So, a prologue full of pretty words and shiz...but in the first chapter, we'll jump straight into the action because I can't be arsed messing around with the tedious chapters where Sarah talk to her family or friends. Also, this WILL be in third person, past, but I'm doing the prologue in present tense because I can :3

"It is ending, Goblin King."

A tall man clad in tight breeches, a poet's shirt, and leather clenches his gloved hand. The leather encompassing his fingers creaks as he does. His whole arm begins to shake, in anger and even fear: a feeling no one is used to seeing from him.

The man's long blonde hair whips around his face in the intense wind, his dark cape copying. His eyes, one a curious sky blue, the other a deep mossy green, are screwed in some kind of pain. His perfectly sculpted eyebrows are pulled down in a frown, but his sour expression does not match his otherworldly beauty. He is of the Fae. More specifically, of the Tuatha Dé Danann. And he is a king. He exudes the regality of his position, but there is something else there too. It is not easy to place one's finger on it, but it is there, and it seems almost painful.

But now, he is as close to a mere man as he will ever be. He feels tired. His power is draining, slowly but surely. His domain is crumbling. He is losing everything. He has spent almost thirteen hundred years working for his position in this world, and it is now failing.

"Why?" he asks simply.

The woman by his side glances around. No, not a woman. A Goddess. Her hair is wavy fire falling to well past her elbows. It is wild and untamed. Her eyes are a pale and warming blue, the same as her basic dress which swirls in the gale force winds.

She is Danu. The Goddess. The One he follows.

"Because no one remembers," she replies calmly. "The rest of the Underground will thrive while your Labyrinth and your kingdom will fall. Ultimately, there is nothing I can do to prevent this. No one remembers."

"But Sarah-"

"The mortal Sarah has forgotten," Danu interrupts, serene. "A spell was cast the night she went home and fell asleep, and by no one in particular. The girl who ate the peach has truly forgotten everything."

The Fae man grits his teeth, glaring out at the Labyrinth. Its walls are crumbling to dust. The forest is wilting. His kingdom is dying. And he cannot stand it.

"What can I do?" he demands.

"You must make her remember."

"What?" the man rages, not caring that he is speaking to a Goddess. "I would not go near the little-"

"Peace, my child," the goddess beseeches. "And listen to me very carefully for I shall not repeat myself. In the future, there will be others who believe, but I fear by then it will be too late. Sarah is the last surviving of her race that can be reminded. Put your irrational hate for the girl aside, Jareth. Tomorrow morning, you must go to her. Bring her back here and make her remember. You will have thirteen days before she must be sent home - and that is how long I can hold off the death of your land. If she does not remember everything within the alotted time, there will be no hope left for the Goblin Kingdom, or the Labyrinth. Or even you, my child."

Jareth clenches his fists harder, grinding his teeth. It is ironic, he thinks, that none of this is very fair.

"What must I do to force her to remember?" he asks. "It seems too simple to merely lift the spell locking her memories."

"Anything," Danu replies. "Everything within your power. It is not going to be easy, and no doubt she will fight you. The girl is now a woman in her early twenties and she has long grown past her fairytales. She is not the person you will remember."

Jareth sighs, defeated. He cannot argue with the wisdom and advice of the Goddess.

"She will try to run, if I keep her locked away forcing things on her that she can't recall," he informs the Goddess.

"Perhaps you should let her," Danu answers. "This will be difficult for her too. Even more so than you can imagine."

"Because she's changed?" Jareth asks dryly.

"And because of the pain." Jareth flinches and glances up at his goddess. She nods her head gravely. "Yes, child. For every memory Sarah regains, it will cause her some amount of physical pain. That cannot be helped, unfortunately. Try to be there for her when that happens."

Jareth shakes his head at the goddess, incredulous.

"How can I do that?" he snarls. "I hate the girl. She will not trust me, and when she does remember who I am, she will trust me even less."

"Only if you give her reasons not to trust you," the goddess reminds him. "Now, go, Jareth. Rest well tonight. Do not forget this: she must remember everything."

So, yeah. Not the darkest Jareth ever, but there will definitely be some of that sexy beast showing up. Please review :3