Unseeled

by FangamerBowiextreme

Sarah, contending over the imminent death of her terminally ill father, receives a proposition that sounds too good to be true. The life of her father, the eternal protection of a fae over her family, in exchange for her hand in marriage. In a moment of weakness, and too guilt-stricken to refuse, she accepts the proposal -but to whom, she has no idea. So long as it isn't 'Him'.

6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6, Repose

---

"Why the hell didn't you do anything Lochlan?" Sarah yelled, storming over to him and just barely restraining herself from punching him in the chest.

"What do you mean?" he asked, innocently. Sarah's eyes widened and this time she did reach out and shove him.

"Why didn't you stop him? I thought you were supposed to protect me?" There was outrage in her voice, but it was weak. Lochlan's brow furrowed as he stared down at her.

"There is a difference between feeling offended and feeling afraid. I didn't think you needed me to intervene. Was I wrong?"

Sarah glared, her jaw tensed as she exhaled roughly through her nose. Dammit, he was right. She just wanted to be angry.

"So it's okay to stand there and watch him sexually assault me like that? Is that considered normal behavior for him?"

Lochlan glanced away from her to the spot where Jareth once stood. In contrast to Sarah's vehemence, he was very calm in thought.

"No...it's not. I've never seen him act that way around any of the others," he said, curiously, with a level tone that struck her. She felt herself calm a little and took a step back from him. "You really did...set him off."

"What does that mean exactly?" she asked, worriedly, with arms crossed. Lochlan tore his eyes away from the blank space of the hall, and a small smile flickered to life.

"It means...he's said yes."

"What? No. I definitely heard nothing of the sort," Sarah said, shaking her head as she glared. She was still reeling from his kiss. From his force and exhibitionist disregard. She could still taste him on her tongue. Feel him there. Dammit.

"That's probably why he kissed you. Testing your passions, as it were," he argued, to himself mostly. In truth he was beside himself. He was worried when Jareth had stormed away from him. He was angry, and that was never good when meeting with another. And yet...his responses to her were shocking. She'd insulted him. Badgered him. Struck him. For a moment he almost had intervened but...maybe she was different after all. Maybe he really did like her.

Lochlan's smile became more genuine as he mulled all this over. He really was an optimist. An optimist totally ignorant of the violently offended female still seething at his side.

"That's bullshit, Lochlan. What he did was a power play and nothing more. Damn -my mouth still hurts." She rubbed at her jaw but it was an act somewhat feigned. Beyond her anger, she didn't really care that he was rough with her. What that said about her, she'd deal with later. Lochlan peered down at her and his expression became a bit more serious.

"Sarah-" he said, and she glanced up. "It is my responsibility, under The King, to protect you, yes. But please understand, I shall never intervene between you and His Highness unless I feel you are in immediate danger, or you ask for me to do so explicitly. I thought I'd made that clear. If not, I apologize," he said, which effectively quelled the remainder of her annoyance. Sarah frowned up at him, then sighed.

"I understand. He's still The Prince and he can do what he wants. I'll try to be more aware of myself, I guess." Her tone softened and the grip on her arms relaxed. Lochlan tilted his head, a little surprised at how easy that was.

"So...you're alright then?" he asked. She huffed.

"Heh. Yeah. It'll take a bit more than some pervy man-handling to bring me to my knees. I think I half-expected it from him anyway…" her voice trailed off at the end, hoping he wouldn't ask why she had expected it. "So that was him accepting? You're sure?" she asked, changing directions. Lochlan nodded.

"Yes. Well...fairly certain. He would not have invited you to dinner otherwise."

Sarah pursed her lips. This was all vague, beating-around-the-bush, bullshit. And she wasn't sure she trusted it enough to indulge in this dinner and thus commit herself to this world because of it. She hated the thought as soon as it emerged, but her conversation with Jareth was far from finished. She'd need to confront him again. And soon.

"Hrrmmm….Fine. Fine, let's just get this over with," she grumbled, tossing up her hands as she closed her eyes and shook her head. Lochlan smirked. Surely he was still in shock, otherwise he would be lifting her from the floor and twirling her with glee. His master had finally accepted a bride. So readily. With such vigor. His hope in her was renewed. Maybe now, he could finally heal.

"I'll show you to your room first. You can get changed there before dinner."

---

Begrudgingly, Sarah followed Lochlan throughout the castle to a wing he said would be designated and appropriated just for her. For now, most of the rooms were empty, but this meant nothing to her. He brought her to the bedroom and ushered her inside. She was surprised to find the trunk General Fostad had gifted her already standing in the center of the room in front of them.

The room was large, large for her anyway, and very delicately crafted. The floor here was made of dark wood planks, and the walls were covered in fresco with ornate crown moulding. There were vivid paintings lain into them, wildlife scenes of creatures and vixens frolicking in greenery. She'd have to inspect their detail later, for there was simply too much else to look at.

To the left, against the wall, was the bed. It was tall, very fluffed, and sported thick curved posts that emulated the trunks of trees and angled into a canopy of fine layers of light pink satin. There was a dresser and a vanity on the wall adjacent it. On the wall in front of her, to the right of the most prominent fresco, was a french door that led to a balcony. Further down, the wall cut diagonally and featured a white marble fireplace. There was a sitting area in front of it, a love seat and a couple of chairs. On the right wall was a triptych of windows with arched tops and metal, Gothic-style embellishments that dissected the glass panes. There were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that fit into the far right corner, and a decanting table beside it. She took a step further into the room and looked to the left again. Against the wall, to the left of the bed, was an open archway that led to a short corridor.

The ceiling was a series of rib vaults, featuring the same ornate detail as the moulding and the furniture. All in all, it was beyond extravagant. Way too much for her.

"So...this is mine?" she asked, skeptically. Lochlan closed the door behind them and moved towards the center of the room.

"Yes. Across the hall is a library and a drawing room. There is a corridor at the end of the hall that will give you quick access to the kitchens and, should you desire it, any of the other rooms in this wing can be fitted as you like."

"And where does that hall lead?" she asked, pointing towards the bed.

"Your spa."

"My spa?" Sarah repeated, not quite expecting that.

"It...is a bit more lavish than a typical washroom, though it does have all the usual necessities," he explained. Sarah nodded. She'd have to check that out later...

"Now that this wing is in use, there will be guards stationed outside your door and at the ends of the halls at all times-"

"Wait, what? Why do I need guards?" she asked. If no-one but Jareth and a few staff lived in the castle, then…

"For protection, of course," Lochlan said, unhindered, and knelt down to unclasp the locks on the trunk. "They will also be available for any information or errands you may need. If you're alone and need something, do not hesitate to ask it of them."

"Oh. Okay." That made a bit more sense to her… She imagined she'd find herself alone and probably lost quite often. Maybe it would be nice to have someone to ask for directions. ...Or to simply not feel alone.

"Fostad really was generous. There are some fine dresses here." Lochlan spoke to himself, with satisfaction, as he pulled out a deep, wine-colored gown. Sarah curled her lip at it. Damn. She had promised to dress the part, as well. "How about this? You have such lovely pale skin. I think it will match your complexion nicely." He spoke to her cheerfully, with an honest smile to boot. It nearly struck her again how unimposing he was. Usually, if a man spoke to her in such a way, she would regard it as less than platonic. But not from Lochlan. No, Lochlan really was just...friendly.

"Sure," she said, walking towards him and taking the gown from his grasp. She turned away from him then, wondering where the hell she was supposed to get changed…

"There's a changing curtain against the wall there. Feel free to use it. Or, I can step out if you wish." His attention was kept on the trunk as he closed it back up, his tone detached and frank. Sarah looked away from him again.

"I'll just use the curtain, I guess." A part of her wanted to ask him to leave. She still didn't know him very well and she knew enough from her experiences with Jareth that appearances could be deceiving. At the same time, she felt the need to redeem herself from being subjugated by that man. She needed to be strong, confident, unintimidated by male presence. It was with this reasoning that she drew the curtain and changed without hesitation.

When she finished changing, she emerged from behind the curtain rather awkwardly, smoothing out the skirt as if it stuck to her in all the wrong places. It was thinner than the one she'd worn to meet The King, more comfortable even. It had a slight sheen and a low, square neckline. Simple embroidery decorated the waist and the hem of the skirt. It was long-sleeved, tightly fitted and, actually, very lovely.

Lochlan, having been sitting on the edge of the trunk, now stood to greet her.

"Looks like it's the right fit. Good," he said, approvingly. Sarah blushed a little, though she didn't know why. As far as compliments went, that was probably the least direct she'd ever heard. She looked down over herself and stepped towards him.

"Yeah...I kinda like it, actually," she said, slipping on a pair of black slippers she noticed he'd also lain out for her.

"I'm glad. It suits you." She brushed her hair behind her ear and, when she turned back to face him, saw he'd offered her an arm. "I know it's a bit rushed, but you'll have plenty of time to acclimate yourself later. For now, If I could be so bold, may I escort you to dinner, milady?"

The dining room was not far, Lochlan assured, and only two floors below them. Sarah observed all she could as they walked, wanting to learn her way about the castle as soon as possible. It was daunting to say the least -physically massive, like the halls had been made for the comfort of giants. And there were so many twists and turns, it was like a labyrinth in and of itself.

After a few minutes of nothing but echoing footsteps, Sarah gave in to break the disquiet.

"So...who's going to be at this dinner?" she asked. If Jareth, she, and Lochlan were the only one's there, that was sure to make things awkward…

"A few of the residents," Lochlan answered. Sarah peered up.

"I thought there were no residents?"

Lochlan caught her gaze and arched a brow.

"Ah. I suppose what I mean to say is a few of the staff -who happen to reside within the castle," he explained. Sarah pursed her lips.

"Oh? I would have thought that to be...inappropriate or something."

"Normally yes." They paused as Lochlan opened a door for her. "However, as Jareth has no court, the day-to-day can be a bit isolating The workers gather for dinner each evening as a means of maintaining some form of social interaction." And now Sarah was frowning. Geez. That sounded bleak. Imagining how often these people were left on their own in this enormous castle had her worrying for her own sanity in the coming days. It was all so...empty.

"Oh," she said, and nothing more. Not picking up on her introspection, Lochlan glanced down at her with a grin.

"Yes. We've become a rather odd little family in that regard. You'll find things are run much more casually here than...well...anywhere, really."

Sarah was about to probe him about his use of the term family when they rounded a corner and caught sight of a troupe of women chatting outside a large set of double doors. Sarah paused for a split-second, though Lochlan failed to notice and continued to bring her towards them with ease and familiarity. Sensing their approach, a couple of the women glanced over and their brows raised. Such looks earned the curiosity of the remaining women, who cut their sentences short and turned to stare at them as well. Sarah saw Lochlan had a smile on his face. She fought the instinct to grip his arm.

"Lord Leche? Oh good, so you really are back-"

"What do you mean really? I told you he was onboard. Why must you always doubt me?"

"Because you are a terrible gossip."

The woman who'd spoken first -a lithe looking blonde- scowled at the second, looking down her nose and, very blatantly, restraining herself from nudging her with an elbow. The second woman -a compact redhead with heavy freckles- stifled a giggle as she glanced away mischievously. There were five of them, Sarah counted. All very, very different from one another, and yet all extremely attractive.

A third woman -of an olive complexion with dark eyes and hair- stood with her arms crossed, and arched one brow as she gestured at Sarah with her chin.

"Not terrible enough it seems. Look, he's brought a guest."

"A guest?"

"Good evening, ladies…" Lochlan said, his tone falling low as he interrupted their prattle, and brought himself and Sarah to a stop a few feet away from them. Sarah felt her jaw tensing as she tried to stand as tall as they did. She could not help comparing their appearances, and felt suddenly insecure. They wore gowns as simple and modest as her own, but they seemed to fill them out much more elegantly. Their hair was also done rather extravagantly and their make-up was immaculate. Sarah's eyes darted away from them. It'd been two days since she'd even showered…

"Good evening. Did you have a safe voyage?" a fourth one asked. This one was a bit mousy, with dull-blonde hair and pale eyes. Lochlan's grin faded and he nodded his head.

"Perfectly," he answered, then cocked his head as he regarded them curiously. "What are you all doing out here? Surely I hope you were not waiting on my account." Sarah noticed several sets of eyebrows rising in a look she recognized as bashfulness. These brows were accompanied by pursed or puckered lips, and Sarah's suspicion was confirmed. Oh my, were several someone's crushing on Lord Leche?

"Undoubtedly, yes," answered the first woman -the only one seemingly confident enough to stare him square in the eye. Sarah took particular notice of her posture, the way she angled herself in front of the other women, and she inferred from this that she must be their leader. "It wouldn't do to start our meal without you. And Greta was just so certain you were here...somewhere." And her eyes rolled slowly down to Greta -the second woman, the shortest of the five and, apparently, a terrible gossip. Sarah wondered if that was her real name. Surely not?

"Although it seems her intel, however, was sorely lacking. Who is this on your arm? You did not mention we were getting a new maid."

Sarah's eyes turned to the third woman, the one who still held her arms crossed, and narrowed her eyes in confusion. Though it was not in reaction to what she'd said. The woman was already staring Sarah down, giving her a steeled, unimpressed look that featured a wry curl of the lips. What?

"Right, Avana's post has been open for quite some time, hasn't it? Oh, what a nice surprise. And just look how pretty she is!" Greta exclaimed, clasping her hands together and smiling with glee as she spoke. Sarah's brow continued to twist.

Lochlan's grin curled on one side and he shook his head.

"Heh, no. I doubt Avana's post shall be filled any time soon," he said and the gaggle collectively frowned. He turned to Sarah then and gave her a reassuring smile. "Though you do remind me of my poor manners. Forgive my lack of introduction. This is Lady Williams. Miss Williams, these are the castle's maids." Sarah's eyes, slightly strained with awkwardness, turned from Lochlan back to the gaggle, and she gave them a clipped nod.

"Ah. I see. Nice to meet you," she said, trying her damned-near-hardest not to rake her eyes from head to toe over every single one of them. The fifth woman had yet to speak. She had a long face and light brown hair. She stood in the back and, more or less, kept her eyes averted in a way that seemed timid.

"A pleasure indeed, My Lady," said the first woman, and then they all bowed their heads. She glanced at the other four and it seemed, to Sarah, some unspoken dialogue had just passed between them. "I hope you'll forgive our presumption. It simply isn't often we entertain guests."

"Oh, I don't mind. My arrival wasn't exactly announced," Sarah said, waving off the issue with false pleasantry.

"Yes, this is all rather last minute," Lochlan added, placing his hand over top Sarah's forearm where their arms were still locked in a friendly manner. Women two and three both locked eyes on the gesture, though Sarah failed to notice.

"Forgive me for being forward but-" woman number three interjected -the one whose stare was still so sharp. All attention was cast to her on reflex. "-I assume you will be joining us for dinner. May I ask the purpose of your visit?"

Sarah hesitated before responding, registering the collective expressions of the maids as one of intrigue and confusion. Did they not know about Jareth's marriage prospects? Sensing Sarah's moment of trepidation, Lochlan spoke up for her.

"Actually, Miss Williams is not visiting. She shall be staying here with us. She is to be our new Mistress."

Sarah's eyes widened at his phrasing, but it failed in comparison to the mirrored looks of gross surprise that such news earned from the women.

"What?"

"Really now, is that any expression for a Lady to make? Shut your open mouths, all of you." Like a snare, all five gapes clamped shut and the band of ladies stood rigidly as Sarah's attention veered to the left. There was a woman approaching them, an older, much more soured looking woman. She looked middle-aged, and wore a highly conservative black gown with her hair pulled tightly back. From her peripheral, Sarah caught the women bowing their heads in deference, and briefly wondered if she should do the same...

"Forgive us, Madam," the first woman said, clasping her hands and seeming to angle herself forward to represent the lot of them. Sarah looked up at Lochlan. His expression was unphased.

"That's better…" The elderly women joined them and glared at the girls with hands on hips, before smoothing away all traces of annoyance and peering over to her and Lochlan with a well-practiced smile. "Lord Leche, welcome back," she said, and dipped her head. Lochlan dipped his as well.

"Thank you. I trust all was well in my absence?"

"Quite." She turned her attention away from Lochlan and onto Sarah. "Please forgive my punctuality, My Lady. I was not aware you would be joining us," she said, and bowed her head once more.

"That's okay. I wasn't really expecting to stay…" she said, unsure of how to conduct herself. The woman flashed a smirk and cast her stare through her.

"Nevertheless, I fear our maids have done you a discourtesy. I could not help to overhear you are our new Mistress?"

"Oh. Um...yeah...I guess?" she half-answered, wincing as she glanced up to Lochlan for a cue. His smile stretched further.

"Absolutely."

"I see. That's wonderful," the Madam said, though whether or not there was any sincerity to the phrase was totally indiscernible. She bowed her head again and carried on. "I am the castle's Matron. You may call me Madam Miri."

Sarah blinked. Was that...her real name?

"I'm sorry, I'm unfamiliar with the title. What is a Matron?"

Madam Miri lifted her head and blinked in kind, visibly caught off guard as she finally realized Sarah wasn't from around here.

"No apologies necessary," she said, unevenly. "A Matron is a head of household. That is, I manage the domestic staff here serving the castle," she explained, which now made the maid's visceral reactions to her scolding make sense.

"Oh, I see. It's a pleasure to meet you," Sarah said, bowing her head awkwardly and hoping she was supposed to do so. This felt different than her interactions at the garrison. It was hard to gauge the proper level of formality at work here. Rather than respond verbally, Madam Miri dipped her head in acknowledgement. Sarah felt Lochlan's posture shift, and she glanced up at him in reaction to it.

"Madam, as you may have heard, Miss Williams will be staying with us permanently," he said, and glanced down at Sarah with a happy little smile. "I'd like for us all to welcome her warmly." Sarah's eyes, becoming increasingly flighty in response to Lochlan's misplaced sense of familiarity, darted away to the women, which allowed her to once again catch a glimpse of their wide and bemused expressions. But exactly why they were so damn surprised was a question she felt was more suspicious than it should have been.

"Without a doubt," the Madam said, calling back Sarah's attention. "Please, Mistress, allow me to introduce our maids. This is Sirene, Greta, Talia, Arlyn, and June. Should you need anything at all, please feel free to ask it of any of us."

Sarah blinked. Okay. That was a lot of first names. Was it rude to ask if they were pseudonyms? Why was she getting so hung up on the name game? What's more, were they really limited to calling her Miss Williams or Mistress? She didn't quite like that.

"Thank you. I'm very new here, so It's much appreciated." Sarah smiled forcefully as she spoke. She could feel the ogling eyes of the maids staring at her and it was beyond awkward.

"So you are a human?"

Sarah, Madam Miri, and Lochlan all glanced over at a now very panicked-looking Greta, who quickly covered her mouth with her hands. The Madam frowned, but before she could berate the poor girl, Sarah spoke up with another false smile.

"Yes. Yes I am. I'm from the other world, actually."

If Sarah thought the lot of them looked surprised before, she could do little to describe the looks they were giving her now. Even Talia, the grumpy one who'd kept her arms crossed, straightened her posture and drew her brow tight.

"The other world? Really?" This time it was June who spoke, the shy brunette who'd just made her first utterance into the conversation. She took half a step forward from the back, her dull-grey eyes brightening with intrigue.

"Um...yep. I take it, that's surprising?"

The women exchanged glances and then looked back at her with some sort of shared understanding.

"Quite," said Arlyn. The fourth woman. She had been rather quiet up until now as well, leaving Sarah to wonder why she was getting the feeling that the more dominant three were now biding their time. "We've never met a human from Above before."

"Though they do pass through, from time to time." Sarah looked over sharply at Talia. Her gaze had turned hard and scrutinizing once more, and Sarah hoped, she really fucking hoped, that this woman would not cause her any trouble later on. They were maids, yes, but Lochlan had said things operated more casually here, and she had a pretty strong suspicion that their masterfully-crafted bone structure was by no means a coincidence, and that they served much more than the castle.

Sarah's eyes narrowed in distaste and she pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth. She did not yet have any grounds to be angry about this. She'd literally just arrived and it was still unclear whether or not Jareth had actually accepted her proposal. He could fuck whomever he wanted...for the time being. Regardless, she was only human and could already feel her, quite frankly nasty, sense of possessiveness kicking in.

However, knowing this was not the time nor place, Sarah took quick note of each and every one of these quips and filed them away in the back of her mind. At present, Talia's words were more interesting than her tone, as Sarah realized she was making a reference to past labyrinth runners.

"So I've heard," Sarah replied, keeping her tone light but her words short. Before the air could permeate with tension, the group was distracted by the sound of male voices chatting from down the hall. Sarah looked over, around Lochlan, and spied on three figures -none of whom were Jareth.

The women took a step back to welcome them into the circle, and Madam Miri moved to join them as well.

"Ah! Leche! I thought I spied you at the docks! I didn't think you'd be back so soon!" They were still a few paces away, so the man who'd spoken had done so rather loudly. The amount of good cheer in his voice caught Sarah off guard, though she was thankful for it. She released Lochlan's arm and took a step away as they all turned to face one another.

"Yes...you know how I pride myself on efficiency," Lochlan said, with absolutely no pride at all. Sarah grinned. Humility suited him well.

The three men now stood before them. The one who'd called out was in the center of them and the tallest. He was the most well-dressed as well. He sported what looked to be military gear, though distinctly different from the uniforms of the soldiers she'd seen at the garrison. It flaunted pretty detail and, in lieu of any actual armor, looked to be more tactical in function. The other two dressed casually, with dirt-stained pants and over-coats. Their faces were tanned and did not look nearly as refined as everyone else's.

"Haha indeed," the man said and glanced away. "I see dinner has not yet begun. I feared we would be running late with that shipment, and here you all are loitering in the hall. What a relief."

"Good evening Madam, ladies," a second man said, and all three bowed their heads as if the sentiment extended for them all. "Good evening," they all replied, with a sense of femininity that had been sorely lacking from their previous conversation. Hm. Maybe Lochlan wasn't so special after all.

"Ah, and who is this? A new maid I see?" It was the tallest gentleman who'd spoken, now turning his attention directly to Sarah who, once again, paled awkwardly on the spot.

"No, not a maid. She is to be the castle's Mistress," Madam Miri informed. Surprise reflected on the men the same way it had the women, and it was a look Sarah was already bored with. Somehow sensing Sarah's impending irritation, Lochlan took a step back and lightly pressed a hand against the small of her back.

"Allow me to introduce Miss Williams. Yes, she is a human. Yes, she is from the Aboveground. And yes, she will be our new Mistress." Sarah bit her cheek in the effort to suppress a spiteful grin. Lochlan was trying to handle her again. At least, in this instance, she appreciated it.

The trio of men bowed before her, the tallest one placing a gallant hand over his heart as he did so.

"I see. What a lovely surprise. Welcome, My Lady," he said, and the three of them straightened. Lochlan glanced down to Sarah.

"This is Captain Merek. He operates all military activity on the isle," Lochlan said. Sarah nodded.

"Yes. I take a great deal of pride in the capability of my men. Even if you cannot see them, there are guards everywhere. If you are ever in need of assistance, please, never hesitate," Merek said, which, from the strength of his eye-contact alone, registered as a deeply moving statement to her. He really meant it. More than that, it was like he implored it. She'd have to ponder that later...Lochlan wasn't finished introducing her yet.

"Of course. Thank you…"

"And this filthy gent is Bastian. He is Faengsal's game warden."

The man on the right, presumably Bastian, bowed his head with a smile. Sarah narrowed her eyes. What the hell kind of job was that?

"And lastly, we have Dermot. He is the castle's Patron. Meaning, in contrast to Madam Miri here, he oversees the obligations of the castle's male staff. I doubt you noticed, but you crossed paths when we first docked. He was helping load cargo." Sarah nodded like she understood and gave them all a polite smile.

"Yes. I, however, remember seeing you, undoubtedly. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance -as surprising as it is." Dermot smiled awkwardly and averted his eyes, which meant, to her, that he was entirely aware of her marital circumstances.

"I think we can all agree that surprising is a massive understatement," Sarah said, laughing exasperatedly as she rolled her eyes away. This seemed to lighten the mood for all of them and so, as if on cue, Lochlan turned and gestured towards the doors.

"Surprising, refreshing, exciting. It's all the same really. But, now that introductions are out of the way, shall we finally take our seats? You've got to be starving by now."

"Yeah...about that…"

"I know I am!"

Sarah's nervous mumble went unheard as a very excited Captain Merek stepped through the circle and pushed open the dining hall doors. This was permission enough for the rest of them to follow, leaving Sarah jittery and at the back of the bunch as they all walked away from her. Lochlan, still standing at her side, glanced down curiously.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Sarah, finally allowing the disconcertion to show through her wringing brow, found it hard to tear her eyes away from the backs of the odd little family she'd just met.

"Yeah, just...a little overwhelmed, I think."

Lochlan frowned. Perhaps he should have been more observant. Of course this would be too much for her. He was just so happy to have her there.

"Understandably so," he said, with sympathy. Sarah peered up worriedly. "You're doing very well. Surely, this place is not as bad as you'd expected?" He watched her brow draw tight before glancing into the dining hall once more. She saw the group of fae all conversing with one another, with smiles, with ease, as they took their seats at one end of a very large dining table. It seemed so normal. And yet so intimidating. And what of Jareth? Where the hell was he? She still had a bone to pick with him…

"No...definitely not what I expected."

---

By the time Sarah and Lochlan joined the rest at the dining table, almost everyone was seated. She observed the ladies, in some descending order no doubt, seated themselves on the right and the men on the left. Captain Merek and Dermot were still standing, chatting distractedly about something that had to do with the latest shipment of goods, and the maids were all giggling among themselves in hushed tones. Sarah noticed a large, throne-like chair at the head of the table, left vacant, along with the two seats immediately to it's left and right. Lochlan led her to one such chair, placed next to Madam Miri.

Sarah stood, tentatively, watching Lochlan as he rounded the table to sit directly across from her. He gave her a look of encouragement and took his seat. Begrudgingly, Sarah did as well.

The atmosphere was far too casual for her liking. None of them paid her any mind, and the chair at the head of the table remained empty.

Without breaking from their conversation, Merek and Dermot took their seats, and only a moment or so later were a number of goblins scurrying in from a door across the room, carrying covered trays of food.

Their meal was laid out for them wordlessly, and Sarah was the only one to regard their servers as they moved about. Sarah wondered what manner of dining etiquette would be expected of her, and was thus confused and wary when she observed none as everyone removed the lids from their trays and began to eat without the slightest preamble.

Sarah's eyes, wandering down the line of hungry fae and then back up again, eventually landed on Lochlan, and she blanched to find he was already looking at her.

"Are um...are we not going to wait for J-His Highness?"

There was a pause at the table, noticeable, and no one said anything right away. Lochlan gave her a sympathetic look and folded his napkin in his lap.

"No. His Highness does not usually dine with us."

Sarah frowned, unable to discern the strange tension about the table.

"Why?" she asked. She glanced to the side, down the line of maids who now kept their eyes averted or on their plates. That was...interesting.

"His Highness is very busy. He does not often have the time to dally with the likes of us," Madam Miri answered. Sarah looked over at her, eyeing her intently, but only received a perfectly steeled expression in response.

"Oh," Sarah said. Well fuck. She couldn't decide if this was more or less awkward. What the hell was she supposed to do now? The waft of the food in front of her begged her attention, which had her stomach growling angrily. She clasped a hand over it and scowled. No. She would not dare eat a single thing until she heard, with her own ears, the explicit words "yes, I will marry you" from Jareth's mouth. But, even as she thought this, even as the conviction firmly rooted itself in her mind, her mouth watered at the sight of well-brined chicken and roasted vegetables. Goddamn. It was like she'd never seen something so appetizing. "So...is this the dinner crowd? Where is everyone else? I thought I saw more people working outside…" she said, in the weak effort to distract herself.

"My men are still unloading this month's cargo into storage. Otherwise, they would be here as well," Dermot said. Sarah looked down the table at him. He sat beside Merek, who sat beside Lochlan. Furthest down was Bastian, who looked to be content with the quiet consumption of his meal.

"Oh. I see."

"There are also the kitchen staff," Lochlan added. "Although, they, for obvious reasons, are unable to dine with us here. They take their meals downstairs. I imagine, unless you venture down there yourself, you shall never see any of them."

"And the soldiers?" Sarah asked, turning to look at Merek.

"They operate in shifts and have their own private barracks beneath the castle. Honestly...I should probably be out on patrol during such a time. Though that is the benefit of being the Captain, isn't it? My being here is sheer privilege!" And he did not sound the least bit guilty for it. He was smiling, savouring his meal with hearty appreciation, and Sarah couldn't help but chuckle.

"And you Bastian? What does a game warden do, exactly?" she asked, leaning a little further over the table to look at him. Bastian paused with his fork raised to his mouth, then lowered it in preparation to speak.

"I control the local wildlife from wreaking too much havoc. I'm also the stable master, and care for the horses and other such beasts of burden."

"Hm...local wildlife...do you mean the goblins?"

"And others."

Sarah was about to inquire further when Dermot spoke next. "There are many, many, wicked beasts that plague this island, Mistress. I urge you take caution should you ever venture outside-"

"Outside? Why ever would she do that?"

Collective stares peered over at Talia, who was grimacing and waving a hand in disgust.

"Excuse me?" Sarah asked.

"Take it from me, the land outside these walls is a dreadful place. After the last season, I can't fathom why any sensible person would want to subject themselves to it. The heat, the dust, and the-those goblins. Bleh."

"Spoken like a proper Lady," Merek mumbled, with amusement, into his cup. Apparently such a comment was an insult, as Talia huffed and rolled her eyes away in response. Sarah's brow drew a little.

"The goblins never bothered me. Nor the desert for that matter." She spoke plainly, her expression stern as she gradually looked away. Greta leaned forward with intrigue.

"The desert? You were here for the previous season?" she asked. Sarah, having given in to take a sip of her water, paused just as the rim of the glass touched her lips.

"Um...I think?" Seasons. What the hell was up with these seasons they kept mentioning? Greta, with both hands grasping the edge of the table as she stared over at Sarah, almost relaxed. Until some sort of lightbulb went off, that is.

"Wait...you're not...you're not a runner, are you?"

There was something about the way she'd asked that question that made Sarah a bit nervous. She was staring at her very intently and now, when she had not immediately responded, so was everyone else. Sarah lowered the cup back to the table and licked her lips. Why the hell...was this such a big deal?

"...yes?" she said, and the table gasped. Sharp inhales were taken and worried glances exchanged. Sarah drew back in her seat. "Why do I get the feeling you're all deeply shocked?"

There was a bit of a pause before anyone responded. They were all still looking around at one another. And then, finally, it was Sirene who spoke up.

"Forgive us," she said, shaking her head subtly with disbelief. "It's just...well...we did not think there were any left alive."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Sensing an air of alarm rising in Sarah's voice, Lochlan shifted in his seat and called over her attention. She glared at him, though he forced himself to smile.

"She means that very few runners survive to the end," he said, as if that would be enough to assuage her. The look in Sarah's eye was now twinged with abhorrence.

"And the ones that do…."

"The ones that do, what?" Sarah asked, looking sharply down the line back at Talia, who was, ever-so-surreptitiously, speaking and looking down into her cup.

"Well...it seems our intel was misinformed on that subject as well…" she said. Sarah glared. Alarm now morphing into suspicion.

"His Highness plays a very dangerous game," Lochlan said, urging her attention back to him. "You undoubtedly know that. It is not often that competitors make it out unscathed, if they make it out at all. You should take pride that you won."

"Oh, believe me, I do," she assured, feeling very much put-off from this dinner and the myriad micro-aggressions she'd already waded through. Honestly, she wasn't even entirely sure what she was so mad about. Maybe it was just the look on Talia's face. Maybe she was just hangry. Regardless, these strangers were not the ones whom she needed to be discussing these things with. She glanced down and shoved way from table

"Something the matter?" Lochlan asked. Sarah paused and met him in the eye. "I notice you haven't touched your plate yet. Is it not to your tastes?"

"No. No, it looks delicious," she said, and took a deep breath. "But...if I eat it then I'll be trapped here. I think I'm just still...reluctant to believe he actually wants to marry me," she explained. She was glancing down at her meal, and was thus startled by the sounds of more than one fork clattering onto a plate.

"What?!" Greta exclaimed, lunging herself over the table as she stared over at Sarah with a huge, beaming expression. "You're marrying His Highness?" There was shock in her voice. Blatant shock. Something which was mirrored to perfection in the silent expressions of almost every other person sitting at the table. Sarah's eyes darted. Madam Miri, who was sitting directly beside her, was the only one (aside from Lochlan of course) who did not look quite so amazed. Instead she stared down at nothing with a tightly twisted brow.

"Greta, have you no class at all? Sit down immediately," she lectured, through a locked jaw. Greta obeyed, her impulsive fervor lulling as she lowered back into her chair. Sarah tried not to acknowledge how awkward it had just become. Miri glanced up and gave Sarah a polite smile. "Forgive her, Mistress. It is easy to forget one's manners in a place like this."

Sarah pursed her lips. Everyone was watching her. She didn't really know...how to react.

"It's alright. No reason to apologize…" and she leaned forward to direct her next comment at Greta specifically. "And um...it looks that way, yeah." Her words were awkward and so was the tension brimming about everyone else. Sarah sat back in her seat, feeling a little confused. "Is the title of Mistress supposed to mean something else?"

She looked up at Lochlan for an answer. His face twitched with an embarrassed, apologetic smile. He shrugged and trailed his eyes down the length of the table.

"Forgive me…" he said, nervously. "I suppose I should have been more explicit in my introduction. Miss Williams will in fact be the castle's Mistress, by way of her marriage to His Highness, that is."

Sarah's eyes followed Lochlan's and locked on those of Sirene. She looked surprised, but not with the same sense of passion as Greta or Talia. In fact, she looked a little...sad. Arlyn and June kept their gazes strictly averted.

"I see. Please, do forgive us Miss Williams. When Lord Leche said Mistress, we assumed you were merely sent to manage the castle. Perhaps as an understudy to Madam Miri. We never-"

"Wait, are you saying he actually agreed to the union?" Talia interrupted, and sounded damn-right offended at that. Sarah peered around Sirene and scowled.

"Pretty sure it wouldn't be happening otherwise."

"Well I think that is splendid news," Merek interjected. Sarah peered over, though her expression was still well-guarded. She could sense many a nasty thing now emanating from Talia, and wondered whether or not to bother engaging in the pissing match she so obviously wanted to start. "It's about time he settled down."

"But you're a human-"

"And?" Sarah snapped.

If there had been a timer on the table it would have chosen that very second to start counting down. Sarah's eyes had veered back to Talia, daring her to make a scene. However, the impudent fae, as grumpy as she was, was wise to show a moment of restraint. Sirene, sitting in equal distance between the two, turned from one to the other, and then cocked a very shrewd brow at her fellow maid.

"And that obviously means absolutely nothing in the eyes of His Majesty, so why ever would it mean anything to you, Talia?" she asked, her voice light in the effort to diffuse the brewing tension. As Sarah observed, she noted that Talia was the only one who was displaying any type of aggression towards this news. Honestly, she found that surprising. The other women looked, if anything, overtly cautious.

"I…" Talia started, and, as Sirene's stern gaze, now accompanied by that of Madam Miri, pierced through hers, she decided to change directions. "-forgive me, My lady. That was wrong of me to say. I'm just...very surprised." The words sounded forced but not quite as painful as Sarah had expected. With a dismissive huff, Sarah rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat.

"You're not alone there," she grumbled, and glowered at the table's surface pensively. It was quiet for a moment, and then she heard Lochlan speak.

"Miss Williams?"

"Sorry-" she interjected, too sharply for her own liking. She shook her head and took a breath. Surely the lot of them were still just staring at her all wide-eyed and befuddled. She couldn't bring herself to look up and find out. "-I think all the nostalgia is putting me off my appetite," she continued, in a much calmer tone. "I...I just need some air. If that's alright."

"...Of course. You do not need anyone's permission here."

"Please excuse me, then."

She stood and left the table. Her gaze was absent as she forced herself to ignore the immediate nervous mumblings of the fae ladies no doubt brimming and absolutely mad with gossip. She was irritated. So thoroughly irritated that she wondered where exactly it all stemmed from. She'd expected them to be surprised. She'd expected them to judge her. And yet...and yet still she let them get to her. She was being stupid. Their opinion of her did not matter and she knew, behind all the annoyance, she knew that Talia's condescension probably had less to do with the fact that she was a human and more to do with the fact that she was a female who was not one of them.

She tried to use this bit of self-awareness to calm herself, giving in to fist her hands only after she'd exited the dining hall. She had no idea where she was going. She would probably find herself hopelessly lost. But that didn't particularly matter to her. She was hungry, angry, unsatisfied, and deeply suspicious. She wondered where Jareth was and why the hell he thought himself too good to join them for dinner.

She walked briskly at first, keeping her head low as she paced without objective. After a while though, calmer heads prevailed and she eased up. She'd known enough not to take any corners, so she wasn't concerned about finding her way back. With that said, she was now quite a ways away from the dining hall. The air felt cooler here. A slight breeze kissed her cheeks.

Curious of it, she walked further down. As the hall curved around the castle, a new light shone from up ahead. It was a deep, rich, orange hue that could only have come from the setting sun. As the bend let out, Sarah caught sight of a series of paneless windows that opened the entire side of the castle to the world beyond. She hadn't realized how late it'd gotten. The sun, distant and smothered behind a veil of cloud, just barely peaked from behind a rolling range of hills. Sarah's pace slowed as she gazed at it, at the way the sky melted in hues of orange and red and purple, and soft beams of light broke between the highlands to leave pools of shadow that stretched for miles across the land. It was all so dark and saturated. She'd never seen the labyrinth look so beautiful. She'd never seen anything like this at all.

The columns that separated the arched windows cast a series of stripes across the hall. She passed through them, waywardly wondering how far she could walk before such a glorious view would reach its end.

The idea made her a little sad and she stopped walking altogether. The breeze came again, stronger this time, and it was crisp and fresh and lovely. She inhaled deeply and her remaining frustration faded. There was a sparkle in the air. She knew it was just dust, but even still. It was beautiful.

She turned her attention away from the land, and froze. It was so quiet, so still, she'd never even noticed he was there. And, as she continued to stare at him longer and longer, she realized he had not yet noticed her either.

Sarah's jaw tensed and she gulped, feeling a sudden return of nerves as she debated whether or not this was a place she really wanted to be. She was alone. Unguarded. And caught unaware in the presence of a very dangerous-looking Goblin King.

He was sitting on the frame of a window, reposed and contemplative, as he stared out at the very thing Sarah had just been so enamoured by. One of his knees was drawn up, and his arms were crossed, while the other leg hung lazily over the window's edge unseen. She noticed he'd removed his coat, and instead now wore a dark blue shirt and a black cape that draped heavily over his shoulders. It glittered brighter than the dust in the air, reflecting colors of amber and gold as the sun cast its light upon him.

Realizing her mouth had gone dry, Sarah licked her lips before biting down on them. He looked like a painting. Something far too composed and rendered far too elegantly to be real. The same breeze that graced her cheek caught up the ends of his hair, and her eyes followed the movement around the contour of his face. His expression was somber. Vacant. Not at all the creature she'd seen only an hour earlier.

Knowing this was exactly the moment she'd been heading towards, Sarah swallowed her trepidation and approached him.

He was still a healthy distance away when she'd noticed him, which made the trek a rather awkward one. She kept her eyes trained solely on him, aware of her own anxiety and yet unable to keep herself guarded from it. Seeing him again had brought his taste to her tongue and it...was far from welcomed.

He did not acknowledge her as she approached. Even as she came to stand within a few feet of his side. She wondered what in the world he could be thinking about so intently. Or maybe she'd just kept her footsteps too hushed.

Finally, after a long moment, his head slowly turned. Sarah stood dumbly as the movement stopped halfway, although his eyes continued on to spy on her from his peripheral.

"Um...Hi," she said.

She felt like an idiot but it was too late. Rather than dart her eyes away awkwardly, she held his gaze, refusing to blink until he fully acknowledged her. This, however, did not happen. She only watched as he slowly blinked and turned his head back towards the horizon.

"You've wandered awfully far from the dining hall," he said, with a dead tone that fell slack in the air. Sarah felt the tug of a frown on her brow, like she was disappointed by such an impassive response, along with the stone wall his posture alone had erected between them. She continued to scrutinize him with her gaze, searching for any trace of the overbearing fiend who'd assaulted her so enthusiastically, and yet found nothing. She watched the profile of his face as he blinked slowly one more time, and she realized it was a deliberate mannerism. The markings around his eyes had faded too. Now they were almost completely transparent.

"It got a bit stifling," she said, trying her best to feel the waters before coming any closer to him. She regarded him like a wild animal, something mighty and majestic, and dangerous because of its beauty. Let sleeping dogs lie, she warned herself, feeling a near-instinctive urge to take a step back. She did, however, suppress this desire the moment it roused itself. That was sheer nerves talking. That was Lochlan's stupid warning from the previous night. Living up to Lochlan's expectations, she refused to be jaded by such opinions. But even with this firm bravado, she could not stop herself from flinching when he suddenly shifted on the window's ledge. She was just too damn nervous.

As the seconds passed, Sarah pushed through her quandary to realize he had no intention of responding to her. The tug on her brow now pulled at her lips, and she gave in to cross her arms defensively.

"...What are you doing?" she asked. She turned her sights on the setting sun, hoping to see whatever it was, if there was anything at all, that he found so captivating. Jareth's eyes closed and he let out a shallow breath.

"Absolutely...nothing."

His tone was deadpan but Sarah could not help but regard a sense of bitterness lurking underneath. She found that interesting, and gave in to take a step closer. She'd watched as his grip on his arms adjusted while he'd spoken. They did not tense per-say, but they did not relax either. He looked bothered. Maybe she was interrupting something…

"I'm sorry if I'm intruding. ...I'll leave if that's what you want." Her offer was baited but not entirely insincere. She angled her feet away from him and went to take a step back. Jareth's eyes darted over just as her face turned away-

"Stay."

Sarah paused. There was a command in his tone -repressed as it was. But more than that, there was impulse. She turned back and stared at him. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments, before he tore his sharply away to look back out the window.

"You may stay. ...If you'd like," he corrected. The latter half of his sentence was softer, not quite as detached as it seemed. Sarah pursed her lips and stared at him intently. Maybe she was projecting, but it seemed like he'd reigned himself just then. Like he was holding something back, and very consciously at that. Why she was so interested in his mannerisms, she wasn't entirely sure. Maybe it was because this man, who was once her childhood villain, was now her fiance. Maybe it was because he was to be the father of her children. Maybe it was because, even now, she could still feel the force of his tongue pushing against hers. She caught the movement of his head turning and he nodded towards the wall beside her. She glanced over and saw a table and chair she didn't think had been there before. She looked back to Jareth and when their gazes crossed, she swore his glimmered. "Sit."

She hesitated, for no other reason than to watch as he looked away from her once more. He exhaled, his posture otherwise immobile as he fell back into his original lax. Sarah, keeping her eyes on him, took a step back, pulled over the chair, and sat down.

"Why didn't you come to dinner?" she asked, after a moment of silence.

"It's easier that way."

Sarah scowled and tilted her head.

"Why?"

"I...unnerve them."

His tone was clipped, doing little for her satisfaction. She didn't understand what that was supposed to mean, but gathered enough from his carefully chosen words that he was not in the sharing kind of mood. She glanced away in thought.

"But...this is your castle. You're the Prince. You shouldn't be the one avoiding anything," she mumbled, voicing her thoughts. She was staring intently at the floor, thus leaving herself unaware of Jareth's gaze as it flickered back to her. He stared at her for a moment from the corner of his eye, at her curious words, and the supple pout of her lower lip as she pondered.

"It's a non-issue. I'm not one for the company anyway," he explained and, if he didn't know any better, might have said it was due to the queer want to relieve the faint look of displeasure he saw on her face.

Against whatever vague intention he may have had, Sarah's frown only worsened. Now it showed fully and she furrowed her brow. She turned towards the table and leaned back in the chair. Her arms crossed and her fingers tightened on her biceps. She lifted her eyes and gazed out over the labyrinth from a window a little further down the hall. The muted sun was now no more than a speck, but it's remaining light was still enough to illuminate everything about them. She spied on the abstracted shapes of the outermost parts of the maze. It all looked so peaceful from up here. She had yet to realize he was still staring at her.

"Oh. I wouldn't have guessed."

She kept her tone aloof, still in internal debate over how to best dissect this strange mood of his. Lochlan had warned her he was fickle. Was this what he meant? It was hard to compare his current temperament to her more lively experience from earlier. Another silence stretched but this time she did not care for it. Her spirit was draining and her gaze turned sullen as it fell over the hills.

She had no idea how many minutes passed as she lost herself to thought. And then, subconsciously, she raised a hand to her stomach. Beneath it all, she was still fucking starving.

"Are you hungry?"

Sarah peered over at Jareth with what appeared to be surprise, her eyes widened and audacious as they locked onto his. He wasn't expecting such a sharp reaction from her and his look only hardened. Both ignored the fact that, at some point, he'd turned his head to regard her fully. He saw the subtle twitch of her lip as she nibbled the inside of it. Her hand curled on her stomach, and then she frowned. Again.

"Uh...yes. A bit."

"Have you not eaten?"

"No...not yet." She felt nervous now, though not for the reason he might have guessed. She'd been feeling her stomach gurgling for a while now and wondered, with embarrassment, if his hearing was keen enough to pick up on it. His look gave her no tell however, and so she could only stew in her own subtle mortification.

Jareth watched her gaze fall low once more and his own narrowed on it in response.

"How long was your journey?" he asked.

"A few days. Why?"

Her posture stiffened a little when he suddenly shifted in his spot, drawing up his leg from the castle's exterior and in turn lowering the other to the floor in the hall. For a moment, she thought he might join her at the table, but he didn't.

"Your face is pallid," he said, turning his profile strictly away from her. "I assume that means you haven't eaten since coming here." He recrossed his arms and slouched against the window frame. Sarah eyed him curiously. He seemed a little grumpy all of the sudden. Then, unexpectedly, he shot her a sharp glare from his peripheral. "Eat."

With a confused frown, Sarah withdrew her gaze from him. She sat back in her seat, and then immediately realized there was now a covered tray waiting atop the table. She blinked at it in surprise and reached out for it, but caught herself, and he observed her carefully as she did so.

"Something wrong?" he asked. Sarah pursed her lips. The dang thing was still covered and already she could smell its delicious fumes. Her mouth was watering again. She only prayed her stomach stayed silent.

She lowered her hand back to her lap and turned to look him square in the eye.

"Yes, actually," she said, then turned her body to face him a little more. "Lochlan said if I eat anything from here I can never leave. He also said he's fairly certain about this whole proposal business. Sorry, but that's not good enough for me." She kept her eyes trained sternly on him but if her intention was to intimidate him with it, she failed. He arched a brow at her instead.

"No?" he asked, with a slightly amused inflection. Sarah narrowed her eyes.

"No. So, before I condemn myself to this dimension, I'd like to hear you say it properly."

And then he cracked a grin. Now that was an expression more familiar to her. He bore teeth as the expression stretched, and he unfolded his arms as he turned to face her. He angled his body at her with one shoulder pressed against the window frame. His left knee was still bent on the sil, and he draped his left forearm over it as he stared at her, his right foot now planted firmly on the floor. It was quite a pose, if she was being honest, though lost some of its effect by the heavy shadows cast over him by the falling sun in the background.

"Say it properly? My, whatever do you mean?"

He was teasing her. Although, unlike before, it was without malevolence. Sarah inhaled, reminding herself about that whole "poking lions" bit.

"You know exactly what I mean. I want your word, Jareth. I want to hear you say that you'll marry me."

The way she glared at him was so gosh-darn stern, he almost took it seriously. Jareth's smile stretched, and he found himself restraining a chuckle. He raised a challenging brow in her direction and tilted his head a little.

"And if I don't? Will you starve?"

He admired the way her brows drew together in disconcertion, and his grin curled on one side.

"Is this a joke to you?"

There was a snap to her voice now, whatever bits of nervousness she'd arrived with flying clear out the window. She really did look angry with him. And so quickly. It brightened her eyes in the fading light. He'd nearly forgotten how lovely he found them.

"Entirely."

Whatever reaction he was expecting to get, she surprised him by quietly testing his gaze. Then, after a determination was made, she huffed and looked away as she stood to her feet.

"Well then. Guess I'll be on my way."

The chair scraped against the floor roughly as she pushed it out of her way and took a step to leave. Jareth, surprised to be feeling surprised, stared after her as she paced away from him.

"Stop," he told her, and she listened. She planted her feet and turned back to glare at him. Her arms crossed and a sharp, yellow highlight caught on her pouting lower lip. "No need to be getting flustered," he said, and casually gestured back towards the table. "Eat."

"Not without an answer," she said. She'd turned around to face him but her feet remained in place. Jareth's eyes narrowed and he took in a shallow breath. He'd nearly forgotten her penchant for defiance too...

"I've given you my answer. Now, eat."

There was an edge to his voice that, contrarily, gave Sarah confidence. She raised her chin and stood a little taller.

"No. You haven't. I've learned a bit about your kind over these last few days, you know. Like the fact that you cannot lie when staking a contract," she said. Jareth cocked his head to one side.

"And?"

"And I think that's what you should do," she continued, releasing the frustrated grip she had on her arms and stalking her way back to her chair. She sat down in it ungracefully. "Swear to me that you will see this wedding through. If you refuse to even say something so simple then I really have no reason at all to trust you."

There was trace aggravation lining her voice, aptly reflected in her glare on him. Jareth's demeanor too had darkened, and it seemed her final comment had stricken away whatever sense of amusement he found in all this. He stood from the windowsill and walked towards her.

Sarah stiffened but was otherwise motionless as she watched his approach. The cut of his shirt hung loose and fell low down his chest, revealing a hint of pectoral muscle as his movements caused the tattered folds to span wider. She tore her eyes away from it, away from the familiar gold pendant that glinted at her over his sternum.

He kneeled before her on the floor, but still came to near eye-level. She drew back from him, from the sudden change in tone and proximity, emulating a sense of resolve when she really had none. God. Was she really so attracted to him? When the hell did that happen?

Oh. Right. The first moment they'd met.

Her breath hitched when he suddenly leaned forward, coming in close to her face, and she braced for a potential kiss. She was surprised when what happened was nothing of the sort, when she only blinked at him in confusion as he stared deeply into her eyes.

The markings were back. No longer faded. But were now a rich blue that complimented the cold intensity of his irises -just as crisp and beautiful as she remembered them.

He reached up to the table without looking, without breaking eye-contact, which left her wholly unprepared when he suddenly grabbed her chin with the other hand and jerked her mouth open. She gasped, recoiled, but did so in vain, as a sliced piece of fruit was shoved roughly into her mouth.

"Eat," he hissed, his tone bitter and brusque. Sarah's eyes went wide as she tasted the tang of a tangerine and she immediately tried to spit it out. Jareth, growling with impatience, pressed a gloved thumb over her lips and held her jaw clamped tightly shut while the other hand braced the back of her head.

He held her like that for several seconds, and she whimpered in confused distress. But, as their eyes remained locked, as she felt her mouth flooding with saliva and the pull of her taste buds betray her, she realized he would not let her go until she complied. And so, finally, belligerently, she chewed and swallowed. Jareth watched the bob of her throat and, only after he was fully convinced she hadn't faked it, he released her. The corners of her mouth were wet and, in a moment of distraction, she felt his thumb move, firmly, to spread it across her lips.

"There. Was that so hard?"

His voice was both hard and soft, and the distant look in his eye made no sense at all. Sarah, shocked and now terrified, continued to recoil -in expression if nothing else.

"What- how could you- how dare you-"

"I will marry you," he interrupted, which successfully killed her stammering. His eyes, which had since fallen to her mouth, now lifted to hers once more. He was so close to her. So calculated. Sarah felt her face enflame, and could only hope a blush would not follow. She wanted to lick her lips, to clean them of fruit juice and the saliva he'd smeared. However, with him so close she did not dare it. She only stared at him wide-eyed. "I give you my word," he continued, then slowly pulled away. He stood to his feet and turned his back on her. "Is that reliable enough?" She watched his cape slink behind him as he moved away, and suddenly she was compelled into action.

"Why?"

Jareth paused. Like he was caught off guard. Like he'd assumed his proximity and manhandling alone would be enough to subjugate her. He turned back and gave her a raised brow.

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to marry me?" she clarified. She looked abashed. Horrified even. And in truth, she kind of was. She could not think of a single reason why Jareth would be agreeing to this. And now- and now she was stuck here. He'd forced this on her. Just like that. Forever.

Jareth turned around, faced her fully, though leaned back against the column he stood closest to. His gaze averted from her, cast itself to the side and into the shadows, and he shrugged.

"Why not?"

"Are you serious?"

Sarah, confused and now angered, was about to stand to her feet, but the way he tilted his head as he shrugged a second time, for some reason, kept her seated.

"You asked if this was a joke. I concede you, it is not. Though, even you must admit, it is amusing."

"Amusing?"

She watched him with an aghast kind of glare. Watched him as he smiled and looked away. As his brow lifted and a memory played vividly behind his eyes.

"I still can't believe you're really here," he said, which struck her for all of two seconds. It was what came next that exposed his mischief clear as day. "When I think of what the look on my father's face must have been when he agreed to this...of what it will be when he learns I've finally said yes -to a human- ...Now that will truly be worth just about anything."

Sarah's expression fell deadpan. She really did just stare. This man. This asshole. Did he really just say that?

"You're kidding me. You're fucking kidding me," she said, dismay fleeting as a renewed sense of anger twisted her expression. He however, was totally unphased.

"No. Not you, at least."

"You expect me to believe you agreed to this purely out of spite? To fuck with your father? Are you fucking serious right now?!" She was so angry. So righteously angry. She wanted to jump to her feet but knew that if she did she would end up physically attacking him. Instead she gripped the edge of her seat. She gripped it with all of her might. Self-control was a virtue she was still working on.

"Does that bother you?"

The casual bounce in his voice was damn incessant and it sent her reeling. She needed to take a breath. To calm down. Why -why did she find that grin of his so infuriating?

"Why wouldn't it! You have no idea what I gave up to be here- No idea-"

"No, and I don't think it particularly matters." His dismissal of her outrage cut through what remained of her rant, and she found her mouth gaping open in disbelief. He was so nonchalant. So goddamn apathetic. The way he shrugged at her with a roll of the eyes was the most condescending thing she'd ever seen. "The fact is, you are here. You sought me. Willingly. You said it yourself, my magnanimous father came to you. You're here as a goddamn privilege. How can I not take advantage of such an unexpected treat?"

"But...but this is marriage we're talking about."

"And?"

"And does that mean nothing to you?" Her hand thrashed across the table and this time she nearly did stand. She couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe how trivial he was making it all seem. She'd just given up her entire life for this and he- he- he was making a mockery of it! "Lochlan told me you've been refusing suitors for years. And now all of the sudden you're jumping on board without a care in the world? It's just -just-"

"And during all of this informing, did my chipper little keeper happen to mention exactly why I've been refusing suitors?"

Sarah paused. She blinked. He was staring at her expectantly, like he damn well knew the answer already.

"What? ...No," she replied, skeptically. She felt the sudden veer in conversation take away some of her ire, and she used that moment to compose herself. Her eyes darted away. His narrowed.

"No. I thought not."

"So...there's a reason? I just assumed you didn't want to get married," she said, shaking her head a little as she looked back up at him. She looked a little thrown. His grin curled with distaste.

"Hmph. How trite." There was pretension in his tone, reflected by the sharp sliver that was his stare. He was glancing down his nose at her, crossing his arms, and then sighed as he rolled the look away. "In case you haven't yet picked up on it, my father is not exactly pleased with me at the moment. This whole marriage business is just another attempt to curb what he considers to be my more unsavoury nature. The desperation displayed by the presence of you -of all people- is, quite thoroughly, laughable."

"Well I'm so glad I get to be the butt of what is, undoubtedly, a very bad joke," Sarah snapped, feeling rather unamused with his priggish display. Jareth stifled a huff and his grin curled. That wasn't helping her temper any. "But aren't you thinking a little too highly of yourself Goblin King? From what I hear, it has nothing to do with you. He wants a second heir for political leverage."

One of Jareth's brows arched sharply and, for just one moment, he looked a little taken aback. His arms resituated and he crossed one ankle over the other.

"Oh, now there's a surprising bit of mis-information," he said, which had her brow drawing tighter. "Yes. I suppose he does want an heir for political leverage. In the way that he may then use it to write me out of the line of succession."

"What?"

Sarah gaped. Jareth smiled.

"Oh. Did they forget to mention that as well?" He spoke in a cheerful sing-song and his head tilted to the side. Sarah's scowl was falling to a frown. That was some heavy information he'd just laid on her, and with an entirely pleasant smile at that. "Beware, my dear-" he continued, and tisked a scolding finger at her "-Half-truths are my species' specialty."

Sarah's addled gaze fell to the floor, and she shook her head.

"They...they told me that my purpose was to be a wife. To bear children. To increase the strength of your family's claim to the throne-"

"And you agreed?" Jareth asked. Sarah looked up again. His expression was deriding. And then he huffed. "Still naive as ever, I see."

"Wh...why would he want to disinherit you?" she asked. And why the hell was Jareth playing it off so casually? It wasn't mere surprise she was feeling, but worry. She was worried. What the hell kind of situation did she get herself wrapped up in?

"I told you...he is not pleased with me at the moment."

"That seems a bit extreme don't you think?" she countered, turning flabbergasted, and wove an aimless hand through the air. "What the hell did you do that made him so displeased?"

She didn't realize there would be weight to that question. He did not respond right away, so she turned her attention back to him. She was surprised to find him glaring at her.

"You're doing an awful lot of talking," he said, curtly. "You should finish your meal before it gets cold."

There was silence wrought heavily with contention between them. Sarah stared. Glared. Just as he did at her. And it seemed they were now fighting a battle of wills as the issue hung evermore-dangerously overhead. Sarah narrowed her eyes. He wasn't budging. And somehow she knew he would stare her down all night if she let him.

"Does it have something to do with this mysterious research I keep hearing about?"

Now that certainly had an effect.

Jareth twitched. His brow drew tight. His hands gripped his arms tighter and he visibly recoiled against the pillar. She'd caught him off guard. Great. Say your right words, the goblins said….

"What?"

"Your research? The reason why you're stuck on this island?" She'd paint him a damn picture if that's what it took. He blinked at her, like he was genuinely confused, but she knew better than to play into it.

"They...told you of that?" he asked. For a moment, her response was silence. His expression had softened. The devilish grin now nowhere to be found. He was looking at her in a very interesting way, which had her worrying over the truth that, no, they really had not told her of that. Wanting to fish for as much information as possible however, she played it off as best she could.

"A bit." She kept her words frank, her poker-face steeled. Her efforts however, were entirely worthless.

"A bit?" Jareth repeated, and the subtle twitch in his eye told her he knew better. Damn. "And what exactly is a bit? Shall I call your bluff, Sarah?"

Sarah ground her teeth. She'd almost succeeded in disarming him. Though, despite his lack of answer, she now knew this was something of a tender subject for him. And that was information in and of itself.

"Or-" she posed, rolling her eyes at him as if pride was all she ever needed. "-you could stop being so cryptic and just tell me yourself."

The hauteur he recognized in her posture was like looking into a mirror, and honestly he found it rather irritating. However, not only were her arms crossed but now also her legs. She was angling away from him and turning, literally, defensive. And from that he knew she was forcing a front. He felt a tick in his jaw. The start of a very dastardly grin that he knew well enough to subdue.

"It's none of your business," he said, dismissively, and looked away before she could assault him with her glare. "Regardless, you needn't worry yourself over such things. While I think it funny to twist my father's arm in such a way, I have absolutely no intention of giving him what he wants."

"What he wants?" Sarah repeated. "You mean a grandchild?" Jareth was silent, but he nodded. "So, what, this is all a sham then? A marriage in name only?" she continued. Jareth peered back at her when she started shifting in her seat. She looked like she was getting ready to storm off. "You realize I swore to your father -The King- that I would do my duty in its entirety, yes? And, unfortunately in this instance, it does in fact take two to tango. If it means nothing to you then why the hell didn't you just marry some hoity-toity fairy princess or some shit? I could be home with my family right now!" Her temper showed in the rise in her voice as she spoke. She was almost yelling. Almost at her limit. Jareth, feeling a little bored with all the dramatics, sighed and lowered his head as he regarded her.

"But you're not," he said, simply. Sarah exhaled through her nose and held his gaze. "You chose to come here. And I've given my word."

The heated air between them lulled with the breeze, and Sarah felt her passions deflating fast. He was right. He was insufferable, but he was right. She was here. And now, she could no longer leave. Jareth had, in fact, given his word and Lochlan had said that a fae contact, once made, could not be broken. They were committed. Even if it was a farce. Even if it was nothing at all. They were committed to it. Her expression twitched with the acknowledgement, with the odd sense of comfort that then arose from the realization that Jareth, of all people, had just proved himself the most honest one of them all. This situation was...not as she expected. But that didn't make it bad. Yes, she'd given up her life, but it was not for this marriage. It was in exchange for the life of her father. The rest didn't matter. She'd make the best of these circumstances. Either with, or in spite of him.

"...At least there's that," she muttered, feeling suddenly very, very tired. Jareth, shaking his head ever-so-slightly, closed his eyes and straightened from the column.

"Indeed," he said, absently, and stepped back to the window. He turned around and placed his hands against the sil as he sat back against it. As he watched her, he noted her now troubled manner and the way her eyes stayed low. He cracked a grin in response. "So please, as I keep saying, just shut up and eat."

Sarah's narrowed eyes turned into nasty little things as she debated whether or not to allow him this victory. He was very clearly teasing her and, for the sake of their fragile relationship, she decided to let the quip go. She huffed, turned around in her seat, tossed back the lid on her tray, and ate.

But even in all her obstination, she could only keep herself quiet for a minute or two.

"You're an idiot."

If she'd had the interest to look up, she'd have seen him smile. She was, however, deeply engrossed in the pleasure of filling her stomach, and shoved forkful after forkful into her mouth with little tact.

"Is that the best you can do? I think I'd rather you strike me again."

A little surprised by the playfulness of his response, Sarah paused and glanced over at him.

"I very well might, you shifty-ass, pig-headed, megalomaniac."

"Ah. That's more like it."

The sun had set. The landscape behind him turned grey and muted, and it was now the light of the sconces on the wall behind her that gave him luminance. He was reclining so leisurely as he stared at her, his crossed arms devoid of the tension which once guarded him from her. She thought it odd, that hint of familiarity, that hint of comfort that seemed to ground them both in the moment. She'd tried, over all these years, to not think about him. To put everything that happened that day well behind her. It was terrifying, and magical, and...real.

And he was real. He was real, and he was here, and she was with him. And it was anything but terrifying and magical. She'd tried so hard not to think about him, that, as she regarded him now, she realized all she'd ever done was think about him.

Maybe that was why she'd agreed to Lochlan's terms so readily. Maybe that was why she was so accommodating of it all. She played the martyr, but she was anything but. Deep down she wanted to be here. She wanted to come back. She wanted something other then the mundane. She wanted, what she'd always wanted, was the future that stood before her now.

"You're not what I expected," she said, turning her attention away from him before her thoughts could damn her even further.

"Perhaps you should lower your standards."

"That's not what I meant," she replied, quickly. Then she paused. She lowered her fork and frowned. All her food was gone but that wasn't what bothered her. Expectations. The memory struck her. That's right. It was her expectations that set the tone. What was she expecting now?

What no-one knew was that the King of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl...

Feeling a flare of panic, Sarah quickly shook her head and pushed away from the table. Now that was ridiculous. That was not something she should be recalling right now. Feeling herself about to become a feminine cliche, Sarah sighed and pushed it all away. She looked back to Jareth with a neutral expression.

"I should get back...they're probably wondering where I went."

"Doubtful."

Sarah shrugged, acknowledging that he was probably right, but that was beside the point.

"Still. I'm pretty sure Lochlan will be concerned, at the least."

"Do you let him tuck you in as well?"

By now she had stood and was in the process of pushing in her chair. She paused at the rather brusque nature of his statement and glanced up at him.

"Would it bother you if I did?" she asked, challengingly. Jareth huffed, but did not otherwise respond. Sarah rolled her eyes and stepped away from the table. "Thanks for the food, Jareth. The tender love and care was much appreciated." She took a few steps away, half-expecting, half-hoping, he might tell her to stop again. But he didn't. He didn't say anything at all.

Sarah paused. This was harder than she'd thought. One foot was tugging to leave and the other was begging to stay. She turned back, hoping he had not picked up on her ambivalence, and saw he was already awaiting her stare. His expression was...unreadable. And yet, she found herself wondering why exactly he'd stuck by her so long in the first place. Maybe he was more for company than he let on.

"Goodnight," she said, and waited -though for what, she didn't know.

"Goodnight, Sarah." There. That was a response. Only now she found it even harder to leave. It sounded baited. It sounded as constrained as she was feeling. What the hell was this? Was she projecting again? In the end, she could do nothing more than turn away. This was too new, too foreign, too strange. She needed a shower and a good night's sleep. She'd wrangle everything else tomorrow.

---

Jareth stared after her as she left down the hall whence she came, his eyes lowering down the skirt of her dress as it swayed with each step. She fell into shadow. Fell out of sight. And still, he stared. It was quiet. After all that fussing, it was quiet once more. He'd wanted to be left alone. To regain himself. To realize the error he'd just made. And then she was there. And then she was looking at him. And then she stayed.

His gaze fell vacantly to the floor, and he felt something he no longer recognized. Something misplaced and unwelcome. Something that had him frowning in deafening silence. He did not expect to ever see her again. He did not expect...to want to.