A/N: So, here's a new Labyrinth story for you. This one should be longer for each chapter and as a whole. Hope you enjoy! Please review. ^^

DISCLAIMER: I'm pretty sure I've gone over this before...but just in case, no, I don't own the Labyrinth, Jareth, or Sarah. -wail-

Sarah's Proposition

She couldn't remember. She could never remember. And now, here she was facing the Goblin King in one final challenge. And she couldn't remember the stupid words. She glared, stuttering to a stop. He smirked, acknowledging his victory. The clock chimed thirteen times in agreement. Even with the castle blurring around her, Sarah knew this couldn't be the end. She reached out her hand, grasping thin air until she grappled hold of the starch cloth of his 15th century style jacket. Using her hold on him, she managed to pull herself out of the whirlwind meant to transport her home and stumbled forward. She shuddered from the exhaustion of fighting his magic and collapsed to her knees, literally at his feet. Her eyes closed as she struggled for breath.

"Sarah? Sarah precious, are you okay?" His voice caressed her, surprisingly close. His hand gently touched her shoulder, even more surprising.

She jerked away violently, the concern on his face frightening, "What do you care?"

Jareth leaned back, a sneer replacing his concern, "I do believe the time has come for you to leave, Sarah."

Wind swirling around her once more, Sarah screamed, "Jareth, please! Stop!"

But instead of taking her home, the uproarious wind lifted her off the floor to meet the King's frigid, mismatched eyes. "And how, exactly, would that benefit me?"

Sarah kept his gaze, "Because I have a proposition for you, one I believe you'll find quite—" Her lips curved into a small, tired smile. "—fair."

The corners of his mouth simultaneously lifted with his almost white eyebrows. "And just what exactly would I be getting out of this deal?" The wind brought her gently to the floor. Nonchalantly swiping her jeans, Sarah muttered something under her breath.

"What, precious? I couldn't hear you." The Goblin King smirked.

Her dark head suddenly lifted, stunning Jareth with the intensity of unbridled fear no longer hidden in the depths of her mossy eyes. "Me, Jareth, you'll get me."

"In exchange for what? Or should I say for whom?" Still, he couldn't help but mock her.

Sarah swallowed. "In exchange for me, you'll send Toby home to Dad and Karen."

He laughed. She offers to give up her freedom, and he laughs. Sarah gritted her teeth and clenched her fists to her side in a valiant effort to control her temper. Still chuckling, Jareth shook her head, "What fairytale are you living in now, Sarah—Beauty and the Beast?"

His mocking struck a chord. Her eyes flashed, "Well, you certainly act like a beast."

Jareth rolled his eyes and leaned closer, lifting a gloved hand to stroke her cheek, "Of course you would automatically assume that you're Beauty, wouldn't you, precious."

It wasn't a question. Sarah lifted her chin defiantly. "You do wear enough glitter to be Beauty, I suppose."

"And you're certainly immature enough to be the Beast, m'dear," Jareth countered, his gaze uncomfortably scrutinizing.

Sarah blinked. Her head tilted as she studied Jareth's face. Hadn't she grown up in the Labyrinth or did she just wish that she had? Sarah finally met his gaze, her eyes shimmering. Jareth narrowed his eyes. She did seem different; at the very least she was desperate—a very profitable type of desperation too. He'd never really wanted the little chap anyway.

"Please, Jareth, take me. I'll do whatever you say. You can do what you want with me—change me into a goblin, whatever," Sarah pleaded. "Whatever you want, Jareth, I'll do."

"Don't call me Jareth," The king replied instantly, his eyebrow finally raised, his smirk gone. So, he was taking her seriously now. Good. He was already ordering her around. Bad. Her chin lifted.

"Very well," Sarah finally responded, a bit too slow in Jareth's humble opinion. "What would you like me to call you then, Your Highness?"

Oh bother—she hadn't meant for the sarcasm to slip out. Jareth caught it too, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"That will do; but next time, Sarah," Jareth raised an imperious eyebrow. "without the tone."

Sarah smiled innocently, "What tone, Your Majesty?"

"That's better, peasant," Jareth snapped his fingers. Their surroundings transformed into a rather miniscule bedroom. Stone overwhelmed the ceiling, floor, and walls; but the trim rugs and lovely wall-hangings disguised the grey remarkably well. The solitary window allowed a refreshing breeze to air out the room. Nothing filled the gaping space of the window, and no furniture stood before it. Probably to protect any pieces from water damage. Though, Sarah wondered, slightly alarmed, did it even rain in the Underground? Shaking her head, Sarah resumed her tour of the room she presumed to be her new quarters. To her right, a canopy bed rested in all her glory, almost translucent curtains of all colors guarding the actual mattress. A tiny wooden desk, on top of which rested a small candle, stood guard just beside the royal bed. A large bureau holding a mirror clung to the opposite wall. Shelves, sparingly filled with four or five books, overwhelmed the remaining wall space. The wood, Sarah absently noted, all matched—the same rich deep cherry. Sarah turned toward the door and promptly stumbled backwards.

"Your Majesty," Sarah greeted, bowing slightly, vainly attempting to cover her surprise. How hadn't she noticed his presence? Why hadn't he said something? Didn't he have better things to do?

An amused expression graced his face, "You will report to the kitchen in one hour. Not one second more, Pr—easant."

Surprising revelation flitted across Sarah's face, but Jareth had already vanished.

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