A/N: Your reviews have been awesome. I thank you one and all. I know this story has gotten very dark, and I've been crying myself while I wrote most of it. I apologize for any tears I may have caused to any of you. The story seems to have progressed from a lesson about the strength we keep buried inside, to one concerning the ways in which we touch lives without even knowing it. I'm glad some of you have found it inspirational. Anyway, without further ado, Chapter the Seventh.

Disclaimer: The vast majority of these characters are not mine, although I'm willing to take them as donations.

Jareth stared blankly at the lifeless crystal in his hands. In the silence of his chambers, in the familiar perch in his window overlooking the labyrinth, he tried to grasp the reality of what had just occurred. His Sarah was gone, taken away in the blink of an eye. The crystal that had projected him into her final moments in this plane of existence was now cold and dark. There was nothing left of her. He had lived for thousands of years, been witness to the lives and deaths of countless mortals. The flames of their lives sparked and faded in his changeless existence like fireflies on a warm summer night. How was it that the loss of this one flame could affect him so?

He knew the answer to that, there was no sense trying to rationalize, though he tried anyway. He told himself that it would have happened eventually, that although he could have extended her life far past her usual life span, eventually her mortality would have caught up with her, and he would have lost her anyway. This thought brought little comfort to the Goblin King. He would have lost her, true, but the time before would have been sweet, and filled with joy. There would have been laughter in his kingdom, and brightness. The sound of his children playing would have filled the barren corridors of his castle, and she would have lived on in them. Most importantly, there would have been countless memories of love and happiness to hold on to.

Now there was nothing, only the void in his heart where all of those things should have been. She was no ordinary mortal, no matter how much he tried to distance himself. Nothing else in his endless existence had ever moved his heart the way that she had. No fire had ever burned brighter. He feared that without her there would be nothing left for him but darkness.

Jareth stood and walked towards the door. The darkened orb in his hand was as cold and useless as he felt, and he absently let it slip from his fingers and fall to the floor. It shattered into bits on contact with the cold stone, and he found this appropriate, and painfully pleasant. If only he could cease to exist as easily, he would join Sarah in the Summerlands beyond the borders of this plane. But that was out of the question. He had no heir to take over his kingdom, and without a ruler this realm would be as lost as Sarah's. The magics would take over and grow of their own volition, causing mayhem and destruction until finally strangling themselves out of existence. He could never allow that to happen, no matter the price he must pay.

He would not pay alone. Oh no, there was another that would suffer, if not for eternity then for as long as Jareth had power to maintain his worthless life. Jareth would see to it that Richard faced justice for the years he tormented his daughters, and for taking Sarah away from him. He would know fully well the consequences of his actions, and he would beg for mercy a thousand times over. It was not in Jareth's nature to be cruel, but Sarah's father would soon learn the very meaning of the word cruelty.

There was another task he must see to first, although he dreaded it with every fiber of his being. He left his own chambers and took the few heavy steps required to reach the room where Sarah had been laid, to heal or die as fate required. He opened the door and saw that the room had been dimmed, and someone had lit incense and candles. Hoggle, most likely, for it was dwarven tradition to burn candles and sage at the deathbed to help the spirit find its way to the next world. As expected, he found Hoggle at Sarah's bedside, his head bent low, whether in prayer or defeat Jareth didn't know.

Sarah's other friends from her journey were also there to pay tribute to their fallen heroine. The small and brave Sir Didymus stood crestfallen, his hat in his hand, while the large and gentle Ludo sobbed shamelessly in a far corner of the room. On the other side of the large bed, in the chair she had not left in many hours, was Sarah's stepmother. Her eyes were red and swollen, both from tears and lack of sleep. Jareth knew she was blaming herself, and that her heart was full of regrets. He took pity on her. She was a good woman, and she didn't deserve the pain she was feeling.

In her lap was tiny Maya, the beautiful child for whom Sarah had sacrificed everything. Jareth swore to himself, and to Sarah, that he would protect this child with every ounce of strength he had. Looking at her was like looking at Sarah at that age, and it made his heart ache, yet he could not look away. She was too young to understand what was happening and must have had a thousand questions, but to her credit she seemed to know that now was not the time to ask them. She merely sat quietly, her stony eyes shimmering in the candlelight.

Beside them was Toby. My, what a fine lad he had grown into. This must be especially painful for him, Jareth knew. He had not had the same experiences with his father that Sarah and Maya shared. Until last night, he had thought his life perfectly normal. Now his world was shattered and crumbling around him. Jareth could relate. He would have to take a special interest in the boy, or he knew his fragile young mind might never recover from this days events.

There were others in the room, servants, healers, a few of his subjects whom Sarah had touched in her short life in some way, and who had come to pay respects. Everyone turned to look at him as he moved through the door, their eyes dazed and expectant. Some of them bowed as he entered, still others saluted. He looked at each of them, silently acknowledging their respect, and then his eyes moved to the bed.

There she lay, as beautiful in death as she had ever been in life. Her skin was pale, her lips a ghostly pale pink tinged with blue. He moved to her side and sat on the edge of the bed. He took one slender hand in his own, shocked at the coldness of it. Without taking his eyes from her face he said "I'd like to be alone." At first no one moved, but it was Didymus who finally spoke. "Of course, sire, as you wish." he said, and began to usher the mourners out of the room. Jareth silently blessed the little creature.

As Karen stood from her chair to leave, Jareth caught her arm. Tearing is eyes away from Sarah's still form he looked up at her. "I've had a room prepared for you and the children," he said gently. "Have one of the guards take you there, and tell them to bring you some food. You must all be hungry and exhausted."

Karen smiled sadly. They had spoken briefly, in the chaos following Sarah's injury. She had been given the "quick version" of Sarah's trek through the labyrinth, as well as Jareth's identity. It had been a lot to take in, but she had coped well and Jareth was pleased. "I am tired," she conceded, "but I hate to leave her." Her eyes wandered to the face of the girl she had never really known.

"You were here when it mattered." Jareth reassured her, but she only smiled bitterly. "I only wish that were true." She turned to leave him but he stopped her once again.

"We have much to discuss," he said, bowing his head, "and plans to make. I will come to you in the morning, if that's alright?"

She touched his face gently; her fingers lifted his chin until he was looking into her eyes. "You've done so much for us, Jareth." she breathed. Then she turned, taking the children by the hand. "I'll be waiting for you in the morning." she called over her shoulder, and then Jareth was alone, free to let his emotions show through the kingly exterior.

His eyes fell to the body of his beloved. He had seen death in all its forms, and yet had never felt the sting of it. When his own parents had passed into the next plane, it had been after living an immeasurable span of time, and they had gone together. There had been no sadness in it, it had just seemed natural. There was nothing natural about this, however. There had been so much left for her in this world, too many things had been cut short.

He began to run his fingers through her hair, across the smooth skin of her cheek. She was so cold. The fire that had burned in her was gone, and all that was left was this achingly beautiful empty shell. He gathered her up in his arms and held her, tears flowing now, wishing beyond hope that he could somehow bring her back to him. All of this power, and yet he couldn't save the one he loved. It was so unfair! He smiled bitterly at the memories this thought evoked in him. Oh, what cruel irony that much of the time they had had together, he had been playing the villain.

Suddenly the pain was too much. He felt it burning in his stomach and in his chest. It rose gradually until it felt as though it would rip him apart. He through his head back and a moan came unbidden from his lips. The moan grew louder and louder, fueled by the rage and greif of a powerful immortal being. It shook the castle to its very foundations. It was heard throughout the castle and even into the Goblin City, and all who heard it bowed their heads in sorrow, lit a candle, and said a said a prayer for their beloved King, and for the love that he had lost.