"Ambrocious, unlock this door!"

The infirmary wing was situated in the left-hand wing of the castle. It had been a 'war measure' inflicted upon Jareth and his castle by the leaders of the Realm for the upcoming war. Customary measure, they said. Oh, goodie. In fact, was a waste of time. The kingdom already had its own adequate medical facilities spread out around the land. Therefore, a new medical wing in the castle was laughable, comical even. Jareth knew the real reason why the Realm wanted the new medical wing – to dry up the Goblin Kingdom's funds. So that Jareth couldn't raise his own army. Well, a bigger army that he had now, that is. Thus, the medical wing was built and the Realm armies moved in as 'reinforcements'. The construction had taken out a whole floor full of servant's quarters and guest rooms. Jareth wouldn't have minded, if it weren't for the fact that now he had a hundred and twenty unhoused servants left wanting. What particularly annoyed it was the fact that he had not been compensated for such a loss to his staff, nor was he likely to be. The Realm held their purse strings tight when it came to fiscal matters. Now, Jareth had homeless servants sleeping in the corridors of his palace, most likely wondering around at night, and making the place seem untidy. And well, that had always been the goblins court's job. They weren't particularly happy about sharing their place with servants. Goblins could be terribly snobbish sometimes.

So, Jareth had been left with an emergency hospital wing to fund, a menagerie of servants to house and a group of unhappy goblins to please. Not to mention, the troublesome woman who was currently awaiting execution.

All of that, however, could wait.

Jareth had materialised not far from the left wing. The entirety of his chest felt like it was tearing away from him. With a limp arm slung around his waist, he moved towards the blasted infirmary. It was the last place he wanted to go, but the slicing pain made him move towards it. He clicked his way to the medical hall, boots tapping against the stone walls as he went, and pushed open the large wooden doors with force. Of course, the place was practically empty. A goblin nurse shrieked slightly at the sight of the King and waggled her way out of the room. The only other person in the large domed room was the person Jareth needed to see.

"Grannus!" Jareth shouted, not caring if the man was a foot away from him. Unlike the rest of his subjects, Grannus didn't shrink away from the boisterous monarch, but instead turned to welcome him.

"Welcome, my King. How may I help you today?" Grannus said with the warmth of a bubbling, thermal spring. Everything that spilled from the physician's mouth had always been soothing, but like a healing waters Jareth associated him with, he knew one thing: such waters could be slippery, turbulent and changeable.

Much the same applied to Grannus.

"Ever so welcoming, Grannus," Jareth slurred, holding onto the unoccupied wooden cot in front of him. Grannus smiled, close mouthed, his lips stretching over teeth like sun-worn leather. "You know why I'm here."

With that Grannus nodded curtly, grabbed a box of vials and instruments from the desk beside him and wandered casually over to Jareth's side. His medical robes trailed along the ground. "Sit," he commanded. Jareth scowled, but sat down on the neatly made cot anyway. Grannus had been part of the customary war measures. He had arrived, garbed in the cream embroider robe he wore now, full of pomp, overzealous about his profession and prickly to boot. Since his arrival, he had been a constant thorn in Jareth's ever aching side. He had hoped that the man would not be a success. Goblins were suspicious by nature and new comers were treated with the greatest uncertainty. Unfortunately for the Jareth, however, Grannus had been a well-received within the Kingdom. After saving a newly fledged Goblin from a particularly bad chicken accident, he had been named a hero and a brilliant physician. The Goblins loved him.

It was really enough to make you sick, the way they cooed over him.

Grannus stood before Jareth, waiting. Jareth rolled his eyes. "What are you waiting for, Grannus. Give me the damn vial."

Jareth snatched for the instruments in Grannus's hands. But he was weak, his arms failed him and they slumped to the side. He managed to grunt, annoyed at his subject. "Give it to me. Now."

Grannus stood there, unmoving. Looking down at his king with his skin-bleached skin and fiery hair like he was a petulant infant. "I must see the wounds, You Highness, otherwise I cannot recommend a dose." It was an accent that was not familiar in the Goblin Kingdom, lyrical and finely tuned.

"Damn you. Of course you can, just give me the same." Jareth snorted. The action made him loose his breath, and he leaned against the cot side for support. He held out one gloved hand towards Grannus.

Grannus turned away, placing his equipment on the cot-side table. He stooped slightly, hands reaching out, ready to examine Jareth. He waited for Jareth to nod, giving him right away to touch him, and then placed his hands on each side of Jareth's face. He scanned his bloodshot eyes, the way his hair had become limp and the overall paleness of his skin. "This will not do," he said finally. Then he nodded, "If you will." He indicated to Jareth's side and turned to give the king some privacy.

This is truly the bit Jareth hated the most. On a regular day, he avoided looking at his mangled body as much as he could. Concealing it from the world and sometimes even himself. If he felt particularly ill, he could always project a healthy image to his court. They would see the spry monarch, not the defeated man. Sometimes the illusions were so good, Jareth could almost fool himself. However, when the pain became unbearable, such as now, he had no choice but to acknowledge it. To confront the crippling bond that had formed as soon as Sarah rejected him. When she had cast him away and won. It had been a game of high stakes, not just for Sarah, but for Jareth too. If he lost, not only did he lose something mighty precious to him but he would also become this: a husk of his former self. The bond would search inwardly to fulfil its purpose, until there was nothing more to Jareth than a fleshy embodiment of eternal pain. The bond would peck at him, just as vultures would pick at a corpse, eternally until a dried out skeleton remained.

With a heavy groan, Jareth began to undress his top half. Soon, his cloak and waistcoat were on the floor. All that remained was his light undershirt. And that would remain. Even with the shirt on, Grannus could see the grey lacerations traveling up Jareth's torso.

Grannus turned back to him and began to roll up his shirt to see the gaping, blackened wound that splayed across his chest. Jareth knew what he would see there. Both of them had seen it many times before. Just below his ribs was a blackened jagged wound, gaping and twisting like it had a mind of its own. In fact, it did. But this time, it bond lay dormant. Usually, it only pulsated and twisted when Jareth was alone. Almost sensing another presence, it stopped tightening giving Jareth room to breathe comfortably. Grannus murmured something incoherently as she prodded and poked at the fleshy grey lines that sprouted out from the wounds, coiling around his entire body like the roots of a tree. They all followed the same direction, spreading out from the wound in an anticlockwise motion. Jareth knew it had gotten worse. Knew that what Grannus was seeing now was far more horrific than what he had seen a month past. The tendrils had managed to make their way Jareth's collarbone and possibly down the front of his biceps. Luckily, they hadn't travelled to his all too visible hands yet. They had a tendency of changing in the middle of the night and the next morning, it would be like Jareth was staring at a completely different pattern.

Jareth had had enough of Grannus examining him, humming with interest as his warm fingers prodded his side, pinching the bruised skin. "Enough," Jareth said, pulling down his cotton shirt.

Grannus stepped back with a nod and began to search through his bundle. His back was turned slightly away from Jareth as he spoke, "Your Majesty, I must ask this of you again –"

"I'm sure you must…" Jareth drawled, sucking in a drag of breath as he stood and began to tuck in his shirt.

Grannus continued, "Are you in fact sure this is iron poisoning, not something more?" Grannus eyed Jareth with a speculative stare. Jareth's gaze never wavered from that far too inquisitive look. Of course, he could and never would tell Grannus the truth. Even if he was administering him with sedatives and healing elixirs. No, the bonding could never be fixed by crushed up roots and leaves, even with a hint of magic to make them stick. Jareth knew the cure, but it was forever out of his grasp. She would never accept. He knew that for certain.

Jareth chose his words carefully, "What else could it be?"

Grannus sighed and began mixing powers together, "I do not know. If it is truly a case of iron poisoning, the pain should have lessened by now. Especially with doses I'm administrating. That, combined with your magical abilities should have cure it." He coughed, eyeing Jareth again, "Any lesser fae would have perished at the amount of iron coursing through their veins, but not you."

"Indeed," Jareth said, folding the rest of his garments over his arm. He was in too much pain to even consider putting them back on. Decency be damned!

"You must be careful, my King," Grannus said, pouring the green powder into a separate vial and adding some clumpy-looking liquid. "If the court find out–"

"If the court finds out, Grannus, then you have not done your duty. You will have betrayed your king." Jareth interjected, "I think you know, even for a newcomer to the kingdom, that I am not the most tolerant man when it comes to such matters." Jareth grinned, "Do we understand each other?"

Grannus didn't flinch. He handed Jareth the vial of mint green cream and nodded, "I think we are, Your Majesty."

Before Grannus could even blink, Jareth vanished leaving a trail of dark grey powder on the floor around his robe. With a roll of the eyes, Grannus flicked the despicable glitter from his robes and called an orderly to clean it.

Jareth rematerialized in his chambers. The windows were slung open and a soft breeze drifted in from outside. It was cool in the room, the curtain tails billowed out across the hard stone flooring. Jareth however, was feverish. His cheeks were burning, his brow was covered in a smooth coating of sweat and his hair felt decidedly flat. Shoving his garments onto the neatly made bed, Jareth collapsed in the middle of the chamber, falling onto his side. Kicking out his legs, he began breathing heavily and held his side. Black spots appeared around his vision again as he stared at the beamed ceiling. One weak hand reached out, feeling around for Grannus's vial. Finger nails hit stone, splaying out, only to come back hopeless. The last vestige of strength Jareth had he had used to mock Grannus. How dare undermine his King…How dare he think…

Jareth reached for the vial again, groaning as pain lashed through him. He was finding it difficult to breath. His hands searched, until finally, his left hand grasped the little vial. Jareth didn't want to move, to inflict further pain, but he knew he needed to apply the ointment. Struggling for strength and breath, Jareth hunched himself over and crawled towards the bed post. There, he propped himself up and rolled up his shirt again. With shaky hands, he opened the vial and let the clumpy liquid pour onto his free hand. Soon, he was rubbing the liquid into his swollen, bruised skin. It began to sooth. He tried to avoid looking at the ink stain that marked and scarred his flesh, but all no matter where he looked, he saw his reflection staring back at him. Too vain for your own good, he thought as he applied more ointment and worked it into the finer lines of watered down ink spread out across his body.

When the bottle was empty, Jareth let it fall from his hand and roll across the stone floor. His head fell back against the smooth wooden bedpost and he breathed deeply. Silence encompassed the room and he could feel the pain seeping out of him like a blood flowing freely from a vein. The sensation felt good, however it only numbed the pain for a few hours. Sometimes a day if he was lucky. However, with the amount of treatment he had undergone, Jareth was doubtful it would last two hours. No, this felt nothing like it had when he had touched Sarah. Then, it seemed like the pain had only been a fragment of his imagination. That the scare which marred his pale body was a simple illusion, meant to cloud his mobility.

If only he could touch her again.

Of course, no one had told Jareth of Sarah's presence in the Underground. Many knew of the symbiotic relationship the Labyrinth and its king shared. It was part and parcel of the Goblin Kingdom, therefore they would expect Jareth to be the first one to know of her presence. Their tardiness did not do them credit, but their actions did: she was in the dungeons awaiting execution.

Goodie.

The Goblin dungeons were exactly as Sarah had expected them to be: grim.

Could be worse, Sarah thought, it could be the Oubliette.

Three moss covered walls and one large barred grate separated her from the outside world. More importantly, they separated her from the Goblin King. And his neck. If she could, Sarah would certainly not hesitate in strangling the man. What was his game, putting her in here and threatening execution?

Sarah had decided after that bunched up military commando had thrown her in here that she was decidedly not going to executed at first light. That was not happening. Sarah's mind couldn't even being to contemplate what death actually meant, so she had decided it was better to live in denial. Blissfully denying her imminent death had at least made Sarah calm down. She had been perfectly fine when the goblin soldiers had manhandled her, but it was the handcuffs that sent Sarah into a fury. She refused to wear them, scuttled around as they tried to restrain her. Admittedly, it had been a hard fight. Thirty goblin warriors against one twenty-five year old women, who had little to none combat training, had levelled out the playing field against Sarah. Soon, the handcuffs were chafing her wrists and she was rattling chains as she walked. Sarah hardly thought this kind of treatment was necessary – nor did the commander and chief, Dathan. As they marched back to the Castle, and to her doom, Dathan kept giving Sarah pitying looks down from his strange, alien looking horse. Yes, he was still a jumped up commando without a buzz cut, but even he could tell Sarah was hardly a threat to the Goblin National Security. So that's why she was somewhat grateful to him, when they reached the cell she was now confined in, that he allowed her to be released from the cold bindings.

The most humiliating thing, apart from having a military guard surrounding Sarah, was the walk to the castle. Every citizen within the Goblin city had watched with big, curious eyes as the guards escorted her through the courtyard. Many were confused, others whispered. Obviously, the news of her arrival had spread throughout the kingdom. She didn't know if that having her paraded through the streets with a platoon of Goblin warriors was part of Jareth's plan, but it was sure starting up a ruckus. Sarah could hear her name being muttered around the place, within the crowds of people gathering around. At first, she was afraid they would attack. After all, the last time Sarah had been in the Goblin City, she had battled with the army and broke most of it. She might not know how the Underground worked, but in the Upperground, things like that were never forgotten. However, by the time they had reached the castle entrance, Sarah had realised that the look on the people's faces were not ones of anger, but of awe. Confusing.

Even inside the castle, many within the Goblin court, some in their finery and others looking downright bedraggled, had gasped and murmured when they caught a glimpse of Sarah. Under their breath, Sarah could hear the words, "She's back" and "It's Sarah Williams" being spoken. Other such mumblings, Sarah couldn't understand. She assumed they were in Goblin tongue. However, each utterance made her feel more and more uncomfortable. How did these people know about her? Had her time in the Labyrinth caused such an effect? Being surrounded by armour soldiers didn't give Sarah much of a viewpoint when it came to seeing the crowds around her, but there was one particular person whom Sarah wanted to see. Jareth.

She had expected him to be there, gloating over her. But he wasn't. And his absence was very much noted. Not only by her, but also the crowds. Along with her name, there were mentions of their king, his feelings and most importantly, what he was going to do to her. Execution, of course, had been mentioned.

Soon, Sarah was thrust into a small, cramped stairwell away from the onlookers and pushed down into the recesses of the castle dungeons. They looked like your A-typical dungeon; dank, bleak and where hopes came to die. Sarah was thrust into a cell at the end of stone passageway. "A private one, just for her ladyship," a wart-covered Goblin had said, as he unceremoniously pushed her into the cubbyhole of a cell. That statement confused her to no ends. And, then, just as soon as they arrived, the Goblin soldiers left, leaving Sarah in a dank, cold, mouldy prison cell without water or food. There was, however, a small dish in the corner of the dungeon. Sarah had accidently kicked it when they had thrown her in here and watched, revolted, as the discoloured contents spilled out onto the straw covered floor. If it was any guess, that would be her toilet for the foreseeable future. Sarah didn't know how much time had passed. There was no light within the dungeons to even guess the hour. But she could feel the night creeping upon her as her eyes grew heavy and head began to ache. There was a little canopy bed laid out at the back of the cell. It was likely four footsteps away, but the rancid water had managed to backsplash across the straw filled mattress making it look unappealing place to sleep. Instead, Sarah stood, hugging her body with her flannelled arms and rubbing her cold toes against the smooth, downy fabric on her legs to keep them warm.

The next thing she knew, there was a change in the guards. Sarah hadn't even known there were goblins guarding her until she saw their small, armoured frames trek, huffing and puffing, back up the stairs and into the square of light that greeted them. The next guard was sure to come back down. She expected two, but in fact, there was only one. A small, bushy tailed fox with a feather in his hat and all too familiar looking whiskers. Sir Didymus.

He was whistling a happy tune as he bounced down the narrow steps to stand at his post. His back was turned to her, probably not expecting anyone to guard to be in the dungeons. From what Sarah could see, it didn't look like the place was used that often.

Sarah felt like a block of ice, but she made her way forward towards the opening grate and called out, "Sir Didymus?" When she spoke, it didn't sound like it. Her voice was rough and gritty like she had accidently swallowed sand. And her throat burned for a sip of water.

With a jump, his little feather bouncing in the air, he turned. His little fox face fell when he saw her, trapped behind the dungeon bars. "Lady Sarah, is that you?"

Sarah's hands were gripping tight to the grate. The pressure points on her knuckles grew white from the force of it. She bent slightly to look at Sir Didymus, "Yes, it's me."

Didymus came closer, "Oh, dear, my lady. How can this be?" His eyes searched her cell for some sort of answer. Sarah was the one who gave him it.

"Jareth," she said, scorn dripping from her mouth, "He tricked me. I knew I shouldn't have agreed." She signed, her hands falling loose at her sides, "But I… I thought he would hurt you, my friends, even my family. And I…I couldn't let that happen." Sarah sighed, placing her forehead against the cool grate. "I'm such a fool."

"Oh dear," he said, fighting slightly, "I must say, as royal knight, I am sworn to uphold honour to the King, yet, I do think you're right in this one. He had duped you, and very badly too."

Sarah crumpled onto the floor. She didn't even care about how the stagnant water began to seep into her trouser leg. Her head rested against the grate, her chin downcast towards the muddied stones beneath her. Sir Didymus touched her chin with his paw through an opening in the grate and tilted her chin to face him. His fox eyes stared back at her through the darkness. "My lady Sarah, you are no fool," he said with softness in his voice, "From what I have seen, I know you would have not acted out of foolishness, but out of courage." He grinned, "I am a knight after all; I know courage when I see it."

"You're forgetting something," Sarah said, a hint of a smile on her lips. Sir Didymus tilted his head to the side, "You are loyal knight, and once, the faithful Guardian of the Bridge, who helped a young girl save her brother and defeat the Goblin King!" She had whispered it with such authority and spirit, that Sir Didymus's chest filled with pride.

"Hm," Didymus said, his paw touching his chin, "You are correct, Lady Sarah." And with that, he walked away. Something dropped inside of Sarah as she watched her little friend retreat away from her. She closed her eyes to the darkness and let a wave of helplessness wash over her. There is no way out of this, is there?

The jangle of something metallic pulled Sarah out of her stupor. Keys.

Sir Didymus stood before her, a large circle of keys in his paw, "You are always right Lady Sarah, I helped you once before. I shall help you now."

Sarah stood, shocked and confused by her friends act against the King, "But what about the Goblin King?"

Sir Didymus opened the gate with a swing and held it open for Sarah. "Sometimes, I do think that Hoggle is correct in his assumption of the King; he's an unmitigated ass."

A/N: I was gone longer than expected. Sorry about the wait. Enjoy the new chapter! (FYI: This chapter does need some revision - it's more of a filler)