Time for Sarah to put on her mystery solving pants and blow your minds...
Mystery pants and all Scooby Doo paraphenalia in this chapter provided and approved by nothingnothingtralala.
Jareth.
The name was so heavy in her head, so urgent on her tongue that she had to forcibly swallow it back.
She had never woken up crying before, and she lay back on the soft pillow which was supporting her, feeling wretched. Curling into a ball, she tried not to hurt. All she could see was his face, the betrayal of his forced submission, pain. His name was like ashes in her mouth.
That ring, that terrible ring… she looked down at her own, which glinted harmlessly back at her from her finger. Well, she realised, that would explain his gloves.
Slowly she counted to ten, backwards and forwards, trying to calm herself. All of that was the past, it had already happened, it wasn't her fault.
"I am not her," she reassured herself, "I'm Sarah, not Serra." It felt like a lie because she had been there, because it had felt like her mouth opening to speak the words. "I'm not her," she repeated, rocking back and forth.
She had looked like her though; the similarities were quite striking. Suddenly, she sat up on the bed, enraged, and hurled the pillow across the room.
"Idiot!" she yelled. "Stupid, stupid idiot Goblin King! Is every girl with long dark hair your destiny now? Why didn't you pay more attention? You got it wrong; you got it all wrong, you stupid, overbearing fool."
Anger helped salve the hurts a little, burning them away. Of course it wasn't his fault; not really, it had simply been a mistake. But she had watched what that mistake had wrought on him and it had made her insides ache. "You stupid idiot," she whispered, "it was meant to be me."
As the resentment began to fade she looked around curiously. This was certainly not where she had been upon entering the dream.
She was in a grand bedroom. The bed she lay in was enormous, draped with a large lace canopy which could be drawn to encircle it. The sheets were white silk and had bunched up around her legs while she had lain here in her restless dream. The warmth of the room was due to the large fire burning in a grate across from her in the chamber; lavish tapestries hung from the walls and the firelight gave the room a cheerful feel.
As she swung herself from the bed she flinched as her bare feet touched the cold stone floor. For the first time she noticed the nightgown. She glared at it, but it didn't turn back into the shredded green dress she had been wearing; it seemed someone had changed her. Not the Goblin King, she realised with relief, he couldn't touch her: so how had she gotten here and who had handled her oh so familiarly? There was no one else in the room.
Sarah shuffled over to the dressing table on the far side of the room, closer to the fire, and one look in the mirror told her that she had been more than just dressed.
Bathed? Someone bathed me?
She flushed with humiliation. It was nice to be clean and to have her hair brushed so that she no longer looked like a wild woman, but seriously, how embarrassing.
The dressing table had several items laid out on it, and Sarah picked up the first one, pausing to run her eyes over the rest. In her fingers she held a peach pit. She grimaced at the unpleasant reminder, but couldn't understand its purpose until she had looked all of the items over in turn.
Her water bottle, her copy of The Labyrinth, and the childish picture she had drawn of Jareth. Her fingers twitched, tempted to throw it into the fire; instead she placed the peach pit back where it belonged. The shoes that she had abandoned were here, as were her gloves, the gloves he had given her – she had wondered where those had gotten to – they were all lined up, waiting for her. He had gathered all these things and placed them in her room, even though she might never escape the dream and wake again to see them. She had escaped though, had not be drawn into endless dreaming; just as she had escaped the first dream he had sent her.
She crouched on the ground, burying her face in her hands. "Oh Goblin King, you stupid, stupid, idiot."
Had he had left her in this room to slumber eternally? He had practically built a shrine to her. What was she, sleeping beauty? How long had she slept? He had laughed at mortal sentiment, but what tender affection had made him lay out these useless things that she had owned like precious treasures?
She laughed a little at the very thought of it, leaning back on her hands in front of the fire. "Oh Goblin King," she muttered, fondly.
Frowning, she sat back up again, looking back at the items on the dresser.
No necklace.
She touched the hollow of her throat where it had always fallen; if everything else was here, why not that? Had he lost it? Was it not there because it had been part of a wish? No, he had said in her dream that traded items became a part of the Labyrinth, so why was it not here? She took a sharp breath, thinking back.
The Goblin King, the original Goblin King, back when she had first run the Labyrinth had worn a necklace.
Sentiment.
That downward pointed runic arrow: she had seen it around his neck on her first visit. The exact same necklace that Serra had worn and traded with him for a room of gold. Why had he kept it? As a keepsake for an unpleasant memory, a bitter reminder? It didn't matter, he had made it his own and he had worn it. But where was it now? She hadn't seen it on him recently; she hadn't seen it since she had traded her own necklace.
The pattern repeats.
Since her return to the Labyrinth he had worn only high collared shirts, it was so unlike his flamboyant self. Why would he suddenly start dressing so conservatively? What did he have to hide that he didn't want her to see? Sarah swallowed noisily. That familiar pendant… the chain was short, so much shorter than Serra's necklace had ever been. If he were to wear it… that would be just the thing to keep it secret.
Sarah's heart hammered in her chest. Could this be true? No, he had told her that her father would die after finding it in a pawn shop. How could that happen if the Goblin King had it?
What exactly was it that he had said to her about that though? That he had foreseen it… but that was not the same as saying it would happen, was it? The future could be changed; they had proven that by changing the futures of the scratch card buyers and the lottery winner. All that was needed for her father's future to change was for him to never find her locket in that pawn shop, and now, if it was around the Goblin King's neck, he never would.
Sarah licked her lips, warming to the idea. If she was right he hadn't told her a lie, he just hadn't told her the truth. If he could twist her perception so well on one thing what else could he use to fool her?
What about the children?
She had seen his look of horror and revulsion at the thought of taking Serra's son, and hadn't he said something similar for Toby?
You wished, I took. There was no wanting.
He had taken him though, but why? Because she had reminded him of Serra? For some reason he had chosen to grant her wish.
Chosen to…
Sarah latched onto that thought. He had said himself that he could pick and choose between the wishes he granted. So why would someone who reviled the idea of taking a child from its parent ever do so? The answer was simple… they wouldn't.
What was it he had said to her exactly?
He said the words, Sarah.
She will fold to the pressure soon and say the words; I have foreseen it.
They had said the words, but he had never told her that he had granted their wishes or taken their children. Sarah rocked back on her heels with shock. There was something else too, something he had said to her after she had encountered Cindy as a fuath in the mirror.
Won't you take me to the children in the Labyrinth?
I can't.
Not I won't, but I can't. The Goblin King couldn't lie. So what could possibly stop the all-powerful Goblin King from whisking her away to the children he had hidden in his Labyrinth? He himself had told her there was no place in the Labyrinth that he could not follow her, so why would he say that he couldn't do it? There was only one reason remaining, something that she had never even considered: because the children were not in the Labyrinth… he had never even taken them.
This was impossible. Why had he let her think that he had done these terrible things? Was it a part of some game? Or was it simply revenge? If he had truly seen Serra through her then perhaps he hadn't been able to separate the two… or perhaps he had merely let her draw her own conclusions and she had rushed to make him the villain again. No matter what his reasoning was, the Goblin King was no horror: what wrongs had he committed that she had not asked of him?
There were still wrongs to be righted here, of course, her wishes had still hurt two families and that still needed to be rectified, but she hadn't left them as desolated as she had previously thought. She took a choking half sob. He hadn't lied to her, but he had let her make a monster of him, so ready to play that expected role between them. He was so prepared for what he thought was the inevitable repeat of past events that he hadn't even given her a chance to prove herself. She had never given him the benefit of the doubt either, judging him on memories of her childhood experience, believing the worst as soon as he announced it.
It wasn't too late to change that though.
Sarah looked out of the chamber window to where fat, fluffy clouds were coloured in sunset hues. It was sundown, but there was no sign of the Goblin King. How long had she been sleeping then? By how much had she missed their deadline? It no longer mattered. There were no children requiring her rescue, and she didn't need him to come to her.
She touched the ring on her finger, feeling it warm under the heat of her hand. She pretended not to pay any notice to the link it held and felt it coalesce and solidify under her inattention, becoming clearer as she ignored it. Of course, she thought, she should have expected as much from the Labyrinth, resistant to being fettered, so like the enigmatic master it was tied to.
The location of the Goblin King flared in her mind, and she smiled; he was close. She could have set a leisurely pace, but she felt restless to see him, to be near him, and so she ran. Her bare feet pounded on the stone floors of the castle as she flew down corridors, barely taking notice of rooms and passages she'd not yet had the opportunity to explore. Not yet.
He was standing outside on an open parapet. The breeze outside was just a little colder than she liked, and it sailed straight through her nightdress as if there were no barrier between itself and her skin. The fabric stirred in its wake and her arms and legs were dotted with gooseflesh. She stopped herself, breathing heavily, and closed the gap between them to where he stood looking off into the distance away from her. It took him a long time to acknowledge her presence. He must have been aware it was not imagined though, if he too could feel the ring's link.
"How did you get here?" he asked coldly, choosing not to face her.
Sarah was still trying to level out her breathing; she bent forward with her hands on her knees, looking at the Goblin King's back. "On foot," she puffed.
He made an exasperated sound. "I mean how did you leave the dream?"
"I woke up, obviously," she said.
"Oh, obviously," he drawled, turning for the first time to give her a sharp look. "People don't wake up from these dreams, Sarah!" he spat. "Although somehow I'm hardly surprised to see you here."
"They wake up when the dream is fulfilled," she replied.
"When one dream is fulfilled then there is always another dream, a new dream."
"Yes," she agreed, "but not all dreams can fit inside a glass bauble."
Like real love, she thought. That's something magic has no control over; that's something I can only find outside of the dream.
He made a rude sound in his throat. "So you thought to arrive in the final hour again to defeat the Goblin King," he declared: "always such a hero."
Sarah blinked at him, confused. "The final hour?"
"Best hurry precious, it will be dark soon," he smiled coolly.
She looked up into the orange of the fiery sky and then turned back to him, finally comprehending his words.
"It's the third day today?" she asked.
He narrowed his eyes; a look of irritation crossed his face. "You didn't know," he murmured.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I thought I must have been in the dream for much, much longer."
He sighed, obviously realising that he'd now given her an advantage with this information. If he had called her bluff then time would have run out and she would have been unaware. Not that it mattered anymore; this was no longer about winning or losing.
"How did you find your way here from that room, how did you find me?" he asked tiredly.
Sarah simply held up her hand, letting the fading light spark against the ruby of the ring.
"Of course," he muttered, pulling a tight, caustic smile, "there had to be a ring." He clenched his own gloved hands at the sight of it and Sarah felt her lip curl into a sneer.
He still wears them…
"Tell me then, Sarah," he challenged, stifling a yawn. "You've had little luck so far. I wonder, have you managed to find my name?"
She looked up at him: his figure was glowing softly from the sunset behind him. Dressed in black from head to foot, those familiar tight pants tucked into knee high leather boots, a simple, high collared shirt contrasting against the brightness of his hair. He was like a shadow trying to hide in the sunlight, glorious. He was hers.
But he was still an idiot.
"Your name… is it idiot?" she asked.
"What?"
"Hmmm – buffoon, fool, chump, twit?"
He growled, clearly unimpressed. Sarah walked towards him, stopping to look up into his face.
"Is it stupid?"
"What are you playing at?" he snarled.
"Why, I'm playing your game. Aren't you going to let me know if my answers are correct?" she asked innocently. Reaching for his gloved hand she pulled on the thumb of the fabric, "is it moron?"
"Sarah," he warned.
She felt a flood of pleasure at the sound of her name on his lips, her name, not the name which so closely resembled it. She pulled on the cloth of his forefinger and the glove slipped down slightly. "Is it dimwit?" she whispered.
"No," he grated, "they're all wrong."
She smiled, pulling on the leather of his middle finger. "Blockhead?"
"No. This is really very tiresome."
"Could it possibly be imbecile?" she smiled sweetly, pulling on the ring finger of his glove.
"Why don't you just give up?" he drawled.
"Why don't you make me?" she shot back, tugging on the fabric of his little finger hard enough to finally remove the glove. As he frowned, and started to glance down at his now naked hand, she placed hers under his chin, lifting his face back to gaze on her own. "I know," she grinned. "It must be simpleton!" She watched his face harden, a harsh sneer marring his perfection.
"Give up," he advised coldly.
She tried to keep her hand steady as she reached out towards his, her eyes holding him. "It's not in my nature," she murmured. His flesh was cool to the touch and she shivered as she found it. The ring was cooler. She had known she would find it there.
"You should know when you're beaten," he growled. For a second, just a second, his eyes darted down at where their hands were making contact, but she was faster.
To say she slipped it from his finger would be an understatement. The bond was resilient. She had to tear it, twist it, rip it apart to work the band free. It didn't matter that Serra must be long dead by now – this bond was half magic, half him, and it was strong. She could feel the moment the connection surged at her, but her fingers were a vice that would not be prised free. Determined, she tugged it down forcefully and felt the inevitable snap, the slackening and dissolve of the link.
"When I'm beaten I'm sure I will," she murmured cockily, taking his hand again. She could now see the silvered lines of scars on his ring finger, ages old now. How hard had he struggled to be free of it? It seemed irreverent that such a perfect creature should bear any scars at all. She raised his hand to her lips and gently kissed the space left by the rings absence. "There," she whispered, "all better now."
It was the first time she had ever seen the Goblin King look so completely lost. He just kept staring at her, staring through her, completely silent. After a few minutes he pulled his hand from hers to inspect it, his mouth trembling.
"How?" he croaked, his mouth dry.
Sarah held the ring between her fingers and raised it to the light to inspect it. "Your magic doesn't diminish; you said that, you know? First lie I ever heard you tell… although, I suppose it isn't a lie if you don't know any better, is it? And to be fair the magic didn't exactly lessen, it just got… redistributed."
The Goblin King gave her a look of desperate confusion.
"Someone stole a little bit of your magic, Goblin King, just a little bit, just enough. If something is being held in place by something that has already been weakened, well… a tiny bit of luck could probably prise it free, don't you think?" Sarah leaned in, brushing a strand of his silver blonde hair behind his ear, and whispered. "Did I ever tell you that I'm just a little bit lucky?"
The Goblin King took a measured breath, his next question half choked. "Why?"
Sarah smiled, tightening her grip on the ring. "Why?" she asked, "why?" Angrily, she turned and, with all of her strength, pitched the ring as far as she was able. She watched it sail through the air, little more than a twinkle in the slowly darkening sky. Her jaw clicked from the pressure of gritting her teeth together too tightly and she breathed heavily, shaking with rage. "Because it pissed me off, Goblin King!" she yelled. "Knowing that you were still wearing it really pissed me off!"
"Sarah," he called, making her breath catch in her throat. She looked up to see the intense expression in his eyes, seeking clarity. "How did you know about it?"
She pulled a tight smile, watching him. "How do you think?"
He opened his mouth but then closed it again, a look of understanding crossing his face. "So it was a bad dream them?" he asked dully.
She sighed. "It served its purpose."
"Yes," he smiled darkly, "I'm sure it did." An awkward silence stretched out between them, and she wondered how to continue. He seemed to have closed himself off.
"So you know then?" he asked finally.
She glanced up at him: "Yes," she murmured. She knew everything that had happened.
"Then why don't you say it?"
Sarah frowned, confused. Say what? She gave the Goblin King an uncomprehending look.
"Since you know what to say why don't you end our little game? I know how much pleasure you take from defeating me," he hissed, a self-depreciating smile twisting his lips.
His name.
Dear lord, he thought she meant to say his name. He thought she'd gone through that nightmare just to discover it, just to win. The thought almost made her giddy, and she felt a little mad; he really, truly, was an idiot.
"I know exactly what to say," she agreed.
She watched his mouth harden, his eyes narrow. There was a flicker of grief and resignation in his gaze and it made her heart ache. "Hurry up then," he sniped, "I'm tired of playing with you, Sarah."
Liar.
But it wasn't a lie, he couldn't lie. He was tired; exhausted even, heartbroken and disappointed at every turn. He had already accepted the loss, she already had his submission, but she felt no triumph at his expense at all, only a throbbing pain in her chest.
"I know exactly what to say," she whispered. She wanted to reach out and embrace him, but if he were to avoid her touch now she would lose her resolution. "Goblin King," she choked, and watched the small crease between his eyebrows as she spoke only his title. "You have power over me."
The silence that followed was so complete that Sarah felt lost in it, like it was a part of the Labyrinth and she might never find her way out. But the Labyrinth and Jareth were one, so if she could not find the path underfoot then she might lose him too, and she feared that more than she could bear. Somewhere, she could hear him take a shuddering breath.
She closed her eyes. "I give you power over me, freely," she repeated, her voice fraught with emotion. She thought she might be crying, but she couldn't be sure. She wouldn't lose him, he needed to understand.
"You…" his voice cracked. He stared at her, so completely still she might have thought he'd joined Hoggle if she had not been able to see the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
She took a step towards him, shakily. "Goblin King," she said quietly. "She looked a lot like me, but she isn't me... she isn't me."
We are not the same.
Hesitantly, he reached out a trembling hand until his bare fingers just barely brushed against her hair. As they made contact he hissed, withdrawing them and closing his eyes. His breathing was short and shallow; he held his fingers against his chest as if they had been burned.
"You…" he started again, but his voice faltered, overcome. Swallowing heavily, his eyes still closed, he turned away from her.
Then I'll chase after you…
Quietly, she came up behind him, placing a hand softly on his shoulder. "Goblin King," she murmured into his hair. She could feel his breathing quicken and her heart beat fast as if to match it. She knew her hand was shaking, but she didn't want to remove it, she was touching him, he was letting her touch him. For the first time in forever they were standing on equal ground. Taking a deep breath he turned to look at her, his mask gone; his expression guileless, open and so very unsure. His eyes searched hers for answers, but she had no idea what he found there.
He was uncertain as he ran unsteady fingers through her hair, pushing it back over her shoulders. Gently he traced the lines of her face with them, stroked her eyelashes and hovered over her lips. She took his other hand, removing the glove and letting it drop to the floor carelessly, raising it to her mouth to kiss his fingertips. She revelled in his intake of breath as she laced their fingers together, lost in the fathomless depth of his eyes.
The first kiss was tentative and careful. An awkward brushing of the lips which made her heart flutter. Slowly they grew in confidence as neither of them pulled away, deeper, more frantic and intense. When his lips became punishing she thrilled at the desperation of them, the need. And oh, she could taste him; he tasted sweet and heady, like a foreign spice on the end of her tongue. He smelt of sunshine and wood smoke and the rain, and she breathed him in eagerly as he whispered her name into her mouth, her heart so full now that she finally had all of him. Could the whole of a person's life be completed with a kiss? Sarah felt as if everything else had melted away; time was an illusion, life was an illusion and all that mattered now was the kiss.
Regretfully, however, she broke it, realising that this wasn't quite true.
They stood close to one another, both breathing heavily. The Goblin King's cheek was pressed against her temple, his hot breath making her hair dance.
It was a while before she could speak again. "Goblin King," she panted, "I have a request."
He made a gentle growling noise into her hair which almost sounded like a purr. "Right now?"
She grinned bemusedly. "Before I forget the other functions a mouth is used for."
"Better hurry then," he said, curling a lock of her hair around his finger. She could hear the trace of amusement in his tone.
"You have something that belongs to me," she told him.
He tensed for a moment, and then relaxed. "Do tell," he smirked, teasing his fingers across her lips.
"A memory."
She gasped, surprised, when he leant down and ran his tongue across her collarbone. "Stop that," she complained. "I'm trying to reclaim some property here."
"It's only manners to taste test the things I plan to eat," he shrugged, not the least bit apologetic. "What memory would that be?"
"Not a terrible one I hope: it was sealed with a kiss, remember?"
"Ah," he grinned, "that does sound vaguely familiar, and rather tempting."
"So can I take it back please?" she asked.
He smiled lazily. "It's yours to reclaim."
Well then, she thought.
It seemed silly that the act to recover her memory was the same as the one she had just stopped to request the very thing, but not at all unpleasant. She leaned into the kiss with a smile, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck. It was a warm tickling feeling, like déjà vu, as fragments of her past fell back into place. Realising her advantage, she took the opportunity to slide one of her hands from his neck and into the high collar of his shirt, grazing along his throat. She felt him shudder from her touch and fought to remember exactly what she was doing there. Eventually her fingers brushed along the familiar chain, just where she knew it would be, and she took hold of it confidently in her hand, yanking down on it hard. She felt the delicate chain break as it jarred against his neck, and both chain and pendant slipped easily into the palm of her hand.
The Goblin King wrenched her away, angrily.
"Sorry," she apologised, holding her hands up submissively, the necklace clutched in her hand. "Just thought that I should take this one back too."
He glanced at the necklace and let out a long suffering sigh. "Determined until the end to be sympathetic of others… you can't fix the world's wrongs, Sarah."
"I can fix my wrongs, though, "she replied.
"Even if it brings you pain?" he asked.
She stroked his face with her free hand. "What pain?" she asked. "My memory?" As she thought of it the last, elusive portions of that recollection slotted back together in her mind. "Oh," she said abruptly, laughing. She smiled at him ruefully. "It seems that little has changed since then."
His were soft as he pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "Oh Sarah," he whispered. "Sarah mine, my lovely, lovely Sarah."
She nuzzled into his shoulder, burying her own hands in the fabric of his shirt and making a sound of contentment.
"I finally get to touch you," he murmured. "My Sarah."
Her heart was so full she thought it might burst, and she snuggled against him, so happy with her entire being that she knew she could never love anyone else quite like this. All of the imagined betrayal, all of the secrets were forgotten, there was just this moment and his voice, calling her name.
She ran her hands across his chest, closing her eyes and leaning in to listen to the sound of his heartbeat. "Oh, Jareth," she whispered.
It only took her a second to realise her mistake.
He froze beneath her in an instant, the arms embracing her tightening as his fingers dug into her flesh.
No.
His chest began to convulse under her, and she realised he was laughing, painfully, without sound. His body shook angrily, and she could feel a cold fury welling up around them. Then, with frightening speed, he pushed her away, and she fell to the ground, unable to hold her own weight so suddenly without his solid support.
"Oh, well done," he croaked, "very, very well done."
The ground under him was iced over, the air between them frigid. Sarah could almost see blackened tendrils uncurling in the landscape surrounding them, darkening the Labyrinth with shadows.
"No!" she yelled, "it was a mistake!"
He towered over her, all the preceding passion drained from his face. His eyes were cold and dull, his cheeks sallow and drawn tightly back into a twisted, self-hating smile. She could see pain and betrayal in that smile, absolute despair.
"A performance that even Linda Williams would have been proud of," he spat.
"No, Jareth no!" she pleaded, shaking her head.
He trembled at the sound of his own name. "No?" he asked. "No what, what more do you want? You've won, Sarah. Well done indeed."
She felt devastated by the vitriol in his voice.
"Or did you have a command for me, now that you've got that power? What a tricky thing you are, letting me think I'd gained ground when all along you've had an ace up your sleeve."
"That's not true," she yelled hoarsely, but the thrashing winds rising between them snatched the words away.
He looked down on her, his face darkened with contempt and a message of absolute malice in his eyes. "Goodbye, Sarah."
She realised then what the gale around them and the fading light represented.
You've won, Sarah.
She hadn't just said his name; she'd answered his question. She had completed the game before the end of the third day.
"No!" she screamed.
The crescendo of air continued to rise around her, whipping her hair in a frenzy of magic and pure power. Jareth, the Labyrinth, they were going to send her back. Those were her winning conditions. She had to be returned to her family, her world, unharmed.
You can't come find me again, even if I make a wish.
Her words.
She was going to lose him, forever. He wouldn't be able to come for her, even if she could make him understand. How could she make her way back into the Labyrinth without him, without her friends?
She looked up at him, squinting through the sharp winds, and saw her own pain echoed on his face, but worse, infinitely worse. He thought she had betrayed him, played with him. His eyes were shut; as if he was giving up already, ready to damn himself to this lonely existence for ever. The darkness continued to coil across the Labyrinth, riding the torrential winds which lashed and bucked like a living thing, slicing between Sarah and the Goblin King, set to divide them forever.
"Jareth!" she screamed.
She could stop this. The answer was all too easy; she had seen it for herself. All she needed to do was command him, to use his name and demand that he make it stop, that he let her stay here with him. She leaned forward, her hands clutching at her chest as she started to sob loudly.
She couldn't do it.
She couldn't take his freedom from him, couldn't force him to obey her, not even in this. Bereft, the screeched into the wind, cursing and wailing until she was sure her heart was shattered into pieces. She could no longer see him; she couldn't even take one last look before she lost him forever.
Goodbye Sarah.
"No!" she railed. "Jareth… Jareth I lov-" but it was too late. As the squall picked her up and pitched her through space all she could hear was screaming, but she had no idea whether it was her voice or that of the Goblin King.
Now... please remember that if you kill me I can't finish the story, yes? Hahahaha nothing like a killer cliffhanger (I regret nothing!)
What a unproductive day at work, but you all get a chapter out of it so that must be a good thing, right? Hopefully I managed to tug some heart strings.
Thanks for all the lovely reviews, they sure are coming in fast now! I suspect we'll hit 200 before this is all over - any one got a suggestion for a new 200 review present? I could let you add something of your choice to the next fanfic perhaps? Since it's going to be pretty crazy (quite literally) you could ask me to put ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING in there and I could make it work. Think about it people - perhaps you should all just inbox me with weird suggestions if you want to see something in there!
Sarah Rose 29: Hmm I hope you're not disappointed that there is no connection per se (at least not one I have included for story purposes), other than the similarity of their features.
Aleta Wolff: Hahaha yes she's a nasty piece of work, but we've got the lovely Sarah back now (finally!)
Bee-cee-kay: OMG, vitriol is such an awesome word, I totally used it in this chapter as a kudos to you. Serra is terrible, but she's also a sad figure in the piece, ahh well... she made her own bed.
:It's all good, hating on the baddies means I'm doing them right ;D
Wudelfin: You can probably just copy and paste that review again for this chapter (laughs evilly)
arynwy: Wow, you just totally get it, you are absolutely right on the mark! I wonder what you made of this one? Since I like to toss so many complications and mechanisms in it's good to see people who are on top of the plot and the emotional complications between the characters!
HAL-1138: Woo hoo, that;s exactly the reaction I hoped for!
Morefindiel: So I posted a day later... soon enough? Hmm eternal Serra burden, now that's a hideous and creative thought! I'd kind of like to see it happen so we could find out how that would end up - all out war between that power triangle would be scary!
Getsunohimesama: Not at all, blow by blow reviews meant I could track how you felt as you read each chapter, which was really exciting! Totally trying to make you hate yer, my job is done! Jareth - talk about unfair grudge holding, and now look what I've gone and done...
Deer-Shifter: This chapter was all WHAM. There's the update for our wished away victims also, not quite what it seems.
Smiles1998: Dude, brownies, I LOVE brownies. Sometimes I buy packet mix and make a batch JUST FOR ME. Sometimes I even make them from scratch... and now I want brownies...
J Luc Pitard: Totes going to do that!
StakeMeSpike04: Now I can't have you dying on me, we're so close to the end now! Hopefully this chapter has given you the strength to go on until the next one... not that I usually update this frequently, but I was a touch excited about writing this one.