Welcome to another episode of "Freya fell into a new fandom!" (only new in the sense of writing in this universe; I grew up with Labyrinth ;) )

I was inspired to venture into this fandom by the amazing A Forfeit of Dreams by KL_Morgan on Ao3. 3 chapters in, I got bit by a plunny, grabbed a pen & what was supposed to be a 1-2 paragraph summary turned into 8 pages.

(funny note: I look out for this neighborhood cat & thought "I'll put her in the story," I was at ch. 7 of AFD. I get to the final chapter & there's a place called The Grey Cat. Neighborhood cat is also grey [pic at the end of ch.1])

I've also since (since being about 2 hours ago as of writing this A/N) become aware of Anam Cara by kellyn1604 (on FFN & Ao3). I only read to the middle of the third chapter, as while I was enjoying the story, I didn't want to run any risks of unintentional absorption. I'll be returning to it when BtLoDS is at [or close to] completion. What similarity exists in our stories is sheer coincidence (besides sharing a few key points in their openings, our fics are completely separate entities) & I encourage you to check out her work.

Source materials: Labyrinth film (1986 [in some cases, this will include things from earlier versions of the script]) |-| Jim Henson's Labyrinth: the Novelization (overseen by Jim Henson) |-| Jim Henson's Labyrinth Bestiary (A Definitive Guide to the Creatures of the Goblin King's Realm) |-| the Labyrinth wiki page. I don't acknowledge Return to Labyrinth (it exists, you can't make me accept it as canon), despite that some of the wiki page info draws from it (like stepmom being Irene).

SARAH'S AGE: In the Novelization she's 15, in the film she's 16; we'll follow the film since that came first, making her 26 in this fic.

CONTENT WARNING: Whether I keep with the film's tone (some mature themes, nothing overtly sexual [ignoring Jareth's too-tight pants]) or reflect the natural change of certain dynamics over time depends on how the writing goes. SO: (1) the possibility of smut (2) definite violence, (3) character deaths undecided but unlikely, (4) Definite nightmarish imagery (5) (contingent upon if the story ends up containing smut) slow burn.

DISCLAIMERS: I don't own Labyrinth, or any affiliated characters/concepts, & make no profit from this story in any form. |-| While the concept of nightmare worlds appear in works by other authors, The Nightmare Realms, as they appear in this story are of my own design.

There are no differences in the chapter content between FFN & Ao3. The only difference in the postings is that on A03 I'm able to include images, so from time to time I'll be sharing snapshots of source material, inspirations, or other fandom/story nonsense (if you want to go poking about over there to see, you can find me under Freya_Ishtar [that underscore is important!]).

EXPANDED SUMMARY:

10 years have passed since Sarah's trip through the Labyrinth; she's (almost) living the life of her dreams, the friends she made there are frequent (if secret) visitors, and though she's not encountered Jareth since that day that now seems so long ago, the Goblin King is never far from her thoughts (not that she'd ever admit it).

When her friends ask her to help their mysteriously vanished (and possibly just as mysteriously dying) king, she's more than a little confused—she'd have thought they'd be thrilled to have him gone. Until they share a reality of their world she never knew:

Jareth is all that stands between them and the far darker things that used to rule their realm. Ancient creatures so terrifying humans made themselves forget they ever even existed.

She's, of course, ignoring entirely that there's any personal stake in her running back to their world to help. It's not like she cares about saving the Goblin King for bewildering and unnamable reasons of her own, or anything.

CHAPTER I

AN ORDINARY MIRROR

~1996~

Sarah rubbed absently at her forehead with her free hand as she held the flipped-open script in the other, her teeth worrying at her lower lip. A mild gust of wind curling through the streets made her grateful she'd had the foresight to tie back her hair before she'd left the theater, or she'd be fighting to keep the long, dark locks from whipping across her face and obscuring her vision just now.

Though she preferred it loose, she really thought she could do without another incident of nearly stumbling into oncoming traffic because a strong breeze had caused her to be blinded by her own hair.

The entire length of the train ride home she'd contemplated, read the opening lines again and again, visualized herself beneath the heat of the stage lights, in the heavy but beautiful costumes—the part called for so many costume changes!

Visualized the audience on their feet as she took her curtain call. Standing ovation. Her parents—all of them, Mom and Jeremy, Dad and Irene—and Toby looking on proudly from the front row.

Her heart raced with the mere notion of it. The opportunity! It wasn't only possible, it was what she'd dreamed of happening, and yet ….

Roughly snapping the script closed with a flick of her wrist, she sighed, focusing on the short walk from the station to her building, instead.

Or at least trying to.

An abrupt caw drew her attention and she lifted her gaze to the sky. That sounded like a crow, but … not. Something had been strange in that sound just now.

Without being overly dramatic, she couldn't help thinking there felt to be something unnatural about it. What was that?

Though the call had been distinct—as though she should've glimpsed the bird directly overhead when she'd looked up—she didn't see anything, nor did any further cawing follow to give her a direction where it might've gone. It must've been something else, she told herself, something that simply sounded like what she thought it was.

Yes, that could explain why the sound felt wrong. Even without an answer, however, her eyes remained on the sky a moment longer.

Silent, angry grey clouds roiled overhead. Strange. She could've sworn the forecast on the radio this morning called for mild weather for the next two days. Maybe that was the source of this feeling in the pit of her stomach, different from the rushing ripple of anxious energy that only faded slowly, lingering for a time after an audition. But that anxious ripple was her friend. It tempered her occasional overconfidence, allowing her room to connect with the role.

This was instead a fluttery, uneven sensation that made her think something must be wrong—or at least not entirely right, and she knew well those were two very different things.

Giving herself a shake, she turned her attention to minding the traffic lights as she crossed the street. She couldn't deny she'd developed an intuition after her … experience, and that sixth sense had never failed her. Telling her when she should be on her guard, or when—

Green eyes widening, her mouth fell open a little. "Oh!" She'd been so distracted she wasn't thinking clearly! Her intuition of course told her when bad things might happen, but it also kicked off, alerting her when one very particular good thing happened.

Smiling brightly, she stuffed the script into her bag and jogged the last half-block. Yet as she was about to start up the wide stone steps to the front door, she halted, resulting in a funny sort of swiveling skip as she held her foot in the air instead of placing it down and turned to face the alley wrapping the building.

She really was scatterbrained today, wasn't she? That wasn't much like her; she was pretty sure she had evidenced herself to be rather task-oriented and determined.

Holding in what would've been a mildly self-deprecating laugh, she darted a look around. Mr. Hayes couldn't stop her, but as her landlord he could cause her problems, being in charge of her living space, and all—and he certainly could be a bastard about the poor creature and call animal control. Satisfied no one was paying her any mind, she briskly wound her way along the alley.

The empty lot behind the still-charming, once-posh brownstone was quiet. But then, she'd expected it would be.

Extracting the one item that would change that from her bag, she crinkled the bridge of her nose, making for a slightly mischievous expression as she shook the small plastic container. Originally it had held some not-great minestrone soup from a local deli, but this seemed much better use for it.

The response was instantaneous. The sound of a tin can rolling echoed through the lot, and then, with an adorable purring chirp, a small, lithe grey form leapt onto the lid of the nearby dumpster. Thank God Mr. Hayes insisted on keeping the thing closed or she couldn't imagine how she'd stay back here long enough to do this every evening.

True she had smelled far worse, but that had been unavoidable.

"Hi, sweetie," Sarah murmured as she stepped closer, lifting the top from the container as she moved closer. "Hope you didn't think I forgot about you! Things just ran a bit longer today that I expected."

Despite the feline's interest in the meal Sarah poured out before her, the cat bumped her head against the back of the woman's hand, demanding affection.

Unable to help a wide grin, Sarah gladly scratched between those pointed ears and along the sleek neck. This was their nightly ritual. Ever since she started feeding the literal alley cat—the adorable little beast was so quick to run and hide from anyone else—they'd developed something of a bond. A bond, a ritual, that included the ever-important step of the cat receiving scritches before eating her food.

"There you go, October," Sarah said softly—so named for the month they'd first crossed paths—marveling as she always did over how smooth the cat's coat was. She didn't understand how a homeless cat had such neat-seeming fur, but then she didn't know very much about cats—she'd only ever had her dog Merlin, and she missed that shaggy beast deeply. Maybe cats had some capacity for keeping themselves groomed even in dire circumstances.

October, for her part, appeared perfectly aware that the human wasn't able to spend much time with her, thereby making it imperative that eating, which could take place after the human had walked away, wait until after petting. But then Sarah thought she could definitely be reading too much into the behavior.

Maybe the cat was just lonely and sought attention when she knew she could from the one person she didn't run and hide from.

Her eyes drifting close, Sarah let out a sigh. That … that didn't sound like herself at all, did it?

Shaking her head, she opened her eyes and forced a smile. Time she get inside. "All right, sweetie." She took a moment to haphazardly replace the lid on the soup container and shoved it back into her knapsack. "You eat up. See you tomorrow."

As she swiveled on her heel to start back through the lot to the alley and the front of her building beyond, she didn't notice the container hadn't closed properly. Didn't realize pieces were shaking loose to fall through the hole she wasn't aware of in the bottom of her bag.

Leaving a trail of kitty kibble in her wake.

Not until the front door was closing behind her and she heard a panicked feline cry.

Whirling around, Sarah found October pinned lightly between the jamb and the door. "Oh, no!" She threw the door wide and scooped the poor thing into her arms. "I'm so sorry! You okay?"

Though feeling rushed now that she was doing something very much against the landlord's policy about animals in the building, Sarah gave the cat a quick once-over. October wasn't fighting or fussing, didn't react meanly to any tentative touches.

Exhaling a noisy sound of relief—it was a small comfort that this building didn't have a doorman for her to explain herself to—Sarah tried to steady nerves that had frayed in a heartbeat. But …. She met the cat's pale green eyes with her own. The little upside-down triangle of a nose strained toward her face, sniffing close to Sarah's nose and mouth before pulling back again and blinking up at her.

Sarah's heart melted. She couldn't simply toss the cat back outside after it'd nearly been crushed by the door! Surely there was nothing wrong with simply … bringing October upstairs long enough to give the cat a more thorough look, just to see if she perhaps needed to bring her to a vet before returning her to her 'home' in the lot.

Curious suddenly to discover why the cat had followed her in the first place—had someone scared it? Was it in danger?—Sarah peeked back outside, looking around.

There on the ground were a few pieces of cat food. Realizing what must've happened, she shot a leg through the doorway and kicked the pieces away before closing the door again. Carefully holding the cat in one arm, she cupped a hand beneath the bottom of her bag.

Aha! Finding the hole, she improvised, stuffing a bit of her blouse's unnecessary length into the torn fabric to plug it up for the time being. She didn't need any more errant pieces spilling out and giving Mr. Hayes reason to investigate.

Yes, she thought, getting back on track with her plan, just a few minutes, that was all it'd be!

Even reasoning with herself, Sarah's gaze fell unerringly on the landlord's door across the way as she tucked the creature into her arms. Careful not to trip over her own two feet despite her compromised attention, she rushed up to her second-floor apartment.

Yet unlocking her door and racing across the threshold, closing the door securely behind her before setting the cat gently on the floor at her feet, there was still no reprieve for Sarah's temporary loss of composure. The moment she had the security bolt wedged into place, her phone rang.

A startled yelp tearing out of her at the immediacy of the shrill sound, Sarah snapped her head around, staring daggers at the offending object for a few seconds before she managed to unstick her feet from the floor. It was a wonder she hadn't jumped out of her skin!

She was made of tougher stuff than this, she reprimanded herself as she crossed the living room and collapsed onto her sofa beside the phone on the end table. She'd blame it on the quivering in her stomach that hadn't yet left her.

Lifting the receiver from the cradle, she set it to her ear. "Hello?" she began politely, fighting the sore temptation to let her sudden exasperation leak into her tone.

"Sarah, sweetie?" Linda Williams voice came through the other end of the line. "You were supposed to call me as soon as you got home from your audition. I was starting to get worried."

Eyeing October as the cat began a cautious exploration of her new, alien surroundings, Sarah noted that the cat didn't seem to be moving as if it was injured at all. "I'm sorry, Mom. They wanted me to stay behind a bit after my reading."

"Oh? Good news, I hope?"

Her mother had known Sarah wanted the spotlight, wanted to be centerstage and the singular focus of the audience's attention …. But she also knew her daughter played it safe when it came to which parts she was willing to audition for—more comfortable in going for supporting roles, something she knew she could get. A more reliable way to keep her bills paid, the younger Williams insisted, rather than risking blowing a shot entirely by throwing herself at the lead and only to rub a director who might not appreciate overenthusiasm the wrong way.

Beyond that, Linda recognized there was something else there. Some little voice in her daughter that, for all her strength and dramatic flair, said don't look at me. As though the young woman didn't want people to see her even as she performed her heart out under a wash of bright lights for their entertainment.

Pressing the receiver between her chin and her shoulder, Sarah pulled her knapsack into her lap—tugging her shirt out of the bottom in the process. "Well, actually … I didn't audition for it, but they … they offered me the lead," she said, unwittingly confirming her mother's observation.

In the position she'd just stuck herself, Sarah had no protection for it when her typically refined mother let loose a high-pitched squeak of pure, exhilarated delight.

Sarah laughed even as she cringed. "Mom, my ears!" Reaching into the bag, she once more retrieved the container of food, opening it and setting it on the floor. October immediately forgot her own curiosities and came running for the offering of crunchy morsels.

Well, guess I have a cat now.

"You're not going to take it, are you?" There was no accusation in her mother's voice, just a sort of mildly disappointed resignation.

"I honestly don't know. They want me to give it serious consideration before making a decision." Of course they did, a lead role was a lot of responsibility and despite her background—her mother being the Linda Williams—and a few years of solid stage experience under her belt, she needed to be the one certain she was ready for it. "But the part's mine if I want it."

There was silence for moment, both equally aware that that was the real question.

A muffled sound came from the direction of her bedroom, reminding Sarah rather immediately of her earlier realization. Her mother was saying something—probably another attempt at encouragement despite a sense that her words would fall upon deaf ears—but Sarah barely heard her.

It could be her friends in there, as she suspected. But then, it could also be ….

Her heart thumped in her chest and she shook her head. That was silly, it was never him. Why would she even think it could be?

Stupid. Ten years and still she worried. Expected. Wondered ….

"Mom? I'm sorry, I have to go. Landlord's at the door," she tacked on, preempting any guesses her mother might wager that Sarah was simply trying to shut down the conversation. "Talk soon, love you." The parting words fell from her lips mechanically before she cradled the receiver and stood.

"Hello?" she called out, trying to tell herself she wasn't a little concerned that she might be wrong.

"'Bout time!"

That immediate tension flooded out of her just as fast and she nearly dropped back onto the sofa at the sound of Hoggle's eternally cranky voice. The grizzled dwarf barreled his way through her bedroom door and stepped out into the living room, Sir Didymus close at his heels.

"You traveled through the mirror before I got home?" It was obviously a stupid question, since there they stood and she hadn't set foot in her room—she'd taken her old vanity table when she'd moved out of Dad and Irene's house. Its mirror was perfectly ordinary at a glance, but was in reality a vital contact point for her friends due to how strongly connected it was to her childhood memories—but it was something they'd never done before.

They usually waited until she came in and saw them awaiting her on the other side of the glass before entering.

"We apologize for such an intrusion, of course," Didymus said with a gracious half-bow, "but this is not a social visit, My Lady."

Her brow furrowing, she ignored the sensation of her heart dropping into her stomach. Not a social visit? She dreaded to consider what serious matter this could possibly be about.

A hissing sound reminded Sarah of her other unexpected guest and she looked to the floor by her feet to find October, back scrunching up as she eyed Didymus warily. Sighing, Sarah decided to also ignore the cat's irritation with the creature she probably perceived as a predator for the moment.

She knew October was perfectly safe, even if October didn't. Maybe she should just be grateful Ludo hadn't popped in with them this time around, she couldn't imagine what the cat's reaction to the intimidatingly sized, albeit gentle and lovable, mound of fur and horns and pointy teeth would be.

"What's wrong?"

"Maybe we oughta sit down?" Hoggle suggested with an awkward shrug.

She didn't like the sound of that; she liked when Hoggle was acting squirrelly even less. "Oh, um, all right." With a nod, she gestured toward the dining room table, set against the wall that separated the living room area from the modest kitchen.

Sarah watched them as they—Hoggle in his meager yet lumbering gait, and Sir Didymus with his quick, light steps—crossed the room to each claim a chair. She wondered vaguely, despite being aware this wasn't the time for idle curiosity, if Sir Didymus' trusty stead Ambrosius was still around. Certainly the residents of the dream realm seemed unchanging, but she didn't know if that circumstance was the same for their pets. Ambrosius was a direct reflection of Merlin, and so she couldn't help wondering if that might mean—

No, she wouldn't think that, and she wasn't about to ask. She was pretty sure he'd have shared that with her if it had happened. And if it had but it wasn't something he felt up to sharing, she wouldn't force him, either.

Sarah approached the table on cautious footfalls. She couldn't unsee the worried expressions marring her friends' features.

Swallowing past a sick feeling of apprehension, she took a seat between them. "Okay, so what's—?"

"Jareth's dying."

Didymus' one visible eye widened as he looked at Hoggle, nearly as shocked as Sarah for how he spit out the words entirely without preamble. Obviously there'd been a plan in place on how to break the news and spilling it out like yanking off a Band-Aid had not been it.

Aside from her shock, however, Sarah also felt something she never imagined she would at such news. Despite her utter awareness that she had no idea, even now, what she felt about or toward him, words like grief and loss weren't profound enough to do the sudden sensation rocking through her justice.

The Goblin King was dying.

And her heart was—very irrationally, she knew—breaking at the very idea of it.