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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
- 4
- 5
Fair Sarah

Four

　

Ohh, that fiend.

No longer did Sarah care about having him, the stuck-up little shit. If anything, she wanted to wring his neck, make him crawl on all fours and apologize for being. . .him. Such thoughts were pleasing, alleviating her indignation in increments. Despicable male!

Frustrated, she diverted her attention to examining her new room, every last detail. She even attempted to make a list of all the things about it she didn�t like, something to shove in his face later. . .but found, to her horror, that not a single thing was making the cut. The room and its objects were fantastic; she should have expected that of a who-knows-how-old omnipotent being. Aside from which, he wore incredible fashion, so how could he possibly not design his castle to the same rules?

Double-damn him, she sneered in her own mind, even as she softened to see that her own belongings were here. Not the junk from the trash goblin all those years ago, either —
she recognized every little detail of her own toys, her own aesthetically-pleasing knickknacks. She was familiar with the scars upon the spines of her favorite books, the scratches adorning her treasured glass figurines. They were all here.

She couldn�t help wondering: if he went through all this trouble to make her comfortable in the Underground, why had he followed that by pushing her aside? Posturing?

Possibly —
but she had the sneaking suspicion that something else was at play. Perhaps he already had a queen hidden somewhere and was remaining faithful? She doubted it. Maybe she should press him, though, just to be sure. Maybe that could be her game.

That thought gave her pause.

Games.

Jareth loved his games. So did Sarah. Her mind began rapidly working then, juggling ideas to see which stuck. Could she possibly make a game of their obviously mutual attraction? If so, how? And would he agree? If the payoff was tempting enough, then yes, she suspected he would agree. But that just led to even more questions —
what would he truly want, should he win a game?

She only knew of the Labyrinth itself and its own game: a child taken to become a goblin and its rescuer, bound by a time limit. The payoff, for Jareth, was a new goblin. Unfortunately Sarah couldn�t offer this; he�d told her that she couldn�t become a goblin.

A relief, that.

What else could she offer? A time limit of utter servitude? She doubted he would want that, either; thus far he seemed much more taken with her fire than her obedience.

Then came an unbidden suggestion, something spurred on by her lingering lusts: could she offer passion as a reward? The thought was tempting even to her. Their bodies, naked and twined and straining for mutual release, hot from exertion and crippling want. . . She shivered, forcing herself to discard the idea.

That reward should be hers, not his. And then she had the thought that it didn�t matter what she offered him upon victory; he wouldn�t be getting it. She would win, as she had before, and then she would have her victory. Ah, but what would that be? She was already living where she wanted to, with her best friends in the world. She doubted he would agree to anything which reduced him to her servant, too.

And then she had the most wicked thought. She caught herself grinning at that idea, holding it in with difficulty. It was so perfect —
now all she had to do was wait for him to return. He said he would; something about having things to discuss and blah blah blah.

That discussion will have to wait, since she expected his thoughts would be waylaid as soon as she proposed her ideas. . .
- - -
The Underworld, Sarah soon learned, had indeed changed. Looking out over the Labyrinth showed that while the general circular shape of its maze remained the same, the rest seemed unfamiliar. She was tempted to go down into the corridors and explore —
really, the only thing stopping her was her new plan. Though she did need to become somewhat knowledgeable about the Labyrinth itself, she couldn�t risk getting lost in there right now.

Though she soon found that �right now� was a subjective term; Jareth failed to return. Whatever he had done or wherever he had gone, not even her inquiries into his whereabouts yielded any results. None of the goblins knew where he�d gone or when he�d return (though she supposed he wouldn�t tell them much of his thoughts, if any at all). Point of fact, she grew so annoyed with his lack of presence that she chose to wander the castle, going every place she knew would be considered forbidden.

See how much he liked that. Leave her alone, would he? Well then, she�d entertain herself.

The first �forbidden� room she found was filled with crystal balls of various sizes. Her first thought was that this is where he got them all —
but further inspection suggested otherwise. When she held one up and gazed within it, she saw. . .illusions. Impossible things. Remembering his words about crystal balls containing dreams made her wonder if these were collected dreams.

Not only was this the first room she found, but it was the one she stayed inside to study its contents for hours. Each crystal showed different dreams, different things. And with time, she noticed a theme —
or, rather, that each one seemed to have a place or being within it. . .a place or being that matched something existing in the Labyrinth itself.

Did dreams fuel the Labyrinth? Or did they just give Jareth ideas, which he would later implement? Though she only managed to search through a small portion of them —
the room itself was like a dragon�s hoard, the room huge and so overflowing with crystals that she had to step around them —
a part of her was disappointed that she hadn�t found a crystal for her own dreams.

The implications behind this room and its contents disturbed her a bit. Maybe she was over-thinking it, but what if Jareth took dreams from people and kept them, hoarded them? What happened to the people whose dreams he had taken? Were they remnants of his goblins, before they had succumbed to the Underground�s charms?

So many questions. Her plan to waylay Jareth was, in turn, waylaid by her own concerns. �Sarah,� she sighed to herself, �what have you gotten yourself into?�

Sooner or later she would find out.

�I could ask you the same,� a warm, silky voice added from behind her.

A voice she could never mistake. This new discovery left her mind in disarray, unable to decide what she should talk about. For the moment, she turned to look at him, silent in her musings.

He was as regal as ever in his usual setup of tight bottom, loose top —
this time in dark red pants with knee-high riding boots, a white shirt with pillowy sleeves and gold trim around the neck on his upper body. A ring with a huge green oval gem was on his left index finger, the green seeming to swirl with yellow wisps, there and gone in the same second.

Meanwhile Sarah was in comfortable beige jean shorts and a blue t-shirt —
underdressed as ever in his presence. She�d found a set of barrettes and pins in her room, so she had her hair pinned back on one side with what she thought was a pair of gold barrettes adorned with sapphires. It was the only thing �regal� about her own appearance. . .for now.

When she remained in silence, she saw Jareth�s eyes narrow in suspicion. Whatever he was thinking, however, he kept to himself. �I fail to recall giving you permission to enter this room,� he said instead, conversationally —
as if he wasn�t at least irritated with her presence here. He started to circle her, disapproval radiating from him.

She wasn�t cowed. �Your memory is impeccable,� she returned smartly. She pivoted to keep him in sight, not quite giving him her back —
making a statement, as it were. �So, tell me —
when you offered me my dreams in a crystal,� she asked, �did the ball come from here, or would it have gone here?�

He looked away, perusing his trove of crystals. . .his collection of dreams. He picked up one of them, turning it over in his hands. �I would have kept yours separate, for a time,� he admitted. �Ask what you truly want to know, Sarah. . .be specific,� he added, giving her a look of mixed indulgence and irritation.

He didn�t like his privacy invaded, then? Noted. Fighting off a smirk, she began with, �Are these crystals dreams you�ve taken from people?�

�Yes,� was his simple response.

For a moment, his easy answer floored her. He noticed her shock, merely giving the slightest of smirks in reply. He was. . .serious, then? Offering dreams just meant he would take them? Why did that sound so. . .horrific?

Remembering that he�d once sent a series of crystals to her, each possessing something familiar, made her wonder if he had taken hers. So she asked, very specifically, �Are any of these mine?�

�Your what?� he returned smoothly, toying with her.

She glared at him for that, then recalled that everything was a game to him. Working with the rules (this time), she clarified, �Do any of these crystals possess my dreams?�

�Yes.�

That made her hesitate. Did she want to see them? Should she be scared of what they might hold? Would she even recognize them? Why didn�t he look chagrined, at least?! Ignoring all these questions, she instead asked, �What happens to people when you take their dreams?�

To this, Jareth tisked. �Oh, Sarah, your concern is touching,� he began, his voice mocking despite his words being complimentary. �Allow me to explain to you how this works.� The crystal he held was offered to her, practically against her nose. She refused to touch it, though she did look —
inside was a goblin she vaguely recognized, dancing in a forest, in the center of a fairy circle of mushrooms.

�Every year, mortals have thousands of dreams,� he told her, his voice dropping to become the most charming thing she�d ever heard. �And every year, all but a handful are forgotten. My goblins are my hands. They collect the interesting ones, the strange ones, the. . .distressing ones.� He set aside that crystal and selected another, holding it up for her.

This one. . .this one looked so familiar it had her reeling. As she tried to analyze it, he was still talking, explaining to her, �I do not keep all of them. Only the truly fascinating ones. I only possess two of yours, and this one was before we ever met. It has inspired great things in my Underground.�

A part of her resisted what she was seeing, because she was seeing the two-headed, four-armed pair of riddle guardians she�d encountered right before falling into the Oubliette. She had created them? Or, well, her dream had, at any rate. She couldn�t remember having that dream, though that only made sense. If he�d taken it, of course she wouldn�t be able to remember.

But it felt familiar. Add that to his words and there was no doubt.

The riddle guardians were her creation.

She took the crystal from him then, drawn in despite herself. It took several moments for her to realize she was just staring, that he had gone quiet, that she was ignoring him. It was hard, but she forced herself to look away from the scene —
the guardians had been swept aside to make way for Ambrosius, shocking her into realizing he�d been inspired by her own Merlin —
and back to the Goblin King.

�Be careful with that,� he advised, amusement clear upon him. �If you stare too deep, you will never come back.�

�I did once before,� she retorted, recalling the masquerade.

�That was a game, Sarah,� he cooed, tilting his head. �The clock was a gift, from me to you. A reminder of the game itself.�

At that, she felt strangely cold. She had the sudden realization that she hadn�t so much beaten him at his own game as he had given her numerous concessions he hadn�t needed to. That thought reminded her of her idea this morning, however, and it offered true victory for her. She would be able to hold her head high, look down upon him as she deserved.

She lowered the crystal, letting it drop carelessly from her fingers. Jareth clearly noticed the change in her demeanor as she took on an air of confidence and determination, even lifting her chin in a show of absolute defiance. �Would you like to play a game?� she offered.

At her words, a spark shone in his eyes. She had piqued his interest. Then, a moment later, it cooled, doubt coming to rest there. Arching a brow, he replied, �Do you truly believe you can play a game on equal grounds with me, Sarah?�

Patronizing, as always. She supposed an ancient being had every right to be; regardless, it still irritated her, as did his dismissive attitude.

�I believe,� she answered, using his own trademark purr, �that you will lose my game.�

Another spark lit up in those odd eyes, and this time it stuck. �Such confidence from such a young mortal,� he murmured. �What makes you think I have not already played every game? That I could not win every game?�

�I think I�m the first mortal to willingly come here and challenge you,� she answered with a growing smirk. �I think you have no idea what I�m planning. And I think you will lose.�

Slowly but surely, he was beginning to grin, pleased. �You have my absolute attention, fair Sarah. Explain your game, and I will decide if I will play.�

Just like that, she had him sniffing at her trap. She phrased herself carefully, however, to ensure he stepped inside it.

�It�s very simple,� she assured him. �For thirteen hours, I will be the Goblin King, and you will run the Labyrinth.�
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Fair Sarah