Disclaimer: Labyrinth is not mine. It belongs to Jim Henson, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.
"Preparations"
Sarah awoke to the soft rustle of pages turning. Her eyes fluttered open to a strange, yet welcome sight. Jareth, the Goblin King, sitting beside her in bed, already partly dressed, and reading. Three of the books she had given as gifts lay on the pillows beside him and he thumbed through one of her own.
"You know," Jareth said, his eyes never leaving the page as he spoke. "I do like this Franklin Jeffries character involved in the bootlegging business. His lover Marjorie, well I like her even more."
"Good morning to you too," Sarah said.
"I didn't mean to wake you," he told her, leaning down to brush one kiss over her cheek and another on her bare shoulder.
"You didn't," Sarah said and stretched. "It was the book. Darn those noisy pages."
Jareth smiled at her quip and Sarah was shocked by the brilliance of it. She was used to smirks and snide grins, expressions that held secrets and mocked you senseless. She had never seen him so genuinely pleased. Seeing it now compelled her to sit up, thread her fingers through his hair, and kiss him soundly.
"How long have you been up?" she asked, leaning into his side. Jareth wrapped an arm around her, his fingers tangling in the long dark tendrils of her hair.
"Not long," he replied.
"You actually slept," Sarah stated, half surprised. "Good, it's been a while."
"As did you," he observed, his lips finding her ear, pressing warm kisses.
Sarah leaned back into him, smiling at the hesitant way he reached up to brush her cheek with his knuckles, as if completely awed that she was there. "So what's the plan for this morning?"
Jareth sighed in exasperation, work flooding his borderline peaceful mind. "I'm going to speak with the goblins, to prepare them for battle."
"Yikes," Sarah said, thinking of the noisy, bumbling creatures. Somehow she could tell that listening skills did not rate high on their list of abilities. "Good luck with that."
He laughed, a warm rumble against her. "I'm sure I should need it."
Sarah grinned and kissed him once more before moving to search for her discarded clothing. She stepped into the pantaloons and held the corset to her chest.
"Help lace me up?" she asked.
Jareth seemed entirely pleased with the idea. He strode closer and pulled the laces and stays into place until the corset fit as if made for her, molding to every curve.
"Again I ask, teach me," Sarah commented, her voice more than a little breathy, pulling her dress over her head to avoid temptation. She still stood on tiptoes for a kiss.
Jareth drew her closer, mouth yielding and warm, his hands smoothing up her sides and down her back. Sarah shivered when he leaned in and pressed a line of warm kisses against her jaw. They were absolutely addicting.
Sarah sighed, reluctant to pull back, but whispered, "How soon until we need to be out there?"
Jareth growled low in his throat. His blatantly disappointed expression only made her smile. "Too soon."
As much as she wanted to remain there in that tiny tree-house bedroom with him, Sarah felt a potent sense of duty. This place deserves us to help, Sarah thought. She sighed and caught his fingers lightly in hers, pulling him towards the door. Better to rip the bandage off, she thought as they stepped out onto the walkway.
Goblins were already mulling around. Sarah smiled at the sight of so many, and there was the Wiseman and his bird hat, one of the junk ladies who had tried to trap her in that dump. Okay, not all pleasant memories, Sarah thought. She was glad to see them nonetheless.
"Bard was wrong," Sarah said in a pleased whisper as she watched the colorful chaos that surrounded them. "He thought there would be only a dozen at most. Look at this place."
It was teeming with life that had been dormant the previous night. True, the population had been radically reduced, but the sight of so many familiar, colorful faces had Sarah elated.
"You're smiling," Jareth commented, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked her over.
"I love this it here," she replied. Sarah knew judging by his expression that she could not have responded better if she tried.
After a quick breakfast of gritty cakes and berries from the forest that left Sarah desperate for a cup of coffee, Jareth gathered them all inside the largest tree house, detailing the role that each group would play in their attack. Most seemed to understand at least the basics of their part and how to best prepare for it. The smallest group of the smallest goblins, those required to have the most tact and stealth, were a matter all their own.
"You'll go in tonight," Jareth explained, carefully, slowly, and for the third time.
The first time he had spoke, the goblins had become too excited at the prospect of attacking and had thrown one of the chairs out of the window with an ear-splitting battle screech. During his second explanation, a chicken got loose and flapped around until Hoggle was able to leap and catch it, then scold the goblin responsible for the throw. It was clear to Sarah that Jareth was trying his best to not become exasperated, but teetered dangerously close to the edge of this, his jaw set in a hard line.
"You'll plant our secret weapons. I trust you know how to make them," Jareth continued, staring them down.
"Oh, yeah, king-boss-man," one of the goblins piped up. "I can make them. I can make them lickity split. Boom!"
"Then what are you waiting for?" Jareth asked, impatiently. The goblin stood still, swaying a bit and grinned a wide grin, but did not move. Jareth rubbed his brow, but said with patience, "Go make them then." The goblin still stood before him, grinning a self-satisfied, goofy smile. "Now."
The goblin clicked its heels and saluted him before marching out of the large tree-house.
Sarah sat at rapt attention. The last time she'd heard this plan, she had been recovering from one hell of a nightmare. Hearing it again, now, was an invigorating experience.
"Sir Didymus?" Jareth asked.
"Here and ready to serve, your majesty," Didymus said, sweeping into the deepest, most majestic bow that Sarah even knew a fox was capable of.
"Yes, right. You'll be leading the goblins cavalry in, charging the castle once we've discovered its weak points before we attack on foot. I need you for my general, Didymus. Are you capable?" Jareth asked.
Sir Didymus looked so unabashedly flattered that Sarah bit her lip to hide her smile.
"Majesty, this is the deepest honor I have ever known. The most humbling, the greatest—"
"So you accept?" Jareth asked before he could go on.
"Yes," Sir Didymus said gravely with an ostentatious bow, as if he had not been interrupted. "I most certainly do."
"Good, that's settled then," Jareth said in dismissal.
Sarah elbowed him lightly in the ribs for his impatience. When he glanced at her, she smiled brilliantly. At that look, Jareth turned to Hoggle.
"Hoggwart," he spoke.
"Yes, your majesty," Hoggle said, running over, still struggling with the escapee chicken.
"You seem to have an affinity for keeping the goblins—well, not in line, no one keeps them in line—but they have some sort of respect for you," Jareth observed.
"I just tell the little devils when enough's enough," Hoggle said as the chicken squawked and flapped its wings furiously. Hoggle held onto its feet before it could get away and tugged it back into his hold.
"So they do listen to you?" Jareth asked.
"Sometimes, somewhat. Why?" Hoggle asked, narrowing his eyes in distrust.
"I want you to lead them in tonight," Jareth said. "Keep them quiet. You can be quiet, I know that much. See if you can teach them to achieve the same ends."
Hoggle was so surprised that he released the chicken, it let out the loudest squawk yet.
"I've got it, I've got it!" one of the goblins shouted and dove for it.
"Would you stop that?" Hoggle shouted.
The two goblins who had caught the chicken still struggled, but the others stood, not quiet still, but did not bounce so much as before.
"All right then, you've got the job, Hogbrain," Jareth said, leaning down, clapping the dwarf on the back, and then striding out of the tree house.
Sarah almost followed him, but glanced at Hoggle.
"Hoggle?" she asked gently and knelt beside him. He seemed to be in a state of shock. "Hoggle, you okay in there?"
"Sarah," Hoggle said, still a bit dazed.
"Are you scared?" Sarah asked in sympathy. She knew Jareth had given him the job to please her, to show her that he could treat her friends with some measure of respect. Perhaps he had forgotten Hoggle's cowardly tendencies, perhaps he had never truly known about them.
To Sarah's surprise, Hoggle let out a grunt. "Scared? Course not."
"What's wrong then?" Sarah asked.
"I'm surprised is all," Hoggle confirmed. "And then some. This is a real important job, isn't it, Sarah?"
"Yes," Sarah said, smiling again. "Hoggle, it's very important."
"And he…"
"Asked you to do it," Sarah finished. After a terse beat she asked, "Will you?"
"Course I will," Hoggle said with a scoff. "My responsibility, ain't it?"
"I guess it is, Hoggle," Sarah said.
Hoggle for a moment looked almost as pleased as Sir Didymus. The moment passed and he brushed off his visible emotion. "Best be off to find those goblins with the secret weapon. Poor brutes'll be needing my help."
"They probably will," Sarah agreed.
Hoggle gave Sarah another small wave and ran off in the direction of his scouts.
Sarah wandered out of the tree house and paced the walkways, keeping her eye out for a sign of Jareth. She would be fighting too. She knew it. More importantly, she wanted to. The thought of destroying the sickness in the land had her elated, ready.
She grinned as two small goblins chased another chicken down the walkway, nearly barreling over a small, squat, plump old woman with a lined, weatherworn face. She exclaimed and shook her fist at them. The goblins only broke into wild giggles and continued running.
Sarah found the tree house quickly and knocked. Jareth wasn't inside. Sarah ran her fingers fondly across the wood furniture, a lazy exploration. She knelt down beside the bed. Jareth had stacked the books in a neat pile on the bedside floor. One of her own novels had the top spot. That gave her a surge of pride.
He was a menace to books. Pages were dog-eared, paragraphs underlined, and one was even scribbled on in tiny, careful notes. Such a strange man. Such a strange Goblin King.
Sarah flipped to a random page he'd marked in the pile's second book.
"If you ever looked at me once with what I know is in you, I would be your slave," she whispered.
She replaced the book and left the tree house with a knowing smile on her lips.
Sarah finally found Jareth after she'd helped Hoggle wrangle the goblins responsible for the secret weapon. He stood in the clearing beneath the treetops, Sir Didymus and a whole horde of goblins riding armored creatures, just as she had fought on her first trip.
Sarah leaned on the rope railing of the tree house walkway, grinning as she watched Jareth grow more and more frustrated. The goblins were refusing to listen. She got a real shock the first time he kicked one, sending it flying high up into the treetops before falling back down. Sarah bit her tongue and resisted the urge to yell and tell him this was practically abuse.
Then the goblin landed, his helmet askew, laughing like mad. In a moment he was up, shrieking, "Again! Again!"
"Back in line," Jareth instructed.
"Yes, fall in line," Didymus echoed, brandishing his small sword.
Sarah laughed in amazement as the goblins scrambled to comply.
It was a joy to watch him, to see Jareth playing his—what had he called it?—his role so well. He swaggered and postured, he ordered and snarked. More than a part to play, it was a piece of him, just as much as the small proud smile that she alone saw after the goblins successfully ran their practice route.
Insane, gorgeous man, Sarah thought softly. The man she was in love with.
It hadn't been much of a revelation once she had finally admitted it to herself. Delving deep into the passages and secrets within her heart, Sarah saw where the seeds had been planted, just waiting for a cue to take root and grow.
It was nearly sunset when it struck her that they goblins, Sir Didymus, and Jareth had all left the clearing as she was lost in her thoughts.
Arms snaked around her waist, a chin rested on her shoulder, and hair tickled her cheek where he nuzzled her.
"Enjoying the show?"
Sarah smiled, her hands resting over his to interlace their fingers. "Done so soon?"
"Soon? It's been nearly two hours," Jareth said.
"It did take up half the day to explain how this would be going down," Sarah said, turning so that she could face him and take in the uneven pupils. "So yeah, this is soon."
"Only one thing left to do," Jareth replied softly.
Sarah leaned in and brushed her mouth across his before catching his lower lip between her teeth, suckling softly and giving it a small nip.
Jareth made a small noise in his throat, shook his head, and kissed the tip of her nose before she could go in for another try. "No, precious."
Sarah pouted in protest as he began walking, her hand clutched tightly in his.
"Where are we going then?" she asked.
"You'll see."
He was leading her back toward that large tree house. Inside, it was barely larger than the one he'd been given. It was mostly empty space with some mismatched chairs made of everything from sleek oak to what looked like wicker and cushions lining the walls to sit, a meeting room of sorts.
"Okay, explain," Sarah said when he went to a small trunk flanked by two cushions and began rummaging.
Jareth withdrew holding two thin, shiny blades, each with a delicate handle. He walked to where she stood at the entrance and held one to her.
"You need to learn how to defend yourself," he said.
"And you're going to teach me this in one night?" Sarah asked.
"Well, I was planning on teaching you in one afternoon," Jareth said, and added a bit bitterly, "I had other plans for tonight."
"That sounds way more fun than fencing," Sarah said, wrinkling her nose as she cradled the weapon in her hands. It felt foreign and clumsy in her grasp, the blade of the sword seemed too long for its thinness, the handle too ornate. "Why can't I just use torches and matches for this?"
"You will," Jareth replied. "But you should be prepared. They may be armed and if they are you'll need to weaken the changelings when they're wearing their stolen skin."
"It won't weaken them much," Sarah said with a frown.
"Which is why it was to take only one afternoon," Jareth said glibly. "Now, do what I do."
He moved into a starting position as if taking a breath, his hand raised, the saber pointed toward her.
Sarah felt silly as she mimicked him, rolling her eyes when she took the position. Jareth bit back a laugh.
"Yes, I look stupid," Sarah confirmed, still holding the position as she shook her hair out of her eyes. "Don't rub it in."
"Here," Jareth leaned the sword against the wall and came closer. He began to re-position her arms. "Don't hold it so low, the weight distribution is wrong, you'll drop it when you try to parry."
"Hey, don't use terms yet, just say 'block'."
Jareth frowned. "But you already know what it means."
"Please, say 'block'," Sarah implored.
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, but he did so adoringly.
Jareth knelt at her feet and dragged one slightly forward, pushed her back heel down and stood. "Better."
It felt better, more balanced. Sarah took an experimental thrust forward. The sword moved smoothly, as if it were water in a stream.
Jareth instructed her on basic moves. Little things that would give her an edge over her opponent. They were so minuscule, Sarah had a hard time believing that holding her blade just a quarter-inch left on attack, or keeping her shoulder from dropping on the retreat would help much, but Jareth seemed convinced.
"Very good," Jareth commented as she finished another simple move, retrieving his sword and taking up the same position. His lips curled into a smile. "Now, attack me."
Sarah's eyes widened at the suggestion. "You sure?"
"I trust you," he stated, a bit more serious than need be, but it was his tone that convinced her.
Sarah took another tentative thrust at him, in an instant he had blocked her before turning with a flourish and attacking. He was holding back, Sarah could tell, he knew what he was doing. Jareth went slow, each move toward her gave her enough time to plan her next.
"Very good," he said, the blades meeting between each word. "Can you handle any more?"
"Try me," Sarah said, a bit more flippantly than she should have.
In an instant, he was moving a hair faster, a bit flashier, blades clinking at every turn. Sarah was at first shocked by the onslaught, but caught sight of his face. Show off, she thought, fully intending to wipe away that grin.
She attacked with new fervor, more viciousness than technique, but matching his pace and imitating the small flourishes he seemed to be doing with his blade. Jareth's eyes sparkled in pleased surprise. He was enjoying this, reveling in her improvement.
"How am I doing?" Sarah asked, now on the assault for the first time instead of the retreat.
"Wonderful," he told her softly. He was proud of her, it made her heart swell.
"Give me all you've got then," Sarah said. Jareth's eyes widened. He knew just as well as she did that she couldn't handle it, but no one would be holding back on a battlefield. Sarah wanted to know what it felt like.
"Sarah, are you sure?" he asked, blocking her again and only slightly increasing his speed forward.
"Do it," she told him.
Jareth nodded and in an instant was flying toward her, the blade ferocious in his hands. Sarah did her best as he attacked, still sticking with his earlier techniques, but soon he had overpowered her. Her sword clattered out of her hands and the tip of his blade was at her throat.
"Wow," Sarah said, panting. "How did you do that?"
"Years of experience." Jareth withdrew the blade, looking a bit grim. "Luckily, most of the creatures will lack this kind of skill."
"You've got that right," Sarah said, rubbing her throat, her breathing still ragged. "So, how did I do?"
Jareth only kissed her, hands cradling her face, and thumbs pressing lightly into her skin.
She knew she'd done well.
That night, Jareth slept serenely, his head pillowed on her chest. Sarah wished she could follow him into sleep, but she was too anxious for what they were to do in a few hours time. She smiled at Jareth, loving his peacefulness as her hands traced patterns up and down his naked back.
"Sarah," he muttered in his sleep, shifting against her before rolling off.
"Mmhm?"
Sarah propped herself up on an elbow. Her long dark hair fell in a sheet across his chest. It smelled like soap scented with flowers from the forest. Sarah breathed it in deeply. Every piece of her was becoming like the Labyrinth. What about Toby, and Dad, and Karen? Sarah thought, biting her lip, what will I do once this is all over?
"Love you, Sarah," Jareth finally replied, his breathing still even and calm.
I love you too, she thought with a smile, I love you so much.
She couldn't leave him. She wouldn't.
With that her mind was made up. Her time with Derrick had left her friendless in the world Above, here she had the greatest friends of her childhood. This was the place where Jareth was, that alone was enough reason to stay. She would say goodbye to her family, but she was staying here. It had always been her home.
It would always be the Labyrinth.
With that thought in mind, Sarah leaned down and kissed Jareth's brow, his cheek, his mouth. She lingered there, pressing her lips to his again, and molded herself against his side. Never had she felt more peaceful, more loved, than that moment. Jareth's arms encircled her on instinct and his face buried in her flower scented hair, her name on his lips.
In sleep she still had nightmares.
Author's Note: The quote in this chapter is from Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights. Thanks for such an amazing response to that last chapter in reviews, favorites, and follows. Glad to hear you thought it was worth the wait. Thank you to DieKochbar, KristinaJ, comical freaka, Kaytori, Kilikina12, a Guest, Zayide, and iknowyou2 for reviewing. I love hearing your thoughts, comments, and opinions about the story. Please R&R.