A Twisting Heart And Mind

by FangamerBowiextreme

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

38. Precipitous

A/N- I got another whopper for ya, folks. It's well passed midnight as I sit here finalizing these edits, and I have a feeling I'll be making furious corrections/reposts come the morning (I always do. eek.), but...maybe not this time? Fingers crossed anyway. Enjoy.

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Chapter 31, Precipitous

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Roldan kept his eyes closed on a long blink as he opened the door to the library. The faint gust left in its wake was cool, a symptom of early morning, and helped perk up his attention —if only marginally. He was starting earlier than usual today. His stomach felt...off...when he woke that morning, so he'd foregone breakfast (and his usual coffee), and decided to get straight to work instead. If he allowed himself to think about it, he might guess what the problem was quite easily. Alas, he did not.

Introspection was overrated. Barreling through like usual was in his best interest, he argued. Hopefully, it'd help him forget what was eating at him.

He let out a tired exhale as he entered the room, and then scowled as if —by sheer will— he could force the fatigue away. It wasn't like he was unused to starting the day at such an hour. Certainly, daybreak meant nothing to him at all; which meant the true problem...probably had something to do with all the restless thoughts that had kept him awake most of the night. —or lack of coffee. Yes. Yes, let's go with the latter.

He shook his head and closed the door quietly. He was being stupid, and now it was making him physically ill. This was just a normal day. He had more important things to focus on. There was nothing significant about it at all—

He stopped dead mid-step as he hit a sudden, and near literal, wall of scent.

It was so strong he nearly coughed, his distracted self gaining full lucidity as he reflexively grimaced then turned away. Dear gods. What in the actual fucking hell—

And then he realized.

Oh. Of course. The fucking.

His gaze, scanning the room fiercely while he actually held his breath, landed on the source of all that chaos peeking out from over the rim of the couch.

He saw the crest of her bare shoulder first, then the silhouette of her hair as it pooled over a pillow. He took one step closer —just one— to see what exactly he was dealing with, and felt his ears tense as the curve of a naked waist pulled his gaze downward still.

She was laying on her side, on the floor between the couch and the fire, facing away from him. A silken blanket covered her from the hips down (thank gods), but the teasing shadow lining her spine was more than enough to spark a heat in his face. Panic and embarrassment screamed for him to run far far away, but he didn't —even when she shifted against a cold draft that sent that paper-thin blanket inching even further downward.

Why…

Just why?

He wrote his voyeurism off as shock. There clearly could be no other explanation. The last thing he expected to walk into when going to collect documents for the day's meetings was a haze of stagnant yet weirdly rampant sex pheromones. But, ah, he should know better by now, shouldn't he? This was only the most trafficked, most renown, and damn-near sacred hub of academia in the entire province. And there she was, his queen, laying there, out in the open, on the dirty floor, totally nude, shameless, defenseless, looking so sweet and alluring and innocent, and truly gracious to forever imprint his recollection of this —once comforting— space with the image of that.

And of course, she wasn't alone. He supposed he could be at least thankful for that. A second step closer revealed the thing she kept herself wrapped around —an equally debauched and exposed Jareth (also covered neatly, if not just barely, from the waist down). Oh, and what an exhibit they made. Like a couple of animals. His masters. His beloved sovereigns. Looking so adorable and in love with those dirty hands draped over one another.

He did his best to breathe without engaging his olfactory senses. The fact that he needed to do so, in THE FUCKING ROYAL LIBRARY OF ALL GODDAMN PLACES had his lip twitching with a sudden, highly restrained fury. A quick glance around showed him a tousled couch and a love nest arbitrarily fixed on the floor, but thankfully nothing else appeared sullied.

By Jove, did these people not have their own rooms to do this in? Did they not have a few hundred or so other beds, or closets, or fucking gutters to crawl and fornicate in?! No. They haaadddd to choose here. This place. His only scholastic solace. The one place, outside of his own room, that Jareth's juvenile acts of self-indulgence had yet to taint. Gods. He was going to need to disinfect everything. Might as well burn the fucking books too…

He had no idea how long he'd been standing there, staring vacantly while imagining the joy it would bring him to drop a bucket of ice water or —better yet— hot tar on the two of them. Alas, dreams would be dreams. At least now he had something to distract him.

Without a sound, he turned around and went back to the door, then slowly and silently opened it.

A couple of seconds passed, during which the thought occurred to him that, if he was nicer, he could simply be on his way. He could forget all about this, and they could continue to lazily mew until the light of day brightened and woke them naturally. T'would be a quaint thing, he imagined.

Alas, he was not nice. His senses had been scarred. And he knew, by gods how he knew, that he would not forget. Agita ran rampant as he fought against his pettiness over whether or not to be the bigger person —and then he slammed the door shut as hard as he fucking could.

---

The feeling of Sarah's spirit trying to leave her body hit her with a jolt as the resounding boom! of a door slamming shut woke her in an instant. She sprang upward, nearly impaling Jareth in the chest from the abrupt force of her weight being shifted into her hands. He grunted and blinked himself awake as well, not exactly from the sound, but rather by the wind being knocked clear out of him.

Sarah, fueled by sheer adrenaline, felt her body freeze as the clipped sound of footsteps echoing from just a few feet behind her soon followed.

"What are you—"

"Shhhh. There's someone here!" she whisper-yelled. Jareth blinked and focused his eyes on her. Despite his semi-consciousness, it was really quite comical —the sound of her panic paired with two bright, round eyes staring down at him in a blaze. Jareth arched a brow but remained reposed.

"Yes. And this someone can hear you quite clearly."

Dear God, it was Roldan —and he heard her. Well, of course it was, because who else? Still. He knew that she was there. That they were there. And that they were….

Sarah's expression turned frightful as that same emotion had her shoulders cringing. She made a move to sit up, and stifled a gasp when Jareth chuckled, wrapped an arm around her, and jerked her back down.

Her poor center of gravity made her hopeless against it, and she actually fell back into place. Jareth, with a humming grin, turned onto his side and clutched her with both arms, not giving a single damn about the blanket that, from all the fussing, had fallen off of her completely.

"Shh…" he whispered close to her ear. "If we're quiet, he might just go away."

Next came the loud (and discernibly impatient, if Sarah was to personify it) sound of something heavy being slammed down on Jareth's desk all but fifteen feet away.

"Oh, how I would love to," Roldan called out irritably. Sarah flinched. "Unfortunately, some of us have work to get done. If the two of you are finished, perhaps you might clean up after yourselves —or even just have the decency to open the bloody windows."

Oh God. And now her face was red, now it was burning, and she was more mortified than could be fathomed. Jareth was holding onto her possessively, purposefully. That rat bastard was using this moment to tease her and—

"If?" Jareth called out to Roldan, plainly ignoring all of Sarah's griping with sheer delight. "I think you mean when."

He looked Sarah in the eye while saying that, grinning higher on one side as his hands traveled suggestively up her back. Their faces were close. Lingering fatigue made his expression rather charming. If it weren't for her fight or flight instinct telling her RAGE, RAGE, RAGE, she might have been swayed by it.

"Jareth! Jesus Christ, let go of me!" She spoke through gritted teeth and tried to push away, but he only closed his eyes. She continued to struggle for a minute, but his pleasant hum and contended grin were, apparently, a sign that he was now well and thoroughly unconscious. Ughhh.

A snide tch could be heard from beyond the couch.

"You're despicable," Roldan said, shuffling through some papers. "And the smell is obnoxious. Honestly...are you two really still laying there?"

Uh oh. The way he asked that sounded like he might turn around and find out. Sarah was about to start swinging when Jareth suddenly rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and leaving the security of her blanket behind.

One of his knees bent and was revealed from beneath the blanket, and she could feel something pressing against her stomach as she laid flat overtop him. Under different circumstances, she might indulge him with a slight grind of the hips. As it was, her bare ass on perfect display for anyone who might choose to turn around and take a peek was more than enough to render her impervious to the light, playful touches and wicked little smile he was still giving her.

"You'll have to forgive Roldan's poor attitude, love. He has special feelings about this room," Jareth said to her, then slanted his eyes to the left and arched a brow. "Though I must say, you're holding back rather well for someone so pedantic." He spoke louder that time, grinning like a scoundrel as he waited for a prompt huff from Roldan. The he laughed softly in the back of his throat. "If you're so offended, you're welcome to leave," he called out. Sarah gave him a very displeased look. Jareth arched a challenging brow at her, maintaining eye contact as he said, "Or would you rather join us? You might find stooping down to our level to be quite...comfortable."

She felt one of his hands pull back the hair that fell over her back, exposing her even more, while rocking his hips up against her. Sarah's nostrils flared with outrage at such audacity —joking or not.

"Jareth—" Sarah bit out, a warning carried by her last nerve. Despite it, Jareth's smile only warmed. He stared at her deeply, then reached up to clasp her by the side of the face while leaning in close to speak against her ear.

"You realize he would never dare turn around and look at you, yes?" he whispered. Sarah's fury quelled (for the moment). Jareth leaned back to look at her, though his hand remained against her cheek. "Though I see no reason to hide yourself, or be embarrassed of who sees you." She stared at him silently, then he leaned up again, brushing a thumb along her lip as he kissed the corner of her mouth. "You are beautiful," he murmured, and...she couldn't help but turn closer towards him—

"Oh, her sweet Aboveground God, are you serious right now?"

Roldan's rude interruption, compelled out of exasperation, tore that sweet moment of theirs to pieces in an instant. Sarah flinched and blinked back to attention, using that split second of lowered guard to finally wiggle her way free. Jareth sighed as he let her go, restraining displeasure to a mere tightness about his mouth.

Sarah fumbled off of him and feverishly looked around for her clothes, only growing more and more flustered the longer it took. Jareth observed all that gusto of hers duly, then, with a deep exhale, gave in and sat up too.

"Fine," he grumbled, low and to himself, contrasting Sarah by taking his sweet ol' time to pull over his discarded pants and then pull them on.

Sarah eyed him as her own movements slowed. His clothes were right there next to him. So where—

Realization dawned on her just as Jareth grabbed his shirt and stood. Her head turned up to him in a flash, carrying a fervid glare.

"Jareth!" she whisper-snapped. "Where are you going? Where are my freaking clothes?!"

Jareth glanced down and, from that severe angle, the hauteur of it could not be matched. She watched his grin twitch at the corners, and she knew….

Oh, that fucking ass.

"No. You give them back right now. Don't you dare—"

If looks could kill, hers would have twice over when he snickered and casually stepped away. Sarah, naked, hunched over, and doing her best not to growl, was forced to make due with the blanket and quickly cocooned herself in that instead.

Seriously? Was he for real? What the hell kind of middle school, bullshit antic was this? Oh, there would be hell to pay for this, she cursed in her mind. She'd make sure of it.

With nothing left to lose, she let out a huff and abruptly stood. Roldan was there, as predicted, standing with his back to her at the desk directly across from her. Their movements, however, drew his attention reflexively. He glanced back over his shoulder and unintentionally locked eyes with her.

Sarah paled. Roldan didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. She clutched that stupid blanket for dear life, and did her best to utterly ignore Jareth's very existence.

"Um….sorry," she said, and deftly ran away.

---

Roldan's gaze followed with an arched brow as Sarah quickly scuttled out of the room. Once the door shut behind her, however, his attention shifted entirely to Jareth.

He turned around and placed an aggravated hand to the desk while Jareth walked leisurely around the opposite end of the couch to face him. He was still shirtless, and his trousers —just barely pulled up to the point of decency— weren't even fastened. Roldan fought off another groan and rolled his eyes away.

"Honestly, have you no shame at all?" Roldan asked. Jareth shrugged with a look of satisfaction.

"You seem bothered, Roldan. Does my lewdness fluster you?" he asked cheekily. "Or perhaps, is it her lewdness? Did you get a good look before playing the saint?"

Roldan sneered and clicked his teeth.

"Please. I'm not so base."

Jareth grinned to himself.

"Aren't we all?"

There was a drop in his tone, a sign he wasn't fully committed to the conversation. Roldan eyed him as he shrugged his shirt over his head and moved around the desk to stand opposite him.

"You realize I'm going to have to have this entire room and everything in it cleaned now, yes?"

Despite Jareth's dismissive behavior, Roldan was nowhere near ready to let this go. He had a full lecture already prepared, but was left hanging when Jareth's response was a nonchalant shrug.

"If that's what you must do, then I suppose you must do it," he said, sounding too fucking chipper to be trusted. Roldan's eyes narrowed with annoyance. Jareth, catching that disgruntled look from the corner of his eye, smirked before pulling his hair loose from his shirt. "Hmph. Still so ornery. I take it your night did not go as well as mine?"

Great. And now Jareth was teasing him. Roldan slanted his eyes to the side.

"I'm surprised you can say your night went well at all, considering what I heard happened in Yore," he said, crossing his arms in a show of condescension. "Mariella was frantic about it. But, let me guess, all is as right as rain now, yes? Tell me, are you going to let her wile you into overlooking this indiscretion too?"

Roldan's provocations gained audacity with each word, but unfortunately (or, realistically, very much fortunately for him) Jareth was not at all listening. The King had not even bothered to finish tucking in his shirt, and was now distracted with rummaging around in the drawers of his desk.

"No," Jareth replied dryly.

Roldan arched a brow.

"No?"

Jareth paused and looked up, his expression, however, was unfazed.

"No," he repeated, then went back to the search. "Were you hoping I'd say yes?"

Roldan shifted his stance, staring down his nose at Jareth.

"I was hoping you'd say more."

Jareth closed a drawer then opened another, taking a second to *shrug* again in between.

"It's being dealt with and warrants no concern from you," he said, his attention on his mysterious wares without falter. Roldan licked the back of his teeth.

"Uh huh…" he mumbled. "And Sarah?"

"And what of her?" Jareth asked.

Roldan tried not to sigh.

"Are you going to handle her?" he clarified.

Jareth paused. No, he tensed. Roldan could sense it. He would never admit the satisfaction finally getting some form of reaction gave him, and only watched smugly as Jareth's demeanor turned a notch more serious.

Jareth pulled an open box of index cards from one of the drawers, then took more consideration in closing it before speaking.

"Despite my good humor this morning, Roldan," Jareth began to say, setting the box down atop his desk, lightly. "—what goes on between my wife and I is, in fact, none of your business."

There was a hint of bitterness to that statement that in no way went over Roldan's head, and he appreciated it duly. Oh, so he was right then? Jareth was not going to punish her? He sighed to himself, wondering fleetingly what manner of catastrophe it would take before that girl was held responsible for anything.

"No," Roldan said, then angled his head proudly. "—but what goes on between the King and Queen is."

Jareth, thumbing through the cards in clear search of something specific, stopped mid-flick and arched a brow.

"She realizes her error," he said, and resumed his frisking. "—and, I assure you, strides will be made to amend it. Is that enough?"

That question was rhetorical. Roldan knew it, if not from Jareth's lack of eye contact, then from the half-there focus heard in his voice. Before Roldan decided whether or not to respond, Jareth found whatever it was he was looking for and pulled a single card out from the deck. Roldan then watched, with growing frustration, as Jareth's attention fell from the matter entirely as he turned away and looked upwards over the bookcase behind him.

"What are you doing?" Roldan finally asked. He knew that those cards were a file index. He had no idea, however, what Jareth could possibly be looking for so passionately first thing in the morning.

"Looking for some records..." Jareth mumbled. Roldan groaned internally.

"Of?" he asked. Jareth was silent, his eyes searching the shelves high up the wall. "If you speak, I may be able to help you."

"Not necessary," Jareth quickly replied, using a flick of the hand to pull a bundle of documents from the highest shelf with his magic. "I have what I need."

Roldan watched as the parcel floated down into Jareth's hands, who did not bother to offer any subsequent explanation for it. Roldan arched a bored brow.

"What is that?" he asked.

Jareth, ignoring the question, turned around and opened the binding, leaning down for a closer look as he flipped through the first few pages.

"Do I have any appointments over the next few days?" he asked.

Roldan's hands tightened on his arms. Was Jareth disregarding him on purpose? Or was he genuinely distracted? Either way, it was annoying.

"Yes. Several, actually—"

"Wonderful," Jareth said, glancing up just as he closed the binding shut. "Cancel them."

Roldan blinked in surprise, a reaction Jareth seemed confused by as they held each other's stare. When Roldan did not immediately respond, however, Jareth took initiative by giving him another one of those oh-so-casual shrugs.

"Or, deal with them yourself if you want. I don't care."

Roldan could feel his head shaking incredulously as he watched Jareth pack up his things.

"What? Why?" he asked.

"I'll be away for a bit."

"To where?"

"The Above."

What?

Alright, was it just him, or was all of this coming out of nowhere? Roldan drew back as his confoundment deepened, staring with hard eyes and rapid blinks as Jareth (finally) finished dressing himself.

"W-why are you going there all of a sudden?" Roldan asked.

Jareth, while tucking the remainder of his shirt into his pants, looked upward and summoned another book from a shelf. It opened itself to a particular page for him, and he looked, once again, immediately and thoroughly engrossed while reading it.

Roldan watched his eyes scan from left to right quickly.

"...to collect...an asset," Jareth mumbled, then reached up and snatched the book from the air, abruptly closing it with a snap.

Roldan was so confused he just stood there dumbly. A tactful moment passed in silence, and then Jareth looked over at him with a wide smile on his face.

"Are you going to congratulate me yet?" he asked.

Roldan scowled.

"On what?" he countered.

Jareth pursed his lips and glanced around, looking a little confused himself.

"Can you not smell it?"

Roldan's brow went from scrunched to lifted high up his forehead.

"Smell it? I'm doing everything I can not to smell anything right now."

That petulant comment earned him an amused huff. Jareth's grin curled on one side as he tucked both books under an arm and stepped around the desk.

"Hm. That's a shame," he said, and clasped Roldan warmly on the shoulder. "I'll congratulate you instead then. Cheer up, old man —you're going to be an uncle."

He patted befuddled Roldan in a manner as friendly as it was unaccustomed, and walked blithely away. Roldan's eyes widened, and he turned in his spot to stare after him, looking and sounding utterly thrown as he asked, with a rise,

"What?"

---

Sarah shuffled back to her room with a lowered head, keeping her blanket wrapped around herself as tightly as possible as she grumbled. She gained speed as she went, her steps steadily moving up to the tips of her toes to escape the sharp bite of cold floor tiles.

Frickin hell. Could he not have at least left her some slippers? Why was it so icy, anyway? What time was it? It must have been stupid early for the castle to still be that cold...

Light had been shining through the windows in the library —she remembered that much— so she figured it was at least past dawn. Ugh.

Despite her quick start, she did not get nearly enough hours of sleep. Disorientation, panic, and fatigue were only making her freak-out worse. She couldn't get over it. She was fuming and positively mortified. What did Roldan see when he first went in, exactly? She was covered up, right? Oh God, the library was his little safe space. Everyone knew it. He had to be so irritated…

The smell is obnoxious.

He'd said that. Wait, he'd smelled them? W...wait a minute…

Sarah stopped dead as her eyes widened with dread. Oh no. The smell. He could smell them. After all the things she and Jareth had shared and done last night...what exactly was Roldan smelling?!

Sarah actually groaned, she was so embarrassed. The pseudo-sense Jareth had given her had long since worn off, but she remembered the way she'd perceived it all in the moment. If...if Roldan was picking up even a hint of that, then….

Sweet Jesus, just kill her now.

By this point, she had a hand pressed to her face and was grimacing at the ceiling. Her adrenaline spike was starting to wear off, reminding her of how tired she really was by a vague headache felt deep beneath her temples. At least she was out of it now, she told herself. At least she could crawl into the safety of her own bed for a few more hours—

"S-Sarah?"

Sarah opened her eyes and turned around, caught on the spot by Marie.

She looked alarmed. No. Alarmed was not the right word for it. The woman looked damn-near terrified.

"Um…"

"Oh my gods, Sarah, what are you—"

Mariella, having just rounded the corner of an adjacent hall, blinked as if seeing a ghost before rushing in. There was a rise in her voice as she spoke, and an outstretched hand reaching for her —both of which fell dead by the time she hit a five-foot radius. Sarah watched Mariella's eyes widen with knowing before actually recoiling. Oh God. Mariella could smell it too—

"Morning, Marie…" Sarah said, quietly to mask the awkwardness.

Mariella, frozen in place just out of arm's reach, noticeably gulped while curling her fingers into anxious fists held up in front of her.

"What...what exactly has happened to you, Your Majesty?" she asked, her voice squeaky high. Sarah winced.

"Um...well…"

And then Mariella cut her off with a cough.

"I'm sorry!" she quickly said, eyes widening even further with shame towards her bodily reaction. She was still petrified, but was now doing her best to look away and compose herself. "I'm sorry, I just...your smell right now is...it's…" and she raised the back of her hand to shield her nose. "It's a bit overwhelming."

Sarah's mouth, hanging open stupidly, closed to tightly purse as one of her feet began to tap. That reaction...that was even worse than Roldan's. Oh geez. She could feel heat returning to her face, and had no doubt that her entire complexion was beet red. Would it be too much to ask for the floor to swallow her whole? Would anyone notice if she jumped out the nearest window? Almighty Alvra, please, save her.

"Is it really that bad?" Sarah asked, shifting awkwardly as she held the seam of her blanket tighter together. And that's when she realized...the majority of the smell was probably coming from the blanket. Ohhh Jareth, you wily devil, you.

Mariella, unable to look her in the eye, tried her best to do so anyway, even going so far as to clear her throat as she fought back her own blush.

"It is, Your Grace. It's actually um...it's…"

From the look on Mariella's face, Sarah got the impression she was about to start sorting through those various scents. Sarah, not wanting any part of that epiphany, turned sharply on her heel and stormed away.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said. Mariella blinked furiously and chased after her.

"W-but wait! Sarah!"

The beseech in Mariella's voice only prompted Sarah to walk faster, breaking into a brisk pace that she hoped would take her into another freaking timeline. God. She might as well start running at this point. Not like she had any pride left to lose…

She reached the door to her room sooner than expected, and wasted no time throwing it open and rushing inside. Mariella was quick behind, taking time to glance back in their wake before closing it gently shut behind them.

Mariella caught Sarah making a sure b-line for the bathroom, and made one last attempt to stop her.

"Sarah! Please. Please, just wait a moment."

Against her instincts, Sarah paused. She recognized the worry in Mariella's voice, and halted abruptly. Her shoulders hunched as she stared at the floor, however. She was just too freaking embarrassed.

"Wouldn't it be better to talk after I shower?" Sarah called out, just barely looking back over her shoulder. She was surprised to see Mariella's expression twisted with concern. It was enough to make her lower her guard, and even turn around to face her a little more.

Mariella bit her lips, wanting to move closer to her, but was mindful to keep an appropriate distance.

"It would, yes," she said, then inhaled sharply. "But...please tell me what happened first. I...cannot wait another moment longer. Are you...alright? Are you hurt? What happened with His Majesty? Why were you out alone in the hall so early? Why are you in that blanket? And why do you smell like…"

Fright had Mariella's eyes darting every which way over Sarah's person, the tentative movement of her hands just another symptom of the anxiety she'd obviously been nursing the entire night. Sarah remembered just then the note they'd left off on the previous day, and let go of some of her embarrassment as she forced herself to stand taller for Marie's sake.

"I'm alright," she said, assuredly.

Mariella stared for a long moment, testing her, and then sighed in a gesture of profound relief.

"Oh, thank gods," she said, and lifted a melodramatic hand to her forehead. "I don't think I slept a wink all night. I have been so worried for you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left you here alone. I should have stayed, but—"

"Marie," Sarah interrupted, poking out a hand from behind her blanket to calm the woman down. "Please, don't be sorry. I know your hands were tied. It's fine. Believe me, the last thing I want is for you to get wrapped up in mine and Jareth's nastiness."

Mariella looked as though she was holding her breath while Sarah spoke —probably because Sarah was taking tiny steps towards her all the while. Still, she exhaled once they were standing face to face. Mariella's expression had fallen to skepticism, but she did not refute her.

"Please tell me you're really alright, and this isn't just a brave front?" she asked.

Sarah cracked a grin despite herself.

"I'm fine. Seriously. Everything is fine."

Mariella drew back a fraction, her eyes narrowing as they fell over Sarah's rumpled self.

"So...this aroma, then...it's a good thing?"

"What?"

Sarah blinked, staring confusedly until the lightbulb clicked. With a sudden energy, Sarah raised her hands beneath her blanket and waved them quickly.

"Oh! No. No, no, no, it wasn't like that. I mean, yes. Yes, it's good." She tried her best to explain, but could only stammer, still processing the true gravity of the night herself. Was Marie….did she think the scent meant Jareth had brutalized her? Forced himself? She wasn't entirely sure, but that was what the nymph's current expression sure as hell implied. Sarah, knowing she needed to better articulate herself, glanced downward and took a deep breath. "We got in a really bad fight when he came back," she said, then slowly looked up to Marie. "Lots of screaming. It wasn't pretty. But…"

"But?" Mariella replied, curious of the way Sarah's eyes had roamed away. "What happened then? Were you punished?"

A tick in Sarah's brow was a reaction indiscernible to Marie. She could only wait for her to continue speaking.

"No...no, there was no punishment." Sarah's voice fell to a soft tone as she said that, before adjusting her grip on the blanket and carrying on. "We were arguing about what happened in Yore and...then it kind of turned into something else. I...I ended up telling him." She peered over pointedly to catch Mariella's eye. Mariella blinked, her brow knitting in confusion.

"Telling him? What do you mean telling him?" and then it clicked for her too. Mariella's eyes widened immensely as her body instinctively leaned in towards her. "Wh-you mean you told him you're pregnant?! That was the moment you chose to tell him?!"

She sounded positively abashed, and Sarah concurred. She could only bring herself to shrug while glancing away uncomfortably.

"Uh...yeah..."

The intensity of Mariella's stare on her created its own pull which Sarah felt compelled to oblige. She looked up reluctantly to find Marie on the verge of seething.

"Well? How did he respond?!"

Sarah hesitated. The look on her face was pained. In the depths of her mind, she knew Mariella would reach out and shake her if she didn't start speaking soon. Alas, it was like everything was moving in slow motion.

"Um...well...he didn't."

Mariella visibly deflated. Sarah looked away again.

"He didn't?" Mariella repeated. "What do you mean, he didn't?"

"We...were both really angry, and I kind of came out of nowhere with it. So...I don't know. I just told him to leave."

Mariella shook her head in disbelief.

"And did he?" she asked.

Sarah cracked a reflexive smile.

"Heh, yeah. He did, actually. He left. Just like that." She turned and looked back at Marie ruefully. That odd smile, however, only had Marie feeling even more fretful. "I was alone for most of the day, actually. Just kind of...stewing, I guess."

Mariella took a step back, Sarah's smell now the least of her concerns. She looked stunned. Speechless. Sarah tapped a finger as she waited for her to sort through her thoughts.

"Well that's...certainly not what I expected," she said. Sarah nodded. "What happened next? Surely, something happened next?"

The emphasis she placed on the word something made it monumental. Sarah could feel her eyes rolling away of their own volition.

"Well...obviously. I didn't do this to myself," she said, almost laughing, and then cringed when the meaning of her own joke came back at her. "I went to the library to clear my head. Jareth...came back after a while. I think we both just needed time to think. Our conversation then was...much calmer."

Mariella exhaled through her nose, and her arms, with their tight fists, gave in to cross tightly over her chest.

"Well, I certainly hope so."

"Yeah. We um...we actually settled a lot of things, I think. It was good. It was a talk we...really needed to have."

Distraction registered as a loss of passion in Sarah from Marie's point of view. Mariella frowned because of it.

"I'm glad to hear that. But...how was His Majesty's reaction when you spoke? Was he upset like you suspected? What about the contraceptive?"

She was trying to be patient, but gods how could she be? She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that not only was her brash young queen left completely unscathed after an international incident of a truly profound caliber, but that she actually seemed to be...at ease about it too.

Sarah shrugged and turned away, attempting to perch herself on the arm of the lounge chair nearby—

"Oh no, don't sit down!" Mariella practically exclaimed, reaching out abruptly to stop Sarah's derriere from making contact. Sarah stared at her confusedly. "Forgive me…" Mariella amended, quickly realizing her faux pas and backing away with a strained expression. "But...your smell...it will permeate the furniture."

Sarah's brow lifted.

"What?" she asked, glancing at the chair dubiously as she took a step away from it. "Seriously? It's that bad?"

Mariella's smile was riddled with awkwardness.

"Yes...yes it is," was all she could say. Then she steepled her fingers and started tapping them against each other rapidly. "But...nevermind. It doesn't matter. We can always have it cleaned. Please, I shouldn't have stopped you. Sit if you wish—"

"Or I could just, you know, go wash my body?"

Mariella shook her head decisively no.

"Your Majesty, I will hold my breath until I suffocate myself if need be. Please, finish the story?"

Oh, what a wild kind of desperation showed itself in that poor nymph's countenance just then. Sarah gave her an eye, wondering just how much agita her leftover pheromones (and whatever else Marie was smelling) was truly giving her, and internally commended the girl on her perseverance.

"Okay…" Sarah muttered, taking another tactful step back. "So um...he wasn't lying about the tea. I believe him," she started. Mariella sucked in her lips. "I guess...it must have either failed, or it happened before I started taking it. Anyway….yeah. So, he had no idea. I...think I really freaked him out with the news. When he came back and we talked, I realized...he was scared."

Sarah paused for effect, one that was needed as Mariella cocked her head and blinked in confusion.

"Scared?" she repeated.

Sarah bit the inside of her lip and darted her eyes away.

"Yeah. He...was thinking about Aurelia. His first wife?" she said, simultaneously wondering just how much of this story was fair to share with Marie. "Like I said, I caught him off guard with it, so...he started thinking about what happened to her and...was scared that it might happen to me."

Mariella's hands sprang upward to cover her mouth, poorly concealing the look of pity that had her brow turning down.

"Oh, of course. I didn't think of that. Oh, Sarah, that's so sad!" The strength of Mariella's empathy was as intense as ever, and sent Sarah looking sharply away. She didn't say anything right away, so Marie gave her another push. "So…?"

"Um...I don't know," Sarah forced herself to say. She was starting to get uncomfortable now. This information felt...too intimate to be shared. "We….talked it out? And I guess….we made up afterwards. As you can tell."

She made a face and rolled her eyes in a full circle, sacrificing herself to Mariella's eager scrutiny. Mariella nodded repeatedly, still very much stimulated by the smells in question.

"Yes. Yes I can," she said, quickly, then just as quickly changed directions. "Oh, but that is wonderful, isn't it? I was scared what all of this meant when I saw you standing there in the hall, but now it makes better sense. The two of you exchanged pheromones, didn't you?" and then she made a little oops sound as her hands darted up to mouth. "Oh. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even asked that. It's so rude. You don't have to answer me." She shook her head and waved her hands fervidly. Sarah accepted the gesture and said nothing. A moment passed, and then Mariella sighed the remainder of her tension away. "Ah. I'm so happy now, Sarah. Oh, goodness. I'll probably have grey hairs now, but that's fine." Unexpectedly, she reached out and clasped Sarah by the shoulders. Sarah wondered if it was healthy for her to do so. "I truly feared the worst for you last night. I've seen nobles drawn and quartered for lesser insults. Not that that would happen to you, of course; you're a queen. But still. Bless the two of you. You really were not punished?"

Sarah, with a furrowed brow, blinked through the worrying disillusionment of just how badly last night *could* have ended, and pressed on with the conversation.

"No. No, um...that was actually one of the things we discussed. He agreed...not to treat me...or to even threaten me like that...anymore."

Mariella blinked.

"Are you serious?"

She sounded legitimately amazed, the grip of her hands on Sarah's shoulders even loosened because of it. Sarah found that...sad.

"Mhm," she replied.

And then the rejoice returned.

"Sarah...Sarah, that's astounding!" Mariella said, practically giddy. "Is that not terrific progress?"

She was so excited all of a sudden, bouncing on her toes in that way of hers. Sarah, feeling weirdly bashful, shied away from her fervor.

"It is…"

"So then what?" Marie interjected. "What happened next?"

"Oh, um...we camped out in the library until just now when...Roldan kind of...came in."

Her cheek formed a wince, one that was readily and equally reflected on Marie. Mariella's hands fell away from Sarah's shoulders, and now she was fully sobered too.

"Oh," Mariella said.

Sarah quirked a brow.

"Yeah. Oh," she repeated. "He was not happy. I was super embarrassed, and Jareth was an ass, as usual, so I pretty much just ran away as fast as I could. Didn't even get to dress myself, as you can see. I mean, Jareth thought it would be funny to steal my clothes, but...whatever. Anyway, and then I ran into you." and she looked up to Marie with a shrug. "So um, that's basically it...can I go get clean now?"

Mariella drew back with a tiny gasp. Sarah had no idea why.

"Oh! Of course. Forgive me if you felt you needed to ask. You needn't ever get permission from a subordinate, ever. How impertinent of me."

Marie smiled in embarrassment and then bowed her head, needlessly showing deference. Sarah waited until she was finished.

"It's fine," she said when Marie raised her head again. "I know you didn't mean anything by it."

Mariella exhaled in (again, unnecessary) relief as her smile turned more natural. Sarah stepped away, about to turn towards the bathroom, when her eyes spied the clock across the room. It was only six-fifteen in the morning. Six. Fif. Teen.

"Hey…" Sarah said, drawing to a halt as a curious thought wormed through. "What were you doing up so early too? I usually don't see you until nine."

Mariella glanced over at the clock reflexively, her expression perking up with more embarrassment.

"Um. Well…" and then she turned to look at Sarah with a grin. "I was worried about you. I told you, I couldn't wait another moment to see how you were, so...I was coming to check in on you. I thought...if anything, I would just sit here while you slept. Ease my conscience a bit."

She was visibly insecure while admitting that, copying Sarah's shrug at the end. Regardless of Marie's uncertainty, Sarah found herself very much affected by it. Her brow drew together slowly, and a happy grin haunted the corners of her mouth as she said,

"Thank you, Marie. That means...a lot to me."

Content with Sarah's reaction, Mariella's grin became more confident as it widened.

"Of course. You're my friend, Sarah. Expect nothing less."

She clasped her hands together and pointedly dipped her head, eliciting an amused huff from Sarah.

With a smirk of her own, Sarah turned away and went on into the bathroom.

The room felt unusually quiet when she entered, the misplaced sound of the door clicking shut behind her was enough to make her forget she wasn't alone. She kept her hands pressed behind herself to the door for a moment, before leaning back and slumping fully against it.

Gosh. This was actually the first opportunity she'd had today to relax, wasn't it? She'd woken with a jolt, and only now was she realizing how anxious that had made her. She exhaled through her nose, letting the tension fade from her stiff shoulders as she released the blanket and let it fall to the floor.

To be nude, unabashed, and unguarded felt liberating, and she let herself absorb that feeling by holding that pose for several long seconds. Beneath Jareth's childish antics, she supposed there was real sentiment to what he'd whispered to her. She only wished she had the confidence to feel like this when other eyes were on her. Well...eyes other than Jareth's.

She ran her hands through her hair as she stepped away from the door, going over to run the faucet for her bath. The tub was large, and deep, but it never took long to fill. Sometimes, it was almost frustrating how easy magic could make things.

She sat along the edge of the tub and watched as it filled. The white noise of it created a kind of vacuum for her thoughts. They drifted away from her quite easily.

Mariella had said their progress last night was astounding. And...in retrospect...she supposed it really was. Although, it wasn't their compromises that surprised her. No, it was all the things she hadn't told Marie. It was the way he'd opened up to her. They way he spoke his heart to her. Even after the passion faded...she'd felt so close. His pheromones allowed her to feel deeper parts of him, and the intimacy, the recognition that bound them together because of it...it was a kind of strength she never thought she'd have with him.

She felt as if she knew him —really knew him— to depths that her limited human mind could not properly formulate. This man who was so different from her, who was not human, who was ageless, who had more experiences and lifetimes behind him than could be fathomed. She remembered a time when the idea of understanding a person so complex was beyond daunting. The distance they'd come since then, in such a short span of time, was admittedly...terrifying.

Was this a product of their exchange? Had her sixth sense not totally faded? Or...was this normal? Was this how people were supposed to feel?

With the tub sufficiently full, she turned off the faucet and lowered herself inside. The warm water prickled at her skin, making goosebumps that quickly smoothed away as the heat permeated and calmed all the way to her bones.

She closed her eyes as she leaned back against the rim. After so many days of secrets and stress, this quietude right now was pure bliss. She used the time to think back over the more treasured parts of their night, a private moment she thought best to keep between themselves...

It was quiet then too. A crackle of fire. A shift of blanket. The faint scratch of his fingers running through her hair. —Those were the only sounds, the only things keeping her awake.

The fire was dying down. Its light had darkened, deepened, and shone in fractured red as it fanned over the library. Sarah stared absently at the shapes, blinking slowly as she enjoyed a cool draft sweeping across the floor.

The tips of his fingers grazed over the crest of her ear as he pulled back a few loose strands. His chest moved slowly beneath her cheek, the steady sound of his heart thumped just below her ear.

"...It's late," he said, turning his head towards her. "Do you want to go back?"

She shook her head, and nestled in closer as her hand moved down his stomach.

"No. I'm comfortable here."

A strange thing to say considering the only thing separating them from a solid stone floor was a downtrodden rug and some discarded throw pillows. Still, she had no desire to move. His body was cushion enough.

His hand, combing through her hair, trailed down over her naked shoulder, leaving a little shiver in his wake.

"How are you feeling?" he quietly asked. "...physically?"

"Alright...my appetite has been off," she said, giving in to turn her face just an inch so her lips touched his skin. "Sometimes...I feel nauseous….but I haven't been sick yet."

He was quiet, responding with a hum that was only knowable through the vibration she felt in his chest. Neither one continued the conversation, and that was fine. She knew both their thoughts were a little distant.

After a few minutes though, she shifted to hug him a tighter.

"...thank you," she mumbled, sounding demure as she paused to roll her lip over her teeth. "...for being honest with me. I'm...not trying to be nosy by saying this, but...I want you to know…" and she squeezed him again, her legs fidgeting against his. "It's...okay if you want to talk about her, or what happened...in any capacity." The limb she was out on made her nervous, and it showed in the way she touched him. Jareth felt his brow draw into a frown as he listened. "I'm scared too, so...I think it would help if...we could be scared together."

She did not say anything more after that, and didn't seem to expect any response from him either. Jareth stared silently up at the ceiling. Under normal circumstances, he would have deflected from the topic, and he knew that he presently could. It was a strange feeling for him then...when he instead felt the desire to respond.

Gods. She was truly cunning to strike while he was at such a disadvantage.

"You know…" he began to say, then trailed off in indecision. "I hadn't thought about Aurelia in a very long time before you came here." He felt her move under his arm, no doubt trying to angle her head back and stare at him. He cracked a grin as he kept his own focus strictly on the ceiling. "Although...I suppose it should be expected for a new queen to inspire talks of the old."

That sentence died in the silence, and a break followed. Jareth pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth. He could feel her attention gaping up at him.

"But...to be honest…I've tried not to think of her."

He had no idea why he was speaking, or why the words came so easily. He wanted to blame it on fallout from her pheromones, but...that wasn't it.

"Oh?" she responded meekly. Jareth's brow furrowed. He could hear in her voice how much she was holding back.

"Only...not for the reason you may think."

He gave in and peered down at her. They crossed gazes briefly, and she thought, with some sympathy, that the subtle curl at the corner of his mouth was sad rather than happy.

He looked away again, and she felt his hand lower to clasp her hip.

"She wanted me to move on —and I did. And it...wasn't all that hard either." He spoke with a neutral voice, but Sarah was frowning. She wanted to speak up and ask questions, but knew better than to say anything. She could just barely see the look in his eye from her perspective, and it was...focused.

"But...not thinking of her doesn't mean I've forgotten, or that it never meant anything," he went on. "I just know that dwelling over the past was the last thing she wanted. Being tethered by her ghost rather than freed by it...would have only made her sad."

He glanced down when he felt her fingers tense around his ribs, but she was no longer looking at him. She'd tucked her chin down, keeping silent as she breathed softly against his chest. Her restraint…or rather, the lack thereof surprised him. He thought she was merely being tactful but, no. He sensed contentment. Patience. He knew...he could also stay silent if he wanted.

"I...was there when she died," Jareth said with ambivalence. "I was...actually holding her."

"I know."

The sound of her voice was subdued, just enough to let him know it was there. That she was there.

And he felt her. He felt her by his side and in his heart. And he wondered...if he'd ever spoken these words to anyone, ever...and if he ever again would.

His hand on her hip reflected the tension in his jaw as both tightened.

"I wasn't supposed to be there," he said. "Men —sires, especially— are forbidden from the birthing chamber."

But that got her attention. Jareth stared downward, anticipating her gaze when she shifted onto her arm and looked up at him.

"Why?"

Her eyes were clear and directly on him now. Jareth's mouth twitched upward at one corner, but his eyes...his eyes conveyed something different.

"The smell," he said. Sarah stared in confusion. "The pheromones that women produce when in labor are...powerful. The scent of blood, and pain, and fear…death, even...it can have a very...dangerous affect."

He watched as her knitted brow turned down in a frown, but she did not voice her question. Her hand, once hugging his torso, was now placed directly over his heart. She was leaning up, leaning close to him. From his repose on the floor, he could see even the finest details of her irises, and her freckled nose, and the messy little hairs that stuck to her temples. Her mouth was chaffed and reddened from the kisses he'd given her. A glisten left over from their love-making brought a highlight to her forehead. She looked so beautiful and unkempt. So wild and young and —oh, how easy it would be to lose himself in that vision time and time again.

His hand trailed affectionately up her spine. If nothing else, the investment he saw in that stare would keep him on track.

"Being that woman's mate…" he started up again, having to glance away lest her portrait distract him further. "...or the sire of her child...having such a connection makes the effect of those smells stronger, and can incite a biological compulsion to protect both." And then she saw a tension form around his eyes. "Even...to the point of irrationality." He looked up at the ceiling, and a flash of some discomforting memory moved behind his eyes. Sarah wondered what it was when he mumbled, softly and to himself, "...I should not have gone in there."

Sarah's mouth pursed. She was fighting the urge to push him, but the shade that seemed to fall over his countenance made her fear he would soon close down. She looked downward impulsively, staring at her fingers as they lightly curled against his chest.

"What happened?" she asked.

She was surprised when his chest suddenly moved, even more surprised when she looked up and saw it was because he'd huffed and was now smiling.

"What happened? I did as I do."

And there it was. Deflection number one. Sarah's frown deepened as she stared at him.

"Jareth…"

"I thought...I would be fine," he said, seeming to fidget around the words. "I was...in such disbelief that I could hardly process anything, so I thought I could handle whatever came next. Surely, her dying was the worst of it. But…"

His voice trailed off and she caught his left eye wince. She tilted her head in silent encouragement.

"But?"

"It is customary...when a sovereign dies...to make a declaration of it," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I had...just said goodbye to her. I had just let go of my infant child's dead body. I was staring at them both...when suddenly the room started chanting behind me, the Queen is dead. Long live the Queen."

There was an incredulous and long exasperated chuckle haunting those words. His smile, in and of itself, was worrying. Sarah saw through the front like it wasn't there at all, and felt her heart practically breaking because of it.

"Ah...are you serious?" was all she could say.

"I...don't know what came over me then." He went on as if he hadn't heard her. "It's easy to blame it on the smell, and maybe it was that simple. It was just….I was just so angry." He spoke on a hard exhale and turned to look at her, both steeled despite the way their eye contact sparked. "I slaughtered them all," he said, and she blinked. "Every single one of them. The doctors and her maids —I set them ablaze, and watched them run in pitiful terror." He broke their locked gazes and turned back towards the ceiling, sounding suddenly exhausted when he muttered, "They were screaming for their lives…" His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. Sarah had no reaction at all. "As I think back, from the looks on their faces when I first refused to leave, they all knew it was coming. They knew and they waited. They waited for her to die and then waited to die themselves —because that is proper. I really...shouldn't have been there."

His one hand was still touching her back, but now the other had raised and was holding his forehead. His eyes were still closed. His brow was furrowing. Sarah bit the inside of her lip and she slowly lowered her head. She wasn't sure how to respond, how to feel, whether or not to lie in a way that would make him feel better.

"...I'm not sure what to say here," she ended up saying, choosing honesty despite its lack of poetry. "—I can't vouch for murder."

Jareth smirked as his hand fell from his forehead.

"I don't expect you to," he said.

"At the same time…" she started up again. Jareth looked down reflexively. "I have to disagree with you."

He wasn't expecting that. Wasn't expecting the strange resolve he saw in her eyes when she looked up and at him. That uncanny stare bore straight through him, and then she spoke again.

"There...with her...seeing her through it? That was exactly where you should have been."

The intensity with which she held his gaze had him blinking as if caught off guard —and in truth, he was. He was caught off guard by the effect it had on him. By the way he felt...comforted by her reassurance.

He seemed to miss his cue to respond, however, blinking back to the moment when her eyes lowered as she asked, "Did...she ask for Roldan?"

That question lulled the spark of passion she'd previously stirred in him, though truthfully it was something he appreciated.

"No," he said, inhaling through his nose as he looked away from her again. "I thought she would, but she didn't. She didn't want him to see her like that. She...preferred her place on the pedestal."

While he'd told her of Aurelia's insecurities before, his response just now still surprised her. Sarah made a faint noise of disappointment, her brow drawing together in contemplation.

"That's...a shame," she said. Silence was her answer. She figured it meant Jareth agreed. "It's probably arrogant of me to say this, but…" and she dared to peek up at him. "I'm sure she was grateful...that you were the one who barged in."

Jareth arched a brow, a bit of genuine amusement showing at the corner of his mouth.

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"No real reason. It's just...you said she was your closest friend, right? She was literally dying, and was still too afraid to face the one she loved, even to say goodbye. Too afraid, and yet...you were right there with her." She paused and took a sharp inhale. Jareth waited patiently for her to continue. "If men are forbidden, then I assume you could only stay because she allowed it. She wasn't too afraid to face you. So maybe...you were the same thing for her. Maybe you were her closest friend too." She stopped speaking abruptly and frowned, staring downward at nothing all the while —verbally musing, he presumed. After a second of thought, she went on. "I want to think that, anyway," she said, with a loss of passion. "It's just...too sad otherwise."

The arm Jareth kept draped over her waist curled back to brush her hair behind her ear. The gesture surprised her, so her eyes darted to him rather quickly. He was giving her a grin. A faint one, but a grin nonetheless.

"You've gotten very wise all of a sudden," he said. Sarah glanced away and scoffed.

"All of a sudden? Gee, thanks."

Despite her tone, she was smiling. And his hand, the backs of his knuckles grazing along her hairline to her cheek, felt warm. She rested her jaw on a fisted hand and looked downward. The light from the fire was even dimmer now. It gave his bare chest a honeyed hue.

"I'm just exhausted," she said, and lowered herself to lay against him once more. "Call it wisdom, but it's just...easier to think without so much going on." Her cheek smooshed against his pectoral as she spoke. Saying the word had given it effect, and now she really was feeling exhausted. The heat from the fire warmed the crown of her head. Jareth, wordlessly, began to trace gentle circles around her back. She closed her eyes and drifted off a bit. "I still….don't understand why you never told him, though. You just said dwelling would make her sad. Punishing Roldan seems...a poor way to honor her."

She was only half paying attention, even to her own words, so it surprised her when his hand stopped moving and and instead rested flatly on her back.

"I never said I was doing it to punish him."

Sarah scrunched her brow and turned.

"Hm? Didn't you?"

"You made that assumption yourself," he corrected. Sarah arched a skeptical brow. "I simply did not deny it."

She couldn't remember the exact conversation, but figured he was probably right. It was so very like him to use words against her.

"And the truth?" she asked.

"The truth...is that she does not want him to know."

Sarah blinked, wondering if there was any significance to the way he referred to her in the present tense, and if he even realized it. She kept this thought to herself, however, when he continued on.

"Her very last words to me…" and he smiled incredulously. "Her final request...was that I not tell him. She didn't want him to blame himself, to regret time miss-spent, or to be...disappointed in her. She used her last breath to plead for that. So...you see…"

"You are honoring her."

Jareth's eyes shifted. He'd been focusing on the fire, but the levelness of her tone compelled him to look. He caught her eye, so focused and crystal-clear.

"Yes," he replied, just as frankly.

Despite this, he watched her brow knit together and her lips form a pout.

"You seem unsatisfied," he said. Sarah scowled and looked away.

"I am. I think...he's been holding himself back because of this. It makes me sad. I want him...to be his whole self." She was glowering at the fire, but could feel that one eyebrow of his arching at her. She looked back over at him snidely. "We're friends now, remember? Don't give me that look."

Oh, she looked so serious —scolding him while her naked torso stretched languidly over his own. There was a delectable bit of shadow falling down the length of her spine, amplifying the curve as she laid over him at that wanton angle.

"Fine," he said, conceding with no will to fight at all. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps...I've grown too comfortable with how well her request and my bitterness align."

He did not register any significance to that statement. The sudden quirk of Sarah's brow, however, implied that she felt differently.

She folded her arms over his chest, and bent her head down to rest her temple on them as she turned to look at him.

"So you are bitter?" she asked. She felt him tense —if only briefly. Still, they were so close that it was a reaction she could not miss. It was enough for awkwardness to come creeping in, though Sarah refused to let it take root. She smiled faintly to herself and lowered her eyes from him as she spoke. "Like I said...it's okay. I'm not going to freak out if you say you miss her."

Her tone was coddling. At least, that's how he took it. And that grin on her face, it was as sad as the one she'd seen on him.

"I don't miss her," he said resolutely. Sarah peered up. "But I am bitter over how she died. It was avoidable and stupid."

A sternness easily mistaken for irritation perked up his voice. It made Sarah grin, naturally this time, and she closed her eyes as she mumbled a content, "Mhm."

Jareth observed her as well as he could, not trusting her vague choice of response.

"Is that all you have to say?" he asked her. "I'm surprised."

Sarah yawned and shifted in her spot, rolling onto her side and gradually falling back into place under his arm.

"There's more…" she murmured, nestling close against him while his arm habitually braced around her. "I'm just...tired."

Realizing she was serious, Jareth huffed and grinned down at the top of her head. Her breathing was shallow, her posture totally lax. He cherished that feeling, and let go of all else as he reached over with his other hand and brushed his thumb down the side of her face.

"Would you like to sleep?" he asked. She nodded.

His thumb traced her chin before pulling away, before reaching over and drawing the blanket up and over them, before turning towards her and holding her to his chest, and clutching the back of her head, and twining his ankle with hers to better admire the feel, and the scent, and the quiet. Her hand, wedged between them, pressed to his chest. And her lips, soft and raw, placed an almost-kiss to his heart. She fell asleep almost immediately. He, however, was far too greedy to let such a precious thing go.

---

Sarah held onto her knees and leaned against the side of the tub, staring vacantly through half-lidded eyes as the memory played out. It was strange, the way she could still feel his arms around her. The way they'd felt so strong because of his gentleness. She liked when he touched her like that, when he made the rest of the world fade away without any effort at all.

She blinked and came back to reality gradually. She'd only been daydreaming for a few minutes, but knowing Marie was in the other room waiting for her prompted her to get a move on.

She scrubbed herself well —with lots of fragrant soaps and shampoos— with anything really, she'd even use sandpaper if she must, to get rid of that damn faerie musk. Jareth was Jareth, and Roldan had been so well composed that she hadn't realized just how strong it must be. Christ, Mariella had looked like she was about to vomit.

Only when she was feeling fresher than a daisy did she exit the washroom. She wore one of her robes, and came out patting her wet hair with a towel.

Mariella was well at work putting together an outfit for her on the bed. She paused at the sound of the door, and looked up with a smile.

"I've laid out some clothing for you," she said, and then scowled a little. "Although...I suppose it is still quite early for you. How are you feeling? Would you rather go back to sleep?"

Sarah draped her towel over her shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed.

"No...No. I'm already up, so I might as well stay that way."

Mariella's smile widened happily.

"Oh good. I'll order some breakfast then. We'll have more time to prepare this way too."

She turned around to close Sarah's armoire. Sarah furrowed her brow as she watched her.

"Prepare?" Sarah repeated. Mariella glanced back.

"Hm? Have you forgotten?" she asked, walking away from the armoire and towards the dining table to ring the little bell. "Amara is scheduled to arrive later today."

"Oh shit," Sarah said on impulse, promptly standing to her feet. "I can't believe it's already Friday. Yes, I totally forgot. Oh my God—"

"Yes, I know," Mariella interjected, taking the liberty to sit at the table while Sarah gathered up her clothes. "Another reason I'm pleased you were able to resolve things with His Majesty. Such circumstances would have made for quite the awkward welcome."

Sarah paused on her heel as her eyes widened.

"Yeah, no kidding…" she said, then scuttled back to the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

Breakfast was waiting by the time Sarah exited a second time, hair still damp (but now combed) as she straightened out the bodice of her dress. Mariella had already prepared a plate for her —in just the way she liked it.

Sarah sat down to the table and dug right in.

"So, how do I smell?" she asked. Mariella leaned over the table and inhaled sharply.

"Pleasant. A wide variety of flowers, mostly."

"Great."

"Oh, and pregnant too."

Sarah twitched.

"Really? You can smell it now?"

Mariella leaned back in her seat.

"Yes. It's subtle, but definitely recognizable now. Everything else is gone though."

Sarah pursed her lips and squirmed.

"...Jareth did say it would be harder to reign it in now that I've finally expressed it. Mph. I don't know how I feel about that."

Mariella tilted her head.

"Why not? Surely it's easier for you?"

"It is...I just don't like knowing people can smell that about me."

"Ah. Yes. More Aboveground modesty. If it helps at all, women are encouraged to take pride in such a smell. I don't think it's anything you should feel self conscious of."

Sarah twirled her fork around in her eggs while Marie spoke, hardly convinced.

"Yeah...I guess."

A few minutes passed in silence after that. Sarah was bordering on broody when Marie finally mustered the confidence to ask her next question.

"On another note...may I ask...what is to be done about Yore?" Sarah paused and lowered her fork from her mouth. "I mean, I'm glad you weren't punished, of course, but…"

"Actually...we never talked about that," Sarah responded, her brow scrunching with the realization. "—about what's going to happen, I mean. I guess we had...more pressing matters."

"No, of course. I agree. I was just curious."

Mariella spoke plainly, but a thread of tension was strung behind it. Sarah glanced down at her plate. As mannerly as Mariella was, it was more than obvious how anxious this all made her.

"We yelled at each other about what happened, but never got to how it'll be fixed. I guess...we still need to discuss it." And then she rolled her eyes. "Based on Jareth's attitude this morning though, I'm hoping it'll be fine."

Yes, despite how mannerly Jareth could also be, he wasn't a person who did well to conceal anger or the things that bothered him —at least in her eyes. He was genuinely chipper this morning, so...that had to count for something.

"Well, that's good," Mariella said, and took a sip of tea. "I will pray for the best."

Breakfast passed pleasantly after that, both tactfully segueing into trivial conversation. They were just about finished eating when Sarah asked,

"Do you know if the goblins finished with Amara's room?"

Mariella nodded as she patted her mouth with a napkin.

"Yes. I was restless, so I helped them along last night."

Sarah took a sip of juice.

"Oh. What about the other thing?"

"That, I am not sure of," Mariella replied, her inflection turning high as she pondered the answer. "We may go and have a look after breakfast, but I wouldn't be concerned. I'm sure the goblins have pulled through. They wouldn't want to disappoint their queen." She tacked on a wink at the end that made Sarah huff. Sarah wanted to reply with something witty, but knew Mariella was right. Those little buggers would move hill and dale before risking letting her down. She had no idea what she'd done to deserve it, but they adored her. She only hoped, going forward, she could be a queen who was actually worthy of it.

---

It was well into the afternoon when the courier arrived —a Sulanan footman who'd rode ahead to appraise the Crown of the Lordess's arrival. Sarah was excited by the news, as the goblins really had pulled through with the little surprise she'd thought to give her as a welcome present. She'd come up with the idea on their journey back, feeling like she owed her something after the wreck that music number that put her through. She'd mentioned it to Jareth, who signed off on it without care (while reminding her she did not need his permission), but she was worried there wouldn't be enough time to get it ready.

She rewarded her goblin crew with a payment of their choice. She thought they might want something practical like food, or money, or services rendered. But, no. No, a bundle of bottle corks (an armful for each), and thimbles of various sizes were the general consensus. And, gosh, were those creatures down right honored when she responded with a quizzical, "okay?". A part of her, a large part of her, wondered what in the hell they intended to do with them, but knew better to ask. She felt like she was taking advantage of them, but could only shake her head in the end. Hey, at least they were happy?

Three o'clock was the appointed time. T'was now two-fifty-three as Sarah and Mariella began their trek to the main gates.

The two of them were marveling at all the changes that had come over the lower levels in recent days. Once abandoned and left absolutely disgusting by the whim of rambunctious goblins, Sarah had made those first fifteen or so floors the spearhead of her castle-wide remodeling effort. As it currently was, the lower half of the castle was nowhere near as fancy as the fae occupied upper half, but...at least it was clean.

Their discussion was interrupted when Roldan intercepted their path as he rounded the next corner.

"Oh! Look! It's Master Roldan. What are you doing here so close to the gates?"

Mariella spoke chipperly and without an ounce of awareness. Roldan halted on a dime, looking skittish and perturbed as he stared, searingly, at Sarah. Sarah, of course, caught this reaction immediately and reflected it tenfold.

"Um...I had a meeting," he said, speaking to Marie while holding that unnerving deadlock on Sarah. His speech pattern was...off. Mariella blinked at him, confused, then pushed through it as she looked back at Sarah. Oh... Right.

They just gaped at each other for a second, Sarah's face florid with embarrassment until she was able to break free of it and glare away.

"Hey again…" was the best thing she could muster.

Roldan's jaw clenched and he swallowed, blinking arduously like he just couldn't quite shift into gear. Curious about why he wasn't responding to her, Sarah peered up and eyed him.

"So, about this morning...I'm uh...sorry about that."

She stared at him intently while speaking, her own brow furrowing when he just kept standing there. He looked agitated, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it had to do with something else. She was getting weirded out now. And Marie...Marie was snickering?

"I...have to apologize," Roldan said, finally breaking through his petrifaction, and deftly bowed to her. Sarah took half a step back, caught off guard, and glanced at Mariella for a clue. He hadn't acted that way towards her since the wedding—

"W-why are you apologizing?" she asked.

Roldan was scowling at the floor. He took another moment to compose himself, feeling like a monumental ass, and then straightened. He looked her in the eye again, seemingly angry, but...no. No, it was something else…

---

Earlier that day:

"What?" Roldan asked, brow tightening and eyes widening in utter aghast!

Jareth glanced back over his shoulder.

"What do you mean, what? Are you going deaf?"

Roldan shook his head frantically.

"More like insane. Surely I misheard you just now."

Jareth, with a quick quirk of a brow, looked rather smug as he fiddled with the collar of his shirt.

"Doubtful," he muttered.

Despite Jareth's complete nonchalance, Roldan had to physically stop and process.

"You're telling me Sarah is pregnant? Are you serious?" he asked, clearly in disbelief. Jareth peered over shrewdly. "That's impossible—"

"Impossible?" Jareth cut him off, pausing his stride towards the door to angle back towards Roldan with a hand on his hip. "Have you forgotten how it works? I'll draw a picture for you, if you'd like." He smiled suggestively. Roldan's response was a Tch sound. Jareth, starting to enjoy all that disgruntled fluster of his, turned back even more and gave him a canny eye. "No, no. I'm sure you have plenty of those already. What I think you meant to say is that it's improbable."

Jareth was mocking him —as usual. Roldan ignored it and shook his head again.

"I don't believe it. She's been here four months, and she's really—"

"If you're that shocked, you're welcome to open your nose," Jareth said. Roldan shut up and shifted his eyes to Jareth's, who impassively shrugged and then gestured around the room. "It's right there," he added, then turned back around and started walking.

Roldan caught up to him quickly.

"Jareth, that's unheard of."

"I know," Jareth responded, a bit of thrill laced into the words as he said them. "It's a little exciting, isn't it? Seems we truly are made for one another."

"Oh please…"

Roldan rolled his eyes as he spoke, paying more attention to closing the door behind them than Jareth. He was left unsuspecting then when he took a step forward and realized Jareth had stopped dead. Roldan looked over and caught his eye, and regarded an edge about him that, undoubtedly, had been lurking there all along.

"By all means," Jareth began, conveying a considerable shift in his mood. "—give me your two cents."

Roldan paused. He was skirting close to an insult, and he supposed he appreciated this effort to warn him of it. He reined himself in and tried to think of a way to change directions. Jareth watched him struggle for that brief moment, then arrogantly huffed.

"No? Nothing?" Jareth asked with derision. "Can I assume you're happy for me then?"

Roldan, looking as serious as ever, stared at Jareth unblinking. There were many things he could have said, but knew enough to keep them buried deep. Instead, he clenched his jaw and forcibly replied,

"...of course I am."

Jareth grinned like anything about that sentence had been believable.

"Good," he responded, his voice turning perky again. "Make sure you're happy for her too."

Roldan kept quiet now, less eager to chase after Jareth to wherever the hell he was going. He was...unsettled by this news, but hadn't stopped to properly figure out why. Jareth, unable to care any less about Roldan's feelings, turned on his heel to give him one last remark.

"I'm off now," he said flatly. "See to her for me while I'm gone. Oh, and...best prepare yourself." and he took a big, deep, shameless inhale that ended with an honest shiver. "Mm. I can smell her even out here. I forgot how potent it can be."

His eyes slanted to Roldan at the end, locking on his gaze in a way that cut straight through his quiet frown and well-practiced stoicism. Whatever Jareth found buried there made him grin, made him grin more anyway, before he shook his head and, with a happy pep in his step, left.

Roldan stood alone after that, confused and perturbed, and, more than anything, down right terrified to even breathe. Though Jareth was clearly messing with him just now, he did not for one second doubt that girl's ability to flood the entire castle with her rabid, incoherent scents. Oh gods, it was going to be like the first time they'd met all over again, wasn't it? No. No, it was going to be monumentally worse. At least back then, those were scents he could disregard without a thought —they were trite and unconscious and, for all intents and purposes, gentle. But this? For someone who felt and smelled as strongly as her to be with child? Jareth would surely writhe and croon until he was left utterly useless, but Roldan was legitimately afraid for the havoc she would wreak on any who crossed her (and of course, he was one such person). Prepare himself? Please. It was impossible to prepare for anything when dealing with her.

---

That edict replayed itself through Roldan's mind as he stared down at Sarah. She looked panicked. Typically unaware of everything. But, despite his grievances —and the minor headache he was already getting from trying to control his breathing— he did his best to humor Jareth and power through.

"I was trying to avoid that disgusting cloud the two of you made, so I didn't realize…" he replied, but his voice trailed off. Being so close to her...it didn't even matter if he held his breath. He could feel her scent wafting over him. Could feel its creeping presence hovering above him —like he was a puppet about to be taken by the strings.

The way he winced and looked away was somehow telling, and it was in that moment that Sarah realized that he wasn't frustrated with her. He was struggling with her. Struggling because...he could smell her. She watched as he compulsively bowed his head again as the muscle in his cheek flexed tightly.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty," he said through gritted teeth.

Sarah wasn't sure what face to make.

Oh.

Oh geez.

"Um...thank you," she awkwardly replied, wondering if she should just offer him her hand to kiss at this point. Roldan cleared his throat and lifted his head, his stare still hard and livid as he regarded her.

Mariella, having so much fun watching Roldan suffer, would tell Sarah alllll about it later. For now, however, best to stay on track.

"So, you had a meeting? May we ask with whom?"

Roldan blinked and looked away from Sarah reluctantly, seeming to be wary of her. Sarah was...confused.

"I...met with the chairman of the Orpian Trade Committee," he said.

"Ah. Of course. And here I thought you might be coming to join us in welcoming Lady Amara."

If Roldan found Sarah's *ness* distracting, he did no longer. His attention focused entirely on Marie, and a certain clarity returned to his eyes as his face formed a tight scowl.

"What?" he asked pointedly.

Mariella, perfectly candid, turned and gestured down the hall.

"Were you unaware? A messenger arrived earlier foretelling her arrival. Assuming all is well, she should be here any minute now."

Roldan turned and followed Marie's line of sight, his mouth opening dumbly as if he'd had absolutely no idea where he was. The entrance to the castle was at the end of the hall around the next corner. Dammit. As if Sarah hadn't disarmed him enough already.

He woke up that morning ignoring the fact. He'd spent the entire day thinking of anything else. There was no significance to it. It meant nothing. So what if he was notified the moment that courier arrived? His meeting was unavoidable. He had to pass by the gates….

…

Godsdammit.

"Um, doesn't Jareth usually meet with the chairman?"

Roldan blinked out of his panic and looked over at Sarah. She had a curious look about her, her head tilted slightly.

"Yes. Unfortunately for me, however, Jareth is away from the castle today."

Sarah blinked. Huh?

"He is?" she asked.

Starting to adjust to the smell (oh, how great was the power of will?), Roldan was able to settle and face her more casually. Mariella, meanwhile, frowned to herself. Oh poo, she thought. What a well disciplined man. That wasn't nearly as amusing as she thought it'd be.

"Yes? Did he...not tell you?"

Sarah glanced around like the walls might clue her in, then shook her head at him.

"No. I haven't seen him since I ran out this morning. Where is he?"

Roldan paused. Sarah took note of it. He glanced away from her before replying.

"Well now, this is a bit awkward. He went Aboveground."

Sarah drew back with a frown.

"What? Why?"

"No idea," Roldan replied with a shrug. "I can only assume it has something to do with you, so I figured you knew."

Sarah shook her head as her frown grew into a scowl.

"No. He didn't say anything to me…"

Her voice trailed off as she mused. This news really caught her off guard, and not in a good way. What the hell was he doing? Why didn't he tell her? Why did he not even bother to say goodbye? And, most poignantly, what the hell was she supposed to do with the knowledge that he could travel to and from her home at will, while she couldn't go back at all?

This felt something close to a slap in the face. She supposed all she could do about it, however, was wait until he returned…

"Did he say when he's coming back?" she asked. Roldan arched a brow.

"No. He told me to handle his appointments for the next several days, however, so it's likely he'll be gone til then."

And now she was baffled.

"What? No. No, he wouldn't just vanish for days at a time without telling me."

She looked over at Marie, who only gave her a sympathetic frown. Sarah was starting to get a little irritated now.

"You're probably right," Roldan said. Sarah looked back over at him. "You have him on the tightest leash I've ever seen. Whatever he's up to, I doubt it's anything you need fret about."

He spoke plainly but, if Sarah didn't know better, she'd have said he was trying to reassure her. That was...somewhat new. And, because of the novelty, it actually worked. Her anxiety eased down a notch. She supposed he was right. Given the note they'd parted on, she was sure he had a good explanation.

"Yes. Master Roldan is right. His Majesty would never leave you for too long, and I'm sure it will all make sense when you see him." Mariella smiled and placed a hand on Sarah's shoulder. Sarah looked over and forced herself to grin back.

"Right."

Wanting to change the subject to something less ominous, Mariella then turned her attention to Roldan.

"I say, it's about that time. Master Roldan, since you're here, would you like to join us at the gates?"

Roldan's eyes darted swiftly away.

"No," he said sternly. Sarah looked over at him sharply. "I...have another appointment to get to—" he quickly amended, looking all kinds of fidgety in a way that did not match a man of his stature. Sarah eyed him curiously, wondering what the hell that was all about, when suddenly a loud and proud exclamation shouted at them from the end of the hall.

"Queen Sarah?! Lady Marie?! MY GODS, have you really come to greet me!?"

All three of them turned on reflex to the sight of a red-headed cupcake dragging along suitcases half her size in each hand with an entourage of equally overburdened goblins following behind her at the end of the hall and heading their way. In that brief second, Sarah counted the number of boxes and trunks and duffels oh my! that those poor critters lugged, and wondered (with an honest twinge of intimidation) if Amara had actually brought the whole of Sulu with her.

Amara's smile when seeing them was as wide as it could ever be, and she actually dropped the bags she'd been carrying in the middle of the hall as she then ran (yes, ran) the rest of the way to meet them.

Sarah took half a step back and braced as that tiny bulldozer of a girl took a skip into the air and then threw her arms tightly around both she and Marie.

"Oh my goodness, what a surprise! I am so excited to see you!"

Amara, so freaking happy, squeezed them tightly like they hadn't seen each other in ages. As Sarah struggled to breathe, she remarked on the scent of strawberries wafting from Amara's hair. Her wild curls tickled her nose, too, and it was an odd bit of familiarity that had Sarah smiling. Happy to see her as well, Sarah laughed as she and Marie hugged Amara back.

"I'm glad. We're excited to see you too. We were actually just about to go wait for you at the gates."

"Wait, really? You, Her Majesty, waiting on me at the castle gates? Oh, I'm humbled. What an honor!"

Amara squealed, bouncing on her toes with pure, unbridled giddiness. Sarah was about to respond. She even opened her mouth to do so, and then Amara twitched, froze, did both simultaneously before abruptly pulling away. She let go of Mariella and clutched Sarah by the shoulders —then stared at her fiercely, dead in the eye.

"Your Majesty…" and then her wide eyes roamed down and up. "You're pregnant?!"

She sounded bemused...or enthused...and maybe even a little bit agitated.

Sarah opened her mouth dumbly.

"Ah...yes?"

"Well, when the heck did that happen?!" There was a passionate rise in Amara's voice, alarmed but also excited, and she took a step back to give Sarah a thorough once over. "I can't believe it. I saw you only five days ago, and you most certainly did not smell like this—"

"Oh. Well. About that….we haven't gone public with the news yet, so...I kept it concealed…"

Amara's eyes sprang back to Sarah's, a comical sense of determination in them.

"Right. Of course. Of course," she said, accepting Sarah's explanation immediately and wholeheartedly. Sarah exhaled in relief. And then...oh gosh, and then Amara's eyes widened all over again. "Oh where are my manners. Queen Sarah, congratulations! This is so great!" she cheered, taking both of Sarah's hands in hers and squeezing. Sarah smiled despite herself, feeling bashful rather than anxious. That was a nice change.

Amara turned to Mariella next, releasing Sarah's hands to latch onto her instead.

"Oh, Lady Marie. Isn't that wonderful? We get to be maids to Her Majesty during her first pregnancy! What an honor!"

Mariella smiled and nodded, moving in the same rhythm as Amara's bouncing self. The energy of the room escalated so quickly that everyone had forgotten dour old Roldan was even there. As he stood in the back, quietly, he realized far too fucking late that he should have just ran away mid-squeal—

"Oh! Roldan! I didn't see you there. Hello!"

Roldan panicked at the sound of his name, and felt his entire body freeze. Amara had leaned around Marie and was now staring straight at him. Fuck.

He did not respond, but she hardly gave him the chance to anyway. In the same breath, she skipped around Marie and took two large steps towards him. Seeing the manner of her greeting towards Mariella and Sarah, Roldan braced in anticipation of her thin little arms wrapping tightly around him. This had him feeling confused and bereft —or rather, confused over being bereft— when she did not.

Her energized hop came to a halt directly before him, and she clasped her hands out in front of herself politely. She teetered on her heels, and looked up at him.

"Hehe. Sweet surprises all around. Have you come to greet me too?" she asked.

Roldan...was an absolute idiot. He just stood there, worrying more over the six inches of space that hummed between them than anything else, ever. She was smiling up at him, her head having to tilt far back given her height. Her hair, down in loose curls, was larger and more unkempt from the change in humidity. And her gown, a rather intricate piece of tailoring, was rumpled from her travels. He gulped as his eyes traveled down her, making little notes of each crimped curl of lace, lopsided bow, uneven string of beads, wrinkled seam, and everything else not quite proper about her that had absolutely nothing to do with the reason why his face was suddenly hot.

She'd just caught him off guard, is all. He was still compromised by Sarah's smell. Yes. That was it. The way her giggle echoed through his mind every time he thought of her was—

No. No, he had not been thinking of her.

His expression tensed as he geared up to respond. He was about to tell her, no, he did not. It was mere coincidence that they crossed paths. That he had no idea this was the day, let alone the exact time, of her arrival. That he had far better things to do, or worry about, or wait on. That it was a simple peculiarity that had kept him awake all night and woke him anxiously that morning—

But her smile was so sweet. And she just...she looked so happy.

Yes, a peculiarity indeed.

He opened his mouth to speak but happened to catch Sarah giving him a death glare from over Amara's shoulder. Apparently, she knew what he'd been planning to say and was not in favor of it. Roldan backtracked, then politely smiled and bowed his head.

"Yes, of course. It isn't often that we take on new residents. I welcome you to the capital."

With a hand to his heart for the finishing touch, he peered up to catch Sarah's verdict. Her glare had lessened, but she was still eyeing him. Alas, he tried.

Thankfully, Amara was downright touched by the display.

"Aw. How kind of you. That makes me so happy."

Indeed, happy was how she sounded. It put a calming note in her voice, and compelled him to peer up at her from his bow. Despite how low he carried himself, he was still near eye level with her. The link that formed between their too-close gazes caught him off guard. Made him tense. Made him bite back a rock in his throat as he casually straightened.

"I'm glad to have flattered you, Lordess," he said, low and smooth.

Amara frowned and gripped her clasped hands.

"Oh. Are you back to calling me Lordess already?" she asked. Roldan, having managed a cool glance away, felt his eyes shift back to her. The sight of her pout alarmed him. He could actually feel the jolt of it tensing his ears. Amara, gazing up brazenly, tilted her head ever so demure as she arched a brow and asked, "Surely, I thought we were more familiar with each other than that?"

Roldan blushed. Gods, did he really? It was asinine, but yes, he did. It was instinctive. He could feel the heat of it turning him stiff. Conspicuously, his eyes darted to Sarah and Marie, but he didn't know why. It was Sarah who caught his gaze, giving him a quietly arched brow in response. Roldan's jaw locked so tightly he was sure a vein was sticking out of his neck, then forced himself to smile casually and trudge on.

"No. Forgive me, I…" he started to say. Then, under the scrutiny of both Sarah and Marie, he realized he might be stammering, and did everything he could to come off his usual, dispassionate self. "I meant no offense. It's merely habit. I'll call you whatever you wish."

Sarah's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Roldan was putting on his airs, but, oddly, was not putting them on very well. She looked from him, to Amara, and back again, trying to figure out what exactly she was missing.

Despite Roldan's obvious fluster, Amara was the epitome of glee. She smiled unabashedly as she spoke to him, her lips curling up coyly at one end.

"Oh, is that so?" she asked, with a mysterious kind of suggestion that had Roldan looking honestly worried. For better or worse, however, such discomfort went well and above Amara's head. She leaned in and angled her head towards him teasingly. "Be careful with the promises you make to women, Roldan. They may actually take you up on them."

Sarah snickered. She couldn't help it. It was lodged in the back of her throat and tactfully stifled behind a hand pressed to her mouth, but a snicker it was all the same. Roldan, as tense as ever, peered at her reflexively because of it. The man looked positively nerve-wracked. Poor guy, she thought. What torture it must be to flirt. Still, Sarah knew him well enough to see he was breaching the threshold of livid, and decided it was best to save him.

"So, how was your trip, Amara? Things went smoothly, I hope?" she asked, veering the conversation in the complete opposite direction, practically literally, by the way Amara turned around on a dime to face her.

"Oh indeed. It was such fun being on my own. Well, I wasn't on my own, per say. I had several guardsmen. I suppose I meant being away from home without my family. We actually camped in a field one night. Can you believe it? Only one of our kirins got nabbed!"

Sarah blinked.

"What?" she asked, too alarmed to be fazed by the rambling. She scowled a little —a stark contrast to Amara's steadfast (and now confusing) grin. "Something took one of those things?"

One of those things? One of those monstrous, dragon-like things? Sarah had learned on her travels back that the creature that had been pulling the Eines's carriage through town that day was called a kirin. They were apparently common in the area and served as substitutes for other such beasts of burden (like the rarer, much coveted horse). As Sarah recalled the size and build of that thing, she found herself feeling legitimate fear towards whatever else prowled the tall grass of the Barrens.

Amara, ne'er to be shaken, replied with her usual candor.

"Oh yes. From the blood we found the next morning, I assume it ate it too. Curious though, no one heard a single thing!"

And now Sarah was speechless. Disturbed, maybe. Her open mouth formed a little grimace as her brain finished processing.

"Oh my God. That's terrifying," she said, sharing a sympathetic glance with Marie. Amara peered upwards, tapping a finger to her mouth as she mused.

"Is it? I suppose it would have been had that mystery creature come after one of us. Ooh, yes. That would have been alarming. Haha! But, honestly, I probably would have slept right through it anyway!" she said with a giggle. "I guess I'll count myself lucky."

Sarah, with a look of confoundment, could only shake her head.

"Yeah. Definitely do that," she said, then awkwardly scratched the back of her head. "Geez. I'm glad you're alright."

Amara bowed her head.

"Thank you, Queen Sarah. I'm honored to have your concern." And then she straightened. "Alas, I'm here now safe and sound!"

She perked up on her toes and looked between the three of them with a persnickety little bounce. At some point, she'd come to stand in the middle of their triangle. Hm. How quaint.

"So...may I ask what is next?" she asked Sarah. "I was not expecting to meet with you here. Am I to present myself to His Majesty now, or…?"

Sarah blinked and darted her eyes away.

"Oh. Um...is that...customary?"

Amara rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"Well, I don't know. I've never been a queen's maid before. I assumed I'd be shown to a room and would later be summoned to the throne room for audience with Your Majesties at your convenience."

Sarah looked over to Roldan for help. He seemed to have settled down some, crossing his arms in his usual manner as he'd watched the two of them talk. His right eyebrow cocked when he replied.

"That is court procedure, yes," he said. Amara turned around to face him too. "Sarah, however, is hardly ever aware and much less cares for any of it."

Amara's brow turned down, a look of skepticism near to be formed, but Sarah broke it just in time.

"Yeah...I wanted to come get you myself," she said, distracting Amara. "And I guess Jareth's isn't even here right now anyway, so...no idea when you'll see him. Sorry if I made things awkward for you."

Amara, taking every little unexpected change in perfect stride, slapped that pretty smile right back on her face.

"Oh never! I'm touched that you would go out of your way for me. Truly. To be frank, I'm just feeling nervous. This is my first time in such a prominent court hall. I have no idea how to properly conduct myself….I mean, well, I do. But I also know you're not fond of court etiquette, so I want to do my best to make you comfortable as well," she prattled. Sarah grinned. "I hope you don't find me an inconvenience. I want to serve you well, Queen Sarah. If I ever inadvertently do something to offend—"

"Amara," Sarah cut her off, sparing a sly glance over to Marie. "You're doing fine. Jareth might care more about all that formal stuff, but I want you to just be yourself. Okay?"

Relief was made palpable by the half inch of height Amara lost when she exhaled and her shoulders sagged. She was fiddling with her fingers out in front of her too, but stopped by the time she mustered a confident smile.

"Okay," she said with a sharp nod. Sarah's expression warmed. It was odd to think this sweet girl was, in actuality, so much older than her.

"Great. Because I figured we could go back to your room to help you settle in, and then maybe show you around? I kind of have a surprise for you," Sarah said, laughing softly to herself when Amara's large eyes widened in their sockets.

"What? Really?!" she asked, hopping forward and clasping Sarah's hand. "You are so kind, Queen Sarah. How unexpected —I mean, not that such generosity is unexpected of you— but— oh, a surprise? I'm excited!"

She bounced on her toes with enough gusto for the movement to send a wave through her hair. And her shoes, something heavier and more fine than the velvet slippers Sarah and Marie often preferred, clicked against the stone floor.

It was an unfamiliar sound —but Sarah liked it.

"Just Sarah is fine."

She spoke softly, admiring Amara's mirth whilst absorbing some of it. Amara stopped on her toes and nodded.

"Yes, yes. Just Sarah. I will remember," she said. Then, while still holding Sarah's hands, turned back to address Roldan from over her shoulder "Will you be joining us too, Roldan?"

Roldan snorted.

"Absolutely not."

His reply was quick —a bit too decisive. Amara frowned, her energy fading as she lowered to stand flat-footed.

"Oh," she said, and it was almost sad.

Courtly Mariella, having the most canny out of all of them, chose now to speak up and guide them along.

"Don't take it personally," she said. Amara looked over at her. "Master Roldan simply has more meetings to get to, right?" she asked, smiling softly first to Amara, and then over at Roldan. The nymph held eye contact with him for the briefest, yet weirdly intense moment. Roldan recoiled, internally if nothing else, and glanced away when he replied an ambivalent,

"Ah...yes…"

Amara blinked, writing off her disappointment in favor of humility.

"Oh, of course. How silly of me," she said, turning to face Roldan with a suddenly calm demeanor. "Your time is much too important to spend dallying away with me." She smiled, but it was weaker this time. Roldan found himself bothered by it. Once again, his boorish manner had offended her— "Thank you for sparing a moment to come and meet me, though," she carried on a bit more naturally. "I was looking forward to seeing you again."

She stared him straight in the eye, her faint smile twitching as she gave a little shrug. That was hardly a gesture fit for a Lady of her station, but...it somehow suited her. He allowed himself to calm in that fleeting interlude. His gaze traveled down her face, remembering the pattern of freckles his eyes had followed while they danced in Sulana.

The color of her lips was a natural, berry pink —he thought over that absently, before catching the invasive eye Sarah was giving him, and snapped back to attention.

He cleared his throat and looked anywhere but at any of them, then respectfully bowed his head.

"Likewise," he replied with a neutral tone. Then, while (anxiously) brushing down the breast of his coat while he straightened, he muttered a stern, "If you'll excuse me," and left.

Sarah pursed her lips while she watched him leave. Mariella arched a brow. Amara, however, giggled.

"I'll be seeing you!" she called out with a flittering wave. If he at all flinched, it was beyond the three of them. And good thing too; for, with the way his teeth were so tightly clenched, he wasn't sure he could physically stand to be ridiculed any further.

He took the first corner he came across, getting out of their sight and heading straight to that imaginary meeting that had supposedly been worth the frown he put on her face.

He felt anxious as he walked, and ran a hand down his face before pinching the bridge of his nose.

Gods. He was so fucking stupid.

Amara covered her grin with her hand as she watched Roldan exit from view. Ruminations of some variety rendered her stare amused but distant, a look that she turned over to Sarah as she asked, with a snicker, "He's a little odd, isn't he?"

---

Jareth inhaled deeply and propped his boots up on the desk, glancing around while leaning far back in a chair. The metal thing creaked, an obnoxious sound —a sign of something cheap and fabricated. Still, he supposed it was comfortable. It even swiveled. He turned to the side as he inspected the room.

There were plaques on the left wall, framed certificates and such which, he supposed, were meant to be impressive. Hm. The name Harvard sounded familiar…

A bookshelf overtook the entire right wall, filled to the brim and wafting with the stagnant aroma of brittle parchment and dust. In front of him, on the desk, were several framed pictures of happy summer days. Friends stood side by side with dead fish in their hands, while another captured a large group —a twilight scene where each donned straw-woven hats and false flower wreaths of various, garish colors. There was also a table to the side of him. Perched on it was, what he recognized as, a coffee maker.

To the skating eye, it all looked quite authentic. If it weren't for the name printed on all those papers and forms and certificates littering about, he may have questioned if he was in the right place.

There was a door left open directly across from him. It revealed a sterile hallway, the comings and goings of voices, and indiscriminate shuffling sounds.

As he lounged there, dressed in his Underground best while caught between a ponytail palm and some spare cotton swabs, a part of him thought it might be better to disguise himself a bit more. But...no. Where was the thrill in that?

He sat there in quiet observation for about five minutes —he knew from the ticking of the tasteless, white-faced clock with its narrow red hands hanging just above the doorway. Gods. Was this really the current aesthetic? Brittle brown carpet and slick-painted, manila walls?

A door to a room close by opened and closed, and the voice that followed it caught his attention. It was a woman's voice, made both echoed and muffled in the tunnel of the hall.

"Oh. Doctor Andrews, there you are—"

Jareth's brow quirked. Well. It was about time.

"Did you need something?" a man's voice replied.

"Your next appointment had to reschedule. You've got some free time for the next half hour."

"Oh. Great. Thanks."

The fading sound of footsteps implied that one of those people was now moving farther away. After a moment, a second set of footsteps could be heard. These, however, were coming closer.

Jareth rested his jaw atop his knuckles as he reclined, staring absently at the doorway until it was expectedly filled.

A man entered the room, the one he'd heard talking. His head was lowered, however, paying no attention whilst he flipped through the yellow, blue-lined pages of some chart.

He took a few steps, slowed as he read, then paused when he sensed he was not alone.

The man looked up, straight at Jareth, and all casualty fled in a flash.

Jareth grinned at the way he actually flinched, eyes widening fretfully just before he turned around and, with quick darted looks, made sure no one was near before closing the door promptly shut.

The man turned back around with a heavy sigh, panic fleeting as a slump formed in his shoulders.

"Your Majesty," he said, sounding close to winded as he tossed the papers he held onto a nearby chair, and then ran a frazzled hand through his hair. "Forgive me, I...I wasn't expecting you."

He sounded nervous. Or, perhaps, merely caught off guard. He approached the king sitting at his desk warily, his head somewhat lowered in deference.

"No, I suppose not. Is this a bad time?"

Jareth spoke cheekily, his grin ever-fixed as he re-crossed his ankles. The man, with his hand still in his hair, slowly lowered it to his side.

"No. Of course not. W-what may I do for you? Correct me if I'm wrong, but….my next report isn't due for two years."

Jareth inhaled through his nose and then pulled his legs away from the desk. He sat properly, that blasted pleather chair creaking all the while.

"You are correct. However, I'm not here for your report. There's something else I'd like to speak with you about."

This response seemed to frighten the man, whose eyes widened as a tension shot through his posture. He frowned a little, then took a step forward.

"I see. Um...forgive me then. If my findings have been lacking or aren't to your liking, then I can always tailor—"

He cut himself short when Jareth raised a dismissive hand. The man stood still, his face twisting in discomfort.

Jareth, with ease, stood from the chair and took a step around the desk.

"Relax, Andeas," he said, feigning interest in the collection of degrees and licenses hung on the wall. "I'm not here to cut your funding."

The man, Andeas, exhaled in relief and actually placed a hand to his heart. When he was composed, he looked back up at Jareth, now confused rather than worried.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I am grateful," he said, and then eyed Jareth and all his casualty with concern. "But...I don't understand...why else would you be here?"

"Can you not guess?" Jareth asked. Andeas frowned. Jareth's eyes flickered between the frames, then he tilted his head curiously. "How long have you been here?" he asked next. Andeas glanced away.

"In this particular practice? About five years."

Jareth turned away from the wall and looked over at him.

"When were you last in the Underground?"

Andeas's brow drew. This line of questioning was...odd.

"Um...that would be for our last briefing. So...eight years ago."

"Hm…" Jareth glanced down and hummed —an ill omen from Andeas's point of view. "Have you not heard the news then?"

Andeas frowned, and then a jarring knock came at the door.

"Johnathan? Are you in there?"

Andeas, with panic in his eyes, turned around sharply.

"I'm on a call," he said back. "Is it urgent?"

"Oh. No. Sorry. Just come find me when you're done," replied some female.

Jareth watched Andeas (Johnathan?) watch the door as the sound of footsteps brought the woman away. After a moment, when he was sure they wouldn't be overheard, Andeas turned back to Jareth.

"Sorry about that…" he said, standing stiffly. "To answer your question, no. I've heard nothing of the Underground in recent times, Your Majesty."

Andeas was confused by the way the King's mouth twitched into a grin just then.

"I see. Well then, I suppose I'll simply say it. I've taken a wife."

Andeas's brow shot up his forehead.

"Oh. Really?" he asked, with obvious skepticism. It settled quickly, however, and he carried on with a dip of the head. "Congratulations, Your Grace," he said, then gradually lifted his head. "But...surely you didn't come all this way just to tell me that?"

Jareth smirked.

"No. I've come to fetch you."

"Huh?" was Andeas's immediate response. "For what? Er—forgive me. I don't mean to be impertinent. But, I'm afraid I don't understand…"

"Certainly these papers you've hung so prettily mean something, Andeas," Jareth cut him off, twiddling a finger over at the wall. "What do you mean, you don't understand?"

Confusion played out as a scowl on Andeas's face. His brow furrowed tightly, and then he drew back.

"Is...Her Majesty pregnant?"

Oh, what bafflement. Jareth had to actively stop himself from chuckling.

"Indeed," he said, simply.

"Con...gratulations," Andeas replied, mulling over the prospect. "Sire, that's marvelous."

"Yes, it is," Jareth agreed, nodding as he stepped closer to Andeas. "And you, Dr….Andrews, is it? You will be privileged with tending to her."

Andeas blinked repeatedly as surprise physically overtook him. He was not expecting that. He wasn't at all prepared—

"Ah...Your Majesty...I'm not sure that is wise," he said, stepping to the side as he looked down and mused at the floor. "I've only just begun compiling my research for fae application. It was to be my next dissertation. Any treatments given at this point would be experimental—"

"Fae applications are unnecessary," Jareth responded, his manner dismissive and rendering Andeas silent. "My wife is human."

Andeas blinked.

"Human?"

"Yes," Jareth replied, glancing down as he plucked at a leaf on one of Andeas's office plants. "Born in this world, actually."

Andeas stared. For whatever reason, he was greatly surprised.

"Oh. I...I didn't realize Your Majesty was interested in conquesting." —Although, he supposed he should have. It made his current situation more explainable. He still remembered the way the Council had laughed at him and his fanatic ideas —but not Jareth. No. The King of Goblins saw worth in the world above. Fitting, then, that he'd taken one such creature for his wife.

"Indeed," Jareth replied, dryly.

"You've confirmed she's pregnant?" Andeas asked.

Jareth nodded.

"May I ask how long you've been sexually active together?"

That must have been Aboveground candor, a crude side effect of his time here, Jareth thought. Otherwise, he might be offended. No nobleman of the Underground would speak so explicitly towards a king.

"Several months," Jareth responded.

Andeas's brow drew tight

"What?" And now he looked bothered. "I'm sorry. I was expecting you to say several years, at the least. You're...you're sure she's pregnant?" The look on his face implied he might actually expect Jareth to be joking with him. Now that was insulting. Jareth nodded, slowly this time. Andeas, with an intense look about him, gave a little huff of disbelief. "That's amazing…"

"I thought it was marvelous?" Jareth scoffed at him, smirking higher on one side as he took a step around the good doctor. Andeas was quiet, looking simultaneously perturbed and intrigued as he mulled all this over. Jareth made his way to lean back against the edge of the desk, gripping it tightly with gloved hands as he stared at him. "Well? What say you?" Andeas looked over attentively. "Can you handle the charge? Or has my patronage all these years been wasted?"

Andeas drew back.

"No. Wasted? Your Majesty, no, of course not. I have learned so much thanks to your support. This last decade especially has seen some profound advancements. I can tend to Her Majesty. Absolutely. Without question."

"Good," Jareth said, taking advantage of the poor man's fluster while casually leaning up off the desk. "You'll leave immediately."

"...immediately?" Andeas repeated. Jareth paused. There was a surprising bit of reluctance in his voice. When he looked over at him again, Andeas was staring at the floor. "Sire...forgive me, but...that won't be possible."

Jareth arched a brow.

"No?"

"I...have ends to tie," Andeas said, shrugging uncomfortably. "Living in this world in today's age is not like how it used to be. I can't simply vanish and then return later without causing detriment to my work or suspicion."

Impatience prickled at Jareth's nerves, but he bit it back. The repeated impertinence of this subject was eerily reminiscent of his dearly beloved. Lack of manners must be a sickness in this world, he thought with derision. Still, this man was passionate about his vocation and deeply indebted to him. And, objectively, there really was no better option.

"Then how long?" Jareth asked, showing what he considered to be a profound amount of endurance.

"I ask...for two days to see to my affairs. I...will also need assistance transitioning my equipment. Setting it up may also take some time. Will there be a facility for me to work in?"

Jareth crossed his arms, the leather of his jacket crinkling.

"I'll give you an entire floor if you so need it," he said starkly.

He expected a thank you. A gasp. A look of surprise. He was offering this son of lower nobility the opportunity of a lifetime. To serve an Orpian queen? To deliver the first heir of a nation? Truly, Jareth had expected a bit more gratitude than was seen in the tense frown Andeas gave him.

Jareth arched a brow, his head tilting.

"You look less than enthused," he said, his voice lowered.

Andeas, not even realizing the face he was making, pulled it back on a sharp inhale as his eyes suddenly widened.

"Oh, no. No, Sire. I am honored—"

"How about this," Jareth cut him off, too tired to entertain flattery. "You will remain in my domain throughout Her Majesty's pregnancy, and for any length of time needed thereafter. If your service proves invaluable, I'll repay that lost time with a reward of your choice." He spoke flatly, like it meant nothing to him. Andeas, however, was on guard. Years spent in the Above had made him careless. He was no longer so calculated in the way that he carried himself as he used to be. Truthfully, such an offer from the King felt unequivocally dangerous. Like it was a test. He didn't know how to respond to it, and then Jareth arched another brow. "Well, Dr. Andrews? What will it be?"

Andeas gulped. He dared not look away from the King, but he had little more confidence to do anything else. This was all so unexpected. He was in the end stage of his research. To pull away now could set him back for years. But...what did that really matter to beings who lived as long as them?

"Your Majesty is too generous," he ended up saying, then compulsively bowed his head. "You are my king. I will serve at your mere decree. I need not be compensated—"

"I'm aware of the magnanimity of my actions, Doctor," Jareth interjected, growing so utterly bored. "Consider it...an incentive to perform well. I don't think I need to tell you what will happen should your services prove to be regrettable, do I?"

Andeas's jaw tightened. To be threatened by royalty was one thing, but to be threatened by someone whose gaze could go so dark as the King of Goblins, was something else entirely.

"No, I understand," he said.

"Good," Jareth replied, gaze still sharp. "So name your incentive."

Andeas hesitated but knew better than to clam up a second time. His Majesty had been incredibly generous towards him over these last decades. A part of him felt guilty for taking advantage of it.

"I...would like funding to start in a new location, and...in a new discipline," he said, looking away anxiously. "There are great strides being made right now in neonatal and premature care. I believe that could be very beneficial in the future."

Despite his flighty stare, he spoke confidently. Jareth stared at him, assessing his character and, despite the amusement he made no effort to conceal, still felt a measure of respect towards him.

"Very well then," Jareth said, moving past him, but paused to lean in and speak tauntingly in his ear. "Was that so hard?"

Andeas did not respond, and merely turned around to track Jareth as he moved deeper into the room. He was back to inspecting the scenery, it seemed —his head cast back as his eyes trailed along the hideous wallpaper trim lining the ceiling.

"So, you have equipment to move?" Jareth asked. "I'd like to get started as soon as possible. How long am I to wait?"

Andeas reflexively glanced at the calendar on his desk.

"I….I have appointments until five today," he said. Jareth turned his head towards him with a sternly arched brow. Andeas frowned. "But….I'll see if I can get them covered," he amended.

Jareth smiled then. Widely. And it was a look that deeply unnerved his fellow fae. Oh, how good it was to be king sometimes.

That smile stretched even more when he replied,

"Excellent."

---

Sarah stood with a hand on her hip as she surveyed Amara's new bedroom, looking pleasantly content while Amara gaped all around.

"So, what do you think? Is it going to be big enough?"

Sarah was already grinning, a look she shared with Marie as they crossed gazes. Amara stepped into the center of the room, then had to raise a hand to cover her open mouth as she turned in a full circle.

"Big enough? Queen Sarah, it's more than big enough. I'd be content with the floor of a closet," she said.

Assuming that was facetious, Sarah huffed and moved away from the door.

"I somehow doubt that," she replied with a one-sided smirk.

Amara, not one to have her sincerity questioned, turned starkly around in her spot.

"Oh, no. I really would," she said imperatively. "I'm just that excited. I've always wanted to visit the Castle Beyond the Goblin City." And then she looked away again, marveling at the high ceiling and painted fixtures jutting from the walls. "There's just so much history— Oh! Of course I'm also excited to serve you, Your Majesty," she was quick to add, ever tactful. Sarah took a seat in an armchair nearby, turning it a bit so it faced them both. Taking Sarah's cue, Amara sat on the edge of her bed. Her attention shifted as she gave the mattress a little bounce —testing its firmness, it would seem. "My grandfather raised his children to be wary of court," she went on. "So I was starting to fear I might never have this opportunity. To be here, just being able to stare up at the ceiling like this, it's close to a dream come true."

Sarah crossed her legs and reclined, her smirk ever enduring as she watched Amara take it all in. Mariella moved to join her in the opposite chair.

"You must not get out much," Sarah said, jokingly, as she eyed Marie.

Amara bounced a couple more times then fell back against the bed. She was totally serious when she replied, "Not really, no." Her arms extended above her head, and she took in a deep breath, just soaking it all up. Then she rolled around until she was both on her stomach and facing them. "I know a lot about a lot of places, but most of that has come from books. I can hardly call myself cultured without having actual experiences."

Mariella smiled at her fondly.

"All in due time, I'm sure. You're still quite young, after all." And then she peered over at Sarah. "Just think of all the places we'll go and the fun the three of us will get to have."

Sarah quirked a brow.

"Yeah, I'll put you in charge of planning all that."

The thump of a trunk cut through the conversation —another heavy load left behind by weary goblins. They'd been coming and going for a few minutes now, soon to erect a small mountain of luggage close to the door. Sarah eyed all those mysterious boxes for a moment, then peered conspicuously around the room.

"...are you sure this room is going to be big enough? You've got a lot of stuff...I can always try to find something bigger."

The castle dormitories were not something Sarah would ever consider small. They were, however, smaller than her own room. They possessed all the same amenities (lounge, dining area, hearth, bed, bath, etc) just more compacted. Sarah had once made the same offer to Marie, who of course humbly refused. That said, Mariella had shown up with little more than the clothes on her back. Clutter wasn't something she had to worry about.

Amara peered over at her things, her head tilting curiously.

"You think this is a lot of things?" she asked, then scrunched her brow. "Oh no. And here I thought I was packing lightly." She sounded disappointed and looked over at Sarah and Marie with a frown. "Should I have brought less? I had no idea what to bring, honestly, so I let my aunt manage my packing. I can send it away if you'd like."

"What you've brought is fine, Amara," Mariella replied in Sarah's stead with a gentle wave. "Sarah wasn't criticizing you. She really is offering you a larger room."

Sarah slanted her eyes over at Marie. She didn't realize her question could be interpreted in any way other than frankly, but, apparently, she'd missed something. —and then she remembered the misunderstandings she and Mariella would also have way back when. God. It'd gotten legitimately frustrating, at times, just trying to convince her that she had free will of her own. Hm… But now look at her, speaking so suave in the ways of middle-class mortals.

Amara, well behind the curve, leaned up onto her hands and knees with widened eyes.

"Wait, really?" she asked, flabbergasted, then turned that look over to Sarah. "Forgive me for not taking your offer at face value. My aunt was very adamant about teaching me court politics before I left. But...it seems like she wasted her time." And she giggled with delight. "Fret not, I assure you, this room is plenty spacious enough. I can always enchant the wardrobes if needed."

Sarah blinked. Oh yeah. She forgot Amara could use higher level magics. Amara spoke on, unhindered.

"I actually find the layout very charming. Certainly different from my old room back home. I appreciate the change in scenery alone."

Just like Marie, bubbly Amara seemed to mean every word she said. Sarah glanced away with a casual shrug.

"Well, I'm glad you like it. I thought you might be underwhelmed because I left it a little sparse…" she said, eyeing all the nothing that surrounded the bed, their two chairs, and the wardrobe/dresser combo that was pressed against the left wall. "I figured you might want to decorate it yourself."

And now Amara drew back, perking up on her knees on the bed like a frazzled little gopher.

"Oh, may I?" she asked.

"Yeah. However you want. I don't care how you change it. Just wait till you see the remodeling we did with Marie's room a couple weeks ago." And she looked over at Mariella who leaned in with a grin and whispered,

"We may have gone a little crazy."

Amara fell back on her butt like she just could not fathom any more excitement, her thin ankles —hugged tight in white silk stockings— sticking out from the hem of her skirt. Sarah chuckled to herself, then turned her attention back to the goblins. They were just about done —taking careful time to artfully stack a few ornate hat boxes on various points of the mountain.

"It looks like that's all of it," she said, then looked over at Amara. "Do you want help unpacking?"

Amara swung her legs over the edge of the bed and kicked her feet.

"Oh, no. I'll do all that later—" and then her head shot up in a panic. "—if that's okay."

Sarah cracked a smirk.

"Yeah."

"So, how was your father, Amara? Was he terribly sad to see you go?" Mariella asked. Amara's body actually followed her eyes as she rolled them to the side, her torso leaning far to the left and then straightening again.

"Pff. Yes. Terribly," she said curtly. "The sap wouldn't stop crying. I actually slapped him when I stepped into the carriage." And then her eyes rolled in the opposite direction. "Although...deep down, I think he might have been laughing at me. Maybe they were tears of joy then. Hmph. The cad."

Amara's musing cut dead when her attention fixed on Sarah quietly thanking a goblin. Her brow drew together in confusion —a look Mariella picked up on and immediately addressed.

"Oh. Right," she said. Amara looked over. "You should know that Sarah has given new mandates on how to address the goblins. They are to be fully acknowledged now and thanked for their service. We even try to learn their names."

Amara blinked as her brows drew even tighter together.

"Really?" she asked, then looked over to Sarah. "That's so strange. I've never heard of such a thing."

"Exactly," Sarah said. "Where I come from, it's considered a basic show of respect to say please and thank you to whomever is offering assistance."

Amara, ever puzzled, crouched down and leaned forward as she gripped the edge of the bed.

"But...does that not bother them?" she asked in a near whisper. "We don't have many goblins in Sulana, but I was under the impression they preferred their discretion."

"Some of them do," Sarah answered, with a shrug. "I try to respect that too. Still, most of them seem really happy with the change."

"The quality of their performance and reliability has also increased, which is always a good sign," Marie tacked on with a finger pointed in the air. "It's been so noticeable that Majesty has even agreed to use this time as a kind of experiment. If all continues to go so well, the new laws may be applied throughout the entire kingdom."

This news was apparently shocking enough to cause Amara to physically draw back.

"Oh wow," she said, then fidgeted until she was sitting on her legs again. "How exciting. Okay. I'll do my best to remember." And then she looked over and down at the nearest goblin. "Th..thank you for carrying my things. I couldn't have done it without you."

Her words were persnickety. They matched her smile perfectly. The goblin, Creed, melted in his clogs as a blush (presumably) swept over his face. He bowed to her in a panic —one that Sarah found considerably noteworthy— and then ran clear out of the room. Amara giggled as she watched the little thing scamper, apparently unaware of the true nature of why she'd flustered him. Sarah found this secret knowledge thoroughly amusing, however, and might even pick on Creed about it sometime later. She let him go for now, facing Amara when she cheerfully asked, "How was that?"

Oh golly, Sarah thought as she regarded that big grin. Just how many unfortunate hearts had this girl blindly crushed back in Sulu?

"That was perfect," Sarah replied, just plain happy to be around someone so genuinely kind.

The motion of Mariella crossing her legs drew over both their attention. She fluffed out her skirt as she said,

"Well, if we're not going to unpack, then shall we skip ahead to the tour?"

Truthfully, Marie was getting antsy. They still hadn't given Amara her welcome present, and she was very much looking forward to her reaction. Sarah sensed these feelings on an unknown wavelength, and perked up in her chair too. —and then an intrusive thought put a frown on Mariella's brow. "Oh, but you've only just arrived. You must be travel weary. Should we get something to eat instead? Are you hungry, Amara?"

Amara moved to sit cross-legged and held her ankles.

"I ate on the road, actually. But, if the two of you are hungry, then I could eat again. I'm also okay with waiting until supper." And then her brow shot up her forehead. "Oh. That reminds me. Is there a specified time for that? A schedule to memorize? When exactly should I be up in the morning? Will I have any chores to do?"

She blinked expectantly between Sarah and Marie. Sarah, with a calm breath, gestured at Mariella with her hand.

"It's allll you," she said.

Mariella pretended to clear her throat, then sat up to the edge of her seat.

"We have no chores, actually, nor are there any specified duties to be assigned between the two of us."

And now Amara's blinks were of confusion.

"Really?" she asked.

Sarah smirked.

"Really," she repeated.

Amara looked over at her and tilted her head worriedly.

"Then...how will I serve you?"

"Marie usually picks out my clothes, and does my hair for me," Sarah said, then shrugged. "You're welcome to join in if you want. That said, I don't like the idea of being served. Marie only does those things because she likes it."

And Marie smiled eagerly.

"Indeed. I love getting her all prettied up."

Sarah slanted her eyes towards Marie.

"And...I have yet to perfect the Underground aesthetic," she added, then peered forward at Amara again. "I get that it might seem strange saying this, Amara, but I didn't invite you here to be my servant. I invited you because I was hoping we could be friends."

Sarah couldn't gauge the look that twisted Amara's face just then. Was she...touched? Creeped out? It was anyone's guess.

"Friends? Really?" she asked.

Sarah arched a brow.

"Really."

Amara surprised the two of them with a squeak that sounded suspiciously close to a sob. She even brought a knuckle to her eye as her mouth pursed tight in a warbled grin.

"Queen Sarah, I'm touched," she emphatically said. Ah. So it was the former— "You are so kind. I will do my best," she went on, then placed two fingers to her heart in a decisive gesture that Sarah had not seen done before. "I swear it."

Sarah wondered if it would be rude to laugh.

"Just Sarah," she said, hoping to keep the girl calm. Amara nodded.

"Right. Sarah," she said, then settled herself with a sharp inhale as she turned to Marie. "Alright. So, what else?"

"Hm…" Marie mumbled, tapping her chin as she glanced upward in thought. "I usually report to Sarah's chambers around nine."

"Nine?" Amara repeated. "But that's so late!"

Mariella paused just long enough to show Sarah a wry grin.

"Yes…it is, isn't it?" she said, giving her queen a shrewd and teasing side eye. Sarah brushed it off with an upturned nose. "However, even at that time, His Majesty is with her fairly often," Mariella went on, turning her attention back to Amara. "In instances when they are together, I just leave before I'm noticed and wait until I'm summoned."

Amara listened attentively.

"I see. Okay." And she nodded between each utterance. "What are we to do then?"

"Whatever you want," Sarah interjected. "If you're not with me, then consider it free time. You're welcome to spend it however you choose. I don't consider it my business, and you don't need to ask permission for things."

Rather than familiar joy, Sarah was confused to find Amara's expression twisting with disconcertion. She hesitated before replying, settling on the words:

"That...that feels precarious."

Mariella almost laughed.

"Oh, it is. Believe me, I'm still getting used to it," she said, with a weird kind of amused exasperation that Sarah wondered if she should find offensive. "There are entire days that pass when Sarah is with His Majesty, and I just plain don't know what to do with myself."

Amara's mouth drew into a pucker and she glanced down at her lap contemplatively.

"Goodness…" she mumbled, deep in thought. "I have to admit, I had no idea what to expect when coming here, but I am still incredibly surprised."

Sarah leaned back in her seat as if that kind of swag had ever been natural to her.

"Yeah...I'm a pretty laid back monarch," she said flatly. "Jareth doesn't host Court, so I guess we're lucky in that sense. We don't have to worry about all those stupid rules. Really...it's just a lot of board games and cake." She wove a hand from side to side as she spoke, her eyes averted as she slouched. However, despite her nonchalance, she could feel a little voice going eek in the back of her skull. Did...did she really just say that? What the hell kind of impression was that to make on one of her nobles? She was supposed to be a queen, remember? She was supposed to be ruling and making social strides for the people. And yet, even under the most biased perspective, board games and cake was still the crux of it all. Geez. (and let's not even mention Yore)

She groaned internally, fiercely regretting her poor posture as she realized then and there that she needed to step it up pretty damn soon...

"I heard His Majesty keeps the castle closed to the public, but I didn't realize he held no court at all," Amara said, in total ignorance of Sarah's quandary. She was looking at Marie now, but it was still Sarah who responded.

"Yeah. Even I will say...it's a little weird," she said, shifting in her chair. "But, he says he doesn't like people, or trust them, and he's strong enough to not have to rely on the pomp and circumstance of it, so...I guess I get that. He's actually pretty introverted...considering how freaking flashy he is…" Thoughts turned to images that went away with her. Sarah's eyes became vacant as she mused over a certain something, and then blinked herself clear out of it.

"I see. How interesting," Amara said, and fiddled with the trim on her skirt. "Who else resides in the castle then? If there is no court…"

"Oh. It's just us."

Amara froze and glanced up.

"Pardon?"

Sarah shrugged.

"I mean, there's the three of us, Jareth, and Roldan."

She took a second to double check that, stupidly wondering if pregnancy brain was making her forget someone. But. Wait. It was too early for that, right? Oh geez. She really had no idea. Maybe she was just sleep deprived. Yeah. Let's go with that.

Amara blinked at the two of them in alarm.

"...that's it? In this entire castle?" she asked.

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Well...there are loads of goblins. Jareth doesn't seem to care about them running all over the place," she said, and then Mariella piped in—

"—as long as it's below the fifteenth floor."

"Right," Sarah replied, looking over at her with a pointed finger. "I forgot. The castle is kind of divided. The lower half is basically a goblin playground. That's where Jareth and Roldan do a lot of their business with visitors. The upper half is just for us and VIPs...should there ever be any."

Amara continued to gape.

"I...did not know any of this," she said with a little shake of the head. "I say, I'm baffled. To think there were only four people filling this great temple…"

"Remember when I said you might get bored here?" Sarah asked. Amara looked over. "That's why."

A curled index finger went to Amara's lower lip, and she scrunched her brow as she thought it all over.

"That's all so interesting…" she mumbled, and then perked in her spot. "Oh. I keep saying that, don't I? I need a better word...intriguing, maybe? Curious? Hm…" She looked down at the bed again and pursed her lips. Sarah wondered what exactly about this topic could be so insightful. "So...will it be just the five of us for dinner, then?" she asked, lowering her hand back to her lap. "Goodness. Such a small gathering with the King and Queen...it sounds so intimidating—"

"Actually, Amara, we don't usually gather for supper."

Amara looked over at Marie.

"No?" she asked.

Marie shook her head.

"No. Sarah and His Majesty almost always dine together."

Sarah, already knowing full well the reaction that she was about to witness, braced. Amara's face lit up, her concern fading to nothing as affection shown as a warm smile.

"Really?" and she turned that wide grin right to Sarah. "Aw, that's so sweet."

Sarah looked away and fidgeted.

"Yeah, yeah…"

"And, given that it's just been Master Roldan and I," Mariella went on, saving poor Sarah by calling over Amara's attention and all her wholesome mirth along with it. "—It seemed a bit inappropriate for us to dine alone with each other. I usually take my dinner in my room." and then she paused to think. "Although...now that you're here, I suppose it would be okay for the three of us to dine together. You, Master Roldan, and I? That might be nice. …if he's interested." and then she shrugged dismissively. "If not, we'll always have each other."

Amara hummed happily.

"That would be splendid," she said.

Then Mariella looked over at Sarah.

"What do you think, Sarah? Would you be interested in joining? The four of us could make a time of it whenever His Majesty is busy—" and then she cut herself short. Oops. Tender subject. Surprisingly, however, Sarah didn't seem particularly phased.

"I guess. Might as well plan for tonight," she said with only slight annoyance. "If what Roldan said is true, then who the hell knows when Jareth will be back anyway."

Sensing displeasure in Sarah's tone, Amara tilted her head and frowned.

"You mentioned His Majesty was away from the castle today. Where has he gone? Someplace far?" she asked.

Sarah huffed.

"Yeah. You could say that," she said with a deriding eye roll. " Apparently, he went Aboveground."

Amara's brows perked up.

"Oh? What for?"

"No idea," Sarah said, then glanced low and to the side. "—but I'm definitely going to find out as soon as he gets back."

Mariella, sensing tension brewing, leaned forward with a placating grin.

"Sarah is a little miffed because His Majesty did not inform her he was leaving," she explained. Sarah quirked a brow.

"I don't care that he left. I care about where he went."

Amara regarded Sarah curiously.

"You don't want him to go Aboveground?" she asked.

Sarah shook her head.

"No. It's not that. I'm just...bothered because I can't go too."

Amara blinked again —in that way that meant she'd been confronted with something jarring.

"Whyever not?" she asked.

Sarah's head shook subtly in frustration as she shrugged.

"I don't know. I really just don't. There's some magical, conflict of interest thing about the contract we made when we first met. Jareth says that our contract made it so I could leave, but because I chose to come back, the magic of the Underground won't let me leave again."

Amara's brow furrowed together tightly, and her lip curled like she was disgusted.

"I'm...afraid I don't understand what you're saying," she said, then shifted on the bed as she sorted through confusion. "Could you explain it a little more? What contract did you make when you met?"

Sarah sighed.

"I made a wish. Jareth was...maneuvering me into making it, I guess. Only, I made a different wish from what he intended."

"What wish was he hoping for?"

"That I would wish myself away to him, so he could swoop in and save me from my angsty teen years...I guess." Her voice trailed off as a memory threatened to distract her. She shook clear of it, however, and carried on. "But I didn't. I wished away my younger brother instead. I regretted it immediately, though, and asked for him back. Jareth, being Jareth, wouldn't. I had to win him back instead. So, he made up a game where I had thirteen hours to solve the Labyrinth."

Sarah spoke as if this was a casual matter. Amara, however, only grew more and more disturbed.

"You...ran the Labyrinth?" she asked.

Sarah didn't notice the change in her tone.

"Yeah," she replied.

Amara shifted closer.

"And...did you win?"

"Yes. I won, and Jareth gave my brother back. I went home, and...thought that was the end." That time the memory got her, and she huffed while cracking a rueful smile. She gave herself a moment to let it play out, then spoke less passionately. "Turns out, I was way wrong."

Amara stared with narrowed eyes at Sarah and her dour, downward spiral. She was just too confused to focus on anything else. Her hands gripped her crossed ankles tightly as she leaned forward on the bed.

"So, His Majesty...had you run the Labyrinth?" she asked again.

Sarah paused her introspection and peered up, just now realizing how intently Amara was staring at her. She didn't get it, so awkwardly replied,

"...yes?" and then winced as she shifted back in her seat. "Why? Does that mean something to you?"

Amara drew back and quirked a brow.

"Well...a bit, yes," she said with some disbelief. "It's...interesting that he chose that as your challenge. But...I think the rest of your story now makes more sense."

Sarah, not expecting to gain any insight on her complicated past —from Amara of all people— sat forward on the edge of her seat.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"His Majesty told you it is the Underground keeping you here? Explicitly? Are you sure?"

Sarah scowled a little.

"Um...maybe? I think?"

Damn, she couldn't remember exactly. Yes, yes that's what she'd thought he'd said. But why did Amara look so skeptical?

"Hm...well, that just doesn't make sense," she said, pinching her chin as she glanced downward. Sarah felt a flare of something shoot through her. "The magic of this world isn't something that can trap you," Amara went on, looking up from her lap. "I think...it'd be more accurate to say it's the magic of the Labyrinth."

Sarah looked over at Marie, and both blinked in perplexity.

"...there's a distinction?" Sarah asked.

"Oh yes," Amara replied, shifting to re-cross her legs when one foot fell asleep. "I'm a bit of a history buff, you see. —legends, old magic, architecture, the lot? It was actually my main course of study before switching to music. That's partly why I'm so proud to be a Goblin citizen, and to be sitting here in this room. This place truly is the heart of all Orpia," she said, providing generous exposition through her rambling. "Did you know that this castle is believed to have been built by the first king, Orpus?"

Sarah sat back a little.

"I did, actually," she said.

"Well, it is also believed that when he built it, he infused it with his own magic. That is why it behaves so strangely. No other house in the world changes its mood like the Goblin Castle," Amara explained, sounding delighted by the idea, and looked up and all around as if the room might react. "It's astounding. This is the oldest structure in known existence, and yet Orpus's magic is still so strong. It is as if a part of him lives on within it. Mm, isn't that romantic? My, what a powerful creature he must have been."

Sarah blinked through, what she considered to be, irrelevant details and pushed on.

"That's...interesting, but...what does it have to do with the Labyrinth?" she asked.

"Oh. Was I getting off track? Sorry," Amara said with an apologetic smile. "I only brought it up because it is actually directly related to the Labyrinth. You see, there are no remaining texts documenting that time. Lost history n' all that. Everything was destroyed in the Fendrin Purge."

"The what?"

"The purge?" Amara repeated. "The movement that passed when the church of the Alvari was denounced and replaced with the writ of Fendr'Al?"

Sarah darted her eyes from left to right awkwardly. She felt like she was supposed to know that. The term Fendr'Al rang a bell though… That was...the church of the aristocracy…?

"Ah. Of course. I've heard of that..." she said, and it *technically* wasn't a lie.

"Yes. Well, without those recounts, all we can really do is speculate —but it's oblivious there's some sort of connection. There are several theories floating around about the true origins of the Labyrinth and its purpose. Some believe it existed even before the time of Orpus, and Orpus merely chose it as a means to fortify his castle. Although, there are no legitimate theories as to its origin in that scenario. Most believe it was created after...also as a means to fortify his castle," Amara said, smiling sheepishly at the end. Sarah put on her thinking cap.

"So...if it was created after the castle, does that mean Orpus made it too?"

Amara pursed her lips and glanced up.

"Hm...I don't think so," she said, then tapped her round lower lip. "It's been studied in the past. The Labyrinth has its own magical signature —or so I've read. Not that that's particularly noteworthy, though. Every caster leaves their own mark in the magic they use. What's interesting about that, though, is that the Labyrinth's signature is different from the castle's —which implies someone else made it. Although...I cannot say decisively either way."

Sarah listened quietly as Amara talked. She already knew the bit about magic signatures from her lessons with Jareth, so she agreed that that didn't necessarily mean anything important. However,

"Someone told me that the Labyrinth is a unique entity. That it operates by its own set of rules," she said, recalling her recent conversation with Liana.

"Indeed, I believe it," Amara replied. "Magic back then...it was still being discovered, crafted, and refined. Over the years, certain techniques have evolved while others were discarded and forgotten. Whatever the spell or force that created that thing was, it is far beyond our comprehension now."

Beyond our comprehension…Sarah mused. …even Jareth's?

"So...you think that it's the magic tied to the Labyrinth specifically that's keeping me here, not the almighty atmosphere?" Sarah asked, briefly glancing over at Marie with a sharpened eye. Amara nodded.

"Yes. Exactly," she said, then rolled back to stretch out her legs in front of her. She had yet to pick up on any suspicious vibes from Sarah, and so ignorantly sorted out the ruffles of her skirt neatly over her shins. "I have a theory on why, too, if you'd like to hear it?"

Sarah arched a deft brow.

"Yes, please."

"This is...a controversial opinion —what I'm about to say— but I do find it makes the most sense. I believe that this castle was never meant to be a castle," Amara said, shifting her eyes between Sarah and Marie like it was some big bad secret. "I think it was originally an Alvari temple. The temple, as it were. It's known that King Orpus was deeply spiritual and had close ties to the Alvari, so I believe he made this structure to serve as their grand shrine. I also believe that the Labyrinth was created after it, but I don't think it was made for defensive purposes. I think...it was created to serve as a rite of passage."

A little tick of attention twitched Sarah's ears.

"Rite of passage?" she repeated. She glanced at Marie again, but she looked just as attentive. Apparently, these ideas were all new to her too.

"Yes," Amara replied, none the wiser. "The Castle Beyond the Goblin City sits at the precise epicenter of the entire continent, but there are no particular landmarks or natural resources here for hundreds of miles. Isn't that strange? Not a good location for the center of civilization, if you ask me. I think passionate souls were meant to make a pilgrimage here and, once they arrived, tried to prove their worth in the Labyrinth."

Sarah scowled, having not heard anything even remotely like this from anyone, ever. Not from Liana, not in Roldan's lessons, and certainly not from Jareth. And, from the look growing on Marie's face, it seemed like Amara's theory might be considered fanatical. She'd have to ask one of those aforementioned individuals about this later… No. She definitely would.

Thank God Amara liked to talk.

"I've read many folktales, most regarded as no more than bedtime stories," Amara continued candidly. "But...there's always a bit of truth to those things, isn't there? Based on those, I think that the Labyrinth tested a person's character. If that person was found to be in accordance with the Alvari's ideals, then the Labyrinth would allow them to pass through and join the Al Favra at the center. If they were found lacking, however...they would be lost within those walls for all of time." She held out her hands for dramatic effect, but both Sarah and Marie were steeled. Amara paused, pulled back her narrative embellishments, and carried on.

"Maybe the Labyrinth was triggered when His Majesty challenged you? Maybe it tested you like the stories said. Maybe it found you worthy of joining the Alvari ranks and led you safely to the center? I think...that may be where the conflict of interest you mentioned is coming from. You made a contract with His Majesty. The magic of that is binding. Yet...so is the Labyrinth's magic. A different magic. Perhaps what His Majesty meant is that your victory caused two events simultaneously. Your contract allowed you to go back to the Above, but the Labyrinth decreed that you belonged here. When you came back….perhaps...it considered that your acceptance of the vocation it thought you wanted? Perhaps the Labyrinth thinks it's protecting you by keeping you here? Hm…"

Her voice trailed off as she mused, falling into deep rumination as she sorted through the various possibilities. Sarah, meanwhile, was now noticeably perturbed.

Mariella looked over at her with a frown.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Sarah looked over sharply. "You look bothered."

Sarah's brow furrowed angrily.

"I am," she replied, and shifted in her seat before looking back at Amara. "Jareth...Jareth is the king here. He should know more about this stuff than anyone."

Amara didn't pick up on Sarah's irritation, her tone remaining chipper when she responded, "Oh yes, undoubtedly."

Sarah scowled downward as she processed.

"So why...didn't he just tell me that? Why did he explain it in such a roundabout way?" she asked —to no one in particular.

"Oh, I don't know," Amara answered, earning her attention again. "I don't even know if anything I said is even true. Like I said, it's just speculation."

Right. Just speculation. So why did it seem like the pieces were coming together? Why did she feel...like she'd been lied to?

"He told me he knew I wouldn't be able to go back a second time. He said there were unforeseen consequences because of our contract. He said that the rules of our agreement hid me and my friends from him, protected us from him until I turned eighteen. But, was that only half of it? " she asked, thinking out loud to try and keep calm and rational. "So...does that mean you're right, Amara? Did he...know about this rite of passage? Why would he even have me do that if it was just a stupid game to get me to notice him?"

Exasperation was mounting, well managed as it was. Amara watched Sarah with a look of sympathy, which she shrewdly cast to Marie, and found it reflected right back at her.

"Maybe it wasn't," Amara said, her tone suddenly dispassionate.

Sarah scowled her way out her thoughts.

"Hm?"

She looked up and caught Amara's eye. She wasn't smiling anymore.

"Maybe it wasn't a stupid game to get you to notice him. Or at least...not one as trivial as that label implies," she clarified.

Sarah leaned up, her posture turning guarded when she asked, with confusion,

"I don't understand. What else...would it have been?"

She watched Amara's eyes dart to Marie uncomfortably. Apparently, the two of them knew something Sarah didn't.

"Part of his conquest," Amara said flatly. "Forgive me if this sounds insensitive, but...conquest courtships are known for their...grandeur." and she winced a little. The tightness on Marie's face implied that she agreed. "And the scale of this...sounds rather typical, actually. Maybe His Majesty triggered the Labyrinth's trial on purpose...to see what kind of character you possess and if you would be accepted into this world —if you would make a good queen. Perhaps...he was even hoping it would keep you for him then and there."

Sarah felt a sudden weight leave her shoulders, not knowing why she'd expected a reveal big enough to move heaven and earth. However, rather than being replaced with relief, she felt something of annoyance. Of course that was it. That was always it. In the end, it always boiled back down to his barbaric and selfish Grande Amore.

"Okay….yeah. Yeah, that sounds more like him," she responded, thoroughly lackluster. Mariella frowned, watching her as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well thanks, Amara. It's nice to get some actual answers for once. I guess Jareth and I will have even more to talk about when he gets back."

Amara's brow turned down. Now everyone was frowning.

"I feel like I've distressed you...I'm sorry," she said. Sarah smiled in spite of herself.

"No. No, you really haven't," she said, pushing back her bad vibes for everyone's sake. "I just...get a little irritated sometimes when I think about the past. Mine and Jareth's courtship wasn't exactly all kittens and rainbows."

"I understand. I had a feeling of that when we spoke at the reception," Amara replied, glancing down to her lap briefly. "But...has all ended well? I do hope so, but...please, don't be afraid to speak honestly to me. I know we've only just met, but I hold both your confidences as sacred."

There was a twinkle of a plea in her big eyes when she looked up from her lap. A right puppy-dog look, that was. It forced Sarah to crack an honest smirk —comforted by it.

"Hmph. It's getting there," Sarah replied reassuringly.

Marie regarded her and her sad smile with a bit of relief.

"Good. I'm glad," Amara said. "The two of you look so intense together. I'd feel terribly foolish if it was all in my head."

Sarah impulsively huffed.

"Oh, we're definitely intense…" she muttered, then pulled her restless self out of her chair. "On that note, how about we go do something? I have a feeling sitting for much longer is going to make me broody."

Amara, with the readiness of a spring bunny, hopped to her feet. Mariella stood...like a normal person would.

"Of course! Perhaps...we could take that tour you mentioned?" Amara asked, smiling sweetly as she tapped her fingers together.

"Yes. Right. We'll start it, anyway. It'll take a few days to cover the whole castle," Sarah said, then looked over at Marie for confirmation. "We should probably start with how to find my room…right?"

Mariella nodded, then turned to Amara.

"Yes, let's do that. It's not far from here. Most of the places we frequent are within the same wing of the castle, so you'll learn quickly. My room is right across the hall, too, so we can go about together until you're comfortable navigating the castle on your own."

Amara listened attentively.

"Yeah, it's easy to get lost," Sarah added, in the process of turning to open the door. "The halls actually change sometimes. But I guess...that would be Orpus's ghost messing with us, right?"

The latch clicked open, and Sarah stepped out into the hall. Mariella followed, and then Amara —the latter giggling to herself.

"Oh Queen Sarah, you're so funny," she said, closing the door behind her. "But yes. I've heard tales of that. Moody indeed."

They hit the usual spots: the Queen's chambers, the library, the dining hall, throne room, pool, and just a few of the goblin game rooms. As Sarah explained some of the more nonsensical places, along with the dangers of the white rooms, she felt oddly attuned with her inner hostess. It made her realize just how familiar with this place she'd become, how comfortable it now was. Her home.

Her home away from home, anyway. Hm...no, too angsty.

All the while, she and Marie were stealthily in sync, circling nearer and nearer to the real objective of that tour. Oh, what anticipation. Too bad Amara didn't realize any of it.

When they reached the door to their final destination, Sarah paused with her hand on the knob and looked back at Amara coyly.

"We're here. Are you ready?"

Amara blinked and looked to the side.

"Um. Here?"

Sarah's canny grin must have made her nervous, for now she was standing stiff. Sarah turned that expression over at Marie, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah. Your surprise, remember?" Sarah asked.

Amara looked between Sarah and Marie, and then drew back to look at the door.

"Wait. You mean that beautiful bedroom wasn't my surprise?"

This time Sarah did laugh. Just a little.

"Heh. No," she said pointedly, reveling in Amara's guarded stare as she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

She gestured for Amara to enter first this time, lingering in the doorway with Marie as they watched her take a few careful steps inside.

Through a tendril of thick curly hair, Sarah could see those doe-eyes of hers widen and damn near sparkle.

"Jareth showed me this when I first came here," Sarah said, providing exposition to fill the void as Amara gawked around the music hall. "I don't play any instruments, so I wasn't particularly interested. But, seeing how you're a bonafide maestro, I figured you might make good use of it."

Marie closed the door behind them, and together all three admired the newly refurbished room. It was a large, square space, with an incredibly high ceiling purposefully vaulted to direct and amplify acoustics. The far wall across from them featured three ginormous windows, which happened to be letting in just the right amount of sun for that time of day. There were a few couches, chaises mainly, decorated about, and a desk in the far left corner fit for composing. In the center was an immaculate grand piano, shiny and black, and served as an imposing centerpiece in the otherwise dull, grey room. Lining the walls were closets and wardrobes and drawers, all of which Sarah knew were filled to the brim with a myriad of instruments and their accessories. The walls themselves, however, were mostly bare —sporting the odd tapestry or two.

"It's not quite finished yet," Sarah said, looking down from said tapestries. "The soundboards on the walls were pretty moth-eaten, so they need to be replaced. Other than that though...I think the goblins did a great job cleaning everything up. This place has been in storage for a long time. I was worried it wouldn't be ready by the time you got here."

Amara, with a frog named Awe lodged in her throat, swiveled around on her heel and then fisted her hands tightly out at her sides.

Her look of sudden vehemence was legitimately intimidating. Sarah braced for it—

"Oh my goodness. Sarah, this is...this is amazing!"

Excitement nearly burst out of her —probably through her eyes first (Sarah mused) judging by how freaking large and livid they became. In a flurry, she twirled right back around and scampered off, bouncing and clicking her shoes on the stone tile as she inspected every little detail as quickly as she could.

"Jareth doesn't have a lot of free time for hobbies," Sarah went on, following her about at a leisurely pace. Although she'd certainly expected it, seeing Amara so happy actually brought her relief. It was a satisfaction that Mariella shared as well. The two of them kept exchanging smirks as if they were just so proud of their bouncing little lordess. "—so everything was all covered up and dusty. We asked a few of the goblins to get it all put back together and tuned and stuff."

Amara was listening, of course, but her attention was transfixed on whatever happened to be directly in front of her. She nearly gasped when opening a closet and finding it filled with an assortment of freshly oiled woodwinds.

Sarah crossed her arms contently and looked over at Marie.

"Came out pretty good, didn't it?"

Mariella smiled widely.

"Indeed. It's unrecognizable."

During the time of that exchange, Amara scuttled over to the piano. That had been her first instinct, of course, but oh how she wanted to build herself up for it.

That may have been a mistake, however. It made her far too stimulated to handle the flurry of emotion she was hit with next.

She'd just placed her hand against the keyboard. Sarah and Marie were still smiling at one another. Amara saw a fanciful string of gold, hand painted calligraphy snaking across the case, and felt her spirit leave her.

She thought she might have died for a split second. Certainly, her heart was no longer beating.

"Oh...oh my…'' she said breathlessly. Sensing the dramatic change in her energy, Sarah and Marie looked over at her. "Is this a...series four Alphwyn?" she asked (to them?) and then aggressively jumped back with a gasp. "Dear gods, I touched it," she said, and then her hands sprang to her mouth as she frantically turned to face them. "Is this really what I think it is?"

Sarah looked at her and then Mariella awkwardly. She had no idea what was happening right now.

"Um...what do you think it is?" she asked.

Amara, placing her hand to her heart and gazing down at the thing with a look of actual reverence, took one more step back from it.

"A...very famous piano," she spoke quietly. "A very expensive piano. A piano easily worth more than my father's entire estate."

Sarah's brow shot up her forehead.

"What?" she asked, then impulsively approached it. "Are you serious?"

Amara, still staring at it, nodded silently.

"I can't believe I'm actually seeing one…" she eventually said, then regained some faculty. She approached it again and dared to touch it, lightly running the tips of her fingers along the edge of its glossy cover. "They are very rare nowadays —crafted by a true master who passed centuries ago. But...of course His Majesty would have one. A man of fine taste, he must be. Oh, I might swoon."

Indeed, Sarah believed her. The poor girl actually swayed, but wouldn't dare sit on the bench. By now all three were standing directly before it. Sarah knew it was a nice piece of equipment just by looking at it, but she had no idea it was so special—

"This was actually the late Queen Aleigha's," Mariella said, to everyone's surprise. Both Sarah and Amara looked at her readily.

"Was it?" Sarah asked. Huh. Marie hadn't mentioned that before...

"Mhm. She gifted it to Lord Davion when he was young," Marie explained, then looked specifically at Amara to explain more. "I served as a consort to Prince Davion. He's very fond of the piano as well —always playing."

Amara's eyes widened all over again. For a moment, Sarah wondered if she would drop to her knees and pray at it.

"Oh wow," she said, keeping everything else back. Mariella glanced around the room.

"I believe this was the room where His Majesty and Lord Davion took their lessons as children, or so he told me. He was very attached to this piano, and would often lament about leaving it behind. I'm glad to see it's still in such good shape."

Sarah pursed her lips, looking away from Marie and back at the keys. Envisioning young Davion sitting there, tapping away came easily to her. He seemed quite passionate about his playing when she saw him at Fyrn. It made her wonder if Jareth also played. Objectively, yes, he probably could —but did he enjoy it? She was disappointed to find that envisioning him in that same scenario was not so easy.

Amara was lost in thought as well, albeit of a totally different caliber.

"I'm overwhelmed," she said, placing her hands to her cheeks. "Truly, I'm honored to even be looking at it."

That made Sarah laugh. She came out of her daydreaming and looked at Amara with a smirk.

"Heh. What's going to happen when you play it, I wonder?"

That comment did not compute. Sarah could see Amara's brain fry a little just trying. Her eyes widened, and she looked over sharply as if terrified.

"What? I can play it?" she asked.

Sarah stifled a chuckle.

"Why do you think we came here? Just to gawk?" she asked.

Amara drew back, pursing her lips tightly.

"Well...yes, actually," she said. Sarah scoffed.

"Please. I had no idea this piano was so valuable, but now it seems like even more of a waste to let it just sit there under sheets," she said, then looked around at everything else. "I probably can't give you the individual instruments, but I wanted this room to be a gift for you. Marie was right earlier, you're going to have a lot of down time, so know that you can come here whenever you want and play." And then she gestured towards the far corner. "There's even a desk with sheet paper over there where you can write music."

As those prospects finally came to dawn on Amara's wildly overwhelmed mind, she blinked quickly and asked, again,

"R-really?"

Sarah grinned teasingly.

"Really."

Happy with Amara's reaction, Sarah re-crossed her arms and shot a glance over at Marie.

"Marie kind of took over the pool room," she said, then shrugged. "—so I figured you should have your own space too."

Mariella grinned cheekily when she responded,

"It's true. I kind of did."

But oh, these fine, regal ladies were just too casual for her. Amara felt like an absolute git being the only one so worked up. She was just so touched. In such spirited disbelief. Oh, what a happy day. What a happy lifetime should she die right here and now—

Sarah's face tensed with alarm when she realized actual tears were beading in Amara's eyes

"A-Amara—"

"I'm sorry. Please ignore me," Amara said, near to sob as she shooed them both away. "These are happy tears, I swear. First I'm given the most gracious queen ever, and now I have an Alphwyn all to myself? This is the happiest day of my life." Her face turned deep red as she fought to keep it together, internally berating the curse of her complexion. Sarah wasn't sure what to do, whether or not to laugh, or reach out and touch her shoulder.

Mariella apparently decided on the latter —which was immediately confirmed as the wrong thing to do. Amara turned away from her in grand fashion, lamenting up at the ceiling as she shielded her eyes with the back of her wrist.

"Oh no. Don't even look at me," she said with despair. "I'm so happy, it's made me wretched."

With option B proven an obvious fail, Sarah opted for option A and wholeheartedly laughed.

---

The remainder of the day passed quickly.

Now it was nearly over. Sarah rubbed at her face and let out a deep breath, feeling warm and refreshed as she exited her washroom after a cozy bath. Not too warm, Marie had reminded her —to which Amara had emphatically agreed.

It was kind of late. She and her girls had since dined and parted ways. Darkness reigned beyond her bedroom window now, nary even a single star breaking through. It must be overcast, she thought vacantly. That didn't happen often. Maybe it would finally rain.

She sat on the edge of her bed and absorbed the silence. She was feeling tired all of a sudden. It would probably be best to go to bed, but…

Jareth still wasn't back. His absence bothered her. What was he doing right now? And with whom? Why was he even in the Aboveground at all?

How long would he be there? Several days, like Roldan foretold? Did he even care how that might upset her?

Yes, she was feeling very tired all of a sudden.

Her eyes were slanted over at nothing, and then a telltale hum in the air sent her looking straight ahead.

"Oh," she murmured, like it was reflex.

Jareth was standing in front of her, leaning back against the bathroom door with his head tilted. He was quiet. Observing her. Sarah blinked at him, just to make sure he was really there.

"You're back."

Her voice was deadpan, too tired to convey the surprise she actually felt. After all this time, his sudden appearances still gave her a jolt.

Jareth continued to silently regard her, his expression lax in a way that was less than content.

"I am," he replied, and then his brow tightened with a hint of concern. "Are you alright?"

Sarah's eyes darted, rendering her even more suspicious, before she closed them and shrugged.

"I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

Jareth leaned up from the door. Sarah listened to the slow sound of his footsteps as he approached her, but she didn't look over. He, however, studied the minor tension building in her face all the while.

"Indeed it has," he said.

Sarah looked over, warily it seemed. He was standing directly before her now, and their eyes locked. She was sure she was frowning, but Jareth...he just looked so relaxed.

A ghostly smile formed at the ends of his mouth before he sighed and sank down to his knees.

Sarah stiffened —for a moment anyway. He'd caught her off guard. Her once tired eyes widened as she stared down at him, holding up her arms when he wrapped his around her waist and held her. His head turned to the side and nestled onto her lap. She heard him let out another exhale, before his posture went lax and cemented there. She wasn't sure how to react. She was bothered for numerous reasons, yet her natural instinct was to smile. To reach down and run her fingers through his hair…

"I missed you," he said, and squeezed.

Sarah frowned. Even as her hands lowered. Even as her worry faded. Even as her fingers had their way and combed lightly through his hair, she frowned. Her other hand laid itself over the back of his shoulders and stayed. And it felt...nice.

"...where have you been?" she asked, curious of how he would answer. Jareth breathed in deeply through his nose, the action lifting his shoulders as she held him, and then nuzzled her.

"The Aboveground," he replied.

Sarah's hand paused its petting. Was she... actually surprised he hadn't lied?

"Oh?" she said, brow furrowing as she stared downward at the top of his head. "Why...didn't you tell me you were going?"

A light kiss could be felt against her stomach before he turned his head and laid it back down.

"You ran out of the room, remember?" he said. Sarah scowled. "And I had no time to waste."

Conflicted feelings caused her hand to fall dead once more, this time pulling away to lay limply against the bed. Jareth took note of that mannerism, his eyes training on the twitchy tips of her fingers.

"You seem depressed. Did something happen while I was gone?"

Sarah licked her lip. His tone changed, and she got the feeling that the question was rhetorical. He knew she was bothered —and not from fatigue.

"I guess...I forgot that you can still go back like it's nothing. Knowing that you were up there all day while I'm stuck here...is bugging me."

Jareth, with his arms still fixed around her, pulled back to look up. She met his gaze readily, doing nothing to hold back her frown. The little tick about his eyes implied that he was surprised. She, too, was surprised when he readily said,

"Forgive me, then." and a frown of his own showed through. "I wasn't considering that." He lowered his head again and held her tighter, his hands moving around her ribs because of it. "It seems my excitement got away from me."

Sarah blinked, disconcertion twisting her brow. She wanted to touch him again, but the hand still laying over his shoulder curled back against it.

"You're...excited?" she asked.

That word. The notion alone roused just one butterfly in her stomach. It was an odd reaction, she thought. She was still bothered. And yet…

Jareth, with a faint huff, grinned to himself as he held her.

"Surprising, I know. But, yes. I am."

The peacefulness of that statement touched her dead in the chest, and she felt her scowl fading. It was so quiet in the room. The way they spoke was softened to match. He felt so content to kneel before her on the floor. Her fingers...twitched against the desire to reach up and pet him again.

"Why did you go?" she asked.

Jareth pulled away ever so slightly, just enough to turn his head and speak into her nightgown just below her navel.

"To get your doctor."

Sarah twitched in surprise.

"What?"

Jareth pulled back even more, loosening his hold to better look up at her. Despite her wriggled brow, his expression was candid.

"Do you not think you need one?" he asked, though she couldn't tell if he was teasing.

"Well, yeah, but...from the Aboveground?" and then her lip curled on a wince. "I assumed...you'd have a slew of royal healers or something…"

Jareth's pleasantly neutral expression took on something stony as one of his brows sharply arched.

"You think that, after what I told you, I would let a physician of this world anywhere even remotely near you?"

There was an edge in his eyes. Sarah saw it form in real time. Her twisted up expression fell to a little frown. He did not wait for her to offer some sympathetic response, however, looking away instead while a nasty smirk twitched one corner of his mouth.

"Magic has...provided much for the people of this world. Because of its capabilities, I suppose there is this illusion that we are somehow more advanced as a society than the Aboveground," he said, managing to toss around an expressive hand while still holding onto her. "The truth is, however, that we are not. Magic has made us content, and we lack ambition because of it. There is good to this. Because nothing changes, this world is allowed to exist in permanence. But...that also comes at a cost. As far as the sciences…our knowledge and practice of such is disturbingly absent." Sarah watched him attentively, her hands gradually lowering back to the bed. And then Jareth paused —a thought darkening his gaze. "I'll not have that kind of ignorance take you from me."

He looked up and caught her eye, and the sentiment conveyed there was intense. Sarah tried not to frown, somewhat humbled by the way she understood him.

"Okay," she said, without fuss. Her fingers, despite their ambivalence, reached up to pluck at his sleeves as she glanced to the side. "You were gone all day, though. Did...you find a doctor?"

Jareth's steely countenance warmed with a grin as he gazed up at her.

"Yes."

She could practically hear his smile while he said that. Sarah shifted her attention back to him, though her brow only drew together nervously.

"How...how did that go?" she asked with a scowl. "I'm...confused. How exactly did you go about finding this person? Did you just...unload the existence of another dimension on them and then they just happily agreed? Did you...coerce them?"

Her look of puzzlement worsened when he chuckled at her.

"I have his current address on file, actually," he said. Sarah's expression turned comically alarmed. "To answer your other two questions: neither. The man I saw today is actually a native of this world, and an asset of mine. One that...I didn't think would ever come in so handy."

Sarah's brow just kept getting puzzlier and puzzlier.

"I don't understand."

Jareth, like a fat cat readying for a nap, re-situated his arms and laid back down on her lap.

"I was summoned for a Council panel a few decades ago," he said leisurely. "Those typically happen when someone is petitioning for special licensing or privileges. The man presented was a young physician. He was of the lower nobility, so he didn't have the natural authority to travel between worlds. He requested a permit to travel to the Above and further his medical studies."

He explained that with a brevity that implied she would not have a million questions to ask afterward. As it was, Sarah couldn't decided which to ask first, so she ended up only validating that pleasant nonchalance by dumbly replying,

"...oh."

"He made a strong case, essentially saying everything that I just did," Jareth went on. "He believes the knowledge possessed in the Above can benefit the people here. Given my...dislike of our current approach to such things, I approved his request." He paused and peered up, looking totally frank when he said, "His name is Andeas. Although right now he's going by Johnathan Andrews for whatever reason. He'll be joining us here in a couple of days."

Sarah, with her head angled downward to face him, blinked.

"And...he just agreed to drop his studies and come back here to be my personal OB?"

Jareth arched a brow.

"You say that as if there was any other option." There was amusement inflected into that statement. Just a touch. Sarah, however, was less than affected —so the playfulness fled. "I'm a king, Sarah," he said, and gave her an eye. "—And you are a queen. Surely you've noticed that our requests are never requests." She frowned in displeasure, but Jareth was hardly swayed. He merely looked away while giving in to rest his cheek on her thigh. "The rest of the Council denied him. I alone have been funding his stay in the Above. After thirty some-odd years, I think I'm owed a few months in return."

He fell silent for a moment, but contentedly so. Sarah, meanwhile, was still frowning. She was surprised by what he'd just said, and by the fact that he...didn't even seem to realize it himself.

He was watching one of his hands toy with the folds of her nightgown when he distractedly added, "It's a bit of serendipity, I suppose. I had no particular desire to remarry at that time, let alone a human born Above. I know enough to know that our physiologies are different, so... to have an Underground native with a specialization in Aboveground medicine caring for you? I don't know of a better option."

Sarah stared through him as he spoke. There was an ease about him which she couldn't match. Every new word he said just made her more and more contemplative. Her negative feelings from earlier faded away to nothing as she came to realize that it wasn't his excitement that made him leave so abruptly, and disregard her potential misgivings —it was his worry. His integral fear of repeating the past. He said he had no time to waste. He did not know of a better option. He wasn't rubbing his freedom in her face, but rather...was just concerned for her.

She was deeply affected by how much she'd learned about him in the last twenty-fours, much more than she was sure he was even aware of.

Her hands went to his and stilled them at her sides, clasping them gently.

"You know...I never would have known that about you if you didn't just tell me," she said. Jareth peered up.

"Know what?"

"How much you care."

She knew he was angry about the way Aurelia died, even before last night. And she'd known there were certain parts of his culture that he looked down on. But...to go out of his way and take active measures to change that world for the better? That was not the Goblin King she'd faced on the track the night of her birthday. That was not the Goblin King who bullied her into marriage, and tormented her into sex. She never would have believed there was any more to him back then. Anything more than anger and selfishness and ego. And yet...they were the same person. These thoughts and actions existed in him even then. She wanted to ask how a person could be so clouded, yet she already knew. She'd come to know every detail of that mask that he —at times— would still wear so effortlessly. And...she knew why he wore it, why he'd needed to. But...not with her, she told herself. He'd never needed it with her at all.

She took a moment to lament for her past self —for the both of them, even. If he had simply been...who he actually was...then how different would it all have been? Would the present be the same? Would their feelings towards one another...still have the same depth?

Or...was the bond she felt only there because of the ugliness? Was it only real because, as he'd once said, she knew the worst of him and endured? Dark musings, those were and...no, those were not questions she was prepared to answer right now, or ever. Best to move on before it took root...

"You're too good at playing the scoundrel," she said and glanced away. "Acting like you're this big bad monster who just doesn't care about anything. And...yes, you can be. But.." and she nibbled on her lip. "You don't have to. You don't need to be." He watched the edge of her brow turn down, forming a look of disappointment as she stared out at nothing. "It makes me sad...because I don't think I ever would have suspected you to have done something so...what's the word...philanthropic? But...the more I'm with you, the more I see that you do care about things. You care a lot." and she looked down straight at him. "...I like getting to know that side of you."

Jareth's expression...hardened as he stared at her. Now he was the one who looked bothered. In a show of ambivalence, a scowl formed on his brow and he blinked while looking away. A defensive kind of smirk cracked through that countenance, and then he huffed.

Sarah frowned again. If he was perhaps feeling bashful, she thought, then that was a really pitiable display of it.

"I didn't realize I'd said something so insightful," he said facetiously. Sarah, still holding his hands, twitched when he then pulled them away. He was backing away from her now. She didn't want that— "But, on the note of me caring…"

He mumbled with a quirked brow, glancing down at the floor like something was waiting there. Sarah leaned forward to get a better look.

"What are you doing?" she asked just as he held up a box she was certain had not been there two seconds prior. Jareth's smirk regained its usual coyishness as he offered it out to her.

"I've brought you a gift," he said, and the instant memory that distinct enunciation brought back went immediately ignored.

She looked from him, to the box on her lap, and back again warily, hesitating before opening. Jareth had...never actually given her a present before, had he? Not ceremoniously wrapped at the least. Her fingers pinched together before opening it, sliding off the lid and setting it down on the bed beside her.

Her head cocked when she saw what was inside. For a moment she was….befuddled?

"You...got me a calendar?" she asked, and carefully took it in hand.

Jareth eyed her reaction carefully.

"It's what you've been asking for, is it not?" he asked. Sarah peered over at him. "Wire bound and glossy-finished —as requested."

Sarah blinked, her tightly knitted brow perhaps not the most reliable expression of her feelings. Truthfully, she was just caught off guard. This...mundane thing...was the last thing she'd expected from him.

Her attention flickered off of him and went back to the calendar. There was a print of some city nightscape on the cover. She opened it and flipped through a few of the pages, her eyes narrowing quizzically.

What surprised her more than anything was the feel. This was...actually made in her world, wasn't it? Processed, manufactured goods...it all seemed so foreign to her now.

"Did...you pick this out yourself?" she asked, trying her best to envision Jareth at a kiosk, or a drug store, or anywhere really. She had a wide, baffled look about her when Jareth silently nodded. And then she asked, "Why this one?"

"It shows...a variety of Aboveground places. Famous ones, I assume. I thought...you could tell me about them." A twinge of insecurity showed in his manner just then, something that was both confirmed and crushed simultaneously when he slanted his eyes to the side and deflected by adding, "I'm sure your maid would also enjoy the recount."

And now she was truly, truly stumped. Jareth had...put thought into this? Really sweet, wholesome thought? She would have been happy with something scratched together by a goblin (so long as the dates were correct), so this caught her unawares in a stupidly impactful way. Jareth never asked about her life in the Above. They'd had a real conversation about it only once, and it was awkward and painful. He'd said he thought talking about it would upset her, that it was better to just forget. So she saw this little act as an attempt to meet her halfway. To try and actually move forward together. That alone...meant so much to her.

Sarah bit the inside of her lip as she stared down, fighting back any telling reaction.

"Maids," she corrected, then peered over the binding at him. "Amara arrived today." She licked her lips when she looked away again, gripping the edges of the book tightly as she smiled. "Thank you. This means a lot to me."

He thought she sounded happy. It was hard to tell, given her wry expression. He decided to take the victory, however, and watched her silently. Her eyes continued to scan the pages, taking her time in looking over each one.

"You know….I've never even been to any of these places…" she mumbled.

Jareth stared up at her fondly.

"Not yet," he said, and softly grinned. "One day, perhaps."

Sarah's fingers curled against the paper.

"Do you...still think that's possible?" she asked.

Jareth looked down, losing his focus somewhere in the fabric that obscured her thighs from him. It was so soft. And she smelled...so sweet.

Distractedly, he laid his head back down and grasped her lightly by the hips.

"...it is possible," he murmured. "I just...have to figure it out."

Sarah was staring at an image of the Eiffel Tower when she felt her frown return.

"About that...there's something else that was bothering me today. I wanted to ask you about it," she said, and lowered the calendar a fraction. "It was something Amara said…"

"And what did Amara say?" Jareth responded.

"She…" and she paused only briefly. "...said that the Underground can't keep me here. That...what you said is wrong. She said that...it's actually the Labyrinth's magic that won't let me go."

Jareth's ears tensed on reflex, but he did well not to show any other reaction. He opened his eyes and stared across the room, panic fleeting as a lifetime of practice forced composure unto him.

"The young lordess is quite smart, isn't she?" he countered.

Sarah lowered the calendar and set it in its box on the bed.

"So...it's true? She was right?" she asked skeptically. Jareth didn't respond. "Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?"

Jareth closed his eyes again. It was ironic, but being in such dangerous waters had him feeling surprisingly...adrift. A part of him just didn't care anymore.

"If you'll remember, tensions were running rather high during that particular conversation," he said dryly. Sarah pursed her lips, thinking back to their blowout back in Sulu. "...I wasn't thinking about those kinds of specifics." His tone was dismissive, maybe even a little stern. Sarah wasn't sure how to interpret it. "But...to be more accurate, I suppose...it's just a habit."

"What do you mean?"

"Speaking in omission."

Sarah pursed her lips. His forwardness in their conversation tonight was...somewhat new? The indifference in his speech was certainly noteworthy. He so often skated around her questions, omitting details or painting them poetically, as he just said. She couldn't help but wonder then if there was an actual reason for it. He was still drooping all over her. His knees had to be getting numb by now—

"The Labyrinth...is an Alvari totem left over from a lost age," she heard him say, and tuned back to the moment.

"Yeah...Amara said that too."

Jareth arched a brow, not that she could see it. He hadn't expected that frizzy country girl to have much substance, though he supposed he should objectively admire her for it. He wondered whether or not her and Sarah's future conversations were something he needed to worry about...

"I hope that, by now, I don't need to tell you that anything involving the Alvari is scrutinized," Jareth went on. "Any connection between them and my kingdom needs to be closely monitored. It was tense enough allowing them sanctuary here, but if the other council seats come to believe that the Labyrinth might still be active, it could sow dissent."

Sarah drew back and looked down. Did he...just confirm everything Amara had said?

"So...it is still active? And you knew about it? About this trial that it would put me through?"

That word, trial, on her sweet, ignorant lips made him cringe deep in his gut. It seemed the young Eines was very much educated. Dangerously so. But, despite his instinctive flares of anxiety, whatever she told Sarah clearly wasn't enough to awaken her. That was all that mattered. All he had to do was navigate the remainder of her questions back into obscurity.

"...I knew that it might be," he said, keeping cool. "The world at large, however, believes it is all but dead —if they believe anything at all." He turned then, pressing his face into her waist and savoring the scent. "I am also aware of the same tales and theories as your new maid. You should caution her." and then he looked up at her intently. "I hold the original Orpian throne. If rumor spreads that children's bed stories are not quite that, then the Council may come to think I'm building power to separate from them."

Sarah's eyes widened and she physically drew back. There. That was distracting.

"Wh-really?" she asked.

Jareth looked back down at her lap.

"The position of Goblin King has always been regarded with...caution," he said, searching for the right words. "There were those in the past, my own ancestors, who tried to use history as leverage to recreate the old empire. I have no interest in that. Let Orpia be split. All I want...is for the lands I do have to flourish."

His voice faded as if the thought was somber, though it wasn't obvious enough for Sarah to question.

"But...you knew the Labyrinth would respond to a challenge —and you put me through it. Why?"

"I said I knew it might," he corrected. Which was...kind of true. "The Labyrinth hasn't been challenged in millennia, and the Alvari are no longer in power. I thought...the notion of it was romantic —to have the very foundation of my kingdom judge the worthiness of its next queen. But...truthfully, I wasn't sure it would actually respond." Truthfully —yes. He was speaking truthfully, and yet...why did he feel so guilty? "You are not a fae, and neither did you challenge it with particular intent, so I was also aware that a romantic notion might be all it was. But...when it did respond, I realized I had no idea what was actually going to happen. I did my best to play against it and guide you along..."

This was good, right? He was telling her truth. He was giving her real details of his intentions and his deceit while still keeping her safe… So long as she didn't know what was given to her in the end...or what he'd wanted to take...he'd tell her all of it.

"Alvari creed or not," Jareth went on, feeling surprisingly liberated by this half-forthcoming. "—the Labyrinth did test you, and acknowledged the strength of your heart. You won because you were allowed to win, because you deserved to, and, as I now realize, it wouldn't have mattered what I did or how much I tried to interfere." He held her possessively and spoke into her nightgown, his hands tracing the gentle curve of her spine. "I told you this before...but I know you didn't understand me at the time. The fact that it won't let you go means that you belong here. That you're worthy. I, too, acknowledged that. Since the very beginning." She felt his lips brush against her when he paused. His eyes opened just slightly, but his focus was miles away. "You earned my admiration all over again when you set foot in this castle. You earned it tenfold."

He spoke sweetly to her and touched her even more so. Despite the romance coiling around her, she felt nothing but perturbed.

"So...the story among the goblins...about the Labyrinth having a spirit? Is that also true, then?"

Jareth kept silent for one long second.

"...the Labyrinth is made of magic..." he began...and then repurposed Liana's own words in the most despicable way possible. "But...it is like a limb. It simply...acts on reflex."

He could feel her frown looming above him.

"Oh," she quietly murmured. "I guess that's why it took me away that day, huh? Because I belong."

That final word tapered and made the following silence uneasy. As Sarah frowned, she couldn't help but think what a prime opportunity the whole herdsman ordeal would have been for Jareth to come forth and tell her all this himself. She wasn't sure why he didn't. Maybe...he just didn't think it mattered.

"Yes," he responded, just as quietly.

Sarah continued to pout as she pondered.

"You...really think I'm worthy?" she asked, reluctant to believe any of it. "Even after...what I did in Yore?" Her posture stiffened as she spoke. Jareth, more attentive, leaned up to face her. She turned away from him before eye contact could be made, however, looking fretful all over again. "I realized earlier...that we never actually talked about that," she said, then peered over and gave him an anxious look. "Do...you maybe want to sit on the bed?"

His submissive pose was getting to her, apparently, though he thought nothing of it. She looked uncomfortable, her legs shifting beneath him as naked toes curled a centimeter above the floor. Was this actual displeasure, though? he wondered. Or...was she maybe feeling guilty over the issue?

Wouldn't that have been nice.

Jareth, disregarding her manner and labeling it as cute, sighed contentedly and nuzzled his face into the dip in the fabric covering her thighs. Talk of the Labyrinth was now concluded, it seemed. Hm. That wasn't as nerve-wracking as he thought it'd be.

"No. I'm comfortable here," he said. Sarah remained stiff. A couple awkward seconds passed until Jareth took it upon himself to push things along. "Braxton...was insufferable when he met Delphine," he began, angling his head to stare somewhere waywardly. "He traveled to meet with her often, and would draw on and on about her whenever I saw him. He was as smitten as I could ever describe, and she returned those feelings when he brought her back."

Sarah listened quietly. She was nervous about bringing this up, but...he seemed perfectly fine.

"He doted on her, and she was always kind and grateful and obedient. Perhaps you find fault with that, but...to me it seemed ideal," he went on with a little shrug. "I think her family died in a plague, so he was always paranoid over her health. He hovered, certainly, and it was annoying but...hardly outside his authority." He took a contemplative pause and shifted. Sarah, staring downward, caught his brow knitting in profile as he mulled over his next thought. "I believe it was her pheromones that caused him to escalate."

Sarah's brow twitched.

"What?"

"I last saw them over a year ago, and all was as it always had been. But...the pheromones a woman gives off while pregnant are...different."

His fingers might have twitched when he said that. Sarah...grew suspicious.

"Different how?" she asked.

"They have a very...severe effect on fae, on men in particular, and on mates especially."

Sarah pouted, stopping herself from saying that she was starting to figure that out on her own already.

"It is a means of defense," Jareth said. "What I told you last night is not a phenomenon exclusive to a woman's labor. Those scents exist in various stages throughout a pregnancy, and incite a biological drive in surrounding individuals...to protect...to care for...to satisfy. I think...her scents probably made his compulsive tendencies worse." and she watched him frown in honest disappointment. "He...really does believe he's doing what's best for her, and that she is happy for him to do so."

His jaw tightened as he thought that over, and it was an expression that Sarah was thankful that he could make. Clearly, the irony of that statement was not lost on either of them. The break that followed was weighted heavily by introspection, and then he spoke again.

"Despite your opinion, keeping her on a leash is not considered an injustice," he said plainly. Sarah was about to scowl— "But...preventing her from caring for her own child, is."

Knowing full well the look she was giving him, he gave in to the urge all the same and turned his head up to face her. If he had to guess, he'd say her teeth were grinding.

"Then why is he getting away with it?" she asked.

"Because only Delphine can file such charges." Again, he spoke readily and frankly. Sarah did her best to reflect that maturity, and bit back several colorful grievances. "And I think you know as well as I that she won't."

Sarah locked her jaw and looked away, fighting back her words but not her twisted face as she glared. This was stupid. So stupid—

"I know you want to help, but she needs to take action herself," Jareth said sternly. "That is the law."

Sarah took a minute to stew, even crossing her arms despite the lack of personal space he gave her. When she was ready, she asked,

"Then...what can I do?"

"You can use your position to your advantage, work strategically like everyone else in court, and use his delusion against him."

Sarah's eyes narrowed as she slowly turned back to him. That was...not what she was expecting to hear.

"...how?"

"Firstly, I'll write a letter of apology for you," he said, and nearly huffed at the way she had the gall to look aghast in response. His look on her grew more stern. "You're welcome to write a draft yourself, but I doubt anything you feel is worth saying will be sufficient. You need to swallow your pride, Sarah. Bow your head and say you were wrong."

And now he was lecturing her. Deep down, she knew he was right, but...damn, did it irritate her.

"What did you tell him? When you were alone after Marie took me away?"

If she was trying to lead him into an argument, it was —for the first time— unintentional. She stared at him just as firmly, her feelings genuine enough to be felt through her pheromones...

"I said exactly what you think I did," Jareth answered without remorse. "I apologized and made stupid, though not untrue, excuses: you're young. You're inexperienced. You're passionate. You're still learning. I reiterated that you must have misunderstood your lessons and thought you were doing right by Delphine, that you did not mean to offend him."

Sarah brooded, sounding both petulant and tentative when she asked,

"...how did he respond?"

A little edge creased Jareth's eyes.

"He laughed," he said deadpan. "He said seeing me unfettered like that was hysterical and he felt sorry that I'd chosen a wife as wild as you —though he expected nothing less. He told me I must have enough to deal with at home —to which I did not disagree— and to thus think nothing of it. We smiled at each other, and then he wished me luck in dispensing your punishment —to which I thanked him."

Oh. That was not a fun story to tell. Not for Sarah, and certainly not for Jareth. His tone took on that sarcastic nastiness she so loathed, and he stared her intently in the eye all the way through. Her natural instinct was to get angry right back, but the rational part of her told her, loudly, that what he was mad about was having to put on such airs in the first place.

"On that note, I would appreciate it if you would at least pretend to be repentant," he went on, not missing a beat. "If ever the topic should come up —and it will— you will make up some thoroughly believable recount of the entirely appropriate and appreciated punishment you received."

This time Sarah's mouth actually dropped open. She even gasped a little.

"What—are you kidding me?"

"No. I am not kidding you," Jareth said deridingly —and then seemed to regret it. He bit the inside of his cheek as he glared at her, letting that flare of agitation fade before continuing. "I made you a promise," he went on, more calmly. "—and I intend to keep it. But, you need to acknowledge the way power is weighed in this world. If my strength is questioned by my treatment of you, then both our safety and the stability of this kingdom could be put in jeopardy."

The parental tone he executed so well was there in full force, having its effect and rendering her small and bitterly silent. God, she hated his lecturing. She hated it more when he was right.

"Secondly...you need to understand the gravity of what you did, Sarah." and he sighed through his nose as if exasperated. "You publicly accused a king of maltreating his wife, his queen, the mother of his heir. Such an allegation...is considered one of the highest offenses possible and, if presented to the Council, could result in Braxton losing his throne...or even his life."

Sarah drew back.

"What? Really?"

"And...you're not wrong," he continued, mumbling in thought as if she hadn't spoken. "By both your standards and ours, Braxton is committing high treason against Delphine. I admit, there are many ways of bending the rules, but...keeping a child from its biological mother and giving it to another wife…" and she watched his eyes close heavily. "That is unspeakable."

Sarah stared, speechless, beside herself to believe that her righteousness and an Underground law were actually in accordance, that Jareth wasn't just humoring her when he spoke so emphatically the night before—

"I realize now that is why his courtiers and staff were so tense," Jareth said, looking low and to the side as he mused. "I doubt they have any idea how to navigate that situation. To indulge that delusion is compliance, but to refuse him risks their own lives."

Silence fell heavy after that. Sarah used that minute to sort through her feelings.

"I think...dethroning him is a bit extreme," she eventually said, trying to put reason above her outrage. Jareth glanced up at her.

"I'm glad you agree. Aside from this, he is considered a good leader much beloved by his people."

And then she clicked her teeth.

"With that said...I can't just forsake Delphine like that."

Jareth arched a brow.

"You don't have to," he said. Sarah looked at him with surprise. "But —contrary to your usual nature, my wild, passionate, young, inexperienced, still-has-much-to-learn darling— you do tend to catch more flies with honey, as they say."

Sarah's eyes narrowed, showing a Goblin Queen level of generosity by letting him have that quip. Mockery aside, he did have a point.

"...decorum it is then," she said, clipped.

Pride compelled her to keep her chin high when she looked away, still stewing but otherwise calm. A few seconds passed, and then she asked, with some anxiety, "How...bad is it right now? How much trouble am I really in...objectively?"

Jareth, suffering a loss of pheromonal buzz from all this serious talk, sighed as he dropped down to her lap and lost himself there.

"Thankfully there are several factors working in your favor," he murmured. Sarah squirmed. "In addition to being the aforementioned, you are also a foreigner in this land. You are new to your position. Braxton is my friend who has a deep fondness for humans, and, most importantly…" and she found that next pause curious. "...you're pregnant."

That word felt heavy. She wasn't entirely sure why. Jareth had his arms wrapped all around her, had wedged himself between her knees and was, presumably, staring vacantly at her navel. His attention on her was palpable. She could feel the heat of his breath through her clothes, and...suffered the severely delayed realization that all of his clinginess, forwardness, and general good temper was because of her.

Pregnancy pheromones have a severe effect, on men in particular, and on mates especially.

Oh.

"You'll find the majority of your actions overlooked simply for that reason," Jareth said, pulling her from epiphany back into serious conversation. "It is considered a sacred time, and —like I told you last night— it's thought healthy for women to be...unencumbered in their expression. With that said, what happened yesterday cannot happen again, for your own sake and for this kingdom. You must err on the side of propriety."

"...and if I don't?" she asked.

"There has not been war in Orpia in many generations. I would hate to be the one to break that record."

That...was a joke, right? He was just being loopy? Pheromonally compelled to protect? Sarah tried to push him away from her, but he wouldn't budge.

"You would really go to war over something I do?" she asked, dubious.

Jareth drew back with a scowl.

"As opposed to what?" he countered.

Sarah blinked.

"Um, well…"

"You know there is no divorce," he said. Sarah bobbed her head.

"Yeah, but...I could always be executed, couldn't I? If I do something really bad? Be sacrificed to save the kingdom from scandal?"

Thoughts of Anne Boleyn and other such unfortunate dames came to mind. She was more or less musing out loud, however, (now more distracted with the root cause of Jareth's odd behavior than anything) so was caught off guard when he curtly asked her,

"Is that a joke?"

Oops. He sounded offended —and he looked a little mad too. Sarah backtracked and averted her eyes.

"I mean...I don't think you would ever have me executed..." she said, little to her aid. "But, if that's what the rest of the Council wanted…"

Jareth huffed.

"Is that the extent of the faith I've earned from you?"

Sarah paused and peered down at him guardedly.

"No... I was just…"

"Furthermore, you think that my culture would allow a woman, a queen, one who has carried children, to be executed under any circumstances?"

Well now she just shut right up. Way to make her feel stupid...

"I told you before that once we were married, you would own me," Jareth said firmly. "That your actions would have far different consequences. This is what I meant. You are my wife. I swore to the druid to protect you and stand by you, always. Whatever your offenses...they become mine too. If anyone were to be executed for your poor judgement, it would be me."

Sarah rolled her lower lip over her teeth, her gaze trying its best to meander away from the intensity of his.

"Oh. I...didn't realize that. That's...a pretty big risk to take," she said with an awkward shrug.

"It is," Jareth affirmed, then reached up and pinched her chin. He leaned up and turned her face back towards him, staring at her intently as he said, "—and it means nothing. You are simply that important." and then the muscle in his jaw flexed. "...to me."

The way he caught himself while saying that made her think it had been impulsive, and the way his eyes darted around her face, but not away, only confirmed it. He looked...transfixed on her, and was surprised by it. Sarah felt her teeth clench as she stared at him, now so close as he held that princely pose. Her epiphany came back through the spark she felt at his thumb on her chin, and betrayed her utterly. The idea that her smell was having a visceral effect on him, distracting him, making him impulsive and honest despite himself, was...well…

Best not to label those conniving feelings right now.

Jareth did his best to play off that compromising moment as dispassionately as possible, releasing her chin and turning his head clear away as he moved back from her face. A part of him chastised that show of ambivalence, however, and told him to get a hold of himself. She was hardly the first pregnant woman he'd been in close proximity with, and the way his control kept slipping was downright juvenile. Another part, however, told him pride was for the bores, and begged him to indulge.

It'd just been a long time since he was around such a smell. He simply needed to acclimate, he told himself. He would get used to it soon...or so he pretended.

"We'll be seeing them again in a couple of months…" he muttered, trying to deflect. "—at the canal opening. You'll have till then to figure out how to redeem yourself and help her...subtly."

Sarah stared at him without blinking. He was obviously trying to dismiss what had just happened, but now a weird and totally inappropriate heat was building in her cheeks. There was something about him just now...flustered...boyish...it caught her in the most dangerous way possible. Jareth was hardly ever bashful or reluctant about his attraction towards her…

She could feel her tongue wetting her lips as her knees fidgeted against his ribs.

"...okay," she murmured, so lightly.

Sarah knew, from highly specific instances in the past, that having a Jareth who just could not help himself at her mercy did incredibly violent things to her. To see him in an eager or submissive light...It made her wanton and aggressive. It emboldened her in a way that felt out of body. And, if his struggle to physically monitor himself right now wasn't provoking enough, she also had the delectable knowledge of biological incitement. Oh. How animalistic of him. What a primitive creature —to be so powerful and yet so easily swayed by the effortless guile of woman. But, no. Not any women. Just her. He was hers. And he was on his knees. And he was holding her. He was like a puppy waiting to be petted—

No. Scratch that. Even at his most compromised, Jareth could never be compared to a puppy. A wolf lying in wait, was more like it.

And, my, oh my —was that analogy not even more tempting?

Sarah looked away from him. She had to. All that lewdness now ramming around in her brain and in other (lower) places, had been prompted by a single, flighty look. It made her question if she was reading too much into it, and, more importantly, why the hell her libido had been triggered so stringently. They were still talking politics, after all —and here she was with her impenitent head plummeting down the gutter.

Must be hormones, she told herself. Yupp. Gotta be.

"So, um...you said pregnancy pheromones affect mates more acutely?" she asked with a slight, yet discernable, inflection of intrigue.

Jareth picked up on it readily, dismissing his self-admonishment in a flash, and focused on her instead.

"I did."

His tone was aloof. Decidedly so. It put Sarah on edge and made her consider her next words carefully. She dared to look down at him again, rolling her lip over her teeth and back again while raising her hand as if to touch him—

"Does that mean that mine…" and the potential energy in her suspended hand brimmed. "...are affecting you...right now?"

The tips of her fingers grazed along a lock of his hair, the touch just enough to be felt by both of them.

Jareth's posture shifted. Not physically, but rather in its intention. His arms wrapped around her took on a possessive quality, and his ear, pressed so lightly to her thigh, focused on the subtle rhythm of her pulse. Her question sounded shy, but he had no doubt about the ferity he'd find in her eyes if he looked up at her.

Oh. What cunning. His songbird was turning back into the minx.

"It does," he answered, darkly.

Sarah gulped.

"...how?"

Her tentative fingers, repeating their petting motion, shifted more directly the second time. They sank into his hair and ran along his scalp. Alone, it was a gesture totally innocent. He knew better, however, by the way that bolder contact sparked a change in her smell —and oh, how it bloomed.

A sly grin spread across Jareth's face as he turned his nose inward towards her groin.

"How?" he repeated, then curled his hands into the fabric of her nightgown at her back. "Don't be coy. You know very well how…"

That final word radiated into her belly. She could feel the force of the breath that carried it vibrating against her skin. The aura about the room seemed to have changed dramatically all of a sudden, and it had her sitting straight with anticipation. Words like wolves and ravage came to her mind. They made her knees shift beneath him.

"...will you tell me anyway?" she asked, keeping her voice subdued. She heard him make a noise, not quite a murmur, or an exhale, but something in between. His grip on her tightened too. She watched his shoulders hunch from the motion, bringing him in even closer, and she knew from the time he took to respond that...it was working.

"I...wasn't being dramatic for the mere sake of it last night," he said, and inhaled deeply while his hands splayed and moved higher up her back. "I need to be near you."

He rubbed his forehead against her stomach, breathed out slowly, and then even more slowly savored the next inhale. His mannerisms were changing in a way that she recognized. In a way that she was hoping for—

Her mouth was suddenly dry. She licked both her lips and ran her hands over his shoulders.

"Oh. And...is that why you…?"

"Why I what?"

She tilted her head and watched her hands draw patterns over his back. She was more aware of the way her heart thumped now. Not quick, but hard. She wondered how long she could draw this out.

"Why you've been so...agreeable…" she said.

She watched him carefully now, curious if she had enough control over her pheromones to derail him from casual conversation. She could not sense herself, after all. But...given the way he ignored the way his own knees shifted in a manner that she would consider restless was a pretty clear indicator that she was indeed having an effect.

Jareth turned his head down and huffed into her skirt.

"You think your smell is curbing my temper?" he asked, amused —then felt his eyelids weigh down with something potent. "Well...I suppose you're right…"

His voice took on a kind of drawl at the end. Sarah nursed the knot as it twisted in her belly, and ran her hand a bit more suggestively through his hair.

"You've also been...more open with me. Today and...last night."

Her fingers combed all the way to the ends of his hair, and she watched as those long blond tendrils fell lightly onto his back. He had such pretty hair. It was also so sleek and soft—

"Ah. You noticed that, did you?" he asked, his smile a bit self-deprecating. She heard him make a little huff, then felt his fingers toying with the ends of her own hair falling at her mid-back. "I am certainly become more effusive. Although...I'd be ashamed if I said that was all due to your new wiles." He was content in saying that, half dazed by the wiles in question, but still felt a twitch in his brow when another little flare changed in her scent. He didn't understand it right away, so narrowed his eyes quizzically when he asked, "You're relieved?"

The way her body tensed was a sign that the observation surprised her —let alone the subsequent shift in scent.

"Yes…" she said, and looked down on him. "You can sense that?"

She sounded alarmed. Indeed, she had the right to be. Knowing her from the inside out had ruined them in the beginning. —he would do better this time around.

"I can sense everything about you right now," he said, closing his eyes and pulling her closer towards the edge of the bed. Her legs had to spread farther apart to accommodate him. She pretended only she was aware of this. "You have me in tethers—" and he stopped himself from nipping on her nightgown just in time. "—you wild, passionate thing. But, in return, I can read you like an open book."

Sarah swallowed, her eyes wide as she tried to fathom the true depth of that connection and, more pertinently, how it could be used to her advantage. So, because she wasn't holding back anymore, he could sense her feelings, yes? He'd certainly put her through hell with that in the past, but...now she knew how to fuck with him right back.

"Tethers…" she murmured, that one, delicious word bringing with it so many wicked possibilities...

She was pulled from her daydreams by the sound of Jareth chuckling into her lap.

"Does the image excite you?" he asked, and she went red in embarrassment. Her whole body seized for a split second, but he was quick to sooth that bashfulness away. He lowered his hands to the bed, supporting himself as he leaned and trailed his nose languidly up her front. "Careful with your urges, my love," and he lightly nipped at the white linen that covered her breast. "They will undo me..." and then those nips trailed upward along her neckline. "And they will undo me again…and again...and again…"

Sarah held her breath. His mouth, with those slow heated words, was hovering over the crook of her neck. One of his knees had pressed into the edge of the bed between her thighs as he leaned. She was sitting stiffly, leaning back away from him to avoid actual contact.

And yet, despite this act of recoil, he knew that she was not adverse to it. No, she was just savoring the build up.

Hm. And the minx became a vixen.

"...are you going to be like this the whole pregnancy?" she asked, still determined to push his limits.

"Like what?" he asked, those sly lips of his sparking against her neck —just barely— as he lowered back to his original position on the floor.

"...affectionate...gentle..." she said.

Nerves seeped into those words. It delighted him. The way her scent tingled the air because of it, delighted him. But, oh, to live in such hedonism would surely break him. All things in moderation, as they said.

Alas, that had absolutely no bearing in the now.

"Affectionate?" he repeated, lowering his hands to the floor to shrewdly wrap around her ankles. "Yes. But gentle?" and then his hands wound circles up her calves "...I don't think you would be satisfied with gentle."

He kissed her lightly over the folds of fabric covering her inner thigh, close to her groin. The anticipation of it made her want to squirm. Jareth sensed it all the same, and smiled into the cloth.

"And I do so wish to satisfy…"

Having no better way to curb her appetite, Sarah gulped once again. She wanted to shift her feet, but doing so now would directly confirm the effect he was having. She was trying to manipulate him, and he knew it, and he was letting it happen, but...as she now and for the first time asked herself, was she prepared to handle those consequences?

"Should I be worried?" she asked, playing it cool. "If you think that smell amplified Bryce's bad tendencies, then…"

Jareth paused and went rigid —she could tell by the grip he had on her ankles.

"I am not Bryce," he said, steeled. Sarah looked down with a frown. He recovered quickly from his passion, however, and mulled her question over more seriously as his tender caress of her legs resumed. "I...will not be," he said more softly. "If anything, what you need fear from me is an excess of fervor…"

Sarah, watching him keenly, faintly smiled despite herself. She recognized a conviction in those statements that she'd come to know could be trusted. If nothing else, he had yet to break his word.

"You've seemed pretty relaxed to me," she said, testing him with more light finger-touches.

Jareth grinned and laughed, low and in the back of his throat.

"Have I?" he asked, as if genuinely amused. "Pardon the confusion, then. But, whatever you think this languor means…" and she sat perfectly still as his hands slowly bunched the skirt of her nightgown up and over her knees. "—I have been feeling the opposite of relaxed."

She felt his gloved hand rub over her knee, and watched as he stared distractedly at his thumb as it stroked the flesh of her inner thigh. She locked her jaw when he leaned in and kissed her there, his lips warm and lingering on her skin. This time, she did not stop herself from fidgeting, the flexing of her legs making him pause...and then he kissed her again.

She took quiet breaths and kept her legs wide while he kissed along her thigh. His hands, encased in black leather, pressed into each one —not to hold them apart. No, that was unnecessary. He gripped them simply to feel.

That knot building in her stomach wound up into her chest, and now each tempered exhale was getting hotter and hotter. She stared down at him searingly, waiting, envisioning, provoking—

"You've gotten very quiet," Jareth said, keeping his eyes closed and his tone cool as he kissed one little spot then another. "...are you alright?"

Sarah swallowed and gripped the comforter.

"Mhm."

She kept herself tense, and focused on her expression, refusing to allow him to take the upper hand from her that easily. Seduce her with accents and touches would he? She'd compel him in return.

Jareth visibly paused, his brow creasing as if something all of the sudden had burrowed into his ear.

"You are...having your way with me, aren't you?" he asked, his voice turning husky. Sarah bit her nip, pleased and aroused and eager and —heh, what an avid little tyrant she was.

Jareth grinned as he turned and kissed higher up her thigh.

"That's not very nice…" he mumbled, his breath dangerously close against the tendon at her groin. His hands moved, feeling firmly along her legs, spreading them wider. "Mm…" he whispered, and flicked his tongue out against her skin. "Tell me...what you want."

Her breaths wavered in the effort to remain silent. She could feel it in her chest, feel the tension in her knees wanting to squeeze together and push him forward. Alas, they did not. She kept perfectly still.

"...kiss me again," she said, near under her breath.

Jareth's hands roamed down to hold her by the ankles again.

"Where?" he asked.

Sarah's toes curled.

"...higher."

A roguish grin twitched on Jareth's lips, but he did as she bid. His hands moved back up her legs, holding her at the knees as he angled his head and kissed just under the hem of her skirt.

Sarah let out a shuddering breath and squirmed. He was so close. She could feel a discomfort building in her cunt, an impatience to be touched. Her muscles flexed, but it only reminded her of the emptiness. That feeling peaked when she watched him move in, breathe hot air over her sex, and then turn to kiss the base of her other thigh.

She almost whimpered, and was glad she didn't. She was still focusing on seducing him with her smell. Every little move was a power play.

He kissed along the hem of her underwear, letting his nose graze over her covered sex as he took turns between the two sides.

The light contact against her sensitive skin bordered on ticklish. It was enough to make her fidget, but not pull away.

Jareth paused and stared vacantly at the shadows covering her groin. Her scent had become thick, viscous in a way that was not even possible. His eyes felt heavy as he endured it, as he let it have him. It was such a rare kind of liberation. He closed his eyes as he put his mouth directly over cleft.

She moaned. Of course she did. She was that on edge. He could sense it about her. He made a soft noose in the back of his throat and kissed her again, bracing her knees from moving together when the force of his mouth found her clit.

His tongue ran over the fabric covering her, feeling along the seam of her folds and pressing in. She arched towards him —a little churn of the hips. He kissed her again and again until the silk was sodden.

She gave in to the pleas on her tongue and made little noises, little whimpers and croons that softly begged for more. Jareth let out a deep exhale through his nose, reaching up under her skirt to curl his fingers around the hem of her underwear.

"Lay back," he told her, and she did.

He wrapped his hands around the back of her thighs and pulled her flush to the mattress's edge, then took hold of the delicate lace keeping her modest and carefully pulled it down.

She bent her legs to help him, and he watched with fixation the way her chest moved higher with anxious breaths.

His attention shifted to her cunt once she was bared, wet, and already open for him. He stared with building hunger as he took one of her legs and bent it, then placed a kiss to inside of her knee before anchoring her foot to the edge of the bed. He set her other foot to his shoulder, and took the time to remove his gloves before touching her again.

She was hotter when he drew near, her lower half tensed with expectation. He breathed across her skin, enjoying the way she squirmed trying to get closer.

He opened his mouth wide, but only traced along the exterior of her folds with the tip of his tongue.

Another whimper. This one, close to a moan. But, oh, how she was restraining herself. So greedy with her wantonness.

He kissed each of her lips, taking careful time to make sure the pleasure it gave her was absolutely agonizing.

Her sounds took on the grit of frustration. Pleased by it, he looked away from her twisted face and back at her slit. She would probably scoff if he told her how pretty she was. So soft and tight and sweet—

He was staring again, distracted by her taste and her feel and her scent rabidly telling him to fuck her. Unwittingly, his hand came to grasp her at the apex of her thigh, and he watched in a daze as his thumb reached out and spread her open. Her hips jerked in response. He could feel her wetness on his thumb.

"Do you like this?" he asked. She bit her lip and nodded.

"Mhm."

Jareth watched her with a ravenous gaze.

"Tell me...what you would like more."

His thumb spread her even farther as he said that, and the emptiness it amplified in her had her fighting the instinct to writhe. She was so sensitive. Her flesh felt swollen. Throbbing. She wanted to be touched. To be filled—

"I..I want you...to…"

"You're mumbling, darling," he interrupted, a bawdy upturn capturing her attention. "Speak clearly."

Sarah wetted her lips and swallowed, toes curling against the bed as he held her legs wide apart. He had her shameless. Exposed. The cool air of the room breezed across the wetness he'd left on her cleft, and it made her want to shiver. She had no idea if she was still manipulating him, and was close to no longer caring. Her hips arched towards him when she muttered, shyly,

"I want your tongue...inside."

Jareth grinned and lowered his eyes, keeping her on the precipice by extending his tongue and teasing her opening. He held her spread open with both hands now, and dipped his tongue in and out just an inch or so.

"Like this?" he asked. Sarah shook her head.

"D-deeper."

"Hm…"

She sucked in a sharp breath when Jareth inclined his head while dropping his jaw, and penetrated her as deeply as his tongue would go.

Her body froze in place, yielding to his grip as it curled around her thighs and held her there. His tongue moved slowly, fully, undulating in and out in mimic of what she hoped was to come.

And he made his own little noises. Sounds of enjoyment that vibrated against her cunt. She could hear his breath, too, and the wet sound of shameless kisses as he ate her thoroughly.

She was starting to moan now. Power play be damned—

"Is this what you want?" he asked, the words muffled into her.

"Yes."

His hands tightened around her thighs. Hers tightened into the bedsheets.

"Does it feel good when I fuck you like this?"

She churned her hips up into each of his licks. His thrusts. She still had a spot that yearned to be touched deep in her belly, but reaching it was hardly a need.

"Yes," she breathed, sweat starting to form on her brow.

"Are you going to come for me?"

And she clenched eyes tightly shut.

"Y-yes."

"Good," Jareth said, and pulled back to watch his thumb as he ran it over her slick opening "I want to taste it."

Her back arched when his finger slid in. He pushed to the knuckle, without warning, and slid back out just as deftly. He thrust it again, and again, and watched with hot eyes as she grew wetter and wetter, coating his knuckles and her beautiful pussy—

Her sudden moan egged him on, and then there were two fingers moving inside her. They curled to that spot. In that way that only he knew, and her mouth dropped open and stayed that way as she endured it.

He closed his eyes and sealed his mouth over her clit, pressing down and running soft circles around it with his tongue. Sarah moans grew louder, more aggressive, and her legs moved restlessly on either side of him. He allowed it now, however. He was too engrossed with making her come.

He added a third finger and sank knuckle deep, staying there to fuck her subtly inside. That quick, repetitive feeling made her belly twinge, and the sound of her breathing and her moans reflected his rhythm as she came ever closer to release.

His tongue became less delicate and flicked directly over her clit. It made her hips buck, but he held her down well with his free hand. All the while, he fingers coursed deep. She could feel those feelings reach their peak. Could feel them brim along the edge for one agonizing moment before boiling over on a wave so intense she actually screamed.

Jareth felt her muscles tighten around his hand, and thrust with determination. Her legs coiled around him. Her back bowed off the bed. Her abrupt scream and the scent it released made him moan. Made him collapse. Made him pull his hand away and press his mouth hard against her open cunt as it spasmed.

Her orgasm was thick on his tongue —like honey, and just as sweet. He swallowed it down and searched for more, delving into her with his tongue and eliciting sharp aftershocks of pleasure that had her flinching away from him. But, oh, whether or not she would regret it, her smell had its way and he held her down. He forced her though it, and he murmured and moaned and churned his hips against open air as his hardened cock flexed against his pants.

When he finally let go of her, she was breathless, her legs and her face near numb from stimulation. She lifted her head and stared down at him, and he peered over her to meet her gaze.

She was affected by the rawness of his stare. By the way both his eyes had dilated fully, and now held her in place by severity alone. He reached down and pulled his shirt up and off of himself, then crawled over her and onto the bed.

Words like wolf and ravage came back to her. Only now, she was excited for those consequences.

There was an unusual flush in his cheeks which, paired with his eyes, was a sign to her that even he was suffering a bit of over-stimulation. It'd been too dark in the library to see such details, and she'd been too caught up emotionally to spare the time. But now, under perfect light and a clear head, she could see the true extent of what she put him through. Of the tethers she held. And, as he stared down at her with the intensity of a man starved, she thought there could not be anything more empowering. She could not own him any more.

He leaned down and kissed her. He forced his tongue into her mouth and made it messy on purpose. He laid her own taste into her, and she received it with fervor. She licked the inside of his mouth and stole sharp breaths in between, clawing her hands into his hair and pulling him to fall to his elbows.

She was so lost in that kiss that she missed the calculation in his posture as his hands went down to her hips and then abruptly flipped her.

She gasped and fell onto her stomach, having just enough time to be surprised before he grabbed her by the hips again and pulled her sharply back to the edge of the bed.

He stood off of it and kept her bent over, bunching up her skirt to expose her ass while he leaned over her and whispered in her ear—

"You are an exquisite thing."

There was reverence in those words, felt low and rumbling along the crest of her ear. She could hear the sound of his pants being undone, and braced herself against the bed.

"I have lived for a long time," he went on, dropping to an elbow that caged one side of her. "—yet you pull from me so many firsts." He stroked his cock with his other hand, lengthening it and squeezing tightly at the end. She could feel the movement of it, feel the head touch the sensitive flesh of her sex in rhythmic, barely-there taps. It made her antsy. "Did you know…" and he pressed the head firmly against her, moving it in circles around her opening. "...laying with a pregnant woman is considered a religious rite, in some factions?"

Sarah tried not to come off too breathy when she replied.

"Oh? That's cool…"

She sucked in her lips and screwed her eyes shut, trying to focus on the way he was almost penetrating her. She could feel him spreading her. Feel her body open and throb in anticipation. But, every time something got close to feeling good, he would pull back and start over again.

"Mhm…" and he stared down at the head of his cock as he pushed in another inch. "To be chosen by one...is an honor."

Although he was speaking, it was hardly casual. His voice was rough and strained, and did everything it could to keep the words from breaking. Sarah, essentially ignoring him, pressed her face into the bed and tilted her ass up to meet his pelvis. The motion forced him to move deeper inside —which she took full advantage of by repeating the action. A flare of abandon must have hit him, for she got her way when he let go of his cock and fell forward —caging her with both arms instead. He planted his feet wider apart, and pressed his forehead to her spine while she teasingly fucked the first couple inches of his cock.

"And why are you telling me this now?" she asked, more worried about her own satisfaction than the number of notches in his belt.

"Because I thought—" and his voice broke with a pant. "—that surely, that, was the pinnacle of pleasure."

His forehead twisted against her back, and she could feel and hear the labor building in his breathing. She tried to inch herself back and take more of him in, but it was an unnecessary effort. One of his hands suddenly clamped down on the back of her shoulder, keeping her in place, as he bent at the knees and thrust himself deeper—

"What I find even more satisfying, however…" and he wrapped a hand up around her jaw, turning her face back to meet him. "...is the feeling you're giving me now."

Their eyes found each other with a burning heat, and he abruptly caught her in a rough kiss —awkwardly angled and without form. She recoiled from the discomfort but found nowhere to go, giving in almost immediately to reciprocate as well as she could.

When he pulled back, he looked her dead in the eye, and in his gaze she felt such command, and focus, and passion. She wasn't really sure what he was talking about. She was still only half paying attention. He was sinking himself half inside her now, giving her just enough to keep her from getting impatient.

"What...do you mean?" she asked, needing to pause in her speech when he slowly pushed in.

A wicked kind of grin ghosted across his face, before he lowered his brow to her shoulder and gripped both her arms tightly by the biceps.

"What do I mean?" he repeated, and she knew him well enough to take a sharp inhale of breath just before he uttered, in a low, salacious tenor, "This."

His hold pushed her harder into the mattress when he thrust fully inside. Sarah's neck arched back on a moan, but that was all she could really do. He had her pinned, her legs held wide apart by his knees and the strong, careful posture of his body over hers.

Jareth let out a gasp of pleasure before pulling out and thrusting in again. He was harder this time, reaching to her end, the force of which pushing her up the bed. Sarah's hands fisted the comforter in an effort to brace.

Jareth's large hands peeled away from her arms and covered her fists instead, curling together into fabric as he rolled his hips, then filled her slowly to the hilt.

This time he stopped. He did not move at all. He pressed the full length of his cock inside her, and let her feel every inch of it. This was somehow even more overwhelming for her, so she let out a breathy pant and looked ahead, her body trying to naturally straighten against the invasion. Jareth's weight, however, pressed into his chest over her shoulders, and kept her down. His fingers constricted around her fists, pulling them closer together as he moaned into her hair.

"To sink myself in you, and stretch you to your limits...to feel your skin heat under my touch, and hear those whimpers you make in the back of your throat…" He talked dirty into her hair, then pulled out, idled, and thrust back in again.

The rhythm he chose...was not particularly savage like she had expected. He moved slowly, deeply, enjoying her at his leisure with each full thrust. She supposed, however, that was where the real savagery lay. He'd given her her pleasure, and now he was focused on his.

"To be swarmed by you...to smell my own offspring in the woman I'm fucking, in the woman I love?" And he sounded moved by the idea. Sarah opened her eyes but stared at nothing, trying to focus both on what he was saying and doing. She felt her fingers weave in between his, and clutched them tightly when he surprised her with a hard, forward thrust. "—that is a feeling only you have given me, Precious," he said in perfect clarity just over her ear. "And it is unlike anything…" and he groaned impulsively. The sound stirred her. The distraction she heard in his voice stirred her even more when he repeated, "...anything…"

His manner turned more aggressive after that. Erratic. He held her down. Held her in strict position —like an animal, she noted (with a wild kind of thrill). He basked in the pleasure of her body and her scent, and let her know full well the selfish abandon he was taking from her.

And, he was now so taken by her that he could no longer speak. The shameless noises that replaced his words gave her a deep sense of intimacy, actually, and she found herself turning her hands up to lace their fingers and clasp his hands palm to palm. He angled each thrust upward, touching that spot somewhere deep inside that made her moan to his pace.

"J-Jareth—" she cried out, hanging so futilely on the edge.

Jareth moaned in the back of his throat and fucked her harder.

"That's right, sweet thing, moan for me."

His command sent her over the edge. She squeezed his hands til her fingers turned white, and shrieked. Her head curled down, and she fought to push her ass back, to meet him even deeper against that aching, angry spot.

She screamed when the orgasm hit her, even more unabashedly than the first time. Her legs pressed into the mattress, trying to curl in and press together, but he would not allow it.

He kept her hands pinned and leaned up over her, intensely focused on drawing out every last second of her climax. The smell she made for him was intoxicating. Overwhelming, even. It made his eyes tingle and his vision turn hazy as if about to be hit with vertigo. He pressed through it, however, his face twisting in a euphoric grimace as he came just as violently.

He fucked her through it, moaning loudly before rearing back from her and grabbing her by the hips. He jerked her ass upward, and held her at an angle as he sank in so deeply and filled her with his cum.

And Sarah, greedy for every precipitous bit of his undoing, anchored her knees to the bed and pushed her ass hard back. She gasped for breath, her face flushed with sweat, and clenched her insides around his cock over and over until he was spent.

That moment drew to a close gradually —his cock still half hard despite the power of his orgasm.

He made a noise when he pulled out of her like it'd hurt him —and she made the same. They were both overstimulated. Too sensitive. Her insides were still hot and throbbing when they collapsed on the bed beside one another.

They were quiet for a long time, reposed and wayward as they caught back their breath. She laid her head over his arm extended towards her, eventually turning to watch him. She was surprised, however, to find that he was frowning. That he looked...incredibly bothered, actually, and was even pinching the bridge of his nose. Huh? Had...he been like that the entire time?

Sarah was about to ask what was wrong when suddenly all the windows flew open.

A strong gust followed in, and it was all abrupt enough to give her a jolt. She started to sit upright, but his arm circled around her assuringly. He sensed her concern through her tense posture, however, and quickly explained as directly as he could manage.

"You're going to kill me," he said. Sarah whipped around to face him.

"What?"

"Unless you want me to actually fuck you to pieces…" he went on, then let go of his brow. "Then we need to air out this room."

Sarah paused. Jareth looked utterly exhausted in a bad way. Was he really that frustrated by her? Why did seeing him so downtrodden make her excited? Despite his discomfort and (disturbing) idle threat, Sarah couldn't stop herself from grinning.

She huffed through her nose and laid out on her stomach, angling her head at him as her eyes roamed up and down.

He hadn't put himself back to get her yet. Hm….still alluring.

Taking mercy on her poor, slave-to-his-senses fae husband, she chose not to tease him, averted her eyes, and rolled onto her back. She stared up at the canopy of her bed for a few minutes, wide-eyed and attentive in stark contrast to Jareth's tight look of focus.

As time quietly ticked, Sarah wondered how long she needed to wait for the room to be considered aired.

"So..." she started, getting impatient. "...does this mean Roldan will have that same reaction too?" She peered over curiously to see if he'd settled yet. From the frown lingering on his face, she figured that was a no. Honestly, she was impressed by how well her pheromones had wrecked him. That said, it now made her worried for the effect it would have on others— "Just...by being around me?"

Though his furrowed brow remained, Jareth cracked a playful smirk.

"To an extent, yes."

As if his confirmation was enough to change her entire perspective, Sarah internally groaned as Roldan's earlier awkwardness took on a whole new light.

"I think he was fighting it off pretty fiercely when I saw him earlier," she said with a wince. "I thought we were just being awkward about this morning, but he seemed a bit extreme even for him...He looked like he was about to implode for a minute."

Jareth laughed to himself.

"I don't doubt it."

Sarah turned her head and looked at him. The lines around his eyes were smoother. Maybe the breeze was working.

"He went back to normal after a few minutes though. Maybe Amara suddenly showing up was enough to distract him. She's, uh, kinda loud. But...I guess I get now why he didn't want to have dinner with us, either. Hm…"

Jareth didn't say anything to that. Sarah mused on her own. After another minute, she drew up her chilly legs and rolled towards him.

"I don't...really like the idea of random men feeling that way about me uncontrollably," she said, then scowled. "It's...awkward."

Jareth huffed and opened his eyes, composed enough to face her again (apparently) as he turned his head towards her with a lopsided grin.

"Just me then?"

Oh, so cheeky. Sarah rolled her eyes playfully.

"Well, yeah."

Jareth shifted, fixing his breeches before kicking off his boots which consecutively thumped to the floor.

"Don't worry," he said as she watched him. "You may have to endure some awkwardness from strangers, but those who remain around you should get used to it over time —so long as you're merciful. And, if I know Roldan, he's already well at work cementing his nerves." Then he glanced over at her coyly. "Though his attraction towards you might make that more difficult."

Sarah rolled her eyes away in a scoff.

"I wish you would quit with that. He does not like me," she said, astutely.

Jareth arched a brow.

"I never said he liked you. I said he was attracted to you. There is a difference," he asserted, returning her sass as readily as it was given. And then she felt a taunting finger twirl a lock of her hair. She turned to face it warily. "And who could blame him?"

Sarah tried her best not to make another deriding face. She would never understand how he could be so cavalier when talking of her and other men. —so weird.

"I'll tell you a little secret," he added, raising a lazy hand to shield his mouth in a mock-whisper. "Usually, the more awkward or angry he acts around a woman, the more interested he is." and then he looked back towards the ceiling as a brow quirked. "That sap has no poker face to speak of. It's proven a fairly reliable frame of reference over the years."

Sarah pursed her lips as her eyes roamed the textiles draping above them.

"Hm. I can see it. How middle school of him."

Jareth did not respond, but she supposed if he did it would have been with a shrug. One brow arched as a thought came to her mind.

"He's actually...been acting pretty comfortably around me lately," she said, expressing some manner of intrigue over it. Jareth grinned.

"Good," he said, then pulled her to his side when the arm beneath her curled around her back. She pressed her hands to his chest when he nuzzled her neck, and then giggled at the way his voice tickled when he murmured, "Must mean you're in the clear. …should we celebrate?"

---

Roldan closed the door behind himself quietly. Why he bothered showing the emptiness of the hall such consideration, however, was beyond him. It was well into night, and no one —not even a goblin— was around.

He exhaled and closed his eyes, fatigue and anxiety catching up to him as the barely-there light of torches had their way with his consciousness. He needed a day off, he told himself. A day, or a month, or year away from the effervescence of his always-so-responsible sovereigns.

He had his own appointments to see to that day. He shouldn't have to just drop everything to take over Jareth's as well. Cancel them, he'd said. Please. As if that was even an option.

His thoughts were absent as he walked alone back to his room. The sound of his footsteps, a soft click and an echo, was a familiar metronome that guided him deeper into that daze. Tomorrow he'd have even more people to talk to. And, just like today, each and every one of them would curl their lips and rake their eyes, their displeasure left tactfully silent, but still rendered all too apparent, over the fact that it was he whom they would have to make do with.

He was well used to such treatment however. He knew exactly what he was.

He paused in his step at a particular junction, but it had been purely unconscious. He came back to reality and registered where he was, and thus why he stopped. To go left would take him out of Jareth's apartments and into his own. To go right, however…

It would still lead him back to his wing, he reminded himself. Just in a...more roundabout way.

He didn't question why he chose the scenic route. There were no judging eyes to compel him to.

The further he went, however, the more anxious he became. A part of him wanted to stop and turn around, or take some random corner and make his walk even longer just to call it noble.

Alas, he debated himself into irony; for, before too long, he found himself standing at the mouth of that ignoble place where he had absolutely no interest in being.

T'was a servants' wing. Well, just one hallway, really. It could hardly be considered a full-fledged wing. Still, it had its own entrance and exit, was left out of the way, and...was what currently separated him from the sanctuary of his chambers.

He had actually lived in one of those rooms once, he recalled as he silently passed, back before Jareth decided he might like him and gave him his own private dormitory.

No other servant was given such luxury. That might mean something if he wasn't the only one.

The unassuming, wooden doors —passing in cloned repetition— and bare, grey stone of the corridor was as he remembered them. Of course, that wasn't what he was really thinking about.

His eyes trained on the glint of each knob as he walked by (lurked, really), his ears attuning to whatever might or might not be inside.

As dead silence endured, he felt a rise of frustration telling him how stupid he was being (again), with the usual terms of reproach to follow. He was asinine. A cad. He had no place being there, even just to pass through. He had no purpose either. What exactly was he hoping to accomplish?

Determination took hold, and he was glad to have regained himself, taking swift steps to exit that hall as soon as possible. Nothing was going to happen anyway. He did not want anything to happen—

He stopped on a dime at the sound of something heavy shifting across the floor from beyond one of the doors. It was a low sound, thudding, like furniture being dragged.

He took a few steps forward towards the door in question, and just….stood there. He knew Mariella's room was just ahead, the next door to his left. Which would mean...the one on the right…

It was dead quiet as he stared at the glint on the doorknob —and then he heard her giggle.

A jolt shot up his spine, and he nearly fled then and there. He did not, however. He stayed perfectly still. He had no purpose in passing through there, he reminded himself. He was not hoping for anything—

He heard her say something next, but it was incoherent through the stone of the wall. Still, it was light and chipper, and he knew it was her. It settled his anxiety a notch —just one— and he wondered who she was speaking to. Mariella, perhaps?

And then another thud, close to the door and thus to him, scared him damn-near out of his socks.

"Well aren't you a little cutie? Thank you!"

He understood her perfectly that time. She was just beyond the door. The fear that gave him made his heart pound, but he ignored it. It was just nerves, he assured himself. That thud had startled him.

He wanted, more than anything, to leave —but he couldn't. Gods forbid he stepped too quickly and made a scrape that she heard which would prompt her to open the door—

No. That was not a scenario he was thinking about at all, and it was certainly the last thing he wanted to happen.

He gathered from her words that she was speaking to a goblin —apparently taking to Sarah's new rules much more admirably than he had.

"Oh, that can go over there. I'll sort them later…"

Hm...she must be unpacking. But...wasn't it a bit late for that? She should be getting proper rest after such a long journey. She had a queen to report to in the morning—

Of course, that queen was Sarah, so…

No. No. No. Why was he parenting her to himself alone in the fucking hallway like (as Sarah would aptly say) some creep? Nothing about anything was any of his business, least of all the quality of the rest she was or was not getting.

He scowled at nothing, shaking his head clear of the admonishment he wanted to give her as a premise to the time they may then spend—

And then he clawed a hand around his forehead.

Gods.

Was this really happening right now? Was he really still standing there? Still listening?

He was apprehensive of the misunderstanding that might ensue should that door open. He was feeling irritated now. He'd probably say something nasty.

A vision of what her round little face might look like staring up at him with a frightened frown antagonized him —mostly because, even then, the idea of her mouth being worried and o-shaped made his jaw clench and lock.

He heard some tumbling then, a stack of something falling over, and then her lively laugh resound yet again. It sounded fuller this time, deep in her chest. He hadn't heard it quite like that before —her snickers at him always politically restrained in her throat.

He thought that he liked that sound. It was nice. He might even like to hear it in person.

However, despite these calm thoughts, his brow only drew together tighter and tighter. The fact that he'd only heard that sound secondhand reminded him that he should not be there. That he had no place there, near her, let alone with.

Even if she did open the door, and he was not nasty, there would be no other option than to promptly leave.

Because that was his place. That was always his place. And he knew, more than anything, exactly what he was.

---

A/N- I feel like I should say something given how long this is and...all the talking lol. There is just so much exposition, casual (and not so casual) chatter, and general melodramatic pining. Hm. Where to start.

Firstly, I want to credit Jediavenger and the rest of the LFFL gang for helping me decide on what random objects a goblin would want to be paid in lol. The list for that was long to say the least, but I think I settled well enough XD.

Secondly. Oh boi. Roldan. I laid it on pretty thick with him, didn't I? Ah, I can't help it though. The more angsty he gets, the more I growl with diabolical excitement "more, more, MORE!" I do, however, think this kind of instant and wild pining is very much in character for him. Dude is so repressed and has such a severe inferiority complex that he just immediately latches onto and idolizes whatever happens to fit his "ideal mold" and catch his eye in the right place and at the right time. It would be easy to say "it's Aurelia all over again" but...no. No it's not, and you will definitely see why. Amara is her own character and will not be anyone's replacement —she will make sure of that. Roldan is...in for a very arduous road ahead with this one lol. I, for one, am really looking forward to his torment.

Thirdly, I hope the conversations had in this chapter give better context to Jareth's behavior in the previous chapter. I didn't explicitly explain it while it was happening, but Sarah's various smells were literally compelling him to lay his heart on his sleeve. I really don't think he would have ever *cried* otherwise. HeWaSjUsTsOoVeRwHeLmEd.

What else...ah. Fourthly, yes, we are gaining one more new character. I can't say if Sir Dr. Andeas/Johnathan Andrews will be *main cast material*, but Sarah does need a doctor, so...it was either him or some random, clichéd old fae person who grumbled a lot and was of utterly no consequence to the story. I try to give all of my OC's meaning, so...Dr Andrews it is. If anyone has watched Poldark, I got my inspiration for him from Dr. Enys.

Fifthly, I tried to reiterate certain details that have been dropped throughout the story but may have been forgotten now that they're finally coming into play. Hence the gratuitous exposition. If anyone found it redundant, sorry, but I guess I'd rather that than have people be confused. This is kind of a long story, after all lol.

Sixthly, and lastly I suppose, it took me so long to write this one that, by the end of it, I just really wanted them to bang. I felt like *I* earned it. lol. Really though, I tend to look for any reasonable excuse to make my characters frisky, and I am not sorry. I think now it's Night of a Thousand Death's turn to be written. The next chapter for that will be the last. See you then ;)