A/N- Alright. I've done it. …Hopefully lol. Let's see...there are some things I wanted to say before getting into it, but I'm probably going to forget a few. Oh well, I can always go back and edit. Most importantly, this chapter features a song number. I think it critical to familiarize yourself with it before getting to that section, or even listening to it while you read along to really get the effect. The piece in question is Nuvole Bianche, by Ludovico Einaudi. Like with the last musical number, while this work exists in our real world, in the scope of this story it does not. So please bear that in mind. The number immediately following it is an abridged version of La Campanella, by Liszt. I did my best to articulate the emotion of the song, but musical terminology is not my strong suit. So...just like last time, I did my best =P I guess that's only one thing to say. Huh. I'm definitely forgetting something... Oh! there's also a very vague shoutout to a new fandom OC, Mavvi, who is featured in A Fairy's Tale by Busted Brain. The reference is not to Mavvy herself, but more of a tipping of the hat -if you will. Anyway...if there's nothing else, without further adieu...


Chapter 27, Secrets part 3


Sarah and crew spent the remainder of the day idling about the estate. Amara's tour was seemingly limitless, but that wasn't a bad thing. It actually made for quite an interesting day, as it turned out the private abode of Lord Eines was a fully functioning community in and of itself. There were a number of homesteads, farms, shops, a vineyard, and even a clinic on the grounds. Amara had explained that, due to its sheer size, her predecessors had taken the initiative to allot the estate's resources to the local tenants who needed it most. They would even freely host weddings and community gatherings. Over time this had made the estate self-sufficient and had provided wonders in giving back to the community. Amara knew everyone by name, and in turn everyone addressed her with a ready amount of joy and affection.

The more Sarah learned about this place the more hopeful for her child's future she became. Everyone was normal and kind, without scrutiny, without backwards overbearing rules, and in no way even remotely similar to the kind of mad-hatters she'd met at the engagement ball. As the day wore on, it just kept on surprising her. But, she also wondered if maybe that was just the class system at work. Maybe it was just typical for the aristocracy to be so...eccentric. Still, if such a reasonable way of life existed within the Goblin Kingdom, Sarah found no reason why she couldn't bring it into the upper class. Maybe that could be her vocation. Bringing reform to the Orpian Court.

The thought perked up her spirits for no more than a moment. Heh, she —little ol' foreign, achingly naïve, human Sarah— bring sense to the senseless Underground? Yeah, right. She'd need an eternity. …oh, wait.

It was around 7 when the three of them retired to the main house for dinner. Sarah was told guests would not start arriving until 8:30, and the reception would not officially commence until 9, so they could take their time.

Once again, Lady Arubella and her family joined them —although their party was still missing three key figures. Madam Lauris had come in, just as they were about to sit down, and informed her that Jareth and Eines had finally returned from the wall and that they would not be joining them for dinner. This made Sarah feel a little grumpy, as now she alone had to bear the brunt of Aurbella's attention. Roldan was also absent, and she was told that Jareth's business required him as well. And so her pout became a scowl. Damn. She really was on her own.

But t'was not all for naught. Sarah was able to use the meal as a means of preparing herself for the night ahead. Arubella and Amara prepped her on all the guests she could expect to meet with at the reception: the lords (and one lordess) of the 5 surrounding districts, their families, their sheriffs, and a variety of other lesser nobles —the names and positions of which Sarah could not keep up with. At least the names of the lords were familiar to her. She'd met all of them at the ball.

Sarah and Marie parted with Amara after dinner, retiring to Sarah's room to get ready for the party.

"Would you like to keep your hair up? Or wear it down?" Marie asked. Sarah, taking off her (now quite dusty) coat, glanced at herself in the mirror as she pondered.

"Um...down maybe? I don't know. Whatever you think will look best."

She laid her coat over the back of a chair and then looked down as she pulled up the skirt of her dress. Just like Amara's from that morning, there was a heavy ring of mud rimming it and globs of dirt and grass that stuck to her boots.

"I think down would be more appropriate...this isn't meant to be all that formal, after all," Mariella replied.

"Should...I change my dress? Mine got pretty dirty out in the fields today," Sarah called out, looking up and around after realizing Mariella had suddenly disappeared. She reappeared very quickly, however, shuffling out of the bathroom with a collection of feminine trinkets.

"Oh, mine as well. Fret not though. I can take care of that in a jiffy," she assured, setting her things down on the dining table and gesturing for Sarah to take a seat. She obeyed.

Mariella stood behind her, and Sarah's eyes stared vacantly upward as she felt nimble fingers begin to pull the pins from her hair.

"Did you enjoy yourself today?" Marie asked after a moment of silence. Sarah felt a heavy tendril of hair tumble down to her shoulder, and she glanced to the side.

"I did. Amara's nice. Really nice, actually."

"Indeed. I quite enjoyed her company. It's been a nice break in routine, hasn't it?"

She sounded pleasant, content. Sarah pursed her lips as another curl fell down her back.

"Yeah...I was kind of thinking maybe…" and then she cut herself off, smiling in spite of nothing, and shook her head a little. "Nevermind. It's probably stupid."

Mariella set a small pile of pins down on the table next to her, then ran out the curls with her fingers.

"I doubt it. Tell me."

"I was thinking maybe...if she wanted, if it wouldn't impose, maybe...she might want to come back with us."

Sarah paused as if her words were something ludicrous, and she sat on edge through a silence that felt longer than it was. She tensed in surprise when Mariella's hands suddenly clamped down on her shoulders.

"Really? You're thinking of taking Amara on as a maid? Sarah, what about that is stupid?" she asked, leaning around to get good and close to Sarah's face as she spoke. Sarah eased back from the proximity. "I think Amara would make a wonderful addition to the castle. She would certainly liven the place up a bit. And you seem...a bit more at ease with her than I've seen you lately."

"You don't think it's too sudden? I mean, we just met her this morning," Sarah said, awkwardly turning away from Marie and all her vehemence. Mariella squeezed her shoulders as she straightened and went back to working through Sarah's hair.

"And? Sarah, you didn't meet me until I was already endowed to you. How else do you think these things are done?"

"And- well- she's a lordess. Isn't becoming my lady kind of a...step down or something?" Sarah asked.

"Far from it," Mariella quickly replied. "Being maid to a queen is the most esteemed position a woman can take other than becoming queen herself. I have no doubt both her and Lord Eines will be deeply honored by the offer."

There was a snap of two little clips, and then the rest of Sarah's hair tumbled down as one mass. Sarah glanced back at Marie.

"I'm afraid they won't see it as an offer though, you know? I don't want her to feel compelled to say yes just because I'm The Queen. She seems to have...a pretty good life here. I already feel guilty trying to take that away from her."

Mariella paused, letting out a small huff as she grinned down in amusement.

"Sarah, you're not taking anything from her," she said, with compassion. "In her eyes you'd actually be offering her a great deal. If you're worried she'll be bored in the capital, well, she seems the type to self-entertain rather easily, doesn't she?"

Sarah cracked a grin and looked away.

"Yeah. I envy that about her, really."

"Well? Then what are you even griping about?" Mariella asked, teasingly, keeping her tone light in the effort to perk Sarah's spirits back up. "No matter how you phrase it, the decision will still be hers, so I don't see any harm in simply putting it out there," Marie added, and she set down the final series of pins before clawing her fingers deep through Sarah's hair. Sarah felt a tingle of sorts, something she'd come to recognize as magic passing from her.

"Yeah...Maybe."

After styling Sarah's hair, Mariella moved on to give her a fresh face of make-up and her dress a magic steam-clean. The tone of the room had gone back to pleasantry, something Sarah was thankful for when Jareth suddenly opened the door.

Mariella paused, pulling her hands away from the necklace she'd just hooked around Sarah's neck, and bowed her head. Sarah glanced back over her shoulder, and her hand subconsciously gripped the arm of her chair.

He looked tired, which surprised her —but then she remembered he'd just been out performing magic for the last 7 hours. He took a few steps into the room before glancing in their direction. His eyes found Mariella's, and she tensed a tiny bit before taking a quick side step.

"Ah...You're just about ready. I'll leave you two alone," she said, giving Sarah a forced smile before making a very impromptu exit. She stopped by Jareth, curtsied, and gave him a formal "Your Majesty", before leaving the room. Sarah, feeling a little less stable without Mariella by her side, stood to her feet with the start of a frown.

"You're finally back," she said, passively, as she watched him drag a hand down his face and walk farther into the room. He turned around and threw himself back on the bed, then cast an arm over his eyes.

"Indeed."

He sounded lackluster, maybe even a little dour. Sarah approached him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Are you alright?"

He took in a shallow breath and raised his arm, peering over at her from one eye.

"You look nice," he said, ignoring her question. Sarah looked away.

"Thanks. Marie did it."

She didn't see him crack a grin, but heard his amused huff and she glanced back over. His arm had risen a little higher. Now he was looking at her with both eyes.

"You give her far too much credit, dear," he said, and she blushed at the way his lazy smile stretched. Her hands gripped the comforter and her toes curled.

"You were gone for a while. You look really tired. You sure you don't need to rest before the party?" she asked. Jareth, stretching his arms above his head, took in a deep breath and released it slowly.

"I am tired. And yes, I would absolutely prefer to skip Eines's festivity for several moments alone with you. But, alas, you're already dressed." He raised his hands in defeat and Sarah grinned. At first she'd thought he was in a bad mood, certainly from the way Mariella had all but ran out of the room. But, thankfully, he seemed just fine. She watched him close his eyes and relax on the bed. A part of her wanted to join him, to lay her head on his chest and just forget it all…

"You've never cared for such things before," she said teasingly. And then she paused. Why did she say that? Such a comment implied she'd rather spend the night alone with him when really… when really she was still afraid. She was still awkward and nervous. She did not want to be in situations that screamed at her to just tell him already —an echo she could hear building within her even now. She couldn't face it yet. And yet...

"True," Jareth said, absently, sounding a little wayward as he felt a faint tug of sleep. Sarah, realizing a rare moment when his attention was not on her, thought to change directions quick. She stood from the bed and offered him a hand.

"Well...come on then. There's a lot of people waiting to see us. It's almost nine and you still need to get dressed, don't you?"

Jareth popped open an eye and stared at her. She was in front of him at the foot of the bed now, looking down at him with an intent expression on her face. As he stared up, he took a moment to regard her from such a commanding angle.

She exuded a very stark air of authority as she stared down at him, as her eyes turned narrow and sharp, which was how he realized her make-up was more extreme than usual —flaunting dark, smoky eyes and glistening red lips that looked plump and wet. There was a pink hue to her cheeks, and a very flattering wave in her hair that aged her in a way that he could already feel himself crippling under. She wore a necklace of blood-red rubies, which stood out against the flawless white of her bare chest and shoulders, drawing attention to the column of her neck and the hint of pale blue vein that he, so suddenly, wanted to bite.

Her grip was strong when he took her hand and allowed her to pull him to his feet. There was a ghost of a grin on his face as he watched her, as he fought, with every fiber of his being, not to devour her then and there.

"I may need your help," he said, mischievously, as he plucked open the top button on his vest.


Unlike the previous fae gatherings Sarah had been privy to, Jareth informed her that tonight's soiree would not be held in a grand ballroom or dining hall. Instead, they were to be ushered into a very intimate cluster of apartments which centered around what Sarah would later refer to as a cocktail lounge. This wing, reserved for such dalliances no doubt, was sectioned off from the rest of the estate —which she assumed was why the halls were as dead as a graveyard as Jareth escorted her there.

She was starting to feel a little nervous. The silence was getting to her.

"Relax," Jareth said, patting her on the forearm as he spied on the uneven line curling her lips. Sarah's brows drew together, and she gripped his arm a little tighter.

"I don't like how quiet it is. It's creeping me out."

The overbearing darkness wasn't helping either. Most of the manor was encased in the same darkly toned wood, which did very little to aid the raw light of the dozens of candles they'd passed. The place felt like a cavern now. Hollow. Like a place she'd be running away from in a flowing white negligee carrying a candelabra before the night was through. As she peered from the flickering tips of one melting candlestick to another, she reassured herself by thinking: if the night ever did call for such dramatics, at least there were plenty on hand.

"There will be more than enough noise soon enough. You should enjoy this reprieve while it lasts," Jareth said. His voice was soft, calm. Sarah peered up at him discreetly.

He looked good in candle light. Most people did, but she was biased and thought he pulled off warm glowing tones especially well. Upon her suggestion, he'd pulled his hair back again. There was little fluff to it now, his frace framed by a few loose tendrils, while the rest was tied with a long, silky ribbon into a high ponytail that looked sleek against the reflected light. It draped over his shoulder, having gotten a little longer (she noticed) over the few months since she'd arrived. She'd also noticed he'd darkened the markings around his eyes to match hers —a deep kohl black with the faintest specks of glittery red. That too caught the light of the candles, and she would find herself lost in the subtle twinkle of gold, orange, and red as they passed by one light source after another. It wasn't fair to be so otherworldly, she thought. To be so naturally ethereal and regal and severe.

His ensemble matched hers as well. He'd opted for a black shirt with tattered lace trim, tucked into high waisted black breeches. Over it, he wore a crushed, red velvet waistcoat which had a bronze Goblin crest laid into it. It had black, beaded filigree that matched the designs on her own dress, which had her wondering how in the world he'd been able to coordinate their wardrobes in the first place. He wore his signature boots and gloves —polished especially for the occasion. The look was completed by a long, high collared overcoat. It was also black, a military fashion, composed of a myriad of materials and decorated with everything from silk, rope tassels to buffed leather straps. The trim around the collar, hem and cuffs was a bronze color to match the vest. All in all, he looked very dark tonight. Very rich and broody. He fit in with their surroundings perfectly.

"Am I allowed to dispense court etiquette here too?" she asked.

"You may, but I would advise against it," he replied, and peered down to give her a side eye. "At least until they're drunk." He'd meant that as a joke, but she wasn't laughing. She only looked up at him worriedly. A small grin curled one corner of his mouth, and he looked away from her. "Show them you can handle yourself and that you have the confidence to do so." His tone was very neutral, but Sarah understood his intention. She looked away from him, to the floor, and gripped his arm once more. Confidence? she thought. How the hell was she supposed to have any type of confidence right now?

They reached the end of the hall and were met by a large set of double doors. They displayed deep, expressive carvings of faces —terrible, wicked faces which she recognized from memories and nightmares. She could hear the faint hum of collective cajoling on the other side. Laughing and chatter. Rushed footsteps and a distant, trickling melody.

As her eyes raked the doors from top to bottom, she noticed that the eyes on all of the faces were closed. Like they were sleeping. She and Jareth stood in silence for a moment; though, even knowing full well what was about to happen, she still startled when the faces suddenly woke and all their unnerving visages turned their attention straight to them.

Grimaces turned to grins as the myriad characters twisted within their prison.

"Ah. About time," one of the faces said. It turned sideways, seeming to twist the wood in a knot as it regarded them. And then another face turned, and another, and another. And it seemed...the doors were unlocking. "Welcome, Your Majesties," they all said together.

The doors opened by their own volition, the tenor and echo of their voices resounding into the room ahead. Sarah stood stiff at Jareth's side as the announcement caught the attention of all those inside and, in an instant, every movement and sound ceased.

Inhuman beings she did not recognize cast their gazes to her, and Jareth pulled her confidently into their fray.

There was a very short hallway leading into the room, which allowed her a moment to regard it.

The first thing she noticed was how many people were crammed into it. Arubella had told her there would only be around 60 or so guests, but the way most were huddled together made it seem like there were much more. The lounge, thankfully, was better lit than the hall —aided by a large crystal chandelier in the center and several tall candelabras in each corner. It was a very open space. As she very quickly scanned the room from one side to the other, she noted that all furniture was lined against the walls and consisted of plush chairs, couches, and one chaise. There was a traditional bar spanning the right wall, tended by an imp, and beyond it an archway which led into another room.

By the time they hit the threshold Sarah was near rigid with nerves. At least it kept her standing tall. There was a pause in Jareth's step, and Sarah looked over to see Hedwig standing against the wall just shy of her. He bowed very low and outstretched his arm in their direction.

"Presenting Her Majesty, The Queen, and His Majesty, The King," he said, and all men bowed while every lady dipped. Sarah gulped. She felt just as awkward now as she had at Davion's. The crowd replied the obligatory Long live the King, Long live the Queen, and then gradually straightened. Their eyes all remained lowered, but Sarah knew they were waiting for her cue.

She traced her eyes over each and every one of them, and then, stoically, turned sharply away. Turned her nose up in the air. Turned and brought a very impressed Jareth along with her. He stared at her from the corner of his eye and couldn't help but grin. Oh, she was so nervous. He could see it in the way she carried herself and the lock in her jaw. And yet, no one else would ever regard it as such. No, to them she looked poised. She looked regal. She was, in every aspect, their queen.

As if acting by her unspoken command, the crowd of fae turned their attention away and went back to their merrymaking, and a moment after the music picked back up too. Sarah exhaled very slowly as she led Jareth...somewhere. They were walking in silence, arm in arm along the left perimeter of the room. Thankfully, she did not need to decide on a destination—

"Your Majesties, welcome!" It was Eines who spoke, and with a great deal of mirth at that. He had his hands clasped together and ran his eyes all over Sarah like he was just so gosh-darn proud.

"Good evening, Lord Eines," Sarah said, taking on a very different cadence from her usual speech. She bit her cheek a little as she registered the sound of it. To her, and probably Jareth too, it sounded fake, forced. Damn these nerves.

"A good evening indeed," Eines replied, then placed a hand to his heart as he bowed. "My Queen, you look radiant. I apologize for abandoning you during dinner. I pray the good people of Sulana were able to entertain you in our absence?"

"Thank you. Yes. I actually had a lot of fun seeing the sights. You really do have a very lovely home, Lord Eines."

Eines straightened and, despite his eyes not quite crossing with hers, the depth of his gratitude passed wholly unto her.

"That really does mean...so much to me, Your Grace," he said.

"So, has the wall been successfully revamped? I hope there weren't any complications?" She turned and looked at Jareth, cueing him into the conversation. Jareth released her arm and instead placed his hand to the small of her back.

"All is well in fair Sulana once more," he said with affection.

"Yes. I must thank His Majesty once again. We are greatly indebted to you," Eines replied and bowed to Jareth.

"Continue to bring prosperity to the region and your debts will always be paid, Eines," Jareth said. He too had taken on a façade, the inclination in his voice mirroring her own. Sarah wondered how long they had to keep acting like this.

"You are most gracious, Your Majesty," Eines said, his voice lulling with a genuine sense of emotion, before peering to the side and perking up at whatever had caught his attention. He snapped his fingers and made a come hither gesture with his hand. "Amara. There you are. Come and greet Their Majesties."

Sarah glanced to the right just as Amara twitched and changed course. She was exiting the crowd, and turned on her heel at the sound of her father's voice. Sarah's eyes inspected her briefly, lowering from the beaded tiara in her —now tamed— hair, down to the pretty pink florals pinned to the bottom of her gown.

Her eyes crossed with Sarah's and she smiled as she approached.

"Good evening, Queen Sarah. You look so beautiful," she said and dipped her head respectfully. "And to you too, Your Majesty. You look very imposing together."

Sarah pursed her lips in amusement. That was kind of an odd way to phrase a compliment. Regardless, she knew from the fresh upturn in Jareth's smirk that it was one he appreciated.

"Thank you, Amara. You look quite lovely yourself," Sarah replied —forgetting Roldan's teachings entirely and wondering if Jareth would still be allowed to speak now that Amara had joined. Oh dear. Don't panic now.

Amara's grin beamed and she bounced on her toes.

"You are so kind, Queen Sarah."

Eines took a step towards her and grasped her by the elbow. She looked up to him and laced their arms together.

"I know you may still be unfamiliar with our ways, Your Majesty, but I hope you are able to enjoy yourself tonight," Eines said. "Our friends and neighbors have all gathered to honor you. It is my wish that you feel as highly as we regard you. So please, if there is anything at all you desire, do not hesitate."

"Oh yes —well put, Father. We are at Your Majesties' disposal and look forward to serving you," Amara added.

Sarah smiled very softly at such kind and heartfelt words, and she felt some of her lingering tension dissipate.

"Thank you. The way you've welcomed me into your home has...meant a great deal to me. I'll do my best to have some fun. I hope the both of you will as well."

A quick smile flashed across Eines's face, and he inclined his head towards her one more time.

"As you wish it." Then he looked away and placed his hand over top Amara's. "Come, let us not be greedy," he said to her.

Amara nodded in agreement and turned her attention back to Sarah and Jareth as she curtsied.

"Farewell Your Majesties. May our paths cross again soon."

Eines bowed as well, and then the two of them left. Sarah stared after them for a prolonged moment, distracted, and feeling a little wistful as Jareth regarded her.

"You're doing very well," he said, and she looked over at him.

"Thank you," she replied, clipped but kind. She shivered at the feel of his knuckles running up and down her spine.

"I told you, you would be a natural. Even your pheromones are perfectly in check."

He was distracted by feelings of admiration, and so didn't notice the visceral freeze that swept over her in that split second. She smoothed it away just as quickly, but the panic it brought took a bit longer to abate. Seriously? He had to mention her pheromones? Now? During all of this? For the last 36 hours she'd been aggressively monitoring her output lest any accidental baby signals worm their way out. Apparently, and thankfully, she'd been successful but —damn it, that was not what she wanted to be thinking about right now.

"That's good…" she said, unevenly, and roamed her eyes low and to the side. Jareth reached up to brush her hair from her neck.

"We'll probably be ambushed throughout the night. But, I agree with Eines. I'd like for you to try and enjoy yourself. You've seemed...off since we left the Alvari."

And now she closed her eyes. She was still looking away from him, so he didn't see the ghost of a cringe she was able to suppress. He wasn't pulling any punches, was he? Starting to feel frustrated with herself all over again, she instead crammed each and every one of those feelings into a tiny box in the back of her mind and turned back to Jareth with a (hopefully) reassuring smile.

"I know. I just...didn't feel very well yesterday. That mead really kicked me in the ass."

She held his stare, and was determined to do so, until she was sure he was convinced. He didn't say anything right away, and she wondered if maybe he'd seen through her lie. That was when she realized that she was in fact lying, that she was keeping something from him that he had every right to know about. She began to feel a little panicky, anxious musings bubbling up from the well of internal conflict she was nursing so studiously. She imagined that feeling would only get worse the longer she stalled. And, from the —now scrutinizing— look she regarded in his eye, she imagined she was probably digging her own grave.

"So you showed up after all. I'm surprised."

Broken from her dread, Sarah looked over at Roldan, who now stood in front of them. Jareth, whose attention was less eager to shift, looked away from her and over at Roldan gradually.

"And listen to you gripe about it on the way back? I think not," Jareth said sarcastically. Sarah, worried on a number of levels, kept darting her eyes to Jareth meekly. He'd just broken etiquette by speaking out of turn, which, while not out of character, was something she was not expecting. Was he angry? Bothered? He didn't look particularly suspicious...maybe it was fine.

Roldan, not at all phased by Jareth's lack of manners, shrugged dismissively before running a hand through slicked-back hair.

"It's good to know my efforts are not always in vain," he said, and took a sip from his drink. Sarah's increasingly overactive nose picked up on the waft of wine from his cup, from the multitude of cups moving about the room, and she felt her stomach curl.

"Have you seen Mariella, Roldan?" she asked. Roldan glanced to the side across the dance floor.

"Not yet. Although, I only just arrived myself."

Sarah pursed her lips and inspected the crowd. She was losing the little confidence she had more quickly than anticipated, and sought out Marie's support with a hidden sense of desperation.

"What's in that other room?" she asked, eyes landing on the brightly lit archway now diagonal to them. Roldan turned back to look at it as well.

"Food. A buffet. Mostly deserts. There's a smoking parlor across from it as well," he informed, then glanced back at Jareth. "Fancy a bit of gambling tonight?"

Sarah, curious over a hobby she did not know Jareth had, looked back at him as he responded.

"We'll see," he said, not sounding interested in one way or another. As he and Roldan talked, Sarah found herself frowning. She should probably avoid being around second hand smoke...she hoped that wouldn't be something Jareth would overly interrogate her about.

Having zoned out, she was no longer aware of whatever was being said. She blinked back to attention however when Roldan looked passed her and pointed.

"Ah. Look. There comes your lady now."

Sarah glanced back over her shoulder and searched through the crowd. There were a few clusters of people chatting as they watched the people dancing. Among them was one such nymph, currently batting her lashes and smiling widely at a man or two who were trailing after her. After catching Sarah's gaze, her look changed, became polite, and Sarah could tell she was telling her suitors thank you, no, before patting them each on the hand and leaving them be.

She approached looking a little relieved, but also embarrassed, and she bowed to Sarah and Jareth respectively.

She'd changed out of her gown from earlier. The garment she wore now was a rich plum color. It had thin, spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline. It was an A line cut, with a loose, flowing skirt that sparkled when she moved.

"Hello again, Your Majesties," she said merrily as she straightened, and then her expression widened when she looked at Roldan. "Oh. Master Roldan, don't you look dapper tonight."

Sarah looked back just as Roldan instinctively glanced over himself. He didn't look particularly impressed.

"If you say so."

He was wearing nearly the same outfit from earlier. The only changes he'd made were to a more embellished waistcoat and a long tailed dress coat. Both were black. Almost everything he owned was black. He'd also gone out of his way to style his hair. It was pushed back out of his face, the natural curl looking a bit more polished and uniform.

Mariella, not to be deterred by Roldan's flaccid response, turned her sights on Jareth next.

"His Majesty looks very handsome tonight as well," she added, speaking through Sarah. Sarah blinked and peeked up at him.

"Uh-huh…"

Jareth, catching the way her bashful little eyes regarded him so brazenly, grinned as a spark of playfulness returned.

"Thanks. Sarah did it," he said, and she could not help but grin.


As foretold, the King and Queen were strategically prowled and pounced on for the next hour or two. Not by everyone, thank God, but the local lords were company enough. They were of course obligated to present themselves, so Sarah gave them the benefit of the doubt. Luckily, there were only five of them -or five families rather. She'd met the lords and their spouses at the wedding celebration, so talking with them was a little easier this time. But now they also introduced their children, grandchildren...great grandchildren (all of whom were adults), and a few other random branches on the family tree who happened to be lucky enough to be there that night. She'd also met Eines's sheriffs, the ones who presided over the Vanti and Gaed districts in Eines's stead. They were nice. Everyone was nice. Insufferably nice, actually. Was this the level of ass-kissing Jareth had to deal with on the regular? No wonder he was such a homebody.

The tension Sarah felt in the room calmed after official greetings were out of the way and she was finally allowed to actually enjoy herself. Jareth seemed a little more at ease as well, whatever weird blip of worry she'd felt from earlier having faded alongside everyone else's lucidity.

There was a lot of alcohol being passed around. The smell of it only became more and more prevalent to her. In fact, as she spied on the lot of them, she suspected she was the only one not imbibing. She kept close guard on her water cup, tapping a contemplative finger against it every now and then.

Currently, she and Jareth were in the midst of conversation with Lord Hadrin of the Shoan district. He was Eines's neighbor to the north, and was explaining to her the intricacies of the locally revered sport of Skuttle Jumping.

"Oh, wow. That sounds...extremely dangerous," Sarah said, looking and sounding skeptical as she peered up at Jareth. He shot her a grin and tightened the hand he held at her hip. Lord Hadrin laughed and nodded.

"Yes...it very much is. We lose about five or so players a year, but that's part of the fun," he said, his smile stretching excitedly. Sarah laughed awkwardly.

"Yeah. I myself jump at the chance to gamble with certain death," she said, straining to keep her returning smile polite. She looked away, wondering where Mariella and Roldan had drifted off to, and then the room was distracted by a loud clinking of knife on glass.

Sarah looked up and to the far end of the room, where she saw Eines standing next to a rather shy looking Amara. They were in front of a piano, the black silhouette of which framed them well despite the surrounding crowd.

"Pardon the interruption. It's getting to be that time, but I know the last thing you want is to hear a speech from me," Eines said, good-naturedly, and dipped his head while more than a few fae chuckled. "But alas, dear friends, neighbors, let us extend our love to our sovereigns. Let us show our gratitude and thank them for the honor of their visit." and he outstretched a hand towards them. The crowd followed and stared. Sarah blanched. Once again, they all bowed before her. Eines, smiling so widely, placed a hand against Amara's back as he offered them a toast. "Long live Their Majesties."

The crowd repeated him and the combined sound was much louder than she expected. Sarah stood a little stiff against all the attention. While the group chanted, Eines turned away and spoke quietly to Amara, who nodded and then left to sit at the piano.

"Your Majesties, to express our appreciation, my daughter would like to play for you. I hope you enjoy." He bowed one more time and then briskly walked out of the way. The crowd now turned its attention to Amara. Marie returned, joining Sarah quietly at her side, and they exchanged equal looks of intrigue.

Amara, looking so small all the way on the far end of the room, angled her head downward as she licked her lips. She placed her hands on the keys, hesitated, but then —true to her nature— huffed the butterflies away and, with a calm smile, began to play.

It started slow. Just a few low chords. There was no melody. No clear direction or sense of urgency. Sarah's brow drew together as she watched and listened. And then it stopped.

There was silence, but it was commanding. Amara's hands pulled away. Sarah could see something of a frown on her face and, just as Sarah wondered what in the world she could be feeling, she brought her hands back to the keys.

Sarah could actually count the heads, many of which had not been previously paying attention, turn in succession at what came next.

The harmony was low, a deep, somber sound. But now there came melody. And it was high and sweet. A repetitive dance. It was very concise, but that simplicity only gave it a more cutting effect. The room fell to utter silence. Every single eye trained on her.

And then it traveled. The harmony quickened and Sarah felt as if she was being pulled along with it. She felt a pressure in her chest, something alien and deeply upsetting being taken from her. It was compulsive and strangely familiar. She didn't understand it. She'd...never felt this way about a piece of music before.

The song was lovely in how it took its time. In how it waited on no one and seemed to wander in and out of the ears of figures who all stood as still as she. Amara's eyes had closed, her expression falling to something of repose as she continued to play.

Sarah reached up and gripped Jareth by the sleeve. He had been watching keenly as well, but not to the same emotional degree. He glanced down at the gesture and saw her eyes had turned glassy.

There was another slowing of melody and the briefest of pauses. Sarah felt her breath hitch when it became quiet and then quickly started up again.

Amara's hands traveled the keys up and down, the sound they elicited more lively. The melody, once sweet and somber, was now uplifting and ignited a feeling of hope in its listeners. Sarah wondered what it meant, and more importantly why she was reacting so strongly to it, but did not bother to ponder too deeply. She simply couldn't. She was forced to listen.

The melody changed. Gained a higher octave. And suddenly she felt like she was running. Like she was heading into a light that welcomed her with as much love and promise and it did uncertainty. A small rock formed in her throat and, as she blinked for the first time since Amara had started playing, she realized she was on the verge of tears. Jareth, watching her closely all the while, frowned in confusion and moved his arm to stroke along her back.

This new sound carried on, keeping her on the precipice of emotions she could not name, and then, with mercy, it slowed. It lulled. It faded back into those low, deep notes.

Amara pulled her hands away again, sighing, and then seemed to play it all over again. The original melody was back, crisp and clean, but for some reason it held new meaning. It had gained substance over its journey.

The song hit a bridge and seemed to combine both paths, the quiet sadness of the beginning with the hopeful ascension of the middle. The tempo quickened, the tenor grew louder. Amara's hands moved with more passion and Sarah stood dumbly, barely able to withstand it.

In contrast to that awe inspiring moment, the sound immediately retracted, quieted, slowed once more, and to Sarah it felt like the piece of her that had been taken was now being given back. There were a few slow chords, a little trickle of melody, and then it all faded. Ended. And the room, with all it's earlier skepticism, stared on in revered silence.

Amara placed her hands in her lap and turned, a soft smile on her face as she bowed low to Sarah.

Sarah wasn't sure what she was expected to do, what would be considered proper queen behavior —but that implied she had the capacity to care at the moment. The room was still silent. A few faces, following Amara's lead, had turned back to her as well. She sucked in a breath and fervidly clapped her hands.

A few fae faces looked confused by the gesture, but she was The Queen. And so, with much uncertainty, they all turned back around and clapped as well.

Amara's eyes darted and she looked suddenly panicked as the attention was cast back to her. She smiled, widely this time, and bowed her head once more before turning back to the piano. She looked much more chipper, and the song she played next reflected the mood perfectly.

It was pointed. High. Quick but delicate. By the time the harmony was added, the bouncy, ambient rhythm was enough to lift the tone of the entire room. Partygoers looked away from her pedestal, their conversations resuming as a few lively dancers invented ways of twirling their partners to it. The resonance of chatter began to overpower that of the piano, and Sarah thought, with severe dissatisfaction, that this song, while lacking the emotional provocation of the first piece, was still equally impressive and deserved their ongoing attention.

"Are you alright?"

Sarah glared over at Jareth. She did not mean to. It was simply the look on her face. She saw that there was a tug on his brow. A look of concern that made her acknowledge her own peculiar state of wellbeing.

"I…" she started and had to stop. Speaking had roused her idle tears. Mariella, taking her attention away from the piano at the sound of Sarah's voice, mirrored Jareth in an expression of worry. Sarah blinked, smiled, and wiped a tear from her eye. "I'm sorry. That song just really got to me, I guess," and she looked up at Lord Hadrin, her smile turning apologetic. "Please excuse me for a moment while I compose myself." She spoke very politely and turned on a dime. Lord Hadrin bowed, looking just as confused as everyone else. She paused before leaving, stealing a glance up at Jareth as she brushed passed his shoulder. "Please don't follow me," she said, hushed, and briskly walked away.

Jareth stood beside himself as he stared after her. What the hell? Did she really think he wouldn't come after her?

"Your Majesty—"

Jareth looked over at a very shrewd and beseeching looking Marie. His eyes narrowed on her. She didn't need to speak to convey what she was thinking, what her eyes on him alone were imploring. She was urging him to behave, and, with a quick look to Lord Hadrin, reminded him that there were witnesses nearby who needed reassurance. Under normal circumstances he would not care. Even now, he cared very little. However, Sarah was Queen now and had technically given him an order. The nymph was right, as much as he loathed to admit it. There were witnesses and, for the sake of her reputation, he was bound to obey her.

Conceding what he told himself was a small matter, Jareth's expression twitched into a smile which he turned towards Hadrin.


Sarah walked towards a door farther down the room. It led to a patio, and she thought the privacy and night air would do her some good.

She didn't know why she was so upset. Why that song had affected her so acutely. No one else seemed to regard it the same. No one but the person who played it.

There were a couple of people loitering by the door, people who promptly bowed and left once Sarah arrived.

After exiting the claustrophobic energy of the manor, Sarah closed her eyes and took a very deep breath. As hoped, the air here was easier to breathe, crisp, cold. She took a few steps across the slate tiles and inclined her head towards the moon. It hung brightly tonight. A sharp crescent. The strength of its glow pushed through wandering clouds and painted the sky around it in soft blue tones. It was lovely. As always.

The sounds behind her became more distant. The feeling in her chest settled. And, as the seconds passed, she was surprised to still be alone. She had ordered Jareth but...she really didn't expect him to listen. She inferred that his absence meant he was probably angry with her, but she was too fragile to be picked apart by him right now. Too troubled and possibly hormonal—

"Your Majesty? Are you alright?"

Sarah turned around. She'd only made it a few feet from the door, so it was easy for Eines to spot her as he walked by. He looked concerned, but not with the same intensity as Jareth had. Sarah forced a smile and nodded.

"Yeah. I just...needed some air," she said and shrugged. Eines peered around, looking for spies she gathered, before crossing the threshold and joining her on the patio.

"I'm sure. Gatherings like this sometimes make me feel a little fettered too," he said. Sarah smiled as she glanced down at the floor.

"Yeah...I'm pretty new to all this. But...that's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?"

"No. It was just...the song Amara played. I don't know…" Eines observed the way she looked downward with discomfort and he tensed a little bit, hoping they hadn't displeased her.

"Forgive us...from the way you reacted I thought you enjoyed it—"

"Oh, I did," she was quick to say, her head darting up on reflex. Eines hesitated, confusion blatantly wrought across his face. Sarah bit her lip and furrowed her brow deeply. "I thought it was incredibly beautiful, actually. It's just...making me a little emotional for some reason. That's why I came out here. Wouldn't do for The Queen to be seen crying, I'm guessing," she said, awkwardly glancing away and turning her back on him. She faced the moon again. Eines, now in understanding, took a step forward to stand at her side.

"Ah, I see. Well, then I am glad." He took a sip of his drink before continuing. "Amara will be pleased as well. She wrote it for you, after all."

Sarah's eyes veered over to Eines sharply.

"What? She wrote that?"

Eines smiled into his cup in reaction to her shocked tone.

"Indeed. Tonight was its debut. She is...very talented, no?"

The pride in his voice was subdued but there all the same. Now, for whatever reason, Sarah felt that earlier wave of emotion returning.

"She's...she's amazing."

"I'm glad you agree," Eines replied, quietly, and stared at the floor. "She wants to be a composer —er, forgive me, she is a composer; although she no longer exhibits. It's been her passion since she was a child. I can still remember the first time she played for us. It was remarkable really, for having such tiny hands and all. We were so awed, my wife and I practically shipped her off to the finest academy on the continent the following day." He spoke with a light laugh, but the sound was wayward, sad, and carried a subtlety of tone that had her looking over at him again.

"Really? I didn't know...women could have carriers like that here," she said. Eines shrugged and carried on.

"Oh yes. She's actually published many pieces. Enough for a volume or two. Things were looking very promising but...she decided to step back from it when her mother died." Sarah frowned. She wanted to ask the obvious, but knew if she was patient Eines would fill her in all on his own. "I want her to live her life as she chooses. If she chooses to stay here, then I am happy. I only...sometimes I worry she feels obligated. Like she feels she needs to take care of me. As a parent, that is the last thing I want."

"I get it," Sarah replied, staring up at him with a disconcerted look. She could hear Amara's melody still playing in the back of her head, hear the sadness and the longing in it. It felt...recognizable. "Amara is...very forthcoming about herself and you. She told me what happened to your wife. I'm sorry for your loss. I'm also sorry...about what happened with your father."

Sarah's eyes had fallen sullen and she glanced away just as a tick moved through Eines's smile. He wasn't expecting to hear that. He wasn't expecting her to sound so genuine in her sympathy.

"Thank you." He looked down and watched his drink swirl in his cup as he sloshed it, a happy look of disbelief on his face. "You know...I remember when Jareth came to welcome us back to court," he said, catching Sarah's gaze with an awkward shrug as she looked over at him. "It was the only time I've seen my father cry." He took a step and looked away. Sarah, victim to curiosity, took a step after him. "I didn't understand back then why it was so important. Our way of life has always been...isolated. Still, I think I've since come to grasp the extent of what he was feeling that day." He stopped pacing and exhaled as he looked up at the moon. He looked like he was reliving a memory, one Sarah wished she could somehow see as well.

"My father loved Thaelon. Even after Thaelon no longer loved him back. He loved Jareth too. And I remember...I remember one day, out of the blue, he just...showed up on our doorstep. The King! A king whom he had not seen in centuries. I don't know what was said between them, but I know the look I saw on my father's face. A look I had never seen before. Gratitude. Sheer, shameless gratitude. Because of that look alone I dedicated myself to your husband's reign. Because my father admired him, I admired him. And, as I grew older, as I came to understand the changes he was putting our country through, I came to love him in my own right." He paused and looked down, locking eyes with Sarah brazenly. She looked worried, confused. He smiled. "Your tenderness towards my family means the world to me, Your Majesty, and I will continue to serve the both of you unquestioningly. My only ambition is to honor my father's legacy. And my father...would want me to honor our king." His grin curled a little and he winked. "And that means our queen now, as well."

Sarah stood a little speechless for a few seconds. Her mouth opened and she looked away.

"Eines, I...I really don't know what to say." And she really didn't. Honestly, she knew very little about the way the current Goblin Kingdom functioned as compared to the last. Some of the laws she'd learned about were just plain backwards, but it seemed the people were benefitting nonetheless. Maybe she should have shown more enthusiasm for Roldan's brief on Goblin infrastructure...

"Consider such feelings my way of saying thanks," Eines replied. Sarah looked up at him. "You have come all this way and so graciously repaired our barrier. People may have died had His Majesty not come to our aid. Our town might have been attacked again had he not taken it upon himself to defend us. And to think, he goes out of his way to do so every century. This region is lucky to be alive. Never doubt that you have all of our love—"

"Father? Are you out here?"

Sarah and Eines looked to the right at the curious head of Amara poking around the doorframe. She spotted them and smiled as she joined them on the patio.

"Oh. Queen Sarah, you're out here too?" she asked, merrily, and came to stand close to her father's side.

"Yeah, I needed some fresh air," Sarah replied. Eines looked down at his daughter.

"You look a little tense. Everything alright, Amara?"

"Madam Lauris is having some trouble in the kitchen it seems. Someone left a door open and now there are fairies getting into the cakes," she explained. She sounded very serious but Sarah almost laughed. Especially at the level of alarm she now saw widening Eines's eyes.

He sighed very roughly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Again?" he asked, incredulously, and shook his head. "Very well. I'll see to it," and he turned back to Sarah with an apologetic strain to his smile. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. It seems I have an impending disaster to avert."

"Oh, um, it's no problem. Go ahead," she said, waving nonchalantly. He dipped his head again and exhaled sharply through his nose as he turned and stormed away. He looked flustered. Sarah tried her damnedest not to smile. "So uh...fairies in the cake is bad, I take it?" She turned to Amara after a second of silence. Amara's brow lifted high up her forehead and her eyes widened.

"Very bad. Sugar is like alcohol to them. It won't be long before they're drunk and swarming the rest of the buffet. Nasty little things they are. And quite vulgar too." Amara shivered as, what Sarah imagined to be, a very unpleasant memory darted to and from her mind. Sarah stifled another grin.

"Ah. Of course." She looked away and spied on the party she was missing, then intrusively wondered what Jareth was doing. She'd been out here for a few minutes now and had yet to be accosted. Maybe he was spying on her, she thought. Maybe she should be searching for owls in the trees. "That song you played was really beautiful, by the way. You have a tremendous gift," she said, and looked over to meet Amara in the eye. "I was...very moved."

Amara's face lit up to such a degree she actually became taller as her chest puffed up.

"Really? Oh I'm so glad to hear you say that. I was so nervous. Thank you, Queen Sarah." She clasped her hands together and shook them in a gesture of gratitude. Sarah finally let her smile show through.

"Just Sarah is fine."

Amara stared at her, blinked, and then nodded. "Right. Just Sarah."

"Your father said you wrote that?" Sarah asked. Amara's eyes darted away and her smile cocked on one side. Something Sarah now recognized as a hereditary expression of bashfulness.

"Yes. It's a hobby," she replied with a shrug. Sarah admired her humility, and then her eyes lowered.

"Can I ask...what inspired you?"

She was staring downward, her gaze cast through Amara while her attention turned introspective. She wasn't ready for Amara's reply.

"Oh. Well...you did." Sarah looked up to find Amara's returning stare quizzical. She looked away again as she elaborated: "When we first heard word that His Majesty was taking a bride, we were all so excited. Everyone was celebrating. Some literally in the streets," she said, and awkwardly laughed to herself as she rolled her eyes. Then she glanced upward and fondled a tendril of hair.

"After the incident happened, my father said you both would be coming here in person so I thought I would write something for you —to welcome you here. I asked my father if he knew anything about you, but all he said was that you were a bride of conquest." Then she angled herself away. "There are not many conquest marriages. Which was why I found it so strange that no one seemed to care that yours is one. No one had any interest in talking about that. It got me thinking, got me wondering —about you, about your world. I've never been to the Above, you know." And then she turned back and looked Sarah straight in the eye.

"I wondered what kind of life you had, the people who were in it, the customs you practiced, what kind of holidays you celebrated and even the food you ate, and—" She cut herself short and Sarah observed the way her reflexive smile faded. Her brow turned down and her posture relaxed. "—and then...well, I was no longer feeling so excited." She was looking a little bothered now, which did not quite make sense to Sarah. She was about to reply but Amara beat her to it. "You had to leave all of them behind, didn't you? Your family? Your friends? Your home?" she asked. Again, Sarah felt the urge to reply but the rhetoric in her tone kept her quiet. Amara regarded Sarah's expression very astutely, and pursed her lips as she looked away.

"I suppose that's what it means to be a conquest. Seems a bit daunting to me, noteworthy at the least. So I tried to put myself in your shoes: what if I were to marry someone from the Above? What if I had to abandon my home and my pursuits. I tried to imagine what it would be like to leave behind everything that you had and knew for something else. Something ill-defined that might be...considered as strange and unwelcoming as I was considering the Aboveground to be. Thinking of these things made me very sad and I realized that I was the only one around me harboring such thoughts. Everyone else was so excited. And I just kept thinking...if what I was vicariously feeling was anything close to how you were actually feeling...how terribly lonely that must have been."

Amara paused, her eyes —having since fallen to the floor— slowly raised back to Sarah's. Sarah was surprised to regard a real sense of understanding there. Empathy. And she felt an unwelcome twinge of anxiety flare in her chest in reaction to it. She could feel the emotion building again. Whatever the hell it was she'd felt during the song nearing crescendo. Sarah did her best to swallow it back down.

"Honestly, it reminded me of my mother," Amara carried on. "Of the way it felt when I lost her. When I was forced to push forward in a world without her. In a world that did not notice the loneliness and resentment that moment might have spurred in me. I pondered the applications of grief and concluded that...it really is a journey, isn't it?" Again with the rhetorical questions. Sarah remained silent. Amara didn't notice it was because she was now holding back a sob. "That's what I wanted to capture in the music. The trials. The tribulations. The memories. But also the adventure. It is...bittersweet in a sense. To have such bright opportunities before you and yet carry a feeling of near-insurmountable loss for your past self." She stopped again and pointed a finger in the air to emphasize her next point.

"But I thought it important not to get stuck on those things because, while it may be near, it is not insurmountable. I miss my mother, as I'm sure you miss your family, but the end should be uplifting, shouldn't it? It should be hopeful. It should be worth it. When I look to the future, I am excited for whatever awaits me. I can feel this way precisely because of the foundation my past provides —as painful as it is. It's important not to forget. It's important to remember all of the things, whether of pleasure or pain, that brought us here, because it helps us appreciate the here all the more. And I think it's our responsibility to use those instances to build a brighter future for ourselves. A future that the ones we left behind would be proud of. That's really...what I wanted the music to say…the types of feelings I wanted to evoke. I have no idea if I was successful, really. I suppose so long as you enjoyed it, it doesn't matter. But look at me, going on and on when I should just ask you. What do you think about it, Sarah?"

Amara, taking tiny paces from side to side as she mused, was not at all regarding the state of her queen throughout. She looked up when she finished speaking, with wide open eyes that were not at all prepared for what awaited her.

Sarah was standing as stiff as a plank. Her jaw clenched so tightly she could see the muscle protruding in her cheek. Her hands fisted at her sides and, just as Amara caught onto the wet glimmer reflecting the moonlight sharply in Sarah's eyes, the walls came crashing down.

"Amara, I-" Sarah spoke, the words passing over her teeth as a rough, broken sound. Whatever remained choked in her throat and she grimaced as a sharp inhale lifted her chest. She tensed her hands and a faint sob escaped her. That sound was immediately followed by trembling shoulders and a string of tears that then plummeted, hopelessly, down her face.

Amara's eyes widened and she reached out instinctively.

"Q-queen Sarah?" she said, but it was too late. Sarah screwed her eyes shut as she pulled Amara forward and hugged her for all she was worth. She cried into her shoulder, fully aware of how undignified she was being and not having the slightest care. "Your Majesty, are you alright? Have I upset you?" Amara sounded worried, dubious. Sarah didn't blame her. This was no way for a queen to act. Sarah squeezed her tighter and shook her head.

"No...no. You...you just really hit the nail on the fucking head, Amara," she said, forcing out the words through a clenched jaw and a heavy mat of hair. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

A part of her was deeply embarrassed. She hardly knew this girl and here she was, unbridled and losing all of her shit. She just couldn't help it. She was so stressed, so worried. On edge and confused. She wasn't expecting...any of it.

Amara, finally understanding what was happening, felt her panic lull as she gently hugged Sarah back.

"You're welcome, Queen Sarah." Her voice was soft, earnest, and was as tender and sincere as her embrace. Sarah didn't care if they were strangers. She needed this. She needed this to a degree she quite plainly never even realized.

She curled her hands in Amara's hair as she settled down, and in the wake of such an outburst of turmoil she actually felt a great deal lighter. She now knew, deep down, that the reason she'd reacted so strongly was because this was something she could never properly express to Jareth. He was, after all, the one who'd caused such rift in her. Even if he held her, and pet her, and spoke tenderly, not all the "I'm sorry's" in the world could detract from the fact that she was still separated from her family. That she still had yet to be given a real choice. She'd been ignoring it for so long, but the voice in Amara's playing brought it all back. She missed her family. She missed her family and now she was about to create a new one to replace them. She hated that. She hated how alone she now felt.

After a few moments, Sarah quieted down and forced herself to pull away. The door was still open and anyone could be watching. Amara lowered her arms and waited patiently for her cue. Sarah held her at arm's length and then reluctantly let go.

"While I'm glad you were able to connect with the music, it was really not my hope to bring you to tears. At least, not to such a degree," she said, trying to lighten the mood. Sarah sniffled and wiped a knuckle under her eye. Shit. Her makeup was probably running.

"Yeah...I kind of lost it just now. I'm sorry. I've been...kind of stressed lately." She kept her eyes averted and, for a split second, Amara did not see her as a queen. She looked like an ordinary girl. Someone prone to the same shortcomings as anyone else. And then Amara smiled. While that may be true, this girl was far from ordinary.

She reached out and dared to brush the hair from her face.

"Understandably."

There was something just so nice about the sound of Amara's voice. It comforted her. Sarah closed her eyes and scowled, cursing herself for becoming so compromised.

"Listen," Sarah said, and shook her head a little. "—before I fall apart completely, there's something I wanted to ask you." She hardened her voice and stood a little straighter as she sniffled again. She held her chin high, kept her eyes staring straight ahead. Amara pursed her lips.

"Okay."

"I don't want you to feel pressured at all because I'm a blubbering mess right now, but…" and she pressed an index finger into the corner of her eye. Goddamn. She was making such a fool of herself right now...well, best to get it over with. "Would you maybe consider coming back to the capital with us? To be one of my ladies?"

She spoke quickly, looking suddenly aggressive as she stared at Amara. Amara's eyes widened and darted. The surprise in her reaction was more than evident.

"Ah-wh-"

"I mean, I know we just met so I understand if you say no," Sarah interrupted in a nervous ramble. "I'm not going to compel you or anything. You've got a pretty great setup here and I know you and your dad are close. I don't want to take that from you. I just...you're right. It was really hard at first. And it still gets lonely sometimes. And I feel bad for Marie. She's great. She's been a rock for me when things are at their worst and I love her for it...but I worry she's lonely too and I feel so bad about it. We had a really fun time with you today, so we were thinking. I don't know, maybe just—"

"Queen Sarah?" Sarah peered up and locked eyes with Amara. Her stammering cut itself short at the deeply fervid expression that met her. Amara's smile widened and her hands slowly turned into excited little fists. "Yes."


By the time Sarah and Amara finally rejoined the party, suspicion over the ongoing and deeply unsettling absence of her husband was having a nasty way with her. She actually felt wary. Like he would pounce on her the moment she crossed the threshold. This did not happen, however. No, actually, she could not find him at all.

Amara excused herself to share the news with her father, so Sarah was on her own. She looked around for Jareth, then Marie, then Roldan, and felt very flustered when such cursory efforts were in vain.

The room was small, so she imagined they had to be somewhere else. Maybe Jareth had taken up that game of poker after all? She doubted the thought as she wandered through the room. She could not imagine Jareth disregarding her like that when surrounded by fae in unfamiliar territory. But...wasn't that hypocritical of her? She had ordered him not to follow her and, if anything, Jareth had a definite penchant for retaliation.

She stopped her meandering and placed an uneasy hand over her stomach, feeling suddenly displeased with the entire situation—

"Ah, Her Majesty has arrived at long last."

Sarah looked over sharply at a group of finely dressed faefolk lounging at an elevation much lower than her. She recognized the woman who'd spoken as Lordess Ailtheth, who was accompanied by Lord Kaellen and his first wife Lady Ruen. They were all sitting in chairs in an alcove of bay windows just shy of her, so she hadn't noticed them right away. Sarah stared dumbly for a moment, wondering why they had put her on the spot like that when no one else dared. And then she noticed the final member of the group. The one she'd been looking for and who was now staring at her with a very unhappy but otherwise unreadable expression.

Lordess Ailtheth and Lady Ruen bowed their heads to her, as did Lord Kaellen a moment after.

Sarah, still standing speechless with eyes seared to Jareth's, opened her mouth and took in a breath before breaking that line of tension in favor of the womens'.

"Lordess Ailtheth, Lady Ruen, hello again." She spoke pleasantly and joined by taking the open seat next to Jareth's. He said nothing of course, which made it impossible to properly discern whether or not he was angry with her. Feeling a prickling awareness stabbing into her brain on the side where he was surely giving her a side eye, she went with the probable yes and slapped on a smile. "Are you and Lord Kaellen enjoying the reception?" she asked. Ailtheth nodded and smiled at Jareth.

"We are having a marvelous time. His Majesty is such fine company," she said, a little too sweetly. Sarah wondered if there was any history there. Probably.

"Agreed," Lady Ruen added, then latched onto her husband's arm. "My Kaellen was telling us some riveting stories just now. Would you like to join us, Your Majesty?"

"Of course. I'd be delighted."

The women smiled cheerfully and turned to face Lord Kaellen. He was an older man. He looked middle aged and she knew from Roldan's classes that he was considered that even by fae standards. He'd been alive to see the passing reigns of several goblin kings, which Sarah considered to be a grand feat in and of itself. Although, seeing him now, red-nosed and glass-eyed, he did not come off quite so dignified.

"Well, I suppose now the pressure is on!" Kaellen said, clearing his throat as he pressed a possessive hand to his wife's back. "Let's see...where was I just now...ah, yes. So we were running through the woods without our breeches and-"

While Lord Kaellen's story was undoubtedly riveting, Sarah found herself incapable of listening to it. Instead, she slyly turned her attention over to Jareth. He was more than silent. He was broody. She could recognize that plainly. He sat slouched in his hair with a goblet of wine weighing one hand. He stared intently at Kaellen, and Sarah suspected, worried, that it was in the effort to not look back at her.

Sarah frowned, unsure of what to do. In the end, they had an image to present; so she reached out and clasped his free hand as she focused on Kaellen. The gesture caught the eyes of both ladies, though Jareth was entirely unresponsive.

Jareth glowered at the wall behind Kaellen as formless words went in one ear and out the other. He was frustrated, seething in all honesty, but it was an emotion he kept well shackled. He didn't anticipate being so angry with her when she came back. He didn't anticipate being so angry with himself.

When she'd left earlier, he'd indulged her servant for as long as was necessary before deftly seeking her out. He felt slighted. Challenged. He had not been publicly commanded like that since his parents were alive and the feeling it brought back...was not a good one.

Why the hell did she order him anyway? She was quite obviously upset and it offended him that she would deny his comfort in lieu for...for what?

He'd found her very quickly on the patio just outside the reception hall. She was speaking with Eines and Amara, and that miffed him even more.

After a minute, Eines left and Jareth had expected the other two to follow. He could already feel the tension in his hand building as it itched to grab her and drag her into seclusion. He waited and, when nothing happened, he looked back through a window to see them still talking. Sarah was standing with her back to him, but he could discern a considerable amount of tension from her posture. So she was still upset, was she? Why?! He wanted to confront her. In fact, he was planning on doing just that when Eines's daughter started talking again.

This time he actually listened to what was said and...his anger snuffed itself out entirely.

They were talking about her family. They were talking about him taking her from them. The way Amara spoke felt foreign to him. Nonsensical. He felt no such affinity towards either of his parents. And he realized, much too late, that maybe that was why he'd been unable to see how deeply this had been affecting his wife.

It seemed every time he allowed himself to feel happiness, another demon crawled out from their past to pull him from it. He felt all sense of passion flee as he heard her break into tears. As he listened to her lament in a way that she would not give him the chance to console her from.

By then his hands were fisting at his sides as new thoughts of admonishment and anger swept through. There was always something to regret. Always something he had done wrong. Something he could not fix. Honestly, he'd never given a damn about her family and had expected her to forget them just as he had his own. That was a mistake it seemed, and had grown into a wall he was hesitant to climb.

Disillusioned, he left her there. He gave up. Let go. Gave her an ounce of the freedom she still lacked though was quite obviously pining for. He wondered what he could do, how many stars he could align before it started to matter.

He loved her, and he thought she loved him back. Maybe she did. He wanted to believe that, believe it to the point of despair, but the sound of her tears made him wonder if this was still just a matter of survival to her. She would rather seek comfort in the arms of a stranger than him. After everything, there were still parts of herself she would not give. He hated it. He hated that he now understood the reason why.

He'd brooded for one moment too long, standing still like that, alone, against a wall. It made him a perfect target for Ailtheth and friends. On an impulse of self pity, he allowed them to join him. They talked negligible nonsense, but entertained themselves well enough. Instead he spied on Sarah when she reentered the room, watching, with some degree of satisfaction, as she wandered around aimlessly in search of her captor.

She'd reached out and clasped his hand, and while he wanted to take relief from the gesture, the undeniable anxiety in her grip only made him more sour. He thought about taking her away. Without a word, without warning. Though to where, or what end, he didn't know.

"And that's how Thaelon and I bagged our first fiend. Exhilarating day it was, though I never did find my pants."

Sarah, vacantly wondering what exactly two supposedly heterosexual males were doing without pants in the middle of the woods while on a hunt in the first place, was surprised to hear that one of them had been Thaelon.

"It probably ate them dear, you know how beasts are. They respond to anything with a bit of musk." Lady Ruen tapped Lord Kaellen's arm playfully and he laughed.

"I didn't realize you were talking about the late King," Sarah said, forgoing the tension between her and Jareth for a less intimidating distraction. "That was quite an...intimate tale. Were you two close?"

Lord Kaellen shifted in his seat and ran a hand through his silver hair.

"Quite," he proudly answered. "Thaelon and I were avid hunters in our youth. T'was his favorite sport. Hence it became ours."

"Ours?"

"The other lords. The boys, as we were. Lord Merriwyn, Alistahr, and of course, the late Eines senior."

"May he embrace the Almother," Lady Ruen said, which Sarah gathered was the Underground equivalent of rest in peace. Sarah peered over at Ailtheth next as she shifted and re-crossed her legs before speaking.

"Yes...nasty business that was. Dreadfully undignifying."

"So I've heard," Sarah said, and earned a very small glance from Jareth. By now her nerves had settled and she held onto his hand more naturally. She even squeezed it a little as she sat up in her seat.

"Yes, t'was a real shame when he fell impotent. Now he was a fine huntsman —that, and his lands bred the best game," Kaellen said with a shrug. Then he glanced to the side and leaned forward, closer towards her, with a one-sided grin. "No offense to our present host, but one might say the apple has fallen far from the tree."

"Kaellen, don't be rude," Ruen said, beratingly, with a little shove. Sarah appreciated the scolding; it saved her having to express her own.

"What can I say? The boy would rather feed the fiend than fight it," he said, with a roll of the eyes. "But you're right, love. I shan't complain. The quality of the food has never been better."

"I say, all this reminiscing has me feeling nostalgic," Lordess Ailtheth said, smiling as she leaned towards Jareth. There was a small table between her chair and his, which was where the glass of wine she'd been reaching for was located. It was an innocent enough gesture, though the way her back arched to emphasize her cleavage as she moved was in no way lost on Sarah. "I'd like to hear some stories of our king. Royal romps are so entertaining. Wouldn't you agree, Your Majesty?" She spoke to Sarah but was clearly flirting with Jareth. She knew that kind of tone: light, feminine, with a girlish smile that matched. Sarah wondered what the woman was hoping to get out of this. And then she wondered if she was just being possessive. Jareth had yet to actually reciprocate her hold on him and it was starting to get to her.

"By all means," Sarah said, turning and looking straight at Jareth. "I always enjoy hearing about Jareth's past."

Jareth stared at her unblinking for a moment, which was enough to bring back her nerves in full force. She did her best to apologize with her eyes, but whether or not he'd accepted went unknown when he wordlessly looked away.

"Marvelous," Ailtheth said, and steepled her fingers in excitement as she leaned in the opposite direction towards Lord Kaellen. "Where shall we start? Perhaps at the beginning? I'd love to hear of His Majesty's first kill."

Sarah was distracted by Ailtheth when she suddenly felt a sharp pressure in her hand. She glanced down reflexively at her and Jareth's hands, and then up at him when she realized the squeeze had been instinctive. He shifted in his seat, but otherwise looked as steeled as ever. But, because she did in fact know better, was able to discern just how uncomfortable, perhaps even irritated, he now was. Hm?

"Oh, a fine day that was. I was there, you know," Kaellen said, leaning forward and pressing a hand to his thigh as he arched a cocky brow at her. "Your Majesty, you've been so quiet. Perhaps you'd like a go at entertaining the ladies?"

Sarah, curious and mildly worried over Jareth's less than jovial mood, turned back towards him with far too much intrigue. Jareth stared at her from his peripheral, and then inhaled slowly as he sat upright in his seat.

"There's not much of a story to tell, I'm afraid. My recollection of the event is unanimously mundane."

"Ah, that's just because you've never known how to properly tell it!" Kaellen exclaimed. He laughed and leaned back in his seat, then reached behind his wife for his own drink which had been idling on the table beside her. "Always humble, our king is. But surely you know that, My Queen," he said, and Sarah had to choke back a laugh. No one else picked up on it —save Jareth. They turned and looked at one another, and she hoped the wiggle in her pursed lips would not offend him further.

"Oh absolutely. When I think of The Goblin King, humility is always the first thing that comes to mind."

Her tone was facetious and her expression highly amused as she arched a brow at Jareth. He tried to glower, but the twitch of a grin betrayed him. He huffed and looked away to conceal it.

Sarah, satisfied she'd successfully broken through that brick wall of his, turned her attention back towards Lord Kaellen.

"So you were there? Would you like to tell the story, Lord Kaellen? As you've said, my husband is far too demure to sensationalize himself for our entertainment." She was teasing and, fully aware of the glare it had earned her, bit on her tongue as she stifled a grin.

"It'd be my honor, Your Majesty," Kaellen said, placing a hand over his heart while bowing his head. "Let's see…how old were you again, Your Majesty? Twelve?"

"Nine," Jareth replied, curtly. Sarah's brow furrowed in reaction but Kaellen carried on unphased.

"Ah yes, even better-"

"Oh, His Majesty was so young," Ailtheth said, with an inflection that was down right giddy. Oh geez.

"Indeed. The pride of his father from the very beginning."

This time Sarah tensed. She tried to gauge any sort of reaction from Jareth through their conjoined hands, but there was none.

"Who was it….ah, yes. I believe we were all there that day: Thaelon, Alistahr, Merriwyn, myself, my sons Cale and Faern, Eines and his son —Well, of course Eines was there. It happened here!"

"Wait. His son? I thought Eines was only five-hundred or something?" Sarah asked. Kaellen paused, an embarrassed smile flickering to and from his face, and then he changed directions.

"Ah yes, forgive me. I was speaking of Airnen, Eines's eldest child."

"Oh? I didn't know Eines and Arubella had a brother. Why isn't he the landlord?" Sarah asked. Kaellen glanced away and sighed.

"Well, frankly, because he's dead," he said, and then looked back at Sarah. "He passed on well before the current Eines and his lovely sister were even a thought."

"Oh. I see. Sorry."

She didn't know to whom she was apologizing to, but now she felt awkward. Thankfully nuance was not something Kaellen seemed capable of, so he carried on freely.

"It was disappointing indeed. That chap had a lot of promise. Still, that is a different story. Now where was I? Let's see... If I remember correctly, we were on expedition in the Gaed mountains. The lodge is only a few hours from Sulana," he explained. "Late Eines was host to our party. We were to be hunting bear that week—"

"A bear?" Sarah interrupted, skeptically. "Isn't that...kind of small fry for this world?"

Kaellen laughed like that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

"If it were a bear from the Aboveground perhaps, Your Majesty," he said, heartily. "Ah, but here bears are much more formidable. Simply massive, they are."

"Oh, I see. Carry on."

"Yes, so... Eines and Airnen had scouted ahead to confirm its whereabouts, so we were all very excited. I remember His Majesty was not meant to accompany us, but oh how he begged his father. All tight-fisted and red-eared. Please do not take this as an insult, Your Grace, but you really were a cute little thing."

Sarah grinned and turned it back to Jareth. Oh, how he was stewing; but she couldn't help it. This was probably as close as she would ever get to the embarrassing family photo album, so she appreciated Kaellen's impish grin for all it was worth.

"I can only imagine," she replied.

"It was….I believe the third night before we actually went into the woods. We'd done quite a bit of drinking, you see. We had expected our young king to stay behind, but Thaelon felt differently. And oh, how right his intuition was—" and then he leaned forward and whispered for dramatic effect. "We set out in the black of night. The moon had shunned us, and the canopy was so thick it was near impossible to spot one's own hand in front of their face. And the quiet? Oh, it was the voice of death. How I adore such charged silence."

"Was that wise? Hunting for a bear in the dark?" Sarah asked. Kaellen chuckled.

"Of course not," he said, readily, with a widening grin. "But that is the point. Don't want to make it easy on ourselves."

Lady Ruen reached out and tapped him on the arm affectionately.

"Yes, a bunch of right dare devils they were. I've scolded him for it endlessly."

"It's not like we had much of a choice, love. You remember how Thaelon played close to the chest."

"I do…" she replied, with a very interesting and disapproving roll of the eyes. Sarah observed them carefully, realizing these might be the first people she'd met who had actually been alive during Thaelon's reign, and suddenly she was full of questions. She kept them back, however, eager to hear more of this story first.

"Anyway, we prowled for hours. Wandered deep into the mountain with nary a torch for guidance. We relied on our senses, you see. Provides a much more visceral experience. At some point, Thaelon grew bored and decided we should split into groups. Apparently the young prince interpreted that as a solo affair—"

Sarah sat back and looked over at Jareth.

"You mean you went off on your own?" she asked. Jareth shrugged and rolled his eyes, but it wasn't a dismissive gesture. No, Sarah frowned as she realized it was one of constraint.

"Went off, got lost, who can say," Lord Kaellen replied. Sarah looked back at him reluctantly. "He was such a small thing; it was impossible to distinguish him from the bushes. Still, he held his own. Didn't you, Your Majesty?"

Jareth, with a look that could kill, pressed two fingers to his temple and his thumb to his jaw to hold up his head as he reclined in his seat.

"Quite."

"So there we were, separated and blind, half searching for the missing prince, half searching for the beast that might have eaten him, when all of the sudden we heard a vicious clamor."

"Ooh, how exciting!" Ailtheth chimed in, curling her hands as she sat on the edge of her seat. Sarah raised a bored eyebrow in her direction.

"We heard the beast roar, but it was impossible to orient from where at first. And then we heard His Highness….he cried out only once and —I swear, for a moment I thought it really had eaten you, Sire," he said, glancing at Jareth. "We rushed towards him instinctively of course. The lot of us convened in nearly the same second. We were rendered no more than spectators however. What followed next simply happened too quickly.

"So there we were. And there it was. A magnificent specimen. Standing twenty feet reared. Claws glinting, mouth foaming. It thrashed through the air, and we saw His Highness stumble back and to the ground. Eines senior was readying to slay the beast, but as it came down for the mortal blow our beloved young prince raised an arm and sliced the thing clear between the eyes!"

"W-what?"

"Oh it was glorious, My Queen. I wish you could have seen it. A mere boy of nine. NINE. Executing his first show of combative magic with such marksmanship. It was truly awe inspiring."

"Wait, so you killed it with magic?" she asked, turning around and looking at Jareth. Compared to the recount of his valiance when slaying the boar, his reaction presently was one of a tightlipped statue. He looked irritated, but she had no idea why.

"Yes," was all he said. Then Lord Kaellen stole back the mic.

"All of us were shocked into silence, honestly. But we knew then and there just what a fine man he would become. We were so proud of our prince, we gave up the remaining hunt and feasted for the rest of the week. I had never seen Thaelon so happy."

"He was happy?" Sarah asked, guarding her distasteful reaction very little. Thankfully, Kaellen did not notice.

"Of course. Children do not begin learning to control their magic until their teens. So the fact that His Majesty was able to produce a fatal blast with such precision, at the age of nine, was a moment of great accomplishment for the kingdom." He turned and smiled at his wife as he said that, and her returning expression was equally prideful. "Thaelon had the trophy mounted. I believe it still stands at the entrance of Bethlegrund."

"Wow," Sarah said, and looked over at Jareth. "I guess you really are a prodigy."

"You flatter me," he replied, deadpan. Sarah frowned again.

"Oh, if only I had been alive back then," Ailtheth said, airily. "I would have given anything to see such a fine display. I pray my children show even half the aptitude of His Majesty."

"I'm sure they will, Ailtheth. Come the day you actually take a husband, that is." Jareth's tone was unreadable, but Ailtheth giggled all the same. She glanced away with a little shrug.

"What can I say? My standards are high..."

The conversation turned cursory after that, the majority of which being carried on by the three fae aristocrats. Jareth was as silent as ever, which had Sarah becoming equally broody. She wasn't sure what his problem was, if there was something in the story that bothered him, or if he was mad at her for leaving earlier. The latter worried her most. Made her uneasy. She felt like she needed to talk to him, but present company posed a bit of an inconvenience.

She would glance around trying to distract herself, still wondering where the heck Marie and Roldan had hidden themselves, and then she spotted Amara on the far side of the room. She was sitting on a couch near the piano, her back straight, her hands neatly on her lap, looking around and bobbing her head to the music. That seemed odd to her for some reason. Why wasn't she mingling with everyone else?

"Do you hear that Kaellen? Oh I just love this song."

Sarah's attention was drawn to Ruen, or rather, to the sudden rise in her voice as she'd said that.

"As do I, Lady Ruen. Such a fun piece." Lordess Ailtheth leaned around and smiled playfully at Ruen. Lord Kaellen, squished between them, grinned like a miscreant.

"Shall we have ourselves a dance then, ladies?" he asked.

"Indeed. Would you care to join, Your Majesties?"

Sarah stared for a moment. She only knew how to badly waltz and carry out the Quartet dances. It would probably be best to sit this one out...

"Um, not yet I think, but you all go on ahead. Have fun."

It still amazed her how drastically her speech pattern changed when she was in queen mode.

The three of them bowed their heads before standing to their feet.

"Of course. Thank you for allowing our company, Your Majesty," said Ailtheth. Sarah gave them a polite smile and watched as they left, then let out a sigh of relief which very quickly turned into worry as she turned and set her sights on Jareth.

They were alone. Finally. Out of earshot, tensed, and potentially compromised in a shadowed corner…

She regarded him for a moment in silence. She was still holding his hand. He was still looking anywhere but at her.

"So...even as a boy you were a force to be reckoned with, eh?" she said awkwardly. Jareth's eyes, suddenly cutting, turned towards her.

"Apparently," he said and looked away again.

"...You look bothered."

"Do I?" The corner of his mouth cocked in a sneer as he said that. Sarah frowned.

"By all your sarcasm, I take it Kaellen's rendition was less than accurate?" she asked. He was looking more than a little crabby sitting there all slack and scowled. His roll of the eyes certainly didn't help him any. Sarah's gaze moved downward from his glower to note the way his hand fisted atop the arm of his chair, and she frowned again. "I could feel you tensing up the moment it was mentioned."

"Yes, well, it was accurate by some perspective at least."

"And by yours?" There was a silence following that question that Sarah perceived as uncomfortable. Her frown deepened and she crossed her legs while shifting in her seat. "It's fine if you don't want to tell me. I'm just being nosy again."

Jareth, truthfully distracted by his own annoyance, only now glanced over at the sound of disappointment he heard lining his beloved songbird's voice. She'd looked away. Was looking oh so pitiful. She carried herself well, but he could see the reddened skin at the corner of her eye where tears had formed but a short while ago...

He sat up with a sigh.

"It's true that I wanted to go with them —to the lodge," he said, relinquishing his cup to the end table. "I'd heard so many tales of adventures had in those mountains, I simply had to see it for myself. Still, I was against the hunt."

"You were?"

Her quick response betrayed her wiles, revealing a sense of eagerness she'd been trying to subdue. The corner of Jareth's mouth twitched as he stared at her. No matter the mood, she was still a curious kitten through and through.

"What I wanted was to admire the estate. I had no interest in killing things," Jareth went on, then re-crossed his legs as he leaned back and looked to the side. "Eines's son —Airnen. He was...to my memory, a very valiant man. Strong, handsome, versed in many ways of the world. Or so I perceived him at least."

"You looked up to him?" Sarah asked. Jareth's eyes shot over from his peripheral.

"Yes," he replied, then rested his cheek on a fisted hand. "My father didn't like that."

"Why?"

"He was...in his early twenties I think," he went on, ignoring her question. "—So we were very close in age, by our standards. But, while Airnen was an accomplished knight and an aspiring scholar, I was...just a boy." He rolled his eyes away in a manner that, to Sarah, signaled impending discomfort. "My father was...competitive by nature. With that said, he condemned those who did not play fair. When he conquered something, he did it with the satisfaction that it was because he was truly the better opponent. In retrospect I think he was fiercely jealous of the late Eines's son, and so he extended those same expectations unto me."

Sarah stared at him for a moment, her brow drawing tight in contemplation.

"So...he made you hunt with them to prove you were better than Airnen?"

"No," Jareth said, sternly, then sat upright in his seat. Sarah didn't like the way he was suddenly fidgeting so much. "I did not hunt with them. Contrary to what Kaellen recalls, I did not get lost and I did not wander off. Airnen had already snared a few pheasants and rabbits, which Eines was bragging they would serve for dinner after the hunt. My father became exceedingly impatient with this and split up the company. He pulled me aside and told me to go out on my own and not to come back until I had killed something."

"Had...you ever killed anything before?" She sounded a little tentative, mostly in reaction to the anger she now saw building in Jareth's demeanor.

"No," he answered, again. "So, there I was, armed with a short sword and a bow I could barely draw back. Kaellen was right about one thing, however. It was dark. All I remember of that forest is pure, debilitating darkness." He sighed roughly and waved a hand through the air. "Because I was bumbling about, the bear ended up finding me. I panicked and tried to run, but...I suppose I was more afraid of my father's reaction to a show of cowardice than of being torn to bits. The party heard our commotion and teleported to me and, as Kaellen recalls, Eines was the only one to try and intervene." He was gripping the arm of his chair with one hand and, in a show of frustration, took up his drink once again. He took a long swig before continuing. "The rest watched. Not because it happened too quickly for them to react, but because my father had ordered them not to."

"Excuse me?" Sarah asked, impulsively. This time her question broke through his rant, and he paused to glare at her.

"I remember amidst that darkness, with such perfect clarity, the dread I felt when I looked over, saw my saviors, and then the outcast hand of my father telling them and me, no."

Sarah's mouth dropped open and she skootched to the edge of her seat.

"What? That's horrible. How could he—"

"By this point I was already injured and the beast had my blood in its nose. It came down upon me and...I cowered. There was nothing else to do. I was going to die. Instinctually, I raised out my hand. I never expected anything to come out of it."

"So you did use magic?" Sarah asked. She looked very troubled, nearing outrage. How closely it resembled a look of pity offended him. "That was your first time?"

"Yes," Jareth answered, clipped. "Though it was not by some great feat. It was sheer luck that I hit it at all, let alone in the head."

"So...what happened after that? Was Thaelon happy that you'd bested Airnen?"

Sarah drew back when he started laughing at her exasperatedly.

"Me and Airnen? No. It was never about that," he said, then leaned back with a nasty smile on his face. "What made him so happy was that he beat Eines. It proved himself the better sire. If only that were true," and he glanced away, his voice fading into contemplation. "Kaellen, like most old men, has a penchant for getting lost in the glory of such tales. He skims by everything that happened between that moment and the week of feasting."

There was a pause before Sarah replied. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know…

"...What happened?"

"The bear died instantly," Jareth said, plainly. "If you recall, it was about to strike me dead, which placed me directly underneath it when an actual ton of dead weight plummeted to the ground. I was quick enough to move my more vital parts out of the way, but my left leg, unfortunately, was crushed."

Sarah's eyes, in a look of horror, reflexively glanced down to said leg as it angled leisurely over his right knee. Her brows drew together even more tightly.

"What do you mean, crushed?" she asked. Jareth's grin flickered into a sneer.

"Take a guess." He anticipated the way her attention shot back at him and his expression turned even more distasteful. "My father and his acolytes were too busy celebrating, so it was Eines and Airnen who pulled me out," he explained, seeming to find some morbid sense of humor in the way she was looking more and more upset. "My leg was completely shattered. In ribbons, really. I can still recall the shape, and I remember thinking how it couldn't be real. Oh, but it felt real. My father saw my tears, saw Eines doing what he could to help me, and finally gave me his attention." Then he leaned inward, arched an eyebrow, and was positively delighted by the edge he kept her on. "He ordered Eines to step back and then tossed me a knife, told me to carve my trophy and bring it back to the lodge."

Sarah's reaction was delayed. Her mouth pursed in an o shape, but it was a moment before the words came.

"Wh-you mean with a broken leg?!" she asked with a rise. "You were nine years old!"

"I'm aware," Jareth replied, glancing away as he shrugged. "He said broken bones were a cursory injury, and that the physician would be awaiting my arrival, so I ought to hurry. He took his men and left me there. Alone. In the dark. Covered in blood and piss and shit and mud, with a task I found so revolting I actually vomited. Have you ever had to sever a head?" There was sharp inflection when he asked her that. Sarah assumed it was rhetorical, so she did not speak. Not that he waited. He very quickly shrugged and carried on. "It doesn't much bother me now, but back then…"

"It's understandable that you were upset, Jareth," Sarah said, sternly, her tone a reflection of her expression as she stared very intently at him. He was not looking at her, was forcing a smile in a way that she knew was false. He was bothered. Very. Exuding a particular kind of tension in his posture that effectively kept her from reaching out to him. It was enough to make her actually regret coercing him into talking about this.

Jareth shrugged in feigned apathy.

"Well, I did my best. I dragged myself over and tried to carve it. But, I was a driveling mess and I didn't have the strength to break through the bone."

"So...what did you do?"

"I resolved myself to die in that forest," he said quickly and with a laugh. Sarah's frown worsened. "But, just when I was about to fall to despair, who should show up once more but dear old Eines," he carried on, and looked back at her with a grin. "He said he'd snuck away from my father and came to tend to me. He severed the head, made a splint for my leg and a crutch for me to hobble with. He said he would have taken me back himself, but I needed to make the journey on my own or my father would know I'd cheated. He left the head in the shadows fifty yards from the manor, so I only had to drag it that far to prove my worth. As promised, a physician tended to my injuries and I was good as new only two hours later. I suppose my father was right in that regard. Bones are easy to fix."

"Wha-It's not about that. It's about the pain!" Sarah said, outraged beyond all measure. She fidgeted in her seat and her frown turned into a righteous glare. "That really happened to you? Are you serious? How dare he. How dare he treat his own child, any child, any person like that!" Her voice raised to a yell and she looked around herself conspicuously. "Is there not a single story about that man that isn't absolutely horrible?" she asked with ire. Jareth arched a cool brow.

"Horrible?" he repeated with a worryingly empty tone. "I'd say that was one of the most pleasant memories I have of him." The calm in his voice was deflating and did well to snuff out her anger. Sarah sat back in her seat and quieted down, though her confused scowl remained. "Though it was self-serving, he really was proud," Jareth continued. "The way he regarded me throughout the remaining week was...nice."

"And no one but Eines saw anything wrong with that? They really just stood there and watched you suffer?"

Jareth's eyes briefly closed as he shrugged once more.

"Even if they did empathize, they had little choice in the matter. My father would have executed every single one of them. In the case of Kaellen...I suppose our minds have a way of curbing our more unsavory memories. It becomes difficult for beings like us to live such long lives otherwise."

Sarah, really not expecting the kind of tale he'd just spun for her, fell back in her seat and just shook her head.

"Jesus…" she mumbled, fighting through disbelief as she imagined the trauma that must have inflicted. No wonder he was so fucked up, she caught herself thinking, and then peered up at him reflexively. Metaphors of apples and trees came to mind, and now she was worried over something else entirely. "But...you would never do that... right?" she cautiously asked. She held his gaze unblinking when he glanced over at her. "You'd never treat your —our— children that way…right?"

Jareth, caught off guard by her question, regarded her very seriously before responding. She looked more than alarmed. She looked legitimately afraid. He frowned, feeling unable to properly justify himself.

"You're upset again," was all he could say. Whether it was intended, he recognized judgement in her expression. A shadow of conviction that he'd already proved himself entirely capable of such acts. It brought back his earlier feelings of disappointment, beratement, and shame—

"Of course I'm upset. What rational person wouldn't be after hearing a story like that?"

He came out of his daze to realize she'd reverted back to outrage. She sat very straight in her chair and gripped the arms aggressively. Jareth felt the corner of his mouth twitching. Was she upset on his behalf? Or worried about their future? He honestly couldn't tell.

"Your outrage flatters me," he said, then lowered his eyes. "—but you should save your energy. Such things happened a very, very long time ago." He hesitated, but after a second was able to reach out towards her. He clasped one of her hands and vacantly watched her squeeze his back as he said, "Rest easy, love. I know...it may not be much to rely on—" and then he found the confidence to raise his eyes to lock with hers. "—but believe me when I say I'd die before subjecting a child to anything even remotely like that."

A small wave of relief swept down her spine, just strong enough for Jareth to pick up on, and it comforted him. Her posture relaxed —but nothing else.

"You would die," she said, very seriously. "Because I'd kill you."

An impulsive smile flashed across his face, but was left hanging in contrast to her highly convicted stare. His expression softened as he regarded her, as he felt a flare of pride over her investment in this matter. He let go of her hand and reached up to brush her cheek with his thumb.

"I would expect nothing less."

"So is that it then? Why you brought him back to court personally?"

Immune to his kind-hearted gesture, Jareth pulled his hand away from her face as he sat back in his chair.

"Who?"

"Eines. Senior, I mean." Sarah's stare was unwavering but did little to fill in the gaps. Jareth's returning stare was expectant. She glanced away before continuing. "I spoke with Eines earlier. He uh...told me a little bit about his past. About how you welcomed his father back to court? It was very touching." Her brow knitted when he huffed, and she regarded the way he glanced away and shifted in his seat very curiously. "I feel bad about what happened to him," she added on.

Jareth sighed as he finished off what was left of his drink.

"Sadly, such a fate was not exclusive to him during my father's time."

"Yeah…" she mumbled, distractedly. "I can't help but wonder though...why you went so far out of your way, or what you could have possibly said to him that made him cry—"

"Cry?" Jareth interrupted. Sarah glanced up to find his expression suddenly flabbergasted. He cocked a brow at her and his one-sided grin curled even more "Did Eines tell you that?"

"Um, yeah."

"Gods…" Jareth muttered, shaking his head incredulously. Sarah watched him pinch the bridge of his nose as he composed himself. When he lowered his hand and crossed gazes with her again, she saw an odd sense of compassion in it. "He was always one for dramatics."

"Were you close with him?" she asked. Jareth's brow lifted like it was a question he did not expect.

"Close?" he repeated.

"Yeah. He'd known you since you were born, right? And, you said it yourself, he was the only one who lifted a hand to save you from that bear..."

"I suppose," Jareth said, shifting about. "Eines senior was always looking out for me. He was soft —like his son. My father said that weakness was what ruined him."

"You mean when he got hurt?"

"Yes," Jareth replied, eyes shooting over at her and her ever-growing curiosity over the past. At least she no longer looked depressed. Best to indulge her, he determined. "He and my father were on a hunting expedition in The Valley of Tuan. My father, despite being king, did not take precautions towards his safety. He lived off the thrill and did not think nor act with any consideration towards himself or others. He was...just that arrogant, I suppose," he explained, tiptoeing around the truth. His father was reckless, yes, but he was something more than arrogant. He was assured. Who wouldn't be with something like The Labyrinth protecting you? Too bad the same could not be said for his friends. "Eines ended up defending him from an attack and took the blow in his place. As I told you last night, the wound never healed. He was given the option to either amptuate or live in suffering."

"And he chose suffering?" Sarah asked. Jareth grinned reflexively.

"I told you he was vain."

Sarah looked bothered by this answer but did not dispute it, and he knew from her silence that she was waiting for him to continue.

"My father had no further use for him after that —said he was boring and ended up shunning the whole family. The other nobles, naturally, followed his lead. I was….barely passed fifty at that time." He winced at the end, trying to recall such long faded details. "I hadn't seen any members of the Sulanan lordship for over four centuries. It was all but forbidden. I'd heard about the death of Airnen, however. He was slain in a duel...over a woman. Pointless really. Figures." And he shrugged. "I was angry about a lot of things when I became king, and...I don't know. I just found myself on their doorstep...out of spite if nothing else." He noticed her head slowly tilt as she listened. Her brow turning down in what he presumed was sympathy. Such expressions deeply bothered him, but he ignored that gnawing feeling and pressed on. "I...apologized for how my father treated him, and thanked him for all that he'd done. I gave him my blessing and made point of it among all the other nobles at court. He was very happy, understandably. Though I am surprised to learn he cried."

He tried to end on a good note and glanced up with a halfcocked grin. Sarah was still frowning at him. God he hated that.

"This is all...very, very sad, Jareth," she ended up saying, softly. Jareth averted his eyes from her.

"Such is the Underground."

"That doesn't help."

There was a teeny edge to her voice as she said that, something close to admonishment. It made him feel a little defensive. Or maybe that was the work of his own angst.

"You know…" Jareth said, forcing his way out his foul memories and the mood they'd brought with them. "—I've never had to recall any of these things to anyone else before. You're quite a tyrant, forcing me to divulge my more pitiful demons like this."

"I'm sorry you view them as pitiful," Sarah replied, again with that same soft, compassionate tone. "And here I was, admiring how you've managed to survive this long at all." Her stare on him was intrusive. Like she saw past the dismissive tendencies he'd spent centuries crafting with absolutely no effort at all. It made him oddly uncomfortable. And so the veneer intensified.

"You said it yourself, didn't you? I'm insane," he said, with a self-deprecating smile. Sarah nibbled on her lower lip as she watched this. As she watched him squirm in a way that was revealed to her very rarely. But, as saddening as it was, she was also glad for these moments. Moments where she was able to see the real him. The boy who never got to be just. The man who was now trying so hard to be more.

"Right," Sarah replied, forcing herself to smile in the hope that it would alleviate his tension. "Your saving grace. I almost forgot."

His eyes darted over and crossed with hers. They couldn't help it. She'd sounded so sweet. But she didn't look sweet. No, she looked in pain. He stared at her silently and watched her expression twist into a grimace. "I'm...I'm sorry."

Her words hung in the air. Jareth's eyes narrowed.

"For what?"

His hand was laid on the arm of his chair close to hers. She reached out tentatively and squeezed it while shifting towards him. She was suddenly back to being fidgety. It made his jaw clench.

"When I left earlier. I realized I might have embarrassed you by telling you to stay. That wasn't my intention so...I'm sorry."

She placed a second hand lightly over his, deeply disconcerted with the way he refused to reciprocate.

Jareth closed his eyes and ground his teeth, too caught off guard by her tangent to properly retort. She sounded sincere. It only made him feel even more incompetent.

"There's no need to apologize. Trailing behind each other all night would make us look weak. It was actually good for you to show confidence and go off on your own," he said, but the sentiment was empty and Sarah wasn't buying it. She pursed her lips and jerked on his hand.

"Don't bullshit me," she said, knowing that he would glare at her in response. She locked onto it firmly. Vulgarity be damned. "Something's bothering you. And I don't think it's the reminiscing. Will you please talk to me?" There was patience in that request, but it was thin. Jareth had to stop himself from cracking a distasteful smile.

"Oh, so now you want to talk?"

She didn't like the aggressive tone he'd taken. Didn't like the way it lit up his eyes and had her leaning away from him. Sarah shrunk in her seat before responding. Damn. So he really was angry.

She looked away and sighed.

"Jareth...you don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly well," he said, cutting her off and commanding back her attention. She frowned when their gazes crossed, when she saw the myriad thoughts he kept restrained behind a hardened face. He looked like he might start screaming at her, but again, he only glared away. "You were upset to the point of tears and would rather comfort yourself than seek it from me…"

His words fell wayward and had her leaning in towards him again. She reached out with her free hand, but the gesture never made it.

"Jareth that's not…God, you really don't get it."

The overwhelming disappointment conveyed in those words was enough to earn his curiosity. He looked over just as she was looking away. Her frown had carved itself deeper. In fact, she looked incredibly upset.

"I didn't want to be alone. I needed to be. I couldn't be around you because...because I can never keep it together when I'm near you." There was a sudden flare of passion in her voice and a hand flailed itself out of frustration. She rolled her lower lip over her teeth and kept her back angled strictly towards the crowd. "I mean, look at me. I'm barely composed as it is. I'm supposed to be regal, aren't I? I'm supposed to be strong and confident. That song made me want to cry and I knew that if you tried to touch me or tell me it was alright, I'd have completely fallen apart." She sniffled and wiped the corner of her eye, furious at herself that she was still so emotional. Amara had been kind enough to fix her makeup for her before; she really hoped she wouldn't need it a second time. "I'm trying so hard not to mess up here. To keep my pheromones in check, breathe in this dress, be charming, remember everyone's name and not look any of them in the eye. There are so many freaking people here and it's just stressful, so I needed a minute to myself. Is that not okay?"

Jareth...stared at her skeptically. He knew the crux of her turmoil and yet he'd still been caught off guard. She was starting to cry again, though he had no idea what had triggered her. She was looking away from him, ashamed he should see her face. His aura did a complete 180 as he reached out to cup her cheek.

"Sarah—"

"I shouldn't need to rely on you so much. I should...be better guarded. I need to present myself as a fucking Queen, right? Not...not a bumbling idiot, not a hapless child who needs to be coddled in the corner. I don't know. It was just a song. I'm being stupid. I'm sorry." She shook her head and shied away from his touch. Jareth frowned. He was at a loss.

Sarah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was exactly what she was trying to avoid by leaving him. The stress was mounting. She only hoped no one was watching.

"And maybe you do feel slighted, and I'm sorry. It's just...she wrote that song for me and—and it reminded me of my family."

She spoke softly, reluctant to open her eyes in fear something between them would shatter. After a second she did so nonetheless. She stared straight into his eyes.

"It reminded me of home. My real home and...and I know this isn't the place to be doing this." She kept her voice as level as possible but it was hard, and made even harder by the way Jareth seemed to be encouraging her downward spiral. He kept his hand pressed to her face, his thumb lightly stroking into her hairline. His expression, which was once so guarded, now looked beseeching. She closed her eyes in frustration. Jareth's lowered in defeat.

"It's not. But here we are," he replied, quietly. Sarah glanced to the side and she smiled reflexively. She was trying to deflect by seeing what was going on behind her but Jareth kept her looking strictly forward. "Is that the real reason you ran from me?"

Sarah opened her mouth but hesitated, and the hand not gripping his raised to hover over her stomach. She felt uneasy now, borderline nauseous. She blamed it on the anxiety.

"I...I don't know." A single tear escaped her eye and was caught by his thumb. He brushed it away but the tenderness he meant to convey didn't quite reach her. She felt suddenly ambushed. She wasn't expecting to be talking about this —now —here —tonight of all nights. "Will I ever see them again, Jareth?" she asked, and her lip trembled. "You—you promised me once. You promised I could see them. So when? Did you lie?"

And with that she welcomed back the cornerstone of all her upheaval. Distrust. Suspicion. Lies. Lies about the past that they shared. This was a serious matter, but deep down it was vicarious for the contentions she felt over her pregnancy and his possible subterfuge. Goddamn, she was just all over the place.

She heard Jareth exhale through his nose, and brought her focus back to him. He was still staring at her, but now there was a hollowness to his eyes.

"It wasn't a lie, Sarah." He combed the tips of his fingers through her hair as he spoke, and she instinctively leaned into it. "While I did bring you here by force, it was never my ambition to keep you separate from them. I'm not so malevolent as to deny that from you." He sensed a hopefulness blossom within her and he glanced away from it, nearly wincing at what he said next. "With that said...I cannot let you see them."

"What? Why?" And now she sounded desperate, outraged. Jareth bit the inside of his cheek.

"Do you remember...when you spoke with Liana about acclimation?" he asked. Sarah blinked. What?

"Um...yes? She said that I was touched. That the magic of our contract left an imprint on me and I essentially took a part of this world when I left. Now that I'm back, that part is reconnecting with its source."

She didn't understand what any of this had to do with visiting her family, nor the reason why Jareth looked so damned uncomfortable. To her understanding, acclimation was what suspended her disbelief, what rendered this world so beautiful to her and made it feel like home. She'd fought it at first, concerned more than anything over the existential blurring of her free will. But, she'd since come to terms with the fact that nothing was forcing her to love this place. It simply helped her feel less guilty about it.

"Precisely," Jareth said, keeping her focus before she became distracted. "However…unfortunately...there is a bit more to it than that."

Sarah stared at him intensely, feeling more and more anxious with the way he kept his eyes averted.

"I don't understand."

"You left because of the rules of our contract," he said, and removed his hand from her jaw to rest it over top her own in her lap. "It was your right. With that said...magic is fickle. You technically chose to come back, so this world has assumed its right to reclaim what it lost. Fool me twice...and all that."

Sarah's hands curled beneath Jareth's.

"Okay? And that means?"

"You are fae-touched, Sarah. That means Underground magic has been ingrained into your being. You are...a part of this world now. Just as much as I, or the wind, or the trees. Therefore this place...it may not let you go a second time. Especially...when it does not have to."

"W...what?" She pulled her hands away from him and recoiled, her stare on him growing wide. "So you're saying...even if I did try to leave, it wouldn't be possible?"

Jareth's hands, still resting on her lap, subtly constricted the fabric of her gown.

"Not at present, no."

He hated this. He hated seeing devastation wrought miserably across her face and knowing it was something he could not redeem himself from. Something he had no power over. And the list of lies he told her...was only growing.

It was all a farce, and sooner or later she'd see through it. While it was true that he was unable to bring her back to the Above, it had nothing to do with the rules of the game or being fae-touched (as ambiguous a term that was). It was Liana. Sarah was within reach and close to ascension, and Liana had plainly stated that, this time, she would not let her master go. And, given the growing instability between the two, Jareth feared what might happen should that connection be tested by such an abrupt change of venue a second time.

During those years when Liana spirited Sarah to the Above, out of protection from him she'd said, the symptoms of that strain were made evident by the rapid decay of his lands. But right now, despite the desert spreading ever faster, they seemed to be living in the eye of a storm. It seemed stable. It seemed safe. But for that fragile balance to be tested...

"Did...did you know about this?"

Vexation and conflicting thoughts spelled out those words. Sarah was grimacing, forgetting all about propriety as her shoulders hunched. Jareth's gaze was forced to lower from her.

"I did," he said dryly. Sarah spied on his lowered face and found him scowling. "...and...I admit that...at the time…I was not considering such things. I didn't care."

He looked up with a plea in his eyes. Something honest and full of regret. He was sitting very close to her. Their faces drawn near for the sake of discretion. Sarah felt her eyes rounding as she questioned everything she thought she saw in his.

"You didn't care? Awesome," she said, unevenly. "So now I can never go to the Aboveground again? Ever?" She was forced to turn sharply away lest she lose composure. Jareth watched the way she winced and sucked in her lips. All this time she'd been so quiet about her family. He wasn't prepared for this. She pressed her knuckles to the underside of her nose, forcing the smarting sensation to abate as she muttered his name despairingly. "Jareth…"

"No," Jareth responded, not letting her finish the thought by reaching out and turning her face back to him. She let him do so effortlessly, though there was a ghost of spite in the way she regarded him. He ignored it. "Not never," he continued. "That's not what I said."

"What?"

He clenched his jaw and scoured her face. There was heavy tension in her expression, a steeled pout that was betrayed by the gloss on her eyes.

"I said you cannot go back, presently."

"What the hell does that mean?" There was a flare of exasperation in that question. Her chest puffed up on a breath and her brow drew to a tight V.

Jareth released her chin and sat back. This conversation had him walking on a knife's edge, but he told himself the risk would be worth the reward. He had to. He was so sick of lying...

"There is...a way to untether you," he said hesitantly. Sarah's eyes widened. "A way which would allow you to travel freely between the worlds."

"What way?"

He winced, internally if not physically, and closed his eyes as he scowled. This was agonizing. The foolish part of him wondered if he could simply ask Liana to take her, but he knew just as quickly what her reaction would be. No, while she cared for Sarah's wellbeing, she did not care for her happiness. She'd demonstrated that more than enough. In fact, she was probably reveling in Sarah's turmoil this very instant. Using it as fodder to get back at him for one thing or another. Spiteful wretch that she was.

The only other ways to break those constraints would be either for her to awaken and assume control herself or cede it to him, in which case she would no longer be bound by any magic. He could not explain this to her, however. At least not yet…

"It's dangerous," he replied, then looked up with a very serious edge to his eyes. "Painstaking. Untested and, honestly, attempting it might end up killing you."

There. That was honest. That was something he didn't feel so guilty in saying. Still, he watched her deflate yet again and he cursed himself all the more.

"What? Kill me?" she asked, bemused, and slouched as a huff took away her remaining passion. "So it's really hopeless then? Hopeless—"

"It's not," Jareth said, catching her off guard when he suddenly leaned in and grasped both sides of her face. She felt his fingers curl into her scalp, heard the amplified crinkle of hair and leather close to her ears. He looked alight. Desperate. He was so close to her now. She bit down on her lower lip. "Please...just give me time," he went on, his brow furrowing. "Let me find a better way. I know a part of you hates me for it but...I cannot change our past. I cannot...rewrite my wrongs." She saw the muscle in his cheek flex as he stared at her, but before she could fathom a response he closed his eyes and lightly pressed his forehead to hers. "I…" he started, then stopped as a bitter thought forced him to change directions. "I want to offer you more. I want you to be happy. I want...to be better. Please, just give me some time."

In the very far reaches of Sarah's mind, she wondered how many people had eyes glued to the back of her head, and how many ears were stealing these intimate words from them. It was embarrassing, but the fact that Jareth did not care impassioned her. She closed her eyes and licked her lips as she reached up and grasped his wrists.

She did not respond right away. It was simply a physical effort to do so. She was so confused, and upset, and oddly happy. She was glad he struggled. Glad he finally saw her pain and understood it as his own. Of course he would never let her go. That was...beyond realistic expectation. But this was a step. This was a moment that mattered. And so, at the end of it all, she really had no one else to rely on; she had no other choice but to put faith in him.

"Okay," she said, quietly, sweetly, with a wavering of tears that would not fall. She let her head rest in his hold, let her face incline towards the warmth she felt there. She had no idea what this meant, how much time he needed. But right now, amidst the myriad dancers and ever mounting strife, the sentiment was enough. He was enough.

Jareth angled her face forward and kissed her.

"I wish...I'd realized how much you cared," he said with a deep sigh. "I wish I'd done things differently. I wish I wasn't…"

"I know," Sarah replied, cutting him short and gently pulling his face back when he instinctively looked away. "I know you're trying. I do. But...not having the choice? Not having real freedom? It makes this entire world one big, pretty cage." Her tone was assuaging and so was her expression, gaining warmth, yet possessed an odd somber veil. He cherished such an endearing look. "I just...I can't live with this cloud hanging over us. I can't be a happy prisoner, Jareth. Please understand that."

"I do," Jareth said, victim to her mercy and the tortures of his own heart. If only she knew just how much power she had over him. If she only knew just how grateful he was to be given this opportunity at all. "I'm...I'm sorry."

"I know."

She exhaled slowly and pulled him into an embrace. This whole exchange felt highly inappropriate given the setting, but Jareth responded by holding onto her with such enthusiasm she was actually pulled to the edge of her seat. She gave into her inclination to relax against him and laid her cheek on his shoulder. It seemed quieter all of the sudden. She closed her eyes and let it linger.

She felt his hands sift through her hair draping over her back. Felt the force and the heat of his breath as he nuzzled her shoulder. She was glad, albeit surprised, that they had been able to talk about this. Glad that they'd been able to reconcile something. It made more pressing matters feel a little lighter.

After a minute or two, she shifted to try and look behind her but he was reluctant to let go.

"We must be making quite the scene for Eines's guests," she said absently.

"You don't need to worry about them."

"Are they not eavesdropping? Surely they're at least staring," she said and gradually leaned up. He let her go this time, which allowed her to finally turn around. She expected to see a sea of gossiping faces, shrewd side eyes and half-covered mouths, and was thus surprised to be greeted by a heavy velvet curtain. "What the heck?" she said and turned back to Jareth. "Where did that come from?"

She'd never even noticed. The lighting hadn't changed at all. Jareth moved away from her back in his seat.

"Things seemed…to be getting a bit personal," he said. "I figured we would both benefit from some privacy."

Sarah reached out and stroked the fabric as he spoke.

"Oh...so they can't hear us either?"

"No."

"That's handy."

Jareth tilted his head as he regarded her. Her demeanor had calmed. She looked back in her normal spirits. He was skeptical to believe it. Something still felt...unfinished.

"Indeed."

She looked away from the curtain and back at him. She held herself taller and folded her hands in her lap.

"Thank you...for hearing me out."

She was trying to hold his gaze but he was reluctant, his apprehension apparent in the way he crossed his legs and looked to the side.

"Thank you...for giving me the chance to."

He looked so physically uncomfortable and sounded so petulant just then it took all of Sarah's might not to smile, and she ended up pursing her lips to the point of biting them. Wow. This really was turning out to be a memorable night. She never expected such a concession from him.

"That's what marriage is, right?" she asked, but he did not respond. Not verbally at least. One of his eyebrows twitched, and she gathered from the mannerism that he was feeling a little resentful about being so vulnerable right now. It was cute.

Taking pity, Sarah sought to lessen the remnant tension by shifting gears. She glanced back at the curtain and plucked it.

"So um...how long can we stay back here?" she asked, finding a seam between the curtains and then pulling it back to sneakily spy on the crowd beyond. "I have a feeling our mysteriousness will only make us more interesting."

"As long as you want. We've done our part. I really don't care about their chatter."

Sarah released the curtain and turned around.

"A few more minutes then. It's nice having a break from...all that."

There was an awkwardness to her smile as she waded through whatever new tone they'd fallen into. She fiddled with the tips of her fingers and sat on the edge of her seat. Jareth, reclining back in his chair with feigned ease, cracked a very faint grin as he watched her.

"I know the feeling," he said. Sarah quirked a brow and peered to the side.

"Which I still find very odd considering how well you do at parties."

"I find the events themselves enjoyable," he said, and shifted his coat as he re-crossed his legs. "It's the people I can do without."

Sarah pursed her lips in a little grin, feeling relieved to hear the return of his casual cadence.

"I can see how even the most flattering ass-kissing could get annoying after a few centuries," she said playfully. Jareth huffed in amusement, but said nothing. He was staring at her again, and the following silence made her feel a little on the spot. She turned around and looked out the curtain again.

Her peering gaze swept the crowd to find it was still missing one Mariella and Roldan. She was starting to get a little suspicious about it when she spotted Amara once again still in the same spot beside the piano, sitting quietly. Alone.

"By the way…" she said, starting to turn back to face Jareth. "—I kind of asked Amara to be one of my ladies. That's not a problem, is it?"

Jareth shrugged and stared into his empty cup.

"It's your right to take on maids. You don't need my permission or approval."

"I know," she replied, then paused as she watched him." …but I also know you don't like too many people in the castle so...just trying to be considerate, I guess."

She sounded skeptical, an inference which was confirmed by the troubled wriggle in her brow and lowering eyes. Jareth felt a twinge of amusement as he regarded her reaction.

"Considerate enough to only ask me after the fact?" he asked. Sarah didn't respond, nor pick up on the fact that he was genuinely teasing. Her brow only drew tighter, and he tried not to sigh. "It's fine," he then said, more seriously. "What I was referring to was a body of people far larger than the mere four, presumably now five, of us." Sarah looked up from her lap but had yet to be convinced.

"Oh. Okay."

"That said," Jareth continued, leaning forward in his seat as he set his chalice down on the side table. "I really hope the young lordess is a bit more inhibited than her father…I do enjoy the serenity of the castle."

He heard her huff and peered up. He was surprised to see a smirk on her face and, once their gazes locked, she gave him a canny cock of the head.

"Oh come on. Neither of them are that bad. I've enjoyed having people around who are actually expressive and upbeat instead of just, you know...broody."

She fluttered her fingers as she'd said that, like that word wasn't quite right but would work well enough. Jareth's smile stretched a little further.

"Broody? You can only be referring to Roldan, I assume?" he asked. Sarah's lips pursed then curled at the corners.

"And others."

She returned his playful inflection, but it was weak. He gave no response. Instead, the silence they shared spoke for them, carried on in a moment of pseudo-comfort by the way they forced themselves to grin at one another. Things were still tense. She could feel it. He probably did too. They were smiling but...they shouldn't have to try so hard. After a few more seconds, she could no longer sustain it and looked away, her brow softening in profile—

"Are you two about finished?"

Sarah turned around sharply at the muffled, but all too distinguishable, voice of Roldan from beyond the curtain. She drew back in her seat, then looked back at Jareth.

"I thought you said no one could hear us?" she asked in a whisper. Jareth rolled his eyes.

"They can't. Roldan is just annoying," he said and, with a flick of the wrist, drew the curtains open. Sarah turned around in her seat again, staring up with a look of preemptive repentance that had started to become second nature when dealing with one of Roldan's scoldings.

He was standing directly behind her chair. His arms were crossed, and was already glaring down at her.

His eyes narrowed on her and then darted over to Jareth. Once he realized they were both decent, he sighed and uncrossed his arms.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Sarah's mouth opened but she didn't say anything —just kind of looked over to Jareth for cue.

Jareth reclined back in his seat and bounced a merry foot.

"What does it matter?" he countered. Roldan growled a little, then forcibly took one of the empty chairs. Sarah, now exposed to the world beyond, sat a little straighter with her back to it. She and Jareth's eyes crossed briefly as Roldan wedged himself between them. There was dialogue there, though she could not discern it.

"People are talking. How long have you been hiding back here?" Roldan asked.

"Um...I don't know. Twenty minutes?" Sarah replied. Roldan turned to her with an arched brow. He looked suspicious, holding back some nasty comment or other, and then turned the look to Jareth.

"Could you at least try not to pull any stunts tonight? This is her first public reception after all," he said irritably. Sarah stared at him in shock. Did Roldan really just defend her? Was he really blaming JARETH for something instead of her? What?!

"Calm yourself. Gods. Not that it's any of your business, but we had some private matters to discuss. If you're so concerned, where the hell have you been?" Jareth asked, quick to shift the blame. Roldan drew back in his seat then huffed before responding.

"Forgive me if I thought you might be able to handle yourselves for an hour without me nagging in your ear. Clearly my work never ends."

Jareth shrugged dismissively and looked away. Roldan, starting to stew at how petulant his king could be, inhaled deeply as he calmed his nerves. Sarah meanwhile had become more interested in the party. She kept peering back looking for Marie again.

"Hey...Roldan, have you seen Marie?" she asked. Roldan severed the evil eye he kept on Jareth and turned towards her with a slightly less antagonistic look.

"She's in the parlor on the other side of the dining room. Seems she's been commandeered."

"Huh?"

Roldan crossed an ankle over one knee and leaned back, relaxing a little as he said, "She made the mistake of walking by Elder Aederlyn just as he won a hand in poker. He insisted she stay by him and is now a very unfortunate fortune bringer."

Sarah drew her brow a little. She recognized the name Aederlyn. They were a family about midway up the aristocracy. There were a few generations of them in attendance tonight, if Sarah was remembering correctly. Though who the "elder" of that family was, she couldn't remember.

"So...she's being used as an arm piece?" she asked.

Roldan tossed his hand as he replied, "With a ten percent gratuity from what I hear." And then he picked a microscopic piece of fuzz from his sleeve. "She's been doing very well, actually. Aederlyn hasn't lost a hand since. I imagine, unless you summon her, he'll keep her glued to his hip all night."

"Oh geez," Sarah said, imagining Marie trying her best to remain polite against the pervy manhandling of some drunk old fae. She looked worried as she inadvertently glanced over at Jareth again. The tension there hadn't changed. Actually, for Sarah at least, it only got worse. Her jaw clenched as she resisted the urge to frown, shifting around in her seat as she struggled to break free of that stare. "I think...I should go check up on her," she mumbled. Jareth didn't say anything, not that he was really supposed to. She kept staring at him despite it, like she was waiting for him to grant her permission.

Jareth saw this and turned his head away.

"Do what you will."

Sarah finally frowned. What...was going on exactly? She felt nervous, like she wasn't supposed to leave him. She also felt like he was dismissing her. After the conversation they just had, that felt...wrong.

She nibbled her lip as anxiety brimmed. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself when she'd thought the matter was reconciled, though she really had no idea what was left of it. She began to ponder the possibilities, and immediately regretted it. She gave Jareth one final look, and then, in a moment of sheer cowardice, lowered her head as she stood to her feet and left.

Neither man reacted, dead silence following after her as she abandoned them without a second glance. Jareth's eyes lowered, turned hollow, and he felt himself numbing as if she'd just taken a vital part of himself with her. I shouldn't have to rely on you so much, she'd said. She shouldn't have to look at him like a dog on a leash either. Gods...what the hell was wrong with him?

Jareth sighed, resigning himself to his fate as he watched her leave.

"Shouldn't you be chasing after her?" Roldan asked. Jareth's attention flickered to him.

"What?"

"Your wife," Roldan said, in total ignorance of the despondent atmosphere around them. Jareth closed his eyes in frustration.

"The fact that you phrase it as such is exactly why I shouldn't." He uncrossed his legs and sat up in his seat. "She needs to establish an identity of her own. Don't you agree?"

Roldan arched a brow and vaguely glanced in Sarah's direction.

"Yes. But I don't think she's anywhere near ready. Wondering what in the hell might come out of her mouth at any given moment has been giving me palpitations." And he glanced back at Jareth. "Aren't you concerned?"

He watched, with little interest, the twitch that moved through Jareth's brow. He looked a little moody, Roldan thought and, for a split second, debated asking him about it. But he didn't. Such looks of longing were nothing new where she was concerned.

"No," Jareth replied, distractedly, then gestured at a waiter to bring him a drink —feeling suddenly parched. "She's proven herself more than capable. She does not need me...looming over her."


Sarah carried herself tall as she moved across the room, but it was a façade. She had no idea what she was doing, and just kept berating herself. She shouldn't have run. She should have told Roldan to leave and finished out whatever seemed to be remaining of her and Jareth's conversation. But she couldn't. She was too scared, too confused, too tired. He'd agreed to take her home...in spirit anyway. And she was happy about that —she was. So why...why did she still feel so sad?

She groaned to herself as she walked to the far side of the room. Leaving him just now was a mistake. She knew that much.

She passed through the archway into the dining hall. She had yet to venture here but, true to Roldan's word, she found lines of buffet tables creating a maze out of the place. There were grand sculptures of fruits and pastries in the forms of animals, and bouquets of flowers with loose petals accenting the tables. Sarah paused as she walked by it all. The cakes were out. Eines must have managed to wrangle the fairies after all.

On the other side of the dining hall was another archway, and already Sarah could see a haze of cigar smoke clouding the area. Ew. Seriously? Were there no windows in there?

Just now remembering she needed to avoid secondhand smoke, she walked more quickly with the determination to grab Marie and go. She needed her council, her reassurance, anything at all to distract her.

The smoking parlor was similar to the regular parlor she'd been in earlier that day. The red wood on the walls kept everything dark, and the way the flicker of candlelight diffused through the smoke made it look very moody.

She very quickly scanned the place and found her missing half in the center of the room. She was sitting on someone's lap, presumably Aederlyn, and...she was laughing. And...actually…what Sarah had envisioned as a pervy old man was nothing of the sort.

He was young. Very young. Looked to be no more than thirty in fact. He had curly brown hair, a sharp jaw, and a complexion nearly as dark as Marie's. He smiled at Marie, revealing a profile of very straight, white teeth and a dimple in his cheek. Sarah, once again blindsided by fae physiology, nearly face palmed as she stood in the threshold. Dude was gorgeous —looked like a frickin' Disney prince over there dressed in a white dress coat with gold trimmings, so of course, of bloody fucking course—

Sarah approached the table, arching a brow as the rest of her expression fell deadpan. Marie was tracing flirty circles around his shoulder, whispering something clever in his ear which he readily laughed at. He held her affectionately by the hip and his grin, from what she could see of it anyway, curled devilishly as he leaned up and whispered something even more clever into her ear. Marie giggled in that way of hers. …And here Sarah thought she needed saving.

She stood behind the two of them for a few seconds. No one noticed her —the other occupants at the table immersed in their cards.

"Hey, uh...whatcha doin Marie?"

Mariella's head whipped up and her smile widened impulsively from ear to ear.

"Sarah? Ah! There you are!" she said with such exuberance, and nearly knocked herself off of Aederlyn's lap. The other men at the table looked up, and suddenly everyone was lurching to their feet.

"Your Majesty," they all said with dramatic bows. Sarah raised a hand to calm them down.

"That's not necessary. Please sit."

They stared at her and each other skeptically, then slowly lowered back to their seats.

"I was wondering where you went. Is everything alright?"

She looked back at Marie but didn't immediately respond. Instead Sarah analysed her rosy nose and dewy complexion. Apparently she'd been having some fun in their time apart.

Time seemed to be moving a little slow for Marie, who suddenly leapt into action once the lightbulb clicked. "Oh!" she yipped, and sprang to her feet. "How rude of me. Your Majesty, you remember Count Aederlyn? —and his grandsons as well?" she said, and gestured at the man serving as her seat before nodding at the rest of the table.

The man in question turned around and bowed his head.

"Hello again, Your Grace," he said, with a killer kind of smile that all but glimmered. Sarah pursed her lips.

"Hello…" she said awkwardly, then rolled her eyes back to Marie. She remembered this guy now. Although she had no idea he was the elder in the family. Apparently that would mean that the other five gentlemen at the table, as well as the ten or so other Aederlyn's she'd been introduced to tonight, were propagated by him. This new bit of knowledge registered as a red flag for some reason, and so she arched an imperative brow at Marie. "Could uh...I speak with you for a minute?"

Mariella's eyes widened in a look of panic.

"Of course. Please, excuse me gentlemen…" she said and scuttled around the chair and over to Sarah's side. Sarah, with eyes like daggers, stared at Count Aederlyn as he stared after the parts of Marie closest to eye level. Hrmph.

They walked towards the archway, Sarah maneuvering them to a space out of earshot.

"Sarah is everything alright? You shouldn't be in here, you know. The smoke isn't good for you." Marie spoke in a hushed tone, eyes darting all around conspicuously.

"Everything's fine. I came to save you," she replied. Mariella's brow got all twisty.

"Save me? From what?"

Sarah, starting to realize she may be making an idiot out of herself, crossed her arms defensively.

"Roldan said you were being held hostage by some old perv. I thought I'd come and liberate you from his clutches. Although…" and her voice trailed off as she spied on Count Aederlyn, in all his fine girth, with a cocked brow. "Looks like you were right where you wanted to be, eh?" And she glanced back with a very canny eye. Mariella licked her lips as she averted her gaze to the ceiling.

"Well...he is quite old...and vain…and entitled...and a bit of a perv, yes, and...I suppose I was technically a hostage…" and then she looked back at Sarah with a very wild kind of smile. "But isn't he dreamy?! I mean, my fucking goodness—" and she dramatically fanned herself with her hand. Sarah's eyes widened. That may have been the first time she'd ever heard Marie swear. "Who knew such a creature lived in these parts?" she continued on dramatically. "Gosh, I think I might faint. He's very aggressive too. I hear he's nearing ten-thousand. Did you know he has twelve children? Twelve! What a gene pool. He's become a very popular consort. Can you imagine the experience? Oh, I have every determination of bagging that one tonight."

Sarah laughed. She was trying to be stern, but how could she? She'd never seen Marie so excited. Of course she would be the predator in this situation. Sarah could only shake her head.

"Well that's a relief," she said with a chuckle. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't being manhandled or anything."

"Oh, I could stand to be manhandled a bit more," Marie said, twiddling her fingers across the room at the man in question as he glanced back at the two of them and grinned. Sarah covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers.

"You're too much, Marie."

"Is that really it, though?" Mariella asked. Sarah was a little caught off guard.

"Huh?"

Mariella frowned as her eyes searched Sarah's face.

"I was worried when you ran off like that. Even more when you told His Majesty not to follow. He wanted to, you know. I insisted he respect your wishes in this public setting however. Was that wrong of me?"

Sarah blinked, then felt a tingle of discomfort move through her. For one fleeting second she'd forgotten about the baggage she'd carried all the way over here.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Sarah said, less than convincingly. Mariella's brow arched. "Seriously. I think...I was just feeling hormonal or something. I didn't want to start blubbering in front of all of them, so…"

"I see…" Mariella replied, her voice softening. "But you're feeling better now?"

"Yeah." Sarah said and re-crossed her arms. "I'm surprised Jareth actually listened to you though. That's new."

"Oh he was far from content about it," Marie was quick to assure, latching on to Sarah's deflection with ignorance. "In fact, I fear myself a flogging for such impertinence—"

"What?"

"But I assume His Majesty did agree if, as you say, he abided!" she interjected, raising her hands up and everything. Her smile strained as a burst of preemptive rage slowly waned from Sarah's expression. Oh, that had been tactless. Perhaps she should cut back on the wine… "The way you carry yourself tonight is important," Mariella went on in a much more level tone. "The way he carries himself around you is important as well."

She was back to smiling reassuringly, but Sarah only looked disgruntled.

"Uh huh. So I keep hearing," she said with a grumble. "He better not even try to touch you though. I'll bring the whole fucking castle down."

"I didn't mean to upset you. I only meant that it would be within his authority," Mariella explained, glancing low at the floor. "Besides, I think you underestimate the sway you hold over him."

"Oh?"

"He threatened to take my life when that monster attacked you—" she started, then panicked when Sarah's chest puffed back up. "But he obviously didn't! When I heard you were injured, I even offered my life as severance. But...actually, he did not punish me at all —because he knew it would upset you," she explained. Sarah remained quiet. "Don't forget, I am your servant, Sarah. In society's eyes we are not equal. That will never change. But, I'm no stranger to articulating the nuances of my station, even under precarious circumstances. So please, do not fret about me. I know what I'm doing."

Sarah stared very intently for a long moment. Marie looked confident. Not at all worried about a potential flogging let alone a beheading. Such was their way or whatever. But the topic in any capacity was more than enough to bother Sarah. It seemed like every time she crossed one emotional hurdle there was something new reminding her of all he was capable of. But...that wasn't fair. Being capable of something wasn't the same as actually committing —and that sentiment extended to all the other conflicted thoughts she was currently having. *sigh*

She let her passions lull for Mariella's sake, pondering the argument that, more and more often it seemed, she was being faced with all of the ugly things Jareth could do, but in fact hadn't.

"Yeah...I guess so," she ended up saying, choosing to put faith in Marie's discretion and let the matter go. God she could use a drink. "So, you're really okay here then? You don't need me after all?"

"Well of course I need you," Mariella said, with a scoff. "But in this more specific instance, no. I apologize for whatever impression Master Roldan must have made. I never thought to worry you."

Sarah's lips pursed and she glanced across the room again. The gentlemen had gone back to playing and, with Mariella now gone, a few leering lady buzzards were circling in. Apparently siring twelve children made one a hot commodity. She felt a little guilty then, admitting that she hadn't come here to save Marie. She'd come here to hide from herself.

"Well...I guess you should go back then," Sarah said, relaxing her posture. "I don't want to ruin your chances with Mr Chiseled-Jaw-Ten-Thousand over there."

"Are you sure?" Mariella asked, seeing through Sarah's consideration for what it was. "I'd be just as happy to stay by your side, if that's what you'd like."

"Pfft. Yeah right," Sarah said, with an obnoxious fit of laughter. She started shaking her head and waved her off. "No. You go. Have fun. I'll be fine. It's a party, remember? I want you to do whatever you want."

Mariella stared for a very scrutinizing five seconds. Sarah was indeed standing tall, but Mariella could see clear as day she was nervous. Poor thing. She had so much on her plate tonight.

"Very well," Marie said, then hurriedly shooed her out of the room. "Now please, get out of this room will you? Go dance with His Majesty or something. Seeing you surrounded by all this smoke is making me anxious."

Sarah huffed with a grin as she was quite literally pushed away, taking a few steps before finding her own initiative and raising her hands in the air.

"Alright, alright. Geesh. I'm going!" she said, keeping her hands held in a sign of defeat. "Just promise me one thing—" she added, turning back with a grin. "Be gentle with the poor chap. I don't think he has any idea what he's roped himself into."

Mariella blushed but her lips pursed and her brow wiggled in a very cunning way. She gave an arrogant, little shoulder bounce before rolling her eyes away.

"I know. I'm very unsuspecting. But what can I say? Makes things more fun that way," she said, and perked up on her toes before turning and practically skipping her way back to the table.

"Good luck!" Sarah called out, grinning in her wake, then turned around and tried to form her own game plan.


Sarah reentered the main reception hall with a very indecisive pout. Talking with Marie had successfully smothered her angst for the time being, so she thought to ride the high and actually try to go back to enjoying this party.

She stood in the archway and glanced around for Jareth. It would be best not to avoid him again, she thought. She spotted the chairs she'd left him and Roldan in on the other side of the room but, of course, neither one was there.

She placed her hands on her hips as she took a few steps into the room.

There were too many people to scan; many of them were moving quickly, dancing, and obstructing her view. She sighed a little as she debated going through the effort of looking for him again at all, and then a familiar black silhouette caught the corner of her eye.

She glanced to the side as saw Roldan. He was standing alone, leaning actually, against the wall beside her close to the bar. He silently sipped a drink in one hand, and seemed to be people watching just as she was.

She came over and joined him in his loitering.

"Hey," she said. Roldan cocked a brow and peered out his peripheral at her.

"You're back. That was fast," he replied, then took another drink. "Did you find Mariella?"

Sarah placed her hands behind her back and leaned against the wall.

"Yes. She didn't need rescuing though."

"I didn't realize I'd implied she did," he said. Sarah pouted. "Stand up straight. There are people watching."

"You stand up straight," she grumbled, but leaned up from the wall all the same. Roldan sighed but, to her surprise, did as she commanded.

"Oh. That wasn't an order or anything…" she said, with a wince. Roldan took one last look at the contents of his cup before downing the rest of it.

"It was," he said flatly. "You need to be more conscious of yourself and of the way you speak to people."

His tone was empty but Sarah thought she would have preferred a scolding. His present lack of ire only made her feel like he'd given up on her.

"I know. I'm trying," she said. Roldan passed off his glass to a passing waiter but did not respond to her. Sarah's lips pursed as she continued to search for Jareth in the crowd. "Do you know where Jareth went?"

"Hadrin filled your seat after you left. He's been very eager to negotiate expanding the canal into his region so...I assume they left to discuss it."

"Oh," Sarah replied —a bit sullenly. Roldan peered at her from the corner of his eye again. "Any idea when they'll be back?"

"No."

He watched her head lower towards the floor and found himself turning towards her. She looked a little lost. He didn't blame her.

"So...I guess I'm on my own then?" she asked, carrying a strained half smile as she looked back up at him.

"For the time being…" Roldan replied. There was a crease in his brow as he regarded her, as he wondered why the look on her face was something that bothered him. Jareth had said being on her own was in her best interest, but...

Feeling adverse to the blip of sympathy he was suddenly feeling towards her, he turned himself clear away.

"Well...Marie's busy reeling in her prey, so I was gonna ask Jareth to dance or something. But...I guess that's a bust, too." And she slyly peered up at him. "...Do you wanna fill his shoes for a bit?"

Roldan, caught off guard by her question, looked back with something of alarm.

"Pardon?"

They locked eyes but Sarah's expression was completely transparent. She didn't seem to be feeling the same kind of….anything that he was.

"Do you want to dance with me?" she asked him plainly, then watched his brow draw tighter in a manner that was borderline insulting. "You don't have to. It was just a suggestion. I just don't know anyone else here." She crossed her arms and looked away. She'd started to pout, so was surprised when she heard him sigh roughly and offer her an arm.

Sarah looked up skeptically.

"Once again, you fail to acknowledge your position. Nothing the Queen says is ever a suggestion," he said, keeping his gaze straight ahead as he waited for her to accept the gesture. Sarah frowned, not liking all the inadvertent commanding she was doing, but laced her arm with his nonetheless.

"Right…" she said as he led her onto the dance floor.

Space was made for them as they joined the fray. Roldan stopped once they'd made it to the center and turned to face her.

"I suppose, at least this way, you can keep an eye out for your husband," he said, trying to lighten the mood it seemed. He took up Sarah's arms in the proper stance, and soon they were off.

"You assume I'm coordinated enough to do both," she replied. Roldan grinned.

"You did just fine in the Quartet, didn't you?"

He spun them around in time with everyone else.

"Fair enough."

She smiled softly at nothing as she glanced around her. She was hoping this would distract her, maybe even expel some of the energy she was combating. Roldan was a forceful lead, even more so than Jareth, so it was easy to glide along. She remembered a time when she would trip and step on his toes constantly. But, if she was being honest, her current fluidity probably had more to do with their familiarity than any actual skill on her end. They had spent weeks practicing together after all.

"Are you having any fun tonight?" she asked. Roldan lifted an arm to slowly twirl her under it.

"Fun is a baited word," he replied as she turned back to face him. "These things are usually more business than pleasure for someone like me."

Sarah frowned but he didn't see. She was looking through the crowd again. Hm. Still no Jareth.

"That stinks," she said distractedly. "You seem a lot more comfortable tonight than with the Alvari though. Your dancing is certainly better." And she glanced back with a wry curl of the lips. Roldan huffed and looked away —but he was smiling.

"Comfort and enjoyment aren't the same thing. I'm simply better suited for this environment. Here there is order, processes, steps to follow—"

"Uh huh. Type A much?"

He glanced down at her with a puzzled brow, and it was a sight that had Sarah internally laughing. Her grin curled a little more and she turned her attention back to the crowd.

"I will say this though, for someone with as little hip sway as you, you are very good at these formal dances. I kinda see why Jareth had you teach me. You're very good at a lot of things, actually. I can imagine you and Jareth butting heads a lot in school."

Roldan watched her with a sly gaze as she kept her head angled away from him. He didn't respond right away. The thoughts that came to mind were ones he was reluctant to express.

"We weren't taught together," he said, his tone very flat. Sarah peered over. "I was present for most of his and Davion's extracurriculars, but I was bid to observe only."

Sarah's brow drew together, just now remembering what Jareth had told her about his and Roldan's relationship back then. Oh geez. How tactless of her.

"Oh. I didn't know that," she said, lying to cover up the faux pas. Roldan didn't look particularly bothered though. That was good. "Then how did you learn to dance so well? It doesn't seem like something you could teach yourself just by watching."

They moved in a circle in tandem with a dozen other couples about the dance floor. The music was pleasant, the chatter softer, and together the sounds of their surroundings faded into the background. It was a nice kind of ambience. It kept her sufficiently distracted as she continued to scour the crowd. He didn't answer her right away, but it was a pause she didn't notice.

Roldan's brow drew very tightly as he wrestled with a memory, and then he said, with great reluctance, "Actually...it was Aurelia who taught me."

Sarah's head turned sharply towards him, and the tension it created made it clear his response was the last thing either of them expected. He looked a little uneasy, keeping his eyes cast straight ahead and his posture rigid as he moved with her.

"Oh really?" was all she could say. In the effort to remain nonchalant, she removed her gaze from him. The last time he'd spoken that name, he'd started screaming at her. True, they'd since reconciled, but...she couldn't help but feel suddenly on edge. She never expected him to be the one to bring her up, which left her even more surprised when he kept on talking—

"She...was nervous about her own wedding celebration," Roldan said, his eyes lowering as a peculiar urge took hold. "It was her first time performing the Quartet. She wanted someone to practice with so...I filled Jareth's shoes."

"So...she didn't get to practice with him either?" she asked. Roldan huffed.

"It seems not."

Sarah started to frown. She knew him speaking to her about this was a big deal, but she wasn't sure what it really meant. Was he simply...more comfortable with her now? Did that hug actually release one of the shackles he kept barricaded around his heart? Was he actually starting to heal?! Goodness she was being dramatic tonight…

"Well...she was a really great teacher then," Sarah said. Again Roldan did not immediately respond, but this time she was paying attention and glanced up at him shrewdly.

Roldan was staring off into the crowd again and he looked...very sad.

"She was."

Sarah licked her lips and readjusted the grip she had on his shoulder in an anxious manner. This conversation was getting very moody and she knew well enough that this was not the time for her nosy nature to be rearing its ugly head.

"Thank you for telling me that, Roldan. I know it must not be easy."

There was a lull in the dance as the current piece ended and a new one began. They came to a near halt and crossed gazes. Sarah looked worried. So did Roldan.

"On the contrary…" he started, stepping forward as the second dance began. "I told you precisely because it was easy." His eyes lingered on hers for one more second before turning away. Sarah regarded him with a look of sympathy. "I've never...spoken of such things. It's nice, I think...to do so."

There was a calmness in his voice that didn't match his disconcerted expression, but together it painted something Sarah did understand. She smiled a little as she stared at him. Hm. Who'd have thought all it took was a little acknowledgement?

"Hey, that's what I'm here for," she said light-heartedly, and successfully elicited a laugh from him. It made her smile even more and brought her a moment of genuine ease. Huh, so he was actually kind of pleasant when not bogged down by five centuries worth of turmoil? Go figure.

Content with the break in conversation, Sarah looked away as they continued to dance. She felt very pleased with herself, victorious even. And then her eyes spotted something familiar out in the crowd.

Sarah's lips pursed as she cocked her head to the side, exuding a level of distraction into her posture that Roldan was able to pick up on.

"What's the matter?" he asked. Sarah shook her head a little and then peered back at him.

"Nothing really...I'm just a little concerned."

"About?"

"Amara."

Roldan's brow twitched and he frowned, impulsively looking over in the same direction as Sarah.

"Why?" he asked. Sarah's pursed lips pursed harder.

"I keep seeing her sitting by the piano over there—" and she gestured at such with her chin. Roldan's eyes honed in and located her.

"And?"

"And I think she's been there for a long time now." Sarah turned her worried look up at Roldan, but his returning expression was abrasive. Sarah ignored it. "Have you talked to her at all?" she asked. Roldan's ears flexed. He didn't know why.

"Not since breakfast," he said.

"Hm.." Sarah looked back over with intrigue. "Isn't it kind of weird though?"

"Is what weird?"

"That she's still sitting there."

Roldan, for whatever reason reluctant to look over and spy on the girl in question, did so despite himself. Indeed, she was both sitting and alone. Though, to him, looked to be quite merry —bouncing a foot along to the music as she observed the room. Her dress was silky, a shiny light pink and...exposed a lot of skin.

"I couldn't say," he responded, tearing his gaze away sharply.

"Well, I mean, look at her. She's so pretty and sweet. And she's the Lordess of this borough and also the host of this party. You'd think men would be clamoring all over her."

"You would think."

Sarah did not register his brusque tone and peered up at him with a sharply arched brow.

"You seemed to make a good impression on her earlier. Maybe you should ask her to dance."

Roldan scowled his most scowly scowl.

"Is that so?" he asked, sardonically. Sarah shrugged.

"We are her guests, aren't we? I just feel kind of bad...seeing her sitting there like a wallflower."

Roldan's lip curled in a distasteful smile and he averted his eyes. This tangent had put him back to his usual mood. Thank gods.

"Perhaps then you should implore your own husband to dance with her. I'm sure the sentiment would mean more."

Sarah narrowed her eyes and looked up at him.

"Geez, you don't need to get so defensive. I wasn't about to order you or anything," she said beratingly. Roldan's look of displeasure was steeled. Sarah scoffed at it. "What, did she offend you at breakfast or something? She only had good things so say about you —made me wonder if we were even talking about the same person."

This time it was the muscle in Roldan's jaw that flexed.

"No. She did not offend me. But, I highly doubt she would appreciate someone propositioning her out of pity—"

"Then don't do it out of pity," Sarah cut him off like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Do it to be courteous. You're supposed to be a gentleman, aren't you?"

Oh. And now he was challenged. Roldan glared at Sarah and her arrogantly raised brow with a twinge of vexation. Gods damn she was persistent.

"If it means so much then you should do it."

"Oh, you know what? Forget it," she said, suddenly fed up and nearly breaking out of step. "I didn't think it was going to be that big of a deal. I just thought the girl deserved to have some fun at her own party."

She shook her head and growled exasperatedly, making an expression which Roldan was quick to mirror. He was about to retort when she was suddenly pulled out of his grasp.

Sarah gasped as she spun back, eyes widening before landing in the arms of her long lost husband.

"Hello darling. I see you and Roldan are back to baring your teeth," Jareth said, swaying her in time like he'd been there all along. Sarah recovered her bearings and glared.

"Ugh. Don't do that. You scared me."

"Ah, but that's precisely why I do it," he said cheekily. Sarah drew back. Something about him was different. He looked...happy. "You're drunk," she stated. Jareth's grin widened.

"Far from it, love. Although I am very pleased to have escaped Hadrin's clutches. You should be more considerate when abandoning me—"

"Wha? I didn't—" Jareth mocked her outburst by spontaneously twirling her, clutching a hand low across her back as he pressed her close. Sarah leaned in and sniffed. Oh yeah, he'd definitely been drinking. "But, wait, Rolda—" Remembering she already had a dance partner, she cocked her head back in search of him, then blinked rapidly when all she saw was vacant space. Huh? Where the heck did Roldan go?


Roldan watched the two of them canoodle for only one, single second before shaking his head and leaving.

Jareth's sudden appearance was on brand, his flagrant show of possessiveness even more so. Gods, he was such an ass at parties.

He left the dance floor with a rough sigh. Well that killed ten minutes...now what…?

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced around the room. The King and Queen's first dance was a signal that all business was finished, which meant no one here would give a flying fuck about him any longer. But that was fine. He preferred to be ignored.

He walked the few paces back to his spot against the wall. It gave him a good view of the room —well, of one specific part of it anyway. He was offered a fresh drink and took it, his eyes darting over distractedly as the crowd thinned. The way Sarah had brought her up just now made him worry he'd been found, though it seemed it was nothing more than an unnerving coincidence. Still, now the thought was in his head. Now he really couldn't stop staring. She was twisting a lock of hair around her finger. Looking so wistful and lonely and…

Goddamn it. What the fuck was wrong with him?


Amara sat on the edge of her seat playing with her hair as she watched the twirling skirts of dancers pass by her. She always enjoyed this part of the night, if not without a little envy…

Still, she had so much to be thankful for. She was going to be a Queen's Maiden! How exciting was that?!

She was lost in her own daydreams when a rough clearing of the throat distracted her. She glanced up in a gape.

"Oh. Well hello again." Her natural smile spread from ear to ear as she greeted Roldan, though she did not bother to stand from her seat.

"Good evening, Lordess," he said, bowing low before her. "I hope I'm not intruding?"

"Oh heavens no," she quickly replied with a waving hand. "I was just gandering as one does. Is there something I can do for you?"

Roldan straightened but paused. It was not intentional. He opened his mouth to speak but…

Goddamn it.

This was all Sarah's fault.

He forced the instinctive scowl away from his face as he cleared his throat once more and formally extended a hand to her.

"You could give me the next dance, if you're so inclined." He kept his eyes on the floor as he said that, feeling a little proud with how suave he'd just sounded. That feeling was fleeting, however, when what she said next caught him totally off guard.

"What? You mean with me? Really?"

Roldan's brow twitched and he looked up. She was staring at him wide-eyed, looking even more confused than he was. He withdrew his hand and straightened.

"Uh...yes?" he replied. "I've seen you sitting alone for some time and—"

"You were watching me?"

Roldan flinched. Fuck.

"I just meant…" he started, breathing in slowly as strain twitched in his halfcocked smile. "You did not seem otherwise engaged."

"Ah…" Amara's mouth opened but now it was she who hesitated. She didn't say anything else right away. She looked thrown and then suddenly embarrassed as she said, "Forgive me. I did not…I mean, I just wasn't expecting you to ask." And then smiled awkwardly. Roldan tilted his head to one side. "I'm used to sitting on the sidelines, you see. That was just...a reflexive reaction I suppose."

Roldan scowled, staring very intently at the way she rolled her lower lip over her teeth and then bit it.

"Has no one yet asked you to dance tonight?" he asked. A little tick moved through her smile and she even blushed a little. He didn't like seeing that reaction on her.

"Ah...no. Not yet…"

"Well? Shall I be the first?"

He watched her lips purse in indecision, a reaction that he really was not at all anticipating. She looked nervous now, her eyes rounding as she stared up at him.

"I…" she started, the sentence fading as their gazes locked. For a moment he thought she was going to say no —and then he watched the corners of her mouth curl. "I would," she finally said, trepidation shifting into excitement. "Yes. I would love a dance with you."

She hopped to her feet, and he watched as she smiled at the floor while fluffing out the skirt of her dress. Her hair was mostly down, those messy red curls now sleek and tamed and presently obscuring her face. She had little jewels and butterflies that glittered in her hair, but none were as bright as the light in her eye when she finally turned that smile up at him.

He realized he'd forgotten to offer her his hand a moment too late. That didn't matter though. She beat him to it by locking her arm tightly around his. "Lead the way?" she said, clutching his upper arm with her free hand as she stood up on her toes and grinned. Roldan's arm flexed subconsciously, feeling the instinct to lean away from how close she'd come.

The walk to the dancefloor was oddly conspicuous, as Roldan got the feeling they were being leered at. He started to scowl as he brought them into place and turned around to face her.

She looked nervous again, her eyes cast to the side strictly away from him. He contemplated that look while angling her arms into the proper stance, and placed his own hand flat against her bare back.

He stepped forward and she stepped back, the two seamlessly joining the dance. A few moments passed before she spoke again.

"You know...I'm really glad you've asked me, but...I feel I should warn you—"

"Warn me?" Roldan repeated.

"Yes. The men around here know better than to ask me to a dance."

"...Why?"

The way confusion and alarm mingled together in that one word had her giggling. Her hand lowered from his shoulder to his bicep as she shrugged. "Well...because I'm really bad at it," she said, with a self-deprecating laugh. "No...I'm exceptionally bad. Renown even. I want to apologize in advance for crippling you."

She turned her meek gaze up at him with a pursed grin. So far they were moving slowly, so there was little room for error. Still, Roldan had a hard time believing she was that ungraceful. He took her warning in jest and huffed in amusement, but her steadfast stare left him hanging. She was serious.

"Somehow I doubt that. At the very least, you can't possibly be any worse than Her Majesty," he said. Amara's brow drew together in a look of puzzlement.

"What? Her Majesty is a poor dancer as well? That can't be right. I saw the two of you a short while ago and she seemed quite adept. You looked very handsome together."

Her eyes kept darting to her feet, mindful of her movements while they spoke, while her fingers fidgeted in his grasp. His eyes lowered down the front of her distractedly.

"Hm...so you were watching me too?"

He did not recognize the inflection in his own voice. Was that ...playfulness? Amusement? Certainly it wasn't charm… Still, it had Amara's eyes darting up at him sharply.

"Of course I was," she said shamelessly. Roldan, regretting his boldness, tried to subdue the flush he felt building in his face. "You are our esteemed guests. As hostess, it is my responsibility to make sure you are enjoying yourselves." And then she glanced away. Roldan exhaled in relief, though only felt like an ass for daring to misinterpret her intentions. "Are you then?" she asked. Roldan blinked.

"What?"

"Enjoying yourself?"

Apparently he'd missed his cue, as she'd come to stare at him expectantly again.

"I...am," he said, with some ambivalence it seemed. Amara huffed at him and grinned.

"Really? You don't sound so sure. Law of Hospitality dictates that simply will not do. I suppose I'll have to take better care of you—" and she stumbled. Roldan's hold on her steeled on reflex, so she recovered immediately. She looked a little surprised about it, her original thought fleeting as she blinked rapidly and readjusted her grip. "That was close. I'm impressed," she said, and turned her flustered attention back up at him. "My, I don't think I've ever done so much talking while dancing...You should be careful. It would be very unwise to distract me further."

She was smiling but now it conveyed a sense of insecurity. Roldan's expression softened as he regarded it. What an add woman, he thought.

A grin Roldan was not aware of formed his lips just as impulse curled his hand tightly around hers and turned them sharply in time.

Amara staggered but he directed her well, keeping her from tripping and leading her into the next series of steps. She looked even more surprised now, glancing down at her feet repeatedly as she tried to keep up.

"Hmph, you're not that bad," he said haughtily, and pulled her along a little faster. Amara's eyes widened and turned flighty. The arm he held under hers locked and kept her standing straight. "You just need a strong enough lead."

He spun them around and she gasped, her free hand clutching his arm in a fright as her toes just barely lifted up off the ground. Roldan smiled as his eyes lowered over her face, remarking on the twinkle of glitter at the corner of her eye and the way the ends of her hair tickled the back of his hand.

She gulped when they suddenly slowed, and composed herself before looking back up at him.

"Are you trying to challenge me, Sir?" she asked with a stern brow. "Because I'll have you know this is one competition I am more than happy to lose." Roldan laughed. He didn't realize it, but he did. She carried herself so sheepishly, but the twist on her brow was full of flustered obstinacy. "Although I must admit, this might actually be a record. Normally I'd have my partner hobbling off by now."

"You don't seem all that formidable," he replied. Amara's brow lifted, and she looked suddenly stoic as she angled her head up at him.

"Sounds to me like you want your toes crushed," she said, the corners of her mouth curling sweetly. She looked away from him again and focused on her posture. Roldan's eyes traced down the line of her nose… "By the way, there's something I've been wanting to ask you."

"Hm?" He blinked and realized he wasn't paying attention. How long had that silence lasted? She looked up at him again and cocked her head to one side.

"What do I call you by?" she asked. Roldan's brow knitted. "The people in these parts have always referred to you as Lord Steward. But I heard you mention this morning that you are not a lord. I've also heard my father call you by the title of Master, and yet others at this party have not used any title at all. I don't want to insult you, so...what would you prefer me to call you? Steward? Hand? Majordomo?"

Roldan regarded her for a moment, not quite sure why he did not have an immediate answer to that question. Her expression was open, patient. He scowled.

"Well...my title is no more than superficial, so...I suppose...you may forgo them all and just call me by...my name."

He looked uncertain as he said that, but it was an answer that seemed to please her. Amara's smile stretched until it formed a crease in her eye.

"So just Roldan, then?" she asked. He did not speak. "In that case, you may also call me by my name. Just Amara."

"...As you wish."

He swallowed as she turned her smile away from him, nodding her head at a few familiar faces they passed by. She looked so happy. Carrying a natural air about her that showed itself in the flutter of her skirt and the wave moving in her hair. His eyes lowered from the corner of her mouth to a large freckle dotting her chest. The neckline of her dress had little frills on it. Little bits of lace that decorated the front of her bodice. It was fixed so tightly to her he wondered how she could even breathe. She was so thin. One wrong move of his boorish hands...and she might snap.

"You look...very pretty tonight," he said, without any conscious thought. Then, in a fluster, he blinked and clenched his jaw, lifting his eyes from her torso and glaring away. Amara blinked back to attention with a little giggle.

"Why thank you, Roldan. You look quite handsome yourself."

Roldan cleared his throat and stared fiercely at nothing.

"I watched you play earlier...you're very skilled," he replied, trying to change the subject. He heard the faint sound of her giggle again and couldn't help but peer down.

"Now you flatter me," she said, staring up and into his eyes brazenly. Roldan...felt his brow drawing tight again.

"I don't," he said sternly. "Though I've never heard that composition before. What was it?"

"Oh...it was a personal piece. I wrote it for the Queen."

Roldan's head twitched.

"What? You composed that?"

"Ah...yes?" she said, with a humble little wince. "Writing music is a passion of mine. It was the best thing I could think of to offer Their Majesties."

Roldan's confusion only worsened. Now he looked a little bothered.

"You should be showing in exhibitions," he said, beside himself. Amara shrugged.

"Oh, I have. I actually have quite the repertoire under my belt. I've licensed a few pieces too...You might have even heard some of them before."

"Like what?"

"Oh...I don't know...Callisto Opus...Grande Chalance number one...those were pretty popular…"

Roldan's scowl broke into a look of disbelief as his brow lifted high up his forehead. He didn't believe her. Was this a joke?

"You wrote those?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. So you've heard of them?"

Roldan blinked and subtly shook his head. He was still trying to focus on their dance (she really did have no form at all), so it was hard to settle his thoughts.

"I heard Callisto Opus played at the Jejuan Praetorium some years ago," he said, and then tilted his head a little. "But I never would have thought the composer was someone…"

"Like me?"

He peered up and locked onto her gaze. When he registered something of disappointment haunting hers, he realized what an ass he'd just been.

"That's not what I meant," he quickly said, but the deed was done. Amara's eyes lowered to his chest.

"It's alright. I get that a lot."

And now he was scowling again. Bloody hell—

"I didn't mean to insult you," he said, subconsciously squeezing her hand a little tighter. "You're just—"

"I know," Amara cut him off, not wanting to bother with what remained of that sentence. She'd heard it enough times already. Roldan shut his mouth. "Still...I haven't written anything serious in a few years. The piece I played tonight was my first major project in...gods I can't even remember how long," she carried on, relieving him of his guilt when really he wanted to explain. All he'd meant was that she seemed too young to create something with such depth. Both pieces she'd mentioned were exquisite. Complex and melancholic, but still so pleasant to the ear. He was ambushed by a multitude of questions, and a surprise sense of admiration that he obviously did not know how to express.

It bothered him that his carelessness had put such a dour look on her face. He felt the hand at her back tightening, pushing her closer to him.

"Well...they are all very beautiful. Truly."

Amara looked up. Her lips had drawn into a pout. Her eyes were large on her face and now close enough to count the individual flecks of blue in each iris. Roldan felt drawn in by them, by that soft, striking green.

"Thank you," she said and meant it. Roldan stared, his eyes flickering to her mouth as she spoke. He forgot what he was doing. Forgot...everything.

Amara's eyes widened and she yelped, her portrait suddenly ripped from his field of vision as she tripped and fell straight into him. She started laughing as he caught her, grasping her by the shoulders as he helped her stand. "Oops. And there it is," she said, pushing back the hair that had fallen over her face. She smiled bashfully, then placed her hands against his chest as she stepped back and glanced at their feet. "I'm sorry. I told you I was going to step on you—"

"It's fine," Roldan said brusquely. Damn. It was just like that morning. You'd think he'd have a better handle on himself the second time around. He reached up and clasped her hands with the intention of removing them from his chest. —He didn't. "It was my fault. I wasn't…paying attention."

The panic faded from Amara's face as she stared at him, and her smile both softened and warmed. The sound of the music fell to silence in the background, and everyone around them came to a standstill shortly after.

Taking cue from their surroundings, Amara pulled her hands loose and lowered them to her sides.

"Hm...it looks like that's it," she said with a shrug. Roldan's brow furrowed as he continued to stare at her. "Thank you again. I know you probably only asked me out of pity, but...I had a lot of fun," she continued, awkwardly reaching up and twirling a lock of hair. He didn't say anything, which only made her more indecisive. Her eyes darted to the side and she took a step back. "Sorry for falling on you again. Hopefully your shoes aren't too scuffed...Enjoy the rest of the party." And she turned on a dime. By the time he saw the back of her head, the impulse had already won.

"Amara—" he said, then clenched his jaw tightly shut. Saying her name felt inappropriate. Obscene. He didn't realize he'd reached out as he spoke and, in a compulsive moment of shame, lowered his arm just as she turned back around. The look on her face was curious. Attentive. Roldan felt his teeth grinding. "Would you...like to go again?" he asked, quirking a brow as his eyes averted. "...without pity this time."

He watched her smile. Watched her face light up to a degree that could melt glaciers. She angled back to him fully, and reflexively glanced down as he offered her his hand.

"You're brave," she said, then angled her head in suspicion. "Or maybe just a glutton for punishment?" She teased him with a giggle. He might have blanched, but, before he could do anything, she placed her hand in his and squeezed as she stepped towards him.

She lifted their hands into a not-quite-right position and placed her free hand over his shoulder —and the fact that he was so mindful of the way her thumb pressed against his clavicle had him immediately regretting his impulse. He frowned and tensed the hand holding hers, then realized at some point her bold little fingers had begun to twine with his. She smiled up at him, and, as the music was fit to resume, his hand moved a little lower down her back...

"By your lead," she said, and smiled.


Sarah grasped Jareth by the back of the neck as they danced. She had to. Keeping a delicate hand at the shoulder wasn't enough. He was having fun with her and, despite her tense, uncouth tendencies, twirled and bent her about with pride.

He pulled her up from a low dip and allowed her a moment to breathe.

"Are you sure you're not drunk? You're dancing like you're drunk," she said, urging him to move slower lest she lose what remained of her equilibrium. Jareth huffed but complied, resigning to a simple turn about the floor.

"Yes, well...I may have felt suddenly dehydrated while you were off...elsewhere." He held her possessively by the lower back and began to sway them in an informal manner. Sarah glanced away as her hand moved down his chest. He'd caught her so off guard she didn't have time to be broody, but that comment just now...

"Maybe you should slow down then. I'm nowhere near where you're at," she said a little nervously. Jareth leaned in and ran his nose over her ear.

"No? Have I not seen you with a chalice all night?" he asked. Sarah cocked a brow and looked back at him.

"Yeah. Water."

Jareth reflected her deadpan expression before shrugging it off.

"Hm, oh well then."

He leaned down and placed his head against her shoulder, devolving their waltz into a prom-style slow dance that the other dancers had to actively avoid.

He was embracing her. And, as random and suspicious as his current behavior was, it felt...nice. She gave in to rest her cheek on his shoulder as well. She glanced around the room and, surprisingly, spied Roldan and Amara dancing together across the way. She looked happy —despite Roldan's scowl. Huh. Maybe he was a gentleman after all.

"Did you and Hadrin hash things out?" she asked Jareth.

"More or less."

"Do you usually conduct business at events like this?"

"Sometimes."

She pursed her lips and stared at the floor. She felt very at ease in his arms. She needed it...but she didn't trust it.

"We're going back to the Goblin City tomorrow, right?"

There was a slight hitch in the way Jareth moved as she said that, but it was too subtle for her to notice. Oh, so she'd reverted from calling it home now? How sobering. His eyes, once closed, slowly opened as he replied, "Yes. We should leave first thing in the morning if you want to be back in time for your playdate with Delphine."

Sarah leaned up and turned her head towards him.

"So I can go?" she asked. With a twinge of resentment, Jareth leaned up off of her as well.

"That was never my decision," he replied. Sarah furrowed her brow.

"What do you mean?"

They were standing still in the middle of the crowd now. Jareth's eyes averted as he swept her back into some kind of rhythm. His earlier frustration cut through his stupor with no effort whatsoever, which had him pining for another drink.

"You're The Queen. I cannot deny you what is rightfully yours," he said.

Sarah's tight brow evolved into a scowl. He sounded suddenly exasperated and he wasn't looking at her. What the heck?

"You said I was grounded. Said I couldn't leave the castle indefinitely—"

"I also said I would only physically stop you from doing something if I felt it posed a danger to you," he stated. Sarah pouted her lips. He wasn't making any sense. Jareth, fully aware of how she was regarding him, sighed through his nose before continuing. "I'm not so thick as not to realize you were obeying my decree out of sheer consideration," he said, and glanced down to cross gazes with her. "And, while I appreciate it, I don't think you're so thick as not to realize you have more power than that."

Sarah held his gaze. He'd become serious, but it only made her more confused.

"Jareth…"

"You're still taking so many things for granted, dear," he interjected, then averted his eyes once more. Sarah frowned. "I wonder what would have happened had you actually tried to go outside?"

"You're confusing me," Sarah said, searching his face as if the answer to this riddle might somehow reveal itself there. He was drunk. A little bit anyway. And the fact that he'd suddenly become so, so quickly, made her worried.

Jareth paused. His jaw clenched. She thought he looked a little frustrated. And then he sighed.

"I know," he said, then took a deep, calming breath. "When you ask permission for something…" he continued, lowering his eyes back to her and locking gazes. "—It grants that person the power to offer or deny it. You give them authority. But if you simply do things. Well…"

"Then I'd be you?"

The inflection in that retort was indiscernible. It might have been derisive. It might have been frank. Regardless, Jareth took a moment to stare at her very intently before responding.

"Then you'd be free," he corrected, halting their dance altogether and placing his hands low on her hips. Sarah's eyes darted, caught off guard by the severity of his gaze and the myriad strangers who might also be privy to it. And it was severe. Imperative, actually. He allowed her a moment to process before asking, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Sarah gaped. What the hell kind of ambush was this? Was this the alcohol talking? She licked her lips but...the words were reluctant to follow. What was he getting at exactly? That her lack of personal freedom was self-imposed? Hadn't they argued about this before? Or was he jumping ships? Trying to act like it was just so easy for her to call his bluffs and assume she would get her way with belligerence alone.

But she did assume. He was right —she was always assuming. He'd told her she was grounded and she listened. Not because he necessarily had the authority to do so, but because she willfully placated. But...but that wasn't fair! He'd proved himself plenty capable of following through on certain threats. It would be sheer negligence to go and defy him just for the sake of it. She'd learned that the hard way. Repeatedly.

And he dared to stand there and lecture her on freedom. She was beside herself, honestly. Heh, freedom...what the fuck did that even mean anymore?

Feeling so very, very exhausted —and for the sake of her own sanity— Sarah chose to write off this wishy-washy bullshit on the alcohol, and glanced away.

"A little…" she said, at a frustrated loss. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was never really grounded. Or maybe he was just fucking with her head again, trying to twist things around in that special way that only he could manage. He could lock the fucking doors with magic so what exactly was he trying to prove? It irritated her. These word games irritated the hell out of her. Her jaw tightened and she gulped, and it was a show of contention Jareth regarded all too easily. He frowned at her, then raised a hand to her cheek.

"I'm not trying to upset you. Just the opposite in fact," he said, then tilted his head as he brushed his thumb along her cheekbone.

"Then speak plainly for once, will you?"

She sounded more impassioned than she'd intended, which had her resenting their current surroundings. Jareth, however, did not seem to care. Maybe it would be better for them to leave...

Jareth bit his cheek as he watched the turmoil he'd reignited flare within her. This was hardly the setting, but, after the way she'd ran from their issues at the first opportunity, he knew it was a matter that needed to be thoroughly dealt with —if not for her sake, then definitely his own.

There was little he could do, however. He wanted her to feel free. He wanted her to be free, to assume her freedoms rather than expect him to grant them to her. Gods, she'd practically asked his permission to have a walk across the room! That wasn't the Sarah he knew. It was, however, the one that he'd made. Realizing this frustrated him; for even he, in all his deviousness, was self-aware enough to acknowledge that no amount of privilege would make up for what he'd taken: her choice. And she would never feel the kind of liberty she craved until she was allowed to finally make it.

It was about more than just visiting her family, it was about establishing her identity —It was about knowing, without a doubt, that where she was was where she actually wanted to be.

But what could he do? The more time he spent with her, the more he came to depend on her presence by his side, the more he questioned whether or not he was even capable of giving her that choice without the assurance that what she would choose would be to be with him. And that was really the point of it all, wasn't it? His selfishness. His fear. His ability to give her everything she wanted but nothing she needed. And, whether for better or worse, he'd started to hate himself for it. He hated how much he needed her. All he was doing was confusing her, he knew that. He just didn't know...what else to do.

"You are free here, Sarah. You are not free to leave, but...you are free," he said.

"What are you talking about? We're married. I'm a queen. I have responsibilities—"

"Yes but…" and he sneered a little as he looked away. He was going about this all wrong. He couldn't properly articulate himself. Gods dammit, the room was looking hazy. Maybe impulsively drinking anything he could get his hands on was a bad idea after all. "I want you to start realizing those are not shackles but weapons. Use them to your advantage."

Sarah glared up at him and the way he'd turned abrasive. He wouldn't look at her. There was tension in his jaw. He was being a fucking hypocrite.

"That becomes pretty meaningless when I can't use them against you," she said. There was a pause. A heavy one.

"You can," Jareth said, and turned to look her stern in the eye. "...and you know it."

Sarah ground her teeth. She didn't reply. His eyes on hers were austere, cutting. It might have intimidated her were it not for the muscle that flexed in his cheek. No, in reality he was nervous, vulnerable, revealed by the way his tone had dropped to a quiet, intimate tenor.

She knew what he meant. She knew what he wanted her to understand. But still, the sway she held (as Mariella had put it) didn't matter when he could freeze her to a wall with a mere thought. And the legal power she technically had over him didn't mean anything when there were no witnesses around to enforce it. He was telling her to fight a battle that was already lost, leaving her to wonder why she still needed to fight it at all.

She was getting more and more frustrated as she thought this, glaring up at him and wondering what the fuck was going on in his head. He kept his stare on her, his brow turning down in disappointment. And from that she knew...he wasn't fucking with her. He was pleading. And she thought...maybe what he was trying to convey was simpler than all that. Maybe she wasn't the only one in this relationship who was getting bothered by the shadow he cast.

"Alright…" she finally said and glanced away to the floor. "I get it."

"Good."

She wasn't sure she really did, but her tone had been convincing enough. It was almost unbelievable that he, of all people, would be the one telling her to be more assertive; but the fact that this conversation was happening at all made her realize that her dependence on him had become more profound than she'd previously wanted to admit. Trailing behind each other all night would make us look weak, he'd said. It was actually good for you to show confidence and go off on your own. She thought back to her trepidation to leave him in town, to her nervousness to be without him at dinner, the way she searched for him near desperately when she came back in from the patio, and all the other times she'd instinctively looked his way before making her own decisions. Hm, maybe he was right. And maybe that sentiment applied to more than just this party.

"How are you feeling?"

Sarah, with a stern scowl marring her face, looked up at him impulsively.

"What?"

"You said you've felt ill the last couple days...you look a little tired."

Sarah looked away and pursed her lips. They were still dancing, albeit barely. Her hand, exuding lingering frustration, squeezed onto his a little tighter.

"I...am. It's been a long day."

"Shall we retire for the night?"

The tone of his voice had softened, turned placating. She wasn't sure she was ready to accept it.

"Can...we even do that? Shouldn't the guests of honor be here?"

"Did I, or did I not, just get through explaining the nuance of asking permission?" he asked. Sarah sighed, subtly shaking her head.

"Oh...right."

"So?" Jareth asked, ceasing their movement and lowering the hand he held to the space between them. "Will you come away with me?"

Sarah hesitated. That question felt...weighted. It felt purposed and, honestly, a little triggering. He was giving her a choice. A small, but nonetheless meaningful, choice. She could tell him no if she wanted. She could choose to play it safe and keep them surrounded by expectant witnesses. From the random flutter in her chest, she knew that option would be better for her health….but not tonight. Time to meet him halfway, she thought. Time to get this over with.

She bit her lip with a very worried look as she replied, "Okay."

Jareth lifted her hand and kissed it, and in the next moment they were back in their room. The sudden silence felt more like a vibration as her ears adjusted, the quaint crackle of the fireplace doing it's best to fill the void. Jareth lowered their arms again, brushing his thumb over her knuckles as he looked at her.

"Do you…" he started, then cut himself short. His brow furrowed tightly. Sarah frowned.

"Do I what?"

His troubled stare lowered to the floor, then he released her hand.

"Never mind," he said and turned away. He walked a few steps away from her, then dragged a tired hand over his face. Sarah started to worry as she watched him, even taking an instinctive step towards him. They were each silent for a moment, and then he seemed to compose himself as he turned around and asked her, "Shall I help you change?"

Sarah nibbled her lip. His mood swings were unsettling her and now they were alone without the defense of an audience.

"Sure," she replied, then lifted her hair as she turned her back to face him. He came close to her, she could tell by the tingle at her spine, but he just stood there. The silence stretched. She was about to turn around, but instead fought off a nervous shiver when he reached out and ran the back of a knuckle down her shoulder.

"Have I told you...how beautiful you look tonight?"

Sarah gulped.

"Um...no."

She felt him trace the hem of her gown and she had to readjust her grip on her hair. She was staring at the door, her eyes darting around anxiously. She couldn't get a read on him...or herself.

"Forgive me then."

She heard the top hook on her dress click open, and she swayed from the unexpected force of it. He continued downward, gently grasping the two halves and releasing the tension in each little hook. The clicks played a metronome for her nerves steadily building in her chest. Just standing there was starting to make her emotional. She didn't get it.

He finished with her bodice and pushed the fabric open. She heard him take a small step forward, and nearly flinched when he grasped her by the arms. She gulped again when he leaned down and planted a kiss on her shoulder.

She felt the return of that unnamed plea in his grip. A longing that spoke through the contact of his lips as they lingered on her skin.

Sarah gulped a third time, fighting off a flare of heat that moved up into her face. She wanted to turn and look at him but couldn't. Instead a protective hand raised to her stomach. Right. They still had that to deal with too. She couldn't handle all this—

"Jareth, I—" she said, then was painfully cut short by her own emotions. She swallowed back the break in her voice and turned herself towards him. "I need to tell you something. I'm—I'm—" but the moment her lips shut, they sealed. Sarah stared straight into his eyes and tried, really fucking tried, to just say the fucking word. Her lips pursed so tightly in the effort to do so that she ended up subconsciously biting them. He looked taken aback, but she couldn't stop herself. Her brow tightened and turned down. Her face flushed and her eyes welled, and, as she proved herself more and more cowardly, she began to shake as that fear and that stress quickly overpowered her.

She started to cry, hot pent up tears streaming from the corners of her eyes as she clenched her mouth tightly shut and trembled in place.

Jareth did not ask what remained of that sentence. He only reached out and pulled her fiercely into his arms.

He clutched the back of her head and pressed his face into her hair, wrapping an arm tightly around her back in the effort to gentle her.

"It's alright. Calm down," he said, the sentiment left hot and muffled into her hair. Such words only made her cry harder, because he really had no idea why he was even saying them. She was hesitant to return his embrace, but was able to raise her hands and grip the sides of his jacket as she buried her face and sobbed.

"No it's not. You don't get it. Jareth, I—"

"I know," he said, and wrapped both arms around her in a vice. Sarah shook her head. No, he really did not know. "I'm sorry."

He whispered against the side of her head, uttered the words with such earnest they actually broke through her fit. She hiccuped and sniffled, and pulled on his jacket even harder.

"You're sorry?" she asked, her addled brain wondering if maybe they were actually on the same page. Jareth inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

"Yes," he said desperately. "I'm sorry for taking you away. I'm sorry for ruining you. I'm sorry that I can't give you back."

No, they were not on the same page. But this was just as important. The tangent helped grant her bearings, and she took back a modicum of control. Jareth's hold on her was unrelenting, frightful. She closed her eyes and pressed herself further into it.

"You-you s-said...you would n-never be s-sorry for that," she managed to say, and could feel her knees actually weakening from the effort. Jesus fucking Christ, when did she get so pathetic?

"I know what I said."

Sarah closed her eyes and pressed her forehead into his shoulder.

"J-Jareth…I don't think I can do this anymore—There's too much...there's just too much…"

"You can. You have to—"

"Why? Because I don't have a choice?" There was a rise of disdain in her voice as she said that, as she haphazardly pushed away only to throw herself back into him. Jareth's eyes closed and his jaw clenched so tightly he felt it in his ears.

"Because I'm begging you to."

His voice was full of regret and remorse and hopelessness. Sarah drew back from him sharply and glared with bright, tear-sodden eyes.

"You don't need to beg. You've already won."

Her emotions got the better of her just then and she knew it. She regretted the words as soon as they were uttered. God, they were supposed to be past this. She was supposed to have let go of that resentment—

"Sarah, I lost the day I met you," Jareth said —and her tears stopped. She stared at him on a precipice, and by the way he tensed his jaw and scowled she knew he'd spoken just as impulsively. He exhaled through his nose and reigned himself in. She had her hands pressed up against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding. "Did you mean it?" he asked in a much calmer tone.

"What?"

"When you said you love me. Did you even mean it?"

Sarah blinked and pulled away from him. He'd caught her off guard, her mouth hanging open in an ambivalent gape. She was too worked up. She couldn't process—

"Ah—I—"

"Because I love you so fucking much it tears me apart," Jareth continued with a rise of emotion that she was not expecting. He brought his hands to hold the sides of her face and stared deeply into her eyes. "I hate who I am because of you. I hate what I've done and how I've hurt and all the things I cannot do to fix this. Over and over we do this, and it never seems to matter. I know you want to leave. I can see it in your face. And I am sorry. I can't stand how much I don't want you to leave."

In an effort of self-preservation she darted her eyes to the side. His had become searing, and the hold he had on her face consumed her. Her heart was fluttering in her chest. Her eyes were hot. She was starting to feel a little nauseous when she closed them and shook it all away.

"You said I couldn't leave even if I tried. Am I supposed to call that bluff too?" she asked him, trying her best to remain composed. She looked angry now, her brow twisting together in the center. Jareth stroked away some of the tears on her cheeks.

"That wasn't a bluff," he said, cherishing the way she turned into his caress. "I cannot take you back. Only the forces of Nature can do that and they are not easily persuaded. But that's not the point. The point is I don't know what to do anymore." And he bit his cheek in frustration. Tell her, a voice spoke from deep in his mind. Just tell her the truth.

A wave of fear accompanied those thoughts, a weight so heavy it smothered them in their tracks. Oh, how he wished it were that simple. How he wished the only consequence of honesty would be losing her affection—

"If it were possible and I chose to leave, would you even let me go, Jareth? Would you? Or am I just assuming things again? Not using those weapons you so graciously forced into my hands."

He was pulled back to the moment by the sight of her glare, the glimmer on her eyes strengthened by a gloss of stagnant tears. Jareth's hands on her face tightened instinctively. That was answer enough for her.

"I...don't know," he said, losing all sense of passion as defeat set in. There was no way out of this. No way other than to return her home. He didn't know how. But he would not risk her life for this. He'd rather she hate him.

"So what do we do?" she asked, glancing away as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Where are we supposed to go from here?"

That question was his own and so was the turmoil.

Jareth's eyes lowered as his grip fell slack. His hands started the slow procession of releasing her, his gloved fingers trailing reluctantly down her face.

"All this time…" he started, and she looked back at him. "I know that I've been forcing you to stand by me. I gave you little room, so maybe it was easier to convince yourself of feelings that aren't actually there." The tips of his fingers pulled away from her jaw, and the coldness left in their wake was enough to provoke her. Her chest puffed in the preparation to speak, but he didn't notice. "I can't set you free," he said, then clenched his jaw tightly. "But...I can give you a choice. I...will no longer force you. That much I can do."

Sarah's eyes widened as she watched his hands lower to his sides. She moved in towards him, alarmed by how far away he seemed.

"Wha-what are you saying?" she asked. Jareth, steeling himself against her, turned his head away as he stared at a wall.

"You are a queen. You were right that you now have responsibilities you cannot escape. But...I need not be one of them. In fact, I don't want to be your responsibility at all." His hands curled into fists as his expression filled with disdain. Sarah blinked away her tears as confoundment took over. "I want you to be with me because you want to be with me. And if you don't...well…" His voice trailed off as a thought played behind his eyes. Sarah watched it leave with a worrying brow. "The castle is more than big enough to live separately. I've had one superficial marriage. I can stand to have another." When he finally looked back at her it was with fierce conviction. Sarah was left speechless against it. She only stared. "So tell me, what do you want Sarah? What do you really want?"

What was happening?

Were they...breaking up?

What the fuck?

How did they even get here?

The panic Sarah just felt fading returned tenfold as she stared at him, as she tried her very best to understand what he was offering and why. He'd forced every step of this relationship onto her. He'd forced every ounce of agency out of her. She had every reason to deny him. He'd done horrible things.

So maybe he was right. Maybe her feelings for him were no more than a defense mechanism. That's what Liana had encouraged. That's certainly what she'd told herself she was doing on the night she finally let herself smile while he held her in his arms.

But these last few weeks did not feel forced. They did not feel contrived or deluded or false. In fact, the weight in her chest that was currently bogging her down was the most real thing she'd ever felt. She loved him. She could not help but love him. He was twisted and kind. Horrible and tender. He was hers and he was everything. And he was...trying to let her go.

She licked her lips as panic set in. She wanted to reach out but felt barred. What did she want? She wanted trust. She wanted to feel safe. To be loved, and have the liberty to sieze her happily ever after. She wanted her dreams. She wanted her home and her family. She wanted more than Jareth or this one world could offer. She wanted them both. She wanted them all.

She closed the small gap between them and wrapped her hands tightly around the back of his neck as she stood up on her toes. He was still waiting for her answer, staring down with a look that was already shattered. Her eyes searched his, and then she decided.

"Everything," she said, the word passing worn and winded by exasperation. Her eyes wilted, and she shook her head as a misplaced smile ghosted across her face. Her fingers tightened, pulling him down a fraction of an inch as her head angled down and her eyes slowly closed. Their foreheads touched as she repeated, "I want everything."

Jareth's eyes closed. The feeling of her fingertips curling into his scalp calmed his heart, but he might as well have swallowed his tongue. He breathed in slowly as he savored the feel of their noses brushing and the heat on her skin. He had no idea what had just come over him, and was at even more of a loss over the fact that he really meant it. She was right. It was just too much. Always brimming just beneath the surface...

His father would disown him if he saw him like this. Would call him weak and pathetic and cowardly.

Tension built on his brow as he reached up and lightly grasped her wrists. He was about to pull them away when she reacted. Her face angled up, and her eyes slowly opened.

His gaze on hers was a mere sliver, but it was enough to regard the mist that steadily built in hers. Her lashes fluttered. She was waiting for his move. He was determined not to make it when she pressed up and kissed him.

His hands tightened around her wrists, but he could not help but stand stock still. This was too good for him. There was no way she meant it.

Their lips parted and their tongues met as slowly, achingly, their kiss deepened. Jareth felt tension leave his shoulders even as bitterness built. He could feel the tear streaks on her cheeks. Hear the faint sniffle in her nose that accompanied each breath.

Sarah's hands curled in his hair, and she leaned her weight against him as she stood to the very tips of her toes. She angled her head and he accommodated her, kissing him so slowly and with such arduous intent it was impossible to refute.

Her chest expanded on an inhale, and then she lowered her hands to his shoulders and began pushing off his coat—

"Sarah…" Jareth said, pulling away as he clasped her hands with the urge to stop. His eyes opened but she was already staring through him. She kissed him once more then shook her head.

"No," she said, tightening her grip on his collar. "I don't want to talk anymore." She brushed her nose against his and lured him into another kiss. His hands were still holding hers. They released her effortlessly when she started shrugging off his jacket again. "I'm tired Jareth," she muttered against his lips. "Tired of thinking. Tired of feeling...so fucking shitty. It's like we just keep on crashing the same car. Over and over." She released his coat after it rounded his shoulders and let it fall heavily to the floor, then began working her way down the buttons on his vest. "I know you feel that way too. So just…"

Her hands pressed up the center of his chest and wound back into his hair. He felt her frustration. Felt her loss and her longing. Felt her confusion and their shared moment of weakness.

Her head lowered and now pressed sullenly against his clavicle. She resided there in defeat, in despair. By her unspoken command, he reached up, lifted her towards him, and kissed her.

He felt his heart settle as he held her there, as her breathing shallowed to fall in time with his. His mind cleared of everything but that kiss. Everything but the fact that, somehow, she'd taken a step towards him.

His hands moved downward over her shoulders, down the exposed skin on her back. His fingers traced the curve of her spine, inching ever subtly behind her open bodice to grip the back of her hip.

She stood flush against him in that embrace, savoring the mindlessness of the moment. He was being so gentle. Moving so slowly —and then she reached down to pull loose the hem of his shirt.

He did not try to stop her this time as she pushed his vest off of him, nor when she bunched up his shirt and pulled it over his head. She broke from the kiss and looked down to his chest. He was wearing his pendant. Her thumbs lightly brushed over it as her hands pressed against him.

A leftover sniffle escaped her, and she stared at the well of his throat like she just didn't have the energy to do anything more.

It'd always been easy to deflect from their problems with sex. Even easier to convince themselves that was the same as solving them. That seemed to be a shared thought as they stood together. As they held onto one another but dared not to do more. They were afraid. Afraid of what would happen should they enable one more mistake.

But to her that trepidation meant something else entirely. It meant that this time he cared for more than a quick fix. It meant that this wasn't one.

Her hands felt their way down his stomach, pressing against the hard muscle before curling around his hips. She angled her head back again and fed into the impulse that sparked when their lips inadvertently touched.

The wile in her kiss was more demanding this time, pushing apart his lips as her fingers tightened on his hips. She felt his hands flex against her back, hesitant for only one more second before maneuvering into a possessive embrace. He reached beneath her gown and widened the halves, then slowly pushed it off of her.

Sarah's hands lifted to hold the column of his neck, a sign of encouragement as he unclasped the back of her bustier. He pulled it away from her, and she no sooner pressed her naked breasts against him as her passions gained fervor.

He tore off his gloves and dragged his bare hands down the full length of her back, holding her deathly close before reaching down and running them over her rear. He murmured into her mouth, both their eyes closed as he locked his arms and lifted her, carrying her over to the bed.

He pulled back the duvet with one hand then laid her down, tossing the blanket back over her as he hastily removed the remainder of his clothes.

One of her feet was exposed. He abruptly yanked on it until she laid out flat on the bed.

She lowered the blanket from her face just as he pulled off her shoes, watching him kiss the top of each foot before lifting the blanket and crawling his way underneath.

She felt soft kisses leading up her thighs, and warm hands that held them gently apart as she relaxed back against the mattress.

She closed her eyes as his lips neared her groin, as his fingers pulled back the hem of her underwear and carefully removed them from her.

His lips ghosted across her stomach, which she instinctively sucked in.

Her eyes sprang open and self-awareness nearly hit her as the tip of his nose trailed from one hip to the other, but the way he carried on upward quelled that anxiety. He kissed just below her belly button, leisurely moving up the center of her stomach until the anticipation had her arching up against him.

He kissed each of her breasts, moving feather-light caresses around each nipple, which hardened and peaked as he breathed.

She sucked in her lips as she began to move, shifting uncomfortably as her brow tightly furrowed.

He was careful not to touch her anywhere else. Although, as he came closer to eye level, she could not mistake the brief contact of his hardening erection as it grazed her stomach.

She sucked in her stomach again but this time her back arched in contrast, brushing the peaks of her nipples against his chest. She made a little noise in response, her mouth opening on an anxious breath as he lowered to his elbows and sucked on her neck.

The feeling was sharp, unexpected. She angled herself both to and away from it. Another breathy murmur escaped her as her hands moved to his shoulders. She felt the muscles there flex and shift as he lowered his weight onto her.

She was caged by his arms curling around her head, trapped by the way his fingers pulled on the hair at her crown.

She felt hot, encumbered by the weight of his body against hers, and enflamed by his breath at her neck. Her legs spread a little wider, her hips trying to grind against his erection as it pressed against her pubic bone, but she was unsuccessful. He would not move.

She bit her lip and scowled. This felt painful. The ache in her heart was painful. She just...wanted release. To let go. To feel...good. She wanted all of him. She wanted him now. She wanted him to take her, to be swept up and swept away and swept under all the things that were making it so hard for her to breathe. Her hands clawed down his back and pushed on his hips, and finally got their way. His cock ground firmly against her clit and she moaned.

Jareth paused and was forced to pull his mouth away. His shoulders tensed as she coerced his movements again, this time inching herself higher up the bed as her head angled back. He closed his eyes and groaned. She had their bodies pressed so tightly together, every little twinge had his cock pulsing. He was getting harder, lengthening as his breathing labored. Sarah licked her lips as she braced him with her thighs. He could tell she was getting impatient. Every undulation moved his hips lower and lower…

He made a low noise of pleasure when she angled her pelvis sharply up, bringing the tip of his cock to tease at her entrance. His arms flexed again and he pressed his forehead against her temple. She was getting so wet. All he had to do was push forward…

She jerked on his hips and pulled him in, just an inch, and moaned again. She wanted more. She wanted everything, but he resisted her greedy hands as best he could.

But it was futile. He wanted her just as badly. His hips began to rock of their own accord, penetrating her a little more each time. The tension between them was so strained they were both panting through their nose —one of Jareth's hands turning into a fist in her hair as he held her in place.

She caressed the pads of her fingers up his back, and turned her head to the side. Her gaze was hazy when she kissed him, when he kissed her and lost it all.

His free hand wrapped under a thigh and held it wide as he sank himself within her, swallowing her moan and stealing another when he pulled back and sharply thrust in again. She was so warm. So soft. So sweet, and somehow still his.

She hugged his back and wound a fist around his hair, using it to angle his head and kiss him as deeply as possible. She needed to feel him. To taste him. To lose herself in the validation that this was her choice. This was what she wanted. But it was hardly enough. She wanted more. She wanted it all. But...he could work on giving her the rest tomorrow.

She felt a pang deep in her abdomen that bloomed with each of his thrusts and was soon to replace the one in her heart. He moved so slowly. So carefully. It was the closest thing to gentleness either of them were capable of.

You should tell him the truth, a voice echoed. If ever there was a moment, it was surely now. Surely after such unbridling something like a suspicious surprise pregnancy was just one more thing.

But of course, there was always just one more thing. There was always something brewing and brooding, just waiting to tear them down into whatever this was. And, from the scowls on their brows and the plea in their kiss, neither one of them doubted their inability to endure anything more.

No. She could not handle just one more thing. Not tonight. And neither could he.

Her moans became higher in pitch, her wide-splayed hands on his back more desperate. He kissed her face, kissed her neck, and buried himself there as he fought to outlast her.

She cradled him, cherished him, came as close as she could to forgiving him...


Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose as she staggered out onto the walkway. The morning sun was bright, obnoxious, and brought with it a merry breeze that was filled with twitter of birds and the giggles of halfcocked fairies.

Mariella was standing at the end of the walkway. Sarah scowled as her eyes adjusted to the natural light, and came to stand by her side.

"Hey. Morning," she said, lackluster. Mariella looked over with a smile.

"Oh. Good morning Sarah." Her tone matched that of the birds. Sarah rubbed circles over her eyes.

"How was your night? Did you bag that count?" she asked, sighing as she dragged her hand down her face. The curl that spread Mariella's grin would have given the Cat of Cheshire himself a run for his money.

"Oh...did I," she said —down right dastardly. Sarah cocked a brow as she laughed. Then her eyes flickered to her neck.

"So I see. Nice hickeys."

Mariella blanched and glanced down like she might somehow see them and then tossed her hair back.

"Why thank you," she replied, so smugly. Sarah huffed. For a moment she thought Marie's response was meant to be playful, but then she remembered their people wore love bites with pride. Oh geez. Was Marie on cloud nine?

"You sound extra persnickety. Was he everything you were hoping for?" Sarah asked. Mariella gave a coy little shrug and pretended to glance at something else.

"He was...adequate," she said coyly. Despite her tone, her brow twitched and her lips curled. And, if that wasn't telling enough, then the way she twirled a lock of hair around her finger definitely was. Oh yeah. Something was certainly adequate alright.

"Well that's good," Sarah said with amusement, and then turned her attention to the goblins below as they loaded their luggage into their carriages. They were standing on a little step overlooking the drive. It was barely 7 am, but already their dallying was pushing it. They needed to leave "bright and early" Jareth had said. He'd offered her some coffee for the road but...ya know...

"Are you alright?"

Sarah, falling dazed as she watched the goblins move about, blinked over to find Marie staring at her with a tilted head.

"Huh?"

"You look very tired. Are you feeling well?"

Sarah's brow knitted in a little scowl.

"Yeah. I just...didn't sleep very well." Her voice trailed off along with her roaming gaze as she conspicuously glanced away. Mariella frowned.

"...I take it you finally told His Majesty?" she asked.

"What?" Sarah replied on impulse, and looked over sharply. "Heh. No. No, of course not," she said, then shook her head. Welp, so much for feeling drowsy, Sarah thought. Who needs caffeine when you've got panic? Mariella frowned even more.

"Sarah…"

"I mean, I tried," she interrupted, with an exasperated smile cocking one corner of her mouth. "I almost did. I swear. It just…" and then she closed her eyes and scowled. "Things got...a bit complicated at the party. There was something else that insisted on being dealt with and...I just couldn't do both."

The sound of a carriage door slamming shut signaled it was almost time. Mariella pursed her lips as she pondered, then reached out and caressed Sarah's arm.

"I see...how are things, then? You look a little worse for wear."

Sarah inhaled very deeply.

"Things are...in the air," she said, then exhaled. "I think...I think we had a bit of a breakthrough, but...it's hard to say...where exactly we stand with each other right now." Her eyes gradually lowered as she spoke, falling into introspection over the memory in question. She was exhausted. After the heat of the moment died down, they'd spent most of the night just...talking. And it was about...well, nothing really. "We talked about my home," Sarah continued, blinking slowly. "About going back to the Aboveground. I think...he finally gets why kidnapping me was such a bad thing —which is good. But at the same time...it doesn't change the fact." It might have just been her lack of rest, but she was feeling less than optimistic after last night's blow out. They seemed...guarded now. The way they carried themselves around one another was cautious. She didn't like that. It only confirmed how fragile things still were. "And...to make things worse," she went on with a roll of the eyes. "—it turns out I can't go home anyway. Something about magic and Nature and contracts. I don't know. He said he's going to work on a way around it...make something up, I guess."

She finished her sentence on a sigh, staring vacantly at the ground with a deftly arched brow. Mariella was staring contemplatively, and then her head tilted to the other side.

"But...that's great, isn't it?" she asked. Sarah glanced over. "Weren't you so upset by the idea that he would never allow you to leave?"

"Yeah…"

"Well —to me— it sounds like he's now willing to do so. Even going out of his way to make it happen. Isn't that...a really good thing?"

"It is," Sarah concurred, though her expression had turned hard. "—but words and actions are two different things. He can say if I could, I would, all he wants. But I...at this point, I think I need something more concrete than that."

"I understand," Mariella said in defeat. Well poo. And here she thought the festivity would help distract Sarah from her troubles, not instigate them. Maybe she should have stayed by her side after all. "I'm sorry your night ended so messily. Perhaps I should have stayed with you—"

"No. No, I don't want you to feel guilty," Sarah was quick to say. "I'm a big girl and, like I said, it was a matter that needed dealing with."

"Hm…" Mariella stared very intently for a long moment. Sarah's lethargy made it hard to get a good read on her. She was, after all, crabby by nature first thing in the morning. Still, what else could Mariella do but what she did best? One emotional support nymph to the rescue! "You should take the time to relax on the journey back, then. Stress isn't good for your health."

"I know," Sarah said, then crossed her arms. "I know half my problem is just me being too afraid to tell him. There's just been...so much else going on. All the time. All morning I kept trying to imagine ways of bringing it up on the way back. Two days stuck in a tiny compartment should provide plenty of opportunity, but...the whole thing is just making me feel worse." She reached up and clawed a hand around her forehead. Mariella tried her best not to make her next words sound too patronizing.

"Well...then as I said, perhaps you should relax?" Sarah peered over with a raised brow. "Maybe...don't think about it so much? Don't worry yourself about having to tell him. Just let it come on its own."

Sarah stared at her very suspiciously, but only responded with a vague, "Hm."

Mariella clicked her teeth and clasped her hands together. Let's try this another way...

"Why do you think you're so afraid anyway? Are you still worried he lied about the contraceptive?"

Thankfully there was no one else nearby to hear them, though Sarah's eyes instinctively darted all the same.

"...Not really," she said and then slowly scowled. "No. I don't know. I really don't know what I'm feeling much less why. I just clam up every time I look at him." And she nearly threw her hands up in the air. She calmed herself and crossed her arms again before continuing. "—and I guess...because we're always so rocky, I'm just afraid of how this will change things. Maybe it'll get better. Maybe not. But...I don't have any idea how children, let alone royals, are raised in this world. And, if the stories I've heard about Jareth and Davion's childhood are meant to serve as any kind of reference, I think my misgivings are fully justified."

Marie's expression turned down in sympathy. Her fingers started to fiddle, fighting the urge to reach out to her again.

"His Majesty's father was...a special case," she said very softly. Sarah looked back up at her. "Not all Underground parents rear their offspring in such a manner or with such...expectations. I can promise you that."

There was a little tick in Sarah's brow, and then she looked away again.

"I know you're right. I do. Still...it's hard."

"Well, how about this," Marie said, clasping her hands together. "You're meeting with Queen Delphine at the end of the week, right?" she asked. Sarah nodded. "She is also a bride of conquest, yes? And has recently birthed her first heir? Maybe take these next couple days to calm down. Then you can meet with her, speak with her, see for yourself first hand what that future might be like. Maybe it will...give you the grounding you seem to be looking for in order to confront His Majesty."

Sarah thought about that for a minute, all the little switches in her head clicking in succession.

"...Okay," she eventually said, though skeptically. "Yeah….yeah that makes sense."

"There," Marie said and steepled her hands together. "Now, take a deep breath and let allll that anxiety go." She fanned out her hands in a gesture that had Sarah grinning in spite of herself. She shook her head a little as she closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose—

"Queen Sarah!" Before she could exhale, both Sarah and Marie looked over at a very wide-awake Amara fast approaching. Sarah turned around to greet her. "—and Lady Marie! Good morning!"

"Hey Amara," Sarah said. Marie smiled very widely.

"Good morning to you as well."

"I'm so glad I made it in time," Amara said, keeling over a little as she caught her breath. She looked winded, her hair all in disarray as she haphazardly pushed it back from her face. She was holding a covered basket, which she gripped with both hands as she straightened. "I was worried you might have already left. I'm not very good with punctuality. Not very fit for a lordess, I know. Please don't tell Father I was late," she added on, still huffing and puffing. Sarah chuckled to herself.

"Hmph. Don't worry about it," she said.

"Yes, you'll fit right in, Amara. Sarah is late for just about everything," Marie piped in, leaning around Sarah's shoulder. Sarah drew back in mock offense, but Marie only grinned.

"Oh you jest, surely?" Amara asked, distracted by fluffing out the big, red bow on the front of her dress. "I am very excited, though. I might burst by week's end." When she was all put together, she looked back up with a huff. Sarah found it kind of comical that someone as rambunctious as her would bother wearing such complicated dresses.

"I can't say you won't be bored from time to time, but it's certainly an experience," Sarah said. "Just remember, you're free to come home whenever you want."

"That is most gracious of you, Queen Sarah. You have my father and I's deepest gratitude," she said, and extended the basket to her. "On that note, I was hoping to give you this in thanks."

Sarah accepted the basket with a quirked brow.

"What is it?" she asked, slyly peaking beneath the lid. Amara's grin curled on one side.

"Scones." Both Sarah and Marie peered up. "I told you my father would have some when he returned from town." She tacked on a wink at the end which made Sarah smirk. Amara clasped her hands behind her back as she nodded at the basket. "He doesn't know I've taken these, but it's in his best interest. Now he has reason to go see her again. I hope you enjoy them. They are actually very good."

Sarah, happy to forget her troubles for one fleeting moment, let her smile linger as she closed the lid.

"We will. Thank you, Amara. That's very sweet of you. They'll make good snacks for the road."

"I do hope so," Amara replied with a satisfied grin, and then her eyes caught on the movement of the goblins mounting their seats. "Hm, looks like you'll be departing soon. May I give you a hug?"

Sarah blinked.

"Um...sure?"

Before she could blink again, Amara had her arms fully engulfing her. Sarah didn't know why she was surprised by this. She had fully established that kind of behavior first. When Sarah was good and squeezed, Amara drew back and set her sights on Marie.

"And you Lady Marie?"

"Well of course!"

Sarah grinned as the two fae ladies dramatically embraced, then gave her attention to Amara as she stood back and took each of their hands.

"Farewell my friends. I pray for you a safe journey on behalf of all Sulu. Now, please excuse me, I have chores to do."

She released their hands and bowed her head, then stifled a giggly smile as she turned and dashed away.

Sarah stared on in a daze. Holy hell. What a happy person. She had a feeling she was going to rely on her quite a bit in the days to come.


Amara was practically skipping as she rounded the threshold of the main doors —left propped open while the goblins scurried about. She wasn't paying attention, so stood no chance at all against the supposed brick wall she suddenly crashed into.

"Oof!"

She stumbled back quite a bit and was surprised to be caught before falling into an actual wall. She looked up and shook her head at a very alarmed looking Roldan.

He held her tightly by the shoulders, his eyes on her intense and extremely displeased.

"Oh. Goodness. We really must stop meeting this way," she said with a chuckle, and stood to her feet. Roldan, recovering his own bearings, kept his eyes strictly on her as he released her and straightened himself up. Amara's bold gaze gave him a quick and blatant once over. "Good morning, Roldan."

"Good morning, Lordess," he said, sounding a little gruff as he ran a frazzled hand through his hair. Amara's grin curled deviously.

"Amara," she corrected. He did not respond. Only scowled. She gave him a little push. "Go on. Try again. Good morning…?"

One of her hands slowly twirled in the air. It was a playful, if not condescending, gesture. Roldan averted his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Amara."

"That's better," she said with a satisfied bounce. "I know you're readying to leave, so I won't take up too much of your time but —did you have a good stay? I hope we were able to improve your regard of this place."

Roldan's brow twitched in confusion.

"My regard?" he repeated. Amara's eyes darted to the side.

"Oh. Yes. Well...Queen Sarah mentioned you said something about rural communities being filled with a bunch of dirty, backwater idiots who could not carry out a conversation let alone lace their own boots?" she said, the inflection in her words turning ever upward as she said them. Roldan flinched.

"I...ah…"

"Well? Has your opinion improved?"

His mouth hung open. He'd anticipated a scolding or worse —a fit. This was not the first time he'd offended a noble. What she gave him, however, was a completely candid expression that had a disturbing way of worming its way into his very soul.

Her stare was commanding, though unintentional. His brow knitted together as he struggled to break from it.

"...It has," he finally said. "Exponentially."

She released him from his prison with the flicker of a smile.

"Good," she said, then reached out to adjust a broach on his vest that he'd apparently missed. "I'm glad I ran into you, by the way," she continued, then tilted her head with an amused huff. "Well, not glad I ran into you literally, but...oh you know what I mean." When he was good and proper again she placed her hands flat to his chest and looked up. "I was worried I wouldn't get to say goodbye."

The way she leaned into him made him want to run away. She was far too aggressive for a woman of her station and, more importantly, oblivious to the concept of personal space. Her proximity had him fighting off a cringe, but he endured it nonetheless.

"I had a lot of fun with you last night. Thank you," she said. And now he was scowling again. He reached up and took hold of her hands, this time determined to remove them from his person. He did, surprisingly, but she only held onto his right back and then lowered them to hang in the space between them. "I really enjoyed our conversation on Capabelli as well. Perhaps the next time we meet we may talk more."

She tilted her head and swayed their hands, leaving him stupidly aware that he was still holding them. He tried to steel himself but nothing happened. He only tightened his jaw before tentatively saying, "Well...it seems I'll be heading back here in a few weeks to take a final tally on the construction effort. Perhaps...we will cross paths then."

The way she smiled so suddenly confused him.

"Oh, I think we'll cross paths well before that."

"Pardon?"

"Did...you not hear?" she asked. He did not respond, although his stoicism couldn't have phased her less. She squeezed his hands in sudden excitement as she said, "Queen Sarah has offered to take me on as a maid. Isn't that exciting?!"

Roldan's eyes widened.

"...What?"

"So, naturally, I'll be moving to the Capital. She suggested I take a few days to sort my affairs and say proper goodbyes, so I'll be arriving separately at the end of the week —she's so considerate, isn't she? I'm feeling a little jittery already but oh, I couldn't be happier!" Amara prattled on, bouncing up on her toes and jerking his hands with her. "I've never been outside our three districts before. I can't wait to see the heart of Orpia. And I've heard such marvelous tales of the Labyrinth and the Goblin City...is it as wondrous as I imagine?"

Roldan, still fighting through both dubiousness and her girlish fervor, blinked rapidly as his brow turned up.

"I...highly doubt it."

"Oh Roldan, you're so nonchalant," she said dismissively. "I'm very much looking forward to expanding my horizons too. I hear His Majesty's library is the envy of the world," she added, leaning in surprisingly close to his face and then drawing back in embarrassment when she realized it. She bit on her lip and settled herself down. "But...look at me, rambling again. Forgive me. I'm told it's a rather annoying habit."

"It's not..."

He looked oddly disgruntled to the point where Amara was now biting on a grin.

"He said with a tight-lipped scowl," she said, teasing him. He glared at her reflexively but she'd already dismissed it. "You don't need to flatter me, Roldan. I'm well aware of my shortcomings." The way she said that so casually bothered him. He opened his mouth to retort but, of course, she could not be stopped. "But are you happy for me? I'm sure we'll be seeing a great deal of each other now."

He had no idea if she was actually done and waited an extra beat in case she started talking again. She didn't, just kept on staring at him with that sweet smile. A part of him wished she had kept on talking, for he had no idea what to say. He was too distracted by their hands. By the fact that he'd, at some point, started to clutch hers back—

"Ah. Amara. There you are."

Roldan's hands released her like he'd been burned and he took a healthy step back. Amara, distracted by the voice of her father, failed to notice any part of this reaction as she turned and looked into the foyer. Eines was making his way over to them —and he wasn't alone.

A myriad of feelings Roldan hated to name compelled his head to lower as he prayed, for some fucking reason, that Jareth had not seen the two of them just now.

Eines grinned with a great deal of satisfaction as his eyes scanned over his daughter.

"And look, you're even exactly where you're supposed to be...for once," he said. Amara narrowed her eyes.

"Please don't try to condescend me in front of His Majesty. It makes you look like a cad," she said haughtily, which was enough to make Jareth grin. She looked over to him and bowed. "Good morning, Your Grace. Will you be departing us now?"

"Yes," Jareth said, then inclined his head towards her. "Though, from what I hear, you'll be following suite."

"Indeed. Her Majesty is a very kind-hearted person. I'm very grateful to her for the opportunity, and have every intention of serving and protecting her to the best of my ability."

Jareth's grin twitched. He'd bet Roldan's favorite black jacket she'd practiced that in a mirror.

"Well said, Lordess," he said, trying not to tease. "Safe travels."

"And to you as well, Your Majesty."

Jareth shot his gaze at Roldan and, with a curt jerk of the chin, gestured they get a move on. He continued on after that, leaving the three of them behind.

Amara went to her father's side and laced her arm with his before looking back at Roldan.

"Well, goodbye for now," she said.

"Yes, and have a safe journey back. It's always a pleasure, Master Roldan."

Roldan's eyes, still stuck on Amara, flickered to Eines. Thank gods, he thought, finally breaking free of his asinine mood in order to nod and bow before them.


Sarah glanced back over her shoulder at the sound of footsteps as Jareth approached. She didn't greet him, only braced as her eyes lowered to the ground. Mariella watched this with worry, until she saw the same exact look on Jareth's face as he stepped close and placed a hand low on her back.

They looked...bothered. But, the way they turned into each other revealed something that apparently only Mariella could see. Her expression softened as she watched it unfold. Oh, they really were hopeless.

"Are you about ready?" he asked. Sarah nodded.

"Yeah. The goblins are finished too."

"Good," he said, then lightly brushed her hair behind her ear. She didn't recoil from the gesture. No, if anything she actually leaned into it. "Let's get going."

His arm lowered back to his side while hers crossed defensively. Mariella tilted her head as she watched Jareth walk away then and there.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," she said, testing the waters. Jareth paused and spared her a glance.

"Good morning, Mariella."

He walked away from them towards the carriages, leaving Sarah to stare longingly after him. She did not realize this of course. No, Marie and her discerning eye seemed to be the only things capable of knowing exactly where those two stood.

She thought about dawning this epiphany upon poor, pitiful looking Sarah, but held her tongue. Sarah's fingers were gripping her arms as she stared at him, whatever she was thinking being just barely restrained. Hm, no. They'd figure it out themselves soon enough.

"Did...he just say my name?" Mariella asked in disbelief. Sarah looked over and shrugged.

"Yeah, he did, didn't he? Weird."

Yeah, weird, Mariella thought. Down right inexplicable...


A/N- yeah...so chapters, Um...What?, Secrets part 1, 2, and 3, were all meant to be one fucking chapter...Safe to say shit got away from me. Oh well, more angsty-romantic-fantasy-escapism for you, right? lol. For those of you wondering: no, J&S will not be in this limbo state for long and *that moment* will be coming right along in the next chapter. Promise. *wink* Can't say if this will be updated by Christmas. So if not, Happy Holidays!