Hi! I'm newly returned to the world of Labyrinth fic-writing... Any kind of fic-writing, to be painfully honest. I wrote my last Labyrinth fanfic 2 years ago - and I miss it. So I'm coming back. PLEASE review!! I beg of theeee......
I don't own The Labyrinth or any of the original characters. So if you're looking for someone to hunt down and kill, leave me out of it. Punk. ;)
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Her name was Aileen.
Her skin was the unblemished softness of a rose petal. When she moved, her long, wavy black hair streamed behind her like a river of onyx. Flashing green eyes read the soul, and the words from a sweet mouth touched it. In long white dresses, she would glide down the narrow Labyrinth paths. Dragonflies followed in her wake. Her voice was the ringing of bells, even when her tone was harsh.
Jareth met her when he was five years old. Really five years old, not an entity of twelve years in a five year old body. He was five and she had to have been around seven years old.
No one was totally sure how she wound up in Jareth's castle. It was whispered in dark corners that Fate herself had intervened. Marisa, the young King's goblin nurse, dared not comment. Even as a tiny, white haired child, Jareth's temper was volatile. All she knew was, one day she walked into the throne room, bringing her young charge his lunch. Beside the gothic, ornate throne was Jareth. There upon the throne was a little dark-haired girl Marisa had never seen. The lunch tray clattered as it hit the floor, falling from her nerveless fingers.
The girl on the throne gave a startled jump. Jareth spun around to face his nurse, squinting angrily. "Marisa!" He said in a regal little voice, "Don't scare my friend!" In quite a different tone, he reached out to take the little girl's hand in his own. "It's okay," he muttered, "If she tries to make you go away, I'll get her. Boom!" The little girl looked up to Marisa, who was hastily cleaning spilled soup from the stone floor. Her huge green eyes looked back down to Jareth, seated adoringly at her feet. She whispered something to him, he nodded and said, "Well, I guess I don't have to do anything mean." He glanced severely at poor Marisa. "As long as she does what I want, I'll be a good boy..."
That was that. Marisa dared not tempt the young king into using his developing, wayward powers. She got used to bringing out two bowls of soup instead of just one. One bowl for Jareth, one bowl for 'Leen, as she was called. The goblin nurse would serve the food, then watch from the doorway. Jareth would first sample the soup, testing, Marisa expected, for poison from a goblin who wanted to be a hero of sorts. Determining it to be safe, he would not eat one more bite until Aileen had finished hers. Then, only if she didn't want more, he would eat his own soup. Marisa watched this with an interested eye - generosity from the already vile Goblin King. What he received in return was a smile, perhaps an affectionate pat on the hand. Marisa, being a goblin, did not understand. Therefore, even as she was relieved and amazed at Jareth's kindness, she could not trust it.
He was not, of course, any kinder to the goblins. If anything, he was harsher, more impatient to those who served him. It was important that Aileen get all she needed, when she needed it.
And so the years began to fly....
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