I felt like after reading so many wonderful Labyrinth pieces, it was time to try my hand at this one shot. I must warn you, it switches from third to first person about one sixth of the way in. For storytelling reasons.

My Jareth is a tad different from the David Bowie one. It is the same character, grant you, I've made a few physical changes. My inspiration came from this DA piece by Mercuralis. .com/art/Jareth-Leather-and-Velvet-49419529

I highly suggest you check it out.

DISCLAIMER: Labyrinth isn't mine, blah blah blah. References to other piece of fiction aren't mine either blah blah blah.

Now please, enjoy!

And review.

Yeah.

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He reminded her of a lion. Or an eagle. Some noble, kingly creature with his wild gold mane and sharp, predatory eyes. She wasn't sure she liked the shivering her body was prone to do when those eyes were turned upon her.

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Jareth the Goblin King had ruled the Underground's Labyrinth for over five thousand years by the time Sarah had shown up. They had been prosperous, fairly peaceful years. The Labyrinth had expanded and renovated in that time, becoming a friendlier sort of place than it had been in his father's reign. Jareth wasn't one for the cobwebs and monsters. He preferred beautiful things, ironic and ridiculous objects rather than the horrific images his predecessor liked. Not only was he fond of the changes, but his citizens certainly were as well. Although there were still some who compared his firm rule to that of Globberhook the Bloody, who had rule twelve thousand years previously. But these inconstant persons typically lived outside of the Goblin City, so they didn't see the vast living improvements he'd made. True, he had created the Bog, and kept up the oubliettes. But those were really just set up so that he might occasionally make good on his threats. No one was guillotined, and he'd done away with public torture. Really, they had no reason to complain.

He was acknowledged, by many, to be a just and great king, loved by his people. He was revered for the creation of a fair court, the creation of the castle beyond the goblin city, and the destruction of the Labyrinth's bored army to form a militia and solid palace guard. But Sarah had spent most of her time in the Labyrinth with those who had a negative view of the King. She had never spoken to the cityfolk, or the goblins. If she had, she would have been assured of the King's generous nature, noble heart, quick wit…

But no. She was not exposed to any of this. Sarah retained her ill ideas of the enchanting King. He became the villain in her stories, the shadow in her dreams, the dark memory in the back of her mind that cause her to check twice behind her shoulder when out alone at night. Jareth was given a bad name from the start, and there was little he could do to change the impressionable girl's opinion of him.

It was a late summer trip to the lake when they met again. Sarah had a long-standing open invitation to her grandmother's lakeside cabin. When the week had been long, the stress too much, she drove the hundred miles armed with marshmallows, canned soup and tea. It was secluded from the other lake's tourist-y, motorboat-loving residence, for it stood on the far side of the waters, which tended to be a rockier area. One had to take the winding gravel backroads, which was far from safe. That, coupled with frequent bear and wolf sightings, made the cabin a bit of an adventure.

Her father and stepmother tended to worry when she went out there, often calling and basically never leaving hearing rang of their phones until she managed to return to them in one piece. The one time Sarah came home with an injury (a long cut going up her calf from stumbling whilst hiking), she had never heard the end of it. They'd even gone as far as to suggest stopping by the ER for stitches, though Sarah hadn't seen the need.

It was summer. June, to be exact. Classes at the private liberal arts university Sarah attended were out for break. She had a summer job working in a used bookstore downtown, One Good Read. It was a musty place, filled with beat up romance novels, yellow-paged textbooks, and water-stained cookbooks. A hippy woman owned the store, or at least, that's what Sarah called her, besides Clara, her name. She wore round spectacles, braided belts with broomstick skirts and woven sandals. Hemp and shell necklaces adorned her spectacularly colourful silk peasant blouses, and her waist-length hair was rarely out of its braid. Sarah thought her to be quite wonderful indeed. She regularly worked Monday-Thursdays, which meant she saw Clara almost every day.

The day was Thursday, and it was one of those rare days when Clara left to a book auction in the next county over, leaving Sarah and Michelle, Clara's snotty niece, to run the store themselves. While running the bookshop was usually nice, Michelle could easily (and often) prove that the efforts of one person can turned any situation into a complete circus. She pissed off two customers, knocked over two rows from their rickiest shelf, spent most of her time behind the register talking to Darian, her jock-loser boyfriend, and lost the two post-its messages Sarah had left Clara, from the pharmacy down the street when they called about her prescriptions.

Needless to say, Sarah hadn't been particularly pleased with her coworker. But she held her tongue till closing, and screamed into her pillow once she reached her apartment.

Really, she could've screamed anywhere she liked. Both her roommates, Jessie and Laurel, were gone for the week. Jessie to visit her out-of-state family, Laurel for a college service project in Rwanda. She had the entire place to herself for over seven days. Still, it wasn't…enough. She felt lonely in the small apartment, surrounded by other humans going through their daily lives while she lazed about in silence.

She had been so grateful for privacy when she moved out of her father and Karen's house. The floral, picture-perfect nightmare had suffocated her. While she loved her family dearly, it was time to leave. Even sharing with two other people was vast improvement—they could reasonably respect her boundaries, without being entirely disinterested in her health and well-being. It was paradise, really, in comparison. Her family was less than fifteen minutes away, but far enough not to see every day. She could actually have time to miss them. Truly, it was brilliant.

And yet…even all alone, Sarah felt claustrophobic. She needed air and space and peace. Glancing at the kitchen clock, she realized it was only five o'clock. If she left in the next half hour, she could be at the lake by seven. Honestly, the only thing that could fix the hellish day was some peace and quiet, so why not take a 3-day weekend? Nothing was going on for the next few days, and she wouldn't be missed.

Making up her mind, Sarah stood and practically flew to her room, snatching a worn duffle from the closet. She was sufficiently packed in about fifteen minutes, and was out the door in five more. With a trip to the grocery store and a quick call home she would be set for the weekend. Then all she would need to do was a quick call to both her roommates, giving them an f.y.i. in case they called the flat.

When Sarah finally started her calls, she was halfway out of town, making it near-impossible to stop her. Karen was nearly hysterical.

"Did you not read about those bear attacks last week in the paper?" She shrieked into the phone.

Sarah pulled the receiver away from her ears, grimacing. "That was last year. In Michigan."

"I don't care. It's dangerous out there, all on your own, Sarah! For god's sake you couldn't take anyone with you? Or at least given us some warning, and we might've gone too?"

"It was kind of a last minute thing. And I wouldn't take just anyone to Nana's cabin."

"I think Nana wouldn'tve cared who you brought to her cabin, so long as you were safe."

Sarah rolled her eyes. Nana wouldn't have just cared, she would've rolled in her grave.

"If you and Paul were still together…didn't you say you were still friends?"

That was her cue to sigh and explain that yes, she was still friends with her ex-boyfriend, but no, she was not inviting him to spent a summer weekend alone with her on the lake. Why? "Because I don't want to send him the wrong impression, Karen. Listen, I'm sorry but I've got to go. Driving and talking cell phones isn't a good idea, right? Okay? See you Sunday night."

The cell was dropped with resolute intention onto the passenger seat, where it would remain for the next hour and forty-five minutes. Chances were, her two roommates wouldn't be calling over the next two days—after all, they hadn't in the two weeks they'd already been gone. She wasn't going to worry about it. They had an answering machine, and at worst they could always try her cell. This weekend was going to be about her. Her peace of mind, her sanity, her relaxation.

The cabin came into sight after a treacherous twenty-five minute drive through the woods. It looked the same as always, eternal and sheltered. A place of rest. It was a great old house, hand built, with a good, solid stone foundation her great-great-somethings had dug up themselves and hauled to the site. There was a fireplace, a bedroom, a small bathroom, loft/attic, and a general open room which housed a kitchen, dining table, and living room sort of space. Modern updates had been applied accordingly.

Sarah snagged her old duffle and climbed out of the car. Once she reached the porch, she searched her ring of keys to find the brass bit, and stuck it in the lock. The door creaked open slowly, and she was hit with the smell of dust, pine, and lavender. Faded golden light softly fell through the window on the back wall, sparkling bits reflected off the lake dancing across the old pane of glass. She crossed to stand by the window, and pushed back the thin curtains. Two blue-green dragonflies chanced each other over the amber water. None of the noise motor boats were out. Her entire line of sight was void of human life.

What peace.