to eat. It’s always healthy food around here and never any fun. This idea made Sarah upset again. She had no reason for why. It’s just how she felt.

     “Then you know there’s nothing to talk about.” Sarah shrugged.

     “Alrighty then. I’ll let’er know.” 

     And just like that, her dad wandered off. Sarah closed the door with a strong flick of her wrist and got right back to her bed. Now more than ever, she wanted to keep reading. 

     “ Goblin Kings wear petticoats. Blue ones. Of this, I can be certain. I know this because he was wearing it when he took something from me, what or who he was, I didn’t know.”

     Sarah paused. Should there be a comma between ‘me’ and ‘what’, she wondered? Or a period? Was the sentence too awkward? Sarah scrutinized these questions for a long second before her eyes went wide. She reached for her discarded pencil, smudged the punctuation mark, and heightened the ‘w’ so it would be harder to tell which decision she had made. 

     “Try to take my points away now ,” she whispered. A roll of thunder simmered in the distance.  She glanced up, if only slightly, as if to listen. Then, after clearing her throat, she continued.

     “ I saw him in a ballroom. That’s what I think it was. Wax wilted like willow branches, as though they were candles that wept for one hundred years’ time . I was alone before I saw him. But when I met his gaze, he offered me his hand like it was all I’d ever need. I–”

     A pause.

     “Oh, God,” Sarah muttered. It was so sappy. And for goodness sake, it even rhymed. Why did it rhyme? Had she tried to make it rhyme? Only childrens’ books rhymed.

     “Damn,” she grumbled.

     Sarah tried to imagine the geriatric Mr. Whitfield reading over her words, her paper crumpled up in his plump, purple fingers. Another rumble of thunder, closer this time, snapped her out of her thoughts. Sarah’s face flushed red and she sighed before glancing at her clock. It was half past seven. Too late to start over. Too late to go back. Besides, that line about willow trees was pretty glitzy. Maybe it will earn her high marks?

     She read on.

     “ I danced there with him slowly, under the haze of something warm. He moved me like he knew me– though I’d never seen him before. Then, just like a shadow, he vanished like a ghost. Now, I see him in my dreams, but if I could see him again, I’d ask, 'Who are you, Goblin King, and why have you gone away? Right now, I wish that you were here more than I wish you’d ever left. ’” 

     She got no further. A final clap of thunder erupted into the air like it was right beside her, like the lightning was inside of the room. Roaring.

     Sarah jumped, raising her arms to cover her eyes. She let out a small squeal as the storm surged around her, the clouds raging from above. Had the window blown open? Had the tree outside her room been struck? Was this what they meant by grade-induced anxiety attacks?

     She opened her eyes and found out.

     At first, he was shrouded in shadow. But as the light died down from around him, she saw the murkiness fade away. When she lowered her hands, she took in the image of a man.

     He looked immaculate in his navy, high-collared coat, his knee-high black boots, a white, ruffled shirt undone around his neck, and his black tights. In his black gloved hands, he held a cane. By comparison, she was in an oversized Princeton University T-shirt and without any visible pants. There were shorts underneath the shirt, of course, but he couldn’t see that. He could have thought she was naked under that shirt, for crying out loud. Sarah clasped her notebook in front of her legs in a ridiculous attempt at modesty. She knew she had to say something. But she didn’t quite know what.

     “Uhh,” she stammered. His face became familiar. It was coming back to her, her memories. The creases by his eyes were like lines in a poem, his eyes like verse. Then, after blinking a few times, she added, “Are…are you?”

     No, it couldn’t be. She rubbed her eyes, then swallowed. The fog was clearing.

     He kept looking at her in a way that was stern, but not cruel. If he was a painting, people might ask the same question that they do of the Mona Lisa: was he smiling? Sarah wasn’t sure. But did it matter? She also wasn’t sure. What she did know was that he was looking at her like there was nothing else to see. And that was something. More than looking at her, he was completely transfixed. It was enough to make her hold her breath, which she kept doing until he spoke. 

     “A pleasure to see you again, Sarah.”

     That voice. Those strange, enthralling, serious eyes.

     Sarah inhaled deeply. 

     “I–, I….” She halted, studied the floor, glanced down at her notebook, and then back to him. The pieces behind her eyes were moving, all little cogs, rolling into their rhythms. The ballroom. This man. The Labyrinth!

     Flashes of memories returned to her. Clarity. Toby missing. Hoggle. The maze.

     She pointed at him as she spoke. “So it was real. All of it…You’re–you’re him. The Goblin King.”

     He tipped his head in a short, regal motion. “And so I am.”

     Sarah squinted as the memories returned to the cup of her mind like a leaking faucet. 

     “Jareth?” She asked, still pointing at him, as if to try out his name. She found that the sound of it was familiar on her lips.

     Yes, he was Jareth. And Jareth was the Goblin King, the Goblin King who had danced with her and almost–

     A sudden shame came over her. She was aware, now, that her feelings were complicated, to put it mildly. Some of her emotions were rooted in anger, others were not. It was all very confusing. But what made things even worse was that she was acutely aware that she had just professed her desire to see him in words that were a bit more emotional than she would have liked. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

     “Yes,” he replied, offering her a small, polite smile. It disappeared as soon as it came. “It seems the impression of my memory has been a rather permanent one.” 

     A silence passed between them. He was watching her, waiting for something. 

     Thunder rumbled again as the storm surged outside. It was warmer in the room than she remembered it had been.

     “I–uhm. Why are you here, Jareth?” She asked him. It was all she could think to say. His mouth twitched in the corners before he returned to his steady, intense staring. He refolded his hands over his cane.

     “Sarah. Sarah. Sarah.” He clicked his tongue at her. “Are you not happy to see me? Or have you already forgotten that you wished for me to come just a few moments ago?”

     Damn .

     It was at that moment that she remembered what she had learned the last time he was here. From the gooseflesh on her arms, to the heat in her cheeks, to the tone of his voice curling in the back of her ears: all of these things were signs that she could not trust him. Her body knew it. Her soul even. She couldn’t trust him. Not yet, anyway. 

     “Last time, you took my little brother,” she spoke slowly, each word coming to her like she was collecting cards. “You took Toby. I had to fight to get him back.”

     “What’s done is done, Sarah,” he said, taking a step toward her. For some inexplicable reason, she did not move away from him. “And unless you wish for it, it need not happen again. If nothing, I am a man of my word.” 

     They stood there looking at each other, deciding what kind of interplay this would be, which roles each person would take. There were a few options, but not all the cards were on the table yet. Sarah didn’t decide in that instant. She didn’t want to.

     Suddenly, Jareth’s face lit up and he raised one of his gloved hands. He was pointing at the ceiling.

     “ Oh , I almost forgot–old habits die hard. I come bearing a package,” he said. She narrowed her eyes and peered at the ceiling, mostly expecting some kind of goblin to fall from it or for a glass orb to drop itself on her head. Instead, she saw nothing. Unimpressed, she glanced back at him and found he was holding a black box.

     “What is that?” She asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. Her eyes lit up with another memory. “If it’s another snake, you can keep it.”

     He chuckled. It wasn’t a fully mocking laugh, but it wasn’t a fully comforting one either. He offered the box again to her with eyes that did not deny their eagerness, nor their focus. 

      “That all depends. Are you planning on defying me again, Sarah?”

     The girl crossed her arms. “ That depends on if you plan on playing fair, Goblin King. I hate it when you don’t. And if my memory serves me well, you didn’t last time.”

     A flash of emotions ran across his face, but before she could read them, he quickly smothered it. 

     “I don’t cheat, you know.” He was newly quiet. A few more beats of silence followed. Sarah stood there, arms crossed. Jareth also remained standing, box outstretched. 

     There was something about that look on his face that gave her pause. Was he…nervous? Perhaps he had a right to be. Last time, she bested him in the Labyrinth. She fought against him and won. She returned victorious. So in this way, Jareth had good reason to be wary of her, Sarah supposed. A very good reason, indeed. This idea made her feel safe enough to take the step toward him and inspect the box. She turned away from him to open it. Her back was to him.

     “Is…is this rotten fruit?” She asked him, disgusted.

     “It’s the remnants of an unfinished peach, actually.” 

     Sarah wrinkled her nose at the stench. The fruit was shriveled and crusty. “Not much of a present,” she said. 

     “I said package. I doubt you’ll be surprised to know that I did, in fact, choose my words carefully. I always do,” he said this from over her shoulder. Sarah jumped around to face him. 

     “What’s the point of all of this?” She demanded, giving him back the box. 

     He looked at the black wood in his hands quietly for a moment. When she met his gaze again, the box had disappeared.

     “Are you telling me you don’t remember eating it?” He asked, seeming genuinely curious.

     Sarah considered his words by rubbing her forehead. “Eating…it?” Her eyes widened as she recalled the ballroom. That’s how she had gotten there. She had eaten that peach, and he had charmed it so that she would forget. She remembered now, though she wasn’t sure why.

     “Ah.” He tilted his head. “I can see that you do remember. That is a very good start.” 

     Sarah narrowed her eyes. “What’s your point, Goblin King?”

     He tilted down to meet her in the eye, giving her a smile that was a touch icy.

     “I’d prefer it if you just called me Jareth.”

     He cocked an eyebrow at her. It made her feel strange. He…didn’t want her to use his title? But why? She tilted her chin away from him but refused to blink or back away.

     “Fine. Jareth , state your business.” 

     He leaned back and readjusted which hand rested atop of his cane.

     “It’s not my business so much as it is yours, or ours, maybe. You have eaten of the fruit of the fey realm. Do you know what that means?”

     Sarah racked her mind for what she remembered about the Labyrinth, about the Goblin King’s dominion. She came up empty when it came to how that intersected with peach eating.

      “No,” she said. Then, instead of answering her right away, Jareth did something odd. Sarah watched as he sighed and languidly walked beside her, intentionally–in Sarah’s opinion—so as to brush up against her shoulder, and sat down on her bed. It was the first time she felt his eyes peel away from her, and when they did, she shivered.

     “Hm,” he hummed like a sigh. It sounded as though her response had unpleasantly surprised him.

     But in any case, who did he think he was? Sitting on her bed? The audacity of this man! The urge to yell at him simmered like rising bile in her throat, but as he let his cane down and leaned back on her bed, resting on his elbows and looking around the room, the urge died down.

      It was odd. 

     Jareth studied Sarah’s room and she watched him do it. She watched him look around like he was inside of some kind of famous, hallowed chapel or something. He patted the mattress. He crossed his legs. That’s what really surprised her. Why was he doing things that looked so…normal? Did he do things like this last time? Did she have a chance to notice?

     The look on his face was calm and reverent. Jareth glanced up, then down, scanning every item, every corner with an intensity so tight that she wondered if he might be praying. His eyes rested for a long pause on her music box, but then continued in their searching. She wondered what he was thinking, but then again, a part of her already knew. 

     His neutral expression and relaxed shoulders, they said the same thing: he liked it here. Jareth was at ease. So, even though she knew something about this image of a full grown man sitting on her bed like this was very wrong–Sarah didn’t do anything about it. She didn’t do anything about it because she liked the way he looked sitting there. 

     What was she doing again? Oh, right.

     “So, what does it mean?” She asked, reclaiming her impatience. “The peach?”

     Jareth returned his gaze to hers.

     “Oh, yes. That.” He nodded absentmindedly, as if he had other, more important things on his mind. “You’re a smart girl, Sarah. It’s been said that eating food from the fey realm means you are to remain there. In not doing so, as you have surely noticed and I have seen in you, it will result in eventual madness. Easily reverted, of course, upon your return. The Labyrinth wants you home, Sarah. It’s where all who have consumed the food of the fey belong.” 

     Home ? Oh, he had to be joking. A silence permeated the room, though. A serious silence. As if he wasn’t kidding. The void of sound was soon replaced with the thudding of her heart in her own ears. She didn’t like it much. 

     He was counting on his fingers. “It’s starting, already, Sarah. The not being able to sleep. The memory loss. All of it. In a year’s time or less, my dear, the madness will take its full effect on you. You’ll hardly remember your own name, let alone me. You need to come back to my kingdom with me to prevent it. That’s why you called me back. Your body knew–”

     “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Sarah exclaimed. “Saying things like that? It’s–it’s insane .” She scoffed at him, her mind racing. “You’re insane if you think I’d believe you. I’m not sixteen anymore, you know. It’s harder to scare me now.” She tried to sound like she believed that. She really did.

     "What a pity." Jareth's voice was low, almost gentle. But his eyes were all warning. “After all this time, you still think me a liar.”

     Then, right as she was about to scream at him, another voice erupted through the walls.

     “Sarah?”  It was the same level tone from earlier. Her father.  “Sarah, is everything alright? Do you have someone in there?” 

     Jareth and Sarah locked eyes. At first, their shock was shared, but Sarah’s became rage, however, while Jareth’s became cool amusement. 

     “What am I supposed to tell him?” Sarah whispered. 

     “Oh, I don’t know,” Jareth replied, sounding intrigued. “What if you didn’t have to tell him anything?” 

     “What are you talking about ?” She hissed. She tossed her notebook at him and approached her door, locking it from inside. It was the only thing to be done right now. She had to figure this out. 

     Think, Sarah. Think .

      From the corner of her eye, she saw Jareth paging through her notebook.

     “Hey–”  she started, but he interrupted her.

     “Come back with me,” Jareth offered from the bed, extending his hand. “Two birds, one stone, as they say. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

     “What? Are– have you completely lost your mind?” She pointed her finger at him. Jareth raised his hands in defense, like a shrug, but said nothing.

     “Sarah?!” Robert’s voice rose in both intensity and volume. “I hear someone in there. It…it sounds like a boy?” He tried the door knob. “You locked it? For Christ sakes, Sarah. Today of all days…Open this door. Now!”

     Sarah inhaled sharply. She could hear her father fumbling with the lock. She heard him call Irene for the spare key. Sarah shuddered.

     That wench would be up here in no time. And worst of all, Sarah saw Jareth lean back on her bed, making it known to her that he wasn’t going anywhere. That bastard. He was smiling, too. Reading all her stories, liking them by the looks of it. Had he planned this?  Jareth crossed his legs again, reading wistfully, not stopping even to blink.

     “What’s it going to be, Sarah?” He asked without looking at her. “I’m staying. Either way. You wished it so.”

     Sarah Williams, panting and exasperated, pressed her hands into her face. Jareth could be bluffing, sure, but she didn’t want to count on that. Further, he was being so insistent that he didn’t lie, and this whole business of going mad was outright scary, if she was being honest. Had he ever lied before? It was hard to say. It was all so foggy, so surreal. 

     Would she really go mad? The fact that she could hardly remember the Labyrinth until this moment coupled with the notion that there was a magical man in her room that she couldn’t explain– these things didn’t bode well for her hope for sanity. But what was real was the fact that if Sarah’s dad caught her with a full grown man in her bed–she wouldn’t just be grounded, she’d be excommunicated from the family. Or worse, if her father tried to harm Jareth, could Jareth do harm to him? To Toby? Irene wasn’t so much a problem. But Sarah knew Jareth would go for where it hurts, wouldn’t he? And there was no telling what he would do. What he could do. 

     There was also a flicker behind her eyes. It was silent, like a light turning on. It was an image of that ballroom. She blinked it away. 

     “Fine,” she whispered into her hands. 

     “What was that?” Jareth’s playful voice was in her ear. She looked between her fingers to find him beside her. “I need to hear the words, Sarah. I need them plainly. I have no power over you, remember?” 

     Sarah let down her hands and gave him her angriest glare. No power over her , she considered, but that didn’t apply to other people. How could she forget how much of an ass he was? 

     “You say that like it’s supposed to be easy.” She wiped her eyes. When she opened them, she found that he had moved away from her. Jareth was standing by her open window, arms outstretched. 

     “Who said anything about easy?” He asked levelly.  “Come with me, Sarah. Before it’s too late.” 

     She glanced at the door handle as it jiggled again, then stepped back as it banged. Her father had dropped the key. But it would be open soon–perhaps the next time it was touched. Sarah heard Toby’s familiar giggle downstairs, his gurgle, a small screech. A crashing dinner plate. Irene screamed. Was Jareth taking them? Was it already too late? 

     There was no time left. She had to decide.

     “Take me back to the Labyrinth, Jareth,” she cried. “But leave my family out of this!” 

     His eyes lit up with a strange kind of shock.

     Sarah expected the room to fill with light, a sound, a spell, but it didn’t. Jareth was still standing there. Waiting. His eyes were wild with anticipation.

     “Come on then.” He gestured for her to follow. “Before he opens that door.” 

     Sarah felt her heart in her throat, but she didn’t remember walking. It felt like she was floating. When she was planted where he once stood, Jareth was already outside. Hadn’t he just been inside? How did he move so fast? Sarah touched the inside ledge of the windowsill to steady herself. She looked at him, out there, in the rain. He was hovering in the air just outside her window. His hand outstretched to hers.

     “Take my hand, Sarah,” he said. She stared at his leather gloved fingers and then down to the ground. Sarah’s room was on the second floor. A fall from this height could do more than maim.

     “I–I–but, the ground , Jareth!”

     The Goblin King’s eyes softened. “You’re just going to have to trust me, then,” he said, his voice low, like he really believed she could. She looked at him with tight anticipation, searching. Was there something in that look that could tell her it would be OK?

     At that very moment, Sarah heard the door unlock. The latch. The creaky wood hinged open. She knew her father’s eyes were on her. 

     “Sarah?!” Robert cried. It was rare to hear him scared. About anything. If it weren’t life or death, she would have turned around. But the back of her head stung like a forest fire was just behind her. So she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

     The girl took the hand of the Goblin King, and with a single step, she leapt from her room into his strong and all-too eager grasp.

Chapter Text

Rule 4: Don’t Look Down

     Sarah gasped for air as they descended. Everything was dark, like they were sinking through a funnel of inky water, and the only thing she could see was him. There were no walls, no sky, no ground. There was only the fall. So she clung to him. Jareth didn’t seem to mind. At the very least, he didn’t do a thing to stop her.

     She knew it was over when it was silent, but she wasn’t afraid any longer. In that quiet, her mind, like a chalkboard, had been wiped clean. Sarah wasn’t sure how long she sat there with him, on the ground outside his castle, clinging to his jacket with her eyes squeezed shut. But when she glanced up at him, she found him already staring down at her. He was amused. Sarah was nauseous. 

     “Do you have your land legs yet?” He asked her softly. “Though, I don’t mind waiting a little longer. I’m actually quite good at waiting.” 

     Sarah had to lean over and cough. There was a sudden, overpowering scent from him– of birch and vanilla– and it was so strong that the world was spinning. In addition to that, the fact that she didn’t eat dinner made her inner emptiness so heavy and twisted that she attempted to hurl, but found, thankfully, that she had nothing in her to vomit. 

     Sarah felt his hand on her back.

     She flinched, and though she never said the words exactly, he knew what she meant. Without a word, he lifted his hand away. 

     Sarah coughed a few more times, but nothing came of it. Her breath tasted faintly of peaches and bile. And she felt him watching her, which made her hot in the face. So, when the world felt less like it was spinning, she pushed herself up on her hands and stumbled to her feet. She needed distance. The rocks on the ground poked at the soft pads of her feet through her socks. It didn’t feel good. When she stood, everything went black again.

     “Easy now, Sarah,” he warned her. 

     She became aware that she was in his arms when she opened her eyes.

     “Better?” he asked levelly. She was nestled against him again, his arms holding her tightly. And he was smiling, but not with his eyes.

     She moaned and scrambled away as fast as she could see straight. He let her go. But Sarah was aware that he did so without her asking. It would have been nice if it had been of her own doing, her own will and strength–escaping him– but the fact of the matter was she knew from his hands and his height and his shoulders that the reality was far different than that. Was he always this tall? In any case, if she was being honest, she knew he had the strength to hold her. 

     “I’m fine,” she said.

     "Oh.” Jareth sounded like he didn’t believe her. “We’d better get going then,” he added and pointed into the broad, wooden doorway that led to the castle. “I hate being in the courtyard after dark. The goblins become unruly when they see the moon.”

     Sarah noticed that he winced as he said this, forming creases in the corners of his eyes. She blinked a few times and leaned against the cragged rock that made up the garden wall, ignoring his evident desire to leave. Her breathing was jagged, short, and shallow, and little white stars floated in her vision. She wondered how long they’d be there. 

     “I clearly need a minute,” she said coolly. The Goblin King nodded once rigidly, revealing his unsuccessful attempt at patience, before moving to her side. She didn’t look at him, but from the corner of her eye, Sarah watched as he regally stepped toward her and leaned against the wall alongside her, only about a shoulder’s length away. He crossed his arms.

    What's his deal, she wondered? But at least while she was catching her breath, she finally had time to think. Sarah considered Jareth’s words on the scales of her mind, weighing them for meaning. No, not weighing them. Sarah was counting them.

     One, Jareth didn’t want to be called the Goblin King. He wanted Sarah to call him his name.

     Two, people who eat the fruit of the fey must stay in the fey world lest they succumb to madness. 

     Three, Sarah had eaten a peach, so she was destined to stay. 

     But he had never said for how long, Sarah reasoned. How long would she have to stay here? The question left her with a pit in her stomach. Perhaps she already knew. Sarah peered at him and found that he was already looking at her. Jareth raised both of his perfectly manicured eyebrows when their gazes met.

     “You said that people who eat the fruit of the fey world must stay here,” Sarah began. “As in, within the Underground?” She knew she was trying to ask a question, and she was also aware that she hadn’t really asked one. Sarah frowned.

     Jareth tilted his head to one side, and then the other. He spoke with his hands. “I did in fact say that, yes. More or less.” 

     In her ears, a ringing sound began to whir. Maybe it was the leftover magic from the fall. Maybe it came from inside her mind. Maybe it was the breeze whipping her hair in the wind. There was no way to tell.

     “How long?” She asked him. “How long will I have to be here?” 

     In all honesty, Sarah was a bit ashamed it took her this long to conjure such a question. How could one take the hand of the Goblin King without first asking such a thing?

     Jareth began drawing circles in the dirt with the pointed end of his cane. 

     “You only just got here,” he mumbled under this breath. It was so quiet she couldn’t make it out.

     “Jareth?” She demanded. “Please. Don’t ignore me.”

     He looked up for a moment. “Indefinitely,” he replied calmly and returned to his drawings. He did not look at her when he said it. 

     “ What ?”

     “Indefinitely,” he repeated. 

     Sarah felt the breath leave her body. She slid downwards against the wall until she was sitting again. She pulled her legs up as the words were sinking in.

     “You bastard ,” she uttered the swear with an extra emphasis of malice. It felt rather unlike her, but it also felt good. “You never mentioned that when–”

     “Oh, I didn’t?” Jareth interrupted her. Sarah felt the shift in his tone like the setting of the sun. She glanced up from her knees to find him at her level, crouching. When had he knelt down? She didn’t hear him.

     Still, she had his full attention now, scathing as it was. Hot and cold, all at once. Jareth continued.  “Are you going to accuse me of being unfair again, Sarah? Is that what you want to do? It’s not very respectful, you know, after all I’ve done for you.”

     After all he’s done for her? What was that supposed to mean? Sarah recalled a moment when her mother had told her about men, as she often did when they were watching soap operas together. She’d say: Women want to feel loved, Sarah, and men want to feel respected. It didn’t make much sense then, but it was coming together now. If Sarah ever saw her mother again, she was going to ask if that rule of thumb still applied to Goblin Kings as much as mortals. 

     Sarah narrowed her gaze at Jareth as she was forced to realize the truth: she was stuck here. This world was his, and he played it to his advantage. If she wanted to get home, she would have to win again. But she wasn’t playing the Labyrinth this time; she was playing him , whatever that meant. And he might not cheat, per say, but he would do just about everything else–exploit every loophole–to get what he wanted. 

     But then again, what did he want?

     This idea made Sarah’s chest feel tingly. Last time, she was so focused on finding Toby that she had never stopped to ask why he had come to her in the first place. To find an answer, she took in his face. Jareth’s angular eyebrows were stern, and he watched her with narrowed eyes. This intense aura did not help her decode what he wanted, but if she wanted to get home, she realized she had to find out. 

     Respect? Maybe ‘respect’ she could pretend. She certainly didn’t want to show him weakness. Hopefully she could demonstrate both her own dignity and respect for him without forsaking one for the other. 

     “Alright,” she sighed.  “Fine. I won’t call you unfair. Or ‘The Goblin King’. Just Jareth.”

     Jareth offered her a small grin. It was confusing. Mostly because she didn’t hate it, but also because of how quickly he teetered from icy to warm. All the same, he wasn’t hard to look at when he was smiling.

     “Thank you,” he spoke in a manner that was perceptably kind, which perplexed her even more. After that, They stared at each other without saying anything for a while. Her legs pulled up to her chest, him, crouched in front of her. Neither of them moving. Just looking. In some ways, it felt like the very first time. In other ways, it felt like she never left. It was her who broke the silence.

     “But, if I’m here, I need to know what you want,” she began. “If this is a game to you, I’d like to know what kind? That seems fair, doesn’t it? If it’s all the same to you.”

     Jareth rubbed his cheek with a gloved hand. The wind blew a chill under her shirt.

     “Oh, Sarah,” he sighed with latent disappointment. “It’s not only about what I want. Not really. For the record, it was never about the game. The game was consequential. Secondary. Contrived, even. It was never even about the child. All of that was just to meet your many, many demands on me.” He paused. “I really did mean it, you know, when I told you that you understood nothing.”

     There was an unmistakable harshness to his words, a sourness. But a hollow aching to them, too. A yearning. It didn’t stop her from being bitter. Did he think he had the right to be stung by her somehow? After everything? Who did he think he was? The Goblin King rose steadily from the ground and brushed the dust from his clothes.

     The teenager stood up, too. A touch too quickly. She was dizzy. The idea of respect went out the window.

     “Oh, can’t you just speak plainly?!” She screamed. “You took my brother. You’ve taken me, twice now. And all I want to know is why, Jareth? Don’t you think I’m deserving enough to know?”

     “Taken you?” He scoffed. Jareth raised his right hand. The motion was so fast Sarah didn’t have time to flinch or to see how he had conjured a crystal ball. But there it was, in his fingers. And then, with a decisive flick of his index and middle finger, another appeared. He tossed them upwards and they hovered in a swinging tandem before her eyes.

     “Sarah, you called upon me. Both times. And then you want to know why I’ve come?” He paused, perhaps to look at her. “I told you in that ballroom. I told you on those steps.” His voice was hungry, dark. “I’m beginning to wonder if you just like asking questions you already know the answers to.”

     The girl studied the orbs, transfixed and curious. Sarah watched the remaining orange light from the setting sun reflect into them like the sloshing slime within a lava lamp. From inside she saw two moving pictures. In the first, she recognized the ballgown and the motions of the waltz. In the second, as she squinted to make sense of the odd shapes of the walls and illusionary stairs, Sarah realized she was watching the last encounters she had shared with Jareth: When she had won back Toby and when she had told him he had no power over her.

     At that, she heard his words, like a resounding gong. They echoed in the back of her mind.

     "Just fear me and love me," he had told her in a sweet voice, "and do as I say, and I ... I will be your slave."

     Sarah’s eyes widened.

     "And what nobody knew was that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl…”

     Jareth’s fingers were close to Sarah’s face as he called back the orbs wordlessly. He snapped his fingers, and they became mist. 

     A beat of silence. 

     Then, the realization.

     “Are…Are you saying you’re in love with me, Jareth?” She pressed her hands to her collarbone. “Truly? Really?” She wanted to laugh. Or maybe, to cry. She wasn’t sure. But from the look of his  glowering frown, she realized he wasn’t taking kindly to her tone. He crossed his arms and turned up his chin at her. His pale blonde hair, which in this light looked somewhat gray, lifted in the wind.

     “Your doubt sounds so confident, Sarah, almost as if you think you don’t share in those feelings.”

     She stiffened, and the hairs on her arms stood at attention. 

     “What are you talking about?” Her voice was small. Jareth frowned.

     “Once again, a pity,” he uttered. “I was hoping we’d be off to a better start, this time around.”

     She crossed her arms and turned away from him. She didn’t want to look at him. Or maybe, she didn’t want him to look at her. 

     “How can that be true?” She asked him. “What kind of love…” She stopped, aware that she should choose her words carefully. “How can you possibly love me?” 

     “I’m not sure you’re asking the right questions,” he told her.

     She was replaying every memory she had with him. And since she was firmly planted back in the Underground, those memories were becoming clearer. More obvious. It was like a pipe had burst: drip by drip, then all at once.

     The first thing she remembered was that he had wanted to kiss her. He had wanted to kiss her in that ballroom, and she had run away from him. Then the second truth: she had wanted to kiss him, too, but she was embarrassed. All those people. All those eyes. The heavy burden of loving someone like that. A king? And she was just a girl. It was too much to bear, so who could blame her? In any case, her cheeks flushed; Sarah was ashamed, and she didn’t know what to do with it. 

     For a while, Sarah didn’t hear Jareth move, and she didn’t hear him say anything. So, she waited with her back turned to him. But in the waiting, she was aware in some primal way that he knew she was remembering their shared past. Their memories. He was aware, and he was watching her to see how she would react. Sarah waited until the silence was gnawing at her insides like sharp teeth, until she had to turn around. Interestingly, she found that Jareth was still there. 

     At first, his presence made her feel strangely glad. She was comforted by the fact that he hadn’t moved, hadn’t vanished, turned into an owl and flown away. And yet, his arms were crossed, and one of his eyebrows was raised. He knew something. He wanted something, and he was being impatient about it. The Goblin King looked her up, then down over his nose.

     “Honestly,” he said. “You’re enough to drive any man mad.” 

     If that was his attempt at a compliment, Sarah had heard enough of him. Her heart shuddered, her knees buckled. With tight, white knuckles, she screamed at Jareth.

     “What the hell is wrong with you?!” She cried. She was, actually, crying at this point. She hadn’t felt the tears get started, but she couldn’t stop them now. “You take me down here. You say the most mind-boggling things, and–and I don’t even know what to make of whatever it was that you just said,” she spoke with flailing hands. Sarah was aware that Goblins were emerging from the bushes, their heads curling around corners and popping out of windows to watch them, their ears shifting in their strain to listen. Sarah ignored it, and took a jeering step at Jareth. The Goblin King didn’t move.  “ Games , I get, Jareth. Games and stealing children away are things people called ‘Goblin Kings’ do. But this ?” She raised both her hands in the air gesturing at everything and nothing at all. “If–if you think I’m in love with you, if you think I’ll just…I’ll just fall in love with you because you threaten me–”

     He looked pained, or maybe impatient—it was hard to tell.

     “Come now. Threaten you?” He tilted his head. “How exactly did I do that?”

     Sarah felt her eye twitch. She felt her face run hot. He had threatened her, hadn’t he? She racked her mind. In her bedroom, she felt like she had no other choice but to follow. But why? Hadn’t he…Hadn’t he done something? If it wasn’t a threat directly, his presence sure felt compelling enough to be one. Right? This undulation of messy thoughts led her to a scream.

     “Don’t you mince words with me!” She seethed, poking her finger in his face. The Goblin King raised his eyebrows at her dainty purple fingernails. Jareth’s eyes were looking right into hers, a touch serious, but mostly amused. 

     “Being angry doesn’t change the facts, Sarah.”

     It happened quickly after that. Though, she didn’t fully remember doing it. But she must have. She must have because she remembered the look on his face. His wide eyes, the wincing. She remembered the sting in her palm. And she remembered the loud, sudden clap that it made.

     Sarah didn’t care about the facts. At least, she didn’t care about them much while she slapped him across the face.

Chapter Text

Rule 5: There Are Consequences To Your Actions

     Audible gasps rang out in that garden. Time had stopped. The bushes and trees trembled as judgmental goblins clutched at their open mouths. Some of them cowered behind rocks. Many of them ran. But plenty of them raised their wiry eyebrows and stood with their mouths gaping. They had never seen that before. They had never seen someone slap the Goblin King! They couldn’t look away now. They just couldn’t.

     But especially Hoggle. Oh, yes. He had to keep looking! He was afraid to believe his eyes at first. It was dark, and he had been treating yet another fairy infestation in the rose bushes.

     “ I want them gone before sunup , Higgle ,” The King of Goblins had told him. “ Everything has to be perfect today. Do. Not. Disappoint me. ”

     Earlier that day, the Goblin King had enforced this order while leaning down, making sure to squeeze Hoggle’s shoulder and to flash a grim, small smile. But Hoggle knew well enough that it was a warning. Jareth might as well have said ‘I’m bigger and scarier and stronger than you are, so do as I say–or else I'll make you drink from the Bog of Eternal Stench for all your days.’ 

     Importantly, Jareth hadn’t mentioned to Hoggle that Sarah was the reason for all these chores, so when he heard her voice and heard them bickering, Hoggle had worried he had gone mad. Had Jareth sentenced him to the Bog of Eternal Stench already and he simply hadn’t known it till now because he had gone crazy while basking in its odor? Surely, she couldn’t be back here? She had gone home. She had been free.

     Hoggle lifted his bulbous nose to the air just to be sure. He took a long inhale. Thankfully there was no stench. Instead, there was something else: the scent of lavender and lilies. The smell of a girl. His face warmed, and he touched the place on his cheek that this very girl had once brushed with her lips. His eyes grew like widening, watery circles.

     “Lavender?” He touched his lips. “Lilies?”

     It could be no other person, for no one he had ever met had smelled as sweet. And he had only ever been kissed once, and it had smelled just like that. Hoggle dropped his spray canister on instinct and peeked over the bush just in time to see her do it. The gardener dwarf watched with wide eyes as Sarah, the young girl–no, Sarah, the Champion of the Labyrinth, –wound back her arm, closed her eyes tight, and threw her whole force into slapping the Goblin King across the face. 

     Time began again.

     Jareth did not stumble backwards. But he did flinch. Yes, he did! Hoggle watched with bated breath as Jareth's face scrunched from shock. And when the slap was done, the king pressed his fingers to his face as if to check for something. His demeanor shifted from surprise, to neutrality, to fiery sternness. It took no longer than one, agonizing second. Finding nothing, Jareth flicked down his hand and darted his dark, narrowed eyes to hers.

     Hoggle noticed that both the king’s cheeks were red, even the one that wasn't hit, and Hoggle could make out Sarah's growing handprint on his skin, like rouge watercolor smeared across ivory, even in the twilight darkness he could see it. She had hit him that hard.

     “ Yes !” Hoggle cheered under his breath. She had done it! Once again, Sarah had done the thing every living being in this realm had at one point or another, wanted to do. Praise God! But quickly, out of fear for his life and being heard or seen, the dwarf ducked down behind the bushes. He covered his head. He made himself small. He listened.

     When Jareth didn’t immediately come to punish him, Hoggle was able to perk up his ears–and then to look.

     “How dare you.” Jareth spat. Sarah backed and raised her hands to shield her face. Jareth was screaming. “Just who do you think you are?!”

     The goblins were chattering around him. Hoggle held his breath as he watched Sarah cower. This was it, wasn’t it? Jareth was going to kill her. This is how the story would end. Dear god, this is how it would end!

     The dwarf watched in horror as Jareth rubbed his cheek; the king’s other hand, clenched and trembling, dangled at his side. It looked like Jareth was gearing up. Violently. Anyone with eyes could see the storm behind his eyes, how Jareth was staring daggers at the girl with such intensity that Hoggle could hear the air humming with magic. The ground began to rumble beneath them. 

     But then, right when he expected something to happen, nothing did.

     There was sudden silence.

     Why wasn’t Jareth doing anything?

     Hoggle winced as Sarah snuck a glance at Jareth through her arms. She must have been wondering about this, too. Then, Hoggle saw something change in her.  Maybe it was the wind, or the magic in the air. He wasn’t sure. But Sarah, newly calm, let down her arms and turned her face to the side. The girl, solid as stone, pointed at her cheek.

     “Go on, Jareth.” she said levelly. “Show your kingdom what kind of a man you are.”

     The air whirred again. The goblins gasped. Hoggle's heartbeat raced. It was over. This was so, completely, and dreadfully over. But then—

     Jareth took in a deep, jagged breath. He wiped his mouth and looked behind him. The king ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head, as if having a conversation with himself internally. It appeared as though Jareth was debating something without speaking. Hoggle was confused. When he looked again, the Goblin King's composure had been, partially, regained.

     Jareth took a single step toward her. Sarah watched with sternness.

     “Why must you insist on denying the truth, Sarah?” Jareth asked, his voice somehow returning to a calm and serious tone. Sarah raised both her eyebrows. 

     “How can I not? Do you hear how you sound? You said I was crazy.”

     “Really?” Jareth touched his chest. “ I said that?”

     Sarah groaned and clutched her head. “That’s….that’s…”

     “Don’t you dare say unfair.”

     At that, a gaggle of hiding goblins let out a jeering ‘ohhhh’ filled with a gleefully wanton twinge of evil that came easily to all of them. Sarah looked around her, aware of the many eyes but not seeing them directly, and raised her face to the sky. 

     “Oh! You’re–you’re so incredibly arrogant. And cruel. And–”

     “What did you expect of me? That I would be a piece of cake?” 

     Another outburst of laughter erupted from the Goblins. Hoggle sighed. Jareth was winning this argument.  Poor Sarah. He didn’t want to see this go from bad to worse, and Hoggle knew well that Jareth did not tolerate emotional outbursts, disobedience, nor weakness even out of sentimentality. Why would Sarah be any different? Hoggle thought he knew how this was bound to go. But right as he was about to sit down in the bushes and cover his eyes again, Hoggle watched as Sarah did something he didn’t expect. Sarah took another step toward the Goblin King. There was almost no distance between them any longer. Hoggle’s brow furrowed as Sarah stopped short of touching him. The space between them could be no bigger than a booklet’s width or the size of a wrist. It was almost nothing. Nothing at all.

     “I expect that–that– if kings feel things like love, they might, oh, I don’t know? Be regal about it? Be kind? If you really loved me, that’s what you would do. Some king you are.” 

     A goblin, not visible to Hoggle, let out a loud, hissing squeal. Kindness? Regality? These things were like jokes to goblins. But you know what was even better? Making fun of Jareth! How rare it was–and how delicious! The congregation bellowed in silliness, and in no time at all, the space was filled with laughter aligned to neither side of the argument. Preemptively, Hoggle let out a breathy sigh, himself. He thought Sarah had somewhat gone off the defense. Thank goodness.

     But the thing was, Jareth looked unbothered.  

     “Regal? Is childish hitting your idea of regal?” He asked her cruelly. His voice was low now, with a latent hint of teasing. Like he knew that he had won already. Sarah stepped back a pace, but Jareth didn’t move a muscle. “Goblin Kings have their own kind of regality. But you knew that already, didn’t you, Sarah? No. Perhaps you’d like a lesson.”

     The hush among the goblins returned. Not a mouse moved. All eyes were on the girl. It took some bravery, but she spoke from her chest.

     “You talk a big game, Jareth. You always have. But you know what?” Sarah’s eyes flashed with defiance. “Not even you can force people to feel things. So, if you think I could ever love someone like you just because you say so, then you’re in for one hell of an awakening.”

     The goblins looked at their leader with puckered faces. 

     Damn, she was something. But what in the heck would Jareth do about it?  They looked at the glaring girl, anxious for answers. They curled their toes and held their breath. Would he send her to the bog?

     “Am I now?” He touched his chest again. 

     “You better believe it.”

     Jareth frowned. He was losing his patience again. Hoggle could tell. 

     “If it’s a fight you want, then perhaps a visit to the Bog of Eternal Stench would give you some clarity. I could take you there myself. Laying hands on the king comes with its consequences, you know. How’s that for fair, Sarah?” 

     Hoggle saw Sarah lose all her color. She stumbled backwards and nearly lost her footing. Jareth sighed, as if this was not going well. The Goblin King briefly touched the place between his eyes with two of his gloved fingers.

     But… Would Jareth really do that to her , Hoggle wondered? To his most beloved Sarah? Hoggle clutched at his chest. Oh, yes. Oh, yes, he would.

     And suddenly, without warning, the little man leapt from the bushes. He wasn’t sure how he had done it, moving so quickly on his short, stubby legs. He wasn’t prone to running or moving fast at all–nor was he inclined toward chivalry. But there he was, beside them, arms outstretched.

     “You can’t!” He exclaimed. Both Sarah and Jareth looked at him.

     “Higgle!” Sarah cried. The sound of his mispronounced name on her lips made Hoggle shiver. He grinned at her in a strained sort of way, and when she smiled back at him, the air warmed with a light summer’s breeze. 

     “ Hoggle ,” the dwarf panted and corrected her. 

     “Hoggle,” she agreed.

     “Hello, Heggle.” Jareth’s voice interrupted Hoggle’s daze; the sound of his king heightened his senses. When Hoggle met Jareth’s icy eyes, the Goblin King spoke levelly. “Care to tell me what you think you’re doing?”

     Hoggle stammered stupidly, but kept his arms outstretched. Jareth nodded through Hoggle’s wordless banter with his hands on his hips.

     “We speak with our words in this realm, Higswort,” Jareth said then paused, smiling wildly at Hoggle’s scrunched brow and anxious eyes. Jareth was on the edge of control. “Perhaps you mean to tell me you are trying to help Sarah again. But I’m sure you remember what happened the last time you did that, hm?”

     Before Hoggle could answer, Sarah intervened. 

     “Don’t you talk to him like that.” Sarah stepped between them. “It’s cruel.” Hoggle had to lean left to see Jareth’s reaction. The Goblin King raised his eyebrows at both of them, then returned his still-red face to Sarah. The king studied her, frowning.

     “I can be cruel, Sarah,” he said, but only to her. “Sometimes.” 

     Jareth shifted his eyes to Hoggle, who felt as heavy as cement.

     “Hoggle,” Jareth began. “I have a job for you.”

     “Your Majesty, I –”

     “Please, Jareth.” Sarah interrupted, her tone serious. “Just stop. For one second.”  The Goblin King looked at Sarah without moving his head, eyes narrow. Hoggle watched in peril as Sarah closed the last amount of distance between herself and the king. What was she doing? Surely, she wasn’t going to hit him again? They would both end up in the bog for sure if she did that. Hoggle felt his vision darken. He watched through starry eyes as the girl pressed one of her hands to Jareth’s chest. She splayed her fingers above his heart, as if to pull on invisible strings. “If you’re going to be cruel, Jareth, be cruel to me. Hoggle didn’t do anything wrong.”

     Everyone’s ears stung like a chord of bad music had washed over the space. At that, the goblins began to speak in hushed tones. They turned to their friends. They clasped their cheeks. The air was alive with their gossip, buzzing with their disbelief. 

     “ The girl would do that…for one of us ?” A female voice whispered from somewhere out of view.

     “Is she stupid?” Another asked.

     “She must be!” The first voice replied. In the air was the sound of nail biting and the clearing of throats.

     “No. That’s not how that works,” a third voice chimed. “The stupid aren’t often brave.”

     “Often?” Another asked. “As in, sometimes they are?”

     “No!” The first voice chided in a feminine rasp. “You guys just don’t get it. Sarah is the Champion of the Labyrinth. She isn’t stupid. She’s stupid brave!”

     More chatter erupted. They thought themselves very clever, chanting ‘stupid brave, stupid brave’ over and over like it was a mantra. It was becoming harder to make sense of it all, so Hoggle swallowed and studied the king to see what he would do. The dwarf was beside himself in confusion, which doubled tenfold when Hoggle found Jareth staring— with a newly intrigued expression– down at Sarah. At least, the dwarf was thankful that the king's attention wasn’t focused fully on him any longer. And yet, Hoggle couldn’t help but notice the intensity with which Jareth was watching Sarah’s face. He wondered if it was a mean look. It was hard to read Jareth. It always was.

     “Be cruel to you?” Jareth said this under his breath. “Sarah…”

     The girl in front of him said nothing. She stared forward, as serious as stone. They regarded each other as chess players do from across their boards. 

     “ Really ?” He asked her in apparent disbelief. She didn’t move a muscle. Jareth’s face was painted with something between impressed and pity. At that, the Goblin King drew a long, deep inhale as he studied her fingers. Then, in a slow motion, Jareth moved his hand over hers. 

     What did he think he was doing, wondered Hoggle? Was he going to break her bones? Curse her? But he didn’t. Jareth didn’t do any such thing. He just stood there, moving his hand to hers until she flinched when their fingers touched. Sarah’s face contorted, and she whipped her arm backwards as if afraid or disgusted. Hoggle pressed his fingers to his dry lips in anticipation of something that never came.

     Jareth’s frown deepened.

     If Hoggle wasn’t standing so close to them, he might not have heard what they whispered to each other. But he did. 

     “Please,” Sarah pleaded again in a level, serious cadence, her voice small but determined. Jareth looked pained. But that was weird, Hoggle considered, because nothing of note was happening to him . No magic, no spells, no hitting. Hoggle was puzzled. What was she doing to him? A moment went by before the Goblin King spoke again. 

     Jareth began in a low tone, perhaps to avoid additional, unnecessary eavesdropping. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Sarah. I give warnings only once.”

     Hoggle was dumbfounded. Was there some secret, silent spell that Sarah had cast on the King that Hoggle’s old eyes were too tired to notice? Could Sarah even cast spells? Could Hoggle be lucky enough to learn how to do this to Jareth? Or was this what the above ground folk might call, a ‘miracle’? Hoggle swallowed. The peaceful exchange only lasted a second before Jareth looked behind him, studying, no doubt, the countless goblins chittering in his midst. They were still screaming about ‘stupid’ and ‘brave’, but had gone off tempo, and were just clamoring out words in any rhythm that suited them.

     “Shut up!” Jareth barked. They halted, becoming mute. Just like that, Jareth was back.

     “Not a joke?” One of them whispered. The Goblin King sighed.

      “Hoggle,” Jareth said again. 

     “Er…” Hoggle coughed. “Yes, your Majesty?”

     “Bring her to her room. Make sure she has dinner. Clothes. All of it.” Jareth turned to look at Sarah. “I see no reason why we can’t continue this conversation in the morning. You must be very tired. This day is yours , after all, as they say. What is left of it.”

     There seemed to be more meaning to what Jareth was getting at than what Hoggle was capable of picking up. Sarah glared at him, saying nothing. But now, it was her cheeks that were flushed compared to his.

     “Are you hungry?” Jareth asked her. “Perhaps cake?” She shook her head. The scowl on her face communicated something along the lines of: ‘I wouldn’t eat even if you begged me to’. Jareth must have noticed, because he sighed and said:

     “Well, you’re going to have to eat something eventually.” There was a pause. “I’ll have something sent up to you.”

     Sarah didn’t say a word. Jareth rubbed the place on his cheek where Sarah had smacked him and sighed again.

     “‘Thank you, Jareth, that is very kind,’” The Goblin King mimed at the girl in a way that was supposed to sound sarcastic but came out rather tired. It felt strange to Hoggle, watching Jareth look tired. Sarah kept on glaring, saying nothing all the same.

     “Jar–I mean, Your Majesty. You mean the room that we had made up yesterday?” Hoggle asked, pressing his hands together awkwardly to break the silence.

     “The very same,” Jareth replied, not sounding happy at all. “I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking. Goodnight,” he told her briskly. And just like that, Jareth turned on his heel and began to walk inside. Sarah and Hoggle and all the goblins watched him go. In an instant, he turned into a mist without a sound or indication that he had used any magic at all. It was a bit chilling to Sarah, imagining that he could be anywhere. If he could become mist, did that mean he was one with the air? She looked around her in the dark, squinting. But it was futile.

     Hoggle let out a tiny sigh. The goblins let out a squeal and slapped their thighs, cheering about how exciting it was to see the fight, how they wanted more, more, more. 

     When he had worked up the courage, Hoggle looked up at Sarah to speak, but found her face was contorted and wet. She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a broken sob. Damn you, Jareth , Hoggle thought. Why can’t he just leave this nice girl alone? Hoggle tried to come up with something nice to say, but he decided on:

     “Don’t cry,” Hoggle offered. Sarah sniffled and wiped her nose on her arm. She nodded.

     “I’m not crying because of him,” she clarified, looking down at him through her tears.

     “Oh?” Hoggle rubbed his chin in confusion. What else could her tears be for?

     “I’m crying because I forgot it was my birthday,” she sniffed. “I’m mad that I forgot. But I remembered. I’m upset no one wished me a happy birthday. But I’m OK, don’t worry.” She smiled at him unconvincingly. 

     “Happy birthday, Sarah,” the dwarf said with some dignity. She nodded. 

     “Thank you, Hoggle. You’re a good friend.”

     The air in his chest deflated. He didn’t say anything. His throat felt tight, and he was afraid that if he started talking, he might cry. So instead, Hoggle offered the girl his arm, and she took it without so much as a second thought.

Chapter Text

Rule 6: Be A Helping Hand

     Ordinary girls who have been abducted by mythical kings might assume that the castles of these well-to-do and fantastical aristocrats would be immaculately kept. Magic should fix all foreseeable cleanliness problems, shouldn’t it? Wasn’t the whole point of a fairytale that you didn’t have to do these sorts of things anymore? But of course, Sarah knew that for the King of Goblins, she should have no such expectations. To anyone with half an eye, this place was an unkept mess. 

     Sarah was aware from a grainy sensation in her socks that the stone floors hadn’t been swept in quite some time. There must not be any vacuum cleaners in the Underground , she reasoned. As she and Hoggle moved from one corridor to another wing of the castle, she wrinkled her nose. Straw, dust, and dirt lurked in every crevice. Snoring Goblins curled in their corners on dirty mats. It made her nostrils feel stuffy. The archways had cobwebs and the buttresses were smudged with blackened goblin handprints. It looked like a barn in some of these rooms. The bottom of her feet had to have been caked in God knows what by now. These socks would have to burn.

     Damn you, Jareth, taking even my socks.

     The girl considered how in contrast to this dumpster fire of a palace, in her bedroom, everything had its place. Her books were always in alphabetical order by author, upright like soldiers on their shelves. Her nail polish ascended in a rigid R-O-Y-G-B-I-V order on her vanity, and she kept her vision board of colleges and celebrities and dreams in tidy scrapbook clippings on her wall. Even the curtains needed to be arranged in a particular way so as to see the tree outside her window at just the right angle from where she lay on her bed at night. In her domain, everything could be as it should be. In fact, Sarah had made a habit of tidying it up every night after school just to make sure that no one had been inside. And, ever since Toby had learned to walk, that was becoming a bigger and bigger problem. A few teddy bears have since been martyred, and she even had to ask her father how to use a power drill so she could install new floating shelves lest Toby strike again.

     At the thought of her room, her father, and of her sibling, Sarah stopped in her tracks. Her stomach twisted in a knot and her chest felt heavy. The image of her father’s face scrawled across her mind like handwriting on a page. It made her heart ache to think about him, in her room, crying out for her. She knew he had seen her leave. Would he call the police? Did she jump out her window in front of his eyes and vanish without a trace? Did he see Jareth? If she ever got home, how would she explain this to him? And most importantly of all, how would she get home?

     “This way, missy.” Hoggle gestured for her to follow. “You aren’t getting confused again, are ye’? This ain’t no Labyrinth.”

     “What?” Sarah replied distantly. “No–No. I’m not confused.”

     This wasn’t completely true. Sarah was standing in the hallway, squinting as strange clarity began to fill her mind and body. 

     “I don’t like it here,” she said. 

     “‘Course you don’t,” the little man huffed. “But you came back, didn’t ya? What else did you expect it to be like?” 

     Sarah tilted her head to one side as she considered the question. “I–I guess I forgot how it looked.” Sarah lifted up her left foot and clutched it by the ankle, glancing over her shoulder at the blackened pads of her socked feet. “Why does he keep it so messy?”

     “How should I know?” The dwarf shrugged. “The man’s busy.” Hoggle brushed off his arms as he moved forward. “Your room he wanted nice and clean, though. It’s just through that door.”

     Hoggle pointed at the last door at the end of the hallway. It was more ornate than many of the others, with a hand-carved maze etched into the dark, heavy wood. Sarah could see in the flickering candelabra light that it was pulled shut, but a brightness burst out through the bottom slit between the frame and the floor. Whatever was inside of that room was lit up like the morning sky.

     “I’m not sure why you came back at all,” Hoggle said, taking her out of her thoughts again. “Not that I ain’t happy to see, ya. I am.” He pursed his face to find the words. “You had every reason to go, I mean. I just thought you was done with this place is all.”

     Done with this place? Sarah shuddered. She clenched her hands as she turned over his words in her mind. If Hoggle was here, that meant Ludo and Sir Didymus were here somewhere, too. All of them. Why would she ever want to be done with them? And as she was reminiscing about the journey, the woods, and the fights, a flash of a memory darted through her vision: of swaying music and murmuring guests, of Jareth’s outstretched hand reaching to touch her face. Sarah immediately scrunched her nose at once and blinked the memory away. No, no. Stay focused. But, why was this question so hard, she wondered? What was wrong with her? She glanced at Hoggle, who was kicking some dirt on the floor to avoid looking at her.

     “Hoggle?” She said calmly, moving forward.

     “Y-Yes?” He replied as he hopped to keep pace.

     “I will never be done with my friends,” she insisted, believing the words when they left her mouth. “And, to answer your question, I think I had to come back because…because I couldn’t stand to forget you.”

     Hoggle softened and went quiet for a few moments as they stopped in front of the door. “You was forgetting me?” He asked.

     “Not anymore,” Sarah patted his arm. She must have wanted him to be sure, so she gave him her most convincing smile. “And I never will again.” She nodded. If nothing else, it was good that Hoggle knew that. 

     Something within him stirred. He still wasn’t used to being smiled at in any real way. But when Sarah smiled at him, it was real.

     They were in front of the doorway now. Sarah inspected its craftsmanship from up close. In part, she was looking for trap doors, for a floor tile that might give out from under her. But she found no such thing. It was just a pretty door. On it was the Labyrinth alright, hand-carved and all. She would recognize that pattern anywhere. Sarah pressed her hand over the grooves and traced a few lines with her left hand. Right when she was thinking of reaching for the handle, she heard a strange voice.

     “Are you just going to stand there all day?” A gurgly, grumbling female voice inquired. Sarah stepped back and raised her hands. Was this door talking to her? Sarah squinted in the darkness. Sure enough, the knocker on the door had a face, with living eyes and scrunching lips. She should have known.

      “Go on. Ask me,” the door handle insisted. “You need to ask a question to get this started.”

     “You have got to be kidding me,” Sarah complained. “Look, I’m very tired. The Goblin King said this was my room and that you must let me in. You don’t want to make him angry.” And to herself she muttered, “Trust me.”

     Sarah wagged her finger like she was reprimanding a small child. The handle considered this by rolling its eyes. 

     “Hmmmmm,” it hummed. “Nope. That’s not the question. Nor is it a question at all.” The door knocker cackled like a witch who’d heard a joke.

     Sarah crossed her arms. “And he thinks I’m going to just fall in love with him. With things like this…maybe in a million years,” she muttered, rubbing the place between her eyes.

     “What are you gettin’ at?” Hoggle asked, annoyed. “The door knocker is a lady, Sarah. Not a ‘he’. Are you even listening?” 

     “Hm” Sarah lifted her head. “Yes, Hoggle. Of course I am. But, how are we supposed to get this door open?” Sarah gestured at it impatiently. “Do you think it’s more work than it’s worth?”

     “Oh! Now that’s a question!” The knocker spoke in melodic cadence. “For a question heard, a riddled verse. I open with the truth. I am a mirror with no glass, reflecting hopes when thou doth rest. I am deceitful above all things, but also true when doth achieved. What am I?”

     Sarah continued to rub the place between her eyes. “Maybe I should just sleep on the floor,” she said defeatedly, glancing at Hoggle.

     The dwarf felt his chest tighten. If the King of Goblins found out that Hoggle hadn’t done what he had been asked to do, it would be a week in the oubliette for sure–if not the bog or some other equivalent threat. 

     “N-No!” Hoggle shook his head at once. “Don’t be ridiculous. If you can solve the Labyrinth, Sarah, what’s this riddle to you?” 

     Sarah tipped her head to one side and then another, studying her frazzled friend. “Why do you want me to go in there so bad, Hoggle?” She pointed at the entryway with her thumb. Hoggle felt his skin prickle. But he was too tired to tell a lie. 

     “Let me put it this way. If Jareth finds out you’re sleeping on the floor, you and I are toast.”

     Sarah considered this information and shrugged. “That sounds…about right.” She sighed. "Let’s go ahead and give it a try then.” The girl narrowed her eyes and leaned against the wall. She counted the phrases on her fingers. “I am a mirror with no glass, reflecting hopes when thou doth rest,” she paused, recalling the words. “I am deceitful above all things, but also true when doth achieved.” A flash behind her eyes. This was easy. 

     “Dreams!” She exclaimed. Then, she frowned, understanding its implications. Really, Jareth? Dreams ? Wasn’t that just a little bit tacky? “Dreams,” she muttered, begrudgingly. 

     “Cooooorrect!” The tiny face cried. There was a latching click, and the knocker closed its eyes. 

     “See?” Hoggle insisted. “It wasn’t even hard for ya.”

     “Maybe, but now I gotta go in there ,” Sarah pointed. She stared at the door with her arms crossed. “What if there’s…I don’t know? What if he cursed it?” Sarah asked the dwarf. 

     Hoggle held his sides with his pudgy little hands. “Doubt it,” he said. 

     “How can you be so confident?” Sarah raised an eyebrow.

     “Well, he’d probably just send you there by now. To an oubliette I mean. He could if he wanted.”

     They both stood there, looking at the door. They were silent for a long while.

     “Are you going to go in first then?” She asked Hoggle.

     “Me?” He laughed nervously. “Isn’t the saying ‘ladies’ first?”

     Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. What was he? Chicken ? The girl furrowed her brow at the realization that they shared in that feeling. Instead of moving, they continued staring. Sarah yawned. She really needed the rest. 

     Whatever , she thought. What do I have to lose ?

     “Well, here goes nothing I guess,” she said. Sarah pulled the handle and found that it wouldn’t budge. She scoffed, but if she was being honest, she was a bit relieved. She held on to her spite all the same.

     “I thought the door said my answer was right?” She said indignantly. The knocker opened its eyes again.

     “Oh no!” It cried. “Maybe I misremembered the riddle. Let me see.”

     “If you misremember the riddle, how am I supposed to solve it?” Sarah demanded. 

     "That’s another question,” The knocker replied cheerily. “For a question heard, a riddled verse. I open with the truth. A pale jewel hidden deep inside, in its chambers, secrets often hide. Deceitful at times, it leads astray, Yet guides the truest on their way. What am I?”

     If she could, she would have rolled her eyes so far into the back of her head as to see her own mind. Sarah was not usually one to lose her patience, but a part of her wanted to punch the door. At least, she would have if she thought that would have any meaningful effect. 

     “Maybe, we’ll go get Jareth,” she posed to Hoggle in a level tone so sharp that might have matched the Goblin King in coolness. “I’m sure you know where he sleeps. Come on, I think I’m going to take the matter up with him personally.” 

     The idea of agitating the King while he was sleeping made Hoggle feel like vomiting. 

     “That ain’t going to solve nothing,” he insisted fearfully. “You’re supposed to solve the riddle, go to sleep, and see him in the morning. Are you not listening’ to me? You’re lucky he let you go. Pickin’ fights ain’t going to help ya.” 

     Sarah tried the door again, straining against the weight of it. It was of no use.

     “I told you. I open with the truth,” the door sang with a confidence that was close to teasing.

     “It wants an answer. Let’s try to give it one,” Hoggle replied in a tone that revealed his anxiousness. “I’m tired,” he added, so as to not sound so cowardly.

     “Me too,” Sarah sighed. Was this her life now? Cruel riddles and strange magical men with odd agendas? But then again, what was there to do about it right now other than give this a try? She was tired. She hadn’t eaten. She didn't really want to go through the trouble of finding Jareth in his pajamas or whatever he wore to bed to yell at him....Did she? No. No. She didn't. Thinking straight took all she had in her tank. The only way out Sarah could see was through.

     The girl scrutinized the engravings of the door, searching them for further meaning. She weighed the enigmatic phrases over in her mind. She let them turn over like waves. If she was nervous, she wasn’t showing it. 

     “For a question heard, a riddled verse. I open with the truth,” Sarah knelt down and plucked a white rock off the floor. It was one of many bits of litter available, and she assumed this piece would work as a solid makeshift pencil. She began to scratch the words into the stone floor, which made Hoggle lightheaded to watch. He wasn’t sure which was worse? Vandalism or disobedience? He supposed he would find out either way at this rate. 

     Sarah narrated as she wrote.  “A pale jewel hidden deep inside, in its chambers, secrets often hide. Deceitful at times… it leads astray, yet guides the truest on their way. What am I?”

     She dropped the rock when she was done and stepped back, staring into the ground. Hoggle followed suit. He leaned back and crossed his arms in a studious way. Perhaps he could be of some help to her. He did, in fact, know how to read.

     “It used the word deceitful in both riddles,” he said.

     “Right,” she agreed. “But I don’t think that’s it.”

     Hoggle was insulted. He grumbled. “Ye think you know better, eh?”

     “Well, I don’t know. But look,” Sarah gestured at the words, unbothered by his tone. “When I answered its literal question the first time, it didn’t open. That makes me think the words of the question aren’t as important as it wants us to think they are. It’s just asking any question, but it doesn’t actually want the answer. It wants something else. It’s like a red herring.”

     Sarah was proud she remembered that term. It was a literary device she had studied in English class and planned to use on this year’s AP exam–if she ever had the chance to take it.

     “I’m not an ‘it’!” hollered the door. The voice pulled her from her thoughts, but Sarah rolled her eyes and kept on thinking. Sure . You’re not an ‘it’, she joked to herself, but you’re certainly unfair.

     From within the chasm of her aching mind, a lightbulb went off like that of a camera flash. “Of course,” she muttered. “Of course that’s what he’d do.”

     “Of course what?” Hoggle sounded exasperated. He wasn’t getting it. Sarah had to explain.

     “The door is asking us something other than a riddle. Listen,” Sarah pointed at the last three words on the ground. “‘What am I ’?” Sarah punctuated the sound of the last word. She looked into the eye of the door knocker, confidently and composed this time. “You’re unfair,” She said, pointing her makeshift rock-pencil like it was a wand. And just like that, the door knocker screeched like it had seen its death and fell right off the wood. Sarah smiled in a satisfied way as it clinked against the ground and shattered. It felt good to know things. 

     “Now, it should open…” She trailed off in her words as she took the handle. To her satisfaction, the door opened without a hitch, and the light from inside filled the hallway, flowing out like mist on a foggy morning. Hoggle peeked around her to see inside.

     “Oh,” Sarah said, sounding surprised as she took in the room. Hoggle sort of knew what it was. But Sarah knew it well. It wasn’t a fancy castle chamber, or a dungeon, or even dirty. It was her bedroom. From back at home. Sarah stepped inside and took in a breath. It even smelled like the air freshener she used. Her eyes scanned the shelves, the walls, the windows. Everything was where it should be. Is this what he had been doing when he was in my room earlier, she wondered? Recreating it? He had gotten every detail down to the centimeter of perfection. A swell of relief filled her body as she kicked off her socks and threw herself onto the bed. She was home. Kind of. 

     For now.

     “Did he do this?” Sarah asked Hoggle, her voice muffled by her pillow. Maybe she could figure things out in the morning. The smell of her laundry detergent and the softness of her blanket called to her, beckoning for her to turn off the lights.

     “His magic did,” Hoggle felt the need to clarify for some reason. “He can’t build nothing for his life.”

     She chuckled like what Hoggle said was funny. Sarah rolled over and studied the canopy above her, blinking at its warm, orange fabric. This wasn’t so bad , she thought to herself, of all the things, this wasn’t the worst he’d done . She thought it would have been worse and was glad it wasn’t.

     Hoggle just stood there, looking at her in her bed. “I guess I’ll leave you to it then,” he said in a way that revealed his awkward discomfort. He looked about the room, taking in all of its strangeness. It was nothing like anything in Jareth’s realm. Nothing at all. But then, he saw something he found to be important.

   “What’s that?” He asked, pointing. Hoggle actually knew what it was, but was simply hoping Sarah would be kind enough to share before he left. The girl sat up and followed his finger to her desk. Atop it was a large, brown cake, swirled with white frosting and cherries dotting the outer rim. Black forest cake. Sarah’s favorite. In the center was a single, flickering candle. It hummed when she looked at it, as if she could detect a faint strum of music as it twinkled. 

     “A birthday cake,” she sighed and hopped off her mattress. She sauntered over to the desk and poked the side of it with her index finger, studying the frosting for legitimacy. She considered screwing up her face with a scowl, but assumed Jareth wasn’t around to see it, so she didn’t. She just stood there, staring wearily.

     Hoggle approached her side and touched the edge of the desk, his thick fingers curled around the wood of the table. His nose peeked over just enough for him to smell the richness of the chocolate and the sweetness of the vanilla frosting. His mouth watered. Sarah glanced down at him and saw his eyes were wide.

     “Want some?” She asked.

     “Oh, well, I–”

     “Here,” she said, giving it to him without letting him finish. “Give some to the goblins if they’re hungry. I’m not eating it.”

     Hoggle took the heavy cake platter in both his hands and blinked in surprise. “You’re–you’re sure?” He stuttered. 

     “One hundred percent,” she added. “I’ve gone to sleep without dinner before. It’s nothing new to me.” 

     Hoggle wondered if eating Sarah’s birthday cake would be frowned upon by Jareth. But then again, as his stomach gurgled, he wasn’t sure he cared.

     “Just promise me something, Hoggle?” Her voice waned into quietness as she sat back on her bed. Hoggle stood there holding the cake, looking at her and then to the flickering candle and back to her.

     “‘Course,” he said.

     “Can you find out where Ludo and Sir Didymus are for me?” She laid back and pulled the blankets around herself as she said it, sniffing the fabric and closing her eyes. “If I’m going to beat Jareth this time, I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

     She sounded like she was already falling asleep. Hoggle’s knees felt wobbly at her request. On one hand, he had already said he would help. But on the other, she asked him an impossible question. He had to choose his words carefully. He knew Jareth could be listening.

     “I’ll look for em’,” he said solemnly, not promising to do much more than that. “Now you get some rest.” 

     Hoggle turned and began to head out of the room. As he closed the door behind him, he could have sworn he heard the flapping of wings somewhere. Perhaps an owl in the rafters. But maybe if he didn’t check, nothing bad would happen. The dwarf stared into the flickering candle and blew it out, wishing for things to go alright, for things to not end badly like they did last time. The smoke sifted upwards, twirling in a coil and smelling like the ashes at the end of a battle.

Chapter Text

Rule 7: Patience Is A Virtue

     From the innermost chambers of the castle, behind doors made of solid marble, the Goblin King lounged in the dark on a wingback chair made from mahogany wood and reindeer bones. Tall, stained-glass windows adorned all four walls and cut the moonlight into fragments of colored, smeary glimmers. These hues fell across Jareth’s eyes as he sat cross legged, staring into the crystal ball in his right hand.

     This was the only place in the castle where his many subjects were not permitted to go, so it maintained a considerable level of tidiness compared to the rest of the palace. There was no dirt on the floor, no straw. It was quiet. But there was an unmade bed at the back of the room. Cold, navy blue sheets twisted in restless piles on the mattress, reflecting the sorry truth that some nights, he didn’t sleep. This was one of those nights. 

     Jareth was watching her again. He needed to make sure that things were going as they should. She had successfully solved the riddle on her door, but much to his dismay, she didn’t seem as overjoyed with its solution as he had hoped she would be. Didn’t she enjoy these games , he wondered? It was certainly amusing to him to watch her spark into life with an answer. That was the whole point of them. To give her that fire. The last time she was here, it seemed to Jareth that Sarah had enjoyed that part– the solving of riddles. He liked watching her be brave and clever. Though, he perhaps enjoyed toying with her when she had won just as much as she’d enjoyed winning. It was a nice little game they had. 

     Or so Jareth had thought. 

     The Goblin King rubbed his hand over the skin of his cheek where she had slapped him, where it still stung to the touch, and he frowned as he thought about her untempered, unexpected rage. She had never gotten so angry with him before. Jareth wasn’t exactly attuned to mortal, above-ground ethics in any coherent sense, but he was certain that keeping Toby in his kingdom was of more gravity to Sarah than admitting her most basic, obvious feelings? He didn’t like admitting it, but that couldn’t happen without punishment again. For her sake, he hoped she would pull herself together. He had a reputation to uphold.

     Jareth yawned and returned his eyes to the glass, watching her throw herself onto the bed. He glanced at his own pile of sheets as if to consider following suit, but was pulled from his thoughts as he heard her through his crystal.

     “ Did he do this? ” Sarah’s voice warbled through the glass. He knew she was talking about the room. But more importantly, she was talking about him. Jareth raised an eyebrow to himself, as if to ask: who else would have done it? Still, something in him stirred at the thought that he was on her mind.

     “ His magic did. ” Hoggle’s voice replied in a gurgle. “ He can’t build nothing for his life .”

     At that, Jareth rolled his eyes. 

     The Goblin King’s subjects were, quite frankly, always in need of admonishment. The sheer amount of disobedience Jareth was required to address on a daily basis was mind-numbingly exhausting. From insubordination to ignorance, the list was never-ending. Jareth kept Hoggle’s newest slight in the back of his mind, like a tally on the walls of his memory–never to forget, just another thing to deal with later. Perhaps Jareth would have him count rice grains in the cellar again–or paint the garden roses in Sarah’s favorite color by hand? Or maybe, Jareth smiled, he would invite Sarah to come up with a punishment herself. It would be good practice.

     Jareth returned his gaze to Sarah. He watched her groggily as she nestled into the blankets and closed her eyes. It was nice, watching her. He was glad he wouldn’t have to do it from a glass orb much longer. It would be soon, he could tell, that she would be at his side– for men with as much magic as him could sometimes know these things. They could feel it in their heart’s wordless groanings, in their sleepless dreams, in the whispers from the shadows. There could be no denying her beauty, nor her passion which came naturally with her youth. But that was not all that Sarah was to him. It was hard to explain.

     Jareth blinked as she rolled over, imagining how her high spirits and joyous laughter would refresh his enervated inner fire. The many years of lonely rule over his ramshackled empire were coming to a close. Soon, it wouldn’t be so lonely anymore. Soon, she would rule by his side.

     This image of her in his arms stirred all the natural things it could in a man. And to be clear, he felt them deeply. Hungrily. But to think about them too long would make his insides run wild in ways he didn’t want to deal with, so Jareth sighed and stood from his chair.

     It would require patience, waiting for her to come to her senses. Time. And now, they had nothing but time. Jareth tossed the orb into the air, watching it wander away into the ceiling like a misty bubble. He wondered what kind of dreams she might have.

     “Oh, Sarah,” he muttered to himself. Her name echoed along the walls of his room. “What am I going to do with you?”

Chapter Text

Rule 8: Mind Your Own Business

     Hoggle was just trying to mind his own business. And thankfully, goblins were never in the library. They hadn’t much of a penchant for reading, he supposed. So it should have been a safe place to finish off that cake without anyone noticing. But then again, when had he ever been so lucky?

     Hoggle did finish the cake, for the record. He snuffled it down in under five minutes and passed out like a cheery babe on the topside of an old church pew. So in a sense, he had won. But the memory of the cake hardly meant anything at all when he was shaken into consciousness by a gaggle of goblins, screaming their bloody heads off like someone had up and died. Hoggle snapped upwards when he realized a mob of ten or so crummy, clammy hands were pulling on him. Shaking, shaking. Incoherent and fearful voices shouting, “Wake up! Wake up! Mister Higgle, Sir, you must wake up at once!”

     “Ye ain’t gettin’ any!” he said hysterically, not fully forming words, but grunts and sounds. He took in the image of the horned and hairy faces of a small group of beastly creatures, some wearing helmets, others holding spears. One of them was in their underwear. Hoggle coughed. “There ain’t none left for yous. Go on now. Scat!”

     The goblins blinked at each other, fully alert and yet also confused. One of them sneezed.

     “What’s he getting at?” A male goblin asked with an impatient huff, pointing at the others. “We don’t want nothing but your hand.”

     “Well,” Hoggle hugged his arms worriedly, “You ain’t gettin’ those either!”

     The goblins consulted each other with shrugged shoulders. The helmeted goblin smacked his forehead.

     “Not your hands, idiot! We need your hand .”

     “As in we need your help!” Another chided. Hoggle had begun to brush the remaining cake crumbs from his coat as they cheered, as they often did for no reason at all. When Hoggle parted his lips to explain his personal politics regarding the particularly egregious concept of self sacrifice, someone else’s warm-throated scream took hold of the morning air. This one was muffled, echoing off chamber walls and through the levels of the palace like knives through butter. Even through stone, it was distinct. 

     “Sarah?” Hoggle leapt to his feet. The goblins cheered in joyful unison, and they began to chant ‘ Sarah! Sarah! Sarah! ’ like this sort of thing would be helpful to the dwarf, or perhaps to simply congratulate him on understanding the premise of their arrival. 

     “What’s wrong with the missy?!” Hoggle asked them in their chanting.  But they did not listen. They had formed a merry circle, marching in tandem screaming ‘ Sarah! Sarah! Sarah! ’ to a tune Hoggle didn’t recognize. To get their attention again, the dwarf had to snatch one of them by their scruff, as he had often seen Jareth do. “Don’t play silly with me!” Hoggle snapped. “What’s wrong with the lady?”

     But before the goblins had the chance to give their version of a helpful reply, he heard her again.

     “Don’t you touch me!” Her voice boomed. “Paws off! Get back! No. No !” She squealed.

     Hoggle dropped the goblin and darted from the room, not looking around or taking the time to ask a single question. He had to find Sarah. He just had to.

* * * 

     Sarah was standing on the top of an armoire. Why there was an armoire in the middle of the hallway, she didn’t know. But to be clear, she was thankful for it!

     Sarah stood holding a broomstick out like it was a weapon of mass destruction from her perch on the fancy closet. She had snuck out of her room to find a bathroom at the crack of dawn and, among many other problems, she had gotten lost. When the goblins had seen her and had asked what she was doing, she said without much thought that she was on her way to ‘get dressed’. But you see, they thought they could help her with this because they knew where Jareth had kept the laundry. They thought that she was just confused. 

     So, here they were, clustered around the base of the closet, throwing dirty laundry at her. A large swathe of at least twenty different goblins–hairy, horned, and misshapen– jeered in excitement at her feet. Some of them brandished swords, others held up fistfuls of wadded garments. They were trying to get her to come down. But they were doing a piss poor job of it.

     “You gotta come down here!” One of them screeched. “Get dress!”

     “No good up there!” Another cried. “No good!”

     “King Jareth coming!” A third voice exclaimed. “Down! Down!”

     Sarah had to swat one of them away as he crawled up the closet door, a pair of knickers between his teeth.

     “Oh!” She winced, pushing him off with a hint of force. The goblin plopped down to the floor like a cup of ice, clanging. “Won’t you please just leave me alone?!” 

     But the crowd simply howled cheerfully as if they didn’t hear her. Or, as if her begging only made them hungrier.

     “Down! Down!” They clucked again. Sarah had to duck to avoid being hit in the head with a pair of what she could only assume was a pair of Jareth’s tights. She darted them by just a hair.

     Is this how it ends, Sarah wondered? Death by dirty laundry? She crouched on the armoire, ready to take her chances by jumping over them all and making a mad dash for her life, when she realized she could probably call on somebody to help her.

     “Jareth,” she mouthed his name, barely saying it at all. It meant the death of her pride, in a way if she did it, but then again– she couldn’t take much more of this.

     No , she shook her head, I will not be doing that . She would not call upon the ‘mighty name of Jareth’ to come and save her again. That rarely ever worked out the way she wanted, but she could leverage his name in her favor. These goblins respected him, right? At the very least, they feared him. She could work with that.

     “Excuse me?” She waved her hands at them. “Goblin…court?” Yes, that sounded professional. “Members of King Jareth’s Noble Goblin Court. I need you all to be quiet so I may speak.”

     She used a strong blend between Mr. Whitfield’s scalding tone and a regal fairytale decree. Sarah turned the broomstick upwards and clunked it on the wood of the armoire as if it were a gavel. “You’re either standing there silently or listening to me,” she added with a hand gesture, for a moment feeling bad for all the high school teachers she ever disregarded in this way. 

     The goblins hushed in their merriment banter. They held their breath. They became still. Was there some kind of magic in the teacher tone? Perhaps. No time to think on that now.

     She stood before them, tall, chin upright, shoulders back, and most importantly, trying to remember that she wasn’t just Sarah Williams, one of many faceless seniors at Baxterville High School, currently clad in her pajamas. But in fact, she was Sarah, the Champion of the Labyrinth, and this was something she never wanted to forget again.

     “Thank you all very much,” she started, “I–uhm. Me and…Jareth.” She paused like she had tasted a sour candy. “We appreciate very much what you’re trying to do for me.” She nodded with closed eyes and touched her chest. “But I also know that if I were to get dressed in front of anyone, Jareth would have to banish them to the Bog of Eternal Stench for all their days.”

     There was an audible gasp amongst the crowd. They looked at each other and clutched their faces.  

     “The bog?” They whispered at once, terrified. Sarah straightened her posture, nodding like it would help. But the hush sounded full of worry, then curiosity, and then, finally, disbelief. 

     “All of us?” They asked. “Could he do that to all of us?”

     Sarah sensed that the room may be running away from her, and with it, her hopes for escaping this situation unscathed. She furrowed her brow and swallowed, searching the room for help, a sign. Anything.

     Sarah was in a hallway with a single, long, sun-bleached, red and gold rug. The only piece of furniture was this armoire sandwiched between two windows. She followed the stretch of the rug down to the archway, seeing no one. She then glanced the other way. She let out a sigh and found a familiar figure standing with his hands clenched. He was panting, hunched over and out of breath.

     “Hoggle!” She shouted. The dwarf looked up at once and met her gaze. Yes, Sarah nodded, that’s it. 

     But calm down, Sarah, calm down. You can’t sound convincing when you’re nervous. You’ll talk too fast. In a much more collected voice, she continued. 

     “Please, everyone, say hello to my friend, Hoggle.” Sarah gestured with an outstretched hand. The goblins made a motion of turning around to look. Some of them even said hello.

     “Hoggle, would you mind telling everyone what Jareth did when I kissed you once?”

     There was a small gasp amongst the room. 

     “Kiss?” One of them asked. Sarah repressed the worry that she should not have said this.

     The dwarf’s face went bright red with embarrassment. “I–uh….”

     “It’s Ok,” Sarah insisted, a touch too eagerly. “Tell them. Please.”

     Hoggle, aware that he had walked into a situation he did not understand, felt inclined to run away. But he stared at the goblins surrounding his friend and her blatant look of panic, and the dwarf stammered with folded hands. “I–erm. He made me…the Prince of Stench.” 

     An outcry erupted from the goblins. They dropped their weapons. One of them began to scream in terror. A few darted right out of the room. Sarah let out a heavy breath; she had won their fear, but at what cost?

     “So,” Sarah continued, calling them back to her. “Thank you very much for all your help, but as you can see, Jareth is very serious about these things. I wouldn’t want any of you getting hurt.”

     They looked at each other, and then to her, silently. These words were foreign to them. She…didn’t want to hurt them? How queer. How odd…How sweet?

     “Thank you,” she tried again. A murmur emerged among them. 

     “You can go on now.” She paused. “Go on, now. Please let me handle things.” 

     They looked around and shrugged their shoulders. One by one, they filed out of the room, confused, dazed, and gossiping like churning wildfire about how this Labyrinth champion Sarah girl cared enough about them all to keep them from the bog. How odd she was, indeed.

     When they were all gone, Sarah sat down on the armoire and began to slide her way off of it.

     “I’m sorry, Hoggle,” Sarah sighed. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I didn’t know how else to get them to leave.” 

     When her feet hit the ground, she heard an unexpected voice.

     “Well then, it seems you did a fine job of it,” The Goblin King teased.  

     Sarah Williams flinched as she met his gaze. How did he get in here so fast? She raised the broom handle in his direction like it was a sword and he was her opponent. 

     Jareth, the King of the Goblins, was wearing his silk white shirt undone around the collar, and his normal tighter-than-they-should-be pants and leather boots. Sarah was still in her oversized Princeton t-shirt and pajamas shorts.

     “Oh, come now, Sarah,” Jareth said with open arms. He took a step toward her and brushed the broomstick away. “Let’s have none of that.”

     She wasn’t sure why, but she let him do it. She knew she didn’t want to hit him. She was too weak, too tired. Or something. Jareth looked over his shoulder. 

     “Hoggle, you are dismissed. We need not see you today. Make yourself scarce.”

     Hoggle bowed. “Y-Yes,” he said, and darted from the room. Sarah frowned. Why did he have to be so short with him ? It didn’t make any sense to be cruel. Sarah stood there looking at Jareth, who watched until they both couldn’t hear Hoggle’s footsteps any longer. They were fully and truly alone then. Just the two of them.

     “How did you sleep, Sarah?” Jareth asked. The King of Goblins turned his full attention to her and gently plucked the broomstick from her hand. When she relinquished it, he smiled at her and set it next to the armoire. 

     “Fine,” she said. His smile became more coy, as if he knew she was lying. “Very good, actually,” she elaborated, uncertain as to why she felt the need to.

     “I’m glad,” he said, offering her his arm. “I have to say, I am impressed with you.” His voice was soft, gentle. Perhaps even encouraging. She looked at his arm.

     “Why?” She asked him.

     “For how you handled it all back there. All nat-ur-ál. Like you were born for this,” he chuckled. When she didn’t take his arm, he added in a lower tone. “I’m not going to bite you, you know. I just thought I’d walk you to where you need to go. Show you around.”

     Jareth gestured for Sarah to take his arm again. She stood there rigidly.

     “And where do I need to go?” She asked with a hint of sass. Jareth made a weird face.

     “Ah. Well, probably back to your room for a change of clothes. And then later, breakfast.”

     Sarah swallowed. She was starving and she absolutely still needed to pee. She hated that he knew these things. She also hated that only he knew how to find the things she needed. But if she wanted to get home, perhaps she would need to talk with him for a while, to figure out his weaknesses, to figure out how she could get out of this place.

     Sarah sighed and took his arm. It was going to be a long day, and it was only just beginning.

Chapter Text

Rule 9: Don’t Hold Back

     Sarah wasn’t sure what she was expecting it to feel like. Perhaps she imagined he would burn her to touch, or that he would be too cold to bear for long periods of time. But no. The Goblin King walked with Sarah, arm in arm, and it didn’t feel that strange at all. That was the really weird part, how normal he was up close. He wasn’t that old, but he wasn’t that young either. He didn’t fly, didn’t sparkle. At most, she felt a warmth emanating from him, but then again, she couldn’t really complain about it in such a drafty place as this.

     If she wasn’t so busy mentally preparing for wherever he was taking her, she might have had time to notice the details of the palace more thoroughly. But her mind was whirring. Would he make her undergo more trials, more games? Would Hoggle return with Ludo and Sir Didymus? How long until she could ask him about how she could get home? Would he revel in unkindness, as he so often had? How could she ask him any of this and not get riddles or anger in return? All of these things raced through her mind at the speed of her own heartbeat as they walked down the corridor. She swallowed to calm herself and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. 

     Just what are you planning, Goblin King?

     As she turned her eyes away from him, he spoke again.

     “How are you liking the castle, Sarah?” he asked with a hint of bemusement, smiling down at her. She felt herself shiver at the smooth sound of his voice. Her own thoughts had been so loud, and he had cut right through them.

     “Oh,” Sarah stuttered. “It’s–uhm. It’s very big.”

     He let out a puff of air through his nostrils. “Ah. Yes. Well, that , and hard to keep up with.” He nodded. “As I’m sure you have noticed.”

     Jareth gestured at the ground as they turned a corner. Sarah blinked at a precarious pile of doo-dads and tidbits, dusty and forgotten as they walked by. 

     She wasn’t sure what to say. Did he want her to agree with him? Would that make him angry? She wasn’t sure how to read him in his current mood. So, she decided to hold her tongue and not say anything. She could feel his eyes on her, but she fought the desire to meet his gaze.

     “When you’re up to it, and if it would please you, I think it would be right if you decided how you would like it decorated,” he began, gesturing with a nod of his chin to indicate he was talking about the whole palace. “There are some things that cannot be changed, of course, some furniture that predates even me that must remain. But there’s plenty of room for,” he paused, considering his words, “the female touch.”

     “Oh.” Was all she could say. Sarah couldn’t help but feel her face contort in confusion. When she was up to it? If it would please her? The female what now? 

     This all sounded like he was setting up the rules to a new riddle or game. But, what was this game, exactly? Decorate the house for him? Like some kind of Better Home and Gardens challenge? She wasn’t some mail-order interior designer. She couldn’t just be bossed around. And it was unclear to her why he would want her to do such a thing in the first place.

     But then, she remembered. She remembered their conversation from last night– when she had realized what his intentions were– in so many words, or at least between the lines.

     “I told you in that ballroom. I told you on those steps."

     Sarah blinked. Her chest felt bubbly. Her cheeks were warm. Jareth was in love with her. He wasn’t charting out the rules to some game or riddle. He was explaining what she would do to bide all that time where she would have to stay here with him for–how long did he say? Oh, right. Indefinitely . 

o o o

     “Here we are.” Jareth nudged Sarah gently. The girl looked back at him, face flushed.

     “What?” She asked defensively. “What do you mean ‘here’ ?”

     The Goblin King found her confusion adorable–in the same way he relished the thoughtless obedience of his own goblin court. But with her, it was also different. He liked the way she looked when she was mulling things over, how she took every thought as seriously as the next. Her propensity toward careful consideration would serve her well, he reasoned. It would make for a good queen. He continued to smile at her, but his bemusement softened into something else. She was clearly thinking a thousand miles per minute; he could see it behind her eyes. Perhaps he liked it when she looked flustered. Perhaps she looked her prettiest to him then. He wasn’t sure yet. There was time to figure all that out.

     “This is my wing of the palace. No one is allowed back here,” he paused and watched her carefully before continuing. “Through these doors are my bedroom chambers. But there is also,” he paused again, looking at the ceiling then back to her, “I believe the people of the Above Ground use the word ‘lavatory’?” 

     Sarah raised her eyebrows at him. Taking this as confusion, which it was not, he tried again. Jareth unlocked his arm from hers to speak with his hands.

     “Bathroom? Toilet? Commode?” He spoke, raising his inflection with each word. “I’m all out of synonyms.”

     Sarah backed away from him and quite possibly turned green. She stared at him, wide-eyed, and silent. He couldn’t be serious. Had he planned on joining her? She had no words, only strange half-visions and worries that churned in her mind like rolling storm clouds. Jareth, not noticing this, thoughtlessly plucked a piece of fuzz from his shoulder and cleared his throat. When he met her gaze again, he read her contorted face with the speed at which lightning strikes.

     Dear God , he thought. She looks like she’s one frightful sight away from death. 

     The Goblin King gently raised both his hands in the air as if to indicate surrender.

     “Oh, Sarah. Alone ,” he clarified. He patted down his shirt awkwardly. “I’ll leave you to it. That’s what you were looking for this morning, yes, before the goblins found you? A bathroom?”

     She looked left, then back to him, only losing her greenish pallor a little. Sarah nodded once. He sighed.

     “Right. Well, beyond those doors, you’ll also find a wardrobe. Charmed, of course, so that you may find whatever you want or need.” Jareth ran his hand through his hair, thinking about whether he left anything of importance out of his explanation. The tension was so palpable he could cut out slices from the air and serve it at tea parties. “When you’re done, we’ll have breakfast. And I’ll show you around. Whatever you’d like to do.”

     He said these things a touch more harshly than he had intended, but that was only because he was both a bit more embarrassed than he would like to admit and he knew giving up the morning for her in lieu of his kingly duties would mean extra work into the late hours of the evening. But this, he considered, was a sacrifice worth making. Sarah was back, after all. After years of watching her wrestle with her true feelings, she had finally wished for him to return before her madness could consume her. She was finally ready to confront the truth. 

     But when Jareth studied her face again, he found it still painted with the colors of fear and the lines of anxiety. 

     Jareth frowned.

     “I’m not some kind of monster, Sarah,” he insisted, as if she should know that already. She took a long breath but said nothing. He waited, but he didn’t hear her exhale. Then, after a moment of deliberation, Jareth realized she was holding her breath. For what reason? He wasn’t sure. But somehow, knowing she was doing this felt worse to him than being slapped across the face. 

     Why is she being so difficult , Jareth wondered? After all, he knew her true feelings for him. What good was there to be had in this game of denying them? 

     The Goblin King had watched her for a long time. Years, in fact. But he did this with purpose. He wanted to be sure. He did not want to make these choices lightly–to fall in love with this human girl. He had to go about it the right way. And as any kind of fae or king should be, he was careful. He was patient. He was smart. He took his time deciding. But with her, that took almost no time at all.

     Jareth had carved out what felt like eons observing Sarah in the Above Ground. He wasn’t sure when it had started, but when it did, there was nothing to be done to stop it.  Jareth had listened to her dancing in her costumes as she spoke not just from her stories, but to him. Directly. Passionately. Jareth perched on innumerable tree branches as she cried out to him in the park, as she mouthed her quiet pleas to him in front of her bedroom mirror, and as she sang him her pretty songs. With heartfelt words not from those fairytale books, but of her own making, he listened as she called out: ‘Goblin King, Goblin King, show your face to me. If your love be true, then consider me your love to be’. 

     How much clearer could she have been with him? 

     He recalled her long soliloquies–of which there were many (some, he considered were better than others)– that declared for him her desire to rule alongside him, to know him, his true love, and his kingdom. And then, when he had heard her call upon him to take away Toby, he had been a man of his word, bound by her demands to both keep him and then to set him free. He had done all she’d asked of him and more. And then, when they’d danced–in that dream she’d conjured from her heart–he knew she’d wanted to kiss him. The spell was at work inside of her, after all, so he was with her in those thoughts, feeling them as much as his own breath. He could sense her yearning, how she had loved him. And yet, as much as he knew she wanted to, she decided not to kiss him.

     Why? Jareth didn’t know. But he was nearing the end of his rope as to what to do about it. It both vexed him and enticed him. There had been many maidens over the centuries who had offered up their children to him, but Jareth had never heard one before who had offered up their heart. 

     Jareth winced at it all as he looked at the girl before him. This wasn’t going well, Jareth realized. He hadn’t given how he would go about introducing her to life in the Underground enough thought. He would have to try something else. 

     She stared back at him with wide, green eyes that shimmered like untouchable emeralds. It made him want to be a better man. With this in mind, Jareth took a calm step toward the door to open it, and halted as she backed away from him. The Goblin King sighed.

     “Dear God, Sarah. I’m not going to hurt you.” That would clearly do no good to anyone , he considered adding but didn’t. In part, because he didn’t know how to reconcile his threat to throw her into an oubliette from the first time they had met or his most current threat about the bog from yesterday. He didn’t mean them, did he? No. Sort of? It was all very confusing. So instead of responding, he huffed impatiently while opening the doors. He was aware his tone wasn’t helping his case, but none of this came easily to him. Love, kindness, all of it. When the doors were open. He gestured for her to walk inside. “The room you’re looking for is right through those doors. I’ll be here when you’re done.” 

     Sarah inspected the doorway silently before taking a step forward. With her hands on her hips, she coyly snuck a glance at him over her shoulder.

     “So, no riddle?” Sarah asked, pointing at the door. Suddenly, for reasons he didn’t fully understand, the Goblin King felt lighter. He could have sworn she was almost smiling. Jareth couldn’t help but let out one airy, chuckle.

     “Not unless you want one,” he replied. She rolled her eyes. 

     “Definitely not,” she said.

     “Then go straight in,” he told her. This stirred a fire in him, to see her playful like that. He couldn’t help but watch as she turned around and made her way, like a cautious doe, into the door where he had pointed.

o o o 

     Sarah would have to make this quick. Once the door was securely shut behind her, she let the smile fall from her lips. It was for him– the smile–wasn’t it? With trembling hands, the Champion of the Labyrinth pulled the lock shut.

     “Not today, Satan.” Sarah pointed at the wall as if it was the Goblin King himself. She had said these words not because they had been the first in her mind, but because it had felt like the thing she ought to say. So she had said them. And when that didn’t make her feel better, she quietly backed away from the door. And when that didn’t help, Sarah let out a shaky breath; her head felt like the world was spinning and her heart was racing out of her chest. Jareth was in love with her, alright. He was in love with her and he had no plans on letting her leave. 

     That should make her disgusted enough to run. But all Sarah could do was stand there. So she did. For no more than twenty seconds, she stood there, staring at the door, thinking about that. Thinking about Jareth loving her. After all this time. Pining after her. For years. Who in the hell does something like that? It made her shiver. I mean, was any of this even real? She touched her lips. What would that even look like? Sarah closed her eyes and held her face, imagining his arms around her again, the way that his voice had sounded when he–

     No , Sarah compelled herself into submission, no that’s not a good way to think . She felt the hairs stand at attention on her arms as she opened her eyes. Normal girls would not be having such thoughts. Normal girls would be throwing themselves out the window given this golden opportunity of a time without their captors. That’s what good girls would do, so that’s what she should do. Sarah glanced at one of the windows, but quickly rationalized that she could die from a fall at this height, so she dismissed the idea. It was a fast dismissal. Not even a one-second thought.

     Wait. 

     Did she dismiss the idea because it was a bad idea, or did she dismiss the idea because she didn’t want—?

     No, Sarah shook her head. No. I shouldn’t think that way. It’s just not possible. It’s impossible because it’s wrong to love men like him , she assured herself. It’s especially wrong to love men like this under such circumstances . But, what else was there to do? Sarah pressed her memory.

     If you’re ever in a bad situation with a guy where you think he might do something fishy, her mother had once said to her in some vague, euphemistic way, make sure you have something sharp. After another sip from her trembling martini glass she had added with a mumble, and don’t you eve–rrrrr hold back. Go right for the jugular, Sarah. It was almost incoherent, but of course, Sarah understood. Time with her mom was always time well spent. In one way or another. Right now, it happened to be paying off.

     Something sharp? Sarah tilted her head. 

     “There’s got to be a mirror in here somewhere. Come on legs,” she patted her thighs for encouragement. She had almost forgotten she needed to pee. 

     Sarah had a plan. Not the best plan in the world, but a good plan. A plan that would make her mother proud. 

     The girl’s eyes scanned the space from wall to perfect wall. Not a stone was out of place, but sure enough, on the far edge of the room, beside a bathtub Sarah couldn’t bear to look at let alone think about, there it was: a full-size mirror about the size of a body. 

     Bingo , she smiled darkly. Now, if she wasn’t so worried about taking too much time, she might have stopped to notice how beautiful it was here, how much she might have liked it in another life. But she was busy.

     The stained glass windows colored the room with vibrant streaks of blues and reds; deep violet hues emerged in its corners where the colors overlapped. The trees outside swayed in their breeze. It should have been peaceful. But strangely, all Sarah could feel was strung out.

     When she walked over to the mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself so unfamiliar she had to look again. Sarah’s face was awash in the brightest cut of crimson. She stared at it. 

     She had been expecting purple. But when she saw red, it was odd because it felt like she was looking at someone other than herself. But there she was without a doubt. It was hard to explain. 

     Sarah looked down at her hands. No, she shook her head, that’s not a good idea. Using her hands to break the glass wouldn’t be wise. It would leave her with cuts and make far too much noise. So she turned around in circles to find something better than her fists to use. 

     It caught her eye with a glint of gold. The girl blinked to make sure it was what she thought it was before she made up her mind to pluck it off the marble counter: a heavy metal hairbrush. And when she held it, she studied its ornate grooves and design like she was memorizing a new map in a maze. But it wasn’t anything special. No face. No magic. No voice. It was just a hairbrush.

     A strange sensation washed over her then. This thing, it was…so human.

      It was beautiful and regal, but otherwise inescapably normal. She couldn’t help but imagine Jareth standing in the mirror, doing the things every human being had to do to start their day. Perhaps in a towel. Sarah turned it over and studied the bristles. Then, she glanced at the sink, with its golden basin and ornate cabinetry, and saw him there. Doing normal things.

     He must wash his face, arrange his hair, and shave, among other things, Sarah reasoned. He must do these things every day like she does. She let her eyes wander over the many bottles of perfume, the bars of soap, the hand towels sewn with golden stitching. As clear as day, these were all for one man. All these tools a man must use to do ordinary, human things. Day in, day out. 

     Alone . 

     This word struck her like a clock chiming on the hour, like a bell one couldn’t unring. She glanced down at the hair brush. Sarah knew it now. Jareth was alone here, and he had been for a very long time. For proof, Sarah noted how there wasn’t a hint of another person, nor a history of such a thing, to be found anywhere. One robe, one medieval looking toothbrush, one cup. Even more damning was the decor. Sarah looked back at the door that led to Jareth’s barely tidy bedroom. No woman in her right mind would have ever created it in such a state . Naturally, the next question came: how long had he gone one like this , she wondered? She imagined what that must be like. No father, no mother, no Irene, no Toby. No school. No friends that she could tell. No high school dances or crushes or football games. Just this castle and this ramshackle empire. A misty, hollow vision that was so uncomfortable came over her, so she pushed it away. At this, Sarah sighed, and realized the air smelled of birch and vanilla–of aftershave and cologne.

     No longer was the Goblin King some eerie, phantasmagoric icon. He was no God. He was no ghost. It was impossible to go on thinking that way. Not for Sarah. Within her, it felt like something was unlatching, opening itself up like a broken lock. Jareth was majestic, certainly. But one look at a toothbrush and perfume bottles and—

     A beat of silence. Sarah turned her full attention to the sink again.

     “ Shave ,” Sarah repeated this word. If he shaves, then he’s got to have a razor. And probably not like one of those Gillette safety ones either. This isn’t exactly Chicago in 1986. Sarah set the hairbrush down and scanned the countertop. Without much effort, she found it.

     She flicked it open and studied its sharp edges, how it reflected her face in the warm, reddish blue light. All she could see in it were her own warped eyes. The idea of stabbing frightened her, so she furrowed her brow and folded it back into place. She stood there, holding the blade in her folded hands.

     It felt wrong to take it. But it felt wrong to leave it there. Leaving the razor there meant accepting that this was OK, that it was acceptable for Goblin Kings to fall in love with human girls. 

     Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat and trembled as she decided what to do. 

Chapter Text

Rule 10: Be A True Friend

     Right when all of this was happening, somewhere in the outskirts of the Goblin City, there was a little dwarf who was sitting in a tavern, speaking in hushed tones to all those weary souls who were awake enough to listen. Over the grumblings of drunkards and outbursts of the fiendish, he spoke in such a way, with so much passion and yet so quietly, that those who were there had to lean in to hear him right. And though what he was saying could not be heard from the streets, it did travel there. 

     It was gossip. Or, at least, that’s how it started. According to the rumor, there was–right this very minute– a lady trapped in King Jareth’s castle. Now normally, the goblin folk wouldn’t give a single hoot about such properties because, you see, only noblemen rescue princesses from castles, and goblins were not exactly known for being the noblest of men. However, there was a catch in this case–an exception–so to speak, according to the dwarf. From under his cloak, he murmured.

     “This ain’t no regular lady. This is Lady Serah Soufflé, queen of pastries. And he’s keeping her there because she promised the whole kingdom cake. But King Jareth, in his greed and thinking there ain’t enough to go around, has decided to keep her locked up for himself instead.”

     “To keep the cake for himself?” Someone would ask. (This was everyone’s first question). To this, the little man would nod beneath his cloak and say:

     “Exactly.”

      The dwarf didn’t have to do anything other than that. It was easy, causing an uprising. He would simply offer up the cakes he had smuggled out from Jareth’s kitchen to the company of the room, and they would gobble it down as proof of this rumor’s truth. And just like that, Hoggle would leave, crumbs trembling like rubble in his wake. He’d go tavern by tavern, lie by lie, the details winding themselves like tips of a hair’s split end, until the whole Goblin City knew the story about how their king had taken their snacks and turned on them. 

Chapter Text

Rule 12: Be A Good Listener

     Jareth was probably wondering what was taking her so long. 

     But she had her reasons. Sarah had taken more than a few minutes than she had expected to finish getting ready, but that’s because there were so many buttons on her new clothes and because she couldn’t bring herself to actually bathe in his tub. Instead, she chose to pat herself down with a series of damp, clean washcloths. It took longer, but the idea of a bath was too strange. Too foreign. Too far from what was acceptable. So she was taking forever. But that’s what you get for trying to lie to yourself. Buckets of wasted time.

     Sarah found, much to her chagrin, that he was right: the closet had just what she needed, which happened to be a forest green, mid-length travel dress made of silk with slim pants to match. It was kimono-like, and at the same time, elvish. For shoes, she found an elegant pair of matching house ballet-style slippers. It felt nice to be out of her sweaty, oversized excuse for a nightgown. And when all was said and done, she took in her image in the mirror. 

     “Gosh.”

     Sarah blinked at that dubious reflection. Who was that lady? It certainly wasn’t Sarah. But then again, it had to have been because who else could it be? Without the help of makeup or a blow dryer, Sarah no longer looked like a disheveled, sleep-deprived mess. Her hair was half up and half down, but it curtained her face with elegance. And her skin was glowing. There must have been magic in that tap water because she now bore the apt reflection of the title, Champion to the Labyrinth . 

     The girl turned to the side, studying how the fabric hugged her in all the right places. She didn’t look boxy, nor did she look fat. It was just the right amount of pull in the waist and give in the hips. How did he find this? Why didn’t she look this pretty in the Aboveground?

     Sarah winced, realizing he must have selected the outfit himself, perhaps dutifully. Behind her eyes, Sarah imagined him comparing fabrics and stitchwork, smiling excitedly before her arrival. He had planned this–down to the very last detail. And that was just wicked weird. 

     “Oh my gosh. He’s insane,” she said, only partially meaning it as she pressed down the fabric over her midsection to smoothe it. How embarrassing it felt to let someone else dress you, she considered, like you were some kind of China doll in a playset. But then again, as she studied her reflection and turned the other way, he hadn’t done nearly that bad of a job of choosing at all. It was, in other words, confusing . 

     “Sarah?” His muffled voice startled her. She flinched and let out a small, surprised gasp. What was he? Some kind of pervert? Was he trying to come in when she was naked? She wasn’t naked, obviously, but it was still somehow a concern nonetheless. Sarah stared at the door and saw the shadow of his form beneath the frame. 

     “D-Don’t!” She stuttered, pressing one of her hands to the door knob as if she could stop the Goblin King from entering any room on the account of her own hand strength. Sarah was deep in the business of denial. 

     She could hear him chuckle once through the door. “Oh, Sarah, fear not,” he said, somewhat in jest, somewhat in earnest. She could imagine him out there, arms crossed. Content to wait. A smile across his lips. She shivered as she thought about his mouth. That damn near perfect mouth. “I was just coming to make sure you didn’t fall in, or something like that.” 

     Something like that? Is that his idea of a joke? Sarah clutched the razor in her other hand, almost forgetting she had been holding it.

     Get yourself together, Sarah. I mean, what are you planning to do here? Stab this magic man and hope for the best? Really? That sounds like a great plan. You’re definitely getting into Princeton.

     She was scolding herself inwardly as she imagined his throat, her hands on it– then the way he smelled–the way they had danced— and, oh! Damnit. Not again. Sarah shook her head. This was crazy. Absolutely ridiculous. She was no murderer. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave the razor either because she also wasn’t a coward. Sarah awkwardly folded it up and stashed it in her pocket like a child hiding forbidden sweets. 

     It took all the courage she could muster to pull open the bathroom door. Of course, he was standing there, leaning against the frame as the steam cleared around them, smiling like she thought he’d be. And it was no longer deniable to her; she had to admit it: he was fiendishly handsome. There might as well have been saxophone playing a sensual solo in the foreground. At least then this would be funny.

     “As you can see, I didn’t fall in,” she asserted, matter-of-factly, gesturing at herself.

     “Oh.” He said pleasantly. “You didn’t.”

     It was disarming when he said things like that. Mostly because he wasn’t asking a question, making a joke, or posing anything at all that she could gather. It made Sarah wonder about things. Like, what was he doing then?

     In any case, Sarah crossed her arms at him. She didn’t know how to feel about it, him looking at her like that. But then again, she didn’t know if she wanted to think about how she should feel about it. Maybe she could just feel what she felt without worry of it being wrong. At the very least, she realized that she should, probably, not look so unhappy to see him if she didn’t want him to worry about her plans to do whatever she was planning to do with that razor. 

     “Cat got your tongue?” He asked coyly. Jareth gestured at her with a circular wave of his wrist, like he was conjuring ideas from his mind with the motion. “Perhaps I should say something, then?”

     Jareth was waiting for her, so she nodded, a bit curious as to where this was going but also equally unsure of how to stop it. His eyes softened at her permission nonetheless.

     “Those clothes become you, Sarah.” He paused, assessing her reaction. She wasn’t sure what he found, but Jareth continued. “I’ve never had the chance to tell you properly. But it goes without saying that you are not an ordinary girl, neither in your ability to beat my Labyrinth nor in your looks.”

     Oh, damnit again. 

     Sarah felt her face flash with warmth and then with surprise. She had given away that she was flustered by him.

     It was obvious that he had really meant every word of it, too. From the softness of his eyes to his relaxed posture—no trace of anger from their fight yesterday remained. There was a plainness about him now. A transparency. 

     “Oh, uhm. Thank you,” Sarah replied, looking at the floor then back to him. She fought the urge to tell him he was also handsome in return. It just wasn’t something you should tell a man, was it? Especially right now? And, wasn’t she trying to stay mad at him?

     Sarah decided on a small, polite smile. It was a bit strained, so she rolled her lips to neutralize her expression. Jareth watched her reaction with a cocked eyebrow, indicating to Sarah that man didn’t miss a thing. She could see it in his smug expression and the way he puffed air from his nose that he was very much aware of how he made her feel, which was flustered and confused, to be clear. 

     “You’re welcome,” he told her warmly. “I’d pay you many more if you’d like to have them.”

     “Pay me what?” She asked, innocently, albeit a bit annoyed.

     “Compliments.”  

     Sarah blushed again. “Oh.” She was always blushing.

     With a contented look, he tilted his head from one side to the other, like he was listening to a song she couldn’t hear. Then, after a pause he added, “Isn’t this nice?” His tone was pleasant. She waited a moment for him to elaborate. But he didn’t.

     “What do you mean?” She asked.

     “ This ,” the Goblin King gestured at the small amount of space between them. “You, me. Just talking. Using our words, rather than our fists. I happen to like it quite a lot. Don’t you?”

     Damnit three times over.

     “Jareth, I—,” she stopped. Sarah could get no further.

     Her heart was in her throat. But why? Why couldn’t she just have normal thoughts for once? 

     No , she wanted to say. No . Normal girls don’t tell their kidnappers how nice it is to talk with them . But, for some reason, she couldn’t say it. Her lips wouldn’t part. Her voice wouldn’t come out. So instead, Sarah attempted the impossible task of trying to organize her face, and when that didn’t work as well as she had hoped, she looked past the Goblin King, into the bedroom that she had stormed past earlier. She knew she would have to say something soon. But what? And while she deliberated, he waited. But she knew his patience wouldn’t last forever. It never did.

     Her eyes rested on his bed, which was made up, but only barely, with dark navy sheets. It had a canopy over the top, shrouding it partially from her view. Most obviously of all, it was fancy and nothing like her childish bedroom back at home. Would that be her fate? That bed? Those sheets? Entangled up in him? 

     This thought made Sarah want to do two things. First, to scream like girls who say ‘Bloody Mary’ in the mirror at slumber parties. And second, to shake him. Why? She didn’t know. But it sure felt like these things might help.

     Sarah knew she couldn’t be silent for much longer, so she searched beyond the bed, to the boxy chests and a large, wooden wardrobe–hoping to make conversation by changing the subject. What kind of things did he keep, she wondered? Did he only wear boots? Did he hate real pants? Did he have boxes of old letters and cards like she did? Did he have hobbies? Talents? Interests? What if she liked them? What if she didn’t? What if they had nothing at all in common? But what if they did? There was so much she didn’t know. How could she love a man she didn’t know? 

     She was torn. And, she had run out of time to think.

     “Sarah .. .” His tone inclined at the end of her name, latent with a subtle warning. Jareth shifted away from the wall and stood up straight, towering over her. Keenly, Sarah stared at Jareth with a hesitant expression while he searched her face. A trace of something less-than-happy raced across his features, but it neutralized as soon as it came, fading into his gray eyes. “Stop wandering. Come back to me.”

     He touched her arm with two of his fingers, and just like that, her mind went quiet. How did he do that?

     “Let’s get some air,” he told her. “How does that sound?”

     Sarah, finding no hint of malice in his voice, nodded. Air sounded nice. Anything but that bathroom sounded nice.

     Then, as smoothly as floating, he led her out from the bathroom and toward double stained glass doors, which he opened to reveal a broad, rounded balcony encircled in limestone pillars. They must have been up at least three stories, and the wind was gentle, but the space was otherwise silent. Out there in the mid morning air, on his balcony, it sounded like there was an ocean some distance away. It was peaceful. Yes, that shushing lull in the distance– it must be water. Sarah closed her eyes to hear it. When she opened them again, she took in the image of the space.

     The terrace looked out over a vast swath of maze, browning already as though fall was on the way. Did the Labyrinth have seasons? Apparently it did. 

     As they approached the edge, Sarah and Jareth could see a throng of young goblins howling in the distance. They were picking up old leaves and throwing them at each other, taking great pleasure in hitting each other’s faces in the process. Sarah heard them giggling, like children, from where she stood. In an odd sense, she envied them. They wouldn’t have to decide what to do with precarious suitors, nor would they have to worry about finding their way home from a mysterious, magical land. All they needed to do was play with their leaves and with each other. Goblins, in this way, never really had to grow up.

     While Sarah was thinking about this, she became aware of Jareth’s hand on her back, making small circles. She looked up at him when she noticed, though she didn’t ask him to stop. It was calming. Even if she didn’t want to admit it.

     “So, Sarah,” Jareth began again, leaning down to the side to intimately murmur in her ear. It was strange because no one was around to require the need for whispering.  “Where do you go?”

     “What?” She was confused. But she also noted that Jareth was close enough to kiss. His cheek was next to hers, almost touching. She was completely red-faced, once again. 

     “In your head. Sometimes you just–” Jareth paused briefly to mimic the gesture of walking with his index and middle finger before her eyes. “You just wander right off. Where are you going when you do that?”

     Sarah raised an eyebrow. Did he really want to know? 

     “I guess I’m just…thinking,” Sarah explained. There was a growing itch to tell him to stop touching her, because she thought that should be the thing a girl in her position would do. But maybe…maybe in just one more second. 

     “Ah. Thinking,” Jareth considered her words while rising to his full standing height again. “The very thing that begets our dreams. I may be a master of those, but I’m no mind reader, not really. For you, though, I’d like to listen. What do you think about, Sarah?” 

     Sarah furrowed her brow. “You…you want to listen to me talk about my thoughts?”

     “Is that so hard to believe?” He asked.

     She searched him for a hint of jest and found none. He just kept making circles on her back with the palm of his hand. Waiting.

     Well, no one had ever asked her that before, she reasoned. It was always ‘stop daydreaming, Sarah’ or ‘stop being so self-centered and watch Toby for us now’ or ‘get your head out of the clouds and do your homework, Ms. Williams’. It was never ‘tell me what you’re thinking, Sarah, because I want to know’. 

     This was new. This was new and it was…nice.

     Jareth glanced down at her without moving his chin, and raised an impatient eyebrow.

     “So?” he added. “Where do you go in your mind, Sarah Williams?”

      Sarah returned her eyes to the maze. It was weird when he said her full name like that. She didn’t hate it, though.

     “Well…right now, I guess I’m trying to figure out what your plans are. For me. And how to go home–,” Sarah inhaled sharply, aware that maybe she shouldn’t have said that, and glanced up at him. Jareth was still staring into the horizon. He seemed stern, but he was still making little motions on her lower back. The gesture calmed her, as though he couldn’t possibly be upset with her so long as he was making those circles. She continued. “I was thinking about what’s going to happen to me here. It seems like you don’t want me to go home. And you made it more than clear what your feelings are….” She trailed off, wanting to pick her words carefully. “But if you must know, my thoughts are all over the place. In the bathroom just now, I was looking at your room wondering about whether or not we have anything in common.” 

     “Oh?” Jareth blurted, sounding as equally intrigued as he was surprised. There was a hint of relief in it, too. “That’s all?” 

     She could feel his eyes on her. She tried to ignore them so she could think clearly.

     “Uhhm…Well….” she began, “Yes. If you love me, then, you must be expecting me to love you back. But…”

     "But?” Jareth asked.

     “What does that even mean?” Sarah sounded exasperated. “What does that mean, specifically , to you?” 

     Jareth smiled and briefly stopped making circles on her back, then promptly continued again. They looked at each other during the transition and Sarah was aware she looked as vulnerable as she felt.

     “Well,” Jareth started with a brief clearing of his throat. “In theory, we would rule this Labyrinth and the Goblin City alongside each other. Me, as king. You, as queen.” Jareth watched her face, now neutral in his expression, as if he were trying to look for something in particular. His eyes softened in their final calculation. “Ideally, in addition to your title as queen, you’d rule alongside me as my wife.”

     Like lightning, a slew of emotions darted over Sarah’s face. Her lips parted but no words came out as images of wedding bells and cake as well as parts of Jareth, darted behind her eyes. Everything in her felt numb, tingly, and hot. She had to draw a shaky breath as she tried to think.

     “Your…” She hesitated. “Wife?”

     When Sarah imagined what a marriage proposal might look like in her future, this sort of thing had never come to mind. Where was the romance? The violin music? The ambiance? He wasn’t exactly down on one knee. And also– this felt important —didn’t they, like, barely know each other? 

     “Do you wish to deny your feelings, Sarah?” Jareth asked, somewhat firmly. It pulled her out of her thoughts, but Sarah couldn’t look at him, so he continued. “I’ve read your stories about that ballroom. You’ve written countless iterations since you left me. More than that, I’ve listened to you cry out for me at night in your dreams. Clearly, being in the Aboveground could not sever this bond we share. There is no Toby to worry about this time. There is no battle between us. So, why now, when everything is as it should be, do you deny me?”

     Her heart was racing. She stammered.

     “Because I– I barely know you, Jareth. I mean, do you even know me ?”

     Sarah placed her hands on her chest like a reflex. In response, Jareth scoffed, perhaps in an attempt to hide another feeling, or to look confident. But the timing was off, and it came out as nervousness.

     “Of course I know you, Sarah. Your favorite thing to do is daydream or practice your lines in your costumes. And when you’re not doing that, you’re either reading those strange magazines that you keep hidden in a box under your bed, or you’re watching what they call ‘television’ with Toby. When you’re not doing that, you’re at that dreadful school or something called ‘the mall’ with that Julie friend of yours.”

     Sarah hated how true all of this was, but she felt the need to hold her ground. She wasn’t all Cosmopolitan Magazine and Scooby Doo Reruns, was she?

     “Well, sure. But you only know that because…” She didn’t want to use the word ‘stalk’ so she tried something else, “Because you’ve watched me. But, I’m asking you something different. Do you know my favorite song? How to cheer me up on a bad day? My favorite food? Do you even know why I like acting?”

     Jareth’s face contorted. “I’m assuming if these are important things, then you’ll tell me. And I, you.” He paused. “Some we might just find out along the way. Though, I think your favorite food is pizza. It’s all you order in the cafeteria.” Jareth touched his chin as if thinking deeply. 

     “You watch me when I’m at school !?” Sarah was outraged in a new way, as if his overseeing her in class was more invasive somehow than at any other time. She remembered the owl in the window with a sudden shudder and felt herself wince at the realization. He had been there. He had been watching. The whole time! Sarah glared at him with daggers in her eyes, to which Jareth raised his hands defensively.

     “When have you not been watching?” She sounded dark, perhaps a bit terrifying. 

     “Now, now. No need to be upset. Aboveground culture is rather confusing to me. Maybe you’ll teach me about this pizza culture if it means so much to you.” He flashed her a timid smile which, Sarah thought, he must hope was charming. It wasn’t.

     “But you’re supposed to know all about people before you fall in love with them! And especially before you marry them!” Sarah argued. “You need to be close to people you love. You need to, like, really know them. Or, else they’ll–Well…Oh! Nevermind.” 

     Her hands were in the air.

     “Or else they’ll what ?” Jareth was immediately curious. He was still rubbing her back, perhaps without thinking about it. Sarah scrunched her shoulders in a silent gesture for him to stop. With a sigh, Jareth lifted his hand away.

     “Sarah–” he started sternly, but she interrupted him.

     “And more than that, I don’t know why you even love me in the first place,” she was talking frantically with her hands. “I understand why you came the first time. It was my fault trying to give away Toby but now –”

     “ Sarah .”  His tone was serious, and the air hummed with his magic. It whirred around like glitter in the wind, chilling the temperature a degree or two. In the blink of an eye, she felt him take hold of both her shoulders. He wanted her full attention.

     “Tell me what you think I’m going to do if I don’t, what ? Know what you like to eat? Tell me now. Make it clear to me.” 

     Sarah backed away from him, unsure if she wanted to be touched. The magic in her ears was making her lightheaded. She didn’t want to look at him still, so she faced the door and kept her back to him to clear her mind.

     What was she afraid of? It didn’t take long to put it to words.

     “What if you get sick of me?” She whispered, her voice as small as a mouse. “What if you find out we have nothing in common and that I really am just a boring human girl and you decide you don’t like me? What then , Jareth? Sure, I can beat the Labyrinth. But I’m no princess or queen. I don’t know anything about being…whatever this is. And I’m sure there’s been others.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Other women…Who are more suited to this sort of thing. So why me? And what happens to me when I get old? What if–”

     “Stop,” he commanded. 

     She halted when she realized Jareth was right in front of her again. His face was wildly distraught. Once again, he took her by the shoulders, and his hands were warm beneath the gloves.

     “What in God's name put it in your mind that I would leave you?” He demanded. “And, you won’t get old, not down here, if that’s what you’re worried about. But, who said anything about someone else? Sarah there is no one else.”

     She felt her face contort as she fought a cry. She wasn’t sure if it was relief or anguish yet. Could it be both?

     “Please, don’t coddle me. I’m not a child,” she sniffled. “You’re a King. I don’t even know how old you are. Or if you’ve… But you don’t look like, like–” 

     Sarah was at a loss for words. What was she trying to say? ‘ You don’t look like a virgin because you’re older than me ?’ or ‘ Aren’t all kings sexually promiscuous? ’ These things didn’t feel polite to assume, but they were, in fact, exactly what she was trying to say. 

     Jareth squeezed her shoulders to gather back her attention. “Look at me,” he said gravely. Sarah did, but she was terribly embarrassed by her tears. “I will not coddle you,” he offered. Then, with another squeeze of her shoulders, Jareth continued. “There are no other women. Now, why do you think I’d betray you?”

     “But, there must have been,” Sarah insisted meekly then paused. “And they’re gone now.”

     “Sarah, I would never get rid of you. Ever.” His eyes were serious. “Alright?”

     She looked left, then right, wanting to believe him.

     “But there were others, then. Before me?” she pressed. Jareth watched her teary gaze, sighed, and let go of her shoulders. Then, he rubbed the space between his eyes. Sarah felt his silence was filled with anxious hesitation.

     “There have been… what in your world might be called, concubines? When I was a younger man? Not now. Never again. I promise you that. But there have never been others like you, Sarah, and there hasn’t been anyone in a very long time.” 

     It was as she feared. Perhaps worse. She felt herself growing faint.

     “How long?” Sarah’s voice was suddenly insistent. “How long ago?” 

     He raised his eyebrows at her, clearly showing he had not expected these sorts of questions so quickly. She could see in the way his mouth was frowning and how his brow was furrowing that this was making him very uncomfortable. Regret was all over him, in one way or another. But Sarah needed to know, didn’t she?

      “Don’t you think I have a right to know things like how old you are or whether you’ve had other relationships, if your intentions are to marry me?”

Jareth looked down then back to her.

     “Yes,” he conceded in a low whisper. 

     “So?” She pressed him. Jareth swallowed.

     “Fair enough. I’ll start at the beginning of your questions. I was born in the Aboveground sometime in the eighteenth century. That is all I know regarding my age,” Jareth explained slowly.

     Sarah glowered, mentally recalling that the ‘eighteenth century’ meant the seventeen hundreds from her honors world history class. Then, with a wrinkled nose, she scrutinized how many years were left when one subtracted 1700 from 1988.

     About two hundred and eighty-eight? Yes, that math checked out. 

     “You’re almost three hundred years old?” Sarah was mortified for some reason. She knew he was older than her, of course, but hundreds of years older? Her eighteen to his two hundred and eighty-eight? Sarah studied Jareth’s face for signs of truth. He didn’t look like he could be in his twenties. Maybe thirties? It was all very hard to tell with him. Regardless, Jareth’s eyes revealed that Sarah’s surprise was insulting to him.

     “Well, time doesn’t work the same down here,” he rationalized. It was a poor excuse, but it was the only one he had. Sarah blinked at his discomfort. Did she…feel bad for making him uncomfortable? Maybe. Maybe not.

     “Well,” she whispered, not really agreeing with anything at all. “What about the others? The women? Who were they?” Her voice was slightly pointed.

     Jareth looked left, then right. He met her gaze and with an acutely apologetic stare. 

     “That is a short story. One that is already, thankfully, over .” He watched her, clearly hoping she would be satisfied with this. She wasn’t.

     “How many?” Sarah demanded. Jareth sighed and ran his hand through his mane of air. He clicked his tongue once, clearly thinking. Perhaps counting.

     “Several? Nameless. From a lifetime ago, Sarah.”

     Sarah was mortified. How could she possibly compare to–what? Countless fae women? It wasn’t like she had any basis of comparison! Sarah closed her eyes and pressed back the thought. When she opened them, she was shaking.

     All of this felt like broken glass against her spirit. She couldn’t hide it from her face.

     “Don’t look at me like that,” he tried. “Please.”

     Sarah rubbed her eyes and turned her face away from him as she wiped away her tears. The next question fell out of her.

     “Did you love them?” She was crying. There was no stopping it now.

     “No,” he replied quickly. “No, Sarah. Fae do not often feel things like love. Lust? Yes. But since taking over this place,” Jareth gestured at the palace, “Keeping the lights on has required my full attention. I do not have time for things like that any longer, and…”

     That had done it. It didn’t matter what he was saying now. Sarah had broken out into a sobbing fit. Jareth made some kind of disgruntled, terrified noise as a result.

     “Oh, Sarah, come now. Stop this.” He took her by the shoulders for the third time. “Listen to me. I did not love them. I was simply alone . For centuries that have felt like eons!” His hands moved to her face. He was manic. “And so, I tried to fill that emptiness. With anything. Power. Women. Money. But it didn’t take very long to figure out that it doesn’t work like that. If I could take it all back now, I would. Please, listen to me.”

     “You don’t feel love?!?” She was completely undone. Jareth, clearly exasperated, pulled her to him, as if to protect her from the outside world, though it was his own self he knew that plagued her.

     “No–Sarah! That’s not what I…” He spoke over her muffled crying. “Of course I can. It’s just…hard. But not when it comes to you, Sarah. Loving you is easy.” 

     When it came to her? It was easy?

     Sure , Sarah thought. What a nice way to put it. He sure likes to sell a good story, with his fancy words and his romantic gestures and serpent’s tongue, but Sarah couldn’t be fooled. No. She knew all too well that people could say things with their mouths and uproot themselves from her life with their next breath. Words were just words at the end of the day. They had no power other than what people gave them. And where were his receipts? Child stealing and wife entrapment? She couldn’t let herself be fooled.

     Jareth tightened his arms around her, but she pushed herself away from him.

     “Get off!” She mumbled. “Stop it! You can drop this stupid act!”

     He released her. And though she wanted to yell, she had no words. All Sarah could do was pant to catch her breath.

     “Act? For God’s sake. What can I do to make you understand?” There was true desperation in his voice. “I have lived longer than eighteen human years, Sarah. It might be hard for you to understand just how long a few centuries alone can feel. How that can chew on your bones, making your very soul tired. But in that time, yes, I have made many mistakes. However, you are not one of them.” Jareth paused and ran his hand through his hair with haste. “Please try to understand my confusion. You say I lie, I don’t. You ask for me, I come. When I do, you defy me and deny me. But why? To me, it seems you’re afraid I’ll betray you. But again, why ? Who has taught you to expect such betrayal, Sarah?”

     Sarah stiffened. Flashes of ideas passed in her mind, of him alone for hundreds of years with only goblins for company. It ate at her. Then, she remembered how Linda had dropped her off at her dad’s house six years ago and never looked back, how those years had eaten at her, too. Alone in her room. In this way, she understood him. In this way, they were the same. Her tone was still harsh.

     “Haven’t you like, watched every minute of my life or something? Shouldn’t you already know? Or do you also just like ‘asking questions you already know the answers to’?”

     She used her fingers for mocking air quotes and mimicked his accent. Jareth tilted his head, almost amused, but there was a stronger sense of frustration in his eyes. 

     “I’m not omnipotent.” Jareth rested his hands on his sides. “I met you when you called upon me. Not before. So I only know what I’ve seen and what you’ve told me. And like I said earlier, I don’t read minds. So you need to tell me.” He gestured at her. “What kind of man has done this to you? Perhaps I’ll take care of him myself, if it would please you.”

     Sarah’s face screwed up as she tried to understand his words. They felt enigmatic to her—at first.

     “Oh.” Sarah sounded surprised. “What? No, I–it wasn’t a man.”

     He would do that , Sarah wondered? For her ? 

     “You’ve never courted?” Jareth was now the one who sounded shocked. 

     She retorted, a bit sore. “Is that a problem?”

     “No, no of course not. I’m just... I did not expect...” 

     Sarah crossed her arms and closed her eyes. “What? That I didn’t sleep around?” 

     It wasn’t usually a point of pride that she didn’t date in high school, but now, it felt like a weapon. The only one she had. And yet, if her eyes were open, she might have seen Jareth’s expression soften. But her eyes were closed, so she didn’t. 

     “I shouldn’t have assumed. If not a man, then…” Jareth’s voice wandered off. Sarah peeked open an eye to study him. “Who?” He asked. “I want to know. I want to understand.”

     He sounded so sincere. Sarah opened her eyes and found he was.

     “You actually care?” She inquired a final time. 

     “Sarah, my little spitfire,” Jareth closed the distance between them again. “For the love of God, yes .”

     Sarah studied him. He was on the edge of anger. But, even if she wanted to be angry in response, with a fuller look at him, she found that she simply couldn’t be.

     In the roundness of his eyes, Sarah saw that it was she who held him fully in her gaze, and not the other way around. And somehow, she knew she could have done anything to him then. Anything she wanted at all. Cruel, kind. It mattered little. And she knew it. If it was her will that he might prove his love to her, she could ask for the gardens to be made from chocolate, or for the walls to be painted with mud, and he would probably say yes. He might obliterate the oubliettes in her honor, or fill in the Bog of Eternal Stench with cedar chips. Where had anyone ever held her in such high regard before? Has anyone? Not that she could recall. In his eyes was the kind of desperate hunger one only sees in the eyes of an animal that’s been starved, the kind of longing one sees in the dusky face of a soldier as they return home from war. And to Jareth, Sarah was the manna of his soul, the hearth of his entire mind. She was all. She was everything.

     It was at this quiet moment that a small, still voice from within her whispered: it is nice, being someone’s everything, even if only for this one, fleeting second. It was enough to get her to drop her jadedness. 

     “Ok,” she nodded, then drew a breath. “Ok.”

     Jareth watched her hungrily. Sarah stared at his sickle shaped necklace as she spoke.

     “Linda,” Sarah began. “My….Mom. She’s really famous. Do you know what that means?” Sarah studied Jareth’s eyes for understanding. He was unemotional, but watching her intensely. 

     “I think so,” Jareth replied with a level voice. “In the Aboveground, it’s sort of like royalty. Yes?” 

     “Kind of,” Sarah shrugged, returning her eyes to his necklace. “She’s an actress. She performs in plays and movies and stuff.”

     Jareth nodded once, the cogs behind his eyes moving. “I see.” 

     “Well, that’s what she is. A movie star. And one day, she met someone named Jeremy, who I guess was even more famous than she is. And I don’t know. At some point, she just stopped coming home. Parties, galas, there were tons of other things I don’t know about. My dad didn’t want me to know very much about it so he wouldn’t even let me read the newspaper. I’m not even sure when, exactly, but Linda got a house with Jeremy before she even left my dad. And now, she won’t answer my calls, or come home for Christmas or…” Sarah shook her head. Jareth did not convey pity, nor anger. He simply was listening. It made it easier to continue. “Look, Jareth, people say lots of crap. They can tell you with their words they love you. They can be Goblin Kings, or they can be your mom, your husband, your wife, and it means jack diddly squat at the end of the day. Talk is cheap. And honestly? So is love most of the time. That’s just how this stuff works. So you can say all you want that you love me, that you won’t get rid of me. But,--” Sarah shrugged. “You don’t even know me. You just think you do. One day you’ll get sick of me, too, just like those other girls. And you know what? Even I gave Toby away. So really, we’re all just…broken. You can save your sob story for someone who will buy it, OK? Just be honest with me and call this what it is. I’m your prisoner until I’m not anymore.”

     Sarah shuddered with the feeling that she had just thrown up. Jareth’s eyes were furrowed. 

     “You think that you’re like your mother because of what you did with Toby?” He asked her. She glared at him, unable to respond. 

     “Oh, Sarah,” Jareth sighed, a touch of regret in his tone. He looked off into the distance, resting his gaze on the goblins busy playing. “When we first met, out there,” he pointed to the edge of the Labyrinth. “You were so sure of yourself, of who you were. Determined like a bat out of hell. It makes me sad to see that gone from you. To see that light snuffed out from inside of you in just a few years’ time.”

     Like a match, Sarah felt as though she were on fire.

     “Oh, screw you, Jareth! If all you’re gonna do is insult me then you can just f–” Sarah turned to storm off but he caught her by the wrist.

     “No,” his voice was ominous. “We need to finish this. That is how things are done, so that is how we’ll do them.” The Goblin King pulled her to him. “You mean to tell me that you think your feelings aren’t true because of what happened with Toby? But you fought like hell to get Toby back, didn’t you? Now, you’re a smart girl, Sarah. Why do you think that is?”

     Sarah scowled at him. “Let me go.”
     “No,” he ordered. The air stung with his magic. “Answer me. I offered you your dreams.  You turned them down for your brother .” He squeezed her hand. “But why?”

     “I–I don’t know.”

     “Oh, come now. Yes, Sarah, you do.” His eyes were hauntingly intense. She felt herself crumble beneath his gaze.

     “Because–I love him.”

     “Yes. That’s right,” he agreed, rubbing her hand with his gloved fingers. “So we have two different kinds of circumstances, then. The kind in which your mother left you and never came back–the false kind of love people profess with their lips but don’t feel. But then, the other kind, where you wished Toby away, and you fought like hell to bring him home. The real, self-sacrificing kind. Your actions alone are proof that what you said of love isn’t true. You rejected your own dreams for love.”

     Sarah sniffled, but was, once again, disarmed. Then, suddenly afraid again, she said, “That doesn’t mean you won’t send me away.” 

     Jareth loosened his grip on her. His voice was newly soft. “Sarah, you precious thing. When we first met I had no idea...” He paused, moved slowly, then, when he was sure she wouldn't flinch he cupped her face. “I promise you, I will never do such a thing. Ever . Not when the stars turn to dust or when the world falls down.”

     Even if she wanted to believe, she didn’t understand.

     “But…why? You don’t even know me,” she whispered, her eyes full of him and tears.

     Jareth, finally broken, exclaimed, “Sarah, you act as if my feelings for you are based on some kind of exam! What’s your favorite movie?? Your favorite poem? For goodness’ sake.” He shook his head. “That’s not how this works. If you want to know why I love you, I’d tell you. But I’m not even sure if you’d listen if I did since you say words mean so little to you.”

     Suddenly, Jareth lit up behind his eyes. 

     “Sarah,” he whispered, in low murmur. “Let me show you. My feelings.”

     The wind rustled the leaves beneath them, but she never looked away.

     “What?” She asked.

     “Just once,” he tried again, moving his face closer to hers. “If nothing else, can you do that?”

     The girl was nervous in a new way. Jareth’s eyes were wide, and she saw a hunger in them.

     “You…you can do that?”

     He blinked.

     “Yes. If my words won’t do, then let me show you,” he whispered.  “Properly.”

     She needed to watch him to be sure. This was the second step, being sure. 

     She met his gaze again. His eyes were once again full of truth. And when she was certain, she nodded at him.

     “Alright,” she agreed. “Ok.”

     That was the end of his patience. The Goblin King tightened his arms around her like a vine, drawing her up closer, this time, to his face. 

o o o

     It was electrifying. 

     Sarah saw strange visions of grassy knolls in the park of her childhood, of her hand-written verse scrawled across lines of yellowed notebook paper; the name ‘Jareth’ curled itself in round, weeping letters as they bubbled along the margins. It was her stories. Her words. The taste of peaches spilled over in her mouth as she winced at it all. But the visions carried on regardless of whether she wanted them to stop or not.

     Sarah watched herself from high above, calling out words she knew she’d said from a time that wasn’t now, but long ago. She was floating. Not here, but some other where. Listening. 

     “Goblin King, Goblin King, show your face to me. If your love be true, then consider me your love to be.” 

     Then, Sarah saw Jareth. He was listening, through the orb, alone in the darkness, her face the only light in a large, black room. She could tell in some unspoken way that this was the past.

     Sarah watched on. From within that crystal ball, a younger version of herself outstretched her arms to the sky and embraced the rain like it might baptize her. Clad in white, again and again: she sang this song to him from the choir of her heart. She wore veils made of curtain sheers. She made flower crowns from daisies. Rings from plastic. It was more than pretend, Sarah had believed in him. Sarah had read of him, and more than that, she had loved him. There was no use in figuring out why. It didn’t change the facts. She could feel Jareth’s longing like they were sharing the same heart. And maybe, every so often, they were.

     The scene shifted into misty darkness and reappeared in a new day. Same girl, same plea. Sarah professed her love to the Goblin King who listened. This happened many times. A thousand vignettes flashed before her eyes, each one of them a memory. His. Hers. It mattered little. All of them were lines in a contract she could now remember signing.

o o o

     This was the final threshold. That is how this works. She kept her eyes closed.

     Who knew how long it lasted? Neither of them could be sure. At some point, the visions ended but the kiss continued. And when it was over, it was him who pulled away. Slowly, shakily. He left his hands on the sides of her face like he had to be sure she wouldn’t float off into the clouds. Or maybe it was so that he wouldn’t. They were both panting like they had been submerged in an ocean for days without air. Sarah, for her part, had been clutching at his shirt.

     When she had enough sense in her, she whispered:

     “I don’t…This all feels like a dream, Jareth…A very weird dream.”

     Her lips were numb. So were his. For a moment, the silence persisted. He stared with half-lidded eyes, waiting on her, knowing she would ask him. She tilted up her nose–the unspeaking question.

     Jareth kissed her again. Slow and hard. It was nice, being wanted. It was nice, to be kissed by someone who loved her. 

     This time, her mind didn’t go anywhere but that balcony. He lowered his hands from her face to her sides, pressing her to him. She didn’t seem to mind. When he pulled away, he kept her to him, resting his chin atop her head. 

     “What about now? Is it a bad dream?” Jareth asked in a low, husky voice. Right as she was about to part her lips, he put his hand over her mouth. “No, Sarah. It won’t work if you just say words. Really think about it before you answer,” he added then moved his hand away. Her heart was racing. Her throat felt tight.

     Sarah closed her eyes to give it a real try. If this was a bad dream, it was the best bad dream of her life. Sure, it might be strange to kiss a nearly three hundred year old fae man from your dreams. But, she supposed, she was not living her life to make other people happy. And this felt like happiness. Whatever this was—it was also nice. There was no denying that.

     To be seen, to be known. To be wanted. And then, kissed! She could feel the weight of the razor in her pocket, but she could also feel the warmth of him through her clothes. She could feel her heartbeat, but she could hear his breathing. She was worried she might pass out, so she took a shaky breath.

     “No, it’s... I–I don’t know,” she admitted. “It was wonderful. I’m afraid. I don’t know how to go about any of this, Jareth. I’m sorry,” she whispered. At that, she felt his cheek against hers; Jareth wrapped his arms around her like gentle wings. It happened so fast. But good God, it was happening! 

     It was magnetic, standing there. In so many ways, nothing was going on–but in fact, everything was. Sarah could have sworn the walls trembled when he tightened his embrace. The tingling sensation in her arms reminded her of the time she had accidentally touched the electric garden fence at her grandfather’s farm. She knew it was meant to keep the animals out, but she had touched it anyway out of curiosity. And when she had tried, she couldn’t force her hand to open to let it go. 

     They stared at each other out of breath. The air was crisp with a new breeze.

     “Think of it as starting over. From this moment on, let’s do things the right way. You’re just going to have to give it some time,” he whispered. “Can you do that?” he asked. His voice had lost all hint of subtext. He was really asking her now. Just asking. It was all in earnest. No tricks or games. Sarah felt the goosebumps travel along her legs and through her neck. She smelled the vanilla on him, the sweetness. 

     “Yes,” she agreed. Was it always this easy? So simple? And fast? And with one more skin-tingling squeeze, he let her go. She teetered in imbalance at his withdrawal.

     “Come on, Sarah,” he offered her his hand. She stared at it dizzily.

     “Where are we going?” She asked him, presenting her fingers. Sarah watched with cottony ears as he brought her hand up to his mouth. She raised her eyebrows. Before he pressed his lips to her skin, he flashed her a dashing smile. 

     “My beautiful Sarah,” he kissed her wrist. “You’ll just have to trust me and see.” He said this firmly. Her cheeks flushed red hot, but she didn’t move her hand.

     “Can I have a hint?” She asked with a small voice. 

     Jareth watched her eyes like a hawk, searching her for a sense of rebellion. Sarah was more surprised than she knew how to think, so he darted back down for another kiss, this one a few inches higher on her arm. She couldn’t help but giggle. It tickled. It was fun. The Goblin King smiled at her warmly. “We can’t live on words alone, can we?”

     She shook her head.

     “Come on then,” he said, leading her by the hand. “Let’s get some breakfast.”

Chapter Text

Rule 12: Be On Time

     This was exciting, wasn’t it? She had finally done it. After all this time of forgetting and trying to remember him, after the nightmares and the visions, after not kissing him but wanting to in that ballroom–here she was. Finally . Sarah was smitten and stupefied. 

     Her legs felt wobbly as she and Jareth moved, hand in hand, harmoniously through the halls. The jitters in her chest were akin to how Sarah imagined a shaken, unopened bottle of Coke might feel on a hot summer’s day. Any touch would be enough to send her over the edge, fast to shatter. To avoid it, she held onto Jareth’s hand for dear life, afraid that if she let go she might float away into the ceiling, never to be seen again. 

     It was nice to start over.

     She relished that their fingers were interwoven like human jigsaw pieces, made to match. As they moved through the cluttered hallways of his palace, she considered how easy it was. What had she been worried about again? Why had she fought against this so hard for so long? It was natural, him leading her forward like that. It was thrilling, even. She squeezed his hand just to see what would happen and found joyfully that he both returned the gesture and looked down at her. 

     “I’d like to have pancakes,” Sarah said dreamily. 

     “Do you now?” He was amused. “That’s all you want?”

     “I feel like–I feel like it would be nice.”

     “Believe me,” he began fondly, “It will be…as soon as I figure out what pancakes are.”

     They chuckled together in a childish way and exchanged smiles like people in on a lurid secret.

     The last time she had held hands with anyone, it was with Peter Henson during their prom photoshoot, in which Sarah remembered his palms being excessively sweaty and cold. But Jareth’s hands were not sweaty at all. If anything, it was her fingers that felt clammy. But he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

     She couldn’t help but smile at him, forgetting fully about any razor in her pocket to instead acknowledge how handsome he was. Should she say something to him? Oh, but what did one say at a time like this? 

     “Can you kiss me again?” She asked. Jareth all but melted and obliged her.

     “As many times as you want,” he whispered. She beamed at him, and Jareth mirrored her warmth with a small grin. Sarah found that there wasn’t a hint of mystery to it. It was plain as day; he was candidly enjoying this moment, too. Not a word needed to be said between them. Just two people who have kissed, and nothing more.

     And yet, at the same time, Sarah was aware of the busy-bodied goblins moving in their midst, eyes crawling over her before darting back to the floors; Sarah could hear their gossipy murmurs. She blinked confusedly at one who grumbled with arms crossed beside her, muttering something or other about cake. But Jareth unlatched his hand from hers and curled his arm around her back to guide her forward, as if to say: pay them no mind . He rested his hands above her tailbone and murmured in her ear. 

     “Here we are.”

     When she looked up, there was a dining room illuminated with a vast sea of floating tea lights and candlesticks. The walls were built from ornately carved wooden panels painted creamy white, and there were portraits, some of gardens and others of the maze, that rested in their places like upright soldiers at their post. At the room’s center, there was a long table set with a white linen cloth and stacks of every breakfast food imaginable. The buffet piled itself into cornucopious displays of opulence the whole way down. She almost didn’t notice the three tiny goblins, jeering and panting, as they darted out from the room, hands chocked full of bananas and muffins. Jareth might have given them a look of disdain, but she was too busy taking in the image of more food than she had ever seen in her life, to notice. 

     “Oh—Jareth. I…”

     He patted the place on her back. “I promised you your dreams. And apparently right now, that’s pancakes.” He closed the door behind them with his boot. “A little privacy sounds nice, doesn’t it? Although, maybe that’s just my dream.”

     Sarah blinked. “Privacy?” She asked him.

     He extended his hand to the table. “Let’s sit down.” 

     So, they did. She wasn’t sure if he pulled out her chair for her, or if she simply opened her eyes and was sitting. Perhaps it didn’t matter. When she looked at him again, he was cutting into a large pile of four or five pancakes with golden cutlery, looking about as eagerly at them as she had ever seen him look at anything. Did Jareth like food? It appeared as though he did–and quite a bit, too. This was another thing she hadn’t noticed about him. His appetite. She took note of it now. Better late than never, you know? She observed how he held his fork with the curves facing downwards, his forefinger on its back, like her mother once said fancy European men do. She pushed the memory aside and wondered where someone like a Goblin King would learn such manners. But in any case, she followed suit, positioning her fork and knife the way she knew she ought to so that they would match.

o o o 

     There was plenty to do with her. Horseback riding, a tour of the gardens, tea in the library. Women liked these things, didn’t they? Jareth certainly hoped so. Right now, they were walking. Much to his surprise, she had wanted to see the Labyrinth again more than she had wanted to see the library.

     “Truly?” He asked her as they finished breakfast. When she kissed his cheek as a ‘yes’, he was so dumbfounded that he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

     But as they were walking, he realized that it was impossible to tell if she was enjoying herself. It was quiet in the Labyrinth, in a way where sound is gobbled up by its walls. It can be eerie, if you let it, even when you know it as well as he did. 

     Jareth noticed after a few quiet minutes of strolling that the smile had left her lips. Her face was neutral. She wasn’t talking, and Jareth realized in that silence that, even though she was right beside him, Sarah couldn’t have felt further away. 

     “Is everything alright?” He asked. “Perhaps, this is enough of the Labyrinth for one day?”

     “Hm?” She sounded confused. “Oh. No, Jareth, this is nice. I'm--just,” she paused and smiled gently at him. It was reassuring to hear her say his name with a smile on her lips. “I guess I was just getting lost in my own head again. Sorry to worry you.”

     Worry him? She was sorry?

     “About?” He was curious.

     “I guess, well, I want to know more about you,” she explained by talking with her hands. “You know alot about me but… I can’t say the same in return. Like, did you build this Labyrinth? And, you must have a family. And hobbies?”

     This made him feel a hundred years younger, for some reason, that she wanted to know him.

     And so they talked about it.

     He realized there wasn’t much to tell. The Labyrinth was here when he was born, but now he was its king. Second, Jareth had no living family, he explained, and his favorite hobbies included teasing goblins and planning soirees. 

     “Do you like parties?” She asked him. “Or just planning them?”

     “Both,” he answered with some pride. “Do you like parties?”

     Jareth could tell he wanted a particular answer from her, though he didn’t know why. He wanted her to agree with him and was worried about what would happen if she didn't.

     Sarah giggled.

     “Well, I think I like the idea of parties more than parties themselves.” She squeezed his hand. “Too many people watching me sometimes can make me nervous. I always admired you in that way, it never seems to bother you.”

     He watched her, enthralled. “You get used to it,” he said with a small voice. 

     “Really?”
     He nodded and they walked on.

     Jareth tried to only show her the best parts of his maze, but she wanted to keep taking the wrong turns. The Goblin King even had to hold his tongue as she stopped to talk to wall worms and as she stared into mirror pools. He didn’t understand why she wanted to do these things, but he also didn’t have the heart to tell her to hurry up. Because, where, after all, where were they hurrying off to?

     So instead, he watched in confusion as she traced her fingers along the crevices of the bricks rather than holding his hand. And he even hesitantly agreed when she asked to race him down a line of the Labyrinth to see who could run the furthest before losing steam. He let her win of course, to be a gentleman. This is what he told her, anyway. 

     “You’re very fast,” he panted, hands on his knees. He was used to teleporting.

     “I’m a sprinter,” she grinned at him, not even out of breath. “My best race is the 400 meter dash. It’s hell on earth. Did you know I can do it in under one minute?”

     Jareth furrowed his eyebrows. “Really?” He asked airly, not sure if he was thinking straight.

     This whole ordeal of wooing Sarah was like throwing darts at the wall with his eyes closed. After all of his efforts, he was still left wondering how she was feeling. It was exhausting, seeking after her approval. Sure, he knew she had wished to be back, in the Underground, with him–in an ethereal, mythical sense. And he had wanted her beside him too, of course. All of that was laid bare now; his kissing her had made sure of it. But he wanted more than simple lust or Labyrinth races from her. Though, it was nice kissing her and running with her, wasn’t it? 

     He too her arm to continue in their walk, but Jareth winced as they rounded a hidden corner.

     The Goblin King had lived many centuries. He had seen countless fae men make poor choices of human brides, and he had watched the disasters that those kinds of miscalculations left in their wake. When marriage fails, empires fall. Simple as that. It wasn’t exactly a point of pride that he had fallen as hard as he had. In certain circles, this would be outright laughable.

     It was for that reason Jareth had never made any such serious advances on women– human or otherwise. He had been very honest about that and he had meant it. It wasn’t like he didn’t know the pleasures of the flesh, but marriage always seemed imprudent to him. Was love not always some zero sum game for men like him? But then again, this had been different, hadn’t it? Jareth hadn’t been the one to make the advances. Sarah had sought after him. In her own way, she had chosen him without his meddling. And it was nice, being the chosen one. To be desired without reason and against all logic. Jareth reassured himself. For the fae, this usually went the other way around–the one with the most magic would do the choosing. Dealer’s choice. But not this time. Perhaps this distinction would set them apart. Jareth considered that it was always possible to learn to regret one’s dreams, which meant it was possible for Sarah to change her mind again. If he wasn’t careful, she could still be a weakness.

     “Don’t worry,” Sarah’s familiar voice drew him out of his cloudy thoughts. Jareth nearly flinched.

     “Hm?” He raised both his eyebrows. As fast as a chill, he snuffed out the look of surprise on his face. “Worry about what?”

     Without looking at him she patted his arm. “Oh, I just wanted you to know that the Labyrinth was never really a piece of cake. So don’t worry. I won’t say anything silly like that again.”

     She looked at him in a way so playful that it perplexed him.

     “That’s,” he hesitated. “Rather reassuring.” 

     She giggled. He felt dizzy. They kept walking, hand in hand, as he returned to his thoughts.

     It stands to reason, then, that the more he showed her of his kingdom, the heavier the responsibility of helping her adjust to it grew. It wasn’t exactly all fairytale ballrooms and glitter around here. She’d need to learn to accept that if they were going to get anywhere with one another. 

     Again, that’s why Jareth was intent on showing Sarah the good parts first. Certainly, it was entertaining to watch her ogle at the splendor of his realms, but it was also necessary. Before she could rule alongside him and oversee this ramshackle empire in need of new life and new bounty, first she needed to love it. Then, once she knew the power and promise as well as he did, she could answer the Labyrinth’s call to duty and lead the kingdom at his side. That was the only way he could see it working, so that was the way it would have to be. 

     Now, it wasn’t a perfect system. It’s not like Jareth could stop the many tiny goblins from their usual chaos as they darted to and fro, squabbling amongst one another over everything and nothing at all, as the King and Sarah made their rounds. 

     He made a careful note to watch her when it happened. Jareth studied how she halted and said silly things like ‘excuse me’ to them or how she would lean down and gently tap one on the shoulder if it was in her way. His face contorted when she apologized for stepping on one of his guard’s feet–even when they were outside and had gotten in the way. The girl had treated them like sweet, dwarven children, for goodness sakes. Jareth shook his head when she wasn’t looking and decided after the third instance to handle all interactions with his subjects from now on. At least for the day. 

     Sarah had a thing or two to learn about goblins or else she would never make it around here.

     “Now, now. You can pick them up by their scruff, Sarah,” he instructed her, snatching one of the creatures as it darted across the garden path before them. He smiled cooly and extended the squirming goblin to her. The creature’s eyes were wide and full of unruly excitement.

     “Does…does it hurt him?” Sarah asked with true concern. Jareth couldn’t help but laugh. Hurting goblins? What a thing to say. She was rather cute when she was worried.

     “What? No. Watch ,” Jareth turned to the creature in his hand and said, “You’re a boggling goblin.”

     The goblin chortled in merriment. “A boggling goblin?” The creature replied in a small, bubbly voice.

     “Indeed, little chap.”

     The goblin burst out in raucous, coughing laughter as Jareth released him. The Goblin King watched with a crooked smile as the creature hit the Labyrinthine ground and chortled like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. 

     Jareth glanced at Sarah expectantly, perhaps thinking she would find it all great fun just as he did. But all he saw was confusion, maybe even a streak of fear. He frowned. 

     “Oh, come now. Don’t be like that,” he reached for her hand and kissed it. It appeared to calm her only slightly. He liked it so much he did it again. “They think it’s all rather good fun,” he said warmly. Her expression softened, but only an increment. She squeezed his hand but said nothing. He sighed.

     “Would you like to see the fountains?” He asked, eager to change the subject. She nodded.

o o o

     Jareth, if he was in the business of being honest with himself–which was as rare as it was easy–felt like he was walking on eggshells. Sure, Sarah all but refused to let go of his hand when she wasn’t tracing the bricks. That was as good a sign as any of her approval. And every once in a while she would poke him in the arm, asking in her wordless way for him to lean down so she could whisper a question in his ear. But he was mostly intrigued by how she would smile sweetly at his goblin subjects. Was it out of pity, he wondered, or disgust? It felt like it could only be one or the other, and Jareth wanted to know. 

     In truth, behind his neutral expression and fancy words, he had spent hours trying to discern whether that look on her face was one of mortified shock or a bubbly and amorous contentment. It all rested on that, didn’t it? Shock or assent. 

     Have mercy on me , he wanted to say. There’s only so many riddles a man can take.

     She was chaste in her gestures, but simultaneously intimate. He hadn't expected that. So he had to read her face, and when he couldn’t figure out whether she was happy by studying her expression alone, he tried to understand by reading her words. However, she’d frequently tell him the most mind-boggling things without any prompting or context. It was confusing. No goblin spoke the way she did– neither did any fae he had ever met. It drove him wild. Absolutely wild. And it kept him on his toes.

     “I didn’t get cast as a lead part in this year’s musical.” She said this to him out of nowhere and for no reason at all that he could garner. 

     They were sitting on a bench in front of one of his many fountains. He knew that it happened to be the only one that was fully working, but instead of saying it was beautiful, Sarah had said this. What was Jareth supposed to do with that? But he knew that she had wanted him to respond. 

     “I thought being in front of people made you nervous?” He asked.

     “It does,” she replied. He narrowed his eyes to figure out this new riddle. 

     After a moment’s deliberation, he landed on:

     “Well, whoever did that to you sounds like an idiot.”

     Yes, that sounded kingly, he reasoned. Authoritative. And supportive. Women love that– as far as he knew, anyway. But instead of answering right away, Sarah took a deep breath, which he took to be a less than great sign.

     Had he said something to make her angry? Was that arrangement of supportive words the wrong thing to say to a human girl? Dear God, this woman and her unruly emotions, Jareth thought. Please not another outburst. They’d only just shared their first four hours of loving peace. He’d like to keep the train moving without another hitch.

     “No. It was me. I messed up the audition,” she touched her chest. “I got my lines mixed up.” 

     The anger he expected from her never came. Instead she leaned on his shoulder. The Goblin King blinked in surprise. He was still getting used to this, to her wanting to touch him.

     “Oh,” was all Jareth could think to say. Feeling that this wasn’t enough, he added, “Why couldn’t you remember them?”

     But here’s the thing, as soon as he said that, he realized how stupid he had sounded. He of all people knew why she couldn’t remember. Her deteriorating mind was a natural result of the Labyrinth’s hold on her, because of the peach he had given her. So now, Jareth had just asked her a question he knew the answer to. Worse yet, she may now be reminded that the reason for her indefinite stay was all because of his doing. This could be the end of peace, he realized. He could have sent her over the edge again. God damnit. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable. 

     But then, she didn’t say anything like that. She ignored him and went some other direction entirely.

     “What would you do if you could go back to the beginning?” Sarah asked as she wiggled her fingers in his. He let go of her hand because that’s what he thought she wanted as she added, “Would you do things differently? I mean, I guess what I’m trying to say is, if you knew how things would go, would you still love me?”

     At that, she took his hand and splayed it open. What an odd thing to do, he considered, but he watched her, entranced. She appeared to be studying his palms. Jareth observed her tracing the shape of his hand with her pointer finger.

     “What are you doing?” He asked her.

     “Don’t change the subject, Jareth,” she warned, sounding fierce as ever. He rolled his eyes. “I want to know,” she added softly.

     Jareth stared into the hedges and thought about their beginning. What would he change? He remembered her bedroom, the snake–which at the time, felt like a glorious, capital joke–the fighting, then the race to the end. The excitement, the chase. He remembered how he ached when she had told him those final, fatal words, when she had sent him away. He could feel the hollow pang of emptiness that hung around him when she was gone. 

     But none of that mattered, however, when it came to her question. 

     It was her loving him that captured his heart. In that park, pleading for him–in her stories, writing for him. She sought him out when to others he was a mythic, arcane shadow. 

     There had been many women who had offered their children up to Jareth, but no one had ever offered their hand nor their heart to him. Certainly not in marriage. Sarah was the first, and he would be glad if she could be the last. (This was all a lot of work, he was finding). The Goblin King was hardly built for love. But if she had made a promise to be his, Jareth could not stop himself from having her. 

     “What’s done is done, Sarah. You know that better than most.” He paused. “But my feelings for you will never change. There’s no going back now, and there never will be.”

     Silently, Jareth watched as Sarah brought his hand up to her lips. She kissed it. Her eyes were half-lidded, full of wanting. So different from any look she’d ever given him before. He let her do it. He let her do it because it was so beautiful to watch her kiss him.

     Then, in a swift and unexpected motion, she leaned over so that she could take his face in her hands. 

     “I’ve never done this before,” she said nervously. “But they do it in all the movies.”

     She moved again and was now in his lap. Her chest was pressed against his, Jareth’s blueish gray eyes went wide because, for once, he didn’t know what to say. Was this the same Sarah who had slapped him yesterday? This girl who was holding his face, looking at him with such seriousness that he couldn’t think straight, how could she be his Sarah?

     “Do you love me Jareth?” She asked, her voice serious and yet full of hope. This was an important question. Jareth’s smile unveiled his pleasure, how much he was enjoying her sitting on him like this. He’d hoped she would return his bedroom glances, but she only looked at him frantically. 

     She was always a softy at heart, his Sarah. And Jareth would be lying if he said this quality of hers wasn’t an endearingly novel thing to him. But Jareth also knew that ‘love’ in the Underground meant something far different to him than it did to her; it connoted only the notion of desire and control. And while, with every kiss and touch of her skin against his, there was a growing hunger inside of him to act upon those urges, it was not as if all he felt for Sarah were such things. He wished for a better word to give her. Love didn’t seem good enough. She was far more to him than that. Companions can be lovers, but not always, and vice versa. He’d hoped that in time, she would be both. He would have to explain this to her. Humans understand marriage, he considered. This can’t be that hard of a pivot to understand it in a fae sense. Jareth searched her eyes to find the words. 

     “I told you. I move the stars for no one.” He said this softly, moving a strand of hair behind her ear as he did. This was a line he had read in a book once, and the fact that he had taken it from somewhere else was a notion he would keep to himself. He continued. “But I will move them for you, Sarah. If you will have me.” Jareth tilted his head. “You know the terms.”

     He had expected another kiss, but then again, he couldn’t see straight, let alone think straight. On top of him, the smell of lavender and lilies filled the back of his throat as she positioned herself in his lap. Was he dreaming? Or had God finally blessed him? Her weight on him was delicious. Her closeness, tantalizing. Jareth leaned back and enjoyed the feeling of her knees on either side of his thighs. Holy hell, it was happening. On that park bench, she sat on him like he was her throne. 

     “I remember. Fear you. Love you,” she paused, glancing down to recall the exact words. “And do as you say.” That’s where she stopped. Jareth could tell she had wanted him to say the next part.

     Oh , he realized. He had used the word ‘love’ there, hadn’t he? Strange. It felt so different then. He had never misplaced a better word, Jareth decided. His legs burned in anticipation as he held her in his arms.

     “That’s right,” the Goblin King lifted his hand and tapped two of his fingers just beneath her neck. She blushed. Jareth could tell she was holding her breath, which made him feel lighter than mist. 

     “And?” Her voice was as small as a squeak. He smiled at her flustering. 

     “And I will be your slave,” he finished. The words felt like warm, dark chocolate in his mouth. Familiar.

     “What about my dreams?” She asked, her hands were on both sides of his face.

     “All of them,” he answered.

     “But…I still wonder…Why?” She whispered. “What do you possibly get out of all of this?”

     A beat of silence followed as he considered her question. He lifted a hand and rested it on her thigh, testing the waters. She didn’t ask him to stop, so he left his hand there.

     “You do this, and you ask me what I get in return?” He smiled. “I already told you. I can’t live without you, Sarah. For better or for worse, that’s just the way things are.”

     At that, Jareth closed his eyes, expecting her to kiss him. That would be what she would want, to finish this whole conversation off sweetly. So he did just that. With his eyes closed, Jareth waited. 

     Only, there was a pause. He could still feel her steady weight on his lap, but no kiss befell his lips. Was his lovely Sarah growing shy on him all of a sudden? Jareth peeked open one eye to check, and at the same time, she pulled him into a tight embrace.

     “Oh,” he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. This was unexpected. Not bad, just unexpected. Sarah didn’t say anything to him for a while. Her grip around him only tightened.

     Jareth couldn’t tell if it was a romantic hug or not, nor could he decide whether he should move to kiss her or remain still. But he also didn’t feel anxious. With her ear pressed against his, they could feel each other’s hearts. One, thrumming on the off-beat, the other, perfectly on time. He put his hand on her back without even thinking.

     “You’re mad, Goblin King,” Sarah breathed into his hair. “Absolutely nuts.” Then, before he could be insulted, she added, “But then again, maybe I am, too.”

     A rumble of thunder groaned in the distance. Once again, what an odd thing to say. Not very romantic, Jareth considered. But also…sweet? He considered it like a riddle as her hair was in his nose, smelling of sunshine. Jareth felt the need to close his eyes again. 

     “Are you now?” He thought he’d asked. Perhaps he had only dreamt it. Then, when Jareth was least expecting it, Sarah took his face again in her hands and brought him swiftly to her lips.

Chapter Text

     Sarah couldn’t do it–not that she had ever really tried. On Jareth’s lap,  red-faced and out of breath, she had realized this might be her only chance. The razor felt heavy in her pocket as she held his face, and all she could see was his perfect, white neck. If she was going to do anything, it would be right now. The thought did cross her mind.

     And yet, it didn’t matter. It never did. Sarah didn’t do a thing.

     Even though she had remembered what her mother had said, even though she knew it was wrong all the same to feel the way she felt, that razor might as well have been string cheese because that’s how much logic mattered when it came to Jareth. When he said those words to her, her fate might as well have been carved in stone or runes on her own back. Sarah knew she could never go as far as to reach for her pocket. 

     This man was in love with her beyond reason. And she couldn’t deny it. But more importantly,  she was in love with him, too.

     “But…I still wonder…Why?” She whispered. “What do you possibly get out of all of this?”

     She watched him raise his hand and fumble for her leg. When he found it, she raised an eyebrow.

     "You do this, and you ask me what I get in return?” He smiled. “I already told you. I can’t live without you, Sarah. For better or for worse, that’s just the way things are.”

     Perhaps it was just the fact that it had been a long day and a long fight. Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t think straight when she was sitting on him. Or maybe it was that Sarah held Jareth’s life in her very hands. But whatever he had said had done it, for some reason.

     It was the final nail in the coffin, the final chord, the last straw–whatever it was, it had broken the last wall of her own heart. 

     It made no sense. But this was always the way things were, wasn’t it? Him and her, in love for no reason beyond the fact that they were. It was irrevocable. It was unthinkable. But most of all, it was the truth.

     And look at her, in his lap, as joyful as she had ever been. Sarah had eaten the food of his realm, slept in a bed of his making, worn the clothes of his choosing, and she had never felt better in all her life.  She was free. There was no use in fighting it. Life alongside him was her dream, and Sarah could no longer bear a moment more if it meant living her life without pursuing him. That face, that heart, that Goblin King–her will was every bit as strong his, which meant—

     That was the end of it, then. 

     She had decided.

     Sarah pulled Jareth to her face. Hard. And like fire to powder, the Goblin King returned her passion, kiss for eager kiss. 

o o o 

     It was dark when they returned from the Labyrinth. Not that she thought about it much, but the goblins were nowhere to be seen. The halls were mostly empty, save the occasional creature curled up in a peaceful, snoring sleep.

     Hand in hand, the couple slipped into the dining room of the palace, laughing together about some joke of Jareth’s that Sarah had already half-forgotten by the time they sat down for dinner. He kissed her cheek and asked her what she’d wanted.

     “What about pizza?” Sarah asked, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her hands. She was feeling gleeful, just by looking at him. 

     Jareth stiffened in his chair and arranged his hands over his crossed legs, looking as though he had to think very carefully.

     “You always ask for the most peculiar things.”

     “Oh,” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Is it too hard for you, Your Majesty?” She joked. Jareth grunted.

     “Hardly,” he muttered and raised his arms to be at face-level. Sarah watched him with curiosity; she wanted to see how this worked. 

     Jareth splayed his hands. She monitored his fingers, but that wasn’t where the magic was. It was the lights that seemed to dim, which was strange because the room was filled with candlelight and nothing electric. Then, as gentle as a whisper, the air whirred. Sarah immediately felt dizzy, so she blinked and there it was: a cheese pizza in a box next to a few bottles of cola.

     “How did you learn to do that?” She asked him. “Can everyone in the Underground learn how to do that?”

     Jareth seemed entertained at her sense of wonder, but not eager to explain.

     “A lesson for another day,” he chuckled and inspected the box. Sarah observed his notable confusion. “How are we supposed to eat this?” He asked her.

     She had no problem in showing him. It felt nice, being the one to show him something.

     “Oh,” Sarah punctuated the sound. “It’s so easy. Here,” she pulled a triangle from the pie and demonstrated. “You eat it with your hands.”

     The Goblin King watched with a raised eyebrow as the woman he loved abandoned all table manners for educational purposes.

     “That looks rather messy,” he complained.

     “Oh, stop being a stick in the mud and just try it.” 

     She leaned over and offered him a piece. He held it limply in his hands.     

     “No one ever let me get just cheese,” Sarah explained wistfully. “It was always pepperoni or garbage pizza for us.”

     “Who would want to eat garbage?” Jareth was legitimately surprised. “Your family sounds cruel. I may be King of Goblins, but even I draw the line at feeding people garbage.” 

     Sarah giggled. 

     “Oh, no. It’s just a name. Garbage pizza, it means lots of toppings. My stepmother—,” Sarah paused, furrowing her brow. Something that was supposed to be in her mind was missing. What was it?

     Sarah sat back in her chair and returned the unfinished slice of pizza to a plate that wasn’t there a moment ago. She examined it like she would study a textbook. “My stepmother,” she repeated, worriedly. “What is…Shouldn’t I know her name?”

     By the time she thought to look at Jareth, he was busy scarfing his slice down, untidy bite by bite, and reaching for another one. Apparently, he liked it more than he cared for manners. As he ate, Sarah felt something inside of her blaring like a french horn–a warning light, a sigil to stop. A weight in her pocket shifted. Sarah remembered the peach.

     “What is it?” She heard him ask her over the sound of cardboard shifting. “You can’t be full already.”

     Sarah swallowed the pang of hungry nausea in her throat. She was searching for words and had to wince into the piece of the pizza on her plate until she found them.

     “Is this…Is this like the peach?” She asked him, pointing at the box. “Will eating the food here make me forget?” A fear darted through her that made her wonder if she already had been forgetting. The dreamy feeling, the whirring in her ears. Was his magic already on her? A beat of silence passed between them. She found herself looking into his eyes when she felt his gloved hand on her arm. She studied his face. His eyes were serious.

     “It’s better that way,” he said. “Trust me.”

     Sarah went cold. When she met his gaze again, Jareth frowned at her.

     “Sarah…” He sighed and sat back, his tone was all concern for her. 

     Suddenly, the air smelled like the smoke from the flittering candles, and it filled Sarah’s lungs like cleansing incense. The Goblin King was reaching for his short supply of patience and struggling to find it, Sarah could tell. It was the way his forehead was creasing. 

     “I–I can’t forget my family,” Sarah insisted, shaking her head. Jareth took a strained inhale and crossed his legs under the table. When she couldn’t find the words right away, Sarah studied the gems in his overcoat and counted the buttons on his sleeve cuffs to calm herself down. Five on each arm. One for her mother, Toby, her father, herself and…. She felt confused.

     “I love my family,” Sarah folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t want to forget about them. Why do I have to forget them to be here with you? Can’t I remember them and stay?”

     She could feel hot tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She recalled Toby’s scrunching nose and her father’s laugh. She held onto them like they were the most precious jewels in the vast treasure chest of her mind. When she glanced up at Jareth, she saw him twirling glass orbs in his right hand, his face tranquil. He leaned over like he might whisper to her. She stiffened, smelling the familiar hints of birch and vanilla. But instead of speaking, he only placed the three orbs, one by one, on her now empty plate. Where did her pizza go? How had he moved it?

     Then, as a professor might come beside a struggling student, Jareth scooted his chair over to her side. She stared down into the crystals, watching herself babysitting Toby on a rare peaceful evening, biking the Colorado trails with her dad, and snarfing down popcorn at the theater with her mom. She knew these memories well; they were some of her favorites. Jareth pointed to the third orb with one finger.

     “They’ll always be in here,” he said as if he really believed that should help. She sniffled and wiped her face.

     “So I can see them?” She asked softly. Jareth’s eyes darted from hers to the orbs. His nostrils tightened and he swallowed the tension in his throat.

     “Yes,” he nodded. “In a way, that is possible.”

     She turned to him. “You say that like that’s a bad thing.” 

     Jareth did not answer right away. Instead he touched her cheek. This had worked exceptionally well on her. Sarah was looking at him again, almost dutifully. 

     “I will not lose you again.” His voice was full of warning. She had felt it in her ribs, like it had been her own voice that had uttered it. And then he kissed her again. She did not stop him. However this kiss, unlike the first time, was unexpected, and with that came a wave of static across her senses. When he pulled away, a small noise escaped her throat. The whirring stopped. Sarah studied his eyes, and he did the same. 

     “Can you honestly say you want to leave this place again?”

     Sarah shook her head. “No,” she panted. This was the truth. But it felt the way orange juice does on one’s tongue after you brush your teeth. He curled his arm around her waist.

     “Right. Then it’s decided. Eat your dinner,” Jareth said firmly. 

     “But–”

     “I’m done with ‘buts’, ” he commanded, gesturing at the table. “Sarah, for God’s sake. Don’t pretend like this isn’t exactly what you want. I have given it to you, everything–to the letter of the law and then some. There is only so much a man can take. You need to stop fighting it.”

     He plucked a morsel off the edge of his slice and watched her impatiently. 

     “Eat,” he said, offering it to her. 

      Sarah shrunk away from him as she felt her mind coming back to her. Sure, she wanted him. But was this what she wanted? The girl studied the ornate table, the food and her clothes to be sure. What she saw was that everything was dipped in opulence, in power, and in magic. No doubt about it; each detail of this place was gorgeous and lovely and full of gold-kissed promise. Here, she would rule alongside Jareth over the Goblin City and its Labyrinth. In this world, she had found true friends and adventure. In this realm, she had great purpose.

     And then of course, there was Jareth. Sarah let her eyes rest on his mouth then the food. For years, she had envisioned him, professed her love to him in those parks–and then found him here in the Labyrinth. He had heard her from the Underground and he had come, true to his word, and taken her back here. When they kissed, she had seen it, how she had wished it so. She had done so twice with her words and more times than she could count with her heart. And even when Sarah had returned to the Aboveground and tried to forget about him, she was tormented by the truth that she could not. Like the dream one has only once in a lifetime, he was imprinted on her spirit. She loved him very, very much. As a result, she was here again, both at the beginning and the end, in his Labyrinthine grasp. Indefinitely.

     Sarah considered all of this. She lived a thousand years in a minute. And right as she was about to open her mouth to answer him, the door beside them burst open.

     “Sire! Sire!” A feminine voice croaked. Sarah and Jareth looked at the place from where the sound had come and found a lady goblin, dressed in what appeared to be a maid’s uniform, lifting her dress so it would not drag as she hobbled toward them. She nearly tripped over a pile of candles and had to frantically stamp out a flame that bit the hem of her skirt.

     “Oh! Lady heavens me!” She shouted.

     This one appeared to be much older than the rest of the goblins. All her hair was white, and her face had more wrinkles than it had bone structure. Could Goblins get old, Sarah wondered? Apparently. But how long could they live? She was thinking about this as Jareth’s voice filled the air.

     “What of this?” Jareth demanded. “I have given direct orders to be left completely undisturbed.”
     “Yes, m’lord,” the goblin agreed and bowed deeply. “I wouldn’t’ve come unless I ‘ad to. I’m afraid the children have broke into your bedroom, your majesty.”

     “ And ?” Jareth squinted at the woman more harshly than Sarah had been comfortable with. “That’s hardly a reason to usurp my orders.” 

     The old woman stammered nervously. Like some kind of reflexive sneeze, Sarah put her hand over Jareth’s. It was a silent plea, but she could tell he understood. He looked at her with surprise, then he turned back at the maid. When he spoke again, Jareth had softened his tone, but only slightly.

     “Yes, yes, then. What is worrying you?” He inquired. The maid sniffled.

     “Well, you ‘ad me make up the place. Clean it right well. Put in another toothbrush and more towels for the lady,” the goblin maid paused and stared at Sarah. Under her wrinkles, she smiled sweetly like a grandmother looking at her grandchildren. “Miss,” the goblin bowed. Sarah studied her freckled scalp and returned the warm gaze.

     “H–hello,” Sarah said softly with a polite smile. She would have waved, but Jareth had pulled in her other hand. He was holding both of them securely, as if to say: let me do this now . The old goblin continued.

     “An’ when I went looking for your razor, I found it gone sire. Not lost. Not under the sink or nothing. But gone.” The woman muttered something under her breath then cleared her throat. “I’m a’fraid the children ‘ave stolen it away because it’s shiny. You know how the little ones get before they’re big enough for butter knives. They’ll be needin’ your corralling, sire. I’m much too old for all that now.”

     The missing razor? Corralling children? Sarah felt her face lose all color. She stared at Jareth to see if he had somehow felt her guilt through his hands. When he didn’t turn his head, but instead kept his gaze perfectly fixed on the maid, Sarah held her breath.

     “Oh,” Jareth sighed laconically. He leaned back in his chair, deflated, and still not looking at Sarah. “I see.”

     “What should I do of it, your majesty?” The woman asked, picking up her dress to keep busy. Jareth thought about it for a moment. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Then, he looked back at Sarah. It sent a chill right through her. His eyes were sharp and full of cunning, like that of a cat playing with a mouse. There was a shade of annoyance in him, too.

     “Well, what do you say? Perhaps we shall throw the naughty children in the oubliette, my love?” 

     “What?” Sarah gasped. As she shifted in her chair, she could feel the once-forgotten razor rolling over in her pocket. Sarah clenched the sides of her dress to make it stop. “Why would we do that to children?”

     “ Guilty goblin children,” he smiled and corrected her, raising a finger in front of her face and wagging it from side to side. “Guilty goblin children get guilty goblin consequences.” His grin was wicked and beautiful. Sarah shivered.

     “Guilty children, guilty consequences,” the grandmother echoed gleefully. Sarah furrowed her brow in confusion at the audacity of that sweet old goblin lady. Did she have no soul? No compassion? Jareth patted Sarah’s hands confidently, like one who just said ‘I told you so’ without uttering a sound. Then, Jareth turned his gaze to the maid again and waved at her.

      “I will take it from here,” he ordered.

     “Majesty.” The goblin bowed raggedly. Sarah and Jareth watched together as she scuttled from the room. When the door closed, the air was filled with a particularly loud kind of silence, and Sarah could feel Jareth’s eyes on her. He knew about the razor, she realized. Because of course he did.

     “Jareth, I–” She stopped because he interrupted her.

     “Give it to me, Sarah,” he demanded testingly. Sarah stiffened and looked at him. It was jarring, how quickly he could go from patting her hands to scolding her. When she didn’t move he added, with only the smallest increment of softened warmth, “Where is it?” 

     “In my pocket,” she admitted. His eyes darted to her lap. She could swear the skin on her legs felt tingly. To avoid meeting his eyes, Sarah stared at the buttons on his sleeve. One, two, three, four, five. Mom, dad, me, and…. She counted a few times. Who was she forgetting? She forced herself to see their faces. Her heart was racing.

     “Look at me,” he told her, and so she did. His eyes were serious and dark as he took a long, heavy breath and uncrossed his legs. He squeezed her hands so tightly it almost hurt. “I have limits, Sarah. Trying to murder me is one of them.”

     “I wasn’t going to actually murder you!” She cried. “ I couldn’t.”

     “Oh,” Jareth sounded unconvinced. “How comforting. You were just thinking about it then?”

     Sarah winced. In the back of her eyes, warm tears were brewing. “You don’t understand. I–I was scared this morning.”

     He glared at their hands and then at her.

     “What is it going to take, Sarah?” Jareth was impatient. “When I said to fear me, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind, you know. I ask so little of you.”

     “Oh! That’s not it!” She cried. “You ask a lot of me, Jareth. Too much. But I’m sorry. Alright? I’m sorry I was afraid of what you might do to me. Is that what you want to hear? There. I said it. I’m sorry for not trusting you earlier. I do now. I’ll do better.”

     At that, Jareth rolled his eyes. He lifted one of his hands in the air, and with a flick, he was holding the razor. How did he do that, Sarah wondered? The Goblin King turned it one way and then the other, after which he set it down on her plate with a light tick. Sarah felt the hairs on her arms stand at attention. Was he going to threaten her? Harm her? She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.

     “Are you afraid of me, Sarah?” He asked her. She had no will to lie to him.

     “A little,” she said. He sighed and poked the orb with his finger. Sarah watched as it became a white, opalescent snake. She raised her eyebrows and pressed her back into the chair, removing her hand from his entirely. The snake raised its thumb-sized head at her and stuck out its tiny pink tongue, red eyes blinking.

     “Please,” Sarah felt her voice regain the disdain she had known before they had kissed. She didn’t say anything else, but it was clear that she was asking him to not play tricks on her.

     Jareth’s eyes were half lidded. He leaned over and rested his arms on the table as one does when they want to sleep in class. He blinked wearily at the serpent. 

     “I’m afraid you misunderstand me just as much as you know me,” Jareth muttered into his coat jacket. He poked the snake again. The creature wisped its tongue in his direction as if to say: watch it! Jareth huffed a puff of air out of his nostrils in a repressed chuckle and watched as the creature became dust. Jareth turned his head to her. “Do you even know what I do as Goblin King, Sarah?”

     She considered it. “I know you make mischief,” she frowned. “I know you steal other peoples’ children.”

     He scoffed.

     “ ‘Steal’ other peoples’ children…” Jareth grumbled like he’d heard such blasphemy a hundred times before and shook his head. The Goblin King sat upright and rubbed his cheek. “Oh, my pretty Sarah. You are smarter than that. I know you are.”

     The frown lessened on her lips into a confused, neutral line. What was he getting at? She glanced at the dust and then back to him. Sarah spoke again.

     “You take care of your Labyrinth and those in the Goblin City, the children that people give to you.”

     He shook his head again.

     “Now you’ve gone the other way. It’s not all one or the other. It’s in the middle. I set the rules for them,” he corrected her. “Lost souls. Each one. All hungry for chaos and thirsty for lordship. It’s a complicated thing, this Labyrinth. It’s more than a maze, it’s alive , Sarah. It’s like a jungle that wants to be made a garden, and nothing more. It answers to my magic because no one else would rule it. Now, I know this is all new to you, but you also do, in fact, know it. There are not many men like me left in the vastness of the Underground. And, if I had it my way, things might have worked out differently. But it just so happens that the Labyrinth decided that the crown should fall on my head.”

     He pointed to an invisible crown.

     Sarah could feel a question coming on, so she held her tongue. Jareth plucked another piece of pizza from the box. She watched him chew it. And when he offered her a bite, she shook her head.

     “Suit yourself. But how can you deny that the Labyrinth hasn’t called upon you in just the same way?” He asked her. 

     “But my family–” Sarah began, feeling the subject at hand beginning to shift away from her and she didn’t want to unlatch herself from it until she had gone farther to fight for it. 

     “What of them?” Jareth retorted. “They matter little when it comes to this sort of thing, when it comes to one’s dreams. Answer my question, Sarah. How can you deny this calling, given all that you have done? How can you deny me and what you want with any sort of honesty?”

     Sarah was paralyzed. This was no man’s land. A zero sum game. Sarah imagined, for a fraction of a moment, some idyllic scene in which she and Jareth rode horseback through the Labyrinth, laughing endearingly at the chase as the leaves churned in green shushing lulls around them. It made her heart swell. Then, in the next moment, she imagined the dreadful sting of forgetting her family forever. She considered the way her father must be grieving, with dark, ashen circles beneath his eyes like eternal frown marks. She considered her mother, hunched over some bottle, perhaps breathing her last.

     “Oh! Jareth, you ask too much of me!” She cried. 

     He slammed his hand on the table. “No!” He boomed. The Goblin King leaned toward her. “ No . I ask you to commit to the dreams you say you want. The dreams you’ve begged me to make from the very stars for you . You’ve taken my heart, now, you’re either in, or out, Sarah. Listen to me.” He ran his hand through his hair.  “Up there, who do you stand to be, hm?” Jareth tried again, pointing at the ceiling. “Up there you’re just some girl. A girl with a failing mind and no way to stop it. A child to a father in the way of his new marriage, a forgetful student. The daughter of a washed out actress who, what? Lives in bondage to her addictions? You want to follow in those footsteps, truly?”

     Sarah winced; these words had cut her. She felt the tears falling, and her throat was tightening.

     “Screw you, Jareth!” Sarah screamed at him. He had no right to say that, no matter how true it was. Sarah stood from the table and backed away from him. Jareth rose and grabbed her by the hand.

     “Answer me. Up there, what are you? A nobody.” He argued, tightening his grip on her. She tried to pull away but couldn’t. “But not down here, Sarah. Not to me. Down here—down here, you–,” he panted, “You are powerful. As my very heart. My wife and my queen.”

     She yanked her arm away from him. They regarded each other, in some ways, as adversaries once again. In other ways, as something else. 

     “I can’t forget my family,” she seethed at him. “If that’s what you want, I won’t even be your friend, let alone your wife, and I sure as hell won’t be your queen!” 

     Jareth’s nostrils tightened. For a moment, his face flinched. Sarah knew it well, that familiar look on his face: he was afraid. They both were. Sarah didn’t care. Her bottom lip trembled and she began to sob helplessly. All she could think of was her family. She couldn’t leave them. And certainly not without saying goodbye. When he touched her shoulder, she backed away. He didn’t reach for her again. She took the orbs of her memories from the table and held them to her chest.

     Would she be able to keep such a promise? Would he? Sarah let out a frustrated groan, and that was the last thing she said to him before she stormed out of the room. 

Chapter Text

     Jareth was at a miserable loss for what to do. As he glowered in the dimly lit throne room, rain poured against the castle walls in ghostly pitter patters. There was a leak on one end of the room, creating a pleasing tempo for him to use. The Goblin king tapped the tip of his cane to the top of his shoe on the off-beat while the water kept time to the down-beat. All he could do was think. 

     Where had things gone wrong? Jareth had done everything a man could do and more to win her over. He had given her a nostalgic room, her dreams, her favorite foods, his heart—all of it. He had been a gentleman when other fae kings would have balked. What’s a man to do now? She was beyond ridiculous.

     The Goblin King could hear Sarah crying through his crystal, which he held outstretched in his other hand. The sound felt wrong in his ears. Goblins, human babies, dwarves–he’d heard all the sobbing you could imagine. But this was just awful in ways he had no words to describe. Jareth had considered muting her entirely but couldn't bring himself to utter the spell. The idea of the silence was worse than her crying somehow. Instead, he left the image intentionally murky and the volume on low. 

     The crystal swirled, obscuring her image, but he could see that Sarah was on her bed, her face straight in a pillow. He wondered if she knew he was watching her. He wondered if she was throwing a fit in an attempt to make him feel bad. How much of her tears were real? Were any of them fake? Jareth wasn’t sure. Maybe a part of him didn’t want to know. For a fleeting moment, he tried to imagine what it would feel like to have a family like she did and then to leave them. He thought of Toby, which caused his face to contort. Briefly he imagined what a garbage pizza must look like. But when he couldn’t picture anything more, Jareth glanced away, watching the dripping tick of the water as it slurped into the floor.

     “Ugh,” he moaned. Why couldn’t the castle just stay intact for one day? Why was it always something?

     The Goblin King hummed a song to calm himself. This had worked before, in the many years when he had waited for her. Maybe she just needed more time to think about things, or rather, more time to forget? This would sort itself out on its own, perhaps, as long as she kept eating. It wasn’t like she could just stop that altogether, Jareth reasoned. She would just have to get over this shock in one way or another. 

     Tomorrow would be a new day.

     In any case he’d preferred it when she was smiling. He thought on this because it made him feel better. Today, she had been laughing with him, holding his hand, talking to him about her life–enigmatic and confusing as it may be to him. Everything had finally come together; it was all setting in its place. She had even kissed him–not once, not twice, but now as many times as he had fingers. Jareth’s mouth tingled at the memory as he closed his eyes.

     He wanted that again. He hoped it wouldn’t be long. When he opened his eyes, he studied the empty room.

     The Goblin King had no idea where his subjects were, nor did he have it in him to care at this moment. The quiet was both soothing and strange. Perhaps they were out digging in the mud again, or maybe they were waiting outside to watch the lightning make veiny webs across the sky? They often banded together to ‘oooh’ and ‘aaahh’ at the crashing lights, like children watching a fireworks display.

     “God,” he muttered to himself. How puerile could you get? 

     On another day, Jareth might have wanted to join in on the fun, or at the very least, to crash their sense of joy. But not today.

     No. All of his joy had been taken from him today. 

     Jareth studied the orb, allowing it to grow clearer. Apparently, she had changed her clothes into something she must have worn in the Aboveground. Denim pants, sneakers, and a t-shirt. She had even discarded her Underground attire. All of this Jareth took to be a furthering of her rebellion.

     He frowned. A heaviness in his chest was growing. Thunder shook the castle, and a blast of lightning filled the room. Jareth could still hear her crying. 

     The Goblin King, using the sound as cover, threw the glass crystal across the room and watched with glaring eyes as it shattered against the wall.

o o o

     An army of goblins and fairytale creatures gathered at the base of the Labyrinth.  They had been marching at an unorganized shuffle through the pelting rain for an hour. Hoggle was at the head of the order, and he had called them all to halt when they’d reached the gates.

     “Everybody stop!” He exclaimed in a strangled voice, and so they did. Armor clunked all around them. Voices shushed.

     The black, velvety night was painted with a speckled haze from the storm, but the little man could still make out the castle through the endless darkness. Over the hedges from where he stood,      Hoggle felt a tremor make its way through him as he studied the twinkling lights of the windows. Sarah was in there; he knew it.

     Hoggle didn’t want to imagine all of the horrible things King Jareth had in mind for Sarah. He could only hope he hadn’t been too late. 

     The dwarf needed to give his final orders to send the army forward, but he was too short to do it from down here. So, he looked left and decided to make do with a statue of Jareth as a podium since nothing else was around. Hoggle slinked his arms around the stony statue's outstretched arm and hopped once, then twice, three times— but it was of no use. No matter how much the little man attempted to grapple it, he could not hold onto the statue's arm in the slippery, wet rain. 

     “Ludo—help,” a deep voice began to say. Hoggle turned to face the sound and furrowed his brow at the beast. He had to wipe rain out of his eyes to see straight.

     “What?” Hoggle asked. Ludo extended a large, outstretched palm for Hoggle to step on and gestured for the dwarf to move. Hoggle nodded sheepishly and found the beast’s hands were sturdy and easy to stand on. Ludo raised Hoggle in the air like he was as light as a peach.

     “Th-Thank you,” Hoggle said, in a tone that said he was sorry. Ludo moaned happily.

     “For—Sarah,” the beast smiled up at him.

     Hoggle teetered back to the congregation from this new height. There must have been over one hundred souls or so; their eyes bore into him the way dogs look at their masters before a meal. 

     “Allow me, old fellow!” A rasping, courtly voice declared from below Hoggle. It was wholly unnecessary, but it was Sir Didymus, with his horn, offering to gather everyone’s already acute attention. But Sarah had asked for him, so Hoggle had fetched him. In any case Hoggle shook his head at the creature, but Sir Didymus, of course, paid him no mind and took his horn, pointed it toward the sky, and blasted into the air. The goblins groaned at the sound.

     “At the ready, sir Hoggle!” Sir Didymus saluted with patriotic passion. Hoggle rolled his eyes. 

     “We got to march straight through the walls, not alongside them,” Hoggle began, pointing behind him and indicating with his hands a single, tidy line. Then, feeling as though he needed to provide even clearer directions to the idiot goblins, he added, “There ain’t no turns! Just straight!”

     The goblins nodded as if they understood. On their minds, thoughts of pastries rose like yeasty bread.

     “What did he say?” A small goblin inquired near the back end of the cloister. 

     “He said there’s only ‘bout eight turns,” another corrected.

     ‘Eight turns??” The first goblin gasped. He clutched at his rapier like it was a teddy bear. “How are we supposed to know which way?”

     Hoggle, not hearing any of this, continued. “We fight for the Lady Serah of Soufflé, princess of pastries! And when Jareth is defeated, we shall all have cake! You hear?”

     There was a cheer of raucous merriment to indicate the group’s agreement on this matter. Hoggle sighed. He knew they stood no chance. But perhaps he could distract Jareth long enough to lead Sarah out of here.

      Without warning, thunder roared above them, shaking the earth and wobbling their weapons. Hoggle lost his balance and stumbled out of Ludo’s palm, making impact in a large pile of mud to break his fall. He groaned. And while many of the goblins had already turned up their heads and ‘oooh-ed’ at the beauty of it all, many more of them charged onwards as though the sky had decreed a battle cry. Chaos ensued, as if it were their most favorite thing in all the world.

Chapter Text

Rule 16: Forgive

     Sarah had no more tears. It must have been well past midnight– or thirteen o’clock–or whatever they called the dead of night around here, as she clung to her pillow and sniffled. When her sinuses cleared, she found that the fabric smelled distinctly of birch and vanilla. 

     “Ugh!” Why did everything smell like Jareth, she wondered? Worse yet, why did he smell so sweet? That always made it more confusing, how nice it was to think of him and how hard it was–all at the same time. All of the time. It was as if she had no control over her own mind when it came to him, like her flesh could be sated on the idea of him alone if she let it.

     Sarah sighed.

     Sure, she was upset with him for saying she was nothing more than a high school musical reject in the Aboveground. He had been an ass about it. Go figure. But she also knew in the darkest parts of her heart that it was true. 

     Sarah didn’t play nice with boys like Peter Henson, which was required in life to get those big parts. She didn’t want to babysit her little brother, she didn’t want to pretend like she was alright with her broken family, and her chief goal in life to be an actress was a milquetoast pipedream inspired by her addict mother at best. She hated him for it, but Jareth spoke the truth. Down here, she could be queen. But up there? She was just another girl from Chicago.

     Sarah closed her eyes and heard his voice.

     “But not down here, Sarah. Not to me.”

     She shivered. Good Lord. Sarah was in love with him. Only girls who are woefully in love with a man think stupid things like this, and it just so happened that Sarah loved Jareth in that horrific kind of way where you don’t want to admit that it’s true, in that way where your feelings warp like a veil to fit over your eyes. There was no hope in denying it, and perhaps nothing to be done about it; Sarah Williams was uncontrollably and irrevocably in love with Jareth the Goblin King. This fact was more certain than a fairytale starting with ‘once upon a time’ and more unavoidable than her next breath.

     The cold, hard truth was that Sarah blossomed at his smile, she reveled in his jokes, she yearned for his presence, and she felt warm at the idea of his happiness. She was more content with him than she had been anywhere else, with anyone else, ever .

     She clutched her face in the silence. Heavens above, Sarah loved him, and no amount of crying or fussing about the rules would change that fact, would it? 

     But at what cost?

     Sarah whimpered anyway and scrunched herself up in bed again. It wasn’t very comfortable to do that in jeans, but it was an outfit that made her feel like she wasn’t really here. If she closed her eyes and listened to the rain, Sarah could almost pretend that she was home, that her dad was just downstairs, and that Toby was, too. Almost. 

     Still, behind her eyes, she saw flashes of Jareth’s face. She imagined them kissing. Their hands, entwined. His bed. But she also saw images of him alone on his throne that stirred her insides to the point of jelly. 

     It was impossible. Sarah held the pillow to her chest and pressed her mind to recall all the memories of Toby and her father that she had so as to suppress the thoughts of the Goblin King. But the trouble was, Sarah knew she was forgetting someone– or more than one person. But who?

     “Momma,” she whispered to an imagined version of her mother. This woman wasn’t ravaged by drugs or fame or alcohol. This woman was an angel. Sarah spoke to this ghost as she opened her reddened eyes. “I won’t forget you,” she promised with determination. 

     If Jareth had a family, he would understand why this was so hard for her, and why it was wrong to ask a girl to forget everything for him. The fact that she had to choose between him and her life in the Aboveground was tearing her in two. But clearly, he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand because he didn't have a family to miss.

     Thunder rumbled in the distance. 

     This idea bothered her, too, of Jareth being alone without a family–almost as much as her missing her own family. Sarah rubbed the feeling of puffiness from her eyes as she imagined Jareth’s solitary life by comparing it to her own. Birthdays around goblins could hardly be as fulfilling as birthdays at a pizza parlor, could they? How old was he really? He didn’t even know! Did he even celebrate his birthday? These questions pained Sarah. She immediately felt bad for giving the cake away to Hoggle. 

     Jareth must have spent an innumerable amount of time by himself, in one way or another. Yes, she knew it was so. And in the midst of all that time alone, Sarah had reached out to him. In that park, in her bedroom, in her writing–it was her voice that broke the silence. When they had kissed the first time, she had seen things through his eyes, how she had offered her love up to him over and over, and how he had, bit by bit, allowed his heart to be taken by her for the sheer reason that –even within the desolate Underground–he would no longer have to be alone.

      All of this had happened. All of it was a mess.

     While she was deep in thought, there was a knock against her bedroom door. Sarah raised up her chin like a keen beagle and replied with teenage instinct. 

     “Oh, go away!” The girl wailed and buried her face back into her pillow. She regretted saying it as soon as it left her lips. She hadn’t meant it. Not really. But in any case, what did he want now? A gentle rumble of thunder reverberated against the palace walls, and a silence settled briefly between them.

     “Talk to me first,” Jareth replied firmly. His voice was muffled from behind the wall. And while she could have ignored him, she instead considered his offer, but there was an acute shame in admitting her feelings had changed. Worse yet, stubbornness was all she knew.

     Maybe he would just go away if she didn’t answer? That would mean no one needed to move. No one needed to admit anything. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?

     But….Did she want him to go away? No. Not really. Still, it felt awful to tell him otherwise. This was because to admit she wanted him to stay meant that he had won and that she had forgiven him for all the mean things he had said earlier. In other words, Sarah would look desperate and like a weak pushover.

     Is that what love is? Some kind of magic spell that makes you weak? That makes you lose all control over logic and reason? Sarah didn’t want to believe that, so she rolled over in her bed and pulled the blankets around herself like a cocoon; Sarah hoped it might shield her from making a decision.

     Then, there was a latching sound. A click. A groaning of something on hinges swinging open. It was so distinct that Sarah shot up in bed like she was rising from the grave.

     “H-Hey! I didn’t say you could come in! Jareth!” She exclaimed. Sarah found him standing in the doorway, wearing a silk robe and some silvery version of what Sarah understood to be pajamas. More strangely, he wasn’t wearing any shoes. She furrowed her brow at the image of him, once again surprised by just how normal he looked. 

     “You act as though I practically broke down the door,” Jareth replied callously, crossing his arms. Again, there was a pause as they studied each other. Sarah noted that there were murky circles beneath his eyes; he was exhausted– she could tell. But behind his tone, his face wasn’t as harsh as she had expected. There was a gentleness about him, something that was almost penitent.

     “Why are you here?” She asked, a hint more calmly. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

     He raised an angular eyebrow at her. “Of course I sleep,” he said, rubbing his cheek. It was the same cheek she had slapped just two days ago. Had it really only been two days in the Underground? Sarah felt like it had been a lifetime.

      “I simply couldn’t bear to hear you crying any longer,” he added.

     This gave Sarah pause. He didn’t want to hear her crying? It felt odd, that choice of words. But then, something inside of her clicked, as if a window had been opened.

     “Jareth…” Sarah sighed. She was touched and defeated, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

     Another rumble of thunder murmured around them.

     “Tomorrow, we’ll talk about the Aboveground and your family. I give you my word. Consider it my peace offering,” Jareth spoke softly. “But for now, let’s not fight. Just for the next few hours. No tears… Today was a good day, was it not?”

     Sarah found he was sincere.

     “It…it was.” Sarah was hesitant. It felt like dipping her foot in a pool.

     Sarah and Jareth regarded each other with the weary eyes of soldiers who have been fighting a battle for far too long. Then, in a slow, cautious motion, Jareth moved beside Sarah and sat down on her bed. She felt the weight of him on the mattress, like an exhale. They were shoulder to shoulder, each of them staring forward at her closet, not saying anything for a while. 

     “Maybe I’m not the best match for you,” he said quietly and out of nowhere. Sarah wasn’t sure what she was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. A new heaviness occupied her stomach, and Sarah felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle. She didn’t like where this was going, but she could tell he wasn’t finished so she held her tongue. 

     “Maybe it’s wrong that all of this happened. Us, I mean. Since the start, you’ve fought your feelings just as much as you felt them,” he stopped and chuckled. “You have always been such a fighter, you know. It’s one of the things I admired most about you. But it’s put us at odds, hasn’t it?”

     Sarah’s face felt warm, but a feeling of helplessness was overcoming her, too.

     “Jareth, no, I–”

     She stopped in her rambling as he curled an arm around her. Sarah could feel him looking at her, so she met his gaze and found him smiling.
     “I’d like to kiss you now,” he said. She nodded faintly and closed her eyes. 

     Their faces met. His hand was on her cheek, and then in her hair. It was warm, passionate–but brief. Like before, a numbing, warm static flowed over her, quieting all thoughts in her mind that didn’t belong to him.

     “Do you still love me, Sarah?” He asked her. Jareth moved his thumb over her chin. 

     “Yes,” she replied innocently, unable to lie to him then. He kissed her again. She felt his magic on her like a paralyzing flash of lightning. 

     “And I, you,” he whispered against her lips. When he pulled away, he leaned back on her bed like he had a few nights ago, propping himself up by his elbows. She stared down at him curiously.
     “Can I tell you something?” He asked her in a low, tired voice.

     “Yes,” she replied. He smiled at her then returned his gaze forward. Sarah noted he was resting his eyes on her music box.

     “Mortals and fae are like oil and water. I’ve scarcely met anyone in our position, only heard of them in myths. None of them great. But for better or worse,” he paused, as if these words did not come easily to him. “Sarah, I love you. I can’t undo any of that, nor would I want to. Do you?”

     “No,” she answered. “I don’t want to undo it. But I can’t just forget about my family and love you at the same time. It’s–” She halted, wanting to tell him it wasn’t fair once again while simultaneously knowing that wouldn’t go well. She settled on:

     “It’s hard.”

     A beat of silence. He was thinking, or trying to.

     With the gentleness of a whisper, Sarah felt his hand move over hers. He was attempting to interlock their fingers, that much was clear, and she decided to let him. Though, in all honesty, it was her who squeezed first and he who squeezed back. As if this satisfied him, Jareth brought her wrist up to his lips, kissed it, and set it back down.

     “Come here,” he told her. He meant, of course, that he wanted her to lay next to him. Sarah felt her face blush red as she glanced at him. “Oh, don’t look so worried,” he added, but didn’t elaborate in a way that was meaningful.

     She studied him. 

     “You’re a bit scary to me,” she admitted. This was the truth. Jareth was a full grown man, a fae with unlimited power, the gatekeeper of her dreams, and he had plenty of physical strength to make her life difficult. And yet, the only thing Jareth did in response to her words was take a breath. Sarah couldn’t tell whether it was an impatient one or not; she could only sense that he was sighing.

     “Aren’t you tired, Sarah?” The Goblin King asked her. Sarah thought this question was out of place, but she wrestled with it anyway.

     “Yes,” she agreed. 

     “Then come lay down,” he replied, gesturing for her to do so once again.

     Sarah blinked, considering briefly whether to fight him again.

     "Will you—will you promise not to do anything to me?” She asked quietly. 

     “I cannot make any promise like that, no,” Jareth replied with a tired chuckle. Sarah felt her heart racing again.

     “Why not?” She wondered.

     “Because words matter, Sarah,” he answered. The Goblin King didn’t sound angry or anything, nor did he sound sad about it. He simply sounded like he meant it.

     “Maybe I can sleep in another bed.” 

     He huffed a quiet puff of air out of his nostrils like he was amused.

     “That’s not how this works, Sarah.”

     Sarah raised both her eyebrows at him. This was objectively untrue , wasn’t it? Surely, there were other beds in the castle, in the kingdom? In fact there was his bed, wasn’t there? At that thought, Sarah realized that there were two ways to understand what he meant. It was so obvious she almost felt embarrassed. His intentions were always right there, plain as day. He had been proposing them from the start.

     If Jareth had wanted to hurt her, he would have done so already, wouldn't he? Yes, that would make sense. But he hadn't hurt her . It wasn’t as though he couldn’t have, but it was the fact that he didn’t want to that kept him from doing so. Sarah knew this now, and she would know it forever.

     The decision was final.

     Sarah, heart racing and face flushed, lay down beside Jareth. The white blankets loosened around her. They were shoulder to shoulder, then. Hand in hand. Both of them stared up at the canopy of her bed.

     “I need you to know that even if you spend all eternity angry with me, Sarah, I’d still be glad because an eternity by your side is still better than one without you.” 

     “I’m not mad at you,” she told him. It was natural as breathing. They looked at each other, not knowing who between them would be the one to move first. “I am scared…but–” She hesitated and squeezed his hand again.“I trust you,” she whispered, watching him in anticipation. Jareth stared at her fondly, but didn’t say a word.

     Instead, the Goblin King raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The room went dark. 

Chapter Text

Rule 16: Open The Door

Sarah had never been drunk before, but she imagined it must feel like this. She had no sense of time, and there was no way to know which way was up or down, or where her body ended and his began. In that velveteen darkness, Sarah could not see Jareth, nor did she have any need to.

This dance was not something a girl need see a man to do. 

This is how it happened.

It was dark. 

She heard their shared panting, and their short, breathless laughter as if from above. Most of the time, she knew her eyes were with his, watching–half-lidded and yielding. And when she didn’t have the strength to do that, she held onto him as he filled her with himself, allowing her gaze to rest in the ceiling–somewhere between where the stars in her vision glistened and the darkness of her canopy began…

o o o

Hours of talk, sometimes with his eyes closed and his ear securely pressed to her chest. Countless minutes of Sarah’s hands in hair, methodically lulling– and Jareth, listening to her words as intently as her heartbeat.

 He was surprised by how she talked so plainly now, like they’d known one another for a thousand years time. Like old friends, like eternal lovers. How quickly everything could change! Jareth felt as if there was never a time when he didn’t know her.

“Thank you for the birthday cake,” she said while tracing the intricate shape of his ear.

“You’re welcome,” he breathed, both half-asleep and half-awake. Had she ever said ‘thank you’ to him before? He didn’t know. But he liked this, too. He liked the way it sounded on her lips. It was nice to be appreciated.

“I’m sorry I didn’t eat it,” she whispered coyly. “But it was nice of you anyway.” Jareth smiled dreamily, imagining her blowing out a candle.

“Jareth?”

“Hmm?”

“I have a question. I know we said we wouldn’t talk about it but,” she started, then paused. He nuzzled her as sleepy permission. 

“What if I ate food from the Aboveground but lived here in the Underground with you?” She asked.

Jareth yawned groggily. “What ever for?” 

A part of him wondered if he had done a poor job of conjuring food she liked. Another part of him hoped this was a problem for later.

“If that’s what causes the memory loss, the food, I mean, but living in the Underground is what prevents the madness–then, what if we, I don’t know–my mom used to say ‘split the baby’?”

“Split the what?” Jareth opened both his eyes and beetled his eyebrows. 

“It’s a saying, Jareth. It means straddle the fence, or do half of one thing and half of another. One foot in, one out. Split the baby .”

Jareth wasn’t sure he was understanding. “Child sacrifice is not how my magic works, not even in a halfway sense, Sarah, we’ve been over this.”

“No, no. Listen,” she tapped her fingers on his shoulders like she was playing a silent piano. “What if I eat the food from the Aboveground to slow down forgetting my family, but I live here with you? Maybe, I could even visit them sometimes? I’d…I’d like to at least say goodbye.”

Jareth blinked away the drowsiness. When he realized what she was saying, initially, he felt a sense of pride at her cleverness. Only Sarah Williams could think of something to twist the rules in such a way to fit her needs. But then, he struggled with the logistics of her proposal. Could something like that even work? He looked up at her and tilted his head. She stared back at him wishfully, obediently.

Goddamnit, she was so beautiful. Did she even know what that did to him?

Jareth could not help it. There was an immediate possessiveness in his eyes, a hunger that stemmed from the fact that he didn’t want to share that perfect face with another soul ever again. They had only just recently joined together, and now, she wanted to leave again? Jareth imagined returning her to the Aboveground briefly and couldn’t bear the thought of it.

But it wasn’t all about his feelings.

The truth was he didn’t want to let her go back up there, at least, not for a while and for a few reasons. Yes, he had his very valid feelings, but also, he knew that extended periods in the Underground can do things to mortals–things he wanted and needed for her. Jareth knew better than most that this place had the power to make human beings immortal. 

But, it wasn’t an exact magic. There wasn’t a certain amount of days or quantity of food she’d need to eat. But eventually, surely in one hundred year’s time or so, she’d be like he was. That was how he understood it. But the math? Nobody knew the math.

Could it be done in spurts? He didn’t know. Could they mix fae food and Aboveground food without risk to her wellbeing? Again, he had never heard of such a thing. But the way she looked at him with gentle, trusting, pleading eyes, Jareth was reminded that in this way, he very well might be her slave.

“We could…give it a try,” he said reluctantly. Sarah hummed excitedly and pulled her arms around him.
“Oh, Jareth–thank you,” she kissed him. “Thank you, thank you!”

She peppered him between gratitudes with kisses on his shoulders; Jareth winced in her embrace. When she pulled back to kiss him properly on his lips, he watched her, searching for signs of something he didn’t know how to name. All he saw in her was joy. Somehow, this didn’t make him feel better.

The Goblin King watched Sarah pull away. With her eyes still closed, and with a wistful sigh, she fell back on the bed and nestled herself into the covers. He had never seen her so happy. Jareth watched as Sarah beamed with angelic glee as she reached her arms out to him.

“Sleep?” she asked him hopefully. He had no power to deny her. Jareth lay back down.

“I love you, Jareth.”

“And I, you,” he echoed. “More than anything.” His chest felt hollow. Jareth pulled her to him like he wanted to be sure that she wouldn’t disappear as soon as he closed his eyes…

o o o

The castle grumbled. Something boomed. It was louder than a clap of thunder had any right to be.

Jareth awoke with a sharp inhale. He raised his head to listen to the familiar cacophony of goblin cackling only to let his head back down on Sarah’s shoulder, hoping naively the trouble would stop all by itself. But when he heard it again, the palace walls trembled. Something had exploded down the hall. 

“ For the love of God,” Jareth mumbled into the crook of her neck. “What did they do now? Reinvent fire and gunpowder with dynamite?”

But really , Jareth wondered, was one day off too much to ask for around here? 

“What is it?” Sarah asked in a soft mixture between sleep and slurred speech. Jareth sighed. The morning light fell on her body the way paint belongs on canvas. He didn’t want to leave her yet. And if it were up to him, he never would.

“Go back to sleep, Sarah” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”

And the thing was, Jareth had really meant it. He pulled on his pajamas in record time, he ran his hands through his hair in lieu of brushing it–in fact, it may have been the first time in all of eternity he cared so little about his appearance.

All he had planned to do was find the goblins responsible for ruining his honeymoon, make a scene of sending them to an oubliette, cast a few angry spells, and get back to the woman he loved for breakfast in bed. And it would have worked out just fine if he wasn’t so tired. 

But he was. He was so tired, in fact, that he wasn’t thinking straight.

Jareth should have known to be more careful. He should have known it was strange that his goblin court was nowhere to be seen. He should have known that it had been a little over a year since they had played a trick on him. But with Sarah on his mind, Jareth groggily stomped through the halls, paying no attention at all to the goblins he didn’t see hiding in the ceiling or the ones brandishing their weapons in the shadows. All he felt was rage as the walls moaned from another blast.

“What in the hell…” Jareth muttered, rubbing the place between his eyes.

Perhaps Jareth’s biggest weakness was that he was so used to being the hammer that he forgot it was easy to become the nail. Perhaps he had no idea just how tired he was. Who is to say? Not us, in any case. All we can do is tell you how it happened. 

And this is how it did.

The Goblin King turned a sharp corner leading to his throne room. When he arrived, he stared at what he found with a scornful scowl.

“Oh my god, they’ve lost their minds,” he whispered. 

Where there had once been elaborate tapestries, now there was only a hole made of smoldering, craggled rocks. This elephant-sized breach left his castle open to the edge of the Labyrinth. Jareth gaped in horror and was beside himself in disbelief.

Holy hell in a handbasket, he was going to need more oubliettes. Maybe even another bog. Or two, or three…Jareth stared with boggled eyes at the scene before him, more perplexed with every second. What was he supposed to do now? Also, where was everyone?

It was during that moment when it happened. Jareth didn’t even see Ludo behind the door, mostly because he was too busy focusing on being mad. But the large beast simply walked up behind the Goblin King, a leg of unfinished ham bone in hand, and with a swift thwack to the back of his head, Ludo knocked Jareth out cold. 

The funny thing was, he stood there teetering for a moment, maybe for about four or so seconds, just swaying. Then, all at once, he crashed to the floor without a word.

“Jareth–sleep!” Ludo howled into the air. The beast waved the thigh bone high above his head as though it were a battle cry. 

At that, the room chittered with the exhilaration of countless, unruly and exuberant goblins.

“Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!” The goblins cheered. A throng of horned and helmeted creatures joined hands and danced in a circle around their unmoving king, chanting like they had won the war. 

“Cake for us!” They sang. “Cake for us!”

“Cake for King?” A separate, small voice asked. A feathery being with a tail and armor darted under the arms of the dancers and poked Jareth’s leg with the butt of his sword. “Cake for King Jareth?”

“Cake now!” Another chortled.

From behind the throne, Hoggle had watched it all. He backed into a corner of the room and pressed his back to the crumbling wall. The dwarf’s face was white as death.  

Did they kill Jareth? Hoggle couldn’t bear to know. He imagined the real consequences of his actions for both realities for the first time. If Jareth was dead, the kingdom would surely fall into chaos. If Jareth was alive, then Hoggle would pay for these crimes with his life. Ludo and Sir Didymus did not seem to notice Hoggle’s new fear. But it was all the little man could feel.

“Onward, now dear calvary!” Sir Didymus exclaimed. He was pointing toward the doorway through which Jareth had come. “Before we can celebrate with treats, we must save the princess! Hence, my dear fellows, victory awaits no man!” 

The goblins cheered merrily and darted about, some aimlessly, some forward. Hoggle was hyperventilating, unable to move from the corner, as Ludo and Sir Didymus followed the crowd in hot pursuit. 

Chapter Text

Hoggle could swear the air was ringing with the familiar whine of an Aboveground church bell. Whether this bell was for him or for Jareth was still up for debate. All he knew was that he felt like his heart might stop at any moment.

The dwarf clutched at his throat and studied Jareth’s form lying prostrate on the cold, stone floor. Hoggle did this by staring through the bones of Jareth’s throne as though they were prison bars. The good news was that there was no blood that Hoggle could see, but the bad news was there was no movement, either. Whether he was alive was unknown to Hoggle. Jareth simply lay there, face down against the floor, like a fish that had been stunned.

“Oh, God,” Hoggle sighed. “Damn me, Jareth. And damn you, too for this.”

In the newly quiet space, the little dwarf waddled over to King Jareth, but he had to move slowly. Hoggle was having a hard time seeing straight, and the room felt like it was spinning. If he wasn’t careful, Hoggle worried me might lose his lunch over Jareth’s corpse.

“Yer… Majesty?” Hoggle’s voice croaked. The regret Hoggle felt about this whole ordeal was imminent. How did he ever think he could pull something like this off and nothing would go wrong? It was idiocy, sheer idiocy. Maybe Jareth had been right. Maybe it was shameful for Hoggle to lose his head over a girl who was naive enough to call him friend. It would be his undoing.

There was no response from the body on the floor. So, Hoggle studied him for other signs of life. He couldn’t see any breathing, and he wouldn’t be caught dead touching Jareth for any reason. But he watched for what felt like a long time and didn’t see the rising and falling of shoulders. Under all that hair, he supposed it was hard to tell. But he tried to see. The room felt shaky. And from above, a rock fell and startled him.

“Oh!” Hoggle stumbled backwards. The dwarf clutched at his chest and looked around for signs of help, finding none. If Jareth was dead, it didn’t matter much right now, he reasoned–not if he didn’t get Sarah out of here nothing mattered. Hoggle looked at the open wall and considered making a run for it. But then, he heard the crashing of glass one room over. The time to choose was now.

It was always a fight between fear, which he knew like the moles on the back of his hand, and loyalty, which was as hard as memorizing the stars. The truth was that Hoggle was too far up this creek to turn back now, wasn’t he? Hard or not, it didn’t matter.

Hoggle would have to finish what he came to do, and that meant finding Sarah and leading her back out of this God-forsaken labyrinth–back to the world in which she well and truly belonged –once and for all.

o o o

Sarah stretched awake like a cat tired from sunbathing. As she did, waves of memories flooded back to her, all of last night.

Was it all a dream ? It would have been a very nice dream. Then she reached over and patted the other side of her twin sized bed expectantly. She was surprised to find that the mattress was cold.

“Jareth?” She called. When there was no answer, Sarah sat up. She scanned the room like an owl and pulled the sheets around herself with haste. Where was he? From outside her door, she heard the distant rumblings of goblin ruckus, but Sarah couldn’t remember if he had said anything to her about leaving. The only proof that anything had happened was the fact that Sarah was sleeping without clothes. An odd feeling of embarrassment washed over her.

“It was real,” she whispered to herself, eyes wide. The realization of what she had done began to dawn on her.

“Oh my God,” she muttered. She rubbed her face and looked around. 

Through the feelings of giddiness, it still didn’t sit right with her that Jareth had left Sarah to wake up alone. After all of that. It wasn’t like there was any rule against it, but it felt…It just felt wrong .

Maybe he had gone to get breakfast? Sarah swung her legs over the side of the bed as she pondered it. He was a king, perhaps he had a sudden call to duty? It would be bad to think rashly. And, in any case, she found once again that she had to pee. There was no bathroom in this bedroom he had made for her, so Jareth’s whereabouts would have to be investigated later.

Sarah was back in her jeans and t-shirt. For some reason, she couldn’t find anything else to wear. But that was alright, she reasoned, because Jareth’s bathroom had that charmed closet, and surely, she would find what she needed in there.

Still last night had felt like some sort of trance. A perfect trance. Sarah thought of this as she all but floated her way through the castle. His chambers were only two hallways away from her own, and she made it there in no time, the thoughts of their bodies in the dark still fresh on her mind.

Oh well, Sarah reckoned. Maybe Jareth was in the middle of some kind of urgent matter and that's why he wasn’t there this morning? Sarah hoped so. He would probably clear all this up later, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bit hurt about his absence. Last night had been…

Sarah paused, her hand on the handle to his room.

“I’m just being silly,” she assured herself. “Everything is fine.” 

He loves me.

After all, he had stayed with her for hours after they had…It wasn’t as though he had been cold. She nodded to feel more confident about this, forced a grin, and walked inside…

o o o

This time, his bathroom felt so different. She wasn’t afraid of anything. Not even his tub. Sarah ran her hands over the differently colored glass and metal bottles, searching for her favorite scents; she was quick to pick one out: lavender and vanilla.

On a whim, Sarah decided to run herself a bath. Hopefully, Jareth wouldn’t mind. If he could disappear without notice, then she could take some time for herself, couldn’t she?

“I guess I’m the lady of the house now,” she said matter-of-factly to a tub full of newly poured bubbles. It felt nice to say that. It felt like something a lady and not a girl would say. 

“Better get used to it.” She sighed while stepping into the frothy waters. 

It was nice. Sarah was aware in some unspoken way that this water and the soap had been magical in one way or another. Not only did she feel tingly, but there was this faint hint of music in the air. If she squinted, she could nearly make out his voice. It made her miss him more.

“Sarah, girly, come on.” She pressed her cheeks with her bubbly hands. “Get a grip. Keep your cool,” she coached herself. When that didn’t help, she sang to pass the time. Though, if she was being honest, she didn’t want to take very long in here. It was hot. She was hungry, and she was more than curious to find out where Jareth had gone. It was eating her up more than she could stand to admit. 

o o o

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sarah stared doubtfully into the closet. With crossed arms, she tilted her head back and stared down at it over her nose. Was this Jareth’s doing? Was this some kind of joke? Sarah tried to make it make sense but found, unfortunately, that she couldn’t. Her instinct to be angry was nulled by her surprise and her memories of last night.

“There's got to be something else for me to wear,” she mumbled and closed the doors. This was impractical for dealing with goblins, wasn’t it? And wasn’t it just a little bit over the top? Sarah opened the doors again, hoping for a different result. She didn’t find one.

The closet had dictated the ballgown. Yes, that one– from when they had danced the first time. White, shimmery chiffon and satin, gold ornaments and puffy sleeves–the whole nine yards. It was so poofy it hardly fit in the closet. It bulged outwards like a bouquet of chrysanthemums in an obviously too-small vase. Sarah stared at it with annoyance and raised her hands to the air as though Jareth were listening.

“Regular clothes please?” She asked the unresponsive ceiling. “I liked that green outfit? What about that one?”

 One more try of the doors revealed her fate; it was this dress or nothing. 

Sarah could hear him in the back of her mind.

“Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave…” 

Do as he said? Was this something he was saying , though? Sarah pondered this question in a damp towel. What other options did she have? 

o o o

Sir Didymus, mounted atop Ambrosius, commanded the legion of goblins forward. He was both righteous and indomitable.

“The princess must be through here!” He instructed, pointing at the wall-sized marble doors that separated the group from Jareth’s bedroom chambers. The goblins behind Sir Didymus scratched their heads.

“Doubt it!” Replied a goblin. For some reason he only had one eye open as he stroked his little beard.

“What on earth are you getting at, good sir? It’s clear as day. The princess mustn’t be anywhere else but through these marble doors. We’ve searched the whole castle from top to bottom. It’s just the way it’s got to be.”

Everything Sir Didymus said was so self-assured that it was nearly impossible for the goblins to disagree. But their lifetime of service to their king had prohibited them from taking another step further.

“He don’t let nobody in there, mister!” Another goblin shouted. “Not even no ladies!”

“Yeah, nobody!” A third agreed. “Or else they get the bog for certain.”

A gaggle of laughter emerged as someone coughed and said: “Bog lady!”

From his saddle, Sir Didymus waved dismissively at them.

“I understand your apprehensions!” he decried. “But your intellect is lacking, dear fellows. Think now. Clearly. Once again, it is imperative we find the princess to earn your cake. She must be in there, I say. And that is what you want, is it not? Your cake?”

The goblins looked at each other, confused. Their hearts were torn. Go in there and get bogged. Stay out here and have no cake. What a choice that was.

“Save—Princess—Sarah!” Ludo cried and hit his chest. 

“Right, good sirs. For Serah of Souffle ! ” agreed Sir Didymus with zeal. “Onwards, soldiers!”

Sir Didymus pivoted Ambrosius back to face the stone wall and reached out for the handle. But right before his hand touched the door, something amazing happened.

Sarah Williams, dressed in wedding white and not expecting to see another soul, unlocked the door herself. She had to gather her dress in fistfuls to move with any grace, so her eyes were watching the ground.

The room fell into a sudden, hushed silence as she entered, for to goblins, a woman this pretty deserved such a thing. Someone dropped their sword, completely and utterly entranced. Sarah snapped her head up at the sound. The shock of seeing them was plain across her face.

Chapter Text

Rule 18: When It Rains, It Pours

Jareth lay face down against the floor, dreaming in strange, wordless visions. Toby crying, a single peach tumbling out of his hand and bruising on the edges of his Labyrinthine steps, Sarah with him in the dark. All of these things haunted Jareth as his eyes snapped open. He gasped for air like he’d been holding his breath and coughed on hay that had somehow found its way to the back of his throat.

“Unngh,” the Goblin King groaned as he sat up from the floor. He clutched at his head. It hurt something awful, and there were stars in the corners of his eyes. Jareth moaned under his breath.

Had someone….had someone hit him in the back of his head? A single wincing touch behind his ear confirmed it. Jareth had been knocked unconscious with something blunt and heavy.

But why?

A flash of possibilities ran behind his eyes. None of them good. Rage filled his body like fire in a hearth. 

There would be hell to pay, damn little goblins.

What kind of tomfoolery was this? A prank gone wrong? A coup? At that, his mind darted to Sarah.

Clearly, his goblins had gone off the rails, which Jareth could handle with a healthy amount of bogging–but Sarah? She was completely defenseless against this lot’s antics, pitiful as Jareth thought they were. He studied the broken wall and listened to the dripping of the slowing rain. By the looks of things, their numbers were vast. That hole was huge. Damnit.

Jareth pushed himself up to his feet, instantly sober. 

The next thought on his mind were his clothes. It wouldn’t take long, and dirty pajamas wouldn’t do for a round of punishment, he realized, so he snapped his fingers to change. It was much better to put his subjects in their place while wearing his battle regalia, a dark cape and black boots. Jareth thought so anyway. Someone had to set the tone around here. He smiled as he thought of cruelty with style, relishing in his plans to set these wrongs right. 

Then, with haste, he snapped his gloved fingers again. This time, an orb appeared.

“Show me Sarah,” he commanded. She appeared clearly amidst the glass, wide-eyed and frightened. The instinct to find that beautiful was still in him. Jareth tilted his head to see a better picture. “There you are,” he said.

o o o

“H–hello?” Sarah waved at the crowd of no less than one hundred goblins in the hallway. She shifted her weight uncomfortably. She had never seen so many of them before, and a part of her wanted to close this door and hide. But then again, if Sarah planned on being here as queen, that felt rather immature, didn’t it? A queen doesn’t run away from their subjects. At least, this one doesn’t. Sarah decided it would be wise to stand her ground.

“Hellooo!” They echoed back like unruly school children. It was loud.

“Would ya looka that dress,” another voice whelped. “Only a princess would wear that in here!”

“It must be her!” A third voice chortled gleefully. The chatter became rambunctiously elated. 

 Sarah tried to look at all of them and found this uncomfortable due to their nobby noses and bruised flesh, so instead she darted her eyes over the room and found, much to her relief, the familiar faces of Ludo and Sir Didymus at the front of this small, but formidable, army.

“Oh my gosh,” she touched her mouth with her hand. “What are you guys doing here?”  She was both excited and nervous, so she added with a forced laugh, “I– I didn’t know we were hosting the whole Goblin City this morning.”

“We—save—friend!” Ludo said. He waddled his way toward her, just beyond the frontmost line of goblins, and when he was there, the beast offered her both of his bulky paws, which Sarah accepted like a handshake. It was nice to see him again, it really was.

“Oh,” Sarah was surprised, but offered him a kind smile. “Who are we saving?”

Sir Didymus scoffed.

“Why– you , my dear! Don’t be preposterous,” Sir Didymus proclaimed. 

“Me?” Sarah replied, confused as ever. 

Sir Didymus sighed and moved his reins so that Ambrosius would step over a few goblins. He wanted to make his way in front of her. But Sarah, not able to help it, leaned down to pet Ambrosius briefly.

“What a noble steed you are,” she beamed at him. “Saving me from loneliness.”

“Enough of that. Ambrosius is pampered as it is,” Sir Didymus scolded.

The dog whined with displeasure. Sarah wanted to keep petting, but decided to give him a final pat for good luck between his ears. What was this hurry all about, she wondered?

“Why?” She raised an eyebrow. “Be serious. What is this?”

“You must make haste, fair maiden. That brute will be up any minute now, and we’ve got to get you out of here,” Sir Didymus concluded. 

The brute? Sarah’s face contorted in confusion. Was there a monster in the castle she didn’t know about? Immediately, her heart worried for Jareth. Is that why he was gone? Was he dealing with a monster? It was a new feeling, very green, to worry for him. It felt so different than being mad at him, but it was equally as heavy in her chest. It was like a little seed had sprouted in her heart and was making its way up to the surface; she wanted to see him, she wanted him to be OK. But before Sarah could respond, a goblin jeered.

“Cake now!” 

“You promised!” A different, tiny voice shrieked impatiently. Sarah felt something budge up against her dress, and when she looked down, it was the smallest goblin she’d ever seen, hugging her tightly. “Cake lady,” he hummed as though she were a teddy bear. He was only about the size of her foot. It would have been heartwarming if it wasn’t so befuddling. 

Sarah raised her eyebrows at him. “Cake lady?” She wondered aloud. What in the world did that mean? Then, looking out at the congregation, she continued. “What’s going on? Where is Jareth?” 

The room overflowed with audible chatters and confusion. Sarah was aware that the tone of the talk was fused with disappointment.

“...Cake?” A voice asked again. “Now?”

Sarah did not appreciate the way this hallway was beginning to feel. The murmurs from the goblins sounded more disgruntled than they did confused. She was reminded of how they had chased her on top of the armoire that one time under the guise of helping her get dressed. Maybe she was on the precipice of something like that again, of their ‘helping’. Yes, probably that was it, wasn’t it? She could feel it in the air, in the way their eyes watched her. This was mischief no doubt. Sarah shivered. She had to be careful.

“Sir Didymus?” Sarah turned her head to look at him. She tried to sound composed.

“My lady?” He bowed.

“Where is Jareth?” Sarah’s voice was more frantic than she had wanted it to be.

“Fear not, dear friend, the brute has been swiftly neutralized.” 

“What?!” Sarah was frightened. Her mind raced. She raised her head to look out at the goblins again searching them for signs of blood or of battle, then, finding none, she returned her gaze to Sir Didymus who was nodding proudly to himself. The urge to find Jareth was going stronger with every strident beat of her racing heart.

The goblins had started to heckle, calling for things like ‘Cake now!’ and ‘Food! Food!’. In addition to being anxious, Sarah was beyond confused. 

Why did they want cake so badly? And where could someone even find that much cake to feed them all? Where was Jareth? 

The noise made it hard to think. 

What would Jareth do? No– No…He wasn’t here. Sarah would have to handle this on her own for now.

All the same, what would the Queen of Goblins do, she wondered? 

A valiant thought, but it led nowhere. Could one manage goblins the way one babysits children? Or is it closer to being an elementary school principal? Or a general in battle? She glanced at Ludo and Sir Didymus who looked at her expectantly. Then from the corner of her eye, she saw movement; it was Hoggle. Sarah had never been so happy to see a familiar face. Ludo and Sir Didymus were lovely, but Hoggle had his head on straight. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be him.

She watched with relief as he galloped around the corner. Surely, he would have the answers. 

“Hoggle!” She called over the crowd and their voices. 

Hoggle met her gaze, and as he did, he opened his mouth to speak, but found that he was out of breath. So instead, he raised a trembling finger to indicate he needed a moment. 

“Don’t worry. I’m coming!” She assured him. This hallway was long, perhaps the length of a theater stage, but she was determined. 

 Sarah glanced down at the mass of goblins and gave them a warm grin. “Excuse me,” she said sweetly. They would have to part like the sea so she could move. “I am the cake lady. Pretty please, may I come through?” She asked again in her kindest voice. 

“Ohhh,” the goblins replied, awestruck by her beauty and grace–but also by her mentioning of pastries. They backed away from her with reverence and watched her with eager eyes as she approached the dwarf. Ludo and Sir Didymus followed suit.

“Thank you,” she curtsied at them. Another heartfelt ‘aaah’ filled the air, as did the smell of her perfume. Their mouths were watering. Some were biting their hungry lips.

It took a while in that massive gown, but once in front of Hoggle, Sarah knelt down dutifully, furrowing her brow when she took in the image of her muddied and battered friend. Ludo and Sir Didymus looked at each other confusedly from behind her and shrugged their shoulders.

“Goodness, Hoggle, what happened to you?” Sarah touched the tattered shirt on his shoulder with a delicate hand. “You look awful.”

Hoggle winced, clearly stung to be called ugly in any capacity–especially by Sarah– but he was also struck by their complete difference in appearance. Sarah looked perfect. Angelic, even. There was no doubt about that. All she needed now was a crown and a veil and she could float off into the clouds. And Hoggle, well, he looked…there also wasn’t any time to think about that right now.

At the same time, the goblins had begun to realize she wasn’t making good on what they thought was her offer of sweet treats. As a result, there was more jeering from behind them. It wasn’t kind.

“That’s not right!” said a goblin.

“Yeah!” hollered another.

“Stinking, lying no-cake lady!”

“Boooo!” A band of them brattled. Someone threw a tomato against the wall with a heavy splat.

Hoggle’s eyebrows beetled.

 “Come on, missy, this ain’t the time.” The dwarf began to pull Sarah with urgency. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

“Yes, onward!” Sir Didymus nodded. Ludo bellowed in agreement. Sarah tried to reason with them, to ask once more for Jareth, but Hoggle wouldn’t hear it.

“We’ve got to go. Now !” Hoggle insisted, pulling her with such force she couldn’t help but follow. Sarah, stumbling, had to pick up her dress with her free hand to run. 

“But where are we going?” She asked, frustrated. “Why are we running?”

When she asked, the answer became obvious. She had given chase, you see, and the whole army of goblins who had been watching like hungry hyenas, raised up their hands and rasped from their chapped lips like a flag had been lowered at the starting line of a race.

If she was running, that meant no cake. If there was no cake, that was treachery!

It was a full charge ahead—a hungry, screaming stampede. One should know better than to give chase in front of a group of goblins.

But Sarah and Hoggle and Ludo and Sir Didymus had done just that. And it wasn’t about the cake now, not for the goblins. It was about the hunt.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder. Now she knew why they were running.

 Just beyond Ludo, who was shaking the ground with every pace, she watched with wide eyes at the mob behind them. It was chittering, squealing madness. Their swords were pointed forward, their eyes were boggling out from under their helmets. There was violent squealing. Sarah realized that this could be very, very bad. They would have to pick up the pace.

And so they did. But, the hallways were long. Very long. And Sarah was running out of steam.

“This way!” Hoggle directed them around a sharp corner. Then another. And then a third. How many hallways did this darned place have?

And finally, after briefly looking over his shoulder to make sure the goblins couldn’t see them from where they stood, Hoggle pushed Sarah back into an alcove in the wall that boasted a large painting of Jareth beneath two sets of drapes. Hoggle’s grubby hands began to draw the curtains to shroud her as he ushered the rest of the band of merry men to follow suit.

“Shhh!” He whispered. 

“Right,” Sir Didymus agreed. 

“Shut up!” Hoggle growled.

“Apologies,” Sir Didymus replied unquietly. Ludo groaned. 

They all huddled together behind the curtain, backs pressed to the wall, and waited. It was silent, save for their racing heartbeats.

It didn’t take long. The goblins mindlessly trampled past in twenty seconds' time, not seeing Sarah’s or anyone’s feet beneath the curtain, which, if Sarah was reading the room correctly, seemed to be a kind of miracle in itself.

Thank goodness , Sarah thought. That was close. And when they were gone, the dwarf carefully fingered the curtain open to peek outside.

“So? What dost thou see?” Sir Didymus asked in a voice not small at all. Sarah shushed him again.

“Please, Sir Didymus, you must be quiet. It’s…valiant, to be quiet,” she tried.

“Shh!” Hoggle hissed. Then, after a pause, “The coast is clear.”

They filed out from behind the curtains, one by one, looking left and right, seeing no one. Hoggle let out a shaky sigh, then reached for Sarah’s hand again. 

“Come on,” he urged her.

She was pulled a few paces forward before she tugged back on his hand. Hoggle, exasperated, looked back at her. Ludo almost ran over Sir Didymus in the process.

“But why?” She pressed, suddenly bold. “No. I’m not moving. Nobody has told me what’s going on. I don’t understand.”

“There ain’t no time!” He shouted without looking at her. 

“There is time,” Sarah replied indignantly. “Please, Hoggle. Tell me why we’re leaving? What’s happened? Are you alright? Where is Jareth? You’re scaring me.”

It was the first time Hoggle wondered if Sarah might be dense. The dwarf looked frantically behind them, then back to Sarah. But when he saw the plain confusion in her eyes, a graven shadow fell over Hoggle’s features. It was as though he saw a ghost.

“Oh no,” he whispered, letting go of her hand and going pale.  “Are ye sayin’-- you don’t remember? Your…the Aboveground?”

Perhaps he had been too late after all.

“What?” Sarah was almost insulted as much as she was confused. “Of course I remember.”

This was mostly true. As Sarah pressed her mind, she realized that she couldn’t fully recall the name of her stepmother, which might have been a blessing and a curse. Some things, it seemed, her memory was more eager to let go of over others.

“Then you should know this is yer’ chance, Sarah!” Hoggle cried, taking her hand and dragging her again. He was hankering to round another corner. “Before Jareth wakes up. We’ve got to get you out of here, now. Out of the Labyrinth before you forget for–”

Hoggle had stopped. Or rather, he had fallen down after he had run into a familiar pair of knees.

 Jareth was there, arms crossed, looking as handsome and as wicked as ever. Sarah felt her heart skip a beat when their eyes met. 

“Well,” the Goblin King began with some politeness and charm. “It seems I have a nasty case of déjà vu.”

He was talking to Hoggle. Jareth gestured down the hall, where the sounds of goblins clattering and screeching could be heard to the strained ear. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

“Jareth,” Sarah said his name like a sigh. She was happy to see that he was alright, physically anyway.  Jareth flashed her a coy smile before returning his gaze downward, as if he was eager to get to the business of interrogating Hoggle. But there was a hint of pain to his head movements which made Sarah curious. 

“Are you alright?” Sarah asked him right as he moved to accost the dwarf. He halted. Then, Jareth met her gaze once again, lips parted. It looked like he was not used to hearing such a question, or being interrupted, or both. He raised both his eyebrows at her as she added, “Where did you go? What’s going on? I was worried when I woke up and you weren’t there.” 

Jareth looked left, then right, as if searching awkwardly for an answer in the air. He was well and truly speechless, it seemed, at the prospect of being asked whether he was well.

“I’m fine as ever,” he replied, trying to smile at her with confidence again so he could get back to being a vengeful overlord. But Sarah wasn’t having it. It was something in his eyes.

“No. I need to know what happened to you,” Sarah demanded, taking a step toward him. “You look…I don’t know. Off? And they said you were, what was it?” Sarah looked back at Sir Didymus and gestured at him. 

“Neutralized with force!” The foxy creature nodded.

“Yes, that. What does that mean ?” Sarah returned to the Goblin King. He looked down at her with wide eyes. When she touched his hands, his gaze softened. “Look at me. Why did you leave?” She asked. For that moment, it felt like all the other eyes faded away from the room. It felt as though they were alone, even though they weren’t. 

“I heard a noise,” he began softly. His eyes were on her only. “I went to the throne room and found the wall broken. Someone hit me over the head and when I woke up I…”

“What?!” Sarah exclaimed, squeezing his hands. “You mean you–you were knocked out?”

Jareth’s cheeks warmed to the color of a rosy preach. It was strange, being fawned over by her in front of his subjects. He didn’t know if he liked it yet. It felt like wading into a pool for the first time as you get used to the waters.

“Well, I did wake up,” he tried to explain. But it didn’t matter; the train of Sarah’s rage had left the station. Sarah turned round to face the band of three creatures behind her.

“You tried to kill Jareth?!?” Sarah was screaming. The Goblin King tilted his chin back at her tone. 

Ludo raised his shoulders, Sir Didymus shrugged, and Hoggle cowered. Jareth watched Sarah, utterly dumbfounded. 

“Why?!” She cried. Then, Sarah began to stammer. “What were you thinking?!” 

Jareth, sensing that he needed to intervene, stepped forward and cleared his throat. He touched her wrist. When their eyes met, Sarah inhaled, aware that this was his way of saying: let me take it from here. But she was also aware that she wasn’t done being angry. It was confusing. Sarah let out a shaky exhale. Would it be wise to let him take over this conversation? Probably. 

“But…You’re ok?” She asked again. Jareth raised his eyebrows at her.

“Better now than ever,” Jareth replied warmly. Sarah didn’t have any ideas on what to do, then, so she offered him a nod. Jareth took this as permission and returned to the band of merry men.

“Is this little debacle your doing, Higgle?” The Goblin King asked, attempting to reclaim his confidence. 

“No.” Hoggle fell back, already shaking. 

Ludo groaned in a beastly way, which startled Sarah. The creature had thrown his arm between Jareth and Sarah, acting as a fuzzy, beefy barrier. To this, Jareth furrowed his angular and elegant eyebrows, revealing his forehead wrinkles. 

“First coup d'etat?” Jareth joked, making sure to meet Sarah’s gaze. “Poor chap doesn’t know when he’s beat.”

Sarah had to place her hand on the creature's arm, and say, “What’s wrong, Ludo?” 

“Bad–Man!” The beast groaned in reply. He was referring to Jareth. Sarah didn’t know what to say, other than to assure him it wasn’t true.

“No, dear girl. Don’t be fooled. Sir Ludo is quite right in his way. Jareth is a king most vile!” Sir Didymus chimed in, brandishing his sword. “Don’t you remember last time? Only a coward refuses to fight! Show me your hands if you truly be a man! On guard!”

Jareth’s eyes narrowed. His patience was waning.

Before Sarah had a chance to think on how she might solve this escalating mess, the Goblin King did it for her.

“I’m sure you’ll understand. We need a minute, just us three” he said, placing a hand over his heart. “If you two would be so kind.”

Then, with a sudden tilt of his head, the air whirled with electricity as the floor tiles fell out from beneath Ludo, Sir Didymus, and Ambrosius. They dropped helplessly downwards like tumbling broomsticks and were sucked into the darkness. And, before Sarah or anyone had time to hear a scream, the tiles reappeared in place. Hoggle was still on the ground, shivering. Jareth chuckled to himself in a way that seemed to say: that never gets old.

A beat of silence. Hearts racing. What the hell was going on around here, she wondered?

“Hello, Sarah,” Jareth’s warm voice pulled her eyes to him. He had chosen to briefly ignore the issue of Hoggle to smile at her pleasantly. “Before I forget to say it. You look lovely. Almost as lovely as earlier.”

Sarah felt her face flush hot. Now it was she who forgot there were other matters at hand, if only for a moment. How could he do that? 
“Uhhm–Thank you,” she said with a small voice. His smile deepened. Then, feeling flustered, she attempted to reclaim the proper balance of her outrage. “But, what did you do to my friends?!” 

The Goblin King raised both his eyebrows, as if surprised by her tone. 

“Nothing at all, Sarah. They are simply back at the beginning of my Labyrinth. I’m sure they’ll be back in time for tea, seeing as what they’ve done to my poor maze,” Jareth replied with a hint of fatigue. “No need to look so worried,” he added with a hint of playfulness for good measure. 

Sarah didn’t detect a lie in him, but she was still unsure about his approach. But before she could get a word in, he went first again.

“Tell me, do you have any idea why your friends seem so intent on killing me?” He was newly impatient. Sarah could tell in a sixth sense sort of way that Jareth was actually speaking to Hoggle. It was all between the lines. 

“I–I don’t know,” she answered honestly. 

“No,” Jareth agreed with Sarah in a low, sensuous tone. He took her hand in his when she wasn’t looking, though it felt out of place to Sarah, and he brought her fingers to his lips. The kiss was tingly, but it also felt like two wrong chords on a piano. Something wasn’t right. “No, Sarah. I know you don’t know. But you know someone who does.”

Hoggle was still there, looking like an injured and cornered animal as he stared back at Jareth, white as a sheet. It was as though he could not move. Sarah was immediately worried for him. Then, like a lightbulb in her mind, Sarah remembered what she had said two days ago.

“If I’m going to beat Jareth this time, I’m going to need all the help I can get,” she had told him. In many ways, all of this trouble–if it were true that Hoggle had risen up the army and fought to bring Ludo and Sir Didymus to her rescue–then it had all been, at least in part, Sarah’s fault. 

“Oh, God,” Sarah whispered. “Jareth…I–” 

But she was interrupted.

“I ain’t had nothin’ to do with this!” Hoggle whimpered from the ground. The lie was so obvious you could almost see it. The Goblin King let go of Sarah’s hand.

“Oh,” Jareth feigned surprise and touched his chin. “I see. Yes, that would be stupid, wouldn’t it? Betraying me? Especially when you know this ends with the bog, perhaps drawn, quartered and bogged in your case. No, no, I know you wouldn’t, Heggle. That would be idiotic.”

Drawn and quartered? Bogged? The room had all but chilled ten degrees.

Hoggle stammered.

“Heh–Yer Majesty I–was just bringing Sarah back to your–”

Jareth clicked his tongue.

“That’s enough now,” Jareth ordered. He was counting on his fingers. “Time for honesty. You staged a coup, you took my lovely Sarah, and then you tried to lead her back to the Aboveground? Now, now, Hedgewort. That’s more than high treason. That’s insanity.” He shook his head. “You must really want the bog, don’t you? You nasty little fiend.”

Sarah felt the guilt growing in her middle. Sure, Hoggle had messed up. Big time. But…He had done it for the right reasons. Being drawn quartered and bogged…To kill Hoggle–it was–

“Please, Your Majesty–I can’t,” Hoggle’s eyes were watering. “Not the bog. Not that. Please. Not the Eternal Stench, I–”

“Jareth,” Sarah called to him instinctively. The sound of her voice echoed over the walls like marbles falling on the floor. “Isn’t there some other way? What he did was wrong, really wrong. I’m mad at him too, but…” Sarah pressed her lips into a line as if to tell him she wanted him to be serious with her. “But is murder the only option? He’s still my friend.”

“Some friend he is,” Jareth scoffed.

But Sarah, still loyal in part to Hoggle, was determined. To make this point, she stepped over and took Jareth's hands, as if physical intimacy and the profession of friendship would be a good enough defense against a Goblin King’s rage.

“I love you, Jareth, but you’re scaring me a little,” she pleaded. He studied her hands, then her white shoulders and her fervent eyes.

“I am?” Jareth sounded intrigued. 

“Yes.” Sarah’s breath was shaky.

Then, very slowly, like a serpent, Jareth brought her hands up to his face. He didn’t kiss them, but he did rest his chin on her fingers. The Goblin King tilted his head and rested on her like her hands were a pillow. Then, with a small smile on his face, he spoke in a whisper.

“I am scary, Sarah.”

She messed up her face in distaste.

“That’s…what a horrible thing to say!” Sarah exclaimed. He frowned.

“It’s the truth,” Jareth spoke levelly. “Fearing me is part of the deal, you know. A deal to which you agreed.”

“Yes, but–it’s not like it’s black and white,” she insisted. “There’s got to be a middle ground here.” 

“Not this time,” Jareth answered.

Hoggle’s face was a mask of fear. He dared not move an inch. 

 “You’re not listening, Jareth. All of this, it’s sort of my fault. I asked Hoggle for help because I was afraid two days ago, but I’m not anymore, Jareth–not really.”

Jareth’s surprise was evident. More than shock, there was something akin to pain on his face.

“ You asked for this?” He questioned her. There was something nefarious beneath the surface of his words, like a geyser grumbles before it erupts.

Oh no, Sarah worried. I don’t want him to think I wished him dead. That’s not what I meant by ‘taking responsibility’...

Damnit.

Sarah pressed her hands to his chest because it felt like the grown up thing to do.

“No. Please, don’t look at me like that,” she cried. His expression softened only slightly. She continued, “I didn’t ask for a coup, or murder– I only asked for help. But that was before I decided. And I’ve decided now. I want to stay here, with you, Jareth, by your side–just like we talked about. But you can’t punish Hoggle because he did what I asked. You know that’s not fair!”

Sarah flinched at herself. Hoggle held his head in his hands, waiting for his fate.

Damnit again , she thought. Wrong choice of words . Jareth read her regret like a bad poem and scowled.

“Dear God, not this again. I thought we were finally over this hurdle,” Jareth groaned in protest, but he did not move away from her. “So you think he can just, what? Attempt to murder the king and have high tea and biscuits in the throne room as a reward? Are you mad, Sarah? Can you imagine what kind of message that would send to the kingdom?” 

“No,” she admitted. She glanced at Hoggle, who was still too petrified to go anywhere, then back to Jareth. “But I’m not letting you draw, quarter and throw him in the bog!” She insisted, as protective as ever.

Jareth, looking down at her hands then back to her eyes, took a long breath. She knew this was the last thread of patience he had. It was taking everything in him to not explode.

“There is no other way, Sarah.”

“There has to be.” 

That was it. The air whirred with the familiar sound of his power, and Sarah could hear it in her ears, like a piano key stuck on a high note; she felt her hairs stand at attention like she was about to be struck by lightning.

“What if you lie? You can tell them it wasn’t him!” She sounded desperate.

“I don’t lie,” Jareth told her firmly. “That’s not how this works. You of all people know that.”

Sarah was at a loss for words. Sure, Hoggle did something grievous, but she didn’t want him to pay the price with his life. It felt horrid. It was wrong. Wasn’t there something she could do about it? Or something Jareth could do? Her mind was fuzzy with the sound of his magic, with the strength of his will. It was quieting all her thoughts of disobedience and anger.

There would be no changing his mind, would there?

For this reason, Sarah felt the tears coming, but she tried again over her gravelly voice.

“But what if we–”

Suddenly, he took her by the shoulders and squeezed her to him. In his arms, there wasn’t any room to move. She was too weak to resist him, especially his magic– though she did try.

“No,” he whispered into her hair. “No more ‘what ifs’ or strange fixes.” She tried to wrestle away from him but he didn’t let her. “Fear me, love me, do as I say,” he murmured above her ear. “And I will be your slave. I will give you your dreams. These are the rules. It’s time to grow up now, Sarah. Grow up and embrace them. Even when it’s hard.”

Jareth turned her around by the shoulders to face Hoggle. 

“Look at him, Sarah. This little wart will betray you. It’s in his nature, just as he betrayed me and you, countless times before.” He paused to kiss her cheek before continuing. “I give them rules, remember? I do this because they need them, and sometimes, it’s not very nice. Not all parts of our dreams are nice,” Jareth told her, tightening his arms around her. “But if you trust me, now, Sarah, I will not betray you. That is a promise. We will do the hard things together, and that means it’s easy, all you have to do is obey .”

Hoggle winced in anticipation. In any case, Sarah felt herself tremble. It was too much, all of these choices. If Jareth wasn’t holding her, she might have fallen. Her mind was racing.

Had Hoggle done something wrong to deserve punishment? Perhaps. But his heart was in the right place wasn’t it? Didn’t that count for something? Had Hoggle betrayed Sarah before? Also yes. But did that mean it was right to leave him dead in the Bog of Eternal Stench, right? The punishment simply didn’t fit the crime. 

And if it did?

Sarah was torn up. She wanted to close her eyes and make it all go away, but queens can’t do that. That’s what children do. And a child she was no longer. But she was tired, and most of all, she was worried that Jareth had been right all along. What if dreams aren’t always easy? What if they were scary sometimes, or hard? Did that always make them bad? What if this was part of it? Sarah took a shaky breath; her heart was in her ears.

But right before she was about to let out a sob, someone beat her to it. Someone who wasn’t Hoggle, nor Jareth, nor any familiar soul.

A wailing cry erupted into the air. Sharp, piercing. It was high pitched and nasally–but also very close. Perhaps just one room over.

But how? And more importantly, who?

Instantly, as though he were in some kind of trance, Jareth’s arms loosened around Sarah. 

“For heaven’s sake,” he moaned.

“What is that?” Sarah asked, her mind clearing like morning fog.

“Don’t you know?” Jareth replied in a low, impatient grumble.

He unlatched his arms from around her as the crying became louder. It was clear to Sarah that he was thinking. He was troubled. He was overwhelmed. The Goblin King crossed his arms as the wail transcended into an angry scream. He rubbed his temple.

Sarah, confused now more than ever before, stared at the walls wide-eyed and worried. How could things get any worse?

“Toby?” She asked with concern. Jareth huffed air through his nostrils in a silent chuckle as though that were a funny thought.

“No, Sarah. Not Toby.”

The relief was brief before her curiosity sparked more anxiousness.

It was a baby, clear as day. Sarah knew that. She tilted her head up and drank in the sounds of a rasping, human child as it mixed with the distant clanking of goblin chaos. 

But, if it wasn’t Toby, then–

“Oh,” Sarah articulated the sound as she realized it. This was a child who had been spirited away, wasn’t it? Sarah turned to follow the noise, feeling that big sister itch to go and console him. 

o o o 

What a mess.

Jareth crossed his arms. He glanced at Sarah then to Hoggle, intensely irritated. Why couldn’t anything ever run smoothly around here? Why was it always everything at once all of the time? There was a coup to repress, a dwarf to murder and bog, a woman to tame, and now a child to deal with. He had hoped it would be awhile before Sarah would have to see this part. It was rarely pretty. But now, here it was. Front and center, demanding his attention. Go figure.

That’s what you get for taking a day off , Jareth supposed, a grade-A, hot mess express on wheels .

The Goblin King rolled his neck as though he was preparing for something physically laborious. Sarah was standing beside him, looking more frazzled than ever. He would have to find a way to comfort her if there was any hope for this relationship to stay afloat. There was also Hoggle, who was still appropriately cowering on the ground, begging to be dealt with. And now, everything –once again–rested on Jareth’s shoulders.

He would have to deal with all these things separately, wouldn’t he? Yes, that was the only way. But at this rate, this was going to take forever. Hours even. Perhaps he should bog Hoggle first, then deal with the child? But if he did that, then, the goblins might ruin even more parts of the castle. On the other hand, if Jareth started by squashing the coup, Hoggle could go and hide and draw out this discipline process, thus exacerbating Sarah even more. For goodness sakes! Jareth wasn’t built for caring deeply about too many things at once. It wasn’t in his nature. All he wanted to do was scoop Sarah up and bring her back to bed. This, he knew, would soothe them both. But, unfortunately for Jareth, being King always came with a long list of its own unique punishments.

Jareth blinked. An idea flashed behind his eyes–inspiration for new mischief. He darted his gaze back to Hoggle.

“Get up,” Jareth barked at the dwarf. Hesitantly, the Hoggle pushed himself off the ground with his grubby, puffy hands. His body language was all fear and shame. Jareth, seeing this, was pleased. It helped him feel more himself again. 

Jareth gave the dwarf a coy, sideways grin. “It’s your lucky day, Hoggle,” Jareth began. “I have a job for you.”

Chapter Text

On his throne, Jareth smiled at the baby in his arms. The Goblin King was holding that child with a certain level of skillful prowess that both surprised and impressed Sarah. He rocked him slightly, then hummed. And just like that, the crying had stopped. Why was he so good at this, she wondered?

“What a handsome little chap he is. Look at all that hair,” Jareth said pleasantly. The Goblin King held the boy out in front of himself as though the child were a cat. Then, with grabby fingers, the baby reached out and snatched a lock of Jareth’s mane and began to play with it. 

“Got some gusto, this one. I think we’ll call him Gus,” Jareth said, watching Sarah with glee. But then, seeing her face still plastered with worry and fear, under his breath, he added with a frown. “You’re right. That’s not a very good name.”

Sarah was standing in the doorway to the throne room, hands clasped nervously in front of her. She was overwhelmed, in truth. Primarily, she was worrying helplessly about Hoggle and what would become of him. In the distance, she could hear goblin jeering and occasional glass breaking.

Sarah’s dress was obscuring Jareth from seeing Hoggle directly. This was because it was so bulbous and Hoggle was so short, and it was a childish thought, but a part of her wondered if not seeing Hoggle would protect him from Jareth’s wrath. Perhaps this new distraction would keep him from harming her friend? She was also staring, utterly dumbfounded, at the giant hole in the wall on the other side of the room. What had done that, Sarah wondered? Was it the army? And what was going to happen now? Jareth, as if reading her anxious thoughts, called out to them both and crossed his legs. 

“Come here– both of you.” Jareth sighed as though he was sad he had to say it. Sarah looked back at Hoggle, who was staring at the ground. 

“It’s going to be OK,” she whispered with a real effort to believe it. 

“Easy for you to say,” Hoggle muttered. She winced. Feeling awful, Sarah touched his shoulder, guiding him forward like she was bringing a kindergartener to the principal’s office. Or maybe, like they were both going to the principal's office? She wasn’t sure. In any case Hoggle didn’t stop her, and together, they stopped a good distance away from Jareth.

“Sarah?” Jareth called her name with a level of warmth. He wasn’t looking at her, just at the child.

“Yes?” She answered. Hearing her voice, he smiled at her and bounced the baby a few times. Then, with a movement of his chin, he invited her to come closer. She looked back at Hoggle, as if wondering whether Jareth truly invited her forward or not.

“Yes, you , Sarah,” Jareth clarified. There were three steps leading up to the throne. She stopped right in front of them. The Goblin King rose regally and handed her the baby.

 “Got him?” Jareth asked quietly. 

“Yes,” she said softly. The Goblin King kissed her cheek then. It was, once again, strange to say the least. The handover was rather natural and strangely intimate, as though it was a completely normal thing for Jareth to do–to hand her a baby. Then, as if she weren’t incredibly perplexed, he walked off the throne and stood before Hoggle, hands on his sides.

The child cooed happily at Sarah in his blue-paisley onesie. He smelled like cinnamon and lotion. Sarah couldn’t help but think he was cute– with his big brown eyes and curly hair, ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. But, in holding him, a sadness came over her too. Who would get rid of you , she wondered? A guilt plagued her with that thought, and she was glad when Jareth spoke again so she wouldn’t have to think too deeply about that any longer.

“I’ve been thinking, Hoggle,” Jareth began. “How can I punish you in a way that amuses me greatly, terrifies my subjects to no end, but also doesn’t leave my darling Sarah torn up to bits?”

Sarah’s interest was piqued. She studied Jareth from behind and wondered what he was doing. A moment of silence passed between all members of the room, to which Jareth cleared his throat and made a moody hand gesture at Hoggle to respond.

“I–I don’t know know,” the dwarf muttered. Sarah tilted her chin. She was interested in where this conversation was going, but she also had to throw her hair over her shoulder so the child would stop playing with it. 

“No. No I didn’t think you would,” Jareth sighed. “But Sarah, do you know what my subjects hate? More than an eternal stench?” The Goblin King asked by looking at her from over his shoulder. Sarah looked left, right, and scrunched her nose as she thought about how all of these seemingly disconnected ideas might fit together.

“N-no?” Sarah replied. She was both frazzled and unsure if this was a riddle. The little boy had begun to chew on strands of Sarah’s chestnut hair, further distracting her.

“ Responsibility ,” Jareth answered with a hint of premeditated excitement. He turned back to the dwarf. “If Hoggle wants to worry about a human being so much, why not just give him his very own to look after, hm? I think this will be a far more entertaining punishment for me to observe from up close, anyway. One I don’t have to smell as much. And it’s just as scary for the goblins to hear about.”

“ What ?” Hoggle scowled, clearly outraged. Sarah raised her eyebrows and looked down at the baby who was gnawing blissfully at a lock of her hair. She considered this option. No bog for Hoggle in exchange for parenthood? That wasn’t a bad deal. It was a more fitting outcome for his ‘crimes’, if there was to be such a thing. And, it wasn’t like there was a girl coming after this child through the Labyrinth, was there? Sarah blinked, realizing that this idea worried her a little bit. 

“Is…Is there someone who might want him back?” Sarah asked meekly. At that Jareth laughed heartily. 

“Oh, Sarah. No ,” the Goblin King wiped his eyes and chuckled again. “There’s only one of you, love. I doubt there shall ever be another ever again–thank goodness. People who wish their children away know what they’re doing.” Seeing her continued sense of worry, he added. “Hand to God, one Sarah Williams is all this Goblin King can take.”

At that, Sarah let out a shaky sigh. That was reassuring, she thought. Back to the matter at hand–

So, this baby didn’t have anyone, then. And he needed someone. What Jareth was proposing wasn’t altogether that outlandish then, all things considered. It was even–Sarah deemed–uniquely and freshly kind– at least, in terms of Jareth morality–whatever that meant.

“I ain’t taking care of no baby!” Hoggle protested. 

“Well, now, it’s not really up to you, is it, Hidgewart?” Jareth retorted firmly and with some punch. “What say you, Sarah?” His tone was newly soft. Sarah glanced up and found him in front of her, looking at her with a neutral curiosity. “Perhaps we can consider this kindness of mine a kind of wedding present?” 

Jareth spread his hands and gestured for Sarah to give the boy to him.

“Wedding present?” Sarah was spellbound. She felt her face run hot red and she looked down at the child again. He was still chewing blissfully on her hair. 

“Yes,” Jareth said, looking glad to see her so frazzled. “You’re certainly dressed for the affair, aren’t you now? Pretty, precious thing. All we need now is a three tiered cake.” 

Why was everyone talking about cake? She looked up at Jareth again. In his face was a clear intensity that proved he’d meant every word. 

“He’ll be OK?” Sarah asked while studying the child. Jareth nodded.

“Hoggle will remain un-bogged so long as he raises this human child with tender love and care until he’s grown. For a dwarf, I can think of no better agony. It might even be good for him.”

“Oh my god,” Hoggle gasped, clutching at his face. He was going white again, and it was obvious that he was mortified at the prospect of eighteen long years of free childcare. But, even though Hoggle was clearly troubled, Sarah felt surprisingly light.

That was so clever, Sarah realized. Clever and wildly agreeable to her. She met Jareth’s ever-intensifying gaze, and in it, she found that it was incredibly easy to obey. 

At last, Sarah nodded. 

“Alright,” she agreed. Jareth beamed at her with a sudden, glowing pride. Behind his eyes was a spark of hope that this might all work out after all. 

“Oh, Sarah,” he chuckled while taking the child. “Careful. When you look at me like that, I almost want to move the stars all over again.”

o o o

Hoggle was clutching baby Gus like a sack of potatoes. The darned child weighed almost half as much as Hoggle did, and so the dwarf struggled to keep up as Sarah and Jareth walked on ahead of him. But Jareth had demanded Hoggle to follow, so here he was. Was this his life now? A pain in the ass and a half? Hoggle had to strain his large ears over the baby’s cooing to hear Sarah and Jareth discuss what to do with the rebellious convoy of goblins intent on tearing up their castle.

“You said they were asking about cake?” Jareth asked her, perplexed.

“Yes. That’s all they seemed to care about,” Sarah answered. “Hoggle might know why.”

“What a mess,” Jareth grumbled. 

Sarah glanced back at Hoggle. Then, intentionally, she slowed down her pace so he could keep up more easily. With a shake of his head, Jareth took her hand in his and pulled her forward. 

“So, Hoggle,” Jareth asked without looking at him. “Why are there goblins ruining my perfectly good palace in the name of…what was it?”

“Cake,” Sarah replied.

“Yes, cake. What of that?” Jareth demanded. Baby Gus whined and began to pull on Hoggle’s hair, perhaps for stability, as the dwarf picked up the pace. 

“Ow!” Hoggle winced. The child giggled and did it again. What fresh hell is this , Hoggle wondered? The dwarf tipped his chin up so the baby could not reach it so easily. 

“They think that Sarah is a princess of cake,” Hoggle huffed. He felt it best to keep things short, especially at this speed. The baby let out a whine as he reached for Hoggle’s beard but couldn’t reach it. “Stop that! Bad baby!” Hoggle scolded the boy. At that, the child whimpered and snuffled. He was on the edge of wailing, and Jareth, hearing this, paused in his walking and looked back at the dwarf with icy cold eyes.

“Does no one know how to babysit around here?” The Goblin King complained. He withdrew his hand from Sarah’s and turned around. Jareth knelt down and glared at the dwarf. Hoggle felt his skin run cold. 

“I’m going to show you, once , how to do this,” the Goblin King glowered and offered his hands to Hoggle. With a rush of relief, the dwarf forked over the child and enjoyed a moment to catch his breath.

“You’ve got to support the whole body weight, like so,” Jareth said, demonstrating. “And, it’s good to give them something to play with, ahhm–,” Jareth paused, looking around aimlessly. He plucked his sickle-shaped necklace up from his chest and presented it to baby Gus who clutched at it eagerly and began, with haste, to suck on it. “It’s not difficult,” Jareth scolded. 

“He might be hungry,” Sarah offered. Jareth tilted his head from one side to the other, like he was considering it.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. Jareth held out one gloved hand and whirled his wrist. A moment later, there was a small morsel of bread. “There you are, little fellow,” Jareth nodded, offering the child the bread. With wide eyes, the baby dropped Jareth’s necklace and glommed onto the bread.

“See?” Jareth shook his head. “ Easy . For goodness sakes, Hoggle, have some grit.”

The grumpy Goblin King handed the child back to Hoggle and watched with impatience as the dwarf attempted to position the boy correctly in his own stumpy arms. With one hand, the baby munched his little loaf. With the other, he clutched at Hoggle in a half-hug, half-lean. That’s when Hoggle got the hang of it. 

The dwarf frowned. He noted, if only to himself, that Jareth had been right. This was much easier now. 

“Oh, Hoggle, look at him. He loves that!” Sarah cheered with encouragement. Jareth smiled at Sarah smiling at Hoggle. But Hoggle only rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. It felt like he was a slave to children. First, to Jareth, the man-child. Then to Sarah, the barely-not-a-child. And now, to this .

o o o

It had been Sarah’s idea. And what a brilliant idea it had been!

“I read it in a book once,” Sarah had explained. “ The Iliad , I think.”

Jareth nodded and was impressed, perhaps even giddy, as he listened to her explain it. New mischief could be simple and still be fun, he realized. Or maybe, it was just nice to have someone worthy to enact mischief with–and worthy she certainly was. Either way, Jareth was having the time of his life.

This was the plan. 

First, Jareth would conjure five massive three-tiered cakes, all of them labeled with white frosting that said ‘Eat Me’. Then, Sarah, dressed in her gown, would offer them up as a Trojan Horse of sorts. 

“A slice of cake for every brick replaced,” She would say to them. “Do this and thou shalt not be bogged by your noble King Jareth.”

“Brilliant,” Jareth thought aloud. 

Two birds, one stone. One girl, his whole heart. A perfect matrimony.

The goblins would be bewitched by such an offer, Jareth knew. And once devoured, the cake would put the goblins to sleep in just three hours. And asleep they would stay for about six hours time– just enough time to get the wall rebuilt, and more than enough time for Jareth to expel them from the palace by way of fantastical magic, secret passageways, or even via catapult if it pleased him. Which, to be clear, it did. Greatly. 

While all of this was happening, Hoggle sat on a bench as designated overseer anointed by King Jareth. Beside him was Gus. Occasionally, goblins stood around, drowsily, wishing they could play with the baby, too. Hoggle would quickly remind them of their job to rebuild that wall lest they be bogged. 

But, oh, a human child could make for great fun, they would say! What lovely brains he must have! 

At this, Hoggle nearly turned green.

“Shoo!” Hoggle waved his hands at them. “Be gone with ye!” He would say. They would stumble off on their way unhappily, crusty frosting strewn across their ungrateful lips.

Hoggle sighed. This would happen often.

But when the child had begun to get fussy, Hoggle would place his hands in front of his bulbous nose to cover his face. Then, when the child was well and truly duped, he would part his hands again and smile. Like magic, the little baby would giggle. It made things only slightly easier.

“Not too shabby, kiddo,” Hoggle would say. “You know a handsome mug when you see em’.” 

Then, Gus would smack Hoggle in the face as if to ask him to do it again. So, Hoggle rolling his eyes, would oblige. It went on like this for a while.

Sarah and Jareth were nowhere to be seen.

Chapter Text

Somewhere in the innermost chambers of the palace, behind double doors made of solid white marble, there were two lovers. One was standing, the other was being carried.

Absorbed in the act of kissing, it was a miracle Jareth hadn’t tripped, and when his arms were nothing but a strained burning sensation, he tossed Sarah onto his bed without warning. Jateth found her small whelp of surprise intensely moving. 

“Hey!” Her voice was only the ghost of accostment. She propped herself up on her elbows. Her gaze for him was some delicious mixture between anticipation and fear. 

Jareth approached the bed and placed a single knee on one side of the bottom hem of her dress. His other foot was firmly on the ground.

“Do you know what you do to me when you look at me like that, Sarah?”

Sarah blushed and looked out the window in embarrassment; it was clouding up again. She was not good at this talking part. Not yet. And while she was busy trying not to have a single lucid thought, the next thing she felt was one of Jareth’s hands on her right ankle. He squeezed her lightly to draw her attention back to him.

“I asked you a question.” His voice was full of judicious warning. Sarah swallowed, drew a shaky breath, and shook her head.

“I have no idea,” she whispered honestly. A nagging thought in the back of her mind asked her to consider a small list of reasonable questions, such as how she would get this dress off while laying like this, or when she might be able to eat something again because she was growing rather hungry. A flash behind her eyes reminded her that she still very much wanted to see her family. Then, when her eyes met Jareth’s again, all those thoughts were silenced. 

Was it magic? Maybe. Perhaps it was just fate. It’s better not to think too much about it. 

He crawled over her then, stopping when both his knees were comfortable beside her waist. Jareth smiled down at Sarah.

“Would you like me to show you?” He began, “Or shall I continue to have no power over you?” 

She giggled. What once would have made her angrier than the gates of Hades was now the fodder for bedroom laughter. When Sarah had decided, she nodded at him and closed her eyes. He wanted to kiss her, she could tell.

So he did. But when he drew away from her lips, he whispered against them.

“Then say the words,” he murmured. “The right ones, this time.” She could feel his hands moving over her, parts of the dress coming undone, among other things.

“What words?” Her voice was small. Jareth kissed her collarbone. 

“You already know them,” he answered. His tone was suddenly calm rather than husky. He was waiting. Sarah was panting. This was how it would happen.

Jareth pressed his hand over her chest and splayed his fingers. He felt her heart racing like that of a butterfly’s wings, and closed his eyes.

“Sarah?” He asked her. He knew now that she would say them. It was only a matter of time.

Sarah parted her trembling lips. She knew what he wanted her to say. For a moment, a jeweled glint of the future came into her, like a wind blowing through a house with many open windows. It was a good future, here, in the Underground. It was good and it was coming.

The words were all she could think about now, like a resounding gong against the walls of her mind. At one time, they would have been words of concession, of forfeit, of defeat. But they weren’t now, nor would they be ever again.

Sarah met his gaze and took his face in her hands. He kissed her palm.

“For your will is as strong as mine, and my kingdom as great…” She drew a shaky, determined breath. It all rested on this now, didn’t it? 

You better get your lines right. 

So she did. 

He watched her, his eyes wide, saying nothing, as she gave herself to him. Fully, utterly, completely. He did the same. Thunder rumbled in the distance. 

And when it was done, she looked up at him. It was thrilling, belonging to one another, wasn’t it? Dangerous, new, but thrilling. 

“I love you,” she said meekly. He kissed her. 

“Until the world falls down,” he promised her. Their fates were tied up in that promise now. His hands were in her hair. She smiled up at him. 

And so, it happened. 

And while it did, all her thoughts were for Jareth. As was her mind, her heart, and the very stars that made up her soul. 

o o o

Follow this handsome couple from the Underground? Alright, but very carefully…

At the palace in the center of the Labyrinth, just beyond the Goblin City, there is someone speaking. No--it is the sound of reading. There is time for reading now. Sarah has found that her stories calm the goblins, so she has taken up sharing her stories daily. They gather round to watch her speak at all times of day, whenever she gets the itch. And when she does, many of them bring morsels of bread and make picnics on the castle floor. It’s the only time they’re quiet, and they’re quiet because they love the way it feels to think without doing, to see without seeing. 

The words hang the way a lullaby might, with melody and lily-sweet rhythm. The best part is they never know when she messes up or forgets a detail. They only like that she does it for them, and this is more than enough for goblins. 

She’s switching things up now. See the shuffling of paper? Do you hear the goblins clap for an encore? 

Of course you do.

Now, look closely.

At the back of the room, there is a man leaning against the doorway. He watches her with a relaxed face that is neither smiling nor frowning. If you squint, you’ll see that he is spellbound by her, too. And he has been for a very long time. This will never change.

He is the Goblin King.

Jareth looks younger now, somehow. A good five years at least, if not more. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail to keep it from falling into its eyes. She said she likes the way it looks on him, that it makes him look younger. So he wears it like this. He wonders if, perhaps, looking younger is simply the result of being well loved? Maybe it is that kind of profound magic which shaves age away from your spirit? Or maybe, this is a different kind of magic entirely. It’s better if we don’t think about this too much. Magic is only good so long as it maintains its mystery.

Very well. Now, close your eyes. 

When you’re ready, open them again.

You’ll find this same couple, standing hand in hand, facing forward. The sky is white from winter and the Victorian house before them is peppered in heavy snow. Twinkling lights adorn the roof and windows, and the very air smells crisp from the needles of pine and fir.

This world is much different from the one you saw them in before, but it is the world that you are used to. 

This house is Sarah’s home. Or rather, it’s where she used to live. 

They come here every once in a while, at least a few times a year. Sarah insists upon it.

It was hard at first, but Jareth has grown to like it. Not all good things are easy, it seems. But today, it’s Christmas. An exception is made.

We’ll close our eyes for now, while they’re trudging up the old porch steps with parcels in hand. Nearly all of the boxes are labeled for the ever-growing Toby, who is stamping down the stairs in his matching green and red pajamas as we speak. He’s almost too old for such an outfit, almost. But not yet. He opens the door with the glee of a young goblin right as we fade away.

 Not all the moments they have are for sharing. Not all of their feelings can be fully written down. But this tale was worth telling, wasn’t it? That’s what counts.

It’s good to be wise about which stories we choose to leave.