A/N: Well this is it, isn't it? The big birthday Ballooza. Sarah's Shindig. The old whoopadoodee. Throwdown to the hoe down, if you catch my meaning.

In other news: Dress up is so much fun! I went to a costume party dressed up as the Goblin Queen (With like, a random costume change midway through the night) and was asked if I worked for a professional porn company. Pretty flattering, really. And gross now that I think about it.

Anyway, I don't own any of the characters, apart from Marcel *Winks at Marcel.*

The Kingdom of Underground was overjoyed! The palace was filled with laughter and merriment that the walls had not held in over fifteen years. It's Princess had been returned, which meant a grand celebration, and in two days time she was to have a ball in her honour of her sixteenth birthday, which meant another grand celebration. The citizens of the kingdom held no doubt that it would be at this ball that the Princess would meet her handsome, future husband, which would mean an engagement and a further grand celebration. Soon they would be married (Marriages, or as they are better known, grand celebrations, usually lasted about a good week, even up to a month or so if you could manage to keep the ale flowing). If all went according to plan, by the time she was seventeen, The Princess Sarah would be with at least her first, if not second child, which would mean at least another three grand celebrations. It looked like there was a strong chance that with all these grand celebrations, everyone would be to drunk to prepare for the upcoming winter by harvesting the crops but on the positive side no-one would freeze to death either because of the blood to alcohol ratio. Now all they had to worry about was starvation and the plague, which was quite a comforting thought for them.

The only one who should have been worrying at the moment in time was a certain King of the Goblin's. The entire castle was cleaning itself in preparation for the new Queen. Over half the castle was already drunk from celebrating, the other half had passed out in small puddles of glittering goblin piss and low quality ale at least a week ago. It did not matter. The work was complete. Their rooms finished, everything and been thought of down to the last throw cushion. In two days he would place his heart in his love's hands, she would accept him, he would gather her in his arms and then...

The King's lip curled at the thought that followed. The Labyrinth was already buzzing with the news of the girl who The Goblin King planned to wed, bed and then make his Queen. Everything would go according to plan. Why should he worry?

Why should anyone worry?

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The Lady Irene was severely worried. Where was he? She thought for atleast the fifth time this minute as she tapped a heeled shoes anxiously against the ballroom floor, the sound bouncing off the high arches of the mosaqued ceiling. Lady Irene had taken the young Princess down here because she'd organised a dance partner for her to practise with. Some neighbouring Baron or Prince or something, who was eager to impress.

Irene gnawed of a highly manicured finger nail anxiously, the simpleton hadn't even bothered showing up!

It was less than forty-eight hours until the summer solstice and the situation wasn't looking any better than it had been three days ago.

The new Queen regarded the adolescent twirling about in front of her. Irene had to admit that now she had her hair pinned back, and proper attire on, she didn't look quite as child-like. She truly did look stunning. It all came down to her fine boned face, and maybe the fact that she was gifted with eternal beauty.

The Princess's bare feet (The lady Irene prevented her teeth from gritting, she didn't need anymore headaches, what with the Prince fiasco already this morning) seemed to float across the intricately tiled floor, pale blue dress rippling serenely in the fresh breeze. Irene had hoped that the brisk air would snap the girl out of her fanciful state but she had remained almost stubbornly persistent with her head in the clouds.

The woman shivered, pulling her robes closer to block out the cool air, she had just gotten cold instead. Irene sighed exhaustedly as she watched the soft, dreamy smile that flittered on the girl's carefree face. What she wouldn't give to go back to that age.

Irene halted the tapping of her foot. The noise was bringing on another headache.

Where was that boy? Pinching the bridge of her nose, The Lady Irene called the girl's dance to a stop. At the child's look of confusion, Irene felt the overwhelming need to explain why she sounding so disapproving. The last thing she wanted to be painted as was the wicked step-mother. Seriously, she thought, rolling her eyes, just look how that ship went down with that Cinder's girl's step-mother.

The girl stood her ground, chin tilted proudly.

"Is there an issue,"

She added a respectful "M'lady?" at the end.

"You're a good dancer, an excellent one even! it's just... The court won't approve."

The girl thrust her fists on her hips.

"Why not?" She demanded.

'You look too free!' The Lady Irene went to answer sharply, when the thought struck her. Why couldn't she be free? Wouldn't it be glorious if she could just remain a sweet faced child forever?

The child coughed, loudly.

"Why doesn't the court approve of dancing, Irene?" A look of confused hurt had flashed across the child's face. Thoughts flickered at random though her head. How would she explain this one? Was everything ready for tomorrow? Would there be enough alcohol so at least if the child committed an error, everyone would be to intoxicated to remember? At least she had finally gotten the name right, a sliver of her grumbled.

"The court wouldn't approve because..."

Irene desperately searched for an answer.

"It's because you have a very... Seelie... style of dancing. None of the men here tomorrow night will have been taught in that style."

The girl tapped her chin, eyes narrowed thoughtfully,

"That's fine, I suppose. I'll just dance with the fae instead."

Irene barked a laugh but smothered it hastily when she saw the girl wasn't joking.

"Child... Did no-one... tell you?"

"Tell me what?" she asked in a steely, quiet voice.

Irene suddenly felt incredibly small in the vast ballroom.

"Fae aren't welcome to these sorts of things. What with the war and man's introduction to iron. It's just... Not the away, these things are done."

The woman watched uncomfortably as her stepdaughter's went from angry to crestfallen faster than she could have said, 'improper.'

"Oh." The whole child sagged and her legs gave way to the floor until she was sprawled on the ground like a broken doll. She didn't seem to be hurt, just exceedingly vacant.

"I see." She continued in a deflated manner.

The Lady Irene felt a sharp pain pierce her head as if she was intruding on something very personal as she watched the child fiddle with the fine hem of her skirt.

"Chil- uh, Sarah," Irene thought about taking the girl's hand but didn't want to push it. Instead she gently placed her hand on the distressed girl's dress, before continuing,

"I instructed someone to come here to help you with your dancing and he hasn't shown up yet. I'm going to check with guard and see if anyone has come through the gates yet."

The girl nodded, shuttering her sweet, green, glazed over eyes.

"Okay. I'm going to sit here for a moment." The child forced out stiffly.

Once she was certain that the girl wasn't a danger to herself, Irene hurried out of the room as fast as her heels would let her, not pausing until the door swung shut behind her. Leaning her throbbing head against the grain of the door, The Lady Irene let out a groan until her eyes cleared and the hallway stopped spinning.

With a hard sigh, she realised she should go and see if the boy had arrived. She started off down the long corridor, lined with the armour of many ages until a shriek pierced.

Sarah's shriek!

"You're horrible! Why would you do that to such a sweet innocent thing!?" Her horrified voice wafted down the hallway.

Irene's heart raced as cruel laughter came in response.

Hobbling back quickly and ignoring the pain it bought her feet, Irene pressed a beady eye against the keyhole in the ballroom's door, wincing as the cold metal bit into her face. If she strained, Irene could just make out the form of someone leering over her stepdaughter.

"Forest maiden! You should be impressed! It is rare for a true man," At this remark the child thrust out his pelvis awkwardly, "to get close to a unicorn, let alone be able to slay the beast."

"You said it was Golden!" She accused angrily.

"Yeah. What of it?" Came the indignant reply

"If it's a golden unicorn, then it is still only a foal! It wouldn't have been able to detect your foul reek, you half-baked ignoramus!"

The sound of a sharp slap rang out across the ballroom, sending Irene reeling against the floor in horror.

A strange sensation of a burning anger flowed through her. Never in all her years! She mind could barely comprehend what had happened. The boy had struck the Princess! Irene was tempted to run for the guards but she didn't want the situation to get any worse while she was absent.

"You, tree..." The boy searched for an insult in his minuscule brain,

"Tree Wench," He announced a triumphant smirk smeared across his face,

"You, tree wench, will address me by my proper title. I am the Prince Phillip of Bristonia, slayer of unicorns and other terrifying creatures. I will allow you to kneel before me any grovel at my feet for your insolence. If you look good there, then I'll look into getting you a more permeant position, on your kneels, begging for my mercy."

Irene scrambled to her feet as the awkward pause settled in the air.

"That was a lewd joke." he explained at the blank look,

"Sexual reference, you could say. You may not understand this, because you grew up in a forest. So I'll use small words. I. Want. You. To. Warm. My. Bed. So I can have a little fun after I've married the old ice Princess they've kept locked up here."

Peering back through the lock, Irene saw a look fixed on the Princess' face which was exceedingly familiar. She had clenched her jaw, and was glaring at the Prince through narrowed eyes, chin set a determined angle.

"Prince Phillip?" She sneered, drawing herself to her full height, a whole two inches taller than the boy (And he was wearing heeled boots).

"Charmed, I'm sure. Allow me to make my own introductions as I do not have my valet here to do so for me."

She had begun making slow vulture like circles around the boy, bare feet completely silent against the floor. Her circling would occasionally pause to tut disapprovingly or roll her eyes.

"I am The Princess Sarah. Daughter of High King Robert of Underground, who sire's from William the Vanquisher, First King of Underground, who graced your great uncle with his measly patch of land, known as Bristonia." She spat distastefully.

"Blessed at birth with incomparable beauty, voice, and wandering heart, I was raised by the gate keeper of the Labyrinth beyond the Wild lands, A knight of old, who single handedly bought down half the goblin army and a child of the earth, who ground the other half of the army into dust."

By this time, the snivelling boys mouth hung open wide enough, so that if Irene had felt the sudden urge to sock him in the face, then all his teeth would have fallen out. Sarah however hadn't finished.

"I am the companion of high Fae lords. Since I was three days old I have owned the heart of the mighty Goblin King and you, a mere boy, think that I would stoop so low as to warm your bed."

The young woman threw back her head and laughed cruelly.

"Why would I? I cannot marry you for land, for my kingdom is far greater than yours, For power? Nay child, your breath is still tainted with your mother's milk. It is clear that I have the greater will power. So I am done with you."

The girl stopped her circling, and stood in front of the boy, gathering her skirt up in her hands.

"Courtesy would ask for you to kiss my hand, but there's not enough soap in the kingdom for me to even consider that. However allow me to return you a favour."

It happened so quickly that had Irene blinked, she would have missed it. Throwing her whole body into it, Sarah raked her nails across the boy's greasy skin.

Prince Phillip reeled backwards, before stumbling in his heeled boots, arms wheeling about like a windmill and landing on his face with a sickening crunch, three scratches blooming crimson along his face.

"I bid you a sweet farewell, young Prince."

She curtsied mockingly to the whimpering boy twitching on the ground, before storming to the nearest exit, which just happened to be the door the Lady Irene had crouched behind.

The woman barely had time to jump out of the way before the girl angrily stormed through the door, cursing under her breath.

"The nerve of him... Honestly should be thankful I didn't... Spanking me like some misbehaving animal... Oh the poor Unicorn."

Figuring that she should get some distance between the Prince and the Princess, The lady Irene hurriedly led the willing Sarah, through numerous winding corridors and down countless flights of stairs until they finally reached the kitchen. After setting her down at a table and pressing a cold wash clothe on her cheek, Irene felt that the girl may have stopped fuming enough to talk to her.

"My dear," Sarah looked up at the Queen with large, guilt ridden eyes.

"Are you alright?"

The girl swallowed down some water from a mug that had been set beside her before nodding. She was trying her best not to look into her step-mother's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Irene. I didn't mean to go so far, but he pushed me until I-I... This is all my fault. He was supposed to be my suitor. I was supposed to unite our Kingdoms. Oh I knew I wouldn't be up for this princess thing." The girl flinched away when Irene leaned forward and fondly patted her hand Instead of being scolded like the child clearly expected. An involuntary smile had begun to pull at the woman's lips.

"I am not saying that I would want you to perform that behaviour in front of the entire court tomorrow but that boy needed to learn that one shouldn't through chairs in a crystal ballroom and not expect to get cut."

For the first time Irene saw Sarah's real smile, and she felt as if she must have been doing something right in her life. Irene felt Sarah gave the hand clasping her's a gentle squeeze.

"Thank-you Irene. I think that one day I'll be proud to call you my mother."

"And maybe one day, I'll be just as proud to call you my daughter."

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Sarah hadn't eaten in the last 22 hours, 47 minutes and 54 seconds. Not that she was counting or anything, she reassured herself, towelling down her long, damp hair. Her stomach grumbled painfully to inform her otherwise.

"Ooh, shut up you." She growled at the offending organ. It promptly ignored her by making the sound of a mating whale.

Kare- um Irene, she internally corrected herself, and an army of maids bustled in holding mountains of rich fabric, jewels, rings, necklaces, lipstick, eyeshadow, underwires, overwires, inbetween wires, compacters, expanders, bodices, corsets, silk stockings, et cetera, et cetera. The whole cavalry. Sarah was quite sure that everything except the mothballs had been taken from the royal closet.

"Who are you talking to, little madame?"

Sarah attempted to appear nonchalant in her bathrobe with hair still dripping in her face.

"Myself."

"First sign of madness, I always say." Irene nodded conspiratorially, quickly striping her down and letting the maids have at her.

Sarah merely squeaked as a maid who had just laced up her corset gave a a firm tug, resulting in Sarah keeling to her left in an attempt to relocate her spleen, which had been lost in the tightening procedure.

"Sorry Miss." The young girl said sympathetically. Sarah waved a hand in the air as an acceptance of the apology. Her lungs were still to compressed for her to wheeze a reply yet.

"At any rate, we're running terribly behind schedule. The ball is in three hours and you're still here like this."

Sarah's stepmother gestured at the girl's reflection, who looked rather bedraggled and uncomfortable. The maids rushed around back and forth frantically in the background

"Alright, alright. I'll let you have your fun but after this, I get to eat, correct?" Karen laughed as an older woman who Sarah had never seen before in her life began to pad some intimate places.

"Oh no!" She said as Sarah slapped the prying hands away, "You must NEVER eat before a ball! It will ruin your figure!"

"And if I faint from lack of food?" She asked as at least three maid brusquely pulled the green material of her dress over her head.

"You'll appear more feminine." Irene replied curtly turning to face the Princess.

"Not bad." She murmured approvingly, cupping Sarah's face in her hand and turning it so she could see the girls features in a better light.

"Not bad at all." She said again, eyeing Sarah as an artist might eye a blank canvas. Or how she'd probably eye off a piece any kind of food right about now, Sarah thought glumly to herself.

Irene had begun talking again and Sarah forced herself to pay attention, but it was quite hard with her head going light from hunger.

"What we need, is something light, but in enhancing. Mature but not as if she's just come back from a stroll in the red lamp district." She added hurriedly at the end to the nodding maid, "Whimsical and with a sense of wonder but not overly so. Something that flatters the figure but not enticing enough that that old King, Henry, feels the need for a new child wife."

The maid tutted disgustedly in agreement.

"What is this now? His sixth? He's well into his 50's now." She asked disdainfully as she artfully yanked at Sarah's hair, drawing a yelp from the girl.

Irene muttered something in agreement but Sarah's eyes were watering to much from the stinging in her scalp for her to pay much attention to them. Fortunately they hadn't applied her mascara yet or else there would be dark smudges under her eyes.

The Queen continued to gossip with the maid who had begun to pin up think coils of hair. The pins scrapped painfully across Sarah's head but she knew calling out would be considered quite weak, so she kept her mouth firmly shut.

Men thought they had it tough going out to slay dragons? Little did they know the agony the fair Princesses they were rescuing went through to look her best.

Somewhere along the line, the maid had pulled out around a dozen tea coloured roses and had begun weaving them through her brown hair to create a crown. Sarah appreciated the contrast her hair made with the pale flowers for a moment before her stomach dropped with the realisation that she was wearing a crown and there was a lot riding on her success as a part of the royal family this evening.

She quickly forgot all about food and was just thankful she hadn't eaten in the past 23 hours or she would have certainly thrown up all over the floaty material of the green dress.

It was made up of layers and layers of different shade of green, which, according to man women who made the dress, 'trailed after her like the pale morning mist of an enchanted twilight forest' and if she wasn't careful, it would the twilight forest would no doubt soon be covered in in a new shade of green.

The same green as yesterdays lunch.

The maid had finished threading what had appeared at first to be small drops of dew, but on closer inspection were probably just diamonds throughout her hair and now she and The Lady Irene were umming and ahring over what to do with her face.

Knobbly, care worn fingers taking a firm grasp of Sarah's chin, the maid deftly pulled out wand of mascara and Sarah prayed that she would come out of this brutal ordeal with both eyes.

A whole hour later and Sarah could barely feel her face anymore. Despite Irene's early insistence that she had quite a lovely completion, Sarah was certain that they had rubbed enough ointments, concealers, lotions, creams, tonics, bases and foundations on to her skin to drown a horse. She was certain that she had had freckles when she entered her bedroom earlier today. On the bright side however, her skin was letting off a faint glow and the dark bags that she'd earned from spending numerous nights up chatting with her friends in the mirror had completely disappeared.

Aside from the glowing skin, the fact her eyes appeared a little larger and her lashes a little longer and a faint rose petal coloured tinge to her lips, Sarah could honestly not tell what took them an hour to put that much make-up on. In that time, she could have easily eaten her own weight in food.

The thought of food caused her stomach to pang painfully but Sarah tried to ignore the pain and the light headedness that slowly slipped through her.

Instead she focused on the mirror and the tiny movement she caught in the background which, if one were much mistaken, may have looked like a dwarf, a fox and a rock giant all giving signs of approval, before disappearing into the other room.

Sarah stared at her reflection who stared back with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Seeing Hoggle had reminded her of something and the reflection and Sarah shared a silent agreement.

The Peach.

It seemed however that Irene had grander plans and Sarah stifled a groan as Irene waved off the maids and led her to the sitting parlour to have a little 'woman to woman.'

Pouring two liberal chalices of a dark purple Irene sat across from Sarah and surveyed her over the rim of her glass, grinning like a cat who'd just been let loose in the dairy house.

"Are you nervous?"

Sarah did a mental checklist:

-Sweaty Palms? Yep.

-Butterfly's in her stomach? Only since she arrived at the palace.

-The overwhelming fear that she was going to royally screw up and dishonour her family for all eternity? Oh good, that was there to. Didn't want to miss anything did she?

Instead of informing her step mother all of this she simply smiled shyly and batted her eye lids, considering it practise for later on this evening.

"A little."

Irene nodded understandingly and patter her hand with a consoling manner.

"The first ball is the worst of all." She said knowingly.

She probably rhymed knowingly too, thought Sarah, considering her love for over dramatics.

"But, look on the bright side, they say at a woman's first ball, it is where she'll meet her true love."

Sarah felt the butterfly's flutter nervously against her rib cage.

"I see. Did you meet father at your first ball? Is he your true love?"

Irene let out a small sigh and leant forward, rubbing her thumb soothingly back and forward along Sarah's cheek, wine glass balanced precariously in the other hand.

"When you say love, when you're young, you mean something passionate and fiery. You want someone who would move the earth for you. By the time you get a little older, it's different. That's not to say it's not amazing, just not what's expected."

Sarah felt her forehead crease in confusion. She had only half been listening, the other half of her mind firmly set on the peach.

"So you don't love father?"

"Not in the way you're imagining love, no. It's more of a deep affection. It holds a certain quality of endearment. I would follow your father to the ends of the earth, but I'm completely aware he can never move it for me."

"Oh."

Sarah felt slightly stunned. Was Irene giving her relationship advice? What had Sarah gotten herself into?

Sensing the younger woman's distress, Irene shoved a sloshing glass of the plum liquid into her step-daughter's hand and raised her own chalice. Sarah simply copied her motions.

"A toast. To love."

"Love." Mumbled Sarah before draining her glass.

Sarah tried her hardest not to gag as the wine made it's way down her throat leaving behind a sharp, acidic tang at the back of her mouth. A dull buzzing sensation filled her and Sarah nervously remembered her brief encounters with ale.

Irene left in a hurry, telling Sarah to come down to the ballroom when she was ready. With a groan Sarah slumped in her chair and waited until the world stopped spinning before shuffling back to her bed chamber, in her uncomfortable shoes.

Reaching under her pillow, Sarah grabbed the plump piece of fruit. She was so famished that she was certain that she could easily swallow the whole think in one gulp but part her reminded her sharply that swallowing it whole would not remove the foul taste of the wine.

Cautiously breaking the skin of the fruit with her teeth, Sarah sighed happily as the juice drizzled down her throat, removing the vinegary aftertaste of the wine.

Sarah took a vigorous bite only to retch as the surprisingly bitter fruit slipped down to her stomach to join the wine.

Sarah quickly put the peach down, eyeing it ruefully.

"Enough of you I think." She told the fruit sternly. The fruit looked back, a picture of innocence. Straining her ears, Sarah could barely make out the tune of trumpets announcing the arrival of various guests.

Sarah hurried to the door and down a narrow flight of stone stairs, green trailing behind her. Finger pressed against the door, Sarah could feel the thrum of the music through the wood. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. She could do this.

At an after thought Sarah kicked off her pointy heels, which she could barely walk in and for the record were biting into her feet worse than a pair of fairies ever could.

It was time. Time to face the masses. Ignoring the spinning of her head Sarah put on her best coy smile and pushed open the doors the ballroom.

The ballroom was alight with the dazzling brilliance of twenty chandleries. Everything was so colourful and vibrant that it made her head her to take it all in. Or maybe it was the wine?

The room, which had seemed large yesterday morning, seemed even larger still now it was full of hundreds and hundreds of people.

Sarah was avoiding the dance floor at all costs. Her stomach had begun to churn violently and a strange twisting pain had settled behind her eyes, causing spots to flash before her at random, rapid fire intervals. She couldn't do this. She would never make it to the end of the night. Maybe she could just go back to her room and wait for the announcements. She apologised as she stumbled past someone, perhaps a woman in a red dress, she wasn't so sure.

Sarah continued to stumble until she reached a wall and leant her whole body against it, thankful for the comfort of something sturdy to hold her up. The churning had become a dull burning sensation and she felt as if she were watching the ball from under the ocean. The swell of the music held a muffled tin quality, and it was all to slow. The swirling, and the preening, and the...

Sarah's heart leapt as she felt a determined tap on her shoulder. Turning slowly, Sarah took a moment to blink back the spots, swaying gently on the balls of her feet.

"I didn't expect to see you here tonight." The man in the red army coat grinned at her, medals glinting dully in the light.

"What with your little spectacle yesterday." The young man turned to face the dancing crowd, leaving Sarah to glimpse at three long gorge marks in his face. A name swam foggily to the front of her mind, taking her a moment to register.

Phillip.

"Don't worry though, I'm telling everyone it was a bold hunting accident."

Phillip raised a meaningful eyebrow but Sarah missed it as her lips had begun to tingle painfully.

"I've found the ladies really dig hunting accidents."

Sarah nodded as bile began to burn up her throat. The room lurched in front of her suddenly.

"I see." Was all she could manage.

"Y'know," The Prince continued slyly. "If you had a twirl about the room with me now, I'd forget all about the little incident when we're married. I like a woman with a bit of spit fire."

"Then you should go after a dragon." Sarah murmured, pressing her self against the wall.

"That's the spirit!" Phillip exclaimed, grabbing her wrist and tugging her to the dancing couples, twirling about the cavernous space.

Phillip clumsily dragged her across the floor, one of his hands clasps firmly at her waist, the other holding hers. They tottered together around in sluggish circles, Phillip's palms were slick against her burning ones. The fabric his coat was made from was too prickly for her to grasp his shoulder.

1 and a 2, Step, 3 and a 4, step.

"You're really beautiful you know." Phillip said earnestly, the hand on her waist slowly inching upwards. Warning bells fired off in Sarah's mind, and the twisting sensation caused her knees to to go weak. It was pure willpower and a grinding determination that stopped them from buckling.

1 and a 2, Step, 3 and a 4, step.

She still had to build up enough to force herself away from the disgusting boy.

"I'm sorry if I offended you before by asking you to be my lover. If you were my Queen I wouldn't even need one!"

1 and a 2, Step, 3 and a 4, step.

The pair was forced to come to a jarring halt and it couldn't have ended a moment sooner in Sarah's mind as Phillip had just discovered the mid point on her ribs.

"Would you mind if I were to cut in?"

It took Sarah a moment to register the smooth voice as it wormed it's way through the layers of burning and spinning.

Jareth

Sarah felt herself go slack as she was passed from one set of arms to the other. The blazing light made his hair shine like spun gold, He was wearing silver tonight. Like a star, she thought absently, or an angel. It was too hot. She was burning, burning up. The sun was never this hot. The stars were never this hot.

The Prince huffed indignantly,

"My future wife and I were quite happy together I think you'll find."

Jareth's face twisted into a snarl.

"I think you'll find, I was asking you."

And so off she went again, Jareth swept her expertly across the floor, the sound and colour of the ballroom blurring together.

Burning.

Sound and Colour.

1 and a 2, Step, 3 and a 4, step.

Colour and Sound.

Burning.

1 and a 2, Step, 3 and a 4, step.

It hurt. She was on fire.

A gloved hand dug sharply into her waist. Jareth was only solid thing left and she clung to him fearfully. The corset was too tight. Her breathing had been laboured the moment she had set foot in this retched ballroom.

"A week? Is that how long I have to be absent before you allow some repulsive little scab the paw at you? The fae sneered. Sarah felt his muscles tense beneath her.

"I- I don't- it's not like that at all! I didn't mean for-"

Sarah gasped as a new searing pain shot through her.

"Jareth!"

She swooned against him, grateful for the cool material beneath her burning forehead. She felt his heart thud in his slowly rising and falling chest. Her own breathing was frantic, like a rabbit being chased by an owl.

"Again."

Sarah dizzily raised her head. The world was spinning. A private dance just for her. The hand splayed against her back had begun to trail up and down, in repetitive motions, sending pleasant shivers across her smouldering skin.

1 and a 2, Step, 3 and a 4, step.

"What?"

Jareth's eyes were blissfully hooded and the world began to fade in and out of focus. She could no longer felt her fingers and her toes had gone numb a long time ago. Hair the colour of the sun but not nearly as intense tickled her cheek.

"Again." He crooned softly, running his thumb roughly over the pink tinged lips.

"Say my name again Sarah."

"Jareth..." Her voice barely made it passed her parched lips.

As quickly and professionally as he had taken her to the floor, The Fae lord took her off again, green fabric floating after her.

Jareth half carried her to an entrance way that Sarah was vaguely aware may have led to a balcony of sorts.

Sarah drew in a shallow breath of cool night air. The world was still alight. The kingdom was painted below her in a patchwork of navies and deep greens. Above her, someone had taken the fabric of the universe and scattered with but a million diamonds. The sun had stained the sky with pale green. It was the solstice the night that would never end.

Sarah was aware that she was still standing, swaying gently under the moonlight. At the same time she wasn't very aware at all and almost wondered when she was going to wake up.

Gloved fingers had clasped her hands and rubbed gently back and forth over her knuckles.

"My sweet Sarah,"

The fallen angel slowly enfolded his arms around her trembling figure. His features were so sharp. She had always marvelled that she had never been cut.

"My Queen. My Love."

Sarah watched with parted lips as her fingers entwined with his hair. Jareth groaned longingly and Sarah felt herself stumbling forward so that he could bury his face into the nape of her neck, raggedly breathing into her hair, which had slipped loose of it's pins and tumbled over her shoulders.

His touch. It was strange. It filled her with an electric tingle. A different kind of burn. Not fire but rather lightning.

"They told me," her voice coming out hoarse whisper, "That there wouldn't be any Fae here tonight."

The Fae's face quirked into an easy smile, revealing a single pointed canine.

"Perhaps that is usually the case, my precious, but tonight I am here to see my wife... If she says yes that is."

The world spun for Sarah as she looked about her to locate the mystery woman.

"Where is she?" She asked with wide green eyes. The pupils were dilated to nearly black specs.

"I'm starring at her."

It was darker now. The darkest the solstice had ever been, but the fire's burnt as hot as ever.

"But, you're starring at me."

Jareth looked as if he was trying to remember her face, her expression, her posture. Everything in that moment. Arms tightened around her, holding her up, pushing her against the length of his body. She radiated with the heat of a thousand suns.

His head was lowering towards hers.

"I am?" He breathed softly.

It was her first kiss.

It was more an act of claiming, than an act of love. Almost a vicious. Jareth met no resistance because she had nothing left to give. She was drained. The only feeling left was excruciating pain. Groaning heavily in the back of his throat, Sarah felt Jareth push against her as if she was made of honey, as if he could not breath and she were oxygen. He smiled against her lips at her gasping, coiling his fingers deeper into her hair, crushing the roses beneath his palms. Tears she could not feel slid down her face.

The kiss slowly softened into a teasing nip and the Fae shuddered as his arms loosened their desperate grasp, tracing the length of her bodice. She was quivering, but she couldn't did not feel cold.

The pain was unbearable.

She did not feel when her legs crumpled beneath her.

She did not feel her head as it raced to reach the marble ground.

The little air that was left in her lungs fled.

She did not hear Jareth call her name.

She did not hear the woman's scream.

She only saw the heavens draped above her.

AGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGGA

A/N: 's pretty fricin late this side of the biosphere. So if the quality of writing is sh*t, I apologise. Send me the terrible ones, and I'll fix it.

Sorry about Phillip. He wasn't supposed to get so *Enouhlysgdhs,fhb* There are no real words.

I am both proud and not proud of this chapter. Like suddenly wham bam thank-you ma'am and Irene and Sarah are besties. And Sarah's POV starts getting kind of trippy there, which to be fair, is more self inflicting on the character because I talk like Shakespeare when I'm drunk. ANYWAY.

That is LAZY writing right there. Never do that when writing your own fics. In the words of Hercules: You can go the distance.

Quick Q and A, 'cause of some of the questions I've been a getting:

Q: Why did you look at a body? Was it like CSI?

A: I have to study the human muscles for physical education. Imagine the body's skin as a sickly yellow colour, that is extremely wrinkled as all fluids have been removed. The organs are brown. Everything inside the body is a purpley-brown or a greenish-brown.

Q: Are you a boy or a girl? Cause, like, you had a bf called Karl, but you said Jen Con was hot?

A: Let us not define ourselves with labels. I feel that society has come so far in it's acceptance of the strange and... Whatever, Female, brown hair, blue eyes. Has a preference for men but swings both ways. So Labyrinth was a truly great film for me because it had TWO leads I could drool over.

Q: Are you gonna write more Laby fics?

A: Sure thing, chicken Wing. I got a bunch of ideas. I'm thinking a fluffy piece in which Sarah and Jareth share a flat in Manchester/ London and it'll be full of drama and angst and also A Victorian era piece featuring briefly Sherlock Holmes and a ton of opium with which Jareth will most likely use to subdue Sarah into loving him.

Q:What is your main Labyrinth ship?

A: Well, you know, as it's pretty obvious from this fanfic, I just really think that Hoggle and Sarah are such a great dynamic, power couple, and the wedding would be so beautiful and I truly LOVE IT when Jareth hooks up with some random chick with a name like Krystal, who has to be a red head to show her individuality from society...

*Takes deep breath*

It's Jareth and Sarah. J/S is my ship and I will go down with it. Occasionally I've come across Sir Didymus and Hoggle pairings as well, which are kind of cute in a freaky way.

Q: Where does the name 'Redwood Manning' come from?

A: The Rocky Horror Picture Show('s lesser known and not as great sequel 'Shock Treatment')!

Question time back at ya! Does anyone else, like immediately, think of Golem when Jareth calls Sarah precious too often? I mean it's so distracting but also hilarious. I get he calls her precious once in the film but... It just brings happy little tears to my eyes.