Let's have some fun, eh?

Hocktide is a real thing, though I'm mixing up a bit of the details to fit the situation. Also, I thought this was going to be a oneshot but it's demanding a slightly longer path. So let's see where we end up…

Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth or the characters. To be honest I don't even know that much about the Tudor era, I just want to play in the sandbox a bit. You know how plot bunnies are.

It had not rained on Easter, so Sarah assumed it would be immediately rainy for Hocktide if April was to be totally predictable. Truly it summed up her feelings about the unusual holiday, but she put a brave face on lest her stepmother suspect further willfulness and set her to some task that would upset her lungs unduly. Working with the wool sometimes caused fits of sneezing so acute she had trouble breathing for the better part of an hour. Spinning was her least favorite activity for the same reason. Sarah knew what people said behind her back… elf touched… but she could no more stop the fits of breathlessness than change the seasons so she paid them no mind. She didn't need their pity and she had long ago learned how to cope with their apprehension.

Rubbing her fingers over the chain that ended in an iron cross between her breasts, Sarah wondered if this year she would be abducted or not. Eligible men and women frequently were, especially when they came from wealthy families, but the mock kidnappings were only sport for the younger set and at nineteen people had begun to talk about her unmarried state. With her kind of wealth, and being rather pretty besides, it was unseemly to wait so long unless there was something wrong with her. Her union should have been growing her father's textile wealth, but more often than not she was sitting at home trying to convince her hellion of a brother to sit still long enough to do his letters. Toby was going to be less literate than the average woman at this rate, and his tutor was sick with worry over dismissal to the point of actually getting ill today. Meanwhile, Toby was running wild around the neighborhood. You never had to ask Toby twice to go outside and run; whatever weakness of the lungs Sarah had Toby seemed to have been spared.

"Sarah!" Red faced, Toby practically tumbled into her skirts all sincerity, skinned knees, and blond curls. "Will you hide? I saw Will Baker and Edward Black!" At six years old, he had more energy than she imagined anyone could possibly have. Hocktide alarmed him last year because he thought it was real and that the men had taken Sarah for good. As the day had approached this year he had become visibly agitated. That this was just a silly fundraising tactic for the parish was not as visceral as seeing grown men haul his struggling sister away last time.

"I suppose you have a spot picked out for me?" Sarah, who had been practicing her dulcimer, put down the instrument and gave Toby a wan smile. The dark clouds in the sky told her she should pack up and go into the house anyway, but any time she could avoid Karen was well spent.

Toby was pulling at her hand, trying to get her to move faster, but the combined weight of Sarah and her wide emerald green dress made her a challenging prospect to budge. "I know where they'll never find you!"

With a sigh, Sarah allowed them to move forward a few steps. "I can't fit under your bed, Toby."

Immediately the pulling stopped and Toby gave her a furious look over his shoulder, like it was her fault for being so large. "You want to be taken again, don't you! What if they don't give you back?"

And her step-mother accused Sarah of being temperamental! Toby was just a hair away from a tantrum, even if it was born of good intentions. "Toby, calm down. No one is taking me anywhere."

"You said that last year! You're a liar!"

The calm Sarah had been trying to maintain snapped as the weight of her worry and the complex feelings about being taken or overlooked this year manifested into a sneering tone. "Maybe I want to be kidnapped! It would be better than being here!"

"You're a liar and I hope I never see you again! I wish… I wish the fairies would take you away! Right now!" His lip was quivering and he seemed like he was going to burst into tears, but at the last minute he pulled himself together and gave her a nasty hand gesture he certainly did not learn at home. Sarah, who had been about to yell back, saw the gesture and tried to gasp and laugh at the same time which disoriented her momentarily.

Toby took off running towards the house and Sarah, who didn't exactly feel contrite but certainly didn't want things to end on that note, found that her yelling and gasping had been quite enough to agitate her lungs and the coughing fit overtook her. It was always harder on her in spring, for whatever reason. This time it was particularly bad, and black dots swam over her eyes as she silently prayed to God that today was not her last moment on this earth. It felt like there was not enough air in the world as Sarah clutched at her tight corseting. Before the blackness came crowding in on her, Sarah noted that it was beginning to rain. Once her dress got wet it would be a lot more difficult to stand up in, especially if she was laid out in the garden thusly.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a man lithely jump down from the edge of the garden wall, dressed in gold and black. Sarah at least had the satisfaction of knowing that she was to be abducted after all. Not an old maid yet! She also realized Toby had been right, she had lied all along even if unknowingly. Closing her eyes once more, it would be anywhere from a few minutes to an hour before she woke up again. The local men would let no harm come to her, and she hoped whatever they used to bind her would not chafe this time around. Her father had taken long enough to cough up the money last year that she had had red marks for days on her wrists.

It had been many months since Sarah had had an attack that left her unconscious so when she awoke, the disorientation was remarkable. Putting together the pieces before her blackout, she was relieved to note she was dry and warm. A cheerful fire crackled in the hearth nearby, and spilled light onto a beautiful tapestry. Her hands weren't even bound, which was a relief. Last time the oldest Baker boy had threatened not to let her go without a kiss, as sometimes it was the price of release to tease pretty girls, but she had frostily informed him she would wait for her ransom or judgment day before she allowed it. He had been perfectly content to let her sit bound the rest of the afternoon, and Sarah had stubbornly tolerated it.

Come to think of it, it was probably comments like that that made her all but unmarriageable in this parish. Sarah wasn't about to be a shrinking violet in the face of coercion. Something in her heart had always told her to wait for the extraordinary… perhaps someone extraordinary… before she showed even a hint of sentimentality. Her mother had taught her that before she was a faint dark haired memory. Now the word 'mother' more easily conjured up a blond woman with a pinched face and ready criticism on her lips, and Sarah stifled her anger at the stray thought.

"The princess awakes, I see."

She hated that name. The village boys would taunt her with it when her father came into sudden wealth after years of merely being comfortable, and the already reserved Sarah suddenly had all the clothes and jewels befitting her new station. It was a name borne of jealousy, but Sarah held up her head proudly and owned it instead of letting it destroy her. That gulf between her and the other children her age had never been bridged. "I prefer Sarah, if you please."

"As the lady insists."

The rain pelted down outside the window, hitting the glass loudly, and Sarah blinked into the light of the fire to try to make out more details of the man in the room. This wasn't Will, or Edward, or even John from the village, nor was the room filled with laughter and people's siblings running around as every year they gathered together to gossip and write the ransoms while having a snack. This room was more somber than jolly, and no one else was in it. The wrongness of it all struck her first, but Sarah was made of sterner stuff than to start blubbering without asking questions.

Running her fingers absently over the rich green fabric of her dress, she felt every crease and bump and wondered what predicament she was actually in. "I don't believe we are acquainted, sir. Do you live nearby to my family?"

"Closer than you'd suspect thought the distance can feel incalculable." Moving into the light Sarah noticed right away how foreign he looked, not that his skin was a different tone from hers or the color and texture of his hair beyond what she had known locals to possess, but the very otherness of him assaulted her senses. His clothes looked too sumptuous, his hair a little too long and too wild, and those oddly colored eyes of his were so disconcerting that the mere presence of this man gave her a chill. As she did when she felt nervous, she clutched at the chain of her iron cross only to find it conspicuously absent.

"Before my kidnapping I don't suppose you spied a necklace near me in the garden? I seem to have misplaced it."

"You also seem to be more alarmed by the loss of your necklace than by your kidnapping, or the presence of a stranger." He seemed amused, and he crossed the room to pull up a chair near the couch she had been placed on. Closer inspection merely revealed a cruelly handsome face that seemed perpetually on the verge of a smirk. Sarah wasn't sure she liked this person, but she admitted to herself that at least he was more interesting than many men she had encountered previously with their bland platitudes and her father's money a gleam in their eye.

"It is of little value to others, but it was a gift from my mother so I prize it rather highly. Did you see it, sir?"

"Your lady mother doesn't seem like the kind of woman who would allow something of so little value to grace your neck." Upon mentioning her neck he gave her a glance that was oddly considering, and his eyes lingered on her collarbone a moment before meeting Sarah's eyes. He was probably thinking of Karen, who loved to display the Williams' wealth in every possible fashion. That iron cross had been a barrier between them for many years, both as a memory of the woman that came before and because it did nothing to display Sarah's value to suitors.

"My step-mother," Sarah put careful emphasis on the word, "Has many ideas about how I should dress and act that do not align with my own." He had not answered her question, she noted, and instead was diverting her attention. Something was off about this whole situation, still.

Unable to look him in his odd colored eyes, Sarah instead focused on the light of the fire and noted numbly that there was no wood making it burn. The more she squinted at it the more certain she became that there were not even ashes present.

This is for your protection, her mother Linda has said, the fey cannot stand the touch of iron and I mean to see you safe my little one. It had been magical at the time, a gift from her lovely but distant mother who she so rarely heard from with her lilting accent and tinkling laugh. Linda's dark hair and eyes had marked her, and by extension Sarah, in a community that never easily accepted difference. As she grew the idea of fairies seemed clearly ridiculous, but the memory of her mother was precious. Running her fingers through her loose dark hair, Sarah tried to think of a logical explanation for the fire.

"You did not take me for Hocktide, did you sir?" Sarah's voice was quiet but he was so close there was no way he would have missed it.

"I only take what is offered, lady." There was mischief in his tone, and a hint of laughter. Sarah did not want to risk yelling and upsetting her lungs but her anger burned in her with a hint of fear.

Sitting up properly and edging away from the man, she dared to look him in the eyes again and was struck by how handsome a villain he was. God should have marked him with sores or boils to keep people from being confounded before he had a chance for evil.

"I demand you return me home at once. If it's money you're after my father can pay, but I wouldn't set the price too high. An old maid of a daughter isn't worth much to anyone." Her pride burned to say the words out loud, but there was enough truth there to sound convincing.

"My dear, you misunderstand entirely." The man stood and wandered over to the fire where, as she watched, he stoked it and made it jump as blue flame flowed from the tips of his right hand. "You've been freely granted to me by your own blood. You're in no position to demand much of anything."

It was too much. Magic was not real, if it were real then where was magic when her mother fell from the horse and broke her neck? Where was magic when Karen came to live with them mere months later? There was no magic as Sarah waited for a suitable man to take her from the Williams household. Food still had to be prepared and endless accounts and questions from the staff to be answered.

"Witchcraft…" Sarah hissed under her breath as she watched the man examine the tapestry and then her once more.

"I think you'll find my power comes from neither your god nor your devil. There's more in the world than you can possibly imagine." He gestured to the window and for the first time Sarah turned, rose from the couch, and truly looked through the window and past the pelting rain.

Nowhere in England could this place exist. What seemed like miles and miles of some sort of maze twisted and turned in every direction she strained to see. Inside of it were small wooded areas, and houses dotted open spots, but it went as far as she could strain and probably farther besides in golden stone that seemed dark yellow where it was wet. The sun appeared to be setting, but it looked huge and orange in the sky and not like the friendly yellow orb she was used to at home.

"Where am I…?" There was wonder in her voice, but also a deep trepidation.

"You are at the center of my kingdom. Rather impressive if I do say so. Quite a bit more secure than the paltry moats I see in your English castles, but then you've never had to fight off true threats before." His voice was lilting, and Sarah was so distracted by the scene before her that she didn't even notice he was behind her until she felt his breath move the hair near her ear. "I assure you, my lady, you're quite safe in these walls."

The blush that warmed her cheeks and the shock that stiffened her spine and sent uncomfortable tingles through her limbs told her clearly that she was not safe at all in the presence of this man. She did not expect any harm to come to her bodily, but as she knew there were fates worse than death for unattended women in the company of unscrupulous men.

"Someone will come for me. My father will not allow this outrage!"

The man seemed to be getting tired of her outbursts because his stimulating presence faded and she turned to find him lazing in a chair with his feet propped up on the couch she had been sitting on a moment ago. A globe of what seemed to be glass was spinning at his fingertips, but he spared her some of his attention while Sarah fumed now that he was no longer looming and confusing her. No man had ever inspired such contradictory emotions in her and she did not appreciate the chaos.

"You can complain all you like, and it seems you do like to complain, but you have been wished away with no champion to represent you so I'm afraid you'll simply have to accept your circumstances."

"But… it simply isn't fair!" And it wasn't! Errant angry words spoken by a six-year-old boy should not place her future in the hands of some nefarious stranger who she was coming to suspect might not even be human (if that even seemed reasonable for a person to think)! Stomping her foot down, in her soft embroidered slipper shoes, served no purpose other than to make her foot smart and cause a flutter in her chest. Now was not the time to have another attack, so Sarah tried to take calming if shallow breaths.

The only advantage to having been isolated for most of her life meant Sarah was very comfortable inside her own head. Right now she needed to find her advantage. Assuming this man was, oh God preserve her sanity, a fairy—then nothing was decided yet. Their games and riddles were not without loopholes. He was pretending nonchalance but darting movement gave away that he was monitoring her while rotating more glass orbs through his long gloved fingers.

He had mentioned a champion, but who could she call on? Her father was not too old or weak, but he was similarly not strong willed and he had grown soft with success. No, her father would not do. If Karen loved her more, she would have been a fine champion in her own way, but she was not a wise choice. More likely Karen would take this opportunity to be rid of her than anything. Toby was too young. The house staff and the villagers all thought her odd already, and even if someone responded to her plight out of pity and against all odds won her freedom then Sarah would be tainted by witchcraft her whole life. Sometimes, she thought, you need to create your own fate.

"I will be my own champion." Leaning her hands back on the windowsill to support her weight as she felt her knees shake a bit, Sarah tried to project confidence.

The man laughed once, merrily, then his face clouded as she continued to stare him down. "You can't be serious."

"I'm as serious as I have ever been, sir. What is my task?"

The glass orbs popped like soap bubbles in his hand and Sarah blinked away her surprise at the casual magic. He looked much less relaxed and something akin to angry as he approached her this time. "So pretty and soft, the Labyrinth will eat you alive and what prize would I claim for my trouble?"

He was attempting to intimidate her with his nearness, her frantic brain supplied. The man loomed above her, placing his hand on the wall near her head and crowding her against the window. Sarah's resolve had given her strength, but the closer he got the more details she found herself picking up on: how that could only be real gold and silver thread shot through in the fashionable black clothes he wore, and how slim he was yet how he also managed to fill the room, but most of all that if he bowed his head just that much more their lips might touch…

They use seduction, like a waterhorse trying to trick a woman into disgrace! A lifetime of caution and aloofness allowed her to shield herself in time.

"I will run your little maze, and I will win." Breathlessness not like the kind she was usually afflicted with made her words weak but her eyes remained hard and locked to his. Perhaps this was all a dream. Perhaps she was still laying in her garden and being soaked by the rain.

"Never forget that you chose this, my lady." He withdraw and clapped his hands once, going indistinct and reappearing dressed all in white and looking more wild and more inhuman in a cloak of creamy feathers.

"You don't scare me." She said it without a quiver in tone but they both knew it was a lie.

He snuffed the fire out with a wave of his hand, signaling their departure. "You'll find it's 'you don't scare me, Your Majesty'."

Sarah's world spun.