Author's Note: Chap 10 is here, kids, and sense you asked for it, I gave you a peek into Morrigan's twisted past. Enjoy, and I expect a ton of reviews, or I willhold the next chapter ransom!

Chapter 10: Wearing the Inside Out.

The moon was cast in a blood-red tint, and Dantes felt the oncoming threat in the night air. He sat in silence by the dying fire, tracing shapes in the dirt with a twig, thinking of the girl in the tent behind him. She was so caught up in all the lies that damned King had been feeding her. Didn't she know that with immortality came the inability to truly and selflessly love. In the end, you are timeless and the one you love is not, so you don't love. Everything leaves, everything dies.

In a tattered castle in the dark some where, a former princess echoed the same words in her own thoughts. Everyone leaves, everyone dies; nothing is forever, not even happiness. Especially not happiness. These days, it was easier to never feel happy than to feel brief euphoria only to have it end. All that pain, all those years of a sadness and fear greater than thought possible, all was channeled into the dark well inside her. All her power flowed from there, all she was, all that was left. Morrigan felt herself fade back as she sat at the window, with its black tattered curtain blowing in the night breeze.

She looked down at her hands, as they rested in her lap. She lifted them to the dim light of the red moon, and she could see through them. There was a short time at night when her power would finally shut down, give her rest, momentary peace. All that was left after the power abandoned her body was an empty shell, a wavy form that was her being. When some one so dark hold on to their pain as long as she did, when they have molded into themselves to base a power so great off it, it becomes their essence. Her power was so much of her aura that when it left her, she herself was a thin film, a haze across the moon.

When her force left her, there was nothing to do but wait. There was time, and time meant thinking. And thinking meant reliving her past. Reliving those bloody days that made her who she was today. Those moments of terror that she memorized and made her own, those moments she turned around, turned into something useful. They would never take from her what they took that day. Not again. She had taken more from them than they had to give when she found them again.

Morrigan closed her vacant eyes, feeling the breeze pass through her. From the dark of her mind, she conjured up a time when life was nothing but sunshine. And then blood. But first there had been happiness.

The dark surrounded him, deep in the woods, alone save for Loki. In his hand was a crystal, and with in the crystal was the waning image of Morrigan. He watched her close her eyes, knew she was thinking of that time, just before the bloodshed. Jareth closed his eyes as well, letting his mind find hers in the past they shared, years upon years ago. And with her, he relived it.

The Grand Ball was held on a hot summer night, somewhere in the middle of July, when youth is in blossom and lust is a force all it's own. Young royalty filled the halls and the ballroom, swaying, laughing, touching each other in dark corners. Dresses swished by, young women peeking over masks to tease the object of their affection. One in particular was stunningly beautiful, with hair the color of the fire that danced in her eyes. He was smitten from the moment they had met. She was the King of Dahlia's daughter, and this was to be her castle. He was the tall, lanky Prince of the Goblins, with an awkward laugh and unkempt hair. He was in sapphire blue, and she a shining red ruby that caught and held his attention as soon as he spotted her dancing. He pretended not to stare, but she caught him several times, as he danced with others. Finally, thin fingers encircled his wrist, and he was pulled from his partner in the red-gloved grasp of the little princess.

"Hi," she was the most beautiful creature in the room.

"Hello," he tried not to sound as nervous as he felt. His hands found her waist and they began to dance.

As they spun about the room, she laughed and whispered things in his ear.He found

himself so in love with her that he didn't let her go when the next song began. She smiled.

"It's my birthday you know."

"I know."

"How?"

"Because your father throws a ball for every birthday you've had since you could walk."

"I was dancing before I could walk."

He laughed and spun her faster. They danced until they were so dizzy they could barely stand, and she pulled him out onto one of the balconies for some air.

"You are amazing." He laughed, gasping the cold air into his lungs.

"What?" she asked, even though she had heard.

"You're amazing!" he shouted at the stars.

She threw her head back, laughing until tears came. Her laugh sounded like the music of heaven to his ears. He laughed with her. And then she kissed him. Morrigan felt that it was the bravest thing she had ever done in her short life. She kissed him on the mouth and he kissed her back. And they kissed until Jareth heard a strange noise below them. He pulled away, despite her disappointed grunt.

"Shhh," he cautioned her.

He peered over the balcony's edge, and below them, he saw men approaching the castle on foot. They wore armor, the first hint that they were not party guests. And from the large swords they wielded, they did not come to play nice.

"Run, Morrigan, tell your father!"

She was a red blur flying behind him as she raced for the ball room. Jareth took one last look, and as the fear crept through him, he turned and ran after her.

"Father!" And as she shouted, there were screams in the stair well and the sound of boots on the ivory stairs.

The King turned at his daughters frightened shouts, but the men that thundered into the room held his attention.

What happened next was a blur. The leader had the King on his knees before any one could call the guards, and another had the Queen with a knife at her throat.

"What do you want? Take the gold, take anything."

"We have come for one thing." The way the man spoke, with a deep guttural growl, Jareth new he wasn't human. He could see fangs, and the brow was oddly distorted.

"What? Take anything!"

The leader gestured to one of his men, and the man nodded. Suddenly, his eyes were on Jareth. No behind him. Jareth felt Morrigan grab his hand. He turned to see her eyes go all big with fear, and as he turned back to face the man, a force came across the side of his jaw that knocked him flat. Stars shot everywhere from his vision. He heard Morrigan scream, and through the haze in his head, he saw the man grab her. She screamed again, kicking, but it was to no avail.

The leader growled again. "The prophecy shall never be fulfilled. If we are followed, I will kill her."

And then they were gone. The Queen screamed. And she didn't stop. Jareth heard her screams long after he left that night.

This, however, was not the last bad day that this castle would witness. As it was later discovered, after the King called upon a seer to determine what prophecy the man had spoke of, that the truth about Morrigan's destiny was discovered. It was prophesied, that Morrigan would one day kill the Lord of the Darklands with the help of her father's army, and take his army and the Darklands for her own. The Lord was less than pleased when he learned of this, and so had sent his men to retrieve her and turn her to their side so she wouldn't be tempted to kill him. He knew she would be of great power, and he wanted to use that to his benefit.

But as it turned out, Lord Demetrius's plan backfired horribly. He put Morrigan through hell to make her into some sort of vicious assassin. No one ever suspected a quiet girl, pale with red lips and hair would ever be a danger to any one. But she was. And on her sixteenth birthday, exactly one year later, she killed Demetrius with his own sword, which she buried deep into his gut as he slept. And as she watched his life fade, as he choked on the blood that bubbled from his lips, she smiled. She then licked the blood from his bottom lip, and as he cursed her with his last breath, she spat his own blood back into his face.

Morrigan's journey towards true evil didn't stop there. As it were, the King and Queen of Dahlia had mourned for some time over their lost daughter, until the Queen discovered she was pregnant. Meanwhile, Morrigan spent a year waging war on all of those threatening her lands now that Demetrius was dead. Her new army butchered all their enemies, with her leading the battle with Demetrius's very sword. It was during this time of uncontrolled rage that she learned of the birth of a princess in a land so familiar. And on the day of little Merriwyn's first birthday, her sister stormed the castle where she had once ran wild. Jareth himself was there, with many others from her childhood. The only thing he heard before he saw her was screaming as the doors burst open and the hall was flooded with creatures of great and uncontrolled evil. As he set eyes on his childhood love, Jareth didn't even know her, not at first. The fire in her eyes was gone, replaced with a bloodlust greater than that of anyone he's ever met. Her hair was no longer the color of fire, but the color of blood. Her skin was white as marble, with muscle that rippled underneath, betraying her hidden strength.

The King lay eyes on his long lost daughter, tears forming in his eyes as the realization hit him. Her mother gasped.

"Morrigan, darling?"

Those were the great King's last words, as Morrigan swung her twin swords and beheaded him in front of his own guests. As party goers fled in confusion and fear, screaming, Morrigan went on to slaughter her mother and baby sister in one breath. No one returned to the castle to clean the carnage or assess the damage. No one challenged anyone for the lands. Morrigan had taken what was meant to be hers. And she had never been the same...

The reverie ended as Morrigan felt her power rejoin with her body, the blackness and what was left of her soul becoming one yet again. Jareth felt it too; the surge of power carried through the night on the breeze. He shuddered, for she was the most powerful thing he had ever felt. Her magic was dark, full of death and shadow. She frightened him, and the Goblin King does not scare easy.

His thoughts turned to some one of a lighter disposition, but still with darkness lying beneath it. Sarah was a much different girl than the one that had wished away her crying brother at the age of 15. Her life had taken a darker path than he would have liked for her, with the drugs and self-deprecation. Had she been exposed to what Morrigan had, he feared she too would be a creature of the dark, some so angry and powerful that it consumed them. Soon, Morrigan's power would be all there was to her, and the soul would completely evaporate. She would be as good as dead. He feared bringing Sarah in such close contact with someone so like what she could become. Would she be swayed? Was she naturally dark, or conditioned that way based on what she had been through? There was no way of truly knowing.

The King sighed and closed his eyes. Sleep was a far off dream, but he would try. Far off some where in the dark, he heard a screech owl cry, and a wolf howl. He prayed to gods he didn't even believe in that some one was keeping Sarah safe.

Some where in the dark, a screech owl sounded, and Sarah sat up abruptly from sleep. The tent was dark and she was alone, but the feeling that she was being watched made the fine hair on her arms stand up. She stood, as she was no longer being bound, and walked outside. The moon cast a bluish light over the ground, and the line of trees was as clear as if the sun had been out. She thought briefly of running, of letting the wind carry her far from here. Even if she got lost, she'd be free.

"Don't even think about it." A voice to her right startled her.

Dantes stepped from the shadows. Her eyes were wide with fear as they settled on the knife at his hip. She swallowed and looked him in the eyes, narrowing her own.

"You don't scare me. You will die for what you have done."

"Maybe so," he took a few steps, coming closer to her. She ignored the urge to back up. "But at least I will die as a brave man, unafraid of war and death."

"You will die a fool and your name will die with you."

He walked right up to her and cuffed her across the jaw. Sarah crumpled to the ground. She shook herself and glared up at him through her mass of dark hair.

"Feel better now? Wow, you really shut me up." She climbed slowly to her feet, never taking her eyes off them. Blood was filling her mouth from where she had bit her tongue. She spat it on his boots.

Dantes made an angry sound from his throat, and that anger flashed in his eyes and he struck her again, harder. Sarah stumbled back, but kept her footing this time.

"So you can hit me. Big deal. I'm smaller than you. Am I really a big challenge? Keep hitting, I'll keep getting up and pissing you off. You'll get tired eventually, and I'll have won."

He came at her, and suddenly his hands were around her throat, tightening. She could breath, but she wouldn't be able to much longer.

"I could kill you right now, and no one would do anything." His breath was hot on her face and he reeked of alcohol.

"What are you so afraid of? That you'll lose your life over some girl instead of in this war you love so much? I die, you die, plain and simple." She choked on her words.

"I'll kill him before he can save you."

"Then I'll kill you."

He laughed. Blood was pooling at the back of her throat again, and Sarah coughed. He looked at her, and she spat it right in his smug face. He swore and dropped her. Sarah scrambled away, out of his reach.

"Damn woman, you are a devil of a thing." He wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt and stomped his boots in the dirt. He looked at her, cowering on the ground in the dirt. She was afraid, but she would fight back until he knocked her unconscious or killed her.

"Get up." He gestured at her. She stared at him, unmoving. "Get up out of the dirt, you stupid girl. I'm not going to hurt you." He walked over to her and held out his hand to help her up.

For a moment, she hesitated, wondering if he would help her up only to throw her back down. But when she looked in his eyes, she knew he wasn't lying. Sarah grasp his hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She dusted herself off and stood, not really knowing what to do next.

Dantes preceded to sit by the dying fire, stirring the embers, catching the wood with a new flame. Sarah sat across from him, as the chill of night air had finally reached her. She stared at the fire and he stared at her. She could feel his eys, and when she finally met them, he didn't look away.

"Why this war?" She finally asked. "It's not a threat to you, and it is no where near the Goblin Kingdom. Why change that? War is not a good thing,"

He sighed. "The elves have been our allies in many a battle, and they are dying. They need our help. And our enemies wont stop once they finish them off. They are heading straight for the Goblin City, whether or not your King wishes to acknowledge it. I am not bringing war to the Underground, but I will fight to prevent it."

She was silent. If he was right, then why was Jareth so reluctant to fight. If these armies were really after the Underground, then why not kill them before they get to the heart of it? Would he wait until it was too late? She couldn't risk that. She had friends in the Goblin City that she cared about more than most of her family. She couldn't just sit back and let them die. But still, she didn't believe that the King would ignore a true threat. He had been the King many of her life times over, so he must be doing something right. So why ignore this threat? Why let this war come when he had prevented so many others?

She was silent after that. Dantes watched her for a while as she stared at everything but him. She really one of the most beautiful mortals he had ever seen. But she was dark. Her aura was a dark purple with red veins running through it. She was damaged. What had mere mortal endured to turn her aura that color? His own had lost most of it's purity, but he had done things mortal men couldn't imagine. There was something about her, that was obvious because the King had never fallen for a mortal, not that he had ever heard of.

Sarah looked at him. She could tell he was wondering about her. The curiosity was plain on his face.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" She snarled at him in the moonlight.

He was taken aback by her foul mouth and obvious lack of care about being a lady. "You are a rather vulgar heathen aren't you?"

"Why do you care?"

"As you may one day be a future Queen, your attitude is a concern of mine."

Sarah looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Since you plan on dethroning him, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"I don't wish to dethrone you King, m'lady. I merely wish to pull the wool he has covered his own eyes with off and show him the war for what it is."

"And what is it? What makes it so different?"

"It's a threat we need to acknowledge and deal with, but it is also an opportunity to expand our control, our lands. We can better ourselves as a people with more land and more knowledge. People don't have to die, Sarah, we can learn from each other."

"How do you know my name?" She realized she hadn't exactly introduced herself.

"I know more about you than you may think, little heathen." He reached for a bottle setting in the dirt and ash by the hide he sat on. Taking a swig, he offered her the bottle.

Sarah wrinkle her nose but took it, wiping the mouth of it off before taking a swig her self. He laughed at that. The crude whisky burned it's way down to her stomach. She handed it back, hiding the fact she felt as if she'd swallowed paint thinner.

"Why?" She asked after a few moment and a few more sips. It went down smoother every time.

"Why what?" he asked, taking the bottle from her.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why do you care?"

"This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with your King."

"He won't surrender, even for me. He'll kill you and take me back and you'll have gained nothing but passage to the Underworld. Then wont you feel silly." Her words were slightly slurred, and she knew it.

"If he doesn't, surrender I mean, not even for you, then he doesn't deserve to have you anyways." Dantes was feeling rather intoxicated, and he knew he had to be careful of what he said, lest he give himself away. He was attracted to her, even though he wanted to kick the daylights out of her.

Sarah laughed as if that were the funniest thing she had ever heard. And laughed again too. And the more they drank, the more they laughed, and the more funny everything seemed. The stars above her head blurred, and the fire danced before her. Sarah's head spun. She closed her eyes and could see herself, years ago, dancing in a dress much to old for her, masked faces leering from every angle. They didn't go away when she opened her eyes.

The next thing she knew, Sarah woke up in her tent, bundled in blankets, the rising sun turning the sky a soft pink. She rolled over, away from the peeking light between the tent flaps, feeling groggy and disoriented. Her head throbbed, and her limbs felt oddly numb. She vaguely remembered the night before, and knew she had been extremely drunk. Feeling rather foolish, she buried her head under her blankets and fell back asleep.

He stood atop the mountain, staring into the valley below him. The sun had risen only hours before, and he had until sunset to wait. Still, he couldn't pull himself away from the circle of fallen stones, the remnants of an ancient castle rumored to be greater than his own. He turned away and walked back to where Loki stood, patiently grazing. He patted the horse and grazed his fingers across the old stone before him. He pressed his palm fully against it, closing his eyes and letting his power push against the memory around the rock. He could feel life, or the essence of life once lived at this spot. He could relive the energy that had once pulsed through these walls. There was a dying sense of celebration, but also of great sadness, not unlike that felt in Morrigan's castle. He opened his eyes and withdrew his gloved hand. Had his fingers been naked, he would have been swung into full-on visions of the past, carried along to relive moments in the lives of it's long dead possessors. He wasn't a fan of being sucked into someone else's past. He shook the tingles from his fingers. With nothing else to do, he returned to the edge of the cliff to sit against an old stump. He lifted his hand, and with a wave, a crystal in his hand. He tossed it into the air, catching it, and gazing into his depths. Her brown eyes appeared, and he settled back, to watch her, and to wait.