A/N: Welcome! Please read, or you might be terribly confused!
This story is based on my understanding of an Irish myth where a fae queen becomes human. Therefore, for the first few chapters you won't see the name "Sarah" anywhere. Queen Etain becomes Sarah later on, though her character remains the same. Just wanted to clarify, because I would hate for someone to think I'm writing a Jareth/OC story.

Got it? Good! On with the story!
I don't own Labyrinth or the centuries-old story, "The Wooing of Etain." Alas.

Chapter One

Our story begins at a wedding.

The tinkling sounds of wine glasses, jewels, and baubles on the breeze can be heard even before the voices. White drapes, illuminated by thousands of candles from inside a ballroom, billow out windows into the night. For miles around, the rolling countryside is quiet and empty. Everyone is at the party.

Guests came from the ends of the Underground to attend the event of the year- the nuptial ball of King Jareth and Queen Etain. While fae, nymph, and elf alike spun and twirled around the dance floor, the royal couple stood on a dais high above the rest, still receiving the last of the warm wishes.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you married well, sire," an old fae Lady said to King Jareth as she held onto his hand with both her frail ones. "And to such a pretty thing, too."

Queen Etain blushed but said nothing, preferring to just curtsey to the woman. It wasn't hard for the Queen to let the long veil attached to her new crown cover her face when she came upright again.

"You know," the King said, not even looking at Etain, "you're absolutely correct. I imagine it'll be a wild night, wouldn't you say?" His eyes waggled at the old woman, daring her to take offense.

If Etain was uncomfortable with the innuendo, she didn't show it. The old woman did, however, and left after giving the King a disgusted look.

The King took his reserved seat and put his polished leather boots up on the table. "And that, my dear, is how you rid yourself of unwanted guests. Gods, she was as clingy as a human, that one." He conjured up a crystal and began rolling it over his fingers, idly.

The Queen cleared her throat. "Would you mind if I took my leave for a bit, my lord?" she asked formally, "Your advisor has asked for a dance this evening, and I want to keep my promise before I get too tired. It's been such a busy few days."

"Well I wouldn't want you too tired before tonight," he said with a rakish grin, "but yes, go ahead. I'll catch up with you later."

She left without a glance backward. The King's advisor was the only true friend she had at the party, and she'd been dying to see him since the sun broke through her curtains that morning. Though her friends were few, there were plenty of acquaintances from back home whom she'd been forced to invite. In the midst of her search, she was stopped by every one of them. And she would have dutifully remained in the thick of these status-climbing guests had she not felt a tap on her shoulder.

"I believe you promised me a dance, your Highness," a male voice said. She gave a sigh of relief and turned around. He looked like a boy at his first ball: his long, sleek cape swished around him, his eyes were wildly made up with dozens of colors, and his smile was as impish as any debutante. She could almost forget he was a full century older than her.

Queen Etain smiled her first genuine smile of the night, and all her weariness melted away. "Of course, Mithir. I'd actually come down here to find you and got… a little sidetracked."

"I understand. I'm sure it's hard to get away on your wedding day." He gallantly offered his hand and led her away from the clingy guests.

He took her onto the emptying dance floor where they fell into a strange, complementary rhythm. She was grateful for Mithir's presence to help her ignore the crowds at the edges of the dance floor; she still wasn't used to being watched so intently, and especially when performing this particular waltz. The formal, ritualistic dances the noblest fae preferred were danced in close, almost indecent proximity and involved lots of spinning. Etain wanted no part of them.

Her preferred style of dance was reminiscent of a swan, all arched back and dancing up on her toes. She longed to keep her arms wide apart in little half arcs, spinning every so often. And then Mithir would come in to toss her into the air when the low winds joined the song, as he had so often when they were children. Almost as if he could sense her unease, Mithir got a twinkle in his eye. She had only enough time to quirk an eyebrow up at him before he grabbed her by the waist and tossed her slight frame high in the air. She squawked and, without thinking, slipped into her avian form before she could fall back down. The room gave a collective gasp; transformation magic was increasingly rare among the fae of the Underground. They watched with mouths wide as she flapped her snowy white wings and landed gracefully on the ground before rising as a woman once more.

Jareth was staring at her with arms crossed from the band's stage. He gave her a cutting look that she couldn't decipher, but he didn't give her time to analyze it.

"And a one, two, three, four!" He clapped, and the band followed him into a jolly piece of music fit to shake the rafters of the ballroom. The guests cheered and joined him on the dance floor. The strange, magical interlude was forgotten.

"What was that about?" the King said harshly in her ear once he reached her. Mithir nodded at them both and bowed out, giving her an apologetic look. The King ignored him and continued, "We'll do a proper wedding dance now. Follow my lead."

And she did. She followed his lead all through the night and long after she'd stopped reminding him of her fatigue. He pushed her onward, dance after dance until he was holding her nearly limp body to his chest. He finally dropped her into a chair to bid farewell to the last remaining guests, and she fell asleep almost instantly.

When she felt herself being cradled against his chest and carried up the stairs to his bedroom, she panicked. He'd be expecting the wedding night to begin. How could she possibly follow through in this state? The only thing her sleep-addled brain could think to do was lock the door to his bedroom with a little of her magic. He wouldn't be so ungentlemanly as to demand his rights in her room. She tried to give the impression of sleeping in his arms as she waited. Thank goodness he couldn't read her mind just yet.

She heard him curse and fidget with the lock, even going so far as to throw a crystal at it. But eventually he gave up and went down the hall, opening her bedroom door with ease. He laid her on the bed and looked at her for a few moments. Etain fought the urge to squirm uncomfortably under his stare.

"Until tomorrow night, my Queen," he said. When he closed the door quietly behind him, she was able to breathe again. She snuggled into her plush comforter, kicking out of her dress and veil from under the covers.

When she was finally on the brink of sleep, a sigh came from her mouth: "I wish Jareth would love me, properly." And though she was too tired to decipher if it was spoken aloud or in the first hints of her dream, an unnoticed pulse of magic rippled from the center of the castle anyway.

A/N: And there you are! Leave a contribution/review in the little box.