Thank you all so much for the positive responses! Here's a little more! It won't be consistent and it won't be as often as I'd like, but I'll do my best! I definitely have a story road map, though I do need to give my Charmed fic some love. Enjoy! Thank you!
TW unwanted advances

Sarah pressed under her ribs, working her hand deeper and deeper into her abdominal cavity with each exhalation. She was stretching her diaphragm. She sat herself down on the floor, bent her right leg in, and brought her nose to her left knee, left leg extended. She worked through several other stretches, trying to extend and release any tension in each muscle and joint. It was a one-on-one private dress rehearsal of all the Odette solos and Odette/Rothbart scenes. She ran her fingers tenderly along her white, feather tutu. Her white tights glittered subtly. Her head piece was two little feather wings on either temple, made complete with a downy masquerade mask. The outfit really did heighten her performance. She hated to admit it, as she was supposed to act and dance her best character at all times—but, the costume really did make the role. The feathers made her feel light and delicate. She truly felt like a swan princess.

She was alone on a dimly lit stage. The house lights were off.

Sarah ran through her death scene. It was emotionally draining, but she needed to prepare it today.

Then, a spotlight was on her, blinding her vision momentarily and bringing tears to the corners of her eyes.

"Prologue," a voice echoed, booming deeply around the auditorium. Sarah looked for the speaker, her eyes slowly adjusting.

Mikel walked into her vision. He was dressed as Rothbart in black tights and leotard. He wore black feather shoulder pads, and his masquerade mask was covered in black feathers with the pointed beak of a crow.

"Pushy today," thought Sarah. But, she respected that Mikel pushed her. He wouldn't push her so hard if he didn't think she could meet his demands. She began her dance.

She started a choreography of innocence. She walked, stepping and twirling slowly on point. She leaned forward, balancing on her right point and extending her left leg up into the air in a split. She returned both her feet to flat on the ground. Then, two hands grabbed her waist. "Odette" grabbed them and threw them away, turning to face her assailant. She extended a rebuking arm towards him and turned away defiantly. The pursuit began. They were twirling and intertwining. Sarah didn't like how rough Mikel seemed to be taking it.

Then, the music sounded a little different. Sarah thought she heard tinkling chimes in the orchestral melody now. She continued to dance, trying to remain focused. She didn't want to fail a test presented by her teacher. Then, the melody itself changed. Sarah didn't know what Mikel was playing at, but she didn't want to play along.

"Stop," she said, "the music is wrong, we can't go on like this."

They danced. His hands led her arms

"Mikel, c'mon, we need to put the correct track back on."

Sarah found she couldn't stop herself. She kept dancing.

"What...?" she thought. They continued their routine. The music changed.

Then, Sarah realized, so did the dance. Sarah didn't know this choreography. Then she remembered, she hadn't known the death scene she had rehearsed either.

"Mikel, I want to stop, make it stop."

He was spinning her around and around. She tried to run away, but she couldn't get off point. The music was familiar now...where had she heard this music before. What was going on?

"I'm dreaming," Sarah realized.

She fought it, she fought the urge to dance. The music seemed to pull her and Mikel seemed to lead her body's motions like a puppeteer.

She halted herself, knocking herself out of the choreography. She stumbled slightly, coming to flat-foot. She turned and looked at Mikel.

Two different colored eyes looked out from behind the mask. They were familiar...

"No..." said Sarah. She gasped as he lifted his hands and she rose back up on point like a marionette. The dance began again. This time, Sarah danced alone and her puppet master took a few steps back to watch her, hungrily gazing.

It couldn't be him. He had no power over her. This was a bad dream.

"Wake up," she whispered to herself, her hands making graceful arcs.

"Wake up, wake up." She was crying out now. "Wake up!"

She froze mid choreography.

"No, Sarah, you will not wake up." His voice was as deep and velvety as she remembered. Then, he was behind her, hands on her waist. Sarah was held in third position. He stroked his hands down to her hip bones and back up again.

They danced once more, but this time it was not delicate. A fiery, passionate choreography began. This was jerky, this was primal. His hands wandered over body as they danced. He lifted her and grasped her.

They stopped, Sarah frozen. She couldn't move.

Suddenly, he spun her to face him. He seized her roughly by the arms; a small cry of alarm escaped from Sarah's mouth. A huge grin was spread across his face; the mask of a crow was now the mask of an owl, feathers still black as night

"No..." she said again. This wasn't possible. Yet, she was facing him.

"Jareth..." she said, as if speaking his name out loud was the only way to admit to herself it was him, the only way to overcome the denial in her mind.

"Oh yes," he said, "and I have waited so long, Sarah, so long..."

"As the world falls down..." sang the music.

He snaked his right arm around her waist and his left hand held her right. They swayed to the music.

If Sarah had been in control of her own body, she would've still been frozen in fear. She thought she had been done with the Goblin King. She thought she would never see him again.

"What do you want, Jareth?" Sarah cut through the silence after several moments, keeping her voice as steady as possible.

"Oh, Sarah, tut tut," he chided mockingly, "You ask a question to which you already know the answer. I want the same thing I've always wanted...you."

The hair on the back of Sarah's neck stood on end. Her breath caught in her throat.

"It was never about the baby," he added, "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, you fought your way to the castle. Now, I've fought my way back to you."

"You have no power over me," she spat at him, packing as much venom into her words as she could.

"Oh, but I do, Sarah. Here I most certainly do."

They stopped dancing. He released her and ran his fingertips across her forehead. He ran them across her temples, her cheekbones, her lips, her collarbones. He was teasing her, torturing her with the slowness of his touch. She agonized waiting for what he was going to do next. She hated herself for eliciting a pleasured shudder at the soft caresses he strew across her skin. He was running his fingertips up and down her arms. He brought them up to her neck and slowly traced lines down to her chest, his gaze following. He stopped at the feathery top of her leotard, just above her breasts.

He looked back up at her with a devilish smile and narrowed eyes. He placed his hands on her breasts, running his fingers around her nipples.

Sarah gasped at the tingles it sent through her body.

"Jareth! Jareth...Jareth, stop!" she cried at the assault. He pressed harder, massaging her breasts, deepening the feeling of pleasure. Sarah gagged at her reaction to his touch.

"What, Sarah? Don't you like it?" he toyed. He growled hungrily.

Tears escaped her eyes, running down her cheeks. Jareth licked them up with the tip of his tongue and followed this action with a long kiss on her neck. A little moan escaped Sarah's throat. Old feelings of desire for him flooded back, intensifying the rage that burned in her.

"Now, Sarah," he said, placing his right hand behind her neck, "I'm going to take what always should have been mine."

He drew her in for a kiss.

Sarah tore herself away from him, her will overpowering his own. She ran.

Behind her Jareth went up in a cloud of black and tan feathers. He was flying in pursuit of her, caught between human and owl. As Sarah ran, he reached out to grab her, continually catching the feathers from her chest and skirt. She ran through a formless darkness, white feathers swirling around her with each grab and tear Jareth made, himself a whirlwind of feathers and arms behind her.

Then, in front of her, she saw a door in the distance. She boosted her running into a higher gear. She was gasping for breath. Her throat was burning, but she put some distance between her and Jareth. She was going to make it.

She lunged for the door, arms outstretched—but, Jareth grabbed her by the shoulders, toppling them both to the ground, mere feet from the portal to her escape.

Sarah immediately began to fight, to kick to claw. It was short lived; he was bigger and stronger, and he pinned her down. His hands pressed her wrists into the ground and he straddled his hips over her thighs. She was trapped.

"Nooo," she cried out, beginning to sob. She couldn't move.

Their eyes locked. How could he look at her so adoringly, so...proud?

"There is my Queen. A fighter to the end. I haven't been able to get you in a sleep deep enough, so thank you for obliging me. And thank you for running through that death scene, very studious of you; this is the final scene of this particular play. You are mine, Sarah. You know this, you've always known this. And, I am yours. Submit to me, Sarah. Submit."

Sarah calmed her sobs. She needed to focus. She closed her eyes and evened her breathing. He seemed to take this as a submission and smiled in elation.

Sarah took a deep breath. She needed to be calm. She needed to think clearly.

Opening her eyes, she looked straight into his.

"For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great. You have no power over me...I'm waking up."

His eyes widened in shock. Sarah inhaled. She breathed deep into her belly, she filled her lungs until she thought they would pop.

She screamed as loud as humanly possible.

Jareth looked frightened. There was a sound of breaking glass, and the last thing Sarah heard was Jareth's scream of "no" into the darkness. He lunged his mouth for hers.

Sarah bolted upright in her bed. She was drenched in sweat. Her breathing was heavy. She couldn't remember at first what had just happened.

"Bad dream..." she thought. Then, it all came flooding back to her. Jareth has made his way back into her life. Sarah looked at the clock. 3:27am.

It took her hours to return to sleep again. She didn't know what to do. If he was able to get to her dreams, how could she ever sleep soundly again?

Disclaimer: unwanted advances and disregarding consent do not equate love. I know this is wrong, and I do not encourage or endorse such behavior. This is a fictional story where we know character growth is going to happen; in life such luxuries are not afforded us, and we need not tolerate them even if they are. This applies to the rest of the story as well.