Nothing Is What It Seems

-My first fanfiction and hopefully not the last. I thought for quite some time about an original premise, and I hope you enjoy my story. Just as a reminder, I own only a handful of original characters and I don't even make money off them. So a big thanks to the Creature Workshop and Fox for letting me play with their toys.-


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Three years already. Sarah leaned her head back against her pillows and heaved a sigh, dismissing her English textbook as a lost cause and allowing it to slip from her fingers to the floor beside the bed. Three years tomorrow since she had left the Underground.

The images of her friends played inside her eyelids and she fought the urge to declare the anniversary early, to rummage under her bed for the book of playthings she had sorted through once a year since that night. It had been two and a half years since last she had seen Hoggle, or any of her companions from the Labyrinth. They had suddeny stopped answering her summons only a few months after she had defeated Jareth. The thought of his name made her tremble, though she subdued the feeling quickly. She wasn't a little girl anymore, to be afraid of the Goblin King. She had, in fact, almost ceased to believe what had happened to her was anything more than a dream, and there was no sense in fearing a dream spectre. She wasn't even sure the emotion was entirly fear, occasionally she considered her time in the Labyrinth to be her first erotic dream, tame though it had been. She had experianced enough of her world now to know that often fear and attraction were the same emotion. Nights spent crouched in closets during hide and seek could evoke the same reactions as the attentions of a boy.

She turned her head with a heavy sigh and watched the clock tick. Ten till twelve. She had been studying harder than she thought and decided to reward herself. Sarah swung her legs from the bed and knelt beside it, reaching beneath and withdrawing one of the many cardboard boxes that shared the space down there. Steadying herself with a breath, she opened the top and pulled out the first item.

The music box. It had been a gift from her mother before she abandoned her family for the stage, and the exquisite miniature costume had delighted the young Sarah. When she had awoken the morning after her experiance in the Labyrinth she had rushed to it, certain that the man inside it's gilt pavilion would be Jareth, but he had been faceless and indistinct. Sarah had never been able to identify the tune it played. The first time she had heard the words, they had been pouring from the lips of her Fae king.

There's such a sad glow,
deep in your eyes...

She shook her head clear of the echoes and set the little box aside before pulling out Lancelot, the only surving member of the teddy bear Round Table she had assembled those years ago. The others had all been sold in a garage sale, but she had found Lancelot in Toby's closet the next day, as though he were unwilling to leave her. She pressed the soft furry body to her chest and smiled ruefully at it. "A little different now, huh Lancelot?" she pulled the bear away from her chest with a self-concious laugh at the way she had been smothering him between her breasts and set him aside with a fond smile.

The bookend that resembled Hoggle, the Firey and Sir Didymous plushes, that ridiculous vest she had worn, all were considered for a moment, then set aside. And then came the Escher. The poster had been carefully rolled and it resited her attempts to open it at first, but then there it was. The stairway room. And now she couldn't stop Jareth's voice from slipping into her thoughts. "Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave." He had been lying of course. It was the fae way of things, wasn't it? They gambled with people, played with the lives of mortals. But it had been a tempting offer, almost enough to stall her those last moments, almost enough to make her give up everything. She huffed softly to herself and set the poster aside.

Only the book remained. Lifting the red bound volume onto her lap, she began replacing the other things, then shoved the box back beneath the bed. She stood and wiped the book across her thigh, dusting the covers before shining the gold leaf with the hem of her T-shirt. She sat on the edge of the bed and glanced at the clock. Only a minute to go before she could start reading, and this was one tradition she wouldn't break. She set the book down and rubbed her bare arms at a sudden chill, looking around her room.

And then the world fell down.

There was a slight whooshing sound and Sarah turned to the door as the room flooded with a familiar scent. Magic. She began to tremble as her eyes rose over the figure standing before her closed door. Sarah's vision rose from soft black leather boots tooled in silver to the grey silk leggings adhered to the muscle beneath them. She pushed her eyes to the side then, following the masculine curve of the hips to the hem of a white shirt that peeked beneath the bottom of a black leather jacket whose design mimicked the boots, silver tracing upwards to diappear behind a pair of crossed arms terminating in black gloved hands, and then she could avoid the face no longer. Framed by the swooping collar of the coat, there he was. Jareth.

"What-" He was staring at her. His eyes were still the same cold mismatch, but they lacked the twinkle of amusement she was accustomed to. She found her voice again. "What do you want?"

The Goblin King did not smile. "Sarah." The musical lilt of his accent remained, but his tone was serious. "We have very little time. You must listen to me. None of your interupptions, girl." He forstalled her protest with a curt gesture of his hand and continued speaking as she rose to face him. " Very shortly the others will arrive. I wasn't able to negotiate much time with you. You are about to be called back to the Underground, Sarah, to stand trial for a misdeed you know nothing of. I must advise you not to speak under any circumstance. Do not answer any questions, do not volunteer any information, and above all, do not resist those that come for you. There is no mercy in them."

"Who are you to speak of mercy?" The old fire had already risen in her blood at his commands and she was more than ready to protest this injustice.

At this the corner of his mouth raised briefly. "You have no basis for comparison. Only hold your silence until you and I might speak again. For your own safety Sarah. You are in peril you cannot fathom."

And the room drew itself up again as two other appeared. The were undoubtedly Fae, though Sarah was suprised to see that they bore little resemblance to Jareth but for the glamour about them, and the air of easy power. One was dark, his skinned seeming tanned to a fine brown sheen and his face framed with black curls hanging unruly around his shoulders. His irises were entirly black, giving him a smudged charcoal air, while the other was slightly... green. His skin was slightly tinged in grass green, his eyes were bright vivid Crayola green, and the tightly curled hair that clung to his head was the color of old oak leaves. But both men were clothed in the same uniform of square collared black leather jackets cut for fencing, and the same black leather trousers, obviously padded for the sport. Sarah had had two years of lessons in the sport and a nearly identical outfit hung in her closet, minus the high black leather boots, as plain as the rest of the ensemble, and the spring green and silver badges pinned to their chests above their hearts.

"This is the girl?" The green man had spoken to Jareth, who nodded curtly, refusing to look at the men in his regal way. The dark man turned to her.

"Sarah Marie Williams, charges have been brought against you by the High Sidhe Court. You are to come with us and be placed under the Court's custody until such a time as you should be called unpon to testify." Having said his peace, the darm man now seemed to be waiting for her to speak. She looked questioningly at Jareth, who turned away from her gaze with a barely perceptable grimace.

"Well?" Now the green man was speaking. While the dark man's accent had mimicked Jareth's amostly perfectly, but for being lighter, the green man spoke with a very Irish lilt. "Have you nothing to say for yourself, girl?" He scruntinized her as she stood, her posture defiant though she withstood the urge to speak. "You have two minutes to select any belongings which might be necessary for your defence. Any items you choose to bring will be searched by Court authorities."

Sarah could not help but notice the capital letters with which both men spoke of the Court, and steppedf over to her closet quickly, pulling an empty duffel bag from the floor and opening it. Shge first pulled from the hangers her fencing suit. It seemed only appropriate to take, considering her captors wore the same attire. She then added two pairs of blue jeans and several T-shirts, as well as a pair of tennis shoes. She remembered being stuck in her moccasins the last time she had been Underground, and those she wore now weren't much different. Then at the last moment, she added one of her few skirts, a demure black kneelength, and a white blouse, along with a pair of slim black flats. Trial was a formal occasion after all.

She crossed quickly to her dresser and turned her back on the three men who were scruntinizing her to stuff underwear and bras into the bag. As she grabbed her sweater from the bedpost, she impulsively grabbed the little red book sitting on the bed and stuffed it into her back pocket before turning to the men. Though she did not speak, they must have understood her meaning, for the two stepped forward. She had a moment to marvel at her own clarity, the smoothness of her reactions, before their black gloved hands gripped her on either side, just above the elbow, and everything disappeared.

The last vision she had of her room was Jareth, still standing before the door, staring at her with clouded eyes.