AN: A Labyrinth take on the famous classic "Black Beauty" by Anna Sewell. Even if you have not read the book, you should still be able to follow the plot.

My early life was fair for a human servant, I suppose. I don't remember too much before the age of eight, so I cannot speak for anything before that. I can, however, clearly recall much else. Our lord was kind and compassionate, and never put us younger ones to the hard work of our mothers and fathers. If we ever did jobs, they were trivial, menial tasks such as helping feed the horses or chasing the faeries out of the castle gardens. We never wanted for anything, never went hungry, and were never cast out. It was a good home.

The other servant children were content to play docile games of tag or hide and seek, but whenever I accompanied my mother to the market and she sent me off to play, the games turned a bit wilder. The young boys there were most uncouth and unfriendly, and loathed the mere idea of playing with a girl. So whenever they saw me, they fell on me the moment my mother was out of sight. This game usually wound up being me fleeing through the market stalls, pursued by such vicious boys you might have thought they were a pack of hellhounds. Sometimes they would catch me and rough me up a bit, and other times, I was able to outlast them. I didn't mind it so much; they treated the other servant children the same way, and I usually escaped with nothing more than minor scratches.

One day, they caught me as my mother was coming around the corner, her arms laden with all kinds of kitchen foodstuffs. I went down under half a dozen flailing fists, but came up again just as quickly. My dress was torn, my hair wild, and blood was trickling down my face from a cut above my eyebrow. But they didn't look their best either; one's hand was bleeding where I had bitten it, and two others were already developing bruises on their big ugly faces from where my punches and kicks had landed.

They had been preparing to advance on me again, I could tell from the way their hands were raised and their teeth were bared, and I prepared to run again, but a well-aimed apple sailed through the air, and the next thing I knew, one of the boys was on his knees, clutching his nose. The fruit bounced to the ground and rolled away harmlessly as my mother stalked up, another apple clenched in her hand. The gang turned tail and fled while my mother grabbed my by the arm.

"My precious babe!" She cried softly as she took in my dirty face and torn clothes. "Did those bad boys hurt you? Is this where you've really been getting hurt?"

I had been telling my mother that we played in the woods to explain my cuts and ripped dresses. I knew if she got wind of our real play, she would put a stop to it and I would have to endure hours of being dragged behind her like a dog from one food stall to the next.

"Mama." I squirmed out of her grasp with difficulty. "It was just a game."

"Just a…?" For a moment, she looked relieved. But the next, her eyes grew hard. "Listen to me, Sarah. Have you not been brought up well? Have you not learned manners? Those boys are the sons of poor farmers and blacksmiths; they know nothing of manners. You will soon be a servant of the King, and wherever you go, others will look at you and make judgments of his court based on who serves him. Do you want to give them the impression that our kingdom is filled with wild, violent savages?"

I cast my eyes down and shook my head.

My mother nodded in an approving fashion and took my hand, leading me out of the market. The next time I went down with her, I kept close to her and tried to look regal, though it was painfully boring to spend the morning looking at food. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the gang following warily, circling as vultures do when they spot a carcass. I ignored them.

Another day found me with a flock of older girls, all in the late teenage years. We were by the clotheslines, removing the dry clothes from their pins before folding them neatly and placing them in the basket. I helped where I could, but I was still rather short, and couldn't reach most of the pins, so I mostly sat there while the older girls fondled my soft hands and braided my dark tresses; their own hands were calloused and worn, and their hair had a frayed, harried look to it. I enjoyed the attention, for their hands were gentle and their words kindly.

Whistling made us all look up; one of the young guards was leaning again the castle wall, and when he'd seen he had our attention, he winked at us. I didn't understand, but the other girls looked disgruntled and offended, and one even mimicked throwing the basket at him. Amused, the guard made what I would come to know later as a very rude gesture, and my girls curled their lips with disgust, turning their backs on him and going back to the clothes in a stony silence.

I went back to work with them the next day, and the same guarded was still there, snickering behind his hand at the disgusted glares he received. I only stole a few furtive glances, not wanting to get too involved, but interested all the same. A shocked yelp from the wall made us all jump, and we looked around in alarm.

The newcomer was royalty, that much was obvious by his proud, haughty features and fine clothing. He had the guard by the ear, and was shouting things into his face I will not repeat. When he let him go, the guard cowered and ran off as quickly as he could. The other man glided over to our little group, where we all automatically dropped in curtsies. He waved a hand in our direction in an almost disdainful fashion before continuing on. I bristled, stung; though he was above us in station, most other nobles took the time to smile or greet us with a polite "good morning, misses". He had barely given us a glance.

For once, it seemed I was the only one in a snit. The other girls cooed and giggled and blushed at they eyed his retreating back with admiration. While they chattered on about how handsome he had looked and how blond his hair was and all that other nonsense, I snatched a shirt off the line with unnecessary vice. All that I had seen was an arrogant boy.

That guard never bothered us again, and the next few years passed in relative quiet.

8888888888888888888888

The next incident happened when I was fourteen.

Now, my mother had always told me that even among the Seelie, those who were more compassionate towards the human race, there were some who would always believe that our place was dead and buried out of sight. Up until now, I had not believed her; aside from the rude noble who had told off the guard all those years ago, every other being I had met had been perfectly kind. I had no reason to distrust the fairer race.

That's when he came. I did not catch his name, but was present for his entrance into the great hall. He strutted forward with a smirk on his face and lounged on one of the benches beside the King's throne, even though my King had not given him leave to do so. I felt my eyes narrow and I frowned into the floor I was scrubbing. Beside me, helping me in my duty, was my younger brother Tobias.

Toby was a few years younger than me, and often very bored with his work. At eleven, he was still too young to properly control the horses at the stable, so he was often stuck with feeding them and brushing their coats. He was a very happy boy, the light of my mother's world (and mine, come to think about it), but I could sense his disappointment every night he came to dinner smelling faintly of hay, manure, and sweat. I knew he desperately wanted to ride, and didn't have the heart to tell him it would probably be several more years before anything like that would ever happen (though I had my own sneaking suspicions that he had already snuck out on a few rides himself).

"So," the dark-haired King said in the loud voice of those who want everyone to look at them. And we did. "No doubt you have heard of the hunt there is to be tonight?"

"I have." I relaxed at the sound of our King's more refined, polite tones.

"Then you will be coming along?" The way he spoke made it sound more like a command, and even Toby was starting to get irritated now.

"No one talks to the King like that," he breathed in my ear, and I nodded in complete agreement.

"I'm afraid that I have other commitments tonight that acquire my attention." His tones were cool, almost a reprimand of sorts. My brother and I smiled smugly at each other.

The other lord's voice took on a whine not unlike a petulant child's. "Come off it, Iyzoli, even Jareth is going to be in attendance…"

"My apologies. It is a non-negotiable matter." The finality with which he spoke left no room for argument, but the lord huffed irritably.

"Very well, then. Could you at least find the time to lend me a servant? I am afraid that mine has, ah, taken ill."

The hairs on my neck stood on end. His tone was scornful, with a slight air of humor, betraying no sense of worry for his servant's well-being. Could this be one of the ones my mother had warned me about all along?

Our King was quiet for a long while, and I bit my tongue before my pleas could have a chance to escape. Please, please don't let him take one of us. Toby, on the other hand, was quavering with excitement, stealing eager looks at the two beings at the opposite end of the room. Apparently, I was not the only one who noticed.

Mocking laughter ricocheted off the high walls. "You have a boy doing a woman's work?"

I most nearly jumped out of my skin, just barely grabbing the water bucket in time to keep it from tipping. Toby, already on pins and needs, leapt up to his feet with blazing eyes. The lord was striding toward us, the King close behind. At first glance, he looked wary, but his facial expression turned calm so quickly, I was sure it had just been my imagination.

"Young Tobias is always willing to help, regardless of the task," our King replied smoothly. My brother looked as if he would explode any moment from being the center of attention.

The lord took no notice of me as he surveyed my brother with a critical eye. Toby stood stock-still. "Small…light…quiet." The lord kept muttering to himself as he surveyed the young boy from his head to his toes. Then, he abruptly rounded on our King. "This boy will do Iyzoli."

I could tell that Toby was trying his best not to break out into a smile upon hearing this, but I myself was filled with dread as I stepped forward. "Please, sir, he does not even know how-"

My back connected with the floor before I realized what had happened. I lifted a shaking hand to my stinging cheek as the lord returned his own hand to his side, glowering down at me with disgust.

King Iyzoli snarled, a sound of which I had never before heard. "I will not allow you to come into my house and abuse my servants, Cavornon."

The lord snorted and turned smartly on his heel. "Perhaps, then, you should teach them proper manners." As he sauntered out of the room, he turned his head slightly. "Boy."

Toby jumped, his face ashen. "Yes, sir?"

"You will await me in the courtyard at dusk. Do not be late."

Tobias had been loath to leave my side as the hour grew nearer. My face still stung where Cavornon had struck, but I was more worried for Toby than for myself. I did not want him going anywhere with that malicious heathen, but what was I to do? Tell him he could not go, and have the lord tear up the castle in search of him? There was nothing that could be done; even her mother was resigned to that fact.

As dusk approached, I kissed his cheek affectionately as if kissing him goodnight. He was dressed in a rider's outfit; breeches, boots, and a riding vest and all. Everything was slightly too big for him, and that thought made my eyes sting with tears; the stables did not make riding clothes for boys under fifteen, let alone for an eleven year-old.

After the hunting party left, it was not long before the howling of hounds on the trail began. The sound made me feel slightly ill; somewhere out there, a poor creature was fleeing for his life, not being pursued for food or clothing, but for sport.

I sat awake in the gardens, feeling perfectly at-ease in the warm air of the summer. My mother I could tell was still uneasy, but she had retired a while ago. I did not begrudge her for it. Mother was one of the head servants, and had a lot more work to do than the rest of us. No doubt she was tired. I tried to tune out the sound of the baying, but, predictably, was unsuccessful.

The howls were sometimes close to the castle walls, and other times, it faded away. I guessed that the deer was old and clever, and kept leading his adversaries through the river, where the scent was easily lost. I liked the thought of the stag outsmarting the hounds and fleeing into the mountains. But as I was imagining a magnificent deer bounding up the cliffs, the howling suddenly stopped, and sadness made my shoulders slump. The hunt must have ended, then, for the dogs to quiet so quickly. That poor creature.

The sound of horse hooves galloping quickly against the earth reached my ears, and I rose to retreat into the castle, not wanting to be around when they dragged their prize in. But to my surprise, only one horse raced through the gate, and the lone figure that slid off the beast's back seemed to be carrying something in her arms, a body too small to be that of a deer. Panic swelling in my chest, I followed him as he swept into the castle.

8888888888888888888888

"His neck has broken," the healer said softly, his fingers resting lightly on my brother's throat. I was sitting on the floor of the infirmary, not caring how undignified I looked, my head resting in my hands. The one who had brought my brother in was standing quietly in the doorway with a hollow look in his eyes. Upon getting a good look at him, I had realized that he and the rude noble from the years gone by were one and the same, but I was too grief-stricken to be indignant about it now.

The healer spoke again in the same soft tones. "May I ask what happened?"

"Cavornon has always valued horses of quick and light step," the noble began. "So, naturally, he rides on his horse alone, and gives his weapons to his servant to carry so he does not weight his horse down. The hunt had been going rather well; the boy certainly handled his horse with surprising efficiency. But when we came upon the stag, he demanded the boy give him his bow, and the child, untrained, took too long to respond. By the time he had given Cavornon the bow, the stag had escaped, and Cavornon threw it at his stallion's feet. It frightened the horse. He reared back and the boy wasn't able to control him. He fell."

My hands were clenched in my hair so tightly it hurt. Part of me was wondering why the healer wasn't doing anything, why he wasn't helping my brother. But I knew. I knew it was because there was nothing that could be done.

The silence that had fallen over the room was broken when my mother suddenly burst in, pushing past the noble and falling over her son with a strangled sort of wail. "My son! My boy, what has happened to you?"

"My condolences."

I turned my head to stare numbly at the person crouched beside me. His mismatched eyes did not waver from mine, not even when a strand of his candy-floss blonde hair fell into them.

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.

"I am partly responsible. I should have told Cavornon to leave the child here." My mother's wails were piercing, but I could hear every word he spoke. "I would like for you to accepted this."

He was offering a small, translucent orb, no bigger than a pearl. It rolled to and fro on his gloved palm, giving off a faint glow. Knowing it would be rude to object, I plucked it from his hand.

"What is it?" asked I, wincing at how hoarse my voice was.

"My signature." He rose to his feet. "Should you ever need help in darkened times."

I placed it within the folds of my dress to appease him. I would never use it. I turned to watch my mother sob over Toby's body.

And couldn't help but think…t'was all for a silly sport.

Please review.