Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything you recognize from the movie and/or the book. The characters and places that you recognize from the movie and/or the book belong to their respective owners. Though, I DO own the rights to all my personal locations and personal OC's. I make no monetary profit from this story.

Morning dawned the next day, clear and bright in the soon to be winter kissed Easternlands. Crystallized dew clung valiantly to blades of grass, refusing…somewhat pointlessly…to give into the warming rays of the sun. Birds chirped merrily in their nests, mothers shielding their young from the cold with downy wings. Maids flitted about their chores, humming or whistling to themselves as they went along, almost as chipper as the birds in the trees. Even the way the fragile morning sunlight danced over her skin seemed joyful. The whole world seemed like some obnoxiously upbeat human cartoon today.

All they were missing was the damned singing sun, Sorsha mused bitterly. She hadn't at all appreciated being told to go off to some place Cyric, wasn't it so easy how she'd fallen into the habit of calling him that, had called Tent City. She'd quirked a brow at that, but even his hasty admission that it was a very bad temporary name, hadn't lifted her spirits.

Honestly, she sighed on the thought as she ran a hand back over her smoothed hair to make sure the bun was tight and secure at the base of her neck, she didn't mind going. She actually looked forward to the necessity of proving herself once more, for surely she'd need to. What she didn't like was getting thrown in with Eireach at the last moment…when she couldn't negotiate someone else.

But then, that was very unfair and cruel of her to think…and it was a WHOLE other mess for her mind to ache dully over for the next while. She didn't really hate the man, not any more at least, but neither did she like him. Well, she frowned…she did. Her brows drew together further as the frustration of her feelings settled in on her. Her no longer repulsed her, that was true enough. She'd sloughed off the brainwashing her father had drilled into her since infancy. It was hardly Eireach's fault that he was born a nobleman and he'd proved that they weren't all the same…so she really couldn't hold that against him any longer.

So no, she decided, she didn't HATE the man, but by the gods, she still wasn't comfortable around him. What the hell did they have in common, she wondered, falling into her thoughts. Nothing at all, she realized with an odd wave of resentment towards the fact. Her mind drifted further into itself, blurring the world around her.

Seriously though, what in all the worlds, could she even talk to him about? Besides battle and war, she groaned inwardly as she sent was sure to be the millionth curse on her father's soul. Men like Eireach didn't like girls like her, bred and raised to be battle toughened…rough and tomboyish. No, men like him wanted women who were cultured, soft and pretty like Jeaule and Sarah.

Or was she being to harsh on him still?

And why the hell was she even bothering herself over such a ridiculous topic?

She shook her head viciously to clear the rogue thoughts from her mind…and heard someone clearing their throat behind her.

"Um, are you alright?" Oh just perfect, Sorsha cringed to herself at Eireach's voice. Now he'd just think she was mental, lovely…she didn't care.

"I'm fine," she started, ignoring the fact that she hadn't said more than a few stringed words in quite a while. Fumbling for something to distract from her odd behavior came up with something that only made it worse, "There was a bee." Another inner cringe had her wishing that she was alone so she could smack herself. That had to be the stupidest, girliest…and from the look on Eireach's face…LEAST believable excuse she could have com up with.

"Alright."

"Aliright…."

"So are you ready?" he asked, giving her an excuse to drop the subject…she all but POUNCED on it.

"As ever." With their share of awkward silence, they teleported themselves to the banks of the Rialt River, the same that Jareth and Sarah had needed to cross on their way to the Easternlands…and the same she'd lived under her whole life. She banished the dark memories of her past as she stared out over the deep blue water, amazed as she'd always been by the power of it color. Before this, she'd been used to seeing the color filtered down through the crystal ceilings of the caverns.

"You okay?"

She couldn't help the grin, "You've made a real habit of asking that." The smirk lit his face.

"You've developed the habit of making me." The grin still on her face, and the depressing memories of childhood effectively smothered, she turned to look at the infamous Tent City that had been built by the Westernland refugees. It was…impressive…Sorsha deemed. Certainly no one could claim that the hundreds of tents and makeshift storefronts was beautiful, but because of her upbringing, she could at least call it impressive.

Tents were spread out pleasantly in the fields along the Rialt in a wonderful riot of color and texture. Sorsha admired the delicately woven fabrics of some as she despaired at the memories the poorer and rougher hewn materials brought to the surface. She did her best to ignore them as she and Eireach walked silently into the improvised city.

Tent City had been forewarned of their arrival, that much was painfully obvious. Men and women could be seen still straightening and tidying up the place and nearly every person in sight was dressed in fineries that Sorsha was sure weren't for everyday use. She could only hope with a sly smile to herself, that they had other clothes they wouldn't mind getting dirty. She was hardly going to choose soldiers based on pretty looks.

"AH!" The exclamation came from a large, jolly looking man at mid life, balding only at the top of his head so a half ring of salt and pepper hair still hung to his ears. His widespread arms were clothed in a long, deep crimson jacket that teased almost all the way to the knee, partially covering finely made black, velvety pants. His smile was generous, taking over his face with his pearly white splendor. "Lord Tur!" he beamed, shacking Eireach's hand before turning to her. "And the Lady Kael," he said with equal fervor and a short bow.

"General…" she amended. His smile stayed in place, but she could tell that she hadn't been silly to think she'd need to prove herself here as well.

"Of course." But, she noted, he didn't give her the title.

Yet, Sorsha thought…yet.

Eireach noted the demeaning gesture of not giving Sorsha her due title and filed this man away in the 'People NOT To Give The Land To' pile. He figured before the day was over, that pile was going to be overflowing, but he'd come up with AND been given many criteria to judge people on today. One of those points was someone who showed Sorsha her due respect without her having to earn it. Cyric had been very adamant on that point.

It made him grin to know how much trust and respect Sorsha had earned in the few months she'd been with them. But she had earned every bit of it and he was damned sure that everyone else would show her the respect she'd worked her tail off for.

Citizens were beginning to gather in greater numbers now that their identities had been bellowed by the rotund man who'd fashioned himself a leader here. For the briefest of moments, Eireach felt like they were back on the battlefield and had to fight the pulling urge to shove Sorsha behind him. But knowing, one…that Sorsha would likely not appreciate the gesture anyways…and two, no one here was a threat, he calmed himself.

The people around him didn't hold swords or battle axes; they held babies, food and other equally harmless objects. Actually, the highest risk, that he could see in the crowd, was a young boy with a dirt smudged face who was toting a ball and bat with him. Harmless indeed. He heard Sorsha whisper to their greeter, asking where it would be best to gather here.

When he pointed down the street, Sorsha nodded, turning her attention and her voice to the crowd, "Would all those who are interested in joining my troops please gather in your city square." Eireach was pleased on many levels with her simple statement. Her use of 'my troops' showed these men right off who the boss was when it came to those matters and the fact that she'd made it a command without commanding them. She'd always been a master of words and phrasing, he had to envy her tact and control.

But despite that, there were still a few choice pockets of dissention. He could hear men muttering on about how they weren't about to follow the orders of a mere woman…and he filed away the faces for later identification. Eireach knew that Sorsha heard the men, but he was sure that she was quite used to people underestimating her, no matter her lineage. And when he looked at her, he was right…the dangerously amused gleam in her eyes told him that these men were in for a good walloping.

For her or against her, the crowd thinned slowly. Men headed for the square, or what served for one anyways, either eager or grumbling. Young boys…and even a few brave girls…trailed behind them, giggling madly and brandishing imaginary swords. He kept Sorsha at his side as they made their way to the square. Even knowing that she might not want him there, he was her only ally here. The comfort of that knowledge, however reluctant, would help her through this.

Not that she REALLY needed him, he admitted as she walked into the middle of the square with only a quick smile back to him. The woman was a wrecking ball and woe to the man who tried to tell her she wasn't good enough. She would eventually bend all these men to her whim and they would wonder why they hadn't trusted her from the start. That was one of the things he loved so much about her. He started and shook his head in pity of himself.

Now wasn't that an annoying revelation?

How could he possibly be in love with the brusque, short tempered warrior who had made it painfully clear she didn't like him? As he watched her putting on much the same show as she had the first day he'd met her…he had his answer.

The better question was, how had he never realized how very beautiful she WAS, in her own way. He knew that she wasn't beautiful by traditional standards. She was shorter than most women of the court, but that only made her more the devil in battle, adding to her speed and agility. She by no means had the polish that women of the court did, never wore makeup or wore her hair down in the cascading waves that he'd always thought were so tantalizing. But again…as he looked at her now, that didn't diminish the fact that he found her delicious.

Never had he known a woman like her. He'd always been used to the kind of person who needed him, who rested on that very need of him like their lifeline. The fact that this woman obviously didn't need him was…refreshing. He knew she would take care of herself and once he talked her into loving him as well, she wouldn't adorn him, but compliment and enhance him. It was an amazing thought.

"Your woman is quite impressive, My Lord." It was the jolly man who'd demeaned Sorsha in front of him. He felt his temper stoked and calmed himself, chalking it up to being a bit drowned in his realization of love for the tempestuous woman on the field.

"She's not my woman," he said amiably, though he was thinking about what he was going to put himself through getting her to realize that she wanted to be just that. It would be hell. Eireach decided that he was certifiably insane for looking forward to it. "You know my name sir, but what is yours?" So I can file it away, he added to himself.

"They call me Nialle and I'm sorry for assuming." He nodded to where Sorsha was flipping a man over her shoulder. Eireach grinned as he dismissed the apology. "Please sir, let me show you around." He agreed and spent the next few hours meeting with some of the most influential men in Tent City. He was relatively pleased with what and who he had seen and figured that he had the men in mind who would end up with those coveted lands.

One was a man named Pitte, tall dark and generous of nature. His family was bred in the bone farmers and had loathed to leave their lands, but refused to work that land as long as Damien sat on the throne. He'd made a comment on how much they all missed his father's rule and how it was a damned shame that he wasn't sitting on the throne right now…for surely he'd be a better king than that bastard Damien. Eireach remembered the family, their lands had been near the border of Dendum and they'd always been kind and giving people.

He bid the men goodbye when he saw Sorsha heading towards them. She was covered in dirt and had a few scrapes and bruises along her arms…and she looked perfect. Judging himself insane for finding a beat up Sorsha attractive, he decided to repent by being nice to her, if she wanted it or not. Eireach took the jacket from her hands, pleased that she didn't fight him or even throw a snide remark his way when he helped her into it. That should have been his first clue that something wasn't quite right, but he didn't pick anything up until he saw her eyes.

There was something dark there, something sad and tired, but that wasn't even the right word. Haunted, he thought…that was more like it. He'd seen her like this only once before and she'd ended up unconscious in his arms that time. As much as he would have liked that at the moment, he didn't want her to end up there because she'd passed out.

So for the third time that day, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"So concerned," she teased.

"You look sad." She sighed and for one terrifying moment, he thought she'd do just as he'd hoped she wouldn't and pass out right into his arms.

"Just a lot of bad memories surfacing today, it's frustrating that's all." She tucked a strand of hair that had managed to escape back into the bun at her neck as she looked around Tent City. It surprised him how much he wanted to pull her hair free, to see what it felt like in his fingers, to simply find out how long it was. "This place just reminds me of where I grew up." She sighed slowly again, "I haven't been looking forward to this, but I suppose that everyone will have to know sooner or later."

"You make it sound terrible."

"Let's go back, I'll tell you all at once so I don't have to think of that place more than that." He knew now how to handle the suddenly bruised and fragile emotion in her eyes. All he did was place an arm around her shoulder, rubbing at one arm companionably, but saying nothing. It warmed something in the core of him that she didn't slough off his arm from her shoulder.

"So did you find anyone promising?" He saw the relief in the relaxation of her muscles, that he wasn't going to press the matter right now.

"There were a few that managed to get a hand on me," she said with a cheeky grin.

"Well, they better not get used to it." Her brows and the corner of her mouth quirked in amusement as Eireach realized…a bit late…how vehemently he's said it. He wasn't sure if she stayed quiet to lessen or deepen his embarrassment, but was sure that either could have been true. He'd only just realized the depth of what he felt for her, but he wasn't exactly ready to let her know it just yet.

So in a silence that was awkward and amusing for each in turn, they teleported back to Cyric's castle. When he looked down at her again, her features had settled back into those grim, troubled lines. Where could her father have forced her to grow up that as so horrible? They walked together in silence, searching for their friends.

"Can I help you?" Kessy's affable tones shattered their silence and set his nerves on edge. He'd developed the inability to be around the girl more than a few minutes. Her annoyingly meek nature simply grated at his nerves in a way he knew they shouldn't, but couldn't help.

"Do you know where their Highnesses are?" Sorsha asked, relieving him of the obligation to address the mouse.

Kessy's eyes lit with admiration at the mention of Cyric and Jeaule, "Oh they're in their rooms with their Majesties of the Goblin Kingdom."

"Thank you." The maid bowed slightly, which he noticed made Sorsha flinch.

"Can I have anything sent up to the royal suite for you?" Eireach knew that she meant a change of clothes from the way she looked Sorsha up and down, but her voice never reflected it. Her voice was sugar coated, lilting…and set his teeth to grinding.

"No thank you, Kessy," he answered after a quick glance to Sorsha who shook her head, he wasn't about to answer for her. "I think we have everything we need." Sorsha nodded in agreement. Again the mousy blonde bowed, her bright blue eyes, nearly the color of the river they'd seen that day, still dancing with adoration for her masters.

They turned and headed down the hallway and once Kessy was out of sight, he saw Sorsha shake her body to rid herself of willies, "Thank the gods, I'm not the only one!" he exclaimed, genuinely relieved that he wasn't alone…so he wasn't a total bastard.

"There's just something about her that gives me the willies," Sorsha said, a pained grimace on her face. "She just too-"

"Nice…I know." He knocked on Cyric and Jeaule's door and waited for their friends to answer, dying inside to know where Sorsha had grown up.

Damien sat at his throne, content and peaceful for the first time since the battle they'd lost. Kindraa had slipped out of her funk as easily as she'd fallen into it and had set up a pleasant little party for him. He was sure that it was because she wanted something from him, but how could he refuse good food and entertainment? He couldn't, he justified as he ripped into a particularly juicy turkey thigh.

The juices ran down his fingers and chin, but, he mused with a piggy little grin, that's how you knew it was cooked properly. He watched the brightly clothed dancers, more intrigued by their clothes than their movements, as he bemoaned the tragedies of overcooked turkey to a very disinterested Kindraa. Even as he eyed a delectable looking pie that steamed happily at the far end of the table, he ripped at the thigh again and turned to Kindraa.

"So what do you want " He asked, turkey bits flopping out of his mouth. Pudgy fingers found the stray pieces and popped them back in.

"A great many thing," she answered, her long fingers pinching at her nose in disgust. "But so very few that you can actually give me." Damien rolled his eyes as he tossed the bony remnants of the thigh to his plate.

"I'm not in the mood for your riddles, Kindraa. What do you want?"

A smile played on her darkly painted lips, "A battle." Damien guffawed and waved his juice covered hand absently.

"Is that all?" He clapped for a servant and gestured greedily to the pie. "Send them out then, I have little care for lives."

"Unless it's yours."

"Naturally." The pie was placed in front of him and he breathed in the intoxicating scent of cherries…his favorite.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I played a little?" Her voice had a dangerous undercurrent. If voice could light afire, he thought, that's what he would call hers.

"With what?" he asked cautiously with red stained lips.

"With WHOM," she corrected him. "Namely the General Kael."

"What do you want with her?" Gods that cherry pie was good…extra sugar, just the way he liked it.

"Just a bit of her blood," Kindraa answered on a purr.

"What the hells for?" That was just sick. Who wanted nasty blood around? Didn't she know how easily blood stained beautiful fabrics?

"I plan to mess with the girl's mind a bit, weaken her with her own fears and insecurities." Then the fire was back, that fire he'd seen in her since they lost the battle to this very girl. "And eventually…I'll get that piece of me back too." His brows rose warily as her fingers clenched in on themselves.

"Very well then," he told her, shoving the last bit of pie in his mouth. Gods, that was good.

Jareth stood courteously as Eireach took a seat. Sorsha remained standing because she 'didn't want to ruin the sofa.' He sat back down and Sarah took her place in his lap again. With the weight of his wife resting pleasantly in his lap he looked over at Sorsha, who seemed to feel so out of place amongst them all the time.

"We came here to tell you how it went today," she said before continuing a bit reluctantly. "And also for me to get something off my chest, about where I grew up." Jareth read her eyes readily enough.

"It burdens you, this secret."

"Yes." It was a sigh and a release of pressure, he realized. The poor thing must have been dwelling on this for quite a while. Tucking his wife more securely into his arms, he settled in for the story he was sure would be interesting if nothing else. "It would probably be easier to just show you."

Jareth arched a brow slowly, "Show…?" He had a sinking feeling he knew what he was going to see, but there was no way…the place was a myth. Wasn't it? As he looked around, he knew that everyone, other than he wife who wouldn't know of it anyways, was waiting with baited breath.

There was a soft communal intake as Sorsha unbuttoned her top as they'd expected her to. When she lowered the back of it to reveal her shoulders, Jareth shifted Sarah from his lap and stood up.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked, suddenly worried by the deathly silence that mixed with shock in the air. Jareth heard her, but his eyes were locked on the circular knot design nestled between Sorsha's shoulder blades. Before this, the only time he'd seen the intertwining snakes had been in children's stories that warned children of the dangers of greed.

His fingers itched to trace the arch of the snake's backs, to see if it was merely a mark or worse yet, a brand. In a village populated by the worst scum of the Underground, he wouldn't put it past them to brand anyone…even a child. But his hands stayed at his sides, he wasn't about to touch another woman in that way, no matter the curiosity. Eireach didn't seem to have that inhibition though. His face was next to Jareth's in an instant, his eyes intent on the snakes that seemed to dance when her shoulders stiffened.

Eireach's hands reached out, his fingers brushing the skin lightly, "Underflow." His whisper sent shivers and a trail of goose bumps over Sorsha's skin.

"Underflow," she confirmed miserably.

Jareth shook his head, "Impossible."

"I assure you, as I've seen it with my own eyes and lived there most of my life, that it's completely possible."

Cyric let out a long, impressed whistle as Jareth simply stared, unable to completely believe what he was seeing and hearing, but there it was, staring him blankly in the face. He turned to Sarah as Sorsha buttoned her shirt back up. It was certain that his wife's questing mind would be bursting to know what was compelling them into this silence. In fact, he was amazed she hadn't spouted off yet.

"Underflow isn't supposed to exist," he told his wife.

She gave him a bland stare before grinning, "I'd gathered that much silly. I suppose that means you have been proven wrong." Sarah smiled up at him with that smirk that told him one of her witty remarks was well on the way. He awaited it with a challenging grin of his own. "Just promise not to throw her into an oubliette for it."

"I promise nothing."

"So what was it like?" Jeaule asked, obviously unable to wait any longer to hear it. "And please sit, don't worry about the chair."

"Thank you, that would be much better."

Jareth smirked when Eireach jumped from the chair and offered it to Sorsha, but was intrigued all the further when she didn't scold him for the gesture. She seemed to sink into the chair with her weariness and Eireach perched himself on the arm with his hand braced on the back of the chair. Jareth wondered if she was finally comfortable around him or if she was simply too tired to fight him, but Jareth had never seen her too tired to bite at Eireach.

Cyric had a hold of his wife's hand, but it was Jeaule who seemed more apprehensive on how to react to the news. His Sarah had sat down next to her friend, taking her friend hand. Jareth chose to sit on the arm of the couch and watched Sorsha gather her thoughts.

"First off, before you ask…if you know the story, which it's obvious you do…you know I can't tell you where Underflow is." Her hand tapped her shoulder, "That prevents me."

"Then just tell us, is it like the story?" Cyric asked, trying not to appear to eager. Of all of them, he seemed the least disturbed by the thought of Sorsha growing up in Underflow. Maybe a bit of that childhood danger had crept into his mind, that point between boy and man where every child thought it might be fun to run off and live in the city under the river.

Sorsha shrugged, "The crystal ceiling is, it was the only thing that was worth it there." Jareth watched her eyes glaze at what he was sure was the only good memory of her past. "It's clear crystal, ragged like the stone around it in the cavern, but during the day, when the sunlight streamed through the blue of the river coursing like azure blood above us…it was magic."

"So beyond being forced to live with your father, is it as bad as the stories say? Is it really populated with thieves?" Jareth knew that his approach to the delicate emotions wasn't far from complete insensitivity, but there was no changing the way that he was built.

"Yes, it is…and not the Robin Hood kind either." Jareth was sure of that. Underflow was the not-so-mythical town of the banished thieves. Not the petty pickpockets, but the men who would kill for even the smallest and most insignificant of scores. It was hardly the place for a young girl to grow up.

"Well, you made it through," Eireach said, placing his hand on Sorsha's shoulder. "And relatively sane." Jareth was glad for the smile that put on her face and vowed, as he was sure his wife and the others were, to spend more time with the girl.

(A/N: Another chapter down, hope you enjoyed yourselves. Another nod to one of my favorite movies in this chapter…a candy for whoever can tell me where and what movie!! LOL The readers who reviewed last week and made me FEEL like I'd gotten some lovely candy were:

BattleofEvermore, darklady26, Kaline Reine, Kerichi, notwritten, phantome101, roguegambit and The Banshee's Tears

Thanks guys and much love to all of you!!)