Author's Note: Just to remind you, Blah means dream sequence. As usual, this one is Sarah/Jareth.


She always appears out of nowhere, humming some kind of song. He wonders whether he should just watch her. It's a chance he won't have in the waking world. But then again he cannot touch her in reality either, therefore it behoves him to make the most of it now.

So he does.

He sneaks up behind her and grips her shoulders, making the poor child jump and cry out. Funny how he always thinks of her as a child, but there it is. He likes that. It's refreshing to find someone young and unselfconscious, someone who doesn't care if the world is a nasty, evil place so long as no one interrupts her personal view of its potential.

"You scared me! Mean thing!"

"Am I really? How tragic. You will have to train me better, then." Jareth knows exactly how she will react to that kind of teasing.

And Sarah does it- she blushes. Brick red and embarrassed, she hides her face in his shirt and digs her nails vengefully into his arm. "Stop it, Jareth. You know I don't like that."

"Don't like what, Sarah?"

She shifts in his arms, a little unforgiving and yet resting there so easily. Again, strange. And no reason why it should be! They've done this a million times in his dreams and he knows full well that Sarah will be wary of him for a few days and then forget it all when he gives her another present. Emeralds to match her eyes? Possibly. Why should the dream feel unnatural now?

"Why do you always make it seem like a game with us?"

This is not the usual script. Jareth doesn't like this. He draws back a little, imperiously lifting her face to look into her eyes. Tears! Dear God, what has he done now?

"Sarah, luv, I'm sorry. I was only joking. It's not a game, I promise." He tries to pull her close, to shower her with the soft kisses she deserves, but this time she will have none of it.

"Stop it!" Close to shouting is never a good sign. "Is that all you think about? I don't want that from you!"

"Want what?" Now the Goblin King is confused. He rarely is, and it only serves to make him frustrated, because he just cannot understand what she is talking about. Sure, his good little Queen didn't like to even consider any form of 'toys' or 'games', but she puts up with the teasing. She knows him too, and Jareth will never make her do something she doesn't want. "I am not sure I follow you."

"It's not a game," she repeats, breaking away and going to the window, "It's not about obedience, you know. I don't want a slave or a master."

"I should hope not," Jareth says tartly, "You will get neither."

"Really?" Green eyes, not so innocent, not so bright, staring at him as that beautifully preserved memory suddenly hops up onto the windowsill. "I'd never have guessed, what with the way you act."

"How do I act? And get down from there, you silly woman! Do you want to fall and break your neck?"

Sarah just looks at him. And lets go.

The Goblin King's eyes fluttered as he came to his senses. He didn't bolt upright; he didn't move a muscle. But he was stiff and his back hurt.

He lay there for a few minutes, luxuriating in the relief of finding the entire thing just a nightmare, wilfully overlooking the knowledge that she was dead in any case. He didn't want to think about that. She wasn't dead to him. A part of her still lived on- in his head, in her legend, in Toby.

Toby!

He sat up this time and groaned, rubbing the grit of sleep from his eyes.

He would have to do something about that man or there would be hell to pay. Luka was refusing to compromise and Jareth had his suspicions. One of the little-known advantages of sleeping with whatever crossed his path was a propensity to gathering all the little rumours that the general public never heard. And rumours there were, plenty to be had about that little trip across the Sea.

"Bloody fool," the fae snapped. Moving cautiously, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rested for a moment. But there was no help for it; he would have to get up.

Clothes; teeth; sword; out. In that exact order. He might look as incongruous on a training ground as everyone said but he'd be damned if he didn't spend a few pleasurable moments of his morning pretending to kill someone. Luka? Perhaps. Toby? No, no point in killing the mortal brat. Sarah?

He stopped on the stairs and grimaced. The very thought was revolting. Not Sarah, then. But someone. Gildred! Ah, now there was someone he could kill. And he didn't even need an immediate reason, per say. The outlaw had tried to assassinate him, ruin his kingdom, cause harm and destruction… there was nothing that Gildred had not done that Jareth could not hate.

The sunlight lipped gently over the horizon, just as it had always done since the beginning of this reign of power. But it was cold. Neither sun nor moon existed in the Underground; there was only the light and the dark. Many believed it was the sunlight from the earth sphere that penetrated to the Underground. Many others pointed out- quite reasonably- that the earth sphere always experienced day on some part of the globe and therefore the Underground would never have night if that were true.

Jareth didn't care either way. Especially, as he morbidly reminded himself, when he could still see those green eyes as Sarah jumped. He didn't understand it.

A low harrumph sounded from the stable and unthinkingly he followed it.

The large mare was staring worriedly at the door of her stall when he came in, bits of hay still in her mane and tail swishing uneasily. She snorted at him and bobbed her head.

"What is it, Serenity?" He really was not in the mood for her. Not yet. "What do you want?"

She said nothing.

The Goblin King sighed and went to her, stripping off his gloves to scratch her between the ears. "I suppose you know about the dream? No, you're not telepathic; you would not know. But you guess, don't you? Am I that obvious?"

She bobbed her head again and then nuzzled against his shoulder.

"Traitor. Here." He conjured up a crystal and turned it into a peach. Horses were not supposed to be given peaches, but it was the one fruit that he could turn his magic to and so far Serenity had been quite accepting.

No more than ten minutes later, Elban shaded his eyes as he stared out of window. "Beran, is that what I think it is?"

The dwarf groaned and rolled over.

"Beran!"

"What do you want?"

"Jareth has taken Serenity out."

"Congratulations to the both of them," Beran grumbled, "Sleep calls."

"Exactly! I don't think he was able to answer."

Two very red eyes slitted open and glared with whatever strength of personality they could summon up at the forest sprite. Considering Elban was standing with his back to the bed, Beran's glare was not of much use. So he contented himself in just ignoring whatever it was his lover was talking about.

Not an easy task when said lover would not quit. "He still has those dreams. I know it. That look in his eyes says everything he won't."

"There is no look in the Goblin King's eyes," Beran mourned, "Elban, stop. Please! My head in trying strenuously to fall off my neck and my eyes are burning coal. Let me sleep."

"Fine. Sorry."

Ah. That frigid tone of voice. Beran knew that voice. It was the voice that told him Elban's slow anger was dangerously close to being aroused. It was the voice that told him a separate room would be asked for. It was the voice that told him he would not be allowed anywhere near his beloved forest sprite for the rest of the week until Elban decided he had been deprived enough. The longest record for that was two years.

Beran thumped the pillow and sat up, closing his eyes against the light that speared through his hung-over brain. "But as I am already awake, my lovely, why don't we just talk now. What look?"

Tense shoulders relaxed and this time Elban turned. He hopped up on the sill, almost gave his lover a heart attack in the process and continued on with a huge smile of delight at being listened to. "I suppose 'look' is the wrong word. But he is looking tired and strained. He's lost weight… well, whatever was left on him to lose without instantly dying of malnutrition, and he has developed a rather bad habit of losing his composure."

"I see." Beran didn't.

"Yes. And now with Jervohl to care for and this business with Toby. The Lady Pandora spoke with me yesterday. She says that Toby was in need of someone to educate him."

The dwarf frowned- as well as he was able- and blinked. "But what about that fae of his? Luka, was it?"

Elban snorted. "A fine person to take care of any kind of coming-of-age ritual! He is far too selfish. Not the sort of person I would let any child or ward of mine be friends with."

"Oh, he is not that bad!"

"No, he is! Believe me, I know."

"You know. How do you know? Oh, my head!"

Elban wandered over to the bureau, rooted around in the second drawer and came out with a long, thin twig. He tossed it to Beran and then turned his mind to answering the question. "Chew on that. It will ease the headache. Luka was a good friend of ours, you know. Well, about fifty years ago. But he was rather an idiot. Never could think of anyone but himself."

"So does Jareth."

"Yes, but Jareth is…" Elban stopped sheepishly.

Beran just grinned at him and continued to chew, urging him to continue with a mocking hand.

"Jareth is Jareth," Elban said simply, "It is just the way he is. It is not selfishness, so much as a complete disregard for anyone else. He just hasn't found anyone worthy of his notice. Or he did, but she wouldn't notice him in her turn."

"That love story has been taken out of all proportion," Beran growled disparagingly. Whatever the twig was, it certainly was a life-saving remedy for hangovers. Beran's slightly overlarge head was no longer trying to live its own life as a separate entity. "He loved her. She loved him. There was a misunderstanding and they parted. She died. There have been a thousand like it and there will be a thousand more."

"Yes, but this is Jareth!"

"You have an unhealthy fascination for our King, my lovely. Dare I be jealous?"

Elban scowled in return and yanked open the closet door. Hastily pulling out clothing at random, he threw them on the bed and began to change. "Yes. Because all these thirty-eight years that we have spent together were ones that I spent waiting for Jareth of all people to realize that I loved him completely and totally and against all odds. Really! Of all the stupid things to ask! We're friends, Beran. It is possible for friends to have no interest in each other."

"This is Jareth," Beran echoed blandly, "The man has all the morals of a bisexual koern in mating season. Anything and everything goes. Except for incest, necrophilia and pleasure slaving."

Hands paused in the act of lacing up a pair of tan leggings. "You forget bestiality."

That had been meant as a joke, but Beran was in the mood to be brutal and honest. Also, contrary. "No, I have. That fae spends far too much of his life as an owl. Do owls not have mating instincts?"

"In which case he is not indulging in bestiality!"

"He is still himself, is he not? Therefore sex with an animal constitutes bestiality!"

"What are you trying to say about him? I will not have this kind of insult about any of my friends, Beran. You are his subject, and you are currently enjoying his good favour and his hospitality. Don't you dare start prying his life apart!"

"I did nothing of the kind until you insisted on discussion your friend's love life with me. I do not care! I never have cared! He could sleep with a chicken for all it matters. I know he has bad dreams. I know he is still in love with a dead woman. And Good God, if I have to keep talking about every nuance of his bedevilled moods for the next two weeks I will go mad!"

The two were so intent of arguing and shouting that they never heard the knock at the door.

Toby eventually just gave up and made a fist.

The entire corridor must have heard the hammering after that.

"What?" Elban snarled, yanking open his shuddering door and ready to strangle whomever it was.

The mortal blinked down at him. "Jareth asks the both of you to eat breakfast with him. Apparently, he can't stand any of his guests apart from us and so he will not eat with them."

Elban took a large breath and turned back to Beran. The dwarf was getting sulkily out of bed, wrapping the sheets around his waist in deference to their guest. Not that Toby was looking; dwarves in general reminded him too much of Hoggle and that would have been like spying on a member of his family bathing. He was above that sort of thing.

"I am going down," Elban murmured, "When I return, it will be to collect my belongings. I am certain Jareth will have a room spare."

"Elban, this is entirely unnecessary," Beran growled. The glare in dark eyes glittered to smoky depths; appealing to the sprite's good sense was not working. "The rooms have already been allotted, Elban. Jareth will have no spare rooms for you."

"Then I will sleep in the cushion pit in his throne room," Elban snapped, "Anywhere without you!" And he was gone, sweeping away in his slender way to stalk down the corridor.

Toby nodded in an expressionless sort of way, holding himself back from getting involved. It would not do to interfere in someone else's relationship. And Beran looked as if he might break the mortal's kneecaps if he tried. So Toby shut the door very quietly on the seething dwarf and went back downstairs.