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Mine	By : Wyldian Category: G through L > Labyrinth Views: 3243 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or David Bowie. Sad face. Nor do I make any profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Mine
- 2-Two
- 1
- 2
AN: - It's 1am. I'm tired. I dunno wtf I just did here but basically the idea was this: OMGAH! What if Jim Henderson made porn?!?! And this shit happened. Sorry for the typos etc. Will proof soon and tweak I promise. Pinky swear. No, really. That's like a thing now. I'm bringing it back. Along with sexy. And anal. Observe:
Two
Coughing, he waved the damn smoke out of his damn face and leaned back against the solid, darkened walls of the New Labyrinth. If the girl were on the right track to becoming a great queen, she were certainly a lousy magician, Jareth amended impatiently, squinting as the small cloud surrounding him began to disperse. Not to mention an…interesting interior decorator. Pushing himself back off of the wall on his heel, the tall man stood and gazed up at even taller walls. He had thought himself in the grip of one of the realm’s infamous oubliettes before the smoke had cleared and he had found himself facing cold bricks and mortar. Yet, as he had taken a look back over his shoulder, Jareth saw the reality of this strange new Labyrinth, Sarah’s Labyrinth. The walls, now black and crumbling seemed aged far beyond the years that had passed since he and the new queen had stood here in the idyllic romantic landscape. The sun kissed autumn skies were now clothed in midnight blue, lit only by the light of a soft white moon, lingering above the barest of turrets in the centre, signalling the beginnings of the Goblin city. And the trees - so many trees - stripped bare and willowy, hanging in the wind, fragile and ominous. The structure itself much the same shape but different still, littered in a thousand tiny orange lights at each corner, barely illuminating tall hedges and cobbled stones. Leaning back against the wall, Jareth pondered night time in the Labyrinth and what it meant to him out here, no longer protected within the centre. The hours always passed out here but the sun never set and the moon never rose on what few runners he had entertained over the millenia. It seemed strange that they should do so now.

Then, he had always wanted to see the moon shine from way up here.

A small smile broke his pensive stare. But of course, somehow, as Queen, she had known that, hadn’t she? Well played, Sarah. Well played.

Stepping down, Jareth picked his way through the small wilderness he found waiting for him along the small dipping hill, towards the entrance. He glimpsed the white of a wildflower or two, the solemn sight of withering daisies. Was he really so romantic or had she merely thought him so? It was difficult to tell. And without a timepiece, he wasn’t inclined to stop to ask the blasted things, though they might have told them had he woken them. It was one reason why Jareth barely entertained posies or pansies or any other such nonsense. In a place where even the doors had not only ears but mouths, a wealth of gossiping flora was the last thing one needed or wanted. Particularly in a city crawling with Goblins.

After a brief foray with a particularly trying descent, the Goblin King found at last the entrance, stepping down upon the beaten path. Yet as he did so, Jareth became increasingly aware of a rustling beyond the curved wall, behind the hefty expensive wooden door he had purchased several (hundred?) years ago. He remembered the girl he’d done business with quite nicely: supple round breasts, dark, sun kissed skin and clear hazel eyes. She’d certainly have fetched a pretty penny had he sold her outright but the door was a worth trade and every bit as lovely. He’d have been sad to have seen it go.

Once more, his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden noise from behind the door.

Chuckling, definitely chuckling. Somebody was home at least.

Standing feet astride, the former King, grandly swept aside the left shoulder of his cloak though he had no intention of knocking. One does not simply knock on a door, beloved or not, Jareth thought with a sniff. One threatens the blasted thing with obliteration and it opens.

And so, readying himself for said obliteration when it failed to obligingly open, the fae lurched back onto his left foot, extended a gloved hand, recited an internal incantation and…blinked when it quite abruptly flung open.

“WHO GOES THERE?!” came a great, booming voice, vibrating through the floor beneath Jareth’s booted feet.

“Oh shi-,” Jareth caught himself. Barely, “You know very well who I am,” he began, congratulating himself on a flawless recovery, “To whom am I speaking?”

“THOU SHALT NOT PASS!”

“Right.” Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose, “I feel it prudent to point out that I’m not trying to pass. Yet. Who is it I’m speaking to?”

“Never mind me!” came another, considerably higher pitched voice, “Oo the bloody ‘ell are you?”

Unsurprisingly, to Jareth’s mind at least, there was a not-so-hushed debate from behind the left door, “You switched the bloomin’ thing off…”

“…sorry…’ow do you?”

“Gimme that!”

“Ow! Watch yer ‘ands! Near poked me in the eye!”

“Mebbe if you’d keep still a minute I could show ye!”

Both goblins looked up suddenly to find themselves under the waiting eyes of the former Goblin King. Both jumped, the second, smaller goblin dropping his megaphone. Jareth rapped his fingers against the open door expectantly, having long tired of their attempted charade. He masked his surprise at the image of the two of them, all knotted fingers and pale green flesh. By Goblin standards they were pretty…standard…their dark hair matted and flicked out in all directions, genderless green tunics and shrill voices giving nothing away but echoing their wide, bulbous surprised eyes as they began to babble. Unhearing, Jareth’s eyes fixed upon large, protruding horn-like (was the polite word for them, he amended) growths sprouting directly from the tops of their large heads. Unable to draw his attention away from them, Jareth thought of something crude before blinking himself back into composure.

“Enough!” He said loudly, firmly.

Almost instantly, the pair stopped. Eyes flicking to the rounded corner behind them, Jareth pretended not to hear the shuffling of feet and barely concealed giggles that lay there.

“What is your purpose here? I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

The two exchanged anxious glances then gazed back up at the former Fae King, rising to their full length. From just below his waist, the second, larger goblin spoke up.

“We’s the gatekeepers. And you isn’t allowed to pass, Mr Jareth, Sir!”

Jareth’s expression was unchanged.

“And what, prey tell, can the two of you do to stop me?”

The shuffling of feet came again. Without a word, Tweedle Twit and Tweedle Dumber (Jareth had so named them since they apparently lacked the capacity to introduce themselves) disappeared in the direction of their brethren. Deciding not to worry himself further over the issue, Jareth began to round the corner into the first courtyard. But as he did, he found a road block of small creatures, all with those same ‘protrusions’ on their heads. Jareth’s eyebrows rose. He would rather not play such games. However, a deal was a deal, he mused. Biting the inside of his mouth, he counted to five, took a deep breath then asked.

“Fine.” he said, sounding bored, “Who are you and what in blazes do I have to do to get rid of you?”

The middle one stood forward a little boldly. He jumped back just as quickly when Jareth shot him a withering stare.

“We’re-” the reluctant spokesperson began, looking back nervously at his troop of nine Goblins. When met with wide, terrified eyes, he continued alone: “We’re Cockgoblins, guardians of the gate and we’re ‘ere to um…we’re the keys to the gate and you’re the…thingamajig…”

Jareth sighed. Loudly. Grimacing, he turned his finger, signalling these ‘Cockgoblins’ to get on with it.

“Y-yer the ‘ole…the lock! Ye need to put a key in a…”

The unfortunate Goblin trailed off as Jareth’s eyes flashed open, repulsed. Quickly, the tall fae stood back, mulling this over.

“So, in order to enter my own back garden, you require me to let you -all of you- bugger me?”

As one they all nodded, looking more than a little afraid, hunched together in a row, their heads - both of them - glistening brightly in the moonlight. The sound of the Fae’s boots echoed off the cobblestones as they paced. Ten large sets of eyes followed. When he stopped, they all tried to look elsewhere, obviously fearing the worst. Jareth smiled.

“Very well. Your request seems unpleasant but reasonable.”

The small gathering was quiet, before muttering rose up into the night, before the amused looking Jareth as he tapped a long finger against his chin.

“However.”

At this they all snapped back to attention.

“When - and I do mean when - I am triumphant in my little excursion, I shall not forget this moment. Or you. Any of you. In fact, you may find yourselves justly rewarded for this act.”

The goblins all started, the obvious threat in the voice of the man before them threading through their shaking bodies.

“B-but Sire,” began the foreman again (the porky one Jareth remembered from the gate actually, come to think of it: Tweedle Twit.), “Sir Jareth…the Queen will p-punish us if we dinnae perform our duty.”

They all mumbled in agreement. But of course, Jareth had expected nothing less. His smile grew wider.

“Oh I would never dream of compromising your service to our lovely Queen,” Jareth began, pacing around them in long, slow deliberate steps. “However, as per the rules of the game I believe I can challenge you to a dual of sorts. A game. Would you like to play?”

Knowing the infamous Goblin mentality, Jareth was unsurprised when the Cock goblins all nodded eagerly, looking grotesque in the light.

“We’re going to play a game called ‘Simon Says’,” Came the former King’s smooth, silken voice, “The rules are as follows: if I say ‘Simon Says’ then you follow the command. If I say a command without ‘Simon Says’ and you follow it then you incur one fail. Three fails and you let me pass. If you follow five commands correctly, I shall succumb to the terms of my passing through the gate here. Agreed?”

Again, a hurried mumbling and bobbing of heads. Turning away from the Cockgobins, Jareth tried not to look at their oddly shaped ‘horns’. Utterly monstrous.

“Firstly,” he said, stopping behind them, “Simon says: form a circle around me.”

Shuffling and bumping into each other clumsily, they practically fell over their feet to encircle him.

“Very good,” Jareth said softly, “Simon Says: turn left.”

This one took a little longer and Jareth watched on as several goblins debated the difference between left and right, holding out hands, trying to gage which was their ‘spear’ hand or their ‘womanly’ hand. Eventually they all turned, matching up to face each other’s backs: facing right, naturally, but nevertheless…

“You really are too smart for me,” his voice carried over them, earned toothy grins from several, “Simon Says: take three steps away from the circle.”

They did, widening the gap between them. Perfect.

“Tsk, tsk. I fear I have been bested already! Nevertheless, Simon says: bend over.”

Again they did, earning a barely concealed smirk from Jareth. Oh this was too easy. Now for the real test.

“Everyone but the chap in front of me take two steps forward.”

The sound as they, incorrectly, followed the order was glorious for two reasons. One, because the disgruntled bunch realised their error the moment they moved. Two, the Cock Goblins ‘horns’ slide up the tunics of the their peers and disappeared beneath thick, green bottom cheeks earning a collective shriek of surprise. Laughing, Jareth, looked around him at the connected Goblins.

“Oh dear. Simon didn’t say.”

As they tried to disconnect, Jareth shushed them.

“Ah, ah, ah!” He said quietly, “The games’ not over yet.”

A groan echoed around him.

“Simon says: don’t move.”

A stunned silence fell upon the circle, the Cockgoblins stuck together like sticks of lego, each penetrating the one in front of them.

“H-how long does Simon say?” came a shrill voice from behind him, sounding pained.

“I have no idea.” Jareth mused, stepping over the nearest to him and towards the entrance of the Labyrinth, “I ran out of commands. You won. Congratulations.”

“b-but-”

“Ta Ta for now,” He finished for them, before they…disconnected…barely suppressing a chuckle.

An impenetrable fortress, it might have been, the smug King thought, striding back into HIS Kingdom, had it been anyone else but him. For the man walking back into the land he helped to shape, it wasn’t a matter of finding the right key but knowing which keyhole to put it in.

Or several.

Laughing loudly now, Jareth finger waved up at the stars.
....from somewhere, over the hills and far away, the Queen smiled back at him.
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