My first Labyrinth fanfic, hopefully a successful one. I do not own any characters mentioned, all belong to Jim Henson.


Once upon a time, there was a king. He was no ordinary king, ruler of no ordinary kingdom. He was the Goblin King. He was known to be cruel, handsome, and cold. With Fey blood and magic running through his veins, he had lived longer than anyone could remember, and would probably live longer than anyone could guess. But this king had a secret. As harsh as he seemed to his subjects, his threatening facade was only a mask.

The Goblin King was lonely.

He had searched far and wide for someone to rule at his side, but they were all rejected. Not by him, mind you. He'd rather enjoyed their company while they lasted. No, they were rebuffed by the very soul of his kingdom - the Labyrinth. A living maze of illusions and dreams, the Labyrinth had a very big say in who was to rule it. And so, girl by girl was discarded until the king could take it no more.

"It is much better to be alone than faced with this constant disappointment," he confided to the Labyrinth. "It would be much easier if I could simply make such a girl that would meet both of our desires." The king left after this casual statement, leaving the magic-filled maze with his words echoing. Make. Make. Make.

The Labyrinth knew what must be done. All that was left was to do it. What were little girls made of? Certainly not sugar, spice, and everything nice. The Labyrinth wanted no ruler made of such stuff. Carefully, it gathered and pieced together the ingredients. Fire for her flesh. Stars for her eyes. Magic for her blood. Bit by bit the girl was formed, until she was complete. Overjoyed, the Labyrinth called the Goblin King to it. Irritated to be so rudely interrupted from his sulky brooding, the king demanded to know what was so important.

I have your queen, the Labyrinth whispered to him.

The king was dumbfounded; was it really true? "Where is she?" He asked.

She is here.

The king looked, and she was. A tiny bundle of cloth lay on the stone ground. He picked the child up, but she did not move. He touched her face; it was cold. "What.. what have you done?" The king cried out. "This child is dead!" The Labyrinth was silent for a moment.

I created her. She is born of magic.

"You do not understand the consequences of such an act," the king growled. "You cannot form a living, breathing being out of magic alone. I was not created thus, neither were you." He stared at the pale face of the small girl, and brushed back her dark hair. It was his fault she had been formed, so he must fix it. "However, there is a way. I can give her part of my essence."

This will give her life?

"It is possible. But even if it wakes her, it will not be enough. I must bring her to the surface, to the world of mortals. If taken there, the dreams that are infused in her very being will react to the dreams of humans around her, and she will live. But to have a chance, she will need to grow up as a mortal, live, breathe, think as a mortal. Only when she has awakened the magic inside of her can she return."

How will she return?

The Goblin King looked up with a smile, his pointed teeth glinting. "I shall fetch her, of course." He frowned. "Although, I suppose she should know something of our world before she comes. It would be rather vexing to explain everything to her." He felt the Labyrinth swirl in response. A red, leather-clad book appeared.

A story spun with threads of truth. The child will not need more.

The king looked at the cover, which spelled out LABYRINTH in intricate, gold lettering. "A bit full of yourself, are we?" He sneered. "Very well. The child-"

A name. She requires a name.

He paused, unsure. "Yes, I suppose she does.." He considered her serious face with regal intensity. "She shall be called Sarah, a name of ages meaning 'Lady' or 'Queen', for when she holds my lifeblood she shall be as such."

He took a knife and pricked his finger, allowing the silvery liquid flow. With a bit of pressure he pried her mouth open and dripped the glowing substance between her frozen lips. He muttered ancient words, softly at first and then shouting them to the heavens. Exhausted, he pressed his forehead against hers and waited, praying. To whom, he didn't know. Why, he wasn't sure. But he was quite sure of one thing, this child's fate was to live.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the child began to shift. With bated breath, the Goblin King watched the critical progress. Finally, she opened her eyes. Green like cypress leaves with gold like fire swirled in never-ending depths; they stared curiously at him. The king felt strange. What was this bubbling joy inside him? What reason had he to be so happy with this success? But the strange feelings disappeared the moment Sarah opened her mouth.

"How do I make it stop?" The king yelled over the wailing. He tried bouncing her, but the noise only intensified. "I hate children," he growled.

Sing. A gentle, lilting wind curled about him like a laugh.

The king paused his attempts. "I'm sorry?"

Sing.

With no other option, the king sighed at the girl. "This is entirely humiliating. I suppose any human lullaby will do, won't it?" He hummed a ditty about the stars and the lack of knowledge of their astronomical locations while rocking her back and forth in his arms. Her cries did not quiet, but she looked at him with tears streaming down her reddened face. He groaned. He'd have to be a bit more original. He rested her head on his shoulder and patted her small back, while crooning old words in her ear.

"Cysga di fy mhlentyn tlws

Cysga di fy mhlentyn tlws

Cysga di fy mhlentyn tlws

Cei gysgu tan y bore

Cei gysgu tan y bore.

"Hwian hwi fy mhlentyn tlws

Wedi cau a chloi y drws

Hwian hwi fy mhlentyn tlws

Cei gysgu tan y bore

Cei gysgu tan y bore.

"Hwian hwi fy mychan glân

Cysgu mae yr adar mân

Hwian hwi fy mychan glân

Cei gysgu tan y bore

Cei gysgu tan y bore."

By then the sobs had had quieted to hiccups, and Sarah's eyes were closed. The Goblin King's shoulders sagged with relief. Carefully, without disturbing the child, he picked up the red book his Labyrinth had created for the girl.

"I must take her to the surface now, she won't last long down here without dreams."

How long must she stay away?

The king looked wistfully upon the tiny, delicate face, still wet with tears.

"I do not know. But she will come back, she cannot deny her magic forever. Or us." Without another word he vanished, leaving the Labyrinth to its enigmatic musings.

Sarah. I await your return.


I'm thinking this is gonna stay a one-shot, I like it too much to mess with it a whole lot. But, then again, I might be persuaded.. *cough cough* money.. Nah I'm joking guys but seriously I hope you liked it.

English translation for Welsh lullaby:

Sleep you now, my pretty child

Sleep you now, my pretty child

Sleep you now, my pretty child

Sleep until the morning

Sleep until the morning.

Lullaby, my pretty child

The door is closed, and safely locked

Lullaby, my pretty child

Sleep until the morning.

Sleep until the morning.

Lullaby, my little one

All the birds are sleeping too

Lullaby, my little one

Sleep until the morning.

Sleep until the morning.