a/n Warning: Crackfic ahead.
Phantom of the Labyrinth
Jareth could understand when she put away a large proportion of her fantastic toys and books after her trip through his Labyrinth (he didn't approve, but he could understand). After all, she had deemed it was necessary for her to grow up...
... Just as long as she didn't move his statue from her dressing table.
Jareth could also (somewhat) understand when she started going out with naïve oversexed novices of the opposite gender, because it meant that she would soon realise just how marvelous he was, and she would come back to him.
... But, of course, Sarah was stubborn, and attempting to slug it out above. As she had for the past five years. Any moment now, he was expecting her to wish his presence.
...any. minute. now...
But what Jareth truly couldn't say he understood Sarah's twisted obsession with (what he'd dubbed) "That Musical". "That Musical" which Sarah had seen twelve times. "That Musical" which Sarah had subjected him to twelve. fragging. times, because every time he seemed to spy on her, she was watching it. "That Musical" which had made Sarah draw little pictures of a man in a mask with a dark haired woman that looked rather suspiciously like Jareth's woman, instead of sketching the deliciously smirking, half-naked Goblin King like she used to.
He was disturbing the balance of everything, damn it!
'Honestly, Sarah. A deformed man in a mask with a homicidal obsession for an above average opera singer?'
The Goblin King sat in his throne, crossing his arms, most definitely not pouting, staring at the crystal which showed his beloved, dressed in an opera gown, twirling around her room and singing along to the music which blared from her stereo.
Her room had been completely overtaken by her bandwagon obsession with "That Musical".
Really, when would she learn that he was much more interesting than some masked musical murderer.
Not to mention, "Erik" totally stole that mirror thing from him.
Jareth found he was never particularly fond of masks. With him, he found that they were like the wrapper on a sweet – good to look at, but even better when the confection was free of it, open to be eaten.
And surely Sarah realised that. She had, after all, seen him with and without a mask in her crystal dream masquerade ball, and she had appeared most pleased with the results.
Well, before she broke the ballroom and defeated him. (To this day, Jareth maintains he let her win. A mortal child defeat the Goblin King? Don't be ridiculous.) But Jareth chose not to focus on that.
Sarah just had to move on from this phase.
And if she didn't... well, Jareth would cross that bridge when he came to it.
Even if it meant finding the man who had besotted her and dunking him repeatedly in the Bog.
The Goblin King did not share.
Looking back in the crystal, he saw that the song had changed, and Sarah was now seated at her dresser, in the flannel pants and tank top she slept in, brushing her long hair, and singing along softly. Open in front of her was her newest lewd sketch of "The Phantom of the Opera", his head tilted back, and two distinctly feminine arms wrapped around him, one at his waist, the other with its hand slipped inside the open shirt.
"...Wishing you were somehow here again... Wishing you were somehow near..."
Something inside Jareth snapped.
That's it. He stood abruptly. He was ending this now.
And dear, sweet, naïve Sarah had just provided him with the loophole he needed...
From the first moment she watched the musical with Karen and her father, Sarah found she was captured by the story.
An older, powerful, stalker-ish man in love with a much younger woman. The man could not live in her world, just as she could not stay in his. But he could dream. She, mistakenly thinking him a deity; an angel of music. He, putting her on his pedestal and loving her from afar; haunting her in her dreams.
When she thought back on it, it probably appealed to her because it was so very similar to her own life.
So she kept going back and seeing it. Again and again.
Because each time she did, the characters seemed to morph into Jareth and herself.
It was... strange.
Sarah shook the thoughts from her mind as she continued brushing her hair and singing softly.
"... wishing I could hear your voice again..."
"Really, Sarah. If you wanted that, you had need only ask for it," Sarah span around, gripping her hairbrush like a weapon.
"What in God's name?!" she hissed, "Jareth?!"
He was completely engulfed in shadow – the only light coming from the candle on her dresser – but even so, the brunette could tell he was smirking.
"What... How… Nguh!" She glared, "Explain!"
"Well, it's elementary, my dear Sarah. Do you remember our first meeting?"
"Where my brother was nicked?" she growled, "Yes, Jareth. I remember,"
"And what did you say to me, you precious thing?"
"Give me my brother back?"
"I think you find, my dear, it was something more along the lines of: "You. You're him. You're the Goblin King!" (1),"
Sarah grit her teeth.
"Jareth, as fun as this trip down memory lane is, I really don't think you should be in my bedroom. Or my house. So either make your point or leave,"
"My point, my dear girl, is that you wished me here,"
"I did no such thing!" the girl squawked, "I'm not a fool, Jareth!"
"Are you not?" he leaned forward (still in shadow), "Precious thing, did you not say the words "Wishing You were somehow here again?"
Sarah's tone was distinctly suspicious, "I did,"
"Well, there you go. You did wish me here,"
"... Jareth, I'm not following you," he clicked his tongue.
"It's rather simple, Sarah. The first word you ever said directly to me was "You". I have so many names, Sarah dearest: Jareth, the Goblin King. High Prince Regent. Monarch of the Labyrinth, and when in the mortal realm, magic can get quite addled, so it will accept the first noun you throw at me as the title you're choosing. For you, it was the pronoun "You". Thus, the barrier you placed upon yourself after your trip to my Labyrinth was broken by your "Wishing" that "You" was around,"
Sarah's jaw hung open, her eyebrows raised and her eyes bugging out.
"That..." she finally muttered, "... is the biggest load of Goblin dung I've ever heard,"
"Perhaps. But a loophole provided is a loophole to be exploited. And so here I am,"
"Well, as charming as this has been, Jareth. I think it's time for you to leave,"
"Without giving you the gift I took so long to prepare?" he made a small noise of protest, "Not likely, my love,"
"Gift?" the girl pinched the bridge of her nose, "Jareth, I'm not going to take your damn crystal,"
"It's not the crystal!" he snipped, "Please, Sarah. Give me some credit for originality,"
"Fine. But if this gift bi—" the words died in her throat the moment the Goblin King stepped into the light.
There he stood, dressed in sturdy black boots, his typical black leggings, which clung sinfully to his thighs and—
-- and a black poet's shirt, open just enough to allow his badge of office to show through. Over that was a familiar black cloak which just brushed the tops of his boots.
Most of his hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, bound with a black ribbon, but a few untameable strands still fluttered over his mismatched eyes.
But, the most striking thing in the ensemble was, without a doubt, the white half-face mask he wore.
Sarah's jaw hung open, and she made indistinguishable sounds as her brain rebooted.
When her vocabulary had, once more, loaded, she found her voice.
And burst into raucous laughter.
That continued for a few moments, before Jareth sniffed haughtily and Sarah's giggles subsided into a few squeaks and hiccups. Miraculously, all the anger she'd felt for him only moments prior had evaporated, leaving a warm feeling in her stomach.
"You're dressed up as the Phantom of the Opera?" she finally managed to rasp.
"Well, I knew of your love for it, so I deemed it appropriate attire. Was I wrong?"
Sarah giggled, standing up from her chair and stepping reverently closer to the Fae monarch.
When she stood before him, she slowly reached up, her fingers brushing the skin of his cheek as she took purchase on the mask.
Jareth shivered at her touch.
Gently, the girl pulled the mask off and was relieved to see the handsome face was unmarked.
She kissed his cheek.
"It's very sweet of you, Jareth," she whispered in his ear, "But you didn't need to,"
"Didn't I?" he responded, snapping his fingers and bringing her sketch book to his outstretched hand, "The situation seemed to warrant that I did,"
Sarah stepped back, looking incredulously at him.
"Jareth," she started carefully, "Are you jealous of a fictional character?"
"No," he snipped, "Just merely frustrated that you spend more time drawing this masked lunatic than—"
"You're jealous," she poked him, "Admit it,"
"I am not,"
"Am—Sarah, I am not going to have this argument with you," she grinned.
"That would be score number two to Sarah?" he glared. She tapped his nose lightly.
"Besides, oh observant Goblin King, look closer," his look darkened, but Sarah's sly smile made him curious.
Mismatched eyes darted down and he examined the sketch.
The features of the man were sharp, but the way his body was drawn implied strength. Her embrace was clearly possessive, and what little could be seen of her suggested that she was, indeed, Sarah, her hand inside the dark shirt, above what would be his heart.
His face was tilted backwards, so few of his features could be seen, but the mask was obvious.
Sarah clicked her tongue.
"Look closer, Jareth,"
The monarch pursed his lips and squinted.
This was ridiculous. There was nothing else for him to—
Wait. Her hand was covering something. An amulet. And what little of it could be seen suggested that—
Sarah knew he comprehended once his eyes had widened. She bit back a chuckle.
"Why Sarah," Jareth drawled, "This is most enlightening," his gaze darted up and locked with hers, "I had no idea that your tastes were so inclined, you salacious little minx," the girl rolled her eyes.
"Yes, yes, now, Jareth, you can leave before you get caught," a dangerous smirk danced over his lips.
"I don't think so, my love. Not when I know now what I do," he stepped closer to the girl, "for," he leaned closer, his breath tickling he ear he whispered into, "does the Phantom not sweep his beloved away to his lair so he may have his way with her?"
Sarah's pulse was decidedly more rapid than she could ever remember it being.
"N-no," she squeaked as Jareth's arms snaked around her waist.
"Oh," the Goblin King muttered, "Pity,"
In Sarah's mind, cognitive thought was fast becoming an endangered species. At that moment, she knew that if Jareth didn't release her, she would soon melt into a puddle of Sarah!goo at his feet.
And it would be all his fault for being so damn seductive.
"But it is no matter, because the Phantom of the Labyrinth has come," he nipped her earlobe, "And he is infinitely wiser than that other masked loony, because he will steal away his woman and make her fantasies come to life,"
The brunette let out a hiss, closing her eyes as Jareth pressed a kiss to that spot just below her ear. Around her, the air swirled with magic, and the moment those eyes opened once more, she was in Jareth's bedchamber.
And she didn't really care.
However, before Sarah's mind totally switched off, she found enough brain cells which hadn't melted, and she giggled.
"Phantom of the Labyrinth? Very corny," Jareth laughed.
"Well, what would you prefer, my love?" she considered this.
"Jareth," she decided with finality after a moment, "Just Jareth,"
He snapped his fingers, and the mask disappeared (to the bog. But Sarah didn't need to know that), and he raised his eyebrows.
"Better, love?" She weaved her fingers together behind his neck.
"Infinitely," A devious smirk crossed his lips.
"Naturally," he pulled her to him, "Besides, I do look better in the mask,"
a/n (insert stock-joke about the Phantom of the Labyrinth being inside my mind)
(insert sincere heartfelt apology to any phans who man have been offended by the writing of this crack!fic)
(insert apology to everyone who was offended by this crack!fic)
(insert stock "please review" line)
(remove author as she goes to (finally) do her schoolwork)
The Flame Faerie
(1) I've taken slight creative licence here... Forgive me.