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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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Fair Sarah

Two

She was dreaming.

After her bout in the Underworld and all the dreams she’d had about it since, Sarah had learned the difference. While the Labyrinth itself certainly had dreamlike qualities, she had been able to pinpoint the inconsistencies. For example, she knew what Hoggle would and would never do, and he would never enter the castle again, even for her. She knew there was no room like this in existence, the sunlight peeking through drapes around a truly wondrous bed. She knew the crystals, gems and odd floating lights decorating the ceiling could not actually be there.

Even the Underground had its own rules. And not even Jareth could change them—not that he would, not for her.

So as she strode from the curtained bed, eyes looking everywhere at once, and found a circular sofa you had to step down to reach, occupied by her three best friends in the world—well, Underworld, as it were—and the Goblin King himself, she knew she was dreaming. And perhaps “occupied” was the wrong word. Ludo was on one side, so large he took up a third of the cushioned seats. Hoggle was beside him, so short his feet dangled off the floor—the sofa was sized for her, she realized. Didymus was on the back instead of the seat, perched between Ludo and Hoggle, Ambrosius laying on the floor.

Jareth was. . .lounging, relaxed, but as far from the others as he could be. As if being in their presence was distasteful to him. Though she was behind the couch itself, they were so far apart that they all saw her coming. Jareth was first, murmuring a greeting even as he turned his eyes to her.

It was a dream, she confirmed, because she saw desire flare in those odd-eyes. That wasn’t like Jareth at all. And was there hope there, as well? What could he be hoping for? Her eyes left him to eat up the sight of her friends, starting to smile. She’d missed them—hadn’t called them for a visit in years. After a little while, she’d had to be careful about it, because she couldn’t explain how a party had occurred when no visitors had come or left the house. Later, she couldn’t because she lived in an apartment.

Someone would have noticed.

She didn’t bother with going around to the front of the sofa, but instead stepped onto it from behind, plopping down in the center. “Hi guys,” she said, truly pleased to gaze upon them again.

Some would peer at them and shriek, seeing monsters. She saw caring, loving individuals, strong hearts beneath hideous exteriors. And she truly loved them.

To her left, Jareth spoke up even as her friends all gushed over her. “I summoned them here,” he was saying, his voice as lulling and seductive as it’d ever been. Having to speak with him yesterday—while she was awake—had been a chore. She’d wanted to just throw herself in his arms and. . .maybe dance? She hadn’t really had a plan. “A gift,” he explained.

She smiled at him, too; it was a dream, so why not? “I appreciate it,” she answered. “Thank you.” And though she knew the dream had created this room, she added, “And this room, too. . ?” with a gesture around.

He nodded, beginning to smirk. “Another gift,” he agreed. Then he began tapping his chin in thought. “Though I don’t think I should give you another. Fair is fair, as I’m sure you’ll agree, and it’s only fair you gift me something in return.”

For a moment, she considered paying him in kisses. What would he do then, she wondered? And, Hell, it was a dream, so why not?

A tempting thought.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hoggle spoke up, interrupting her thoughts. She focused back on him. “He just wants you feeling indebted to him.” He patted her wrist.

“She is indebted to me,” Jareth countered.

“She,” Sarah retorted with a scathing—yet smug—glance sent the king’s way, “already gifted His Grace with the almighty presence of herself. If anything, he is still indebted to her.”

Her spirit had Hoggle sputtering, Ludo a bit confused by her words and Didymus chortling. Jareth’s eyes merely alighted, as though amused and intrigued in one.

“I must be quite the masochist,” Jareth was saying now, his amusement spilling forth and conjuring a smile, “for I find myself thoroughly enjoying that which I should not: your defiance.”

In return, she lifted her chin, shameless and stubborn, giving a shake of her lengthy raven locks to toss them over her shoulders. His smile widened, becoming a grin.

“Yours thanks will have to do, for the time being,” he began as he rose to his feet. He summoned two crystals in his hands and began toying with them, playing, as he strode away from her. “Call me again when your reunion is done. We have much to discuss.” And then he stepped through her open door, closing it behind him without touching it.

As if he’d taken the tension with him upon his departure, Hoggle sighed, Ludo relaxed and Ambrosius sat up, leaping onto the sofa on Sarah’s other side. She leaned back in her seat, suddenly not so sure that this was a dream. After all, she hadn’t wanted Jareth to leave—so why had he, unless he was real, this was real, and he’d made his own decisions?

She paled a bit as the weight of that hit her. He really had, then? He’d given her this room, brought her friends here to visit, even accepted her rude comments? She’d thought the real Jareth would have punished her for the snide remark, but he’d still merely looked amused by her. Her eyes slid to Hoggle to ask, very carefully, “Am I dreaming right now?”

His brows inched together in response. “No,” he answered, sounding as confused as she felt. Then understanding dawned and his eyes widened. “Did you backtalk the king because you thought you were dreaming?” he demanded, aghast. After a moment, she nodded. Hoggle groaned. “I hope his good humor remains, then,” he grumbled to no one.

She blushed, heat rising in her cheeks. Not in embarrassment—she wasn’t worried about that—but in sudden shame for what she’d said. What she’d almost done. She could have angered Jareth, she realized, could have made him strip this gorgeous room from her, could have made him decide to torment her friends in revenge. And he would do such a thing if it struck his fancy, she knew. One did not become the Goblin King by being kind, after all.

“I’m sorry,” she said to the three of them. “I’ll apologize to him later, too.” Just thinking about it, she grimaced. Oh, that would go over splendidly.

But that would be later, she agreed with herself. For now, she chose to enjoy herself. Might as well take what had been given, she reasoned. The next three hours were spent reminiscing, catching up and swapping stories. During that time, breakfast—lunch, really—had been delivered, a short, maid-like goblin wheeling a cart into the room. She grumbled angrily and hissed when anything at all was said to her, but left easy enough. The cart had been loaded down with various foods, and though Sarah thought it was a bit much at first, Ludo helped finish everything off. He didn’t even look full, she noted.

Hoggle, she learned, was still employed by the king to spray fairies at the entrance of the Labyrinth. He’d taken up writing, as well, and wrote something to display his penmanship. It was beautiful, she noted, and she heartily approved. Hoggle had blushed at that.

Ludo, unsure what to do with his life, had chosen to take up residence with Hoggle. He decorated, mostly, with his rocks. He also gathered the fairies and had begun making little homes for them so they would stay away from the gates. Though they bit on occasion, Ludo was unaffected by it.

Sir Didymus remained ever the champion, disillusioned about himself but valiant besides. He no longer had a bridge—he mentioned something about the Labyrinth having changed—so instead he wandered, a kind of wandering knight, solving troubles where he encountered them in the most righteous ways possible.

All three, she found, had been so drastically changed by her that they now aided any players who had wished a baby away or challenged the king. This Jareth allowed, claiming it was “fair enough” and few would win besides. Only two humans had since attempted to solve the Labyrinth but neither had won. Sarah remained the most recent—and, sort of, reigning—champion.

Once those three hours had passed, the lot of them were exhausted from laughing and playing and being stuffed full of various foods. It was only then that Sarah remembered the warning about the Underground’s air and realized she wasn’t feeling drowsy anymore. Resist it as you always have, Jareth had told her, and you will never change. She must still be resisting, she realized, without even conscious thought awarded to it.

Her eyes passed over her friends then. Did they feel it? Did they resist it? Or were they already lost to its sway? She had to assume, since they were already goblins, that they had been lost. But perhaps it wasn’t permanent, she mused. They had helped her, fought the king with her—fought against obedience. Perhaps they still fought.

But she wouldn’t bring it up. If they didn’t know, she wouldn’t tell them so. She wouldn’t cause them distress.

By now, Sarah had brought her legs up on the sofa. She peered down at her toes, solemn, as she thought about the future. She wasn’t a goblin. Did that mean she didn’t have free roam? Jareth hadn’t taken her to Hoggle, after all, when he very well could have. He’d given her a room in the castle. She’d been a fool if she tried to turn it down, but more so, this hinted he wanted her here, where he could reach her easily. For the first time, she felt uncertainty at the prospect.

And now she wondered if her friends visiting was a one-time deal.

She asked aloud, without looking up from her toes, “Are you allowed to visit anytime?” Silently, she added, Am I allowed to visit anytime? She would have to hammer out the details with Jareth when she saw him next.

Silence was her answer, from all four. Not even Ambrosius made a sound. No one knew, then, she realized. And it brought down their collective mood several pegs.

Finally, Ludo said, “Will visit, lots.”

A small smile turned her lips. It grew further when Hoggle patted her wrist again, adding, “We’ll work it out. Anytime you need us. . .”

“I’ll call,” she finished, giving them all a watery smile. Oh, she loved these three—four, she added with a ruffle of Ambrosius’ ears, so much alike her departed Merlin.

Over the next few minutes, escorts arrived to see the group out. Jareth must have been watching, she realized. Annoyance filtered through at that thought. As she waved goodbye to her friends, though, she decided she wouldn’t call him just yet. She hadn’t explored yet, after all. So she rose and began looking around in greater detail.

Oh, this room was gorgeous. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was, she realized. Jareth was old—according to her book, thousands of years old. Of course he’d have developed a serious fashion sense in that time. It just hadn’t seemed so, she thought, because the rest of the Labyrinth was so. . .run-down. So fixer-upper. Even if it had changed, as Didymus mentioned, it couldn’t have changed much. There were no caretakers, so debris and dust had been everywhere.

She’d needed a hell of a shower to get all the grime off, after she’d won.

But this, she noted, taking in one stunning detail after another, this was well-kept. New, perhaps? She couldn’t imagine Jareth just had such a room lying around. And if he could change the entire Labyrinth on a whim, what’s to say he couldn’t will another room into being whenever he chose?

What touched her more than anything, though, was when she started to recognize things. Her toys, her books, her varied trinkets she liked for the aesthetic value and nothing more. He’d brought them? Or had he copied them? She knew he could—she had distinct memories of a junkyard lady giving her mimicked crap in the likeness of her own items—but had he? She would have to ask him, she decided.

“Fully awake now, are we?”

She whipped around, breaking out of her trance. There stood Jareth—not that she was surprised—a good distance from her, watching her. His appearance hadn’t changed much. Neither had his fashion sense, she mused, looking him over again. Yesterday he’d been donned in blacks, tight pants and tall books and belted leathers. Today he was in light blues, his shirt ruffled and partway opened, his pants a deeper velvet, gloves and boots as black as always.

“Yes,” she answered, trying not to ogle. He was such an alluring being—which he had to know. And she wouldn’t be caught staring, stroking his ego even further. He liked her defiance? Then she would defy. But first. . . “I have to ask. Why did you do all this?” she wondered, empty hands gesturing the whole of the room.

“A gift, as I said,” he answered, striding over to a column and running his finger over it as though checking the dust. “I believe you’ve earned a treat or two.” He smirked as he looked back to her again. “For the gift of your magnanimous self, of course,” he purred.

And she blushed. She scratched at her ear, nervous. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” she began, shocking herself with how quick she was to verbally bow, “but I was honestly expecting you to just. . .dump me with Hoggle. Or perhaps not even that much.” He could have dropped her in the Bog of Eternal Stench.

She would never be able to fully express her gratitude that he hadn’t done so. That bog was truly the worst thing in existence.

“And what would give you that idea?” he wondered, his graceful steps bringing him closer to her. Into her personal space, even; he gazed down at her with muted curiosity.

The effort was made to stop her cheeks from burning any further. She donned an air of confidence, even as she replied, “Well, I can’t imagine you were too pleased with me. I did, after all, kick your sorry arse at your own game.”

A subtle lift of his brows, a sparkle of amusement, a shift of those lips as he replied, “You gave me exactly what I wanted, Sarah.”

That voice should be illegal, she decided then, because it sent her pulse hammering. He was tempting her, and mercy above, she was liking it. No man had ever thrilled her the way he did.

Suddenly she had a desire to make him feel the same. Voice silky and promising, she returned in a murmur, “And what was that, Your Grace?” She couldn’t help the tease. She couldn’t.

To her surprise, his eyes seemed to darken, the pupils widening until both looked brown. “That is my secret to keep,” he replied. Then he stepped back, breaking the spell she’d been under. He took his heat with him, she realized, and she shivered at the sudden draft.

She wanted more. And by now, she couldn’t help it. She wanted more, and by whichever gods existed, she would have it. She followed him. Mercy above, she was demanding as she replied, “Well, if I gave you what you wanted, then it’s only fair you return the favor.”

More desire pooled in those odd-eyes of his, darkening further. “I brought you here, did I not?” he returned, smooth, yet she could tell he was trying to convince himself of this. “I gave you what you wanted.”

“You played by your own rules,” she countered. “I wished myself here. I gave myself what I wanted.” Still he retreated, still she advanced. A kind of power infused her, realizing that she was driving him back. The last time she’d done this, it was because she’d spoken certain words. She tried to do so now. “Now I’m demanding,” she found herself saying, as he bumped into the half-wall and was forced to halt. “I want you.”

Oh, sweet Heaven, she’d said that. She’d demanded that—him! But the words were spoken.

His eyes went totally black then. “Be careful with your words, Sarah,” he warned. “They cannot be undone.”

“What’s said is said,” she retorted smartly, parroting some of the first words he’d spoken to her. She stepped right up to him, against him, charmed despite herself by the dramatic makeup he liked to employ. His hands lifted to her sides, even as her own trailed up to his neck, stroking his skin.

His eyes dropped to her mouth. “So it has,” he agreed.
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Fair Sarah