It's been a while so a quick catch up.
Toby made a careless wish to save Sarah's husband, Henry from dying of cancer by throwing a coin into a wishing well. They agree to give him a year if Toby lives Underground. Sarah swaps with Toby. Sarah has her last year with her husband before going Underground with Athene and her cult members. One of which is Eriché who turns out to be Jareth.
Jareth wins Sarah in a Ceant (auction) to train her as her Othlu (high ranking member) as part of the process of initiation into the Owl Cult (Earnáil na n-ulchabhán). They have left the Crann (HQ for owl cult) and are on their way to the Goblin Kingdom. Jareth and Sarah have flown on the back of a Griffin and have just had a meal in an inn before they switch to horse and carriage for the final leg of their journey. Sarah was attacked in the previous chapter by a member of the rat cult.

And right at the end, Jareth opens his gob and asks her if she would save someone who couldn't save her.

Let's get back into it...

Chapter 7: Naillghas

"Could you save someone that couldn't save you?"

The words rattled around her skull for a moment or two. Sarah searched out his blue eyes with her green ones. They were cool and unreadable.

"You need me to save you?" Sarah pushed her bowl away from her and leaned back in her chair. "Or who would you have me save?"

The Goblin King licked his lips slowly and placed his spoon down in his bowl. "I think we should go to the carriages now and make a move."

"You're not going to answer me?"

He sighed. "Curadh, you tried to save your husband from death. Yet, there was nothing he could do to save you. The question was hypothetical. You clearly would save someone that couldn't save you."

"My husband would have saved me if he could." Sarah snapped, as a tear splashed down her cheek. "Don't speak of what you don't know." She wiped away the tear hastily and refused to shed another one in his presence.

"What don't I know?" he asked with a snide tone.

"You have no idea what love is, Goblin King." She swallowed hard to keep herself from shouting. "You have no idea what it is like to give your heart to someone who took it with him when he left my world. You have no idea what it means to save someone, only for them to die anyway. So do not speak to me about him saving me back. You don't understand what it means to love."

Sarah tore her eyes away from his increasingly pale visage to stare into her bowl of half-eaten stew. Thankfully, it was quite bland and tasteless so she wasn't regretting her loss of appetite.

She was uncomfortably aware that people were staring in their direction.

"I am going to pretend that it is your grief speaking to me, as I am sure you wouldn't dare talk to me in such a disrespectful tone—"

"Believe what you want."

Jareth sighed and placed his hand, palm down, on the table. "You are wrong about my understanding of love, Curadh."

Sarah took a deep, steadying breath. "You don't do something for someone expecting love in return. That is not how love works. I saved him, and he'd save me if the situation had been reversed. But just because someone gives or offers something doesn't mean you owe them your love."

"But if you offer everything you have to someone—if you offer the world, they should at least stop and think on it before—"

"Are you still hung up about me winning your poxy game, Eriché?" Sarah gritted her teeth, unsure how the conversation had taken such a turn. Why was he making this about him? Or was she just interpreting it that way? He may not have even been referring to their final confrontation. She cursed herself for letting him work herself up.

"We need to go to the carriages now. We will talk more when we have embarked on the last leg of our journey," he changed tact, dismissively.

With that, Jareth stood and headed to the innkeeper who was wiping the bar with a cloth, while shooting surreptitious glances their way.

Sarah sculled the last dregs of beer and headed to the door to wait for him on the side of the road. She kicked stones mindlessly as she leaned against the wall of the inn.

How dare he expect her to owe him anything just because he made that flimsy offer at the end of her run. Unless he wasn't talking about her. Did the Goblin King fancy himself in love with someone else then? That would make more sense. At least that way she absolved herself of any responsibility for his feelings. Not that she had any. Why was she even getting into this with him?

Why, after all this time, would he imagine he had feelings for her? The more she thought about it, the more she realised it would be someone else he would be referring to. She shouldn't have risen to his bait. She cursed out loud for her foolish emotions getting the better of her.

Why did he have to come back into her life when she was dealing with her grief? She would be far more level headed and much better situated to go head to head with him if she wasn't mourning Henry.

Though, she remembered his visits to her over the years. He never seemed a man in love or particularly heartbroken when she rejected him. It was almost as if he expected the inevitable, shrugged it off and went about his day.

It always made Sarah uncomfortable; like he was forced to visit her and ask her to return with him; like they weren't his true feelings. With that thought in her head, it would be easier to reject any advance he made towards her.

If he even made any advances.

Why did she think he would? She certainly didn't want him to. Part of her was curious about what sex would be like with him. But emotionally, she would not be investing anything into him.

Sarah groaned into her hands. Why was she even thinking about him? She was utterly in love with Henry. He had been the one—for as much as she believed in the one, anyway. Even looking at the Goblin King in the light of anything more than her enemy felt like a betrayal.

"Why the fuck am I even here?" Sarah cried into her hands.

She felt a gentle hand on her elbow and looked up to see the Goblin King standing next to her. His expression was a mixture of puzzlement and gentleness.

"You're here because neither of us had a real choice." He offered a sad smile. "If I could make it different for you, I would."

Without waiting for a response, he marched up the road. Sarah followed at a slower pace, hugging herself, more confused than ever. He was so mercurial and even with Sarah's strength of mind, she struggled to keep up with his ever increasing fluctuations.

How would he make it different? Did he not want her here as much as she didn't want to be here? Then why go to the lengths he went to to win the auction? She pushed her tongue against her teeth to refrain from screaming.

There was zero point tying herself up in knots about this. She needed to focus on getting to her friends and then finding a way home from there. She was certain they'd have an escape route for her. She had promised to come Underground as part of the bargain. She hadn't promised to stay.

Sarah caught up to him as he rounded the corner. In front of them was a large black, wrought iron fence. The Goblin King opened the gate and led her through several buildings until they reached one next to a paddock of waiting horses.

Jareth spoke to a leathery old man in a brown apron, who hobbled off into the nearest door. They both watched him leave as if he was the only thing holding back the rising tension between the tow of them.

The Goblin King didn't say anything as they waited. He just leaned against the wooden fence and made inviting sounds to the horses. Two of the horses—one chestnut and the other a deep midnight—plodded over to him instantly. He ran his gloved hands down over their leathery noses as he spoke to them in a language she didn't understand.

"Usually horses are spooked by owls," he muttered. "I may be the exception."

"Congratulations," Sarah responded, turning to face the sound of wheels crunching on stone. Jareth ignored her sarcasm. Their carriage was arriving. An ostentatious black carriage with gold adornments was drawn to a stop beside them by four white horses. The Goblin King left the two horses he'd been conversing with to give the man a purse of coins.

"After you." The Goblin King held his hand out for her. She ignored his hand and climbed in under her own steam. She didn't acknowledge his amused chuckle.

It was as plush and comfortable as she expected with velvets and more gilt than was necessary. She sat facing forward and crossed her arms and looked out the door opposite to where he was climbing in.

As the carriage rattled off down the stony drive, Sarah kept her mind focused on the surrounding buildings instead of the mire of her grief. Her eyes soaked in the picturesque village with its quaint little buildings, but after a few minutes her eyes slid out of focus and she disappeared within herself.

Her grief sat heavily against her chest. In the whirlwind of the past year, she had let the grief add layer upon jagged layer to the ball of sorrow. Then as she was whisked away to the Underground, she threw a blanket over it to soften the edges. In light of her conversation with Jareth, the spiky edges had ripped through the threads of the blanket and were once again pressing hard and sharp against her insides. Absent-mindedly she rubbed at her chest.

"The carriages of the Goblin Kingdom are significantly finer than this one," the Goblin King uttered as the village gave way to rolling hills in a shade of green that looked like it was a photoshopped and heavily filtered image. He seemed determined to mindlessly chat about anything to avoid deeper dialogue about his earlier revelations.

Sarah quirked her eyebrow but didn't say anything. This carriage was fine enough. Her thoughts turned to Henry and his brief stint in photography. He dabbled with most of the arts, but music was his true passion. He had once taken rather fetching artistic nudes of her when he had been exploring photography. She had enjoyed posing for Henry and he had remained so professional right up to the end where they made love under the lights and amongst the scenery he had set up.

She was sure the Goblin Monarch—with no degree of shame of the blatant display of his package and his overt sexuality—would use her photos to his advantage somehow if he ever discovered them. Sarah instinctively clutched her bag closer to her.

It wasn't long before she felt herself dozing off with the steady rumble of the carriage lulling her into a drowsy state.

When she jerked awake, her neck was stiff, her mouth dry and her eyes heavy. She slowly rolled her shoulders and neck and glanced out of the window. The hills remained but were rather more rugged and windswept.

Sarah shot a cursory glance towards Jareth and was surprised to find him asleep, his head lolling against the back of his seat and his mouth slightly agape. She turned away, uncomfortable with seeing him quite so vulnerable.

She scrubbed her face with her palms, aware that she had allowed herself to be just as vulnerable in sleep with him in the carriage. She hurriedly picked up her rucksack that had slipped onto the floor. It looked to have been untampered with. She released a puff of breath and resumed her study of the passing scenery.

"Here." A short time later she was pulled from her reverie by the King's voice. Sarah dragged her eyes away to reluctantly look at him. He was pale and had shadows under his eyes that felt eerily out of place in his ethereal face. The lines on his face were drawn tight and he almost looked haggard. He almost looked his age. Not that Sarah had a clue how old that was. He was holding out a flask towards her.

Sarah ran her tongue around her parched mouth and licked her dry lips to produce saliva. She swallowed the dry lump in her throat and shook her head.

"It's not poisoned." His tone was impatient. Sarah noticed the slight quiver of his arm as he held it out. How drained was he from his magical donation? "It's just water. Fresh, spring water."

Sarah scoffed lightly and tried to ignore her cotton wool mouth.

"If I didn't toss you down from the back of the griffon, why would I waste any of my depleted magical reserves trying to poison you?"

"Why did you poison me during my run?"

"I hardly poisoned you."

"If I had eaten more than a bite, what would have happened to me?"

His blue eyes assessed her coolly. "The potency doesn't change with extra consumption. Nothing would have changed or been any different." He looked away.

"Why did you—?"

"You weren't supposed to win. I had to slow you down." He lowered the flask to rest it on his knee. "The peach was just a distraction. Showing you what you could have had if you"—he swallowed heavily—"had stayed."

"A lot of your people laughing and teasing me?"

His eyes flicked down to her hands gripping her bag and then back to her eyes. "No. Did you not listen to my song?"

Sarah rolled her eyes and turned away, swallowing to try and produce saliva and ignore her thirst. How long ago had that beer been? She was suddenly aware of her need to go to the toilet as well.

As if he could read her mind he informed her that they were stopping at a hamlet shortly where they could take care of their needs.

"But I recommend taking a drink and I have also brought some fruit to tide you over."

Sarah shifted in her seat. "I can wait."

He sighed and tugged the stopper out of the flask before he took a swig. He watched her over the silver vessel as he drank. Sarah gritted her teeth in annoyance but wasn't swayed.

"Not poisoned." He placed the flask next to him and licked his lips. Sarah found herself tracking his tongues motions. His lips looked soft and despite the thin lines, he drew them into, very kissable. Sarah smiled at him to glaze over the fact she had been staring at his mouth.

"You're smiling." His brow was cocked.

Sarah nodded. "I am."

"Why?"

"Perhaps I am just imagining the water is poisoned and you drop down dead."

Jareth grinned, his sharp teeth cutting through his smile like knives. "How then will you learn the ways of the Earnáil na n-ulchabhán?"

"Why would I need to?" Sarah shrugged, gripping her bag tighter still. She peered out the window. "I am sure I could find my own way in this world. I found my own way once before and I found my own way through my own world to great effect."

"This isn't the Labyrinth or the mortal realm, Curadh." His voice was stern. "Without understanding magic, you need the protection of those that have it."

Sarah saw his hands curl into fists into the seat.

"Remember the foxes that had appeared when your brother made the wish?"

"Vaguely."

"There are other factions and cults that would use you to their advantage if they found you."

"And aren't you already doing that?" Sarah canted her head. "Minni explained the advantage of being an Othlu to a new member."

"If you think I just won the Ceant to gain prestige, then you—"

The carriage jerked to a stop and Sarah had to brace her feet into the floorboards to stop herself from being flung into the Goblin King.

Instantly, Jareth glared out the window and his tense frame relaxed as he saw where they were.

"We've arrived at the hamlet, Curadh."

"He opened the door and headed out without even a backwards look at her. She followed less eagerly.

The hamlet was small; with three buildings and a couple of outbuildings. Surrounding them were hills and flanking those hills were terraced fields separated by walls of grass and on the rim, copses of trees enveloping the valley. Their surroundings reminded her of the rice fields in Indonesia she had seen once in a National Geographic magazine at school.

Sarah edged around the horses to see where the Goblin King had disappeared to. She saw him talking to a petite lady with flaming red hair down her back. She wore a low cut white blouse that revealed an ample bosom as she ducked into a low curtsy. On her way up, Sarah watched with amusement as she batted her eyelids at the Goblin King.

Sarah approached behind him, still clutching her bag possessively. The lady's bright green eyes turned from the King to her. In them, Sarah briefly saw surprise followed by mistrust.

To Sarah's disbelief, the lady curtsied to her.

"Milady."

Sarah turned to Jareth who didn't take his eyes off the red-haired woman.

"This is Deliu," he said curtly. "She will take you to a suitable place for your ablutions before we have something to eat and drink."

Deliu bobbed into a curtsy once more and wordlessly led Sarah behind the smallest building.

"Water closet there, water to wash there and linen to dry there." She pointed at the three separate places and then spun on her heel to leave her alone.

Sarah pulled the rotten wooden door open and groaned as she was met with the stench of an unclean lavatory. How she missed modern plumbing.

Sarah did her business as quickly as she could, though her haste was impeded by the fact her period had arrived and she had to rummage in her bag for a pad. She then rushed to wash her hands in the frigid water within the steel tub which was perched atop a barrel, shuddering all the while. The soap was dry and cracked and smelled heavily of lanolin but at least she felt cleaner. She splashed her face with water and ran wet fingers through her hair, shaking it out of its braid. The linen she dried herself with was rough and coarse but it did the trick Gathering her belongings, she made her way back onto the road, relieved to at least see the horses and carriage, if not her host.

Sarah rounded the carriage—while fixing her plait— to await further instructions when she stumbled upon Deliu pressed against the Goblin King, with her legs either side of his thigh. Her small calloused hands were pressed into his chest. Her mouth hovered over his bare skin at the base of his throat. The Goblin King held her shoulders limply in his gloved hands. His eyes were shuttered and his expression guarded. Sarah ignored the burning in the pit of her stomach to clear her throat.

The Goblin King flicked his eyes to her and grinned as he gently nudged Deliu away from his person. Sarah watched as she pouted and placed her hands on her hips.

"Not today, Del," he said to her in a coarse whisper as he tipped her chin with a finger. "Maybe next time."

"So sorry to interrupt, Eriché," Sarah said, her voice laced with sarcasm. She smirked at the Goblin King and tossed her braid over her shoulder as she finished the plait.

Deliu glared at her but Eriché just returned her smirk. He pushed off the wall and laced his arm with hers before she had a chance to pull away.

"Del, take us to some food and drink."

The disgruntled Deliu stomped past and Sarah found herself being led by the Goblin King into the largest building. Her efforts to untangle her arm from his was met with firm resistance—despite how worn out he was from donating his magic. Sarah suspected he was using her to support his weight more than anything. Once inside they were directed to a kitchen area. Eriché unhooked his arm from her and sat at the wooden table like he owned the place.

Sarah followed suit, sitting on the rough wooden chairs. Deliu placed a board with fresh bread down on the table with rather more menace than it required. Sarah sucked in a breath as she watched the poor woman scuttle around the kitchen, clearly pissed off that she had not received a fuck from the Goblin King.

"I'm just gonna fetch the cheese from the larder." Deliu placed a basket of fruit on the table heavily as she glowered at her two guests before storming off.

Sarah helped herself to the jug of water, drinking it greedily from her wooden cup. Slaking her thirst had never felt so good.

"You will happily enjoy a repast from a stranger but not from me when offered." His features were guarded and unreadable. Sarah just glanced at him over the rim of her cup. Deliu hadn't drugged her with a peach or dragged her against her will to the Underground. Deliu may be surly, but she at least had a lack of historic drugging in her favour.

She placed her cup down with purpose, casting a sardonic look at him. "Correct. You seemed eager to take what she was offering, so why shouldn't I?"

Jareth leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers against his chin.

"You didn't need to stop on my account, you know," Sarah said, grinning. "Deliu seems rather put out that she didn't get a good screw from you."

The Goblin King smirked once again as he rolled an apple up his forearm and back down to catch it with a twist much like his crystals. "She'll get over it by the time the next travellers roll through."

Sarah sliced some bread and refrained from commenting.

"You could always have a go," he said with a wink. "I'm rather exhausted, but nothing is stopping you from—"

Sarah interrupted him with a bark of laughter. "I don't think I have what Deliu wants." Sarah purposefully misconstrued his words.

"And what's that, Curadh?" He leaned forward, grinning.

"A cock for one thing."

"Don't tell me that the Champion hasn't tasted feminine delights before?"

Sarah sighed. "It's really none of your business, Goblin King."

"Call me Eriché, please." He took the knife from her to cut his own slice of bread. "If you want to sample what she has to offer, you are welcome to join us."

"I know that you're not human so I should not assign human emotion to anything here, however, I am a widow and the furthest thing from my mind is fucking, casual or otherwise." She ripped at her piece of bread and shoved a lump into her mouth. "Besides, I don't think she likes me much."

The truth was she had been with both men and women sexually, but romantically, her attraction had historically been to men. But really, what business was it of the Goblin King's?

"You may not want to fuck Deliu," he replied, taking a bite of his bread. "But I wasn't suggesting that you should bed her when you interrupted me."

Sarah wasn't going to fuck him either. Thankfully she was spared any response by the return of Deliu who slammed a block of cheese down on the table.

"I have made pies and cakes for you to take on yer journey." Deliu only had eyes for the King. "You should get to Sinnington by sundown, Niallghas Ó Cathasaighi."

The King merely nodded as he sliced some cheese. He proffered a slab of cheese on the end of the knife towards Sarah.

Sarah took it and nibbled on it as she watched Deliu huff and puff around the kitchen.

"My husband will be home soon," Deliu said before she marched out of the room again. Sarah wasn't going to assume anything about Deliu and her wanton behaviour. They could be in an open marriage for all she knew. So she remained silent, despite the burning look Jareth was using to dare her to ask.

"Niallghas Ó Cathasaighi?" Sarah asked instead as soon as Deliu had left. Her tongue wove naturally around the words as if she'd been saying them her entire life.

"My Goblin name." He sliced another piece of cheese for himself. "Eriché is my Earnáil name but I am King Niallghas Ó Cathasaighi of the Goblins."

Sarah gave him a purposefully blank stare. How many fucking names did he have?

Jareth leaned closer to her, placing his hand on top of hers. "You know my birth name, Curadh, but you know better than to utter it."

Sarah licked the crumbs off her lips. "That's the first time I have heard anyone refer to you as Niallghas."

"A select few subjects know my birth name." He shrugged. "There are consequences if they tell others my name. To the rest of the world, I am Niallghas."

"Do you have a preference?" she asked, pulling her hand away from under his.

"Do you?" He winked.

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "I prefer to be called by my real name. But I understand the dangers of doing so here." Again, she refused to rise to his lascivious bait—she knew he was thinking about what name of his she'd by crying out in bed.

"There is power in a name." He twirled the knife with ample dexterity between his fingers. "Hence the consequences to my subjects."

Sarah felt an icy shiver travel down her spine. "Were there consequences for the person who told me your name in the first place?"

He bared his sharp teeth. "That numbskull was directed to tell you my name. I wanted you to know it."

Sarah was stunned into silence. Why would he want her to know? Why would he want her to have that power? "It was never in my book and you never told me," she ventured after a few moments.

"Of course not." He sipped his water as he studied her. "I don't want just anyone knowing it."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, why? Instead, she asked why he trusted her with his name when they were sworn enemies.

"Sworn enemies?" Jareth chuckled. He fixed his mismatched gaze onto her face with a solemnity that did not match the chuckle. "I wouldn't go that far. Adversaries maybe."

"But why trust someone who was and still is pitted against you?"

He shook his head and drank from his goblet deeply. "That answer will come to you in time. Walls have ears and I have already said too much."

"So do I call you Eriché, Niallghas or wanker?"

"I'd rather you called me Eriché for the time being. Niallghas is rather a formal name for old friends such as us. And wanker, while appropriate"—he winked again—"is a little crude, Curadh."

Sarah felt heat rise in her cheeks as he said that. She cleared her throat. "Old friends?"

"After everything I have done for you, surely the very least I am to you, is your friend."

"I had a rather painful cyst on my back that was more of a friend than I would ever consider you to be."

"You wound me," he said in a tone that implied he was as far from wounded as he could possibly be.

Deliu arrived back to clear up the table and give a basket of wrapped goods to Jareth.

"Naillghas Ó Cathasaighi, was everything to your liking?" Deliu asked, coyly playing with her hair.

Jareth nodded and rose from his seat.

"Are you sure you don't want—?" Deliu began, jutting out her hip and lowering her cleavage to his eye line so there was no doubting her intention.

He held out his hand and shook his head. "We need to be in Sinnington before nightfall, Deliu. And as you see, I already have a companion."

"She can join us if—"

Jareth patted Deliu on the shoulder. "I thank you for your courtesy, but she has rather worn me out."

Deliu glared at Sarah as if Sarah had deprived her of water after a desert walk. Sarah glared at Jareth. Jareth just smirked.

Sarah rolled her eyes discreetly and followed suit by leaving the table. Sarah observed how Jareth's hands shook as he clutched the basket and with an unusual amount of compassion for his pride, she took the basket from his hands. His eyes met hers in silent understanding and he didn't fight her coming to his rescue. He nodded briskly and Sarah left the building to return to the carriage.

Jareth followed not long after, Deliu trailing in his wake with a sulky pout. Jareth hopped in beside her and shut the door. One bang on the roof was enough to get the carriage moving again.

Sarah noticed Jareth was still trembling.

"Not enough energy to fuck her?" Sarah teased. She imagined he would take teasing over pity. "I would have guessed, no matter how depleted you were, that you would always have energy for that."

"Deliu isn't exactly a rare jewel that I have been denying myself for years," he answered, his voice hoarse. "She is adequate but not worth mustering what little remains in me to be a decent lover to her."

"What of her husband?"

"Mated but not bonded so she can bed who she pleases. As can he." Jareth leaned right back in his chair, his head falling back. "He is the superior lover, however."

"So if you're bonded, does that mean any extra-marital activities would then be considered cheating?"

Jareth nodded.

"I can not imagine many Underground couples that are then bonded."

"Not many."

Sarah turned her gaze out the window, suspecting he wasn't quite engaged in the conversation as she was.

"Why the interest?" he asked after a while.

"It's different to how we do things," she replied, still staring out the window as they left the hamlet behind.

"Do you want to mate with me to see how it is done?" he asked with a cheeky tone.

Sarah's instinct was to snap a denial, instead, she just continued to gaze out at the hills.

He chuckled. "Because I am open to it if you are."

"Do none of you understand that my husband just died?" she snapped. "From the moment I arrived Minni was trying to set me up with…" Sarah froze. She couldn't tell him that it was her brother when it dawned on her that Minnie's brother was Jareth. "And now this," she finished lamely.

Jareth leaned forward. "Who did Minni try and set you up with?" His voice had lowered an octave and he didn't seem too pleased with the news.

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "It doesn't matter who it was. I'm sick of it. You all have one thing on your mind and I just want to grieve my Henry without people plotting my future for me."

The silence rang in her ears. They stared at each other for a few more moments before she turned away, crossing her arms.

"The Underground grieves differently to the Above," he explained. "One day spent in the Gairdíní na Muinteartha is usually enough for us." He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've spent a lot of time there and you still grieve. Understand that for us, we don't love one person deeply to mourn for so long. It is usual for us to love many, not one. I imagine if I loved someone as much as you loved your husband, then I too would not appreciate others involving themselves in who I court."

Sarah appreciated his honest reflection but couldn't find the words to answer him. She returned to watching the scenery unfold along their journey.

"Thank you," Jareth said mildly, after a quiet ten minutes or so. "I don't need anyone finding out I am currently not at full strength." He closed his eyes. "Thank you for taking the basket."

"Except that, I know."

He cracked one eye—the darker one—to peer at her. "And what could you do with that information?"

"I could have told Deliu."

"I trust you."

Sarah winced. "Why the hell do you trust me?"

Jareth sighed. "I just do."

"That's pretty stupid of you."

He just grunted and closed his eyes. Before long he was asleep again and Sarah was left to stare out the window and contemplate the past few weeks.

A/N: Finally working on this one again.

They still haven't arrived at the Goblin Kingdom but they will next chapter. Then the waffling will stop and the action will pick up.

Sarah has still got a lot of grief to process. This is a slow burn and it will be a while before anyone is banging the other. But we already see from this chapter that Jareth is starting to shift away from his usual pattern of rolling in the hay with anyone willing. Though you could argue that he was just too exhausted. We'd all like believe it's because Sarah is back in his life.

Yes, Jareth has yet another name. But it's only the three of them. His birth name (Jareth) which is most powerful name and the one that a handful of people know. His cult name (Eriché). And his name he known by as King (Naillghas).

Thank you, if you're still reading this.