A/N: Whew! All right, so here's the next chapter. Things are finally starting to get more action-y, which makes me super glad. Action is the best!

Thanks again to everyone who read, favorited, subscribed, and reviewed the last chapter. You readers are just so wonderful!

xXx

Jareth nearly missed breakfast the next morning. By the time he had collapsed into bed the night before, it was well into the evening, and he was too exhausted to wake up at his usual time, which was sunrise. It took quite a lot of effort to drag his body out of the comfort of his sheets and by the time he was fully dressed, the morning meal was nearly over.

The dining tables were practically empty when Jareth sat down with his daily ration of porridge. It didn't really matter to the Goblin King, as he knew most of the soldiers were hard at work preparing for the attack in three weeks. So, when Toby took a seat on the bench across from him, it surprised Jareth.

"What are you doing here?" he asked after swallowing a mouthful of food. Ten years on the war front hadn't affected his table manners entirely. "Shouldn't you be attending to your battalion?"

Toby shook his head. "I already did, your highness," he replied with a grin, "And I will be returning to my men as soon as I am finished here. I wanted to ask you about what I told you last night."

Glancing around, Jareth looked to see if there was anyone near who would pick up on their conversation. The tent was empty and most likely as secure a place as any.

"Go on," he urged, "What is it?"

Also glancing around, Toby leaned forward. "I wanted to know if you had found anything else about what I told you about."

"I spoke with the High King after you left," Jareth whispered, leaning across the table, "He and I uncovered some information that you and your father do not have. It is imperative that this entire situation remains completely under wraps. Countless lives are at risk if this gets to the wrong ears on either side of the war. You have not told anyone else, have you?"

"Told anyone what?" a voice suddenly inquired from behind Jareth. He started, and knocked his bowl almost entirely off the table. Toby quickly reached across and caught it before it could tumble off and hit the ground.

"King Menelaus," Jareth replied in an overly cordial tone, "Good morning." Both Menelaus and Toby could tell his smile was forced, and both chose to ignore it.

"Good morning Jareth," Menelaus greeted, not bothering to use the Goblin King's title, "Now what was it I heard you and General Tobias speaking of?" He sat himself down next to Jareth.

"Actually it's-" Toby began, and for a half a second, Jareth thought the boy might tell the king everything. However, as the prince continued, Jareth knew he had nothing to worry about.

"It's just Toby," the general corrected, "My parents thought Tobias was too flamboyant a name for the ruler of a country such as ours."

Menelaus froze for a moment, as though he wasn't sure what to do with that information. "My apologies," he said at length, "I was not aware."

"It's no matter," Toby grinned, standing up from his seat, "But now, if your majesties would excuse me. I have troops that need attending. Good day." He turned and left without so much as a glance back before either king could say a word.

Internally, Jareth smirked. The lad was smarter than he thought. Getting out of there was the best thing to do, rather than stay and try to help Jareth avoid Menelaus's questioning. With a sigh, he turned to face the Sprite King, knowing he was in for a most colorful conversation to say the least.

"So," Menelaus pressed, once Toby was completely out of sight. "Tell me what you were talking about with the young prince."

Jareth sighed. "Unfortunately, Menelaus," he replied, imitating the lack of respect the Sprite King had for him earlier, "That conversation is private." He turned back to his food, though it was almost completely gone.

Scoffing, Menelaus rested both elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands. "Not for me it isn't," he retorted, "I am king. Remember, this was originally my war."

"Exactly," Jareth snorted, "And my father was generous enough to align himself with you and appoint me in his place here. You'd best understand that I am due the same respect he is. If I deem a conversation private, then it is private."

"Watch your mouth," Menelaus hissed, his expression quickly darkening and turning dangerous. He pointed a finger at Jareth. "While you may be High Heir, you still are to respect your elders. You are barely more than a child here. Do not forget your place."

Jareth opened his mouth to shoot something back at the Sprite King, but he quickly shut it. Standing up from his seat, he glared down at Menelaus. "You'd best leave your concerns to this war," Jareth ground out, his tone revealing only a fraction of the volumes of anger he felt, "And not to who holds the most power and owes the most respect to whom. Get your priorities straight, Sprite King. Then perhaps we may continue this discusison."

It took all Jareth's self-control to walk away from Menelaus. If he had stayed, Jareth wasn't certain he would be able to control his tongue. The Sprite King didn't usually get under his skin like he had that morning; Jareth wasn't sure why he had reacted the way he did. Maybe he was just tired of the disregard Menelaus constantly threw his way. It had been ten years since Jareth had begun aiding the war, and even after all he had done, he still was treated as a child by the Sprite King.

It didn't matter that every single soldier in the Fae camp respected him more than any other being in the Aboveground. It didn't matter that he had led and won more battles than any other king. It didn't matter that all the other kings referred to his final judgement before making any decisions. It didn't matter that all correspondence with the High King went through him. Menelaus still disregarded his position and authority.

Jareth had worked tirelessly to prove himself over the years, and he had gained a formidable reputation amongst the soldiers and kings. It was frustrating then, to have all of his effort disregarded with one word of disrespect. Perhaps it was slightly immature of him, but Jareth had been forced to grow up quickly in the Aboveground, and certain attributes hadn't caught up with others.

On his way to meet the team of men he was leading through the catacombs, Jareth found himself looking back at how he had gotten to where he was now...

"I'm in the throne room!" Jareth called from his throne. He was sprawled out, with one leg slung over the arm of the curved chair, and an arm hung over the back. He was nonchalantly sliding a crystal across one hand while holding up a book in the other. No children had been wished away that day, and he was enjoying his day off from some of his duties as Goblin King.

The High Heir was surrounded by dozens of giggling, mischievous goblins, some hanging from the chandelier, others bouncing along the shelves of the throne room walls, and still others chasing one another around the throne in which he was seated.

Through the doorway, the High King Lysander walked into the throne room. "You look comfortable," he commented, not bothering on formalities. There wasn't a code of etiquette in the Labyrinth, as most creatures were either too primitive or immature to consistently utilize it. Jareth looked up from his book and flashed his father a grin.

"Hello Father," he greeted, snapping the book shut and casually flinging it across the room, where it landed in perfect position on a high shelf. Jareth mentally congratulated himself on his excellent aim and then turned his attention back to Lysander. "What brings you to my Labyrinth?"

Lysander crossed his arms. "I see you haven't changed much of the decor," he observed instead of answering Jareth's question, "I suppose I'll have to sit on the floor."

Letting out a laugh, Jareth brought his leg back from over the edge of his throne. "Did you want to sit here?" he asked, half-seriously. Lysander shook his head.

"I'll stand," he replied, "I have an idea of what's been on that throne, and it isn't clean. These goblins are hardly sanitary."

Jareth laughed again and sprawled himself out once more. "Suit yourself," he drawled, "I find this throne to be quite comfortable and completely clean. Now, did you actually have a reason to come here, or did you just want a visit with your favorite son?"

With a small chuckle, Lysander uncrossed his arms. "You are also my least favorite," he retorted, "That's the drawback of being an only child."

"As if I could ever forget."

"I've deployed five hundred soldiers to the Elven kingdom," Lysander suddenly informed Jareth, changing the subject swiftly.

"A wise move to end this war quickly, but why are you telling me this, Father?" Jareth asked, pulling a stray goblin off his shoulders and carelessly tossing it towards one of the shelves with a laugh. It landed on another goblin, and the two burst into hysterical laughter, which rippled through the rest of the goblins terrorizing the throne room.

Lysander winced as a goblin tumbled against his leg. He had forgotten how chaotic and mentally taxing it was to be among goblins. Looking up to his son, he took a deep breath. "I am telling you this, my son," he answered slowly, "Because I want you to go along with them and lead the war in my stead."

Eyes widening, Jareth stood up quickly. "Me?" he exclaimed, "You don't mean that!" The goblins all fell silent as their king took in the news. He was obviously unnerved by his father's request.

"I mean it very much," Lysander replied quickly, holding up both hands in a defensive gesture and walking towards Jareth, "I have faith that you will lead successfully in my stead. Too much is happening in the Underground for me to leave at this time. I need someone I can trust on the battlefield. There is no one I trust more than you."

"But, but," Jareth stuttered, his shock leaving him dazed, "I have no experience whatsoever. How can you possibly trust a novice like myself?"

The High King frowned. "You're my son," he answered, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, "How could I not trust you?"

"I don't suppose I have much of a choice, do I?" Jareth asked quietly, his expression growing very somber.

Lysander clapped his son's shoulder and gave him a shake. "This isn't a punishment, Jareth," he replied seriously, "Please don't view it as such."

Shaking his head, Jareth sank to the ground at the foot of his throne. "No one will take me seriously," he said softly, "Not at my age. You know that, don't you?"

With a sigh, Lysander sat himself next to his son. "Then you will have to prove your worth and earn the respect you need."

Those words were what initially sparked Jareth's quest for perfection. After arriving in the Aboveground, Jareth strove to go above and beyond expectations, resulting in the eventual respect he now held among most of the camp.

But as the years dragged on, Jareth could feel parts of himself slipping. His wish granting, for one, was something he missed. He hardly laughed any more, which was saying a lot, as the role of Goblin King was a gleeful one. Jareth could tell he had become more and more of an adult. For the most part, it was a good thing. It wouldn't do to have the High Heir acting like a child; there was enough of that behavior from Odysseus. But there were some times when Jareth wished he would have been able to relax and be free like he once did.

xXx

Two weeks passed since Sarah had returned from her unfortunate 'accident', and Karen had been nothing but kind to her. It was eating Sarah alive inside. Every time Karen greeted her with a warm hug and a gentle smile, she had to fight the urge to cringe. She didn't deserve her sister's kindness when she was lying to her face. It felt so wrong.

But it had to be done. She had to keep up with the 'amnesia' act in order to preserve her own life as well as the lives of others.

It was late in the evening. Supper had been hours ago and the family had retired not long after. However, Sarah found herself unable to sleep. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease that was tugging in the back of her mind, and her mind was plagued with memories of the past. After tossing and turning for far too long, she finally threw her legs over the side of her bed and sat up in frustration.

"Sarah, quickly now!" Karen whispered, glancing nervously over her shoulder. It was after midnight, and Sarah was very groggy from being woken up only five minutes ago. Sitting on her bed, she was vaguely aware of her sister lacing up her boots for her, and she mumbled out, "What's going on?"

"We're going on an adventure," Karen answered, finishing lacing her shoes and standing up, "You and I are going to the Elf kingdom!"

"But I thought we were going to live with the Sprites and the Fae," Sarah protested, her words jumbling together due to her sleepiness, "Why are we living with the Elves now?"

Karen sighed and pulled Sarah to her feet. "Because," she declared, "I will be happier there. And you will too. I talked to you about this yesterday, remember?"

"I didn't think you were serious."

Shaking her head, Karen led her sister quietly out of the room. "You seven-year-olds don't take anything seriously, do you?" she remarked sarcastically, "Now, stay completely quiet. Like hide-and-seek. We don't want to get caught."

Quashing the desire to ask why, Sarah obeyed her sister and followed her suit, tip-toeing down the halls and slipping out the kitchen door. Karen hurriedly led them through the courtyard, and ushered Sarah into a waiting carriage. "Go," Karen whispered to the cloaked driver as she climbed into the coach and carefully shut the door.

Sarah was too tired to pay attention to much else that night. She remembered half-walking and being partially carried up a gangplank and onto some ship. She vaguely recalled tumbling onto a prickly mattress, but after that, she didn't know what happened.

When she woke up the next morning and stepped out of the dark, stuffy cabin, the ship they had boarded that night was now far out into the sea. There was no sight of land, and it scared Sarah.

"Where's Karen," she asked a nearby deckhand, who was winding up a large rope. He looked up and frowned.

"You mean the princess?" he asked. When Sarah nodded, he answered, "I dunno. Most likely with the prince. They'd be that way." He jerked his thumb to the left, but before Sarah could figure out what that meant, Karen's voice sounded from behind.

"I want you to meet someone, Sarah," she called, "My future husband, Prince Arden, of the Elves!"

Reaching between her mattress and bed frame, Sarah carefully pulled out the crystal the Goblin King had given her, wanting to draw her mind away from the past. She held it up and twisted her wrist, looking for the moving images that would float across the orb. When the king had told her that her dreams would appear, she assumed that he meant her aspirations and goals. However, to her surprise, her actual dreams appeared; the images that came to her mind while she slept. Most of the time only foggy figures and bright colors would swirl around in the crystal. They were absolutely beautiful.

Laying down on her back, Sarah held the crystal above her and watched as strands of green, yellow, orange, blue, and pink twisted and writhed in the foggy glass. Her eyes were finally growing heavy, and Sarah let her arm drop beside her head. Just as she was drifting off to sleep however, the crystal suddenly grew warm in her hand, jerking Sarah into alertness. Jareth was trying to contact her!

Sitting up, Sarah quickly snatched the crystal up in both hands and with little thought of the consequences, whispered into the ball. "Falar." The Goblin King's face swam into view, and Sarah could tell by his expression that he was worried.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, her voice cracking due to not using it for the last few hours, "What's wrong?" Something had to be wrong if the Goblin King was trying to contact her, especially at this hour.

Jareth's eyes shifted to the left and to the right before he answered. "There is a slight possibility that you may be in danger, Princess," he answered in a whisper, "I need you to listen very carefully to all I have to say."

xXx

Rising from his bed, Arden quickly dressed by the light of the moon, making sure not to wake Karen who was sleeping beside him. She had since forgiven him for suspecting Sarah a liar. Arden hadn't bothered telling her that he was even more certain that his assumption was true, however. He was just glad his beloved was speaking to him again.

The prince hadn't fallen asleep that evening; he didn't want to risk his mission by losing track of time. This plan hinged on so much proper timing that it would have been completely idiotic to remain abstracted. He could sleep when the war was over.

Once he was fully dressed, the elf prince quietly exited his room, shutting the door carefully behind him. It felt as though he was a child again; sneaking out of his bedroom to get into some sort of mischief. Only this time, he was planning far more than mischief.

He was greeted in the hall by two incredibly tall elves dressed entirely in black. They silently nodded in greeting, and the trio quickly hurried down the corridor. Stopping at a door, Arden reached to open it, when it was wrenched open from inside. Arden's eyes locked with the wide eyes of Sarah.

Quickly, one of the two elves behind the prince took hold of the princess and dragged her back into her room, clapping a hand over her mouth to hold back her shriek. She kicked and thrashed, but the elf was at least twice her size and had no trouble holding her back. The second elf pulled out a handkerchief and, as soon as the first released Sararh's mouth, held it tightly over her mouth and nose.

Slowly, the princess's movements became lethargic, and her eyelids began to flutter. After a moment, she became limp in the elf's arms. Arden smirked.

"Tie her up," he ordered, turning around and exiting the room, "Tightly. And be sure to gag her. We don't need any unnecessary noise where we're going."

xXx

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