Obligatory Disclaimer: None of the characters that appear in the movie, or places located in the Labyrinth, belong to me. Ellen is as much of an OC as you believe she is.

AN: This came about from paying attention to the dialog in the movie ("Take this child of mine far away from me!"), and frustration at all of the decent Labyrinth fanfiction all being Jareth/Sarah and several other things I ramble about in my lj. I have no idea whether this will be continued or not. I might just leave it where it stands.

Warning: Unbeta'd.

"Is the story true?" Sarah asked suddenly.

"Is what story true?" her mirror asked waspishly.

Sarah suppressed a smile and held up the small red book, worn from the number of times she'd read it. The Labyrinth. "Is it true? About the girl?"

Jareth sighed. "It was a very long time ago, Sarah," he said.

"Do you mean to tell me that the Goblin King has a less-than-perfect memory?" she teased.

He frowned at her. "I liked you better when you were fourteen. You were afraid of me then."

"Six years makes a world of difference. I know all of your little secrets now. Well, almost all of them," she corrected herself. "So, who was she?"

"None of your concern." He abruptly vanished from the mirror, leaving her staring only at her own reflection.

...the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl. Sarah smacked herself in the forehead. "You really stepped in it this time," she told herself. She peered hopefully into the mirror, but no more faces from the Labyrinth looked back at her. Alone once more.

It was late anyway, she realized when she glanced at her clock. Sarah put away the play she'd been reading before Jareth had appeared, then turned off the light and climbed into bed. "G'night, everybody," she murmured sleepily, not surprised when there was no response. He's probably really upset with me, she thought as she drifted into sleep.

She awoke the next morning to the amusing spectacle of Jareth, King of the Goblins, Lord of the Labyrinth, cooking breakfast in her apartment's tiny kitchen. He expertly flipped the pancake onto a plate that already held two others, then plonked it onto the table next to the butter and syrup and glass of orange juice. "Sit," he ordered, pushing a chair in front of the plate.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked. The table was only set for one.

"The sun has been up for several hours, Sarah, as have I. I have already broken my fast," he told her, taking the other chair.

She shrugged and sat, drizzled syrup over the pancakes before she picked up her fork. "About last night," she said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to harp on a touchy subject."

"Apology accepted."

She suspected that it wasn't nearly that simple, but his previous reaction left her disinclined to press further. Instead, she ate several bites of his pancakes. They were really quite good, and she looked up to tell him so – and found his mismatched eyes focused unblinkingly on her. "Is there something on my face?" she asked, unnerved.

He steepled his fingers. "I will tell this to you one time only," he said. "Afterwards, we will never speak about it again. You will not discuss it with any of your friends, inside the Labyrinth or out of it. Am I clear?"

She blinked at him. "What?"

He raised a brow at her. "You did ask me a question last night," he reminded her.

"You don't have to-"

"I want to." Even he looked surprised at that admission. Swiftly recovering, he folded his hands on the table and took a deep breath. "So, am I clear?"

"Well, if you insist." As if she wasn't dying of curiosity at this unexpected offer. She moved her hand in a 'the table is yours' gesture. "Yes, you are crystal clear," she added, seeing his eyes narrow. "No talking once you're done."

"Good." He stole her glass, took a sip of the juice. "You have to understand, the Labyrinth was not always as you found it. In my youth, it was a beautiful place, not decaying as it is now, though just as dangerous to mortals. Maybe even more so, then, when it was at its prime. Nor were the goblins always so..."

"Filthy?"

He chuckled. "Yes, I suppose 'filthy' would be a good way to put it. Once, they looked as I do. You remember our dance?"

She nodded slowly. "The other dancers? I thought they were faeries, or something."

He shook his head. "Goblins, all. You were the only one in the room that was not. That, however, was just a memory. I am the only one left as I was."

"I'm sorry." She started to reach out, then aborted the gesture.

The movement hadn't gone unnoticed. His eyes sparkled dangerously at her. "Don't be. I'm the one that did it to them."

This had a point, surely. "For her?" she guessed.

"Because of her. Ellen." His eyes turned distant. "Lovely, as the story says, though it leaves out the more charming aspects of her personality. You could almost be her mirror, you look so much like her. It was love at first sight, for both of us." Focusing on Sarah again, a mirthless smile appeared on his face. "That little book of yours does get several points wrong. Ellen's parents were both living, and while she had several younger siblings, none of them were what you might call spoiled. Or babies," he added. "The youngest was seven."

"Who did she wish away, then?"

Jareth tilted his head to the side, watching her reaction closely. "Our son."