Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth, or Jareth, or Sarah, but then I guess you already knew that.

A/N: This is my first attempt at Labyrinth fanfic. I've been writing another story featuring Jareth and Sarah, but it's becoming really long, so I wanted to work on something shorter as a bit of a side project. All comments/reviews/feedback greatly appreciated.

The Advent Of Magic

Age 16: Old Lessons Revisited

At 16 the magic was born through irritation… and Sarah revisited an old lesson...

A year had passed, one whole year, and he hadn't returned to her. Sarah had completed the challenge, without hesitation, but remained so convinced it wouldn't be the end, even as she spoke her denial of the Goblin King aloud. She believed their story remained unfinished.

Would I have made the same choice, knowing that it truly was the end? she wondered, then regretted such self-indulgence. Of course I would; Toby is my brother.

Afterwards, when her friends from the labyrinth appeared in her mirror, assuring they would always be there for her, she automatically assumed he would be too - he was their king, and he had offered such temptations. She recalled all too well the guileless girl-child who had declared that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with her.

For all that had changed, Sarah was stronger and wiser, but she was still that girl at heart. She couldn't fathom what she had imagined would occur, or what she expected of the Goblin King, but it irritated her that she was easily resisted, and that he remained so impassive.

She had travelled so far within the labyrinth, and known such adventure, yet in her daily reality so little had altered. When her father and Karen went out, she often found herself babysitting Toby. They always offered to make alternative arrangements if she had plans of her own - if you want to have a date, Karen routinely said. On these occasions, the irritation stung deeply and she longed for the escape of the labyrinth. She loved Toby, and aimed to fill their hours together with carefree, happy enjoyment, but the underlying implication that she should date irked her.

You can't blame them; they don't know all that happened in the labyrinth Sarah reminded herself.

They departed early that particular day, promising not to be late home. Toby watched Sarah, who paced before her mirror restlessly. He gurgled merrily, and offered her a beaming smile.

It was a gloomy afternoon; a storm threatened, illuminating the horizon in an impressive, violent display. The atmosphere half tempted Sarah to regress to her younger self - she hadn't discarded all her costumes, and besides, Toby could dress up too; it would be fun. They would make believe together. A great storm would provide the perfect backdrop for all manner of adventures.

And so she sought out familiar garments from an old chest in her room. She found a red and white striped hat (Toby could wear that - he would be a pirate), and a long gown: she would play the damsel in distress, awaiting a handsome rescuer.

Except I can't play that role any more, even in make believe. HE saw to that, or maybe it was me? I'm changed, and I can't go back.

Far better to be the hero of your own story, Sarah mused, as it was increasingly apparent that expecting anyone else to fill the role simply wasn't the way things were done.

Sarah glanced up as Toby let out a delighted scream. Her curiosity quickly turned to distraught horror as she beheld his latest handiwork. She felt sick to her stomach as she saw the stubby vivid green crayon in his chubby hand, and the red-covered book lying discarded on the floor.

No! Where did he even find that book, when I searched so hard and couldn't?

She grabbed it quickly, flicking with increasing fury through the last pages, now daubed with green and yellow wiggly lines and rough versions of the sun.

He's ruined the very end of the story - the real end, she thought. This, alongside the continued stubborn denial and silence from her labyrinth friends, and the perpetual insistence that it would be good for her to date, made Sarah mad.

"Oh, Toby" she yelled, forgetting her new-found maturity as childish temper took over.

It's not fair! She thought, casting the book onto her bed in despair.

Toby looked stunned, not understanding why Sarah didn't like his colouring. He'd been especially careful whilst drawing the sun…

And then everything started to shake. Sarah looked on with an unflinching gaze as picture frames vibrated on the wall, and several figurines danced towards the edge of the shelf, cascading down, hitting the floor, smashing into tiny fragments.

Toby started to wail, and Sarah's trance-like state broke quickly, her overriding instinct one of love and protection.

What on earth is happening? she thought, moving swiftly across the room to the frightened child.

She took him in her arms as her mirror cracked and shattered, shielding him from danger.

He quietened immediately, reaching out with pudgy fingers to pull a strand of her dark hair, all fear forgotten. His huge eyes filled with love for her.

It ended as quickly as it began. All was still, all was quiet. The only proof of the disturbance was the mess of broken glass and porcelain that littered the floor.

Compelled by some deep instinct Sarah, carrying Toby in her arms, moved into another room, wondering… Unsurprisingly, nothing was disturbed at all. Not a single item sat out of place. Everything beyond Sarah's room was untouched by the strange occurrence.

Toby patted her arm and pointed towards her room, eager to resume their play, but Sarah, overcome by guilt and disbelief at her own childishness, didn't want to look upon those shattered fragments again just yet.

It's almost as if that happened to remind me what I believed I'd learned already…

The thought was unwelcome, and not at all comforting. Less comforting still was the nagging idea that somehow she herself had instigated it.
Sarah resolved to put the incident completely from her mind, for she didn't like the implications. She headed downstairs with Toby and out into the open air of the garden. The storm had never arrived and the late evening sunlight would chase away the darkness. A gentle breeze swirled in the trees overhead, almost like eerie whispers from another world, foretelling of great change ahead.