A/N: Some authors will talk about how they are the Goblin King's scribe. I, though, am not. If I were, I'm sure he would have it take WAY less long for her to end up intentionally in his arms. Nor am I Sarah's scribe. There are probably some things in this story that she'd want changed too. If anything, I'm the Labyrinth's scribe, and she is a harsh and demanding muse, but that's not quite right either. If it were her story she'd have a queen in far less time than it actually took. They say there are three sides to every story: yours, theirs and the truth. Well, this story has five sides: Sarah's, Jareth's, the Labyrinth's, the Truth's and Mine. This is my version of what happened seven years after that fateful night where a wish was spoken in haste and changed the life of everyone involved.
To Serve Her Purpose
The Labyrinth looked around Sarah's room. While it was hard to leave her body like this, to visit her Champion, it was possible. Sarah's room had changed over the past seven years. Gone were the teddy bears and dolls that had filled it when Sarah had been a child—she'd given them to Toby years ago, though she'd never given up the fantastical as most adult humans seemed to. There were a few posters of famous paintings but most of the space was taken up with book shelves. Books of all flavors filled those shelves, books on history, fantasy, politics, geography, agriculture, great works of fiction, hardcovers bound up very princely looking, and thin paperbacks that seemed to have had many owners: all sorts were represented on these shelves. Her Champion's pursuit of politics and the liberal arts led Sarah to have many books indeed, mused the Labyrinth, many of which were strange bedfellows. Next to Sarah's vanity was a small bookshelf with her favorite books: The Odyssey; Plato's The Republic; Machiavelli's The Prince; the complete works of England's great Bard, William Shakespeare, with a small separate copy of The Tempest; a small volume of Yeats' poems; a small volume, a thoroughly thumbed and annotated copy of Rossetti's "Goblin Market;" and finally a small red book with the title printed in gold on the cover. The bed, vanity and dresser still belonged to the same set she'd had when the Labyrinth had first met her. The Labyrinth knew that when the stepmother had asked if Sarah wanted a new set she'd said she simply couldn't bear to leave them. The real reason, thought the Labyrinth smugly, was the friends she'd made one beautiful night when she was fifteen years old and had made a glorious wish. The mirror on her vanity was the only one through which her friends could cross into the Above, as it was owned by Sarah and Sarah alone.
Sarah opened the door and walked in. The Labyrinth observed her. She had changed much in the last seven years. Now she was clearly a woman and not a child on the cusp of womanhood. She had a groundedness about her that hadn't been there before. Even in the previous year, when the Labyrinth had caught a glimpse of her during that last wish, she had changed. Her hair was shorter now, her eyes a little duller.
The Labyrinth was done with waiting, though. It had been a full year since She-Who-Should-Be-Queen had called on her and the Champion had not shown any sign of calling on her again. Thousands upon thousands of years old she may have been, but she only had so much patience. So, the Labyrinth returned to the Underground leaving the merest hint of a suggestion of a wish.
Sarah looked around her room and shuddered. She could have sworn she felt someone watching her. But the mirror was empty. She brushed aside the feeling and sat down at her vanity and thought of what it was like to be home. Two years ago spring break was one of Sarah's favorite times of the year. She got to see her family without the big hullabaloo of getting everyone together for Christmas, just a quiet week of herself and her family. Well, not that quiet, for Toby had the inherent energy that all 7-year-olds seemed to have, constantly wanting her to play with him or tell him stories. Normally Sarah was happy to oblige. She couldn't imagine something so different from her routine at school and the break was nice. As soon as Sarah would ring the doorbell Toby would come charging out, insisting on a hug—though normally it resembled more of a tackle—before trying to help bring in her bags. After the first year he'd done that she'd made sure to pack a few small bags suitable for a boy to carry, leaving her father and the taxi driver to deal with the large one.
This year it was different though. This year Sarah was not greeted by a smiling, screaming ball of energy. This time it was Sarah who helped the taxi driver get her bags up to the door, even the smaller ones she'd packed just in case. There she was met by a Toby who wasn't smiling, but who had tears in his eyes, who wrapped her in a hug, not a tackle, and who murmured into her stomach: "I miss him,"
Her brother's actions brought the tears to her eyes that she'd been trying so hard to repress.
"I know, Tobes," she whispered, voice hoarse. "Me too." Tomorrow was, after all, the anniversary.
She'd been called inside right after by Karen, who looked like she was holding it together by a thread.
"Come on in, supper's almost ready. Bring your bags up to your room and then come help set the table, please," she directed her stepdaughter. Sarah enveloped her stepmother in a quick hug before doing as she was bid. Her father's death had forced them closer together and both were happier for it.
Dinner passed quickly, most of it filled with Sarah talking about her classes, though not mentioning her Celtic Studies class to avoid conflict with Karen. They might have grown closer, but Sarah's tendencies to paint Karen as an evil step mother in the first few years of their relationship had caused lasting tension when Sarah would bring up her obssesion with the fantastical. Sarah couldn't blame Karen for her discomfort—it was Sarah's fault, after all. She would tell Toby all about that class and the stories they studied. It was his favorite part of her coming home. He got to hear all the new stories she learned.
When Sarah mentioned her roommate's budding relationship with a jerk named Jet—"and seriously, what kind of name is Jet"—she noticed her stepmother fingering a bracelet she hadn't seen before. It was something her father hadn't gotten for her and something a little too pricy for Karen to have bought on her own. It had obviously been a gift. After a little more conversation, and a few more questions about her classes and her trip, Sarah and Karen put Toby to bed. While they were cleaning the kitchen Sarah asked Karen about the bracelet she noticed earlier.
"That's a nice bracelet," she said "Where did you get it?"
"Oh," Karen replied, looking flustered for a moment. "A friend gave it to me."
Sarah knew that wasn't the truth, and while this topic made her kind of uncomfortable, she plowed on. Karen needed to know this before tomorrow.
"Karen, your birthday's in the fall, you didn't get it at Christmas and if you got it before that you would have worn it with your Christmas dress because it would have looked amazing. Karen," Sarah started after carefully taking the bowl out of her stepmother's hands, "are you seeing someone?"
Karen turned back to the sink to pick up another dish. "Nonsense, Sarah. Even after all these years I still don't know where your mind goes sometimes. Me? Seeing someone? Preposterous!" Though the comment on Sarah's flights of fancy stung, as it had been at the root of many of their arguments when she was younger, and especially as Karen was now the only one who didn't know the truth—she'd told Toby of the goblins countless times and even introduced him to her friends—she plowed on regardless. Karen needed this right now.
"He would want you to, you know," she said, putting the bowl away and taking another dish from her stepmother who now stood perfectly still. There was no need to specify which 'he' she meant. "He'd want you to see people, to move on, to be happy." She grabbed the last dish and dried it as she spoke. "He wouldn't want you to mourn forever. It's been long enough. If you're seeing someone, he'd be happy for you. I'd be happy for you." She put the last dish in its place. "And if Toby has a problem with it, I'll help you deal with him." She paused. "I should go unpack. Good night, Karen. I'll see you tomorrow." And with that she slipped out of the kitchen, leaving the woman who'd helped raise her alone with her thoughts.
After unpacking for the break and changing into her pajamas, though, she had nothing left to distract her from the grief that she'd been keeping at bay all day. Tears crept into her eyes as she sat down at her vanity.
"Hoggle, Sir Didymus, Ludo, I need you." They didn't always answer when she called—they had lives and duties of their own—but tonight, they would. They knew what day tomorrow was. In her mirror they appeared sitting on her bed, all looking concerned but understanding at the tears in her eyes. She turned around and threw herself at Ludo, who wrapped her up in a large hug. "Sawah sad," he crooned softly, holding her as she sobbed.
"There there, my lady," Sir Didymus said, patting her on the back.
"We're here for you," Hoggle muttered, wringing his hands. When the tears had slowed somewhat, she looked around at her friends. Hoggle handed her a slightly dirty handkerchief. "Thanks, Hoggle," she sniffed. "I just miss him so much."
"He was your dad," Hoggle offered, looking away at the praise. "Of course you miss him,"
"A most valiant man," added Sir Didymus.
"Wobet Good" was Ludo's contribution.
"He was." Sarah gave them all a watery smile. "The way he put up with me back when I was such a brat. I remember once…" and the rest of the night was spent with Sarah telling stories and crying, surrounded by her three oldest friends. Eventually she cried herself to sleep and the friends retreated through the mirror to their home, first Ludo, then Sir Didymus and finally Hoggle. But before he stepped though the mirror, he looked back at the first friend he'd ever had and muttered
"I wish there was more Jareth could do than just let us see her."
But what no one knew, (although by now they really should have) was that everyone's words have power, even those of a dwarf, especially when those words served a purpose. The Labyrinth smiled to herself. Really, Hoggle should have known better by then.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed, because more is coming. I've already written the first 5 chapters and have started on the sixth. I have the entire plot planned out and plan to be posting weekly. This story is made possible by my wonderful Beta who I love dearly and shower hugs upon (B/N: Not enough hugs :( A/: SORRY *HUGS* the things I do to keep her happy B/N: I'M SITTING RIGHT HERE A/N: Oops. Can you tell we're sisters?). None of this would have happened without her. I'd also be eating more regularly and sleeping more if it weren't for her releasing surprise attack bunnies at me... grumble grumble grumble. Well, my loss is your gain. Enjoy and please Review!