Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth or any of the characters associated with the Labyrinth.
Warning: dubious consent, disturbing events. Potentially triggering topics. Graphic depictions of sexual acts and violence in this chapter.
AN: apologies. This update took longer than I had planned and I have no sob story to justify the delay. I have a new work project + had to take a couple of small vacations. Three microbreweries and a milkshake place have opened up next to my house = distractions and an increase in gym attendance. What can I say…life is hard?
Loved writing this. I so, SO wish there were more Laby fanfics based on fairy tales. Bluebeard would make an awesome fic. Or Rumpelstiltskin. Or Cinderella (with an evil king instead of prince charming). The Emperor's New Clothes would be hilarious (would kill to read this, imagine Jareth showing up for a date with Sarah, stark naked b/c he believes he's wearing some killer outfit).
Chapter 11: King of Hearts, II
His grin is absolutely victorious. "As my lady demands."
The Goblin King is merciful. For once. Instead of prolonging her agony, he devours her with the avid hunger of a man who has been starved for months. His tongue lashes against the pink, swollen folds of her flesh in long, measured strokes—his movements are quick, and his gaze does not waver.
Sarah's muscles clench at the look of dark promise in his eyes. If he hadn't secured her arms with magic, she would have run her fingers through his feathery hair—for now, all she can do is look at him helplessly as he pleasures her.
He continues licking her in hard, quick strokes until he feels her inner muscles tense as she reaches the point of imminent orgasm. Just then, his lips settle on her clit and he suckles the sensitive nub.
She teeters on the edge of release for a fraction of a second, until she feels his pointy teeth nibble on the sensitive flesh of her clitoris. The acute pain pushes her over the brink and she climaxes with a ferocity she's never experienced before. All the muscles in her body tighten to the point of pain…and then…
…release.
Writhing in ecstasy, a low, hoarse moan escapes her throat as ripples of overwhelming rapture wash over her body. The pulse at the base of her neck beats wildly and she struggles to breathe.
His dual eyes are almost black as he drinks her in voraciously—her skin flushed, hair spilled out, and nipples erect. Her luscious mouth opens and she gasps softly as the aftershocks of pleasure still shake her body. Jareth knows that he should leave her—giving her a taste of his considerable skills ensures that she will craves his touch in the future…but he doesn't.
He is too mesmerized by the writhing mortal to care about the consequences of his actions. Everything about her—her moans, her scent, her lust darkened gaze—renders him completely powerless. He wants… needs…to see her come undone. Again. And again. And again.
"Precious creature," Jareth murmurs against her ear, placing a soft kiss on her earlobe, "You will bend to my will soon enough." His fingers rub against her slick flesh, caressing her slit before slowly entering her.
Sarah cries out when he enters her with his fingers. "It's too soon," she whimpers—suddenly feeling unbearably sensitive, as if every nerve in her body has come alive.
"Is it?" he asks with a harsh grin, his tone as mocking as ever, and his movements unrelenting. He pumps two fingers in and out of her, his pace languid but steady.
Throwing her head back, Sarah lets out a series of short gasps when he touches the spongy tissue deep within her walls. She can't help but move her hips to his torturous rhythm, her inner muscles clamping against his fingers.
"That's it," Jareth murmurs, his voice low and seductive, as he teases her body into arousal again. "Get yourself wet for me, precious." His own muscles coil with sexual tension, his erection strains against the silky material of his pajama pants. He can't help but wonder how it would feel to bury himself within her.
His lips twist into a smile as he feels the walls of her cunt clasp his fingers. "You're about to come, aren't you?"
She opens her mouth but she cannot speak as sheer desire overpowers her senses.
His smile becomes feral and he tugs her hair, hard. "Answer me, precious."
"Yes," she manages to whisper.
"Then stop," he states, his voice deceivingly soft yet commanding. His fingers, however, ruthlessly continue pumping into her—building the knot of pleasure that throbs within her core. His palm presses against her mound, placing subtle pressure on her clit.
Is he fucking serious?
She grits her teeth, "I can't."
A slow laugh. "Oh, but you will, sweet Sarah. If you want me to…continue pleasing you, you will do as I say. Or would you rather I stopped?"
His words echo in her head—images of him spreading her legs wide and pushing into her, flood her mind. "Don't stop," she chokes out, biting her lower lip to keep herself from coming. The pain only heightens her pleasure, and she can feel herself going over the edge…almost. Miraculously, she's somehow able to stave off her pending orgasm—but when he adds a third finger and pumps in and out of her, she all but screams with frustration.
"You know what I'd like to do to you, precious?" Jareth whispers into her ear, his fingers now slowing down just enough to grant her some reprieve. "I'd like to flip you over and take you so hard, you would be sore for weeks. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Blood roars in her ears as new images of him fucking her come into the forefront of her mind. Jesus, he's going to drive her wild with desire. The throbbing in her cunt is painful—her muscles twitch with pre-orgasmic shocks.
Jareth continues speaking, his dulcet tones as smooth as fine silk. "I'd drive into you hard and fast, Sarah." His fingers quicken their pace and he smiles as her muscles clench his digits once again—signaling her state of arousal. "Do not come yet."
She tries telling him to fuck off, but an agonized gasp escapes her lips as soon as she opens her mouth. It takes her a few seconds before she finally finds her voice, "I can't fucking hold off, you bast-"
Rich, vibrant laughter interrupts her tirade. "You can, my sweet," he states definitively. His merciless fingers find the spongy tissue deep within her, and he starts rubbing against it.
Sarah lets out a sound between a moan and a growl. Her body is now bathed in sweat and her breaths come out in quick, wheezing pants. She can feel the throbbing knot sit tight within her lower abdomen, ready to spill into insurmountable pleasure.
He looks at her as if she's the most salacious sight he's ever seen, laid out before him like a decadent feast—her body taut from trying to hold off her orgasm. Her brow is scrunched up and her mouth is open—she's teetering on the brink of release, release that only he can grant. The thought gives him a sense of depraved satisfaction.
"Now, precious." That's all he says as he hooks his fingers within her while pressing onto her clit with the palm of his hand.
She lets go with a strangled moan. Wave upon wave of pleasure rolls through her as she sobs in relief. Sharp crests of euphoria pass through her body, and she grounds herself against his skilled fingers, prolonging her climax—his fingers continue their erotic assault until she is boneless, her body languidly stretched out until she is utterly spent.
Sarah looks up at him, surprised by the lust she witnesses in his dark gaze. If she had believed that he could gratify her hunger by giving her an orgasm, she is sorely mistaken. If anything, she wants him even more. The damn bastard seems to be a craving that will never be satiated.
"I shall see you tomorrow evening, precious," Jareth states, rising up to a sitting position, he knows full well that should he remain there a second longer, he is going to lose any semblance of self-control. It is a risk he knows he shouldn't take.
Eyes widening with surprise, she reaches for him. He can't leave now…it will render her plan useless. "Don't leave yet," she says, her voice breathless but firm, she knows she has to break through his defenses if she wants him to stay. "How many years have you watched me with other men, Jareth? How many times have you fucked me in your dreams?"
Images of her with her various mortal lovers flash through his mind. His already hardened cock throbs painfully as he feels an equal measure of red hot rage and burning lust. "Too many," his voice comes out hoarse.
"Then why leave now?" she asks, her voice taking on a sultry tone. "Don't you want to come inside me like you do in my dreams? Fucking me with wild abandon, releasing into me while I come around you."
He clenches his fists, her words threatening to drive him mad. "Is that what you want?"
She runs her hands down his chest, and up his neck. "More than anything else I've ever wanted." She sits up and runs the tip of her tongue against his nipple, smiling as she feels him shudder. "I wish," she whispers, placing her face inches from his—her lips hovering against his. "I wish the Goblin King would fuck me. Right now."
Jareth's eyes become solidly black for a second before he grips her shoulders with his hands and shoves her onto her back. "Be careful what you wish for, precious Sarah," he says with a feral grin, "It may come true."
Sarah lets out a startled gasp when he crushes his mouth to hers in a ruthless, searing kiss. His lips are harsh and unrelenting, as is his tongue as it explores her mouth in rough strokes. His hands part her legs before settling on her breasts, lightly tweaking both her nipples—the gentle touch is a direct contrast to his violent kiss.
He knows he should stop. That he should leave the girl in her sterile prison and take another lover to his bed, to satiate his hunger…but he knows he can't. He is too far gone, and nothing, no one, is going to alleviate his lust apart from her. With an almost frustrated roar he vanishes his pants and plunges himself into her in hard but measured thrusts.
She moans into his mouth, losing herself to his rhythm. She feels herself grow wetter and slicker with every hard thrust, and at some point, she doesn't know whether she feels pleasure or agony.
He takes in a deep breath as her breasts press against his chest, her hardened nipples pressing against his skin. He can't get enough of her hot mouth or the feel of her skin against his—he wants to lose himself within this mortal woman…and so he does. He pounds into her until he feels her muscles tighten around his cock, he moves a hand down between them and lightly strokes her clit with the pad of his thumb.
She can't help but cry out when she feels her body tense once more before convulsing with ecstasy. The feeling of him inside her is almost unbearable when his thrusts become rougher and more frequent—she knows he's close as well. "Come inside me, Jareth," she whispers in his ear.
The Goblin King gives in to his own release as he follows his feral mortal's command and empties himself within her.
(Hours later)…
Jareth remains on her bed, crushing a feeble crystal against his palm as he contemplates his earlier actions. The bloody room, as useful as it is to house the mortal, shuns magic—so his own has become considerably weak with every second he spends here…even so, he hasn't left…yet.
Smiling bitterly to himself, he wonders just how he's ended up in the exact scenario he had wished to avoid. Though perhaps he already knows the answer to that—she'd asked him, taunted him, and like a fool, he had given in to his desires. He devoured her as she asked him to, but in doing so, she has indeed devoured him…
So distracted is he by his thoughts, that Jareth doesn't see Sarah stir beside him, and place her hands on his neck…his chest…her fingers too precise to be caressing. Fire burns in her jade eyes—she knows she has to act fast if she is to enact her plan, and this is a perfect opportunity. In fact, it's probably her only opportunity.
Moving as fast as she can, Sarah pulls out the pin she had unceremoniously stolen from one of Jareth's guests, and presses its sharp tip against the beating pulse of his neck. "Goblin King," she addresses him formally, with as much authority as she can muster, taking out her broken bracelet from underneath the pillow. "You will fix my bracelet and send me back to my grandmother's house, and you will end whatever it is that you did to me with the rotten peach."
A flash of surprise passes through Jareth's impassive face before his lips stretch into a lazy, indifferent smile. If he weren't in such a vulnerable position, he'd be impressed by her audacity—not many people had managed to surprise him in his long life.
"So you remember the peach," his voice is smooth, his tone deceptively mild. "Perhaps your memories are coming back after all."
Sarah's heart thuds erratically against her ribcage, her fingers tighten their grip on the pin. "Fix my bracelet," she repeats quietly, her steady voice belying the panic she feels inside.
Jareth merely raises a brow, as if he is completely unconcerned by her threat. "Are you sure you can harm me, precious? Seeing as how I can easily transport using magic…"
"Your magic is weak, Jareth," she smiles as his eyes narrow…is he really stupid enough to think she wouldn't notice? "There's something about this room, I can sense it. You feel different here than you do anywhere else in the castle. I'm guessing you've been here long enough that you can't transport using magic, or you would have done so already."
"Smart girl." His bares his teeth in a vicious grin. "Even if you do happen to kill me with your little weapon," he stresses the words disdainfully, "…how would you ever get back to your world?"
"Doesn't matter," Sarah replies, gritting her teeth, her resolve hanging by a thread. "I'll kill you regardless, and I'm guessing you don't want to lose your life, so restore my fucking bracelet."
Resonant laughter echoes against stark white walls. "You are such a precious little creature, aren't you? What a marvelous Queen you'll make," he says softly, a hint of amusement flashing in his dual eyes. "The irony in our story is that by consuming the maiden, the beast has condemned himself."
The beast has condemned himself…?
Her hands tremble for a split second before she tightens her grip—has he gone crazy? He seems to be speaking to himself. The bastard is probably trying to distract her. "I swear, I'll jam the damn thing right through your neck, Jareth."
An icy stare. "You would, wouldn't you?"
She pushes the pin further against his alabaster skin and applies a just a little bit of pressure. The warning in her eyes is indicative of her answer.
"I cannot salvage your thread, Sarah—only the maker can. As for sending you back…" he states with a grim smile, eyes intent on hers, "…you are the rightful proprietor of the Labyrinth, and as such, you will remain here."
Panic bubbles in her chest and rises up her throat the bitterness prevalent in his tone makes her believe he's telling the truth. "You don't want me here anymore than I want to be here," she tries reasoning with him, forcing herself to remain calm. "We should be working together to figure out how to break this."
That earns her a hostile laugh. "I've spent the last eight years trying to come up with a suitable alternative, sweet. What makes you believe you could contribute anything more?"
It's on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she's beaten him before so perhaps she can do it again, but she restrains herself. "I've surprised you so far, what do you have to lose? Maybe you can start by taking me to the Labyrinth." She doesn't know what she's going to do—but she has to try something. Perhaps she can start by begging the Labyrinth to switch 'proprietorship,' to use his word, back to Jareth.
He holds her challenging gaze for a few seconds before releasing a sigh. "Mortals are easily corrupted by power," he states, going off on a tangent she doesn't follow. "They leech onto the smallest trickle of magic. You, precious, have been given a tremendous amount of magic…power you can never be trusted with."
She gapes at him, thinking it's ridiculous for him to complain about mortals leeching onto power when he seems to have made her life hell solely for power. A sudden thought enters her head and she cannot stop herself from asking, "I'm guessing the power reverts back to you when I become Queen consort?"
A calculated glance. "In a manner of speaking."
"What do you plan on doing with me then?"
His expression turns dead cold, causing an odd feeling to creep up her spine. "What do you believe I would do?"
Her breath catches in her throat—he can do anything he damn well pleases.
A slow, cruel laugh, "You're trembling, precious."
She swallows the lump in her throat. "You could kill me."
"My dear, what you must think of me. I'm not such a heartless beast." His dual eyes are alight with vicious amusement, and his tone is mocking.
"I don't believe you."
Jareth lets out a harsh sigh—this conversation isn't leading anywhere useful. "Believe what you like, foolish girl. Time is mine to command, and you are a mortal, a weak one at that. Your death need not occur by my hands. However, it's only fair that your life would be…contained. We don't want you causing havoc in the Goblin City, like the last time, do we?"
Contained?
Comprehension dawns in her eyes as she understands the full meaning of his words. He'll keep her locked up, probably in this room. She may as well be a living zombie. The thought gives her strength to carry on with her plan.
"You don't trust me," she states rather than asks.
A laconic brow. "You stabbed me with my own knife—missed my heart by a small distance. I'd be a fool to trust you," his tone is gently reproaching, as if he's explaining things to a child. "Mortals do not mix well with magic, let alone an ancient, timeless magical entity that is the Labyrinth. Perhaps the power will corrupt you…perhaps you'd try using it to make your dreams come true."
His words ignite a bright flame of anger in her chest. "I don't even know what my dreams are, thanks to you," she hisses. "I've spent the last eight years of my life freaking out about my hallucinations getting worse."
Jareth shrugs, indifferent to her experiences. "Have you really?"
She lets out a growl of anger as it suddenly occurs to her that that was probably his goal. To drive her insane…slowly. "If you had to have me as Queen consort, you wanted to make sure that I was barely functional." Her face hardens and her gaze turns fierce. "You've failed, Goblin King—I'm not that easily broken."
He wants to laugh at her pathetic display of rage, but the pin held tightly against his pulse stops him. How, in all the realms, had the mortal obtained a copper pin was beyond him—but with the right amount of pressure, he knows that the pin can injure him gravely.
"Clearly not," he agrees, hoping to soothe her temper. "However, you cannot keep me hostage on your bed forever…perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement, Sa-rah."
She raises her brows in question. An agreement?
"I shall take you to the Labyrinth, where you will be given one chance to relinquish your hold. Should you succeed, I shall take you back to your world…" he bares his teeth, his tongue running against the pointy tips as he pauses…"and should you fail, you will become Queen consort without any delay."
She narrows her eyes. "How do I know you're not lying?"
"That pathetic little weapon of yours is ineffective, precious," he says with a derisive laugh, it's not exactly the truth, but not exactly a lie either. "I have no reason to humor you with this particular arrangement—I'm doing so out of choice, hoping that you'll stop fighting me once your efforts prove to be futile."
The dead seriousness of his tone convinces her that he's telling the truth. Her hand wavers a bit as she decides her next steps. She doesn't know if she has it in her to thrust the pin into his beating pulse…and even if she did, he is correct in stating that she has no other way of getting back. She nods, finally relenting, after considering her options.
"Could you?" he asks, holding out his hand, indicating she surrender her 'weapon.'
"If my little weapon is so ineffective, why do you want it?" she asks, refusing to relax her hold.
"Very well," he says with a nonchalant shrug. "Keep it."
"Will you give me your word that you won't forcefully take it from me?" She exerts a little more pressure on the pin, studying his reaction.
"Yes," he says through gritted teeth. The mortal is much smarter than he had originally thought she would be.
She finally lowers the pin—noticing the breath of air he releases afterwards, ever so slowly.
Jareth moves to leave her room, annoyed that she's manipulated him into letting her keep the damned pin. No matter, he will take it from her the next chance he gets. "Get dressed," he commands indicating her own clothes that remain folded, in one corner of the otherwise bare room. "I shall return within the hour."
(Many hours later, deep within the Labyrinth)…
Sarah lets out a scream in frustration as sweeping pain engulfs her senses. She's tried communicating with the Labyrinth for hours, and yet, her efforts have proved to be futile, just as he had told her.
A slow smirk twists the Goblin King's lips as he rests his back languidly against a gnarled tree, eyeing his mortal with quiet intensity. Communicating with the Labyrinth is painful, even for his kind—for a human, the pain would be worse. "As I said, precious Sarah, there is no point."
"Wait," she begs, shutting her eyes, trying to focus. "Five minutes…please." So far, she's only been able to feel some vague emotions in her mind…and even then, she doesn't quite know whether they're her own emotions, or the Labyrinth's.
"Very well." A smile curls his lips as he sees her wince. Poor little Sarah—her frail body trembling in pain. Blood rushes to his groin, and he feels himself harden at the sight. There's something about seeing her suffer that excites him.
Amidst the mind numbing pain that sweeps through her body, she can feel a sense of helpless struggling—a restless movement—almost like a fish that's been pulled out of water, its body beating against the air. Sarah concentrates on that feeling—'what do I have to do to be free?'
Free….
She hears the word clearly in her mind…the restless movement becomes stronger. She now feels as if she's tightly bound and struggling with all her might to break free of the bonds.
'Yes, free. What do I have to do?' she repeats her words.
Free…
The sensation becomes even stronger and she feels suffocated. Can it…? Is it possible that the Labyrinth isn't repeating her, but that it wants to be free? Of her? Of Jareth?
The next thought comes to her mind instinctively. 'I'll set you free if you tell me how to get out of this place.'
Free…
She grits her teeth—why isn't the damned thing responding? 'How the fuck do I get out of this place?!'
Everything goes quiet for a few seconds, and she's left wondering if the Labyrinth is gone, before a strong wind crashes into her.
'Pierce the King's heart, rip out your essence, and you shall be free of him.' The Labyrinth speaks in her mind, but her ears hurt, as if someone's been shouting directly into them. The pain increases and she holds her hands against her ears.
Pierce his heart…how?...and with what? She has been resourceful enough to place the pin in her pocket…but then, he'd told her that the pin was ineffective. Still, seeing as to how that is the only weapon she has on herself, she decides to try and use it.
"Sarah?"
Just like that, the pain stops and she finds herself looking directly into the Goblin King's calculating gaze.
Keeping silent, he stares back at her, eyes glittering with cold emotion. "The Labyrinth spoke to you." His voice is edged with a specific sharpness she hasn't heard from him before. "What did it say?"
Keep calm, Williams…you get one chance, keep – the fuck – calm.
She comes up with a quick lie. "It said I was bound forever," she whispers, her voice shaky. Her eyes dart to his chest. She can still hear the Labyrinth's raspy voice in her head, 'Pierce the King's heart.' Her fingers grip the pin in her pocket. "I guess I failed."
He walks towards her with a slow smile. "Don't look so rattled, precious creature. Your life here will be…adequate…as long as you do not cross me."
Pierce the King's heart.
Standing next to her, Jareth holds out a gloved hand. "Come, we shall return to the castle."
She looks him in the eyes, her breathing surprisingly calm, in spite of her tumultuous internal dialogue.
One chance, Williams, you only get one chance. Do not fuck it up.
And just like that, her limbs move, as if by their own accord, and she pushes the sharp, metallic pin right into Jareth's beating heart with as much force as she can manage before springing away from him.
To say the Goblin King is shocked is an understatement. His bow shaped lips part in pain as the pin pierces his chest. Still, the weapon isn't large enough to be fatal, so he staggers only for a few seconds before he is able to pull it out. Face contorting with rage, he lunges for the foolish mortal who has stabbed him not once, but twice.
Sarah jumps out of his reach—the terrifying expression of fury on his face makes her blood freeze. "Send me back," she shouts loudly at the Labyrinth, without bothering to speak into her mind silently as she'd done before.
Set me free, mortal…
She screams as she runs for her life, away from the raging monarch, as fast as she can. "You're free of me, I declare you free. Just fucking send me back."
We require a blood sacrifice…
Blood sacrifice? Stupid fucking maze! Couldn't the damned thing have told her about the blood sacrifice earlier?
Distracted by her racing thoughts, Sarah stumbles on a pebble—she braces her fall with her arms, but one foot twists underneath her weight. Raw pain emanating from her right ankle stops her from standing up and she lifts up her jeans to see that the ankle is twisted in an unnatural angle, blood pools to the surface, but the skin doesn't break. Tears bite her eyes as she realizes she's helpless.
"My poor darling," Jareth lilts as he stalks towards her, his pace graceful and leisured, as if he has all the time in the world. His clothing remains unmarred, as if she'd never stabbed him through the heart.
She whimpers, trying to drag her body away from him.
His dual gaze blazes in victory—she looks so utterly defeated. "I suppose I should thank you as you did manage to dislodge yourself from within my cold, cold heart." He smiles a disarming smile, a smile that would have been charming were it not paired with the look of icy fury in his eyes.
She raises her eyes to meet his, unable to speak a single word. How the fuck had the bastard managed to heal himself so quickly? How had she ever thought she stood a chance against him?
His smile deepens as he sees her panic, his razor sharp teeth reflect the silvery glow of moonlight. "This isn't very fortunate for you, precious, as I no longer possess the…shall we say, emotions…to be even the slightest bit concerned for your wellbeing."
Her eyes widen even more. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Did that mean he'd kill her? Or perhaps worse?
"What do I fucking do?" she screams out loud at the Labyrinth, not caring that she looks like a stark raving lunatic.
We require a blood sacrifice…
"I don't know about you," Jareth answers her query even though the question isn't meant for him. "I, however, think it's time you were better acquainted with my dungeons."
She doesn't stop to think—perhaps it's seeing him display his teeth or her own primal sense of self-preservation when he mentions his dungeons—she pierces her skin with the only tools she has at her disposal. With as much strength as she can manage, she bites into the fleshy part of her forearm…as if she's a savage beast feasting on her own flesh.
Eyeing her strange actions curiously, he doesn't quite realize what she's doing until he sees her squeeze her flesh. He dives for her, damning himself for ever having brought her to the Labyrinth in the first place…
…only to find empty space. He's too late, drops of her blood have been absorbed by the Labyrinth and the bargain is complete.
The last thing she sees is the Goblin King's wild face, coming straight at her, before her world turns black.
AN: Epilogue remaining. What becomes of J? Does S get her memories back? I'm surprised by the number of favorites/followers/kudos/bookmarks this fic has received. Wasn't expecting it at all. Thank you all!
Closing notes:
Wanted to do a Labyrinth version of Red Riding Hood with sex and a few mystic elements from various different kinds of folklore. The color red is quite prevalent in so many different cultures so it was easy finding some elements I could incorporate into the storyline.
I will put up a detailed explanation at the end of the epilogue—I don't include long backstories (or even short ones) in my storylines b/c I tend to tl;dr those parts when I read other people's fics. In the meantime, you can review or PM if you're really curious about something.
Honestly, this was supposed to be horror and sex with minimal plot—but the plot just kinda creeped up and couldn't be ignored. I don't think I'm meant to write 'only sex' stories, I got thoroughly bored with writing sex scenes by the end of it! I was like 'tongue, clit, penis, penetration, orgasm, the end.'
A reader on Ao3 asked me whether Jareth was Seelie or Unseelie (as he has characteristics of both)—to which I replied that I never use the term Fae in my fanfics…so neither. However, in my mind, I've always seen Jareth as a dark elf with incubus like qualities. A blend of a few magical entities.
Regarding Sarah—I normally hate writing a super young Sarah, but I needed her to have a certain amount of naivety, especially in the beginning. An older person would have shut Dr. Varg's weird psychotherapy down fairly quickly. Anyways, told you guys she'd fight back eventually—I'm not too big a fan of damsels in distress who can't rescue themselves.
Regarding Jareth—he tormented Sarah b/c he could, and he hoped it would weaken her, and he feeds off sexual energy (esp hers). He had been searching for a way to get the Labyrinth back but was unsuccessful. He really did not want to make her Queen (even consort) b/c he's not the type to share what's his and she's beaten him, so he's afraid she'll do it again—but he kinda has no choice.
Is he evil? I'd say so. He wants to keep the power she's won from him for himself. And he's willing to screw with her life in order to do so. He could always be more evil and torture/starve her, but he's not going to do that unless he absolutely has to—and until this point, he didn't. Had Sarah been unable to escape the Labyrinth…then…well, I don't want to venture there.
Also—Soulmates—the idea that a part of the essence of a person (half a soul, if you will) being inside another, is a terrifying prospect. I wanted to touch upon that as well. People seem to have a very romantic notion of 'soulmates' and I wanted to show a different perspective. It's almost as if a stronger soul has devoured a weaker one, no?
Lastly—Mental Health. Cray cray Sarah stuck in a 1890s style lunatic asylum is a common trope in Laby fandom, but I wanted to show a more realistic side of modern day mental health care (and mental health care professionals). People aren't institutionalized or forced into getting ECT guys. Come on. Doctors = generally good guys.
Closing Q and As:
Q: If Sarah is so unnaturally thin, how does she have breasts?
A: I see her BMI as somewhere b/w 16 (Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany's) and 17 so she's not emaciated. Breast size is determined by E/T ratio, not just body fat. Was not expecting this question though, haha. *hem hem* the theory that one has to be of a specific (ehem, large-ish) size to have curves = false. Assume she's a 34B—would probably be a 34C at a healthier weight.
Q: Why wasn't Sarah jealous when Jareth was making out with that other woman?
A: B/c she thinks he's a crazy psycho (albeit a sexy one) and is focused on escaping him? If I gave the impression that Sarah is in love with, and wants to get married to, this particular Jareth and have 2.5 kids, then I did a miserable job writing the story.
Q: Jareth hasn't tortured or abused or starved Sarah, or turned her into a servant—he's making her Queen, so why is she fighting him instead of appreciating everything he's done?
A: Seriously? Those are some low standards. Should Sarah say 'a crazy but sexy man is providing me with food and a powerless title = zomg, I'm so happy he hasn't turned me into a house elf or a sex slave, I should fall at his feet'…?
Jareth has screwed with her life for the last eight years—she's lived in fear of growing more and more insane. Of course she's going to fight him.
Q: (more like a statement) you come across as a bitchy snob based on your ANs:
Lol, I regret nothing. The ANs were fun to write—I have an innate love for pissing off pearl clutchers, and poorly dressed liberal arts grad students and school teachers.
And young people—sex and coke (sex + E would be a better combo, but you never know what you're getting with E). Take that pill in Ibiza. Carpe diem. Take some Café Patron shots too.
Last but not least: to all the trolls—
Haha, got some interesting feedback regarding the fic and my ANs. One person suggested I must be really damaged—which made me LOL as I've actually lead a fairly privileged life. In fact, nothing traumatic has ever happened to me except for one flight to Bali where the fucking plane went into freefall for a few seconds. I'm one of those optimistic, bubbly, carefree people and I'm always smiling. Probably why I like dark stuff.
But, I totally understand the need to psychoanalyze authors. I always get taken aback when women in their 40s/50s write fanfics about really young women getting spanked by father like romantic interests. What is it? Absent daddy issues? In-love with daddy issues? Married to Ned Flanders-type so sexual frustration issues? What? Alas, I do not know and it will forever remain a mystery.
Anyways, point being—trying to psychoanalyze fanfic writers = pointless.