A/N) When I started writing the Jareth scene below, I was meandering with words and it ended up being some of my favorite stuff so far. What can I say? I love me some Acerbic!Jareth!

I'm updating this fairly quickly on the heels of my last update but the next installment will probably take a little more time. I'd like to keep a cushion of a couple of chapters pre-written so that I don't get stuck indefinitely. The reviews were exceedingly helpful in getting me back in the right mind-set to work on this, so thank you so much to those that took the time! To everyone else-please leave a review-they help power my muse which means that I actually FINISH this story. And there's a lot to come yet, and it's a pretty awesome ride (If I say so myself.) so please review!

Onwards with the story. And don't forget to hit the button at the bottom! ;)


"Such a Pretty Parlour"


Jareth sat in his throne room, an audience to his court, listening to any problems or issues that they sought to bring before him. Not for the first time, he wondered at why he had been forced to become King to a race who were So. Incredibly. Stupid. Goblins were the closest thing to human children that Jareth had ever come across in The Underground. They had no gift of foresight, no ability to plan for the future. It was a wonder the entire race hadn't gone the way of the mortal dodo.

"Sire, then I stoles the ring back. As it was rightly mine, since I was the one that won the bet." A screeching voice continued on in soliloquy.

"But Sire, T'was my ring, my brother had no reason to be betting it!" This screeching voice was distinctly female, and pitched high enough for Hellhounds to wince.

Jareth rubbed his hand over his brow and raised his hand to interject, "Am I to understand, Fogsbottom, that this clan war was instigated over the rightful ownership of a ring? A ring which neither you, Fogsbottom, nor you Jessupclaw, can claim true ownership since Hidesclaw claims that it is passed to firstborn female goblins in your family?"

"But Sire, I wons it fair and square! Tis MINE and them Claws Clan shouldn't be interfering with my properties!"

Jareth felt the magic well up inside of him, enough magic to blight Fogsbottom off the face of the Underground, followed swiftly by the Bottom Clan and the Claws Clan, just for being privy to such complete and utter idiocy. Sweet Gods Sake. They had destroyed an inn and a crop of perfectly good wildeberries with their "clan war" all over a ring with no value other than as a family keepsake. Undoubtedly desired by Fogsbottom just because he decided it was admiringly shiny.

Jareth released a breath and allowed the magic to settle back down. If there was ever a time that reminded him that being King of Goblins was indeed a punishment, it was during these bi-weekly court audiences. In the last month alone, he had solved a dispute with fairies over breeding territory, some squabbles over a couple of local goblin clan boundary lines, and some legitimate concerns over the Fireys migrating their fire camps too far into the Heart of the Woods. Jareth suppressed a shudder at the thought of the bodies that had been cropping up; Fireys had begun mutating before dying slow and painful deaths. Such a pity.

Jareth snapped himself from those grim thoughts and focused on the ruckus in his throne room. The two goblins had continued to squabble, while Hidesclaw clutched tight to the ring on her finger and plump tears streaked down her scraggly face.

"As King of Goblins, I decree that Hidesclaw shall keep her ring, but restitution from Jessupclaw to Fogsbottom is in order, for not only losing your bet but bartering something that rightfully belongs to your sister. You shall either pay him by helping to restore the Bottom clan's wildeberry crops or by providing enough coin for Fogsbottom to have his own ring commissioned. And BOTH clans Bottom and Claw shall spend 2 months reporting to the Castle for work, since you both destroyed an inn which rightfully belonged to the crown. You'll all help rebuild the inn, and work here, besides, until you can get it through your thick skulls that raising hell over a scrap of metal isn't just stupid, it's a bloody inconvenience. To me. And what, exactly have I drummed into the Kingdom since I became king?!"

All of the bug-eyed goblins standing beneath the throne answered in tandem, "Never be an inconvenience to the Goblin King."

Jareth leered with menace. "Or?"

Once more, they shuffled their feet and gave the answer together, like recalcitrant children. "Or we get what we deserve."

Jareth gestured toward a statue situated at the far corner of the throne room. It had the pudgy limbs and the pieced-together armor of the goblin castle guard. It was also frozen in an expression of dawning horror—one hand held out in obvious supplication.

Jareth let them all gulp and discreetly wet themselves as he drawled in velvet tones. "I was thinking of perhaps starting a new garden. Spread the word that these petty clan wars will either stop, NOW, or I shall be forced to add to my woefully small statuary collection." His smile was razor sharp. "Just one statue isn't much of a garden, you see."

The shaking mass of Bottoms and Claws slowly backed out of the throne room before scrabbling out the doorway as quickly as their boots could take them. Only one small figure remained. Hidesclaw was hunched down, in a parody of a curtsy, the trail of her tears still visible across her small cheeks.

"Thank you, Sire. This ring is all that's left of me Mum. Thank you." Jareth fought not to roll his eyes as Hidesclaw made her exit and he returned to mentally cursing his father for sending him to this abysmal kingdom.

~0o0~

Sarah had been given the run of the castle. In her time of living there she had realized some uncomfortable truths about the domicile of the Goblin King. One being that the castle was populated with invisible servants whom Jareth referred to as "Brownies." They were almost always around, listening, anticipating.

Once when Sarah had thought herself alone, she had muttered something about how much she missed the picture of Ryan that she had on her nightstand. That night, Sarah found the picture on the nightstand in a frame made from real gold. It gave her hope that perhaps the worlds could be crossed by the Brownies, offering another solution to how she might return home. Upon closer inspection, Sarah realized that it wasn't actually a picture in the frame, but instead an intricate drawing that mimicked the picture so closely that if she weren't living in a magical castle, in a magical kingdom, she would have thought it a carbon copy.

After that episode and several like it, Sarah came to the conclusion that the Brownies didn't just clean, but were in fact master-craftsman and definitely in possession of some kind of magic of their own. The realization that she was being watched every minute in the castle, definitely wasn't a happy one. The monster inside was silent for now, but often took to stalking around in the pit of her stomach. How was she supposed to do what she must if the brownies were just going to report to Jareth?

There were also a few other servants in the castle, servants that were neither goblin, nor whatever race Jareth was. She had been there for a while. The days had begun to blur together but she estimated that by a mortal standards she'd been a "guest" of the castle for about a month and a half.

A month and a half of wandering the grounds, collecting information on the castles inhabitants, and forcing herself not to fall into hysterics every time Jessie glared at her, or imperiously stomped around in bejeweled mary-janes like the princess she proclaimed to be.

Sarah found Jessie to be calculating and disdainful, a perfect foil to Jareth's own brand of haughty scorn. There was nothing left of the sensitive, sweet girl that Sarah had raised. Or if there was, Jessie certainly had no desire to show those qualities to Sarah. She was clearly resentful of Sarah's presence in the castle, and even more angry since Jareth insisted that Sarah spend all meals and every afternoon in his presence.

At first he engaged her in conversation, it was infuriating, sitting there while he quizzed her on her vacuous existence in a magical freaking castle. Was her room to her liking? Did she enjoy the gardens? He spattered his ridiculous hostess-like quizzes with insults and backward compliments, his moods going from overly inquisitive to verbally abusive at the bat of an eyelash.

Sarah smirked, she suspected that it had something to do with her non-committal one-word replies. That her response seemed to draw his ire only made it that much more delicious to her: like an icy sorbet on a hot summer day.

The monster inside was growing impatient. Reconnaissance was well and good, but Sarah had yet to find a weakness in Jareth, nor had she discovered how she might use the mysterious ability that Jareth had granted her. Surely in a world where fairies bit and rocks could answer a furry beast's call, there was a way? Speaking of. Sarah hadn't asked to leave the grounds, she had merely followed the unspoken understanding that she was to remain in the castle. She had been docile, unassuming, and purposefully empty company for Jareth whenever he requested her presence.

The Brownies were a problem she wasn't sure how to deal with. But staying silent, while amusing to watch Jareth struggle to engage her in conversation, wasn't getting anything accomplished. The flames that had ignited so brightly at Jareth's machinations had been buried under the ice she had used to survive the loss of her daughter. Because Jessie was truly lost to her and there was nothing Sarah could do; there was no Labyrinth to solve—no treasure to find—that would bring her back.

In all of the time that she had taken to despair, and to blanket that loss in an icy protective shield, she had grown accustomed to merely treading emotional water—completely neglecting to take action. It was too easy to continue along, burying her soul, forgetting her purpose. Too easy to forget the vow she had sworn on the night that she had signed her soul over to the devil. With resolution and revenge burning in her eyes, Sarah decided that it was time for a meeting with the Goblin King.

It was time to for restitution. It was time to begin her escape.