Sarah sat on the bench, it's cold metal seat chilling her bones. She loved to come down to the bustling park and watch the people when the weather was agreeable. But she had sensed an urge to come on this chilly day, it felt as though a thread wound around her heart and tugged. So she had called her son, and he and his family picked her up and they had all come together. She rarely left the house anymore, and never without someone with her. Such was the price of the frailty that came with living many long years. She had lived every moment to its fullest, and she had only one regret.
Just one.
She pulled her shawl a little tighter, the scratch of the wool a comfort against the chill breeze. It was still just the beginning of spring, the sun trying to peek through the heavy clouds that glided overhead. The little children played, their laughter almost lyrical and blending with the song of birds who flitted in the trees, the bright green of new buds sprinkled among their bare branches. It was picturesque. As she sat, content to savor this moment, a flicker of white caught the corner of her sight. She turned to look at its source, finding a stoic white barn owl perched on the tree nearest to her. The corner of her lips turned in the faintest of smirks, her gaze holding the owl's eyes in turn, a knowing look passing between them. The crunch of shoes on gravel shook her from her reverie.
"Wind seems to be picking up, might be a storm this afternoon. I think it might be time to go now, mom. What do you say?" The man whose voice called to her reached out his hand.
Sarah's eyes never left the owl. "Yes, I suppose you're right."
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Sarah bustled around her home most of the afternoon, tidying things that were already well-kept while the rain fell in a light pitter-patter outside her windows. By evening, she had finally exhausted herself. She sat gently in her favorite armchair, the soft leather a delightful contrast to the hard bench from earlier that day. She turned on the single lamp sitting on the table next to her, and pulled a brightly colored afghan over her legs. The riot of colors stood out against the muted darkness of the room, as even the little lamp's light could not reach every corner of her cozy living room. She surveyed all before her: the couches that held so many happy meetings, the misshapen hand-made nick-knacks from children and grandchildren alike, the photos of the smiling faces of her family and late husband on her mantle. So many beautiful memories had been made in this home. Taking one more cursory glance, she closed her eyes and spoke quietly into the room, her voice no more than a whisper.
"I wish the Goblin King would come to me right now."
When her eyes opened, he stood there before her in the magnificent midnight blue regalia she saw in a dream so long ago. Electric ran through her veins as she stared at him, his features were as beautiful and terrible as she remembered. His sharp brows with their royal markings, the angular jaw and high cheek bones, the striking blond hair that fell in wisps around his face. He was a resplendent as a summer night with a deep velvet sky and stars that sparkled like jewels. He looked as though he hadn't aged a single day. She looked at her own hands then. She was no longer youthful, the many year's slow march wearing paths over her cheeks, leaving creases by her mouth and eyes and shriveling her hands. She wished… no. She wouldn't even think those words. Words have power, even unspoken ones.
"You called me, Sarah." The Goblin King spoke in the slow drawl that she remembered, that would often visit her dreams. She looked up to meet his eyes. She was taken aback when she found no anger in his features, and no smirk on his lips. There was something else there, though… sadness, perhaps.
"I did."
"Why did you call me now, Sarah?
Her chest fell as she let out a long sigh. She picked at the fibres of her blanket, pulling at little loose strings and avoiding his gaze. She didn't know where to begin. Where would one begin after so many years apart? Her mind raced and all the words skittered away from her like water drops on a hot pan.
"Sarah?" There was something in his tone then that she hadn't heard before. Concern and a longing that her own heart seemed to echo.
Once again meeting his gaze, she saw a softness there and it gave her the courage to speak.
"I have been having a dream lately. I wake in a field of endless flowers, warmth in the air. The sun seems to shine forever and all my worries, my regret, just fades away." Her eyes seemed to glaze a little at the thought. She blinked a few times and then continued.
"I have a wish, Goblin King."
He looked at her pointedly with the use of such formality. It felt odd and cold coming from her lips. "Sarah, you know my name. Speak it and I may yet grant your wish."
"I have a wish… Jareth" Her throat became tight with emotions she hadn't felt in a long, long while. She saw his eyes close briefly, as if drinking her words into his very soul.
"And what is your wish?"
"I wish that you would dance with me… one last time." There was no coyness to her voice, only sincerity and a deep weariness.
She watched as Jareth sighed, glancing at the floor as he contemplated her request. The seconds seemed to stretch on, trapped forever in the pensive air that hung about them. Then, as if the spell over that moment had broken, he was directly in front of her and holding out his hand.
"I will grant your wish, but on one condition. You must grant mine in return."
She took his hand and rose unsteadily, the afghan pooling unceremoniously at her feet. Grasping her hand, he slowly twirled her around and she felt tingling spread from her head to her toes. Her skin was raised in goosebumps and she realized that he was using magic on her. When she stopped spinning, she looked down at her body and gasped. She was clothed in an elegant floor-length silver dress that sparkled when she moved. It had a sweetheart neckline and the fabric clung to her hips, flaring just below the knees. Her hands with once wrinkled skin were now taught and soft. She gazed into the mirror that hung over her fireplace and she saw a much younger self. Her emerald eyes burned brightly in her reflection. She turned away to look into Jareth's face, a question burning on her tongue. He spoke before her question could leave her throat.
"It is a simple glamour. I wanted to grant your wish as fully as your heart desired. Is this what your heart desired, Precious?"
"Yes."
At that, he slid one arm around her waist, the other taking her hand in his. His hand felt warm in hers, and it was only then she realized that he wasn't wearing gloves. He pulled her closely to him, and as they began to sway together the room seemed to melt away, leaving only the music that began to swell around them. She lay her head against his chest and breathed deeply. His scent filled her, like summer and rain, spice and musk, like the essence of magic itself and the remnants of dreams that could never come true. Not now.
"I am sorry, Jareth."
"Of what are you sorry, Precious?"
She closed her eyes as tears began to gather behind her lids, threatening to spill over her cheeks and onto his vest.
"I rejected you. I rejected you and then I never called for you. I left you alone when I had the power to welcome you back in. I shouldn't have been a coward, I should have let you know my feelings. I wish… I regret not spending my life with you."
He gathered her chin in his hand, looking deeply into her eyes as she allowed her hand to fall lightly to his chest.
"There is no need for apologies. Perhaps I was too eager. You were still a child, though you yearned to be a woman. Fear can warp even the best of intentions, and I frightened you."
"You frighten most beings."
She felt the rumble of his laughter against her fingertips. His hand traveled to her cheek in a slow caress. "I do."
"You don't scare me anymore, Goblin King." Her eyes steadily held his, searching for a sign that her challenge would not go unmet.
"I don't? You are still as feisty as I remember. If you are so brave, then now is the time that you should fulfill your end of our agreement." He sounded amused, meeting her challenge with one of his own.
"What wish could I possibly grant for the King of Dreams? I have no magic of my own."
"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, Sarah. You've always had me under your spell. No matter, as the wish I have does not require magic. I wish that you would grant me one kiss."
His thumb caressed her cheek as he bent nearer to her, his lips feather-light over hers. She leaned into him, threading both her hands through his soft hair at the nape of his neck, their lips meeting fully as she deepened their kiss. The tears she had fought so hard to hold back came forth, spilling perfect crystals from her lashes that trailed down to her chin. When he finally broke the kiss, he swept away her tears with his fingertips.
"You give me too precious of a gift, my dearest Sarah." His arms came to rest again at her waist, holding her intimately as they continued to sway. Sarah lay her head on his chest once again. He felt the almost indiscernible rise and fall of her chest as she pressed herself to him, the breaths coming slower and more deliberate every moment that passed.
"I would have made a terrible Goblin Queen."
Jareth scoffed at her remark. "You would have been magnificent."
"I wonder what your basis for comparison is?" He did not miss the little jibe in her playful words. His delight at her wit was short lived, however, when he felt her frail body tense.
"Do you still love me?"
Her voice was so light he almost hadn't caught it. He could hear the hope in her quavering voice.
"I never stopped loving you, Precious."
She sighed when she heard him, relief washing over her body, leaving weary muscles in its wake.
"I love you, Jareth. I regret that I didn't realize it in time." Joy and sorrow mingled with her admission.
His chest constricted at her words. These were the words he had silently wished to hear so long ago. The words he yearned for every moment over the long and lonely years that separated them further. Words that held so much power over him and words that were heard much, much too late. He lay his cheek against the top of her head, feeling her silky tresses against his skin.
"Stay with me, please? Let me dance with you until morning." The pleading was evident, even as her voice became weak.
"I will do that for you, My Love. However, when the sun rises, it will be time to go."
"I understand."
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The next morning was bright and beautiful, the rain breathing life into the earth itself, encouraging new growth as only Spring can. The jangling of keys in the lock echoed through the house, and steps followed shortly after the door was opened.
"Mom? Are you awake? I thought today we could go to the lake and feed the ducks, you know how much the kids love…"
His voice trailed off when he entered the living room, his eyes landing on the elderly woman in the armchair. She was covered in her favorite afghan, her arms resting lightly on her lap. Her eyes were closed and she had a smile on her lips, as if she were having a beautiful dream. He crossed to her, feeling her neck for a pulse and finding nothing. There was no gentle breath from her lungs. He bowed his head and rested his hands on hers.
"I hope you are at peace."
It was as he clasped her hands that he felt something he had not seen before. Curious, he pulled her fingers aside.
There, in her lap, was a single white feather.