Into the Woods

MordbidDramaQueen10

Sarah/Jareth

I've yet to do a full-length Labyrinth piece, but here is something that has been rattling around in my mind recently. I hope you enjoy!

-XXX-

Her feet are already aching when it happens. For the past hour Sarah had hiked three treacherous miles of the park's Dogwood Trail. The beauty left her breathless – as had the struggle over boulders, streams, and slopes. Regardless of her weariness, the peace nature's simple beauty allows her is comforting. She came here with the hope of finding some kind of inner tranquility, even if for just a moment. Anxiety has made her stricken these last months. Fresh air, her roommate suggested, might be just the thing to calm her fried nerves. With the sun putting a merry golden cast upon the afternoon, the fall colors blazing on the trees, Sarah was tempted. She slipped out of the apartment quietly, leaving a post-it note on the fridge with the details of where and when.

So far, the walk has been rather effective. Her chest no longer feels quite a tight. She breathes freely. The hike gave her energy and heart, casting all thoughts of deadlines and homework and the future out of her heavy head.

Sarah is just taking a moment's rest when the movement, deep in the wood, catches her eye.

It is a doe. The color of cardboard with bright, liquid brown-black eyes. The timid creature steps forward slightly, head sweeping around to view the scene. She freezes upon seeing the human just below her on the hill.

Sarah lowers her water bottle slowly, eye locked upon the doe. Entranced, she does not wish to scare the deer.

The doe takes another step forward. Sarah's eyes grow wide as she rises steadily, also moving nearer. Stepping on a twig, the snap startles the deer, who takes off bounding. Something tugs at the young woman at the bottom of the hill. An invisible force enchants her, draws her to the fleeing creature. Without a thought, Sarah takes off after her, leaping up the hill to follow.

-XXX-

The sun is hidden by the thick horizon of trees when she finally takes pause. The evening is closing in on her afternoon. Looking around, Sarah realizes hopelessly that she is utterly lost. She does not know these trees, these stones. And there is no path to follow. She is deep in the woods.

For a time, she wanders, searching for a path, a stream, a something. The dark is rising, casting long, blue shadows upon the leafy floor of the forest. With it comes the cold. Sarah zips up her hooded jacket as an attempt to ward off the chill and rubs her hand together.

She has not seen the deer in ages and now curses herself for her foolish impulse. "What would you have done if you caught up to her?" she scolds herself. "It would've never happened, anyways. You idiot, Sarah."

And now her thoughtlessness has gotten her lost. She might very well have to spend the night out here. Her water is nearly gone, there are no protein bars or fruit in her pockets – things she might have normally packed. Worse still, her cellphone is in her car, back at the trailhead. Even if she did have it, what would be the chance that there would be service? If she doesn't find something soon – a path, a stream, a person – Sarah might very well become dehydrated and heavily fatigued. Dangerously so. At this realization, Sarah spends more than a few minutes cursing herself.

When night is fully upon her, she decides she needs to stop walking, before she faints. Curling up at the base of a tree, Sarah briefly attempts to start a fire. But soon she gives up, unable to persuade even a spark from the friction of her sticks. Perhaps it is her freezing hands or the dampness of the wood. Whatever it is, she is done for the day. Too, too weary, the young woman sleeps.

In an oak, on a branch high above, cast into light by the waxing moon, a cream-colored barn owl watches, silent and still.

-XXX-

She wakes just before dawn, when the sky is the color of periwinkles and the air tastes crisp and smoky. She finally finds a stream about a mile away, lead by the tinkling sound of water. Once there, she drinks, long and slow. It's spring-fed, fresh, sweet, almost painfully cold. After sating her thirst and filling her bottle, Sarah moves on.

Time passes too fast for her to keep track of it. Her digital watch reads noon before she knows it, then suddenly the woods have turned all golden in afternoon light.

"Another day gone?" she thinks in despair. The autumn chill, while initially a friendly brisk reminder of the change of seasons, has been biting at her all day. She did not dress for staying out longer than a few hours.

The sun begins to kiss the horizon again. Sarah considers stopping to sleep – she is tired, she has been walking since dawn – but grits her teeth and trudges on. She has to find a road, a house, a town, a something. Her family will be terribly frightened if they don't hear from her soon.

She does not stop for nightfall. Her eyes adjust to the dark, and she moves on, slowly trudging with heavy limbs, ignoring the cold. She thinks of other things. Toby, her classes, her internship, the short-term boyfriend she dumped three weeks ago…

Well. That was a less-than-happy memory. She winces, remembering how Frank had nearly crushed his cardboard coffee cup, brown curls falling over his brooding eyes. She had not meant to sound so crass when she suggested that they didn't get on when discussing anything outside of work. He'd spat something nasty, then left the café, winding his scarf around his neck. "We'd probably get along better if you'd open up for a person, but you've got your nose too high in the air to notice."

The words stung, even now. Did she have her nose in the air? Karen always assured her that her standards were perfectly fine. But maybe Frank was right. Henry, almost two years ago had said something very similar. They'd been dating six months. She had thought she was close to him. But he'd pulled away, sharply, unexpectedly. He broke if off, then acted like nothing beyond mere friendship transpired between them. She was glad when he decided to switch majors and they no longer had the pain of encountering each other in class.

"Not the time to mourn over exs," she murmurs to herself. "Just…keep…walking…."

Her mind wanders aimlessly, so aimlessly, in fact, that she fails to note the seep ravine she's balancing over. By the time she does, Sarah's tripped over one of those pesky roots. She's falling, screaming. Cursing herself and this damned state park. And by the time she hit's the bottom, it's too late to take it back.

-XXX-

She dreams. Sarah dreams of her childhood home. Of classes in big lecture halls. Of playing with Merlin in the park. Of a moon-faced barn owl, wings open wide. Of the deer she'd chased here. But mostly, of the Labyrinth.

She has not truly thought about the Labyrinth in a long time. It has always resided in the back of her mind, a sort of silent, stoic reminder. She doesn't like to think of it much.

Sarah dreams for a long long time. And she doesn't seem to stop dreaming even when she wakes.

A clear, cool voice calls her. "Sarah. Sarah." It is deep and soothing and everything a voice should be. She opens her eyes, seeking the voice's owner.

Thankfully, the moon is high and bright. It banishes the darkness from the narrow ravine. Sarah could make out the high walls of earth and the tall trees ahead that cast long shadows across the floor of dead leaves. She struggles to sit up, hand rising to brush her aching head. Her brain felt fuzzy. Heavy. Dull.

"What happened?"

"Sarah."

"I know I fell…I remember…."

"Sarah."

"And I dreamt –"

"Sarah."

It's the voice again, the one that called her so smoothly from her dreams. It has taken on an urgent tone now. Sarah peers around, trying to discern who – or what – was calling for her attention.

A flash of white draws her eyes. And that's when she sees him. The proud. The arrogant. The Goblin King.

The young woman almost screams at the sight of the Fae. He looks like some kind of rockstar, with his narrow eyes framed by white-blonde hair, tight trousers and half-open shirt, revealing snowy skin. Sarah feels faint. The king, for his part, looks impassive.

"Sarah," he says again, just as he's said it the last five times.

She does not want to see him. She doesn't want to be near him. The Goblin King, her infantile creation, a juvenile fairytale creature, a weak villain ("Only weak because you made him likable," the snippy voice in her head reminds her), is the very last person Sarah Williams wishes to see here. It is not a good moment for her by any means.

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts. "What are you doing here?" the young woman finally says. He always manages to make her feel incredibly childish. "Oh, this must be some kind of dream!"

"It's not." He approaches. Sarah balks away. The king takes pause. For all of his pomp and circumstance he appears rather sorrowful. "This is no dream. Sarah. You're –"

He seems to cut off, unable to go on. She waits. She has time to wait - "This is only a dream." - so Sarah examines him. Ashen, his pale face nearly matches his hair, which is not nearly so wild as before. There is nothing glittery or sparkly about the king's attire, either. Dressed simply, the only extravagant thing he wears his the horned crescent pendant around his neck. "A birthright," he had told her once, in a far-away dream. He looks thiner, but not in a healthy kind of way - rather, as though he might blow away at any moment. Disintegrate into the wind without a sound or thought.

The Goblin King pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. "Sarah," he begins again. "You're dead, Sarah."

The young woman, still sitting, stares. Her dark hair whips across her face with the evening breeze. Sarah cannot be bothered to push the stray strands back. Unable to breathe, she sits, cold, mouth slightly agape. The king approaches slowly, kneeling before the trembling champion. He stops short of her, gazing down sadly.

"Look."

At his gesture, Sarah turns slowly to peer behind her. A still figure lies among the decaying leaves, shadowed in dark by an outcropping of a few large rocks. The shape is relatively indistinct. She can see just enough, however, to make out what she least wishes to see. Sarah gasps, crawling on her knees. Nearing, she can start to make out a few details of the figure. Long, dark hair. Pale skin. Half-open eyes – once, sparkling green, now, flat and lifeless. Blood trickles out of a full-lipped mouth.

Sarah turns away to vomit into the leaves. The Goblin King follows, one hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder. Once the retching is through, she shakes her head, weeping.

"No, no, no," she cries. "This is just a dream. Only a dream!"

"Sarah," the king whispers behind her, pushing back the hair from her clammy neck. "Sarah, I'm sorry."

"It cannot be!"

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

Sinking to her knees, Sarah hunches over, facing the ground, attempting to claim desperate breaths. The dam breaks; shuddering, the young woman cries out. The sound rebounds throughout the trees, echoing through the ravine.

The Goblin King briefly leaves her side. He kneels before the once-living Sarah. A hand goes to caress hair, drawn down to the side of her face, stopping to cup her painfully white cheek. Gently, the Fae slid her forest-colored eyes closed one final time, following suit with his own eyes. Somberly, he rose to return to the Sarah crying into the air.

She is drawn against his chest. Without reluctance, the young woman turns into the Fae. He strokes her hair and waits her sorrow out.

Once she has finished, Sarah gazes up at the Goblin King. "What's happening? Why am I still here?"

He remains silent for several minutes before finding the right words. "You're a champion of the Labyrinth."

"So that means I get a free pass to be a ghost? Wander Walden Pond State Park and harass tourists?" Her voice catches. "What does this mean, Jareth?"

He's never heard her use his name before. It surprises the king. He swiftly scolds himself. "Not something to consider right now." Hesitation rules him before he works to answer her question.

"I asked you to stay," he finally says quietly. "And had you stayed, you would've been made Fae. Like me. Like in those stories you loved as a child. And you would never die, Sarah, never. We would've been together until the end of time itself."

She grows still within his arms. The king continues.

"You have a second chance, Sarah. The Labyrinth has given you a second chance at life. You chose to defy fate, so she has granted you a new option. Your mortal life has passed you now. Come back to the Labyrinth with me."

She is quiet. The night around them has stilled. Jareth tries again.

"You were not meant to die in the bottom of this ravine, Sarah Williams. This is not supposed to be the end of your days." His eyes squeeze shut. "You went against what was expected of you, what fate so generously granted you. I have hated you for it. But here is a new chance. Take the offer I gave you six years ago. Let me put you on my throne, where you are meant to be."

"Or else?"

It is his turn to freeze. "I cannot help you. You shall slip from this world."

"And where would I go?" She leans into him further, head slipping beneath his chin. "If I did not return to the Labyrinth?"

Jareth can scarcely speak. His voice chokes – very uncharacteristic for the cocky king. Sarah makes him do all manners of things uncharacteristic. "You would go on."

He does not need to say more. Sarah more than understands. She shivers against him in cold realization.

"Do not feel as though you must choose to remain with me." He swallows dryly. "Oh, but I wish you would." The king attempts to sound collected. Cool. Normal. "There is peace in moving on, Sarah."

She does not respond for a long time. The grip around Jareth's heart tightens. "You must not be disappoint…she has a right to a normal human life and a normal human death. You cannot be disappointed with her answer."

The Labyrinth had come to him late that night in his sleep. In a bright-white light and whispery voice, she had told him of Sarah's fate. He had seen her wander and fall, had felt the gasp and the crackling pain of broken ribs and a split skull. And he breathed her last breath with her. "Have hope," the Labyrinth spoke gently. "She has been granted a new life – should she choose to accept it. Find your champion, Goblin King."

So he had. It was not difficult. Sarah, it seemed, was always at his fingertips.

He's kept his eye on her since his defeat six years ago. Sarah's heart-wrenching choice to reject his offer was more than enough to catch his interest. Beyond this, she was the first champion in over five centuries. "Special" didn't even begin to cover it with Sarah Williams. It was that very specialness which, even from a distance, drew Jareth to her and ultimately brought him to love her with even more power than some tiny book could ever compelled.

The thought of losing her, truly losing her, makes him want to tear apart the earth, to scream and screech with beastly madness, to destroy and break and ruin because she was not to be anymore. Closing his eyes, the Goblin King held this preemptive rage within. "She still has not made a choice. She is allowed that – a choice. Fate can be denied." And if anyone were to fight fate, Sarah was a willing candidate.

It is still the least he and his Labyrinth could give her. Sarah deserves a choice. Even if it is one she rejects.

She shifts against him abruptly. Jareth looks down at her in surprise. "Sarah?"

Her tear-stained cheeks are gaunt, eyes red, but she has something like hope glinting in that dark green gaze. "I cannot promise to fear or obey you," she starts quietly. "But I could love you, I think, Goblin King."

"That is not necessary," he replies after a good stretch of silence. "There are no conditions. You need not...all I ask is that you accept life, Sarah. Live."

"There are no string attached if you will merely live. Live and I can require nothing more of you than a beating heart and breath in your body. No love or fear or obeying. Live, Sarah -"

"I do. I accept life. With you."

The king cannot speak. Sarah blinks up at him, waiting. Wordlessly, he pulls the girl closer as his stands. Together, they move into the darkness of the deep ravine. Sarah only looks back once to see herself.

"Will anyone ever find me?" she whispers.

"I don't know," he replies. "I am sorry, Sarah."

Her shoulders hunch. He cannot find it within him to feel much regret, however, as he feels the warmth of her skin - given heat by blood, by lungs full of oxygen and life - against his skin. Sarah says nothing as together the Goblin King and the champion lose themselves into the night.

-XXX-

I think this was me channeling my desire for the graphic novel Archaia promised months ago. Anyone know whatever happened to that?

Please review!