Jareth went to change after that, his shirt useless, torn beyond recognition. Sarah also went to her room--to rest, on Jareth's orders. Something had changed, though. Him ordering her to do something would have rankled her normally, but Sarah didn't feel even a twinge of annoyance. Something between them had changed.
No, I've changed, Sarah realized, staring at herself in the vanity mirror. I'm not as... angry as I was. Seeing Jareth trying to protect me like that... he really must lo-- She cut the thought off by grabbing a brush from the vanity and trying to straighten her unkempt hair in a flurry of motion. Once she was sure the thought was safely chased away, she put the brush down and sighed. I'll have to be nicer. I ought to try to at least be his friend. Sarah did not feel the same tired resignation she had felt before when she thought of trying to befriend Jareth. Instead, she felt a whisper of a thrill, positively charmed by the idea of trying to become friends with Jareth. He was obviously much more than a baby-napper and a liar. Given time, Sarah was truly curious what she could find out about his personality. "I can't rest," Sarah muttered absently, pushing herself off of the huge, plush bed. She felt more alive than she had for such a long time.
The last time I felt like this, Sarah thought, walking slowly over to her huge vanity table--so much larger than her own flimsy vanity at home--and sitting down, was when I was facing Jareth in his Escher room. I wonder if M.C. Escher was inspired by Jareth, or if Jareth was inspired by Escher? Of course he'd seen the print in my room before, if he's watched me as long as he says he has... but did the print inspire him to create that room for me, or did that room exist years ago, and Escher just picked up on it somehow? Sarah reached down absently for a brush and began to gently pull it through her hair--which was ruffled, wind-blown, and sweat-tangled from the fight with the Aljunnu. She sat in a thoughtless silence for several minutes, relaxing and just brushing her hair, concentrating on straightening the long dark locks. Eventually, she put the brush down, satisfied that she looked much more normal, and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
I don't look like me, was her first startled thought. Then, as she squinted and tilted her head, she saw her own face peering out--but definitely changed. There was a new shine in her eyes, one she'd never seen before. She looked... alive. Much more alive than she ever had before.
"If I could avoid getting clawed, I'd almost think it was a good experience to see an Aljunnu every day," Sarah murmured softly to her reflection, joking because she knew it wasn't the Aljunnu that had put this glimmer in her eyes.
Sarah stood, turning away from the girl in the mirror who looked like a much-older version of herself, and walked to the door of her room. She touched the door gently with her fingertips, speaking to it softly.
"I'd like to see Jareth." She tried the handle, and it turned easily, but the door remained firmly shut, as if it were melded into the wall. "Now, don't do that. I know he said I had to rest--I heard him. But I'd rather spend some time with him." When the door still did not open, Sarah spoke to it cajolingly. She'd only ever used that voice before when Merlin was in a particular temper and was refusing to cooperate with her, and she had to convince him that she knew best, and had never hurt him before, and wouldn't he much rather come to the park while she recited than stay in the house, pouting on the sofa cushions? She tilted her head to one side as she spoke, giving the door a reproachful stare. "I am not at all tired. I feel more alive and awake than I have ever. Now, look, I want to see Jareth. I want to talk to him, spend time with him. I thought that was the point in bringing me here. Now, please, let me out so that I can go to him."
This time, the door opened easily, but when she stepped out, there was only a blank wall before her--no corridor leading to either side, or doors that might lead to a hallway and a staircase.
"Now stop that. I doubt Jareth is sitting around thinking how nice it is to be rid of me for awhile. I want to go to him." Slowly, a tiny archway appeared before her. A very tiny archway. Sarah had to crouch to get through, shuffling her feet. "You're being mean," she scolded once she'd gotten through, but headed down the hall before her. A spiral staircase led down at the end of the hall, and she followed it, stepping right into the middle of the throne room.
"Oh," Sarah said, startled. She disliked when the castle plopped her into the middle of a room without giving her a doorway to walk through--it was disorienting.
"Hey!" a goblin shouted at the sight of her, grabbing for a stick. "It's the girl with the baby!"
"Idiot," Jareth snarled, rising from his throne. "That's been four days past." The goblin subsided, casting doubtful, mistrusting glances at Sarah, twiddling the stick in his stumpy hands. Jareth sighed heavily, shaking his head, and stepped over to Sarah. He laid a gloved hand on her arm gently, a little hesitantly.
"My door was being stubborn," Sarah said in lieu of a greeting.
"As are you," Jareth replied, arching his brows. "I thought I told you to rest."
"You did," Sarah answered, smiling. "I didn't feel like it."
"Hmm," Jareth rumbled softly, his hand still resting on her shoulder. "The door had been told to keep you in there. I'm a bit surprised you got out at all."
"Nothing's impossible for me," Sarah said, giving a nonchalant little shrug. Jareth removed his hand, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I'm beginning to see that," he responded dryly, but Sarah recognized a gleam in his eyes that gave away his amusement.
"I wanted to spend some time with you," Sarah said firmly, giving his shirtsleeve a tug. "I wanted to talk with you, learn more about you. Can we go to your garden?"
Jareth glanced around the throne room, as if trying to decide if he were needed. Seeing the goblins were entranced in their own little pleasures, he offered Sarah his crooked arm. Smiling, she tucked her hand into the bend of his elbow, fingertips feeling his pulse in the soft skin of his inner elbow through the thin white poet's shirt. Jareth's eyebrows raised again, obviously disarmed by her willingness to have physical contact with him besides resting her fingertips on his elbow, then smiled faintly, his face relaxing.
The walk was pleasantly quiet, locked in a companionable silence broken only by the soft 'tup-tup' of Sarah's loafers and the firmer 'tak-tak' of Jareth's boot heels on the stone floor, giving Sarah a chance to sneak sidelong glances at Jareth as they walked.
I hadn't noticed that he isn't that much taller than I am, she thought, sneaking a peek by pretending to toss her hair back over her shoulder. He's just so scowlingly fierce usually... it makes him look taller than he really is. And I never noticed that he's beautiful before. I've seen the frightening beauty, but this new beauty is definitely an improvement. He looks approachable right now. His face is more relaxed than I can ever remember seeing it before... usually he looks sardonic or mean. Right now, he just looks... thoughtful... like a younger man in a coffee house, sipping some specialty coffee and reading poetry.
I usually notice his clothes and not him. He's always so dramatic. Long capes, tall boots, ruffles and silver. I never noticed how... nice he looks. Not like boys I see at home, gangly or bulky. He reminds me of... of a ballet dancer. Honed and... and... well, handsome. He has very beautiful legs. Sarah laughed softly to herself, scolding herself mentally. Imagine, thinking someone has beautiful legs, of all things.
"Something funny?" Jareth asked softly, glancing over at her. She shook her head, stifling a grin. When he turned away, she peeked at him again.
And he has such beautiful eyes. Not just the colors--although they are very wonderful--but the shape. And his eyebrows. And his nose. Sarah frowned, cutting her babbling thoughts off. You sound like an infatuated groupie at a concert. Cut it out, for goodness sake.
"Sarah?" His voice was soft, and Sarah glanced up. He was watching her curiously, his brows arched again. "We're here."
"Oh. Hey, yeah, we are." Sarah snatched her hand back, suddenly worried he'd detect what she'd been thinking. She blinked a few times, trying to glance quickly around, trying to absorb the riotous colors of the garden so her eyes would stop smarting. She'd have done better to stare at the noon sun on a hot summer day and hope that her eyes would adjust to the light. She squinted, rubbing her eyes with balled fists, and felt a gentle hand touching her shoulder.
"Are you all right?"
"The colors," Sarah muttered, still squinting. "They're a little hard to take in, you know."
"Ah. I forgot. Your eyes are not yet used to the Underground."
"Oh, the rest of it doesn't bother me. It's just this one place. Everything else is sort of dulled, you know? It only bothers me here, in your garden, where the colors are just... more. They're like all the colors I'm used to back home, but more than the colors I'm used to." Sarah paused, biting her lip. "Did that make sense?"
"A little," Jareth smirked, walking slowly past her. "You said you wanted to talk?"
"Oh, yeah." Sarah trotted after him quickly, and when she caught up, she walked beside him thoughtfully, not touching him. She didn't feel right taking his arm when she had come out to the garden with ulterior motives. "Why don't we go sit under a fruit tree?"
"Any preferences?" Jareth asked, gesturing at the many different trees before them.
"Anything but peaches," Sarah joked, shooting him a teasing smile. Jareth laughed then, an honest laugh. He tossed his head back, mouth opening wide, eyes crinkling at the corners.
Whoa, Sarah thought, her heart skipping. I'll have to be careful how often I make him do that. I've never seen him really laugh before... and he's... whoa.
"Fair enough," Jareth said once he'd finished his completely enchanting laugh. He led her across the sparkling emerald grass to a pear tree, leaning against the trunk comfortably. Sarah found it impossible to sit, and paced a short path before him, dragging her feet against the grass, hesitating.
Finally, after a long silence filled only with the soft swishing of Sarah's loafers against the grass, Jareth tilted his head back, golden hair shimmering against the darkness of the tree's trunk. "You wanted to talk, Sarah?"
"Why did you bring me here, Jareth?" It burst out of her before she could think of a way to make it tactful, and when it was said, it hung between them like a living creature.
"You asked me to," Jareth said, rich voice soft.
"No, really. Why did you do all that the day after I got back from the Labyrinth. The whole thing." Sarah gestured with her hands. "The window, the rain, the whole thing."
"I told you once I loved you. And I do. I have, for ever so long. Love can make a person do stupid things--like tricking the one they love into spending time with them. I will admit to tricking you by offering you what you wanted without first making you aware of the consequences. But, Sarah," and Jareth pushed himself off of the tree, moving over to cup her cheek in his gloved palm, "I did what I did because I loved you."
"I don't understand," Sarah whispered, staring up into his face. She was used to Jareth looking imposing, or angry, or sarcastic. The expression on his face as he looked down at her was not one she had ever seen before. It was... longing. Desperate longing, and a heart-wrenching pain that made her eyes water with unshed tears.
God, why is he looking at me like that? Like I'm the long-lost Princess in some faerytale, a princess that he's spent his entire life questing after?
"I love you because of what you are, Sarah. You are innocence, purity. You have a gentle heart, but you're brave. You are full of sweetness, but you can be hard when you have to." His hand shifted faintly on her face, the pad of his thumb stroking her cheek. "When I saw you for the first time, I thought I'd stumbled across a cherubin. I've wanted to possess things before, objects to amuse me, but I'd never wanted to be possessed before. As I watched you grow, I found myself wanting to belong to you. I'd never felt like that before, and it left me confused and angry." His voice was low, soothing, his thumb moving gently back and forth across her cheek. "I watched you from the shadows, watched you grow. You retained your innocence, and I felt myself drawn closer and closer as the years passed. I was like the night moth drawn inexplicably toward a shining light.
"I knew eventually you would call on me again, but the waiting was like a torture. I had to stand back and watch you go through life... through the pain and joys of your existence. I was there when you wept, standing in the shadows, wanting to comfort you. When you laughed, I laughed with you, even if you couldn't hear me. I celebrated your victories, and mourned your losses. And I waited, always I waited."
He drew his hand away then, letting it fall to his side. Sarah took a deep breath, as if she were rising above the surface of a dark lake, and gave her head a little shake. An errant tear slipped from her eyes, and she quickly swiped it away.
"Have you ever read Dante, Sarah?" He smiled as she nodded slowly. "I only ask to bring it to your mind--I have seen you reading Dante. He was a wonderful writer, for his time. He saw more than most humans ever see in their lives." Jareth paused, seeming to collect his thoughts. "I saw you lingering over his first sonnet in "The Inferno." It appealed to you, did it not? Let me refresh your memory." Jareth tilted his head back faintly, speaking the words in his softly cultured accent, one hand raised as if trying to pluck the words from the air.
"Love appeared to me so suddenly
That I still shudder at the memory.
Joyous Love seemed to me, the while he held
My heart within his hands, and in his arms
My lady lay asleep wrapped in a veil.
He woke her then and trembling and obedient
She ate that burning heart out of his hand."
Jareth paused, lowering his raised hand and sighing, as if the repetition had exhausted him. "That sonnet came into my mind the first time I saw you, Sarah. I felt as if Love had come upon me and plucked my heart from my chest, holding every emotion I could ever hope to have in his hands. And then, without a care for how I might react, Love gave my heart to you." He reached out, gently running his gloved fingers through her long hair. "He gave my heart to you."
Jareth plucked a pear from the tree at his back, tossing it to Sarah. She caught it, looked down at it without comprehension, then looked back up at Jareth.
"We've been out here long past lunch, Sarah. You should eat that to keep your strength." When Sarah looked down doubtfully at the fruit, Jareth added, "It isn't enchanted."
"Okay," Sarah said softly, her own voice foreign and hard in her ears. It sounded flat and dull after Jareth's melodic murmuring. She bit into the juicy fruit, cupping a hand under her chin to catch the juice.
"Sarah... I offered you an enchanted ball before. I would like to make the same offer... without the enchantments on you." Jareth smiled disarmingly. "Come to a ball with me tonight. No tricks. I would just like to dance, and let you be the princess you truly are."
Sarah hesitated, then slowly nodded. "Okay. Tonight."
"After the time for dinner has come and gone," Jareth agreed, bowing slightly. "I'll need to warn the castle, let it begin preparing itself, and help it to outfit itself. You can wander the garden, if you'd like, or visit Hoggle, or go to your room." Jareth raised his hand, touching his glove-encased fingers fleetingly to her cheek, then walked away, leaving her standing in the garden, a white spot on the rioting colors.