We were born sick, ' you heard them say it

My Church offers no absolutes

She tells me, 'Worship in the bedroom.'

The only heaven I'll be sent to

Is when I'm alone with you—Hozier (If you have not heard this song, you should google it now, thank me later).

Sarah snapped out of it. She wasn't entirely sure why her mind was misbehaving. She had one reason for being in this room, she had made up her mind, and she would not allow Honor's well meaning fear to fog her purpose. The Goblin King was her prey, though she may have to pretend to be his...for now. Let him come, she thought wickedly to herself.

Pulling her shoulders back and rising to her full height, Sarah showed no signs of fear. Her green eyes, framed eloquently by the dark mask, flashed a challenge at no one in particular.

In an instant, Honor was dipping into a graceful bow with her head lowered. When she rose her chin was seized by the deceptively gentle hand of her sovereign. Her eyes, which moments ago were sharp, clever, and urgent, appeared serene and fawning. She was a true courtesan.

"Good evening, cousin" the Goblin King snarled.

"Well met your grace," she lowered her eyes.

Rumpelstiltskin, having finally realized what was afoot, stood warily behind his mistress next to Sarah. His face was set in a cheerful mold, though it was plain to everyone that he did not like the way things were going. His royal relation was a grand chap most of the time, but no one appreciated another man's hands on his old lady. He was perfectly happy to undo all of Honor's prior work of shielding Sarah, in order to draw the king's attention from said lady, by turning quickly to the young woman at his side and saying jovially, "My dear Jareth, meet our enchanting new friend, Ms. Mortal." He gave her a ruff push toward the king for good measure.

Sarah gritted her teeth and held back a glare at the imp's antics, though she managed to catch the look of death that his partner sent him once her face was released. Nothing could be done now.

The Goblin King slowly cocked his head as if to view her from a better angle. His movements were more inhuman than Sarah had remembered, his eyes more feral. No recognition danced within his haphazard gaze, and for that she was thankful. He slowly looked her up and down, noting the places were the shimmering fabric she wore clung to curves. From her graceful fingertips to just below her beautifully exposed shoulders and neck, her arms were hidden from him, but the short dress mercifully left a pair of long legs in view for his eyes to devour.

Sarah didn't quiver, though her heart was racing a little, neither did she wilt under his searing scrutiny, she had faced that before. Instead, she allowed her red stained lips to part and mirrored his body language, titling her own head mechanically, yet keeping her height. A less valiant heart would have been quelled, and lost the attention of the monarch, but not Sarah. She had beaten him once already.

Jareth caught the edge of defiance in her laughing eyes and met it with a wolfish grin. Too late to turn back now.

She ran.

Or she turned her back on him at least. With the self satisfied smile of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, Sarah stormed away from the trio as quickly as the kitten heels she wore would allow. Honor, Rumpelstiltskin, and Jareth stood watching the young woman slip through the quickly crowding room. No one turned their back on the Goblin King.

"And, I thought tonight would be boring," Jareth smirked.

Exploding out into the crisp night air, Sarah cursed herself for not wearing a coat. Ah well.

She clicked across the marble landing heading for a beautiful staircase that would lead her into the gardens of the Opera House. She could see that the foliage was covered in glimmering frost.

"Where do you think you're going," asked a chilly voice from directly behind her. Though Sarah had known that he would follow her, she still felt a little sick at the idea of being alone, and trapped inside the walled arboretum with him.

"Wherever I wish, you are not my king, I do not need your permission," looking innocently at him from over her shoulder, she added quietly and sweetly, "You have no power over me."

She would have continued down the steps except that suddenly a very solid male body was blocking her way. It must be nice to possess the ability to blow oneself into a gazillion tiny atoms and reassemble them wherever one liked in the blink of an eye, she thought.

"What did you say?" his expression was unreadable, but his eyes were ice cold.

"You are not my king," she brazenly ducked beneath one of the arms barring her passage and skipped the last two steps. Landing upon a brick pathway, she followed its winding journey all the way to its end beside a frozen fountain.

Jareth appeared slowly on the opposite side of the water feature. He watched the intriguing creature as she moved away from him. She had to be unbelievable cold, but her body did not betray her. She didn't shiver or attempt to warm herself. Instead, she watched him wearily, like a cornered jungle cat. After a few moments, she turned her back to him once more, an action that thoroughly bewildered him. He was accustomed to lowered gazes and avoided eye contact, but others liked to know exactly where he was.

Taking his time, he stalked around the fountain, keeping some distance between them. The woman's vibrant green eyes blazed at him from behind the delicately crafted mask. They were cruel eyes. She was dangerous, and that didn't bother him.

Slowly she turned her body toward him. With hands on her hips she closed the distance between them slightly and then proceeded to peel the gloves from her fingers revealing immaculately well-kept hands.

A playfully seductive look washed over her face as she gathered the gloves in a single hand that found its way back to her hip.

"Would you like for me to show you your dreams, your majesty?" While her face smiled suggestively, her bitter eyes betrayed her.