A/N: Hi all! Once again I apologise for the time it takes me to update, I think that an average of two weeks between new chapters is what you should expect from me from now on. My last week has been even more hectic than ever, and full of mixed emotions: on Saturday my grandmother passed away unexpectedly, and two hours later my second nephew was born. Crazy old life, isn't it? So I've been a little caught up. But to business: you are about to go throw a bit of emotional turmoil, as ever. There's a bit of blood and swearing, but nothing graphic. Just a warning. Hope you enjoy. Thank you all again for the incredible, kind, supportive comments that I received for this story that give me the biggest fuzzy feels whenever I read them!
Chapter Ten: chaos in sacrifice
She'd always liked the gardens in the Palace. They comforted her in a way nothing else could. The spiralling vines and blooming buds served as a reminder of her purpose in life: to maintain order. For without order there was chaos. And in chaos her people faced death. And without Fae…there would be no one to Harvest the Dreams. Her reality would cease to exist. Mira often sought the company of the gardens when this pressure was irking her. After speaking with Jareth she was anxious, afraid of the devotion in her son's eyes. How could she have let this awful play go on for as long as it had? She should have forced abdication on him long ago rather than try to save her reputation the long way around. With an angry frown Mira crushed a violet in her palm and let it fall to the grass beneath her feet. Her son was perilously close to causing a revolution in his Kingdom that would endanger their entire reality, all for a girl.
Though admittedly in the Domain's history, wars had started over things as foolish as love. Her own mother was a prime example: bearing a child out of wedlock during a time of great civil dysfunction. The birth of the child had started a war between two nations that had lasted two hundred years. Mira had been there, had watched her new half-sister be killed for the sake of preserving the family line. It was then, at just twenty years old, that she'd vowed never to let emotion affect her purpose in life. She'd been quick enough to dissuade Lina from such mistakes, but Jareth…if she'd known her children would cause such turmoil she'd never have had them. Better to choose a successor from outside than risk destruction at the hands of her own flesh and blood.
Her skin began to crawl with the sensation of a promise being upheld. She didn't need to inspect her vow mark to know it would be glowing. The Williams girl had done well, but Mira knew that it was Jareth who had taken the final plunge unasked. She'd known from the look on his face that he would die for that human…and he would have to, now, to restore order. Closing her eyes, Mira leant back against the wall and inhaled the heady scent of the flowers around her. It will all be over soon, she thought tiredly. She stroked the mark on her wrist and waited to hear Jareth's confession. As soon as it was spoken he would be drawn to her and they could begin the process. What she heard was not quite what she expected. It was poetic and wordy, not the simple proclamation she'd been waiting for. Yet it rang true, proof as real as there had ever been, the sound of Jareth's voice pure and honest. It was heartfelt, and sweet, but it would condemn him nonetheless.
The dream was at once familiar yet different.
This time she watched herself huddling in the cage as Jareth stood on the outside impassively.
"Please," whispered the caged Sarah from the floor.
"Please what?" asked Jareth with little emotion.
"Don't let me out. Don't release me."
"I can't leave you in there."
"But you know what I've done to you."
"I wanted it to happen."
She watched as Jareth knelt before the cage and pressed his cheek against the bars. His voice had cracked with pain. Sarah longed to intervene, knowing how it would end, but something was keeping her still and silent against her will.
"Did you?" snapped the Sarah in the cage. "Did you want it to happen like this?"
"Never." He slipped a hand between the bars and reached out for her. "Let me help you."
"No!" Her voice was ragged with torment. "I know what you'll do if you help me!"
Sarah was helpless as she watched Jareth straining to grasp hold of the Sarah in the cage, who backed away further into the corner.
"I will help you!" Jareth roared. Taking back his hand he withdrew a knife from his coat and without hesitation slit his own throat. Blood spurted, both Sarahs screamed –
The hand she threw out into the dark upon waking found nothing. For a heartbeat she felt dizzying relief, terrified she might have clutched Jareth's dead body. Then the room lit up, as the castle did when she needed it to, and she shivered at the sight of his empty pillow. The sheets on his side were cold under inspection, meaning he hadn't just left to use the bathroom. Trying to remember how to breathe, Sarah sat up and looked around at the room she now felt horrifically alone in. Jareth was gone. Gone. She spied something on the nightstand, a folded piece of paper. Flooded with trepidation, Sarah licked her dry lips and collected the note.
It was parchment, smooth and cool to the touch. The handwriting was his, from the looping curve of the vowels to the flourished tick over the 'I's.
I know why you are suffering with indecision, pet. For once I am happy to take the choice away from you. Because you weren't awake to hear, these are the things you couldn't let me say:
"Then seek not, sweet, the 'if' and 'why', I love you now until I die. For I must love because I live and life in me is what you give."
The poem was unfamiliar but it was all so typical of Jareth that she burst violently into tears. They were searing tears of anger and frustration, spilling onto the paper and blurring the words. Sarah crumpled the paper and pressed it against her heart.
"This isn't what I meant you idiot!" she cried in dismay. "I never wanted this!"
She sat for a moment, lost and drowning in loss, feeling a hundred different things. "You stupid, beautiful, selfless fucking idiot…" she sniffed, drying her eyes. What happened now? She hadn't even thought about it. Was Jareth in a cell somewhere, awaiting trial? Was he already being sentenced? What was she supposed to do? Sarah had never been the kind of woman to feel lesser without a man. The sensation she felt now was certainly nothing to do with needing validation. It took nothing away from her own sense of self. What she felt was loss, plain and simple. The notion of Jareth's permanent absence stirred such a panic in her heart that she couldn't think straight. He'd been here and now he wasn't – just as if he'd died. Well, she was sick of death and a little sick of life too.
Someone knocked on the door.
At first she ignored it. There weren't many guesses as to who it could be, with the goblins her only visitors. None of whom knew what she'd done and to whom she didn't feel like explaining.
"Miss Williams? May I enter?"
That was not one of the voices she'd expected. It was polite and clear, polished and meek but she knew it all the same. "Wick?" she called, mouth dry.
There was a muffled shuffling on the other side of the door. "We ain't got time for manners! Sarah, we're comin' in! It's important!" shouted the gruff voice of Hoggle.
Sarah looked down at her naked self and jumped into action. "Just wait a second!" She cast around wildly for her scattered clothes and pulled them on, momentarily stilled by the unfamiliar weight of Jareth's pendant against her chest. Tucking it gently beneath her shirt she berated herself for not realising why he'd given it to her. But with little time for further self-directed anger Sarah raced to the door. Wrenching it open, the faces she met were all expected save for one. Hoggle, Ludo and Didymus all moved aside to make room for the Elf to step forward. Her breath caught in her throat. "What did they do to you?" she whispered.
Wick's eyes were purpled and ringed by shadows. His feint smile betrayed a split lip. Something thick and blue had dripped from his nose and been smeared roughly away. There was no spirit in his dim eyes, no familiar smirk on that gaunt face. But the worst thing was how he looked at her: totally oblivious, completely unaware that anything was wrong.
"I've been sent to take you home now, Miss," he said in a voice utterly distanced from its beaten body.
"He ain't no good like this, is he?" said Hoggle, jerking a finger at the Elf. "Found him wanderin' outside your rooms callin' for you. He won't turn back into the other fella. The sharp one."
"He can't," Sarah murmured, horrified, unable to take her eyes off Wick. "He's been Severed, Hoggle. Because of me."
The word made her friends all shudder silently. "Oh, your poor fellow," Didymus bemoaned. "Such a cruel fate for such a good soul."
"Ludo sad," said the big goblin, patting Wick on the shoulder with such a heavy hand that the Elf buckled at the knees.
"I assure you I'm in peak serving condition, Miss," he told her hurriedly. "No need to worry. I'll soon have you home without a fuss."
"We aren't going home Wick," Sarah replied firmly. "You're not taking me anywhere. I'm going to see Jareth."
"But I've been given clear directions by the Queen!" Wick replied, clearly affronted. "I must take you Above right away."
"He's been babblin' on about this since we found him," Hoggle grumped. "What in the Fate's design is goin' on, Sarah? How comes the Queen knows you're here?"
"In a minute," she dismissed him, ushering them into Jareth's bedroom. "First I need to figure out how to get to wherever Jareth is." Wick opened his mouth to speak but she hushed him. "You're not helping me; I've gotten you into enough trouble as it is."
"I daresay his Majesty will be in the Palace dungeons, considering his recent arrest," said Didymus soberly.
Ignoring Wick's attempts at protest, Sarah shot a look at the goblin. "How do you know that already?"
"All us goblins know when big things are goin' on with the King," Hoggle answered. "We're all linked to him. But they ain't yet told us what he's been arrested for."
"For being in love with me," Sarah answered bitterly. "I was threatened by the Queen into getting under Jareth's skin so he would admit it. But I changed my mind. I told him not to say it." The thought of him sitting in a cell somewhere, his regal self completely out of place in a musty cage, made her ache. "And he went and did it anyway. I've ruined so many people's lives, Hoggle." Tears threatened to overwhelm her again but she fought them. "I have to see him."
"What would you have us do, fair Lady?" Didymus asked. "Storm the Palace? Break free the King and see you safely on your way together?"
There was such genuine eagerness in his voice that Sarah almost laughed at the irony. That was exactly what she felt like doing. But what chance was there of that ending well?
"Don't be stupid!" Hoggle snapped. "We ain't takin' you anywhere near that place. You'll be killed just as fast as you can say oubliette."
Ludo's beady eyes widened and he rested a pleading hand on Sarah's arm with a frightened groan.
"Besides all that, I've been told to take you home," Wick added. "Which I must do now or the Queen will be very displeased."
"Will she hurt you again?" Sarah asked quietly, turning her attention back to the Elf. "You've been punished for helping me before, do you remember? She Severed you."
"I've no recollection of the event," Wick replied blankly. "All I know is that I must see to my duties."
"Not for long," she told him. "I'll get her to reverse it. I don't know how, but I will. I promise, Wick."
The Elf just stared at her blankly and tapped a foot. "I'm perfectly fine, Miss. Now will you let me take you home?"
Rolling her eyes, Sarah ignored him and looked to the goblins. "How am I going to get to the dungeons in the Palace?"
"You ain't, I said!" Hoggle snapped. "The trial of a Goblin King ain't no event for a human to get mixed up in."
Ludo's urgent hand on her arm indicated he was of a similar opinion, so Sarah flicked her gaze to Didymus. "How about you Sir Didymus? How can I get –"
"I suggest we lay siege –!"
"Without laying siege, or storming in, or making any loud obnoxious entrance that would draw attention to us?" she interrupted with surprising patience. So far he was the only one willing to help and it wouldn't do any good to shout at him.
The little goblin twitched his moustache and blinked, thrown off his train of thought. "Oh, well, erm…" he scratched at his ear in contemplation. "I suppose, if the more obvious methods aren't to your liking…we could attempt a subtle entrance via the West Forest."
Ludo threw his head back and groaned in dismay, covering his little eyes with those giant clawed hands.
Hoggle's eyes were fit to pop right out of his head. "The West Forest!" he spluttered. "Oh why don't yer just skin us alive now and save them creatures the trouble!"
"What's the West Forest?" Sarah asked. "If it's a way to the Palace, I'll take it."
"What little Mr Bog-for-Brains there is suggestin'," Hoggle cried, "Is a suicide mission. Gettin' to the West Forest means crossin' through the Goblin City!"
As quickly as the flicker of hope came it was snuffed out. "Through the City?" Sarah said warily. "That's the only way?"
"Not necessarily, my Lady," Didymus piped up. "We could do as you attempted to do a few months ago and simply scale the Walls. I would of course cut a path through those devilish monsters for you in a heartbeat – but as you desire a less conspicuous approach…"
"So we'd run around the edge of the City and then through this forest and we'd be there?" Sarah could hardly breathe, she was brimming with equal parts hope and absolute terror.
"You say it like you weren't almost ripped apart the last time you tried it," Hoggle growled, pacing the floor. "Why do you reckon this time would be different?"
"What other choice have I got?" Sarah snapped. "I won't let Wick take me and I can't just ask the Queen to escort me to her son, can I?"
"Sawah," Ludo rumbled. "City dangerous."
"I know that big boy," she said softly with a pat to his arm. "But I have to see him. I have to make things right somehow. This is all my fault."
"What will you do, Miss?" Wick said quietly. "How do you plan on negating the trial of a King?"
"I have no idea," she replied determinedly. "But I'm not going home."
"Sarah, you'll die," Hoggle said pleadingly.
"Yeah I might," she answered. "But that's the way it is."
Her candour seemed to stun them all into thoughtful silence.
"Well then, I suppose I'll have to come with you," Wick murmured, resigned but petrified.
"What? No, none of you are coming with me," Sarah said. "There's no way I'm letting you get ripped apart by goblins."
"If I go back to the Queen without completing my task, I may as well hand myself to them," Wick said. "I have been forbidden from serving any others, so I couldn't take you to the Palace if I wanted to. But I have no desire to fail the Queen."
"And you can think again if you reckon we're lettin' you do this alone," Hoggle grumbled. "Coward or not, I ain't seein' you turned into goblin fodder."
"But –"
"There's no point in arguing!" cried Didymus. "I'm afraid you've found yourself a band of fighters, sweet maiden, and we will not rest until we have helped you in your quest!"
"Foolish as it is," mumbled the Dwarf-goblin.
"He's my soul mate, Hoggle," Sarah said plainly. It was overwhelming, the reality of what she would do for Jareth and what her friends would do for her. This secret world of hers was a strange mix of cruelty and kindness. "I can't let him suffer for me and I can't let his sister be put on that throne after all the years he's fought to keep her away."
"I ain't sayin' I won't do it," the Dwarf-goblin replied indignantly. "Just lettin' you know that I ain't happy about it!"
"Then it's settled," she said firmly, wondering if they could hear the quiver in her voice or the desperate pounding of her heart. "Let's go."
"You won't get far in a Fae Palace looking like a human," Wick told her, helping reluctantly. "You'll need some sort of disguise."
Sarah caught her reflection in the mirror and studied herself. There was no one here to transform her into Ilyena…but that wasn't to say they couldn't get creative. As long as it was done quickly. Hurrying to the desk by the window, Sarah snatched up the ink pot and quill. She held them aloft for her companions to eye questioningly.
"Who's got steady hands?"
Jareth was reminiscing. There was little else to do when you were waiting to die. Thrust unceremoniously into a cell that blocked his powers, how else was he meant to pass the time? Mira hadn't given him much time to ruminate once he'd spoken the words. His confession had drawn him to her throne like poison from a wound, ripping him away from Sarah's warm embrace. Kneeling at his mother's feet he'd said nothing, agreeing silently to the terms of his arrest as she read them out. You are to be held without reprieve until your trial. You will surrender the use of magic once entering your cell. You will ready no defence and meet with nobody. When the Council has assembled we will call on you for the trial, the details of which will be broadcast to the hordes. You will accept your sentence with dignity and allow it to pass without interruption. So it has been since the Birth of All Things, so shall it be until the Last Days. These are the terms of your arrest, Jareth El'Maven.
He hoped he was human in his next life. Or a Dwarf. Surely they had a much nicer time of it than a Fae. Bored of the sight of his chilly grey cell Jareth closed his eyes. His back was stiff and cold against the bare wall; he stretched and tried to settle comfortably into the stone with little luck. Frowning, he leant his head back and concentrated on measured breathing. In: he and Lina were children, splashing through a stream chasing tiny red fish. Out: Lina's hair has faded; it was so vibrant before she entered the Dust Bowl. In: she was twenty and trying to tell him of the boy she'd kissed; he couldn't understand her desire to do such a thing. Out: I wonder if she still misses Kiff after all this time. In: she was mad at him for studying so much; he didn't spend as much time with her as he once did. Out: I regret every paper I ever read instead of watching you kick up dust.
It was calming for a time, thinking of his life and his sister and the good things he'd done. Despite the nasty mess of the last two centuries he'd had quite a pleasant first one hundred years. There were many sweet memories to lull him into a state of relaxation. Or as close to relaxed as one could get, awaiting execution. Whenever his nerves threatened to begin their fraying Jareth would think hard of Sarah and remind himself he was doing it for her. Vaguely his words from long ago came to mind:
"…and I have done it all for you. I'm exhausted from living up to your expectations of me."
Maybe he was exhausted, but only by the Fae Domain and its sickly trappings. Never by Sarah. He moved the stars for Sarah.
"Perhaps I'll become a star," he mused quietly. Glittering in the total peace of silent space above a beautifully human world, with Sarah gazing up at him each night…it wouldn't be a badsort of existence. The stone was grating against his spine once more. With a grunt Jareth shifted position, drawn out of his reverie by discomfort. Couldn't they have provided a nicer cell for a King? He almost wished they would just get it over with but no, like anything to do with his accursed people, they took their time when it came to matters of politics. There was no such thing as a quick fix, even for a matter as dire as this. He wondered who would be appointed his replacement. With a bitter smirk he thought of the old bat Ezra and her equally unlikable descendants. Surely there was a stiff face in that nasty gene pool that would do well for a Goblin King or Queen. In the end, it would make no difference to him. The dead tended not to be bothered by matters of the living.
It was easy to convince herself this was the best plan: all she wanted to do was get to Jareth and no Goblin City was going to stop her. It was a little more difficult getting her body to respond as eagerly. Sarah's knees knocked together with nerves, her fingers curling and uncurling into fists. Her sweaty palms made it tricky to get a steady grip on the stone as Ludo hoisted her up the City Wall. It won't be like the first time, she told herself firmly. You look like a Fae now. Well, as Fae as they could manage under pressure: Wick had painted markings around her eyes with the ink and she'd found a simple black dress in her closet. It wasn't practical for their endeavour but it would help to blend in later on. And you have the others. Just move quickly and quietly. Still, she couldn't help tensing up as she scrambled onto the ledge of the Wall. The City wasn't quite as menacing in the light of day, thankfully. The streets were apparently empty, with no sign of a goblin anywhere. Hoggle had mentioned this possibility, that the creatures might be gathered in the City heart listening to hear what happened to the King. The stronger the messages about him, the more they tended to move together like a pack. Her goblin friends were only able to distance themselves from the broadcasts because they weren't pure bred and had a stronger sense of self-awareness.
It was information that boded well for them, as Sarah could stay updated on what might be happening to Jareth and the hordes might be too preoccupied to bother them. Though looking around Sarah did notice the buildings were looking shabbier and vandalised, with non-descript splatters of something dark here and there. Memories of claws like scythes and shark-like teeth flittered through the back of her mind, accompanied by the echoes of evil chittering and screeching. Jareth wasn't here to save her this time should anything go wrong. With a shiver Sarah forced herself to concentrate on her friends.
"All clear," she murmured, scanning the shadows for any signs of life. Maybe her friends were right and there would be little interference from the creatures.
"Like that's goin' to last," Hoggle grumbled behind her, landing on the ledge with a thump as Ludo half-tossed his light weight up the Wall. "Soon as they smell us they'll come runnin' like rats."
"I dare them to try poking their whiskers too close!" Didymus declared as he landed beside Sarah with a light scuffling sound. "We'll give them a thorough going over –"
Sarah hushed him desperately. Hoggle actually gave the little goblin a hard thwack on the arm until he fell quiet. Wick was the next to join them, looking as miserable as Hoggle was angry. She'd given him plenty of chances to back out but the damn Elf was too stuck in that irritating servant role and wouldn't give up. The need to see Sarah home was the only thing pushing him onwards. Finally, Ludo joined them, struggling with his great bulk momentarily. For a horrid moment she thought he would topple right over into the City, his balance thrown off by that awkward goblin body. Hoggle and Wick both snatched his arm and tugged until he stood upright. With a relieved sigh, Sarah turned her eyes back to the City for a final scan. Still there was nothing.
"All right," she said quietly, leading the group. "Stay silent and move fast."
Hoggle followed in grumpy silence with Didymus close at his heels, who quivered with anticipation. Wick's nimble booted feet made easy work of the stone ledge, a big contrast to Ludo's lumbering attempts at balancing. Every few steps Sarah would toss a glance backwards to make sure he wasn't in danger of falling. Not that they could do much to catch him if that happened. Eventually she was concentrating too hard on the crumbling sections of stone to pay attention to anyone else. She sought out each step with careful urgency, forcing calmness on herself. She breathed evenly, kept her eyes wide and ears keen for noise, arms outstretched for balance. And always there was the fervent murmur of Jareth's name in her heart, thrumming like a songbird. I'm coming, she thought, hoping they could beat Wick's estimated three hours to get to the Palace. Anything could happen in three hours, to them and Jareth. Her feet ached not to start to running then and there but that would surely lead to falling and drawing attention to them all. Breathe, she thought. Just breathe.
They made good progress, judging by the landscape that changed around them. The Castle appeared further and further away, which caused an odd pang of longing within Sarah as she wondered if she'd ever return to it. On one side of them was the City floor, hard-packed earth and broken paving stones with a hodgepodge of shacks and stone towers. They knew the place went on for miles and there was no chance of spying the centre from the Wall. Yet still each one of them, save for perhaps Didymus, eyed the distant buildings warily as if expecting a horde to rush at them any minute. On the other side of them was the Labyrinth, deep and cavernous and seemingly alive with menace. Falling on either side would lead to serious problems. In the distance, strewn with shadows from clouds, stretched a land free of both Labyrinth and Goblin City. Sarah had never explored the hillside before, except for that brief hilltop rendezvous with Jareth when she was fifteen. She marvelled at how the land could go from arid, filthy City ground to the luscious forests she could make out in the distance. This was the West Forest they were aiming for.
As the time passed, the group's silence seemed to thicken. Concentration was apparent among all of them as parts of the Wall crumbled underfoot and they moved further away from the relative safety of the Castle grounds. Sarah could hear the steps of every goblin and Elf behind her: the light movements of Didymus and Wick, the shuffling of Hoggle, the scraping great steps of Ludo. And her own feet, steady and sure beneath her, seeking purchase. These were the only noises surrounding them.
Until she heard a growl from below.
Freezing, throwing her arms out for the others to stop, Sarah prayed they would do so silently. Heart in her throat she glanced down and saw a goblin almost as big as Ludo fast asleep on a slab of stone. It was growling as if dreaming, long thick tail lashing and teeth grinding. She couldn't make out the details well from above but it seemed to have a lot of teeth and some fairly wicked claws. Not something she wanted to wake up. Holding her breath, she gave a look to the others that clearly begged them to be careful and took a few steps forward. They followed just as she went, mouths clamped shut with wary glances below every so often. When they'd made it over the goblin and seemed to be in the clear, Sarah allowed herself to exhale. But she didn't dare stop, arms out wide as she sought quick steps along the stone. The scrape of the creature's twitching tail on the pavers echoed in the quiet that surrounded them. Sarah swore she could hear it growling even after they'd been walking for another fifteen minutes. Wick and Ludo were on duty, throwing glances behind them regularly just in case.
"Just our luck to be mauled by the one lazy so-an-so to sleep through the broadcast," Hoggle grumbled after a while, though still with a hint of anxiety.
"I just hope there aren't any more," Sarah replied quietly. She wasn't confident they could avoid conflict if it happened again; they seemed to be reaching an area where the goblins had tried repeatedly to escape the City. The further along they journeyed, the more she noticed the Wall had been repaired in places and built higher. They had to climb a few awkward stone bricks every so often before resuming their normal pace on the relatively flat surface. And the buildings were looking worse than ever, doors ripped off in frustration and evidence of fights: more sinister splattering and chunks of very dead somethings. Each little detail fed the seeds of Sarah's urgency. Jareth had a lot to account for; she was starting to dread what his punishment might be.
Not for the first time, she thought of how she might just smack him on sight for giving in to his horrid mother. To leave her that note was romantic, but she would have preferred it if he'd spoken with her. What they might've done instead, she had no idea. Maybe they could have run away. Maybe they still would. Sarah really had no idea what she was doing. It was this panic that made her lose focus on the task at hand. Her mind wandered in fits and starts, whirling with ridiculous notions about how this all might end. It distracted her from those careful steps that had so far kept her balanced and safe. And it was why she tripped on a broken stone and tumbled screaming into the Labyrinth.
Jareth had sat through many a Council meeting in his time. They were dry affairs, heavy with tedious conversations about upholding tradition. Much as he loathed them, he'd forced himself to pay studious attention. If not because he cared, then because doing a good job meant he wouldn't lose the throne to Lina. Now with no threat of that happening, he found it difficult to focus no matter how hard they prodded at the details of his life. It was hard to care when he'd already conceded defeat. Just get on with it, he thought with a subtle roll of his eyes, almost wishing to be back in that boring cell. But the Council members were intent as ever on drawing out their discussions for as long as possible. There wasn't much to distract him in the chambers, unfortunately: the room was kept plain to match its droll purpose.
The Council sat in a row before Jareth on the marbled floor, festooned in robes of sullen colours with sour faces. He met their tense propriety with indolence, lazily pacing the floor and refusing to sit. There was nothing to look at but the Queen's insignia engraved into the wall behind them. Council chambers were always arranged this way to reduce distraction. He'd been entertaining himself mostly by answering their questions with vague, bored remarks. It was clearly irking the Elders, though his mother seemed determined to keep a neutral face.
"…admit you were abandoning your post to do this?"
The empty voice belonged to Ezra. He shook his head and turned to face her. "Sorry my Lady, what did you say?" he asked mildly.
"I suggest you take this more seriously," the Elder hissed.
"Why? Have we not all agreed on my crime and punishment already?" Jareth replied facetiously. "Why bore ourselves with the details when we can skip ahead to the part we're all looking forward to?"
"You think we are enjoying this parading of your betrayal?" asked Romina, a woman not quite Mira's age but as immovable as any Elder.
"Of course," Jareth replied with a wave of his hand. "Mother has always liked pointing out my faults. Haven't you, mother of mine?"
Mira sat in the middle of the row, hands folded stiffly in her lap. Her frosty expression followed her son's aimless wandering form. "Repeat your question," she said to Ezra without taking her gaze from Jareth.
The Elder cleared her throat. "Reports claim that you frequently visited Above in order to watch the development of the human Sarah Williams throughout her life. Do you admit you were abandoning your post to do this?"
"I do," he answered. "And I don't regret a moment of it."
"And when the time came, years later, for you to discuss the fate of Tobias and Alice Williams with their sister, do you admit to ignoring custom as a favour to her?"
"It wasn't a favour," he corrected them with an impatient sigh. "Sarah and I had a deal."
"A deal which is not customary to make," Romina pointed out. "What were the details of such a trade?"
"I spared her brother from running the Labyrinth in exchange for Sarah's promise to return to the Underground with me." Now they were getting to the parts he didn't have to force interest in. Revealing anything about Sarah to the Council put him on edge; it worried him what they might do with the information.
"And in doing so you knowingly disrespected the hordes by denying them their rightful access to prize flesh," said Ezra coldly. "Not the first time you have intervened in goblin practices, as we all know."
"And not the last, certainly," Jareth commented with another roll of his eyes. "As I'm sure you intend on pointing out. Go on, then."
"You have allowed your relationship with the hordes to decay over the last two years," Ezra continued. "You have interfered in Labyrinth runs; set rules you had no right to enforce upon the goblins; rescued Sarah Williams from the death she deserved in her foolishness. You –"
"She didn't deserve to die," Jareth interrupted through gritted teeth. "Few humans deserve the deaths they have suffered in my Kingdom." He scanned their unkind faces. "Not one of you understands that, do you?"
"We understand the need to placate the hordes," his mother snapped. "We understand self-discipline, and upholding tradition for the sake of safety, and we understand the disgraceful way you have allowed your Kingdom to fall into total chaos for the sake of a silly little human girl." By the time Mira finished she was a mirror image of her son: stiff-backed and fists clenched, eyes blazing with fire, mouth in a flat angry line. The two Fae glared at each other with such disdain they forgot the Council around them.
"You will never see it another way, never," Jareth growled. "So ask me the final question, Mira, and we can conclude this."
Her voice was empty as a void, ready to be filled with tones of victory. "Do you admit to loving the human Sarah Williams and failing as Goblin King because of this?"
He refused to let the heartlessness of the question strip the magic from its core. Inside those inane words was a true story that he'd lived through.
"Yes, I love her," he said softly. "And as I said, I don't regret a moment of it."
She was hanging over a pit of jagged rocks.
It certainly hadn't been there before she fell, but Sarah had always suspected the Labyrinth of being half-alive, subjectable to change. Now was hardly the time for thoughts of possible pseudo-sentience, however. Hoggle had thrown himself at her feet the moment she screamed; those gnarled hands were the only things keeping her from falling to her death. She hung upside down with her dress and hair falling down over her face. The others were crowding around Hoggle attempting to help. Her head ached; she'd thumped it in the fall as the Dwarf-goblin had caught her. And the sight of glistening rocks sharp as knives directly below wasn't helping matters. Above, her companions shouted in varying degrees of panic.
"I knew I should have just taken you straight home!"
"I'll fetch her, do not fear!"
"What good are you goin' to be you bite-sized lump? Hurry up you big lout," Hoggle cried. "I can't hold on forever!"
"Ludo help!" said the big goblin in an urgent voice.
Without being able to see, Sarah guessed he was trying to work his great bulk around the others to reach her. She tried to keep quiet and still so Hoggle wouldn't drop her. It helped that the sheer panic racing through her system had stunned her into silence.
"Sawah," Ludo called. She felt strong hands grabbing at her ankles. "Make Sawah safe."
"Yes please Ludo," she answered quietly. "Please get me out of here."
There was a low grunt and a painfully tight grip on her calves. The world pitched and shifted and righted itself with a dizzying swing as Ludo hauled her up into his arms. For a moment Sarah couldn't move, numb with relief at being right side up and not hanging above certain death. "Thank you big boy," she murmured into Ludo's scraggly fur. "Thank you."
"Uh, Sarah…"
"We're not going back just because I fell, Wick," Sarah sighed as she was deposited carefully down on the ledge of the Wall.
"If it ain't goblins it's the bloody landscape tryin' to kill us," Hoggle grumbled. "You okay, Sarah?"
"I'm fine," she answered. "Just banged my head a bit." Her temples were thumping sharply; she pressed a hand against the side of her face. "Let's get back to it then."
"S-Sarah…"
"Honestly, I'm fine!" she said firmly, irritated as the Elf reached over to tug at her hand.
But he shook his head and pointed toward the City. Exasperated, she followed his gaze. And understood why words were failing him.
The sound of her fall had attracted attention.
Scurrying towards them in a fluid rhythm were a dozen goblins, beady eyes trained on the group. They moved together with sinister intent, tails swishing and claws scraping along the pavers. Sarah could just make out the sleeping one from earlier. Choice curses poured from Hoggle's mouth; Wick looked as if he were about to faint. Didymus was already shouting at them and raising his tiny claws ready to fight. Ludo tried to move protectively in front of Sarah but she stopped him.
"They might listen to me if they think I'm a Fae," she said doubtfully. "Maybe I can get them to back off."
"Sarah, those fellas ain't goin' to listen to Jareth right now, let alone you!" Hoggle cried. "We needs to get runnin' now." He began taking steps along the Wall but Sarah refused to move.
She faced the advancing pack, which was now closing in with alarming speed. They were only a few seconds away. Drawing herself up, straight-backed and glaring, Sarah held up a hand as if she could halt their steps with magic.
"Stop!" she commanded loudly, voice echoing over the calamity of shuffling bodies and increasingly urgent chittering. "I represent the Goblin King and I order you to stop!"
They did no such thing. They were almost at the base of the Wall now. Her companions were making a cacophony of sound: worried cries, gleeful jests, rumbling groans. She stood her ground, one hand flying unbidden to her chest in fear. Something hard brushed against her fingers and a desperate idea seized her. Tugging out Jareth's pendant from beneath her shirt, Sarah held it up with what she hoped was a superior expression.
"I have been given the seal of the El'Maven family and I demand you stop right now!" she yelled in a booming voice.
This time they did stop. Foul toothy faces turned as one to stare at the pendant. Paws and claws twitched; they made sounds like swords clashing. Unable to breathe or believe her luck, Sarah gave the pendant a pointed shake and returned the cold glare of the goblins below. They gazed at the necklace, heads tilted, contemplating. Had she managed to save them?
There was no time to feel triumphant in the split second before they burst forth screeching. The creatures howled and raged, surging towards the Wall at full speed. Between their screaming and her own, Sarah caught snatches of words she'd rather have gone without hearing:
"No King of ours, no King of ours, blood we want to rip to tear you to thrash and strip –"
The goblins threw their whole weight into the stone, scrabbling for a way up.
"Run!" Sarah shouted needlessly at the others. "And someone grab Didymus!"
The little goblin was peering down at the attackers with a determined gleam in his beady eyes. His protests at being snatched up by Ludo were overwhelmed by the noise below. There was no room for thought, only the instinct to run. The group hurtled along the Wall at a dangerous speed, flying away from the barrage of teeth. Sarah had no idea how they managed to get as far as they did before the inevitable cry came from behind. Heart sinking before she even turned around, Sarah knew someone had fallen. A quick look revealed a dismal sight: Hoggle hung from Wick's legs, who was clinging to the ledge desperately trying to haul them both back up. The Dwarf-goblin was kicking viciously at the creatures below as they leapt and tried to snatch at his feet. Sarah ran to help just as Ludo dropped a frantic Didymus; he took a swing at a goblin who was dangerously close to the ledge. Hoggle swore, Didymus threw himself into the fray and Wick reached out a shaking hand to grab Sarah's ankle.
She wasn't sure what happened then. One second they were all tumbling over the ledge about to be ripped to pieces – and the next, they were in a heap on chilly marble flooring.
"What…?" she murmured, heart still pounding.
It took them a few seconds to disentangle themselves and come to grips with their whereabouts. They were in a narrow hallway, the walls of which were decorated in familiar vines and flora. The faint heady scent of pollen and perfume made her nose itch.
"Is everyone okay?" Sarah asked, rising shakily and dusting off her dress. The others answered in various tones of confusion that they were fine. Wick however was sitting against the wall staring at his palms with a frown. Kneeling beside him, Sarah took one of his hands and examined the grazed skin. It looked tender and ragged, fine pricks of blue blood rising to the surface. She had a feeling it wasn't the injuries that worried him.
"It's just a few scratches from holding onto the ledge," he said without looking at her.
"Wick," she murmured, gently sweeping her thumb over his wrist. "Did you do this? Did you take us away?"
A few sharp teeth flashed as he bit his lip gently in thought. "I think so," he answered carefully. "It's a defence mechanism. If an Elf is in enough danger, we can transport ourselves away. I've never done it before." He let his hands fall into his lap. "I don't think I could do it again unless there was another threat to my life."
The goblins joined them by the wall, Hoggle patting the Elf on the shoulder. "You did more than just save your own skin," he said in a gravelly impression of gratitude. "Thanks for takin' us with yer, Wick."
"Indeed noble sir, we are indebted to you for your heroic act," Didymus added.
Ludo patted the Elf's head and smiled kindly.
Sarah was grinning, which made Wick frown deeper. "I don't see what's so wonderful about the situation that we can afford to be sitting here idly," he announced, getting to his feet. "We're in the Palace but that's just as dangerous as the City we left behind, if I might point out." He squirmed under Sarah's continuous smiling gaze. "May I ask what you're smiling about, Miss?"
"I knew you were still in there somewhere," she murmured, joining him in the middle of the hall. "My Wick wouldn't have left if he couldn't have saved us all."
"I apologise for the misunderstanding, Miss, but it was pure instinct. I was acting without conscious thought."
"Grateful as I am, can we gets on with it?" Hoggle interrupted, hopping anxiously from foot to foot. "He's right about the Palace being just as bad as the City. Especially for us."
He was right. They didn't have time to linger in hallways. "Now that you're here, you might as well tell us where the dungeons are," she said to Wick, who seemed to be gradually accepting that he wouldn't complete his duty anytime soon. With a sigh the Elf nodded and started off down the hall in wary silence.
Sarah wasn't too worried about being caught herself, or even Wick for that matter, but the goblins had no way to hide should someone appear. What alarm would the sight of them cause in the Royal Palace? Their very presence was a risk; she felt horribly exposed. Growing more uneasy with each step, it took Sarah a moment to notice that the goblins had stopped following them. When Wick pointed it out, she turned to find them staring at her with expressions that made her feel sick at heart. "What?"
"My Lady…" Didymus whispered, ears pinned back and moustache drooping.
Ludo whined pitifully. Hoggle wrung his hands together and dropped his gaze to the floor.
"Hoggle," Sarah said firmly. "What is it? Is it the broadcast?"
"Yes, Sarah."
And then more silence. "Well, what is it?" she demanded impatiently.
"They seem to be in the process of appointing a new King, my Lady," said Didymus forlornly.
"And?"
"And that means the old King has to pass over his power," Hoggle said, eyes firmly glued to the floor. "By way of the new King killin' him."
Everything spun. Her head was aching, heart thumping, stomach fluttering enough that she wanted to be sick. She wanted to protest, to disbelieve the words…but there was nothing about the Fae world that really surprised her anymore. Of course they would do it this way. And it helped her make sense of why Jareth had gone without talking to her. He must have known he would be going to his death. Sarah didn't cry. She didn't scream or rage or fall into a blind panic. She just smoothed her dress and tidied her hair, making sure she looked the part of those despicable Fae. There was nothing left to do but stop it, no matter how.
"Where's the trial being held?" she asked calmly.
"In – in the Council court," Wick answered. "But Sarah, we can't –"
"I think I've long since gone beyond the point of 'can't' in the Fae Domain, don't you?" she interrupted mildly. "Take me there. Now."
Maybe it was the finality of her tone or the gleam in her eyes, but the Elf nodded meekly and led the way.
He was right, as it turned out. Brynn Fel Vaden, his chosen successor, was every inch the descendent of Ezra. They shared the same severity in features: pointed chin and high cheekbones, austere grey eyes beneath a sharp brow marked with crimson. He held himself with remarkable ease for a man about to execute his predecessor, standing before the Council with his arms behind his back. Shoulder-length ebony hair was tied back with a leather band, framing the impassive face that Jareth couldn't help snatching glances at. It was just like looking at a male version of the Elder he despised so much. Yet despite Brynn's apparent lack of emotion for the situation, there was a distinct air of naturalness about him that Jareth approved of. He himself had spent too many decades living a lie as Goblin King, ruling a realm he had no true passion for. If anyone was to take the helm of a sinking ship and guide it safely to land, Jareth suspected Brynn had the capability.
The trial was almost over. They'd finished the private discussion in the Council chambers, having reached the inevitable conclusion after further pointless questioning. The process now, of being trialled and sentenced before a court of witnesses, was pure formality. Everything had already been decided. But what was a good execution without a few judgemental faces to watch? Jareth stood before a raised platform where the Council and the Queen sat looking down at him blankly. To the left was an array of audience members: Elders, Lords and Ladies, leaders from various surrounding communities. All stood in reticence, hands folded in front, gowns and cloaks flowing to the marble floor. He'd managed to ignore them completely for the duration of the proceedings, chin high in defiance of his mother's shaming stare.
Ezra's booming voice echoed throughout the chamber, drawing all eyes to her with the power in that cold gaze. "Jareth El'Maven, son of Queen Mira El'Maven of the Fae Domain, the unrefuted Goblin King for the last one hundred and twelve consecutive years…the Council has concluded its inquiries and we find you unfit for leadership. You have endangered our realm through lax performance of duty. You have been found guilty of breaking the most sacred crime of our world by confessing to the love of a human." Her tone was unflinching as she proceeded to describe the ways in which his crime was unforgivable. Jareth wondered how she could ever have loved anyone enough to marry and have children…the existence of Brynn, her great grandson, seemed a mystery in the wake of that emotionless cadence. But then, he conceded, his own mother was proof enough that you didn't need to know love to have a family.
"…agree, my son?" Mira's barking question roused him from thought.
"I agree and acquiesce," he answered without knowing or caring what he was saying yes to. It didn't matter. Nothing did, except that he'd saved the two most important women in his life. He had yet to pay the price, but it was looming closer with every syllable that rolled from their tongues. Thoughts of Sarah were ever on his mind as he stood there, hands clasped behind his back, watching Brynn be sworn in to take over the Labyrinth Throne.
"I give my support to this decision, as Queen of the Domain, and declare the sentencing of Jareth El'Maven to be justified."
Was Sarah still asleep, breathing deep with dreams and unaware that he was gone? Or had she woken to find herself alone?
"Brynn Fel Vaden, the Council asks you to step forward and take the blade to take the life."
Will she ever forgive me? He moved to kneel wordlessly in the circle before the Council, marked by black indentations in the marble. Brynn withdrew a silver dagger from its sheath, held up to him by a Councilwoman.
Thank you for taking me to Lina once more. Jareth tilted his chin up and exposed his throat, hands clasped firmly behind his back. A serene acceptance enveloped him, almost euphoric in its finality. No longer would he bear burdens for the sake of others.
"I, Brynn Fel Vaden, future Goblin King and Lord of the Labyrinth, ask for your life so that I may lead my Kingdom with respect and authority." There was not an ounce of arrogance in that deep voice as he reached for a fistful of Jareth's hair. Yes, the Fae would do well enough.
He opened his mouth to give agreement when a flicker of movement caught his attention. Someone had slipped into the room through the vine-covered doorway. At first he thought it a late spectator and dismissed them. Let them see, he thought distantly. What's one more set of eyes to me? But the woman didn't walk with the grace of a Fae. She took sure-footed steps towards them so silently that nobody else seemed to have noticed. Coal black hair fell across her heavily marked face; when she flicked her head and blew it out of the way Jareth knew. Those emerald eyes belonged to Sarah. No, he pleaded silently. Don't. Because there was no way his Sarah had come to simply watch him die. By the time she'd been noticed it was too late: she ran and crashed into Brynn with her full weight. Jareth's head jerked back as the man's grasp was ripped from his hair. The three of them were sent tumbling to the floor in disarray. The world was chaos: voices rang through the chambers in outrage, bolts of magic hit the marble around them as the Council tried to reign in the intruder.
Jareth managed to grab hold of Sarah's arm just as Brynn made a slash at her: she screamed, eyes dark with agony, mouth twisted in pain, and everything else fell away in silence.
There was nothing in the world he wanted less than to look down, but he forced himself to. The tip of Brynn's dagger was showing in her abdomen; it had gone right through her back. Blood streamed like red silk down Sarah's dress. She fell heavily into his arms, coughing.
"No," he said hoarsely. "Sarah, what did you do?"
"What did you do?" she replied sharply as he sank to the floor with her. "Who – who told you – you could die for me?"
"I had to," he whispered fervently, cradling her. "It was never going to end any other way."
Sarah coughed again, wincing, leaning into his neck. "Bullshit," she replied, gesturing weakly at her wound. "What about this? Didn't – think of this, did you?"
"Sarah, how is this any better?"
"I didn't have a plan," she murmured. He wondered if she was even aware of the tears pouring down her cheeks. "But I couldn't…"
"Sarah, my Sarah," he muttered, stroking her hair, filled with panic. "I can't fix this, I can't –"
But there was a way. Something that hadn't been done for centuries, an act so selfless it had been forgotten among his callous generation. Reaching behind Sarah, he gripped the handle of the dagger.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "I'm so sorry for this."
He pulled it out of her back. She screamed into his neck, clawing his skin in pain, shivering. Still murmuring fervent apologies, Jareth ignored the demanding questions of those closing in on them. He wrapped a hand around the blade and pulled, cutting deep into his palm. The searing burn of the cut was little disturbance compared to the tragic moan Sarah gave as he pressed his bleeding wound against hers. "Live my years," he murmured against her ear as she cried and fell still. "Take them all, Sarah Williams." Waves of exhaustion hit him like blows. Jareth cradled Sarah against his chest and let them both sink to the floor. There was no way of knowing what would happen to her now. But at least she was alive, he told himself, feeling sleep beckon like a lover.
At least she's alive.