Pairing: None right now. There are, however, references to homosexuality as well as heterosexuality, so be warned.

Disclaimer: I simply play with the characters as I perceive them. I have no rights or privileges except that of my own twisted little imagination.

Author's Note: If this first chapter is confusing, bear with me. Things will clear by the second chapter. Oh, and the references to Sarah as a man are not typos. Just trust me! Oh, and please do not read if slash, or swearing, offends you.

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"Goblin King, Goblin King, take this… oh wait, those are the wrong words. I wish the goblins would take me away right now."

Nothing happened.

Sarah looked around the room and peeked into the mirror. Her green eyes stared back at her, the tear tracks continued to trace salt trails down her face and she scrubbed at them angrily. Jareth hadn't come for her.

"He came fast enough the last time," she muttered roughly, stalking to her bed and beginning to pull on the hated clothes, "Didn't even want him last time and he was there. Damned… BASTARD!"

"Actually, no," Jareth voice said snidely from behind her, "Adorably annoying, yes; illegitimate, no."

Sarah spun around with a gasp, her shirt forgotten as it dropped back to the bed from her fingers. But there was no longer in shame in standing half-naked before him. There was nothing much for him to see. And from the way his eyes widened at the sight of her, she knew with bitter certainty that he had a fair idea of why she had called for him.

"Sarah?"

"Actually, no," she mimicked, "I was once Sarah and no doubt I'll be Sarah again in three months. Right now you can call me Sam."

"Sam." Jareth circled her with a sad frown on his chiselled features. "I see you came of age."

Sarah crossed her arms on her chest and snorted. "I came of age three years ago, Goblin King. My dad… explained things to me, about my condition, I mean. He also told me some quite interesting things. About you. About me. About him."

"I see. I had forgotten that Peshawas came of age at twenty-two. Was it very painful?" His heart ached for her. It could not have been easy. The look onthat pretty face said it had not been so. But he could offer no sympathy that she would accept.

"It hurt," Sarah said simply, shutting down that train of thoughts. Jareth had abandoned her; he obviously wanted nothing to do with her, so expecting him to feel for her in anything but an objectively sympathetic way was ridiculous. Not that it made much difference to what she wanted.

The Goblin King picked the pink shirt off the bed and looked at it. A woman's shirt? "This is the wrong shirt, Sar- Sam."

She turned and snatched it from him, a faint blush on her face. "Don't! Just because I'm some freak doesn't mean…"

"Freak? You're no freak, my dear."

"I am! Just- just turn your back, okay? I don't like people seeing me like this. It's wrong. And you're not allowed to see me naked."

"You're wearing trousers," Jareth protested, "And, much though it pains me to point this out, your body is now hardly different to mine, is it?"

The shirt was thrown back in the fae's face and a distraught young man was sitting down on the floor, a hand pressed to his mouth as his green eyes filled with tears that he stubbornly refused to shed. Jareth cursed himself and sat down on the bed. He was uncertain of what to do and had the little notion that Sarah, or Sam, would scream bloody murder if he tried to comfort her… or him. What exactly was he to call her- him- her… oh, blast!

"Sam, I think you should get off the floor and dress." Frustration made him curt and short-tempered. It certainly explained why Sarah had been so short with him.

Sam shook his head, long dark hair flowing around his soft pale face in almost-curls.

"I'm a goddamned Peshawa," he mumbled through his hand, "I don't want to be this. Help me. Please, help me. I tried to be this- this thing, but I can't! You have to do something."

"Get up!" Jareth conjured up a basic white shirt and yanked the younger man off the floor. In her male form, Sarah was his height. Which was only to be expected, after all. "Put that on!" He helped with the buttons and finally, finally, Sam or Sarah was fully dressed. Men's jeans and a plain white silk shirt, barefoot and slumped: Jareth hated to see Sarah so miserable.

"Jareth, could you take me away with you?"

He stilled. He didn't want to see Sarah miserable, but taking her back to his Castle? Robert would be furious! "Why?"

"I told you," Sam groaned, "I'm a freak! How am I supposed to live like this?"

"Sarah- I mean, Sam- taking you back to the Goblin Kingdom is not something to be trifled with. You are not a freak; you're simply a magical creature. But you have been raised to be mortal and I am not sure…"

"I told Dad," Sarah snapped, "He doesn't want me to go."

Jareth let go of the wiry arm. "Then I am sorry. You can't come."

"Jareth!"

"Sarah?" He lifted his chin and raised an eyebrow, staring challengingly into the green eyes, daring her to say something.

But Sarah had never been that easily intimidated by him; apprehensive, yes, but not intimidated. She had inherited something from him, after all. "Look, Goblin King, you've done fuck-all in my life and never been there for even one thing that's really meant something to me. The first and last time I saw you, you were trying to get me killed by making me run that stupid Labyrinth of yours. I know you hate the sight of me, but you're my father, dammit, so get your shit act together and act like one!"

A smirk almost caught at his lips, but Jareth stilled it. Pasting his blankest expression over his face, he paced for a while, pursing his mouth in thought. "Call Robert," he said at last, "I cannot take you away from your birth-parent. For one thing, he'd eviscerate me."

Sarah duly made that call, refusing all her Dad's orders to stay away from the Goblin King. "You're the one who was stupid enough to get knocked-up, Dad. Don't blame me for wanting to know my other parent. I never asked for this… yes, of course, I bloody blame you! Who else will I blame? Or is Jareth a Peshawa too?"

Jareth shook his head in distaste at the query in his daughter's green eyes. Of course he wasn't a Peshawa! Did the girl mean to insult him? But then she didn't actually realize, he knew, just how the Peshawa were regarded by other magical creatures. Robert would not actually have told her much, as well, he guessed. After all, she was reared a mortal.

Peshawa… he continued to pace, thoughts on that far-away day when his iigawa had run away, taking their child with him. He'd been furious enough to rip the worlds apart trying to get her back. But the years had softened that fury until he'd come to understand why Robert had done what he'd done. Because the poor thing had never really been iigawa, had he; no, he'd been called a traitor and been disinherited for his refusal to accept the lot of his life. Had it not been for the Goblin King's offer to take him on, he would have died in the deserts of the High Lands.

So engrossed in memories was he, that said Goblin King didn't even notice that Sarah was watching him.

"He said to tell you to rot in hell and that if I don't return in three weeks, he will personally return to kill you himself," Sam interrupted.

His concentration broken, Jareth could only shrug and hold out his hand. "Are you sure? The last time I saw you, you refused to let me be a part of your life."

"Because the price was too high. My baby brother for my dreams? Far too high."

"Robert would have said the same," Jareth commented, "He chose the baby instead of his dreams as well. Come. Let's go."

A warm hand in his gloved one and he gestured to the window. "We're walking there." One step and they were in his throne room.

But such a difference! No drunken goblins and no wine-soiled flagstones. The floors were swept and washed and the tapestries were mended and hung in austere precision. The wind blew through the room to ruffle at their hair and belatedly Sarah realized that she had left her hair untied. She hated that, especially when she was in male form. Though usually, she simply dressed as she always did and added padding to give herself some sort of female form. She rarely ever acknowledged her masculine alter-shape.

"Sit," Jareth commanded, pointing to his throne. "I will call for something to eat. I suppose you must be fed."

The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I- I am a little hungry," he admitted, blushing as he touched his stomach. "It's, um, That Time."

Jareth never batted an eyelid. Peshawa were able to conceive as males and females. In essence, they were breeders. In common language, the rest of the known races called them sex slaves, useful for pleasure and breeding. They changed sexes every three months, unless they were one of the rare species that were fully-fledged hermaphrodites, and always experienced increased body heat and appetites during their ovulation.

"Troy," he shouted, throwing open the door.

A clean little goblin woman with bright eyes and pointed ears appeared and bowed before him.

"My daughter is here," Jareth said simply, "She intends to stay with us for three weeks. Prepare her suite on my floor and have a meal sent to us here immediately. Preferably something cold. Understood?"

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Troy said. In general, she was discreet and perfectly controlled. But even she couldn't help directing an honestly curious stare at the blushing young man sitting in the throne behind her monarch. The tale of Jareth's stolen daughter by his escaped iigawa was legendary. Rumours had abounded for years and now to actually meet the girl…

Jareth cleared his throat and glowered down at his servant. She squeaked in terror and sped away. The Goblin King shut the door and came back. Sarah was sitting slumped in his throne just where he'd left her, eyes firmly fixed to the floor in resigned sadness.

Ah yes. Just where had he seen this look before? Oh, that was right- Robert had looked like that for most of the few years he'd spent with him. Jareth felt the white-hot thrust of anger and pushed it away impatiently. Sarah was not Robert; he wouldn't bother to keep her if she asked to be let go. She wasn't his business; only his daughter.