Jareth carried the exhausted and sleeping Sarah in his arms out of the Junkyard and into the Goblin City. Most of the goblins were in their houses and asleep, but a few were still out and about, their movements slow and dreamy.
When they saw who was approaching, they stopped and stared at Jareth with wide eyes. But it wasn't just the presence of their king that amazed them – it was who he was holding in his arms.
"The champion..." a goblin whispered reverently. By that they meant Sarah, who had defeated the labyrinth back then. The goblins still had great respect for her, admired her strength and intelligence. But they had also sensed their king's inner conflict when she had won the battle against him and then rejected him.
Jareth walked past the goblins, nodding briefly to them, but his gaze was fixed and full of worry. In his arms he held not only the woman he had long desired, but also the broken shell of a person he had not been able to save. With quick, determined steps he entered the castle, as if the place itself was the only refuge that could still bring him peace.
He led Sarah to a room that he had built himself – long before she had entered the labyrinth. A room just for her, created out of the quiet hope that one day she would stay. But that day had never come. Instead, he was here, with her, under the changed circumstances that had shaken him.
The door opened quietly and Jareth entered. The room was decorated in soft white, with light fabrics hanging everywhere, moving in the air like shimmering veils. Pearls and borders adorned the walls, and the soft light of the candles made everything in the room seem like a dream. A room that had never seen her. A room that had never contained her laughter and her joy of life.
Jareth entered the room, and the silence that surrounded him seemed to expand even further. He laid Sarah gently on the bed, her tattered clothes still on her body. 'What a pity about the dress,' he thought, as his gaze briefly fell on the white fabric that was now streaked with dust and the rubble of the Junkyard. 'It really suited her well.'
But what he regretted more was the silence that now surrounded her. Her eyes were closed, and the slight rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of life she gave.
With a gentleness he would never have thought himself capable of, he leaned over her and carefully removed her shoes. He left her dress untouched. It was not his intention to expose her while she lay in this deep, unshakable calm. Instead, he covered her with the blanket, as if to protect her from the cold of the room and his own dark thoughts.
Jareth sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her as if he were staring at a mystery that refused to reveal itself to him. Her face was peaceful, but the expression was not that of an awakened, living woman. Her eyes moved rapidly under her lids, as if she were dreaming of things far removed from the reality that now surrounded her.
With an almost tender smile, Jareth brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers trembling slightly as they touched her delicate skin. He closed his eyes for a moment as the cold of her skin crept into his hand. "Sarah..." he whispered softly, his voice almost breaking at the sound of her name. "I'll do anything to make you feel better."
He raised his hand and formed a crystal ball that was different from the first ball he had used. It was not round, but star-shaped, like a tiny universe in his hands. Colours flickered in it, wild and chaotic. He held it to Sarah's temple, and in that moment the colours changed. The colourful, lively play gave way to a mixture of warm brown and muted gray as the sphere removed all the emptiness from Sarah's insides.
Colour returned to Sarah's face, and with it a spark of hope. It was a first step, but he knew it would take time. Sarah had to recover, had to become the woman she once was. But Jareth felt that it was a start. And this start, as small as it was, would be the key to her healing.
"I will not give up on you," he whispered softly as he slowly leaned over her. With a gentle smile and a delicate hint of hope that he almost couldn't believe at that moment, he breathed a light kiss on her forehead. It was a kiss that expressed so much more than words ever could – a promise that he would not rest until she was the Sarah he had known. His Sarah.
With one last look at her, full of tenderness and concern, he left the room to immerse himself in the darkness of the night, searching for an answer to the question of how he could prove to her that she could trust him.
