Disclaimer: Labyrinth is not mine.

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews: ZapZapYotsuba, Imp, bitter sweet nightmares, vettechgurl, Seridano, bloodyfairy9788, Nyakai, lanabyte, lonely 27, Impressed Guest, hazlgrnlizzy, J Luc Picard, LadyGrey69 and Nicoteen. Here's to you!

Enjoy ;)

Chapter 13: Unexpected Consequences

Sarah never saw it coming.

His mouth slid across hers hungrily, soft as silk and full of promise. She froze instinctively, but before she could protest, he had pulled her close in a possessive embrace. Warm and lean, he fit neatly against her chest even as she realized what was happening and pushed her arms against him. Her meager resistance only caused the monarch to attack her mouth with greater force.

Back and forth, he baited her frozen lips to meld with his own until finally, he felt her arms relax. Sensing her willpower breaking, he wrapped his hands on her neck like a leather cloak, caressing upwards until they rested across her cheeks.

Sarah's thoughts were balancing on a wire. If he had kissed her at any other instant, she'd have tried harder to fight it. But ohhhhh God, Sarah felt her eyes flutter, she was exhausted and his touch was electric. The shock rippled down her chest and through her spine to fill her stomach with the spark of a thousand fireflies. And he felt so right. She was melting against him, feeling her anger wash away with his wave of raw passion. This is what my dream-self wanted, why fight it? She couldn't even if she'd had really tried. He was everywhere. One hand moved to tangle her hair, pulling fiercely on the strands behind her ear before sliding down her neck, then back across her crown as if letting go would be falling off the edge of the world.

She had to exhale her breath of protest against his thin lips. He was so warm. And he smelled so good. She was close enough to drink in his scent—a spicy mix of sandalwood and something wilder, something magical and uniquely his own. The fragrance drenched her lips as he continued to taste her eagerly. He hadn't stilled his lips for a moment. Sarah's concerns were forgotten. She'd been kissed before but ohhhh God, not like this. Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

He was scalding now, sending heat through his lips into her lower abdomen. Sarah fed the flame, slowly parting her lip in ecstasy as she let herself be drugged by his touch. Sharp canines nibbled at her bottom lip, sending a tingle through her tongue, her mouth, and back through her body until she pushed her lips back against his own, fighting to catch up. In that moment of surrender, the world stopped moving. Sarah felt his other hand snake lower across her throat, over her chest, and rest on her hip. The feel of cool leather on her bare skin sent a shiver to her toes, and she exhaled again, moaning softly.

The hand gripped her hip hard and in another instant, the feel of summer sin was gone from her lips and the spicy scent was drifting out of her head. Sarah shivered, confused as to why the room was suddenly so cold. And why she felt so hung-over. She opened her eyes to catch her balance. Two wide eyes, pools of black lead and fire, stilled inches from her own. With their desire clear, the cool blue and brown were pushed thin. Sarah was certain her own hazel eyes showed the same clouded appearance.

Jareth jumped back as if her eyes burned, but the pair's ragged breathing did little to disguise what had just occurred. Her head was clearing now and Sarah noted the world had stopped around them. The crowd had tightened and stilled, and the couple's heavy breathing was the only sound in the theatre as a thousand eyes watched on, poised for a greater exchange, desperate for explanations.

Sarah was no different. But the silent herd was intimidating and good lord this was a private discussion.

Goblin King…Jareth. Just what…why did you do that? Kiss me? She didn't find herself settled to speak anyway.

The look on his face was painful and Sarah immediately regretted her tone. He was clearly torn by what he'd done; she never seen him act so quickly and…urgently. There was no better word for it. He had kissed her like a man who'd never see his love again. But that couldn't be true. It was preposterous even. He'd treated her like a bad penny since her return; troublesome and worthless. He'd tricked her into running the Labyrinth again, choking her with his magic and taunting her to survive. Hadn't he? Was she missing something? Sarah felt lost.

The whole situation made no sense! What kind of a person did all that? Certainly not one with…feelings? Sarah scoffed. It was more likely to throw her off her game. That must be it; a power-play by an all powerful King. He'd tried the same move before of course, in the ballroom, with the poisoned peach and all that dancing…

Jareth.

The king still looked to be in agony. His normally guarded expression was twisted and cross.

Jareth, listen to me, I'm exhausted, starving, and barely conscious here. I know what you are doing but if you do one thing for me, just stop, please. I've had enough of your ploys and I need to finish this Game, return the Labyrinth's magic and go home.

The pain on his face morphed into panic. "What?"

"I need to go home, and I'm not keeping the ma—"

SILENTLY! The force of his thought seemed to echo around the room, but nobody flinched. What do you mean, Sarah?

I know what you did. The Labyrinth falling apart wasn't my fault, it was yours. You did this! You gave me the Labyrinth's magic. YOU! You dragged me into this mess!

We need to talk, Sarah. In private. We have some time before the mid-way feast, grab my hand.

She didn't need to reply; the distrust was painted across her face.

Please, Sarah.

With a single motion, the two vanished amidst a room of chaos to reappear in the holding room from days before. Sarah pulled her tingling hand from his as she adjusted to the shift. A nagging part of her pushed that listening to him was a mistake. Witnesses were indeed preferable to privacy. It was too late now.

His eyes followed her path to the couches. He was giving her space, at least. The thought calmed her nerves slightly.

"I know it's true, don't bother denying it. You lied to me."

"I never lie, Sarah." His voice was taken on an eerie calm now, as if speaking on the weather.

"Bullshit. You manipulated me into thinking I'd ruined the Labyrinth! You blamed me when you giving me magic screwed up this whole place. What kind of sick person does that? Tell me!"

The cultured mask slipped for another second before his face settled. She wasn't used to his silent avoidance.

"Damn it Jareth, say something!"

"And precisely what would you have me say?"

Sarah was incredulous. She'd called him out to his face, hell in front of a thousand beings, and he had nothing to say? The arguing was doing nothing to ease her exhaustion.

"You're impossible!" Her hands strayed to her hair, an unconscious sign of frustration and she sighed. "Just tell me one thing. Why?"

Her plea was so soft, Sarah wasn't sure he'd heard her. He was angled away now, towards the ticking clock in the room and his eyes were blocked by blond hair. Even if his face registered her request, she could not tell. His posture was stiff, his breathing calmer than just after their kiss.

"You disappeared, you know." He still hadn't turned. "Not a sign of you after you woke."

His comment effectively distracted her from her thought and she pinched her face back sharply. "Hunh?"

"I'm still not certain how you managed it." He cocked his head towards her, curiosity in his mismatched eyes. She noticed absently that his pupils had shrunk to normal size. "Pray tell, just what mischief did you cause?"

"The test was in an orchard. I figured it out."

"That explains nothing. Tell me how you masked yourself from every fae watching." He sounded more agitated than angry, rushing through his words.

"Masked? I don't know what the hell you're talking about! I was there, in the orchard, the whole time. I had just figured a way out when I came to the hall."

Something in her statement gave him pause. "A way out?"

"Yes." Sarah turned her face away, refusing to elaborate. She remembered now what she'd wanted to ask before he caught her off-guard. Why all the games? Why that sinful kiss? With all the confusion, she needed to hear it from him.

"You will tell me what occurred in that orchard Sarah. Now."

She harrumphed ungracefully. "And in turn you'll explain all your actions, right?" His stony expression confirmed her lead-in. "I thought so." Sarah had heard enough. If she wouldn't be answered, she'd let him rot in frustration a bit and see how well he liked it. He'd answer her then, she was certain of it. She made for the door and paused only once, mere inches from the knob, but instead of looking back, threw it open and vanished down the hall.

He let her go.

Letting out a huff of air, he slid back down against the door and tried to collect his thoughts. He was still concerned about his actions around her. It was best to settle before slipping again.

The scene in the hall was impossibly inappropriate. He hadn't been in control. He hadn't even tried to hide his emotions. Jareth drummed his fingers against the floor. Orion knew what rumors the Bidders were tossing about now.

But what nobody knew was that the King had fallen in love with the girl and had given her certain powers…

The line echoed through his head. If anyone found out the truth…

He couldn't even consider the consequences. The power was one problem, obviously. He'd broken a serious law. There was a reason Aboveground mortals couldn't perform magic. Thousands of years of wars, treatises, broken alliances, and further entanglements were proof enough that the species couldn't be trusted with near limitless powers. The complexities of the human condition were too great. Their emotions were too strong, their willpower often weak. Strength to carry a tree was one thing. Magic to carry a forest was another. And they'd try it if they had the chance. The Salem catastrophe was a whole other story.

No. Magic was not something the human race could handle.

The second concern was his reason for granting Sarah his magic. Love. The word still sounded strange, even after all that had happened. Even after he'd acknowledged it. The Fae chased, toyed, controlled…lusted. The Fae did not love. It was unheard of. It was unacceptable. But it wasn't impossible.

It was all a matter of pride. The ability to refuse emotional attachments put Fae above their human neighbors. Or so they boasted. As if not needing unconditional attachment made the race stronger. Jareth frowned. Part of the reasoning held merit. He obviously cared too much to be brooding on a scuffed up floor over a girl.

He forced himself to his feet, realizing there was no hope for him now. Not after he'd kissed her. She had tasted of plums and cinnamon cider; sweet like honey and just as ensnaring. It was impressive he'd been conscious enough to back off when she'd moaned. Even now that he'd settled, he could barely remember anything but her lips. He had been lost, a thought that caused him endless concern. It could not happen again. No matter how delicious the moment, he had to restrain himself for her sake. Jareth rubbed his eyes tiredly. The whole situation was a mess.

And he was no closer to figuring out what she'd done in the orchard. He wasn't sure he could reign in his worry if it happened again. He was the Goblin King, damn it. He was not used to being denied by his crystal magic.

The clock struck a chord beside him, signaling the call for the mid-way feast. A ghost of a smile graced his face. No reason he couldn't enjoy a fine meal with even finer company. He promised to make the most of his precious time, even if she still fought him at every turn and refused to share her secret. She had always been a spitfire. And emotions be damned, he'd not let his wall down again.

But if Sarah wanted answers-really wished for them-he would have to give them to her.

Somewhere between her holding room and a third staircase, Sarah was forced to admit she had no idea where she was. She would have asked for directions if she could have, but the empty hallways just didn't look responsive. Where was everybody? After that scene in the hall, the desertion was almost expected. Rolling her eyes, she moved to sit on a shining stair to wait only to be met with an outstretched hand.

"Come Sarah, the feast is waiting."

She only glared. His directions didn't count.

"I know you are starving, don't be a child." Jareth kept his face suspiciously blank. "The food is usually passable."

A low rumble came from Sarah's stomach, and she frowned in annoyance. She was quite hungry. "Fine. But I'm not talking to you."

He only inclined his head and rolled his wrist in acknowledgment. It was enough for now. She offered her hand, and they reappeared in a flash of light before a new set of double doors. The rush of voices inside proved the feast had already begun.

Perhaps, Sarah hoped, they could slip in unnoticed. Her cheeks burned in remembrance of her last scene with the masses. She was certain nobody had forgotten. As much as she tried to, she couldn't forget. Damn him, and damn her traitorous body too. She wouldn't let him play her again. The dreams meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Satisfied, she caught his eye and nodded, and the pair pushed open the door to face the chaos.

If the hinges hadn't creaked, Sarah was certain her entrance would have been ignored. But that was all it took to cause a scene. Table by table, guests had turned towards the scrape of rusted metal, probably curious as to who had the gall to show up late to a royal function. Sarah felt a thousand eyes find her and stay, and she squirmed in the candlelight. Nearly fifty tables had frozen mid-bite now, some guests arched uncomfortably to see who had caused the reaction, others had stretched their necks like springs.

It was clear they remembered.

Her whole body itched terribly, but she couldn't move, and she blamed the crawling tingle of her skin on the bug-eyed beings around her. The sound of clattering metal echoed from the back; someone had dropped a utensil. Why was the room so warm? Sarah's stomach lurched as she tugged at her collar. And why were people swaying? The room was spinning now, round tables dancing in mid-air, lights bobbing in and out of vision. She knew she was going to be sick. She had to get out of here. Otherwise, she'd pass out from embarrassment and then she'd never be able to face the fae again. Ever.

"Breathe, Sarah. You need to eat something." Jareth's voice was low and warm in her ear. His arms came up to catch her limping body. "If we sit, they'll ignore us."

She was too faint to fight him, and allowed him to guide her to the head table, barely conscious of how he'd angled his body to protect her from prying eyes. He sat her in the chair farthest from the High King and slid in beside her, still keeping an arm on her shoulder should she fall. But she seemed to be breathing easier now. He allowed himself a moment of relief when he saw her color had improved.

A light chatter picked up in the hall, nowhere near as loud as before, but it covered the sounds of nervous breathing. Sarah let out a sigh in relief as the room stopped dancing.

"Thanks," she mumbled, picking at the ivory tablecloth.

He nodded and dropped his arm, glaring suddenly at the guest ogling him at the next table. The woman turned away sharply and quickly stabbed at her salad. The room noise picked up again.

Sarah had allowed herself a few moments before shuffling her chair under the table. She too had seen the look the guest had given the Goblin King. And it was certainly at him, not at her like before. Or had the room stopped for them both? It occurred to Sarah that she was not the only reason for the crowd's silent treatment. More than a few blue-eyed guests were now throwing odd glances Jareth's way. Well, he had been responsible for the…spectacle after all. Sarah frowned. He had settled down far easier than she had, but he had clearly been upset by his display. His ploy may have gotten out of hand? How unlike him. He always seemed to have everything so frustratingly in control. She needed food. Food, then answers.

Someone placed a bowl of steaming soup before her, and Sarah dug in, not stopping to cool her spoonfuls. A goblet of sweet wine, a bitter salad and a creamy yogurt dish came and went just as quickly. As Sarah picked at what she assumed was the main course, a leg of some unrecognizable meat, she properly considered the dining room.

It was a ballroom, she thought with some disdain. Ivory clothed tables formed a wide circle around a polished space of floor. A few couples were already swaying to the soft music in the background which twinkled as if bells had been strung to butterflies. Gilded chandeliers hung across the walls and the candlelight, no longer blipping in and out, was laying a sheet of gold across the crystal goblets and pale faces. The shine made white teeth and blue eyes shades lighter than expected.

The room was filled with laughter now, the horrors of the Game seemingly forgotten. Sarah wanted to join them, but couldn't shake the eerie sense of déjà-vu. Had she been here before? She drained her second goblet, still on edge. Those chandeliers were so familiar…

She snuck a glance at Jareth. He hadn't so much as coughed a word since they'd sat. His eyes were lowered to his empty plate, one hand rubbing the rim of his full glass, the other cradling his chin. He was either deep in thought or trying to burn a hole through the china. The thought was vaguely amusing. He sighed, and a soft strand of blond hair fell across his face. Before she knew it, her hand was poised to tuck it back behind his ear so she could continue admiring his face.

Her breath caught.

Whoa, Sarah. That's enough wine for you. She squeezed her hands together on her lap to keep from straying again. The sweet drink had clearly done wonders mellowing her out if she was starting to enjoy his company. Sarah groaned and half-giggled; the candlelight was dancing again.

"Contestants, Bidders, and honored guests", a strong voice shot out, "on this night of merriment, let us enjoy our drink and dine in honor of runners past and present. Let us celebrate those who prove their strength and wit, and dance in the light of a new glorious ruler." The High King finished his speech to polite applause, and a shuffle of chairs against marble.

"Damn." Jareth's voice was rough with frustration.

"What? They picked a ruler already?"

"Stand up, Sarah. It seems you'll be blessed with further attention."

"I won?" Her voice was squeaking, and she shot to her feet, stumbling slightly. A frown and jerk of Jareth's head stopped her from continuing.

The High King spoke again. "Contestants, please address your partners for the first dance."

"First dance? Oh no. No way am I dancing", Sarah moaned, swaying towards the doors.

"I assure you, you have no option in the matter. I am certain some charming Bidder is willing to join you."

Even half-conscious of her body, Sarah couldn't help but notice how bitter he sounded. The wine was distorting her vision though, and her brain suddenly felt a bit jumbled. The thought left just as quickly as it came.

"Mhmm. Right then. Dancing."

She skirted around the table and slowly zigzagged across the room, grasping the chairs for support. Nobody offered an arm. Nobody moved towards her. Sarah leaned on a table near the dance floor as she giggled again. The polished floor looked utterly fascinating. Somebody gasped nearby, clearly at a loss for her actions. Sarah just tried to keep the floor from bouncing.

Jareth quickly became aware of an unexpected consequence of his kiss. The Bidders were avoiding Sarah. She was holding the back of a chair, just waiting for an offer, but nobody was stepping forward. He frowned. In fact, they weren't even looking at her now. Apprehensive eyes fell upon him, as if he was expected to lead her out as his untouchable possession. The masses were cautious. Indeed, the wary looks reminded him of a herd of goblins after a bogging threat.

This was a problem. If the Bidders wouldn't offer her a hand to dance, would they even grant her favors in the Game? Had she become completely off-limits?

Fear was a very powerful deterrent, it seemed. For her sake, the monarch hoped he could control himself. Dancing with her was just as dangerous.

"Come, Sarah, just hold on." He appeared out of nowhere, taking her to the side of the floor. "Five minutes and we depart." Jareth felt her arms take his shoulders, and wondered if she had any idea where she was. Or who she was with. He felt certain had she been clear-headed, she'd have beaten him with a goblet instead.

All Sarah knew was that she was spinning too fast. The colors were too bright, the laughter too loud. She buried her head into the warm body holding her up, grateful for the support. The person smelled familiar, Sarah decided. Certainly nice enough to hold onto until the spinning stopped. She let herself fall into him and relished the feel of his arms tightening around her waist. Nice enough to rest for a minute. She hummed in satisfaction and Jareth stiffened.

"Breathe, Sarah. Just until we can sit."

Recognition flickered for an instant and Sarah opened her eyes to find long blonde hairs blocking her vision. A breathy sigh on his neck caused him to freeze again.

"Can't see nothin'…hair tickles…" The phrase was more giggled than spoken. She blew harder.

"That's…" he swallowed quickly, throat dry. "That's enough, Sarah. Just another minute."

Whether she'd understood him was unclear, but she stopped. Perhaps, Jareth hoped, he would make it through the rest of the dance without throwing her against a glitter-painted wall and attacking her lips again. Or more. Her smell was enticing enough to drug him, and the wine she'd drunk made her breath hot and sweet against his throat. He felt her squirm against him. By the Gods, she was making this far too difficult. He wished he had vanished that second goblet she'd requested; Sarah was far more intoxicated than she should be. Why hadn't he told her of the Fae wine's potency? He felt her slouch flat across his torso, and before he could add another check to the 'errors of the evening' column, he was forced to press his body tight to hers to keep them both from collapsing. The only blessing of her intoxication was that she probably wouldn't notice the rising attention his body was giving her.

This dance needed to stop, now, or things were going to escalate whether he wanted them to or not.

"We're leaving." The music barely ended with his phrase. He didn't even pause to bow to the High King before twirling a crystal and sending them to her waiting room, laying her gently across a couch and conjuring a blanket. He allowed himself one last glance at her sleeping form before turning to the door. She needed the rest before the Game continued tomorrow.

And he needed an ice cold bath.