A/N: This is just a small story I wrote today.. thought I'd share.
um.. standard disclaimer.
"Shhhh.." gentle shushing could be heard amongst the baby's screams. "Please be quiet child." Sarah rocked with a baby, her child, back and forth on their bedroom floor. Bangs and shouts from below, those belonging to their lower neighbour, could be heard. The child only wailed on.
"Please Frey.. shhh..." Sarah continued to rock the child in desperation as tears formed in her eyes. She glanced at the clock, only ten, and already exhausted. Their apartment, a one bedroom rat-hole, was all Sarah could manage to afford with her child who was barely a few months old. A mere infant, a product of what Sarah thought was love, but only proved to be an act of lust.
Their bed, a mattress with sheets and blankets, lied in the corner. That appeared to be the only furnishings in this gray room. The child paused, only to take a deep breath and continue.
"Oh Freya.." Sarah whined as she shifted the child to another arm. As soon as she had mentioned that she could possibly be pregnant to Blaine, he left. Nothing could have prepared her, lost, alone, in a large city. Sarah had Freya, her hope lost a long time ago.
There had to be a better way for her child, there had to be something more than this dismal life she was providing for her daughter. Tears now threatened to fall, but she bitterly blinked them away.
Wiping locks, their luster long since gone, away from her face, she looked softly at her child. She kissed the crying baby's forehead and turned her eyes up. Determined, she spoke the words so long forgotten, to unlock a part of her that was lost. "I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now!"
The child let out another scream before a soft wind passed through the windowless room. Sarah found herself looking up into the mismatched eyes of the Goblin King, as powerful and arrogant as ever.
Freya had stopped crying and was merely whimpering while she stared with intelligent eyes upon this stranger.
Jareth, which was this man's name, pursed his lips. Sarah lowered her head, ashamed of everything, ashamed of herself. Soon, a gloved hand caught her chin and forced her eyes up to his own. They stared at each other, both searching for something. Then Jareth stood, looking as menacing as the Goblin King.
"Is she yours?"
Sarah nodded and struggled to her feet. He held out a hand and she accepted, allowing him to help her stand. Eyes that were once so bright, once so vibrant, began to sparkle with tears again.
"Sarah.." but Sarah spoke before he could continue.
"Her name is Freya, it was my grandmother's."
Jareth nodded and held out his arms to accept the child she was offering. She was defeated, broken. A small wave of sadness washed over him, that the only one who bested his Labyrinth, the only one who was fit to be called his opponent, was now gone.
"I can offer her nothing." she mumbled against the single tear that had fallen.
The child, tired from crying, began to drift off, seemingly comfortable in this stranger's arms.
"You're certain?" he asked.
Sarah closed her eyes and nodded. She felt a warm hand come to rest softly on her cheek, but when her eyes opened, he was gone, they were gone.
She stifled a sob and found her way through the dark apartment into the bathroom. There, Sarah laid on the dingy rug, an empty orange bottle fallen beside her.
"Shhhh.." gentle shushing could be heard amongst the baby's screams. "Please be quiet child." Sarah rocked with a baby, her child, back and forth on their bedroom floor. Bangs and shouts from below, those belonging to their lower neighbour, could be heard. The child only wailed on.
"Please Frey.. shhh..." Sarah continued to rock the child in desperation as tears formed in her eyes. She glanced at the clock, only ten, and already exhausted. Their apartment, a one bedroom rat-hole, was all Sarah could manage to afford with her child who was barely a few months old. A mere infant, a product of what Sarah thought was love, but only proved to be an act of lust.
Their bed, a mattress with sheets and blankets, lied in the corner. That appeared to be the only furnishings in this gray room. The child paused, only to take a deep breath and continue.
"Oh Freya.." Sarah whined as she shifted the child to another arm. As soon as she had mentioned that she could possibly be pregnant to Blaine, he left. Nothing could have prepared her, lost, alone, in a large city. Sarah had Freya, her hope lost a long time ago.
There had to be a better way for her child, there had to be something more than this dismal life she was providing for her daughter. Tears now threatened to fall, but she bitterly blinked them away.
Wiping locks, their luster long since gone, away from her face, she looked softly at her child. She kissed the crying baby's forehead and turned her eyes up. Determined, she spoke the words so long forgotten, to unlock a part of her that was lost. "I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now!"
The child let out another scream before a soft wind passed through the windowless room. Sarah found herself looking up into the mismatched eyes of the Goblin King, as powerful and arrogant as ever.
Freya had stopped crying and was merely whimpering while she stared with intelligent eyes upon this stranger.
Jareth, which was this man's name, pursed his lips. Sarah lowered her head, ashamed of everything, ashamed of herself. Soon, a gloved hand caught her chin and forced her eyes up to his own. They stared at each other, both searching for something. Then Jareth stood, looking as menacing as the Goblin King.
"Is she yours?"
Sarah nodded and struggled to her feet. He held out a hand and she accepted, allowing him to help her stand. Eyes that were once so bright, once so vibrant, began to sparkle with tears again.
"Sarah.." but Sarah spoke before he could continue.
"Her name is Freya, it was my grandmother's."
Jareth nodded and held out his arms to accept the child she was offering. She was defeated, broken. A small wave of sadness washed over him, that the only one who bested his Labyrinth, the only one who was fit to be called his opponent, was now gone.
"I can offer her nothing." she mumbled against the single tear that had fallen.
The child, tired from crying, began to drift off, seemingly comfortable in this stranger's arms.
"You're certain?" he asked.
Sarah closed her eyes and nodded. She felt a warm hand come to rest softly on her cheek, but when her eyes opened, he was gone, they were gone.
She stifled a sob and found her way through the dark apartment into the bathroom. There, Sarah laid on the dingy rug, an empty orange bottle fallen beside her.