And now the next bit...sorry this is a bit hard...
Please read and review. FY.A
It was a few hours later that the Labyrinth crept up through the soil of the tomb where she had lain hidden during the struggles. She crept into the mind of her sleeping king, feeling the crippling pain that had engulfed his soul. The guilt that she felt at her initial jealousy of Sarah grew, threatening to overpower her. She fled from his body and watched from a distance as the two figures lay together, one chilled, and the other never to be warm again. She sent tendrils to the outer reaches of her physical being, and deciding that she could afford to grieve for a short while longer, slunk back beneath the grassy mound to enter into pain ridden negotiations within aspects of herself.
And it was perhaps a few hours after that, that Jareth wearily opened his blurry eyes, wondering what had woken him. His whole body ached and the weight of grief had settled into his heart as though it had always been there. He rolled so as to face away from Sarah, as though if he did not look at her, it could not be true. He pulled his knees up to his chest and shut his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill from beneath his lids.
The knocking that had awoken him sounded again. Grief turned to anger in an instant as Jareth sat up, wondering who could possibly be disturbing him. He wanted to be alone with Sarah. No, he reminded himself, he wanted to be alone. He looked round, his eyes flashing dangerously; signalling death to any goblin tat dared approach.
A third time the knocking resonated from beneath him. Jareth felt himself freeze as cold tendrils of horror crept through his. The knocking was coming from inside the tomb. Slowly he unfolded himself from where he lay; feeling the blood surge back into his cold, stiff limbs. He forced himself not to look at Sarah, but strode across the top of the tomb and down the side to where the large stone seal was set in the grassy wall. He crouched down in front of it, staring hard before putting his ear against the rock. He listened hard for a few moments.
Nothing.
Wait.
Something.
A dry, rasping noise, brittle and laboured. Breathing. Jareth jerked his head away in shock, staring in confusion at the solid stone. The beautiful fae figure stared back at him, his kind eyes looking into Jareth's, his stone lips blowing gently over the top of his set of pipes. Jareth blinked. He forced his memory back to the moment that he first saw this carving, as Old Father Time had chased him and he thought all hope was lost. Hope is lost; he thought dully, Sarah is gone. He tried to picture the carving again. He could not be sure, but he had the distinct impression that Pan had not been playing the pipes, but had been leaning against a tree of his own creation, contemplating his instrument thoughtfully. Jareth looked back at the carving. Pan was definitely playing them now.
Jareth raised his fingers and traced the stone figure in wonderment. At his touch, it began to glow. Gradually the brightness grew and Jareth stepped away from the seal-stone, shielding his face form the blaze. The light drew back with him, connected by a thread of fire to the medallion at his chest. Jareth could feel his face burning and yet he could no longer step away, the connection holding him in place. He threw up his arms to cover his face, shielding himself from the scorching heat. He fell to his knees as his trembling legs gave way beneath him and he accepted, for the second time that day, that this was how he would die.
And then the heat was gone. Slowly, Jareth raised his head. Before him, haloed by the morning sun, stood a figure, so tall that Jareth would barely reach the shoulder. The skin was the deep brown of one who is exposed to the elements, the muscles strong and defined, telling of hard toil. The shoulders were broad, firm and solid. The feet were bare, toes separated as of one who rarely wore shoes. Framing the face was a mass of thick, auburn hair that fell freely down past the man's shoulders. But it was the face that held Jareth's attention, caught his breath held him rapt. The high cheekbones and finely framed jaw told of nobility and beauty. The nose was thin, but running flat to the face, giving more the impression of a wild animal than that of a man or fae. And the eyes. Oh the eyes. They were slanted like those of a cat and held within them the deepest capacity for cruelty, and for kindness. They held contradiction of the highest sort, and yet Jareth trusted them implicitly. One was of the clearest blue of the morning sky, the other the deepest black of the most haunted night. Jareth blinked his own mismatched eyes wordlessly, staring up at the figure of Pan.
After what seemed like an age, he eventually broke the silence.
"My Lord," he whispered bowing his head.
"Jareth," the ancient voice rasped across the ages. "My son."
Jareth bowed his head again.
"You awake me from my long sleep."
Jareth could think of no reply. Those eyes were staring so deeply into his soul.
"You have won and yet you grieve. My Labyrinth told me of your loss."
Although Pan did not offer condolences, his words were balm on Jareth's aching heart. For the first time since the spiders had vanished, he felt he could breathe again. He raised his eyes and tried to match his usually sure stare to that which was the extreme of his own.
"You are strong Jareth, and you are brave. My Labyrinth loves you very much. She told me while she crouched with me that you are the most important one, the most loving one towards her, since I myself." Pan's strong fingers caressed his pipes gently, lovingly. "She is my remaining song, my soul in freedom. She is me and she is of me. I created her. I could not bear her to feel pain. And yet she writhes in your agony. You are twisting my heart Jareth."
Jareth ducked his head, unable to face the sympathetic accusation in that gaze any longer.
"Take me to her."
Numbly, Jareth shook his head. Somewhere in his subconscious, he was aware of the Labyrinth's return as she slunk out from behind her Lord and Master, breathing life back into the world around them. The sun shone brighter and the grass waved gently in the breeze. The part that the Labyrinth occupied in Jareth's soul became filled again, whispering words of comfort. Bu the hole in his heart was too big for the Labyrinth to fill. She could not block his pain. His legs were trembling again and his vision was blurring with unshed tears. He could not take Pan to Sarah. He could not.
"Jareth," and the voice was firmer this time, "take me to her."
Like a sleep walker, Jareth led the way up the hill. He paused as he reached the brow, staring properly for the first time at the body of his wife. He felt a hand on his shoulder, heavy and reassuring. Together, the stared at the immobile body. Eventually, Pan shifted beside Jareth, but Jareth did not turn his head. It was as though now that he had looked, he could not look away.
"What would you do to save her?" Pan's voice was smooth and yet it cut through Jareth like a knife in his heart.
"She is beyond saving now," he whispered, his voice catching as his emotion threatened to overwhelm him.
"What would you do to save her?" Pan asked again and his fingers curled round Jareth's shoulders until his long nails cut through the fabric of his shirt and punctured into his skin. Jareth revelled in the pain. He could understand it. It felt real.
"Anything," he muttered, tearing his gaze from Sarah's prone body to stare fixedly at the grass before him.
"Yours has been an existence riddled with loss, pain and betrayal. Your mother ripped from the heart of your family when you were but a boy. Your father mercilessly butchered and paraded before your eyes. You succeeded to an impossible throne for a warrior to control, when you were hardly a man yourself. You were betrayed by those you loved."
"Raemon," spat Jareth. And suddenly the tears were falling freely as he recalled Sarah's last hours. Not those of comfort but those of pain, torture and fear. His mother screaming for him to save her from the pain, while he could do nothing. His uselessness and impotency, his cowardice before his father's death. He could have done more. But now they were all dead. All those he truly loved. Dead.
"But that's what makes you different Jareth. That's what makes you stronger. You can love."
"After my father was killed," Jareth began, his voice cracking, "after they killed him...I didn't care if I lived or died. I threw myself with such passion because I didn't care if it led to my death. And so I won. Because I refused to be a coward again. I served my Kingdom and I loved the Labyrinth. In time I found I could forgive the goblin race, as I found that they were like me. I had played with them when I was young. I understood that they, like me, were governed by things beyond their control. So I existed. But that was all. And I did not feel guilt because guilt would have broken me. But she..." his voice broke as his eyes travelled back to Sarah's body, "...she gave me meaning. She gave me life. She gave me love. Unconditional, not like the goblins. For me. She understood that I am cruel...not human. Not like her. And now..."
"Would you really do anything?"
Jareth nodded his head dumbly, knowing he couldn't live without her, knowing that he had to. He couldn't give up on his people that needed him.
"Would you give her up?"
"What?"
"Would you give her up to let her live? Return her to her old life. Aboveground. Let her forget you, fall in love, live out her natural life and die as an old woman. Could you do that Jareth? Could you do that...really?"
Jareth thought of how it had felt to know Sarah was there, just out of his reach after she returned with Toby from the Labyrinth on her first visit. He recalled the heartache; the twisting feelings of jealousy that had made him hurl his crystal into the stone walls, storm at the goblins and sweep food from the tables of the hungry. He thought of the hope that had kept him sane, a beacon of light in the darkness of his existence. Could he relive that pain without that hope? He imagined flying in owl form to her bedroom window. Watching her make love to a man that was not him. Seeing her bring life that was not part of him. He thought of her growing old, the fire in her green eyes fading and her resolve weakening as she was swept away in a tide of confusion, forward in a world to which she no longer belonged. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands. And could he watch her die, her children that were not his gathered around her, his name far from her lips. Unrecalled. Unknown. And what if, in that moment, she had chanced to look from her hospital window, and see the grey white owl watching her. What if, in that second, he caught a spark of recognition? Too late. Too long ago. Now and forever more. He had promised her a forever. Could he live that forever without her? Could he let her return? He looked over at Sarah's prone and lifeless body, alone atop a tomb in the most ancient graveyard of them all. And he knew the answer.
Wordlessly, he nodded his head.
"Jareth," came Pan's voice from beside him, "there is another way. Jareth let me show you something."
Pan lifted Jareth's hand and placed it so that he could feel the steady rhythm of his own beating heart. Jareth looked at him, not comprehending. Pan guided Jareth's hand to rest against his own naked chest. There was no heart beat. No breath. The skin was warm and smooth beneath his fingers and he could feel muscle ripple as Pan shifted his stance. But there was no life signal. Jareth stared up into Pan's eyes in astonishment.
"Let me show you," Pan repeated and Jareth noticed for the first time that Pan was speaking into his thoughts, his lips unmoving. Pan slid his hands down Jareth's arms, threading his fingers through his, holding his hands gently in his own. "Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Reach for that magical charge in the air around you. Don't think about it. Feel it. Listen to the wind. Feel the soil. Touch the life."
And all at once Jareth felt it. The life of the Labyrinth, more intimately than he had ever done before. He felt her mind caressing his body with her fingers of warmth. The wind came in deep sighs, as though through the parted lips of a lover and her heartbeat coursed through the ground giving life to the soil. There was a sweet scent, of peaches and moss, and when he opened his eyes the world around him shone with the glow of powerful life force.
"This is my heartbeat. This is my breath."
Jareth stared into the ancient eyes that looked down at him in wonderment at the magic this being, this powerful fae had wrought. Pan spoke into his head as his eyes bored into his soul.
"You knew of the magic Jareth. All those years ago. Yet you still denied it because you refused to believe that we would be here today. You refused to believe what you did not want to believe. Refused you could succumb to what you saw as a weakness. Love. But prophesies have a way of working themselves out. "
Jareth thought of the young Sarah, desperate to reach her brother. Desperate to save another person. In that moment, she would have done anything. And she had. She had jumped. She had beaten him. A smile flitted across Jareth's lips at the thought of the young and feisty Sarah, so full of life, lost in his illusion. Love without your heartbeat. I...I...can't live within you..."
"They were just words," Jareth muttered.
"But her heartbeat is gone...and yet you still want her to love."
"I'm not worthy. I'm a jealous lovesick fae. I kick goblins for pleasure.
"Because they enjoy it too. You would have given her up. You would have given your life for my Labyrinth. You chose I bride who gave hers."
"She was chosen long before either of us were born."
"Yet you were not so selfish as to deny it. Never doubt you are worthy Jareth. Labyrinth loves you. She cannot bear to see you thus broken. And so for her, if for no other reason, the ancient magic shall be invoked once more this day. Hand me my sword."
Awestruck by the power commanded in Pan's being, by his generosity, by his love, Jareth tugged the Labyrinthian sword from the soil and handed it to its master. A ripple of energy swept through the graveyard as Pan's hand closed round the hilt. The blade began to glow gently. Pan stepped forward and knelt reverently beside Sarah's body.
"My Lady," Pan spoke aloud, "I owe you thanks. Please, accept my gift."
He rose and reached for Jareth's hands, drawing the blade of the sword lightly across his palms. As he did so, identical wounds opened on Sarah's hands, but as the black blood began to leak down Jareth's fingers, Sarah's wounds gaped, bloodless from the lack of circulation. Pan raised the blade again and drew the edge down the middle of Jareth's lips, opening a cut that matched the one appearing down Sarah's blue lips.
"Share your lifeblood Jareth. Share your life."
Jareth knelt slowly, the hot blood sticky on his face and hands. He linked his fingers through Sarah's pressing the wounds together. Gradually, he lowered his lips to hers, closing his eyes as they made contact. As his blood streamed into her open wounds, Pan faded slowly back through the grassy tomb to his resting place in the earth.
The Labyrinth wrapped her arms round her King as he embraced his love, caressing him with tendrils of comfort.
"Take her home My King," she whispered.
Jareth wrapped his arms round Sarah's still inert body and reached for his magic.
All at once, everything in the meadow graveyard was peaceful again. Stillness returned and the sorrow receded. The graves lay silently, sentinels on watch. Secret keepers who would never betray a trust. Kings of harmony, queens of calm. The hopeful, the wishful, and the lovers. All bearing witness to the power and majesty of the one who lay at their centre, and the great respect he held for the King of the Goblins, who resembled him so strikingly.
And in the castle, where the Labyrinth had returned, the same Goblin King laid his wife in his own soft bed, leaning down to kiss the pulse point, as it made its first flicker in the column of her neck.
In case anyone is wondering, this is still not the end...there is a bit more. Thanks to all my lovely reviewers. And today there is a public thankyou shout to tichtich2! Thanks for the all the great reviews! Love your style! And thanks to everyone else who has reviewed/added alerts/favourite story etc. You keep me going...so I love you all!
Lots of luv FY.A xxx