Skipped the Lady to the Master's Gate
Written by A Lady Grinning
Author's note: My next update may not be for a while ::tears:: but I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Interesting occurences in store, and constructive criticism always taken graciously!
Chapter 6
Sarah slapped herself.
The stinging sensation caused by her action of disbelief was commonplace, undistorted by the peach's haze. But this did not convince her.
Sarah ran to the window. It looked out onto the suburban houses that it always had. That is, prior to when it looked out upon her Labyrinth. So, she was back.
And she was disappointed.
Sarah heard a knock on her closed door.
"Sarah, are you home?"
It was her father's voice.
Sarah whirled around to find the time, but where her 13-hour clock had once been there now was a blank space. And her room was without a clock. Damn.
"Yes," she replied, her voice hoarse.
"Yes," she quietly told herself. "I'm home."
When her father did not respond, Sarah figured that it had to be around midnight--that had been the time that they would be back, hadn't it?
"Sarah?"
She was taken aback; Hoggle did not belong in this room of hers.
While Sarah's impulse was to respond, she held herself back, and searched the room for him. He was not under the bed, nor outside her window, nor, she acknowledged with interest, was he in his place as a bookend.
Sarah sighed, and dropped down in the chair before her vanity. Must be wishful thinking . . .
There was Hoggle, behind her bed.
Her head snapped around, but she realized that he only existed within the mirror's reflection.
"Hoggle?" Sarah whispered enthusiastically, peering into her mirror. "What are you doing here?"
Hoggle looked bashfully down at his hands and said, "Well, just wanted to congratulate ya, Sarah, even though you shoulda won before."
Sarah beamed and forgot that she was back home, where people in other rooms might hear her. "Thanks, Hoggle."
"And, uh, should you need us . . . "
"I know, Hoggle. I think I will."
Hoggle looked a bit surprised.
"Well, alright, then, Sarah. I'll let you go, then. But don't leave us hanging for too long. I'll, uh," Hoggle looked down again. "I'll miss you, Sarah."
In the moment of his disappearance, Sarah felt a pang; she might miss him even more.
Sarah looked down at the surface of her vanity in a moment of loneliness. She then looked about her room. Her obsession with children's stories suddenly was so mundane and desperate. Who did she think she was, a fairy tale princess? Like the one in the music box Mommy gave her?
Sarah had always been Mommy's princess. She had been told that every day. Every time Mommy came back from a tour or an audition, she'd have a new doll or adornment for her. "A subject," she'd said, handing her Ludo. "For your realm of magic."
As her eyes crossed over her vanity once more, Sarah thought almost regretfully of the magician King who would have been a perfect asset to her fantasyland.
But he was gone, and there was a corresponding blank space on her vanity.
Sarah gasped. Where was the doll? Eyes widened, pulse quickened, Sarah wondered if that was all that was gone. It had not, after all been the only thing that had appeared that day.
Sarah searched the top of the vanity and its drawers for the object
The script--her "Labyrinth"--was gone, as well.
Sarah collapsed on the floor and buried her face in her hands; he had taken her most cherished items from her.
"Damn that Jareth," Sarah murmured to herself. "Those were the last things that Mommy gave me . . . "
But were they?, a small voice asked.
Sarah's eyes shot open.
She could remember the day her mother left like it was still happening. And when she had first woken up, when the house was uncannily silent, her vanity had been empty.
Sarah knew, for her confused face had been reflected fully back at her on that morning, as she had jumped out of her bed.
"But how did they get there, then?" Sarah whispered into her hands.
The answer came back all too quickly in a stance, a smirk, a flapping of white wings at her window.
Jareth gave them to her. He had wanted her to be his eldest client.
Sarah lunged at her window and threw it open.
"You--bastard!" she called to the owl, uncaring that the clock tower confirmed that it was now after midnight. "You take away the first gifts you ever gave me . . . "
Her voice broke.
"And the only things I can remember you by," Sarah blurted, as she crumpled to the floor.
Her body was wracked with silent sobs.
"I hate you . . . "
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The door slammed.
"Sarah? Is that you?"
Sarah rolled her eyes and leaned carelessly against the stair railing. "Yes, Karen. It's me."
Karen looked murderously from her bedroom at the end of the first set of stairs.
"Not only are you late again, but your school called today . . . "
Sarah averted her stepmother's gaze and blocked out the torrent of admonishing words; it wasn't as if Sarah didn't know what she had been doing. She didn't need it to be spit back at her.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"
"This is serious, Sarah!" her father said, emerging from the dining room, meeting his wife's eyes. "Why haven't you been in school all week?"
Sarah paused and considered. Why hadn't she been at school?
"Well?" Karen prodded.
Sarah looked at her stepmother's glare, her father's look of stupid concern. How could they ever understand? How could anyone?
"Sarah, please, we don't know what to do with you."
"Then LEAVE ME ALONE!"
The emptiness of her room was hardly solace. Sarah could hear Karen's muffled threats of hiring a psychologist and her father's petty rationalizations. Let them do what they wanted. It wouldn't solve anything.
Sarah looked hopelessly around her room. It was awful. There were reminders everywhere.
She couldn't even look at herself. She was wearing the shirt and jeans she had worn when . . .
And closing her eyes was worst of all. For all she saw was him.
"Why, Jareth?!
"Why did you give me so much? Why did you teach me so much?
"And why the HELL," Sarah practically screamed through her clenched teeth. "Did you make an entire world for me and not let me keep it?! That doesn't even make any sense!"
She waited a moment, then fell to the floor in defeat. "It's not fair."
"Sarah."
Her body sprung up.
"I think you should owe me something for every time you say that repulsive phrase."
And, suddenly, she was looking the King of Dreams in the face.
Sarah stumbled back and fell into a very hard, cold chair. She realized that it was the Goblin King's throne.
Jareth lunged forward and leaned against the back of the throne, his arms on either side of Sarah. She was shocked to see that he looked even more exhausted than he did during their first "final" confrontation. His face was lined, and his white blouse hung loosely from his chest, as if he didn't care enough to look presentable.
Sarah wondered when the last time he'd changed clothes was . . .
Jareth looked at Sarah for a long moment, his eyes searching her face for an answer. Then, he pushed himself away, and covered his face with a gloved hand.
"Why did you ask me to take you back?"
Sarah opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, realizing something.
"I didn't."
The King looked at her in dismay. Sarah looked back, just as helpless. He wouldn't send her back, would he?
Fortunately, Jareth seemed unsure of what to do with even himself. He wandered towards the large, circular window at the left side of the room and perched at it, looking out upon his creation. Their creation.
Slowly, cautiously, Sarah rose from the throne.
"Jareth . . .? Why did you give me the doll? And the play?"
Her opponent smiled to himself, but would not look at Sarah.
"Sarah . . . I cannot even presume how much you are aware of anymore."
A sigh. "I am the King of Dreams, Sarah." He turned to face her, an almost pained look upon his face. "I know more about human desires than one ever should be allowed to. Your dreams . . . intrigued me."
Jareth paused, waiting for Sarah to interject, perhaps, but she said nothing.
So he continued. "Especially as you grew older. When your mother left you, I was . . . " Jareth struggled. "Concerned, I suppose. So, I wrote you "The Labyrinth" to preoccupy you. And, as I had written myself into the story, I gave you the doll to give a face to the Goblin King, I suppose. And, yes, Sarah. My physical features are my own in your world. I believe you are the only one of my clients to ever see me as I truly appear."
"How lucky," Sarah softly murmured, unsure of what she meant by it.
The two were quiet for a moment, each contemplating what had been said.
Sarah looked up at Jareth. He had never looked so old, or so tired. It was almost frightening to see him this way.
Abruptly, the King dropped from the window. In this action, he suddenly was wearing glossy black armor with his tattered cape, and he seemed younger once more. He began to cross to the other end of the throne room, straightening a glove, then paused, and looked at Sarah. She looked back at him, surprised yet bemused. Jareth was the same as he had always been, and this was comforting, if nothing else.
Jareth cocked his head and smirked. "I don't know what to do with you Sarah, and, frankly, I hardly care at the moment. I have many other dreams to see to that I have abandoned for too long.
"While I am away, I sincerely hope you enjoy your world. I spent too much time on it for it all to go to waste. And--"
Jareth paused, and stepped towards Sarah.
"Something bothering you?" Sarah asked, trying to keep herself from smiling and attacking all at once.
The King rose a gloved hand, brushed Sarah's hair from her face, then rested his hand on her cheek.
"Jareth . . . " Sarah warned.
He grinned, grabbed her hand, and put a crystal in it.
"Sweet dreams, love."
He turned into an owl and flew out the window.
Written by A Lady Grinning
Author's note: My next update may not be for a while ::tears:: but I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Interesting occurences in store, and constructive criticism always taken graciously!
Chapter 6
Sarah slapped herself.
The stinging sensation caused by her action of disbelief was commonplace, undistorted by the peach's haze. But this did not convince her.
Sarah ran to the window. It looked out onto the suburban houses that it always had. That is, prior to when it looked out upon her Labyrinth. So, she was back.
And she was disappointed.
Sarah heard a knock on her closed door.
"Sarah, are you home?"
It was her father's voice.
Sarah whirled around to find the time, but where her 13-hour clock had once been there now was a blank space. And her room was without a clock. Damn.
"Yes," she replied, her voice hoarse.
"Yes," she quietly told herself. "I'm home."
When her father did not respond, Sarah figured that it had to be around midnight--that had been the time that they would be back, hadn't it?
"Sarah?"
She was taken aback; Hoggle did not belong in this room of hers.
While Sarah's impulse was to respond, she held herself back, and searched the room for him. He was not under the bed, nor outside her window, nor, she acknowledged with interest, was he in his place as a bookend.
Sarah sighed, and dropped down in the chair before her vanity. Must be wishful thinking . . .
There was Hoggle, behind her bed.
Her head snapped around, but she realized that he only existed within the mirror's reflection.
"Hoggle?" Sarah whispered enthusiastically, peering into her mirror. "What are you doing here?"
Hoggle looked bashfully down at his hands and said, "Well, just wanted to congratulate ya, Sarah, even though you shoulda won before."
Sarah beamed and forgot that she was back home, where people in other rooms might hear her. "Thanks, Hoggle."
"And, uh, should you need us . . . "
"I know, Hoggle. I think I will."
Hoggle looked a bit surprised.
"Well, alright, then, Sarah. I'll let you go, then. But don't leave us hanging for too long. I'll, uh," Hoggle looked down again. "I'll miss you, Sarah."
In the moment of his disappearance, Sarah felt a pang; she might miss him even more.
Sarah looked down at the surface of her vanity in a moment of loneliness. She then looked about her room. Her obsession with children's stories suddenly was so mundane and desperate. Who did she think she was, a fairy tale princess? Like the one in the music box Mommy gave her?
Sarah had always been Mommy's princess. She had been told that every day. Every time Mommy came back from a tour or an audition, she'd have a new doll or adornment for her. "A subject," she'd said, handing her Ludo. "For your realm of magic."
As her eyes crossed over her vanity once more, Sarah thought almost regretfully of the magician King who would have been a perfect asset to her fantasyland.
But he was gone, and there was a corresponding blank space on her vanity.
Sarah gasped. Where was the doll? Eyes widened, pulse quickened, Sarah wondered if that was all that was gone. It had not, after all been the only thing that had appeared that day.
Sarah searched the top of the vanity and its drawers for the object
The script--her "Labyrinth"--was gone, as well.
Sarah collapsed on the floor and buried her face in her hands; he had taken her most cherished items from her.
"Damn that Jareth," Sarah murmured to herself. "Those were the last things that Mommy gave me . . . "
But were they?, a small voice asked.
Sarah's eyes shot open.
She could remember the day her mother left like it was still happening. And when she had first woken up, when the house was uncannily silent, her vanity had been empty.
Sarah knew, for her confused face had been reflected fully back at her on that morning, as she had jumped out of her bed.
"But how did they get there, then?" Sarah whispered into her hands.
The answer came back all too quickly in a stance, a smirk, a flapping of white wings at her window.
Jareth gave them to her. He had wanted her to be his eldest client.
Sarah lunged at her window and threw it open.
"You--bastard!" she called to the owl, uncaring that the clock tower confirmed that it was now after midnight. "You take away the first gifts you ever gave me . . . "
Her voice broke.
"And the only things I can remember you by," Sarah blurted, as she crumpled to the floor.
Her body was wracked with silent sobs.
"I hate you . . . "
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The door slammed.
"Sarah? Is that you?"
Sarah rolled her eyes and leaned carelessly against the stair railing. "Yes, Karen. It's me."
Karen looked murderously from her bedroom at the end of the first set of stairs.
"Not only are you late again, but your school called today . . . "
Sarah averted her stepmother's gaze and blocked out the torrent of admonishing words; it wasn't as if Sarah didn't know what she had been doing. She didn't need it to be spit back at her.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"
"This is serious, Sarah!" her father said, emerging from the dining room, meeting his wife's eyes. "Why haven't you been in school all week?"
Sarah paused and considered. Why hadn't she been at school?
"Well?" Karen prodded.
Sarah looked at her stepmother's glare, her father's look of stupid concern. How could they ever understand? How could anyone?
"Sarah, please, we don't know what to do with you."
"Then LEAVE ME ALONE!"
The emptiness of her room was hardly solace. Sarah could hear Karen's muffled threats of hiring a psychologist and her father's petty rationalizations. Let them do what they wanted. It wouldn't solve anything.
Sarah looked hopelessly around her room. It was awful. There were reminders everywhere.
She couldn't even look at herself. She was wearing the shirt and jeans she had worn when . . .
And closing her eyes was worst of all. For all she saw was him.
"Why, Jareth?!
"Why did you give me so much? Why did you teach me so much?
"And why the HELL," Sarah practically screamed through her clenched teeth. "Did you make an entire world for me and not let me keep it?! That doesn't even make any sense!"
She waited a moment, then fell to the floor in defeat. "It's not fair."
"Sarah."
Her body sprung up.
"I think you should owe me something for every time you say that repulsive phrase."
And, suddenly, she was looking the King of Dreams in the face.
Sarah stumbled back and fell into a very hard, cold chair. She realized that it was the Goblin King's throne.
Jareth lunged forward and leaned against the back of the throne, his arms on either side of Sarah. She was shocked to see that he looked even more exhausted than he did during their first "final" confrontation. His face was lined, and his white blouse hung loosely from his chest, as if he didn't care enough to look presentable.
Sarah wondered when the last time he'd changed clothes was . . .
Jareth looked at Sarah for a long moment, his eyes searching her face for an answer. Then, he pushed himself away, and covered his face with a gloved hand.
"Why did you ask me to take you back?"
Sarah opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, realizing something.
"I didn't."
The King looked at her in dismay. Sarah looked back, just as helpless. He wouldn't send her back, would he?
Fortunately, Jareth seemed unsure of what to do with even himself. He wandered towards the large, circular window at the left side of the room and perched at it, looking out upon his creation. Their creation.
Slowly, cautiously, Sarah rose from the throne.
"Jareth . . .? Why did you give me the doll? And the play?"
Her opponent smiled to himself, but would not look at Sarah.
"Sarah . . . I cannot even presume how much you are aware of anymore."
A sigh. "I am the King of Dreams, Sarah." He turned to face her, an almost pained look upon his face. "I know more about human desires than one ever should be allowed to. Your dreams . . . intrigued me."
Jareth paused, waiting for Sarah to interject, perhaps, but she said nothing.
So he continued. "Especially as you grew older. When your mother left you, I was . . . " Jareth struggled. "Concerned, I suppose. So, I wrote you "The Labyrinth" to preoccupy you. And, as I had written myself into the story, I gave you the doll to give a face to the Goblin King, I suppose. And, yes, Sarah. My physical features are my own in your world. I believe you are the only one of my clients to ever see me as I truly appear."
"How lucky," Sarah softly murmured, unsure of what she meant by it.
The two were quiet for a moment, each contemplating what had been said.
Sarah looked up at Jareth. He had never looked so old, or so tired. It was almost frightening to see him this way.
Abruptly, the King dropped from the window. In this action, he suddenly was wearing glossy black armor with his tattered cape, and he seemed younger once more. He began to cross to the other end of the throne room, straightening a glove, then paused, and looked at Sarah. She looked back at him, surprised yet bemused. Jareth was the same as he had always been, and this was comforting, if nothing else.
Jareth cocked his head and smirked. "I don't know what to do with you Sarah, and, frankly, I hardly care at the moment. I have many other dreams to see to that I have abandoned for too long.
"While I am away, I sincerely hope you enjoy your world. I spent too much time on it for it all to go to waste. And--"
Jareth paused, and stepped towards Sarah.
"Something bothering you?" Sarah asked, trying to keep herself from smiling and attacking all at once.
The King rose a gloved hand, brushed Sarah's hair from her face, then rested his hand on her cheek.
"Jareth . . . " Sarah warned.
He grinned, grabbed her hand, and put a crystal in it.
"Sweet dreams, love."
He turned into an owl and flew out the window.