Thank you, everyone! Sorry this took longer.
For those that don't know what French Madelines are:
how-to-make-classic-lemon-madeleines-cooking-lessons-from-the-kitchn-187109
Sarah was a morning person—but, she was also human. Like any normal person, her first instinct in the morning was not to smile.
But, today was the last day of school, and she had slept through the night.
Sarah was the last girl in school to care what any other person thought. Naturally, a girl as imaginative as Sarah was bullied in middle school; she wore flowers in her hair, she talked about fairies, she doodled mermaids, and she loved unicorn stickers—and she never cared what anyone thought of that. She noticed their harsh words as elephant shaped clouds in the sky or a lady bug on a daisy; fleeting and inconsequential. However, the last day of school was the last impression a student could make on peers and superiors—at least, the last impression for three months. Sarah wanted hers to be a good one.
Sarah chose a pastel pink blouse in her favorite peasant-style. This one stood apart from her wardrobe because it had a lower neckline, which she made sure to hike up as she left the house—lest her parents see—and shoulder cutouts from the voluminous, flowing sleeves. It was longer in the back than in the front. The material over her stomach had a triangular cutout that reached a point just under her navel; this showed just enough midriff to be seen but not enough to be sent to the principal's office.
Her jeans were not high-waisted; had they been, they would have interfered with the style of her blouse. They were a royal blue so bright they were almost electric. She chose to wear her white sneakers that gave her an extra inch or two of height. Boosting her height always boosted her confidence. She was not short, but she certainly wasn't tall—not that height mattered. Still, Sarah submitted to whatever primal psychological impulse drove humans to associate height with supermodels and masculinity.
At school, she passed Brad after the last bell. He gave her a wink and said, "Looking good, Sarah. See you when I see you!"
"See you!" Sarah said with a big grin, giving a little wave.
When Sarah got to her locker, she noticed that there were little plastic pouches taped to everyone's locker door. In the pouches were two French Madeline biscuit cookies and a card stock note that said, "Congrats on another great year!" with the black silhouette of an eagle stamped under the text, their school mascot. Under the stamp was fine print: "please remember it is against policy to eat in the hallways."
Sarah saw several students breaking this rule already, but she threw the treats in her pack.
"Sweet of the school, right?" said Delilah with a mouthful of cookie, shoving the last remaining book from her locker into her overstuffed backpack. "Mmm. Lemon."
"Ya, it totally makes up for all the pointless homework and the fact the bathrooms look like a 1960's advertisement for poverty awareness," Sarah replied sarcastically but in good humor.
Delilah snorted a laugh. "Ya, totally. Anyway, happy summer Sarah. See you around!"
Sarah let out a hearty "oomph" as she thrust her backpack onto her bed. Her shoulders hurt from schlepping the lumpy thing all the way from school to the bus to her house. Sarah mentally kicked herself for waiting until the last day of school to clean out her locker.
She began to unpack her pack, afraid that leaving it bursting at the seams for another moment might actually burst its seams. She pulled out four miscellaneous novels, a textbook she had never returned ("oops,"), a hairbrush, a reusable water bottle ("So that's where that was..."), various hair accessories, a sweater, some feminine products, and all of her magnets. She opened her front zipper pocket and awkwardly grabbed all the pens, pencils, markers, and erasers she had been hoarding, trying to transport them all to her desk in one handful. She removed the final contents from the pocket: a pamphlet for teenage pregnancy prevention, a mini beanie baby butterfly, and the French Madelines.
Sarah set out to putting everything in its place, tossing the pamphlet into the garbage and the biscuits onto her desk.
A knock came at her door; it was her father, home early from work.
"Sarah? Are you there?"
"Come in, dad," she replied, not looking up from sorting her hair clips, ties, and pins.
"Sarah, you're still here?" he asked. "You're going to be late for modern. I came to see if you'd like a ride. I'm heading down that way for a meeting and will be coming back right around when your class ends."
Sarah looked up and smiled. "That'd actually be great, dad. Let me grab my things."
Ever since the Labyrinth (well, ever since the Labyrinth the first time around), Sarah appreciated alone time with her father more than she ever had. Somewhere deep in her subconscious, she had resented him for her mother's choice to leave. Sarah was older now, and the protective emotional barriers a child's mind erects against the unfair hand life deals no longer controlled her. Now that Sarah wanted to follow in her mother's footsteps, she understood why her mother made the choice to leave; she did not agree, but she understood. The car rides with her father that used to embarrass were now comforting patches of time in the day's quilt of hours.
Sarah thought about taking the French Madelines as a snack, but she figured she would be back home in time for a late dinner. They would be dessert.
Sarah sat cross legged in her bed that night as she memorized a monologue from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. She had a mug of hot cocoa balancing on her right knee and the pouch of French Madelines now opened on her nightstand. She reached out her left hand to grab the biscuits, feeling blindly while keeping her eyes fixed on the pages of the play. Her hand wrapped around one of the treats, spongy and slightly sticky in her palm. She shoved it halfway in her mouth, biting it in half and chewing, not thinking, as she was engrossed in her play.
Poor, tricked Hermia.
Sarah was gagging. She has swallowed before she could spit the thing out; she hated peach-flavored things.
Didn't Delilah say they were lemon flavored? Sarah's Head began to feel fuzzy.
"Everything's dancing..."
she said to herself. Hadn't she said that before?
She looked down at the piece of cardstock with their school's emblem.
The little black eagle morphed and changed into the silhouette of a barn owl. It grew until its black shape leapt off the card, taking flight, soon engrossing her field of vision and plunging her into a world of darkness with "Help me, Lysander" still on her lips.
Sarah was standing in front of a wrap-around mirror, allowing her to see each and every angle of each and every curve of her body. She could remember only one occasion when she looked this beautiful. She could remember...what could she remember? Her mind was hazy.
"Don't mind those nerves, my lady," said a beautiful young woman to Sarah's right with pale skin and pink flowers growing from her hair. She stood about five feet tall, perhaps shorter, and was clad in a dress of willow branches.
"Nerves make one's mind turn to cotton. Just relax," said the other young woman to her left. This one had earth-colored skin and moss instead of hair on her head and above her eyes where eyebrows normally grew. The two plant-like sprites were adjusting Sarah's dress and fixing her hair. Their voices were soothing; Sarah let every thought in her head become still and allowed herself to drift along.
Sarah wore a dress of pure white; it was a wedding dress that was unmatched in all the lands, shining and glinting in the sunlight that poured through the castle windows. The corset was cinched tight, exaggerating her hourglass figure, with butterflies of gold thread climbing from waist to bosom, forming a rim on the low, sweetheart neckline. Her sleeves were unattached from the corset and made of opaque tulle on which a few gold butterflies also sat in an unsymmetrical pattern, as if they had alighted there by accident, save for the large, identically shaped and sized butterflies on each wrist. Sarah noticed with a little gasp that the butterflies occasionally fluttered their wings, air passing straight through their hollow frames.
Her hoop skirt was not a circular hoop. Rather, it was made of two layers. The under-layer of her dress's skirt was straight, plain white silk, lying close to the legs and flat in the front, taught against where her legs met her torso and her thighs. The top layer of the skirt had a triangular cut in the front, revealing the under-layer like a drawn curtain. This top layer was thick white lace with gold detail, also cinching tight around her waist. It was supported on Sarah's left and right by the "hoop," its framework gaining elevation as the circumference extended behind her, causing this layer to extending several feet into the air, supported in the air. The effect of her skirt gave the impression wind was blowing against her, as if she were flying forward through both space and time, persisting against the gale.
The dress had a low back, the corset reaching less than halfway up her spine. The train of her dress was also adorned with golden, wire butterflies. Only one of the delicate creatures was fixed in the center of the small of her back. A single-file line of butterflies trailed away from this one, eventually accumulating two-by-two, three-by-three, and so forth until the entire bottom of the train was adorned with several. The rim of the train was gold roses.
Sarah's hair had less volume than the night of her first dance with Jareth. It hung in long, loose curls gathered behind her, golden roses intertwining in and out of the locks. A single golden chain came across her forehead, as if it were a low-hanging halo, tucking neatly behind her hair and wrapping behind her ears. Sarah held her arms in front of her, staring in disbelief at the delicate fabrics. Everything was so light, it was as if she were wearing feathers or tissue paper. Her nails were gold as were her lips, painted with what Sarah wondered was real gold.
Sarah felt beautiful. She was beautiful. It was as if she were looking at herself for the first time. She could barely believe that the image in the mirror was her, that such finery could adorn her own body, that she could look so...grown up.
"It's everything you've ever wanted..." the girl to her right said dreamily.
The chins of her two attendants snapped up as a trumpet fanfare rang out.
The door burst open, and a tall, lady-goblin rushed into the room. She had a round, toadish face and dark green skin. She wore a wine-red raggedy dress with a blue frock over it. Sarah noticed her natty, gray hairy had been pinned up in far too many ribbons of varying which color and size, with tufts of hair sticking out everywhere at odd angles and in no particular pattern. She supposed that counted as "dressing up" when it came to goblins.
"Alright, alright let's get a move on, Dryads, it's not every day a girl gets married," the Goblin said in a gruff, no-nonsense voice. Sarah simply followed when the lady goblin turned and exit the room. The two assuredly Dryads scurried around her, shooing her towards the door. Sarah's head still felt heavy, as if original thought wouldn't come. Her mind was silent. She turned and took one last look in the large mirror behind her as the two little sprites pulled her along.
The goblin who had collected them lead the way along a long dark hallway, making the occasional turn here and there.
"My dear, you look lovely. It's a big day in the kingdom when a princess becomes a queen. The king will be very pleased with you. This is what you've been anticipating for so long!"
"So long..." echoed Sarah. Everything felt so surreal. Sarah thought that the dress must be a dream; she had never worn something so beautiful. She wished she could go back to the room and look at the dress again...which room...? What had that room looked like...?
"Oooooh yes, my dear," their guide interjected, without any need to speak so suddenly, "the whole Labyrinth will be there. The court, the officials, the goblins, and every lucid being in the labyrinth. All eyes on you—as they should be. You look lovely, my dear." The goblin's voice has taken on a sticky sweet tone with an edge to it that Sarah couldn't identify. Sarah was sure she was just imagining it; this was her wedding day. It was everything she'd ever wanted...
"Everything you've ever wanted," said her attendants one after another in that hazy, dreamlike voice.
The four of them entered a doorway that brought them into blinding sunlight; it was a moment before Sarah's eyes adjusted.
The courtyard was enormous. It was filled with masked men and women in elegant dresses and suits. The crowd was a rainbow of multicolored material, elaborately tucked and folded. Some dresses shone, some glittered, and some glinted with reflective rhinestones. Sarah noticed goblins in the crowd, fitting in between the legs of the Gentry. Some of them even stood on feet and clung like marsupials to calves and thighs.
Where were Hoggle, Ludo, and Didymus?
Then, Sarah looked ahead of her down the long lane that split the crowd in two. There he was.
Jareth stood thirty feet ahead in a gold suit. The gold suit jacket was over a white, button-up shirt with ruffles on the chest and peeking out the ends of the jacket's sleeves. The golden pants were tight-legged, and his shoes were not boots for once, but brown, buckle shoes with two inch heels that did not extend above his ankles, shoes would see in an 18th century painting of a British monarch. The ends of his hair, which had been dyed blue once, were now gold. He caught the sunlight like a diamond, the light reflecting off him from different points and multiple colors. Sarah thought she had never seen someone so beautiful.
Sarah didn't know how or when, but a bouquet of gold roses had appeared in her hands. The trumpets stopped, and a new song began. There was an orchestral backdrop to a bluesy guitar, electric bass, and soft snare beat played with drum brushes.
I want love so badly, I want you most of all.
It's harder to take it from anyone, it's harder to fall.
Can you hear me call you?
Can you hear me? Can you hear my call…
Without meaning to, she began to walk down the aisle, as if something were pulling her.
With her first steps, the butterflies on her train began to flutter their wings, and her train was lifted two inches off the ground, floating along behind her. Sarah felt as though she herself were floating.
As she passed the crowd, their unblinking eyes stared at her from behind masks, their pert smiles were drawn taught.
She reached Jareth's side. She was in a daze, but when she looked at him, everything came into focus.
Then, her bouquet turned into a swarm of a hundred golden butterflies. The crowd ooed and awed as she and Jareth were enveloped in a shower of gold that lifted itself into the sky, dissipating into golden flecks before turning to thin air.
Sarah wished she could smile, but all she could do was let her mouth hang open in awe and look around in bewilderment.
Seemingly out of air, there was a tall, relatively humanoid goblin in front of them wearing official red robes. Sarah looked at Jareth and her eyes locked on his. She wanted to look away. She tried to look away, but something forced her to be trapped in his gaze. She couldn't move.
Quietly, he spoke. "You're beautiful, my love. We've waited for this day for so long, have we not?" he asked.
"Yes..." said Sarah. She felt as if it were not her own voice. "For so long..."
"To all those gathered here today, welcome," began the official in front of them. "We gather here today to join in matrimony Jareth Denacrainn Lóhmharclach, King of the Goblins, Keeper of the Labyrinth, and Sarah Marie Williams, Champion of the Labyrinth. In this union shall the king take himself a queen. In this union shall this couple create a binding magical junction. In this union shall the queen take herself a kingdom."
There was a pause in his speech.
"Sarah, now you can have everything," whispered Jareth. "Like you've always wanted."
"Like I've always..." Sarah whispered, repeating after him.
"Do you, Jareth, Keeper of the Labyrinth" the goblin began again, "take Sarah as your queen, to join in magical matrimony, to embark on your journey through immortality, to share in your claim to the throne, to rule, serve, and protect this kingdom so long as you both are fit, by all the laws and power of magic, your dreams come true?"
"My dreams come true. I do," said Jareth. His stare never left Sarah's eyes, captivating her and holding her gaze in place.
Sarah's focus on Jareth's eyes faltered. There was something about those words...dreams come true...
"Do you, Sarah, Champion of the Labyrinth, take Jareth as your king, to join in magical matrimony, to embark on your journey through immortality, to share in his claim to the throne, to rule, serve, and protect this kingdom so long as you both are fit, by all the laws and power of magic, your dreams come true?"
"My dreams come true...I..." there was something about the words that was wrong. Her dreams...
"Sarah," Jareth said, barely a whisper, "This is your dream. We've been making preparations for so long. You could hardly wait. This is everything you've ever dreamed of."
A vision of goblins preparing a feast table popped in Sarah's head. She saw a seamstresses preparing her wedding dress. She saw herself and Jareth strolling through the ballroom pointing to things that would have to change for the reception. Of course, she remembered now; how could she forget?
"Yes, everything I've ever dreamed of...my dreams?"
"Everything, darling," Jareth reassured again. Suddenly the tall goblin in front of them with a single tuft of hair was holding a plain wooden box with the lid thrown back; inside was a golden tiara more delicate and intricate than Sarah had ever seen. Golden wires intertwined and interlaced with diamonds inlaid like water droplets. It took her breath away.
"My dreams come true," she continued. The tiara brought everything into clarity. The haziness dissipated; she was no longer drifting.
This was her dream come true. Sarah pictured herself sitting on a throne wearing the crown. She pictured herself and Jareth standing at a castle window overlooking the whole Labyrinth. Jareth and her dancing in the ballroom full of masked figures. The two of them sitting in the garden while Hoggle, Ludo, and Didymus chased a rabbit nearby. Herself standing alone on a stage in front of a thousand people.
The stage.
Her dream was to be an actress; her whole life, all she had dreamt of was being a successful actress. She was Hermia at the Globe theater, her name was in lights on Broadway, she was signing autographs in LA...
"My dreams," said Sarah, emerging from the haze like a rocket from earth's atmosphere. She looked around. The goblins looked at her quizzically, waiting for her next move, but the people...there were no longer eyes staring at her; only black gaping pits filled the eye holes of the masks.
"It is my dream to become an actress," Sarah said with finality.
A collective gasp went across the goblins. The goblin who was officiating looked back and forth between Sarah and Jareth with wide eyes, unsure what to do.
Jareth grabbed Sarah by the arm and turned her to him.
"Sarah, you can have it all. You've dreamt of the Labyrinth, playing dress up and reciting stanzas. You ran the Labyrinth and became it's champion. You found yourself here; this is your dream. Join me, Sarah..."
His grip had tightened on her arm. With his free had he seized the tiara and set it roughly on her head. The hairs on the back of Sarah's head prickled as she felt the tension in the air rising. She began to squirm in Jareth's grasp.
The tiara fit her perfectly. For a moment, she wondered if this really was her dream. Her free thought considered a life of royalty, a life of magic. Could she forsake her dreams for another life?
"No," said Sarah. "Jareth, this is not what I want." She began to fight. He grasped her other arm and held her fast; he was so much stronger that her, and she was held in place. Barely able to move, she let out a whimper.
"Look at me, Sarah. Look at me!" He said with a jolt. Sarah's struggling faltered. She stared into those different colored eyes. Those eyes that could be so cruel. Those eyes that would move stars for her and no one else.
"Are you sure this is not what you want?" he asked.
How could feelings be so conflicting? How could the heart simultaneously want completely different things, wondered Sarah.
She stopped struggling, gazing deeper into the windows of Jareth's soul. Sarah thought she could stay there forever, swimming in the clear pools of his eyes.
She reached up her right hand to caress his face, stroking his left cheek. She brought her left hand up to do the same. She placed both palms on either cheek and ran her thumbs in circles on his sharp cheekbones. Jareth let out an almost imperceptible purr.
"Not like this," said Sarah finally. It was time for her to wake up.
Sarah did not know if she would marry someday, but she did know she certainly did not feel ready to wed at seventeen years old. Her choice would come when she was ready—and when the choice was indeed hers, and not a fantasy-driven dream.
Sarah prayed this would wake her up, but she also prayed Jareth would understand that some part of her truly meant what she was about to do. In one swift motion, Sarah tiptoed and brought her face to Jareth's. She parted her mouth slightly and allowed their soft lips to lock. What was only a millisecond felt like an hour. Sarah felt Jareth gasp, inhaling sharply through his nostrils. His grip on her arms slackened. There was no time to deepen the kiss, no time to taste each other's sweetness, no time to hold one another. The surge of adrenaline and endorphins woke her immediately.
A few notes: I thought about making more Hermia dream references but I felt it wasn't pertinent to the story.
The song is "Can You Hear Me" by David Bowie (1975, Young Americans).
His name is taken from Irish for "Of the Trees" – "De Na Crainn"
I researched several words and conjugations for his last name, I wanted something reminiscent of the crystal city; "loh" is "bare," but "ó" is "from." "cloch" or "clach" is "stone." His last name is very close to the word for skeleton, mhar being a specific conjugation of "to kill" or "death."
*I am not an expert in Irish, I do not know much about Irish other than what my Irish friend and the internet tell me. I don't wish for this to be seen as any sort of appropriation, I just played around with words and thought the name sounded nice, please enjoy =)
Next chapter we dive a little deeper into the world of the Labyrinth!