Hello dear readers! I apologize profusely for the delay in posting, but this chapter is a bit longer...I hope it makes up for the absence.

Anonymous reviews are now enabled. I didn't even know they were disabled...I can't believe that escaped me. But there you go, review to your heart's content! As always your comments fuel the fire-the more the merrier! Please enjoy chapter seven, in which we get some insight into what these two are thinking...

E. Jane


VII

Age's Garden

It sniffed at the ground around the mausoleum. The air was tainted with magic here, something new, mingled with its master's. Someone new, and strange. Dawn was breaking fast, casting long shadows of the scraggly trees over the earth, and a larger shape. Much larger. The crows refused to visit this area of the Labyrinth today for fear of being breakfast.

Tail whipping in silent agitation, it stretched the muscles on its back with longing. Its wings quivered, catching the first new rays of the day, glimmering pale green. Another snuff of its snout stirred the dirt into a large puff. Soon, soon it would be out of this prison, it would fly again-


Sarah woke up with a large amount of resentment toward the sun. She had wrestled her way out of the dress the night before and fallen asleep amidst downy-soft coverlets and pillows. Her exhausted body, and mind, weren't keen on relinquishing such comforts now that she was in a state to enjoy them.

A gentle tap tap echoed from her door. She resisted the urge to bury her head beneath the pillows and called, "Come in!" Margaret could have popped in just as easily, but was too polite to do so. Sure that the call had been heard, the girl gave in to temptation and stuck her head under a cool pillow, hoping the maid wouldn't drag her out just yet.


Jareth had paced past her door quite a few times before knocking. Several goblins wandered by, but after one unfortunate creature had been thrown out of the window for staring too long...they mostly just rustled past as fast as possible.

He looked the picture of a sleepless night. Ridiculous things had kept him awake. This little, nagging thing in his chest that was annoyingly indecisive. On the one hand he felt an emotion that was disturbingly familiar with guilt. But that couldn't possibly be, because Goblin Kings did not harbor such petty feelings . There was no need for it-every action he had ever made in his long life was thoroughly legitimate. Or, he had thought so. This side of the argument demanded that, for what it was worth, he should apologize.

On the other hand was something less an emotion and more a...desire. Gods forbid he should associate that particular word with it. Last evening his impulsive decision had been tainted very faintly with his own appetite for something devilishly, and cleverly, hidden for much too long. Sarah Williams was not the little spoiled brat anymore. Headstrong and demanding, to be sure, but more conscious of herself. The things that had intrigued him long ago were still there...things that had tempted him into plotting and scheming for the benefit of his kingdom. But now she was the woman Jareth had always hoped she would grow into, and a glimpse was offered to him of what could have been. That spark in her manner was driving him wild for something. This side of the argument demanded that he return in the dead of night and kiss her senseless until he recovered whatever eluded him.

For the most part Jareth had settled on the decision to apologize. A staunch policy of his was to regret nothing, for what's said is said and done is done. Sarah, though, would be a terribly difficult person to live with if he did not attempt to mend the situation.

The switch in his brain automatically flipped to the other end of the spectrum when he opened her door. First he saw the tangle of black material on the floor, her discarded dress, and then the pale girl herself. She was sprawled face-first into the bed, hair a rumpled, curly mess. What startled him the most were her bare shoulders and the exposed length of her back. Apparently last evening had seen her disgusted with all dresses in general, including nightdresses.

There he was again, at a crossroads. Instincts told him to spring and trail his fingers over every inch of her he could reach. But something else, deeper down, noticed the way her foot peeked out from the covers, and how one arm was carelessly flung over the side of the bed. How she had twisted the sheets around her so severely it was like a cocoon. How the weak sunlight was making her glow.

So he padded his way to the bed, waved a hand over her still form, and then crossed to the window, face harboring a cold mask of indifference.

Sarah wriggled a little when something smooth slid over her body. Tantalizingly close to sleep again, she shifted upright in her messy bed groggily and looked down. Huh...she couldn't remember putting on a nightdress. Especially not this gorgeous, pale blue one with a lace-trimmed front. She shrugged. "Margaret, where-" Clumsily Sarah choked on her words as she turned to the rest of the room. Jareth was staring out the window, his back to her, hands clasped behind. She couldn't see how the muscles in his neck were corded, as if he clenched his jaw tightly, or how his eyes surveyed the land but did not see it. "What. Are you doing in here?"

Oh, he was too tired for this. Not now. "You need some clothes."

"I..." she blinked. 'What?' her brain spluttered stupidly. No sarcasm? No quick remark? "Yes?" She struggled with the tangled blankets a moment before standing. There was still no reply, which was odd. Quietly she came to stand beside him at the window. Jareth's eyes were hooded against the rising glare, dark smudges stark against his skin. "Are you...alright?"

The Goblin King turned to her very slowly, seeming to notice her for the first time. Softly he crooked a finger under her chin. Sarah immediately became captivated by his crystalline eyes, shatters and slivers of color nonexistent Aboveground. They were deep, and liquid, and ageless orbs. It frightened her more than she would ever say.

For quite some time the two regarded each other, until Jareth quirked his mouth. "You may keep staring at me, if you like. Or you can pick something out to wear."

"I was not," she started hotly, wrenching her coloring cheeks away from him, "staring..." The sentence died as she turned. They had transported to a room, almost a hall, where racks and shelves were full of every type of clothing imaginable. At the far wall was a tiny dressing area with a settee and painted folding screen, a vanity covered with pots and jars and a large round mirror. Sarah sucked in her breath at the intricacy of some pieces, the rich colors, the decorations, the cuts-

"You may choose anything you wish. Margaret will relocate a few items to your personal wardrobe for convenience. Although," he added thoughtfully, "you will not be able to wear but one for today. Tomorrow sees us beginning our journey."

She plunged her hand into a random section. Fur. Looking more closely, she could differentiate between warmer and cooler pieces, casual(if any could be called that) and then splendidly elegant. Her fingers were currently wrapped around garments that were thick and heavy for winter. Did the Labyrinth have winter? Apparently. Only vaguely had she even heard Jareth mention the journey, so enraptured was she with these new findings. Another rack found her stroking smooth purple silk which was beaded delicately down the front. Everything she could see Sarah touched, as if trying to confirm the reality of it all. "You can't mean," she breathed, "that I can wear these?" Laces spilled over cuffs, diamonds and precious stones adorned bodices and necklines, jewelry winked happily from a nearby rack, shoes covered the floor.

"Why not? They are yours."

Her fingers halted over red brocade, hesitating, and Sarah turned around. Jareth was inspecting a light gold dress with particular care. "What?" The breathy voice did not seem to belong to her.

Gently he took the material between his fingers, rubbing experimentally. But that was ridiculous-Jareth was wearing his gloves. "These are-were-emergency garments for guests. But they are rather infrequent. New clothes can be made to your tastes...in the meantime this is all I can offer."

Sarah dropped onto the settee and stared to him at the opposite end of the room as if through a lively colored tunnel. For a moment she swivelled her head in utter bewilderment. Years ago she had fantasized about a room like this, but certainly not nearly as grand, full of fairytale clothes. Everything was precisely the kind of thing her imagination had painted over the simple skirts she wore to the park, turning a plain costume into the most romantic of apparel, or sometimes her lady-knight attire. Even that was residing in a corner of this room. It was deliciously like someone had rummaged around in her head and extracted only the fairest of things, making them solid. "But..." Jareth continued to idly pick at the gold dress. How on earth could anything ever equal this? How could she be so selfish as to ask for more? "They're perfect!"

She blinked and his posture was suddenly more erect. "I am infinitely glade you approve. Shall I send Margaret up?"

"Yes, I...she's going to have to help me pick!" she replied weakly, leaning back onto an armrest. It was the most horrifying, wonderful decision nightmare Sarah had ever encountered.

Laughter rose the left corner of the Goblin King's lips. He twisted his fingers and a crystal materialized. "Margaret."

A startled image of the woman appeared. "Your majesty?" Sarah imagined a sudden call via crystal would frighten anyone.

"Sarah requires your assistance. She will be in the closet upstairs." The bubble burst without waiting for a reply. Only then did Jareth turn to her. "I have several matters to attend to today," he said, and Sarah pulled her attention away from a choker of perfect pearls, "but I would appreciate a little of your time before dinner."

She was shocked. It almost sounded like he was asking her permission. Almost a 'please.' And, besides that, his tone was a smidgen apologetic. With a bang it hit Sarah that he could have just as easily thrown her some rags to wear and sent her to the kitchens until she was needed. The Council had only demanded she stay here, not be treated as an equal. "Of course."

Jareth nodded once and paused, perhaps to say something more, but disappeared instead, leaving her alone with a sea of royal clothes.

Sarah stood nervously and surveyed as many different items as possible. Carefully she pulled things out from the racks, then replaced them again.

Everything was women's clothes. A woman with a tiny waist, average length of leg, delicate shoulders. The measurements never varied. She slipped on one shoe, a high heel with a buckle.

Perfect.

With dawning awareness she went to a bureau and opened a drawer to find an array of undergarments. They were tasteful and brand-new looking on top, folded and placed just so. Sarah could not bear to delve farther into the deep drawer, in case...other pieces were beneath.

No way was this a guest closet. Where were the clothes for men and children? The large women who indulged in too many splendid castle meals? Something ugly should have caught her eye, but nothing did.

Finally she wandered over to the spot Jareth had been standing moments before. A faceless mannequin was wearing the dress. It was a lavish cream color stitched with patterns of gold thread. Flowers mingled with dizzying spirals and flourishes, and when she stroked it the feeling was like a petal. Someone must have sewn everything by hand...not even magic could work something so complex, could it? The neckline was squared and sleeves fell from the shoulders with slits up to the elbows that revealed pure gold. The skirt was long and full, but not cumbersome, and retained several layers of fabric.

No one had ever worn that dress. It had waited for her, she was sure of it. And it was doubtful anyone would so much as touch it in the future. This was the only dress not on the rack-it was in the open, on a tantalizing display.

Something, buried down in her gut, remembered the way Jareth had smoothed the fabric. And couldn't look at her while he did.


The Goblin King draped an elegant leg over the side of his throne. He stared moodily at the ceiling and tried to block out the noise of the goblins wreaking havoc, something he had not missed during the evacuation. The ceiling did not offer anything in the way of consolation except the passage of an occasional spit ball or string of sausages.

Sarah was too smart. She was going to figure out who the garments really belonged to and assume just how long they had been there. He had come dangerously close to telling her himself...but why ruin the moment of pure bliss on her face? She would only have refused them and spat at him, damn it all-

Jareth grabbed a random goblin, who had strayed a little too near to the throne, and tossed him into a drunken group. They were momentarily confused by its flailing arms, which sent them tumbling to the ground, but then broke out in raucous laughter and began to brawl good-naturedly. A horde of others congregated to watch, highly amused. Some even tossed themselves in for good measure.

He couldn't win, Jareth decided sourly. The only kisses they'd shared were short, stolen, and unrequited. Any contact was out of necessity or desperation. It shouldn't trouble him so much, really. Perhaps it was merely the fact that every other woman he had barely spared a glance for wanted to lavish him with affection. Not that he had looked at any other woman for six years, or thirteen, depending which world you were in... But no. Jareth was not fooling anybody, least of all himself. The closet was more than enough proof of that.

A passing chicken squawked loudly when a larger goblin attempted to straddle and rein it with a piece of string. The bird collapsed under the weight unpleasantly.

Jareth ground his teeth and let his head fall limp over the other armrest. The chaotic view of his disastrously embarrassing throne room was no better upside down. Why had his ancestor been fascinated with goblins, of all things? He couldn't have picked something intelligent, or even remotely quiet. Goblins probably could not even spell 'quiet.' And for the love of the Underground-why did they swarm to his throne room? At least the ale helped to pacify their blundering actions slightly.

There was work to do. Arrangements for the impending journey, besides the regular duties. Inspections of the city and Labyrinth after the citizens had returned. Paperwork, probably. But the thought of Sarah, donning one of her outfits, finally, drove the motivation from his mind.

Furthermore, their little before-dinner discussion might cause her to never speak again.

He grimaced when a goblin, wearing a crooked helmet adorned with horns, flew through the air inches from his face. And missed. What a pity.


It was the kind of dress you never wanted to take off. She would have slept in it, bathed in it, lived in it. One, she looked amazing. It fairly transformed her body from flesh into an enticing dream. Two, it was a million times more comfortable than the devil dress from the previous evening. No corset was involved, thank the good Lord. Instead buttons traveled the length of her spine. Three...

The garment was tailored to her every whim. Sarah was not shocked any longer-she was far beyond shock, into a dull kind of numb acceptance. You could have poured the dress on, and it wouldn't have fit better. She wasn't sure how he had done it-magic, most likely-but she was willing to bet the other clothes were the same.

Some part of her was touched that he had obviously devoted so much time and energy into all of these things. For her. It had to be, there was no other logical explanation. She couldn't find a single flaw in anything, though she had tried. But another part of her was disgusted. He had been arrogant enough to assume her beaten, finished. And he had already prepared things for her stay.

Cocky bastard.

What would he have done with her, had she lost? Sarah brushed the dusky purple fabric, so dark it was nearly black, over her hips lightly. Such finery would not have suited an oubliette. Toby...would have been his heir. And her? His pet? Certainly nothing more than a pretty accessory for his arm, something to show off. A conquest to flaunt in the faces of other nobles.

Margaret was fixing her hair into an elaborate upsweep in front of the vanity. Sarah had wanted to try the gold dress on, just to see how it looked, but the maid had paled and insisted that another would be far prettier. It was gorgeous, to be sure-a plunging neckline of the rich plum fabric sharpened the paleness of her skin and caused her eyes to twinkle. The off-shoulder bit was a little more risque than she would have thought royal clothes to be, but it suited her, as did the pleated skirt.

The realization knifed her as Margaret was placing a pin in her hair. Last night, Larimon had said it would not have worked. Toby could never have become Jareth's rightful heir. Then she...

'I was his insurance,' Sarah thought. 'In case his plan failed...I could produce little legitimate Goblin Kings-'

The maid cried in surprise as Sarah jumped up from the small chair. "Wait! Sarah, I'm not finished!" The girl had bunched the skirt in her hands and was dashing for the only door. Margaret's face fell, a few last pins in her fingers. "No! Don't go in-"

Sarah threw the door wide and prepared to race in the first direction she thought would lead her to Jareth. But there was no corridor beyond the closet.

There was a room.

A room as large as three or four of her own, with twenty-foot ceilings. Floor-to-ceiling doors of sparkling glass were set in one wall that opened onto a wrapping balcony, blue sky piled with fluffy clouds floating through, sunlight pouring in. There was an absurdly enormous bed piled with white silken sheets and red drapes tied back to bedposts. It lounged in sinful decadence on a raised part of the floor, which was shiny wood strewn with lush rugs. The walls were covered in sculpted moldings, faint swirling designs of gold and silver paint, and ornaments of rarity and beauty.

She walked to the center of the room and spun in place, moving away from Margaret so that she would not be transported. Not yet. Farther back she could see the closet she had sprung from, and it's twin right next to it.

The doors were a warm oak carved with rich, handsome designs. On the one she had fled was a raven over a sun with the rays extending to the edges. The raven's eyes were intelligent, flickering emerald chips. The other, the raven's partner, was an owl set over the moon. An owl with sapphire eyes.

His and Hers closets.

Margaret looked mortified. She had caught the king's hidden meaning when he referred to the 'upstairs closet' rather that his personal chambers. Obviously he had not wanted the girl to know quite yet. Too late, she thought sadly, watching Sarah take it all in.

"Oh...my God." She would have sat there in the floor if Margaret had not chose that moment to step up and lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Sarah? Are you alright?"

Blank eyes turned to the maid. Her mouth was dry. "No." But she was already moving toward the second door. 'Let this be a mistake, let me be wrong about everything-'

With a yank the owl's door pulled open. Sarah ignored the reproving look it's jeweled eyes seemed to send her. She needed proof, real proof that this was true, and there was certainly an eyeful of it before her.

Dazzling coats, breeches, boots, shirts were arranged in a similar fashion to hers. Magnificent silks and leather-

Sarah shut the door with a snap once her gaze found the jacket encrusted with twinkling diamonds of blue. Her heart was in an uncomfortable position, stuck in her throat, and she rounded on the maid. "Out."

Margaret blinked back the hurt expression on her face. "What?"

"I need out of here! Take me...to him. Now." The reply was clenched tight, barely audible with Sarah's stiff jaw. Her hands were balled to hidden fists in her skirt.

"I...alright," she sighed. There was no way to comfort the poor girl now, it seemed. She hoped her king was ready for a confrontation of devastating proportions.


The crystal rolled over his knuckles, around his wrist, into his palm, and up to his fingertips. Inside the image wasn't very promising. Not at all.

"Brock, are you certain?" Jareth's brow was creased.

"Yes, your majesty. Reports have been pouring in to us-that is the location of the new vein."

Jareth swore a handful of colorful Underground expletives before letting the image of the snow-covered mountains burst in his hand. "Right in the Shadowed Pass. Luck would have it that way," he groused.

Both stared dejectedly at the throne room, empty for a few precious moments. The goblins had scattered after their king gave them a monstrous bog threatening. They would return within the hour.

"Perhaps an inspection of the Labyrinth is in order," Jareth continued when there was no reply from Brock. "See to things, will you?"

A nod from his general was all he needed before striding to the window. Seconds after a snowy owl had dropped from the sill, diving straight for the ground, the doors to the throne room burst open and Sarah crashed inside, yelling, "Where is he?" A sweep of the room showed no sign of the king, so she turned to a surprised Brock and demanded, "Where's the Goblin King? I need to give him a piece of my-"

Margaret bustled in right after looking strained. She shot him an apologetic look before turning to the girl. "Please, Sarah, calm down!"

"He isn't here," Brock offered. Sarah's questioning look and mouth, which was opening to a wide and angry hole, prompted him to point a finger to the window. "The king has gone to inspect the Labyrinth and see that all citizens are satisfied with their dwellings."

The general and maid gave looks of alarm as Sarah, skirts in hand, flew from the room. Jareth was not going to get away from her that easily, ho, no. If she had to solve the Labyrinth again she would, just to strangle him-

Down a spiraling staircase she thundered, through the entrance hall and to the heavy metal doors. They opened easily at her touch and the iron chains rattled. A few steps saw the girl at the base of the castle, like a looming mountain, with the Goblin City at its feet. Just like last time the streets were empty and deserted. But it was doubtful the houses were vacant-Sarah thought she caught a few twinkling eyes at darkened windows as she ran past.

Navigating between sloping houses and narrow alleys, the doors to the Labyrinth sprang up before her. Relieved at having found them at all, Sarah ran and pushed with all her might. They didn't budge.

"Hello?" she tried, not really sure who she was talking to. "Yes-I need to get into the Labyrinth. Could you open?" After a few moments of nothing Sarah tried the doors a second time. Solid. "I am Sarah Williams, your champion. Allow me entrance so that I may find who I seek." Now her voice was impatient and commanding. Jareth seemed to have damaged her nerves with the strain of the last few days, yesterday night and this morning in particular.

Creaky and dusty, the doors began to swing open into the Labyrinth while crumbles of old dirt fell away. And where Sarah had expected a junkyard, piles and piles of discarded dreams, rubbish, and trash, there was only the hedge maze.

"What? This can't be right!" Not exactly sure she had the strength, but unwilling to succumb to the Labyrinth's tricks, Sarah pulled on the edges of the door. Seeming to sense her motions they swung closed again with a snap. "Er...that was the Labyrinth, yes..." This idea was just a tad stupid. But the maze switched and changed, didn't it? "Could you show me the part of the Labyrinth that the Goblin King is currently in? Please?" she added for good measure.

This time the doors swung open easily without any effort from Sarah. And beyond was an area of the Labyrinth that she herself had never traversed. She regretted that fact immediately, because before her was not the stone maze, the fiery forest, or even the endless corridor. It was a garden made completely of red flowers. Some were large and almost leafy, others had tight curling feelers and exotic spikes. Cherry, scarlet, ruby, burgundy, cardinal, maroon, magenta, vermillion. They were all here. Every red imaginable, and some more extravagant than thought. The only item that kept her eyes from swimming with the vivid colors was smack in the middle of the place.

A sundial of pure white marble stood tall and erect. It only cast a small shadow, but that was because the sun was climbing higher and higher into the sky. Carefully she approached and dared a look at the face. Thirteen numerals surrounded the smooth circle, and a sliver of a shadow cast to show the time. The piece was certainly beautiful in simplicity, and worthy of study, but Sarah had not forgotten her anger. Where was Jareth?

Looking quickly around the small enclosure, walls and ground alike covered with the red flowers, save the stone path, she found a small opening in one corner. Quickly she bunched her skirts up and moved that way.

Sarah blinked fiercely to adjust her eyes to the new color. Everywhere were blues, in as many varying shapes as the red. Another sundial perched in the center here, and she stepped up to read it. Strange...this one only had seven numerals. Ah, that must be for days of the week. But how could the sun measure that? Quizzically she looked to the sky, but it did not offer her any answers. So she shrugged and found the next opening in the wall.

Orange, yellow, purple...twenty minutes later Sarah was hopelessly lost and confused. Every different part of the garden contained a distinct color and sundial. But every sundial was different. One seemed to be for the seasons, another for months of the year, another still the actual year...each one, save the first from the place of red flowers, seemed amazingly impossible. It kept a few self-reminders for Sarah to jolt herself away from the puzzle and continue her search.

An hour into the garden-maze she was tired, hot, and her hair had fallen from the pins, but there was a blessed bench to sit on...

With a huff Sarah situated herself on the bench in the green portion of the garden. Here everything simply looked leafy, although some plants actually were flowers. Her dark dress stood out in deep contrast to the strange environment. Bleakly she wondered if this particular trial of the Labyrinth was endless. Nothing seemed to live here, except for the flowers, and they weren't much help when it came to asking for directions. Maybe she could call Jareth...should she have done that in the first place, at the castle? No. This showdown needed a little privacy, away from Margaret and Brock, away from the impending surge of drunken goblins.

She shook her head at his audacity. It all made a sick sort of sense now. The closet had been the breaking point for sure, making it very clear his intentions six years earlier were quite binding and absolute. And that dress...was no ordinary dress. The garment was unmistakably a wedding gown. Sarah shivered at the thought of being married to the Goblin King at fifteen. Just because he had been the epitome of her girlish fantasies did not make it right. To wake up to him every morning, merely a child, would have horrified her...she had only been breaking into womanhood then.

What about now, when she wasa woman? A very young one, at twenty-one, but still. Jareth was dangerously beautiful, elegant, and could send shivers down her spine with a single look. It had not escaped Sarah what kind of effect his nearness had on her, and she on him. But perhaps that was just the fact of nature? Boy meets girl. Instincts take over to ensure the continuance of life. Right?

Then why had no other man tasted as spicy and electric as Jareth?

Ok, not the issue at hand.

She really, really hated to think that he would have made such advances when she was so young. Only days before he had been quite tender. 'Don't I sound real? Don't I feel real?'And Billy Stagton would have committed terrible acts without his intervention. He had saved her from the darkness, albeit with an immortal twist, and nearly wrung himself for it. So why did he feel the need to corner her with kisses on the sly? Well...perhaps that was simply Jareth. The most pressing question, really, was why her? Why Sarah and Toby Williams? Any other mortal children would have done, and there had been quite a few to lose to his Labyrinth if she was the only Champion.

Thump.

Sarah blinked up from her feet and turned to the opening, where gold and silver flowers peeked through. The ground had just shook.

Thump. Thump. Wack!

She sprang from the bench and ducked behind a taller bush. Something, something huge, had just struck the wall near the opening. It had quivered and rustled and bent quite ominously. There was colossal trouble just behind it. Her hiding place was more or less cramped and dirty, but surely the dress could be washed. She hoped so... Sarah could kill herself for ruining such a piece of artwork. As much as she was confused and angry with Jareth, the dresses themselves had not done anything wrong.

It wouldbe just her luck for Jareth to walk in at that exact moment from the purple section of the garden and pass the bush without noticing her. He didn't seem to have heard the thumping or wacking noises at all, but instincts told her that it was wrong to just let him walk toward danger. She should have...for what Sarah had discovered that morning, something could swallow him alive for all she cared. But she was a reflexive guardian at all times-saving kittens in the gutter, herding kids out of the street. So she grabbed a fistful of his leather coattails as the king sauntered by, gave a yank, and sent him tumbling down with her behind the bush.

His almighty exclamation of surprise was put to an abrupt halt when Sarah smacked a hand over his mouth. Jareth tumbled into her slightly, only just catching himself with a hand planted behind her, and let his mismatched eyes go slightly narrow. Sarah shook her head in warning and pointed to the wall.

Thump thump wack thump.

Ignoring her desperate soundless pleas for evacuation, Jareth let his eyes widen at her figure. Of all the dresses she could have picked, this one was quite daring. This girl was begging to play with fire, teasing this strange hunger in him... If it wasn't for the fact that he had started kissing her palm, Sarah would have let the noise distract her thoroughly and continued with her waving motions toward the exit.

But then his mouth started...Oh my God...

Her sharp inhalation of breath, hissed through her teeth, sent the feel of his lips smirking upward, and Sarah's body seemed to have frozen solid. A breeze had picked up, restrained to the area immediately around them. Suddenly it was very impossible for her to simply jerk away-

The largest thump yet sent the ground rolling beneath them, and Jareth, who was only braced precariously on one hand, tumbled into poor immobile Sarah. A dull thud told her that the force of his body had sent her falling back onto the ground where her head met dirt. The slithering noise, like scales sliding over rocks and leaves, alerted them to movement just around the bush. To Sarah's horror, Jareth didn't seem troubled by the sound at all. He was admiring the view from where his chin was resting comfortably on her stomach, and said far too loudly, "My dear, how kind of you to come looking for me. But wouldn't you like to continue in a more..." His gaze swept around to the shrubbery. "...enclosed space?"

Voice seeming to have momentarily abandoned her, Sarah scowled and whapped Jareth upside the head.

He winced, but the hurt look was not at all convincing when coupled with the dazzling grin. "You're right, of course." Contentedly he settled his chin back onto her stomach. "Here is just fine."

Their only concealment was ripped up forcibly and sent a shower of dirt raining around them. Sarah yelled and clawed the clumps from her eyes, spitting and sneezing clods of dirt, before being able to see properly.

And then she screamed.

"Jareth! Jareth, a...a..." Pointing stupidly up with one hand and clutching a handful of Jareth's hair with the other, she took in the beast looming above them, munching happily on the bush.

"Easy, love," he reprimanded, prying her hand out of his hair and sitting up. Gently he took her shaking finger, still pointed accusingly heavenward, and pulled her up to sit beside him. "It's all very good and well to be shocked, Sarah, but some of them are omnivores."

She turned to him with the most disbelieving look he had ever received. "That's not...a dragon, Jareth?!" Hysterically she grabbed the leather lapels of his coat and gave him a shake. "A dragon!" Then she seemed to remember that the object of the conversation was peering down at them.

"I had hoped," he sighed, "to reveal this little piece of information before dinner, but my plans have been thwarted. As usual." Effortlessly he rose and all the dirt seemed to drop away from his person. Quietly he pulled Sarah up, rested his hands on her shoulders as a hindrance to escape, and spun her to face the dragon.

The smallest "eep" escaped her as the beast lowered his massive head. The large golden eyes, slitted pupils eerily shifting, surveyed the length of her critically. A snuff from his snout sent her recoiling back into Jareth. "Goblin King..."

"He's perfectly tame," he boasted. "So tame, in fact, that he roams the Labyrinth at will. Some magic binds him to the land so that he does not fly away, of course."

"Yeah, sure," Sarah mumbled. "Omnivore...it eats plants and animals?"

"Sarah," Jareth chided in her ear. "Not afraid, are you?"

Forgetting the monster towering over them, she recalled what had gotten her lost here in the first place. "I most certainly am not afraid," she hissed, wrenching her shoulders free of his hands and stepping away. It was good, though, that the pull sent her away from both Jareth and the dragon. "What I am is -" Involuntarily she choked as the dragon snaked its graceful neck in her direction, curiously tilting its head her way. The word "livid" never reached his ears. Strange how almost any emotions concerning the Goblin King-confusion, annoyance, hurt, desperation-all ended up coming out as anger.

"Go on," he nodded to the beast. "I believe he wants a bit of your attention."

"Attention?" Sarah squeaked, stiffening. "Jareth, he's looking at me like I'm a very tasty snack..."

The Goblin King shook his head and came to stand beside the dragon. The animal was so large, dwarfing them completely, that he looked like a child at its claws. But he smoothed one gloved hand over its green neck easily, just as if he were petting a horse. Sarah took a moment to study the creature while it was occupied with Jareth. Really, it was magnificent with the ridged back and whipping tail. Every part of it was sleek and deadly, the sun shining all of the scales to a reflective new-leaf green. And almost hidden, so neatly were they tucked, was a pair of shimmering wings. He almost blended into his surroundings like a chameleon.

Captivated, Sarah wanted nothing more than to stroke the beast as Jareth was. He just looked so incredibly fierce, though...she was willing to bet on numerous rows of spiked teeth in the jaw.

Jareth looked to her again and noted her intrigued, if wary, stare. He removed himself from the dragon and beckoned her over. "I won't let him hurt you," he tried in his softest voice, coming to stand behind her again when she refused to move. "You helped me drive a sword through the debris of Hell...surely a dragon is a little thing?" The chuckle was what did it, he thought, as Sarah turned to give him her deadliest stare.

"Surely."

Carefully, slow and steady, she reached forward a few fingers and smoothed several green scales. A noise erupted from the dragon's throat and she jerked her hand away.

"No," Jareth laughed, capturing her hand, "he is not growling at you. Watch." Then he guided her palm back over the scales with his own fingers. "He's purring at you."

Sarah blinked rapidly when she felt the vibrations shiver through her skin. "They can purr?" The look she gave him was pure amazement. But Jareth was absorbed with the picture of Sarah's hand under his own, stroking the beast.

"Among other things." He blinked a few times himself before pressing her hand more firmly to the dragon and removing his own. "Perhaps it is a good thing for you to become acquainted before tomorrow."

"That's right," she thought aloud. "We have to leave tomorrow. Don't worry," Sarah said, speaking directly to the dragon, "I'll make regular visits afterward, alright? It might be nice, having a big tough guy like you around." That thought made her laugh a little. Maybe every time Jareth did something to piss her off...

A grunt made her turn back to the Goblin King. He was frowning rather angrily in her direction. "I would have thought one capable guardian to be enough, especially when I can perform magic."

Wrinkling her forehead, Sarah asked, "What?"

"But I do not think you understand. This creature is to be our mode of transportation on the journey," he continued, waving his hand at the beast.

"What?" she repeated louder. "You want me to ride a dragon?" Her gaze flickered uncertainly between the two. "Why?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "What did you expect? Horses? We need to reach the new rift, and fast." Sarah thought she could detect a certain amount of stiffness as he circled her and the dragon. "Speaking of preparations for the journey...it seems some weaponry is in order."

Sliding her hand from the dragon, she walked around to its other side to see him examining a wicked green flower. It was similar to a flytrap. "What sort of weapons?"

A small smile lit up Jareth's eyes as he turned back to Sarah, letting his gaze travel the length of her body, then halt at her sharp emerald eyes. "The cruelest kind."