An: Many mythologies take place in this story from from Greek, African, Egyptian, and Christian. Christian is a bit more prominent in this chapter. Please take no offense. I'm agnostic lack support for any religion.
Sarah stared out the colored window while the children slept. The sun was creeping behind the hills stretching her last rays into the orange sky. Sarah sighed unconsciously. To put it plainly, she was lonely. It had been days since she last spoke with anyone. Even Audra wouldn't converse with her. "Wake up, eat, follow." Those were the only words exchanged.
Sarah was bored. Worst of all—though she wouldn't admit it aloud—she was missing Jareth. That and she was running low on pot. Fighting with him was better than the mundane routine she had fallen in to.
She arrived at the doorway meeting her escort there. "Why is the castle so quiet?" She asked Flogray.
"King Jareth is out." He rolled his eyes.
"Okay. . . but what does that have to do with my question?" She wanted to step on the little bugger.
"He puts a spell on the castle so we can't get to rowdy." The Goblin laughed. "We can make some hefty messes."
Sarah giggled too. "Yes, I have to agree."
"I could show you our messes some time." Flogray looked up to her. "Or you could help us make them!"
Sarah thought for a moment. "That actually sounds like fun. Really? I would love to help you make a mess."
The goblin jumped up and down. "What boggish fun!" Then he grew quiet and whispered: "As soon as Jareth comes back and lifts his security we'll sneak out one day and trash the Gargoyle room! They always keep candy from Aboveground there."
"They won't get mad will they?" Sarah put a hand on her doorknob.
"Who cares? They raid the goblin quarters all the time. Last time they stole my orange shoes. Don't know why they like orange things." At that, he turned and scurried down the corridor.
Sarah looked around her gray room. Nope. She couldn't do it. She couldn't stay in this terrible excuse for a bedroom another night.
However, after walking a few steps, she wasn't sure where exactly she was going. She looked back at her door and laughed. She decided anywhere was better than that room. Therefore, she grabbed some things and stepped out into the hall.
By some magic or another, she found herself outside under the moon. The air smelled sweet and the air was cool. It was a small-enclosed area, nestled within the castle. In a small courtyard was where she currently found herself. She didn't mind in the least. There were several small benches surrounded by flowers outlining the stone walkway. A lone peach tree grew slanted shading the area from a few beams of the moon. Sarah wasn't too pleased to see peaches.
She found a nice spot under the tree leaning against the trunk. She pulled out the small amount of weed she brought with her. She thought it wise to leave most of it in her room, though there wasn't much to leave. She probably had three days left, at the most. She had been taking extra drags these last few, boring days.
She rolled and lit up her key to escape from the Underground. She took one puff and let it fill her. She began to bring the weed back to her mouth when she was stopped.
"Sarah. . . " The voice startled her. She was sure it was product of the high setting on early mixing with exhaustion. Nevertheless, that baritone sounded so real. Maybe she could bring him into this fantasy. She sucked down a long inhale. His name slipped from her lips. His face hovered behind her eyelids.
"What, in the Underground, are you doing?"
Sarah's eyes snapped open. "Shit." She mumbled dropping the joint in the grass beside her. Before her stood the Goblin king looking quite tired and grossly annoyed.
"I was entertaining myself." She stood up, not even feeling a slight buzz as she stamped out the waste of green.
She looked into the eyes of the moonlit man before her. The shadows across his face were hard and sharp. She took in his cape, deep black, and matching outfit. He would pass for the perfect goth.
He grabbed her wrists pinning them to her sides. "Entertainment?" He laughed without humor. "You call damaging your body Entertainment?"
"What else am I supposed to do? Hmm, Jareth? I'm bored!" She struggled to free her wrists and stepped out of his grasp. "Remember, you have no power over me." She turned away from him, but he instantly appeared in front of her.
"Oh, Sarah." He laughed the same laugh again. "You belong to me. Power?" He was sneering, "That's not just what I have on you, but I have a claim."
"Sure." Said Sarah nervously. She had never seen him angry. "I owe you my life, but that doesn't mean I have to bow to your every whim. If I want to get high, I'm going to. End. Of. Story." Jareth stepped toward her again. "Seriously, learn about personal space." She attempted to step back, but Jareth wordlessly put his arms around her pulling her into him.
Sarah closed her eyes and fought the urge to take a quick whiff of his dark shirt. She held her hands at her sides so she wouldn't pull his head into her neck—no, now was not the time for that.
She pushed him away from her and realized he had transported them to her cell.
Furiously, Jareth began lifting boxes and crates one at a time. Tunnel vision clouded his judgment on what was worthy of hiding things in and what was absolutely pointless. Fire was burning through him. He wanted to shake her like a spoiled child. For a split second, he wished he could wish her away back home, but rules were rules.
She had wished herself here, and with the other rule—one can only do the labyrinth once—she was stuck. Unless by some chance they found a loophole. That was unlikely.
His eyes found hers. He could see a sense of fright hiding behind a mask of uncaring. Then he watched her eyes flash across the room then back to his. 'Ah, thank you, Sarah.'
He followed her gaze and lifted a pair of old clothes. He pulled plastic bag free and held it before both of them.
"What are you doing?" She asked apprehensively stepping toward him, reaching for it.
He pulled it away from her grasp and stepped toward the window. "I am freeing you Sarah." He sighed, and dumped the contents of the bag out the window. The wind picked up scattering the leaf fragments across the kingdom. He watched for a moment, making sure a patch of it hadn't clumped together. Then he turned to Sarah.
She gawked wide-eyed at the window. She slightly noticed him stuff the plastic bag into his pocket, but that was faraway. "What have you done?" Her voice was quiet. Her eyes found the ground.
"You are too strong a girl—too much will—to answer to a plant night after night." Jareth didn't like to see her this way, not his Sarah lost without substance. He watched her fall to her knees.
She looked into the blank space before her. The future: wake up, eat slop, baby-sit, sleep. Getting high was the only thing she could count-on, the only thing she made part of the routine. "It was all I had Jareth. The only thing for me." She looked at him. Her eyes were red, palms turned up, and face broken. "Congratulations. You have taken everything from me."
"It was just a drug." Jareth stepped past her, "You call me a pathetic king, but you a pathetic child."
"Just leave. Shut the door on your way out." She didn't move.
"Tell me why it matters, Sarah. From what I understand, this drug isn't even addictive."
Sarah looked up to him now with a certain kind of rejection in her eyes. Her face had gone white like the flag of a war's surrender. "It's called psychological dependence you, asshole. Get. Out." Sarah wasn't there anymore, but a possessive, cracked girl replaced her.
He watched her for a moment. He hesitated, then, strangely, he did as he was told. It wasn't a long moment, however, until he pulled a crystal ball from the air and watched her.
He was in his bedroom now, sinking into the hot bath. She was finally sleeping, after sobbing on herself half the night. He let the crystal dissipate and laid his head back to rest. The water felt wonderful all over. He imagined the small waves as Sarah's fingertips caressing his chest. He smirked. Tonight's little stunt would make sure she never touched him like that. Nonetheless, his torso ached.
Jareth wasn't exactly having the best week. He recalled the past few days with a tiring effect. He wasn't decidedly pleased with his present task.
"Find a replacement, or marry." That's what Godger—nickname, God—had said. It was all cliché in itself. Jareth even laughed then. So did God, this big burly creation complete with beard and the age of 6,239,732,123. "No, just kidding."
"I'm aware of that." Jareth told his father. "How many of my siblings have you pulled that on?"
"Well, Chris gave in, but all he has is the North Pole and those elves. He should have known I was kidding, but now he's got himself a wife. Don't understand why he only goes out once a year though."
"Well, perhaps he deems his birthday an important event in which he must hand out gifts to everyone. Kind of egotistical in a way." Jareth smirked. His younger brother was such a buffoon.
"I suppose."
They were silent for a few moments. Jareth watched the table between them clear as the fae servants cleared the dishes. Why is father insisted on living in the desert, Jareth would never understand. The oasis was nice though, a lovely addition to the dry heat.
"In all seriousness," Jareth looked up to the man speaking, "You need to kill Enyo." The old man sighed. "That or marry her."
"She is desperately seeking control of the underground. All I want is the labyrinth and the goblins. What does she want with me?" Jareth took a swig of his Cimmeria wine (very rare).
"Well, her plans involve killing me, but I really don't feel like stopping her. I figure, if she gets to me, then she can have the world. She deserves it after that hard work." God smiled. "To get to me, she has to get the whole underground, which she has almost done. Good job not concerning yourself with the hostile takeover by with way."
"I try to avoid that which doesn't pertain to me." Jareth thought a moment. "But I will stop her because I'm quite bored. Babies aren't wished away like they used to be. I guess parents are more loving."
Godger took a drink now, "Nah, they just leave them outside nowadays."
"Or, I could marry Enyo, and we could kill you together." He muddled over the idea. Enyo wasn't exactly ugly; in fact, she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
God shrugged. "Honestly, I don't care. Just get off your ass, for the love of myself. All you've done the last five years is sulk. Big deal, someone beat you at your game. It was about time is all I say. How long was it? Five hundred years right?"
Jareth nodded. "That was the last time it was beaten."
"Who was it that beat it then?"
"Henry the eighth. Finally got himself a male heir and wished him away. It was fun to see that idiot fear me. Some how, he beat me." Jareth rolled his eyes. It was an embarrassment.
"Well, don't let me know what you decided to do about this Enyo business. I like to be surprised." God waved a hand at a servant. "Tell the Angels to expect me." The fae nodded before casting a glance at Jareth and vanishing.
"Have fun sorting out the souls. I'll be leaving." Jareth lifted his eyes to the sun then transformed into his owl form. It was a long flight home, but he loved the feel of air under his wings.
He was quite eager to see Sarah again. How long had it been? Five days ago. He soared over his large castle around the hedges of the maze and finally he landed in the courtyard—the safest place to transform. He had let her name escape his lips in anticipation, even though it was past evening. She was probably asleep. He'd have to wait.
"Jareth." Then he saw her. His temper flared.
He dragged himself from the bath and flicked his towel across his chiseled shoulders, drying the ends of his hair. He was tired of thinking about her constantly. Yet, there she was. Then he wondered if he was addicted to her the way she was addicted to her plant… Hmm…He didn't like thinking about that weakness.
He dried himself off and slipped into his bed. He tossed a few times before finally checking on Sarah one more time. She was still asleep, but because he was Jareth, he could tell her dreams weren't about butterflies and lollipops.