A/N: This, this is for every Sarah that was created weak. I don't like the whole "Omg goblin king you raped me, but I'll put up with it" nonsense. I hate abusive spouses with such a passion that the hyperbolic quote I just typed makes me want to punch the computer. It just doesn't click with me, and especially with Sarah. She is a spoiled teenager, who has a wisdom score of a (generously speaking) 10, and the behavior of a twelve year old…yet she can take out a Fae King? Let's face it, she is a badass…in my opinion she should remain one.

Disclaimer: If you click on my stories you will see a note saying I do not own the labyrinth, and since my last story the status quo has yet to change.

Jareth sensed something was out of place when he reentered his chambers that evening. The air was stale with an scent he could not recognize. Candle wax dripped from every stick, wicks were ash, and the room dark. Magically, Jareth relit the room. He glanced around, quickly his frustration became visible.

"Sarah, where are you? Come out, I am in no mood for your silly games today." Jareth was answered with silence. He sighed and sat on his bed, trying to rein in his temper. He slumped backward onto the mattress, the crinkling of parchment was the reply to his relaxed impact. With a start he sat up, and glanced at the spelling of his name on a beige envelope. Pulling out the note he began reading. He winced when his hand slipped along the edge of the paper, giving him a deep paper cut. Out of reflex, he magically sealed the wound.

Jareth,

You once asked me if I was happy with you…when I could not answer you grew angry and scorned me for quite some time. I feel enough time has passed so that I can answer you honestly. However, I wish the following thoughts planted in your mind before I answer. So I ask; do you know what it is like to have your entire life planned out for you without any choices, from your speech to your wardrobe? Do you know what it feels like when you are forced into a loveless marriage? And do you have any idea how it feels to fear for yourself every single day, hating who you are, wishing you were stronger?

Doubtfully.

I won't lie, after I came home for the first time, and those few years afterwards I liked you. It was my naughty little crush that gave me the greatest daydreams in high school. I believed you were handsome, wicked, charming, and well, you were my basis of comparison for all men. I decided I would be a crazy cat lady eventually…since you became my perfect kind of man. Unattainable.

However, the instant you came back into my life, the instant you decided to blackmail me with Toby -again, and the very moment you forced yourself onto me, you became a monster in my eyes. You may claim that because we're married, or that because you 'love' me, it makes everything okay. You're wrong. I was unwilling, and I did not want you. You forced me in this sham of a marriage, you forced me to enact 'a wife's duty' and you forced me to humor you. You have beaten me, punished me for having thoughts and opinions that differ from yours. You have humiliated me, and tortured me in many ways, only to expect my gratitude.

Your ideas of generosity has grown most unorthodox, to say in the least.

You may ask yourself, why am I telling you this? Especially since I know you so well, the moment I am found, you will beat me within inches of my life, heal me, fuck me, and then pretend everything is okay by gifting the 'queen' with jewels and dresses. Well if you haven't figured it out yet, dear "husband" , here is the punch line. I'm no longer in the Goblin Castle, and I am no longer in your accursed Labyrinth.

And for your sake, I would continue reading, because you never know, I might have left a hint as to where I will reside once this letter is finished.

This has been a long time coming. No longer am I docile and submissive to you. You thought I conformed to your deranged beliefs, well, you underestimated me when I defeated your Labyrinth, and you underestimate me yet again. If only you knew by how much. I remember the first time I defied you, you punched me, cracked my cheekbone. I had a bruised gash for several days because you refused to have me healed, apparently it made 'the lesson well remembered'. And as stubborn as I was, I continued defying you. And you continued punishing me. It wasn't until the first time you almost killed me that I realized what I must do, in full anyway. So I planned, while you slept, I planned. I practiced blocking my thoughts from yours, I was already adept, since you never understood the fullness of my misery, but I wasn't quite strong enough. When you believed I was a hollow-shell, that was me hiding my thoughts as I plotted my vengeful escape.

And since I am a firm believer in dramatics, I decided that I should create a document of my transgressions in the form of a letter. Which you now read.

Jareth suddenly felt an itch in his throat, he coughed a little before he continued reading. He shook with rage.

How long have you been reading? A few minutes or more? I wonder…never mind.

The worst were your good days, you behaved with a tenderness that belied your true self, and teased me as if we were truly in love. I remember meeting your family the first time, you punished me for being too uptight around them, and that I should be nicer. So the next time we met, I did exactly what you asked, verbatim. I was sweet, and I joked just like your mother, and sister. I rejected your brother's advances, praising you as if you were a godsend, even though he was quite dashing. I played your game, and yet somehow I still lost. You broke my arm because I "disrespected" you.

And I simply took it, pitiful really.

Jareth began coughing again, he suddenly felt nauseous, he blamed his rage as the cause.

I wonder, husband of mine…are you perhaps coughing at this point? Are you feeling warm or nauseous? I certainly hope so.

Jareth paused suddenly, glancing around the room, confused he continued coughing and scratching at his throat as he read.

Now how would I, a lowly human, would know about that? I'll give you a hint, husband. Since it has been at least a full minute since you entered our room, it's already too late for you. You've been feeling weaker lately haven't you? Do you ever wonder why? Your food and water have had a strange taste to them as well haven't they? You've never voiced your concerns, but they were there.

I know because I caused them.

For a 'man' so well versed in humans, you are a poor study of their anatomy. We are literally poison to you. Our blood harms you, our diets harm you. Salt, iron…we all carry it. It's in my sweat, my blood, my tears…everything concerning me is made to harm you. It was simple really, a few more vegetables at the dinner table, and I collected sand and saltwater when we visited the Oceanside of the kingdom. Of course it was while you slept, since I couldn't swim without you, and fae aren't partial to saltwater for obvious reasons.

It took weeks planning. I consulted a few of the least favored goblins, and within a month, I struck. Subtly of course. When the candles were being replaced, I laced the wax and wicks with salt and I bled out into them. I reopened a gash that you gave me when you broke my wrist. Which would explain why our candles were a different color, You thought they looked lovely enough so it was passable. Imagine every time you lit a candle, you were slowly killing yourself. And I spiked all of your meals with salt. So everyday, you slowly grew weaker, and more pitiful. Now, you can barely summon a crystal, and your hands shake. And just when you decide to see a physician, he quits and leaves the kingdom.

But in truth he really did not leave you, the rebellious goblins I earlier mentioned found a nice oubliette for him to rot in. Well…what was left of him anyway. I never liked your healer, he was a right bastard whenever he patched me up. Insulting my heritage, and giving haughty smirks the few times I cried. Reminded me of you.

So now you know, I'm not happy, but I will be. You're dying- which makes me happier. And my plan was to find a way home, or settle down, but the goblins decided to offer me your job. Naturally, it hasn't been advertised until yours truly ensures there is an opening in the position as the true monarch.

You may think that you can run for help, but you will find none here. Your only ally is dead, the rest are angry goblins. And you feel your symptoms worsening for some reason, don't you? As you read, it gets worse. Your throat tightens, you feel nauseous and pained. A shiver races across your flesh, you are feverish by now.

If you must know, this paper is written with iron ink and I dipped the edges in this concentrated ink. The edges of the paper were made stronger and sharper so if you get a paper cut -as you so often do, you're quite clumsy in that regard, than iron enters directly into your blood stream. I needed to catalyze your condition. So in the few minutes, or even seconds you have left in your life, I have this to say.

Jareth's brow furrowed as there was nothing left written. He flipped the parchment over and glared. His visage reddened, and violence flooded his eyes.

"What? What did you have to say?" He shouted, his death be damned.

"You never had power over me," a voice behind Jareth replied.

With a start, he whirled to face this demonic force. She was bathed in velvet and lace, this witch before him.

With a surprisingly social tone in her voice, the Goblin Queen continued, "You almost did, you broke me, but I still refused to become yours. And now, you lose. I beat you, Goblin King, you've failed."

"Miserable witch," Jareth hissed.

The Goblin Queen smiled at the jibe, and she stalked around him. Her jewelry made tinkling sounds, and the soft shuffling of her gown joined with her erratic breaths in a concert of hatred.

"I never did properly thank you for nearly destroying me. I didn't know how I should go about it exactly. Card…fruit basket? Or perhaps," The Goblin Queen revealed a small stone, "total evisceration."

"You see, my love," The Goblin Queen began with a bitter smile, "This is a lode stone, pure iron. Almost impossible to find in the Underground. It cost me a lot. But it was worth it." As she spoke, she drew closer to the weakened King. And with each step she drew near, Jareth groaned in agony. His skin burned, but he shivered all the same. His blood boiled, and his heart quivered.

"Oh, such a pity," The Goblin Queen cackled.

"Stop, Sarah-"

"Don't call me by that name, wretch!" The Goblin Queen scolded as her hand that clutched the stone rushed toward Jareth's skin. It burned on contact, and Jareth screamed.

"You have no right to utter my name, Sarah does not exist for you. You're dead, nothing more than a corpse. Weak and worthless," The Queen hissed.

"I-I'm sorry."

"No you're not, you just don't want to die," The Goblin Queen smirked.

Jareth couldn't help it, he chuckled, "It was worth a try."

The Goblin Queen reared back and laughed at the comment. Jareth shivered, his breath was shallow, and he began coughing up blood. Jareth narrowed his eyes, he reached for his murderous bride. Her laughter stopped and she glared. Jareth felt his arm slow.

"Go ahead Jareth, hit me. Come on, I'm killing you, do something about it," The Queen goaded, slapping the dying king with the lode stone. His skin sizzled, blood flowed along his cheekbone. His reaction was instantaneous, his arms lashed out, his fist collided into the Queen's form in a standard, but surprisingly potent "one-two punch". The Queen nearly slumped to the floor, but she did not fall. She bounced back onto her feet with ease. And she laughed at him.

She laughed. Laughed at him.

He was truly powerless, and he was about to die.

"Oh Jareth, in what world could you possibly beat me?" The Goblin Queen cackled once more and held the lode stone against Jareth's heart.

"S-sss-stop!" He cried.

She ignored him, The Queen pressed her weapon harder into him, the scent of blood and burning flesh filled the room, yet the woman once known as Sarah did not even crinkle her nose. She smiled.

Soon, Jareth's eyes emptied, and he slumped onto the floor. The Goblin Queen sighed as she wiped the lode stone on the corpse's tights. As she hid the lode stone back into her bodice, she strode over to the fallen King. Curiously, she stared at him, there was no remorse in her, and in one swift motion she tore the medallion from Jareth's pulse-less neck. She glared at the symbol, but she put it on nonetheless. She felt power surge from the medallion and join with her. She was the true monarch, no longer a trophy queen for a tyrant, but a newly powerful authority figure that ruled over great lands.

And so, the woman once known as Sarah, had the former Goblin King's body dumped into a certain bog with olfactory issues. His evil decay permeated throughout the bog, and its smell miraculously worsened. No longer was it a common threat for a common punishment, but a monument of evil, a testament that enhanced the Queen's power. Very few questioned her, and those that did…well as they say in stories such as these, they were never seen again.

A/N: o.O' I'll probably get flames for this, but I don't mind. I haven't done a death scene in forever. It felt nice getting in touch with my creepy middle-school self again. XD And I am not outright insulting evil Jareth/ weak Sarah stories, if that's what you want to write, (as my psychology teacher says) "More power to you" however I'm not going to read it. I like Good vs. Evil, and when Good wins. With the exception of The Villain…cause I love Kirk Douglas…and the good guy was an idiot. But anyway, don't take this seriously, and don't take offense, because I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Just sharing my opinion. And yeah, I did quote Buffy again, specifically when Angel was pretending to be Angelus in Season 3. And I also quoted A Knight's Tale.