None of the books Sarah read, nor any of the starry-eyed stories told to her of true love were able to prepare her for her own wedding. Perhaps it was because while she was perfectly amiable toward her own groom, she did not feel that she was madly in love with him. Or maybe it was because she could still see feathers sticking out from his wild blonde hair and creeping down the back of his neck. Her stepmother sobbing in the background while the priest read his lines certainly did not help. So Sarah stood in her elaborate gown and listened to the vows she would agree to while ignoring the stares from the king and queen boring holes into her back. His sister was holding the hand of another woman, eyes misty; she remained focused on the officiant and the words he spoke.

And then all attention was focused on her, and Sarah discovered that she quite forgot how to speak. Everything-even the goblins-was silent. Jareth stared at her, hard, and Sarah realized that it was her turn to affirm the vows.

Say your right words, Sarah thought to herself. Say them and hope he didn't add anything nefarious to the vows.

Sarah opened her mouth, and the voice that came from it barely felt like her own.

"I do."

A wicked grin flashed across his face as he seized her left hand and slipped a golden band on it. The ring glittered brilliantly for a moment before seeming to sink into her skin. It didn't hurt, but Sarah wondered why he would magick a ring so that it would be almost invisible beside her skin.

"You cannot take it off," he said gleefully. "You can never leave me."

Oh, Sarah thought, a little irritated that she hadn't realized the implication sooner. His words would have no doubt made even her father cry, but the befeathered king said them so softly that even Sarah, standing right beside him, had to strain to hear.

But she didn't have much time to dwell on rings or promises or even what was to come next because it was all just so fast and his mouth was on hers before she could even protest. His teeth were still a little sharp, and when she put her hands on his shoulders, she could feel even through his thick coat that feathers were there, too.

The priest said something about their vows making them mostly married, and some piece of vital information clamored for attention in the back of her mind, but she couldn't focus enough to think too hard on it. Goblins cheered in the background, and Sarah thought that maybe she heard the princesses behind her cheer, too, but she couldn't be sure.

And then, all at once, there was a loud snap and the smell of burned sugar and such sudden silence that Sarah opened her eyes, only just then aware that she had closed them. She pulled away from Jareth to survey her surroundings, and her stomach did an unpleasant flutter when she realized she was in his bedroom. Many of the feathers were cleaned up, and the windows were barred shut, but it was unmistakably his.

"What are we doing here?" asked Sarah, her voice weak. "My parents are below. I would like to speak with them."

"And you may," he responded, leisurely shucking off his overcoat. "When you are well and truly my wife." Jareth took a step forward, and Sarah took half a step back.

"But we are married," she protested. "We said our vows."

"We said our vows, yes," he agreed. "But they have not been consummated. Ergo, we are not yet fully married."

Part of Sarah was relieved. If they were not yet completely married-just mostly married-then there was still time for the final shed and therefore still time to make him completely human… at least in appearance. But she did not like the almost malignant look in his eyes or the way his hands were skimming over her shoulders, as if she was a sweet he would like very much to unwrap. But it wasn't something she was necessarily… averse to

Sarah smiled a wicked grain of her own and slid her frothy sleeves from her shoulders. If she was going to do this, it would be on her own terms.

"Shed your feathers, and I will shed my shift."

For a moment, he was almost completely still. If it wasn't for the shallow rise and fall of his chest or the subtle flaring of his nostrils, Sarah might have thought him a statue.

"Well?" she prompted, and he flew into motion. This time, Sarah made himself watch the transformation. There seemed to her to be very little left to shed, but it took up most of his attention anyway. While he was distracted, she methodically plucked at the stays holding her gown up.

Sarah watched as his pupils became more rounded and the last few feathers fell away. As with the other time he shed part of his Lindworm guise, he looked a bit dazed.

"You," he breathed out, "shed your shift."

"I keep my word," Sarah said, letting her gown drop to the floor.

Sarah felt sweaty and sore in places she previously had only a theoretical understanding of only an hour ago. The warm water of the sunken back the found herself in with Jareth only did so much to soothe her muscles, and she was certain that when they finally returned to their guests, they would all know exactly what the newlyweds had been up to. The thought reddened her cheeks.

He stood, oblivious to her embarrassment, and approached the tall mirror hanging on the far wall. Jareth drank in his reflection like a man parched; Sarah wondered if he stared at her with the same reverence.

Ignoring her protesting muscles, Sarah stood and reached for something to dry herself with, avoiding her own reflection. Wrapped in a soft expanse of fabric, Sarah also found a brush and started trying to work through the snarls in her hair.

"I think," he said, staring at his own face in the mirror, "that as a wedding present to myself, I might kill my family. What say you, wife? I am still considering it."

Sarah almost dropped her hairbrush in surprise.

"As a king of a neighboring country, would that not start a war?" she asked, selecting her words carefully. "Perhaps a better wedding present would be a peaceful reign."

But Jareth did not seem convinced, and instead of acknowledging her suggestion, decided to study how holding his head at different angles altered his appearance. Sarah scowled and ran the brush through her hair one last time.

"They already think you a murderer," she pointed out. "Do not give them further proof."

He ignored her, scowling at his own reflection though Sarah was certain the expression was meant for her. Any continuation of that dialogue would likely have them throwing things at each other within minutes, Sarah realized. Better to just look for something to wear.

But the only thing available was her intricate white gown, so Sarah struggled her way back into it.

"However, if revenge is your desire," she started, thinking particularly uncharitable thoughts herself-towards him, towards his family, towards the thrice-damned dress-"then perhaps the best way to execute it would be to prove to them at every turn that you are better. Not at war," she hastened to add. "But better at living. Be better at ruling."

"And pleasing my queen," he said, turning to face her for the first time since he discovered the mirror. Sarah stared down at her feet, feeling the heat of her blush spread across her face and hating it.

"I'd like to go back to my parents and brother, now," she said. "And you may gloat to your family about whatever you like." Without another word, still feeling her embarrassment from his last remark, Sarah turned and left his chambers.

It took Sarah a few minutes to find her way back to the room in which the celebratory banquet was being held. She was only a little surprised to see the king making conversation with her father, who was sweating profusely. Her stepmother busied herself with Toby, stolidly ignoring the goblins, while the queen listened politely to Ludo wax poetic about igneous rocks. But as soon as the others realized Sarah had returned, all attention focused on her.

Sarah heard her stepmother gasp and Didymus proclaim "my lady" but it was her father who dropped to his knees and Jareth's sister who wrapped the princess beside her in a fierce hug.

"Hello, everyone," said Sarah, nonplussed. "I hope I did not keep you waiting overlong."

"My girl," said the king, who moved toward her and then seemed to think better of it. "We are all terribly glad to see you well and wed."

Sarah nodded her head, politely ignoring the unspoken "and unbrutalized"; she was glad for that as well, if unsurprised. Toby gurgled something from her stepmother's arms, focused on a small goblin creeping closer.

The image gave Sarah pause; if there was going to be any real, lasting peace between humans and goblins, the duty most likely rested with her and those too young to know anything different, like Toby.

"Well," she said, pushing the thought away for the moment, "I'm feeling a bit peckish. Is anyone else?" And because the groom was nowhere to be found, Sarah helped herself to a slice of cake. The goblins predictably followed suit with only Hoggle requiring any coaxing, as he seemed determined not to make as merry as the rest.

Eventually, all of the humans entered the fray as well, and Sarah's stepmother seemed to be warming to the fact that her stepdaughter was a queen—even if said stepdaughter was queen of the Goblin Kingdom. The goblins showed her more deference than they might show another human from her village. She sat as primly as she would if she were on the throne herself; no doubt, Sarah thought, to prove to Sarah's new in-laws that they were all equals. If they were anything like Jareth, Sarah's stepmother had a long road ahead of her.

Tinsel took it upon herself to protect Sarah—or, more likely, the gown Sarah wore—from the pieces of cake and slices of fruit that intermittently flew through the air. Querel took it upon himself to amuse Toby, mostly by attempting to juggle pieces of cake. Sarah was in the middle of watching it all transpire when she felt a hesitant tap on her shoulder.

"I have no doubt that my mother and father will approach you in turn," the blonde princess said, clearly nervous. "But I would like to thank you for marrying the Lin—my brother. I must remember that he is my brother," she said, as an aside to herself. "Without you marrying him, I would have been unable to marry my own love." She gestured towards the other woman sitting with Jareth's parents. "We have waited so long, you see." The princess grabbed Sarah's hands in her own, holding them tightly. "I owe you a debt. If you ever find yourself in need of anything, please call upon me first."

"Thank you," said Sarah, patting her new sister's hands. "I wish you many felicitations in your own upcoming marriage." She was about to say that if the offer of help was meant in reference to Jareth, it was unnecessary. Her words were interrupted by the entrance of the man himself, looking much more put together than Sarah felt. He still wore his glittering wedding clothes, but Sarah did not think that was the reason the entire room fell silent a second time.

All traces of feathers and too-sharp features had been smoothed away by his final shed, leaving him looking, at least, like a normal human man. He looked extremely displeased to see his sister speaking with his bride, and even less happy to see his parents. Jareth's lips curled, and Sarah glowered at him; he wasn't even trying to mask his hatred.

"I see you are all still imposing on my generous hospitality," he sneered, inclining his head toward his parents. "You will not be for long; I suggest you start saying your goodbyes."

Sarah rolled her eyes and turned back to his sister.

"I will write you," she said. "Please excuse me; I would like to speak with my parents."

Sarah's father had collected himself since his near breakdown during the ceremony. The color returned to his face and he only flinched a little when the occasional goblin got too close. Sarah counted that as a victory, if a small one.

"Will we see you again?" he asked, voice low and resigned. "Or is my daughter going to spend the rest of her days with goblins?"

"Father!" Sarah chided, trying to keep a smile from her lips. "You can visit at any time, of course. He won't have a say in the matter, I assure you. If I want to see my family, I will. He isn't so unmanageable," she said, nodding at her new husband. "Unconventional, perhaps, but is that so bad?"

Her father did not have an answer, as he was rather happy in his very conventional marriage. But his daughter seemed confident enough, and that was all that he truly needed. She explained how her time in the Goblin Kingdom went to her parents, tactfully leaving out the oubliettes, and expanded upon how, exactly, she managed to attract the attention of the Goblin King himself. The ruby ring still sat on her finger.

Jareth ignored everybody except Sarah and a few goblins, but Sarah thought that was probably to be expected. After a while he grew restless and ordered everybody to leave; Sarah tried to soften the blow by inviting them all back. She doubted that most would take her up on her offer.

Sarah watched her family—both new and old—depart, her disinterested husband at her side. She knew that all would be well… At least, as well as the goblins would let it be.

A/N

shows up to updating this story five months late with Starbucks and old memes*

Anywho, there's a bit of a saying up north in law enforcement that you're not dead until you're warm and dead. Something similar can be said for old royal weddings—you're not married until there's a reason to suspect the bride is pregnant and married.

Remember to stop by my tumblr glass-hibou for sneak peeks and updates for upcoming fics! Feel free to ask questions there as well!