A/N: Written in honor of David Bowie. This story might hurt. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.
Obviously, I don't own any part of Labyrinth. Nothing except my feels.
Sarah stares out the window, remembering how she got here. She feels the goblins fussing with her hair, her gown, her flowers. She doesn't care. She couldn't change the only thing that really mattered. So, what does any of this matter? But it matters to the goblins, so she lets them alone. Someone may as well be happy.
Was it really only that morning? Having woken up late, she was rushing, in a hurry to get to school. She had been up late the night before, enjoying her 18th birthday. She hopped out of the shower, threw some clothes on, and sat at her vanity to try to brush her hair out some.
That was when she saw it. The elegant parchment, hastily folded and looking like it had been tossed in her desk. She slowly sat the brush down and picked the parchment up, feeling the weight, knowing only a few people who would give her that. And knowing none of them are in the Aboveground.
She opened the note, and felt nothing but dread. Only a few words.
Need help. Things is bad. Promised to wait to tell ya until 18th birthday. Come quickly. Snap the feather when ya ready.
-Hoggle
There was no hesitating. She grabbed the feather, barely pausing long enough to note the fact that it was a gorgeous owl feather, and snapped it nearly in half.
The room whirled, clearly a different type of travel spell than she was used to. When it settled, she saw that she was in the Castle beyond the Goblin City.
Looking around, she recognized the throne room, but saw no one.
"Hoggle?" It came out as a stage whisper. There was no answer. "Hoggle?" Louder this time. After a few seconds, she heard someone coming.
A goblin poked his head in. "The Champion! We didn't think you would come! Please, come with me!"
Not knowing what else to do, she followed him. "Excuse me, I'm looking for my friend, Hoggle? Have you seen him? Do you know where he is?"
"He's right this way, miss. He's with His Majesty."
She instantly worried more. Hoggle has mentioned multiple times how scared he is of Jareth. The goblin stopped before a door, gestured and bowed, then trotted off. She squared her shoulders, gripped the handle, and shoved the door open.
Sarah hears the bells ringing in the distance, to most, a celebration. To a few, reminders of the changes, worry of how those changes will effect them. And to Sarah, simply someone telling her it's time. She stands, straightens her already prefect dress, raises her head high, and walks towards her new fate.
Blinded by the finery of the room, it took Sarah a few moments to see the individuals gathered around the bed. It wasn't until she heard Didymus proclaim "my lady!" that she noticed them. She took a few steps closer, until her eyes fell on the figure in the bed.
Sarah walks out of the hallway into throne room. In a white gown covered with flowers, her hair carefully styled into chaotic wonder. The doors have been thrown open, flowers hang from the rafters, lay on the floor, in the hands of almost everyone in attendance. But the most important person is missing.
"Hello, you precious thing." It was weak, hardly more than a whisper. Hoggle was standing by the bed, perfectly unharmed, but he got no more than a passing glance. She rushed over and dropped to her knees next to the once proud King.
"Is this why you stopped answering my calls? I thought you were angry, I thought you were done with me. Oh, Jareth, why didn't you tell me you were sick?"
After the night she defeated the Labyrinth, she and her friends partied until the sun was rising the next day. As she told them good-bye, Didymus, the final one to leave, made a request of her. "My lady, please, hear me out. I know you and his Majesty are not in agreement over what happened tonight, but please, call on him. For my sake. He was only trying to act in the best interests of young master Toby. He made you realize how deeply you care for your brother, how much you value him. His Majesty was also just following the rules of the land. He is king of the Goblin City, but also of the Wished Aways. He does not keep them there, but insures they find a healthy, loving home. Please, my lady. Call on him. He's not the villain you claim him to be."
She only hesitated a moment before she agreed. And then she went to bed.
The next night, however, she couldn't sleep. With nothing better to do, she went to the mirror.
"Goblin King? May I speak with you?"
After a few minutes of nothing, she gave up. She turned around to go to bed and nearly screamed at the sight of the arrogant king lounging there.
"Now, now, Sarah," he didn't even try to cover his mocking tone. "You did summon me here, didn't you?"
"I wanted to talk. Didymus said I should give you another chance. You wanted to make sure Toby was well cared for. It wasn't anything personal."
"Remind me to tell that arrogant little fluff ball to keep his mouth shut."
"I wanted to see if maybe I was wrong about you."
"And why should I care about your opinion of me?"
"I doubt you do. To you, I'm just some girl who ran your Labyrinth. Maybe everybody who tries wins it. Maybe I'm the only one. I don't know. But I would like to try."
"I suppose I can spare some time to make chit chat with you."
It is those memories that Sarah drew on for strength as she sat by the dying king's bed. The memories of her and Jareth, as he eventually allowed her to call him, sitting and talking. The memories of lunch in his world, and breakfast in hers. Memories of the two of them laughing and fighting and slowly growing closer than she would have believed possible. And those are what she drew on during the funeral the next day. She held herself steady and strong in front of his people, as he told her to do.
He had asked that she attend the reading of his will, as it did pertain to her.
"I don't care, I just want you to stay here with me. Please, Jareth." That got a smile out of him.
"Still so impertinent. Making demands on a king like that."
"No, not making demands of a king. Making demands of my best friend."
But it wasn't enough. After a few hours, he fell asleep. And then, he didn't wake up. When she had noticed his breathing had stopped, that was when she cried . She tried to wake him up. She screamed, she sobbed, she tried to shake him. The royal physician tried, as well, but he could do nothing.
And so, while his people sobbed in the streets, crowding as close as they could to his body, she didn't shed a tear.
"A good king," they said. "Terrifying in his anger, but a good king. He took care of us."
And so, while they lit the funeral pyre, she didn't cry.
When Hoggle gave her a letter from Jareth, she didn't cry. She didn't cry when it told her how he had seen her play acting in the park, and watched her, forbidden to interact with her unless she wished for him to by the laws of his land, and fallen in love with her. Or when it told her how he fell more in love with her those times they talked, the very same ones she was now using as strength.
She didn't cry when they read the will, proclaiming her to be the one to inherit everything, including the Kingdom.
She didn't cry when they arranged her dress and hair, when they made all the arrangements for her to take the crown.
She didn't cry when she took a hold of the Septre of Oberon and the Orb of Titanna, and promised to serve and protect the people entrusted into her care, and she didn't cry when the items infused her with the power of the Queen of the Labyrinth.
She didn't cry when she found Jareth's journal, where he explained everything.
No, she didn't cry again, until the day she transformed into her new secondary form, and discovered that she, too, was a white barn owl.
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