Disclaimer: I own only Wr-me. I do not own Jareth, even though it is painfully obvious that I wish I did. But, it is as I always say to him, people cannot own other people, it is just not right.

My music recommendations for this chapter:

Naked by… Bugger! I forgot the name…

This music recommendation thing is stupid anyway – moving onward!

It was a typical day for me. I was at my working establishment, slaving in front of a silly, glowing computer monitor and feeling horribly bored to death. My job is so very boring. A monkey could do it. But, as it is that I need to have money to do anything of value or interest, and the almighty company that I work for pays me in what I do, I continue to work for them.

Gracious me, I was so bored that the only thing I could do to keep from nodding off on the spot was to dream of that sexy beast, Jareth. Even though I am very stubborn in the belief that people cannot own other people, I do like to think that he's mine – yes, I know that is very hypocritical of me, but he's just so dashing, it is very difficult for me to be otherwise. He is just so handsome with his spiky hair, mystical eyes and strong arms. I just cannot help but be somewhat possessive of him.

And, heavens, despite the fact that I do see that ruggedly good-looking Goblin King every spare minute that he has, I have trouble dreaming of him without assistance. Perhaps my mind's eye is in need of corrective lenses. I do not really understand this issue. Anyhow, as I was saying, I need assistance, and so, as I have stated previously, I took to slathering my working station with pictures of that Bowie fellow, who only vaguely resembles Jareth.

That movie which he stars in about Jareth – I really need to tell him more about that – is rather inaccurate… from what Jareth tells me. They did portray the Labyrinth with fair accuracy, but unfortunately that Bowie character is all wrong. Aside from the similarities in facial structure, attire, voice, eye coloration, eye markings, and mannerisms, he isn't much like the real thing. The real, and far more dashing, Jareth has broader, stronger shoulders and whiter teeth. And have you seen his skin? Very different texture, I assure you.

And, goodness me, I am not the only one to notice this about… my cubicle. My very astute coworker, Allie, noticed this as well. It was while I was sitting there, staring at one of said pictures rather than doing my actual job, that Allie decided to comment upon it.

"Wren," Allie said to me as she approached, "I don't get it. What's with, you know, all these printed pictures?"

I sighed, "It's the closest I have to the real thing… while I'm here, I mean."

Allie shrugged, "Why don't you ask him for a real one? You did get a digital camera, not long ago, right?"

I frowned, making my little face scrunch, "Something tells me he wouldn't be up for it. I… I really don't know, I never thought to ask him to pose for a picture."

Allie scrunched her face, though not as cute as me, saying, "Don't tell him to pose. Just ask to take his picture. He'll give you more than you ask for if you ask him to pose."

I had been very generous in considering Allie as a confidant for… myself. Er… Jareth was also very generous regarding me having someone to talk with about my experiences - I do not say it enough, but he really is quite generous to me. Allie had been the most suited for accepting the circumstances. Also, she had seemed to be instantly taken and impressed with Jareth – an appropriate and natural reaction. So far, she'd been exceedingly logical. So… what is wrong with posing?

I laughed, merely to humor her, "Good point… he'd like that too much. I'll bring it up to him when I get home."

And then I went back to staring and dreaming… only this time, of Jareth, the real Jareth, in all sorts of interesting poses… not that I would ever admit that to him, or to Allie. Or out loud at all.

Heavens, the rest of the day went by in an excruciatingly slow daze for me. One of my coworkers – whatever her name is – said something stupid which made me laugh, out of pity, and then that man I sit near said something back to the woman and everyone laughed… it was really not that interesting.

When the day was finished, at long last, I drove home through all that wretched, smelly traffic and staggered through the door into the home that I share with my family. They, like the traffic, are often wretched and smelly. Especially that sister Orla, who is more often than not a very meddling and bothersome individual. But, she does not, thankfully, live at home anymore.

My family was not home when I arrived. They were gone… doing… something… oh, it doesn't matter. They are always out, which is a good thing, as it gives me private time with one said Goblin King.

So, near exhaustion from slaving away at work on a computer which undoubtedly sucks away my life bit by bit, I came through the door, hoping to find the one thing that revives me: Jareth. Heavens! Without him, I would most likely shrivel and wither away into nothingness.

"Jareth?" I called out, "You here?" My often-atrocious English is a direct result of my life being sucked away.

In a flash of incredibly masculine and glittering particles, not messy and overly theatrical as I often claim, he appeared, looking as dashing as ever. I nearly simpered. But, as usual, I did not let him know that.

"Ah, hello, dear Wren," he said in that oh-so-sexy voice of his, striding up to me with a sway in his hips that made me blush and look adorable. "How was your day at work?"

I proceeded to delineate my day to him. I only did so because he asked me to, not because it was actually interesting. Being as how it was mostly the same as it is every day, it did not take very long. The most difficult part was in keeping myself from getting lost in his very presence. It is, after all, so very alluring. Gosh!

We sat in my living room – and is that not the silliest name? No one actually lives in it – and he began to tell me of his current problems with some goblins getting into the Fiery Forest and causing all sorts of mayhem there, and how absolutely wretched it is to sort that out… it takes quite a bit to get a Fiery truly angry, but the goblins have somehow managed to do it, and once they are truly angry it is even more difficult to calm them down and still keep your outfit in one piece. But I didn't listen to a word of what he had to say to me, as I was concentrating on my – his – face.

"Wren," he flatly asked me, lounging backwards on the couch, opposite of where I was lounging as well, and began to play with my feet. I giggled because I like it when he touches my toes. "Did you hear a word of that?"

I nodded, clearly lying to him, "I did…"

"But?"

I smiled a very sweet smile, one that often makes him forget about the lie, "I was just thinking about something Allie mentioned today."

"And what, my dearling, would that be?" he grinned, tracing circles on the top of my foot, giving me shivers, "You seem to be… avoiding the subject."

I met his eyes, "You've seen my cube, haven't you?"

He ground out a sigh. He does not like that workstation. It is demeaning – and the way she plasters it with those absurd photos! They look nothing like m… Jareth.

"Yes, I have." He stopped playing with my feet, and I pouted a little. "Are you going to bring up something about that Bogart fellow?"

"Bowie, GK," I said, using that annoying nickname for no good reason, "It's Bowie, not Bogart."

He growled a little at the name, "Whatever,"

I sighed, "Okay… hold it, don't go bringing Bowie into this. There's no need to get upset over that again."

"You," he said, pointing a well-deserved finger at her, "Are obsessed with that man."

She scoffed, "I am not! Gosh! I like his voice, okay?"

"As if I am unable to sing," he drawled sarcastically.

"And," she went on, as if she hadn't heard him at all – though clearly she had! – "The only reason why I put those pictures up is because they're so much like you…"

"They are not!" he was very indignant. He folded his arms across his muscular chest in order to emphasize his point.

"… and I don't have one of you. That's my point – will you, like, not argue with me for five seconds – and stop pulling those faces at me!" She pushed his legs off the couch – something that was completely uncalled for, because he was not pulling faces at her. Kings do not pull faces.

And then she did it. She got to her feet, dashed to her bedroom in a most undignified – but adorable and rather endearing – way and returned a moment later with her contraption in hand.

"Jareth…" she started off in a guilty way, like a small child who is about to ask for something they cannot have, "I've never asked you… but… can I…can I take you're picture?"

His eyes went hard, "Completely out of the question, Wren. No, absolutely not."

She looked as though she had been slapped across the face, "Wha… why?"

Jareth glared at the silver box in her hands, "I prefer to keep all of my soul, thank you. Photographs, as you call them, steal parts of your soul away, over time. Due to the fact that I am the ruler of a Kingdom, even a goblin one, I cannot allow that to happen."

She scoffed, "What a load of hooey! They do not! And, GK, I'm not asking for millions of photos, I'm asking for one picture! Just one!"

He glared at her, his temper rising, "You seem to forget Wren, that I am Fae. It may take millions of photographs for non-Fae folk to lose anything at all, but I am not willing to risk it – it could have a terribly adverse affect on me."

She squinted and frowned, "Jareth, pictures do not steal your soul anymore than a painting does. We don't lose our souls, okay?"

"Oh, really now?" he said, his handsome eyebrows rising, "Look at that Booty person,"

"BOWIE!"

"Fine, Bolly," he waved a hand dismissively, "Look at all the thousands of photographs he has had taken. You cannot honestly look at him and convince me that he has not lost part of his soul somewhere."

She gritted her teeth and groaned, "Okay, first of all, you suck with names – did you know that? I mean, seriously, you are about the worst person with names, like, ever. It's a wonder you even remember your own! Second of all, I told you to not to bring him into this. Third of all, I… I just don't get you."

Her English was having another atrocious moment, and he didn't quite understand what she meant by that. This, as usual, she did not notice, and went on with her rant.

"You get so mad that I have those pictures up, but I've told you millions of times that the only reason I do have them up at all is because they are the ones that remind me of you – and you are the one I like to look at! So, okay, fine, I want to see your smile while I'm at work, is that such a crime? So, I realize this hurts you, and I think about taking a photo of you to replace those ones that aren't you, and you say no. You have to give me something here, Jareth! Either not get all freaked by the Bowie pictures I have, or let me have one of you!" She threw her hands up in the air. "I can't take this anymore!"

"Wren," he snapped, losing his patience, "I care about you, and no matter what the resemblance is, I cannot possibly ignore and condone you looking at another male – you should know this. You know full well that you would be furious if I had sketches of women, even if they looked like you! At the same time, I do not wish to have a photo taken of me – I am tired of explaining this to you! Why is it you cannot simply accept my wishes on this matter?"

Throwing her self onto the couch in an extremely overdramatic display, she curled up in a small ball and looked away from him, "I'll accept it, but… I get nothing, then?"

Oh, why does she have to do that? No King could bear to hear her voice and see that sorrow… the mere fact that she wasn't arguing back or becoming violent was a sign that she really was upset.

He thought quickly… putting a hand on her shoulder, "What if I posed for you?"

Instantly, her shoulders began to shake with mirth, almost to the point of hysteria. She struggled to sit up, and looked at him, "Jareth… you already do pose… every chance you get! Ahahaha!" she fell over laughing. He was not amused.

Slapping her shoulder, only lightly, he brought her back to the moment at hand. "I am not joking Wren. I have seen your work. You are a decent artist…" Why was this difficult to say? He didn't understand why… "I am willing to sit for you, and allow you to draw me."

He got the desired effect. She sat up and looked at him eagerly, a happy light in her sweet eyes, "Really? You would do that? Can you do that?"

He snorted, in the most noble and dignified way, "Of course I can. I am, after all, the Goblin King."

She rolled her eyes, not so sweetly, "That's not what I meant. I was asking if you could physically do that. You get restless. I know you. You can hardly sit on your throne for longer than a few minutes before needing to get up and dance around. Would you really sit, and hold still for me?"

"Upon my honor," he said, getting to his feet and sweeping in a low bow to her, "Should it bring you joy, I am more than pleased, my Wren, to sit for you, for as long as it takes to produce a likeness that will set a smile to your face."

She leapt into his arms, throwing her own around his neck and kissing him with a deep and fiery passion, driving him to think of things to say to her that would make her agitated… such as:

"Which chair do you recommend for a nude sitting?" he said into her ear, deeply rumbling his voice.

She punched his shoulder hard and he grinned wickedly.

Ages later, he sat on a most ridiculous stool while Wren skittered a pencil across some white parchment in an oddly bound book. Admittedly, it had seemed like a good idea in the beginning, but unfortunately Wren is not the speediest of artists. She is decent in what she draws, many of her works showing adept skill, but… the Goblin King was obviously distracting her. It is perfectly natural for him to be distracting, but why did she have to sketch at such a slow rate?

"Ja-reth!" she said, rolling her eyes, "Stop fussing with your cuffs!"

He had been kind enough to go and change his outfit into her favorite – the blue formal suit – but the gloves were annoying him today. The cuffs were not sitting correctly… or, perhaps he was just getting tired of sitting. No, it had to be the cuffs.

"You are taking far too long, Wren," he said, ignoring her protests and straightening a cuff anyway – it was just so irritating.

She rolled her eyes again, "You've been sitting on that stool for no more than an hour – barely even forty minutes, if that. I'm being nice and simply getting the basics done so you can move around for a bit before I just have you sit so I can get the shading right…"

"You're too meticulous."

She gave him a stare, "Did you, or did you not swear to hold still for me?"

I found my teeth grinding, "I did. I did not, however, think you would be this fussy."

"The more you fuss, the longer this will take, GK,"

The straw that broke the goblin's back – that was it.

He threw my hands in the air, "Wren! Aaargh! You see me every bloody day! I come and visit you every opportunity I have! Why – in the name of the Underground – do you need a picture of me to stare at, when you often stare at the real thing!"

She threw her eraser at the King – her eraser! "You mungo jerk! Do you think I don't know what you do when you can't visit me? Huh? I know! I don't see you every single days, there are some days when you're too busy, and I completely respect that, but you – ha – you have your crystals! You can see me anytime you want! I, a mere mortal, don't have that luxury!"

I love it when she gets angry… That spicy fire lights behind her eyes and she's just seething to where her face goes pink…

"On the contrary, my dear, there are plenty of times when I am unable to see you – mostly out of sheer courtesy…"

Her eyes went huge, "You DO spy on me! I KNEW IT!"

That wench tricked me! "You deceitful minx!" I stormed off the stool and approached her, "How dare you make an assumption like that! I do not spy on you! I watch you from time to time because-"

She balled her fists at her side and glared at me without fear, "Can the flattery, you friggin' perv! When do you spy on me?"

"WHEN I FEAR YOU MAY BE IN DANGER, FOR STARTERS," I roared, unable to stop myself. Did she not see how difficult it was for me to keep an eye on her? I do have duties to attend to in the Underground… and yet I fear for her so. She's so fragile…

Her eyes widened in curiosity, her face going pink, "But what about the bathroom, eh? Or the shower?"

"Never!" I then I could not resist her any longer. When her usually cherubic features harden and steel with anger I see the passion behind her convictions rise with it, and it is far too tempting for me.

I crushed my lips to hers, holding her close and effectively silencing her. Fortunately – or perhaps unfortunately – her anger fades at such affection and she began to melt in my arms… literally. Her knees went weak and I had to catch her and steady her.

Oh, that sexy beast… wait… I… Wren… bloody hell.

Fine! Hang you all! Yes, as you well know, it is I, Jareth, King of the Goblins.

It recently came to my attention that Wren has been writing and posting little 'stories' about us. Oh yes, I am fully aware of them. She really brought this on herself, in insisting that I read other stories of a similar nature – all completely absurd, I must say – and in doing so, revealed to me what she does with so much of her spare time. I am more than encouraging towards the nurturing of her writing abilities, but this nonsense is ridiculously outrageous and terribly biased. While she does base these 'episodes' on fact, they are all highly misleading, inaccurate, and one-sided. Therefore, I felt it necessary to bring you all a true account of some of our dealings.

So, as I was saying, my strong arms caught her deftly and placed her back onto the couch, where she had been sketching me. Quickly – perhaps a little too quickly, after such a kiss from one such as I – she sat up and presented me with her drawing. I sat elegantly beside her.

It was just as she had said, and I do confess that it was rather well drawn. It was merely an outline of my physique, a few details sketched in here and there, but rather plain and unadorned.

Then… I saw her face. Once again, her sweet eyes were cast with sorrow. Curse her! Why must she torture me with those beguiling eyes?

While I did have several things I could think of to say to her, right away, I decided to say something simple. Why burden her with more thought on the problems at hand? "I do not spy on you, Wren," I said, utterly sure of myself.

She shook her head, still looking at the drawing, "I… I'm sorry. I was stressed out… I know you wouldn't spy on me. For all your haughtiness, you are a gentleman."

Finally! The girl made some sense! I grinned at her, "Did you just say I have 'hottiness'?"

A small smile, not nearly large enough, touched her face. "Gosh, someone is full of themselves-" that, I add, is completely false! "-today. I said haughty, as in snobbery."

"Oh." I watched as she eyed the drawing in front of her. I sighed… my vow had been broken. I was honor-bound to make amends.

"Wren," I said, gently taking her sketchbook from her hands, "I am sorry. I did agree to sit for you. I ruined your lovely sketch. Let me… ah, let me fix it."

I conjured a crystal as I sat the drawing on my knees, rubbing the crystal across the bright paper, much akin to how Wren uses her eraser… the eraser that she'd thrown at me.

As I did so, the crystal began to fill in the drawing with all the details Wren would have intended to place in, even making a few minor – and I do mean minor – changes where needed. Despite the simplistic appearance of such magic, it is quite complicated, I assure you.

When I had finished, the result was uncanny, if I do say so myself.

Wren's eyes lit up again at my work. I couldn't help but smile as she snuggled into my arms, resting her head on my chest and embraced me tightly.

"Thank you," she said in a whisper, before completely ruining the moment by adding, "You beefed yourself up a bit, I noticed."

I looked down at her, utterly appalled, "I did not! This is my likeness, exactly."

She snorted into my jacket, "Whatever you say. I love it, regardless. I'll take it to work with me, and hang it in my cube. I can say I drew it if anyone asks, and then I can look at it and see you."

Oh, she was a master at changing the subject, but I decided to take the 'higher road' and not bring it up. Now that the issue had finally been resolved, I brought up the more important subject.

"Then you can take down those Bogie pictures, I assume?"

She shook her head – that rottenly stubborn woman! – "Not all of them. Just a few…"

Ah, Wren will be returning from work soon. I had better finish this. You all know how it would end. I swept her off her feet once again, kissing her soundly for a long time, and so on, and so forth.

And so you now have the truth behind half of her words. I hope that clarifies things in the future…

But, I do confess that there is an issue of this ongoing fanficion addiction my Wren has. The more you review, the more she writes, and the less time she has to spend with… other people who are far more important. Therefore, I hereby request that you do not encourage her further. She may try to dissuade you from this, asking you to review so she can "make it better" and whatnot, but I tell you, her time is better spent elsewhere.

In short, stop encouraging her. I do not appreciate it. It makes her write more… and with increasingly hideous inaccuracies, as I am sure you will note from here on out, thanks to my input here at last.

Well, I believe that covers everything…

All I need now is a simple crystal to seal this entry, preventing Wren from changing it…

Thank you all for your time- do forgive my deception earlier, for it was necessary at the time. I am sure you all have the capability of being logical, and understanding that much. Now… go on and go back to your lives and hobbies and families, whatever and wherever they maybe.

Respectfully signed,

King Jareth of the Underground

Oh, yes, and here are those pitiful comments she insists on placing in these things.

DanikaLareyna: Are you insane? Ah, I recognize your name… Yes, I am certain you are. Pray tell, WHAT is so humorous about leopard-print, as you call it? Both you and Wren… for the love of the Underground, stop laughing! Oh, yes, you are mentally unstable if you think I would even consider doing a 'bounce-dance'. Dear me, the images that conjures… (shudders). And since when am I your possession? I AM THE GOBLIN KING, NO ONE OWNS ME! Bloody hell, I am beginning to sound like Wren…

Anij: At last, someone with a little sense. Why, yes, now that you mention it, I am good at being a hero. No, not you, too – what is so funny about the jumpsuit? I shall have to ask Wren later on that. You are right, I would NOT appreciate it. And, what do you mean with all these letters? Lmao is not a word, I'm afraid to tell you. Blast, I'll have to ask Wren on that, too.

Yami Moon: WHY is that so funny? I – ah – pfft – does the entire Aboveground assume I am incapable of painting? And fluff, what's fluff? Chappie? That is… nevermind. I shouldn't even start on that. For the life of me, I cannot understand why Wren gets so upset when I tell her to do something, but she instantly complies to all your petty demands… If I weren't on a mission here, I would flatly refuse to acknowledge you at all.

Sanoru: Well, really now, did you expect me to just leave her in danger? I'm not an idiot… no matter what Wren says. Don't listen to her. My rugged good looks cloud her judgement, somewhat. All the same, I shall tell her you said well done.

Notwritten: At least you didn't go on about that bloody jumpsuit – I thank you for that. What does it mean? It means that I, Jareth, the Goblin King, am going to fight back against this insanity! THAT is what it means!

Victoria: I am very glad you like Wren's work, but let us all hope that she will not spend so much time on her computer, and more time with me.