It was a hot and humid in the Labyrinth when Jareth came of age at 217 and a half human years old. He expected some other weather than the usual lazy heat for the event that would end his childhood, yet as he would learn soon enough, being an adult includes not always getting what you want. Before the ceremony, he stood on his balcony overlooking the High City below with the life that bubbled inside it. Even an hour after sunrise it was hot enough for the people to be sweating as they went about their lives.
The Coming-Of-Age ceremony itself occurred in one of the caves under the castle as all royal ceremonies had for as long as anyone could remember, which is a very long time in the Underground. The room was glowing with yellowy-gold coming from the candles lit everywhere and the watery surfaces of the stone walls reflected the light into every corner of the room, making it be covered in the glow. There was a black pit in the middle of the central cave with deep water within it. The water looked like a mere puddle to untrained eyes, with a black ink inside of it, but to those who were familiar it was a clear liquid which went farther than light could reach. It was the most private of ceremonies performed by fae as most others needed witnesses to observe yet only Jareth, his parents, Alk (his manservant and best friend) and the priest were in the cave. Old rites were stated first, then his parents and family had to step away from Jareth to symbolise him being able to provide for himself. The main act of the ceremony had to take place next; he had to find his own magics.
As a child, no fae possesses any coherent form of magic and has to borrow from his parents to learn to control and utilise it. To become an adult, Jareth has to let go of his parents' magics and find his own. The way to do this is to jump into the dark pool of water in the cave and find his own way up, knowing that the cave floor will form above him where he jumped in. Nearly no fae talk about this part in terms of what specifically happens yet for all it is a time to find oneself. For some, it takes days – one man claimed hours - , yet most can take months, years, decades or centuries to complete. The closest thing in human culture would either be a pilgrimage of sorts, or a time to travel the world ito find oneself. Jareth knew this as he was about to jump into the water, he removed his fine white shirt and threw it on the floor next to him as he thought it would be no good to keep it with him while swimming for what could be years. He braced himself for diving, his hands above his head, and jumped into the water as he drew in what could've been his last breath.
The water was liquid ice to the boy who grew up in the heat, cold and heavy, and a needle pricking into him at every place the water touched skin. His eyes stung as he opened them and he could see dark nothingness ahead and looking above, only the same. The water felt as if it was ripping a layer off of him, like skinning him alive yet he knew it wasn't his skin that was being removed. As if by instinct he knew it was his parents' magics that were being forcibly removed from him. Being sucked out of him by his surroundings like water down a drain and it keeps flowing down the hole where he could not follow it. He started to swim past the pain, it only increased though. His muscles ached and his last breath was stuck in his throat and lungs. It was his only way to stay alive and he swallowed the air back to his lungs. He swam for what seemed like days into nothingness. There were patches of water which were warmer than others and he could tell that overall it seemed to be getting warmer so he kept swimming in that direction blindly. All he could do was focus on his own muscles exerting all the effort they could to go on and not to stop. His arms hurt. His legs hurt. His hands had cramped. His Thighs burned with every movement. His neck strained. His lower body called out for him to stop and his chest screamed for the release of the air inside it which was stuck inside it. His body yelled to his mind, sobbing and crying for its indescribable pain.
It was ages that Jareth continued like this, he swam further into darkness knowing he was alone under the water with only screaming muscles for company. The force of the air in his chest getting greater with each stroke he took. It became all he could think about all he knew about himself. It took him what seemed like eons to come to the point where he released the breath. He was no closer to the end of the water than when he started yet moments before he lost his air, he consoled himself with the fact that he had resisted the urge to exhale until this point. When the bubbles rose from his mouth, he knew he was soon going to go and took in a deep breath of water to speed the process and soothe his lungs in his last conscious seconds. He thought of the heat of the Labyrinth, his homeland, and how the sun on his neck was the best feeling in the world. Jareth fell unconscious to that and did not realise the sparks that flew from his fingers when he thought of his home.
He woke up slowly, not realising he was still alive until he opened his eyes to more darkness. He was lying on the ground, dirt or sand, and sat up. It took him several minutes to realise he wasn't still underwater and was breathing in air. He felt his head and his hair was dry and ragged. He must've been out of the water for some time then. Jareth felt around him for anything that could be around yet his hand found grains of dirt and nothing more. He had found a way of getting out of the watery depths which would only be possible by using magics, his magics. So why isn't he home?
"Why aren't I home?" His voice was ragged and it felt strange to say something aloud to the darkness.
"I used magic, I'm meant to be home now." No one answered.
"I used my magics!" Jareth was yelling now, somehow having risen to his feet in a mixture of desperation and anger at this world of darkness.
"Take me home! Now! I need to go home, so take me there!"
There was nothing to be heard except his own quickened breathing. He stared into the nothingness and somehow knew that the nothingness stared back, as if the world itself was assessing his own adequacy and character. It said nothing for a long while.
Jareth sat down again and began to plan a way to light up the world when he felt the smallest ray on his back. Fae are very sensitive to all eight of their senses and could feel the slightest brush of light on their skin and see farther than nearly all other types of creatures could combined. He had felt a ray of light on his back, he turned around to see the sliver of light coming from the horizon. It was growing. The golden light was growing! It was the first light he had seen since he became immersed into the water and now there it was. He jumped up, as if to pay his respects to the light like he had done to important visitors coming to see his parents. He could tell it was a ball of light soon enough and when it kept rising, soaking the land in multicolour and warmth, he knew it was the sun. He was back on the surface of the land, no longer in darkness, no longer alone as he has the sun.