Chapter Three

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Alaitha made no comment when he returned to their private chambers just as she was leaving, vivid and alluring in ruffled lavender reaching her ankles, as he said nothing to her. She merely pressed a soft kiss on his lips he she passed, acquiescently accepting his silence and trusting her king to fulfill his pan and tell her what he wanted her to know in time. She could not fail to be aware of the mortal presence in their hidden chambers, but she knew well that others did not sense it and she she would be wise to say nothing until he officially revealed the girl. Gossip may amuse, but death did not, and anything a king saw as disloyalty to his will could be labeled as treason.

He had secret Sarah away overnight in a chamber that could only be accessed through shimmering gossamer, a shield as delicate as a silken veil but also impenetrable and even invisible to all but the two of them. Alaitha was not fool enough to believe he did not have other private spaces even she could not find. But Sarah was not a horded possession, but a tool.

She slipped away quietly, pondering the situation only briefly before turning her mind to the organized chaos that was the Fae Court.

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Sarah awoke to a view of dazzling beauty; the appearance of the finest, whitest sands found on exotic shores, sparkling as though in direct sunlight and only occasionally obscured by a corner or shadow.

And that was just the ceiling.

She sat up slowly to take it all in, seeing the live flower-touched vines winding around the posts of her bed, holding the white gauze of a canopy. To her left, a water-feature, a pond from which sprang an ivory statue of a maiden in a simple dress holding her hands down for water to appear centimeters from her cupped palms. The liquid materialized out of thin air as a gift to the crystalline fish.

The far wall simulated the twilight sky, an indefinable color made of many dusky shades, twinkling here and there with early stars, but featured no window, so own assumed this beautiful pillared room was set deeply inside the building.

But seeing all of this reminded her that if it was a lovely dream, it was not own of her own-she had none, and this was in fact the reason for her impulsive visit to another land, whether it was beautiful or not. Jareth had been beautiful, but he was also-

She shook her head. 'No. I won't think of him.'

'But I'm living in Fae-land! What if he sees me?'

"Oh, yeah," she said aloud, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. Maybe he'd be too busy to notice her...what did he do all day long anyway? Maybe he hung around the High King's court. She rubbed her forehead. "Why don't I ever think things through?"

The man-Fae-King...person from the night before appeared between one blink and another to smile down at her, dressed today in dark green to match his eyes, still in the style of a medieval lord; tight pants and a well-made tunic embellished to fit his station.

"Why do you dress like someone out of the Renaissance?" she asked without thinking.

His smile remained, not offended, almost curious. Her awareness of each tangle in her hair and rumple in her clothing rose, but she had no idea of how enticing she was; retaining a look of barely-touched innocence, awakening to her own potential. Very desirable, very much Jareth's type with the frustrating, intriguing mettle in her eyes that itself appealed to the High King. She stared straight up into his face, and he curled his fingers slightly in an effort to resist touching her.

"It is very much the fashion to dress as so many plays, images and storybooks portray us to," he graced her with. "I'm afraid the females among us have discovered the same thing your fine ladies did; the style of dress hampers them."

Her brows flattened out at him in displeasure as he smugly punctured her beloved fantasies. He laughed.

"Ah, Sarah. You are amusing. But entertainment is not the reason I brought you here." He paused, tilting his head and lifting one shoulder briefly as if to say, 'Well, not solely.' "You will come with me."

"Are you...going to introduce me to your people?" she asked nervously, then didn't let him answer. "What do you call this place?"

His lips curved in a fleeting mystified smile. "My citadel. Did you expect some fanciful name? A palace is a palace."

She shook her head. "No, I mean your, your land." She waved a hand helplessly in the air, searching for explanation, sliding her legs over the edge of the bed. "Some people call it names like Faerie or Other." Her expression went distant as her cheeks brightened; her one remaining weakness from her fairytale-dominated childhood was her addiction to risque literature starring dashing supernatural beings from such-named places. Her most dog-eared book featured a silvery-blonde-haired lord of the "children of the moon". Could the High King read her emotions, like those characters?

Well, yes, but only because her poker-face was no match for his experienced reading, truth be told. Her host gazed at her, bemused, as though she were a three year old with the most outlandish idea. "We call it home." He beckoned her follow him, saying nothing about the ridiculousness of humans.

He took her to Alaitha, back from her soiree, and the Queen dressed her expertly in dazzling mint-green material, smooth on the inside but thick as the heavy cotton construction workers wore. "It will help protect you from incidental magic," she said curtly. Seeing the mortal's look she unbent enough to explain further, "Many Fae wear minor spells to draw lovers, or followers, or just to bedazzle. This material will counter the effects." She laced Sarah tightly into it, deliberately hurting her a bit, and smiled as the girl winced.

The walls of the dressing room were the only witness to the transformation from ordinary to extraordinary. Naturally, Sarah was dressed with the simpler lines of a second-class noblewoman, but she remained beautiful in her new dress with its semi-modest cut. The waist was tight and the skirt full, but her sleeves bared her shoulders and a bit of her bosom, which while not as impressive as that of the artificially enhanced glamoray (the lovelies carefully crafted into their beauty and curves with a dangerously draining spell), still served its purpose well enough. Her hair was left down to emphasize her youth and innocence.

"That will do," Alaitha said as she tugged the lacing of Sarah's white heeled boots. Ladies did not show their ankles, a practice some nobles took delight in pretending to before they 'succumbed' to their lovers. "My husband will announce your presence tonight at the Gathering. It is not an official event, but many important Fae will be there."

"What-ow," Sarah gasped as Alaitha raked her fingers through the girl's hair to make sure it was tangle-free but found it was not. The Queen grabbed a comb from her vanity table, and Sarah's downcast eyes missed the way her hair began to glimmer more with each stroke. "What will he tell them?"

Alaitha smiled a bit, but it was a smugly unpleasant smile, a scheming look-Sarah quickly lowered her eyes again. "He will tell them that you are the mortal that ran Jareth's maze and won, and are being celebrated. They will not care what the reason is, and they already know our illustrious Goblin King was defeated by a human girl. They will be beside themselves to see you."

Sarah, who had been paling since the mention of that particular king, swallowed. "There's no way he'll be happy about that." She dared raise her eyes to the reflection of the Queen's cool gaze.

Alaitha quirked one fine brow up. "It does not matter; a Guest of the High King cannot be harmed in any way." She did not clarify that such a being was treated as his possession. "Practice walking in this without losing your breath or balance. We will dine before the Gathering." She left Sarah alone and joined her king in his study as he regarded some parchments before him on a polished ebony desk.

"She believes me cruel," she said lightly, placing one smooth palm against the cool surface. "In different, at best."

"Good," he murmured back, jotting down a note beside the formal swirls of the Fae written language. "She does not trust me either, but that is because I am male. I do not want her forming attachments to anyone except for Jareth. I do believe her imploring eyes and fitful manner will draw him irresistibly despite himself. But she will fear me more than him, for I alone will have the power to return her home."

"The Goblin King would not bring her back even if he could world-walk at will," Alaitha pointed out, leaning slightly forward. Her husband scooted the map-like documents aside pointedly. "If he succeeds in getting her alone he may not return her to us either. Not without proof of his possession."

He rose from his chair, waving a hand over the parchments to vanish them and studied her with a thoughtful tilt to his head. "You are right, of course. How can we fan his desire without freeing Sarah from our grasp?"

"You mock me with flattery," she accused, crossing the gap to wrap her arms around his neck. She exerted enough pressure to bring his head down and whisper in his ear in between tiny kisses. "She will remain in our estate when not accompanied by us-he cannot remove her by magic or force. And he will come for her in time, and weaken," she murmured as he ran his hand over her. "And all the while knowing he is falling victim to our will." It was hard to tell if this thought or his actions elicited the shiver. She pushed him away suddenly, hands against his chest to hold him at bay.

"Place the hold-bracelet on her and you know full well that she cannot leave. She will accept it willing for her own protection." Her eyes narrowed at his patronizing, annoyance winning out over lust.

'She does like to test her place,' he thought, reaching for her again. His hand jerked out like a viper, fingers biting into her bare arm. Yanking her against him he claimed her mouth possessively, pushing her backwards towards the lounging chair. "She will do as I say," he acknowledged with a growl into her hair as he turned her face to kiss her neck. 'And so will you,' went unspoken but seemed to delight her-if the way she pulled him down on top of her on the couch was any indication.

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He threw the crystal and turned away, not watching to see it disappear before hitting the far wall. Stalking to his high-backed chair he threw himself in it like the spoiled lord-of-old he looked like. The words imprisoned in the sphere, taken in through a fairy's eyes, echoed in his mind.

"The court is alive with whispers that Jareth's conqueror is returned, and to be revealed by the High King at Gathering." Seylayt stared coldly up into the fluttering creature's eyes-a renegade that belonged to Jareth alone. Her terse words were no reflection on their business relationship; she was reserved with everyone. "He makes no secret of this, Goblin King," she warned. "Do not make a spectacle of yourself."

Sarah. He had not seen her face since she had rejected-since she had defeated...

HIs lips thinned in a sour expression. However he looked at it, he did not like to recall the moment.
He was free to observe her now that he knew of her existence, but saw no reason to; she was equally free from a life involving him in any way. Sarah was no melodramatic-not matter how tormented by curiosity , she'd never dare call on him again, relishing the chance to pine away and complain as was her style.

He stopped shifting another crystal around one-handed. Was. Perhaps not anymore. He snorted. No, if she did not contain at least a hint of that shiny-eyed little girl still she would not be here.

But what did she want? And what could Eyfran be bandying her about for? Simply to enrage him? The High King did nothing without a purpose.

He dismissed the crystal and got up, index finger curled at his lips thoughtfully. Striding out of the chamber he passed his throne room full of rowdy goblins in favor of his private receiving room where a small tribe of fairies tended their much-loved peanut garden from behind thick glass walls reaching almost to the ceiling (more for their protection from the goblins than any real intent to keep them in). They spied for him happily in exchange for the varieties of nut he brought them. Such things were not native to his homeland and had to be carefully cultivated, a rare delicacy if he wanted to sell them. He did not understand the fascination for this accidental discovery of his, but he was reaping the benefits of it.

He beckoned one and it conferred with its sister (the breeding males attended the Queen in the leafy abode above). Flying to him, it rested on his palm and he spoke softly so as not to deafen it. "Seek out the mortal Sarah in the High King's citadel-do not be seen. Go." And it went.

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A/N: Be easy on me for typos. My computer was wiped b/c of viruses and then died in January. We could not afford to fix it until recently and have no Microsoft Word now. I"ll have you guys know that BECAUSE I LOVE YOU and felt really, really bad I worked on eight chapters of this at work, when I was supposed to be, well, working. I also wrote another Sarah/Jareth story that I have to type up on notepad for you all, and as well as chapters for stories you may or may not read of mine.

To My Reviewers:

MythStar Black Dragon-Thank you! I hope you're still reading this...

Notwritten-you're welcome. Please keep sharing your comments.

Fae Keladrey-I'm glad you like it, it's so hard to be unique in this fic section. I'll try and watch my phrasing a bit more.

Turtlerad17-Yeah, I didn't want the HK to be someone who's merely so evil he drives Sarah into Jareth's arms, I wanted him to have his own personality. Glad you like him.

Team Guy of Gisborne-Thank you! Please keep coming back for more.

Saoirse Driscoll-I hope you like where it's gone so far.