The Prince

By: I Agree

I in no way shape or form own Labyrinth or its characters. I am a mere storywriter who enjoys twisting up the lives of fictional characters to suit her vicarious romantic and squee-moment needs.

Chapter One: Thirteen

The number 13 was stalking her.

Thirteen seconds after she'd gotten home from her adventure in the Underground she'd stubbed her toe running up the stairs to check on Toby. Thirteen minutes after returning home she'd seen a large white barn owl just outside her window. Thirteen hours and the family had received a call from her mother's agent who reported the actresses fatal accident. Thirteen days brought about a broken leg, thirteen weeks saw the end of her Otherworldly friend's visits, and thirteen months produced a house fire which almost took her father from her.

It wasn't just with time that the number popped up either. At the coffee house her latte, muffin and bottle of water turned up to be $13.13, despite the fact that her friends exact same order rang up differently. She, without fail, would trip on any thirteenth step, any doorknob marked by the number would give her a little shock, and any thirteenth page of a book, magazine, or newspaper would give her a paper cut. Suffice to say Sarah Ann Williams hated the number thirteen.

The young woman glared at the clock on her bookshelf, knowing it was taunting her. The damn thing stopped thirteen seconds before thirteen minutes to midnight. It was faulty, yes, always stopping at random moments but she knew it was taunting her this time, mocking her with the number which had been tormenting her for so long now. She even knew why, which made the whole situation even more detestable. Tomorrow would mark the thirteenth year.

With a frustrated curse, Sarah turned on her heel and all but stomped to her kitchen. A quick glance to the digital clock on her microwave told her that it was indeed thirteen minutes to midnight. She wrenched open her pantry and grabbed the box of hot chocolate within it hoping the hot drink would help her get to sleep like it had since she was a young child. She hadn't been able to really sleep for a week now, not since she realized how truly close The Year was.

It had bothered her since the Month so long ago when the family had stood outside of their home watching the flames burn away their entire lives. If this is what happened at thirteen month what was going to happen when as many years went by? What would the horrible number bring then? She would find out, of course. She'd call in sick just for the occasion and more than likely she would spend the day in her little apartment like a shut in. Doors would be locked, shades drawn and she would be tucked under a blanket in her living room, eyes locked on a ticking clock.

With a hand more patient than she was feeling, Sarah lit her rather defective stove with a match and placed her kettle over the flame. She glanced over to the microwave. Twelve minutes now.

She felt cursed. At twenty-eight years old she'd had yet to have anything go right in her life. What was worse, was that she was bored. Her adventure in the Underground, in his Labyrinth, may have matured her greatly, but it also left her with some expectations. A simple life of going to a nine-to-five job, dating a simple, regular man, going on simple and boring lunch dates with vapid and shallow girlfriends just didn't seem to cut it. She didn't want to talk about that awesome new movie with the woman who gets pulled into an unimaginable adventure or that one 'epic' book about the main character being pulled to fantastical places. She wanted to experience them.

She was waiting, waiting and wanting her life to be remarkable, to be filled with adventure. And she hated that.

Really it was all her fault. If she hadn't been so foolish as to wish Toby away all those years ago then she wouldn't be going through this. Her mother wouldn't have died in that horrible crash, all those relationships with those 'nice boys' wouldn't have fallen through, her parents house wouldn't have been gone. If she hadn't acted like a spoiled child so many years ago she would have been a normal woman now, not one people saw as a paranoid, eventual cat lady. She didn't even like cats.

Another peek to the digital clock. Eleven minutes.

She nibbled lightly on her fingertips, eyes returning to stare sightlessly at her homely little kettle. In all honestly, while she was – rightly – afraid of the coming day, she was also extremely grateful to eventually leave it behind herself. After tomorrow there would be no other 13th that she could reach. Not really. She wouldn't be alive for the thirteenth decade, nor century, nor millennia, so unless she didn't live through tomorrow she would be, in essence, free. All she had to do was make sure she was safe and sound in her recliner, maybe with a nice book, all the doors and windows locked, all the mechanical appliances unplugged, dangerous cutlery in their proper places. What could possibly go wrong then?

Her entire body tensed at that line of thinking, and Sarah rolled her eyes. What could go wrong? How about everything! With a heavy sigh she reached over and tugged the microwaves cord from the wall just as it turned from eleven minutes away from midnight to ten. Instantly the little screen went dark and with shaking hands she turned off the stove, thinking better of having a fire lit so close to The Thirteenth Year. Instead she whirled on her feet and went back to the living room. She grabbed up the blanket on the couch before settling herself in her chair, covered from toe to chin with said blanket.

Her eyes flicked to the window, locked tight with the curtain drawn, before roving around the room as if she would be able to see whatever was going to cause her mischief. There was, of course, nothing there. Not a single thing out of place, nothing that shouldn't be there already. It was going to be fine. She would get through this day, nothing was going to happen.

She sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to one of the many clocks she had around the apartment. It ticked loudly with each second, nearly lulling her to sleep as she counted the seconds. She counted a good four hundred and eighty two ticks before she decided that, yes, it was safe to sleep. Whatever was going to happen would probably wait 'til later, yeah?

Yet, just as her eyes were about to flutter close, as she was about to fall asleep, her gaze was pulled to something that didn't seem quite right.

Sarah frowned, blinking a few times as she squinted through the darkness of the room at the stopped clock on her bookcase. Or at least, the bit of out of place red beside it. She didn't have any red books. She really didn't have red anything.

She slowly rose to her feet, eyes locked on the suddenly appearing object. Her heart pounded in her chest as she paced forward, breathing shallow and shaking. Mere feet away from the bookshelf and she had to stop, lungs frozen.

It was a book, but not just any book. It was the book. Its red cover was charred lightly but the gold lettering still blazed brightly in the dark. This was impossible. Everything had been lost in the fire; all of her things had been reduced to ash, her clothes, her books. And yet there it was.

Labyrinth.

Distantly she heard a few of her clocks begin to chime, listening as they called of the time. One. Two. Three.

With a shaking hand she reached out and picked up the book, running trembling fingers over the binding. Four. Five. Six.

A sudden, soft gust of air had her whirling to face the window. With a horrified gasp she realized the pane was open, allowing a cool breeze into the room. Seven. Eight. Nine.

The book dropped from her numb fingers as she rushed to the window. She slammed it shut, turning the lock firmly before slowly backing away. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Thirteen.

A quiet sound of shifting right behind her had Sarah squealing in fear, spinning around again to see what had gotten into her house. To her utter surprise a small child stood just feet away, platinum blonde hair a stark contrast with the darkness of the room. No more than five years of age and dressed in clothes befitting a prince of fairytales, the little boy was utterly out of place in her small, plain apartment. Rather disturbingly though, he held her book in his hand, silently studying it.

Before she could speak up, ask him how he'd gotten in he looked up to her, she was pinned by a pair of pale blue eyes. His left pupil was completely dilated.

A mischievous smile appeared on his small face. "Play with me."

(-TP-)

Word Count: 1,504 Date Written: 16th – 18th December 2011

A.N. First and foremost, this fic is the first Laby story I've ever attempted (aside from a random idea that went nowhere .), and while I'm a bit nervous about that I thought it was a good enough storyline to actually post it. I hope you enjoy. Secondly, I do have some recognition to give. I had been reading the lovely comic 'Roommates' (by Ashe-Ryder on deviantArt *gives props*) and saw a certain section with an adorable Mini-Jareth. I was instantly barraged by a plunny, and this chapter almost literally wrote itself.

Please Regard Me Kindly,

I Agree