DISCLAIMER: I don't own Labyrinth, Sarah or Jareth. I just borrow them occasionally for my own daydreams.
This story is based off the drawing by Pika-la-Cynique entitled 'Here's the Day You Hoped Would Never Come' at deviantart DOT com (can't get the bloody link to work here *grrrrr*)
Warning: This story is a darker look at the Labyrinth and characters. As such it deals with adult themes. Consider yourself warned.
Embrace the Darkness
Chapter 1: An Unwelcome Calling Card
Thunder rumbled overhead, the dark clouds threatening to break the two-month drought that had plagued the area. Sarah flipped her hair over her shoulder as she looked up at the deep blue-black clouds that rolled across the sky, blanketing the horizon. It may have been four in the afternoon, but the brewing storm made the sky almost black.
Shifting her backpack on her shoulder, Sarah shivered, remembering the last time she witnessed a storm that promised to be as severe as this one was shaping up to be. She sighed, shaking her head to try to banish the thoughts of her time in the Labyrinth from her mind. Nearly ten years had passed since the day she foolishly wished away her baby brother. While she regretted her wish, she did not regret the adventure she had or the friends she made. She thought of her friends and her adventure on a near daily basis, but had not actually spoken to them in at least five years, as one by one they had failed to answer her calls.
She last heard from Ludo on her twentieth birthday. Hoggle and Sir Didymus had not answered her call for nearly a year before that. Sarah never heard from any of them after that night. She suspected that something had happened to them, but the only way she felt she could confirm her suspicions was to call upon the Goblin King, and that was something she was unwilling to do. She couldn't even bring herself to think of him by name, eventhough she knew it. If she learned nothing else in the Labyrinth, she learned that words have power and she was pretty sure that his name definitely had power, a power she was loathe to unleash into her life again.
Sarah was afraid that once invited back into her life, she would be unable to get rid of him again, and she really didn't need him in her life – at least she kept trying to convince herself of that fact.
It wasn't working.
The fact was he regularly featured in her dreams and nightmares. Years of studying psychology at university had taught her without a doubt, that he had influenced her life heavily, even to the point of no longer bothering with dating, since no mere mortal man would ever live up to the standards he had put in place for her. Not only had he influenced her life, but her course of study as well.
As the first of the heavy drops began to fall from the sky, Sarah ducked her head lower, trudging faster toward her apartment at the edge of campus. She had spent most of the day in the bowels of the campus library, putting the finishing touches on her PhD thesis, 'Labyrinth's of the Heart: the Fine Line Between Love, Lust and Loathing' before sending it to the campus printer. It was still something of a miracle in the Psychology Department, that she had managed to complete her undergraduate through PhD work in under ten years, but she had – coming in at seven years, almost to the day.
Having been at the library since it opened at 7am, Sarah planned to go home, take a long bath, drink herself into a stupor and sleep until at least noon, before picking up the bound copies and delivering them to her faculty. She was relieved that this particular adventure was over, as she prepared to move on to her next challenge, taking up a position as an Assistant Professor of Communication Psychology at a large state university.
She reached the outer doors of her building just as the sky opened up, heavy drops rapidly giving way to pellets of hail the size of peas, that ricocheted off the sidewalks, cars and windows, sounding for all the world like someone was throwing handfuls of small pebbles at random. Taking one last glance around the parkland where her apartment building was built, she saw a flash of white in a nearby willow. With a gasp, she launched herself through the outer door, thankful her swipe card worked tonight, as it frequently didn't.
Once securely inside, she pressed the door closed, breathing a sigh of relief as it latched shut with a loud metallic click, only then did she find the courage to press her face close to the window, searching the willow for the owl she was sure she saw. A bright blue burst of lightening illuminated the tree, now empty, leaving Sarah to wonder if there had been anything there in the first place, or if her imagination was just having a minor case of the 'heebie-jeebies' courtesy of the storm. As she made her way up the stairs to her apartment, she tried not to think about him, but he always seemed to invade her thoughts whenever a storm was brewing.
While she often dreamed of the Goblin King, Sarah was not silly enough to entertain any romantic notions about him or his motives. Thanks to her studies, she had spent many hours over the years, analyzing her memories of the Labyrinth. Oddly enough, she knew without a doubt that the events did actually take place and she was not merely suffering a mental break, although others in her classes (particularly her professors) might disagree with that assessment. And, while she did not doubt the reality of what happened, she did doubt her 15 year-old understanding of things.
It took her until her junior year of university before she finally understood the full import of what the Goblin King had really been offering her at the end. As a teen she had some romantic notion that it was a marriage proposal, upon closer examination she realized it was more of a slavery contract, and not for his slavery to her. No, she was sure that what was being offered was tantamount to indebted servitude of an indefinite length, a rather nasty trick to try to pull on an innocent 15 year old.
The truth of the offer aside, the Goblin King was still an influential male figure in her life. Every boyfriend she had ever had was willowy but muscled, tall, blonde, fair-skinned and to a one, cruel. All were aggressive verbally, but a bit of aggressive sparring was refreshing and invigorating, reminding her of the sparring she had done with the Goblin King. That said, some of her boyfriends had crossed the line into verbal abuse. Several were physically abusive in a sadistic sense, and two were physical with her in a kinky sense – which she really didn't mind as much, if she was brutally honest with herself, as she always imagined that the Goblin King would have been a bit like that had she taken him up on his offer. But the relationships never lasted more than a few months.
Sometimes, something would happen that would remind her so strongly of the Goblin King that she would break off the relationship immediately. With Darrien, she was getting into her car, which had been locked securely all day, only to find a perfectly ripe peach sitting in the driver's seat – in mid-January. Peaches were definitely out of season. She broke up with him by phone as soon as she got home.
The warnings seemed more overt if she had been physical with the man in question. With Finn, she had been taking a shower at his place after spending the night. As she was toweling off she saw a faint movement behind her in the mirror – only she was alone in the room. Leaning over the sink she wiped the mist from the mirror and saw the Goblin King's angular, aristocratic and visibly angry face quite clearly. He seemed to be calling to her, holding out his hand as if entreating her to come to him. She was sure it was him, because as she screamed, he smirked at her, his mismatched eyes flashing wickedly from behind the glass of the mirror, then he was gone. She broke it off with Finn immediately, unable to get out of his apartment fast enough.
Then there were the two physically abusive boyfriends, both of whom met with rather questionable fates. The night after Paul beat her up he was found wandering the park near where Sarah practiced lines as a teen. He had been brutally beaten and kept whimpering about little grey creatures with big eyes. Paul never bothered her again, in fact, since he had been committed to the state mental hospital, Sarah was pretty sure he was not going to be hurting anyone ever again. Based on his description of the little grey creatures, she was pretty sure that the Goblin King had a hand in his current condition. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful or horrified, and more often than not, horrified won out.
What happened to John was worse. Sarah couldn't even bring herself to think of it in any detail as to do so would give her nightmares for the next month.
And He had the nerve to accuse me of being cruel. Bullshit! – she thought ruefully.
Sarah stopped dating at all after that. Unconsciously, she seemed to resign herself to being alone, somehow it seemed safer as she wondered when the Goblin King would tire of warning her off them, and take matters into his own hands, and she didn't want to see anyone else get hurt on account of her.
Reaching her floor, Sarah sighed deeply as she slipped her key into the lock. Just a few more moments and she would be safe inside her own home.
As much as she felt a physical lust for the Goblin King, or at least the memory of him, he scared her and she took measures to protect herself. Opening the door she caressed the ornate Celtic cross hanging from the peephole, pressing a kiss to her fingers before running them over the iron scrollwork. Her home was filled with an eclectic mix of Celtic and pagan talismans, amulets, markers and designs, many of them specially commissioned from a local ironworker. Cold forged iron, every last one. She had no idea if it would help, should the Goblin King get it into his head to force a visit upon her, but it was worth a shot. Since she had begun fortifying her home with cold iron, she had not had anymore visits or warnings from the Goblin King, but she was not one to let that little coincidence allow her to relax. If there was one lesson she learned well in the Labyrinth, it was that things were not always as they seemed.
Feeling for the light switch, Sarah felt a discomforting sense of déjà vu as a loud growl of thunder echoed around her. Flicking on the switch, she sighed with relief when the lights came on, only to go out as a sharp flash of white light pulsed through the windows of the balcony, followed by a tremendous CRACK.
"Damn," she muttered, dropping her backpack in heap by the door.
Sarah took a deep breath, trying to still her heart as it threatened to leap out of her chest. Ever since the power outage when the goblins took Toby, she had hated thunderstorms. When she was still living in the dorms on campus, it wasn't so bad because she had friends that she could go sit with. However, at 25 years old, it was a bit childish to need to sit with friends just because the power was out due to a storm.
Sarah found herself humming a song from her past as she moved toward the kitchen. It still bothered her, that every time the power went out from a storm, she would immediately find herself humming the song that the Goblin King had sung to her in that crystal abomination of a ballroom. Considering the amount of hail that was being thrown forcefully against the balcony windows, it did indeed seem as if the world were falling down.
Finding her lighter in the kitchen basket, Sarah lit the ironwork lantern that she kept for emergencies. Moving to the freezer she plucked out the bottle of vodka that she had been saving for the night her thesis was finished – tonight was that night and given the storm, she could use a little liquid courage to get her through.
Unscrewing the cap of the vodka bottle, Sarah took a deep drink of the icy fluid, coughing and gasping as it burned its way down her throat, heating her insides and removing the chill of fear she had felt when she thought she saw the owl outside her building. Carrying the bottle in one hand and the lantern in the other, she headed toward her bedroom. The power might be out, but she could still relax in a hot bath.
Sarah paused in the hall, seeing the steadily blinking red light on the answering machine, blinking rhythmically despite the storm thanks to the battery-operated system. Frowning, she pressed the play button. The only person who ever called on a Friday and left a message was her step-mother and even she only called if she needed a babysitter for the weekend, not that Sarah minded watching Toby these days. On the contrary, he was the only member of her family that she enjoyed spending time with – one of the positives that came from her Labyrinth experience.
The tape groaned and scratched as it began to rewind with a faint squeal, then just as quickly, the sound began.
"You silly bitch! How dare you undermine my authority with my son! He is mine to punish and you should not interfere. Letting him run away to your place is only going to cause more problems. I want you to bring him home immediately," screeched the harsh voice of her step-mother.
Sarah gasped at the venom in her step-mother's voice, while trying to figure out what on earth the woman was talking about. She hadn't spoken to Toby for two weeks, not since the last time she went across town to babysit. Fast-forwarding to the next message, Sarah hit play once more, praying that it was a message saying that there had been a misunderstanding and Toby was safe at home.
"Sarah…it's your father. Look, Karen is sorry for her last message, it's just that Toby didn't come home from school today and she is really worried. He got in trouble for fighting and she thought he might have run away to your place. If you hear from him, please give us a call. Thanks Pumpkin."
Biting her lip, Sarah checked the time of the last message, 7:24pm…. Almost 3 hours ago. Hitting play once more, she held her breath as the tape reel squeaked painfully as it started once more.
"Sarah," it was her father again, his voice cracking and pained, as Karen sobbed in the background, "It's Dad again. It is 9:45. Please call me. Toby is still missing. The police won't do anything until tomorrow, saying he probably is at a friends. But we've called everyone, no one has seen him. Again, if you hear from him, for the love of God call us immediately."
Sarah trembled violently as a sudden flash of lightening cracked close by, the entire building shaking with the impact. Her brother was missing. Her father sounded like a broken man and her step-mother was sobbing inconsolably.
"Oh Gods," she whimpered. "No…."
Without thinking, she gripped the iron lantern even tighter as she moved silently down the hallway. Placing her hand on the door to her bedroom, she thought better of it, moving instead into her study. Sarah set the lantern and the vodka on the desk as she rummaged through the bookshelves, sliding a small book with a threadbare red linen cover from amongst the stacks of books and printouts.
"Through dangers untold…" she muttered softly as her fingers ran absently over the faded gold embossed lettering on the cover.
Sarah picked up her favorite leather jacket where it had been flung into her comfy reading chair and tucked the book into the inner pocket, before putting the jacket on. Turning back to the desk, she opened the center drawer. Reaching inside Sarah slid her fingers along the underside of the desk, searching for the hidden lever. Letting out the breath she had been holding, she flipped the lever, hearing a wooden 'clunk' as the secret panel opened. Sarah knelt on the floor and crawled under the desk, taking the lantern with her. Holding the lantern up, she grasped the Celtic love-knot carving along the right side of the desk, twisting it counter-clockwise twice, then back once, shivering as a small drawer popped open next to the knot work. Carefully Sarah took out three small pouches and a small box wrapped in scarlet silk, before crawling back out from under the desk and shutting the secret drawer.
Laying the pouches on the desk, Sarah steeled herself. She opened the deep green pouch and pulled out an elaborately twisted, Celtic knot-work torc made of cold forged iron, and set with blessed amethysts and emeralds. It was far too heavy to wear for everyday, but somehow, something told Sarah that this was no ordinary day.
This isn't a gift for an ordinary girl who takes care of a screaming baby.
Sarah gave a quiet scream and turned around, her heart thundering in her ears. Breathing deep, she tried to calm herself.
'It is only in your head. He isn't here.' – she reassured herself.
Then why are you taking precautions as if you were going into battle with the Devil himself? – countered her inner-voice.
'In many ways, preparing to battle the Devil would be easier.' – she thought tersely.
Better the Devil you know….or so they say. – replied her inner-voice with some trepidation.
Returning to the desk, she poured three small ironwork amulets from the blue pouch, checking them each carefully before putting them back in the pouch and sliding the pouch into the front of her jeans, pulling her sweater out over the bulge to hide it. Opening the red pouch, she sighed as an ethereal white light poured from the dark depths of the bag. It was her last birthday present from her friends Underground, a perfect crystal, the size of a small plum. Ludo had given it to her the last time she saw him. He said he found it in some rubble that had been cleared out of the castle. When Sarah had peered into it, she saw the Room of Improbable Planes, where she made her leap of faith to save Toby. She wasn't sure what this crystal was, but she knew it contained pure magic and therefore, was valuable.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah placed a small amethyst crystal that had been a gift from a pagan friend into the red pouch. Reaching into her jeans pocket, Sarah fished out the one bit of cold iron she was never without, a small flat disk the size of a quarter. One side was carved with the image of a barn owl holding a crystal in its talons, the other was carved with an elaborate Celtic love-knot – a protection amulet.
Muttering a silent prayer, Sarah tied the cord of the red pouch, sealing the crystals and the amulet safely inside, before slipping the long cord over her neck and tucking the crystal neatly between her breasts, where no one would be the wiser to it's presence. As the pouch settled against her skin, she felt the tell-tale electric warmth against her breastbone. Yes. There was magic within it, and the longer she wore it, the more she felt it running through her veins.
Sarah then turned her attention to the silk wrapped box, what she thought of as her Fae fighting 'big guns'. Gently she untied the silk wrapping, her fingers caressing the carved wooden box, tracing the protective knot work, inlaid with ivory and mahogany, a gift from her grandmother who brought it over from Ireland. It was said that the box had been fairy made for her great-great-great grandmother and was powerful. Sarah hoped this was true. True or not, it held the items she prayed she would never need.
After her adventure in the Labyrinth, her fear of the Goblin King and what may happen got the better of her. Soon she started to research everything she could find out about the 'Fair folk', unfortunately, in the US, that proved to be a difficult task. So, Sarah constructed an elaborate lie, convincing her father she had been accepted to study in Wales for two summers as an exchange student. Amazingly enough, he bought it – both figuratively and literally. He believed the story and even footed the bill for her room and board overseas. In truth, she spent the summers speaking to anyone and everyone, from professors to pub-patrons, up and down Scotland, Wales and Ireland, cataloguing tales of the Fae, and in particular, how to thwart them and protect yourself from them. The results of her research were kept safely in her fairy box.
Sarah said a small prayer of protection as she opened the box, taking out a gun. Her mother insisted on buying her the small Walther PK380 when she moved out on her own, and forced her into regular shooting practice. Although she thought it was silly at the time, she became quite a good shot and after doing her research, she decided it was a potentially useful way of combating the Fae, if their aversion to cold iron was to be believed. Thanks to the emergence of para-military groups in the US, it didn't take much to find someone who was willing to create specialty bullets for her, bullets with cold iron tips, embedded and coated with blood ruby dust.
Time and again during her research overseas, she heard stories of how cold iron was a way to ward off the Fae. Some people even suggested that should the Fae be wounded with it, they would die an agonizing death by necrotic poisoning.
The blood rubies on the other hand, were an accidental find. They were first mentioned to her by a small Irishman in a tiny borough outside Donegal. She told him that she was planning a trek to Grianan of Aileach, a stone work ring and earthwork mound that legends said was an entrance to the land of fairy. The wizened old man patted her hand and begged her to come with him to his shop.
Something about him told her that she should trust him, so she followed him around the corner from the pub, to a jewelry shop – his jewelry shop. There he told her about the power of blood rubies, and gave her a selection of blood rubies that were too small to set into jewelry. According to legend, they were infused with the power of Danu and would protect the wearer from unscrupulous Fae trickery and magic. Other legends said that ground blood rubies, used to coat weapons acted as a quick acting poison for the Fae.
Sarah checked that her gun was loaded and slid two extra magazines of ammo into her jacket pockets.
Flipping up her shirt, Sarah strapped on her back holster before slipping the small gun into the clip at the small of her back, feeling oddly stronger with the reassuring weight as it pressed against her spine.
'Oh Gods…I hope I don't ever need this,' she thought.
Returning to the box, Sarah lifted out a small scrap of scarlet silk. Removing the silk, she lightly touched the jewelry within, slipping the earrings, ring and bracelet on as she remembered how they had become part of her collection.
Before leaving the jeweler's shop, Sarah bought an antique blood ruby necklace, set in what appeared to be a gold mount, that was actually gold-plated, cold iron, a necklace she had not taken off since the day she purchased it. Two years later she had been contacted by the old man's solicitor. He had been so taken with her when they spoke at the pub, that he left the rest of the blood rubies in his possession to her upon his death, seven grams of small blood rubies, as well as the earrings, ring and bracelet that completed bridal set of blood ruby jewelry.
Sarah leaned momentarily against the desk, looking at the door leading out of her study as she struggled to calm her breathing. The rain outside picked up, with the wind howling wildly around her building, making the windows shudder in their frames as the lightening flashed, lighting the room with bright strobe effects. Lifting the vodka bottle, she took a long swig, gasping as the liquid burned its way down, clearing her mind and steeling her nerves, before pulling the last three items from the box.
She pulled out a black leather envelope, carefully opening it on the desk. Her nimble fingers pulled out two cold iron anthames, each sharpened with a serrated blade on one side and a razor smooth blade on the other – something extremely difficult to accomplish with iron, but well worth the money she spent to find an ironsmith who could do it. Just like the bullets, each blade was embedded with a coarse layer of blood ruby dust. Sarah slid the anthames into the clips at her hips, allowing her sweater and the leather jacket to fall over them.
The final item in the box seemed the least useful, as it could only be used as a last line of defense, since if she needed to use it the enemy would close enough to kill her, but she refused to go down without getting in one last, and hopefully deadly blow. Sarah pulled out a pair of black, kangaroo leather gloves, a gift to herself when she visited Australia the year before. Smoothing them onto her slender hands, she nodded. Embedded in the tip of each index finger was a fine needle of cold iron, beaded roughly with the last of the blood ruby dust.
Standing, she looked into the mirror by the door and what she saw surprised her. The mirror reflected what her gran would have called a kelle, Celtic warrior woman, her long dark hair falling in careless waves over her shoulders, framing the pale ivory skin of her face, a faint rose tint naturally staining her cheeks. Deep emerald eyes stared back at her from the mirror, flickering with steely determination and defiance.
She was no longer some silly 15 year-old dreamer.
No.
She was now a force to be reckoned with.
Picking up the small leather backpack by the desk, she emptied the contents on the floor, before chucking the bottle of vodka into it. She dug through her desk drawers before adding several power bars, a bag of trail mix and her water bottle. Sarah slipped the bag over her shoulder and headed for the hallway.
'Forgive me Toby. I set this whole thing in motion and so help me, I will end it if it is the last thing I do,' she thought as she moved toward her bedroom.
Although her bedroom was only several feet away, it seemed like the longest walk of her life. Pausing with her hand on the doorknob to her bedroom, Sarah took a deep shuddering breath, her eyes fluttering shut as gathered her courage, afraid of what she would find inside and praying that should find nothing more than the remnants of her thesis.
Nothing…nothing tra-la-la.
Sarah gasped softly, unsure if that was a voice from her memory, her past or the room in front of her.
Letting out a long, wavering breath, Sarah gently opened the door to her room. A low moan escaping her lips at the sight that greeted her.
Sitting in the middle of her vanity was a perfectly clear crystal orb, its ethereal blue glow shimmering as its reflection bounced off her mirror. Laying next to the crystal was a white feather. Together they were a clear calling card.
He had been there.
He had invaded her space, despite her protections.
The Goblin King was back and trouble came with him.