Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or the characters, though I do own the plot of this particular story and interpretation of a certain Goblin King.

His Sarah was fascinating as a grown woman, worlds away from the child of her youth. Not only did she grow into the promise of beauty, but she also grew taller and womanly, mature, like a blossoming rose or a blooming sunrise. Her beauty was more rapturous than what the Goblin King had first imagined when he'd seen the impetuous girl-child all those years before.

However, at the end, his beautiful Sarah was still mortal, and thus, his Sarah's beauty was the imperfect beauty of mortals. Nevertheless, the Goblin King could still fixate upon her for hours on end. Her face was brushed with sun, and her cheeks were kissed with light rose. Her eyes were still bright, and a newfound intelligence shone within them. But for all her human beauty and all his fascination with her, the Goblin King still recognized miniscule imperfections: The lack of symmetry in her brows, the slight wrinkle around her lips, the dark sleeplessness hanging beneath her eyes… Perhaps it was these imperfections that multiplied her beauty. Like a wildflower, his Sarah was beautiful, full of color and life that snuffed out quickly like candle-flame.

It was her mortality that made her beauty all the more precious, the Goblin King realized. It's fleeting nature disallowed anything else.

The Goblin King pressed closer to the glass ball. Inside, he saw his Sarah walking purposefully into the sparkling glass building. Today she wore a professional sort of attire, a set of slacks and a pinstripe shirt covered by her favorite black suit-jacket.

Within the confines of the glass ball, the Goblin King saw his Sarah smile brightly to a tall man, her current beau. Frowning, the Goblin King observed. Why did this man of all men interest his pet? There was nothing special to him. He was plebian. Absolutely plebian, unworthy of any notice, much less from his Sarah.

As much as the Goblin King knew that this mortal was of no consequence, it did not stop neither the fiery vengeance that scorched his veins nor the lengthening of his sharp talons whenever his Sarah smiled prettily to the man. Of course, it was completely illogical, but it was the truth all the same. However, soon very soon, the Goblin King would have his fun, his entertainment, this he knew with certainty. Caressing his Sarah's cheek through the glass, the Goblin King stared at the mortal man beside her.

In an instant, the man stumbled to the ground. "I can't see! I can't see!"

Sarah's eyes widened. "Jonathon? Help! Help! Jonathon- Jonathon- open your eyes- let me see! Jonathon-"

How tragic, the Goblin King sneered. There on the sidewalk just outside the building, the man lay crumpled, weak. Kneeling beside him, caressing his brown hair, his Sarah murmured worriedly and whispered sweetly into the man's ear. "You'll be alright. I promise. Everything is going to be fine."

Just so, his Sarah remained, soft caresses, doubly gentle words, even as the ambulance screeched and raced to the hospital.

It was many hours before the mortal healers, doctors as they called them now, gave a diagnosis. Optic neuritis, the doctors had said at last. When the doctors left and the beau slept, his Sarah red-eyed and stiff looked out to the city outside the window. She did this for many hours. Many hours. Many, many hours.

Frowning, the Goblin King spoke to her. "Sarah mine, why do you cry?"

Harshly wiping at her eyes, his Sarah pinched her lips in a tight line.

"Sarah", the Goblin King called softly, "Sarah dear, Sarah mine…" His voice was a soft lullaby that echoed within her. "Little Sarah, why do you cry?"

Continuously, the Goblin King murmured and called, sometimes harsher and sometimes gentle-voiced, but his Sarah did not speak. And she always spoke to him when he whispered. Always. Even with his booming whispers, she remained impervious. "You have no power over me, Goblin King", she would hiss. But now, his Sarah merely cried in deep silence, and her tears merely fell like rain, soft beats against the linoleum floor.

Unlike other visits, this one was quiet. There was no flurry of snow, nor of ice. No rain sliced against the walls, neither did the chilling fog. In the silence, there were neither whispering shadows, nor was there howling wind. Instead, the Goblin King merely stepped into the room through the shadows.

"You did this, didn't you?" His Sarah still stared down to the petty mortal.

"And if I did?"

"Then I hate you, more than I ever thought I could hate anybody", his Sarah said boldly, chin jutted and eyes flashing with roiling anger.

For a moment, the Goblin King felt a vague sense of clenching loss at the pit of his stomach, then the feeling was gone. In its place, a detached fury consumed his senses. How dare his Sarah hate him? How dare she? She was his by right, by virtue of her humanity and her arrogance in believing herself to Champion of the Labyrinth. If anyone had any right to hate, it was him. His Sarah, his fascinating Sarah, his mortal was always out and about giving herself to any man or any mortal passerby.

She gave them his smiles and his laughs. She gave any man what was his by right. Perhaps she was flighty as were many women and many fae wenches, but the Goblin King had been generous to her. He had allowed his Sarah her youth to do as she pleased, to be as free with herself as she'd liked. And now, now that he had finally come to claim her once again, she dared to hate him.

Snatching her chin, the Goblin King jerked her face up. "Hate me, do you?" His talons bit into her neck and face. The soft flesh gave easily and painted the Goblin King's hands red. "Wench, you are mine. You have no right or claim to neither hate nor anger. For how fair I have been to you, you should beg and kneel as you proclaim your gratefulness to this Goblin King."

"I'd rather die", she spat.

Cocking his head to the side, the Goblin King studied her, relishing the warmth of her blood and the softness of her skin. This was the first time that he had touched his Sarah in many years. The memory of her soft flesh against his talon-ended fingers paled to the reality.

"If you truly wished, you can die, Sarah mine," the Goblin King murmured. His Sarah's eyes widened, and her heart's crescendo rose, like the sweetest music. "In fact, you should be dead now, little mortal of mine. No mortal escapes the Labyrinth, not alive anyway. When a mortal steps foot inside, their lives are forfeit. Mortals aren't meant to be touched by magic."

"But-"

"Hush", the Goblin King whispered. "Those touched by magic die or if their bodies area resilient enough, they succumb to insanity. But you, I saved…"

Alight with dark magic, his eyes glowed in the darkness. A beatific smile, sharp with danger came to his lips. Deeper, his talons dug within his Sarah's flesh, finding bone. The midnight darkness shimmered with the tingling sensation of dark magic. Upon his Sarah's skin, pinpricks of skin and hair rose in goosebumps. For a moment, the entire room grew warmer and warmer, until his Sarah gasped as the heat scorched her delicate skin. In an instant, it all froze over.

Then, the world shattered.

Glass and crystal and ice swirled around them. His Sarah's mouth opened in a silent gasp. Howling, the wind viciously tore into her, tugging her hair and biting her skin. Then the world was dark once more, and the hospital room was untouched but empty of both Sarah and the Goblin King.

Original Posting Date: July 27, 2016

Word Count: 1299

Note: Maybe not the best in the world, but whatever. I might edit it if I have the time or someone convinces me... Anyways, I still find Dark Jareth pretty interesting to write. :) Thanks for the reviews! Those always help to keep writing. Eh, maybe I should say this now, before someone asks: This chapter was divided into two, because I have a thing for cliff-hangers. *shrugs* I can be cruel. :) I'll post it ASAP!