The stir came two months later and the speed at which Jareth found himself answering Sarah's call could only be described as ridiculously eager. Despite the promise he had made himself to leave her be, it had been impossible to focus on his duties. His kingdom was in worse shape than ever, and a rumor was circulating that his goblins were conspiring with the chickens to form an uprising.

To put it simply; he had far more important things to focus on. A single mortal girl had no business occupying the headspace of the King of the Goblins. And yet...when her call came he was all too eager to answer.

He appeared in the shadows of her room. It was late into the night in the mortal realm. Two familiar voices could be heard yelling downstairs, soon followed by a crash. Jareth imagined a vase or something of the like had been thrown against the wall and shattered.

He cast his eyes to the bed and was unsurprised to see a form huddled under the sheets. Sarah was softly crying, curled up in the exact same position he had seen her in many nights ago.

Watching her in distress yet again sent a pang through his chest, which was quickly followed by a wave blood-boiling anger. Why couldn't her parents see for one second how their bickering and self-obsession was hurting this sweet child? How did they only think of themselves and never of the pain they were putting their daughter through?

Quelling the rage inside of him, as it would do nothing to aid Sarah in this moment, he stepped forward and out of the shadows. With a flick of his wrist, the music box he had gifted her came to life and began to play. The young girl flinched at the sudden sound and turned around to stare at the box with a puzzled expression.

"If a brave heroine must cry, then she should request a shoulder to cry upon." Jareth spoke softly so as not to spook her.

Sarah looked up from her music box. She did not seem surprised to see him even after such a long while. However, her reaction surprised him. Instead of continuing to cry or denying she had even done so in the first place, she raised a small hand to her face and wiped her tears away.

"A hero never shows her weakness to others," she said in a small but definitive voice.

Jareth was momentarily startled into speechlessness. She was so young, and yet so full of determination. She kindled a fire as hot as any sun within her chest. It was what drew him in like a moth to a flame.

"Of course. My apologies." His tone, while formal, was edged with kindness. He strode over to Sarah's bedside and kneeled in front of her. "However, my Lady may talk of her troubles if she wishes to. Every great hero sometimes must turn to a friend."

Sarah sat up in bed, contemplating his offer. He allowed her as much time as she needed. He would not rush her. Slowly, her gaze found its way back to the music box. The little dancer twirled with the music. But even as she watched it, it was clear her mind was far away.

After a length of time, her voice carried over to him in a whisper, "I'm scared."

Her admission did not come as a surprise.

"What are you scared of, pet?" When she hesitated, he quietly pressed, "Are you scared your mother and father will hurt each other?"

Sarah looked to her lap. Her fingers twisted and curled into her bedspread. When she bowed her head he was sure he had hit a bullseye.

"I'm scared they don't love me," she softly admitted.

Oh... Jareth slowly inhaled, his throat constricting. Love. Love was one of those human emotions he never quite understood. He had firsthand experience with obsession and he could admit to affection, but love was too foreign. Love was almost exclusively a human emotion. It was too complicated; even by Fae standards. Love was completely irrational, blinding, and mind-controlling. The Fae people had long given up on trying to understand the concept. In many communities it was considered dangerous.

He himself had, on many occasions, boasted that he had never harbored love for anything. He loved nothing and no one- not even his crown.

Yet here he was, faced with an entirely pure form of love.

The love a child craved from her parents.

Jareth didn't know what to say. He had to admit to himself that he hadn't once observed what he could consider a true sign of love from Mr. and Mrs. Williams towards their daughter.

Surely they did love her, he reasoned desperately. But, then again, perhaps not. There was no written rule that a parent must love their child. Raise and care for them, yes, but love...

As Sarah gazed into his eyes, her own pleading with him for reassurance, he felt his heart splinter.

Without thinking, the King reached out his arms and wrapped the girl in a tender embrace.

"Oh, you precious thing," he murmured. Sarah pressed her tiny face into the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around him tightly. It was not long before he felt searing tears fall upon his skin.

He simply didn't understand. Sarah was such a perfect child. She was sweet, compassionate, and darling. She enjoyed playing and laughing and exploring the outdoors. How could one find her any less than entertaining? Why couldn't her parents realize the blessing they had been given? What did they want from her? Did they want a mannered child? Such only took a basic level of teaching. Hell, even he had been able to coach her into giving a simple "thank you."

Jareth sighed as the little form in his arms continued to cry. It was no use to try and lie to her. Sarah knew the truth.

Adults so often underestimated how perceptive children could be. Sarah knew, without anyone having to explain it to her, that her parents did not truly love her.

With another heavy sigh, he shifted so he could lift Sarah into the air before he settled down with his back against her headboard. He cradled the girl in his lap as she sniffled, wrapping his arms around her protectively.

"They don't deserve you," he murmured as he placed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

The king felt a sudden and intense wave of hatred for her parents. Why was it they had been blessed with a healthy and beautiful child when his kind had difficulty even conceiving?

Any Fae family would give everything they had for a little girl as perfect as Sarah.

Inhaling slowly, Jareth raised a hand and ran it through the young girl's silky hair. Her tears were slowly ebbing away, leaving her cheeks stained red. Her dark lashes drooped with exhaustion and her body slowly began to go limp in his arms.

Any Fae family would give everything they had for her...but Sarah deserved so much better than an ordinary home.

She deserved the best.

She deserved the world.

She deserved to be a princess.

Yes, Jareth thought.

Finally exhausted from her crying, Sarah drifted into a fretful sleep in his arms. He slowly, carefully, adjusted their positions until he could tuck her beneath her sheets without disturbing her. He stayed by her side a little longer, gently running his hand over her back.

If her parents do not want her, he thought, then I shall make her mine.