It was beyond freezing in the ballroom. This was a nuisance as it was the middle of summer. It should have been sweltering. The crops in the fields were nearly burnt to a crisp but the one night she wanted to wear something without sleeves, it was colder than the Himalayas. Irene felt goosebumps rise beneath the many layers of a deep wine coloured ball gown. 'Curse of the Fae.' Her baba would have warned her. 'Always meddling with the weather, causing storms and whatnot.'

Her fingers had gone numb the moment she had sat down in her throne to regally greet the guests. She would much rather be in a warm bath, with a good book and a nice quality glass of champagne, but it was her duty to on an icy throne until her bottom froze solid, greeting the people of the court.

The Lady Irene glance imperviously over to her husband, Robert, who was laughing merrily at something an odd man with a pointed black beard had told him. He seemed to be having a good time at least.

Once again gazing about the beautifully lit golden ball room and nodding slightly to anyone she made eye contact with Irene finally caught sight of the green clad Sarah floating awkwardly to and fro with the young Phillip. His face, Irene shuddered, was rather nastily swollen from the other day and on closer inspection was probably oozing puss.

Her step-daughter looked as if she were about to throw up. Irene would have probably looked the same if she had that boy had been trying to peer down her dress all night.

Irene nearly jumped out of her seat when Robert leaned over, patting her hand.

"Young love." He said fondly, nodding to the dancing couple.

Irene wrinkled her nose. Partly at the thought of Sarah having to marry the gangly child, but also because she had just remember that said gangly child smelt faintly of pickles, which would be making the ordeal even more painful for her poor little girl.

"Reminds me of her mother, she does." Her husband continued, "So beautiful and wild."

Occasionally mentally deranged, Irene added, thinking back to their first encounter together.

Leaving Robert to his memories, Irene turned back to the girl, who had switched partners and was now gracefully twirling in the arms of a stunningly poised man who was probably wearing more make-up than Irene had ever owned in her life.

If she had just been judging from his hair Irene would have suggested that he had been dragged back wards no less than twice though a bush but his clothing was impeccable. He was wearing dark, well-fitted breeches, with sturdy leather boots. Over a dark grey vest he wore a silver dress jacket, which nicely complemented Sarah's green. Where she was soft, gentle and flowing, he was hard, angular and sharp. In his button hole sat a matching tea green rose.

Something akin to an itch settled in Irene's mind. It was strange. The man hadn't been formally introduced to him, and yet he was obviously royalty of some sort. The thought gnawed away at her.

Irene tugged on her husband's sleeve to get his attention.

"Who's that man over there, dancing with the Princess?"

Roberts eyes skipped over the pair (The male, Irene's lips tightened as she noted with some disapproval, had gotten rather intimate with his caresses) with a total lack of interest and even slight indifference towards his daughter.

"Oh, that's just the Goblin King with his lady." He answered vaguely, "He was planning on asking for her hand in marriage this evening. Capital fellow. Charming couple! Couldn't be any happier for him."

Irene's eye brows shot low over her eyes in confused concern.

"But that's your daughter!" She hissed though clenched teeth.

Robert sat rigid in his throne, his pale eyes glassy.

"That's nice dear."

Irene felt as if someone had replaced all the air with treacle as she watched the Goblin King had swiftly leave the dance floor, with Sarah stirring woozily in his arms.

Without a second thought she followed after them.

Alarm bells were screaming in the woman's head as she frantically wadded through dancing crowd to the other side of the room.

Sarah was in danger, the alarm bells warned over and over again.

Irene finally broke through the ranks of dancers and hurried to the balcony, dreading what she would find there.

The night air was crisp and the sun's final rays hovered just above the horizon.

Her Sarah was sprawled across the ground, dress pooling around her, bare feet peeking out from the lacy trim. Her beautiful, dark hair had come undone at some point during the night and fanned about her face, which had turned as pale as the flowers adorning her hair.

The King of the Goblin's had the length of his body pressed against hers and was coaxingly murmuring her name.

Irene heard a piercing, furious scream.

Her own?

A fierce anger bubbled beneath her surface.

"GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BASTARD!"

Before Irene had even registered what she had done, she shoved the man off her step-daughter, with a grunt and had begun to cradle the child soothingly, stroking the damp mass of curls away from her burning forehead.

Sarah's breathing was ragged. Her breast rising and falling in sharp, painful puffs. Her face was damp from tears.

"Mother?"

The child's lips trembled. If she had wanted to, Irene could have counted each individual lash on the girl's eyelid.

"I'm here, Sarah. I'm here."

Bitter sobs racked the child's body, Every breath costing her.

"It hurts."

Irene felt her throat closing over.

"I know. I know."

Rising her green eyes to the heavens, the girl let out a feeble, strained laugh.

"Look Irene. The stars. Don't they look very different today."

Letting out a final shuddering breath, the child's taunt body sagged against her, gleamless eyes still turned to the stars.

The Goblin King, who had remained a silent and imposing figure for this spectacle, lithely reached forward and plucked the child from Irene's grasp and gathered her in his arms, softly brushing his lips against the head lolled against his chest.

Irene felt the anger re-ignite within her. She snarled at this horrible man.

"What did you do to her? Fix her! Change it back. NOW!"

A small group of gatherers had crowded behind her, watching the scene with interest. Usually the most exciting thing to happen at one of these events was marriage proposal. A murder on the other hand...

The Goblin King haughtily raised a frosted eye brow, brushing an imaginary speck of lint off the Princess's gown.

"This isn't my doing." He drawled.

"I don't care if it's the MAN ON THE MOON'S FAULT!" She shrilled, "You knew exactly what was happening when you dragged her out here and YOU WILL FIX IT!"

The Goblin King didn't even bat and eyelid, merely moving the Princess so that she lay slightly more comfortably in his arms.

"Tell me Goblin King," The Lady Irene's voice turned mockingly inquisitive. "Do you usually molest girls half your age?"

The crowd oohed at the back-handed comment and no less than five women fluttered their fans in a scandalised manner.

A feral grin slowly spread across the King's face.

"She is sixteen. A woman in the eyes of the court." He said, purposefully tilting Sarah's lifeless form so that his lips were a fraction from hers. His eyes trailed down the length of her green dress.

"I've had the right to this enticing little thing since before she was born."

If there wasn't a crowd before there was one now. The Goblin King (Irene was liking this show pony less and less by the minute) had slid his hand into the curve of the departed girl's back and was making good use of the pale throat displayed to him, hungrily moving his mouth back and forth.

Almost like a dance, Irene thought with gross fascination. She was snapped out of this thought by a woman near the back who sounded as if she was having an orgasm. Fantastic, she groaned inwardly, shooting the woman a disgusted look, not only is a pedophilic Fae in attendance this evening but also a a noble woman who finds necrophillia a turn on. If chivalry is dead then it's most certainly rolling in it's grave.

"Unhand the Princess Sarah, or you shall suffer the consequences."

The wild King scoffed, burying his face in the girls untamed curls of hair.

"I very much doubt that."

Irene smiled with a grim satisfaction. Robert had grown distressed at the sight of his daughter and had to be escorted out of the room. Ironically, the doctor's had given him a sleeping draught.

She was back in the God forsaken freezing throne but this time she had the Goblin King bound in irons at her feet. He had ruined a perfectly good ball, drugged her innocent step-daughter and now she was going to bring him to justice. With Robert out of the room he was completely at her mercy. The court watched sombrely on as the King lounged insolently before her, Sarah still clasped in his arms.

The shadows slithered around the walls restlessly.

According to the physician's, she was still breathing and a faint pulse could be found but they had not yet found away to pull her free without harming her and even with the iron dampening his powers and only using one hand, the King of the Goblin's had amazingly managed to take down three guards.

Irene could have sworn that she glimpsed a beady red eye glaring at her from the corner but she shook it off as sleeplessness. Turning to the gathering of colourful courtesans, she addressed the rogue.

"Jareth," her voice boomed throughout the ballroom," High Fae lord and King of the Goblins, Do you have anything to say in your defence regarding the accusation that you poisoned the Princess Sarah after she rejected you."

The Goblin King yawned in an exceedingly bored, arrogant manner. Irene quenched the urge to grit her teeth.

"Pray tell, your highness, Why would I poison the woman I wish to marry, if she hadn't even rejected me?"

Irene sat, with her mouth agape.

"... She didn't reject you? Why is she like this? You said if she turned down your advances then she would fall into a death like state. I was there Goblin King. I remember."

The King arched his back languidly, rolling his eyes to the ceiling in disbelief. With an afterthought he shifted the slumbering girl so she was nestled comfortably between the hollow of his neck and his shoulder.

"You remember, Irene?" He asked pleasantly, "I'm so glad I made such an impression! Did you have your eyes on the weak fool's kingdom then or were just there to honour my Queen?"

Irene's nostrils flared.

"Linda was MY FRIEND! I never even looked at Robert that way until... It matter's not."

King Jareth shrugged lightly, twitching a few stray hairs from Sarah's face.

"Of course not... It's only..."

The Goblin King tapped his chin thoughtfully with his free hand, iron links clinking in the silent throne room.

"Linda, Linda, Linda. There's a name I know... But where from?"

A small, fiendish gleam lit the Wild King's eyes, and he gently nuzzled the sleeping Sarah, inhaling deeply. Noticing Irene stiffening at his actions he smirked, sparing her a small wink before continuing.

"Ah yes! I remember now... Linda."

His voice came out a low purr.

"The last Queen... I do believe she died of insanity. I wonder how this one will fare."

His comment seemed to be aimed at the unconscious Princess, but Irene felt a small thrill of fear run through her.

"Enough Goblin King! You can do nothing to me while in those iron chains."

His lips quirked into an amused smile.

"No. I suppose you're right. I am totally and completely powerless against you. My subjects on the other hand..."

A woman shrieked as her saffron coloured skirt was flipped over his head. All over the room wine flutes shattered in the hands of unsuspecting nobles. Fires were setting off left, right and centre. Pranks were being pulled on even the most rigid of Dukes. The windows had slammed open. When Irene thought it couldn't get any worse she heard a mournful bleat from beside her. Turning around she found herself face to face with a rather distressed looking goat.

Irene looked over to the King who looked in the least bit fazed, and then back at the goat.

"Make this stop." She hissed.

The Goblin King shrugged elegantly, "Let me free."

"Fine!"

She glared at the man with as much contempt as she could muster while her ballgown was being munched on by a goat.

"But," she added, "Only, if you leave Sarah here. No using your magic to whisk here away to heavens knows where."

The King sighed wistfully, toying with one of Sarah's dark curls.

"If I must."

As quickly as the chaos started, it stopped.

King Jareth held out an expectant hand, the iron glinting dully.

"Well?"

Irene gestured to a guard stationed at the door. Hesitantly, the hulking man scurried forward. When he got within spitting distance to the prisoner, The King snarled, showing rows of pointed teeth. With a rather feminine yelp, the guard tossed the key to the Goblin King and scampered off.

Free from his chains, the Fae King rubbed his wrists ruefully, before scooping up Sarah back up.

"I am now going to escort my beloved back to her chamber's. If any of you simpleton's so much as touch her I can promise you a less than swift and most painful end."

He strode purposefully to the grand exit, and Irene scurried after him. Just as she and the King reached the door, a voice called out from the crowd.

"Wait!"

Irene heard King Jareth groan quietly and mutter something along the lines of:

"Now what?"

Only with more colourful language.

Turning around Irene saw the young Prince Phillip staggering from the crowd. The goblin's it seemed had seen fit to strip him down to his undergarments, and across his chest in brown sticky letter's someone had scrawled the word "PIG."

Only the 'G' was backwards.

"What about True Love's Kiss? Surely that would break the spell!"

The Goblin King lip curled.

"Why yes! Of Course! 'True Love's Kiss!' Why hadn't I thought of that?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. The Prince looked affronted.

"We could at least try? Who knows who the Princess may have fallen for?"

The Goblin King had already started walking up the stairs and Irene hurried to catch up with him.

"Don't flatter yourself." He called to the boy without looking back.

Reaching the top of the staircase, The Goblin King kicked the door open and absent mindedly, Irene wondered how much that would cost to fix.

The King of the Goblin had already strolled though the sitting parlour through to the bedroom, Sarah still hanging limply in his arms.

Irene tore her gaze from the door, and briskly trotted after him.

In the room, the pale white colours seeming oddly clinical, The Goblin King had carefully lain out his Queen and appeared to be talking with her.

"Not exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to get you into bed, dear one." He crooned fondly, entwining his gloved fingers with hers. Irene fingered the goat hole in her wine coloured dress, trying to ignore the intimate moment.

"No matter, I can wait."

Gently pressing his mouth to the sleeping girl's forehead, The Goblin King disappeared in a flurry of glitter, which blew away.

How the hell did he a wind get in? Irene pondered as she made her way back to the ballroom.

Inside chaos reined supreme. Although the goblin's were clearly gone, everyone was crowding around a single point in the room. Some were solum, some were laughing.

Straightening her dress as best as she could, Irene squared her shoulders giving off a collected air of power.

"My fair consorts, the threat has been dealt with. Why are we standing around braying like animals?"

This bought more laughter but the crowd parted, Gentlemen gwauffing and Ladies tittering behind feather fans.

In the centre, the King Hubert of Bristonia was sobbing, next to him a spotted pig snuffled about. Irene noted a strange stripped pattern on one side of the pig's face.

"The monster Goblin King," Hubert wailed, "He turned my only heir into a pig."

ASASASASASASASASASASASASASSASASASASASASASASASASASAS

A/N: Guess who's back? Back again. Shady's back. Tell a friend. T

his is just a little tie up of some loose knots. Irene is frazzled that's why she's so informal. (Actually I just couldn't get into character)

Jareth kissing the 'dead' Sarah is totally justifiable as he is based off Heathcliff and well... Yeah... He won't go as fair as Heathcliff.

Probably.

Does this mean Phillip is gone forever and ever? Yes. Thank-you for that review telling me that I put 'starring' instead of 'staring,' (*grumbles* why to ruin the moment with your bad grammar Manning).