Jareth stiffened, his whole body rigid, jaw clenched as the muscles in his body strained against his austere posture. "Where did you hear that name?" His voice low, edged with a visceral suspicion and betrayal.

Sarah observed his stiff motions. His long fingers digging into the leather upholstered arms of his seat, the fabric straining against his claw-like grip. His breathing shallowed. Hooded eyes fixed their predatory gaze on her. Had she seen this look on his face ten years ago, she surely would have trembled with fear, but now, it only stirred rueful pity.

"You talk in your sleep," she said quietly. "The same nightmare every day. Always ending with that name. Who is she?"

Jareth rose slowly, retreating from his Champion. Opening the doors to the balcony, he struggled to the balustrade, using it to support his weight. His eyes took in the landscape as the world reawoke after the storm that had finally passed. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of humid flora around him, the warmth of the sun on his face. If only he too could have his sins washed away so easily.

He had never spoken to anyone of her. Brigid. Trying so hard to forget her. Of course, Sarah would be the one to discover his greatest secret. Still, he wasn't sure he could confess his greatest shame.

She joined him outside, silently staring out at the distance. Her focus found a random point among the twisting walls of the Labyrinth to hold her attention far away from the one thing she longed to study.

They stood there in the quiet between them. For how long she couldn't say. Time never seemed to flow steadily when she was with him, either passing with unnerving swiftness or drawing to a complete standstill.

"Two hundred years ago, I met a young mortal maid in the company of a fellow Fae. We were attending the Yule festivities of the High King as we did every year. She was beautiful unlike any human, or Fae for that matter, I had ever seen. Dark hair. Fair skin. I wanted her the moment I saw her. I would have done anything to have her."

"And?" Her heart beat wildly, throat dry with anxious anticipation of the answers she finally heard.

"I did," he said with an ominous aura surrounding him. His arms shook with the effort of standing and holding his weight.

Sarah took his hand as his elbow buckled. He'd been up too long. She pushed him too far again. Gently, she pulled him back into his room, leading him to the bed.

He allowed himself to be moved by the smaller figure beside him, savoring the nearness of her while he could. For surely, she would forsake him once she learned everything. He sat on the edge of the bed. His fingers combed through his hair, as he rested his head on his hands, hunched over as he leaned on his legs.

She waited for the shock of his fragmentary confession to come but deep down, she had expected as much. Hearing her suspicions confirmed did not lessen the weight she felt on her heart though.

"What happened to her?" She sat next to him, wanting to wrap her arms around him, comforting him or maybe just herself but settled, instead, for mere proximity.

"I don't know." It was the one piece of knowledge that was beyond his power to attain. He who had prided himself on pushing the boundaries of erudition could never answer that one simple question. His one failure.

She blinked back tears at the pain she heard in his voice. "And you've never loved anyone else."

"I couldn't," he whispered. His emotions drained what little energy he had. Saying all of this out loud was never part of his plan. Admitting to anyone his feelings for the mortal girl who disappeared seemed surreal. He needed time. Space. Rest.

Sarah stood as he moved to lie down. She dashed away the tear that fell down her cheek. She surveyed the room, searching for something to occupy her as he turned his back to her. They were right back where they started because she pushed him to the point of shutting her out once more.

She gathered her tea things, pocketing a few cookies in a napkin that she tucked into her bag, and left the cart outside the door. The room itself shone and gleamed under her vigilant care but somehow, it had returned to its original state of gloom. Now, however, her sadness mixed with his own.


Jareth and Sarah tried to maintain composure through their dinner and bedtime routine. Heavy silence hung between them as they went through the motions they had diligently perfected in their days together.

Now they laid in their separate spaces. He in his stately bed and her in the makeshift window seat bed. Both staring into the void. Neither filling the space with words.

The room was full of shadows, the fire was burned down to embers, the warmth of the day lasting well into the evening. The doors to the balcony were open, a breeze and moonlight casting everything into harsh relief, remaking the massive carved furniture and every ornament into gargoyles and ghouls matching the inner turmoils of its inhabitants.

Tracing the grain of the wood in his canopy as he had in the past, he was surprised to feel his burdens felt a little lighter after sharing them with Sarah. But guilt weighed on him as heavily as regret now. She did not need to be subjected to his past.

His miseries were his own. The pain and punishment his to bear. But it touched him to know that someone else cared enough to want to know about him. Most had always avoided him. With good reason, of course.

Sarah counted the stars she saw in the sky outside the window, unable to visualize sheep as she laid under the downy comforter trying to stay her frenzied thoughts long enough to fall asleep. Stars that had remained steadfast over eons. Always there. Never wavering. Constant.

It proved impossible as her mind replayed his words over and over. He still loved and wanted another woman after two hundred years. He never moved on.

Why did her heart ache so? No one had ever loved her that way. Because you only ever want dreams you cannot have.

Jealousy had taken a firm grip on her senses. There was no denying it. No pretending anymore.

And yet, even with the knowledge that she would never be more than his nurse, she did not want to leave his side. Perhaps once he healed, he would be able to focus on healing his emotional injuries. Maybe she would be able to stay and help with that as well.

But first, he had to heal and so far, that did not seem to be happening. She sighed, fixing her sight on a star to restart her ritual.


She tossed and turned through the night. With no idea long she lay there as she stared out the window. The sky outside was no longer an inky black but midnight blue as dawn threatened to rise far too soon for her liking.

Turning her head, she snuck a peek at Jareth whose breathing was shallow and even, his eyes closed. The fire had died. The room was cool and comfortable.

She snuggled under the covers, intent on trying to at least lay there with her eyes closed until the sun rose when a scratching at the door made her bolt upright. It was too early for the breakfast cart.

Tip-toeing through the room, she quietly cracked the door open. Two small shadows were standing outside the threshold whispering intently. Squix quickly threw its arms around the body of Triggs preventing the other goblin from barreling into the king's chambers.

"You guys," Sarah said, kneeling down as she spoke with a hushed voice. "It's not even breakfast time yet. You shouldn't be up here. If he catches you, you'll be in trouble."

"Treat," grunted Triggs with its gruff voice.

Her eyes narrowed on the black little goblin. "Have you two been good?" she asked.

Squix nodded its head, large ears flapping excitedly. "Oh yes. We've been so good."

Sarah smiled at the goblins who showed up every now and then for their treats eagerly promising good behavior until the next time they were able to sneak past anyone who kept them to the lower floors where they belonged.

Jareth's eye opened a sliver as he noticed Sarah sneaking her way to the sitting area then back to the door. Who would be calling at such an hour? Why was she entertaining them?

She unwrapped a napkin and handed each goblin a cookie. "Here you go. Enjoy. Don't make a mess and be good" She shooed them away as they munched on their treats.

Jareth groaned with pain. A flash of a woman, silhouetted in the shadows at the edge of a garden. A bush that sniggered and giggled wickedly. He pushed the vision away, trying to rebuild the walls he had constructed years ago, but it crumbled as his body was assaulted with agonizing torment.

Sarah rushed to his side, grabbing his hand in hers. With her other hand, she brushed the hair out of his face, stroking his cheek until the grimace on his face relaxed. He quieted, his breath sighing against her palm.

Her heartbeat raced, pounding against her chest. There was no way she would be able to sleep after this. Slipping on some old worn sandals, she wrapped a chenille throw blanket from the chaise lounge around her shoulders covering her t-shirt and pajama pants. She stole a glance at Jareth who slept soundly once more and made her way to the kitchens.

A clock in the hall pointed to the hour of four. Bracken would surely be in her domain preparing for the day. And sure enough, as she entered the room, the fire was bright and lively and the dwarf was covered in flour busily kneading dough on her work surface.

Hoggle looked up from pouring two cups of steaming tea into sturdy mugs. "Sarah, what are you doing up this early?"

"Can't sleep. I thought I'd take a walk while His Majesty rested." She walked over to them and leaned her elbows on the countertop.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern etching the wrinkles in his face deeper than ever.

Sarah nodded absently, watching the fire dancing over and through the logs. "Have either of you heard of a woman called Brigid?"

"Can't say that I have," replied Bracken as she eyed Sarah with curious suspicion while Hoggle just shook his head. "Make yourself useful, dear." She gestured at a bowl of strawberries. "Slice those up. We're going to tempt his appetite with a strawberry galette this morning with fresh cream. Never could resist those."

"Hmm." She nibbled on her thumbnail. Her brow furrowed as she contemplated whether she should even entertain the train of thought out loud with them. To hell with it.

Straightening she adjusted the throw around her shoulders fashioning it into a shawl. Grabbing the bowl, she located a knife and cutting board then focused on cutting the leaves away before slicing the beautiful red berries. "Why isn't he married?"

"His Majesty? Huh, who'd want to marry him?" snarked Hoggle into his mug before taking a bracing sip. He did not like the path this conversation was veering off to. It wasn't proper for her to be wondering about that rat this way.

Bracken shot Hoggle a quick glare. "I do recall some time ago preparations being made for His majesty to bring home a bride.

Sarah's breath caught even as her heart seemed to stop at the same time. A bride? He had made arrangements. Meant to marry her. "What happened?"

Bracken balled up fistfuls of dough creating what would become crusty little rolls after baking. "Can't says that I know. One day, I'm planning a cake and menu with no specific date set in stone. Just waiting for the orders to be given so's I could make the final preparations. But that day never did come."

"Did you ever meet her? Or see her?" she asked. She sliced strawberries into thick sections.

"No. No one ever did to my knowledge." Bracken pushed the pan of rolls into one of the unlit ovens to rise, closing and latching the door with her apron-covered hand.

A huff sounded from Hoggle. "Probably never existed. A woman would be foolish indeed to love a creature like him."

Heat seared across Sarah's face. She hoped the orange glow of the fire hid the redness in her cheeks. She watched as Bracken zested a lime then squeezed the juice from a lemon.

"Some people–not me– mind you, say the girl was a mortal. An unwilling one at that. Just up and vanished. Others say she ran off with another Fae," Bracken whispered, her eyes shifting side to side as though waiting to be caught and condemned.

Unwilling? "I would have done anything to have her." And he did by his own admission. He had confessed his reputation for unbecoming behavior but never expanded on what that meant. What had he done?

"What happened after that?" Sarah asked, rinsing the berry juice off her hands.

"Nothing. He stopped attending court. Stopped hosting. He withdrew from society completely." Bracken sighed. "I do miss cooking for them big feasts. Always a challenge."

"I see, " Sarah replied sullenly. She grabbed a muffin from a basket on the shelves behind her. "I should probably get going before he wakes up. I wanted to visit the gardens I've seen from the balcony. Can you give me directions to them?"

"I can takes you there if you'd like," offered Hoggle. He didn't like the look of her countenance. Worried. Tired. Not at all the girl who arrived here.

"No, thanks. I just need a bit of space and fresh air." She needed to think. To breathe outside of Jareth's room. Outside his presence.

They told her the quickest way, exchanging glances as she walked out of the other door.

"She doesn't look too good," said Bracken, rolling out a sheet of chilled dough. "Hope she's not catching what the king has."

Hoggle's concern only grew as he realized he was not the only one to notice the change in her. If he had known the toll this would take on her, he never would have brought her back.


Sarah passed through the herb and vegetable garden, under a small orchard, and found the path under a stone arch that led to gardens she had seen from Jareth's room. The path she was on opened up to a large area, divided into many different routes, allowing one to circle or serpentine the garden at their leisure without repeating their course.

Wildflowers grew haphazardly in sections separated from the path by small rock walls. Each one like a lush meadow found only after driving hours outside a city. The varieties of flowers and grasses would be so beautiful in the daylight but now were all awash with the blue light from the moon who still shone for now.

It was so different from the other gardens she had seen. Those had been cultivated and curated. Each flower separated and kept to itself. This, however, was stunning chaos.

Her sandaled feet crunched on the hard-packed path. She stopped in front of a tree blossoming into white flowers. A small creature peered down from a branch. Its large eyes blinked at the early morning intruder. It had the short stubby face of a bat but the body of a squirrel. Its tail was long and slender except for the tuft of hair at the end.

She broke off a bite of muffin and handed it up to the tiny creature. Greedily, it approached, snatching it from her fingers and cooing as it nibbled viciously at it. This world was so confusing. Nothing was ever what it seemed.

The labyrinth rumbled in the distance like it was lazily stretching its limbs at the beginning of another long day. The air smelled of misty dewed bouquets as she walked. Her head pounded as her thoughts slipped over her time in The Underground. She loved this weird world with its strange creatures and changing landscapes. She wanted to stay as long as possible but she couldn't help but feel that she hadn't accomplished anything during her stay so far.

Jareth's sleep seemed more disturbed. He was weaker during his short waking hours. In fact, he only seemed to be getting exponentially worse. She kept opening up old wounds for him without the least bit of healing to his current illness. Once again, she was failing.

It was just like her to storm right in, full of optimism, and end up defeated. Determination her only tool. She hoped here it would be different. That her triumph from her last journey to The Labyrinth would bleed into this one. It was the one place she had been the victor. And selfishly, she needed this win as much as he did.

Was she was doing everything wrong? Maybe she should go home? Maybe then he'd get a real healer.

Could she leave though? Knowing she may not have done everything in her power to help him? Could she abandon him in his hour of need? Could she ever return to a life without him?

She bent down, touching the delicate flowers of a bright pink foxglove with the tips of her fingers. A distant rhythm of grinding gravel against feet stopped her ruminations as she awaited to see who–or what–approached.


Torren checked the list in his hands, scanning the garden for any pests or repairs that needed to be dealt with. If he found one fairy, Hoggle would find himself scrubbing the bridge near the bog if the king ever found out. Just because the king has exercised his right to delegate his duties, didn't give leave to the rest of them to become lackadaisical in their obligations. He refused to let the castle fall into disrepair as His Majesty dealt with whatever it was he was doing up there with that mortal.

He walked the path as he did every morning making a note that the marble statues needed to be cleaned again. He liked to be up before the sun. Moving outside while the world awoke around him. He would spend the rest of the day at his desk answering correspondence, managing the day-to-day runnings of the kingdom, and tactfully avoiding any and all invitations. His morning walks around the grounds were the only peace he had during the day. Until today.

Leaving the hedge mazes with their immaculate topiaries and statues, he rounded the corner into an expansive area he had dubbed "The Rampants." Why His Majesty had ignored his designs for an exquisite garden with manicured lawns and raised beds, for mundane wildflowers mixed without any rhyme or reason was beyond him, but such was life with an eccentric monarch. It was not for him to argue, only to follow where the king's whims led him.

He stopped as he saw a figure across the garden. A woman, wrapped in a blanket hunched over examining a flower. For a second, he thought one of the junk people had meandered their way out of the trash heap in search of something new to add to their back-breaking collection. As she stood up, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, he realized The Champion was once more interrupting what should have been a peaceful respite.

"Oh, good morning, Lord Chamberlain," Sarah greeted him with a forced smile.

"Champion." He nodded in her direction, eyeing her curiously. "Are you lost again?"

Her smile waned, feet shifted as she found a lone pebble on the path to stare at. "Physically? No. What are you doing out here?" she asked.

His bespectacled eyes glanced at his checklist. "Inspecting the grounds for security breaches as well as maintenance issues."

"In the dark?" Her brows raised dubiously. While the moon was still bright enough to cast its glow allowing one to maneuver without injury, she couldn't help but wonder if it was adequate for his needs.

"The sun will be up shortly." He shrugged then felt the need to continue as she persisted with her incredulous expression. "However, some pests such as various sylvestres glow at night. We try to keep them out of the gardens and castle grounds. They tend to harass the goblins into unmanageable anarchy."

"Slyvestres?" Her head cocked to the side as she hugged her arms around herself. She tapped at the pebble, pushing it out of the way for future travelers.

"Pixies and fairies." He waved the feathered end of his quill as he checked off a few items on his list. He looked her up and down. "Why are you wandering about alone and in your night clothes again?"

Torren did not know how things were done in her world but perhaps a lesson in decorum wouldn't be amiss. A quiet comment to Phaedra and Aoife may just inspire them to gently nudge the mortal in the right direction all the while allowing him to stay far away from any and all involvement. He'd already interacted with her far more than he liked. He had no desire to distract her even further from the duties and obligations she was already clearly ignoring.

She sighed. "I needed to think. Some space. And I was–well–I was actually wondering if I should go home." There it was. Out in the open. Her own doubts voiced aloud ready to be endorsed by another, allowing her to lean on their opinions so she could make the hard decisions easier.

The Lord Chamberlain stopped his inspection of a small wall. Had he heard her correctly? She was considering leaving His Majesty? Returning to her home? Conflicted, as usual, he wasn't sure which was worse; having her here or dealing with the king once she left.


Jareth rolled onto his side, his eyes opening to spy on his Champion as she slept. His favorite vision was to watch the way her skin changed and glowed through the transition from moonlit night to the golden rise of dawn. But the window seat where she usually slept was empty, the blanket thrown back without care as it hung precariously off of the ledge.

He sat slowly, searching the room for any sign of her. It was unlike her to be up so early since moving in. They rose with the sun, starting their day in their steadfast routine. He felt bereft without it which was ridiculous, bordering on pathetic since he had managed for centuries without it. Without her.

But he needed her. The vicious pain was always lulled to manageable levels in her presence. And moreso, he wanted her presence. Her absence creating a new pain. An ever-present ache when she was gone. Where was she?

A dreamlike vision of Sarah sneaking to the door played through his mind. She was slipping cookies to creatures that should not have made it to the threshold. The memories she kept pulling through his barriers, made it impossible not to compare what little he remembered of Brigid with what he knew of Sarah. Perhaps if he had been patient, waited a few centuries…

Anger and disgust flared in his chest, his cheeks seared with shame. How could he even entertain such thoughts?

He felt a pull. Drawn to the balcony. He hobbled across the room, leaning heavily on furniture. Stumbling like a newborn fawn testing out its legs for the first time. He knocked into an end table, the books, and knick-knacks that had resided atop it scattering onto the cold wooden floors. His feet dragged, unwillingly propelling him forward towards the French doors that led outside.

By the time he leaned against the railing, he was panting. Sweat misted his brow. His vision swam as dizziness overcame his senses.

When he opened his eyes, they focused not on the reddish hue creeping over the horizon nor the northern stars still shining overhead, but on the small figure below him in the garden. He didn't feel the stars' distance as she shone brighter than any thing in the heavens.

Her pale skin reflected the early morning light. Her hair hung free down her back. She was beautiful even in her tousled state. He saw Torren approach and thought he saw her cheeks raise in smile on her profile. And he coveted that smile. Wanted it all to himself though he was undeserving. He shouldn't even be capable of such feelings. And yet he felt them all the same. With intensity and fervor. Which made his self-loathing all the more palpable and warranted.

He watched the two converse. Wondering what they said. Wishing he was the one receiving all her attention. Glaring as he cursed himself even more for his weakness.


"What do you mean going home? If you left there would be no one to care for His Majesty." Torren tucked his parchments under his arm giving the mortal woman his full attention now that he knew her wayward thoughts would trickle down to affect him directly.

"Maybe he would finally see a real healer–" she started without any true conviction.

"You are the only one he's allowed near him. Once he has decided something, there is no going back. You are the only one who can help him," he stated as though it was obvious.

Sarah shook her head, tears threatening her vision. "I don't think I'm up for it anymore. Nothing I do seems to help."

Shadowed movement caught Torren's eye. His gaze lifted taking in the pale, gaunt visage of his once powerful monarch. His breath hitched as he saw Jareth for the first time in weeks. He had no idea how quickly his health had deteriorated. He was sure now that Sarah's fears were no mere fancy of exhaustion but true despair. But he also knew that the King would never call for a healer. This girl was his only chance.

"Pssh–you are The Champion. The only one to have ever beaten him at his own game. You expect me to believe this self-pitying drivel?" He spun her around. "I believe in your power even if you do not. And I also believe that your patient is running out of patience this morning. May I suggest you speak to him of your qualms?"

Sarah's heart lurched as their eyes met. He was as pale as a ghost. Even from this distance, she could still see the shadows under his eyes as he glared down at them. If she didn't find a cure or a way to help him, he would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Jareth grappled his way to the bathroom, white knuckles gripped the edge of the black marble counter. This was too much. The feelings coursing through him backed him into a corner, pushing his fight or flight response. He could not fight himself and yet, could not send her away.

He stared at himself in the mirror, pajamas hanging off his frame. Shadows lining his face. Everything that ever made him powerful and strong was gone. His handsomeness, prowess, and magic all lost because he fell in love with the wrong woman.

How can you even think that? Believe that? How can you throw those feelings away–centuries of yearning and devotion–tossed aside after a few weeks?

He tried for years to accept his fate. His own foolishness. But he knew now, had he but waited. Had he the patience. Sarah could have been his. They could be together. Now whatever time they had would be squandered. Wasted as he fell further and further into the abyss of his affliction unable to pull himself out. Dragging her down with him as she blindly tried to help. He was too much of a coward to let her go now but could he condemn her as well?

He should have stolen her after her victory. They could have had years rather than weeks. But would it have been the same had he forced her to stay? Wasn't it better that she was here of her own volition? Would he have cared years ago?

Red streaks peeked out from the collar of his nightshirt. Unbuttoning it, he saw the marks that encroached on his neck, ready to strangle the last breath from his broken body. He picked up a silver tray dumping the soaps and scents scattering to the tiled floor. He drove its edge into the mirror, over and over, wishing the world around him would fall apart. As a roar ripped from his throat, his fist slammed into the shattered glass slicing his knuckles. Blood dripped down his hand, the red rivulets joining the striations that covered his forearms.

Sarah rushed to the bathroom as she heard a ferocious din coming from inside. Throwing the door wide, the cracked mirror reflected a multitude of Jareths each one staring at his bleeding fist. Rage radiated around him.

"Oh my god, Jareth. Your hand." Grabbing a towel, she wrapped it around his hand trying to staunch the bleeding, her shoes crunching on the broken glass. "Your feet. Don't move."

She hurried to retrieve his slippers and the hand sweeper, hoping his feet weren't cut to ribbons. What was going on? What brought on this fit of violence? Was he thinking of her ? Of Brigid? Of course, he would be volatile after she made him talk about her. She should have known this would happen. She could fix this. First things first. Clean up the glass and clean his hand. Then breakfast and they could talk about healthy ways to deal with feelings.

She knelt by his feet, laying his slipper in front of him. "Here put these on." She took the sweeper and started brushing the fragments away from him.

"Sarah, stop." The sight of her at his feet, laboring like a servant was more than he could bear at the moment.

She ignored him, creating a small pile allowing them a safe space for now. She'd come back with the dustpan later. Standing, she gently unwrapped the towel from his hand and turned on the sink. "What were you thinking?" She pulled his hand under the running water.

Jareth pulled back as she pushed his sleeve up his arm. Flinching as he watched her eyes widen in shock and horror.

"What the hell? Jareth, what is this?" Her eyes roamed over him. Her hands grasped the front of his shirt and yanked it open, buttons popping with a staccato clinking as they sprinkled the floor.

Her fingers traced the angry scarlet streaks that ran the lengths of his chest and abdomen. His anger began to dissipate with the roaming of her fingertips. She pulled his shirt over his shoulders and he shrugged out of it, relishing the softness of her hands. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him, craving relief. Craving her.

She stiffened in his arms, wanting to melt against him, but unsure what to do or what was happening. Tears spilled from her eyes. She flattened her palms against his chest, his skin warm, and pushed away though every ounce of her wanted to stay.

"Jareth, you have to tell me what's wrong with you," she whispered.

His thumb brushed a tear from her cheek. "No." He dropped his arms from her, picked up his shirt, and used the reserve of strength from her proximity to retreat to his bed.

Grabbing another clean towel, she followed watching him conceal his ravaged body. He tugged the sleeves down to his wrist. She sat on the edge of his bed, reaching over him to wrap his right hand in the clean terry cloth. "I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

"I told you before. There is nothing you can do." He tried in vain to pull out of her grasp.

Her hands clutched his, applying pressure to his battered knuckles to staunch the bleeding. She pleaded with him one more time. "If you'd just tell me–"

"Sarah." His eyes were drawn in by her teeth nibbling on her lower lip as he silenced her. He sighed. "I'm not sick. I'm dying."


Notes: Dun dun dun...everyone okay?

Alright, so I have one more chapter written. I like to think of it as the season 1 finale. A few housekeeping notes. I am using October to prep for NaNoWriMo. So far, I have all of this story outlined. Which I've always known what will happen but now I have it all laid out on color-coded sticky notes on a whiteboard. See tumblr for details and pics. lol. I'll be posting updates about my progress there as well tagged preptober or NaNoWriMo on my blog.

I am going to repeat the process on the back of the board for Thorns.

My plans are to get another chunk of chapters written. I will be writing only for November and December for that reason but also so I don't have the pressure of posting during the holidays. I hope to have more consistent updates in January for both stories. As always, if you are enjoying this story, let me know. I love hearing from y'all.

Next Time: The Champion Makes a Promise