Chapter 27. The witch becomes Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan

Jareth had not planned on reading the scrolls, he thought he had more than his fill of information on Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan, if anything he thought he had a bit too much information. Still, later that morning after he'd taken the woman, he found himself drawn toward the domain of his scribe and record keeper. Lutin it appeared was expecting him. The Hobgoblin bowed as he entered the chamber, he was placing a series of scrolls on the table for the King to inspect.

"What is all this?" Jareth asked trying not to sound too interested in the answer.

"The private diary of King Zoltarie, these are all the notes and passages dealing solely with Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan." Lutin stated quietly and respectfully. "I am at your disposal my King." He bowed and moved away for the King to have piracy. "I've laid them out in the order they were written, Sire."

Jareth nodded absently as he picked up the first scroll, nonchalantly. He unfastened the tie and let it open. Reading while he stood, as if he were going to place the scroll down and leave. He read the fist lines of the scroll and experienced a strange feeling of deja vu.

'This night brings me no joy, the raid cost me the lives of Goblin and Elf. Good men, true men of the Fairy Realms. This famine has cost us more than lives; it has cost us our culture. Even now we bring mortal humans over to this side to rebuild bloodlines. If it were not for the petty wars they make upon each other, our mission would fail.'

Lutin politely pulled the chair out for the King, whom he'd been watching from a respectful distance. The King took the seat, unaware of the one who'd pulled it for him. It was obvious the King was enthralled by the words he was reading.

'This night we've taken more than our share of prisoners, but one, one will not go upon the blocks. She will be my payment for the services I've rendered to the efforts to keep our kind alive.' Jareth read the words and understood the feeling of the writer. They were not words of triumph; no they were a statement of fact, but not victory. 'She is fire to my ice, and her blood calls to mine in spite of the fact that we are not of the same kindred…. Never have I seen such pale jewel eyes.' The Goblin King lowered the parchment scroll and blinked, his breathing labored. "Lutin," he called out. "See that I am not disturbed."

The Scribe bowed and promised he'd see to it that no one, regardless of station would disturb his King.

'She is as wild as the highland clans she is bred from,' the king wrote. 'Proud, perhaps prouder then even Oberon's haughty Queen. One can not help but be drawn toward her fiery heart. Braver than some men, as we raided her village, she alone stood with drawn sword to protect a hut of children, none of which had been born of her womb. It was amusing to cross blades with her even though she stood not a chance. I had never thought a female born of any other race could stir me, yet here in this wild wilderness, this half grown human female, making an effort to protect the younger children fired my soul. It was a pity to have to strike her down, perhaps that is why I but dazed the girl. When by rights I should have killed her.' Jareth read the scroll, carefully. He paused and went back wondering why he'd not read these scrolls before this moment.

'Humans are now a tradable commodity, and highly prized by many of the Underground races. Fae keep some as pets and others to breed.' The words further down in the scroll had caught his attention, and he pondered on them. He recalled Oberon making mention of a great famine, and also the cursed virus that had swept through the Fae community. It troubled him greatly that Fae would barter for mortals… He had understood that the Fae had captured their own mortals by beguiling and bewitching them… now, he was not so sure.

Moving back to the first mention of the girl he read again. 'Never have I seen such pale jewel eyes,' and continued to read the description that Zoltarie had written down. 'Her hair is long and thick, and dark as a raven's wing, yet there are highlights of red and gold when the sun shines on her. Her face is as comely as one of the Fae, wide eyes of the shade of green that is the same as the pool of water that is hidden under the Goblin Castle. In there depths I find blues and golds flecked and ringing. Even the blue pattern on her face can not mar her beauty, in fact if anything, it adds to it…. She is a warrior, and only a fellow warrior can appreciate her. She is young and her mouth has not been used, I intend to teach her the uses of such full and desirable lips.' Jareth shivered, as if a goose had crossed his grave. Zoltarie could have been describing his Sarah. He read on. 'It was too easy, the taking of this little village. It was as if the mortals had abandoned these to us in hopes of appeasing our… appetites. I over heard one of the children ask if they were going to be eaten… who makes up these tales of horror to tell to little children, I wonder. Too late we realized we were being set up for a trap. I blame myself for not seeing the village was too easy to plunder. It is only by the grace of the Goddess Morrigan that our raiding party was only the scouting party. Had the main force of my guards not been lying in wait, my own life would have been forfeited. As it is we lost a good number on both sides. Men of the village and women were slaughtered. Those who survived will become part of a slave labor force that will aide in the rebuilding of the Underground Kingdoms. We've taken everything this village had to offer; food, crops, livestock and humans. Anything that was deemed of use was taken, including some of the buildings which were dismantled and transported to the other side of the mists. I had to order my Goblins not to drink of the ales they found for fear they would drink themselves into a stupor before we could finish our grizzly tasks.

The humans that were still worth taking were bound and shackled, and led on the march through the veil of mists. What was not was left behind to wither and die. The children were carried off by Goblins, squealing louder than the hogs and pigs we confiscated. She did not squeal, nor did she go easily. It took three Goblins to hold her down so her hands could be bound, and when her legs were shackled, she kicked one of my person guards in the jaw loosening six of his teeth. She hissed and spit like an asp, and the little witch spat curses at my men as they dragged her still struggling away. Before they reached the portal, I stopped them to order them to deliver her to my castle and not the holding pens where the auctions will take place.'

Jareth looked at the date on the scroll, it was before he'd been born by a good many years. Even by Fae standards and he wondered if there were Fae scrolls in his father's library to back up the claims of this Warrior King. He knew there were things Oberon didn't discuss about that dark time, when the virus had nearly stuck down the Fae, and the Famine had decimated the Underground Kingdoms. He read on.

'Curses on the heads of those who defy me, curses on the heads of those fools who were turned to traitor and aided the girl, and all shall pay dearly.' Jareth paused to read the date; it was only a few days after the raid. He went back and picked up the thread of thought. 'The she witch was taken to the slaves' quarters in the Goblin Palace; one would have thought she'd be grateful to still be breathing, but no, not that one. She set about beguiling a dwarf,' Jareth put the scroll down. A dwarf? How odd that history could be repeated, he mused. 'The fool led her into the Labyrinth, and it took the better part of a day, almost eleven hours to locate her.' Jareth's frown deepened coincidence? 'The little fool had thought to escape me, and with the aid of the fool dwarf she nearly had. I have ordered her to be held in the dungeon for now, and the fool who aided her has been whipped and removed from the castle staff. He will have to forage in the woods for a time, which should teach him who is King!'

'We have auctioned off the humans today, while it was a poor hauling after the raid, it was lucrative. Six of the men fetched twenty kopecks apiece; the rest of the men took ten to fifteen kopecks apiece. Three of the breeding women fetched better, at forty kopecks apiece, a good price for Celtic breeder. The rest of the breeders, eight in all took a lower price of only thirty some odd kopecks. Three women beyond breeding age, but good healthy stock and hard workers by the looks of them, fetched nearly thirty kopecks apiece. As usual the Fae were the ones to place the highest bids on the youngsters. Had I not visited the holding pen, one child would not be gracing a Fae home, as it is the boy will grow up in my service.

I ordered the keeper to bathe and supply garments to the children, knowing that clean children sell better than dirty ones. From the hut there were about a dozen that had been captured, all of various ages but none but the one left to guard them were reaching maturity. Most of them were very young, tots and toddlers. A few adolescences, but still young enough to train and mold, and all were in relative good health. Celts are in the habit of seeing to the condition of their offspring, and that is one reason I have made it a habit to raid the Clans. Their race is spirited and robust, and they adapt well to the changes from that world to this.

I do not make it a habit to visit the pens before an auction, and I will rectify that oversight. For I now realize I have allowed some of the best stock to be bought out from under me. Why should the Fae or the Elves out benefit the Goblin Realm? We put more on the line than any other race, and the monetary profits are not enough. Today I went on a whim down to see the stock keeper, and to inspect the children. I had only a mere glimpse of them in that dark hut. Celtics breed a handsome child, spirited, with honest faces and brave hearts. Some of the children had the burnished red gold locks that are prized by some of the Fae races. They fetched a high price indeed, for they will be raised to breed with Fae, and increase the population that was decimated by disease. The ones with dark tresses will be bought up by elves who prefer to keep them not for breeding but for labor. And then there were the children with golden hair… fair as the sun shinning in the sky. There were three two girls and the boy, the girls were bid on by Elf and Fae alike, and one went to each.

The moment I spotted the lad in the holding area I knew he was for me. His eyes were not full of fear or hesitation. When I drew near the bold little imp came forward and looked me in the eye. Though he is but a tot, not yet weaned, I was taken with him. The keeper was instructed to turn him over to me, and I carried my little prize out of the holding pens. One of the Hobgoblin maids has offered to see to his needs for me, and I will house him in my wing. The rest were auctioned off swiftly, wisely I have always made sure the adults are first to be auctioned, and then removed before the children are marched out to be viewed. Nothing went amiss; the auction went smooth as Elven silks. Our expenses have been covered and a small but respectable profit has been recorded by our treasurer. New recruits have come forward from several races to replace the fallen and the injured.'

Jareth read the next entry without surprise. 'The girl has again tried to escape. This time she made it as far as the forest, and has actually tamed one of the beasts that dwell there. In order to insure that she does not escape me again I've ordered a tower to be constructed. When she was returned to me, she was kicking and screaming and delightfully full of fire. It was a shame to have to publicly whip and humiliate the creature. However I am King and I will not be defied.' Jareth snorted knowing exactly how the other had felt. 'Her garment was already in tatters from her run, and it tore away easily in my hands as she hung suspended from one of the rafters of the dungeon. Her skin was much softer than I'd have expected it to be, and unmarred. The shock registered in her beautiful eyes had told me that she had never been without garments before a male. Her innocence was like a heady libation and I found myself intoxicated.

I have never thought that one of that race could fire my loin, and yet this leggy girl, this untried calf aroused me unlike Goblin or Elf ever has. I found it difficult to keep her innocent, for I intend to take my time in deflowering this Celt. Her skin was soft as the petals of the flower they call a rose, and her anger like the thorns of that plant. Unheeding the protests that came angrily from her sweet lips, I stroked her becoming acquainted with her very pleasing curves. Before the company of my guards I humiliated the girl, and demonstrated who was master.'

Jareth lowered the scroll once more, thinking to himself this was strangely not unlike his reaction to having been held captive and tortured. While he held all three women captive it was only Sarah he took his anger out on. Zoltaire's description of the young woman in his hands could easily have applied to Sarah, right down to the becoming acquainted with her pleasing curves. Truth be told he'd taken a great deal of person pleasure in the humiliation of the mortal who had defied and also rebuked his advances. It had been glorious to touch and tease, and even to taste her. It had been wonderful seeing the Greek girl cringe and struggle as he had caused Sarah to writhe just before he'd forced her to climax while her companions watched helplessly. Even now the thought of that moment and the moment he'd spread her firm buttocks to accept the presence of his coiled cock gave him a deep and satisfying glow. He returned to reading, the next passage was a few days after the public whipping.

'The tower is nearly complete and it is a good thing, for the girl known as Saraid to her people has mounted yet another escape from the dungeon. If it were not so much trouble, I would have to admire her determination.' Jareth chuckled softly, thinking of his little spitfire. 'My alliances with magic users has been practical and most useful, for I have been able to barter with a wizard for wards that will keep unwanted visitors or would be rescuers from the tower keep. I had the tower constructed with no stair to the upper level room. The only means of entry is that of a large window, and I've employed the aid of Harpies to act as guards for my prisoner knowing that they alone will remain unmoved by her skillful use of her guile. For lower level Goblins are too easily moved by her as was the dwarf, and forest beast. This time it was a lower level Goblin she tricked into aiding her in her efforts to be free. Foolish girl for now I have been forced to take actions that have marred her. I was forced to send for my metal smith, and my wizard, for I will not be defied, not even by this daughter of a Celtic warrior leader. Her will is strong, mine is stronger. I have pitted my Kingdom against hers, and though she is strong, I must remain stronger. Pity to break such fiery spirit…

In the deepest bowels of the dungeon, with her hands bound above her and her legs also bound I called for a Harpy to pierce her skin and the wizard placed the unbroken rings with in her nipples and in her nether lips. Her howls were like music to my ears, never have I heard so sweet a song. Had she begged for mercy I would have been disappointed. Never the less, as the daughter of the leader of her clan her body has been kept perfect. For Celts place a great price on a woman who is neither marred nor soiled. She had been groomed for a marriage that would bring more power and riches to her father. Now she was tagged in a way that slaves of both Realms would be recognized by. Nipple rings have long been a common way of tagging one's slave. I sent the shamed and dishonored female to the tower in the care of the Harpy guard who had done the honor of inflicting the piercings upon her. To insure that the tower would not be affected by the beast who had become beguiled by the little witch, I have had the outer layer of the tower encased in the ivory of a long dead beast of the mortal realm, and the roof shingled in slates of opal.'

The scroll ended, and Jareth took a deep breath as he rolled it up and fastened it once more. He was not sure he wanted to go on reading but felt he needed to. "Lutin," he called out; "Just how many of the diaries deal with the creature in the tower?"

"Many," was the calm answer. "Zoltarie was enthralled with her." He looked at the King. "Would you care for some tea or something, Sire?"

"Yes, thank you." He opened the next scroll and read. 'Once more my plans go awry due to the slave in the tower.' Jareth laughed aloud, the date on this new scroll dated the information as being a few months after the raid. 'A few days with out food and drink should take some of the fight out of her.' The next entry was not about the female prisoner but about the golden haired boy the Goblin was keeping. 'Torr was brought to me today; he is accepting his new home without any signs of resentments or of difficulty. He is a delightful child even though he is human. He is a bright and inquisitive little imp, and shows no signs of fear of any of the many Goblin races that are in my employ. His language skills are not yet apparent; he is too young to really understand all that has taken place. It is likely he will not remember who his people are.'

Jareth wondered if Toby would have remembered who his people were had he been able to keep the boy. He doubted it, after all he and the boy had bonded quickly. It was most likely that he would have come to think of Jareth as his father in a very short time. That thought pleased the Fae King far more than it should as he read on.

'Saraid is going to be a hard nut to crack and her determination to escape me and take other slaves and possessions with her is becoming a problem. She used the sheets and curtains of the tower room to escape. All the draping and sheeting has been removed by my orders. For now there will be no luxuries for the slave, she must learn who is master.' Jareth now understood why here was no draping in the room, and why the sheets were of milkweed threads. They were not likely to hold more weight than that of a swarm fairy. 'The female is more trouble than I had known a female could be. I'd have thought being whipped and tagged was enough, but no, she is hell bent on breaking free and taking all captives with her.'

Jareth looked again at the date on the scroll, he mused it must have been the beginning of the somewhere around the end of the first century of modern history in the mundane world. About the year ninety five A.D. "Lutin, do we have a map of the area's raided by Zoltarie?"

The Scribe came forward carrying the precious scrolls, looking as fresh as the day they had been created. One of the benefits of the Underground was the long term affects of magic on things that would crumble to dust in the mundane realm. Most Kingdoms had scribes like Lutin who saw to it that the precious words and drawings on parchment were preserved, and not lost as so many such scrolls had been in the mundane planes. He unrolled the map and placed it before his King, returning a few moments later with the promised tea. Jareth looked at him and asked. "Do we have a common map telling us the mundane names?" This too was placed before the King. "The raid on Saraid's village must have been here… in the Highlands of Scotland." Jareth mused as he again checked one map against the other. "Yes, here, and her people must have been at battle with the Roman forces trying to subjugate them." Placing the maps aside the King returned to the chronicle of the events.

'She did not make straight for the woods or the Labyrinth as with her first two attempts, this time she boldly went into the slaves quarters and amassed an attempt to revolt and flee. If she were not so much trouble, I would admire her determination. Again I will resort to depriving her, this time not only of food but of all comforts including her guards. A few days alone will do to keep her in her place.' Jareth mused that it had not and found the next entry proving that hunch right. 'Saraid taxed me to the limits and I have retaliated in a way that left one of us pleased and the other bruised and bleeding.

The woman's head must be made of stone, like that god forsaken area of Scotia she comes from. One would think having been deprived of food and comfort would have taught the bitch to keep her opinions to herself. Her guards fed her and saw to her bathing, upon reviving her strength she no sooner sees me with the boy Torr than she hurls insults down upon me from her tower rooms. Calling me thief and worse, and the boy heard it all but didn't understand. I could tell from his face he did however recognize the girl. For he reached out his arms, outstretched toward the tower toward her, she called down to him, ignoring me. The boy was upset that I would not allow him to see the girl, but settled down once he was taken indoors. I however could hear her howls and threats even when I closed my balcony door. When I returned to the balcony the bitch began to hurl whatever she could get her hands on out the window down at me.

I called up my Gryphon and upon arriving in the tower room, sent her Harpy guard away. Enraged the Celtic maiden hurled herself at me, thinking to send me out the widow and to my death undoubtedly. There is something to be said about the fire of a raging Celtic woman. We battled until I pinioned her down upon the barren mattress. Immobilized and helpless, she still struggled; even after I'd bound her to the cot she struggled on. I can hear her screams still and the fire they coursed in my blood is a memory that I will not easily forget. Nor that of deflowering her; making her my intimate. Today I have taken her from her realm forever, for now she will be my Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan. For I find the sight of her bound and struggling most pleasing.' Jareth placed the scroll down, thinking of how beautiful Sarah had been as he bound her to the cot, the same one Saraid had been bound to. He mused that the King must have taken his time with her just as he had Sarah, and he ventured he had forced her body to betray her as he had forced Sarah to come to a climax. IT was worse than mere rape; it was defiling the very soul, and making the woman give into sinful pleasure. A weapon the Mundane had come to use far later.

"My King has found something of interest?"

"Indeed," he tapped the scroll. "Zoltarie was a lusty Goblin, how was it he was not being pressed to take a Goblin Queen?"

"He was, but that is not reflected in his dairy as he had little interest in what others wanted him to do." Lutin replied. "The lists of Goblin women who were pressed upon him for a Queen, is in one of the other chronicles of the court. I would be most happy to retrieve that scroll for you also, if you wish."

Jareth stretched, "I've enough reading for one day… I wish to walk. I'll be in the lower gardens checking on Hoggle's work if anyone is looking for me." He told the Scribe. "See to it the scrolls are left out for me, I may wish to read again tomorrow."

"As you wish," Lutin looked down at the scrolls, and wished his King had read further.

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Sarah had lost count of the days, but it had been awhile since the King had come to the tower, forcing himself on her. The wounds from the piercing were beginning to repair and the weight of the rings was less bothersome. She paced the turret restlessly, knowing that he could invade at any moment. Daisy asked many times if she'd like a book or some needle work to pass her time, Sarah glared in reply. Della, the Harpy was less cordial, and offered to toss the Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan out the window. Since the incident when Jareth had come to the tower, Sarah had made a point of staying away from the window. Della was told to put her suggestions where the sun does not shine. Daisy wondered several times if she was going to have to break heads.

The winds were cooling as they passed over her skin from the window, and the scent of the strange fragrant flowers filled the air. She could hear the sounds of birds and something else, at first she didn't recognize the sound but when it registered she turned toward the window slightly panicked. Disbelieve followed closely by fury drove her to stand at the window, below she could see Jareth pacing his balcony with was weeping child. "You thieving bastard!" she screamed unable to hold back. Grabbing the first thing she could lay her hands on before Daisy pulled her back, she flung the item blindly out the window.

Jareth had looked up when he heard her voice and seeing the heavy pillar candle and its stand come crashing down easily stepped aside. His eyes met hers; both were full of flames as he handed the baby to the Goblin at his side. "Take care of the baby," he ordered before transforming. Less than a heart beat later he flew in the window to find both Harpy and Goblin struggling to subdue the fury of the mortal girl. "Release the bitch," he snapped and both the guards dropped their hands away from her. "Leave us." His voice was rock hard as his eyes became like lava. Both guards backed away quickly and quietly.

Sarah stood heaving, her eyes as inflamed as those of the Goblin King. "You bastard, you're still stealing children…" she growled.

"Your kind is only too quick to wish them away," he taunted her mercilessly; "As you well know." He saw her come at him, but he easily moved out of her path. "It is the silent pact betwixt your world and mine, little witch. You understand silent pacts, don't you?" He taunted as he maneuvered her to follow him in a strange almost dance in the turret room. "Magic is a greedy mistress; she demands much of us who follow her path."

"Magic does not demand that you steal children," she growled as she followed his steps unaware of his mission.

"On the contrary, she does indeed demand that I take the wished away, away." He was now almost gloating.

Sarah felt the rage turn to fire, "I doubt you know the difference between taking or stealing… it matters not, what you do is wrong." She was franticly now looking for something with which to hurl at him to do bodily damage if she could. "If I still had my powers, I'd show you…"

"Pretty threats," he teased just before he charged her, knocking her backward against one of the strange wooden frames that were in the tower room. Swiftly he bound her hands before she got her wind back. Seeing her hands bound she screamed and railed at him, while she kicked at him with her barefoot. "Looks like I have to bind your ankles as well," he grabbed one foot and bound it as well to the frame. He left on foot free while he stood back to admire his handy work. "Now, little witch, as I was saying… Magic is demanding, and there is a price to all things. The pact that was settled betwixt mine and thine, states that the King of the Goblins must gather the unwanted and wished away… I'm only doing my job."

"You take too much joy in that job you fucking bastard, let me go!" she railed fiercely.

Patting her cheek with one gloved hand he smiled contentedly. "No, I don't think so."

"Let me go you fucking wingless fairy!" The girl pulled violently at the bindings that held her wrist to the framing. Her breathing was becoming very deep and she was panting.

Jareth moved to where he was fully within her vision if not her foot reach. Slowly, with a menacing smirk, he began to peal the leather gloves from his hands. Finger by finger he pealed the leather off. When his hands were free of the leather that had clad them, he tossed the gloves over his shoulder. "Perhaps I've been too lenient with you," he mused ominously intimidating as he moved closer. "This is the thanks I get for all my… generosity." He slammed his hands to the frame on either side of her shoulders, rewarded with a shudder from the girl as her eyes filled with understanding. "I didn't have to be so…generous…Sarah Williams. Perhaps I should put you on rations of bread and water. Take your nice little cot from you… or…" He moved both hand to the sheet that covered her nakedness. "I should just take this…."

"Don't," she warned dangerously, unconscious of the fact that her wishes or wants meant little to him. "Don't you touch me…"

His face moved closer, inches away from hers as he ripped the sheet from her body. "I intend to do more than just touch you… bitch." He rumbled darkly. His eyes left hers as he looked down with appreciation at her body. Even with the slave rings she was a tempting morsel.

Sarah winced; her body was reacting to his nearness. Her nipples rose and puckered demanding attention, the golden rings moved and caused her nipples to harden and her breast to rise. When his hands cupped her breasts, she could not stop the mewl that softly escaped her lips. Clamping her lips together she cringed and closed her eyes.

Jareth was aware of the effect he had on her, it was sweet torture, and he took his time. Her skin was warm and silky even with the rings. His thumb moved light up to the nipple of her left breast, moving the ring and causing a torrent of fire to pass though her veins. She shivered in anticipation of his next move, and he chuckled softly. "Sweet Sarah," he mused. "Still trying not to take pleasure, and still being betrayed by you…oh so… lovely…. Ripe … body." The Goblin King bent forward to take the nipple he'd been manipulating in to his waiting mouth. His tongue teased and played wickedly with the ring. The girl drew her breath in sharply, and hissed as it needed to escape. Her heart beat as wildly as a bird's wing, and her pheromones told him she was well on her way to becoming ready. He looked upward from the breast still in his mouth. Green eyes full of need met the stormy mismatched pair. His hands moved down to the cord at her waist that held the remains of the sheet to her curves. The milkweed sheet dropped, and she was exposed to his hands. His long fingers skimmed over her hips and over her firm rounded buttocks. She breathed in a broken sob; his eyes were still locked with hers. He could smell the sweet warm aroma of womanly juices seeping from her. Their eyes were still in contact as he sunk down slowly to his knees. He placed her free leg over his shoulder as he stabilized himself on the cold stone tiles.

"No, oh don't…" she whispered pleadingly. "Don't…"

Jareth took his eyes from her face, and looked at the soft folds that protected her sex. The ring in the fold of the Venus mound moved slightly with her breathing. He looked up, her eyes widened as his tongue extended to tickle the metal ring before it swept over her folds and then into her. Her moans delighted him, as did her shivers of delight as he toyed with her feminine organ. He lapped up her juices that were now flowing freely. He had told himself this was to punish her, nothing more. However the move she flowed, the harder he lapped and soon he was beyond caring about punishing. She shivered as the orgasms began to sweep her beyond consciousness or caring. Jareth rose, his clothes vanished as he did. He pulled her free leg up over his hip as he forced his extended and swollen manhood into her. Like a sheath to a dagger she fit, his hands held her closer as he began to thrust upward into her. Sarah moaned and arched, unable to fight the need and the desires that were afire within her. His mouth covered hers, and he told himself he was in control, he told himself he could stop. Her sweet warmth clamped down on him as he thrust harder, and harder. Now both were breathing laboriously. Her leg curled and clamped down tighter. He tightened his hold on her as his seed poured hot and thick into her womb. Sarah opened her eyes, and looked at him; his eyes were just opening as well. Jareth made no effort to disentangle himself from her. His hands still held her rounded bottom and he was still buried deep in her. Sarah could still taste him, and it sent an involuntary shudder through her.

Jareth caressed her bottom, as he began to pump slowly again. "Please me, Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan, and I will forget your transgressions against me this day." He crooned in her ear.

"Fuck off," she whispered back with every bit of focus she could muster.

Jareth chuckled, "With pleasure." He pressed harder into her.

"That's not what I mean," she began to struggled, but it was useless, her bindings would not give and the King was in control. "You wait until I'm free, Jareth… I'll make you pay for this…"

"Talk is cheap Sarah," he warned as he thrust harder. "I'm King, and you my dear, a but the King's slave."

"I'm no slave…I'm Sarah Williams," she spat at him. "I'm the girl who beat your fucking Labyrinth!"

"And yet here you are," he taunted, taking great pleasure to point out to her the changing tides. "Bound, and being used…." He smiled at her wickedly. "Never forget Sarah, I'm the King… and I always win." He moved his hands to her breasts and cupped them then looked at the rings and murmured the words of a chant she didn't understand; nevertheless she felt the metal that was hanging from her warm. "I have now decorated your pretty rings." He told her with merriment. "Your slave rings now read…the personal property ofJareth Tuatha Dé Danann Huukec Mec, Warrior King." He felt the pent up roar long before it found its way out of her throat.

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Daisy paced, now and again she looked up at the tower, only to look down and pace again. Della perched herself on the balustrade of the terrace rail. She watched the Goblin with amusement. "Runt you're wearing a path in that stone."

The Goblin looked over at the Harpy. "This is not good," she mumbled darkly. "He needs to read the damn scrolls and instead he's repeating the mistakes of the Last King…." She bit at the fingertips of the gloves on her hands. "Damn men…and their drives…"

The Harpy snorted, "She is the one who started this."

Daisy didn't try to explain the error in the Harpy's thinking. She knew it would do no good. She sighed deeply, knowing she'd have to make an appointment with the Scribe. She looked up at the tower when she heard a pleased roar. "He's finished," she said motioning the Harpy to prepare to fly them both up to the tower.

A moment later the owl soared out the window, and glided down to the terrace before transforming into the King once more. "Clean her up and then remove her bindings." He instructed Daisy. "She pleased me well." He moved into the palace with a smirk on his lips.

Della shook her head, "I don't understand what he finds so pleasing, and she is after all only an ordinary girl."

Daisy looked with disquiet at her partner. "You have no idea of how unordinary that girl is." She allowed the Harpy to grip her under the arms and carry her up to the tower.

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Jareth instead of going to the throne room, or to his study, made his way to the library. Lutin seemed to have sensed his approach and had the scrolls laid out for him along with a cup of hot tea. The King picked up where he'd left off and felt a surge of brotherhood with the long ago Goblin King.

'Saraid is still too much connected to her world,' the words were like a lament. 'I must break her of this connection, and to do so I must take from her all that I can. I have taken her from her people, and I have deprived her of any mortal companionship. Now I must take from her the one thing she holds nearly as dearly as breath itself… I must take her name from her.' Jareth put the scroll down for a moment and pondered the implications. 'From this moment on, no one will speak the name the mortals gave her… she will be…known only as Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan, not even if she pleases me above all others will she ever hear that name again…' Jareth read on, 'I have called upon my leather smith and the metal master to crate a special harness just for my Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan. Once it is delivered I shall take great pride in showing off my newly trained slave… Not even Oberon in all his glory can boast one such as her.'

Jareth looked over the notes, but saw no description of the harness. He rose from the table and moved toward the door. "Philo," he called out as he moved through the corridor, "Philo."

"Sire?" The Hobgoblin bowed to him, "You've a task for me?"

The King smiled at the man with a slightly wicked nod. "Tell me good Philo, in the vaults containing the belongings of Zoltarie, is there a slave's harness? One manufactured by the leather master and the metal smith jointly?"

"You speak of the harness of the Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan;" Philo said with understanding and a sad face. "Alas no, it was removed with the Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan, herself." He tapped his chin. "I do believe however the masters of metals have the original measurements and description of the item, Sire."

"Call the Mater Smith to meet me in my Goblin Throne room, tis not a matter to be brandied about in the state Throne… this is a Goblin matter, and should be handled as such." Jareth said as he walked away knowing his wishes would be seen to.

Half an hour later the Hobgoblin Master of the Forge was bowing before his King. "You have sent for me, Jareth Tuatha Dé Danann Huukec Mec, Warrior King?"

"I have recently learned of a harness…" he began with a cryptic smile.

Joachim looked up at the King with a leering grin all his own. "Ah, you speak of the harness created for the Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan," the Hobgoblin master moved toward the dais. "I was wondering when my King was going to request it."

"You know of it?" Leaning on his thigh, the King pressed his Metal master. "I was told it vanished with the salve herself."

"The one she wore went with her…. The pattern and the knowledge passed down from father to son." Boasted the proud Goblin Master; "I was sure you'd want one the moment you had me create the rings for your pretty slave. Her jewelry pleases you, Sire?"

Leering back the King snorted. "The lady's rings please me indeed." He leaned back, lazily. "Now about this harness…"

"There are actually two harnesses, my King." Joachim interrupted; "One for training, one for… showing off the slave."

"Would it be hard to recreate?" The King asked pleased with the thoughts of training Sarah in the long lost art of the slaves.

"I began work the day you had the Harpy pierce the mortal." Joachim announced proudly. "I should have the first harness the one for training finished by morning. I shall deliver the tack to you with the rising sun." He bowed deeply with a wicked smile. "Jareth Tuatha Dé Danann Huukec Mec, Warrior King, long may you reign."

Jareth waved the man off, unaware of the man watching the entire proceedings. The Baron moved forward and asked softly; "A training harness?"

"She is my slave, and I will do with her as I please," the King answered without looking at his cousin.

"Yes, but… a harness… and tack? My Goddess Jareth, the woman is not a horse.;" Protested Devon with some measure of dislike.

Jareth looked at him; "And how are things going between you and your pretty little witch?" The King snorted and looked overly pleased. "Perhaps I should have one made up for you as well."

"Jareth, you handle your witch your way and leave me to mine." Devon moved out of the throne room with disgust, hearing the peals of wicked laughter that echoed in the circular chamber.

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Daisy and Della's replacements arrived giving the pair a break. Instead of heading toward the pub, Daisy moved toward the Library and called out to Lutin. The Scribe moved into the main room and bowed to his niece. "Captain, what brings you to the chamber of learning?"

"The King," Daisy said swiftly. "How far into the scrolls is he?"

"Not as far as I would wish… he read of the harness… and called for Joachim to come to the Goblin Throne…" Lutin stated somewhat disturbed by the events as they were unfolding.

"I see." Daisy again began to bite the tips of her gloved hand. "It would seem I am going to have to move him to read before he makes a mess of this…"

"Captain," Lutin cautioned. "Remember, Jareth is King… he must come to this at his own speed."

"Lutin, he may be King, but she is Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan, and as the only champion of the Labyrinth… she may be our last hope… We need them both!" She turned to exit the chamber of scrolls and learning. "The entire Underground needs them both!"