The Goblins were as obnoxious and unattractive as Sarah remembered. Without preamble they grabbed her and before Sarah could blink she was standing in a familiar austere and dusty hall in a familiar castle. Her little white room had melted away into nothing and the book which she remembered so fondly was gone. The Goblins dispersed and suddenly she found herself standing before the throne of the man she remembered from the worm's house. He was wearing the pendant and his eyes were savage and cold.
"Where is Jareth?" She asked and those arresting cerulean eyes seemed to stab at her.
"On death's door." He intoned. "Are mortals so helpless that they cannot grasp the concept of reading a book? It took you long enough." He sneered angrily. "Or did you hope to wait until he really was dead."
Sarah breathed deeply and her eyes narrowed. "Take me to him. Now." She ordered coolly and the new king looked entirely enraged, however he still did not move a muscle.
"Even if I do, he will not be able to grant your-"
"Now!" She cried. Lot scowled.
"You would do well to remember to treat your betters with some respect. Or do you need to be reacquainted with the extent of our power?" He sneered and Sarah bowed her head.
"Your Highness," she began far more politely but with a definite edge to her voice, "May I visit with the-"
Before she could blink she was standing before the bed of an emaciated and grey Jareth. It nearly put her to tears; the cadaverous thing left rotting in the bed an insult to the beauty and power she remembered. Though she had never particularly liked or considered Jareth beyond a brief 'Damn, he was really hot. Shouldda done him while I had the chance' since her previous foray in the Labyrinth pity tugged at her heart strings. She knelt beside his bed, not daring to touch him.
"Jareth?" She whispered and his darker eye fluttered open. He started to mumble incoherently and frantically. The words she had read earlier seemed to reverberate from the very walls.
Should either the bestowed or bestower not graciously adhere to this simple rule the balance will be broken and each shall suffer severe consequences until it is restored.
From the looks of the previous goblin king Sarah could definitely believe that he had been suffering as she had been. He continued to mumble and howl.
"Jareth." She began softly, reaching out for his long fingered and skeletal hand. He seemed to come awake from his terror with a jolt the second she touched him. He looked at her with severely dulled mismatched eyes.
"It's really me. I promise." She said softly and his fingers closed weakly about her own.
"I never meant…It's just that I…I…"
"You wanted me." Sarah interjected on a tiny knowing breath and Jareth looked ashamed. It was only then that the true depth of his condition hit Sarah. He was stripped of all dignity and inhibition, the way that only a dying man would be. He no longer cared if she was awed or impressed by him. It no longer mattered to him whether she feared him or not.
"Yes." He answered and laboriously maneuvered her hand toward his nonexistent lips. "And with my judgment clouded, I scared you off before I could explain what needed to be done." He said and barely managed to kiss her hand before dropping it.
"Is it too late?" She asked as she slowly withdrew her hand from his cadaverous chest, one of her fingers nearly fitting in the hollows between his bones.
"No." He said with a grateful smile and suddenly fear overtook him. Sarah could recognize the look in his eyes. She had just watched her own father die.
"No!" She cried out, her hand nearly snapping his own in two. "You have to grant the wish! You have to fix this! You have—"
"He had fallen in love with the girl and had granted her cert…" As his words died on his lips his eyes shifted and then changed. They were the scared brown doe eyes of a sandy haired little boy.
"Toby…?" She murmured and suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of her head. Darkness quickly overtook her. The last thing she saw was a red-faced and furious Lot screaming like a banshee as Jareth's entire body began to crumble upon itself, wreathed in asphyxiating smoke.
MS: Maybe I am kidding you. I've always had a strange sense of humor.
Aysuh: Oh yeah, we reach a whole new level of dark. I mean, it's not bad at all compared to some of my other stuff, but for this fandom it's D.A.R.K.
Curly-kitty: Dr. Palmer is the BOSS. Straight up. He chops off his balls and dies every day.
CoffeeKris: It's actually the beginning of the resurrection of the Electric Light Orchestra. The Goblins just came to spike the punch. Just call it a sort of Holy Palmer's Kiss I guess.
Misplaced Soul: Thanks! I love your penname by the way.
hazlgrnlizzy: Idk man. I just write it. I'm beyond thrilled that it made you think though.
A/N: There is a House down in New Orleans. They Call the rising Sun. And it's been the ruin of many a poor girl. And me, oh god I'm one.