The Chapters of Life

Chapter Eleven: Liebestraum

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"That's it for today, I think." Jareth stretched. He felt uneasy, as he turned his wrists, feeling just a bit sore. "I know the labyrinth enjoys being repaired thus, but I'm also getting strange, insistent throbs from it."

"Hmm." Harel looked sideways at him. "Forgive me for prying, but… you are in the middle of conducting a Game with a human girl, aren't you?"

"The labyrinth is getting impatient," Jareth translated for him. He stretched one last time, then stood straight. "Not many days left, after all."

Tactfully, Harel avoided the subject as he also stood up from their work with bleary eyes. "I'm rather beginning to respect whoever first built the labyrinths. This is an insanely immense amount of work."

"The opposite goes for my father," the goblin king said with his contempt not hidden. "He evidently did not take much care of his own kingdom."

"He hasn't done the best of work," Harel agreed carefully. Politically, he couldn't afford to show disrespect to a former fey king, even if the present one did. He gave a light sigh. "Or it could be that you're just a bit biased, Jareth."

Jareth walked away to the window, needing fresh air after hours of working on the labyrinth. "I might be, but it's still the truth," he said shortly.

"He hasn't done much in the way of indoor decoration, true, but the physical labyrinth itself is quite a work of art – even if its magic is stale."

"He didn't rule his kingdom," Jareth said, staring out at the labyrinth in question. It was beautiful, in its own way… but it was also useless. "He got caught up too much in the fairy tales of the mortals, and when the legends were slowly forgotten, he just faded away, himself." His mouth twisted. "He didn't even think to secure an heir."

Harel was careful in his choice of words, not only because of political issues, but also because of his friend's tendency to fly into rage whenever the subject was mentioned. "He knew he had offsprings."

Jareth gave an arid laugh, genuinely amused. "Bastards here and there, surely, but no one he'd truly bothered to train – or even meet. Not on any woman he loved."

Silence fell between them.

Finally, Harel rubbed his eyes. "Jareth, you don't know what happened," he spoke.

"No, you're right," the goblin king answered, just as quietly – but in a much, much colder voice. "You're right. I don't know."

"Jareth-"

"I don't know," Jareth snarled. "I don't know if what they had was love, even fleeting, or just desire – or just lust on my father's part, nothing more. I rather suspect the last. What does it matter? I was just one of the many, just one who happened to get lucky."

Harel's face was in the shadow as he bowed his head. There wasn't much he could say.

Seconds passed. Jareth's grip on the window sill relaxed. He left where he had been standing. "I apologize, Harel. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."

"Don't concern yourself with such things," Harel said, waving away the formality. His eyes had been on the model of the labyrinth that they had used to help in reviving the labyrinth's magic, but the older fey king was now standing up. "I'll leave now, then. If you ever get stuck again, or need any aid in your task, call me."

"Thank you." Jareth gave a slight nod of thanks as Harel calmly disappeared.

The goblin king sank into his chair for a moment, closing his eyes and resting, chasing away unwanted thoughts.

His father, he could think without any inhibitions. He hated the man, even if he'd never seen him, because he'd never seen him. He loathed him for being such an ineffective king.

But his mother…

He abruptly stood up. There was no time to dwell on such things.

He had, after all, a date.

J Y S

Sarah waited impatiently.

Her hair had been brushed over and over again until it hung straight down her shoulders. It matched her brown jacket well. The jeans she was wearing was the best one she had, and there was hint of make up on her face.

After all, he had only seen her when her hair was a mess from sleeping and she was in her night clothes. If this was going to be a date, she might as well make the best out of it and dress up.

Now, if only the date in question would show up…

She spotted him, in a few minutes.

He was walking towards her, as if determined to give her the illusion of this being a mortal date; she knew he could have just appeared in front of her, rather than walk from wherever he had entered the Aboveground.

A part of her mind absently wondered just where and how he came to the Aboveground, but most of her mind was busy appreciating the effort Jareth gone to for her.

His hair was shorter, much shorter, and arranged in the sort of careless hairstyle that requires hours of work to appear as if it had been effortlessly done in a few minutes. He was wearing jeans, which was a rather jarring sight, and a white t-shirt underneath a black vest that was zipped up just below the base of his neck. All of his arms were bare, but the black gloves were still there, matching the vest well.

He stood in front of her now. "Ready?" he asked, cocking his head. His hair blew gently in the wind, looking all the more beautiful.

"You look younger." Her words were a question, bordering on accusation.

His teeth glinted as he smiled. "I haven't done anything magical to appear younger."

She pushed herself off the fence that she was leaning on, and gave him a look. "Are you trying to imply that you actually did the hair and clothes without magic?"

"Now I have to admit I'm lost," Jareth laughed, softly, as he offered her his hand. She took it without thinking, but felt the strangeness of the situation even stronger as they began to walk – she was strolling down the street, holding hands with the goblin king.

"What am I supposed to say next?" he continued, humor still in his voice. "'I really haven't done much'? Or, 'Anything for you, my dear?'"

"If you're trying to sound like a human," Sarah said, rolling her eyes, "Start by dropping the my dear. Teenagers don't call each other dear."

"Like I'd said before, human, not teenager. I don't even dare attempt such a feat."

Sarah laughed out loud as she walked a little faster, half-leading, half-dragging him. "I could be offended," she called out behind her. "I am a teenager."

"You could be, but you're not." Jareth matched her pace. "Where are we going, by the way? You seem in a hurry to get there."

"I want to get there early, so there won't be a crowd." With that, she led him across the street, then into a restaurant a few doors down the street.

Inside was a bit dark. Jareth blinked, his pupils adjusting, as he looked around. The building was built of wood, and nothing was done to hide that fact; the walls had been left alone, without anything to cover up the wood. A few dim lights hung from the ceiling. There was an upstairs balcony, and a few round tables that were decorated so charmingly with lanterns and flowers, and –

Ah. Off to the far corner, Jareth noticed what Sarah had undoubtedly meant when she spoke of an idea the night before.

It wasn't a stage, not really. It was just a little clearing, with a mike and a few instruments left out for people to play, such as a guitar, a saxophone, a violin, and –

A piano.

Without her telling him, he walked over to the instrument, running his hand down the top fondly. It was a baby grand, small and black.

Sarah was standing beside him, soon, after securing a table for themselves nearby. He saw that there was an impish grin on her face as she looked up at him, tilting her head so that her hair fell on the instrument. "Play for me?"

Jareth laughed, as he placed a hand on her head. "Is this what you had in mind?" he asked, mirth rising in him.

She shook his hand away with a flick of her hair. "Yes." She stepped back. "I'm going to sit at our table, and listen. Don't disappoint me – or I'll be ruthless all evening." Listening to his chuckle, she went and sat down at a table only a few paces away, placing her arms on the table and watching him expectantly.

Jareth paused only for the briefest moment before he walked around and sat down. He ran an experimental hand across the keys, marveling at the touch of them under his fingers. It had been too long since he'd touched an instrument.

He considered the keys for a moment, staring at them, almost forgetting the quiet girl who was watching him. Then he raised his head, and glanced over to Sarah. "If I don't live up to your expectations this time, don't blame me. I haven't played for such a long time." Probably longer than you have been alive, he thought, as he slowly pulled his slender fingers out of his dark gloves.

Sarah shrugged. She was plainly excited to hear him.

Placing the gloves on top of the piano, Jareth hesitated, for one sweet moment, before his finger came down on the keys.

Without warming up, without any dawdling, he began to play, his eyes closing, his hands traveling smoothly, dreamily, lovingly…

Liebestraum… Dream of love.

Sarah felt her eyes close as well. The melody lured her, calmed her… let her dream.

She did not open them even as the last note faded away. She was much to relaxed, dreamy, to do anything other than linger in the aftermath silence of the song even as footsteps came towards her. Then she felt warm lips on her forehead, and her eyes finally opened.

He was leaning down at her, his hair shadowing his eyes. Wordlessly he kissed her again, on the forehead, as she stared at him, then straightened and walked around the table to sit on the other side.

Her heart was beating fast, but this was a different kind, not the kind of nervous fluttering that she had promised she would not let happen again. It was more pleasant, yet even more unnerving, unsettling… more aching.

He watched her, silently, his eyes still shadowed in the dim light of the restaurant.

She calmed her breathing. It took some tries. Finally, she said, in a soft yet teasing tone, "Liszt?"

Jareth nodded, once. The gloves were back in place. "Yes. You don't like Liszt?"

"I love Liszt," Sarah said. Her heart was purring, and she was beginning to decide she didn't mind that feeling. "It's just that – you said you'd been away from a piano for a long time, then play Liszt without warming up or anything." She shook her head in amazement. "I didn't expect you to be that wonderful a pianist."

Jareth smiled. "So I surpassed your expectations for the first time," he said teasingly. "Though to tell you the truth, I was a bit surprised, as well… I haven't played for years – but that song had been a rather favourite of mine, so I guess it's not really surprising."

"When was the last time that you played?" Curiosity was evident in her voice.

The smile he sent her was feral. "Do you really want to know?"

"Uh oh. That long?"

"Maybe." The teasing grin was back.

Sarah picked up the menu and toyed with it. "I have a question."

"I have an answer. Who shall go first?"

She was not to be thrown off her question, though she did glare at him briefly. "When did you learn to play piano?"

He blinked. Obviously, he had not been expecting that question. His face was carefully blank as he answered again, "Do you really want to know?"

Same evasive answer – yet this one was spoken a bit more blankly, a bit more carefully.

"Yes." Sarah's answer was sure.

He watched the top of the table for a moment, considering. Then he answered, blankly. "When the piano was invented."

"Oh," Sarah said rather lamely, kicking herself for not realizing the answer yet. After all, considering his age –

Her thoughts came to a stop.

How old was he?

"Although," he was going on, interrupting her thoughts, "I suppose you might say I really started music when the harpsichord became popularized."

Judging from his mood, now was not the time to ask a new question, Sarah decided.

She turned the conversation lighter as she opened her menu and peered at it. "It was one of my dreams, you know," she said softly. "Being on a date, when someone plays the piano for me…" she laughed at herself. "I think I would have actually chosen that song, if I had been asked what song I would have liked to heard."

"I hope you're not thinking that I played it so wonderfully because you wished it," Jareth warned her, shaking off his gloom and adopting a playfully dangerous tone as he opened his menu as well. "My musical pride is already bleeding at the thought that you might believe my abilities are something other than mine."

"I didn't say anything." Sarah countered, just as playfully. She changed subjects. "So, what would you like to eat?"

The rest of the evening went well, considering.

Their conversation didn't really change from what it had been at home. They ruthlessly teased each other and laughed at themselves. They did have a rather heated dispute on what to order as dessert, but peace was made by ordering way more than they could ever eat.

"I like doing this," quipped Jareth as he took another bit of one of the numerous desserts.

"Really? I'm glad." Sarah lazily sipped at her coffee, grateful for the taste. "Does that mean you're going to phone me tonight?"

Jareth looked at her strangely. "I'm going to be there tonight," he reminded her.

Her only response was to roll her eyes.

He shot her a 'I-saw-that' look at her before picking up a spoon to start nibbling away at the mountain of ice cream sitting in the middle of their small wooden table. "I get to see you for longer than usual," he explained his earlier comment as he leisurely took a mouthful. "I like that. And I get to see you during the day – well, evening, I guess."

A now-familiar fluttering. Sarah took a mouthful of the ice cream herself, to give herself time while she tried to decide what to say. She settled on, "You see me way more than a human boyfriend ever would," with a prim expression.

"I had to wait until you were eighteen," Jareth pointed out. He was totally relaxed.

Might as well ask now, then.

"So," Sarah began, licking her spoon, "since this is a normal, human date, might as well get the first-time questions out of the way, right?"

"Ask away."

"Do you have any siblings?" she chose a question that seemed safe, for now.

Apparently it wasn't. Jareth stilled for a moment, his face stony, then he put down his spoon, carefully. "None that I've met."

The thought of the goblin king having a sibling was bizarre for her. "How many do you know that you have?"

"Countless." His tone was dead. "I didn't really count. I doubt my own father counted."

There was something about the way he saw my own father that alerted her to the truth. She tried a guess. "Any from your mother?"

"Only me."

This wasn't really a good start, Sarah knew. She also knew that any conversation like this with him was bound to be uncomfortable and stilted.

So she barged on. "Which one was the goblin royalty that left you the throne?"

"My father." Again, that tone, that flash of distaste.

Disturbed, Sarah put down her spoon as well, the food forgotten. "Do you mind me asking these questions?" she asked quietly. "I can stop, if you want."

Jareth opened his mouth – then shut it again. Silence stretched out between them for a long moment.

Finally, he shook his head. "No. I don't like to talk about it – but I should tell you."

"You don't have to," she stumbled in her awkward words.

Jareth did not reply, but he gave a small shake of his head, which Sarah had no idea what it meant.

"Do you want to leave, now?" she asked after a small pause.

He looked up at that. "You wish to go home?"

"I was actually hoping we could go for a walk," Sarah answered, hesitantly.

There was another blank expression on his face as he looked at her – then he smiled. "That sounds good."

After a few minutes, during which Jareth gallantly paid for their dinner (Sarah did not ask where he got the money, though she was silently impressed by his ability to count mortal money), they were outside, walking side by side in the dusk in silence.

"Any particular place you wish to go?" Jareth broke the silence with his question.

"I want to walk, for now."

They walked.

Sarah stole glances at him as they walked. He still looked younger than the goblin king, but there was a difference in him that had not been present earlier in the evening – he looked weary, she realized. There was a tired weariness in him, one that would be present in only those who had experienced many years.

Yet whatever he was appearing as, there was always something about him, Sarah thought, something that made her feel…

She felt happy, without reason, when he was there.

She felt her heart nearly stop, whenever he made the vaguest movement – leaning in a bit closer, pushing her hair back, reaching for her hand.

And when he'd been playing the piano earlier, she had felt such a strong emotion surge inside her, one that made her breath catch as she listened to him, that started a sort of trembling in her body, trembling that had only worsened when he'd kissed her on the forehead.

"Yes?" Feeling her eyes on him, Jareth lowered his head slightly, watching the girl, a hint of warmth in his question.

She had an idea. "I want to show you something."

He let her take his hand and drag her down the street, across the bridge, into the park.

There, she released his hand and ran a few steps forward, breathing in deep the night air, tilting her head backwards.

He watched her, a hand in his pocket, with his eyes softening. She was still so young, he thought. Nearly eighteen and a half, but still so young. His heart ached to see her like that, spreading her arms, her eyes closing, like the child she had been when she had rehearsed her lines all those years ago. Like the child he had first fallen in love with…

She turned back to face him, still intoxicated by the fresh air. She slowly opened her eyes, coming back down to earth.

"Your favourite place to be," Jareth said, quietly.

Sarah nodded. "A place where my dreams could come true, for a short while." She looked up at him, past her eyelashes. "You were here, weren't you? You were always here – whenever I came here. The white owl."

"Guilty as charged," he breathed. He put a finger on the center of her forehead, unable to help a little teasing. "How else did you think I knew about all your dreams?"

She did not smile, as he'd intended her to. Instead, her eyes shadowing slightly as she lowered her head, she stepped forward, closer to him, now barely a pace away.

"I just realized something about my dreams," she said, softly.

He lowered his hand, watched her. Said nothing, encouraged her to continue.

She took a deep breath. "I once said I was afraid I didn't know who you really were," she began, quietly. "That I was afraid my wish of who I wanted you to be would overcome who you really were… that my desire to know you would be weaker than my dream of who you are and my fear of who you might be. Like I'd said, I'd never know."

All around, it was dark and silent. Not another sound was heard, other than that of her voice, which carried on after a small intake of breath.

"But now I just realized… I don't need to worry about that. Because I know, now."

She raised her eyes. He was staring down at her, his expression… what? Stunned? Careful? Waiting?

Sarah breathed in, deep. The night air was still intoxicating her, and she went on, softly, boldly. "It doesn't matter, you see, because I know. Because it's you. Because I want you. It's not that you are who I want you to be – but it is that I want you, whether you're the goblin king, a tutor in magic, a pretender who won't be a teenager – You are who you are, and I want you to be nothing else. I want you – just you - "

One step, one quick breath, then he was sweeping her up in his arms, stopping her last words lifting her up, holding her close. There was a feverish kind of longing in his eyes. "Say that again," he whispered, looking up.

Her heart fluttering once more, she braced herself shakily with her hands against his shoulder. "I want you."

"Say it again."

A kind of nervous laughter was bubbling hysterically inside her, and she nearly choked. "I want you –"

"Say it –" the laughter burst out from her, and at her squirming he nearly lost balance, but still, still he held her, though she slipped down just a bit closer to the ground now – "Again."

Their foreheads touched. Her body was shaking from the laughter, though she hardly knew why she was laughing – he was unable to take his eyes off her, staring at her, staring at her –

"I love you," she whispered, then lowered her head to bury it on his shoulder.

He moved before she could, and their lips met, sweetly, chastely, seemingly never-ending.

He let her down, after long moments during which neither had spoken, still holding her close.

They stood like that, for a long time, in each other's arms, the goblin king and the human girl.

Finally, she moved back, just a little, breathless. He allowed that inch between them only reluctantly.

"I should…" what was it that she had been trying to say? She couldn't remember – all she could remember was the trembling, the heat, the sweetness – "go home." Yes, she remembered now, she'd promised to be back before ten, she had to go now…

"Wait," Jareth said, his arms still cradling around her, his voice husky. "Don't go yet." He slowly relaxed his hold on her, so that they were now in only a loose embrace.

"I'll see you there," Sarah whispered, the words both a question and a reassurance.

Instead of answering, he moved, pulling on her arm, so that they were now sitting on the grass, her head tucked under his chin, her arms around his neck.

"Not just yet," he repeated, burying his face on her hair, breathing in her scent.

She turned around, so that she could see his face. "Jareth –"

He caught her lips again, softly, before releasing gently. "Watch the summer stars with me," he said, his voice low.

She did not say no, and they sat there for long moments, always in each other's arms, looking up at the sky.

After a few moments, a few more stolen kisses, he began to speak.

Annnd here is chapter eleven! Hope you liked it, and thank you a thousand times for those who reviewed last time! ;)

And yes, that is the last sentence. Next chapter will cover what Jareth talked about after this - in other words, a flashback of his past. Sonia, whose review to chapter nine I couldn't reply to because it wasn't signed, I hope you'll like the next chapter, since it covers something you wanted to know! No, I'm afraid Keith doesn't get crushed by a moving truck, at least not in the next chapter...

Anyways! I'm really happy you've stuck with me this far, and hope you'll continue to do so!