Labyrinth 1
A shrill scream split the silent night air as a small figure returned from the land of dreams, sitting up straight and gripping an old, age worn quilt for safety. Hazel eyes darted around a heavily decorated room, vaguely recognizing the familiar posters, vanity, and an assortment of odds and ends, including a shelf of stuffed animals. The empty slot where Lancelot used to be was noted dully, barely a flicker of recognition in the back of a young woman's mind, still foggy and panicked from a nightmare. When the night remained silent, and there were no monsters in sight, the girl took a shuddering breath, her young heart still racing in fear. For she was a young woman, not quite an adult, yet still clinging to traces of childhood, as the room itself indicated.
Remnants of the dream flashed through her frazzled mind, a clock chiming thirteen times, voices laughing, telling her to go back, small creatures pushing her to and fro, walls reordering themselves, caging her in. Suddenly she was falling; hands grabbed at her, only to laugh and let go. It was so dark and she was falling, screaming and grasping frantically at anything, desperate for anyone to help her. But, even then, something kept her from screaming the name of the only person who could.
Sarah closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her pounding heart. Tears stung her eyes, and after a moment, she mouthed his name, still unable to even whisper it. "Jareth…" It was no more than a puff of air… but it was enough…
A pair of mismatched eyes snapped open as Jareth, the Goblin King, felt the pull of an unspoken wish call him aboveground. It was a call, but without the right words, he was unable to respond. He glanced down at his Labyrinth from his perch on a window in the tallest tower in his kingdom. He had been there for hours, daydreaming, pretending that he wasn't a king and didn't have a horde of dimwitted goblins to call his subjects.
He glanced down one last time before summoning a crystal to see who called, a strange hesitancy about his actions. He raised an eyebrow, surprised despite himself at what he saw. It was Sarah, his Sarah, and she was crying. He smiled bitterly. All she ever had to do was ask; He was a mere wish away. She wanted him but held herself back. He wondered if it was pride or fear that kept her from giving in to what she obviously wanted. Her rejection still weighed heavily on his mind, so long ago and yet the wound was still raw and bleeding. The thought prompted a small smirk.
"Sarah…" He whispered, enjoying the sound of her name. "Sarah, say your right words…"
