Disclaimer: Labyrinth and it's characters belong to Jim Henson and co.

Chapter Title: from "Foreigner's God" by Hozier

Waking came easily to her that day, with none of the early-morning fogginess that too often clouded things. Now she opened her eyes as if they had only been closed for a moment to reflect on some deep thought. And, in fact, there was one thought that had taken over the whole of her being, overtaking both her conscious and unconscious mind. Today was the day. She would finally be setting out on the quest to bring the Goblin King home.

Now that the moment was upon her, she was curiously unconcerned with it. Perhaps it was because she had restored some of her faith in herself; or maybe she was motivated by the ring of scabs around her neck that, in her stubbornness, she refused to heal. But mostly it was because she was too tired to worry about what the coming days would bring. Things would either work in her favor or they wouldn't, but only time would tell. There was no use getting worked up about it now. Stretching out her legs, she rose from the bed and dressed herself for the journey.

"Good morrow, m'Lady."

"Morning, Windle," she replied, smiling down at the goblin guard. At Arden's suggestion, he had been assigned the esteemed duty of watching over her day and night. Sarah did her best not to be annoyed by this—he was only doing his job after all.

"Might I remark on how fierce your ladyship looks?" he squeaked. Sarah glanced down at him and noticed that he was looking at her somewhat warily. She had chosen Jareth's studded leather jacket for the journey, finding it warmer than she might have imagined. And the armored shoulder was not a bad touch either.

"That's exactly what I was going for," she told him, patting him on the shoulder to show that—frightening as she might look—he had no reason to fear her. Content with her gesture, they made their way to the throne room to greet the rest of the public.

The bedlam of the previous day had subsided somewhat, the citizens of the Goblin Kingdom waiting for their new queen with patience. But what they lacked in euphoria, they made up for in numbers. There were at least twice as many goblins packed in and around the throne, as well as many craning their necks from the hallway just outside the main doors. And when they saw her, there was a mad dash to be the first to bow, the first and best one to show their loyalty.

Unaccustomed though she was to such subservience, she thought it best not to discourage them. For years they had had to struggle on without a leader, without anyone who took their welfare and that of the kingdom into account. They needed someone who they could turn to in times of need. And if they were willing to accept her in that role, then she would not be the one to tell them no. She accepted their displays as best she could, with gratitude and superiority in equal part. It would be unwise to let her subjects know that she was depending on them just as much as they were depending on her. A ruler should always appear strong in times of turmoil.

I can be strong. This was what she told herself as the crowds parted to allow her through to the throne. It was not that she doubted that she could pull through in a difficult situation; she had proven that when she rescued Toby. But this time there was so much more at stake. Not just the lives of the goblins and their king, but the course of her own life. Her whole future would be determined by her actions over the next three days. Was she to return home? Or be doomed to spend the rest of her days as a queen who had failed her people when they needed her?

These thoughts weighted her to her throne, holding her there like all of her bones had been replaced with shackles. And she found herself wondering if this was how Jareth felt, how all rulers felt when they looked out at the expectant, hopeful faces gazing up at them. All the portraits of kings and queens, looking so calm and self-assured, had not prepared her for how it really felt to wear a crown. Lonely. It feels lonely.

But she was not alone. Not entirely. Sarah was reminded of this when Arden and Will appeared at her side. Just seeing them brought such a wave of relief that she could have flung her arms around either one of them. It meant everything to have them there, helping her bear the load that she was being made to carry. It was then that she remembered the things she had said to Will the night before, and a leaden weight settled in her gut.

"Thank you for coming," she said to him, widening her eyes to show how sorry she was for forcing him to share the burden of her responsibilities.

"My pleasure," he replied, showing her a smile. She frowned in response. It was not a Will smile. It did not curl across his face and wrinkle the skin around his hazel eyes, and she was reminded that too often in his past he had been forced to pretend everything was fine when it was not. She did her best to convince him that she had been fooled, but it did nothing to stop her throat from clenching painfully.

"My Lady," Arden stepped forward, diverting her attention. "I presume by your ostentatious state of dress that you are ready to embark."

"Ready as I'll ever be," she shrugged. The call to action had given her the necessary strength to pull herself from the throne and to her feet. Windle came forward from the crowd with the fifty or so retainers that would be accompanying them on the journey. The plan was for her to teleport them all directly to the gates of Delicia's labyrinth so that they would not have to waste a day on travel. Sarah had spent the hour before bed practicing the transportation spells necessary to make the trip as painless as possible.

"Before you go, m'Lady." General Borg was clambering through the crowd, holding an awkwardly wrapped parcel under one arm. "This belongs to you," he said, presenting her with the package.

"Oh you cannot be serious…" Arden grumbled.

Sarah did not spare him a passing glance as she pulled the wrappings from her strange new gift. She could not help the gasp that escaped her lips when she saw what it was. Long as her leg and wide as her bicep, a magnificent sword gleamed before her. Her hand, moving as though it were detached from her body, ghosted forward to pass along its length, always remaining a few millimeters away from touching it. The steel was polished to a mirror-like perfection, the blade sharp as wit. She pulled back from it a bit, feeling that such a weapon would not deign to be in her presence.

"It's lived in this castle for as long as there has been an Underground. All of the rulers of the Goblin City have carried it into battle with them," Borg explained.

Her eyes flashed to his. "But—you aren't expecting me to take this with me, are you?" she stumbled over her words, snatching her hand away from the sword and cradling it to her chest like it had been disloyal to her.

"Why, you must take it with you," he insisted, "It is a time honored tradition."

"It is indeed," Arden interrupted. "Which is why it should not be besmirched by the likes of her."

"I'm still standing here, you know," Sarah snapped at him, hands on hips. "But honestly, Borg, even if I did bring it along, I wouldn't know what to do with it. I've never swung a sword before in my life."

"Well, that's the best part. You don't have to know how to swing it; it'll do all the work for you!"

"What do you mean?" she asked as he thrust the weapon towards her.

"You try it out, and you'll see."

Hesitating, she reached forward to grasp it by the hilt. As soon as she touched it, it seemed to mold to her grip. The weight was just what she could manage, the balance as suited to her as could be. Sarah thought that it lost some of its beauty under her feeble fingers, but it still managed to retain a condescending dignity. And it positively hummed as she sliced through the air with it. She came close to dropping it then, overwhelmed by the power she wielded. She ceased swinging it, instead holding it at eye level to inspect it more closely.

The crowning piece was a glowing red jewel imbedded in the hilt. The light from the jewel ebbed steadily, flashing with the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. Of her heartbeat. Light and rapid, like that of a mouse. It was hypnotic to her. And as her eyes burrowed into its depths, drawing color from it, she found that she was swaying on her feet as though she were caught in a dance. A dance that was nothing like the one she had shared with Jareth those years ago. This was something infinitely more consuming, more dangerous.

It did not take Arden long to notice the trance she had fallen into. Placing a hand on her shoulder so as not to surprise her, he reached around and took the sword from her grip. "She cannot handle this. Its power is too great."

Sarah was reeling, her eye unable to focus on any one thing for more than a few seconds. Everything was a blurred impersonator of reality, a painting that was bleeding water colors. She collapsed back into the throne and let her head fall into her hand as she tried to steady herself.

"What's wrong with her? What did that thing do?" Will was speaking, but his voice was far away and barely recognizable, as though he were talking through a fan set on high volume. And there was a strange ringing in her ears, a continuous sound that was suspiciously similar to the honed tune of the blade swinging in a wide arc.

She was aware of everyone crowding around her, asking if she was alright. And when she did not respond, of Will shouting at someone. "…get that thing away from her!" was the last thing she could make out, and it brought her out of her sluggish state in a heartbeat.

"No," she ordered. Her eyes fell on Borg, who was looking at her like he was surprised she was still conscious. "I want to bring it with me."

"That is absolutely out of the question," Arden said in finality.

"Oh, really?" she quirked, "Because the last time I checked, I was the one who climbed down to the center of the labyrinth and planted my token there. Which gives me superiority over you."

Arden's eyes widened at her for a moment before narrowing to a dangerous glare. "You little—"

"For the good of us all, Arden, do not finish that sentence. I'm taking the sword." She was back on her feet now, if only to show that she could. The room still spun a bit, but admitting that would do nothing to help her cause. It was not enough to fool Will. The expression he gave her almost made her double over, for he no longer looked at her with reverence, or concern, or affection of any kind. He just shook his head in exasperation.

"Sarah, just tell me this: is there something about this place that completely destroys your decision making skills?"

"Will—"

He did not allow her to finish. "Because you aren't acting like the person I thought I knew. Sensible Sarah. That Sarah never would have deliberately put her life in danger for…For I don't even know what!"

Sarah allowed him to vent his frustration at her. She supposed he deserved it after the way she treated him the night before. But that did not stop a nasty thought from simmering through her mind. I should have him thrown in the Bog of Eternal Stench. She blushed even though she had not spoken it aloud. It was an embarrassingly authoritarian thing to think. Something a queen would say. Worse, it was something Jareth would say. And she would go to the Bog herself before she let herself be compared to him. But Will could not understand where she was coming from. Something had passed between her and that sword. A sort of connection that was formed in those moments where it held her gaze. It was almost as though it were speaking to her, telling her that she would need it somewhere along the way. It was a prospect that both intrigued and terrified her, but mostly it solidified her choice. She would bring the sword along, no matter the cost.

She looked at Will, waiting for their eyes to meet before she spoke. When he finally looked up, she said, "I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be." He scoffed at her, looking away. "If there was any other way, I would take it. But I know this is what I have to do."

"Whatever you say, Your Highness," he ground out. He was holding himself back. Sarah could see all of the things that he wanted to say swimming just beneath the surface of his pale grimace. That he had stayed after asking to go, that he had been nothing but supportive throughout all of this, that he knew her…Knew that in the three years of their friendship, she had never been this headstrong. To him she would forever be the epitome of poise and rationality.

But there was more to her than that. There was a whole other side that he knew nothing about. A side that was impulsive, and deliberate, and even conniving when need be. Those were the things that had gotten her through the labyrinth the first time, and they were the things that she would be relying on this time. And she would not stow them away because they made him uncomfortable.

"Borg, bring me the sword." The goblin general jumped at her instruction, hastening to grant her request. He helped her secure the scabbard around her waist so that its weight was comfortably distributed. "Thank you. It's beautiful," she complimented.

"The blade is called Meridian, m'Lady. I pray that it will serve you well," he replied with a swift bow.

"I trust you'll keep the castle well protected?"

"With all that is within my power."

"Good." She faced Arden. "I'm ready when you are."

The advisor nodded, gathering the necessary attendants. As this would be her first time transporting multiple people, he had suggested they all hold hands in order to make it easier. The goblin soldiers were delighted by this, linking arms as though they were about to join in a cheerful song. Sarah, Will, and Arden remained stone faced.

Sarah grimaced as her hand was clutched on either side. Arden's was surprisingly smooth and cool, how she imagined a pianist's hands might be. On the other end of the spectrum, Will grabbed her hand in a firm hold, his grip more a punishment than a comfort. Her lips tightened to a thin line as she tried to ignore the feeling.

Addressing the crowd one last time, she said, "I leave General Borg in charge during my absence. You will all be safe under his command. The rest of us will return three days from now, you have my word." She deliberately failed to clarify who the 'rest of us' would be, thinking it best not to draw attention back to the promises she had made. Instead she faced towards the uncertainty of the future.

The Kingdom of Beasts, she thought, knowing that she would need all of her focus to get them there. She allowed it to fill her mind, to overwhelm her to the point where her brain began to throb. She could not see the magical particles swirling around her, but she could sense that they were there. It was working. She thought harder. To the Kingdom of Beasts. To the castle, and the queen, and to Jareth.

The last thought was the one that did it. The beads of light clustered around the party in a dense fog that blended out into a burst of blinding light. The citizens of the Goblin City were forced to shield their eyes as the aurora surrounding their new leader blazed with the intensity of the sun before receding back to a single point of starlight. When the goblins looked back up, their champions were gone.

Tick tock goes the thirteen hour clock. Jareth lazily followed the minute hand as it circled its way around the face. The steady clocking sound it made with each go around was near deafening in the absolute silence of the oubliette. There was no way to escape it; that ticking sounded even in his dreams. Not that he was complaining. The clock was the only constant source of company during his time there. Had he been more sentimental, he might even have named it. It would have been nice to have a friend. But every time he entertained the notion of naming, the only name that came to mind was Sarah.

Sarah. He supposed it could be a fitting name for his clock companion. It was as annoying as it was amusing, after all. But the name brought with it such a lingering degree of spite that he could not bear to speak it aloud. He thought about her enough as it was, wondering what she was doing, what she was thinking, feeling. It was an infuriatingly constant fixation. He tried to combat it in a reasonable way, by reminding himself of things he already knew. She was not thinking of him, that he was sure of. Her thoughts would be on school, and friends, and that admittedly adorable baby brother of hers. And if they strayed to him at all, it would be only in passing. The elaborations of a girl whose overactive imagination had thrust her into a world she had no business in.

In short, she would be continuing on with her mundane human life, blissfully unaware that her childhood nemesis was rotting away. Bored to the point of death, as it were. With one ankle chained to the floor, he did not even have the luxury of movement. He could stand, and walk a few feet in any direction, but mostly he just leaned against the dank wall and tried to find some means of occupying his mind lest it turn to mush.

As he sought out some useful endeavor, his ears pricked at a scurrying sound coming from above. His arched eyebrows rose in curiosity; it was not yet time for his daily meal. Could the brownies be trying to play another trick? Though excellent housekeepers and more than competent jailors, they could be meddlesome creatures at the best of times. After pointedly ignoring their pranks for over a year, though, he had thought to have put an end to it. Perhaps he had underestimated their stamina. Well, it was no matter. All he had to do was disregard them as he had done a hundred times before, and they would grow tired of him.

The sound persisted. He was growing less certain that the brownies were attempting to heckle him. Their pitter pattering footsteps were not concentrated around the opening of the oubliette, but rather scattered throughout the passageway above. As if they were running back and forth without cease. Could a prisoner have escaped? The very idea sparked a twinge of hope somewhere deep within him, but it did not take him long to snuff it out. If there had been an escape, Delicia would have sent more than a handful of brownies to take care of it. Besides, their footsteps did not sound agitated. The whisper light scuttling was more akin to excitement.

What could the brownies possibly have to be excited about? New cleaning supplies? He groaned in exasperation that these were the questions filling his days. His head fell back to bounce against the wall over and over again. He worried that he might get a bald patch from how often the gesture was repeated. this tedium he was was forced to endure would be the end of him.

"I wish the Goblin King would come and take me away," he grumbled just for the sake of irony. He did not expect a response.

"You called?" his sister chirped, appearing in the cell sudden and entire.

He scowled at her. "Not for you. I take it back." In truth, he was embarrassed to have been caught uttering such a wish. It was unbecoming of the king he was meant to be.

She must have sensed his mood because she laughed in response. "You should know better than anyone, brother, that what's said is said."

"True," he allowed, "Does that mean you're going to let me out of here so that I can run your labyrinth in exchange for your continued absence?"

"Hmm, tempting, but no." She conjured a chair, draping herself across it with exaggerated leisure. "As it happens, I was already on my way here for a visit when I heard your little request."

"A visit?" He did not buy that for a moment. "What could you possibly hope to gain through a visit? You've never come before."

"And with good reason," she returned, curling her nose in distaste. "You look even worse than I imagined you would."

To his annoyance, her words had gotten to him. He had seen his reflection only a handful of times in the last three years, but he was aware that that was probably for the best. A sparse diet and general lack of nutrition had hollowed his cheeks to the point of emaciation and leached the color from his face. His hair had long ago grown brittle and lifeless, only the strongest pieces remaining in their desired state of intentional disarray. He made a pitiful sight. Sunken eyes, the same black poet's shirt for the last three years, and dirt covering every inch of exposed skin. It was deplorable to see how far he had fallen!

And now Delicia was leaning forward in her chair, inspecting him as though he were a specimen under a microscope. Her perfect curls fell forward, grazing the sleeves of her gown. A gown that was deep purple. The color of royalty. Worn specifically, he knew, to taunt him. She was effortlessly at home in that color, as though she were born with shades of aubergine in her blood. No one would ever question her authority, her right to the kingdom. It was him they would question. He the ever disappointing child.

"You've grown so thin, love. Skeletal." She reached out a hand as though she meant to stroke his cheek, but then caught herself and decided the better of it. "You'd think I'd forgotten to feed you."

"You've sent nothing but honey lathered toast," he snapped at her.

"Did I? Silly me."

He knew better than to think that an apology. "The brownies eat everything but the crusts. Even you have to agree that's cruel and unusual punishment."

"I agree that they have an insatiable appetite for honey."

"Why have you come?" His limited patience was growing thin quicker than he expected. But then, she had always had that effect on him. The way she always managed to work her way under his skin without ever arriving at the point…

"I was hoping you might congratulate me," she answered, characteristically vague.

"On what?" he bit back, refusing to play her game.

"I've got a runner." She said it with the boastful grin of a maiden proclaiming to have had her first kiss. Jareth distrusted it immediately. Delicia's labyrinth was for defense only. She had told their father as much when he sanctioned its building. There was no reason for her to have a runner within her walls.

"Stealing babies now, are you?" he asked, trying to offset his suspicion with humor. She did not rise to the bait.

"Not so much a baby anymore," she purred.

His pulse quickened. What was she talking about? His eyes searched hers, desperate for answers, but she revealed nothing. There was only the impenetrable blue of her irises, glowing faintly in the dark. "What do you mean?" he was forced to ask.

"That she's come back. To rescue you, apparently; though I thought she would have been smarter than that. Shame."

"Who?" he demanded, his voice wavering, his teeth clenching because he already knew. Delicia just stared for several seconds, looking at him in that way she always had. Like she could not fathom how he had survived past infancy. Then, finally, she dignified him with a response.

"Sar-ah." She said it as two syllables. Two perfectly enunciated syllables that could have brought down the walls of the oubliette for all the havoc they wreaked within him.

She was not supposed to be here. She was meant to be at home, in the Aboveground, as far from him as possible. What was she thinking coming back here? More, how had she come back here? Without him she had no means of entry. Unless…Arden. Arden could have done it if he had somehow managed to locate her. But how? How? There were so many questions that rattled through him, each leaving a slice in the fabric of his mind when he realized that he did not have answers to any of them. Unaccustomed to dealing with such a fit of emotion, his frustration burst out in a most startling way.

"That pretty little idiot," he snarled, leaping to his feet to pace what section of the floor that he could.

Delicia's eyes widened; "Not quite the reaction I was anticipating."

"Hers is a ridiculous course of action. Surely she must see that," he justified himself. For a moment he seemed to have forgotten his sister was an adversary; he could not help but look to her for agreement.

"I certainly would have advised against it," she granted him. "Pity no one ever thinks to ask me. Though I'm surprised your first thought is of her decision making skills. I'd have thought you'd be more concerned."

"Concerned?"

"It is my labyrinth she'll be battling after all." Delicia rose from her chair, stretching languidly so that he would not see the grin that afflicted her features. He was so fun to tease.

Jareth stopped pacing. Of course he should be concerned, he thought. He knew what kind of dangers lurked within those twisting walls. The labyrinth had been built at time when his relationship with his sister was…less adversarial, at least, than it was now. He had overseen much of the construction. And the things that Sarah would have to face if she wanted to reach the castle…

"Turn her away." It was the first command he had spoken since being imprisoned. But with the force behind it, it was impossible to tell that even a day had passed since he reigned as king.

"I'm sorry?" she said through her teeth. She was giving him a chance to retract his tone. He would have none of it.

"Do not let her through your gates under any circumstances. Delicia, I mean it. Keep whatever quarrel you have with me between us."

"I wish I could do that for you. Really I do," she pressed a hand to her pale chest, over the place where Jareth assumed there was a heart. "But I'm afraid this isn't just between you and me anymore."

"Why not?" he roared. The sound reverberated through the cavern, bouncing back at him in various distortions that drowned out even the ceaseless ticking of the clock.

"Because she turns eighteen in three days. A legal adult by mortal standards."

Jareth glared daggers at her smirk. He did not need her to explain what that meant. The seal of protection surrounding Sarah would be broken. The forces of the Underground would be able to find her, to do with her what they willed. And he was powerless to stop it. Mainly—and he was admitting this for the first time—because he would be dead. There was no hiding the fact that she had embezzled his powers. Three years had been enough to show him that. But in three days, she would reap that power from him completely. Permanently.

And then it would be all too possible for Delicia to destroy her and claim the kingdom as her own.

"You unimaginable bitch," he spat at her.

"Ah, someone's catching on," she replied with soft applause. "I must admit, I was beginning to worry this place had robbed you of your wits."

"It would be indescribably ill-conceived for you to doubt me so," he warned. "I made you a promise once. I told you that if you ever thought to do her harm, I would stop you by any means at my disposal. I may not have much, but believe me when I say: if Sarah Williams comes to harm, you will know the extent of my wrath."

Silence held the two siblings at a distance as each considered the other. Jareth had made a bold move in a game he did not fully understand the rules to. He was waiting to see how she would respond.

"Your wrath," she said after a while, her tone dangerously flat. But only for a moment. "Listen well, brother. Your wrath is nothing compared to mine." She snatched up the chain the secured him to the floor, tugging it taught as the leash of a hound. "I dislike these threats you seem to enjoy hurling at me. I suggest you refrain from using them ever again. Or it will be your sweet Sarah who knows the extent of my wrath."

Ice was creeping up the length of the chain, fracturing of in deadly points. Jareth hissed when it reached the cuff around his ankle, the metal freezing to such a degree that it burned against his flesh. Delicia held it there for almost a full minute, her teeth clenched, eyes no different than the chips of ice at her command. He was shaking under her hold, determined not to cry out, though the chill that had invaded his bones was maddening.

At last she released him, the ice thawing to drops of cool water. Jareth collapsed back onto the floor, breathing like he had run a marathon, and rubbing the tender red skin around his ankle. His sister was righting her dress, and he knew she meant to leave, but he could not let her go without trying one last tactic.

"Delicia." He called to her, his voice soft. It caught her attention. "Please, don't hurt her. She is only a mortal girl after all," he beseeched.

His pleading had the effect he was hoping for, causing her to gaze at him up and down. Now he could read the emotion in her eyes; there was shock, and bewilderment, and more than a few shares of confusion. Even in all the desperation she had glimpsed within him, she had never expected him to beg. It took her a moment to formulate her desired response. But when she did, she smiled at him. A smile which grew when he saw it and subsequently descended into misery.

"Don't worry, love. I won't do anything you wouldn't do."

And then she was gone. He was alone in the oubliette once more, the ticking of the clock somehow louder than before, but not loud enough to drown out his screaming thoughts. Disaster was impending. That was a certainty. In one way or another, the next three days would bring with them such a wave of change that more than a few players in this game would be drowned. And there was no denying that, at present, Delicia had the best hand. Which was dangerous enough for him, but for Sarah…Well, the only way she would be safe was if she gave up before sooner rather than later and relinquished her powers to Delicia.

And, knowing how she handled my labyrinth, there is no way she is going to do that. The former Goblin King thudded his head against the wall in defeat, hoping beyond hope that something about Sarah Williams had changed since last they met. But with the way his luck had been running lately, he did not think it likely.

A/N: All hail the return of the Goblin King. Or, at least, what's left of him. Poor Jareth. But on the bright side, we'll be seeing a lot more of him from here on out. Which is great for me because I really enjoy writing from his point of view.

In other news, my Spring Semester starts up tomorrow, and I've decided to move the update day to Sundays. That will give me more time to write and edit uninhibited so that I can produce the best possible chapters. I can't promise I'll have an update ready for this Sunday, but I am going to try.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to hearing about Sarah's continued exploits in the labyrinth.