We must not look at goblin men

Greetings. His Majesty, the Goblin King, at your service. Leader of the Kingdom of the Goblins, Protector of the Labyrinth, and Master of Dreams are some of the other names I am known by. Sworn to protect and serve the wished-aways. Please, feel free to introduce yourself. I promise I don't bite. Much   [[Indie RP Account for Jareth from Labyrinth. Selective Interaction. Feel free to stop on by and ask questions about him!]]

[universesofcheska]

Return to

°•●LABYRINTH●•°

The new environment around Sarah enthralled her. She marvelled at the architecture of the village, at its population, at the object of this new adventure, and yet... none of it was enough to shake her keen awareness of Jareth's presence and proximity.

More than ever, her attention was leashed to him. And when she thought hard about why that was, she couldn't (or wouldn't) entirely pinpoint it.

Since they'd met, Jareth had claimed for himself a central role in Sarah's imagination. Before, it had been an obsession with winning, with being better than this handsome villain, proving to him that she could do all the things he taunted she could not, had tried to stop her from doing. It had been about snatching victory from underneath his perfect nose.

But it wasn't like that now. Now, the champion and the king were on the same team, and it was a dynamic neither of them were navigating with much grace.

Loathe as she was to admit any such thing, however, Jareth WAS doing a much better job at it than she. All the little (and sometimes even gentlemanly) gestures that he had begun since they'd "made up" were quickly teaching her that getting along was much more rewarding than fighting.

Flies, honey, etc.

Especially when he looked at her like that, when he stood too close, towering; the way he moved around her, gently guiding and minding her; and when he - well, he couldn't be flirting ? - when he said those unexpected, wild things that made the blood rush to her cheeks, knocked her off balance and made her uncomfortable in a way she found she might enjoy.

Before she knew it, she found herself walking closer to him, feeling safer, wanting more kernels of this strange new brand of his attention.

Her mind told her that all these must be more tactics to mess with her; more distractions she shouldnt be trusting. But the feelings in her chest begged to disagree. It was a decade later, and things were different. For better or for worse, they had been reunited in his strange home. Sarah did believe, deep down, that the reason for it was to solve this common and dire purpose.

~

The scowl Jareth had put on her face with his teasing softened when she learned that "grown-ups", too, could be wished away; not just by petulant, unthinking, selfish kids but by other, grown adults who had the capacity to mean it.

She felt a fracture in her heart with every new face they came across, and wondered what rules applied to adults who had done such a thing; who had had such little empathy or control of their words that they'd banished another human being to the unknown. It made her sick, thinking of her cynical, ignorant younger self and innocent Toby.

She knew Jareth could make the Labyrinth more difficult or easier for the runners. What governed the flow of his mercury and mercy? Could he weigh souls against Egyptian feathers?

She couldn't temper this craving, this unending lust for magical knowledge and he seemed to anticipate it because he held a leather-clad finger to her lips just as she was about to open them.

She made a helpless, funny picture: her mouth pressed to his fingers as she pouted up at him, the embers in her eyes striking to life at the show of such impolite dominance. A more sheltered eye might have found the picture obscene.

And that comment about the hayloft before he knocked on the door? It was herculean effort to school her expression into polite greeting as though he had not just made her think about the two of them in bed together, much different from the time he had nursed her back from the Taisteale's effects.

This man was driving her madder than a goblin's chicken.

And he knew it.

~

Gallagher was as much of a Virhaven gentleman as Kingsley had been, that same respect and reverence shining in his eyes as he bent over her hands.

The fact that Sarah was the champion, so respected here more than any other place... made her realize her own symbolism: That a wisher could be so sorry, so full of regret and love that she could be victorious, that that love was strong enough- not just against some awful villain who had stolen a loved one- but against the steadfast guardian of the wished-aways, who asked runners to prove their worth and sorrow, to earn back the precious thing they'd lost...

...Sarah blinked up at Jareth.

He was their protector.

It was SHE who was the villain, reformed.

~

The brewery smelled mouthwatering; bright with a hint of earthy spice, like the last days of summer.

She followed the men, side stepping the adorable piglet fulfilling his duties with zeal.

As Jareth held out the apple toward her, Sarah went wide-eyed. Her mortal manners had her reach out to take it, but she realized half way through that there was much, much more meaning in this.

She met his intense gaze and knew exactly what he was doing.

For a moment, they were standing in the ruins of his tower, him in that white feather cloak she had so often dreamed of, and her in that wrinkled, baggy, poet's shirt she couldn't bring herself to put in the donation box.

A girl, not entirely understanding his offer.

His eyes, back then, had frightened her. Immature dreams swirled in his crystal.

Jareth hadn't wanted her to win, and it had nothing to do with whether she deserved Toby back or how much she had meant those first words to the goblins.

Jareth hadn't wanted her to leave at all. Jareth didn't want her to leave now.

And Sarah wasn't afraid.

She deliberately took the apple from his hand as Gallagher continued the conversation before heading off.

A few quiet moments went by.

“I should warn you, Sarah,” Jareth said to her, raising his head from the vat and glancing in her direction, “The man we are about to visit is a supercilious, cantankerous old podge, but he is the foremost expert in the Labyrinth. Excepting myself, of course.”

He took the final bite of his own apple with unhurried grace, and was about to let it fall from his fingers onto the floor when, after considering for another moment, he wrapped it within a handkerchief and placed it carefully in his pocket.

Sarah took note.

“He may ask you questions that are uncomfortable, but you are not beholden to answer them.” He walked a little closer, his expression no longer quite so teasing. He considered her.

“It would, of course, help if you did. This situation goes beyond anything we have experienced before. I would say that I am worried, but that would be an impossible notion.” He smiled a bit for her, in his teasing way, but it did not reach his eyes. He gestured to the apple in her hand.

“You do know that I would never truly hurt you, don’t you, Precious?” he asked quietly.

There was no questioning his sincerity and concern for the whole predicament. With a new perspective, she was realizing how lost in all this he seemed. She was beginning to understand how much he must care- about her, too. The way he watched out for her, gave her her freedom at every turn, and asked so little of her, that they might work together to heal this home.

Sarah hadn't spent the last decade trying to get back to the Labyrinth just to shy away from uncomfortable questions in it's hour of need.

"However I can help... you can count on me."

With that, she met his eyes, and took a loud, juicy, trust-filled bite of the fruit the Goblin King offered.

~

Sarah imagined that they would find Nilrem in a tall tower, weeding his guests through the use of riddles and charms.

She had been prepared to perform a ritual, to prove herself somehow... or at least look through the hollow of a hag stone. But Jareth lead her up a simple gravel path toward an unassuming, but very well kept cottage at the top of a rocky mountain they had just winnowed to.

The landscaping surrounding the facade was familiar. Tall, decorative hedges framed the home in the corners, shrinking the closer they came to the entrance and framing the driveway in a characteristic, linear manner. Small gnomes sheared the bushes with the help of giant, free-floating rulers, unhurried in their thorough work. There wasn't one fairy in sight.

Aside from the strange angle of the window and door frames, as well as the various beasties at work in the yard, it could have been a human dwelling.

They halted in front of the door. Jareth summoned a crystal bubble and blew it from his fingers. Instead of popping upon contact, it went through the door unharmed, a quiet herald of their presence.

She watched the King bounce on his heels, his arms behind his back; perhaps the most unnkingly she had ever seen him. Almost apprehensive, as he shot her a smile like she was the one that needed reassurance. A far cry from the normal apathetic, unworried confidence he usually exuded.

Noting his shift in energy, she asked, a little smugly (because Sarah knew what it was like to be nervous in front of a teacher) "Where's the brandy?"

Before Jareth could reply, the front door ceased to exist.

In it's place stood a male figure smaller than Sarah.

"Brandy?" A soft, grumbly voice replied.

@kingofthegxblins

[kingofthegxblins]

Trepidation was too hasty a word to describe his emotional state.

A king could never be as such, especially not a king of his magical caliber, pedigree, and Fae ancestry.  

A more fitting word might be discomfort, or better yet, ennui. He quite liked the word ennui. It was deliciously slanted, a sordid little word with just the right undertone of languishing. That word was certainly befitting of a king.

If he were to be honest with himself, he was erring towards something like trepidation. He had come to his mentor’s home riddled with questions, and were that not preposterous enough, he had walked in practically arm-in-arm with his one true love nemesis Champion. There would surely about questions about that, and pointed ones. His teacher was never one to mince words, and especially enjoyed dragging Jareth across the coals when it came to his love life.

One particular conversation came to mind regarding Niamh. It was several years ago, but Jareth could remember it as though it were yesterday…

“You’re still set on this match, then?” his teacher had asked. He had been sitting upright in a beautifully furnished, overstuffed chair the color of ripe plums, with nary a trace of goblin filth upon it. An ever rare circumstance as any in his castle.

“And if I am?” he had answered. His tone had held all the haughty indifference he was capable of producing.

Of course, Nilrem had seen through that. He saw through Jareth at all times, to the monarch’s chagrin. He was the only person in all the realms who could peel away the golden skin of Jareth’s showy pageantry to see the vulnerable man beneath.

“You would be making a mistake.”

Jareth hardly reacted. He rotated his wrist at the silky white cuff, examining a crystal in his other hand. Like his teacher, he was seated in an overstuffed chair. The difference was that Jareth approached sitting like an insect approached water – limbs spread out to their limits, covering the greatest amount of surface area possible.

“You may keep your opinion,” he answered drolly. “It matters not. The result will be the same.”

Nilrem leaned forward in his chair. His patience was limited when it came to his willful pupil, but it seemed that in this particular instance, the old man was willing to stretch it to unconscionable limits. “Jareth,” he started, unafraid to use his student’s given name, king or no, “Be reasonable. You know what she is. She has made no pretense of concealing her prejudices from you. Do you truly believe her to be the best candidate to fit the role of Goblin Queen?”

Jareth laughed, mostly without humor. “Is there, in any realm, such a woman that would fit the role? I myself am not fit,” he said, gesturing to himself, “And yet here I am!”

Nilrem lowered his head and looked at him down his nose. “A Goblin Queen must be able to abide all manner of calamity. She must have strength of character, this much is true…but more than that, she must have imagination.”

Jareth smirked. “Oh, that woman has imagination, believe me.”

Nilrem, familiar with Jareth’s habitual attempt to disarm with innuendo, did not react. He continued. “I haven’t seen any indication that that woman has ever had an original thought in her head. The earth trolls have imagination in spades compared to that shrew.”

The royal’s gaze finally sobered. He directed his sharpened stare towards his teacher, as well as one glove-covered finger. “Listen well, old man,” he began menacingly, “I allow you your liberties, but you’ll do well to keep a civil tongue in your head regarding my future bride.”

The old man rolled his eyes. “I’ll say what I wish, boy, and you’ll do nothing about it.”

Jareth huffed, but did not refute this. He broke eye contact to return to contemplating the crystal in his hand.

After some minutes, Jareth spoke again. “And what else should a Goblin Queen be, in your expert, ancient opinion?”

Nilrem leaned back, steepling his hands over his chest. “Well, let me see,” he started. “Brave, surely. Clever. It would not hurt if she also had a penchant for mischief-making.”

“Those cretins do so enjoy my mercurial ways,” Jareth agreed with a toothy grin.

Nilrem nodded, smiling a little, too. “A streak of heroism would not go amiss, to balance out your rather dastardly disposition.”

Jareth clutched at his chest. “Now, really. You cut me to the quick.”

The older man barked a laugh. He pointed in Jareth’s direction. “You know it to be true. A good queen will have a tolerance for your subjects, not to mention yourself. The best will relish the opportunity to meet you straight on and go toe-to-toe with you.”

Jareth was silent for a time. At length, he chuckled darkly, shaking his head back and forth. “Such a woman does not exist,” he murmured, his tone derisive. “Surely you would not begrudge me whatever companionship I may find in this lonely, tiresome existence?”

 Nilrem sighed. “I would not begrudge you that, Your Majesty.” He gave Jareth a sad smile. “But for all your responsibilities, all the power you hold in the palm of your hands, and your worth as a king besides, let your choice be a careful one. You marry to be king to your future queen, yes, but also, to be husband to your future wife.” He folded his hands, peering down his nose at Jareth with nothing short of respect and fondness. “For your own sake, and the sake of your subjects, let your choice be a woman who deserves you.”

He warmed at the memory, one of many that overtook Jareth’s reverie during his most introspective, quiet moments. He was further warmed by the presence of Sarah at his side, a seeming manifestation of Nilrem’s idea of the perfect Goblin Queen. It was as if Nilrem had, in his insufferable wisdom, poked through Jareth’s psyche and led him to impart all of his hopes and dreams on this frustratingly brilliant and beautiful mortal girl.

Were it not for Nilrem, perhaps Jareth would not have imagined what his future could be. He had been so ready to settle at that time, so ready to grasp whatever pittance of pleasure he could that he had been unable to imagine what true happiness looked like.

This, perhaps, was what he was most afraid of. That Nilrem would meet Sarah and know immediately that Jareth was a lost cause. If he were not very, very careful, with one look, he might convey to his teacher how desperate he was to keep her, the Labyrinth and the Underground be damned.

As if aware of this stream of consciousness, Sarah interrupted his worried thoughts with a knowing, teasing question. “Where’s the brandy?”

Jareth parted his lips to speak, but was prevented from replying by the opening of Nilrem’s front door, mere seconds after Jareth’s crystal had hailed its’ recipient.

His teacher looked just as he had when he had seen him last. Age only grazed the appearance of their kind every few hundred years, and Jareth had last seen Nilrem sooner than that. He remained as he ever was: slightly shorter than Jareth and nearly twice as broad, with a strong forehead, high cheeks, and a proud, Greek nose. There was no hair on his head, aside from two thick eyebrows and a charcoal gray, short, trimmed beard. He met Jareth’s gaze with his piercing orange eyes, a fire roaring, born of intelligence and determination.

“Brandy?” he mentor parroted in his deep voice, the accent reminiscent of Jareth’s, only less aristocratic.

Jareth produced another crystal, and the brandy appeared in his hand. The orange eyes moved towards the bottle, his expression unchanged. He gave a single nod before turning on his heel to head back into the house.

Jareth resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His teacher had a penchant for keeping others on their toes. He would decide what to do with you when he was good and ready, and not a moment prior. “After you, precious,” he said to Sarah, following her into the home.

The space, too, was just as he remembered. The fireplace on the left was dark and cold, the bookshelves on either side too-stuffed with books and loose papers alike. The kitchen on the right was whistling, the kettle atop the stove steaming with gusto. Jareth smirked. Nilrem acted as though he were indifferent to Jareth’s arrival, but he had planned for it nevertheless. The man might not have any reaction to Jareth’s visit, but he had certainly been expecting it.

“Did you fire the brownies again?” Jareth asked airily, skating the tip of one gloved fingertip across a nearby stack of books that laid on the huge, wooden, cylindrical table at the center of the room that took up a great portion of the space. He surveyed the accumulated dust with feigned interest.

He heard, rather than saw, Nilrem snort, his back towards both him and Sarah as he poured hot water into three pewter cups. “You know as well as I, boy, that brownies only clean what they deign needs cleaning, and listen to nary a word from any other.”

Jareth stiffened at being called ‘boy’. He knew Nilrem did it to level the playing field between them. Had he known Nilrem would attempt such antics, he might have left Sarah back at the castle.

He sniffed, pretending as though he hadn’t noticed the slight. “Why you keep the useless creatures around has always been a mystery to me.” He moved further into the room, circumnavigating the table. There were several objects atop it, such as a miscellany of potion-making items, scrolls, stones, feathers, and strangely enough, a very small, sleeping dragon puffing gentle plumes of smoke out of his tiny nostrils. It was no wonder to see such things; Nilrem was always at his research, oftentimes working on several projects at once. Jareth didn’t dare conjecture what the old man was up to these days.

Two of the steaming mugs approached, and Jareth plucked them from the air with clever fingers. He handed one to Sarah with a gentle gesture, and held the other under his nose. A spicy aroma that was all too familiar wafted into the air around them, and a sense of comfort and peace overtook him.

“What is truly mysterious, I think,” Nilrem said, “Is that you can live in a place infested with chickens as well as goblins, and yet you question the integrity of my housekeeping.”

Jareth harrumphed into his cup of tea, cradling the mug between both hands.

Nilrem poured a healthy dose of the brandy into his own mug before walking towards the idle fireplace. With a flourish of his pointer finger and thumb, he summoned a wand from behind his ear, then pointed it at the hearth. A fire immediately kindled, and three chairs appeared. Nilrem gestured to the two that sat side by side, and took the single one that faced them.

“So,” Nilrem said, appraising Jareth over the rim of his mug, “Are you going to introduce me to this young woman, or am I to start guessing her identity?”

“I have no doubt that you already know who she is,” Jareth muttered. He cleared his throat. “May I present Sarah Williams, Champion of the Labyrinth. Sarah, this is Nilrem of Monmouth, High Sorcerer of the Traq’iate Order, Supreme Wizard of the Fae court, esteemed by their Royal Majesties, King Oberon and Queen Titania.”

Nilrem’s face cracked at last. “Your aunt and uncle would be very glad to hear you speak so magnanimously of their court, given your penchant of breaking social convention at every given opportunity.”

Jareth merely waved him away, hoping that Nilrem would provide enough distraction to prevent Sarah from keying in on Jareth’s famous relations.

Nilrem, reading Jareth’s expression, inclined his head at the king before turning to face Sarah. “It is an honor to have the Champion of the Labyrinth at my hearth,” he stated, before gifting her the first smile of the visit. “I think I would be correct in assuming that your visit to this realm, and thus your presence in my home, was not on purpose. Is that right?”

He listened as both Sarah and Jareth filled him in on all the events that led up to their visit. When they had summarized things to his content, he stroked his beard, looking at the fire in contemplation.

“It is as I thought,” he murmured. “The Labyrinth is unhappy.”

Understatement of the century, Jareth thought sardonically.

The sage looked to Jareth, his eyes narrowed. “What have been your efforts thus far to appease it?”

Jareth examined the back of his glove with feigned nonchalance. “The usual. Communed with the behemoth. Made certain it was none of the typical sorts of nonsense that can occur in the Underground. That sort of thing.”

Nilrem clucked his tongue. “That is not enough, not nearly enough.”

Jareth only shrugged, looking around the cottage as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Nilrem shook his head. “There is only one possible explanation that I can think of for why the Labyrinth is so unhappy that it felt the need to bring the Champion back.”

Jareth waited for several heavy seconds, certain that Nilrem, pompous as he was, could not wait to divulge the information he held. It seemed, however, that he was all too content to lord it over them and wait for the moment Jareth would break. He was rewarded when, after those painstaking seconds, Jareth could not take it anymore, and barked a single, “Well?”

The expression on his teacher’s face did not change, but Jareth knew him well enough to know that he was satisfied. Fiery eyes dimmed with gentle compassion as they turned towards Sarah. “Can you explain your state of mind prior to returning to the Labyrinth, Miss Williams?”

The two men listened with even patience as Sarah recounted her experience. Jareth did his best to remain expressionless, but it was difficult. He hadn’t anticipated that Sarah’s life would be so complicated. In days past, he would have secretly enjoyed knowing that things were difficult for her at home, but hearing those things now filled him with nothing less than sympathy. Her will had always been strong, that much was certain. Mettle such as hers had enabled her to beat him all those years ago, and despite everything, he could not have been prouder.

Nilrem nodded slowly. “I see.” He reached out to pat the back of her hand, but did not comment any further. “Well, this is how I see it.” He clasped his hands and laid them on his lap. “The Labyrinth has recognized Miss Williams as Champion of the Labyrinth, and as such, has decided that it has a claim upon the young lady.” He faced her once again, his expression resembling something like pity. “I cannot say if I am sorry to tell you this or not, Miss Williams, but according to the law of the Underground, through your victory, you have a claim to the throne of the Goblin Kingdom.”

Jareth’s stomach leapt. He schooled his expression quickly, and gave an almost-nervous laugh in response. “Surely you are not suggesting that I have lost my crown to a mortal girl?”

Nilrem shook his head. “You and I both know that the Labyrinth has no intention of ever letting you go. No. I hypothesize that the Labyrinth has seen the vacant position of the Goblin Queen, and has deemed Miss Williams to be the proper candidate. In thus selecting her as such, it brought her back.” He stroked his beard once again, looking deep into the flames before them. “In terms of timing,” he murmured thoughtfully, “I would warrant that the statute of limitations for Sarah’s voluntary return ran out.”

“Meaning?” Jareth asked, archly.

Nilrem shrugged. “In essence, you did not bring her back, and she did not come back of her own volition. So, the Labyrinth took things into its’ own hands. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

Jareth did not dare to look at Sarah. His heart was beating faster than it had, perhaps ever, beat before. “I see,” he said slowly. “And what, pray tell, do you propose we do about this?”

The older man blinked. “Besides the obvious…?”

Nilrem read the twin blank faces that peered back at him, and he sighed. “Perhaps the simplest solution, then. You must officially make the Champion a member of the Goblin Court. This will enable you to officially recognize her as a Champion of the Labyrinth, and reward her duly. This will satisfy the imbalance and will hopefully allow Sarah to come and go as she pleases, thereby releasing the binding the Labyrinth has placed upon her and allowing you to send her home.”  

Jareth, too, clasped his hands. He sat up, overly-cheerful, his eyes remaining anywhere except upon Sarah. “Of course. Yes. Well, that is easily done! We shall return posthaste and make preparations. A ball will suit for such an occasion, do you not think so?” He did not wait for either of their responses before standing and making for the door. “Come, Sarah. We shall need ample time to prepare a ball in your honor, and we cannot let another minute go to waste.”

[universesofcheska]

Labyrinth 2

    The rain pattered against the window in large splattering drops, drowning out the noise of the family gathering. Sarah Williams sat on the window seat in an uncomfortable position, trying not to forget her posture lest some aunt or grandmother reprimand her again. She wore a cream colored, long sleeved, fitted blouse that extenuated her figure in a way suitable for a college girl. She also wore black slacks and black, flat, mary-jane shoes. Her make up was light, but noticeable; a bit of eyeliner, mascara and red-tinted lip gloss, and she thought herself presentable.     Her gray-green eyes followed the swaying of the pine trees against the inky sky, their image contorted by the rivulets of water coming down the window. A brilliant flash of lightening broke her out of her reverie and she blinked a few times, coming back into the present. Glancing around the room anxiously, she saw almost her entire extended family mingling amongst themselves, some drink or another in hand. Her stepmother was busy clearing plates from the Easter table, just then catching the eye of the young woman.     “Oh Sarah, won’t you snap out of your newest day dream and come help with the dishes?” Irene asked impatiently. A question she had posed numerous times before.     “Yeah, of course. Sorry.” Sarah shook her head, sincerely frustrated with herself for not being more of a help that night. While the relationship between her and her stepmother had considerably softened over the last couple of years, she knew there was an impending string of complaints she would hear about her behavior that night.     Sarah had been withdrawn and unhappy the last few days, in a sensitive mood, and noticing the most depressing details; especially as she tried socializing with her relatives. Somehow, they never ceased to remind her of her own silliness or inadequacies, furthering how self conscious she really was. Other than that, she knew she could mostly blame the new stressors of college life, but there was something else bothering the girl entirely.     Lately she had been resenting the adult identity she was trying so hard to get comfortable with, finding herself disappointed with the realities of independent life. She was second-guessing herself in everything and feeling terribly lonely among her group of geeky friends and their handsy boyfriends. And to tack on to that, she had this dark, ugly butterfly flitting about her stomach, causing her to feel very high-strung; an omen of some future turmoil, she was sure, though she could not put her finger on what that could be.     And something about this night reminded her of the past. Another nerve-wracking day in history when a dangerous storm raged outside, when she was feeling similarly stressed and misunderstood just before finding her baby brother missing… No. She shoved the frequently-visited memory back with ease, having gotten so much practice with that already. It wasn’t real. That dream, that stupid play she had morphed into her own creation four years ago, was the last thing she needed to be thinking about right then.  That’s all it was, she had convinced herself, after all the pressure to grow up and be normal. A ridiculously intricate and vivid waking dream.  She always did have a wonderful imagination…     She rose and joined the other woman in cleaning up while the children of her cousins weaved between all the adults and furniture in the room, never not being in the way. She rolled her eyes as she reached across the table. For the past few years, Sarah had been trying valiantly to “grow up” and detach herself from her childish ways which garnered her so much ridicule from her peers and guardians alike. Especially when she had started implying that she had seen things, achieved things, been places that no one else had. It had been a difficult task to let those fierce beliefs of hers go, but she had done it; at least, mostly. Being a mature, normal woman truly was a goal of hers, and that goal demanded that she quit believing in things like the supernatural.     At the moment, though, she was almost jealous of her younger family members and their freedom to indulge in their imaginations- and their innocent nature. But she was nineteen now- basically an adult. And she was almost convinced that there was nothing she could possibly have in common with children or preteens. All the stories she used to read and write, all her comforting toys, all of her glorious costumes had either been given up or hidden away (except for the select few closest to her heart). Her room was now much emptier, decorated with tasteful furnishings and laden with school supplies. It made her feel like she was pretending even more than before. But if she wanted to be just like her other ordinary nineteen year old friends, she had to start acting like it, right?     The thunder following the lightening bolt shook the house, causing the children to scatter and squeal louder, chasing one another even faster. Hands full of tableware, Sarah blew her dark bangs from her eyes, shaking her head so the rest of the long strands would fall neatly behind her. She couldn’t bring herself to cut her hair, even now. The other girls in her freshman class at University all had stylish, edgy cuts, but she just couldn’t part with her natural, historical look. She had gotten it a little layered since it was ungodly thick and she didn’t want to look like a total outcast, but the pleas of her friends to get it highlighted always fell on deaf ears.     She pushed through the door into the kitchen, hoping no one would come out the other way, and found Toby sitting on the counter next to the sink, talking to their father.     “I told you I‘d win!”     “Yeah, yeah Toby, you won alright.“ Robert kindly responded, tousling his sons hair before picking up a stack of dishes to put away.     “I don’t know if it’s healthy for a five year old to be that good at video games.” Sarah interjected with her usual superior tone, placing her own pile of dishes next to the sink and starting to scrub them down.     “Sarah you should have seen it! I beat him in like 40 seconds, I just went Pow! Bam! Slam and then my special combos, and he was dead!” Toby’s eyes shone with excitement as he recounted the riveting experience. Nowadays, his expressions hardly ever failed in softening his big sister’s attitude. The corners of her mouth lifted a little bit as she “uhuh”-ed along to her kid brother’s story.     “Yeah, right. Go get me another washcloth.” She lifted her chin to indicate the drawer she meant and tried not to smile as Toby slid off the counter and immediately began helping her. They loved one another indescribably, and she was no where near resisting his demonic sweetness the way she was when she was fifteen. They dried the silverware together, bantering like siblings should. Then the doorbell rang.       Sarah knew who it was immediately. The storm might have been raging outside, but inside the house it had just been the calm before; her mother’s entrance brought the tempest inside. Robert stopped what he was doing and tensely made his way to the front door to greet her. The house went silent for a moment, aside from Merlin‘s barking; then the rest of the family began awkwardly greeting the estranged ex-Mrs. Williams. The situation was especially weird, as more than half of the people in the house were on Irene’s side of the family. Jeremy, her new husband, was with her of course. A bemused expression graced his face as his slightly drunk wife hugged everyone.     “See, Grandma Williams? I tooold you we’d make it tonight before it got too late. You doubted me but here we are. What’d we miss? Where’s Sarah?” The thunder boomed again. Sarah closed her eyes, now understanding her doom-and-gloom feeling from before. Toby looked up at her with concern.     Linda had always been Sarah’s favorite person, her role-model in all aspects of life. She had always wanted nothing more than to move in with her and be an actress, just like her and Jeremy. But Irene had been right, no matter how many times Sarah had fiercely denied it. Linda had chosen her career over being there for her daughter. And Sarah had finally come to understand that.     She wasn’t one of those bitter, divorced kids- well, she was a little, but perhaps her maturity had shone through most in this aspect of her life. She understood that her mother had made the best choice for herself. That she wasn’t meant to be a stay-at-home mom, that she had big dreams and a big… man to chase. A life outside her family. And as a result, Sarah had simply grown closer to her father. Irene would never be any sort of replacement, of course, but Linda wasn’t that reliable of a mother to begin with, so there was no tension there.     Now that Sarah was older, Linda had the knack for showing up at the house randomly to take Sarah out shopping or to other girly activities, with the intention of sprucing her up. ‘Modernizing’ her, as she called it. This was uncomfortable enough for Sarah, but Linda’s uninvited presence was what usually set Irene off, and more often than not the two women got very catty with one another. Sarah had hoped this particular family function could go smoothly, without that volatile situation since she had already been feeling awful, but Linda and Jeremy had been invited. And here they were. Two hours late, loud, and a little under the influence. Maybe they would get tired soon and leave.     “Is that Linda?“ Came Toby’s little voice. Sarah looked down at Toby and nodded, taking his hand and silently walking toward the door.  Pasting a strained smile on her face, she pushed through and took in the sight of her aunt pouring her mother a glass of wine.     “Hi mom! I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.” Sarah began. Linda enthusiastically replied just like she had to her ex-mother-in-law, defending her past actions as usual. The crowd quietly went back to socializing. Mother and daughter sat down together, and Toby took a seat on Sarah’s lap. The two caught up for a few minutes before Irene saw fit to call Toby over to her, looking none to happy about the situation. The boy reluctantly did as he was told. Sarah pushed her long tresses behind her ears and continued talking, but Irene’s action had caught Linda’s attention immediately. It was only seconds before the opening comments began.     “What’s wrong, Irene? I thought you were happy that the kids were finally bonding.” Came Linda’s argumentative tone.     “Linda. I’m not starting with you tonight.”     “YOU’RE not starting with ME? As though I’ve said anything deliberately rude? I was just saying, Toby looked perfectly happy with Sarah just now.”     Irene scoffed. Another flash of lightening lit up the yard, followed by the noise.     “Mommy?” Came Toby’s unsure voice. As a child, he was especially sensitive to the unease of everyone in the room as the women’s voices began to grow hostile. Robert and Jeremy were already making their way over to the women.     “It’s alright sweetie,” Irene began with an exaggeratedly coddling tone. “Linda’s just in that awful mood she always gets in when she’s been drinking.”     “Oh my Gooodddd…” Sarah rubbed her temples.     “I know you did not just accuse me of being a drunk. Listen, Irene, are you TRYING to ruin Easter for our children?” Linda retorted.     “Ladies…” Robert interjected. The room was silent again as all the cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents waited for the imminent, traditional explosion.     “No, Robert, no. Everyone’s wondering the same thing. Let your wife answer for her bitchiness.” Linda pointed at Irene before bringing her wine glass to her lips. Irene just stared, mouth agape before suddenly moving toward the other woman as though she was about to strike her. Then, she remembered Toby next to her and took a step back, her expression all rage.     “I am not dealing with this anymore. Linda, this is the last time you come to my house and disrespect me like that.” Irene said as calmly as she could manage.     “Oh, so now its YOUR house?” Linda replied.     Sarah slowly rose out of her chair, her cheeks turning red, her eyes filling with hot tears. Robert looked sympathetically at his daughter, searching for the right words to stop the fight before it got any worse. Unfortunately it was far too late.     An explosion of sentences laced with profanities spilled from Linda’s lips, in harmony with the thunder from outside. Irene began yelling back and Toby covered his ears and began to cry. The husbands did their best to diffuse the situation, as did the rest of the family present. Some jumped into the conversation to defend either woman, others tried to follow Sarah up the stairs only to be politely asked to please NOT. And so another, even more public war broke out in the Williams household.     It was the bane of Sarah’s existence. Why, oh why couldn’t they just act like a normal loving family for once? They had always wanted Sarah to assimilate instead of hide inside her fantasies, so why couldn’t they give her some kind of incentive? The farther away she got from the shouting the faster Sarah went, running up the stairs, breathing hard. It was all so embarrassing and awful. She felt like a kid, like a failure, with a dysfunctional, shameful family. This was supposed to be spring break, a time for fun and relaxing, a time to indulge in more grown up pleasures. Intellectual conversation, reading, cooking, concert-going, dancing. And this is what she had to deal with instead.     She groaned as she heard Toby start to wail from downstairs, accompanied by a “See what you’ve done? Again?!” from Irene. It was Sarah’s habit now to calm him down and solve his problems, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about his confusion and discomfort at that moment.     The thunder crashed outside again loudly and a new torrent of rain splashed against the windows of the upper floor. Lightening lit up the white-carpeted rooms with blue flashes, casting crazy shadows on the walls as Sarah made her way down the hall to her room. She expertly ignored the tricks her mind began to play on her using the dark forms dancing around the furniture.     “This is insanity. Always the same thing, always this crap! And I’m stuck in the middle of it! …It‘s not fair!” She exclaimed, running a hand through her hair and trying not to cry. She hadn’t said those words or felt this way in so long, having been told just how immature it sounded by a multitude of influential people. But right now she didn’t care how she sounded or how she looked. She’d rather be anywhere besides that cruel and unusual battlefield.     Another thunder clap shook the house and she gave another frustrated shout, hitting the wall with her fist as she passed Toby’s door. Her warpath was abruptly halted when she saw that the balcony doors in her brother’s room were wide open, the curtains flying about and the rain freely pouring onto the furniture. Her first instinct was irritation and she quickly wiped her eyes and marched in, reaching out for the doors and shutting them angrily, thoughtlessly. Then, she paused, being hit with a sort of dejavu. She glanced at her hand clutching the window lock, then past the glass at the torrential rain outside. Why was this so familiar?     Oh. That’s right. The open balcony doors, the violent storm… This was where it had begun, where, four years ago, the frightening but beautiful Goblin King came to pay her a visit, where he stole her brother and issued her an impossible challenge. It was just past these doors that she set out on her big adventure in the Labyrinth.

Sarah let go of the lock slowly and sighed, shaking her head, her expression venomous. Quit thinking of that crap  and don’t be ridiculous, she thought. I dreamed that entire thing. None of them- none of it was real. Just a damn play. It always was.     She turned from the window, only to be hit with another wall of angry sound coming from downstairs. She sighed exasperatedly again, her face cinching with frustration; at her family, at her own naivety, at Toby’s crying. Another roll of thunder had Sarah clutching her head, breathing deeply again, trying her very mature method of getting a grip.      Then, the balcony doors burst open once more, and she was hit with cold rain and harsh wind. She screamed in time with the women downstairs. This was real life. This frustration, imperfection, discomfort, unhappiness. This was what grownups knew. There was no such thing as magic, or happy endings, or mysterious kings who fell in love with special girls and granted them wonderful powers. She smiled bitterly and opened her mouth with the intention of cementing these thoughts in her brain once and for all. She spoke calmly, surely.

“I wish I was anywhere but here.” With that, Sarah Williams disappeared into thin air.

[kingofthegxblins]

He could sense Sarah’s head turning every which way as they walked through the town, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of Virhaven. 

He looked about as well, wondering what it was that she saw. He found himself fascinated, eager to know what she was thinking. He wanted to see through her eyes, to know her by knowing how she perceived everything around her. He hungered for anything that would allow him entrance into her inner world, for any chance to get to know her intimately. It would no doubt frighten her to know this was his desire. She would chalk it up to the nefarious scheming of a villain. In truth, it was the simple machinations of a man who was, albeit against his will, very much in love with a mortal girl.

A mortal girl that had once kicked his royal behind, to use the vernacular of Sarah’s world.

They stopped short when they reached Gallagher’s establishment. Modest on the outside, it was anything but. He was just about to turn the doorknob to enter the building when Sarah’s question stopped him short.

“So what exactly is this place? These people… they’re human. But they're not kids, or goblins, and they all know you...Where are they from?" 

He faced away from the door, turning back to look at the villagers. “Oh, here and there,” he responded evasively, his face a clean slate that refused to give anything away. While he appeared nonchalant on the outside, he was positively titillating with impish delight on the inside. He could never seem to resist the impulse to vex her at any given opportunity. Still, he knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until he divulged more information, so he continued on. 

“The answer to your question is a complicated one. But you are correct, Sarah,” he said, facing her. “They are human. More specifically, they are humans that were once wished away.”

He paused, letting that information sink in. Two women walked by, arms linked, their patchwork skirts twirling about their legs as they passed. They spoke in quiet tones to one another, their eyes glancing furtively in his direction. He graced the both of them with a wink and a smile, which promptly made the two dissolve into quiet giggles. 

“It may surprise you to know,” he said once the women had gone, “That humans of all ages are wished away. Admittedly, it is mostly children that are wished away to me, “Jareth stipulated, “But over the many years that I have been on the receiving end of this…transaction,” he said, his voice crusted over with salt, “Some number of human adults have been sent Underground. And as you may assume, it puts my charming self in a not-so-enticing bind.” 

He put a leather-clad finger to Sarah’s lips to prevent her from questioning him any further. “Enough of that for now. I promise to get to all of your burning questions later, Precious. I am hoping to make quick work of this errand so that we do not have to spend the night away from the castle. The very thought of sleeping in a hayloft? Abhorrent.” He gave a delicate, facetious shudder. “Although if it were a cozy hayloft for two, I may be amenable.” 

He waggled his eyebrows at Sarah, and before she had a chance to respond, promptly made two quick raps upon the door with his knuckles. 

The hinges of the worn oak door protested noisily as a man with springy ringlets of russet hair that grew with a flourish from his chin and not at all from his crown appeared in the doorway. He was almost as wide as the door, built for rolling barrels and pushing carts stocked with his wares. “Jareth!” The man stepped forward, vein-corded arms the size of melons reaching out to embrace Jareth with jovial enthusiasm. Jareth met him, and they clasped each other around the shoulders. The familiar scent of apples met Jareth’s nose almost immediately. The smell was sweet and homey, and made Jareth long for something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“It has been an age. How have you been?” the large man asked, the brogue accent from his past now softened with absence from his homeland.

“I am always well,” Jareth replied efficiently. “May I present Sarah Williams, Champion of the Labyrinth?” He didn’t know why he bothered to announce her. Everyone knew who she was. 

Gallagher’s eyes found Sarah, and they widened. “Ah, me! This is the Champion of the Labyrinth?” 

Jareth was saved the work of confirming when Gallagher stepped to Sarah and grasped ahold of her hands. “Dear lass,” he said in warm tones, bending over to kiss the back of each hand, “You are most welcome here.” When he straightened, he looked straight into her face, his bark-colored eyes glittering.

“We have come to relieve you of a bottle of your finest digestif.” Jareth pat the outside of his thigh, right over the shimmering, dark blue cloak he wore. A familiar jingling sound rang out as he did so. “I’ve coin to spare.” 

Gallagher shot Jareth a dark look. “You know that you cannae walk through these streets as such, Jareth. Your coin has no value here.” 

To any outsider, the comment would be the gravest insult, but Jareth understood his meaning. The length of their acquaintance had worn away any chances for misunderstanding.

“You would insult me to reject it,” Jareth reminded him, keeping his tone level for Sarah’s sake. He did not need to lose his temper in the middle of the street, even if he did suffer affection for the stubborn Scot.

Gallagher bristled, but did not argue any further. “Come inside, then, before that ruckus invites some grimy pixie to my door,” he groused, nodding towards the jingling at Jareth’s side. 

The tension receded, and Jareth smiled beatifically. “With pleasure,” he answered, sweeping inside the establishment. 

An even stronger scent of apples greeted Jareth as the three of them walked inside. The inside of the building was dark and warm, the air heavy with spice. Several vats were stationed around the large room, billowing cyclones of steam emanating from the tops of each. Supplies of the brandy-making sort were scattered throughout. Mashed apples, ready to be distilled down, were housed in crates that piled towards the ceiling. Skins and seed-dotted cores were scattered throughout the ground, picked-up intermittently by a snuffling piglet that was wandering underfoot. 

And of course, barrels of fresh, red, waxy apples. 

As they passed one such barrel, Jareth wordlessly plucked an apple off the top and bit into the flesh, reveling in the sweet flavor. He snatched another fruit with clever fingers and held it out to Sarah. He gave her a most rakish glance, the weight of almost ten years of unresolved issues regarding fruit projected in that one look. 

“I assume you’ve come for one of the bottles of ‘62?” Gallagher asked, interrupting the significant moment.

Jareth turned to Gallagher, his expression untroubled. “You assume correctly.” He took another bite of the apple, his eyes searching around the premises with easy curiosity. 

“I’ll just run for it, then. If ye two wouldn’t mind waiting for just a mo’,” he asked deferentially, more to Sarah than to Jareth, “I’ll be back shortly.” 

Jareth waved him off unconcernedly, his head craning down to look into one of the vats. It smelled ghastly from up close, but he knew it would soon become the most magnificent concoction. With the priceless ‘62 in hand, he was sure Nilrem would answer his questions. Ideally, with minimal lecturing, and even more ideally, zero riddles. 

“I should warn you, Sarah,” he said to her, raising his head from the vat and glancing in her direction, “The man we are about to visit is a supercilious, cantankerous old podge, but he is the foremost expert in the Labyrinth. Excepting myself, of course.” He took the final bite of the apple in his palm with unhurried grace, and was about to let it fall from his fingers onto the floor when, after considering for another moment, he wrapped it within a handkerchief and placed it carefully in his pocket. One could never be too vigilant in protecting themselves from malicious spellwork. “He may ask you questions that are uncomfortable, but you are not beholden to answer them.” He walked a little closer, his expression no longer quite so teasing. He considered her. “It would, of course, help if you did. This situation goes beyond anything we have experienced before. I would say that I am worried, but that would be an impossible notion.” He smiled a bit for her, in his teasing way, but it did not reach his eyes. He gestured to the apple in her hand. “You do know that I would never truly hurt you, don’t you, Precious?” he asked quietly.

[universesofcheska]

Labyrinth 2

    The rain pattered against the window in large splattering drops, drowning out the noise of the family gathering. Sarah Williams sat on the window seat in an uncomfortable position, trying not to forget her posture lest some aunt or grandmother reprimand her again. She wore a cream colored, long sleeved, fitted blouse that extenuated her figure in a way suitable for a college girl. She also wore black slacks and black, flat, mary-jane shoes. Her make up was light, but noticeable; a bit of eyeliner, mascara and red-tinted lip gloss, and she thought herself presentable.     Her gray-green eyes followed the swaying of the pine trees against the inky sky, their image contorted by the rivulets of water coming down the window. A brilliant flash of lightening broke her out of her reverie and she blinked a few times, coming back into the present. Glancing around the room anxiously, she saw almost her entire extended family mingling amongst themselves, some drink or another in hand. Her stepmother was busy clearing plates from the Easter table, just then catching the eye of the young woman.     “Oh Sarah, won’t you snap out of your newest day dream and come help with the dishes?” Irene asked impatiently. A question she had posed numerous times before.     “Yeah, of course. Sorry.” Sarah shook her head, sincerely frustrated with herself for not being more of a help that night. While the relationship between her and her stepmother had considerably softened over the last couple of years, she knew there was an impending string of complaints she would hear about her behavior that night.     Sarah had been withdrawn and unhappy the last few days, in a sensitive mood, and noticing the most depressing details; especially as she tried socializing with her relatives. Somehow, they never ceased to remind her of her own silliness or inadequacies, furthering how self conscious she really was. Other than that, she knew she could mostly blame the new stressors of college life, but there was something else bothering the girl entirely.     Lately she had been resenting the adult identity she was trying so hard to get comfortable with, finding herself disappointed with the realities of independent life. She was second-guessing herself in everything and feeling terribly lonely among her group of geeky friends and their handsy boyfriends. And to tack on to that, she had this dark, ugly butterfly flitting about her stomach, causing her to feel very high-strung; an omen of some future turmoil, she was sure, though she could not put her finger on what that could be.     And something about this night reminded her of the past. Another nerve-wracking day in history when a dangerous storm raged outside, when she was feeling similarly stressed and misunderstood just before finding her baby brother missing… No. She shoved the frequently-visited memory back with ease, having gotten so much practice with that already. It wasn’t real. That dream, that stupid play she had morphed into her own creation four years ago, was the last thing she needed to be thinking about right then.  That’s all it was, she had convinced herself, after all the pressure to grow up and be normal. A ridiculously intricate and vivid waking dream.  She always did have a wonderful imagination…     She rose and joined the other woman in cleaning up while the children of her cousins weaved between all the adults and furniture in the room, never not being in the way. She rolled her eyes as she reached across the table. For the past few years, Sarah had been trying valiantly to “grow up” and detach herself from her childish ways which garnered her so much ridicule from her peers and guardians alike. Especially when she had started implying that she had seen things, achieved things, been places that no one else had. It had been a difficult task to let those fierce beliefs of hers go, but she had done it; at least, mostly. Being a mature, normal woman truly was a goal of hers, and that goal demanded that she quit believing in things like the supernatural.     At the moment, though, she was almost jealous of her younger family members and their freedom to indulge in their imaginations- and their innocent nature. But she was nineteen now- basically an adult. And she was almost convinced that there was nothing she could possibly have in common with children or preteens. All the stories she used to read and write, all her comforting toys, all of her glorious costumes had either been given up or hidden away (except for the select few closest to her heart). Her room was now much emptier, decorated with tasteful furnishings and laden with school supplies. It made her feel like she was pretending even more than before. But if she wanted to be just like her other ordinary nineteen year old friends, she had to start acting like it, right?     The thunder following the lightening bolt shook the house, causing the children to scatter and squeal louder, chasing one another even faster. Hands full of tableware, Sarah blew her dark bangs from her eyes, shaking her head so the rest of the long strands would fall neatly behind her. She couldn’t bring herself to cut her hair, even now. The other girls in her freshman class at University all had stylish, edgy cuts, but she just couldn’t part with her natural, historical look. She had gotten it a little layered since it was ungodly thick and she didn’t want to look like a total outcast, but the pleas of her friends to get it highlighted always fell on deaf ears.     She pushed through the door into the kitchen, hoping no one would come out the other way, and found Toby sitting on the counter next to the sink, talking to their father.     “I told you I‘d win!”     “Yeah, yeah Toby, you won alright.“ Robert kindly responded, tousling his sons hair before picking up a stack of dishes to put away.     “I don’t know if it’s healthy for a five year old to be that good at video games.” Sarah interjected with her usual superior tone, placing her own pile of dishes next to the sink and starting to scrub them down.     “Sarah you should have seen it! I beat him in like 40 seconds, I just went Pow! Bam! Slam and then my special combos, and he was dead!” Toby’s eyes shone with excitement as he recounted the riveting experience. Nowadays, his expressions hardly ever failed in softening his big sister’s attitude. The corners of her mouth lifted a little bit as she “uhuh”-ed along to her kid brother’s story.     “Yeah, right. Go get me another washcloth.” She lifted her chin to indicate the drawer she meant and tried not to smile as Toby slid off the counter and immediately began helping her. They loved one another indescribably, and she was no where near resisting his demonic sweetness the way she was when she was fifteen. They dried the silverware together, bantering like siblings should. Then the doorbell rang.       Sarah knew who it was immediately. The storm might have been raging outside, but inside the house it had just been the calm before; her mother’s entrance brought the tempest inside. Robert stopped what he was doing and tensely made his way to the front door to greet her. The house went silent for a moment, aside from Merlin‘s barking; then the rest of the family began awkwardly greeting the estranged ex-Mrs. Williams. The situation was especially weird, as more than half of the people in the house were on Irene’s side of the family. Jeremy, her new husband, was with her of course. A bemused expression graced his face as his slightly drunk wife hugged everyone.     “See, Grandma Williams? I tooold you we’d make it tonight before it got too late. You doubted me but here we are. What’d we miss? Where’s Sarah?” The thunder boomed again. Sarah closed her eyes, now understanding her doom-and-gloom feeling from before. Toby looked up at her with concern.     Linda had always been Sarah’s favorite person, her role-model in all aspects of life. She had always wanted nothing more than to move in with her and be an actress, just like her and Jeremy. But Irene had been right, no matter how many times Sarah had fiercely denied it. Linda had chosen her career over being there for her daughter. And Sarah had finally come to understand that.     She wasn’t one of those bitter, divorced kids- well, she was a little, but perhaps her maturity had shone through most in this aspect of her life. She understood that her mother had made the best choice for herself. That she wasn’t meant to be a stay-at-home mom, that she had big dreams and a big… man to chase. A life outside her family. And as a result, Sarah had simply grown closer to her father. Irene would never be any sort of replacement, of course, but Linda wasn’t that reliable of a mother to begin with, so there was no tension there.     Now that Sarah was older, Linda had the knack for showing up at the house randomly to take Sarah out shopping or to other girly activities, with the intention of sprucing her up. ‘Modernizing’ her, as she called it. This was uncomfortable enough for Sarah, but Linda’s uninvited presence was what usually set Irene off, and more often than not the two women got very catty with one another. Sarah had hoped this particular family function could go smoothly, without that volatile situation since she had already been feeling awful, but Linda and Jeremy had been invited. And here they were. Two hours late, loud, and a little under the influence. Maybe they would get tired soon and leave.     “Is that Linda?“ Came Toby’s little voice. Sarah looked down at Toby and nodded, taking his hand and silently walking toward the door.  Pasting a strained smile on her face, she pushed through and took in the sight of her aunt pouring her mother a glass of wine.     “Hi mom! I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.” Sarah began. Linda enthusiastically replied just like she had to her ex-mother-in-law, defending her past actions as usual. The crowd quietly went back to socializing. Mother and daughter sat down together, and Toby took a seat on Sarah’s lap. The two caught up for a few minutes before Irene saw fit to call Toby over to her, looking none to happy about the situation. The boy reluctantly did as he was told. Sarah pushed her long tresses behind her ears and continued talking, but Irene’s action had caught Linda’s attention immediately. It was only seconds before the opening comments began.     “What’s wrong, Irene? I thought you were happy that the kids were finally bonding.” Came Linda’s argumentative tone.     “Linda. I’m not starting with you tonight.”     “YOU’RE not starting with ME? As though I’ve said anything deliberately rude? I was just saying, Toby looked perfectly happy with Sarah just now.”     Irene scoffed. Another flash of lightening lit up the yard, followed by the noise.     “Mommy?” Came Toby’s unsure voice. As a child, he was especially sensitive to the unease of everyone in the room as the women’s voices began to grow hostile. Robert and Jeremy were already making their way over to the women.     “It’s alright sweetie,” Irene began with an exaggeratedly coddling tone. “Linda’s just in that awful mood she always gets in when she’s been drinking.”     “Oh my Gooodddd…” Sarah rubbed her temples.     “I know you did not just accuse me of being a drunk. Listen, Irene, are you TRYING to ruin Easter for our children?” Linda retorted.     “Ladies…” Robert interjected. The room was silent again as all the cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents waited for the imminent, traditional explosion.     “No, Robert, no. Everyone’s wondering the same thing. Let your wife answer for her bitchiness.” Linda pointed at Irene before bringing her wine glass to her lips. Irene just stared, mouth agape before suddenly moving toward the other woman as though she was about to strike her. Then, she remembered Toby next to her and took a step back, her expression all rage.     “I am not dealing with this anymore. Linda, this is the last time you come to my house and disrespect me like that.” Irene said as calmly as she could manage.     “Oh, so now its YOUR house?” Linda replied.     Sarah slowly rose out of her chair, her cheeks turning red, her eyes filling with hot tears. Robert looked sympathetically at his daughter, searching for the right words to stop the fight before it got any worse. Unfortunately it was far too late.     An explosion of sentences laced with profanities spilled from Linda’s lips, in harmony with the thunder from outside. Irene began yelling back and Toby covered his ears and began to cry. The husbands did their best to diffuse the situation, as did the rest of the family present. Some jumped into the conversation to defend either woman, others tried to follow Sarah up the stairs only to be politely asked to please NOT. And so another, even more public war broke out in the Williams household.     It was the bane of Sarah’s existence. Why, oh why couldn’t they just act like a normal loving family for once? They had always wanted Sarah to assimilate instead of hide inside her fantasies, so why couldn’t they give her some kind of incentive? The farther away she got from the shouting the faster Sarah went, running up the stairs, breathing hard. It was all so embarrassing and awful. She felt like a kid, like a failure, with a dysfunctional, shameful family. This was supposed to be spring break, a time for fun and relaxing, a time to indulge in more grown up pleasures. Intellectual conversation, reading, cooking, concert-going, dancing. And this is what she had to deal with instead.     She groaned as she heard Toby start to wail from downstairs, accompanied by a “See what you’ve done? Again?!” from Irene. It was Sarah’s habit now to calm him down and solve his problems, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about his confusion and discomfort at that moment.     The thunder crashed outside again loudly and a new torrent of rain splashed against the windows of the upper floor. Lightening lit up the white-carpeted rooms with blue flashes, casting crazy shadows on the walls as Sarah made her way down the hall to her room. She expertly ignored the tricks her mind began to play on her using the dark forms dancing around the furniture.     “This is insanity. Always the same thing, always this crap! And I’m stuck in the middle of it! …It‘s not fair!” She exclaimed, running a hand through her hair and trying not to cry. She hadn’t said those words or felt this way in so long, having been told just how immature it sounded by a multitude of influential people. But right now she didn’t care how she sounded or how she looked. She’d rather be anywhere besides that cruel and unusual battlefield.     Another thunder clap shook the house and she gave another frustrated shout, hitting the wall with her fist as she passed Toby’s door. Her warpath was abruptly halted when she saw that the balcony doors in her brother’s room were wide open, the curtains flying about and the rain freely pouring onto the furniture. Her first instinct was irritation and she quickly wiped her eyes and marched in, reaching out for the doors and shutting them angrily, thoughtlessly. Then, she paused, being hit with a sort of dejavu. She glanced at her hand clutching the window lock, then past the glass at the torrential rain outside. Why was this so familiar?     Oh. That’s right. The open balcony doors, the violent storm… This was where it had begun, where, four years ago, the frightening but beautiful Goblin King came to pay her a visit, where he stole her brother and issued her an impossible challenge. It was just past these doors that she set out on her big adventure in the Labyrinth.

Sarah let go of the lock slowly and sighed, shaking her head, her expression venomous. Quit thinking of that crap  and don’t be ridiculous, she thought. I dreamed that entire thing. None of them- none of it was real. Just a damn play. It always was.     She turned from the window, only to be hit with another wall of angry sound coming from downstairs. She sighed exasperatedly again, her face cinching with frustration; at her family, at her own naivety, at Toby’s crying. Another roll of thunder had Sarah clutching her head, breathing deeply again, trying her very mature method of getting a grip.      Then, the balcony doors burst open once more, and she was hit with cold rain and harsh wind. She screamed in time with the women downstairs. This was real life. This frustration, imperfection, discomfort, unhappiness. This was what grownups knew. There was no such thing as magic, or happy endings, or mysterious kings who fell in love with special girls and granted them wonderful powers. She smiled bitterly and opened her mouth with the intention of cementing these thoughts in her brain once and for all. She spoke calmly, surely.

“I wish I was anywhere but here.” With that, Sarah Williams disappeared into thin air.

[kingofthegxblins]

The concern with which Sarah spoke about the Labyrinth warmed the cockles of Jareth’s mangy, unkempt heart. The novelty of hearing a woman speak so candidly about how she cared for the Labyrinth and its denizens was not easily lost on him.

He could feel Bristen’s gaze on him once again at Sarah’s profession, but ignored him. The man knew him better than any other, and it was as much a comfort as it was a nuisance. He could not afford to let his emotions run loose at such a vulnerable time as this.

“By all means, do not wait up, Hovington,” he said blithely, taking this opportunity to further bastardize the dwarf’s name. “I am sure you have pressing business to attend to. Perhaps some new drapes for your abode by the Bog.” He felt a thrill of amusement at the antagonism, but it was quickly dampened by the reminder of Sarah’s presence and her likely disapproval. “But then again,” he added soberly, “Should you wish to stay and wait for our return, I wouldn’t know the difference.”

Hoggle bristled, as Jareth knew he would, and the king shot the creature a cheeky wink.

He led Sarah a few steps away from the dwarf and centered himself, calling on his powers to transport them across the realm. He turned to Bristen, Sarah’s hand remaining in his. “You know the protocols until I return?”

Bristen gave a single, firm nod. “Danu grant you strength, my Liege.”

Jareth nodded in return, then gave his attention to Sarah. Another thrill ran down his spine as he locked eyes with her, relishing the proximity they shared. He released her momentarily to tuck her hand into the crook of his arm, drawing her nearer to him. “If you are ready, precious,” he murmured, his barely-there words more of a question than a statement. He drew his free hand away to summon a crystal, and without breaking eye contact, he threw the simmering orb up into the air, and they were gone.

xXx

His teacher had retired to the mountains some distance from the Goblin Kingdom well over two hundred years ago. Jareth hadn’t blamed him for this move, of course - the man was ancient, and had earned his retirement many times over by services rendered to the crown, not to mention his personal tutelage of Jareth.

Jareth had not been an easy student, by any means. His magic knew no bounds, and because of that, his arrogance exceeded it. He had been headstrong, impetuous, defiant and rash, and yet despite all of this, Nilrem had managed to mold Jareth into a sorcerer worthy of his own abilities, and adept enough to rule and protect a realm. Of course, it had taken many years for Jareth’s ungrateful self to realize the hard work that went into his education, but once he had become a man by Fae standards, he had been in Nilrem’s eternal debt.

But Nilrem was uninterested in the favors of kings. What he was interested in, however, was peace and quiet.

And, of course, apple brandy from the mortal village.

Jareth was interested in seeing what Sarah’s reaction would be to their little pit stop. While the existence of the safe haven for the adult wished-aways wasn’t exactly a secret, it wasn’t common knowledge, either. Jareth preferred to keep Virhaven as much a secret as was possible. The last thing the mortal denizens of the small hamlet needed was any other magical interference in their lives.

He did not visit very frequently. He had very few excuses to do so, one such being the excuse he used now to drop in on the humans. Each trip was bittersweet for the fae ruler, and a risk in and of itself. More than ever, he could not afford to spend time away from the Labyrinth. She was a deeply demanding mistress, and if it weren’t for the toll it would take on him, he would try and break the bond altogether, if only to be free.

When they set down at the gates just outside Virhaven, Jareth released Sarah. He brushed the magical debris from their travel off of his clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles that may have formed. “Now Sarah,” he began, “Some explanation may be in order. My old teacher, Nilrem, is a cantankerous fellow at the best of times, and will not thank us for interrupting his retirement. He lives in the mountains just beyond,” he said, gesturing to the range in the background, “So we will be stopping here to procure an offering that may make him more amenable to our questions.”

He took off towards the gates, continuing on with his explanation, confident to the point of arrogance that Sarah was hanging onto his every word, as well as keeping pace. “Mind you, he’s unlikely to be interested in anything these days. But,” he stopped short, turning to Sarah with a wicked gleam in his eye, “I consider myself to be rather convincing when I choose to be.” He gave her a smirk before continuing on.

“Your Majesty!” a voice rang out.

Jareth turned towards the hail, a genuine smile washing away the remnants of his devilish smirk. “Kingston!” He strode forward towards a dark-skinned man, raising a hand in greeting. Kingston quickly bowed his head in return, to which Jareth immediately tutted. “None of that, if you please. Sarah,” he called in dulcet tones, luring the girl to him, “I’d like you to meet this young man, the finest mortal chef whose fare I’ve ever had the pleasure of patronizing.”

Kingston shook his head modestly. “You flatter me unnecessarily, Your Majesty.”

“I do no such thing,” Jareth replied with a sniff. “If it serves your ego any, I’ll say that I’ve dined on very few mortal-made meals in my time, so the compliment is narrowly won.”

Kingston laughed good-naturedly. “Yes, that does even out my ego, thank you. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Sarah,” Kingston added shyly, bowing to her as well. “You grace us with your presence. Tales of your victory in the Labyrinth have traveled here, and we are all impressed.” A shadow crossed over Kingston’s face. Jareth felt something akin to discomfort rise in his chest.

“Yes, yes, Sarah’s victory over my riddle-ridden homestead is a fine thing, tra la la,” Jareth said impishly. “I am sure she can regale you with her brave feats some other time, but I am afraid we are on a mission. I trust that Gallagher's wares are in fine form these days?”

Kingston smiled brightly. “The finest, Your Majesty. And as always, with our compliments, you must take whatever you wish.”

Jareth gave a single nod. “Your offer is a kind one, but I will, as always, pay as any one would.” He tipped his head to the man. “A pleasure, as always, Kingston.” He hooked his two fingers towards Sarah. “Come, Precious, time is of the essence.”

[universesofcheska]

Labyrinth 2

    The rain pattered against the window in large splattering drops, drowning out the noise of the family gathering. Sarah Williams sat on the window seat in an uncomfortable position, trying not to forget her posture lest some aunt or grandmother reprimand her again. She wore a cream colored, long sleeved, fitted blouse that extenuated her figure in a way suitable for a college girl. She also wore black slacks and black, flat, mary-jane shoes. Her make up was light, but noticeable; a bit of eyeliner, mascara and red-tinted lip gloss, and she thought herself presentable.     Her gray-green eyes followed the swaying of the pine trees against the inky sky, their image contorted by the rivulets of water coming down the window. A brilliant flash of lightening broke her out of her reverie and she blinked a few times, coming back into the present. Glancing around the room anxiously, she saw almost her entire extended family mingling amongst themselves, some drink or another in hand. Her stepmother was busy clearing plates from the Easter table, just then catching the eye of the young woman.     “Oh Sarah, won’t you snap out of your newest day dream and come help with the dishes?” Irene asked impatiently. A question she had posed numerous times before.     “Yeah, of course. Sorry.” Sarah shook her head, sincerely frustrated with herself for not being more of a help that night. While the relationship between her and her stepmother had considerably softened over the last couple of years, she knew there was an impending string of complaints she would hear about her behavior that night.     Sarah had been withdrawn and unhappy the last few days, in a sensitive mood, and noticing the most depressing details; especially as she tried socializing with her relatives. Somehow, they never ceased to remind her of her own silliness or inadequacies, furthering how self conscious she really was. Other than that, she knew she could mostly blame the new stressors of college life, but there was something else bothering the girl entirely.     Lately she had been resenting the adult identity she was trying so hard to get comfortable with, finding herself disappointed with the realities of independent life. She was second-guessing herself in everything and feeling terribly lonely among her group of geeky friends and their handsy boyfriends. And to tack on to that, she had this dark, ugly butterfly flitting about her stomach, causing her to feel very high-strung; an omen of some future turmoil, she was sure, though she could not put her finger on what that could be.     And something about this night reminded her of the past. Another nerve-wracking day in history when a dangerous storm raged outside, when she was feeling similarly stressed and misunderstood just before finding her baby brother missing… No. She shoved the frequently-visited memory back with ease, having gotten so much practice with that already. It wasn’t real. That dream, that stupid play she had morphed into her own creation four years ago, was the last thing she needed to be thinking about right then.  That’s all it was, she had convinced herself, after all the pressure to grow up and be normal. A ridiculously intricate and vivid waking dream.  She always did have a wonderful imagination…     She rose and joined the other woman in cleaning up while the children of her cousins weaved between all the adults and furniture in the room, never not being in the way. She rolled her eyes as she reached across the table. For the past few years, Sarah had been trying valiantly to “grow up” and detach herself from her childish ways which garnered her so much ridicule from her peers and guardians alike. Especially when she had started implying that she had seen things, achieved things, been places that no one else had. It had been a difficult task to let those fierce beliefs of hers go, but she had done it; at least, mostly. Being a mature, normal woman truly was a goal of hers, and that goal demanded that she quit believing in things like the supernatural.     At the moment, though, she was almost jealous of her younger family members and their freedom to indulge in their imaginations- and their innocent nature. But she was nineteen now- basically an adult. And she was almost convinced that there was nothing she could possibly have in common with children or preteens. All the stories she used to read and write, all her comforting toys, all of her glorious costumes had either been given up or hidden away (except for the select few closest to her heart). Her room was now much emptier, decorated with tasteful furnishings and laden with school supplies. It made her feel like she was pretending even more than before. But if she wanted to be just like her other ordinary nineteen year old friends, she had to start acting like it, right?     The thunder following the lightening bolt shook the house, causing the children to scatter and squeal louder, chasing one another even faster. Hands full of tableware, Sarah blew her dark bangs from her eyes, shaking her head so the rest of the long strands would fall neatly behind her. She couldn’t bring herself to cut her hair, even now. The other girls in her freshman class at University all had stylish, edgy cuts, but she just couldn’t part with her natural, historical look. She had gotten it a little layered since it was ungodly thick and she didn’t want to look like a total outcast, but the pleas of her friends to get it highlighted always fell on deaf ears.     She pushed through the door into the kitchen, hoping no one would come out the other way, and found Toby sitting on the counter next to the sink, talking to their father.     “I told you I‘d win!”     “Yeah, yeah Toby, you won alright.“ Robert kindly responded, tousling his sons hair before picking up a stack of dishes to put away.     “I don’t know if it’s healthy for a five year old to be that good at video games.” Sarah interjected with her usual superior tone, placing her own pile of dishes next to the sink and starting to scrub them down.     “Sarah you should have seen it! I beat him in like 40 seconds, I just went Pow! Bam! Slam and then my special combos, and he was dead!” Toby’s eyes shone with excitement as he recounted the riveting experience. Nowadays, his expressions hardly ever failed in softening his big sister’s attitude. The corners of her mouth lifted a little bit as she “uhuh”-ed along to her kid brother’s story.     “Yeah, right. Go get me another washcloth.” She lifted her chin to indicate the drawer she meant and tried not to smile as Toby slid off the counter and immediately began helping her. They loved one another indescribably, and she was no where near resisting his demonic sweetness the way she was when she was fifteen. They dried the silverware together, bantering like siblings should. Then the doorbell rang.       Sarah knew who it was immediately. The storm might have been raging outside, but inside the house it had just been the calm before; her mother’s entrance brought the tempest inside. Robert stopped what he was doing and tensely made his way to the front door to greet her. The house went silent for a moment, aside from Merlin‘s barking; then the rest of the family began awkwardly greeting the estranged ex-Mrs. Williams. The situation was especially weird, as more than half of the people in the house were on Irene’s side of the family. Jeremy, her new husband, was with her of course. A bemused expression graced his face as his slightly drunk wife hugged everyone.     “See, Grandma Williams? I tooold you we’d make it tonight before it got too late. You doubted me but here we are. What’d we miss? Where’s Sarah?” The thunder boomed again. Sarah closed her eyes, now understanding her doom-and-gloom feeling from before. Toby looked up at her with concern.     Linda had always been Sarah’s favorite person, her role-model in all aspects of life. She had always wanted nothing more than to move in with her and be an actress, just like her and Jeremy. But Irene had been right, no matter how many times Sarah had fiercely denied it. Linda had chosen her career over being there for her daughter. And Sarah had finally come to understand that.     She wasn’t one of those bitter, divorced kids- well, she was a little, but perhaps her maturity had shone through most in this aspect of her life. She understood that her mother had made the best choice for herself. That she wasn’t meant to be a stay-at-home mom, that she had big dreams and a big… man to chase. A life outside her family. And as a result, Sarah had simply grown closer to her father. Irene would never be any sort of replacement, of course, but Linda wasn’t that reliable of a mother to begin with, so there was no tension there.     Now that Sarah was older, Linda had the knack for showing up at the house randomly to take Sarah out shopping or to other girly activities, with the intention of sprucing her up. ‘Modernizing’ her, as she called it. This was uncomfortable enough for Sarah, but Linda’s uninvited presence was what usually set Irene off, and more often than not the two women got very catty with one another. Sarah had hoped this particular family function could go smoothly, without that volatile situation since she had already been feeling awful, but Linda and Jeremy had been invited. And here they were. Two hours late, loud, and a little under the influence. Maybe they would get tired soon and leave.     “Is that Linda?“ Came Toby’s little voice. Sarah looked down at Toby and nodded, taking his hand and silently walking toward the door.  Pasting a strained smile on her face, she pushed through and took in the sight of her aunt pouring her mother a glass of wine.     “Hi mom! I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.” Sarah began. Linda enthusiastically replied just like she had to her ex-mother-in-law, defending her past actions as usual. The crowd quietly went back to socializing. Mother and daughter sat down together, and Toby took a seat on Sarah’s lap. The two caught up for a few minutes before Irene saw fit to call Toby over to her, looking none to happy about the situation. The boy reluctantly did as he was told. Sarah pushed her long tresses behind her ears and continued talking, but Irene’s action had caught Linda’s attention immediately. It was only seconds before the opening comments began.     “What’s wrong, Irene? I thought you were happy that the kids were finally bonding.” Came Linda’s argumentative tone.     “Linda. I’m not starting with you tonight.”     “YOU’RE not starting with ME? As though I’ve said anything deliberately rude? I was just saying, Toby looked perfectly happy with Sarah just now.”     Irene scoffed. Another flash of lightening lit up the yard, followed by the noise.     “Mommy?” Came Toby’s unsure voice. As a child, he was especially sensitive to the unease of everyone in the room as the women’s voices began to grow hostile. Robert and Jeremy were already making their way over to the women.     “It’s alright sweetie,” Irene began with an exaggeratedly coddling tone. “Linda’s just in that awful mood she always gets in when she’s been drinking.”     “Oh my Gooodddd…” Sarah rubbed her temples.     “I know you did not just accuse me of being a drunk. Listen, Irene, are you TRYING to ruin Easter for our children?” Linda retorted.     “Ladies…” Robert interjected. The room was silent again as all the cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents waited for the imminent, traditional explosion.     “No, Robert, no. Everyone’s wondering the same thing. Let your wife answer for her bitchiness.” Linda pointed at Irene before bringing her wine glass to her lips. Irene just stared, mouth agape before suddenly moving toward the other woman as though she was about to strike her. Then, she remembered Toby next to her and took a step back, her expression all rage.     “I am not dealing with this anymore. Linda, this is the last time you come to my house and disrespect me like that.” Irene said as calmly as she could manage.     “Oh, so now its YOUR house?” Linda replied.     Sarah slowly rose out of her chair, her cheeks turning red, her eyes filling with hot tears. Robert looked sympathetically at his daughter, searching for the right words to stop the fight before it got any worse. Unfortunately it was far too late.     An explosion of sentences laced with profanities spilled from Linda’s lips, in harmony with the thunder from outside. Irene began yelling back and Toby covered his ears and began to cry. The husbands did their best to diffuse the situation, as did the rest of the family present. Some jumped into the conversation to defend either woman, others tried to follow Sarah up the stairs only to be politely asked to please NOT. And so another, even more public war broke out in the Williams household.     It was the bane of Sarah’s existence. Why, oh why couldn’t they just act like a normal loving family for once? They had always wanted Sarah to assimilate instead of hide inside her fantasies, so why couldn’t they give her some kind of incentive? The farther away she got from the shouting the faster Sarah went, running up the stairs, breathing hard. It was all so embarrassing and awful. She felt like a kid, like a failure, with a dysfunctional, shameful family. This was supposed to be spring break, a time for fun and relaxing, a time to indulge in more grown up pleasures. Intellectual conversation, reading, cooking, concert-going, dancing. And this is what she had to deal with instead.     She groaned as she heard Toby start to wail from downstairs, accompanied by a “See what you’ve done? Again?!” from Irene. It was Sarah’s habit now to calm him down and solve his problems, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about his confusion and discomfort at that moment.     The thunder crashed outside again loudly and a new torrent of rain splashed against the windows of the upper floor. Lightening lit up the white-carpeted rooms with blue flashes, casting crazy shadows on the walls as Sarah made her way down the hall to her room. She expertly ignored the tricks her mind began to play on her using the dark forms dancing around the furniture.     “This is insanity. Always the same thing, always this crap! And I’m stuck in the middle of it! …It‘s not fair!” She exclaimed, running a hand through her hair and trying not to cry. She hadn’t said those words or felt this way in so long, having been told just how immature it sounded by a multitude of influential people. But right now she didn’t care how she sounded or how she looked. She’d rather be anywhere besides that cruel and unusual battlefield.     Another thunder clap shook the house and she gave another frustrated shout, hitting the wall with her fist as she passed Toby’s door. Her warpath was abruptly halted when she saw that the balcony doors in her brother’s room were wide open, the curtains flying about and the rain freely pouring onto the furniture. Her first instinct was irritation and she quickly wiped her eyes and marched in, reaching out for the doors and shutting them angrily, thoughtlessly. Then, she paused, being hit with a sort of dejavu. She glanced at her hand clutching the window lock, then past the glass at the torrential rain outside. Why was this so familiar?     Oh. That’s right. The open balcony doors, the violent storm… This was where it had begun, where, four years ago, the frightening but beautiful Goblin King came to pay her a visit, where he stole her brother and issued her an impossible challenge. It was just past these doors that she set out on her big adventure in the Labyrinth.

Sarah let go of the lock slowly and sighed, shaking her head, her expression venomous. Quit thinking of that crap  and don’t be ridiculous, she thought. I dreamed that entire thing. None of them- none of it was real. Just a damn play. It always was.     She turned from the window, only to be hit with another wall of angry sound coming from downstairs. She sighed exasperatedly again, her face cinching with frustration; at her family, at her own naivety, at Toby’s crying. Another roll of thunder had Sarah clutching her head, breathing deeply again, trying her very mature method of getting a grip.      Then, the balcony doors burst open once more, and she was hit with cold rain and harsh wind. She screamed in time with the women downstairs. This was real life. This frustration, imperfection, discomfort, unhappiness. This was what grownups knew. There was no such thing as magic, or happy endings, or mysterious kings who fell in love with special girls and granted them wonderful powers. She smiled bitterly and opened her mouth with the intention of cementing these thoughts in her brain once and for all. She spoke calmly, surely.

“I wish I was anywhere but here.” With that, Sarah Williams disappeared into thin air.

[kingofthegxblins]

Everytime she entered a room, it felt like the first time he was laying eyes on her. It was strange to think, but ever since her return, it felt as though a piece of him he hadn’t realized had been missing all along had locked back into place. Whether it was the constant set of challenges her presence presented, or something else entirely, he couldn’t be sure. Whatever the feeling was, he acknowledged and repressed the effect she had on him, having zero need or desire to examine it too closely.

He tried to appear uninterested at the nauseating wholesome display before him, and rather than reveal he was listening to every syllable, removed a piece of imaginary lint from his leather pants. He knew how much these two meant to each other, and while the dwarf would forever plague him with feelings of annoyance and misplaced jealousy, he let the moment play out without his interference. Sarah deserved that much from him.

I never meant to stop seeing you all. School and work got me so busy, and the people I met, they wouldn’t understand-! They said I was a crazy…made me go to doctors. 

His lips quirked with the resistance he made from frowning at that profession. He didn’t know what life was like for Sarah back in the mortal realm. Certainly, he had imagined it a few times, but hadn’t given her circumstances much thought. A part of him hadn’t wanted to know, hadn’t wanted to torture himself with watching Sarah go on and forget all about him them. Those who returned from the Underground didn’t usually flaunt their escapades, as it was either too traumatic or too incomprehensible for the runner to mention again, which in turn worked out well for those who dwelled Underground in keeping their existence a secret. Recounting such an experience would no doubt lend itself to claiming that a person’s sanity had fled. The idea of her suffering in the face of that did not sit well.

Then I met Bobby…”

And just like that, Jareth’s momentary pity fled.

His head snapped up at the unfamiliar name. And just who was this ‘Bobby’? He narrowed his eyes in her direction, glaring at the pair with growing feelings of ire as Sarah and the cowardly dwarf continued their exchange before him. He began to drum his fingers on his thigh, waiting impatiently for the exchange to wrap up.

His lips thinned at Sarah’s confession that she couldn’t reach them. That she tried, day in and day out, to communicate with the denizens of the Labyrinth to no avail. Did she truly blame him for it? Think him so reprehensible that he would deny her and his subjects alike the simple pleasure of communicating? A dark cloud formed over him. She surely did. Just as surely as she excluded him in counting those she missed.

Jareth sat up a little straighter when she mentioned breaking the mirror. Bristen shot him an alarmed glance, which he simply met with a dour expression, his lips thin. He minutely shook his head, trying not to draw Sarah’s attention to notice how her words had drawn concern from the fae occupants present in the room. While Jareth did not think a broken mirror alone could have transported Sarah here, it could very well have set things in motion. Or, at the very least, been an omen of things to come.

When Hoggle finally shut his gob and the two at long last acknowledged his presence, he raised a delicate eyebrow. “Of course, by all means, Hogbrain, cast your disparagement upon me.” He rolled his eyebrows. When the occupants of the room continued to look at him searchingly, he sighed, acting entirely put upon. 

“Yes, it does appear that there may be some overlap between the Labyrinth’s antics and Sarah’s arrival here.” He could feel the Labyrinth bristle in the back of his mind at the word ‘antics’, but he continued on, unhindered. “However, I have no reason to believe Sarah has anything to do with any of it.” 

At Bristen’s forceful cough, Jareth shot the man an accusing glare. Bristen merely looked askance at him, his expression entirely too innocent to be believed. Jareth’s mismatched gaze narrowed on the ambassador. “Do you have something to add, old friend?”

Bristen cleared his throat. “Merely to suggest that perhaps it is time to speak to Nilrem about these matters?”

He waved off the suggestion. “What, and bring the old kook out of his retirement? Don’t be ridiculous.” 

He turned his gaze back to Sarah who was, as ever, staring up at him defyingly. He felt a small smirk itch to grace his lips, but unwittingly, it stopped. Bristen’s words started to penetrate just the tiniest bit deeper, and an idea began to take form on his mind.

“However,” he said, considering, “The old codger has been undisturbed for far too long.” The smirk finally fell into place. He gracefully rose from his throne and descended towards the two figures in the stone pit, ignoring Hoggle entirely. “I do wonder, Sarah,” he murmured, his voice silken, “Were I to embark on such a quest, if you would join me?”

He felt rather than saw Hoggle draw up to a fuller height, no doubt suspicious of just what machinations were at work in Jareth’s mind. He continued to ignore the dwarf, his attention wholly on the mortal girl. “It would mean leaving the Labyrinth temporarily,” he warned, “But surely you are unafraid of a little inter-realm travel? After all, you are practically a veteran.” His eyes held a twinkle of challenge, his mouth set just so to bait her. He was entirely serious, but enjoyed goading her, making her feel as though she would be going on the defensive if she were to refuse. 

He had no doubt Bristen disapproved of him leaving the Labyrinth at a time like this, but if anyone had greater insight into the Labyrinth, it would be his old teacher. And if he could remove Sarah from the Labyrinth for a short while, and distance her from some of the unpleasant memories it dredged up, it would be the proverbial icing on the cake.

He gentled his expression. “What do you say, precious?” He held out a leather-clad hand to her. “Care to go on yet another adventure?“

[universesofcheska]

Labyrinth 2

[kingofthegxblins]

The rest of the morning’s meal with Niamh, suffice it to say, had not gone well. Thankfully, (mercifully) it hadn’t lasted much longer after her cards were placed on the table. 

Despite his very best attempt to put on a show of disinterest, her words had pierced through his shields. She had touched upon things he had hoped no one could infer, and like any monarch worth their ilk, he was troubled by her insight. He could act alongside anyone Above who had trod the boards, and up until now, the only person he thought he couldn’t lie to was Bristen.

Apparently, pining made one soft. 

The thought filled him with inexorable anger. It was not supposed to be this way! He was several centuries old, and Sarah was...what? Barely two decades? 

Truth be told, it was embarrassing, and Jareth hated to be embarrassed. It was why the whole humiliation involving the goblin horde during her siege on his castle had been so painful. He had a reputation to uphold, bogs-damnit! Why did everyone and everything strive to bring him ignominy!?

He had paused on his way back to the throne room to muse over these things, and had landed in such a position of angst (leaning away from the corridor with his elbow perched on the wall, head in his hand), when he was discovered.

By a very small goblin, no less.

He lifted his head, aware of the presence of another, and looked around. “Hello?” he called out, dolefully. He heard a small noise from below, and looked down his nose. Having discovered the goblin, he rolled his eyes. “What?” he bluntly asked.

The goblin shifted its weight back and forth from foot to foot, staring up at the king with wide eyes.

Jareth sighed again, unlocked his knees, and crouched near the goblin. He picked the small creature up, and placed it in the crook of his elbow. “Well? What is it?”

The goblin started to smile, very slowly, and without guile. Jareth knew this goblin, of course, but was much more inclined to act put-upon and annoyed. Still, almost despite himself, and certainly despite the woman he had just seen, he patted the little goblin on the head. He felt his bad temper ease somewhat.

“Well, you might as well make yourself useful.” He summoned a crystal. It expanded to the size of large dinner plate, and placed the goblin snugly inside. “My mood is already bad, might as well ruin another’s. Come, runt.” 

Runt, who did indeed have a name, but it was conveniently forgotten for the time being, began to run like a hamster in a wheel in the air after Jareth.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Despite his lack of surprise at the reality of the girl’s beauty, he was further unsurprised by her cleverness. It was easy to understand why Jareth’s world had been so upset by this mortal. 

Bristen watched, in real time, as Sarah’s mind worked, her discerning and sharp green eyes scanning this plane as she worked her answer. It was a little like playing chess. There were several layers of calculation going on at once, and to watch her puzzle it all out was fascinating.

“I have dreamed of coming back the moment I left. I obsessed for so long, knowing it was real but not being able to prove it.”

He nodded along, encouraging her wordlessly to continue.

“Something inside me isn’t… The same. I feel like I need to figure out what it is- need somebody to show what to do with it, or I feel like… like I’ll explode.”

Bristen took a sip of his own drink, frowning. What Sarah was describing sounded much like the sorts of situations many fae found themselves in, be it after having spent too much time in the mortal world, or having not been properly educated to understand their fae physiology. Bristen had been called, on more than one occasion, to the household of a fae child who had either been abandoned or neglected and as a result, had lost control of themselves. Very messy and very unnecessary, such cases often sent fae children to the brink of madness. The work to pull them back and discipline them properly was grueling. 

Despite the degree to which children were coveted in the Underground, there remained fae parents utterly undeserving of their precious miracles. Bristen enjoyed doling out punishments for these parents perhaps a bit too much.

Sarah’s next words gave Bristen a chill. 

“It’s more beautiful than I ever imagined. But it’s not the same either, is it? There’s something wrong with it, too.” 

Oh, but she was shrewd. No wool pulled over her eyes, certainly not. 

Curious that she could tell. Very curious indeed.

Of course, Jareth would prefer that Bristen decry any such claims that the Labyrinth was in anything less than perfect condition, but Bristen found lying in this case to be supremely unproductive. 

Well, better to beg forgiveness…

Bristen took her hand gently across the table, meeting her gaze. “You see with knowing eyes, Sarah.” He squeezed her hand gently before releasing it back to her. He sighed.

“You are correct. There is something the matter. And if His Majesty would be angered by my telling you so, well…” He clenched his fist quickly, then relaxed it. “He can take it up with me. But before you turn your mind to any nefarious dealings, know this: we are utterly in the dark as to what this is. We have only recently started to ask questions, and I’m not yet sure they’re even the right ones. I do believe Jareth was about to undertake some stronger reconnaissance before your arrival, and well...ah…” He coughed a little in embarrassment. “That did distract us a bit, you might say.” 

“Could it have anything to do with my solving it?”

Certainly a possibility, and further, one which the king had most likely denied consideration of, blast his pride. Bristen would have to store that theory away until he could turn it over for himself. 

“Truly, I do not know, Sarah. At this point, anything is possible. But if you would permit me to mention your concerns to him, I think I might be able to get through. If you have any faith in me, please trust me when I say that despite your history, I know for a fact that Jareth means you no harm...now,” he added, somewhat cheekily. 

Bristen sobered, clasping his hands before him. “I am in your service, Lady Sarah. I will do whatever I can to ease your suffering here and now. As I am a servant of Jareth’s, I am a servant of the Labyrinth. And I will not abide to see either it or its Champion suffer.”

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Thankful for perhaps the first time that he had only relegated the dwarf to the Bog for a month after Sarah’s sojourn, Jareth turned to survey the Labyrinth. From this post, he could see the whole of his kingdom. As usual, it filled him with an odd combination of both pride and despondency. The Labyrinth was his burden, and his alone. It was difficult enough to succumb to the loneliness of everyday rule without adding the additional stress of saving it and the life of every creature within. 

Perhaps he could send the dwarf back with Sarah when she left. A fitting send-off. Return to the land of your greatest nightmare, take back an ugly creature as a prize.

Jareth snorted to himself. Generous, indeed.

Losing patience with waiting, Jareth began to tap his boot. “Where are you?” he called. “Show yourself now. I’m very busy.”

He heard a groan from behind him, and turned. Ah, there he is, he thought joylessly. The little miscreant hobbled up to him, looking grim.

“‘Ello, Yer Majesty.”

“So good of you not to make me wait, Hubble,” Jareth groused. “What took you so long?”

“Was further around the wall, is all.” Hoggle peered up at him suspiciously, crossing his arms. “Just what do you want?” 

Jareth rolled his eyes. “Polite as ever, I see.” He popped the bubble that Runt was spinning in, watching with delight as he flailed to the ground. Hoggle watched this, looking less than impressed.

“I have something of a surprise for you, my fine fellow.” 

Hoggle audibly gulped. “Not the Bog again?”

Jareth laughed. “Oh ho, no. Not this time. Although from your attitude, one might suspect you did not have a long enough tenure in our sonorous swampland?”

“I...ah….”

Jareth waved him off. “Nevermind. No, my surprise is in the Castle. I rather think you’ll like it. Will you come?” 

Hoggle wrung his hands. “Do I haves a choice?” 

Jareth shook his head, his smile a little too manic.

Hoggle sighed. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” 

“Marvelous.” Jareth snapped, and the three of them were back in the throne room. Jareth turned to Runt, and addressed him. “Have Bristen bring our friend here, quick as you like.” 

Jareth watched Runt take off, his smile settling into something more neutral. He ascended to his throne, content to watch the scene play out without being in the center of it all. He waved at Hoggle once again. “Make yourself calm, won’t you? They’ll be just a minute.” 

Please, he thought idly, Let this be a start.

[universesofcheska]

Labyrinth 2

[kingofthegxblins]

Perhaps it should have been more obvious to Jareth these would be the consequences of his behavior. Were he a less impulsive creature, like Bristen (like his mother so wanted him to be), he would have had the foresight to know that this would be the outcome.

Alas, he was surely made to suffer.

The morning of his breakfast with Niamh dawned dreary and with a pounding coaxing out from behind Jareth’s perpetually dilated eye. After his little flirtation with the blonde fae to draw Sarah’s ire, he had imbued a touch more alcohol than was necessary to wash the taste of Niamh’s poisonous skin from his mouth. Not even the pleasant interlude with Sarah at the end of the night had washed away the icky feeling from him.

Now why would that be? an insidious voice asked from the murky depths of his psyche.

Quiet, you, he responded vehemently.

No, really, that persistent voice answered. Don’t deny it. You know what you’re about, chap. You relish any opportunity to drive Sarah mad. You truly are a villain.

Jareth grimaced. He had played that role for Sarah - had even enjoyed it, during its run - but he didn’t really consider himself a villain. He had villainous intentions, to be sure, but he didn’t think he was all bad.

Then what is it that you’re doing, playing with her like this? You’ve said it before. She’s no match for you. At least, not with magic.

Not yet, Jareth answered himself.

The voice nodded inside his head. Not yet, it said in agreement.

His conscience (for that’s what it was, damn the irksome bastard) had brought up an interesting and damning point. While the headache wasn’t direct payback for messing with Sarah’s feelings, it still brought to light the fact that that was exactly what he was doing.

This thing he was doing, it had a name. An ugly one, too.

Manipulation.

It was a defense mechanism. His greatest one, in fact, and Jareth had cultivated many over the years. Especially in regards to the woman currently sitting across from him at the breakfast table.

Despite the grey sky outside the castle walls, the solarium was a beautiful sight to behold. It was one of Jareth’s favorite rooms in the castle because, like the others he favored, goblins were forbidden to step foot inside.

The room was octagonal, with stained glass windows all around, casting rainbows across the room. Pearlescent vines hung from the forest canopy above their heads, suspended by several thin golden trees that were stationed through the room. The vines dangled all around them, floating gently on an imaginary breeze.

Orbs floated amongst the flora as well, much like the ones Jareth favored. Anyone could summon them at will, and they would rest daintily on your finger like sugar spun candy. The floor was a dark green marble, a contrast to the play of light around them, but it contrasted in a way that aesthetically pleased. It shone marvelously, acting more like a mirror than a light absorbing surface. The furniture was carved into the still-growing trees, cradling the occupants into the bosom of their wooden bodies. Jareth sat in one such alcove of the trees, a seat that was reminiscent of his throne. The tree’s roots curled around to make a bench that Niamh sat upon, and as a result created an intimidate half-moon space. Normally, Jareth would see the spot as a decadent little arena for a tryst, but that morning, it made him feel claustrophobic.

He imagined, briefly, what it would be like to summon Sarah into this place. He would draw her into the carved-out hollow of the tree, and tuck her snugly beside him. He would summon the vines to hang low, to shield them from prying eyes (but there would be none). He’d whisper sweet nothings in her eye, drawing his finger down her downy cheek, leaning into her warmth and sweet smell…

He shook himself from his reverie before Niamh noticed.

Of course, she took note of nothing save her own concerns. She was perusing the food in front of them, frowning slightly at the fare before her. Jareth rolled his eyes. She was picky in everything, even the most delectable things offered to her. It was no wonder they two had not stood the test of time.

“Nothing to your liking, lady?”

She looked up quickly, plastering the most ingenuine smile on her pink lips he had ever seen. “I like everything I see, my lord,” she practically purred.

Jareth stopped himself from rolling his eyes a second time.

“How grateful I am for that,” he answered, managing to keep his tone both polite and dismissive.

Niamh, for her part, did not seem to give up so easily. “I should hope so,” she said in dulcet tones, sliding forward slightly to lay her hand on Jareth’s knee, rubbing small circles into it. “And I should hope, too, that you like what you see.” She smirked, a gesture he had taught her once. There was a time when such a look would have had him on his knees. Now, however, it only exasperated him.

“Enough, Niamh,” he said, his patience worn thin. “I am not a toy.” He removed her hand from his knee. “Let’s get to the bottom of all this, shall we? Why is it that you’re really here?”

Niamh pouted, slouching back in her seat while still maintaining a regal posture. “Jareth, you wound me.” She shook her head. “Can’t you believe that I missed you?”

“No,” was his swift reply.

She frowned, the teasing gone from her face. “Oh really?” She stood immediately, pacing away from him with a graceful billowing of her skirt. “You would call me a liar?”

Jareth was silent. He knew his own penchant for cruelty, but he himself was not a liar.

She read his mind. “I know how your mind operates, Jareth.” She smiled sarcastically. “Or have you forgotten that once upon a time we shared more than just a bed?”

“Oh, I remember,” Jareth answered, his own expression growing dark. “Which I why I am calling your bluff, Niamh.” He crossed his legs, leaning back carelessly. “ You had me wrapped around your little finger, and for your hand, I would have given everything I had in exchange. But you were not interested,” he added, bitterly.

Something fleeting crossed Niamh’s face before being schooled back into ire. “You weren’t exactly offering to compromise on anything,” she stated petulantly.

He laughed. “I am inclined to disagree. Compromise is not a part of your vocabulary, Niamh. It never was. For my part, I would have made any concession you asked for. A cave of jewels? I would have gladly bestowed it. A tower completely free of goblins? I would not have hesitated. But no,” he said somberly, shaking his head. “You wanted no part of any of this.” He drew a circle in the air with his pointer finger. “Everything here revolts you, disgusts you. You wanted me to change everything about myself for you.”

She bared her teeth, leering at him. “Not everything,” she said suggestively.

Jareth did roll his eyes here. “Sex does not a relationship make.”

She scoffed. “Since when?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I see more and more, now. You’ve changed, Jareth. In more ways than you know.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “That girl has done a number on you.”

Jareth looked down, pulling at his gloves and examining them in boredom. “Spare me this tedium, Niamh.”

Niamh tilted her head. She walked towards Jareth slowly, eying him up and down. She kneeled before him, capturing his gaze.

“She’s made you something else, Jareth. Tempered you, to be sure. Borne you down into the earth like a piece of coal. And now, you’re shining gold.” She inclined her head. “I will not let her enjoy you, not when you are on the brink of reaching your fullest potential for greatness.” She tilted her head. “Would you rather not have a woman of elegance and grace on your arm as you lead your subjects into a new dawn?”

Jareth looked back at her, almost with an air of sullenness.

Her eyes gazed back at him piercingly. “She may have been the one to awaken this new side of you, Jareth, but I am the only one who can truly meet your needs.” She shook her head, lowered her voice. “She’s a child. And you will remain a child, too, if you succumb to her.” She trailed a finger down his cheek. “Give me another chance to win your love,” she said quietly. “I won’t disappoint you again.”

“And why’s that?” he said, his voice husky despite himself.

She sat back on her heels. “Because I have known the pain of losing you, Jareth. But more than that,” she added, “Because I am willing to do whatever it takes to win you. And she never will.”

~`~`~`~`~`~~`~`~`~`~`~~`~`~`~`~`~

With the knowledge of what was to take place that morning on his mind, Bristen hadn’t been able to sleep. He was up most of the night, doing what he generally did best: worry. Jareth had mocked him for it more times than he could count over the years, but he was no longer phased, despite the humiliating nicknames he had gained.

(“You worry at me worse than a teething babe, Straum.”)

(“Are you my wet nurse, or my advisor?”)

He now considered it to be his greatest asset. Jareth tended to act rather rashly when a situation involved women. Bristen, having a lesser stake, was able to keep a level head and advise him. Usually, that he was being moronic.

(He wished dearly that he had been around when Jareth made the Cleaners call. That he would have very quickly nixed.)

Unfortunately for him, advising Jareth in these matters was a full time gig. He considered them all lucky Jareth only lost his cool in romantic dealings. As well as matters involving the goblins, but they always bounced back. Bristen gave them less of his attention.

He had personally roused Jareth from sleep, thinking it was a good idea to get the Fae into a good state of mind for meeting Niamh. He knew better than anyone what had occurred in the aftermath of their failed romance years prior. In a word, it hadn’t been pretty. That fiasco, Bristen had long ago rationalized, was partially responsible for the way in which Jareth had interacted with Sarah. Jareth had been hurt immeasurably, and by a woman that wasn’t half-deserving of him. It was only too understandable that Jareth would push away a woman that was equal to him.

A woman with the fullest potential to destroy him.

Once he got Jareth up and off to breakfast, he set out to wait for Sarah. He waited down the hallway from her room, leaning against a wall and watching for her door to open. He hoped that perhaps he would set her at ease by being close at hand without being stationed directly outside her door. When she emerged, he straightened to his fullest height, his face alighting with a polite, gentle smile.

“Good morning, Sarah,” Bristen greeted, keeping his position as she approached. He reached out gently and grasped her hand, bowing over it in a courtly manner. When he straightened once more, he started. The aura around her was...well, for lack of a better word, corrupted. Whereas before Sarah had been cloaked in the energy befitting a human who had entered the Labyrinth before, she now sported a sheen of magic that had not been there previously. Was it due to her interaction with Jareth last night? What had happened?

He shook himself from his reverie, stowing the information away for the moment. “Shall we?” He held out his arm to her, leading her in the direction of their meal.

The plan was to break his fast with Sarah in the furthest location from where Jareth and Niamh were dining. It would not do to run into them so early in the day, especially when both men had goals to accomplish. Bristen therefore chose one of the towers. It sported a beautiful little balcony, large enough for two people to dine comfortably. The balcony afforded one of the best views of the Labyrinth, unimpeded as far as the eye could see. A table had already been set up with various things, all kept warm, or chilled, by magic. Bristen held out Sarah’s seat and tucked her into the table before seating himself.

“That was quite the eventful night last night, don’t you think?” he asked, pulling his chair into the table. He let loose a chuckle, almost to himself. “While it’s never a dull moment in the Goblin Kingdom, last night was certainly one of the more interesting evenings we’ve had in a while.”

He reached for the coffee first, sighing contentedly at the carafe releasing clouds of steam. “Coffee, Sarah? How do you take it?”

He poured Sarah her preferred beverage before continuing to reach for things on the table. There were bilinis, accompanied by soft cheeses and preserves, deviled and poached eggs, hearty, rustic bread with butter, warm and straight from the market, and an assortment of exotic fruits and salads in bright colors. Bristen took a little of each.

“I hope it’s not rude to say, Sarah, but I happened to notice you were hesitant to eat last night.” He smiled softly. “I promise you, this is no realm of no return. The food here is safe. Well,” he grimaced, remembering the ‘incident’ with the Cook, “Mostly safe.” The apples of his cheeks reddened.

He asked her a few questions about herself, mostly her life back in the human realm, and the sorts of things she enjoyed doing there. He had never been to the human realm himself, he told her, and found it most curious. “Is it true,” he asked, “That you have an instrument of playing music that plays for you, without having to blow into it or pull strings?”

When their bellies were reaching capacity and the drinks were refreshed, Bristen leaned back, eying Sarah with interest. He began cautiously. “Sarah, I feel as though I should warn you.” He noticed the flash of panic in her eyes, and held up a hand apologetically. “Not about Jareth, nor your stay here. I know it might not mean much, but on my word, neither Jareth nor myself mean you any harm. The opposite, in fact. Truly.” He smiled, gleaning her face to see if she believed him. He sincerely hoped she did.

His first loyalty was to Jareth, but he liked Sarah. It was near-treason to admit it out loud (absurdly enough), but ever since her run, he had hoped that she might one day become their Queen. And for that, he had some small loyalty to her, too.

Which was why he continued on.

He looked down to the table pointedly, raising the mug to his lips, blowing on the hot liquid within. “I know you are meddling with magic.”

He waited a moment, allowed her to react, and took a long sip. He then raised his eyes to her face.

“I heard your conversation with Jareth last night. I know you long for magic. It is understandable. It is also understandable that you may feel that Jareth is not to be trusted, and that you might wish to seek information from another source. I would strongly advise against doing so.” His tone went from formal to something more resembling pleading. “You are intelligent, Sarah, and you have a knowledge of the Labyrinth that other humans do not have. But there are things in the Underground that would prey upon you, and make use of your ignorance. Which is why I would  beseech you to tell me if there is anything or anyone that has led you here, or is influencing you here in the castle.”

He laid a hand over his heart, his face devoid of artifice. “I wish to keep you safe, but I cannot do that if you are keeping things from us. Truly, no one will be mad, or punish you, Sarah. But I must know the reason there is magical residue on your face and hands.”

[universesofcheska]

Labyrinth 2

[kingofthegxblins]

He had noticed Sarah contemplating her food, even if she thought he hadn’t, and was torn between exasperation and admiration. The girl was crafty, and no fool. Clever girl, he thought affectionately, allowing himself the small lapse in evil standards to think well of her.

Still, he decided to take pity on her, and lowered his eyes to the food, and back to hers again. He lifted an eyebrow, a challenge. What? Afraid to eat my food, precious thing? I’ll wager you won’t do it. There, that would prove if her courage outran her caution.

Jareth could feel her observing him, and it pleased, as well as perplexed, him. Just what did she see? What was she looking for? He hoped he remained a mystery, and that she had not yet discovered his secret. He would allow her in, but slowly, and at his own discretion. He hated to be known, but perhaps being known by Sarah wouldn’t be such a piteous thing.

He was charmed to hear her speak so warmly of his kingdom. It was...unexpected, to say the least. Most women found the place to be a dump. Niamh hated it, he knew, and for better or for worse, it had played a large role in separating them. He would never admit it in a thousand years, but it had wounded him, and he had never forgiven her for it. He took an ironic pride in his kingdom, and even while he wished to escape it, he knew he belonged there, and nowhere else.

Despite himself, he tried not to straighten to attention when Sarah admitted that she found the Labyrinth changed. His interest was wholly piqued of course, but he would give himself away if he looked too attentive. His uninterested, quasi-disdainful expression stayed in place, but his racing heart would have given him away if anyone could hear.

“Of course, the last time I suppose most everything was designed to get in my way so I couldn’t save my brother.” He smirked. She would get little sympathy from this crowd. Even from Bristen who, as honorable as he was, was still Fae. Not to mention, he understood Jareth’s responsibility better than anyone.

Her question stopped him short, made him impossibly still. The topic was a taboo one to discuss in mixed company, and thus left the room in awkward, tense silence. Bristen, of course, had some idea, but Niamh did not, and yet she seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere all the same. Jareth took a sip of his wine before answering, his voice impolite and hollow. “I couldn’t say,” Jareth said flippantly. “I rarely dabble amongst the rabble.” He knew he was being an ass, and it was only confirmed by Bristen narrowing his eyes in Jareth’s direction. He ignored him. He didn’t do anything without purpose.

The dinner didn’t quite recover from that tension, but Bristen did everything in his power to repair the room. Niamh seemed to delight in Jareth’s caprice, but he divulged her no further than that.

They had relocated to Jareth’s library after dinner, one of the more comfortable rooms in the castle, what with the wooden paneling on the walls and the large fireplace, an ironic decoration considering the many hundreds of books in the room. He had switched over to cognac, the rim cool between his fingers in contrast with the warming body in the palm of his hand. He was staring into the flames, forever keeping Sarah’s form in the corner of his eye. It was unconscious at this point; whenever Sarah was nearby, his eyes couldn’t help but obsessively follow her, like moth would a flame.

To say that he had gotten over the change in conversation during dinner would be a falsehood. He had been content to ignore the darker workings of his Labyrinth in favor of focusing on Sarah. But he knew such diversions would only further damn his kingdom. He had precious little time to waste on frivolities, even if they came wrapped in beautiful, enticing packages.

Almost unconsciously, crystal balls appeared above his head, turning over themselves as if an invisible hand were manipulating them. He continued to stare into the fire, but the crystals turned, as if reflecting the working of his restless mind.

At Sarah’s hesitant voice, Jareth shook himself from his reverie. He glanced over at her, one eyebrow cocked. He shook his head a little to further ward away the thoughts plaguing his mind, and took a sip of his drink.

“Yes, and most vigorously,” he replied, quite serious. He approached her, glancing at the book that seemed to capture her attention. He ran a leather-bound finger down its spine. “All Fae are born with some degree of magic,” he mused conversationally, pulling the tome from its place on the shelf. “Some more than others. Myself, for example.” He flipped open the book and looked through its contents. “Being Of The Blood, I am imbued with a higher degree of magic than, say, a Fae without any royal blood.” Bristen snorted somewhere off to the side, but he ignored him. “With this power comes a fair degree of obligation. I am bound to it, as it is bound to me. It is a gift, a considerable one, but it is not without price and consequences.”

At her request, he finally looked up at her. He considered her slowly, tilting his head to the side. His mouth quirked, but it was not cruelly.

He slammed the book in his hand shut. “No,” he said shortly. He watched her expression transform to something like outrage before he clarified. “It is not so simple as taking a few lessons, precious. There is a sacrifice involved.” He tilted his head the other way. “It is a very personal and intimate and active choice. You cannot simply learn a levitation spell and call it a day. You would be opening a door.” He gestured with his hand, and the glass was replaced by the crystals floating overhead. He turned his hand again, and the crystals sat one on top of the other. They turned from darkest black to white, all in succession. It was an eerie, foreboding sight. “The magic becomes ingrained in your soul, in your skin. It changes you.” He leaned in. “Is that something you really want?” he asked quietly.

He could see the hunger in her eyes, the hunger for knowledge, and for power, and it ensorcelled him. It called to something holy, and deep, and dark inside of Jareth. He knew his precious girl was hardly aware of it herself, but there was a desperate craving in her eyes. He knew that look. Had felt it himself on more than one occasion.

He briefly entertained the thought of opening that channel, or teaching her what he knew. It would keep Sarah there, and wasn’t that exactly what Jareth wanted, after all? His small, black heart wanted nothing more than to keep her for himself. The poor girl hardly knew it would mean further cementing her ties to the Labyrinth...he could make use of that ignorance…

And yet there is something else hidden there, within the deep-set emerald of her eyes. Something I hadn’t noticed before, or had simply taken for granted…

The doors burst open, and the spell seemed to have broken. Jareth cursed under his breath, and looked away.

“Well,” Niamh said, sounding as petulant as ever, “It appears I’ve been forgotten about. I must say, Jareth, I haven’t been treated this horribly since the last time I was here.”

Niamh stood in the doorway of the library, one hand planted prettily on her hip, while the other clasped a goblet of golden wine in her hand. A sharp retort was just on the tip of his tongue, but Bristen beat Jareth to it.

“My lady, won’t you please forgive us for our lack of hospitality toward your person? It has been some time since we’ve had a guest of such esteem, and we’ve been terribly remiss.”

Niamh continued to stare at Jareth, completely put off. Jareth, being too aware of Sarah at his side, simply inclined his head in what could be construed as acknowledgement.

“His Majesty has declared his desire to hold a private breakfast in the solarium tomorrow between the two of you in order to...properly catch up.”

Jareth threw a venomous look at Bristen, who received it with cunning indifference. Jareth understood almost immediately. He believed, as Jareth did, that there was more to the story, and that dining privately with Niamh would give Bristen the opportunity to interview Sarah himself. Loath as Jareth was to admit it, it was very possible that Sarah might admit more to Bristen than she would to him.

“Ten o’clock, my lady,” Jareth said, strolling past Sarah and taking Niamh’s hand in his own. He raised it to his lips and pressed her hand to his mouth. There. Perhaps some cordiality to Niamh could kill two birds with one stone, he thought.

[browsethestacks]

Labyrinth by Eric Powell

[silvaris]

Fairy Glen Circle by Maya Inlé

[thefabulousweirdtrotters]

Homo Algus, Marais de Séné, Bretagne, France 

Land art by Sophie Prestigiacomo

[kingofthegxblins]

[kingofthegxblins]

[universesofcheska]

Labyrinth 2

[kingofthegxblins]

Leaving Sarah’s company filled Jareth with the strangest sensation. It was partly relief, although he was loathe to admit it. The woman did crazy things to him, made him act in ways he didn’t know he was capable of acting. She brought out everything in him: the worst, the best...the most fragile, the most cruel. He hated being so vulnerable around a person, especially her. But he couldn’t help himself. She gutted him.  

He had little time to reflect on their conversation, however, knowing full well that he could do so later. At present, he needed to tell Cook to arrange dinner, have someone tell Niamh and Bristen, change into dinner attire...maybe then he could think about how Sarah gazed longingly around the room he crafted just for her…

It was with these thoughts swirling in his head that he almost collided with another person. He stopped short, gave a small grunt of surprise, then scowled angrily. When he brought his eyes up, Bristen’s sheepish expression came into view.

“Bloody-!” Jareth put a hand to his chest, a pantomime of calming the erratic organ beneath his breastbone. “Do not,” he emphasized, pointing at Bristen, “Do that.”

The man showed no sign of intimidation. “How did it go?” he asked instead, feigning casual.

The royal sighed. “Far better than was expected.”

He took off once more, Bristen hot on his heels.

“Really?” he said disbelievingly. As if remembering himself, Bristen cleared his throat. “What I meant to say was...that’s most fortunate!”

Jareth rolled his eyes. “You are diplomatic to a fault, Straum...but a terrible liar.” Jareth smiled, his shark’s teeth catching the fading rays of afternoon sunlight. They rounded a corner, and a flock of goblins nearly careened into them. Jareth swore under his breath, surprised for the second time in as many minutes. Bristen laughed.

“Oh good, I’ve run into a band of you terrors just as I had need of you.” Jareth crouched down to their level, and looked each of them in the eye. “Go and tell Cook she’s to have dinner ready in an hour. Set for...four,” Jareth grimaced, remembering his unexpected guest. He’d have to deal with that, too. Lovely, he thought, uncharitably.

“And you,” Jareth said, pointing to the tallest, one of the least stupid of the lot, “Will inform Lady Niamh and will escort her to the banquet hall. On time,” he emphasized. The goblin nodded. Jareth sighed. “Off you go, then.”

Before they all got away, he grabbed one by its floppy ear. “Oh, and one more thing,” he murmured, smiling slowly. “Tell Cook: any more little ‘surprises’, and she and I will be having a decidedly unpleasant conversation. Understand?”

The goblin wagged its head up and down, the motion strong enough to send its misshapen cranium flying.

Jareth narrowed his eyes. “Do you really?”

The goblin stopped nodding, and stared at Jareth blankly.

He sighed once again. “Repeat what I said back to me.”

The goblin opened its’ mouth. It’s voice was oddly shrill for its dumpy frame. “If Cook makes surprise, you bog.”

Jareth considered the goblin, tapping his finger against his lip. He considered. “Well, that’s more or less what I meant. Good enough,” he said with obvious appeasement. He released the goblin’s ear. “Go.”

The goblin scampered off to do as he was bid, nearly running into a nearby wall in the process. It was a good thing goblins were so formidable, else he would be scrambling to replace them left and right.

Jareth straightened up, rubbing his temples in consternation. Bristen laughed again, and Jareth shot him a dirty look.

“Must be a strain having so many minions at your disposal, Your Majesty,” Bristen said with a smile.

“You have no idea,” Jareth said drolly, heading in the direction of his chambers. He had an outfit to pick out.

He settled on something simple, but tastefully elegant. He wasn’t sure what Sarah would choose, and depending on her choice, he didn’t want her to feel over or under-dressed. He picked out an emerald green tailed shirt with onyx bottoms, fully buttoned, tucked into black trousers under black boots. He wore no vest nor overcoat, and no ornamentation. His crest was around his neck as always. He did, however, tie his hair back with a leather thong, on whimsy. He was curious to see if Sarah would have any reaction.

When he entered the dining hall, he was pleased to see that Bristen had gone just as casual. He wore a burnt orange vest over a white poet’s shirt, and brown trousers and boots. Niamh had not yet arrived, and Jareth was grateful.

“No sign of your woman yet, then,” Bristen commented loftily, obviously baiting Jareth.

He merely replied with a rise of his eyebrow, as if asking, with disdain, Which one? Bristen laughed under his breath.

Niamh entered the room shortly thereafter with her goblin escort, whom she waved away without so much as a glance. Her dress wasn’t any more humble than her last. She still displayed copious amounts of skin, none of which interested Jareth. Still, forced into his role, he led her to her seat (next to Bristen, who would sit to his left), and sat her down. She eyed the spot to his right, obviously displeased, but knew better than to say anything. Jareth chuckled darkly on the inside.

He had barely walked to stand behind his chair when a bundle of dark hair and white cloth suddenly fell from the sky. Jareth’s eyebrows shot into his hairline at the sight, his astonishment nearly comical.

“Well now,” he said, blinking slowly, his surprise ebbing away, “That was unexpected.”

He strode around the side of the table to where she fell, lowered himself to her level, and gazed into her eyes. “But, then again,” he said quietly, “Nothing with you is, is it?”

Looking her over with concern, fearful that she had hurt herself from the fall, he noticed two things immediately: she was dirty, and she was very, very underdressed.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to look, but... Sarah was temptation personified. He wanted to take all of her in, from her dripping locks to her bare toes. Still, it was incredibly rude to leave her underdressed, dirty, and with wet hair on the cold floor for his perusal.

He was a cad, and a jack ass, but he still had some manners.

He flicked his arm out to the side and produced a long, silken dressing robe made of the finest, thickest silk. It was dark green with black velvet trimming, picked unconsciously with the added bonus of matching his own clothing. It draped down to the floor, and tied with a thick sash in front. Jareth threw it around her shoulders, using the opportunity of being beneath the line of sight to help her cover herself. He took the liberty to furnish her feet with matching slippers, and dry her hair too, a thought that was nearly as subconscious as his color choice.

He held out a hand to her, and helped lift her to her seat.

“There, now,” Jareth said. “Our party is full. No reason not to start the meal.” A twist of his wrist, and a crystal sat on his fingertips. He brought it to his lips, a hair’s breadth from touching its surface, and spoke. “We are ready. The first course, and do be quick about it.”

A goblin shot out from the kitchen holding a tray and got about three steps before falling on his face and spilling the contents. Jareth sighed heavily, squeezed the bridge of his nose, and waved his hand in the direction of the mess. It disappeared instantly. He spoke into the crystal again, his tone bordering on impatient.

“Could you at least send someone capable of walking and holding something at the same time?”

Another goblin appeared, dragging the fallen goblin by its’ feet back into the kitchen. As the door opened, Jareth could hear Cook distantly shouting and banging pans upon heads. A small, sharp smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The second goblin came back out, notably less eager than the last, and served the guests with surprising grace. Jareth kept his face blank, but couldn’t help but look at Sarah from the corner of his eye. It was lucky that the goblins had made a spectacle (as always). It kept the attention off of Sarah, who might have been the sole source of strangeness for the entire meal.

He was sorely tempted to say something such as, So, Sarah, do you often entire a room by the ceiling? or, Sarah, how nice of you to drop in!, but held his tongue. There was plenty of time to tease her later. In private, where he could greedily absorb her reactions without an audience.

Just as he was about to open the discussion, Bristen spoke, turning to Sarah with a polite smile. Jareth tried not to let that annoy him.

“I hope you were able to get some rest, Sarah. As you can see, things tend to get a little...boisterous around here.”

Jareth waited for Sarah to respond before adding on.

“You make it sound as though I do not make every effort to house my guests comfortably, Bristen. The insinuation that I do not magically sound-proof the doors alone could be construed as insulting.”

For anyone unfamiliar with their relationship, they would have thought Bristen was in trouble. However, such was their friendship that Bristen merely rolled his eyes and turned back to his soup, smiling.

“Your Majesty will pardon me. I did not mean to insinuate that at all. Merely to state that the Goblin Kingdom is an active and exciting place.”

Jareth could have sworn he heard someone at the table snort, but chose, wisely, to pretend he hadn’t heard it. He was enjoying the game.

“Yes, yes, very exciting. So exciting that I’ve managed to retain your dull company for the past 200 years.”

Bristen grinned at him, fondness lingering unmistakably in his gaze. Jareth’s eyes twinkled, but he kept his mouth straight.

“What can I say?” Bristen continued. “I go where the fun goes.”

“And now, of course,” Niamh said, reminding him, pointedly, that she was still there, “That there are two lovely ladies here, it must make it even more impossible to leave.” Her eyes were narrowed sharply in Sarah’s direction, predatory and assessing.

Jareth clenched his goblet tightly as he took a drink. Niamh even so much as breathing in Sarah’s direction put him on edge. “But of course,” Jareth said, looking for all intents and purposes as if he agreed with her statement, even if he only truly thought one of them was deserving of being called ‘lovely’.

“What do you make of it, Sarah?” Bristen asked, turning to her again. “The Labyrinth, I mean. You’ve been here once before. Do you find it very changed? How does this time compare to the last?”

Jareth took another sip of his drink, but kept his eyes on her from over the cup’s mouth, curious to hear her answer.

[oddlycinematic]

Legend (1985), Ridley Scott

[findyours3lfm]

[universesofcheska]

Labyrinth 2

[kingofthegxblins]

He could read the skepticism in her aura long before he could read it in her eyes. Jareth was no mind reader (coveted though the ability was), but he knew Sarah. Down to the marrow, if such a thing were possible.

She didn’t want to believe him. Trust was tug of war, and because she knew Jareth, too, she knew that holding trust over his head would drive him mad. He knew she knew that.

During her run through the Labyrinth, Sarah believed she would be safe. It was an unspoken accord between them. She had enough trust in this mysterious, baby-snatching, non-human figure to trust that he would act  in good faith and keep her from harm.

Such assumptions were deadly.

He had never intended to hurt her. At every turn where an obstacle presented itself, there had been a fail-safe in place to keep Sarah from harm. But she hadn’t known that. So when he approached her in the tunnels beneath the Labyrinth after she had been tricked by the doorkeepers and had fallen into the oubliette, he knew that trust was broken. The faith she had placed in him was forfeit, and all bets were off.

He understood that, but it hadn’t prevented his disappointment. Irrational, of course, but when it came to Sarah, Jareth was incapable of being rational. After all, he had thrown a snake at her the first time they met.

Not his finest moment.

But he was endeavoring to do better. He would show her that she could trust him. And if he only gained that little by little, instead of all at once as he wished, so be it.

He almost regretted the invitation when she looked at him so shrewdly. His soul felt bared to her scrutiny, and while he knew he offered without guile, he was still shamed before her. She sought out truth and goodness, and Jareth knew he didn’t have much to offer in the latter department. He was a creature of habit, of selfish impulses, and had never been in the business of pleasing others. This was new, terrifying territory, and Sarah was charting the way.

But he couldn’t help himself. At her insistence of his oath, he smirked, and held up his hand to his eye level, palm facing out. “On my honor, I swear on my blackened, shriveled heart that you are safe, precious.”

Not good enough. Not for Sarah. She was too smart to fall for his paltry tricks. She was also brave, and overconfident, too, but he liked that about her. Not many people could look into the eye of a fae and demand their bond.

A thought of what he should do crossed his mind, and before his pride could prevent him, he followed through.

As they were standing quite close, he took a step back. His hand changed directions, facing him now, made its’ way up to his chest, and rested over his heart. He bowed, solemn, eyes down. He addressed her:

“Sarah Williams, I swear on my crown and on my life’s blood that you will be safe whilst in my care. That you will be free from all bodily and mental harm, and that you will have the sovereign protection of my throne to keep you safe.”

He kept his eyes on her feet, but the words felt like a benediction, rather than a sentencing.

“My word as my bond,” he said, invoking the ancient words spoken on the Hill. “My creed is my deed. I am forsworn.

“Be it so.”  

It was quiet. Trepidation curdled in his belly. He was afraid to look up, afraid to show her that fear, and was embarrassed for himself for being afraid. Still, he wanted to let the words sink in, wanted to let the subtle magic behind his creed speak for him. It was very near the words of a marriage vow, the reminder of which caused a shudder to rip through him. He hadn’t intended on speaking so intimately to her, but in his own words, “what’s said is said”.

He finally looked up. He rose slowly, one vertebrae at a time, and kept his eyes on Sarah’s. Her gaze was so lovely, so verdant and intelligent. He could look into her eyes all day, and like a wretch, always wonder what she saw.

“It’s all I can give you,” he said honestly. He extended a hand towards the doors, and they flew open softly. “I’ll show you to that room now. Perhaps you’ll make up your mind when you see it? Just to make certain it’s not a cell?” he gently teased.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had ever been so caring with another person. The last creature, certainly. A rather skittish colt came to mind. He had been tending to her, a young thing that had recently come into his possession and had seemed anything but compliant. He remembered thinking of Sarah at the time, and amusement had engendered a soft snicker to leave his mouth. The horse had stomped lightly at that, but didn’t seem completely offended. He had spent four days in row, day and night, grooming the horse, talking to her, and changing her shoes himself. He wasn’t exactly sure why he had taken the job of it upon himself, but he had been in a strange place at the time. Pensive, certainly. Morose, potentially. The life of an immortal was a long one, often lonely, and caring for something mortal seemed to give immortality a purpose.

At the end of the four days, Jareth had bonded with the creature. She was still somewhat headstrong and independent, but she obeyed Jareth. What was more important, however, was that she trusted him. She’d let him ride her in time, and unlike the rest of his horses, had not bucked him off once. She was deservedly his favorite from then on. If Sarah considered staying, he rather thought he’d like to introduce the two of them. They were kindred spirits, after all.

Rather than immediately transporting them, he elected to walk with her towards her rooms. It was a quiet walk on both sides. He imagined they were both thinking of the oath he had given, and rather than extend more platitudes, he wished to let it sink in. Let his actions, and his hospitality, speak for themselves. He was discovering that with Sarah, perhaps more things were communicated when unsaid.

The chambers he had prepared for her were down the hall from his. He had a presumptuous thought to place her in the chambers next to his, those traditionally used for the Queen Consort, but he resisted the urge. He had envisioned decorating that particular room many times over the years, but he had stomped the idea out as quickly as possible. That way led to madness, and he couldn’t afford to think so foolishly.

They stopped before the large, ornate doors, studying the woodland creatures carved into the wood. There was a large knocker on the door, similar to the ones she had encountered in the Labyrinth, but these were blissfully inanimate. He gave Sarah a small smile, and pushed his way in.

It was one of the largest, if not the largest, guest chamber in the castle. A fire was already burning merrily in the fireplace, the opening as tall as he was. A large gilded mirror hung above it, reflecting the many candleabras in the room. A chaise sat before the fire, as well as a little table, and across from the fireplace there was a writing desk. Walking into the rooms more deeply, there was a golden vanity, complete with a plush chair, a towering mirror, and several vials of perfumes and makeup adorning the surface. Towards the triplicate, floor-to-ceiling windows sat the bed, a monstrosity of furniture, complete with hanging curtains and a carved headboard.  Furs decorated the floor everywhere to ward off the castle cold. There were two doors: one leading to a bathing chamber, and the other to the wardrobe. A changing barrier was also stationed outside the wardrobe.

Jareth looked at Sarah nervously. He wasn’t sure what she saw. He hoped she liked it, but he was wary that she might think it an enormous bribe. Or worse, a prison. He rocked back on his heels and clasped his hands behind his back.

“The room is yours for however long you’d like to stay. If you’d like to stay, that is,” he amended. “The room is subject to your desires; should you wish any change, simply speak it and the room will be adjusted.” He stepped closer, taking her attention from the room.

“I’d like for you to stay, Sarah. For us to sort out what happened, at the very least,” he told her, quite solemnly. “Perhaps you’ll even favor me and have dinner with me tonight? I’ll invite Bristen too, since he seemed so taken with your company.” And Niamh, he added silently, realizing that he could not leave her out, as much as he wanted to.

“I’ll give you some time to freshen up. Someone will come to collect you in an hour. Please make yourself at home...Sarah.” And with that, he disappeared.

[miss-wednesday98]

Jareth, the Goblin King aesthetic

Twitter >>>  @xFandomEdit