Wishes

Chapter 8. A Truce. Dancing in a Mines Field…

By mikim

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Standard Disclaimers Apply. Songs belong to their rightful owners.

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Yah! So happy! Dawn, one of my favorite writers, left me a review! Yah! People out there, if you want a story really worth your time, read hers! (Happy Anniversary is really good so far! Smutty and all, just like I love them! Read it!)

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A.N.: This story is far (really far x 1,000,000) from behind finished. Sarah still needs to learn a little more of Jareth's world. So, please hang on with me! By the way, if you want to see the "map" I've "done" of Jareth's domain, tell me and I'll mail it to you. I had the hardest time to describe it!

I will leave my place for ten weeks (I'm going to an internship in London) therefore, I highly doubt I will be able to post anything until the day I come back, meaning the 10th of September.

Please, please, please, forgive me! I know some of who frown down at the way I update (or so rarely update, some would probably think) but I love writing, I really do and I really don't want to leave this story like that, because it would leave, not only you but me too, unsatisfied and probably frustrated and irritable.

So, please, hang on with me, and forgive me! And I do promise to take my notebook with me to work out the whole story on paper!

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Melanie Richmond was worried. More than that, actually. She was completely freaked out and there was nothing she could do: the information had already leaked out, with some photos at proof for the veracity of the information given out. Her King would not deny her the fact she had tried her best to protect his lady… But her name, along with the name of where she worked were currently posted on the internet. Sarah Williams she was called.

Melanie sighed, letting her head fall in her cupped hands, her elbows wearily resting on her desk, at work. What would she tell her King? She had failed him once more.

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Jareth had left for less than one hour, but Sarah was already missing his presence like a cruel reality and in the meantime, feeling happier than she ever had and it was weird. She was in her living room, his music in a soft background, and was making a fool of herself in her apartment. Dancing like mad, her arms wide open or turning on herself, laughing in glee like a child.

The little time Jareth had spent with her, after that he had agreed to date her, had been awkward and embarrassing as she didn't know how to react. Jareth on the other hand, had been too aloof to be true. He had probably been as nervous and uncomfortable as she, but had hidden it better. Sarah didn't remember the last time she had felt so gauche… Her eyes had kept shifting to his lips without her consent and her hands seemed to have a mind of their own, as they had constantly sought his.

Sarah giggled like a schoolgirl. She was dating Jareth. Oh, she knew why she had felt so awkward and just thinking about it again, made her blood rush to her pretty face, turning it an interesting shade of red. Jareth and her had both agreed on not getting physical before they each knew what they wanted from the other and made it crystal clear. Even if they had already spent one of the most intimate moments two strangers could, they had both agreed on going slower this time around and Sarah wasn't one to complain.

Now that he was gone, she had let her joy explode and the excitement rush still hadn't left her and so she danced and laughed.

Sarah kept on playing for a while till her eyes caught her wet bag lying carelessly near her front door and she suddenly remembered Millibel and the small leather book. Sarah rushed to it and quickly opened it: she needed to tell Millibel!

I have the most wonderful thing to tell you!!!!! She wrote, excited, her letters big and her pen quick leaving half-formed letters on the soft white paper.

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It actually took quite some time to get Millibel satisfied, as Millibel had fired Sarah questions after questions. But as soon as Sarah had finished telling Millibel what had transpired between Jareth and her, after discarding the small pang of guilt, as Jareth had wanted it to be secret, but as she reasoned with Millibel, to whom could Millibel tell her secret, when Millibel's very existence itself was a secret, Millibel had given Sarah the impression of a big fat cat, licking its whiskers; dripping of cream, perfectly content.

Sarah put the pen down, with a smile, leaving Millibel to gloat happily. Jareth's older sister had been as excited as Sarah, if not more and proud of herself, since, like she had pointed out to Sarah, she was the main matchmaker in this story. Because if not for her, Sarah would have never listened to Jareth's songs carefully enough to understand the meaning heading to her and Millibel kept on and on, but Sarah didn't mind at all and let her gloat all her content.

Nothing could touch her, that night. Jareth and her were dating, her director had protected her against the parents' complaints of her indecent behavior. Sarah danced her way to her kitchen, a fool's grin plastered on her lips, and looked for something to eat.

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Later that evening, while the moon slowly climbed up the starry sky, attracted by the sound of hundreds blasphemies thundering in the kitchen, Sariel strolled in it curiously, the book he had been reading in hand. There, he found an Iome ready to kill, her angry little fists on her shapely hips, her blue eyes sending bolts of lightning, as she gazed intently at the fridge door, unaware of his presence.

However, of her string of curses, each in one of the dozen languages and dialects existing in the Underground , Sariel repeatedly caught Jareth's name, therefore, he guessed Jareth was the cause of the release of the fury in the Hacienda.

Sariel walked behind her and peered down over her shoulder: on the fridge door, a hastily written message, and by the handwriting, from Jareth, was saying. "I need to go back home for a while. Don't wait for me, I'll be back tomorrow morning."

Sariel raised an eyebrow, surprised, as Jareth rarely went back without telling them before, and checked the calendar: once a week, since they had come Aboveground, Jareth would go back to his Kingdom to make sure everything was alright, but it usually happened on the Wednesdays, Aboveground days, and they were still Monday.

Iome was still swearing her pretty head off and Sariel threw a quick glance at the chores planning they had set up for the house and realized that Jareth was supposed to cook for them that night and he smiled. That was why Iome was so furious: unexpectedly, Jareth was cooking quite well, something he had never bragged upon, and Iome looked forward each of the meals he prepared, like a child would Christmas.

Sariel rolled his eyes and turned around to sit at the table, to go back to his reading. Iome fumed for a little longer, then sighed and slumped in the chair opposite of him. Sariel tried to ignore her, but when she snatched him book, without a word, and crossed her arms under her breasts, pouting at him and glaring at him with those blue eyes of hers, as if he was responsible for Jareth's disappearance. Sighing, Sariel gave in and stood up. Without a word, Iome had made him start dinner.

As he started to prepare their meal, Iome sat at the kitchen bar, a brown copybook opened in front of her in which she furiously wrote. He rose an eyebrow at her, while rummaging through their fridge, while her blond head was bent over her work. He rolled his eyes at her and turned to the oven.

Without a word, Iome flicked the radio next to her on and classical music poured in. It was one of Sariel's favorite Chopin movement, but Iome abhorred classical music and she quickly changed of channel. "Selfish brat." She let through her gritted teeth and Sariel looked at her pointedly and the radio. Iome superbly ignored his silent scowl, as she picked another channel, and Sariel could only sigh as he turned back at the washing of vegetables.

"He's the King." He said finally, evenly.

But Iome still pouted. "A brat nonetheless." She dryly said. His back to her, Sariel smiled sadly. Iome's younger brother died when he was but a mere babe in complications at the childbirth and somehow, Iome had always felt guilty of being the only offspring alive. Then, when she had first encountered Jareth and his dual eyes, as the rest of the Imperial Court she had shunned him away. Iome was trying to make amends, to soothe imaginary wounds Jareth may suffer from her hand.

Jareth, on the other hand, had never truly understood the extent of Iome's guilt. He let her fuss over him, in her own pushy way, sometimes complaining loudly about it, as he had let his sister fuss over him. Both he and Iome knew that if Jareth really wanted it, he could make her stop. He was King, after all. It was more like a silent understanding between them, a need he recognized in her eyes and gently obligated her, without having it mentioned at least once.

However, since Millibel's death, her fussing over him had intensified, she always made sure to be wherever he was, to know exactly all the time where he was precisely and if she could have him in her sight, as if she feared he might disappear in a flash of light. It had loosened with time, but it still drove Jareth to disappear sometimes.

"Iome…" Sariel knew her better than Iome probably believed he did. Millibel Grace loved her very much, probably not as much as Iome would have liked, but still enough for Sariel, who had shared Millibel's bed to be jealous sometimes. And Millibel had no secret for Sariel.

In the little time, they had been together, she had wanted him to know everything she knew, to see everything she had seen and for him to share everything she did. It had pleased him at first, then he had become weary of it, as he had finally understood why she was doing it: leaving him a last legacy, as he would never be recognized as her husband.

In the eyes of the Imperial Court, Sariel would never be more than a preceptor to Jareth. Millibel had known it and when her death had come, only the Imperial family was allowed to bid her lifeless body goodbye. Millibel had been making him memories on which he could cling for when she would die.

Millibel had explained him the craving need Iome had of looking after those she cared after, sometimes to even choke them with her care. Sariel and Iome hadn't, at first, get on very well, sharing a competition over Millibel's affection and Jareth's education.

If Sariel won in Jareth's case, he was given the underhand with Millibel's. For years, they had exchanged words, sometimes even insults over Sariel's charge and Iome's friend. Iome always found something to say about the way Sariel educated Jareth and Sariel always was in her legs whenever Iome tried to plan something for her princess.

But again, Millibel's death had changed more than one thing and they had grown closer and closer to the point of being both overprotective of Jareth.

Sariel watched her, as he always had. He had been nicknamed the 'Watcher' and it defined his character quite well. So, as he watched over Iome, knowing full well that what she dreaded above all was for Jareth to abandon her.

Iome blew a bang of blond hair away from her eyes and grumbled, not raising her eyes from her work. "He could have told us in person!" Iome loved his cooking, but it was more for the fact of eating something he had done that she made sure to never miss a lunch or dish Jareth had produced.

Sariel gently shook his head. "You are being unreasonable." He told her in a gentle voice but Iome only drawled back.

"Shut up."

Sariel smiled sadly, as her answer lacked the usual biting tone. Iome was more hurt by Jareth's discreet disappearance than she let herself acknowledge. Sariel quickly cut the meat in even cubes and threw them in the awaiting pan. "You know, since we're here, I feel like we all share a deeper connection." He said carefully. He had been toying that thought for some time now, but had never voiced it.

Iome raised her eyes from whatever she was doing and quickly tucked a blond strand behind her left ear. "What do you mean?" She titled her head on the side, observing Sariel's sudden uneasy stance.

Sariel fell silent, as he made sure nothing burnt, pondering on how he wanted to phrase his feeling. It was uneasy for him to do so, servants, even preceptors to a Prince, rarely if never made part of their thoughts to the Lords and Ladies and Iome was a Lady, to the tip of her polished nails to the last hair of her pretty head. Despite her foul mouth, that was, he added to himself bitterly. Sariel could feel Iome's gaze on his back, waiting for him to explain and he shifted on his feet, uncomfortable. Could he really say that?

After all, she was nobility, he wasn't. As he added the vegetables, he stammered. "I mean… We look like more like a…" Sariel hesitated. He knew Iome for maybe fifty of above grounders years and yet, he still felt the distant barrier of their conditions. But Iome was also a friend, whatever the sheets, she had been born in, were and more, she had been Millibel's most trusted friend. "Family now, than before."

Iome blinked. It was rare for Sariel to speak so, he was always so awfully aware of the social distances that held between him and the rest of them. Even if, he had been the lover and husband, in the eyes of Jareth and herself and mainly Millibel, of an Imperial Princess, he still felt unworthy. Sometimes it had chagrined Iome and made Millibel's despair, as she had nourished a love for Sariel for many years, before she had summed up the courage to confess.

But Iome wasn't really good with feeling like that, she preferred irony. "Because we were a family?" She drawled. Sariel let a shaky laugh leave his lips, as he was taking a plate from the cupboards. Iome stood up and dressed the table. As, she set the plates, she said softly, without looking at him. "I understand what you mean, before, for me, Jareth was the King. Now, he's just Jareth."

Iome smiled. She remembered the cold look on Jareth's face, the first time Millibel had brought her Jareth's fortress. The icy look that had froze her to the bones, but she had covered it all with sarcasm and witty remarks. Jareth had only rolled his dual eyes and left.

Then, after she had learnt a little more on him, she had also learnt to appreciate him, his genuine care for his Kingdom and its inhabitants, his seriousness in his duties and total devotion to the little ones placed under his care. How perfect and almost unbreakable his mask was, she mused, but one woman, at least, had seen through it. One woman has found a creak in the armor. Iome sighed. She really hoped Sarah would dig her hole deeper in Jareth's heart, making it impossible for the latter to deny his love for her and perhaps, have a little happiness on his own.

Sariel mistook her silence for maybe scorn to be put at the same level of him and tried to correct things. "I've…" But Iome cut him sharply as he set the plate on the table.

Iome shook her head, as she finally placed a glass for the two of them, along with a water bottle. "I know, you old fool, you've always looked at him like he was your son." Sariel winced inwardly, but Iome caught it anyway. She reached out for his hand and patted it gently. "Sariel. Don't feel guilty." She smiled at him sorrowfully. "A man who merits the name of father is the one who raise and love a child, whether from his blood or not, and follow this child throughout his whole life." She told him gently.

But Sariel quickly said, his tone getting hotter. "Jareth is our Emperor's…"

Just as cold as his tone was getting angrier, she cut him again firmly. "He gave up that right long ago and you know it, probably better than the rest of us." Her hard gaze found his eyes and he couldn't deny her the truth. Their Emperor had never openly or so scarcely privately showed Jareth a sign of affection or recognition. Countless of times, had he comfort the young prince.

Sariel sat heavily in his chair. "It just that…" His voice fell, as his head lowered till his chin touched his chest. "Sometimes, I know Jareth would have preferred his father to be here, instead of me." He finally confessed. Sariel had sacrificed his whole life to Jareth. He would never have a son of his own, not that he wanted one, his life, his entire being, had seen the first minute he had laid his eyes on the small prince resolved around him.

Iome happily dug in Sariel's dish and served them both, as she said in an admonishing voice. "But you are the one he has kept by his side since the beginning, the only one." Iome smiled at him gently, her eyes lit up and her full lips felt like a sunrise. "I tag along because Millibel Grace was my friend." She pointed at him with her knife. "But you, you came for Jareth and he knows it." Iome shook her head once more. "Come on, old fool, don't start getting all sentimental on me. I don't have the time, I need to plan a party to get Sarah and Jareth together." She said with finality, as she dragged her copybook to her side.

Sariel picked up his fork and sighed. "Don't tell me you started your matchmaking…"

Iome smiled secretly. "Then I won't tell you."

"Iome." She then laughed.

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More than anything, Jareth liked to arrive by air to his Fortress. It was late a night, as he had taken longer than he had thought to fly to his Kingdom, the Illusion Isle.

His Illusion Isle had the shape of a half-moon with sharp and traitorous coasts, as if they had been cut with an axe from a bigger whole. The Outer Walls of his Fortress made round the whole island, shielding the inhabitants of the ravaging attacks of the Sea of Clouds waves. Going over the Outer Walls was strictly forbidden, as it was extremely perilous but none dared to walk outside the Walls anyway for it was too dangerous. The Illusion Isle city was spread inside the Walls, in each spikes of the island, with in its center, looming over the city was the King's Place. It wasn't actually a city, more like an extension of the castle, but not as refined at the King's castle. The people lived and traded in the lower grounds of their King's castle.

In the crisp cold air, Jareth could see the flickering lights burning in his subjects' homes, as he flew over them and, as each time Jareth saw the little number of them, he gritted his teeth in frustration.

The night was calm and cold, like it always was on the Sea of Clouds. Jareth turned his eyes to his castle, his home, separated from the common grounds by two black pillars, clashing with the whiteness of the surrounding buildings: the Pillars of Creation.

The one on the upper side of the Island was called the Beggar's Pillar, while its brother was called the Wizard's Pillar. On the top of each pillars, Jareth knew were two similar silver bells, which would ring whenever the King sat on the throne. They had rung for him for hours when he had been declared King, the powerful melody sending joy and glee, waking the city, as it had waited for a new King for more than three hundreds of the above grounders years. The Pillars were on each  sides of the Pretender's Gate, a huge black door, made of the finest wood, through which his people came to him for him to hear their grievances.

Jareth flew over the Pretender's Gate and he felt the tingling inquisitive magic of the Illusion Isle protection shields touch him, recognize him and bow in front of him. As silent as the night, Jareth landed carefully on one of the balconies and turned to face the Sea of Clouds a last time, smirking lightly. He was the only one who knew the secret of the Sea of Clouds and the connection to the Illusion Isle and why such magical land had been forgotten and relegated to the legends of the Underground.

He was home.

Jareth turned upon his heels and walked deeper in the dark Fortress, glad to be home.

But the Palace wasn't simply a castle, it had been constructed, carved in the walls of the Dragon Domain, a high volcano, standing proudly over the City. The volcano had been tamed by magic so that the palace and the city could be always provided with warmth, without the need of charging woods, as there were no forest on the Island.

The Palace was a delight for the eye: made of the purest white marble, it sorted out on the face of the cold-looking and dark volcano. It was like the day and the night, one so white over one so dark. The Palace counted hundreds of opened arches made of marbles, with pillars rimmed with golden threads and entwined with silver carved leaves, among flying birds and unearthly maiden. The carvings were the most delicate works Jareth had even seen but the knowledge of such work had long been lost to the tides of times.

Indeed, his kingdom was far older than it looked and had been created out of magic. No one held the knowledge of the spells the wizards and witches had cast to create such island for it was no ordinary island.

The Illusion Isle was more like a boat, sailing on the Sea of Clouds, always moving, and it hid more secrets that the eye met first as it was both a stronghold than a place of knowledge and beauty, and as every stronghold, it held deadly traps and illusions.

As he strolled in the grand dark halls, with only a few torches hanging here and there, casting a soft glow to the rooms, Jareth enjoyed the deep silence of the place. Unlike Aboveground, here there was no cars running all night, or helicopter flying loudly after a criminal, here in this land of magic and shadow there was only silence and calm. Jareth was aware that to an unknown eye, his Fortress seemed more like a dying place than a waking up castle and still it was the way.

In comparison to other monarchies, Jareth's hold on the throne was both recent and new, as the Illusion Isle had long been without a King. There were seldom people in the common grounds, but the size was growing each day, slowly but surely. His Palace had still hundreds of unoccupied rooms, lost to the dirt and the rumored ghosts lingering in them. But, as each time he strolled in his Palace, Jareth swore silently to himself to restore the grandness of his Kingdom.

Jareth wondered when his guards would find him. The Palace guardians, on the day he had mounted the Throne, had taken an oath to protect him, even to the cost of their lives and judging the sincerity of their vows the ancient magic ruling the Illusion Isle had granted them the ability to know always where their King was. And, just as he thought of them, Jareth heard the distant echo of running footsteps and barking dogs.

His dogs found him first. They were three joyful golden retrievers, with dark robes for one and fairer ones for the two others. They made him a happy welcome, jumping, barking and licking his hands for the smaller female, Opal, while the dark male, Obsidian gently bit his right hand, urging him to come and play, whereas the older female, Opium, rubbed itself against his leg, demanding caresses. Jareth laughed at their antics and greeted them all with pats and caresses.

Jareth only raised his eyes, when he felt the air change around him announcing him the Shadow Blades had found him.

Jareth stood tall and faced them all. They were eleven, men and women, dressed in dark, ready to melt in the shadows, if needed, a sword at their hips and he knew their bodies hid several other weapons he preferred not to know about, after he had seen what they could do. Their leader stepped forward and they all bowed deeply in front of him.

Only when they raised, did Kira, the Shadow Blades leader, talk. She was tall for a woman, taller than Sarah, maybe by an inch or two, he remarked, her hair were braided in the usual severe long braid, reaching her lower back. She was the deadlier of the Shadow Blades and acted as a tyrant when it came to his safety. As she straightened her back, Kira greeted him. "Lord Bane."

Jareth smiled as he started to walk deeper in the castle, his dogs playing around him, with the first half Shadow Blades falling into his pace for some, while the others, responding to Kira's discreet nod melted in the shadows in front and behind him, to make sure their King risked nothing. "Kira." He nodded at her in response. "How have been things during my absence?" He asked softly, watching her from the corner of his eye.

As he had expected it, Kira's brow twitched quickly, but she answered him in an uncommitted voice. "Everything has gone as you have ordered it, my Lord."

Jareth smiled to himself: Kira was against his plan and she had made her position known by her silent refusal to acknowledge it, but he was her King and she had bowed to his will in the end. "And the little ones?" He asked, as he strolled in the direction of his personal quarters.

Jareth caught a fleeting smile on one of the Shadow Blades face, a young man with dark hair and eyes, as Kira answered slowly. "Aurélien gave us a little trouble, he tried to morph but thankfully a Shadow Blade caught him before anything irreversible happened, Lord Bane." Jareth stopped in his track, and so did his ring of steel. Jareth wasn't fooled by their relaxed manners, as they strolled around him, he knew them all enough to be certain that should a threat arise, their weapons would be out of their sheath faster that he could create one of his crystals.

Narrowing his eyes, Jareth asked. "Did he get far?" Morphing was dangerous, as the wizard could get stuck with a wing and feather half his body, while the other half remained human. He had strictly forbidden each of his young charges to tempt morphing with a preceptor.

Kira shook her light brown head, her braid swaying left to right. "No, Lord Bane. We caught him at the earlier stage of morphing and forced him to undo what little changes he had started." She frowned a little, obviously still annoyed with the matter. "Master Edanial said not to punish him and rather to lock him in his room, under the non-magic spells to leave him ponder on his actions, Lord Bane."

Jareth smiled to himself again. Kira would have probably given the boy a stern lecture and a few slaps if he had fallen between her quick hands, but thankfully for the boy, Edanial, the old doctor had saved him. Kira obviously disapproved of his decision. "Anything else?" He asked again, dismissing the problem. He would get Sariel to visit the boy.

"Oh, a dragon hatched a week ago, Lord Bane." A smile spread on her lips, lighting up her face, making her look more like her years, as she was, in aboveground terms, in her late twenties only, but her grim look and cold face usually made her look way older than she truly was.

"Female?" Jareth inquired. He decided on visiting the magical beasts later that night. He knew the old dragon Icefyre wished for a golden female to be born, as the golden one was supposed to be the queen, since his old queen had died.

Kira shook her head once more. "Male, a bronze male, Lord Bane."

Jareth nodded and suddenly called, as he stopped. "Shadow Blades."

They all stopped around him and Kira said, inquiring his will. "Master?"

Jareth grinned. "I'll just go to my chambers, no need for you all to follow me." He studied Kira's face.

He saw her fists clench quickly before relaxing while she let through her teeth. "I'm sorry, Lord Bane, but this is impossible." She narrowed her eyes, as if daring him to give her the opposite order he knew she would ignore. "Wherever the Lord Bane goes, we go." Jareth could feel around him the agreement and the muttered oath the other Shadow Blades took when their leader did. Her tone was final and firm and Jareth couldn't help himself, as he resumed walking.

"Wherever, huh?" He asked.

Kira's back stiffened and the pace of the young Shadow Blades next to him lost some of its relaxed way, becoming tenser. "Except Aboveground, Lord Bane." Kira let through gritted teeth and Jareth laughed softly to himself. Kira had been violently against his plan to go aboveground. In fact, the extent of her fury had both shocked and stunned Jareth as Kira rarely, if never, displayed any emotions.

But, it was true the Shadow Blades couldn't leave the Underground, no matter how much they wished it, as their oaths, written in magic would lose its power in Aboveground and eventually kill them. Kira had proposed herself to be his only guard Aboveground, but Jareth had firmly refused it and had refused her the ability to cross portals. Kira had fumed and unattainable for days, but she had finally seen Jareth's reasons and bowed her anger to her King's will.

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Jareth closed the door of his chambers behind him quietly and leaned against it. The Shadow Blades had finally left him alone, but he was sure at least two of them were lurking around his door, while probably another pair was busy guarding the entrance of the only hall leading to the King's Chambers.

Only when the silence and darkness of the room caught up with him, did Jareth realize how much he liked that solitude, how much he despised the above grounders who took no time to savor what nature had provided them, taking everything for granted, sure they would have a second chance.

Jareth smirked and pushed himself off the door: second chances. That was the privilege of humans. Humans always believed they would have a second chance, the animal realm knew better. Shaking his head lightly, he also realized that he missed his soft blond locks brushing against his neck but he wasn't ready to let go of that sign of his mourning for his sister. Jareth stepped further in his reception room, opened the door leading to his boudoir, crossing it to finally reach his private space. till he faced the grand, man-sized mirror of his dressing room.

He wasn't sure he wanted to see himself, so he made sure to stay out of the mirror reflection path. Calling himself an idiot, Jareth stepped in front of the mirror. It was an exquisite thing, the rims made of white ivory, showing dancing sirens and laughing dolphins. Jareth carefully avoided his own reflection, as he let his hand run on the delicate carving. Finally, he turned his eyes towards himself.

He was dressed in dark, turning his pale skin even fairer, his blond hair almost white and in the pale moonlight flooding in the room, he looked more like an apparition than a human being, made of flesh and blood. He raised his right hand till he touched the reflected one in the mirror and let his eyes wander on his body: he was tall and not exactly skinny, but he wasn't fat either. Iome complained he was only bones and skin, but Sariel would say he also had muscles.

His short sleeves shirt let his pale arms be shown and Jareth observed them clinically: he could see the swell of his biceps and feel the restrained power of the magic coursing in his veins, which were swelled and easily noticeable. His eyes ran up his right arm till they reached his outstretched hand on the mirror: his hands were rather big, but he had long fingers, fingers that danced over a piano as skillfully as over a woman's heated flesh.

Jareth suddenly frowned and closed his hand in a fist, turning swiftly away from his reflection. Sarah was attracted to him, he knew, he could plainly see it: her blushes, her small gestures, her shy eyes and squirming fingers to the trembling of her smile. But he didn't know what had caught her in him.

Frustrated, Jareth ran a hand in his hair and realized with a jerk that he didn't wear any gloves, that he had touched Sarah without gloves. He turned his hand, palms up and stared down at them: what had he been thinking? Walking around without gloves, touching people without gloves! Thankfully for Sarah, they had been Aboveground, otherwise, his touch would have felt to her like a bolt of lighting, paralyzing her.

Groaning his annoyance, Jareth walked to his bed and slumped on it: it had been so long since he had last slept in the Illusion Isle heart and he yearned to sleep peacefully within his Palace comforting aura. Coming back always soothed him: when he could feel without concentrating, the course of magic in the air, when he could feel the earth beneath his feet pulse with life and force, where he could use his abilities without any restraints. He couldn't live Aboveground, like the Shadow Blades, eventually, the lack of magic would kill him.

So, what was he doing with Sarah? What was he expecting? Where would that thing with Sarah go? Would it just be a fling? And his annoyance at thinking Sarah just as a passing fancy surprised him. He tried to study his emotion: Sarah was a part of his life, after all, she had defeated him, marking him her presence would never completely leave him.

But Sarah had a life Aboveground. Frustrated with himself, Jareth pushed on his arms to stand up and angrily, he stomped his apartment till he reached the balcony, where, in a blink of an eye, he transformed into a snowy owl and flew away.

He would go and see the Dragons, as it had been long since he had last visited them. As he flew to the highest point of the mountain, Jareth smirked to himself: soon the Shadow Blades would realized through their link he no longer was in his chambers, but on the Dragon Mountain and they wouldn't be able to follow for the passage from the Palace to the Dragon Mountain was closed and sealed during the night. Kira would be seething.

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As he flew towards the top of the mountain, Jareth let his mind wander to the events of the late afternoon. After that they had agreed to date, Sarah had convinced him out of his drenched jeans, but while the dryer loudly worked in her bathroom, Jareth was clad in only a white towel, carefully wrapped around his narrow hips. Sarah had apologized profoundly on not having anything else for him to wear, but as she blabbered to him, he was far bigger than she was and she had no men clothes in her apartment. Jareth had stopped the flow of words by joking lightly he would have been kind of mad of finding men clothes in her shelves.

Sarah had been surprised at first, then she had blushed bright red and laughed lightly to cover her embarrassment.

What they had done after he could barely remember, they had talked that he knew but he couldn't, for the life of his, tell anyone what the topics had been since he didn't remember them. He had left shortly after Sarah had taken his clothes out of her dryer and drove back home, trying to convince himself he was fleeting.

But Jareth couldn't muse over what had transpired between him and Sarah any longer, as he encountered the first shield of the Dragon Domain and if he didn't displayed soon his identity the dragons would hunt him down. Therefore, he carefully opened his awareness of himself as the Illusion Isle King and spread it all around him, sending it waves after waves, making sure each and every one of them knew who was coming without a doubt.

As he climbed higher and higher to reach the Dragon Domain, the wind picked up stronger and stronger. Jareth softly cursed his choice of the snow owl, but he liked that bird, silent and graceful, a creature of the night. But its feathers were soft and a hawk's feathers would have taken him more swiftly to the top. But Jareth still kept on and finally saw his objective: a platform was oddly sticking out of the volcano. It would be there where Jareth would land, as it also was the only way for him to get in, since the top of the volcano had been closed with magic for the dragons to keep the warmth for themselves, instead of having it lost to the winds.

Jareth landed carefully on the windy platform and transformed quickly back to his humanoid form. The dragon of guard that night, greeted him with a deep bow of his long curved neck. The majestic animal was laying down the platform, taking most of it to hold its grand body. His skin was of brown leather, ready to face any type of weather and resist all kind of temperature. Its long neck, like a swan's one, was currently curved so that the big head was at the same level at Jareth's. Jareth nodded back to the dragon and entered the hall.

The hall was more like a cavern and several niches where dragons were carelessly sprawled, snoring. The dragons had a strong faith in their owns and each individual had no problem trusting another with his own life. Jareth had often thought such trust could reveal to be foolish since it could be used against them, but he had never said anything, for he respected them and knew far too well of their strength.

Jareth directly headed towards the center of the cavern where an old looking dragon was snoring loudly. His skin, once bronze and shiny, was used and several scars were running from the right shoulder of the animal to its big flanks. The dragon was sleeping curled like a ball, its big tail around himself, his neck curved around his big body. Jareth stopped next to the big head and smirked: the old Icefyre, Dragon Lord, taken by surprise. Shaking his head, Jareth sat down, leaning his back against the big paws and made himself comfortable, warming his limbs cold from the flight on Icefyre's body warmth when Icefyre surprised him.

"Making yourself comfortable, my King?" The big dragon asked, as he lazily opened an eye. Jareth could feel behind his back the cavern that was Icefyre's lungs vibrate as the dragon spoke in that deep voice of his.

Jareth looked up at him surprised and finally, his face broke into a small smile. "You knew I was watching you."

Icefyre moved a wing to make himself more comfortable and his mouth curved in what the dragons would define as a smile, showing off all those sharp teeth. "Indeed, I knew. In fact, I knew you had returned to the Underground, the minute you went through the portal." Jareth smiled sadly. He liked being there. Icefyre was his most trusted counselor, even before Sariel, when it came to matters of the state. But Icefyre rarely if never intervened in the way Jareth was handling the Kingdom.

"How's the new little one?" Jareth finally asked, letting his gaze wander on the rest of the cavern, but he couldn't see much, as it was nearly pitch black, if not for the light flooding from the entrance.

"He's fine." Icefyre answered and Jareth once more felt his answer rumble in his body. "He came just in time to take my place." Jareth raised a strange gaze at Icefyre's face to find the dragon watching him closely. "I'm old, Jareth, I will die soon. This little one will be my heir."

Jareth nodded slowly. When he had first came to this island, after that he had proved himself worthy, Icefyre had been the one to heal him and nurse him back to life. To do so, the dragon had taken Jareth's consciousness and awareness in himself, calling Jareth's soul, mind and heart inside his big body, while the magic of the Illusion Isle made wonders to repair the damages he had suffered.

But during that brief period of time, when being with Icefyre, Jareth had learnt what it was to belong somewhere, to feel duty of protecting others, to know the pain and sorrow of being unable to do anything but watch, to witness one's body slowly deteriorate as the time left its mark. Just like the rest of the Illusion Isle, the Dragon Domain was early empty. Icefyre had explained Jareth that during the time they had been without a King, some dragons died because there were enough magic to sustain their lives. The dragons had gone on, till one of their lords decided to put all of them into a deep sleep, all safe one who would watch over the others but mainly wake them up, when a new King would arise. Icefyre had been that guardian and he knew his time was coming closer to an end. Therefore, he was always gently nagging Jareth at the birth of a heir for the Illusion Isle Kingdom.

It was with Icefyre that Jareth had spent most of his time, after Millibel's death: he couldn't bear the stricken look on Sariel's face. The man had wandered through the Palace halls as if he had been amputated of half his body. Nor had he able to stay with Iome who had been bed ridden for days and weeks and when she had finally recovered, she had always been chasing him around to make sure he was well.

"What is bothering you, Jareth?" Icefyre nudged his arm gently with his enormous snout and Jareth smiled lightly and scratched the old dragon which won him a sigh of bliss.

"I'm not sure why Millibel sent me after her." Jareth answered eventually. Icefyre rested his head at Jareth's feet and stared up at him. Jareth dropped his hand and sighed. "I thought my sister had sent me Aboveground to confront my regrets and forget all about her and…"

Icefyre interrupted him. "Sarah?" He asked. He knew who Jareth was talking about, but not his reluctance at speaking the girl's name aloud when the other dragons were around. Even if Icefyre had countless of times promised the dragons wouldn't breathe to a soul what they had talked about, unless Icefyre said her name first, Jareth would never say it.

Jareth nodded slowly, his gaze slowly traveling around them, but none of the dragons seemed awake inside the cavern. "If that had been her intention," Jareth slowly resumed, "why had she chosen such songs for me to sing? I don't understand anymore." Jareth sighed and shook his head. Icefyre was the closest thing Jareth had as grandfather. Icefyre knew it and had been honored therefore, he had always let Jareth come to him to complain or just hang out as a person, not only as the Illusion Isle King. "I never truly dwell on her choices but now that Sarah had asked me about them…" Jareth hesitated, looking for his words but found none so he lamely added. "I just don't understand."

"I think, you're not thinking with your head." Jareth focused dubious eyes on Icefyre's twirling ones. Dragon's eyes were big and they endlessly twirl, light reflecting on each of the facets, as their eyes reminded Jareth of a crystal. "You're thinking with your heart, boy." Jareth frowned down at Icefyre and the latter chuckled: he had nicknamed Jareth boy and the latter hated it. Icefyre gazed for a while at Jareth, to see if he would understand what the old dragon meant. But as the stare and silence kept on, Icefyre said again, slowly, softly. "Feeling and faith leads to chaos and destruction when they reign in master over one's heart, as humans blindly follow them. Reason is the only solution to hold the peace, down here. But, then where would be the humanity?"

Jareth was clearly puzzled. The old dragon had a tendency to ramble a lot and Jareth failed to see where Icefyre wanted to go. "Icefyre, I don't…"

Icefyre gently cut him, by raising his voice a little. "It's alright to let your heart rule you, Jareth, but not to the point where it blinds you." The old dragon sighed and raised his head from the ground till it hovered over Jareth who bent his head backwards, as he followed Icefyre's movement with his eyes. "Follow your heart, boy, but with reason."

Jareth suddenly whispered. "What's love have to do with that?"

Icefyre looked down at him and his eyes twirled quicker. "Love has everything to do with that, as you say. But love isn't the only thing in your heart, Jareth." The twirling of his eyes slowed, as if sadness was overwhelming the old dragon, as he whispered to Jareth. "There is also pride and hate and anger. Dissect your feelings boy. It'll come to you easier."

Jareth shook his head. "I've already done that. But apparently I got it wrong because I had come to think Millibel wanted me to confront Sarah."

"Jareth." Icefyre said with resignation. "This is not about what you think your sister wanted you to do. It's about you." Icefyre put a small emphasis on the pronoun and kept on. "Be selfish and only think of what you really want.".

Jareth smirked and stood up. "I'm selfish, I'm a King. Time for me to go, old friend." The old Dragon shook his heavy head as Jareth changed into an owl, the both knew Icefyre was threading on a thin line, so very close to a locked part of his heart, Jareth would never let himself acknowledge. The bird that was the King saluted the dragon once with a shriek of its one and turned to disappear in the night. The dragon on guard roared at Jareth as a goodbye.

Watching him leave, Icefyre muttered to himself. "He would have made such a fine dragon." Shaking his head, Icefyre sighed and put his head back on the ground, settling back to sleep. "Too bad he's got crippled at a so young age in his heart."

The last thought that ran in Icefyre's awake mind was the feeling that his King had went through the portal again and so that Jareth had gotten back Aboveground.

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The next morning found Sarah smiling till her cheeks hurt. She greeted happily her colleagues and made her way to her class humming softly. The other teachers all shared a secret smile and went on their own way to their classroom.

The day was uneventful, except maybe for the small teasing Sarah had to go through at lunch, about her boyfriend from the other teachers. She had blushed prettily and they had all said they were happy she had finally found a suitor. Even the kids seemed to behave that day. Nothing big happened and Sarah was more than fine with that. Perhaps the only black point was that she had received no news from Jareth.

Sarah rubbed her left shoulder, as she walked through the teachers class, till the compartment with her name written on it. Leaving her heavy bag fall at her feet, Sarah opened it, still humming one of Jareth's song under her tone.

She was all alone in the teacher's class, as the others had already left. Sarah had had some difficulty to clean up her classroom today, as one of her little student had let his paint pot fall on the ground and it had taken Sarah a little rubbing to have it all removed.

Inside her compartment, Sarah was surprised to find a white envelope with her name written on it. Sarah smiled and reached out to open it, thinking that it was = a message from Jareth.

But before she could open it, Leigh, Mark's wife, called her name. "Sarah!" She exclaimed, "there you are!"

Sarah turned around and answered to Leigh's smile with one of her own. "Hey, Leigh, how was your day?"

Leigh's eyes twinkled, as she put her bag on the central table. "Fine, thank you, but I'm here to deliver you a message from your boyfriend, who just called." Sarah blushed and turned completely around to face Leigh properly. "He asked you to meet him on the Obsidian, in the harbor, at seven, tonight."

Sarah's smile could have illuminated the room and Leigh teased her about it. Sarah thanked the woman and the two chatted a little about what had happened the day before. Sarah apologized for the scene and explained to Leigh Jareth had been jealous when he had seen her in Mark's arms. Leigh laughed and told her that actually Jareth had more or less apologized for his behavior. As they were leaving the teacher's class, Leigh realized she had forgotten her car keys on her desk and made a dash run to it, waving Sarah goodbye. Sarah smiled at the departing woman, and remembered her husband, Mark, wasn't there today to bring them home as he had gone out on a meeting with some new teacher he was planning to hire. Sarah had often silently felt a pang of jealousy whenever she would arrive in Mark's office, where Leigh had her desk: the discreet looks and shared secret that emanated from these two were so sweet and full of love that it sharply pointed out what Sarah hadn't.

But not anymore! Sarah thought to herself as she smiled watching Leigh hurry in the corridors and she suddenly remembered the letter she still had in her hands.

Turning it curiously, Sarah ripped it open. If Jareth had phoned the school, he wouldn't have sent a letter too. The message had been typed and Sarah frowned, as she halted in the corridor. Since her bag was too heavy, she let it fall on the ground next to her feet, with a loud thump.

"Sarah Williams shouldn't plaster herself like she's doing on the King's leader, Jareth Bane, otherwise, bad things could happen to the gorgeous blond angel who feeds the old dog every night at seven sharp…"

Sarah's mind whirled and the world stopped moving for a while, while the threat replayed itself before her eyes, the words seemed to scream at her, laugh at her too and she could easily picture Toby in her mind, feeding Lancelot. Her breathing accelerated and without thinking, Sarah was running down the corridor, for all she knew was that she needed to reach her parent's home.

Leigh arrived just to see Sarah disappear behind the corner, obviously in a hurry and as she gazed down at her wristwatch, Leigh smiled.

It was 5:30 pm.

The threat Sarah hadn't realized she had let go of softly landed next to her forgotten bag.

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Yah, I hoped you like this chapter! I'm slowly introducing Jareth's world! Yeah! Please leave a little something in the review box!!