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'.

9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9, Corridor

---

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Lochlan waited a beat before opening the door. He had a scowl on his face, one that twisted as his hand slowly turned the handle.

It'd been less than a day since they'd last spoken. Less than a day, and the sentinels were now on watch level two. Normally that would mean nothing, t'was par for the course, but present circumstances were making it hard to remain objective. Jareth wasn't exactly in the best of moods when last they'd met...He hated to think his curiosity had triggered a genuine fit.

The door creaked open by the push of his hand, though that was the only sound to greet him. He looked from one end of the room to the other, then stepped inside.

He was sitting behind a desk. Sitting with his head lowered towards the tabletop with an arm curled protectively around a book. The shades on the windows had been drawn. Whatever light that managed to break through the seams was all that lit the room. Lochlan's scowl turned into a frown. Oh dear.

He approached and observed in silence. Jareth did not acknowledge him, only continued to draw one horizontal line after another down the length of a page in the book.

"Are you alright?" Lochlan asked. Jareth was silent. "...is it bad?"

There was no falter in the repetition of Jareth's movements. None at all.

Lochlan felt his cheek tightening in a wince.

"How long?" he asked as his eyes lowered to the notebook. The lines were drawn so closely together that the image looked like one solid shape, and the force of Jareth's hand...left deep indentations in the paper.

Lochlan was not given an answer to that question, not that he expected one. He stood in silence as the mood of the room grew heavier.

The sound of Jareth turning the page came as a loud scrape that should not have been so jarring. Lochlan blinked out of his daze and swallowed.

"It wasn't because of our conversation, was it? I...apologize if it was. You know I would never—"

The sound of his voice was cut short by the sudden slamming shut of the book. Lochlan's attention darted to Jareth's hand clawing over the cover just as he finally lifted his head.

The skin around his eyes was black. The whites of his eyes brightened and livid by the contrast. Lochlan watched a moment of strain twitch each corner as he drew back in his seat.

"What do you want?" Jareth asked, turning his chair away from the desk.

"To check in on you," Lochlan replied. Jareth closed his eyes as his ears flexed in discomfort.

"So doting," he said, facetiously, then stood from the chair. Lochlan took a step back.

"Could you answer even just one of my questions?"

Jareth paused, then snapped the pencil he held before tossing it away.

"And appease that self-serving conscience of yours? Verily," Jareth replied, shooting him a sharp side eye as he walked away. Lochlan, if it were at all possible, looked even more pitiful with his eyes now cast on his back. Jareth stopped mid-step and stretched his neck. "Take a breath, Lochlan. You bear no responsibility here —I felt it this morning."

Lochlan's brow furrowed, but he said nothing right away. There was a hunch in Jareth's shoulders, like he was carrying a literal weight there. What a pity.

"What was the trigger?" he asked. Jareth glanced back with a halfcocked grin.

"Who knows?" he replied, then shrugged. "Dreams of folly, perhaps." He rolled his eyes, but the gesture was inadvertently painful. He grimaced as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Lochlan took a step towards him.

"So it was spontaneous then? Again?"

That word, again, was unnecessary. It grated against Jareth's ears like claws. Spontaneous episodes had been coming on again and again, more and more often —but they both knew that. Jareth's head twisted as the claw in his ear dug in a little deeper…

"If it's that bad, you should go to the dungeons," he heard Lochlan say.

Jareth snarled.

"I know my limits," he said with a bite. Lochlan resisted the urge to reach out.

"I can go with you, if you'd like."

And now Jareth laughed. It was a wicked sound. Misplaced and yet so fitting in this dark, decrepit place.

"Carry on, love. I'm fine."

He spoke with his usual cadence, but the tension in his posture was irrefutable. Lochlan sighed and reached back for the book. As he walked past Jareth, he forced it into his hands.

"I do hope so. There are more delicate matters to consider now," he said, giving him a very shrewd eye as he passed. "—you know, like the one you've sworn to marry?" Meaning hit its mark and Lochlan glanced away, sighing very softly again before heading for the exit. Jareth gripped the book tight in hand. "More sketchbooks arrived with the last shipment. I've stocked them in those cabinets there, if you need them," he added on. Then, concealing a very grave look, slipped quietly out the door.

---

Sarah awoke to a nest of her own hair piled upon her face. She blew a puff of air up into it before pushing it all away with her hands. The morning light seemed particularly bright today. She winced as she rolled over onto her pillow.

She starfished across the uneven mass of blanket and pillows scattered around her bed, and gradually waited for the haze to clear. She'd stayed up kind of late last night —but doing what, she had no idea. Staring into the wallpaper, she supposed.

She sighed as she sat up and rubbed away the sleep from her eyes. It was quiet, peaceful, but far too glowy for early morning. She glanced over and saw the clock struck eleven.

Damn. She must have really been tired. But, actually, this might work out better for her. Now she didn't have to figure out what the hell she was going to do with herself until lunch.

She hopped out of bed and headed for the shower. Big news, World! Sarah Williams had plans today.

She'd explored the left. She'd explored the right. She'd explored outside. And now, finally, it was time to explore the town.

Lunch with her friends was long overdue. It had to be...gosh, going on nine months since she'd last seen them? She felt guilty for keeping out of touch for so long, but wouldn't they be so excited to see her?!

Yeah!

Maybe?

She hoped so anyway.

Truth be told, this little get-together was a totally one-sided affair. She wasn't even sure how to find them, frankly, let alone able to check ahead to see if they would even be home. Oh well. T'was an adventure! was it not?

Hopefully Captain Merek would pull through. She'd been fully prepared to lose herself within the labyrinth again. But, as it turned out, the people controlling this place actually knew a thing or two about it —or so they said. She'd find out soon enough, anyway.

---

Dinner the previous night was business as usual. Sarah was sitting quietly and politely while glancing about the rest of the table. They had each given her a courteous greeting but, just like before, did not seem particularly interested in getting to know her.

That was fine. She'd rather observe them anyway.

Greta was going on about some goblin antics, waving her hands around and making everyone within arm's reach flinch. Merek teased her, while Bastian came to her defense. Dermot chuckled but sucked in his lips after catching the look of scolding Madam Miri was giving him. Lochlan was late. Sarah found that interesting.

When he finally arrived, everyone stopped what they were doing to welcome him.

"About time, Leche. You nearly missed dinner," Merek said. Lochlan shrugged as he took his seat.

"Alas, some of us have actual responsibilities," he responded playfully, then glanced Sarah's way as he unfolded his napkin and placed it over his lap. "Good evening, Miss Williams."

"Um, good evening," she said, and realized the primary reason he'd singled her out was because she had been staring at him. She blinked and looked away. God, was she really just that bored?

"How was your day? I have not gotten to see you at all. I found it a bit distressing," he said. Sarah averted her eyes.

"It was fine. Nothing to worry about."

She was too busy trying to be nonchalant, and thus didn't see the dialogue that passed between the locked side eyes of Lochlan and Merek.

"A relief," he said, observing her carefully. "So, what did you do today? Come across anything...interesting?"

There was inflection in that question. Sarah slowly pulled the fork from her mouth.

"Ah...I guess. I explored the castle some more….then went outside for a bit—"

"*Gasp* Outside? By yourself? Did you really?" Greta asked, stealing everyone's attention with her fervor. Sarah glanced down the table and found that every single one of them was looking back at her.

"Yeah? I still don't get what the big deal is. The new season is really pretty," she said, then leaned back in her seat. "If not a little unkempt...is there a groundskeeper here?" she asked, directing the question to any of the four men sitting across from her. All eyes turned to Dermot.

"I...suppose that would fall under my jurisdiction," he said, awkwardly, and ran a hand through his hair. It was a rich brown color, curly but glossy, and pulled back in a low ponytail. "I must admit, Mistress, the state of the lawn has taken less priority over other matters."

"Hm…"

Sarah's ominous hum was enough to cause visible tension in him, which (while initially confusing to her) was a confirmation that her pending position actually did grant her some authority here. Oh —well that could be fun.

Curious to test this influence of hers, she leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs.

"I see. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to spare a hand anyway? It's a shame to see all those lovely fixtures crumbling like that."

Her voice raised an octave. Turned light and girlish. Of course, this veneer was meant to fool no one. Dermot gave her a twitchy grin as he bowed his head.

"Of course, Mistress."

"I'd like to help out as well," she added on, trailing a finger along the rim of the table. "Seems like a fun hobby."

She was very careful not to phrase those words as a request. Which, from the little tick of confusion that cocked Dermot's head in reaction, was apparently the right move. He did not respond right away, his mouth opening slowly like this was a situation he'd never been in before.

"Ah...of course? Whatever you wish," he said.

Sarah grinned. If he were a dog, she might have patted him on the head—

"Do you enjoy gardening, Mistress?" Arlyn asked. Sarah looked around Miri and Sirene to face her.

"I don't know. I've never done it before."

"I used to help my mother in the garden," June replied, staring down at her plate as she pushed around her peas. "She found it very relaxing."

"And how did you find it, June?" asked Talia. There was some sarcasm there. Sarah watched June's nose crinkle.

"Dirty."

"Well I think it sounds fun," Greta interjected, placing both hands flat on the table as she turned and leaned over to get a good look at Sarah. "May we join you, Mistress?"

Sarah blinked.

"Um...yeah?"

"We don't mean to be presumptuous," Sirene piped in —perhaps misinterpreting Sarah's surprised expression as one of reluctance. Sarah looked over at her. "—but it would be a nice change of pace. On that I think we can all agree...only if you will have us, of course."

She dipped her head respectfully and with a smile. Sarah pursed her lips as she gradually leaned back in her seat. Well damn. She wasn't really hoping for this to become a social activity, but she'd come off as rather uppity to tell them no now, wouldn't she?

"Ah...yeah. Definitely. Whatever you guys want."

"Oh goody!" Greta squealed, clapping her hands together as she fidgeted in her seat. Talia crossed her arms and took her wine cup with her as she slouched back in her chair.

"Tch. Look at you, bouncing in your seat over playing in the dirt? You should see yourself right now," she chided. Greta stopped immediately.

"What are you scowling for, Talia?" Captain Merek was quick to retort. Everyone's attention shifted to him. "Are you not even more excited? Playing in the dirt should be right up your alley, shouldn't it?"

Talia scowled. Actually, no, the expression she directed at him was something far more nasty and potentially fatal. Sarah's eyes veered away from it on reflex.

"Oh sod off—"

"Talia—" Miri suddenly interrupted. Her voice was raised. Hard. Every single person at that table deferred to it. After a second of silence, she inhaled sharply through her nose and turned her glare onto Merek. "Captain, your candor is not much appreciated. Please speak to my ladies with more respect."

Whether or not Merek took the scolding seriously was impossible to tell. Sarah watched as one of his eyebrows twitched before angling his head down.

"Of course. Forgive me, Madam."

Oh no. were things about to get awkward?

"Well!" Lochlan proclaimed, answering Sarah's thoughts by shredding clear through the impending tension right in the nick of time. And now they all turned to look at him. "—since it seems like the whole castle is getting in on it, why don't we make it a proper event?"

"Huh?" Sarah replied. He was smiling. Looked so freaking excited. What the hell kind of wavelength was he even on? She was still sitting rigidly with her hands tightly clasped in her lap, and she wasn't even the one who'd gotten in trouble!

"Lord Leche, you're not suggesting we throw ourselves a garden party, are you?" Sirene asked, quick on the uptake. Lochlan leaned over the table a little as he gave her a wink.

"Quite right, my dear. It's been a very long time, hasn't it?"

Sarah's brow slowly furrowed.

"A...garden party?"

Lochlan, breaking the apparent flirty link that had formed between him and Sirene, leaned back in his seat and casually resumed his meal.

"If you would allow it. I feel the need to redeem myself. You've been here over two whole days and I have yet to show you a proper welcome," he said, then glanced down the table at the rest of the group. "How about it then? Shall we clean up the lawn and throw our new mistress a little welcome luncheon? Maybe use the opportunity to get to know her a bit? How does that sound?"

"Um…"

"Oh that's a fantastic idea, Lord Leche!" Greta called out, the first in a procession of gratuitous swooning.

"Yes, simply divine!" said Sirene.

"Oh. A party? Really?" muttered Arlyn with a meek smile, who flinched bashfully when Greta then jabbed her with an elbow.

"Aren't you excited, Arlyn? Oh, I can't wait!"

They all began to prattle among themselves, overpowering whatever Talia and June may have said down at the end of the table. Sarah, feeling suddenly very introverted, looked away from them and back at Lochlan. He was, after all, still waiting for her verdict.

"Sure...sounds good," she said.

Lochlan's smile renewed.

"Excellent," he said, then turned his head sharply to the left. "Dermot, how long do you think landscaping will take?"

Dermot paused and lowered his fork.

"To do the whole of the castle grounds? With our equipment? A few months," he said, then spared a moment to think. "But...to ready one courtyard? Just a few days...a week maybe."

"Good," Lochlan replied. "Then we shall schedule our event for immediately after. That will give Cedric some time to plan a menu as well."

"Oh. Um—" Sarah interrupted, impulsively raising an index finger into the air. Lochlan and Dermot turned their attention to her. "If we're inviting people, can the kitchen staff come too? Seems a little unfair they have to stay down there all the time."

They both blinked. For a split second, she worried they were going to tell her no. But, as always, Lochlan's smile turned ever brighter.

"Of course. How considerate, Mistress."

"Hear that, Talia?" Greta said, arching a brow as she turned her head shrewdly. "The kitchen staff is coming."

"What of it?" Talia snapped. Greta shrugged.

"Hm...nothing."

"Should I...invite His Highness?"

There was silence after that. Sarah should have expected it, but still felt awkward with how abruptly it cleared the air. Everyone turned and looked at her. Sarah wondered why the fuck that was such a triggering question.

"Of course," Lochlan said, quick to break that tension as well. Sarah looked across the table at him skeptically. The tone of his voice had softened. When their gazes met, his seemed somehow...eager. "It would be expected."

Sarah's brows knitted in the center once more. That lull just now bothered her. It was like...he was trying to reassure her. She didn't get it.

"Okay…"

The silence among the other dinner guests endured for a few awful seconds, leaving Sarah to wonder if bringing up Jareth had been a mistake. They no longer seemed so excited. That made her sad.

"Do...you really think he'll come?"

Sarah looked up from her plate to lock eyes with Greta. Her expression, surprisingly, was curious.

"I...don't know?" she replied with a little wince, then looked away. "Can't hurt to ask though, right?" No one responded. Sarah tapped a finger against the table. "Oh...speaking of…" she went on, eager to shift topics as she looked over at Miri. "—apparently my dresses are too long. The Prince suggested I ask you to alter them for me."

Miri drew back and blinked, and it was the most physical reaction Sarah had ever seen from her. She looked surprised. Unnecessarily, Sarah thought.

"The Prince said that?" she asked. Sarah arched a brow.

"Yes."

Her response was deadpan, if not guarded. To her, Miri seemed just as nervous as the rest of them —and then the old woman smiled.

Her eyes lowered, and the tension about her changed until it was clear she had never been nervous. She was...excited? Sarah felt very confused.

"Hm...very well then," Miri said with a tenderness that Sarah had never before seen her express. She was about to question it when, once again, Greta interrupted.

"So...you speak with His Highness often?" she asked. Sarah's eyes shifted off of Miri.

"Ah...I guess?"

"Did you speak with him today?"

"Yes?"

"Really? When?"

"Um...earlier...outside. We uh...went for a hike."

And now she was being interrogated? Geez. What was up with these people? Were they afraid of him or not? They all had such a weird curiosity when it came to the two of them —like she was dating a freaking circus attraction. Honestly, she was starting to get a little irritated by it.

"A hike?" Greta repeated, then pressed a knuckle to her lip as she settled down in her seat. "Hm...that's so interesting…"

"Is it?"

Sarah almost laughed. She just couldn't help it. Exasperation was building. Though, while Greta failed to realize it, thankfully Sirene did.

"His Highness keeps to himself," she said, making sure to block Greta's profile out of Sarah's view. "We really don't see him very often. So I apologize, on behalf of us all, if the matter seems...sensationalized."

She seemed to mean that. Or maybe it was just her tone of voice that was placating. Regardless, Sarah backed down and chose to let the issue go.

"That's alright…" she said, then pretended to resituate her napkin. "We are getting married though, so...it only makes sense that I should see him?"

And now she sounded insecure. Lochlan's expression softened as he regarded her. Sirene's warmed.

"Indeed," she said, kindly.

"So, you went for a walk in the woods?" Lochlan asked. Sarah peered up. He had a quiet, if not curious, air about him too. "Anything else?"

"Um...not really."

"You shouldn't go in there."

Sarah turned sharply towards the very end of the table, at Bastian, who'd just spoken to her for the first time that night. He was staring at her very intently, but with a kind of hunch in his shoulders. He spoke out like that (to anyone) very rarely, which gave her the impression that he might be shy. Sarah tilted her head as she responded.

"Why?"

Bastian's brow furrowed tightly, and she saw him grip the handle of his steak knife tighter.

"There's bad things in those woods. Things that would eat you right up —or worse."

He looked genuinely worried. Sarah supposed he had a right. He was the game warden. He probably had a better understanding of the dangers untold than most. Sarah set her fork down.

"I guess it's a good thing I had His Highness with me then, isn't it?" she replied. Bastian didn't respond. No, if anything the worry in his expression only worsened.

And it was in that very brief pause that she heard Talia whisper to June, "Supposing His Highness did not do worse to her first."

Sarah twitched. Talia's voice was hushed —but not that hushed. It was obvious she intended herself to be heard. Sarah forced herself to smile and sat straighter in her seat. Was this bitch for real right now?

In perfect stride, Sarah turned her attention away from Bastian to glance, very haughtily, at Talia.

"You say that as if I cannot handle worse," she said, with a little bite. "Is it because I'm a human?" Talia quirked a smug brow but said nothing. That made Sarah laugh. "God, you have no idea what happened between us, do you? Let me assure you, I am more than capable of handling him," she said and huffed arrogantly. Then, with that nasty smile well in tow, she glanced back to Bastian. "Thank you for the warning, Bastian, I appreciate you caring for my safety. I will, of course, mind myself wherever —or with whomever— I happen to be."

Bastian, not expecting to be put back in the spotlight, darted his eyes away as he shriveled in his seat.

"O-of course…" he said, staring down and compulsively fiddling with his fork.

Sarah hoped the silence that then followed would be discomforting. Hoped with her entire being that Talia and everyone else at that table was sitting on needles as their minds unraveled with whatever implications might arise from what she'd just said. Of course, such dreams were too grand for her. No, that three second silence might as well have been filled with riotous applause from the way Lochlan was beaming, with so much pride, at the opposite end of the table.

"Well said, Miss Williams!" he suddenly cheered, unnerving her and everyone else with his queer sense of approval. Sarah turned to look at him wide-eyed. "So then, have you any plans for the morrow?"

He'd gone back to eating his meal. Was the only one to do so. Sarah hesitated before responding —needing to rewire some things to keep up with him and his random change in conversation.

"Oh. Um, yeah. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

Sarah scowled. Her temper was about to get the better of her just then and it's sudden departure left her feeling vacant. Perhaps that was something Lochlan had noticed. Maybe that was why he'd called over her attention so forcefully.

He was peering up at her between bites. Sarah blinked as she regained her bearings.

"I was...thinking about going to visit a few friends, actually," she said.

"Oh? And who would those be? I didn't know you already had friends here."

The rest of the table, taking cue from Lochlan, also resumed their meals. Sarah took a deep sip of her wine.

"Yeah. Goblins. The ones I met the last time I was here. I think I mentioned them to you before."

"You're friends with those things?"

This time, surprisingly, it was not Greta who interjected, but June. Sarah peered over reflexively.

"Why shouldn't I be?" she asked. Her eyes, with lingering resentment, slanted towards Talia. "They've proven better company than most."

"Oh, you're lucky then," June replied, lowering her eyes to her lap before gesturing towards Greta. "They tend to behave quite nastily towards this one here."

"Because she provokes them—" said Arlyn.

And now came Greta...

"Oh I do not!"

She started to puff up in her seat, and glared between Arlyn and June. Sarah, realizing June's question was not meant to be offensive, lowered her guard.

"Where will you be going exactly, if I may ask?"

Sarah turned towards Merek. He'd been completely silent since his quip at Talia. He acted so cheerful before, but now looked quite stern.

"Ah...I don't know?" Sarah replied. "In the city, somewhere. I don't know where each of them lives exactly. I thought I'd wander around for a while until I figured it out."

"Well that just won't do," said Miri, very suddenly. Sarah turned her head towards her. "A princess does not wander."

"Oh, I'm not a princess—"

"I agree," said Merek. Sarah's head turned again. "Allow me to locate them for you first, Mistress. I keep very detailed records on all the denizens on this island, so it shouldn't take long. Speak with me after dinner, yes?"

Sarah hesitated. She wasn't expecting them to want to involve themselves in her business.

"Oh. Okay. Thank you."

They all went back to eating their dinner after that. Eventually, the goblins came and took their plates in exchange for desert. Chocolate parfait was the night's delicacy. Sarah just stared at hers for a minute. Jesus. Between the basket of cream puffs, the maple syrup drenched French toast, and that raspberry tart, Cedric was sure to give her diabetes by week's end. Her glycemic index was screaming.

"Well, Dermot, what say you?" asked Lochlan. "Shall the ladies convene with you at the south entrance bright and early?"

"No. No, that's unnecessary," Dermot replied. Sarah noticed she was the only one hesitating to eat. "The boys and I will need a few days to do all the heavy lifting. Such work is not fit for a lady—"

"I don't mind," Sarah said, impulsively. Dermot glanced up in surprise.

"Even still," he replied, then looked away from her dismissively. "—such toiling can be dangerous, and I'd rather not place you in such situations."

"Dangerous how?" Sarah asked. He wasn't about to get all, women belong in the kitchen, was he? She could feel herself puffing up already.

"Tearing down trees. Removing boulders. Leveling the ground. Replacing broken and rusted pipework for the fountains. Etcetera," Dermot said plainly. Sarah deflated.

"Oh. Right."

"Once the ground is dug, and the beds ready to be seeded and plotted, I will call for you. How does that sound?" he asked, his tone perking up in a way that she found a little condescending. She felt her lips pursing in response.

"That's fine, I guess."

"Thank you."

He wasn't looking at her. That was probably a good thing from the way her own look was cutting into him. Still, it was generally pointless. Lochlan, with a wide set smile, raised his arm and clasped Dermot tightly on the shoulder.

"Excellent," he said, and shook him a little. Dermot peered over in annoyance. "This is going to be fun."

---

And so here she was, now with two indefinite plans for the future. A garden party sounded...kind of awful, actually, but she would force herself to be optimistic. Her more pressing concern now, however, was getting her lazy butt down to the kitchens. It was eleven-forty-five by the time she was finally dressed and ready. She hoped she'd make it down there in time to beat the lunch rush—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Sarah paused in her fussing and scampered over to the door. Her brow was twisted as she opened it, her gaze landing, with inadvertent scrutiny, on Lochlan.

"Hey," she said, giving him a blatant once over.

"Good morning, Sarah," he said, oh so cheerfully. "May I come in?"

Sarah stepped back from the threshold and opened the door.

"Yeah, of course. What's up?"

"Oh...the usual. Nothing particularly interesting. I just wanted to check in with you before starting my rounds," he said rather conspicuously. Sarah eyed him carefully. He looked like his carefree self, but there was a little strain to the way he spoke —like he was anxious.

"Okay…"

"Are you still planning to search out your friends today?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. Or...I was going to try to anyway. I'm still waiting to hear from Merek." —not that it mattered. She was determined to go into that city blind if it meant whittling away a few extra hours. Though...she supposed having a heading would be nice too.

"That's good..." Lochlan replied as his eyes lowered. "I actually spoke with the captain earlier this morning. I believe he has some results to share with you."

"Oh yeah? That's awesome. I guess I'll...wait for his call?"

"Quite," Lochlan said and smiled. "He'll find you when he's free."

"Okay," Sarah replied, and then...silence. He just stood there looking awkward. "Was there...anything else?" she asked.

"Actually...yes," he said and winced a little. Sarah looked at him questioningly. "There is something I wanted to tell you. I...am glad to hear you're venturing away from the castle today." That nervous strain he'd arrived with was back, with vehemence it seemed, working its way into the creases in his eye and the stiff way he carried himself. Sarah drew back from him.

"Why?"

Lochlan's eyes averted and he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Jareth was...in a bit of a mood this morning," he said. Sarah frowned. "I came to warn you of it. It's best you avoid him for now."

Sarah angled a foot in his direction and crossed her arms defensively.

"A mood?" she repeated. "Like one of the moods you warned me about on the boat?"

Lochlan nodded.

Sarah's expression became more disconcerted.

"Why is he in a mood?" she asked. There was some sarcasm molding that word. Lochlan shrugged.

"It happens."

"Mhm." An index finger tapped against her arm, and a hip jutted out to the side as her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You seem a little flustered. It's not something serious, is it?" she asked.

Lochlan, testing that bold front of hers, stared her dead in the eye for a long second.

"Nothing...out of the ordinary," he said in a much more neutral tone. "But I do want you to be careful. Remember what I said?"

"You mean about Jareth being prone to violence and that his fits are not always his fault?" Sarah replied. Lochlan cracked a small smile.

"Yes. That."

Sarah kept her eyes on him, feeling a little on edge by his sudden aloofness.

"...yes. I remember."

"Good. On that note, I would like for you to keep a guard with you when you leave your room today."

He said that plainly. Like the tension she'd just been feeling from him had been in her head all along. It unnerved her a little. She just couldn't get a proper read on this guy.

"Okay...are you sure it's nothing serious? An armed escort seems kind of...a lot."

"I am your guardian," Lochlan said, placing a genteel hand to his heart. "It's my job to be a little overprotective." Sarah stared at him with a frown, conveying much uncertainty. Lochlan picked up on these feelings and forced himself to smile. "But don't worry. Everything will be fine."

And that was it. He had nothing more to say, and somehow she knew it. For a split second, she thought he might actually tell her something, but the cleverly disguised dismissal in his tone let her know clear as day that she'd just hit a wall. He did, however, look at her much more seriously. Sarah regarded that stare of his, and then her brow slowly drew together.

"Okay...I'll keep an eye out for him, I guess," she said. Lochlan's mouth twitched in a small smile of reassurance, but it was hardly convincing.

"Thank you," he said and inclined his head towards her. "And...if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to fetch you for dinner tonight as well." He kept his eyes on the floor as he said that—lest he give anything away, she inferred.

"Alright?" she replied, turning her (now slightly bewildered) expression away from him —half wondering (if Jareth was supposedly so dangerous right now) why it wouldn't be better to just take her meal in her room.

Maybe he's indisposed right now, she thought. Maybe Lochlan has him strung up in chains somewhere…

"Excellent. I'll see you at eight," Lochlan said and, to her surprise, made a quick exit. Sarah stared after him as he bowed and then promptly shut the door behind him, her suspicions now confirmed that he was in a hurry to get somewhere. Did it have to do with Jareth?

She pondered that question, along with a million others, as she walked down to the kitchens. Like a good little girl, she followed a guard —trying not to think too deeply about the observation that there were noticeably more of them lining the halls than usual.

She opened the door quite hastily, nearly bashing her empty basket against the poor, unsuspecting head of a goblin.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said, and, again, the sound of an unfamiliar voice brought the well orchestrated mania of the kitchen to a grinding halt. Sarah looked up. Cedric, standing with his back to her, turned around and smiled widely.

"Miss Williams! You're back!" he said, wiping his hands off on a towel which he kept tucked into his apron. Sarah shut the door quietly behind her.

"Indeed I am," she said and held up the basket. "I finished those pastries. Figured I'd return your basket."

Cedric, with a nod of his chin, gestured for one of the goblins to take it from Sarah's grasp. The goblin bowed as she handed it over before scurrying away.

"How thoughtful," Cedric said, waving his hand at her in a come hither motion as he directed her to sit at the table. "Though you could have always passed it onto a goblin," he added.

"Yeah, I know. But I have a favor to ask of you too."

"You do? Already?" Cedric asked teasingly. Sarah stifled a laugh as she watched him move around the table to sit across from her. "My, what an honor. Whatever, in this great wide world, can I do for you, Mistress?" He laced his fingers together and laid his elbows atop the table. The way he smiled at her seemed a little flirty, she thought. Hm. Maybe he was just in a good mood.

"I was wondering if you could make something for me —well, not necessarily you, personally— and only if you're not too busy," she said hastily, her eyes darting around the bustling fae seeming to gain vehemence with every passing second. "I know I came at kind of the worst possible time…"

"Nonsense," Cedric exclaimed, waving a dramatic hand up in the air. "The rabble can starve for all I care. Your needs are paramount." The way he pointed at her was the picture of confidence. Sarah couldn't help but crack a grin. "So tell me, what may we prepare for you today?"

Sarah averted her eyes as a finger tapped awkwardly in her lap.

"Ah...some...sandwiches."

Cedric blinked.

"Sandwiches?" he repeated.

Sarah sucked in her lips and let her gaze cross with his.

"Yes. Peanut butter with strawberry jelly —if you have it," she said. And now Cedric was bemused. Sarah looked away again. "And um...some fresh fruit, I guess. Plums would be best. But really, anything will do. Something to drink would be good as well."

She wasn't quite sure why she was feeling so awkward. Maybe it was because she was asking what seemed to be a five star chef to make her toddler food. She hoped he wouldn't be offended. She hoped even more that he wouldn't laugh at her.

"I see. Planning a picnic are we?"

There was amusement in those words. So, he'd opted for laughing at her then? Well, she supposed that was better than pretension. She let her shoulders relax, and looked over at him again.

"...Yeah. Kinda."

Should she bother explaining that her friends' favorite treat had been peanut butter and strawberry sandwiches? That she hoped the nostalgia would serve as a sufficient ice breaker when she told them all about the good news?

Cedric's grin etched up into one cheek, creasing the corner of his eye with deep age lines that were actually very flattering. He leaned back in his chair before responding.

"How quaint," he said, then snapped his fingers while glancing to the side. "Emet—" he called out. Sarah's head whipped over immediately.

There was a man washing dishes in the sink at the far end of the room. He'd had his back to them all this time, but now turned to face her. He was very tall, lean but decently built, with a tanned complexion sporting a heavy splatter of freckles across his nose and cheeks. But, most importantly to Sarah and her inner gossip, he had short, curly, flaming red hair.

She cocked a brow as she appraised him. So, this was Talia's secret beau? Hm...Jareth was better.

"Put together a basket for Miss Williams. You heard her, yes?" Cedric told him. Emet bowed his head as he dried off his hands.

"Yes, Chef."

Then Cedric turned to look back at her.

"And how many are we feeding? Is it just you and His Highness?"

"What?" Sarah asked reflexively. She'd been musing bitterly about the quality of Emet's face, and so that word had more bite than she'd have preferred. She blinked and played it off with a smile. "Oh. No. Heh. No, I'm planning to meet up with some friends. So, four. Well...one of them could eat enough for four, so...I'll leave the rationing up to you," she prattled, giving him a little wave like she was just feeling oh so naturally casual.

Cedric, not picking up on any of her feminine nuances, grinned happily.

"Very well."

He nodded at Emet, who promptly turned and set about his task. There was a break in the conversation then. Sarah sat very anxiously in her seat as she stared at Cedric.

"Why...did you think it was for His Highness?"

Cedric tilted his head at her, his look one of total transparency.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, then cocked a brow. "Are you not his bride?"

Sarah's eyes darted away again.

"Well, yeah, but…" and then she trailed off stupidly. "Sorry. I was just caught off guard. Everyone else just gets all tight-assed whenever I bring him up."

Sarah glanced up sharply when she heard him laugh. He looked highly amused now, the emotion reaching up into his eyes as he stared at her.

"Oh, I don't doubt it," he said, then shrugged. "But, as they say, small minds fear that which they do not understand."

Sarah stared at him with latant suspicion —her head making a confused little twitch n' everything.

"And you do?" she asked. One of Cedric's brows arched sharply and his smile waned —ever so subtly.

"It's why I sought out this post."

Sarah's brow slowly furrowed. There was something about the way he was looking at her. Something of significance in the way his tone had calmed as he'd said that. Sarah opened her mouth to question him when a brand new wicker basket was dropped on the table directly between them.

"Here you are, Mistress," Emet said, his head lowered in deference as he took a step back. Sarah looked over at him quickly, caught off guard by how fast he'd prepared all that.

"Thank you, ah —Emet, was it?" she said, with a strained smile. Emet lifted his head, though kept his eyes low.

"Yes, Mistress."

Sarah blinked and sat prettily in her seat.

"Ah. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well," Emet replied, bowing one more time before taking his leave. Hm, what a well mannered fellow. Now she was even more curious about his relationship with the shrew.

"So, I hear we're to have a garden party," Cedric said, calling back her attention. Sarah bobbed her head to the side.

"Yeah...it just kind of happened," she said. Cedric grinned.

"You sound less than enthused," he replied, staving off a chuckle at the way her eyes widened with dread. "Don't worry, I'll make something so delectable you'll have no choice but to enjoy yourself. And, if that fails, there's always alcohol."

He inclined his head towards her to catch her eye, and then gave her a reassuring wink. Sarah made a little huff, something amused and relieved, and then pursed her lips in a smirk.

"About that," and she gave him a knowing eye. "—I do have something to say about the menu."

"Oh?" Cedric asked, leaning back in his chair once more. "Have you come up with any preferences?"

"Kind of. More of a...general suggestion, really."

"Do tell."

"So, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, because your food is amazing. Actually, how amazing it is is kind of the problem," she said, and paused. Cedric only stared at her quizzically. "I've noticed that a majority of your dishes contain a lot of fat and sugar. And, while those things are very tasty, I, personally, would feel less guilty having some….healthier options strewn in?"

The little upturn in her voice at the tail end of that sentence betrayed her uncertainty —as did the hunch in her shoulders. Clearly she was worried about offending him. Cedric couldn't help but laugh.

"Ha. They told me you were a plebeian," he said.

Sarah scrunched her brow.

"Excuse me?"

"I understand if you're intimidated. You're not used to indulging in such exceptional, rich dining —yes?"

Sarah hesitated. Her mouth hung open as she evaluated the misinterpretation happening. Oh. So he thought she was...was what? Feeling shy because her social class had never permitted her to experience fine cuisine? —not to say he was wrong in any way, but still. That was definitely not what she meant. Should she draw him a picture of the food pyramid?

In the end, she let it go. He'd gotten a chuckle out of her once again, so...all's well that ends well.

"Ah...yeah, sure," she said, lowering her eyes in a look of bewilderment. Cedric nodded his head.

"Fret not, Mistress. I'll be more considerate in future."

"Thank you," she said, then reached out and grasped the handle of the basket as she stood to her feet. "And...thanks for this, too —and for those pastries before. I ate every single one."

Cedric followed her cue and stood as well.

"Music to my ears, Mistress," he said, then closed his eyes as he dipped his head. "Enjoy your picnic."

---

Sarah carried her basket with both hands as she walked down the hall. It was surprisingly heavy. Although, after a quick glance inside at the collection of various fruits, triscuits, bottled juices, and (of course) the sandwiches, she was no longer surprised. She even spied a blanket and some napkins —that was awfully considerate of Emet, she thought.

She walked aimlessly for a bit as she pondered her next move. Lochlan had said Captain Merek would find her when he was free. So...was she supposed to wait around for him?

Maybe she could ask her guard where he was and go to him first. It would know, wouldn't it? Just like it'd known where Jareth was?

She stopped with the intention of making her request, and it was at that very moment that the man in question suddenly rounded the next corner to appear directly in front of her. Sarah looked over at the movement reflexively, catching Merek's quick twitch of surprise to see her standing there as well.

Sarah perked up a little as she turned to face him. Whoa. How convenient.

"Hey. I was just about to go looking for you," she said as he approached. Captain Merek smiled and bowed his head.

"Really? What a coincidence; I just set out to find you as well." He lifted his head and placed a proud hand on his hip. Sarah noted the way the gesture seemed to be more like a stance, and she angled a brow at it in reaction. His grin cocked on one side as he spoke again. "I think you'll be pleased to hear I have good news, Mistress. I believe I've located those goblins of yours."

"Yeah, Lochlan kind of ruined the surprise this morning and told me —but that's great." she replied.

"Hmph. Indeed. I have the dwarf's address for you here," Merek said, and reached in his pocket to pull out a slip of paper. He handed it to her, oblivious to the way her brow knit as she glanced over it.

"Thank you," she said, then looked up skeptically. "But...what about the others?"

Merek's hand went back to his hip while the other wove casually about.

"The knight you spoke of, Sir Didymis? You mentioned he was stationed as a Labyrinth patrolman. As such, he sleeps where he falls. It will take...more than a single night to find him," he explained.

Sarah pursed her lips. After the bridge in the bog fell, Didymus had told her his commanding officer assigned him to patrol the labyrinth. She never really thought too much about it, which had her feeling guilty over the fact that, apparently, he no longer had a home —and all because of her. Why didn't Didymus say anything?

Choosing to worry about that later, Sarah shook her head and pressed on.

"I see. But...isn't he part of your unit?" she asked. Didn't officers need to check in? Wasn't it important they know their whereabouts within something as fickle as the labyrinth? She expected, out of the three of them, that Didymus would have been the easiest one to find…

Merek laughed heartily, which was an adjective Sarah did not think should be applicable to this particular point in the conversation. She watched him carry on for a moment, feeling a little vicarious offense at the way he pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye as the outburst faded.

"No. No, forgive me," he said, and quickly composed himself. "The goblin militia is actually a separate entity from the soldiers I manage. They operate with near total independence from us. I've communicated with their general to find your missing knight, but...it is a process."

Sarah frowned. That was strange, wasn't it? Why were there two militias operating on the island? Was it because the goblins were natives? Did that mean that Erewhon forces were occupying the region? It would certainly explain Merek's arrogant reaction just now. Still...so many questions.

"Oh," was all she said, storing this new series of inquiries for a later date. "...and Ludo?"

"I'm told he's taken residence with the dwarf. Perhaps the two of them will have a better idea of where to find the third," said Merek.

"Oh. Okay."

"Yes...I wish I could be of better help to you, but unfortunately there are over a hundred thousand denizens inhabiting that city —and the public records they keep are...well...close to naught. It's a bit of a free for all down there."

Sarah drew back.

"Oh wow, that's a lot of goblins to sort through," she said, glancing down at the scribbles on her piece of paper once more. "I'm surprised you found Hoggle so quickly. Thank you."

Merek placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head.

"I merely do as I am bid, Mistress, but you are most welcome." He spied on her basket and tilted his head as he straightened. "Are you heading out now?"

"Yes. I thought I'd surprise them with lunch," she said and looked down at her basket. "—even if you couldn't find them. Like I said last night, I don't mind wandering the city."

Merek nodded.

"I see...are you going alone?"

"That was the plan."

"May I...make a suggestion?" he asked. Sarah quirked a brow. Why did she get the feeling this was about Jareth again? "Being head of security on the isle, it would give me peace of mind to send you with an escort —a soldier or two. Would that be permissible?"

Yep. Definitely about Jareth.

Sarah turned and glanced over her shoulder at her guard.

"Oh. You mean...those weird statue things?"

She turned back around with a look of puzzlement. It was one aptly reflected on Merek.

"Hm?" and then it clicked. "Oh, you mean the sentinels?" he asked. Sarah nodded with uncertainty. "Gods no. No, those do not operate outside the castle grounds," Merek explained with a tone that implied her presumption was just absolutely ridiculous. "I meant actual soldiers. Hot blooded fae."

"Oh...Okay?" Sarah replied, then shook her head. "Sorry, I'm a little confused. I haven't seen any actual soldiers here yet. I didn't realize the sentinels were something different."

This was also the first time she'd heard the term sentinel. Did she even know what that word meant? Oh god. Come on brain, don't blank now!

"Right. We have not had that talk, have we? Forgive me. I shall explain," Merek continued, to her relief. "My squadrons patrol the island, predominantly along the coast and the exterior of the labyrinth. The castle, however, is overseen by tools called sentinels."

"Tools? So they're not alive?" Sarah asked, recalling the weirdly mechanical nature of said creatures. "What are they exactly? I looked under one's visor and…"

"Oh no, you didn't," Merek said, aghast. Sarah looked up at him sharply. "Ha! I bet that gave you a fright!"

He was laughing at her. Was down right delighted. Sarah scowled a little. Given her a fright?

"Yeah…you can say that again," she said, with wide eyes that could not unsee. Oh, what horror, she thought. What kind of sick fuck decided it would be a good idea to give them removable visors?

"Well, you do have my condolences for that, Mistress," Merek said, holding back a chuckle. He waited for her to look over at him again before continuing. "The sentinels are...machines in a sense. They are powered by magic and react only to a very specific threshold of stimuli. We've found things run more smoothly keeping the soldiers outside the walls."

Sarah stared at him confusedly.

"Why?"

"Removes the potential for fae error," he said, but unfortunately Sarah's expression was hardly assuaged. Merek bobbed his head as he mulled over his next words. "Sentient creatures have a certain capacity to...over react. Perhaps even inadvertently make a situation worse. The sentinels, however, are designed to be objective and to only react at the exact moment when they are needed," he explained. Sarah pursed her lips. Interesting logic...

"I see…" she said.

"Yes. It's a much more efficient system."

"So...why have soldiers at all then? Why not replace them all with sentinels?"

"As I said, they are powered by magic. A profound amount of magic, I must say. And they cannot stray too far from its source. Which, in this instance, is the castle," he said. Sarah nodded.

"Gotcha," she said, then shrugged. "Okay, so I guess I'll take some soldiers?" Hm...I hope that won't be awkward...having Hoggle peer out his window to find two fae soldiers knocking on his door...

"Thank you, Mistress," Merek said, then offered her his hand. "Please, let me escort you out."

Rather than accept his hand with her own, as was obviously his intention, Sarah instead gave him her basket. His brow twitched in response. It was an odd display of pride, but he grinned all the same.

He showed her the way to the main gate, and all the while she did her best to commit every corner and stairwell to memory. The hallways started looking familiar, those distant memories culminating at the massive metal door Ludo had once forced open.

She wondered how Merek intended to open it, and was promptly answered by the wave of his hand. The doors eased open at an aching pace, causing a low rumble to resonate through the stone walls surrounding them.

Merek placed a mannerly hand to her back and urged her across the threshold. As she entered the outside world, she noticed two fae soldiers standing guard on either side of the door.

"Miss Williams," Merek said, directing her attention at each of the guards. "I present you Private Tern and Private Varin."

The soldiers, looking rather unremarkable in matching armor and helmets, turned and bowed to them both in salute.

"Mistress," they both said. Sarah appraised them quickly, wondering where the hell these two (where any soldiers for that matter) were the day she'd run the labyrinth.

"Hello…"

"Your new directive is to escort the mistress throughout the city," Merek interjected, calling all their attention. "—to wherever she wishes, and bring her back here safely at a time of her choosing."

The soldiers glanced at one another and then back at Merek.

"Yes, Captain."

Merek turned and offered Sarah's basket back to her.

"There," he said, and placed a hand to his hip while tisking a finger at her. "Don't forget, if you're ever in danger, all you have to do is call out our names."

"Your names?" Sarah repeated.

"Yes, mine and Lord Leche's. I understand you know his?"

Sarah's look became a little disconcerted.

"Yeah... So...Merek is your real name?" she asked. This was confusing. Hadn't Lochlan said military officials were given fake names?

"It is one that will suit this purpose, at least," he replied —ominously. Sarah's brow remained twisted.

"Okay…" and she turned away to face the city. Despite her confusion and everything she'd since learned about this place, it looked exactly the same. The recognition was comforting. She glanced back at Merek with a polite smile. "I'll...see you at dinner then?"

"If you will. You are, however, welcome to stay out as long as you'd like." He stared her straight in the eye as he said that, and then spared a glance towards his subordinates. That split second flicker seemed to convey some dialogue, though Sarah had no idea what.

The soldiers on either side of her bowed to him, and he in turn dipped his head to her before turning around and reentering the castle.

Sarah stood awkwardly as the boom of the mighty doors closing shut sent a little gust of wind over the three of them. She gripped her basket with both hands as she peered up at her escorts.

"So um...I have an address," she said and handed one of them (she'd already forgotten who was who) the slip of paper. "Do either of you know where this is?"

The soldier who accepted the paper (whom she would internally dub Varin) read over it quickly and then nodded.

"Yes. It's not far from the capitol square. It will be about a...ten minute walk."

"Oh, wow. Really? Awesome," she said, perking up on her toes. The soldiers stared at her skeptically without response, which caused an awkward strain to form in her smile. Her eyes darted and she gestured with her hand in the direction of the city. "So ah...Lead the way?"

---

Sarah stared with a wayward gaze as she walked through the streets of the Goblin City, reliving scenes of chaos and cacophony between the strides of calm, unsuspecting folk. Her escorts kept her tightly wedged between them, so it was kind of awkward to try and get a good look at anything, but the sounds and the smell and the gander she was given were more than enough.

It was quiet. Much like back then (before Jareth sent his guards after her). The streets were surprisingly empty —the goblins she did cross paths with carrying on with everyday tasks: a conversation, a laugh, a walk hand in hand. It was all so tiny and quaint, nothing like the free for all Merek had described.

The soldiers were also quiet and did not seem to have any intention of breaking from it. Sarah kept glancing up at them, fighting off the nagging voice of curiosity at the consistent sight of their stern and forward facing profiles.

Eventually though, the voice won.

"So...do you two always guard the gates?" she asked. That seemed like a decent ice breaker. Better than a quip about the weather, at least. It was Private Varin who responded.

"Not always," he said. Sarah pursed her lips.

"Hm. Does someone always guard the gates?" She looked over at Private Tern next. He shot her a glance from his peripheral.

"Not always."

Sarah frowned.

"Oh."

Well geez, these two were regular monkeys in a barrel, weren't they? And here she thought Jareth was aloof.

"Why do you only patrol the coast and the labyrinth's exterior? Why not the city or its interior?" she asked. That comment from Merek didn't quite make sense to her. If anything, weren't highly populated or dangerous areas the ones that needed the most surveillance?

"Those areas are managed by the goblins," Varin answered. "Whatever goes on among them is none of our concern."

A pair of narrowing eyes joined her pouty lips as she peered up at Varin in scrutiny.

"So...I'm guessing there isn't much interaction between the two species then?" she asked. That seemed doubly odd. From her perception, Jareth, at the least, seemed to have a solid repertoire with the people. But why only him? There were goblins working as servants of course, but...

"Certain denizens are allowed to service the castle. I'm sure you've seen a few of them," said Varin.

Sarah glanced down to watch her basket bounce off her knees as she walked, then hummed in contemplation.

"...His Highness seems to interact with them," she murmured. Both guards were silent. She glanced back up and looked between the two of them. "Why are only certain ones allowed in the castle? Is there a certain criteria or…?"

"Yes," answered Tern. "Not all of them have...earned the privilege."

Privilege. Hm. Why did that sound ominous? Sarah peered slyly upward at Tern with suspicion as she mulled over the possibilities, but only ended up confused.

She was about to ask another question when Varin came to a stop. He gestured at the building out in front of him, which Sarah glanced over at reflexively.

"This should be the residence you're looking for," he said. "Would you like us to enter first?"

Sarah blinked, looking sharply from Varin, to the house, and back again. Oh snap. They were here? This was Hoggle's house? Why the heck was she suddenly nervous?

"What?" she asked, then blinked back her senses. "Oh. Um. No. Actually….please don't think this rude, but would you both mind just...hanging out here for a bit?" she asked, her mouth curling in a wince as she looked between the two of them. "I don't want to alarm them by showing up with soldiers."

Varin and Tern looked at one another, passing along a string of dialogue perfectly discernable by their bewildered expressions. After that brief moment, they looked back at her and bowed their heads.

"As you wish, Mistress."

"Thanks," Sarah said, staring at them with lingering awkwardness as they each took a few steps back to loiter in the street. Sarah felt the urge to apologize, but remembered they'd been standing alone at the castle gates beforehand, so...this was probably an improvement.

She inhaled sharply as she turned around, putting on her best friendly face as she reached out and knocked on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She waited a few seconds...then a few more...then knocked again.

Again, there was nothing. Sarah felt herself deflating as she considered the possibility that no one was home. It was the middle of the day. Hoggle had a job in pest control. She supposed it made perfect sense for him to be out—

For good measure, she decided to knock one more time.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"What's with all the banging?!" she suddenly heard, the muffled and extremely riled voice of a certain dwarf resonating from beyond the door. Sarah felt her excitement flare up instantly. "Just gimme a second, will ya?! I'm comin, I'm comin!"

She started to laugh as his voice grew louder, as she heard annoyed huffs and puffs and some mystery object being pushed out of the way. All these years, they had always come to her. She'd heard stories of their homes and their lives, but still wondered what it would all actually look like beyond this little door.

The doorknob twisted open with a squeal and was then pulled back abruptly.

Their eyes met. His expression, once puffed up in preparation to scream no doubt, dropped into a gape as his eyes widened. He drew back from the door and just blinked at her.

He struggled to speak, his mouth opening and closing in a futile effort.

"S-s-"

Sarah felt her smile widen to the edges of her face as feelings of relief and utter joy took hold.

"Hey Hoggle," she said and waved.

---

She didn't get the chance to say anything else. In a panic, Hoggle reached out and yanked her inside before loudly slamming the door shut. Sarah, lucky she'd bent over just in time to avoid smacking her head on the doorway, turned around to see him hastily closing the curtains and battening down the hatches.

"Um, Hoggle?"

"Shhhh!" he said, continuing to look all around in a fright. "Someone might hear you! Keep your head down."

He waved her off and peaked out the nearest window. No doubt he'd just gotten a glimpse of Merek's soldiers. She should probably say something—

"Dammit. There's guards here, too. Are they lookin for ya? Oh Gods…"

His voice turned a little queasy as he looked away from the window and pressed a hand to his forehead. Be it in bad taste, Sarah couldn't help but laugh.

Hoggle glared straight at her.

"And what are you laughing for, missy? What are you even doing here?! Don't you know where you are?!"

Doing her best to stifle her grin, Sarah found a dining table to the side of her and set down her basket. Hoggle watched her warily, confounded by the calmness of her actions.

"Yes, I know exactly where I am, Hoggle. Please, calm down. Why don't we sit? I'll explain everything."

Hoggle hesitated, looking up into the rafters like there might be spies there. After a moment, Sarah took the initiative and sat in the nearest chair, then gestured for him to join her. She saw his jaw clench nervously as he complied, seeming to walk on pins and needles as he quietly sat down at the table across from her.

"Sarah I...I don't get this. Why are you here? We haven't seen you in so long. We thought —well, we didn't know what to think."

He looked so worried. So fearful. Sarah felt her brow turn down as she regarded him.

"I know. I'm sorry. I should have kept in touch, but...things just got...complicated." She looked away from him with a tight expression at the end, clutching her hands in her lap in a show of insecurity. Hoggle recognized that look. He felt his panic fade, if only for a moment, as he frowned in kind.

"With your dad, you mean?"

Sarah glanced back sharply, then down into her lap.

"Yeah."

"You told us he was sick the last we saw you. Did somethin happen?"

Sarah watched her hands wring before closing her eyes to compose herself.

"Yes...he got worse," she said and looked back up at him. "A lot worse. We all thought he wasn't going to make it. For a while I kind of just...closed down. I know you all must have been worried about me. I'm sorry."

He held her stare and, in the brief silence, she thought maybe he was upset with her. However, the way he sighed through his nose gave her a feeling of relief. His brow softened, and he tilted his head to the side.

"You ain't got nothin to apologize for," he said with a much calmer tone. "I'm more concerned with why it is you're showin up at my house with a frickin picnic basket like you ain't being tailed by faerie soldiers in another damn dimension." —Now that response was berating. Sarah gave an amused huff as she glanced at her lap again, then took a deep breath.

"Yeah...you don't need to worry about those soldiers. But, before I get into all that, do you know where Ludo and Didymus are? I'd like them to be here as well."

Hoggle crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

"I sent Ludo to the market to grab somethin for dinner. He should be back any minute. Didymus stands guard at the north entrance to the labyrinth now. It ain't far. We can go get him if ya want."

He shrugged like it was no big deal, which caught Sarah visibly off guard. She sat up a little straighter and blinked. Oh. Well that was easy.

"Well, actually, let me take care of that. Those soldiers outside? I actually brought them with me. I'm sure they won't mind going to get Didymus."

She stood and walked towards the door without sparing a single glance to the look of abhorrence twisting Hoggle's face. He stared after her unblinking, in total shock it seemed.

"Y-you brought them?" he asked, then lurched to his feet. "What'd ya mean, you brought them?"

His question was ignored as she opened the door and entered the outside world, going straight to the soldiers in question with total confidence. He watched her voice her request, and with a pleasant smile at that, then was drawn in by even more disbelief when the two fae nodded while one went on his way. Sarah turned back around and carried on like all was right in the world. Hoggle thought he may have just lost ten years off his life.

Sarah did her best to keep Hoggle calm during the interlude, thankful that, only after a couple of minutes, Ludo returned from the market. His sheer exuberance to see her provided plenty of distraction —she really did not want to have to tell this story twice, after all. A few minutes after that, there came the polite knock of Sir Didymus at the door. He looked totally bewildered, his reaction upon seeing her a near perfect reflection of Hoggle's. She played it all off with grace, urging them to quiet down and sit so she could get this over with.

"Sarah! Sarah back!" Ludo kept saying with such delight. Hoggle had apparently installed a door large enough for him to fit in, so, thankfully, he was able to join them in the house. They were all gathered around the dining table, Ludo's incessant excitement knocking over a couple chairs and some odd decorations that Hoggle had hanging on the wall.

"Yes, yes. I'm back. It's okay. Calm down, Ludo," Sarah said, patting him gently and urging him to still. As he finally quieted down, Sir Didymus jabbed his scepter to the floor and sat back in his seat.

"I say, what a shock. To see you here? In this of all places, my lady? Truly, I am…"

"Shocked?" Sarah finished, glancing back over her shoulder with a grin. Didymus's bemusement endured.

"Well, yes."

Sarah laughed. This felt like old times. Natural. Comforting. She shook her head as she took her own seat.

"Yeah, you're not the only one," she replied.

"But are you well, fair maiden? How did you come to be here? Why did soldiers from the castle bring me to you? Are you on another quest?" he asked, his voice gaining passion with each question.

"No. No, it's nothing like that," she said, and looked between the three of them. "—and I'm fine. Really." They each stared at her skeptically, even Ludo. Sarah sighed as she reached into her basket. "Please, why don't we all take a moment to calm down and eat, and then we can talk." And then she pulled out a pale, sweet scented triangle and turned it back and forth like some lewd temptation. "Look —I even brought your favorite."

Food, it seemed, had been a smart choice on her part. The subtle smell of strawberries and peanut butter was enough to cut through, at the very least, Ludo's troubled mind. Thanks to him, Didymus and Hoggle let down their guard soon after. She gave them all a moment to relax, and then recounted her tale.

She started at the last time she'd seen them, and ended with her proposal to Jareth...

"Well, you've certainly had yourself a grand adventure, now haven't you?" Didymus said, huffing in awe and maybe even a little tidbit of disappointment. "To think you trekked through the Erewhon forest and crossed the dead sea to get here...and all without us."

"It wasn't exactly an adventure," Sarah replied. "Pretty straight forward, actually. Nothing like what we went through."

"And now you're stuck here? For good?" Hoggle asked. As opposed to Didymus, he sounded nothing less than disappointed. He was still worrying for her, she could tell by the knit in his brows. She looked over at him and tried her best to look strong.

"Hopefully it's for good. It would kind of suck for things to turn out bad," she said. Hoggle glanced away then, and she caught the movement of Didymus glancing back at him. And, actually, even Ludo seemed privy to that moment the dialogue. There was a veil of concern hovering over them —Sarah had to console herself by telling herself it was to be expected.

"And you're marryin him? Really?" Hoggle asked. Sarah's expression became a little stern.

"...yes."

There was silence.

"Are you sure this is the fate you want, my lady?" Didymus asked. He shifted about in his seat, looking mildly uncomfortable. Sarah started to frown. "You must know, we will move hill and dale to get you home if you so wish it."

"I know you would Didymus, but it's alright," she said and spared a reassuring squeeze on Ludo's arm. "I told you, I ate the fruit. I can't leave even if I tried. And besides, it was worth it. My dad is getting better. He gets to be with Toby again."

"Yes, but…" Hoggle interjected. Sarah looked over to find him scowling into his lap. "—but now you have to be with him."

"Is that really such a bad thing?"

Hoggle glared up.

"It could be," he said, with a flare of passion. "He's no good, that king. I thought ya knew that."

"I've gotten to see him a little since coming here. I don't think he's all that bad anymore," she retorted. Hoggle didn't reply, only stared at her with confoundment and a tight jaw. Sarah looked from him, to Didymus, to Ludo. "Do you guys think I should be worried?"

The awkwardness that spanned across that table was in equal strength to that of her fae companions. Sarah tapped a finger against her leg as she pondered their potential insight. The castle staff had certain rules to operate by, but...maybe her friends were different?

"You can tell me," she said calmly. "Actually, I'd really appreciate it if you told me."

That familiar silence endured for a few more seconds, all three of them turning their eyes away from her. In the end, it was Sir Didymus who spoke up.

"His Majesty has...quite a reputation, my lady."

Sarah tilted her head.

"How so?"

"Well, he's mean, for one," said Hoggle. "—And rude. And bossy. He don't care about nothin and no one." He thrashed his arm out and shook his head in disapproval. Sarah quirked a brow at him.

"Anything else?"

"What'd ya mean, anything else?" he asked, turning that angry look up at her. "You ran that labyrinth. You know what he puts innocent humans like you through. He's a wicked cad and a cheat. No good rat—"

"His soldiers are stationed right outside, you know," she interrupted him, her cheeky nature unable to resist. Hoggle shut up mid-sentence and changed directions.

"I just don't like him," he said and crossed his arms tightly. "He ain't no good for ya, Sarah. No good at all."

"That has yet to be determined," she said, fully anticipating and fully over their combined looks of shock. She sighed as she packed up their lunch basket. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Hoggle. I made the decision to give up my life in the Aboveground and marry him. So, it seems like the best bet for me having a decent future is to try to make the best of that situation —make the best of it with him, you know?" She presented her argument plainly without making eye contact. Hoggle's eyes, once seared to her face, gradually lowered in dispassion.

"Yeah, I guess," he said, having no counter argument. He glanced over at Didymus to receive a look of sympathy. "But I still don't like it. What if he does somethin? What if he gets all scary like he does and hurts ya?" he asked. Sarah paused.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Once more, that insufferable silence was her answer. Sarah closed the lid to the basket and looked between the lot of them intently.

"Hoggle? Didymus?"

She watched them squirm. Watched them struggle to find the conviction to say whatever it was she so desperately wanted to hear. Then, with a gruff noise, Hoggle spoke up again.

"He's got somethin in him. Somethin nasty. It scares most of us, but...the mongrels actually love him for it. Feedin the crazy, I guess. I just...don't want nothin to happen to ya," he said, staring at the edge of the table with his biceps firmly gripped. Sarah felt her brow furrowing—

"Yes. I cannot say I am not worried. T'would break our hearts, fair maiden," added Didymus. Sarah looked over at him, and then at Ludo who nodded in agreement. Her tangle of intrigue and impatience smothered itself then, as she acknowledged that, no matter the reason, they would always worry for her.

"I'll be careful. Alright? That's the best I can offer," she said with a sympathetic shrug. In the end, there was nothing for it. Their admittance didn't add anything new to her profile on Jareth, but the sentiment was sincere. Maybe...she should ask them more directly. "Do you...know anything more about that? About what happens when he gets...scary?" They all looked at her confusedly. "I was told he came here to research something. Do you know what?" Again, they were silent, but now the consensus was no. Sarah pursed her lips. Hm. "Do you know anything about what goes on in the castle? Anything about what he's up to, at all?"

"Besides bossing us around? Not really," said Hoggle. "He keeps himself holed up most of the time. Only really comes down to mess with us or a runner. More of a bully than a king, if you ask me."

Sarah frowned. That was...very close to her initial perception of him. The way he'd tormented her and his subjects —it was like they were toys. And the state of the castle and the city...it was like he just didn't care. Despite him being the villain in this scenario, she couldn't help but find something...very sad about that.

---

It was a little past six when she finally returned to the castle. Daylight was waning, casting a shade of golden light over the city. She was hesitant to leave her friends, but consoled them all with the promise that she would see them again soon.

They were excited of course —if not wary. The subtle tension she regarded on their brows as she departed left her with a feeling of warmth in her chest. It was nice having their support and their concern...she hadn't realized how much she needed it.

The soldiers escorted her back to the castle in silence, then bowed and left her at the door. Sarah gave them a wave and thanked them for their service, and went on her way.

Entering the castle from the main gate triggered a flow of memories once again, compelling her curiosity to relive that time. It was so much more lively back then. So loud. Riotous. Ridiculous. The way echoes of the past traipsed so easily throughout these now empty halls saddened her, leaving her to wonder why things had changed —if they had changed.

Perhaps her memory has been idealized. Maybe the castle had always been this idle. Maybe her adventure here really was just an unexpected treat.

Did she still remember the way to the throne room? she wondered. Would it look any different after five years?

She pondered which stairwell would take her to it, and then wondered if going on another adventure was wise. Lochlan had asked her to avoid Jareth today...she genuinely didn't think he would do that lightly.

But, whatever was going on, it couldn't be that bad, right? If she was considered safe enough with a magical automaton for a shield? Granted, she had no idea how powerful these things really were...

After a moment of debate, she decided it was probably best not to push her luck and just head straight back for her room. She was a little dusty and wanted to wash up anyway.

She singled out a sentinel and issued her command, and together they walked in silence. For several minutes she just stared at the floor, her eyes vacantly tracing the creases between the floor stones as they moved under foot. The wicker tendrils weaving her basket creaked with the sway of each step —the only sound to be heard all the while.

She was zoning out when the sentinel in front of her suddenly stopped dead. She looked around and recognized that they were not yet in her designated wing of the castle, then drew her brow in confusion. It didn't say anything to her. Only stood there obstructing her view.

She took a step around it to see whatever it was that had impeded them.

And then she froze. Then there was a little hitch in her breath. She gripped the handle of her basket tighter on instinct, though immediately cursed herself for doing so. Was that really her reaction? Fear? No. No, she refused.

She relaxed her grip, along with her tense shoulders, as she stared down at Jareth sitting against the wall just a few paces ahead.

He was on the floor, huddled into himself with his knees bent and his head lowered between them. A black cloak blanketed him almost entirely, entrapping him in a darkness that reflected the grim aura she felt radiating from him. She stared at him in silence as she waited for something to happen. Ten seconds. Twenty. But, strangely...he did not move. He did not speak. Did not look to even be breathing, let alone show the capacity to notice her.

She felt very wary during that silence, entertaining the idea of turning sharply on her heel and finding another way around. So much for chains, she thought, and felt an instinctive urge to call out for Lochlan—

And then she cursed herself again. Those were not her thoughts. That was not her fear. She swallowed down the nerves Lochlan and her friends had incepted and debated her course of action. She couldn't see his face, but his arms were crossed over his knees which drew her eye to his hands as they curled in tight fists.

He looked bothered. Upset even. In a mood.

She walked towards him with light steps, staring down with a look of sympathy.

"Hey," she said. He was silent. Sarah waited a beat and then tried again. "Why are you out here all alone?"

But again she was met with silence. Sarah frowned. There was absolutely no movement in him whatsoever. For a moment, she really did wonder if he'd stopped breathing.

"What's wrong?"

She hoped the compassion in her tone would elicit some response; but, of course, he gave her nothing. As her frown deepened even more, she sat her basket down and took a seat on the floor beside him.

She didn't bother asking him any more questions. She only sat there, staring out at the wall across from them. A few minutes past, and then Jareth's head slowly turned.

She caught sight of a shadowed eye from her peripheral, but pretended not to notice, and heard the leather of his gloves crinkle as his fists readjusted. Well...at least he wasn't dead.

"Why are you here?" he asked with a very low, downtrodden tone. Sarah's brow twitched in reaction to it, though she tried her best not to show him another frown.

"I live here now, remember?"

She kept herself aloof but pleasant, a veneer she feigned easily as she drew up her knees close to her chest and hugged them, then rested her cheek atop them to turn and look over.

She held her poker face well at what she saw —a single eye, bloodshot, with an iris unnaturally vibrant, glaring straight at her.

"You should leave," he said and did not blink. Sarah felt her brow starting to knit. There's something in him, Hoggle's voice echoed.

"But...you haven't answered any of my questions," she replied, some of her true concern showing through in the subtle pouting of her lips. Jareth's attention immediately focused on them, on the soft, round, delicate flesh…

A tremor coursed through his wrist as his fist tightened even more.

"I don't answer to you," he said, rather harshly, and turned his head away.

This time Sarah did reveal a frown. Maybe playing blissfully ignorant was the wrong thing to do. Hm… Her eyes lowered to the space between them as she thought —and then she did something quite daring.

She reached out and placed a hand over his fist, gently coaxing it to relax. Jareth glared over at her sharply in reaction to the physical contact, but did not immediately retaliate. Sarah did not seem startled by this. In fact, her head was already tilted in curiosity —her eyes on him worried and expectant. He was caught off guard by such a look. Caught off guard and alarmed and—

He felt the beating of his own heart, within that split second, escalate to the point of pain as his stare bore through her.

Sarah took her time, moved slowly, calmly —like she was gentling something feral. According to the opinions of those around her, that probably wasn't far from the truth. Her eyes inspected his face, finally revealed to her by that impulsive reaction of his, and saw that the markings around his eyes were a fierce black that had begun to stretch down the length of it. She remembered seeing them like that once before —after she'd slapped him. Her frown deepened as she pulled her hand away.

"You don't have to answer me," she said very softly, then angled a brow at him. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop asking questions."

She gave him her sweetest smile and sat upright. She wouldn't admit it, but the way he'd snapped to attention so quickly from a mere touch had her worrying again. Whatever was going on, she definitely didn't want to trigger something worse. Hm...listen to herself. Maybe Lochlan was right.

But no. He couldn't be. Lochlan and his ominous paranoia couldn't possibly be right, because the harder Sarah tried to maintain eye contact with Jareth, the harder he tried to remove the sight of himself from her completely. The look in his eye was intense but guarded, and the hunch in his shoulders only worsened until he was able to finally break free and turn himself away —like her eyes on him alone were tantamount to shackles. His hands unfisted and slowly moved up into his hair, holding his head in place as he stared, vacantly, straight ahead. And it was like...like he was ashamed. Ashamed she should see him like that...

"Are you sick?" Sarah asked. Jareth's fingers flexed into his scalp, then he slowly peered out his peripheral. She blinked and leaned forward a little, trying to get a better look at him. "You look pretty rough," she added, then tilted her head. "Does your head hurt?"

If he were capable of it, Jareth would have laughed just then. But, as it were, it was all he could do to keep his teeth from grinding.

"Yes," he bit out.

His eyes, turned sharply to the side to watch her, fixated on those delicate lips once again as she hummed with a frown. After a moment, she sat back against the wall and turned away from him.

Curiosity compelled him to lower his guard, physically so by lowering his hands as he turned his head towards her. She was rummaging through a basket. Jareth's brow furrowed very tightly when she suddenly turned back around with a brightened, victorious grin.

She raised her hand to offer him something, but his tunnel vision on her face rendered the object a blur.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. Jareth stared at her fiercely and in silence. "A lot of times, eating helps my headaches go away," she explained, seemingly impervious to his abrasive state, and gestured down at the half a sandwich she held. Jareth's eyes flickered down and up again. "So?"

She stared at him unabashedly. Without fear, or trepidation, or pretense. And...she smiled. She smiled at him like the sight of his face was not the most horrible thing she had ever witnessed, like it was not disgusting, or abominable, or terrifying, or wrong. She stared at him in earnest and, for a very brief moment, he no longer felt like all of those things…

The voice screaming in the back of his head withdrew and fell silent, and, in the vacuum her patience provided, he regained the capacity to think.

What the fuck did she just ask him? Was she serious? Did she have any idea how much danger she was in?

Compelled by forces completely foreign to him, Jareth —with a shred of lucidity— achingly leaned himself back against the wall. He lowered his eyes and, tentatively, reached out to accept her offer.

The leg closest to her straightened to the floor, and he turned to look down at the morsel like it was something he'd never encountered before. Sarah watched him study it. Watched his eyes twitch as if struggling to focus —the harsh lines etching down his cheek squirming in a failed effort to retract. She felt very worried for him now. She'd been suspecting there was a connection between those marks and his mood for some time. It seemed she was right.

She waited and analyzed him in silence as they slowly ate together. Truth be hold, she was not hungry at all, but it was important he not feel put on the spot. He did not say anything to her. Did not even cast her a glance. He only stared downward at nothing.

After their snack was finished, Sarah counted to thirty before speaking. He looked a little calmer now. The blue in his eye not as bright.

"Feel any better?" she asked.

He scowled a little, remaining in profile as he stared down at his empty hands.

"A bit," he said, quietly.

Sarah exhaled. She was relieved. He sounded more like himself.

"What were you doing out here?" she asked. Jareth brushed a crumb from his glove, and frowned.

"...meditating."

And now Sarah frowned. That sounded derisive. His expression just then wasn't very nice either. She was skeptical about it, but then remembered that was the same answer he'd given her the day before. A few pieces started falling into place as she pondered: words like peaceful, quiet, and calm seeming to make a lot more sense.

"I think you might get better results sitting in a window," she said, calling back to the night she'd first arrived. Her tone was playful, was just enough to earn his attention. He glanced over to find her grinning at him. "—or on a rock...in the middle of a graveyard. But…" and she casually glanced all around. "I suppose a dimly lit corridor will do just as nicely, too."

There was a ghost of laughter under those words. Her effort to keep the mood light, no doubt. While Jareth knew this was an attempt to handle him, he was surprised to feel it actually worked. The weight holding him down lessened, and he...he wanted her to continue.

Sarah waited for a response, but it seemed like Jareth was now staring through her. She thought his markings may have lessened just a tad, but she couldn't be sure. After a moment, she stretched out her legs and looked down at her lap.

"Is it because of your research?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, but the question was loud. She wasn't the least bit surprised when he did not answer. However, curiosity got the better of her. She tentatively turned and slanted her eyes up at him. "I notice your eyes change…"

Their eyes were locked as she said that. The eyes that stared back still framed in black, and were so very blue and bright and cold and on fire.

The clawed marks creeping from his eyes painted him something sinister. Those marks wretched into the creases of his face when he suddenly grinned.

"Oh, have you now?" he asked, flippantly, and turned away from her. It seemed, in light of her persistence, he no longer cared to keep himself concealed. Instead he stretched his neck and pressed the back of his head against the wall, choosing to stare up at the ceiling as he took in a breath. Sarah watched him. She was relieved that he'd opened up a little, but this was hardly better. It was like he was winded. Barely hanging on. Like each slow blink took him more effort than she could possibly imagine.

"Yes," she said, regarding him carefully. "They're darkest when you're at your most...animated. Am I right?"

She was going out on a limb with this one, because presently he was the exact opposite of animated. She was, however, more insightful than that. Jareth had told her to leave when she'd first approached him. The wise part of her brain warned that she was merely wading within the eye of the storm.

"Yes," Jareth replied. He closed his eyes next and focused —though on what, Sarah was not privy to. He opened them just as he started to speak again. "They serve as a warning. For instance," and he lazily rolled his head towards her. "—you should not be anywhere near me right now."

Warning number two, the wise voice echoed.

But, because sometimes there were things more important than logic, Sarah held his gaze sternly and, with complete confidence said,

"I'm not afraid of you."

Oh —that look —those words —the highlight on her eye. Jareth regarded them all with something of reluctance and deprecation. She couldn't possibly mean that. She was frightfully naïve. Foolish. Stupid. He wanted to deride her but...couldn't. The only one he spared foul thoughts for was himself. He felt a thump in his chest again, bringing with it a heat that moved straight into his eyes—

Sarah arched a brow and leaned towards him, not at all concerned with the dwindling negative space between them.

"—especially when you look like you might pass out any minute," she tacked on for fun and grinned, resisting the natural urge to reach out and nudge him.

And again he paused. The thump stopped dead. When once her pout incited him, the image of her smile calmed. The look in his eyes softened for one brief moment, and the heat he'd felt building there...vanished.

Now competent enough to realize she was teasing him, Jareth huffed and glanced away.

"So...is that why you meditate?" Sarah asked. "Trying to wrangle in your, as you so put it, more unsavory nature?" This time, Jareth's reaction was instinctive and unguarded —a sharp side eye accompanied by a quirked brow. He looked a little alarmed, like he'd been caught. Sarah noted that insightful reaction duly. "Lochlan told me working with whatever it is you're working with affects you," she said, pressing the advantage. "That it's...taken a toll."

Yes, but what kind of toll? she wondered. What exactly was wrong with him? She didn't remember him being like this before, all those years ago. But, then again, how much time had she actually spent with him back then? The man she'd danced with...was he Jekyll or Hyde?

"Indeed," Jareth said, vaguely. Sarah frowned again. He seemed a little on edge now.

"Does it take a lot of energy? Whatever it is you're doing?"

Despite the red flags and dead ends, Sarah found no reason not to persevere. He seemed more comfortable talking with her now. That had to be a good thing.

Jareth went back to staring at the ceiling.

"Considerably."

Sarah stared. He'd closed his eyes. Now, instead of struggling to blink, it was like he struggled to keep them open. Every movement looked so heavy. She felt...sorry for him.

"Are you tired?" she asked. Jareth let out a shallow breath.

"Yes."

"Would...you like me to leave?"

She waited several seconds, gave him ample time to decide, which was why she found it curious when he said nothing at all. She saw his chest moving, taking slow, conscientious breaths. Sarah's frown gained a furrowed brow as she turned and reached for her basket once more.

She bent her legs under herself as she pulled out the blanket, folded it neatly on her lap, and then turned back to Jareth.

"Well, come on then."

Jareth opened an eye and peered down, his brow twisting in confusion.

"What?"

"Lay down," she clarified. Jareth did not move. Sarah rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you look like death and it's starting to bother me," she went on, then reached out and dared to touch him. She reached behind him to place a hand on each of his shoulders. It was instinctive of her, natural, and not at all regretted even when he noticeably tensed. She squeezed in response, gently coaxing him to obey. She'd brought her face closer to his in the process, playing up the intimacy by looking him straight in the eye and softening the tone of her voice as she said, "Rest for a bit. I don't mind."

Jareth stared at her with a look of bemusement, completely oblivious to the way his body was already leaning towards her. He caught himself, however, and tried his best glare.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. Sarah's hands tightened around his shoulders, and she scowled.

"Why not?"

She held his stare confidently and calmly. He was weighing its sincerity when he caught a whiff of her scent: something floral, sweet and earthy, like she'd been outdoors. Her arms were still around him —holding him in an insistent (and oddly possessive) embrace. He had no idea why...it felt so welcoming.

"I get the feeling the people here aren't particularly generous towards you," Sarah said, her look on him softening as one of her hands moved from his far shoulder to his back. "But...I'm not them." And then she tugged on him. "—so stop your griping and just lay your head down."

Jareth stared at her unblinking as if her words were a profanity he'd never heard before. He hesitated, so thoroughly filled with suspicion that Sarah was honestly starting to feel sad. She never expected to see such a look on him. A look of sheer insecurity and doubt. Her arms, in a gesture of comfort, tightened around his shoulders and urged him down again. He had no idea why he listened.

His eyes lowered as he laid himself on her lap. As he allowed her to guide him and pet him like a child. At first, her audacity frightened him. She had no idea what she was doing. He had no idea what he would do. And her touch...

He let his head rest against the blanket covering her thighs, feeling far too aware of the hand she kept on his shoulder. After a moment that hand moved. It caressed his arm up and down.

He felt himself go rigid against it, but surprisingly the movement was not triggering. It...it pacified him. He felt the tide recede. Felt the pressure behind his eyes lessen. Felt the voice in his head, which had been gaining new fervor as she continued to touch him, fall to mere mumbles once more. He stared out at the wall, but he saw nothing. He felt nothing. He was pleasantly hollow, slow to be filled with the comfort of the blanket against his cheek and the warmth in her hand.

Sarah stared down as she waited for him to relax. She didn't really blame his skepticism. She got the feeling Jareth was a man of pride, and this was not exactly a dignifying position for a king (or prince) to be in. Still, he humored her. He complied. This supposedly scary, nasty thing…

She turned and glanced down the length of his body, then reached over and pulled on his cape, draping it over him like a blanket. He was hiding in it when she'd first seen him, so maybe it would help. She wondered then, with great sadness, why —even in solitude— he felt so ashamed.

The gesture seemed to work and bring him ease. A sense of security. She felt him relax a little.

It was her instinct to pet him, but she resisted. He had flinched every time she touched him, so she wasn't sure whether or not that kind of contact was helpful. But that was okay. She'd been through enough heartache to know that, sometimes, just being there was enough.

"It's okay, Jareth," she said, speaking calmly. "I'm not going anywhere."

She caught the movement of his brow drawing tight but little else. His profile was mostly obscured by hair and out of her view. She didn't see the way his jaw tightened as he stared at the wall. Didn't see the ambivalence that warred across his eyes. He looked almost in pain as he reached out, so tentatively, to place his hand over her leg.

He held it there, with the lightest pressure, as if it was an act he knew he would immediately regret. As if he expected her to recoil from him and run —or worse, shatter. A moment passed. And then two. And...she didn't.

She didn't make a sound, or a move, or do anything at all. She only sat there, breathing slowly with the greatest of ease.

He felt his fingers start to curl as tension built. As he stared, more and more fiercely, at the wall. Something was welling deep inside, something that had his breath quickening and his jaw clenching. The voice inside came back —whispering just shy of his ear. It told him to squeeze. To claw. To slam her against the stone, yank apart her legs, and smother her face with the blanket—

And then something jarred him. Shattered him. Ripped into him so completely a violent shiver threatened to shoot down his spine. He fought it off and stilled instantly, the void he'd been losing to once again replaced by the pattern of the wall. He came back to the world, and that feeling...that merciless, horrible, gut-wrenching, sanctifying feeling...was her touch. A single fingertip...trailing through his hair. It moved slowly. Gently. He felt it reach up and pull back his bangs. Uncover his face. And...he couldn't move. Couldn't stop it. He did not want to stop it. That slight touch...so gentle, and kind. It was a singular point of contact that was so miniscule, so innocent, arbitrary, and insignificant…

The beat of his heart settled as she did it again, adding another fingertip, combing across his scalp in a way that seized every fiber of his being. It was all he could think about. All that he could feel. It was overwhelming, suffocating...liberating.

His hand on her thigh relaxed. His breathing fell into a silent rhythm. He closed his eyes and let her be. The voice and the darkness there...were no longer frightening.

Sarah smiled down at Jareth as she lightly stroked his hair. It seemed like laying there was only making him more tense, and she worried that being so self-conscious was maybe making his headache worse. She was hesitant at first, but...didn't know what else to do.

But...the way he reacted was reassuring. The way she'd been able to watch his eyes close as his body finally went lax was sweet. After a moment, she pulled back even more of his bangs to get a better look at him, and dared to trace the contour of those marks over his cheek. He did not react. That was good.

She watched as his breathing went shallow, and knew he'd fallen asleep. She leaned away from him but continued her fondling.

He was clearly exhausted. He'd fallen asleep virtually the moment he let his guard down. She couldn't imagine what had brought him to this state. If it was an effort of physical or mental labor. And it was magic that did this? Why? She wished she knew something, anything, about it. She wanted to help him. She didn't want...to see him like this again.

She sighed as she reflected on her circumstances, as she tried to understand whatever piece of this equation she was missing. Lochlan was serious about her avoiding Jareth today. Merek too. And yet...this was what they were afraid of? A man so drained he could barely keep himself upright?

She hated how alone he seemed —sitting there, dazed, guarded, and closed off. She'd been through turmoil. Perhaps not the same kind as whatever he was experiencing, but going through the ups and downs of her father's illness showed her that the last thing a person needed was to be left alone. To be avoided. To be judged.

She was suddenly angry at all of them for making him feel like he couldn't reach out. Making him feel like he unnerved them and it was better to just stay away. She had no idea why they were so afraid, but she wasn't. She wouldn't be. The only thing frightening was how much physical effort it had taken him to let himself reach out for her.

She closed her eyes as she meditated —using the silence to calm herself. She had no idea how much time passed, and neither did she care. She'd sit with him as long as it took. She'd spend the whole night there if she had to.

With this conviction, she glanced down at Jareth once again, giving in to lightly trace the edge of his ear. She saw the marks had started to fade. They were now a dark beige and were retracting back to their usual shape. That was good. Hopefully sleeping off these fits was an effective solution for him.

Her eyes turned wayward as she admired him. As she remarked, in silence, how nice it felt to be near—

Her head whipped up at the sound of footsteps and immediately landed on Lochlan.

He had just rounded a corner. Did not look to be paying any attention. This level of ignorance thus provoked him to stop dead with a look of utter shock when he looked up and saw her.

His mouth dropped open and he drew back, blinking repeatedly as he did several double takes. Thinking he was about to say something, Sarah pressed a finger to her lips and gave him a silent shush.

Lochlan paused. His mouth was still hanging open. He was clearly feeling dubious, but Sarah was not in the mood to deal with it. She gestured down at Jareth and then made a sleeping sign with her hands.

Lochlan angled his head and just...stood there, processing the scene it seemed. And then, with quick thinking, he raised a hand and drew in the air.

Some fancy, glowing script was left to hover in his wake, and it spelled out the words, "Are you alright?"

Sarah nodded and mouthed back, "Yes."

Lochlan pursed his lips. The script faded as he looked from her, to Jareth, and back again.

"Is he alright?" he wrote in next. Again Sarah nodded.

Lochlan let out a breath, one Sarah hadn't realized he'd been holding, and it was a expression of profound relief. Sarah stared at him with hard eyes. Oh, the conversation they were going to have the next time they met…

Lochlan, oblivious to her foul thoughts, seemed to be rejoicing over thoughts of his own as his aura and posture did a complete 180. He looked very happy now. Back to his usual self.

"I came to get you for dinner," he wrote. "Are you hungry?"

Sarah arched a brow.

"No. Go away," she mouthed, and shooed him with her hands. Lochlan nodded and stifled a chuckle.

His eyes slanted to Jareth one more time, some thought playing out very strongly behind his eyes, and then he grinned. He lowered his gaze, and made a gallant gesture with his hands as he bowed. Sarah watched him turn swiftly on his heel. He took a few steps, paused to give them one last look, and then —with a sneaky little smile— shook his head as he walked away.

---

Jareth opened his eyes gradually. The void faded, replaced with the pattern of cut blocks which formed the wall. He blinked at it a couple of times. That's right. He'd fallen asleep…

He closed his eyes and let himself linger. He felt warm. Safe. That didn't happen very often.

The threads of the blanket scratched his face, but it was a feeling he was reluctant to give up. It was still soft. Comforting.

Because she was soft and comforting.

Jareth's eyes opened again when he remembered that his pillow was not a pillow.

He shifted, but the effort was weak. His hand still laid lifelessly atop her thigh. As his eyes traced the silhouette of black leather, he watched his fingers squeeze.

And she was soft —delicate.

He shifted once more and felt the weight of her arm draped over his shoulder. Curiously, it too was lifeless. He wondered why she wasn't reacting.

He moved his hand to the floor and leaned up, and, as he did so, her arm slipped limply off of him.

She was asleep. Dead to the world, from the look of it. Jareth tilted his head as he inspected her face, eyes moving from her gently fanned lashes to the subtle part in her lips. Her head was angled down and to the side, her chest moving in slow, shallow breaths.

And she was beautiful. It was impossible to ignore. He felt his jaw tighten as he continued to stare, to draw in ever closer. She was so vulnerable right now…

He was an idiot for keeping her here, he told himself. An idiot for giving in to even one urge—

A lock of hair fell over her face. He could not help but reach out to brush it away.

The feeling of his thumb against her cheek stirred her, but he was able to withdraw before she noticed it. Her eyebrows knitted in the center, and those distracting lips puckered in discomfort. He leaned away from her as she made a begrudged murmur before opening her eyes. They blinked quickly and then focused directly on him.

He was not prepared for how readily she smiled.

"Oh. Hey," she said and shifted about. Jareth leaned back a little more. She looked confused as she tried to orient herself. "Did...I fall asleep too?" she asked and glanced down the hall. "It got dark out. Guess I did. Huh."

She pushed her hair behind her ear and turned back to Jareth. He had no idea why he was still just staring.

He watched her eyes flicker all around his face, and then she smiled again.

"Your eyes look a lot better," she said and reached up to caress his cheek. "That's good."

Jareth tensed against the contact but did not move. Once again, he was queerly unable to do so. He merely watched her head tilt as the tips of her fingers traced over where the marks had once been.

Had anyone touched him like that? Ever?

"Can I assume this means the danger has passed?" she asked. Her voice was light. Playful. Not at all suited for the situation, Jareth thought. Still, it was a nice delusion. The way she looked at him, the way she touched him was...nice.

"Yes," he said, his eyes darting to her hand as it lowered from his face. Sarah took a deep breath.

"What a relief."

That statement lacked sentiment as her lips curled up in a smirk, but her arrogance did not offend him, nor did her ignorance worry him. He liked that look. He liked the trust it implied. He wanted to hang onto that —for as long as he could.

"Hm...we must have been sleeping for a while. It's gotta be well passed dinner time," she said to herself, turning to glance down the hallway once more. She started to fidget, so he moved back —his attention glued to her face as he stood with her.

She groaned as her stiff limbs were forced into action, arduously trying to straighten her knees before immediately plummeting back to the floor. Jareth lurched forward on instinct.

She gasped but was caught only a second later, her eyes quickly flickering to her hands which, in a panic, had gripped Jareth's forearms while he held her tightly under the shoulders.

Whatever bits of haze that remained from their slumber vanished instantly, replaced by a spike of adrenaline which Sarah prayed would not express itself as a blush.

He held her upright, her bent, lifeless legs hovering just over the floor. Sarah swallowed and looked away in as inconspicuous a manner as possible.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He was close to her. Real close. Sarah's hands flexed again.

"Yeah," she said in a high pitch. "I guess my legs must have fallen asleep...sorry."

She wasn't expecting that. Hadn't realized at all that her feet were little more than phantom limbs. God, this was embarrassing. What the fuck should she do? He was still holding onto her. Oh geez…

She tried to move and stand on her own, but, if not for Jareth's consistent grip, she would have fallen all over again.

"Wow, they're really gone, aren't they?" she asked. "Call a doctor. We might have to amputate." The self-deprecating strain in her smile was blatant, as that was probably the stupidest attempt at humor that had ever come out of her mouth —but it was entirely lost on Jareth. She watched his brow twitch as he drew back, apparently in alarm. Sarah blinked. "I'm kidding," she said quickly, deadpan. Jareth's expression hardened on her. Sarah was forced to look away.

"Could you maybe uh...just hold me here for a minute?" she asked. "I'm sure the feeling will come back soon." and she patted his forearm in a friendly, totally-not-self-conscious-at-all manner.

She was staring to the right, dissecting the shadows between the vaults in the ceiling and pretending this wasn't an extremely awkward fucking moment. Jareth did not respond to her, although she could feel his eyes on her. A few seconds passed, maybe even a full minute, and then she gasped again when he suddenly reached down and swooped her up in his arms.

She peered sharply at him with wide, startled eyes to find him looking exceedingly frustrated. He growled a little before slanting his eyes down at her.

"I'm not particularly patient," he said, and turned to look ahead down the hall. "Where is your room?"

Sarah blanched. Oh, to be a specter of her own self. T'was this not a thing on which fairytales were made? Her tiny heart was near to burst as she tried to wrangle her shit together, because oh, how chivalrous a beast he could be.

She swallowed down her nerves, and her surprise, and her bashfulness, and everything fucking else as she lowered her head and pointed toward the other end of the hall.

"That way," she said, so meekly. Without noticing a hint of her swooning, Jareth turned around and walked.

Sarah stared at her hands knotting in her lap. Or rather, his hand, four fingers at least —whatever she could see of it curling up around the underside of her leg. His other arm was behind her back, his hand grasping her by the bicep. As they walked, as Sarah directed him around one corner and the next, she remarked just how effortlessly he was carrying her. Like she weighed nothing at all. She also remarked on how mannerly, perhaps even sterile, he was now behaving. He only spoke to ask her which turn or stairwell to take next, and never, not once, looked down at her.

Oddly enough, this combination of things hit more of her buttons than she cared to admit. Was he really that oblivious? Would it be too much to lean her head against his shoulder?

Before long, the feeling started to return to her legs —and they were not happy about it. The usual tingle turned to needles, turned into enraged knifes that stabbed her poor muscles relentlessly. She tried to ignore and endure the sensation at first, but…

She started to fidget in his hold, and he glanced down to see her wincing.

"Ah—" She made a noise of pain which compelled him to stop. His grip on her readjusted as she squirmed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just...the feeling's coming back in my legs. It hurts a little," she said through a tight jaw, trying to save face by playing it off with a smile. Jareth frowned as he watched her wince turn into a grimace. "Ow...ow ow ow ow ow—"

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

Was it normal for it to hurt so bad? Would it be better to move or keep still? Shit. She was about to ruin her weak damsel moment by actually being weak. At the rate she was writhing, he would probably set her down any moment. She berated herself internally. Endure, Sarah! Endure!

"Hang onto me."

Sarah's head whipped up.

"What?"

Jareth did not bother to entertain her display, nor respond to her pointless question. She felt his arm behind her back shift, and instinctively wrapped her hands around his neck and braced. His arm moved lower to cradle her by the lower back, holding her without any effort at all as the arm under her legs let go.

She watched, with cheeks flaming anew, as he yanked up the skirt of her dress until it exposed her knees —all the while she could not stop thinking of how he was holding her with one arm. How strong and manly and stoic he was.

They should start etching her gravestone now, she thought. God help her.

"Which leg is it?" he asked. Sarah blinked out of her daydreams and glanced down herself, minding to point her toes prettily.

"Um, both actually. But...the left one is worse."

She nibbled on her lip and stole a peak up at him. Thankfully, he was strictly business —staring very intently at her shins like he could see something within them. With a held breath, she watched him reach down and press two fingers to the top of her foot, then slowly dragged them upward.

She had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Not that it mattered. The only thing on her mind was how thankful she was to have bothered shaving her legs that day.

He brought the tips of his fingers to her knee, applied a gentle pressure, and then repeated the motion with the other leg. As he did this, Sarah noticed the pain quickly fade.

It was completely gone by the time he reached her other knee, life and function back in her custody once more. Sarah wiggled her toes in her shoes, regarding them with a look of awe as Jareth pulled her skirt back into place.

His arms went back to their original position —though Sarah was hesitant to release him.

"You made the pain go away? You can do that?" she asked. Jareth quirked a brow.

"It certainly seems that way, doesn't it?"

If he was making fun of her, it went over her head. She couldn't stop staring at her feet, turning her ankles about and marveling at how limber they felt.

"That's...amazing," she said.

Jareth, pulled in by the sense of wonder in her voice, glanced down at her.

"Not really," he replied dryly. His attention landed on the corner of her smile, on the crease it formed in her cheek. "It's actually...very rudimentary."

"That doesn't make it any less amazing," she replied. After a moment she felt his hands flex, and she realized that she no longer needed him as a crutch. She panicked a little as she stopped all her fiddling, fearful he may set her on her feet. She didn't want that.

But it seemed that tension was of her own design, for his grip soon settled and her nerves along with it. Sarah waded through a feeling of fleeting anticipation. Why was he still holding her? Was this something worth reading into? Should she say something? Yes? No? Shit.

Reluctantly, she ended up releasing the hold she had around his neck, then awkwardly pointed down the next hallway.

"So um...that way."

Another five minutes and they were at her room —leaving Sarah pretty damn pleased she'd been able to remember the way all by herself. But this was where things became tricky. Now she had no fucking clue what to do.

He was carrying her to her room —like a bride —to the place that housed her bed. They were alone and...nah, nah, nah, you just get your head out of the gutter right now, Miss Williams!

She swallowed as he reached out and opened the door for them. Then, without an invitation, stepped right on inside.

He set her down now, carefully, like she was still injured. She let her hands linger on him as he did so, then took a healthy step away.

"And...here we are," she said, shrugging her shoulders and glancing from left to right like a fucking loser. Goddammit. Why was she so aware of herself? Why did every quiet look from him seem to put her on the spot?

She chose to ignore her girlish insecurities and turned right around, walking away with confidence like she had a purpose in doing so. Jareth ignored her. Utterly. His attention was instead cast around the room as he took another step into it. Sarah glanced back with a bite on her lip.

The way he was looking around made her think this was something new to him, his expression cool and vacant. She wondered what exactly he was finding so interesting.

"So...you really didn't know where this was?" she asked.

"No," he replied. Sarah turned and glanced over at the door.

"Hm...where is your room? Is it close by?"

"No. My chambers are on the other side of the castle."

He paced slowly, keeping his arms concealed beneath his cape in a way that Sarah suspected was defensive. Like he was uncomfortable. Hm. So maybe he was feeling a little awkward too? Wouldn't that be something.

She slyly glanced at her bed, looming directly behind her now, and then back at him.

"Oh? Why am I so far away?"

She watched as he drifted towards the fresco on her wall, apparently too interested in it to bother responding. Sarah felt her arms crossing in reaction to his silence.

"Thank you, by the way," she went on. Jareth glanced over. "—for carrying me here, and for...you know, healing me." She did her best to remove all traces of nervousness from her posture, giving him a little smirk before glancing over at the clock. "Hm, it's not as late as I thought. Would you like to maybe...stay for a bit?"

Contrary to the screaming of her nerves, it seemed Sarah's mouth had schemes of its own. She had no idea where she'd gotten the courage to say that —let alone so naturally. Jareth had turned to stare at her now. His odd silence unsettled her.

"You did come all this way," she tacked on.

Jareth stared at her skeptically but did not respond, causing her to wonder if she were suddenly speaking in tongues. Was her offer ludicrous? But why would it be? Ugh. How freaking awkward...

With a flustered smile, Sarah turned away from him and walked over towards the door.

"We were out for the whole evening. Are you hungry?"

She'd just reached the rope and glanced back. Jareth was still staring at her, and then he finally spoke.

"Not particularly."

Well fuck.

"Humor me then," Sarah said, keeping her spirits light and totally unphased. "I had to miss dinner in order to be your pillow. I think that entitles me to cash in our raincheck." She stared at him challengingly, feeling a little more confident with the way his brows knitted together with apparent confusion. "Or are you suddenly busy now?" she asked, upping the stakes with a shrewdly cocked brow. He did not respond. She rang the rope. "I'm going to freshen up quick. Why don't you take off your cloak and make yourself comfortable? I'll be back in a minute."

She did not look at him this time, lest he be given the chance to protest. Instead, she turned on a dime and glided straight to her spa. Truth be told, there was nothing about her that needed freshening. She did, however, need a minute to regroup.

After a couple of deep breaths, a quick pat down, and a messy hair tussle, Sarah felt fit to resume her...whatever it was she was trying to accomplish by all this.

Stop over thinking it, she told herself. It's not like this is a date or anything. It's not like this has to mean anything at all. It's just...dinner. Easy peasy.

She closed her eyes and exhaled before passing the threshold back into her room. When she opened them, she spied him staring, very intently, at the mural on the wall. To her pleasure, he had taken off his cape, which gave her a very appraising view. His pants were black, his waistcoat a deep blue with a white poet shirt underneath. The curve of his spine at that angle prompted her inner voice to remark just what fine posture he had. But —but how dare he! How dare he stand there with complete nonchalance! She couldn't be the only one feeling anxious here. She refused.

Denying any and all thoughts of expectation that might be otherwise compromising, Sarah shook her head clear as she casually joined him at his side.

"It's pretty interesting, isn't it?" she said, stealing a glance up at him. "I find it kind of ominous...the way there are things hiding in the shadows. I wonder if those women know they're being watched." She looked away as she spoke, her gaze weaving between layers of carefully refined undergrowth to expose the mysteries therein.

Jareth's eyes slanted towards her without her realizing.

"They look rather unsuspecting, don't they?" he asked.

One of Sarah's brows arched.

"Yes, but looks can be deceiving," she replied, then pursed her lips in thought. "Maybe they're putting on a show for the shadows? Maybe it's a ruse. Maybe they are the predators, and the creatures being drawn in are their victims." Her brow turned down as she mused, her interpretation not one he was anticipating. He gave her more of his attention now, but hers was captured by the painting. "Perception is everything in art —that's what my professor says, anyway. There are certain connotations that come from the contrast of light and dark. Every decision made by the artist is a conscious one. But…" and her head tilted to one side. "—maybe deception is more of the point. Especially here, where nothing is as it seems and all that."

She turned and looked at him, her expression frank. There was a wrinkle in Jareth's brow.

"That's very insightful," he said —she cracked a wide grin.

"Or I'm just bullshitting," she said and shrugged. "It's all the same, really."

She looked away from him and back at the painting, and he watched her eyes flicker quickly between the details. For some reason, her intrigue...mattered.

"I'm surprised you've given it any thought at all," he said. Sarah looked over curiously.

"Why?"

He held her stare for a moment, and then shrugged as he looked away.

"I don't know. Perhaps because...no one's ever cared to."

Sarah frowned. He sounded a little dejected, hiding his hands in his pockets as he spoke.

"Have you seen this before?" she asked. Jareth's brow twitched as he stared outward vacantly.

"I'd hope so. I'm the one who painted it."

Sarah drew back in a look of surprise.

"What? Are you serious?" she asked, then looked over at the mural like she was seeing it all anew. Jareth observed this reaction discreetly. Her brow lifted high and she gaped. "You're incredible."

For reasons Jareth would not dignify by naming, he felt himself wince and look away.

Sarah turned towards him a second later, her eyes bright and wide.

"You could be famous in my world. Do you like art?" she asked. Jareth shrugged.

"Not...particularly," he said a bit stiffly. "It was a hobby. Something I haven't bothered with in...many years."

Sarah cocked a brow at him, but the rest of her expression was deadpan —humility only suited him so well.

"Hmph. Some hobby," she said and crossed her arms. "I've seen murals like this in a few other rooms. You painted those too?"

"Yes. There are many scattered throughout the castle," he replied, and this time turned his head in the complete opposite direction of her. "I took up painting when I first came here. It was very time consuming and required...focus."

His eye twitched on that last word, the sullen drop in tone enough to catch her attention. She tried her best to get a look at his expression, and just now realized he seemed a little uncomfortable. Wait, was he actually feeling...shy?

"Well, you're very talented," she said. Jareth did not react. "Why did you stop?"

He shrugged again.

"After a while the activity felt...pointless."

"So you lost passion then?"

Jareth's eyes flickered towards her, a reaction which she took advantage of by locking onto his stare. Hm? Had she caught him off guard?

Jareth hesitated before replying, "I suppose."

Sarah tried hard to stifle a grin, unsure of why she now felt so amused in the first place. She'd never seen this side of Jareth before either —uncalculated, uncertain, cute. It made her want to tease him. She did, however, have more tact than that.

But only a little.

"And card castles are somehow an upgrade from this?" she asked mockingly. Jareth's stern expression remained. Admitting defeat, she glanced down with a sad kind of smile. "That's too bad," she went on, pinching her fingers. "I always stop to admire those paintings when I find them. They're so beautiful and haunting. It's hard to look away. I'm sure the others feel that way, too."

Jareth's stare on her lingered, falling vacant on the relaxed curve of her brow as she mused over the brushstrokes. He nearly let his guard down when a little knock came at the door.

Both she and Jareth turned just as the door inched open.

"Good evening, Mistress," a goblin said —the same one who'd been bringing her breakfast. It entered the room and, in a simultaneous movement, twitched and stood rigid at the sight of Jareth beside her. "Oh. And...Your Majesty."

It bowed its head deeply and fisted its hands at its sides. Sarah ignored the tension there and took a step towards it.

"Hello. Are the kitchens still open?" she asked. The goblin straightened, darted its eyes to Jareth, and then focused its attention strictly on her.

"Y-yes."

"Great," Sarah replied, smiling happily as she gestured at Jareth. "His Majesty and I will take our dinner now, please."

The goblin stared skeptically, its mouth hanging open in confusion. A tick moved across its brow, and then it dipped its head in acknowledgement.

"Right away, Mistress," it said. Then, after another low bow, turned around swiftly and left.

Sarah turned to Jareth.

"Well? Shall we have a seat?"

That question was rhetorical, if not by her tone, then by the way she immediately went to take her place at the dining table just shy of them.

Jareth joined her without a word, seeming to keep his eyes averted from her in the process. Sarah tilted her head as she tried to figure out what was now making him feel awkward, then a very sobering thought emerged: if no one ever sees him, then how long has it been since he's sat down with another person like this? Had dinner with someone and just...talked?

She let her frown show through while he wasn't paying attention. But, by the time he finally settled in and looked over at her, she was all smiles.

"So...There's something I'm supposed to ask you," she said, trying to break the ice.

"Oh?"

"Yes. We're um...I guess we're having a garden party next week…" and her eyes rolled away. She sat stiffly in her seat and kept her hands in her lap, wondering why she felt so nervous again.

"We?" Jareth repeated.

"Yeah. The rest of the staff. It's kind of like a welcome party for me, I guess," she explained, slowly twirling her hand as she spoke. "I don't know. I think it sounds kind of primpy, but...would you like to come?"

Oh God. There it was. The reason she was feeling so anxious. Was she really asking him out right now? Is that what was happening? Why the fuck were all the relationship cues falling on her?!

Thankfully, the goblin returned with their meal trays before the butterflies in her stomach could simultaneously combust, so she used that minor break to get a hold of herself.

The goblin set a tray in front of each of them, along with a glass of wine, bowed, and wordlessly left again.

Sarah was focusing on laying her napkin over her lap when Jareth finally responded.

"That would be inadvisable," he said. Sarah glanced up.

"Why?"

Jareth paused. She had that unguarded, worried countenance again. He brushed off whatever queer reaction it spurred in him before tactfully lowering his gaze towards his plate.

"I told you before, my presence unsettles them. You would enjoy yourself more if I were not there," he stated plainly. Sarah's look shifted to disappointment as she watched him cut up his food.

"I disagree," she said, gripping her cutlery tighter when he reflexively looked over at her again. "I'm not inviting you because I think it would please them. I'm inviting you because it would please me." Her own boldness surprised her, which caused her to immediately bite down on the inside of her cheek. Jareth had locked eyes with her. She was feeling nervous all over again. "But...look, I'm not going to nag you," she quickly tangented, flickering her attention away from him and down at her plate. "It wouldn't be any fun unless you enjoy yourself, too." And she cut into her steak aggressively. "Just saying, I'd be happy if you came."

She kept her front a cool one, successfully conveying casualty while she ate. She even started to believe it —forgetting the fact that he was still staring at her.

"...why?" he inevitably asked. Sarah paused and lowered her fork from her mouth.

"Because I enjoy your company?" she replied —peering up just in time to watch his scrutiny steel.

He looked a little bothered now. Sarah placed her fork down on the table.

"Do you not resent me?" he asked.

Sarah's brow drew tight in the center.

"Why would I?" she countered. Jareth arched a brow.

"The circumstances of our acquaintance, to start."

And now she bit her lip, frowning down at her plate as she responded, "Jareth…I have nothing to be bitter about." Before he could retort, she glanced up sharply and held his gaze. "I'm not a dumb kid anymore. You were right. I asked for Toby to be taken, and you took him. I asked for him back, and you provided an opportunity for me when you didn't have to. You could have just kept him. And, when I did win, you kept up your end of the bargain and sent us both home."

Her expression softened as she spoke, shifting towards the guise of dispassion along the way.

"Lochlan explained the book to me, so I know —now— that I was the one who wrote it. I filled it with my own temptations. You didn't single me out, did you?" she asked. He did not reply, but the tether of their stares spoke for him. Sarah sighed as she pushed some of the food around her plate with her fork. "No one forced me to make that wish. I don't blame you for anything."

She thought that would be the end of it, and was thus surprised when he pushed the matter further.

"And now?"

Sarah paused.

"And now, what?" she repeated.

Jareth's jaw tightened as a ghost of frustration passed through him.

"Do you not resent me, now?" he clarified. Her returning expression was one of confusion. He tried his best not to scoff at it while glancing away. "You were very upset when I accepted your proposal. I took away your chance to go back home —and without any consideration for your feelings," he said with some snark.

"My feelings?" Sarah repeated —with offense. Jareth peered back over at her. She looked like she was about to scold him. "I came here fully aware of the consequences, Jareth," she affirmed. "I knew there was a fifty percent chance I wouldn't get to go home, and I accepted that possibility well before slapping your pretty face. Would I have preferred to have gone straight home? Yes. But...this arrangement will work. It's still worth it."

The level of conviction which kept her so perfectly poised did not make any sense to him. He stared at her dubiously before arching a brow.

"Still worth it? Hmph, It must have been some price they paid to be worth your future and freedom," he said derisively. Sarah called him out on it immediately.

"What's that? You almost sound curious," she said, arching a sharp brow right back at him. "I thought you didn't care about what got me here?"

She spoke haughtily. Looked haughty. Jareth found himself scowling on instinct.

"I said it didn't matter," he snapped. "...I never said I didn't care."

He looked down just then, which was just as well because it left him ignorant of the tick that shot through her. Her confident posture relaxed, and she stared at him without any idea of how to retort. She'd been messing around, but the tone of his voice had been dead serious…

When she tuned back in, she noticed he was now glaring at her.

"Well?"

Sarah licked her lips as her eyes turned to the side.

"My father was sick," she said, anxiously tapping along the table's edge. "—dying, actually. He had cancer. Do you know what that is?" she asked. Jareth nodded. "Well, he was terminal. Late stage. Lochlan showed up one day and said he could heal him if I agreed to marry his master..."

"Did he? So he gave you his blessing then?" Jareth asked, and now it was her turn to nod. A small shade lowered over Jareth's eyes in response, but she didn't notice. "I see. How...fortunate."

"Yeah. It was," she replied. "I didn't know it was a marriage to you at first. Not that those details mattered. I was fit to marry anyone so long as Lochlan held up his end. So...to be honest...I'm kind of relieved it's you," she said and looked up with a meek shrug. "At least we have some repertoire."

To her disappointment, Jareth did not respond to that. No, instead he left her rather intimate comment hanging between them as his eyes averted. Sarah wondered why it was so damn hard to get him to build this bridge.

Jareth's focus fell absently on nothing, his brow furrowing as some unnamed thing awoke behind his eyes. A moment passed. And then two...

"I never expected to see you again," he said. Sarah sat up attentively. "Even now, your presence here is...surreal."

If she didn't know better, she'd have thought he sounded unhappy over that fact. Maybe he was. Maybe he was already regretting his pledge to her. Maybe he had acted on sheer impulse because she was, as he himself proclaimed, such an unexpected treat.

Or, maybe, she should stop thinking so negatively and instead enjoy the moment —and his unguarded expression— for what it was.

She hid her smile behind the rim of her cup as she spied on him.

"Hmph. Diddo."

A sense of distraction remained as they carefully resumed their meals. Sarah eyed him like a hawk, trying to decipher whatever code that could be pulled from a series of totally mundane mannerisms. He looked lost in thought —but nonetheless calm. She wondered if maybe he was still tired, worn out from...being worn out.

"So...speaking of our repertoire...can I ask you a question?" she asked. Jareth paused and quirked her a brow. "...what happened to the others? Past labyrinth runners, I mean."

Again her eyes scanned him for any insightful reaction, but he only glanced downward.

"It depends."

"On?"

"Their circumstances." His reply was quick, though obviously restrained. Sensing this was going to turn into a full discussion, he lowered his fork and elaborated. "The...parameters of the wish they made and the story the book told."

"Could you...be more specific, maybe?" she asked. Sensing reluctance from him, she went first. "My first night here, everyone was downright shocked to hear I was a runner. Apparently a lot of them die. So, please spare me the consideration and be frank with me. What happened to them?"

Jareth just stared at her for a moment, testing her it seemed.

"You just said it yourself. They die. …Sometimes."

Sarah replied with a quizzical brow. Jareth exhaled and shifted in his seat.

"The labyrinth is a dangerous place to play. More often than not, wishers fall prey to its many tricks and traps."

"And the ones who don't?"

Again Jareth paused. Sarah started to worry over whatever the hell his problem was.

"Those who do not perish prematurely often exceed the time limit. What happens next is, again, dependent on their wish. Sometimes they are punished —turned into goblins, for example. Sometimes they are sent on their merry way empty handed. If the life of another was offered, as was in your case, then that person would be equally punished," he explained. Sarah's head tilted as she regarded him.

"And...you carry out these acts?" she asked.

"Not necessarily."

Not necessarily — Oof. First from Lochlan, and now from him? That phrase was going to give her a complex pretty soon.

"Define, please."

"The book" Jareth said and wiped his hands with his napkin. "I made it a portent for a reason. The game is crafted around the mind of the wisher; the consequences of failure being a reflection of that person's guilt. What happens to them is whatever they feel they deserve. Magic is binding. The contracts I form are binding. Playing God is not as much fun as you might think, so I've crafted these constraints to apply to me as well. I give myself very little room to operate outside of the rules established by the book —it forces me to...think creatively. Those rules change for every wisher."

"And the people who do win? What happens to them?"

She figured they both knew where she was going with this —which was (in all likelihood) why he looked so damn uncomfortable. Now that he'd finally started talking to her, however, she couldn't help but voice her curiosities —starting with all that vague, fucked up shit the maids had said about him the night she'd arrived.

Did he really kill them off? How did she feel about that? Why had she never taken a step back to consider those things?

Jareth, wholly perceptive of her ill guarded thoughts as they dashed across her face, raised a challenging brow in her direction.

"What happened to you?" he asked. Sarah blinked out of her musing to frown at him. What happened to me? she thought. I went home...safe and sound...

Jareth's head tilted as her gaze lowered.

"You look skeptical," he said.

"I'm just...nevermind," Sarah replied and glanced away. "Those maids are stupid." She shook her head and made a little wince, then looked back over at him to explain herself. "They psyched me out a little, made it seem like...you were killing them off for fun or something," she said with a forced smile and an awkward shrug.

"I don't kill them off," Jareth replied, dryly. Sarah was on the verge of relief when he kept on talking. "...but I can't say watching whatever happens isn't fun." He looked up with the intention of catching her stare. She gave it readily, though it was totally unreadable. "You don't look particularly alarmed," he added.

Sarah angled her head.

"Did you think I would be?" she countered. Jareth did not answer, so she supposed that meant yes. "I'm not under some delusion that the code of ethics is fully aligned between our two cultures. And besides, gladiator games were a pretty big thing in my world once upon a time, too —so I get it."

"You get it?" Jareth repeated, his lip curling like those words left a foul taste on his tongue. Sarah's brow turned down, fighting off uncertainty.

"Well...yeah. Profound boredom can push a person to seek out some extreme forms of stimulation. Add in the capabilities of magic —which you're clearly desensitized by— and being surrounded by creatures that are unnaturally robust and prone to fits of jubilant chaos...seems like a perfect combination to feed some old fashioned mob mentality, am I right?" Was she simplifying the matter for her own sanctity? Maybe. Still, she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. For now, at least. "Multiply that by however many years you've been alone here and...yes, I can see how watching people having to physically fight against their own conscience, futilely or not, might be somewhat...satisfying."

Jareth stared at her dubiously.

"You don't think it cruel? Barbaric?"

His tone implied sheer disbelief. Sarah heard her inner voice echo that question with equal confoundment.

"I don't think you were especially cruel or barbaric towards me," she said.

The way he was regarding her was hard to gauge. It was like...he wanted her to be horrified. And yet, she wasn't. Maybe it was because the nature of the conversation was theoretical. Maybe she was just an apathetic person. Regardless, her responses were catching him off guard, so she rolled with it.

"You just said you have to operate by the terms wishers set in the book. That means their fates are decided by the weight of their conscience before they even meet you. Really...it has nothing to do with you at all."

"You're splitting hairs now. Aren't you, love?"

Sarah wriggled her brow.

"How so?"

Jareth grinned in a way that was less than friendly. It etched higher on one side and sharpened the look in his eyes.

"Don't forget, I'm the one who casts that book to the other worlds in the first place. And I know full well what may or may not happen to those poor, unfortunate souls."

Sarah pursed her lips in contemplation. He was probably trying to intimidate her with that wicked countenance, but she hardly acknowledged it.

"Hm...so it's a bit of a grey area then, huh?" she asked, glancing down at her plate as she picked up her utensils. "I guess I'll have to get back to you…"

She went back to eating like they'd never missed a beat. Jareth kept a watchful eye on her, continuously blindsided by her odd behavior.

"What?" she suddenly asked.

Jareth blinked and realized she was now watching him too, paused with her fork raised and a rather expectant look on her face.

He drew back and shook his head.

"Nothing. I suppose I just...anticipated you being a tad more righteous than that," he said, then followed her lead and cut into his food.

"Why? Because I'm a heroine?" she snidely asked. Jareth peered up. "It'd be a little hypocritical of me to claim the moral high ground here, considering I wished away my one-year-old brother into the custody of an inhuman entity with the vague knowledge that he would be turned into a goblin," she went on, flatly, before turning her attention back to her meal. "And, like I said, if what you're saying is true, then runners are essentially torturing themselves. You simply put the rod in their hands. If I could blame you for that, then I could just as easily blame them for being selfish or cruel enough to make a wish in the first place." She twirled her fork around in circles distractedly, then paused. "Although...I do think taking pleasure from watching someone else genuinely suffer is a little fucked up—" and she looked up and straight at him. "Do you take pleasure in watching other people suffer?"

Her expression was open as she'd asked that. If it were her intention, she would have succeeded in putting him on the spot. Jareth lowered his fork to the table, his aura turning even more standoffish.

"It depends," he said, vaguely. Sarah quirked a brow.

"...on the circumstances?"

Jareth nodded, reluctantly it seemed. Sarah did her best to analyze him in a brief moment of quiet.

"Are you talking about your markings?" she asked. "Or...whatever it is they're supposed to warn me about?" her head tilted a little in a gesture of encouragement, but this time he remained silent. He looked tense now. She frowned. "You can tell me. I'm not going to judge you."

She was caught off guard when he suddenly huffed.

"Oh really? Is your evaluation of my character not our current topic?" he asked rather curtly. Sarah drew back at the abrupt change in his demeanor.

"Lochlan said...that the things you do when you're in that state aren't your fault. So...if you've done...things...I'm willing to try to understand your side of it," she explained, hoping her neutral tone would mollify him.

She watched him huff again, cracking a sneer as he looked sharply away from her. He withdrew his hands from the table and crossed his arms. Sarah wondered why he was suddenly so defensive.

"Willing to try —how magnanimous," he said with sharp derision. His tone lowered, and his eyes narrowed. Sarah was just starting to feel concerned when he suddenly stood as if to leave—

"Hey— where are you going?" she asked, jumping to her feet as he headed straight for the door. "Jareth—"

She caught him by the sleeve and pulled back. Jareth paused mid-step and turned to glare down at her. "Just...hold up. Please," she said, reluctantly releasing his arm and curling her fingers against the considerable tension she could now sense radiating from him. She opened her mouth to speak and frowned. "I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

And she really didn't. What was the big deal? He was fine just a second ago, wasn't he? Was she not paying close enough attention? She didn't get why he was freaking out right now.

Jareth turned to face her and gave her a nasty smile.

"No, you're just riddled with curiosity," he said sardonically. Sarah recoiled a little more. "There's a reason why they say curiosity killed the cat. It would be wise for you to show a bit more restraint," he continued, biting down on that last word before proceeding to storm off once more. In a panic, Sarah reached out and yanked him back again —only to have him immediately tear himself out of her grasp.

"Stop it," she said (pleaded?). Whatever her tone, the beseech worked and he stilled. He was still glaring at her though. Sarah stood as tall as she could. "You're...trying to intimidate me. I'm not that dumb," she stated.

"No, but you're still an idiot."

Sarah blinked like he'd just reached out and slapped her in the face, watching in silence as he angled himself away from her.

"You patronized me so well just now, but don't think for one moment that you even know the first thing about me," Jareth said, talking down to her in a manner that, this time, actually had effect. Sarah tried not to cower. "So please, spare me. I have no interest in being fodder to your curiosity."

Sarah's hands lowered to her sides as she stared up at him, denying them the desire to fist. He was being nasty. Mean. But, even as her face flushed with feeble distress, she smothered her nerves and called him out on this very blatant show of self-defense.

"Jareth…" she started, swallowing back the tremble in her voice. "I'm not asking you these things to be self-serving. I'm asking because I want to know you better. I want to help."

If there was ever an honest moment between them, it was now —and she hoped that he knew that. She stood with a tight jaw and stared into his eyes. She wanted to reach out again but couldn't bring herself to do so. She was confused, and sorry, and eager. He'd made himself so vulnerable to her but a short while ago, so why…?

She didn't get it. Didn't get the figurative wall, in all its ferocity, which now stood so firmly between them.

Jareth stared at her just as intently, and she hoped that because of it her sentiment would make its way though. But...

After a moment his decision was made. He gave her a dismissive tch and glanced at the floor, shaking his head incredulously as he composed himself.

"As I said—" and he slowly looked up. "Spare me."

His eyes on hers cut like knives, but not before she could see the passion in them vanish. Not before she could see them become dead and void. See him close down on her. Entirely.

She was at a loss for words as he turned his back on her, and watched on in stupefaction as he walked away. He let the door slam shut behind him. And then he was gone. Just like that.

The sound of the door jolted her into action, and she blinked rapidly out of her stupid daze. What the fuck? Did he really just run away from her like that? What? Why was he so angry? Was her question really that triggering?

She felt anxiety bubble up into her throat as she debated chasing after him, but knew it would be better to let him cool off. Instead, she bit her nails and frowned hopelessly at the door.

She'd been too cocky, hadn't she? Pushed him too hard, too soon? Maybe he was right. Maybe she'd let her curiosity run away with her. But...what the fuck else was she supposed to do? It wasn't like all this mystery made him less interesting! And, better yet, what the fuck was she going to do to fix this?

Goddamn it, Sarah. You pet the lion too hard. Don't be so surprised it bit you —her inner voice chided. Pet? More like poked. God... Is there even a difference?

With a sigh, Sarah slowly turned to look over her shoulder, staring back at the mural and all the shadowed figures lurking within. They seemed more lively somehow —vulgar spectators, curious and delighted by her vexation.

She cursed them all.

With another gruff sigh, she clawed her fingers into her scalp and paced. This wasn't how she was expecting the night to go and, once again, the goddamn construction effort fell entirely on her.

Fucking emo, angsty, haughty, too fucking tall and dark, and intriguing, magical bully of a goddamn fae! Have I not been pleasant? Have I not been patient and understanding? Why won't you just tell me?! Ugh!

She growled as her thoughts roared, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She needed to calm down and she knew it. She was the one who'd upset him, remember?

...

*Sigh*

She was going to need to come up with one hell of an apology for this, wasn't she? …if she ever saw him again, anyway.

Fucking hell.