Orlo! [And if any of you don't get that reference, I disown you as a fan unless you go watch Megamind IMMEDIATELY.] My sincerest apologies for the delay. Most of it is due to to Christmassy and New Years' stuff with family and friends. The rest of it is because I finally gave in and got a Mac, and we're currently struggling to get along. I'll get there eventually... But man do I miss Microsoft Word :'(

Anyway, on with the story. All of you guessed correctly... yes, she is going to flip out. But I'm pretty sure I would too in her place...


"Sarah! There you are!" Jareth held out his arms. "I've been looking for you every–"

"So I'm engaged to you, am I?" Her shout was so loud that everyone in the immediate vicinity turned to look.

"What–"

"Were you planning on ever telling me that minute detail?" She was close enough now to shout in his face, and he flinched at her naked anger.

"Sarah – darling – please, calm down, can't we discuss this somewhere–"

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you afraid of scandalising your guests?" As ever, Sarah in fury reached new heights of creative sarcasm. "Are you afraid they'll notice something a little bit off about the hot new couple?"

"No, Sarah, don't – please –"

"HEY EVERYONE! GUESS WHAT? I'M ENGAGED TO THE GOBLIN KING! AND HE DIDN'T EVEN ASK ME! I guess I'm just the luckiest girl in the world, huh?"

"I didn't –" said Jareth helplessly.

"You know, I really believed you when you spewed all that romantic crap at me. Turns out Violetta was right. You do just want me for a possession."

"Sarah –"

"Cos otherwise you'd have bothered with a proposal at least, right? Or is that a stretch too far for you?"

"Please, just let me explain –"

"I don't give a SHIT about your explanations, Jareth. I am SO DONE here!" The whole room was in silence; even the music had stopped. "I've had a horrible night. I've been ignored, slighted, outright insulted, and to top it off I find out that you went behind my back to declare me as your object. I'm done here. I'm going home."

Her heart was pounding in her ears, her chest heaving with emotion; her hands were shaking violently. A ring of shocked onlookers surrounded her in every direction: she turned angry scowls on them all. One of them stepped forward, and she recognised him.

"Sarah, you need to calm down," Ythan said, holding his hand out as though she were an animal of some kind. "Let Jareth –"

"You knew," she spat at him. "All that stuff about being my friend, and you knew he was doing this to me." The rage drained out of her slowly, and she was suddenly aware of how heavy her dress was, how it was dragging her down, and how uncomfortable the mask was against the soft skin of her face: she tugged at the ribbons until they gave, and flung the star-studded thing down at Jareth's feet. Hurt was spreading through her, though she tried to fight it, erasing the comfortable numbness of anger and replacing it with pain. "I can't believe you would do this to me," she said to Jareth in a whisper that was nevertheless crystal clear in the silence. "I trusted you, and you lied to me. You promised me a real relationship, but all you offered me was tricks and lies, just like before. It's like you never even believed me when I told you I loved you."

Jareth mirrored her actions, though for him it took merely a touch for the mask to disappear and his face to be revealed. It was twisted in pain and regret. "I'm sorry," he said brokenly. "I was wrong, I –"

"I don't want to hear it."

They made a path for her through their ranks: no longer a Queen-to-be, she felt like a small child who has invaded a grown-up party, caused a fuss, and is retreating ignominiously to bed. She didn't really care where she was going: didn't care that she was leaving Beth behind. She only cared about getting out of this place full of lies and secrets. Through the terrace windows, out onto the balcony, and down the steps she walked, and no one made a move to stop her.


It was warm outside, so warm that there was barely a temperature difference between the stuffy ballroom air and the fragrant night; the stars shone palely down, competing with the flickering glow of lanterns lining the paths that led from garden to garden. The silence was broken only by crickets – or what sounded like crickets. You could never tell in the Labyrinth.

A few couples, who were canoodling on the benches and clearly hadn't bothered to pay attention to the commotion inside, glanced up with mild curiosity at Sarah's passing; she ignored them and half-ran, half-stumbled out of their sight, until the lanterns had run out and the friendly darkness had enfolded her. She sank down onto the soft grass, heedless of her pretty gown, and closed her eyes.

I've ruined Jareth's party.

At first it was all she could think; she had known that this was the biggest event of the year and to a certain extent Jareth's best chance for redemption in the eyes of the Fae, and yet she had completely spoilt the whole thing. She couldn't believe how childishly she had behaved only a few seconds before. A born Queen, she supposed bitterly, would have taken him aside and spoken to him quietly – or better yet, hidden her anguish behind a smile and danced through the night without letting him know. Instead, she had spilt her feelings like a child and run away from them all.

But it had hurt so much! She'd spent so long denying it even to herself, but as the tears leaked from under her closed eyelids she was forced to confront the truth once and for all. She loved Jareth like she'd never loved anybody before, loved him with a passion that would outlast centuries. She didn't want a passing fling with him, or a schoolgirl romance; she didn't want to be his lover or his mistress, she wanted to be his wife. She wanted to have a family with him and to help him rule the kingdom; she wanted to share the good and the bad, to support him through his difficulties and enjoy his happiness. She wanted the simple, mundane events of everyday life – the quiet contentment that came from a meal well made and a rest well earned, the pleasure of just curling up beside him with a book in front of the fire with no need for conversation. She wanted a marriage with him.

She realised that, despite all her talk of independence, she wanted to be swept off her feet: that she had been waiting for a magical, romantic proposal that would give her butterflies and make her cry with happiness, one that she could treasure for the rest of her life. And he had taken it away from her.

To some it might not have seemed like a betrayal of importance, and even to the Sarah of a year ago it would have seemed a small matter. But now it felt as though he had taken something extremely precious away from her: her consent. Of course she would have said yes if he'd asked her, there was no doubt about that, but it was the fact that he hadn't asked that galled; the fact that he'd presumed her love, that he had taken it upon himself to make the most important decision of her life without even bothering to verify it with her.

A touch on her knee made her start and look up, and to her astonishment she realised that she was surrounded by goblins, their eyes huge and unblinking in the darkness. Without thinking, she summoned a crystal and filled it with light so that she could see them better, setting it afloat in the air.

"Lady Sarah," said Squidgey solemnly, "please don't cry." He set off a chorus of similar pleas: "You so pretty!" "Don't cry!" "We fix it."

She hiccupped and gave them a wobbly smile. "Hey, you guys."

"We's here to look after you!" "No cry!"

"I think this is something even you can't fix, Dodi," she whispered.

"Don't say that," was the affronted reply. "Us goblins, fix everything." They crowded around her, giving her ineffectual pats with their tiny hands; Sprog crept up her arm and onto her shoulder, where he began to pull pins out of her hair so that the twists fell freely down her back, relieving the pressure headache that had been building all night. "Shiny," she heard him whisper with satisfaction, and she had the feeling she'd never see those pins again.

"What happened?" piped up one of the quieter goblins.

She marshalled her thoughts; it was no use talking to the goblins unless you used simple words – they were rather like small children in that respect. "I got cross with Jareth," she said eventually, wiping away a mascara-coloured teardrop. "So I ran away. And now I don't know what to say to him."

"Say sorry?" ventured someone from the back.

"Yeah, I guess I could. But he has stuff to say sorry for too," she sighed.

"King stupid sometimes," said Jumble wisely. Sarah gave a weak little giggle.

"You know, you're very very right," she agreed.

Suddenly they all stiffened, like rabbits when a shadow glides overhead; Sarah glanced round, confused. "Someone's coming," hissed two or three of them together, and before she knew it she was alone again.

Before she could snuff the crystal out, a hand was laid gently on her shoulder, and she looked up swiftly to see the same Fae from before, the one who had told her what the necklace meant. He was still wearing the ridiculous mask that made it look like he didn't have a face. She scowled.

"What do you want?"

He crouched down to be on her level. "Lady Sarah? Are you all right?"

"Why should you care?" she said rudely, getting up and crossing her arms so as to feel at less of a disadvantage.

"Why – why should anyone care when they see a beautiful woman in distress? Is there anything I can help with?"

"No, thanks. Not unless you can go back in time and get Jareth to take back this stupid necklace."

"I'm surprised you are still wearing it, to be perfectly truthful."

"Oh." She glanced down at her chest, where the emerald sparkled in the starlight, and felt an unexpected pang of loss. "Huh. I guess you're right." She picked it up, but made no further move to remove it. It was so pretty and so delicate. And Jareth had given it to her on Valentine's Day…

"Then you accept the engagement?"

"No," she said sharply. "It's just…"

"No one should ever be forced into anything against their will," he continued gently. "I hate to say it, but the Goblin King has mistreated you shamefully tonight. You deserve to be wooed, not entrapped into a marriage."

"Yeah," she mumbled, tracing the gothic design. No wonder it had always seemed familiar… it was a more delicate version of the pendant Jareth wore round his neck!

"And to present you to the entire Court as his betrothed without your knowledge… I pity you deeply. The assumptions that will have been made, the gossip that will have been passed around…"

She glanced up at him quickly. "You don't think – he's not marrying me just for my – ch-childbearing abilities?" She stuttered on the awkward word, and flushed.

"That is hard to say," was the serious reply. "What is honourable and traditional among the Fae does not always equate to fairness or true love. You should not be too quick to believe anything the Goblin King says."

Sarah dropped her eyes, thinking furiously. Of course she loved Jareth. Of course she trusted him. Didn't she?

"Then this necklace…"

"May be nothing more than a bauble of enticement – yes, it is a possibility."

She bit her lip, and then jerked on the chain. The fine links, tiny as they were, refused to give, but with another tug the clasp snapped, and the necklace was in her hand: broken, hanging limp, pathetic somehow. She choked back a sob, and dropped it in the grass.

"I am sorry," her companion murmured. She didn't reply, assailed by doubts. What have I done? Freed myself? Or lost something precious?

The ballroom clock began to strike, its mellow tones chiming clearly through the air. One, two, three… thirteen times. Midnight.

"Time to remove the masks," Sarah said bitterly to herself. And time to dance with Jareth. In fact, the exact time I was hoping he'd propose to me.

"Ah. Yes."

"Oh!" For just a second she was distracted at the prospect of finally discovering what her mysterious escort looked like. "Go on, then, take yours off!"

The Fae hesitated visibly. Then he waved a hand, and the darkness on his face swirled and resolved itself into features… features that were all too well-known to her. Sarah gaped.

"Jaed?"


And this is where that Plot with a capital P comes in...

Yes, yes, you all knew. Shush, in my head it was a surprise.

Unfortunately my terrible lack of free time means I never got round to writing a Christmas fic, sorry about that :( but if I get a chance I will. Even more unfortunately I have a 2000 word essay due in Italian at the end of this month, so it's fairly unlikely for some time yet.

My sincere love and thanks to all who reviewed and gushed and told me I should publish something (I'm working on it!). Goblin-loads* of glitter to you all!

So, what happens next? Why don't you let me know what you think...

*A goblin-load is a widely-used term of measurement in the Labyrinth and surrounding lands. It is useful in that it can refer to any weight, as long as it is within the range of what a goblin can carry. It is also useless for exactly the same reason; goblins are supernaturally strong and can carry a surprisingly large range of weights. However, it continues to be the standard measure for the same reason that Jareth hasn't yet outlawed Karaoke Night at the Mouldy Sock: because he's just given up on trying to introduce any measure of sanity, and because on Karaoke Nights the Mouldy Sock sells goblin-loads of delicious cheese for the very, very reasonable price of three pieces of gold and a short length of string.