CHAPTER TWENTY THREE - IN A SEA OF FACELESS IMITATORS

When they reached the door, Sarah could still hear music being played. "It'll be just about another thirty seconds or so. You look lovely milady." She didn't feel lovely. The corset itched and her stomach was queasy. "Don't be nervous, I shall meet you again inside." Turgomon kissed the back of her hand before ducking into the shadows. Sarah adjusted her posture and breathed deeply when she heard the music stop. As promised the doors opened slowly and on their own. It was mere seconds of silence, but it may as well have been an hour. Her eyes scanned the crowd, never moving her head. Jareth looked solidly at her, his face expressionless. Off in the back of the room she saw Tiberon fixed on her as well, his face, far less stoic, smiling at Sarah in awe of her appearance. The blare of a horn caused all heads to snap in her direction.

"The Lady Sarah Williams of the Aboveground," a page announced.

Her own name sounded wrong, odd at best, being announced before 200 or so attendees. As Arulan promised, the king began to ascend the stairs. His frock coat was black with silver highlights that not only matched her dress, but sparkled making him look as though he had been dusted with ground diamonds. Beneath his coat a high collared shirt that had an ascot at the neck. Sarah dared not let her eyes dip below the waist for fear of what might distract her there. The silver highlights scattered about his hair made it shine almost a platinum blonde. Jareth bowed to her and extended his elbow. Sarah curtsied in return and fed her slender arm through his.

Before them, in the heart of the ballroom, a few dozen royals formed a receiving line. Among them were the members of the Triumvirate, Gandor and Tiberon. Others remained strangers to her. The Cleric was the first to greet Sarah. She tentatively let go of Jareth's arm, but he remained protectively near her as he would until he was forced to leave her side.

"Milady, you are even more beautiful than I remember from just a week ago," he said as he lay a kiss upon her cheek.

"And you are even more charming." The Sage and the Gavel were more formal with their greetings.

Each of the Representatives greeted her formally as well. Gandor slipped in a little wink, but under the watchful eye of the Triumvirate he was careful. Even Tiberon, brazen as he had been behind the back of the king, was on his best behavior, giving her little more than a smile in the way of extra attention. Elbereth, Representative of the Northwest sector, seemed pleasant enough. As his sector had been, he gave off a welcoming vibration. Sarah liked the way his eyes seemed as blue as the sky. His hair was salt and pepper, his smile warm and sincere. Ranofyr, on the other hand, had stark red hair. He was waif and gaunt, the discoloration around his eyes fanning straight back under his temples making his eyes seem like tiny slits. When Ranofyr greeted Sarah, he let his eyes go wide at the sight of her. Around his pupils his eyes appeared almost red, nearly glowing. Sarah blinked, sure it was a trick of lights or a figment of her imagination. Upon a second look, she found them more auburn. Jareth's hand fell to the small of her back and guided her along the line, but Ranofyr kept his eyes locked with Sarah's. They hinted red once more before she looked away.

She was introduced to the royals. Darien, Jareth's grandfather and his wife Arianna. After everything Atofina had told her, it gave Sarah chills when Darien took her hand. Arianna had a watchful eye on him. Sarah greeted him rather mechanically, caught between the feeling his presence gave her and the uncomfortable stare of Arianna. The former queen was not a particularly attractive woman, seeming to be far more senior to Darien than she actually was, but despite that she gave off a warm and friendly energy when she took Sarah's hand. While the other royals were not true descendants of the king, they were either in some way connected to the Triumvirate or the Representatives and through that association, looked at upon more favorably than commoners. At the end of the receiving line Deverell and Turgomon waited. As she completed her last hand shake, Turgomon took up her arm and smiled, "I told you you'd be just fine."

"Indeed you did," she smiled. With a guide to either side, Sarah followed Jareth into the dinning room. The king held out her chair and she took her seat to his left. Promptly at six the buffet was prepared and everyone was invited to fill their plates. Even though she was starving from eating so lightly at breakfast and lunch, Sarah was careful not to overdo it. Jareth's last minute idea to hold a buffet worked quite well. He and Sarah, along with the Triumvirate, the Representatives and Jareth's personal staff made up the main table. Several large tables were laid out in a U-shape before the main table and the buffet between them where everyone could easily help themselves to seconds.

Sarah leaned over to Jareth, "Where's your great grand father? Shouldn't he have been invited?"

"He was," Jareth said quickly. "Please, just eat."

"I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright. It truly isn't appropriate for us to be speaking during the meal. It's frowned upon." Jareth's eyes remained on his plate, his lips moved as little as was necessary to allow the words to pass.

"I see," but she didn't mean the words she said.

Turgomon was at the right side of the mortal, "Don't worry Sarah. It's just the formality of being king."

"I'm not worried," Sarah proclaimed as she straightened her spine and turned her attention to the meal. When she rose her head again, she noticed everyone else busily chatting amongst themselves. Sarah longed to be part of any of the number of conversations which filled the air incoherently around her. Silence disturbed her more than any noise most people were more commonly irritated by. By the time desert was served, Sarah thought she would claw her skin off. Each of Jareth's wait staff presented a Baked Alaska to the cluster of guest to which they'd been assigned. As they all set the desert a flame, there was cheering and clapping followed by a few exchanges of surprise. The production, she thought, would sustain her until the dancing begun. Mercifully, the desert by its nature required quick eating.

When the meal concluded, Jareth excused the guests as well as Deverell and Turgomon. Back in the ballroom the guests began to don their masks. Each was extravagant, whether it wound round their heads or perched on a pole they carried about with them. Most had horns or long noses. Many of the men wore hats. They chatted in small groups as they awaited the entrance of the king. Sarah and Jareth put their masks in place before they joined the others.

Sarah stood at the doorway, her silver mask on a pole held tight in her sweaty palm. It was a simple mask, made to cover the eyes and nose, trimmed with black. Jareth came up behind her snaking his arm along her waist. The extended nose of the mask he wore brushed along her cheek as he purred into her ear, "Guess who?"

Lifting the pole so that Sarah's mask covered her face, she turned and replied, "I would know you anywhere, by the rhythm of your breath, the wrinkle at the corner of your mouth when you smile, even the gait of your stride, each is a siren that blares your name."

The king had not expected such an intimate answer from the mortal. His entire demeanor thrown, he quickly turned her around and suggested, "We best not keep our guests waiting." He extended his elbow to her. Using his magic to cast open the doors, he marched them through, leading Sarah to the center of the dance floor, wound one arm about her waist and took her hand in his.

The music they played had no words, but it was good for waltzing, lots of strings and whole notes that made the box step seem appropriate. A couple of minutes into the song, most everyone around them had taken to the dance floor. All but the Triumvirate, who had politely excused themselves after dinner, Tiberon who stood against the west wall, with one foot propped behind him and some redheaded woman whose name Sarah didn't know, but whom she had caught staring at her over Jareth's shoulder. She knew the woman wasn't a royal because she hadn't been in the receiving line. Feeling confident, Sarah let her arm slide up the back of the king's neck. Jareth shook his head until she returned her hand to his shoulder. After thirty seconds or so, she tried sliding her hand onto his chest. To her dismay there was no open chest there for her to touch, not even the gentle thumping of his heartbeat. Through gritted teeth he warned her, "Sarah, you mustn't behave this way, not here, not in front of these people.

"No one's even paying attention to us anymore," she told him using her thumb to stroke along his own, down over the heel of his hand.

"Sarah, please, for a multitude of reasons, which I'd rather not discuss right now, we absolutely cannot behave this way."

"I think I would rather discuss them. Right now." Despite how furious she was with him, her tones remained dull, low enough that no one heard them but him.

"You think you would, but trust me when I..."

"Trust you? I've grown weary of this constant need to trust you. When are you going to begin trusting me?"

"When you start obeying the rules I've set forth for you then perhaps I can begin to trust you."

"Rules," her voice had gotten a bit loud. Before going on she cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "What happened to the mighty Goblin King? The one who stole me out of my brother's room at night and banished me to his maze. The one who broke every rule, reordered time, defied the principles of physics and did it all for me."

Jareth hardened his gaze, "He allowed himself to love a girl who refused to love him in return. Then he spent fifteen years watching his kingdom destroy itself and now," he tightened his grip on her in anger, "now, this Goblin King you seem to miss so much is desperately trying to keep that from happening again."

"So our relationship, it's what, just a duty for you?"

"We have no relationship!" Jareth looked around to see if anyone had heard him raise his voice. Only Deverell looked in their direction and the king felt fairly safe that he was no threat. "We have no relationship. You're little more than one of my servants. That is how these people must see you and in front of these people I can only treat you that way. You're putting everything I've worked for in jeopardy with these games of yours. I understand that you have these feelings which apparently you lack control over."

"Feelings, that I can't control? You know Jareth, you haven't exactly shown a whole lot of restraint yourself, especially in my room last night."

The song had ended with her words. He leaned into her ear as he would have normally done to thank her for the dance, but instead he said roughly, "You have no idea just what kind of control I have exhibited with you." Leaving her standing slack jawed in the middle of the dance floor the king stepped away his wicked grin flashing in the direction of a few of his guests.

Fuming Sarah turned to storm after him, but was quickly caught up in someone's arms. For a second she struggled until familiar violet eyes met hers. "Milady, the king would not take kindly to your chasing after him." Turgomon's black hair was fashioned into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. He wore a high necked red shirt held in place by a black and red quilted vest. From waist to knees his black tights were hidden by breeches and which peaked out only briefly before meeting the tops of his boots.

"I don't much give a shit what the king would take kindly too."

Tiberon smiled gleefully at her words. "Would you care to accompany me to the gardens?"

"I'm sure that would rank much higher on the list of things to which the king would not take kindly to than my chasing after him."

"True," Tiberon conceded. "Still, I think you and I got off to a rather misconstrued start, so I'll ask you once more, would you care to accompany me to the gardens?"

"I would love nothing more."

The night air was clean and clear. A million stars filled the patch of sky above their heads. Tiberon sat on one of the stone benches in the garden. "Won't you join me?"

"I'm fine here," she told him as she stood beneath an archway covered in miniature roses. She was still angry at the way Jareth behaved, for the things he had said, but being outside where there were no walls was helping those feelings to pass. She looked in through the French doors of the music room. "Who does he think he is anyway?"

"King?" Tiberon offered.

"Exactly, king. Well I suppose he is king, but that doesn't give him the right to, well yeah, I mean I guess it does, but not to me. I'm not part of his kingdom, not one of his subjects and most certainly not his servant!"

"What is it that has you so angry, milady?"

"Nothing," she lied knowing that Jareth would not be happy to have his laundry aired. "I just get so tired of him acting like he's king twenty four seven."

"Twenty four seven?"

"All the time."

"I see," he said amused.

Sarah immediately followed on another tirade of things which irritated her about the king and the Underground as she sat beside the Representative. Only half listening, Tiberon leaned back, plucked a violet from the garden and placed it across Sarah's lap. For a moment she stopped her ranting and just looked at the flower. Cautiously she reached for the stem and lifted the fragrant petals to her nose. It was light and sweet. "Thank you," she managed with a smile. "Look at me, missing the dancing and making you miss it too."

"Nonsense, he may be the only king around here, but he's not the only one with magic." Tiberon threw open one of the French doors and cast a spell that started the piano playing. "May I?"

Forgotten was the fey who terrified her in the woods. Tiberon had become something magical here at the castle. Sarah curtsied and took his hand. She knew it was wrong, completely against Jareth's wishes. If Deverell or Turgomon were to find her they'd surely convey the king's strong opposition. He pulled her close into his arms, just the way Jareth had the night before. She felt her body start to respond. 'Christ!' she thought. 'Was it the touch she was responding to or the memory of Jareth?'

Tiberon noticed the far away look in her eyes. "We'll have our own ball, if we need to. I could dance with you like this until dawn." His mouth was pressed against her ear. Sarah pulled back from him, his words sounding all wrong to her. Not just that he shouldn't be saying them, no, indeed, it went much further than that. He shouldn't be feeling them. They barely knew one another, certainly not well enough for him to express such eagerness for her close company. The fey only looked at her, through her more like, in a way that Sarah had decided only fey could do. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"Milady," Deverell called from inside the music room. He walked quickly to her side, "Milady, the king is beside himself wondering where you've been. Allow me to escort you inside." Sarah's arm fed through the young fey's and she followed him willingly. Her eyes met Tiberon's once more. With a pleading glance that showed she was torn between staying and going, Sarah lifted the violet to her nose and inhaled deeply before tossing it back to Tiberon.

Back inside the ball, Sarah stood between Deverell and Turgomon, feeling trapped again. Jumbled words echoed in her head. Something about Jareth's stare, being able to feel his eyes on you even standing in a crowded room. When she focused again, she saw those mismatched eyes, narrowed on her from across the room. Sarah tried to force a smile, but the king kept his face blank as a canvas. As she continued to match his gaze, Sarah saw a familiar redhead snake her way toward the king. The dress, the mask, she had seen them earlier as the woman stared on at she and Jareth during their dance. Draping her arm over his shoulder, the red head spun in front of the king, her right hand raising up to trace his jaw line. In shock Sarah watched as Jareth returned the woman's smile, seemingly pleased by her affections. "Sonofa..."

"Milady, care you to take the dance floor with me?" Turgomon asked already beginning to take her into his arms.

"No, thank you," she refused him, attempting to brush his hand from about her waist. "I haven't the king's permission to dance with you."

"The king's approval doesn't seem to be all that important to you if you ask me and besides, Jareth has already given both Deverell and myself his permission to entertain you." Turgomon drug her onto the dance floor with him. "Has it occurred to you that you might be overreacting, even misunderstanding the things his majesty says and does at a function such as this one?"

"Though I don't proclaim to know all there is to know about royalty or fey, I think that I do understand basic English, thank you."

"But do you understand the meaning behind the words you hear?"

"I know what he meant."

"Do you? How well do you know him Sarah? What's his favorite food? How old was he when he became king? What was the name of his first horse?"

"I...I...I don't know," she stammered. For the first time Sarah realized that despite the physical relationship they shared, she knew nothing about him. Nothing more than he was very appealing and incredibly talented in bed. That he wore magic well, like a second skin. His spells sometimes so graceful it seemed as though the universe moved at his command. That he, like anyone, had a mother and a father, but all else remained a mystery.

As they danced, Tiberon approached Deverell, "So, you were sent to assist the king?"

"There is much to be done in anticipation of the renewal of the Underground," Deverell said flatly, already getting a bad vibe about him.

"I have boots older than you boy. Have a little respect."

"And I have trapped fire fairies with more brains than you," he muttered before walking away.

In the meanwhile, Jareth had begun to dance with the redhead who had been flirting with him. They hadn't taken more than two turns by the time Sarah noticed. "Who is she?" Sarah asked Turgomon.

The king's advisor tried a simple answer first. "Her name is Maeve."

It was the Underground which had taught Sarah how to ask questions and she was relentless when she wanted answers. "I didn't ask you her name. I asked you who she was."

"She is a fey who once shared his majesty's company, years before your name was ever heard here."

She swallowed hard at his response, "They were lovers?" Jareth was centuries old and the fact that he had a lover before he'd met her should have surprised her no more than the knowledge that woman had been to his bed since. Yet, it gnawed at her as she drew the comparison that while she had never had anyone awaken the desire within in her before Jareth all those years ago. Others since, but none before and though their relationship had been a platonic one, the young and impressionable girl had been deeply effected by the tension that surrounds a man who could so easily turn charm to sex appeal in the blink of a mismatched eye.

"As a matter of speaking," Turgomon replied.

"How long?" In truth, she didn't want to know, but she asked. As if knowing that they had only been together for a short time would somehow ease the butterflies that seemed to flutter about inside her chest. If the king's advisor were to tell her that they had been together for some inconceivable long time by mortal standards, perhaps it would warm her to know that he could have loyalty to a woman.

"I fail to see where any of this is relevant."

"How long?" Sarah repeated.

"A couple of years," the advisor confessed.

'A couple of years,' Sarah thought. 'Jareth had allowed someone to stay by his side for a couple of years, but her, despite these feelings for him she continuously tried to label, she could not remain in his favor for more than a few days.

The song ended and another began. Turgomon bowed to the mortal. Sarah didn't move, not so much as a breath. She watched on intently as Jareth and Maeve continued to dance. A patterned stop that reminded her of mortal line dancing. The pair's eyes locked on one another. Their hands clasped above their heads, fingers entwined, as their arms swept one over the other. Two bodies brushing together in a roomful of curious eyes, but no one more curious than Sarah. The female fey's mask was strung around her head, her thick red curls hiding the cord. The face plate was brownish red, with two large horns that protruded from her temple holding back her stacked ringlets and two wing-like panels that covered the top of her ears. Maeve felt the mortal's eyes upon her and glanced over Jareth's shoulder with a smile and a wink. She whispered something in the king's ear. Jareth turned to look at Sarah who cursed because his face never seemed to give anything away. Drawing her lips into a stiff pout, Sarah turned and left the dance floor tears rising in her eyes. No title had been assigned to the feelings that were welling up inside her, but she thought they might be some strain of jealousy.

"A face as beautiful as this one, should be kept free of things that might mare it," soft black gloves touched her face wiping away the salty droplets that streaked her cheeks.

Seeing Tiberon approach Sarah, Deverell moved again to rescue the maiden. "Leave her make her own mistakes boy. We've got bigger woes which beg our attention. One of the king's guards tell me they've not seen Darien for more than thirty minutes since he asked a servant for directions to the washroom."

"Darien?" Deverell asked.

Pulling him along, Turgomon grumbled, "I haven't the time or energy to go into detail, but he is a dangerous fey and not to be trusted. I will check the rooms on the main floor, you search upstairs. I want him found before the hours up." Looking at the clock against the wall this left them twenty minutes.

Turgomon found Darien in the king's office, sitting at his desk, staring at his own portrait on the wall. "Sir, beg your pardon, but were you lost on your way to the wash room."

"Surely you must know well enough by now that I grew up in these halls, played in them as a child. How is it that I would manage to lose my way in a place I know as well as my own hand?"

"Then I'll dispense with the formality and remind you that no one is permitted in the king's chamber without his presence and invitation."

"A rule I instituted, I might add," Darien refused to allow himself to intimidated.

"One would think you might have a bit more respect for it then."

Darien rose from behind the desk and stalked about the king's assistance with as much authority as Jareth had when he behaved the same way. "I was once the king, in fact, were it not for that incompetent daughter of mine, I would still be king. Were we to talk about respect, boy, I would think it would be yours we'd need to discuss and not mine." He stood before his own portrait, giving a quick glance to the right, he took in the portrait of Corwyn. Lips twisting in a look of disgust, he quickly found more words to share. "But Jareth has everything, doesn't he? I'll bet you he thinks he does? He should. No siblings, no wife, no children. No sons hidden in the shadows, no flight of fancy young daughters with romantic notions. If fate had seen fit to free me of those burdens, I could have been a great king," he turned to face the advisor, "twice what my grandson is, three times my father."

"My father was your father's advisor, and for a short time yours as well," Turgomon reminded him. "According to the tales I've been told you were nowhere near a fraction of the fey Oberon was and even less worthy than a goblin to wear the crown."

"There is a saying that one should believe half of what they see, less of what they read and none of what they hear. Your father was dismissed from my employ for treason, a crime I could have had him executed for. Seems to me you ought to be thanking me."

"I'll thank you to leave the king's office and return to the ballroom immediately, otherwise I shall be forced to call the guards and let them see to your removal. Being that you were once king, I will concede the choice to you."

"Why make such a case out of an old man who wanted but a moment to remember a life which had passed him by? Has serving your king gotten so mundane that you seek out these meager entertainments?"

"My service to his majesty leaves me quite fulfilled."

"And occupied, I would imagine," Darien watched as interest filled Turgomon's eyes. "His prize has returned to the Underground, his mortal back by his side. Why with his spine softened I'm sure most of his royal duties are falling to the shoulders of others. Distracted by love, if that's what he wishes to call it, he grows lax, he becomes weak."

"The kingdom is as strong as it has ever been," Turgomon said authoritatively.

Darien contradicted to him, "My boy, you have no idea just how weak this kingdom has been since it's conception." That said he left the room, dignity in tact and returned on his own volition to the ball room.

Smiling weakly up at the Representative, Sarah replied, "I really have no idea why I'm crying."

"Neither do I," Tiberon folded his arm about Sarah's waist and waltzed her back onto the floor. He held her tightly to him. Sarah hoped the king was watching, hoped he would see her dancing with someone he didn't approve of, someone he certainly hadn't given permission to. Before long she had actually begun to enjoy herself, allowing the fey to spin her this way and that until she felt nearly drunk. No longer was she concerned with being held too tightly or the feel of his breath on her neck, these moments were about the music and being completely lost in it. Even as the song changed, she didn't notice.

The deep dream state she slipped into made it all the more unexpected to hear Jareth's voice suddenly very close. "May I cut in?" Suddenly the mortal felt all too sober.

"Your highness, you have a great number of female guests here tonight waiting for you to dance with them, surely the one dance you've shared with Sarah was plenty."

Glowering down at the Representative, Jareth coolly proposed "Allow me to rephrase my question then, I am cutting in, what would you like to do about it?" Somewhere inside, Sarah smiled, happy to see him fighting over her. Jareth grabbed her roughly by the waist and pulled her to him. "This mortal is mine. If you so greatly desire one, go find your own." And so the feud begun, the typical male ritual of not allowing other males to 'play with their toys' as it were. A ritual that Sarah now knew was not confined to the males Aboveground.

Before backing down Tiberon raised his eyebrow at the king. With a quick bow he thanked Sarah for the dance and blew her a kiss. When the Representative had achieved an adequate distance, Jareth asked her, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I was dancing." Her words had an air of innocence about them.

"You're trying to ruin me."

"Ruin you?"

"Yes. Conducting yourself the way you were with Tiberon and so openly. Why before long you'll have ever royal in the room convinced that I'm incapable of controlling a mortal." His words were sour as he spoke to her.

"You expect me to let these people believe that you control me?"

"Of course," he said nonchalantly as though it came as a surprise to him, her being upset at the situation.

"Is that what you meant telling Tiberon that I was yours? Some macho I've got two woman and you can't have any game of control and possession, won by the boy who owns the castle."

"If that is how you choose to look at it," he looked down and reminded her in a wary tone, "You agreed to these conditions when I posed them to you on our way back to the castle." Her eyes dimmed as she conceded, "Now it's nearly eleven, do you think you could possibly manage to behave yourself for just an hour longer?"

"I'm not running up to my room when the clock strikes twelve Jareth, I'm not a child."

"You will address me properly."

"Were I to address you with the title on my mind just now, it would be most unpleasant. Now, I believe you've left the lovely Maeve to stand alone over there. Best you run to her before she takes some new lover."

"Is that what this is about? Your jealous?" Nearly smiling the king waited for her answer.

"I'm no such thing. You think you can send Deverell and Turgomon to babysit me, but you've given them so many other tasks this evening that they haven't been much of a challenge to avoid or escape. I'll tell you what this is about. You want to be able to tell me that we have no relationship, but you also want to keep me from having a relationship with anyone else. Where I come from, I'm of legal age. I was told that I needed to repair this world, but I was never told I had to forget where I come from."

"I don't much care who you see as long as it doesn't endanger my kingdom. Trust me... I'm sorry...I mean take my word for it, Tiberon will endanger my kingdom. I forbid you to see him."

"You forbid me," she laughed. "You have no..."

"Let's not go through this again." Jareth rose a finger to her lips. Even as fury continued to drive the blood pounding through her veins, Sarah admitted to a tingle at his touch.

"You have no right to forbid me to do anything," she finished.

"May I cut in?" Darien asked sneaking up on them as the song ended. Jareth eyed him in his gold and white attire, layer upon layer of rich silk, still dressing as if he were king. The outermost layer a golden frock coat which bore the Triumvirate's insignia, a symbol which he wasn't worthy to wear, but one that for what ever reason he felt a kinship to. When he held the title of king, he had it embossed on everything from letterhead to bed linens. Perhaps he felt as if it brought him some measure of security, with him being a marked man and all. The white tights which escaped his knee length golden breeches met with fantastically ornate golden ankle boots which made him appear ridiculous, but he wore them anyway, with the same pride and arrogance he'd always shown, somehow fooled into believing that he was truly better than anyone who shared the space around him.

"Ask her," Jareth replied distastefully before marching off.

Sarah did accept the dance with Darien, if for no other reason than to irritate Jareth a little more. As Jareth left the dance floor, he met his advisor. Turgomon was coming to tell him about his run in with the former king when he became distracted at the sight of Darien with the mortal in his arms. "Your majesty, we cannot allow him access to the girl."

"Leave her be. If she wants to dance with the devil, let her have her fun. Since she doesn't wish to heed my advice, perhaps it is best I let her learn for herself." Jareth walked off in the direction of another of his guests.

Turgomon searched the room for any sign of Deverell, but it seemed as if he had yet to return from his sweep of the upstairs. The advisor followed the king, "Beg pardon your grace, but might I request a word with you."

Jareth excused himself from his guest, "Yes Turgomon, you have something to say to me."

"Indeed your grace, although I wonder if we shouldn't leave the room first."

A quick look around reminded the king that his mortal was still in his grandfather's arms. "No, no," he said clearly, but quietly. "I may have sworn off chaperoning the mortal, but as of yet I have not lifted your order to do so."

"Yes your grace," Turgomon positioned himself carefully in a spot where he could both carry on private conversation with the king while keeping one eye forever on the girl. "For some time this night, your...I mean to say Sir Darien wandered away from the ballroom."

"Where did he wander to?" Jareth asked with great curiosity.

"Your office my lord, I found him there only moments ago."

"What did he want in my office?" The king did little to hide his fury.

Turgomon smiled and feigned a laugh as he noticed a few guests look their way. "Your majesty, I believe he has drunk more than twice his fill and in an act of reflection sought the room for all the comforts it once gave him. An old fool as he were who may be close to losing his mind." The advisor paused in his analysis before continuing, "He spoke of your love for the mortal, of the weakness it created within you and the vulnerability it brought to the kingdom."

"Darien wouldn't know love if it crawled out of the black hole in his chest where the Supreme One forgot to place a heart and bit him on the end of his nose which his eyes haven't seen passed in more than a century. I am not weak and this kingdom is not vulnerable. Furthermore, damn any fey," he glanced at the twirling couple on the floor, "or mortal for that matter that dares to suggest otherwise. Bring them on if they have the courage to fight me."

"Your grace, now is not the time to raise you ire, it's best we discuss the details of this another day." Turgomon bowed to take his leave.

Jareth took his arm in a stiff grip, "There is nothing to discuss. Let them say what they will, let them think what they may. My grandfather, the royals, the Representatives, it matters very little to me what their opinions are. In two moons time, this kingdom, my kingdom will be restored and I will be free of all that has hindered me so long. Then they may come in droves, for I will defend my lands and my castle with each breath I hold. Nothing else I have is worth fighting for. Nothing." The proclamation was stern, believable, kingly, but Turgomon had to wonder whom it was that the king was trying to convince. His eyes did not meet his advisor's eyes when he spoke and though it was hardly a speech to be made aloud, it lacked the conviction it should have had. Jareth's mind was elsewhere and his advisor knew that, he just didn't know where.

While they danced, the former king had been polite for the most part. As Sarah had been warned, Darien had a roaming eye and wandering hands. More than once she caught him conversing with her chest and once she thought his hand dipped a little too low from her hip, but she managed to remedy these situations with a shift of weight or a clearing of her throat. He asked her an enormous load of questions. Everything from what was seemingly innocent, "How are you enjoying your stay in the Underground?", to the overtly sexual, "Has my grandson made proper arrangements for your stay or are you bedding in his suite?" His reputation had preceded him and if she were to be fully honest, the depth of his query didn't shock Sarah. In fact, it was easily apparent how a woman could fall for his charismatic charm, not to mention, he was quite handsome, even at his advanced age.

"You know my grandson fancies you quite a lot," he said as another song began, ignoring Sarah's attempt to curtsey and excuse herself.

"Coulda fooled me," she huffed, forgetting her manners for a moment.

Darien smiled at her mortal outburst. "No really," he continued, "It's as plain as the nose on his face, the one beneath the mask." Sarah smiled thinking it silly that he found the need to clarify his analogy.

"You might think so, but let me assure you, we have no relationship," to coin Jareth's phrase.

"You sound much like the man who fell in love with my daughter. He too doubted her love at first."

"You must miss your daughter very much," Sarah offered.

Darien's eyes expressed the emotions he did not have. They told a bogus tale of love and loss of grief and bereavement as his better judgment fought his truthful tongue, winning out to answer with a simple, "Indeed." He turned her about the dance floor a few times and when the anger at the mention of his daughter had passed he spoke again, "But I see her now when I look at you."

"I do not wish to argue with someone whom I know so little of, certainly I hate to disagree with the former king, but you must be mistaken. I have seen your daughters portrait and I pale to her by comparison."

"You have her same raven hair and when I see it pulled back in her combs," Darien swept over her mane with the hand that had been holding hers. If only he had pursued his talents in acting with half the fervor he pursued the crown, he could have blazed the stages of more than one kingdom acquiring accolades like some collected berries in the wood, by the bushels and usually very sweet. "These were her favorites, hand crafted silver made by the finest elfish silversmith's in the realm. A present for her on the day she took the throne. And this," Darien's hand surfed over the hollow of Sarah's neck, his fingers supporting the charm that hung from the embroidered black band encircling her neck, "When Ian was given the king's necklace, he had this crafted for his wife, so that no matter where she traveled they would always know where she belonged and to whom."

"A dog collar?" Sarah asked.

"I'm sorry. My experience with mortal's is much more limited than most of the royals I'm afraid."

"A branding mark. Something to let other's know where she belonged," she paused, "and to whom."

Inside he grinned, content with the thought he had placed in her head, but just to be certain he added, "Fey, especially those who hold coveted positions in the Underground have that habit, seeing as how their woman are much sought after."

"I've always found it rather amusing that the woman bare the brand while the men are openly permitted to philander to their liking, choosing from commoners and courtesans alike to satisfy their urges, turning to their wives only when the find it necessary for the production of an heir." It was Arianna's voice that whispered to him, loud enough for Sarah to hear. She didn't make eye contact with the mortal, only spoke her piece and carried on her way to the bar.

"Milady, I should take my leave, there are many other younger men here tonight with whom I'm certain you would rather keep company. Thank you for the dance," he bowed. Sarah curtsied and returned to Turgomon's side along the wall.

"I've just been made aware of the most interesting thing Turgomon, but since I've been warned not to put my faith in the source of this information, I'm asking you. Tell me your honest reply, this head piece and the necklace, were they the Leanan Sidhe's?"

"Why do you ask milady?"

"You were her advisor, were they the Sidhe's?"

"Aye milady," he answered.

"Is it true she wore the necklace as a brand?"

"'Tis a mortal custom to wear a ring, one which it is my understanding announces to all others that the lady is spoken for." Patiently he waited for her confirmation of this fact.

"As does the man wear a band that says the same," she spoke hotly.

"Well, milady, here it became a custom of the royals to fit their woman with a piece of jewelry all the same, but as I'm sure you've noticed, many of the fey wear gloves, making it only fitting to place the sign about a maiden's neck, where it can be prominently displayed."

Sarah's blood set to boiling once more. 'How dare he mark me,' she thought as her eyes sought out the king who was busy talking to two men who seemed very old and yet were in fact, older than Sarah could conceive. Beginning a course that would end at his side, her tiny feet carried her across the polished floor.

As if his heightened senses anticipated her arrival, Jareth had already excused himself by the time Sarah reached him. Before she could speak, he turned and asked, "How might I help you milady?"

"This," she said as her fingers struggled with the latch on the embroidered band, "I want it off. I won't wear your brand one second more."

"My brand?"

"To think you would tell me we have no relationship and then send me out with a mark to tell all other's I was yours!"

Jareth enjoyed a good laugh at this, "Milady, I know not where you get such a yarn from, but surely I would like this storyteller to share more of his tales with me. That is no brand as you say, it is more of a tag, to be certain that others know you are my property. It is as much for my benefit as for your protection and I would think long and hard before removing it."

The words of the king only made her more angry. "You won't be satisfied until you've made me just like her."

"Who?"

"Your mother. First her combs, then her necklace and perhaps when you've driven me to hate you as much as she hates you, you'll lock me away in room no bigger than the one you built for her where I can spend eternity."

"Sarah, the last thing I want is for you to be like my mother," it surprised her the honesty in his words, the conviction with which he said them, but most of all the solemn look her taunt had left on his face. "It seems as though you are bent to not believe a word of honesty I speak tonight and yet, you put your faith in all my airs when you should know the difference between who I am and who I must profess to be," he looked her over. "Or perhaps it is I who has put to much faith in what you have said." She returned his gaze with one of her own, laden with confusion at his cryptic words. "You spoke earlier of how easily identifiable I am to you, perhaps I believed you too quickly when you spoke."

The clock chimed twelve while they stood and stared at one another. Deverell reentered the ballroom, somewhat put off that Turgomon had not found him and let him know that the search had been called off. Quickly he went to the king's side, "Your majesty, should I see the girl to her room."

"You may take her to the main hall, ring for Arulan who will take her to her room. It would be most inappropriate for you to see her to her room."

"Yes your grace," he replied.

Sarah curtsied. Jareth returned with a low bow. "Thank you for a most interesting evening. If you don't mind, I think I would like to return to my room."

"As you wish," the king told her, knowing full well that she was compromising for him. Jareth knew woman well. Well enough to say for certain, this was not the last he would hear of this night or it's events, but he was glad that at least for the time being she'd let the matter lie. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the ballroom doors close, her on the other side, safe from the characters who remained.

Deverell and Turgomon were both strongly reprimanded. In no uncertain terms the king demanded they not allow Darien or Tiberon to leave the ballroom until they were escorted to their coaches and even then, he asked to have a sweep of the grounds before the castle was locked downed. He expected that with everyone having seen the mortal and her subsequent early departure the party would soon wrap up. As was customary in the Underground, little went according to schedule. The guests remained for several hours after Sarah was taken to her room. Jareth in the meantime did his best to escape Maeve, but she was clever, conveniently bumping into him at every turn. "What's the matter Jareth, did I upset the mortal?"

"What does it matter?"

"Come dance with me?" she plied, tugging at his arm.

"I don't feel like dancing."

"Aw, Jareth, you used to be fun."

At her reference he grew sentimental, "Not enough for you as I recall it."

Maeve swatted a hand against his chest, "Nonsense darling, I was young and foolish. I had a case of cold feet that you overreacted to. You fey are always thinking that sort of thing is reserved for the male of the species when I can tell you that it happens to the women as well."

"I asked you to marry me and you slept with my defense officer."

"Emanon meant nothing to me. I was confused, frightened at the thought of being your queen. Worried that I might not be able to satisfy you," her pleading eyes sparkled as she added, "outside the bedroom that is." Her hands found his and placed them on her hips. Maeve took his face in her palms and stared intently into his eyes. Tiberon watched from where he stood on the other end of the ballroom, impressed at how well the redhead did what was expected of her while he wished she would have given this performance while Sarah was in the room. "Were you to ask me today, my reaction would be very different."

"Please Maeve," he asked sternly, placing her hands back at her side and straightening his coat, " I've gotten rather used to being a loner."

"Gotten used to it on your own or been forced to deal with the sentence handed you by others." Her lips drifted near his neck, her rose red lipstick threatening to stain his ascot.

"'Tis not my nature to allow others to make my choices for me," he proclaimed. Not the king's face, nor his body responded to Maeve's forwardness. "As 'tis not my nature to allow other's to take advantage of me."

"Used to be that I was expected to take advantage of you," she pointed out.

"Yes well, with age comes wisdom. Let's not dwell upon what existed once in the far gone past."

"If you ask me, you've got the same problem your mother had." He looked on at her curiously, "You've ruined your tastes by succumbing to a mortal."

Jareth would have chastised her for telling a lie, but she had spoken the truth. In the same way his mother quested for love that was extraordinary, he too went in search of the woman who could make even his fairytale life something other worldly. Once he thought it would have been Maeve. She was the first to turn his head when he was much older than most fey who had already known the love of a woman, the beautiful woman before him took the king in her stride and taught him much for which other woman had been very grateful. What he mistook for love was little more than stumbling onto someone he could easily tolerate in an effort to produce an heir that would rid him of the responsibility of the throne. It was she who first earned his trust. She who first broke it.

But that was before. Before he watched the mortal, the one they thought might have been an easy opponent for Jareth. Before he gave Sarah magic and before she used that magic against him. Now she held his soul. For someone like Maeve, someone who knew him intimately once, it was easy to discern. "I'd rather succumb to a city of mortals than revisit a whore's cold bed."

She scowled at him, "No woman, human, fey or otherwise could ever do the things I did for you, the things I did to you. You've just forgotten is all."

Though desperate, it was amusing to see her so dejected, "Well if I've forgotten it, it couldn't have been all that memorable an experience in the first place." He watched as she opened her mouth, but before she could chastise him, he told her, "Please Maeve, my guests are beginning to leave, I have my obligations. It was marvelous to see you, really, let's do it again," Jareth stepped away. Glancing back over his shoulder, he added, "In about 200 years."

"You'll be sorry Jareth," she muttered under her breath. Though he heard, Jareth didn't acknowledge her. Out of earshot her rage continued, "When Tiberon finishes with you, you'll know real loneliness and see if I'm so eager to be with you then."