Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth or associated characters.

WARNING: disturbing fic alert – angsty, fucked up, all kinds of triggers, dysfunctional relationships, graphic sex. You get the idea.

AN: after a long back and forth with someone who hates my ANs (no hard feelings) but likes my fics, I've decided to post my ANs on my tmblr (which I'm still not familiar with, so bear with me)—along with a few things from my life—maybe some blog posts, who knows. I may put up a pic or two about what Michael and Alex look like. (batesybates)

I'm sorry for the delay guys. I noticed the last update was in July. I've had vacations and birthdays and crazy work projects to deal with—and writing these dark fics requires some deep rumination on my end as I'm generally happy to the point of being slightly manic.

Onward.

Promises

(15 years prior)…

She's only been in his castle for three days, but she's beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable. She notices the strange glint in their eyes first, and then she starts noticing their tone—the way they speak to her is just so…she can't quite describe it. It's almost as if they're making fun of her, but she can't exactly pinpoint how. Even how they smile at her, there's just the slightest hint of condescension to the twist of their lips.

And then there's him.

She has no clue what to make of him…but she's afraid of the level of…intensity…he displays at times. Sometimes she catches him staring at her with a look of bewildered disbelief in his dual eyes—sometimes, anger. Blazing anger that's hot enough to sear through her mortal body. And then there are times when he looks at her with indulgent, patronizing humor, the kind she simply cannot stand—as if he's her caretaker while she's a spoiled child.

Frowning as she stares at her reflection in the mirror, the very same she uses to transport herself to her room from his castle, she counts the number of bruises on her person. He's been…she wouldn't use the word rough…but…he's been far more physically demanding than he'd been before. She feels a sense of coldness—she can't describe it any other way—from him. Last night, a slow blush travels up her neck when she recalls the events of the previous night—he'd never made love to her like that before.

(The night before)…

"Hold the bar." His voice is smooth as velvet, but his words are indubitably spoken as an order.

She does as he asks, raising her hands above her head and curling her fingers around the bar. Her feet don't quite touch the ground—she has to stand on her toes. She's never felt so exposed in her life, so…vulnerable. It's as if she can feel every muscle in her body as they stretch to the fullest. The heady mix of fear and arousal sends shivers down her spine.

"Part your feet," he says, no, he commands, his voice lowering an octave, carrying a hint of cruel humor as if he knows the effect he has on her.

She does as he asks, her legs trembling in anticipation—the slow, steady throbbing between her legs makes her feel like clenching her thighs together. The room is pitch dark so she can't see a thing.

"Jareth?" she asks quietly after a few moments pass in silence. "Where are you?"

He doesn't answer her right away—choosing to absorb her naked form instead. A slow smirk twists his bow shaped lips as he sees her struggle to hold her weight on her toes—her small breasts pushed out obscenely.

"I'm looking at you, Sa-rah," he drawls, his voice the definition of temptation. "Why are you so nervous?" He closes the distance between them in one swift stride. "Don't you trust me?"

Drawing in a sharp breath as she hears him move, she stammers her response, "I do. I've never done anything like-"

He interrupts her by placing a gloved finger to her lips. "I know you haven't, precious thing," he croons, "I feel generous enough to teach you." He runs his gloved fingers down her face, her neck slowly. "But you must do as I ask."

Her chest rises and falls as her breath catches in her throat. Tiny beads of sweat form on the back of her neck and forehead, arousal seeps down her thigh.

"Will you, precious thing?" he prompts when she doesn't respond—he traces her collar bones with his fingers, drinking in her soft gasps and tremors. Her nipples tighten as she anticipates his touch—she's so responsive. His body starts responding in kind, his blood runs hot as he feels himself harden.

"O-okay," she says, voice husky with desire. He hasn't even touched her properly yet and she's already wet. Her shallow breaths now turn to pants as he caresses the sides of her neck and shoulders, his movements deliberately slow.

"The only thing I ask of you is that your hands stay on the bar and your feet on the floor," he murmurs, his fingers now making their way to the tops of her breasts. "Will you promise to follow those simple instructions, Sa-rah?" he draws out her name, smiling as she shudders into his touch—her breasts now swollen and her nipples begging to be touched…but he doesn't. Not yet. He'd held himself back so as not to frighten the mortal witless, but tonight, he feels differently—he feels as if he can't control himself.

"Yes," she says, a moan forming on her lips as his fingers graze her hypersensitive nipples. "Jareth," she gasps as he takes his hands away from her breasts, aching for his touch.

A slow laugh. "What is it, precious thing? What do you want?" He laughs cruelly when she doesn't answer—mortals and their inhibitions. "Do you want me to touch you, Sa-rah?" he asks, tracing her hardened nipples with the tips of his fingers, his touch feather light.

Breath hitching in her throat, she almost screams in frustration. It's not enough to ease the agonizing pain—her skin feels like it's on fire. His voice alone is enough to awaken this voracious need within her. "Please, Jareth," she whispers.

"Here?" he asks, his hands suddenly rough—he presses into a large bruise on her shoulder.

She cries out in pain at his sudden, unexpected assault.

"Shh," he whispers, his lips latch onto her nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. His skilled hands knead the soft flesh of her chest, teasing her into a near painful state of arousal. He laughs as he hears her let out a strangled gasp. "Already so aroused," he murmurs against her skin. "It wouldn't take much for you to go over the edge, would it, precious?"

Fighting the urge to let go of the bar and run her hands through her body, she tries pleading for mercy. "Please."

Jareth chuckles darkly. "I do intend to please, precious thing," he rumbles, his fingers now caressing her sides—running across her stomach sending little sparks of electric heat down their paths. "But on my terms," he says before running his lips down her throat and suckling the skin above her throbbing pulse. He leaves a searing trail of light kisses down her neck to the tops of her breasts.

Sarah's breathing turns slow and labored. The sensations he evokes in her—it's all too much. She feels like she's going to explode any second if he doesn't touch her right now. "Jar-"" her voice dies as he places a hot, open mouthed kiss on her already over stimulated nipple.

"I suggest you stop talking, precious thing—you must listen." His fingers now caress her back in circular strokes. "Or I will gag you."

She gasps, her mouth wide open. He wouldn't…would he?

A slow smile—oh precious, you're so easily shocked. "You look decadent," he murmurs, his fingers running along her thighs. "Your feet apart, your clitoris peeking out begging to be touched…so fucking wet." A surge of lust flows through his veins as he resists the overwhelming need to take her standing up.

Closing her eyes, she throws her head back—she imagines him pulling her thighs apart, his fingers rough as he devours her, his tongue circling her clit, his relentless fingers pumping inside her until she screams out her release. God, when had she turned so depraved? The vivid imagery combined with a feeling of shame only heightens her need, and she lets out a piercing moan.

Taking hold of his raging passions, Jareth holds her chin in his fingers, looking directly at her even if she can't see him. "How is it that you have this effect on me, Sa-rah?"

She shudders at his tone—something had definitely changed. There's quiet, contained fury in his voice. "I don't-"

He cuts her off with a ferocious kiss, his fingers simultaneously pressing against the flesh right above her clit. He pulls his body against hers, letting her feel the heat of his erection…but still, he doesn't touch her pulsing clit as he pleasures her ruthlessly without giving her any chance of release.

Drowning. She feels like she's drowning in a haze of pleasure—his lips against hers, hard enough to bruise. His fingers pressing intimately against her flesh, drawing blood to her clit—the line between pleasure and pain blurs and she feels like she's starving. Unable to control herself any longer, she wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him against herself—groaning as she feels his erection press directly onto her throbbing clit.

And just like that, he steps away from her, chuckling darkly as he hears her moans of protest. "Your feet were off the ground, Sa-rah," he says with a mocking lilt. "You weren't able follow my simple instructions."

Struggling to normalize her breathing, she automatically leans into the direction of his voice—her hands still hold the bar above her head. She's so aroused at this moment, she'll go mad if he leaves her like this. "Please Jareth," she pleads, "It hurts."

His chuckle turns into a full throated laugh. "But you must face some sort of repercussion, no? After all, you did promise, and words have power…don't they?" He gently runs a finger down her cheek before reaching in between her legs and lightly touching her clitoris.

Gasping hoarsely, she struggles to stand as he continues caressing her clit—his touch unbearably light. "Anything," she whimpers—at this point, she'll do anything he says.

"Good girl," he croons, stepping away from her once again. "I'll deal with that later…" he removes his clothing, one article at a time—enjoying watching her writhe in frustration. "But now," he whispers hotly in her ear, "I'd rather do this." With those words, he pushes inside her in one fluid motion, groaning as her walls clench against his cock.

"What are you thinking, precious thing?" His deep, lilting voice disrupts her memories of the previous night—the twinkle in his eye tells her he knows exactly what she's thinking.

"Last night," she says, cursing her genes—why did she have to blush so easily!

"I was thinking the very same thing," he rumbles, stalking towards her slowly. "You recall saying you'd do anything?"

Her eyes widen as her heartrate spikes—he sounds so…serious. "Um…yeah."

A slow, predatory smile. "Good."

(Present day, 15 years later)…

Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, Sarah puts on a façade of strength. "Michael, Alexander," she says, voice stern. "What have I told you about listening in on my conversations with Jareth?"

It's Alex who speaks up this time—his mother rarely uses the full form of his name, so he knows he's in trouble. "Not to do it."

"We weren't listening in—we heard you raise your voice," Michael jumps in, eager to get both of them out of trouble.

"May I?" Jareth asks Sarah, a hint of amusement in his deep voice—he smiles when she nods and looks towards his sons, his eyes narrowing as he concentrates. "It's the truth."

Michael watches the exchange with his mouth open. "What are you, a human lie detector?"

Jareth looks at the boy for a few seconds before breaking out into deep, rich laughter. "I thought the very first thing I established was that I'm decidedly not human."

"Fine. Walking lie detector, then," Michael mumbles, annoyed at his mistake.

"What did you do…I could feel you in my head," Alex asks, his voice quiet, but his eyes shine with unbridled interest, belying his curiosity.

Just as Jareth is about to answer, Sarah steps in, her arms crossed resolutely. "We can discuss that later, go to bed."

"But mom-" Michael begins protesting before he's silenced by his mother's stern glare. "Uh, sure, we'll go to bed." The twins give each other a covert look before bidding goodnight and heading to one of their allotted rooms.

"They've been provided with separate bed chambers," Jareth says. "But I'm not surprised—twice bonded twins are known for…sharing."

Sarah shakes her head in warning. "Don't," she says softly. "There's only so much new information I can handle."

Bowing his head, Jareth concedes. "Of course." He stalks over to where he was previously seated and settles down, his eyes intent on hers. "I would allow you some rest, but I fear there are matters we need to discuss, precious thing. Let's try and have a conversation without any further incidents."

Of all the fucking nerve! Sarah's temper rages at his arrogance—as if she were the one to caused incidents. Keep calm, Williams, she tells herself, he's trying to do this on purpose—don't play the weak, emotional human to his cool and collected Fae king.

Eyeing the murderous look of rage written cross her face, he chuckles as she manages to keep her emotions under the surface. Not bad. "Shall we?" he asks, gesturing to the empty armchair across from him.

She sits down as he asks, somehow keeping herself from glaring at him. Her anger would only seek to amuse him and she refuses to give him the satisfaction. "Maybe we can have this conversation next time, Jareth. We're leaving tomorrow so it's not like there's more protocol to go over."

Jareth's gaze turns sharp. "About that, precious thing…" he pauses, studying her with his predatory eyes. "Could I persuade you to spend one more day? Michael and Alexander can tour the castle and spend some time with the Goblin Council." He raises a hand when she opens her mouth to protest. "I know this isn't what we had scheduled, but current circumstances make it such that they must get accustomed to this place sooner rather than later."

Sarah doesn't feel the boiling rage that she'd felt earlier—instead her anger morphs into ice cold numbness. "That isn't what we'd agreed to, Jareth."

The Goblin King raises a laconic brow. "It's for their safety, Sarah. Be reasonable."

Fixing him with a frosty glare, Sarah replies, "You waited till the last minute on purpose, knowing I'd have refused if you'd asked me in the beginning."

"No, precious thing. You wouldn't have refused in the beginning—but convincing you would have taken longer." His tone is matter-of-fact and the spark in his eyes victorious, he knows he's won this small battle.

Sarah sighs—he has her pinned. She'd do anything for her sons' safety, including spending time in this ream so that they get accustomed to their role. It's an easy way to manipulate her, and she knows that he's going to use it to his advantage.

And just like that, her carefully construed façade begins to slip. She struggles to breathe as an onslaught of overwhelming emotions threaten to drive her insane. The reality of her sons' having to be a part of this vicious world makes her stomach churn until she's nauseous—as does sitting so close to him. In spite of everything he's done, all the harm he's caused her, she still feels a sense of sickening attraction to the Goblin King, who sit across from her, as calm as ever.

Clenching her trembling hands into fists, Sarah stands up abruptly. "Whatever you say, Jareth," she says through gritted teeth before whirling around and making her way to her so called room. "I need to be alone for a while—please don't invade my space." She doesn't even turn around as she says the words—she'll be damned if she lets him see the tears in her eyes.

The Goblin King stares at mortal woman's retreating form, a sigh escaping his lips. Sarah hadn't taken it well, like he'd predicted. Still—it is for the best. His sons are woefully unprepared for anything—they had never practiced magic, nor had they been trained in the art of battle, or even court protocol. He realizes the prudent course of action now would be to leave Sarah alone for the night and head back for some sleep…but he can't.

Laughing at himself bitterly, Jareth walks over to Sarah's room and listens with his avian senses.

(Sarah's room)…

She gives in to her tears the moment she knows she's alone, making sure to keep her sobs quiet. She hates feeling like this—so helpless, unable to protect her sons when she'd sworn to protect them against him. Leaning against the wall, she slides down until she sits on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Sarah." The Goblin King's resonant voice interrupts her grief. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

She looks up at him, too exhausted to demand that he leave her room this instant—it's his castle, so it's his room. She knows he can do anything he pleases—she'd learned that the first time around. "Can't you give me the dignity of crying alone in this room that you've allegedly given me?"

Jareth purses his lips—he doesn't like the sight of her so broken—he never had. "I was concerned." That's all he can manage, anything else would sound disingenuous.

Raising her brows, Sarah gapes at him, unsure whether to laugh or cry. "You're concerned?" she asks, incredulous. "And so you choose to invade my privacy when I'm at my weakest—so you can what? Study what sets me off?"

"No," he replies vehemently, untamed emotion in his voice—he runs a slender hand through his wild mane. "I…"

"What?" Sarah asks, curiosity winning over anger. "You, what?"

Letting out a harsh breath, Jareth turns away from his mortal weakness. "I don't want to cause you pain."

She can't help but laugh at his newfound conscience. "You truly believe that, don't you? You think it's that easy," she pauses to laugh some more. "You do realize that's all you've done?"

He turns to look her in the eyes, his gaze intense enough to run a shiver up her spine. "Not anymore—I swear I'll do everything in my power to keep you and our sons safe."

She stares at him, dumbfounded. She's smart enough not to believe everything he says—yet she can clearly see that he's being genuine. Or at least trying to be. "You can start by leaving," she declares, a challenge to her voice. "We'll join you for breakfast tomorrow."

Jareth clearly doesn't understand human emotions, does he?

AN: so I finally conceded—I've kept from calling Jareth 'Fae' in all of my fics, but I had to make him one in this.

Q—how tall is Sarah in your fic?

A—she's 5'8'' generally (that's taller than JC) and I like a tall Sarah because I think a sleek and sexy look suits the character well (personally, I'm more of an Audrey Hepburn / Jackie O kind of dresser but I like a chiseled, glamorous, Gucci model circa when Frida Giannini took over, Sarah—goes with Jareth well). Also, writing sex scenes is way easier. As someone who's 5'4'' and has only ever been in serious relationships with and (eventually got married to) – men who're well over 6' (I have a 'short girl complex')… lemme tell you that height dynamics makes certain positions complicated and sometimes, unintentionally hilarious.

Q—amalgamation of questions regarding what Sarah looks like in the first half:

A—she's 18, so she's reached her full height, but she's still filling out—has slim hips and breasts are still forming. I'm a 30D or 32C depending on the brand, and I didn't reach that cup size until I was 20/21 so I'm going to put Sarah in the same boat. I'm so curious as to when everybody else developed grown up breasts (b/c 'Sarah' always seems to have ginormo boobs at 18 in fanfics)…but that's one of those personal questions that I shouldn't ask strangers on the internet, or so I'm told, so I'm going to refrain (*curses curiosity*). She's pretty, still has baby fat on face, long, straight hair and eyebrows shaped just a bit better than the movie.

Sorry AN hater—I just had to put these in here—but next time onwards, I swear to keep my ANs only on tmblr. Unless I don't feel like it. Mehehe. But seriously though, the super long ones will go on tmblr.

PS - can we do a show of hands? Who's still reading this on ffnet? (also psst - the review format in Ao3 is a lot better).