A Twisting Heart And Mind

by FangamerBowiextreme

While unknown to her, Sarah has succeeded in obtaining the one thing the Goblin King has desired for hundreds of years -power over the Labyrinth. After being hidden for years from his diabolical wrath, Sarah finds herself alone and vulnerable as Jareth's dark desires are finally allowed to rear their ugly heads. As always, the only question is, are things really as they seem?

41. Radiant

A/N— ...It's been over a year since I last updated this, hasn't it? I apologize to those who have been waiting. It has been a monumentally difficult year for me and writing has been the at the absolute bottom of my list of priorities. Things have been trending up recently, however, so I was FINALLY able to get this done. As I mentioned before, this chapter ended up being stupid long, so I've actually cut it into two parts. Here is part 1. I have a few more revisions to do on part 2, but I'm planning to have it posted within a week or so (hopefully). There's a lot of important bits of exposition and foreshadowing in this arc, so definitely read between the lines of almost everything. I also tried to phrase things in a manner that would not require readers to have to go back and reread past chapters to understand the references, so I hope it doesn't come off as redundant (although it technically is, lol). Anyway, I am glad to be writing again and I hope I haven't lost the interest off too many of you. Now, without further adieu...

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Chapter 34, Radiant

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"Hehe Roldan! Look! Do you see this right now? We're trotting!"

Amara giggled as Maelyn pranced along the dirt path, not too fast nor too slow, leading the way through the forest. Roldan smiled softly as he watched her from the back, an expression he was completely unaware of.

"I do see. You're doing well," he called back to her, keeping his own horse, Elnen, a careful distance behind her. His attention thus far had been studiously fluctuating between whatever mischief that might lurk in the trees and the curly-headed girl bouncing along without the slightest care but, presently, she was all he cared to look at. She continued to laugh, her gleeful voice carrying on between the twisted trees of the forest.

It was early morning. The grass was still wet with dew and the air a tad crisp. Fresh sunlight fell pale-white over the land, steadily brightening the woods through diffused beams and sparkles, gently rousing its inhabitants. It'd been quiet, save for Amara. But even with her sudden outcries and spontaneous giggles, it was still peaceful. Somewhat cold at first, it was now pleasantly warm —a fleeting prelude to what would become the daily, torrid heat of the desert. Birds nesting high in the trees were just now waking, their light chirps and songs bringing a richer ambiance to the serenity of the landscape. But, for as pretty as all of that might have been, it could hardly compete with the true object of Roldan's gander. As the woodland thinned and the path widened, he decided to forgo the sights and trot alongside Amara. She was staring at her hands gripping the reins, her smile near ear to ear. She had no idea how much time he spent just staring.

"I think she's starting to get used to me," Amara said, legs squeezing the saddle as her body shifted to and fro. A light breeze swept back her hair from her face, the tight curls flowing in undulations in time with Maelyn's gait. Roldan's eyes lowered briefly, taking in the little frills and cinches on her white cotton shirt. She wore it tucked into a pair of brown trousers which were themselves tucked into a pair of tall black boots —better for riding, she'd said. It was far too plebeian of a look for her, for Roldan's tastes, and yet…he could hardly criticize her for it.

Yes, it certainly wasn't the morning Roldan had anticipated but, being the early risers that they were, Amara had proclaimed it was the perfect opportunity to sneak in another riding lesson. They were all meant to depart for Erykberg later that day, so the rest of the castle had chosen to sleep in. And that may have been the very first instance Roldan was glad that the rest of them were so damn lazy.

"Do you think we can go faster?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.

Roldan arched a brow and smirked.

"Can you handle going faster?" he replied mockingly. "Do you remember what happened last time?"

Amara scoffed and turned up her nose.

"Yes, well, I was caught off guard back then," she said, petulantly, then slanted her eyes at him again. "Have I not proven what a fast learner I am? Where is your faith, Roldan?"

Roldan held back a weak chuckle and looked ahead. The forest would open into a meadow soon —plenty of room for Maelyn to dash around in a panic, if needed, he supposed.

"Very well then," he said. "You know what to do."

With his blessing, Amara grinned and gripped the reins tighter, then faced forward and ushered Maelyn into a gallop. Roldan half expected her to go flying off the back of the horse from the sudden jerk forward, but she braced herself well. She took off without a second glance, leaving him to eat his own words in her wake.

His brows lifted up his forehead while the rest of his expression remained deadpan. Indeed, she was a fast learner. No one would ever guess it was only her second time riding. He nudged his horse to catch up with her, passing through the tall grass and wildflowers that were bending in the breeze.

Amara rode confidently across the meadow, filled with the thrill of it as the morning air kissed her face. Taking all of Roldan's instructions to heart, she hoped to impress him with her improvement and redeem herself from last time's mishap. She far preferred his praise than his shouting —best keep that experience novel, at least while directed at her.

She brought her horse to a halt at the crest of a small hill, pausing to take in the land around her. It was still so peculiar to her that a place of such lush greenery existed in the center of a vast desert. It really was an oasis. Beautiful and wild.

She turned at the sound of Elnen's gallop as Roldan came to join her at her side again.

"Well done," he said, dryly. "Now what?"

Amara looked around until she spotted another trail.

"Hmm...how about there?" she asked and pointed towards a shadowed spot in the trees. Roldan nodded, and off they went again.

The path Amara chose was new to her and led them deeper into the forest, away from the castle. The buzzing of insects joined the twitter of birds, the sounds increasing with the brightening of the sun. She gauged that it might be about seven o'clock and vaguely wondered how much longer Roldan would give her before decreeing they ought to return to the castle.

She slowed her horse to an easy walk, gazing deep into the woods as if each and every tree was something to appreciate. Roldan carried on silently beside her. Several minutes passed in that quiet contentment and then something caught Amara's eye.

Her brows knitted and she focused harder, trying to decipher what was poking out from between the trees. She even pulled on the reins to make Maelyn stop so she could stare intently into the distance.

Roldan stopped as well and looked at her curiously.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Amara scowled.

"Nothing. I'm just…trying to figure out what that thing is over there," she replied, and glanced back at him before looking forward and pointing. "Over there. See? Doesn't it look like part of a building or something?"

Roldan peered over Amara's head and caught sight of the object. Indeed, it did —a barely visible stone corner jutting out between the frame of two trees.

"I wonder what it is," she said.

Roldan looked around, trying to orient their location. When he remained silent, Amara turned back to wait expectantly.

"If I'm right…then we're nearing the cemetery. It's probably part of a mausoleum," he eventually said. Amara perked up in the saddle and looked over at the mysterious silhouette again.

"What? A cemetery? There's a cemetery this deep into the forest?" she asked.

"Yes. For the royal family," Roldan replied, trying to wrangle the sudden fidgeting of his horse. He said that nonchalantly, but Amara regarded it another way. She sat up higher with excitement and turned her head sharply back to Roldan.

"Oh? …oh of course!" she said, the concept suddenly dawning on her. "You mean Gahl Garden, right?" she asked. Roldan nodded and she nearly smacked herself in the forehead, but chose to simply shake it instead. "Gosh, why didn't I realize? Ah, but that sounds exciting, doesn't it?!" Then she bounced and her eyes brightened when she asked, "Can we go see it?"

Roldan paused, feeling a blip of reluctance, but didn't know why. Maybe it was the idea of someone as lively as her being surrounded by the gloom of a cemetery that put him off, or maybe it was his memory of the hill and dale they'd have to trudge through once there. Regardless, his thick brows drew tight together and he looked over Amara at the building in question again.

"...why would you want to?" he asked. Amara cocked her head confusedly.

"Hm? What kind of question is that? It's a historic site, so of course I want to see it —and to pay my respects, naturally," she answered, lips pursed together as she looked over at the building again, this time in uncertainty. "I mean, Gahl Garden is practically sacred. It's where past goblin monarchs are laid to rest and, in case you've forgotten, a fair number of them have been pretty darn prominent in Orpian history…" And one of her eyebrows arched. "So of course I want to go—nay, as a future lordess I feel obligated to go." Then her eyes rounded in that pretty way and she looked up at him and asked, "It's still early. I doubt Queen Sarah is even awake yet. I'm feeling giddy already so…will you please take me?"

Roldan felt his ears tense, but it came from the sudden grit of his teeth. She had to do that intentionally, had to know what effect that look and that sweet upturn would have on any man. A part of him loathed how he was no better, but a greater part enjoyed the feeling her attention gave him. It made him feel useful, valued. It lessened his awareness of the fact that he'd discarded all of his obligations to be with her that morning, that they were now all alone in the woods. Not a soul even knew where they were…

Yes, it was complete serendipity that they crossed paths in the hall that day. He had been preparing for everyone's departure. And Amara….Amara was bored. It was…probably a bad sign that he stopped caring about absolutely everything the moment she asked him a question but…the goblins could handle it. …probably.

He had absolutely no interest in paying respects or creeping through Jareth's family grave. Honestly, they should start heading back before Jareth realized he was gone and asked why he'd abandoned his post. But, even still…

"...alright," he said, with very little hesitation.

Amara lit up and smiled widely, her sudden flex of the knees prompting Maelyn to step forward. A flash of panic stole her features in a comical way, but she immediately recovered with a giggle. Maelyn halted once more and Amara patted her mane —when really the gesture was to calm herself.

"Oh yay! Thank you!" she squealed, turning around to face the building. "How do we get there? The brush looks too thick to cut straight through. And I think I see a fence, too. Is there a gate somewhere or…?"

"This path should take us to the entrance," Roldan said, halting her rambling while prompting his horse to move forward. "I know the way. It shouldn't take long to get there." He took the lead and Amara nodded at him deftly, sitting up higher in her seat.

---

Amara looked on eagerly as Roldan led them deeper into unknown parts of the forest, the ten minute walk feeling much longer to her. Eventually the trees thinned once more, revealing a vine-crusted fence and gate that stood nearly twenty feet high. The horses paced in silence as they came to stand before the high arches of the gateway, made of thick metal bars that had long since rusted over. Iron filigree decorated the face of it, little cast iron creatures and fairies welded within, circling the two halves of a winged being displaying the Goblin crest in its chest that was only whole while the doors were closed. Beyond them, Amara could see two brilliant statues overlooking the main walkway. Scattered around the lawn behind them, the tips of tombstones erected above tall grasses and weeds. Her eyes searched for further details but, beyond the roofs of scattered crypts and mausoleums, the overgrowth made it difficult. Even the once polished slabs of the walkway had been worn and cracked by roots, rendering them no finer than rough cobblestone. A light breeze wove between the headstones and sepulchers, rustling the knotted grass in an echo of eerie silence…and that was it.

Nature felt even quieter as Amara took it all in for, as excited as she'd been, she was now saddened —her visions and fancies quickly crumbling like the monuments around her. She couldn't believe it. That place was renowned the world over…and it was immediately apparent that no one had lifted a finger to care for it in a very, very long time.

Roldan dismounted and hitched his horse to one of the bars on the fence. Amara was less quick, frowning as she wondered why an important, venerable place like that was left in such disrepair.

Thinking she was waiting for his help, Roldan went over and led her horse to the fence, hitching its reins before offering his hands out to her. Amara looked down at him in mild surprise but was happy to accept the gesture. She placed her hands on his shoulders like before and let him pull her from the saddle. If his fingers at all flexed or lingered around her waist, she didn't notice.

He set her down on her feet, then moved to unlatch the gate.

"This…is really it?" she asked, trying not to frown any deeper. "Our national cemetery? The burial site of His Majesty's esteemed royal family? Of generations of kings and queens going back to time immemorial?"

Her voice raised with each inflection, conveying some combination of bemusement and offense. Roldan frowned as he snapped the rusted hooks on the gate's lock, doing his best to ignore the sensation of her soft waist that still lingered on his thumbs.

"Yes," he replied, jingling the lock to make sure it'd actually given way. "This isn't a place anyone visits…ever. So—" One more loud snap, then the gate finally opened. "—some neglect is expected."

Amara's lower lip pouted at the back of Roldan's head.

"But to not have a groundskeeper?" she said, scowling before giving the thickets tangled between the bars beside her a sideways glance. "...this is a hallowed place. I don't want to sound impudent, but…"

But Roldan finished for her.

"It's disrespectful?" he said. Amara froze when he suddenly peered down at her. "That's what you want to say, yes?"

Amara sucked in her lips, not speaking but nodding yes. Indeed, it was impudent of her, but Roldan didn't mind. Because she was right. It was egregiously disrespectful of Jareth not to care for his family's resting place. Still, he understood why he didn't. There was no love or respect lost nor ever found in that family. That aside, it might and should have been a matter for Roldan to lecture him on, if Roldan possessed even just one faithful bone in his own body.

As it was, to Roldan, it was all just rocks and dirt.

"Jareth has his reasons," he said, taking a step forward to push one of the gate doors open. It squealed loudly in an ear piercing tone, so he paused briefly. "I can't say they are justifiable reasons, so I suppose he'll have to answer to the Almother for them…eventually." He pushed again, more determinedly. The fused hinges on the door cracked, crumbles of rust falling into the grass but, with a bit of magic to ease the shrill creak that followed, he was able to open it enough for them to comfortably walk through. The heavy door brushed over the long blades of grass, matting it down for them. Amara remained unusually quiet, not quite liking the hint of sarcasm she sensed in Roldan's tone.

He turned back to face her expectantly.

"Here, take my hand," he said, offering it to her. "Don't want you tripping on some hidden rock."

---

The walk through the graveyard was silent and eerily contemplative. Amara looked around in intrigue but felt only disappointment. She had to guess where the paths laid and what beauty that place had once possessed, but it was difficult even for her level of imagination. Roldan walked her down the center aisle. The broken path stones she'd been eyeing revealed a variety of colors peeking out from the grass underfoot, which were her only indication of what the former aesthetic might have been. She saw stained and sooted tones of red, blue, and amber.

The pair of statues that greeted them at the entrance were ceremonial guardians, depictions of two proud beasts that she couldn't quite decipher. They had been worn down by the rain, their only clear remaining features being a head, wings, and a set of four limbs. There were tall, hand carved stones everywhere on either side of them. Some of them displayed figures of both animals and fae. Others were of geometric shapes, large spheres or diamonds balanced upon the narrowest pillar. Some were embedded with precious stones and gems; the reflective iridescence of crystals could be picked out here and there —sharp highlights sparkling beneath layers of thorns and rotting vines. All were heavily embellished with ornate designs and the crest of that particular line in the family. Some still showed names, but most were worn away from the elements. And even more were broken to bits, weathered and scattered into heaps of rubble, the person or persons they were meant to memorialize forever lost to the clutches of weeds.

An old fountain stood petrified and parched. A sitting area, buried in such thick thicket that it was impossible to get to, poked out at her from the side. Tombs and vaults loomed along the edges housing more "important" individuals, their dark metal doors locked and withholding. And, as the minutes stretched and the disquiet grew, Amara found herself growing as curious as she was let down.

"So…it's a lot bigger than I thought it would be," she said, speaking quietly while on hallowed ground. Roldan glanced around arbitrarily.

"Yes. Jareth's family extends further than most people realize," he said.

Amara nodded along, still pouting.

"I heard how Thaelon tried to rewrite the lineage and that His Majesty was working to correct it, but…even still. I did not realize just how many there truly were." And she frowned, her arm, locked with Roldan's, flexing tightly. "How could he try to just erase so many people? To just…make them not exist? And for what? It's awful."

Her lamentation sounded sincere, which Roldan found peculiar. Then again, she had a much bigger heart than he.

"It was idiotic, is what it was," he replied, snarkily. Amara pouted further, a deep crease marring her brow.

"Hm…I just wish the names weren't so worn. How can I pay my respects properly when I don't know to whom I'm speaking?" she asked, to herself mostly. She sighed and Roldan peered down to spy on her expression. She looked sad. He didn't like it.

"Were you intending on blessing each grave individually?" he asked. Amara shrugged.

"I don't know. But I'd at least like to have had the option. This is just…too sad." She shook her head and closed her eyes briefly. Roldan really did not understand why this upset her so much.

"To be fair…this place was in ruins long before Jareth took charge of it. Thaelon forbade access to it once his revisions began," he said, feeling the queer need to defend Jareth. Amara's arm loosened and slid out of Roldan's, which alarmed him for a split second, until she stopped and gripped his upper arm with her hand instead. He relaxed, realizing he preferred that type of hold even more.

"Surely, it must have been. I can envision Thaelon performing such sacrilege easily. But…what of the ancients? What of the kings who Thaelon did appreciate? Are even their graves derelict?" she asked.

"Not all, no," Roldan replied, his fingers curling into a sly fist at the feeling of hers flexing into his sleeve. "That said, many of the ancient tombs are no longer here. Or…they are empty."

"Empty?" Amara asked, halting abruptly. She turned her head up at him and he looked over to meet her halfway. "How are they empty? And what do you mean, no longer here?"

"Just as I said," Roldan answered, then glanced around the open space. "The ancients are buried underground. Last I checked, a large portion of the catacombs housing Jareth's ancestors had caved in. Due to the structural instability of the tunnels, it's been impossible to excavate, even with magic. But that doesn't matter." He paused just as his wandering gaze caught a glimpse of her expression —fixed and tight with puzzlement. He returned her focus and held her stare when continuing. "Documents state that even before the collapse, the bodies of most of the more prominent figures from the past are simply not there," he said, to her alarm. "They were given memorials, but it's said that there are no actual, physical remains."

Amara continued staring up at him with twisted up features. That did not make any sense to her. None at all.

"But why?" she asked. Roldan shrugged.

"I don't know."

She scowled and glanced down, then around at the scenery.

"Then…where are they?" she asked. That time, Roldan frowned as well.

"Frankly?" he asked, and she peered up at him again. "No one knows."

Amara drew back, hesitant to reply. She just plain didn't know what to say. That was completely unexpected news to her and much more serious business than Roldan was making it out to be. What had happened? she wondered. Had graverobbers made away with them eons passed? Had the earth swallowed them? Had Thaelon moved them somewhere else? Oh, Alvra, take pity on those poor souls...

Amara blinked repeatedly as she sorted her thoughts.

"That is…disturbing," she said, gaze lowering in perturbation. "So…who is missing, exactly? I've read so much of our history. I was hoping…to be able to see the resting place of those who shaped our nation for myself…" Her voice trailed off. Oh so sad.

"Yes…I'm sure you'll find much about the Capital is disappointing," Roldan replied, in a neutral tone. "Jareth, Davion, and I had the same hopes the first time we snuck through the gate," he continued, earning Amara's gaze again. "We were thrilled by the infamy of it and sought out those legendary heroes like Exelion and the rest. Sadly, however, we found next to nothing. There is a monument for Fendrin that was left mostly intact, although it's exceedingly difficult to get to and part of it is buried in rubble. —But there is nothing for his sons. Neither is there any trace of Exelion."

Amara's eyes widened and she actually flinched.

"W-Really? But Exelion…he was the first goblin king!" she said, with a slight rise. "He pulled our people out of turmoil! He literally founded our nation. Where could he be, if not here?"

She both looked and sounded out of sorts and, again, Roldan just did not understand.

"I don't know. Perhaps their true burial sites are elsewhere, kept secret,"he said, listlessly, to her great, great disappointment. Amara looked up at him and frowned, the expression cutting so deep it began to resemble anger. Then she looked away from him, letting go of his arm to cross her own over her chest. Then she took a small step away.

"I don't like this, Roldan," she murmured, glaring at nothing. "Not at all."

Roldan wondered if it would be okay to reach out for her.

He didn't.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked. Amara sighed and raised her chin, glancing around.

"...no. No, I want to keep looking," she decided, loosening her arms and taking a deep breath before peering back at him with a forced smile. "I should still appreciate those who are here. It would be disingenuous of me to only care for the ones they sing songs about."

Roldan's expression remained impassive, although it was getting hard for him not to show his own disappointment. It seemed his sense of foreboding had been correct. This was not a place he should have taken her. To see her frown was a failure on his part. However, unsure of how else to redeem himself, he decided to continue humoring her. "Alright," he said, and offered out his arm again. She accepted and they continued walking.

Silence endured but became less weighty as they meandered to wherever it was still possible to do so. Amara made a point to stop and pray at each headstone they could access, even dusting off some of the moss and grime in a show of respect. Roldan did not join her in this, only watching quietly with a look of concern. He wondered if he should join her, but he honestly didn't know where to begin. There were no Fendr'al prayers for the dead, which made him also wonder what religion she was even subscribing to. At the very least, he did not want to offend her by saying something crass, so he stayed quiet. The look on her face while she prayed was sincere —so much so that, to him, it was a little odd.

After what felt like a long while, they finally reached the center of the cemetery and came upon a large clearing where the flagstones hadn't yet cracked. They formed a wide, circular mosaic. Colorful stones and gems cut among them made detailed patterns that directed the eye towards the gates of an imposing building that stood before them at the center. It was also worn and weathered but still retained an impression of its original dignity. Solid stone pillars held up a brilliant facade, housing depictions of what she inferred were the same winged deities from the entrance carrying out scenes along the mantel high above. A stained glass window in the center formed the traditional Goblin Crest —only a couple pieces being cracked or missing.

"Oh wow…" Amara mumbled as she stepped onto the stonework. Her disappointment fled and she stared downward, finally able to appreciate the craftsmanship of architects long since passed. When she looked up again, her neck craned back, trying to glimpse even the most minute detailing on the metal prongs that lined the edges of the roof. It was still in need of repair and not quite as glorious as it could be but, even still, she suffered a moment of awe while taking it all in —whatever that building was, it was definitely important.

"Is this…the building we saw from the woods?" she asked Roldan, finding the dark color and cut of the stone to be familiar to her. Roldan nodded at her side.

"Yes," he said, mindlessly crossing his arms when she let go of him and stepped closer.

"What is it?" she asked. Roldan quirked a brow at her.

"A mausoleum?" he replied. Amara looked back at him sharply and with a scoff.

"Oh, I gathered that much, silly," she said, rolling her eyes. "I mean, who is inside of it?"

Roldan pursed his lips and looked up at the building.

"Past kings and queens," he said, then gestured at it with his chin. "This is the entrance to the Royal Crypt and the catacombs I told you about. It's reserved exclusively for seated monarchs. All others in Jareth's line: siblings, their children, spouses, aunts, uncles, divergent bloodlines, etcetera, are laid to rest out here."

Amara blinked rapidly and looked at the shadowed doors ahead.

"I see…" she said, then a light sparked in her eyes. She glanced back at Roldan with that canny twinkle in tow. "May we enter?" she asked.

Roldan exhaled slowly. He had to or else his jaw would clench again and he was getting really tired of doing that. His crossed arms tightened instead and he casually looked away from her.

"I suppose," he replied, as aloof as could be. Such efforts were in vain though, for he nearly jumped out of his skin when a sudden, fervid hand of hers launched forward and clamped onto his arm, shaking him silly as she jittered with glee.

"Really?! Oh yay!" she said, suddenly smiling ear to ear. "I for sure thought you were going to say it was locked or off limits, or maybe we don't have enough time but—oh, how exciting!"

She let go of his arm and dashed up the stairs leading to the doors. Roldan took a moment to collect himself, then followed. She was already tapping her lip by the time he rejoined her, clearly trying to figure out how to open them.

"It's locked…" she said, then peered up at him sweetly and asked, "You don't happen to have the key on you, do you?" Roldan cracked a grin and reached into the pocket inside the breast of his coat.

"Actually…." and he pulled something out. "I do."

Oh?

"You do?" she repeated, clearly surprised.

Roldan's expression was unusually smug as Amara blinked and stepped out of his way. What he held was not a key, but rather a pendent—one identical to those she'd seen on His Majesty. Her head cocked as she inspected the way he held it out to the lock on the door.

"I have access to most places on the castle grounds," he explained, letting the magic in the pendent interact with the door as Amara looked on attentively. "Some places, like this, are locked with enchantments. Jareth gave me this to make both our lives easier. It was incredibly annoying having to constantly ask him for access to the many facilities that I oversee on a daily basis. And this pendent…well, it's a lot more efficient than carrying around a keyring."

A bit of reverence highlighted Amara's expression as Roldan spoke. It amazed her that the King could trust one person so implicitly. To give a subordinate —a serf— authority to bypass his own seals? And to entrust such a critical device to him without supervision? What havoc could be wrought should that little item go missing, she wondered? Ah, not that she doubted Roldan's diligence. Of course he of all people would have earned such a right. What an honor, she thought, what dignity. She knew Roldan was a prominent governing figure, but this seemingly small act reinforced her respect and admiration for him.

She might have whispered another "wow…" under her breath and, just like that, the doors were opened.

Roldan pocketed his key and pushed the heavy doors open, none the wiser to her barefaced ogling. A series of torches ignited within, illuminating the dark hall just enough to guide themselves through. He stepped in first to make sure it was structurally safe, then turned back to face her.

"Come along," he said. "We don't have a lot of time before we need to head back."

Amara licked her lips and nodded, too happy to acknowledge his warning, and skipped across the threshold to join him.

---

The surface level of the crypt was superficial. It housed nothing beyond a series of illustrations carved into the walls that framed an ornate stairwell that descended into thick darkness. She did not readily recognize the story in the carvings, so chose not to spend much time decoding them and instead headed down into the abyss. More torches lit along the way, but their dim flames were not enough to breach the pall of the catacombs. Both she and Roldan ignited an orb of light to lead them, the magical luminance bright enough to unveil their surroundings in finer detail.

The tunnels spanned like a second labyrinth, with no direction of any kind. Amara was hesitant to venture down any hall that required a turn, but Roldan's silent air of confidence kept her moving forward. Hopefully he would be able to guide them out if needed.

Humidity grew the deeper they descended. Dampness on the walls gave the old stones a shine as their guiding lights passed by and an ominous echo resounded the sound of their footsteps, crackling over bits of dirt and grime. Every few minutes the hall would open into a burial chamber. There Amara found statues in much better condition, preserved through the milenia. Sarcophagi sealed by ancient magic were overlooked by stone guardians, the gloom of darkness outweighed by the sheer brilliance of the stonework. Amara stopped and inspected each, doing her best to decipher names scribed in the old tongue, and prayed. Most of those they found she had never heard of, which stoked her curiosity to keep on exploring. Just who would they find if she had the courage to venture down the many twists and turns they'd passed already? She was careful to keep that curiosity tempered, however, telling herself they could come back on another occasion when they had more time for such dallying. Roldan was mostly quiet, only speaking up to answer a question here or there.

They were deep underground in a sector where the hall narrowed and the foundation became uneven. Stones were broken and an odd hum traveled the air. Roldan made sure to stay closer to her—in case something dangerous like an earthquake suddenly fell upon them…or something.

"I'm still in shock to learn that Exelion isn't somewhere in here," Amara said, ignorant to any sense of danger. Roldan gave her a side eye. "And Fendrin, too. I don't know of two more critical figures in Goblin history. Where is the memorial located?" she asked.

"Very deep," Roldan replied. "It would take a day and a night to reach it. And the path is not exactly safe, assuming it still exists at all."

Amara frowned, her excitement towards future adventures dampening fast. She probably couldn't get away with precarious spelunking, no matter how cutely she smiled.

"Oh. How disappointing," she said, puckering her lips in thought. "Then…what about Aldean? Or Raelnor?"

Roldan's eyes averted as he thought.

"Hm…Aldean is here, deeper within," he said. "Raelnor…I don't remember. Perhaps."

Amara hummed in kind, looking away from him and back at the tunnel ahead. She could see another open doorway coming up. She wondered who she'd find in there.

Thus far, not a single chamber had a door, only a stone archway to frame the threshold —and this room was no different. Amara stepped into it and directed her light to move above them, illuminating the room as best it could. Roldan, who had been beside her all the while, chose to linger a few steps behind.

"Hm. Now this room is pretty. I wonder who's here." Amara spoke to herself and paced about. There were frescoes painted into the walls which, while not unique among the other tombs she'd seen, depicted very specific imagery that she found curious.

There were four scenes, with peculiar cherubs and winged beings littering the background. A narrative spanned from one side of the room to the other, but Amara was unfamiliar with what it might be. In one panel, a woman sat beside a large pile of…something. She was smiling down as a procession of ants moved around her. In the second panel, the same woman was gently caressing a yellow sheep. Or…was it meant to be golden? Predatory creatures prowled behind her, but she did not fear them. On the other wall, a panel showed the mysterious woman kneeling at a riverbed, the waters murky and black. She held out a crystal vile as an eagle flew overhead. The fourth panel was particularly curious. This time, the woman laid asleep. Reclined on a chaise, it seemed she had dropped a box that now sat on the floor beside her. Above her loomed a new figure, a beautiful man with glorious wings that reminded Amara of the figures she'd seen etched along the outside of the building. It looked as if he was about to embrace the woman, his look on her intent and ardent. Amara had no idea what any of it meant, but it was lovely.

Turning away from the paintings, she approached the sepulcher that stood in the center of the far wall. It was a tall, elegant carving of a woman. Perhaps…the woman from the paintings, she wondered? She wore long robes that, despite being made of stone, flowed airily around her. Her hair was long and curly, though a veil shrouded part of her face. She was looking down, with her arms held open, at an altar of some kind that seemed to extend further back into the wall, alluding to a hidden chamber behind it. The small section that protruded displayed the goblin crest. However, this one was woven between the branches of a tree. Amara wondered which house that denoted, but her attention soon caught on something even more interesting.

Atop the stone pedestal, lying directly under the woman's gaze, was another painting. It was small and simple —an infant cherub sleeping atop folds of velvet. Words were carved around the image, but they were in a language she did not know. Amara began to frown and her brows knitted together. There was something different about this room. She knelt down to better inspect the crest and found a name carved at the very bottom. Her body cast a shadow over the inscription, so it was hard to read.

"There's a name here, but it's hard to make out," she called back to Roldan and narrowed her eyes on the marks. "I think it says Aur...Aur…eliana?"

Hm, was that right? She wasn't sure and was about to call down her floating light when—

"Aurelia," Roldan said, abruptly. Amara flinched and sat back on her heels. His voice sounded a lot closer than she'd expected it to and she looked up to find him standing directly beside her. She hadn't heard him enter the room and had assumed he was still on the threshold. That said, her nerves quickly settled and she stood to her feet, turning her head up to admire the impressive statue just like he was.

"Ah. So it is. Aurelia…" Amara mumbled thoughtfully. "Hm…so then…I guess that means this must be His Majesty's first wife?"

Roldan's eyes widened and he felt his head start to turn, but Amara was ignorant of the spike of adrenaline tightening his expression. No, while his heart had given a sudden pound so hard he felt it flushing his face, Amara only grinned, staring upward and openly with a calm and reverent look. He stared at her fiercely for a moment, then realized his reaction was uncalled for and immediately tried to curb it. He blinked furiously and looked away again, taking in a deep breath and standing rigidly in place. He said nothing; he really couldn't for a moment. Meanwhile, Amara's eyes flickered up and down the statue, then she tilted her head close to his shoulder.

"I remember reading about her," she said, her voice quieter and more intimate. "So very sad how she passed." She spoke innocently, in total obliviousness of the way he gulped. She looked down at the picture again, things starting to click into place. "So…this painting then….must be for the baby? Were they laid to rest together? That's unusual."

Her question was rhetorical, or at least he hoped. Roldan found it a physical trial just to un-grit his jaw. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, only that he'd been caught off guard and pitifully so. He had not expected her to have any awareness of Aurelia. He'd forgotten this was her chamber and, after stumbling upon it, had hoped to move on from it quickly and without much discussion. To have Amara there of all places, to hear her name come out of Amara's mouth…it was far more than uncanny. It was downright terrifying.

He managed to clear his throat and avert his eyes before stiffly muttering an almost inconspicuous, "You know of her?"

Amara turned her head to look up at him, operating on a totally different wavelength —blessed be.

"Of course. How could I not?" she replied, matter-of-fact. "I've already told you I'm a history buff, and Queen Aurelia was definitely a person worth noting." Her good natured tone earned his attention, if only as a slight sideways glance. She caught his gaze nonetheless and smiled. "I've always admired her, actually. She made such great strides for our people during her reign. I find that commendable, considering she was born a citizen of Yore." Then she looked away and pursed her lips. "Actually…both she and His Majesty made great strides early on. It's amazing how much they accomplished together in such a short amount of time."

Roldan swallowed again and breathed in slowly through his nose. His heart was beating harder than it should have been and it was all he could think about. It was an asinine reaction and needed to stop. He was pathetic for not overcoming it quickly. At least she wasn't paying much attention to him. He just needed to calm the fuck down.

"Yes…they were both very driven," he said, steadily if not tersely. "—Although I wouldn't say they accomplished anything together." A certain amount of disdain showed itself in his speech. Amara looked up at him confusedly, but he would only give her a quick glance before looking straight ahead again. "...they worked independently from one another on projects they felt personally invested in," he felt compelled to explain. "There was little collaboration."

Amara watched him pensively.

"Perhaps they felt it would be more efficient that way?" she suggested. Roldan's stoicism steeled.

"...perhaps."

His clipped reply posed no significance to Amara, who continued to ponder the memorial in front of them. The monument was large and encapsulated most of the wall, the seams of the tesselating bricks seeming to move around the statue's contours rather than pass behind it, which reinforced her inference that Aurelia herself was kept isolated in a sealed chamber behind it —which was common among the other chambers they'd passed through. Given the imagery on the altar, she could only presume that mother and child had indeed been entombed together, which was odd given what Roldan had said about the exclusivity of the mausoleum. All the other children they'd come across had been buried outside. She'd even found a small section specifically for toddlers and stillbirths. She could therefore only attribute this anomaly to King Jareth's compassionate heart. Yes, that must have been it.

She raked her eyes over the detailed carvings until she reached the statue's face. Wet drapery covered her forehead and eyes, but if Amara tilted her head she could see the crest of her cheek bones underneath. She marveled at the skill required to craft such a piece, then took a step back from it.

"Hm…well, I am glad she is still here, at least," she said, bowing her head respectfully. "This is a beautiful headstone. She must have been deeply beloved to have been given something so large and of such fine craftsmanship."

She spoke so calmly. It was enough to make Roldan wonder why he'd gotten so worked up. Her gentleness, her surety, her reverence for someone she had never even met…it soothed him. The pain was still there, but he felt a weight start to settle on him the more Amara spoke, slowing his pulse and easing the knot there. He looked at Amara's profile with a hard brow, unsure of his own thoughts, then away again. His jaw finally loosened when he gazed upon the figure's visage, blurred memories playing out silently behind his eyes. Deeply beloved, was she? Hm…

"Yes...she was," he said, quietly, carrying with it a somberness yet to be noticed.

"And rightly so, I imagine," Amara replied. "It's because of her efforts that institutionalized education became available among the peasantry and lower species. She uplifted our entire nation by nurturing the minds and ambitions of the masses." She smiled at the figure, her gaze turning wistful. "It must have been a difficult undertaking…" Then she turned and caught Roldan dead in the eye. "Was it difficult?" she asked, point-blank. "I know you were also involved in that initiative. You worked with her directly on it, didn't you?"

Roldan hesitated, feeling another twinge of something re-tighten his chest. He didn't know how to respond. Almost no one even knew Aurelia had existed, let alone her accomplishments. And even less knew of his own part in them. How exactly did she know so much? How could she speak of it so easily?

Oh…right. Because, back then, everything that mattered had never been spoken, let alone documented.

The stiffness in Roldan's shoulders endured, along with the muscle flexing in his jaw, his body regressing back into that too familiar state of sizzling broodiness. He broke away from Amara's stare. He had to. He'd make himself a greater fool otherwise.

"Yes…I did," he said to her, eyes lowering briefly. "And….yes, it was incredibly difficult."

Amara watched him struggle through that sentence, finding his humility so admirable it made her smile beam. It was amazing how someone of such distinction could be so humble. That and…well…she supposed he looked rather cute just then, too.

"But look at how all that hard work has blossomed over the centuries. This country really would not be what it is without you," Amara said, clapping her hands together cheerfully. A faint giggle followed that succeeded in drawing his attention again. He peered over at her slyly, just to catch her smile widen. "Goodness. And to think, here you are all these years later, teaching me how to ride horses and indulging my silly whims. I feel so privileged just to stand next to you."

The way her smile touched her eyes felt unfit for the situation, but he supposed that was because ignorance was bliss. A strange contention welled as his blood heated. She looked so sweet and endearing. So true. Even now, there of all places, he felt flustered by her sheer candidness. It made no sense. He couldn't fathom how someone could be so honest.

The brazenness of her eyes on him made him cough in embarrassment. He angled away from her to clear his throat and sort through his confusion.

"That's a bit excessive…" he muttered into his fist.

Amara waved him off, lightly tapping him on the arm.

"Nonsense," she retorted. "You're a bonafide celebrity."

Roldan scoffed and averted his eyes. Great. And now his face was getting warm.

"You're more of a celebrity than I," he countered, looking over at her again with an arched brow. "People have actually heard of you. Your work entertains and moves people."

Amara pursed her lips cheekily and folded her arms, giving him a canny eye.

"Hm, I suppose you're right," she said, then pointed a finger up in the air. "Celebrity is too tepid a label for you then. You deserve one far greater. I'll let you know when I come up with something suitable." She nodded then turned on her heel, arms still crossed while she gazed at the statue once more. "This does make me curious though….I've read so much, but you can't really know a person that way. What was she like?"

A pause followed her question and, after a moment, she peered over at Roldan expectsntly. He was already staring dead at her, lividity growing in his eyes as a rock formed in his throat. She'd asked that with such innocence. And…it was a question that should have an innocent answer.

He gulped down his nerves and inhaled deeply, looking up at the fixture as a reluctant flow of nostalgia creeped its way around him. An image of her hair filled his view and an incomplete rendering of her smile. It pained him how much of his memory had been lost to time. But…the things that really mattered, he would never forget.

"She was…radiant," he eventually replied, holding back his tongue from speaking too much. "That…is the only word I can think of to describe her as."

A soft smile graced Amara's lips, seeming to be pleased by his choice of words.

"Mm…I believe it," she said, then tilted her head. "I've seen an etching of her once, but it was small and faded. I wonder, is this effigy meant to resemble her? Was she really so beautiful?"

Roldan blinked and his jaw locked. Why was he feeling so much anxiety again?

"She was…even more so," he admitted, unsure of why it felt wrong to do so. Broodiness was starting to overtake him, making him look down in a queer sense of shame. And it wasn't the words themselves that made him feel that way, but rather the fact that he was saying them to Amara. As if they would upset her or that she would judge him for it. Neither such thing happened, however. No, true to her character, Amara simply gazed longingly at the visage, her heart warmed by something Roldan had clearly missed.

"Wow," she said, so airily. "I wish I could have known her."

Roldan's brows furrowed and it felt like he was starting to shrink, the compulsion to escape building steadily within.

"...you would have liked her," he said, eyes trained anywhere but near her. "—And she you, I think. You share similar ideals —progressives in a horrifically stagnant world."

Someone unfamiliar with Roldan's disposition might think he was being derisive just then, but Amara somehow knew better. She smiled and looked over at him, her face filled with gratitude.

"You flatter me. To be compared to someone like her is…well, it's far more than I deserve," she replied, then gestured at the statue. "Just looking at this…I mean, look at the detail in it. It's almost lifelike. I can envision her elegance clearly just from this and I've no doubt she was a grand figure. This world has suffered a great loss without her."

Roldan spied on her discreetly, wanting to be suspicious of her sincerity but…was plainly unable to.

"Indeed," he replied, clipped.

Amara inhaled deeply, the look in her eye turning distant as she followed after her thoughts.

"I hope…well, I hope you don't take this as audacious, but…" and she turned that dreamy look over at him. "I hope that, once I become a true lordess, that I can one day exude that same elegance, or radiance as you put it, and bring pride to my borough. I don't know if I can improve the nation at large like she did, but I would at least like to help the people of our three districts—small as they may be." Then she looked up at the effigy again, her voice softening. "...I would very much like to become someone like her."

The twinge of discomfort that hit Roldan that time was too much for him to physically subdue. He looked away, crossing his arms tightly while concealing his glare from her. He wasn't sure why, but her comment angered him.

A moment of silence passed between them. Roldan collected his thoughts and then eventually grumbled, low and bitterly, "...you don't need to be like her."

Amara, still lost in daydreams, looked at him questioningly.

"Hm?" she prompted. Roldan rolled his eyes, his chest puffing up on a breath.

"Aurelia was…a myriad of noble adjectives, yes: soft spoken, graceful, and wise. She carried herself with dignity at all times and conveyed…a gentleness about her that extended to all those who were near," he said, unsure if he was rushing through that sentence or dragging it out. Either way, the knot in his chest twisted in a different way and he turned his angry expression to look her in the eye again. "You, on the other hand, are of a completely different vocabulary. You are loud, impulsive, and clumsy. And there is no calmness to speak of." His tone was stern, so it was easy to mistake it as a scolding. It actually made Amara gasp, but then...something in his eyes softened. "But…" and he paused to consider his words. "I think…you may be even more wise than she was." He saw her eyes widen in surprise, but he did not wait for her to reply. "You do not hide your thoughts or feelings and express yourself without shame. You say you've found freedom in that, that it's allowed you to live more happily. While Aurelia…was practically suffocated by restraint. She suffered greatly because of it."

He watched Amara blink, her mouth parted open as she processed what he was saying. She was noticeably on edge now, not wanting to misinterpret. Tentatively she said, "May I ask why?"

The pause following that question was heavy and Amara did not understand it. Roldan's eyes on her were intense, then he sharply turned them away from her.

"To put it simply?" he said, one corner of his mouth cracking in a nasty smirk. "Because the man she loved did not love her back. She worried about his impression of her so much that she hardly ever showed her true self. Even with…others."

He caught himself from saying something indecent at the end, his voice trailing off while his eyes anxiously shifted. Amara's mouth hung open once more as she observed. And then her eyes lowered in disillusionment, finally, finally picking up on the air in the room. Awkwardness crept in but she navigated it well. Her shoulders hunched and she shifted her body a fraction away from Roldan, thinking of the best thing to say in response.

"Oh…I see. I knew theirs was a political union, but I didn't realize…"

"That it was for pure convenience? Yes…for Jareth, at least," Roldan interjected, finishing her sentence for her. His words were cutting and acrid. They had Amara peering up at him worriedly. "Looking back, that may have been the real reason she was so invested in her ambitions for the kingdom. She had a vision, yes, but those projects also provided a decent distraction from her personal woes." Then he turned his head down to look at Amara directly, feeling sorry for the way her eyes had rounded and her mouth no longer smiled as she listened to him drudge on. And still he kept talking. "—she held back and accepted her lot because she did not know of any other way to exist. Always trying and trying and trying without ever changing anything that mattered. I like to think I knew her, but…never all of her. She was a woman filled with secrets—until the very end."

Amara watched the muscle in Roldan's jaw flex, revealing a deep pain that she was ashamed to not have noticed earlier. Her brows turned down in a frown, hoping that he would keep on talking. A deeper tension formed at the corner of Roldan's eye, shown to her in profile as he looked away from her again and gazed intently at Aurelia's visage. Memories cast themselves in that look, long, aching memories that tightened around Amara's own heart. And she thought that perhaps…she'd been insensitive by delving so deep into the past.

"She was an exemplary woman, yes," Roldan continued, firmly, some type of certitude coming over him. "But, your own grace…it doesn't come from the way you speak or present yourself. It doesn't even come from your accomplishments. It comes in the way you listen, your generosity, and in your patience with others. It's in your insight and the way you analyze the world. I can hear it well enough through your music alone." The anger once so palpable in his expression was no longer there when he looked down at her again, replaced instead by something she could not define. The glint in his eyes was still saddened and hurting, yet…she could have sworn a ghostly smile graced his lips. "You already bring pride to your borough, just as you are," he told her, the conviction in his gaze unyielding even as it lowered from her, sullenly. "So…carry on. You don't need to compare yourself to her, to anyone, or to wish for anything different. I am assured of that."

Amara stood still, without a blink or even a breath. The sentiment in his words had touched her so poignantly she couldn't even bring herself to respond. No one, save perhaps her late mother, had told her something so kind and encouraging and, frankly, she was not expecting to hear anything like it from Roldan. She did not view herself as anyone noteworthy, nor worth appraising to the degree that Roldan apparently had. Her heart swelled and heated her chest, a peculiar sensation tightening her own jaw firmly shut. She was so happy she wanted to cry, to throw her arms around him and thank him for his kindness and motivation. He was someone she looked up to, and yet there he spoke as if she was the remarkable one, as if she had done anything or even mattered at all. He would no longer look at her and she thought maybe it was because he was embarrassed. Oh, how endearing.

She licked her lips in preparation to speak. She even took a small step forward but, just as she began to open her mouth, did a fit of frustration suddenly get the better of him, compelling him to grimace and turn away.

Amara flinched back but suffered a delayed reaction as Roldan, without another word, just kept going and stormed out of the room entirely. Amara gaped and then sputtered into gear, catching her breath and hurriedly following after him.

"Huh? W-where are you going?" she called out to him, but he was already out of reach. Amara actually started scuttling to catch up to him, her boots catching on uneven stones in the floor while her guiding ball of light lagged behind. "Roldan?"

She saw him round a corner, entering a different burial chamber. Amara hurriedly entered after him, skidding to a stop after finding him standing idle in the center of the room. This one was larger, with more room to breathe. She thought maybe that's why he went there, judging by the way his chest moved. She approached him warily, wondering why he was so flustered all of the sudden.

"Roldan? What's wrong?" she asked, tilting her head to try and peer around him. He stood rigidly with his back to her, hands fisted and glaring down at the floor. She frowned to see him in such a way, coming to stand close to his side and then reached up to lightly grasp his arm. "Why did you leave like that?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

Roldan closed his eyes in a long blink, teeth gritting as he struggled to compose himself.

"I'm sorry," he said, in a near snap. Amara paused and withdrew her hand, recognizing the agitation in his posture. Roldan scowled deeper then shook his head. "The nostalgia…is just getting to me, I guess," he tried to explain, with little success. Then he inhaled sharply through the nose and averted his eyes. "I haven't been down here in a very long time."

He stopped speaking after that, feeling like a complete buffoon under the scrutiny of her confusion. He did his best to shield his pained expression from her, but she'd seen enough already. She looked at him long and hard, canniness softening her features as she took that small step forward again.

She raised her hand to touch him again tentatively, the tips of her fingers pressing to his sleeve so lightly that the touch was barely there. Roldan felt it acutely nonetheless. He only wished she would touch him harder. But even still, he was completely thrown when she said,

"I see…I think I understand now. It was her, wasn't it?"

Some deeply repressed trigger had Roldan's head snapping to her in an instant, his eyes fierce and guarded. Amara frowned deeply at the sight of his reaction. "What?" he asked, quick as a whip. Amara bit on the inside of her lip before replying.

"The other day…when we were talking about your feelings towards Sarah? You made the implication that you were comparing her to someone else and that it bothered you. That other person is Queen Aurelia, isn't it?" she asked. Roldan, in a display of shame, said nothing and lowered his head. Amara bit on her lower lip again. "You said your standards for what makes a good queen are high. You were careful with your words then, so please tell me if I'm wrong but…you gave the impression that you'd lost someone very dear to you and that your feelings for that person were convoluting your feelings for Sarah. I believe I'm understanding our conversation much better now. Queen Aurelia is your standard, isn't she? And…you were also in love with her back then…weren't you?"

Each word that came out of Amara's mouth was like a dagger in Roldan's chest. He felt the rise of panic and anger and upheaval move through him, but he kept it hidden. His initial reaction was to lash out, as he always did, but the recurring fact that the thing he'd kept most secret for over half of his life didn't seem to be a secret at all was enough to hamper those impulses. No, instead what he truly felt was pathetic. Guard himself all he may, only one or two vague exchanges was enough for Amara, who hardly knew him at all, to cut clean through him. He almost laughed, it was so absurd.

He let go of further reservations in an act of concession, his anxiety losing momentum as he closed his eyes and let out a shallow breath. There really was no point in denying it anymore, was there? Not with the way Amara's crystal clear eyes were piercing his stoic bravado like a spearhead. He was bitterly beside himself when he asked,

"Am I really that transparent?"

His mouth cracked in a grin while he spoke. It made Amara frown deeper.

"Yes," she said, her focus on him steadfast even as his eyes shifted to hers, the emotions he tried to keep hidden there plain as day to her. He looked on edge, maybe even offended, so she thought to explain herself. "Forgive me. I'm sorry if that was out of line. It's just…your expression just now…it's the same one my father makes whenever he's thinking of my mother," she said, taking a slow step towards him. Then she tilted her head and regarded him keenly. "My father loved my mother more than anything, even in death. He tried his best to keep his pain hidden from me, to be strong so I didn't have to be, but…denying your feelings for the sake of someone else's comfort isn't fair to anyone and it only makes things harder." She paused and looked down, licking her lips tentatively while pinching her fingers. "So…believe me, I know when someone is holding back. I know what grief and longing look like on a man." She finished speaking but Roldan remained silent. Then she glanced up sheepishly, careful with her tone as she asked, "Were you lovers?"

Roldan's brow furrowed deeply but he didn't turn away.

"No," he said, stolidly. "She was the most virtuous person I've ever known. Neither of us would have ever—"

He stopped at the first sign of passion rising in his voice, cutting himself off and grimacing to the side. He hated himself at that moment. Hated that he'd allowed himself to fall into this situation in the first place, again. Amara saw the frustration build on him in the silence and hummed pensively. Her eyes flicked down and she reached out to take his hand. He let her and she squeezed with both of hers, hoping to pass on her sympathy through touch.

"I'm sorry," she said, softly. "I'm sorry I brought it up and I'm sorry if bullying you into bringing me here has upset you."

Her sincerity was damn-near aggravating. Roldan closed his eyes and shook his head, his fingers flexing around hers before pulling free.

"No," he said. "It's no fault of yours."

The atmosphere threatened to become even more dour in the wake of that comment, but Amara was determined not to let that happen. She considered her response for a brief moment, then a light clicked. Her lips curled up, then she lifted her gaze back to his —warmed by affection.

"That's probably true," she replied, teasingly. Roldan peered at her to see one little eyebrow arching at him. "—you know, seeing how you could have just told me this entire place was still off limits or that the door was just plain locked?"

Her mouth cracked up in a smirk on one side, her pale eyes intrusive yet compassionate in their insight. He stared into them, amazed by how quickly his angst dispelled to trifles by such a small act of reassurance. An usual moment of self awareness took over him, during which he could only roll his eyes while an incredulous smile spread across his face. Ah, she had him there, didn't she? Perhaps he was imbuing the situation with more drama than necessary. While the deflection was appreciated, the abrupt shift in mood was enough to make him finally laugh in exasperation.

"Heh, yes," he said. "I suppose I could have."

His eyes rolled back down to hers and the contact made was everything she hoped it would be. There was a tiredness about him but also amity. His smile, though faint, was genuine. He did not shy away from her and she was pleased to have pulled him out of morose. Roldan meanwhile…just could not stop staring.

It was funny. This, right now, this small moment was exactly what he'd been talking about. Despite the ghosts and the gloom, grace practically flowed from her. It enveloped her. And it lifted him up with her. He felt…at peace caught in her stare. And the unease and trepidation and heartache had all but fled by the slightest touch of her hand. It made him feel a little silly, really. Like he had no real reason at all to feel bothered, sad, or secretive in the first place.

He didn't know how much time passed as he admired her, but eventually she looked down, toying with a thought as she looked at her hands stroking his knuckles. He was content to watch her. Then she hesitantly asked, "Would you…go back inside with me, for a moment?"

She looked up again and he could see the uncertainty in her eyes. His own brows knitted tightly, but he nodded. Amara stepped back, keeping hold of his hand to bring him with her. His gloved fingers regained life and clutched hers firmly, his eyes never straying from her as she turned around and led them away.

They walked silently back to Aurelia's chamber, Roldan's curiosity and wariness growing with each quiet second. Amara brought them to stand before the sepulcher again, saying nothing to him at all. Instead she released his hand and steepled her own, calmly closing her eyes.

Roldan stood awkwardly beside her, then asked what she was doing.

Amara took a deep inhale through the nose. Her eyes remained closed.

"I'm paying my respects," she replied. "That's what I came here for, remember?"

Roldan did not reply, feeling at sea in more ways than one. He simply looked away from her, regarding the lifeless work of stone in a way that felt…easier than before. And then Amara started speaking again.

"Almighty Alvra, we beseech you. Please hear our prayers and request. We ask that you care for the souls of our departed ones, that they may rejoin us in our magic and carry on through us in the lifestream—"

Roldan twitched and looked at her confusedly.

"What kind of prayer is that?" he asked.

Amara paused and opened her eyes, peering up at him.

"Oh. …it's Alvari," she said, with what seemed like a modicum of embarrassment. "I prefer their teachings and the people are more kind. Would…you rather I used a Fendr'al prayer?"

"I have no preference," Roldan replied. Amara nodded and looked forward again, closing her eyes and carrying on. He continued to watch her with intrigue.

"For this woman, Aurelia, we ask that you pull her from the ephemeral pool and rouse her with soft whispers, give her a moment to hear from those who are left behind. Please, Alvra, let her know that she is remembered, that she is admired, that she is loved, and that she is missed. Care for her, great Alvra, and her child. Care for them in the unending realm as they are cared for even now, by those who remember and continue to speak her name…"

Roldan's gaze lowered a fraction as Amara spoke. It was at times like this when he wished he believed in more than nothingness. While he believed in the power of nature, Alvra was a personification and nothing more. He knew the Alvari believed a soul may still retain some consciousness after death, but the Fendr'al school by which he was raised did not. Once a fae died, they died. Their magic essence returned to nature to be recycled into new life. As kind and heartfelt as Amara's words were, they would never reach Aurelia. She was just gone.

But even still, her focus and her sentiment affected him. He was grateful to her and, in some small measure of respect, chose to close his eyes and try to participate.

"We praise Alvra, always and unending," Amara continued, her words repeated silently in Roldan's mind. "And thank her for the good will we have been given, for the happy memories that we foster, and for the feelings and people we hold most dear. May she, the mother of Nature, welcome us with open arms, onward and on, unto oblivion."

She opened her eyes gradually when she was finished, letting out a gentle sigh before looking up at Roldan with a smile. "There," she said, right as rain. "I believe she will hear us. Do you?"

Roldan gave her a long look.

"...I want to," he replied. She sensed reluctance in him and her smile humbled. It was clear he lacked faith, but that was fine. Alvra would read his heart regardless.

"That's all I can ask," she said, then offered out her hand to him, angling her feet towards the doorway. "Shall we head back now?" she asked.

Roldan glanced down at her open palm, so small and slender, yet strong with confidence. He blinked at it and the smallest smile graced his lips. Then, taking her hand, he turned his back on the cold, lifeless rendering of his past that loomed over them, choosing to follow her instead, to follow her blindly, and leave the darkness behind.

---

The ride back to the stables was surprisingly normal. They chatted and carried on aimlessly, Amara's giggles and natural effervescence compensating for Roldan's more quiet state of introspection. It was an odd thing. To feel so…calm. He found his mind wandering away from their conversations repeatedly, but to no real place. He was just processing. That was now the second time he'd admitted his feelings for Aurelia and the result had not been catastrophic. For so many years he worried over what the fallout might be, should his shame ever be revealed, but…there was just….nothing. Both with Sarah and Amara. They had accepted him. Comforted him. Even justified him. He couldn't fully comprehend it —the way Amara had just smiled away his greatest shame, without questions or discomfort. A small part of him felt restless still, having been preparing to explain himself in a manner akin to slowly cleaving a knife out of his chest. But he didn't have to. Whether she was curious or not, she didn't ask for details, which was perhaps the most curious thing of all. Her patience and empathy seemed to be enough for the both of them. So he listened instead, letting his ears be filled with the gentle tone of her voice as it guided him towards a more tranquil state of mind.

Maybe he would tell her more one day, he even caught himself thinking. Maybe he would prompt it all on his own. Maybe…he would want to.

With a small amount of help from Amara, the horses were put away and the two traveled back to the castle. From her perspective, Roldan seemed more mechanical than usual and the silence between them was heady. She worried that she'd upset him more than she realized, her nerves increasing with every wordless step they took. They walked side by side down the hall, but she had no clue of where they were going. Needing to do something about the tension, she stopped dead and addressed him.

"Um…I'm going to change into something more appropriate before I meet with Sarah," she said, glossing over her dirty trousers and boots, then looked up at his face again. "Before we part ways…would you escort me back to my room?"

Her voice held its usual sweetness. Roldan nodded. His silent response didn't exactly assuage Amara's worry, but she held a cheerful front nonetheless. She smiled and took his arm, locking elbows the whole way back.

But, unfortunately, the walk was not nearly long enough.

They reached her bedroom door before she knew it, putting her in another awkward position. She stood before it for a moment, eyeing him shrewdly from her peripheral as indecision threatened to give her the jitters. She released his arm and stepped forward, licking her lips while opening the door just a crack. Roldan watched her fidgety mannerisms, wondering what was bothering her. She stood deathly still for a long second, then turned around swiftly on her heel.

He didn't realize what had happened before it was too late, leaving himself stunned and stupid as that one, brief moment slowed down to an agonizing pace. Amara leaned down from her toes slowly, the kiss she'd impulsively pressed to his cheek tingling the skin. Her breath flushed across his cheek while her hands had pressed to his chest to steady herself, widening his eyes and utterly petrifying him. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes afterwards, her hands lowering to then clasp tightly behind her back as she drew in her nervous lower lip and bit it. And, if he was anything less than stunned, he would have grabbed hold of that meek little frame and ravaged her to pieces.

"Thank you, by the way," she said, teetering on her toes. Roldan was expectedly silent. She looked down and smiled bashfully at the floor. "What you said earlier…about my own form of elegance? It…it means the world to me." She stole a fleeting glance then looked down again, her cheeks reddening. "Please know, to have your confidence is not something that I shall ever take for granted, Roldan. Not ever. And….if you ever want to talk or visit Queen Aurelia's grave again, I'd be more than happy to accompany you." Then she reached out and lightly hooked an index finger around one of his. "So…don't let yourself get so lonely again. Okay?"

She looked up but not directly. If she had, she would probably be frightened by the avidity of his stare on her. It was scorching and he knew it. He could feel it heating his own eyes. He wanted to say something, do something, anything other than act like the total idiot that he was. But he was reeling. Utterly reeling.

She'd kissed him. Her mouth, her soft, supple, perfectly shaped mouth had touched his skin. Her lips were mere inches from his own. Her scent was sweet. The loveliest, most saccharine thing…

While normally Roldan's stoicism did not phase her, presently it was making Amara embarrassed. She wasn't sure how to read it, so she darted her eyes around and stepped back, sucking in her lips nervously.

"I guess I'll…see you in a bit then?" she said, finally giving in to search his face. Beyond a rather harsh stare, he gave nothing away. But even that she found cute. Whether or not the situation called for it, she cracked a smile and giggled at him, finding some satisfying answer wordlessly lurking within the shroud of his half stunned, half angered expression. And then, all too quickly, she left him there, all alone, when coyly slipping into her room.

---

The door closed and Roldan stood, her sudden absence slowly giving back his agency. He took a step away from the door and turned, but paused. His heart and mind were both racing, but he didn't know what the feelings were. There were just too many.

Trying not to think of it, he began to walk briskly down the hall, away from her and that place and the entire morning itself, shaking his head clear and reminding himself that he had a job to do. Responsibilities to see to. He couldn't afford to get swept up like some adolescent and it was stupid to let himself in the first place. He was a grown man, for gods' sake. A grown ass man made utterly flustered and powerless by a little, bubbly bulldozer of a girl who could somehow simultaneously care about everything and nothing all at once—

He paused again, halting mid-step in the center of the hall. His chest was tight and his blood was hot, the only thing on his mind being the feel of her lips and the smell of her skin. He was in pain, such excruciating pain, but he didn't even know what was hurting him anymore or how to fix it. He just wanted to touch her —to speak, to thank her, kiss her back. He wanted to give her as much as she'd given and be more than a miserable, surly old stump. But he couldn't fathom being what he envisioned: someone she might actually want to be with, someone who could make her happy beyond eliciting the occasional giggle. He was too sour, too stubborn, too tawdry. And she was kind. She was just too kind. A kiss on the cheek probably meant something completely different to her than it did him. She was just being gracious, compassionate, friendly. Yes, that made much more sense. It was just all in his head, like always —completely out of reach. His utter existence in that moment made him want to claw his hair out and scream.

But of course, he did none of those things —because he was also a creature suffocated by restraint. So instead he closed his eyes. He allowed himself one moment to run a hand over his face then aggressively through his hair as he willed himself to settle the fuck down. Because that was his lot. Because that was who he was. Because no matter how hard he tried, nothing that mattered could ever be changed.

With a sharp inhale, he shook his head clear and reopened his eyes, roughly composing himself —just enough to keep on walking.

---

Sarah let out a ragged breath as she and Andeas walked down the long stretch of hall together. Though her eyes were closed, her head angled up at the ceiling, fully lamenting the lingering ache in her stomach. Thanks to the clock she'd eyed in Andeas's office a short while ago, she knew it was nearly 9 am and, while that wasn't exactly early, she felt like she was dragging herself along at the mere crack of dawn. Her eyes felt almost as heavy as her limbs, fatigue weighing her feet like ten-ton bricks. Andeas had assured her that was normal, but it didn't lessen her frustration any. They all had a longggg few days ahead of them and she'd gone to bed extra early the night before for a reason. But, naturally, it seemed like all the careful planning in the world wouldn't count for shit, in her current state. Her body just did not want to cooperate —the rambunctious half fae inside her stealing all her energy like the spoiled little thing it would most assuredly be.

Alas, only 6 more months to go.

She sighed again and opened her eyes, wishing, so so wishing, that someone would just give her a fucking coffee already.

"Something bothering you?" Andeas asked. Sarah peered at him, her expression not very nice. Thankfully, it was one the good doctor was well familiar with. He remained unfazed by it when he added the observation, "You're doing an awful lot of sighing."

Sarah stared at him a moment longer then looked ahead, the hand now habitually placed to her stomach rubbing it firmly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just…really freaking tired," she said, with a long blink. Andeas frowned in sympathy.

"I know. It's poor timing that you have to travel so far during this stage, but I'm sure Jareth has prepared the best possible accommodations for you," he said, little to Sarah's satisfaction. Fighting off a blip of unprompted irritation, she curled her lip and slanted her eyes to the side.

"Yeah, I'm sure he has. Doesn't change the fact that I feel like crap." Bitterness carried itself openly in her speech, but that didn't mean anything. Everyone in the castle, from glitter-doused sovereigns to sentient doorknobs alike, knew full well that the Queen's mood swings had finally kicked in.

Andeas's eyes flicked down then up as he contemplated the best way to help her.

"Is the medicine I gave you not helping your nausea?" he asked. Sarah shrugged.

"It's helping some. I haven't actually thrown up in a couple of days," she said, then another sigh. "But it doesn't seem to have much of an effect on that sour feeling. I feel so bloated and gross that I kind of wish I would throw up." She glanced out a window as they passed by, eyeing the harsh morning light and some odd critter that randomly flew in and out of view. The gust of air that swept over them felt warm. It looked like a nice day outside. She hated it. And then she grumbled, "I am so not looking forward to that carriage ride…"

"Well…at least you'll have plenty of time to rest."

There was trace awkwardness in Andeas's comment. It made Sarah realize that all her grumpiness was probably putting him in a tough spot. She'd gone to his office that morning in beseech of more Tums. Apparently heartburn was just as enthusiastic as morning sickness for budding mothers and, after just a few days, she was already running low. Andeas had advised her not to treat them like candy, but what else could she do? If it wasn't her stomach, it was her chest. And if it was neither of those then it was mood swings and narcolepsy. This pregnancy business was bullshit and she was one more deep sigh away from letting the whole damn kingdom know about it.

"Yeah…we'll see how that goes, I guess," she mumbled, scowling at the floor.

Andeas took the opportunity to switch topics.

"Quite. Speaking of, where are we going now, exactly?" he asked. Sarah glanced up at him. His expression was chipper. "I'm still not entirely familiar with the castle's layout. I think it changes, actually…but regardless. I assume we're going to meet up with everyone else, right?"

"Yeah. Jareth said to meet by the gates around nine, so I figure he meant the Grand Hall," Sarah replied. Andeas nodded.

"Right. Are we anywhere close to that?" he asked. Sarah pursed her lips.

"Yeah. We're on the ninth floor now, but that doesn't matter. Physics don't always apply here, for some reason. We'll take this stairwell up ahead and then it's right around the corner."

Andeas looked ahead at the opening of said stairwell at the end of the hall, one eyebrow arching. "Hm…" he said. "How peculiar."

True to word, after descending one flight of stairs, the two found themselves entering the ground floor of the castle. Sarah had long since gotten used to such anomalies, but Andeas found it all very interesting. He hadn't spent much time in the Goblin Castle, even before his venture to the Above, but he knew even then what a unique place it was.

The hall they now trekked would soon form an intersection with the Grand Hall, the place that, for all its impressive architecture, served as little more than a foyer for the castle's main entrance. As they rounded the aforementioned corner, portions of the pillars that framed the hall's opening came into view —along with a couple of familiar fae loitering patiently beside them.

Mariella caught wind of their approach and turned their way, smiling widely at the sight of them.

"Oh look! Master Roldan, it's Sarah and Johnathan. Yoo-hoo!"

She waved like a giddy school girl as the two of them joined the group. Roldan, standing like a board with his arms crossed as usual, greeted them with little more than a side eye.

"Good morning," Marie said to them both. Andeas dipped his head.

"Good morning, my lady," he replied, matching her energy. Sarah scowled.

"Morning," she said, with all the crankiness of a junkyard goblin. Mariella snickered.

"Oh, Sarah. You look so tired. How did you sleep?" she asked. Not wanting a well-intentioned interrogation, Sarah did her best to will away the dark circles that she was sure were under her eyes.

"Ah…alright. I tossed and turned a bit," she said, scratching the back of her head. Then she peered around and back at Marie, eager to change the subject. "Where's Amara?" she asked.

Marie's brows lifted. Roldan's hands tightened.

"Oh! I went to fetch her on my way down, but she was still getting ready. Couldn't decide on what to wear, it seems," Marie explained, way, way too lively for Sarah's present liking. Sarah slowly blinked, her returning smile strained.

"Oh. Okay. That's fine. Jareth isn't here yet anyway, so there's still time." She yawned at the end, absently moving to lean back against the nearest pillar. Marie's expression softened as she watched her.

"So I've noticed. Where is His Majesty? It's not like him to dawdle. He's always so prompt," she said. Sarah, with her eyes still closed, shrugged.

"Who knows. I think he's checking on one of his projects, but I didn't really ask—" another yawn. "—too tired."

And, before another word could be uttered, did Amara come a-dashing around the corner.

All eyes turned to her, reflexes sparked by the sudden movement. And she really was dashing, holding her skirt above her ankles with both hands as she hustled. That unladylike behavior died instantly, however, as soon as she spotted them staring at her. She skidded to a halt and completed the rest of the journey properly.

"Oh—good morning, everyone!" she said, minimizing her huffing and puffing as best as she could. Her hair was in disarray, promptly tucked behind her ears. "Queen Sarah, Lady Marie, Dr Andrews, Roldan—" she said in quick succession, dipping her head to Sarah while shooting beaming smiles at the rest. Roldan averted his eyes and tensed. Andeas returned her good cheer and bowed to her.

"Good morning, Lordess. In a hurry, were you?" Andeas asked, teasingly. Amara, still working on taming labored breaths, stood straight and smoothed out her dress.

"Heh, yes. I apologize for my fluster. I was worried I'd be late," she said, smiling and re-tucking her hair. She'd entered from the opposite end of the hall as Sarah and Andeas, and so stood directly beside Roldan, facing them. Despite their proximity, she hadn't acknowledged him more than that introductory glance, which had his attention on her heightening all the more.

"Did you oversleep or something?" Sarah asked. A faint blush appeared on Amara's cheeks, but it was something only Marie seemed to notice.

"Hm? Oh. Um, no. No, I woke up pretty early today, actually," she said. Then, because that spritely young maid really did not possess any shame or discretion at all, starting blabbering on allll about Roldan's most current internal crisis. "I have a tendency to rise with the sun —courtesy of all the chores I would do at home. No one else seems to wake up that early here, though, so I thought I'd have myself a quiet little breakfast out on the terrace. Then, as luck would have it, I ran into Roldan again—" She giggled happily and gave him a rather flirty side eye. Roldan's entire body locked up, but he wasn't sure if it was because of her stare or everyone else's. Amara looked away from him quickly and prattled on. "Turns out he was up and ready too, getting everyone's things sorted for the goblins to load in the caravan. He's so diligent, isn't he?" she asked the rest of them, waving a hand like it was just the cutest thing. Sarah and Marie shared awkward glances. "Anyway, I was going to ask if he'd like to join me for breakfast, but that seemed too parallel to dinner, so instead I offered my help. He very quickly refused though—" She peered at Roldan again, her smirk teasing and mischievous. And, oh, how he wanted to just die then and there. "Sooo we ended up compromising on another riding lesson!" She laughed and clapped her hands together, existing in a state of complete obliviousness as the other two women trained their shrewd attentions on one very transparent Roldan, who was now utterly broiling in panic against his pillar. Sarah arched a brow at him, though her response was directed towards Amara.

"Oh? Another lesson?" she asked. Roldan kept his eyes strictly averted from hers —so studiously that Sarah had no doubt he was sweating beneath that tight collar of his. Amara bounced on her toes and gasped.

"Yes! He's just so generous, isn't he?!" she asked. Mariella did everything she could not to burst out laughing. Amara went on with a sigh. "Ah…the woods were so beautiful this morning, too. Oh, and we didn't have any more trouble like last time. No, no. Maelyn and I are right friends now, I'd say. I think I'm catching on pretty well!"

A smirk had stretched along Sarah's face at some point, practically twitching with the urge to tease Roldan into an early grave —but that could wait, at least for another minute. From her peripheral, she could see the poor man was on the verge of a stroke, which had her wondering what exactly it was that he was so direly hoping Amara would not say about their trip together.

"Unfortunately my outfit got a bit dirty, so I hurried in to change before meeting you here," Amara continued, then looked at Marie. "I'm sorry I couldn't join you earlier. I suddenly hated all of my gowns and fell into a bit of a panic." She smiled apologetically, which contrasted to the warm affection in Marie's.

"It's alright. We need not be joined at the hip," she replied, then peered over at Roldan one more time. "But it sounds like you had some fun. I'm glad to see you're taking Master Roldan's thoughtful instruction so well." Then her eyes slanted to Sarah, slyly. "Our queen over here had a much tougher time of it."

Roldan's hands tightened over his crossed arms, his subtle glare on Marie sending little dangers through the ether. If she felt them, however, they registered as no more than tickles. She actually snickered because of it, although no one realized it was in mockery of him.

Sarah's brows lifted in offense.

"Hey—that was as much his fault as it was mine," she retorted, looking a tad miffed. "It's hard to learn from someone who doesn't want to teach in the first place. I did my best. Everything's worked out fine so far, right?" She crossed her arms petulantly then leaned up from the pillar to look around Marie, at Roldan. She caught his gaze and added, "On that note, I wanted to ask that the study guide you made me be put in our cabin, not in cargo. I want to keep going over it on the way there."

Her directness took some of the edge off the tension Roldan was feeling. His jaw loosened up as he held her gaze.

"That's good, considering I had expected it," he said, with condescension. Sarah frowned at him. "I've already separated your reading materials from the rest of your luggage. Hopefully the goblins can manage the rest."

He sounded extra snappy when saying that. Sarah narrowed her eyes on him, taking note of all his subtle fidgeting and flared up nostrils, and thought it would be such a royal waste to let him get away with that sour attitude. She kept her eyes trained strictly on him when she asked, with some obnoxiousness, "Is he this grumpy when he's alone with you, Amara?"

Amara perked up and looked between the two of them.

"Hm? No. I don't think so," she replied, with such naivety. "He's actually very kind. I mean, his speech can be curt, but I don't think he really means it that way, right?" And she turned her head to shoot that open, condemning expression of hers dead at him, then added, "You're always so considerate and patient, an excellent instructor, in my opinion." She smiled heartily but her good humor did not fit the situation at all. Roldan just stood there, like a brick wall, trying to be as unreadable as possible. Sarah's pursed lips pursed harder as she analyzed him. There was knowing in the way their gazes crossed, as brief of a moment as it was, and it seemed that he was in actuality less grumpy and more flustered. Then one of her brows arched.

Oh?

Well this could be interesting.

Was there perhaps more stock to her initial suspicions than she'd realized? Could that sunny little hand holding scene she'd walked in on the other day have been more than just a hilariously mortifying anomaly?

Roldan couldn't possibly be genuinely crushing on Amara, could he?

Hmm…He'd taken her out for two riding lessons. TWO. Or, as Sarah then decided, two apparently riveting and super cute *DaTeS*.

A sly little grin tugged at the corners of Sarah's lips, just barely able to hold herself back from evolving into Mariella and freaking the fuck out.

"Uh huh. I bet he is," Sarah said, suggestively, and successfully elicited a terrified twitch from Roldan. Sarah huffed in amusement and, satisfied with the torture she was now certain she was putting him through, leaned back against the pillar again. "Well, better you than me. You're probably a much better student than I'll ever be, so have at it," she added, waving a hand through the air dismissively, then paused for one poignant second. "That said—I hope you'll tell me if he starts giving you any trouble. I'd have to make it my business if he was as mean to you as he is the rest of us."

An ominous undertone lurked in those words, carried on that same intangible path from her to Roldan. The sense of authority he regarded from her was an uncanny reflection of Jareth, as was the subtext so expertly laced between a rather candid sentence. Warnings were not something he'd often received from Sarah. Jareth, absolutely, but not her. The fact that she seemed to be watching him more carefully now was also worrisome. Thank gods Amara didn't know any better.

"Oh. Well, okay," Amara replied, picking up on only a small hint of the weight in the air. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I assure you I can handle myself well, Queen Sarah." Then she looked over at Roldan again, her gaze harboring an edge of its own. "Besides, Roldan and I have an understanding, don't we?" Then she looked at Sarah, her grin as persnickety as ever. "If he's ever mean to me, I'll simply be mean right back!"

Amara giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. Sarah just blinked, thinking that, if anyone could handle a temper like Roldan's, it would probably be her. She spied on him again, curiously that time, wondering just how seriously she should take the matter. Roldan was doing his damned-well best to just dissipate into the wall, but that wasn't exactly out of character for him. Nothing against Amara, but it was hard to believe that he was even capable of developing feelings for someone at all, given his hangups with Aurelia. So…maybe he was just embarrassed from all the teasing? Was he angry by the presumption? Should…she have an actual talk with him about it? Or was that not her place?

And then there was Amara, who was so good-natured it was impossible to tell if her flirting and compliments were innocent or genuine. Regardless, her only real concern was for Amara's well being. She didn't want to see the girl hurt and it was frighteningly easy to imagine Roldan doing just that. She really didn't know how to proceed with those suspicions and thought…maybe it would be best to just ignore for now. If there really was something going on between them, even if it was frivolous or one-sided, she didn't want to be the reason it ended prematurely. He was obviously smitten with Amara in some capacity, at least enough to humor her, so…she decided to just keep an eye on things for now and probe Marie's brain about it later.

Getting back on track, Sarah finally responded to Amara's comment.

"Heh, I have a hard time believing you can be mean," she said, averting her eyes. Mariella smirked and joined in.

"Oh, I agree. You're just the sweetest thing, Amara. Surely, you jest?"

Amara turned her nose up proudly.

"I know I may seem all peaches and cream, Lady Marie, but I assure you, I can be quite nasty when needed," she replied, hands on hip. Mariella's smirk widened. Her strong akimbo stance did very little to lessen the impression of all the bows and lace decorating her peony-pink dress. Nonetheless, Mariella held back, not wanting to upset her by calling the bluff.

"Duly noted," she said, with a nod.

And, just when the atmosphere began to relax, Roldan finally decided to speak — and quite offhandedly at that.

"Sarah," he said, stated, decreed even, by the low, serious tone of his voice.

Sarah leaned up again and looked over at him expectantly.

"When exactly will your husband see fit to grace us with his presence?" he asked, impatiently. Sarah blinked. Roldan tried not to sigh. "—or are the lot of us to wait around in this hallway all day?"

He definitely sounded grumpy that time, unquestioningly. Sarah frowned but wisely chose not to snap back. He was looking exceedingly uncomfortable now and she figured she was now getting what she'd asked for.

"I don't know when he'll be here," she answered, plainly. "He told me he wouldn't be long when he left this morning." Then she rolled her head towards Andeas. "I thought he would be with you, actually. Do you know where he is?"

Andeas, standing to the side of Sarah, looked visibly put on the spot after being excluded from the previous conversation.

"Hm? No. No, I haven't seen him at all today," he said. Sarah leaned forward and looked around Marie, at Roldan, again.

"Do you know where he is?" she asked.

Roldan, finally letting out the deep sigh he'd been restraining, eased up and ceased gripping his arms.

"He said something last night about some charm, but I don't know for sure," he said. Sarah arched a brow.

"Oh? Is he making another protection charm?" she asked. Roldan shrugged.

"I don't know. I don't see why he would be, though. The one you have now is strong enough to stave off a meteor strike."

He looked away from her casually, which had Sarah wondering if not hoping that had been hyperbole. Regardless, the question remained, where the heck was Jareth? She pondered the possibilities while Mariella took the mic, looking around her to address Andeas.

"Oh, how mysterious. Has His Majesty mentioned anything about a charm to you, Johnathan?" she asked. Andeas averted his eyes as he thought back but wasn't confident in his response.

"Not about a charm, per say," he said, wincing slightly, then glanced at Sarah. "But he did ask if I knew of any external means to conceal your scent. Perhaps it has something to do with that?"

Sarah stared at Andeas confusedly, her head cocked n' everything.

"My scent?" she repeated. "But I thought I wasn't supposed to cover up my scent?"

"Restrain," Roldan corrected. Everyone turned to look at him. "You're not supposed to restrain your scent, as it places too much stress on the body while carrying. It's a completely different thing than concealment."

Sarah's frown held steadfast as Roldan explained, then Andeas piped in.

"That is very true. And also tricky, from what I've heard. I believe he was looking for something a bit more elegant than an air freshener," he said. Sarah's brow furrowed deeper.

"So…do you know of something? Is that what he's making? What did you tell him?" Sarah asked. Of course, she'd heard Jareth mention how inopportune the scheduling of all this was and knew that he was concerned about news of her condition getting out so soon —but that was it. The matter had died before ever becoming a real conversation and she hadn't thought twice about it. But, was this something he'd been working on all along? The reason he'd been detained so late all week? And why did it matter so much anyway? Was…her scent a larger concern than she'd realized? Wasn't she supposed to be taking pride in it?

Andeas placed a hand to his hip, mouth pursed in thought.

"I did not have much to tell him, unfortunately," he said, to her disappointment. "My focus has been Aboveground medicine, so I'm not thoroughly versed in those kinds of things —where magic is concerned. With that said, His Majesty is an excellent spell crafter. Maybe he's been inventing something new?"

Then Amara clapped her hands excitedly.

"Ooh, now wouldn't that be something?" she said, her eyes brightening as her fingers restlessly tapped. "I would just love to inspect one of His Majesty's original creations one day. I like to think I'm a pretty quick learner, but I'm awful when it comes to creating my own spells. The ring you're wearing is one such item, isn't it, Sarah? I can feel His Majesty's signature on it. Such an intriguing charm that is and, just as Roldan said, is so very powerful too." Her expression took on an air of amazement as she looked to the heavens, close to running away with her thoughts. "I am always in such awe of his skills. It makes me so proud to be serving here!"

Sarah waited for Roldan to say something crass, knocking Jareth's mystique down a peg —but he didn't. In fact, everyone seemed to be in total agreement with Amara. Not that she disagreed, but it made Sarah feel close to the odd woman out. She just didn't have the same scope of understanding as them when it came to such things. She glanced down at the ring permanently fixed to her finger and rubbed it with her thumb. Maybe it was special in more ways than one.

The conversation turned cursory after that, the girls using mindless chatter to fill what would otherwise become an awkward silence with Roldan and the still unfamiliar Andeas at their sides. Still, at least the good doctor was spirited and showed interest in getting to know them. Roldan meanwhile…well…

Marie and Amara were busy giggling to each other over some banal joke that really was not that funny, which was a sound that had Roldan rolling his eyes. He turned his head away and adjusted his crossed arms as he leaned back against the pillar, a frustrated motion which caught Mariella's eye and had her leaning around Amara to address him. Her left brow arched impishly.

"Oh, is our girlish chatter boring you, Master Roldan?" she asked. Roldan slanted his eyes in her direction.

"Slightly," he replied, gruff.

Mariella snickered in response but whatever she found funny went well over Amara's head. The redheaded fae turned to face Roldan looking oh-so-concerned.

"Oh. Really?" she asked, raising a hand to cover her mouth. "I'm sor—"

But then Mariella waved her off.

"Nonsense. Don't believe a thing he says, Amara," she said, lightly shaking her head while killing Amara's apology dead. Amara began to lower her hand, but the wrinkle in her brow remained. "We can't be bothering him too badly or he would have left long ago. No one is forcing him to stand beside us and listen, are they?" she asked, and only Roldan gleaned the subtext woven perfectly through such a cheerful tone. Mariella peered over at him and their gazes locked above poor Amara's head, the challenge there as transparent as glass. After a moment, she smiled again and focused on Amara. "I think he's just getting a little impatient," she said, leaning down to be closer to her. "You can tell by the curl in his lip, there. See?"

Mariella pointed a well-manicured finger at Roldan, which Amara's eager gaze deftly followed. He visibly stiffened once her wide eyes hit him, whatever expression he was making steeling into place. Amara drank him in with genuine inquisitiveness, her eyes darting all around his disgruntled looking face.

Indeed, there was a curl in his lip. And a firm frown. Without Mariella's intuition, she might have actually thought he was irritated with them. Thank goodness.

"Oh, yes. I think I do. What relief—" she said, but was interrupted when her subject suddenly scoffed. He looked away from them again sharply, his crossed arms tightening further.

"Yes, yes, you're mocking me," he said in annoyance. "Do let me know when you're finished."

Amara blinked, about to protest that she wasn't mocking him at all —but Mariella was having too much fun.

"Indeed, I shall," Marie smugly replied, nose turning up. All attention shifted to her as she leaned in close to Amara again. "You see, Amara, I've learned a new term from the Aboveground recently. Sarah here has told me that Master Roldan is what the Abovegroundians might call a closet masochis—"

Mariella's ending T was slain in an instant by Roldan's positively cutting glare that shot at her just then. Mariella paused and held eye contact with her mouth hanging open, the corners steadily curling up and up just as Sarah covered her mouth to muffle the impulsive laugh that burst out of her. Amara, meanwhile, started looking between them, all kinds of confused.

"A what?" she asked, frizzy head bobbing from left to right. "Did you say Masochist? I don't understand. I thought you were a Goblin native?" She turned that question to Roldan who, predictably, said absolutely nothing. That didn't help Amara's confusion any. She frowned at him and turned back to Sarah and Marie. "And what does a closet have to do with anything?" And another quick look at Roldan. "Were you actually born in the Isles, Roldan?"

Roldan's jaw tightened, all but ignoring Amara's questions as he glared at Mariella. The nymph had the audacity to be openly enjoying the miscommunication, the grin on her face akin to the fae bastard whom she used to serve. He felt the desire to chastise her. She was supposed to be influencing them with her elegance and tact, subverting such mischief and crass, not the other way around.

If someone like Mariella could be corrupted by Sarah's vulgarity, then what chance did sweet Amara stand? He worried for her innocence when finally looking down at her. She'd asked him a question, yes? Her eyes waited on his response with a shimmer.

He resented the stoniness in his posture when he tersely replied, "...no."

Amara repeatedly blinked. What in the world was going on? Did masochist mean something different in the Aboveground? Even Dr Andrews looked like he was holding back a smile. She was about to ask what exactly she was missing when the sound of a door thudding shut suddenly resonated from down the hall.

All five heads turned reflexively.

"What was that?" Sarah asked. Roldan, equally curious, straightened from the wall and lowered his arms. Maybe Jareth was finally ready to join them, he thought. But then—

"Ah…" Roldan muttered as a familiar presence passed over him. His previous annoyance fled in favor of something worse and he abruptly groaned low and to himself. "Of course. Fucking hell…"

Amara drew back, pretty sure she'd just heard him curse under his breath. Indeed, she sensed someone new and wondered who it could be but, better yet, why was Roldan now thoroughly exasperated?

"Roldan, what's—"

And then Mariella jumped forward with glee.

"Ah! Wait, what? Is that really who I think it is?" she called out. Sarah, Amara, and Andeas all drew back in the wake of her fervor.

"Huh? Who is it, Marie?" Sarah asked. Mariella, seemingly in a whole other world, bounced up on her toes and gasped.

"Well, who do you think?" she replied. "Lord Davion!"

Amara's brows remained scrunched, observing the way Sarah's lifted high and then following Marie and Roldan's line of sight towards the mouth of the hall. A moment later, a man she had yet to meet appeared from around an adjacent corridor. Mariella distracted her with shrill "eeps!" of excitement, clapping her hands together before dashing off to meet the man halfway.

The blond stranger looked ahead and smiled when he saw them, or rather, saw Marie. And, by the uncanny shape of that wide grin, Amara knew without a doubt that he must be that Davion —crowned prince and only living relative to the king.

She stood herself straighter and got in line behind Sarah, practicing her introduction in her head quickly and with panic, as he stopped and greeted Mariella first.

"Lord Davion! My word, it really is you! Oh, what a grand surprise!" Marie squealed, coming to a halt right in front of him and boldly reaching out to grasp him by the arms as if to steady herself. Amara had never seen her so excited. She peered up at Sarah next to find her making a confused frown that was almost as deep as Roldan's. Finding all that beyond interesting, she kept herself as small as possible and observed the following interactions closely.

True to reputation, the goblin prince was flamboyantly decorated head to toe, dressed in a white shirt with a shiny red and black brocade waistcoat. His hair was very long and pulled back in a casual ponytail that tapered to the very base of his back. He wore irregularly shaped beads in various forms about his body: earrings, a hair bobble, tassels hanging from his belt, and even a bracelet —which was accentuated by his rolled up sleeves and the metal arm bands leading up to his biceps. Amara found it all to be rather regal-looking, as befitted him. Sarah, however, arched a sharp brow as she regarded the same imagery. From her perspective, his outfit was a bit too casual for her liking. A bit too suspicious.

Davion laughed heartily and raised his arms in a grand, welcoming gesture.

"Of course it is, my dear. But why all the surprise? Were you not expecting me?" he asked, a happy chuckle moving his chest as he smiled down at Mariella, who was apparently much more energetic than Amara ever realized. She squeezed onto him tighter and bounced again.

"What? No. No one's said a word. Will you be joining us in Erykberg?" Marie asked.

"Assuming you hadn't left without me, yes," Davion replied, slyly eyeing the rest of the gang behind her. "And I see I made it just in time…"

Mariella let go of his sleeves and stepped back, barely able to contain her joy.

"Indeed you have. We're set to leave any minute, you silly thing. You nearly missed us! Oh, this is so exciting. I had no idea. I'm so glad you'll be traveling with us!" She jittered in place with an ear to ear smile. There was a kindness and warmth to Davion's gaze as he watched her. Amara and Sarah observed the two of them with much scrutiny, although for completely different reasons.

"Yes. Yes. I can see that," he said, petting Mariella's arm to calm her down, though blatantly happy to be fawned over. It was in the tiniest moment that his gaze happened to flick up and catch Amara's. A spark ignited in his eyes that made Amara gape. And then he moved. Then he was staring only at her. Sarah saw the shift go through him in an instant and stood to attention. Oh no—

"Speaking of us…" he mumbled, all smooth-like as he leaned around Mariella. He seemed to stand a little taller even as his head tilted in intrigue. He looked dead at Amara and asked, with such a roguish upturn, "Who is that?"

Amara opened her mouth but only sucked in a breath, her nerves hitting her hard as expected. She wasn't good at introductions, let alone ones with the third most prominent figure in the country. Oh gosh. She was just gawking again, wasn't she? This was going just as badly as when she'd met His Majesty. It was a good thing he was still a good twenty or so feet away.

Her eyes flickered up to Sarah nervously, looking for guidance, but was left worried by the way the Queen's frown had since turned to a scowl. She did not know a single thing about the Prince and only hoped not to make a fool of herself or Sarah.

Thankfully, Mariella already had the matter well in hand. She glanced behind herself briefly at Amara, then turned face forward and swatted Davion's arm.

"Oh, don't you dare," she said, chidingly, with absolutely zero regard for his station. "That is the Lady Amara, the future lordess of Sulu, Gaede, and Vanti. She's also currently serving as one of Sarah's maids —so you best mind your manners." Her right index finger tsk'd at him while she spoke, like he was a child, and absolutely no one questioned her authority to do so. Davion meanwhile ignored her *almost* completely, peering around her again and humming in intrigue.

"Oh? A budding lordess, is she? My…what an honor," he said, too slick to be trusted. Mariella rolled her eyes and sighed.

"I'm serious. Please leave her be. She's not for you," she said.

Amara's lower lip pouted more and more as everyone eavesdropped on the conversation, her feelings steadily turning towards discomfort. Roldan kept an eye on her all the while, unsure if her reaction pleased or upset him.

And then Sarah took a step forward.

"Davion—" she called out, a hip jutting to the side while her arms crossed over her chest. Davion blinked as if snapping out of a daze and looked up at her.

"Yes, sister?" he replied. Sarah tried not to roll her eyes.

"Don't um…don't take this the wrong way but…what are you doing here?"

As far as she knew, Davion was not included in today's expedition. She was sure Jareth would have said something otherwise. And, from the look on Roldan's face, his sudden appearance had been a hefty surprise to him, too. She didn't like it, knowing Davion's penchant for stirring up trouble.

Davion did not reply right away. He was going to, but whatever cavalier comment he'd come up with became oddly and abruptly trapped in his throat as he stared at her. A few silent seconds passed that quickly turned awkward. It was like…something had struck him. A tic moved across Sarah's brow as well as she noticed this, waiting for a reply. Instead, he only stared at her more intensely, confusedly, for a long moment, blinking repeatedly as his brows knitted tighter and tighter. Discomfort grew as Sarah felt his focus on her strengthening in an almost…animalistic way.

"Just a second, love…" he murmured, and then took a step around Mariella, forgetting about her entirely then and there, to acknowledge only Sarah. And then, quite unexpectedly, he scowled and asked, "Are you…are you pregnant?"

Sarah froze and sucked in her lips, only noticing in her spit second of panic how intense his eyes had become and the severe rigidity now in his posture painting him a plank. Her expression immediately came to mirror his own and she fumbled to recover in a way that possessed grace instead of total awkwardness. Fuck. Shit. She forgot about that. Did Jareth seriously not tell his brother yet?

She also began blinking, her mouth opening and closing as she fought for bearings.

"Um. Yes?" she tentatively replied, wincing as she gauged his reaction. To be honest, she hadn't considered the possibility of Davion being surprised whilst completely forgetting about her new provocative scent —and they were just talking about that, too. The other males in the castle had mostly acclimated, so daily life had been pretty much normal and—

Oh no.

Before she knew it, Davion, the most self-indulgent slut she knew, was gone in a blink only to reappear directly before her. The transition was startling and she took a step back, but he closed that distance readily. His attention was honed on her in a way that felt unabashedly predatory, the brightness in his hazel eyes giving them a golden hum. He was smiling at her, wickedly.

The awkwardness Sarah felt in that split second was unparalleled and she did nothing but stare back at him dumbly.

"But wh…how…?" Davion muttered, failing to process what he was sensing. His head cocked to one side and he raised his hands as if to touch her —but couldn't seem to bring himself to do so.

Sarah's eyes shifted from side to side.

"Um…"

But he just kept creeping closer.

"Are you…" he mumbled.

"...am I what?" Sarah replied, warily, knowing full well what might happen if Davion was going to react even remotely like his older brother—

Davion's smile spread widely across his face, the new style of his hair making him look older and thus scarily akin to Jareth. He bit on his lower lip and, with such restrained excitement said, "Forgive me…I am just utterly beside myself. Slap me if you must."

Sarah's eyes widened more.

"Huh?"

His arms were around her before she knew it, squeezing her in an embrace so tight it pushed the wind clear out of her and lifted her to the tips of her toes. Her back went rigid and she shielded herself with her arms, unable to properly react to his spontaneity. Amara gasped and stepped back. Roldan stepped forward, close to intervening. But Davion did not care for any of them. Sarah felt a shiver shoot down her spine when he aggressively buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply through the nose, running his hands firmly over her shoulders and back. And then he squeezed. And there he held her, basking in her scent. Oh…geez.

"Mmm...you smell exquisite," he muttered, hotly and passionately into her neck. Sarah felt the shiver become a cringe. Thankfully, he eased up and pulled back to gaze at her abashed face. Ah, but it was so adorable to him. That look sparked something within and he no sooner swept in to kiss her —consequences nearly be damned— but he stopped himself just in time, achingly turning his head to kiss her cheek instead. Sarah remained still, her eyes pleading for help as they locked on Marie, who still stood a few paces away. "Absolutely…" Davion whispered, kissing her cheek over and over until he nuzzled a path back to her neck. "Delectable…."

The next shiver brought some of her nerves back with it. Sarah inhaled sharply and pushed him back.

"Okay, that's enough," she said, sternly, determined to keep him at arm's length. Davion obeyed without fuss, his eyes flickering down to the hands she held pressed to his chest. Oh, how sweet. Such a sweet, sweet thing.

"But why?" he asked, with puppy dog eyes. "Oh, please, do indulge me just a little longer? It's not often I'm around such a scent." And he shook his head in delight. "Not often, at all."

Sarah gulped. Why was no one saving her? Why were they all watching this weirdo man drool all over her like a piece of meat? She realized there was a social hierarchy at play, but come on. She exhaled again to steady herself, giving him a glaring eye as she geared up to yell at him.

"Davion—"

The sound seemed to appear before anything else and, in a flash, Sarah glimpsed Jareth's tense hand yanking Davion back by the hair. Davion gasped and stumbled but his smile remained, his neck craning back to relieve the pain of Jareth's hold on him.

Sarah, with a sudden fluttering pulse, stepped back with a gasp, hardly over the first abrupt teleportation. Jareth stood directly beside her, his attention fixed and irate on his brother.

"Ah- Gods, was that really necessary?" Davion asked, wincing, as Jareth let go so he could stagger back. Davion huffed and fixed his hair, straightening up with a pout. Sarah blinked even more, catching up to the situation and wondering if what had just happened would be considered inappropriate or not.

Jareth, scowling, growled subtly in his throat.

"I don't know. Was it?" he asked. Davion scoffed.

"Oh come now. I stopped myself, didn't I?" he replied, positively flustered. Sarah wondered if she should go sit in the carriage— "You have no idea how much self control I exuded just now not to ravish her whole." Then he paused and shot Sarah a cheeky grin. "I did swear not to accost you too badly anymore, didn't I? I did well, yes? Surely my gesture was received with as much wholesome affection as was intended—" and then his grin turned boyish "—or else I'd be dead."

A high level of amusement carried that morbid line, which only added to Sarah's awkwardness. Her eyes shifted warily and she swallowed, doing to her best gauge Jareth's mood as quickly and discreetly as possible.

"Um…if you say so…" she replied.

Davion looked at Jareth, carefree smile in tow.

"See? She's fine with it," he said, dropping the matter there. "No harm, no foul."

Jareth scowled, looking down his nose at Davion and his asinine expression.

"You've been here two minutes and already my patience is at its limit," he said. Sarah looked at him with puzzlement.

Two minutes? she thought. How the heck could he know that? Had he been watching them?

No longer concerned with Davion's apparently innocent antics, she angled herself towards Jareth and addressed him firmly.

"How did you—where have you been, exactly?" she asked, hands to hip. Jareth dropped the scowl to regard her with a sense of cool detachment. Well, at least that meant he wasn't mad at her.

"In the library," he replied. Sarah waited for an elaboration but received none.

"...doing what?" she asked, leadingly. Jareth remained aloof, perhaps acting a tad antagonistic of her open interrogation.

"Things," he said, ominously. Sarah rolled her eyes and exhaled.

"Uh huh," she replied, realizing she would get nowhere with him right now and deciding to just let it go. Instead of probing the matter deeper, she tentatively asked, "Did you…?"

Jareth arched a sharp brow at her.

"Did I…what?" he repeated, defensively. "See my brother mauling you with his dirty hands and face? Yes. I did." Then, with a snap, he looked away from her to Davion. "And, unless you'd prefer I act on the threat now, if he touches you without your permission again, I will gouge out his eyes and make him eat them with his favorite silver spoon." And his eyes narrowed dangerously on Davion's. "Do you understand?"

Davion, still pouting, felt wholeheartedly victimized by his brother's harsh words. He scoffed loudly in protest and fidgeted in place.

"Ugh, of course," he said, averting his eyes sarcastically. "I will behave. I promise."

Jareth looked at Sarah next. Apparently that question was for both of them. Sarah gaped, eyes flickering to Davion and back.

"Um, please don't do that to him," she said, using awkwardness to mediate the situation as best as she could. "It's fine….I guess."

Which was all the clemency Davion needed to hear. He clapped his hands together in exaltation.

"Oh, my sweet sister. I do love your magnanimity," he said, then leaned towards her with his hands still steepled. "But please, don't judge me too harshly. This is quite the surprise after all."

His voice dropped on that word, alluding to the probability that, beyond his excitement, he was in fact annoyed by the disregard. Knowing such subtext was directed at Jareth, Sarah turned to her husband scoldingly.

"...you didn't tell him?" she asked.

Jareth, looking so petulant with his proud posture and confidently raised nose, did not have any intention of conceding the matter.

"Why would I?" he asked in retort. Sarah tried not to sigh.

"Because he's your brother?" she suggested. Jareth arched a haughty eyebrow.

"And?" he asked. "I have not told anyone unless absolutely necessary."

"It pains me to know I matter so little to you, Jareth," Davion interjected, sarcasm woven heavily within. "But alas, I'm here now and I believe we have much to discuss."

Jareth turned himself away.

"And discuss, we shall —after our return," he said, point-blank. "I don't know what you're doing here, but your timing is unfortunate. We're about to depart for the south."

The dismissal poised in Jareth's side-cast gaze was palpable to everyone, especially his brother. Davion puffed up in offense, not nearly close to backing down.

"What I'm doing here?" he repeated, brows lifting high. "I politely assumed you merely forgot my formal invitation, but this is just plain insulting, Jareth. I'm still a prince of this nation. I have every right to preside over this ceremony with the two of you."

Beyond mere obstinance, Sarah gauged a genuine sense of hurt from him. Davion, in frustration, slanted his eyes to the side and crossed his arms. Sarah started to frown, but Jareth was quick with a response.

"So you've invited yourself?" he asked, without a shred of compassion. Sarah was about to interject that he was being too harsh, but then Jareth shook his head and sighed. "Fine. You are technically right, so I can't stop you from being there." Then a minor contemplative pause… "But, as it is, our caravan only seats six and we are pressed for time. I suppose you'll have to find your own way."

Davion's head shook in disbelief.

"Jareth. Come now. Don't be like that. Are you really that cross?" he asked, beside himself. "And after I experienced such genuine shock? Your shiny new wife is pregnant, after all. Preg. Nant. And carrying a very important seed. I'm sure you understand the gravity of such a wonderful development? Can you really blame me for feeling overwhelmed? I had no idea what I was walking into." Then he set his sights on Sarah, knowing she'd be easier to break. "Tell me, Sarah, is there truly no room for little ol' me? Will you treat me so coldly as well?"

Sarah, unsure of what to do with the ball he'd tossed in her court, held steady with the shifty eyes.

"Well...you have been known to cause mischief…" she said.

"But I've sworn to do right by you, remember?" he said, placing a very deliberate hand to his heart. "You know I would die by breaking that oath."

Sarah's posture became just as steely as Jareth's.

"So you've said," she replied, aloof.

She watched the spirit drain from Davion's face as he stared at her, lowering the corners of his mouth into a vacant frown. His brows were slightly knitted. As overtly manipulative as he was trying to be, she also knew he was actually upset. It was that blip of sincerity that finally tugged on her heartstrings, making her feel suddenly guilty. She frowned as well, then turned the look up at Jareth.

"It…wouldn't be that big of a deal if he came with us, would it?" she asked, with a wince. "There's plenty of room."

Jareth stared at Sarah long and hard with an unreadable countenance. She had no idea how he would respond. Then, after a poignant moment of silence, he muttered a much begrudged, "He can ride with Roldan."

Both Roldan and Davion reacted simultaneously.

"What?" They called out in unison. Everyone's attention shifted to the two of them, standing comically with the same exact expression of revulsion. Jareth blinked slowly then cocked his head towards his brother.

"Roldan has his own cabin," Jareth explained. "You'll be the most comfortable there."

"Will he, though?" Roldan interjected, disgust lain clearly on his wrinkled face. Davion glanced back at him in a novel moment of comradery.

"Yes. In this instance I agree wholeheartedly," he said, placing fisted hands to his hips.

"Then how about leeching off my new doctor and his bandwagon of medical supplies?" Jareth suggested instead, his utter disinterest unmatched. Davion glanced over at the yet to be introduced stranger observing them from the side, whom he'd eyed when he first came in and correctly presumed to be some serf —and thus not worth his interest. Oh, but he was interested now. Jareth scoffed and narrowed his eyes, adding—"Perhaps you might even learn something along the way."

Davion drew back in offense.

"Jareth, how could you even suggest such a thing?" he said, aghast. "A prince such as myself riding in the back with the help? Absolutely not. It's obscene."

Jareth, however, remained unswayed by his plight.

"You're more than welcome to walk," he said.

Davion groaned and made a wild gesture with his hands.

"At least let me ride with the ladies," he countered, peering at the faes in question with a polite smile. "I've no doubt they'll be delightful company. That is a fair compromise, wouldn't you say? Considering, by all rights, that I should be riding in front with you."

More of that ominous undertone showed itself in that final word, which was enough to finally win over Sarah. He did have a point, didn't he? He might be a rascal on a personal level, but he deserved better treatment than this by birthright alone —even Sarah knew that much. She started feeling really guilty now. Maybe Jareth really was being too hard on him.

Seeing this as an opportunity for the two brothers to work in some much needed quality time, Sarah decisively switched sides. She peered at Mariella, then more sternly at Amara —confused, worried little thing that she was.

"...only if both Marie and Amara agree," she said, keeping strict eye-contact with the ladies. She already knew Marie's answer, naturally, so she focused more on Amara.

Amara looked as sheepish as ever as she looked around the group, then muttered a shy, "...I think that would be fine."

"See? Everyone is in agreement, then," Davion said, in a near proclamation. Sarah's expression hardened like her husband's.

"But no funny business," she said, interrupting his jubilation with a pointed finger aimed directly at his chest. "I mean it, Davion. If Mariella tells me you made Amara even the tiniest bit uncomfortable, I will kick you to the curb then and there, and you really can walk."

Davion, far too pleased to take her threat seriously, grinned like a cad and bowed his head low.

"Of course. Of course," he said. "I shan't let you down."

Hoping not to regret the decision she'd just made, Sarah gave a tired exhale as she watched him straighten.

"Did you bring any luggage?" she asked. Davion beamed.

"I did. And it's already being loaded," he said, back to chipper. Then he clapped his hands together again and twirled on his heel. "Well, now that that's all settled, shall we be on?" he asked the room, the slight echo in the hall giving him an air of showmanship. "We do have a long journey ahead…"

---

A certain broodiness loomed over select members of the group as they all stood at the base of the stairs in the Capital Square, waiting on the last minute bustling of the goblins. Most of the luggage had been loaded —save Davion's, of course. Jareth's head general, Arken, who would be leading their procession, said it would only be a few more minutes.

Jareth and General Arken continued to speak, but it was a conversation that Sarah had very little interest in. Seeing so many soldiers, members of her Queen's Guard included, only reminded her that Baldur and Didumus were not among them. They were still under probation because of the Herdsmen incident and, according to Jareth, would continue to be for some time to come. She'd pleaded her case to have them accompany her despite it, but Jareth had been absolutely resolute in his refusal. She figured his feelings on the matter must still be quite strong for him to resist the natural compulsion of her pheromones as outright as he did. Knowing it was not a matter worth starting a fight over, she tried not to feel too disappointed about it and instead took in the grandiose of the site before her, marveling at the relatively unexpected level of commotion going on around them.

She supposed she had been expecting a caravan similar to the one they took to Sulu —minimal, underwhelming, shabby. Jareth had made a point about the value of discretion when traveling through the Barrens. Today's caravan, however, was the exact opposite.

In front of them waited a series of eight carriages —all of which much larger than any she'd previously traveled in. They were simply massive, with thicker wheels and thoroughly cleaned, metal suspension systems, boasting actual gold trim and, judging by the size alone, potentially even more than one room. They were also heavily decorated in veils of black velvet and gold tassel trim. The embellishment on the exteriors was hand carved and fittingly ostentatious, and she couldn't even finish counting the number of horses idling on standby. There were at least two for each carriage —hers and Jareth's boasting an audacious four— while a number of larger, more human sized goblin cavalry had mounted at least another ten. Goblin infantry mounted upon peculiar dinosaur-like creatures stood in line, everywhere. Some of them held scepters and flagpoles high in the air, proudly displaying the Goblin crest high up for all to see. Each soldier was decked in full regalia, newer-looking, and recently cleaned. A crowd of goblin citizens was kept in check by a tight perimeter of the city's guard —the raucous sound of their cheering making for a festive ambience.

When Jareth was finished speaking with his general, she thought to ask him a question.

"So um…we're just going to chuck that whole sneaky is safe philosophy out the window this time?"

Jareth gave her a smirk.

"Yes," he replied, with amusement. "While sneaky would be safer, this is a once in a lifetime event. Just our pilgrimage to the opening is a celebration all on its own. Think of yourself as the star of a two week parade."

Sarah blinked from him to the carriages, her lips puckering in thought. Two weeks, huh? She guessed that made sense. It would be a three or so day ride each way. While the ceremony itself would happen quickly, Jareth had already told her that the festival would go on for upwards of a full week. They didn't need to stay that entire time, but he assured her that they could if she wanted.

"Okay. But…why are these carriages so big?" she asked, gesturing at them with her chin. "They're like…twice the size of the other ones we've ridden in…"

Jareth's shoulder brushed hers when he tilted his head down to speak closer to her ear.

"Because these ones have beds," he said. Sarah looked over at him sharply.

"What?" was her knee-jerk reply. Jareth's eyes slanted to their carriage and he straightened.

"These carriages are outfitted with bedchambers —hence the second door you see there," he said, gesturing at such. "Should be plenty of room to keep comfortable in." And then his eyes averted, playfully. "And to, well…"

His voice trailed off, for there was no reason to bother with what remained of that sentence. One side of his mouth was cracked in a naughty grin. Sarah pursed her lips to suppress a smirk of her own, choosing to disregard the comment.

"Oh. So I could just lay down and sleep the whole way there?" she asked, with genuine eagerness. Jareth repressed a soft chuckle to his chest.

"That was the idea," he replied. Then she looked at him worriedly.

"But...it won't be too bumpy?" she asked. Then quickly added, "—the ride, not the bed, I mean."

Jareth made a flittering gesture his his hand.

"I assure you, the ride will be as smooth as floating on air," he said. "Considering we actually will be."

Sarah's brows furrowed.

"Come again?" she asked. Jareth nodded towards the carriage.

"Look— There's a gap in the suspension. See?" he asked. Sarah peered over and narrowed her eyes. Indeed, she did see a gap, a few inches of space between the carriage body and the rest of the frame. So it was floating? Which…should be impossible. Given the growing confusion evidenced on her face, Jareth couldn't help but tease her. "Magic can be a nifty thing," he said, wiggling his brows playfully.

Sarah huffed, trying her damned best not to let him get a full smile out of her.

"...and the carriage we took to Sulu couldn't have had the same feature?" she asked, crossing her arms in some trite form of defiance. Jareth wondered how long she intended to play coy.

"We were passing as plebeians then, dear," he replied. "A magical carriage would have alerted passersby of their magic wielding, undoubtedly affluent passengers."

Sarah arched a brow at him.

"...which is something we don't need to worry about now?" she asked. Jareth winked at her.

"Exactly."

Sarah held his stare skeptically, lips pursing together as she debated whether or not to press the issue. This all seemed pretty damn hypocritical to her, given how often he liked to lecture her about the dangers beyond the castle grounds. But…that all seemed rather pointless.

"Mm…so long as it's safe," she mumbled, turning her head forward to scrutinize their carriage. Jareth watched her for a moment, gleaning her subtle worry from the tension in her brow and the slight downturn to her lips, then reached up to brush her hair behind her ear, seeking her attention. She glanced up at him again compulsively.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, softly. Sarah's frown worsened, but she nodded.

"Of course I do," she replied. Jareth's gaze on her warmed.

"Then let me do the worrying, alright?" he asked. Then his hand brushed down her jaw to gently pinch her chin. "I will protect you, so you can rest easy. …or don't . Be as loud and conspicuous as you want. But, more than anything…" and his eyes turned a little misty on her lips. "...I'm hoping this trip might actually be fun for us."

Bittersweet recollections passed between them which had Sarah lowering her eyes. Right. So far, every trip they'd taken together had ended badly. While she believed those events had been mostly necessary, she agreed with him. It would be nice to just…relax.

She chose to let go of her reservations for both their sake, resigning herself to let him handle whatever responsibilities that may arise if and when. She had enough to worry about once they actually got to Erykburg, so it would probably be in her best interest to think about theoretical dangers as little as possible. "Me too," she said to him. Her frown left in favor of a sweet, reassuring smile, the sentiment reciprocated by the subtle affection of his own. Content, she looked away and leaned against his side, hugging his arm while her head rested against his shoulder. He seemed attuned to her and looked ahead as well. The militia was finalizing itself —just a few servant goblins left scurrying. The other members of their rag-tag family stood in line just to the side of them, carrying on in their own menial conversations.

Having been pushed away by Jareth earlier, Davion had chosen to wedge himself between Mariella and Amara instead, leaving Roldan to glower on the other side of Amara whilst absently conversing with lonely Andeas.

"So, future lordess of Sulu," Davion said, cocking his head at her while his left arm curled Mariella's shoulders. Amara looked up at him attentively. "That must make you Eines's daughter, yes?"

Amara blinked quickly, taking a sharp inhale through the nose.

"Yes. That is me," she replied. Davion's grin curled.

"Mm…the composer?"

A variety of physical reactions took place simultaneously at that comment. Amara perked up in surprise. Mariella smiled proudly. And Roldan…Roldan glared.

"Um, yes, my prince. You know of my work?" Amara asked him, timidly. Davion's eyes creased at the corners. Ah, such innocence.

"Of course," he replied, leaning closer to her and her frilly pink dress. "You are a treasure of our nation, renowned throughout the whole of the continent." His arm began to slide off of Mariella as he reached down to boldly clasp one of Amara's hands. He raised it to his mouth and gave it a kiss. "How could I not know of such a brilliant asset? Although…" And he gradually released her hand, making sure the touch lingered for as long as possible. "I had no idea you were such a lovely thing. I say, I am delightfully surprised."

A deep blush covered Amara's entire face —potentially burning from the strength of Roldan's vehement side eye. She stammered through her response.

"T-thank you, my prince," she said, shifting her eyes to the side. Mariella was standing casually, fiddling with the hand Davion kept draped over her shoulder, but Amara's hands were clasped tightly in front of herself. Davion used the moment to rake his eyes over her even more, envisioning what fun it would be to sully the petals on that delicate flower of a girl, one by one.

"Mm. My Prince, my prince. So formal," he said, teasing her, watching the way she nibbled on her lips closely. Then his eyes narrowed. Oh, what potential indeed. "It does suit you though," he added, then smiled wide and devilishly. "Please, do call me that again."

The suggestion in his tone could not be mistaken. Amara's eyes widened and shifted, refusing to look directly at his face, unsure of what she'd done to provoke him or how to respond. She opened her mouth again, but all she needed to say was a tentative "Ah…" before studious Mariella intervened again.

"Lord Davion likes to tease," she said, slanting her eyes at Davion disapprovingly. Then she looked around him at Amara and smiled reassuringly. "He also likes to unfetter people. Don't take him too seriously. His intentions are trite, I swear it."

Amara nodded but not in full belief, still on edge being in the presence of someone of such infamy. Indeed, she'd heard as much from her aunt and more than a few other court women —but to her that only meant he should be taken all the more seriously. The prince of goblins may be a known scoundrel, but he was also one with the authority to sever her head from her shoulders at will.

"Hmph. Such impudence," Davion interjected, pulling Amara from her brief daze. He scoffed next and rolled his eyes. "You make it seem like I'm some sort of cad."

"A lovable cad, of course," Marie replied, with a facetious dip of the head as she affectionately patted his chest. Amara drew her brows together worriedly. She knew Mariella had been a courtesan of Prince Davion, but this level of familiarity was unexpected. Was there truly no courtly code of conduct here, at all?

She was caught in thought again before she even realized it, which left her wide open to Davion's lecherous scrutiny.

"Hm. I know it's redundant, but you really are a pretty little thing," he said, pinching his chin as he looked low over her. "I'm surprised, given how...unfashionable your father is. You must take after your mother—she was also a pretty thing, if memory serves. I've heard so much about you, but how is it that we have not met before, I wonder?"

Amara drew up her shoulders in a shy hunch and averted her eyes.

"Well, I haven't been formally introduced in Court, so…that is probably why," she awkwardly said.

"Oh? For what reason?" he asked with a frown. "You're old enough, certainly?"

A bout of nervous laughter preceded Amara's next reply.

"Yes…I think….my father is just protective." Then she shrugged. "And I'm in no rush to join anyway."

The neckline of her dress dipped down a bit when she pulled her shoulders up and the very faint shadow of cleavage Davion gleaned was...cute. A subconscious grin began to spread across his face then. She looked so meek, but he could envision clearly just how wanton and erotic that pale little body could be —if properly guided, of course.

"No? That's too bad," he said, ne'er to be deterred. "But, seeing how you're now in service to my beloved sister, I would be more than happy to host your introduction myself. Fyrn is known for its excellent festivities, you know." And he gave her a playful wink. Amara stiffened and so did Roldan —but no one had acknowledged him yet.

"Heh, yes, I've heard," Amara replied, politely, then dipped her head. "And thank you for the offer, my prince. It would be an honor."

Oh…so obedient.

"Hn. An honor indeed," Davion said.

A break followed that Amara felt was nothing but awkward. She refrained from pinching her fingers but could no longer look Davion in the eye, or at any part of him at all. It was very strange. He only vaguely resembled king Jareth, beyond their smile, but their energies were identical. Overpowering, intimidating, focused. She was only glad His Majesty chose to mostly ignore her. She might actually combust should he act so coquettishly towards her. Oh, poor Sarah. And she had to deal with this all the time? From both of them? What strength she must have.

Movement from their peripheral caught everyone's attention and the collective focus shifted to Sarah and Jareth entering their carriage. The grooms had all assumed their benches and the horses scraped their hooves over the stone slabs of the courtyard impatiently. Eager for a deflection, Amara suggested they take their seats as well. The remainder of the entourage took her cue and dispersed. Roldan reluctantly walked away but paused before entering his carriage. His hand gripped the frame tightly as he watched Davion leer all over Amara whilst she climbed into theirs, and he bit his cheek in constraint. He detested the look on that wretch's face —the creeping grin and invasive gaze that was a blatant portent of what mischief might come of this. He was honestly worried, not that he doubted Mariella's ability to handle him. Still, he was already counting the seconds until their first rest. Perhaps he could have suggested she ride him with, so Mariella would have Davion all to herself but…no, no. That would be insane…

---

Jubilation followed the merry band of diplomats as they departed the familiar, dust-clouded streets of the Goblin City —the echo of shrill goblin cheers carrying on over the Labyrinth walls and desert dunes for miles and miles, unimpeded. Sarah watched from the coach window as the bittersweet image of the Labyrinth, in all its former glory, steadily receded from view until desert and a haze of hot air, distorting the horizon, were all that remained. It was an odd feeling, to be leaving —to watch the place that had so quickly become her entire world just shrink away in the wake of far grander adventures, yet to be had. It excited her and frightened her in equal measure. She remembered a time when she thought the Underground might have all been in her head, but realized from that snapshot in time alone that her limited imagination could never even hope to encapsulate all that the Underground truly had to offer. And, now that she'd finally accepted it, she had every intention of expanding those horizons, of taking everything that magical place could give her.

As the minutes turned to hours, the world fell silent again, serene and idle. Not much conversation passed between her and Jareth, but it was a content silence. He could see her widened eyes scanning the landscape, attentive and fervent. It was an expression that brought him a feeling of pride as he absently grinned at the book he was haphazardly reading. However, at one point a gust of wind swept over the land and brought a spray of sand along with it. Sarah scowled and blinked the dust from her eyes, then took nature's hint and leaned away from the window.

Jareth watched the mousey way she itched her nose and couldn't help but grin wider.

"Are you alright?" he asked, a slight laugh under his breath. Sarah rubbed at her eyes with a frown.

"Yeah…just got some sand in my eyes…"

She scowled tightly, leaving herself blind to the way Jareth abruptly leaned forward, towards her. Her breath hitched in surprise at the feeling of his bare fingers pinching her chin. She stopped fussing and tried to open her eyes. He was sitting on the bench across from her. The image was blurry, but somehow she knew he was smiling at her.

"Hold on…" he cood, like one would a child needing assistance. Sarah frowned but sat still, caring more for the sting in her eyes than his derision. She felt him brush the pads of his thumbs gently over her eyelids, lulling away the discomfort. She began blinking rapidly when his touch left her and he leaned back in his seat. Her hands were still raised in preemptive fists, but the urge to rub at her eyes had fled. Clarity came back to her vision and so did his smug expression, thinking she was just so darn cute. "Better?" he asked.

Assuming he had used some form of magic on her, Sarah resided to simply nod and thank him.

"Uh, yeah. Thank you…"

A faint huff left Jareth's nose, but he was amused.

"Are you feeling any better yet?" he asked, lowering his book to rest on his lap. Sarah did the same with her hands.

"Um…yeah, I think so," she replied, one hand unconsciously pressing to her stomach. "The sick feeling is gone. I'm still tired though."

"You're welcome to rest in the back, if you'd like," Jareth said, observing her mannerisms for weariness or strain. "We aren't scheduled to stop for a few more hours still."

Sarah glanced out the window as she pondered.

"...what about lunch?" she asked, so pettishly.

"I planned to have today's lunch served in transit, unless you'd rather we stop?" he said.

He watched her frown at nothing but didn't know why. She rubbed her stomach again, then sighed.

"...no. We probably shouldn't. That would set us back and I don't want us to be late," she said. Her eyes flicked up to the shelf above Jareth's head that housed their carry-ons, catching on a basket that was both unfamiliar and suspiciously wicker. "Is that it?" she asked, gesturing with her chin. "Our carriage picnic?"

Jareth smirked and leaned forward, his gaze lingering on her before he turned and reached up to pull the basket down for her.

"Indeed —packed to the brim with everything your fickle little palate could ever fight itself over." He teased her lightly while opening the basket, remarking on the increasing severity of her food aversions and cravings over the last few days. And, while he clearly thought nothing of it, Sarah watched him a tad more pointedly. He'd been so busy that week that they hadn't shared many meals together, which had her wondering how he knew about her ever-changing appetite at all. Maybe Marie had said something? Or…had he been keeping tabs on her again? The latter seemed much more likely.

While normally she would be offended by being so closely watched, she knew that, in this small instance, it came from a place of concern rather than dominion. It seemed as though every little thing that might possibly relate to her pregnancy had become a critical matter to him. Currently it was endearing, although she could see that behavior becoming overbearing quickly. Given the sway of her pheromones, she also knew it was something to be closely monitored given Jareth's theory on Braxton. Still, she wanted to humor it for as long as she could stand to. On the surface, Jareth did seem generally happy with the new situation —but she knew what anxiety lurked just beneath it. Small comments such as that were a tell of it, as was the fact that the basket on his lap looked to be legitimately bottomless.

Interpreting her confusion over magical pocket worlds as a comical state of hunger, Jareth readily passed the basket to her. She looked down into it and began to rummage hastily —less in search of a fitting snack and more out of need to find that actual bottom.

Alas, no matter how deeply she slithered her arm within, none could be found. She pulled free of it with a look of bemusement.

"This…this is magic," she said. Jareth stifled a laugh.

"Yes. And?" he replied. She peered up at him doe-eyed, which had him staving another chuckle. "Really, now. You'd think you'd be getting used to trinkets like this," he said, teasingly. Sarah pouted.

"Yeah, you'd think," she replied, sarcastically, then shook her head as she started sorting through it again. "I don't know if I'll ever get used to it, honestly," she mumbled, then her eyes widened. "Geez, you really did pack a little of everything, didn't you?"

She looked over at him with a raised eyebrow while pulling out a jar of goblin-grade pickles and a Milky Way candy bar simultaneously. Jareth averted his eyes and shrugged.

"Well…if you count delegation as personal effort, then yes," he said, leaning back leisurely in his seat. "But, more accurately, it was Mariella and the doctor who put together that assortment for you." Then he gave a small bow of the head. "Under my command, of course."

Sarah's arched eyebrow twitched.

"Uh huh. The candy bars kind of gave Andeas away. I'll be sure to thank them, too," she said, deadpan, reluctant to feed his ego. That was fine though. It'd been harder to offend or irritate him since letting her smell run free. As odd and primal as that all was, she figured it was also a good thing given her mood swings—should she not take too much advantage, at least.

After more burrowing, she eventually settled on a ham sandwich and some cookies —setting up a station in her lap all primp and proper and pleased. Jareth did not join her but continued to watch her attentively. She was adorable in moments like this, eyes and smile alight over the most trivial of things.

He resumed his book while she ate, the sound of the carriage wheels turning over rough road being the only real sound. Fatigue fell over her once she finished, making her eyes droop with long, weighted blinks. She did her best not to let herself slouch, but even when distracted Jareth knew better. He put down the book again and retrieved the basket from her bench, then set it back on the shelf.

"Come," he said, startling her. She looked at him confusedly when he held out his hand. "Let's rest for a bit." And then something of mischief danced in his eyes. "—pass some of the time."

She took his hand but didn't know what he planned to do with it. As far as she knew, the door to the carriage's bunk was located on the outside. For a moment, she wondered if he intended to stop the caravan.

Then she remembered he was also magic.

They transitioned between blinks, the ambient light of the cabin they once sat in replaced by the total darkness of the shuddered bedchamber behind it. Sarah felt her bottom lower into the plush cushion of a comforter and mattress, the fabric cold and crisp against the palm of her hand. She looked around but the abrupt change in lighting was disorienting. It took a few minutes of adjustment before being able to discern anything. She made out the shape of several small windows currently latched shut, light-tight, as well as the rib-like rafters shaping the ceiling. Jareth released her and she leaned back on the heels of her hands, still trying to bring the room into focus and thus leaving herself unguarded against Jareth's spectral touch taking hold her ankles in the darkness.

She restrained an instinctive gasp and looked sharply ahead, but all she could see was his vague silhouette. Regardless, she did not need to see with her eyes to know how pleased he was with her girlish reaction —tangibly feeling his grin on her ankles as he removed her shoes for her.

Her slippers slid off and were tossed aside in quick succession, tumbling off of the mattress and onto the floor. She looked upwards then, noting that the carriage was probably tall enough to stand in and wondering, if a nondescript little basket could be made bottomless, then why the carriage they took to Sulu couldn't have been made a bit more roomier too. She did not voice that question, however. She was getting too sleepy.

She heard Jareth kick off his own boots and then felt a shift in the bed as he laid himself down. Apparently able to see more clearly than her, he took her hand again and guided her to lay out alongside him. She nestled close to his side and hugged him, one leg hooking around his thigh in a possessive manner. She felt his left arm circle her shoulders and hold her just as snuggly, and there they cemented. As Sarah quickly drifted off to sleep, she wondered if Jareth was even tired at all. He certainly didn't seem it, which had made her assume his invitation was more of an innuendo. She would have been fine if his hands began to roam and tease, but they didn't. No, they stayed perfectly still and the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek was slow. Perhaps he really was just going to keep her company.

A twinge of guilt urged her to lean up and say something, not wanting to be a bore or inconvenience, but she didn't. She was getting selfish, indulging in his spoiled treatment of her. The fact that he would lay there and stare in silent nothingness while she had her way in dreams pleased her. Made her feel…special. He was the mighty Goblin king —and she had him all to herself.

---

It was early evening by the time Sarah awoke, although she did not realize it until exiting the carriage.

It was still perfect darkness when her eyes fluttered open, but muffled chatter from outside guided her into consciousness. She sat up and yawned, feeling the bed and realizing that she was alone. She was not bothered nor confused by Jareth's absence, however, being well accustomed to it by now. Rather, she used the solitude to gather herself gradually, attuning her ears to the commotion outside. She heard Mariella and Amara talking, then an abrupt burst of laughter from Davion. Curious, she peeked under the cover of one of the windows to see what was going on.

While the sun was setting and daylight significantly duller than before her nap, it was still a jarring change and she grimaced. Her eyes adjusted painfully with quick blinks, leaning away from the window for a moment, then she tried again. It didn't help that the sun was setting directly in front of her.

The second attempt came easier. She saw a field with some trees spanning into the distance, the horizon obscured by the silhouettes of a few tents and awnings. A series ornate chairs were lined around a fire, two of them occupied by Davion and Andeas while the rest of the group went about their business in the background.

Eager to see what exactly a royal encampment would look like, Sarah felt her way to the door's latch and exited.

Her eyes hadn't finished adjusting, so her grand reveal came with another grimace. She didn't care, though, only shielding her vulnerable eyes from the setting sun. Her head was foggy and her limbs felt like jello, which had her wondering if she'd actually slept too long. Davion, who sat facing her, caught sight of her first and perked up in his seat.

"Oh, and there she is!" he announced. Everyone else stopped whatever they were doing and looked over at her, too. "Good evening, sister. I'm glad you're finally awake. I was starting to worry I wouldn't see you at all!" Davion said.

Sarah stepped down from the carriage and scratched the back of her head, giving the scene a quick inspection from left to right. She saw a series of four large tents circling the firepit, each with the flaps rolled up on the side that faced it. Within she briefly glimpsed a decadent assortment of furniture —chairs, tables, desks, rugs, even a decanting table and some decorative knick-knacks. Mariella and Amara stood closely together in one such tent, previously chatting while pouring themselves drinks. She spied Roldan lounging in another, deeply reclined in a cushioned armchair with some book in hand, presumably doing his best as a wallflower. To the right, she saw Andeas relaxing in another chair by the fire, a wide berth away from Davion. Goblins scurried about, doing…something which everyone else ignored. The remainder of the carriages completed the circle, infantry and cavalry men both standing guard around the perimeter as well as gathering a ways off in their own small encampment to the far right. The horses and goblin mounts had been let free to rest out in the field beyond, which meant…there was only one person missing.

"Ah…sorry," she said to Davion, still a little out of it and barely paying attention to him at all. She peered side to side repeatedly as she approached the firepit, wondering where the heck Jareth had disappeared to that time. Davion smiled and leaned back in his chair.

"I was being facetious," he said, apparently just as out of tune as she was. "But I appreciate the apology. Now…why don't you come have a seat —right by me." The look in his eyes was wolfish as he reached over and patted the seat of the chair next to him. Sarah was too absentminded to take his lechery seriously and obediently walked herself right to it. She sat down beside him and sighed, taking a moment to relax before looking around to greet everyone else.

"Hey everyone…" she said, awkwardly. Mariella and Amara finished fixing their drinks and hurriedly moved to join her at the fire. Roldan returned to his book.

"Did you sleep well, Sarah?" Amara asked, handing her the cup of water she'd just finished pouring for herself before taking one of the vacant chairs next to Andeas. Sarah took it gratefully and with a smile.

"I did, actually. I'm shocked," she replied, before taking a deep sip to quench her parched throat. The cold of the water helped clear the fog from her head.

"That's great! You look much more rested now," said Amara, smiling widely. Mariella, having chosen the empty chair between Davion and Andeas, crossed her legs and leaned in.

"Indeed. I was a little concerned with how long you were sleeping, but apparently you needed it," she said.

Sarah made a self-deprecating smile and averted her eyes.

"Ah…yeah. I just hope I haven't ruined myself for tonight. I really…don't want to be tossing and turning all night long—"

"Oh, you tease," Davion interjected, leaning her way with one ankle crossed over a knee, his jaw resting atop his fist. His smile was Cheshire. A little too extra, even for him. Sarah scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Just tone it down a bit with the perviness, would ya?" she said. Davion chuckled, undeterred. Sarah unwisely chose to cross gazes with him just then, nearly cringing at the way his TwInKleD.

"The what? I can't say I know what you're talking about," he replied, perfectly cavalier. Sarah shook her head.

"Anyway…where did Jareth go now?" she asked the crowd, changing topic. Andeas's eyes shifted.

"I believe he went with the General to erect wards," he said. "But…that was a while ago, so we don't know where he is currently."

Sarah scrunched her brows and looked sharply at Davion.

"Oh? Then shouldn't you be with him, too?" she asked. Davion, looking suddenly put on the spot, played it off nonchalantly.

"You assume he wanted me with him —or even permitted it, for that matter," he replied with a flippant wave, then sighed. "But no. No, my dear brother made it perfectly clear that he'd rather I watch over the camp. You know, tending to your needs and wishes in his stead?"

Sarah's expression had never been more dead.

"...uh huh. I'm sure that's exactly what he meant," she said, dismissing him with a slow blink before redirecting the conversation towards Marie and Amara. "How long have I been asleep for? When did you get all this set up?" she asked. Amara replied first.

"Oh. Well, I'd say we've all been lounging here for about an hour. It's a little after seven o'clock," she said, sitting prettily. Mariella took a sip of wine before speaking.

"That said, it's been about two hours since the caravan stopped," said Marie. "The goblins did an excellent job setting all this up for us promptly. They're at work readying our supper, now. Hence all the scuttling," she added, snickering down at a goblin that dashed around them just then. Sarah wondered where their makeshift kitchen was.

"I see…how long does it take to erect wards?" she asked, looking at Davion but posing the question to anybody. "Surely not as long as it took in Sulana?"

"I can't say," Davion replied. "My specialty is breaking wards, not creating them." He gave her a canny wink at the end and hid his grin behind a swig of wine. Sarah narrowed her eyes on him, all too aware of his subtext. But, even with that minor annoyance in mind, her eyes couldn't help but gloss over him for the briefest second. He looked thoroughly and utterly relaxed, slouching far back in his chair while his head tilted in her direction. The front of his shirt was untied and the buttons on his vest were now undone. His bangs looked a little messier than usual and the length of his ponytail laid heavily over his shoulder to pool on his stomach. Combined with all his bobbles and the dreamy look in his eye, he was coming off as unwarrantedly wanton.

Davion caught her ogling him and uncrossed his legs to plant them wide apart instead.

"You may sit in my lap, if you'd like," he offered, barely containing his laughter when Sarah abruptly scowled and looked away. As obnoxious and flouty as he was, he did have her at a small disadvantage —you know, because of that whole dream-fuck in the butt, mess?

"Thanks, but I'm good," she said, obstinately. Davion tapped his lips with the tips of his fingers as he studied her.

"Mhm. You are," he said, more intimately. "Very, very good."

Sarah felt a rise in her chest threaten to lift her from her seat as she averted her eyes from him, but thankfully a proper deflection arrived. A hand clamping over the rim of her chair had her looking up reflexively, just in time to see Jareth step forward and take the empty chair to her right. Now only one empty chair remained —the one Roldan seemed determined not to take.

Jareth, either ignorant of Davion's comments or simply disinterested in them, closed his eyes and sighed as he sat back in the chair. He looked mildly tired, which had her brow drawing together in concern.

"Hey," she said, in greeting. Jareth stretched out and inhaled deeply through the nose.

"Hello. I see you've successfully come back to life," he replied. The ease in his tone relieved her of any worry.

"I have. I guess I just really needed a nap," she said, shrugging sheepishly. Jareth opened his eyes and slanted them towards her.

"So you're feeling better then? Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No. I'm fine waiting," she replied. "Did you just finish the warding?"

"No. The warding took all but twenty minutes," Jareth replied, then leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. "I decided to join the scouts and inspect the surrounding area afterwards." Then he turned his head and gestured towards a wooded area to the left, behind her. "There's a fresh spring behind those woods over there. You can bathe in it tomorrow before we leave, if you wish."

Sarah's brows lifted and she peered back over her shoulder. Oh? A spring? Like…an actual spring? She'd never bathed openly in nature like that before. Was it sanitary? Hopefully more sanitary than stewing in her own grime for several days straight. But besides that, the idea was exotic and…slightly intimidating. What if someone (Davion) saw her?

However, knowing Jareth would be a sentinel from hell where Davion and her privacy were concerned, she decided not to place much stock in that worry. Instead, she smiled at him.

"Cool. That sounds exciting," she said.

"Oh, it does. Doesn't it?" Mariella chimed in, looking around Andeas to speak to Amara. Amara perked up as well, all smiles.

"Indeed, Lady Marie. It's been ages since I've swam. It sounds just delightful!" she replied.

The two girls giggled to each other while Andeas sat contentedly between them. Roldan may have glanced up from his book, but his sudden interest went unnoticed.

Davion leaned up and resituated his posture, his attention shifting, briefly, away from Sarah and onto the girls.

"Perhaps we might all go together, then?" he suggested. Amara paused, her smile freezing awkwardly in place. Mariella just pursed her lips, arching one very disapproving eyebrow.

"Perhaps if you offered it in a less crass way, my lord," she said, not meeting him in the eye. "We're not in Fyrn anymore, remember? But, even I must say, your enthusiasm today is unusually transparent. Did you learn nothing on the ride here? You may need to try a little harder to win over women who actually possess a shred of self respect."

Her scolding was as pompous as her posture, which was unusual for her —especially when it came to Davion. Sarah observed the three of them more closely, now wondering what kind of conversations had taken place in their carriage that would make even Marie reach her limit with her precious lord's antics. Then she regarded Amara, who looked thoroughly resistant to the offer. Mm…maybe she should have made him ride with Roldan after all.

But, because to concede any matter would tarnish his princely pride, Davion shook it all off with a mere wave of his hand.

"Oh please, don't act as if you wouldn't positively revel in the experience," he said to Marie, haughtily, then took another sip of his wine. "The waters in Fyrn are always so hot. It might be nice to catch a bit of a chill with you."

Mariella, doing her best not to be won over, pursed her lips to cover her smirk and looked to the side, shaking her head.

"You are incorrigible, my lord," was all she could say. Davion smiled wider, seeing through her veneer.

"Indeed I am," he replied, then leaned back with satisfaction. "Especially now, being smothered by my sister's absolutely delicious scent over here."

Sarah's eyes widened as her head slowly turned to him. Goddamnit. She'd forgotten about that again.

"S…smothered?" she repeated, tersely. Then she gulped. "Is that why you're being so much more…yourself, right now?" she asked. Davion peered over at her and smiled ear to ear.

"It is," he said, cheekily. And, for some reason, Sarah felt her cheeks flush. "I am just so, so happy. You're not even doing anything and I can barely contain myself," he went on, then shifted to draw closer to her over the arm of his chair. "And since you're being so gracious, I should also mention that I have a very low tolerance for such scents. How fortunate for you. It may be my only weakness."

His voice was slightly hushed as if it were some secret…that he had no problem whatsoever in sharing with everyone else. Sarah could practically feel Jareth rolling his eyes beside her.

"Weakness?" she repeated.

"Mhm. You could have me wrapped around your pretty little finger, if you so wanted," Davion said, his eyes on her sharpening, just a tad. "—Have me do all sorts of delectable, degrading things…Ella knows. Don't you?" He tilted his head towards Marie when asking.

"Quite," Mariella replied, pointedly. "My lord Davion is renowned for his utter unfettering when it comes to gestating fae. He becomes incredibly silly—like a child, really."

"Or a dog," Jareth interjected, grumpily into a cup. Sarah wondered when the heck he'd even acquired it.

"Now that's not a nice way to put it," Davion chided, frowning before sitting up properly in his seat. "I simply…enjoy the effects Nature intended me to have." He tossed a hand about, then looked at Sarah. "Your body is commanding me to serve it, incessantly, right now," he said. Sarah gaped. "It begs me to come closer and feel your warmth, to cherish it. If I could, I would have you curled up in my lap until the wee hours of morning —and even then, it would be a trial to let you go."

The sensuality in his speech was as blatant as it was excessive. Sarah had no real reaction to it. She just stared at him, then turned sharply to Jareth who, frustratingly, did not seem to care. She arched a sharp brow at him.

"You just going to sit there and let him wax poetically at me like that?" she asked. Jareth shrugged.

"Why not? I see no reason to stop him," he retorted, taking a longer drink between sentences. "He's making a fool of himself well enough."

Then a scoff from Davion.

"It's funny that you think that would insult me," he said, snappily, then crept over the arm of his chair to inch himself closer to Sarah, again. Sarah sat guardedly as she waited for his next flamboyant remark. "I am a fool. I admit it," he said. "All I care about right now is being close to you."

Sarah felt her lip curling back but, not wanting whatever expression she could feel forming on her face to offend him, forced it into tight submission. Her eyes flickered down Davion's form and up again, remarking on the stretch of his grin and the droop in his eyelids. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was drunk. Then she conceded that perhaps he was, just not on alcohol. An awkward tension began to slither up her shoulders as she watched the visceral effects her mere scent could have on a fae, first hand, and she subsequently realized why Jareth may have found the idea of her trying to influence Braxton by such means to be provocative. She wasn't sure how she felt about all that now, seeing Davion figuratively drool all over himself like a cat bathing in a fresh pile of catnip. Alas, there wasn't much she could do about it besides leave.

"Is it…really that bad?" she asked, with a slight wince, and fleetingly glanced around at all the others, searching for anyone's insight. She'd been flattered by Jareth's reactions to her and amused/made awkward by Roldan's, but the fact was that both of those men possessed worlds more discipline than Davion. Comparing the three of them made her realize just how instinctive a thing this whole pheromonal compulsion business really was. That, while they looked mostly human, they were actually much closer to animals —at least in this regard. Animals she could easily tame at present. Control. And she actually…felt kinda bad about it.

While it was fun and empowering crippling Jareth in the bedroom, it wasn't exactly fair to the other women in their group to have to suffer the fallout of Davion's particular brand of eccentricity. If he was being influenced by her scent and she avoided him…would he unconsciously project it onto Marie and Amara? Judging by Amara's physical reactions to Davion thus far, she was highly suspicious the answer was yes. She frowned at Davion, acknowledging that, this time, his crude behavior and crawly hands might not actually be his fault. She felt a sudden need to clear the air when stating, "I'm not trying to control you, just so you know."

Her frown on him was sincere, pitying even. But it seemed she was the only one taking the matter so seriously. Davion's lips pressed together in a biting smirk, holding himself back. Then he murmured, with a low rumble, "Mm…but maybe I want you to."

That was not the proper response, in Sarah's opinion, and only validated her concerns. Her brows knitted tightly as indecisive thoughts fought for dominance. Then she looked over at Jareth again, seeking silent approval of the choice she was about to make. The way he met her gaze told her he couldn't care less how the conversation turned, so she just looked back at Davion again.

"If…I let you stay near me, will you calm it down with the others?" she asked, convincing herself that martyrdom was her sole motivation. The way his eyes brightened as he sat up in surprise, the way his fixated attention on her filled with glee, the immense flattery she took from all that, it had nothing to do with anything. Not at all.

Davion placed a hand to his heart, made near breathless by her offer.

"On pain of death," he said, without a blink. Sarah, still frowning in uncertainty, sighed and offered out her hand.

"Then fine," she said, still trying to be stern. "Just…don't be weird about it."

Davion's eyes flicked down to her open palm, bridging the space between them in wait, then back up again. His brow twitched in skepticism but, soon enough, his smile turned gallant. Not sparing a second more of hesitation, he reached out and clasped her hand, the look in his eyes turning towards complete sublime. His smile grew and grew as he stared at their joined hands, looking more happy than she'd ever seen him.

"I'll do my best, sister," Davion said, tempering his excitement as much as he physically could. "Thank you."

She watched him lick his lips as he looked away from her, yet the calmness by which he spoke and reclined back in his seat could not be misconstrued. The animal had been sated, it seemed, as he no longer fixated directly on her and instead appeared content to lose himself in the flicker of the fire ahead. All the while he held her hand firmly. Sarah shrewdly peered around at everyone else, looking to see if she should question her actions, but there was no judgment to be seen and, if any awkwardness existed, it came solely from herself. Stiffly, Sarah followed Davion's lead and looked face forward, pretending to be casual despite how clammy she could already feel her captive hand becoming. Her eyes slanted to Jareth on impulse, finding him silently watching her. She thought maybe, from his passive expression, that he might disapprove but…it didn't feel that way. A sympathetic smile twitched the corners of her mouth but, rather than reassure her, he only looked away. The dismissal was nearly enough to deflate her—until she caught a faint glimpse of the dastardly smirk, purely at her expense, that he was so obviously trying to conceal.

---

The remainder of the evening passed surprisingly smoothly. Davion's energy calmed down significantly, although that hadn't exactly made things easier for Sarah. Everyone else, maybe. But not her.

He held her hand like a grade school boy the entire time they sat beside the fire, unreserved in his expressions of mirth over the fact. Casual conversations were engaged by the rest, the minutes passing quicker than expected. Dinner was eventually served in the tents, away from buzzing insects that had since roused with the setting sun. Davion, naturally, stuck to her side like glue the moment she stood from her chair —all smiles and silent glee. She was curious of the way Jareth allowed it, saying nothing in either protest or mockery of his brother. In fact, he'd been mostly quiet as well. She kept eyeing him, feeling guilty as if she was doing something wrong by entertaining what was, essentially, Davion's obscene acts of flirting. But there was no jealousy or resentment to be found. She wondered if this was more of a cultural thing rather than an actual lack of possession on Jareth's part. And that's when she remembered what he'd said earlier that day, about gouging out Davion's eyes. He hadn't said not to touch her at all, just not to do so without her permission.

Oh, the irony.

The sky was pitch black and the fire roaring, the full entourage now seated in a circle around it with dinner well and done. Drinks were heavy in hand and the talks gained ease and good cheer. Sarah abstained, of course, happy enough that such comradery was able to exist among them at all.

Davion had scooted his chair as close to Sarah's as possible, engrossed in the telling of tall tales that seemed to be meant only for her ears. Sarah humored him by nodding along, regularly sparing Jareth an affectionate glance lest he feel left out.

Amara, across the circle from Sarah, watched the three of them keenly —like some foreign nature study. Marie was speaking to Andeas about Aboveground trivialities while Roldan gazed at the stars, seated to Amara's left. She, however, sat studiously, her sly attention eventually shifting off of Sarah and Davion to Andeas, as an observation was made.

"Excuse me, Dr Andrews?" she asked, softly. Andeas turned his head away from Marie to address her.

"Yes, lordess?"

Amara's brows furrowed a little.

"Pardon me for being forward, but…something has just occurred to me that I'm finding curious."

Andeas, sensing her inquisitive intent, sat himself up and faced her fully.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked. Mariella, now equally curious, poked her head around Andeas to await Amara's question as well.

Amara's eyes darted to Davion and back again quickly, her question hesitant on her tongue.

"I was just wondering…and I hope this doesn't offend you. But…why does it seem like you are the only male in our group not affected by Queen Sarah's scent?"

Her brow was now thoroughly scrunched and Mariella blinked, doe-eyed. Apparently the thought had never occurred to her and she deftly looked at Andeas for his reply. Even Roldan tuned in, his side cast gaze observing from his periphery. Amara licked her lip, continuing.

"I mean…Roldan has done an excellent job of managing it, but he still gets flustered—" and she turned around to give him a quick, non-judging glance. He scowled. "And the effect is obvious on His Majesty and…Prince Davion over there…" She tried not to draw up her shoulders when mentioning Davion. "It's just making me incredibly curious. You are a doctor…who tends to pregnant women, exclusively, intimately. Shouldn't…you be just as if not more affected? Or have your years of work given you an immunity?"

Mariella blinked rapidly.

"An immunity? Is such a thing even possible?" she asked, looking sharply over at the three royals, trapped within Davion's bubble, then back again. "I know it's possible to acclimate to a single scent, if surrounded by it long enough, but one can always be coerced should the host will it." She glanced down contemplatively, a finger coming to her lip. Andeas, not yet given the chance to actually respond, lifted his brows in surprise, although he felt none of the headiness that had fallen over the rest of them. He looked between the two ladies, then smiled bashfully.

"Actually…it's not possible," he said, a sudden awkwardness cocking only one end of his smile. "There is no way for a fae to gain a legitimate immunity, at least not through my experience."

Amara tilted her head at him confusedly.

"Then…how have you been managing?" she asked. Andeas's eyes averted briefly. Almost like…he was ashamed.

"It's simple, really," he said, with a shrug. "I had my glands removed."

Mariella sat to attention, nearly drawing back in what might have been outrage.

"What?" she asked, eyes widened. Andeas laughed uncomfortably, apparently expecting Marie's severe reaction. And, while she was the only one to express an audible outburst, both Amara and Roldan mirrored expressions of concern —even the too-cool-for-school Hand of the King now paying full attention. Andeas tried to play it all off casually, although it was clear he was now avoiding meeting anyone in the eye.

"Heh, yes…interesting story, that is," he said, glancing down and scratching the back of his head. "I was definitely overzealous when I won my proposal to study in the Above. I didn't consider the nature of the business I was getting into. Or I guess…I should say I was ignorant of human nature." Another self-deprecating smile, that time directed down at the contents of his half-filled cup. Both Amara and Marie frowned. "I didn't have any experience with humans native to the Above, so I didn't realize that they could excrete the same pheromones as us or that…they have absolutely zero awareness of or innate ability to control them. The first time I went to the Aboveground, I nearly died from overexposure —almost immediately." He laughed, indicating he was in fact exaggerating…maybe. Regardless, it was humor that went over everyone's head —all three of them staring intently and hanging on Andeas's next word. "I managed to navigate schooling well enough by acclimation alone, but the first time I set foot in a clinic…well…my sabbatical was nearly over then and there," he added, then glanced at Marie.

"Hospitals and clinics in the Aboveground traffic hundreds of individuals a day," he explained, then looked at Amara. "Which meant that I, whose discipline was fertility, was surrounded by a convoluted soup of totally unrestrained gravid pheromones no matter which way I stepped. I nearly lost my mind. Apparently male fae can actually go feral…if stimulated enough."

That last comment held a certain ominousness that did not go unnoticed. Mariella gradually eased back, looking more disturbed than the other two combined.

"So what did you do?" she asked. Andeas looked at her with an impulsive smile.

"I panicked, of course," he said, chipperly. "I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to continue my research and all the faith His Majesty had put in me would not only be wasted, but become a humiliation on himself. I temporarily changed my area of focus to my own anatomy and physiology, hoping to learn exactly how we transmit and receive those signals, and subsequently how I might control it."

"And you…discovered glands?" Amara asked. Andeas turned to face her.

"Yes. It's very interesting, really," he said. "There are machines in the Aboveground that allow you to glimpse into various layers of another person's body without cutting it open."

Amara's posture perked up excitedly.

"What, really?" she asked, a rise in her voice. Andeas nodded.

"Mhm. I had my entire body thoroughly imaged and then compared it to that of a human. We are mostly the same, in our anatomy. Although I did note some key differences. One being the existence of glands in my face." And he pointed to either side of his nose, just below his eyes. Then he added, "In all of our faces, really. Except Sarah's." His head bobbed in Sarah's direction. Amara's concern gave way to scientific intrigue the more he spoke. The brightness in her eyes was motivation for him to keep explaining. "After some more clumsy testing, I figured that was either the organ regulating our pheromones or interpreting them. I didn't exactly have any fae volunteers to find out for sure, so…I used myself as an experiment."

The way both Mariella and Amara's eyes suddenly widened was comical to him.

"Of course, I couldn't perform surgery on myself," Andeas continued, starting to feel more comfortable and thus leaning back in his seat. "I showed my scans to a surgeon who thought I'd either developed abnormal adenoids or some sort of tumor, and he was perfectly willing to remove them for me." He chuckled to himself again, that time in genuine amusement. "You can imagine how relieved I was that I'd removed the correct part of my body. A part of me was worried it would be a matter involving the brain," he said, laughing again. "After I recovered, I went back to the clinic and was able to carry on like anyone else."

A wiggle in Amara's brows painted her befuddled but impressed which, to a certain degree, was also reflected in Roldan. Marie, however, blinked in disconcertion.

"But…does that mean that you can no longer recognize scents at all?" Mariella asked, something of distress underlining her voice. Andeas, not registering it, turned to look at her candidly.

"Actually….no," he said, with some sense of intrigue. "I can still recognize pheromonal scent perfectly and even interpret it. I simply…am no longer affected by it. It's very interesting, really." Then he shot Amara and Roldan a quick, playful glance. "The rest of my nose also still functions properly. Thank goodness."

The pout on Mariella's lips worsened but she didn't say anything back right away. In fact, she looked deeply perturbed, too thoughtful to choose any one reply.

"Oh wow. That's amazing," Amara interjected. "I had no idea our anatomy was different from humans on the inside. It makes me wonder what other differences there are."

"But, Jonathan—"

The strain in Mariella's interruption hit its mark that time. Everyone looked at her, Andeas's focus becoming particularly pointed. She was frowning down at her lap, brows drawn tight together. "How can you say that so nonchalantly?" she asked, looking up at him gravely. "Weren't you upset?"

Andeas blinked at her innocently.

"Hm? No," he readily replied. "No, it didn't bother me at all."

Mariella blinked rapidly and she bit on her lips, latent anxiety making her fidget in her chair.

"But…you're saying you can no longer communicate with your own kind in our most sacred way. Not fully. You can't…scent your mate or experience the intimacy of an exchange." And her brow turned down dolefully, her gaze locking brazenly onto his when she asked, "That doesn't…break your heart?"

A modicum of stiffness held Andeas's posture, caught off guard by her sincerity and apparent, if not sudden, expression of anguish. He opened his mouth but didn't speak right away, stumbling over various responses to think of one that would not make her frown become any worse.

"I suppose…I may come to regret my choice one day," he said, tentatively. "—should I find a partner I long to have that experience with. But, at that moment and even now, I stand by it. My research is too important. I hope to change our world for the better, permanently. I didn't expect the knowledge I've gained to come free. Some sacrifice must be made."

There was zero uncertainty in his edict. In fact, he sounded proud. While Mariella was relieved by it in one sense, she was saddened even more in another. He clearly did not yet comprehend the gravity of his sacrifice and, though she barely knew him, knew enough to feel a genuine sense of loss on his behalf. However, it wasn't her place to uproot his conviction or question it any further than she already had, so she decided to let the matter go. She only hoped to convey an equitable positivity —despite knowing full well that this was a revelation that would haunt her for some time.

Tension remained in her expression as her eyes briefly flickered down.

"I see. That is very admirable of you. I understand…" she said.

Amara, on the other hand, found the whole situation perfectly poetic.

"Yes, that is a little sad—" she said, her nonchalance bulldozing over Mariella's quiet state of morose. "—but, if you are content with it then I support you, Dr Andrews. How noble of you to give away so much in the pursuit of knowledge. I hope you're properly recognized for it one day."

She nodded her head deftly, successfully saving the mood from turning awkward or dour. Andeas regarded her with a small smile of gratitude. And, while Roldan had remained wordless throughout the whole thing, a measure of respect could be gleaned from the way he now scrutinized Andeas. He did not know the man at all but, to cut out the part of himself that—in essence and beyond magic—made him fae, in dedication to his scholastic pursuits and the betterment of his people, was telling of both his character and value as a Goblin asset.

However, unaware that Roldan was harboring such flattering thoughts, Andeas could only respond to Amara. He dipped his head in a formal gesture.

"Thank you," he said. "I appreciate your flattery."

"Oh, it's not flattery. I mean it genuinely," Amara was quick to say. Then she bounced in her seat, feeling suddenly dramatic. "Ah…but now that we're talking about it, I'm feeling a little giddy," she said, snickering to herself whilst averting her eyes to the stars. "I've never shared my pheromones with another person before. My parents made a very clear point of that. Still, it's something I've always longed for."

An airiness in her tone carried the sentiment far up to the heavens. She, of course, thought nothing of it —nor did anyone. Well…maybe one…

"It is?" Roldan asked, his first utterance in an hour and an intrusive thought that he immediately regretted letting slip. Amara looked over at him sharply, her invasive gaze pinning him with embarrassment.

"Of course," she said, steadfast. "The mere notion is just so romantic, isn't it? And besides…" And she looked away from him to gaze longingly at the fire. "...the person whom I do end up choosing will undoubtedly be the love of my life —so how could I not look forward to that day?"

Giddiness lulled to a gentle state of introspection as she gazed into the fire, the soft curl of her lips in profile becoming a serene image to Roldan. He felt his tension leave him as swiftly as it'd come, although now there were too many thoughts in his mind to feel any sense of tranquility. He found himself wondering more about her, about her past, about her experiences and preferences. She seemed innocent, but 75 years was still a long time to be saving oneself —if not for pheromonal exchange then certainly for sex. Not that he should talk. While his sexual portfolio was pages longer than he'd care to admit, he'd never once in all his life exchanged even a hint of pheromones. It made him wonder…no, no. Enough of that.

He concealed his audacious thoughts expertly behind the rim of his chalice, mumbling out an inscrutable, "I see…" in response.

Eager for the change in topic, Mariella jumped on the end of Roldan's reply.

"You are just too precious, Amara," she said, her smile faint as she tried to bury her feelings over the previous conversation. "But you're completely right. It is such a dreamlike experience. I've no doubt it will be everything you hope it will be."

Amara leaned forward to respond to Marie, perhaps even get a little nosey and ask about her own experiences, but she never got to. The moment she opened her mouth a sudden outburst from across the fire stole her thunder. Everyone's heads turned on reflex straight to Davion—

"What?! Why not?!" He'd called out, practically shouting at Jareth with a pitifully trapped Sarah sitting in between. The rest of the gang sat up to attention.

"What do you mean, why not? What makes you think you have the right to even ask such a thing?" Jareth replied, clearly irritated and looking a tad murderous. Sarah's shoulders were scrunched and there was a deeply strained smile on her face. Apparently she'd been trying to mediate something during all that chatter and had failed miserably.

Davion's jaw dropped open, obnoxiously baffled. He huffed and puffed up in his seat.

"She said I could stay close to her," he said, his expression twisting in offense. "Why are you getting in the way?"

Jareth arched a brow at his brother and leaned forward in his chair.

"Hm? Want to try asking that again?" he hissed.

Sarah raised her hands and clenched her eyes tightly closed.

"Okay, just—chill. Everyone just tone it down a notch. Please?" she said, her command devolving to a blatant plea by the end. And the watchful eyes of the crowd grew curiouser and curiouser.

Davion looked away from Jareth to address Sarah, his anger forcefully replaced by a false smile.

"Sarah. Love. Dearest. My most magnanimous queen. Please, please disregard my brother's blatant cruelty and say yes?" he asked, as desperately as could ever be described. And then the other shoe dropped. "Where else am I going to sleep tonight if not with you?"

The twinge of alarm that had sprouted among the others fell dead along with Davion's comment, the realization of what the fuss was all about being entirely anticlimactic. Oh, was the shared consensus.

Jareth rolled his eyes dramatically.

"As I said earlier, you can bunk with either Roldan or Andeas—"

"No. Absolutely not," Davion protested, cutting Jareth off mid-sentence while shaking his head like a child. "There's no way in blazing Hell I am doing that." His nose crinkled at the thought as a sneer threatened to breach his so very brattish face. He'd even let go of Sarah's hand to obstinately cross his arms over his chest. Sarah grew more worried by his behavior, not having any idea how to calm the two of them down.

"Davion…seriously, is this really such a big deal?" she asked, tentatively reaching out as if to gentle him, although the gesture never made it. Davion, so thoroughly ruffled by the rejection, even turned his face away from her.

"Big deal? This is even bigger a deal than who to ride with. I know you're new to the position, Sarah, so I will be forgiving. But I was born a prince. I am accustomed and entitled to certain liberties. One of which being the dignity of not taking rest with the serfs."

No one said anything for a moment. Sarah, caught somewhere between panic and irritation, wanted to weigh her options before saying anything rash. The momentary silence was heady and full of defiance. And then Davion's eyes slanted back to her slyly.

"But I suppose…" he started to say, leadingly. "If it is so unacceptable for you…I could always wiggle between the ladies?"

He arched a brow then glanced across the way, giving the two women gaping back at him an impish grin that was itself meant entirely for Sarah. Sarah saw through his manipulation easily, however, her own expression falling flat.

"Yeah, get that thought out of your head right now because that's not happening either," she said, firmly, and closed her eyes in exasperation. Davion scoffed, looking back at Sarah with a pseudo sense of hurt.

"Then where shall I go?" he asked, like there were simply no other options. "There may be carriages but there's not enough bunks to go around—"

"Sleep outside then," Jareth snapped, so thoroughly done with the conversation. Davion shut his mouth and glared at his brother, holding back many a nasty comment.

"Jareth. I thought we were passed this," he chose to say instead, trying to win his way by different tactics. "Is this your way of punishing me for taking up all of Sarah's attention tonight? You really are a petulant bump on a log, aren't you?"

Jareth refused to dignify his plight by crossing gazes, so chose to dismissively stare into his cup instead. It was certainly a more appealing companion, by that point.

"The chair you're sitting in should be cozy enough for a cretin like you," he said. "Be thankful for what you've been given."

Davion stared daggers at Jareth, his tongue pressing hard to the back of his teeth.

"Because that is a mantra either of us has ever lived by," he said, cattily, and rolled eyes. By the time they landed on Sarah again, they were rounded like a puppy's. "Sarah, please. I will legitimately beg you if I must," he said, with a seemingly genuine imperativeness. "I told you, all I want is to be near you. I will writhe out here on my own. I promise, there will be no mischief to speak of —in or out of dreams."

The way his eyes had widened while he pleaded his case felt desperate to Sarah. Truly. It was hard for her to believe, but trying to question it gave her a crawly feeling. He was hanging on her next word and, whether it was the awkward amount of pressure she was now under or just the intensely expectant round of stares, she was also starting to feel pretty bad about it. Sarah, realizing that his unabashed, maudlin begging was actually winning her over, did her best to hold strong. Davion, however, sensed her conviction wavering and persevered.

"I suppose…I can put together some makeshift bed out of these chairs and pillows, but why should I?" he asked, misconstruing his own ego as something worthy of sympathy. "I am royalty. I have rights. One of which should be sleeping on a real mattress, bathing in the scent of my kin brooding in your miraculous womb. Is that really so much to ask? Really, Sarah, where is the harm?"

Sarah blinked dumbly, with no response whatsoever. Jareth growled in impatience.

"The harm is that you are a habitual liar," he said, sternly. Davion scowled at him.

"Not where she is concerned. Not anymore," he said, then looked at Sarah again, lovingly. "My oath is absolute, yes. But your scent takes me beyond it," he explained, subduing some of the passion in his voice. "I am not capable of harming or even just displeasing you in any capacity at the moment. Please. You'll hardly even know I'm there."

The strain in Sarah's expression was as foreboding as it was strong. Then she asked, without admitting that she was even entertaining the idea at all…

"...and where exactly would Jareth sleep in this arrangement?"

Davion's brows lifted, titillated that she was now showing some interest.

"Next to you, obviously," he replied. "One brother for each side. You'll be nice and snug that way. And…I suppose, in the impossible event that I cannot keep my word, your dutiful —if not exhaustingly overbearing— protector over there will be within arm's reach of blasting me to bits." Then he leaned back, a modicum of confidence replacing his previous fright. "It's perfectly foolproof, really. And completely innocent — so long as you desire it."

Back under the spotlight, Sarah looked guardedly between Davion and Jareth, then regretfully at the rest of them still baited with breath. She was getting both uncomfortable and bored now. A foreboding feeling was steadily building in the back of her mind but, honestly, if it would shut him up…

"...fine," she ended up saying, worn down by his incessancy and already scowling.

She expected a stark interjection from Jareth to follow suite, but was left bereft of any. She looked over to catch him rolling his eyes, but he did not undermine her. Davion, meanwhile, became positively ecstatic, steepling his hands together in anticipation. Sarah, however, quick to subvert what would assuredly be a jubilant outburst from him, narrowed her eyes and pointed a stern finger his way.

"But I will say it again, no funny business, Davion," she said, looking so gosh dark serious. "—or I'll give Jareth the green light to remove your hands."

She expected him to take her warning to heart. Instead, he lunged forward and caught her in a bear hug around the shoulders, holding her so tightly she actually lifted out of her seat.

"Oh, please, do threaten me even more," he said, in exaltation, burying his face in her hair while his hands adoringly crept all over her. "Scold me. Humble me. I just do not care. You've made me so happy."

Sarah, having reacted quick enough to make her arms a shield between their torsos, craned her neck back in search of aid. She couldn't see Jareth, but Roldan was glowering at them. Amara and Andeas looked abashed, while Mariella grinned like a git. Ugh. And she sighed deeply, finding no escape and resigning herself to Davion's ridiculous embrace. Her eyes focused on the firelight as she internally prayed that the night would pass as quickly as her resolve just had…

---

Sarah sat stiffly on her knees, in the center of the bed, hands ceremoniously pressed to her thighs as if waiting for some deviant command. Her eyes were shifty and her mouth was clamped shut, having absolutely no idea how to navigate the predicament she'd put herself in.

Jareth was in front of her, sitting at the edge of the mattress with his back slightly to her as he worked on removing his boots. She could see the snarl on his profile and practically feel the silent grumble no doubt churning his thoughts towards midnight strangulation. He hadn't said much since she made the decision for the both of them, which she found odd. But, if she asked, she figured he would probably snap something about this being her authority as a wife or a woman or a queen —or whatever. And, rather than stir an already brimming pot, she chose to keep on keeping her mouth shut and stand by the decision instead.

Her eyes roamed slyly to the right.

Davion was also there, on the bed, about a foot away as he also worked on undressing. The fact that he was closer to her than Jareth worried her for some reason, but maybe she was overthinking it. A couple of harsh thunks could be heard as Jareth's boots hit the floor of the carriage. Each one made Sarah flinch.

Choosing heavy silence, Sarah looked down over herself as she nibbled on a lip. She was already dressed in her pajamas—given her privacy first and foremost to get changed without anyone's prying eye. As she stared at her cottony pj pants and incredibly unsexy button down shirt, she thanked Gaia, God, and Alvra alike for the random impulse she'd felt to pack them. Her other options were nightgowns and skimpy, billowy silk shorts —and there was no way in blazing Hell she was going to forsake her nether region to that kind of vulnerability.

She gulped and steadied her nerves. Bashfulness aside, it was a confirmed fact that Davion would plunge into a brutal death should he fuck with her again. She kept reminding herself of that while watching him undress from her peripheral.

He'd taken off his jewelry and arm bands first, then the vest that was already barely hanging onto his frame. She'd hoped he would have enough tact to keep his shirt on, but of course modesty was probably not a word he even knew. His boots joined Jareth's on the floor before he started pulling his shirt up and over his head. Sarah absently watched the muscles in his back work as more and more skin was revealed—until she saw the scars, that is.

She jolted out of her awkward petrification with a gasp that had both brothers looking back at her.

"What's wrong?" Jareth asked. His concern, while genuine, was not nearly enough to overpower the disgruntlement still twisting his face. Davion was also watching her, his shirt stuck to his arms as he halted mid-pull. Sarah's eyes darted between them, alight with alarm and sudden embarrassment.

"Oh. Um….nothing's wrong," she said, skittishly, then quickly peered at Davion again. "I just…forgot about the lashes…on your back…"

Davion blinked dubiously, then twitched —like he too had forgotten the memory of that crude affair. He smiled apologetically and lowered his arms.

"Ah…quite. They're still there, aren't they?" he asked, smiling. Sarah frowned. She could see them in their full glory now —roughly half-healed and rimmed in angry, red scar tissue. They looked painful, even after all that time, and much deeper than she remembered. Davion, oddly, actually came off as bashful the deeper she frowned at him. "Please, think nothing of it, love," he said, looking up at her again chipperly. "Once they finish healing, I'll remove those ugly scars in a snap."

Sarah's brows drew and she blinked at him hard. His vanity was not what she was concerned about. The fact that that was his priority and not the pain disturbed her. Of course…she had to remind herself that he was a bit atypical when it came to such things.

Jareth watched the exchange with a sharp eye, curious —or perhaps nervous— of how her reactions might come to impact himself. It was bad enough they had to share a bed together, but there was no way in any hell that he was going to apologize for enacting that much deserved punishment on his brother.

Seeming to read his exact thoughts, Sarah swallowed and licked her lip, unsure of what to say. For as much as she wanted to ask that Jareth absolve him of that archaic sentence, from the guarded look on his face right now, she knew that to do so would only bring tensions even closer to the breaking point. Picking her battles, she chose to let that one go —Davion didn't seem to mind it much in the first place.

"Do they…still hurt?" she asked. Davion shrugged.

"It gets a bit sore sometimes. But it's fine," he said, then finished removing his shirt and tossed it. "I told you, this would be my real punishment. Remember?" Then he fluttered his fingers and his trousers were magically replaced with sleepwear. Sarah was glad he hadn't opted to change them the old fashioned way.

Jareth turned further back and arched a brow at Davion.

"Yes…although I now realize the one on your face is conveniently missing," he said. Davion laughed and looked down at his lap.

"Well, obviously," he said, with little repentance. "Feel free to carve out a new one, though. I shan't resist."

Sarah's eyes shot to Jareth, vehement in her opposition.

"Please don't," she said, quickly. Jareth gave her a dangerous eye. "The wounds on his back are punishment enough. And I…really don't want to get our only set of sheets all bloody."

Hopefully they could all agree on that. Davion huffed with laughter and rolled his head towards her with a lazy smile.

"Quite, Sister. An excellent point," he said, then looked at Jareth. "At least wait until morning. Save your wife the trouble."

Jareth exhaled through his nose so roughly it was almost a growl.

"It would be wise not to test me tonight," he said, gravely, and then aggressively pulled off his own shirt. The pendant he wore beneath it remained, hanging low against his sternum. Sarah's knees pressed tight together. Great. Now they were both semi-naked.

Her eyes lowered awkwardly just as Jareth crawled up the bed and plopped himself to her left. He laid on his side, facing her, although his eyes were already closed in a scowl. She frowned in sympathy as she looked down at him, feeling bad that he had to suffer through the situation purely by her whim. Maybe she should have taken his side…

"I wouldn't dream of it, brother," Davion said, only semi-sarcastically, and also laid himself down. He, however, was much more relaxed —lying supine with his hands behind his head and a pleasant look of relaxation.

And then it was her turn. Her turn to…do nothing. She just sat there, making herself as narrow as possible lest she touch either one of them. She looked around the cabin, dim lanterns illuminating the suddenly claustrophobic space, pondering her options…

Dear Lord, had she really agreed to this? Was she really about to make herself a chastity sword between those two insufferably similar and equally distempered faerie men? Ah…She kind of wished she had volunteered to sleep in the chair…

"Are you going to lay down?" Jareth asked. Sarah looked down to find him staring at her with one eye open. Sarah bit the inside of her lip. "If you're uncomfortable, say so," he continued, his eye narrowing on her knowingly. "He will leave."

Sarah pursed her lips in a frown but didn't speak right away. She knew that was true. If it came down to it, this didn't need to happen. She looked over at Davion again, weighing the choice, then down to her lap. Honestly…she was more concerned about their bickering and tension than her own chastity.

"No...no, it's fine," she said, shoving her reservations into some dark crevice of her mind and deftly laying herself down. She made sure to lay on her side, however, strictly facing Jareth.

Jareth watched her with annoyance, displeased by her commitment to that asinine situation, but he held his tongue nonetheless. And it wasn't even about Sarah being trapped near his brother. No, he was sure that, by now, she knew full well what she was getting into bed with —literally— and was now perfectly capable of dealing with it. What his annoyance actually stemmed from was the prospect of himself being trapped with him. He just didn't want to indulge him. Didn't want him on this trip, period. He was loud and insufferable and clingy, on a good day. And now he was hopped up on Sarah's scent. Being in such a small, closed off space was going to exacerbate his behavior even more and the mere idea of having to deal with it for the next few days, at the least, was enough to drive Jareth preemptively mad. But…if she was willing to give him the chance…he supposed he'd just have to wait until she sent him away on her own.

His eyes had closed as he thought, a low sigh escaping him. He was suddenly incredibly tired, but not the least bit sleepy. And then a little finger tapped him on the shoulder. He opened his eyes to see her staring at him, eye level.

"Hey," she said, softly. "Are you…going to be alright? If this arrangement is going to bother you this badly, we can figure something else out."

Jareth blinked. There was earnestness in her eyes, rounding them with focus reserved solely for him. He felt his irritation flee him under such a look. Completely. It could have been the will in her scent, or maybe all he'd been wanting was his own feelings acknowledged. He supposed it didn't matter. His features softened as he regarded her, then he reached out to touch her cheek.

"Don't worry about me," he said, soothingly stroking the side of her face. "I will be fine —so long as he shuts up."

"I can still hear you, you know," Davion piped in from over Sarah's shoulder. She tensed at first but quickly relaxed, then craned her neck back to look at him, too.

He was propped up with his jaw resting on the heel of his hand, already giving her a bored and impatient look.

"You're all so dramatic. As I keep saying, I just want to be near you," he said, flatly. "Your scent is my real desire, not your body."

Sarah's expression flatlined.

"Gee, thanks," she replied. Davion laid his head back down and sighed.

"Would you rather the opposite?" he asked, closing his eyes. "Being cocooned in here with you is already making me drowsy. I'd like nothing more than to drift off under the stupor of your wiles. So go on and canoodle with your husband. I will be here, minding my own—like a good boy."

He sounded honest for the first time all day. Sarah frowned.

"Davion…" she said. But then Davion snapped his fingers, cutting her off from saying anything more, and all the lights went out.

"There. Now it's bedtime," he said, sternly. "May we stop all this fretting and sleep?" And then he peeped one taunting eye open. "Unless, of course…"

Sarah's jaw tightened and she swiftly turned back around, huddling into Jareth's chest.

"No. No, sleeping is good. Let's do that," she said, a tad frantically. She heard Davion huff in satisfaction behind her, but that was it. Then she felt movement from Jareth.

"Yes. Let's. The sooner this infernal night ends, the better," he said, leaning up to grab the hem of a blanket crumbled at their feet and then pulled it over himself and Sarah. Davion, miffed, tugged the spare corner over for himself. When Jareth laid back down, he curled an arm under Sarah's pillow, pulling her in possessively and thus as far away from Davion as was physically possible. It was an objectively uncomfortable position for her, but she didn't resist. Instead she nuzzled her face against his chest, using his shoulder as a support, and tried her best to stop thinking about the additional man at her back.

She failed.

The mere awareness of Davion's proximity was sending tingles all over her back, the possibility of either of them rolling over and touching at any point keeping her on edge. Minutes passed and she grew frustrated with her own thoughts as she struggled to relax enough to fall asleep. It didn't help that the combined body heat of three persons under the same blanket was quickly cooking her alive. She scowled. Tensed. Curled up against Jareth even more —and then she felt his hand, Jareth's, placing itself firmly over her shoulder. He squeezed her with intention, the silent dialogue passing between them perfectly.

It told her to calm down. That it was fine. That she was safe and he would protect her. She was able to exhale slowly after that and, before she knew it, drifted off to sleep.

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A/N— Stay tuned for part two! There's a...a lot of funness coming up next XD.