The Enticement

Disclaimer: The characters and settings depicted on this story are the legal property of The Jim Henson Company. They have been used without permission and no copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this story, and it was created for fan appreciation and entertainment purposes only.


~*~*~*~*~

After dinner, Sarah was pleased when Jareth helped her carry the dishes to the kitchen counter.

As she began to fill the sink up with soapy water, she was even more surprised when he offered to help her clean up.

"I am unfamiliar with scullery duties," Jareth said, looking doubtfully at the bubbles frothing in the sink, "but I am willing to assist you."

"You've never washed a dish in your life, have you?" Sarah said, looking at him thoughtfully.

"There are servants who attend to those matters," he said, a slight haughtiness coloring his voice.

Sarah grinned to herself. 'You can take the royalty out of the castle,' she thought. She began washing the dishes and gave him a sidelong look. "And what do the servants get in exchange?"

"They are given a wage and I provide them with a safe kingdom in which to live," he said.

"You do?" she asked a bit skeptically.

He arched an eyebrow. "Who do you suppose attends political gatherings? Prevents the other kingdoms from usurping Goblin territory? Settles the disputes between the minor nobles? Hears grievances from his subjects?"

"You do that?" Sarah was surprised.

"That and much more," he said, placing his hands on his hips. "Being a king isn't quite what the tales of your world depict. Who do you think makes certain that the roads are built and the bridges are kept in good repair?" Jareth paused and shot her a pointed look. "I should send you a bill for that, by the way."

Sarah gave a snort of laughter and he smiled.

She looked over at him and sobered. "Are you a good king?" she asked seriously.

He tilted his head and his tone matched hers, "Ask any man if he is good and he will answer yes, regardless of whether it is the truth because he wants to you to believe that he is good. Ask a king if he is a good king and he will answer yes because he cannot afford to state otherwise."

Sarah rinsed off the last dish and placed it in the drain rack. She dried her hands and turned to face him. "Then I'm using one of my questions. Complete and total honesty. Are you a good king?"

His smile faded and for a long moment she thought he wasn't going to answer.

"I endeavor to be a good king," he said finally, "but I cannot answer that question with any certainty. Goblins are virtually indestructible creatures with limited intelligence and they require a very firm hand. They are difficult to rule and knowing what is most beneficial to them is sometimes unclear." Jareth hesitated. "I do my best."

Sarah nodded. It was an honest answer.

"You try to take care of your subjects. I'd say that makes you a good king." Sarah smiled and then suddenly remembered dessert. "Damn," she exclaimed.

"Does that disappoint you?" Jareth looked confused.

"No," Sarah said. "I forgot dessert. I bought cookies but we haven't unpacked them yet. I'll go dig through the bags and see if I can find them. Then I'll make tea and we can finish asking the questions."

Jareth shook his head. "I will look for them while you make tea. It will save time. I wish to ask my questions next."

"All right. They're butter cookies. They're in a round tin with a picture of a snowman on the lid."

~*~*~*~*~

"A snowman?" He surely hadn't heard her correctly.

Sarah laughed. "If it ever stops snowing, I'll show you what a real one looks like. Imagine a very crude figure kind of sculpted out of snow and that's what a snowman looks like."

He gave a bemused shake of his head, but went into the storage room to look for the cookies.

Sarah had surprised him. He had expected all her questions to deal directly with herself or with his intentions toward her. He had not considered that she would want to know about his duties or if he thought himself a good king. He'd never encountered a woman who had cared to ask. They were only ever interested in what he could do for them. Or to them...

Jareth blinked as it occurred to him that Sarah was the first woman to say that she believed him to be a good king.

He quickly dismissed those thoughts. It wouldn't do to become sidetracked. He would use his questions to determine exactly how best to proceed with his seduction. Then, once he had granted Sarah's dreams, he would be free to return to the Underground and to take her back with him.

He began looking through the bags when a flash of gold caught his attention. He reached into the bag and lifted out a bottle of champagne affixed with a red bow. He looked into the bag again and found a bottle of Chardonnay and bottle of Pinot Noir, both had similar red bows attached as if they were to be a gift.

He hadn't realized that Sarah had purchased wine. The Pinot Noir would have gone nicely with dinner. Suddenly, he recalled answering the door at Sarah's apartment. There had been a visit from a woman, he vaguely remembered. Hadn't she given him a bag for Sarah? He had been in such pain that it had been all he could do to keep to his feet, much less remember what the woman had said. Something about a present and portraits, wasn't it? And flesh and blood being warmer than paint and canvas.

A beige folder remained inside the bag and, curious, Jareth pulled it out. A note was attached to the front of the folder.

Sarah, don't get mad, but I had a little quickie brochure made up. I still don't understand why you won't you sell these. I thought if I got you drunk, you'd consider it. Give it some thought, sweetie. It's a lot of money and the buyer is a well-known collector. This could really help your career. Merry Christmas, Jean.

Jareth opened the folder and his mouth dropped open in surprise. A slick piece of paper proclaimed "Jareth, the Goblin King" across the top in swirling script. Below his name and title, in slightly smaller lettering, were the words, "An oil on canvas series by Sarah Williams."

Across the page were color pictures of four paintings. He was the subject of each.

Each portrayed him from Sarah's perspective as she had encountered him eight years ago. The first was entitled 'Temptation' and depicted him holding a crystal out toward the viewer. He was dressed formally and his expression was one of self-assured arrogance.

In the second portrait, 'Dangers Untold,' he stood in the tunnels under the Labyrinth, head tilted to one side, casually adjusting a glove. Jareth nodded to himself as he remembered that encounter. It had been just before he'd set the Cleaners on Sarah and the dwarf.

The background of the third painting, 'Cruelty,' was the room he had created after seeing a poster in her bedroom. Again, he held a crystal but this time it wasn't being used to entice, it was clearly a threat.

The last portrait, entitled 'Temptation Revisited,' was the sight of him once again holding out a crystal. He recognized his clothing and briefly shuddered. He'd been so close to reverting to owl form during that exchange that even his clothing had reflected it. He had been furious that someone had at last solved the Labyrinth, and humiliated that he was being compelled to offer himself to her. His every instinct had screamed at him to simply fly away from the horrible situation but he had forced himself to stay.

When Sarah had refused him, he'd known that she was too young. His only option had been to allow her to go, and try to make the Labyrinth understand his actions.

He examined the pictures again. He was amazed at how well Sarah had captured his likeness. While he had told her that her drawings were simply adequate, she was actually a skilled artist. The Labyrinth had truly given her a wonderful gift.

As he looked at the paintings, the potential of the paper he held in his hand became crystal clear.

He grinned to himself in delight.

Sarah should find his first question most interesting.

~*~*~*~*~

"I would like to ask my first question now," Jareth said as he came out of the storage room.

Sarah noticed that he hadn't found the cookies. Damn, those were her favorites, too. She hoped they hadn't fallen out in the trunk of the car. Maybe Jareth had just overlooked them in the storage room. She'd check in a minute.

"Okay," she said, "Go ahead."

"Would you care to explain this?" Jareth drawled. He held a folder of some kind out to her.

Puzzled, Sarah took the folder from his hand and felt the blood drain from her face as she read the note attached to the front. She quickly opened the folder and looked at the brochure inside. She knew her mouth was opening and closing like some demented goldfish but she couldn't seem to force out any sound.

'Oh, Jean,' Sarah thought. 'If I ever see you again, you're a dead woman.'

Sarah crumpled the brochure in her fist and then tossed the folder onto the kitchen counter. She didn't know how Jareth got it, but it really didn't matter now.

Just what the hell was she supposed to say? 'Well, Jareth, you see, I had a terrible crush on you for years and felt compelled to paint your portrait over and over again. Oh, and while we're at it, let me tell you about the recurring dream I had about you, me and a jar of caramel sauce.'

She couldn't look at him. She wouldn't look at him.

But she did.

Jareth wore a faint smile and the look of self-satisfied insolence on his face was enough to make her want to slap him. And she would, too. Just as soon as she crawled out of the hole she was hoping would swallow her up any second now.

She closed her eyes briefly. She had to answer. She had promised to answer those questions completely and with total honesty. At that thought, something occurred to her. She turned it over in her mind until she was satisfied, took a deep breath, and then looked directly into Jareth's eyes.

"No," Sarah said firmly. "I wouldn't care to explain this. I wouldn't care to explain this at all. Explaining this would be unpleasant. And that is a complete and honest answer."

~*~*~*~*~

When Sarah answered, Jareth was momentarily infuriated. But he had to admit that his haste had caused him to word the question poorly. He felt a fleeting admiration; her answer was worthy of a fae. It was, in fact, the very type of answer that he would have given had the situation been reversed. He lifted an eyebrow as he looked her over. Perhaps there was more to her than he had first thought.

He applauded mockingly. "Very good, Sarah. I shall be more deliberate in my choice of words from this point forward."

He smiled slowly as she dropped her eyes.

The teakettle began a stuttering whistle and Sarah said warily, "I'll make the tea and then you can ask your next question."

Sarah procrastinated as long as she could, dragging out the process of steeping the tea and pouring it into mugs. She even rinsed the mugs in hot water before pouring the tea, just like she'd read in a magazine. But stalling wasn't doing any good. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jareth waiting patiently on the sofa, watching her every movement with glittering eyes.

With a sigh, she carried the tea over and sat on the sofa next to him.

"Go ahead," she said evenly. "Ask."

He smirked at her and then asked, "Why would you repeatedly paint my portrait and then refuse to sell them?"

Sarah thought for a moment before answering. There wasn't going to be a slippery way out of this question. She bowed her head and stared at her fingers gripping the handle of the mug.

"I really don't know why I painted so many portraits of you," she said quietly. "Now I believe that it was because of the Labyrinth. At the time, though, all I knew was that it was like a compulsion. I had to paint them. It was almost as if I didn't have a choice. Jean kept trying to convince me to sell, but I..."

Sarah could feel her face growing hot and she took a deep breath. It was better to just get this over with.

"I'd had such a crush on you when I went through the Labyrinth that I didn't want to sell them." That sentence tumbled out in a rush of words and Sarah immediately tensed, waiting for the laughter that was certain to follow.

~*~*~*~*~

Jareth's smile widened as she spoke. He'd already suspected as much, but Sarah had given her word to answer completely and truthfully and he'd wanted to know if she would adhere to that promise even if it embarrassed her. It was very apparent that she now expected to be ridiculed.

He instinctively opened his mouth to oblige her with a scornful comment and then paused as her earlier words whispered through his mind.

I'd say that makes you a good king.

And Jareth wavered in his intent.

Well, it was such a small matter, after all, he decided. It would serve no real purpose to tease Sarah. In fact, it would only increase her embarrassment and hinder his plans. He could afford to be magnanimous.

"You were supposed to be infatuated with me," he admitted.

Her head whipped around toward him. "What did you say?"

He shrugged slightly. "It is a part of my duties to distract those who choose to go through the Labyrinth. While I use any number of methods, young girls seem to be most easily distracted by a bit of flirtation."

"So you flirt with them in order to keep the child," she said flatly.

He shook his head. "No, I attempt to distract them from retrieving the child."

"Same thing," she said.

"It is not the same at all. If they can be so easily tempted away from their goal, they do not deserve to have the child returned to them."

He watched as she absorbed that information.

"I'm going to ask my last question now," Sarah said.

He nodded. She had turned toward him, he noted with satisfaction. She'd relaxed her posture and had shifted on the sofa so that she was facing him.

"What really happens to the children who are wished away to you?"

"In all but your brother's case, the child remains in the Underground and is adopted into a family."

"But don't you... I mean, I thought you turned them into goblins," Sarah said, looking confused.

"Turn them into goblins?" His eyebrows shot up. "Why ever would I do such a thing? Goblins procreate in the usual fashion. Surely, you know how babies are made?" He watched with a faint smirk as she glanced away from him. He expected her to be blushing, but when she looked back at him, her brow was furrowed slightly.

"I know I've used up my questions, but you said "those who choose to go through the Labyrinth." Are there people who don't even try?" She sounded puzzled.

Jareth sighed. He would prefer not to pursue this subject. It was the most abhorrent part of his duties. But perhaps it was best that Sarah learn the truth now. He just hoped she had the stomach for it.

"More than you would probably imagine choose not to run the Labyrinth," he said. "The majority of the children I take are wished away either because the family can no longer provide for them or because the child was unwanted from the beginning." He frowned. "Many of the children I take are... injured."

For a moment, Sarah didn't understand what Jareth meant and then it dawned on her.

"Abused, you mean?" she asked.

Jareth nodded and contempt flashed across his face.

"I have been called to take children who were malnourished, children with broken bones or other wounds. Many must be healed immediately upon being taken. A few have been near death."

Sarah felt sick. "That never occurred to me," she said slowly. "I just thought that..."

Jareth lifted an eyebrow and gave a cold smile.

"Did you think that it was all spoiled little girls wishing away their healthy baby brothers in a fit of petulance?"

Sarah flinched, but she guessed she deserved that. She could only imagine the horrors that he had seen.

"I have answered your question, and more." He shook his head slightly. "While you have asked all of your questions, I have not."

"All right." Sarah nodded. "What do you want to know?"

Jareth thought for a moment. He wanted to lighten the mood a bit.

"You do not wish to return to the Underground. What is there about this world that you prefer?"

"There are a lot of things," Sarah said, making a vague hand gesture.

"List them," Jareth demanded as he leaned forward slightly.

Sarah laughed softly. "I can't tell you all of them, there are too many."

"Then tell me the most important ones," Jareth insisted.

Sarah narrowed her eyes in concentration. "We have electricity and technology."

"We have magic," Jareth countered.

She arched an eyebrow. "We have libraries."

He shrugged. "I have a library."

"I have a career," she said quickly.

"You could be a queen," he purred.

Sarah's eyes widened slightly at his tone and she faltered in her recitation for just a moment but then continued with a smug smile.

"We have indoor plumbing."

"We have unicorns and dragons." His eyes flashed with triumph.

For a second, Sarah was confused. "What do unicorns and dragons have to do with plumbing?"

"Nothing," he said with a grin, "but if you had your choice between seeing a toilet or a unicorn, which would you choose?"

"It depends on how badly I need to see the toilet," she said wryly.

Even Jareth laughed at that.

Sarah met his eyes. "It's not that I have anything against the Underground, it's actually an amazing place." She smiled fondly for a moment, then sobered. "It's just that this is my world."

"This world is familiar to you," Jareth said thoughtfully.

"Yes, it is," she said. "Just like the Underground is familiar to you."

"But the Underground is familiar to you, as well," he said.

"I was there less than 13 hours," she answered. "I wouldn't call that being familiar."

Jareth shook his head. "You already know many of its locations and inhabitants through your artwork."

"That's not the same thing."

He simply shrugged and casually stretched one arm along the back of the sofa.

Sarah shifted uneasily.

Jareth kept his arm in place and in a moment, when he made no further movements, he saw her relax. He smiled to himself. She didn't seem to realize that her complete awareness of him continually gave her away.

"Your current home is not the same as the one in which I encountered you last," he remarked mildly.

"No, I still lived in my dad's house then," she said. "In Connecticut."

She smiled at his blank look. "Connecticut is a state. We're in New York now." He gave a slight shake of his head and she continued. "Like a province," she explained.

He nodded. "So, you left your father's house and moved to a unfamiliar home in an unfamiliar province."

"It's not the same," she repeated, exasperation filtering into her tone. "You're talking about a different world."

Jareth wondered if the dreamer that she used to be was still there inside her. It was time to find out. He spoke softly and she unconsciously leaned closer.

"A different world, yes. A world in which magic exists, Sarah. A world in which unicorns and dragons are real and a young girl can grow up to become a queen as the result of simply making a wish."

Jareth searched her eyes and was pleased to see a wistful longing among the confused emotions there. So, the dreamer was still alive and well. It was time to gather more information, and to play the next card.

"I have one question left to ask," he began.

"Two," she interrupted.

"One question left to ask tonight," he continued with a smirk.

Sarah smiled and gave a shrug. "It was worth a try."

He grinned.

"If I were to grant any single wish that you made, what would you wish?" he asked.

Sarah's smile faded and she looked away from him. "You can't grant my wish." Her voice was suddenly strained.

Jareth was perplexed by her rapid change in demeanor.

"You do not know that for certain." He arched an eyebrow. "When my magic has returned, perhaps I can grant your wish."

She drew in a shuddering breath and then met his gaze.

"I wish that my family were still alive," she said softly.

His initial reaction was surprise at learning that her family was dead. But when he saw the hope that was suddenly shining in her eyes, surprise quickly gave way to an unexpectedly sharp stab of regret at his careless words.

"Forgive me," he said quietly. "You are correct. It is not within my power to grant such wishes."

He watched as the hope dwindled away and she nodded her understanding. She looked away from him, gazing into the fire. There was a long pause and then she began speaking in a wooden voice.

"It was an accident," she said. "The furnace didn't work properly and it caused a build up of a poisonous gas in the house. They were asleep and they just didn't..." She bit her lip and then continued. "Gary says that I should be grateful that they didn't suffer."

"All of them died?" Jareth asked quietly. "Even the boy?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Four years ago tomorrow." Tears flooded her eyes and she abruptly stood. "Excuse me, please."

Without waiting for his reply, she went into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Jareth cursed himself for a fool. He'd chosen to press his advantage and had only succeeded in upsetting her. He rubbed his eyes wearily. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to lose your entire family. Death was almost unimaginable to him. The fae were virtually immortal. Severe injury or iron could cause death but, outside of war, it was a rarity.

Jareth knew that he could grant her wish, in a manner of speaking. But Sarah had saved his life and she deserved better than to be insulted by the offer of an illusion. She would refuse it, in any case. Sarah had always preferred reality to her dreams, even when that reality was harsh.

He had just decided that he should knock on her bedroom door when it opened and Sarah came back into the living area. Her eyes were reddened and she seemed subdued, but gave no other outward sign that she was distressed.

Jareth rose as she entered the room. "I would like to express my condolences on the loss of your family. Your brother was a good-natured child and I remember him fondly."

"You remember Toby?" She seemed astonished.

"Of course." Jareth hesitated. "There are not so many wished away to me now. There are very few left in your world who believe in goblins, or their king."

Sarah looked at him silently for a long moment and he was puzzled when he saw her eyes fill with tears again. She blinked them back quickly.

"If you don't mind, I think I'll shower and go to bed," she said. "Feel free to listen to the stereo or read if you want." She gestured toward the books on the shelves by the stereo.

Jareth's eyes followed her movements. He needed to change the subject quickly. These conversations of death and loss were painful to her.

"Perhaps I shall read. Are there any of these books that you recommend?" he asked.

Sarah walked over and looked at the tiny collection of books. She tilted her head and then plucked one from the shelves and held it out to him.

"This is one of my favorites," she said. "It's about a mystery that's never been solved. The book is fiction, but the mystery is real and the king involved was real."

He arched an eyebrow and took the book from her, examining the cover. "The Daughter of Time," he read aloud.

"It's about a police inspector who's recuperating in the hospital. He's bored and to pass the time, he begins to research the mystery behind the Princes in the Tower and whether Richard III killed them or not." She paused and looked at Jareth thoughtfully. "You might have some insight into Richard since you're a king, too."

Jareth snorted. "There is no mystery, I have read Shakespeare's play." He turned the book over in his hands. "Other than the title of king, I doubt I have anything in common with Richard III."

"You've read Shakespeare?" Her eyebrows shot up.

"I am not completely illiterate," Jareth said with a faint smile. "Richard III was an evil tyrant who had his nephews murdered in order to usurp the throne."

Sarah smiled. "You seem terribly certain of yourself. Read the book and when you’re finished, we’ll talk about it again."

Jareth opened the book and glanced inside at the proverb there. 'Truth is the daughter of time.' He shrugged. "I have already told you that I know the facts of the story, but if you recommend the book, I shall read a few pages."

~*~*~*~*~

Sarah sighed as she leaned back and allowed the hot water to rinse the last of the shampoo from her hair, and she finally let her thoughts wander.

If she'd thought it was difficult to figure Jareth out before, she certainly didn't know what to think after his behavior tonight. She'd been braced for scornful comments after revealing that she'd had a crush on him and yet he hadn't teased her at all. Was this the same man who had been so hostile when he'd first arrived?

'Well, how would you have acted toward him if you'd awakened to find yourself in the Underground?' she thought. She shrugged slightly. She hadn't been kidding when she said she probably would have thrown a screaming fit. All in all, she guessed that Jareth had behaved better than she would have done in his position.

He'd surprised her again with his question about her wish. On some level, she had known that he couldn't grant it, but there had been a moment when she'd looked over at him and he had seemed so confident, and she had begun to hope... Her eyes filled with tears and she stopped that thought. There was no point in dwelling on it.

She gave herself a hard mental shake. She had to stop being so emotional. She knew that the past couple of days had been stressful, but they had worn on her more than she'd realized. She had even gotten tears in her eyes when Jareth had talked about there being so few believers in this world. Why did the thought of Jareth being forgotten cause her to feel such sadness?