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'.

7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7, Quaint

---

Sarah stared out at nothing as she made her way back to the dining hall. It was quiet, save for the sound of her own footsteps. It'd gotten dark, but the glow of sconces placed along the walls every ten feet was enough to guide her.

She felt odd. A little out of body. In disbelief over the fact that this was actually happening. She was actually stuck here. She'd tasted the fruit, and now it was real. She could never leave. Never see her family again. This was her home now. This dark, lonely, echo of a place.

She didn't understand why he'd chosen her. Why he'd been too proud to admit he wanted her at all. …But he did. He'd forced the proof of it down her own throat-

"Oh, Sarah, there you are. Finally."

Sarah looked up from the floor and spotted Lochlan at the end of the hall. She stopped and watched as he ran a slightly frazzled hand through his hair. "I was starting to get a little worried, you know-"

"Why?" she asked, brusquely. Lochlan paused his approach, his pleasant smile momentarily frozen in place.

"Ah...you've been gone for so long, I figured you must have gotten lost. That's all," he said, recovering from her scrutiny with angelic grace. Sarah's eyes were narrowed but not with suspicion. She was still feeling contemplative and it was hard to shake herself of the daze.

"Oh...no. I'm not lost. I was just heading back actually," she said, with a shrug. Lochlan's eyes scoured over her quickly.

"I see...had enough fresh air then?"

Sarah's eyes turned to the side.

"Yeah, I guess."

She gave in to cross her arms, and it was a show of frustration that confused Lochlan. She didn't look traumatized. The sentinels hadn't been roused. Actually, even in the diminished lighting, she looked a little flushed. Odd. He continued to observe her.

"I'm sorry if we put you off your dinner," he said, changing directions. "I suppose I should have made your role here more clear to them. Their reactions were...rude." He glanced at the floor and scratched the back of his head. Sarah tilted hers. "But please, don't let this one instance jade you. I've told you His Highness has been refusing suitors for a long time. If possible, I ask that you don't judge their surprise too harshly."

Sarah just stared at him for a minute. Was he...did he actually care for her opinion of them?

"Huh?" she responded, on instinct, and then shook her head a little. "Oh...right. Yeah, I don't really care about all that."

And now Lochlan looked surprised. His brow lifted and he cracked a one-sided grin.

"Really?"

Sarah, with her arms still crossed, shrugged one more time and glanced upwards at nothing.

"No. I expected it, honestly. I'm just glad it's out of the way now. Are they still in the dining hall?" With more important things on her mind than the possible prejudices of her castlemates, Sarah thought to keep the conversation as casual as possible. Lochlan's brow twitched and he glanced back down the hall whence he came.

"Oh, no. No, everyone has since retired for the evening," he said, and turned back to her with a smile. "You've been gone for quite a while actually." And then he placed a hand over his heart. "I'm sorry. I would have come looking for you earlier but I figured you would come back when you were ready. …And then dinner ended. Are you hungry? Surely, you must be. I'll join you if you'd like?" He sounded a little anxious and Sarah couldn't figure out why. He was being very kind. A little too kind. Was he really just worried about her? That seemed kind of silly. Unless...there was a reason she shouldn't be out alone at night?

"Thank you, but that's alright. I've...already eaten," she said, glancing down to the floor as a queer little blush randomly bloomed across her face. What the fuck? There was a pause before Lochlan replied. Just a little one.

"Oh?"

Why that one word felt so provoking to her, she would never know. Sarah's hands tensed on her arms a little, and she shrugged again.

"Yeah…I uh...ran into Jareth and...had dinner with him," she said, nonchalantly. She kept her eyes averted but could actually feel Lochlan's roaming over her.

"What?" he asked, and immediately checked his tone. His smile turned awkward before continuing in a more casual voice. "I mean...really? I'm surprised. How did that go?"

Sarah's eyes, looking anywhere but at Lochlan, were entirely too revealing. He found himself biting his lip with glee.

"Fine...fine."

"So you are, in fact, staying then? It's official?" His excitement over the matter was just barely restrained. In fact, Sarah could practically feel it tingling in the air around her.

"Yuppers."

She kept her jaw tight as she said that, as her crossed arms tightened even more. Lochlan took a few steps towards her to fill in the gap. He was smiling down at her. Widely.

"Wonderful. I told you he said yes."

Sarah's brow twitched before finally looking up at him. She knew just how insufferable his expression was going to be, and steeled herself for it. As expected, he looked like Christmas in July, and, not able to properly combat or mirror it, she rolled her eyes away just as quickly.

"Yeah...anyway, if dinner is over then I guess I should go back to my room, right?" she asked. She felt kind of awkward. What time was it anyway? What was she even supposed to do in this place? She highly doubted the Underground got cable.

"If you'd like," Lochlan replied, then offered her a hand. "May I walk you back?"

Her eyes were cast beyond him, but she accepted the gesture anyway.

"Sure."

They walked back to her room in silence, Sarah still engrossed in the over-analyzation of her and Jareth's talk. Lochlan, if he noticed her introspective mood at all, did not acknowledge it. They reached her door just as she remembered she now had a bone had to pick with him too.

"And...here we are," Lochlan said, releasing her arm and taking a step away. Sarah turned back and stared at him with a tight expression. He looked friendly, as usual, without a trace of guilt about him. Sarah felt her arms crossing over her chest again. "Do you need anything before I go?" he asked. Sarah licked the back of her teeth.

"Yeah, actually. You could answer a couple questions for me," she said, and pretended to kick a non-existent pebble across the floor. "Jareth and I...we had a very interesting conversation tonight-"

"Oh?"

Sarah's eyes darted up and locked on his. His response was quick, the perceived level of intrigue high. She chose her words carefully before continuing.

"Yes," she said, then slouched back against the door to her room. "Some of the things he said...were really quite alarming." She kept her tone coy hoping he might somehow slip up in reaction to it. However, rather than flighty, his attention on her gained focus. He held her gaze just as strongly as she held his.

"I have no doubt."

Oh. And now his tone was equally aloof. Sarah didn't much like that. She could feel a wall erecting itself between them now. Huh. So, maybe Jareth had been honest after all? She glanced away and tapped a finger against her bicep.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Lochlan? Maybe some...important details you may have left out about The King's motivation in all this?" She erred by looking away, as fleeting as it was. His reaction was that of surprise. He blinked, and the growing tension about him fell slack instantly. She peered back at him with a very serious look on her face, but now he was smiling.

"The King?" he asked, with a subdued bit of relief. Sarah cocked a brow, her expression conveying impatience. Lochlan's grin curled on one side, and he all too readily bowed his head in defeat. "Alas, I concede you. I may have left out...a few details that I felt were not relevant to our negotiation." Again, there was not an ounce of apology about him and Sarah wasn't sure how to feel. She wanted to be angry but…like Jareth had said, did the details really matter? Especially when weighed against the life of her father? They didn't at the time...perhaps that had been her mistake.

"Such as?"

She watched as Lochlan straightened and tilted his head at her. He was tall, dressed in all black and, for the first time, actually looked kind of imposing in the lowered light. She was nowhere near afraid of him, but her newfound suspicions made her aware of the fact that they were alone, in the dark, near her bedroom-

"What did he tell you?" he countered. Sarah shook her head.

"Uh-uh. Nope. You're going to fess up, Lochlan. I'm owed that much." She kept her posture strong with surprisingly little effort. He tested her gaze for a moment, and then sighed.

"Yes...you are."

His response surprised her, enough so that she started leaning up off the door as he turned and took a small step away.

"You mentioned The King's motivation? I infer you're referring to his desire for an heir?"

"Yeah."

"Then I presume you already know the answer to your question," he said, to her dissatisfaction. Sarah shook her head with annoyance.

"Well now I want to hear it from you. Jareth said his father wants to use our child to write him out of succession. Is that true?"

"Technically...yes."

"Technically?" Sarah repeated. Her eyes on him we're cutting, but he was not looking back at them. His posture was a little tense, the halfcocked smile still on his face straining. Sarah did not have the patience for this. "What about that story with the rising families? About strengthening the bloodline and Jareth settling down? Was that bullshit?"

She sounded angry now and it was something that had Lochlan snapping back to attention. There was a little tick in his expression, like he was nervous. Sarah didn't quite understand it.

"No. Nothing I've told you was a lie, Sarah," he said, sternly, and then reached up to readjust the lapels of his jacket. Sarah observed him closely. Why the hell was he so uncomfortable now? "Like I said, I simply left out what I considered to be irrelevant details."

"Seems pretty damn relevant to me," Sarah shot back. In a moment of frustration, she threw up her hands and glared away. "What the hell does that even mean, anyway? Technically?"

A tiny wince creased Lochlan's eye before responding.

"It is...as a last resort," he said, with some reluctance. Sarah raised a brow in demand to elaborate. "Jareth's sabbatical has taken longer than expected. His Majesty is...starting to feel some pressure from the nobles," Lochlan continued, then paused to inhale and exhale deeply. "Should Jareth fail to complete his work, he cannot become King. Should this happen, without a grandchild to replace him, His Majesty's bloodline will lose the throne they've held for thousands of years. Jareth perceives this as an effort to tame him, or even disregard him. When, really, His Majesty's only aim is to prevent further dissent."

"So...this is all about legacy then? That's it? Our marriage isn't just to bolster the ranks, it's an insurance policy?"

She wasn't sure if she would prefer an answer of yes or no, but what she did know was that he better not be fucking lying to her.

"Precisely. Yes."

His words were short, candid. Sarah loathed that she could not discern their sincerity.

"And? What if it comes time to cash in?" she asked him, crossing her arms again only to quickly start waving a flippant hand through the air. "Is he going to try to take my baby from me and raise it in the capital while Jareth and I rot on this island? Because I will tell you both right now to fuck off."

Lochlan stared at her for a moment. He wasn't um...expecting this.

"Sarah-"

"I'm not done yet," she cut him off, holding his gaze with a level of assertion he was equally surprised by. "I don't know what kind of trouble Jareth is in, but it's pretty clear there's a lot of it. My future here is uncertain enough already, and now I find out I've rolled up in the middle of some very serious political faerie turmoil? The King promised to crown me if I have a kid. Well, what the hell is going to happen to me if Jareth loses his crown?"

Lochlan's blank stare was broken by an arching of brow. He blinked, and then that incessant smile of his curled back into place.

"Ah, so your outrage is less in the interest of my deceit and more in that of self-preservation?" he asked, with a hint of amusement. Sarah's jaw clenched but Lochlan cared not. He looked away with a rather haughty air about him. "Hm, you'll do well here."

"Don't patronize me, Lochlan. I'm pissed," she snapped at him, and then pointed a nasty finger in his direction. "You can tell The King what I said. If he wants my kid to become Jareth's replacement, then fine. But I'm coming along with it. I am going to have a say and I am going to be its mother and raise it the way I want. If he has a problem with that, then he can kiss his entire scheme goodbye."

She was starting to fume a little and, thankfully for him, he must have finally picked up on it. He paused and the playful air about him faded. He angled back towards her, his eyes turning more serious (and a bit worried) as he regarded her.

"I didn't realize you would find this so offensive. I will certainly...relay the message," he said, then winced. "-though...a bit more politely perhaps."

"Good," Sarah said, tersely, and glanced away. "What did he even do to piss off his father so bad anyway?"

She looked back when he did not immediately respond. Their gazes crossed and he looked...uncomfortable again.

"He did not tell you?"

Sarah paused before responding. This felt like a trap.

"...No."

"Well...then it's not for me to say."

His voice had lulled with dispassion, and it was a queer change in tone that had her growing even more frustrated. She growled a little in the back of her mind.

"So you're not going to tell me either?" she asked. Lochlan shook his head.

"No."

"I thought I could trust you, Lochlan."

"You can," he replied, shrugging, and averted his eyes with a look of regret. "And I hope, this minor bit of omission aside, that you still do."

"Minor?" Sarah repeated, the word sounding positively outlandish. She scowled and pinched the bridge of her nose as she shook her head at the floor. "Jesus...I've been here for a few hours and already this place is filling up with secrets. Given my position in the middle of this clusterfuck, don't you think I deserve to be clued in?" she asked. She did not see, but Lochlan's look softened with sympathy.

"I do."

"Well?"

He exhaled roughly and took a few steps towards her. Sarah straightened and watched him.

"The things you're concerned about are not secrets, Sarah. They are, however, not something I am allowed to talk about. To anyone. Period. If you want answers, you'll need to get them directly from Jareth," he explained, in as calming a manner as possible. Sarah held his gaze, testing it for honesty. Unfortunately, she no longer had any idea who she could or should be relying on and only glanced away with a dissatisfied huff.

"Yeah, I don't see that happening any time soon," she said, grumpily, with a contemplative pout to boot. Lochlan couldn't help but crack a grin.

"Good thing you have plenty of time, then," he replied, and smiled wider in anticipation of her returning side eye. "Do you have any other questions? Perhaps ones that I can answer?"

He'd gone back to being pleasant. Friendly. Sarah kept her eyes narrowed.

"...No. At least not tonight," she said, with an air of defeat as she willed away the rest of her anger. Getting worked up about this would be pointless, she knew that. If Lochlan, or anyone else, was determined not to tell her things then there was very little chance she was going to change their mind. At least right away. She'd just have to find other means of answering her questions..."I don't appreciate being manipulated, Lochlan," she said, after a moment of thought.

"And neither did I enjoy manipulating you." She looked up at the compulsion of his tone. It was soft, earnest. Or at least, she thought it was. "But, I was honest with my intentions. I've told you, more than once, that it was my prerogative to win you over by any means necessary."

He gave her a shrewd (and entirely condescending) eye as he said that. As he reaffirmed her suspicion that he was not and did not have any intention of being nor saying sorry. So, it was her fault for not being quick-witted enough? Seriously? Fucking fae.

"Do you hate me now?" Lochlan asked. Sarah had completely forgotten about retorting. She'd given in to glower at the shadows as her fingers curled into her biceps. She did, however, glare over at the down right grating sound of such facetiousness.

She stared at him for a moment, her lip begging to snarl.

"...Let me sleep on it."

Whether or not those words held sarcasm was irrelevant to Lochlan, for the mere sight of her looking so riled and childish brought an honest grin to his face. He knew it was a bit tasteless, but he could no longer conceal his amusement. She had such a quick temper and, despite present qualms, a very discerning eye. He was not phased by her anger towards him. He was just too excited.

"Very well then," he said, doing little to stifle his smirk as he placed a hand to his heart and bowed. "Goodnight, Sarah."

He heard her huff in admonishment and the sound of the door handle clicking open.

"Yeah. G'night," she said, and promptly slipped around it before closing it in his face.

---

The sound of the door slamming shut behind her was loud, but presently Sarah was disappointed it hadn't been deafening. She was so annoyed. So thoroughly irritated that Lochlan could dare stand there and look so smug while revealing his trickery. Did he not care what happened to her or her hypothetical children? Why was she finding Jareth's arrogance to be so much more tolerable?

Oh. Right. Because Jareth had yet to betray her. Because she'd started out without an ounce of trust for him to betray. Whereas, stupidly it seemed, she'd given it to Lochlan all but immediately.

Well, at least he had owned up to it.

With a very rough sigh, she uncrossed her arms and slouched a little as she took a step into the room. Without the assistance of daylight, the atmosphere changed considerably. It was very dark, the pale pastel and earthly tones were now warmed and enriched by the light of many candelabras. The fire was already blazing. The trunk general Fostad had given her was erected in the same spot on the floor in front of her, and her backpack, containing her only real possessions, was casually tossed on the bed.

She took a few steps towards it and they echoed. Oh. Well that was off-putting. She placed a hand against the banister at the corner of the bed, admiring the smoothness of the varnish and the intricacy of the carvings laid into it, before reaching out and unzipping her pack.

Thankfully, she'd packed just one pair of proper pajamas -flannel shorts and an oversized t-shirt. None of that frilly lace shit she'd been forced to wear at the garrison. She glanced around looking for a clock; she spotted one and saw it was nearing ten-thirty. Not exactly late, but probably too late to go exploring, she thought.

With nothing better to do, and needing to wash away the day's crock of bullshit anyway, she gathered her things and headed towards the bathroom.

The corridor was short. Only about fifteen feet. At the end, on the right, was an archway leading into a...very gratuitous amount of tile.

Sarah just kind of stood on the threshold for a moment. Lochlan had warned her but...it was still hard to believe. The rest of the castle -hell, the rest of the city- was a crumbling pile of shit and yet, unless she'd passed out and was now dreaming, she swore she stood on the precipice of a five star luxury spa.

Almost everything was marble. The floor, and several ionic columns, were carved from a kind she'd never seen before, with running veins so thick and saturated with color it looked like wet paint. Tones of burnt umber, amber, and azure dazzled the eye from floor to ceiling. There was blue-tinted glass which framed what looked to be a very large walk in shower, and golden banisters that lined the walls and composed the trimming of the counters and sinks. Yes, sinks. There were no windows, but instead a mirror edged with frost which spanned the entire length of the far wall across from her.

In the center of the room, pressed against the left wall, and framed by several columns, was a tub. It was white, rimmed by several marble steps leading into it. And, as she walked further into the room, she could see a little chandelier hanging in the dome high above it.

She walked around it and spied conjoining rooms. One housed the toilet, and another was, what she labeled as, a relaxation cove. The little area featured a pale blue ottoman and foot rest, golden oak end tables, and some fancy, foreign looking plants. There were a couple mysterious doors and faceless cabinets holding rolled towels and other surprisingly modern toiletries and trinkets too, but she'd inspect all that later.

Sarah let her backpack drop to the floor as she gawked from floor to ceiling and back again. Well shit.

As tempting as that tub, in all its insane glory, was, what Sarah needed more was a scalding shower. She approached it warily, half-anticipating goblin trickery, and looked around inside for the proper mechanics. The inside was covered in blue tile of a darker hue, the metal knobs she'd been looking for were gold, like everything else, and were located just across from her.

She was so, so happy this dimension had modern plumbing.

Unsurprisingly, her shower was perfect. The water pressure was something her middle-class self had never known the pleasure of, and the heat bouncing off her skin provided a pseudo-massage she'd direly needed. She waited until the pads of her fingers became prunes before exiting, and even then she was reluctant. The knobs squeaked as she turned off the water, and she sighed as the heavy amount of steam she'd been breathing in helped clear both her sinuses and her mind.

Her eyes lowered as she wrung out her hair. It was quiet again. She'd never realized just how unsettling silence could be. At home, there was rarely a moment of silence. If Karen wasn't playing music, her father was watching tv. And if both were out then Toby was hooting and hollering at some video game or romping with friends. But still, the silence that surrounded her now felt heavy. Perturbed. She was starting to think maybe she hadn't thought this through after all. Maybe she had allowed Lochlan to take advantage of her. She wasn't a mother. She had no idea what it would be like to become one. How would she feel about this situation once that actually happened? It was easy to make such big promises when you had no idea what you were doing, when it was all based on what ifs in a potentially very distant future.

But now she was here. Now her father was healthy. Now she had a chance to really think about it. This was a dangerous arrangement. She talked big to Lochlan just now but...she knew, if push came to shove, she stood no chance against the faerie King of Erewhon.

At least she could agree with Jareth in one regard -giving his father what he wanted was never going to happen.

Because the scenery called for a certain amount of indulgence, Sarah donned a plush purple robe she found hanging in one of the cabinets. As she ran her hand along the too-soft-to-be-real collar, she thought about giving it a proper monogram as she set out her feminine wares on the sink counter.

She brushed her teeth, lotioned her face, did everything she would normally do before bed. But, now it was strange. Sterile. Like being in a hotel. The quagmire was so strong she actually took a moment to wonder: would she ever be able to regard this as her home?

She was falling into introspection again as she exited the spa for her bedroom. It felt cooler now that she'd showered, and looked a little brighter now that her eyes had adjusted.

The fire cracked and she silently paced throughout the room.

She inspected the shadows first. Then the nooks. Then the crannies. She kept expecting to see beady little eyes creeping on her, but no such luck. Where were all the goblins?

By now she was trailing along the far wall, the one with the epic fresco. She ran a finger along it as she traced the forms of artfully nude nymphs playing in the grass. They were being delightfully pounced on by critters: a rabbit, a fox, a...something. For a moment she thought she saw faces in the trees but convinced herself that was just stress getting to her.

She looked at the clock again and saw it was nearing midnight. Damn. She should probably get to bed. God knew what tomorrow would have in store for her.

She stopped pacing when she crossed the french door. It led to a balcony, a large one, which made for a perfect pedestal for the moon as it glowed brightly above a very clear night sky. She tilted her head against the glass as she stared up at it, as she watched the twinkling of stars fade in and out.

This wasn't so bad, she told herself. This didn't have to be bad.

Her brow twitched and she straightened at the sight of a darkened silhouette breaking the night sky. She narrowed her eyes and tried to track it, but it wasn't until the creature passed the moon that she was able to discern what it was.

A bird. It was a bird flying.

But...wait a minute.

Seeing an owl in the Underground was a strange sight indeed. More so because she thought she recognized it. Curiosity placed her hand on the handle and begged her to push it open, but she resisted. Instead she watched the creature turn, revealing the shape of its wings as it passed by the moon once more, and then left in the direction whence it came. She stood there silently for a moment, watching it leave and feeling peculiarly dispassionate. She wondered why she hesitated. Wondered why she was now suddenly dejected.

And she wondered, more than anything, why she gotten such a strong feeling that…it was him.

---

Sarah awoke the next day feeling rested in body if not mind, and begrudgingly pulled herself upright. The light of morning was garish. Blinding. And it gave her the realization that the rejuvenation of her previous awakenings probably had nothing at all to do with magic. She snarled and clawed a hand over her eyes.

It'd taken her a while to fall asleep, so she was feeling a little groggy. A part of her couldn't help but be on edge, conscious of her vulnerability in this strange and worrisome place. But, as it turned out, all was well for the moment.

She'd dragged herself out of bed, combed her fingers through her tangled, half-damp hair, and was just starting to wonder how the hell she was going to get some breakfast when a little knock came at the door.

Her eyes darted from left to right, and then she called out, "Come in?"

She was surprised, and relieved, that it was not Lochlan who entered her room but the procession of maids she'd met the previous day. Her relief was fleeting, however, and quickly turned to confusion as she watched all five of them enter her room with lowered heads.

Feeling suddenly ambushed, Sarah took the initiative to break the ice as quickly as possible.

"Um...hi?"

Goddamn. Again? She really needed to work on her greeting skills.

Sirene was the first to raise her head. She smiled pleasantly with her hands clasped out in front of her.

"Good morning, Mistress. I see you're already awake."

She sounded nice enough. Sarah's expression retracted to mild suspicion.

"Um...yeah. I just got up. Is...there a schedule or something? Sorry...no one told me anything."

Her eyes flickered over the other four, observing the way Greta, Arlyn, and June all peered around the room like it was something new to them. Talia, at the back of the group, offered little more than a disinterested side eye.

"Oh, no. Nothing like that," Sirene said, with a gentle wave. "Lord Leche simply asked us to check in on you. It is your first morning in the castle, after all."

Hm...that made sense. But she was still skeptical.

"Oh...well, thank you, but it's unnecessary, really," Sarah said, dismissively. Then she turned and inadvertently caught her reflection in a mirror. Fuck. Could fate have given her just five minutes to brush out her hair?

The maids, perfectly put together at seven-fifteen in the goddamn morning, all stared at her with very questioning looks.

"I'm sure you all have other things to do. I don't want to impose on you," Sarah explained. It was Greta who spoke up next.

"Oh it's fine. There's only so much to clean anyway," she said, looking so merry as she fluttered a playful hand in her direction. Sarah was about to smile when Talia turned and angled her head down at her.

"Yes. His Highness has not yet made any messes."

There was something...ulterior to the way Talia was looking at her, but Sarah could not for the life of her figure it out. In the end, she wrote it off and looked away.

"Oh," she said, awkwardly, and teetered on her heel. Arlyn stepped forward during the break in conversation, revealing a box of goodies she'd been holding.

"We also...wanted to give you these," she said, her head lowering in bashfulness as she held the box out. Sarah, who's arms had since crossed defensively, lowered them as her brow scrunched.

"Huh?"

Sirene smiled and gestured for Arlyn and June (who Sarah realized was also holding a box) to step towards her from the back.

"Well, after you left dinner last night, we all got to talking about you being from the Aboveground," she said, a comment that had Sarah's posture turning guarded once more. "Lord Leche mentioned you traveled the veil and...well, we thought that meant you probably weren't able to bring many belongings along with you." She paused and rummaged through the box Arlyn held, and then surprised Sarah by pulling out a hair brush. "Forgive us for being presumptuous, but we thought to give you some things of ours. It wouldn't do to have our mistress go unaccommodated."

Sarah, in a moment of genuine surprise, stood dumbly for one second too long before responding. She looked down the line from Sirene to Talia. Aside from Talia's averted eyes, they all looked...happy. Eager. She wasn't expecting that.

"Oh. Oh wow. Really?" she asked, forcing herself to show a proper level of appreciation as she smiled and finally took a step towards them.

Sirene's smile twitched anew and she gestured towards the other girls.

"Why don't you set those down on the table there," she said, and Arlyn and June obeyed. "Come, Mistress, let us show you what we've brought."

She beaconed Sarah like one would a puppy and it made her realize just how apprehensive she was behaving. Shooing away those feelings, she relaxed her posture and joined them all at the dining table.

"We weren't sure what you would need, so we each donated a bit of everything," Greta said, reaching into the boxes without reservation and pulling out bottles of this or that. Sarah's eyes inspected eagerly. "Although...most of the products are half empty. I hope that's okay?" She turned and locked eyes with Sarah then. Sarah blinked and tried not to let her brow knit together.

"What? No. No I don't mind. I actually...really appreciate you doing this for me," she said, and gave in to look through the contents herself. There were things like perfume, shampoos, lotions, jewelry, combs, a curling rod, a puzzle book, some pens even, and a whole bunch of other random bits meant to occupy her time. "I never even thought about most of this," she added, feeling a little blindsided by their generosity. She looked up and spanned her eyes to each of them. "These are all your personal belongings? Are you sure you want to give this to me? You don't have to, really," she implored, hoping this wasn't something they had been ordered to do. Her humility seemed to please them, the spirit of the room perking up with their combined energies. Or maybe it was just Greta.

"Oh but we must!" Greta exclaimed. Sarah turned her attention towards her. "Shipments only come in every few weeks. If we don't give you something, you'll be living like a goblin until the next ferry," she explained. This time Sarah's brow did furrow. Oh right. The ferry. Wow, she really hadn't thought of any of that.

"Yes. Madam Miri also wanted us to let you know to make a list of things you'll need or want to give to Captain Pomona," Sirene added. Sarah looked over. "The boat will leave later today. Not much notice, I know, but such as it is." Sirene shrugged in apology and looked down to the box. "But if there's anything you need right away that isn't here, please tell us. We'll do our best to fulfill your request."

"Do you have something to wear?"

Sarah looked up and across the table at June. She was staring at her a little wide eyed, shy, and seeming to immediately regret the sound of her own voice.

"Um, yeah. General Fostad gave me some dresses so...I'll be good for a few days at least," she said. June darted her eyes away.

"Oh I see. That's good. He's very kind-"

"We were trying to guess your measurements last night and determined June is the closest one to your size," Greta interrupted. "She's very graciously offered to donate some of her clothes to you should you desire them." She ended the sentence with a bow of the head. Sarah, very unused to such treatment, was starting to feel a little put off. Maybe Lochlan was right. Maybe she'd judged them too quickly...

"Oh. I see. Thank you, June," Sarah said, with a head dip of her own. June's returning smile was meek.

"You're welcome, Mistress."

Sarah, noticing a very quiet Talia standing off to the side of the table, gave her the benefit of the doubt as well and hoped her averted eyes were a product of pride rather than distaste. She went out on a limb and offered an olive branch.

"Thank you, too, Talia, for anything you've contributed. Going out of your way like this means a lot."

There was a certain tension in Talia's posture, a confirmation that she was a little miffed about parting with her treasures, but had done so all the same. She looked over and bowed her head.

"It's only our duty, but you're welcome."

Wow. Friends.

As little headway as that was, at least it was something. Sarah almost huffed in amusement before looking away.

"So, what kind of stuff can I put on this list?" she asked. Sirene set out a small decorated box, with contents unknown, on the table.

"Anything really. We are pampered here in that regard. Anything you can think of that can be transported by the ferry shall be brought to you."

"Even things from the Aboveground?" Sarah asked. She peered up when what followed was silence.

Sirene and the other women all looked around from one another before she responded.

"I...don't see why not? There are merchants who operate between the worlds, so I'm sure someone can procure whatever might be on your mind," she said, with a smile.

"Hm. That's pretty nice…"

Another knock at the door had all six women looking back reflexively.

"Come in?"

Sarah watched with a tensed brow as the door opened to reveal a very chipper looking Lochlan. He peered over, caught each of their gazes, and smiled. Remembering she was still annoyed with him, Sarah's lips pursed.

He closed the door behind him and made his approach.

"Ah. So you're all here. Good," he said, standing by Sarah's side, and spared special smiles for each of the maids who did all but melt in response. Sarah averted her eyes. Why the hell was he standing so close to her? "Good morning, Miss Williams. Did you sleep well?"

She got the feeling there was nuance to that question, but for the sake of the women surrounding her she chose to let it go. …mostly

"A determination has yet to be made," she said, cryptically, with a suddenly coarse tone that caught the attention of the maids. Sarah looked away from him and focused on the wares in front of her. "What are you doing here? I assumed you sent them in your place."

The maids stood silently as they pondered the remarkable audacity with which she was speaking to their beloved Lord Leche, and pondered even more the way his smile only grew more amused in reaction to it.

"So you are still upset with me," he said, teasingly. Sarah tried not to scowl. "What must I do to win back your favor?"

Sarah, staring so very pointedly at a jewel encrusted hair pin, bit her cheek before responding.

"You could apologize, firstly." She looked up at him with challenge in her eyes. He held her gaze for a moment, seeming to weigh the pros and cons of getting into all that with half the castle's staff as witness, and then huffed in defeat. He lowered his head and raised his hands submissively.

"Very well. I'm sorry."

There was a high-handedness to those words that was in no way lost on her. Like hell he was sorry. She'd hash this out with him again later…

"Thanks," she replied, curtly, and rolled her eyes away. Greta pouted as she watched the exchange. Whatever could Lord Leche have possibly done to slight her?!

"Is there something we can do for you, Lord Leche?" she asked, hoping the bubble in her voice would perk up the spirit of the room. "As you can see, we're spending some quality time with our mistress. Just like you asked."

Lochlan's eyes lowered from Greta to the table.

"Indeed. Fret not, I shan't take up too much of your time. I simply wanted to check on Miss Williams before starting rounds."

Greta smiled widely in response, like he was being so gosh darn charitable. Sarah's brow furrowed in quiet confusion. Rounds?

"Thanks, but I don't need a babysitter," she said, turning her now bored look back up at Lochlan. Lochlan shrugged.

"That's unfortunate, because that is in fact my job," he said. Sarah couldn't tell if he was being facetious and chocked it up to her lingering annoyance towards him. She looked away, so he set his sights on the maids. "Have you told her about the supply order yet?"

Sirene nodded.

"Yes. We were just discussing it, actually," she said.

"Good," he replied, and then looked down to Sarah again. "I've asked the captain to dock for an extra day, that way you have time to appropriately compile your requests. The ship will be departing at dawn tomorrow, so please pass along your contribution to either myself or Madam Miri before then."

Sarah blinked and nodded.

"Got it."

Lochlan's smile twitched, a little impressed by her stubbornness.

"Well, I see you're in good hands. Unless there's anything you need of me, I'll be on my way," he said, and bowed to them all. Sarah caught the way June nibbled a grin from the corner of her eye. "Good day ladies."

He left quite promptly after that and, honestly, Sarah was a little surprised. She'd expected a higher degree of surveillance. Maybe even a routine she was expected to follow or a training period where she learned what exactly a Mistress was supposed to even do.

Unable to decide if looking this particular gift horse in the mouth was a bad thing, she brought her attention back to the ladies.

"So um...have you all eaten breakfast yet? Is there a specific time for that or…?"

She watched them all blink in gross confusion.

"Oh. You want breakfast?" Greta asked, as if the word were foreign. Sarah's eyes began to dart.

"Kind of…"

"Heh. Forgive her, Mistress. Greta can be a bit crass," Sirene said.

"Hey-"

"We actually do not gather for meals outside of supper. We are given trays in our rooms and break for lunch wherever we happen to be," she explained, completely disregarding the way Greta was pouting at her. Sarah frowned a little. Oh.

"Okay...how do I get food then?" she asked.

"If you are here, you simply need pull that cord," Sirene said, and pointed over at a long rope hanging in close proximity to the door. Sarah's eyes followed and then narrowed. She hadn't realized that was functional. Thought it was some weird decoration or something. "A goblin will come to take your request to the kitchens. If you are elsewhere in the castle, summon a guard and relay the order to them."

Sarah pursed her lips as she pondered and turned back to the group.

"Hm...okay. Are there any other rules or customs here that I should know about?" she asked. The five women all exchanged glances once again, and then Talia shrugged.

"Not really," she said, and looked away again. Sarah caught the ambivalent motion of Arlyn's hand raising and lowering in response.

"Well, there is the one about the dungeons," she said, and looked over to lock eyes with Sarah. "We are not meant to enter there."

"Yes, but it's kept locked anyway," Talia said, dismissively. "Besides, who would ever intentionally venture into that place? I can only imagine what's kept down there." She crossed her arms and looked at Sarah. "Arlyn is right, but aside from that, this place doesn't really have rules or operate by court custom. It doesn't operate by any custom really."

Sarah, feeling a smidge more interested in the mysteriously off-limits dungeon than she knew was good for her, forced her curiosity to get in line behind all her other suspicions, and she roamed her gaze away.

"Interesting…" she said and, on that note, thoughts of deep, dark and ominous successfully brought her round to the next topic on her list of inquiries. "So um...do any of you know where His Highness is?" She winced a little as she said that. Like she was embarrassed for it. Her eyes peered from one woman to the next, but their expressions were completely frank.

"No," was the general consensus.

"Do you know what he's usually up to around now?" she asked instead. Damn. Why did this feel so awkward? This was a normal thing to ask, wasn't it? A normal thing to want? Maybe that was it. Maybe she was just surprised she was the one, for the third time now, going out of her way to pursue him.

Sarah found the way all five maids either lowered their heads or averted their eyes uncomfortably to be very…curious.

"No," Arlyn replied, her posture turning a little tense. "We um...we try to avoid him, actually…"

And now Sarah was scowling.

"Why?"

The air that carried that word was permeated with awkwardness. None of them responded right away until, finally, Sirene took the lead.

"It's simply...best to stay out of his way," she said, with a very forced and very unconvincing smile.

"-especially when he's...in a temper," Greta tacked on, pointing a finger in the air and then curling it back down as the instinctive fervor drained from her voice. She too looked tense. Deflated. That did not make any sense at all to Sarah.

"What happens when he's in a temper?" she asked. There was alarm steadily building in her, that and bewilderment. A feeling which peaked when Talia huffed with laughter and shot a very wry grin in Sarah's direction.

"He makes messes."

Sarah was quiet. It seemed, all too suddenly, that the aura about the table had shifted dramatically. They looked uncomfortable, but Sarah couldn't figure out the source of it. Was this like what happened with Lochlan last night? Was she simply nearing a topic they were not allowed to talk about? Or were they afraid? Afraid of Jareth.

She realized very quickly that her presumptions about this place and these women's roles in it could have been devastatingly wrong. She'd assumed they were sleeping with him, or at least in all likelihood were. They were the only women on the island and all were attractive. But...as she continued to analyze their mannerisms in that split second, she acknowledged that they could very well be sleeping with him. But that didn't mean it was consensual.

She wanted to ask, but it was impossible. How the hell should she phrase this? Lochlan had warned her he may abuse her...she wanted to know if there was actual grounds for that. She wanted to know if he was already abusing them.

June, who had been quiet as a mouse for most of the conversation, frowned with worry and tilted her head. "Are you alright, Mistress?"

Sarah's gaze shot up from the table and was stupidly unguarded. Her mouth hung open in preparation to speak, but she didn't. She just stared at June in disconcertion.

Talia cracked a grin and turned her slanted eyes away.

"I know that look. She's wondering if any of us are sleeping with him."

Thankfully, Sarah was not the only one who's reaction to Talia's brazenness was total shock. Greta actually gasped and covered her mouth as all of them turned very sharply, with very impassioned eyes, back towards her. Talia, reveling in the attention, actually stood a little straighter because of it.

Sarah, upset that Talia could misconstrue and render her thoughts to little more than pettiness, scowled intently and spoke up.

"Actually, that's not something I would ask. It's none of my business," she said, forcing herself to sound stoic out of spite if nothing else. Talia, amused, angled a sharp brow in response.

"But you'd like to know all the same, right?"

Sarah, not having any idea how to properly respond to such obvious provocation, stood in silence as her frustration simmered. Luckily, that tension lasted for only a few seconds before Arlyn, out of all of them, provided an answer.

"Well...I haven't," she said, her shoulders hunched and her head lowered as a blush spread across her pale face. Sarah severed the tethers between her and Talia's gazes to look over at her. She was about to say something when Greta suddenly slapped poor, flustered Arlyn clear across the back.

"No way! Really? I thought I was the only one!" she said, carelessly, with a certain degree of exclamation that did not fit the conversation. Sarah's brow started to draw together again.

Next it was June who stepped forward, with the same meek manner as Arlyn, and peered around to Greta as she said, "Me neither."

Greta, in such spirited disbelief, placed her hands on her hips and huffed.

"Well how about that. What about you, Talia?" she asked, leaning to the side to look around Arlyn as she spoke. Talia, looking a little irritated, tightened her crossed arms and raised her nose.

"A Lady does not kiss and tell," she said, and snarled when Greta's immediate response was an obnoxious pfff.

"Spoil sport," she said, and turned to the other side to face Sirene. "Care to weigh in, Sirene?"

The way Sarah looked over so swiftly betrayed her curiosity. But really, she was confused, having been prepared to hear all about His Highness's exploits. But this...instead of relief, Sarah could feel a new string of suspicion building. Why did the possibility of him not sleeping with them seem somehow...worse?

Sirene, regarding the look in Sarah's eye very astutely, shifted her attention to Greta, the words she spoke coming out very calmly...and shrewdly.

"Talia is right. This is not something a proper lady should be airing about so liberally. Madam would be very displeased should she hear of this."

Sarah picked up on the tension lining Sirene's words and looked over the other women. Arlyn and June were frowning, lowering their heads in shame. Greta, while impatient and not quite taking the scolding as seriously, sighed and lowered her head as well.

"Of course. Forgive us," Greta said, a line she'd no doubt recited many, many times. Sarah pursed her lips. She'd been given an ample amount of food for thought just now. Currently she wasn't sure how she even felt about it. Inescapable jealously aside, her primary concern had been for their wellbeing. But...it didn't seem like any of them were being victimized. Certainly not from the way Greta had made light of it just now.

"Mistress, I apologize as well for our rudeness. Talia should know better." Sirene spoke pleasantly, though it came with a hint of beratement that made Talia flinch in response. Clearly Sirene was their alpha and, much to the validation of Sarah's spite, it seemed even bitter Talia knew when to come to heel.

Sarah smoothed her features into an equally pleasant smile.

"It's alright. No harm done."

"You are most kind."

"So um…with that out of the way…" Sarah started, rolling her eyes away as she very awkwardly changed topics. "What's the game plan then? Should I go shower? Is there anything I'm supposed to do?"

"There...is no plan, really. We were bade to serve you, so here we are."

"But you still have other work to do, right?"

"Yes...but we will find the time for that later."

"That's unnecessary," Sarah said, dismissively. "Like I told Lord Leche, I don't need a babysitter. I'm fine with being on my own if you need to get back to your posts. I don't want to be a burden on you."

"Aw, Mistress. You're no burden to us," Greta said.

"She's trying to get us to leave, Greta. Geesh. Can't you tell?" Talia brusquely interrupted. Sarah tried not to scowl.

"Um. I wasn't actually. I was just trying to be considerate."

"And we appreciate it, Mistress," Sirene replied. By now her glare on Talia was near murderous and, in the effort not to offend their new master any further, pushed them all out before Sarah could say otherwise. "Come ladies. Let Mistress settle in. She will call for us if she needs anything. Yes?" she asked. Sarah nodded.

"Yeah. Sure."

"May we see you at dinner then," she replied, and they all bowed. They turned and left after that, just as promptly as they'd arrived, and Sarah did nothing but blink at the spot they once occupied. Goodness...this was going to be just like high school, wasn't it?

---

Despite her earlier quandary, Sarah found herself relieved to be left alone once more. While she was genuinely touched they had gone out of their way to make her feel welcomed, it was just too soon to trust them. They seemed nice. A little cliquey, but nice. Still. If she'd learned anything from high school it was just how precarious friendships like that could be. Especially when these potential friends were backed by magic. She twisted the ring on her finger as she thought.

Not knowing what else to do, Sarah thought to start her day by exploring the castle. She imagined it would take at least a week, so hopefully she wouldn't die of boredom too soon. It'd only been a few days, but already she was feeling withdrawals from missing her weekly sitcoms.

Thanks to Sirene, she was able to order in. She pulled on the rope, anticipating a loud ringing or boom of some sort, but all was quiet. She stared at it for a minute, then pulled it again. Was...it broken? She reached out to pull it a third time when a knock sent her jolting to her tiptoes.

T'was a goblin, as foretold. The creature stood to her knee and removed it's cap before bowing to her. "How may I serve you, milady," it asked.

"Um, I'd like something for breakfast please —if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course. Right away, milady." The creature bowed once more and then left, and Sarah was oddly suspicious of how tame and well mannered it'd been.

She dressed, combed out her hair, dabbled in the box of trinkets left for her and, even as she spritzed and dusted and painted and crimped, hoped that no such things had been nefariously tampered with. How unfortunate would that be? she thought as she applied her mascara while squinting into the mirror.

Maybe the blush she'd been given would turn her skin purple. Maybe the perfume would make her smell like the bog. Was she being too harsh on them by harboring such suspicions? Apparently not, as, currently, she wasn't exactly taking any precautions against such a fate.

Bring it on, she vacantly thought. It wasn't like her life hadn't taken a ridiculous enough turn already.

The goblin returned with her meal and placed it on the dining table for her, then removed the lid and bowed as it asked if there was anything else she needed. "No," she promptly responded, as the sight and heavenly waft of a raspberry pecan tart hit her right in the gut. She added on a thank you, minding her manners of course, and bade the creature adieu.

After her meal the previous night, Sarah had great expectations for the honeyed slice of decadence placed before her now. For whatever reason, the quality of the food surprised her. Given her surroundings, she'd expected a more...simplified menu. But, as she sat there in a bronze wired chair in a velveteen dress surrounded by hand painted frescos eating a pastry so sweet and so mouthwatering it actually had her toes curling in her soft as down slippers, she really felt quite lavish. And here she'd told Jareth's father she didn't fancy herself a princess.

It was nearing 10 AM when she finally left her room, and she almost ducked back inside as she noticed a guard standing just beside her door.

Her eyes twitched as she spied on it. It hadn't reacted. Hadn't moved. Didn't even look to be breathing. With her posture hunched over as if that actually made her less conspicuous, she peered around the hallway. Of course, there wouldn't be such things as security cameras here, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

After a few seconds of lingering scrutiny, she finally straightened and confronted the guard. Lochlan had told her they would be stationed in her wing now, so she figured she ought to introduce herself.

It wore the same kind of armor as the first guard she'd seen: plated, though rough and beige like stone rather than metal. That seemed odd. And it looked quite heavy too.

"Um...good morning?" she said, skeptically. She'd been standing there staring it up and down for a few seconds now and still there was no reaction from it. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to spy between the slits in its visor.

The guard said nothing. Sarah took a step closer.

"Um, hello? Can you hear me?"

She stood up on her toes and waved a hand in front of its face, but still nothing. Feeling like an idiot, Sarah wondered if it was a prop after all.

"What, are you asleep in there?" she asked, impatiently, and reached out to flip up his visor —it was an action she immediately regretted.

Sarah gasped, frightfully, and lurched away from it.

Gravity closed the visor all on its own, and Sarah stood there, dumbstruck, with a pounding heart, as she gaped at it.

"Oh. Um...okay then," she said, with averted eyes, and very quickly ran away

---

Sarah shook her head as she tried to clear her mind of that horrendous visage, but it was a failing effort. As promised, there were guards placed at the ends of each hall, and every time she passed one a violent chill would shoot straight down her spine. Just horrible, she kept thinking. *shudder*

Unfortunately, she was so distracted she forgot to track where she was going and ended up lost almost immediately. She had no idea where she was within the castle, what floor she was on or what direction she faced. There were no windows, no definitive markers at all.

Her footsteps echoed as the ceilings became taller and, as she kept on pushing forward, she eventually realized that even the petrified guards had left her.

She walked for a long while, aimlessly and without caution. Her adventure was turning out to be exceedingly dull, so whatever bit of self-awareness she'd started out with was now fading. Many of the rooms were empty. Those that did have furniture were all covered in sheets and, as her enthusiasm became weaker and weaker, she wondered if there was anything worth seeing at all.

The Underground was such a marvelous place. Her memories of the city below were lively, cantankerous, and astounding. So where was all the magic? Where were the goblins? Where was anything for that matter?

Finally, after the sound of the hundredth door closing shut, she paused to let herself frown. This was boring. If nothing else, she expected herself to be occupied. There may not be many, but there were other people living here, yet she had not crossed paths with a single one. Where the hell were they? Where the hell was she? Where the hell was Jareth or Lochlan or those creepy ass guards who were supposed to be looking out for her? This lack of heading was thoroughly...deflating.

She sighed heavily as she moved on, walking with a lowered head as she haphazardly mused about the pros falling off a cliff.

Maybe I should find a way outside...she thought to herself. Explore the city? Find my friends? Gosh, it's been a while…

Memories of her friends had her feeling guilty as she counted back the number of weeks, months actually, it'd been since she'd last seen them.

She'd just been so busy. Between school and work and the hospital...there was just too much going on after her father's diagnosis…

She'd go looking for them soon, she told herself. As soon as she found the right door anyway…

Sarah's head lifted as she realized she'd entered a new part of the castle. It was better decorated here, the lighting brighter, and the furniture kept fresh and unveiled. This must be a wing regularly inhabited, she determined, and stoked life back into a tiny spark of intrigue.

This round, she took her time in choosing a door, trying to make a pathetic little game out of it. None of them particularly stood out to her, until she found one that was already opened.

The level of excitement she felt at the sight of a half-open door was so asinine she actually had to stop and laugh at herself.

But a door that's open means someone has opened it! she argued to herself. Yeah, or they just forgot to close it when they left… Dear lord, save her; she was already talking to herself.

She pressed open the door with the tips of her fingers, allowing the steady creak of its hinges to provide a signal for her arrival, and peered around it curiously.

There was no one there, but that no longer mattered. She lowered her hand from the door and stepped across the threshold, her eyes glued to the sight before her.

The inside of the room was sparse, featuring nothing but a chandelier overhead, and a small, round table in the center. It was what was on top of the table that caught her attention.

Cards. It was a house of cards. A house of cards built so high and composed of such abstracted forms that there was no way in hell it was physically possible. It looked like a sculpture. Like the skeletal remains of a Rorschach once come to life. She took careful steps around it as she stared, as she gawked really, at the defiance of physics flaunted before her. It climbed so high it nearly touched the chandelier, and spanned outward in geometric flourishes that were so dazzling they were almost crystalline. She felt a tickle in her fingers to reach out and touch it, but she didn't dare, her urge to destroy almost as strong as her urge to admire.

She ceased her pacing and stood at the edge of the table, her head tilted back as she continued to stare.

"Find something interesting?"

A voice beside her ear had her jumping clear out of her skin and sent her lurching forward. Luckily she caught herself before clutching the table, but her shrill eep! carried enough reverberance to send a tremor through the structure all on its own. The cards quaked, then settled.

Sarah placed a hand to her heart and huffed as she glared over at Jareth.

"What the hell, man?" she asked, impulsively, her chest huffing and puffing as she regained her composure. Jareth grinned, his eyes slanted from his peripheral, as he quietly laughed to himself before straightening.

He took a step away from her, moved behind her, and the familiar scent that followed after him made her aware of just how close he'd been. She could feel the discomforting brush of his cape against her back as he moved, and she stood a little straighter.

He walked away from her to circle around the table. Sarah trained her eyes on him warily.

"Were you trying to kill me just now?" she asked. She sounded defensive but really she was just fighting for bearings. For whatever queer reason, her lips were dry and she had a very inconvenient palpitation in her heart.

Jareth stopped, quirked a brow, and shrugged.

"Not particularly."

Sarah didn't respond. At least not right away. Instead her gaze swept over him, searching for clues to his temper. She didn't want to admit it, but the way the maids had spoken of him earlier had her feeling suddenly vulnerable. It was a shame, then, that what she observed had nothing at all to do with self-preservation.

He was dressed very conservatively: sporting a dark, plated coat and heavy layered cape. It reminded her of when they'd first met, of that glittering, much too flattering regalia that she was surprised to have committed to memory with such vivid clarity.

He wore thick leather gloves, which she spied on as he lightly trailed a hand along the rim of the table while he walked. That hand led to an arm, which connected to a spauldered shoulder, which directed her eye to the collar of his jacket and the way it hugged the column of his throat—a detail she could not help but regard, poignantly, as his head tilted back to stare up, with complete nonchalance, at the display.

Sarah rolled her lower lip over her teeth as she glanced away. Dammit. He'd caught her off guard.

"Well...please don't sneak up on me like that," she said, sternly. One of Jareth's eyebrows arched in derision and he glanced over at her. She was lucky she kept her eyes on the cards. "I almost knocked this thing over," she added, and gestured at the delicate composition with a very indelicate scowl. Jareth felt the corners of his mouth twitching.

"And?"

"And...that'd be a shame?"

She crossed her arms. He huffed. She'd gone through a dramatic change in the split second since he'd made himself known. Her eyes had been so wide. Now they were cutting little things.

"Would it?" he asked, vacantly.

"Yeah...I mean, I'm sure it took a while to make. Whoever built it would probably be upset if some idiot tripped and knocked it all down."

She kept her eyes to the side and waved a hand around as she spoke. Her manner was flustered, which explained the slight color in her cheeks. He smiled as he regarded her. My, what a petulant thing she still was.

"Some idiot?" he repeated, with amusement. "Being awfully presumptuous, aren't you?" He stopped pacing to stand directly across from her and looked down at the table. "Upset is a bit excessive; I'd just start over again."

Sarah looked over reflexively.

"What? You mean you made this?" she asked, with a tone that he was apparently offended by. He huffed through his nose again and looked away.

"As opposed to whomever else you've seen loitering these halls?" he retorted, sarcastically, like he somehow knew she'd been lost and alone for the last three hours. Her brow tightened as she watched him through the negative space between the cards.

"Sorry. I just meant...it's really impressive, is all," she muttered, her eyes darting uncomfortably. Now that she had recovered from her startle, she was starting to wonder what he was doing here in the first place. If maybe she'd unwittingly wandered into the lion's den-

"...Not really."

She peered up and spied on him through the cards again, stealing glimpses of fragmented features: a crease at the corner of his eye, the curve of a partial upper lip, a shadow cast by the hair that fell over one shoulder. His tone had softened a notch. Sounded distracted, which matched the look she saw in a displaced, perfectly framed eye. He was staring down, fingering through a few spare cards that littered the table. Her brow knitted even more as she observed him, as she wondered what in the hell those women were talking about.

"So...how long did it take?" she asked. Jareth shrugged.

"A few days. I don't keep track."

"A few days?" Sarah repeated, her brow rising. "You...have a lot of patience." She saw the corner of his mouth twitch under the apex of an ace and a jack.

"Not really. Just a lot of free time."

She watched silently as the low tenor of his voice calmed her. Being so suddenly near him had put her on edge on an instinctual level, and it was something that she was sure put her at a disadvantage. This was confirmed by the way she jumped when he casually reached out, flicked a card, and sent the entire thing tumbling down between them.

Cards fell like a tidal wave, fanning out and flying off the table and onto the floor. Sarah took a step back, aghast, and stared across the table at Jareth with a defensive arm raised. He looked amused, pleased even, and stared out at the heap of cards as they mounted in the space between them.

"Whoa. Why did you do that?" she asked. There was trace panic in her voice, amplified by surprise. Jareth peered over at her innocently.

"Do what?" he asked. Sarah's brow knitted.

"You ruined it."

"Did I?"

Sarah drew back guardedly. She got the feeling he was toying with her, but his ambiguous tone made him impossible to dissect. She merely watched as he glanced away and started gathering cards.

"...You just said that took you days to make. Why the heck did you break it?" she asked. Her eyes lowered to his hands, curious of the way he was making a neat little pile for himself.

"Its purpose is in its process," Jareth said, and pulled forth two cards from his deck to stand them in an arch. "It is simply...a means to pass the time. Once it is finished, as pretty as it might be, it becomes entirely useless."

Several more arches joined the first, and next he gave them roofs.

"...I...disagree." Sarah said, slowly, as she herself became distracted by the quiet repetition of his movements. "The process might end but the product can still be admired. Its purpose becomes to validate the time and effort spent to create it. It's function is to stimulate the eye of the beholder."

Jareth paused and looked up from under his bangs.

"You speak as if it were a work of art."

"Wasn't it?"

He grinned as his eyes lowered, concealing the laughter that lingered there.

"To some, it would seem."

Another silence followed that reply. Sarah wasn't quite sure how to navigate it.

"...What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" He paused again and made an appeasing gesture with his hands. "I'm starting again."

Sarah, ever the skeptic, simply refused the urge to let down her guard. He seemed docile, but the feeling of his fist in the back of her hair and his hands holding her jaw shut were still fresh in her mind. The memory of that razor sharp intensity she'd seen in his eyes haunted her. Perhaps she was getting such dangerous vibes now precisely because he was docile. Or...maybe...she was just feeling nervous again.

Denying the thought as soon as it emerged, Sarah forced herself to focus on something else and reached down to pull back some cards.

She joined him silently, the only sound shared being the occasional scrape of cardstock against the smooth, wooden tabletop. She tried her best to build her own, but was failing miserably. She was more focused on him and the way he was not focused on her at all. She thought it a little childish, actually, the way he looked so enamored with his toy. Then, finally, after what felt like an achingly, frustratingly long while, she broke through the disquiet.

"So...this is a hobby then?" she asked. Awkwardness reverberated back to her and she internally cringed at how bad she was at initiating small talk. "Is this how you spend your days?"

"Some of them.''

Sarah's brow twitched at such a lackadaisical response, but her lowered eyes were primarily trained on the task at hand. So far she had three little triangles —excluding the ten that had fallen. Dammit. This was harder than it looked.

"Seems a little...mind numbing," she mumbled.

"It is."

There was something catching lining his tone. It was like she could hear him smiling. She looked up at him, but whatever curiosity she brought with her failed in comparison to the near outrage that flared in reaction to what greeted her.

His quaint little castle was already up to his freaking nose!

"Hey how- how did you build that so quickly?" she asked, then narrowed her eyes. "You're using magic, aren't you?"

Jareth, without sparing her a second glance, carried on unhindered.

"Am I?"

Sarah pursed her lips.

"Those structures before weren't physically possible," she said, watching as he casually shrugged.

"Well, you are the expert on such things." He waited a beat for her retort, but when none came he finally stopped what he was doing and glanced over at her. She was looking very stoic, doing her best to hold back a glare. Apparently, his condescending tone had been less than appreciated. Jareth's grin creeped. "Are you frustrated?" he asked, shooting a mocking eye down at her pathetic trio of cards and back up again. She did not respond. "Would you like some help?"

The obstinance conveyed by her silence alone was enough to make him laugh, though he did well to remain tactful. Petulant and prideful, eh? He was starting to remember why he'd had so much fun with her back then.

Testing her bravado, Jareth placed his remaining cards down on the table and slowly, leisurely, approached her.

Sarah stood rigid as the sound of his footsteps brought him closer to her, and she kept her eyes strictly on his. He was up to something. She could sense it. She just wasn't sure if backing away or standing her ground would be the better choice.

A shiver ran up her spine when he placed a hand beside hers flat on the table, and then angled the rest of his body to stand closely behind hers. She could feel the sleeve of his coat brush against her arm, feel the cold metal of his armor lightly press against her spine, and the tension that poised in the millimeter of space between his index finger and her pinky she thought was really quite unnecessary. He leaned down, just enough to bring his face level with hers, and her jaw clenched as the warmth of his breath sent goosebumps down the length of her neck.

He smelled like wine and the woods: fresh, crisp, decadent.

She wasn't mentally prepared when he reached around her with the other arm and then boldly clasped both her hands in front of her.

"Hey. What are you-"

"Relax," he purred, or at least that's how the sound registered so low and so close to her ear. She licked her lips and stared down at their hands, remarking, very inappropriately, just how much larger his were than hers. She wasn't sure what to do, but her hands had fallen limp in his grasp so she let them be. He placed them flat against the table, then laid his directly over them.

A tiny flare of alarm accompanied the tingle that vibrated through her fingers, a sensation of static that seemed to be drawing their hands together, and she knew that feeling was magic.

When Jareth lifted his hands, hers came with them. When his fingers flexed, so did hers, and she immediately realized he was puppeting them.

She did not protest. She did not say anything at all. She was too on edge. Too invested in whatever happened next.

With their hands moving as one, he used hers to pluck a pair of cards and carefully steepled them atop the others. Wordlessly, he repeated the action, over and over, and all the while she was more focused on the frequent pressure of his fingertips pressing against hers, and the feeling of both the coolness of his gloves and the warmth of his skin that radiated behind them as they teasingly hovered over the back of her hands.

"See? Easy," he said, his voice deceptively smooth. Sarah gulped. Surely she was the only one feeling this tension...right? Surely she was just being an idiot. Still, it was tantalizing. His proximity alone was tantalizing. She never in all her years away actually envisioned being so close to him like this, having his lips a mere hair's breadth from her cheek, having his eyes, with those long fanning lashes, idling so dangerously close to her peripheral...

"You're definitely using magic," she said, a little unevenly, as she berated her, apparently, extremely sexually frustrated self. She could feel her pulse quickening with a rise of anxiety and prayed to God he did not sense it as well.

"On you maybe. Not the cards."

He lifted their hands higher as tiers were added, but her steadily growing card tower was now the last thing on her mind. She was starting to feel flushed. Her dress was made of velvet, was heavy, was the thing she blamed her rising bodily temperature on. It didn't help that he was practically engulfing her. He was wide in the shoulders, his cape draping over them both as his arms lined the contour of her own.

"So um...did you sleep well?" Sarah asked, which was perhaps the stupid thing she'd said yet. Fucking hell. She really needed to learn better ice breakers. Thankfully, Jareth did not perceive her question to be as embarrassing as she did. His voice vibrated against her ear as he said,

"No."

"Oh...Sorry." and now she was back to feeling awkward. Her eyes darted around but refused to spy on him. He seemed content. Focused. She ignored the urge to turn her head and smell him.

"It's par for the course," Jareth said, which effectively pulled her away from the clutches of her treacherous libido. She blinked repeatedly and scowled. Huh? What the heck does that mean? she wondered.

"This place...is a little strange," she carried on, changing directions. "I was expecting more goblins."

"They mostly stay in the lower levels," Jareth replied.

"Why?"

"Too many stairs."

She took that as a joke and pursed her lips in a smirk. For as tense as she was feeling, there was something oddly easy about the moment, about the buffer their mindless activity provided. She didn't feel the compulsion to run like she thought she would. At least...not because he was the danger. And all the while she was only becoming more and more aware of the way his chest pressed flush against her back.

"Can um... can I...ask you a question, Jareth?" Her request was tentative and it made him grin. Though why he found such a show of bashfulness genuinely cute, he wasn't sure.

The corner of his mouth curled on one side as he replied, "Only one?"

Sarah's eyes lowered to the table, pausing as she contemplated. He was teasing her, but she wasn't feeling quite so playful.

"Why...did you give Hoggle your name?"

There was a pause. A noticeable one. Something made manifest in the additional second that passed before releasing the next steeple. It was enough to give Sarah the confidence to peer over at him. But, unfortunately, he'd leaned back just out of sight as she did so.

"That's the one you want to ask? Surely there are more pertinent things on your mind," he said, with a lighthearted tone that was also curiously slack. Sarah frowned in reaction to it.

"There aren't."

For a moment she wondered if he would answer her, wondered if he would deflect once more with something cavalier and entirely transparent. She was expecting it, honestly, which was why she was surprised by what he said next.

"Can you not guess it yourself?" he asked, pressing down on her fingers to pull back a card sharply across the table. "I gave it to him so that he would give it to you."

"Why?" From the readiness of her response, she thought maybe she'd come off too eager. She bit her lip and reigned it in. "I know how important your names are. How closely guarded they're supposed to be. So... it's been bugging me. I just don't understand why you would…"

"Give it to a total stranger?"

"...Yeah."

She was feeling a little deflated, and maybe it was something Jareth picked up on. He seemed to lightly squeeze her hands as he sighed through his nose.

"It's been...a long time since I've heard anyone speak it. Someone other than Lochlan, that is," he said, and distracted them both by mindlessly laying out the cards before them. "Would you call me a cad if I said all I wanted was to hear someone else say it?" Sarah furrowed her brow and tried to turn towards him, but before she could do so he carried on with a self-deprecating huff. "So, how ironic was it when, for the first time in over a thousand years, I offered it to someone who showed not even the slightest interest in using it?" There was amusement in those words, as bitter as they were. Sarah wasn't sure what to say. She felt her hair shift as he subtly shook his head. "Although… I suppose I should be glad I chose not to wipe your mind of it. A mere five years later and here you are again, and here I've heard you say it thrice now. And to think, the first was following a marriage proposal. Astounding."

He sounded bewildered by the fact but it was a feeling Sarah did not at all reflect. She was still caught up on how honest he'd just been. Shockingly sincere to the point where the tension she once felt towards him now drained from her shoulders entirely. He really meant that, didn't he? It meant so much to him that he was keeping count of every instance. It was disillusioning and...sad.

She tried to flex her hands but they were slaves to his whim. If he sensed her struggle, he ignored it. Instead she shifted her feet, inadvertently pressing herself back against him more firmly. The feeling sparked something in her. Something severe. It seemed the tension hadn't left at all. It'd merely been biding it's time.

She gulped and tried her best to spy on him without having to turn. She saw nothing but a blur, so she focused on their hands instead. He was lifting hers again, about to place the pinnacle atop her castle.

"Oh," she said, and then felt something daring take hold. "Well...I guess I should feel flattered then. Was it everything you were hoping for? …Jareth?"

The cards fell from her grasp as she spoke his name, as the sound, low and sweet, rolled seductively off her tongue. The edge of the cards clicked together atop the structure and the sound of their contact in that momentary pause felt deafening. Sarah felt her heart thumping into her ears as she waited for his response.

He did not say anything. Nothing at all. And she worried that maybe she'd been too audacious. Maybe she'd read the atmosphere wrong. He placed her hands down on the table, and then she felt the dissolution of the magic that bound them. She was about to frown when his hands pulled away, but instead sucked in her breath when they pressed firmly against her wrists and slowly dragged up the length of her arms.

Something in the room changed: a static presence that had been lurking, quietly charging the air, now sparked. Sarah recognized it immediately, but regret was slow to follow.

"Hm...how brazen of you."

Sarah stood stock still, her breath hitching in her throat at the salacious provocation nuanced in those words. His tone had dropped, and her face grew hot as it ignited something invigorating within her. Oh shit. She wasn't expecting this. Wasn't expecting her true colors to show through nor him to be so easily triggered by them. She thought maybe he was just testing her, or worse -teasing. But his hands continued to move, catching on the fabric of her dress and bunching up her sleeves as he gripped her with unspoken intention. She had no idea what he was doing, or how she would respond, but by the time he reached her biceps the faint rise and fall of her chest had quickened its pace.

She felt cornered. Caged. …Captivated.

His hands encircled her arms and squeezed, just slightly, and she knew from the tingle in her cheek that his face hovered achingly close to hers. She licked her lips, the sudden intensity of the moment about to betray her. She turned her head fractionally, just enough to catch his gaze. When their eyes locked she saw his had sharpened, turned dark, and were now intensely framed by smokey blue shadow.

"Say it again," he dared her, wickedly, a challenge rising along with the heated air between them. Sarah was entranced by it, by him, by the dangerous look in his eye that made the game so thrilling.

It was sheer instinct that she turn her head even more, knowing exactly what it would mean. Her lips were already parted. Her eyes were just starting to close. She had no intention of saying his name -when a sudden and very jolting series of knocks came at the door behind them.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

The sound was so jarring that, in addition to a very unladylike gasp, Sarah actually lurched forward into the table, sending her pretty little castle flying all over the room in an obnoxious flurry.

Jareth, however, stood completely motionless, keeping her caged and hidden behind his cape as the door creaked open.

"Jareth? Ah, there you are. Forgive me, I have to ask you something-"

Sarah recognized the voice as Lochlan's and froze. Completely ignoring what she had so obviously been about to do, she instead panicked over how the scene might be interpreted by Lochlan. Accurately, she admitted, but still. She stood as quiet as a mouse as she huddled into the cavern Jareth's arms provided, and saw his hands had turned to fists against the table top. Oh. Oops.

Jareth turned his head back sharply, carrying with him a seething glare that could all but kill.

"What?"

His voice was a bark. Was clipped and elevated and, if they had been aware of each other's presence, both Sarah and Lochlan would have shared an empathetic flinch. Lochlan paused in his stride, caught off guard by how dark his eyes had become.

"Are...you alright?" he asked, warily. Jareth, realizing his outburst, closed his eyes as he subdued the sensation.

"I'm fine," he said, bitingly, and cocked his head in an odd manner as the marks receded. Sarah stared up at him anxiously. What the heck was that? She'd caught his expression and it...it reminded her of when she'd slapped him. The way the markings around his eyes had flared just now was...alarming.

The sound of his gloves crinkling as his hands clenched distracted her, so she looked over at the table. He was definitely angry. Maybe she should make herself known...maybe she should just cower under the table.

"Right...do you need to go to the d-"

Before Lochlan could finish his sentence, Sarah felt the discretion of Jareth's arms leave her as he turned and angled himself back. He lowered his arm, which lowered his cape, which revealed the innocent ears Lochlan did not know we're listening.

Sarah and Lochlan each exchanged gapes, though he recovered much more readily.

"Oh. Sarah. So we meet again. I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." His smile stretched from ear to ear and was one hundred percent forced. Sarah stared at him skeptically for a moment, then turned the same expression up at Jareth as she stepped away from him.

"Um...hey."

Lochlan regarded the two of them closely. Jareth's eyes were still shadowed, but she looked okay. In fact, she looked a little flustered. Hm? Ooh. Maybe that was why Jareth was standing there ready to kill him.

"Forgive me...have I interrupted something?" he asked, impishly. Sarah's face flushed a bright red and she took several wide steps away from Jareth.

"What? Of course not," she said, defensively, with her nose turned high in the air. Lochlan's grin became authentic. He just couldn't help himself.

"Oh, good," he said, facetiously, and spared Jareth a shrewd eye. He hadn't settled yet...hm. Better play it safe than sorry. "But...actually, Sarah—" he said, turning his attention unto her. "—I have some business to discuss with Jareth. Would you mind excusing us for a moment?"

There was something far too perceptive in the way Lochlan was grinning and it made her want to walk up smack him. Although, in actuality, she knew she should probably be thanking him. God knew what was about to come over her just then and it was something she'd be better off without. For now at least.

She stood there dumbly for a moment and realized he was trying to kick her out. Oh? More secrets? Great. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms out in front of her.

"Sure. I'll just go back to wandering, I guess," she said, sardonically, and turned to Jareth. "Thanks for the help. I'll...see you later?" Boy that felt weird. Why the hell was she trying so hard? And why the hell was he not trying at all? She at the very least expected him to meet her half way with that one. But no, he only stood there and glowered. Sarah nodded to herself and looked away. "Okay, cool. Bye then."

She left very briskly after that and was even nice enough to close the door behind her. Jareth listened for the sound of her footsteps to recede before moving, before turning his glare in all its displeasure straight to Lochlan.

Lochlan's smile was as apologetic as he could manage.

"I was interrupting something, wasn't I?" he asked, with a wince. Jareth huffed and turned away.

---

Sarah walked all the way to the end of the hall before sparing a thought as to where she was going. Not that it mattered. Still, she forced herself to stop and take a minute to think. Holy hell. What had gotten into her just now? Was she really just that turned on by him? Surely that wasn't healthy...surely she'd developed a complex from certain childhood traumas….

But what was a girl to do? His eyes were just so blue. His pupils so strange and beguiling. He was too fucking pretty and exotic and effortlessly imposing. The fact that she could now appreciate these traits about him properly as compared to her naivety from back then was both terrifying and exciting.

Was she being too easy? Should she be coming off as more...demure? Oppositional? But...but no! Why the hell should she?! They were getting married for Christ's sake! The better they got along, the better her life would be. …right? Ugh. It hadn't even been a full 24 hours yet….

Now frustrated in numerous ways, Sarah shook her head clear of the frazzle and pressed onward. Right now, the farther away she got from him the better.

She stalked the halls for a short while until her stomach revealed to her that it was lunchtime. The grumble in her gut mirrored that of her thoughts in its displeasure.

She stopped and looked around, as if there was any hope to orient herself, and, unsurprisingly, came up blank. It had to be getting close to noon by now. Not that there were any clocks around to help her. But, she was still in an upscale part of the castle so she had hope she might run into a maid or someone before long.

As she stared down one end of the hall and then the other, she remarked on the way sounds of utter nothingness seemed to echo like the shallow breaths of a very dreary cavern, and her hopes of being happened upon by anything other than her own disappointment dwindled.

Sirene said if I was hungry to just summon a guard...hm…

But how exactly was she supposed to do that? The things were totally unresponsive!

She turned around in a half circle with tightly pursed lips. Even if you can't see them, they are always there...

"Um...guard?"

She kept on turning, then startled back when a towering stone suit was suddenly standing in front of her.

"Oh. Okay. Guess that works."

She took a healthy step back from it and raked her eyes up and down. Just like before, it wasn't moving. Were these things...really alive?

"Um, hi there," she said, with a curt wave. It did not respond. "Do you uh...do you know how to get to the kitchen?" she asked and waited….and waited, but her answer was ongoing silence. Sarah bit the inside of her cheek, starting to feel a little frustrated. "I thought you were a guard? How the hell are you supposed to protect anything if you just stand there like a statue?" she asked, her voice raising and ending in a huff. She placed her hands on her hips and looked away. "Lord Leche said I could ask you for information or errands. I don't see how that's going to work if you won't respond."

She was full on pouting now, her lips twisted as she glared to the side. She didn't know what she was expecting, but the fact that she was effectively arguing with herself hadn't dawned on her yet.

"Are you even alive? Do something already!"

Exasperation got the better of her and apparently the statue as well. At her command the guard stood to attention, stomping a foot and the glaive it held to the ground in salute. The action caught her by surprise and she flinched. Oh shit. What?

Sarah waited for its next move but nothing happened. Her eyes scoured it fiercely, trying to figure out what had triggered it. Was it something she said? Why did it not respond to any of her other requests? That's when she realized she had not given it a request just now but a command. Oh? Say your right words, is it?

Feeling a little more confident, Sarah stood straighter as she addressed the suit.

"Take me to the kitchen," she said.

The guard placed a hand over its heart and bowed.

"As you command, Mistress."

It's voice was low, an unnatural baritone. Sarah took a precautionary step back as it moved away from the wall and began to walk down the hall.

So...that was it? Awesome. Better not fall behind.

The guard led her in silence, Sarah content to trail behind as she analyzed the steady precision of its gait. It glided completely silent, like air. Given its bulky composition, it didn't make sense. This thing must have done really well in finishing school.

It took her down several floors, through abandoned and inhabited wings alike. She tried her best to mentally map out the place, but knew she was going to need escorts like this for a long time to come. The scale of this castle was just plain gratuitous.

They were walking down a corridor, no different from any other, when a sudden clamor captured her attention.

It sounded like something heavy falling, a consecutive series of booms that were immediately accompanied by a fevered, feminine shriek. Sarah stopped on a dime as she turned sharply towards it.

"Gimble! You cretin! Ohhh I ought to kill you!" The same voice that shrieked was now screaming, though this time with outrage rather than fright. Sarah's brow drew tightly as she watched a door very close to her fly open and a snickering goblin dart, in a very satisfied panic, clear out of the room.

"Stop," Sarah called out to the guard, whom she'd noticed was still walking away from her. It halted in the middle of the hall. The goblin meanwhile had since vanished, laughing in wild mischief as it scurried down a different hallway.

"Urrghhhh."

With the door now open, it was easier to hear the woman inside groaning in frustration. And, if Sarah was recalling correctly, it was most definitely Greta.

"Greta are you alright? What happened?" —that sounded like June. Or maybe Arlyn. They were both so soft spoken it was hard to tell by voice alone.

Sarah, curious and honestly a little concerned for Greta's wellbeing after that loud fall, approached the room. Her efforts were impeded however when someone very aggressively slammed the door shut.

Sarah stood there for a moment debating her next move. She was hesitant to barge in on them, but it would be weird of her to eavesdrop when knocking on the door and saying "what happened? I heard a crash" was perfectly appropriate…

She decided to play it safe for the time being and pressed her back against a recess in the wall.

"That stupid Gimble! Ugh! He's always pulling at my skirts! The little pervert! I swear I hate all those goblins. All of them!" Greta shouted, her voice only slightly muffled through the wall. Sarah felt a grin curling in spite of herself.

She heard something scraping against the floor (a chair maybe?), probably whatever had been knocked over.

"Maybe if you stopped reacting so dramatically, he wouldn't tease you so much."

"He wouldn't tease me at all if he were dead...ugh, this thing is heavy. Arlyn, come help me with it, would you?"

"You know, jumping off the ladder wasn't very wise. Look at the scuffs on the floor. Now we have to polish those too."

"I suppose it's easy to be so critical when you're not having your rear pinched by two-foot-tall miscreants every damn day!"

Sarah had to raise a hand to her mouth to cover her chuckle. It took some effort to understand what Arlyn was saying through the thick stone, but Greta's outrage rang clear as day. At least she wasn't hurt. That was good.

"And where the hell did Talia go? Wasn't she supposed to be helping us today?"

"I think she said something about getting another bucket…"

"Oh?" Greta said, followed by the loud bellow of something being dropped on a table. "Fat chance of that. I bet she went off to get her own rear pinched."

"Greta—"

"Yes, I said it. And I'll say it again too. I'm getting sick of her sneaking off and leaving us to pick up her slack."

"I think you're just angry you fell off the ladder."

"Of course I'm angry. I landed on my ass!" Greta exclaimed. Arlyn did not respond so Greta carried on. "Maybe if Talia was here she could have caught me or, better yet, swatted him away before it even happened. But noooo, she has better knobs to polish. I'm going to petition Lord Leche to punish that Gimble. It's high time he was hung by his entrails."

Sarah wondered if Greta was serious or just being dramatic. She hoped the later. …but deep down knew it was probably the former.

"So it's true then?" Arlyn asked. There was a little pause, and then Sarah heard Greta huff.

"Huh? Is what true?"

"That Talia is sleeping with His Highness?"

Oh? Now things were getting good. Perhaps eavesdropping had been the better choice after all. Sarah stood to attention as she listened for Greta's reply.

"Sleeping with The Prince? Pff. In her dreams maybe," Greta said, rather obnoxiously, and with a laugh. Sarah scrunched her brow.

"But...you're right. She is always wandering off to clean on her own. And I've even seen her sneaking out of her room at night, too. And sometimes she has those bruises…"

"Yeah. And I know for a fact exactly who she gets them from, and I assure you it is not His Highness."

"Really?"

"Fen told me that Corin told him that he's seen a certain dark haired beauty sneaking around after hours with a certain redheaded domestic down by the kitchens. On multiple occasions," Greta said, her voice lowered but not enough to be in any way called hushed.

"No...You mean Emet?" Arlyn asked, in disbelief.

"Mhmm."

"But...I could have sworn...from the way she acted this morning, that it was—"

"Yeah, don't let her fool you, Arlyn. Talia is full of shit."

Sarah's brow rose quite high at such off color language, as it seemed gossipy Greta had merely been showing her Sunday best towards her that morning. Getting a clandestine glimpse of their true selves, however, was very insightful.

"You and June haven't been around as long as the rest of us so I'm not surprised you don't know this but, despite what he is, she's been trying to snag His Highness's attention for years now—though I highly doubt she has ever succeeded. You know he avoids us more than we do him after what happened with Avana, right?"

"Yes. I heard about that from Sirene."

"Exactly. So how the hell could she possibly be sleeping with him? I can't even remember the last time I've seen him let alone interacted. Probably never, actually."

Well that was weird, wasn't it? Sarah remembered hearing the name Avana yesterday...what the hell was going on there? Oh, how the mysteries multiplied.

"You know what I think?" Greta went on. "I think Talia had a bit of ambition when accepting this post. She came straight from a brothel, you know. Probably thought this was her best shot to woo a prince. And look at her now, two decades later and she's hiding in closets with a kitchen boy, and he's suddenly engaged to a human."

Sarah's ears twitched at the reference and she focused more intently. So the conversation was shifting to her now? Good.

"That would explain why she's so upset...it seemed a little strange, really. She's being so mean to Mistress. But now I'm confused... I don't understand why she would want to be with him."

"I know. Me neither. Maybe that's why they chose her though. Odd tastes that one has."

And now Sarah was confused. What in the actual hell were they talking about? First she'd thought they were all sleeping with him, then she thought maybe he was abusing them, and now she got the impression they wouldn't touch each other with a ten foot pole —save Talia at least. While it wasn't like she wanted them to be floozing around, this just didn't make any sense. Jareth was a prince. The only prince. He was handsome, and by Lochlan's account powerful. He was a researcher which implied that he was smart, and she knew first hand he could be deviously charming so…what?

"I hope she doesn't get herself in trouble... especially now that Mistress has arrived. Madam asked us to look out for her, after all."

"Yeah I wouldn't worry about Talia. She looks mean but that's about it. Besides, she's got Emet to take out her frustrations on…" and her voice trailed of distractedly.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Arlyn asked.

"Yeah. Just sore. I'll probably have a big ol' bruise by the morning."

"Hm...speaking of, do you think we should warn the new mistress about the goblin's pranks? I'm not sure a human would survive some of their more clever ones."

"If she's really a runner then I'm sure she can handle herself. She hasn't seemed particularly phased by any of this, so…"

"Yeah. It's surprising. Do you think she knows?"

Knows? Sarah wondered. Know what?

"I don't know. It'd be very strange either way."

"I still can't believe they're marrying. I never thought he'd be allowed to."

Allowed?

"Well, he is still our prince. Someone has to propagate the gene pool."

"But with a human? That just seems so...unwise." There was a pause among the women as Sarah did her best to dissect their dialogue. Hopefully one of them said something a bit more concrete. Her imagination was running wild. "I feel bad for her, honestly," Arlyn said. Sarah frowned.

"I know. So do I."

Sarah's head cocked at the strange turn of their conversation. Why the hell would they feel bad for her? Wasn't marrying a prince a thing of envy? Did Jareth have some off-putting trait she had yet to encounter? Did it have something to do with whatever he did to displease his father? The vines of conspiracy were spreading like weeds through her mind.

"But Lord Leche seems happy. I suppose we should just trust him?" Arlyn asked.

"What else can we do? She's already here, and from what I gather they're already pledged. I just hope her kind is more durable than we've heard."

"Hm...she seems nice. I felt bad that we had to leave because of Talia this morning. She must be so lonely. I wonder what she's even doing right now..."

"I don't know...hopefully she's not lost though. What if she bumped into him? Eek. Poor thing will probably get eaten." Eaten? Sarah's inner voice repeated. Surely that was hyperbole. But even still, what the hell? None of her encounters with Jareth painted him anything even remotely that bad. A little trigger happy, maybe. But certainly not...monstrous. "Speaking of food," Greta continued. "I believe it's about time for our break. Let's get some lunch. We can polish the floors after."

Sarah heard footsteps after that and realized they were about to exit the room. In a panic, she held her breath and flattened herself against the wall as best as she could. She heard the door open, and the sound of their shoes scraping against the floor tiles as they entered the hall.

"Where do you want to break today?"

"I don't care. Wherever."

One of them took a few steps forward, enough so that Sarah could glimpse that it was Greta. She had her hands on her hips and was staring out at the wall in front of her. Sarah prayed she did not look back in her direction.

"Hey Seni," she said, and between a blink another guard instantly appeared. Sarah furrowed her brow. "Tell Cedric to have two meal trays sent to the botanical parlor on the seventh floor," she said, very assertively. The guard placed a hand over its heart and bowed it's head.

"As you command, My Lady."

"Thank you."

Greta turned, thankfully in the opposite direction from Sarah, and smiled at Arlyn (who was still standing out of sight).

"Let's go. I hear we're having duck confit today."

"Ooh, with the little pickled raisins?"

"Well there better be."

Their conversation faded as they walked away, and Sarah let out a long sigh of relief when they were both finally out of sight. That was a close one. Thank God the botanical parlor wasn't to the right. How mortifying would that have been?

She slouched against the wall as she relaxed, mulling over everything she'd just heard. It seemed like the people here were more than deferential, and certainly more than cautious of Jareth. They were down right aversive. Was it because of the temper Lochlan had warned her about? The messes he made? She didn't get any manic vibes from him in the card room earlier and, unless she just had some dangerously low standards, the way he'd manhandled her when she'd first arrived was certainly irritating but not exactly unmanageable. Not that those were reliable enough indications. Regardless...things weren't adding up. We're there two of him running around?

Plagued by contemplation, she kept her head lowered as she went back to her guard still idling in the middle of the adjacent hall. She had no idea what duck confit was, but the mere mention of food in any capacity was enough to set her priorities straight.

To the kitchens! her heart beaconed. And so she was off.

By command the guard escorted her the remaining distance which, thankfully, wasn't very far. It brought her to a tall hallway, the end of which was marked by a large set of doors. It stopped at the mouth of the hall and stood straight against the wall.

"You have arrived," it said, and gestured towards the doors about 30 feet in front of them. Sarah, still wondering how much sentience was truly behind that face shield, pursed her lips before responding.

"Thank you," she said, but received nothing in response. In fact, it had frozen in its position, arm still extended and head still lowered. Sarah waved a hand in front of it. Nothing. Geez. Thing was like the goddamn tin man.

With a long breath, she dismissed the contraption and turned away from it. Welp, there went her hopes of acquiring a conversation companion to fill out her days. These things were barely robotic. She'd get more stimulation of out a toaster.

With a shake of the head, she headed towards the doors. It would probably have been easier to just go back to her room and pull the rope, but she was still exploring. And besides, now she wanted to get a look at this redhead.

A rumble and tumble could be heard the closer she came to the doors. The clanging of pots and pans, a few harsh hollers, and what sounded like running water. She paused as she reached out for the handle, just now realizing that it was lunchtime which meant they were probably busy…

Thankfully the door was opened for her by a very flustered looking goblin.

It bounced back after seeing her, having nearly ran her down as it opened the door.

"Sorry lady. Didn't see ya there," the goblin said, rubbing the back of its head.

"Oh. It's okay. I didn't mean to be in the way."

The sound of her voice, unfamiliar to the kitchen staff, was enough to immediately draw the attention of the entire room. The energy of the kitchen, once positively bustling, came to a screeching halt as fae and goblin alike stopped what they were doing and turned to look over at her.

Sarah stood on the threshold, her posture turning nervous as all twenty+ sets of eyes fell on her.

"Um...hello there."

She wiggled her fingers in a nervous wave, but her only response were several furrowing brows. Sarah licked her lips and teetered on her heels.

"What's going on? Why have you all stopped working?" A man emerged from a room adjacent the kitchen with a towel gripped tightly in his hand. He looked a little worse for wear, his black hair falling messily about his face and a sheen glistening his darkly tanned skin. He wore a starched white chef's coat and, from the very irritated look on his face, Sarah gathered that he was the boss.

The man stopped in the center of the room, placed his hands on his hips, and turned to look straight at her.

Sarah stared like a deer in headlights. Oh God. Was she about to get screamed at?

The man's eyes locked with hers and, just when Sarah expected the worst, his expression did a complete 180.

A smile stretched widely across his face, and the aura of ire that had just been weighing the room immediately vanished. His posture relaxed, and he cocked his head a little.

"Well hello miss. Forgive me, I didn't notice you there." The artificial cheer in his voice was an equal contender against Lochlan's. Sarah took half a step back. The rest of them were still just staring at her.

"Um...hi. It's okay. I didn't mean to intrude."

The man draped his towel over one shoulder and took a step towards her.

"Intrude? Nonsense. We are here to serve. Please, do come in, my lady," he said, eagerly ushering her in. Sarah hesitated.

In the end, her stomach won. The scent of duck confetti or whatever was just too much to resist. She stepped into the room and quickly glanced around.

To the left were the sinks. To the right, a pantry. On the far wall across from her were a series of grills and ovens. A table on the far right served as a prepping station, and directly in front of her, behind the angry man, was a long, rough looking dining table scattered with culinary odds and ends.

The man, still grinning, bowed his head as he took her hand and kissed it.

"I hope you'll pardon my outburst just now. The atmosphere gets a bit hectic at meal times," he said, his voice now quite soft. Sarah smiled politely as she pulled her hand away.

"It's fine. Really."

"I've not seen you before, might you by chance be our mysterious new mistress?" he asked. Sarah's eyes darted around the people behind him. A few of them shared curious glances. Apparently everyone was hanging on her answer.

"Um...yeah. You may call me...Miss Williams, if you'd like."

"Thank you," the man said, smiling as he straightened. He ran a hand through his curled hair and then gave a grand gesture about the room. "I am Cedric, the head chef here at Faengsel. These here are my staff. Welcome to the kitchens, Mistress Williams."

Seeing the way Cedric was bowing, the rest of the staff did the same. Sarah endured by standing stiffly.

Cedric straightened once again and glanced back at the workers.

"Well? I doubt she appreciates your gawking. Get back to work," he said, utilizing that same striking tone that had even Sarah cringing a little, but by the time he looked back it was like the smile had never left. Geez. How stressful. "While we are undoubtedly pleased by your visit, I must say I am surprised. How may we help you, Mistress?" he asked. Sarah's eyes darted, unsure of what to make of this guy. He was tall, broadly built, such physique only emphasized by the way he had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow and the first two buttons undone on his coat. Granted, with all the ovens going it was incredibly hot. But still. Given his dark complexion and oddly white smile, he had a whole "week in Barcelona" vibe going on that didn't quite jibe with their surroundings.

"I uh...was wondering if I could get something for lunch," she said, with her eyes averted. Cedric's smile renewed and he turned and gestured towards the room.

"Well, I'd say you've come to the perfect place then," he said, cheerfully, and placed a genteel hand on her back as he urged her forward. He directed her to a chair at the table in front of them, and then snapped his fingers impatiently. "What may we prepare for you? Are you feeling hors d'oeuvres or an entrée? Would you like something to drink?"

"Um, anything is fine. Whatever you have ready," she said, politely.

"How considerate of you. Very well."

Cedric stood beside her with a hand gripping the back of her chair. Sarah thought his proximity to be a little close, but he was more occupied with directing the staff around the kitchen.

"Prepare our Mistress the confit. Bring out the antipasto while she waits."

Sarah fiddled her hands in her lap as she awkwardly wondered what the heck antipasto was and whether or not it would be something she would like. She was usually a burger and fries kind of girl...she hoped her vulgar palate wouldn't offend them...maybe she should have just spoken her mind.

"Would you like a spirit, Mistress?" Cedric asked. Sarah looked up at him reflexively.

"A what?"

He laughed, but not at her, and she too pretended that was a joke. She looked away with a strained smile.

"Water is fine," she said, wanting to keep things easy. Cedric nodded and snapped his fingers again. A moment later, goblins were laying out a place setting in front of her. One brought out her starter while another poured her drink. "Thank you," she said, and took dainty sips.

"Do you have any preferences for the menu, Mistress? Any allergens I should know about?"

Sarah set her cup down and looked up at him again.

"Not really. My experience with food is limited, so I'm looking forward to trying whatever this world has to offer."

A little spark lit up Cedric's eyes and he gave in to take the seat next to her.

"Now that's what I like to hear," he said, with genuine excitement. It made Sarah smile, her nerves starting to fade as she decided he might actually be friendly. "I admit, I was a little nervous this morning when I heard you hail from the above. Was breakfast to your tastes?" he asked. Sarah blinked. She hadn't realized that tart had been designed especially for her.

"It was. I thought it was delicious, actually. I appreciate your consideration." He looked pleased by her response, so she glanced away to inspect this antipasto business. It looked like a pile of random bits: torn chunks of cured meats, cheese, what she assumed were a variety of beans, and some greens to tie it all together. It smelled like vinegar, and with that did she realize this was just like that weird Italian salad Karen always ordered from the pizza place. Huh.

"I'm glad to hear that. I've studied Aboveground cuisine, but that was some time ago now. I've no idea how it's changed over the last century."

"I don't think you need to worry about that. Everything I've eaten since coming here has been to die for," she said, trying to eat as gracefully as possible while he watched her.

"You flatter us, Mistress," he said, placing a hand to his heart. Sarah covered her mouth with her knuckles as she chewed, and then got another drink.

There was a break in the conversation, so Sarah took the opportunity to spy on the room. The staff were mostly goblins, dwarves specifically, and the few fae she saw were all brunettes. Hm. Guess she'd have to meet Emet another day.

While she was distracted, a goblin came to bring out her main dish. As the waft of freshly baked meat filled her nose, she looked down at her plate with widened eyes.

It was a meal alright. A big fat golden leg of poultry, still sizzling and dripping with brine, crafted atop a nest of sautéed green beans and creamed squash, with decorative accents of thyme and bay leaves, and what she assumed were those pickled raisins that Arlyn had been so excited about. It looked way too fancy to be eaten. But oh, how her mouth watered.

"Wow. This is lunch?" she asked, bemused. Cedric smiled widely.

"Indeed. This time we've brined the meat in a garlic and juniper sauce. Please, let me know how it tastes."

There was a very eager tension about him that bordered on unsettling as he stared at her. He really wanted her to try it, and she sat there wondering if she really should. Then she reminded herself that he was the head chef. It made sense that he would be passionate about the quality of his food.

Humoring him, she looked away and tried a bite.

"Oh...oh wow," she said, mumbling on a mouthful in a moment of surprise. She covered her mouth as she swallowed. "That's fantastic." She turned and gave him a very serious eye. "I don't think I've ever had duck before. It's like butter." She turned back to her meal and dug in, manners be damned. Cedric smiled from ear to ear.

"I'm pleased to hear that. I'll make a note of it for future."

Sarah ate the rest of her meal heartily, nearly clearing her plate clean. Cedric watched her the entire time and, despite knowing he was probably deriving some sense of perverted gratification from it, did not feel any shame in allowing it. He deserved it for making such a great meal. God, she was already thinking about dinner.

"Thank you for this. It was delicious," Sarah said, sitting back as the kitchen hands cleared the table.

"Any time, Miss Williams. We here in the kitchens appreciate a strong appetite," Cedric replied.

With the table cleared, Sarah looked around. The fervor had died down. There was less cooking and more ushering, goblins coming and going as they chauffeured covered trays to waiting recipients. She wondered where they all went.

"Well...I've taken up enough of your time. I'll get going now," Sarah said, and pushed back from the table. Cedric stood with her. "Thanks again for the meal, and it was nice meeting you, Cedric."

Cedric bowed his head towards her.

"The pleasure was surely mine, Mistress. Anytime you are in need of replenishment, do not hesitate to call on us."

"I won't."

"Oh! That reminds me…" he quickly added, and then glanced down to rifle through his pocket. "Being the new Mistress, I wanted to give you this." He pulled out a keyring, and fingered through to find one in specific. He pulled it loose and offered it to her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"The key to the pantry," Cedric said, gesturing towards the door on the far end of the room behind her. Sarah turned around and glanced at it. "This way, if you're ever in need of a midnight snack, you can come down here after hours and help yourself," he explained. He waited for her to look back at him and then gave her a wink. "That key also unlocks the wine cellar below. His Highness enjoys only the finest vintages, so I'm quite proud of our selection. Feel free to help yourself."

"Oh. Thank you. But...why is the pantry locked?"

"Have you seen my staff?" Cedric asked, incredulously. Sarah's eyes darted around. "Goblins are prone to a little kleptomania, especially with expensive imported meats and alcohols. We've since learned to keep such things firmly caged."

"Ah. I see," Sarah replied, thinking back to the drunken stupors she'd seen many a goblin in while she stormed the castle all those years ago. Yeah...she could see that being an issue. Cedric looked across the room and suddenly his face lit up once more.

"And before you go—" he said, fluttering his fingers at a fae staff member in signal to bring him something. Sarah turned back just as the man brought forth a covered basket and offered it to Cedric. "Take these. A trifle of a welcome gift, but I hope you'll enjoy nonetheless."

He offered the basket to Sarah, who curiously opened the lid.

"What is it?" she asked before actually looking inside.

"Just a few chouquettes," he said, releasing the basket to her custody. Sarah peered beneath the lid again.

"Sorry, a what? I don't know what that is."

"Pastries," he said, in the common tongue. "We serve them with tea after supper. This batch, however, is filled with cream. They're quite delicious on their own, if I may say so myself."

The scent of sugar made its way to her as he spoke, and now Sarah was hungry all over again. The bottom of the basket was warm, so she imagined these were still fresh from the oven. Oh dear. If this was any indication for the future, she was going to end up a cow by Christmas.

"I'm excited to try them. Thank you," she said, prettily, and clutched the basket close. Dessert had always been both her best friend and worst enemy. Usually at the same time. She allowed herself this indulgence however; after she shit she'd gone through this week, she'd earned it. "I'm looking forward to dinner. See you later," she added, as she turned to leave. Cedric, and any remaining staff, bowed to her as she departed.

---

A guard showed her the way back to her room by way of the shortcut Lochlan had mentioned the previous night. It was only a couple minute walk. That was nice. She imagined journeying down for quite a number of midnight snacks in the nights to come.

When she reentered her room, she found it was slightly past 2pm. Hm. Only half her day was spent and she already had no idea what to do. A part of her thought about trying to find Jareth again, but she resisted. For all she knew, his business with Lochlan had not yet finished and besides, it was bad enough to come off as easy, but to be regarded as eager was just a step too far. She knew enough that if they were going to have a relationship, he needed to respect her. She needed to be independent and able to hold her ground in some instances...if not others.

No. She would not pursue him. She would wait for him to pursue her. Yeah. That sounded good.

She munched on her fancy French puffs as she paced throughout her room. The jury was still out on all of this, but she was starting to think there was something more significant to Lochlan's request from earlier. Don't let their opinions jade you, he'd said. Had he actually been talking about the maids? Clearly there was something going on here on the down low. Something that made them fear for her durability. And again, Sarah worried over abuse -the memory of the way he'd snapped at Lochlan so viciously replaying very clearly in her mind. But...even she acknowledged that had been mostly justified. Lochlan had kind of shattered the mood n' all.

It would be naïve to write off so much suspicion...but really, she just didn't see it. When she was near Jareth...she might have felt intimidated for sure, but never afraid. She never felt like he was a danger to her or that he might hurt her. Even when he had his hands on her. Even when he was forcing his way. Maybe she just didn't know him well enough yet…or...maybe...they were the ones whose opinions were jaded.

She passed by the door leading to her balcony and brought the entire basket of morsels with her as she ventured outside.

The sun was bright. The sky perfectly clear. It was hot, but her room was at such an elevation that she caught a breeze. It was crisp, fresh, gentle. She saw there were a table and two chairs to her right, and decided to take a seat.

The landscape before her was vast. The horizon unreachable beyond miles and miles of forest. Sarah's brow slowly drew as she stared at it. Wait a minute.

Forest?

Munching on a puff, Sarah stood and walked towards the railing. She stared out over the scenery. Over the Labyrinth, and the city, and—

And where was the desert?

Sarah blinked repeatedly and did not just a double take, but a triple, and a quadruple take too. She...she could have sworn she remembered the Labyrinth sitting on a desert. Actually, she knew it for a fact. At yet, unless these cookies were making her delirious, the entire region was shrouded in dense greenery.

And not just the land, but the actual labyrinth too. Most of its walls were covered in vines or had just plain converted into shrubbery. She...remembered passing through a section like that back then, but it was nothing like this.

She hadn't realized it last night. The setting sun had rendered the night scape so dark that she'd taken shadows and their colors for granted. How the heck could it change so drastically in a mere five years?

She moved to the far side of the balcony to get as good a look as she could around the castle. From what she could see, the entire surrounding area was temperate. Was this...what they all kept referring to by new season? She'd have to ask someone about this...

As she stood at the railing, musing about her surroundings, another breeze lightly ruffled her hair, and with it came the smell of the forest and magic below. She inhaled deeply of it. Savored it's unique feel. She still held half a pastry in her hand and, as her reality dawned on her, she couldn't help but laugh. This wasn't so bad, she thought. Really it was...far from it.

She wondered how her family was doing. Wondered if her father had gotten to go home yet. Karen had to be going ecstatic. Toby must be really happy too. He'd been so nervous these last few months. She really hoped...he was happy.

She went back to her chair and basked in the sunlight. For the most part, the people here, this world itself, was very nice. She never would have guessed it. It'd been less than a week, but the memory of packing her bag already felt like so long ago. It was a little scary...how easily she was finding her place here.