Disclaimer

Labyrinth and the characters of Jareth and Sarah© Jim Henson

All goblin information I use is drawn from Brian Froud and Terry Jones's book 'The Goblins of Labyrinth'

However Artistic Licence has also been employed in order to fit the story's needs.

And finally, All original ideas belong to me.

This fanfic is dedicated to Alannah. Who helped me greatly in editing and bringing this fanfiction to it's full potential. I only hope my writing will do you justice.

Chapter the start

The images that flicked over Jareth's crystal were fast and boring. The pictures blurred past quickly, allowing only a few words of the conversations which were taking place beyond his walls to spill into his ears. Nothing they had to say was ever interesting. Just drool. Goblins chased about him picking on chickens, drinking away what few brain cells they had left and laughing, always laughing. Perhaps cackling was a better word for it.

"Why did you marry her!"

"Sarah,"

"No! Don't do that. I hate her, hater her. All she does is take care of Toby, as if I wasn't good enough for her,"

"That's not how it is, Irene likes you. She just wishes you would talk to her,"

"Oh that's right, just take her side. It's not like I'm your daughter or anything!"

A young girl ran up the staircase of a medium sized home and disappeared to the left. Sarah as he had over heard, was running away from an older male. Presumably her father. Another teen disagreeing with an authority figure, nothing eye catching there.

Jareth slid the crystal into his opposite palm and leisurely bid it disappear, which it did seamlessly. His leather boots thudded as he rose from his window seat in the goblin crowded foyer, stepping on a pair of feet as he did so. He raised his voice above all the frivolity and commanded silence. Of course, these were stupid, repulsive goblins he was ordering about, and as always, one of them was idiotic enough not to listen.

"Loch!"

The goblin stopped and looked directly at Jareth for a moment, then hurriedly began looking side-to-side; frantically hopping it was someone else the king was demanding.

"That means you," Jareth said, His voice sounded exasperated and bothered. He was annoyed at how slow it was taking this goblin to realise Jareth was talking to him and not someone else. The fact that Loch was still fidgeting about only provoked him more.

"Y-yes, your majesty?" The goblin's voice was scratchy and high pitched, almost whiny. Loch seemed to realise he was not going to enjoy whatever it was that lord Jareth was about to say, and his stature instantly became apologetic. Cowardly in Jareth's eyes.

"Oh Loch, It seems that you've made me angry. You know how I hate being angry don't you,"

Loch opened his mouth to say something in reply, but beneath his feet a large door opened up from which a fowl stench rose, and Loch slid away to the bog of eternal stench.

"With that done, I think we should celebrate,"

Cheers erupted, and the goblins now surged forward and fought one another to reach the front of the keg. It did not surprise Jareth at all how little they cared for the banished goblin.

Celebrating was not much different to what they normally did, but having their king approve their behaviour was what made celebrations different. Of course, Jareth didn't really care. But if he let them believe he did, it made them feel as if he was a decent lord as opposed to the subject abusive ruler he was. Throwing a celebration meant none of them would object to fetching him a drink for the next two months, as they often did when their respect for him waned. But respect wasn't what Jareth cared for. Being able to call himself king was all that mattered, and he didn't care weather it was over a city of do-good faeries or an army of brain dead goblins. He had his title, regardless of others objection to it, not that he heeded them anyway, and he would hold this title forever. Everything was in the name.

Jareth woke at noon. The night had been filled with much dull fun for the goblins. He had been forced to judge almost every contest, debate in an argument about the liberation of horseshoes (it seemed not even a several hundred year lasting war could solve that), and watch badly acted plays while avoiding the Skoat. Goblins were already up fighting for Grit Cake and ale when he began heading towards the main room, not affected at all, by how early it was. Not that they would be, nothing in his Labyrinth required sleep, not even himself. Nevertheless, sleep was all there was to fill the time with. His goblins never grew bord as he did, and he sometimes found himself resenting them for it. Then he was reminded that was only caused because they were too stupid to remember most things. Meaning most goblins spent their day discovering things they already knew.

The crystal Jareth had sent away yesterday was now in the crook of his throne when he entered, he had wished it there so that he might look outside. For a change in scenery, he took it with him into the room of stairs, inspired by a painting he had seen through the crystal. The artist was either M.C Escher or M.C Hammer. He did not trifle himself with remembering. He had created the room on a whim to bend his labyrinth in ways he had not (for he had never created a room with more than one gravity before) and it was to that room that he now placed himself. Goblins didn't come here for they lacked the ability to change with each new pulling force, and just looking at the room gave even the smartest of them a permeant headache.

The crystal took its place on the tip of his index finger, and scenes began imparting their reflexion into the clear surface. He watched, a child being told fairies didn't exit, before jumping to a high school play still in its rehearsal stage. It was that cursed play about Tatiana and her ostentatious husband Oberon. From there he let it skim, just picking up words and sounds as he did most days, hopping he would find something at last. But like most days, the result was pointless leaving only option B. Recycle in his mind, the images that had seemed boring to him yesterday and see if something had come of them today. He went back to were he had seen some protesters hugging trees. The trees were gone, which meant another herd of fairies would be trying to make a home among his front gate. He pondered if the dwarf he had put in place for the very purpose of getting rid of them was well equipped.

Then he came back to Sarah. The brunette was standing in front of a mirror, holding a small volume of papers bound with staples. She was looking at her reflection and speaking to it in what she must have thought was a passionate manner. To Jareth, it was just poor acting slightly above what his goblins had accomplished last night.

"Please, stop! No, wait! … Please let me try the slipper on, I am after all and eligible lady of this estate as well step mother…, "Sarah's face fell from its 'acting face' it was still very weak as far as Jareth could see. She looked down at the booklet in her hand and read the last few lines in a normal tone.

"And so, Cinderella and the prince lived happily ever after and the wicked step mother lived alone with her two step daughters for the rest of their days-," she continued mumbling to herself, but Jareth was far to appalled to care for whatever else she had to say.

"What was she babbling about?" He said aloud. "Some girl marries a prince and all her dreams come true?" Jareth was caught between laughter and sheer dumb shock. His mocking was cut short when he heard a male voice call out to Sarah inside the crystal; he peered back at it, seeing if someone would come into the room.

"I'll be there in a minute," Sarah responded to her father's call. When he didn't immediately walk in. She put down the script and pulled open her door with more force than was needed, mumbling about being interrupted as she went to see why she had been called. The book manuscript was left open on her bed. Jareth peered more sternly into his crystal, attempting to read what was written down, but found himself unable to.

The crystal was only visible for a second as it rolled down Jareth's fingers, before it completely vanished, replaced by the manuscript Sarah had been reading. It lay where the crystal has been; open at the page Sarah had left it.

Jareth closed the cover, reading the front in its entirety. 'Cinderella. CAST: Cinderella, Ugly stepsister 1, Ugly stepsister 2, Step Mother, Fairy Godmother, Prince Charming. The King, Town Cryer, Prince's Adviser, Woman at Ball 1, Woman at Ball 2, Coachmen…'

The name 'Cinderella' in the cast box, had been circled in red pen, and all of her lines were highlighted in pink throughout the book. Obviously this was the part Sarah wanted. Jareth walked out the stair room, taking his time reading the script and crossing his leg over the arm of his chair to read, goblins still managed to interrupt him, but most of them learnt his Majesty was not to be disturbed after he sent three or seven goblins flying out the window. He couldn't remember quite how many.

The play was simple, and lacking in a Meta plot. This, Cinderella, was bullied by her superiors and wanted one night to have fun at a ball. A fairy decidedly came along and helped her, which was certainly something Jareth had never seen a faerie do, and she ended up going to the ball and falling for the prince. Fortunately, the fairies spell had a catch to it, and Cinderella had to be home before Midnight. On her way home however, she dropped a shoe. Prince charming decided to find this 'amazing' girl and took the dropped shoe to every girl in his country in the hopes that he can find his magnificent princess based on shoe size.

And so, Cinderella and the prince lived happily ever after and the wicked stepmother lived alone with her two stepdaughters for the rest of their days.

Jareth closed the book, looking at it with a perplexed expression. It was, to say the least….the most basic and effortless plot he had ever read and really only left the reader with the impression Fairies would help you. Sarah could keep her delusions and…badly written scripts all to herself. Jareth picked up his crystal, which he had called for out of nowhere of course, and once again used it to look in on his 'budding actress' of sorts.

"TOBY! Toby has taken my script!" Sarah boomed at the top of her voice.

"Sarah, how can Toby take it he's just a baby," Irene said, trying to point out reason.

"Well I don't know. The same way he took my book that's how,"

"I took the book Sarah-" Irene started, only to see Sarah's face was flushed with red anger. Irene suddenly felt just as red with embarrassed. "You're a young adult now. You shouldn't be reading fairy tale stories anymore. I thought Toby might like them,"

Sarah felt she could burn up with the amount of anger that sped through her. How dare her stepmother come into her room, ever! She turned her back on Irene and stomped to her room, only to hear Irene telling her to check her room again in case she had put it somewhere. The nerve of that woman.

Jareth watched the scene from the safe comfort of his castle. If Sarah knew he had taken it, he could just see her throwing something at him. His laugh echoed through the room, making even some of the busiest goblins stop to watch. He hadn't felt so relieved of his boredom in such a very long time. So much fuse over just a few scraps of paper. It was unexpected how much exuberance seeing them fight brought about, not because they were fighting, but because it was he who had brought it about. Their ignorance to what was truly occurring about them was staggering.