Double update! So, I started to write the more saucy bits, but I cannot in good conscience let that happen without Sarah turning 18. (Of course, turning 18 doesn't make you magically an adult, as society might market to us.) I think I've mentioned, I've grown and matured a bit (a lot, several years lol) since starting this fic. I no longer romanticize the things I used to. I mean, the whole reason Labyrinth is basically a feminist masterpiece is because she doesn't end up with the way-older guy who sends up lots of red flags…but here at fanfiction, we feed our dark desires—responsibly! So, enjoy a birthday bash and then some fun. Warning: Mature Content.

The illustrious J Connelly's birthday is December 12, but I bumped Sarah's birthday up a month. I've made her a Scorpio; I find it more fitting (not that I believe that stuff…but hey too many coincidences). I place her birthday on Nov 9, 1970. Scorpio is sharp, but—although often mistaken for a fire sign—is surprisingly a water sign, which means one is connected with emotions and intellectualism, despite one's tenacious vivacity and edges. But enough about that, on with the show!

~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~

The week following the second attack was like the days following the graffiti—filled with tension. The guards that followed Sarah and her ladies-in-waiting had become the norm, but now Sarah felt like she needed to constantly check over her shoulder and watch her back.

"I can't let them rule my life," she thought to herself, exiting rehearsal with her guards to find Gwyreign and Onika dutifully waiting in the hallway. She would be careful, but she would not live her life in fear. If she met them face to face, they had another thing coming; who needs magic when you've got a great roundhouse kick in your skillset?

"My lady, His Majesty has left something in your room. We're to accompany you there now," said Gwyreign, gently taking Sarah by the arm.

Sarah furrowed her brow. "Is it a gift?" Sarah wasn't big on surprises—especially from the Goblin King.

"Oh yes," said Onika with a gentle smile.

"Is it a gift I'll like?" Sarah asked sarcastically. Onika and Gwyreign just smiled knowingly at each other.

When Sarah entered her room, she saw her "gift." Laid out on her bed was a rather beautiful, rather adult gown. It resembled a gown from the Aboveground rather than the voluptuous ballgowns of the Underground. Next to it lay a note:

"Please change into this when you receive it." A tiny sketch of a barn owl meant the note was penned by the Goblin King himself.

The silver, spaghetti strap gown had a swooping cowl neckline. When she changed into it and looked in the mirror, she could've believed it had been painted onto her with brushstrokes that caressed her every curve. Despite the cowl neckline, the dress was tight around her ribs and supported her breasts, their elevation making them appear buoyant and very conspicuous. The gown reached to her ankles, but there was a slit on the right side that went all the way up to her thigh.

Gwyreign brushed her hair, but left it natural; it hung around her like a midnight curtain. After Gwyreign sprinkled silver glitter in it, it even twinkled with stars befitting a midnight sky.

Sarah stared at the woman in the mirror. "I look sexy," she observed. Her voice was flat; how should she feel? She didn't want to look sexy yet…did she? She liked how she looked. Jareth would like how she looked. Conflicting feelings of gratitude and frustration warred within her; this was more a gift to himself than to her, she thought. This was how Jareth wanted to see her. Sarah cast her gaze down.

"You look beautiful, My Lady," said Onika. Sarah lifted her chin and timidly observed the woman who stared back from the mirror.

She smiled. She was grateful for the dress. And, she was growing up. She would enjoy wearing the gown, she did think she looked beautiful. Jareth could decide if she looked sexy or not.

Onika added makeup, simple silver earrings, and a silver arm band that encircled her right upper arm. The heels Gwyreign brought her were at least four inches. Sarah had no conflicting feelings about not wanting to wear those, but she'd entertain Jareth. She slipped into them and walked around a bit to get used to the feel of them.

"I can walk in these better than I remember," she commented. Another look in the mirror showed her they accentuated her already curvy figure, giving her behind a little extra lift.

"Alrighty then, off we go," squealed Gwyreign with excitement that confused Sarah.

Sarah raised her eyebrows. Before she could ask what the big deal was, Onika chimed in. "Follow me, Lady Sarah." Sarah took her arm and followed her down the hallway, semi-recognizing where they were going. The Labyrinth had yet again changed the hallways. Sarah had become used to this—and used to navigating this. When they walked down a dead end that led only to a pair of closed double doors, they stopped. Gwyreign knocked three times. "Close your eyes." Sarah couldn't help but smile in anticipation. Her ladies were so giddy; what was the occasion?

She closed her eyes and heard the door open. They pulled her forward across the threshold. She took wary steps towards the unknown…

"SURPRISE!"

Sarah instinctively opened her eyes in response to the shout. Before her was a vermeiled ballroom filled with an enormous crowd. Sarah was shocked to see balloons and streamers everywhere. The crowd was filled with gentry (who were "dressed down" from what she was used to), but front and center were Jareth and the rulers of the realms—including legged Mer-monarchs rather than their apparitions and the previously absent King and Queen of the Crystal City. Next to the leaders stood—

"Hoggle!" she cried! Hoggle, Sir Didymus and Ambrosius, and Ludo were all there wearing party hats. Ludo even had a giant party blower that he enthusiastically blew into, causing it to unfurl and curl up again.

Jareth approached. "Happy Birthday, dear Sarah," he bowed and offered her his hand.

Sarah's jaw dropped. "It's my birthday…?" she asked more to herself than to him. He flashed a wide smile, unaware of the one that had just disappeared from her face. "Excuse me," she said, backing away, backing out the door and into the hallway. She removed herself from everyone's view and slumped against the wall. It was her birthday. She was eighteen. She was an adult—a legal adult. She'd have started her senior year by now. But how could it already be November ninth in the Aboveground? Sarah was sure she hadn't been here for…

"How many months?" she whispered to herself. She was taken in June, she believed. Had it already been five months? Most certainly not. But time Underground was in flux compared to back home. She would turn eighteen without her family, without Karen there to see her only daughter, even if step, become a woman. Sarah's chest heaved. Gwyreign had joined her in the Hallway, but she didn't care. She needed a moment to process.

"I've gotta get back in there," she thought to herself. "He made everything so beautiful, he invited everyone from my Labyrinth run and all my friends. He even has balloons, for crying out loud! I owe him some gratitude." She took Gwyreign's hand.

"Sorry about that," she said. Gwyreign wore an expression of deep concern. "I just needed a moment. Let's go." Sarah entered the ballroom.

She threw her arms wide and flashed a toothy grin at the eclectic group of friends and patrons. She went straight to "her boys" and gave them all a big group hug. The gentry were behaving with restraint, but Tim and Jim, and Ralph and Alph, hit her with a giant bear hug from both sides. Even the worm was there, carried around on a silver plate by a parchment-skinned attendant.

"Sarah! Meet the missus!" he cried, looking at the lady worm next to him. She was purple and sported a little bonnet. Sarah laughed out loud.

"It's such a pleasure to meet you!" she replied, bowing her head to the pair.

The monarchs all crowded around and gave their respective greetings. Whatever Amalia had meant by their last visit, her behavior this time was warm and enthusiastic, as was the composure of her husband, Grenneth.

"It's so nice to meet you corporeally," joked Sarah to the merfolk. Sarah couldn't tell what their legs looked like under Lealilyn's dress and Borren's long toga; Sarah supposed pants were very uncomfortable if you'd never worn them before in your life. Several of the gentry and many, many goblins greeted her and congratulated her on turning eighteen. Many even acknowledged the significance her age held in the human world. She felt a hand on her lower back and turned to find Jareth inches from her.

"You look stunning, my dear." He wore a jacket of glittering silver, complete with high shoulders elevated by shoulder pads. Underneath was a vest of silver over a white shirt—sans ruffles—and a silver tie. His leggings were a dark, shiny pewter tucked into black yet glittering boots; he looked like a rock star. His eyeshadow was even silver glitter.

Sarah smiled. "Thank you. And thank you for the dress." She took his hands in hers. "Jareth, this is amazing, thank you for everything!" Sarah looked around and took in the splendor of the ballroom. It was decorated like a fancy Aboveground birthday party, complete with streamers, balloons, noisemakers, and party hats. At the far end were several long tables covered in food. To the left were sandwiches and drinks, and to the right were what looked like snacks and desserts. In the middle stood a towering, multi-layered birthday cake.

"Anything for you, my love." He bent down and kissed her gently on the lips; even though they had now been kissing for a few days, it still brought butterflies to her tummy. "Let's mingle," Jareth said. "Soon enough it will be time to cut the cake."

~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~

Jareth and Sarah lounged on the floor next to a crackling fire that cast a warm, flickering glow from a stone fireplace. They were in what Jareth had called "the study." They lay upon a fur rug covered in plump, ornate pillows. Exotic tapestries of red and orange hung on the wall, and several bookshelves dotted perimeter. In a corner off to the left was a massive wooden desk covered with parchments, quills, and bottles of ink.

Jareth was on his second glass of champagne while Sarah nursed her first; she thought champagne was much better than wine, although it still wouldn't be her first choice of drink. But, today was a day to celebrate, and the occasion called for champagne.

The party had been wonderful. They had danced and chatted and enjoyed a delicious chocolate cake; Sarah was happy she remembered the courtly dance steps. She had received a mountain—a literal mountain—of gifts. She hadn't had time to open them all, but she had opened the ones from the other rulers, from Jareth's uncle, Duke Hadsley, from Baronness Jepha, and from her trio of friends. She had received jewelry more expensive than she ever could've afforded Aboveground, delicate silks, and more finery than she could imagine a use for; Sarah wondered what was in the rest of the giftboxes. Her friends had hand-woven her a beautiful basket filled with fresh-picked flowers. She already had them in a vase of water on the study desk and planned to dry or press them. It had been a busy, beautiful day, but now, it was time to unwind.

Sarah sipped her drink thoughtfully; she still hadn't received the one thing she wanted for her birthday. Then again, she hadn't yet asked for it. She regarded her partner; one leg was extended while the other was bent. He leaned back against a pile of pillows with his eyes closed, resting and enjoying the feel of champagne coursing through his veins.

"Jareth," Sarah asked, rolling herself onto her belly and closer to him.

"Yes, dear," he answered without opening his eyes.

Sarah hesitated. He had already denied her this request—but it was her eighteenth birthday… "I was wondering if I might ask you for a very special birthday present."

He opened his eyes and leaned towards her. "Anything, my love."

"I'd like to see my parents."

Sarah held her breath. At first, Jareth did not react. Then he leaned back. He stared into the fire, his jaw tensing. Several emotions passed across his face. The silence was deafening.

"I…will allow it," he said, as if with some difficulty. Sarah nearly dropped her glass in shock. Jareth summoned a crystal. In excitement, Sarah downed the rest of her champagne and scooted closer to Jareth. She leaned on his right side, gazing into the crystal. The air hummed with electric expectancy.

An image began to appear in the crystal. At first it was hazy. Then, it shimmered into focus. Her father and Karen both sat in bed, each with a book in their hand.

"Dad! Mom!" Sarah cried. Tears stung her eyes. Karen looked away from her book and towards Robert; a smile lit up her face. She placed the book on the nightstand and wiggled her way under Robert's arm, leaning against his chest as he continued to read. He placed a tender kiss upon her head. "Let me see Toby!" begged Sarah, tears now falling down her cheeks. The image wavered and then showed Toby asleep in his crib. He had his own room now, but he was still in a crib. Sarah would miss moving him to a "big boy" bed. There had even been talk of it before she had been taken. "Oh, Toby," Sarah said as a sob choked her. The image wavered and disappeared, taking the crystal with it.

Sarah sat up straight, leaning away from Jareth. She wiped the tears from her face; now was no time to cry. Her family was safe. "Thank you," she said. They sat in silence for a few moments as Jareth finished his drink. "They look happy," Sarah said, the sinking feeling in her stomach preventing her from feeling anything.

"I have assured it," Jareth said.

"Thank you," Sarah murmured. "I'm tired now, Jareth; I think I'll go to bed. Thank you for a wonderful birthday." She made sure she was the one to initiate the kiss, and she leaned into it intentionally.

"Happy birthday, my darling."

~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~ ~.*.~

The next week passed uneventfully. The following week as well.

Perhaps un-eventful was the wrong word. Whoever orchestrated the attacks seemed to be taking a break—or re-strategizing. Sarah was not optimistic. She heard little from the Keepers, which she hoped meant they were hard at work. Politically, it was an uneventful time in the Labyrinth.

But, off in the corners of the castle, Jareth's tongue had found its way into Sarah's mouth. It was a step up in their intimacy. These days Sarah enjoyed burying her hands in Jareth's soft, thick mane. Occasionally she'd nibble at his upper lip, which was met with him playfully gnawing on her bottom lip. The taste of peaches on his tongue, the smell on his breath, had become a welcome thing. Still, Sarah could not bring herself to ever eat a real peach… Jareth loved the taste of her. She tasted sweet yet was laden with a warmer smell, something floral and deeper than the candy of her kisses.

After Jareth's tongue came his wandering hands. He slowly, gently, lifted one to Sarah's breast. He waited for a rebuke or removal. She continued to kiss him passionately, encouraging him. He applied pressure and was met with a moan of pleasure. He massaged her right breast in circles, finally ending by pressing into her nipple.

All above her clothes, of course.

The frequency of their gentle trysts started first every-other-day, then every day, and then at least twice a day they found themselves locked in each other's embrace. There were passionate kisses, erotic teases, and romantic glances.

Soon, another step forward as he lifted the hem of her shirt. She did not stop him. He shuddered with pleasure as is fingers grazed the soft skin of her belly. He felt her skin pucker with little goosebumps at his touch. He swept up to her breast; it was too much for him to contain his pleasure, and his already prominent bulge grew.

He squeezed her ample breasts. She had always been well-developed for her age, and he celebrated it now. He wished he could tear his mouth from hers to take a look, he wanted to view her and her beauty, but he just couldn't bring himself to stop kissing her. He slipped his fingers inside the cup of her bra. The firm surface of her nipple had grown soft and he gently ran his fingers over it; now Sarah was shuddering with pleasure, unable to control her moaning. Her moans deepened. The sensations she felt seemed to be building towards something, satisfying yet never enough; building, building, building—but to what? She wasn't sure yet. All she knew was she wanted his hands and his mouth on her skin.

During the third tryst of the tenth day after her birthday, Jareth pulled at the hem of her breeches.

Sarah broke away from him. "Jareth, wait. I…" she looked down in shame.

He tilted her chin back up towards him. "It's ok." He kissed her gently. She buried her face in his neck, breathing him in. Yes, he was right. Of course it was ok. Boundaries are no reason to be ashamed. She didn't mind above-the-belt.

Another step taken, and yet another as one night, when they lay together on Sarah's bed wriggling in the throes of passion, Jareth tore his mouth from the spot on her neck where he had been kissing and leaned back. He grabbed her tunic and lifted it over her head, happy now that she usually didn't wear dresses. She did not protest. As the shirt was peeled off of her braless torso, the excitement of her bare breasts stopped his breath for a moment. Her alabaster skin called to him, called him to caress every inch of it, to lap at ever exposed morsel of his love's delectable body. His mouth latched onto her right nipple and sucked. The new sensation released every tension in Sarah's body, and she succumbed to the sweet release of pleasure. Jareth ran his tongue in circles around her tender areola before quickly making his way to her left breast. Sarah rubbed her hands all over his back. She wanted his skin in hers. Jareth was surprised when she pulled at his shirt. He lifted his mouth from her breast and his eyes opened. Hers were squeezed shut, lost in the moment. He unbuttoned his vest; Sarah opened her eyes and smiled slyly; this journey of physically intimate maturity awoke something in her that liked watching. He pulled his billowing shirt off and threw it off the bed; Sarah was brought out of the moment when a concealed knife revealed itself. It was tightly strapped diagonally across his chest, safely situated in a tiny sheath. Jareth saw her surprise and pulled the knife out. He tossed it up and flipped it, nimbly catching it by the hilt. "Just in case," he said. He sheathed it once more, carefully removed the harness, and dropped it to the floor.
"Now where were we…"

She had seen her family safe and well, she had celebrated her eighteenth birthday, her relationship was marriage-minded, healthy, and strong, and she liked being a part of the theater troupe. Now, she wanted something more, something professional. Recently, Sarah made very important bequest to Eustatius the Wise—and to her surprise, was met with approval. She had wanted to create a children's theater troupe since her arrival. Proper training for young actors seemed to be lacking in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. And, some income of her own would be nice—not that she wonted for anything. Still, she wanted her independence in every way possible.

Eventually, she wanted to add a modern dance program; courtly dancing and even "Aboveground ballet" were offered to the children of the gentry, but she thought modern would be a fresh, interesting new addition to the culture scene. She hoped she remembered her history lessons on Isadora Duncan and Martha Graham. But, baby steps. Baby steps…