She did not know exactly when it started, but Sarah Williams had her suspicions. Sometime after her adventure in the Underground, after beating the labyrinth and winning back her brother, she began to notice something strange.

At first, it was subtle. Easy to dismiss as a trick of the light or an overactive imagination. Her pale skin was flawless, glowing. Hair smooth and sleek. Every outfit flattering. But only in the mirror above her vanity littered with trinkets, makeup, and pictures stuck in the wooden frame. Every other mirror she gazed into reflected all the imperfections and flaws, the truth, whether Sarah wanted it or not.

She knew she should tell her friends. They had helped her in her journey through the labyrinth and were always there when she needed them now. Calling upon them through the very same mirror that perfected her image, she would talk to them about her life, her struggles to be normal, and her loneliness every time she realized she would never be ordinary. They would know better than anyone if she should worry. However, she didn't. She feared they would only confirm the magic was from him.

Jareth, the Goblin King, had offered her her dreams. Offered her everything, determined to distract her from her victory. Sarah recited the words she knew in her heart she needed to say to save her baby brother, Toby. But to say she had not played and replayed those few moments over and over in her head as she lay awake, safely tucked in bed, would be a lie. The stark expression of loss and rejection in his eyes was a vision she yearned to forget but knew she never would. Though she never let herself dwell on the possibilities of what that truly meant.

Anything from him would have to be destroyed to protect her, to protect her little brother. Destroying the mirror might keep her safe but it also meant losing her friends which she would not risk. And really what was the harm in a little glamour?

And so, she continued on as usual, basking in the reflection of the mirror that enhanced her beauty, wishing it were true. Ignoring the small voice in her head that reminded her that accepting a gift from him could only end in disaster.

It wasn't until the morning of her 18th birthday, those fears became harder to ignore. A glimmer in the early morning sunlight, caught her eye. A silver band adorned with a trillion-cut emerald surrounded by small round diamonds graced the fourth finger on her reflection's left hand. She could feel the cool metal against her skin, the weight on her hand although her finger was bare. Staring at the ring in the reflection, she was amazed at its brilliance. The significance of such a token was not lost on her.

The ring's ghostly presence was constant, a reminder…a warning.

Her 19th birthday brought even more change. Regardless of what she wore, her image in the mirror wore only the finest gowns. Silks, velvets, gossamer fabrics she never seen in her life, all embroidered with intricate designs of vivid colors she could not name. It terrified and intrigued her, and she often found herself standing on chairs, tilting her mirror down just to get a glimpse of the details at the hem which grew more ornate every time she looked. She could feel the fabrics flowing around her as she walked, trains trailing behind. Her posture straightened with the support of invisible corsets. She held herself as any lady befitting such attire would.

The gowns' beauty and finery were an offer, a promise…a temptation.

But Sarah continued to pretend that all was well. Never mentioning to anyone what she saw within the looking glass. She made sure to take it with her when she moved out of her childhood home.

The day she turned 20, the room behind her likeness no longer mirrored her own humble bedroom. The space in the reflection was larger than her entire apartment. Woven tapestries, candles resting on carved mahogany tables, and sconces lit with dancing flames decorated the stone walls. A large bed with navy and silver curtains hanging from the frame above the four thick posts, revealing lush bedding sat in the same place as hers. Bookshelves were filled from floor to ceiling. How she yearned to read the spines to see what stories they held. And a chair, wide and upholstered with black damask, the wood frame more fitting for a throne room than a private chamber occupied the furthest corner. She swore at times she would see a shadow sitting there, a presence she could feel.

The room was a sanctuary or gilded cage…the shadow; her savior or captor. But which would it be?

She covered the mirror.

For the first time, Sarah found herself wondering how her life would be different if she had accepted Jareth's offer. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave. She knew she had done the right thing. She would never change her choice; Toby was too precious. But once the seed was planted, it flourished.

For months she questioned everything. Why had he done this? Was it a punishment? Was it a trap? Or was it just a gift? His generosity rising to the occasion. Did he ever think of her or was she just another mortal who had crossed his path? Why did she even care?

Pulling the thin sheet off the mirror, she closed her eyes to avoid temptation and called to her friends. "Hoggle, Ludo, Didymus, I need you."

"Sarah, is that you?" the croaky voice of Hoggle asked.

"Hoggle, it's so good to see you." Sarah couldn't conceal the panicked concern that alighted within her when she opened her eyes and saw only the dwarf. The knighted fox and rock caller missing from the square wooden frame. "Where are Didymus and Ludo?"

"They're, ah, working." His brows furrowed, wrinkles deepening in his brow. "It's been a long time since we've heard from you. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah—well, I'm not sure. I needed to know—well, I just wondered if he still hated me?" Her voice usually so confident, determined was full of hesitation not knowing exactly how to start. She could barely look him in the eyes, guilt gnawed at her. She should have been truthful from the start.

"Hate you? I don't ever think he ever hated you."

She glanced at her friend. "But I-we tore down his city, beat his labyrinth…I beat him...rejected him."

A dark chuckle left his lips. "That you did. And he was furious. But I don't think he ever hated you for it. Why-why do you ask?"

She couldn't keep it in any longer. For the next few minutes, she told Hoggle everything. About the mirror, the reflection that changed through the years, the ring, the clothes, the room…

"You have to get rid of it. Break the damn thing if you need to. No good could come from this," he said when she had finished.

"But I wouldn't be able to see you anymore. I can't do that." It would break her heart. They were the only true friends she had. The only ones she could talk to about magic and other worlds. "Do you really think I'm in danger?"

"I can't say for certain. It's definitely not good. Hopefully, he'll be too distracted with his wedding to do anything too terrible."

"Wedding?" The shock of hearing those words was nothing compared to the surprise she felt at her own reaction. Her stomach plummeted, churned at the thought. "He's getting married?"

"Yes, to some foreign princess. No one has ever seen her." He stopped and glared at Sarah. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," she quickly recovered. "I'm just surprised anyone would agree to marry him."

"Ha! So were we. But renovations are underway. Feasts and festivals being planned. I've got about a million fairies to kill in the gardens."

"Oh, well I'll let you get back to it then," Sarah's fingers trailed the along the edge of a small glass bowl filled with jewelry she sometimes wore.

"Ok, Sarah. But remember if you ever need me…" the dwarf's voice trailed off, his eyes downcast in the guilty hopeful way it always did when their short time together was over.

"I'll always need you, Hoggle. And I'll always call."

The smile he gave her disappeared, replaced with her own but straighter, whiter. The mirror image no longer reflecting her stance, waved at Sarah and beckoned her closer. The surface of the mirror shimmering, rippling as though it was liquid. Sarah threw the sheet back over glass.

The night before her 21st birthday, Sarah barely slept. What change would the morning bring? She lay awake for hours. Whether the nervous energy coursing through her veins was from fear or excitement she did not know.

Sleep finally overcame her long after night had fallen but the sun seemed to rise too soon as she opened her eyes and saw the darkness lingering outside. The light that shone, waking her from her fitful dreams came from under the sheet that shrouded the vanity.

Her feet hit the hard floor. The creaking in the wooden boards deafening in the silence as she tiptoed across the room. As she stood and moved in front of the vanity, she saw it was a single point of light.

Her hand paused, gripping the sheet. Palms clammy, knuckles white, sweat beading across her brow. Coldness burned across her forehead. A weight settled against her hair. She knew what she would see when removed the covering.

Sarah stared at the crown gracing the figure before her. A single jewel shining like a star adorned the circlet. The woman looked so happy, not reflecting the fear or confusion her Earthly counterpart felt. A hand reached towards the image, pale slender fingers wearing a beaded jacket she knew immediately, offered itself to the ethereal queen, twirling her until she laughed and sweeping her into a waltz, the faint sound of music teasing Sarah's ears. The room spun before her eyes, dizziness forced her to the floor.

The crown was a dream, a longing…a nightmare.

For weeks, under the weight of her invisible trappings which grew heavier by the day, she thought of nothing but the mirror. What was her mirror self doing? Was she with him? Thoughts that always devolved into jealousy of a figment and further still into envy of the real princess who might already be queen.

Why did it bother her so? She couldn't actually want that life, could she? A life without the petty worries of mortals. Rent, bills, family with expectations, acquaintances that would never understand her enough to be friends, yuppy wall street hopefuls that thought she should be grateful for their leers and back-handed compliments, illness, death. Why wouldn't she want to give all that up for a life filled with magic and possibly…love?

It was ridiculous. Impossible. She knew then the mirror wasn't a gift. It was revenge.

Finally, she could bear it no longer. Careful not to touch the reflective glass, she detached the mirror from the small table. Not knowing if it would work, she rested it on a chair next to her bed. She laid down, watching the other Sarah do the same. She could feel the satin and lace nightgown against her skin although she wore unadorned cotton.

Her skin was luminous, glowing in the moonlight that shone through the arched windows of the castle her reflection resided in. Eyes bright and clear even in the dimly lit room.

Sarah gasped as a figure crawled over her likeness. The silhouette unmistakable, his silvery hair falling over his shoulders, tickling her bare arms. The woman beneath him, rolled to her back welcoming him with a warm embrace as he pressed his lips to hers before trailing kisses down her neck, his hand cupping her breast, pulling down the satin draped over her body, covering her nipple with his mouth, grazing it with his teeth until it peaked in a hard point.

Sarah felt each hot breath against her. Wetness gathered between her legs, an ache so exquisite, its intensity had her nearing the precipice that bordered between pleasure and pain.

He continued his descent down her body, satin sliding up her hips until she was bared before him. She arched as his head dipped between her legs.

The sensation of his mouth on her thighs, tongue sliding between her lips, all too faint for anything but frustration to build. And yet, Sarah could not look away as he pleasured the other her even as jealousy and regret overcame her curiosity and lust.

Her reflection turned to her face once more towards Sarah, her hand outstretched to the mirror's edge. For a brief moment of weakness, Sarah yearned, reaching back towards the girl she would never, could never be. Her fingertips grazed the cold glass and the world around her fell.

A fire roared to life in the hearth across the room Sarah found herself standing in. Seeing the whole space, for the first time she realized the reflection had not done it justice. The one thing was noticeable missing-a mirror. How was she going to get back? Panic blossomed in her chest as fear bloomed in the pit of her stomach.

A motion from the corner caught her eye. Sitting in the chair, fingers steepled, elbows resting gently on the upholstered arms, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, sat Jareth. He looked as though he had been waiting for a long time. Waiting for her.

"Send me back," she demanded and quickly adding, "Please."

"No," was the immediate reply. His eyes narrowed on her.

"I want to go home." This couldn't be happening. One moment of weakness. One. And she found herself back in the place she swore she would never return to.

He regarded her for a moment. His posture and gaze never moving. "If that was what you truly wanted, you would not be here."

The clipped accent of the Goblin King made her feel like a child once more. "What? That's not true," she argued.

"Oh, but it is." He rose and cross the room in a few long strides. He wore simple black breeches with a white muslin shirt hanging open loosely, his amulet resting against his bare chest. "The mirror showed you your dreams, fantasies, desires. And they led you here. To me."

She tried to calm her heart, but the anger as she remembered what Hoggle had told her made it race ever faster. "What about your bride?"

He paused, eyebrows raised as he regarded the woman standing so close after so much time. "My bride?"

Sarah couldn't believe she was here, pressing the Goblin King for details of the woman she had come resent so bitterly. "You were planning a wedding. Hoggle told me." She crossed her arms in front of her. Why did she feel like she was pouting instead of interrogating?

"Ah, did he now? I suppose I was planning for the arrival of my bride, my precious, my princess...my Sarah." His voice was low, somewhere between a whisper and a sigh. His fingers traced the curve of her jaw, thumb stroked her bottom lip.

Closing her eyes, she bit back a moan of pleasure at his touch, her body still overstimulated, ready and willing. "You won't send me home?"

"No." His hands cupped her face, tilting it towards his.

"Why?" She knew she should fight this. Should fight him. But his touch, reverent and gentle, enthralled her. Her arms dropped to her sides. She felt his lips hovering over hers.

"Because now I have what I desire too."