Author's Notes and Epilogue

Herein you will find the bigger and more identifiable chunks of meat that got ground up into this sausage. Nothing comes from nothing; I put in every tasty thing I could find to make this story work. Included in this epilogue chapter are a series of annotated citations of books, films, and music that helped me write this story. Following this not-nearly-complete list are a series of promised shout-outs and thank-yous to my beta readers, Nyllewell and Frances Osgood, and to a few of you canny readers who engaged in lively correspondence with me in the process of writing.

You will also find an epilogue at the end of these notes with a brief excerpt of a sequel to this story. "Labyrinth: The Nephilim." Publication of the sequel will begin in June 2014. For those of you not so interested in seeing how the sausage gets made, feel free to scroll on down to the end for your tasty appetizer.

"Labyrinth: Kingdom Come": An Incomplete Bibliography

Labyrinth Fanfiction
"The Enticement" by Scattered Logic
I owe the biggest debt of gratitude for "Kingdom Come" to other writers in the genre. I stand on the shoulders of these 'Dubious Ladies and Gentlemen.' "The Enticement" is pretty much canonical for any writer in the Labyrinth genre. This story showed me what I needed to do to make Jareth an interesting, living, breathing character with his own life and his own desires. Scattered Logic did it first.

"The Lady and the Knight" by Jack Hawksmoor
Another one of the classics in the Labyrinth genre, "The Lady and the Knight" is pure genius. The action sequences and the high stakes of the story alone make it worth the read, but Jack Hawksmoor did more. This story told me what I needed to do to make Sarah relevant and real and dangerous. And Jack Hawksmoor did it first.

"Shattered" by TarnishedArmor
This story isn't as famous in the genre, perhaps because it doesn't adhere directly to the conventions of most Sarah-returns-to-the-Labyrinth fanfiction. But it does things that I feel Labyrinth stories should do more often, to wit: Sarah pursues Jareth, not the other way around; sexual relationships are in play, not delayed; the Labyrinth and its inhabitants are something Sarah experiences, not observes. TarnishedArmor set out the parameters and elements of the kind of story I wanted to tell in a Labyrinth sequel. In "Shattered," Sarah returns to the Labyrinth with the goal of wooing and winning Jareth. To do that, she must make a rightful claim to queenship over the Labyrinth by completing various quests within it. TarnishedArmor did it first.

Music
Hours… David Bowie
All of the soundtrack items I've listed in chapters of this story help give the story its particular shape. But this David Bowie album is something special. This story was inspired by Hours… in the same way that "Exile from the Labyrinth" was inspired by 1. Outside. This album helped me remember the major themes of this story: introspection, avoidance of heavy nostalgia, longing, and solace.

The Downward Spiral: Nine Inch Nails
If you've never had the pleasure of listening to this album, get it, turn off the lights, set your strobe to "seizure" and enjoy. It's rough and angry but also strangely harmonious. It's audible sexual frustration and inchoate anger. When I was trying to suss out some of the more negative emotions of the characters, this album helped me deliver.

Movies
Fright Night (1985)
The original is still the best. A vampire moves into the 'burbs and wreaks havoc with the social life of the one teenaged kid who knows the score. The scary tango shared between Sarah and the Lord of the Revels is pretty much directly lifted from the dance-club seduction/abduction scene in this film.

Labyrinth (1986)
When I was in the planning stages of this story, I was absolutely determined that my story would be a close fit with the narrative of the film. "Kingdom Come" is essentially what Labyrinth looks like if you overlaid a reverse of the film atop the original. I wanted to hit major character types and progressively explore different "precincts" of the Labyrinth in a way that is faithful to the pacing of the film. And like all fanfiction writers, I've cribbed some lines from the film. In addition, if you've never watched the documentary "Inside the Labyrinth" or watched the film with Brian Froud's commentary, you're missing out. Froud's commentary is precise and loving, and enriches the source material greatly with his canny and creative insight into the setting and the characters.

The original script for this movie, as well as A.C.H. Smith's novelization (both of which can be found online) were also very helpful in constructing Jareth's character in this story.

The Last Unicorn (1982)
"Creatures of Night, Brought to Light." This 1982 animated film is less pop-culture-mixed than the original Peter S. Beagle's novel, but the best dialog is still there (some of which dear Finnvah references). The Last Unicorn is the story of a young person's quest to find others of her kind. Along the way, she undergoes painful transformations, learns lessons, and becomes a hero. A really brilliant treatment of the Heroic Monomyth.

Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
Another Heroic Monomyth story, this film is about a young girl who is both a fairy princess and the stepdaughter of a sadistic army captain during the Spanish Civil War. Visually and spiritually vibrant, but the film's most important contribution to this story and my personal fan-canon for Labyrinth is the idea that the Labyrinth is simultaneously an in-between space, a doorway to the Beyond, and a sacred perimeter for great personal trial. It's a geographic location and a metaphysical experience.

Television
Sherlock (2010-2014)
My conception of John Company's voice and demeanor is lifted directly from Andrew Scott's brilliant portrayal of Jim Moriarty in the BBC's reimagining of Sherlock Holmes stories. In addition, thanks to performers like Benedict Cumberbatch, Danny Pudi (Abed, Community) and Jim Parsons (Sheldon Cooper, Big Bang Theory), there are a multitude of resources for writers trying to define a not-quite-human "weirdo" character like Jareth in "Kingdom Come," an alien outsider who is still sympathetic and even endearing, although emotionally uncertain and strange. My version of Jareth owes a little something to the creators of these characters.

Doctor Who (1963-)
I'll just mention this since some people insist I made Doctor Who references in this story… I haven't watched the show in years. All references are therefore accidental and unintentional, but I'm glad if there's a connection. I like the Doctor, though I'll always be a Tom Baker girl. Give me all the scarf you have.

Fiction
Night's Master and Delirium's Master: Tanith Lee
Long before Neil Gaiman released his modern mythological magnum opus The Sandman, Tanith Lee was working in the sci-fi, fantasy, and horror genres. In these books, Lee identifies certain beings who both create and embody certain powerful forces at work on humanity. Night's Master is about Azhrarn, the beautiful-is-a-shallow-word-for-his-beauty Lord of Wickedness, who delights in sending dreams and desires and torments to humanity, his plaything. Delirium's Master describes Chuz, Lord of Madness, who causes Wickedness to fall in inappropriate love with the human embodiment of light and goodness. When these two lovers travel together, Azhirarn is a black eagle, and his lady is a silver feather on his breast. I took that imagery directly for the final scene of chapter 24. In addition, Lee's prose makes filthy beautiful love to the English language in a way incomparable to anyone but Angela Carter. Reading Lee's work while working on portions of this story infected my own prose style, inflating it to purple heights of magnificence. How I love her. How completely.

The Perilous Gard: Elizabeth Marie Pope
This 1974 Newberry Honor book tells the story of a teenage girl at the court of Princess Elizabeth, sent into exile at a strange and forbidding castle where it is rumored the fairies still exist. She is abducted by those fairies, who plan to sacrifice her boyfriend to their ancient gods at the Teind. A fantastic read, concepts of fairy forms of worship and culture were influenced by this book.

The Sandman: Neil Gaiman
The importance of Gaiman's work in reviving and remixing fairy tales, legends, mythologies, folklores in a modern setting cannot be overstated. While I don't see myself as a disciple of Gaiman, I think I like to do the same things. However, The Sandman is listed here for its particular contribution to my story. There is a line during "The Wake," vol. 10 of the series, where William Shakespeare asks the King of Dreams why he was commissioned to write The Tempest. The Sandman replies, sadly, that he wants Prospero to escape because he himself will never leave his 'island,' his kingdom of dreams. This line broke my heart. Gaiman's characterization of the King of Dreams—his longings, his entrapment, his duties and responsibilities—helped me shape the nature of Jareth's despair and give reasons for his decisions to do what he does over the course of this story.

"Tam-Lin": #39, The Child Ballads
The original, and yet-unbeaten first story of the Teind in pop culture. Found as early as the 1500s, this Scottish ballad is the story of a fairy knight who is rescued from death and hell by his pregnant mortal lover. Child collected quite a number of variants on the ballad, and a few of those are referenced in this story.

Academia and Folklore Schizophrenia
Discipline and Punish: Michel Foucault
My historian friends make fun of my fondness for this incredibly complex and potentially unreadable book, but it's not meant to be a history of events. The book describes the development of the institution (the barracks, the hospital, the prison, the mental asylum, the school) as a device of control over rising populations at the beginning of the Enlightenment and the Age of Empires. Unlike history books I've tried to read on the subject, it's not about the guns and the wars and the battles and the generals—it's about a way of thinking about ourselves and the world that changed drastically as the age of nation-states, commerce, globalized war, and modern science began. One of the things I tried to work with in this story was the idea that Jareth, John Company, and other members of the Gentry are not human beings, but somewhat subject to their rules, moods, and fashions in thinking and expression. Foucault helped me put some definition on when "Winter" began in the philosophical sense. More readable but less historically loopy is Stephen Greenblatt's The Swerve (but my historian friends probably hate that book as much as Strauss and Howe's The Fourth Turning, which is also a darn good read for understanding a circular progression of generational philosophies.)

The Fairies in Tradition and Literature: Katherine Briggs
Briggs is an author that should be read and recommended more often than she is. What Brian Froud, Alan Lee, and Rien Poortvliet do with illustration, Briggs does with academic research and observations about fairies, goblins, hags, banshees, fauns, brownies, and the Gentry. Gentle Reader, beware.

The Egyptian Book of the Dead

The Egyptians believed that the afterlife was a strange and wacko place with arbitrary rules, dangerous enemies, surprising revelations, and humiliating confessions. This afterlife was so complicated that the dead were buried with copies of these Books of the Dead so they could have a travelogue to help guide them through this journey. I've picked through numerous translations over the years, but again, this book was most applicable to the story in terms of defining and describing the Labyrinth as this liminal, in-between, bizarre space in the same tradition of Oz and Never-Never Land.

The Hero With a Thousand Faces: Joseph Campbell
Hooo, buddies, do you ever need to read this book. Campbell's definition of the Heroic Monomyth is: "A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow gifts to his community." Sound like Sarah Williams? It also sounds like Luke Skywalker, Neo, Jake Sully, Charles Wallace Murray, Mad Max, Katniss Everdeen, Daenerys Targaryen (just wait), Bilbo Baggins, Marduk, Horus, Tom Thumb, Hansel and Gretel, Joseph, Moses, and Jesus. AND MORE. Best story ever, told one thousand times over. I've tried to incorporate as many of the specific elements of Campbell's monomyth as possible, but Campbell's investigative and exhaustive definitions of each stage of the Hero's Journey are backed up with numerous examples from mythology, folklore, history, and religious traditions, which was the biggest gift of all. Bonus, the puppet duo Glove and Boots have an entertaining Cliffs Notes version of the book called "The Hero's Journey" which you can watch on YouTube. But seriously, no writer should go without reading Campbell.

Religion and the Decline of Magic: Kevin Thomas
Although this book sounds like a massive tome on how religion kills magic (I'm really sick of hearing faith discussed as though it were somehow anathema to magic) it describes a period of the Early Modern in which Catholic folk beliefs and magical practices were slowly and aggressively supplanted by Protestant values of common sense, literacy, and logic. The most fascinating chapter of this book is on the subject of fairies. Even as far back as the 1400s, people believed that fairies existed in the long-long-ago. Modern authors jam fairies up everywhere in Renaissance culture, especially in the British Isles. But looking at Thomas's historian's data, it seems that fairies inhabit not just the in-between times of dawn and dusk and equinox and solstice, but also the in-between times of a verbal folklore's prehistory.

We Who Are About to Write/Have Written/Are Writing Salute You!

This story became a novel before I was quite aware of what I was doing. I had the entire story there, in notes, by the end of November 2013. But it was thanks in great part to Nyllewell, my beta reader, that this ended up being more than a series of brief sketches and became a full and rich story. Nyllewell pushed me to expand each chapter, asking me difficult questions, drawing my attention to places where the dialog or action or exposition was weak, and gave me the support and encouragement to make this the story you've read, rather than the shorter (30,000 word) story I'd intended. My beta also stepped in and added some written material for some chapters. Holy cats, beta, thank you. The story wouldn't exist as it is without you.

Thanks are also due to Frances Osgood, who came in just before Act III, to give me some help over the rough spots. Her fiction is just utterly superb, and she gave me permission to be more free with descriptions of Sarah and Jareth's sexual relationship, reminding me that this wasn't about writing pornography, it was about two people sharing something that deserved as much attention to detail as the food or the clothing. She was also an emotional guinea-pig, getting the chapters in advance, and helping me figure out how to make the readers cry. If this story made you shed a tear or two, give some thanks to the lovely Fanny.

TheRealEatsShootsandLeaves is never allowed to read anything I've written ever again, because that Panda's anticipated all my damn moves in this story, even when I thought I was being soooo clever and sneaky. (I kid, of course, TRESL, because I always want you to read my stuff.) Seriously, I'd send Panda a PM thanking her for a review, and she'd reply, "You're going to do X, Y, and Z in the next chapters, right?" and I'd tear my hair and kick the desk and finally admit she was omniscient. Goober Panda.

Caro Starlight and Jalen Strix and Zayide also had their brilliantly predictive moments (Caro in particular), and wrote tremendously helpful and supportive reviews. I had so much fun interacting with you three between chapters. Please write more. I'll be there for you, too.

Jetredgirl, Aleta Wolf, and irgroomer—you've been here from the very beginning. Thank you for being such constant and loyal advocates of this story. I've appreciated everything you've done for me, and more, all the emotional support you've given to the characters. You've always been rooting for our heroine and hero.

If I haven't mentioned you here, I believe I've mentioned you elsewhere, loyal reviewers. Thank you all so much. And if you've never given this story a review, it is NEVER TOO LATE FOR REVIEWS. We fanfic writers live off of attention the way zombies live off brains or whatever. Aaaarggh. Reeeeviiewwww!

Last but not least, I would like to thank Jade Cooper. JC not only gave me terrific and substantial reviews for almost every chapter, she also made a fanart cover for this work (a link to her phenomenal art can be found on my profile page). I was simply blown away by what Jade Cooper did, just because she liked this story. And she did it all before the story was finished. That's talent coupled with thematic intuition in rare combination, and I am utterly humbled by her beautiful gift to this story. The sequel is going to have just OODLES of Finn and Toby—just as the lady requested. And speaking of sequel:

Epilogue: An Excerpt from the Upcoming Kingdom Come Sequel: "Labyrinth: Nephilim"
-o0o-

The beast snuffed the air, tracking his prey. Human. Human boy, full of meat and the savor of youth. For all its size, the beast moved quickly, silently, following the boy in the city dark. The boy had been foolish, to enter his territory without any propitiatory offerings. Now he was lawful prey.

The boy obviously wanted to die; he was choosing the darkest street, the alleyways, the places where the uncertain city lights refused to penetrate. The beast felt the thrill and the glory of the slow chase under perfect conditions, as the boy turned into a dead-end alley between two locked and silent buildings. He would leap upon him. He would tear him apart and drink his blood, and then, belly full, he would sleep until hunger and desire drove him out again. The boy would be a dainty delicacy after years of hard-spiced vagrants, and make the sleep the sweeter.

The beast reached out with his claws and struck sparks from the cinderblock walls, and had to repress a chuckle as the boy peered nervously over his shoulder and stepped forward into the trap with a quicker step. The boy sensed the predator, but could not see it. The beast smiled. Fear would season the meat. This would be quick. It would be certain.

The boy stopped short, looking up at the unexpected chain-link fence blocking the alley. He took the metal links in his hands and shook them, then turned and paused.

"I know you're there," the boy said. "Show yourself."

The predator paused, uncertain. Humans, in his experience, tried to defend themselves from fear with a denial of feeling. This frank bravado was unusual. So the beast shook himself free of the cloaking glamour and growled, stepping out of the shadows, let the boy see.

Tall, but not tall for a man. A body made of muscle and fat and covered with patched and scabby skin, fur ripped out or fallen out from mange. Upright, now, almost a foot taller than the boy, with long, long bent-joint arms that ended in long, long fingers and claws in hands meant to snatch and grab. Yellow teeth. Pulsing red pig's eyes. The beast roared, daubing the boy with spittle. One more yard and he would be in range to grab. But slowly. He would go slowly, and enjoy the terror he inspired before he snuffed out the prey's life. Perhaps by blood loss. Perhaps by strangulation.

The boy went white and trembled, taking a step back, stopped by the rattling fence.

"Go away," the boy said. He held up his hand in a warding gesture. "Go away now, or you die."
The beast tipped his scabby neck back and laughed. His bulk filled the alley. His back arched and he crept slowly closer, claws outstretched to tickle and snatch and rend. Those long stick-pin fingers scratched open one long tear across the boy's winter coat.

The boy screamed.

And then the beast felt a strange, new feeling. Pain. There was intense pain, in his head, in his neck. He grasped at the source of this pain and felt a length of sharp metal extruding from his neck, in a place where no metal should be. Killed. He had been killed.

"I'm sorry," he head the voice of his killer say, behind him. It was a warm voice, a gentle voice, even regretful. "But Bee did warn you."

The beast felt the sadness and anger of being cheated, and cried out once in outrage, blood bubbling from its impaled throat. In the next moment, the beast was dead.

The boy gasped for breath, close to hyperventilating, as the swordsman, the monster-killer, wiped his long iron blade clean on the cooling flesh of the beast. "You okay, Bee?" he asked, sheathing his sword against his hip.

"I'm fine," the boy wheezed, staring at the downed creature and bent over, putting his head between his knees.

The swordsman stepped over the beast and felt the boy over for injuries. The blond boy shoved him away. "I said I'm fine!" The swordsman gave him a penetrating glance and then turned to look at the corpse he'd made. Behind him, he heard the boy throw up.

"You should have aimed that for over here," the swordsman said. "Drop some gravy on this roast." He grinned as he heard the boy throw up again, and looked over his shoulder at him.

"Thanks so much for that, Finn," the boy said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Why do I always gotta be the bait?"

The swordsman grinned. "Because you're the pretty one." He clapped the boy on his back and wrapped his red-sleeved arm around the boy's narrow shoulders. "Come on, Bee, I'll buy you a slushie."

As they left the alley, the quiet and hungry inhuman denizens of the city crept closer to feed on the fresh meat left so tantalizingly alone. Feeling their approach, Finn led Bee quickly away, out into more well-lit and populated places, places where a dark-skinned horned man in a long red coat, and a pale blond youth with a naïve face could eat and drink and discuss urban hunting without raising any questions. The city's darkness had seen it all, but Finn didn't want Bee to see the final result of their night's work. The city was blasé; the boy was innocent.

So the eater became the eaten. Even the bones would be carried away, to be gnawed through. Even the blood would be licked clean away. It had happened before. It would happen again. Finn hummed the Doxology under his breath. World without end, city without sleep, a labyrinth of commerce and magic. Amen, amen.

"I mean it," Bee said, the cherry slushie staining his lips and tongue red. Finn knew if he were to kiss that mouth now, it would taste sugar-sweet, perhaps stain his own mouth, too. He licked his lips and daintily picked at the paper tray of nachos before them on the metal table. "Why do I always have to be the bait? If I'd had a sword—"

"If you had a sword, you would have gotten too close." He had pulled a small red book from his pack and was carefully sketching a picture of the beast. The size of a calf on all fours, in shape not unlike a sloped-back hyena, or a gorilla. No fur. Flesh Shuck, Finn labeled the entry. He nibbled his Bic thoughtfully as he worked.

"What about a gun?"

Finn made a rude noise. "Do tell me, Bee, what is this family fetish with firearms? If you'd had a gun, you would have fired it."

"Damn right," Bee said, grabbing a particularly cheese-rich chip.

"At the creature." Finn added some notations about approximate weight and standing height.

"Duh." Bee ate, and then sucked a bit of grease from his fingertips.

"And at me. I was standing right behind it, remember." He snapped the red book closed and put it away, smiling at the youth's complaints with a fond expression.

"I wouldn't have hit you," Bee said, sullenly, sucking at his straw.

"You could have. You think, honey-Bee, that a bullet cares where it goes?"

"And a sword does?" Bee said petulantly.

"A sword does," Finn said darkly, caressing the hilts of his weapons. "My swords care, very much, where they go."

"So let me use one," Bee insisted, slapping his cup down on the table.

"No," Finn said with finality. "I know what," he said, with sudden inspiration. "Let's go visit your sister. That'll cheer you up." And me, he thought. Toby, you're adorable but it's exhausting keeping you both entertained and unhurt. He kept the thought hidden from his face.

"You just want to see him," Bee said. Finn grinned. Bee's jealousy was naked and sweet. "The Goblin King."

"Your brother!" Finn cajoled, still smiling.

"Brother-in-law," Bee said. His red lips curled into a reluctant answering smile. "Okay. I guess."

"I thought you liked His Majesty," Finn said, finishing off the nachos and snagging Bee's unfinished drink for good measure. "Don't you like him?"

"I do," Bee sighed. "It's just sometimes… I don't like the way he looks at you. Like you're something he owns."

Finn reached out and took the boy's hand and held it gently. His golden eyes lit with an emotion somewhere between remorse and desire. "But he does own me, Toby. The Goblin King owns me, body and soul."

"That's slavery," Bee said, trying to jerk his hand away, but Finn was stronger, and honed with years of practice in holding a strong grip. This was a conversation they'd had before, in bits and pieces, well-worn as a familiar piece of clothing.

"Some vows last forever," Finn said quietly. His index finger stroked gently over the boy's palm. "What's promised is promised. What's said is said." He released Bee's hand sooner than he would have liked.

"I could talk to him," Bee said. "Let him understand. It's not fair for him to—"

Finn laughed and finished off the last of the boy's sweet drink. "Fair! You know, I do believe you're the one person on Earth or Under who could say that to him and get away with it. Fair. Feh. Finished those nachos?" Bee nodded. "Good. We can catch the subway and be at the Goblin Market before dawn if we hurry."

"Or we could go see my parents," Bee asked reluctantly.

Finn hid a sigh. He disliked humdrum humanity, and Bee's parents were as hum as drum came. Though, of course, they'd made a certain peace with their daughter's unusual marriage to a not-quite human creature, Finn was reluctant to cause a confrontation between overprotective parents and himself. It would do no good to explain to them that the boy was of legal age and had insisted on leaving school for a semester to follow Finn about the darker corners of New York City, slicing and dicing up monsters as they went, protecting the humdrum human beings who had no idea what death they might find if they turned down the wrong street at the wrong time. Bee liked the danger, for all his complaints. Bee was a fool in the best sort of way. His own ignorance and innocence protected him from dangers psychological and physical. But still. If Bee didn't have the courage to tell Mummy and Daddy what he was up to on his sabbatical—Finn had heard him refer to it as an "urban internship" on their brief phone calls—then it would hardly be fair to force Finn to disabuse them of their comforting notions.

This was the primary reason he hadn't so much as kissed the boy yet, not so much as laid a naked hand to that soft and tender open-armed flesh. Bee wanted Finn the way a cavity wanted an ache. Bee was still a child. All of these thoughts circled through his mind in a few seconds, and when he responded to Bee's suggestion, it was with no break in the conversation.

"It'll be good for you to see your parents," Finn said. "They'll be overjoyed to fuss over you. Cook you some wholesome food. Wash your undershorts."

Bee blushed. "That was just the one time!" He'd peed himself on their first hunt, when the kelpie slithered out of the Hudson and laid cold fingers on him. Tumor-ridden, hateful and hungry, it had intended to drown the boy. Finn, of course, had had other intentions, carefully realized.

"Poor kid," Finn cooed. "Yes, let's definitely take you home tonight. You need your own bed, and your mother to tuck you in. Not bad old Finn with his monsters."

"I'm not a baby," Bee said fiercely.

"Yes," said Finn, grinning, tenderly tucking a long wavy strand of hair behind the boy's ear. "Yes, you are."

-o0o-
Labyrinth: The Nephilim. Coming in June 2014.