Down in the Underground, You'll Find Someone True [Jareth x Reader]
But down in the underground
You'll find someone true
Down in the underground
A land serene
A crystal moon----------
You woke up with a start. You had that dream again, the one in the maze -- the nightmare, with all the goblins and strange, puppet-looking creatures, and--
Him. The king of the goblins, the one with the big, spiky hair, the long black boots, and the tight, tight trousers.
The bed felt slightly wet beneath you. Shit. You rose hurriedly to shake the sheets a little and open the window.
Where had these dreams come from? It wasn't like -- as your dad warned when you were younger -- you'd been watching scary movies again, and were receiving nightmares as a result. Nor, as tradition holds, were you eating cheese too late in the evening.
You thought you'd grown out of your overactive imagination. So why, all of a sudden, did this vivid labyrinthine setting, host of monsters, and very fully fleshed-out hero enter your subconscious every single night for the past few weeks?
You traced your mind back to anything from your youth, any childhood trauma that lurked beneath these images. Nope, nothing so specific as a goblin kingdom.
Well, it was just past 9; you might has well have something to eat now that you were up. At least it was the weekend -- it's always worse trying to distract yourself from fantasies when you have study or work or places to be in the morning.
Fantasy. Huh. That's exactly it. I mean, it's not exactly like these are total nightmares. The Goblin King is -- how shall we put it -- compelling...right?
You spilt your tea in your daydreaming. Fuck! That's hot. Right, something has to change. You can't be sweating in fright at trying to escape the maze every night, and lying drenched (perhaps for other reasons) remembering Him in the mornings.
That's when you spotted it. There, on your perfectly-arranged -- albeit overflowing -- bookshelf. An antique volume you'd never seen before. It was fairly small, with a dull, reddish leather binding. You took it down. On the cover, a two word title:
The Labyrinth
...
You picked up the mysterious tome, and began to read.
Many minutes, and then hours passed, and you didn't notice -- didn't even raise your eyes from the page, you were so engrossed in the written world of The Labyrinth. What was so strange was how familiar it all felt, from your dream, and yet you were certain you had never seen this book before in your life, let alone read it. Stranger yet was the fact that this mysterious book didn't mention the name of an author anywhere, let alone any details about when or where it was written.
It was a compelling tale, though: a young man named Jareth was kidnapped from the human world on earth by a horde of goblins, and raised by them as their King. He ruled the kingdom with an iron fist, and the only way he could escape from the land himself was to find an heir. How this would be achieved, the book did not say.
In fact, the story itself was left unfinished, and so when you finally put the book down, you felt as full of questions as ever.
Oh well, you'd ask your housemates when they returned home, perhaps they knew more about the thing. However, you didn't necessarily feel like elaborating on your corresponding dream -- some things are allowed to stay private, after all!
------
7pm.
You sat down for dinner and tv with your friends, and decided to broach the topic of the book 'that one of you left on my desk? Where did it come from?'
Two blank faces met your questions. 'What book?' they seemed to say in unison, and you duly brought it out for a kind of grown-up show-and-tell. It was received with interest, but you gained no insight whatsoever: neither of your housemates had left it out for you, and had no idea where it came from. To conceal your increasing anxiety and bewilderment, you moved the conversation on, saying that your parents must have passed it down to you and it just slipped your mind -- ignoring the unconvinced expressions either side of you.
------
When the time came for you to go to bed, you felt a mixture of emotions. On the one hand, perhaps this new development might prompt your dream to develop, too. Perhaps you'd get a little closer to the Goblin King. On the other hand, what if this reality made the dream stop entirely, and you never entered the Labyrinth again? The third possibility was one you tried to push from your mind. That the arrival of a mysterious book was a bad omen, and the dream was perhaps closer to reality than you would like to think...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
God. Last night he was more entrancing than ever. What's in a name? Seemingly, a lot, you thought: now you knew his name was 'Jareth', your dreaming-self seemed to gasp the words as you saw him, and he seemed to turn slightly your way, and then back again.
He hadn't noticed you before. In all the previous iterations of your recurring dream, you seemed to float through the world of The Labyrinth as a kind of observer, watching, feeling, but not participating.
This time, whatever curtain existed between your spectating and the characters' living seemed to shake a little, or draw very slightly back.
He'd heard your gasp, you just knew it. He might not have been able to see you -- yet -- but he'd heard it. Your heart raced with the excitement of this possibility. You felt silly for entertaining it, but you felt sheer thrill at the idea that the dream was changing. Not only that, but that your desire was changing it. Desire was power.
-----
The next night, you lay your head down on the pillow and willed it. Willed that the Goblin King would not only hear you, but see you. That the curtain would slip fully -- even just for a moment -- and that you would exist in the world of The Labyrinth.
When you awoke, you traced your mind back to the dream. It had started in the same way, you were making your way through the maze, encountering a colourful array of characters as you went, before finally reaching the castle. It was there that you saw him. But did he really see you? You'd spoken his name, and he turned, like before, but this time he stayed. He gazed in your direction with his hands on his hips, and you remember gulping.
And then -- he said something. What was it? How on earth could you forget anything that he did? Were you distracted? Dazed? You felt like hitting yourself for your stupidity.
He said something about the goblins, that was it. Something about being taken away. Hmm. Maybe you ought to consult the book again, yes, that's a good idea.
Wait a minute! Shit. It was a Monday, and you were running late. You leapt up, cursing yourself. 'If a crush on some *fictional* guy makes me lose my job, I deserve it at this rate!', you cried aloud, as you hurried to dress.
The Labyrinth would have to wait.
