Chapter Fourteen: You Starve and Near Exhaust Me

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With a book in hand, her legs curled up beneath her, and the crystal stars twinkling in the dome above, Sarah waited for the Goblin King to rouse from his weak spell. While she read the blue-leather bound book of Underground history—extremely fascinating accounts of a series of wars from two thousand years ago between different clans of Sidhe—her eyes occasionally strayed to the passed out figure a few feet away to check for any sign of improvement.

She got caught up in the wild tales for a while longer before checking again. She startled a little at the change that was so apparent.

Although he was normally extremely fair, the deathly pallor was gone. The dark circles under his eyes had faded, and he seemed to merely be sleeping. His breath came in less shallowly, the gold amulet glinting as his chest rose and fell with normal breathing.

His eyes were open. Sarah blinked and felt at a loss for words.

With only a subtle sluggishness, he stirred and sat up in the large chair to lean against its solid back. He glanced to the side then let his gaze fall back on Sarah.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"More natural," he answered after a brief pause. His voice alone sounded stronger.

"You're looking much better too." She forced a smile away at his indignant glare. "I won't apologise. You deserve it after leaving me scared witless for all this time wondering if you were dying or...or something terrible while I couldn't do a single thing."

Oops. That sounded a little too endearing. Oh well, it is the truth.

His expression looked pleased but still weary. "I did tell you I'd explain, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. If you're well enough. I need to know why."

He ran a finger along his jaw line and looked away with distant eyes. It was a few minutes of silence before he spoke.

"My abilities—what humans call 'magic' but is a curious phrase to us—are not boundless. I cannot do anything or everything imaginable. It comes with a price. We all have different capacities, just as your kind have different capacities with your own abilities, but that still leaves a limit for each of us. My power is vast, but if I push the boundaries it draws strength and life from me just as you might be exhausted from running too long or lifting too much weight."

"So you were exhausted from too much use of your magic—uh, your abilities?"

He nodded.

"And what on earth had you using so much?"

He did not answer.

"If I'd known that all these things you've done for me were taking energy out of you like this, I'd have told you to stop," she said in a firm but gentle tone. "I appreciate all you've done for me, but you can't—"

"Sarah, stop," he said with a raised hand. "This was not from doing you favours, I assure you. That takes a small toll that I barely feel. This was so much more."

"Are you going to tell me what?"

He regarded her quietly and intently. Although she'd had more than one childish moment after returning here, she hoped he saw her as an adult now that could be trusted with important information.

"Sarah, these are things my kind do not tell to mortals and for very good reason. To share our strengths or weaknesses is to expose ourselves and the rest of our kindred to a certain degree which is dangerous. You used powerful words to defeat me last time, so how can I trust you with information just as powerful a second time?"

Sarah drew in a deep breath. He was right. They both had equal footing when it came to reasons not to trust each other.

"This time I don't have any reason to want to defeat you," she said. "I don't want that. And you don't have to tell me everything, just enough to understand. Fiachna knows of it since he's like you, so wouldn't it be a good idea for me to know more since he's the enemy? I need to know his weaknesses too. Just in case."

Jareth drew himself up straighter in the chair, making it look a throne, and steepled his gloved fingers while his elbows rested on the armrests. "Only you Sarah," he murmured with his gaze still distant. "My power is strongest here in my own kingdom. Fiachna does not have a permanent home—at least not that I know of—so it's different for him, but it may make him weaker. These days it's uncertain. I do know that he has warded me from seeing him in my crystals, or even seeing where he now resides. It is very strong, but I tried to overcome it anyway just to get a glimpse of where he might be."

He stopped, leaving Sarah hanging on a thread.

"And?" she prodded.

"Just a bare hint of an image appeared, but I'm not sure it was worth the cost."

"I'm not sure either. You seemed almost near death when I found you. It scared me."

Jareth gave her another indiscernible look that gave her a tingly sensation. "You would grieve my death?"

"I..." Oh, such a terrible question to ask her. "I don't want you to die, no. I just didn't know what had happened or if I should be afraid or if the mage somehow got to you. Is he really that much stronger than you?"

That made him bristle of course. His voice sharpened. "No, he certainly is not. There are just particular things once done that are difficult even for the strongest of the Fey to undo. If I were closer to him, it wouldn't have exhausted my strength so drastically. We may be strongest at certain places, but it takes greater effort the longer we stretch our power over distance."

Sarah's mind began to work. If Fiachna was similar to Jareth, his power would be less the further he was from whatever residence he possessed. "So would your plan include luring Fiachna away from his home? So he's not as strong?"

"Perhaps. We will see won't we? I'm just making the necessary precautions for our little excursion. I would rather I knew where he was when we make that journey. It is likely, though, that he will show up himself at the gala."

That thought dampened her excitement about the grand event, to imagine that dark figure tainting the light and beauty of the fair kings and queens of the Sidhe. And keeping a watch on her and Jareth. She shivered.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a long while. The wind made soft whispers at the windows and rustled the maps on the table. Sarah closed the book still in her grasp and set it aside. Jareth seemed to still feel weak, and in some way it made him a little more open than usual. Or so it seemed.

"What should I expect at a place like this? I mean, I don't imagine a lot of humans get to go," she said.

His head snapped up. His right hand moved, but no crystal appeared in his palm. He glanced down and scowled at where one should be. "No, they don't. I will teach you proper Sidhe Court etiquette, don't worry about that. I won't show up after a few hundred years with someone who will accidentally insult all of the prickly royalty. They are finical about traditions and conduct and all of that."

That eased some of her worries, but there was one more she was loathe to bring up to a man.

As if he could sense her thoughts, the barest of smirks turned his lips, and he gestured with his fingers. "And don't worry about what to wear, my dear," he said in a low tone, "for I will only arrive with my guest dressed finer and lovelier than all the Fey maidens there."

A familiar heat in her cheeks rose. Sarah's first instinct was to flee and get out of the room that suddenly felt so much smaller, but then her resolve hardened. She lifted her chin and stood from her chair as if to leave.

"Well," she said in an imperial voice, "then my escort had better make sure he's fit to be seen with me."

And she waltzed out of the room with a spring in her step and a gleam in her eye, leaving behind a rather bemused and intrigued king in her wake.

"No!"

"Oh, come now, it's not that bad—"

"No, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Dearie, just hold still and let me—"

"Mary, you know I think really well of you and everything, but this...no."

Mary heaved a sigh and dropped her arms to her side. Sarah was backed into a corner with her hands held up in defence, eyes wide, and jaw set in determination. If Mary had been watching as a third party, she'd probably have had a fit of laughter at the scene.

In her hands she held pins and needles and measuring tape. Since she'd lived here in the castle as a servant and the Goblin City didn't exactly sell garments worth buying for any other being, she'd learned to sew her own clothes over the years.

But for some reason, Sarah didn't trust her to do some simple measuring.

"It's not like I'm intending to stick you like a pig," Mary said with a huff. "If you'd stop runnin' away..."

"I'm not running away! I just...think there's a better way to get the right dress."

"Oh," said Mary, "so you think Jareth will get you one? Or make one for you?" The girl really was blind to the fact that she and the Goblin King were not meant to be friends. It must either be everything or nothing, but Sarah was trying to find some balance in the middle. Mary wished to tell her bluntly that the king's heart was as much on the line as hers. "He may be sweeping you away to some romantic ball, but remember, Cinderella had her fairy godmother."

"Fairy godmother? Fairies bite! Don't you know this? That's not helping!"

They had another sort of stand-off staring at each other with mock glares, Mary's hands on her hips and Sarah's still held up. The girl was clad only in a thin white shift which somewhat ruined the fierce front she tried to uphold.

Sarah began to laugh. It was faint at first but soon bubbled up into a full-throated sound. Mary loved the sound of real laughter of joy from human lungs, realising how much it was missed simply by hearing the music coming from the lovely slip of a thing trapped in the corner of her room. The girl continued to laugh until she bent over from the effort.

Mary couldn't help it. The laughter was contagious. Soon it was both of them together filling the bedroom with the delightful sound.

Of course it was in that moment that her liege decided to make his presence known. Mary was wiping tears from the corner of her eyes when she spotted him standing by the door. Her laughter died down, and she stiffened. That man was still as mysterious and beguiling as ever, but she had a healthy fear of his authority.

"Your Majesty," she said with a curtsy, hoping Sarah would notice.

Sure enough, Sarah took one look at him and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Get out!" she said with a scowl. "That's why people knock on doors, to make sure they don't come in when it's not appropriate." Her skin was quite flushed, although the shift was more than decent. It was amusing to see someone not bowing and scraping in fear of him though. This girl was certainly spirited and not afraid to state her opinion.

Mary sighed and added, "Your Majesty, might I suggest waiting a few more moments until the girl is properly dressed?"

Instead of doing what they asked or showing any shame at all, he smirked at them and took a few steps forward. "There is a robe right there on the bed that will suffice, I'm sure."

Sarah continued to glare at him, but she did snatch up the robe and throw it on in a flurry. Once it was tied, she faced him indignantly but didn't say a word. He kept that impudent expression on his face—one that Mary knew all too well—and pressed further in till he was in their midst.

"She won't be properly dressed at this rate, Mary," he said. "She is right though. There is no need for you to make her a gown yourself."

"Yes, your Majesty."

Sarah gave her an odd look, and Mary realised the girl never saw her interact with Jareth before. No matter what, he was still king and she'd learned quickly that respect was always required. Not to mention, she didn't mind. She'd rather serve him than some of the other Sidhe she'd heard rumours about. Here she was mostly ignored, but that was better than being noticed and treated like a worthless being as some mortals were to a handful of the Fey. Not most, just a few who were now infamous.

And then she stood watching a riveting scene unfold before her. She'd seen them in brief snatches together, but this topped it all. This time was different.

"Do you keep trying to pop into my room at the wrong times?" Sarah demanded, completely bypassing the topic of the dress.

Jareth still had his playful air about him. He took another step closer. "It depends on your definition of 'wrong.'"

Sarah still had her arms crossed and a displeased expression with a creased brow and pursed lips. She was all tenseness and the king all relaxed, two opposite sides in appearance yet not so very opposite in character. They were not standing far from each other now. Mary had backed away a little, unnoticed and unobserved as the pair drifted into a world of their own.

"Oh! You're trying to rile me up."

"And it seems to be working."

"And you seem to not understand common courtesy. Can't you just get out of my room and wait till I'm ready?" Sarah said with a frustrated sigh. Her temper was receding.

His grin was as infuriating and handsome as Mary remembered it to be, although he had never looked at her like that. "I've seen what other women in your world wear, Sarah, so I'm surprised you're so chagrined."

"So you think I'm like all the 'other women' that dress in so little?"

A tense quiet filled the air that was already taught with something else. Mary's brown eyes darted between them. Jareth's mischief dissipated a little, and he drew forward yet again.

"Of course not," he said in lower tones. "You've always been different. Set apart from the others. It is something rare and...captivating."

Mary became very uncomfortable since she immediately felt like she was intruding on something private. Those two! The air practically crackled around them with an unseen force that had her holding her breath in anticipation for the moment it finally ignited.

"I came to spare you from becoming a pincushion," he said at last to shatter the tension, "and to tell you your attire for the festivity is already taken care of."

"Taken care of how?"

"In the dream I sent to you when you were in the labyrinth, you had a silver-white gown. Do you remember?"

"Of course," Sarah said quite breathily as if the memory of that dream took her very breath away. Mary had heard the tale finally, but the peach dream was vaguely mentioned. "Did you imagine that for me?"

"No, I didn't."

Jareth closed the rest of the little distance there was and tapped a lingering finger to her brow. Sarah stared up at him with an expression Mary couldn't decipher, but it was sort of...dreamy...or bewildered.

"It was from here in your own imagination just as your new gown will be as well," he said in a near-whisper, his eyes never straying from her face like a thirsty man drinking his fill. "I'm not able to right now, as you can guess, but tomorrow you'll have it."

Another space of time held captive by their interaction passed with Mary holding her breath again. Jareth's finger trailed off of Sarah's pale brow, and he forced himself back. Sarah seemed to return to the waking world with a shudder and thanked him quietly before making some vague excuse about something she had to do. She hurried towards the armoire and began fumbling around looking through the clothes. Jareth spared only a breath before he himself left the room.

As soon as the door closed, Mary released her breath at last and fanned her face. It certainly felt a lot warmer in there than before. Strange. She tossed her pins and measuring tape aside and focused on the girl.

"I've never seen anything like it!" she exclaimed. "I almost left to give you two some privacy! My, my, that was quite a spectacle. Could hardly breathe with all those things in the air around you two!"

Sarah gave her a mortified glance. "Mary! Please don't. I don't want to talk about it."

"Of course you don't because you don't understand it. Well I do. That man would do anything for you if he hasn't already."

"I said I don't want to talk about it. Just...not right now."

"But when, dearie?" Mary said in a gentler voice. She hadn't been around much decent company most her life, but she knew when issues were wrapped too tight around your heart that you had to loose them with words or feel their strangling grip.

"Maybe...maybe after Midsummer's Eve. You're dismissed for now, Mary. I'm going to get dressed and go for a long walk."

Mary sighed and nodded. She just hoped a decision didn't take too long. She wished for Sarah's happiness, of course, but she had a sort of fondness for Jareth as well, and she knew the conditions of his kind: if Sarah continued this way then rejected him a second time, he could very well pass on from the living.

Another thought slid into her mind that made her frown: Jareth had been master of mischief and music, but ever since Sarah's abrupt first departure, she hadn't heard one note of music from his lips.

An indignant cry filled the room just before the door closed behind her.

"Wait a minute! How did he know all that? That little sneak! He's been spying!"

Jareth had regained all of his former strength, Mary hadn't brought up the relationship between him and Sarah, and Sarah had received instruction from him of etiquette for the Sidhe Court. Mostly she learned how to properly greet and treat the royalty and nobility they would encounter. Beyond that, there wasn't much else he could prepare her for, but he did give her a warning to not drink too freely of the golden mead or wander away from him.

As he'd promised, her gown was fashioned from both his magic and her imagination. He had come to her when he was fully recovered, conjured a crystal, and given it to her. She'd been hesitant to touch it, but eventually she let it rest in her hand, the cool smooth surface oddly comforting. The magic within tingled pleasantly on her skin. He left her alone, telling her to simply close her eyes and picture what she wanted and then to turn the crystal 'this way' so it would transform her attire into the dreamed gown.

And it worked better than she had imagined. The extravagant dress was closed away where no one else could see it until the right day.

And that day had arrived at last. Midsummer's Eve: the night Jareth the Goblin King would whisk her away to a magical night of dancing and feasting with the Sidhe royalty themselves.

A/N: So what did you guys think? Hopefully the reasoning for Jareth's sudden weakening made sense and wasn't disappointing. Also, some of you may wonder why Sarah's still so hesitant or acting the way she does. If you put yourself in her shoes, it makes more sense. She's afraid of liking or loving Jareth because that means leaving her world behind for good, including all the family and friends she cares about.

Anywho, hope you guys enjoyed! The evening you've all been waiting for arrives next chapter ;). Please do review my lovely readers! I'd love to reach a 100 reviews soon :)

Melissa72: You are most welcome. It's my honour to do so :). There's so few stories that do anymore...I'm glad you like Jareth! I do too ;). Thank you so much for your kind and encouraging words! God bless you as well!

Many warm thanks to: The Queen Of Water, LightShadowSeeker, Katori, DaniellaPeirce, , TheWordMasterOfFiction, gothicrocker2, ButterflyOnTheWall, Senshi at Heart, Dreamingcharlie, Elisabeth S, and Melissa 72. You guys are so amazing!