Author's Note: Yeah, these chapters are getting longer and longer each time I write them. Which is a good thing, I guess. Lots of detail and stuff. Yay. And, yes, I know that I wanted to have this updated sooner but, guess what, I did work on this story – I actually wrote the last two chapter, and I'm sure that you will either all hate me or all be extremely pleased. However, there's still a good 8 or 9 chapters to go until then. For now, here's chapter four. Read, review… you know, the usual ;) And, happy New Year. May 2007 be swell and full of Labyrinth love.

Disclaimer: These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film Labyrinth, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author.

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Fourteen

You may think you know about what happened after those 13 hours.
You don't.

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PART FOUR
Look at me, and tell me who I am, why I am, what I am…
Will I survive?
Who will give a damn, if no one knows who I am?

--

The room that Jareth conjured was far enough from his bedchambers that the girl, when she awoke, would not feel threatened but close enough that the Goblin King would sleep soundly knowing that, finally, she was near; that, after all the scrying and spying he had done, she was his. It was a small room – only a bit larger than her old room Aboveground – but he did not want to overwhelm her. When the goblin magick wore off, she would be disoriented. Add that to her predictable reaction to learning that she had been reclaimed as the King's prize, and Jareth wanted to set things as familiar for her as he could.

That did not mean that he went so far as to bring Sarah's belongings into the Underground with her. Much of her clothing and her toys were far too old – secondhand and ill cared for – and had no place in the castle. She would have no need for her books or any of her wardrobe; if she desired anything, anything at all, all she had to do was ask him. He would be more than willing to conjure it for her.

It was a strange shaped room, a squashed square with one angle the jutted outwards onto one of the towers. He had seen Sarah sitting at her window more times than he could count and knew that the girl would appreciate the view into the hidden garden of the great maze. He even set up a banister with which she could lean and relax. Quite generous, really.

Jareth kept the room bare – he would fill it when he had both the energy to expend and the designs of Sarah's want – but for the giant bed in the center and the handcrafted (by the dwarf artisans of a neighboring kingdom) wooden dresser that he had sat by her bed. Atop her dresser, he left two gifts from her old life: the dog-eared old copy of her red book and the music box that, even though it was silent, he could already hear the faint notes of Greensleeves. He adored that sound. Along with the scent of vanilla and lilies, the simple tinkling of that song reminded him solely of the mortal girl; such was his selfish reason of bringing along the trinket. Everything else would vanish into nonexistence once Sarah had submitted as if the girl had never been.

He covered the large bed with silk suited for Sarah's gentle flesh before setting her down upon it. The pillow was wide and filled with the feathers of thirteen swans; her head settled in the center of the cloth, barely making a mark against it. Her long hair, dark and wild in the candlelit room, was splayed out against the bed, causing a sharp contrast against the whiteness of the bed and the whiteness of her face.

There was a calmness that resided over her facial features save for her brow; the faint creases that marred the flesh were the only indications that the girl was not sleeping as peacefully as one would think. Her chest was slowly rising and falling, the worn fabric of her faded nightgown following along with the motion.

Jareth, who had transported himself instantly to Sarah's bedside once the bedside had been created, watched with an unblinking eye as she slumbered. He had not covered her body with any sort of blanket – it was purposely warm in this room and, besides, he did not want to deprive himself of such a sight – and, as he spied, he felt that the nightgown she had donned before falling asleep was unworthy of being pressed against her skin. With a simple wave of his hand, he conjured a glamour crystal and, much like he had done when he dressed Sarah for her Masquerade Ball, he sent it gently in her direction.

The transparent orb wafted over her sleeping form, sending sparkles of magick across her. The glamour began once it crossed the frayed hem of her nightgown, transforming the cloth from the primeval cotton she wore to the Fae-specified trance fabric of spun moonbeam, flecked with stardust. The silver color of the simple design suited her perfectly and smoothed to her every curve; the sleep dress fell to her knees and extended to her neck before cutting off at her sleeves, providing him with a further view of her flesh.

Jareth knew that he was pushing the bounds much more than he should. He had only just retrieved the girl and placed her in her own chamber and, already, he was dressing her in a manner that solely served to please him. He would have to be much more careful with his actions or, before he knew it, he would lose control. He was aware that Sarah was, to her kind, still considered a child – though he knew better; one could not be considered a child after attempting the labyrinth… and to be the first mortal to successfully navigate… – and, as such, he needed to be careful with her.

Though he refused to leave her side – he not only desired to watch her nightmares play out through the use of his crystals but he also desired to be there when she finally awoke – Jareth stepped away from the bed. The lure of the girl, so beautiful and determined yet so very vulnerable, was too strong and he did not trust himself enough to stay so close. He did not leave the room but he did commit himself to the furthest corner of the room.

And it was there that he conjured another crystal and turned it to the nighttime visions he had implanted into Sarah's psyche. The first had worked perfectly to his mind. What better way to crumble her protection than by showing her the one thing she feared: the loss of her family. It had been that thought – that her family preferred the baby to her, that her mother did not want her and that her stepmother despised her – that led Sarah to wish Toby away in the first place. A second shot of indecision would cause further damage to her resolve, he was sure.

However, in order for his plan to work, he needed to guide her through a second dream, if a somewhat shorter one. It would be much less of a nightmare, at least, he hoped she would view it that way, and it would showcase just how generous he could be; just what he could give her, if only she let him. As if he had not done everything that he thought of in order to show the girl that already…

--

It was so very dark. There was plenty of physical pain, too – her wrist ached and she had slid down a few steps after her father had so cruelly tossed her into the hole in the ground – but nothing beat the emotional turmoil that Sarah was going through at that moment.

The tears had begun to flow almost as soon as she heard the grate crash down above her, blocking the sunlight from her and condemning her back to this undeserving existence. Or was it deserving? According to both her father and her stepmother, Toby was gone and it was all her fault – and, as punishment, she was kept underground.

It was ironic, really. If her parents were to be believed, then she had wished away her brother but, instead of winning as she thought she had, she must have lost him to the Underground. So, in a way, they were both sentenced to a life below the world they knew: Toby in the Goblin Kingdom, Sarah locked away below her home.

Of course, that was if she believed it all. And, while she could not understand why her father and Karen would lie to her and treat her in such a way if it were not true, she could not comprehend what was going on. She had no recollection as to what had happened prior to this moment. It was as if she had not existed before Merlin found her at the base of these steps.

The tears continued to run but they were silent tears. She hurt too much to expend the energy required to let out a heartfelt sob – and, besides, it was not as if she had an audience for her misery. She had heard her parents return to the house after locking her up again, her father murmuring comfort to his second wife. Even Merlin, with an echo of a bark, had left her again. And she was alone.

How long the girl remained on those steps, trying hard to remember, and trying equally as much not to devote any mind to the situation she had found herself in, she did not know. It was long enough for the sliver of light that wound its way through the minute gap to thin and fade to nothingness. There was only darkness and sorrow.

It was then, when the light snuffed out and Sarah felt that things could not get possibly worse, that Sarah began the slow descent down these rickety stairs. The physical pain had given way only to sharp numbness; she felt nothing, not even against the sensitive soles of her bare feet, as she brought herself even further underground. It was strange, she thought as she continued to descend, that the stairs seemed to go down much further then she remembered from her earlier climb. Chalking that up to her hurry to get out of the darkness – she must not have paid as close attention to her ascent – she continued feeling her way down until the ground was level.

Once there was nowhere else to go, she paused. Having no memory of being in this dungeon before that day, she did not know what she would find – and did not care to explore. Right then, all she wanted to do was lean up against that bottommost stair and cry herself to sleep. Maybe then, when she woke up, everything would have turned out to be just a bad dream.

She sniffled and curled herself up into a ball. Knowing that all she wore were rags that had once been her favorite nightgown made Sarah shake with a chill. She wrapped her dirty arms around her torso and tried to will herself warm. However, just as she felt that it could not get any worse, any warmth she had evaporated; it was suddenly far colder than it had been – almost as if a cruel wind had found its way underground.

Sarah did not pay much mind to the strange wind; as it was, she had too many problems of her own. But, when she heard the crackling of dirt under a heavy, boot-covered step, she was alert. Just like before, when Merlin found her in this hole, she was no longer alone.

"Who—who's there?" she whispered, trying not to sound as frightened as she was feeling.

"Who do you want to be here?" was the response. Whoever it was – and Sarah had the sinking feeling that she knew exactly who it was, as improbable as it was – was matching her tone. But they did not sound the least bit frightened; instead, there was a seductive quality to their voice.

"Go away. Leave me be," she replied, drawing further strength into her voice. It was bad enough that she had been thrust into such a situation because of him. If this was all true, then the Goblin King was to blame for everything that had happened to her. "You stole Toby."

"No," he answered as he drew closer to her. Though dark as it was, Sarah could make out his intimidating form – it was him. The Goblin King. She would know that wild blond hair, that feral smile and the shiny cloak he wore anywhere. As the rest of him was dressed in black, she could not tell where he began, nor ended, but the lightness of his features caught her attention and, ironically, caused her to blush. She could tell from the whites of his eyes that he was staring intently at her, an expression quite similar to the one he had bestowed on her before she defeated him… but she could not have defeated him if he had Toby… "I took him as a favor to you. You asked that he be taken, and I took him. You should be grateful, Sarah."

She could only hope that he could not see in the darkness; her knees were shaking slightly and her eyes still held tears but, when she spoke, she regained that confidence she had when running the labyrinth. "Grateful? Are you kidding? You took Toby alright but look at me. Look at me!"

"Yes, well, this is unfortunate. If only you would have accepted your dreams. You should have known that I would have won – I always win in the end, Sarah, remember that – and that there was no way you could retrieve your baby brother. You would have had your dreams and not be stuck in this hovel."

Her knees were still shaking but not from fright (though he was still intimidating her); she was angry at his nerve. How dare he blame the outcome on her? "This is not my fault. I can't bel—"

"Believe it," Jareth said, cutting her off. His voice had an edge to it, like sharp steel, but, when he spoke again, he had softened. "But, Sarah, I have come again with a proposition. Would you like to hear it?"

The girl was fuming. She could not understand the gall that the Goblin King had, appearing to her in such a state, wanting to play more games. However, what else could she do? "What is it?"

Though it was hard to tell in the blackness, she was almost positive she could feel the smile that crossed his devilishly handsome face. "I can take you away from all of this. Set you free from this darkness and bring you back into the light."

"And what would you want in return?"

"Why, you, of course. Did you forget my earlier offer, Sarah? Just fear me… love me… do as I say. And I will be your slave. It still holds, though I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it open for you. There is only so much rejection that a King can take."

He moved even closer, this time muffling his steps so that Sarah did not detect his presence until it was too late. Just like he had done, when he saw her in the below tunnels of the labyrinth, he leaned in close to her. As she was sitting on the dirt floor, he had knelt to be at her level and, before she knew it, his face was inches from hers. "What say you, Sarah?"

His intrusion into her person space spooked her more than she would later admit to. She pulled her head back and pushed at his firm chest, trying desperately to increase the amount of room between them. He was not prepared for her action and, though he did not stumble, he did rise. "Sarah…" he began warningly but, before he could finish his statement, the girl jumped to her feet.

She did not answer him – neither his offer, his question, or his stating of her name – but, instead, began to run. It was a childish reaction, but one she felt suited her purposes at that moment. All she knew was that the Goblin King was there and she no longer wanted to be. Rather than think through matters sensibly, she let her instincts take over and she ran.

Jareth chuckled lowly, a vindictive sound quite unlike any laugh Sarah had ever heard. It sounded so threatening, yet so promising; that chuckle intimidated her and, though the girl was aware how fruitless her efforts were, she tried to run more quickly. The Goblin King, after his chuckle had dispersed into the darkness, and she had gotten far enough away for his words to make an impact, decided to remind her who she was dealing with. "Sarah, when will you learn that no matter how far you run," he began before transporting himself a few feet in front of her, "I will always be the faster?"

Sarah squealed out in surprise. Though it was still so very dark – and she was running deeper into the darkness – her eyes were adjusted enough to make out the flash of his pendant and his shining cloak as he appeared right in front of her. She did not stop running, though. And, surprisingly, he did not reach for her, or try to halt her in any way as she frantically made her past. Instead, he just sighed. It was a soft, sad noise and so unlike anything she ever thought a cruel King could produce. For a moment, she wondered if it might be smarter to accept his offer but then she remembered who she was dealing with. And she ran.

--

Sarah awoke with a terrifying jerk. Her forehead was slick with sweat and she was panting heavily, almost as if she was still running. But she had not been running… had she? It was a dream… wasn't it? Nothing more than a silly nightmare that came from telling Toby one too many bedtime stories about an imaginary Goblin King. Right?

The girl pulled herself up on her elbows and, closing her eyes in an attempt to push out the frightening images of the cruel, conniving King that had just been plaguing her, she took a deep breath. It was calming and, in the darkness, Sarah felt her lips curving. It was only a nightmare, she told herself, and when you open your eyes, you're going to be home, sleeping in your bed. Visiting the Underground and meeting the Goblin King was nothing more than a dream. He's nothing more than a dream…

But, before she could open her eyes, she felt the smoothness of her sheets against her elbows and paused. Wait a second. I'm not in my bed… I'm not in my bed…

The realization hit her and her chest tightened. It was a feeling of immense fear and she could hear herself start to breathe heavily – as if she was trying to calm herself down or, at the very least, prepare herself for what she would find when she opened her eyes. If she opened her eyes. At that moment, Sarah felt that she would be satisfied in remaining in the darkness for as long as she could. Ignorance was bliss, after all, and if she kept herself hidden away in that ignorance, then she would have no need to learn where exactly she was (if she was not in her bed).

Sarah was, of course, aware that she could not sit there, with her eyes clamped shut, forever. It was a childish suggestion and she was not a child. She would have to face the truth – whatever the truth was. For all she knew, she began to reason more rationally (though, it should be noted, she still had not opened her eyes), Karen might have just changed her sheets and she had been too tired before to notice it.

Of course. I mean, what was I thinking? If I wasn't in my bed, then where was I? She was calming considerably. She even cracked a small smile as she thought about how foolish she had been, automatically assuming the impossible; just because she had had a series of wicked nightmares, it did not mean that those phantoms had come to life and stolen her away. She was just being paranoid.

Chiding herself for automatically blaming her upset on bogeymen, phantoms, and, dare she think it, goblins, Sarah rubbed the cooling sweat from her forehead and opened her eyes. It was dark but something was not quite right. It took her a few seconds – a few seconds, during which her heart began to speed up and her fear returned – to realize that there was candle, a lit candle, beside her bed. And that candle was illuminating a bed that was not hers.

Where am I?

Her eyes were searching eagerly through the darkness and, using the candle, she knew that she was not in her room. Apart from that, there were no other clues. Well, not right away. After those first few (tense) seconds, Sarah began to scream. The sound erupted from her before she had given the command but it felt like the right thing to do – until a hand, as if appearing out of nowhere, gingerly place itself over her mouth, effectively muffling her screams.

She was still sitting up in the bed and, as soon as the hand appeared, she felt the hardness of a body pressed up against her back. Someone was sitting in the bed with her. And, though Sarah wanted nothing more than to stare straight ahead so that she would never meet eye to eye to whomever it was that had placed her in this room, she did notice one thing – one thing that gave away the identity of her (undesired) companion: the hand was enshrouded in a leather glove.

Confronted with such a realization, Sarah lost it entirely. It seemed that every time she had convinced herself that her meeting with the Goblin King had been nothing more than fantasy – whether it was a dream or a nightmare, Sarah was not entirely sure – a reminder came rushing forward, dashing her illusion to bits. And, what better way to verify that he was, in fact, real than to embrace her?

Sarah did not want to understand what was going on. She did not want to believe that this was true, that it was not just an elaborate continuation of her earlier nightmares. So, rather than turn around and face her fears (and supposed imagination), she did the only thing she could. She slipped back into unconsciousness. Perhaps when she woke up again, the strong hold of a fantastical King would have disappeared and she would be home again. In her own bed, preferably. Because, obviously, Sarah would never give into the Goblin King. He had no power over her… right?