A/N* Not much of an introduction on this one, kids. Hope you enjoy. Shoutouts to Coralline, MISS-DEATH-WAS-HERE, notwritten, Ikuni Hattori, and KCDaMofo. Thanks for your great reviews!
Chapter 10
The moment Sarah opened her eyes, she knew that this was not right and that something was horribly wrong. In the distance, she could hear wailing and weeping, as though the entire city were in tears. Sarah looked about herself, she was enveloped in the silken blankets and sheets in Jareth's chambers – but he was nowhere to be seen. Sarah stared up at the ceiling and hot tears began to burn their way down her cheeks. She did not know why she was crying – she only knew that there was a reason she should be crying.
Finally, Sarah rose from the bed to look out the window onto the Labyrinth. Beyond the window, however there was no Labyrinth – the beautiful land had been replaced with a maroon and crimson stained battlefield. Bodies were strewn about the field –mostly goblins, but amongst them, Sarah saw a flash of silver blonde.
She ran out of the castle as fast as her feet could carry her. Outside the light was bright—so bright that she could hardly see the desecrated battlefield before her. She started shifting through the bodies – goblin men, women and children. The entire city had been taken.
Suddenly, Sarah felt something solid beneath her feet. Bending down, Sarah retrieved the silver medallion. She ran her fingers over the smooth medal—the edges were slightly sharp and she scratched her finger on the polished surface. She watched as the blood dripped from the cut and fell onto the blood-soaked ground. She took another step into the battlefield, fear rising in her throat like a scream. She was sure that if she kept walking, the world would fall down.
She fell to her knees when she saw him. His platinum blonde hair was stained red with his blood, and his eyes staring into nothing. She ran her hands through his hair and rested her forehead against his – tears coursing down her cheeks. Behind her, she heard the crunching of footsteps, but she did not turn away from her Jareth – it was as if he were the only thing in this world.
She knew that she was about to die. The same who had killed him would kill her, but she welcomed it. She would be with her Jareth again.
As Sarah became aware of herself in the morning light, she felt the same hot tears staining her face and her pillow. She felt Jareth's hand on her waist, holding her close. She hoped he had not seen her nightmare – perhaps that would save some explanations.
"Sarah?" She heard her name whispered in his deep, melodic voice – but it sounded scared and worried. She felt his other hand in her hair and then on her face, wiping her tears away. "What happened, Sarah?" Sarah opened her eyes and looked into Jareth's. She had never been so happy to see his mismatched eyes –so full of life that she began weeping anew. She looked at him, taking in every detail of the Goblin King as though she had never seen him before. Her eyes fell on the medallion which lay, shimmering in the morning sun, on his bare chest. She traced it with her finger, but the edges were not nearly as sharp as they had been in the nightmare. "Sarah?"
"Nightmare." She whispered, her voice small.
"What?" Jareth looked baffled and troubled.
"Just… a nightmare. I've had them a lot since I arrived in the Underground." She said, looking up at him at last.
"Sarah," He looked pained as he tried to find the words to finish. "We don't dream in the Underground."
"What?" She asked, her hands ceasing their tracing of the medallion on his chest, and he looked down at her gravely.
"Sarah, because we are too near the Kingdom of Dreams, we don't dream in the Underground."
"What's happening to me, Jareth?"
"Tell me about your dream, Love." He whispered, holding her tighter.
Jareth listened intently, his arms tight about her as she began telling her dream. She was still trembling. She reached out and ran her finger along his medallion again as she told of finding the medallion in the field and cutting her hand on it.
"The edges used to be sharp, when it was new." He said, taking her hand from his medallion and kissing her fingers in turn – but there were no marks on her perfect hands. She looked up at him again. "Please continue, Sarah." She told more then – of finding him in the battlefield and knowing her death was approaching – her tears unceasing from the moment she admitted to finding his body.
Jareth did not know what to say, and so he simply held her instead. He could imagine how she felt – so scared and sad. Although he did not dream in the Underground, he had asked Morpheus for dreams before – right after Sarah left the first time. They had not always been pleasant dreams.
"What is your medallion, Jareth? I've never seen you take it off, even last night." Jareth jumped a little – her voice had startled him out of his rumination. She sat up and Jareth adjusted himself so he was level with her, his arm still about her.
"It is a symbol of my position." Jareth said, running his hands over the smooth metal. "It's more than a symbol, actually. A crown is a symbol; this is something more – in many ways, you could say that it is my power."
"So, what would happen if you took it off?"
"I don't know. I have never taken it off." He turned his hand and looked at the thin, white scar that ran down his middle finger. He had gotten it from the medallion many years ago and he supposed that it was very much like the cut on Sarah's hand in the dream. Jareth smiled as he felt Sarah's hand in hair. He looked at her; she had leaned close, her eyes dancing a little as the dream slipped away. "Is that devious expression of yours natural or do you have to put in an effort to achieve it?"
"It's natural." She replied, smiling.
"I would have known." Jareth said as he leaned down and kissed her. In a flurry, he remembered the night before. He could hardly believe what had happened between them – their love and passion had been remarkable and he knew he'd never take back anything he'd said or done last night. It had all been true – he knew – had always known – that Sarah was the only woman for him in this or any world.
"Don't you have duties to attend to?" Sarah asked.
"It is still very early, Love." He said, kissing her lightly again. "But as you are awake, have you ever seen the sunrise over the Labyrinth?"
"Only out my window."
"You must see it properly. It's the most beautiful thing in this world." Jareth replied, standing and crossing to the wardrobe which revealed an appropriate outfit for him. He turned to look at Sarah, she was standing with the sheet wrapped about her, but even through it, he could see her gentle curves. She had grown up a lot since she was fifteen. "Come here." He said, closing the wardrobe. "Let my wardrobe select something for you. You are driving me out of my mind standing there in that sheet." She smiled, but sauntered by him and pulled open the wardrobe.
Jareth turned and walked to the window. He knew that he would lose what little control he had if he watched her remove that sheet. He turned again when he heard her coming up behind him. She was wearing an elaborate black bodice with deep crimson ties all the way up the front and a long black skirt. He ran his hands around her waist and leaned in, breathing in the smell of her hair.
"Come, My Love, let's go." He whispered, summoning a crystal in one hand while his other was still around her waist. In a twist of the crystal, he and Sarah were standing on the top of the keep looking out at the Labyrinth in all directions. The sun was just appearing over the hills between his kingdom and the others and he heard Sarah gasp as the light fell on the Labyrinth – illuminating its red sandstone walls.
"Is this real?"
"Very real, Sarah." The two of them stood in silence arms about one another as the sun rose – bringing light to all that had once been in the dark.
Sonnet 27
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travail tired;
But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when body's work's expired.
For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see.
Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.