Disclaimer: Do not own Labyrinth or any of its characters

Poem by JohannWolfgang von Goethe, „The Erl-King"

Picture by Henry Fuseli, „The Nightmare"


Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?
My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care;
My daughters by night their glad festival keep,
They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep."


For thirteen months the uncomfortable truce held, but one night in midwinter she decided to break it.

It was a viciously cold night, the naked tree branches congealed into frozen skeletons of white frost underneath a clear and distant star strewn sky.
She looked at his puffed up form outside her window and was gripped by a sudden urge of pity.
Surely nobody deserved to be outside in this temperature?
Hesitantly she opened the window and felt the cold air hit her like a wall, making her every breath hurt in the warmth of her throat.
She considered him for a moment and he stared right back. Making up her mind before she could dwell on the prudence of her plan for too long, she motioned with her hand beckoning him closer.

"Come on in then. You can stay in the warmth for a while."

He didn't need telling twice and as she stepped back to allow him access to her room, he took off in a powerful rush of wings and flew through the window.
Uttering a screech that sounded suspiciously triumphant to her ears, he circled her once and then dived directly at her head.

The last thing she saw before she ducked to the ground and covered her face was the crystal clutched in his talons.
An odd warm sensation spread from the crown of her head through all of her body and then the room went completely silent again.

Shivering in the arctic air she cautiously lifted her head, ready to fight or flee at any moment. There was no need.
The room was quiet and peaceful, completely devoid of any owls or other creatures. Her head snapped back to the window, expecting him to be sitting in his usual spot, but he was gone.

For the first time in thirteen months the window sill was empty.

Rather than cheering at this unexpected turn of events, she felt inexplicably unsettled. Something had changed and she started to dread the consequences of her rash action. For the moment though, everything seemed normal enough and she pushed her dooms-day assumptions to the back of her mind and went to bed.

That was the first night he came into her bed.

She woke up in the middle of the night, not quite sure what had roused her.
Disoriented in the pitch-blackness of her bedroom, she turned over and that was when she realized, that there was something or better someone lying next to her.
She could feel the weight of another person pushing down the mattress and when she held her breath, she could even make out the quiet sound of another pair of lungs breathing.

Terror quickly spiralled out of control, but she didn't dare to make a single move. She lay on her back stiff as a board with eyes wide open in fear and as long hours passed, she debated countless times whether to switch on her bedside lamp or simply run from her room.
Not wanting to alert the entity to her wakefulness though, and all the time hoping that it would disappear without her ever having to know what exactly was haunting her bed, she did nothing and waited in her petrified state.

At some stage sheer exhaustion took matters into its own hands and the next thing she knew was, that she woke up to a bright and cheerful morning.
She critically scrutinised the space next to her- it was mercifully empty- and couldn't find any evidence of her nightly visitor.
Discarding the whole affair as a particularly intense nightmare, she tried to laugh off her silly fears and quickly slapped down the slight apprehensions, that the episode could possibly be connected to the owl incident earlier in the evening.

But when night came, he was there again in her bed - not moving, not speaking, his quiet breathing only betraying his presence.

She soon started to dread the bedtime hour, inventing excuse after excuse to delay the moment, when she had to retire for the night, and left on the light in her room.
In vain though, inevitably she would be woken up in the dark to his sinister presence just half an arms-length away from her.

And with him came the nightmares.

As if her sleep hadn't been disrupted enough by his nightly visits, he also had to torment her with vivid and often downright terrifying dreams.
Dreams where she would be chased through the mist by an unseen horror through a labyrinthian structure, fearing at every turn to hit a dead end or running into the waiting arms of her pursuer.
Other dreams were scary in a more subtle way. She would find herself in distorted and surreal landscapes and rooms, the colours and shapes too bright and sharp, with eerie people or sometimes animals closing in on her and not leaving off, when she tried to get away from them.
And then there were the dreams of yet another frightening quality and He usually played a major role in them. They worried her the most.
If she didn't bolt up drenched in cold sweat and shaking from fear, jaws clenched in unbearable tension, then she would wake up uncomfortably hot and wanting.
A powerful aching need would rise up within her and mingle with the shame she felt over the sensations the dreams were capable to invoke in her.

The sleepless nights were beginning to take their toll and her family started to comment on the unhealthy sallow colour her face had become and the dark shadows underneath her eyes.
Herbal teas, fragrant baths and other homespun remedies were suggested to help her sleep and she good-naturedly followed the advice, knowing all the while that it wouldn't help.

One night a few weeks after his first appearance, she woke up from yet another disturbing dream, where she had been crawling through high, dew-sprinkled grass into the arms of a man.
His skin had been hot against her cold and wet one, and when she had looked up to see his face, she instead had opened her eyes to the darkness of her bedroom.

Unsure at first of what had disturbed her sleep, she suddenly stiffened.
She could clearly feel the feather light touch of leather-clad fingers caressing her cheek and trailing further down over her lips.
With a squeak of terror she batted away the hand and hid herself underneath the covers.

But safety wasn't to be found there, and to her horror she felt an arm snake around her waist and tug her tightly against his unseen body.
All attempts to struggle free from the unwanted embrace were quickly stalled, when he just strengthened his iron grip on her.
So she lay there, panting from exertion and fear, and stared blindly into the darkness. Going back to sleep was out of question and the night had never seemed to last longer, as she watched the darkness slowly recede and the first grey light of day invade her bedroom.
Finally, the much prayed for sun started to rise, and as the first rays hit her window, she felt herself being released from his hold.

The comfort of a sunny day was soon forgotten though, when she thought about the torment the coming night would surely bring.

Determined not to succumb to sleep, she made herself a pot of coffee and sat down in her most uncomfortable chair with a book.
As the night wore on, the urge to sleep became nearly overpowering – her general lack of rest and the last completely sleepless night were all of a sudden crashing down on her with full force.
Several times she caught herself nodding off, head slumped forwards against her desk, and then she would get up and move vigorously for a few minutes to drive away the drowsiness.

When she opened her eyes next though, the room was dark and she was lying in her bed.
Her first thought was, that she had yet again started to doze off, but then she was fairly certain, that she had not moved over to the bed or switched off the light.
Her heart started beating frantically and sure enough she felt an arm tighten around her shoulders.
She realized, that she was once more cradled in his embrace, her face pressed up against his collarbone and one of her hands resting against his chest. She could feel the soft fabric of a shirt and warm skin on her cheek and her hand rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing.
She was being held by one arm, while the other hand stroked her back and arm in slow circling movements, which would have been soothing, had she not been so terrified.

He had never touched her before and she didn't know, why he was doing it now. Panic and confusion clouded her mind, while a small part at the back of her head also acknowledged that it somehow felt nice.
Fed up with exhaustion and the recurring terror at night, she draw in a deep breath and mustered all her courage to confront him, when the hand on her arm abruptly disappeared and a gloved finger was pressed against her lips instead.
The meaning of the gesture was clear – no speaking – and even if she had wanted to, she felt herself unable to utter a single word.

Every night from there on she would now feel the touch of his gloved hands on her body.
His fingers would stroke her face, her arms and her chest, leaving in their wake a scorching trail of fire and ice, that had her skin erupt in violent goosebumps of trepidation and curious anticipation.
She would let his gentle caresses wash over her body, shivering inadvertently, when his coaxing fingers would bring her unexpected pleasure, and quickly going rigid again, when his touch became too daring.

And then on one of these nights, he kissed her for the first time.
Her skin was still tingling from his intense touch and warmth had started to creep up from her belly all the way to her face, when his hands suddenly left her body and cupped both of her cheeks.
She could feel his breath on her face and before she could react, his lips crashed down on her mouth with a violence.
She uttered a muffled scream against his mouth and tried to turn her head away but he had her face arrested in a firm grip.

Kiss after kiss was administered to her firmly shut mouth, soft and chaste at first but rapidly becoming more demanding, when she didn't respond.
His lips then found their way over her chin and further down to her throat and she could feel his tongue lashing at her skin before his teeth bit down hard.
The feeling was alien and exquisite.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and a shiver ran through her whole body.
His curtain of soft wispy hair tickled her face and her nose was filled with a strong foreign and intoxicating scent that twisted and entranced her mind.
Unthinkingly, she locked her arms around his neck, fingers entangled in his silky hair, and brought his mouth down again on hers, making teeth and tongues clash, as she hungrily returned his kiss.


Author's note:

I post this story fully aware, that it might be a disturbing subject to some people. I want to reassure everybody, that I do not approve of sexual abuse!
The inspiration for this story came from Goethe's poem "The Erl-King" (what with Jareth supposedly being fae), mixed together with popular beliefs about fae, incubi and vampires.

The final chapter is on its way, just be warned that it will be more explicit.

Questions and reviews would of course be very much appreciated :)


Thank you so much for your reviews and questions! It's great that people are interested and I am glad for feedback positive or negative. So let me know if you don't like something or it it doesn't make sense, I am more than happy to answer your questions.

Quickly an answer to a few questions that have cropped up:

-I get asked why she always goes back to her room and doesn't try to avoid the situation. I see your point there, it's a bit like in a bad horror movie, isn't it?
The heroine goes into the dark cellar to investigate the noise, even though it's crystal clear to everyone, that the monster is waiting for her there.
First of all, you are welcome to draw your own conclusions, whatever explanation works best for your.
If you asked me, then I would probably tell you, that she may have tried in the beginning, but wasn't successful. Maybe her parents just scoffed at her fears? And who in the whole wide world would believe you if you told the truth? The key point is, she is alone with all of this. And later on she can't help it anymore, and a bit later than that she maybe doesn't want to anymore.

-Similar topic: Doesn't this poor girl have a life outside all of this?
Yes she does of course, but it's not relevant to the story. The purpose of this story is foremost to recreate an atmosphere and to reproduce the feelings the claustrophobic scene in the bedroom would evoke. That's why we only hear about that side. And as things progress there is also the point, that there is not much else in her life anymore. It's like a funnel and her life spirals in closer and closer circles around this one event, until there is nothing else left.

-No, he is not a vampire. "Bite" in this context refers to the kind of biting you would get in sexual encounters...