Smoke and Glitter--PG-13
My Labyrinth oneshot...
She burned the pages in her journal and packed her toys up in the attic and shoved everything to the back of her memory, but she still knows it was real. She tries to pretend it wasn't, but every time she feels someone behind her, she hopes for a lingering moment that it's him. There's so much she needs to tell him-things she didn't know needed to be said then, but desperately need to be understood now. She realizes now. She knows everything, she thinks. Yet at the same time she knows nothing. She still doesn't fully appreciate the nature of his feelings, or hers. At twenty, she is still a child longing for the fantasy world of imagination that she willfully shattered four years ago. Kept sheltered and spoiled, the phrase "it's not fair" still escapes from her lips with regularity. Her supposed insight is only the vanity of a childish memory. I will be your slave. She still doesn't understand how much it cost him to tell her what he told her. She still doesn't realize what she has done.
The most ancient of sins is to subvert someone's will to your own, the most forbidden of magics is to tamper with free will. She didn't know this. She was a child making up what she imagined was a childish story. But the Goblin King had fallen in love with the girl and given her certain powers. She thought of no one but herself at the time. She never thinks of anyone but herself. She thinks she understands. She thinks she knows. She thinks she's sorry. He knows she doesn't. He knows she's not. But she will. And she will be.
She hears his voice in the whispering summer breeze and flatters herself that he is still in love with her, that he pines for her. Yet, she is not entirely wrong. Part of his heart will always belong to her. Must always belong to her. He has no choice. However, the rest of him resents that denial of choice. Love has festered in his heart for so long that only hate remains. Love lies buried deep, where it can never be touched again. He too is mistaken, though. For the opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference. He is far from indifferent to her. Her face haunts his dreams; her words cause him to wake up in a cold sweat. You have no power over me. He has always had power. To be without it is inconceivable, yet a girl of fifteen devastated his life with mere words. She made a wish. The wish was not uncommon, but her power was.
Where did she get so much power? How? Did he give it to her, unknowing? Impossible. He had never even known she existed until she spoke the unlucky words that sealed his fate. Power. That's what it all comes down to, really. Power is what he has always craved, the reason he remains trapped in the Underground with half-wit goblins. He rules them. He is King and he has the power. For thousands of years, his power has been absolute. But the price of that power has been loneliness: the horrible isolation of being surrounded by his intellectual inferiors. The monotony of their idiocy has jaded him. He is bored. When she and her baby brother came into his life, he was unprepared for the simple pleasure of seeing an infant grin up at him. He wasn't ready for the feeling of dancing with a beautiful girl in his arms. Love caught him unawares. He tried to fight against it by intimidating her. Yet when she challenged him for the baby, he begged for her love like a child. It isn't fair that she should remain so unaffected as she breaks the heart he has only just become aware that he has. He has always been amused by her complaints of life not being fair. How could she possibly have any grasp of injustice when what she has done to him defies even the most lenient concept of fairness? So he sits, the haughty king, surrounded by his menial subjects, waiting for the day when he can go to her. Then, she will discover what is fair and what is not.
She stands outside in the moonlight and whispers his name. Tonight is the night. They both know it. Leaves rustle in the trees and the air is heavy with anticipation. It has been a long time coming, and come he does. In a swirl of smoke and glitter he stands before her and for the first time in a long time she is afraid. The crystal he twirls now does not contain her dreams; it holds only nightmares.
He looks so pale; she sees the hatred in his eyes and she realizes that she has done this to him. Confronted with the reality that his face holds no pity, no affection, not even the amused condescension she remembers so well, she backs away. This isn't happening. None of it is real.
He says her name then, and it is real. He takes a step toward her and this time she stands her ground. His voice is like silk, caressing her, wrapping around her body and pulling her to him.
"Please," she whispers, and she's not sure what she's asking. He takes another step. A tear rolls down her cheek. "I'm sorry." He smirks. "I didn't mean…" Her tears continue to fall silently, though he hasn't touched her, hasn't spoken a word except for her name. "God, say something, anything, just…" He lifts a sardonic brow.
"What would you have me say, Sarah?"
He's not ready. Years of envisioning this moment haven't prepared him for the reality of her standing before him. Her tears pain him, yet at the same time he feels a wicked satisfaction with each tear that falls from her cheek to the ground.
"You have destroyed my Labyrinth." And he hasn't the power to rebuild it. This he cannot tell her. He won't explain to her the desolation her childish will has wrought on his life and those of his Labyrinth's inhabitants. She can't ever know of the wreckage and squalor he lives in. She has too much power already; to give her this knowledge would tip the balance overly far.
"What do you care? It doesn't matter to you what happens to your Labyrinth." She angrily wiped the tears from her face. "You don't care about anything at all."
There's that defiance again. The same slight flaring of the nostrils and indignant tilt of chin. He remembers it well and smiles in spite of himself. For all of her posturing and grown-up looks, she is still a child underneath.
"Poor Sarah… So righteous. I admire your conviction, I really do. There are precious few people in the world who can assert their superiority and claim the moral high ground with as much confidence and certainty as you do. You cry out that it's not fair with such assurance, that it's hard not to believe that everything is exactly as you say it is."
"You're mocking me now."
He merely smiles, flashing pointed teeth. He does not blink as she waits for a response that he is not going to give.
"I'm not sixteen, you know. I'm not afraid of you anymore."
"What a pity. I suppose I'll just have to teach you to fear me all over again, now won't I, Sarah?" He takes a step toward her, close enough to touch her.
"What's that supposed to mean?" She hates the trembling in her voice.
He reaches out and touches her face. She does not pull away.
"I have waited for you, Sarah. Four long years I have waited for you. Are you ready now?"
"Ready for what?"
She really is as naïve as she has always been. She has made him love her, but she has not changed who he is. He is the King. He will not be denied. He reordered time for her and she destroyed him without a thought. It is time now for her to right her wrongs. It is time for him to take back his power.
"To come back."
""Back? To the Labyrinth?" She backs away, shaking her head. "No. No. I'm not going back there. You can't take me back there."
He laughs now, amused by her unwillingness. "Silly girl… Did you honestly think I was going to leave you here forever?" He stops smiling. "I have let you grow up Sarah, although I must say you didn't do a very good job of it. I have spent four years in a broken castle in a broken land. You broke them, Sarah. Now you will mend them. You will set them right."
Sympathy was not something she expected to feel for him. The realization that she destroyed his life and his home moves her heart to pity. Once again she knows that what she has done is unforgivable. How to fix it? She moves toward him again, compassion in her eyes. She reaches to touch him.
He pulls away. He has given away too much. The kindness in her eyes makes him angry. She is not supposed to feel sorry for him. He is here to play on her fear, not her sympathy.
"No," he tells her firmly. "Do not touch me, Sarah, or you will regret it. I have no love left in my heart for you. There is nothing in me for you."
"Then leave me alone!" She is tired of his games now. "I don't know what you want from me! You show up here telling me you've waited for me and that I have to fix what I've messed up, but you won't tell me how to do it. You tell me you're taking me back to the Labyrinth and get angry when I say I won't go, but when I try to come near you, you push me away. What is it you want to hear me say? I'm not sure you even know. If you figure it out, let me know. I'm going inside for now. Goodbye, Jareth."
She turns to leave, but his voice stops her.
"Fear me. Love me. Do as I say and I will be your slave."
She turns back to him with a sigh. Again she is struck by his almost sickly pallor. She doesn't know what to believe. It could all be a trick to get her to come back. His eyes are haunted, though. For an instant, she is reliving the moment when he said those same words to her in the Labyrinth. His pleading eyes held the same desperation, threatening and adoring. She wonders if he really could love her.
"Don't leave, Sarah. Come back with me to the Labyrinth." He touches her face again. "We could be happy, Sarah. We could rule, you and I."
"You mean you would rule me. That's all you want. No, Jareth. I'm going home."
She turns to go again.
He grabs her arm. "It's not that simple, Sarah. You're not going anywhere." He hates her. Hatred is what has kept him alive these four years. So why can't he let her go? Why can't he fight back the feelings she stirs inside him? Feelings he thought were dead.
"Let me go, Jareth." She tries to keep her voice calm, but it is laced with fear and she knows it.
"No." He yanks her towards him. Their lips meet and the world explodes. One arm is wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her to him. His free hand grips the back of her neck, twining in her hair. He is not gentle. His mouth moves violently over hers and she yields as he always knew she would. She moans softly and he knows he has won. He is the one with power now.
When he lets her go, he is delighted by her dazed look. He will take her back to the Labyrinth soon and make her his queen. They will rule over his Labyrinth and rebuild it. He recalls the desolation of his home and his previous hatred comes flooding back to him. Queen? Whatever possessed him to think of that? He shouldn't have come here. He wasn't ready. Don't tell me truth hurts, little girl, because it hurts like hell. He wants to despise her. He wants to hurt her, to destroy her as she has destroyed him.
"Come, Sarah. We won't be gone long." His voice is colder now, but she doesn't notice.
"Only forever," she whispers, still dreamlike from his kiss.
He smiles.
"Not long at all."
He extends a hand to her and as soon as she places her fingers in his, they are gone. Only a few stray bits of glitter are left to hint that they have been there at all.
She burned the pages in her journal and packed her toys up in the attic and shoved everything to the back of her memory, but she still knows it was real. She tries to pretend it wasn't, but every time she feels someone behind her, she hopes for a lingering moment that it's him. There's so much she needs to tell him-things she didn't know needed to be said then, but desperately need to be understood now. She realizes now. She knows everything, she thinks. Yet at the same time she knows nothing. She still doesn't fully appreciate the nature of his feelings, or hers. At twenty, she is still a child longing for the fantasy world of imagination that she willfully shattered four years ago. Kept sheltered and spoiled, the phrase "it's not fair" still escapes from her lips with regularity. Her supposed insight is only the vanity of a childish memory. I will be your slave. She still doesn't understand how much it cost him to tell her what he told her. She still doesn't realize what she has done.
The most ancient of sins is to subvert someone's will to your own, the most forbidden of magics is to tamper with free will. She didn't know this. She was a child making up what she imagined was a childish story. But the Goblin King had fallen in love with the girl and given her certain powers. She thought of no one but herself at the time. She never thinks of anyone but herself. She thinks she understands. She thinks she knows. She thinks she's sorry. He knows she doesn't. He knows she's not. But she will. And she will be.
She hears his voice in the whispering summer breeze and flatters herself that he is still in love with her, that he pines for her. Yet, she is not entirely wrong. Part of his heart will always belong to her. Must always belong to her. He has no choice. However, the rest of him resents that denial of choice. Love has festered in his heart for so long that only hate remains. Love lies buried deep, where it can never be touched again. He too is mistaken, though. For the opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference. He is far from indifferent to her. Her face haunts his dreams; her words cause him to wake up in a cold sweat. You have no power over me. He has always had power. To be without it is inconceivable, yet a girl of fifteen devastated his life with mere words. She made a wish. The wish was not uncommon, but her power was.
Where did she get so much power? How? Did he give it to her, unknowing? Impossible. He had never even known she existed until she spoke the unlucky words that sealed his fate. Power. That's what it all comes down to, really. Power is what he has always craved, the reason he remains trapped in the Underground with half-wit goblins. He rules them. He is King and he has the power. For thousands of years, his power has been absolute. But the price of that power has been loneliness: the horrible isolation of being surrounded by his intellectual inferiors. The monotony of their idiocy has jaded him. He is bored. When she and her baby brother came into his life, he was unprepared for the simple pleasure of seeing an infant grin up at him. He wasn't ready for the feeling of dancing with a beautiful girl in his arms. Love caught him unawares. He tried to fight against it by intimidating her. Yet when she challenged him for the baby, he begged for her love like a child. It isn't fair that she should remain so unaffected as she breaks the heart he has only just become aware that he has. He has always been amused by her complaints of life not being fair. How could she possibly have any grasp of injustice when what she has done to him defies even the most lenient concept of fairness? So he sits, the haughty king, surrounded by his menial subjects, waiting for the day when he can go to her. Then, she will discover what is fair and what is not.
She stands outside in the moonlight and whispers his name. Tonight is the night. They both know it. Leaves rustle in the trees and the air is heavy with anticipation. It has been a long time coming, and come he does. In a swirl of smoke and glitter he stands before her and for the first time in a long time she is afraid. The crystal he twirls now does not contain her dreams; it holds only nightmares.
He looks so pale; she sees the hatred in his eyes and she realizes that she has done this to him. Confronted with the reality that his face holds no pity, no affection, not even the amused condescension she remembers so well, she backs away. This isn't happening. None of it is real.
He says her name then, and it is real. He takes a step toward her and this time she stands her ground. His voice is like silk, caressing her, wrapping around her body and pulling her to him.
"Please," she whispers, and she's not sure what she's asking. He takes another step. A tear rolls down her cheek. "I'm sorry." He smirks. "I didn't mean…" Her tears continue to fall silently, though he hasn't touched her, hasn't spoken a word except for her name. "God, say something, anything, just…" He lifts a sardonic brow.
"What would you have me say, Sarah?"
He's not ready. Years of envisioning this moment haven't prepared him for the reality of her standing before him. Her tears pain him, yet at the same time he feels a wicked satisfaction with each tear that falls from her cheek to the ground.
"You have destroyed my Labyrinth." And he hasn't the power to rebuild it. This he cannot tell her. He won't explain to her the desolation her childish will has wrought on his life and those of his Labyrinth's inhabitants. She can't ever know of the wreckage and squalor he lives in. She has too much power already; to give her this knowledge would tip the balance overly far.
"What do you care? It doesn't matter to you what happens to your Labyrinth." She angrily wiped the tears from her face. "You don't care about anything at all."
There's that defiance again. The same slight flaring of the nostrils and indignant tilt of chin. He remembers it well and smiles in spite of himself. For all of her posturing and grown-up looks, she is still a child underneath.
"Poor Sarah… So righteous. I admire your conviction, I really do. There are precious few people in the world who can assert their superiority and claim the moral high ground with as much confidence and certainty as you do. You cry out that it's not fair with such assurance, that it's hard not to believe that everything is exactly as you say it is."
"You're mocking me now."
He merely smiles, flashing pointed teeth. He does not blink as she waits for a response that he is not going to give.
"I'm not sixteen, you know. I'm not afraid of you anymore."
"What a pity. I suppose I'll just have to teach you to fear me all over again, now won't I, Sarah?" He takes a step toward her, close enough to touch her.
"What's that supposed to mean?" She hates the trembling in her voice.
He reaches out and touches her face. She does not pull away.
"I have waited for you, Sarah. Four long years I have waited for you. Are you ready now?"
"Ready for what?"
She really is as naïve as she has always been. She has made him love her, but she has not changed who he is. He is the King. He will not be denied. He reordered time for her and she destroyed him without a thought. It is time now for her to right her wrongs. It is time for him to take back his power.
"To come back."
""Back? To the Labyrinth?" She backs away, shaking her head. "No. No. I'm not going back there. You can't take me back there."
He laughs now, amused by her unwillingness. "Silly girl… Did you honestly think I was going to leave you here forever?" He stops smiling. "I have let you grow up Sarah, although I must say you didn't do a very good job of it. I have spent four years in a broken castle in a broken land. You broke them, Sarah. Now you will mend them. You will set them right."
Sympathy was not something she expected to feel for him. The realization that she destroyed his life and his home moves her heart to pity. Once again she knows that what she has done is unforgivable. How to fix it? She moves toward him again, compassion in her eyes. She reaches to touch him.
He pulls away. He has given away too much. The kindness in her eyes makes him angry. She is not supposed to feel sorry for him. He is here to play on her fear, not her sympathy.
"No," he tells her firmly. "Do not touch me, Sarah, or you will regret it. I have no love left in my heart for you. There is nothing in me for you."
"Then leave me alone!" She is tired of his games now. "I don't know what you want from me! You show up here telling me you've waited for me and that I have to fix what I've messed up, but you won't tell me how to do it. You tell me you're taking me back to the Labyrinth and get angry when I say I won't go, but when I try to come near you, you push me away. What is it you want to hear me say? I'm not sure you even know. If you figure it out, let me know. I'm going inside for now. Goodbye, Jareth."
She turns to leave, but his voice stops her.
"Fear me. Love me. Do as I say and I will be your slave."
She turns back to him with a sigh. Again she is struck by his almost sickly pallor. She doesn't know what to believe. It could all be a trick to get her to come back. His eyes are haunted, though. For an instant, she is reliving the moment when he said those same words to her in the Labyrinth. His pleading eyes held the same desperation, threatening and adoring. She wonders if he really could love her.
"Don't leave, Sarah. Come back with me to the Labyrinth." He touches her face again. "We could be happy, Sarah. We could rule, you and I."
"You mean you would rule me. That's all you want. No, Jareth. I'm going home."
She turns to go again.
He grabs her arm. "It's not that simple, Sarah. You're not going anywhere." He hates her. Hatred is what has kept him alive these four years. So why can't he let her go? Why can't he fight back the feelings she stirs inside him? Feelings he thought were dead.
"Let me go, Jareth." She tries to keep her voice calm, but it is laced with fear and she knows it.
"No." He yanks her towards him. Their lips meet and the world explodes. One arm is wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her to him. His free hand grips the back of her neck, twining in her hair. He is not gentle. His mouth moves violently over hers and she yields as he always knew she would. She moans softly and he knows he has won. He is the one with power now.
When he lets her go, he is delighted by her dazed look. He will take her back to the Labyrinth soon and make her his queen. They will rule over his Labyrinth and rebuild it. He recalls the desolation of his home and his previous hatred comes flooding back to him. Queen? Whatever possessed him to think of that? He shouldn't have come here. He wasn't ready. Don't tell me truth hurts, little girl, because it hurts like hell. He wants to despise her. He wants to hurt her, to destroy her as she has destroyed him.
"Come, Sarah. We won't be gone long." His voice is colder now, but she doesn't notice.
"Only forever," she whispers, still dreamlike from his kiss.
He smiles.
"Not long at all."
He extends a hand to her and as soon as she places her fingers in his, they are gone. Only a few stray bits of glitter are left to hint that they have been there at all.