Rites of Passage by Betty Bokor
Jareth/Sarah. When Sarah is called to save the King, her life takes a whole new course, again.
Spoilers: The movie, the book, and some of the Return series.
Disclaimer: The Labyrinth original characters belong to The Jim Henson Company and Lucasfilms Ltd. This was written strictly for the purpose of entertainment. No attempt at copyright infringement has been made.
A.N. Sarah and the King have a night out and some things start to change.
As to what song he played for her, I had not thought of any, but, after many asked, I looked for something that could work there. I chose Blind for You, from the Dutch group Di-Rect. It's not exactly what I had in mind, but it kind of fits.
Rites of Passage
Chapter 8
Sarah walked back to their table feeling concerned. She remembered the King being inclined to dramatic displays of emotion, but everything he had said had sounded honest, heartfelt. She could see that he felt troubled by the war and the effects it had on his family and his people. But there was nothing she could do, except, perhaps, offer him some kind of comfort. She could not think of anything specific just then.
And, besides, she had to figure out what was going on with her mother.
She reached the table and noticed that Linda and Jeremy were gone. "Where's mom?" She asked.
"She was a little insdisposed, dear, and Jeremy took her home. You can call her tomorrow to check how she's doing," her father answered.
Sarah nodded, even more worried.
She had just sat down, when Karen smiled brightly and said, "You wouldn't guess what a great idea Terry's had, Sarah."
She looked at Terry expecting an answer, but Karen continued.
"He thought maybe your friend Jareth would feel better if he could do his thing, play some music, you know? So he called the theatre to make sure it was open. The orchestra has rehearsals tonight and they don't mind if we all go by and let him play something."
Sarah looked at Terry with disbelief. The whole idea sounded contrived and she guessed he was still trying to prove there was something wrong about her new friend. "I don't know if that would really help," she tried. "He's very tired and he's just had another dose of a very strong medicine, so-"
"I wouldn't mind at all. In fact, it would be a pleasure to contribute to this celebration my own way," the King interrupted with a broad smile as he sat back in his place.
Everybody cheered and half an hour later they were on their way to the theatre.
Sarah wanted to use the drive to talk to Jareth, but Terry asked to go with them to avoid taking a taxi. Jareth drove again and kept quiet all the way to their destination. Terry talked non-stop and Sarah kept her replies to a polite minimum.
Once they were inside the theatre, Terry guided the group towards the orchestra rehearsal.
After all the necessary introductions were over, Jareth looked at his rival and asked in a loud voice, "So, my friend, what instrument do you think I should play for Sarah tonight?"
Terry was surprised by the question. His face showed that he was clueless as to what to answer. "Whatever you want. You're the musician, man; I'm just an actor," he said with clearly feigned modesty.
"Well, then," Jareth looked around, "maybe a bit of cello would be fun…" he said as he stretched his hand in a pleading gesture toward the cellist.
The young man handed him the large instrument and Jareth sat down to get it into position, while everybody looked expectantly. Sarah was stunned. After having met many of the members of the orchestra, she knew how protective of their instruments they were.
Jareth took his gloves off, put them in one of his pockets, and, once ready, he looked at the gentleman sitting at the piano and said, "Bach Sonata No. 3, Adagio."
The pianist scrambled to find the right score and then signaled he was ready.
Sarah was panicking. Did he really know how to play or was he going to find an excuse before starting? And, if he played, how well would he do it? She thought she was up for the longest six minutes and twenty seconds of her life.
Soon she had completely forgotten about her fears and relaxed enjoying the music.
Jareth –with his eyes closed– played beautifully; Sarah could not remember anyone ever having played that piece like him.
That thought made her smile. Maybe she was a little biased… but looking around she discovered everybody was spellbound. Even the janitors who had been cleaning the back of the stage had stopped to pay attention.
She closed her eyes and listened to him. She could have tried guessing how he knew that was one of her favorite pieces, but there was no point. It could even be a coincidence.
When he finished playing, he looked for the first time at his audience. Everyone in the room was applauding effusively. He bowed his head slightly with a small smile in his lips, then handed the cello back to its owner, and walked around looking at the other instruments. "One more?" he asked.
The group cheered the idea.
"What about this one?" He grabbed a saxophone that was on a chair and looked at it. Without waiting for agreement, he put the instrument to his mouth. He closed his eyes and reclined his head and torso slightly backwards, as if getting ready to play, only to straighten suddenly and look at Sarah.
"I didn't think so," Terry whispered loud enough for everybody to hear.
"You know, Sarah?" Completely ignoring the comment, Jareth talked to her in a tone that hinted at confidence. "The first alto saxophone my mother gave me was a real Adolphe Sax's one…" He slightly raised the instrument he held in his hands, "these are far easier to play," he finished with a wide smile and immediately began to play.
Sarah panicked again. Why would he say that in front of the others? Then, she realized that what he had said could be interpreted as his mother having given him an antique, a rare instrument, not one recently crafted by its creator.
She decided to enjoy the song; she had recognized it as soon as it had begun. It was another one of her favorites, the main theme for "Last Tango in Paris", by Gato Barbieri. Jareth played it in a more languorous way, with a sadness she had never heard in it. It would be hard to listen to the song again without comparing it to his version.
When it was over, while his audience applauded feverously again, he put the sax back in its chair and turned to look at Terry. "What do you think, my friend? Have we honoured Sarah enough?" he asked him.
Terry nodded. "Sure, sure," he replied, sounding defeated.
"Well, I don't agree," Jareth countered with a smile. He looked at Sarah and added, "One last song to celebrate your achievements, precious, and I promise to take you home. Perhaps your friends here don't realize you had a long day at work today and you need your rest."
Nobody among her family and friends missed the "precious" inserted mid-sentence, but Sarah did, since she had become used to his pet name.
Karen smiled, feeling her optimism justified. Maybe there was hope for her stepdaughter; maybe she might marry some day.
Robert was not too happy, but decided to let it go, at least for that night.
Terry was furious.
Sarah had no chance to reply to the King. He walked toward the piano and the pianist immediately gave him his seat. She expected to hear another one of her favorite songs, but whatever Jareth began vigorously playing was nothing she knew. She felt compelled to approach him and, once she was standing by the piano, her eyes rested on his hands and refused to look away. His long pale fingers mesmerized her as they slid with ease over the keys, especially since that night had been the first time she had ever seen his hands without gloves. Now that she was so close to him, she could not stop looking at them.
When he started singing, she made an effort and concentrated on the lyrics. She realized –as she remembered something she learned in school– that the song was written in second person point of view, where the author talks directly –in first person– to someone else. Somehow she felt Jareth was talking to her.
The lyrics talked about the loneliness, sadness, and pain the writer felt because the woman he loved had left him. He felt responsible for his failure to hold on to her; he blamed himself because he could not change who he was. He admitted to having too many expectations of her and acknowledged that, as he was distracted imagining their future together, he had been blind to her real feelings… But since she meant so much to him, he would not misuse another opportunity.
It was very powerful and, though now the orchestra was playing with the King, Sarah could not pay attention to that. Somewhere halfway down the song, Jareth had raised his head, looked at the musicians facing him, made a small nod, and the whole ensemble had begun playing with him as if they had known the score the whole time. But she was still captivated by his hands deftly moving over the keys and she was fighting the long suppressed memories his words brought back, especially those of one final confrontation.
Just before the last stanza, during an instrumental passage, Sarah looked at him and suddenly realized that, while she was watching him play, he had been looking at her all along. She closed her eyes and listened to the last verses, feeling lightheaded and overcome by conflicting emotions.
The conclusion of the song brought another round of applause and soon everyone was up, getting ready to end such a nice evening together. Sarah thanked everyone and said goodbye to all, before getting back in the car with Jareth. This time, she was the one who kept quiet all the way home and he respected her silence.
When they reached the building, one of the janitors was standing close to the entrance with a flashlight in his hand.
"Good evening, Miss Williams," he told Sarah as he saw her.
"What's going on, John?"
"We have no power, Miss Williams. The lady from 3A had a little electrical fire. We took care of the fire, but the electric company cut off the power until they figure out where the problem came from."
Sarah did not get much more from the janitor and, cold and upset, decided to start the six-floor climb to her apartment; Jareth followed her. They had not walked more than a few meters toward the stairwell, when, from the corner of her eye, she saw a soft shine and realized he had a crystal in his hands. A second later, they were in her living-room.
"I have to admit; you're useful sometimes," she said, in better spirits, as she walked to the kitchen to look for candles. "But, remember, you can't give us power; it would be too obvious," she added as she searched her kitchen drawers. "I'll get you extra blankets and-" She stopped when she realized there was no answer from the living-room. She lighted a candle and went in search of her guest. She saw a soft glow coming from the main bedroom. "Are you there?" she asked although she knew the answer.
"Come in, Sarah; everything is ready."
She walked into the bedroom and looked around. The fireplace was burning and the bed seemed to have several new –lush– blankets.
"Excuse me?" she said.
"I said the room is ready. This is the only fireplace in the house, and, consequently, this is the only habitable room tonight. Your bed is large enough for both of us and I hope, by now, you already trust me so as to share it with me. Otherwise, I'll leave you in here and go sleep in the living-room."
She could not immediately answer. Too many things happening all at once. She opened her mouth to reply, but he interrupted her.
"We're both adults now, Sarah. Do you trust me?"
There was something in his voice that seemed to command her. And she did trust him… now… Lately, at least. "Okay, fine. I'll change and I'll be back."
He smirked and got in bed.
A few minutes later, she was lying by his side. Or forty centimeters away from him…
"Are you warm enough?" he asked.
"Getting there. My room was freezing."
"I thought so… Here," he made a gesture with his hand and a new blanket appeared on top of the others.
In the dim light coming from the fireplace, she seemed to recognize it. She took a hand from under the covers and touched the light material. "It's your cloak! I remember it, the one with feathers!" she exclaimed.
He smiled. "It's very warm; you'll see," he said softly.
She took a deep breath. Another thing to remind her of that day. She felt guilty about many things related to those events and she was not ready to revisit them with him yet. She decided to steer their conversation in a different direction. Besides, her body was having all kinds of welcoming reactions to her proximity to the King. She needed a distraction.
"Thanks for being game today; my family and friends are a little overwhelming sometimes."
He laughed sympathetically. "You've met mine… They're all the same."
"Yeah, but at least your parents are still together, not like mine. I always have a hard time when we all meet and Karen and Jeremy are part of it. Don't get me wrong; they're good people. I just wish it all was like before."
"My mother is my father's third wife," he said with a hint of amusement.
"The third?" she asked surprised. "Seriously?"
"Yes. His first wife, Keelin, Gaultier's mother, was his… How do you say? Sweetheart? They grew up together; they were friends for the longest time. When my father was chosen High King he decided he needed an heir and Keelin was his first choice for his mate. When she got pregnant, they were married and everybody was happy, but she died at childbirth. Fae have great difficulty with childbearing. That's why children are so important to us. There aren't as many as we wish."
"I'm sorry…" Sarah started before something he had said stood up. "Wait. They got married after she got pregnant? Didn't that get them in trouble like four thousand years ago?"
"The ability to bear children is essential for a king's wife. He'd never be allowed to marry a woman who hasn't proven she's capable of giving him a child. Once a princess is pregnant, she earns the right to ask the king to marry her. It's still a big gamble for him. She may not carry the child to term."
"That's so cold!"
"It's necessary."
"So what? The king chooses a girl and she doesn't get pregnant, then she has to go? She's done? How long does she have? Who would want her if the king rejected her?" Sarah asked with indignation.
"Sarah, here you have double standards for men and women. We don't. If a man has many girlfriends, you call him a player, but if it's a woman with more than one boyfriend, she's promiscuous. For us, there's nothing wrong with a woman who failed to give the king a child. Sometimes it's all a matter of chemistry. Many women I know who didn't work for a king, went on to have children with other fae and have happy normal lives."
She sighed. "It's hard to imagine… Do you have any children?" she asked, suddenly feeling curious about the women in his castle.
"No," he replied with sadness.
"But you have tried, right?"
"Yes, many times."
"So, you're not married either, are you?"
"No."
She felt somehow relieved. That was what the women were doing at the castle, but they had all failed. "I'm sorry," she tried.
He sighed.
"How long do you get to try for a pregnancy?"
"Six months at the most."
"What happens if you fall in love with one of the candidates?"
"I have not."
"But, what would happen if you did?"
"As a king, I have a duty. Love wouldn't change anything."
"That's sad."
"I agree, but I have so many privileges, I can't try escaping my obligations."
She sighed. "I understand. So, who was your father's second wife?"
"Shanti, Pradosh's mother. She was a princess from the eastern kingdoms."
"What happened to her?"
"She was poisoned."
"Why!"
"There was a lady in my father's court who wanted to be queen and thought that getting rid of Shanti would give her the chance."
"Did she?"
"No; she's still rotting in the dungeons."
Sarah shivered involuntarily and he noticed. "Are you still cold?"
"Yeah, a little," she excused herself.
"Come closer," he asked, but she did not move. "Trust me, Sarah; I'd never hurt you."
He extended his arm toward her and she relented. She slid a bit closer and he used his arm to bring her flush against him.
"Snuggle up; it helps. My body is somewhat warmer than yours." He laughed gently. "I like that word, snuggle; it hints of future wonders."
"What?" She felt alarmed; her body was already going haywire so close to him. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing… Just calm yourself. Lay your head on my chest." She did not obey. "Sarah, I'm trying to help. Just lay your head here."
"I'm fine."
"Sarah…"
The warning in his voice brought back a flood of memories from the Labyrinth. Distraction, distraction; she needed to return to their talk. She laid her head on his side and crossed her arm over his chest.
It did feel better. He was warm and hard and soft all in the right places. She laughed a little.
"What?"
"Just going over our talk. And I thought my family was complicated…"
"Mine has been around for a lot longer."
"Yeah; that must have helped… And how did your mother get her chance?" she asked.
"My father didn't marry again for a long time –I don't think he was planning to– but when he was visiting the northern kingdoms, he met a queen who had lost her husband and her only child in the Frontier Wars with the Unseelie, a long time before, and had abdicated the throne to her nephew to dedicate herself to helping her people."
"That's where you got your ideas, eh?"
"Some… She's been a great example."
"So, why did they marry? He already had two heirs."
"She's his soul mate," he simply replied, as if it were a self-evident truth.
"What do you mean?"
"We, fae, believe that there is one individual, in the whole world, who is destined to be with each of us. Not many find the right person in their lifetimes; most settle for someone they like. But when you find your soul mate, you know it. It's an extraordinary sensation and it leaves no space for doubt."
"You do believe that?"
"Absolutely."
She felt suddenly scared. "And have you found your soul mate?"
He took a deep breath. "I have," he said gently.
She felt cold and shivery. In response to her physical reaction, he snuggled up closer and tightened his embrace.
"Do you need me to get you something warm to drink?"
"No, I'm fine. Don't worry. Just a long day."
"Let's leave this conversation for another day. You need to sleep."
"Not yet," she panicked. She needed to know. "I'm not really sleepy."
"Alright."
"Then, tell me. If you found her, why aren't you with your soul mate? She can't give you children?" she dared.
He was not sure as to how to answer without lying to her. And he did not lie; he twisted, exaggerated, or curtailed the truth, but he did not lie. "That's not exactly how I'd put it. It's complicated."
"Did you try making it work?"
"Very briefly. It was a failed attempt… My fault. She wasn't ready." He sighed. "I'm not an easy guy."
"Aren't you going to try again?" she asked with dread in her heart.
He sighed deeply. "No. I'm at war; I have nothing to offer. I may not be alive in a couple of days."
"Don't say that!" She was feeling a very unsettling mix of relief and fear.
"It's the truth… And you need to go to sleep. I promise to keep you warm until the morning. Just close your eyes and let everything go."
She suddenly felt really tired. "Okay. Good night."
"Good night, precious," he whispered and he leaned toward her and softly kissed her on the lips.
