For as long as she could remember, her dreams were of the realm of the goblin king; she had been told of her mother's adventure for just as long.
At the age of five, her mother began reading to her from a very large, very old book; the one her mother told her, upon occasion, had given her the power to escape the labyrinth and rescue her brother. The book had not seemed to have had the power to save her parents' marriage, had not given her mother the words needed, and Emily had thought then, at the age of 10, that things had a way of coming full circle. She was not surprised to find herself with a step-father at age 12, nor a younger brother at almost 14.
The looks her mother gave her during her pregnancy spoke volumes and amused Emily to no end. Her mother, Sarah, had stopped telling her the story when she was nine; a tactic assent to the demands of a frustrated and concerned husband. He had not like how she had always been so specific in the accounting, how detailed in the description, how she seemed to truly believe it happened. He also hadn't liked the way she would talk to her mirror. To people who were not there; who did not exist.
When Emily was older, she wondered how on earth her mother had won custody. It was unfortunate that once she actually wondered enough to ask, albeit in a much nicer way, her mother had informed her that her father had been fine with open visitation – he hadn't wanted her. He hadn't wanted the daughter who spoke of dreams of a place that existed only in his wife's imagination; who he would catch taking a second quick look at his wife's mirror – as though she had saw something, if only for a moment. He had not wanted the daughter whose eyes always bespoke disappointment and made him feel lacking.
She has always been a quiet and serious child; stubborn and passionate when she felt the situation called for it. She had always been too intelligent, mature beyond her years. She knew her mother worried that, somehow, her calm and, according to those who would know, unnatural stillness was the result of her adventure while she was on the cusp of womanhood. That Emily had had her father's bright green eyes, auburn hair, and fair complexion was a blessing; otherwise no one would have believed she was his.
Soon after she began reading from the book to Emily, her mother would leave it behind; it was unspoken, but Emily always understood her mother what that meant. Not long after that, a barn owl would occasionally come by – either settling along her window sill or in the closest tree. This, she never shared with her mother, but with the owl she would share everything. She would tell the owl on its visits all about anything that was new – books she had read or were being read to her, the children in school who did not know what to do with her, the adults and the way they would look at her, and, as the time passed, the process that was the end of her parents' marriage.
At the age of seven, she asked her mother specifically about Jareth. She had sighed, her smile a little bitter, and replied. "I was a fifteen year old girl, astonished to find that my world of make-believe was real and that I HAD somehow caught the eye of the goblin king. I was also desperately trying to save my brother who I had sent to the boogyman because I was fifteen, and so very angry at my circumstances." She paused. "I did not, and do not, think he was sincere in his declaration of affection; at the time, I though he just wanted to win and was willing to play on a teenage girl's naïve need for love to do it."
"What if he had always watched you from afar, but needed you to call for him before he could meet you properly?" Emily pushed, having thought it through over and over again.
Sarah smile bespoke a bit more amusement. "If he could watch me, then he could come to me; he is, after all, the Goblin King." And that was that.
Later that evening, after her mother had tucked her into bed, Emily had watched for the owl to come. It did, and she was slightly surprised to realize she was worried it wouldn't. She opened the window and waited for it to move close enough to hear her.
"Mum still thinks about you." She said, looking at the owl seriously and ignoring the odd blink and squint that followed her statement. "She did not believe you meant what you said, just that you wanted to keep Uncle Toby." The owl flicked its wings in agitation. "In her defense, stealing a girl's brother is not way to make a good first impression." She smiled a bit. "You do know… I am not my mother." It dipped its body in agreement and flew to the tree, apparently done with the conversation.
::: AtW :::
When Emily was nine years old, she became very, very ill. She did not remember much from that time; just the unbearable heat, the consistent and encompassing throbbing pain, and never quite catching her breath. She had been hospitalized, and none of the doctors or specialists could identify or treat whatever had been ailing her. Her mother told her, at one of the points that Emily was lucid enough to understand, that they were very worried they would not be able to fix her. Emily had known what that meant; and had asked, slowly, haltingly, and with great care, that they keep the window open.
At some point, through the heat and the pain and the lack of air, Emily felt strong hands lift her head and a wet sweetness trickle down her throat. Fevered eyes registered shocks of blonde hair and glimpses of blue eyes. The thought she heard a voice tell her she called for him, and that he would always come to her.
Later she learned once she was home recovering, through the loud and angry voices of her parents, that she had said repeatedly that the Goblin King would come for her; that he would save her. She had begged for his help with gasping breaths, between her fevered moans of pain. That she was young and had been sick did not signify to her father; she was old enough to know better, if Sarah had not filled her young and impressionable mind with trash like her silly stories she would not be as warped as… Emily had opened the large book by her bed and focused all her attention of the words, as though they were the most important thing in the world. Maybe they were, if they were truly the link between this world and the realm of the Goblin King.
The voices stopped, eventually, though she did not notice. Her mind was filled with the words and, when she spoke them aloud, as her mother before her, they were meant not for the owl that may have been watching her, but for her father and his inability to see. "You have no power over me," she whispered.
The stories stopped after that and her mother changed the subject if Emily ever attempted to discuss it. Emily was aware that she was considered some sort of medical miracle; that it only added to her air of other and odd. Her mother had never lied to her and Emily was unsure whether or not to consider the purposeful ignorance and subject change as some sort of betrayal. In the end, she could not blame her mother for trying to smooth things over with her father and decided; when the labyrinth, the book, and her mother's friends did not become acceptable after the divorce and introduction of the man who would become her step-father, she decided that her mother wanted to put it behind her. Or maybe she thought Emily had forgotten and put it away like other early childhood nonsense.
Time passed, her mother married, they moved, and throughout it all the owl would occasionally visit her window. Emily never attempted to join in with the antics of children her age, never asked to join a sport team or activity; she would read, she would write, and she would draw, sculpt, and paint. She did not show her mother any work she created based on her dreams, not without first making it much more whimsical, sweet, or occasionally abstract. The pictures she left unaltered, she hid; instinct telling her that somehow, it was something to keep hidden. She shared her true work with the owl.
::: AtW :::
At the age of thirteen, Emily awkwardly discovered other people found her to be attractive. In all honestly, it was not something she particularly thought or cared much about. She had left the drama and unease to her peers partly because she could not be bothered, and partly because the whole concept of basing self-worth on genetically inherited features seemed foolish.
She had been standing in the hallway after being politely asked to leave her homeroom during a parent-teacher conference. The door was cracked, as Emily did seem to have a problem with closing doors or windows, and she leaned back against the wall to listen.
"Emily is very polite, well-mannered, quiet, and intelligent," her teacher began, causing Emily to wonder why she had been excused really, "much more than is normal for girls her age." She paused. "It is a bit concerning, as I am sure you have been told by other teachers, that she seems oddly removed from her peer group."
"Has she been having trouble with the other children?" Her mother asked, slightly surprised. Emily had never had so much as a heated discussion with another person, choosing to end a conversation as soon as there is a difference in opinion – feeling it is not her place to sway or impose her thoughts on others.
"No! Not at all!" Her teacher assured her mother and hesitated. "It would not really even be noticeable were the attempts of her classmates, a very large number of them boys, not so very obvious and loud." She cleared her throat. "A lot of the boys have been trying to catch Emily's eye to the point of absolute class disruption."
Emily's brow furrowed. Thinking that in recent months, there had been much more in the way of class disruption, people loudly attempting to gain her attention, and a lot of people being sent to the principal's office. It had never occurred to her that it was in anyway related to her; honestly, she spoke to every student in her year the same, did not generally initiate conversation or attempt to spend time with them. Now it seemed it was due to her development, which oddly caused her to feel embarrassed.
"I do not understand…" Her mother began, speaking slowly as though attempting to puzzle it out. "Emily is an exemplary student – something she did not get from me, is kind and polite – again not something I was at her age, and we needed a conference because the boys in class have realized that she is becoming a very beautiful young woman?"
Emily could hear her teacher shift uncomfortably. "I just wanted to bring your attention to her lack of interest in her peers, despite their attempts at gaining her attention or befriending her." She paused. "Honestly Mrs. Freeman, the concern is from her lack of socialization. If she continues to be so aloof, I am sure you will hear more about it."
"I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Beverly, and will keep it in mind."
Emily moved further away from the door, so as not to be caught eavesdropping. Attraction was a foreign concept, so was feigning interest in people and activities so as to be 'normal'. Emily has never been normal, had heard the discussions (being quiet had its perks, though most people would not enjoy hearing such things said about them) and had decided that she would rather be herself, as strange as she may seem, than to try to change for people who would rather not know her – not really know her anyway.
On the car ride home, Emily could feel her mother looking at her. "I know you were listening." Sarah said, keeping her attention largely on the road. Emily made a noncommittal noise. Her mother sighed and pulled off the road. Emily looked at her, reflecting in that moment that her mother was a very beautiful woman and that the way she looked at her had not changed – there was no worry or judgment in her mother's eyes, just love and acceptance.
"I will never ask you to be something you are not; you are beautiful, wonderful, and more than I could have ever hoped, let alone ask for. People will expect you to fit a mold just because everyone else made the choice to do so." She smiled. "I made that choice too, feeling that it would be better and easier in the long run." She quieted a moment and tucked a bit of hair behind Emily's ear. "Stay strong, do not compromise, and never sacrifice who you are to make other people more comfortable."
Emily nodded, smiling, and turned back to the window as her mother pulled back onto the road. She had not intended to do otherwise.
That evening, she had watched her window, which she had left partially open, hoping the owl would visit. If it came, she did not see it, and she spoke to the darkness anyway – just releasing the words and letting it cleanse her of the odd feeling of embarrassment she was sure would resurface when she returned to school.
"I am pretty, which is silly, but I refuse to be silly just because I am pretty."
:::ATW:::
On the cusp of her 16th year, Emily learned that some people who choose to fit the mold, do so to hide the fact that they are monsters.
Oh, she had known from her mother's adventure that looks could be deceiving. Her own life experience had taught her that people's actions belied their words, and vice versa. She had heard the outright taunts, weathered the occasional attempt at confrontation, and largely ignored the people who thought that because she was different, odd, that they were entitled or expected to use what means they had at their disposal to 'put her in her place'.
She had responded by reading a lot of books on self-defense and practiced in her bedroom. She knew it would likely not be very effective. It was not as though she was learning from an instructor; she was just imitating material as she interpreted. Emily intended it as a last resort, ever hopeful it would not be a skill she would need to test. She had explained what she was doing and why on an occasion the owl visited while she was practicing.
It started visiting a lot more often thereafter and she sometimes thought she might have seen it on school ground, though she thought it may be wishful thinking on her part.
Her Uncle Toby came to visit on spring break. It was his final year of his undergraduate program, being only five and a half years older than Emily. They did not see him often after the move, and Emily had not been interested in him overmuch when she was younger. She had been fascinated at first meeting, she was told by her mother, seeing the boy she had been told the Goblin King had fought to keep. In the end, he was nothing special; just a teenage boy who had no time or interest in his young niece and had not grown too close or fond of the sister who went through so much to rescue him.
Emily couldn't really blame him; he likely barely remembered the event and would not know what to make of what he did. She could see how, being so young, the whole thing could have been terrifying, traumatic, and considering it all – he was much closer to normal than herself or her mother.
Toby had stopped in to stay with them for a couple days; he was traveling with a friend who was from the area and thought it may be nice to have a place to stay that was not his friend's parents' house. Sarah had welcomed him in, seemingly pleased, and Emily was interested enough to listen while they caught up. She had smiled and laughed as he and his friend, on the second night, spent the whole of dinner regaling them with tales of college antics she was sure he would wish no one knew in a short number of years.
Toby and his friend had gone out after dinner, supposedly to places she was either too young or disinclined to go. Her mother had smiled and rolled her eyes when she and her step-father were invited along. Emily did not mind being left in charge of her half-brother, though her mother very rarely allowed it. It was a Saturday, with no work or appointments to follow the next, so Emily encouraged them to go, and set up a space in her bedroom for her brother, Anthony.
The owl came to visit, her window always open, and she told it about her uncle, his friend, and that they were all out and about for the evening. She was feeling a little wistful, her one friend having never said a word to her. She made sure Anthony was comfortable and warm as he slept before speaking for to her guest.
"Sometimes, I wish so much that you would speak to me. And…" She paused, trying to find the words, "I hope you know you always have my leave. Never think you have to wait for me to call you by name or title." She smiled as it blinked at her, one eye at a time.
She wished she could reach and stroke its feathers, something she often thought of but never did. She supposed there were rules for such things and, as she had not been given permission, she was sure it would be some sort of violation.
"I will be an adult soon, free to go where I will." She let the words hang in the air, hoping it understood what she had left unsaid. That she would go with him, if he wanted, once she was free to do so. That she would like to know him as he knew her; that they could be friends truly.
"I didn't know you have a pet." A quiet voice said from behind her. She froze, thinking quickly and knowing that she had locked the doors and made sure the house was secure before she brought Anthony up to her room. Anthony. She glanced at her half-brother, glad to see he was still asleep, before turning slowly to face the intruder. She was not surprised to see it was her uncle's friend, as she had seen his reflection in her window and, though the voice had been quiet, she had heard him speak not too long ago.
Knowing it was a passing acquaintance did not calm her heart or her nerves. She was oddly detached, likely her body's response to the potential threat; fear would come later she was sure. She was alone in the house with her very young sibling asleep in the room with her. Her parents and uncle were not expected back any time soon. It was a recipe for very, very, bad things.
"Did you forget something?" She asked, just as quietly, hands loosely as her sides. "It was my understanding you were all going out and that you would be going to your parent's thereafter."
He smirked and her hands wanted to tremble. "Yes, you seemed very interested to know where I would be staying tonight." He paused, moving further into the room. "It was very cleverly done, letting me know you were interested and pushing your parent's out the door. Making sure everyone knew you would be just fine alone."
Emily did not know what to do – move closer to Anthony in case he needed additional protection or to try to maneuver her way to the door. "Well," she began her voice still, somehow, even, "if I were alone, I would be just fine." She tilted her head. "If you would please leave my bedroom, and my house, I would greatly appreciate it."
His chuckle was like ice down her spine and the hard glint in his eye reinforced it. "So that is the way you want to play it; more hard to get. You're gonna act as though you hadn't spent the whole of dinner eyeing me and giving me the come-hither looks." He took a step towards her. "To where I find myself thinking, yeah, she's young but what is five years, and she likely knows what she wants." Another step.
"What I want, to be completely clear, is for you to leave and not come back. I do not know you, do not wish to know you, and do not like or feel comfortable with you in my bedroom." She said, her voice clear in the quiet of the room. He took another step.
"You are not yet at the point of no-return." Emily continued. "If you push this any further, it is likely to end very badly for one or both of us." She stepped to the side, away from Anthony and hoping to keep his attention. One more step and she would be within his reach, something she did not want. Not at all.
"The moment our eyes met, there was no return for us sweet-heart." He said and took that final step.
Oh, her body had been prepared, to bolt or to fight. She tried to dodge when he reached for her, but her sidestep had made her intention known. When his hand wrapped around her wrist, she tried the move she had rehearsed time and time again.
It worked, in a way, but as she had not actually tried it against a person, it was not as effective as it could have been. She had twisted until she felt his wrist pop and she bolted towards the door. Two feet, she only made it two feet before his arms locked around her and she found herself thrown roughly onto her bed and her hands trapped above her head with his forearm.
His fist connected with her temple and the world went black.
Emily had gone in and out of consciousness, surfacing to pain and choosing to sink back into the pain-free dark. In the moments of awareness, she could hear people around her; she was in the hospital with a concussion. In the soft, pain-free dark, she saw him – her Goblin King.
"I am so sorry Sarah… I had no idea. He said he had to see about a girl and would be right back." She heard Toby say as she was met once more with the throbbing pain in her head. "I mean, I thought he was paying a little too much attention to her, ya know? Even mentioned she is only 15."
"Toby…" Her mother's voice was soft, full of exhaustion and sadness. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't. I didn't see it either." She paused. "How did… how did you know something was wrong?"
The silence hung over the room.
"I put my hand in my pocket… there was a smooth little ball that shouldn't have been there and when I touched it… I heard Emily." The silence fell again. "Do you think… it was him? Who… stopped Michael?"
"If it was," her mother said slowly, "He will have earned my undying gratitude."
"But that would mean," Toby said, his voice urgent and interrupted.
"Emily will have her own choice to make. If or when the time comes." Her mother said with finality. She sighed. "I haven't mentioned any of it to her in almost seven years now. I know she remembers. I can see it in her smile when I am hesitant to leave Tony with her.
"I had thought that maybe, though she remembered, she stopped believing. That she had decided to let my past be a personal children's story." Her voice was slightly wistful, slightly bitter.
"Did you know, when she was five, I showed her a drawing I did of him. She looked at it for all of a minute before she told me he was hers." She laughed lightly. "I thought it was cute in a way, and could see that she meant it as much as one so young could… so I hid the picture. She hasn't seen it since."
"You did what you thought was best." Toby said, quietly. "And maybe, maybe, it was right."
"I guess we will just have to wait and see." Sarah said again.
"With a lot of things." Toby replied.
Emily left the throbbing pain again, if only to see her Goblin King for just a little while longer.
:: AtW ::
On Emily's 16th birthday she awoke to the most oddly wrapped gift she had ever seen resting on her pillow. Well over a month had passed since she returned home, and in that time she had not seen her owl once. She had left treats and a letter thanking him for the help; she always left the window open, just in case.
News of the incident had spread through the town and the school before Emily had even become awake and aware. When Michael also became awake and aware, he admitted everything under questioning; though the credibility for his story was faulty at best. He said he had had a bit of a miscommunication which had caused him to lose his temper and just as he had subdued her, a man had appeared and… subdued him. No one had seen another man.
Michael had not had a mark on him other than a broken wrist.
That was not the version of events that had made its way to the high school. The way her peers told, or were told it, Emily had been accosted in her bedroom – sustained a head injury, but had fought the attacker off until her family arrived a short while later and she went unconscious. Depending on the spin, she was a hero or a tease; a victim or a perpetrator. She did not care much either way, happy enough that it had resulted in a majority of her peers deciding that though she was odd, she really was not worth it.
Still, it had been weeks and no sign of her owl. Every night that passed after she returned home was another little prick of pain on her heart. It was her only friend, the one thing she shared everything with; her confidante. With each night that passed, she worried more and more that his protection had violated some rule she did not know, and he was somehow banished from her world.
She blinked the grit and sleep out of her eyes as her mind processed what she was seeing. It appeared to be a box, wrapped in gold flecked parchment. Her heart raced in her chest as she sat up and took the package into her trembling hands.
The parchment unfolded as soon as it was help within her hands, gold writing shown in the sunlight from her window; she slid the box onto her lap and lifted the paper to read.
My Emily,
You have always traveled my world within your dreams, which brought you to my attention. I have spent many an evening with you as you have grown and wish for you, on this day, if you so wish, to know your deepest dreams.
I cannot come to you my Emily, and cannot be true flesh without a lengthy consequence. Know that I wait for you to dream.
Your Goblin King,
Jareth
Inside the box was a crystal globe, not unlike that which her mother had described to her in the years before. She held the smooth clear stone in her hand, somehow comforted by the warmth it emitted. Within its depths, she saw what she had always known: Herself in the labyrinth, with odd looking friends, and seeing the Goblin King tentatively holding her hand.
She rubbed her thumbs along its surface, knowing that her deepest dream was hers and may not be shared.
:: AtW ::
Emily stood behind the podium, wearing her black robes with the gold sashes; her tassel dangling on the correct side. She was 18, Valedictorian, and about to deliver the speech that, somehow, was supposed to summarize the years they waited for this moment and the future at the edge of their awareness. So she spoke.
She spun a tale of the adventure they had had, separately but together. She spoke of friendship and betrayal, of choices made and consequences. She spoke of the truth, of individual roads to self-discovery. She spoke of individuality and making what is expected be what they expect of themselves. She spoke of the future as a place of hope, of despair, as full of wonder, and the adventure they had been truly waiting for.
Her words seemed to resonate with the audience; with the peers she never cared to know, the teachers who always claimed having her in their class was such a pleasure, and the parents and relatives who only knew of her in passing. She ended her speak with a wave of a hand and a disclaimer; today is just yesterday's tomorrow, and in tomorrow lies the realm of possibility.
Her mother drove her home from the ceremony. The silence in the vehicle heavy with what has yet to be said. Emily decided she should be the one to break it, to let the words change the quality of the air.
"I plan to go, Mum." She said softly.
"I know," Sarah replied.
In the evening of her first night of freedom, she kissed her mother and brother's cheeks before heading to her bedroom. Her mother's eyes had been full of pleas and arguments better left unsaid. She picked up the crystal globe, still somehow warm, and was not surprised to see the owl on her windowsill, left open as always.
"I call on you, Jareth, the Goblin King, to take me to your kingdom." She said, heart filling with hope, and happiness as the owl became the man she had always known him to be.
"Is this what your heart desires?" He asked, and his voice filled her with an emotion she had no name for as he offered her his hand.
"Always." She replied and took it.
They disappeared in an instant, in their wake was the crystal globe, reflecting a deepest dream made real.