Disclaimer: Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

I'm not sure if it was the threats or the polite pleas, by you seem to have gotten through. I present his majesty, the Goblin King.

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Chapter 7: Put on Your Red Shoes

Jareth managed to ignore Sarah's presence in the Labyrinth for nearly an entire week. After assigning her to the kitchens and Narga's watchful eye, he had dismissed her from his thoughts. After all, she was just another foolish mortal who didn't appreciate the preciousness of life. He did not think of her as he stretched his wings over the Labyrinth. He did not ponder her well-being while listening to his subjects' petty complaints on court days. He did not sense her echo as he paced the stairs of the Escher room. He did not think of her at all.

Not, that is, until Narga sent a gibbering little goblin to inform him that the ogress had given Sarah permission to explore the castle unaccompanied. Jareth frowned at Narga's judgement, letting the girl (woman, his mind reminded him) wander alone so soon. He only decided to watch her through a crystal as a precautionary measure. Even if Narga was right and Sarah was well enough to be on her own, there were all sorts of dangers she might wander into accidentally. It was a testament to his regal generosity that he should be concerned for the welfare of even the least of his subjects. That was the only reason he watched her slip tentatively into the library, watched her browse the shelves, awe warring with frustration on her delicate features, watched her run a gentle hand along the blank sheaves of paper sitting at the writing desk. He tensed when she stopped at the window by the desk, but she only rested her forehead on the glass, gazing out at the Labyrinth. Her expression was still, her gaze distant, giving him no clue to her thoughts. After a time, she turned back to the shelves, eventually selecting a small volume and settling onto one of the couches to read. Still later, she stood, stretched, returned the book to its shelf, and made her way back to her room, pulling the door closed with a reluctant sigh. When Jareth realized how much time had passed, he told himself that he had simply been avoiding the rather tiresome high court correspondence that littered his desk. He needed a break, that was all. He would go flying in the morning to clear his head.

And when, returning from that flight, he saw Sarah standing by the stables, he told himself it was only curiosity that had him winging to a nearby perch, only exhaustion from the flight that set his owl's breast trembling. But even he could not justify the pang of jealousy he felt when she cuddled one of the young hunting hounds, when she laughed at the kitten who clambered up her skirt, when she smiled in welcome at the arrival of another servant, the Linlithgow woman. Nor could he deny the significance of his desire to follow them into the town, despite having already worn himself out in his long morning's flight. He knew then that he had been fooling himself, that he had only kept Sarah from his thoughts through an act of will. His very breath was aware of her presence; his whole being yearned to bring her closer, to feel the softness of her skin, smell the sweet scent of her hair, lose himself in the forest of her eyes.

With an angry squawk, he launched himself up, into the castle, determined to bring his unruly heart under control before it could undermine him again. He would not see her. He would not think of her. He would not play the fool again.

~*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*~

Sarah's eyes traced the intricate figures that graced the ballroom door. Some magic made them seem to sway and spin at under her gaze and she could not help the smile that lit her features. She had been given permission to go exploring again, and this time her aimless steps had lead her here. Curiosity tugged her closer. Was it the same ballroom she had danced in? But no, he'd closed it before her run, hadn't he? But perhaps he'd modelled her dream on it? She sighed at the romantic notions that flitted through her thoughts, reminding herself firmly that fantasy and reality were two very separate things. He had expressed no interest in her since she'd arrived, which was, she told herself, for the best. She wondered, nonetheless, what the ballroom looked like. Surely no one would notice if she took a quick peek?

Checking first to make sure the hallway was clear, Sarah eased open the latch to the large doors and slipped inside. Light sprung up the instant her foot touched the floor, and Sarah gasped her astonishment at the pearlescent scene before her. It was almost exactly as she remembered it. The cushions, tables and streamers were gone, as was the press of people, but she recognized the scroll work on the pillars, the vault of the ceiling, the cascade of chandeliers. Quietly she descended the stair nearest the door and trailed out into the middle of the ballroom floor, her memories filling the room with lasciviously masked figures and a handsome king who sang of love and the stars. The tightness of memory in her chest echoed the weight of the gown she had worn, the fear and innocence and wonder that had stolen her breath as she had danced in his arms. She swayed to the remembered lyrics, her feet tentatively feeling out familiar patterns, unaware that the music in her head was echoed in the room around her. That is, until it was cut off suddenly by an angry and familiar voice:

"You. What are you doing here?"

Jareth was seething with rage. His anger stripped the calm of pleasant memories from her, reopening the pain and bleakness that had only just begun to heal. She lashed out angrily, knowing she was acting childishly, but not caring. "Well, gee, Jareth, it's a ballroom. What do people do in a ballroom, again? Oh, yeah, they dance."

The acid hit its mark, a little more effectively than Sarah had expected. In a second he was in front of her, his hand wrapped around her throat, forcing her eyes to his black, growling gaze. "You" he snarled "will address me as your majesty and show respect for your king, or you will discover that the bog of eternal stench is a child's sandbox compared to some areas of my Labyrinth." With an angry shove, he pushed her away. "Besides, I would hardly call that random seizing that you mortals practice aboveground these days 'dancing.'" He enjoyed the sputtering rage tinged with terror on her face, but he had not expected her furious riposte.

"I'm surprised that your majesty manages to rule his kingdom when he knows so little about his own subjects."

"I base my assessment on experience, I assure you, or do you forget that I have had the misfortune of dancing with you before?" He thrilled at the pain that crossed her expression, knowing he had scored a point, and he ignored the twinge of guilt that whispered to him of her untrained grace, even then. That same rebel voice cheered when she rallied.

"As I'm sure you know, your majesty, mortal lives are short. Unlike some, we aim to improve our failings while we can."

The woman's tenacity, her courage in continuing to face him in his anger, her jibe against his faults of which he knew he had many, and the implication that she had, in fact, learned some skill over the years she had been aboveground, all these finally held sway with his anger. He regarded her coolly, arms crossed, as he assessed her form, pleased by the fiery temper that met him stare for stare. Yes, she did have a dancer's poise, now that she was no longer consumed by fatigue and despair. He stepped back and, with a gesture, indicated the open floor.

"Prove it."

Sarah blinked rapidly, unbalanced by this sudden change in tactic, but she recovered herself. This was familiar territory, an echo of dozens of auditions and competitions. She moved to the centre of the floor and then paused, uncertain.

"Well?" The snidely disinterested tone said clearly that he expected little of her. This, too, was familiar, and Sarah suddenly relaxed, remembering a host of bitter and bored competition judges and directors, men and women who had seen too many eager and untalented performers. They had always dismissed her in advance because she'd started training so late, but her instructors had taught her how to face this prejudice gracefully. In stark contrast to her early anger, she simply raised an eyebrow at his tone and asked, "with or without music?"

Jareth was careful not to show his surprise. It was a question that demonstrated real training. Music could mask a lack of fine control in an inexperienced dancer, so the willingness to dance without it suggested that Sarah had confidence in her control and timing. He knew he could spot technical proficiency regardless, however, and he was more curious to see how she responded to the music.

"With."

"How do I...."

"Hear it in your head and the room will echo it." His heart skipped a little at the awed delight that flitted across her face before she frowned in concentration, focusing on the music she wanted. It was the stirring of this glamour that had alerted him to her intrusion in the first place, although he had no intention of telling her that it required a significant measure of personal magic to awaken the room's latent power. He had hoped that the Labrynth would only grant her one of the small magics, that she would simply fade into the background of his life. As he watched her begin to dance, he wondered, yet again, why he had ever expected anything simple could be applied to Sarah Williams.

She could dance. Oh to be certain, she was mortal, and so limited a little in how far she could push her human frame. She was also clearly still weak, out of practice, her limbs trembling just a little, her breath a touch ragged, her footfalls audible under the music. But the beauty of her movements even so would have stolen the breath from many of the high court, a beauty made more painfully poignant because of its raw mortality. The rhythmic music teased limbs out from an impossibly tight human ball into weightless grace, tossed her in seeming chaos only to resolve in smooth, controlled arcs. Instinctively he adjusted the lights in the room, drowning himself in shadow, her in light. His heart plummeted with each suspension and release, soared as she spun. He could see elements of different schools in her choreography, but in a fusion entirely unfamiliar. Her body made love to the earth while aching to fly in the heavens. As she came to a panting halt in a crouch exactly where she had begun, Jareth found himself struggling with the betrayals of his heart and mind.

Sarah slowly became aware of the changed lighting as she regained her breath. Once the music had started, only the dance had existed for her. It was one of her favourites, not only because it showcased her talents well, but because it stood for all that had happened to her the first time she'd been in the Labrynth. It had been her dance with Jareth during that first visit, unlike anything she'd experienced before or since, that had awoken her passion for movement, and her triumph over the Labrynth that had given her the will and determination to learn, despite her age. She had learned faster than she'd had the right to expect, her body taking to the discipline with uncanny swiftness, and she often wondered if the peach she'd eaten had imparted more than a dream of dancing. Unwilling to question her fortune too closely, she had simply devoted herself to her new discipline, gradually developing her own style out of the techniques she learned voraciously. The dance she'd just completed had been her first in the new style, one of only a few she'd developed before her father's death, the one she had danced on that terrible day in fact. After, there hadn't seemed much point, or even opportunity. Now, her limbs protesting from long neglect, she couldn't fathom why she'd ever stopped. For that glorious stretch of time only her body and the music existed. She trembled with fear. What if he wouldn't let her dance? What if she wasn't good enough? When she'd pushed him before, she hadn't really cared how he responded, but now, she realized painfully, she had something to lose. She licked her lips and tried desperately for a suitably subservient tone. "Was that alright... your majesty?"

For a long moment, there was only silence, and Sarah began to despair. Had he left? Was it that bad? Then the darkness shifted a little and his voice drifted out, strangely hollow.

"What do you think of my library?"

Sarah blinked, thrown off guard yet again. Had he been watching her? She realized that it shouldn't have come as a surprise. "It is impressive, your majesty."

"But holds no interest for you? You were once so fond of books."

"Most of the books are in languages I can't understand." She wanted to scream in frustration. Why was he asking these inane questions? What did they have to do with anything? She kept a firm grip on her tone.

"And my stables?"

"I... enjoyed the puppies, your majesty, but the mounts scare me a little."

She heard him sigh in resignation, and the lights lifted slightly so that she could see his frustrated expression. "And yet, you are drawn here, expressly against my commands. It appears that the Labyrinth takes as much delight in thwarting me as you do." He frowned at her, but the import of his words overcame her anxiety. The Labyrinth had drawn her to the room, had been testing her to find a place for her, just as Sand had said it would.

"Then I can... come back here? I can come and dance here sometimes." Jareth snorted and brushed imaginary dust from his thigh.

"You will do more than dance 'sometimes', woman. The Labyrinth has decided that the ballroom should be reopened, and deemed you to be it's chief inhabitant. You will continue to serve in the kitchens, but you will add mistress of revels to your duties. I expect you to spend your afternoons here, and be prepared to entertain at court functions. It will be an improvement over drunken goblin choruses. Do not," he added fiercely, "disappoint me, Sarah."

Sarah had not felt such pure joy for so long that she thought her heart would burst. It lit her face, and her gratitude was sincere as she thanked him, not caring that his frown only deepened before he vanished wordlessly. Laughing, she echoed chords of joy through the room, skipping and spinning across the dance floor as long as her tired body would allow.

In his study, Jareth slumped in his chair, one hand pressed to his chest, the other clutching a crystal into which he gazed with tormented longing.

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Ok, kittens. I'm a little stuck on the next chapter. If you feel like helping me out, pick a character (any character) and tell me what you think his/her reaction would be to hearing about the re-opened ballroom and/or the new mistress of revels. Of course, regular reviews and statements of support are always welcome!