It's not mine…
Labyrinth belongs to
Henson and Company.
Snuggles belongs to
It was a most difficult evening for the King of the Goblin Kingdom. He had helplessly watched the girl go out, unable to stop her or Christine. He leaned on the window of the parlor of the rooms he was sharing. She had not even looked back or in any way acknowledged that she knew he was there watching. It was barely sunset when she'd exited the building dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a camisole. He had not really paid attention to whatever it was her roommate had worn. It was only she, his Sarah, that he saw. His heart sunk, she had not even looked over her shoulder, not even a glance. She hooked arms with the blonde and walked down the pathway away from the apartments and the man whose heart was on his sleeve or rather his goblin armor. "This is not happening!" he muttered as he watched the pair of girls and the pair of escorts moving down the walkway. "She's not doing this!"
Sighing in depression and defeat, hating to admit to either, Jareth moved away from the window and sank into a chair. Miserable and crestfallen and thankful he was alone, the last thing he wanted was for his roomie to see him like this. This insult hurt even more than the reactions he'd felt to her spurning him in the Escher room back in his Castle beyond the Goblin City. He'd known she was going out with Christine, for the intensive little creature had been boasting about it for days now. Every chance she'd gotten to she'd rub more salt into his open wounds. Seeing the two escorts the girls had accepted for the evening did little to assure him either. Really, what did she think she was proving? Left up to Sarah, Mrs. Ogg would have been given the commission of chaperoning them. Jareth shuddered at the thought, Mrs. Ogg indeed! He doubted the old woman would take the time to keep an eye on the girls; she'd be much too busy chasing after…. NO, he thought to himself. Picking Crowley and Aziraphale as escorts for an evening of lighthearted frivolity was far better. He was glad that he and Erik had insisted.
Sinking lower into the chair, pouting and feeling good and sorry for himself, Jareth admitted to himself he had no one to blame but himself. Not that he'd admit it aloud, nor to anyone who could possibly repeat it to that blasted girl. If she knew for one moment that he felt the least amount of guilt over anything, she'd used it against him until Kingdom Come. And as a Fae, he knew that would be a very, very, very long time indeed. His stormy mismatched blue eyes filled with melancholy as he felt washed in wretchedness and sorrow. If only he had handled things differently, if only he had been more… selfless... it would be he escorting Sarah on this outing…
Bitterness began to replace the self-pity, it should be he on whose arm Sarah was this evening, not Christine, of all people. He sulked, his chin nearly on his chest as he turtle his neck and sunk deeper into the armchair. What was it that Sarah possibly could be thinking, he wondered? Was she out of her mind? Had he driven her, as the Americans were so fond of saying, round the bend? Allowing Crowley and Aziraphale to be their escorts was so wrong when it should be he and Erik going out with the girls. After all, they were the men who… 'Stalk them, Jareth? Is that the word you're grasping for?' He questioned himself silently.
Giving his soul a good shaking, Jareth took a deep breath and gave in. This had been a very long time coming. He had caused this to happen, with all his pushing and plotting. What few friendly moments he'd had with the girl always seemed to dissolve, and he knew he had no one to blame but himself. He had brought this on himself; he sighed, and stood up. Once more he walked to the window, placing a gloveless hand to the pane of glass he whispered. "Have a good time, Sarah." He looked at where she'd walked, and then just turned away.
Jareth moved quietly to the kitchen, thinking how good it was he had the entire apartment to himself. Well, himself and the goblins, but he didn't count them as roomies. They were goblins and that was about all he could say for them. For the most part they had the decency to stay only in his room when the others were around. As of yet he'd only received a few complaints about them. So what if they had sunk all of Norrington's little boats, who cared about boats in bottles anyway. As for what they had done to Erik well he'd asked for it. One really should know better than to play music that the goblins objected to. Javert, with his uptight, straight-laced, black-and-white only outlook on life, simply had it coming to him. Tonight however the little pranksters seemed to be very quiet. They had hardly made a peep since everyone else had gone out.
He didn't bother with the light switch; being Fae had its benefits. Unusually good vision in the dark was just one of the many perks. He sometimes preferred candlelight to a glaring electric light. He was so glad that the Kingdom used candles and torches. They were far less obvious and obtrusive, more subtle, more… romantic, a detail that he and Erik agreed upon. He moved to the wine rack that Norrington had insisted upon them having for his all too often visits. Looking at the selection he chose a nice full bodied so like Sarah must he think of it this way! Damn that blasted girl for invading his every thought! He looked at the bottle of red wine; the cork removed itself from the bottle at his mental suggestion. A simple, hand blown glass goblet attended to his outstretched hand from its resting spot in the cabinet that was his contribution to the apartment. Erik had seemed to humor him, agreeing that only a red wine goblet allowed the wine to breathe properly. But then Erik was French and his understanding of wine was innate.
He sniffed at the lip of the bottle, a good year he mused. He looked at the year on the bottle and groaned as he realized it was her year, 1986. He poured the wine, filling the glass to the center of the goblet so it could properly decant. While the wine was breathing he opened the refrigerator and removed the cheese tray that always seemed to be present. He was glad he was sharing rooms with a man who was so European, who preferred good crusty bread to dry bland crackers. He cut a few slices off the fresh loaf that was sitting on the counter, drizzling a little olive oil on the surface facing up on the little plate he had put them on. While replacing the tray of cheese he noticed a small container of cold sliced meats and took a few choice morsels for himself before replacing it in the refrigerator as well.
With a wave of his hand the candles that were on the table in the dining area jumped to life, flickering flames dancing atop the paraffin. He placed the bread, meat, and cheese on the table before adding the now fully decanted wine glass. Taking a seat he looked at the repast with some satisfaction. It might not be the festive meal that Sarah and Christine were most likely going to indulge in, however it was a meal that a man could eat in peace. 'Better is a dinner of herbs' he thought to himself.
Lifting the goblet he became aware that he was no longer alone. He sipped the Cabernet Sauvignon, letting it soak his pallet before he took a bite of the aged Gouda he had chosen to accompany his repast. He sipped the wine again, seeing the goblins moving closer, he lowered the goblet and took a deep breath. "Yes?"
Round eyes and gaping mouths met his gaze. At first they stared at him in concern, but soon they began to mutter among themselves trying to choose a spokesperson. One goblin who had served the king for a very long time was shoved forward. He cleared his throat and prepared for a good swift kick from the King's boot. "Is King… feeling… okay?"
"King is fine," he said as he broke off a bite of bread and placed it delicately into his mouth.
"King doesn't look fine," commented one of them in the back. Jareth didn't bother looking or even acknowledging the comment. But the others shoved the speaker further back, and urged their spokesperson to continue.
"King upset the girl has gone out?" He wasn't sure if to make it a question or a comment and rushed headlong into the offer he was authorized to make. "King would like us to go teach her a lesson?"
Raising the wine glass and taking a sip, he sighed. "No," his voice was quiet.
"No?" they echoed.
Jareth shook his head. "No."
Another goblin, one with big bulging eyes and hair like straw shoved the spokesperson aside, "Is King sick?" he demanded.
Cocking his head to one side, Jareth considered the answer. "No, King is not ill… King is…"
"Sad," the voice in the back of the pack suggested before being told to shut up forcefully by the others in the room.
Jareth nodded, "Yes, I'm sad." He looked at the goblins gathered about him. "I'm very sad." There was a sudden menacing noise that came from the assembled horde, and threats being made. Threats of destruction and injury were being made toward Sarah. Jareth placed the goblet on the table and looked at them, feeling far calmer than he should have. "No," he said firmly. "No one is going to harm the girl." He stood up, placed his hands behind his back and gave them his most regal gaze. "I brought this on myself; I will not allow you to foster the blame onto Sarah."
"Girl makes you sad," one said angrily. "Girl need lesson…"
"No," he said with a smile. "Girl needs to be…" He looked at the food and found his appetite had deserted him. "Sarah has a right to go out and have fun…with whomever she chooses… Tonight it was not me." He waved a hand and the food and wine vanished from the table.
"We could go keep an eye on her," suggested the one with bulging eyes.
"No," Jareth said as he exited the dining area. "I won't have you disturbing her outing."
"But…sire!" one protested.
"We could give her a peach," another offered before he was tossed out of the king's reach by the bigger goblins in the front of the crowd.
"Go home," he said softly, rejecting the offer. "Just go home and see your families." With a regal manner he'd not often displayed he walked past them. His head was high, his shoulders squared and his posture was far more kingly. "I will be coming home tomorrow, I'm finished here." He opened the door to his room and the rest of the horde moved out into the corridor dolefully. It was the quietest he could remember them being. "It's done… I'm going to take my leave of this place, and of her." He shut the door behind him as he entered.
They stared at the door, home? He was sending them home? He had said he was finished, that he was going to take his leave of this realm and of the girl. One of the goblins in the back whispered brokenheartedly. "How will he go on?" There was no answer, no solace… only sniffles and whimpering goblins moving through one of the many portals from their realm into that of man.
The King's prayer
Jareth moved to the prie dieu kneeler that he'd brought with him. His knees touched the lower padded velvet cushion, sinking in as his elbows rested on the oak shelf. He lowered his face into his hands. "Dear Goddess," he breathed unevenly. "I am so… heart sick… I don't know what else to do… Every time there is peace or a moment of pleasantry between me and the lass I mess it up." He wept quietly before the icon to his patroness, Danu. "I don't mean to… but I don't seem to be able to help myself… I am… but a Goblin myself," he confessed before the image. "This cannot go on," he lamented. "She will hate me if it does, and I won't have that. Better to have loved and lost…" Quietly he let the tears fall. "Oh Danu, you are a mother, grant me this supplication. Protect and safeguard my beloved girl… when I am no longer here to do so."
He stayed bent in prayer for a long time, asking the Goddess who was his patroness to protect his beloved. When he'd finished his prayer he stood up, and went to wash his face in the bath attached to his room. He stripped off his handsome garments and changed into a long soft Irish linen nightshirt that was open to his navel. He moved through the dark room to the large bed that was the main piece of furniture in the room. It took up most of the room, but was the most comfortable bed in the apartment, even if it was Goblin made.
He lay in the darkness, thinking and planning. He'd explain to his roommate, and was fairly sure he'd understand, being in pretty much the same ship as the Goblin King. He would offer to pay his portion of rent until such time as he was able to find a replacement roommate. He felt that was only fair, why should the other have to shoulder the added costs his leaving would cause?
He would tell him at breakfast and then leave. He would forgo seeing Sarah, and the unpleasant scene that would ensue. He would just go, not look back, and not give her the chance to get off one last insulting shot. It would be harder than when she'd left the Goblin Kingdom and the Labyrinth. Then he had the opportunity to follow her, to sit exiled to the branch of a tree and watch her celebrate her victory. This time he was certain she would not pay him the same consideration. She would most likely dance naked in the streets… He rolled to his back and placed an arm over his eyes, shutting out the dim light from the street. He would miss her, her face, her laugh, her cold shoulders, and those beautiful cruel eyes. He would never find another like her, for in his heart he knew, had always known that Sarah Williams was his equal.
Sleep eluded him for he could not help but wonder what it was his beautiful and vindictive Sarah was doing. Where had they gone to? When he had asked she had pointedly informed him that his presence was not wanted, wished for, or going to be tolerated. Had her green eyes not flashed so attractively he was sure he'd have countered with some kind of threat. Instead the only thing he had done was to smirk at her, who could resist her angry beauty? Now he could only lie on the bed and wonder where it was his Sarah was. Surrendering to his basic instinct he formed a crystal orb and focused on the girl. The orb filled with what at first appeared to be fog however Jareth soon realized it was smoke. The outline of the girl's face filled the viewing surface, and her voice rang out.
late night so long ago
When I was not so strong you know
A pretty man came to me
Never seen eyes so blue
I could not run away
It seemed wed seen each other in a dream
It seemed like he knew me
He looked right through me
Come on home, girl he said with a smile
You don't have to love me yet
Let's get high awhile
But try to understand
Try to understand
Try try try to understand
I'm a magic man."
The earthy passion in Sarah's voice thrilled and delighted Jareth, at least for a moment or two. That is until he realized that he was not supposed to have even witnessed the performance. He sat up, this was not going to do, he was going to have to stop thinking of her as being his… she didn't belong to him, damn it. He told himself that once he was back in the land of the Labyrinth he'd find a way and means to keep from thinking on Sarah Williams. After a few hours of restless tossing, turning, and pitching this way and that, the King of the Goblins fell into troubled slumber. More troubled when a certain Phantom returned to begin playing a lament on the piano in his room. Jareth pulled the pillow over his head and cursed to himself.
The feeling that came over the king was not unlike a summons when one wishes away a child. He sat up knowing something was about to happen. He tossed back the blankets, bracing for whatever it was. He exited his bed just in time to hear a disembodied voice call out to him in a smartalecky tone, "Incoming!"
Jareth could feel the girl being poofed into his room by means of magic. Intuition and practice gave him the reflexes to catch the helpless and completely incapacitated young mortal female. "Sarah," he gasped as the first wave of alcohol breath hit him. "Good Goddess woman, what the hell have you been doing?"
"Drinking," she said in a slurred voice, "And singing." She looked up at him thorough the hair that was now hanging in a tangled mess over her face. Lifting an accusing finger and pointing it shakily at him, she complained. "Could you two stop moving around… it makes me dizzy..." she went limp in his arms, having used up what was left of her reserves of wakefulness.
Jareth shook his head, and found that he was now in a very uncomfortable and compromising position. He looked at the girl, contemplating carrying her up to her apartment and dumping her on the doorstep of #402. He then contemplated just popping her with magic into her own room. He raised his hand ready to do just that, but fate had other plans. The limp girl slid into the crook of his arm. Her hair fell away from her face, and he made the mistake of looking down at her. In the dim light he could see her features as clearly as if he'd been looking at her on the hillside at sunrise outside the Labyrinth. His cold anger, his hurt, his bitterness fell away. Once more he saw her as he'd seen her from the start. "Sarah," he murmured gathering her closer.
The raised hand moved and she was no longer in the garments that smelled of stale smoke and foul liquor. Now she was in her little pajamas, a tee shirt styled top that had the word Bowie emblazoned on her bosom, and little shorts that were discreet. Picking her up easily, he carried her to his bed. Gently he placed her on the mattress and pulled the blanket up to cover her. He stood back for a moment, looking at the object of his devotion in a place he had doubted he'd ever find her; His bed. Stepping closer he looked down at the face that had caused him so much heartache.
In this liquor induced stupor she looked peaceful. No anger, no ire, no outrage. Only peace was on her face. She looked like the angelic creature he'd watched practicing recite lines in the park, and she took his breath away. She looked innocent once more, not vengeful, not out of control with rage. Her youthfulness struck him with awe, and he forgot any thought of taking advantage of the situation. Moving around the bed he lifted the blanket on the other side and slipped carefully beside her. He mused it was a big enough bed to accommodate both of their needs for the night, and it was far better for her to be with him than alone in her present state.
Jareth had just settled in what was a restful position when the girl moved, she migrated over to his side. Her arm moved across his chest and did not stop until it sought and found the edge of his nightshirt. Contented and secure she lay her head on his chest as her other hand buried itself under him. Jareth slipped one arm, his right arm under his head, his left hand moved to enfold the girl in a half embrace. He smiled peacefully, content to be her pillow. He gently stroked her back as her one knee moved and covered his leg. She muttered something under her breath, as her mouth opened slightly on his bare chest. He looked down at her sweet peaceful face trying to memorize every line of it for his recollection when he was no longer with her.
"Sing…to me…" she beseeched him in a tone she'd never used in waking with him.
"What?" he asked distractedly. "What did you say?"
Moving closer, nuzzling her cheek to his chest she murmured. "Sing to me, Magic man sing like you did when you danced with me." She snuggled in closer, "Sing to me…"
lump had formed in his throat, and all thoughts of leaving her and
never seeing her again vanished like morning mist. "I'll
paint you mornings of gold
I'll spin you Valentine evenings
Though we're strangers till now
We're choosing the path between the stars
I'll leave my love between the stars…" he promised as he sang to her. She fell into sweet sleep, and he watched for a time envying the dreams she escaped to. He could have easily invaded them, but chose not to it was enough. She asked him to sing, and she snuggled into him. He would hold those treasures for the rest of his existence. He looked over toward the icon beside the prie dieu kneeler. Danu seemed to be bathed in pale moonlight, but he was not sure the moon was even visible this night. "As the pain sweeps through
Makes no sense for you
Every thrill has gone
Wasn't too much fun at all
But I'll be there for you-oo-oo
As the world falls down," he finished the song and his vow. No matter what happened, no matter how she railed at him here after he knew, knew in his heart of hearts that Sarah Williams was not only his equal she was the only woman he would ever love. Slowly he closed his eyes and slept, dreaming of the day that Sarah would consent to being his wife, and his Queen. Somewhere in the night there was music playing, and in the rooms of the Goblin King, a girl slept snuggling her King.
The law offices of Bender, Fender, and Brokenwindsheild, Goblin attorneys at law, representing the Goblin King on his behalf deny this event ever took place….
The author would like to thank Pika for the use of her storyline…
I'd like to thank Yodeladyhoo for being my beta
I'd like to thank the King for the Goblins he sent to do my housework; (We really need to have a talk!)
And I'd like to thank all of my readers, for just being who you all are.