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The Once and Future Goblin King - Complete	By : jinx1764 Category: G through L > Labyrinth Views: 3758 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth, don't make any money, this is a work of fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
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Secrets and Mysteries

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Stuffed with rich foods and dressed in luxurious clothes, I stare at the warm, real fire dancing in the hearth. How did my life take such a surreal direction? My disorientation is boundless as I attempt to puzzle my way through my new reality, and I feel Jareth's eyes on my long before he speaks.
He's given me time to adjust before our chat. Allowed me to eat my fill, provided the velvet dress which harkens to medieval times; I wonder at his preferences in this futuristic Aboveground. Is that why he wants me here? Has he tired of feeling out of place, an anachronism? I frown; it couldn't possibly be that simple. Could it?
"Feeling better?" he asks.
I look over my shoulder at the door where he's standing. "Compared to what?"
He smiles wanly and shrugs. "Fair enough." His boots click on the flagstone as he leisurely makes his way to the table, hands tucked at the small of his back. "This must all seem very jarring for you."
"Jarring?" Sardonic laughter slips from me. "You do have a way of diminishing things which you'd rather not face, don't you?" His scowl is his only answer as he sits opposite of me, chair creaking at his royally slouched weight. Perhaps I know him better than I thought.
"I'd hardly call this," he motioned at our cozy situation, "being unwilling to face you."
My fists slamming the table top punctuate my words. "Two hundred years, Jareth!" I'm pleased at his faint flinch. "You trapped me for nearly two hundred fucking years!"
His snarl and lunge startles me, his face a study in twisted aggravation. "Am I to feel pity for you when my own imprisonment lasted hundreds of years longer?"
"W-what?" The rear of my head hits the hard, high-backed chair as Jareth practically crawls over the food remnants at me, his eyes aglow and wrathful.
"Oh yes, dear, put-upon, Sarah. You believe yourself the only one so ill-used? Try existing in that hell for over fourteen hundred years." Our faces inches apart, he growls, then jerks back to fling a wine-filled goblet across the room. Its metallic dissonance clattering against the stone wall bruises my eardrums, and dark liquid is violently sprayed. I'm stunned, both by his display and his confession. Exactly how old is Jareth? What is he?
"Who are you?" The back of his shoulders twitch, he's still facing the wall. "Really," I add softly.
A deep sigh whispers from him and his body seems to sag with the weight of my question. Keeping his back to me, his white, silken shirt caresses his lean frame with each deep breath, he says, "There is soo much you do not understand..."
I stand; the wooden legs of the chair scrape the stone floor. The harsh sound competes with our rapid breathing and the crackling fire. "Then tell me."
A bitter laugh escapes him and I see how he pinches his nose with one hand, head bowed. "I know you, Sarah. I know you've been plotting your revenge against me."
"Jareth..." He spins, faces me; I step back a pace, wary and watching him.
"But what you lack is information to complete your plans." He moves slightly closer with an odd gleam in his eyes. "What if I were to give you that information?"
My eyes narrow. "Why would you do that?"
With a deceptively nonchalant cocking of his head and furrowing of his brow, he answers, "Perhaps I'd like to earn your trust."
"You really expect me to believe that?" I cross my arms over my chest, figuratively as well emotionally defensive.
"You may, of course, choose to believe whatever you wish." He saunters closer and I was torn between confronting and kissing him, all my fears and desires muddled into an overworked heap.
"How very generous of you."
"Defensiveness does not become you, precious thing."
"Don't call me that! I'm not your thing!"
"No," he says in a wistful tone as he moves into my personal space, bringing his hand up to cup the side of my face. I freeze at the soft look in his eyes. "You're not. You're my queen, my Sarah."
A quick inhalation and I hold my breath, gaping at the man, the monster standing before me with a look of adoration beaming down. His bare hand feels warm and callus-free on my skin. All my hormones revolt in opposition to my mind's need for vengeance; while my heart, my forlorn, broken heart, struggles somewhere in the middle. What does he really want from me? Why this? Why now? A frown twists my lips, stresses my brow.
"Shall I tell you my greatest secret? What no one else alive knows?"
Speechless, and more than a bit flabbergasted, I nod. Perhaps if I learn something more of him, I can use it to my advantage.
"Sarah, precious, I was imprisoned much as you were sometime in the year of our Lord 563. I was betrayed and left to rot in that in between place of mists."
"Oh no..."
"She said she loved me, then she tried to steal my abilities, and when she proved unsuccessful, she chose to turn the magic against me, trapping me instead."
"It can't be," I shake my head, "it's just a legend."
A grim smile is returned to me. "All legends are based on a grain of truth. Do you understand now? Do you see?"
"It's not possible..." It couldn't be, but his strangely lit eyes bore truth into my soul as his words confirm my suspicions.
"Oh, it's quite possible. My real name is Merlin."
"Oh God..." My knees buckle and Jareth (for I can't refer to him by any other name) catches me, his arms band about my waist before I can melt to the floor. Instead, he cradles me to his chest, limp and unresisting.
"I see you know your Arthurian legends well, Sarah."
"How can this be?" I look up from my intimate vantage, my flushing cheek presses to his torso while my arms hang at my sides.
"After all you've seen, you can still doubt the existence of the impossible?"
"That's not ... I mean, how can you still be alive?"
"You must have realized your lack of aging whilst in that place?"
"Yes."
"That takes care of most of those years."
"But what of the last two hundred? Why do you look the same as when I last saw you? You should be dead, shouldn't you?"
"Ah," he nods and tightens his embrace, "my magic has strengthened over the centuries. The magic Morgana failed to steal from me."
"So you did keep your magic?" My strength returns incrementally, and I pull away, just enough to create a wall of space between our bodies; his heat lingers through the velvet of my bodice.
"Of course I did, but you've already surmised that." He chuckled at my stupidity; I blush. "My magic has been a part of me long before I was sent to that hell."
"It still doesn't explain why you're still alive and young now."
"So many questions, precious." He reaches for my face again, but I step back. I sense the answer to the question will define everything. He gives me a sort of facial shrug, drops his arm and steps away.
"You said you'd tell me what I want to know."
"Did I now?"
"Don't play with me. I'm tired of your games, Jareth."
His hands come up in mock surrender. "No more games."
A flash of insight hits me, an answer buried within. "Your being alive has to do with my family doesn't it?"
"So quick, my Sarah." His feral smirk chills me to my soul. What has he done?
"David ... you're really his uncle?"
Jareth's full-throated laughter echoes in the bedroom, chilling me. "Don't be ridiculous! Of course I'm not his uncle."
"You're not?" Relief floods through me, followed quickly by dread.
"No, I'm his father."
Words fail me for several seconds. Really, what can I say? I stand like a fish as he waits.
Finally I say, "I want to speak to David."
Jareth bows his head. "But of course you do. Shall we?" He motions towards the door, offering me his elbow, and I have little choice but to allow him to escort me outside the safety of the magic-dampened room.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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The Once and Future Goblin King - Complete