Chapter Twelve: So a Soul is Lost
Sarah stared down, seemingly in a strange spell, and into the porcelain mug
clutched firmly in whitened hands. They shook, causing tremors to overcome the once
smooth brown liquid, that had long since lost its original warmth. Her palms, now devoid
of feeling from the heat they had sustained, were only mildly stinging with the burn dealt
out by the hot china.
So, her eyes, a shade that matched the untouched coffee, remained set on the
swirling shapes and ripples that continued to make their way across the liquid. It was like
a tiny pool, full of life, and strange of color. Her mind never once registered the fact that
this had been given to her hours earlier, and still she had not moved an inch since then.
About shoulder, slightly slouched over in denial of everything, rested a comforting
afghan. It had been lovingly crocheted into amazing patterns that would have boggled
Sarah's mind, had she though about it. Still, the tender pastel hues that arched over her
back and hung down, reaching nearly to the ground, felt calming around her. It was like
wearing a rainbow, or maybe a fantasy story from the past that did not have a poor
ending.
She blinked, but did so only once, still overcome by the day's events. Sarah's face,
a brilliant and beautiful visage if ever one was seen, had taken on a sickly pale shade,
leaving her lips to nearly scream out in their defiant redness. She had chewed on them as
she tried to cope, and had come out far from victorious. Her mouth rested, parted
slightly, to reveal pearly teeth, straight and perfect, as most everything was that belonged
to her. She had been blessed, and cursed. Those same physical attributes that would form
envy in others, caused her nothing but grief.
With another blink her eyelashes brushed her cheek, as butterfly kisses. Soft,
tender, they were everything that she did not have, could not have in her life anymore.
She was hardened from reality, far too much that had broken in on her over the course of
only eight years. Her dreams had been shattered, her heart left to wither in utter
destruction, and the last of her rationale disappeared down the drain with the crimson flow
that poured from her sliced wrists.
So she sat, as if she was only another strange, but shocking life-like figure in the
horrid mansion. Fontridge surrounded her from all angles, perhaps mocking in splendid
glory, the girl who had been thrown into the deep end, with no hope of floundering her
way to safety. She was among enemies, and strange circumstances, as well as certain
figures from past adventures. This was her life, such a splendid adventure, that soon
would end, and she would be sure of it this time.
Sarah broke her catatonic state and glanced down at the torn and bloodied
bandages about her wrists. Gabrielle had grabbed her in attempts to sustain the hysterical
Sarah, and had succeeded in nearly ripping the gauze from her arm. It would not have
mattered, even if the very stitched had been torn out, for Sarah felt nothing, she had been
numb.
Her lips moved to mouth some words, or perhaps even a sentence, but nothing
could be heard. Of course, there was no one in the grand room, that would perhaps be
called a living room in more quaint situations. She could have proclaimed at the top of her
voice, that she planned on taking her life that night, and still none would be any the wiser.
She was safe, and that made her plan much more terrifying. If she did it now, there would
be no one to save her.
Sarah's heart fluttered in fear, though she knew what had to be done. She could
not live a life in constant terror and anxiety, that simply was not possible. With a deep
breath she at last placed the cup and saucer atop a near by table.
With a shrug of her shoulders, the blanket toppled to the sofa she had sat upon.
Then, struggling only slightly with the lack of feeling in her legs, rose to her feet. Sarah
shook out the cramps that had come during her frozen state, remaining perfectly still.
That was never pleasant. The feeling of blood flowing back into her legs made her nearly
fall back to the comfortable love seat, but she continued on towards the hall that would
eventually lead to her bedroom.
She had tried everything, had even ignored the mysterious disappearing woman
and the deserted room. Sarah could easily convince herself that the entire event had been
an illusion, brought on by her state of mind, but the fire had been the final shock that had
broken what little bit of a grip she had had on sanity, or whatever control she held over
her life. This was where it would end.
Outside the moon had already risen, which surprised her momentarily. It had been
early in the afternoon when she had entered the theatre to try to rehearse. However,
Sarah had no clue as to how long she had remained seated in the sofa, as people (namely
Gabrielle and even Peter) scurried around to make her comfortable and calm her down.
Night could have easily fallen as she remained alone, with only her horrid thoughts for
company.
She paused briefly on course to the hallway, averted by the tinkling sound of a
piano playing in some distant room. Sarah perked her ears in attentive admiration and
then allowed a ghost of a smile to pass over her features. The piano had always been her
favorite instrument, such a lovely thing to hear. Whomever now played was remarkable at
doing so.
Sarah nearly continued on, but stopped once again and glanced towards the area
from which she believed the sound emanated. It was at least worth seeing who had such
talent in music. Sarah sighed and then started the entire different direction, not worried
about becoming lost in the least, for there was the music to follow.
She pushed open a rather large and heavy door and stared down the dimly lit
corridor. It was strangely different from others in that way, the lack of illumination.
Actually, Sarah glanced at the walls and realized in shock that they were made of stone,
almost like those of the castle at the center of the Labyrinth.
The door shut behind her, and Sarah suddenly realized that, as she looked at the
different walls, she had entered into the eerie passage. She shivered as a case of nerves
stole over her determined soul, that had resurfaced for the time being. It was strange to
think that she had planned on killing herself only a short time ago. Sarah trembled again at
the thought and took a single step into the hallway.
"Sarah, does this seem unreal to you? Why don't you learn after all you've faced?
Doesn't this seem like another dream?" her subconscious mind questioned knowingly.
She stopped in midstride and looked at the flickering orange gleams that lit the
way. A realization stole over her mind as she looked at the dancing flames, mounted atop
a wooden shaft, that rested in an iron case. This walkway had been illuminated using
torches entirely , and no modern lights. Perhaps her mind had been correct in the
assumption that this was yet another dream, and that her waking body rested in the 'living
room', asleep.
However, the sweet sound of the piano drove her ever onward, almost as if the
notes moved her feet instead of her own muscles. If it had not been for her roused
curiosity, Sarah might have found herself rather unnerved at the lack of control she had
over the entire situation. It reminded her, but only briefly, of The Phantom of the Opera,
another of her all time favorites.
She gazed down at herself, almost half expecting to see some extravagant form of
clothing now adorning her body. Yet, she was met with the normal apparition of her
dingy gray sweats, the same in which she had awakened . Perhaps her original idea of a
dream had been a bit hasty, for surely she would have changed her attire to meet the
mysterious pianist.
Sarah turned her attention back to the music and listened closely, trying to
decipher where to head, and which room held the secret of the piano and its player. Sarah
carefully pressed an ear to each passing door, as the sound grew stronger and closer with
every passing step. She would hold her breath and listen attentively, anxious to her the
resonating sound of keys and notes hanging in space for a short time, only to drift away
into oblivion.
However, time and again she was met with disappointment. Each room held
nothing save perhaps old furniture and dust. Of course, Sarah seriously doubted that any
inch of Fontridge had so much as a single grain of grime. She had seen no flaw in its
perfection, except the strange destroyed and abandoned room that Peter had seemed so
determined to keep locked away from everyone.
"This is pointless," Sarah exclaimed, under a heavy sigh.
She leaned against the cold stone wall, almost feeling like the young teen who had
entered into a seemingly unsolvable labyrinth years ago. It was the same in either
direction, if one did not know the correct way to look. Sarah glanced at the door across
from her, same as the others. Another oddity in the hall, everything was surprisingly
uniform and devoid of the lavish art that adorned the rest of the mansion.
Now the music sounded as if it came from all around her. It had to be close, but
she could not even begin to imagine where it was. She had believed that she had found it
several minutes earlier, and still was not any closer to discovering the hidden secret.
With a heavy heart, and heavier steps, she reached out to the door across from her.
Sarah's last bit of hope rested with this final passageway. She hesitated briefly, her
fingertips only slightly touching the smooth surface of the polished knob. Then, assuring
herself that this would be quite the same as all the others, she turned the knob and swung
open the wide oak door.
At once she was bathed in a washing glare of orange candlelight. From every
angle rested a serene white candle, wax lazily dripping down to rest on the crystalline
coasters below each and every one. Wherever she looked, Sarah could see the dancing
flames, almost hypnotic in their motion, and sweeping across her was the piano music,
now forming into a familiar tune.
The figure sitting behind the instrument, moved with the music, accentuating his
fluid grace in every bob and sway. He wore a dark cloak, to hide any familiar appearances
that Sarah might notice. She, however, found it all too enticing to leave, and ventured
into the room, losing her inhibitions as the scent of hundreds of candles cloaked her
senses.
She twisted about, adoring the scenery, the orange luminess of the flames and
medieval quality to the music. She could easily imagine a time when fairies really were
prevalent upon the earth, and princes rode off to fight dragons for the hand of the lovely
maiden, or perhaps even a princess.
She only vaguely sensed the figure behind the piano raise to his feet, the cloak
drifting in a black shadow-like appearance. Still the lovely music continued, and she
began to dance, and cease her half-hearted movements for those of a fluid waltz. The
dark figure moved near her, he too taking up the dance, and soon he grasped her hand in
his.
At once Sarah felt part of the whole, as the stranger led her into movements that
flowed like silk, and as intoxicating as any liquor that could be concocted. He spun her
about, easily keeping the beat, and soon Sarah felt herself only concerned with the song
and her mysterious dance partner.
Then, startling her only briefly, words accompanied the, since then, solo music.
"There's no living in my life anymore.
The seas have gone dry and the rain stopped falling.
Please don't you cry anymore.
Can't you see?
Listen to the breeze, whisper to me please
Don't send me to the path of nevermore!
Even the valleys below
Where the rays of sun were so warm and tender
Now haven't anything to grow
Can't you see?
Why did you have to leave me?
Why did you deceive me?
You send me to the path of nevermore!
When you say you didn't love me anymore!"
The man stopped his song and jerked back the hood that had hidden his face so
well. Sarah looked at him with a mild drugged expression. Although, the moment her
slowed mind finally registered who this was that had danced with her, and had sung for
her, she pulled away, in a replay from the crystal ballroom years earlier.
Sarah found herself moving differently, as if her weight had shifted. She looked
down once again and found that, in place of her sweats, was now a magnificent crimson
ballgown. It scooped down low in the front, to a bodice that was embroidered with rubies
and crystalline dust, which shone magnificently in the candlelight. At her hips, the fitted
bodice ended, allowing layers of flared skirts to sweep down to the floor, covering her feet
and even trailing a bit on the stone ground. Her hair was done up in a miraculous network
of spirals and curls, and all fastened with a single red clip, adorned much the same as the
dress. About her neck was a choker, this white, the only other color she now wore.
Sarah looked in horror towards her enemy, Jareth, who smiled almost humanely.
He offered her his gloved hand once again, but she flinched away from him and lunged out
for the door. However, she was met with only wall, and the discovery that there was no
escape while Jareth did not wish it so. Sarah spun around, anger raging in her eyes, and
reflecting the crimson shade of the dress. Even her cheeks flushed and her lips, also now
covered in bright lipstick, formed into a frown.
"Nevermore, Nevermore, Nevermore....," the voice faded, though Jareth never did
move his lips to utter the words.
He threw down the cloak, revealing his remarkable form, resplendent in a flowing
poet shirt, the matching shade of Sarah's gown, and a leather vest, black in contrast. His
pants were also black, blending into the boots. His feral eyes, changeling eyes, observed
her slyly and then he managed to approach her, but only a single step.
"Let me out of this dream!" Sarah demanded, not allowing Jareth to come any
closer than he was.
Jareth cocked his head at her statement and then smirked a bit at what she did not
know. He dared another step, and once again Sarah retreated. She was not willing to be
near him again, not after that lovely dance, and the almost real dream. Pity it had been
only that, a figment of Sarah's imagination. Oh, but what an imagination!
"What leads you to believe this all a dream? Does my presence signify fantasy
only?" Jareth taunted, now crossing his arms over the black leather vest.
Sarah nearly hissed at his questions to answer her own inquiries. He did that
constantly. She would have struck out at him, had it not been for the strange, growing
urge to leap into his arms. She shook her head and continued to back away from his
advances. Yet, it was growing achingly obvious that soon there would be nowhere for her
to go.
"Jareth, I am not dull! I can easily see this dress and the changing room as obvious
factors in a dream. Why must you torment me?" she asked, now taking a step towards the
Goblin King instead of backing away.
Jareth paused briefly to think over her questions. Sarah was intelligent, but simply
closed off to all the possibilities of life. After all, he had come to her before out of dreams,
when Toby had been taken and several times in the Labyrinth.
"My magic is not limited to parlor tricks, my dear. The formation of a dress, or
adding candles and music to your pointless life is not difficult for a Fae king," Jareth
replied.
"Why!" She asked, her eyes pleading with him to explain why, of all the young
women in the world, he had chosen her life into which he would make his presence
known.
With that he reached out again and took her chin into his hand. The coarse touch
of the black leather glove was everything she hated, the last memory of him and his cruel
ways while she traversed the perilous labyrinth. Sarah yearned to pull away, but knew that
it was not the time yet to be defiant. She could sense an answer, after so very long
wondering the reason for his appearing to her time and again.
"That heart, that soul, your imagination, your spirit. I loved them all for a time,
and they grew as you did, and I watched from my castle. Don't be so dense to believe
that finding the book was chance, and uttering the words, Toby being taken.... don't you
see? It was done all for you, to show you your dreams in form of the Underground. And
you cast it away, losing everything that separated you from all else," Jareth stopped, his
eyes burning into hers in their two distinct shades.
A single silver tear trickled from her eye and traveled down her cheek. Jareth
reached out tenderly and brushed it aside. Even that touch sent shivers down her spine. It
was true that, even though she had been but fourteen when first driven into the
Underground, at the first sight of this handsome king, Sarah had felt a tingling attraction,
almost electric. Now, she was not sure if she could feel anything anymore, save sorrow
and pain.
Jareth removed his hand from her face and turned her arms over. A pain, deep and
nearly hidden, formed in his eyes as he looked at the bloodied bandages. He then turned
his gaze back to the young girl, begging for an explanation as to why she should choose
such a fate as suicide. However, Sarah could not answer.
"I returned for what was left, though I fear nothing remains in that empty shell.
Where have you traveled Sarah, and where do you hide? I cannot see it any longer, and
my crystals are all blank, only showing me darkness. You have taken that light and
doused it repeatedly, hoping to dwell in soothing darkness," he spoke so very close to her
face, his breath brushing against her ear and driving her almost mad with passion.
"Please, no," she begged, and leaned against him as sobs overtook her control she
had once had on her emotions.
Jareth enveloped the young woman in his arms, holding her in a magical embrace.
She felt safe, finally, for once in so many years. She could smile and truly be happy, not
just continue with the act after the play was over and done.
He touched her chin once again and guided her blurred gaze up to his. Jareth
looked down at her and, without a moment of hesitation moved in to cover her lips with
his own. In an instant the kisses deepened and he wrapped his arms about her, drawing
her nearer still. Sarah's hands found their way to his mane of golden hair, adoring its
silken texture.
His lips traced a path of fire down her neck, and to her collarbone, pausing only
slightly above the swell of her breasts, that heaved with each struggled breath she took.
The dress became far too tight, too heavy, she yearned to be free of the constricting
restraints of the material. She wanted to be with him, and only him forever.
His lips brushed like a breeze across her cheek and paused. Jareth's breath drew in
deeply and then swept across her ear, leaving her emotionally helpless and utterly under
his mystical control. A barely audible moan escaped from her mouth, more of a feral urge
that he cease the tormenting way in which he now treated her, and continue on, as he had
done earlier.
"Perhaps, there is something hidden behind those blank eyes, that destroyed
imagination. What is it you long for, my dear? What is it that is enclosed deep in your
soul, your most powerful desire? I can give you dreams that are so dark, you yourself
have yet to fully admit to them," Jareth whispered, touching her ear momentarily with his
tongue.
Sarah rolled her head back and uttered the same strange sound she had made a
moment before. She could find no words that would possibly bring her feelings into an
understandable reality. She literally burned with desires that ravaged across her entire
body, as if she were merely an evolutionary fall into the realms of wild cats. Sarah could
do nothing but think of him, and wonder, (somewhere far off, where this strange spell had
not cast its ludicrous light), where her true self had gone for refuge.
Jareth reached behind her trembling body, drawing his mouth so close to hers that
it took all her diminished will power not to kiss him, demanding that sweet passion to flow
forth, covering her entirely. With hands as lithe as a cat, he carefully unfastened the ruby
buttons that held this massive dress, clinging to her voluptuous figure. She felt the
material slide, slinking submissively to the floor, as if it too had fallen prey to Jareth's
seductive nature.
He guided her gently, as if acting like a gentleman in such a situation as this,
towards the bed cloaked in black silk. That was truly a contradiction if ever there was
one. Jareth, a gentleman, while he seduced her, a mortal by far his minor. Sarah was just
an innocent, naive girl, though her age would speak differently, as would her body's
needs.
"Twenty-four, and this is the first experience of lust such as this. Why Sarah, why
wait so long to feel these hands caress your skin? Why? Surely there have been others
who have pondered your cold nature as they slept, hurt and yearning for something that
only I can offer," she thought to herself as Jareth watched her sit upon the silken
bedspread.
He bent down, leaning her back so that she laid down, upon the mattress. Jareth
bent over her and stared into her eyes, dark orbits accentuated with chestnut highlights.
Oh, but they were so uniform in color with only the candle light illuminating the room.
She seemed to look out through pupils entirely, crowned with lush eyelashes, half closed
now in a mature, alluring expression.
He plunged forward, guiding her dress down further, though still allowing it to
separate their bodies. His lips tasted hers, but only for a moment before he backed up
once more and stared down at her shivering body.
"Surely there is one dream that you wish could be yours. We all have our hidden
aspects of ourselves, Sarah, and you're no different. Fantasies do not lie, and what was
played in your mind only last night was your own desire breaking through. Speak but one
word, and I will know that you wish to be saved from this mundane existence that is
slowly killing you," Jareth begged. However, deep inside his ambiguous words, she could
see the same meaning as was in his final plea when they two faced, so many years before.
The world whirled around before Sarah's eyes. Her mind nearly collapsed, leaving
her deaf and dumb, and entirely helpless with this monster prepared to pounce on her
vulnerable body. She looked around, seeing holes in the illusion. The bed, so soft and
delicate, was nothing, save a cast-away antique, battered beyond repair. The candles
faltered and showed the true darkness from every angle. Only Jareth did not change, for
he was the magic creating this grand charade.
She flung her arms about wildly, pushing at Jareth's weight to allow her freedom.
With one mighty surge of strength, Sarah found herself sitting, and Jareth across the room,
cold fire dancing in his Fae eyes. He had not fallen, but merely leapt aside as she had
fought back. It was easy to say, that Jareth had not expected such determination in a
woman whom he believed to be but a shell of her former self.
"Goblin King, your tricks will not work here. Leave me be, and abandon my
dreams and those hopes of 'rescuing me', as you so kindly put it. I will not be had in this
way by you. There is never truth in your words, nor love!" Sarah replied, her tones dead
with drained emotions and broken feelings.
Jareth approached her one final time, his eyes taking in the dangerously low dress,
which had sneaked down while she made her stubborn statement. Sarah quickly remedied
the situation, and pulled the garment back to her shoulders. Jareth's gaze averted to her
eyes, menacing and cold.
"I could have taken you entirely at that moment, Sarah, and you would have not
fought, only begged for more. Such a strong heart, unique soul, is so lost through pains of
adult life, and adult needs," Jareth whispered. He noted the broken look that plastered to
Sarah's face, and smiled.
Sarah narrowed her eyes, angered that what he had said had been so very true.
She would have allowed him to take her greatest, most protected treasure, and never
regretted until he flitted away to yet another woman who caught his interest. She wiped a
hand across her mouth, still feeling the touch of his warm lips against her own.
"I would never....," Sarah was beyond words, and disgusted to the point of nausea
when she thought about her actions, her animal behavior, "I wish only that I could banish
you from my life, using magic against..."
Jareth at once erupted into a wild bout of laughter. His eyes lit dangerously, and
Sarah could not help but feel threatened. She clutched the material tighter in her whitened
hands and backed against the bed as Jareth quieted. However, he produced a single
perfect crystal and set it gently upon the wooden floor.
"As you wish, Sarah," Jareth responded and then glanced at her casually, before
taking a single step back. With that he faded into a uniform orange glow, matching that of
the fading candles.
Sarah covered her face with her trembling hands, angered to a point of no return,
and unable to vent it upon the man whom had caused the emotion in the first place.
However, she could not remain that way forever, and soon forced herself to look about
the room. She found only the same sparse furniture that had been in the others, and not
even the piano remained.
Still, upon the ground rested a single crystalline orb, seemingly innocent and pure
in the room. It shone with a faint white hue, that seemed, if Sarah was not mistaken, to be
growing ever brighter with each passing heartbeat. She moved for the door, but found it
not there once again. Sarah turned her widened eyes back to the crystal, only to see that
the glow had grown to an intensity that was nearly painful.
Sarah shielded her eyes against the whiteness and tried to find some form of
escape. Yet, all she managed was to stumble about, groping for something in her blind
state, eyes firmly closed against the powerful light. She rapped her knee fiercely against
some odd piece of furniture and sunk to the ground, at once becoming bathed in the
growing illumination.
Sarah curled into a protective ball, terrified and unable to move even to save her
life. So she merely hid, her face buried in the layers of the red dress she still wore, and
silken tears slowly slipping from her cheek to shatter upon the countless sequins sewn to
the gown.
All Sarah could do was rest, and hope that Jareth had not sent the crystal to
destroy her, and with her his finest competition.
Sarah stared down, seemingly in a strange spell, and into the porcelain mug
clutched firmly in whitened hands. They shook, causing tremors to overcome the once
smooth brown liquid, that had long since lost its original warmth. Her palms, now devoid
of feeling from the heat they had sustained, were only mildly stinging with the burn dealt
out by the hot china.
So, her eyes, a shade that matched the untouched coffee, remained set on the
swirling shapes and ripples that continued to make their way across the liquid. It was like
a tiny pool, full of life, and strange of color. Her mind never once registered the fact that
this had been given to her hours earlier, and still she had not moved an inch since then.
About shoulder, slightly slouched over in denial of everything, rested a comforting
afghan. It had been lovingly crocheted into amazing patterns that would have boggled
Sarah's mind, had she though about it. Still, the tender pastel hues that arched over her
back and hung down, reaching nearly to the ground, felt calming around her. It was like
wearing a rainbow, or maybe a fantasy story from the past that did not have a poor
ending.
She blinked, but did so only once, still overcome by the day's events. Sarah's face,
a brilliant and beautiful visage if ever one was seen, had taken on a sickly pale shade,
leaving her lips to nearly scream out in their defiant redness. She had chewed on them as
she tried to cope, and had come out far from victorious. Her mouth rested, parted
slightly, to reveal pearly teeth, straight and perfect, as most everything was that belonged
to her. She had been blessed, and cursed. Those same physical attributes that would form
envy in others, caused her nothing but grief.
With another blink her eyelashes brushed her cheek, as butterfly kisses. Soft,
tender, they were everything that she did not have, could not have in her life anymore.
She was hardened from reality, far too much that had broken in on her over the course of
only eight years. Her dreams had been shattered, her heart left to wither in utter
destruction, and the last of her rationale disappeared down the drain with the crimson flow
that poured from her sliced wrists.
So she sat, as if she was only another strange, but shocking life-like figure in the
horrid mansion. Fontridge surrounded her from all angles, perhaps mocking in splendid
glory, the girl who had been thrown into the deep end, with no hope of floundering her
way to safety. She was among enemies, and strange circumstances, as well as certain
figures from past adventures. This was her life, such a splendid adventure, that soon
would end, and she would be sure of it this time.
Sarah broke her catatonic state and glanced down at the torn and bloodied
bandages about her wrists. Gabrielle had grabbed her in attempts to sustain the hysterical
Sarah, and had succeeded in nearly ripping the gauze from her arm. It would not have
mattered, even if the very stitched had been torn out, for Sarah felt nothing, she had been
numb.
Her lips moved to mouth some words, or perhaps even a sentence, but nothing
could be heard. Of course, there was no one in the grand room, that would perhaps be
called a living room in more quaint situations. She could have proclaimed at the top of her
voice, that she planned on taking her life that night, and still none would be any the wiser.
She was safe, and that made her plan much more terrifying. If she did it now, there would
be no one to save her.
Sarah's heart fluttered in fear, though she knew what had to be done. She could
not live a life in constant terror and anxiety, that simply was not possible. With a deep
breath she at last placed the cup and saucer atop a near by table.
With a shrug of her shoulders, the blanket toppled to the sofa she had sat upon.
Then, struggling only slightly with the lack of feeling in her legs, rose to her feet. Sarah
shook out the cramps that had come during her frozen state, remaining perfectly still.
That was never pleasant. The feeling of blood flowing back into her legs made her nearly
fall back to the comfortable love seat, but she continued on towards the hall that would
eventually lead to her bedroom.
She had tried everything, had even ignored the mysterious disappearing woman
and the deserted room. Sarah could easily convince herself that the entire event had been
an illusion, brought on by her state of mind, but the fire had been the final shock that had
broken what little bit of a grip she had had on sanity, or whatever control she held over
her life. This was where it would end.
Outside the moon had already risen, which surprised her momentarily. It had been
early in the afternoon when she had entered the theatre to try to rehearse. However,
Sarah had no clue as to how long she had remained seated in the sofa, as people (namely
Gabrielle and even Peter) scurried around to make her comfortable and calm her down.
Night could have easily fallen as she remained alone, with only her horrid thoughts for
company.
She paused briefly on course to the hallway, averted by the tinkling sound of a
piano playing in some distant room. Sarah perked her ears in attentive admiration and
then allowed a ghost of a smile to pass over her features. The piano had always been her
favorite instrument, such a lovely thing to hear. Whomever now played was remarkable at
doing so.
Sarah nearly continued on, but stopped once again and glanced towards the area
from which she believed the sound emanated. It was at least worth seeing who had such
talent in music. Sarah sighed and then started the entire different direction, not worried
about becoming lost in the least, for there was the music to follow.
She pushed open a rather large and heavy door and stared down the dimly lit
corridor. It was strangely different from others in that way, the lack of illumination.
Actually, Sarah glanced at the walls and realized in shock that they were made of stone,
almost like those of the castle at the center of the Labyrinth.
The door shut behind her, and Sarah suddenly realized that, as she looked at the
different walls, she had entered into the eerie passage. She shivered as a case of nerves
stole over her determined soul, that had resurfaced for the time being. It was strange to
think that she had planned on killing herself only a short time ago. Sarah trembled again at
the thought and took a single step into the hallway.
"Sarah, does this seem unreal to you? Why don't you learn after all you've faced?
Doesn't this seem like another dream?" her subconscious mind questioned knowingly.
She stopped in midstride and looked at the flickering orange gleams that lit the
way. A realization stole over her mind as she looked at the dancing flames, mounted atop
a wooden shaft, that rested in an iron case. This walkway had been illuminated using
torches entirely , and no modern lights. Perhaps her mind had been correct in the
assumption that this was yet another dream, and that her waking body rested in the 'living
room', asleep.
However, the sweet sound of the piano drove her ever onward, almost as if the
notes moved her feet instead of her own muscles. If it had not been for her roused
curiosity, Sarah might have found herself rather unnerved at the lack of control she had
over the entire situation. It reminded her, but only briefly, of The Phantom of the Opera,
another of her all time favorites.
She gazed down at herself, almost half expecting to see some extravagant form of
clothing now adorning her body. Yet, she was met with the normal apparition of her
dingy gray sweats, the same in which she had awakened . Perhaps her original idea of a
dream had been a bit hasty, for surely she would have changed her attire to meet the
mysterious pianist.
Sarah turned her attention back to the music and listened closely, trying to
decipher where to head, and which room held the secret of the piano and its player. Sarah
carefully pressed an ear to each passing door, as the sound grew stronger and closer with
every passing step. She would hold her breath and listen attentively, anxious to her the
resonating sound of keys and notes hanging in space for a short time, only to drift away
into oblivion.
However, time and again she was met with disappointment. Each room held
nothing save perhaps old furniture and dust. Of course, Sarah seriously doubted that any
inch of Fontridge had so much as a single grain of grime. She had seen no flaw in its
perfection, except the strange destroyed and abandoned room that Peter had seemed so
determined to keep locked away from everyone.
"This is pointless," Sarah exclaimed, under a heavy sigh.
She leaned against the cold stone wall, almost feeling like the young teen who had
entered into a seemingly unsolvable labyrinth years ago. It was the same in either
direction, if one did not know the correct way to look. Sarah glanced at the door across
from her, same as the others. Another oddity in the hall, everything was surprisingly
uniform and devoid of the lavish art that adorned the rest of the mansion.
Now the music sounded as if it came from all around her. It had to be close, but
she could not even begin to imagine where it was. She had believed that she had found it
several minutes earlier, and still was not any closer to discovering the hidden secret.
With a heavy heart, and heavier steps, she reached out to the door across from her.
Sarah's last bit of hope rested with this final passageway. She hesitated briefly, her
fingertips only slightly touching the smooth surface of the polished knob. Then, assuring
herself that this would be quite the same as all the others, she turned the knob and swung
open the wide oak door.
At once she was bathed in a washing glare of orange candlelight. From every
angle rested a serene white candle, wax lazily dripping down to rest on the crystalline
coasters below each and every one. Wherever she looked, Sarah could see the dancing
flames, almost hypnotic in their motion, and sweeping across her was the piano music,
now forming into a familiar tune.
The figure sitting behind the instrument, moved with the music, accentuating his
fluid grace in every bob and sway. He wore a dark cloak, to hide any familiar appearances
that Sarah might notice. She, however, found it all too enticing to leave, and ventured
into the room, losing her inhibitions as the scent of hundreds of candles cloaked her
senses.
She twisted about, adoring the scenery, the orange luminess of the flames and
medieval quality to the music. She could easily imagine a time when fairies really were
prevalent upon the earth, and princes rode off to fight dragons for the hand of the lovely
maiden, or perhaps even a princess.
She only vaguely sensed the figure behind the piano raise to his feet, the cloak
drifting in a black shadow-like appearance. Still the lovely music continued, and she
began to dance, and cease her half-hearted movements for those of a fluid waltz. The
dark figure moved near her, he too taking up the dance, and soon he grasped her hand in
his.
At once Sarah felt part of the whole, as the stranger led her into movements that
flowed like silk, and as intoxicating as any liquor that could be concocted. He spun her
about, easily keeping the beat, and soon Sarah felt herself only concerned with the song
and her mysterious dance partner.
Then, startling her only briefly, words accompanied the, since then, solo music.
"There's no living in my life anymore.
The seas have gone dry and the rain stopped falling.
Please don't you cry anymore.
Can't you see?
Listen to the breeze, whisper to me please
Don't send me to the path of nevermore!
Even the valleys below
Where the rays of sun were so warm and tender
Now haven't anything to grow
Can't you see?
Why did you have to leave me?
Why did you deceive me?
You send me to the path of nevermore!
When you say you didn't love me anymore!"
The man stopped his song and jerked back the hood that had hidden his face so
well. Sarah looked at him with a mild drugged expression. Although, the moment her
slowed mind finally registered who this was that had danced with her, and had sung for
her, she pulled away, in a replay from the crystal ballroom years earlier.
Sarah found herself moving differently, as if her weight had shifted. She looked
down once again and found that, in place of her sweats, was now a magnificent crimson
ballgown. It scooped down low in the front, to a bodice that was embroidered with rubies
and crystalline dust, which shone magnificently in the candlelight. At her hips, the fitted
bodice ended, allowing layers of flared skirts to sweep down to the floor, covering her feet
and even trailing a bit on the stone ground. Her hair was done up in a miraculous network
of spirals and curls, and all fastened with a single red clip, adorned much the same as the
dress. About her neck was a choker, this white, the only other color she now wore.
Sarah looked in horror towards her enemy, Jareth, who smiled almost humanely.
He offered her his gloved hand once again, but she flinched away from him and lunged out
for the door. However, she was met with only wall, and the discovery that there was no
escape while Jareth did not wish it so. Sarah spun around, anger raging in her eyes, and
reflecting the crimson shade of the dress. Even her cheeks flushed and her lips, also now
covered in bright lipstick, formed into a frown.
"Nevermore, Nevermore, Nevermore....," the voice faded, though Jareth never did
move his lips to utter the words.
He threw down the cloak, revealing his remarkable form, resplendent in a flowing
poet shirt, the matching shade of Sarah's gown, and a leather vest, black in contrast. His
pants were also black, blending into the boots. His feral eyes, changeling eyes, observed
her slyly and then he managed to approach her, but only a single step.
"Let me out of this dream!" Sarah demanded, not allowing Jareth to come any
closer than he was.
Jareth cocked his head at her statement and then smirked a bit at what she did not
know. He dared another step, and once again Sarah retreated. She was not willing to be
near him again, not after that lovely dance, and the almost real dream. Pity it had been
only that, a figment of Sarah's imagination. Oh, but what an imagination!
"What leads you to believe this all a dream? Does my presence signify fantasy
only?" Jareth taunted, now crossing his arms over the black leather vest.
Sarah nearly hissed at his questions to answer her own inquiries. He did that
constantly. She would have struck out at him, had it not been for the strange, growing
urge to leap into his arms. She shook her head and continued to back away from his
advances. Yet, it was growing achingly obvious that soon there would be nowhere for her
to go.
"Jareth, I am not dull! I can easily see this dress and the changing room as obvious
factors in a dream. Why must you torment me?" she asked, now taking a step towards the
Goblin King instead of backing away.
Jareth paused briefly to think over her questions. Sarah was intelligent, but simply
closed off to all the possibilities of life. After all, he had come to her before out of dreams,
when Toby had been taken and several times in the Labyrinth.
"My magic is not limited to parlor tricks, my dear. The formation of a dress, or
adding candles and music to your pointless life is not difficult for a Fae king," Jareth
replied.
"Why!" She asked, her eyes pleading with him to explain why, of all the young
women in the world, he had chosen her life into which he would make his presence
known.
With that he reached out again and took her chin into his hand. The coarse touch
of the black leather glove was everything she hated, the last memory of him and his cruel
ways while she traversed the perilous labyrinth. Sarah yearned to pull away, but knew that
it was not the time yet to be defiant. She could sense an answer, after so very long
wondering the reason for his appearing to her time and again.
"That heart, that soul, your imagination, your spirit. I loved them all for a time,
and they grew as you did, and I watched from my castle. Don't be so dense to believe
that finding the book was chance, and uttering the words, Toby being taken.... don't you
see? It was done all for you, to show you your dreams in form of the Underground. And
you cast it away, losing everything that separated you from all else," Jareth stopped, his
eyes burning into hers in their two distinct shades.
A single silver tear trickled from her eye and traveled down her cheek. Jareth
reached out tenderly and brushed it aside. Even that touch sent shivers down her spine. It
was true that, even though she had been but fourteen when first driven into the
Underground, at the first sight of this handsome king, Sarah had felt a tingling attraction,
almost electric. Now, she was not sure if she could feel anything anymore, save sorrow
and pain.
Jareth removed his hand from her face and turned her arms over. A pain, deep and
nearly hidden, formed in his eyes as he looked at the bloodied bandages. He then turned
his gaze back to the young girl, begging for an explanation as to why she should choose
such a fate as suicide. However, Sarah could not answer.
"I returned for what was left, though I fear nothing remains in that empty shell.
Where have you traveled Sarah, and where do you hide? I cannot see it any longer, and
my crystals are all blank, only showing me darkness. You have taken that light and
doused it repeatedly, hoping to dwell in soothing darkness," he spoke so very close to her
face, his breath brushing against her ear and driving her almost mad with passion.
"Please, no," she begged, and leaned against him as sobs overtook her control she
had once had on her emotions.
Jareth enveloped the young woman in his arms, holding her in a magical embrace.
She felt safe, finally, for once in so many years. She could smile and truly be happy, not
just continue with the act after the play was over and done.
He touched her chin once again and guided her blurred gaze up to his. Jareth
looked down at her and, without a moment of hesitation moved in to cover her lips with
his own. In an instant the kisses deepened and he wrapped his arms about her, drawing
her nearer still. Sarah's hands found their way to his mane of golden hair, adoring its
silken texture.
His lips traced a path of fire down her neck, and to her collarbone, pausing only
slightly above the swell of her breasts, that heaved with each struggled breath she took.
The dress became far too tight, too heavy, she yearned to be free of the constricting
restraints of the material. She wanted to be with him, and only him forever.
His lips brushed like a breeze across her cheek and paused. Jareth's breath drew in
deeply and then swept across her ear, leaving her emotionally helpless and utterly under
his mystical control. A barely audible moan escaped from her mouth, more of a feral urge
that he cease the tormenting way in which he now treated her, and continue on, as he had
done earlier.
"Perhaps, there is something hidden behind those blank eyes, that destroyed
imagination. What is it you long for, my dear? What is it that is enclosed deep in your
soul, your most powerful desire? I can give you dreams that are so dark, you yourself
have yet to fully admit to them," Jareth whispered, touching her ear momentarily with his
tongue.
Sarah rolled her head back and uttered the same strange sound she had made a
moment before. She could find no words that would possibly bring her feelings into an
understandable reality. She literally burned with desires that ravaged across her entire
body, as if she were merely an evolutionary fall into the realms of wild cats. Sarah could
do nothing but think of him, and wonder, (somewhere far off, where this strange spell had
not cast its ludicrous light), where her true self had gone for refuge.
Jareth reached behind her trembling body, drawing his mouth so close to hers that
it took all her diminished will power not to kiss him, demanding that sweet passion to flow
forth, covering her entirely. With hands as lithe as a cat, he carefully unfastened the ruby
buttons that held this massive dress, clinging to her voluptuous figure. She felt the
material slide, slinking submissively to the floor, as if it too had fallen prey to Jareth's
seductive nature.
He guided her gently, as if acting like a gentleman in such a situation as this,
towards the bed cloaked in black silk. That was truly a contradiction if ever there was
one. Jareth, a gentleman, while he seduced her, a mortal by far his minor. Sarah was just
an innocent, naive girl, though her age would speak differently, as would her body's
needs.
"Twenty-four, and this is the first experience of lust such as this. Why Sarah, why
wait so long to feel these hands caress your skin? Why? Surely there have been others
who have pondered your cold nature as they slept, hurt and yearning for something that
only I can offer," she thought to herself as Jareth watched her sit upon the silken
bedspread.
He bent down, leaning her back so that she laid down, upon the mattress. Jareth
bent over her and stared into her eyes, dark orbits accentuated with chestnut highlights.
Oh, but they were so uniform in color with only the candle light illuminating the room.
She seemed to look out through pupils entirely, crowned with lush eyelashes, half closed
now in a mature, alluring expression.
He plunged forward, guiding her dress down further, though still allowing it to
separate their bodies. His lips tasted hers, but only for a moment before he backed up
once more and stared down at her shivering body.
"Surely there is one dream that you wish could be yours. We all have our hidden
aspects of ourselves, Sarah, and you're no different. Fantasies do not lie, and what was
played in your mind only last night was your own desire breaking through. Speak but one
word, and I will know that you wish to be saved from this mundane existence that is
slowly killing you," Jareth begged. However, deep inside his ambiguous words, she could
see the same meaning as was in his final plea when they two faced, so many years before.
The world whirled around before Sarah's eyes. Her mind nearly collapsed, leaving
her deaf and dumb, and entirely helpless with this monster prepared to pounce on her
vulnerable body. She looked around, seeing holes in the illusion. The bed, so soft and
delicate, was nothing, save a cast-away antique, battered beyond repair. The candles
faltered and showed the true darkness from every angle. Only Jareth did not change, for
he was the magic creating this grand charade.
She flung her arms about wildly, pushing at Jareth's weight to allow her freedom.
With one mighty surge of strength, Sarah found herself sitting, and Jareth across the room,
cold fire dancing in his Fae eyes. He had not fallen, but merely leapt aside as she had
fought back. It was easy to say, that Jareth had not expected such determination in a
woman whom he believed to be but a shell of her former self.
"Goblin King, your tricks will not work here. Leave me be, and abandon my
dreams and those hopes of 'rescuing me', as you so kindly put it. I will not be had in this
way by you. There is never truth in your words, nor love!" Sarah replied, her tones dead
with drained emotions and broken feelings.
Jareth approached her one final time, his eyes taking in the dangerously low dress,
which had sneaked down while she made her stubborn statement. Sarah quickly remedied
the situation, and pulled the garment back to her shoulders. Jareth's gaze averted to her
eyes, menacing and cold.
"I could have taken you entirely at that moment, Sarah, and you would have not
fought, only begged for more. Such a strong heart, unique soul, is so lost through pains of
adult life, and adult needs," Jareth whispered. He noted the broken look that plastered to
Sarah's face, and smiled.
Sarah narrowed her eyes, angered that what he had said had been so very true.
She would have allowed him to take her greatest, most protected treasure, and never
regretted until he flitted away to yet another woman who caught his interest. She wiped a
hand across her mouth, still feeling the touch of his warm lips against her own.
"I would never....," Sarah was beyond words, and disgusted to the point of nausea
when she thought about her actions, her animal behavior, "I wish only that I could banish
you from my life, using magic against..."
Jareth at once erupted into a wild bout of laughter. His eyes lit dangerously, and
Sarah could not help but feel threatened. She clutched the material tighter in her whitened
hands and backed against the bed as Jareth quieted. However, he produced a single
perfect crystal and set it gently upon the wooden floor.
"As you wish, Sarah," Jareth responded and then glanced at her casually, before
taking a single step back. With that he faded into a uniform orange glow, matching that of
the fading candles.
Sarah covered her face with her trembling hands, angered to a point of no return,
and unable to vent it upon the man whom had caused the emotion in the first place.
However, she could not remain that way forever, and soon forced herself to look about
the room. She found only the same sparse furniture that had been in the others, and not
even the piano remained.
Still, upon the ground rested a single crystalline orb, seemingly innocent and pure
in the room. It shone with a faint white hue, that seemed, if Sarah was not mistaken, to be
growing ever brighter with each passing heartbeat. She moved for the door, but found it
not there once again. Sarah turned her widened eyes back to the crystal, only to see that
the glow had grown to an intensity that was nearly painful.
Sarah shielded her eyes against the whiteness and tried to find some form of
escape. Yet, all she managed was to stumble about, groping for something in her blind
state, eyes firmly closed against the powerful light. She rapped her knee fiercely against
some odd piece of furniture and sunk to the ground, at once becoming bathed in the
growing illumination.
Sarah curled into a protective ball, terrified and unable to move even to save her
life. So she merely hid, her face buried in the layers of the red dress she still wore, and
silken tears slowly slipping from her cheek to shatter upon the countless sequins sewn to
the gown.
All Sarah could do was rest, and hope that Jareth had not sent the crystal to
destroy her, and with her his finest competition.
