A/N I apologise for the incredible lateness of this chapter. It was remarkably difficult to write and though that is no excuse it will have to do. I spent hours of the little spare time I have trying to come up with a suitable start for it but inspiration simply refused to strike. So here it is, the tenth chapter of A Writers Mind.

Chapter Ten: The Reason Vanity is a Sin

Though he had promised her breakfast in bed, oddly enough the food was largely ignored in favour of other activities. Sacred Forest the woman was insatiable. Not that he was complaining. He did have fourteen centuries to catch up on after all. But a rest would be nice from time to time.

Thankfully he had finally managed to tire her out enough for her simply lay still for a while. Though she probably would not do so for very long. She had her head on his chest, tracing the many scars on his skin with a soft finger. He still had not gotten used to seeing her with her hair so short. Before his body had been stolen from him her blond locks had been so long they reached down to her mid thigh and more often than not she had worn it in a think braid. Without even realising it he had began to run his fingers through her shoulder length golden locks.

"It's more practical this way, in case you're wondering," she murmured sleepily.

"It suits you," he replied softly, not wanting to disturb her. She snuggled into him further before giving her reply.

"I wasn't sure if you'd like it. You always said you loved my hair long. But I had given up hope of you ever coming back to me, so I just cut it all off about eleven hundred years ago. It reminded me of you too much." His heart gave an unpleasant lurch at her words and guilt flooded him once again.

"Well, I'm back now. And I swear I'll never leave you again, as long as I wear this I am yours." He gestured to his ear ring, the symbol of their marriage. A symbol that would only remain in place as long as they were true to their vows.

"And as long as I wear my marital piercing, I am yours." She turned her eyes to him, a cheeky glint in them that suggested she was rested enough. A smirk touched his lips and he flipped her onto the bed, leaning over her as his fingers travelled down from the hollow of her neck, over her chest and kept going.

"Speaking of your marital piercing . . ." She gasped and her back arched as he reached her own, much smaller, golden loop, which was attached to a very . . . interesting place on her body.

When she had first chose to wear her piecing there he had been somewhat surprised and more than a little disappointed that she didn't want to wear it publicly. Now however, he was eternally glad that she had chosen where she had. Though he had come close to murdering the man who performed the piercing.

"Is there a reason you're so twitchy?" Sarah asked, trying to ignore the worry that was starting to coil in her stomach. Jareth smirked at her, attempting his usual arrogant manner, but it lacked the impact of every other smirk she had seen on his lips.

"Gremlins on their own would be bad enough; they're an unbelievably savage warrior race. But Vanity just makes this situation all the more difficult." She raised an eyebrow at the King. Wasn't Vanity his friend? "You've never met her so before we set off to that wonderful fortress prison over there," he gestured to the imposing building that lurked two or three miles away. "I'll tell you a little about her so that you're more prepared to meet her in person." Not looking at her, he took a deep breath and treated the description like Sarah would taking off a plaster. By getting it over with as quickly as possible.

"Well, you'll no doubt have heard of one of the Seven Deadly Sins that goes by the name of Vanity." She gave a nod, he returned an uncomfortable squirm. "Well, she wasn't named after the sin; the sin was named after her."

"Are you serious?"

"Very, it originally meant caring only for personal gratification no matter what the cost. And she certainly does that." He licked his lips nervously, still not looking at her. "If her life was made into a film it would be banned for extreme and graphic violence, excessive foul language, glorifying self mutilation, torture, and murder, Necrophilia and since she only looks about ten by human standards, quite probably child pornography."

Sarah gaped at him. He had to mad! Breaking someone like that out of prison!

"No wonder you're so nervous."

"If I was only breaking her out I wouldn't be. However," he pulled a softly glowing leather band from his pocket. "I plan on double crossing her. This collar will stop her from killing, and quite a few other foul activities," his nose wrinkled and his lip curled, seemingly disgusted just be the thought of what this Vanity would do if given free rein, "unless her life depends on it, she has permission or the activity is targeting someone without either of the Ground based worlds magic in them. And suicidal tendencies don't count as a threat."

"And the Gremlins?" Perhaps his explanation of these creatures would help her to force all thoughts of the psycho they were about to free out of her mind.

"Well, my people compensated for their appearance with artistry, Tranendells' people compensated with blood letting and weapon crafting. They aren't to be tangled with. However, I need your help or I wouldn't have put you in danger."

With a long drawn out sigh, Sarah dragged her hand down her face, dreading what was to come, the feeling of sheer rightness fading slightly as the magnitude of their activities slowly began to hit home. Why would someone as powerful and seemingly resourceful as Jareth need her help in this? From the sounds of it, he was quite used to this sort of thing. But perhaps he was out of practice

"This prison is notoriously difficult to break into, trust me, I know from experience. Last time I went in swords drawn and all and nearly got myself and Vanity killed. This time I think stealth may do a better job."

"And you need me why?" She asked impatiently.

"Rose vines and wolves my dear Sylph, rose vines and wolves." This time his smirk was genuine. What was he scheming in that head of his? "I could fly there in my owl form, but I would be shot down when I reached within a mile of the castle. You see, there are no owls in this kingdom, so even the average dim witted guard would know it was a rouse. Wolves however are very common, though their packs are much smaller since food is harder to come by here. But one wolf on its own would also be highly suspicious."

"I still don't see what this has to do with me."

"You still haven't figured it out have you?" She frowned at his question. "Your book. Isn't it a little familiar? A war between three worlds, with an evil Angelic race? The main story focussing on a squadron containing a pair of royal twins originally from that race, an Elvin, a Satyr among others?" No! It couldn't be! It had to be some sort of coincidence! It had to be! "Where did you get your ideas from? Dreams? Images that flashed before your eyes?" She turned away, her breath coming in gasps. "They were memories Sarah. The Sylph are connected to everything. But you are especially connected to my Labyrinth, and hence to me. To my memories. Rose vines and wolves. They are the royal symbols of the Sylph. You've shown the rose vines. Now I need the wolf."

She looked to him and found a silent plea in his eyes. He wasn't lying, she knew that much. But how was she supposed to show his the wolf? She looked away again, to the barren ground cast in that horrid green light. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she realised she had no real choice in this. Jareth was stubborn. He would not leave until he had completed his task, and she needed him to be able to get out of this place. Her shoulders lumped in defeat and acceptance. She would get a better explanation out of him later, for now she just wanted to get this over and done with.

"What do I have to do?"

Gods she hated churches. They were the most boring things on the planet, with the possible exception of maths classes, though she hadn't had one of those for over five years so churches won by default.

Her brother was at the end of the isle, getting married to that brainless big boobed tart. Oh she looked pretty enough, but she was on the top five most stupid list for the country if not the planet. Her brother though was very intelligent, and yet had managed to fall for someone that idiotic. She sighed and shook her head. This was why she only did casual sex. In case she fell in love with the male equivalent of that.

Her head drooped as she tried to fight off sleep.

Someone screamed.

Her head shot up.

Something was sticking out of her brothers' chest, blood spilling everywhere.

She shot to her feet. "No!" Not even waiting to start weeping she shoved someone out of her way and ran onto the isle.

She saw a flash of silver flying towards her.

He watched, unable to be amused as she staggered around, trying to get used to her four limbs. She was a rather beautiful wolf, which would not have been a problem anywhere else, but it was an oddity here. Her fur was rich and thick, the darkest black with stark white markings, those stereotypically associated with wolves. She was elegantly formed as well, lean but not lithe, yet still capable of the bizarrely fast manoeuvres that Underground wolves were feared and revered for. Her eyes had stayed the same as well. Those beautiful greyish green orbs, only much wilder now she wore what the Sylph considered to be their true forms. He knew he would look like a flea infested mongrel next to her, but to be fair if she had taken the shape of an owl, she would pathetic next to him.

She sniffed experimentally at the ground and sneezed almost instantly. Shaking his shaggy, pure white head, Jareth climbed to his four paws and padded gracefully over to the struggling semi immortal.

Do you think you could manage walking to the fort? He asked with a head tilt and a musical growl. Wolf speak, he hated the sound of it and the feel of it on his now overly long tongue.

I think so, she replied. Her voice a low rumble and elegant swish of her tail. It should be enough practice for me. I feel like I've done this before, only a long time ago.

I told you, the Sylph are connected to everything, especially their own blood. You'll be remembering one of your ancestors. Now lets go. The sooner we get there the sooner we can leave. I loath this Kingdom. It's too close to what my own could have become had they chosen a different path eons ago.

Sarah gave him a brief nod before setting off, her walk elegantly stumbling. She had been right and it wasn't long before she developed powerful and graceful stride. She even experimented with running. Finding her looping gallop to be just as refined and aristocratic as her walk. Her tail swayed slightly from side to side as they travelled, an immense show of pride and self assurance for a wolf.

She stopped suddenly, crouching low to the ground. Her hackles raised and her nose sniffing the wind. It was an intimidating sight, but a beautiful one at the same time. I scent danger, she growled quietly. A foul smelling danger. Jareth sniffed at the air, following her example, but could smell nothing. He looked to her, a slight flick of his ear replacing his usual raised eyebrow. Then he caught it. The scent was faint, like a rank mixture of stale alcohol and unwashed Goblins.

Gremlins, he snarled, his own hackles raising without his command. They must be the gates guards. We need to get past them, and I think I know how we can do it without staining your fur. She growled at him, her lips pulling back to show her sharp teeth. There was no translation for such a movement. It was uniquely wolfish. And a kin to a battle cry in that it showed she was unafraid to do what ever was needed. But it also passed as a warning to those not of her pack, a warning that she was strong enough and had the will to fight and kill. His tongue lolled out to the side of his mouth, the wolven way to smirk. Then he went onto explain his strategy.

The Gremlins were repulsive creatures. But there disgusting appearance was nothing when compared to their intolerable stench. Yet she approach the overly tall, bat eared, heavily muscled, fang faced greasy skinned scabs without hesitation. There were three of them, all looking at her as though they had never seen a creature like her before. The urge to lunge at their throats was almost overwhelming, but she kept it check. She needed to keep a clear head for this.

One of them picked up an exquisite spear and seemed ready to hurl it her. With a deep breath, she threw back her head and forced out the loudest howl she could. It echoed across the wasteland. An eerie, unnatural, enthralling wail. She heard the Gremlins hiss in pain and still she howled. Pouring all of the anguish she could into the heart wrenchingly mournful song.

When she paused to take a breath, brief though that pause was, she saw Jareth in his pure white wolf form, so white even the green light of this kingdoms sun could lend him no colour, slowly sneaking the loop of keys from the belt of the middle Gremlin as they all had their long, thin and clawed hands pressed over their enormous ears in an attempt to block out the agony her howl induced.

Then she was crying out to the hideous sun yet again. She could hear their cries of pain, but she cared little. They were in the way and it was this or kill them. Not to mention the sweet release that was rushing through her as her beautifully agonising howl rang out into the day.

Then, as suddenly as she had started, she stopped. Turning her eyes to the three Gremlins, she lolled her tongue out to the side, mischief lighting her posture. Fury emanating from them. Jareth attempting to find some cover in a sickly shadow. With a loud yip, ripping another cringe from the Gremlins, she ran off. But slowly.

Cries of outrage followed her and soon she could hear the pounding of heavy feet behind her. Not looking back, she easily kept her pace. Letting them closer, letting them think they had a chance to win this. At the sound of a hissing whistle that sounded overly loud to her ears, she leapt to the left. Just in time to see a spear smash into the ground where she would have been.

Oh this was fun! Another howl escaped her as she ran. But this was in the place of laughter, not pain. It was light, it was playful and it was joyous. Hello sense of adventure, she thought. It's been a while. Another whistle. She leapt again, to the right this time, with the same effect. Then she dodged back left to avoid the second spear.

Time to put some distance between them. Giving up the game she powered her legs and straightened her neck out to become more streamline. Her speed increased so rapidly that she almost fell over from the rush. But she stayed her course and kept her legs beneath her. With a scramble of claws she dashed around the corner of the fort, then sped into a heavily shadowed alcove, skidding to a stop. Quickly, she pressed to the ground, curling up to hide as much of her white fur as possible. Thanking whatever Gods there may be that most of it was on her belly.

Then she waited.

And waited.

Until finally the Gremlins rushed past, each of them having reclaimed their spears. She stayed as she lay for time, until she could no longer hear their foot falls. Then she clambered to her feet and galloped as fast as she could to Jareth. To the only door into the prison.

She was panting when she reached him. But it was with excitement, not fatigue. The door was a standard size that she would expect to see in a home, only it was solid metal. She wasn't sure what kind, but it was no doubt much harder than steal. The other wolf gave her a quick nod of approval, then disappeared into the fortress silently. She followed, easily adopting stealth rather than her brash antics.

Inside was just as dismal as out, and with the same sickening light quality. The stones that made out the narrow corridors and built the stone stairs were dank and in need of a very thorough scrubbing. The torch brackets were murky and half the torched had burnt out, leaving a half crumbled piece of charred wood in place of a lit torch. Though the lack of light was very handy for their task.

Nerves became taught and high strung within her, she made not a sound as she followed Jareth through this depressing place. But her senses were wide open, catching every sniff of excrement (or possibly Gremlin), every quiet moan of agony that the building had to offer. But they ran into very few people and those they did were easily hidden from. Though a very bulky Gremlin with an obscenely large axe had come scarily close to discovering them as they snuck up the narrow stairs to the ultra high security tower that Jareth was sure vanity would be. But his gave never dropped close enough to the floor to spot them.

They paused outside the door, Jareth silently gesturing her to check the air for sound and scent. She sniffed at the bottom of the wooden door. Fear. Very strong and oddly similar to the artificial smell of strawberries. But it was most defiantly fear. There were no Gremlins though. And she could hear something odd, something her wolfish mind wouldn't let her comprehend. But it sounded like a chi8ld demanding something from the tone of it. Sarah shook her head, pulling back her upper lip. Showing that she couldn't smell any guards, but that didn't mean there was no danger. She looked behind them, back down the stairs. Gods this place was claustrophobic. No doubt it would have been much worse had she been in her human form, and if that bizarre feeling of rightness had left her.

Looking back to Jareth, she was met by the sight of his black leather clad knees. She turned her eyes upwards to his human face as his hand slowly opened the door with a quiet, almost unnoticeable creak. She stayed as a wolf, not entirely sure how to return to her human form. With a heavy sigh he walked into the room beyond, flicking a crystal at her that suddenly made the child's voice horrifically easy to interoperate.

Most of the room was blocked off by sturdy, magically reinforced bars with the most hardy and vile inmates locked away behind them. And there she was, with a male Nymph forced against the wall, her tiny hand trying to fight its way down his tattered trousers and he struggled against her pathetically. "Now now, why so shy?" she asked in that repulsively innocent voice. "I thought you'd love getting the chance to fuck me. After all, I do look about the age of your other little girls." He yelled something back art her frantically and in the tongue of his people.

"Vanity!" Jareth snapped harshly as Sarah stalked warily into the room to stand by his side.

The tiny Satyr turned her eyes to him and immediately dropped her latest play thing. Her over large doe eyes lit up and with two bounds of her grey pigmy goat legs she had ran to the bars and sprang onto the middle cross bar to be level with his eyes.

"I knew you'd get your arse here eventually. But you certainly took your time sweet fucking time."

"I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but I see you're still sick and twisted perversion of your kind," he replied in disgust.

"You mean that one?" She asked sweetly, gesturing to the trembling Nymph. "Oh, he was loving it."

"Because I'm sure it's possible to enjoy a child like psychopath trying to give you a hard on so she can kill you and screw your corpse," bit the King back sarcastically. Vanity had repulsed him when he first met her, little had changed. He simply wasn't shocked by her horrific actions any more.

She smiled in response, her innocent ten year olds' face looking to him seeking some sort of praise and her delicate hands clung to the metal, the tiny horns on her brow only making her look all the more youthful.

"You are here to get me out of this run down heap of shit, aren't you?" He sneered at her, wishing he could simply leave her there to rot. Unfortunately she had been the most deadly part of his squadron and so he had no choice but to free her, however partially he might be doing it.

"Regretfully, yes I am." Her smile softened, taking years from her appearance. His lip curled in disgust.

Gently, he grabbed Sarah by the scruff of her houndish neck and took a far more rough hold of Vanity's arm, hoping he would at least leave a bruise. With little concentration, he focused on an area of the Upperground and began to pull all three of them through the barrier.

Pain slashed though his chest. Shock raced through his neck. The world warped as he tried to transport them. Everything span. Colour blurred. Sounds crashed against his ears. He hit something with a splash and was conscious just long enough to register he was surrounded by something wet and warm.

A/N Okay, you know the drill. Now you've read it pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease review. I'd love your opinions on this increadible bothersome chapter that fought me every sentence of the way.

Thank you to White Rose Withering, crystal13moon, AngelMusic, sweetbabby33, MelodyWolfhart, Anij, soneone noneexistent and omen overlord. As always I much appreciate it. You're brilliant people for taking the time to tell me what you think.

As for what is coming when I eventually finish this story, my warped little mind has come up with something that I can't ignore. While I might write a prequal to this story eventually I have a new idea in the works that will most likely be half finished by the time I've finished this.

Some of you may have noticed an increase in the rating. I asure this is only to acomodate Vanity and the occasional joke. Everything else will continue the same as before.