"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts."
—William Shakespeare, As You Like It
He wasn't used to this part of the Underground. The last time he set foot there was many centuries before, on the days following his coronation. As the new High King, he had to know the entirety of his realm, even the unpleasant parts. And this was the worst of them.
He didn't even know why his Ancestor chose residency here. The air was cold, freezing even, and he could see next to nothing. The smell of death was everywhere.
He thought of his great-grandmother, lovely and full of life, and wondered why she decided to remain by His side. She could have lived above ground, with her flowers and her dear mother. But she chose the darkness instead.
Love, he guessed. A weak, pathetic emotion. Something that brings the greatest joy or the greatest pain. In his case, it was pain. And it will forever be pain.
The gates of Hell were closed when he reached his destination. This didn't sit right by him. He was King. All gates of the Underground should open to him, even this one. He heard a growl on his left, but his face remained blank. Impassible.
"Let me pass, Cerberus. I am your King, as well as His. I am not one of your dead mortals."
His tone was imperious and left no place for argument. He was not in the mood for his great grandfather's games. He came for an answer, and he will leave with one.
"As my King commands." replied an other-wordly voice. The gates opened.
As he entered the Realm of the Dead, torches lit up. Their flames were blue and cold, giving him no sense of comfort. Yet, impassible he remained, not wanting to give life to his real emotions. A King shall not have any. At least that's what he has always been told. He was not sure of the wisdom of these words anymore.
As he walked toward the throne room, he observed his environment. He couldn't see them at first, but the path he was walking on was made of bright, colorful marigolds. They were the flowers of the dead, yet flowers were a representation of life. Life… even in Death. He couldn't suppress a small, sad smile. He shouldn't have underestimated his great grandmother's influence. Goddess of Spring she might have once been, Persephone was also the Queen of the Dead.
The walk was interminably long. He knew it was on purpose, this place was not supposed to be comfortable for living beings. He wondered if the dead see something else. Instead of a blue glow and the smell of death, maybe they see a lightful and colored place, with blooming trees and fairy lights. That should be a wonderful, comfortable sight. Or maybe they see what he sees now: death, and the inevitable truth of their mortality. Is it what she saw, in her last moments? Is it what she… What she…
He came to a stop. The pain was still too fresh, too strong. He couldn't breath normally, his chest hurt too much. He tried to find support against the wall, but soon enough he realized this was no normal wall. It was a mirror.
He looked at his own reflection, and shuddered. He looked like one of the ghosts who haunted the dark forest of his labyrinth. He was garbed in his black armor, the one with intricate patterns on his chest plate, and his crown adorned his head, yet he didn't look like a king. He looked like a defeated man. He was paler than usual, and his face was marked by deep dark circles. His hair was disheveled.
He doesn't sleep very well. He lays at night, staring at the ceiling. Questions forever unanswered, haunting him. How did it happen? Did she suffer? Was she alone? What were her last thoughts?
He was suffering and his kingdom was suffering with him. In his fury and grief, he had almost burned his castle to the ground, damn the consequences. He wanted to go to war with the Mortals, for daring to spill the blood of what was rightfully his.
He had tried to find her. When he felt the pang in his heart, he knew it was her. Their connection had always been special, even if they both always denied it. But when he got to where he had sensed her, Sarah, he found… nothing. There was a dead man in a crashed car, ambulances with dozens of healers, and blood, so much blood, on the road. He knew it was hers - he could always recognize her scent. And yet, she was not here.
She had vanished.
This is why today, after a whole week of torment, he decided to come here. He had to find answers. He had to know what happened to her. He didn't - couldn't dare hope she was still alive, but the uncertainty was killing him.
By what right does a mere mortal hurt a High King?
He didn't bother to knock on the door leading to the throne room. The smell of rot and decay was so heavy in the air it made him feel nauseated. His most basic instinct screamed at him to flee and never come back. But he knew he couldn't. At least not now.
Seated on the throne was his great grandfather, King Hades. The man - the god? - was smiling at him, but it was no sweet smile. His eyes had a mischievous glint, a trait Jareth and all his predecessors had inherited. But the resemblance stopped here. Hades's hair was longer than his, and as black as ebony. His eyes were the color of midnight. He was dressed elegantly yet very simply, in a loose dark tunic, as if he expected to receive the visit of a relative. He was an imposing figure, and Jareth almost wanted to bow to him. Almost.
"You know why I am here, Hades."
At that, his ancestor threw his head back and laughed. He sounded genuinely amused, and Jareth suddenly felt like he was a 200 years old teenage boy being made fun of. His eyes narrowed, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. The rumor said that the King of the Dead was half mad. That it's what eternity does to a man - even if this man is a god. He didn't want to know if there was any truth to that. Facing eternity alone was a painful prospect.
"And why would I know that, young King ?" he told him in a mocking voice.
Jareth had never wanted this much in his whole, long life to kill an old man.
"Don't play fool with me. You know I'm talking about my…" His what, exactly? She wasn't his lover. He had watched her over the years but he had never interacted with her. He had let her have her own life, thinking, maybe naively, that one day she would be his. So what was she to him? By what right should he demand the King of the Dead to grant him answers about a simple, mere mortal girl? "Champion. My labyrinth's champion. I have every right to know what happened to the only mortal, my sworn enemy, who has defeated it."
Hades laughed again.
"Sworn enemy, hmm?" he purred, as if knowing a secret. Jareth's face remained blank. "I might have answers for you. But how will you pay me, I wonder?"
Right. God or no, he would kill him.
"I don't have to pay you. I am the King, your King, you sworn obedience to me."
At that, the God in front him sighed heavily, as if the conversation was already boring him. Jareth wondered if it is what his subjects feel when he grows tired of them, and makes them know it. Perhaps he should reconsider the way he behaves with them. Perhaps.
"Everything comes with a price. You know the rules, my boy. I sure know them. I made them."
His eyes twitched. He hadn't been called "boy" in ages.
"You didn't make anything. Titania and Oberon did. That wasn't you." he replied, his voice full of venom. He had enough. He came for answers, not for a debate.
"And who do you think told them to do it, hmm, my boy?" he was condescending, obviously taking pleasure in his successor's building anger. It wasn't that he meant to actively be cruel. It was just his nature, as it was Jareth's. They were family, after all.
Jareth sighed. He didn't like giving up a fight, but he was so tired. He felt so young yet so old.
"I just need to know. Did she die ?"
He almost closed his eyes, bracing himself for the answer. But he didn't. He stared at his grandfather in the eyes. Hades's face was blank, unreadable.
"Yes."
He knew it, and yet that didn't stop his heart from breaking entirely. He had his answer.
He'll have to face eternity alone, without her. Without Sarah. In the end, she did beat him twice. For he was immortal and death was the true enemy of all humans.
"Can I…" his voice broke, just a little bit. He cleared his voice. He didn't want to appear weak - especially not in front of him. Not in front of anyone, really. "Can I see her, one last time ?"
At that, Hades looked almost sorry.
"I am afraid you are too late for that, my King."
Jareth simply nodded, and promptly left to nurse his broken heart.
.
After a while, a tall woman, with long auburn hair and beautiful blue eyes came and sat in her own throne, next to her husband's.
"Why didn't you tell him the entire truth?" she reprimanded him.
He laughed. "And where would the fun be in that?" she pinched his thigh, and he sighed. "If we are to have a mortal Queen, then he better understand how fragile their lives are. They are not toys he can play with, he's done that quite enough. I'm teaching him a hard lesson, but a lesson still."
The woman simply nodded.
"This Sarah… She will change things. I can feel it."
Her husband nodded in turn. He took her hand, and kissed it.
It was time for a change.
.
The smell of roses is what woke her up. It was everywhere, overwhelming her senses. She could feel the sun's warmth on her skin, which disconcerted her. She wasn't wearing her clothes.
She tried to move but her breath came to a stop. Never in her life had she felt such pain. It was as if all the bones in her body were broken. She muffled a sob, trying to be stronger than she really felt, and tried to remember what happened to her.
She remembered an owl and her mother's bracelet lying on the ground. She thought she could recall the distant sound of a horn… But then, nothing.
Panicked seized her. She didn't know where she was, she was wearing clothes that weren't her own, and she couldn't remember her previous night. And her parents! She was supposed to come home today! She had to find a phone, or anything, to let them know she would be very, very late.
But the pain she felt was too strong, she could barely open her eyes. A when she did, everything was blurred. She could guess the room she was in was bathing in a pink and orange light, which, she supposed, should be very pretty. But now that she was more awake, all she could feel and smell was roses. It almost irritated her throat. She coughed, though that hurt her even more.
She heard voices, and multiple footsteps, coming to her.
"Sarah !" told her a relieved voice. "You are awake - that's such a relief!"
It was Niamh. Was she at Niamh's place? She didn't recall that scent, and she was almost sure her room had never been pink. Where were they?
"Niamh…" she tried to speak, but her voice croaked. She coughed all the more, and soon enough she felt hands aiding her, giving her water to drink. It appeased her throat. She mumbled a 'thank you', but she still couldn't clearly see who was helping her.
"Hush, Sarah, you had a serious accident. You need to rest after what you've been through." An accident. A car, maybe?
Niamh was very close to her now, taking her hands and squeezing it in a gentle gesture. Sarah squinted… Was it her imagination or…
"Niamh, why are your ears pointy?"
Her friend simply laughed, and ignored her, humming something to herself.
"Oh my… What the… Is that wings I'm seeing?" Sarah extracted herself from Niamh's embrace, her vision now almost clear. She wasn't dreaming. Niamh had pointy ears and a pair of wings. What the fuck. What the fuck was going on. She could feel a cold sweat breaking out on her back. She shivered, and that didn't have anything to do with the pain.
And so she did the least reasonable thing she could have done: she ran.
She didn't go too far. She had overestimated her legs. She was injured, after all, even if the rush of adrenaline made her forget. And so she found herself flatten on the ground, in a very non-flattering posture. But even if she hadn't been injured, she would recognize later that running would still have been a bad decision. What could legs do in front of literal wings?
She heard a man behind her sigh, visibly exasperated.
"We don't have time for this, Niamh. We need to bring her to Lady Aoif."
Sarah turned - still very much on the ground - to assess the man who just spoke. He was tall and lean, and had short dark hair. His eyes were the same color as Niamh, and she wondered if they were perhaps of the same family.
"Can anyone please tell what the heck is going on?" she demanded, feeling very angry, and very embarrassed by the position she was in. She couldn't get up and they didn't make a single move to help her.
Niamh and the stranger simply ignored her, though Niamh finally came to her help. She helped her rise, and Sarah winced and cursed, and helped her back in her bed.
"Lady Aoif can wait, Bran. She is generous. And Sarah needs rest, she can't even walk." The man, Bran, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. He didn't spare her a glance. "Make her sleep, then. I'll call the healer to speed the recovery." And on that, he left.
Sarah had a nervous laugh.
"What did he mean by "make her sleep?"" When only silence answered her, she watched suspiciously at her friend, who was looking at her in a very sorry manner.
"Don't be mad when you wake up, please."
"Niamh - !" was all she managed to say before she felt her eyes closing again, and oblivion took her.
.
Days and weeks passed, and Sarah was in a daze. Most of the time, she didn't understand what was happening. She suspected they magically drugged her, to prevent her from moving and asking questions. She could see doctors, or at least what they called "healers" - little ugly things who didn't look human enough, moving in and out of her room everyday, giving her potions to drink and applying mysterious ointment on her body. Sometimes, she could hear Niamh in her room, chatting, though anything she said didn't make sense. And other times, she could sense a feminine presence next to her, singing to her in a soft voice. Sarah felt safe with her.
She didn't know how much time had passed, and it worried her. Surely, she must have gone missing, and the police were probably looking for her. But she knew, deep in her bones, that she no longer was in her world. She was… Somewhere else.
One day, one of the healers she saw the most had declared her completely healed. She should have felt relieved, but somehow, it worried her even more. She was now completely on her own.
And so she decided it was time for her to get up and have her answers. She realized that what she was wearing was, in fact, a long dusty pink dress, with transparent sleeves and with grey flower patterns on the bodice. It made her feel like some kind of princess.
She then completely assessed her room. She hadn't imagined the golden rose glow: it was everywhere, as if there was never a cloud or rain. The room was simply decorated, yet she could sense the elegance of the place. And she better understood where the smell of roses came from: there were dozens of bouquets in the room. The patio door even directly led to a private garden, also full of roses. When she realized it was open, she decided to step through it. The air was cool, as if it was a lovely spring day.
It was… Wonderful. She felt like she was 15 again, with dreams of princesses and fairy tales. She was amazed. She was scared.
She continued her walk through the garden. There were so many flowers she couldn't recognize. Her step-mother, Karen, had loved roses. She would absolutely love this place.
Karen… Toby, her father, and her mother. She felt guilt seize her. They were probably dead worried about her, and here she was, taking a stroll in a fantasy garden. She would have to leave soon, after properly thanking her saviors. And exchanging a word or two with Niamh.
The only thing she was certain of, is that he wasn't here. She didn't know why, but she knew that if he was the one who had saved her, he would have gloated about it on the first occasion. But if she wasn't in his realm, then where was she?
It was ridiculous. She was too old for these fantasies. But yet…
She suddenly heard a beautiful song, coming from what she guessed was the center of the garden. It was the same song the mysterious woman had sung for her when she was recovering from her injuries. She hurried her steps, wanting to see for herself who this was.
She came to a small fountain, with a beautiful woman sitting on its edge. She was a vision of dreams. A cascade of chestnut hair fell to the navel of her chest, and her eyes were the color of the ocean. Like Niamh, she had pointy ears - though she didn't have wings, and it seemed like her skin almost glowed. She was dressed in a similar fashion as Sarah. She didn't have trouble guessing it was the woman Bran had talked about weeks before - Lady Aoif. Feeling suddenly very shy in front of such beauty, she turned her heels to leave. Too late.
"Come, child," she said in a feminine and sweet voice. Sarah was reminded of her mother, and, though she didn't know why, she trusted her immediately. She turned. "I am sorry if I have frightened you. Please, walk with me."
Not knowing what to say, she nodded. Lady Aoif rose - and though Sarah was in no way small, she was towered by the other woman. A faerie trait, without a doubt. They locked arms, and began to walk.
"You might already know that, but I am Aoif, the High Lady of the Court of Roses."
The Court of Roses. This is where she was.
"I am Sarah. Sarah Williams." she introduced herself in turn. "And I must say, I am not really surprised by the name of your Court." she added, laughing.
Lady Aoif laughed in turn, and Sarah was mesmerized. She had never heard such a beautiful sound.
"I know, it is quite obvious." She smiled gently. "Now Sarah, I assume you have questions?"
She had so many that it hurt her head. She furrowed a brow, trying to concentrate.
"What happened to me? Why am I here? And... Why does Niamh have pointy ears and wings?"
Lady Aoif laughed again, amused by her sudden babbling.
"Hush, sweet child. That is a lot of questions. But rest assured that I will answer all of them." She caressed her cheek in a maternal gesture. She wondered if the woman before her had once been a mother. She certainly behaved like one. After a moment of silence, she let her hand go, and looked at Sarah almost with regret. Then she smiled, as if this moment didn't happen. "You had an accident, as Niamh told you. You got hit by a car. It was pretty serious. In fact…" she squeezed her hand. "You died."
Sarah's breath stopped.
She had died. She was… But how? Did her family know? Were they mourning her, at the very moment?
Her heart was beating fast, and it made her feel dizzy.
"I need to sit." is all she told Aoif. The woman nodded in understanding, and they sat on a nearby bench. A bench that wasn't here just seconds ago. Did the woman do that? Feeling nauseated, she closed her eyes and breathed. She had to calm down. A glass of water magically appeared, and Sarah greedily drank it. She mumbled a 'thank you', and gestured lady Aoif to continue her story.
"You do realize that you are not… In your world." she told her as if she was talking to a child. Sarah nodded. She was no child and she was very much starting to understand the situation she was in. "You are in the Underground. This is a very large kingdom, with different courts, like mine. However, we are united under the banner of one ruler: our High King. I believe... You and him know each other."
Sarah's head rose, wide eyed. He was the High King? She thought he was only the Goblin King, a creature whose legend helped her grow out of her teenage years. Most of the time, she didn't even think he was real, just the product of an over-imaginative brain.
But deep down, she always knew, didn't she? Her memories were too vivid to be just a dream, even after all these years. She could see it in herself - she could see it in Toby.
But High King… That was something she hadn't expected. Somehow, she had thought he was some kind of exiled king, maybe. A fae who, like her, was misunderstood by his peers. She didn't why she was feeling disappointed. Being High King meant he was more important than she ever will be. But it also meant she had caught the eye of someone who could have anyone. That also was empowering, in a way.
She noticed Lady Aoif was examining her face, as if studying her reaction. When she didn't react, she continued.
"You, dear child, are very special." Sarah wrinkled her nose, not quite believing that. "Thankfully for you, and for our sake, we came in time. We brought you to our best healers, who, with time and patience, brought you back from the dead. It was difficult, and we had no way of knowing it would work. But as I said…'' she caressed the tips of Sarah's hair. "You are very special."
That wasn't true. She always had desperately wanted to be special, but she wasn't. Yet…
"But how did you even know I had an accident?"
Aoif let go of her hair.
"You will not like it, but you ought to know the truth. When you came to England, I sensed you. I am the one who sent Niamh to your world, to look out for you, and to one day bring you to us. I didn't think it would be this soon, however."
The pang of hurt and betrayal Sarah felt was so violent, it made her shake. Niamh was supposed to be her friend, her very best friend, and yet she was a spy. She always knew she was special, joked about it even, but to know she had been spying on her, planning to take her to this place, since the very beginning? That hurt. A lot.
She wasn't sure she even wanted to see her again.
At least Lady Aoif seemed to be sorry about that.
"She betrayed me. I loved her and trusted her and she betrayed me. Why?" Because that didn't make sense. Why would they go such lengths, to just bring her back?
Aoif sighed. "There is… a prophecy. About you. And only five people in the world know about it: his Grace, me, and the Three Witches who told him this prophecy." Sarah's ear peaked in interest. She was hurt, but she had to know. Had to know why she died and somehow, came back.
"Jareth doesn't know I know. It was long ago and I wasn't supposed to follow him that night. But orgies, when you are with a child and your husband is too preoccupied with another woman, can get quite boring."
Sarah hadn't expected the pang of jealousy she felt. Faeries were known to be very sexual beings, she had read about this. It wasn't difficult to imagine their High King would be as well. Yet, that unexpectedly bothered her. She didn't want to think about why.
"When he met the Three Witches, I was scared. Scared of them, scared to be discovered, scared for my future child… And yet, I stayed. I was a curious little thing. This is where I learned that one day, our King would meet a mortal girl, and that mortal girl would change our world." She paused, and Sarah breathed, anxiously waiting. "The witches said that the girl would best him twice, and that she would change our world twice. When centuries after I learned that for the first time, a mortal had defeated the King and his labyrinth, I realized who the girl from the prophecy was. You, Sarah."
Sarah rose. Twice would mean that she would have to challenge him again. And what would be the cost, this time? She had almost lost her brother already. She didn't want to know what she could lose this time. She had to come home, to her parents, to Toby. She was too old for fairy tales.
"I am sorry, Lady Aoif. Whatever you need from me, I am afraid I cannot give you." She was sincere in her apology. Aoif and her subjects had treated her well, and had healed her. "I thank you for everything you have done for me. It is something I will never forget." And on that, she made her departure.
"He never loved you, you know."
She came to a stop, suddenly feeling very cold. He never loved you. The words were spinning in her head.
"What?" was all she could ask.
Aoif gestured to her to come back. She shouldn't…
And yet, she did. Because that hurt, more than Niamh's betrayal or some king's orgies. Because she wanted to know.
Because if he never loved her, then that meant she had been a fool, and Sarah Williams wasn't a fool.
"You really think it was fate that brought you to the labyrinth, fate that brought you to say the words? You really think the Goblin King, who was in truth the High King of Faeries, would fall in love with the mortal girl and grant her powers?" Aoif's words were gentle, as if she was truly sympathising with her. Yet her words cut through Sarah's heart. She had naively believed that, yes… It was fate. Fate and love.
It was a lie.
"You are lying to me." Was all she said, her heart desperately gripping to the hope that the beautiful faerie in front of her was a simple liar.
"Faeries cannot lie. You do know that." was all she answered. "This is how his Majesty preys on mortals. He made them read the book. And he feasts on their beliefs, for human's belief is what keeps our magic strong. He had done that for centuries."
Sarah's mind was reeling. Millions of thoughts collided in her head.
"But…" She stuttered. "He promised me…"
"Your dreams?" told her Aoif, in a chagrined manner. Sarah winced. She felt embarrassed and ridiculed. She felt like she was the butt of a centuries long joke. It hurt. A lot. "To fear him, to love him, and he will be your slave?"
She felt tears in her eyes, and she squinted her eyes to make them disappear. Breathing was getting difficult.
The story of her life was based on a lie.
"For centuries, this is what he had promised to mortals, men and women alike. And in the end, they all accepted his offer of dreams and love. All… But you."
So that meant she wasn't actually the only one who had defeated the labyrinth - not truly. She was just the only one who had resisted him. That was… Humiliating. Anger replaced pain. How dared him, playing with mortal hearts? Playing with her heart?
She wasn't a creature made for hate, but she felt a storm raging in her blood.
"Your parents and your brother don't know about what happened to you. To them, you had an urgent problem with your thesis and so you couldn't come home for the holidays. They don't expect to see you for a while. But rest assured that you will see them again, Sarah, I promise you. But I - we need you." Aoif's voice was pressing her, desperately trying to convince her. She still didn't understand.
"But… He is your king. Why would you conspire behind his back?" And where were even the daughter and husband she had talked about earlier? What was going on here?
"He is my King" Aoif agreed. And then, with a poison she didn't think such a beautiful woman could have, "And my enemy. I want him to pay for what he did to your kind. And I want him to pay for what he did to me and to my family."
Sarah hesitated. She could see that Lady Aoif was suffering, too. Something terrible had happened to her, and Jareth was directly responsible. She opened her mouth to ask but the woman interrupted her.
"You are free to leave now, Sarah," she told her, her voice a warning. "But make no mistake. You have defeated him once and he has never forgotten that. One day, there will be retribution to pay. And he may not be able to force you to say the word again, but…" her eyes glinted in a very fae-manner, and Sarah shuddered. "You have a brother who doesn't know that."
Sarah closed her eyes, breathing. She couldn't let anything happen to Tobby, or to his future children. She had sworn, 10 years before, that she would always protect him. Even at the cost of her own freedom. Her eyes still closed, she simply asked:
"Alright. What do I have to do?"
She missed Aoif's mischievous smile.
"I need you to best him once again … And I need you to become the High Queen of Faeries."