Really, she should have known she'd see him again. How could she not? There was too much there.

And it was that cold night, shivering so much her teeth and her bones chattered together as one, that he appeared in her life once more.

Pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, sweet, sixteen-year-old Sarah Williams let out a deep, sobbing breath. Through her clothes - a nice pair of velvety stockings and a beautiful dress she'd saved up for with her own money - the frozen park bench seeped wetly into her skin. The outfit was special; she'd picked it out three whole weeks ago and hung it carefully up on the back of her closet door, dreamily gazing at it day in and night out, waiting for that special day that inched so slowly closer. The day of sixteen. Where she'd become sassy, sexy, and savvy. That's what the magazines and the girls at school said, anyway. But that wasn't why she'd been so excited for her next birthday (though the promise of such a glamorous year to come didn't exactly hurt).

She'd bought the dress especially, having seen it in the window display of one of the small boutiques in town. The deep violet of it had caught her eye and she'd frozen still on the sidewalk, hands coming up to touch the glass as she peered inside at the price tag. It was the color... it reminded her of the costume Linda Williams, her mother, had worn in her play two years ago.

And that costume was special to Sarah because she'd never seen her mother perform before that play. And she'd seen it so completely, with her young eyes wide and mouth agape at the vision of beauty and charm on the stage, her mother's dark hair shining and green eyes striking against the resplendent fabric of her satin violet gown. It had left quite the impression. Even Linda could see that.

It was in her dressing room after the show, the beautiful costume hanging from a hook in the wall, that her mom had smiled indulgently into her vanity mirror and said, "Go on, try it on."

Sarah's eyes had gone wide and she'd wiped her sweating palms on her tights, staring as her mother worked on undoing her hair from its elaborate style. "What?"

"The dress, silly," Linda teased, pulling a pin out of her hair and letting it fall over her shoulders, "You know you want to. Go on. I'll help."

In front of the full-sized mirror, Sarah gazed at her own reflection. Her pale skin, bathed in the golden light of the dressing room, pitted against the dark dress just like it had on the star of the stage. At fourteen, it didn't fit as well on her as it did her mother, fabric bagging around her chest and the hem falling a little too far past her ankles, but it didn't matter to Sarah, because she had never felt so beautiful.

Linda peered over her shoulder with a casual smile. It was hard not to see the resemblance. "Lovely, darling."

At that, tears sprung up into her eyes. A lump in her throat. She spun quickly around and thrown her arms around her mother, the side of her face pressed to Linda's chest, close enough to hear her heartbeat.

"Thank you so much for getting Dad to let me come, this was so amazing, I never ever ever want to leave," Sarah whispered, voice wobbly, just there on the verge of crying. Then Linda lifted her arms to pat Sarah twice on the back before taking a step away, and returning to the vanity.

"Of course," she said, waving a lazy, well-manicured hand. "Now let's get this thing off of you, we should head back to the apartment soon. You have an early flight, and your father will kill me if you miss it."

Sarah had frowned but nodded, no stranger to the irritation flickering in the tips of her fingers at the thought of her father and his new wife back in Connecticut. No matter how much both her and her mom wanted her to stay, her father would never have allowed it.

And that was what she told herself for the rest of that night, as she sat a little lonely at the bar counter in Linda's apartment, listening as she and Jeremy and her other friends who were "just stopping by" spoke about this and that and nothing at all. And it was what she told herself when it was Jeremy who woke her up bright and early the next morning and fixed her breakfast and waited with her for Linda to get ready to bring her to the airport. And it's what she'd told herself as she boarded the plane, something strange and tight about the feeling of her heart, after having turned back to wave goodbye to her mother one last time, but finding her too busy smiling importantly at some young girl who stared up in awe at Linda Williams, hands reverently holding out a scrap of paper and a red-colored pencil.

And it was what she told herself every day after that that she didn't see her mom. Linda Williams was a very busy woman, is what she'd been told over and over and over. But that was exactly why her sweet sixteen was so special. Why it was so perfectly exciting! Mom was going to be there! Coming all the way from Los Angeles and her movie in progress just to see her, on her day! It was enough to make her stomach sick with the giddiness of it.

On the frozen bench, Sarah let out another gasping sob, her entire body shaking - from what exactly, she didn't know.

She'd woken up so happy that morning, jittery with the joy of finally seeing her mom, the elusive Linda Williams, after so long. Two whole years, it'd been. Bouncing through the house and smiling at a bemused Karen and eagerly pestering her father about the party preparations, she could barely even wait another minute for her mother to arrive. The plan, which Sarah had thought of so much that it was almost a movie in her mind, was that Linda would land at the airport in the early afternoon, leaving enough time for her to get to the house and hang out with Sarah - and she had so many things to show her, like her newly decorated room, and her adorable little brother who she loved so much even if she hadn't always, and the pictures her dad had taken of her in the school play she'd been in only a month ago, and, and, and - all before the guests of the party began showing up.

But as the day grew older and the afternoon passed and her mother still hadn't arrived at the house - she'd insisted on getting a rental car from the airport, politely but firmly refusing to be picked up by her ex-husband or his new wife - Sarah had grown anxious. When evening came, the guests, a mix of close friends and family, arrived with no sight of Linda. But still, she'd held onto hope. There had to be an explanation. Her flight probably was delayed and she'd be there in the next thirty minutes! But those thirty minutes passed. And the next thirty minutes. And the next. No Linda Williams.

And though Sarah could be foolish and hopeful and naive, she wasn't stupid. She had seen the tightness in her father's eyes and pursing of Karen's lips and she'd noticed that no call had come in, not even from Linda's agent who would have contacted them if there was an emergency.

The cake came out near the end of the party when it had grown so dark outside that looking out a window felt like looking out into a void. It was shaped like a fairy tale cottage and it must have been commissioned by her father especially for her, but Sarah was dim and empty, unable to muster up the energy to appreciate it. Her father carried it out with one of those parent smiles, hiding a frown with an all-too-big grin.

"Make a wish!" her dad exclaimed as everyone cheered at the end of the birthday song and she looked down at the single candle - a wax number '16' set into the flat part of the cottage cake roof - and thought to herself: I wish mom wanted me, because she knew, she knew deep down that Linda didn't and she never had.

When the guests had left, she'd curled up on the corner of the sofa, feeling sick with too much cake as Karen and her dad picked up after the mess. She'd stared solemnly at her lap, a wetness building up in her eyes.

"Honey-" her dad said, approaching her with a frown, but the phone rang and so he swung the dish towel he was holding over one shoulder and crossed the room to pick up the receiver.

"Linda," he said coldly and Sarah perked up from her spot and wiped her eyes. Her father listened for a moment and murmured something before gesturing for Sarah. She got up and he handed her the phone.

"Mom?" she asked hesitantly, looking down at her feet. She felt like a child, with her father's hand on her shoulder, hovering, and dressed all up in clothes like her mom's even though she was only a kid; a stupid, stupid little girl.

"Happy Birthday, darling," Linda said and Sarah could imagine her smile, all woman and all grace.

"Where are you?" she asked, and to her horror, it came out like a whine.

"Where am I? Well, New York of course."

Sarah frowned, her eyes stinging, "New York?" She heard her father let out a forceful breath, his hand tightening on her shoulder. There was this knot in her throat that wouldn't go away no matter how many times she swallowed.

"Yes, do keep up, sweetie. I'm appearing on Letterman tomorrow, so I had to fly in today."

"But you were supposed to be here today, for my party. It's my birthday."

"I know, but it couldn't be helped. Mommy's sorry, but I'll stop by Saturday and we can go shopping. I'm not so far from where you're at. How about that, hmm?"

Her hand shook so terribly, she was surprised she hadn't dropped the phone.

"No," she whispered.

"No?" Linda said, sounding confused, "Darling, what-"

"No!" Sarah screamed into the receiver, "Don't bother, I never want to see you ever again! Just forget about me, I know you want to!"

She let out a sob and slammed the phone down into the base and brushed off her father as he tried to slow her. Karen watched with wide eyes from the kitchen entrance as Sarah made a bee-line for the front door, dragged it open with all her might and ran outside into the cold November night, tears turning icy cold and burning against her cheeks. Stumbling blindly, her feet had carried her through the neighborhood under the glow of the streetlights to the nearby park, her favorite place, where she'd collapsed onto the wooden park bench and just cried into her arms.

And that was how she'd gotten there, sitting alone and sad in the park, crying and wishing. There was this utter mortification. Not from being seen by others, but from being seen by herself. It was unbearable.

Trembling, she almost didn't notice. There was a crack, the sound made from branches snapping underfoot, and Sarah tensed, realizing now it had been dumb to run out into the night by herself. What if there were wild animals? Wild men? She peeked through her fingers toward the sound. Nothing. She sighed and wiped away the tears still leaking from her eyes. She stared at her lap, face blooming hot. How could she be so stupid to think her mom would even bother with her? Hadn't she made it clear already?

There was no room for daughters in the glamorous life of Linda Williams.

Another crack. Sarah twitched, face flying up from her hands. She peered at the treeline across from her.

She felt him before she saw him, the crackling of magic in the air, familiar and yet, alien. It danced along her skin, a warm sparkling up her spine. Sarah looked to her right.

A soft gasp escaped her.

It was him.

She scrubbed at her eyes, but he was still there when she opened them again, inexplicably sitting there beside her, his gaze set on the treeline in front of them. The Goblin King.

He glanced at her sideways and the corner of his mouth tilted, and she thought maybe he was a little bit amused because she'd just scrunched her eyes shut again and blinked at him dumbly when she saw he was still there. She almost couldn't believe it. But there he was, as real and striking as she remembered, one arm bent over the back of the bench and the other hovering, his gloved fingers pressed to his lips, contemplating. Contemplating what? She was gaping, she realized. But how could she not? His legs were crossed and he was so close that she could see exactly the line of his nose and the colors of his eyes. On that grotty bench, on that frigid night, and under the harsh glow of the street lamps, somehow he was still so alluring to her. He always had been, ever since she first saw him. She doubted she could have hallucinated him; never would she have been able to recreate his image no matter how much she tried.

Her eyes tracked back up to his face and she flushed a hot red. He was watching her. Amused now, for sure. Suddenly, she became aware of her own appearance. What must she look like to him? Blotchy red skin and watery eyes, underdressed in the cold night. Like a child throwing a tantrum. She felt unpleasantly hot even as the icy wind bit at her skin. She looked away and tried to quickly wipe at her eyes.

"Sarah," he said and she peeked back over to him. His voice was deep and sure. "Are you well?"

That wasn't what she expected. In truth, she doesn't know what she'd expected - in truth, there hadn't been anything to expect since she'd never thought she'd actually see him again. But, as it's been established, that was rather foolish of her.

He raised an eyebrow. He'd turned toward her slightly, and she noticed that she had turned toward him too.

"Yes," she stammered, "-no, I mean, yeah. I'm fine." She gathered her courage, but could only manage a whisper, "What… what are you doing here?"

She watched as his index finger, gloved - always gloved - in black leather, ran along his upper lip, dipping into the curve of his cupid's bow and then out of it. "A wish was made, and I was obliged to answer."

Her brow furrowed. "A wish? But I didn't make a-" she paused, and then that knot in her throat formed again. If that was true, then he'd heard a very personal thing.

"I didn't- I wasn't." How eloquent she was, jesus. "I mean- I didn't know. I didn't say the words..."

"Not all wishes must be spoken to be heard," he said, his strange eyes fixed on her own. They weren't threatening. She didn't know what they were.

He leaned forward a little and dropped his hands to his lap. "Even so," he said quietly, "It is not one I am capable of granting. "

She looked quickly down, swallowing against the stone in her throat. She blinked fast and frantic, panicking at the thought of the Goblin King seeing her cry. She heard him say her name, but blood pounded drum-like in her ears. She let out an embarrassing noise, a muffled gasping cry, like a honk. And she burned in shame as the tears came, sweeping what remained of her dignity away. She turned away and brought her knees up to bury her face in, hiding away as best she could, quivering with the effort to rein it all back in.

It's not like she'd really thought her stupid birthday wish would work. She hadn't even considered that anyone, much less the freaking Goblin King, would hear it. But now that it was stated outright - your mother will never love you, she'll never want you - her heart shattered. All that was left were the million pieces of it, scattered all around her.

Sarah wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, her face hidden in her limbs, her body shaking with the force of the hurt. He must've been gone by now. Was she relieved by that or not? She couldn't tell. She sniffled miserably and risked a peek to her right.

There he was, and he hadn't moved a bit. "Sorry," she muttered, feeling more humiliated than she ever had before, and accidentally caught his eyes.

His forehead was creased, an indiscernible expression on his face. She almost wanted to laugh - ladies and gentlemen, The Goblin King, vanquished once and for all by the tears of a teenage girl - but instead she sobbed.

"Sorry," she said again, voice wobbling, blushing something furious, sniffling, smearing the tears on her face with the sleeves of her dress, "I don't know what's wrong with me."

He didn't say anything, even though she half expected him to laugh at her. Childish child whining for her mommy. God, how she must look to him. Then he held out a hand, fingers all rolling into an upward point. She'd seen that before. Without realizing it, she jerked back a little. She blinked and there was a… gift?

It was a box, wrapped in a shimmering white paper and held closed with a twine ribbon. He offered it to her, an intent look upon his face. Hesitantly, eyes set on watching him, she took it. She held it in both hands and looked down at it. Then, she looked back at him.

He nodded and she bit her lip. Holding the gift in one cold-reddened hand, she plucked at the twine with the other. Slowly, she unravelled it, glancing up at him every few seconds, feeling a blush begin to stain her cheeks. When finally it was open, she held the gift in her hand, and she smiled down at it. It was a blank book with soft, pulpy paper and engraved leather covers. She flicked through the pages and she traced her fingers over the edges and she pulled at the green satiny ribbon that swung from page to page.

"For wishes," his voice said. She could hear a smile. "Write them here and they will be only for you."

Her eyes watered and she sighed dreamily, holding the book up to her chest as if it were a precious treasure - and it was, she knew that already - and beamed at the man right next to her. "Oh, I love it. Thank you so much."

"It is my pleasure," he caught her eyes and time seemed to still, "Sarah." Her lips parted and she stared.

He stood then, slowly unravelling. Graceful, he held a hand out to her, and she took it, allowing him to help her stand too.

His lips were quirked again. "Until next time, my dear." He leaned in slowly and her breath caught in her throat. His lips made a touch to her forehead, a soft, gentle thing. A sweet kiss. Her eyes flickered shut, breathing in the scent of him, unsure if this was real. When she opened them again, he was gone. The book and the wrapping paper remained.

There was a giddy smile and a soft, chiming laugh as this girl of sixteen twirled and beamed and felt precious at last.

. . .

Thank you for reading! If you have the time, I'd absolutely love to hear what you thought! 3

Also, my other Labyrinth stories that can't be posted on this site due to their ratings can be found on ao3 at crownjrose (rosesnblueberries). So check those out if you're interested! Thanks again :D