AKA Goblin's worst casting choice for Jareth EVER. Like all my multi-chapter fics, this will contain a butt-load of pairings.

Sigurd Bondevik was bored. That wasn't an uncommon occurrence for him.

He was often bored. He was pretty sure that he had been spoiled by books and movies and his mother, as he always found himself waiting for an adventure. He dreamed of dragons and Hobbits and daring sword fights and magic and demons and yetis and vampires and trolls and himself interacting with those listed above.

The schoolteachers and neighbors knew him as a dreamer at best, downright weird at worst. The other kids didn't like him much, although the occasional girl would flirt at him every now and then. He didn't care enough to interact with any of them. They were all boring and ordinary and fake.

Only one person had ever left a true impression on Sigurd's heart, and that was his mother.

Rowena Bondevik had often read him stories. Fantasies, adventure novels, sci-fi stories... but most prominently, she had read him fairytales. All the classics and then some, with stories by the brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Anderson and several you've never heard of. He grew up on Rose Red And Snow White, and Thumbelina, and The Three Brothers, and several stories about the King of the North.

The King of the North might have been something Mrs. Bondevik had come up with on the spot, perhaps an old teenage fantasy of hers. The king ruled over a frozen Labyrinth and several faithful, if a bit dimwitted, subjects. He was a powerful, ill-tempered king who stole young girls' siblings and brought them to the Labyrinth.

Sigurd had always admired the king. He sometimes wished in secret that he could live in the Labyrinth and befriend the king. In his mom's stories, the king was always a figure of confidence and intrigue. He was genuine and dramatic and brave. He was an ideal that Sigurd strove to live by after the accident.

His mother had died that day, and Sigurd shut himself up in his room for months. To entertain himself, he wrote stories. Fantasies, mostly. Escapes from reality.

Eventually, his father married a stern woman and they had a child together. His name was Emil and Sigurd instantly loathed him. Sigurd loathed anything to do with his stepmother, and tended to avoid her.

She wasn't particularly awful, but quite restricting, and didn't approve of Sigurd's constant daydreaming and apathetic attitude. Sigurd didn't approve of her intolerance and general air of superiority.

On this particular evening, she had asked Sigurd to baby-sit. So, Sigurd was sitting in his room, fiddling with a music box and ignoring Emil.

Eventually, he noticed that something was missing.

"Mr. Puffin..." he muttered, glancing at his bed. Sure enough, the plush bird was missing. "Someone's been in my room again."

He got up, slamming one of the drawers on his desk closed, and went over to his brother's room. There in the crib sat Mister Puffin, Sigurd's beloved childhood toy.

Sigurd picked up the bird, frowning at the baby.

"I hate you, you know." he told Emil. The baby was crying, though not quite loudly. He was whimpering, and there were tears running down his face, but he wasn't wailing.

"Crying will do you no good." Sigurd told him.

The baby kept crying.

"Want to hear a story?" Sigurd asked, an idea coming to him. He picked the baby up, cradling him gently as he began to tell his(highly abridged, as his full story was rather long) version of the tale of the King of the North. "Once, there was a young man whose mother died, so his father married a wicked witch who birthed a spoiled child. The witch and the baby worked the young man to near death, and the father did nothing about it.

"What no one knew was that the King of the North had given him certain powers. The boy suffered in silence, until one night when he could bear it no longer. He called upon the icekind, who were minions of the King. 'Say your right wordss,' the icekind said. The boy stood tall and recited the words that had been given to him.

"King of the North, wherever you may be, rid me of the burden that is this child."

Sigurd paused, as Emil kept crying.

"I wish I did know the right words..." he muttered. He put Emil back in his crib, and started to leave the room. Just as he reached the light switch, he stopped. "I wish the icekind would take you away."

He turned off the light.

"Right now."

As he stepped into the hall, Sigurd noticed something. He could no longer hear his half-brother's irritating whimpering.

"Emil?"

He turned the light back on. Or, at least, he tried to. The power must have gone out.

Sigurd strode over to the crib, pulling back the covers.

He sighed.

Emil was gone.

An icy chill overtook the room, and Sigurd felt like he was being watched. From what he could see, he was all alone, but he knew better.

There was an owl at the window. A snowy owl.

Sigurd went and opened the window, meaning to demand an explanation. There was obviously something magical afoot and Sigurd meant to get to the bottom of it.

The owl looked rather taken aback at the invitation, but it flew inside.

And it was no longer an owl.

Sigurd, done gasping, merely raised an eyebrow,

Sparkle, sparkle.

The owl had become an incredibly good-looking young man, with gravity-defiant blond hair, and piercing ice-blue eyes. He was wearing a cape that sparkled like the night sky, beautiful clothing befitting a nobleman and... really tight pants. His eyes were well defined with what looked like makeup, but might have been his natural fairyness.

Sigurd couldn't help but stare.

Even without a crown, it was apparent who this new arrival was.

"You're him, aren't you." Sigurd said, playing it cool. "You're the King of the North."

The king blinked.

"You know who I am? I mean, of course you do. My awesomeness is basically legendary. I didn't figure I was so popular that even mortals knew of me, though! Guess I shouldn't be surprised... have I amassed a following?

Sigurd wasn't exactly sure how to respond to this blatant dorkiness.

"My mother told me stories of you." Sigurd said. "I thought she had made them up."

"Oh." said the king, a bit taken aback. "Huh. Must have been one of those prophetic types..."

"I'd like my brother back, if it's all the same." Sigurd replied. Also, you're criminally sexy. He added mentally.

The King smirked, apparently trying to be cool and mysterious.

"What's said is said, sweetheart. He's long gone now."

Sigurd crossed his arms.

"Yeah, but I'm sure you have the power to bring him back, and if you don't, I'll strangle you with that frilly neck piece of yours."

The King's expression turned dark.

"You dare threaten the King of winter? I almost think you don't deserve the gift I brought you!"

"Gift?"

The King produced a small crystal sphere, letting it rest on the tips of his fingers.

"Isn't it neat? Some loser elf sold it to me at, like, a quarter of it's worth!" he exclaimed. "I think it does magic fortune telling or something... want it?"

"I want my brother back." Sigurd replied.

"Hey, you wished him away. I merely did what you asked!" the king said defiantly. "Forget about him!"

"No." Sigurd replied defiantly. "You can boss me around all you like, King of ice, but I'm not going to obey. Make your own damn sammich."

The King frowned again.

"My name is Aksel." he told Sigurd, who blinked in surprise.

"You never said what your name was in the story..." Sigurd muttered.

"This isn't a story, Sigurd. This is real."

"I'm very well aware of that. Where the hell is my brother?"

"I think you know very well where he is." Aksel replied with a wide grin. He pointed towards the Labyrinth, which certainly hadn't been there a moment ago. "He's in there. You have-"

"Thirteen hours." Sigurd said, cutting him off. "I have thirteen hours to solve the Labyrinth before you turn Emil into one of the icekind."

Aksel looked surprised.

"Uh... yeah. Exactly."

"Great. See you in thirteen hours or less."

Aksel stared at him for a moment more, much like a dog stares at that last bit of steak before you eat it, then turned on his heel and disappeared.

"I didn't expect my childhood hero to be such a jackass..." Sigurd muttered to himself as he walked over to the Labyrinth. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time, much like the king of it. It was made entirely out of ice and snow, and the castle at the center sparkled in the sunlight.

Something in pink stood out from the white. A little boy, clothed in a dress, was going about with a spray can, taking aim at the little fluttery things that hung around the walls of the Labyrinth and shooting them with the contents of the bottle.

Sigurd gasped when he realized that they were fairies, with snowflakes for wings.

He rushed over and picked up one of the little creatures, stroking its hair.

"Poor thing..." he muttered, then glared at the little boy. "You brat! What do you think you're doing?"

The little boy jumped, and turned to the Norwegian boy with an expression of contempt.

"I'm doing my job, fuckass."

Sigurd was a bit taken aback by the words coming out of the kid's mouth, but he was still more than a little angry.

"You're hurting them! What on earth gives you the right to do that to another living creature?"

"I'm just ridding the place of those damn little pests." the boy said grumpily. "Watch out, they bite."

Sigurd looked down at the fairy, who sat there innocently. It made no move to harm him in any way. In fact, it looked completely smitten with the young Norwegian.

"Well, they usually do. That one must be stunned by your stupidity." the little boy huffed. Sigurd placed his accent as Italian.

"You're such a well-mannered child." Sigurd said sarcastically, putting the fairy down.

"I'm not a child!" the boy shouted. "Before I wished my stupid brother here, I was an adult! I had a job and a car and a cat and a boyfriend who's the most annoying man on the planet and-" the maybe-child started crying. "Leave me alone, jerkface! You might as well give up right now, because no bitch has ever made it through this goddamn Labyrinth and that sure as hell ain't gonna change now!"

"You wished your brother here, too?" Sigurd asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He deserved it! And then I tried to solve the Labyrinth but Aksel was like 'fuck no' so he turned me into a little kid and my brother into a worm and now I'm stuck working here!" the Italian ranted, tears flowing down his cheeks.

Sigurd couldn't help but feel a little bad for him.

"Geez, Aksel really is a royal ass." the blond muttered.

"That's what I've been saying!" the Italian exclaimed.

"What's your name?" Sigurd asked.

"Lovino Vargas."

"I'm Sigurd."

"Figured as much. His royal jerkiness won't shut up about you." Lovino grumbled. Sigurd sat down in front of him.

"Is that so?" the blond asked, a bit creeped out and a bit flattered. "I'm sure that's how it is for all the unfortunate people he brings here."

Lovino shrugged.

"I can tell you that he didn't give a rat's ass about me."

Sigurd had nothing more to say on the subject, so he changed it.

"What's that you were saying earlier, about a boyfriend?" Sigurd kind of wanted to be a writer when he grew up, so hearing other people's stories might help him with that. Or maybe he just wanted to change the subject.

Lovino sniffled.

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo – the most obnoxious, annoying, oblivious, air-headed man in the universe... god, I miss him."

"Well, Lovino, if I make it to the center of the Labyrinth, I'll make sure you get sent back to where you came from – proper age and everything."

"Thanks, but nobody has made it through the Labyrinth." Lovino said darkly. "I'll eat my apron if you make it through."

"Even though you say you're an adult, you're really a little brat." Sigurd sighed. "Tell me how to get into the Labyrinth, and I'll let you be."

Lovino pointed to the door which hadn't been there before.

"Thanks." Sigurd said blankly, tugging it open. Inside, he found what was sort of a hallway. To the left, there was a stretch of wall. To the right, there was another stretch of wall. It was real exciting.

Sigurd immediately put his hand against the wall, for that was the trick with mazes. He started off to the right, and didn't even flinch when he heard the door slam shut behind him. He walked and walked, and walked a bit more. He kept walking until he grew very frustrated and promptly kicked the wall and sat down with his arms crossed.

"Fuck this Labyrinth. I really really hate Aksel right now. What a -sexy- bastard. Holy shit, the ground is like ice. Wait, it is ice. Damn snowy king of frostiness."

He grumbled to himself like that for a moment, until a small voice made him snap back to reality.

"Ciao! Would you like to come in and have some pasta?"

Another Italian?

Sigurd looked down at the chilly wall he was sitting against. There, on a little ledge of snow, sat a little worm with bright amber eyes and curly antennae.

"Are you... the foul-mouthed boy's brother?" Sigurd asked.

"Si! That's-a me! I'm Feliciano Vargas! Just call me Feli, if you like! I know who you are; you're Sigurd! Everyone's been talking about you!"

"... You're a worm."

"Uh-huh! When my fratello failed to solve the Labyrinth, the king turned me into a worm! It's alright, I guess, but I really miss Ludwig!"

"Who's Ludwig?"

The worm sighed dreamily.

"The man I love more than anything in the world – even pasta! He's kinda strict and scary, but he's also really sweet and caring and brave and strong!"

"I bet you really hate Aksel for taking you away from him."

"I think Aksel really doesn't have a choice." the worm said thoughtfully. "The wish-away words are supposed to be given to the one he falls in love with-"

"To be fair, the words aren't that hard to figure out."

"-but other people stumble upon them and he's forced to take whoever they wish away! And I suppose it's just convenient for him to turn those he kidnaps into caretakers for the Labyrinth."

"Still, he's an asshole."

The worm laughed.

"You sound like my brother!" it said. "Sig, I may be a bit naïve, but I think Aksel has a heart of gold beneath his coldness! I mean, you're cold, too, but I'm certain you're a nice guy because you're here for your brother, and that's super nice!"

"Thanks..." the blond said. "Hey, do you know how I can get out of this never-ending hallway? I need to get Emil back."

"The hallway's not never-ending, silly! It's full of openings! There's one right across from you, trust me!"

Sigurd stood up, and walked forward. Sure enough, he didn't hit the opposing wall when he thought he would.

"Wow... thank you, Feli. I hope you can find Ludwig again someday..." the Norwegian told the worm.

"Me too. Good luck, Sigurd! I hope you find your brother! And go easy on Aksel, alright? He's not all bad!" Feliciano called as Sigurd disappeared from sight. "Wait a minute, that was the wrong way..." the worm said with a frown. "Darn it! I never get it right! Oh, I hope he makes it..."

Since I have most of this written down, this will be a way to pass the time until I start posting Frostbite.