She wasn't entirely positive how or when she happened to land in this situation. The short sequence of events that had led up to their current affair were all tangled together, and were caught up in somewhat of a blur.

And she wasn't exactly certain when she realized it was him, fully acknowledged his presence. He was so close to her, and the proximity surged out certain intensity. Yet, for some reason, she found it familiar, unfrightening even. The way in which he had cornered her up against the wall, the way he angled his left arm above her, and the way that he was using his the rest of his person as a blockage to keep her put—had almost made her chortle with bubbling amusement.

The Goblin King had undeniably been an amusing opponent. Any interaction between them whatsoever, she privately noted, had been more or less—spirited, playful, in its own way.

He said her name softly then, coaxing her to look into the ice of his stare. Even now however, nothing had changed concerning their relations, not really. She did eventually lift her eyes to gaze upon his face, instead of studying the crescent-like medallion that hung low from his neck.

"Say it." Jareth demanded simply. The tone of his voice, direct and mature as it may have sounded, it was still very evident that he was running short on his regular amount of patience, which had been always lacking to begin with. But in fact, his actions back then, every move he planned against her success from few years ago, had merely proven that Jareth could be just as childish as she at times.

"Say what, exactly?"

"Submit to me. Admit that you made a mistake. Then confess you crave to have your deepest dreams, yet."

She cocked her head afterwards. The action was short and light, virtually resembling a little meadow mouse. This owl still was hung over this size of a meal? Still loathed the idea of her besting his hunt? There's no doubt there has been plenty of choices for him, a wider selection of objects worthy of his attention for him to prey, or to trample on. She knew he was born powerful, victory or no victory over him. But why did he personally insist on passing by bigger and better game?

This owl only wanted the mouse who had been too swift, too imaginative to flee his clutches.

"Say it," he snarled.

She would've presented empathy for him, or even would have been willing to give him a bite or two, just to spare him any more frustration, and self-destructive desperation. Moreover, she would have just about permitted herself to feel more flattered when recognizing that she was his most important and solitary goal. Though for the moment, she was in reality, feeling much too giddy and gleeful to meet him halfway.

A mild sneer formed across the Goblin's Kings features, noticing that particular glisten within her emerald eyes. She bit her lip, but unknownst to Jareth it was only to conceal, and choke down a small lighthearted laugh.

"Sarah—say I have power over you."

And that was her breaking point. She hadn't really intended on smiling then, in the way that she had. In the way as if she identified a cruel missing detail, in which he did not. It just happened beside her self-control and civility.

"I have power over you."

And the poor owl could try and try to surpass the mouse, but nevertheless, his long-awaited catch once again, slipped and freely scampered between and over his closing talons. She was not meant to be underestimated. Ever.

(Just something I came up while on the road to my cabin. It's meant to have a lighter, humorous mood compared to most of my other short stories. I love Labyrinth. I've watched it probably close to 80 times throughout my life, lol. And I personally, don't see Sarah as the submissive and traditional type, no matter how Brian Froud and the rightful co. decided to portray her in Return to Labyrinth. She has a strong will that no one can shatter.)