Rule Two: You have to believe you have the power and the will.
Sarah stiffened abruptly. Her trembling hands clung to the edges of her duvet, unwilling to unveil her face. With her sight obscured she could pretend, just for the moment that she was dreadfully mistaken.
Perhaps, Hoggle's impersonations of his Royal Annoyance had drastically improved since last week; his prior attempt of stomping around her room in her winter boots and proffering her a battered orange from the bottom of her school bag (the best he could do on short notice) had been met with hilarity but ultimately his performance wasn't quite convincing enough for this.
For one thing, there wasn't nearly enough glitter. Then again, all of the kindergarten arts and crafts programmes in the world couldn't compete with Ja-the Goblin King's glitteriness.
Alas, Sarah had to gather the courage to peek out at the intimidating figure in the doorway, lest she be labelled a chicken in return.
And there he was, in heavy black armour with a long sweeping cloak, dark enough to blend in with the shadows of the room. Even though neither of them had switched on her bedroom light, every detail of his haughty, arrogant face was visible. It was as if the Goblin King himself were capable of radiating a soft silvery light.
Finally able to tear her eyes away from him, Sarah noticed her friends recoil in horror and back away as their King advanced into the room. He followed her gaze, his lips curling into a sardonic smile as he revelled in the shivering terror of her companions.
His movements were slow and deliberate. Sarah didn't know if he was giving her time to acclimatise to his presence or if he simply enjoyed building up an aura of ominous tension, probably the latter.
She was captivated by him.
Although she had packed away many of her toys since her foray into the Labyrinth she couldn't help but feel like her attempt to capture magic in the very walls of her room, from the books that lined the shelves to the artwork on her walls, had disastrously fallen short. Like a crippled ant attempting the long jump. The ethereal glow he cast in the room made all of her possessions seem like a cheap and fragile imitation of the real thing she sought.
Whilst she certainly wasn't best pleased that an otherworldly Fae King had barged into her room in the middle of the night (one that most likely held a substantial grudge against her), another part of her that had grown complacent, her edges dulled by the blandness of reality, was thrilled.
The Goblin King, a figure from which magic seeped and dreams were woven, stood before her. And all at once, that feeling of enthrallment faded as she was given a keen reminder of what her life now sorely lacked.
"Fair enough," Sarah responded at long last. He had clearly been enjoying her dumbfounded expression, mismatched eyes burning with a strange intensity she recalled seeing in the Upside-Down-Never-Right-Room-Of-Stairs-That-She-Was-Glad-Wasn't-Housed-In-Her-School-Since-Getting-To-The-Top-Floor-For-English-Class-Frequently-Winded-Her. "I don't suppose chickens are all that skilled at breaking and entering, what with the lack of opposable thumbs and all."
Offence flashed across his face, "I do not recall doing any breaking." He smirked at her as she tugged herself free of her duvet armour and went to stand in front of her friends. They flinched backwards as she approached as though unwilling to have the Goblin King's attention drawn to them again. "As for your recent fixation with poultry..." He trailed off tapping a gloved finger against his chin, thoughtfully. "It is quite a change from your love of heroic Princesses and Princes. Or Kings." His grin widened at the addendum. "Is that what you dream of these days, a valiant chicken's quest to cross the bloodstained crossroad under a new moon?"
Sarah stared at him blankly for a long moment, she felt like this was somehow meant to resemble a deep and meaningful quote given the seriousness of his tone. All that came out of her mouth was: "Is that supposed to be the set up of a bad joke?"
As nonchalant and put together as she sounded, internally she was half hysterical with disbelief that she was conversing with the Goblin King about things of such insignificance.
She was ignoring the elephant in the room, or the bizarre chicken in the room (the King really shouldn't quit his day job and take up stand up comedy if he thought this was a good joke.) She should be asking him what he was doing in her room.
She watched a frown mar the King's forehead at her query. Before she could pursue the line of questioning further Hoggle saw fit to enlighten her by muttering a response. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite audible unless the intended recipient was his brown laced-up boots.
"I'm sorry?" Sarah prompted him to repeat it.
"S'a riddle." He finally croaked out, averting eye contact with the King that was openly sneering at him.
"A most intriguing conundrum that confounds even the keenest minds of the Underground." Sir Didymus added eagerly, unaware of the apparent danger in their midst.
"Cat Lady mad." Ludo nodded his head; his long horns caught a picture frame, sending it toppling to the ground with a clatter.
Just what she needed, more noise to wake her family. She wasn't sure what a fight between the King of the Goblins and her stepmother would look like but part of her was rooting for Karen succeeding with the wrath of her astoundingly heavy ironing board and coercing the King into doing the laundry.
"Indeed." The daunting figure that loomed over them confirmed. "Since you are so fond of them, I'll be kind enough to grace you with one of my own." The smile he wore was anything but friendly; there were too many teeth that seemed jagged and inhuman. "I quench no thirst nor hunger, though I inspire a hunger to reverse the potency of my gift. My gift is forever and forever shall you try to be rid of me."
Sarah glanced worriedly at her friends who continued to mull over the King's words with great confusion. Personally she thought the riddle itself wasn't a lot to go on, but knowing the Goblin King, she had a sneaking suspicion of what he was eluding to.
Seeing a blatant lack of fear from his subjects the King decided to abandon all subtlety.
"I rhyme with the Hog of Nocturnal Bench." He looked temporarily hopeful at the glint of recognition in Didymus' eyes.
The terrier Knight waved his sword around frantically, running headfirst into Hoggle, who seemed to be suffering from a lot of collisions this evening. "Ah yes, Sire, the Dog of the Infernal Wench." He puffed his chest out proudly. Hoggle let out a pained sound, bulbous eyes widening in horror as he realised the King's meaning.
The King let out a long-suffering sigh, exchanging a meaningful look with Sarah as if to say: 'you see what I have to put up with.' At least that's how Sarah interpreted it; he could just as easily have been constipated.
He raised a hand, summoning a crystal into existence; he rolled it around slowly, tauntingly.
Sarah was transfixed by the sight of the orb, biting down on her lip, she could recall too easily the way her dreams were obliterated; an insignificant pop of a little soap bubble.
"How would you like another hint, a physical prompt even?" He offered; the intricate movements of his fingers ceased, the muscles in his shoulders were tensed and poised to strike. Before she could leap out of the way the crystal was casually tossed before her feet, exploding into a shower of silver.
When the blinding assault of glitter faded, much to her surprise, Sarah found herself stood exactly where she was before.
Minus her friends.
Sarah attempted to appear threatening in her polka-dot nightdress, watching him sternly with her arms crossed. She couldn't rule out the possibility that it was fatigue that was causing her eyes to droop as opposed to her narrowing them in a display of intimidation.
The Goblin King didn't have the decency to even pretend to look cowed. In fact, he looked rather satisfied with his dismissal of her friends.
"What did you do to them?" Her voice dripped with resentment.
He simply raised an eyebrow, "Surely you don't require me to add another line to my riddle. As the Champion of my Labyrinth one would think you capable of unravelling it from the very first word that left my mouth."
Champion of the Labyrinth.
When Sir Didymus had referred to her by that title she had thought it the result of his over-exuberant eloquence. When the King of the Goblins spoke the title, it rang with power. A strange tingling sensation built up on the back of her neck and sent waves of something she couldn't quite name, surging through her skull.
"If you hurt them-"
"Peace" He raised a hand in what was supposed to be a calming gesture but looked more like he was directing a particularly violent stream of traffic. "I did not say they would land in the clue, I just gave them the chance to see it." He wrinkled his hawkish nose, "Or take note of it using their other, more stimulated senses."
So, her friends weren't horribly traumatised and destined to spend their days in isolation from the rest of their Kingdom. That didn't mean she would forgive him for sending them away from her.
They were supposed to be there whenever she needed them; despite previously facing the King alone, she felt their notable absence this time around.
Sarah felt a stab of horror at the realisation of just how much she had come to rely on their presence during her evenings. Her friends were gone and it was his fault.
"What are you doing here?" Her voice was too quiet, too tightly controlled. The words she spoke felt heavy in her mouth. This was entirely off-script; after all, the Labyrinth book that she had cherished didn't have a sequel.
'What-To-Do-When-The-King-Of-The-Goblin's-Reappears-For-Idle-Small-Talk', or the lesser-known spin-off: 'How-To-Evict-Local-Poultry-Enthusiast-From-Your-Room-In-The-Middle-Of-The-Night.'
She spared a futile glance towards her bookshelf in the vain hope of one of those books magically materialising. Come to think of it she couldn't recall buying the original tale, one day she'd found it wedged between her copy of 'Grimm's Fairy Tales' and one of her father's misplaced law textbooks.
She may have been better off studying the law book in anticipation of avoiding verbally binding contracts; not that mortal law would have done her much good in the Labyrinth anyway.
Alas, her prayers weren't answered, there was no new leather-bound book she could seize to banish the Goblin King from her bedroom. The chair tucked into her vanity, on the other hand, was looking more and more appealing.
She could be The-Champion-That-Vanquished-The-Goblin-King-With-Her-Rickety-Second-Hand-Chair; they'd write ballads about her.
He tilted his head with a considering look upon his face; his hands were restless by his sides as though tempted to start spinning another crystal between them. "I recently acquired a gift." His mouth twisted into an amused grin, "It was a...generous gift. It reminded me that lost things need not remain lost forever." He began to step closer to Sarah, who refused to back away and lose whatever feigned confidence she possessed. "I decided that I could afford to be generous to you once more, Sa-rah."
The deliberate pronunciation of her name with an odd sing-song lilt sent a flash of fear through her. His eyes drank her in eagerly, his gaze refusing to stray from her for even a moment. He looked at her as though he couldn't quite believe she was in front of him and blinking was a risky concession that could lead to her inexplicably disappearing in the brief moment in which his eyes were closed.
She didn't like this game; she wasn't going to play it.
"You're not welcome in my room." She didn't know which stories about the Fae were true and whether revoking his right to be there would even work. It seemed that she was toeing the line between vampire mythology and good old stranger-danger advice, do not engage. "I could scream." She offered, half-heartedly. She felt far too fatigued to put on a great melodramatic performance of a damsel in distress; in any case, she thought it seemed a bit demeaning.
She hadn't screamed at him when he had first appeared and she had no intention of doing so now. She was the heroine of the story, the Champion even.
And here stood her villain; he adopted an expression of distaste at her words. "Do you think your cries would rally your family against me?" He looked as though he was considering what a war waged by the Williams against him would entail. "Your family slumbers, sweet one, lost in their dreams. Something I'm afraid you haven't experienced for some time."
Sarah immediately became cold, cut off. "I suppose you're positively gleeful. I couldn't just go home with the brother that you stole; you had to take my dreams from me in revenge."
She could hear the distant roll of thunder swelling in the sky, paired with the darkened look on the Goblin King's face, it didn't bode well.
"I did not, nor have I ever stolen a child." He bit out, his voice terse with irritation. "As for your dreams, I'm sure that you recall me offering them." He made a twisting motion with his fingers, a clear sphere sat there, waiting to be spun, waiting to be twisted by his desires. "And you, rejecting them."
It didn't take a genius to pick up on the secondary meaning of his words, given the viciousness of which he spat the word 'rejecting.'
"I had to get my brother back." Sarah denied, "What kind of person would I be to let you keep him in exchange for anything, even if it was my dreams." Her thoughts turned melancholy as she recalled the surreal quality of the peach-dream, twirling and spinning until she was so dizzy she lost all sense of self; her only anchor was a firm pair of hands guiding her. "Besides, I thought you were talking about my dreams in the sense that you were offering me my fantasies, not threatening to take away my actual ability to dream."
The Goblin King looked affronted as her words turned vitriolic, "You are ever so careless with your words little girl. Do you have any idea of what you did to yourself?" He sneered in return as she scowled at his form of address. "Where do you think it is that the dreams of mortals are born, are woven and bestowed upon the hungry escape-driven minds of humanity?" He raised the orb in his hand, allowing her to see flashes of what seemed to be a grand dinner party and a ceremonial stage. "These are your mother's dreams, and what lavish dreams she has. A pity that her only child holds no place in them."
Sarah had often heard that cruel words felt like knives; instead of knives, she felt like she had been submerged in an icy lake, watching the dim light of the sun fade away as she descended into the darkened depths.
He could have been lying.
She knew that lying wasn't supposed to be part of his nature if her research was correct.
Perhaps it didn't hurt as much as she thought it would because she was aware of this bitter truth already; she was tired of making up excuses for why her famous mother, adored by all, especially her own daughter, neglected to answer her phone calls.
"If you've just come here to be spiteful and mock me and my friends, you can just return home to your perfect life and your perfect little dream world." She spat, no longer caring if she insulted him grievously. He had no right to be here, not after everything he had done to her.
Sarah flushed slightly, she could feel her cheeks heat up with her rage, silently furious that she had to be the unfortunate type that tended to cry when angry. No one ever took you seriously when you had tears streaming down your cheeks. Angrily, forcing her tear ducts to cooperate, she watched as the Goblin King frowned at her as though puzzled by her distress. She deliberately averted his gaze and kept her eyes fixed upon the ground, perhaps Hoggle had been on to something.
"Come, come, Sarah, will you really dismiss someone who has come all this way, across Kingdoms and the boundaries between reality, just to bestow upon you a gift?" He wheedled, cruel in his duplicitous kindness.
"I don't want anything from you." Her nails bit into the palms of her hands as she clenched them into fists. It seemed that she would never escape from the consequences of her mistakes.
He tutted at her refusal to look up at him. "Do you know what happens to those without dreams?" His voice softened as he urged her to indulge him. "They waste away into lifeless husks, a bleeding void from which all their bonds have irreversibly snapped."
The image he painted was less than pleasant.
Sarah sucked in a deep breath, trying to prevent herself from hyperventilating as she recalled the endless abyss, without sight or sound in which she dwelled for those few agonising hours where she closed her eyes to rest; returning to wakefulness gasping and pleading for her friends to provide her with comfort and warmth.
"You'll give me my dreams back?"
His smile was vicious and deadly, infinitely pleased that she was looking upon his face again. "Last time I exhausted myself to fulfil your demands, taking your unwanted child, coaxing my Labyrinth to become more of a challenge for one as daring as you." The crystal he had been toying with, no longer showed the desire for the applause of an adoring crowd, it remained clear, a blank canvas waiting to be filled. "Sarah, this time I require a small token for my efforts."
She didn't know why he was doing this to her. Did he wish to crush her victory even more firmly underfoot?
"I'll bet." She glared at him hatefully, already trying to come up with a way to wriggle out of offering up her firstborn child to him. Wasn't that how these fairy tale deals tended to go? Letting him lay his hands on her hypothetical firstborn was the last thing she'd ever let him do. "What is this small token?"
His smile was almost warm, softer somehow as he gazed at her for a long moment. "It has been such a long time since I have been able to craft a dream for you after you revoked my influence, I'm afraid I'm dreadfully out of practice." She wasn't fooled by his pretence of innocence. "Allow me to spin a dream for us to share and your dreams shall be returned to you."
She didn't believe what he was implying for a second. Unfortunately, she truly missed being able to dream. Even if the Goblin King concocted the most horrific nightmare imaginable, wouldn't it be worth it to get her dreams back? Surely, she could survive one night of his company if she could avoid the dismal fate he had warned her about.
"One dream. For one night." Sarah clarified, desperately thinking of ways in which this deal could be twisted against her, "Ending at 7am so I can wake up in time for school. You can't keep me trapped in the dream and muck about with time so I stay longer."
The Goblin King shook his head, more amused if anything by her attempts at bargaining. "Half of the night has already elapsed, taken up by your righteous protests and your precious little sleepover with your friends." His eyes followed her as she took small steps backwards until she hit her bed, perching on the edge of her duvet with weary eyes and a worn-out expression he seemed to take pity on her. "Thirteen hours of dreams. Surely you need it after your hopeless attempts to find respite without my aid. I'll concede to your demand to be awoken in time for your educational needs."
Sarah's face screwed up in exasperation. "You can't fit thirteen hours between now and 7am."
"Can't I?" His voice was thick with oozing pride as he casually implied her lack of chronokinesis talent was somehow a personal failing.
"So...when are we doing this?" She spoke grudgingly.
He stepped closer towards her; his mismatched eyes gleamed with victory as he watched her shrink more heavily into her mattress. The legs she had been swinging, thrumming with nervous energy now sat tucked underneath her as she continued to cautiously watch his approach.
Perhaps, desisting from dangling her legs over the side of the bed was a pointless effort to protect herself from the unnamed and hopefully imaginary monsters hiding under her bed. She didn't need their input when there was a much more threatening monster stood in front of her.
"So, you agree?" The Goblin King sounded almost breathless, not daring to hope that what he had spent a year being denied of was finally falling into his grasp.
Saying: 'do your worst' can't have been the most intelligent thing to come out of her mouth. Especially, since the Goblin King's feral grin promised he had no difficulty doing just that.
Before she could attempt to clear up the fact that what she said was meant as a figure of speech, cool gloved fingertips briefly made contact with her temples and the world unravelled around her.
~*o0o*~
It would be a cliché to say dancing with him was akin to flying. Their movements were fluid and graceful; there was something far more elegant about dancing than there was walking or jumping or even doing the hopscotch.
Perhaps it was more like swimming. The crowd around them parted like waves, although each of the minute movements around them caused them to be buffeted along with the tide of swaying bodies.
There was a sense of heaviness that assailed her as opposed to the lightweight freefall of soaring through the skies. It was a strange kind of heaviness, more comforting than restrictive like a thick comforting quilt. The weight of the hands directing her embraced and guided her through the crowd's curiosity, lapping at them eagerly.
Swimming seemed to be a less stylish form of movement, but it cannot be argued against that the sea is a powerful and dangerous force of nature indeed.
Flying, swimming or dancing, it didn't occur to her to ponder what she was doing. All she knew was that as she spun and the room twisted around her in turn, that she had reached a level of peace she hadn't felt in a long time.
She looked up at the familiar face belonging to the one that was holding her; his expression was unusually tender at that moment, free of its usual scheming glint. A small frown crossed her face as this observation came to mind.
She knew that this peculiar serenity was incongruous, and yet she couldn't quite recall why she should be wary of her companion's usual temperament. Instead, she sought to focus on other aspects of his appearance aside from the curve of his smile, that didn't cause such conflict within her thoughts.
He is quite beautiful, she decided. Immediately she averted her eyes, missing that flash of amusement that brightened in his gaze at her bashfulness.
He was so bright, so other, so unique. Her mind felt too hazy to do him any justice as she struggled to ascribe words to him.
She should be concerned that her head was notably absent of such important details of why she was here, where here was exactly. It should be frightening that admiring him and revelling in their gentle turns in the silver, streamer strewn ballroom, occupied her mind to such an intense degree.
Now that she could finally draw her attention away from him she was able to take better notice of the other guests. Their movements were somehow more languid, maintaining a greater amount of contact with their partners who they continued to touch in a way that could only loosely be called dancing if she looked at them with her eyes crossed and unfocused.
Their garb, whilst elaborate in shape and design held only the dullest of pigments, they faded in and out of the background with their obscured faces like shadows in comparison to the radiance of her and her partner's apparel.
It was very...glittery...
Not that she thought there was a problem with glitter but part of her couldn't help but feel as though this detail should significantly annoy her.
"Sarah." He murmured at last. It was a good job that he was the one to break the silence, perhaps they would have continued to silently spin forever in this ballroom of twisting figures and obscure masks.
Sarah must have been her name. Her companion wasn't looking at anyone else in their vicinity. Sa-rah...Sa-rah...she liked the way it sounded in his mellifluous voice. Even if it were not her name she thought she'd be willing to let him address her as such, just to hear the warmth in his voice as his mouth tenderly curled around those two syllables.
"Sarah." She echoed back, her forehead scrunched up in confusion. She felt quite silly parroting what he was saying, her tongue feeling clumsy in her mouth after an extended absence of conversing. "Is that who I am?"
Her partner seemed amused by her bewilderment, offering no comment as he adjusted his hold on her waist and spun her around again. She saw flashes of the other dancers watching them with great interest; those lurking in the alcoves ceased their actions to stare at them. It was as though her companion's verbalisation of her name had sent a potent ripple throughout the room.
She should be aggravated by his refusal to answer her but she was unable to shake off the heady feeling of comfort he exuded as he held her in his arms. Carefully, she leaned forward so that she could rest her head against his shoulder. His grip tightened at her gesture of affection and switched to gently swaying them in one spot on the polished star-studded ground.
Keeping her gaze away from the crowd around them, she tried to ignore the sensation of too many eyes following their movements. They were able to hide behind their deformed masks with grotesque features, leering out at her; she had only a shoulder to cling to and a veil of golden hair to restrict her face from being seen.
She thought her companion seemed pleased about their change in position; he hummed softly under his breath in time to music she could only faintly make out over the loquacious guest's babbling.
"I don't like them watching me." She mumbled, feeling embarrassed to admit her discomfort to the one she danced with.
Looking at him was like looking into the sun, it hurt her to look upon such perfection. But he was almost too sterile, too statue-like in his flawlessness, it brought the first twinges of unease into her previously empty thoughts.
It should be cause for alarm when the sun stared back, when it sought to consume and lavish its attention upon a befuddled mortal. It should be downright terrifying when the sun yielded to her touch, sucking in a deep breath as she nuzzled her head closer into the crook of its neck, softening the sharp angles of its body to accommodate her.
"Then I shall be the only one to watch over you." He returned, softly urging her to look up again with a small squeeze of his gloved hand.
She would have stumbled backwards in shock if he didn't have hold of her by her waist. The gossamer silver sheen of the ballroom melted away into rich verdant greenery.
They appeared to be in a fairly decent sized garden, surrounded by trees. In the centre stood a curious-looking water fountain made up of jagged shards of glass, from which flowed a substance that looked like honey if not for the vastly reduced viscosity.
There was a tree next to the fountain; it appeared to be oddly out of place, given that its great boughs cast shadows over the garden's centrepiece but she was hardly in a position to critique someone else's property. No, she was far more fascinated by how she had come to be in this new location away from the insincere smiles and cold eyes that the masks had failed to hide.
Her partner's arms were still around her, he took a small step backwards and carefully urged her to follow his movements as he resumed their graceful circling motions around the garden's clearing. The grass seemed inviting, warmed by the sun; she idly wondered what it would feel like to tread upon it barefoot.
There were questions she should be asking, how did we get here? Who are you? Who am I?
And yet gaining answers was of less importance at that moment. What was important was the fact that she felt happy that he was still dancing with her away from everyone else. He had caused the ballroom to vanish and he had done it at her request.
"Better?" He inquired, not quite teasing but still entertained by her death grip on him after their sudden transportation. "This was how things were supposed to be." He sounded thoughtful as he took in her perplexed expression, "There's nothing for you to worry about Precious Thing; you'll never have to worry about anything again."
Contently, she rested her head against his shoulder again, enjoying the way that the sunlight glinted off their clothing, uncaring whether or not her dress would be muddied as they danced upon the grass, growing closer to the tree.
"I wish I knew your name." She whispered; her words half-buried into the material of his crystal-encrusted lapels.
She didn't know who Sarah was to this person.
She didn't know who her dance partner was to Sarah.
What she did know was that he was somehow responsible for this feeling of bliss and safety, a sanctuary away from strife and conflict she couldn't even recall nor want to recall.
He deserved to have his name uttered back just as reverently. It may have been only a small token way of returning his kindness but surely he had earned that much.
She startled as she heard her partner let out a deep sigh, reverberating from his ribcages; his warm breath hit the back of her neck, sending shivers dancing down her spine. "Why would you do a thing like that?" His disappointment was almost palpable.
They drew closer and closer to the tree, her partner's movements suddenly quickening as he practically tugged her forwards instead of stepping with her.
She lifted her head to look upon his face once more; the sharp aristocratic planes of his face were drawn into an expression of wry exasperation.
Jareth.
Her mouth disobediently spoke the name that her mind was now screaming at her in warning. She was not a wave upon the ocean woven into his elegant dance, she was a defenceless ship caught up in a maelstrom.
His-Jareth's lips curved up into a rueful smile as she shoved him backwards, just as she had done a year ago in the last dream she'd ever had.
Last time she hadn't had the satisfaction of watching the regal Goblin King slam into a tree.
It was only now that she paid attention to what was at the foot of the tree; a small ring of toadstools that sat there innocently.
A fairy ring.
Betrayal. Disgust. Even worse, disappointment. Each sent a lance of pain through her chest.
Sarah, her name, definitely hers; it didn't belong to him. It wasn't allowed to cross his poisonous serpent tongue.
Sarah glared vehemently at the Goblin King, who continued to look as though she had mildly inconvenienced him; then, he tilted his head and frowned lightly at the barrier of toadstools that now separated the two of them.
"Jareth." This time she spat his name as though it tasted as rotten as the worm-infested peach she once held in her amnesia-addled grasp.
His mismatched eyes lit up at hearing his name on her tongue, irrespective of the bitterness of her voice.
"Sarah." He returned, just as readily. "Did you really have to wake at such a pivotal moment?" He shook his head in chastisement.
Her glare intensified, "But I'm not really awake, am I? This is still part of the dream, the one you insisted we share."
Light no longer set the garden aglow, the sun was shrouded by clouds and the cold air bit into the exposed skin of her bare neck.
The Goblin King held his hand out to her, edging closer to the line of toadstools but not crossing them. "Step into the circle, Sarah."
She shook her head, taking a step away from him, desperately hoping that now he'd crossed into the circle he would be restricted from leaving it.
He had danced with her again; he'd smiled at her, making her feel like he'd cared. But everything he'd ever done was nothing but a manipulation.
Would he entrap her? Keep her as a living statue to watch over his weird little garden that didn't even have normal flowing water. Who even wanted to drink whatever syrupy concoction that dwelled in the fountain?
The drinker would probably go into a diabetic coma at the first taste.
"Give me one good reason." This time when Sarah took another step back she could hear an unsettling crunch underfoot. The grass beneath her had dried and withered, turning an ashy shade of grey.
The Goblin King-Jareth, the name that had jolted her into awareness; his hand wavered for a moment before falling to his side. His body stiffened as he took in the decaying landscape, the way the tree above him bowed forward and leaves started to fall out in messy clumps. She would have laughed at his affronted expression when those leaves ended up in his hair if the situation were less dire.
"You belong here." He insisted; his voice was painfully earnest as though there was no alternative in his mind. "You are a being that has spent her life living in dreams with reality inflicted upon you. There is no sibling to save, Sarah." He entreated, his face now tight with worry as the very edges of the garden's boundaries wavered and shadows crept forth. "No heroes or villains, just choices and the paths they lead to."
"You would deny me, the ability to choose my own path." Sarah retorted, "You would force me to step in your Kingdom whilst sleepwalking and keep me there. Why would I ever choose to go with you?"
The King's frustration grew as his eyes darted back and forth between Sarah and the rolling waves of hazy fog that drifted over the dead grass.
"It is inevitable." His voice darkened, "You will come with me one day of your own will. What is more, you'll enjoy everything I have to offer you."
"You dare to presume what I want." Sarah's voice shook, "I wanted my dreams back, I wanted to feel like I was alive again instead of waiting for the moment that I wouldn't be able to wake up anymore." She angrily scrubbed at her eyes, furious that he was seeing evidence of her weakness at the moisture that lay there, giving her away.
She too began to feel unnerved by the twisting shadows, they seemed to thicken and grow in opacity as she observed them. It reminded her too much of the usual content of her dreamless sleep, the hungry devouring maw of darkness.
"You're being childish." He snapped back at her, "You're refusing to even consider my offer out of pride. Can't you feel the connection between us, the fascination that drew you into my world? It brought you the story...the key, the Labyrinth chose you." His voice sounded scornful, although, Sarah could see his confidence waning as he genuinely seemed bewildered by her rejection.
Maybe it was time she brought out the big guns.
Her lips curled up into a smirk of confidence, she felt exhilarated by the sudden look of caution that dwelled on his face. Sarah knew the words, they'd saved her once and they'd save her again.
"You have no power over-" Her Words rang with strength before she was sharply cut off by a hacking fit of coughs.
Sarah's eyes watered, one hand reached up to touch her throat as she attempted to say it again. "No powe-" Once more she began to choke, the Words refused to come out; defiant glee shone in the eyes of the Goblin King.
"Oh dear, was there something you wished to say to me, Sarah?" His voice was a mockery of everything friendly and caring, "I can't quite make out what you're saying, I'm afraid."
Her throat now constricted with her need to hold back the sobs that wanted to burst forth, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of watching her cry over him. She didn't know what he had done to her but she was determined to find another way to be free of him.
The Goblin King thought she was being prideful, well she would bite back her pride and confront him with what she knew to be true. He was insane. There was no connection between them.
Who wouldn't be intrigued by a world of magic, a world that turned out to be cruel and confusing but beautiful nonetheless?
How dare he pretend that she was special, important to him. He was likely the one responsible for her receiving that damned book in the first place. How many girls had he lured into his Labyrinth with promises of dreams and delights beyond their imaginations?
He had stolen her Words.
Sarah spoke at last, "You've tormented me, and maybe I deserved that, I never should have wished Toby away." She continued sadly, her voice wavering "But I don't want this, I don't want to see you, to think about you. I want to live my life without fear of you coming after me in revenge. There is no connection between us." After a momentary pause, "You're...scaring me."
This didn't feel brave. She didn't feel empowered by speaking the truth. The world didn't fall down around them, although there didn't seem to be much left of it in any case.
No, it was Jareth's face that fractured, his aloofness and smug certainty that he was right had been washed away as he finally looked at her.
"This wasn't-" Jareth began, "She said that—why-" He grew noticeably distressed as he took in the misery painted across her face and the soft tremor of her limbs as she continued to stare him down in spite of her fear. Fear that he had caused.
Sarah didn't know what to make of his reaction as he edged as close as he could to the line separating them. All he had ever done was trick her and try to trap her against her will.
She wouldn't let him convince her that he was oblivious to the anguish he had caused. After all, wasn't this all a game to the Goblin King?
If the Words at the end of the book couldn't help her then maybe another set of Words would.
Sarah was sick to death of the terror that her dreamless nights instilled within her. For a single moment, she had hope that things would change, that maybe he would change...help her.
"I wish..." Sarah began, her eyes flashing defiantly, noticing the way that the Goblin King's uneasy expression swiftly shifted into what she hoped was panic.
"Sarah-don't-"
"I wish that the Goblins would take you away." Saying it again after all this time set her heart racing. Sarah had promised herself that she would never use those Words, not after the consequences she had faced last time. "Right now."
The only thing she could make out was the two of them, even the now skeletal frame of the tree was shrouded in darkness. The Goblin King no longer looked radiant and untouched, the luminance of his skin looked sickly and his eyes looked sorrowful.
He had no right to look so sad.
Sarah watched with fascination as the Goblin King swallowed heavily. "I had forgotten how young you were." He spoke quietly, it wasn't quite an apology; in fact, Sarah felt rather insulted that she was being dismissed once again as being childish. "I cannot explain why I know you are meant to be by my side." For the first time since she'd met him he almost looked human in his weariness, "But I do know that I am hurting you...I never wanted that."
There was a strange scurrying sound in the darkness; two distorted shapes appeared at the foot of the fairy ring. Sarah jumped back a bit, flinching when she made contact with the frigid wave of blackness that had crept closer.
The two Goblins that had arrived looked nothing alike. One was a burly figure coated in thick blonde hair, the top of its head came up to her waist. The other wasn't even as tall as the Goblin King's boots and was covered in iridescent blue scales.
The Goblins glanced at one another before shooting dubious looks at their King.
"He's a bit bigger than the normal ones." Rasped the shorter Goblin.
"We take! We take!" Clamoured the taller Goblin. "Boss wished-away! Boss wished-away!"
The shorter one squinted at the King with his beetle-like eyes, "You don't say." A set of spines pricked-up on its back as it watched the Goblin King narrow his eyes at them. "Sorry Sire." It paused awkwardly, looking over at an opened mouthed Sarah that hadn't quite believed that the Goblins would come a second time, not for him. "Is now a convenient time...or we can...you know... come back later?" It shrugged awkwardly.
The previous melancholy the Goblin King had displayed vanished in the presence of his subjects. Sarah couldn't help but feel sorry for dragging them into this mess but she was running out of ideas.
"Leave." The King spoke coldly.
The larger Goblin opened its mouth to refute the order, prepared to insist that it was its duty to take away someone who was wished-away but was thankfully cut off when it yelped in pain. The smaller scaly Goblin had sunk its razor-sharp teeth into its hand in warning.
"Right, right. We'll come back when you're not busy." They briefly exchanged looks before vanishing back into the shadows.
Sarah cringed when the Goblin King's attention settled upon her once more. Her dubious saviour duo had turned out to be completely useless after all.
"You've fulfilled your end of the bargain." Whilst he didn't look as menacing as when he had confronted his subjects, Sarah was still put on edge by the blank mask of calm that had settled upon his face. In a way, it was more disturbing than those gross caricature masks worn by the guests in the ballroom.
"I shall trouble you no longer. After all, I doubt you intend to Run the Labyrinth on my behalf." Jareth's smile was a wistful thing; it worried Sarah that she was beginning to feel a twinge of sympathy for him. "Goodbye, Sarah."
Before she had a chance to question his change of heart, to say anything to him at all, his face began to waver in and out of sight as the Once-Beautiful-Turned-Nightmarish-Garden faded away before her eyes.