Disclaimer:All references to the characters Jareth, Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film Labyrinth belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

Chapter 13. Plaything

"Fair Charlotte?" asked Sir Didymus cautiously through the door. They had been talking for an hour or so, Charlie guessed. She had no way of telling time aside from how sore her butt was on the hard wood floor.

"How is your mother?"

Charlie smiled. "She is well. Probably worried sick about me and Thomas and trying to do everything in her power to get us out of this pickle." A chuckle escaped her. "My Dad – you've never met him but you'd like him – he is probably worried, too." Her smile faded. "They would know what to do. They would be doing something instead of sitting here."

"My lady!"

An urgent tone had taken over Sir Didymus' voice. Charlie strained to hear through the door, but she couldn't figure out what may have alerted the knight.

"Quickly, do you have a message for him?" asked Didymus.

"Y-yes!" she responded quickly to his urgent whisper. "Tell him-"

The door swung inward, or, at least, it tried to open inward. A hand persistently continued to try to push the door open. Didymus kept saying something but a stern voice hushed him. Charlie gave a cry and scrambled to her feet. Without bothering to brush off her already dirty pants, she stared at the Goblin King in the doorway. The furry knight peered around the monarch and up at Charlie with wide eyes.

"Normally, your kind sits in chairs and not up against doorways," he stated dryly. Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Perchance you were attempting to seduce the old fox into letting you out?"

"N-never!" she stammered as she felt her cheeks grow warm. "We were just talking."

Without thinking, Charlie found her feet moving backwards as the Goblin King moved forward. She kept a certain amount of distance between herself and the Goblin King as he entered the room. Before she could even think to make a run for it., the door magically closed behind him. She heard Sir Didymus yelp followed by the beginning of a pledge to find her kin. Charlie noticed that the Goblin King had exchanged his black leather attire for a more relaxed outfit of tight gray pants, a loose fitting white shirt, and black accessories. Even if he looked more relaxed, Jareth looked and acted very much like a king.

For his part, Jareth ignored the suddenly wary girl. She had lost some of her bravado, and he vaguely wondered why (and how to exploit this weakness). Glancing around the room, he noticed the shuttered windows and her distance from his person. Inwardly, he grinned as he began to toy with her. Moving about the room, he noted her constant distance of at least a foot away from the windows.

"You don't like my gifts?" he asked casually touching the dress resting limply in the chair. He didn't look directly at her. "You prefer to be covered in oubliette muck and dried rushes?"

"I know better than to accept gifts from… " Charlie began defensively, but a look from Jareth stopped her. There was a dare in that look mixed with anger and amusement at her sudden dilemma. Was he a stranger? She had known him in an oblique way; he had been the villain in her mother's bedtime story. She knew he wasn't completely evil… nor was he inherently good. Yet she did not know him. Was he an acquaintance then? Surely, not a friend. She watched him rub the fabric between his gloved fingers. She suppressed a sigh of frustration.

"It's a lovely dress, and very thoughtful of you. It's just…" she tried again in a more polite manner.

"Just?" Jareth asked without looking up. He examined the plate of untouched food on the side table.

"Really? Peach?" she said a little exasperated.

At her tone, the Goblin King merely shrugged. The dress disappeared in the blink of an eye, and he settled into the worn chair pretending to ignore her. An elbow propped on one arm and a leg thrown over the other did little to diminish his regal bearing in Charlie's eyes. Then he turned his lazy gaze on her, and she felt like a canary in the clutches of a very pleased and bored cat. At least he had stopped moving around the room. Charlie took a step to her left and then another away from the nearest window.

Suddenly, something made her hair stand on end. A sensation of electrical fingers sizzled and crackled over her skin. She didn't like it. She shivered and crossed her arms, but something soft met her fingertips. Looking down, she realized why.

"You're right. Peach is definitely not your color," mused the Goblin King in a drawl of bemusement.

"What did you- How dare you-What the Hell," she stammered all at once. Instead of her normal clothes, she wore the peach dress. The dress had an Empire waist that flowed softly in vertical lines from her natural waist. She couldn't place the material, but it was immensely comfortable against her skin. A border of ivory lace accentuated the gathered neckline and cap sleeves on her shoulders. Awestruck, Charlie couldn't help feeling a little violated by the Goblin King playing dress up with her.

"Thank you… You're very generous, Goblin King, but I," she began a third time, but he ignored her.

With the snap of his fingers, Charlie watched the color of the gown change from peach to a pale green. Only the ivory lace remained the same. She wiggled her toes and felt the plush texture of slippers on her feet. Gently, the sensation of magic eased away from her. A smiled tugged at her lips as Charlie lifted the skirt slightly. It reminded her of a dress she had seen in one of the movie adaptations of Pride & Prejudice. She forgot her protest for a moment. When she looked up at the Goblin King, she realized the implications of accepting his generosity. The reality of her situation came crashing back into her.

"It's lovely, but I'd prefer my old clothes back. If you would be so kind."

At her words, Jareth lifted his chin and actually stared down the girl from his lower position in the chair. Charlie blushed, slightly embarrassed, but she wouldn't be won over with magic and pretty dresses. She was stubborn like her mother… but she had inherited her father's mindfulness for tact.

"Please," Charlie continued with a smile. "I'd ruin such a beautiful dress. I don't deserve such a beautiful gift."

"But you are my guest, young lady," the Goblin King explained. With a wave of his hand, an ornate full-length mirror appeared before her. "It is unwise to refuse the gift of a king."

Charlie took a step back and instinctively drew in a breath at her reflection. In doing so, she stepped on the long hem of her skirt and lost her balance slightly. Before she could fall, a strong, gloved hand steadied her.

"See? I'm not really fit for such finery," she said looking up at the Goblin King beside her. Any other words she might have had died in her throat. Up close, Charlie could see the fine arch of his brow, the straight line of his nose, and the strong cheekbones of his face. What she had thought was make-up on his face was part of his actual being. He seemed to faintly shimmer in front of her mortal eyes.

"You're right," he replied. His gaze slipped away from her's, and he seemed to be listening to a sound far away. "Excuse me a moment."

Then the dress was gone… and so was the Goblin King. Charlie wore her dirt-covered and sweaty clothes again. Who knew what else she had encountered in the oubliette of the Labyrinth. Whirling around the room, she looked for any sign of the Goblin King, but she knew he had disappeared. She felt her unease at Jareth's attention fade. Yet heart still raced. She was playing a dangerous game here. One moment, the Goblin King acted as if she didn't exist; the next, he was intently looking at her. It was incredibly unnerving and confusing.

She glanced at the dress, resting once again in the worn chair. Walking over to it, Charlie lightly touched the ivory lace and then the pale green fabric. Her hand began to tremble. Quickly, she pulled her hand close to her chest and held it tight with her other hand. Tears stung her eyes.

"I have to believe in Thomas, in mamma, in da…" she muttered to herself. Her thoughts swirled and became a whirpool of doubt and uncertainty. Am I his prisoner? A plaything? What will happen to me if they don't save me? Angry at herself for doubting, she ripped the dress out of the chair and threw it to the floor.

"I will not be your plaything. I will not be won over by your tricks," she half-growled at the offending garment. Her vision was blurry as she slumped into the chair. I can't doubt. I can't… What would Da do? What would Mamma do? Charlie thought. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she thought about her situation… and the Goblin King.

Time passed. Her tears had dried on her cheeks. Her eyes felt raw. She sniffled loudly and in an unladylike manner. Her knees had come up, and she hugged them to her chest. Her chin rested on top of her knees as she stared at the door of tower prison. Vaguely, she thought about fairy tales and myths involving towers and evil wizards and labyrinths. She thought about Sir Didymus and if he was still on the other side of the door. She wondered if he would help her beyond taking messages to Thomas. She thought about Jareth and her mother, the Goblin King and the heroine of the story. She mulled over the knowledge that her mother could have been the Goblin Queen, that Jareth had wanted to make her his consort, and that he seemed sincere about it, too. It made her head hurt… or perhaps that had been from trying to not sob. Da always told her that crying didn't solve any problems; actions solve your problems. Ma argued that a few tears were okay once in a while, and Charlie felt that this had been one of those times.

She rubbed at her eyes and felt her legs protest at her cramped position in the worn chair. In that moment, she felt something shift in the air and change. When Charlie opened her eyes, she saw the one individual she did not want to see.

"Now then, my dear, shall we continue our…" came his voice as he materialized in the room. He was adjusting the edge of his glove when his boot's toe kicked the edge of the green puddle that was the dress. Slowly, the Goblin King raised his gaze from the dress to the rug to the defensive and defiant girl in the chair. Charlie raised her chin a little. She knew she probably looked horrible, but she didn't care.

"Our discussion on gifts and manners?" she questioned. Reaching up, she tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "I'd rather not."

To Charlie's surprise, Jareth appeared… stunned. She waited patiently for a witty retort or kingly command, but the silence stretched out between them.

For his part, the moment was too surreal. Long ago, he had seen a similar scene – a dark-haired girl, young and gawky on the verge of womanhood, held her knees tightly to her chest. Instead of being in a tower's room, the girl had been sitting on a gazebo's bench. The smell of spring tickled his nose at the memory. The air had been pungent with earth and grass and pine and… her. Back then, he had felt a pang of desire for the girl's misery. At the time, the prick struck him as so odd that he angrily had refused it had happened for a year afterward. Thereafter, he had kept seeking out that girl. The girl had become a young woman, and she fascinated him. Before he realized what had happened, he had fallen in love with that stubborn, raven-haired young woman… and she had broken his heart. Right now, his heart felt like it was wrapped in a net of old desire, caution at this strange creature, and revulsion at his own reaction.

"Are you all right?"

A voice – so similar and feminine but wasn't – pulled him back to himself. Olive eyes tinged with brown met his and broke the spell.

"You look terrible," he muttered turning away to stride to the window. The open wound of his exposed feelings galled him immediately.

"So do you."

He glared at the girl over his shoulder. She glared back. The silence, tense and unsettled, crept between them again. Charlie moved in the chair and stretched her legs. Moving her toes in her shoes, she felt the tingling feeling rise up and then fade. Meanwhile, the Goblin King opened the nearest window and stared out at his kingdom. Charlie felt the breeze and watched it swirl the rushes, but she refused to look over at the window and Jareth.

"Come to the window," he commanded suddenly.

"I'd rather not," she replied quietly.

"I will not repeat myself, girl."

"I don't really…" hedged Charlie, refusing to move at his commands. She felt a tug of magic trying to draw her to the window. Stubbornly, she set her feet apart on the ground and willed herself to stay. She didn't move. The magic intensified.

"You would do well to learn to do as your monarch says," he replied with a hint of anger at her disobedience. He didn't turn around to look at her.

"You aren't my king yet," she snapped back as she continued to fight the pull. "You can't just do anything you want with-"

All it took was a gloved finger beckoning her to him. Magic crackled and swelled. On moment, Charlie was standing by the worn chair, and the next she was standing outside of the tower's window. Staring down at the world, she felt immediate panic clutch her. Charlie tried to find her voice to scream, but she couldn't. She couldn't breathe.

"You'll be a goblin soon enough," he stated calmly as if to a young child. "You would do well to listen to your monarch… or worse can happen to you."

In the blink of an eye, Charlie was back in the tower. She felt the floorboard beneath her feet and she dropped to her knees, gasping for air. Her vision started to blur at the edges, and she closed her eyes in a vain attempt to keep the vertigo at bay. Reaching out, she found the chair's front. Worn and solid, she tried to focus on the feeling of the faded fabric underneath her finger tips. Slowly, Charlie's breath came back to her. When she calmed down enough, she dared to glance over at the Goblin King. He still stared out of the window.

"Now then…" he began. "If you do not behave, I will do worse than hang out of this tower's window. Perhaps the bog of Eternal Stench… or a never-ending oubliette." He paused as if he was considering which would be worse for her. Upon making his choice, he continued, "Your cousin has escaped my dungeon. However, he may be in more trouble than he realizes. The dark creature he travels with is a púca. They are known tricksters. Did you see them running through my castle grounds?"

"No," croaked out Charlie. She bit back a sarcastic response.

"Your cousin thinks he can find a way to save you…"

"He will."

"It's pointless. The deal is done. He wished you away, and he meant those words. He denied the opportunity to save you-"

"There is always a way."

"There isn't," he responded and he mulled over whether he should tell her what he knew. He had received a response to his letter… and the news had not been promising.

"Why are you so cruel?"

The question made him turn to look at her. He felt both curious and affronted at her accusatory question.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I-I'm scared of heights. Badly," she began. "And what do you do? You throw me up in the air. You toss me out of a tower window and let me hover there. Thousands of feet up. So high up…" She paused and tried to keep the tears down. "You've made your point. I'm a prisoner here… I'm a prisoner in a strange land that I've only known as a fairy tale…. I'm the prisoner of a king with magic. And he's not a human for that matter. And you… you can use magic to manipulate me like I'm some puppet. And now, you… y-you're giving me some hope and then ripping all of it away." She paused again and her voice trembled as she spoke. "I hate you, Jareth." Her gaze dropped. She couldn't bring herself to continue to look at him. She felt disgusted and nauseous.

"Leave me, Goblin King," she commanded in a whisper. "I'm in no mood for your games anymore."

When she finished, Charlie slumped back into the worn chair and resumed her position from before. She turned her head so her gaze focused on the swirls of fabric on the back of the chair. But the swirls seemed to twist and blur before her eyes. She closed them to stop the room from spinning. That and she didn't want to see Jareth's stunned face anymore.

Instead of leaving by magic, Charlie heard the sound of his boots crossing the floor from the window to the door. She heard the ancient door swing open on those damnable rusty hings. She heard Sir Didymus acknowledge his king then say her name as a question, and then the sound of that door closing once more. A light breeze, warm and fragrant, carried the chaotic sound of goblin voices up to her tower prison and it rustled her hair.