Sarah and Jareth appeared in a wide hallway. In front of them lay a massive door carved in the shape of a barn owl. The thing must've been ten feet tall at least; it loomed over them like an all-seeing watch-tower. Sarah's mouth hung slightly agape as she gazed upon the spellbinding woodcarving. The giant owl was of a dark, solid wood. Perhaps walnut? The only contrast to the nearly charcoal color were the two milky-white crystals set as the owl's eyes.

"Open," commanded Jareth.

Sarah backed, unwillingly, into Jareth as the owl before began to move. It opened its wings and raised them overhead. Jareth closed his hands around Sarah's shoulders, like a cat sinking its claws into its prey. The door swung towards them; Jareth pushed Sarah across the threshold. She nearly fell, stumbling over her own feet. Her black hair whipped around her face as she turned back to make a dash for the door, but it was already closed. From this side, it was simply a tall, rectangular door, no owl in sight; in that moment, Sarah supposed the owl really was a watch-tower, meant to keep her in rather than keep intruders out.

Sarah spun around; her adrenaline-heightened senses let her register the opulent chambers that were now to be her prison. She took in all the details at once, only to spin back and face Jareth, who sulked towards her like a tiger stalking its next meal.

Behind Sarah lay a luxurious suite. Befitting of her prison comparison, the chambers were lit by the fires of torches affixed to the walls in brass sconces. Vibrant, oriental rugs littered the floor and two separate seating areas were tidily arranged. One side of the large chamber held two large, puffy sofas with elaborate embroidery stitched across their backs and arms. Additional arm chairs, just as decorated, were grouped together with the sofas, all surrounding a low and long coffee table. The other side of the room was littered with bean-bag chairs, cushions of all sizes, and several technicolor blankets. The walls were lined with living vines and paintings whose motifs Sarah had yet to decipher.

Jareth closed in on Sarah and roughly spun her around to face away from him. He again pushed her forward; Sarah noticed now she was heading towards a doorway. She tried to dig her heals into the ground, dreading what waited in the next room. Instead of heading through the closed door, Jareth drug her towards the sofas on the left side of the room. Sarah turned and slapped him across the face. A growl rumbled from his throat. He threw her down into an arm chair. She tried to stand. He locked her in, clamping a hand down on each arm of the chair. Anger burned across his face. His jaw was set in a hard line, and a vein bulged on the side of his neck. They stared at each other; Sarah kept her gaze defiant, refusing to let her stare falter or her face betray her fear. The nearness of him sent waves of heat through her body. This close, Sarah could clearly see the color of his left eye was a green not unlike hers; was this perhaps a piece of herself mirrored in him, or he in her? But, while her eyes were a dark emerald, his left eye was a light, poisonous shade of green. This contrasted with the blue of his right eye, the color icy and piercing; Sarah, even in her rage, found them mesmerizing.

"Now, shall we act civilized?" patronized Jareth, pulling Sarah back to reality.

"I'm not quite sure you're capable, but I will certainly do my best," she sneered.

A slow, venomous grin spread across Jareth's face.

"I'm happy to hear that, dear." Jareth backed away slowly and sat on the sofa across from her. He snapped his fingers, and a tea set appeared on the coffee table.

"I don't think now is the time for tea. It's midnight, in my mind. I would prefer if you left me to rest," said Sarah, crossing her arms.

"All in due time, my love," said he, pouring them each a cup of tea. Jareth took his cup and sipped elegantly, eyeing Sarah expectantly. Sarah threw the tea a wary glance; the steaming liquid was light orange—peach colored almost. She couldn't stomach peach tea right now, especially not under these circumstances.

"Orange blossom and rose hip. I think you'll enjoy it," he said, his tone even and devoid of its previous anger.

Sarah took her tea and brought it to her mouth. Her eyes remained fixed on Jareth, her gaze unwavering. When the cup reached her lips, she stopped; she leaned back in her seat and held the cup out over the edge of the chair, raising her eyebrows in a challenging smirk as she dumped its contents onto the floor. It seeped into the multicolored rug over which they sat. Jareth simply sighed. With a flourish of his hand, the dark, wet puddle disappeared and her cup was magically filled once more.

Sarah crinkled her nose at him, but took a sip of the tea anyway. If her blood hadn't been boiling, she would've noticed the tea was an aromatic, delicate flavor that would've been enjoyable in better company.

"What do you want, Jareth?" asked Sarah.

"You, of course. Isn't it obvious? I thought I was perfectly clear." He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back too comfortably against the sofa.

"You know, you can't always get what you want," Sarah grumbled.

"So they keep telling me." The corner of Jareth's mouth twitched and his eyes sparkled.

They drank tea in silence, Jareth watching Sarah's every sip. He adored the way her lips puckered around the rim of the teacup, the pink petals of her lips blending in with the rose blossoms of the porcelain.

"Jareth, why am I here?" she tried again.

"I just told you."

"But why am I here. How? I defeated you. My will was as strong—"

"And your kingdom as great, yes I remember." He rolled his eyes. Anger flared up inside of Sarah. How could he act so casual, how could he act like they were two pals having tea and a chat? He had kidnapped her! Before she could say something, he cut in. "Look, you did win your brother back. Nothing in the rules says I had to return you; I simply had to return the babe. Alas, your will, invoking old magic, did render me powerless over you. But that was Sarah the child. Now, you are Sarah the woman. You're fair game, and this is a game I very much want to play." He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, ginning devilishly over his teacup and saucer. He took another sip, not breaking his gaze.

Sarah felt as though her heart had sunk into her stomach. On one side, she felt relieved it wasn't her birthday wish that had summoned him; she never would've forgiven herself. On the other hand, she felt dread; there was no Labyrinth to run this time. No tricks to beat. No test to defeat. She was held captive by a magical Goblin King high up in a stone castle with locked doors; how would she ever find her way out of this?

Jareth stood. "Please, join me on the balcony." He extended a hand to her. She spit at it. Jareth recoiled, narrowly avoiding her spittle. He grimaced at the vile action and snapped his fingers; a magical force pulled Sarah to standing. Her head snapped left and right, instinctively looking around for whatever moved her.

"I'm beginning to hate magic," she grumbled. She trudged after him, dragging her feet.

Sarah followed Jareth through a wall of glass. Sarah hadn't noticed the floor-to-ceiling windows under the dark of night. Sarah gasped as she found herself outside. The balcony courtyard was easily the size of a small dance studio. In the center of the balcony bubbled a giant, marble fountain. The gray stone with streaks of black shone in the glowing light of crystal lampposts that lined the balcony perimeter. The circular fountain stood three tiers tall; floating over the tallest, central spout of water was one of Jareth's crystals. Sarah supposed the magic of the crystals took the place of electricity in this world.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" whispered a voice from behind her. Sarah flinched, but she did not turn.

"Artisanal," she replied coldly, not wanting to let any note of approval pass her lips.

She felt the king try to take her hand, but she tore herself away from his grasp and crossed her arms, tucking her hands under the safety of her elbows. Jareth rested his left hand on the small of her back and leaned down until his face was next to hers. Sarah clenched her teeth and resisted the urge to look at him. Jareth simply smiled and made a sweeping gesture with his right hand towards the balcony's overlook. Sarah didn't budge. Jareth's smile never moved, but the muscle of his jaw twitched. He began to slide his hand from the small of her back downward. Before Sarah could scurry away from his touch, he nudged her forward. Sarah's breath, which had evened under the heat of her defiance, began to quicken once more as shivers crept up her spine. She moved slowly towards the balcony's edge. When she looked out over the Labyrinth, waves of comfort rolled across her; the Labyrinth lay before her not like a tumultuous sea, but as friendly, familiar waters in which she longed to swim. The Labyrinth pulled at her heart. Even as Jareth closed in behind her and wrapped his fingers around her arms, Sarah knew that one day she would make her escape, back to the Labyrinth.

"Isn't it beautiful?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," said Sarah. A lump formed in her throat as he ran his hands down her arms to take her hands in his. He crossed her arms over one another, wrapping her in his own as he did. Sarah clamped her teeth together to keep herself from quivering.

"My kingdom is beautiful. My kingdom is great. My kingdom is all that I have. My kingdom…needs a queen."

And for a moment, Sarah imagined herself as a monarch of the Underground. She imagined the magic. She imagined the creatures she would rule, she imagined the dresses and finery she would wear. She imagined the balls she would attend…

The ball.

Sarah remembered the ball where she and the Goblin King had danced. She remembered how it glittered and shone. She remembered the dancing. She remembered the dancers and how the men had groped and the women had laughed. She remembered how repulsive she had found it all. How it had been a shallow dream, a mockery of what was desirable. A facade. A farce.

"No," said Sarah.

Jareth's hands tightened uncomfortably around her wrists. He leaned down to her ear and hovered there for a moment before whispering.

"I wasn't asking."

~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~

As always, I have to gush about how you all are the best xoxo Jareth is now pulling Sarah not just into the Labyrinth again, but into his world. What will his trap look like?