A/N: I AM TERRIBLE AT UPDATES, I am so sorry. But I have 3 jobs and am trying to start up my own art print/jewellery business, and it's almost Christmas, so forgive me please and keep reading!

Oh and did you think I'd have an author's note without a Bowie reference? Here's one for you: my 2 year old nephew now adores him and can pick out the different Bowies no matter how he looks. His favourite album is Scary Monsters. Well done Aunty, well done.

Chapter Seventeen: Duty and Progress

There were worse things in the world than looking twenty-five forever. Sarah knew that it really shouldn't bother her at all – and there was still the possibility that it wouldn't, given that they didn't know how she'd be affected. Maybe she would just age a little slower than usual. Maybe she'd keep getting older and older and look it – what would a three-hundred-year old look like in real-time? The thought made her skin prickle despite the warmth of the steaming bathroom. She'd left Jareth a few doors down, snoring and dreaming as if he hadn't slept for decades. He was so beautiful in so many ways, but she couldn't deny that he wasn't ridiculously handsome on the outside too. If – no, when – they found a way to make him immortal again, what would he think of her skin thin as parchment, her bones half-dust with the years? He'd probably still love her, the sweet idiot. She didn't actually doubt that. Still, something turned her lost gaze back to the mirror, to her unsmiling reflection.

Living should leave marks. It was the natural way of things. You got chubby on your mother's milk; you lost baby fat and sprouted more hair; you collected scars and scabs and tan lines; you got crow's feet and frown lines and your hair changed colour with sun and age. People read each other from faces marked by life. Who would read her? How could she let them, when they might notice that she didn't look anything close to thirty, forty, fifty? She'd be a freak, an ageless creature who heard the wishes of children and intermittently glimpsed visions of her lover's future.

She'd always hoped to look like her mother in the years to come.

Old polaroids given her to by Laura Williams showed that Sarah did resemble her, in many ways, when she'd been in her twenties. But it wasn't enough. Parents who divorced when you were seven left a few holes in your soul. It left spaces. Especially when your mother was Laura Williams, Broadway Star, who loved you as much as her work, the latter of which always seemed to win top priority. If Sarah couldn't always see her mother, she'd at least hoped to catch glimpses in herself one day. Shoulders equally freckled by the sun, laughter lines in the same places, stretch marks from having children, glasses for reading.

The possibility of not having that made her feel like she'd been robbed of something.

Not that she wasn't grateful for what Jareth had done. Of course she was. But gratitude didn't necessarily lend itself to abandoning the things you'd hoped for in a different future. Not in her books. Sarah sighed loudly, pressing a hand to her scrunched up eyes.

"Shut up," she murmured.

"I haven't said a word, pet."

Her surprise didn't last long at finding Jareth in the doorway, clad in familiar tights and loose black shirtsleeves. He hadn't wasted any time in donning the clothes of his old life. "I was talking to my brain," she replied, searching for something to dry off with. Staring at herself in the mirror until the steam dissipated had left her suddenly cold. "Where's my towel?"

"You know very well where it is," Jareth declared meaningfully, in a practiced voice.

She snapped her head up to find him grinning, eyebrows disappearing into that wild fringe and his hands poised on those slim hips. "Do I need to point out that we're in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City? You couldn't have sent it off to where it already was. For one of many reasons."

"No, I couldn't have," he responded blithely, stepping into her path. "But I could have thrown it out into the hall."

She was still dripping wet, hair plastered to her face, splashing water on the stone tiles. "Well un-throw it, would you? Fetch. There's a good boy."

"I'm not a dog." His hands came to her waist and she found her irritation ebbing. He brushed a thumb over her appendectomy scar; she thought of all the times he'd kissed it. His smile was annoyingly smug.

"I thought you said I'd destroyed your ego?" she looped her arms around his neck.

"I may have been a touch overdramatic with that declaration. Difficult not to get swept up when I hadn't seen you for weeks." Kisses, delicate enough to spark irritation with their distinct lack of pressure.

Maybe Brynn was right. Maybe she was too easily distracted by Jareth. His next kiss landed on her nose as she ducked away from it. "I want to know what's going to happen to me," she announced in reply to his questioning brow.

"In what way?" All flirtatious intent vanished from his expression. The hands on her waist were no longer teasing but supporting. He always knew when she was really bothered by something.

"Am I going to age?" she murmured. "Will I look like this forever? Am I going to shrivel up beyond recognition? I want to know, Jareth. I want to know something about the future."

The usual cryptic crap was likely to be his answer. Platitudes about how nobody could be sure of their future, especially in a case like this. "Then we'll find the right people to ask," he said. "Wait here, love. I'll fetch your towel." With a chaste kiss he left her smiling in surprise and ducked out into the hall.

He was a good man. A really good man. Vague memories of an earlier vision stirred in the back of her mind: Jareth entertaining a bunch of children, a look of pure contentment on his face. Whose kids they were, she could only guess.

Something whispered faintly to her.

"What did you say?" she called as he returned, handing the towel to her as solemnly as if he hadn't thrown it away in the first place.

"Nothing, pet," he replied.

I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now.

Sarah shivered, half-wrapped in the towel. No. Not again. Not so soon. She began vigorously rubbing herself dry, hoping she'd just imagined it.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she lied. "I'm just –"

I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now.

"Shit," she swore, hands frozen in the act of wringing out her hair, meeting Jareth's concerned face with a pained expression. "Someone's made another wish."

"I'll go with you." Not an ounce of a question was there in that voice.

Despite her desire for nothing less, Sarah knew she had to be strong. "Don't be stupid. If the goblins see you they'll eat you alive. You can't defend yourself with no magic."

"I'm touched that you have such faith in my abilities," he sniffed.

Sarah gave his hand an apologetic squeeze. "I just want you to be safe, Jareth."

"And what about you? Who'll keep you safe every time someone makes a wish?"

"I'm the Goblin Queen," she told him with a forced smile. Would that title ever feel like it fit her? "I'm pretty much untouchable now."

There was a small collection of clothing in the corner of the bathroom on a heavy shelf. It was easy to settle her nerves when concentrating on the motions of getting dressed. Jareth was watching; she could feel his eyes on her as she slipped on a bra. She went about it with little care, snatching up jeans and a tank top. But when she turned to face him he wasn't smiling appreciatively or anything of the sort. He looked…disapproving. "What?"

"Your attire doesn't invoke stirrings of fear and awe, love," he told her, frowning as she reached for a pair of old sneakers.

"It didn't seem to make a difference earlier," she replied with a shrug. "Besides, I'm not going for the whole 'fear and awe' thing like you did. I'm not going to change outfits every five seconds and shower everything in glitter."

"I didn't change that often," he scowled. Sarah tugged a sneaker on. "You would look rather inspiring in a black dress, at least. Something with a little more…gravitas."

"Something that shows a little more skin, you mean," she mumbled, thinking of the backless gown he'd made her for the Harvest. The things he used to wear had left nothing to the imagination of her fifteen-year-old self. Lord only knew what he'd put her in, given the chance. "I'm going to be late. I have children waiting on me."

"We'll work on it," he said, following her to the door. "Change is wonderful but that doesn't mean we have to sacrifice style."

Sarah felt no compulsion to roll her eyes. He may have sounded insincere but the way he stuck to her side told of what was really going on. Their banter was nothing but false bravado, procrastination. She knew because it was the way she dealt with things too. If they were too busy making fun of each other he wouldn't notice the nervous tremble in her hand. And she could pretend not to see the flex of his fingers, just itching to hold her, make her stay, keep her safe.

But nobody could promise that anymore. They were all through the looking glass with no way back.

"You'll be late," Jareth said softly behind her.

She'd just been standing there with a hand on the doorknob. Sarah shook her head. "Can't believe I have to do this again already," she muttered, turning to him, sighing as he pressed his head to hers.

"It's not a job that affords regular hours. Sarah…just remember that everyone is different. Every case, every runner. You have to feel your way around them. And -" he stroked her cheek, eyes heavy with the burden of experience. "Please, please remember that you can't always save them. And that it's not your fault if you can't."

She wanted to snap at him that she'd damn well save any kid who threw himself under a bus like this. But only because he'd voiced the fear inside her. Old habits die hard; it was difficult to reign in her temper when she was constantly on edge about making a mistake. After all, lives depended on it now. She caught up his hand, pressed into the hollow of her throat. I wish you could come with me. That was her own wish this time, tucked away inside her own head. But she didn't dare breathe it out. He'd face a thousand fanged goblins if she did. Strong. Be strong. "You just worry about finding the right person for me to ask about this immortal stuff." That was better. Her voice barely shook.

He opened his mouth to reply and was cut off by a shout on the other side of the door. More than one shout. A fair few, and a fair amount of ominous growling and chittering too. They exchanged wary glances, Jareth being stubbornly blocked as he tried to stand in front of her. If her suspicion was correct, there was no way she would let him stumble out first. Ignoring his plaintive expression, she gripped the handle resolutely.

And opened the door to a scene that demanded no less than a heavily sighed: "Oh, for fuck's sake."

Goblins. Everywhere. Half a dozen crouching in the hall ready to pounce; a select four attempting to push their way through with curses rough for even a creature of the Underground. The source of the chittering was obvious in the furious tail-lashing of the fanged beasts at her door. The cursing…well, Hoggle was very obviously drunk. And the others were oddly impressionable when drinking with him. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the din. "What the hell is going on?!"

The stink of the creatures amplified as they all turned to stare at her, fowl breaths heavy in the air. She heard the clink of nails on stone and forced herself to glare into the red eyes of the beasts, refusing to show fear. The clicks and tail-lashing ceased immediately, yet she couldn't help dreading what would happen when they noticed Jareth behind her. Inwardly she prayed he would just keep his mouth shut and stay out of view. As if he was capable of that.

"Ssssaraaaah!" Hoggle slurred loudly. His hands were raised in fists at the other goblins, his eyes glazed but bright with idiotic fire. Didymus looked equally ready to jump at someone's throat, with his dulcimer poised over his head as if it were a sword. Ludo, as usual, was just following his friends. Even if it meant into trouble.

"M'lady!" the tiny goblin cried, swaying on the spot. "A wish's-been-made!"

"I know that, Didymus," Sarah said with a roll of her eyes. The wish of the child was starting to loop in the back of her mind with insistency. It set her teeth on edge. "I meant, why the hell are you all fighting outside my door?"

"These no-good Bog-brained fang boys won't let us nowhere!" Hoggle shouted indignantly and much louder than was necessary. "We told 'em to stay out o' the Queen's rooms an' they won't budge! Creepin' up everywhere, stalkin' the halls, it ain't right! Tell 'em we gots permission to come an' find yer, Sarah."

"This is the most disrespectful display I've ever laid eyes on," said Jareth behind her angrily. Every muscle in Sarah's body tensed as he pushed his way forward. You couldn't quite take the King out of him. Hands on hips, mouth a furious thin line, he was all sharp points and icy reprimand. "Not one of you has any right to be wandering the Queen's private quarters. It has been that way for centuries and it will not change now. And what's more: you will show all due deference in her presence. You will address her as Your Majesty, or Ma'am, not her birth name as if you were cradle-mates. Do I make myself clear?"

Human as he had become, stripped of titles and rights, Jareth could command an attentive audience. Hoggle fell silent immediately. Didymus bowed so low to the ground that he was in great danger of tipping over completely. Ludo looked about as meek as he possibly could for someone five times the size of everyone else.

But he'd gotten the wrong kind of attention from the others. Vicious noise exploded around them; goblins surged around Sarah and dragged Jareth to the ground.

Dead king dead king – Sarah shrieked as he disappeared beneath a mob of teeth and claws – better off dead thing – Ludo's long arms reached out and pulled Jareth into halfway out – mortal king human king – Jareth's bloodied hand stretched out desperately and Sarah caught it – rip apart the nobody thing –

"You're right!" The words were ripped from Sarah's throat in roaring desperation.

The noise died. The goblins paused but didn't relinquish him. "You're right," she said again, as her friends stared in confusion and Jareth hung between Ludo and death. There was a bite mark on his forearm and he was covered in bloody scratches. But still alive. "He's better off dead. Do you know why?"

The monsters glowered but said nothing.

"Because I did more than take his years and send him Above." She didn't dare hesitate, didn't dare make eye contact with Jareth. He'd have something to say about this for sure. But for now he could damn well be thankful. "I brought him back and made him my slave. I decided he didn't deserve to be free of us. I want him to see what I'm going to do for the Goblin Realm. Our realm. And he's going to kiss my shoes and wish he'd been smart enough to respect you all the way I will." The goblin closest to her, a scaled thing with wolfish eyes, glared at Jareth and flexed its clawed feet. They don't believe me. "Drop him," she commanded of them and Ludo. He hit the floor with a grunt and staggered to his feet, wide-eyed with shock. Sarah steeled herself. It was the only way to save him. "Did I say you could stand?" she snapped. His frown was expected. "On your knees." The quiet of the hall rang in her ears; only the ragged breathing of the goblins, ready to tear strips, made her continue. "Get on your knees, I said."

His mouth, bearing a split lip, flickered between a smirk and a scowl. For a moment she worried he'd be too proud to save his own skin, but no – dozens of eyes followed as he lowered himself onto his knees before her. It sparked a memory of the night she'd run away: her ankle throbbing, hands on fire, him peeling off his gloves to help her despite his fury. From the position she was the only one who could see his expression, hidden behind wayward strands of hair. Something glittered in those eyes. "My shoes," she commanded. "Kiss them."

Oh, he'd definitely have something to say to her later on. But it didn't matter if she could keep him safe. Bowing low, Jareth pressed his lips to the toes of her sneakers. Funnily enough, the way he squeezed her ankle so nobody could see made her wonder just how he planned on getting his own back. The follow-up caress to her calf as he straightened gave a few clues. "See?" she breathed, surprised by her own light-headedness. "There's nothing left of the King who failed you, so stop looking at him like that."

The goblins blinked slowly in confusion.

Tear the king skin him good snap the bones and lap the blood…?

God, how those voices disturbed her. Skin crawling as she met those devilish eyes, she was nothing but coolly confident. "If you do that, it's going to be a bit difficult for him to serve me, isn't it?"

The goblin – no, her subject – bowed its head.

She thought the best thing was to probably distract them from him now. "I told you not to hurt anyone and you've done well in respecting that. Well done. But I won't have goblins running amok in my private quarters. So you're to stay clear of this level." Hoggle looked about to nod smugly as if he'd demanded those laws himself. She had to do something about that to keep him out of trouble. "I won't have any goblins up here," she reiterated sternly. "That means you as well, Hoggle. And I especially don't want to open my bathroom door to find you all ready to fight. Ever again. Got that?"

"Yes Ma'am," her friends muttered in unison, if a little out of sync and in rather hurt voices.

"You three stay," she called firmly as they made to move away. "I have work for you."

The others bowed their heads and, with a few last hisses at Jareth, made their way downstairs. When they were alone amongst friends once more, Sarah let her knees give way. "Sorry boys," she sighed. "It was the only way I could protect you." Bent double she exhaled a shaky breath, head swimming. How stupid had she been to think a few new rules would keep those creatures in line? One second, just one second too late in thinking and Jareth would have been eaten alive.

"Are you all right?"

She looked up at Jareth in his torn clothes and bloodied façade. "Me? What about you?"

"Just a few scratches," he told her with a shrug.

"You call this a scratch?" she murmured, running delicate fingers around the bite on his arm. His wince belied how much it really hurt. "Come on, Jareth. They nearly killed you."

"But you saved me," he countered softly. "You like to do that, don't you?"

"Force of habit," she replied with a smile. "And if you think I'm going to put up with any whining about the shoe thing, you –"

He silenced her with a kiss. "You used perfect logic on them," he said in a low voice. "Oh, I'm red-faced with shame, don't doubt that. But I'm also rather intrigued by this new position you've put me in. Would you call it…ownership?"

She trembled for a different, rather pleasant reason then, until a forced cough behind them shattered the moment. Brynn had joined them. Jareth tensed, unsurprisingly, the fingers that had brushed her cheek now curling around her wrist. It was childish possessiveness but she was too mad at the other Fae to care. "Where the hell have you been? I could've really used your help!"

"I was returning your Elf friend to his family," the man replied smoothly. A little too smoothly. His words flowed like a slow-running stream, very different from his usual brusque manner. "Sorry for the delay."

"Wick?" she asked, distracted by guilt and sympathy. "How's he doing?"

"S'fine Sarah!" Hoggle interrupted. "The lad's thin as parchment but he's strong as a Dwarf inside!"

"Yes but he has no talent for storing liquor like a Dwarf," Brynn added. "I had to carry the fellow to bed."

Sarah realised it wasn't just booze on her friends that she could smell. It was coming from Brynn as well. His strangely flowing words and his lateness made a lot more sense. "You were drinking too, weren't you?" She had to admit being a little impressed. There was no sway in his steps nor a hair out of place.

"Seemed a 'ppropriate way to celebrate yer victory," Hoggle said.

"Well you can magic yourself up a sobriety potion," she said to Brynn sharply. "I need you."

"I did suggest the Lady would be in need of our services again," Didymus drawled smugly.

"What makes you think I'm letting you all into the Labyrinth again?" she eyed her drunken ragtag group of friends. "I'm grateful for your help the first time, but that was a one-off. I'm not risking your lives every day."

"Well that's just tough," Hoggle grumbled. "Cos you ain't got no say in what we do for fun 'round here, and maybes helpin' a few kids through a maze is on our leisure list."

"Since when?" Sarah replied incredulously. "I thought you said you were a coward, Hoggle!"

"Since the Lady doth insist on dangerous liaisons and ensnaring herself in wicked Underground doings," Didymus answered. "We have taken it upon ourselves to ensure your continuous safety, fair maiden."

"Ah, a word, love?" Jareth drew her aside. "Might I suggest, strongly, that you leave them all out of this run? The state they're in…you're going to have more trouble than help."

She didn't need him to tell her that. Hoggle looked about ready to fall asleep on the spot or vomit profusely. Didymus and Ludo seemed incapable of standing without support from one another. "I'm still putting Brynn in there," she muttered. "He owes me."

"We have very little magical ability when intoxicated, Sarah. He won't be of any use."

"He's still the soberest friend I've got. Magic or no magic, he's a tough guy." This didn't appease Jareth in the slightest but she didn't have time to care. The kid's wish was growing more and more insistent, drowning her other thoughts. Rubbing at her aching head she waved a hand at the drunken goblins. "Go to bed and sleep this off, okay boys? We'll talk about this 'continuous safety' stuff later."

"But –"

"We must –"

"Sawah –"

"Do not question your Queen," Jareth snapped, apparently noticing Sarah's pained expression. "Do as you're told. We'll call on you when we need you."

They obeyed, however begrudgingly. Sarah patted Ludo's back and mouthed an apology as he passed by.

"I'm afraid I'm only capable of transportation for the time being," Brynn said. "And little of that as it is."

Jareth opened his mouth, surely ready to snap again, but Sarah held him off with a soft touch. "That's fine, you can take us there and help the kid in any way you can. Thanks." She met Jareth's eyes. "Go find Lina," she told him gently. "Or someone who can fix you up a bit, okay? I'm sick of seeing you covered in blood."

"I only bleed for your sake, love." He squeezed her hand. "Is there nothing I can do for you?"

"Just take care of yourself. Don't piss off any more goblins. And find out who I can talk to about my…age crisis."

"Thy will be done, precious." They kissed, tenderly, ignoring Brynn's stony turned-away face. Then Sarah reached out for the Fae's arm so that they could be whirled away to their duties.

On the other side of the world, she found a small girl brimming with regret.

"Hey," she called gently. "I'm Sarah."

In a way she was grateful for the years in the Dust Bowl. Growing up a member of the Royal Family, and Heir to the Throne no less, had granted Lina much knowledge of politics. While not entirely boring, it hadn't left much time for practical experience. Life in the Palace had planted seeds in her head; life in the Dust Bowl had forced her to sow them. And so she was content now to stride the length of her mother's office and spew forth commands as they came to mind. She was hardened by experience and burdened by knowledge. She held gravitas with the Council. Well, enough to keep them from throwing her to the Hordes or treating her like a child. More than a few short words had seen to that.

Yet there was still a part of her that itched with unease. She felt it down to her bones. This was the life she'd trained for, had been born for. But Lina El'Maven had once dreamt of running far away with her brother and his books, travelling the Domain until they grew unrecognisable with age. She'd imagined eloping with Kiff and rearing their children on the slopes of Mount Myst. No politics, no laws, just love. Maybe in another version of reality those were real possibilities. Perhaps she was having words with her beloved husband for something he'd forgotten to do; they might have been together so long that she'd learnt the luxury of taking him for granted. Perhaps she and Jareth were knee deep in the heavy snow of the Kittayne Pass, arguing over who'd gotten them lost. Funny how she liked to imagine the bad times among the good. It granted her daydreams a modicum of realness. She'd always been one for committing to the play.

If she could just do so now, they'd sail through the next few days with ease.

"Is it finished?"

She blinked at the parchment spread before her, ink still glistening in its freshness. Her hand was poised with the quill over the spot awaiting her signature. How long had she been staring at it? Marina stood opposite her at the desk, hands folded at her waist, barely suppressing an impatient scowl. And she was the most supportive member of the Council! Lina had a lot of respect to earn. Which was something of a joke, really, considering most of her Councillors had sent her to the Dust Bowl to begin with. Focus, woman. With a quick flourish the parchment was signed and sealed. Marina reached out to take it but Lina tightened her grip at the last minute, forcing the woman to wait.

"Have you word from the others about Jareth yet? Will they allow him to attend the ceremony?" she asked, ignoring the spark of hope that wanted to slip into her voice. The Council were adamant about who could and couldn't attend the funeral of the late Queen, even without a body to view. In this matter she had little say, which didn't bother her too much – except for the fact that she had to be there. It was not her desire to be anywhere near those who mourned the loss of that woman, but circumstance dictated. It was the principle of the matter. And maybe it was selfish of her but if Lina had to go than she wanted Jareth by her side. Even if he was inwardly cursing every breath Mira had ever taken, it would be less painful with him there. Whether the Council let him after all that had happened was still yet to be known. Marina, who had taken a liking to Sarah and consequently put her faith in Lina, had been needling the Council for an answer.

"You ask a very complicated favour of us," she told Lina in that deep voice so like her twin's. "It is tradition for the siblings to be there…but you must understand how we – they – see Jareth now. If not for him, your mother would still be alive. You are asking for the murderer to attend the funeral."

"Jareth did nothing wrong," Lina replied tersely. "Everything that happened to that woman was brought about by the Fates and her own decisions."

Marina didn't blink as she stared at the Princess with those hard eyes. "I was there at the start of her reign, you know. She always said that she 'did what had to be done, and was who she had to be'. You might find yourself living those same words in the future."

"That may well be," she murmured. "But never in the way my mother did."

Fingers still pinching the edge of the missive, Marina's mouth curved up in a subtle smile. "Life has a peacekeeper has done you some good, Princess. Your backbone has hardened significantly since you were a child."

"Do you really think so? Or are you trying to ease your guilty conscience for being on the Council that sent me there?"

"You won't find it easy to gain support with that tongue," Marina replied stiffly.

Lina allowed the envelope to slip free. "I want an answer from them by tomorrow morning," she said bluntly. "The ceremony is in two days." I need time to make Jareth agree to go. Time that she might never have, if they didn't keep piling up her desk with matters regarding the coronation. It was a panicky thought that forced her attention back to the missive in the woman's hands. Her ascension to the throne was being announced today, word sent to every community in the Domain. The inauguration was to be in two weeks' time. It was breaking tradition to have a funeral before such a public event, but they couldn't delay laying Mira El'Maven to rest. Her people were adamant about clarity, about definition between one reign and the next. If it meant the Domain went without a legitimate Queen for two weeks, then so be it.

Dismissing Marina, Lina sank back into her chair with a heavy sigh. She was exhausted by a long night and morning of hammering away at letters and arguing with the Council. Surely she deserved an hour to herself?

"Are you bored by duties of the Throne already, sister of mine? A pity. I'd hedged my bets on you lasting at least a week."

Though her heart soared at Jareth's voice, Lina couldn't help opening her mouth with a smart retort ready – until she caught sight of his red visage. "Who's blood is that?" she asked fervently, springing to her feet. He strolled toward the desk and perched on the edge of it while she busied herself with inspecting him.

"Mine, of course," he answered, fidgeting while she poked at the bite mark on his arm. "Who'd you think it belonged to?"

"You have a nasty track record, brother," she murmured. "I can never be sure if it's not a runner's or Sarah's."

"Well it's mine," he snapped.

"Sorry," she said, cupping his jaw in her hands. "That was insensitive of me. But Jareth…what happened?" She started the healing process while he talked, watching the dark spots of blood disappear with the scratches and teeth marks. When he'd finished reciting and she'd healed his wounds, she found herself welling with irritation. "Of course they attacked you," she chided him. "Why did you think it would be safe to loll about the Castle like that? The hordes need time, Jareth. Time to adjust, to change their thinking. Hive minds are slow to accept new ways."

"I know how the goblins work, Lina," Jareth told her in a low, careful voice. "I ruled them for over a hundred years, you might recall."

"I'm just saying that you need to be wary," she replied gently, softening her tone. She took up a seat on the edge of the desk beside him. "You're not indestructible."

"I'm growing very bored of people assuming I'm made of glass," he grumbled, picking at a torn thread in his shirt.

"How is poor Sarah handling it? She understands, doesn't she?"

"That she'll most likely outlive me? Yes, there's been some discussion about that. She seems to think she can fix me. Won't allow any other possibility."

Lina smiled. "I do like that woman."

"I'm rather fond of her myself."

He was more than that, of course. Just how much did she mean to him, this woman? Was she worth more than a few centuries on the Throne? Lina knew the answer in her heart, but couldn't bear to think about it just yet. "Where is she? I thought you'd have chained yourselves together to avoid being separated again."

"She's answering another wish," he said in a forcibly casual tone. "No rest for the deliciously wicked."

He'd never been able to hide his doubts from her, but that response had lacked any semblance of commitment to the lie. "You're worried about her."

"Naturally," he sniffed, brushing the hair from his eyes.

"She's stronger than I am, you know."

"I never said you were weak," he told her sharply. "I never meant it that way when I took your place."

"I know," she murmured, looping their arms together. "Sarah was meant for this role. She brings something to it that nobody else could ever manage."

"That doesn't mean I can't worry about her."

"No, it doesn't." He looked ready to pout or sulk or else ruin her hour of freedom, so she made the decision to move them along. "Come on." Tugging on her brother's arm, they left the office in search of a nice view. Precious little time was left to her for such luxuries. Admiring the gardens with Jareth would take the sting out of a busy day. "How exactly did you get here, by the way?"

"A gateway left open," he told her with a petulant sniff. "Shoddy craftsmanship at that, if you ask me. The weave won't hold longer than a few days."

"Ah. I see."

He frowned at her knowing smirk as they reached the doors to the North Balcony. "What?"

"We knew Brynn Fel Vaden as children, brother. Don't you remember? He was never as bad as you made him out to be. A little aloof, yes, but he's a descendent of Ezra. That's to be expected."

"How can you make light of this?" Jareth grumbled, sweeping back a curtain of ivy for her to pass through. "You know what he did to Sarah."

"And I know he's seeking penance for it," she told him sternly. They took up a position leaning against the marble balustrade together. The air was cool and fresh; oh how she'd missed the clean Palace winds. "Why do you think he's spent the last few days by her side?"

From the dark look on his face he had a few unpleasant suspicions.

"Jareth. Brynn is no threat to Sarah. That man feels guilt, not some silly transference of loyalty between rulers. For someone like him to show regret is important."

"I regret every goblin I sent into the Labyrinth after a runner, every child who I made weep with my taunting. That doesn't erase the fact that I still did it. What's done is done."

"So you're saying you aren't worthy of forgiveness either? Or redemption?" Lina frowned. "How do you live then, brother? How do you face each day under the weight of that guilt?"

"I face each day for Sarah," he answered simply.

"And do you not think that's exactly what Brynn might be doing?"

He didn't have a response to that.

"In a non-romantic fashion, of course," she continued on, satisfied by his silence. "I doubt he's progressed so far into the expansion of his emotional range as to understand what attraction is."

Her wry tone and serious expression wrung a smile from him. Fleeting, but there long enough for her to see. Visibly relaxing, Jareth tapped a rhythm on the marble with nimble fingers. It struck her just how long it had been since they'd stood like this together in the Palace, conversing and bickering and soothing one another's hurts. He'd been a different person then, a lanky bookish youth with limitless patience reserved for her. Stilling his fingers with her own hand, Lina gave his wrist an affectionate squeeze the way she used to as a baby. "Do you remember when I used to steal your books so you'd have to stop studying?" she murmured, propping her head on his shoulder. "You never once shouted at me."

"Not even when you dropped my favourite thesis into the Borderland marshes," he replied idly. "I should have been given a medal for my ability to not yell at you."

"It was nothing a little magic couldn't take the mud out of."

"I swear I was smelling it for days afterwards. The marshes weren't dissimilar from the Bog, in those days."

"You got your retribution," she chastised him. "I was itching for weeks after those Scritch Beetles somehow got into my bed."

His laugh was sudden and wondrous. "I'd forgotten about that."

"I need you to attend Mira's funeral with me." Inwardly she winced. She'd intended to step around the notion, to warm him up to the idea first. Not throw it in his face with abandon. Maybe it was the talk of the past, of how much he meant to her, that drove her to ask so bluntly. Anxiety had been filtering through since she'd realised she'd be forced to go.

Jareth seemed more surprised by the change of topic than what she was asking. "I wondered when you'd bring that up," he murmured unhappily. "The Council won't allow it."

"I'm working on them. I'll have their answer soon enough."

"You have to go, don't you?"

She nodded. He said nothing, staring into the gardens below them. "Jareth –"

A loud throat-clearing stopped her short. Turning to the doors as one, they found Brynn approaching. The look on his face left no question as to why he'd appeared.

"She's finished?" Jareth asked stiffly, receiving a curt nod from the other man.

"Already?" Lina met her brother's worried gaze. It must have only been a few hours. Nobody solved the Labyrinth that quickly. It meant only one outcome. She reached out to squeeze Jareth's hand in support but he was already rushing up to meet Brynn across the balcony.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"She asked to be taken to the library," Brynn answered, his voice giving away no clues as to Sarah's condition. He'd offered his arm before Jareth even had the chance to ask to be transported. Then, turning back to Lina as if they hadn't been interrupted, Jareth laid his free hand on her shoulder.

"I only dreaded the day you asked me because I knew I wouldn't say no," he said gently.

Her sigh of relief got stuck on the way out, caught somewhere between worry for Sarah and guilt for her brother. "Thank you," she murmured before he disappeared with Brynn.

Alone on the balcony, she took a moment to think on what she'd been avoiding. It was nice to see her brother's face light up with love and concern over someone other than herself. Someone who could be there for him in ways a sister wouldn't be. And it cemented in her the belief that when it came down to it, what she'd decided to do was absolutely the right thing. No matter the cost.

There was little time for talk, which was perfectly fine by him. One moment Jareth was catching a strangely resolute gleam in Lina's eyes and the next he was whirling through a stream of black and colour. He had to hold tight to Brynn's arm; losing his magic had left him without much stomach strength for transporting. He was dizzy when they arrived outside the library but did his best not to let the other man know.

"Was it bad?" he asked Brynn, ignoring the white spots flickering at the corner of his vision.

Brynn straightened his jacket with a blank face. "Not particularly," he answered. "Not compared to anything you've seen. But I would exercise caution. She seems…sensitive."

Jareth grumbled a reluctant thanks before leaving the man alone in the hall. The library was quieter than he remembered, the books' Songs subdued. Neglected. The sad thought was meek against memories of the time he and Sarah had spent in this room, arguing and reading in silence and falling in love. He liked to think the library would hold those memories within it forever, keep it safe against anything beyond the door. Moving deeper into the sitting area he found her.

She was lying prostrate on the lounge, hugging a pillow to her chest and looking as if an invisible weight had pinned her there. The ceiling seemed to hold her attention for the moment, eyes wide and focused. She barely blinked as he took a seat on the floor beside her. He didn't say anything, didn't need to. What words could he offer right now? Instead, he wove fingers into her hair and swept it gently back from her face.

"I did everything right," she said blankly after a while. "I talked to her about the kid she hated; I asked about her life; I told her all the things I told Luka. Brynn helped her stay safe. I thought she felt guilty, that she'd understood what she'd done. But then it was like – it was like she just gave up. The maze got too hard. She just – wasn't strong enough. Or clever enough, or caring, or whatever the hell you'd think she'd have been." Sarah turned her wide eyes to him, expression unchanging. "She told me I could just have the kid and off she went. Didn't even care about the life she'd just ruined."

Jareth had been through this a thousand times. He understood. And he knew what he needed to tell her, what had taken him decades to learn on his own. "What happens to people in this game is self-determined," he told her gently. She curled up onto her side, one hand reaching out to lay against his shoulder as he continued stroking her hair. She was so young, by his standards, but in that moment she looked as old as any Fae. And as tired. Centuries and heavy burdens did that to anyone just the same. "You can move the pieces and guess all you like but in the end it's what they've been through that helps them make the choice. You can't change who a person is in two hours, love."

"So deep down some people are just nasty selfish assholes?"

"It's not always as simple as that. Sometimes when it's a child they get scared. They make the wrong choice without thinking too much about it. And yes, there's consequences that they won't have to live with, but it's just the way it goes. It doesn't make them bad people. They just had weak moments."

"Well a weak moment for Abigail just cost Diego his life as a human."

"A word of advice, pet: passing judgement just makes you weary. Accept the outcome and move on."

Sarah rolled onto her back again, resuming her old position, and exhaled hard. "Tough job, hey? I can see why you quit."

"I didn't quit, if you'll recall. I was ousted and forced to serve my usurper. At least that's what the goblins think."

She wriggled into the back of the couch to make room for him and soon they were pressed together sharing breathing space. He could feel the tension beginning to ease from her. "I knew you wouldn't just let that go."

He smiled gently and kissed her once. "Well at least the creatures will be happy, now that they've gotten a new addition to the horde."

"They think it's a game now, how many humans they can trick or scare into becoming like them. They think it's a way of getting their own back, I guess. Which is fine by me, I suppose, as long as they don't kill anyone."

"A wise position to take."

"Don't see that I have much choice anyway."

"You say that often for someone who just stood the world on its head so she could keep her boyfriend."

Her eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "Oh, so we've approved that term now have we?"

"You're very persuasive. As I said once before, you're quite used to getting your way."

"I thought you were here to look after me," she chastised, feigning hurt even as she burrowed further into his chest. Her breath was warm on his neck, slow and measured. It stirred in him a thousand sensations: memories of unfurling sleepily against her, visions of cradling a child between them during a storm, notions of peace and contentment and overwhelming protectiveness. Such a simple little action to do so much to him. He marvelled at her very existence and in the same breath cursed another's.

"I have to attend Mira's funeral," he said grimly, running fingers up the back of her neck idly.

Sarah's head shot up to stare at him angrily. "What? After everything she did to us? Why?"

"Lina has to go," he explained. "She asked me to be there for her."

"Oh." She pursed her lips, thumb rubbing a circle in the hollow of his throat. "Well, can I be there too? For you?"

It repulsed him, the idea of Sarah standing there pretending to mourn the woman who'd tried to kill her. "I don't think that's wise. There's been talk of you throughout the Domain for months, and not much of it positive. Besides, I'll have my sister. It'll be over before we know it. Then I can get back to avidly hating the late Queen with every fibre of my cosmic being."

He'd intended to make her smile but it didn't work, apparently just reminding her of other matters that needed thought. "When does Lina take the throne?" she asked. "Can I go to that ceremony? I'd like to be there. It's going to be a big deal for her."

"In any other case you'd be on the list of formally invited, given your status as ruler."

"But in this case I'm human, right?"

"We'll just have to wait and see. I expect there's to be some sort of announcement about the new person on the Labyrinth Throne."

"But you're human too, so what does that mean? Is your name scratched off the list as well?"

"Well, I'm mortal, not human. But I'm also the Royal Prince, so I'm granted certain rights."

"Speaking of mortality…" she extricated herself from him and sat up. "Have you thought of anyone we can talk to about that yet?"

It was difficult to work his way out from beneath her legs, so Jareth took a moment to answer. "We only discussed that a few hours ago, love. Give a man a little more time."

"But don't you have, I don't know, doctors or healers or something? People who know about this kind of stuff?"

"They wouldn't know anything about transference. It's too far back in our knowledge. We need a historian."

"Okay. So where do we find one?"

"We have a few choices. Let me do some research and get back to you." Stretching, Jareth stifled a yawn and laid a hand on Sarah's knee. "What would you like to do now?"

"Mmm," she nodded, clearly still preoccupied by the need for information. "Would Lina know anyone? Maybe I could talk to her."

Jareth rolled his eyes. "Persistent little creature, aren't you?"

"Don't you want to know if you can be fixed?"

"I'm not broken, love. Anyway, I thought this was about clearing up your future as the ageless woman of Above?"

She shrugged and got to her feet, a little too quick to dismiss the matter. "I want to talk to Diego. The poor kid's probably terrified…"

If she was quick to change subject, he didn't bring it up. The truth was, he didn't particularly want to find out his future. Much as he denied it, a life without his magic was less than desirable. I'm not broken, love. But every minute he spent back in the Underground made him itch with loss, like it had been cut out of him without warning. Sarah and Lina's presence made it easier to push aside but not to completely forget. He let her lead the way out, noting the anxious tap of her free hand against her thigh and the pinch to her face. You're a selfish ghoul, he thought to himself. There was no way their little conversation had completely soothed Sarah's ache after the Labyrinth loss. She was feigning flippancy just as much as he. If he had to face his mortality so that she could gain a little comfort, then so be it.

Besides, there were far worse truths for her to face in the very immediate future.

The story book had gotten it wrong.

People lost to the Goblin Queen didn't just live in the castle and evolve into creatures over hundreds of years. Their punishment was instantaneous and without mercy. The thing that gawked at Sarah with beady little eyes wasn't Diego anymore. It paced back and forth along the cell door, screeching to be let out in a voice far removed from anything human. Sarah watched in horrified silence, stomach turning, as it clicked its sharp nails against the bars and whined, flashing flat, chipped teeth.

"Please Majesty lets me out?" it repeated incessantly.

Jareth looked at it with a mix of pity and disgust, standing back a way, arms folded.

Sarah glared at him. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked in a low, carefully calm voice. She refused to fly off the handle. Queens didn't do that sort of thing, and it wouldn't achieve much anyway.

"You've been through enough," he told her gently, gaze finally leaving the goblin. "I wanted to spare you the truth for as long as possible."

"What is it with Fae men and thinking they need to censor me?" she groaned, frustration fogging her thoughts. "I needed to know this. You shouldn't have kept this from me. Jesus, this is like Brynn all over again."

"What did Brynn lie about?" he asked quickly, frowning.

"It doesn't matter, I told him what was what." She gestured at the goblin now gnawing mindlessly on the bars, drooling idiotically. "Don't try to wriggle out of this. Dammit Jareth, this was a boy a few hours ago! A little kid! And now he's the runt of the monster litter! Did you just expect me to never find out?" So much for keeping calm.

"Of course not," he snapped. "I thought you knew! But when it became apparent that you didn't, I couldn't bring myself to tell you. Forgive me for not wanting to add to your pile of moral dilemmas!"

"Well if you'd told me I could have –"

"Could have what, Sarah? Could have what?" Jareth's voice was quiet and demanding, his expression grim. "There's nothing you could have done differently. Trust me, I know. I spent thirty years trying to reverse the transformations, to save those people. But the spell goes back farther than even I can comprehend. It can't be undone."

She was an idiot. Still an idiot, after all this time. If there'd been a way to fix it, of course Jareth would have done it. He'd had over a century to deal with the problem. What could she have hoped to achieve in a few days, without any more magic than the remnants of his abilities? He was glaring at the floor, arms folded defensively. As usual when it came to his past, she felt drawn toward him by sympathy. But this time she refused to yield. He still should have told her. "You're right," she muttered, touching the crook of his elbow. He didn't move. "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting how long you had to do this for." He dragged his gaze up to hers, glare softening. "But you can't keep this sort of thing from me, okay? I told Brynn the same thing: you don't get to make those decisions for me." Jareth's expression said he very much wanted to ask what the man had done, but was holding back for her sake. She had to hand it to him, he was good at knowing when not to push her. "He didn't tell me when you got back with Lina because he thought it would distract me from the run with Luka," she explained quickly. "But it's over and done with and if you pick a fight about it I'm going to make you kiss my shoes again."

The smile they shared was not long lived. Soon enough Sarah was forced to acknowledge that her job was crueller than she could have imagined. Releasing the goblin, they watched it scurry off grumbling something about ale and fodder.

"He's been Erased from the Above," Jareth murmured before she could ask. "Nobody to be upset by this. Even he doesn't remember."

"I will," Sarah replied, a promise to herself and to the boy, the first arrival of what would be many in the years to come.

They spent the morning before the funeral on the beach. Jareth was sick of grim and grey. Lina wanted to spend her precious little spare time with the two of them and Sarah wanted something to remind her of home. The Summer Room had seemed to fit their needs quite well. She was happily sprawled out on a towel, hand thrown over her face to block the sun. Lina and Jareth were murmuring together not far off, towels overlapping. She let them talk uninterrupted. No doubt they were both brimming with emotional baggage over their plans for the day, and it didn't seem like something she could help with. Instead she rolled onto her stomach and busied herself with making tiny sand cities. It was soothing to indulge in the innocent, familiar motions, an escape after the chaos of yesterday. The sand was gritty underneath her fingernails. She scraped a few piles together and gathered sticks and stones within arm's reach. Toby loved building sand castles, big gaudy affairs with moats and bridges. Alice loved kicking everything down. But Sarah had always enjoyed more intricate layouts. Running a finger through the sand, she made streets. The sticks became fences. Water poured from her glass made the piles damp enough to form vague house shapes.

Every so often she quelled the urge to pull Lina aside and interrogate her. She still hadn't had time to ask anyone about her visions and what they meant. Brynn was busy in the Palace, apparently working on the Council's acceptance of Sarah. The boys were still recovering from their hangovers and didn't seem a likely source of information anyway. Wick was preparing Keel's funeral, an affair she really wanted to attend but was uncertain about asking. She still felt responsible for the death of his cousin, no matter what they told her. And she didn't want to involve Jareth in this if she could help it. The visions were of his future, after all, some of which worried her no small amount. Surely they weren't all accurate, if they conflicted with one another? But the most recurrent pieces of information seemed too logical to deny: that she and Jareth would be together for a long time, and that Lina would sacrifice something for her brother. The former made her feel aglow with happiness, the latter plucked at her nerves like a cellist in some sick symphony. There were so many things she wanted information on. Her immortality, Jareth's magic, the strength of her visions, how she might stop them. It was an exhausting list. She decided to concentrate on digging a well for the sand city.

Jareth was watching her. She could always tell, even without looking, but their hushed voices indicated a private conversation. Sarah didn't mind. Siblings had their own secret language and since yesterday Jareth had kept watch over her regardless of what he was doing. He was just as likely to be discussing life in the Dust Bowl as he was to be talking about her, still with a careful eye. It was sweet that he worried, but really she thought he should be concentrating more on his sister for the time being. They were about to send off the memory of their terrible mother. Glancing up quickly she caught his eye and smiled, ready to mouth that he should stop staring, when Lina's words drifted over.

"…there's only one person who's worthy of the title historian, Jareth. You know that."

Historian? In a flash she was up and heading over just as Jareth shook his head.

"You need to take her to Malibar," Lina insisted.

"Where's that?" Sarah asked, settling down beside Lina without preamble. The woman didn't blink at the intrusion.

"Not where," she shook her head patiently. "Who. Jareth's old teacher."

Sarah eyed him incredulously. "You know a historian? Why did you ask for more time to find someone?"

"Because my brother here is worried about getting in trouble with his teacher," Lina replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if the matter was beneath serious contemplation. "He still thinks Malibar's upset with him, even though it was over a century ago."

"And how does that time measure to a man of his age?" Jareth replied petulantly, sitting up. "That's yesterday to him. Do you think he'll be at all cooperative? He was never easy to handle, even at the best of times."

"Jareth, she needs to see him. You know she does. Stop being a child."

"I'm not –" he clenched his jaw, thought better of arguing, and sighed. "I don't know where he is anymore."

"I'm sure it won't be difficult to find out."

Sarah watched this exchange with a flutter of amusement. Jareth almost seemed to be pouting. She loved that someone other than herself could dig at him in such a way. He'd had far too long to be the pompous feared King, distanced from the nuances of life with good people. "Why is Malibar upset with you?"

"Because he values knowledge above everything else," Jareth replied grumpily. "And he was disgusted when I gave up studying to take Lina's place on the Throne."

"So he's just another cold-blooded Fae with no emotional capacity?" Sarah repeated Lina's earlier dismissive gesture. "I think I can handle his type. Give him a few hours with me and he'll see clearly."

Jareth smirked but shook his head nonetheless. "He's one of the oldest living Fae in existence, Sarah. Possible the oldest – I'd wager even he's not sure that he's not. Someone like that is a little trickier to butter up."

"But offered a puzzle like you, I'm certain he'll take interest enough to answer your questions," Lina reassured her. "He might even have heard of another case of transference between species."

"Lina," Jareth said warningly.

She threw her hands up innocently. "What? It's entirely possible." Her eyes lit up. "In fact, I'd love to come with you. I know he hated me but it would be fascinating to see what he makes of you." Her gaze fell on Sarah as she said this, expression bright and eager.

"You're getting ahead of yourself," Jareth grumbled. "He mightn't even let us visit."

Sarah didn't want Lina to come. She wanted to ask this Malibar about the visions without giving too much away to anyone. The less Lina found out about what she might sacrifice the better. It might make it easier for Sarah to stop her. She was sick of martyrdom among the people she cared about. "I like your enthusiasm but I'm not a sideshow," she said to the woman respectfully. "This is my life we're talking about, not some part of me that needs to be dissected for fun."

"She's right," Jareth said before Lina could apologise. "Perhaps we stop treating this with such lightness, hmm?"

"And you," Sarah poked him in the arm, "Get over your role model issues and call this guy up. I'm sure he'd be happy to have his old student back. You've definitely got a lot to catch up on."

Lina's laugh was rusty, as if she were out of practice, but genuine. "Oh, I really like you," she announced emphatically. "Very well Sarah, I'll stay behind. But I expect the full story when you come back."

"Yes ma'am." Sarah loved the woman's smile. It had a richness similar to her girlfriend's, sweet and inclusive and sisterly all at once. Please don't do anything stupid, she begged silently, remembering her visions. He needs you.

"I'll find out where he is tonight," Jareth went on, "And we'll try to see him tomorrow. Is that acceptable to you, your Majesty?"

He wasn't referring to the Princess. Grinning despite her tumultuous nerves, Sarah winked at Lina before getting to her feet. "Good. Now that's settled, I'll leave you two alone. Sorry to interrupt."

"No need to stray too far," Jareth said as he repositioned himself on the towel.

"Course not," she replied affectionately as the siblings huddled together again. She gestured at her beach creation behind her. "My city needs me though. I've got urgent duties to attend to."

Though they smiled at her in unison, Sarah could see the strain. Big things were happening for them soon, for all of them soon enough. She just hoped they'd all be okay by the end of it.