Chapter 14

The Show must go on.

Jareth had solely been doing his duty to his siblings, by dancing with Forsythia. His mind had been with his precious thing on the balcony outside. Jareth knew how to act the way Omre and Nudalun would have wanted him to perform. He could play up for society when he so chose to. He'd much rather be with Sarah. She had let him lapse into companionable silence, earlier in the night when they had been sitting with one another. She hadn't demanded courtly manners from him. It was ironic that he could be more openly flirtatious with Forsythia than he dared to be with his destined wife.

Jareth didn't feel obligated to keep up this pretence with Sarah. That was until she had become intoxicated from imbibing fae wine. He had cursed himself for an idiot. Having deceived her for months, Jareth couldn't bring himself to take advantage of her when she was drunk. He had gone inside to get her some water and nourishment to help reduce the impacts of the alcohol when his brother, Omre, cornered him with Forsythia.

"Your Majesty, you dance like a dream," Forsythia had crooned, batting her eyes and rubbing her hand over his shoulder.

"It is natural when your partner is as graceful, and light of foot as you are, darling," Jareth lied with a flashy smile.

Her laugh was the tinkle of bells - cracked bells that had been ringing for thirteen hours non-stop. Jareth returned her laugh with matching insipidity.

"I could stare into your eyes for hours," she simpered, leaning in closer, her hand reaching to cup his cheek.

The social performance for these events was always exhausting. Jareth laughed, teased, and flirted in the Court sanctioned custom, with the contemptuous fae, as his duty dictated. Right up until she leaned in for a kiss, he had remained refined. That was a bridge too far, especially when he had been trying to kiss Sarah all night. He tacked away from the insipid blonde.

Then he saw Sarah again. Standing there in the middle of the ballroom like an avenging angel, staring him down, with a cloud of fury surrounding her being. Everything about her was beauty personified, even in the grips of dark despair. A thrill ran through him that she could in all possibility, be jealous of Forsythia. Before he had a chance to school his features into a more appropriate look of concern, he saw HER leering over Sarah's shoulder.

Meffod Pinnsburr.

What was she doing in his Kingdom, and how did she get here? He had warded against the Pinnsburrs. It didn't take him long to connect Sarah's silent tears, to Meffod's presence. No other thought consumed him except for her safety. But as soon as he moved towards her, she veered off. Meffod accompanied her directly behind, throwing a smug look over her shoulder at him.

Jareth ran, driving through his guests, trying to reach his fleeing wife. Witnessing his Champion launch herself out of the room, heavily reminded him of their past ball encounter. He permitted Sarah to depart last time without objection. He wasn't about to let her leave again. Sarah was already through the double doors before he had gained the stairs. The doors swung to as he reached the top of the stairway. He pushed it open and ran into the empty vestibule.

Sarah was gone. Jareth detected the enchantments of the Pinnsburrs; both Meffod and Yarbro and a faint tang of familiar yet indefinable magic. They had succeeded in kidnapping her after all this time. How had they broken his defences? Someone here in the castle must have achieved this for them.

He ordered the nearest goblin to gather every creature in his kingdom to search for Sarah. He was prepared to dart down a corridor when he heard Hoggle rushing towards him, from behind.

"Yer Majesty," he cried. "Lady Sarah, she has been taken."

Jareth ground to a halt and whirled around to face the dwarf.

"You saw her go?"

"Two fae creatures took holds of each arm and then disappeared from the spot," Hoggle explained, proffering a flower. "This fell from her hair."

"Thank you, Hoggle," Jareth took the flower in his silver gloved hand. He ignored Hoggle's look of alarm at the use of his correct name.

The feelings of dread Jareth was exhibiting lifted temporarily. He had magic at his disposal, and she wasn't entirely without a shield. He mustered up a crystal and attempted to scry for her. It kept coming up blank. Whoever let Sarah break free of his protections, must still be blocking her. Jareth let out a roar, effectively frightening Hoggle into backing away and toppling over a vase. Jareth didn't even look up as Hoggle scrambled to attempt to fix the porcelain.

'She is my wife,' he thought viciously. 'You can't hide her from me.'

Jareth transported himself to his chambers. Upon the dresser was a carved wooden box, with abalone shell inlaid into the lid. Within the case rested a pearl; a treasure of viridity and purple. It was the original bridal-pearl; the one that foretold his marriage to Sarah. He kissed the pearl, thanking it for bringing his love into his life.

"Now take me to her," Jareth whispered some old elvish spell, and the pearl hovered above his hand. He transformed into an owl, following the pearl out into the night.

Pain. That was Sarah's first recollection as she gained consciousness. Her heart, her head and her body were all troubled with harrowing pain, emotional and physical. Her second thought was that she couldn't move her limbs. Her third, but perhaps this should have been her first thought, was that she had been unconscious. Why had she been unconscious?

With a surge of insight, she knew she had got herself kidnapped yet again. Possibly by the same people who captured her the first time. She groaned as the painful memories fell upon her in a tsunami of images. Terry, no Jareth, no they were the same person, leaning in to kiss her, suddenly kissing Forsythia. How could he? How could he trick her? He was fae. She should have been more guarded.

Sarah creaked open her eyes. She was in a cell, strapped up vertically by all four limbs in chains, illuminated only by a candle in a sconce on the opposing wall, and a small window to her left. She resented Jareth for this predicament.

"Fuck you," she shouted with a rough voice into the empty room. Except it wasn't empty.

"That's right," Meffod's voice floated from behind her. "You should be angry. Your King brought you here."

Sarah was too inflamed and aching to correct her about who or who wasn't her king. Her arms throbbed from being chained up, for goodness knows how long. She felt as though there was possibly no blood left in either of them.

"Your King betrayed your trust," a new voice entered the cell.

"He tricked you into thinking you were allies," Meffod added. "Did he almost convince you that you were friends?"

"Yet, he pretended to be a human to mislead you for months," the other voice contributed. Images of Terry swam through her mind. She gritted her teeth at all the things she had confided in him, all the touches, and looks they shared. All the times she disparaged the King to his face. She had even confessed the story of her broken marriage to him. She had shown such vulnerability in front of Terry - crying, panic attacks, letting him pay for her food, telling him she felt safe in his company - telling him how the Labyrinth had helped her grow as a person. Sarah groaned in pain and humiliation.

"Let me introduce you to my brother, Yarbro Pinnsburr," Meffod stepped into her view, followed by another pointy, blonde fae. She knew that name.

"You are the couple that wanted my Toby," Sarah croaked.

"Not wanted, dear," Meffod shook her immaculate, blonde head. "Deserved, owed, needed - we are his true parents."

"And your King stole him from us," Yarbro chipped in. Sarah noticed he looked to his wife every time he spoke, as if for approval. So she was the one running this game, Sarah concluded.

"Toby is not yours," she groaned in pain as little bolts of electricity shot through her brain.

"No, but revenge will be ours," Meffod simpered.

"I have nothing you want," Sarah moaned as more pain raked through her.

"No, dearie," she smirked. "You are nothing to us. You are but bait. Owl bait so to speak."

"Yes," Yarbro laughed. "Because the Goblin King has an owl form."

"She gets it, Yarbro," Meffod sighed. "You don't need to state the obvious. She isn't that dense, despite being a human."

"Call him with this crystal, and then we can get our revenge on him, and for you at the same time," Meffod produced a crystal, lifting it for Sarah to see. Meffod had misjudged her to think that she would want revenge on him, by proxy.

"We promise you can help with some of his torment and humiliation," Meffod proposed. They must have mistaken her look of disgust, for one of disappointment. "When you tell him how much you hate him, it will be ambrosia for us, and agony for him. What better torture than having the human he loves, spurn him a second time?"

'That plan would backfire', Sarah thought. 'He doesn't care enough to be affected.'

"Call him," she proffered the ball again, as one chain magically released her arm. Her arm screamed in agony as the blood rushed back into it. It was like 'pins and needles' on acid. Her other arm now bore her entire weight, and the sudden burden wrenched her shoulder violently. She took the crystal, dropping it straight away, staring into Meffod's hard eyes.

"If you want to be set free, you will call him," she placed the ball atop of a plinth, in arm's reach and swept from the room. Sarah knew how this would work. They would leave her there, and in her solitude and pain, she would become so desperate that she would eventually succumb to calling him, straight into a trap.

Sarah didn't know why she didn't just summon Jareth, and watch him suffer, but despite her anger, she couldn't bring herself to risk his life. She was more stalwart than that, and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her in this condition or condescend to ask him to rescue her. She didn't trust him, but she believed these two even less. Better the devil, you know.

Jareth had said that these two were no match for him, and she remembered through the pain and fatigue, that he believed more powerful fae were propping these two up. But weak fae, or not, they both had more magic than she did.

If she even had magic, Jareth could have lied to her about that too. But then she had ended up in his bath under her supposed innate powers. Or had that been another trick of his?

Round and round she went, at least her inner turmoil distracted her from her physical pain of being strung up and stretched by chains. Now that she had one arm free, the other arm supported the weight of her body. It was making her dizzy and nauseous. One particular violent wave of pain was followed by the meagre contents of her stomach spewing forth all over the stone floor, and herself. Sarah had reached up and grabbed the chain, just to give her body a break from being stretched thin.

She went back to puzzling how long she had hung there. She was tired, hungry, thirsty and dirty already. Her last memory was when she had walked out of the ballroom, and two arms grabbed her. Out the window, it still signified night. It could have been days chained here for all she knew.

Or Jareth's betrayal had taxed her body and emotions quicker. Or magic had exhausted her. There wasn't any way to tell unless she asked the Pinnsburrs.

Hours passed, at least Sarah assumed they were hours. Yarbro or Meffod would come back in to tempt her with food or water or ask her to summon Jareth. She never gave in to them. Her anger and fury at Jareth kept her from succumbing to temptation. It was the fuel to her fire, retaining her strength and determination.

Sarah was gritting her teeth against the pain, the pain of revelation, the pain of her bodily torture when she heard a noise at the window.

Meffod and Yarbro reclined on the couch sipping sherry and watching the night sky. They had succeeded in retrieving the bait, and now they just had to wait for their trap to be complete.

It had been a foolproof plan. Omre and Nudalun hated Jareth just as much as they both did. They approached the angry child-less couple years ago to convince them to capture the mortal from Above. That plan had backfired when they returned Underground sans the human. Nudalun especially had been full of rage. Their combined magic was powerful enough to shield Sarah from Jareth. However, to shield her entirely from them in turn, it was assumed that another player had come into play.

Thanks to Glib the goblin, they discovered that Jareth believed the Labyrinth had hidden her. So when Jareth invited Nudalun and Omre to the ball, they concocted a plan to overthrow that magic and kidnap her a second time. At their cue, Nudalun and Omre cast a masking spell that overwhelmed both Jareth's and the Labyrinth's protection. Forsythia, tasked with distracting the Goblin King, allowed the window of opportunity and they transported the girl out of the Goblin Kingdom. Yarbro roughed her up a bit for fun upon her arrival at one of the lesser forts of Trew. Omre and Nudalun still desired to keep their hands clean, so did not want Navas to be involved. The Pinnsburrs did not wish to taint their manor, so this fort in the Trew foothills had to suffice.

"This place is dismal, Meffy," Yarbro propped his feet up on a wooden footstool. "Can we not just leave her here and return home?"

"You fool," Meffod barked. "The Navas royalty have promised us enough riches to make even Trew royalty sick with envy, but most importantly, revenge."

The Navastians couldn't offer Meffod and Yarbro what they wanted: their own family, but money and revenge were as good, if not better. Who needed to train a human child if they had more finance and more power? Omre and Nudalun had been vague about their motivations, but they paid for the goblin spy, so it was no concern to the Pinnsburrs at the end of the day. It was enough that they hated the Goblin King as much as they did. They didn't need to know the reasons.

Confident that their trap would work, Meffod was already planning her rise in the ranks of Trew nobility. Not many other Trewians could claim such a strong alliance with the Navas royal family. The prestige alone would curry favour, but also suffice as the currency with which they climbed the social ladder. And all they had to do was wait until the girl called on the Goblin King.

"It is only 'revenge' if he cares enough to come," Yarbro puffed on his pipe.

There was no doubt in Meffod's mind that The Goblin King preferred the girl and would come to her rescue. Meffod was quick to share her distaste of favouring a mortal, with Yarbro, at any opportunity. It amplified in her mind that the Goblin King was a lesser creature.

"He will come, Yarbro," Meffod said with confidence. "I judge him for his peculiar taste in females, but as repugnant as she is, he is fond of her."

The gathered intel of his attachment to the mortal was substantial. Not only did they have Glib the goblin, but numerous extra paid underlings who could testify to particular exploits that built a solid case against them. There was enough ammunition against the Goblin Kingdom, allowing the Pinnsburrs to get away with their current vigilante actions.

The Pinnsburrs knew the Prince was having an affair with a lower-class male. They knew the Goblin King was going against the wishes of the High King, the High Council, King Effistod of Navas, and his two eldest children, to woo a meagre mortal, when they already viewed their niece, Forsythia as his wife. It was enough to condemn them, as paltry as the issues seemed to the common folk. In the eyes of the Court, same-sex relations and dalliances with mortals were worse crimes than kidnapping and torture.

Meffod sipped her sherry with glee. She could barely contain her excitement. Yarbro was less demonstrative, having grumbled all night about yearning for his bed and slippers.

"A little bit of discomfort in this drafty fort will be worth it when we are rolling around in riches," she hushed him. "Before you know it we will be lapping up the mortification of the Goblin King."

"I think it is my turn to go and offer her with a glass of water," Yarbro shuffled off reluctantly.

The Pinnsburrs kept tempting the girl with revenge, hunger, pain and thirst to force her into summoning the Goblin King. They knew she would eventually do it. They waited fifteen years, what was a few more hours? They underestimated her determination, though. The hours ticked by and there was no sign of her giving in to summon her rescuer. However, hope remained strong, even as the night got colder, especially as the night got colder.

"If the Goblin King agrees to marry Forsythia, then we would let the girl go free," Meffod explained yet again to her husband when he returned unsuccessful from the mortal's cell. "She is nothing to us. If he refuses, we will simply torture her in front of him. One way or the other we will deliver a repentant Goblin King to Omre and Nudalun, and we get the joy of being his tormentors for a few days."

Meffod could barely contain herself. Yarbro lamented his indoor plumbing and feather pillows.

Once the girl was released, the Pinnsburrs would then delight in torturing the King, with whatever elicited strong reactions. Until they broke him, they would incorporate illusions of his mortal in dangerous situations, with other men, and eventually, they would show him her dead body. Jareth was the fae that had deprived them of an effortless way to gain social standing - possessing a child to bribe or trade within marriage. He deserved his punishment.

Jareth hadn't taken to the skies for quite some time. It was liberating, but he had one sole focus. Sarah. Her look of absolute fury taunted him. What had Meffod told her to make her look at him like that? In all their encounters, she had never looked upon him with such extreme loathing. Hatred, yes, but never this deep and immovable. The anger was so palpable he could almost see it flying around her, like bats out of hell.

Jareth coasted on an updraft, keeping his owl eyes on the pearl still soaring through the bitter night air. Did she know? Had Meffod discovered his duality and informed Sarah? Her dark, furious look would make sense, more than if she was jealous over him dancing with Forsythia. Jareth had to make this right somehow. In the past few days, Sarah had started thawing towards him. He couldn't lose her. Not now that he had got a taste of the real Sarah, who saw him without his glamour.

When he learnt of his destined marriage to Sarah, he had been thrilled at not having to romance a tiresome fae. He rejoiced at having someone who he would have immense power over - a mortal under his command. Mortals remained susceptible to enthrallment with fae-kind. Sarah claiming that Jareth 'had no power' over her, had made the opposite true. It had also made him enraged. Following his time in the company of Sarah, he had changed his tune, discovering what he authentically coveted: an equal match. Despite his words to the contrary all those years ago, she was a match for him. Sarah was his match in every way. And he would be damned if he lost her to the Pinnsburrs.

He didn't know what drew him so deeply to her. Fae were capricious creatures who would tire of their mortal playthings, and while captivated by her, his interest only increased daily. He desired her, possibly more than any other creature he had lain with during centuries past, but attraction only took someone so far. He craved her company more than anything.

Jareth startled as he lost the current, and started toppling towards the ground. Righting himself with ease, he beat his wings faster to reconvene with the pearl. He had just made a daunting discovery: he needed friendship with Sarah. He wanted more from her, of course, but his priority was her friendship, first and foremost. He hadn't realised at the time, but for some unfathomable reason, Hoggle had nettled him during Sarah's run. Now he discerned that he had been jealous of him, and his easy companionship.

Jareth would renounce all else just to have Sarah in his life. Despite being a passionate creature who could not disregard his carnal-appetite completely, he valued Sarah over his amorous coital exploits. Was he, Jareth the Goblin King, willing to remain celibate for the rest of his existence just to keep Sarah in his life? Stranger things have happened. The idea was admirable while they were in their current crisis mode, but he wasn't sure it was a practice he could sustain for all his entire future.

However, love was a force that was deep and dangerous and unexplored. It had the power to sway immovable objects. It had the strength to crush hearts, hopes and dreams. Mortals lived and died by love. Jareth was learning he was not immune. It had changed him. An implacable, ruthless and cruel being was willing to risk his everything for the woman he had grown to adore, had always cherished, had loved before he had even met her.

Just when he was assuming they would never arrive at their destination, the pearl took a nose-dive. Jareth saw the faint gleam of a foothill fort below them. He shadowed the pearl in its descent, landing on a windowsill, seeing Sarah illuminated by a single candle in the dark cell. In the wake of the light, he saw her hanging from the ceiling and ground by chains. Her head was down, and he could see that she was battered and bruised, vomit leaking down her chin, and her dress was soiled, an unmistakable puddle on the floor under her torn skirts. His insides clenched and his fury peaked.

He melted through the glass as if it were water. Sarah hesitantly raised her head to look upon him. She may be beaten and strung up like an offering to the gods, but by bog, her eyes held that defiant green fire he had come to love.

The noise at the window was an owl; a barn owl. Specifically Jareth, the barn owl. Why was he there? Sarah hadn't summoned him. He transformed in front of her, perched on the window sill in his humanoid form.

"Sarah," he said in undertones.

"Why are you here?" Sarah coughed, her throat constricting from dehydration.

"To rescue you, of course," Jareth peered around the cell, before running his eyes over her form. His face etched with tight lines, his lips thin downward curves.

"This is a trap," Sarah warned him, peeling her tongue off the roof of her mouth.

"I am aware," he shrugged. "I can feel the magic, but it is neither here nor there."

"Why did you do it?"

"What?" Jareth probed. "Rescue you?"

"No," she choked out. "Did you hate me so much?"

"Hate you, Sarah?" he leaned forward, knitting his brows. "I never -"

"You need to go," Sarah shifted her weight on the chains. "They will be back soon."

"I am not leaving," he said sternly, as he produced a crystal, holding it up for her to see. "This will send you home."

"You got your revenge," she went on, her voice breaking. "This should be the icing on the cake for you."

Jareth closed his eyes, opening them again to display a whorl of emotion dancing in their depths. "You know about Terry."

"I know he isn't real," Sarah spat.

"Sarah-," he started.

"No," Sarah looked away, shifting yet again in pain. "Just go."

Jareth snarled. "I will not have you making a martyr of yourself, Sarah Williams."

"I don't need your help," Sarah muttered feebly.

"If I jump in there it will trigger a signal," Jareth scanned the room again. "Your captors - your abusers will come instantly."

"So don't jump in," she implored, gesturing towards the crystal with her free hand. "It's a trap. I'm just your bait for some, quite frankly, baffling reason. It's you they want, not me."

"Why didn't you summon me, Sarah?" he stared at the crystal on the plinth with an expression that exhibited a mixture of solemnity, curiosity and inscrutability. Aside from her misgivings that he may not have even come, she couldn't let herself be accountable for inviting him to his possible death.

"It's a trap," Sarah reiterated. "Now fuck off."

Sarah was outraged with his sham. Despite his duplicity, Jareth had, on occasion, shown her genuine kindness. As 'Terry', he had been exceptionally kind. That, of course, had been a ruse, but as Jareth, he had been almost warm, almost friendly with her. Sarah had observed something of Terry in his manner. She wouldn't let him suffer at the hands of these two, just because of her vexation.

"Sarah," I know you're angry with me," he supplicated. "And I deserve your anger, but why are you putting me before yourself right now?"

"It is not ethical to let you risk your life, just to save mine," she explained, her voice almost giving up the ghost. "It's not fair."

"You do not get to decide how I risk my life, Precious," Jareth intoned. "Though I am flattered."

Sarah groaned in pain.

"Enough, we can argue some more later," he growled. "I will release you from the chains from here."

He sent a crystal soaring through the air towards Sarah. The glass sphere bounced off the chains, landing with a heavy thunk on the stone ground. It spun in circles across the floor, before dissolving into mist. Sarah was still in chains. Jareth cursed.

"I don't need rescuing," she bit out.

"My pride got you into this situation," Jareth avowed. "Do not let your pride keep you here."

Sarah felt another wave of pain wash over her, making her drift momentarily out of consciousness.

"Sarah," Jareth called.

"Please fuck off," she slurred, regaining sentience.

"I can't release you from here," he cursed. "I am going to have to come to you. Once you are free of the chains, take my crystal, think of where you want to go, and leave. No matter what happens to me."

"It's a trap," she bored her eyes into his. "They won't just let you breeze on back home."

"I know."

"Then why are you planning on replacing my life with yours?" she snapped. "You've already proven my life is of little consequence to you."

"For once in your life, shut up and listen to me," he stormed. "Do not defy me. Follow my instructions. You will accept my aid, and after that, you can spend the rest of your life hating me. But right now, the monstrous crimes I have committed against you, do not matter. Only your life matters, Sarah. Do you hear me?"

Sarah just swallowed, her parched mouth making it come out as a gasp.

"Right," he shifted on the sill, hands gripping the edge, ready to pounce. And pounce he did. Jareth lunged across the cell, landing silently in front of Sarah. "They will now know I am here."

He waved his hands to dissolve the chains, first her legs, then her arms. Jareth wrapped his arms around her waist to ease her onto solid ground, just as the door burst open. Sarah chose that moment to vomit all over his boots. Jareth paid it no mind.

Meffod and Yarbro stood there cackling. Their success painted on both faces.

"She didn't even summon you, Goblin King, but you found her anyway," Meffod said with derisiveness. "How sweet."

Jareth ignored them, placing a crystal in Sarah's hands, still supporting her. "Think of where you want to go, Sarah," he whispered into her ear. "Do it now."

"You don't think you can escape that easily do you?" Meffod scorned, stepping forward.

"Sarah, now."

"What about you?" Sarah gulped down her indecision, the acrid taste of bile strong in her mouth.

"You foolish child," Meffod mocked, taking another step. "The magic here is too powerful for him to escape."

"Sarah, I am using all my strength to keep the portal open for you," he muttered through clenched teeth. "This is the key, now use it."

"What about you?" Sarah asked again. Meffod and Yarbro were kept away by some invisible force. Sarah assumed this was Jareth's doing as well.

"Don't worry about me," he gasped, his face suddenly chalky and sallow, both pupils reduced to mere pinpricks. Sarah had never seen him sweat, but he now had torrents flowing over his brow and down his neck. The magic that he fought and spent was costing him. "Use it now, Sarah. Live your life well."

Sarah couldn't just leave him, despite her resentment of him, but she could see Jareth was willing to sacrifice himself for her, and she shouldn't let him do that in vain. She clasped the ball in her palm, looking into his haggard and strained face.

"You better live so I can finish killing you myself," she threatened.

"Precious -" was all he could manage, his eyes never shifting from her face. Sarah could feel him trembling against her. With a sigh, she thought about the Labyrinth throne room, closing her eyes, squeezing the ball tight. She felt Jareth release her, the earth canting, and when she opened her eyes, she was alone in the darkened throne room. Sarah's limbs, unsteady from her rough handling, buckled, crumpling her body upon the chilly, granite floor.

She heard booted click-clacks pounding across the floor. Jareth must have been able to escape. She rolled her head to the side to see dark grey boots in front of her, stopping short of a fresh pool of vomit.

"Where is he?" a similar cadence to Jareth, but it was not the Goblin King. The voice belonged to Sevlydi. Sarah groaned, rolling onto her back to look up at the face of her villain's brother.

"The Pinnsburrs kidnapped me," she rubbed her eyes, careful of the cuts and bruises that littered her body. "He freed me, but they have him now."

"Where?" Sevlydi asked with urgency. "Where did they take you?"

"I don't know," Sarah sobbed, feeling the blame. Sarah should never have left Jareth. "It was a cell. That's all I know."

Sevlydi swore under his breath, marching back and forth. He summoned a crystal, bidding for Jareth, but it remained transparent. Sarah groaned in agony, bringing his attention back to her.

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm just peachy," Sarah muttered dryly.

"I will summon a healer," Sevlydi said blandly. As he crafted another crystal, he explained that everyone had left after the ball, except Sarah's friends, the Spriggets, and the trio. To them, he had extended his hospitality to spend the night in the castle.

"Sarah," came the voice of Hoggle. He galloped into the throne room, as fast as his stubby legs would allow. He stalled as he took in her battered form. "Thank the bog, you're safe, but where is the rat?"

"Hoggle," Sarah cried, sitting up as much as her aching body could manoeuvre. He couldn't be the healer, Sevlydi just summoned, could he? "He stayed behind to get me to safety. It was a trap to capture him."

Guilt made her tone apprehensive and contrite. Sevlydi shifted in her eye line, and she knew he would impute her too.

"He did the right thing," Sevlydi left her speechless. "If they wanted Jareth, you would have become collateral damage. He can take care of himself, but they would have tortured you or killed you, just to subject him to torment."

"I'd have thought he would have rejoiced, not be wretched," Sarah muttered cynically. "Doesn't sound much like torture for him."

Sevlydi scoffed. "You live in denial."

"I may not likes the rat, Sarah," Hoggle asserted. "But I saw him after they stoles you. He was scared. And he called Hoggle, Hoggle."

"How did he find you?" Sevlydi changed the subject.

Sarah shrugged. "The Pinnsburrs seemed surprised by that as well."

"He used a pearl," Hoggle said abruptly. "I saws him fly out his window following a glowing pearl."

"Jareth would have asked the pearl to bring him to you," Sevlydi paced like a caged lion, glaring at the ground like it had offended him, personally. "There would be a spell, of course."

He brought his eyes up from the ground, to survey her face.

"How would a pearl -"

"Now isn't the time to argue with whether you believe me or not," he remonstrated. "If Jareth found you, using the pearl, then you can find him the same way."

"I don't -"

"Look in the crystal he gave you," Sevlydi strode closer to her. She lifted the glass ball that was still clasped in her hand, peering inside to corroborate the truth. Front and centre lay the purple and green pearl, shimmering in all its magnificence.

Sevlydi took the orb from Sarah's outstretched hand, dropping it against the stone floor. Sarah flinched as it splintered but accepted the pearl as he relinquished it to her.

"So you can use this to find him?" Sarah inspected the pearl. Compared to her bracelet, this one shone with indescribable radiance. She shoved the feelings at her comprehension that she was holding the bridal-pearl in her very hands.

"No, only you can," Sevlydi clarified.

Sarah wanted to eat, drink and have a bath followed by a lie-down, not travel miles in the pursuit of a pearl.

"She ain't going anywhere until she has seen the healer," Hoggle interjected.

"The healer is here now," said a red-bearded man, entering the room. "Lady Sarah, I am Gilo, your healer today."

Sarah had never seen a bearded-fae, but his pointy ears indicated he wasn't human. Gilo must have seen her look of curiosity.

"I am an elf, Miss," he said, kneeling next to her. Sarah nodded in acknowledgement, while Gilo started working on her ailments. "What happened to you?"

"When I woke up after my kidnapping, I was chained up and covered in bruises," Sarah enlightened him. "I don't know how I received cuts and bruises. No recollection at all."

After Gilo had run some unobtrusive tests, he had determined most of her pain, her hunger, fatigue, nausea and thirst were just enchantments. He gave her some tonics for the dehydration and starvation, before declaring that while unconscious, no-one had raped her. Sarah felt abundantly better, despite her arm still hurting, and the vomit and urine splattered on her dress.

Gilo left her alone in the presence of Hoggle and Sevlydi. Hoggle produced a clean dress and, with a wave of his hand, Sevlydi exchanged her sullied articles for the fresh one.

"Now let us get to work," Sevlydi closed a book he had been reading. "I know the spell, and you just need to ask the pearl to show you to Jareth."

"And then we just walk thousands of miles for weeks until we hunt him down," Sarah scorned. "Simple."

Sevlydi rolled his eyes before turning slightly to the side, slowly revealing a pair of large feathered wings trailing down his back. "I glamour my wings so people can't see them, but it is my magical quirk. Like your Jareth has his owl form, I got these instead."

Sarah closed her mouth with a snap. He resembled characters from the movie Dogma, that she had seen trailers for before she left the Aboveground, except blonde, and in no way an angel.

"So you send the pearl on its merry way, while I carry you," he instructed.

"Does everyone have their magical quirks?" Sarah asked, clutching her aching arm.

"Most have something that sets them apart," Sevlydi stepped closer to her, his wings twitching in anticipation for their flight. "Jareth has his owl form and his dream keeping. Dream keeping is not so much a quirk as it is a rare talent."

Hoggle coughed from the window, where he had been standing guard. "The dawn is coming."

"Ask the pearl to lead you to Jareth," Sevlydi prompted.

"Please lead me to Jareth," Sarah stuttered over saying his name, feeling like she had no right to say it. Sevlydi said the spell words as the pearl hovered above her hand and then waited for them at the window.

Sevlydi wrapped his arms around Sarah when they both stood perched on the window sill.

"Are you ready?" he asked. Sarah complied, her eyes shut as he leapt into the pre-dawn skies.

Sarah let out a silent scream as she felt them both plummet to the ground before Sevlydi caught an updraft and had them soaring through the currents directly behind the pearl. The first thing she noticed was how cold it was with the wind whipping her hair, and the gusts from his wings hitting her in the face. Sarah's eyes watered too ferociously to contemplate opening them for too long but when she did the view was breath-taking. It genuinely took her breath away and gave her an overwhelming sense of vertigo.

For the rest of the journey, Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. Eventually, as they slowed into a descent, Sarah braved opening her eyes. Sarah saw, in the murky dawn-light, their supposed final destination, the fort where Jareth was apprehended.

Except it was a burnt ruin. Sevlydi landed gracefully on the remaining stone foundation, letting her go directly. Sarah only saw charred wood, crumbled stone and not a soul in sight. Sarah stepped forward, noting that even the trees were black and blistering in the surrounding foothills. Ash fell like snow upon the site, dissolving into the plumes of smoke rising to meet the skies. Sevlydi immediately commenced calling his brother's name.

Sarah asked the pearl to locate Jareth anew in hushed tones. The jewel fluttered ephemerally, drifting forwards to a considerable volume of scorched, broken timber heaped upon the cracked, scarred ground. Sarah felt her stomach drop out. Sarah crept forward, with her heart in her throat.

When her parents died, Sarah identified their bodies. Consequently, she was no stranger to corpses. Despite that, or because of that, it was unequivocally nerve-wracking. The pearl stopped right at the centre of the pile, so Sarah started pulling out the wood as carefully as she could manage. If he was under here and injured, then she didn't want to make it more critical. While she fancied kicking him where it hurts, she didn't want him to be in mortal peril. Could a fae die? She didn't want to find out.

Aside from needing answers, his treachery didn't warrant Jareth's death. Sarah may be cruel by his reckoning, but she was not the vindictive type. Slowly the pile got smaller, as Sevlydi still searched and called for him on the periphery. She caught sight of something buried within the heap. Holding her breath, she worked a bit faster, still conscious of ensuring there was no cascading wood to make things worse.

She could see the ground now. She had dug to the bottom of the pile of wood.

There wasn't a body.

He wasn't there.

The pearl still hovered over the site, not relinquishing this area as Jareth's final location.

But instead of Jareth, instead of a body, lay a single piece of jewellery.

Lying in amongst the soot and ash, and owl feathers, was Jareth's sickle-shaped medallion.

A/N: Firstly, credit to the fantastic AngelGlass for the Image that accompanies this story. The image contains Jareth and Sarah but also Terry! Big shout out to AngelGlass for her amazing work. So grateful and blown away by her kindness and skill. THANK YOU.

Secondly, another cliffhanger - eek. Chapter 15 is complete and just needs editing (have I mentioned how much I loathe editing?).

Thirdly, thank you, people, who have commented and followed. And if you're from LFFL, extra thank you to you. You guys rock my socks.