A/N: Hello all. This story is a bit of a self-indulgence. I am the type of woman who likes to see what the man really thinks about the leading lady in my stories. Although I have found a few fan fics from Jareth's POV, I wanted more. Yes, it's nice to hear what a sexy beast Jareth is, but I like to imagine that he has wonderful thoughts about Sarah...can't we all dream that a man is thinking about us that way? Especially one who is powerful and mysterious? (Not saying that I am anything at all like Sarah...I just like the idea of his thoughts) So, like I said...self-indulgence :-D.

This is my first time trying to write a character that someone else created so, please bear with me. I have read other peoples' fan fics, but I have never researched the books and other information on the Underground and Labyrinth like so many others have seemed to. This comes almost entirely from my imagination based off the movie.

Each chapter will start off with a quote from the movie that will be a "theme" for that particular chapter. Although this prologue is done in essay form, this will be the only chapter where there is no talking. I hope you enjoy it! Oh...and reviews are much appreciated! :-D

.

.

.

**But what no one knew is that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had given her certain powers.**

.

.

It wasn't her smile that first attracted me, though the mixture of innocence and intelligence portrayed on her lips was a sight to behold. And it wasn't her eyes, which changed with her mood from a sea green, almost cerulean shade when she was sad, to the dark green of a deep forest when she was thoughtful, to fiery emeralds when she was angry. No, although these two features in her face captivate me still today, it was the way she twirled in the sunlight, letting the cares of the world leave for a moment to simply be, that first garnered my attention.

I would come to the Aboveground to search for her often. At first it was merely curiosity. She was so different than the other girls her age, and I wanted to understand why that was. Most of the young ladies I had witnessed walked in groups—they did not want to seem outside the norm. Their discussions ranged on topic from the latest fashion to the latest celebrity crush, with only superficial dipping into more intelligent conversation. In short, they were boring and predictable.

This girl, however, preferred to walk alone; to spend the day with her imaginary friends, rather than engage in the latest gossip. Although she spent much time by herself, it wasn't from a lack of social etiquette. She knew how to communicate efficiently with her peers, and she was often sought after for companionship, from both males and females. Yet time and time again I watched her come up with excuses as to why she couldn't make this date or that. Instead, she would head to her favorite park, sit on her favorite bench, and act out her favorite stories; preferring to live in the world of make believe.

Of course, she was never allowed to live long within the trails of her imagination. She seemed to live by the clock; the hours spent between responsibilities were carefree and she would glow with relaxation. But then the clock would gong--breaking her from her fantasies--and the glow would fall from her face, leaving me heartbroken.

The need for an adventure was strong within the gentle body of the fifteen year old girl. She was on the verge of adulthood; one foot in the world of make-believe, the other attempting the step over into the bonds of "real-life". She no longer wanted to be treated as a child, but she had yet to learn the simplest fact of life: that it is not always fair. I often heard her utter words in complaint of the cruelty of life and how she was being treated unfairly as she ran to fulfill her teenage duties. It was the most childish aspect about her.

Eventually, my observations grew more and more detailed. She would pile her long, glistening black hair on the top of her head, tendrils falling out of place as she moved and swayed to her adventures, but remove the clip and let her hair cascade down her back when she was ready to head back to the real world. I could tell by the slight curve in the corner of her mouth whether she felt angry, melancholy, or content. And strangely enough, my moods began to shift with hers. When she was sad, my heart ached. When she was happy, I was enraptured. When she was angry, I sought revenge.

It was that last emotion that allowed me to realize that I no longer thought of her as a child, but as my future. When I looked at her, I no longer saw the woman-child that she was, but instead I saw the strong-willed, intelligent woman that she would become. I had fallen in love with her. And I desired to be with her always.

I was willing to wait—although I was not oblivious to her natural beauty, I knew that she was not yet mature enough for a romantic relationship with a full-grown adult. But I still desired to be part of her life, to fulfill her dreams. I followed her in my owl form, and more of my heart was given to her. And as my love grew, so did her power over me and over my kingdom. She did not know it, but whenever she was ready, she could call upon me and I would give her the adventure she had long desired.

All she had to do was wish…