Hello! Oh my stars, I hadn't meant to make you people wait this long. I'm so sorry! I thought you had lost interest in this. Thanks to Aperio, though, who spurred me to write with her review. My muse (whom I call Penny) felt so guilty that she insisted that I write at once.

Anyway, thank you people for the encouragement you gave me. You made me so happy! And because our school vacation is fast approaching (we only have one more week), I could update a lot faster. Hurray!


Wow, she thought, hardly daring to breathe, as she was prone to do whenever faced with something so...magnificent.

If Sarah was asked to define the word 'beauty' , she would probably call to mind the vision which the two guests had made: long, silky locks of golden sunshine flowing like a smooth, endless river down their slender backs, skin as fair and as velveteen as feathers from the doves which had happened to pass by the park when she was around one day, and eyes bluer than the deepest ocean and lovelier than the clearest sky. Both had donned on resplendent gowns completing the pretty princess picture.

She could see the resemblance they had with Jareth, though. He had the same-shaded hair, if a bit lighter and silvery. The profile was there: high cheekbones, elegant eyebrows, and the arrogant tilt of the chin. But his eyes were different – why were they mismatched?

Sarah would hate to admit it, but the longer she stared, the more it hurt to look at the arrivals. They just were so...bright. Maybe it was because of the fact that their hair and gowns were of the same color, or maybe it was her faulty eyes. She sometimes read rather late into the night without sufficient light, and her mother had remarked that she would ruin her eyes later in her life and that she would need dorky eyeglasses if she continued. Sarah had quit her habit when her mother had said that. After all, she needed no more reasons for her classmates to tease her. She got enough mocks and jeers without the aid of dorky glasses, thank you.

Her mummy. It didn't hurt so much when Sarah thought about her now. Maybe they were finally happy. Maybe it was best for her to come here.

"Sarah, this is Ilona and Marigold," Jareth introduced in a rather aloof tone. He sounded...bored. "Ilona, Marigold, this is Sarah."

The little girl smiled and curtsied, but was puzzled when the two females barely acknowledged her presence with a glance. She didn't notice Jareth's eyes narrowing at them.

"Jareth," the one named Ilona said in a saccharine voice without preamble. "I have seen the room we are to stay in and I can say that I am not pleased by it. Not pleased indeed. It is not to my liking. I require a bigger one. And the servant girl you assigned was absolutely horrendous. I want her out of my sight and out of the castle. Immediately."

"As you wish, my dear sister," he drawled. Sarah recognized that he emphasized word 'dear' in a tone he usually reserved for the people he disliked. He grinned at her subtly, knowing that she was the only one who noticed.

Apparently oblivious to their silent interaction, she continued without batting an eyelash. "It better be. And look at the state of this place!" she exclaimed, making an encompassing gesture with a dramatic flare of her hand to indicate her surroundings. "Mother would be so disappointed. What would she say?"

Sarah looked around and saw nothing wrong. Everything was in perfect order, and she knew for a fact that the goblins limited their mess to the smaller throne room, where the King allowed them free rein and where he conducted his 'business affairs.' Which still remained mysterious, for Rosalie still refused to tell her what the King was doing.

She felt someone's stare on her. Turning slightly, she saw the girl called Marigold watching her coolly with impassive eyes. Sarah tentatively smiled back. The blonde girl's expression did not change, but she shifted her gaze back to her mother.

"Perhaps you would prefer to hold this conversation in a more secluded venue?" Jareth asked, gritting his teeth. He wanted to strangle something. Most favorably his sister's dainty little neck for being the obnoxious and demanding harpy she was. The thought made him smile darkly. Why in all the thirteen hours of time had she and her brat decide to drop by on such an inopportune moment?

Ilona's eyes slid over to where Sarah stood, and gave a small laugh. The sound was delicate, pleasing – like wind chimes tolling in a faraway valley – but it sent insecure shivers down the dark-haired girl's spine… made her feel small and uncomfortable.

"Ah…wouldn't like unwanted audience, would you?" she asked, giving a little understanding nod of her head. "Very well. Show me to the rooms, brother dear. Marigold, sweetie, are you going to be fine if Mummy leaves you alone for a few minutes?"

"Yes, Mother," the child replied. Her voice was smooth, like rich, pure honey. Sweet and melodic.

Jareth sent a glance at Sarah, which she couldn't interpret. A warning, perhaps?

"Good." With a thud of the door, the two children were left alone.

Marigold stood motionless at first, but with a few, graceful and precise steps, she crossed the expanse of the room and sat on a chair farther away from the dark-haired girl, settling her hands delicately on her lap. She waited patiently, hardly moving a muscle.

Sarah walked to the window to see her potential friend-to-be. Marigold seemed to be a bit older than Sophia. And with her sitting so still as if posing for a portrait, she looked like a porcelain doll.

She remembered seeing one in the window of an antique shop she used to pass by when going to school before. The doll had a head of flaxen curls, her alabaster skin gleamed in the light, and was wearing a pretty blue dress with frills and laces. She had sat on a little wooden chair facing the passers-by, and her painted turquoise eyes unblinkingly stared straight ahead.

Sarah had been walking home from school one day feeling particularly down. Her classmates had been laughing because she had told them that goblins and fairies were real and she had seen them in her closet. But her sadness had quickly evaporated when she first saw the doll right across the street. Since then, she had made it a point to make a detour to the emporium every single day. There she was - her hands and face pressed on the cool, smooth glass, staring down longingly at the toy for hours. It had really been rainy and cold one instance when the shopkeeper took pity and ushered her in, making a steaming cup of milk to restore warmth to her freezing frame. They had been friends since then. Best of all, Mrs. Carruthers, the owner of the shop, had allowed her to be better acquainted with the toy. Sarah had been able to touch the doll's hair, which felt like silk sliding through her fingers, and see that her dress had small sequins sewn on it.

The little girl never thought of asking how much the doll costs, for she knew that something so beautiful would be unattainable for her. For those moments, she was content to watch.

Then the unthinkable happened.

She was skipping to the store excitedly, a wad of bills tightly grasped in one small fist. It was her birthday, and her parents had given her enough money to keep her out of their hair. Maybe...maybe it was enough to bring her little friend home.

Heart thudding madly in her chest, she turned to the last corner and gazed expectantly at the foggy window shop.

Only to find an unoccupied, small doll chair, Mrs. Carruther's apologetic face, and a man exiting the shop with a child holding a doll-sized box.

Sarah faintly heard something shattering which sounded a lot like her heart breaking into a million tiny pieces.

"It's quite rude to stare, you know."

Blinking the flashback out of her eyes, she saw Marigold watching her coolly. Sarah smiled sheepishly.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Marigold," she apologized, stepping closer to the seated girl.

The golden-haired child tilted her head slightly, the way haughty aristocrats do when they find something not worth of their time.

"You said my name," she said matter-of-factly.

Sarah frowned, wondering what it was about. "Yes, I did. Is there something wrong?"

"Nobody says my name without my permission."

She brightened up, the frown on her face disappearing. "Oh, how silly of me! Should I ask for your permission, then?"

The younger girl asked this without guile, truly interested in the other's answer, but Marigold glared at her.

"Are you mocking me?"

"What! Oh no, Mari – um, little-miss-lady-with-pretty-colored-hair. I wondered if you'd allow me to say your name. Friends can't be friends not without saying their first names, you know."

An odd emotion flashed in Marigold's eyes, before resuming her usual ennui.

"You can't say my name until I allow you to."

The small girl deflated visibly. Marigold felt smug at this, but an unnamed emotion crept through her psyche. But before she could analyze it, her mortal companion perked up immediately.

"If I can't say your name, I'll just call you something else!"

"What –"

"It's nice to meet you, Mari-flower!"

Marigold choked, horrified beyond belief.

"Is there something wrong, Mari-flower? It is such a pretty nickname. I couldn't come up with a better idea than that! But I think, maybe I did. Did I?" Sarah asked the speechless girl.

When the golden-haired child got her composure back, she finally found her voice to speak and utter a proper dressing down for the impudent peasant.

"Listen, mortal. I never liked little brown rats with freaky eyes that steal food from other – more deserving – people's plates. I absolutely abhor them. Not to mention I find them and their mindless chatter extremely annoying."

Sarah nodded wisely, imitating Eldred at his sagest moment. Her new friend knew such many big words! Though she did wonder why Marigold mentioned rodents at such a time. Perhaps she thought to warn her?

"I don't like them too, Marigold. Their eyes are too red, but I've never seen a brown rat before. Are there brown rats here in the Underground? Have you seen one? Of course you do! Don't be afraid, some rats are awfully nice, like squirrels. At least, I think they are. Are they rodents? Maybe I should ask Jareth …"

For the first time in years, Marigold was beyond irritated. She never had the urge to stamp her foot in consternation for princesses never threw fits and always got what they want. How dare this – this mortal misunderstand her subtle insult? How dare she mock her so?

"You're missing the whole point!" Marigold interrupted. She never felt this angry before.

Sarah tilted her head in response, as if puzzling at a most complex riddle. "Did I? What point am I missing, Mari-flower?"

Marigold's eye ticked in hearing the pet name. "I know you are not dense, Mortal, with what little intelligence humans have. You're missing the whole point on purpose!"

More frazzled and bewildered in any moment of her life, Marigold left without saying goodbye, muttering something about some unbelievably dense creatures who drive normal people - Fae people - crazy.

Sarah stood in her wake, speculating how odd her new friend was, indeed.


"Oohh! I would do anything just to slap her pretty face silly!"

Sarah listened to her friend, amused, but with no small amount of trepidation, in hearing the petty threats in her tone. The moment Sophia had seen the expression on her face after meeting Marigold, she took it as a bad sign and vented off a plethora of complaints on the blond princess.

Moving her gaze at the labyrinth from atop one of the many towers of the castle, Sarah regarded her friend calmly.

"That's not very nice, Sophia."

Sophia was prone to blow her top at every given chance, but Sarah could see that she was fiercely protective about the people (and creatures) she cared for.

The girl in question whirled at her, her red hair seemingly ablaze with her temper and crazed eyes glinting a malevolent black. Sarah was immensely glad that the red-haired was not mad at her. She was slowly starting to believe that the color of a person's hair had something to do about his or her temperament.

"Nice? Nice?! What that – that-" The younger child had to duck at her companion's flailing arms. "-little monster probably told you was a lot, lot worse!"

A frown marred Sarah's brow.

"No it was not!" she said in protest. "She mentioned being annoyed and a trifle scared about brown rats with freaky eyes, that's all. Plus, she let me give her a nickname. She didn't like it when people called her by her name without her permission, which I did so foolishly. But now, I get to call her Mari-flower! Isn't that nice?"

Sophia's face reddened as she kept her silence. As much as she wanted to tell truthfully what exactly did that little brat meant by her comment, she just couldn't bear to see the exuberant young girl's face crumple in disappointment. She didn't want Sarah to lose her innocent perspective of the world and the people in it. The red haired was quite sure that 'Mari-flower' never meant 'real' rats.

The redhead had viewed so much of the world, and what she has seen had made her jaded, less trusting of the people she meets. But with Sarah, her usual justified prejudice hadn't sprung up.

"And besides," her companion continued, drawing Sophia out of her grim thoughts. "Why do you immediately think that Mari-flower said something bad? She might come off far too strong, or frank, or maybe a tad offensive, but-"

"She once said that my hair was redder than a fire truck engine."

A giggle erupted from Sarah's lips by its own volition, making her friend narrow her gaze at her.

"It's not funny, you know."

"You must admit, Sophia, it really is too red."

"It's not!"

"It is. But it's really pretty too."

"You think so?" she fingered an errant lock of burgundy hair dubiously. The dark-haired child smiled inwardly. She knew how much Sophia loved her hair.

When Sophia's temper apparently cooled, Sarah added, "You know, Mari-flower might have meant it as a compliment."

Fire had leapt back at her dark eyes at hearing the disliked name.

"How in Merlin's name did you come to think of that?"

Sarah shrugged. "I used to thing that fire trucks had a rather pretty shade of color, but it will really be cooler if it was…um, redder and a little bit brighter," she smiled. "Like…yours. And besides, why would Marigold compare your beautiful hair with the color of a fire truck, something so unusual here? I'll be a tiny bit flattered if you ask me."

Sophia sent a deep, probing gaze at her, as if attempting to figure her out.

"Sometimes it scares me how grown-up you seem to be," she complained. "Shouldn't you be the one complaining about that little witch and I should reassure you?"

Sarah gave her a chiding smile. "Silly Sophia might be older than Little Sarah, but Little Sarah knows which one of them is more mature."

The redhead rolled her eyes at her 'third person parlance.' "And who does little Sarah think is more mature? Silly Sophia or Little Sarah?"

Sarah gave a cute little frown, as if an adult was suggesting to her that the moon was made of cheese, something she knew was ridiculous since the age of three.

"Silly Sophia should've realized that Little Sarah uttered a rhetorical statement. That makes Silly Sophia sillier than ever."

Sophia's eyes widened and rolled her eyes at her companion again. "How in the world would a six year old know what a rhetorical statement is?"

The younger girl drew herself up to her full height, which hardly made a difference since she was small, and looked up at the redhead mock-condescendingly.

"I read. You should try it sometime, Sophia. It might not hurt your poor brain if you don't try too hard."

"Very funny. I think you spend too much time in His Majesty's company. You've apparently gotten his sarcasm, no disrespect intended."

"He got it from me," Sarah replied smugly.

Sophia rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time. She noticed that she was prone to do so whenever she was in the presence of the younger girl.

"His Majesty is right. You are a brat."

Sarah preened at the 'praise.'

"I know."

But seeing Sarah's bright, teasing smile which coaxed out one of hers, Sophia knew she wouldn't have it any other way.


Oops! Marigold is pissed at Sarah! I do think that she has a tendency to drive people crazy. But I think that is part of her charm and makes her more adorable!

Marigold is such a hard character to write. I had so many revisions of her. She was originally a lot meaner to little Sarah. I hope she is believable.

Please review!


Chapter 8:

"Sometimes I wonder how you came to be related to such an evil little witch, Toby,"Sophia said to the newcomer dryly.