A Twisting Heart And Mind

by FangamerBowiextreme

While unbeknown to her, Sarah has succeeded in obtaining the one thing the Goblin King has desired for hundreds of years -power over the Labyrinth. After being hidden for years from his diabolical wrath, Sarah finds herself alone and vulnerable as Jareth's dark desires are finally alowed to rear their ugly heads. As always, the only question is, are things really as they seem?

28. Wanting

A/N- Hello everyone...Firstly let me say, to those who've asked, no I'm not dead. No, I haven't been chased away by trolls. And no, although it may seem like it, I have not simply abandoned this story. I know it's been a long time, actual years, since I last updated, which shocks me. It's crazy how quickly time has passed. I used to have a few very dedicated and very compassionate readers, who I now see have been reaching out, repeatedly, over the years to see what's up and if I've been okay. So, for you, I think I'll do a bit of explaining.

I don't want to get too much into detail out here on the internet, but I will say around 3 years ago a series of very serious and life-changing events started to happen involving the health of my children and myself. I left my job, which, as irony would have it, was about the same time I found out I was pregnant. I had a very difficult pregnancy that left me unable to do much of anything, let alone take any joy in writing -although I tried. I'd managed to work out about half of this chapter by then. Things culminated and resulted in my son being born severely prematurely. He was hospitalized for a very, very long time and suffered many medical complications which, by the time he was finally able to come home, required very close monitoring and physical therapy, etc. Everything I had was suddenly gone and it seemed my entire existence had become making sure he survived so that he could in fact thrive. It was the most stressful and terrifying and challenging period of my life, and it lasted well over a year.

It was around that time, when he was finally healthy and I was feeling more positive, that I got back into writing. Please know that while I have not posted or responded, I have thought about my writing and this story and the fandom CONSTANTLY. It's been such a core part of my life that the idea of simply giving up on it and letting all of you down broke my heart every time I thought about it. But of course, just when it seems things are on the up and up, life has a way of reminding you you're in the shit. I ended up getting pregnant again, which came with a whole new series of complications and possibilities that made me severely high risk. I decided to keep it and went forward. The level of monitoring and treatments I had to undergo to prevent another early birth left me totally physically miserable and of course terrified that should I sneeze the wrong way I might lose the baby. I managed to carry her full term, though my labor was again life-threatening and full of very rare complications. While she was born healthy, thank God, I had a very long and frustrating recovery.

If this is too much information for you, or if you're new and have no idea why I'm giving you my life story, I'm sorry, you can skip ahead. I am about to as well.

She is nearing her first birthday, both my children are healthy and doing excellent, and for the last several months I've been working very hard to get back into the writing groove, pacing myself and testing myself to make sure I can manage a regular update before throwing this at you from out of nowhere. I didn't want to taunt you with a one-and-done. This is I think the first time I've logged on since the last update and I was very touched by all the messages in my inbox from worried readers simply asking if I'm okay. I am, and I will be responding to each of you as soon as I can. While I can't guarantee it, I am going to try my very best to give you a regular update each month and see this story to the end (So I can move on to the ten others I have piling up on the back burner). I never intended to abandon it. It means too much to me as I know it does some of you. And to the trolls who've said things along the lines of "I can't imagine what could be going on in your personal life that would keep you too busy to write one chapter each month", well now you know, and if you still don't get it then you've obviously never had to content with the possibility of losing the life of your child.

I know I'm going to have to earn back your interest, your loyalty and trust, but it's been your constant support that's really helped me get through this slump. I also know that it may be difficult to read after so long, a lot of you probably forgot about this completely and have no idea what's going on or who anyone is and that's okay. I understand. With that said, please don't be too angry. Thank you for your concern and your dedication, for simply bothering. And, as always, thank you for reading. Now, finally, without further ado...

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Chapter 23, Wanting

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There was dust in the air. It hovered, stagnant. She could tell by the way the light refracted around it. It seemed to glitter as they passed by, the shine undulating from window to window. Oddly enough she found it charming, as if it enriched rather than dulled the scenery. She believed this a peculiar thought to have given current circumstances, especially when all the other women were busy curling their lips and turning their noses up to it in disgust.

They were chatting away, passive-aggressively complaining and criticizing as women often did, and yet from initial observation one would say they were so excited, so thrilled to be there. They laughed and giggled and gossiped, on and on. She however kept quiet, kept her thoughts to herself and followed them slowly at the back. After all, who was she to judge?

"How much longer until we arrive?"

"Only a 'nother moment Milady. We'll be there soon."

They were being led by a goblin, and while the ladies feigned poise and civility, she knew they were nothing less than sickened by it. They kept their eyes averted, held their hands over their mouths in haphazard gestures of tact, due to the dust in the air they might say. This did little however to mask the casual side-eyed glance of condescension or the slight raise of brow that leered about every so often. Such glances would even fall to her, she noticed. Perhaps it was because she was lagging behind... and here she thought such efforts would render her more discreet.

She found it odd to have a goblin as an escort, not inappropriate or offensive as the others might have judged, simply odd. To be honest she'd never met a goblin before. Given her present company, that might seem surprising; she was of course no country-bumpkin. However, they simply weren't common where she was from and, though she would not readily admit it, she did not venture far from home very often. She did not despise them, though, or find them disgusting; in fact, she did not mind them at all. How curious this fellow was, remaining so chipper and steadfast while the women at his back made him a fool for every step. Surely he understood the words they said? Surely he too had feelings? But alas, she would agree with them in one regard. Where were the fae? Where was anyone for that matter? Their envoys had stayed behind. The guards that lined the halls were creatures unfamiliar to her with sentience highly suspect. Certainly this was not normal? Certainly not from the mumblings of her companions. But once again, who was she to judge? One who was so unaccustomed to such things.

With her eyes lowering to the floor, she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and patted her forehead with it. The climate was a great deal warmer than what she was used to. It would be difficult maintaining her composure in this dress...

She glanced up at the sound of laughter. It was louder than their previous giggling but it only made her confused. What exactly was funny about their conversation? She heard whispers of the phrase heavy-handed heavily annunciated and the different ways one might define the word filthy. Was it not rude to gossip about one's host whilst amidst their very halls? And so brazenly at that? She felt shameful just listening to them. Their innuendos were tasteless in their discretion, mocking His Majesty when she questioned whether any of them had ever even met him. Surely...she was not the only one?

Turning away, their laughter faded as she gazed upon their surroundings. It was sparse, not what she'd expected in the slightest. Still it was pleasant, humble even. Contrarily she thought adornment would only lessen the value. These halls had known so much history, seen so many things. It was safe to claim that they were among some of the oldest structures still in existence. Orpus himself once trekked this very path. How could anyone take such a thing at face value? Want to cover it up with things gilded and hollow? And yet here they were, judging, evaluating, finding absolutely everything wanting. Such impertinence, she thought. Such disappointment.

She felt sympathy for His Majesty, feeling there was perhaps something more than neglect that had weathered the halls. To her it felt lonely, like whomever stood and stared perhaps spared a thought, but in the end found no reason to change a single thing. Why waste the effort when there was no one else to admire it? Was that a superficial presumption to make? She hoped she was wrong. Perhaps the king was no superficial fellow; perhaps he valued substance not so easily seen, as the kind she glimpsed between the cracks in the molding and the flake in the wallpaper. She hoped for that instead. She hoped for that deeply.

She must have been feeling wistful as she lowered her hand, for her kerchief drifted lightly from her grasp. She stopped and reached down for it, and became surprised by the wide pair of eyes that met her.

Oh! Another goblin? Good heavens it had given her a freight!

At first she pulled her hand away. It was just staring at her. Oh but-what was she doing? Where were her manners?! The poor thing looked more frightened of her than she was of it! She smiled and blinked furiously, parting her lips to greet it. How silly of her to feel alarm towards such a simple creature. Actually, as she looked at it she thought it was even somewhat cute. However, just as she was about to speak did the thing reach down and take hold of her favor.

Would it offer it back to her? she wondered.

"Pardon me, I seem to have dropped this. Might I have it back?" she asked.

Could it sense she was nervous of it? Was she rightly so? Whatever the cause, before her hand could reach did the tiny trickster abscond with her favor and dart down an adjacent hall. Instinctively, she took a step to pursue it.

"W-where are you going? I'll have you know that does not belong to you!" She spoke somewhat hushed as she scampered after it, thrown off by the critter's bad manners. After a few steps however she stopped and glanced back at her caravan. It wouldn't be wise to separate herself from them. They were now a few paces ahead, apparently completely unaware of her predicament. One of them however was spying on her most discreetly, a wry smile curling her lips.

"Did you see that? The little thing is playing tricks on her," she whispered, and soon the other women glanced back. The woman's smile widened, while her own expression fell to a gape. This was the first time any of them had acknowledged her. "Well? Go on, fetch it. Don't worry, we'll wait for you here," she called out, waving her off with a giggle and turning away. The rest of the entourage acted in kind, snickering as she stood there dumbly at the end of the hall. For a moment she had the suspicion they were mocking her and indeed they probably were. But...they had said they would wait for her. Was it really okay?

"A-alright. Thank you!" she called back, smiling widely before turning briskly down the hall. "Creature! Come back here! I beg of you!" She could hear the women burst into laughter behind her and she frowned in response. This probably wasn't the best impression to make ...Luckily their approval was not something she cared for.

She followed after the goblin as gracefully as she could. Oh, how inconvenient. If it was any old cloth she would have parted with it easily, however she was meant to offer that favor to His Majesty. She'd embroidered it herself. It simply wouldn't do to have it stolen.

She rounded a corner and came to a halt. The creature had bounded around an adjacent corner, accidentally dropping her kerchief to let it glide away behind him. Thank goodness, she thought. She'd only had to chase it to the end of the hall. She reached down and retrieved it quickly lest he try to snatch it again. Honestly, what was the point of this? Naughty little thing it was. At this rate she was going to make them all late. Smoothing out her skirt, she wiped away whatever miniscule traces of dust that might have dirtied it and tucked the scarf back in her sleeve. What an odd thing to do...Well, no harm, no foul I suppose, she thought and quickly left to rejoin the group.

...Wait. Was this the right place? Of course it was, she'd just come from this way! So where...where did everyone go? She looked around, trying to orient herself and realized that not only was she alone, but she could no longer hear the babbling of her companions. But how? She followed the creature for but a moment. She could have sworn it'd only been a couple paces. It was only a few seconds, surely. There was no way she had gotten lost. She'd only taken one corner!

But still there was nothing. There were no goblins, no fellow ladies, no beings of any kind. She didn't understand. This had to be the right place. The hall, the windows, it looked the same. She started to panic, recounting her steps in a rush.

Then she paused. The fervid expression fell from her face and she realized...

They had abandoned her, hadn't they? By gods they had! What cruel, treacherous ladies! How would she ever find her way on her own?! It was bad enough to dawdle, but to become separated and then lost? She was sure to sabotage her chances before ever meeting him! She could feel anxious butterflies steadily unnerving her as she fought off her anger. Such blatant deception. Really she had only herself to blame. She shouldn't have been so naive. Of course they wouldn't have waited for her, it might lessen their own chances with His Majesty. And that poor goblin, there was no way it would have stood up to them for her sake. Oh dear, how would she ever make it in time? It was hopeless all on her own…

But no...no their guide said they were close. All she had to do was find the stairs right? Get to the upper levels? She'd heard him mention that. Surely there would be someone to help her, a guard or a goblin or a fae? Perhaps one less mischievous than the last. Yes. Yes that must be the case. There was no need to fret. None at all.

With a new sense of determination, she took a deep breath and swiftly followed after them...

And that was...how many minutes ago? Ten? Twenty? Gods, she had no idea and yet she was still going, wandering the halls blindly. She just couldn't help it. Everything looked so unremarkably similar. Every corridor, every view from every window. Every plaque or painting or torch on the wall. What once she examined so closely she now couldn't recall a single significant detail from. She'd never been to the Goblin Kingdom before. She'd never been completely on her own. She'd never been so frazzled and yet she could spare time enough to ponder the damned dust in the hall!? She was such a fool. She didn't deserve his invitation...

No. No...She needed to calm down. To collect herself.

She took a deep breath and tried to think. She'd been lost for about ten minutes now, was that the number to stick with? She was about to be late, perhaps she already was. On time was to be early and to be on time was unfashionable. To be late was simply insulting. Why, why did she have to chase after the damned favor!

"That's it. Just breathe. Everything will be fine. There is still time." She spoke to herself in a steady voice, closing her eyes and trying to focus. She hadn't come across a single person in her pursuit. Was there a reason they were so wicked? Perhaps if she had joined in their prattle they would have treated her differently…

I must be getting close, surely! she told herself. Her father was going to be so disappointed with her; for some reason she feared that more than making herself a fool for the king. Left. Left. Right. Up the stairs. Down the hall. Up more stairs. Past the library. Was it a library? I took a right. Left. Then right again ...or was it left? Or was it left then right? Oh dear... She was trying to keep track of her wandering but it was proving to be a failing effort. This castle was simply massive. Growing up she'd always considered her father's estate to be impressive, but this castle was considerably beyond it. She wasn't sure what she'd expected but it shouldn't have been anything less. She was running around what was once the capital of all Orpia after all.

Oh dear. Oh dear. Father is going to be so angry with me… She shuffled as quickly as her gown would let her. The halls had seemed to change after she'd gone up the stairs. They were in better repair, had more formal decor. Did that mean she was on the right path? It had to. She prayed it did.

Taking the handkerchief she'd sacrificed so much for, she patted the sweat away from her forehead. This heat wasn't helping her equilibrium and neither was the dress. She wasn't used to such elegance. In fact, she thought it was a bit over the top -until meeting the other ladies that was. Then she thought maybe she hadn't tried hard enough.

His Majesty will understand, won't he? She was getting desperate now, close to admitting defeat. Why was there no one in this castle? Where were all the guards, the servants? She wasn't paying much attention to the women's jesting but perhaps they did have a point.

Finally she stopped. She closed her eyes and scowled. She'd completely ruined herself, hadn't she? Perhaps Father would see through her, accuse her of doing it on purpose. She was already apologizing, swearing it wasn't intentional, she was just truly unworthy-

"Well, what do we have here?"

Her head darted up as her scowl widened to an honest gape. She'd been caught on the cusp of a breakdown, no matter her tact there was no hope of hiding such an expression. There was a man standing before her, actually a pair of them. They were entering the hall just ahead of her. At first their backs were to her but their heads had turned and now both paused as they peered straight at her. She grew terribly embarrassed. She was still just gaping. What was her expression? Quickly she composed herself and fluttered her eyes away. One of them turned a little more and smiled at her broadly.

"There seems to be a Lady in our midst," the one continued. He was standing to the right, a hand on his hip as he closed the door behind him. His smile on her was cheerful, his boyish features strained with amusement. She paused and caught her breath. She'd never been alone with a man before, let alone two strangers.

"Um, pardon me sirs...am I intruding?" she asked, almost stuttering as she spoke.

"Intruding? Heavens never..."

"Ah...then perhaps you might be of some help-"

"Help? To a damsel such as yourself? Of course. Tell me, my lady, what assistance might we be?"

It was the man on the right who'd spoken, and quite dramatically at that. In truth it made her a little suspicious. He seemed sarcastic, exasperated even. Her eyes darted to the man on the left. He was now slouched back against the wall, was staring over at her but otherwise didn't seem to have any intention of speaking. She wasn't sure what to say next. He looked annoyed. Perhaps she was intruding.

"I...I'm looking for the tea parlor. For audience with His Majesty? Might either of you know where that is?" She used her words carefully, uncertain of who these fellows might be. Neither of them had bowed to her. Neither of them were dressed formally. In fact, neither had any indication of being high stationed. They wore...trousers and plain white shirts. Were they servants? Yes, it was hot out but was such a thing really appropriate even for them? And where was their greeting? What a strange country this was.

"The tea parlor? I believe it's right through this door, is it not?" The man on the right turned to glance at the man on the left, who only rose an impatient brow in return, and it became clear that she was indeed missing part of the conversation. Was he mocking her? His cheer seemed vaguely artificial. Perhaps she should be offended.

"Really? Thank heavens! Are you a part of the festivity?"

"Festivity?" he repeated, raising her a brow and again his eyes drifted to his companion. "Hear that? It's a festivity now."

"Pardon?"

She grew confused at his words. He was teasing her surely but she had not the bearing to retort. Both gentlemen turned and threw her an eye, and she fought not to meet either of theirs. But no, of course she should meet them. She was without an escort. Oh, she always did fluster easily. To forget her manners at such a time…

"Yes...you might say that. Are you?"

She blinked dumbly, as if forgetting the question she'd originally asked them.

"Ah...Y-yes. Well, I have received an invitation from His Majesty I mean," she clarified. The man on the right turned his head and threw his friend a grin, and from that specific angle she thought perhaps they looked a bit similar. Their hair was of the same fairness, as well as their complexion. If not for the opposition of the one's scowl to the other's smile she might compare them more.

"An invitation, really? How very fortuitous for you."

"Indeed..." she responded warily, sensing some form of judgment in his voice. Resentment maybe? For what reason?

"You must be excited -to meet His Majesty I mean. To fawn and be fawned over."

Now her eyes narrowed. There was definite sarcasm that time. They seemed disgruntled, perhaps even with her, but whatever for?

"What woman would not be excited to share company with an Orpian king?" she answered quite formally. Whatever this sense of sardonic condescendence he had no qualm in conveying truly was, it registered to her in eerie accordance with that of her frivolous companions. None of them seemed to appreciate the seriousness of their circumstances, disrespecting their host in that most elegant and roundabout way. She had half a mind to lecture him on the matter. Yet...was she not the same? Her business here was superficial...perhaps even more so than the rest of them. Any woman would jump at the chance to court a king and yet she… She was no more than a hypocrite.

"Is it not a trivial thing?"

She was so focused on her contemplation that she was actually startled, for this time it was the man on the left who'd spoken. It seemed a baited question, something more shrewd than what let on. For some reason she was caught off guard by it, or rather by the sound of his voice and thus allowed herself to meet his gaze. For a moment she was admittedly intimidated by its severity. Striking blue she noted and, having refused to truly look at either one of them until that moment, was also impacted by the comeliness of his face. Oh my, what a lewd thought to have at a time like this.

"Yes. No. I mean, in a sense, to some I suppose."

"To some? How about you?" Her head darted towards the man on the right, the younger one who stared at her so playfully. His eyes were different from the other. Brown, but still so very bright. She did not favor them as much. Not hardly, in fact.

"No, never. I am honoured to have received such an invitation. Any who would take it for granted do not deserve his audience," she stated quickly. The man's smile widened.

"And yet you would squander such an opportunity on an excuse as callow as sense of direction? Or better… lack of, I suppose. Come now, was it not merely an act meant to abstain you from such…"

"Farce."

"Farce? Why would I…" Her eyes narrowed from one man to the other and it appeared that they were the ones trying to abstain, trying to escape in fact from the event ahead. The one looked tired and both so very bored. It would seem she was indeed missing something. Were they perhaps envious it was His Majesty who was receiving so much female attention? No, it was rude to infer anything of them. And yet, how dare they accuse anything of her. She was asking them for help! "You presume too much, sir. I am lost and alone because I am a fool and nothing more. I was separated from my escort and found myself wandering. Is this the entrance to His Majesty's gathering?" She asked, a little hastily. All this chat was only making her more late.

"Entrance? No this is not the entrance," said the man on the left. "You might say this is the back door, a servant's tunnel, if you will."

"Oh. Oh I see…" she mumbled. So they were servants? For some reason that did not soothe her. They were not behaving as servants. Though, they were not behaving as lords either. There was something about their demeanor that was...so very peculiar.

"Why yes, this is part of the inner dormitory. The main entrance is all the way on the other side." The man on the right twirled his finger as he spoke, a gesture that she found greatly disheartening.

"Ah...well then…"

"May I ask how you ended up all the way over here? If my intel is correct, you should have been amongst one of the last convoys to arrive."

"I...Forgive me, it is quite shameful really. It was a goblin you see-"

"A goblin?"

"Yes. It had stolen my favor and I was foolish enough to chase after it. I found myself lost after that. I believe the tunnels played tricks on me. I feel as though I've been wandering in circles."

"Clearly."

"Are you mocking me, sir?" she asked. Again it was the man on the right who'd teased her. Audacious fellow wasn't he? He turned and smiled down, tilting his head as his eyes roamed over her.

"Of course not. Have I said something offensive?" Her eyes flickered away from his challenging gaze.

"No...not at all."

"Aren't you more than a tad late?"

Her head peered up at the sound of the second gentleman. She looked straight at him and their eyes locked. Again she felt something oddly intense about his gaze, or perhaps it was simply the vivid blue of his eyes.

She found herself rendered a bit dumb as she struggled for a response.

"Yes. It would seem I am. Terribly. "

"It's bad form to arrive so late to such an exclusive event, wouldn't you say? Some might even consider it insulting and yet you contradict yourself, continuing to dally by spouting such empty concepts as honor, appreciation, and the like." He spoke lightly, playfully even, but somehow she knew better. He was being serious, perhaps even testing her. She wondered then why he cared, why her intentions mattered to him at all.

"Insult His Majesty? Never! I acknowledge my mistake, but it was without intention and I do have every intention of explaining this to him properly. I swear. I understand that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I just...I was just..." and then her voice faded off. She was staring straight into his eyes and it was like they already knew, like they'd recognized one another. Perhaps he didn't realize it, but she thought of him for a moment, inspected the depth of his gaze and was suddenly fearful he would be offended should she act in any way less than authentic. What an odd reaction to have. Was she really so transparent? She truly meant what she said, truly. His stare on her only seemed to grow in intensity however and, due to it or her own conscience, she crumbled under its weight. Her eyes rolled to the floor in defeat.

"Oh come now, no need to get all flustered." Contrary to his statement, her eyes anxiously darted back to his. He was smiling now, wryly. "Just admit it, you don't have any desire to be here, do you?" For a moment she was silent. She just stared into his eyes as if abashed. Who ever would ask such a thing? Surely that question was a trick? A test? But how was she supposed to respond?

"The last thing I want is to be a burden upon His Majesty…" she began to say, and her head lowered back to towards the floor. "...to be a waste of his time...perhaps I should admit it and say that you are right." She paused but had not the confidence to peer up at their reactions. "To be honest, it was not my desire to come here today. However, it truly was an innocent act. I would never mean to dishonor His Majesty...I simply got lost. Though perhaps it is my subconscious at work, perhaps it believes it is too late to rectify, that I have already given up and thus why I continue to gab with you here. Perhaps it is best I dawdle and continue still. Is that not why you have found me? To make it all the more explainable? To relieve guilt from my own incompetence? Shall I stay here until all is said and done?" She smiled as she spoke, let go her anxiety and folded her arms. It wasn't proper, no, but she didn't care. It seemed decorum was to be ignored by the lot of them.

She didn't see, but there was a shift in the man's gaze. His hard brow softened just slightly.

"You did not wish to come here?"

"Do you not wish to meet His Majesty?"

She looked up to the man on the left but it was the man on the right who'd interrupted him. She glanced over hesitantly to find him smiling at her most amusedly. Greatly in fact. It caught her off guard. Her eyes kept darting to the man on the left. His gaze on her was so intense, like he was staring right through her.

"Meet him? I would enjoy meeting him surely, but meeting him is of utter irrelevance is it not?" she countered, ignoring the first question completely and clearly catching them both off guard. "I was brought here to seduce a king, to put on airs and compete against my fellow ladies for something as superficial as the seat next to his, a thing that they would dare call love. I find such actions lewd, disgraceful-"

"Disgraceful? Is it not a high honor to be chosen for such?"

"Does integrity suddenly mean so little?" Her eyes flickered away from the man on the right when her question was met with stark silence. They lowered to the floor and she chastised herself for becoming so passionate. After a moment however they rose, straight to the gaze of the man on the left. "I may have been forced onto the board, but I refuse to play such a game. I refuse to deceive myself, much less another for something so slight, so commonplace as a crown. It was you who called it a farce, no?" She waited for them to respond, but again the two remained silent. She stared at them a little longer and then gradually looked to the floor again. "As I talk to you now, I find myself seriously wondering if I should stay here, squander all of my time and avoid it completely...No one would ever know. I am unrecognizable amongst them. Tell me, is it more shameful to be rejected by a complete stranger or to simply miss the chance all together?"

"If you have such little confidence, perhaps you shouldn't have come in the first place."

Her head darted up to watch as the man on the left leaned up from the wall and approached her. For some reason she found that alarming, like his sudden interest in her was something to be avoided. He was taller than she'd realized. One side of his hair was cut short to the scalp while the other fell long over his shoulder. It swayed a little as he walked. Goodness...What a striking man this was.

"With such meager intentions you are simply wasting your time no?"

"I would much rather waste my time than his and...it is not so much a lack of confidence as an awareness of my surroundings," she said, keeping her eyes strictly from him as he stood before her. His presence was different from the other man. It was imposing, calculated. Who...who were they?

"Really?" he asked. She blinked herself from her daze.

"Yes. The courts I partake in are small. Only once have I met my own nation's king let alone another's. But, as I am told, an invitation from the King of Goblins himself is something that simply cannot be refused. I come here seeking to court this man when I myself do not even know what he looks like. Walking behind those women and listening as they recount, as they draw on and on of his preferences, of his skills, of his temperament, telling stories of past dalliances and the like. They seem to know the game far better than I and are thus far more suited towards it. I have no intention of playing with them, nor His Majesty. I fear I have far too much respect for the both of us." Her gaze was cast to the side as she spoke, most likely because she knew he was staring at her. He seemed intrigued by her now, in a way that was not so friendly. His playful companion now stood quiet and that she found equally worrisome.

"Then why are you here?" he asked.

"I am here to meet His Majesty of course, to have tea, to eat cake, and converse, and most likely be of utterly no consequence to anyone. Any ambition other than that has never been mine. If His Majesty finds my company wasteful, then it can be no other way regardless of the particular facade I don, for fate will have already deemed it thus. I am here, quite simply, because I was asked to come, because someone took the time to scribe my name on an invitation that could have otherwise been sent to anyone." She peered up to find him grinning, to find the expression quite favorable upon him. Her reaction, however, was not as it should have been. Instead of reciprocating, her brow knitted and she became defensive. Realizing he must have offended her, he did his best to force the smirk away.

"Heh, the words you speak are hypocritical. You do not wish to waste his time yet the only reason you are here is as a courtesy? You look down on such an event yet plan to indulge in all its fancies? Forgive me...can you blame me if I also find that questionable?" he asked, genuinely amused. He hadn't expected that, hadn't expected her to be so earnest in saying it. He might even say he was affected. He simply couldn't help making things difficult for her. What an interesting woman this was.

"When you put it like that I suppose I am a hypocrite...I-I know what I say may sound contrary...but that is how I truly feel. Although we have never met, I greatly respect His Majesty. I am thankful he invited me personally. I did not want to dishonor him by refusing his invitation...however neither do I want to deceive him by pretending to fawn and love him as all the others do. We have never even met. It is...certainly a dilemma. Of course you find it questionable and that is something that saddens me. However, I do not require you to believe me." Perhaps she was too forward with that last line but it was too late. She was growing tired of this jesting, talking her in circles as if they were mocking her for her sincerity. The man quirked a brow to her most challengingly, little did she know he was actually quite taken aback.

"Tell me then, what do you plan to do when you finally meet? Assuming of course you do not wither away here with the likes of us?" he asked. When she peered up, he was surprised by how serious her expression had become.

"I plan to thank him for his time, to apologize for being late, and to bid him a kind farewell when he inevitably leaves."

"Presumptuous are you not? Deciding his actions for him. What would happen, by chance, if he does not leave?"

Her brow drew in response to his question. He was toying with her again, but in all honesty that was something she'd never even considered. She noticed a quick flinch from the man on the right, as if he was surprised by what his companion had said, and she peered over to find him staring in what appeared to be disbelief. She became worried then, but why she had no idea.

"I…" she started and stared at him, only him, her gaze deep and vexed. He was grinning, his mouth curling on one side ever-so-coyly, yet she saw truth in his eyes, his seriousness, bitterness, and the laden anticipation of disappointment. She tore her eyes away from such a look, away from someone who saw through her so plainly. "I highly doubt that would happen. There are...far more suitable prospects than I," she said, her eyes lowering to the floor as a sad little smile curled her lips. She shrugged and, resigning herself to fate, peered up again with a hollow smile. "Perhaps I should get going then...You've gotten me thinking and the least I could do is appreciate the effort gone into planning this event. It...it is rude to hide like this."

The man's eyes narrowed as he watched her give in to her insecurity and he frowned in response to such a weak display. She truly was a hypocrite...

"I see…" he mumbled, the smile falling from his face in kind. His companion saw this, saw how fascinating it was, and couldn't help but intervene.

"Well then, by your command we must get going," he said, snapping his fingers to earn her attention. She looked up and drew her brow but did nothing else when he took her arm in his and spun them around.

"E-excuse me? Going where?" she asked, simply watching as he reached out and opened the door. It led to a narrow corridor, the end of which shone bright with the bleak silhouettes of merry go-getters.

"To the festivity of course! Surely your efforts are not wholly wasted, and I have a feeling His Majesty will take kindly to you."

"What?" She had enough time to peer back at the second gentleman before being quite literally flung into the hall. She stumbled over her dress, turning around quickly in confusion. "But- who-"

"On behalf of the Goblin Kingdom, do enjoy yourself as our guest. We will be sure to see you soon."

---

And with that the door promptly slammed shut in her face. She stood there for a moment in the darkness, silent and utterly flabbergasted. What-what peculiar fellows they were! Of all the… She couldn't decide if she should be amused or frightened. That'd happened so suddenly. She wasn't sure how to feel. Honestly, who were those men? She had a feeling she ought to know. So curious they were...

Still pondering, she turned around to face the light. She could hear music, laughter, smell the scent of food and wine. Was that really it? Perhaps she could just slip in without anyone noticing. She continued to ponder their conversation, scrunching her brow and glancing back as she debated whether or not to chase after them. Was there a reason the younger fellow had gotten rid of her so quickly? Why did he look so amused in doing so? The other man...why did he look so sad?

Turning away, she thought it best to simply put the whole affair out of her mind. She'd finally found her way after all. It was time to do what she'd come here for.

As she walked towards the room, one last thought popped into her head. During all her fluster she'd completely forgotten to ask their names.

---

The man stepped away from the door once he was sure she would not reopen it and turned to his companion with a wicked smile.

"Well that one was interesting!"

The man with the grimace looked away, his brow drawing to glower.

"I suppose. Though extremely naive."

"The more ignorant the better, I say," he responded, folding his arms and turning away. He continued to spy on him however, observing the troubled look that refused to leave his friend's face. "I think you liked her," he added, smiling mischievously when a quick glare was his response. It was almost immediately however that the look changed. It softened in his eyes but became sharp in his grin.

"Perhaps ...I think you did as well."

"Well, of course I did."

"In that case...I'll be sure to have some fun with her." His grin stretched to a more familiar playfulness as he laughed, and together they turned to walk back into the darkness.

---

As hoped, her entrance into the room went considerably unnoticed. She was careful, of course overly conspicuous but nonetheless safe. She glanced back and saw the doorway was framed quite literally, a gilded picture frame in lieu of a door. How interesting, she thought. She looked up and, like a salon, found that the entire wall was fitted with canvases. She smiled as she gazed over it, finding that not only clever but somewhat romantic, as if she and her companions were just another painting coming to life.

She slipped amidst her company easily, none of them had any care to mind her, and glanced around. The entire room was alive with various manners of cajoling. There were couches and tables and chaises, a balcony and even a floor for dancing. Every part fully utilized by what she'd come to know as beings of a finer eloquence. Such grace and poise did they have, such gentle smiles and voices, as if they knew she was watching, or rather were hoping that someone would be.

As she marveled at it all, it was almost hard to believe the rest of the castle had been so empty. You would never guess from all the commotion in this one room. There were several dozen women at least, goblin servants scurrying between them, a few high-born gents set to keep the peace. Now this was something more familiar to her. A setting that should have brought her ease. She'd been told when she arrived that the king did not like too many guests. That was why they were escorted alone, without envoys. She was suspicious of course but perhaps that made sense…

And now she'd finally arrived. She was here and unscathed and unscolded. Yet after so much preparation and fretting her excitement faded and, very quickly it seemed, somehow it all felt so...distant, unwelcoming even. Perhaps it was her conversation with the dour duo that had roused such feelings...

Being in this room was like stepping into another world compared the drab darkness of the hall. The walls were painted, the moulding gilded, the furniture neat and finely crafted. There was no dust here, no weathered stone. No glitter through the sunshine. Amidst these things so common to her, that one observation she found to be unanimously depressing. There was such evidence of luxury and affluence...was she the only one who thought it out of place? It all seemed so constructed ...fake.

There was no history here. At least, none that anyone cared to see. The more she watched, the more she saw the farce for what it was. This place was artifice, a cage designed to keep its inhabitants ignorant and otherwise blissful and indeed they were. Oh how they laughed, how they smiled and blinked so slowly. The scene was like a painting in its duplicity, each one claimed authenticity, each one feigning life.

Indeed it was a festivity, for the show put on was grand and well executed. All these women...the masks they wore were not intended for the fancy of each other, of course not, they were intended for His Majesty and for the many men amongst them who caught their eye and brushed their shoulders in reward for such cultured acts of desperation. There were a few of them she noticed, scattered about the epicenters of every horde. Who were they? Were they like the men in the hall? Emissaries? Ambassadors? Servants even? She understood how overwhelming it might be for His Majesty to entertain so many vying prospects alone. These men were meant to serve as a buffer, high nobles of equal repute no doubt, to hold the attention of the masses while the king prowled and pounced. She wondered then which was which? Who was the king and who knew of this? Surely those women who recognized him would stay close to his side? But then again, they would not want to reveal such knowledge would they? But try to monopolize him at their discretion. From her alien perspective it was impossible to tell. Should she even bother trying?

She walked from one side of the room to the other as she thought. She was meant to join in, to rotate in circuit and showcase her particular power of seduction. So tedious that was, and so disgusting were they, clamoring around and throwing themselves at strangers in the effort to gain something that was for all intents and purposes inconsequential to them. What would this marriage give them that they did not already have? Wealth? Power? Prestige? None that was new to them. No, it would gain them a crown, simply put. Did they have any interest in the man who wore it? Had they stopped to think why such a man would put on such an obnoxious rouse? She could see now why they called it a farce. And yet she'd been so worried in coming here.

By now she was frowning, standing alone at one end of the room. Deeply sobered, she turned and faced the paintings. While the scenes before her were ideally suited and similar to the scenes behind her, she found these ironically to be more genuine, more beautiful and with just a faint allusion to the compassion her own scene lacked. Perhaps the man was right. Perhaps she shouldn't have bothered in coming.

There was a sound of a door opening and she peered over to it reflexively. Another group of women entered, looking around with the same sense of excitement she initially had. How long, she wondered, until that brightness dimmed? Would they notice it at all?

She watched them as they moved as a group to stand in a line before the door, and this pegged her attention further. Her eyes roamed down the line until she caught a glimpse of a gentleman standing to the end of them. He had his back to her, but she could see he held a chart of some sort. He would speak and the women would speak back and she realized he must be taking their names. She should probably join them, she thought. She'd finally made it all the way there and it didn't seem like she'd missed much.

Without a word she took a place at the end of the row, wallowing in a queer sense of disappointment. She spotted some of the women from her group up ahead. They were laughing and drinking merrily. There was a man sitting next to them and her eyes narrowed on the hand he used to caress their necks. They'd completely forgotten about her, hadn't they? As if she'd never existed...

"Ahem."

Startled, she peered up quickly and blinked from her daze. The man taking toll was before her now, staring down at his chart impatiently. Oh dear. How long had she been daydreaming? He was quite prompt wasn't he? She looked around and saw that she was the only one left in line.

"Your name?" the man asked, his tone low and vaguely agitated. She imagined that was how they all felt, knowing that while these droves of fair maidens admired and preened and threw themselves utterly, none of them cared for any such suitor in the slightest. Why they bothered attacking anyone but His Majesty, she wasn't sure. Perhaps to them it was all the same.

"My name?" she repeated, still somewhat dazed by the dystopian revelry. She immediately sensed his impatience however and flicked her eyes back towards him.

She hadn't expected him to look up as well, hadn't expected their gazes to lock. She opened her mouth to speak but her voice suddenly left her and she inhaled sharply at the strange twist that climbed up her chest. She caught his gaze widen and sharpen and she drew back in return. Her mouth was still open but she could not conquer this feeling, this inexplicable shudder. She'd never seen eyes so beautiful, the deepest emerald green.

She took in another breath and drew her brow, watching his eyes lower to her lips as she bit them.

"M-my name sir?" she repeated and felt her shoulders tremble. "It's...It is ...Aurelia."

---

He realized he was staring and quickly tore his eyes away. Clenching his jaw, he swallowed hard and scowled down at his chart.

"Aurelia you say?" he repeated, already chastising himself for the waver he could hear in his own voice. She was still staring at him, staring at him so blatantly. None of the others had such a daring gaze. None of the others were so beautiful. And yet he'd approached her without hesitation.

"Yes. From Yore. My father is Emalyuss, Duke of Seerva'nah," she said, and again her voice begged his attention. He peered up just slightly, just enough to see her gulp and lower her gaze. He quickly took down her name.

"I see...From Yore...That means you're late."

"Oh yes, but I didn't mean it!"

He was startled when she reached out for him, perhaps too startled by the way she recoiled immediately after. He glared up but the strange panic about him refused to abate. Her fingers were curling then quickly went back to her side.

"Forgive me...that was much too forward." she said, her voice now subdued. Her lips were pursed, so round and pink. He caught himself staring at her again.

She didn't quite know what to do. This was no way to conduct herself...She was just so...unprepared. Who was this man? He was more formal than all the rest, his dark hair slicked back on the sides, his gloves and boots neatly polished. He wore a vest and a coat, the sigil of the Goblin Kingdom prominently displayed. He stared at her with such seriousness and he...perhaps ...no. Could he be the king? Her father had told her nothing, only his name, but that was not something she could blatantly ask for under such circumstances. She started to bite the inside of her lip again, deeply worried she'd made a poor impression.

"W-why were you late?" he asked, clearing his throat before he spoke. Aurelia looked up but this time he kept his gaze strictly away.

"It...it is no fair excuse really, one of sheer foolishness. A goblin had stolen the favor I intended to give to His Majesty you see and...I saw fit to pursue. I got a bit lost in the lower levels. It took me some time to find my way." She felt deeply guilty all of a sudden as she recounted her tale, making herself a perfect hypocrite for threatening to idle away in the hall. If she hadn't chatted with those men she would have been here a great deal sooner. Perhaps then this stranger wouldn't look down on her with such hard eyes. She wondered, then, why in the world she cared so much.

"I see...well, you made it on your own and that is no small feat." She looked up from the floor with an impulsive, beaming smile and the man visibly recoiled. That smile...it was sure to ruin him. It took him another moment to compose himself. "You haven't missed much. This gathering will last for quite some time. Please, do relax and enjoy yourself."

It took her a moment to respond and by the knitting of his brow she realized they were both just staring again. She looked away and blinked furiously.

"O-of course. Thank you. Again I apologize for my tardiness and...thank you for having me." She lowered her head but resisted the unexpected urge to bow, instead she turned away swiftly and left. For some reason she could not compose herself. She trekked to the far side of the room and did not stop until there was nowhere left to go. Facing the wall she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This feeling...what in the world? She had no idea what had come over her just then but all she could think about was his face and the way he judged her, the way she hoped she had been seen. How vulgar of her. She scolded herself over and over but still the thought remained. That man...why do I want it to be him?

---

Time passed, perhaps an hour or so, maybe five. She couldn't tell. All the while she'd been searching for him, that beautiful man she'd met, waiting anxiously for his company. After they'd parted only one more group arrived. After taking their attendance it seemed he was free to join the rest of them. She became excited. Maybe she would get the chance to speak with him again. She kept spying on him, discreetly of course, or perhaps not. She kept herself confined to a couch, content to watch the flaunting of empty promises unfold.

Several men approached her and while she entertained them civilly her disinterest in them was made readily apparent. For whatever reason, none of the other women would join her and so the suitors left one after another. She did not mind this. In fact she preferred it. She had no intention of flattering them.

She kept her eyes close to that man, the man with the dark hair and eyes. Was it purely physical? Was she simply startled by her attraction? He looked so very young. His black hair cut short, a messy curl or two falling in the front. He wore all black as well, shiny metal accents on his boots and belt. It was probably unwise to observe him so closely. She was supposed to be finding His Majesty, wasn't she? The way his sharp eyebrows twitched when a woman spoke left her feeling unsettled and shameful. She was sure it wasn't intentional but he always kept a fair amount of distance between them. He never sat, he never danced. He merely stood and conversed, and only when spoken to first.

She was jealous of the women that approached him so effortlessly. She told herself she was one in the same, that she had every right to approach him, to laugh and flutter her lashes and touch his arm as teasingly as they did…

And yet she did not. Was it sheer nerves? Shame? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that seeing him had confined the most aggressive of butterflies in her stomach and the strength it might take to simply approach him and risk rousing it further would be the end of her. And so she sat, minding her own and pretending to wonder at all of the lovely visages...

"Um, excuse me?"

She was staring at a painting hanging on the wall next her to her when he spoke. Another false suitor she assumed. She took her time in answering him.

"Yes?"

She looked up and blanched, the hand her jaw had been resting on lowering as she sat up straight. Her eyes widened, though she prayed she concealed it well.

"I noticed you've been alone for quite some time. ...May I join you?"

He was staring down at her, his dark green eyes boring deep, his brow knitted with worry it seemed. She clenched her jaw and shifted slightly, glancing to the cushion she intended him to take.

"Of course. By all means," she said, sitting so rigidly as he sat beside her. This wasn't good. She wasn't expecting this. From his statement, it would imply that he had been watching her as well. Had he seen her staring? She peered over and feigned proper poise, folding her hands neatly in her lap. She was so caught off guard...she could have sworn he was just on the other side of the room. "Are you enjoying the reception?"

"As much as one can," he responded, shifting his coat to sit more comfortably. He kept a healthy distance between them but still she could feel his heat, smell his faint scent. She wanted to lean closer, but could she dare? Why did the desire to just brush his sleeve feel so scandalous?

"I understand, sadly. How much longer will this go on?"

"Hard to say, until I feel like throwing them all out I suppose."

He didn't seem to be joking and she stared at him long enough to tell. Did he really have that authority? Surely that was a hint no? Perhaps she should have inquired more into His Majesty's description. At the very least the color of his hair. At the time such things...didn't matter to her.

"I noticed you had quite the crowd gathered around you. Have you found any of them to be queen material?" she asked, playfully, though hid her face in her cup when he turned to face her.

"I suppose any of them will do," he said, with a rather neutral inflection. She found that curious.

"In that case, why invite so many?"

He glanced at her then, from the side of his eye. It was a quick gesture, one she barely noticed. She was smiling, a faint curl of the lips. He became lost in that smile. If only for a moment.

"The more the merrier...as they say." His voice trailed off and she tilted her head slightly. His gaze had become somewhat wayward. Like he was lost in a thought.

"I see. You must be pleasantly merry then."

She turned away and gazed out over the crowd, content just to have him near. He continued to stare at her, his eyes running along the contour of her profile, the elegant curve of her nose, the sharp arch of her upper lip. Her hair fell in tumbles of golden curls. They shone and reflected the bleak desert light so brightly.

"Actually…" and his voice trailed off. "I've been rather bored." She turned back to him with a raised brow.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I find I don't fancy any of these women. Not that it matters." This time he held her gaze and she thought perhaps there was something more poignant he meant to convey, sadly she had not the ability to discern it and only glanced away.

"I see...A tragedy then."

"Yes. We've held about five of these events already and still none have stood out."

"And here I thought any of them would do? Perhaps His Majesty has a preference after all."

"Yes...perhaps. Perhaps he simply...does not know what that preference is."

Her eyes peered back to him most shrewdly, though not shrewdly enough for they locked onto his immediately. His expression had become stern. It was like he was inspecting her, the contemplation behind his eyes readily apparent. She wondered if he realized how strongly he directed it at her.

"P-perhaps it's the presentation then?" she asked, becoming flustered for just a moment before tearing her eyes away again. She sat up taller, held her chin higher. He couldn't even tell her smile was forced.

"Presentation?"

"Yes. If the king is looking for a wife, perhaps he should meet some of them in a more authentic setting."

"Is that not a waste of time? At least here intentions are made clear," he said, turning away from her to search over the crowd.

"...I suppose. One could regard such deception as the most sincere. However I do not believe love should be a competition. It is...so very sad."

"Such is the way of things, I'm afraid. Do not mistake me, your words would be wise...if the king was actually looking for a wife."

"Pardon?" When she turned back to him there was a slight frown on her face. Apparently she was genuinely surprised by such a revelation. He hated himself in that moment, for being the one to hamper that smile.

"You are right. Love should not be a competition and indeed it is not. Your sympathies are misplaced if you think what he seeks and what they offer is love, or even the faint guise of it for that matter," he said, though she only stared at him confusedly. "I...get the impression that what he's looking for is a means. The king cannot be coronated until he has married a queen, you know. He has little interest in a conventional wife, more so in his own ambition. Under the circumstances, I don't think one could blame him."

"I see...how unfortunate for them. Why then does the decision matter at all?" She was hoping, praying actually, that speaking in the third person was merely a tactic, that he was being discreet with his identity, that this really was the man she was supposed to be swooning for. The look on his face had become so very sad. Like he had already given up. She hated it. She'd never hated anything at all.

"I can't...rightly say."

She frowned at his response and he frowned even deeper to see it was because of him. He quickly looked away and steeled his expression.

"Forgive me, I should not say such things. I'm sure you were excited for the prospect…and here I am souring the mood." His voice slowly tapered off with skepticism. What the hell was he saying? Was he actually telling her her efforts were in vain? Why would he do that? He should be evaluating her for Jareth, not steering her away like this...All he knew was how uncomfortable he'd become, how the thought of her as a candidate brought fear and anxiety to the pit of his stomach. He wanted her to frown, to lower her eyes from the allure of the king. If she lowered her gaze...it might fall on him. What? Did he really just think of something so profane? He'd never thought something so selfish. He'd never felt something so shameful.

"No, I appreciate your honesty."

He turned his worried gaze back to find her smiling at him most pleasantly. Her round eyes shone bright, her head tilted ever so slightly. He fisted his hands in his lap.

"Are you not disappointed? Surely you expected more from the King of Goblins?"

He was nearly squirming now. Staving it fiercely. This woman was not here for him. He had no right to say such things. Was he merely afraid? Afraid of what might happen? Why was he so ambivalent? The more he thought, the more he realized she was the last person he wanted to be queen. What in gods' blazes was coming over him?

"On the contrary I expected nothing. Now however, I believe I understand. I once felt sympathy for the king, having to be surrounded by so many superficial suitors. But if what you say is true, then it would seem they are in fact well-suited. Now I only pity him."

He looked over to find her staring straight ahead, a minor glower concealed behind the brim of her tea cup. The tension in her brow was so faint, yet it set his heart racing. Had he done something to offend her? Were his words too forward? Should he apologize?

"Ah-I'm sorry-"

"Hm? For what?"

The look she glanced back at him with was innocent, leaving him fumbling for the right words. Had he misinterpreted her? Why was he panicking? Was that the wrong thing to say?

"I-uh…"

"Well, look who it is!"

Both Aurelia and her companion peered over as a man rudely interrupted his stuttering. Her eyes went wide and for a moment she sat back.

"Y-it's you!"

She blinked furiously as the man she'd come to refer to as the one of the left stepped forward and threw himself into the seat between them without preamble. Both she and the dark haired stranger inched back, trying to awkwardly make room as the chipper blond fellow outstretched his arms wide around both their shoulders. She was about to gasp at such audacity but her nerves kept her as quiet as a mouse.

"I say, I don't believe I ever asked your name," he said, smiling so boyishly he seemed like another person entirely. He was staring straight at her, ignoring her companion completely. He seemed to be in a much better mood than when they'd met in the hall. She sat up straighter and composed herself.

"And neither did you offer me yours," she countered, raising her brow though keeping the rest of her expression guarded. He turned towards her and extended an arm along the back of the couch even further, a gesture her eyes followed coyly.

"Ah but that would ruin the game now wouldn't it?"

"I told you I have no intention of playing," she said, pretending to turn her nose up at him. She spied on the other man as she did so, only to become confused at the way he grimaced so petulantly. The blond man saw all of this and smiled further.

"Aurelia, is it not?" She turned back to him slowly. "Pardon me, I could not help but inquire," he added, throwing her a wink as he leaned back against the couch. With his profile out of the way she stole another glimpse of the man behind him. He was staring hard at the floor.

"Hardly fair. You have me at a disadvantage," she said, warily.

"I have everyone at a disadvantage," he replied, though it was more of a grumble- "Ah, and where are you going exactly?" He spoke up as the man by his side begrudgingly stood to take his leave. She noticed the blond man's smile then, how intent it was. She didn't quite like it. There was more to it than what let on. With worry, she brought her gaze to her companion, fearful he might actually leave.

"Forgive me...I assumed my presence was no longer needed."

"No longer needed?" she interjected. The man's gaze caught hers though quickly shifted away. She didn't like that either. Didn't like that she'd caused such a reaction. The man on the couch rolled his head back to her, his legs crossing leisurely as one foot bounced cheerfully.

"It isn't wise to leave a Lady's company without being first dismissed, you of all people should know that Roldan."

W-what?

"...Of course. Please Madame, your forgiveness. I meant no offense, it is not my wish to bother you any longer." The tone of his voice had changed dramatically and it caused a flurry of panic to rise quickly in Aurelia's chest. She was still bewildered. Still awestruck. Still so incredibly...disappointed. Her brow furrowed on him and then sagged. Again he looked away, the glimmer she'd once seen now smothered from his gaze.

"N-no apology is necessary. You were not a bother sir-Roldan was it? No, not in the slightest." She saw his ear tense as his jaw locked, though she could only misinterpret the reason why. He bowed to her then and her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. He kept his gaze away from her now. Purposefully.

"You have my gratitude then. It was a pleasure to be in your company. Please excuse me."

She watched silently as he walked away, as he turned his back to her without a second glance. Her brow was so deeply worried; she should have been more self aware. The man beside her however only smiled wider. It seemed he had something quite pertinent on his mind.

"I think he likes you," he said, earning a sharp and feverish look. Her cheeks blushed immediately, something she was just as quick in subduing. She glanced away, her lower lip protruding slightly as she pouted.

"You are quite brazen Sir, some may even call it crass. But alas, where did you and that other fellow go? Do you work in shifts or?" she asked, overtly changing the subject. The man tilted his head slightly in response. His sense of connivery far too stimulated. So, she still hadn't figured it out?

"No...I simply got tired of it. T'is tedious work after all, enduring all these women." He cast her an eye and ran a hand through his hair, making sure the gesture caught her attention. Her eyes found him just as his looked away. It was the left side of his scalp that was shaved and thus facing her, leaving her to admire his strong profile.

"Yes, I imagine it is. For His Majesty most of all." She'd turned her gaze back to the crowd, forcefully it seemed. She was too shaken to risk their gazes locking.

"What makes you say that? Surely His Majesty loves it. He is after all the object of their affections."

"Object of their ambitions, maybe. I see nothing affectionate in the scene before me, nor the appeal in being rendered an object," she said, frowning just slightly. Little did he know, she was busy trying to find the man he called Roldan. He'd disappeared into the crowd quite quickly. Why? Why was she even pondering this? She was supposed to be meeting the king and his name...his name was…

The man leaned towards her a little, highly intrigued.

"So steadfast you are in those contrary-convictions of yours. Still determined to not win over his heart?"

"Your rhetoric is quite shrewd sir; no I am not determined in one way or another, but of course you already know that." She peered over with a slight scowl, one completely unintentional. She needed to get ahold of herself. She thought he may be teasing her again but she couldn't muster her guard.

"Indeed..."

"That man...you said his name was Roldan?" she asked, turning her beam of a stare directly at him. For a moment it caught him off guard, as he realized only now that all the while she hadn't been paying attention to him in the slightest.

"Yes...did he not introduce himself?" he asked, teasingly. Aurelia peered down, a faint sense of guilt pulling her features.

"No...it was my fault really. I should have asked. I simply didn't want to be rude, and I have a terrible tendency to miss my cue. I had just assumed…"

"Assumed?"

She was about to explain when another strange voice called out to them.

"Ah! There you are. I might've known you'd seek her out."

Both Aurelia and the fair-haired stranger looked up to meet the even fairer-haired man on the right. He dropped down to one knee and took her hand.

"Aurelia is a lovely name. And apt I'm sure."

"Apt?" she repeated, eyeing him strangely as he rose and took the seat on the other side of her.

"Of course. The Aurelia of the moon no? Sublime creatures, land-jellyfish some call them. Bewitching in their beauty, but not without a deadly sting."

What? What was he talking about? Was that a compliment? She was trying to keep up with their fervid energies, yet still she could not focus, still trying to wrap her head around the disillusionment that that man was not the king...

"You are trying too hard, brother."

"Brother?"

Her gaze darted sharply to her right, to her left, to both the men who kept her caged so cordially.

"Why yes. Did you not know?"

She gaped plainly at the man on the right, ironically seated on her left. He stared at her with such a smug grin. Conniving it was, the both of them.

"No...no I-"

"There is a great deal it seems she does not know," interrupted the elder brother. "For instance. I think she actually thought Roldan was king."

"Wait, really?!"

"Excuse me?" Her voice rang with offense as the younger brother burst into laughter. She shifted away from him, not noticing the tapping of the other man's fingers as his arm encircled her shoulders a little more.

"Oh gods...Forgive me, Milady. I did not expect to laugh so hard," he said, glancing down as he pretended to wipe away a tear from his eye. "I mean no offense really. Jareth, are you not terribly insulted?"

Jareth?

"No. I find it quite amusing actually. I was watching him make a fool of himself for so long. I couldn't help but see him scamper off!"

"Wait- you're-" and her eyes rose to his with sudden alarm "Your...Majesty?" The man's smile broadened greatly as the realization lit up her eyes.

He tilted his head towards her, narrowing his gaze as he whispered, "Do you remember our conversation in the hall? About what you would do when you finally met the king? I dare say, you are a terrible liar." There was a dastardly glimmer in his eye as he grinned, but she had not the time to ponder it as she burst into a fit of repentance.

"I-I I am so sorry! Please forgive me Your Majesty. I-I did not mean to insult you! I didn't-I didn't know! Please, please forgive me!" A few of the women turned their glances back as she stood and bowed deeply, and no sooner did their fans raise to cover their mouths as they snickered.

With more room on the couch, Jareth eased back and relaxed his posture further.

"Heh, what are you panicking now for? Had you not prepared so many other things to say?"

Aurelia blinked dumbly. She was making a fool of herself, she could see it all unfolding into bitter catastrophe. Yet what was she to do?!

"Y-yes. I mean ...I apologize for my tardiness. Thank you for inviting me, your castle is lovely-"

"I thought you had no intention of flattering me?"

She froze and a widened gaze joined her furrowed brow as she stood still bowing towards the floor. For gods' sake, this was no way for a lady to act. She knew this. There were eyes on her all around. Why, why was her only hope that that man -Roldan- didn't see her like this?

"Jareth, come now, you're just torturing the poor girl." She peered up at the other man, his brother, the king's brother, and gaped. He was smiling wryly as well, though there was a hint of honest pity in his eyes. He waited for their gazes to lock before continuing. "Please excuse him. He can be a bit of a boor at times. Come sit with me instead. I'll treat you much more kindly."

"You...and you are His Highness Prince Davion?" she asked, ignoring his offer completely.

"That title on your lips makes it sound so much more noble than it really is," he said, giving her an innocent smile as she stared at him. She was still riddled with bewilderment, so much that it had Jareth misinterpreting her expression. He rose a brow and stared at the gaze that was not staring back at him.

"Well?"

Her head darted back at the sound of impatience in the king's voice. He looked disgruntled now, watching her intently. Oh dear, she really had made an atrocious mistake, hadn't she?

"E-excuse me?"

"I asked you didn't I? What would happen should the king not leave? You were so quick to decide my actions; though unlike my brother here, I have no intention of leaving." His gaze sharpened as it lowered and glanced to the side. It seemed there was a moment of dialogue that passed between them, for wordlessly the man called Davion cracked another smirk, stood from his seat and left without the slightest fuss. Aurelia's eyes followed after him, deeply troubled by how ominous her situation had just become.

"...You have been mocking me then. This entire time."

"No. Only just now."

"You are cruel to toy with my sensibilities. I must beg you, why did you not introduce yourself?" she asked, then immediately realized her tone and withdrew to frown at the floor. She should not raise her voice to the king...she should not raise her voice at all.

"You did not ask." She peered up instinctively as he shifted in his spot. "I see you pouting, yet you were the one who spoke without inhibition to two total strangers."

"...And you allowed me to carry on. Am I to be punished for such impertinence?" she asked. Her shoulders were tensing already. How many lashings would she receive for this? A hundred? Two?

"Punished? On what grounds?" he countered, and again Aurelia could not stop herself from gaping up at him. "I prefer honesty. And honestly, I found our conversation to be rather refreshing. Tell me, did you truly not wish to come here?"

Her mouth opened then closed. She wasn't sure what to say or how to act. Was he still testing her? Surely she would be reprimanded for her deplorable behavior?

"I...do not wish to insult His-"

"I don't care if you insult me. I asked you a question."

She flinched at the seriousness in his voice and subconsciously fisted her hands out in front of her. Her eyes were locked on his, the most audacious act imaginable. She wanted to respond but could only bite her cheek. She was still standing awkwardly in front of him. People were probably starting to gossip. In shame, or rather for her own reprieve, she lowered her eyes and carefully took the seat next to him.

"...No. No I did not wish to journey here," she said, keeping her voice hushed so others could not hear. "I believe one should marry for love, not convenience."

"What about this situation is convenient?" he retorted, again catching her off guard. His hand gripped the back of the couch slightly and she recoiled from the surprise of how close to touching her he was. He found himself sighing then and leaned forward towards her even more. "I notice you have been looking around. What do you see?"

She blinked frantically at his proximity, at how overtly he was trying to unnerve her. She knew immediately that he enjoyed it, that this was part of his game. She also knew that when women trembled before him it was probably for one particular reason, did he realize she was trembling because of something else entirely?

"I see a cage," she responded, swallowing her nerves and staring out over the crowd. "I see a chest full of toys and paintings devoid of subjects."

"Hm. You and I have a similar eye." There was a slight curl to his lips as he spoke, something she noticed as she spied him discreetly from her peripheral. "To tell you the truth, I'm growing very tired of these gatherings."

"Huh? Why?" She found herself asking without thinking, revealing a curiosity that made him smile wider.

"None of this interests me," he responded, turning to look down at her wide expression. For just a moment she didn't care that their gazes locked.

"Is that why you were in the hall? Trying to escape?"

He seemed to pause before responding. His eyes flickered down but it was a gesture as contemplative as it was lewd. Somehow, she knew better than to presume the former.

"Heh, if only for a moment."

"...Then why do you do it?"

"Is that a real question?" he asked, shifting his posture and probably moving in closer. "I am in need of a wife, remember?"

"Because you cannot be coronated until you marry?"

"So it would seem."

His arm was fully around her by this point, his forearm draping over her shoulder. She didn't care that he was touching her; as shocking as it should have been, his proximity to her only became less intimidating. Plainly stated, she had far too much on her mind to be phased by his lechery.

"Then...why does it matter?" Her gaze had fallen to her lap and become sullen. Jareth stared after her, his head tilting just slightly. Her brow furrowed deeply, those golden locks obscuring much of it from him. "Aren't you being awfully considerate towards something that should be no less trivial than a stepping stone?" And now he himself frowned, the arm he held behind her neck starting to pull away reflexively.

"I suppose you're right. I could simply pick and be done with it."

"Unless the matter means more to you than you care to admit," she stated, turning to glance up at him with intrigue. That stare of hers, it was so narrow and focused, it seemed to shoot straight through him, leaving him bemused to the fact that somehow the tables were suddenly turned and he was the one squirming from her proximity. "It would be nice to love the person you are to spend the remainder of your days with, no?"

"I'm not in a position to concern myself with love," he said, pulling his arm away from her and shifting to a more appropriate position. Aurelia tilted her head, for some reason he seemed apprehensive.

"Then perhaps companionship? You yourself just admitted you would still prefer something interesting did you not? Is that not why you are bored? Because you're looking for someone who at the very least captures your interest?"

This time he cracked a smile. He couldn't help it. This woman was so odd. He couldn't gauge her.

"...Perhaps."

"There is no shame in that. Even if it is just a stepping stone. You never know, you could even come to cherish that stone one day. For you know, amongst the millions of pebbles in the world no two are formed the same...Then again, people are not pebbles, so perhaps I am wrong. But even still, one must choose carefully."

A peculiar grin formed on Jareth's lips as he watched her speak. She spoke assuredly, completely unaware of how ridiculous she sounded. So innocent. He was actually amused. But more than that, he was actually listening. Behind the nerves and awkwardness there was real wisdom in this woman wasn't there? Did she even realize it? Apparently not, if the way her brow rose when she turned to face him was any indication. This time, his eyes felt compelled to lower.

"Hmph, you're quite the romantic, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. I pity those who are anything else. What is this fantastic place without romance? A wasteland. Nothing more." His grin spread wider.

"A void filled with delusion then? That is a very childish way to view the world."

"Yes it is. I suspect one day it shall be my greatest downfall."

"Spoken like a true Romantic." He peered up as she quirked her brow, his gaze looking slightly past her. He couldn't help it. He was distracted now. There was something so unfamiliar about her; what once he found refreshing now left him exposed, as if he'd never before had a conversation so plain, never one so...unencumbered.

"Indeed. And, from one romantic to another-"

"Another?" he interjected, having to stifle a faint laugh.

"Yes. If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, I do not think you are quite as pessimistic as you seem."

"My, you must be very naive indeed."

---

Davion stood at the back of the room. He would never admit it, but Jareth's posturing had struck a bit of a nerve. How irksome. He only acted like that when women were around, when he was the one receiving attention. And here he was thinking they could share that flighty blonde one. Oh well. There were plenty more to choose from…

He turned around to scour the scene and quirked a devilish brow at what his eyes landed on. Look at him...How rude, sticking out like a sore thumb...

"I say, what's got you looking so dour?" he asked, startling pitiful Roldan with a jab to the ribs after appearing across the room beside him. The poor thing, he nearly spilled his glass he was so pensive. Oh dear, what in the world could have gotten him so perturbed?

"Ah-excuse me, Your Highness-" he stammered, a reaction Davion took such delight in.

"Hm...have you seen my brother? I fear he's abandoned me," he asked, leaning obnoxiously against Roldan's shoulder as he gripped his chin. Roldan's eyes fluttered for a moment, forcing his gaze to the floor.

"No. I mean-yes. Yes he's...still conversing...with Lady Aurelia." Oh. That tone. Davion knew that tone. My my, what fun he was about to have.

"Really? I dare say they've been at it for quite a while then, aye? Perhaps he likes her. Wouldn't that be something?" he asked, teasingly. He could feel the tension in Roldan's posture and leaned against him further.

"Yes...I suppose it would-"

"Oh don't sound so glum. I'm sure you'll get your chance. After I get mine, of course. So long as you don't mind leftovers."

Davion's smile faded to find his goading met with stark silence. Little did he realize, Roldan had stopped paying attention to him completely, that annoyingly worried gaze of his cast back over the crowd. They really had been talking for a while, noticeably. But why was he worried? He had no reason to be. It was as if he was concerned for her safety. But...the fine details, the things he noticed. Not once had Jareth's hand risen to caress her shoulder or cheek. Not once had he leaned in with that grin, raked his eyes, kissed the top of her hand. She was safe from his prowling it seemed but…perhaps that was what worried him most of all. Instead he saw focus, attention, consideration in his posture. They were having an actual conversation. Why...why did that seem so much more dangerous...to him?

He was envious of how freely he spoke to her, how appropriate it was. It was a feeling unwelcome to him. He'd never been envious of Jareth, over anything for any reason. For all he'd endured, for all their fickle circumstances, he'd never once been resentful or bitter. And yet as he stared at them, that quaint scene before him seemed more taunting than any lewd suggestion coming out of Davion's mouth.

And it was not his friend that made him bitter. It was the way she stared back at him. The way her eyes grew wide with earnest, with intrigue, with a light that he knew would never, in any lifetime, ever be meant for him.

The moment he saw them part ways brought immeasurable relief. He saw her alone once more and, as awful as it was, he hoped, no, prayed that she stayed that way.

---

An array of fine colour glinted and undulated, almost like a saturated vision of the sea. It twinkled and twankled and dangled almost to the floor as pearls and amethyst and emerald, citrine, ruby and sapphire. Or perhaps a garden, a flowerbed in perfect, pointilized hardened harmony -or something fancy like that.

Sarah stared as gem after precious gem was laid out before her, the table she looked down on displaying more wealth than she ever thought her plebeian eyes would behold. Gold and silver, necklaces and rings and fine interweavings, things someone of her position should be accustomed to wearing, and yet… She'd opened her mouth to speak several times, but the opulence was near overwhelming.

"And this I bought from a merchant my mother used to take me to when I was little. Oh! And this one is a gift from my aunt. This ring here was my grandmother's, my parents wanted you to have it with their goodwill. Oh and this one-"

"Um, Marie?"

"This was made with pearls collected from the reef just below my home, and oh- see the metalwork here? It's a trademarked style of the Maedaleyn islands, the region my father lords over. And this here-"

"Ah...Mariella?"

"Yes, yes, I know it's a lot but really I thought I was packing lightly. I just got so excited at the markets I tell you, and my family wanted to send you a plentiful offering. A thank you, really, for keeping me in your service. They have great admiration for you, oh and His Majesty as well, but really they wanted to please you. I kept telling them, 'oh no it's fine, she doesn't even wear jewelry!' But honestly I just wanted to pack more of my own findings. I imagine you're thankful I convinced my mother to keep my great great grandmother's wedding tiara!"

"MARIELLA!"

Marie paused and looked up. Through that entire rant she hadn't once stopped the conveyor belt that were her arms unloading, what Sarah considered to be, a quite ostentatious maritime bounty. She blinked a couple of times, as if confused by the intensity, or rather bewilderment, of Sarah's returning stare.

"Yes?"

"I think you're getting a little carried away here," Sarah said, eyeing the table between them literally overflowing with jewels. There was a trunk between them, still half loaded, which Marie's hands fiercely gripped. Mariella looked down again, as if just realizing the mess she'd made.

"Oh...I guess you're right," she said, and laughed.

It had been several days since Mariella departed for her hometown, a week, maybe even more. Sarah wasn't exactly keeping track. It was longer than planned, but that didn't matter to her so much as it did Marie, who'd been apologizing near incessantly. When she returned to the castle that morning her exclamation had breathed new vigor into the old castle walls. Sarah, minding her own business and loitering on a random balcony, had been caught pleasantly off guard by the resounding call of her name which grew suredly louder as Marie bounded to her -current trunk (and many other things) in tow. Sarah had turned around to be nearly knocked off her feet by a warm embrace, quite literally, as Sarah could still feel the heat of the ocean sun on Mariella's skin. It seemed the sunlight itself grew brighter, and she realized it was because she really did miss her.

However, Mariella's excitement did not abate; instead it seemed the connection of their stares sparked something long pent up as she took Sarah by the arms and with the biggest, beamingest, smile said: "I cannot wait to show you all the things I've brought for you."

And so here she was, bearing witness to all of the corporeal fancies which clearly this crazy woman had subconsciously bought for herself.

"So most of this is from your parents you say?" Sarah asked.

"Indeed. They were very excited for me to deliver them. I am to emphasize that each piece was hand chosen to show honor and deference to the queen." Her smile was giddy, with a slight bounce perking in her voice. It made Sarah smile too. She was glad Marie was also happy to be back.

"I see...I don't really know what to say. It's all so much."

"Yes, it is. I do apologize. I know these types of things aren't particularly in your interest. But this is what my home is known for. The islands are rich in gem deposits and house some of the most renowned artisans in Orpia."

"I see...Well, they're all really beautiful. You'll have to help me coordinate my wardrobe," Sarah said, giving her a reassuring smile. It wasn't that she didn't like being given such ridiculously expensive things, she was just genuinely overwhelmed by it. To Marie this all seemed commonplace, all the while Sarah couldn't stop wondering how much it all might be worth in the Aboveground. She'd never stopped to consider such a thing as affluence, or that it was something that would now be attributed to her. She was glad Jareth didn't push "proper" decorum.

"It would be my extreme pleasure Sarah," Mariella said, and Sarah had to actually bring her eyes back to her in order to gauge if that was sarcasm. It wasn't.

"Hmph," she laughed softly to herself. "So tell me, now that we've gotten the important business out of the way, how is your family?" Mariella chuckled at Sarah's banter and began distributing smaller boxes with a much calmer manner.

"They are well. My father pulled through, thankfully. I don't believe he was ever as sick as my mother described. She worries easily, you see. He was actually very surprised to see me and berated my mother for calling me away from my post!" Sarah grinned, imagining what the exchange must have been like. It seemed heartwarming, something normal in this anything-but world.

"I see, well that's good then. I'm glad you were able to relax a little after being away for so long."

"Yes, it turned out to be a rather pleasant trip. Oh, but enough about that. I want to hear all about the things that happened while I was away. You're a married woman now!"

And to that Sarah blanched. She blinked a couple of times and quickly realized that Marie had indeed been gone since the night of her wedding. For some reason that seemed so long ago. Holy heck, what had happened indeed.

She rolled her eyes as she pondered on where to start.

"Um, well…"

"And what do we have here?"

Both Sarah and Marie jumped as Jareth appeared from out of nowhere, literally, stealthily reaching around Sarah's shoulder. She felt his grip on her waist and turned her head to glance back at him.

"Jesus, can you not?" she asked, shifting her shoulder to accommodate his presence as he intruded into the scene. She felt his grip tighten playfully.

"Oh come now, I've come to like you just a little bit on edge," he said, a creeping grin and side-eye glancing at her as he reached down to inspect the finery. He was close to her, very close. Locks of his hair flittered across her cheek. She tried to ignore how good he smelled.

"You're a jerk. Why can't you just use the door like every other person who lives here?"

"I like the way you seize up when I touch you unexpectedly."

"Har har, you're such a funny ass."

"Oh, an ass and a jerk? I must be on a roll today."

Mariella just stared in silence. She couldn't...quite believe what she was seeing exactly. Were they...playing with each other? What? Were they really just smiling? Laughing together? Exchanging curse words without reproach?! She inhaled deeply and held her breath, hoping to just fade away and continue to watch in omnipotence what was happening before her. Sarah was laughing just now. And so was Jareth. Laughing. And they were close, touching one another, WITH AFFECTION. What in the bloody hell had happened while she was gone?! The last time she saw Sarah she was on the brink of utter despair as she wandered off down the dark, clouded path of matrimony. But this...oh, she was about to burst from the seams with glee.

It was just then that the force of her gaze became tangible and poked Sarah of out the moment. Her eyes darted over and grew wide with embarrassment as the smile fell dreadfully from her face.

There was a moment of unspoken, sheer, painfully-fantastic awareness that passed between the two. Thankfully, or perhaps not, it was something Jareth failed to notice entirely, as he proceeded to divert his attentions to the pile of jewels littered before them.

"I don't recall there being such a wide array of female accessories cluttering up my library."

It took Marie a minute to catch up, the tether of she and Sarah's stare was too delightful. The poor girl didn't even realize she was still clinging to him all the while. Oh, did she read her thoughts just now? She almost laughed as Sarah's arm slowly snuck back to her side as her posture stiffened away from him.

"Forgive the mess, Your Majesty. I have just returned from my homeland with gifts from my parents, for both the king and queen, of course," she said, bowing her head to hide her grin. Sarah grew even more embarrassed.

"Ah yes, you have been away. These are some fine spoils you have. I thought your father was merely an Earl?" he asked, and this time it was Mariella's turn to look shocked. That was perhaps the first time he had spoken to her informally, with kindness, genuine goodwill even. Did he realize it was she whom he was speaking to?

"Ah...yes, he is, though I suppose a very wealthy one," she said with an uneasy chuckle. He was speaking casually to her, though had yet to make eye contact. Both she and Sarah watched as he thumbed through the collection.

"I see, be sure to extend our gratitude."

"Of-of course, Your Majesty," she said, this time glancing at Sarah and giving her a very peculiar eye. Her response was a very disturbed kind of smile. She looked like she wanted to run away.

"Anything catch your eye?" he asked, and Sarah realized he was talking to her. She leaned in and tilted her head.

"I haven't really gone through it yet. Marie was still setting it out."

"Hmm," he hummed as a hand found its way back to her hip, and she brought her own to the center of his back to steady herself -or that's what she would tell Marie at least.

"I hope it's to your liking. My family worked very hard, since the day they found out I had been re-stationed here, to amass a collection worthy of Your Majesties."

Jareth ignored her comment, but continued to search through the assortment with interest. Sarah wasn't particularly paying attention, having zoned out on the feel of his vest against her fingertips. She tuned back in however once Jareth straightened up.

"Find something?" she asked. There was a rather curious look on his face, inquisitive actually. He took her hand and held it out, and she realized he intended to put a ring on her finger. "What is-"

"There, this should do." She didn't get time to finish her question, let alone gander too deeply at the heavy ring she now wore, as he then picked up a similar ring and donned it himself. "It is a tradition among your people no?" he asked, and then her brow drew. "To wear bands signifying our pledge to one another?" Her eyes peered down at the large opal and diamond arrangement nestled around her left ring finger and realized she'd been blindsided. Her eyes darted to and from Marie nervously.

"Um, yes, but...usually one takes more care in choosing rings. It's kind of special to each couple," she explained, not in the least bit disappointed by Jareth's taste but more his timing, or rather ignorance, of the intimacy the gesture inspired. She would have rathered they be alone right now. "But...I guess it's also common for it to be spontaneous, so thank you. I...didn't think you were really aware of that aspect of my culture. It's really beautiful." She met his gaze and he smiled, and again Marie faded away -content to bite back the comment that it was in fact she who had procured the rings entirely. She couldn't wait to tell her mother. Oh, if only she had that camera contraption in reach.

Jareth's smile spread, but before he could get too caught up in those emerald eyes, he clutched her hand and kissed it.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then. I have some business to get back to," he said, peering back to give Mariella a quick indiscernible glace before walking briskly towards the door.

"See ya," Sarah said, waywardly almost, staring after him as if she'd rather be following suit. Once he was gone she turned back to Marie and the look of sweet doe-eyed panic returned. Mariella pursed her lips, then smiled wickedly. Oh yes, someone most definitely had a lot of explaining to do.

"Tell. Me. Everything."

---

Roldan glanced back at the sound of a door opening and closing, setting down the two crystal tumblers in hand.

"Where'd you disappear to?" he asked, peering down as he poured himself a drink.

"An errand," Jareth replied, meeting him across the room, extending a hand as Roldan offered him a glass.

"Hmph." Roldan huffed into his glass, his eyes cast down, but whether or not they were rolling with disapproval went unnoticed. "You left in the middle of our game. I thought perhaps you were irritated with how poorly you're losing," he continued, sardonically. It wasn't exactly odd for Jareth to spontaneously vanish; it no longer phased him at this point. Jareth grinned and took a swig, his brow twitching in response.

"Brandy?" he asked, a bit caught off guard by Roldan's choice. They both meandered back to the billiards table. Roldan held up his glass and looked at it dismissively.

"Yes...An Aboveground brew. It just came in. I figured you'd appreciate." There was a slight bite on the end of his sentence, betraying the air of mild annoyance he'd been haphazardly trying to conceal all week. Jareth ignored it, though his gaze sharpened just a bit.

"I believe it's your move then," he said, downing the last swig of his glass and setting it on the edge of the table. Roldan, having yet to meet his gaze directly, picked up his cue and took aim.

It'd been like this for several days, ever since Jareth had returned from the south. Sarah had told him of the confrontation they'd had, though he originally had no intention of intervening. With that said, Roldan's disposition had been even more sour than usual, his gaze always lowered and cast away as if he was still cursing the matter. Jareth had found himself quite bored with it and was now growing irritated. As far as he knew, he and Sarah had yet to speak, or even come across one another since their fight. She admitted she was avoiding him, and for some reason this bothered Jareth. She shouldn't be wasting her energy worrying about him. He'd been through that one time too many. And so being here now, after reaching out to try and lift Roldan's spirits in a manner much unlike himself, he found his tolerance for such paltry matters worn thin.

Jareth sighed heavily. Did he really have to parent these two like a couple of petulant children?

The sound of the billiard balls crashing stirred him from his thoughts. Roldan stepped away for Jareth to take his turn. He leaned over the table, pretending to focus on his shot.

"So. Roldan," he said, thrusting the cue sharply at its mark. "You've seemed bothered these last few days. I dare say more than usual. Care to unburden yourself? Dear friend." Roldan's hand gripped his cue, though he tried to come off as nonchalant.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, moving around to the other side of the table. Jareth watched him with an impatient smirk.

"Hm, very well then...Oh, I've just remembered, I don't believe I ever asked how your days alone with Sarah went. Manage any bonding while I was away?"

This time Roldan's jaw clenched. There was an inflection in Jareth's voice that made him feel he was being handled, and not very shrewdly.

"Afraid not," was all he said, and took his shot. Jareth's finger tapped against his glass as he pondered whether or not to just drink the whole damn flask.

"Well that's disappointing. And here I thought you'd jump at the chance to get to know my wife a little better while my back was turned." Roldan said nothing to that, but was now standing rigidly. It took all of his self control not to snap back. Jareth huffed at the sorry image and turned to refill his glass. "By the way, the nymph has just returned, and brought many spoils with her. When you see her, I imagine she'll offer quite a treat." There was no disguising the provocation in Jareth's voice now, and yet Roldan could not bring himself to retort. He did not want to have this conversation, though it seemed Jareth was fully equipped to have it all on his own.

"Is there something you'd like to say?"

Jareth peered back slightly, a bit of that trademark menace showing through.

"No."

Roldan shook his head and set down his cue.

"You obviously have a point to this. So why did you insist we play this game, Jareth?"

"Because you insist on playing me." And to that Roldan's expression changed completely.

"What?"

Jareth turned around and pointed a scolding finger at him. His expression and tone however, were kept light and breezy.

"Do you think me a fool?" he asked. Roldan looked nearly surprised and blinked in confusion.

"No. Of course not-"

"Surely you must, otherwise you would not stand there and lie to my face when I ask if something is wrong." There was an air of sarcasm, condescendence in Jareth's voice. He wasn't angry by any means, he was however impatient.

"There is nothing wrong. Not where you or the kingdom is concerned."

"And yet…" He sneered at the floor as he stepped towards the table, setting his glass down on the edge with a thud. "There is indeed something." Roldan bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't know how to respond. "Do you know where Sarah is?" Jareth asked. Roldan furrowed his brow.

"No."

"When was the last time you've seen her?"

"Not for several days."

"Ah," Jareth said, precariously pacing along the edge of the table. "So not since your indiscretion then?" He brought his gaze to Roldan's then, a bored eyebrow raised. Roldan's scowl had long since cemented. He could only imagine the rubbish she'd told him.

"Indiscretion?" Roldan repeated. "We had an argument, something that is not exactly uncommon between us."

"True enough. Only this time, it's become a problem for me too. Normally I wouldn't care in the slightest, the discourse that goes on between the two of you. But you see, my wife has taken to her rooms for several days now, anxious of bumping into you. Now why might she be avoiding you?"

"I was not aware of that."

"Because you have also been avoiding her?" He looked up to meet Roldan's stare. "I'd like to hear about your conversation."

"...It seems you've already heard plenty from her."

"It was not a request."

Jareth's stare was direct, causing Roldan to sigh and fiddle with his cue restlessly.

"She provoked me. Insulted me, and you for that matter."

"Yes well, I think it's time you two made up, don't you?"

This time Roldan rolled his eyes and side stepped around the table. Neither of them had any interest in the game, but going through the motions proved a strong enough shield for him.

"...Please don't patronize me," he said, followed by the loud crash of balls. "Your woman speaks on matters that are none of her concern."

"Enough," Jareth said, plainly with a wave of the hand. "While I don't wholly disagree with you, that woman which you refer to is also your Queen. I expect you to start treating her like it. I've put up with your attitude for days, and all you've done is treat me like some ignoramus. I will not have another wife sulking over you," he said, giving in to rub the tension from his brow. Roldan stared at him confusedly for a moment, but didn't respond. "I don't care what she said or how it made you feel. Find a way to get over it. Now."

That comment had Roldan fisting his hands, and his voice became tense with the restraint of anger.

"...She accused Aurelia of infidelity. Forgive me for becoming offended."

"I don't understand what it is with the two of you and this obsession with the past," Jareth said, impatiently setting his glass on the edge of the table. "She has been dead and gone for over five-hundred years. Is it not my right to move on?"

"Of course, Sire-"

"And thus it is not your place to dwell." He paused lest he lose composure and tapped the edge of his glass again. "I do not much enjoy seeing my wife emotionally distraught over another man, Roldan. I highly suggest you make an effort. Soon." And with that Roldan knew he'd been beat. He was allowed to squabble, but never truly argue with Jareth. It was simply the nature of their stations. He swallowed his pride and cocked his head in deference.

"I understand."

"Good," Jareth stated and slammed the rest of his drink. "Now pick up your cue, I'm done letting you win out of pity."

---

"There, I think that's the last of it."

"Yes, thank you. I always forget how much more time consuming it is to pack these things up than to lay them out."

Mariella closed the latch on her box of jewels and glanced towards the window. It was starting to get dark out, neither of them having realized how many hours they'd spent simply catching up.

"Would you like me to bring this to your room?" she asked. Sarah shook her head.

"No, don't worry about it. It's getting late and you haven't even gotten to unpack. Why don't you go relax for the rest of the night, I'll finish picking up."

"Oh, now I can't allow that!"

Sarah peered up with a raised brow.

"I'll survive. Besides, I'm meeting up with Jareth anyway…" She kept her eyes lowered on that one, already sensing the pursed grin Marie was undoubtedly giving her.

"...Of course you are." The amusement was vivid.

Just then they were interrupted by the sound of the door opening loudly. They both peered over but didn't see who had entered right away. It was a goblin, one of the couriers Sarah had grown familiar with.

"Your Majesty. Pardon me intrusion, but I have some letters for ya's," it said, bowing deeply as it presented two envelopes on fanned palms. Sarah took the letter precariously. Who would be writing to her?

"Thank you, Gamundu," she said, and again the critter bowed and scurried away. Mariella spied the top letter's seal nosely.

"Who is it from, do you think?" she asked. Sarah cocked her head.

"I have no idea. It's pressed with Jareth's seal though," she said, flipping the letter from back to front. Mariella's brow rose.

"Lord Davion!" Sarah looked to her sharply. "The wax is blue, yet the crest is His Majesty's. That must mean it is Lord Davion who has written to you." Sarah's brow drew and she looked back down to the wax seal. Oh lord, what did he want now? "Are you going to open it?" Sarah winced.

"...Eventually. I'm still kinda peeved about the stunt he pulled the last time I saw him...and I know Jareth's always worried about him pulling tricks on me…"

"True, better to be safe than sorry, even when it comes to my dear Lord Davion I am sad to say." Sarah couldn't stop the huff of laughter that escaped her then and looked up to Mariella with a look of amusement, one that was completely lost on her.

"I'll let you know if he has anything interesting to say," she said, choosing to stuff the envelope in her pocket for the time being. "Any idea who this one is from?" she asked, offering up the second letter. The seal was a pale green featuring an ornate tree with a bird caught in its roots. Marie tilted her head.

"It looks like the royal seal of Yore, but I'm not sure," she said, flipping it from front to back. Sarah rose a brow, but ultimately shrugged and took the letter to shove it in her pocket with its companion.

"Weird," she said and turned towards the luggage. "Do you want help carrying your bags?" This time it was Mariella's turn to look amused.

"Oh lords no. Unlike you, Your Majesty, I have no qualms utilizing the labors at my disposal," she said, and just like that a scurry of goblins seemed to appear from the very seams of the floorboards and started hauling away Mariella's cargo.

"Heh, I'll see you tomorrow then," she said and soon they parted ways.

Suddenly she was alone, and the room seemed far more empty than usual. The fire cracked periodically, the only other sound being her own footsteps as she finished tidying up the room. Really, she didn't have to do this. In a way she was forcing herself to, in an effort to remain normal. She didn't want to be waited on hand and foot, it was an aversion she'd only really started feeling now that she was queen. She guessed it was because it all felt more real now, no more waiting, no more what ifs. That seemed to bother her a great deal not so long ago…

She left the library quietly and headed back to her room. She wasn't sure when she'd be seeing Jareth, but they'd been spending their nights together all week and the thought of keeping him waiting caused her heart to beat just a tiny bit faster. She wanted to be with him. All the time it seemed. When the hell did that happen?

The echo of the corridor always creeped her out at night, so she was careful to take light steps. It was an effort which led to her own undoing, as an unexpectant force made the misfortune of rounding the corner just then and collided straight into her.

She stumbled back and gasped.

"Oh! Geez, you scared the crap out of me," she said reflexively, taking a moment to compose herself before looking up. She froze when she did, the embarrassed smile falling plainly from her face. "Oh...Um, sorry."

The awkwardness of Roldan's posture she was sure reflected her own. Her eyes darted this way and that.

"No I- I wasn't paying attention. Are you alright?" he asked, and she was caught off guard by the lack of pure and total animosity she had been expecting to hear in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine. These hallways need a better source of lighting, I tell you," she muttered, anxiously, scratching the back of her head like a fool as she moved to walk around him.

"I'll make a note of it."

"Okay...well...goodnight then." She strode past him quickly, never once meeting him in the eye. She was fumbling a great deal but honestly she had no idea how to act around him. She thought she was in the clear when she heard him call her name.

"Sarah- wait." She stopped on a dime and turned. He was staring straight at her, but his expression was hard to discern in the diminished light. He took a few steps towards her until they were close once more. She stared at him wide-eyed and wordless, a torch conveniently overhead now illuminated the both of them. He opened his mouth to speak, but there was hesitation. "I...I've been meaning to see you," he said, with a tone very much unaccustomed to him. It made her frown.

"About what?" she asked, expecting to be reprimanded again. His eyes lowered, deep and darkened by shadows, reflected the flame of the torch sharply.

"...I'm sorry -for the way I behaved last we spoke. My temper was...uncalled for and...certainly out of line." Sarah's eyes widened at the admission, for it seemed one not wholly his own. She suspected Jareth might have had something to do with this, but even still, there was an honesty laid bare in his expression that she'd come to recognize.

"Roldan...you have nothing to apologize for," she said, and he looked up with a bit of surprise. "I deserved every bit of the reaction you gave me. I know I said this already, but I've actually been wanting to apologize again. I pushed too hard into a matter that I didn't realize was so deeply personal to you. You have every right to be upset by the assumptions I made. I honestly can't fully imagine what it is that you feel." He did not respond to her. It looked as if he was biting his lip, to keep the words smothered. He swallowed, his scowl becoming more intense, though she wondered what exactly about her words had affected him so. She stared at him deeply, inspected every nuance of his face. He looked like a broken soul, a man in such pain. The guilt she felt knowing it was she who had wretched open such long buried scars had her feeling miserable. He was always so angry, so hard on the people around him. Was it because of this pain? Did he have no other way to express it?

She started to realize it then, the reason why he could not look her in the eye, why he looked so unbelievably ruined right now.

"Roldan," she said, gently, asking for his gaze. He blinked slowly and looked up. His eyes met hers but were ill-guarded when her hands were suddenly cupping his face. She was going out on a limb here...God she hoped she was right. "It makes sense that the world was there to comfort Jareth, to offer their condolences and share in his sorrow. To place a hand on his shoulder and say they were sorry for his loss. She was his wife after all. But…" and her voice trailed off, her hands fell from his face and she took a step closer to him. "What about your loss? Who was there to comfort you?" She was staring at the floor between them, a deep frown marring her brow. "How many years have you spent in silent mourning? For how many centuries have you been alone with this pain, unable to say anything? No one stood by you. No one saw you suffer. And if they did, no one cared, not even Jareth...for that...I am so sorry."

She closed her eyes and, before he could protest, wrapped her arms tightly around him. It was only after Jareth had shared his side of the story that her true perspective was gained. Jareth might have said that he didn't care, or wasn't jealous, but his actions spoke otherwise. He'd outright punished his friend; for five-hundred years he'd left him wallowing in torment and guilt, allowing him no closure, no comfort. No wonder he hated everything. No wonder he resented her. She knew it was not her place to reveal the truth Jareth had trusted her with, but this...this was the least she could do.

Roldan stood completely still as Sarah embraced him with all her might. He was speechless, the words he might have said left choked and stumbling in his throat. He wanted to push her away, to throw her clean off of him. If Jareth saw them like this- if he even found out- And yet he remained rigid. He felt her hands splay further as she tightened her grip, her face nuzzled into his chest, and he could only imagine it was because she too was ashamed. The things she'd said, it was as if they'd pierced his very being. He stared straight ahead, unblinking, his vision starting to blur.

Sarah wasn't sure what to do next. He was dead quiet, hadn't moved a single muscle. She began to feel even more sad then. What else could she do? Was she only making him more upset? She closed her eyes, content to stand there all night if that's what it took. Had she interpreted him correctly, or was this all a huge mistake?

"I see you Roldan. And I am deeply sorry...for your loss."

He was still silent, but she felt a thump in his chest and his heartbeat start to quicken. She could feel it against her temple, that and his chest rise as he took in a labored breath.

She was right. He'd never realized it, nor how much it had mattered. Indeed no one had ever looked his way. Know one knew, nor cared to even ask, the way he felt. It was after all, not his place to feel anything. It had not mattered. It had not mattered. So why...why of all times and in all places, did this one girl's touch render him so helpless?

He felt his arms rising slowly, wrapping around her, and holding on just as tightly.

He could not help the heavy rise and fall of his chest, and lowered his head, nuzzling his nose into her hair, and exhaled deeply. He felt outside of himself. He felt the warmth of her small frame, the strength of her delicate limbs, the power that she held over him. And though he might hate himself in but only a moment or two, he gave in to it. He closed his eyes and held her. His fingers sifted through her hair as they curled into fists. Was this peace he was feeling? Was this the comfort that she claimed he lacked? He was not sure of anything but the smell of her hair and the calming emptiness growing inside him.

Sarah could feel the anguish moving through him in a steady subtle shudder, and it nearly brought a tear to her own eye. This man, this poor man, someone whom she hated and fought and defied, this man whom she thought she would never share a kind word with, was now holding onto her for dear life. How could Jareth do this...how could he hold so much resentment? She wanted to tell him, to tell him that Aurelia had loved him after all, that it wasn't for nothing, that he wasn't alone. She wanted to tell him it was okay to move on, that he betrayed no one and had punished himself long enough. This man she hardly knew...this man who detested everything she was.

She wondered what he was thinking of, if she herself occupied any of his thoughts at all. Did they share the same quandary? Or was he equally lost? She did not get an answer to these questions, as soon the impulse of the moment withered and each withdrew from the other. She could feel an awkwardness creeping in, but still stood back and looked him square in the eye.

"I know...it's probably impossible to start over. But...I mean it when I say I want us to be friends. I'll stop...giving you such a hard time...all the time." Her eyes lowered to the side. He hadn't said anything in quite a while and she had no idea what he was thinking. She found her hands knotting nervously behind her.

Roldan continued to stare at her, vacantly for a moment. And then the haze seemed to clear and if she had the courage to look up at him, she'd have seen him smiling.

"Hmph, but then you would not be you." She darted her head up to find his expression wayward and warm. She opened her mouth to speak, but caught herself when he looked to the floor and reached up to straighten the lapels of his jacket. "But I agree...it would be nice...to try." He brought his gaze back to her and she cracked a faint grin in return. He didn't look so angry anymore. He looked...relieved. Her gaze softened and her smile became more genuine.

"Okay...Goodnight Roldan," she said, hugging her sides in contentment as she turned away from him.

"Goodnight" she heard him say, and in a much softer voice, lowered his gaze to the floor and whispered. "...Sarah."

---

When Sarah entered her room she hadn't expected it to be filled with awkwardness. She was alone, although the fire had already been lit. She'd been feeling somewhat gleeful on the walk back, admittedly caught up in the intimate moment she and Roldan had shared, but now awareness was getting caught up with her and she wondered whether or not this was something she needed to disclose to Jareth.

Her gaze gradually fell to the floor as a hand rifled through the letters in her pocket, and she stepped further into the room.

"You look bothered."

Sarah glanced over with surprise. She'd mindlessly wandered towards the fire and was now greeted by the presence of Jareth lounging on the couch beside her. His expression was ernest enough, as it had been often lately, which allowed some of the worry to leave her.

"Not really. Have you been here long?" She moved to sit on the other end of the couch beside his feet. Her eyes caught on the black leather of his boots as they glinted against the fire. Jareth eased back and recrossed his ankles.

"I suppose...I enjoy waiting for you. Your room seems...more welcoming than mine," he said, a comment so candid that Sarah found it to be very sad. She almost suggested then that they share rooms -that's what most married couples did in the Aboveground anyway- but decided against it. She appreciated having his and her own space. It was a lot to deal with each other sometimes.

"Probably because my room has better lighting," she said, jokingly, then glanced down at him with a weak smirk. "Your room is always so gloomy." He grinned and reclined his arms behind his head.

"Truly my own microcosm," he said, and they both huffed. But the laughter was empty and, to Sarah, was followed by a silence perturbed. She wasn't sure what to say next. "So, what's in your pocket?" he asked, merely to break the silence. She had a dour look on her face and he wondered if that may be the reason. Sarah blinked dumbly then pulled out the envelopes she was still fondling.

"I got some mail...I thought maybe we should look at it together," she said. Jareth sat up and moved closer to her.

"Alright...though you do not need my supervision," he reminded. Sarah shrugged and handed him one of the envelopes.

"I know you said they're screened before getting to me, but it still makes me nervous. Mariella says this one is from Davion." Jareth took the paper from her with a terse look on his face. Apparently their feelings on the subject were mutual. "Is it okay?" she asked. Jareth flipped it back and forth and then shrugged.

"I imagine, if it made its way to you," he said, passively. "You could simply burn it."

"I think not, thank you," she said snarkily, which earned a quick smirk from Jareth as he then tore the letter open. She waited for him to read it but there was a bit of a pause, so she looked up.

"Were you expecting a boom?"

"Huh?"

Sarah blinked, realizing she'd been making a somewhat apprehensive expression. He was already staring at her, his eyes laughing. She fought off a glare but couldn't help snatching back the letter from him petulantly and he smiled wider. She was cute when she was timid. He liked the trust in him such reactions implied.

"It's safe," he added, "As suspected, my carefully crafted safety protocols are in fact reliable." He spoke plainly with only a faint hint of sarcasm. Just enough to get her flustered.

"Sorry...I guess I'm just still surprised you don't flag my mail. Especially that from Davion."

"Why? Plotting a coup?"

"No. It's just...I don't know. Nevermind." He was teasing, but the way she'd started shaking her head and scowling as she inspected the letter for herself made him realize it may actually be bothering her.

"Would you feel safer if I did?" She glanced up at that, as if caught off guard, so he continued. "You keep saying you're surprised, which either means you think I shouldn't trust you or you think you are in danger. While I'd rather neither be the case, if you want me to make a presumption, I'd like to presume the latter." She didn't really have anything to say to that. He kind of hit the nail on the head there with that one. "I can only hope my trust in you is warranted, as you have it implicitly. As you may have realized, I value a certain degree of privacy and I'd like to make sure you are afforded the same. You are not a prisoner, and as such I don't feel the need to personally approve, or disprove, your private correspondence. And as for you being in danger..." he started, then trailed off when he broke eye-contact to gaze at the fire. "I am very protective of you, yes, and not without reason. But I'd like for you to trust my efforts all the same. I do go through great pains after all...to provide you with, at the very least, a sense of security."

Huh...She felt kind of bad now. She hadn't meant to insult him or question his abilities let alone his intentions. She found herself on the brink of apologizing when he leaned back against the couch and brought his hands behind his head.

"I thought you would prefer my nose kept clear of your personal thoughts and conversations...but alas, I will go out of my way to open every single one of your parcels, by hand, in full view of your own self, from now until eternity, if that is your wish." He rolled his head towards her with a grin as he finished his sentence, which brought some ease to an otherwise, albeit subtle, guilt-trip. "I'll even provide dramatic dictation, provided I'm not preoccupied with, you know, ruling a kingdom and all that."

"Hmph, you make it sound below your paygrade or something," she replied, teasingly, which earned her another smirk. He looked away and she relaxed a little, fearful she was being too awkward. She felt off her game. Was this Roldan issue really bothering her that much?

"Yes, actually. Hence the magical screenings," Jareth said, cocking a brow. "But that is beside the point. I want you to feel safe."

"Yeah...I know. And I do...with you, which I guess is why I wanted you to be here when I opened them." She saw the corner of his mouth twitch just then, and she figured that slight bolster of ego was what he needed. She looked down and grinned a little. When the hell did she get so bashful?

"So, what does my brother want now? I can only imagine-" he asked, pulling Sarah from her brief musing. Her eyes focused on the letter in her hands, and she read aloud,

"My dearest sister,

I hope this message makes its journey to you unhindered, unburnt, trampled or torn. I fear my company, written or corporeal, may still not be very welcome after our last encounter. -Yeah, no kidding- Apologies, once again. -Oh, well gee, thanks- In case you have forgotten, when last we spoke I offered what I'm sure will be a much needed retreat from the burden that is being my brother's wife. As you are now married and have no doubtedly settled into your circumstance, I'd like to extend the invitation formally to you now. I look forward to hearing from you, and seeing you even more so. The north is a truly remarkable place with a very distinct culture I think you'll find a bit refreshing after the rather coarse acquaintance the capital has presented you with these last few months.

Please respond. It gets so very lonely up here.

As always, with love,

Davion"

Sarah stared kind of blankly at the paper, her expression looking even more bored than Jareth's had. She blinked slowly, then looked up to Jareth.

"Well, can definitely tell you're related," she said, deadpan. Jareth rose his brow as if surprised she would say such a thing and leaned in closer. She sighed and set the paper down. Did she really want to see Davion again so soon? She could practically feel the insincerity crawling out of his words and onto her skin. At least he was easier to read than Jareth.

"Was that meant to be an insult?" Jareth asked and she chuckled.

"I honestly don't know. You are each the definition of cavalier."

"Ah, so a compliment."

Sarah smiled wider and laughed. He was grinning too, and she leaned in to rest under his shoulder. "Yes, exactly," she said, and tossed the letter off to the side.

"So?"

"So, what?" She peered up when he peered down.

"Are you going to accept his invitation?" Sarah's stare became dubious while his remained unchanged.

Oh. He was genuinely asking her? She wasn't expecting that. Not at all.

"Are you serious? Um...I don't know." she half-asked, like it was a test. Jareth just stared at her.

"May I throw it into the fire now?"

"No. I...are you implying that I can actually go? You don't seem very surprised by this," she asked, incredulously. Jareth snatched the letter from the couch cushion and scanned it over himself.

"There are only so many things Davion would write to you in a letter. Him wanting to seclude you alone in the confines of his melting hot-house is on the short list."

"And...you're giving me the option to accept?"

"No." Jareth stopped reading and set the paper down to look at her. "No, I'm not giving you anything. I'd rather you and he never be within a thousand miles of one another. But, the invitation was extended to you, and only you, and as a queen you have the right to accept or decline." She was looking up at him all doe-eyed and confused, so he rolled his own and continued. "It is not my place to forbid you anything anymore, Sarah ...Within my power, at least. If you want to go, then you will go." And now she furrowed her brow, something which he didn't quite like. Having to explain basic freedoms only reminded him that he was the one who had torn those expectations from her in the first place. He was not however, prepared in the slightest for what she said next.

"You could...physically stop me." Under different circumstances that look at that angle with those words might have gotten him hard, but at this moment he found it concerning. Is that what she expected of him? To parent her like a hapless child? He supposed it was his own fault. He had conditioned her quite roughly after all...

"Is that what you want?" he asked.

"No…" though she didn't sound convinced. Jareth was getting confused. It was almost like she wanted him to tell her no. Hm, maybe she did.

"Was this what you were expecting the burden of marriage to be? Censure and constraint?" He wasn't angry or offended, but genuinely asking. He wanted to empower her now as his queen, but maybe that was the problem. He'd only ever thought of empowering her once she became his. She hesitated before answering and he looked away with a sigh. The direction this conversation was heading in was not a good one and he wanted to veer out of it quickly. "Do you want to go?" he asked, peering down at her without judgement. Sarah pursed her lips and shifted in her spot under his arm.

"I...don't really want to be within a thousand miles of Davion either right now, but...I guess I'll have to see him eventually. And...I think it would be a good opportunity to see more of the kingdom. I want to see more. And from what I've read about Fort Fyrn, it seems like a really beautiful place."

"Alright then. Was that so hard?" He was mocking her again, but was honestly relieved. Newfound guilt had been seeping into his conscience more and more recently, and he was thankful to have successfully diverted it this time. As if he didn't regret their shared past enough already.

"Are you sure you're okay with me going by myself though?" he heard her ask and huffed impulsively.

"By yourself? Is that what you think we were discussing?" he asked, incredulously. "No. Absolutely not. The invitation may have been addressed to you but I can still see that you are accompanied at all times. There's no way in your Aboveground Hell I'd let you set foot outside of this city without me let alone trek halfway across the country to take salt baths with my brother."

Ah, and there he was. Sarah was beginning to wonder when her good ol' over-protective, aggressively-domineering fae overlord would return. Ironically it made her happy, to feel as important as he blatantly and frequently claimed her to be. She was distracted in these thoughts when he called her attention again.

"Sarah-" and she looked up. "I feel I need to explain something...I understand I've made a certain impression with you earlier, but I told you things would be different between us once we were married. Perhaps you thought that meant more shackles, but truthfully the only intention I have in holding your hand is if you offer it to me first. You're not only allowed, but expected to manage your own life. I will only physically intervene, as you put it, in instances that I believe are a danger to you. Do you understand?" He was speaking to her sternly but with warmth, and the hand at her shoulder was squeezing gently. Actually no, she did not understand. She was used to being kept square under his thumb and now it seemed he was casting her to the wind. She guessed his trust really was implicit, which had her wondering if their relationship really had come so far. Why did it seem she was the only one feeling this uncertainty?

And yet his arm around her was warm. His eyes, attentive and compassionate, brought her ease. His smell, and his touch, and his heat made her feel safe. She wanted to be closer to him, and did not want to be anywhere else. She was loving him all on her own. It would be stupid to question that feeling after the price she'd paid to finally have it.

"Yes. I understand."

She gave in to rest her head against him, reveling in the tenderness of his hold. The fire crackled and popped and steadily lulled her worries. His breath rose and fell subtly, his heartbeat faint through the thick velvet of his vest. He was calm, just as she, and she wondered what price she would have to pay to keep this moment forever.

"So, what's this second letter then?"

She hadn't realized it, but he'd reached down and taken hold of the other envelope. She turned her head a little to watch, and shrugged.

"I have no idea. Mariella seemed confused as well," she said, her eyes landing on the thick seafoam-green wax seal. "She said it looks similar to Braxton's," she added.

"It is. A variant anyway. One I've never seen before."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's from a member of Braxton's family I have never had correspondence with," he explained, then tore open the letter.

"Oh. Well that's awfully mysterious. Why would anyone be writing to me?"

"Open it and see," Jareth said, withdrawing the paper inside and handing it to her. Sarah shifted to lay her head in his lap and held the paper out in front of her face between them.

Her Lady and Majesty, Queen Sarah,

Greetings, dear sister. May I first offer you my deepest and most heartfelt congratulations on your marriage. It is a true spectacle, marriage to an Orpian king. I must also promptly apologize for my absence during your presentation ball. You see, I have been confined of late and was thus unable to share with you in the joyous festivity. You are by now undoubtedly wondering who I am, and so again I must ask forgiveness for my abrupt intrusion into your day. I was, quite frankly, very excited to write to you.

I feel you and I may have much to talk about, and as this is a place where conversation quickly becomes stale and rehearsed, I would very, very much like the chance to speak with you. I would like to cordially invite you to tea at my palace. I am, unfortunately, unable to travel at this moment, so I beg you not think me rude. Please write to me at any time, at your convenience and your wish. In the meantime, I wish you all the best.

Sincerely,

Delphine

"It's from Queen Delphine," Sarah said, after combing through the letter once more. She pondered a moment, trying to figure out why she of all people would be so eager to meet her, as well as the nagging feeling there was something important she was supposed to be remembering.

"What does she want?" Jareth asked, not sounding the least bit surprised this random woman would write to her.

"She invited me to her castle for tea. Is that normal?" she asked.

"I told you, you would start receiving invitations once we were married. You're part of court life now."

"Hm…" she hummed, certain she was missing something. "Delphine...I feel like there was something I was supposed to remember about her," she muttered, scouring through her written words as if the answer were lurking somewhere in the ink. Jareth was oddly quiet, which was always a clue in and of itself. "Do you know?" she asked, shifting the paper to peek up at him from behind it.

"You shouldn't need to ask. This was entirely why I forced Roldan to play governess," he said, to which she pursed her lips. Yeah, the infamous lessons. Right. She was about to admit she only crammed the needed knowledge to pass his tests and questioned how much of it she'd actually retained, but stopped herself. Knowing him he'd take it upon himself to enroll her in a refresher course first thing in the morning.

"Well, to be fair, he didn't do a very good job," she said, half-jokingly. Jareth didn't seem to find her comment funny, so she put her thinking cap on and went to work. "Okay. So, Delphine. Braxton's wife. Wait, doesn't he have two wives? And Delphine is…..the second. Yes. The second. She wasn't at the engagement party. Huh, come to think of it, I don't think his other wife was either, was she?" Not realizing that question was not rhetorical, Sarah shot him an eye to provoke a response.

"No. Neither of them were."

"Hm...curious. Delphine. That's an Aboveground name, isn't it? French, I think. Oh. OH." Jareth's expression became entirely bored watching as all the little switches flicked on in her brain. She cast down the letter and beamed up at him. "She's a human. Another Bride of Conquest. Like me." She sat up as that last thought dawned on her and moved off of Jareth's lap.

"One would think you of all people would have placed more importance on that bit of information," he said, sarcastically. Sarah scoffed but otherwise ignored him.

"Well, I guess I know why she wants to meet me. Do you know why she wasn't at the party?" Jareth ran a hand through his hair as he thought.

"She was busy birthing a child, I believe."

"What? Really?" Sarah's eyes widened a bit with surprise, though why she felt it she wasn't sure.

"Yes. His first son was born, really an auspicious night all around," he said, raising his brow at the memory. Sarah huffed at how quickly his mind found its way to the gutter and turned her attention back to the letter.

"So why was Queen Anathaea not there either?" she asked, hoping to earn back some brownie points with that casual name drop. If it worked, Jareth gave no tells.

"Probably because she was helping with the birth. I suppose you'll find out for sure if you decide to meet with her," he said.

"Hm...Am I to assume you'll be escorting me there, as well?" She looked up and they locked gazes, which was reply enough for her. "Okay. I'd like to meet with her...if you don't think it's too soon. I don't want to mess up and embarrass the kingdom," she continued.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. Your meeting is with Delphine, so I'm sure you'll get away with more of your...candid impulses." She smirked at his failure to find a phrase that would adequately cover the insult, but took no offense nonetheless. He was right; Delphine was from the Aboveground, which meant they might have an understanding she was simply unable to establish with literally anyone else in this dimension. She was getting excited just thinking about it. She wanted to dash off and practice writing her reply-

"Thanks for the vote of confidence but...I think it might be better to refresh myself with formal fae etiquette. It's kind of been the furthest thing from my mind lately," she said, which seemed a satisfying answer to Jareth. It showed she was taking things seriously, as she herself wanted to be.

"Alright. I'll have Roldan prep you throughout the week," he said, something which sent an almost-forgotten-prickle through Sarah's nerves. Damn. She'd backed herself into a corner there, hadn't she?

"Ah, speaking of Roldan…" she started, turning towards him with what registered to Jareth as more serious posture. "I...kind of bumped into him a little while ago," she said, feeling the need to just get it over with. It wasn't so much she felt guilty about what happened, or that her actions were inappropriate, she just simply couldn't keep it from him. She didn't want to. The idea of keeping a secret from Jareth, no matter what it was, felt absolutely terrifying -she'd have to revisit the inherent psychological warning presented in that later. She was glancing at the fire now, but the oddly cool tone of his "oh?" had her peering back at him with a mock grin. "Yes. I take it you do not find this news at all surprising?" she asked, sarcastically. Jareth shrugged.

"I find it ahead of schedule, if it helps." Sarah shook her head. "You're smiling though, so I assume things went well?" he added. She cocked a brow.

"Yeah...yes, actually. I feel like we finally connected," she said, nodding to herself and then glancing into her lap. She could literally feel the inquisition of his stare on her. She glanced over to find his expression slightly on guard and expectant that she elaborate more. "He apologized," she conceded, knowing that's probably all he really wanted to know. "I also apologized. And I gave him a hug." She wasn't quite sure what reaction to expect from him, and kept her lips pursed in anticipation. His brows rose a bit in a look of disbelief and he began to sit up and face her.

"A hug?" he repeated, as if the word itself was ridiculous. Sarah knotted her fingers a bit.

"Yes. He looked like he needed it."

"And did he?"

He was sitting close to her now, an arm not-so-casually strewn along the back of the couch behind her. Whereas before the gesture felt welcoming and safe, this one now felt like a snare. His cool air was gone, replaced by that telltale prowl. She knew he was trying to intimidate her into giving something away, but wasn't about to fall for it.

"Yes. And I think I did too. A simple intimate act between friends. I feel we understand each other a lot better now and can actually move forward without constantly backpedaling. I imagine you can empathize a bit with that as well." She spoke assuredly, which seemed enough to sate him. He huffed in reaction to her ending comment.

"So you're friends now?" he asked, his tone mocking that word as well. Sarah couldn't hold back the smile.

"I hope so. Why, is that bad?" she asked him playfully. Jareth's eyes narrowed, but it was the creeping grin that betrayed him.

"I suppose not. Just don't fuck him. I'm finding myself growing increasingly possessive by the day," he said, lightheartedly, though she was sure there was a trace element of warning in there. Her eyes flickered down.

"Are you sure it wouldn't be me falling for him that would really bother you?" she asked, her tone coy. She was fishing a little, though made no attempt to hide it. Jareth's gaze became sharper for just a moment.

"Yes...that would also be inconvenient," he said and angled his head down towards her a bit. "I'll just have to find some way of keeping your focus."

"Not favor?"

She was teasing him now, he could tell by the way her eyes flickered up to meet his and the ghost of a smile that tugged the corners of her mouth. He was leaning into her, his free arm grasping the couch cushion by her hip, caging her in, and the paper of her letters, now long forgotten, crumpled under hand.

The intensity in his eyes had a fire sparking in her belly. Jareth saw this and his own grin became genuine. He cocked a brow and raked his eyes over her. "Will I ever win your favor?" he asked, glancing down to watch as his hand lazily pressed the skirt of her dress up her thigh. "I wonder…" She stiffened a bit once it was exposed, her feet shifting on the floor. He peered back up to find her sucking in a breath and lightly biting her lip. "You're hopeless," he said, knowing just from the look in her eye and new tension in her posture that Roldan or threats thereof were already the furthest things from her mind.

She held his gaze, keen to challenge that haughty ego of his.

"Rest assured, there will be no fuckery of any kind, for reasons more than one -least important being I have a very particular type which I fear cannot be deviated from," she said, surreptitiously shifting her legs so they parted as she turned to face him head on.

"I suppose that makes me lucky then," he replied, leaning in as if to kiss her neck. She pulled away shrewdly and threw him an eye.

"Who said that type is you?" she asked, with amusement, and pressed the tips of her fingers against his chest as if to push him away. Jareth turned his head just slightly, enough for his lips to brush the delicate hair covering her neck which sent a shiver down her spine.

"Well, if our past experience is any indication, I am truly terrified for the fate of the man to whom you are attracted to," he said, and she smiled as he kissed her neck. Her hand went to his arm, grasping his bicep tightly as she swallowed. What was terrifying was how easy it had become for him to seduce her lately. It seemed her desire to jump his bones had become a constant need, and she gave in almost instantly. She loved when he was playful like this, that he could be playful like this. It seemed surreal at times. When before she felt prickling awareness, she now felt comfort and ease in his company. She wanted to feel him, to smell him and taste him at her leisure, and he'd made damn well sure to be available for any inclination. It was something she couldn't accurately recount to Mariella, how far they'd come after the disaster that was their wedding. She hoped it would last.

"Jareth-" she said, her voice suddenly breathless and needy, and turned her head toward him with eyes downward cast, her lashes thick and fluttering against his temple. He pulled back just enough to look at her, stray strands of their hair tangling with one another. His eyes, quickly becoming as laden as hers, fell down the length of her face as a hand rose to grasp the back of her neck tightly.

"Hm," he hummed, pensive. "I think you were right." His gaze rose from her parted lips back to her eyes, wilting and impatient. "Jealousy is going to be a problem for me," he said, and sealed his mouth over hers.

His lips were warm, his hold on her neck tender but possessive, and he angled her this way and that as the kiss bore deeper. She closed her eyes, nearly falling slack for a moment, as her hands rose greedily into his hair. Her back arched, her body rising by her knees as she pressed into him. She felt no hesitation and panted between kisses.

The hand once supporting himself moved to her back and held her close, allowing her to straddle him effortlessly as he leaned back against the couch. He loved how brazen she'd become, loved how she no longer made any effort to hide how badly she wanted him nor showed any embarrassment for her sensuality. She'd turned him into a desperate man, a man who would cling to her and serve her like none before. And he wanted to. He couldn't believe how much he wanted to.

Her hands gripped the collar of his shirt and began removing the bands of his cravat with only newly acquired precision, while his clawed, widely splayed up under her skirt. Her thighs and ass flexed as she leaned up to toss away the garment and he held her there, tearing his mouth away from hers to bite and suck down into her bosom, which heaved into him with exaggerated breaths. She grasped his head close to her and dropped a shoulder at the feel of his hand yanking down the sleeve of her dress, then moved to hold her at the ribs, pushing up her breasts as he kissed at the swollen flesh.

God she wanted to fuck him. And she dreaded the day if ever it came when she wanted to no longer. Maybe he was right when he'd said they were chemically compatible, that their pheromones melded in a way that made them suitable mates. Would that mean the attraction would never fade, regardless of emotion? This train of thought made her distracted, but she was called back to attention when she heard him moan. His fingers constricted around her and he inhaled deeply into her cleavage as his shoulders both tensed and went lax all at once, and she realized she must have let some of her pheromones through. For a moment she wasn't sure what to do, how to stop or how to continue, and simply stared down at him as he lost himself in her. It was truly a visceral transformation. Just like before, everything about him shifted from command and control to a near primal wantonness. Just watching him turned her on, and she imagined that was a good thing, as he took another deep breath and began clawing at the bodice of her dress.

Jareth's mouth moved back up her neck, biting without care as he reached for the neckline of her dress. Sarah lurched away, as the bites were just a bit too rough, but he couldn't help it. His eyes were nearly closed, lids heavy with the intoxication that was her smell. He yanked at her bodice and she gasped, but it wouldn't budge and he realized he needed to reign himself in lest he tear it and her to pieces. He took another deep breath and yanked her forward, pressing his forehead flat against hers.

"You should warn me before doing that," he said, his voice breathy and harsh. Sarah's eyes were still wide with arousal. She responded by reaching down and stroking him through his pants. He grunted and screwed his eyes shut.

"Do you like it?" she asked, sensually, her hand moving firmly and rhythmically. She could feel him harden and lengthen when he moaned again. His hands held her by the arms, instinctively pleading for mercy. She had no idea how this affected him, how unbidden he became. Nevertheless, she reveled in it, her sexy little smile taunting him with each stroke.

"You do," he said, his grip tightening on her but doing nothing else as she began to undo the restraint on his pants. He felt her soft delicate hand wrap around him and squeeze, jerking him from root to tip. With his breath now labored, he peered up to find her practically salivating.

"I like watching you fall apart in my hands," she said, freeing him from his trousers and pumping him further. He groaned, leaning his head back and she nipped at his chin.

"You're cruel. I'm supposed to be ravishing you," he argued, near ignorant of her kisses moving down his throat. He felt helpless like this, half-drunk and caught off guard by the force of her impulses.

"Hmm…" she hummed, and before he'd even realized it she'd moved to kneel on the floor and wrapped her hot mouth around the head of his erection. A jolt of precum spurt onto her tongue and he gasped sharply. Sarah stared up at him hungrily then sucked him in deeper. His head was cast back against the couch but his hips thrust into her and a hand shot into her hair. Noticing the indecision in his grasp, she sucked harder, took total control as she pumped him from the base. He moaned again and rolled his hips, then looked down to meet her gaze.

Jareth's chest rose and fell heavily, caught between the desire to fuck her mouth or toss her over the back of the couch and fuck her everywhere. It seemed he had no choice however, as each suck and flutter of lashes was quickly driving him to climax. She was through teasing him, a clear sense of mission now hardened her stare. Ugh, she loved this. He knew she did. She loved seeing him weak for her and in truth it turned him on as well. He reached down with both hands and held her head, pushing her mouth down on him faster and deeper. She winced but found a way to accommodate him and the pleasure bloomed even hotter. She was making muffled noises as she took him, saliva thick and hot coating him with each undulation.

"Fuck," Jareth bit out, clenching his jaw as he felt the pull of climax hit him. Sarah felt him harden against her tongue and couldn't resist. He could fuck her for hours and hours but had never lasted more than ten minutes once she got her mouth on him. It was empowering. She wanted him, all of him. She wanted him hot and wet and begging. She closed her eyes and went to work, determined now to have her way. "Sarah, damnit-" And oh how he hated it. He hated being unable to help himself. She grinned wickedly as she felt movement course through him, a tense shudder, and swallowed down every bit of cum he shot at the back of her throat. He moaned loudly, gripped her scalp fiercely, and thrust her head down on him so she engulfed him completely. She relaxed her throat but continued to suck, milking him for all he had. After an agonizing moment he started to relax, though his erection only went half-soft. She started to pull away from him and was surprised when his hand pushed her back down. "Don't you dare stop," he ordered, glaring down at her. "Suck me until I'm hard again." There was a carnality in his eyes that had her growing hot all over again, and a pseudo sense of anger about him that promised he was about to have his own wicked way with her.

She started sucking on him again, aggressively, closing her eyes and breathing deep through her nose. She felt his hand moving in her hair, but his hold had become weak as he let her move on her own. It wasn't long before he grew hard again, lengthening in her mouth with each pull. She placed her hands on his thighs to hold herself up when he started thrusting again, though it wasn't but a moment later that she felt herself being hauled up into his lap.

He kissed her. Messily. His tongue bore deep into her mouth as if he were trying to taste the traces of orgasm on her. His hands gripped her jaw, thumbs pressed up into her cheeks and she gasped for breath as saliva spread between their faces. He pulled away to focus on properly removing her bodice and she took the moment to wipe at her face.

Her dress that day was peach colored, a heavier cotton material (as it had been somewhat cooler that day), the entrance to which being a series of large wooden buttons falling down the front. She shrugged out of the shoulders as Jareth worked past her navel, then reached down to continue jerking him off. His eyes closed briefly as he twitched, then he shook his head with a smile.

"Afraid it was going somewhere?" he asked, carefully taking the time to undo each button in proper succession rather than just tearing the thing in two. If she was feeling impatient he was going to drag this out as long as possible.

"Just making sure you don't forget about me," she said, and angled herself to press him into the opening of her sex. Jareth smiled and held her up.

"Ah-ah, not yet," he teased, leaning in to kiss her collarbone and then ran his tongue over the round of her breast.

"Says the man who already had an orgasm."

He smiled at that and, when the last button was undone, tossed her dress away and to the floor. His hands found her hips, his thumbs curling under the stretchy lace of her underwear. He kissed her neck once more, then pulled back to look at her.

His brow drew a little as his eyes rose and fell.

"Did your breasts get bigger?" he asked, in the most mood-shattering manner possible. Sarah paused and looked down. She was wearing a lavender colored lace bustier, the closest thing to a corset she would allow herself to wear, and would admit it gave the gals a pretty good boost. Not that she needed it, as her bosom was already well-endowed to begin with. His comment however had her feeling suddenly self conscious and she pulled back to look over herself.

"Um, I don't think so...why?" she asked, peering up to him to find his expression flagrantly impressed. He reached up and fondled them like he'd never before done so and then moved on to firmly trace the contour of her waist.

"You're keeping this on," he said, and it wasn't a request. It was perhaps in that moment that Sarah realized Jareth may have a preference for large breasts. She almost laughed, then arched her back so they were shoved up in his face.

"As you wish," she said, seductively. Jareth hummed praise into her cleavage.

"Hmm, say that again." This time she ran her hands down his chest and leaned down, pushing her ass up into the air -something Jareth's hands were quick to take advantage of.

"No," she teased, lightly running her tongue along his lips but pulling just out of reach whenever he tried to kiss her. Her fingers began to work on the buttons of his vest, taking the same agonizing amount of time to undress him. His hands gropped at her ass, their eyes in a deadlock as his fingers slipped under the hem of her underwear. They were still challenging each other for dominance, and at this point Jareth himself was unsure of who would win.

She hit the final button and his fingers started to molest her in more delicate places. She shifted a little on his lap, but otherwise paid no attention. She began to pull the vest down his arms but stopped abruptly when he ran a finger down her slit, parting her just slightly. She took in a sharp breath and closed her eyes. She was extremely bothered and tender from arousal, and it was pathetic how even this simple touch could potentially undo her. She gripped the material of his vest as it clung to his arms and she gasped a little when his finger pushed deeper. He turned his head into the side of her hair and smelled her.

"You're so wet already," he said, sliding his index finger in and out of her with ease. She tried not to tense her knees around him, but couldn't stop her hips from moving with him. She wanted more and he was taunting the fuck out of her.

She tried to say his name but it came out as a moan and she gave in to press her forehead against his shoulder. For a moment she thought he'd taken pity when he finished shrugging out of his vest, but surprised her when his touch returned with two fingers. She grunted and gripped his arms tightly, willing to cum just from that. She was so wet she could hear his fingers moving in and out of her, the noise slick and deeply carnal. Her moans were light and breathy, begging without shame. She was so lost in it, it took her a minute to even register his free hand had begun penetrating another orifice.

"Mph, that's it. Just like that," he said, softly, and the sound of his voice made her realize she was pushing her ass back onto his finger. She almost flinched, almost seized up, but the fingers in her cunt moved faster to distract her. She moaned again and pushed back. She felt his finger plunge deeper and gasped. "You're so open for me Sarah. Don't stop." He spoke to her as if she were the one doing everything, and helped her relax.

"You're going to make me cum like this," she said, warning and somewhat pleading with him. He threw his head back and took a labored breath.

"Good. I want to feel it."

"Jareth-"

"Keep going."

His fingers in her sex hooked and sent a whole new sensation coursing through her. She had no idea how many or how much of what was where but she felt full and stretched, and still she wanted more. She was so fucking wet she could feel it on her thighs and she struggled to keep her insides relaxed as her muscles quivered from imminent release.

Suddenly her back bowed and she let out a shriek, followed by a gasp and a moan and all sorts of unbidden sounds. Jareth took the moment to plunge himself as deep as he could, the shock of which sent her completely over the edge. She cried out, her body fighting against spasms as the orgasm wracked her from the core. She could feel herself tightening around his fingers, feel her fluids build and seep down her legs, and all the while she clung to him, her face buried deep in the folds of his shirt.

She panted raggedly and, in the moment of post-orgasmic numbness, he pulled out of her. The motion caused her to jolt unexpectedly but then her body relaxed. Like a pauper, she peered up to him with weak limbs but the look on his face was anything but merciful.

"Oh, did you think I was done?" Sarah gasped audibly when his finger was suddenly running through her slit again, coating itself thoroughly before being plunged in her mouth. Her eyes, once dreamy, widened as the taste of her own fluids hit her tongue and his fingers curled around her teeth, yanking her forward. "You haven't finished undressing me yet," he said, eyeing her tongue as he gently traced a shiny finger along it. She wanted to kiss him, passion still burning fiercely, but he wouldn't let her and so resorted to sucking his fingers deep into her mouth.

"You're such a tease," she mumbled, shooting him a sassy brow as her hands lowered to pull the ends of his shirt up his torso. He leaned forward for her and her fingers caressed his ribs. He was forced to remove himself from her mouth when she lifted the shirt up over his head, and she took the opportunity to plant a kiss on his chest. Her hands roamed to his shoulders as her tongue moved to his nipple and lightly flicked.

Jareth's chest expanded on a breath and she sucked on him a little more, her hands now moving down to his waist. She kissed her way to his other nipple, her hands now fisting around his erection, still pleasantly rock hard. It made her grin and move lower. He watched her back away to kneel on the floor once more, her mouth leaving light little nips and kisses down the center of his stomach. Once again he watched her tongue curl around him and he inhaled sharply, though he nearly ripped her off. She sensed the moment's contention and peered up to him.

"Please, don't flatter yourself. I need to finish undressing you remember?" she teased, smiling mischievously as she took one of his own hands and squeezed it around himself. She then looked away to work on untying his boots.

Jareth stared down at her and the dangerous amount of cleavage his vantage earned him, and began to stroke himself. She was working meticulously, taunting him by undoing each individual lace. Her willfulness left him unfazed, as he was too busy contemplating fucking her tits. She removed his boots and socks, and leaned up to take hold of the waist of his pants.

"You know, it's not fair you get to be naked and I don't," she said, yanking downward when he lifted his hips for her. He grinned and caught her by the nape.

"How about a compromise?" he asked and leaned forward suddenly, so suddenly that she flew back. Only, instead of hitting the floor she hit the soft down of her bed. While her breath caught up with her, he finished removing his trousers and then reached up for her panties, which slid down and off with zero resistance. "Fair enough?" he asked, lifting her leg to kiss the side of her foot. She narrowed her eyes just slightly but otherwise relaxed into the mattress when his kisses started traveling upward. Her ankle, her calf, knee, thigh… She found her legs spreading and her neck arching on reflex.

Her hands fisted the pillow behind her when he began to suck on the apex of her thigh, her hips rocking up towards his mouth with wanting. He turned his head and lightly kissed her clit, making her wet all over again. Her nethers were throbbing, yearning so badly to be penetrated, but for all her begging he refused, torturing her instead with external licks and kisses. She groaned in the back of her throat in frustration, but just then he took pity on her and pressed his tongue deep within her folds. She moaned and rose her hips, forcing him deeper as he plunged his tongue into her sex over and over.

Her face was growing hot. She wasn't ready to orgasm but God he knew what he was doing. Her desire made the pleasure sharper, the twinges and pulls near uncomfortable as she writhed. She wanted him on top of her, fucking her deep. Jesus Christ-

"Jareth-" she moaned. She thought she heard him laugh but couldn't tell. Peering down, she watched him raise her knee to his shoulder as he rose over her. She was so open and wet he didn't even need to position himself before pushing in, filling her effortlessly to the hilt.

Sarah's breath caught and she arched her back, and he too gasped as the hand holding her thigh constricted. He lowered to her, taking her leg with him and bending her in half before pulling out and thrusting again. This time she shrieked, turning this way and that to find a more comfortable position, but he wouldn't allow it. The feeling was too acute, too strong. He was moving so slowly she thought she'd explode.

After a moment she opened her eyes, which had been screwed shut, to find he himself was reeling -eyes closed and breath heavy as he fought back his own orgasm. Seeing this helped her to settle, though prompted his attention back to her. His gaze met hers and he cocked his head as if he had something to say, but instead fell on top of her. A crushing kiss smeared her lips and he began to pound into her.

Sarah moaned uncontrollably. This was what she wanted. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and holding him, her heel dug into his back as he held her leg pinned between them. Each thrust was long, deep and hard, and he moaned just as she did. He bit her neck when she turned away for air, but the claustrophobic feeling of their bodies being so forcefully pressed together had her soon pushing him away. She wanted to look at him, to see his body and his face as he fucked her. He obliged, releasing her leg to take hold of both hips and lift her, pulling her into each thrust. Somehow this was even deeper, but not painful. Jareth inhaled sharply and threw his head back. If he didn't care for her wellbeing he would have fucked her until she was black and blue, and it boggled him how she could drive him to such a primal breaking point. As rough as he was, he was always restraining, always careful not to lose his head and hurt her. Perhaps she sensed this, sensed that was what was on his mind in that very moment, for suddenly she leaned up and threw her arms around his neck, riding him face to face.

Her kiss was demanding, lacking any such control he deluded himself in having. Teeth clashed, tongues melded and lips were bitten, though the violence of her onslaught only made him hold onto her tighter. His arms went to her back, supporting her while her hips rose and fell. She turned and pushed him down to the spot she once lay. He resisted at first, but a hand to his sternum was all it took to subdue his eagerness.

She rode him steadily, eyes locked to convey it was her turn now. He relaxed slightly, so she rolled her hips higher and higher, sliding down on him from tip to base and back again. His jaw tensed and his eyes closed briefly, though he was able to refrain from thrusting back. She took his hands and brought them to her hips, allowing him to maneuver her how he preferred and, once they found a rhythm, moved them again to fondle her breasts.

She was embarrassed at first but now the idea of him having a particular fascination with a part of her body turned her on. She wanted him to grope and pinch and suck. She wanted to feel wanton and dominant, to command their pleasure- how it was received and inflicted.

Jareth's gaze became more intense as he watched how viscerally Sarah's lust transformed her. There was a moment when sexual avarice took over in her and it was something that he would never ever be prepared for. It was happening more and more often and he adored it. Craved it. Much more so than he imagined. It went against his very nature, but at this rate she was sure to turn him into a proper submissive with little more than a stern feathered glance. She held his hands to her breasts and he let her manipulate him to her liking. Fingers pushed beneath the lace, exposing the rosey peaks of her nipples and he tugged reflexively. She gasped from the sharp pinch and threw her head back, thrusting down on him harder and making him moan. Her back was arched to him, pressing out her bosom as his hands became more willful and greedy. He wanted to suck on them, to shove his face between them and inhale her scent.

As if reading his mind, she threw herself forward, supporting herself with a hand on either side of his head as she rode him. This time he couldn't help himself, he met her halfway and thrust up into her. She cried out wonderfully as he captured an exposed nipple in his mouth, his hands pumping the flesh of her breast as she practically pressed them to his face.

He was panting, his breath hot and wet against her skin. His hands moved to her hips but were no sooner yanked away and stretched above his head. She held him by the wrists, keeping him in place while her pelvis moved and her chest heaved. He flexed a bit, both knowing it was a pseudo hold. She leaned down and kissed him, and this time it was surprisingly tender. Oh, how exciting it would be if he were actually restrained. If he actually could be. She knew how strong he was, plus he had magic. There was no way fluffy handcuffs were going to stop him should he set his mind to something. She thought of this, thought of the myriad ways he could be restrained as he so often did to her. How erotic that would be. How invigorating.

Her grip on his wrists gave way and her touch traveled back to his abdomen as she gave up on her daydreams to continue fucking his brains out. She continued to lean back, positioning her arms on his thighs for support. When she looked back to him, she smiled.

Jareth stared with an open mouth at the image she presented before him, though couldn't place the reason for her wry smile. It was like she was impressed. With herself? His hands were still resting on the pillow above his head, but now felt the inclination to reach out and tear her from that victory pose.

And then his body tensed. There was a clank, a jingle of sorts, and he realized his arms were secured in place. He glanced up, unable to hide the surprise, borderline panic that hit him. His wrists, where she once held them, were cuffed to the bed. He peered back to her and realized that was the reason she was smiling. A horrible sense of dread fell over him then, for he was not the one who conjured them.

Jareth's mood was nearly shattered as his attention turned to the restraints and away from Sarah entirely. He pulled but nothing happened. He tried to keep himself composed, to process the situation without her becoming aware of it, but it was difficult to say the least. This was not his magic. What's more, it was strong magic. Very strong. And it smelled of Liana. He peered to Sarah again, thankfully still caught up in her own gratification. She had done this. There was no other possibility. Her desire must have been so strong she'd tapped into Liana's power to restrain him. The implications of such had him writhing.

Did she know what she had done? Was the world about to shatter with his dick still inside her? How was he still hard right now? Better yet, how the fuck was he going to get out of this?!

Panic raged through him the likes of which he'd never felt, aided by the stimulation he was already experiencing. He pulled on the cuffs again, this time as hard as he could, and still nothing. His jaw tightened and he took in a deep breath. Even if he could somehow deal with all this without Sarah realizing, there was a very real possibility that he would be incapable of breaking free. How the fuck would he explain that?

"Are you alright?" He looked up in a fright to find Sarah staring down at him. She was looking at him peculiarly but with amusement. "I mean, I'm flattered you cuffed yourself, but if it's going to bother you that much you can just poof them away."

And he blinked, a very very small wave of relief soothing him. So she had no idea? No, how could she? Why would she? He chose to take solace in that, at the very least, she thought he'd done it himself. But that still didn't solve how he was going to get out of this. His thoughts were still running a mile a minute when she leaned in and caressed his face.

"I know it isn't real...I don't think I could ever actually control you. You can break those at any time but...I like you like this." She spoke softly, seductively, and it actually worked. For a moment his thoughts turned back to her and his throbbing dick standing idly inside her and an unexpected jolt of arousal coursed through him. Sarah flinched and hummed, having felt his erection re-harden and pulse inside her. He was staring at her wide-eyed, like he was caught off guard. The sound of the chains around his wrists clinked as he flexed again, but otherwise he remained quiet. She'd never seen him like this, at a loss during sex. Was this new territory for him? She'd always assumed he'd been bound before… "Shall I take the lead then?"

She leaned away from him slowly, her hands lightly dragging down his torso. It might not be authentic, but she could sure as shit roleplay. His stare never left her, he never even blinked. He just laid there as tense as a brick wall and watched. She moved her hair out of the way and rose her hands behind her back.

"Since you no longer have any say in the matter…" she said, unhooking her bustier to finally free her suffocating breasts. They were a bit sore, so she massaged them sensually. Again Jareth's fists tightened, and the clang rang once more. "I'll give you a safeword. How about ...daffodil. Just say daffodil if things get too intense for you, how's that?" she was playing with him but he looked anything but amused. It was almost like he was glaring at her.

"Sarah…" he said, with a misplaced sense of warning.

"Do you not like that? How about lollipop." She did little to hide how much fun she was already having with just the idea of Jareth calling out lollipop in the effort to get her to stop. As if that would happen.

Ignoring his queer attitude, she reached down and began to jerk the base of his cock. She felt it pulse again, getting just a little bit harder. She was almost concerned with how tense his posture was, but wasn't about to doubt herself.

She squeezed harder and pumped him, rising off of him somewhat to coat him with her fluids, and then leaned forward to plant kisses across his chest. He inhaled deeply, his chest rising a great deal, and again he pulled against the restraints. He seemed agitated. Maybe she should slow down, stop all together…but she didn't. Instead she rocked her hips, fucking the head of his erection while her fist pumped the base and her tongue flicked across his nipple.

His breathing labored quickly, his heart beating fiercely, but he refused to moan. Determined, she reached down and stroked his balls, sinking herself deeper onto him and undulating with precision. This time his neck arched and he gasped, a small half-moan that wasn't nearly good enough for her.

"Should I keep teasing you Jareth? Should I force you to cum for me? Or should I use you for myself, casting you aside and only coming back when the mood strikes me?" she asked, talking dirty as she leaned forward and nipped his ear. His eyes were closed, and she could tell he was using all his strength to remain composed, but why he bothered she had no idea. He was tensing against the chains tightly, his biceps flexed and a low jingle immitting from the vibration his grip sent through the chains. "I think you need to relax. Try to enjoy yourself...maybe I'll take pity," she whispered, tracing his ear with her tongue and then sucking on the lobe. Jareth's mouth dropped open and a stifled moan escaped him.

What the fuck was happening? Jareth stared at the ceiling as if he could burn a hole through it, forcing his chest to rise and fall in a normal rhythm. His fists were so tight they were completely drained of color, and all he could think of was how he was trapped. How he could not break free. How he really, truly was, for the very first time, at her mercy. And it...it aroused him like never before.

He'd never been helpless. He'd never been at the physical mercy of another, let alone in the bedroom. The times he had been bound, it had always been with the ease of knowing he could be free to do as he pleased at any moment. But this...this was something he never thought he would experience. A mentality completely foreign to him. He was shocked by how turned on he was, by how badly he wanted to give in, to cum and be fucked and cum again. To do so for her. And oh, how well she fit the role. Every word out of her mouth, every lowered glance, every goddamn flicker of her touch made his dick throb and tighten. He'd never felt so helpless, so terrified and titillated all at once. Every part of him was on fire, urging him to break free and fuck her, rip her apart, throw her across the room. And yet he fought it, he fought her provocations as if his life depended on it. If he were to cum now he would be spent and still unable to free himself. He needed to prolong this as long as possible.

"You're getting so hard. You're like a rock," Sarah said, ripping him from his contention. He looked up to her to find her riding him quickly, her head cast back as she fondled herself. He knew she was doing it for him, trying to dismantle him with weapons he now regretted teaching her how to use. Could Liana sense what was going on? Was she laughing at him? Would she come to his aid? Sarah started moaning and it was all he could do not to let go right there.

"Fucking Christ-" he hissed, and Sarah smiled. Her lingo had been rubbing off on him too lately and, as irreverent as this particular phrase was, it made her so happy when he spoke unwittingly like that. Like it was natural. She briefly wondered if he had any idea who or what Christ even was.

"That's right," she said, fucking him harder when his hips gave an involuntary thrust. Subconsciously reaching up, she found a silk rope dangling just over her head. How long had that been there? she wondered. Did Jareth make that too? He must have. She'd thank him later, but for now utilized it to her full advantage.

Wrapping a hand around the rope, she lifted herself slightly, taking the weight off her knees and allowing herself to ride him less strenuously. This also allowed for a more specific range of movement, something Jareth was very quick to take notice of. He opened his eyes and saw she'd conjured yet another device and again panic and fear coursed unforgivingly alongside fierce sexual arousal in a manner no living being should have to undergo. He moaned bitterly, painfully almost and yanked against the chains as hard as he could. It shook the bed, the headboard resounding loudly off the stone wall behind it, but still they held strong. Jareth was beside himself. Was his magic really so weak in the face of Liana?

"Ah, Jareth- you're going to make me cum." Her voice took on a high pitch characteristic of her eminent release, and yet instead of reveling in it he wanted to shout at her that he wasn't doing a damn thing.

No matter how hard he tried, her moans kept calling his attention, drawing his eyes to her and it was getting more and more difficult to look away. Her legs were spread wide over him and she rose high between each thrust, giving him the perfect view of his dick pumping in and out of her. Her breasts, swollen and weighty, bounced with her movements and boasted a healthy sheen of sweat that dripped down to her abdomen. Such a figure would put any pure-blooded fae to shame but -dammit that was not what he needed to be thinking about!

He hadn't even realized how long his gaze had been transfixed nor the sound of his own voice as he gave in to moan.

Sarah gasped again and let go of the rope, falling forward to lean over him, sweat dripping from her forehead to his.

"Jesus you're hard," she said more seriously, wincing a bit as she continued to take him in. "Do you want to cum that badly?" she asked, and as his eyes raked over her face he couldn't help himself from saying,

"Yes."

"Yes?" Sarah repeated, as if that were incorrect. He screwed his eyes shut and groaned, arching his back in frustration.

"Ugh, yes!" he said, frustration of every sort wracking through him. He hated himself just then. Hated that he couldn't help himself, that he couldn't control himself. And at the same time it was liberating. He wished he could enjoy it openly, but the repercussions were too severe. He needed to get out of these restraints. He needed to know the extent of Sarah's control over them. He needed to fucking fill her full of his cum.

Sarah traced a finger along his lips and smiled teasingly.

"Not before me," she said, then leaned down to kiss his neck.

Dear God. What was this creature and what had it done with Sarah. He was already kicking himself for not appreciating the glorious fuck she was giving him, but every thought of her or her touch or her taste or smell or her ass riding him or her beautiful breasts pushing against him brought him closer and closer to actual ruin. She was sucking on his neck raggedly, intentionally bruising the skin. The sensation was overwhelming but this time he didn't tear away. He wanted to cum, just as much if not more than escaping; he wanted to pound away inside her and fill her to the brim. He wanted her to moan and scream his name and claw his skin and wilt for him. He wanted-he wanted-

And then Sarah pulled away. Her hands fisted the blanket on either side of his head and she began moaning low and loud. She'd had her legs spread wider, her pelvis held lower, and he'd been unwittingly fucking her senseless. She was so wet, the sounds of her fluids lapping between their bodies was loud and shameless and she'd angled herself for perfect penetration. This was it. He couldn't fight it anymore. He was going to give in to her, consequences be damned. He started to moan with her, though hers grew considerably louder. Her arms tensed around him, her insides clenched and he gasped in reaction to it. She called out his name, throwing her head back as she came violently, unabashedly, selfishly. Her hot cunt sucked him on every thrust, thick juices coating him and soaking the bed beneath them. She was so hot. He'd never been more attracted to her than in that moment. He could feel his dick hardening, pulsating in the preparation to cum. He was about to lose it, really lose it. In a last ditch effort, he pulled on the restraints one more time with everything he had.

In a flash they were flying across the bed. The force of Jareth's pull had been so strong that once the bands snapped both he and Sarah were sent crashing forward. She yelped in shock but had no time to adjust. Jareth slammed her down, pinned her fiercely like a dog and fucked her harder and faster than he ever had. Sarah screamed and he came. He came loudly, furiously, with anger and tension and passion and residual fear. His moan was hoarse, his grip on her body painful and she winced and pulled against it. For minutes it seemed to last, wave after wave of bitter orgasm crashing through him like nothing he'd ever felt before. He clung to her. He held her, totally unaware and without care for bones that may be breaking under such strain. Sarah cried out again, screamed his name in plea to release her, but it was only when the words Stop -you're hurting me phased through his ears that he regained control of himself.

His grip on her arms loosened immediately and the roaring sound of his own breathing surrounded him. His forehead was pressed into the bed beside hers, his gaze searing and hot. Sweat fell from his brow and it seemed every muscle in his body was tense. Sarah was grimacing beneath him but he physically couldn't move himself just yet.

After a moment he uncurled his hands from her arms and fisted the blanket instead. His breathing was still heavy but had slowed -if only marginally. Sarah meanwhile kept quiet and could only stare at him. He seemed like a wild animal, the strain of regaining equilibrium physically evident as his arms flexed around her. She gave him a minute, not quite sure if this was a good or bad thing.

"Um...Jareth?"

"I'm sorry," he blurted, and she turned her head towards him. His brow was screwed tight and he kept his gaze strictly at the bed. He had yet to move, to do anything other than calm his breathing. Knowing she was looking at him, he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, his throat hoarse. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I just...I need a moment," he said and then sighed roughly, a sense of relief she interpreted as relaxation finally coming over him. His arms started to buckle a little, so he gave in to rest some of his weight on her. Sarah, beginning to realize this reaction of his was something more serious, rose a hand to his back and kissed his shoulder in a soothing gesture.

"It's okay...I'm fine," she said, her voice meek. His back was slick beneath her palm, and she ran it from his shoulder down his spine. "...Did I do something wrong?" she finally asked, not quite sure what was happening. Jareth scowled into the sheets, but was careful not to let her see.

"No," he was quick to say, then shook his head. His hands shifted, just wanting to make sure he really was free, and then he relaxed completely. "No, of course not. I just…I've never been restrained before." Sarah stared at him with something of concern when he paused and vaguely shook his head with what seemed like shame. When he continued his tone was a bit uneven. "I've never felt...I've never done anything like that." Sarah found it hard to remain sympathetic as her confusion grew.

"What are you talking about? You've definitely been restrained before...right? The way you made it seem…" Her voice tapered off when his brow rose incredulously.

"Not like that," he said. His eyes were closed again, his brow furrowed tight. It was a look that didn't sit well with her. It was pained, frustrated. From her perspective it had no right being on his face.

"I don't understand." No, of course she didn't, because he was acting like a total boob right now. What the hell was wrong with him? "Jareth?" And he huffed sharply, turning away.

"Forgive me. I just had the most profound sexual experience of my life and am having some trouble pulling myself together, alright?" he said, with brutal honesty because, well, what else was there? He couldn't bring himself to look at her, feeling a queer and unwanted sense of vulnerability that seemed to have him babbling away without filter.

"What-really?" Sarah gaped and shoved him off of her. He wasn't expecting it and simply fell onto the bed from her weak gesture. She stared at him wide-eyed. Jareth rolled onto his back and threw an arm across his forehead. His heart was still racing and he stared at the ceiling. He didn't know how to interpret all that he was feeling. Right now, his primary urges were to either run straight to Liana or simply pass out from total satisfaction. "So...it was good? It seems...like maybe it wasn't," he heard her say. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath.

"It was…." It was clear there was a word hanging off the end of his tongue, what it could possibly be neither he nor Sarah had the slightest clue. Instead, his sentence was cut short by a sigh, one that deflated Sarah's own expression to a frown.

"I'm...sorry? If you were that bothered by it why didn't you just break free? You're the one who tied yourself down," she said, getting a little bit defensive. She really didn't get it. Was he angry that she'd taken the lead like that? He said the experience was profound but that didn't necessarily mean it was positive. She started to doubt herself and cast her eyes downward with insecurity. It was then that he said something quite surprising.

"I couldn't break free."

"What?"

Jareth chose his next words carefully. He was blatantly unable to get his shit together and he knew the presumptions Sarah must be making. He needed to explain himself...as best he could.

"I couldn't...break free from the chains," he repeated, grimacing in shame at the feel of her stare on him widening anew.

"But-how? You did it to your-"

"I suppose in the heat of the moment," he quickly interrupted her. "I got carried away and made them unnecessarily strong. Even though it be by my own magic, think of it as an enchantment that once made cannot so easily be unmade." The hand strewn above his head began to fist, though she failed to see it. His response was total bullshit and he prayed her ignorance of magic would be his saving grace. But even still, the more he talked the more level-headed he became, which only allowed feelings of frustration and incompetence to worm through. He waited for Sarah to respond, growing nervous with how long she took to ponder.

"So…" she finally started, staring down at the weaving of the comforter as she thought. "You really were restrained then…" He peered over at her unexpected response, a mistake it seemed as her eager eyes then pounced. "Is that why you looked like you were about to lose your shit the whole time?" she asked, drawing near to his face in what seemed to be excitement. Jareth's brow knitted again and his jaw clenched.

"Mind repeating that?" he asked, sardonically, with an attitude that had Sarah realizing she may be being tactless. This was obviously a big deal to him...maybe she should be more sensitive.

"Sorry it's just...If it freaked you out why didn't you say anything? We could have just stopped…" And this time her brow drew when he laughed impulsively. It was an exasperated noise, one accompanied by a shake of the head and an eye roll towards the ceiling.

"Stop? There is no stopping with you," he said, with a small measure of ease, and turned to look at her with a faint smile. Sarah's returning grin was unsure of itself, unsure of whether she should press the issue further or let it go. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked and a hand subconsciously went to her arm where he held her down.

"I...it's sore," she admitted. "But I'm fine." She didn't like the way his look on her changed and thought maybe she should have said something else. In a way she still didn't understand, he always became deeply upset when he hurt her outside the realm of "punishment" and while the empathy he showed in those moments was reassuring it was in no way enjoyable. He withdrew his arm and shifted so he could turn towards her, then reached out as if to grasp her. That's when Sarah's eyes went wide. "Oh my God, Jareth, your wrists!"

Jareth peered down just as Sarah was yanking his arms away from him, and even he too was a little surprised.

"Holy hell, you're covered in blood. Are you serious?"

She was holding his arms close to her face, the tips of her finger lightly tracing the small rings and cuts dug into his skin. Jareth pulled them away from her with a shrug.

"It took a great deal of effort to break free. You were hoping for an authentic experience, were you not?" he asked, casually. Sarah just shook her head.

"You're a freaking maniac, you know that? Jesus Jareth…"

"So you're not ready for blood play yet, noted," he said, which earned him a stern glare.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, reaching out for him again, and again he shooed her away.

"Relax. I didn't even notice." For her satisfaction, he rose his arms up for her and turned them from side to side as he healed the wounds. Her eyes scoured fiercely as the little cuts quickly retracted. "See? All better." While normally he would have relished the chance to have Sarah dote on him, over this particular matter he'd rather divert her attention. She didn't know enough about magic to question him, but even so he was walking on thin ice with this one.

He reigned in his sarcastic expression when he saw her own become twisted and huffy.

"All better my ass. You're getting blood all over my bed," she muttered, grumbling to herself as she pushed off the bed and stomped her way to the bathroom. He appreciated her total disregard of modesty along the way. When she returned she had a wettened towel in hand. "Here," she said, tersely and took one of his hands. She cleaned him up with minor annoyance, and he supposed his blase reaction to her tender concern was the reason for it. She was scowling down at him, but he could tell beneath the bravado she was actually worrying over him.

"Hey," he said, earning an impulsive glance. He caught her chin at just the right moment and pulled her in for a kiss. It was tender, appreciative, and apparently the right move to make. He felt her attitude leave through an exhale as he prolonged the kiss, and only pulled away once her brow had softened. He leaned back down to the bed, and her eyes caught on his hand along the way.

"You're still wearing the ring," she stated. Jareth rose a brow and brought one bloodless hand to rest behind his head.

"Rings are meant to be worn, are they not?" he replied. Sarah's gaze fell with pursed lips as she finished wiping off his other wrist and then released it to him. She couldn't formulate the right way to convey herself, to express how strange seeing a ring on his finger made it all seem. Was this the new norm? Were they simply a married couple now? It seemed otherworldly. Mostly because she was, in fact, still wearing hers too. "Would you prefer I take it off?"

Sarah blinked and looked over at him, realizing she'd been holding a hand over her stomach protectively.

"What? No. Why?" she asked.

"You looked disappointed just now," he said, tilting his head to one side. "Everything alright?" She shook her head subtly and laid back down next to him.

"Yeah. I just...feel kind of weird all of a sudden," she said, wondering why there was a deeply unsettled feeling now churning in her stomach. She nestled her head on his chest and cast her arm across his torso to distract herself from it. "I think I'm going to go to sleep. Are you staying?"

"Are you asking?"

"Yeah."

"Then yes." He curled his arm to pull her close and pressed a kiss against her forehead. She seemed tired now, while he was wired and nervous. How he would love to drift off together in such an embrace, to feel her bare skin against his and feel their breath slow in tandem. It was just one more detail he'd overlooked when planning the rest of his life with her, one more detail that made changing that plan worth everything. He would strive to keep this bliss, as long as he could.

He waited until she was sleeping soundly before leaving, tucked her in and moved the pillows to accommodate their inverted position. He'd come back in the morning, before she would ever know he was gone. He may have gotten free this time, but wicked portents now loomed overhead. He was about to take her out into the world and give her the reigns, but they weren't ready for this. He needed to find Liana, to make sure she was safe. To make sure that he was safe.

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A/N- Thanks again for reading. Stay tuned for the next installment!