*I do not own rights to Labyrinth or any of the characters*

Choosing the Path Between the Stars, Chapter One:

Someone once, many years before, had expressed the common human sentiment to him—and now he was forced to echo the bereavement himself: "It's not fair," he murmured. Jareth sat gazing out of the round window that sat snugly in the wall of his throne room. From the windowsill, cut so thick from the stone that had birthed Jareth's castle, he could easily sit and survey the goblin city sprawled out before him.

Little goblins shuffled about clumsily in the tiny square beneath the palace. The goblin king watched as an especially rotund goblin tripped and fell with a splash into the murky waters of the fountain that stood in the center of the square. Even this comical misfortune was not enough to bring the smallest of smirks to Jareth's face.

"It's not fair," he echoed, lifting his eyes away from the window and down to his hands, where he clutched a familiar piece of literature that almost never left his sight.

He opened the red leather-bound book to the first page, where he read the same tired, scrawling script that Sarah's mother had penned across the title page-the same line he read every day:

"To my Sarah, may you always keep make-believe alive in your heart."

Jareth thumbed through the pocket-sized volume, sighing wearily. He could still remember Sarah reading from the small book in the park the evening that they first met face to face. He could still remember her rippling white dress, how she read the lines from the novel with such passion, and a longing to truly believe their meaning. He had thought at the time of course, that it was nothing but a silly human trinket, devoid of meaning. But it had meant so much to her, and on one particular night, long after she had solved the Labyrinth, he had slipped through her open window and snatched the book up into his talons.

Jareth could only visit Sarah's home in the world above in the form of an owl. Magic prevented him from taking his true form unless he was summoned. That was how he was able to meet Sarah that first night in her parent's bedroom, when she was merely a child and had carelessly wished away her baby brother. Of course, he had only done it because she had asked. The other tricks and cruel twists and turns, all the smoke and mirrors he had used to cloud her mind had just been his unnatural way of trying to impress the young girl. But of course, a teenage human girl could hardly endure his ceaseless onslaught of illusion and not take it personally.

He blamed only himself, at the end of it all. He had scared her, threatened her, and bribed her. And she had done what no other girl before her had done. She had said no.

It was the utter and flat out rejection that drove him mad, that kept him tossing and turning in his silk sheets at night. He paced the throne room now, remembering how she had stood up to him—how brave and spirited she had been—how absolutely dazzling she was. Every other teenage girl had taken his offer, blinded by materialism and enchanted by his glittering world. But when he realized that he held no true affection for them in his hardened heart, they would vanish and return to their world, with no memory of his Labyrinth.

There had been many, many girls that had roamed the Labyrinth before Sarah. Each one of them had whispered in the night some desperate wish. They wished all kinds of things, better friends, a slimmer figure, the devotion of their parents, the love of another. And each time they wished, Jareth would appear. He would offer them their deepest desires, if they could solve the Labyrinth and find him at its center. Few of them had the courage and patience to untangle the chaos of the massive stone maze, but for the scant minority that could, Jareth would offer them a throne. To join him in ruling the underground world was to most of them, a far greater bargain than what they had originally wished for. And when he offered them a crystal, spherical and glittering, they would take it in their eager hands, only to realize that if they were not truly the girl meant for him, it would dissolve into the air and they would be thrust back into their beds. They would awaken the next morning with no memory of his rippling cloak and shining crystals.

So many girls had passed through the castle, he had nearly lost count. But Sarah had been the last one. Since her departure, he had stopped listening to the incessant wishes of mortals. He no longer lurked in their dreams, he no longer responded when a lovely youth desperately prayed for something only he could make real. Ever since Sarah, he had lost all interest in the game. If one could call it a game.

A sudden crash startled Jareth from his thoughts. He looked up at the doorway, where a goblin had run directly into a coat of arms rushing to bring him a message. The tiny thing now hopped up and down on one foot, gripping an injured foot and mumbling profanities. The goblin stopped when he met the king's gaze.

"Oh so sorry, majesty," the goblin squawked, "I came as fast as I could, sir," he stammered and hobbled over to Jareth, who's gloved hand was already outstretched and waiting for the letter the goblin held.

He snatched the paper from the tiny, trembling goblin. Jareth unfolded the paper, and read the graceless uneven goblin writing quickly. His eyes hardened and he crumpled the note, tossing it at the servant's feet. The goblin shrieked and hopped backward, thinking it was some magic trick his ruler was playing on him. When he understood that Jareth had merely thrown trash at him, he picked it up off the floor and scurried away, slamming the heavy wooden doors behind him.

Jareth's pace grew heavier on the stone floor, and the sharp echo of his step hit the walls with a resounding crack. How dare that insolent cretin show his face in the goblin city! Fury boiled in his veins as he waited for his entrance. Sure enough there was a light tap on the thick wooden doors and the goblin came teetering in, jewels clinking at his belt. He took off his hat and bowed before the king.

"Good to see you, Hogwash," Jareth snickered.

"It's Hoggle," the goblin said, eyes boring into Jareth's. He had shed his cowardly ways since Sarah left, becoming more brazen than he ever thought he could be. Now instead of a shriveling, mindless servant, Hoggle had become his own man, with his own mind.

"What do you want?" Jareth spat, "I could have you beheaded just for showing your face here,"

Hoggle knew well enough that if the goblin king had wanted him dead he would've killed him many years ago. The fact that he was still alive meant something.

"I came cause of Sarah," Hoggle said quietly.

Jareth's head snapped back toward the goblin. He lurched forward with intensity and kneeled down before the tiny man. "What did you just say?" he demanded.

"I says I came here cause Sarah," Hoggle stated firmly, "I just came back from the above world, and something's wrong."

"Is she hurt?" Jareth said, voice wavering, heart wounded just at the thought.

"No sir, she ain't hurt," Hoggle said, shaking his head, "It's her dad," the goblin continued, "He's sick. Deathly sick."

Jareth stood up, considering this. Why should it matter to him whether or not an old mortal man live or die? What good would it do him to have this information?

"Why did you tell me this?" Jareth asked.

"Well, majesty," Hoggle began, "You are the fulfiller of wishes, aren't you?"

Jareth rolled his eyes, "Trust me Hogbrain, if Sarah had wished for her father's health I would've restored it in seconds. She hasn't whispered a wish to me since that night long ago."

Hoggle shuffled nervously, "Of course she hasn't sir, because she's afraid you'll bring her right back to the Labyrinth."

Jareth mulled this over in his mind. He paced. He sat down on his throne, throwing one leg over an arm of the chair. He looked over at Hoggle.

"For god's sake, Hogwart, you are dismissed!" he shouted.

Hoggle hobbled out of the room swiftly and slammed the doors behind him. Jareth was alone again and without any idea how to proceed. Hoggle was right, he could easily restore Sarah's father's health. But to meet with the girl he had to be summoned, otherwise he would appear to her only as a flapping owl. Jareth tossed ideas around in his head as he paced the throne room. The sun began to set over the goblin city and the shadows of the underground night began to creep up the walls around the king. Any moment now the goblins would come bursting in from their day to sit around the throne and become miserably drunk. Jareth had only a few precious minutes of silence left before the little oafs came parading in.

A sudden idea came to him, instantaneous and sparkling. It struck his mind like lightning and a sinister smile crept over his face. His mismatched eyes flashed lewdly. He had it.