Sarah watched in dismay as another gust of wind teased her disheveled hair. She raked through the tangled strands, emitting a string of unladylike curses. Her eyes burned with green, liquid fire when she failed at straightening her tousled mane.
She bit her lip in visible frustration. Why in God's name did she have to be here? Wasn't this merely a child's dream that her crazed mind created long ago, a dream that somehow allowed a much-needed transition from an imaginative child to sensible adult? True that she was barely eighteen, but still a sensible adult nonetheless…
She had a driver's license, a small grant that provided the tuition for this semester, a list of responsibilities that she handled successfully, and a host of friends that cared for her. Sarah felt her world complete. Whole. There was nothing more to life than the harsh reality of surviving in a world without the faith in something that did not exist.
The Goblin King, his minions, and every other fictional character were created for the entertainment for those who detested a rainy day. Delving into a world of fantasy was fun when you knew it was only a means of escaping boredom.
This little rendezvous in Dream Land was nothing more than a thought created from her consciousness. A smile tinged with bittersweet irony traced her lips. Of course, it was triggered by Toby's harmless threat. Shaking her head in silent derision, she viewed her temporary aggravation with mock humour.
It was interesting to make an ass of yourself in your personal dream.
An unwilling laugh contradicted her dismal surroundings. Her eyes jeer at the sight of her deranged dream. Perhaps a visit down memory lane seemed to be a good idea; she had nothing better to do at the moment, anyway. Well, until she awoke from this undesired fantasy.
She cracked her knuckles and grinned. This was insane. Actually, insane wasn't the word for this momentary bout of madness. But, there was no one here to judge her actions, no doctors in the crisp, white lab coats coming to restrain her with a tranquilizer. No one. Maybe she would unravel this mysterious reoccurrence of dreams, and finally her sardonic nemesis, something that haunted her mind for the past three years…
"There is certainly a method to my madness," she murmured to herself, mentally winking at a tragic Danish prince. "Perhaps I'll play the part of a saintly heroine once more."
She snorted at the base remark. If her memory served her, she was anything but saintly on her last quest. Toby would laugh at her wondrous display of pathetic chivalry. Rescuing him from a 'dangerous' villain with a terrible case of eighties hair would be clichéd in itself, the banal impact would certainly enthrall the boy for hours.
It was better to keep such simplistic—not to mention embarrassing—things saved for another day. Perhaps she would confess it to him when he was recovering from an inevitable break up with a fickle girlfriend, or suffering from the consequences of his first hangover.
Toby would be the bane upon his parents one day. Of that she had no doubt. Her father and Karen would have a shit fit once he started associating with a wilder crowd. It was inevitable, of course. Every male hit that certain point in his life, where life seemed better when dancing on the edge of a knife's blade.
She somewhat dreaded to see what her sweet little brother would one day become. It was hard to imagine that he was already four. Where did the time go? It felt like yesterday that her brother came home from the hospital, tightly rapped in baby blanket.
And now, here he was, wreaking havoc upon his parents. It was good to see someone take after her rebellious ways, albeit in a more childlike manner. Toby would certainly surpass her desired expectations.
It was rather strange to think upon such things in a dream, but when were dreams ever equitable? Truthfully, her dreams were more realistic as of late. Why would they suddenly shift to fanatical whims that a child indulged itself in? Wasn't it illogical to dream something twice, and yet, different at the same time?
The Labyrinth was different from her last interlude; the land and its surroundings seemed more arid, dilapidated. Gone was the magic and splendour the land once obtained. In its place was a dull wasteland filled with invisible despair.
She closed her eyes briefly, trying to assure herself that it was impossible to feel something that was not there. People could not feel intangible emotions in dreams—especially in dreams. God, she was losing her mind—in a senseless delusion, no less.
A cool wind collided against her prone form, forcing her to return from her silent reverie. She watched as dead, dried leaves swirled in an invisible zephyr, the rustle scratching against anything solid. She absently kicked aside a loose paving stone with her boot.
The Labyrinth certainly lost its luster; she gave it that. Even though she was considered a mature adult, she still enjoyed fantasy. Every sagacious girl dreamt of living in a land rich with beauty and be adored by a loving crowd. Every confident girl wanted to marry the prince of their dreams and have a happily ever after. Every idealistic girl wanted her wishes to come true, and that included Sarah.
But this was not her choice of a place to live, nor the loving crowd she wanted. Who would want to live in a world that fell into decay, harboured countless imaginary creatures, and had no running water? Who would want to live in a world where there was nothing but the endless days of constant doubt and endless disbelief? But most of all, who would want to live with their arch enemy?
Instead of a handsome prince that every woman desired, there was a cynical Goblin King that pleasured in others' pain. A veritable devil in gaudy attire, one would say. He was far from a just and benevolent lord; he was a true tyrant with a cruel heart.
His attitude was not the only negative aspect about him; his very existence was unnerving. From his ungodly mismatched eyes to the callous sneer upon his aquiline features, the Goblin King was more of a villain than hero. How could he ever be anything more?
She mentally scolded herself for the traitorous thought. It was ludicrous to dwell upon things that were unimportant, not to mention foolish. There were handsome, available men begging to be her prospective boyfriend, and here she was, pondering upon a man that did not exist. Even in dreams she could petty.
"Come on, Sarah, get a grip," she admonished herself. "This is all just a dream, just a bloody dream that you need only awake from. Confront the bastard, and you'll be free from this…"
Her confident words flitted into the wind, and were carried to the far corners of the realm. She forced herself to press on, stepping over a series of dead branches and other debris. Her eyes focused upon the small, shell-like castle in the distance, her self-confidence fading fast. Before it was over, she would come to regret ever seeing another shred of fictitious literature.
Stabbing onward, she silently cursed the Goblin King's forgotten name. Oh, he would regret this. By hell, he would pay for taking her dream and turning it into a nightmare…
"Goblin King, if you're listening, I want you to know something," Sarah shouted to the silent heavens. "I will defeat you again, even though this just a silly dream my mind conjured up!"
Smiling to herself, she took another step, quickly noticing the rapidly forming cracks in the stonework. Like an unexpected earthquake, the landscape's fragile structure began to falter and break. Stones and other debris fell into the large cracks, as a shockwave of motion caused her to lose her balance.
"Oh God," she thought. "Why is this happening? What have I done to deserve this?"
****
Tired eyes hesitantly opened to the sight of a cold stone floor. The dark hall was silent except for the steady ticking of a gilded clock on opposite wall, the dagger-shaped dials displaying a quarter past three. Cerulean and hazel blurred from the sight of the timepiece. Time, now and again, was truly a headache.
A sigh betrayed the hallowed silence of the hall, as if predicting the impending arrival of something dire. Idle hands rose to clasp the sides of an emotionless face. Like a man having too much to drink, the languid figure staggered to regain composure.
Steadying himself like a broken puppet, he leaned against a battle-worn chair. A gloved hand quietly massaged his aching temples, as he tried to remember today's unexpected events.
Sarah. He had her within his grasp. A wan smile traced his crooked lips. She was his to do with as he wished. But God, she made quite an impact. Not to mention changed the course of the Labyrinth's imminent destruction. Perhaps she would be the catalyst in this bout of survival.
He knew she reasoned that this was merely a dream, had cast aside her childish beliefs long ago. She was ready for a rude awakening. It did not matter if she was hurt in the process—survival was the most important thing. So many depended upon him, and he would be damned if he failed them.
His rival would pay for her treachery, not just against the Labyrinth, but also against him. The game was straightforward, the rules simple. The ending, however, was not how it was supposed to be—the Labyrinth was not intended to be destroyed in the process. Fate, it seemed, did not come without a sense of bittersweet irony.
God, when did he become so maudlin? It was not his nature to spout poignant poetry over the fate of his world. Nor would he portray his nemesis in a different light. He would save the Labyrinth, no matter the consequence. He would see this to the end.
Jareth subconsciously summoned a small crystal in his right hand, the cool smooth surface gracing the scarred leather of his palm. He idly glanced at the translucent bauble, and spun it in a playful gesture. The crystal sphere rolled against his hand until he braced it against his lean fingers.
A small image of fuming female caught his inequitable gaze. A grin reached one side of his mouth. So, the chit was muttering profanities about him. Even if the wench had lost her conviction in this place, she did not lose her fiery potency. And that was a challenge he would greatly love to have.
The girl had filled out quite nicely, he admitted. She reminded him of an impish fae that burned her father's palace with a fire spell. In the story however, the naughty princess was punished, but later released from her sentence. Women always got out everything. However, Sarah would not be so fortunate. No, she would not easily escape the punishment he had in mind.
He noticed her stop and shout to the heavens, her face contracting anger and rage. His notions of retribution ended as he watched his adversary say something that concerned the Labyrinth. Jareth's dark gaze hardened, his interest on her muted threat. It was a pity that crystals did not convey sound.
A loud rumble from outside confirmed his fears. Sarah had denied the Labyrinth's existence once again. An unwilling growl of frustration escaped him. He cursed to every known deity in the Underground. God, why did she have to be difficult? Why did Sarah have to be such a pain in the royal ass?
He muttered a vial oath and threw the crystal against the wall, where it shattered into countless fragments of glass. Clenching his pointy teeth, he glared at the broken bauble. It was a shame that it was not Sarah lying in the crystal's place, all broken and useless, but that could be remedied soon enough.
Without thinking, he pulled his cape around his tense form, and disappeared from the throne room. Oh, Sarah would pay, he thought wickedly. She would pay with more than her worthless soul had to offer, he would take her very existence.
By the gods, Sarah would regret the day she ever found out about the realm of fantasy.
****
Sarah watched in silent dread as the damage swept across the landscape. The land looked devoid of life, and on the verge of collapse, but she did not realize it would slip so fast. It wasn't a minute after she voiced her disbelief in the place that it began to crumble.
She shook her head in uncertainty. No, her words had no effect in this dream. It was impossible, not to mention absurd. Biting her lip in irritation, she thought of the possible reasons for such a drastic change in the environment.
The Goblin King.
Her mind muttered the name with silent disdain. Of course, the cruel bastard was behind this. This was only a scare tactic to frighten her into submission. Well, he would not have the pleasure of seeing her fail. No, she refused for him to have the upper hand.
She jutted her chin in confidence. "I will not cower to such an arrogant, audacious prick that is nothing more than a—"
"Oh, how you do go on, Sarah dear." A masculine voice muttered dryly.
Sarah hesitantly turned to face her menacing adversary. Her mind searched for a brave retort, while her heart betrayed her, its rampant beat pounding against her chest.
Jareth saved her from having to speak. Glaring at her, he said, "Oh, look, I've frightened the brave heroine," he commissioned a kingly sneer. "It seems that you're less than courageous—or better yet, foolish—without your mindless compatriots."
Inattentively, he touched her cheek with his callous glove, his strange eyes silently reading her. Feeling her unexpected shudder from his cool touch, he inwardly smiled. So, the girl was not so confident after all. It would be fun to see her slowly break under his shadow.
"So frightened," he murmured, his voice soothing her immobile form. "So powerless against me, aren't you, Sarah?" A solemn grin traced the edge of his crooked lips. "I do have power over you, my dear. Try to remember that."
Sarah bit her bottom lip in nameless fear. "No—no," she stuttered over her words. "You don't. You cannot!"
"Can't I?" He countered, a dangerous gleam within his mismatched eyes. "You no longer have the luxury to mutter those useless words, and expect to escape me. The rules are different this time, my dear, you are the prisoner now, and I very much doubt your brother will be your champion."
"But he didn't mean it!" Sarah wailed in disbelief. "You cannot do this! It's not—"
"Fair?" Jareth interrupted with a mocking chuckle. "Let me explain what fair is. Fair would have been you not—" He stopped in mid-sentence, as if realizing it was a mistake to tell her. "Fair is just a word, Sarah. Much like love, it has no meaning other than the thought placed behind it. It appears that you still need to learn a few things."
She glared at him, her stare murderous. He chided her like a child, like he did when she was fifteen. Shaking her head in anger, she turned her back on him. "I don't know why I'm wasting my time when I know this is—"
Jareth wrenched her around to face him. He did not care to see the panic within her eyes. "A dream? Do I look like a dream, Sarah? Do I feel like a dream to you?" He shook her shoulders with vicious intent. "Don't presume to deduce everything so lightly."
Sarah closed her mouth, and shut her eyes. She forbade herself to cry, especially in front of him. He was right; this wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare, a nightmare from which there was no escape.
"Please," she whispered in a defeated voice. "Please, let me go."
"I think not."
"Your hands…are hurting me."
Jareth dissected Sarah like an insect, his feral gaze observing her frail figure. She seemed so weak, so fragile within his frigid hold. Her head bowed in reluctant submission. Sarah was not this cowardly; she would not falter in front of him like this. Where had the obnoxious adolescent gone? She was giving in, and for some arcane reason, it troubled him.
Unwillingly, he released her flaccid shoulders. Sarah did not raise her head. Instead, her verdant eyes remained closed, her voice silent. A small, almost inaudible sigh of relief escaped her, her tense muscles relaxed.
He stared at her with cool, calculating eyes. This small act of submission was not like her at all. He honestly expected her to shout out him, and repeat her sensible denial. But she didn't.
"Sarah," he spoke in a gentle voice.
She remained in her statue-like stance, averse to answer him.
Waiting a moment longer, he lost his patience, and clasped a wrist tightly, his abrasive leather glove wound around a delicate wrist in choking grip. "Look at me," he ordered. "Sarah, I grow tired of this little charade. Don't me make do something that you may regret."
Her eyes opened, the ardent fire gone from their emerald depths. "Do what you must, Goblin King," she said coldly. "I don't care anymore."
A golden brow rose derisively. "You don't care? Be careful, Sarah. To say that you do not care, usually results in unexpected disappointment."
"Stop with your pointless analogies! I'm tired of arguing with you! Just do whatever you plan to do, and leave me alone!"
"Leave you alone, my dear?" he asked quizzically. "I think not. Unless, you prefer to be reintroduced to a certain oubliette… No, I don't believe I'll give you the satisfaction in that. Come," he pulled her closer against him, feeling her shuddered intake of breath. "You will stay in my castle."
Sarah stared at him with harsh indignation. "I'd rather be a prisoner than stay with you."
Jareth met her fury with his own dark gaze. "Sarah, you are already my prisoner. It would be wise to acknowledge that."
"Of course, Your Grace. I am, after all, merely a witless captive."
He bit back an impolite rejoinder to the barb, and smiled. "I'm glad you found your viperous tongue. However, it will not save you—not this time."
"I don't need to be saved."
"Don't you? You certainly had no problem asking for help the last time you were here," he stroked his chin in an inquiring gesture. "Are you so certain of yourself, or are you too proud and solid in you beliefs that you do not need help?"
Sarah held her ground, refusing to allow this arrogant figment of her imagination to get the best of her. "I'm an no longer a child, Goblin King; I do not need another fighting my battles for me."
"Such a pity. It would certainly confirm your reluctance of seeing them, wouldn't it?"
A pang of dread stirred within her stomach. Something within his mocking tone made her feel dread, trepidation. Finding her voice, she asked, "What are you talking about?"
He looked at her as if she were insane. "Why your disinclination of calling on them. Don't tell me that you refuse to believe in your friends as well. I told them you did, and they called me a liar. Believe me, Sarah, I do not lie."
"You merely twist your words around."
He emitted a snort of disbelief. "And you're no better? Didn't you promise that whenever you needed them, you would call? I suppose your calls did not go through."
She wondered how he would know of her promise—he wasn't there. On the other hand, it was a dream. He could have such knowledge, if that were possible. "I tried once," she admitted. "But nothing happened. I should not have expected less."
"You should not," his eyes narrowed a fraction, before glowing with an unnatural luster. "Of course, it's your nature not to."
"What do you want from me? I know there's something that you're keeping from me."
"Quick to the point. You know I've always enjoyed your directness. Such candor! Well, I suppose I'll oblige you with my aberrant honesty." His tone became serious, the lines in his face, hardened. "You will stay in my castle, until I say otherwise. There will be no arguing between us, and you will obey me. Is that understood?"
She said nothing. Instead, she turned her back on him.
Febrile anger filled him with her intentional audacity, the fiery emotion inundating his senses. He instinctively seized her shoulders, and forced her to look at him. "You will not do that again, Sarah," he said, the deadly warning visible within his restrained tone. "Don't cause me to do something both of us may regret."
She refused to submit, and he despised her for it. A sardonic grin graced his crooked lips. He silently produced a crystal in his right palm, and held it out to her. He watched her stare at the translucent sphere, as if mesmerized by it radiance. Before she could tear her gaze away from the bauble, Jareth threw it at a nearby wall.
The glass sphere shattered instantly, leaving its shattered remains on the filthy cobblestones. "Things break, Sarah," he said gravely. "Even a fiery spirit. I would hate to break you of it."
Her mask fell, the brave façade leaving her. "Then do what you will, Goblin King. It seems that you will have your way. I am your prisoner."
Jareth did not reply to her subtle remark. It was sometimes better to leave things unsaid. He merely nodded in assertion, and closed his eyes. Producing a crystal, he pulled her against him, and disappeared.
His will placed them into a beautifully decorated chamber, and watched Sarah open her eyes to observe her new surroundings.
The chamber, though small, was one of the more lavishly decorated rooms in the castle. Stonewalls boasted thick tapestries, which portrayed different locations of the Labyrinth. The deep, rich colours were invigorating to say the least.
A crystal chandelier hung from the center of the room. Above it was a circular fresco, which also depicted a scene of the Labyrinth. The stone floor was covered in a burgundy Turkish style rug. There was only one window in the room, and it was framed in a Gothic arch shape. Sarah's eyes widened at the sight of the bitter, metal bars framing the blue stained glass.
She refused to look at him—refused to see the mocking pleasure within his strange eyes. Instead, she turned her attention to the rest of the room's furnishings.
To her right, was a wooden armoire and a bookcase filled with various volumes in strange letters. The diverse tomes piqued her interest, but she would quench her curiosity later.
A staggered sigh escaped her, as she turned to face the last piece of furniture. Her emerald eyes hesitated to look at the large bed, its massive size filled half of the room. The king-size divan was large enough to fit three adults comfortably, perhaps even another.
The satin sheets were a dark shade of grey. Pillows of numerous shapes and sizes dominated the top half, while a velvet plum throw covered its base. Curtains of the same colour hung from the wooden canopy. A mirror was subtly placed above the bed for certain…activities.
"This is where you will be staying…for the moment." Jareth whispered, confirming her worst fear.
"Wouldn't you rather throw me in the dungeon? I certainly do not deserve such accommodations."
"Sarah, Sarah," he chided in a playful tone. "You are a guest here. It would be most uncivil of me if I were to treat a guest with such revulsion. Besides, I believe this room will suite all of your needs," he glanced at the bed.
Sarah understood his perverse meaning. "You bastard," she muttered under her breath.
His playful expression melted to one of vile hatred. "Don't call me that," he glared at her ominously. A gloved hand snaked through her dark hair, and tugged violently. "Sarah, don't ever call me that again. Am I understood?"
Sarah could not speak, her voice strangely muted. She could only nod in agreement, hoping that her silent submission would appease him, and cause him to return to his satirical mood.
Jareth quickly released her, as if burnt. The dangerous gleam in his eyes was gone, only a blank expression remained. He took a step back from her, and turned away. "The large cord on your right is a service bell. If there is anything you need, pull it and my servants will attend you."
He did not give her the chance to speak. Before she could blink, he was already gone in a cloud of dust and glitter. Sarah watched the last of the glistening fragments fall to the stone floor and disappear.
A wave of confusion crashed against her mind. Why did such a light remark infuriate him so? He looked as if he would murder her—and it frightened her. Dream or not, this man—being—or whatever he was troubled her.
She had to escape from this room, from this nightmare, but how? How could one break out of a dream? Shaking her head in dismay, she realized that she was a prisoner on her own accord—a prisoner of a dream.
****
Author's Note: It's been a little over nine months since I've last posted, my apologies to those who have waited so long for another chapter. I'll try not to be so negligent in updating this story again. This is one fiction I've wanted to continue, but have not because of various reasons…
However, this is merely the beginning of the story—an introduction, if you will. I'm no longer making this up as I go along. It has an actual plot now! ^_^
Look forward to the next chapter sometime soon!