Disclaimer: I own nothing that you would be interested in, I promise. Certainly not 'the Labyrinth', cause Jim Hensen and tons of other lucky folks do. I only have my imagination, and sometimes that proves too interesting on its own.

In the last chapter we left Jareth en route to the mortal realm after a rather telling encounter with his father, a member of the High Council. Sarah, on the other hand, is hearing a rather entrancing tale about the love of a Fey and a mortal, and how it forever changed both worlds.

A Pale Jewel:

"He came then, the King of the Fey. He knelt at the young woman's feet, and closed the wound there by simply passing his hand over the hole." Sarah bit her lip, fighting the questions. He would tell her soon enough…

Ayden came by, laughing, and broke her almost-trance. "I see ye were hungry after all, miss Sarah." His teasing wink was met with a blush, but he felt the difference in his soul. She was embarrassed at her hunger, not blushing at his attention. Though his male vanity was slightly pricked, he knew it was probably for the best.

That Yank with eyes like the deepest forest shadow was not for him. Her heart lay elsewhere, and he would be wasting time trying to win it for himself. He swept away the empty dish, slightly saddened to realize that she wasn't going to notice him taking his leave, either. Duncan's tale was told well, he admitted, but it was something else that had this American Miss so deeply enthralled.

"Are you still interested in my story, lass?" The old man's question made Sarah smile brilliantly. She didn't notice Ayden leave, but she did notice the missing plate with no little regret.

"I am very, very interested. I feel like I know it, somewhere deep down." And a part of her longed to hear the rest. It was like the need of a flute to play, or a dancer to dance. The strains of a waltz played in her head, and her breath sped up irregularly. She closed her eyes, warding off the impending panic attack. It released her from it's clutches, but slowly, and with great reluctance.

"Well then, cailín, I shall not keep you waiting." He reached for his pipe, frowned, and continued.

"Her father knew almost instantly that the man was not of their world. He knew in that moment, more than any other, that his lost love was of the same. Her ears had been pointed too, as this man's were. Her hair had been as full, though his was as dark as a raven's wing in the depth of night, so black it was almost blue. As blue as the strange man's eyes.

"'I am the Fey King, and my debt is served. She shall live.' As the man thought to rise and leave, the young woman reached out to him and smiled, softly. Her eyes were fever bright, one gold, the other blue, and both were focused on the king of the Fey with something akin to idol worship. For, you see, she loved him as desperately and innocently as her father had loved her mother. Instantly and truly.

"And the king looked upon her as well, and saw more than a burden he was forced to accept, more than a sick little half-breed. She asked him softly how he had come, and ever the one for a tale, and with a keen eye for the theatrical, he launched into the tale.

"It was a cruel game his servant had played with him. She had hidden all of his buttons from him, every single one, from all of his garments. She would give them all to him, one by one, so long as he granted her a boon in return. At first they were simple things, like the ability to walk Aboveground so long as she remained within the fairy ring.

"At the mention of this Mickie's heart raced, and he knew that this King's servant was his on dear love, so long separated from him. But the King's tale was not through. He could have simply conjured more, he told them, but it was the principal of the matter that counted. And with the second button she had made him vow that he would not renege of a promise that he was capable of granting. With the third she made him promise to be a king of his word, worth his honor, and play the game she had created for him. The king's eyes glittered dangerously, and rather than being frightened by the King of the Fey, the young maiden laid her hand upon his sleeve to still his wrath.

The next wish, he told them, was that she could walk outside the ring. But it was not within his power to allow such, so she was saddened. It was a long time before she approached him again, and she was long absent from his presence. When again she approached him, she bore a babe, a beautiful girl child. 'Now, children are precious in the Underground, in my kingdom and in all of the others as well. Fey can only bare children out of love, and the Fey seldom give all of themselves to another person entirely, so capricious and wild are their natures. She wished to take her child to it's father, in the Aboveground. And when I tried to refuse, she reminded me of my vow, to honor any promise within my power.'

"The bitterness in his voice was almost visible, and Mickie flinched. The young woman simply watched him with interest. 'And so I let her take her child into a world where it would grow and age, and fall prey to the whims of mortal men and women.' And he continued, pressing onwards, truly getting riled with his tale. She had beaten him at a game so simple that it was brilliant.

"'And once more she fled from me, knowing that my wrath would be sharp, and my vengeance swift. She called out to me only once more, on her deathbed but a sunset past.' Mickie cried out, tears gathering in his eyes. 'you saved her, did you not? She asked for you to save her?' But the king shook his head. 'No. She knew that it was one thing I could not give her. She had a far different request for me. She asked me to cure her daughter, the light of her life. She knew not what ailed you,' he said, speaking to the young woman, 'but only that you needed me.'"

Sarah felt the sadness of Mickie, the loss of his love. And she felt the blind love and devotion of the young half-Fey. And even the echo of the kings anger overlapped. She knew that he would fight the urge to de her will, the will of one that had bested him. My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is great…

"The King of the Fey left them then, with their questions and their confusion. It was not his concern, he told himself angrily. He should never have submitted to his servant's will. But he had all of his buttons back now, he thought with a malicious smile. She had offered him all of his lost buttons in exchange for her daughter's life. Something inside the king, however, objected that the beautiful creature was worth far more than a handful of buttons. More than a handful of stars…

"He became obsessed with her, the girl he had been forced to attend to. Her smile was like sunlight spilling over his sill. Her eyes were as all mixed-bloods in the Aboveground, and he could already see the colors in them shifting, changing in joy, surprise, love… It enraged him, this emotion he felt for her. And so he let some five mortal years pass before he approached her again.

"He strode, bold as brass, to her door, and knocked. She came to the door, covered in ash and wearing the thick gloves of her trade. He told her he had chosen her as his queen, and she should be honored. When he demanded that she follow him back to his kingdom, she laughed at him. Her laughter meant the world to him, even as his was shattering. His wrath was merciless. He glared at her and told her she was dead to her mother's people, that she should be honored that he allowed her to live at all. And the entire time he walked back to his fairy ring, the king heard her soft, beautiful laughter mocking him."

"But you said she loved him!" Sarah didn't realize how much she had been involved in the story until her outburst overwhelmed her. The old man laughed again, and someone called out to him in good natured play.

"Cad a rá leat chun an cailín a dhéanamh léi glaoch amach go bhfuil slí Duncan*?"

"Nothing time will not teach you, lad," Came Duncan's reply. He stilled his laughter before replying to Sarah. "She did love him, but he offered her nothing. A kingdom meant nothing to her, nothing at all. She wanted so little, and he refused to give it to her. More the fool, him."

"But she could have made him love her in time, I'm sure of it."

He raised thick bushy brows. "You sound so sure, lass… Ah, but there is more to the tale. Do you wish to hear it? Even if it does not end well?" Sarah nodded but she wasn't sure if it was true. "Well the king waited another year before he came to her again, this time thinking about her reaction. He knew that women liked gifts, and so he brought with him a dozen beautiful gems. Pale emeralds, deep sapphires, fiery rubies…

"When she opened the door her eyes filled with tears. She smiled at him, hoping that he would proclaim his love, begging him to speak of his affection. He did not. He offered her the gems and said that those and more would be hers, if she would but wed him and rule his kingdom with her. She shook he head sadly. 'I am to be wed,' said she, 'and only one thing could keep me with ye.' The king demanded to know what more he could offer her. And she fled from his sight, weeping, shutting the door to him firmly. Forgotten, the gems spilled out upon the earth and became flowers.

"They would bloom there still." Sarah smiled, the touch of theatrical appealing to her childish pleasure. Oh, what a best-selling fiction story this would have been…

"He raged for three years this time, hating mortals in general, blaming them for her capricious nature and demanding ways. When he returned to her again it was with several stones from his castle, heavy pieces of marble that he lifted with no strain. For Fey are rather powerful creatures, ones of magic and mysteries unknown to mankind.

"She began taking walks in the woods to see the fairy ring, and he watched her every time, longingly. He came to her one night, and emotion overwhelmed them. They made love there, with no one to suspect what they had done. It was in love they came together, and in joy. For each there was only the other. When he departed it was with the ease Fey usually approached such things, though even something about it had touched him in a strange and personal way it never had before.

"When he knocked on that door again, she was thick with child. 'My Father has died,' she told him, 'and my place is here with the family I have made. The only ones who love me.' Her hand rested on her bairn, the child within her womb. The child that they had made together.

"The Fey King grew furious at the sight. He loved her! Why did the fool not see? And as he left the dropped the stones one by one 'til he reached her garden gate, slamming it shut in his wake. The marble stones cracked as they hit the earth, making stones to guide one to or from the only haven love had. When he felt a tug, one day some months later, he looked into her realm to see what could have cause such a feeling. She had delivered her child, a boy, with silver-gold hair, and eyes that marked a Fey child. His ears were pointed, and his face was so much like his own that the King of the Fey felt his heart break. 'Twas his son, his heir, resting in his mother's arms.

"He went to her once more, demanding that she marry him and be his queen, and give their son the proper place he deserved. And she turned away, sobbing at the loss of him. He had not learned, not changed at all, not for everything that had happened to her. And she denied him once more. And so the Fey King did what they Fey do best. He sent the Goblins, the watchers that sit between their world and ours, to replace his son with a changeling goblin, one that would resemble his son, but not be his son. The little boy, his heir, was brought back to the Underground with the Fey King.

"She discovered the loss right away. This child was loud and crude and never slept quietly, as her own son had. This creature was not her son, but a changeling. She tried to tell others, tried to plead with them to help her get her little boy back. He husband simply laughed at her efforts, telling her that demon seed always bred true. It was no son of his, this foul little beast. For in all their wedded years she had never once let him touch her."

She felt her heart tearing in two, knew the anguish the woman must have felt. I wish the Goblin King would come and take you away-- right now!

Sarah's eyes began to force themselves closed, and her breathing became shallow. It was there, it was almost upon her. It was so close… Her own green eyes staring into the mirror, Toby's beanie upon her own head, she recalled that, she had been rehearsing a play… she thought… but-- Sharp, blinding pain seared through her head, making her cry out.

Ayden's hand was on her shoulder instantly, and when she opened her eyes she saw old man Duncan looking at her oddly as well. "Are ye well, lass?" Ayden's deep voice was concerned. Sometime between the middle of his tale and now the pub had begun to gather customers, and now there were some thirty-some faces looking around, some even looking upon her… And it set off the stage fright. She shook her head, willing the nausea down.

"I'm fine, I just… I just want to know how it ends. Please?"

Her plea made Duncan continue, though he thought she had heard enough. More than enough.

"The woman fled the village, stumbling around in search of the fairy ring. But the Fey King knew his love's determination, and he set many trials for her." Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered… It echoed in hr mind, her own voice, trapped in a thin, fragile silver bubble… not a bubble, her mind amended though she hurt too badly to grasp the final thread and unwind the final tapestry that covered the window to the truth.

"She found him, didn't she?" Her voice was very small.

"No, she wandered in search of him, too afraid to enter his kingdom, too afraid to fall under his rule. But he found her. When she was old and as bent as a sapling tree, he found her. For, being in the mortal realm had aged her as one, and it was keen loss and regret she saw in his eyes. She was weak, and knew she was dying. And she knew that he had either come to gloat over his victory, or he had come to make her the same offer he had always made to her.

"She knew she didn't have the strength to turn him away now, in her final hours. When he dropped to a knee, she wept, bitter, bitter tears of regret and loss. 'I have come to you, with only myself to offer. And my love.' His voice, deep and true, was all she could have ever desired. And se spoke her last words, from her heart. 'I will have it. And you will have my love, the love of a feeble, dying woman. The woman that loved you so many years ago when first I saw your face. I have never let another touch me, not even the man I pledged myself to. The last thing I will see in this world is your eyes, my love. Mo chroi.'

"His heart shattered, seeing her thus. He held her close to his heart, where she had always been. She had called him her heart, and it was only fitting that it would beat eternally, like his own heart. And when the final breath left her body he wept, and carried her with him to his kingdom where he and their son had her laid to rest. Her tomb was pure ivory, the finest funeral ever held. No one knew her but him, and so Galen the Fey King spoke of her. It was a lament of love lost, a love pure and true and right.

"'Rest well, my Miranda', the Fey King whispered, letting silent tears fall.

"Their son watched, somewhat impassive. After all, she had never found him. She was too afraid to come for him. She had loved and feared his father too much to venture into his realm."

"Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave…" Sarah whispered the words, words she knew she had heard before. Words spoken to her that she couldn't recall hearing. The old man blinked twice, slowly, and she could tell that he knew what she was talking about. It was a flash in his keen eyes.

"That is it, that is it precisely. How did you know?"

He had worn blue velvet. The touch of it under her palm sent shivers down her back. Oh, this was like a dream, all of it! She didn't understand the rushed sense of mistrust she felt. Surely she was mistaken. She wanted nothing more than to live here, to make this man's arms her home. His voice was soothing, even as it stirred unknown passions within her. Was this what her friends were talking about? Was this desire? He turned those mesmerizing eyes on her, and Sarah knew it. She knew what she felt for this man. She--

"I don't know." And sadly, her moment of clarity faded, and her words were true. She really didn't know.

Author's Note:

*What did you say to the lass to make her call out that way Duncan?

I think this is going to be my update pattern. I'll write two chapters, wait a few days, and then write a couple more. I really hope you liked the tale of Jareth's mother and father, it hit me and it wouldn't let go. Not that I really minded.

Jareth is in a bit of a state… He didn't appear at all in this chapter, and I talked about his parents. Sore subject there. Oh well, King tight-pants will live. Oops… I think he heard me, he's sulking. Might take a while to coax him out of hiding… but I think I'm up for it. All right, please don't forget to review! Jareth isn't the only one with vanity issues!!

--Chaotic Reverie