Labyrinth 1. Chapter 1

_I believe.  
_  
I believe in fairytales and monsters who lurk under beds. I believe in wishing upon stars, and I certainly believe in wishes coming true, for good or ill. One should always be careful when making wishes. I learned that a long time ago.

I live my life like any other person. Class, work, homework, sleep and repeat. But, I am always conscious of those things that go bump in the night. I mind the gaps and make note of creaking stairs when no one is around because, unlike any other person, _I believe in magic_.

The advent calendar on the kitchen counter informed me that it was Christmas eve, though it hardly felt like it. I was alone in our big empty house for my first solo holiday. Toby and my parents had left for Vermont while I finished up a Friday final. I told them to go. There was no sense in postponing a trip because of my unfortunate scheduling. So I ate a Christmas dinner consisting mostly of curry and nestled down in the living room to watch the Christmas specials. I didn't plan to spend the entire evening alone though.

I had a particular reason for minding creaks and bumps in the night. That reason was tall, lithe, and dangerously beautiful. He was one who granted wishes. _He was magic_. If Tim Burton's Joker stopped to ask me if I ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight, I could answer with a clear affirmation. I had danced with a devil and lived to tell about it. The devil never really left me. I did not see him, but at times I was sure that he lurked nearby, unseen, and unwilling to be known. He would not come to me, it was not his way.

So on this odd Christmas eve, I decided to invite him out of the shadows, not knowing why I felt the need to do so. Maybe, I was tired of wondering if he were really there. Possibly, I wanted to see him again. Perhaps, he was answering wishes for himself. I'll never know.

That night, after finishing dinner and cleaning up, I lit candles and placed them in all of the downstairs windows. Milk and cake were left near a place setting on the kitchen table, and just in case he missed those peace offerings, I made sure to leave the backdoor slightly ajar. Once these things were done I poured a cup of steaming tea and settled down in front of the fireplace.

The flickering candles and flames before me were the only light other than the twinkling of the Christmas tree. Dancing and crackling, the flames lulled me to sleep as I waited. I slept for what seemed like only minutes when the hall clock chimed midnight and I sat up.

Wearily, I stretched and allowed my eyes to flutter open. My breath caught in my lungs as a pair of shiny, dark boots filled my vision. The boots were attached to a long pair of legs which belonged to my wish granting devil. He sat in an armchair opposite my own, staring into the flames.

Golden light caressed his naturally cool features. He had always reminded me of winter with eyes of frost and a smile that could freeze living waters. One set of fingers rested lightly upon his lips while the other hung relaxed upon the arm of the chair. He sat in the casual slouch of a predator who was sure of himself. There was no uncertainty or lack of confidence in his posture.

While I studied my guest, I didn't catch the subtle shift of his gaze until his eyes finally arrested mine. We remained in a visual standoff for several excoriating moments before I forfeited the contest and looked away.

My eyes found my teacup sitting on the coffee table, I had fallen asleep with it in my hand, so I knew that he had moved it. The thought of his gloved hands reaching into mine for the cup made me shiver.

"I am not a roaming country spirit you know?" his voice was mocking.

"I know," I replied.

"There is no need to lure me inside with the ancient superstitions of peasants. All you had to do was call, my dear," he looked into the flames once more.

"I was only trying to be welcoming," I replied reaching for my cup. It was cold.

Unfolding myself from the chair, I ventured into the kitchen and turned on the electric kettle, "Would you like some tea?"

"Only if you put it in a proper cup. Nothing with dancing elves or anthropomorphized beagles," he snickered.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I replied starting to regret the whole idea. Making the tea calmed my nerves, but they began to unravel once I returned to the living room. He was too real, even for me, sitting there with his legs stretched out before him and a pensive frown on his fiercely handsome face.

"Here," I extended the cup to him, hoping to avoid his touch. Moving swiftly, he encircled my hand in his own as he took the mug in both hands. Pulling my arm closer to him, he took my wrist and placed a kiss on the sensitive skin, then he let me go and returned to his former position. My heart nearly beat out of my ribcage.

"Thank you," he examined the steaming liquid.

"You're very welcome," I tucked a leg beneath me in the chair, trying to appear normal as though I were not hosting a Goblin King.

We sat in silence for a long while, listening to the shrill conversation that the flame carried on with the wood in the fireplace. I was very satisfied to see that the great Goblin King made quick work of the tea even though I had put it in a "God Save the Queen" mug. It was somewhat comical actually.

His gaze eventually traveled to the Christmas tree shining merrily in the corner by the bay window. His lips curled into an interested smile and he moved gracefully to have a better look at it.

"I am fond of this particular tradition," he mentioned as he surveyed the various ornaments. "I used to watch your kind reverently bring in bits of evergreen around this time of the year. They placed them about their homes believing that they were magic because they could survive the cold when everything else perished. It was charming."

"Yes," I nodded into my cup. He was so lovely in that unguarded moment. Curiosity suited him.

"I know better than to think the tree is magic, although it seems magical. I have enough sense to invite real magic in for Christmas," I smiled.

He straightened up and tilted his head at me saying, "Yes, you did," with a smile that was never wholly pleasant, he was too impish for that.

"But why, dear Sarah, have you invited me in tonight?"

"I didn't want to be alone, and I know that you are never very far away," I stared out into the gathering snow storm, just beyond him in the window.

He continued to smile impishly not concerned by my confession. The twinkling lights of the tree were playing along his skin and dancing within his eyes.

Drawn, as a moth to a flame, I set down my cup and moved nearer to him. The last time that we had been alone together he had offered me everything, and I had refused him. Yet, he stood before me amused and open, without a hint of regret or ill will.

"Do you hate me?" I asked quietly looking up into his face.

"No," he whispered.

I reached out and trailed my hesitant fingers down the curve of his cheek and the strong line of his neck.

He simply watched until I began to draw back. Gently he encircled my wrist with his own long fingers and pulled me close to him. Then he returned the gesture pausing at the base of my throat.

Tilting his head so that he could speak into my ear, he whispered, "I want you."

My eyes closed and he kissed me softly at first, but then more eagerly-suggestively. I returned his passion, surprising myself. My hands wandered timidly across his chest and into his hair while he pulled me closer to him. When I was certain that I was about to burst into a thousand pieces, he pulled away slightly and seized my chin within his gloved hand. Desire made his face appear evermore dangerous.

"Fear me, _Sarah_, love me, do as I say," he traced my bottom lip with his thumb. His terms had not changed, and my heart sank. He saw the defiance in my eyes.

"I cannot do that, Jareth." A lump gathered within my throat and I felt tears gather around the rims of my eyes.

That was my offering to him, tears rolled down my upturned face, betraying my own heartache, which was more than he had received before.

"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear: because fear is torment. He that fears is not made perfect in love," I whispered to him with a weak smile. He wanted me to worship him, not love him. _He did not know what love was.  
_  
His face darkened and he let go of my chin to brush aside the tears I had shed. I closed my eyes at the softness of his touch, when I reopened them, he was gone.

I sighed deeply and placed my trembling hands on my hips. I stood there for a while just watching the snow fall. Though he was gone, I could still feel him.

When I returned to the fireside and my armchair, I noticed something sitting upon the coffee table, where his "God Save the Queen" mug had once rested, but in its place was a sprig of holly.

I picked it up gingerly, avoiding the prickly leaves, and smiled. "Holly," I sat down and cradled the offering lovingly. Holly represents protection, victory, and is the ruler of the harsh winter landscape, surviving all things. He would keep trying. "Maybe the third time will be the charm," I laughed softly as I wrapped a heavy throw about me. The holly sprig never withered, it lasted the entire new year, my own small piece of magic.


	2. Chapter 2

I love a Christmas labyfic. I hope you enjoy this one.

Happy Holidays my friends!

* * *

Laughter echoed throughout the candlelit hall of the castle beyond the goblin city. Evergreen boughs were draped across all available surfaces while mistletoe glistened over doorways and the sound of a singing harp filled the spaces between giggled conversations. Beneath the layered sounds of revelry, the sharp clack of a smart pair of boots could be heard as a slight man made his way across the ballroom floor.

The man was not the lord of the hall but a near relation. His cornsilk hair was tied back in a tail causing his already glacial features to more closely resemble a jagged iceberg—although a rather attractive one.

A piercing smile cut his lips as he caught sight of a man nearly as handsome as himself. Tall and slim, dressed in a crimson coat, the Goblin King turned his canine grin on him in an instant of recognition.

"Happy Christmas, Jack." The Goblin King raised his glass to his cousin after waving off the elvish women who'd flocked about him. The hollow-eyed women with their too beautiful faces lingered near by as the two charismatic figures came together, too tempting to completely abandon.

"Well met, Jareth," Jack Frost bowed majestically to his favorite relation as shards of white-blond hair slipped from the knot at the back of his neck framing his roguish face.

"Have you gotten yourself into any interesting mischief of late?" Jareth's eyes twinkled like the fairy lights that danced above them.

"The usual, although, I nipped a rather lovely nose a little earlier," Jack smiled brightly.

The Goblin King's eyes harden just a fraction as his head tilted to the side ever so slightly. "Oh?"

"Yes, you see this lovely mortal—eyes full of life—was racing through a snowfall at a Christmas tree farm a few weeks ago, a young ginger fellow following in her wake. You should've heard the raucous as they hid behind the pines. They were so beautiful, I just had to reach out and give them a little extra magic. I followed them home and painted a rather elegant mosaic of frost across their windows—the look of delight on the young woman's round face as she glimpsed the goblins gamboling across her window pane the next morning," Jack smiled innocently at his cousin. "It was pure magic."

Sobriety, a rare emotion among the immortals, momentarily clouded the Goblin King's face. "She was delighted?" He asked, voice low.

"Oh, yes. Enraptured," Jack nodded knowingly. "Although, she did seem a bit disappointed with the lack of variety. I think she may've enjoyed seeing a certain King among his wayward charges."

The sound Jareth made was somewhere between a scoff and a snort. "I'm sure she thought no such thing."

"Why don't you go ask her yourself?" Jack took a sip of ale from a cup he'd snatched off the tray of a passing goblin. He looked over Jareth's shoulder rather than directly at him. It was a risky question. Few knew of the wayward inclination of the Goblin King's heart and fewer spoke about it.

Jareth didn't reply, but a clatter arose across the hall as a choir of goblins struck up a rousing rendition of Good King Wenceslas. "Oh dear," Jack turned back toward the Goblin King to find that he was gone. With an impish grin, Jack Frost followed suit.

It wasn't hard to find Jareth. He was perched upon the windowsill of a picture perfect old victorian. Candles glittered in the windows and a wreath hung on the door as snow fell heavy all around. Jack loved these types of nights. He hung in the air, just a vapor, just a thought.

_I can help, although I know you don't need it, but this season is particularly suited to my brand of magic_, Jack spoke, his voice a ghost in the wind whirling around the barn owl.

Jareth didn't reply. His eyes stared past his avian reflection, past the flickering light of the candle into the room that once belonged to a girl. Gone were the toys and games. In their place was a more sedate and utilitarian setting, a guest room, even though her suitcase sat on the bed and her scarf hung on the back of the door. Time was a strange thing to encounter. How long had it been since he last sat on this window? A few days? Years? A life-time? Would he even recognize her now?

All these thoughts flickered behind his large eyes. Only someone who knew him as well as Jack could discern them shifting beyond the glowing orbs.

_Will you_? The owl turned its heart-shaped face into the north wind.

_Of course_, Jack replied. _Go back to your guests and meet me in the place where it all began when the sun shatters the western sky._

Jareth gave no word of thanks, nor did he tarry, the owl lingered only a moment before taking off into the dark night. But, Jack knew the heaviness in the king's heart. He was well aware of the faith that had been placed in his disembodied person.

With a skill born from centuries of practice the imp began to etch his message onto the frosty pane.

Look here young mortal,

heed my words.

Follow me from this place,

Into the early breaking of the morning sun.

I'll build you a world out of cold and snow.

I'll make you the queen of winter, tall and fair.

Make haste.

Surely that would catch her romantic fancy, Jack thought to himself. She did seem like such a wild, silly thing with eyes full of stars and a head full of dreams. What else could really turn the head of a Goblin King? Jack laughed, the sound of branches clacking against the cold windows.

When morning came, the woman, wide-eyed with bed-head, crept to the window and took in the words he'd left for her. With a grin she rushed to the door, pulling the green scarf from its peg before disappearing into the heart of the house. The sky was just beginning to lighten as the door flew open and the woman emerged wearing red wellies and a long grey coat, the scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. She stopped only long enough to look around at the snow covered lawn.

Jack caught the scarf and pulled it down the garden path.

"Hey, stop that's mine," she called into the wind, almost as it she knew he were there, Jack thought gleefully. She ran after the scarf following it through streets and lanes, twists and turns, until she found herself standing in a frozen park.

Jack set the scarf down in the middle of a little bridge that curved over the inert stream delightfully. By then the world was bathed in the rosy color that fit so well with Christmas day.

The dark-haired woman approached the bridge cautiously. She took a few ginger steps, casting a hasty glance over her shoulder at looming trees, their shadows sending long dark fingers out over the snow.

Jack began to work his magic in earnest. Pillars of ice spiraled up out of the stream, a small pointed roof formed above the bridge as the woman flinched, then watched with eyes wide.

Snow poured from the clouds, a swirling maelstrom of white, isolating the little bridge from the rest of the blanketed world.

The wind whipped the woman's hair across her face as she snatched up the scarf before it became a victim of the wind once more. All the while, an owl sat on the opposing rail, waiting to be noticed.

Straightening up and tugging the mass of hair behind her ears, her eyes caught sight of the bird.

"It's you," her whisper was nearly snatched away by the wind as she took a single step toward the bird.

In the blink of an eye, the Goblin King, still shod in his coat of red, sat upon the rail, gold buttons gleaming still even in the stifled light. "Hello, Sarah."

"Your majesty," the woman smirked before dipping into a surprisingly proper curtesy. "And, what have I done to warrant the honor of your presence on this glorious Christmas morning?"

"You accepted my invitation," The King gifted her with his own canine grin. All the sobriety of the night before gone.

"If I'd known it was from you I might not've come," Sarah crossed her arms and quirked a brow.

"Who else would be sending you preternatural messages?" Jareth tapped his mouth with one dove-grey finger.

"Oh, I was hoping it was Jack Frost, seemed like his kind of thing," Sarah smiled.

Jareth, however, did not.

"I'm only joking," Sarah dropped her teasing expression. "Red suits you," she said after a moment.

"You think so?" The King descended from his perch upon the rail and sauntered toward her, his quick grin returning.

"I imagine most colors do," Sarah took a quick step back. "What do you want?"

"Do you have plans for New Year's?" Jareth asked, ceasing his saunter.

"No," she replied, wary.

"You do now," a black invitation with scrawling golden script appeared in his outstretched hand. "Perhaps we could begin again?" He canted his head, wolfish grin well in place.

_She should bring a friend. _

"You can bring a friend. Preferably of the feminine persuasion," The king waited for her to take the envelope.

"For the sake of new beginnings?" Sarah's eyes didn't leave the invitation.

"Yes, no tricks," Jareth replied.

"Alright," she took the letter from his hand, shivering as his gloved fingers met hers.

"Good," he said as the wind died down.

Sarah turned to watch the frozen pillars and makeshift roof melt back into the frozen stream. When she turned around the snow was just a flurry and there was no Goblin King in sight. The only hint of his existence was the sleek invitation resting in her cold fingers.

Jack watched as the women carefully sheltered the present inside her coat as she scurried off the bridge and back down the path that would lead her out of the park. Soon she'd be sitting beneath a shinning tree opening baubles, but Jack doubted that any of them would mean as much as that piece of parchment.

He smiled to himself and settled back into corporeal form to lean against the freezing railing of the snow encrusted bridge. Whistling merrily to himself, he strolled off along the tree lined trail, watching snowflakes dance in the cold morning air.


End file.

Labyrinth, Fantasy, Romance