A/N - Written for the labyfic Winterfest on LJ. Feedback is greatly appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth, any of the canon characters, settings or concepts. No money was made in the writing of this ficlet.
Summary: "This is the night of the Midwinter Fires. Thousands of years before your birth, I saw you."
Winter Fires
It was close on midnight, less than ten minutes before the clock signalled the end of Christmas day. Candles guttered in their sockets, the light flickering dimly over her, curled up asleep on the couch. A half-empty bottle of wine sat on the floor, a glass tipped over beside it; outside, carollers strolled up and down the street, their interwoven harmonies chasing Sarah down into her dreams.
As always, when the darkness lifted, she stood on a great, windswept plain, the night sky above her blazing with the light of unfamiliar stars. Jareth crouched nearby, warming his hands at a tiny camp fire.
"What is this place?" she asked, walking over to join him.
"I am unforgivably late," he said, rising to hand her a glass of mulled wine. "We had our own midwinter communion to celebrate. It was – tiring."
She took a sip. It was heavily spiced, fragrant and rich; it warmed her right to her toes. "Cinnamon and nutmeg, ginger – what else do you put in this? Never mind that," she said hastily, because she had no wish to divert the conversation. "Jareth – why do you always bring me here first?"
He looked away. "There is something I wish to show you. Something that sustained me for long centuries."
The endless sea of silver-green grass was grey and colourless in the moonlight. In the distance, she could see a dark, mirror-like expanse of water; a great glass lake reflecting the vaulted sky. It was silent, beautiful, and utterly lonely.
"Do you trust me, Sarah?" Jareth asked.
"Always," she replied.
The dream shifted around her.
Arm in arm, dressed in matching royal blue and silver, Jareth and Sarah strolled through a woodland winter fantasy. Tiny snowflake fairies danced around them, refracting the light; fixed balls of steadily-glowing mage-lights illuminated the path. Up ahead, she could hear drums pounding out a primal rhythm, and the skirling ululations of flutes and pipes. The music was infectious, and began to work on her; her feet tapped and twitched of their own volition, her body began to sway and bend.
"Jareth," she gasped, grabbing his arm tightly. "The music –"
He twisted his wrist, flashed an iridescent crystal that transformed instantly into glittering gold and silver dust. His eyes laughing and mischievous, he blew gently, sending the cloud of dust directly into her face.
Coughing, cursing, Sarah tried to wave the dust away –
She sneezed.
But the compulsive urge to dance was gone, and the music had lost its spell.
Grinning, Jareth drew her closer and led her towards a break in the trees. "Look, Sarah," he breathed into her ear. "See."
The winter forest gave way to a bonfire burning in a vast clearing, the firelight throwing leaping shadows over the neighbouring trees, their branches stripped winter-bare and heaped with snow. Lit by fire-, moon- and star-light, the Lords and Ladies danced, dressed in silks and velvets and satins, embellished with twigs and leaves, feathers, antlers and skins. Spurred on by the bonfire, by the pounding rhythm of the drums, they bent and twisted and leaped, shadows making them seem both more and less than what they were.
Her eyes were drawn to one particular figure, white hair a beacon in the confusion. His face was disguised by a macabre mask of feather and thorn, but she would know him anywhere – and so, it seemed, would he recognise her, because he felt her gaze and turned to face her –
"This is the night of the Midwinter Fires," Jareth breathed, beside her. "Thousands of years before your birth, I saw you."
She tore her eyes away from Jareth's younger self with a jolt. Turned to Jareth beside her, his strange Otherness highlighted by the flickering light. His alien eyes were fixed on her with almost painful intensity, and she was not – quite – comfortable with what she saw there.
"Jareth," Sarah whispered, "don't make me into something I'm not."
He smiled, a little sadly. "What I feel for you is beyond your control, Sarah. As is what he –" Jareth indicated his younger self, still staring fixedly, "– sees in you tonight, to take with him into the grim future."
"But he doesn't see me," she protested.
"Ah. But I do. And he will." And he drew her into the dance, guiding her through the swift, complicated steps. She went with him, laughing and flushed; they danced, and danced, and danced, while the snow fell around them, and the drums and flutes sounded.