He looks sad.

There he is, standing before her, after all she's been through, and he can't even muster a smile? That is decidedly unlike him, she realises, and that knowledge bites with a twinge of fear.

He looks desperate.

If all his behaviour thus far has indeed been, as he claims, out of love, then maybe she doesn't want to know what desperation will drive him to.

He takes another step, and suddenly he's close enough that she can see in his eyes a kind of melancholy she knows all too well.

So this is his final trick, then.

No more magic baubles and floating ballrooms, now he's appealing to her soul, trying to convince her that just as she lives and breathes he is as lonely and vulnerable as she is.

If only she could believe that.

"Give me the child."

He seems to bristle at that command; something in the back of her mind tells her that he doesn't like to be told what to do.

And that's all this farce has been, hasn't it? A game of control.

"Sarah, beware. I have been generous, up until now. I can be cruel."

He's advancing closer and closer, watching her with those tired eyes as though he thinks she's going to do something irrational. The threat in his words isn't lost on her, but his warning still ignites anger. She shouldn't take the bait he's offering, but somehow she can't stop herself.

"Generous? What have you done that's generous?"

There's no malice, no sting in her words, but her anger is only barely disguised and he isn't fooled, not for one second.

"Everything! Everything that you wanted I have done. You asked that the child be taken: I took him. You cowered before me: I was frightening. I have re-ordered time, I have turned the world upside down and I have done it all for you. I am exhausted from living up to your expectations. Isn't that generous?"

There's something startling about his outburst, as he circles her, and it occurs to her that she's been here before. A part of her aches at his words, too eager to believe that he's telling the truth, but another part of her knows exactly what he's doing. She's read this scene many times before.

"Through dangers unknown, and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here - to the castle beyond the Goblin City - to take back the child that you have stolen."

She's advancing towards him now, pushing him backwards. Their struggle for power has made them both do terrible things, but she knows without a doubt that this is right, this is how she beats him-

"Stop!"

Of course he wouldn't let her win - not this easily, anyway.

"Wait. Look, Sarah, look what I'm offering you - your dreams."

Once again, there is a crystal in his hand. He must truly be desperate, if he thinks such petty tricks will still work on her.

"For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great."

He can't slow her now, she knows her move, her final line, this will be the end of it-

"I ask for so little- just let me rule you, and you can have everything you want."

And like that, she falters. What was that next line? What was she going to say? He can see her hesitation, the change in her demeanour, and he pounces.

"Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave."

That seed of doubt has once again sprouted, and suddenly her thoughts are clouded, her determination gone. Oh, god. He does love her, doesn't he?

But what is his love? Fear, loneliness, control?

He can offer her a life of magic, whimsy excitement, everything she's ever dreamed of, but at what cost?

She cares for him more than she'd like to admit, as she realises how badly her refusal would hurt him.

But can she sacrifice her freedom just to live as a victim to his whims? To always be under his control?

His control...

But, if he can control her already, why does he need her to...

Oh, no.

The realisation washes over her-

"You have no power over me."

She sees the moment his heart shatters, and wishes hers wouldn't do the same. Then the clock chimes, and she is falling, falling once again, and the labyrinth is no more.

She should have realised, all along, that she chose to play his game, that he never had the power to make her play it.

But just for a moment, she wonders if he could have made her stay if he'd really wanted to, or if he let her choose out of his own twisted compassion. She'd like to think it was the latter. If he cared about her less, he would have made her stay.

His love was never really in question, anyway.

Maybe one day he'll understand why she couldn't choose him. She hopes that, on that day, he'll realise that she did love him back - she just loved her freedom a little bit more.

After all, forever is a very long time.