An echoing boom resounded from behind him as the great doors swung shut, sealing him in. A gale whipped past and all but tore him from his feet a moment later, sending him stumbling forward a few steps until he reached out an arm to the wall beside him to steady himself.
The Labyrinth trembled. A desolate expanse of forgotten rock and brick, the maze had begun to crumble in on itself from neglect and its creator's wellbeing. Plants, ranging from small watching eyeballs to thick whipping thorns, had found purchase in the gaps of the walls where the stone had begun to come away in clumps, furthering its decay. The ground underfoot was perilous from the debris and foliage. Moss and algae covered what they could, causing his boots to slip whenever his concentration wavered.
Each break in the corridors where he could venture forth was bridged in thick spiderwebs and branching thorns, their occupants chittering their fangs as he passed through or under them, the noise carrying through the quiet. The sky overhead rumbled its displeasure as its clouds knit together in purples and deep greys.
A single wavering shaft of golden sunlight seemed to follow him as the fae dragged himself forward with pained grunts, lighting his path. A spotlight on his progress, unclear if it were singling him out or helping him. His gaze remained ahead of him resolutely seeking any hint of the tree he had seen from his chambers. Any glimpse of its leaves, its bounty.
On the breeze the remnants of what might have been a scream or laughter sounded as it whistled past. The Labyrinth had housed many a runner in its time and had seen many a hardship, each event leaving a mark upon its structure.
When the champion had defeated its riddles and obstacles, the maze had acknowledged her as a worthy ruler over its expanse. Her being and energy had leeched into the stone paths she had run and those she had interacted with, altering its magic and its shape. In the decades following her success, new foliage and animals had begun to appear. Flowers of dizzying colours grew in the forest where she had fallen folly to the King's laced fruit. The fire gang had stopped terrorising everything that crossed their paths and had developed new games for themselves where they threw each other's heads over the walls into new parts of the maze, finding different creatures to mingle with and prank.
A new life had breathed from the brick. Some of the old corridors had repaired themselves. Jareth's power was amplified by having another's magic adding to it. In his grief, the Fae hadn't noticed the changes. Had turned his back on the sprawling expanse outside of the Goblin City he had painstakingly built brick by brick by hand. The maze had been there when he was ostracised from Terauramulis, it had acknowledged him for his bravery when he had set foot within it and begun to repair it with his own magic, pushing his own life's essence into it to make it stronger. They were entangled now in a way where they couldn't be separated. If Jareth died, so would the Labyrinth.
It had simply taken until he was on the cusp of death to remember.
A symbiotic relationship of a dizzying scale, Jareth fell as one of the thorned branches raised to trip him deliberately, thwarting the progress he was attempting to make.
The Labyrinth was a living thing of its own first, it had its own memories. Its own way of dealing with things. He had abandoned it in his own time of need, and in its time of need he hadn't come to rescue it either. A grumble shook through the ground beneath him, rattling the stones under his hands as he desperately dragged himself upwards using one of the walls, skinning the tips of his fingers as the rock broke and crumbled beneath them. He staggered around in a small circle, drinking in the maze as it truly was for a moment, his heart panging with grief. It gasped back at him like a dying animal, the gale wailing as it bit at his face and fingers and made him hiss.
"My apologies..." Jareth rasped, his palm flat on the brick beside him. The beam of sunlight warmed through the clothes which hung from his body, sending a shiver down his spine as he turned to rest his forehead above his hand. "I am the cause... for all this destruction..."
His words came in laboured pants as his body was wracked with agonising tremors, his eyes clenched shut against the overwhelming pain as he reverently spoke his deepest apologies to the walls at large. At times, it seemed as if the stone he rested upon become warmer. The wind died down as if it were listening intently to him. On and on, he professed his regret, recalling memories of it at its healthiest. Of when last it had had a runner and rose to the occasion to show its best self to them. Whoever they were.
Visions of Aislinn came to mind as that too-familiar vice gripping pain claimed his skull and he cried out, his strength leaving him as he dropped heavily to his knees. As he fell, the moss that covered the walkway pulled sharply together to cushion his landing as best it could. Tears spilled from his eyes to track down his face, soaking into his shirt, his trousers, the moss which had caught him. Tired. He was so exhausted from the increasing agony he had suffered for months. It was too much.
Jareth's voice broke as he began his apologies all over again, to anything and everything that might hear him. Heavy sobs poured into the cracks and fissures around him as his misery bled in a steady stream from him, his tone growing shrill in places before it would break again.
He was sorry for how he had been banished. He was sorry he had somehow lost his way and his kingdom, his subjects, had suffered due to his action and consequent inaction. He was sorry for the boy whom had visited his lands, who he threatened. How it took him to Terauramulis.
He was sorry for the One he had loved, who had given his soul to. Who still held his shattered heart. He was sorry that he couldn't recall her and for the torment he endured when he tried.
Most of all, he apologised for ever believing Aislinn was what she first seemed as he had known better. And that he had brought her here, where she was actively trying to destroy everything he had ever built and cared for.
Due to his blindness and self-pity, everything here would die. Perhaps him first. But then it would be the flora, then the fauna. The walls would tumble in on themselves and the maze would become a lifeless tomb. The goblins, if spared, would descend back into the brutal primitive barbarism he had pulled them up from and destroy themselves.
Hours passed, and soon his tears dried and stiffened on his waxy skin. His emaciated body simply didn't have the water to sustain them anymore. Breathing deeply, Jareth eventually lifted his head again, and tried to stand.
And he stood without effort.
Shock held him in place then, as he peered intently at the space he had lifted himself from. Where there had been damp and mould, the brick had brightened. The moss had become grass, and small daisies grew from it. Flexing his fingers, he found that his hands didn't shake when he lifted them, staring at the loose leather which sheathed the strengthened tendons beneath.
Suddenly the sound of running water met his ears and he turned on his heel to follow it, only needing to stop a couple of times to catch his breath until he found it. A small running waterfall was cascading down one of the dilapidated walls into a small pool, and beside it was a roughly hewn and severely weather beaten bench. A twisted, gnarled tree grew behind them, and he recognised it as one which used to house some of the fairies which dwelled here. There was no trace of them now, though their water still ran clear and pure. Gratefully, he collapsed onto the seat and eagerly scooped his hands into the falling water.
He drank greedily, suckling at his hands as quickly as he filled them. It streamed down the sides of his face and soaked into his already tear-laden clothes, wetting the lifeless draping hair spilling in the way.
It seemed not so long ago that he had done just this. His first excursion into the Labyrinth, when they had met for the first time. Parched and famished from his work building his castle, his city, from venturing out to explore what he could look after and govern. It had taken a full day's travel through the maze before it had reacted to him. The entire time he had spoken away to it, told it about his past and his ambitions, his regrets, how prosperous he wanted his land to be. How strong he wanted the creatures to grow here, how healthy he wished all life within his chosen borders would become. For hours he had spoken even as his throat had grown rough from him having spoken so much. Then he had begun to speak to himself about how impressive the structure was. How well it was flourishing all on its own. How had it come to be? Who had built such a grand spectacle? How he could only aspire to claim such a success for something so great. So spectacular.
Tiredness had pulled him into sleep against this very tree. He recognised the hollow its roots had created to accommodate him while he dreamed, cradling him, sheltering him from the wind. The morning after he had awoken feeling worse than the day before, but had found this same small waterfall. Had drank just as great amounts before he realised he was being observed by pixies. Then had come the realisation that there was perfectly ripe fruit beside the bench he had fallen beside in his thirst.
Once waterlogged, Jareth pulled back and dropped his hands, his tongue chasing the last droplets from his lip. "Thank you," he rasped.
A smile stretched his face for the first time in months. It was uncomfortable, bordering on hurt, but he couldn't fight it and gave it freely. The sun on his back grew stronger as he braced himself against the bench, then stood fluidly. Warmth coursed through him as if his blood had been heated, and he took another moment to truly appreciate the feeling as the numbness in his hands and feet retreated, a short spell of dizziness clouding his mind.
Then he set off again.
"I have dreamt of you often."
Jareth spoke quietly as he picked his way over the broken terrain, stepping over the large roots and branches, hesitating before the thorned vines until they decided to flatten themselves or pull into the walls.
"They are strange dreams. Sometimes I am unsure if I am awake, or if I am living a nightmare. In each one you struggle. As do I. As do I..."
The wind seemed to have dropped for now, barely lifting the tips of his hair to tickle at his jaw and eyelashes. As he walked, he stumbled across the remains of a plum tree, and he once more graciously thanked the Labyrinth before taking of its fruit and eating it with all the eagerness of a starving man.
He hadn't trusted his meals in weeks, and had therefore stopped eating. It was one more thing she had tried to control him by, and one more way he had sought to protect himself.
The juices were sickly sweet, making his stomach lurch, but he forced himself to keep the fruit down as he picked his way onwards.
"My sleep is plagued by a tortured woman. Each night, I must endure her blood-curdling screams, her pleading for mercy, for rescue."
Finding a dead end, he pushed to his right and walked on again. "My name is shrieked in piercing screams. The desperation of it is agonising. I suffer the most excruciating pain where my heart is when she calls, for I cannot find her. I cannot end her suffering, for I know not where she is held. I know not who she is."
A faint squabbling of voices was heard nearby, but disappeared the moment he turned it their direction. Still, he pushed towards the sound, his teeth grit in concentration as the small amount of strength which had returned to him kept wavering. "Do you witness her cries, as she is attacked? Is her identity known by you?"
He didn't expect any true responses from the walled entity he walked within, recognising newer parts he had added himself as they melded with what had already been there, walking through them all. Bright golden sandstone merged into bedrock, mortar from between the bricks white in places, the deepest of greens elsewhere.
Every now and again, something too familiar would come into view. The exit to an oubliette, where he knew Hoggle had helped a runner. With each crippling seizure of his mind, the Labyrinth would find a way to keep him standing, and would urge him on again. The courtyard, then, where the Wiseman used to love to sit. His throne was conspicuously empty. It was all but unrecognisable as a deep split ran down the centre where he would have sat.
Frowning, he turned away, and walked through the small garden onwards, still looking for the very thing which had lured him here.
"Last I slept, a true sleep... I dreamt of the most beautiful creature. Yet, her memory is lost to me already. Wrested away when I awoke."
Mismatched eyes gaze around him as if taking in the scenery for the first time, alighting to each bright glint which flashed nearby as the clouds widened to let more light through. Windchimes fluttered from a random tree as he passed by beneath it, his gloved hand lifted to trail his fingers through them one by one. The music was wonderful to him, making his breath catch. When last had he heard music?
Jareth sighed heavily, his teeth meeting with a click as his lips thinned.
"The vision began with... a strange tree. Adorned with the greenest leaves I have ever glimpsed, its limbs bore apples of the most startling crimson and gold..."
An incredulous, breathy laugh escaped his mouth as he thought about it, scanning his surroundings and delighting in what he found. Broken as it was, the Labyrinth was still an awe-inspiring structure. It was more than possible that it held such a tree. The likelihood of one of its apples leading him off to a deadly precipice, across from which was a breath-taking woman, was quite the opposite. The Labyrinth contained unsurmountable bounds of magic, but it didn't meddle with fate nor destiny.
He drew to a halt in a narrow corridor, his heart racing painfully in his chest. He knew this too well. It was one of the few from his dreams he recalled in stunning clarity.
The issue was that the wall had crumbled, and was blocking the way.
Rage surged as he stared at the heap of rock, his mind racing off ahead without him to where he knew he needed to go. There was no way forward, and as he turned to leave, he saw there was no way forward. He was trapped.
Outside these walls, the goblins which had brought him here were lingering. Waiting for him to return. Their very safety relied on him, for they were the ones who had saved him from his quarters and taken him out from her clutches at the cost of themselves. He owed them a life debt. Yet here, after all his effort, he had been foiled. By a wall.
A sharp hiss shot through his teeth as he turned again, looking for something which might help him. Something to climb the rubble and continue. To break it apart to walk through. Yet there were no branches, nothing big enough or heavy enough to move anything. Water dripped from around him, turning some of the dirt underfoot to clay, and to mud. Looking ahead of him, he saw most of the bricks from the collapsed wall were still salvageable, and the fae resigned himself to that which was the only possible solution to him.
Jareth was not so proud as to miss the obvious conditions the Labyrinth was setting him for its help. If he were to save himself, he was to save it as well.
He plucked his gloves from his delicate hands and stuffed them into his pocket, then began to roll up his sleeves. Looking skyward, he was met with blinding sunlight, which began to bake down upon him, chasing away the last remnants of cold from his body. Yes, this had been very well orchestrated. He had to admire the maze for its ability to get ahead of him.
It took him a few hours to retrieve the first lot of bricks from the mess and organise them into some semblance of order, in small manageable stacks. Then he began to collect the clay from further back in a large heap, in the shadow he created with the stacked stone. The hole in the wall wasn't by any means traversable, unfortunately enough. And if he were to try to avoid this, the Labyrinth would make sure he was forced to return to it.
Once satisfied, Jareth dropped to his haunches, and after a few breaths, he picked up the first brick. Smashing a sizeable amount of clay atop the bottom remnants of the wall, he set his first brick. Then another. Then another. Then more clay, and another brick.
"If I am to fix you, I beseech you to protect me in kind." Jareth smiled wryly. The smile didn't last long. "If I am to toil here, all I request is a dreamless sleep. Even if for a single eventide, pray grant me peace." His forearm lifted to wipe the sweat from his brow, the strands of hair which had collected there pushed back. "Perhaps, if you feel charitable for my sorry visage, perceive pity, you might keep any attackers from my form as well."
Where the bricks were too broken, he was forced to fashion his own. His magic leeched from him in tiny spikes, absorbed by the bricks and clay as he laid them. Soon, his previous exhaustion began to eat their way back into his bones, slowing his motions until they grew sore.
And he added another brick. Then another. Then another.