Jareth watched his Sarah with a bemused air as she sat at the vanity, brushing her hair.
"Will you stop looking at me like that?" she said, half laughing, half giving him a glare in the mirror.
"Sorry, Precious. I just can't seem to believe my own eyes," he replied, pulling on a shirt. She rolled her eyes at him.
"Come on, Jareth. If we don't hurry, we'll be late for our own ball."
"And we both know how you hate not getting places in time," he teased her gently, a smile playing around his lips. She shot him an actual glare this time and he wisely shut up.
"Jareth" came her sweet voice, as it roused him from slumber, "Jareth! Get up!" He rolled away from her. He still wanted to sleep. "Jareth, there are goblins at the door and all my clothes are missing again for 'some reason' so I'm not going to deal with it so get up!"
Sighing, Jareth rolled out of bed. She wouldn't let him get back to sleep until he dealt with this. After all, he was the Goblin King, he had responsibilities. But he couldn't help a glance over his shoulder at the mention of her missing clothes.
She threw herself down the hill with abandon, rolling down it gleefully. He wanted to catch her, hold her, keep her safe, but he could hear her laughing as she went, and she got up at the bottom without a problem, only to run back up and beg him to join her this time. Of course, he did. He had never been able to refuse her, even if he didn't think it was quite dignified for the King of the Goblins to be laughing like a child.
He came into the library to see her standing at the window looking out at the storm that was sitting above their city. She looked over her shoulder when she heard him, eyes dancing.
"Just like the day we first met," she offered, gesturing outside. Jareth glanced but briefly at the storm before turning to look at his Sarah again.
"I suppose so. But things were very different then."
She smiled and laughed. "Very true! I feared and hated you for one!"
"So you did," Jareth replied, raising an eyebrow at her. Some things never changed.
"I'm glad I don't anymore." She threw herself on a couch and patted the seat above her head. "Read to me?"
"But of course."
She stood at the head of the crowd when he was crowned High King, when his reign as Goblin King ended. She was almost crying for happiness. Despite the crowd of dignitaries in their finery, she had eyes only for him, her king, her love. And, of course, he had eyes only for her, his Precious, his Sarah. He wished he could look away.
Every morning he woke up and looked into her emerald eyes. They were exactly as he remembered them. All of her was, of course. How could it be otherwise?
The gravestone stood before them, old and weathered, as the last people who would have taken care of it had passed many, many years ago.
"You know," Jareth said to Sarah as he looked at it. "It would be nice if you were still alive."
"What are you talking about, Jareth? I'm right here." For once, he didn't look at her. He wished she'd leave him alone, in this time, in this place, but of course not. His Sarah was always with him, even in his dreams. Especially in his dreams. She had been since she died.
He left the peach blossom on Sarah's—not his Sarah's, never his Sarah's—grave as he did every year, and said a brief prayer to the gods that she was at peace, not tormented as he was. Finished for another year, he turned to his Sarah, the Sarah of his mind and dreams.
"Come along, Precious. It's time to go home." She raised her eyebrow at him.
"You're weird, you know that?" she said, a smile tugging at her lips. "Lucky for you, I love you anyway."
"I love you too," he replied, smiling at her once more. She was, after all, his only solace. "Let's go home."
And the graveyard was empty again, full of dead so long gone, not even their ghosts remained.