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Fair Sarah	By : dragonslover1 Category: G through L > Labyrinth Views: 4861 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth. I am not profiting from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Prologue
- 2-One
- 3-Two
- 4-Three
- 5-Four
- 1
- 2
- 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth, nor am I profiting from this fanfiction.

Fair Sarah

One

“I wish the goblins would come and take me away. Right. Now.”

The words slid through the air, diving deeper, deeper, down and down and down. Slowly—though a mere second had passed—the words reach the Goblin King.

He was startled by what he heard. No one had ever wished themselves to his kingdom before. More so, he recognized that voice, feminine and strong and just a tad bit wistful, as though the speaker were always half in dreams. It was a voice he had not expected to hear again, and yet, the sound of it was welcome. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that lovely creature.

And he did miss her, he would not deny that. She’d given him quite the game. Few ever won his games, and not only had she managed the feat, but she’d also entertained him more than any other had before. A few times during their interactions, he’d given her promises, promises he’d intended to keep—had she accepted them. The words had been honest.

He was a covetous man when it came down to it, and Sarah was so precious, so fiery, so willing to deny him that she’d only increased her appeal. He wanted her in his kingdom, his to talk to, to taunt, to bicker with. His to view, to shape and reshape (should she allow it), his to take if the mood struck him.

But even he had to obey the rules of his world, and when she beat him at his own game, he’d been helpless to send her back. Her and her brother. By then he had suspected she wanted to win for the sake of winning more than for her brother, but perhaps that was vanity speaking. What was important now was that after all these years, her voice echoed in the halls of his castle once more.

He’d let her go once, had held back from unleashing his harshest measures because he wanted her to flourish. He would not do so again. She wanted back, and he would welcome her with open arms.

In an instant, he stood in front of her, transporting himself to her location. Her eyes were shut, her chin lifted. She wore deep blue jeans over sandaled feet, a short-sleeved blouse in white on her chest, with a brown belt just below her breasts.

Notable breasts, he added to himself. She had. . .grown. . .quite a bit. Putting his focus back on her request, words purred from him, a gentle caress. “Hello again, Sarah.”

Her eyes opened, not even startled by his sudden appearance. She did, however, seem disappointed as her gaze roved the area around her. She was still in an apartment—her own, he assumed—with the shabby walling unable to really detract from the way she’d decorated it.

She had quite the sense of harmony, he noted. False flowers on vines were wrapped around a wire-made set of shelves. Christmas lights circled the ceiling in whites and blues. One wall was filled, top to bottom, with bookshelves, though the shelves held more than just tomes. Movies, CDs, trinkets, scented oil sticks, even the odd stuffed animal decorated it. Another wall was lined in shelves with various knick-knacks stacking them, including board games, he noted.

She hadn’t changed much in the last. . .how long had it been, he wondered? At least a decade. He had little patience for keeping time.

“You look so sad,” he said aloud.

“I was hoping it would work,” she answered him, her gaze finally sweeping over him. Did she like what she saw? “I suppose it doesn’t count if I wish myself there, does it?”

“It does,” he answered her. Immediately excitement flared in her dark eyes. He began to stride around her, his steps slow and measured, speaking as he went. “I came personally to ensure there was no slip of the tongue. Usually I only take babes,” he commented, thoughtful. “Adults, teenagers, even children are harder to indoctrinate.” Her eyes followed his motions until he was behind her, where he stopped, her shoulders and neck pivoted to keep him in sight.

“Tell me then, Sarah,” he murmured, “are you quite certain about this? You cannot save yourself from my kingdom. No one will come to rescue you, no matter how you may wish for it.” Fair warning, he thought to himself, then chuckled inwardly. Fair. Her once favorite word—was it still?

“Yes,” she answered, almost interrupting him.

He arched a brow at her. She truly wished to return? Granted, then. He adored this woman’s spirit, the conviction with which she lived. Her determination, her sharp tongue. Few ever countered him, opposed him. She had done so—and won. There would never be another Sarah, he knew, and for this he wanted to preserve her life. To this end, having her in his kingdom would more than suffice.

No one died in his realm. Not unless he willed it.

Still, he couldn’t resist baiting her a bit more. “I offered you forever once,” he reminded her, continuing his trek around her. “You turned me down. You retrieved your brother, you won my game, and you were happy to leave. What changed?” he pressed.

This was more than simple curiosity. Her mind eluded even his most focused probes, her inner workings so different from those he’d analyzed in the past that he couldn’t say how she would react to anything he did. He could only theorize.

And he ached to understand her.

She was silent for several moments as she pondered on his question, her eyes seeming to dull in color, a spark draining from them. What was she contemplating? “I don’t regret that,” she finally answered. He wasn’t surprised. “I believe I achieved something very few can boast: that I won, against you, your Labyrinth and every being within it.” Pleasure lit her features for a brief moment and in that second, he noticed something.

He used to be pleased, too, when he won his games. Until each victory became more of the same. He’d ended up employing strict rules, binding himself to those rules, so he would have a harder time. And eventually, he grew so bored with his victories that only the losses pleased him. It was a break of the monotony.

When Sarah had won, he’d been very pleased. Even so, he’d mourned having to send her back, to not have her in his kingdom any longer. Thanks to the rules, he also couldn’t visit—not as a man, anyway. He could not step foot on the Aboveground unless he or his goblins had been summoned. And so he’d only been able to take the form of an owl and follow her for a time, always tempted to know what she would be doing next.

He had not done so in years, now.

Sarah continued on, “But the victory did cost me something.” Now he was more intrigued, listening aptly. “It stole normativity from me. I can’t enjoy things like dinner parties and card games anymore. It’s too boring.” Somehow, that delighted him. She craved his kingdom now, did she? Her eyes bore into his as she stated, firm and decisive, “I want to go back. Forever.”

As much as that prospect elated him, he felt it only his duty to warn her. “That is a bold claim,” he advised. “Forever is much longer than you think. Can I grant it to you? Yes,” he answered himself, as though pondering the thought. “But it may prove unpalatable to you in time. Are you quite certain you’re willing to endure such time?” he added, pushing her for absolute conviction.

He received it. Her eyes never flinched, never flickered, from his own. “Yes,” she answered again.

He lifted a hand, one of his small crystal balls sliding forward until it rested upon a fingertip, offering it. “A bargain,” he answered as she looked at it in question. “Your last chance to turn away. Take it, and take the dreams I once promised you,” he told her. “I will leave and you will live, content with the world within the glass.” Not a bluff—he was giving her every opportunity to escape this, before he simply took her back and kept her captive.

At the very least, he expected hesitation, but when his words left his lips, her eyes looked away from the glass. Already it would be showing her desires, yet it’d taken nothing for her to gaze back at him. “I don’t want it,” she answered him.

It was done, then.

He stepped closer, towering over her, the crystal slipping from his grasp only to disappear before touching the floor. Her eyes widened as he advanced upon her, but he made no further move. He merely needed a certain closeness for his powers to work. As he closed in, the world around them shifted as though the pages of a book had turned.

No longer were they surrounded by her peeling walls and rows of décor. Neither were they at the edges of his Labyrinth—she was not the hero, but rather the victim, and as such, he took her straight to his castle. Multitudes of goblins wandered about, pausing when they spotted Sarah only to hurry on when they spotted Jareth.

He inspired fear for good reason.

Towering arches made up windows all around them, with heavy wooden doors at four points in the room. She would not recognize this one, he mused; it was in a place she hadn’t explored, but more than that, he’d changed his castle since last she was here. That was another part of his rules: if he lost, the Labyrinth would alter itself, so when next the game was played, he would not know its twists and turns. When Sarah had won, it had changed.

It had not changed since.

For a moment, she glanced around, taking in the deep red drapes framing the windows, the lengthy but low-rise tables suited for his citizens, the tall and imposing fireplace in the center of the room. And then she wavered. Physically.

He caught her arm to steady her as she lifted a hand to her forehead. “Why do I feel so dizzy?” she demanded. “It wasn’t like this the first time.”

“The first time, you were playing a game,” he told her. “I shielded you from the effects of the realm while you were here. It would have been an unfair advantage,” he admitted, “were you weakened and dizzy during your adventure.”

Another rule, one he’d come to be thankful for. In the early days of his games, all of the “heroes” had been dizzy and clumsy as they attempted to spar with him in his games. It’d made the victory all too easy. So now, when the game was played, he shielded his opponent from the realm itself. At least until they left. Sarah was feeling the true Underground for the first time.

He let her. She would need to grow accustomed to this in the years to come.

As she took in his words, her eyes grew somewhat frenzied, gazing over at him with a measure of fear. “Will I become a goblin?”

A laugh exploded from him. He couldn’t help it. “Of course not!” he told her. “Not unless you chose to. You are an adult, remember? Only babes are indoctrinated.”

Now her eyes narrowed, though her focus was wavering. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean the air here demands complacency and obedience,” he answered her. “It’s so subtle that it changes people from the inside out. I am immune. You are resistant. Babes are not so lucky,” he explained. “In time you may feel the need to obey me as well. Resist it then as you always have,” he cooed, “and you will never change.”

She didn’t look very comforted by that. Then again, she was also struggling to stand now, the effects weighing on her. He slid an arm around her waist, anchoring her to him. He was granting her a mercy, the world shifting again as he willed a new room into existence, shaping it around specifications of her previous home.

Around them, objects appeared, furniture, trinkets, baubles, an entire bedroom taking form. She was the only one in his life to wish herself to his kingdom, and the only one he ever would have wanted to do so. And so he would pamper her, at least a bit. Everything his eyes passed over changed form under his gaze, until finally, it was settled.

The entryway led to a circular depression in the floor, three steps down, two thirds of the area taken up by an equally circular sofa. Further beyond was an additional sitting area, three towering bookshelves filled with everything that had once been in her apartment. A half-wall led from that room to the bedroom, no door, just parted curtains, sheer and layered in threes.

The bed itself was crafted from wood and marble and veined in gold, a handsome four-poster creation with grotesque faces peering out at the rest of the room—a touch he couldn’t have resisted if he’d tried. Dark blue velvet drapes circled that bed, a fringe at the top and dangling with yellow drop-shaped topazes. A tall and wide wardrobe stood in one corner, angled, filled to the brim with clothing based on his own fashion sense. A winged goblin stared out from over the top, carved into the wood. Beside the wardrobe was a large empty room, for whatever she would like to place within it.

Never let it be said he didn’t know how to indulge a woman.

Everywhere, he hung jewels with lights within them, his own crystal balls, objects of liquid which changed their shapes constantly in geometric ways. Trinkets, baubles, lights; it was very reminiscent of her previous decorations. He expected her to appreciate it all.

She slumped in his grasp.

Frowning now, he glanced down at her, unsure whether he should be offended that she chose to pass out before examining his work or thankful her body was already learning to work with the Underground. For that’s what this was: the faster she fell asleep, the harder her body was fighting its grasp. He hefted her up into his arms, deciding that, for at least the moment, he could let her rest.

He laid her out in the bed, slipped her sandals off, then stepped away. A wave of his hand and the drapes around the bed had slipped closed. He would give her time, he mused. And when she woke, then she would appreciate this room and the effort he’d put into it. His vanity demanded no less.

For the time being, though, he supposed he could arrange another surprise.
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Fair Sarah