Jareth, alone, was bounding swiftly across the dark labyrinth earth. He was now adorned as he properly should be, as the king of dreams. From head to toe he was shining white, his robes peppered with bright golden feathers and streaked with strips of gold and silver. His pants were violet and his boots were black, but blazing stars clung to him, and crystals hovered close to his body, so he was never truly dark anywhere. Tied into his hair, which was long and shimmering with wild light, were colorful rocks, bright green branches with their wick on display and even a few strong limbed butterflies that made nest there. Free of glamour made him feel just as free from the niceties that were so traditionally enforced. Kindness was a human infection, and he had been kind to his elder brother long enough. He followed Jarah's track, an invisible trail of magical discharge left in the wake of transporting a human. It left a heavy smell for the goblin king to follow. It led, just as he feared to the mouth of the cave in which Jarah resided.

It had a gaping maw for a door, bedecked with hanging moss and thick, dirty piles of cobweb. Jareth entered with no pause, lighting the darkness with the only light that could brighten nightmare: the glow of the dream king. Inside the walls were damp and grey, and the path he walked was slick. He did not know Jarah's home well, but knew by the trail that he was drawing close. He took a particular step, not far into his journey, which made the crack of his step sound hollow. He stomped hard on the ground and could feel it jostle. Stepping back he searched the ground in the haze of his glow and found the knob. When he opened the door he found himself observing, from above, a great and terrible ballroom.

The chamber was lit with flaming chandeliers, where tiny figures, not quite goblin and not quite human, hung and sat upon while they swung and twirled. They were dressed in gowns and suits of black and violet, their hair, if they had any, lay in crumbled twists and braids on the tops of their heads. On the floor below the crowd of dancers spun in slow circles. Like their heavenward counterparts they were in violet and black, adorned with heavy amethysts, black gloves and pale as snow masks. Their eyes could not be distinguished for the shadow of the mask concealed them. All the women were lovely; their grace was unmatchable even by their partners. And the men were tall and handsome, proudly leading their smaller partners in perfect circles. The music was like a gentle sigh, encasing the dancers in an impulsive embrace which caused their urge to move. Parallel to the dark walls their ran two long tables, where sweet smelling food was laid out on silverware so beautiful it seemed a sin to use them.

Sarah could feel this urge within herself; the music was there touching her heart and spreading with her pulse through her body. It warmed her and beckoned movement into her body with hot crescendos. She found herself feeling muddled; her head was aching dully with every deep rumble of the drums. This pestering pain was a terrible distraction from the sensual world around her, there on that moving dance floor. As Jarah led her slowly closer to the center of the dark chamber the elegant figures surrounding her blurred, their gowns wrinkled in her peripheral vision and their masks slipped away revealing horrendously marred faces. But just as soon as Sarah could see their faces the masks replaced themselves over the mournful expressions once again, and Sarah was finding it impossible to recall the horrors she glimpsed when they vanished again.

"Sarah."

She returned her attention to her partner. Dressed as he was in a grand coat dotted with violet stones, his untamable hair combed back and tied with a purple ribbon, the Nightmare Man looked handsome. When she stood this close to him she could see that his wickedly dark eyes, white pupils glinting, may once have been a kind of warmer color. Were it not for the hints supplied by his accessories she may never have guessed correctly.

"You are observing me quite intensely." He commented after a pause. "What interests you?"

"Were your eyes once purple?" As she spoke she felt something run up her sine and she jumped in surprise.

Behind her a masked woman was pulled away, the hollow of her eyes glinting with emptiness, her narrow finger quivering.

"Once," Jarah said gently. He drew Sarah in closer to him and turned away from a second dancer who was reaching to touch her. She accepted his pull and found herself nuzzled into the crevice of his neck, her nose making friends with his earrings. They were twin shards of amethysts, hanging from two holes in his left earlobe.

A warm and sweet smell radiated from off of his neck and clouded Sarah wonderfully in a shroud of sleepy comfort. The swirling skirts brushing against hers faded out of her consciousness; the hard looks that she could feel on her mask-less face were losing their power to make them blush while she was no longer able to feel them. All she could feel was Jarah's bare hand guiding her own, while his spare was clasped against the small of her back. She could feel the weight of her gown growing heavier on her body, gently though. Everything was gentle in this odd world.

When Jarah tightened his hold on her body, it was with gentle ferocity. When a masked man abandoned his partner and hovered at her side, the hand he laid on her shoulder was gentle. His partner followed and with soft hands took away Sarah's hand from Jarah's back to hold it tenderly. Person by person, they shuffled closer and drew near her, stretching their arms out to touch her. Hands were all across her back. Soon Sarah and Jarah were brought to a standstill as more and more subjects of the Nightmare King drew closer. A thousand hands touched Sarah, with the kindest fingers. It was as though she was being praised or embraced by this masked crowd. She leaned into their touches, luxuriating in the feeling of praise and want, but was drawn back to Jarah, who smiled warmly.

"They are pleased with you." He said.

"Who are they all?"

"They are my subjects of course. The members of my court." His mouth twisted into a kind of peculiar smirk. It was reminiscent of Jareth's, but it was sleepier, less snobbish. She quite liked that strange expression. Quite a lot.

Enough for her to rotate onto her toes to be closer to his face. The proximity altered, Jarah's eyes focused on hers and she was sure now that violet iris was mixed in among the ribbons of black. She freed her hand from a courtier who had been clutching it fiercely. Around her the crowd still surged and ached to touch her, their pleas now low, audible moans, but she no long had an inkling to care.

She touched his face. His skin was warm and smooth. Had she really been missing how handsome he was? His bones were like Jareth's but meaner, stronger, so that his face was not as androgynous. The thin line of his mouth was stern, even wicked and pale white with only the hint of hushed rose.

Someone clutched her shoulder and drew her away. The music began to swell, changing into a faster and more difficult dance. Her new partner was dressed less richly than Jarah, and she found her elf aching for the nightmare man. She caught sight of him as she spun and turned, dancing with another woman in a pale violet gown. He was staring, but only at Sarah.

The dance required the constant change of partners, and though Sarah was guessing steps she was able to keep up with the transitions well. During the imprisonment of Jareth's illusion, the false Karen had her take a few dance lessons. She realized now how this was another manipulation of Jareth's, one which followed suit with his intentions of training her for his queen-slave. This was a manipulation she was a little proud of. Passed from person to person she watched and waited for when she would be returned to Jarah's arms. She paid little attention to her partners until a blonde man with wild hair tamed by a black ribbon caught her hand. Under that hollow of his mask she thought she could spy the brightness of blue eyes for a moment, below the glaze of shadow. But the man had had his turn with her and left her to a new partner before she could truly look. And then, Jarah was back. She could not quell the joy she felt when he reappeared, nor stop herself from grasping him fiercely.

"Hello again, little dreamer."

She felt like she might swoon. Her lungs filled with his scent and her eyes teared in delight.

Jarah, to her disappointment, released her hand and his fingers twirled in a graceful circle. A black orb appeared in his hand but it swiftly changed, deepening in pigment and morphing until it was a ruddy violet.

The room around them stilled and the music slowed until only three low bells were chiming softly.

Jarah let go of Sarah so the two of them stood very close, facing each other on a dance floor that was starting to empty. His court was vanishing silently into a surrounding darkness.

"Sarah," He spoke very low and quiet. "You are a beautiful soul. I would want nothing more than for you to become a part of my world… be mine as I will be yours. Become a goddess."

He extended his hand which held the fruit to her. His other hand reached to carve, with his claw like nail, the round fruit in two. Red juices oozed when he tore it in half. Red tipped seeds sprang free, some to litter the ground at Sarah's feet.

"I invite you Sarah, into my world to be my equal." He moved closer to her. "I offer you a life with me. I offer an alternative eternity."

He plucked a seed from one of the halves he had and brought it to his mouth. It left a stain, like a smear of blood, on his lip.

He leaned down towards her, dark eyes intense and Sarah blushed.

The kiss tasted of pomegranate juice.

But the next second Jarah was screaming and curled in pain, clutching the bleeding earlobe from which Sarah had torn out his amethyst earrings.

"No one," She whispered. "Will ever manipulate me again." She straightened and her eyes grew hard with a wonderful stare at the nightmare man. She dropped the bloody earrings to the floor at his side.

From where he was observing Jareth smiled in relief and said. "There's my girl."

"No." Sarah turned swiftly and met his eyes from where he was poised in the ceiling above her.

With her long hair pulled back from her face Jareth could see how young she was, how young and how sad. But her melancholy was elegant, because she wore it with the bravery of a queen; she was powerful there, only a seventeen year old wisp. She did not slouch or moan, she was as tall as her body could be, and with no complaint.

He reached his hand down to her, intending to lift her up through the air to him.

Just as she began to reach in turn, the Nightmare had recovered.

Dropping his full glamor, his body began to swell until he was as large as the chamber itself. He was no longer man, but entirely beast. He swiped Sarah with one of his massive claws and she crashed into the floor, limp as a doll.

As the shock froze Sarah's senses she spotted something silver and bright nearby on one of the long tables where the food was laid out.

And she made a choice.

Okay readers! Only one chapter left! Are you prepared? Are you? I'm not!

I hope you enjoyed the read!