Opening Note:
Please beware of emotional triggers below.
This piece is rated as such for attempting to tackle very real life issues as the various psychological aftereffects a divorce that can occur in younger children, the lack of justice and investigation following sexual assault of a female, and PTSD.
I just felt like that needed to be clarified briefly beforehand.
. # .
Once again,
I dedicate this to Brytte Mystere,
simply because I adore her to pieces
(and because I also promised her another story a while ago)
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"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."
― Edgar Allan Poe, Eleonora
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(first, the fateful reunion)
"Sarah," the Goblin King suddenly takes a bold step forward, greeting her. He stands tall under the dim light of the full moon, spilling onto the floor through the window glass. "It's been quite some time."
Of course she's older. Eighteen, nineteen perhaps? Her pale cheeks less rounded with adolescence; and her striking green eyes— which still stand beautifully out from the long curtains of dark raven hair— widen in surprise.
"Don't," she bites out, commanding him, and with the reflexes of a cracking whip she reaches for the first solid object she can find. She means to aim it right at his head if she must, her knuckles turning white around the bulky music box. "D-Don't touch me! Get out, right now! I don't want you here!"
This particular reaction of hers is a little too animated, a bit too strange, even by his standards. Something isn't lining up right.
Curiously, the Goblin King tries again, "Sarah...," he coaxes her this time, a slightly softer approach which successfully pulls her out of her frenzied trance. She stiffens. "Were you expecting someone else to be lurking around here after dark?"
Her raised hand clutching the music box, gradually lowers to her side again. She doesn't throw it at him thankfully; and he just waits for the rest of the fog to clear from her mind, watching her steadily as she regains full awareness.
"Oh," she pauses, (I thought you were him), "it's you, Goblin King."
(phase I)
Sarah still dreams, and it isn't always a good thing, because they're not really dreams at all. They're nightmares. Post-traumatic stress.
Usually, she prefers to sleep on her right side, curled up against the pillows with her hair tucked softly beneath her. She may occasionally roll over or kick off the sheets. Jareth however sleeps stomach-down, mainly being the quieter one. He'll hardly move during the night, while breathing contently, seemingly relaxed and ever so confident even in his resting state. He somehow has gained the silly habit of slinging his arm over her waist, just to prove she is save and there's no need to fret so much.
But sometimes, there are nights when Sarah's nightmares will get the better of her. Terror strikes hard during her slumber, when they're in his bed, where she is the most venerable. Jareth knows that Sarah tries not to alarm him, tries to hide it from him, but obviously it's getting harder for her to do now that he's laying right next to her on a more frequent basis.
She'll plead softly under her breath, either whimpering her brother's name or begging her mother to come back, as if she's helplessly afraid of losing them forever. But on Sarah's worst nights (like tonight), she jolts up, screaming and thrashing about in pure anguish as she attempts to fight off a phantom of a boy who's not even there.
She sits there, panting.
Jareth soon follows suit, exhaling deeply, seizing her by the shoulders. And gently, he angles her towards him. "Sarah, look at me."
She does, though not before she glances around his chambers first to remember exactly where she is, and who was there with her.
"Breathe, Sarah," he soothes, familiar, deep and musical. "It was but a dream. One dream that is not real, and never will be."
"I—" she shudders, lowering her eyes, "I thought — sorry—"
(I thought he was here.)
Jareth doesn't force her to say more, doesn't push her over the edge, and there was no need for her to apologize. He's patient enough for the most part, waiting until she can choke down the too-obvious sob threatening to escape her throat. Sighing again, her head finally comes to rest against his shoulder and nothing else.
He tenses for a second or two before he muses aloud, "...How old are you now exactly?" He makes himself sound genuinely curious, as if he hadn't noticed just how much she has changed since their whole original fiasco involving Toby.
"I'll be turning twenty in two weeks from today." Sarah suspects that he must've guessed this already, surely. He doesn't have to ask her about certain timelines or dates when his Fae magic can literally master and alter time itself. She knows that he can see all sorts of things if he wants to, no matter the hour, day, or year. But he asks anyhow. Probably another distraction, a way to get her to refocus on what's right in front of her in the moment versus what's in her past. Sarah can feel how intent his gaze is when he continues to stroke her hair back, studying her profile extra carefully. "So... about four, basically five years have passed since I saw you last."
"Here, it was basically five months."
Sarah instantly realizes what he means; because it does distract her, it catches her attention. It's like a pitch in the nervous system, a poke to the spine that almost makes her flinch. Her mindset shifts sideways to a whole new issue and she pieces it together, bites her lip, somewhat uncomfortable about it: whereas she had a reasonable amount of time to recover and readjust in her own world after their final encounter, apparently Jareth's own setbacks were still quite fresh in comparison.
How this love affair, this quasi-committed relationship with Jareth had officially began... well, Sarah doesn't even try to pinpoint any precise details, save for the fact that the attraction may clearly be less one-sided.
They had steadily became friends, bosom companions, in spite of a few past grudges still gnawing at him. But eventually after that, all that history bubbling between the two of them just grew stronger during each visit. It just pulled them in closer and closer, and then, of course their first kiss had happened. That was the catalyst for everything that had clearly followed.
Sarah doesn't allow herself to dwell on the series of facts for long, though. She never does. She couldn't! By this point, her bond with Jareth has developed in a very bizarre, yet sentimental and nostalgic way. Their story is getting far too complex and too twisted to start pulling on loose threads that could unravel it all. That's definitely one rabbit hole Sarah isn't so willing to dive into.
She's currently dealing with some degree of personal madness as it is already, so, one chaotic wonderland is enough. Her daily routine these days can be only be described as partially-normal. She still attends her therapy sessions once a month because her father paid for them in advance, and she'll go to her college classes... but only sometimes. Thanks to Jareth's classic old magic tricks, her old vanity mirror serves as her individual passageway, linking the two worlds together. So customarily she's either there at school, or at her father's house, watching movies with Toby, reading him classic fables and tucking him into bed with a prayer for sweet dreams... or, really, most of the time she's here at the heart of the Labyrinth, rooming in the Castle Beyond with the Goblin King himself and all his native creatures.
But still...
"Jareth," she responds with a concerned whisper, not even sure what to say in return, "for your sake, haven't you wanted to move on? Let it go, and just forget about me?"
She's only been rubbing salt into his open wounds. Why would he tolerate that?
"Oh, but alas," he drawls out, "true love has become my main misfortune since then, fair maiden. It's actually the one thing that constantly temps me to steal and keep you here for good..."
"Where I come from, some people would call that obsession, Jareth, not true love."
"Whatever name you call it by, we're speaking of the same concept."
"No, how could it be the same?"
"Everyone else out there seeking 'true love' becomes entirely focused on it, do they not? It isn't just a hobby or a simple goal they have in mind, it's a real expectation. A moral code they decide to live by. Most of you mortals enjoy hearing about it, reading about it, or writing about it. Though many before them have even died for true love, it's something that is planted in the back of everyone's consciousness," then he adds, "and regularly, it just keeps growing with more and more urgency until it's utterly impossible to ignore. It's even at the center of all those stories you know so well. It roots itself deep behind every word, each page, and it turns out to be the core of the leading character's plans and motives. Isn't that obsession?"
She pulls away from his side just enough to remake eye contact, the sharp tips of his Fae nails are still drawing idle circles across her shoulder blades. "I'm a bit confused. You discuss true love as if it's a bad thing, like it's a weakness to have. Like I'm a weakness to have. But isn't 'true love' supposed to be worth fighting for? Love has the power to conquer all things. Love has its own kind of magic, right?"
"Nevertheless, you're also forgetting that magic always comes with a price, my precious thing. Love can hurt others in the process. It's sly, ruthless, relentless, and because it never dies... it keeps on slowly killing its victims who fall into its clutches over and over again. When we love, we are doomed."
"Say whatever you want, Goblin King… but that's not what this is..."
(phase II of the relationship; the early part of it)
"You still blame me for most of your troubles?" Jareth's voice quickly iced over. He looked aggravated, scorned, and altogether dismayed. His eyes alone told her that she was exhausting him again, mentally and emotionally... brutally picking at his patience, peeling at his heart scrap by bloody scrap. "Is that it?"
The desert-like sun hanging high above the Castle Beyond outlined his stiff stately form, making it seem like he literally was blazing with fire and fury. Needless to say, the sight felt fairly appropriate.
"Sometimes," Sarah confessed afterwards. She wouldn't make eye contact yet. She was too stubborn for that. "Sometimes I do blame you for turning out like this." As far as she was concerned, he could stare her down all he wanted while she just stood there, leaning against the grand stone terrace, enjoying the warm breeze playing with her as it passed over the tower. She wouldn't back down. "Sometimes I blame him instead. And, sometimes, I do... feel like I really could fall in love with you at the end of all this. But I'm just not sure about that yet. What I supposed to do with this kind of love is if it doesn't comfort me...?"
Even with those profound words already out there in the open, Jareth hadn't chased her away thus far. Apparently a part of him was still selfish enough to simply hope for the best, that one day, she'll stay and he'll have her. All of her. But it's impossible now! It's never going to be that simple!
Her heart fluttered every time he continued to touch her, and her body reacted in a way she didn't always comprehend. It was anger, it was magic, it was self-loathing and uncertainty, it was frustration, it was electric and sensual, and it was goddamn puzzling.
She was not always happy to see him when he just... just popped! into her home or dorm room without warning, that's for sure. Other times, she was generally excited to speak with him, though even that was usually paired with a pang of annoyance, too. Plus, Jareth will never spent the night with her. It was her who had to accommodate him by staying in his bed, in the Underground if she wants their interactions to last longer.
(still phase II of the relationship; what actually comes later)
Sarah's still at war with herself.
She's trembling, ever so slightly. It's cold in the King's chambers this morning with the fires dying out. Her eyes are stinging with small hot tears. Goddammit. The Labyrinth is already so deeply rooted into the corners of her psyche, and no amount of additional therapy sessions with Doctor Morrison Aboveground could change that now.
Suddenly feeling anxious, she slides over on the mattress aiming for the far corner of Jareth's canopy bed, distancing herself from the warmth of Jareth's skin. Leaning her bare back against the cool silvery bedpost, she breathes out, quietly and rigid, and watches him lying there as he is.
Sarah hugs her knees to her chest then, and she runs a hand through the crown of her hair. Maybe she does truly love Jareth, after all. But honestly, it's difficult to admit it out loud. She should stop seeing coming back here. She should stop toying with dreamlands, timelines, and should stop fooling around with Jareth so much.
This experiences that they share may very well become the end of her, if not both of them.
Like, what if he'll disregard her one day, completely banning her from returning to the Castle Beyond? What if he eventually tires of her? He's Fae and immortal, and she's just another human girl caught in the blur of a billion others. What if she runs out of time, of life?
But hey, whatever. They don't own each other.
What if she'll never measure up to his expectations anyway? God knows that Jareth constantly struggles to measure up to hers.
(And, well... that's not exactly fair, now is it?)
She and Jareth have sex more often than planning these sort of ideas out.
Sarah doesn't want to talk about it, because yes, it's awkward and painful and she doesn't want to treat it like a make-up-or-break-up kind of thing. And naturally Jareth still caters to her every need and desire, so no, they don't about it. They don't talk about her naïve father or what do with Toby if she stays here permanently. Not about her days spent in therapy, not about the handful of other handsome strangers she'll willingly smile at and talk to on her college campus sometimes, not about her mother leaving her behind as a child, and not even about what they would do when she gets too old for his liking.
Sarah knows she does like playing chess with Jareth, and she likes him best dressed in leather, likes listening to him sing to her privately late at night, and likes the physical contact with him; although she also likes tease, mock, or taunt him. ("Ha, nice try. You have no power over me, remember?") Her saying something a little more critical or witty is somehow easier for her to do than fully surrendering to him, or, even openly apologizing to him for stringing him along...
Sarah bites in her lower lip, holding it between her pretty white teeth. It's a nervous habit of hers. She then understands how dangerous she really is; she has too much power now, and she might break him for good.
(It's inevitable.)
("When we love, we are doomed.")
Jareth's stirs. "Sarah?" He's pushing against the cushions and nonchalantly rolls over.
Sarah turns her head towards him. "Hey," she mutters back, forcing a smile but it turns into a cringe, and Jareth sees right through her.
"Sarah," he drones, reaching out, stoking his thumb down the curve of her cheek and neck. "You're cold. Come now, lay back down."
"Jareth, I— I can't— he's —" she doesn't finish. She just chokes it all down again and again and again, like always, making her throat burn with cries that aren't ever heard. "He's always there! When I sleep, when I close my eyes— and he's— saying that I was—"
(He's under my skin, he's in my head, and I can't get him out!)
"Peace, my love, peace. Here, lay down."
(phase III; the first big fight as a committed couple)
He enters the great hall, moving a rouge rooster aside with the toe of his boot and stops before her.
"You've been sitting there all day, Sarah," he begins, sternly, "daydreaming and mulling over things. I think it's about time you at least eat something. Get some rest? Come, I insist."
"No," she replies coolly, chin angling upward ever so delicately. Her green eyes are scorching him with contempt and pride once more. She refuses to get up from his throne. In fact, she nestles in further into it to demonstrate how nicely she fits there, as if she has won full custody of it. Her hands smoothly clench around the golden ridges. She sits there as though she's fucking Cleopatra Queen of the Nile, and he's merely a petty simpleton she must evaluate. "And you still have no power over me, Goblin King."
They both know this. He's accepted it by now evidently; she doesn't have to keep saying it. She does anyway, though, for Hell hath no fury like Sarah William's scorn.
Jareth sighs, glowering back up at her, his jaw hardening slightly. His gloved fists clench tighter at his sides. "And your eyes are still cruel, my one true love," he offers her in return, just as coolly, just as disdainfully.
They both know this as well. He doesn't have to point it out. Sarah is perfectly aware that she's temperamental and persistent, and sometimes she does have a real mean streak while Jareth can truly be the generous, attentive one, taking on the role of a romantic hero if it would please her.
(Then again... Sarah is regularly hard to please.)
(some things don't really change, they never do)
Sarah and Jareth still bicker.
They will play mind games.
They will argue until the tension in the air grows hot and thick, and they're literally shouting at each other. It's either over Toby, Sarah's refusal to discuss her sexual assault, Sarah still going to college, Jareth's secrets and his mysterious parents, or the peach. They will debate over her cruelty, or his jealously, his greed, or her indifference.
All of those listed have become somewhat sore subjects.
Jareth will constantly try to tear down the rest of Sarah defenses, chipping away at them.
(Because what else does he have to do with his immortality? He has the time, so why not?)
He is rather forceful at times, he'll admit. He pressures her to let him in, but there's love in his eyes too. He wants her to surrender her errors and flaws to him. To be imperfect. He wants her to have the choice to feel fragile in his presence, to confide in him, to rely on him... just if she needs to. However, Sarah's willpower is obviously just as strong as his. Her heart is one sturdy fortress, heavily guarded by her lingering questions and thorny suspicions of him. She's stubborn, spirited, and totally damaged on the inside. She doesn't know how or when to give in, even if it'd be for her own good. If she had to drag her broken, bloody, tired body up to the finish line, he suspects that she would surely try. That's his Sarah. The Sarah he knows best.
But she's not even his opponent anymore! She's his lover. He's the suiter she chose. And she's the one he was pining after since the beginning. He's the one who gets to be inside her during the night, sharing a bed with her, under the magical white light of the Crystal Moon. He's the one who treats her like a true-born Goblin Queen, and yet... Hoghead and that big yowling beast still receive more of Sarah's hidden laughs and tenderness than he ever does.
Also, Sarah disappears sometimes...
She'll slip from the sheets when he's sleeping. She'll sneak out on quiet, careful toes and crawl back through the vanity mirror back to her world. Back to her baby brother. Back to her tedious classes taught by tedious men in suits who call themselves wise professors. She'll run away from him disregarding a single note or prior warning.
(Perhaps it'll be two days, or it's a week; but the longest time she's stayed away for was one month in the Unground.)
She simply won't return to the Underground, which both entertains him and aggravates him equally without mercy or compassion. He does not always understand her strange humanistic impulses. He has no real explanation for it, and well, Sarah never really tries to give him one.
Then, when she does it again... when Jareth wakes up in his bed all alone, scoffing, and he dwells over why... it finally hits him. It feels like a major breakthrough. Why hadn't he seen it years ago? He's known as a master of trickery; he isn't the one who's deceived. He can definitely guess what it's all about now, because he's centuries old, and he's no fool. He built the entire Labyrinth from the ground up, had he not?
She's afraid, he gathers suddenly.
Sarah may not fear him personally, per se... except, she fears what he can do to her, what he can make her feel. He thinks, that deep down, Sarah is terrified of losing control of her freedom, her own sense of independence. She fears commitment. A classic story.
And if Jareth recalls correctly, there are some major factors that can support his theory:
First, her birth mother and father divorced when she was quite young— arguably too young— and their separation had put up personal roadblocks on Sarah's transition from childhood to womanhood. It shook the foundation of her original beliefs, reshaped her philosophies on true love and happy endings. The only defense mechanism Sarah had left was her own imagination. She got lost in fantasies instead of accepting her reality. She dreamed up better worlds and stories where things always worked out in her favor and she had a say in every situation.
Then, at fifteen, the wish was made, he came to her, and she almost lost Toby to him, which later resulted in Sarah in having certain trust issues with other men.
Afterwards, Sarah was raped, which she does not speak of on a steady basis. It happened in her own dorm, by a repulsive and pitiful bloke. That boy— from what Sarah has actually had told him thus far— was a popular athlete who had fancied her for a while, and apparently, he wasn't that accustomed to hear "No" from the other girls he want after before Sarah. And, well, more details aren't needed. To sum it all up, it didn't end well for Sarah one night. What was worse than that, no one at her school truly believed her. It was her word against his, and that poor excuse for a person had a wonderful reputation around campus, so of course he denied everything Sarah was complaining about to her teachers. That boy kept on insisting that Sarah was fully intoxicated and she had no solid evidence to prove it was him who'd violated her. Her entire floor was throwing a party the day before, and they both just happened to be there, nothing more. There were tons of girls there getting wasted and pulling giddy boys up to their rooms.
Therefore, yes, Jareth decides.
Sarah tends to have reasons to doubt her relationships. Yet, why is he on her list yet?
Sure, she's willing to visit him here and she's willing to kiss him like she means it, although, Sarah refuses worship him or obey him. Not all the time.
A part of Sarah's heart must still yearn for the common mortal lifestyle, because at least to her, being common means she'll have no noble titles or men holding her down.
But Jareth inwardly can't really help but to feel insulted (or rather, saddened) by her rebuttals over and over again.
Sarah would rather wear a tattered apron, serve other humans coffee, and do weeks' worth of laundry in that small shitty college dormitory of hers verses staying safe and cherished inside his Castle? He's constantly willing to give her everything she wants here. Gowns, parties, feasts, land, magical evenings... an entire kingdom just for them! He's said that once before, and the offer still stands, even if a screaming baby is out of the equation now.
He cannot deny Sarah those things.
And every now and then, he might use a crystal to spy on her, merely to see where she is and make sure she's safe. Then, somehow, Sarah can often sense exactly what he's doing. Through the crystal held in his palm, he'll watch her spin around, look up into the trees and glance over her shoulder, searching for him. She can feel his eyes on her back. Call it magic, call it love, or call it the magic of love— either way, their bond has undeniably grown stronger— it passes through time and different worlds, flowing between the stars.
Currently, he sees that she is spending her free time with Toby. He watches them play dress-up and pretend to be pirates hunting for buried treasure throughout the back gardens. Because Toby wants to. With a gentle smile, Sarah obliges and chases her brother up and down the grass hedges, into the halls of their parents' redecorated Victorian home, while reciting lines from various fairytales.
When Jareth leaves them be and returns to check in on the siblings three hours later, night has fallen, and Sarah seems to be cooking Toby supper while he sits in front of the screen, watching his favorite Camelot film. After, Sarah is urging Toby to bed, tucking in the blankets around him. She kisses his forehead as he immediately dozes off. In the morning, the parents come home. They all sit together at the old kitchen table and eat breakfast together.
Two more days of the same routine goes on until, eventually, Sarah returns to the Underground. To him.
She's just there, already relaxing in his bed and obviously waiting for him, to surprise him.
Tonight, he takes in the sight of her pretty green eyes, of her subtle elegance, of her wearing black lace.
"Are you here for long, precious?" he asks this as if he's a record-keeper at an inn and he needs to know how much gold to charge her per night.
"I just... I just had a bad day today, alright?" she pleads softly. "Karen is becoming more intrusive than ever before. She thinks the only way to help me at this point is forcing me outta the house, Jareth. She wants me to join this retreat in another state where female rape victims are submitted to do therapy projects together every day or something, where it's even easier for people on the outside to falsely pity us when really all we want is support and normalcy. It's not right." She reaches for his hand, drawing him in closer. "C'mon, don't be mad. I'm back now, so let's just enjoy it while we can. Okay?"
(I don't want to fight right now. Please, I just want to let it go and move past it.)
He brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear effortlessly with all the practice he's had. "And you coming here, dressed like this... in order to seduce me was the better solution for you? After all this time, what exactly makes you think I can give you what you want, Sarah?"
"You're the only one who still tries. You know me, Jareth, my Goblin King. You know how my thoughts work better than any physician could..."
Supposedly, it could be far worse than this, he muses silently as Sarah quickly initiates the opening kiss.
(The original draft of Little Riding Hood is laden with sexual innuendoes and metaphors for lust, and how the hunger for flesh drives the beast in every man to devour every pretty little girl in sight.)
The point is... fairytales aren't for children, not really.
(The earliest version of Snow White was not so different. The princess was on the run from the Wicked Queen who loathed her and envied her. And she did stay at the dwarven cottage hidden deep within the woods. But not without a price. Only a few alive today know the truth. Snow White was allowed to lodge with the seven creature brothers if she was willing to do them favors in return. She was forced to cook for them, clean for them and then at night, she had to be their private whore as payment. She sold her body to each dwarf per each night of the week in exchange for shelter and protection.)
The true mature content of these literary classics is something only adults can fully comprehend. And Jareth reminds Sarah of this in every way he can, while he can.
For she is all woman to him. She always has been. The Labyrinth wouldn't have pushed her so hard if she had been any younger.
(The real Little Mermaid princess dies at the end of her story. Once she's gifted with permanent mortality, the very prince she fell in love with commits adultery a short time after they get married. In remorse and resentment towards the other woman who ruined her adoring relationship, the Mermaid Princess loses her sanity, eventually throwing herself down on the ocean's jagged rocks just to become one with the water again, to be free of her human pain. Her body and blood are claimed by the rolling waves, which dissolve her corpse into seafoam.)
Sarah lets herself be his, like this, under the sheets. Though she won't be his forever, will she? Perhaps, there is no such thing as a happy ending for them either?
(Sleeping Beauty was so lovely and so beautiful in her magical slumber that her valiant prince couldn't even help himself. He made passionate love to her right then and there before kissing her rose-red lips to rouse her. She woke days later only to find she was already pregnant with his royal child and heir.)
Nay, a fairytale like theirs isn't for the tender-hearted.
Sarah wanted a real fantasy, one that would put her innocence to the test, and she got one.
(Cinderella made good friends with the wild doves and sparrows who nested around her family manor. And so, once that Prince Charming finally found her, she had her winged friends peck out the eyes of her two ugly stepsisters in revenge for treating her so poorly.)
There was no sweet and kind prince.
Sarah got him. She got the Labyrinth.
It wasn't exactly a perfect story, but of course, none of them are.
Epilogue.
(and they live... somewhat happily ever after)
Sarah doesn't run home ever again.
Instead, she's officially and readily crowned Goblin Queen.
With the marriage, the Labyrinth shapeshifts, restructuring itself to suit its new mistress equally well as its King.
She further envelopes herself in Jareth's love, his gifts, his power.
And, years later, when she is at the height of own self-taught magic, Sarah whisks away to the Aboveground for her final revenge. Sarah steals the firstborn son of the man who took advantage of her during college and leaves in a shimmering cloud of dust in her wake. Leaves the nameless mother crying on the floor. Leaves her past-rapist staring in sheer horror and regret. And she leaves a cackling changeling behind in the baby's crib. Finally, she then turns their infant into another goblin to join their royal ranks.
Weeks later, Sarah stands in front of her old enchanted mirror for what feels like hours, studying her reflection. Her eyes can be cruel indeed, and all she likes to wear these days is blacks, greys, and deep purples. The colors of obscurity and secrets and control.
She immediately tries to soften her expression to one that shows grace and goodness, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. Then, she pulls it forward again, seeing which way seems less imitating. Maybe she should ask Jareth what he thinks of her looks?
Does he approve of her now? Has she changed too much since she left the mortal realm? Does he prefer a fragile wife, shining pure and bright like the starlight? Does he still yearn for a watery soul, a maiden who is flexible, fluid, and can bend in every direction just to please him? Like any other Fae princess would be for him? But Sarah isn't that. She's a Sattigerious woman. Full of fire, speaking with brutally honesty, who gets bored easily so she must be kept busy and entertained at all times, and she hates being told what to do. This is why the position of Goblin Queen is the only position she will accept. Anything less than would've been out of the question.
And that's also why she's starting to get a little worried. Jareth, normally, is crystal clear about what he wants from others. He reveals his best hand, lays out the rules and choices plainly for all to hear and doesn't joke around. He knows how to get his way.
Though lately, she's noticed how quiet he's been. As husband and wife, he has stopped telling her what he expects of her.
Does he still love her?
That night, she offers him her hand, beckoning him. Their widened bedchamber is calm, serene, and the goblins are all drunk and sleeping by now.
He comes to her freely, a look of devotion in his strange yet familiar Fae gaze.
They do not speak.
He conjures a new crystal in his hand, allows it to roll up and balance effortlessly on his gloved fingertips. It glows white, then red, morphing into a beautiful single red rose. Sarah smirks slightly, batting her lashes, taking the token from him in gratitude. This time, words aren't needed.
She has her answer.
He is still her King.