Jareth sat in a chair the way he sat on his throne, bored, one leg over the side, looking all the world like the king he was. He watched his younger brother pace nervously, the fool. Genevieve was pleasant enough and was already Queen of Faith, but still. She was a woman, easily pleased, easily coddled. Not like Sarah. Sarah was molten lava and starlight, burning her way into men's hearts as easily as a flame destroyed cobwebs. She was both fantasy and nightmare, lust and dark need. He remembered seeing there on the floor, looking so innocent as her hair splayed around her head like a dark halo. He'd had to touch her face to determine her illness, removing his glove to feel her warm skin beneath his fingers. Skin met skin and Jareth had been in ecstasy. When her blood lust had screamed into his psyche, demanding to be heard, the force of it almost set him back against the nearest wall.

He would have her, there was no doubt about it. The Labyrinth would speak to them both soon and set forth the rules of courtship. Sarah might balk at the rules, but she would have no choice if she truly wanted to belong here. His mind raced in time with his pulse and Jareth bit his lower lip to keep from moaning aloud. Sarah would have to prove her worth before earning her kingdom. More importantly, before earning her king. Their wedding would be the highlight of the season and he would spare no extravagance in his quest to please her in any and all ways. He had to shift on the chair as parts of his body wished for his queen.

How priceless it was that she thought he was to be wed. What would she do to stop it from happening, and how long could he prolong her agony? Would she beg him to claim her body, giving herself freely to him? Would she demand to be wed this day herself? He wondered if she had a plan in mind or if she would disrupt the ceremony, pledging her devotion to him, her need to be his slave. It was a bit exciting and he felt the thrill of anticipation, trying to second guess such a queen was like playing chess using brand new rules. He fervently hoped she wouldn't declare her need for him in the middle of the wedding, it was desperate melodrama and she was more clever than that by far. Not clever enough to not be punished, however. She was his, true - but first she must suffer for her insolence in leaving him. He cursed the long nights he'd helplessly watched her through crystals, kissing others, mocking him with her blatant disregard for his pain. As he'd spent endless hours pleasing himself under cover of night to the visions he'd viewed of her as she undressed at night, as she bathed in scented oils. And then if he was lucky, she would pleasure herself as well, calling his name even as she'd wished never to see him again.

The Labyrinth had chosen her as his queen even before she'd won his puzzles and seen through his tricks. He'd watched her for years, planting thoughts of fantasy into her life at every opportunity. Watching her in the park as she rehearsed made his heart swell with longing. He'd seen how other girls had left behind fantasies to become dull and normal with their petty wishes for popularity and new clothes. Sarah had never been one to wish for such things. While she had been a child, he'd been fascinated by her imagination, her cunning. For a human girl, she'd been fearless, yet when he'd needed her to be brave, she'd thrown his love back into his face and run away. Jareth would make certain she had nowhere to run now. He forced himself to focus on the present for the future would take care of itself soon enough.

"Morgan, you are wearing tracks into my very expensive flooring," Jareth drawled lazily. Morgan grimaced, staring down at his traitorous feet. He'd been through war, murder plots, betrayals of all kinds over the years. But the anxiety from those events paled in comparison when he realized what he was about to do. It was the biggest rush of passion he'd ever felt. He hoped that Genevieve was feeling just as alive.

"I've no clue why I pace. This is a happy day, brother," he said, shrugging. "I am happier than I have reason to be, but at the same time - my stomach feels as though it is trying to escape through my throat."

Jareth smirked at Morgan, leaning back in his chair to look up at him with a wry humor. "You fear the unknown even as you race to conquer it. Marriage is but another battlefield, dear brother. You must simply remember not to use real weapons. Gets messy."

Morgan stared at the Goblin King for a long moment before bursting into laughter. His hazel eyes danced as he regarded his eldest brother. There was a new glimmer of mischief in the Goblin King's demeanor and Morgan was ready for anything.

"Genevieve tells me your Champion has arrived. Have you spoken with her?"

"Briefly, she was passed out on my floor. Don't worry - it was only the blood lust. I do wonder what set it off though." Jareth grinned, showing off sharp teeth. Morgan grinned back, knowing from his brother's stories that Sarah was not a normal girl. The night was to become most interesting soon.

"Oh drat, I've forgotten my best leather gloves," Morgan did a perfect, proper imitation of their mother, the High Queen and Jareth laughed aloud.

"Go back and get them then, women are sticklers for such fripperies. I'll await you here and then we can go into the ballroom together." Morgan nodded absently at the plan, already thinking on his Genevieve again as he teleported out of the room.

JSJSJS

Sarah gave her invitation to the guard and was amazed at the expression on the huge goblin's face. The fierce warrior bowed to her, silent approval on his face. Sarah nodded back to him as she took back the invitation. Quite the difference from her reception last time she'd seen goblins. Smiling she found her way into the ballroom, amazed to see so many different creatures in attendance. Centaurs stood quietly in the back of the room chatting with what could only be wood nymphs. Phooka goblins from Ireland, their heads not human but either goat or horse, babbled in some ancient Gaelic in another corner of the room.

"Is it true they mated on the king's own throne?" A high pitched giggle followed and Sarah turned to listen to a pair of nymphs off to the side.

"I was told that they were caught mating in the High King's study. Sounds delicious. The king is such a fine speciman, wouldn't mind giving him a go myself. Genevieve is a lucky girl to have landed such a prize."

Sarah's blood boiled. They dared discuss her king with his queen so nearby? Her hands bunched into fists and she forced herself to remain calm. It would not do to murder Jareth's guests before the ceremony. Jareth. Sarah smoothed out the skirt of her ballgown and searched the room for him, sighing in frustration. She saw the dark haired man from before as he walked out of a doorway and down a hall. Rushing up to the door, she was stopped by another guard who hadn't noticed Morgan's departure.

"Sorry ma'am, the groom's in there getting ready." She gave him her invitation, hoping to gain entrance and she wasn't disappointed. The guard's eyes widened and he moved aside.

"I'm sure he'll want to see you," he said, opening the door for her. She entered and saw Jareth sitting there, idly spinning a crystal in his hand. In an unguarded moment, he seemed so young and almost sad. Part of her wondered why she was there when he so obviously had no need for her, but another growing part of Sarah was calling for Jareth's body to cover her own and grant her some release from her torture. How could she stop him from this wedding? Maybe she couldn't - maybe she'd only be able to delay it but she had to do something. The burning inside her was growing again. She quietly locked the door and turned to face him.

"Jareth, we need to talk," she said and was startled when the crystal bounced out of his hand to roll away into some hidden corner of the room. He looked at her in surprise, grinning.

"Do we? About what exactly? Are your rooms not sufficiently regal for you? Do you need a trumpeteer following you around announcing your movements to us all?"

"Why am I here?" Sarah wanted to know, the flames of longing licking at her mind. She ruthlessly pushed them away, trying to focus. He shrugged.

"As Champion of the Labyrinth, you have a right to be at royal weddings. Have you met Genevieve? Such a beautiful girl, I am well pleased with her - assets." He let his tongue glide over his lower lip and she shuddered. He should not look so sexy simply licking his lip.

"You cannot marry her, she's not worthy of you," Sarah said and his gaze turned suspicious.

"Really and why is that?" He stood up and she had to restrain herself from flinging herself into his arms. She had to tell him what she'd seen.

"She was kissing someone else earlier. Before I - fainted. I saw her kissing someone else. So you can't marry her." There, she'd done it, she'd told him. Surely he wouldn't continue with this farce.

"Ah, I see. Well the wedding will continue as planned, so if there is nothing further," he said dismissing her with a wave of his hand. Sarah was furious, he dared make light of this when the little harlot had betrayed him?

"You will not marry her, Jareth. She is not what you need." She moved closer to him, flames of desire flickering to life within her deep green eyes. His own eyes narrowed, and she shivered under his inspection, knowing he was trying to read her mind.

"And you think to know what I need? How is that possible when you haven't been here to see how I've had to rebuild my kingdom after your little romp? What could you know of my needs, Sarah? Do you think that you could know more of them than I do myself?"

"I wish I could bind you to my will," she whispered and before she knew what was happening, the king was chained to a wall, his arms above his head. He went to pull his arms free and found that he could not. Sarah's eyes grew large and a wicked grin crossed her lovely face as she advanced on him. He frowned, trying to use his magic but he couldn't conjure a crystal in his position. He sighed, exasperated as she leered at him.

"Sarah, this is very immature. Release me at once." She didn't answer, merely taking her finger and letting it glide over his ear, down his throat, going lower to his chest. She gently held his royal medallion and smiled at it, before raking her nails over his chest in a swift fluid motion. He hissed as he hips instinctively moved towards hers and she laughed low in her throat, cupping him roughly. He blew out a shaky breath and growled at her, eyes dangerous.

"Release you? So that you can run to that little whore and demean yourself? No my king, you are too much a man for that. It's my duty to protect you, even if it is from yourself. And I need to teach you a lesson. You can't offer your heart to me then give it to such a woman when I haven't said she could have it. It's still mine, you're still mine and it's time you realized that."

"But the wedding must continue," he said, silently loving the way she was dominating him. "It is for the good of my kingdom."

"You have no idea what's good for you, Jareth - but you will," she whispered into his ear, licking it gently. She leaned back as he tried to bite her in response, his breathing jerky and uncontrolled, his arms straining from the struggle to break free. He was magnificent in bondage and her body was moving on its own with no further thought from her mind. He was hers and he would know it.

Sarah put her hands on either side of his jacket's lapels and pulled him into a scorching kiss that made Jareth lose touch with reality. Her tongue slid through his parted lips and claimed his, her lower body brushing up against him in a wanton dance. He groaned into her mouth, struggling to release himself from her magic, his eyes closing in effort. She was killing him and enjoying it, he was sure.

"Sarah, please - I must tell you," he gasped, but she wasn't listening. She ran her hands under his shirt, scraping her nails across the muscled flesh, delighting in the way his body was responding to her touch. Her hands went lower, to the waist of his pants and she slid her hand around to cup him again, squeezing. His eyes flew open as her mouth made its way down his chest, her hands lowering his pants slowly to reveal his need for her. She knealt before him, looking back up at her king with a need that made his mouth go dry. Her lips lowered onto his erection, taking the length of him slowly into her warm moist mouth and he groaned loudly, pulling at the shackles on his wrists.

"You will not marry her, Jareth," she said, biting the tip then licking around it in small smooth circles. He pushed his hips into her commanding mouth, panting with need. Her mouth swirled around him with a quickening pace, teeth nipping at his sac, then his inner thighs, her nails lightly tracing various patterns over his skin.

"The wedding must continue," he said, fighting her hold on him, and her teeth bit down hard on his inner thigh before she took him fully into her mouth again to suck him fiercely, her single minded purpose throwing Jareth's last shred of sanity into the wind. Her lower teeth scraped the underside of him and he almost sobbed with the pleasure she was giving him. Her hands slid over his ass, kneading in a rhythmic pattern, before she let one finger enter him from behind, pushing into him slowly. He growled deep in his throat, fury rising in him as he was powerless to touch had to touch her, he would go mad from this wanting. Sarah would pay dearly for this, but right now - he was willing to let her have her fun.

"I will not allow it," she vowed, rising up to raise her skirts as she rubbed against him, the smooth fabric of her skirt creating delicious friction between their bodies. She wasn't wearing underwear, he realized. She positioned him at her entrance and began to move closer with her swaying hips. He almost shouted in triumph as he realized her intentions. She was going to - no, she wouldn't, would she? He smiled in spite of the situation, only to freeze as the door started to open. Sarah spun around, startled.

"Damn, I wish I could get out of here unseen," she said and in an instant, she was gone. Morgan walked in to find his brother in a compromising position. Their eyes met and Jareth found the shackles dissolve, dropping him to the floor. Adjusting his clothes, he glared at his brother who was finding it very hard not to laugh.

"Not. One. Word." Jareth glared at Morgan, daring him to say something. Morgan nodded and held up his forgotten gloves.

"Found them," Morgan announced. Jareth glared again and Morgan laughed.

"Come now brother that was two words, correct?" After a moment of shock, the Goblin King laughed with his brother and the two of them made their way out into the ballroom.

The ceremony was about to begin.