Knowing what was wrong with her made dealing with it that much easier. Every time she felt that now-familiar anger rise, or felt the urge to strike out at somebody, Sarah reminded herself that it wasn't her. The anger she felt, the sudden shift in mood-none of it was her. Sarah found it easier to hunker down and wait for it to pass after Belinda's revelation.

"Think of it like melting ice," Belinda advised. "It remembers its previous shape, but if you give it enough time, it will reform itself in your image."

So Sarah gave it time.

The goddess might have died, but she left her mark on her power, the thing that survived her. Sarah intended to make it her own, if she was going to have to live with it. And what better way to make it her own than to use it?

It wasn't something that she could bend easily to her will, but now that she knew how to approach it-coaxing it rather than using it like a tool-it went much smoother. After a while she was even able to have polite conversations with Jareth and enjoy herself. On one or two notable occasions, she even got him to crack a genuine smile, which was something she hadn't seen in a long time. Sarah realized that in trying to muddle through her problems alone, she had done far more damage than she ever intended. It would, no doubt, be an uphill battle to fix whatever relationship they'd had last.

Belinda taught her how to see different types of magics, to pluck at the strings around her and tweak them as she wished.

"You'd never be a weaver," Belinda remarked with a smirk. "But if you worked at it for another hundred years or so, you might make a passable fortune teller."

Hearing Belinda's words, Sarah pulled herself from the tide of magic and rolled her eyes. It was easy to see why Belinda had something of a superiority complex. Not only did she traverse a web of magic and fates that made Sarah dizzy to even think about, but she was one of only three beings who could do so. The fact that the other two effectively disowned her meant little in the face of it all. Every now and then the weaver-witch would say something that reminded Sarah that Belinda had had a hand in everything that had happened in the world. Whatever calamitous events or beautiful victories Sarah could name, they all bore the fingerprints of Belinda or her sisters. It was humbling-and sometimes annoying, when Belinda threw it out casually.

Belinda's training granted Sarah other knowledge as well. Whenever Belinda's mind wandered-whenever she started talking in riddles or quotes-it meant she had followed the threads too far. it happened to Sarah, once; as an exercise, she tried looking a few days ahead into the life tapestry of a nearby rabbit and quickly found herself drowning. Multiple paths spread out in front of her, all clamoring to be viewed at once. One stood out, strong and shining, and Sarah reached out for it only to be pulled back at the last moment.

She returned from her daze cold and clammy, and immediately rolled over to dry heave.

"Taliesin got sick after her first attempt too," said Belinda, who was holding Sarah's hair back for her. When nothing came up, Belinda let it fall back around Sarah's face.

"I never want to do that again," Sarah croaked, still reeling from the experience. She rolled away from Belinda so she faced the sun, and then closed her eyes. As soon as the world stopped spinning, she was sure she would feel better.

"Where do you think she is?" Sarah asked after a beat of silence. "All of this is to find her, right? But you never talk about her." She closed her mouth tight, fighting another wave of nausea. Belinda remained silent until Sarah cracked one eye open to look at her.

"The tapestry that your life-in everyone else's lives, too-is woven into is a finite thins. I saw, once day, that one of my sisters allowed for it to be swallowed up in a void. I wasn't going to allow that to happen, so I set certain things in motion." Belinda gave Sarah a fleeting, unreadable look.

"You know what happened next," the weaver said, motioning towards Sarah's wrist. "As long as my sisters control the loom, thy will try to finish the tapestry, if we want to continue with that analogy. And if the tapestry is completed…" She fluttered her hands, imitating something being blown away in the wind.

Sarah opened her mouth, intent on telling Belinda that while she might have been the source of much heartache, she was still reason they were there at all.

"Don't misunderstand," Belinda cut Sarah off with a sharp smile. "I am not that generous. A world without Taliesin is not a world I care about. That's all. I like you, and hope that we can call each other friends, but… If I lost Taliesin, I'm not sure I'd care a whole lot about what happened to this world."

The frank callousness in Belinda's voice took Sarah off guard. Of all the things she would have expected her to say, that hadn't really crossed her mind.

"I see," was all Sarah found herself capable of saying. She didn't trust herself to add anything else, or to keep the anger she felt-not Ishtar's memory, this time-from seeping into her voice like acid. It was time, she thought, for a break from Belinda, her magic, her casual inhumanity, and they way she kept looking at Sarah like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

As much as she didn't relish being covered in bruises, perhaps it was time to see if Jareth was still willing to train her. He had been understandably hesitant to after the last debacle, and so Sarah took to trying to access Ishtar's memories. It seemed the goddess was as recalcitrant in death as she likely was in life; whenever Sarah wanted her insight, she never got it.

Without another word, she stood and left Belinda, taking her spear with her. Hopefully Jareth wouldn't make her run laps again while he wandered off, too upset to even look at her.

She found him in the armory, peering at the strange longsword Sarah had passed up that first day back. He looked at it as if it might have been an old friend, once upon a time, but now held bitter memories. Probably something like myself, Sarah thought with a frown. She cleared her throat to announce her presence, and noted how he didn't even jump.

"I don't want to run in circles today," she said. "It was your decision to teach me how to fight, and… I know things didn't exactly go to plan, and we ran into some unforeseen problems, but…" Sarah breathed out, wishing that just for once, she could say what she really meant when he was concerned. He raised a single tapered eyebrow at her, and she could almost hear him say do go on.

"Look, I'm sorry," she finally said, hating how her voice cracked at the end. "I know I've been awful lately, and I hurt your feelings." Way to downplay it, Sarah, she mocked herself. "I had her in my head and I thought I was going crazy. And, my God, does she ever hate you."

Jareth snorted and then picked up the sword. It was strange, to see him wield something that looked so heavy.

"But that's not an excuse. I just wanted you to understand."

Jareth nodded and then notioned for her to leave the armory.

"Ishtar thought to take me as her lover, once," he said, startling Sarah into turning around and looking at him. "But it was my understanding that she was not so kind to those she wanted, and so I refused her. She left. Your ancestor came swooping in, and the rest, as you say, is history. Up," he said, and for a moment Sarah just stared at him, bewildered. "Your spear," he drawled out, as if bored.

Sarah raised her spear into what felt like a defensive stance. Ishtar's fury would come rising to the surface now that sarah was around Jareth, and with it, her ability to mow down an enemy. He lunged for her with an exaggerated and slow movement, and Sarah easily stepped to the side.

"You are nothing like her," he said, nearly catching the side of her head with the flat of his sword in an unexpected swing. her spear, almost as if under its own power, blocked the swing and smacked the sword away. Sarah narrowed her eyes.

"Do not become her," he cautioned.

Sarah landed a light blow to the back of his leg but earned herself a jab in the shoulder from the pommel. Arcs of pain traveled up her arm.

"Do I have a choice?" She asked, finding herself having to retreat from the wide swing of his sword. It didn't seem fair, her fighting with a bronze-age weapon while he had a whole sword-but then, he'd never really been one to play fair. "If I have to kill this other person because some stupid prophecy said I had to-" and there it was, the familiar flicker of red-hot anger. "Do I even have a choice?"

He didn't have an answer for her, and Sarah found out too late that was because he was using her momentary distraction to try and wrest her weapon from her.

"That's not fair!" She protested, barely managing to hang onto she shaft of her spear. In a real fight, she wouldn't have stood a chance against him.

"Your opponent won't be either," he pointed out. "Why else do you think I had you 'running in circles', as you so aptly put it?" Sarah frowned and opened her mouth, looking for an answer.

"There is no chance you'll be ready for a fair fight, so you'd best be prepared to run."

He lunged once, as if to punctuate his words, and Sarah used his change in balance to sweep his feet out from underneath him.

"Ha!" Sarah crowed. "Got you. Finally-"

Except that he had her, again, yanking her ankle so that she tumbled down on top of him. If she had been expecting playful retribution, she was completely and utterly wrong. He rolled her over so that it was her back against the grass, trapping her hips between her knees and holding her face in his hands.

"You will try, won't you?"

Sarah swallowed hard. "What?" she asked, her voice too high to her own ears.

"To win," Jareth clarified. "To stay. As I'm sure you've figured out, Sarah, immortality does not mean what you think it means."

"Oh," Sarah breathed, still trying to figure out how, exactly, they ended up in the position they were in. He lowered his face to hers, and all thought processes stopped dead in their tracks. She was sweaty and bruised and he still wanted to kiss her, even though she tried to kill him not that long ago and was at least partially possessed by the memories of a goddess that had tried to do the same much, much longer ago. And that was just the beginning. Her mind whirled.

"This is so messed up," she sighed, and he sat up to look at her, grinding his hips against hers. Whatever he'd been planning, she'd clearly stopped with her ill-timed words.

"I mean, not this," she waved a hand to indicate their positions. "Well, maybe a little. But thing about everything that's happened. It's a little much, isn't it? And even though-"

He kissed her. Again. And Sarah would have been royally pissed about him using his mouth to shut her up if he hadn't slid his hand up her shirt at the same time, making her gasp.

"Bath," she blurted out when he withdrew for air, face heating in embarrassment. "I mean. A bath. I want to take a bath. Alone," she added when he smirked. He stood and she scrambled out from underneath him, tugging her shirt back down so that it covered her stomach.

A bubble bath. That's what she wanted. Just a few hours to herself without goblins or kisses that clouded her judgement or weavers or prophecies hanging over her head like the sword of Damocles, waiting to fall. She'd never get that back in the forest, and so she found herself slinking away to retreat back to her apartment.

The scent came first, as it often did; Sarah still frequently kept her eyes closed, finding the sudden switch disorienting. It smelled almost like someone was having a barbeque, all smoke and char, and while it wasn't completely unheard of for someone to use a portable grill on their balcony, it didn't seem like the weather was appropriate for it.

Sarah felt heat, and in the space of a heartbeat opened her eyes.

Flames licked at her bedroom door, moving rapidly towards where she stood in her living space. Plumes of smoke rose to the ceiling, and under it all, Sarah could smell kerosene. Shock made her breathe in sharply, which she instantly regretted. Hot smoke filled her lungs, and Sarah bent over, coughing. Forget the bubble bath. She needed to leave, now.

She found herself back at the edge of the forest with very little time to regroup. Belinda was at her side, pushing Ishtar's spear into Sarah's hands. In the forest, goblins screeched. The scent of smoke still lingered in Sarah's nose. In the chaos, Sarah could barely tell up from down or left from right. Everything was too loud, or too bright.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Belinda whispered, stroking Sarah's cheeks while tears streamed down her own. Sarah glanced up, trying to clear her eyes from her own stinging tears.

And there on the horizon stood a warrior wearing an antlered helm.

A/N

So a comedy of errors lead to me double-posting chapter five, and then having to rewrite this chapter from memory. Ah, technology, you fickle beast. And if you think this is all heppening quickly, well, you'd be right.