Author's Note: This is my first Labyrinth fanfic and the first thing I've written for my own amusement for quite some time. It is also my first work on here. Please forgive me if my characterisation is a bit off or if you come across any errors (I have proof-read and re-drafted this several times, but I'm only human). Constructive criticism is always welcome, so feel free to give me a gentle poke if you feel the inclination to do so.

The first chapter of this could be a stand-alone, however I have written a whole story after this and I am already working on a sequel, so let me know if you want more. Otherwise I'll just keep them for my own amusement :P

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Dreamer's Reality

Sarah was a dreamer. She had been ever since she was a little girl, when she would act out the scenes from her favourite fairytales; stories of kings and queens, princes and princesses, in lands where chivalry was commonplace and magic was abundant. When she grew older she would act out scenes from her favourite play, in her favourite park, dressed up in her favourite costumes. And every night she would dream. She would dream of those kings and queens, those princes and princesses. She would dream of a life she never thought she could have in her waking hours, a life that she loved and longed for. Yes, Sarah was a dreamer.

Jareth was a king. A king of goblins, but, more importantly, a king of dreams. He watched the girl, Sarah, he watched her as she spent her life dreaming and playing make-believe. He listened as she read from those books of fairytales and recited the lines of the plays that she adored so. He observed her as she took it upon herself to create her own personal escape from the reality that she had been dealt. She was such a fascinating creature. He was enchanted by her and he would grant her those dreams that she dreamed. Yes, Jareth was a king of dreams.

Sarah's first meeting with that king of dreams came when she was fifteen years old.

A selfish wish brought them together, a wish from a spoiled young girl who wished her brother away to the goblins. She pleaded with the Goblin King, as he stood tall and intimidating before her, and he took pity on her, allowing her to attempt to solve his Underground Labyrinth. During the course of her plight to save the youngster, the Goblin King did all he could think of to prevent the girl from succeeding in her quest and leaving his enchanted lands forever. In a charm-induced dream, they danced, waltzed around an elaborate crystal ballroom among the masqueraded gentry of the Underground. He held her in his arms and hoped never to have to let her go. But Sarah, his Sarah, fled from his arms and smashed the crystal dream into a million pieces.

Even with all of his trickery and cunning, the Goblin King found himself defeated at the hands of the girl, who denied his offer of everything she could ever want. She refused his offer of her dreams and returned home with her stepbrother, leaving him with his heart shattered like that crystal ballroom.

For ten years, Sarah dreamed of the Goblin King and his Underground kingdom. She dreamed of the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on, those platinum blond feathers of his hair, those stunning mismatched eyes that looked like fire and ice all at once and his perfectly formed body, his smooth chest revealed by the luxurious silk shirt he wore and his legs wrapped in sinfully tight breeches. In her dreams, they danced, danced to that haunting tune as he serenaded her. Their bodies moved as though they were one, as though they were made to dance together, as though they were never meant to be apart. And in her dreams, Sarah fell in love.

But as many dreamers find, the reality of life rarely lives up to the desires of the heart and their dreams. Sarah resigned herself to an existence that would never quite live up to her own high expectations. She never once dared to call upon that king of dreams, for fear he might refuse her, leaving her with the knowledge that there was nothing better waiting for her elsewhere.

"What is it that you're looking for, Sarah?" the question was laced with venom. They had just got back from an evening arranged by her publisher and Bryan was pissed, in both senses of the word. He was looking for an argument and Sarah knew it. It wasn't worth the effort to try and avoid it.

"I don't know what you're on about," she lied, kicking off the sandals that had been cutting into her feet all evening.

"Oh, come on, Sarah. Every time we go to one of these ridiculous parties, you spend the whole night scanning the place, as though you're looking for someone," her husband accused.

"The whole point of these 'ridiculous parties', as you call them, is to network, Bryan! There'd hardly be any point me bothering at all if the only person I spoke to all night was the person I live with," she replied, exasperated.

"Don't give me that, 'it's only my job' spiel, your job is to write children's fiction, not to spend the evening flirting with the guys whose wallets you'd like to get your hands on! And while we're at it," he grabbed her wrist as she turned to make her way through to the kitchen, "what's going on with you and Mr. Flashy-car-and-Armani-suit?"

"What?" Sarah looked back at him, trying to work out which of the many guests her husband could be referring to.

"You know the one I mean, that kid with the scruffy blond hair and the keys to his daddy's porsche."

Sarah had to laugh at that, Bryan was jealous.

"Don't laugh at me, Sarah!"

His eyes were dangerously dark now and his grip on her wrist threatened to render it permanently useless if he didn't let go soon.

"Bryan, let go," she finally said calmly, looking at his hand on her.

"Not until you tell me what's going on," he growled.

"There's nothing going on between he and I. For a start, he's married. And secondly, since you seem to have forgotten, so am I. Now, please let go. You're hurting me."

"That doesn't mean there isn't something going on between the two of you," he spat, practically throwing her hand back at her.

He made his way to the cabinet where they kept a small collection of liquor bottles and appropriate glasses and Sarah watched as he poured himself a measure of whisky and downed it in one swift gulp. As he poured himself another, she turned and made her way upstairs, hoping for at least a little peace before he decided to join her. She didn't imagine he was going to let her sleep without first reminding her of just whom it was she was married to.

'Like I need reminding,' she thought to herself as she ascended through the house.

That had been a week ago and she still had the marks that her recklessly jealous husband had left upon her as he took what he believed to be rightfully his. Now, Sarah sat in front of her vanity unit, gazing at the reflection before her, although only twenty-five years of age she appeared several years more. Those emerald green eyes that used to burn like fire were dulled, glistening only with the threat of tears. She would have thought that she was all out of tears to cry after all this time. Her focus shifted from those desperate eyes, to the angry red mark on her cheek, not the blush it once would have been, but a definite hand print. The handprint of her husband. The man who was supposed to love and cherish her. The man she feared more than any she had ever met.

Even more than Him.

He watched her, through his crystals. He watched as she suffered at the hand of someone who proclaimed to love her, but who never so much as held a door open for her. He could save her, if only she would call, but she never did.

Was it stubborn pride?

No.

Sarah, his Sarah, his precious Sarah, had stopped believing. She still dreamed, but those dreams were merely her escape from the brutality of her waking hours, she didn't believe they would ever come true. She had even convinced herself that her journey through his Labyrinth had been a dream and that the stories she wrote were based on the dream of a fifteen year old girl. And so, she never called.

Lightning flashed across the night sky, startling Sarah from her study of her own reflection, it was quickly followed by the low rumble of thunder. It was so close. Almost right on top of the house that she now resided in. Her eyes darted around the room, as though looking to see if there was anyone in the room with her. She was alone. Her husband had stormed out of the house following their latest row. He had, once again, accused her of being unfaithful, those dark eyes of his flashing with jealous rage. She had denied it, as she always did, it was after all the truth, but he would never believe her. He would never believe that she was telling the truth and would punish her for her 'lies'. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as it all replayed itself in her mind.

"Don't lie to me Sarah!" Bryan spat at her, backing her towards the arm of the plush sofa as she trembled. He was a good head taller than her and when he was angry, and especially in the dim light that penetrated their living room from outside, he was positively terrifying.

"I'm not," she whimpered. Her teenage self would have scorned her for allowing a man to have such a hold on her. "I swear to you, Bryan." Her voice was now pleading, pleading for him to believe her, pleading for him to stop. She felt none of the courage she had on previous occasions.

"Liar!" He drew back his hand and brought it down upon her cheek, his handprint clear as crystal on her skin.

"No," she shook her head, trying to fight back the tears in her eyes.

He was so close to her now, she wasn't entirely sure of when he had come so near, but she could feel his breath on her cheek, she could smell the alcohol that lingered there from his stop at a bar on the way home from work. His hands were on her hips, holding her still as he made sure that she could feel what was coming. Sarah was sure that their arguments gave him some kind of thrill. It was probably the rush of power that he felt over her.

"Please, Bryan. Please, don't do this."

"Oh, Sarah," he whispered, so softly. His tongue caressing her name, his breath tickling her cheek and down her neck. "Sarah, Sarah, Sarah."

She tried to keep breathing normally, as her head began to spin as though it were she who were drunk. He didn't notice though, as he began trailing kisses over her soft skin. Pulling aside the neck of the long-sleeved t-shirt that she wore. He placed feather-light kisses along her collarbone and then across her shoulder, moving back to nuzzle her neck for a moment before biting down hard. She cried out in pain, sure he was about to break the skin and draw blood. The tears she had been fighting back finally escaped her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.

What followed next was a blur. Somehow, although she wasn't sure of the exact details, she ended up on her back, laid before him on the plush cushions of the sofa, her clothes strewn about on the floor. His weight descended on her, crushing her so forcefully that she could feel her ribs bruising. His lips, those lips she had once craved to feel against hers, moved down her body, now unwelcome. His hands joined them, strong, rough, careless hands that made her skin crawl beneath them. She trembled in anticipation, though not the same pleasurable anticipation she had felt what felt like a lifetime ago. She knew what was coming and she braced herself, biting down on her lower lip, closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to block it all out. She couldn't fight him anymore.

Sarah finally opened her eyes again, her cheeks stained with the pathways of her tears. Another flash of lightning lit up the sky, quickly followed by the inevitable growl of angry thunder. Without a second thought, she stood up and rushed down the stairs and out through the front door, into the unrelenting thunderstorm. She had to get out. She had to get away. Now, while he was out drinking to his conquest over her.

She had stepped out into the raging thunderstorm without a coat, but she didn't care. She had barely left the front porch and she was already soaked to the skin. It almost felt refreshing, as though it could wash away every trace of him from her. She sprinted in the direction of the local park, the only place she could think of that would allow her the peace that she so desperately longed for. Her legs protested as she refused to slow her pace, her lungs burned with every breath she took. Finally, as she crossed the bridge to her favourite spot, she allowed her body to win and came to a halt, the rain still pounding down around her. The jeans she wore were muddied from the grass she now collapsed onto and everything she wore clung to her curved form. She leaned over, bracing herself against the sodden ground as she gasped for breath and tried to fend off the feeling of nausea that had begun to wash over her.

"I wish someone would come and take me away from this awful place!" she screamed into the storm, her words almost an echo of those she had spoken the night the had wished her brother away to the Underground.

The only answer to her plea was another flash of lightning and a clap of thunder. Sitting back on her heels, her eyes darted around the surrounding area, almost hopefully, but that hope soon died as she realised she was still alone in the freezing downpour.

He saw the hope flash in her eyes and it tore him apart when it vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared. He continued to watch her as she sobbed openly, her tears mingling with the drops of rain that streamed down her face.

"Oh, Precious," he whispered softly, his heart breaking once more as he observed her in the crystal that balanced on his gloved fingers. She had finally made a wish, for the first time since she was fifteen years old, but he could not respond to those words. She had to say the right words before he could save her. "Say your right words, Sarah. Just say your right words and I'll come for you."

She had no idea how long she knelt in the muddy grass before she dragged herself to the bench that stood only a few feet away. She sat with her head back, aimed towards the stormy sky, her eyes closed against the raindrops that stung her frozen features.

'It's my own fault,' she thought. 'I should have taken my dreams when I had the chance.'

Tired, or rather exhausted, she lay down and closed her eyes, just for a moment. Somewhere, deep inside, she knew it was stupid, that she should get up and force herself home, but her body refused. She wouldn't return to him. Not this time.

She curled up on the bench, folding her arms and using them to cushion her head, her whole body now numb with cold. She could no longer feel, she could barely even breathe. Her teeth chattered slightly as she shivered uncontrollably.

The last words that left her lips, now blue with cold, were barely audible even to her own ears. The wind howled around her, like some pained beast. Her final plea, her last hope, was drowned by the cries of the elements, but still they were heard a world away,

"I w-wish the g-goblins would c-come and t-take m-me away...r-right now."

Sarah didn't notice the explosion of glitter a few feet from her, nor did she notice the strong arms that lifted her from her position on the park bench, holding her as though she might shatter into a million pieces at any moment. All manner of consciousness had departed her.

Sarah was lost to her dreams.