She didn't know what they were playing for any more.
He had sent her back out into his labyrinth, given her those last precious minutes to try and win, but she found herself with absolutely no idea of what she was supposed to do, no idea of what she wanted to do.
She had wanted her choice back – her freedom – but oh, god, not like this. He had given her sweetness beyond compare, and then snatched it away so cruelly, leaving her with the threat of bitter tears and a sourness that would not leave her mouth. Used, it said; he used me. The worst of it was, despite her sadness, despite the need to blame him, she remained level-headed enough to know it wasn't true. She had seen the pain in his eyes before he had willed her away, but that did not make his decision any less cruel. He had taken from her all she had to offer, given all of himself in the same way, but once again he had left her cold and alone.
Cast out, cast aside, she had wasted those first few minutes of freedom, shocked into near-sobbing, breathing hard, deflowered and utterly, hopelessly distraught. She needed someone to touch her, hold her, but the only man she had ever trusted enough to do so was the very source of her pain. It occurred to her that if she were to speak his name, welcoming him again, Jareth would no doubt, in his love for her, oblige, in spite of the new rift that had been opened between them. He would give her anything – everything – if she only dared ask it, but right then she could not. She couldn't give him the satisfaction, even at the price of her own unhappiness, and so she fought to keep from weeping instead, the tears that wanted to fall enough to drown out their time together.
The shadow of some great bird passed overhead, but she did not look up at it, hoping, in all her pain, that he was at least hurting too. Bitterness wasn't the greatest step upwards from sadness, but it was at least enough to get her moving at last, walking towards the great castle that stood in the distance.
It was hard going at first; she was so very tired. Both of them had been through more than enough that day, her entire world turned on its head with all the trials and long-hidden emotions she had been forced to face, and yet it still wasn't over. She had asked for her time, and he had given it to her. Generous to the last, she thought, with a bitter little smile.
From the beginning, he had sought nothing more than to trap her here, keeping her for his very own; she would be the poor princess captured by the villain and locked away from everything, like the ones in so many fairy stories she had read. She had fought this dark king tooth and nail, resisting the urge to give in to him, but in the end it had all been for nothing. The more she had seen of him, the harder it was to ignore her feelings, impossible to deny that she shared the passion and longing he so clearly felt for her.
With every step she had taken in his labyrinth, she had been brought closer to victory, and yet also a step closer to him, learning that the helpless need she had felt all this time had been a shared one, learning that more than lust had kept her wanting him all these years. He had severed the bond between them, but she remained trapped here all the same, bound to him, cursed to go on wanting him. Unfettered, there was nowhere she longed to fly but back into his arms.
You have no power over me. The words were as true now as they were back then. There was nothing keeping her here, save for her own stubborn refusal to let go. Though she no longer truly wanted to be free of him, she had resisted the idea of giving in to him completely, and for what? To spend another hour traipsing along a path that, in the end, would lead her nowhere? She had already won her victory; there was nothing in his castle that could make leaving here any easier. The castle was where it had last ended between them, and there it was where they would say their cold goodbyes again. The irony that she had been sent out from within its very walls, only to seek it again did not escape her, but to have ended their game in his bed would have meant …
She didn't want to think of what it meant.
The pain of his dismissal was enough for her to fret upon; to be cast so cruelly from his bed seemed unforgivable, and yet deep inside, a part of her screeched bitter laughter at the fact. She had kept him at arm's length for years, starting with that first cruel rejection, and stretching on into the stubbornness that had kept them apart all this time, brought together only by her drunken whim. It made the pain no easier, but how that dark part of her mind revelled in that sting. Have your piece of cake, Sarah, it said. Have it, and choke down every last bite. She had gotten herself into this whole mess, and now only she could get herself out.
She couldn't see a clear answer, couldn't call upon him for help, a prisoner to her own thoughts … and thinking hurt so goddamn much. So, swiping away her brimming tears, she concentrated on walking instead. Walking was safer, blocking out all else except the need to push on through the pain, fighting towards an end she was no longer sure she even wanted. Hills and paths, rocks and trees blurred around her, her surroundings unimportant, focusing only on what lay dead ahead: the Goblin City, and beyond it, the castle. Her eyes never wavered from her goal as her steps began to pick up speed, filled with new determination.
The blood sang through her veins, her muscles pumping with adrenaline as her steps grew faster, more sure of themselves. Her breath became heavy in her throat as she moved from a gentle trot to a slow jog. Soon, she was running flat-out, her feet flying over the rough ground beneath them. All she had to concentrate on was the wind on her cheeks and in her hair, the steady thump of her feet moving forwards, one in front of the other. When her thoughts threatened to chase her down, she had only to move faster, keeping her eyes set on that goal, letting it be the only thing that mattered.
He had turned her loose, and now she ran; from him – from everything.
She didn't know what they were playing for any more, but she ran all the same.
She ran until every gulp of air she took burned in her throat, hearing the rasp and whistle of her own breathing, only realising it had finally turned to sobs when the first hot tears hit her cheeks. She came to an abrupt halt around a half-mile from the city walls, in what appeared to be the outskirts of some threadbare and meagre woodlands. No city of junk here this time to confuse her, she thought bitterly – the only garbage was the teeming mess that was her mind. She threw her back against the nearest tree for some solidity as she wheezed and wept, pressing both hands to her mouth to stifle the cries that threatened to overwhelm her. She sucked in air through her fingers, and even still, the occasional braying sob escaped, and she was helpless to stop them. Finally, she sank down against the tree trunk, curled her arms tightly around her knees, and simply wept.
It's just sex, Sarah; stop this. You need to get over it. I'm pretty sure lots of women are disappointed their first time, and now you're no different. Suck it up – there'll be other men eventually.
That thought was of little comfort, particularly as she hadn't been disappointed at all – not until now, when it was over. Her first time had been as wonderful as she had ever dreamt it could be. Her lover's every kiss, his every touch set her skin on fire, leaving her tingling with their intensity, her heart beating that little bit faster just from being near to him. If it was just sex, why did the thought of having anyone besides him send her stomach turning in on itself, all but winded just by the idea of being without him? She had denied it all – denied him – for too long, and now it was all too much, every emotion a weight she could not hope to bear alone.
How she longed for her friends of old, then, false though she knew they were. Hoggle, and Ludo, and Sir Didymus. Those precious illusions had followed her out of the labyrinth, making her long-ago victory all the sweeter with their dancing and laughter. Truly, she had been a champion, back then, bending the labyrinth's power to suit her own will, conjuring one last goodbye to those imaginary friends that had aided her on her quest.
Though they had walked with her in the dreams she had, she had never again been able to call them to her in person, no matter how hard she had wished in her bedroom mirror. Eventually, she had let them fade away, discarding them as she discarded her old toys and costumes as more adult things came into her life, and into her dreams. Thoughts of Jareth – that very real, very adult companion – had outweighed all other thoughts of monsters and magic, but how much simpler it would have been to go back to that one last celebration with her childhood friends, putting off all painful thoughts of adulthood for good.
When she returned Aboveground this time, life would go on as it always had, but there would be no songs and laughter to celebrate her victory this time; she would be alone. She had always been alone, to some degree, preferring her stories and fanciful daydreams to the cold real world; a quiet evening with a book was always better than a crowded party. In the real world, she had her family and her handful of friends, but there was also that vague sense of horror at becoming older, normal, of ever losing that spark of interest she had in the strange and the fantastical. Small wonder, then, that the man to delight her dreams had been straight out of some dark fairytale, rather than some handsome hunk in a suit.
She hated her dark fairytale king right then, but found herself wanting more of him even still – more of what she had only tasted so far. There was still the pleasant ache of having him at his deepest inside her, the memory of his hands and lips against her skin; the look in his eyes as he had loved her. She wanted those things again, wanted to forget everything but that feeling of utmost warmth and passion that had burned between them. Most of all though, she wanted what would come after – that nameless something she had so far been denied.
Through her tears, her mind sent up bitter-sweet images of happier things, normal things: sunny afternoons spent lazing in Jareth's comforting arms; long, cold evenings wrapped up tightly in his loving warmth. She had been alone for so long, and she needed something to hope for, some promise of what would come after all this, even though she knew it could not be. He was the only man she had ever wanted, the only one she had ever found herself in need of, but he would never be a 'normal' man, any more than what life they could ever hope to have together would be 'normal'.
Perhaps, from the moment she had first set foot inside his world, she had been doomed never to have a 'normal' life.
Jareth was as far from a 'normal' man as she could get. He was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on, but when he held her in his arms, it was more than mere beauty that made her long to stay there forever. There was a warmth there that she had never felt in even the most heated of her dreams – a need for him that ran far too deeply inside her to be called lust. The best of it was, looking into his eyes and truly seeing him at last, she knew he felt the same. Behind the teasing, behind the sharp wit and the verbal sparring, he had laid his emotions bare; he worshipped her, would live and die for her, if only she would go to him, and admit she would be willing to do the same.
It was him, and yet it was also more: it was the magic she had felt in this realm, the sense of mystery and romance at his masked ball. The Underground was her Neverland, its many secrets ones she longed to explore, its king the one who had captured her interest and her heart so completely that no mortal man had ever stood a chance. Ah, but there was that terrible thought of normalcy again. A normal man would not need her to bow before him; a fae king, however, would. She would not simply be his lover, nor his girlfriend; she would be his queen.
At least Peter Pan had never had to grow up, playing the kid forever. Here, far from some dream of Neverland, she would be very much the adult, thrust into the limelight, ruling an entire kingdom … or half of it, at least, with her king ever at her side. Even without the other thoughts troubling her, that idea of ruling terrified her. She knew nothing of laws and decrees and royal audiences; hell, she knew nothing of marriage. Even worries of kingdoms and subjects paled in comparison to that deeper fear of him.
Though Jareth had done his best to reassure her, she could not help but think he might one day grow weary of her, leaving her entirely alone in this new and strange world. She was more afraid than she had ever been, of the feelings she was struggling to keep reined in: the thought of losing him; yet more alarming thoughts of actually having him for her own at last. There had been no one else, but only because she had wanted no one else. She had longed for him, and only him all this time, and let herself come to hate him because of it.
She was so confused, so very tired, and her mind kept insisting on how much easier it would be to just let Jareth decide – let him win. If she were to agree to become his queen …
Would he truly be winning, if the prize was one they both now desired?
It was madness, really. She had spent countless mornings cursing the very thought of him, wishing for a way out of the dreams, an escape from that seemingly endless wanting, and now it seemed she couldn't bring herself to leave – to finally wake up. By all rights, she should have grabbed the chance and run the moment he rid her of the enchanted peach, free at last, embracing that chance of having a normal life. The truth of it was, in spite of everything that had happened between them – perhaps because of all that had unfolded between them – she still wanted him; she still wanted to go on wanting him.
He could not force her to stay – did not have power enough to force her into becoming his – but that longing she felt had made her his, regardless. She had no doubt in her heart now that she had let herself fall in love with him, the bond she had felt between them far stronger than any magic he might once have thrown her way, and that love had made her weak.
With a sigh, she lifted her head, knocking it firmly against the tree trunk behind her. There she was, bawling like a baby, and actually considering his offer like it wasn't the craziest idea in the world. It really wasn't fair. Having to deal with falling in love was one thing; having to love the Goblin King was something else entirely. She was supposed to have won, supposed to have been free of him, and god, she was angry, but there was no one to turn that anger on now but herself. She was alone in some strange world she both loved and hated, with nothing but her own tears and self pity, and it disgusted her. This wasn't the same girl who had once made a king bow to her will.
Get it together, Sarah. You're being ridiculous, and you're running out of time.
Time – so little of it left to go. The city gates lay open, the castle in reaching distance, but what lay beyond it? An eternity either way, of solitude or near servitude, and still she couldn't decide which was worse. Either way, she knew she had to get moving again soon.
When her sobs at last began to taper off, she took in her surroundings, and saw they were as miserable as she herself was. On her first visit, she had been come through a city made entirely of garbage to reach the Goblin City, but somehow this was even worse. The towers of junk that had tarnished her last visit here were nowhere in sight; in their place, small, pitiful trees struggled to raise their trunks from the dry orange soil, their thin branches looking weak enough to snap in the breeze. They made for a pathetic sight to match her mood, made all the worse through her sniffles and the odd tears that just kept on escaping. Everything around her seemed pale and wan, trees and scrubby bushes dry and close to dying, lacking that all-important hope. She knew just how they felt.
She sniffled loudly, swiping at her damp cheeks with the backs of her hands. So, what, then? Surrender to him, and spend the rest of her long life playing the fairytale queen, playing at romance reading sonnets and weaving flowers into her true love's hair? She had to snort at that – the preening Goblin King would hardly let her do anything that might mess up his flowing blond locks. It was a ridiculous dream, the idea of staying with him, but here she was, dreaming it anyway, wondering in what conceivable way it could ever become a reality. As much as they had hurt one another, she knew it could be overcome – it was the thought of that lifetime that would come after that pained her most of all.
After all, whatever decision she came to would affect both of them; she would shape both of their eternities.
It was surprising just how much it pained her to think of him being left alone. No, she corrected herself, not just alone – in pain. How strange it seemed that only the barest thought of that pain – his pain – made it her own, cutting too sharply to be called mere pity. She had held his heart hostage all this time, and just wanted to end that torment. Still, even through that pain, she knew her decision would again need to be a selfish one – one she could, beyond any shadow of doubt, name her own. If her heart wasn't entirely in it, it would be even more cruel to them both if she stayed. It would be kinder to leave him here alone.
He would never be truly alone, she realised – there would always be the memory of the dreams, and the time they had shared together that day, however brief, to haunt him. There would always be that connection between them, the longing that would never quite fade away. Through all her muddled thoughts, she found it was that sense of longing that finally got her on her feet; got her moving again. If nothing else, she owed it to them both to finish this. Neither of them had anything left to give; it would be cruel to make him come searching for her when their time finally came to an end. When – if – she said her goodbyes, she had to be strong enough to do it in person, at his castle, rather than snivelling here at his city gates.
With still no real idea of what her decision would be, she walked on, her mind full of tangled thoughts, dreams and realities.
Was it so wrong to long for more than the dreams, for that infinite bounty she knew he offered her? He had laid everything at her feet: an eternity, an entire kingdom; its king on his knees before her. So much power of her own, whilst his pleas for the same went unanswered. That was what everything came back to – power. How she hated it, right then. She had a choice to make, and it was hers alone – a lifetime to decide upon. Selfish though it was, maybe even crazy, god help her, she found herself leaning towards him.
She made her way through what seemed to be an entirely abandoned Goblin City, bereft of life, with hide nor hair of its strange and unruly citizens to be seen. Not a single guard had been posted, and that in itself spoke volumes of her imminent victory. Her tired feet took her through narrow, dusty alleyways, but her mind remained elsewhere, somewhere perhaps just as dusty and lonely, lost in that infernal battle for power.
She had asked him if that power was more important than love, needing to know which desire was stronger in him. She had never gotten her answer, and now she realised she had yet to ask herself the same question, afraid of what it might uncover. Even in the most heated of her dreams, the only power he had ever wielded was that which she had allowed him to have. She could no longer deny that submitting to him sexually did anything less than thrill her – both of them knew all too well just how sweetly a journey down that road would end – but over other aspects of her life; over her?
Such submission wasn't possible. He didn't get to win her that way.
She had earned her freedom by beating him once; she was only a matter of minutes away from doing it again – and none too soon, either. Though she wore no watch, she knew her time must almost be up by now, his grand clock poised to strike thirteen and make an end to their game. She had to push past these doubts and hurry, if she wanted to best him again, but still her thoughts held her in place. No matter what he had said to her, and how he had crowed about claiming his own victory over her, she was the one with the real power, the one who had faced hardships untold and dangers unnumbered; the one who had faced a king head on, and made him crumble in defeat. She was the true winner, the Champion of the labyrinth-
She was as stubborn as he was.
The sole reason she couldn't allow to win was that, in doing so, she would be admitting defeat, sharing the power that had always been hers.
Power. Always power.
Becoming aware of a coolness against her palm, she realised that she had curled a fist around the moonstone at her throat. Protection. Love. A gift from the man who had already given her all else he had to offer … including his surrender. He knew there was nothing he could do to keep her here if she didn't want to stay. He had already accepted that she would leave him, and all the pain it would bring, but still he had given her all that she asked for, even up to the end. He had admitted the mistakes he had made, and let them go; he had let her go.
At first, he had tried to demand her love, and she had baulked because, in spite of his generosity, her heart had owed him nothing; she was no prize, no matter how much he had wanted to win her for his own, growing impatient when she would not respond. Mere love did not, in itself, deserve love, earn love back in kind like some cheap trade, but a gift of love, given freely …
Sarah found that was worth far more to her than anything he had given her so far. It was as honest and pure as the moonstone he had placed around her neck; she would leave him with nothing, no return of his affections, and instead of hating her for it, he would let her go, and go on loving her just the same. Could she say the same for herself? Could she ever be selfless enough to truly give her own love, letting it reign regardless of what she got back in return; even if it meant surrendering, her heart left open and vulnerable as she gave up some of her own power?
Was love more important than power?
There was a warmth in her chest, a small flicker of hope inside her which said that it was. Another gamble, another risk, but she had played this far and she couldn't give up.
Slowly, but a little more certainly, she began to walk a little faster, clinging to that hope when there was nothing else left to guide her.
She climbed the stairs to the castle's heavy double doors, seeing that this time, they stood open, waiting for her entry. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, making one last attempt to gather the tattered threads of her thoughts, trying to figure out what she would possibly say to him when they met at last – when, one way or another, the game came to an end. She would pass through his throne room, and up more stairs to take her to the place where she had last claimed her triumph, but by crossing this last threshold, this new victory would be all but won. When her eyes opened again, she took those last few steps.
Her right foot was almost beneath the doorway when she realised she couldn't do it. Her eyes widened with realisation, and something she felt was close to regret, her travel-worn and dusty boot drawing up short.
Not power after all; it was pride.
She had been wrong. Her mind raced over Jareth's earlier words:
'It all boils down to desire, and ego. I want you to be mine, and my pride will stand for no less.'
She hadn't asked him about power; she had asked him if his pride was more important than the love he felt for her, but she had never gotten her answer. Now, she feared that she finally had. True love would come before pride; true love would mean no games to be won, no needless vanity between them. True love could never allow their time together to come to an end this way.
No matter how far she had come, no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how hard her heart was screaming at her to go to him, she knew she couldn't allow herself to enter. There was only one way out of this whole mess still open to her, and she wouldn't find it inside these walls. She backed away from the archway, backed away until she had almost reached the top of the stairs that had brought her here. Thirteen hours and many miles she had taken to travel here, but she would go no further that day.
More hot tears stung her cheeks as slowly, she turned her back on his castle – on him.