If there was one thing the Goblin King was good at, and he was by his own admission extremely talented in many respects, bending the rules perhaps just a little was certainly one of his most favourite. He could not bring Sarah into his kingdom again. She had invoked the right words, and they would protect her from that particular ploy. Similarly, he was not permitted anywhere near her brother, and besides, she had allies in his kingdom, she had power. So yes, perhaps Jareth cheated, as he was wont to do, always and forever and ever. Near to his own kingdom fell the vast, unchartable, ever-shifting realm of the Dreaming, unguarded and frankly, writhing in chaos with the disappearance of its Lord. Why, it was the simplest thing indeed to take a little shortcut, through the Dreaming, and into Sarah's unconscious mind. When she awoke, she mistook his presence for a strange feature of the dream, and within it he was able to take all sorts of liberties that would not have been permissible in the Waking World.

He needed to see her. He couldn't stay away, he loved her so, with a feeling so intense it tore him in two to see her hate him.

In dreams, she didn't always hate him. In dreams, she didn't always think. Everything was perfect in dreams, and Jareth had worked out a nice little system where he would visit on occasion, once a week and he had planned this out, choosing different days each week so as not to raise her suspicion, never visiting too close together (it was only courteous to allow a lady her privacy). It was every bit his intention to continue the matter on for the rest of her natural days, and then figure out some way to extend her life so they might be together longer still. Perhaps by then she would have changed her mind about becoming his Queen. Perhaps…

Everything was perfect in dreams, and a few years passed this way, until one night, after visiting his darling Sarah, Jareth was taking his usual route back to his kingdom, through the abandoned realm of the Dream Lord. He knew something the inhabitants of this sorry place (not a patch on his own kingdom, for sure. True, it was far larger, and the powers of the Dream Lord greater, but that was irrelevant. This place didn't have as wonderful a labyrinth, did it now?) did not. He knew where Dream of the Endless was, trapped in a glass bubble, wasn't that something now? Jareth couldn't help but approve. So he knew nothing would trouble him on his way home: nobody but the Lord of Dreams would have dared challenge him anyway. And if, on the off chance, his Lordship did get free, why, Jareth could charm his way out of it, the tiresome, tedious fellow was not immune to the subtle arts of diplomacy (read: lying), was he now? Was he?

As he walked, clad in all his gaudy finery, eyes daubed in silver, a spring in his step from his delightful meeting with his Sarah (they had dinner in dream-Paris. She threw her drink on him. Her passion was, as ever, exhilarating) he felt something in the air grow taught and heavy behind him. A silence, a deafening, echoing silence, and the chill of ageless, piercing eyes. Jareth froze. Not even Sarah had a glare that paralysing. Why now? It wasn't fair!

No. Nothing ever was. He reminded himself of this basic fact, and forcing a smile, turned around. There he stood, the Lord Morpheus, Lord Shaper, call him what you will. Dream. A tall figure, only perhaps a little shorter than Jareth (originally, Lord Dream had been taller, by but an inch or so, including his bird's-nest hair. Jareth had extended his hair further upwards out of petty competition, and now he stood taller), robed in sleek black midnight. His wild dark hair hung tangled about his inscrutable alabaster face, and his forbidding eyebrows were narrowed over eyes that shone with the light of (quite literal) stars. Jareth's smile cracked slightly, but he decided to play innocent, and bowed formally.

"Well met, my Lord Shaper. So good to see you out of your little bubble. It's been too long."

The Lord of Dreams remained expressionless. Some had called Jareth haughty before now, some had called him distant and aloof (and some were currently languishing in the Bog of Eternal Stench, as they justly deserved), but the Lord Shaper, Morpheus took this to whole new levels. That unquantifiable expression, those unreadable, infinite eyes, he was worlds beyond. In the Goblin Kingdom, Jareth's power was strong, but not absolute. Here, in the Dreaming, the Lord Shaper could do whatsoever he pleased. And didn't the Goblin King know it.

"Jareth, King of Goblins, I bid you welcome to my realm. Might I inquire the reasons for your presence?" Morpheus asked in a measured tone. His captivity had done nothing for his stuffy formality, that was for sure. At least Jareth, in his haughty, distant aloofness had a sense of humour, a concept of fun! Like kidnapping children, or playing impossible games (and cheating at them) and singing at possibly the most inappropriate times. On the other hand, Lord Morpheus had honour. And duty. And worst of all, responsibility. He was an old bore, who disapproved of Jareth's bending of rules to suit himself, who had never liked the labyrinth game, certainly in his day you couldn't use dreams as part of the fun. But this was his day. He was back. And it was impossible to tell how much he knew. Playing innocent was certainly the best move.

"I was walking. This place is most congenial for a walk, don't you think? The skies are simply so majestic. What colour do you use, exactly, I'm thinking of redecorating the Goblin Kingdom soon and I want to get the tone just right?" Jareth turned around to leave, and saw the Dreamlord standing directly in front of him. Well, it was worth a try, regardless of its success.

"You were not, then, trespassing in the dream of one Sarah Williams, and you do not happen to know the swiftest route back to your realm, suggesting you have not made this particular...walk before?" inquired Lord Morpheus, his voice level and entirely devoid of accusation or sarcasm, its timbre rich and dark.

Damn. You never knew where you stood with Dream, what exactly it was he knew; and as it turned out, he knew everything. Jareth prepared himself to make some spiel about war and consequences of turning against Fae-kind and the Rules (Dream was, naturally, a great lover of the rules), when the Dreamlord said abruptly, his voice low; "Obsession is a dangerous creature, Goblin King. Do not let it consume you. I speak from experience. Love and humanity, mortality, it rarely ends well."

"I would make her my Queen! She would have everything she desired and more. I would bend my world to her wishes."

"Be careful, Goblin King," Dream's normally controlled voice took on a tone of tragedy "Once I said the same to a woman. Do you know what happened to her?"

Jareth shrugged. "I adore her. I would do anything to be with her. I don't care what happened to your boring, presumably dead girlfriend. I'm not such a fool."

The Dreamlord's face, for the briefest moment, took on a drawn, inner fury wound tight in his jawline for a the smallest fraction of a second, and then passed back to its usual blank. "You should care. If you do not take heed, Sarah Williams may go the way of Nada."

"Isn't that the woman who killed herself to escape you and because she spurned you, you sent her to Hell? I fail to see a parallel." And then he didn't. And then the parallel was all too clear and he wished more than ever the Lord Shaper had the good grace to stay imprisoned, or to keep his long nose out of Jareth's relationship issues. Ignorance is bliss, as the mortals say.

"You will stay out of Sarah Williams' dreams in future, Goblin King. She is under my protection. Do not come back here again."

Disappointed at the outcome, but relieved it had not come to battle, Jareth bid the Lord of Dreams farewell and, somewhat hastily, made his exit. When asked where he had been, he lied, but confessed he had news of the Lord Shaper's return and the other Kingdoms must be informed. He sent that Hogface Whateverhisnamewas as a messenger, and the insolent dwarf reluctantly accepted.

Already Jareth missed her. But it was, after all, for the best. Nobody wanted another Nada incident, did they? Sinking back onto his throne, he fell into a languid stupor, until something pricked at his ears. It was a child, a little boy, shouting at his young sister in a fit of temper. The king's lips twitched, and drew themselves into a smile.

"I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now!"

He rose. There was work to be done.

Morpheus watched from the shadows of Sarah Williams' dreams, until she exited that morning into the Waking World. She was nothing like Nada, not in appearance, but there it was, that ingrained stubbornness, written in her blood, and he knew what had drawn the Goblin King to her. Maybe his destruction of the relationship was not just fuelled by concern, maybe there was a jealousy, that the Goblin King might even have, in time, succeeded, where the Lord of Dreams failed. Maybe it was a selfishness, disliking the use of the Dreaming by anyone other than himself and his own subjects.

Maybe it was many things, but as he later sat back on his throne, in the dizzying grandeur of his throne room, Morpheus knew he needed a distraction. His realm had by no means recovered from his absence.

He rose. There was work to be done.