"It doesn't matter what you do because it's going to happen anyway."
Leonard Cohen
"He must be exhausted living up to her expectations."
Sarah pretended she couldn't hear him.
"No wonder you enjoy this movie. I can see how her selfish demands must resonate."
Sarah instead pretended he didn't exist.
Of course, he was making it rather difficult.
To begin with he'd insisted on sitting right next to her despite the size of the sofa in the family room being more than ample to permit personal space.
They'd settled on The Princess Bride after failing to see eye to eye on the Christmas specials. They'd started to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas but it soon became apparent that the not-Goblin King identified a little too closely with the titular character.
"What they need is a firm hand. The Grinch should have been ruling those insufferable little Whovians. That would have sorted everything. Like Goblins, simple minded creatures need directions. Rules. Restrictions. Boggings."
Sarah snorted. "You're entirely missing the point."
Jareth released a manufactured sigh. "It's clear the poor creature just wanted some peace and quiet and was unfairly cast into the role of villain. He asked for so little."
Sarah took the remote and flicked it off. "Next."
They made a solid effort to enjoy Home Alone but Jareth couldn't resist pointing out that Kevin's life was much better after he'd wished away his family.
Sarah tried to explain that wasn't what had happened at all, but the not-king would not be convinced. Once the shenanigans started properly, the king was completely fascinated by what he termed, "the brilliant, murderous, little psychopath." And not in a good way.
Sarah swore off Christmas movies altogether and decided to introduce Jareth to another sort of classic. It was like letting him in on a little secret. Something she and Toby shared in particular.
"Hmm. Drowned. Such a pity she didn't know what she'd lost it until it was too late."
Sarah waved a hand at him. "Shhh. Just watch."
And he did. He laughed at the right spots. Even his pointed teasing was not entirely unwelcome. It was, Sarah thought in discomfit, quite natural to curl up and watch a movie with the Goblin King. Yet another something she'd never imagine would come to pass.
Jareth nodded his approval. "Ah, Iocane powder. Brilliant. Always wise to just kill your enemies outright."
Sarah sipped her tea. "Then I feel rather fortunate to be alive."
"Luckily for you, I never really considered you an enemy."
An indelicate puff of derision. "The cleaners would beg to differ."
"And yet here we are," Jareth smiled. That sort of disarming smile that would have her believe there was nowhere else she would rather be. "Believe me when I say my Labyrinth can be a touch more toothsome than you experienced."
Sarah pulled a face. "Do you expect me to believe you made it easy for me?"
"I expect you to believe that it could have been far worse."
When Buttercup slapped Wesley and he slapped her back, Jareth's smile widened in a way Sarah wasn't sure she liked. "I'm convinced he rather enjoyed that."
"Oh probably. Still, he was quite devoted to her."
"Yes, at least one of them was."
"She thought he was dead!"
Jareth shook his head. "That's no excuse. But I am thankful he went out into the world and made a name for himself."
"What, as the dread pirate Roberts?"
The not-Goblin King chuckled. "Do you deny you found him more attractive when he shed the subservient farm boy aesthetic for the man in black finesse?"
Sarah sputtered, "He was still the same person really."
Jareth quirked a brow. "Was he though? He exchanged a pitcher for a sword. Obscurity for power."
"Are you being serious? Anyway, shouldn't you identify with Humperdink? He's the villain after all."
"Villains are only villains by perspective. I doubt he thought of himself as a villain."
Sarah gestured at the television. "Are we watching the same thing?" Wesley was screaming in pain in the machine.
"Semantics." His mouth dipped. "I'll give you that he is a bit of an unlikeable ass and Wesley's much better looking."
Sarah couldn't stop a small smile.
At some point Toby wandered in, standing in the doorway for a moment, before wordlessly joining them. He sprawled into their father's well-loved lazy boy – relegated to the intimate obscurity of the family room when Karen had moved in. He tossed a few kernels of popcorn at his sister but then quieted to watch the movie.
It afforded Jareth the opportunity to see the siblings interact. Throughout the movie they echoed or even anticipated lines to each other.
"Get back, witch!"
"I'm not a witch, I'm your wife!"
Jareth's was amused. "I begin to understand the way you both speak a little more now."
"You must have seen it before," Toby replied in surprise.
Jareth shook his head. "But it has been very illuminating."
"How have you not seen it? Everyone has."
"They don't have it in-"
"Australia," Sarah finished quickly.
"Okay," Toby looked unconvinced, "but it's one of Sarah's favourite movies. She must have made you watch it before."
Jareth wrapped his arm around Sarah's shoulders. "We haven't had a lot of time for watching movies." He received a sharp elbow jab to the ribs in response.
Toby's face was slow to screw up in understanding. When it did he tossed a cushion at them. "Gross."
"He's joking!" Another jab.
"Ah, I see they are storming the castle now." Jareth's tone conveyed mock surprise. "Another mark in its favour, no doubt. You've never been much for sovereignty."
The next morning Sarah woke again to the feeling of cozy warmth. To the vague memory of having finished the movie, fallen asleep and then twining round something solid. Limbs entangled and fingers curling over the swell of her hip. Something that just felt right.
The bed was empty however. For a moment she simply stretched and sprawled, enjoying that ephemeral of feeling of nothing mattering. The freedom of holidays and winter, when staying in bed seemed less lazy and more an expected indulgence.
No half naked Goblin Kings appeared. She wasn't sure if was disappointed or not. She was worried however. If he wasn't in the shower and not in her bed – Sarah's thoughts hiccoughed briefly – he was somewhere. Somewhere not here. Which meant it was somewhere else. Perhaps with someone elses. Like her family. Worry turned to panic. She threw off the covers and dashed downstairs, not bothering to brush her teeth or hair first.
When she barrelled through the bi-swing door into the kitchen, Jareth, dressed impeccably, was seated at the kitchen table.
Sarah exhaled.
Karen was seated beside him, the old vinyl covered family photo albums spread out.
She sucked that breath right back in again.
"Sarah! Good morning. Oh don't you look cute. I told your father you'd like those penguin pyjamas."
"So cute," Toby whistled sarcastically, his brows waggling as he inhaled a slice of French toast.
She caught a look at herself in the reflection of the microwave. Not her best look.
"I was just showing Jareth some old photos."
"Thank you so much for that," she echoed Toby's tone. There was not enough coffee in the world.
"Yes, I particularly like the one of you with the – what was it called? – crimped hair."
Sarah scowled at him over the rim of her mug. "I don't think you can cast any stones there."
Karen and Toby both turned to look as Jareth's perfectly coifed style.
"It's a new look for him. You should have seen him when I met him."
The not-King turned a page in the album, his mouth quirking. "They still can."
"Oh, this is a cute one. Before I met her of course, but Robert calls this her nude phase. Refused to wear anything other than sunglasses."
"Pity that one ended." Jareth and Karen exchanged a laugh. "I assume that woman is Sarah's mother."
"Yes," Karen replied carefully, her eyes flickering back to Sarah. "She… ah, unfortunately passed away. She was a brilliant actress in her time though. And you can clearly see where Sarah got her looks."
The words were kind. The one thing Sarah could never accuse Karen of was saying anything against her mother, even if warranted. Sarah felt the back of her throat thicken and close as she tried to stave off the feelings of loss. Of a relationship that had never quite solidified.
"It's a pity Sarah never got to see her perform. That had always been the plan but then… the accident." Karen trailed off awkwardly. She knew how much her step daughter had dearly wanted to, how Robert had been planning to send her to London – by herself – for a visit. Hoping to salve old wounds. As it turned out, it would be too late.
Sarah turned to refill her cup, her face tactfully averted. Even Toby seemed cowed.
"Oh look, there she is wiggling her little bare bum at the camera."
"Hard to miss." Another page turned. "Now this one is interesting."
Sarah turned at the change in his voice and approached the table. The picture was of her, about 15, in her medieval costume; her hair pinned up with flowers. She was clutching a red book and looking away. Practicing, no doubt, as she'd done all summer.
"She was a fierce force even then," Karen said generously. "So much will and determination."
"Indeed."
"It certainly made her into the successful woman she is today." Sarah smiled at her stepmother's compliment. At the whitewashing of her difficult if understandable behaviour.
Of course the whole effect would have been better had she not been standing in oversized penguin pyjamas with bed head and morning breath now masked by coffee.
Robert and Lizzie joined them shortly afterwards. It was December 23rd. The day of the Christmas concert. The decision was made to head to the mall for some last minute shopping beforehand. Namely Robert's as Karen had finished weeks ago. Lizzie also professed a desire to see "the sinful excesses of American greed in the flesh."
It was decided that Toby would ride with Jareth and Sarah, and Lizzie with Robert and Karen. Karen very much looked like she wanted to protest that arrangement.
It took thirty minutes to find a parking spot and once they found one another again in the entrance, it was another fifteen. They split up, agreeing to meet again at the in mall restaurant for lunch. Lizzie clutched her purse fitfully like she imagined every passerby was a potential thief. Toby disappeared to the electronics store almost immediately.
Jareth studied the map of the mall.
"How fiendish."
"Hmm?"
"This," he indicated the schematics. "Look at this all madness. Every turn leads you to yet another store. Here," he pointed, "they appear to want to feed you so you don't leave. Which would be difficult anyway as the exits appear to be virtually hidden."
"You sound impressed."
"I am," he agreed. "It's given me some ideas, in fact."
Sarah dragged him away. They wandered mostly aimlessly for a while. Sarah was both amused and annoyed by all the female attention he seemed to attract. On one circuit they passed Lizzie using one of the massage chairs. Her blissful expression suggested she didn't seem so entirely bothered by American excess.
They also passed her father considering a waffle iron. Sarah jogged up to him as he was pulling out his wallet and physically propelled him towards the jewellery store.
When she turned back around Jareth was gone.
"Oh shit." She wasn't worried per se, but a Goblin King loose in a crowded mall two days before Christmas seemed like a bad idea sounded rife with bad ideas.
She'd only just begun to panic when she heard distinctive male laughter.
She stopped dead when she finally spotted him in the crowd.
The mall Santa was on break. Jareth was seated in the vacated throne, looking every bit the monarch, despite his "normal" dress. Worse, he had an actual live giggling child on his knee. There were more children surrounding him. As though they'd been drawn in like some Pied Piper foolery. A woman looked like she was waiting to hand over her baby.
To the Goblin King. Willingly.
Sarah pushed through the throngs of people until she was at his side.
"What are you doing," she hissed.
"Listening to what they want for Christmas. They seem very intent on telling me." The child on his knee, in fact, had not stopped his list of demands.
"You're NOT Santa."
"Neither is the man in the beard off to having 'a smoke'," Jareth replied dryly.
Sarah worried her lip. On the one hand it was utterly ridiculous. On the other, the children seemed entirely captivated by him. Their parents seemed completely unconcerned by the fact their kids were being entertained by a stranger.
A little girl, shy at first, asked for a few things before querying what he hoped for Christmas.
The not-king looked taken aback for a moment. Then he smiled conspiratorially. "Sometimes instead of waiting you have to try and make things happen on your own.
"Are you going to get it?"
Jareth chuckled. "I'm certainly working on it."
"If you're good you'll probably get it."
"Perish the thought," he winked.
"Well good luck," she said matter of factly.
The next little boy's demands were lengthy. He was on the point of finally getting down when he paused. "Oh, and I also like you to take my baby sister away and give me a puppy instead."
Jareth grinned.
"And that's enough!" Sarah plucked the squirming child off his lap and handed him back to a now frowning mother. "Santa's… er helper, here, has to go!" She strong armed the king out of the chair.
If looks could kill Sarah would have been dead.
"I don't think you're overly popular with children, precious."
"No more shenanigans. I mean it."
Jareth shot her a coy look. "Anybody want a peanut?"
When they passed Lizzie again, she was snoring in the massage chair. The salesman looked at a loss.
Sarah stopped to pick up a few more small trinkets for her family, but otherwise was loathe to go into any of the stores.
Lunch was fairly unremarkable, aside from one instant where a child walked by, saw Sarah, and burst into angry tears. Jareth seemed to find that particularly amusing.
By the time they got out of the mall and then the parking lot, made it home and wrapped their finds, it was almost time to start getting ready for Toby's school concert.
Karen had suggested a late dinner afterwards, and had instead put out appetizers so anyone wanting to snack beforehand could. Lizzie had launched into another lecture on the gluttony of colonials as she stacked her plate with cold cuts and ripened cheeses.
Toby came down the stairs in a pressed white shirt, black pants and a bowtie. His hair had been carefully slicked down by Karen. He looked, in a word, miserable.
Sarah shared a sympathetic look.
As they were bustling back out the door, Jareth pulled him aside. Wordlessly, he slipped the bowtie off his head, opened the first few buttons of his shirt and artfully mussed the teen's hair. When Toby caught sight of himself in the hall mirror his expression brightened.
"Confidence," the not-King chided.
The school was almost as bad as the mall. Parents clutched cameras and unwilling younger siblings with a look of frantic desperation. The school, usually cold due to the old boiler, was instead stifling hot. Staff members looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. The students, ranging from awkward to almost adult, looked a mixture of enthused and bored. Paper programs already littered the floor. The school council was selling cookies and something that looked suspiciously like McDonald's orange drink. Sarah saw one parent surreptitiously take a flask from his pocket and add it to the paper cup. Smart man.
Lizzie decried the fact that it was a "public" school. She shot a disapproving look at Karen and then a similar one at her nephew.
The lights flickered in the halls to tell parents to find their seats in the auditorium. The grumblings of adults too big to fit into the theatre style folding chairs followed.
The band, a mixture of the truly talented and those looking for another credit, was tuning up. Lizzie winced and Sarah noticed her turn off her hear aids.
Underlying all the chaos, however, remained the bright thread of excitement that always precedes Christmas where children are involved. Woven with it was the pride of parents for whom seeing their children succeed or fail was less important than just seeing them shine however briefly. Though Sarah was not a parent and had no intention of becoming one anytime soon despite her parents' prodding, she too felt a swell of pride in anticipation of seeing Toby shine. Toby who was not a little boy anymore. Who would be taller than her by next Christmas. Toby who each year would be less and less interested in his sister who was more than a decade older than him. She felt her heart seize almost painfully.
Jareth wordlessly took her hand. Her heart flipped in another way altogether.
The narrator, a girl of about 12 in glasses, cleared her throat at the mic. She introduced the show to a smattering of applause. The sound of video cameras powered up all around them.
The first act was a choral number, with three Christmas carols sung joyously if not adeptly. The next was a short moralizing story about the true meaning of Christmas – selflessness and generosity. Jareth seemed to find it particularly droll.
When the curtains swung closed and opened again a short time later, Toby was alone on the stage. He was perched on a stool, his usually gangly legs stretched casually before him. She heard Karen wonder where his tie had gotten to. Robert readied the cam. Toby's mahogany classical guitar was cradled gently in his arms. His artfully dishevelled hair shone in the stage lights.
Sarah saw his neck bob nervously and then he seemed to ready himself, whispering a word to himself that the mic failed to pick up.
The first notes were a touch unsteady, the warble of the strings, though not unpleasant, were unsure. And then his fingers remembered what they innately knew and the next few notes rang with brilliant assuredness. His first piece was Carol of the Bells. Even without accompaniment it held all the power and resonance the song possessed. The crowd, usually a bit distracted, had fallen into rapt silence. The applause at the close was genuine.
Karen was openly crying. Not some soppy sobbing but those bittersweet silent tears of maternal joy. Lizzie was beaming, having obviously turned her aural device back on. Her father met her eyes and they exchanged a knowing smile. He hadn't turned the camera off, wanting to catch the accolades as well.
"I'd heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?"
Toby's next song was Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah, Sarah realized with surprise. Either the concert director was refreshingly liberal or didn't fully know the words of the song.
From her vantage, Sarah could see a girl, perhaps the same age or a year to two older than Toby, standing just behind the curtain on the stage. She was watching Toby with a rapt expression on her face. Toby, still expertly plucking the strings, canted his head slightly more than once – as though confirming he knew she was there. Sarah's eyes flicked back and forth between them.
She felt her own face grow wet. His voice, in that precious place between manhood and youth, captured the longing of the song. When Toby got to the lines,
"But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah"
Sarah saw Lizzie's brow furrow.
When the song ended there was a moment of awkward silence. As though people were remembering how to breathe. And then the auditorium heard more applause than it had in its forty years of Christmas concerts.
Toby's face instantly reddened, returning him from stardom to boyhood, and he ran a hand through his hair nervously as he bowed. His eyes crept back to stage right.
The not-Goblin King was clapping beside her. His face held a similar sort of pride. As though Toby's success had also mattered to the mercurial being.
During intermission the entire family hugged a still red-faced Toby. He received lots of other friendly pats on the back as well. Toby's music teacher came over to offer compliments to the family. Toby beamed. It was his moment.
Sarah saw Lizzie stuff a few religious pamphlets into the information display. Jareth accepted a paper cup from Karen, took a sip, and then grimaced, his face screwing up in confusion at the contents. His cup disappeared a moment later.
Toby's eyes kept scanning the crowd. Sarah took the opportunity to start self-deprecating story about one of her Christmas concerts gone awry and subtly motioned for Toby to disappear.
When the show resumed there was a general sense of contentment and joy in the Williams' family. It turned to quiet confusion when no one could spot Toby in the group number.
Sarah frowned.
Jareth's face, which had been blank, perhaps even bored, tightened for a moment. His jaw ticked. He glanced at Sarah and whispered a brief 'excuse me' before withdrawing. Sarah watched him go, her frown lingering.
It didn't take long for Jareth to find the missing boy in a poorly lit part of the school.
Toby was hunched against a set of lockers. His hair was even more dishevelled. His shirt, instead of being artfully open, was now missing buttons. A few droplets of blood splattered in stark contrast to the white.
A group of three older boys surrounded him. Two seemed content to merely taunt him. The third, a taller thick set boy with dark hair, delivered another fist to Toby's middle. He was wearing a varsity jacket.
"How does that feel, you little faggot."
His friends laughed. "Make him sing soprano, Shawn."
The boy named Shawn gripped Toby's hair. "I told you to stay away from my sister. Let's see how many girls you get without balls."
Toby struggled valiantly. "Hold his arms, guys."
Jareth stepped out of the shadows. "What do we have here," he asked in a dangerously low voice.
AN: What's that? Jocks picking on the artistic kid trope? Check. (I wouldn't want to be them right now)
It goes without saying that faggot is a terrible slur. But it's keeping with the 90s in high school.
Hope you all had a fantastic New Years!
We celebrate Hogmanay (Scottish New Year's). There's a big celebration (the biggest in the world outside of Scotland) downtown with live music, haggis, and dancing. It's fantastic because they countdown the New Year at 7pm (midnight Scotland time) so parents of kids (like us) can get them home to bed. The party continues for those without kids. My husband gets to rock his kilt, as does my son. Plus it's probably the only place in the world where you can get haggis poutine. Best of both worlds. It's delicious.
So obviously I had hoped to finish this story before 2019 but I aim to get this finished as soon as possible. I need to turn my attention back to my other WIP, but this has proved too fun to stop. Sorry, TW fans.
It also goes without saying (but I'll say it) thanks for all of the love! Here's to a wonderful 2019.
