Summary: He should have been more specific. He should have warned her what choosing her dreams really meant. Sarah accepted the Goblin King's crystal, but had she known the truth of the dreams he offered perhaps she would not have been so generous. Trapped in an endless world of dreams and nightmares, there is only one place she can find solace. J/S

Warnings: Quite dark; angst, a little horror. So the genre should be: Angst/Horror/Romance

Disclaimer: Lamentably, I do not own the Labyrinth, Jareth or Sarah; they belong to Jim Henson.

Hey everyone! This is my first Labyrinth fanfiction, so constructive criticism is very welcome! I really love this fandom and hope I've done it justice, I've had this idea in my head for a while but finally the horrible months of endless exams and revision are over so I can actually focus and get it down on paper! Take that, writer's block ;) the real inspiration for it comes directly from CS Lewis' The Voyage of the Dawn Treader novel; the fifth Narnia book. Namely, the chapter where the crew of the Dawn Treader encounter the Island of Dreams... It's really an alternate what-if idea, I haven't seen it done before but there are a lot of fanfics out there so I'm sorry if anyone feels I've stolen their idea, not intentional. Also, I love reviews, they're quickly rising to the same level of addiction as caffeine and sugar for me :)

I know it may be a little confusing or random at times but I was trying to capture that nature of dreams where things change in an instant and people who look like people are actually other people...hopefully its not just me who dreams like that. Without further ado and rambling, enjoy!

Ensnared in Dreams

Whoever said all dreams were good?

She opened her mouth, a scream joining the others; a chorus of terror weaving higher in the darkness. No different from the others; she was compressed, pushed down, insignificant. One of many, indistinguishable from the rest. Unimportant.

The empty words echoed in her head as she fought for a way out somewhere, anywhere, as she had a thousand times before. She found the willpower to pinch herself -

Winged monsters were chasing her now through a dense forest devoid of glitter or friendly faces. She ran deeper and deeper, speed increasing as the shadows closed about her but never enough to shake off or deter her steady pursuers. She wouldn't let herself look back; experience had taught her that was how you lost. The heavy beat of wings resounded closer and closer through the trees until she could feel their hot, sticky breath coating the back of her neck; a second before they swooped. But as the nightmares finally caught up with her, the girl relaxed. A familiar gloom was slowly creeping into the sides of her vision, somehow separate from the one all around her. She sighed in relief; the black veil fell and she fell with it into another dream.

She looked around, smiling widely as she saw her friends waving to her. Making her way across the wooden floor of the school gymnasium, she never took her eyes off the girls from her old tennis class chatting together. Finally reaching them she enjoyed a few minutes of light, normal conversation before the party went into full swing and she found herself backing shyly away from her friends, retreating to the wall. She'd never liked these awkward school discos, always feeling out of place. She looked carefully, but everyone on the dance floor appeared to be human. She relished this novelty. But as she was just beginning to relax, the dream suddenly changed scene to the main street of her town. Used to this by now she began to walk, hoping to get some peace before the veil unwound again.

The park seemed to be taking twice as long to reach as usual, and her panic only rose further as the dark corners of the street twisted, escaping their confines and beckoning to her.

...Sarah...

No! She screamed, but the words didn't come out. This was a normal dream! It was meant to be a normal boring dream!

Oh, but Sarah... the voices whispered silkily, you know in the Underground nothing is as it seems...

Then it was dark, but not the blackness of the veil. Sarah moaned to herself, tears rising as she turned in a full circle searching for her foes in vain. She hated this dream most of all; the dream where she couldn't see the ones after her. The nightmare had haunted her as a child until she had fought it away – but now, now all her control had been turned upside down and swept off by the crystal's magic, leaving her helpless to it.

The voices and eyes goaded; taunted her, whispering cruel promises and sweet nothings, entreating her to come out and play.

No thank you.

We don't like to take no for an answer, Sarah dear. Why haven't you learnt that yet?

She twisted through a dozen more dreams, each time both welcoming and dreading the abyss of the veil. Like the thousands before some were pleasant, some were dull, some were the same and most picked up on the terror and fear that were her constant companions these days.

He should have been more specific.

Phantom figures of Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus were replaced with great dog-like black shapes that reminded her of the tale of the 'haggis' her uncle had laughingly told her once,. Creatures with one set of legs longer than the other that ran around the steep hillsides of Scotland and traditionally hunted once a year, for Burns Night. Only those stories described smaller creatures, as opposed to these sinister beings with their long, stretched-out, mismatched legs towered over her.

He should have warned her what choosing her dreams really meant.

Her dreams had always been vivid, but now being her only reality they were even more so. She fought back at the strange haggis creatures and felt momentarily triumphant as they backed off. If her dreams showed her winning, even rarely, surely that meant she still had hope?

And if she still had hope, then she could damn well find a way out of here – aloophole in the crystallised contract that bound her. She was Sarah Williams for God's sake; she had run and solved the Labyrinth after all. Even if she had been struck down at the last moment -

Following and moulding to her train of thought, she steeled herself as the dream instantly transported her to the shattered remains of the Escher room. She was herself and not herself at the same time, looking on as a bystander as the Goblin King asked her, begged her to stay.

...and I will be your slave.

Her self – the innocent brave girl she had been – hesitated even as her lips formed the words that would mark his downfall. But the girl did hesitate; her eyes searched his for sincerity and found what they both dreamed of there – in the next second instead of his downfall, her words marked her own.

Yes, Goblin King. My dreams, and -

The world fell down once more then as the tips of her fingers rested on the crystal and a look ofbitter sweet triumph crossed his face. He ripped the crystal from under her fingers, threw it high in the air and intoned coolly; 'So be it. Your dreams, Sarah.' Yet he did not smirk as he would usually have done.

She could only watch in horror as the crystal dropped through the air, alighting on her fingers and promptly cascading her down into chaos. No time even for a scream; no time to think what have I done?

Stripped from reality, lost in uncertainty, trapped in pure subconscious, no exits no helping hands no bridges no openings in walls nothing nothing nothing...

That dream died, and a hundred more passed by.

'No – no not them - not Toby!- please no-'

Still, lifeless bodies; prone husks that had once been a family lay before her on the floor, the faulty dagger resting almost innocently on the living room table. Their life-force dripped steadily from it onto the formerly pristine white carpet Karen had taken such joy in. Stumbling away she lifted shaking red-glistening hands to cradle her face, the crimson mingling with tears and together staining her skin. Then the others were there, taking charge, taking her. Blind eyes were turned to her protests, her futile struggles and the real murderer was nowhere to be seen. Justice did not exist here.

The prison came soon after with no trial, and she made one more desperate plea as the bars were locked on her.

'I'm sorry, god I'm so sorry -'

'Too late for that,' the stern policeman reprimanded her. 'You'll be locked up here alone for the rest of your life – never escaping now!'

Then there was a sea of faces laughing and mocking her in her misery calling her a silly child just a silly little girl and although she longed to fight back and defy them, she knew this was not the worst they could do to her. No, defiance and fight could not help her against these insubstantial, wraithlike beings that vanished and changed form in the blink of an eye.

'Hoggle! Ludo! Sir Didymus! I need you!'

The faces soon faded as if they had better things to do, leaving her alone with her desperation and fear.

'….Hoggle!…LUDO!….Sir..Didymus! Please…'

As Sarah's cries grew gradually weaker, only the stubbornness that had allowed her to reach the castle kept her going.

'…I need you…all of you…'

Soon they were no more than a pitiful whisper, and still the dream would not end.

'…Hog-Hoggle…please, I need…where are you? …Jareth…'

Relief flows through her as the veil lifts and her vision clears. She even smiles when she sees her hands are white once more, until she realises one is being held in a soft grey kid glove while the other rests on a deep blue, glittery shoulder.

'You're not usually so pleased to see me, precious.' His obvious smirk causes her to scowl and toss her now elaborately done up head back to glare at him.

'Don't flatter yourself Goblin King, I'm not. You just interrupted at a good time, that's all.'

He continues to grin as he manoeuvres them out and away from a thick crowd. 'So cruel, even now. Still, I believe it is an improvement.'

Too tired to growl something back at him – which is ridiculous seeing as she's been doing nothing but dreaming for what feels like the last thousand years – she settles for relaxing into his arms as he sweeps her swiftly and effortlessly through the fairytale ballroom, unconsciously following the steps of the dance she knows by heart.

'We have your precious book,' the boy mocked, his young face twisting cruelly. 'Want it back?'

'Give it to me!' she cried furiously, jumping higher but still he held it out of reach.

'I think she wants it,' he added to the other boys around him, who laughed as he taunted her till the tears came. 'If you really want it, try harder little girl!'

'Stop it! It's not fair!'

'You say that so often,' one of the boys jeered at her, his childish voice taking on one she knew well. 'I wonder what your basis-'

Gritting her teeth, Sarah jumped again and finally succeeding in knocking the red leather book from the older boy's hand. At once it was even farther from her reach and she found herself running desperately through a maze – a labyrinth – searching every corner, every twist and turn for it. Only now it was a baby - a screaming baby she loved - and it was in trouble; she had to reach it before he did.

As in most dreams she couldn't conjure up an exact picture of who he was, only he could not reach the baby before she did.

But he did, and as she skidded to a halt his cry of triumph rang out clearly across the stones eclipsing her own tears of despair. Numbly she sank to her knees in the centre of the Labyrinth allowing the failure to overcome her. She should have said her right words, she should have followed the book and she should not have allowed the heartfelt plea, now so obviously false to sway her. She would be safely at home with Toby and her parents, living a normal life if only she had spoken the words on the tip of her tongue. You have no power over me. She had been about to demand Toby's return in exchange for her dreams of him but of course, he hadn't given her the time.

She was an idiot for thinking it would all work out like a fairytale. Hadn't she been warned that things were never as they seemed in the Labyrinth? Dreams were not the same as wishes and heartfelt words spoken at the end of a long battle were not heartfelt at all, but merely another trick to lure a foolish opponent into losing.

Sarah treasured these rare few moments when she had time to think, even if they were not particularly cheerful thoughts. Other times she was too distracted and absorbed by the dream to remember her family and friends. In those times when she could bear to daydream, thoughts of escape were foremost in her mind either alone or with the help of her wonderful, dear friends Hoggle, Sir Didymus and Ludo. During one dance many dreams ago she had asked Jareth not to punish them for helping her, but she had no way of knowing whether he'd granted her wish or not. He hadn't agreed but he hadn't refused either and before she could demand a reply the dream had ended.

She hated the absolute power he held over their interactions - no, confrontations.She hated the smugness he must feel over his triumph of her, hated how often he always appeared in the ballroom scene and hated how he never entered any of her other less pleasant dreams. She wondered why he no longer gloated so openly about his victory as he had during the first few weeks, back when time had meant something to her.

He woke up stretched out on his bed, half-imagining the warmth of her arms still resting on his as he led her around her former fantasy. Then he was no longer imagining but missing, and that would not do. The vivid memories of the ballroom still surrounded him as he rose from the bed, magically clothing himself in his usual attire of poet shirt, waistcoat and leggings - all midnight black, as was the usual these days - as he stalked over to the wide window. There, he rested his aching head against the cool stone and gazed pensively on his kingdom, all thoughts relentlessly coming back to her.

He should not feel guilty for this; for one more mortal lost in dreams. He should not despise himself for doing this to her, when he had done it to so many others and felt no regret. It should not affect him – the mortals asked for their dreams and so be it, their dreams they were given! It was his job and an essential part of the Game he played. Outside, the sun cast its first pale rays on the yellowing stones below, and his lips curled into a thin, mirthless smile. The Labyrinth rarely gives anyone back – once called, it will claim you forever.

It had been this way for endless centuries and millennia, for countless Goblin Kings before him. Some mortals realised the truth of what he was offering and had the good sense to refuse both the babe and the dreams; most succumbed to their selfishness; others fell along the way. A very rare few beat the Labyrinth. He'd only heard of two or three, and under his seven hundred year reign Sarah had been the first.

It was all part of the Game; never anything personal. Only, she had made it so.

Sarah.

One solitary thought, and the icy black armour he'd maintained easily over the years was shattered. In the split second before she had touched the damn crystal the Game forced him to offer, she had met his eyes and for that one moment seemed to be choosing him. Perhaps she thought she was, he thought bitterly. Or perhaps you're just losing your head over her too. But then the words had been spoken and he was alone again, the taste of his hollow victory all around; it was too late to wonder any more.

I wish I could save you, my Sarah, he thought, gripping the cold stone of the window so hard his gloved hands cried out in protest. But in this, I am bound as tightly as you.

The Labyrinth hummed gently to its ruler, as it began to wake up with the day. He glared at it in return as it continued apparently unaffected by his pain.

This way you may still see her, it reminded him mildly.

Jareth laughed bitterly at his beloved Labyrinth. 'What consolation is that?'

Better than no consolation at all.

Jareth sighed. For once, the being that understood him better than any others couldn't offer him any comfort. 'A King and his kingdom require more than simple glances of their Queen,' he replied quietly.

Again the Labyrinth hummed ambiguously in reply. It made no further comment as he paced restlessly back and forth, high-heeled boots clicking on the stone floor before, making a swift decision, he leapt gracefully from the stone window in an attempt to lose himself and his pain in flight. The Labyrinth waited a little longer before loosing a rare whisper to be carried alongside the wind, startling and aiding the King's flight as it swept by.

You may forgive me one day, Goblin King.

'You took Toby.'

He sighs and prepares to argue with her accusing eyes once again. 'I have told you this before Sarah; he is safely back in your world.'

'How can I believe that, Goblin King?'

'Haven't we been dancing long enough yet for you to call me by name?' Half-hidden bitterness accompanies his words, but he almost flinches at the intentional spite in her reply.

'Fine, Jareth. How can I believe that my brother is not a goblin?' Tears threaten, but she blinks them away immediately.

'I returned him to your world after you made your choice. Even if you did surrender you reached the centre of the Labyrinth, precious thing. You won your brother's freedom if not your own.'

She glowers up at him as he twirls her again. Much as her stubbornness annoyed him when they first met, he now rejoices every time he sees the fighting spirit surface in her eyes – she has not lost just yet.

The courtiers around them are barely noticed any more - they do not try to interfere with the dance, nor laugh and mock the girl, instead contenting themselves with dances and gaiety and caresses. Even their loud raucous laughter is easily ignored by the couple at the heart of the ball. Crystal walls still surround them on all sides, while glittering white ribbons trailing from overhanging chandeliers brush their shoulders occasionally, but all attention is focused solely on each other and the soft music guiding their path.

...falling...falling in love...

'I still hate you, for this.'

'If that's true then why are you still here?'

Why indeed? She thinks over his question for a few moments, anger visibly fading until she raises her green eyes to his own honestly curious mismatched ones, and now they contain only sadness.

'Because this dream is the only one that's predictable. Safe, almost. I don't know what will happen in the others; who will appear, where I will be, whether I will die again or not. Here, we just dance and keep on dancing in each others' arms, until you leave or the dream ends.' Her voice is tinged with regret, although he isn't sure if it is because he must leave and the dream must end, or because she is trapped in this nightmare. He hopes desperately for the former. 'If I push away, if I run from here now, it will end and I'll be back out there.'

He pulls her closer and she doesn't resist, resting her head against his chest. What harm is it to indulge in this comfort now? She is trapped, lost, and he is her only anchor; the one aspect of this miserable excuse for a life she lives that she can be sure of.

Later, she will scream at him for putting her in this mess, for making her surrender when she had already won, for not being more specific but for now, she is close to happiness.