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?

42. It's Only A Dream

A/N— And here's part 2! P.S. —mind the story tags. The sexual content featured in this chapter may not be for everyone.

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Chapter 35, It's Only A Dream

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Sarah blinked painfully and lifted a hand to shield her eyes. The light of the sun was blinding, pure white, and stung her poor, unsuspecting corneas. The shade her hand provided helped her adjust, the image of her surroundings coming into focus through a haze of shimmering, hot air.

Heat on her skin tingled the hairs, making them stand on end as warmth radiated deep into her flesh and bones. The air was thick, torrid. It made her lungs heavier. She took in a deep breath and lowered her hand, the grimace etched into her face forcibly relaxing as she opened her eyes again.

The landscape was painted in tones of pale beiges, the sands of the desert lifting from the ground to swirl and dance along sparkling gusts of wind. Her lips dried as that same wind stole the moisture from them. She licked them wet but to no avail.

The Labyrinth was far off. At least, the parts that she knew. Now she stood at its edge, a place where the walls had crumbled and been buried beneath dunes of the finest sand. She looked around, but there was little to see for miles. Roughly cut clay blocks poked out from the ground, making a jagged line that she supposed was once a pathway. She took a few steps forward, then paused to lean against a broken half wall nearest her. She was tired. Winded. Fiercely parched. It was as if she'd been wandering for days—the desert's will baked into her skin and stealing what remained of her vitality for itself. She blinked slowly, steadying herself. She was dehydrated, she knew that much. She needed to find water. Soon.

She pushed off the stone and continued forward, along the remnant path and back to the Labyrinth. She was so far out that she couldn't even see the castle yet. She hoped…she'd find something to drink in time.

She wobbled in the sand, her footing made uneven as she sank into it with each step. She wore flats, and the sizzling grains of stone burned the tops of her feet as it swelled over them. She endured it and moved on. She needed shade. She needed something to drink.

She followed the path through ruins, passed broken statues and toppled walls, shattered doors and half buried archways. There wasn't a tree or overhang in sight. And the path…just kept on going.

She had no idea how long she walked, how long her feet dragged themselves, fighting inertia against the sand. She pulled herself along dried, petrified walls, gripping the dusty bricks with hands that were also dry and coarse. The tips of her fingers began to chafe. It was too hot. The haze of evaporation moving like waves up into the air obscured everything. Everything but the path. Everything but the dead and gone memories left abandoned all around her.

She sighed in relief at the first sign of change. Looking ahead, she saw the walls were reaching higher and the sand beneath her was thinning, giving way to dirt and then cobbled sandstone. The temperature cooled just enough to stand and she took a moment to breathe. However, the air that passed through her lungs only left her more parched. More in need. Her head was getting dizzy. She needed to find some place to rest. She needed help.

She blinked slowly as she looked around the various paths she could take. Everything looked the same. The same dull color, the same coarse texture, the same empty feeling. The castle was still hidden from her. She was just too far away.

She pressed on absently, not caring or even capable of caring which way she went. There was no strategy. No thoughts in her head at all. Only a need to press forward and drink.

Maybe she would die there, she thought. Maybe she should just lay down and go to sleep…

A crackle disturbed her —the light scattering of rocks close by. She looked up, searching for the source of the sound, but there was nothing. But —no, no. It couldn't be nothing. She'd heard nothing beyond the whistle of wind for so long. Something had made that sound. Something had moved. Maybe…it would help her.

She called out but no sound left her throat. It was too hoarse. Too dry. Just like everything else.

She forced herself to walk faster, to try and find whatever was waiting up ahead. She didn't know why, but she knew something was there. There just had to be.

She halted under an archway and arduously pulled herself around a corner. She was getting tired again. The haziness was permeating her mind. The shade of her eyelids was dark. It was her only respite, even as the searing light of the sun shone through them in a glowing red tone. But—no, no, it wasn't shade. It was a shape, darkened and out of place. A silhouette. She looked ahead and saw a statue. It was standing in the middle of the walkway, several paces ahead. It was blurry behind the quiver in the air. She narrowed her eyes on it to try and see it better —and then it moved. Then it walked out of sight.

Sarah opened her mouth and screamed, pleading for aid, but the only sound was the wind whipping through the maze. Her breaths turned ragged as she gritted her teeth and forced her feet to move as fast as they could. She was right. There was someone here. She just had to catch them.

She hobbled through a weak jog, hitting the walls and tripping over stones, but her only concern was for the figure. It had vanished beyond the next corner. She followed after it, refusing to be deterred even when she turned that corner and saw that nothing was there.

She traveled down the next pathway in pursuit, the walls steadily growing higher and higher as her feet moved faster and faster. She thought nothing of it. Nothing of anything. She just needed to find that person. She needed to.

She took another corner blindly, her breath hitching when she suddenly spotted him. And yes, it was a him. A man. A stranger standing with his back to her. He was tall, with a strong build, and was well dressed in long, golden robes. She called out again, but the wind stole her voice. The breeze traveled past her, curling up the ends of the man's long, blond hair. His head tilted, as if he'd heard something, as if the wind had delivered a whisper. Hope bloomed within her —and then he was gone again, walking straight out of view.

Sarah panted, exhausted, but she kept on moving. She was getting closer. She had to reach him. She had to. Just a little bit more.

She turned the same corner and found the next path shorter. At the end she could see a courtyard, stone tiles cut in a circular design. Sandstone guardians overlooked it and, at the center, was the man. Sarah inhaled sharply and ran.

The air was hot on her face. Bits of sand in the wind chafed her skin. But the walls had grown to eclipse her and the haze now thinned. She could see more clearly, see that the man she was chasing…was Jareth.

That same flare of hope roused again, more powerfully, and gave her the will to press on. Her feet became less heavy, her mind less clouded. The air was less weighty, but she was still so parched. Ravenous. Dying. She needed to get to him. He would help her. Why couldn't she call for him?

He was standing in the center of the courtyard, turned in profile. Maybe he just couldn't hear? Maybe he hadn't seen her yet. Was he lost, just like she? But…what was he wearing? She didn't recognize the clothes he wore. Didn't recognize the style or patterning. A sword was hitched to his hip. She didn't…understand why.

She was just about to enter the courtyard, about to reach out for him when he walked away, again. But no, not that time. She would not let him get away. She ran with all her might into the courtyard, but the place she entered was not what she had just seen.

She halted on a dime when the scenery suddenly changed and she thought she'd been taken from the Labyrinth altogether. Her skin shivered painfully as scalding heat was abruptly replaced with something cool and gentle —temperate. She turned all around, looking to the heavens and back as she oriented herself amidst chaos of lush greenery and vines. She was still in the courtyard, she realized, only now it was repaired. It was alive. Almost like….she's gone back in time.

Monumental trees shielded her from the sun's harsh rays, their roots climbing over the Labyrinth's walls, not in a way that intruded or destroyed, but complemented and supported it. She looked back down the path whence she came and saw that even that had changed. The walls in the distance were no longer buried. The sand was gone. The desert…had never been.

She blinked in confusion and turned around again. She could move freely now, the heat no longer constricting her. Her skin was no longer burned and her lungs filled easily. But her lips…her lips were still rough. Still dry. She was still so thirsty.

She looked around for Jareth but he was nowhere to be found. Above her, the stone statues were no longer weathered and nicked, but chiseled in perfect detail. The hooded figures loomed all around, standing over twenty feet high, their dark faces staring down at a golden vat that now stood in the center of the courtyard.

She approached it curiously. It had not been there before. It was large, maybe eight feet in diameter, and filled with something thick and black. Sarah placed her hands to the rim and sensed a vibration move up through her fingers. And it...was a good feeling. Safe. An accordance... The viscous fluid rippled, sharing her curious awareness, reflecting rainbow tones ever outward. Was it oil, she wondered? She didn't know. The pool was so black it carried no reflection. As she peered down into its depths, it appeared bottomless. A pit. A vacuum of utter nothingness. She was about to lean further in, into the pall—

A scrape against stone commanded her attention, yanking her back from the pull of the vat. She turned back sharply, her breath catching in her throat at what she saw.

There he was. That man. Jareth? He was standing behind her —in front of her, now. But he was still out of reach, still turned away. She focused on him harder and took a step forward. His clothes were so peculiar. Notable, for some unknown reason.—not particularly unlike the regalia she'd seen Jareth wear, yet somehow...unique. His robes were floor length, made of golden crushed velvet, cinched at the waist and embellished with a dark brocade trim. Clusters of rough cut gems were laid into the shoulders and sleeves, and he donned armored gloves and bracers on his forearms that matched his plated boots and the chest plate she could see glinting within the crevice that separated the halves of his robe. That detail confused the heck out of her, which was when her eyes narrowed to glimpse the edge of what she thought was chainmail spilling out over his collar. A tattered hood laid heavily on his shoulders, his hair falling longer down his back than she remembered it being. She could just barely make out the shape of his cheek bones while he looked away from her and she…she started to wonder…if it was even Jareth at all.

He was looking up at one of the statues. Before doing anything else, Sarah turned and followed his line of sight.

It was different from the others, not a stoic guardian at all. No, this one was elegant, was female. It stood taller than the others, looking downward into the vat with a serene look on its face. It was nude, but its body was artfully covered in actual vines that had grown to encapsulate it. Golden roses bloomed in the figure's open palms, blossoms and buds dotting down straggling vines that had tumbled over the woman's hands like bleeding stigmata, the kinked tendrils growing downward and left to freely sway in the open air. And, as Sarah's gaze lowered, she realized that one statue was the only thing reflected in the vat.

"...what is this place?" she murmured, and was shocked to hear her own voice. She gasped, her eyes widening, and turned back to Jareth. She could just barely see the crease at the corner of his eye. It was painful. Saddened. She didn't understand.

"Don't you know?" he asked. Only, it wasn't Jareth's voice at all. Then he turned. He looked at her, finally. And she realized what she had known deep down all along —that this man…this man was not Jareth.

The man looked at her brazenly with deep, searing anguish in his crystal blue eyes, boring into her being in some intangible way that made her heart beat harder. She opened her mouth but was too caught off guard. She didn't understand any of it. It was uncanny. He looked so much like Jareth —but at the same time, not enough, not at all. Was it…Thaelon? No. No, she'd seen his portrait in Fyrn. The person standing before her now…was someone she had never seen before.

"...who are you?" she asked, warily. The man turned so that his body faced her, the gold threads in his robes and the tarnished metal of his armor catching sharp highlights under the now calmer, muted sun. With his full portrait now on display, she thought he looked older than Jareth, weary, and the sadness in his eyes was felt deep within her own heart. She curled a fist close to her chest defensively, but the man made no moves towards her. He just stared, waiting. It put her even more on edge. "What do you want?" she asked.

The man stared at her for a long moment, expectant. And then…disappointment. She could feel his disappointment lowering over her even more poignantly than she saw his terse brow softening into a frown. The shift made her afraid. Made her take a step towards him rather than away. But, just when he opened his mouth to finally speak—

"Sarah?"

Sarah whipped around in a freight, startled by how close the sound of her name had been to her ear. Her eyes were livid as she stared at Jareth, the actual Jareth, who was staring back at her with a look of concern.

"Wh…what was—"

Her eyes veered back but the mysterious stranger was gone. Sarah blinked furiously, some strange disillusionment rapidly falling over her. When she looked back to Jareth, she was relieved that he was still there, still watching her, still worried.

She breathed easier and stood straighter. Something was not right. The smell of the air was fresh and crisp, like spring. And that was when she realized that she was in a dream.

"...Jareth?" she asked, collecting her bearings as she scrutinized the courtyard anew. It all looked so real. So vivid. She replayed her journey over in her mind, clarity coming to her in waves. Yes, yes, it was all a dream. This wasn't real. She was asleep in the carriage. But what…what did all this mean?

"Are you alright?"

Sarah blinked back to attention and gaped at Jareth. He was looking really worried now, dressed casually in his usual white shirt and black trousers. Her breathing settled as a feeling of safety flowed through. Yes. This was a dream. Her dream. She controlled it.

"Y-yes. I'm fine," she answered, then smacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. It was still as dry as cotton. She couldn't figure out how to make it go away.

Jareth tilted his head, a frown creasing between his brows.

"What are you doing out here? I nearly lost you," he said. Sarah, frowning just as deeply, looked over at him again slowly. Her gaze delved within him, deeply, and she soon realized…that Jareth was not there. The man in front of her was a figment. She was alone in her mind.

She wasn't sure if she should be relieved by that fact or worried.

"I…don't know how I got here," she admitted, looking conspicuously around the courtyard. "What is this place? I've…never seen it before."

Dream Jareth looked around as well. It was as if he was noticing their surroundings for the first time.

"I don't know. It looks like a shrine."

Sarah's face scrunched up in puzzlement, but she realized that Dream Jareth could not know more than her own self. He was not real, afterall, a part of her. She took a step back and pondered her next move.

"Have I…seen this in a book? A painting maybe?" she mused out loud.

"Perhaps. Does it matter?" Jareth asked. Sarah scowled.

"...probably not…" she muttered. Then she licked her lips again and sneered. Her mouth was so dry that her lips were sticking together.

"You were wandering for a long time," Jareth said. Sarah turned back to face him. "You're thirsty, aren't you?"

Sarah nodded but stood guardedly. She'd never dream-walked alone before, while in control at least. It was surreal. She'd always had at least one other consciousness with her, whether it be Jareth, her father, or Davion. She was actually feeling…a little nervous, distrustful of her own psyche.

"I am. I feel like I'm dying," she said, moving closer to him again. "I can't make the feeling stop. I don't know why. …what do I do?"

Should she just wake herself up? Why hadn't she done that already?

Jareth frowned at her, like he didn't know how to help. Then a sudden holler stole both their attention.

"Jareth?! Where did you go? Did you find her yet?"

Sarah's brows lifted at the sound of Davion's voice resounding from somewhere. Then, before she knew it, the vines opened to reveal another pathway —one Davion hurriedly entered from.

He entered the courtyard at a brisk pace, then skidded to a walk once he spotted them. His face lit up in joy at seeing her. But Sarah…Sarah was only getting more confused.

He joined them by Jareth's side, huffing and puffing as if he'd been running for some time. In that brief second, Sarah also noticed that he was dressed identical to Jareth.

"Goodness. It's about time. We've been all over this place trying to find you," he said. Sarah eyed him sternly.

"You have?" she asked, dissecting him —almost literally. He smiled at her, but she knew it was fake. Because he was fake. Both of them were figments. The real Jareth and Davion…were not with her.

Davion stepped towards her and lifted a hand to touch her mouth. She drew back slightly, but his eyes on her were full of concern.

"Your lips are chafed," he said, frowning. "You were lost in the desert too long."

That sounded ominous for some reason, but she couldn't figure out why. And then she shook her head and stepped back. She'd nearly forgotten—

"Who was that man I saw?" she asked, looking behind herself and back again. Jareth and Davion both stared at her confusedly.

"What man?" Jareth asked. Sarah blinked hard.

"The one who was standing there just now. Right before you showed up?" she asked and pointed to the spot in question. "He…led me here. I've never seen him before but…he looked just like you," she said, her voice falling to a mutter as she thought. "Like…you're related or something."

Jareth tilted his head, his concern for her evident on his face. It was a sentiment Davion mimicked.

"There's no one else here," he said, firmly.

A pout settled on Sarah's lips. That was a little unsettling. She supposed…she'd have to ask the real Jareth about it when she woke up. She looked forward at the two of them again, eyes shifting between them.

"Really? Are we sure?" she asked.

"Perhaps the heat was playing tricks on you," Davion suggested. "Delirium is common in these parts."

Sarah nearly scoffed but was too pensive to bother. Great. Now even her own subconscious was calling her crazy.

"Yeah…maybe…" she said, lost in thought. Her eyes roamed low, then they sprang back to theirs again. "Why are the two of you even here?" she asked.

Jareth arched a haughty brow at her.

"Well, apparently we were on your mind," he said, mildly offended —a look that became even more so when he slyly peered at Davion. "Both of us…"

Sarah felt her jaw grit as a totally needless blush flushed her face and her arms crossed defensively. But why she was feeling so embarrassed, she had absolutely no idea.

"Yeah, I'm kind of sandwiched between the two of you right now and it's an extremely awkward experience for me, so…"

Davion snickered at how cute she was being.

"Hn, you don't need to defend yourself, dear," he said, smiling devilishly. "We're all on your side in here, remember?"

Sarah paused her fussing and stared daggers straight at Davion. Right. They weren't real. She made them. Any teasing they did was self-inflicted and only a projection of a guilty conscience.

But she had no reason to feel guilty. This was…dumb.

"So…you've been looking for me?" she asked, eager for a deflection. "Well, here I am. Now what?"

She was curious to see what they would say —testing her own mind, as it were. Davion blinked and looked to Jareth, who arched a brow in return.

"I can't say. This is your dream, remember?" Jareth replied. Sarah let out a frustrated exhale.

"Fine. Then…tell me why I'm so thirsty. It's all I can think about," she said. Davion laughed.

"Well, probably because you have nothing to drink," he said, then reached out and grasped one of her hands. "Come. I know a place that may help."

Sarah arched one highly suspicious eyebrow, but the uncanny valley she found herself in was just too curious not to explore. Alas, that was the problem with dreams. Part of controlling them was accepting them, going with the flow rather than fighting against it. She could only wonder where the heck her mind would lead her and, considering she was in fact alone, she might as well take a leap of faith and trust herself.

She gripped his hand in return and nodded, allowing him to lead her back through the vines where he emerged —with Jareth at her side.

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Sarah walked slowly, her hand held tightly in Davion's, as she peered around the pathway. No longer surrounded by crude stones and dust, she found herself amidst tall hedges, sharply preened, and smelling of sap. It was a powerful scent. A false scent. It reminded her to keep on track. She felt a bit like Alice following the white rabbit as Davion tugged her along, his easy stride not quite matching her tentative gait. Jareth walked slightly behind her. He had to. The path was narrowing the further they walked.

Eventually the path became so narrow they could hardly pass through it. Sarah considered protesting, saying they should go back or try another way before the foliage closed in on them completely, but she didn't. She didn't know why. She just…didn't.

"Sarah?"

Sarah blinked but the voice had no source. She thought she felt a tug but, before anything else, felt her whole body being thrust into the bushes and plummet. She flailed but there was nothing to grab. She wanted to scream but there was no air. She just fell and fell and fell, her ears filled with the raucous sound of branches snapping and leaves bristling. Panic was about to set in. Was about to wake her. Jareth was gone. Dream Jareth. And everything was black—

She blinked again and the world returned, was steady, leaving her sitting alone on her butt in the center of another stone courtyard. She gasped and her chest heaved with frightened breaths, and she leaned up off her hands to stagger to her feet. Her eyes were wide and her pulse was furious, the adrenaline coursing in her veins making it difficult to orient herself. When she did, she realized the environment had altered once again. Now there stood no greenery or dessert, only stone. Wet, darkened stone.

She looked up, craning her head far back to glimpse the edge of the ravine she stood at the bottom of. Jagged cliffs encircled her, with no discernable exit in sight. The imposing landscape cast heavy shadows beneath. Although it was day time and not a cloud showed itself in the sky, the area was dark, cool, and murky. She licked her dry lips and ran her hands over her arms, soothing away the goosebumps that had spontaneously spread. It was not cold, but certainly colder than the dessert and even the glade she'd previously been in.

She heard the sound of her own breath and running water, and lowered her gaze to inspect her immediate vicinity. She stood at the center of a stone, circular platform, pieced together in slabs, that separated from the walls of the ravine, like it was floating. A red ring rimmed it —some unknown liquid coursing around and around with no escape. It came from the spout of a fountain. Or…monument. In front of her, carved out of the very cliffside itself in dark, slate-gray stone, was the largest statue yet. She had no idea how tall it was, over a hundred feet if she was to guess, and looked as dangerous as it did impressive.

It was the figure of a man, dressed in a tattered cloak of wet drapery. Its face was shrouded entirely, but she could easily make out the sharp shapes of its features. It held a ginormous pitcher in one hand, tilted, from which a waterfall of red flowed down to feed the pool that encircled her. The other hand was lifted, a black, almost sinister orb floating above its palm in some magical perpetuity. But, what she found the most awe-inspiring was its single wing that stretched far around the valley. Each feather had been cut in minute detail, fanning wide and magnificently across the cliffs. Sarah turned as she tracked it, the tips of the longest feathers coming full circle, almost touching the spot where its left hand held the orb —like they were pointing towards it, directing the eye just as fluidly as the strange red waters that were swirling around her. She blinked several times, needing to remind herself this was still a dream. And that place…was one she could never imagine.

Atop the platform, in front of her, stood a small, rectangular altar. It was decorated with runic carvings, but that was all. She approached it curiously, the echo of her footsteps and that of running water being the only sounds. She vaguely wondered what had happened to Jareth and Davion, but—

"You finally made it."

Sarah, about to touch her fingers to the altar's surface, flinched back and twirled on her heel. Jareth was standing to one side of her, Davion on the other. She looked at each of them feverishly.

"What?" she nearly snapped, too on edge and confused to do anything else. Jareth furrowed his brow.

"We've been waiting. You took forever, didn't you?" he said.

She blinked at him in disconcertion. Something…odd seated in her mind.

"...what are you talking about? We were just walking through the hedges. And then…something pushed me—"

"Ah. Naturally," Davion said, like he was humoring her. Sarah frowned at him next.

"I'm not lying," she said. Davion nodded.

"Of course not," he replied. She was about to retort but he stepped forward, prompting her to move out of the way. She turned to watch his movements and saw him focusing on the wide stream of liquid endlessly pouring into the ring, just behind the altar. Then he picked up a golden chalice that was sitting on it and began to fill it under the waterfall. "You're still thirsty, aren't you?" he asked. Sarah frowned.

"That cup…wasn't there a second ago," she said. Davion turned back to her nonchalantly.

"And?"

Dribbles of red trailed down the side of the chalice as it overflowed, making a mess all over Davion's hand before dripping down onto the altar. Sarah's lip curled back at the sight of it. It looked like blood.

"...what is that?" she asked. Davion tilted the cup towards himself and peered inside, then at her again.

"It's the thing that will quench your thirst," he said. "Don't you want it?"

Sarah took a step back. Something felt very odd and she was starting to get nervous that her dream was about to devolve into a nightmare. However, she knew that acknowledging that anxiety would only ensure that outcome, so she needed to get a handle on things.

She took a couple more steps back, just to give herself some breathing room. She looked around the peculiar space again, remarking that it looked…almost like…a ritual chamber. A place of sacrifice.

"What is this place?" she asked. Jareth tilted his head at her.

"Does it matter?" he asked. Sarah scowled.

"It might," she replied. Davion sauntered her way.

"We're in your mind, remember?" he asked, eyeing her keenly. "And very deep, by this point. It's not surprising to me that things would get a little…ominous." His eyes averted and rolled, referencing the looming cliffside shadowing them all. Sarah bit her lip but held steady. He was right. This was still her subconscious. Which meant she could control it.

"It's too creepy," she said, willing the sun to climb higher and show itself, purely for her own assurance. It did, its light illuminating the pit and absolving a modicum of her fear. She exhaled and relaxed, just a bit.

Davion looked up at the proud sun, wincing, then looked back at her again.

"See? It's all in your head," he said, cheerfully. "Nothing to fear but fear itself..and all that."

Sarah licked her lips again, reluctant to believe but knowing that she needed to for her own sake. The skin of her lips was so chapped it cracked, painful cuts tasting of blood grazing the tip of her tongue. Then she looked at the chalice in Davion's hand again. And the water…the blood…the whatever it was…it had her mouth watering.

"Why…do I need to drink that?" she asked. Davion shrugged.

"You don't need to do anything," he replied, then took one more step. "I'm just trying to help."

Sarah looked over at Jareth next. He was just watching her, intently.

"What's going to happen if I drink it?" she asked him. Jareth blinked, his attention on her fixed like a predator and without waver.

"Whatever you want," he said.

Sarah gulped. Circumstances felt…heavy, for some reason. She felt her heart thumping louder, her awareness of her dry throat and tacky tongue only feeding her craving for that strange, probably nefarious drink. Maybe it was wine, she mused. That would make the most sense. And then she realized…she didn't have to guess. Jareth was right. It would be whatever she wanted it to be. She just needed to believe in it, in herself. This was all her doing. She needed to keep going forward, to progress the dream. And she was…so fucking thirsty.

She approached Davion and tentatively took the cup from his hand.

"Alright…I'll drink it," she said.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, taking in more of it than she planned for. She had intended to have just a taste, but the moment that cold, sweet elixir touched her tongue, she felt suddenly ravenous for it. She gulped and gulped, the juice running over the edges of her mouth and down her neck. But, no matter how much she drank, it never emptied. She breathed heavily through her nose, her eyes rolling back. Then, just as a warm, buzzing feeling began to build in her, she broke free of the spell and pushed it away.

She panted as she caught her breath, the red liquid coating her lips and her tongue, plumping them back to their natural state and satiating her thirst —if only for a moment. She wiped away the mess from her mouth with the back of her hand, her attention honing on the two fae doppelgängers in front of her.

"What…the heck…is this?" she demanded. It was definitely not wine, not blood, and certainly not cool-aid like she'd hoped. No, this was something else entirely and it…was familiar.

Something rough grated between her cheek and her hand as she wiped her face and, when she pulled away to look at it, she saw a cluster of tiny black seeds stuck to the back of her hand. She stared at them in perplexion, then looked upward when a series of shadows began to play over them.

Trees had sprouted from the cliffside, a dozen of them, all around. They were twisted, dark, their branches fanning low and wide, creating broken shadows that blanketed them beneath the eye of the sun. All three of them gazed upon them and their deep, blood red leaves…

"Ah…" Davion said, and Sarah looked at him sharply. "So it's monoma."

Awareness dawned on her and her eyes widened, aghast. Yes. That was it. The taste that she remembered. It was the same as the fruit she'd eaten in the garden. Recalling the effect that magical fruit had on her that day sent her reeling and she quickly looked to Jareth for help.

"What is…why…?" But she couldn't form a real question. She was too frantic. Too scared. The sun above them began to set, rapidly, replaced instead by brooding clouds and a thunderous rumble. And she knew— oh no. It was about to—

Jareth's hand at her cheek broke her free of her spiral and he urged her to look at him. She did, with wide, addled eyes, her mouth muddied red. He was standing so close to her now, gazing at her without the least bit of worry.

"Stay calm," he told her, his thumb stroking her tacky cheek. "There's a reason, isn't there?" he asked. Sarah blinked, trying hard to sort through the mystery of her dream, but couldn't. Maybe she wasn't skilled enough. Maybe everything was about to fall apart—

She clenched her eyes shut, about to give in, to give up —when he kissed her. When his lips, hot and gentle, pressed to hers and held. She felt his fingers flex into her scalp. Felt his other hand gradually rise to mirror it. She felt his breath on her face and, even knowing that none of those feelings were real, it steadied her. It cradled her. She let out a shuddering breath when he pulled away. And she opened her eyes to find that the clouds had gone, replaced instead by the most beautiful starry night sky.

"There," he said, stroking her cheeks tenderly. "All better."

Sarah gulped. She didn't know how to react. She still held the goblet and she was still so thirsty. Sensing her need, Jareth glanced down at it, then easily took it from her grasp and lifted it to her lips.

"Drink," he said, in gentle command. Her eyes never left his as she obeyed, as she parted her lips and tilted back, staring deeply into the soft, pale blue of his irises. They nearly glowed in the ambient light, in the midnight blue that had come to blanket them in that cool, desolate place, masking the liquor of the monoma in a veil of boundless, inescapable black.

She finished her sip and he tilted her cup away, the hand still holding her face inching down to her mouth. She felt his thumb lightly pull along her lower lip, wiping away the excess. Sarah felt her breath leaving her, her thirst slyly replaced with something even more insatiable: hunger.

"What do you need?" he asked. And she replied, her voice husky and hoarse, "More."

Her hands all but lunged for the cup, ripping it from his grasp as she closed her eyes and drank from it. Jareth took half a step back, eyeing her avidly with a growing hunger of his own. She drank and drank, filling her stomach that only cried out for more. The way it coated her throat was soothing and it calmed her fear, lulled her worry. The night sky above began to brighten, to glow with nebulous washes that slowly churned. And round and round they went, moving, growing, pulsing—like the universe itself turned around them, lurking, watching, the pull of her desires commanding the stars themselves.

She did not hear Davion's steps, but pulled back from the cup to gaze at him half-lidded when noticing how close he'd come. He held another, identical chalice. It was filled to the brim, sloshing over the edge onto his arm, the red trickles straining his white sleeve and spreading up the fabric. He stood shoulder to shoulder between her and Jareth, darkened under the nightlight, and held the cup up to Jareth's lips. Sarah watched with her mouth still open as Jareth looked away from her and willingly drank from the cup Davion offered, as she willed for him to. Then she watched him slowly blink, his eyes glazing over and wilting when they reopened. He stared vacantly at his brother, who then shared in the drink and partook his own deep, heady sip.

Sarah watched the way Davion's throat bobbed as he drank, watched the way the juice spilled passed his lips and down his chin. Vein-like lines traveled down the length of his neck, over his chest, muddying the front of his shirt. Sarah breathed heavily, then slanted her eyes to Jareth. She wasn't afraid anymore. The dream had stabilized. And she…wanted him to drink from her, too.

She held her cup out for him and carefully tilted it to his mouth. His large hands covered her own to steady it, and she watched in perverse awe as his shoulders relaxed and his eyes closed in a moment of bliss. She looked at Davion next, who performed the same service to her.

She felt wetness coating the sides of her neck and matting her hair, trailing down to her cleavage and pooling there. She was also wearing white. A simple cotton gown. It was ruined now.

While her lips healed, her thirst remained. It was easier to breathe now, but she wanted so much more. A pulse could be felt in the air, or maybe it was her own. She didn't know. It didn't matter. This was a dream. And none of it, not even them, were real…

Ideas began to churn along with the twinkling, throbbing sky as she glimpsed the two of them sinking deeper and deeper into her thrall, the control she had over their very existence filling her with a sense of power and greed. She controlled them. She made them. This was her realm. The real Jareth and Davion were ignorant, would never even know. She could turn day into night. Turn blood into wine. She could do anything in this place.

She let the cup fall from her hands, its contents splashing onto the ground and endlessly spilling. Her hands, wet, red and sticky, went to Jareth's chest, kneading the fabric if only to stain it further.

"You've gotten so dirty…" she said, softly, and began to lightly pull the hem from his waistline. Jareth blinked languidly and watched her, his chest rising higher on a deeper breath. He let her remove it from him, his eyes roving wolfishly down her torso as she traced the tips of her fingers down his pectorals to his damp, sticky abdominals.

Then she looked to Davion.

"You too. You're the messiest of all."

A snake-like grin spread to the edges of Davion's face, his gaze on her equally foggy and dark. He stood himself taller and looked down his nose at her, prompting a challenge in response to her command.

"I'll need some help," he said, so coyly.

Sarah brought her hand to rest atop his chalice, then gently pushed down until it fell from his grasp. Then her eyes moved low, down to his waist. And she wondered if there was a reason her mind had dressed them the same. Maybe…it was so they would look similar…

She felt an urge but lacked any trace of contemplation. Her inhibitions were gone. She'd fallen too deep to harbor such trifles. She wanted what she wanted…

She took hold of the ends of Davion's shirt and bunched it up in her hands.

He stepped back so she could pull it off, the long ends of his ponytail slipping free only to get caught in the remnant red streaks on his chest that had soaked through the fabric. Sarah helped free him, pulling his hair behind his neck and taking a moment to observe.

He was practically as tall as Jareth, with a similarly lean build. Nary a blemish marked his torso, not even the scars that wretched the original's back. As her eyes moved back up to catch the dark smolder he was silently giving her, she remarked that he was a handsome man. That much could not be denied. And the fact that his physique was slightly thicker than Jareth's was intriguing. It made her want to know the feel of his muscle, how soft or hard the planes of his chest might be. She lifted a hand to touch him but hesitated. And then, by a will of their own it seemed, her fingers pressed to the soft skin of his pectoral…then firmly dragged down.

The tip of her ring finger brushed over his nipple along the way. It hardened and he made a shallow hiss under his breath. It stirred something in her, the current of the red ring spinning faster. Oh, the embarrassment she would feel if she was awake. A part of her wondered if she would even want to touch him that way in the real world or if this was just the work of raw, fever dream unbridlement, but—no, no more thinking about reality. It would ruin the fun.

As if on cue, a kiss on her shoulder distracted her. She turned her head away from Davion towards Jareth, her nose brushing through his bangs as he lightly pressed his lips over herhoulder. His hand felt down her arm, the little touch teasing and sending goosebumps over the skin. She drew up her shoulder against the sensation, which was what he wanted. It loosened the strap of her dress which he flicked down her shoulder.

"You've sullied your dress as well," he murmured, planting soft kisses around her shoulder. Her gaze stayed low, even at the feeling of Davion brushing her hair back from the other shoulder.

"Perhaps you need some help, too," he said, and leaned in to kiss the exposed part of her neck.

Sarah felt the straps of her dress shifting further and further down her arms but did nothing to stop it. It felt right. Easy. Her dreamscape wanted it to happen. Did that…mean she wanted it to happen? Was this…some subconscious desire manifesting itself? She wanted to say no, to blame it on hormones or paranoia, or anything else, really. She loved Jareth. Davion, meanwhile, irritated the hell out of her. Yet…there was an undeniably provocative allure to this. A remnant whisper in her ear kept reminding her that Jareth wanted her to explore, to let go, to take these experiences. She was the uptight one. The only one holding back —forcing him to hold back. She didn't like it. Maybe the dream Davion had given her before had planted a seed in her mind. Or…maybe…she should woman up and just admit that she wanted this all on her own.

She turned her head towards the sky and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath that lifted her chest while their lips kissed over the newly exposed parts of her body. First her shoulders, her neck, then down to her chest and…

She felt the cool air of the valley tickle her skin as her dress tumbled from her body. It pooled at her feet and she left it there, her nipples peaking under the crisp night air just as hot and hungry mouths found them.

They took turns lapping the monoma juices from her breasts, Jareth's hand kneading one and pushing the fatty flesh higher towards his mouth. His kisses were open, more wet. Davion's, however, were sharp, like nips. He teased the weighty mound before blowing across her hardened nipple, the sensation sending a shiver up her spine that lifted her to her toes. She gasped sweetly in the twilight, reaching up and grabbing Davion's arm for support when he finally drew her tantalized nipple in and suckled.

The feeling of someone else's lips, tongue, teeth on her body, the taboo of it, made her moan unexpectedly, her fingers curling like claws into Davion's bicep. It felt much more real this time around. Maybe it was because she was in control this time. The things that happened were the result of her own will, not an invader's. She wasn't sure, but it hardly mattered. Jareth's hands groped around her body and held her up, just as her knees felt weak.

Her other arm wound around the back of Jareth's head, getting lost in his hair and holding him to her as he flicked his tongue around her nipple and played. She opened her eyes just a sliver and gazed outward as she submitted to the pleasure. The hollow of the ravine was near pitch black, which made it too easy for her to catch sight of the new pairs of red, glowing eyes moving around them in the background. But, rather than be startled by it, she simply observed, her gaze burrowing into the pall and willing the figures to reveal themselves.

A pair of wolves prowled the edges of the ravine, separated by the chasm between the cliffs and the platform. Sarah watched them vacantly, trying to understand their purpose and intent. They were foreboding, yet she did not fear them. No, they belonged to her. They were her hunger. Searching. Waiting. Wolfish.

With an airy breath, she pulled Jareth up and kissed him, letting her other hand explore the finer texture of Davion's hair. The way he kissed her in return was strong, commanding. She let herself get lost in it while his brother had his way.

As her hand braced the back of Jareth's neck, holding herself up, she fleetingly wondered what to do next. She had no experience with this, taking turns and what not. And there was no one else to guide her. The tiniest flare of insecurity ignited within —and then Jareth pulled back from her sharply.

Her eyes opened fuller and she stared at him expectantly, but an inscrutable shroud had come over him. Pure lust was in that look, and then he pushed her back —hard.

She fell into Davion with a shrill gasp, the two of them actually toppling to the ground. The impact was not as rough as she expected, however. No…now the stone was soft and warm.

Davion fell flat on his back, with Sarah keeling over him. Her hand was pressed flat-palmed to his chest, her hips turned and her thigh wedged firmly against his groin. She blinked quickly from the surprise, then looked up at Jareth in confusion.

He was standing above them, looking down in every sense. She could not gauge him in the dim light —and then Davion's hands were on her, turning her around.

She lost her balance and fell, her torso pressing flat against his. His hands were quick to grasp either side of her face, then pulled her in for a kiss.

While Davion had actually kissed her once, she was still surprised by Dream Davion's boldness. She tensed, but did not recoil, letting him kiss her in what felt like an exploratory manner. She closed her eyes, pretended he was Jareth and, after a moment, gave into it.

They felt almost the same. The way his lips moved with hers was less familiar, a different nuance. It put her off at first but…no, no she was kissing him back vehemently now. She planted her hands to the ground on either side of him, pulling up her hips and grinding against him. She could feel his erection growing beneath his pants. And that…that was really turning her on. The sound of his murmurs, a different tone from Jareth, was heating her blood in a way she did not anticipate. She had to pull away to catch her breath, staring down at him in shock of her own self. With heavy breaths, she looked back at Jareth, who was stroking his cock over his own pants as he watched.

"Keep going," he said, and it was not a request.

Sarah gulped, her eyes locked with his even as Davion's hands greedily felt all over her. She felt him grope her breast, felt his grip, as strong and practiced his brother's, press down her spine and curl around her ass, spreading it open. The tips of his fingers reached a little too low, just barely grazing the sensitive folds of her sex. She gasped, her hips flexing between his thighs. He murmured his approval and pulled his hand back, the faint streak of wetness left in his wake going unnoticed by none of them. Sarah curled her head down and closed her eyes. Jareth was watching this. Figment or not, she was completely naked and he was right there, watching her moan for his brother. It was lewd, and titillating, and—

"Do you want me to fuck you first?" Davion whispered, hotly into her ear. Sarah let out a whimper that was near feral, her hands clenching into tight fists against the stone beneath them. She moved her body against him again, still too self aware to say what she wanted outright. But that was what the monoma was for. She didn't need to say or do anything…

Davion's hands, sensing her reluctance, slyly traveled up her back, his one leg notching itself between hers and spreading them apart, opening her cunt for his brother to see —but the way her ass turned up, bowing her back like a bitch waiting to be mounted, that was all her. "He's staring at you ravenously, you know," Davion whispered provocatively. "He wants to watch me pleasure you..."

Sarah tensed and groaned, his smooth seduction radiating through her entire being. It was just like training with Jareth and getting sidetracked along the way. Physical sensations mingled with mental, turning into one overwhelming, all encompassing thing. His mere words stimulated her. Thoughts of what was to come sent a wonderful tingling through her whole body.

Davion grinned from his supine position, quiet victory moving through him as a deep rumble in his chest.

"You want that too, don't you?" he asked, and Sarah nodded. Then she felt his hand reach up to clutch the back of her neck, holding her still while he leaned his head up and spoke directly into her ear. "I need you to say it, sweet thing. Say it…and let us have you."

The whimpers that slipped through her clenched teeth were as aroused as they were frustrated. Of course, even in her own head, they would demand the upper hand. She looked back at Jareth again, looking for his silent permission. The way he stared at her was fierce, like a beast honing in on its prey. She gulped and her lips parted. "Yes," she breathed out, her eyes never straying from his. "Please."

She felt Davion hum and then his finger notch under her chin, turning her to look at him.

"Mm…now look at me and say it."

He turned up his hips as he spoke, grinding the full length of his cock over her clit, his free hand clamping down on her hip to keep her there lest she shyly flinch away. Her brows turned downward pitifully. It was adorable. Davion's grin was of a true scoundrel as he drank it all in. Alas, Sarah was not that meek.

"I will not beg you," she said, although the words came unevenly. "This is still my dream."

Davion laughed, the smile touching his eyes in genuine amusement. He leaned his head back against the ground, conceding what was so obviously an important matter to her.

"Yes, sweet sister –it is."

Both hands planted to her hips and a sudden rocking caught her unawares. Apparently the remainder of his clothing had vanished, which meant the next thrust of his cock was skin to skin. He felt hot against her open cunt, hot and smooth and hard. He split her lips, wetting the shaft while the head pressed into her clit. She let out a moan from the surprise and threw her head back. He repeated the motion again, and again, coating himself in her wetness while gradually easing back.

The head of his cock neared her opening with each roll of his hips, pulled open by his hands on either side of her ass. Her knees were bent and her back was sharply arched. Cool air grazed over her wet, clenching flesh, and she knew that Jareth's view from that angle must be disgustingly wanton. It was that awareness that spurred her on, that made it all so hot and desirable. And the moment his cock notched itself in her entrance, the feeling of his wide head starting to spread and push in, it was perhaps the most erotic thing she'd ever experienced. She felt him slowly glide in, inch by inch, pulling out every time, and she couldn't help but look back to spy on Jareth again. His jaw was clenched tight and his erection proved a heavy strain on his pants. She wanted to see him stroke it, so he did.

She moaned loudly when Davion chose then to thrust deeply in.

Her back jerked and bowed again, and she leaned up, physically recoiling despite the pleasure it gave her. Expecting the reaction, Davion's hands cemented and yanked her down, forcing her to meet his second thrust that buried him to the hilt. Sarah's eyes opened widely towards the stars. She honestly had no idea what the real Davion's cock would feel like, but her imagination was serving her well. Her body quickly submitted and undulated to his rhythm as he pulled and pushed into her eager, dripping cunt, over and over, languidly, slowly, keeping her ass spread apart at the perfect viewing angle. He also arched his neck back, screwing his eyes shut as he moaned. Sarah, needing balance, placed her hand back to his chest, sparing no further hesitation to enjoy the moment and feel the muscles in his chest working under her. She felt so scandalous. So empowered. So good. Her knees widened and her hips sank, letting him reach as deeply as possible. She was starting to get lost in it, and then she felt another set of hands on her.

She looked back to find Jareth kneeling behind them, his gaze fixed and burning on her spread little asshole. His hands rubbed over her, over Davion's own hands, down to her thighs. He was feeling the motion of her being fucked, lost in his own world as he watched his brother's cock thrusting in an out of her messy pussy. And, fuck, it was too much for her. She had to look away —clenching her eyes shut again as Davion's mouth found the thumping artery in her neck.

Her moans turned higher when the pads of Jareth's fingers began to massage the swollen folds of her cunt hugging Davion's cock, knowing that he was touching him too, inadvertently or not. While she always played it off as disgust, a small, dark part of her found the idea of them being together, sharing in the experience equally, to be dangerously erotic. She envisioned Jareth squeezing his brother's cock while he fucked her, so he did.

A hoarse moan broke free straight from Davion's chest, causing him to lurch up off the ground. Sarah gave a shaky whimper in response, but all she could do was hold still otherwise. Then she felt some discomfort down below, stretching, pushing, and realized Jareth was working to slide one of his fingers inside her, to feel Davion's cock sliding back and forth over the soft, wet ridges of her insides.

She relaxed and let him in, and felt his hand start to thrust. He moved in rhythm with his brother, the fluids that came out of her because of it running hotly down his hand. She heard Jareth groan at the sight of it —and he started thrusting harder.

Wet, slapping sounds grew in volume, echoing in the chasm only to reverberate back in her own ears. And it was a sound she was forced to hear, to acknowledge, and she did. The very last of her reservations slipped away and she gave in utterly. Jareth's hand pulled away from her at that very moment, then slyly trailed up.

He coated his fingers in her fluids and massaged them around her asshole, then pulled away to unfasten the fly of his pants and coat his swollen, throbbing shaft. Her first instinct was to tense and recoil, but she abstained. This was a dream. It didn't have to hurt, remember? And she wanted this. She wanted that experience with him. It wasn't fair…that Davion had gotten to have her there first.

She felt him press in, with just one finger, and did her best to relax and open for him. She felt him slide to the first knuckle, then the second, then he pulled out and did it again. He moved slowly, carefully testing her limits. When she started to pant, he became more aggressive, sliding his index finger in and out of her ass all the way, fluidly. Then she felt his free hand press down on the small of her back, putting her at a specific angle on both his finger and Davion's cock that had her screaming.

Both brothers groaned and gritted their teeth, but it was Jareth who acted. He added a second finger, stretching her, thrusting harder, deeper, preparing her for his own painfully engorged cock. She felt a hollowness in her that she couldn't quite describe, a precipice that she could only kneel and wait to be taken to. That moment was given swiftly, however, as Jareth's hand withdrew entirely and she felt the pressure of the head of his cock pressing to her asshole.

She wondered if she would muster the confidence to let him do that in the real world. She wondered if this wet dream of hers would be enough to rid her of her damned modesty. She hoped so, for her own sake.

Davion slowed to almost nothing, sensing his brother preparing to enter. He held Sarah still and kissed her neck, biting and licking to keep her distracted. Jareth held the shaft of his cock with one hand, keeping it at the proper place while slowly pushing in. She pushed back, a natural motion, meeting him and welcoming him with ease. His other hand moved up to hold her waist tightly, just above Davion's hand on her hip, and he leaned forward over her. She gasped and panted, higher and higher, her spine going rigid as two large, long, flexing rods simultaneously filled her. She braced and held her breath, letting him delve deep, to the root, and did not exhale until he stilled.

He was fully inside of her when he lifted his hand from her waist, and she felt his body heat flush over her as he leaned forward even more, aligning their bodies. She saw his hands press to the ground beside her own, felt his thumbs brush over her knuckles while his breath blew hot in her hair. He leaned even further to turn his lips to her ear, the motion pushing his cock even deeper into her ass and making her whine.

"You're doing so well," he whispered, the tip of his tongue tracing the shell of her ear. Sarah felt her arms buckle from it and she dropped to her elbows, cradling Davion's head and burying her nose in his hair. Jareth kissed the back of her shoulder next, the tender touch trickling down her spine as he slowly leaned away. Then he was kneeling behind her again, deft to remove his brother's hands on her hips to replace with his own. "You can start, Davion," he said and, for a split second, Sarah wondered what the hell that meant.

Davion's hands carefully massaged over Sarah's sides, moving up her back before winding into a knot in her hair. The tension there compelled her to arch back, to her limit, eyes vacant on the dark shadows and jagged edges of the cliff before her. He began to move again, slowly, achingly in side of her, and she was sure she felt every nuance of the way her muscles molded of the shape of him, squeezing, pulling him in on every thrust. It felt good, better than she'd ever admit, and she let herself moan openly in the crisp, moist air. She heard a rumble come from Jareth's chest as he watched, feeling the warmth from his large hands caress the chilled flesh of her ass. He spread her apart with his thumbs, his gaze heating by the subtle rocking of her body as she reacted and swayed to Davion's ministrations. Then he felt his cock pulse in her ass, wanting so badly to move —because she wanted him to move, so badly.

His fingers dug into the firm flesh of her ass then pulled her sharply back, anchoring his cock there for one, deep, long second. He savored that moment, the constriction, the fullness, then pulled his hips back. She moaned, high, her breathing already strained. Then he focused on Davion's rhythm. Then he thrust forward and matched it.

The combined force of two bodies jutting into her was stronger than Sarah had anticipated and she lurched forward, having to brace against her hands while instinctively pushing back onto Jareth's cock. She grunted, falling to an elbow and shifting her hips to fight for the best angle —but Jareth knew better.

He grabbed her when she lurched and tugged her back into spot, ignoring her sudden yip and using his knees to knock hers wider apart. Davion, whose grip in her hair was as firm as ever, kept her mostly still while leaving pinching love bites on her neck. She started to squirm away from all the different sensations she was now feeling, but they wouldn't let her get far. Jareth moaned, throwing his head back as he thrust forward, harder, filling her ass wonderfully full.

"Ah—" Sarah cried out abruptly, unsure if what she was feeling was pleasure or pain. She and Jareth had done some experimenting in the real world, but this —full on, unrestricted fucking— was a step she hadn't quite let him get to yet. Not fully knowing what to expect, what to feel, was a tiny bit nerve wracking and, as she started to doubt herself, began to feel twinges of pain. She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. Acknowledging that feeling or the anxiety behind it would only make it worse. She needed…to stop thinking so much. To focus on only pleasure. It didn't matter if she was naive. She just needed to feel good—

Something of ecstasy swept over Jareth as her desires drove the dreamscape forward in a very specific direction and he let out a guttural moan, one of his hands impulsively rearing back and slapping her square on her left asscheek. She cried out again, her torso crumpling atop Davion's as she resigned to their command of her. They moved in perfect sync, thrusting their long, hard cocks together in a manner that was so meticulous if felt like a relentless onslaught of her poor, over-sensitized body. She could actually feel them run along each other inside of her through whatever muscle or tissue that kept them separate. It was...erotic and…rough and…too fucking good.

She didn't know how long they used her like that, time having absolutely no meaning in that dark, shadowed pit. She only did her best to keep herself balanced on her hands and knees —buckling against Davion's chest only when their care of her became too much.

Davion took advantage of her gaping mouth and turned his face up to kiss her messily, greedily, sparing no concern for her need of oxygen. Each time she broke away, she heaved breaths, feeling so hot she could hardly think—but no sweat or thirst or exhaustion or suffocation ever followed, only more rough, wet kisses. It was only when she started imagining how glorious it would be to finally cum that anything changed.

She heard Jareth groan low in his throat, then felt his stomach touch the small of her back as he reared over her again, molding his body to hers. She thought he was going to speak in her ear again, but he didn't. No, she yelped in surprise when he took the hold Davion had on her hair for himself and unforgivingly yanked her upright.

The air left her lungs on a gasp just as Jareth's hand wound into a fist right at the nape of her neck. He kept her on an edge, back arched and lifted as high as her knees would take her, while his cock continued to thrust brutally in and out of her stretched asshole. The new angle let him go deeper, let her feel more of it. Her arousal dripped down Davion's cock to wet the ground beneath him, a heat sparking in her chest as both brothers picked up the pace, taking her fully, intimately, rutting. She felt Jareth's other hand wrap carefully around the front of her throat next, angling her chin upward as high as it would go.

"You're such a sweet thing, aren't you?" Jareth whispered, kissing her behind the ear as he fucked her. It made her mouth drop open. "Ah…but not too sweet. You like the way we're fucking you, don't you?" The hand in her hair let go and reached down to clamp on the sharp bone of her hip instead. The tips of his fingers dug into the tender flesh there, the small amount of pain it elicited causing her to turn her hips back even more.

She could feel her orifices stretching from the strained angle, feel her ass slapping against Jareth's groin with every hard pound. And she loved it. She whimpered and bit on her lips, grimacing up at the sky.

"Mhm…" she murmured, eager for the feeling of hands massaging her clit, then moaned when she got it. She opened her eyes and peered down as best she could, eyeing Davion and his look of focus as he stared at her swollen clit while her pussy bounced up and down on his cock. One of his thumbs had pressed to the tender nub, rubbing in firm circles and spreading her wetness all over, making her pussy an even bigger mess.

It was too hot. All of it. It was just too much. Sarah had to avert her eyes and settle herself down. She wanted to cum. She just…couldn't decide on how.

Her mouth hung open while Jareth's fingers, curled up around her jaw, felt their way to her lips and pressed in. She felt them on her teeth and hungrily darted out her tongue to lick them, her mouth making lewd noises as she struggled to draw them in further and suck. Ah, but he understood her need. They both did. Jareth let go of her jaw and took her by the hair again, keeping a firm hold on the rest of her while Davion slid out of her, abruptly.

Sarah gasped in protest, the sudden emptiness leaving her cold and throbbing. Her cunt clenched, wanting to be filled and fucked and, for a split second, she thought maybe they were switching spots. She wanted Jareth's dick in her pussy badly, but…

She was a little surprised when what happened next was not any of the things on her mind.

Davion removed himself from under she and Jareth and stood. Sarah watched him questioningly but did not have enough time to resist Jareth's hold. She could feel the muscles of his pectorals pressing softly against her shoulder blades, the fact that she could see Davion but not him adding a perverse allure to the situation. Davion, now in full buff, stood before her and stroked his angry cock, darkened by need and glistening with her. Sarah watched, with avid, starving eyes. She watched him stroke it, watched him squeeze the head and churn his wrist around the shaft. It looked painful, swollen, veiny, like he needed to cum. Her mouth watered at the thought.

He stepped forward and Sarah's eyes raked up and down nervously. She wasn't sure…what he was planning to do, but…

Jareth's hand tightened in her hair, pinching the root and making her wince. He was still fucking her, still moving in long, deep strokes. She stared up at Davion's face as he watched her, as he focused intently on the shape of her gaping mouth.

Jareth brought his mouth to her neck.

"Stick out your tongue…" he quietly commanded, the reverberation of his words sending tingles across her scalp. Sarah stared misty-eyed up at Davion, knowing what he wanted —what she wanted to do— and gave herself to the subconscious urge showing itself in the aggression of Jareth's grip. She opened her mouth widely and laid her tongue flat.

Davion murmured in anticipation, beads of precum oozing from the swollen tip of his cock as he held it. His eyes stayed locked on hers as he stepped forward and placed the heavy shaft down on her tongue, pressing the tip to the back of it and then dragging, letting the drops of precum trail over her wet, restless tongue. She breathed sharply through her nose, eagerness getting the better of her through bright, fixed eyes.

And then he laid his cock in her gaping mouth again, then she curled her tongue around it and sucked.

Her lips closed around the hard shaft of Davion's cock and pulled it in, as far as it could go, and she closed her eyes briefly to appreciate the hot, velvety texture. Davion moaned and angled his head back, needing to reposition himself before thrusting into her mouth. She felt the ridges of veins move over her tongue, her saliva thick and coating as much of him as she could fit in her mouth.

He tasted good, sweet even. She didn't know why. It must have been something subconscious. But it didn't matter. She didn't care. She knew Jareth was watching all of it from over her shoulder and she wanted him to watch. She wanted to hear and feel his own arousal grow by watching Davion have his way, fucking her mouth. She felt powerful, wanton, and beautiful. The way Jareth's heart was pounding against her spine—the heightened tone of his quick breaths —being able to be that way, for him —even if it was just a dream…it was more satisfying than she could fathom.

She sucked Davion's cock and rolled her tongue around its edges, only gasping for breath whenever he pulled out to trace her lips with the head, before thrusting it back in again. She tried to take it all, but a couple too-deep thrusts against the back of her throat had her gagging. And then Jareth was pulling her chin up again.

"Relax your throat," he leaned down and whispered. Sarah blinked furiously and gulped, doing nothing else while Jareth gradually eased her down, some of the tension on her body lessening as he directed her to kneel lower. She watched Davion keenly, eyes all over him as he stepped a little closer. He was watching her in return. Then, by Jareth's command, she opened her mouth again.

She sat in wait, mouth watering with wanton hunger while her pussy dripped, running wet down her thighs to the ground. Jareth was idle inside of her, more interested in the angle of her throat and look of sheer lust that was burning her face.

Davion laid his cock to her tongue again. Only, that time, his hands let go and moved tenderly over the sides of her face—then he slowly pushed forward.

"Stay still, darling," Davion said, in gentle command. "—panic and this could go badly." He cracked a smirk at her but she was taking the instruction dead seriously. Of course, she wouldn't actually hurt him by biting, nor would she choke by moving. But panic, even over the smallest thing, could turn the dreamscape on its head. She took a moment to center herself. Then, by the mere look in her eyes, he started to move.

Sarah murmured, trying to hold gazes with Davion instead of wince, as his hands tightened around her head and his cock glided, so effortlessly, down her throat. She did not gag that time, felt no resistance at all, and inhaled sharply through the nose in arousal. Davion, with eyes shrouded by lust, gritted his approval, then pulled back and did it again. Her head inched back naturally, following the movement, but both Davion's hands on her face and Jareth's in her hair locked her. And there she stayed, there she endured as Davion, through with testing her after but one more exploratory thrust, gave in to his own need and began to fuck her throat, selfishly.

Beads of tears welled at the corner of Sarah's eyes, forced to submit and take the powerful thrusts of Davion's hips into her mouth. She focused on holding steady, but the speed and roughness by which he moved was hurting her jaw and turning the skin of her lips raw. She blinked hard and the tears streamed down to her cheeks, catching on his thumbs which only readjusted on her face, smearing them around. He felt hard as a rod in her mouth and she worried about whether or not her teeth would scrape but—wait, no. This was a dream. He would be fine—

The way she screamed onto Davion's cock was muffled and choked, her eyes clenching tightly shut in place of her teeth when Jareth, content with the new pace, decided to join.

He pulled out a little, then thrust in, testing her resistance. She was still so wet, so open, her tight little asshole begging to be fucked by him. He considered toying with her open pussy for a while but—no, she'd like this more. He pulled out further while she was distracted by Davion, then spread her insides with a deft jut of the hips. The sound she made was perfectly lewd, perfectly wet and shocked and insatiable. His fingers buried in her flesh, holding her hip perfectly still while he fucked one hole as Davion fucked another.

Sarah's hands did not know what to do with themselves. They lifted between herself and Davion, but she had nothing to brace. She was moaning and screaming and gagging, sensations moving through her from head to toe with no end in sight. She peeped open her eyes to look at Davion, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. No, his eyes were cast above, and she knew that the person he was now focused on, was Jareth. Imagining their gazes locked while they fucked her sent a provocative flare straight through Sarah's abdomen, twisting it in knots that wanted to unwind themselves in euphoric release so badly. God, that was hot. Dirty. Wrong. But it might have been that last bit that was truly arousing her. It made her wonder…if they would ever share such looks in the waking world.

She heard Davion gasp and looked up at him again. His face was twisting, his shoulders tensing while his fingers dug into her cheeks. He was pulling her face onto his cock now, faster, over and over. She could hardly breathe, hardly feel anything beyond momentum and pools of saliva that were spilling over the edges of her mouth and running down her chin. Her hair was pinching in Jareth's grip and her hips ached from being spread for so long. And then he came —a torrent of hot cum spurting straight down to her stomach.

Sarah whined but braced, gulping down what she could before excess oozed from the corners of her mouth to smear on her face. She didn't taste much. She didn't have to. She just wanted to watch him come undone, see the look of rapture that sent Davion's eyes rolling back at that precise moment.

After a couple more, jerking thrusts, Davion let out a ragged breath and loosened his grip on her face. He staggered half a step back and gripped his cock while pulling it from Sarah's mouth. He was breathing heavily now, looking utterly spent. The way the muscles of his torso flexed and spasmed as his diaphragm moved was hot —as was the cold ring of spit she could feel sticking to her mouth. She took in a deeper breath, swallowing hard, then felt Jareth's warm embrace encircle her throat again.

"Mm…" she heard him mumble in satisfaction, and then he whispered, "Good girl…"

Sarah's breath hitched and it was something that pulled up her entire body. His sudden praise reignited her fire and she moaned just from that. She felt Jareth's hands leave her head and move down, possessively groping her breasts and pinching her nipples while Davion, coming down but still thoroughly aroused, watched. She felt his dick throb in her ass and she leaned back against his chest. She was ready to cum now. To have Davion watch her and Jareth as they both plummeted through intense climaxes. She closed her eyes, set on making that happen, focusing on the scenario. Jareth would cum deep in her ass and she would scream, pussy clenching and aching in emptiness —but the feeling, the rapture of it? It would be so much more powerful than simply being filled. And it would drip, it would leave that stone platform sodden in her wake. She felt Jareth's hands moving over her body, felt his face in her neck and his hot, cutting teeth bite into her shoulder. She was getting so close. She was going to cum like this. Yes—she was going to—

Sarah opened her eyes and every ounce of embarrassment came barreling forward, all at once.

It ended in a flash. In a blink. In a moment left wholeheartedly unsatisfied. Sarah felt her heart racing a million miles a minute as she came back to sanity, blinking helplessly at the perfect darkness of the carriage. Eyes wide, it took several feverish seconds before any type of clarity came to her vision and she blinked furiously at Jareth's face —caught in repose all but an inch or two from her own.

She let out a ragged breath as quietly as she could manage, her knees squeezing together instinctively to relieve the hot, swollen feeling burgeoning in her groin. Her panic faded less quickly, however, leaving her discombobulated and unawares.

Oh God. Oh God, what had she done? What had she allowed herself to do? It was a dream, right? She was awake now? Yes. Right. Yes, that's it. She'd woken up. This was reality. She had been asleep, nestled between Jareth and Davion. None of that was real. Nothing had happened. And…judging by the way Jareth's eyes had yet to open, it seemed she might actually get away with it.

Oh…thank God. She'd gotten so caught up in the moment, she'd completely disregarded the utter humiliation she'd feel if Jareth ever saw it for himself. She just needed to be cool, inconspicuous, and go right back to sleep. She steadied herself, hoping their gentle slumber meant she'd be in the clear.

And then she felt arms flex —arms that were not Jareth's.

Sarah's panic doubled at the feeling of Davion's arms tightening around her middle in an embrace. She glanced back at him in a flash, but his face was turned down, nuzzled into the back of her shoulder. She felt his whole body shift, pushing himself into closer alignment with hers, then relax. She blinked a few more times, then realized it was an unconscious movement and he was also still asleep. He must have…started cuddling her in his sleep at some point. Yes. Yes, that made sense —especially given whatever scent her dream might be exuding. And then—

Oh no.

Her scent.

She'd just had a sex dream. An honest to goodness, all on her own sex dream featuring both Jareth AND Davion. Holy fucking shit. That was…insane. Insanely good. And…and…and there was no fucking way she was going to let either one of them ever find out—

She froze when she felt Davion's nose rustling in her hair, then the sound of a deep, thoroughly relaxed inhale.

FUCK. They could still smell her right now, right? Even asleep? What would that…what did that mean?

She was too caught up in her own panic to notice the sly chuckle moving deep in Jareth's chest.

"...did you have a good dream?" she heard him whisper, and she quickly shot her attention forward at him again. Her eyes widened comically while her lips puckered. Jareth, even half-dazed as he was, could see it all so perfectly.

"You…you're awake?" she whisper-yelled, unable to hide her anxiety. "...for how long?"

A bastardly smirk lifted only one end of Jareth's lips —oh, but it lifted it high. His eyes closed gently as he basked in her —truly overpowering— scent.

"Until just now," he replied, his voice so hushed. "I was sleeping perfectly sound…but then I sensed something incessant that woke me." Tired delight carried those words, made so low and groggy in the pitch black of night. Sarah gulped. Great. So her pheromones were so strong they actually woke him up? She was mortified.

"In…incessant?" she replied, sheepishly. She spoke as quietly as possible, not wanting to rouse Davion. Both of his hands were wrapped around her midsection, his feet low, tangled with hers. Jareth still laid on his side, his right arm still strewn beneath her pillow. If he curled it up, he'd be embracing Davion too.

Jareth pulled himself a tiny bit closer to her.

"Mhmm…" he began to whisper, so teasingly. "Your pheromones are positively rampant right now. And we're trapped in such a tiny compartment. There's just nowhere for it to go."

He smiled when she panicked, almost turning over if only to push Davion away —but she didn't. Now why was that? Her terror, however, had a rather unfortunate consequence. Jareth sensed her pheromones spike again, growing so thick and tantalizing he could feel it building on his tongue —which seemed to be enough to finally rouse his brother.

A disgruntled groan emitted from between Sarah's shoulder blades, along with a new, undesired shifting of her body. Davion's arms flexed and he stretched out, using her as a pillow while reacting to her scent. Her eyes were wide and trained to her periphery, listening to every little sound that came out of him. She heard him murmur again and scent her hair —and then something familiar pulsed against her ass.

Oh my God, is that his dick? Her thoughts tumbled, scurrying every which way as she froze utterly in place. Circumstances felt precarious. She was literally trapped in his clutches and she knew exactly what her pheromones were telling him. Oh God. Oh Jesus, Sarah, what the fuck is wrong with you?

But had they seen her dream? Or were they just reacting to it after the fact?

She didn't know which answer would be worse, or even which one she wanted. She didn't have the time. Too much panic.

She felt Jareth reach out to tuck some errant strand of hair behind her ear, apparently content to let her suffer there.

"How did you know…it was a dream?" she muttered. Jareth's soft, snake-like grin was lost to her in the darkness —but not his touch. He trailed it lightly to her lips.

"I guessed. I take it I'm right?" he asked, holding back so much wicked amusement. Sarah bit the inside of her lip, refusing to dignify his mockery. She was wrong to let him distract her though, even for a second. A shiver ran all over her body when Davion, steadily waking, shifted against her again, lightly grinding against her ass while his head lifted to the back of her neck.

The delicate hairs there bristled against his breath, still so shallow and groggy. A part of her hoped the smell was just too much for him and that he would go right on back to sleep. She held out no such hopes for Jareth, though. He was too used to it.

Maybe she could blame this all on hormones? Write it off as a harmless and inadvertent effect of being pregnant? That was a thing, right? To be randomly horny? They could laugh at her all they wanted so long as it saved her from…from…

The feeling of Davion's lips, Davion's actual lips, lightly ghosting across the back of her neck made her whimper —damning her then and there.

Shocked, appalled, and mortified by her own reaction, Sarah's hands sprang up to cover her mouth and she pulled her shoulders away, trying to put as much distance between herself and Davion's mouth as possible. Unfortunately, that sweet little sound she made had no escape and the soft hum seemed to ominously reverberate through the shadows.

"Oh…you're so on edge," Jareth whispered, his voice husky and slow. He sounded drugged and sleepy, and she figured he was. Normally that would get a rise out of her but —oh Jesus fuck, why were her knees rubbing together again?

She needed to stop. She needed to get a hold of herself. It was just one little dream and there was no good reason for her to be as turned on as she still was. Her cunt ached, literally throbbing with the need to be touched. It was almost painful and all she could think about. Well…almost all…

One of Davion's arms flexed and inched higher, pulling her back to him. She felt his chest press to her back, then the return of his lips, leaving little, barely there pecks. Her neck instinctively arched into them, the feeling too slight, too teasing, and she let out an airy breath. Fuck. This was bad. She was too worked up. And they—they were all too close together.

Davion's arm pulled back slightly, his hand pressing firmly to her ribs just below her breasts. The proximity, the threat of his touch on an already tantalized part of her body sent more tingles, hardening her nipples beneath her cotton nightshirt. Jareth scented her growing arousal, fighting so futility with her panic, and relaxed himself into their shared pillow.

"Tread carefully, love…" he muttered, feeling simultaneously weightless and crushed beneath the compulsion of her wiles. "Your scent is exceedingly intoxicating right now." Then he inhaled deeply through the nose. "…makes me wish you had invited us in."

Davion, unexpectedly lucid, nuzzled Sarah's neck with a bit more intention, leaving a hot nip on the vertebrae.

"Mm…her pulse just jumped," Davion murmured, squeezing her. "Maybe we were already there…?"

Sarah, preparing to flee, flicked her eyes to the side reflexively. She hadn't realized Davion was legitimately conscious now. Oh no. That couldn't be good. And, amidst her panic, she wondered if that comment meant he'd just read her dream—

"M-maybe we should sleep separately after all…" she suggested, starting to scramble and kick the covers off.

Jareth brought his body into alignment with hers, effectively wedging her helplessly between them.

"Why?" Jareth asked, languor in his drawl. Sarah ceased her fidgeting, if only for a moment. She felt Jareth's free hand follow the shape of her hip, then he said, "He knows better than to do anything...right, brother?" Davion nodded wordlessly and it was not at all convincing. And then Jareth added, "Unless, of course, there's something you'd like him to do?"

Sarah stilled. She could tell Jareth was mostly teasing her just now, but also not really. Clearly her pheromones were affecting him too, but to what extent? He'd been so irritated with his brother a short while ago and now look at him —giving his blessing to let them…let them…let them what?! Canoodle?!

Her embarrassment would not let her admit anything more, the raunchy details of her dream betraying her trust and replaying rapidly, graphically, over and over in her head. Goddamnit! Stop! Stop thinking about it! Stop envisioning, and hearing, and feeling…

But it was just so good. The way she'd felt in that dream was so good —going beyond the carnal pleasures. The control, the authority, the reverence she had received from them whilst asleep…that was the real allure. To be served. Serviced. Worshiped, even. Was it…okay to want that feeling? Even …if it came with a few others?

Ah, but her sense of modesty would not go down without a fight.

"Excuse me?" she asked, as if outraged. "Of course not. There's nothing I— I—I…it was just a dream. I didn't have any control over it—"

Then Jareth tutted at her in the dark.

"Ah-ah," he said, tapping her nose playfully. "If you're going to try and lie your way out, at least come up with something plausible," he said, his hand moving from her nose down under the blanket. He felt around her rear then pulled on the underside of her thigh, hitching her leg over his hip. Then she felt his lips, they brushed against hers when he said, "We both know just how skilled you've become in dreams…"

Sarah's eyes threatened to close, her traitorous tongue darting out to touch Jareth's lip as he spoke to her. It was hard to control herself. She was just too aroused. And this wasn't the first time. She'd had feverish sex dreams leave her hopeless a handful of times recently, so maybe it really was just hormones and latent anxiety having their way with all of them. But regardless, Jareth had been the sole protagonist in those instances. This was the first time she'd dreamt of someone else. It was a totally different thing. And that person…was even more love-drunk than Jareth, at the moment.

Sarah's eyes were fluttering closed, enjoying the feeling of Jareth's hand touching her cheek and weaving over her scalp while Davion's kisses grew less indirect. She could still vaguely feel his cock wedged against her ass —it was starting to harden. She gulped nervously.

"...are you ashamed?" Jareth asked, and she forced open her tightly clenched eyes. He was staring at her patiently. She could see him better in the dark now. "Or are you just embarrassed?"

Sarah's mouth shrunk. She couldn't—didn't want to say, because it was an answer he already knew. Her face took on a kind of grimace, although even she was beginning to wonder why she was fighting herself so badly. Jareth observed her carefully all the while, his eyes cast without judgment as they moved over her face.

"I…don't know," she ended up saying, the words carrying indecisive strain. Jareth stroked her hair affectionately.

"Well…there's no reason for either," he said, then reached down to clutch one of her hands between them. "That dream of yours…has clearly left you wanting. It's alright, natural, to be in need…" Then she felt one of his legs pull up, his knee pressing lightly to her heated groin. She scowled in restraint. "Say the word and this will end," he said, then rubbed his knee in a little circle. "But it's worth noting that your scent, well…it's screaming the exact opposite of what's been tumbling out of your mouth." A mouth that then dropped open at the feeling of something skilled and firm massaging her clit. Jareth watched her, particularly the way she was careful not to make any noise of pleasure. Maybe…she just needed a little push. "Are you reluctant to admit it because you aren't interested or because of some…dubious moral quandary?" he asked, waiting until she opened her eyes and looked at him again before adding, "Again, the latter option is unnecessary."

His tone was candid, patient and even understanding. She knew he was trying to ease her reservations, but she was less than ready to admit it was actually working… She stammered through her next reply.

"I..I..I just…this isn't…" And she gulped hard, unknotting herself from both of them in a fluster. "I've never….you're the only one I've…"

But then Jareth and Davion's touch left her entirely. She paused and opened her eyes, feeling suddenly bereft and maybe actually a little guilty—

"Are you nervous?"

She felt Jareth's knuckles hook under her chin, turning her face to him. She shriveled under his gaze, even in the full dark as they were. Jareth's expression was soft, reflected in the way his thumbs stroked her chin. Sarah peered downward and licked her lip. Yes. Yes she was feeling incredibly nervous.

"...yes," she admitted. Her shoulders had gone tense. She didn't realize just how tightly she was bracing them until Davion's touch returned —placing a gentle hand over the dip in her waist.

"Why?" Davion asked, so innocently, his tired drawl bristling the hairs on the back of her neck. Sarah licked her lips again. It was…kind of pointless to bother lying, wasn't it?

"I…don't want things to get weird," she said, finally voicing her biggest hang up, then spoke to Jareth specifically. "I don't want you to think—"

But then Jareth huffed, like it was all so trivial.

"Ah. So it is a moral issue," he said, his voice dropping. His eyes fell down her front, a motion soon followed by his hand as he teasingly felt his way down her waist. The tips of his fingers passed over Davion's own with intent, traveling low and ghosting across her groin —and he did not miss the way she held her breath in anticipation. The smell in the air reflected as much, which compelled Davion to tighten his grip on her and pull her back to meet his mouth, nipping her shoulder again.

"I've told you before, I would welcome a thousand others into our bed—" Jareth started to say, speaking calmly while his fingers danced over her lower stomach. "—whomever, should you desire them, simply because it is our bed." A long middle finger dared stroke down, pressing into the folds of her pajamas just over her clit. She whimpered and shifted her knees. His gaze got a little clouded when he said, "You won't be doing anything with him, because I am here with you. These are experiences we will have together. You're allowed to want them. Allowed to have them. You don't need to hold yourself back."

Sarah scowled. The way he was verbalizing the same edicts she'd told herself in her dream was uncanny.

"But…it's…wrong," she muttered, although even to her it sounded forced. Jareth reached up and clutched the side of her face firmly, making sure she was looking at him.

"It's not wrong," he said, without a blink. Sarah stared into his eyes, comforted by his surety. She watched him run his tongue over the back of his teeth, then his eyes lowered to her mouth, his next words coming much softer. "Your scent is so strong at the moment that you could lull us both back to sleep, if you truly wanted," he said, then one brow arched. Or…"

Sarah could not help but be drawn in.

"...or?" she repeated.

Jareth's eyes slowly moved back up to hers, some dark and wild thought settling itself in his mind. He looked at her intently and, with some restraint of his own said, "...we could take things slow."

Sarah's teeth sank further down into her lower lip. A poignant pause followed Jareth's suggestion. And then, with only a hint of intrigue, she asked, "...what do you mean, slow?"

Ah, and there she was, his diamond in the rough, revealed to all in pristine clarity amidst such a heavy pall. Jareth, with his eyes never straying from hers, took her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing her knuckles one by one just as Davion, perfectly in tune, trailed his hand lightly down her arm and slyly ran his tongue in a circle over her neck. It made her shiver—

"Slow," Jareth said, watching her steadily relax under Davion's tender care, his eyes growing more ravenous at the sight. "...unlike in your dreams."

A sharp intake of breath. An edge to the scent in the room. Jareth was sure to keep her attention fixed on him within the darkness by running her knuckles over his lips, kissing them, while his fingers stroked her palm. It was a simple, chaste touch, as were Davion's slow kisses peppering her neck, moving light and teasingly over sensitive, overly self-conscious skin. The touch was affectionate and revering, without any suggestions or threat thereof. Almost…like in her dream. Perhaps it was meant to reassure her but, as the seconds passed by slower and slower, it had her feeling more restless than nervous —caught in constant expectation of something else. Something…more intense.

Davion kept his eyes closed, reposed like some lazy cat as he licked and touched his sweet sister —and so very sweet she was. He didn't even feel the slightest inclination to read into her mind. Well…maybe a little… He peered in and caught a glimpse of her staring up at him, teary eyed and flushed, gasping while he relentlessly fucked her face—

Oh. He stopped right there. What a lewd little girl she was, keeping such fun secrets all to herself. If he had more faculty, he might even gloat and tease her about it. Alas, he was very near writhing already, trapped by her scent in the most unexpected, delectable way possible. He didn't even bother glimpsing anything more. He didn't need to.

His hand pressed down her side, mapping the contour of her narrow waist and ample hip, groaning as he couldn't help but squeeze and lightly rock her hip back against his…

A barely there gasp escaped her open mouth, so quiet it was little more than a squeak.

"See?" Jareth asked, dragging his fingers up to her belly button, over her shirt, pulling up the hem just one, teasing inch. "Not so bad, is it?"

Sarah gulped again, but her following exhale dispelled some of her tension along with it. She deflated, feeling her body loosening up a little as Jareth's steady words guided her through. She shook her head no in response to his question. Jareth, watching her intensely, flicked his eyes up and down her face in careful regard.

"Davion," he said, sternly, the new tone catching Sarah off guard.

"Yes?" Davion languidly replied. The vibrations of his voice against Sarah's skin had her squirming in their hold. Jareth's eyes darted down and landed on Sarah's. She was gazing up at him, hanging on his next word. He didn't even think before angling his head down and giving her a brief kiss. It was tame, too chaste. It made her frown in restlessness.

"...your cock stays to yourself," Jareth said as he, so slowly, pulled out of the kiss, his voice commanding despite the hazy way he stared at her. He gauged Sarah's reaction to what he'd said and, when she noticeably relaxed into her pillow, added a resolute, "Understood?"

Davion, far too happy already to even consider pressing his luck, ground himself against Sarah's backside, murmuring contentedly into her neck.

"Mhm…" he replied, coyly. "Unless she changes her mind…"

"Davion…" Sarah muttered, her expression tight.

"Yes, darling?" he asked.

"...please stop talking."

Davion paused, caught off guard, but too strongly under her thrall to feel snubbed. He actually laughed, a soft chuckle in his throat, and hugged her tightly.

"Heh, alright. If it makes you feel better…"

Her hand instinctively went down to where he was hugging her, grasping his wrist firmly but not pulling him away. She just squeezed, still fighting herself.

She felt Jareth's touch next —just the backs of his knuckles, trailing down her arm. She relaxed again, almost immediately. He could tell she wanted to stay focused on him, to acknowledge only him. And that was fine. In fact…it was cute.

The next minutes passed slowly for Sarah, just as she'd been promised. She was still on edge, still over thinking and worrying over something that she couldn't even articulate. Davion's touch, which she was in terror of all but hours ago, was all encompassing and…surprisingly unthreatening. It wasn't forceful or expectant. He just…held her, nuzzled her, cuddled her to an extent that Jareth rarely engaged in. It was…different but…it was so dark. If she focused…it was like they were Jareth's hands…

Sensing she'd finally let down her guard, Jareth leaned in and planted a long kiss to her forehead. Sarah closed her eyes and savored it. Then she felt another on her cheek, then the other, then one more press lightly to her lips. She exhaled softly through her nose, focusing on Jareth's feel and scent but…honestly…she was feeling less of a need to. The warmth of Davion's breath and the carefulness of his touch was the same as Jareth's, unequivocally adoring.

She closed her eyes and arched her neck back, offering it to Davion.

Davion pulled back for a moment, surprised, then hummed in satisfaction and went back in with more zeal. He bit the muscle at the back of her neck, grinning when she shivered and shifted again. Her leg impulsively pulled back from Jareth's hip so her knees could squirm together. Davion loosened his embrace and reached down, passed her hip, to the hem of her nightshirt that he then began to carefully bunch up. If she tensed, it was from anticipation.

She felt safer beneath the blanket, like she wasn't actually being exposed despite the way her shirt steadily inched higher up to her stomach. It came to drape over her ribs, but the hand that was first to touch her bare skin was Jareth's.

She felt it clamp over her hip possessively, rocking her pelvis so that she rocked back against Davion's groin again, harder. And then Davion's grasp joined Jareth's. She felt his hand creep under the folded hem of her shirt and spread over the curve of her waist. She may have sucked in her stomach in reaction, but not out of apprehension. She felt…excited now, waiting to find out who would do what next. But, even with that new kind of tension brewing about her, it was all just…soothing. Like a massage. Well…if only for another moment.

Davion's hands, curled around her, gradually moved up under her shirt, gently mapping the ridges of her ribs, the flat plain of her stomach, the soft dip of her hip. He was careful not to touch her breasts, however, and ended the caress high up on her ribs, holding her just a hairsbreadth beneath her breasts. The tension in the heated space between made her nipples harden again, peaking against the thin material of her clothes.

She unconsciously arched her back, searching for more stimulation, hinting that she wanted to be touched there. She made a breathy noise when her nipples brushed against Jareth's chest, a sound that Jareth was quick to steal with a kiss.

She murmured into his mouth, not expecting him to kiss her as passionately as he did. His mouth was hot and demanded entry, prying apart her lips and curling his tongue behind her teeth. She had to open her mouth wide to return it, her hands impulsively rising to his chest. The hand still holding her hip rocked her against Davion's groin again, making him mutter a moan into the back of neck.

She could feel Davion's erection flex between her ass cheeks, kept safe behind the confines of his sleeping pants. She was glad Jareth had made his decree, for it seemed that assurance alone was all that she needed to trust that things would not go too far…tonight.

Davion pressed their bodies together more firmly, moving one knee forward, aligning it with Jareth's in her groin and forcing her legs to spread wider apart. She lifted her knee higher, back to Jareth's hip, leaving her…more open than before. She felt a subtle churn of Davion's hips, but it was gentle. She was just getting acclimated to that when she felt his hands, the ones she'd almost forgotten were hovering over her ribs, move up one millimeter at a time. Her mouth actually dropped open in anticipation, a faint moan escaping her when the edges of his hands just barely grazed the underside of her breasts.

A little jolt had her back bowing and her breathing picked up. She panted through Jareth's endless kiss while his brother let his fingers slyly splay and start fondling the underside of her breasts.

She'd never been touched there by anyone besides Jareth. She'd always been too self-conscious of the leering looks school boys had given her, being the early bloomer that she was. No, she'd never…been groped or pinched, or teased like that by any other hands —any other man's hands. He reached up a little more, exploring the weighty flesh and testing its softness, until finding her nipples. She gasped at the first contact, her body going stiff against the little pinch and roll of his fingers over the hardened buds.

The practiced way in which he played, the way that Jareth naturally inched his chest back to give his brother enough room to do so, reminded her of their combined experience and thus her lack thereof. They didn't speak to one another, acting in perfect, familiar harmony with one another. It made her wonder if this was a situation they had often found themselves in, in the past —when they got along and didn't pretend to hate one another. She presumed the answer was yes, their liberal attitudes and the complementary mannerisms that she'd glimpsed in Fyrn being a strong aid to the argument. As Davion's right hand kneaded the weight of her breast, his thin fingers rolling the nipple then pulling in a tantalizing sucking motion, she couldn't help but go back to her dream, to the erotic way they'd locked gazes while using her. A part of her…wanted that…for real.

Jareth's kisses slowed to something sensual while his hand lowered to unbutton the front of her night shirt, then brushed the open halves out of the way. She moaned at the feeling of Jareth's touch joining his brother's, their large hands overlapping and taking turns toying with her. Her own arms went up and around Jareth's neck, clinging to him while panting into his mouth with tightly clenched eyes. She had to. To open them and acknowledge what was happening would ruin her.

Davion held one of her breasts, pushing it up and on display while Jareth rubbed the top of her nipple in nerve-crippling circles. And—fuck.

She was distracted by Jareth's careful attention and so hardly noticed when Davion let go and felt his way back down her stomach. The hand reaching over her came to brace her hip, churning her pelvis in little rocking motions that mimicked another kind of undulation —all while the arm wrapped under her angled down, his other hand steadily inching close to her groin. She started pushing back of her own accord, seeking the pressure of his erection and grinding back against it. The hand he held pressed to her lower stomach was dangerously close to her sex. She felt her muscles clenching over and over as she waited for someone, either of them, to touch her there. She even opened up her legs more, practically inviting Davion in.

She frowned when he left her hanging, keeping his hand pressed over her PJ pants just above anything that might actually feel good, wanting to keep her anticipation building instead.

But that may have been to his own detriment. He felt Sarah's pheromones spike again and he faltered, his grip on her loosening for a split second while he groaned and buried his face into her shoulder. He needed a minute…to just bask in it. It was…sublime.

But Davion was not the only one affected by that sudden spike. Jareth was forced to break his kiss for the same reason. He pressed their foreheads together and shuddered, breathing in heavily. Her compulsion got the better of him, leaving his gaze as little more than a sliver when reaching down, passed Davion's hand. With a sense of authority that Davion lacked, he dipped under the waistband of her pants and panties to access the heated spot between her open legs and gave her what she was so obviously asking for.

He ran his fingers through her slit without ceremony, making her flinch, and groaned at the hot smear of wetness that coated his fingers. He pulled his hand up, rubbing her clit, then swept down again, spreading her lips and dipping into her hot, open, ready little cunt. Her hips began to fidget, pulsing, searching for penetration. He would only tease her opening, however, coating his fingers with more and more of her fluids until it spread to her thighs.

Should he tell her how aroused her body was behaving? How open and eager her pussy was right now? She wanted to be fucked, but by whom he had no idea —and it thrilled him. He didn't care that she'd chosen Davion for their partner. He wasn't lying, this was an experience he regarded as solely between them. He was curious to see how far she would take things, how much she would let herself indulge before her nerves caught up with her again.

Two wet fingers slid their way a little deeper, penetrating her, but just by an inch. He felt her clench around him, trying to pull his hand in, trying to get him to fuck her that way —ah but he didn't. He refused. This was too precious a moment to squander away so quickly.

She ground herself against Jareth's hand, which in turn ground her against Davion. She heard him moan a little, but he didn't do anything in response —holding back. It was like he was deferring to Jareth and following his lead. She liked that, just like in her dream.

She didn't know what kind of signals she was putting out, but it must have been something strong because, almost simultaneously, both brothers hummed and slowed their movements. Davion's arms wound all around her again, burying his face into the crook of her neck and just holding her in an intimate embrace. She also felt Jareth's other arm, beneath her pillow, flex and start to pull back. He fisted the blanket and lifted his free arm to curl up around her head, pulling himself close to breathe in the scent. She felt his nose graze along her forehead and felt his hot breath flush the skin. She was effectively trapped again, tangled between two sets of arms and legs. Starting to feel suffocated by them, she slithered her hand up between her and Jareth and clutched his broad shoulder, trying to pull herself up an inch while inadvertently pressing her now exposed breasts against him. Her little squirms incited Davion's hands to clumsily reach up and massage her breasts again, toying with her nipples by dragging them along the soft hairs on Jareth's chest. The stimulation hit her harder than she expected, a little fire churning like a pang in her belly and making her even more restless. Her legs began to shift, her toes teasingly mingling between both Jareth and Davion's.

The heat and humidity of being pressed like a plank between two bodies, cloaked in a blanket, was making her pant. It was hot, literally, and that scandalous, humid air was soon to flood the rest of the cabin. Davion's firm grip on her breasts, the way he pressed the pad of each index finger to the pert hole of her nipples, moving in little circles…the fact that she knew his knuckles were brushing against Jareth's chest, letting him feel what was being done to her, was enough to actually make her body sway to the rhythm. She wanted to feel more. Wanted to do more. In some frustration, she reached down and grabbed hold of Jareth's erection through his pants, stroking her hand up the full length of it, firmly.

Jareth moaned but held back, keeping the sound restrained to his throat. He inhaled sharply through the nose, wafting in her pheromones while she impatiently stroked his cock. He did not mind her lack of form, however. He was too intoxicated to care about anything beyond her own pleasure.

He kissed her again, with an open mouth, his tongue hot and messy as it played with her own. She met him kiss for kiss, imperatively, trying to provoke him to do more. He finally listened, inching down to leave a trail of pecks down to her chest —while his free hand lowered to touch her slit again.

He ran his fingers through her wet cleft, parting the folds and pressing in to the first knuckle. It wasn't enough for her. He could tell by the way her pussy clenched and her body squirmed. And there was a frown on her face —a so very spoiled little frown. He hooked his fingers deeper, then started to thrust.

Sarah's mouth opened and let out airy moans, her body stilling as Jareth pleasured her. The spike in arousal it gave her reflected in the moans coming from over her shoulder and the subtle grind of Davion's hips against her rear. He was hard too. Just as hard as Jareth, who pulsed in her hand each time he made her moan. She started thinking about her dream again, about how wild and unbidden she'd been. She wanted to be like that for real. She wanted to stop being afraid and let herself have these experiences. She wanted the confidence it brought her and the intimacy she felt growing between her and Jareth. And even…even Davion, she supposed. She felt safe in his arms, and that wasn't something she was ever expecting to feel.

Davion's hands had moved lower, holding her hips at a sharp angle where he could feel the force of Jareth's thrusting fingers reverberate back into his own cock. And it was so good. Just her smell was so good. He didn't even need to touch her or be touched. Her wiles in the darkness would have been satisfying enough. Oh, so what a treat this all was. What an unexpected thrill to wake up to. He focused on her scent, losing himself in it as she came closer and closer to her orgasm. He could sense it in the pitch of her voice and feel it in the tension coursing through her body. She was close. So wonderfully close.

Jareth shared those thoughts and drove his fingers deeper, faster, pushing her to the edge just so that he and Davion could fall over it. She was so wanton. So fucking perfect. He adored her, beyond her scent, loved her, cherished her, worshipped her. She was breathing erratically and her grip suddenly let go so she could claw her hands into his shoulders instead, holding him in place as she closed her eyes and focused. She was thinking of the way Davion had felt when she fucked him, wondering if her imagination would turn out to be anything close to the real thing. Then she thought of Jareth watching her, eyes smoldering with lust and pride in her…

She felt her muscles clench tightly around Jareth's fingers when it finally hit her —an orgasm so sudden and strong it was twisting up her stomach and drawing up her knees. Her nails tensed and dug into the flesh of Jareth's shoulders, one hand clawing down his arm mercilessly, leaving red-hot scratches in its wake. Her head craned back and she moaned, louder than before, but still half-trapped in her throat. As much as she wanted to let go, she was still conscious of their surroundings. And the idea of anyone overhearing them right now was—was just not something she needed to worry about right now.

The surge of pheromones that flooded through that tiny cabin was turbulent enough to subdue both males in an instant, the waves and compulsion so strong and insistent, sharing her pleasure with them as if it was their own orgasm. Both Jareth and Davion moaned without holding back, experiencing a full sense of satisfaction without any physical release of their own. And that was fine —better even. Perfect. Neither one even wanted to fuck her or to cum. The sensation she was giving them through that pummeling orgasm was so much deeper, so much better. Her scents had driven them to serve and love her, to take care of her in the specific way that she needed. She may not understand it, but scenting her satisfaction, fulfilling that need alone was the best kind of exhilaration. It left them both breathless, enduring wave after wave of it while she whimpered and twitched between their bodies. Jareth pulled his hand out of her while she settled, unable to resist the scent of her cum and licking it clean.

His fingers reached deep into his mouth and he sucked, but the taste was fleeting on his flattened tongue. As Sarah writhed, he felt his hand being pulled back. He opened his eyes and watched intently in the darkness as Davion leaned up, over Sarah, then clutched his hand and selfishly tasted whatever traces remained on his fingers for himself. Sarah, sensing Davion's movements, opened her eyes and watched from her peripheral, titillated all over again by the vague sight of Davion lapping at Jareth's wet fingers. A low growl reverberated in Jareth's chest, something she tangibly felt in their intimate proximity. And that was…that was…

She peered at Jareth next, her stare wide and ravenous as she watched him watch his brother, his expression fixed and angry with arousal. The way he allowed it—enjoyed it, even— it was hot. Provocative. Dangerous —as was the way Davion's eyes rolled back in pleasure at the taste of her, his tongue darting out to lazily stroke along his brother's fingers…

Davion let go once his brother's hand was clean, clutching her by the upper arm before lowering himself back to the bed with a groan. There was an ease about him, like his hunger had been satiated. It was a feeling reflected in Jareth as his wet hand drew back and nestled between them.

She wondered if they would start touching her again, use her like she'd just used them, but they didn't. No, surprisingly to her, they did not make any further moves at all.

She was vaguely suspicious about it, but was too tired and content to think about it too deeply. When her orgasm finally passed and some semblance of clarity came back to the three of them, Jareth reached up and cupped her face with his hand, his fingers still wet with Davion's saliva, pressing to her cheek. She was wide-eyed and breathless, looking so sweet and bemused. He couldn't help but tenderly kiss her forehead. The pressure of his lips lingered there, conveying love, protection, and pride. She regarded those things clearly through his touch alone, the sentiment enough to calm her breathing. Sanity returned and so did the silence. Davion's hands were running over her affectionately, more kisses of gratitude dotting her back. It was soothing and she felt herself relax under it, both physically and mentally. But…now she was both ludic and satisfied, and she couldn't help but wonder…what came next.

She kept waiting for one of them to do something, to take their turns and use her pitifully wrecked body to chase their own ends. She was even going to let them, should they express the intent…but they didn't. In fact, they showed no further interest in sex at all.

She felt the return of her anxiety as she peered around in the dark, waiting and tensing and, if she was being honest, frowning. They were still holding onto her, still tangled up and now sweaty. But, after Jareth had finally ended his forehead kiss, he just laid his head back down, eyes resplendently closed while his hand, by some lingering will of its own, lightly pet her hair. She regarded him worriedly, particularly the way he exhaled and then relaxed. It appeared he was going right back to sleep, as was Davion —his kisses slowing and slowing until ceasing entirely. She felt Jareth's arm settle around her shoulder, cradling her head, while Davion slid one hand up, between her breasts, if only to hug her tighter. And…that was it. They were done. And she…was disturbed to acknowledge that she wasn't completely happy about that.

She was thoroughly cocooned and feeling ever more self-conscious when she meekly asked, "Don't you…don't you want to…?"

She felt Jareth smile in the dark, his arm around her squeezing in reassurance.

"No, my love. We don't," he answered, breathily and damned-near euphoric. Sarah gulped, her eyes shifting to her peripheral.

"...are you sure?" she couldn't help but ask. Davion's chuckle, felt against her spine, made her shiver.

"Yes, darling…" he replied, laughter underlining the word. "You've given us more pleasure than we can handle, I'm afraid." Then he brushed his nose affectionately over her back. "If you want to continue…at least give us a moment to recuperate."

He was teasing her, the exhaustion in his voice carrying it away until it was little more than a mumble. He sounded happy, sated, and half-conscious —like they were a couple of drugged out animals. That analogy had her biting her lip, her toes curling from the intrigue. She decided she liked this aspect of her pregnancy afterall. She liked being able to undo them to such a crippling degree. And not just them, but any man. They would all fawn and cuddle and be rendered fully docile by her will alone, at present —those all powerful beings who held the lives of thousands in their hands, who could create wondrous things from thin air, who had controlled and killed and ravaged. They were like dogs now, catering to her and happy to do so, with apparently nothing expected in return. And that…that was truly empowering.

Her anxiety lulled as she followed those thoughts, feeling weirdly at ease instead. Neither one said anything more and she gauged from their shallow breathing that they may have already fallen back asleep. She found that marvelous. Adorable, even. It made her smile. Made her huddle further into their touch. She felt…truly cherished. Hopefully that feeling would persist when the sun came up.

---

Sarah awoke sometime later thoroughly entangled, the limbs of contented male fae laying heavily over her body. She blinked in the darkness, uncertain if it was actual morning or still the dead of night. She heard no noises beyond their little bubble, so she suspected it was too early to rise. And that was fine. She was too cozy to get up at the moment, anyway.

She relaxed against her pillow and sighed, starting to actively like her little cocoon.

Jareth and Davion breathed silently on either side of her, ensnared by her wiles and trapped in a deep sleep. No further sexy fever dreams had taken over her subconscious, which she inferred had kept the air in the cabin consistent and calm.

She shifted her shoulders in search of the blanket that had shimmied its way down, then felt an unconscious flex of Davion's hand around her torso in reaction. A blip of a smile flashed over her face, quietly enjoying both the security and the power she held over them. And it was kind of funny, really. Jareth had been ready to throw his brother out by the hair all but a few hours ago. And now here they were, all snuggled up with his arm lazily strewn overtop Davion's, which was lazily strewn over her. She counted that as progress—in whatever weird, perverse way that she could.

Enveloped by feelings of ease, Sarah wiggled deeper into their clutches and quickly fell back asleep.

She was alone when she woke up the second time.

Sensing true morning, she opened her eyes readily, her body now fully rested and without the lingering ache of fatigue. Feeling bereft, she sat up in the dark and looked around. Hair slivers of sunlight shone through a couple of seams around the chamber, which told her it was both daytime and that her companions had apparently gone forth without her.

She rubbed at her eyes and smoothed back her hair, letting out a sigh as she steadied her way into full consciousness. A muffled bit of chatter resonated from outside, along with the crackle and pop of a fire. She figured that meant she was the last one to rise, like always, and kicked her butt into gear.

She buttoned up her shirt, then crawled her way to the door and sat up on her knees in preparation to open it. But then she paused, something dire springing to mind as she sat by her lonesome in that quiet, closed off little cabin.

She remembered something Jareth had said during the night…about her scent —how it was trapped in the carriage. Her hand slowly pulled back from the latch and lowered, paranoia making her wonder what exactly would be unleashed should she casually open it. They'd all gotten pretty darn worked up and she'd been baking in it all night. She imagined…she probably smelled pretty ripe right about now, by their standards. And the mortification she felt by the mere imagining of the looks she might receive from Roldan and Mariella should they catch a whiff and thus discover what she'd done, and with whom, were enough to make her cringe.

Ah…but she'd made this bed herself, hadn't she? In more ways than one. Time to own up to it, she supposed. Stop shaming herself when actually…she was feeling pretty darn good.

She started by opening the door just an inch, feverishly scanning her one eye over the camp. Some of the goblins were setting out their breakfast in one of the tents, which was where she saw Amara and Roldan standing in conversation. Andeas was talking to one of the goblins to the right. Jareth and Davion were nowhere to be seen. And Mariella…

Oh shit. There she was, walking right past her—

She poked her head out and made an aggressive "Pssssst" sound at her, followed by a hushed "Mariella—"

Mariella stopped on a dime, her back straightening like a gopher popping out of its hole, then turned her head sharply towards Sarah. Her face was agape in surprise. Sarah, the disembodied head, was already wincing.

"Sarah? Oh my goodness. You startled me!" She lifted a hand to her heart and smiled. Her voice was a bit too lively for Sarah's liking, however. She was going to catch everyone else's attention. Her eyes darted over at the rest of them, then she awkwardly inched back into the carriage. Marie saw this reaction and her expression flipped to concern. "Are...are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sarah whispered, quickly, then shook her head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just—shh. Come over here." Her eyes widened imperatively and she poked out a little hand to wave at Marie in a come hither motion. Mariella's head cocked dubiously, then she scampered over the few feet that separated them. Her shoulders hunched and she moved to make herself a shield between Sarah and everyone else, worriedly whispering back,

"What's wrong? Is something the matter? Why are you just a head?"

Sarah pursed her lips together and frowned deeply, gnawing on a lip as she trudged through self-imposed embarrassment.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine, I swear. I just…could you maybe…bring me one of your blankets or something?" she asked. Mariella's own brows scrunched together just as tightly.

"Yes?" she replied, eyes shifting. "...but why, if I may ask?"

Sarah licked her lips, averting her eyes from Marie's while her toes curled restlessly in the shadows.

"I just uh…I don't want anyone to…um…smell me right now…" she said, using particular emphasis. Her eyes darted left and right, then she looked up at Marie again, meekly. "And I'm pretty sure all the blankets in here are just as bad. If you…know what I mean…"

She frowned as she practically spelled out her debauchery to one of the two people she'd rather keep it from. Marie had a special thing for Davion after all. And, while she had repeatedly affirmed it was a no strings attached relationship, her own involvement with the same man was suddenly making her feel both awkward and a little guilty.

Ah, but Mariella's eyes lit right up —the realization hitting her both promptly and excitedly.

"Oh…" she said, her mouth turning into a little o as she fought back the wicked smile she would so much rather express. Then, with gaping, wild-looking eyes, she nodded her head deftly. "I understand. I'll get you something to cover up with right away—" She acted like she was going to dash off right then and there, but she paused. She paused and just the hint of a rascally smirk got the better of her. Her eyes slanted back to Sarah's, impish and narrowed. "But Sarah…you devil you…"

Sarah's face puffed up frantically.

"Oh you just shut up—" she impulsively snapped, then quickly checked both her tone and the surrounding area. No one had heard her, thank goodness. She forced herself to relax, then spoke more calmly. "Just…please bring me your biggest, most inconspicuous blanket or robe or something? I will be forever indebted to you."

Mariella snickered wickedly.

"Of course. Of course," she said, waving a flirty hand at her while her eyes twinkled in delight. "I'll be right back…"

Sarah rolled her eyes as Mariella practically skipped away, ducking her head back into the shadows and closing the door to a sliver. She waited a moment and then Marie was back again. Sarah opened the door and Marie stuck her hand through, offering her a full-length dressing robe that would, hopefully, be thick enough to contain her bouquet. She put it on hastily and tightened the belt tight. Then, with a centering breath, she squared her shoulders and ventured outside.

Mariella stepped back when the door opened, offering Sarah a hand to help her down the steps. Sarah closed the door behind herself promptly, her worried eyes shifting all over the place like a flighty little mouse.

Mariella was struggling so hard to contain her glee that she was actually biting on her lips.

"So…you had a good night, I take it?" she asked, her shoulders wiggling in rhythm with her canny eyebrows. Sarah could feel the blush burning her face. She stared daggers at Mariella for one pointed second, then raised a firm hand between them.

"Nope. I am not talking about this with you," she said, sternly. "It's too embarrassing and…awkward."

The tip of Mariella's tongue stuck out as she bit it, an unnerving smile now etched into her face.

"Why would it be awkward?" she asked, titillated beyond all belief to uncover this bit of gossip. Then the implication of Sarah's question finally hit her and her brows lifted high. "Oh! You mean because of Davion and I's history?" she asked. Sarah, on guard, nodded. Mariella rolled her eyes and waved her off with a scoff. "Oh Sarah, don't be silly. I've told you this before, remember?" she said, but the look on Sarah's face told her she didn't quite believe her. Mariella settled herself down and regarded her a touch more seriously. "Honestly, Sarah, you don't need to worry about any of that. I don't care what kind of relationship you have with Davion, so long as it's a happy one," she said. The smile that followed was a bit softer than before, more compassionate. "I'm just glad to see the three of you getting along," she added, the affection in her words matching the sincerity in her eyes. Then she pursed her lips in an even smaller grin and looked Sarah pointedly in the eye, even reaching out for her hands. "I'm sure whatever happened has made Davion very happy—in more ways than one," she said, then squeezed Sarah's hands. "That's one thing that I do care about."

The connection of Mariella's gaze on Sarah's was strong and passed unspoken dialogue warmly and resolutely. Sarah's shoulders relaxed as she accepted it, realizing that she didn't mean happy in a perverted sense, but rather…happy that he'd grown closer to her, happy that he'd gotten to spend time with his brother—his only remaining family. Remembering how alone and abandoned Davion felt…the notion hit her right in the chest and her eyes lowered briefly. Right…to be welcomed and accepted by Jareth…had probably meant a lot more to Davion than she'd realized in the moment.

"Yeah…you're probably right," she replied to Marie, still fighting off residual awkwardness as her eyes searched the background. "Where are they, by the way?" she asked, glancing back at the camp impulsively.

"Oh, they went to the spring to freshen up," Mariella said. Her attention fixed on a spot in the woods, then slanted back to Sarah.

"What?" Sarah replied, head cocked in confusion. "You mean they went together?" she asked. "Willingly?"

That feverish buzz of a smile returned to Mariella's face, fiercely restrained by the pursing of lips only to manifest as a subtle jittering in her frame. Oh gosh. She wasn't going to let this one go for a while, was she?

"Mhm. It's amazing isn't it?" she asked, so gosh darn excited. Sarah could practically see stars shooting across her eyes. "They went just after Amara and I returned. And they hardly bickered at all when they emerged from your cabin earlier this morning. Isn't that fantastic? They were acting like right brothers, they were." Then she clutched her hands and pressed them to her sternum dramatically. "It warms my heart."

Sarah was unable to reciprocate Mariella's verve. She was just too awkward. She did, however, agree with her.

"That's…good, at least," was the best she could come up with. A strained smile cracked her face and she hunched her shoulders. Apparently confidence was a lot harder to muster in the daylight.

"Oh—Good morning, Sarah." Sarah blinked to attention as Andeas spotted her while passing near. He smiled at her chipperly. "I hope you slept well?"

Sarah wrapped her arms around her midsection, just in case something stupid happened like the wind turning trickster and making off with her bathrobe.

"Mhm," she replied, smile still strained wide. "And you?"

Andeas dipped his head towards her.

"I did —although I was worrying a little about your situation," he said, and she caught a flicker of real concern passing through his eyes. "The Prince was well behaved, I hope?"

Sarah's eyes shot anywhere but at him —the poor, ignorant, good natured fellow.

"Uh…yeah. It was fine. We just went to sleep," she said, with a cute shrug. Her eyes continued shifting, conspicuous beyond all get-out. Mariella's lips pursed tightly together. And Andeas…well, maybe he wasn't as poor and ignorant as Sarah thought. A canny shift went through him, narrowing his eyes the smallest fraction. He did not comment on what he suspected, but the ghostly smirk cracking the corner of his lips was tell enough.

"Really? I'm shocked," Roldan abruptly interjected. Sarah whipped around to see him entering the fray as well. Amara was still a ways back, laughing at a goblin. Great, she thought, this is just so effing great… Roldan crossed his arms and glanced to the side, casual by all description. Sarah hoped that meant her barrier was working. "I had expected to hear him being thrown out on his ass five minutes into the evening," Roldan went on, none the wiser. "Your scent must have really subjugated them."

Oh, but that comment sent Sarah straight into a panic.

Her eyes widened frightfully and she clutched the lapels of her robe tight together.

"Um, my-my scent?" she stammered in response. Roldan arched a bemused brow at her.

"Yes?" he replied, not understanding what her extreme reaction was about. "And you're becoming so bashful because…?"

Sarah gaped. Right. She could will them to sleep now, apparently. That was what he meant. Not—not— And then her flustered mental freakout resumed. Oh geez. At that rate, if anything was going to give her away, it was going to be her own lack of discretion. Just. Stop. Panicking.

Sarah's mouth hung open in a look that was wholeheartedly disturbed. She paused that way for a moment, then sputtered back into gear.

"I…I don't know," she said, flatly, and entirely suspicious. Roldan's eyes twitched as he looked down on her, scrutinizing. Something gross had probably happened between them, judging by her feverishly darting eyes. But, beyond a mild curiosity, he honestly didn't care what was going on with her one way or another. Alas, seeing how she clearly needed a means of escape, he let out a bored exhale and loosened his grip on his arms.

"Let's pretend you did the civilized thing and commanded them to sleep rather than…whatever else it is that's making you fidget like that," he said, further interest dissipating to nothing under the weight of his deadpan speech. Sarah, looking about as flighty as a bunny in spring, froze utterly. God-fucking-dammit, Roldan...

"Um, yes. Let's do that," she said, unable to meet any of them in the eye while nodding affirmatively and simultaneously ignoring the subtext of what Roldan had just very boldly stated for everyone's ears. And now they all had an inkling, save Amara. Jesus Christ…

Roldan turned away and left, dismissing her panic without the least bit of tact. Andeas huffed to himself, looking deeply amused but she wasn't sure at whose expense. Then there was Marie, who was positively dying for details. Sarah could only smile at them awkwardly. Geez. Was this her new normal?

---

Jareth kept his eyes closed and his hands in his scalp as the pressure of a waterfall tumbled over him. The sound was loud and vacuumous. And, combined with the cool temperature of the water, was both physically and spiritually relaxing. After a long breath, he moved out from under the water and wrung the excess from his hair. Davion waded in a deeper spot a few feet away from him, reclining back to let his long hair billow freely under the surface. They'd been alone for a few minutes now. Jareth supposed that meant Davion had deemed them safe from prying ears when he finally decided to speak.

"So…" he began, leadingly, while the ripples of the waterfall bobbed him atop the water's surface. "I hear you're struggling with a charm?"

Jareth arched a brow and peered back at him, finding that choice of opening question, of all the things on the docket, curious.

"Where did you hear that?" he replied. Davion lifted his head then sank to his chin, moving about the water languidly.

"The proles were gossiping yesterday," he said, floating in a lazy circle around Jareth. "Was it meant to cover Sarah's scent?"

Jareth eyed the treeline, searching for vouyers, but he sensed nothing. The sound of the waterfall behind them was also raucous enough to muffle anything spoken beyond a few feet. So…he supposed it would be fine to speak freely.

"Yes," he answered. Davion cracked a grin.

"Then I take it you failed?"

Jareth averted his eyes and pulled back tendrils of hair that had stuck to his neck and shoulders.

"It would appear so, now wouldn't it?" he shot back, with only a slight snap. Davion gravitated towards the waterfall, mindlessly looking up the length of it while stretching a hand out beneath it, catching the water.

"I'm surprised. You and failure are not often paired together," he said, plainly. "Why didn't you just use an estolla plant? It works well. Gives one a faint, fruity scent."

Jareth's side eye on his brother was both pointed and slightly annoyed.

"I tried," he said, stretching his neck as the sun above warmed his bare shoulders. "Apparently estolla is more difficult to procure than I anticipated —at least within the few days I was given to find it."

"You don't keep it in stock?" Davion asked. Jareth looked over at him sharply.

"Of course not. Why the hell would I?" he asked, mildly offended. Davion held his gaze candidly, unaffected by it.

"...so you're giving up then?" he asked. "Preparing your jubilant speech by which you will profess Sarah's good news to the whole world at the opening ceremony in Erykberg?"

Davion's question was only half sarcastic. Jareth brooded while staring at him, then looked away grimly.

"...I don't see what other option there is," he said.

Davion pursed his lips and averted his eyes, craning his head back under the waterfall.

"Well…you could always go pick the ones I found growing in the glade on the walk here," he suggested.

Jareth turned his head back to Davion, his expression tensed with surprise.

"What?" he asked. Davion looked at him confusedly.

"Did you not notice it?" he asked in reply, eyes shifting. "It was right there, just off the path. It had a nice, sunny little spot between the trees and everything."

Jareth's eyes narrowed in suspicion. As far as he knew, estolla only grew in underground caves, under high humidity and perfect darkness —but apparently Davion did not know that detail.

"Oh, it does. Does it? A sunny little spot?" he repeated, mockingly, then glanced down at the dark surface of the water. "How terribly convenient."

Picking up on his brother's pensive undertone, Davion turned his attention away from the waterfall and gave it fully to Jareth, his brows drawing closer.

"Do you think it was placed there?" he asked, stupidly. "…by Liana?"

Jareth glanced over at him with a deriding huff.

"Who else?" he asked, countenance darkening at the mere mention of her. "I find there are very few coincidences where she is concerned—and this one is not exactly subtle."

Davion's stare fixed itself to Jareth contemplatively.

"Hm…maybe she wants to talk," he suggested, then peered off in the direction of the glade. "I will go with you, if you'd like."

Jareth shook his head, his eyes closing somberly.

"No," he said. "She'll be more likely to use candor if it's just me."

Davion stared at Jareth, letting his frown show through only while he wasn't looking back. Clearly his brother was being obtuse to the olive branch he just tried to extend. Or…maybe he was getting ahead of himself after the camaraderie they'd shared last night. Knowing the latter was probably true, he tried not to feel too disappointed by the rejection.

"Right…speaking of—" he said and, in light of that rejection, thought to get back at him —just a tad. "Now seems like a perfectly good opportunity to explain yourself."

Jareth, entertaining darkening thoughts of conspiracy, blinked out of that train of thought and looked over at Davion again.

"Pardon?" he asked.

Davion arched a brow at him.

"What in the hells happened since I last saw you?" he asked, inclining his head towards him imperatively. "Sarah is pregnant? When did that even happen?"

Ah. So he was finally ready to address the elephant in the pool. Jareth slanted his eyes away dismissively.

"Several months ago, apparently," he said. Davion hummed, unsatisfied with that response.

"Ah. Well then…should I be worried?" he asked, gliding a little closer. Jareth turned himself around to face him rather than having to keep looking over his shoulder.

"About?" he asked, aloof. Davion rolled his eyes.

"Anything…nefarious, let's say," he said, his gaze falling back to Jareth's deadpan. Jareth let him hold that stare for a couple pointed seconds, then he compulsively looked down.

"No. …not from Liana, at least," he said, ominously. Davion arched another brow.

"Oh? And you know this?" he asked. Jareth's glare shifted to the side.

"No. I don't," he admitted, frustratingly. "But I can do nothing else but take her word. She says she has no interest in the child beyond protecting it—and she has protected it. So I've been…operating on good faith."

Davion's stare became invasive, looking even more suspicious.

"Good faith?" he repeated, dryly. "Sounds fickle. Are you really content to deny this isn't part of some conspiracy on Liana's part? I find it hard to accept that she could even get pregnant so quickly."

Davion caught the way Jareth's eyes reflexively rolled and inferred from the gesture that there was more to be said on the matter. He gave him a stern eyeing when Jareth inevitably looked at him again, prompting him to elaborate.

Jareth came off as suddenly flustered when he then inhaled sharply and looked to the side.

"...she says that being the conduit of Nature has made Sarah impervious to fertility inhibitors. I should have expected that. It was a stupid oversight," he explained. Davion's eyes widened.

"Wait…did you have her on contraceptives?" he asked, aghast. Jareth flinched. Fuck. Had he really just let that slip? Davion was suddenly right next to him when he asked, with a rise, "Why?"

A pained wince twisted Jareth's face, his body instinctively angling itself away from Davion defensively. And that…was perhaps the most obvious expression of shame Davion had ever seen from his brother.

"It was what she wanted," he admitted, through a tight jaw. "And…at the time, I felt as though I had very little choice in the matter."

Davion, fully judging, made a condescending huff through his nose, looking rather haughty when he said, "You mean you had the opportunity to start fucking her with slightly less guilt?" Jareth's glare shot at him quickly in warning. The look alone was enough to make Davion backpedal. He rolled his eyes and raised a hand in appeasement. "Calm down. I'm not mocking you," he said, hardly convincing. "Actually, I fully understand. You want her to like you. And, since you've become such a lovesick sap, it makes perfect sense. It's a simple travesty, really. But…" And then his eyes roamed away slyly. "More than being impervious, I suspect Liana's influence has worked oppositely, hasn't it?" He looked back at Jareth, some lightbulb clicking on behind his eyes that had his brows lifting up his forehead. "This is insane," he said, realizing something marvelous. "She must be incredibly fertile now, with Liana speeding through her veins… Just imagine all the children you could have together, assuming it's an inadvertent development as you say. You could create your own personal army of hybrid spawn —my, you'd become legends."

Tch, it was just like Davion to make such a serious matter seem trite. Jareth sneered his lip and looked away.

"...that is not something I am even remotely concerned with," he replied, low. Davion shrugged him off.

"Of course not," he said, humoring him. Then, after an invasive raking of the eyes, he became more serious and asked, "But…is that all? You seem like you're holding back."

Jareth glowered at the water's surface, a myriad of thoughts churning about his burdened mind, much like the ripples breaking his own reflection. He didn't like voicing them. It was a dangerous matter even to speak of, regardless of their isolation. But…he admitted to himself that it was almost nice to share those burdens, even in this small capacity. The conversation reminded him of a time when he didn't quite loathe his brother so thoroughly.

He let out a subtle exhale, his brow drawn tight in disconcertion.

"I've been thinking…about the reason behind Bezaleel's excursion," he said. Davion stared at him quizzically.

"Oh? That's random. You think it has something to do with Sarah?" he asked, eyes narrowing curiously. "…does he know something?"

Jareth's jaw gritted.

"I don't know. That's what concerns me," he said, then looked up from the pool at Davion. "Has he passed over the border yet?"

"Yes. About a week ago," Davion replied. "—you're welcome for that, by the way."

Jareth impulsively scoffed.

"For what?" he asked, sardonically. "Doing your civic duty as a prince and hosting his welcome party?"

Davion, thinking this was not a joking matter at all, stared at Jareth gravely.

"Yes. Exactly," he said, fostering a new intensity in his eyes. "I was hoping you would express some sympathy for my plight, but…"

Jareth laughed, just a single, pompous ha.

"You've clearly survived, so what is there to be sympathetic about?" he asked, looking down his nose at his frivolous little brother. "I'm more interested in his experience. How did he act?"

Davion, with a deep seated pout, brushed off the insult expertly.

"Mm…like normal?" he replied, wincing in uncertainty. "Or whatever that can mean for him, at least. I was diligent in keeping a professional distance this time." Jareth did not appear pleased with that response, so he quickly elaborated further. "He was in good cheer, from what I gathered, and shared the company of many more of my courtesans than I expected." A little twinge of hurt poked through the end of his sentence, carried further by the way his eyes then lowered and he, so very petulantly added, "They actually flocked to him…"

Jareth cracked a mean grin. He just couldn't help it.

"Hmph, you're not getting insecure, are you?" he asked. Davion, surprisingly, shrugged while openly frowning.

"Well, maybe a little," he said, candidly. "He is a shapeshifter, after all." Then, with some remorse, he glanced away as memories of the affair steadily came back to him. "Ah…actually, the whole evening passed by perfectly. And my courtesans recounted nothing but praise. Now I'm wondering if I missed out by avoiding his advances…" Then he shook his head, needing to reaffirm himself. "Eh, but I can't take the chance. He's too sly. To be humiliated by him a second time? God's, I'd never be able to show my face in Court again."

Jareth, raising one exceedingly bored eyebrow after being forced to pay witness to that grueling thought process, stared at Davion deadpan.

"I'm shocked you can stand to show it now," he said, lackluster, then moved on to what mattered. "But you're sure? Were you even looking for anything suspicious?" he asked.

Davion nearly gasped in offense, puffing up in the chest as he stared hard at Jareth.

"I was, yes," he said, miffed. "We are still fruit of the same tree, Jareth. Paranoia is in our blood." Then he huffed and looked to the side, wet feathers ruffled. "I swear, I regarded nothing suspicious in his behavior. We spoke of complete trivialities and he appeared genuinely unbidden. He spoke nothing at all of Sarah or Liana. The most he asked was how you were fairing in your new marriage."

…but was that question not directly related to Sarah, Jareth wondered? He wanted to shake his head, beside himself over how his brother could be so exasperatingly doltish.

"And you replied?" he asked, keeping his insults to himself.

"—That it was a battle yet to be decided," he said, matter-of-fact. Then, after Jareth gave him a rather irritable eye, he finished with, "He laughed and said that was good, and that he looked forward to seeing you again. That was it."

Jareth looked to the waterfall, his countenance taking on something of anger as he ruminated. He was annoyed with Davion's recount, having expected him to take the matter a bit more seriously. The only reason why he didn't scold him was because he hadn't told him about the peculiarities between the three of them at the engagement celebration. Davion had no reason to read between the lines….but Jareth did. He was sure there was subtext behind Bezaleel's seemingly innocent inquiry, although he wouldn't be able to find out for certain until the man stood before him, face to face. He hoped his procession got lost somewhere tragic along the way.

"But…surely you're overthinking things, yes? Looking for devils in the details?" Davion asked, weirdly attuned to his train of thought. Jareth looked over at him guardedly. "You have a habit of sabotaging yourself. And this seems like one hell of a deflection. So I feel compelled to ask, precariousness aside, you are…happy about this, right?" And he paused to lock eyes with Jareth. "...to have a child with her?"

The two brothers shared a long look, weighted by ghosts and unspoken memories shared. A grim dialogue passed between them in the silence, and then Jareth deftly broke free of it.

"There is…something else to worry about —a risk far more serious than mysteriously sprouting estolla or Bezaleel's eccentricities," he said, gazing waywardly at nothing. Davion, sensing headiness, began to frown. "Liana has warned that if Sarah awakens her power now, she could lose both the child's life and her own. Also…if there are complications during her labor…"

But Davion did not want him to have to finish that sentence, so he did it for him.

"She could compel her own awakening, risking the same fate," he said, soberly. Jareth brows knitted and his eyes lowered.

"Yes…"

And now the mood was as murky as the water they waded in. Davion's eyes roamed along the water's surface, thinking of what to say to salvage it.

"I see. That is a serious matter," he replied, reaching up to scratch the back of his head, feigning awkwardness. "—but you haven't answered the question." And he waited for Jareth to look at him again. "Are you happy, brother?"

An unusual amount of understanding was passing between them today, Jareth thought. And, while deep down he knew otherwise, his integral sense of bitterness fueled the denial that wrote it off as residual effects of Sarah's pheromones. There was no other reason for them to be getting along or speaking so easily to one another. No other reason for the feeling of familiarity and trust he was experiencing from the stern lock of their gazes.

He felt uncomfortable now but had little place to escape to. They were alone, chest deep in the water and naked. He'd hear all about his rudeness back at camp if he simply poofed away now.

A simmering feeling held him back from speaking readily. He hated that it was still there. That, after everything, he had yet to fully conquer his reservations.

"...yes," he forced himself to say. Because, beyond that latent anxiety, that was the truth. "I am…happy."

Davion frowned. Those words had come out of Jareth's mouth as arduously as pulling one's teeth. He understood why, of course, which was why he'd asked. Jareth was never one to share his feelings, however, even on the best day. And this matter in particular….was the one he'd kept buried the deepest. The fact that they were speaking of past tragedies at all, even adjacently, was more progress, in Davion's opinion, than could be accurately stated.

Davion looked down in thought for a moment, then back up with a smile and clapped Jareth warmly on the shoulder.

"Then that's what matters most," he said, grinning with what he hoped Jareth would see as reassurance. Jareth eyed him warily, but at least he hadn't pushed him away. "We can figure the rest out, Liana and Bezaleel, and anything else that comes along," Davion went on, fully confident in the declaration. "I infer there is still the possibility of all this passing safely, yes? Should she remain ignorant and in good health?"

"In theory…" Jareth said. Davion huffed, letting his hand slip from Jareth's shoulder.

"Then, maybe, try focusing on that," he said. Jareth didn't like putting Davion and wisdom in the same thought, so he didn't. "And, don't snap at me for saying this—" Davion started up again which, naturally, had Jareth preparing to snap. "But it would be a terrible waste for you to squander this opportunity, again, by spending it worrying about all the wrong things." And their eyes locked in all seriousness. "Don't you agree?"

Jareth was silent for a moment, taking his words to heart with a level of transparency that admittedly surprised Davion. It made him hopeful that an actual bridge might be formed of this. And, if it did, he would have to bestow Sarah a thousand blessings for it. He waited for a response but his own insecurity got the better of him. He changed the subject abruptly to lighten the mood.

"...I still can't believe you didn't tell me, by the way," he grumbled. Jareth latched onto the tangent readily.

"I told you, I haven't told anyone unless absolutely necessary."

Davion huffed snidely.

"I find it interesting that you went out of your way to tell me she'd been nearly killed by a herdsman, but this is somehow less important?" He was mostly teasing, but a twinge of scolding and hurt lurked underneath. It was something Jareth resented picking up on.

"...or maybe I just didn't want to deal with the following inquisition, as I am now," he grumbled. Davion frowned, staring at his brother imperatively.

"Jareth," he said, with enough sobriety to earn Jareth's actual attention. He looked over at him with a tight mouth, fully anticipating the sorry look on Davion's face. "You should have told me and you know it," he said. "Before anyone."

Stiffness formed in Jareth's posture as Davion's quibble of a stare bore into him, and the guilty conscience it was eliciting from him was beyond irritating. And why he felt that way at all, he had no clue. He did not answer to his brother. He did not owe him anything, especially not an explanation. And yet…

Jareth glared away petulantly, practically grumbling out his reply.

"You are incessant and annoyingly spoiled," he said, then carefully looked back from his peripheral. "And I will not say that I'm sorry."

Davion was silent, his stare deep and prying. An onlooker might think his brother had been nothing short of cold hearted in that response…but they were blood. They were raised together, raised by each other in some sense, and he knew his brother better than anyone. No, he may not ever say the words outright. But he would say them, nonetheless.

A smile Davion hadn't expressed in a long, long time spread widely across his face, and it brought them back to a time in their youth. Jareth, in thinly veiled embarrassment, looked away again sharply, masking the stupidity of the moment with a frustrated glare. Ah, but Davion did not mind. He was too happy, truly elated, and felt closer to him in that brief, boyish moment than he had in actual centuries. He tried to think of the most clever thing to say, to cement the moment.

Alas, divine intervention would leave him on that precipice for some time to come. A sudden rustling in the bushes provoked them both to look over sharply —just as a tightly bundled up Sarah staggered her way into the clearing.

She halted once stepping onto the soft dirt of the bank, looking up from her feet to catch both their gazes already staring her down.

"Oh. Hey," she said, with a smile and a wave. Then she caught sight of their bared torsos, rather close proximity, and the odd air of tension floating about. Her eyes shifted off of them awkwardly. "Sorry, I…didn't mean to interrupt you," she said, shrugging apologetically.

Davion, knowing enough to distract her completely from even a hint of the matters they'd just been discussing, shot right up and started moving towards her.

"What nonsense! You could never bother us, dear," he called out to her, smiling happily and maneuvering himself close to the edge of the pool. The depth lessened, keeping him concealed only from the waist down as he came to lean casually over a log at the water's rim. "Good morning, by the way," he said, coquettishly. "Did you sleep soundly?"

Sarah, realizing from the broken refractions in the water that he was actually fully naked under there, averted her eyes as a nervous smile and accompanying blush took hold of her face. Did that…did that mean that Jareth was naked over there too?

"Ah…I did, actually," she said, with a bout of nervous laughter. "I slept like the dead."

Davion's smile beamed for her, his long hair wet and flattened against the sides of his face and sticking down the length of his back. She'd never seen it let loose before and remarked, to herself, that the style made him look weirdly pretty.

"Excellent," he said to her, then grinned cheekily. "I'm glad I could be of service."

The suggestion in that comment in no way went over Sarah's head. Her blush deepened and so did her awkward ass chuckle. It was weird. She was feeling flustered, for sure, but…that was all. —no panic, no regret, no fear. Huh…maybe things could be normal after all?

Until Davion decided to up and climb out of the water, that is.

Sarah's eyes widened and and then averted in a flash the moment she caught a glimpse of his narrow hips erecting above the water line. She'd already seen him mostly naked from her time in Fyrn and…in her dreams….but apparently her knee-jerk reaction was not to dare fill in the missing gaps any further. Her face burned in embarrassment, her arms curling around herself protectively.

"Do you…need a towel or something?" she asked, ears keenly attuned to the splashing of water as he pulled himself ashore. She could hear it dripping off of him next, then a cascade as he wrung out his hair.

"No. I've got one right here," he said, impishly, thriving off her bashfulness. Sarah gave him a few more seconds and then peeped an eye in his direction and, thank God, he actually had a towel wrapped around his hips. The relief that flooded through her was palpable and it made him smirk. "You're so cute," he said, eyeing her wolfishly. Sarah froze on the spot. It wasn't right that he could look at her like that, in plain view of her own husband, while droplets of water streamed down his naked-ass chest and get away with it —and then he stepped towards her, inclining his head towards her intimately.

"Even after all those lewd sounds you were making last night, you still manage to play shy for me," he said. His closeness gave her sudden jitters, but she managed to stay still. But why, she didn't know. Her eyes fluttered when he brought a hand to the side of her face, then she anxiously looked to Jareth for his reaction. He was watching but barely —showing more interest in detangling his hair. She gulped when Davion leaned in and…kissed her softly on the temple. She blinked in confusion and pulled back to look at him. "Thank you for that, by the way," he said, sounding….more humble and sincere than ever. "You have no idea how special an experience like that is."

Sarah's mouth fell open but she didn't know what to say. He'd caught her off guard acting all warm and loving like that —when she'd fully expected him to press his advantage and kiss her on the mouth. He seemed to read her thoughts as he stared at her, smiling softly in delight as his hand fell back to his side. Then he stepped away from her and looked back at Jareth.

"I'll see you back at camp," he called out. Then, with one more flirty eye for Sarah, left.

She stood there dumbly for a minute, thinking that was…weird. At the same time, her heart was fluttering. She felt…happy and comforted. Did she really? Gosh, if only Becky knew the kind of life her homely, vanilla-virgin of a best friend would one day lead…

She shook her head clear and looked over at Jareth —who was perhaps pretending to wash himself rather than just stand there awkwardly. She took a few steps down the bank to the water's edge, debating whether or not she actually wanted to get in. He waded towards her while she was distracted. She saw him within a few feet of her when she looked up again.

"...and how are you?" she asked, gauging his mood in just the same way he was hers.

"Wet," he said, flaccidly. "Care to join me?"

He offered out a hand but she was less ready to accept it. Instead her head turned from side to side, shifty eyes searching for onlookers. Although, after a second, she realized Jareth would not have offered were they not truly alone. She looked back at him and nodded, making quick work of removing her clothes before taking his hand and lowering herself into the water.

She bristled immediately, unprepared for the abrupt change in temperature as cool water moved up the length of her body.

"Ooh. It's a little cold," she said, fighting off a shiver as Jareth took both her hands and led her to a deeper part of the pool. The tension she sensed about him but a few minutes ago was gone, his expression warm and relaxed.

"You'll get used to it soon," he said, moving her slowly towards the waterfall. Sarah, keeping her body submerged to the shoulders, tilted her head back and looked all around, truly taking in the majesty of the space.

She'd been too focused on Jareth and Davion when she first entered the clearing, so hadn't actually acknowledged their surroundings. The area behind her was rimmed with trees, a thick patch of woods that separated them from the distant eyes of their camp. The bank had been a dark, sooty soil, grainy in texture but not quite sand. The water was dark but clean, boasting an emerald green hue as the bright light of the sun shone down from above, unimpeded by canopy or clouds. In front of her was a small cliff side, organically shaped by a collection of variously sized boulders. A stream fell over the apex, making a nice little waterfall that Jareth seemed intent on bringing her to. The serenity of the pool and the forest made her think of the place Jareth had taken her to on their wedding night. That memory was painful indeed but…recalling it now, under better circumstances, made her want to go back there again and make a better one.

She was unconsciously smiling as she gazed up at the tumbling, foamy white water. Jareth watched her with a soft gaze, thinking...that Davion was right.

"This place is so pretty…" Sarah murmured, her hands flexing in his when she looked down at him. "I've never bathed under a waterfall before," she added, so sweetly. Jareth smirked, turning her about the open water until her back touched the cascade. She shivered violently from the sensation and clutched his hands for dear life, as if she expected it to whisk her away with the current —although a wide, animated smile lit up her face all the while. She shrieked then laughed, letting herself be consumed by the onslaught before Jareth took pity and pulled her out of it.

She was smiling down at nothing, pushing matted hair out of her face while wiping the water from her eyes. It was a vision Jareth felt free to lose himself in.

"It suits you," he said, after a thoughtful moment watching her.

"Hm?" she prompted, finally free to peep her eyes open.

"Nature," Jareth said, glancing around the clearing. "Surrounding you like this. It suits you." She blinked the remaining droplets from her eyelashes and smiled at him bashfully, her pale, naked beauty complemented by the dark green waters surrounding her. It was a sight he cherished. Truly cherished. He only hoped she would never have to know the true depth of his words, precisely why it suited her so well. Ah, but enough about that. For now, at least. He ran his thumbs over her knuckles, watching her attentively. "How are you feeling?" he asked, perhaps a tad skeptically. "—about last night."

Sarah, caught off guard when she knew she really shouldn't be, blinked down at the water shyly.

"Ah…I'm…surprisingly okay?" she said, cocking a dubious half smile when she looked back up. And then she actually laughed, incredulously anyway. "I am embarrassed as all get out, but…it doesn't…feel as weird as I thought it would."

Jareth felt the last remaining bits of his anxiety lull, relieved that she wasn't regretting what had happened. He rolled his eyes casually.

"That's because Davion is trite," he said. "You needn't ever worry about snipping loose ends with him."

Sarah stifled a laugh, placing her hands to his bare, damp chest as the current of the ripples guided her closer to him.

"Heh, right…" she replied.

She lifted her hands and held him by the shoulders, looking away, at the waterfall, in contentment. She was acclimating to the water now and the cool swish that grazed over her legs every time she moved was soothing. And it was so quiet, so peaceful. It really was a wondrous, beautiful place.

Jareth meanwhile, had eyes only for her. He watched her in their intimate proximity, feeling…oddly sentimental as his gaze traveled down her face. It must have been her pheromones.

"But…with that said…he does care for you, genuinely," he said, and she looked at him again attentively. Jareth continued. "And he wasn't bolstering. What we shared together last night is considered extremely precious…among my people." And then his eyes lowered to the space between them and she thought…wait, was he actually feeling…bashful? His mouth opened but he hesitated to speak. She wondered why, and then he said, in an admittance more profound than she could realize, "I am…very pleased."

Sarah's heart warmed as she savored that truly adorable, novel moment. She was a little worried about how Jareth would behave now, even knowing that those worries were her own projections. Still, his relationship with his brother was so temperamental and in such dire need or repair that she couldn't help but welcome any means that might bring them back together. And, from the stern, albeit totally transparent look on his face, she knew that at least some step had been taken. Pride and love and happiness swelled within her, fully expressed through her scent that then swept mercilessly over him.

"Good," she said, smiling at him with such burgeoning compassion —although it faded just as swiftly as it'd built, replaced by ambivalence. "I was worried that…once the air of impulse wore off, that you would…be angry about what happened," she revealed with a small shrug, then looked down. "I keep worrying, actually…that things like that will bother you. That you'll resent me…"

Jareth's wet hands emerged from the water to grasp either side of Sarah's face, urging her to look up at him. She did and he inclined his head so that their stares were linked.

"I want you to be happy," he said, his voice muffled by the white noise of the waterfall. "That and your safety are the only things I care about." His thumbs stroked her cheeks tenderly between sentences. "This is not the Aboveground. Don't trouble yourself with those precedents anymore. If you want to try something or someone, say it. There is much fun to be had, together." He spoke in earnest. Sarah licked her lip and nodded, eyes falling to the water.

"Okay," she replied, quietly, then tried to look up at him in confidence. "…I guess I just…need to loosen up a little," she said, making a self-deprecating smile. Then she huffed, the sheer absurdity of what had happened catching up to her and leaving her flabbergasted. "But, I must say, I really was not planning for that," she added, with wide eyes. "That dream I had…was just super intense."

Jareth regarded her playfully.

"Oh?" he replied.

Sarah, becoming more comfortable as they spoke, went on candidly that time.

"Yeah. It felt more real than usual. Maybe…because I was controlling my own dream?" she asked, rhetorically, then shook her head. "I don't know. It was weird knowing you and Davion were just figments."

Ah, now that had Jareth grinning.

"So we were there?" he asked with a naughty inflection. Sarah's brows wriggled, her head twitching in confusion.

"Did…you not see?" she asked, caught off guard. "I figured...you both had read it at some point."

An impulsive, halfcocked grin flashed across Jareth's face, making him come off as something close to self-conscious when he briefly looked away from her.

"I did not, unfortunately. I was a bit too distracted then. Although I did assume…" he admitted. Sarah pursed her lips, restraining herself from commenting on how adorable he'd just looked.

"Ah," she replied, in understanding, the little word giving the smile she was denying just the tiniest bit of agency to curl up the corners of her mouth. Jareth, now so very curious to see what her hopefully depraved mind had come up with, spared no consideration before reaching up and pressing his thumbs to her temples, reading the dream. She knew what he was doing and held still, eyes averted while she waited.

He saw gluttony and debauchery for miles, saw her writhing body pressed between he and his brother's. He even saw the vulgar act of her taking Davion's cock all the way down her throat. And yet, those visions became the very least of his interest.

He saw her standing in an alcove, under a shrine to the Alvra, to Liana, that had since been lost to time. He knew it was gone, because that entire portion of his lands were gone —consumed by desert. Then he saw the ravine, the shadows, and the figure watching, observing from its cliffside of stone-faced intensity. He had never seen that place in such grandiose —before a time of ruin and snow. He did not know how it came to be in her dream, but he knew the markings, the statue, and what it meant. And he knew that it had absolutely no place being in her subconscious. His easy demeanor quickly hardened as he sorted through her dream, becoming more and more disturbed by the imagery that he saw.

He didn't realize just how intently he was scowling. Sarah pulled him from the spiral when she asked, "What's wrong?"

Jareth blinked hard and pulled himself back into the moment, pushing away the images that would only recede enough to continue haunting the back of his mind.

He shook his head until he was clear of it.

"Nothing," he said, unconvincingly. Then asked, "What else do you remember about it?"

Sarah's eyes averted as she thought back. She'd remembered it all perfectly after first waking up, but it'd since gotten blurry.

"Um…It's fuzzy now, but I remember that it was kind of crazy," she said, casually. "I remember being lost in the desert. And then…I followed someone…I think it was you? And then there was a jungle, I think... Davion showed up too and then we went someplace else…" And then her features scrunched up, fighting herself harder to reclaim the memory. "What was that place, anyway?" she looked back and asked him. "I know it's not something I've ever seen before."

Her gaze on his was open, trusting, and easy. She clearly did not understand the gravity of those images, which was his only reprieve. His frown remained, although he did his best to relax it as much as he could.

His mind whirled a million miles a minute as he considered what half-lies he would tell her this time.

"It…was a religious site. From long ago," he said, starting off this new charade with the truth. Sarah's brows raised curiously.

"Oh? What religion? The Alvari?" she asked. Jareth shook his head, slyly guiding them back to the waterfall where it would be harder to be overheard.

"No. Well…not that one," he clarified, looking her starkly in the eye. "The first place you ended up in…the jungle? That was an Alvari shrine," he admitted, thinking that her awareness and past experience with such would be enough to explain why it had formed in her dream. Her lack of questioning implied she shared those thoughts. But that was the easy part. His eyes flickered down briefly when he said, "But the second…that was Daemar."

Sarah drew back in his grasp.

"Dae-what?" she countered, in that lovable, crass way of hers. "I mean, I've heard that word before but…what is Daemar?"

She winced when she asked, wracking her brain for the answer even as she spoke. Jareth looked at her intently for a moment, knowing that, to keep the suspicions that mattered at bay, he would need to give her curiosity something else to chew.

He wasn't entirely comfortable with what he said next, although it wasn't knowledge he had been consciously keeping from her.

"Daemar…are mine and Davion's ancestors. Our clan, you could say," he explained. Sarah's eyes widened —the vague exchange between the sovereigns of Meyhaven from their engagement party suddenly coming back to her.

"Oh. But I thought…you were descended from Daemons?" she asked, now even more confused. "Is that the same thing?"

Jareth's eyes shifted, his hands around her hips, keeping her steady in the water, flexing.

"No. Not exactly," he said. "Daemons were primordial beings, just as pure Fae and Elves had been. The Daemar came after." Then he looked her in the eyes again. "They were a clan of half Daemon, half Fae hybrids. They were far superior in might to either species and thus came to overshadow the Daemon population…into extinction."

Sarah absorbed this new knowledge with interest, her brows knitted in the center while a curious pout sat on her lips.

"Oh…so it goes Daemons, then Daemar…then you?" she asked, walking herself through it. Jareth nodded.

"After many, many generations —yes."

Sarah looked down between them as her thoughts percolated, even raising a studious knuckle to her lower lip. She recalled her conversation with Mariella about Daemons next, specifically the legend and mystery she'd festooned them with. She knew it was a big deal to be part Daemon and remembered, when she'd asked Jareth about it previously, thinking his aloof misdirections might be some form of humility. Regardless of if he had something worth hiding or not, he'd dismissed her questions in a manner as swift as it was obvious. So…why was he telling her about it now?

"I see. Did Daemar have wings?" she asked. Jareth cracked a grin.

"It's been recorded that they did not," he said, not without a hint of disappointment. "Only pureblooded Daemons were said to be winged."

She gave him a shady eye as she regarded him, her attention narrowing in scrutiny.

"Uh-huh. And did they all have blond hair like you and Davion?" she asked.

"Possibly," he replied. "I know every member born in my family has had fair hair."

"Mmm…" Sarah hummed ominously, still dissecting him with her narrowed eyes. Then she voiced what was really on her mind. "—You were less eager to talk about this stuff the last time I asked."

She did her best to gauge his reaction, although she wasn't sure what she was even looking for. Jareth huffed and glanced away.

"Teasing you was more fun then," he said, anything potentially ulterior indiscernible to her. She brought both hands back to his shoulders, her legs fluttering gently through the water as he held her.

"Uh-huh," she replied, her suspicion still evident yet lacking any real motivation to pry. That was something to address at a later time anyway. There was something more important that needed explaining first. "So…why the hell was I dreaming of an ancient Daemar religious site?" she asked. "I mean, the Alvari one kind of makes sense, but…I didn't know what Daemar even were until just now, let alone that they had their own religion or…what their temples look like."

Her thoughts roamed towards a place Jareth needed to steer her clear from. That said, he wasn't entirely sure how, admittedly flying by the seat of his pants as he just kept telling her facts. All he knew for sure was that those places had come from somewhere or someone that was neither her or him —and it would be very bad for all parties involved to startle her by saying so.

"I…am not sure," he said, pensively, which was a response she did not anticipate from him. Her attention shot back at him questioningly, so he explained. "Perhaps…you've gleaned something from mine or Davion's subconscious, which yours used to influence the setting?" he suggested, eyes averting as he (falsely) considered the possibility. In truth, he was 100% certain that Liana was the reason behind it—but he could not address that now. "The place you were in is real," he went on, casually. "It's in the far north, now consumed by a glacier. I've seen what remains of it. And it…was used for the exact purposes that took place in your dream."

Sarah's eyes widened, innocently so.

"What—you mean for fucking?" she asked, the words catching up with her only after she'd said them, making her recoil and blush. Jareth laughed softly in his chest.

"Daemar were exploratory and ambitious," he said, the tension in him softening at the way she'd immediately accepted his explanation. "As their numbers grew and their lands spread, they made it a habit to mix with newly discovered species —try to improve their genealogy and become more powerful with each generation. Places like that were used for…well, for lack of a better term, orgies."

Sarah blinked, mouth slightly agape. It wasn't that she was surprised by the revelation. Moreover…slightly disturbed that such an exciting activity would be carried out in an ominous, imposing place like that. But, then again, she supposed it made sense in a different way…

"Ah. Naturally," she replied, rolling her eyes. "But…when you say mix, I get the feeling what you really mean is rape, pillage and plunder?"

There was no way that scary death pit had been imbued with carnal intent of the delicate and merry variety. No, that place was a ritual circle if she ever saw one, dark, evil. A place where poor captured souls might be taken to be, well, taken.

"Yes," Jareth replied, plainly. Sarah nodded along.

"Right…good to know," she said, now having mixed feelings about that aspect of the dream entirely. Then morbid curiosity got the better of her. "Was…that wine used as well?" she asked, head tilting in slight discomfort. "The stuff in the ring…made from monoma…" she mumbled. Jareth watched her keenly.

"I believe so, yes," he replied. Sarah pursed her lips and frowned. Clearly, that particular fruit carried some bad memories with it, even now. Jareth saw it as an opening for deflection and pressed the advantage. "But…now that you mention it…I think it all makes perfect sense," he said. Sarah looked at him confusedly.

"How?" she asked.

"Don't forget, everything you sense in a dream is a projection of your subconscious," he explained. "Everything is symbolic and has meaning, or it would not exist."

Sarah's brows scrunched together.

"And?" she asked, wanting his elaboration.

"And, if the last couple of weeks has been any indication, your changing hormones are making you…well…more amorous than usual," he said. Sarah froze in his grasp, getting a good idea where he was about to go with this… "And, combined with the understandable stress you may have felt by our unexpected sleeping arrangement…well…"

"Well…what?" she probed, impatiently. Then Jareth caught her eye cannily.

"Monoma unbridles," he stated, the hidden meaning hitting her perfectly. "You had urges, exploratory or overt —it doesn't matter which. And, because you are still so innocent, you can't simply allow yourself those fantasies." And then he cracked an honest grin, teasing but also prideful. "You still need permission, even in your dreams. Or rather…an excuse. I believe, in our close proximity, you pulled from our minds and gave yourself a situation and a means through which your conscious inhibitions did not apply." And then he inclined his head towards her a little. "You know, because those who imbibe monoma are not only free to, but actually compelled to unlock their deepest desires and thus simply can't help themselves? ...you do have a rather adorable habit of shirking responsibility, darling."

Sarah's face formed pure, unabashed petulance as her mouth turned into a hard line while an inadvertent blush brightened her cheeks. Of course, that was obviously what had happened, but why he felt the need to tease her about it in such plainly spoken words was beyond her. Well, no. Scratch that. She knew the reason and it was because he was an ass. She scowled grumpily and did not reply right away, feeling defensive and embarrassed when she knew she had no reason to.

Best tangent then, and sharply.

"Yeah. Whatever. You're right, okay? I'm just too uptight to go about things outright," she said, with a self-deprecating glare. Jareth couldn't help the way his smile spread.

"Ah, but that's one of the things I like most about you," he said, touching her face affectionately, although she wasn't sure she wanted to let herself be appeased by it. Her resistance delighted him. "You are so, so innocent," he went on, softly. "It's been wildly fun corrupting you."

Sarah kept her eyes strictly to the side, knowing by the way her mouth compulsively pursed harder in obstination that he had succeeded in flattering her. She would not let it show so easily, however. Not while he was teasing her like that.

"And when there's no purity left to corrupt?" she asked, cooly composing her face before looking back at him. "Will you get bored of me?"

A hint of vixen revealed itself in the subtle twitch of her brow, the sultry tone of her voice one that she was hardly even aware of. It made him blink slower, smile wider, devilishly.

"Hardly," he said, envisioning her wanton future perfectly. "Once you've become as depraved as I, well…let's just say it is a destination I will enjoy exploring just as much as I am the journey getting there."

He looked incredibly lascivious while saying that. Sarah huffed stubbornly and fiddled with the tendrils of hair that clung to his back.

"Yeah…a very, very long journey that's going to be," she said, sarcastically, although he did not seem deterred by the prospect. Then she found the opportunity for that deflection and seized it. "Still…it was a really weird dream," she said, looking up for a brief moment. She thought back over it, a cursory gesture, but then a blip of recollection came to her: A man. That…strange, uncanny man. She perked up and looked dead at Jareth. "Like that guy I saw—who was that?" she randomly asked, then scowled as further details eluded her. "I can't remember his face anymore, just the feeling that it was you…until it wasn't."

Jareth took more time to consider his response that time. Yes, he had seen that odd fae lurking in the Labyrinth. But who it was or why he was there…he plainly had no clue. And that was truly ominous.

"Mm…I can't say," he admitted, looking down pensively. "It's not someone I ever remember knowing."

Sarah frowned, having expected another history lesson. Was that odd? For Jareth not to know? She figured it was someone from Jareth's past, gleaned from his subconscious just like the landmarks…

"Hm…maybe it's someone I saw in one of the portraits in Roldan's closet…" she wondered aloud.

She did not realize she had wondered aloud.

"What?" Jareth asked, abruptly. Sarah blinked and then sucked in a breath, going fully rigid in his hold.

Oh shit. Oh shit, that was supposed to be a secret, wasn't it? Roldan's closet? The one where he kept that portrait of Aurelia? The one she had sworn not to tell Jareth about—

She recovered from her panic expertly, playing her sudden tension off as a shiver from the water.

"Oh. Um…there's some paintings bound up in one of Roldan's storage closets," she explained, perfectly frank. "Marie and I found it one day and went snooping. It was just a bunch of random stuffy people though; no one either of us knew. Some of your late relatives, maybe." She sounded candid and not at all shifty, right? Not suspicious or duplicitous or awkward like she felt? Fuck…shit…Hopefully he wouldn't push the matter much further.

"I see…" Jareth replied, his tone unreadable. Sarah's eyes darted to the side then back again.

"...so yeah. I must have seen his face there. His clothes…definitely looked out of fashion," she said, keeping her voice and smile light. Then turned the tables back to him. "Do you think that's all it is?" she asked.

Jareth, too preoccupied with his own deceit to read too much into her behavior, shrugged —eager to let the matter die then and there.

"What else could it be?" he asked.

"I don't know. But this is magic we're talking about," Sarah said. Then a strained smile came to her face when she added, "I just want to make sure I'm not being slowly possessed by the ghost of your past or something."

She said that lightheartedly, with a light laugh to boot. It was humorous, trite. Of course, it had to be. Jareth reassured himself of that against the surge of unease those so very heady words brought him. Gods, he hated this. He hated lying to her and the false smile he was forced to show back. Alas, he felt no other option. Maybe one day, when it was over —one way or another— he would try to make amends for all his lies and deceit. Hopefully she would be both alive and willing to give him the chance.

"Rest easy. I sense no trickery about you," he said, returning the same playful tone, even reaching up to lightly comb his fingers through her scalp. She closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. "You're probably right and saw him in a painting, maybe even somewhere in Fyrn?" he suggested. He saw the gears of contemplation turn behind her eyes and consoled himself with the success of a ruse well executed. "Sometimes dreams can be just dreams," he added in conclusion. "Best not to dwell on it."

Sarah thought over all that Jareth had said, over possible symbolisms and powers of the impressionable subconscious, and concluded that was fine. She felt no need to question it or delve deeper into the matter, only curious if not eager to explore her own mind even further and uncover the true depths her psyche could take her to. Despite it all, she'd felt power in that dream. Control. Authority of a primordial nature. It…would be kind of nice to experience that again.

"Alright," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck to steady herself, then leaned in to give him a smooch. Jareth returned the kiss naturally, even furthering it by parting her lips and touching their tongues. His mouth felt hot against her amidst the cool waters and crisp air, the ambience proving for a rather romantic setting for such things. She pulled back and smiled at him, running her hands through his wet hair and picturing all the dirty fun they could have before sneaking back to camp.

Little did she know, Jareth's thoughts were miles away from such respite. Although he returned her affections with practiced skill, utter nervousness was seizing him by the heart. He was glad Sarah showed no more interest in the details of her dream, but the question remained…what the fuck was it?

---

Not much had changed back at camp, even after Davion's return. But that was fine; he didn't need a grand welcome —at least not anymore. No, he sat all on his own like a happy little git, humming a tune that only he could hear as he brushed out his hair. It dried by each passthrough of his brush —a handy bit of magic, that was.

He was mostly dressed now as well, plain trousers and a loose fitted poet's shirt. The next venture of their travels would be even longer than the previous day and he intended to be comfortable.

He inhaled deeply and basked in the sunlight, vaguely glancing back towards the forest every now and then, curious and perhaps even a little eager for Jareth and Sarah's return. His eyes then traveled over the various scenes in front of him while he waited. Mariella was giggling at something the doctor was telling her, but they were well on the other side of the fire where he could not hear. Not that he much cared. She had that practiced stance about her that told him she was merely humoring him —poor, impressionable fellow.

To the left, he saw the little lordess, looking all kinds of fettered as she stammered through some dialogue that Roldan was presently absorbing with a comical and predictable level of indomitable impassivity. In fact…the stern look rooted on his face was a tad irksome. If he was just going to stand there and gape like a knotted old stump, then he didn't deserve to have someone as cute and perky as Amara blabbering at him at all. No, no. It simply would not do. He called out to her breezily.

"Amara, darling," he said, with a happy upturn. She ceased prattling mid-word and turned her head sharply towards him, eyes locking on his like a frantic little pup. It made him smile —harmlessly, of course. And then he asked, "Would you come here for a moment?"

Amara blinked, her head darting to Roldan, then back at Davion. She looked so cute all put on the spot. And then she took a tiny step forward.

"Oh. Of course, Prince Davion," she said and no sooner abandoned Roldan in his tent to scuttle on over to Davion. She smiled courteously and held her hands together in front of herself when she reached him sitting in his chair beside the fire. "What can I do for you?" she asked. Davion's gaze spied on Roldan discreetly just beyond Amara. The grump was glaring at him. Excellent. He looked up at Amara and smiled widely.

"I was wondering if you would mind braiding my hair for me?" he asked, then shrugged with pseudo-embarrassment. "It's so long that doing it by myself is a little difficult."

Amara's blinks were quick, her attention traveling down the length of his bright, freshly washed hair, let loose and looking even longer now. Then her eyebrows lifted, having expected a command much more…well, untoward.

"Oh! Um, of course," she said, merrily, and sat her butt down on the arm of his chair. "Let me just take a seat here…" Davion's smile was as amiable as it was forced as he turned and offered her his back —causing Roldan to practically fume from the ears. Davion laughed internally, satisfied with the trouble he was causing. And Amara…oh, she was only helping him. "Wow…" she said as she combed her fingers through the straight strands of his fine hair. "Your hair is so soft, my prince. I wish mine was as sleek as this!" She giggled like a child, but it was a delightful sound that filled him with triumph. He gave her more empty flattery to keep the mood going, sitting prettily while she worked on forming his braid.

That stasis only lasted for a few minutes, however, as Sarah emerged from the forest and rejoined them —alone.

The first thing she saw was Amara sitting on the edge of Davion's chair…messing with his hair? She didn't quite understand what was happening, but recognized the look plastered to Davion's face well enough to figure it out. She arched one very judgemental eyebrow at him as she approached.

Amara saw her first and perked up.

"Hello again, Queen Sarah," she said, happy as could be in her total state of ignorance. In that split second, Sarah searched for Roldan. She spotted him immediately, glowering off with his back to them. Oh geez… "Did you enjoy the spring?" Amara asked.

Sarah looked away from Roldan and back at her, the nature of Davion's antics now fully transparent. She was going to lecture the hell out of him for this, daring to meddle in what she was hoping would become her own personal telenovela.

"I did. It was very refreshing," she answered Amara, saving her schemes and scolds against Davion for later. Then, as if on cue, Mariella appeared with a heaping breakfast plate —specifically made for Sarah, it seemed. Amara finished up Davion's hair just as Sarah accepted her breakfast. "Thanks," she said. Mariella nodded respectfully.

"What happened to His Majesty this time?" Mariella asked after straightening, curiously looking passed Sarah into the woods. "I feel like he's been missing quite a lot during this trip —and we've just started it."

Sarah glanced back as well, her brows knitted when she looked forward again.

"Oh. He said he wanted to look for some plant?" she said, confused, then turned the look down to Davion. "You told him you saw an ingredient in the woods that I guess he's been looking for?" she half-asked.

"Mhm," Davion replied, then paused to address Amara as she stood. "Thank you, dear," he said, returning her warmth when she smiled and walked away…trailing right back to Roldan. Ha. With a small huff of laughter, he looked back at Sarah again. "It's for your concealment charm. He should be able to finish it easily with it. That way, your secret may stay safe among the throngs of Erykberg."

Sarah crossed her arms, regarding him skeptically.

"I'm surprised you clued him in," she said. "It doesn't exactly align with your interests."

Davion's mouth spread into another grin and he eased back in his seat, playing with the sleek new braid Amara had given him.

"Ah, but like all conduit charms, it's only effective when worn on your person," he said, bouncing a merry foot over his knee. Then he looked at her a bit more…suggestively. "And we have several more nights to share together."

A veritable twinkle shone in his eye. After the mood she was sure he'd put Roldan in, she wasn't so sure she found it as endearing as he wanted her to.

"Mhm. We'll see about that…" she replied, *ominously*.

Amara, meanwhile, was well at work picking right back up where she and Roldan had left off. He'd since moved from the breakfast bar they'd been chatting at to sit in one of the chairs on the far side of the fire pit. He looked a little irritable too, so she thought to bring him a peace offering.

He was glowering at the flickering flames so intently he didn't even notice her right away, only flinching to attention and uncrossing his deathly tight arms at the sudden motion of her pulling up a chair directly next to his and plopping herself down in it. She had a beam of a smile on her face and offered him a plate that he had not asked for.

"Hey. Sorry I got sidetracked," she said, and practically shoved the thing into his possession. "I brought you some breakfast."

Roldan accepted the gesture, purely because she gave him no other choice, and sat up straighter in his seat. The ire in his expression left but broodiness remained.

"...thank you," he said, a little hushed.

He looked down at his food after that, seemingly more interested in picking at it rather than talking to her. She stared at him intently, waiting, but her due never came. While normally his silence unfazed her, she'd been feeling more and more uneasy about it over the last 24 hours. She also didn't like the sense of reservation she regarded in his voice when he'd thanked her just then, and felt herself tense anxiously.

After a long pause, she finally spoke up—although she did so by staring down into her own lap and pinching her nervous fingers.

"Um, sorry if this seems random, but…" At hearing the worry in her voice, Roldan looked over at her attentively, realizing much too late just how worried she really was. She licked her lips and shifted, reluctant to speak in a manner that was unlike her. "I feel like…you've been quieter…" she said. Roldan eyed her curiously.

"Quieter?" he repeated. Amara swallowed and looked to the side.

"Yes. Since…well..." And she shrugged meekly, strain coming to her otherwise pretty smile. It made Roldan frown. He knew exactly what she was referring to —that damned kiss that had completely discombobulated him; the kiss that, apparently, she had been thinking about as well... "I've been wondering if it was bothering you, so…I just wanted to say…I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable yesterday," she went on, forcing the words to come out whilst averting her gaze. He didn't like seeing her act with such uncertainty. A quick smile flashed across her face, but the stiffness in her shoulders only increased. "I won't act so familiarly again…" she said, some disappointment showing through. "...if that's what you'd prefer."

Roldan panicked to an infernal degree that he was stupidly becoming accustomed to, the hard pang in his chest making him want to jump to his feet and shout NO. Ah, but he didn't. Thank the gods.

Instead he looked down at his plate again, composing his inner mayhem into something cool and detached.

"...you don't need to apologize," he said, sounding a tad vulnerable himself. Amara eyed him fretfully, dissecting the way he frowned and the mystery thought that made his brow furrow just before he admitted, tightly, "...that's not what's been bothering me."

Amara nibbled the inside of her lip.

"Oh?" she asked.

Roldan's jaw gritted as sudden frustration swept through him and he looked ahead at the fire sharply.

"No. I simply…loathe Davion," he said, eyes narrowing with distaste as they focused on the small flames. Amara tilted her head curiously. Then he looked at her, hoping to convey the assurance that he wasn't sure was actually there. "—It's difficult to feel anything other than aggravation with him near. It's…not something I can much help, unfortunately."

The trepidation so palpable in Amara's expression all but a minute ago was nowhere to be seen. Her shoulders had lifted and her brow relaxed —apparently convinced by the half truth he'd just told.

"Oh. Okay. Well, I'm relieved then," she said, a sudden airy smile spreading across her face. And then her eyes darted. "Well, not totally relieved," she went on. "—being aggravated certainly isn't a good thing. But I'm glad it's not because of me. I was getting really worried."

It would probably distress her if he clarified how wrong she was, if he told her that it actually had everything to do with her just as much as it did Davion. He couldn't stand Jareth's brother on the best of days, and to see him leering all over her…compelling her to braid his fucking hair? It was disgusting.

But that was not something she needed to know. She would only blame herself and look at him with bright, sad eyes. He just needed to get his shit together, like always. He had no right to be jealous. She hadn't done anything wrong and, as much as he detested the idea, if she actually came to enjoy Davion's company….then far be it from him to stop her. Davion was a prince after all and he...he was merely a servant.

And she thought it was all because of that quick, little kiss? That he disapproved of her behavior? She'd been worrying about that? Gods…she was too good for either of them.

"I actually…" Roldan began to say, his voice trailing off pensively. When he glanced at her again, the look was somehow more…intimate. "I thought it was very sweet," he told her, with a formal dip of the head. "I appreciated the gesture."

A blush flourished over Amara face, but it wasn't something she realized, more concerned over the spontaneous flutter of butterflies she felt in her chest. He looked so cool just then. She couldn't help but gape and turn her head feverishly away.

"Oh? Good…" she said, unevenly, and laughed in some poor excuse for nonchalance. She sat there awkwardly for a moment, nursing a break in conversation that felt heavy only to her. Then she brushed some hair behind her ear and looked over at him again from under her lashes. "I was also wondering…." she started to say, her eyes flickering down bashfully in a manner that, for once, did not go completely over Roldan's head. He felt a sharp tingle tighten his attention on whatever the hell she said next.

Her little lower lip was reddening from being bitten, shining wet and plump and…

"Please do tell me if this is too audacious, but…" And then her siren eyes flashed up at him in beseech. "I wanted to ask Sarah if it would be alright to ride with you the rest of the way?"

Roldan's eyebrows lifted, high.

She got flustered by that look and kept on going before he could respond.

"It's just…while Prince Davion is technically polite and, indeed, quite charming, I feel I have to agree with you…" Then her eyes fell away from him and roamed slyly to the side. "Marie adores him, so I don't want to inconvenience her at all but…I would rather spend my time confined with someone a little less…well, aggravating." And she looked back at him with an embarrassed little shrug.

"Would you mind?" she asked, wincing slightly. "I promise not to be a bother. I brought a lot of books. I can keep quiet when needed. I swear you'll hardly know I'm there…"

Roldan's hands curled into fists that lowered discreetly out of her view. Whatever in the world he expected her to say, it absolutely was not that. He was internally reeling so hard he had no physical reaction at all, which was best. She looked nervous now and expectant of a denial. He gulped subtly, making himself as aloof and suave as he could ever be.

"I don't mind…even if you are loud," he said, the words coming out slightly enunciated through his tight jaw. Then, so stoically, he added, "Do as you wish."

Jubilation erupted through Amara so viscerally it actually lifted her higher in her seat. Her guarded eyes widened with excitement and she reached out to brace the arm of her chair with both hands.

"Oh good. Thank goodness—" she said, caught somewhere between immense relief and overwhelming joy. Roldan was selfish enough to take her reaction as flattery, even knowing she was just looking for an escape from Davion. Regardless, she'd chosen him over the doctor. That fact warmed his chest and he found his impassive expression forming a soft smile.

Amara hopped to her feet, looking all out of sorts.

"I'm going to go ask her right now," she said, then hurriedly scampered off —just like that. Roldan tracked her delightful little scurry around the camp with barely subdued panic, swallowing hard as imaginings of how they might spend that quiet, secluded time together crept through the back of his mind. He tried not to get ahead of himself but—

Oh sweet gods above, save him.

---

Jareth stood alone in the woods, gaze darkened with suspicion as he stared at the sunny little glade that Davion had mentioned. A deep frown sat on his face, for there was not one aspect of that scene that was natural.

He and Davion had walked down to the spring together that morning. It made no sense that Davion had noticed it and not him, given how close to the path it was, and there was absolutely no way he would have overlooked something so blatantly contrived. The trees had thinned perfectly, letting in a circle of light to shine down on a patch of estolla that had definitely not been there before. The way the coarse, spindly black stalks sprouted from the ground looked artificial and out of place, like someone had merely stuck them into the ground. He knew he was right, estolla was meant for caves and low light. It should be impossible for it to grow there, under dry, vibrant sunlight.

Had Liana given Davion a vision? Had she cloaked the area so that only Davion could see?

…but why? Why was she so insufferably cryptic all the time?

There was not a cell in his body that doubted Liana was behind this—the scent of her magic being a clear enough indication. He looked around guardedly as he stepped into the glade. Nothing happened —no traps or surprises— which made him doubly suspicious. He looked up to the sky, searching, then knelt down and plucked one of the plants by the root.

It looked normal enough, alive and appropriately fragrant despite its peculiar setting. Then he stood and looked around the small open space, attuning his ears to his surroundings to make sure he was truly alone before speaking.

"If you're here, come out," he said, eyes sifting through the trees impatiently. "We're on a schedule."

A presence tingled the air. Jareth turned around to face Liana.

She stood with her arms lightly crossed, her expression on him thoroughly deriding.

"Says the man who's kept me waiting all morning," she replied, looking down her nose. Jareth felt his frown steel.

"So, I was right. You planted this here?" he asked. Liana scoffed, holding back a laugh at him.

"Of course," she said, then looked around the clearing. "You need it, don't you? Although…" And then her sly eyes found their way back to his, a cunning smile tugging at her lips when she said, "After the good fortune you received last night, maybe you're better off without it?"

Her crude attempt at humor went unreceived. Jareth's eyes narrowed on her and her flagrant posture.

"Why are you helping me this time?" he asked. Liana shrugged, then took a few careful steps amidst the garden.

"It's all part of keeping her safe, right?" she countered, the iridescent silk of her gown flowing like water over the ground. "I sensed great reservation from you, bringing her to such a large gathering of people in her most delicate state." Then she stopped pacing and looked up at him. "And I agree. Letting the world know of her condition at this exact moment, in such a vulnerable setting, could be troublesome. Some might even suspect conspiracy."

Jareth arched an eyebrow, distrusting and unimpressed that she had spared the forethought towards, what he had assumed she would say, was his matter to deal with. Were such scandals not trite in her eyes? Was the threat of the entire aristocracy taking perverse, perhaps even invasive, interest in the true oddity of Sarah's perceived hyper fertility not just further motivation for him to keep on finding more and more inventive ways of protecting her? Why would she care what lesser peons thought when she herself could protect her regardless? Yes, her charity in this matter was highly suspect indeed.

"Conspiracy or Alvra's blessing?" he asked, sardonically. Then added with a flourish, "Is this not a true miracle?"

To conceive a child within the span of months? For one of his kind? The fact that she was human had become irrelevant. It had taken over a hundred years for Braxton to breed with his human —and that was considered typical. So yes, there really was no other word for it. Or at least, that was the rhetoric he intended to spread. And spread it he would…when it most suited him—preferably when she was secluded within the protection of his castle and not surrounded by thousands of susceptible onlookers.

Liana, sensing his thoughts, grinned and huffed, uttering out an ominously clipped, "Indeed."

Jareth glanced down to the estolla root in his hand, crushing it just to see what would happen.

"A part of me wonders though…" he said, letting the broken bits fall back to the ground. "...if this is the real reason for your visit? And not say…her dream?"

He sounded well calculated when asking that. It had Liana blinking with a frown. Then she asked,

"What dream?"

Jareth rolled his eyes, not having the time to entertain her frivolous games.

"Don't play coy," he said, looking back at her with an edge. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Liana paused, notably. And it was a sight that Jareth was reluctant to admit caught him off guard. She looked down and began thinking, intently. He could see it in her eyes. And he realized…that she was genuinely confused. He had not accounted for that possibility, and the ramifications of it had a sizzle of worry spiking in his veins. He stood and waited, his furrowed brows cutting deeper when her eyes widened with realization and she mumbled out a disconcerting,

"Oh…"

"Oh?" Jareth was quick to repeat, analyzing everything about her, searching, hoping for deception. When he found none, he guardedly stated, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you actually sound surprised."

Liana looked up at Jareth quickly, an unnerving sense of apprehension twisting her once so lofty expression.

"That's because I am," she said, sternly. "I had nothing to do with that dream. At all."

Jareth blinked, his head cocking like he didn't understand her.

"Come again?" he asked. Liana frowned at the ground and began pacing again. Thoughts, visions, memories even, passed quickly through her mind, making her eyes shift about. She was reading deeper into Sarah's dream. Jareth waited patiently.

"Huh…interesting…" she eventually said.

"What is interesting?" Jareth asked.

Liana halted once more and looked up, a smile of disbelief brightening her face —although what she said to him next was not received with the same kind of excitement.

"She's getting stronger," she said, eyes alight with an actual flicker, making the amber of her irises flash. Jareth's posture stiffened. "Your lessons are paying off," she said, looking befuddled and impressed as she sorted through Sarah's subconscious. "I'm not lying. I did not craft that dream for her. She…tapped into my essence, all on her own, and...without alerting me." Then her face crinkled in perplexion. "Those places she visited…are in my memory."

Jareth's arms crossed, displeasure evident on his face although he was careful with how he expressed it. He figured those settings were derived from Liana, but he had not considered Sarah had pulled them forth on her own.

"Does it mean anything?" he asked. Liana shook her head.

"No. Nothing new, anyway," she replied, candidly. "It's just another symptom of her acclimation. You've discussed this with her?"

She looked at Jareth expectantly now, apparently less omnipotent than usual. Jareth noted that little detail, wondering if it had deeper implications.

"Yes," he answered.

Liana, meanwhile, was not so on edge. Her smile became flabbergasted, her eyes blinking quickly as her thoughts ran away with her.

"Heh, it's amazing, really —and a good thing for you that it was all clouded by her latent sexual desires. I'm curious as to how you explained this one away. That dream was incredibly vivid," she said, with a faint shake of the head. "I sense trust and contentment from her. Whatever spin you put on it, it was convincing."

Jareth would not admit the relief her surety gave him.

"And the man?" he asked, eyes trained on her next reaction like an animal stalking its prey.

Liana paused again. Paused. Then the smile fell from her face and she looked at him dubiously.

"What man?" she asked.

Jareth arched a brow. Oh, what audacity.

"The one she saw in her dream?" he clarified, with a small rise of aggression. "The one who led her to you? Who was that?"

Liana's mouth opened and, unless he was seeing things, she looked a little shifty, restless even. While she was clearly holding back, Jareth had no idea what to make of it. She looked flighty, caught unawares, and shifted her eyes as if quickly combing through the dream again. It made Jareth wonder if she actually….had not glimpsed the man's presence the first time?

A stoic veneer took over Liana's being as the image revealed itself, her playful demeanor disintegrating fast.

"He is no one significant," she said, dismissively, then glanced to the side. "Just one of your forefathers, and a rather troublesome one at that. I can't say why she pulled his visage from me in particular…perhaps it was something random…"

A shroud of warning lowered over Jareth, feeling her deception in every fiber of his being. But even that he could not trust. There were times when she'd used such means to mislead him, covering lies with lies. It put him at a disadvantage and he knew it, possessing nothing in his arsenal whatsoever that would give him leverage over the conversation to sift through her mimicked expressions and glean some actual form of truth. No, he was forced to rely on her whim, taking her word. It was infuriating.

"You're not lying to me right now, are you?" he asked, because it was all that he could ask. Liana, whose expression had fallen grimly, regarded him with the same seriousness.

"It doesn't matter if I am," she said, deadpan —then quickly changed the subject. "The point remains that she's getting a better hold on her powers, Jareth. I don't need to explain to you the implications."

Jareth's jaw tightened, not needing any reminders of the delicate, thinning precipice they all balanced on. Learning to control magic would give her her best chance against the awakening, but it also…would make it come that much sooner.

"No," he replied, low. "You don't."

Liana held his gaze, separated by several feet of sunny atmosphere, weighing his heart against the conviction in his eyes. She believed him. He knew the stakes and had mostly accepted them. She supposed that was enough for now.

"Proceed with caution, my liege…" she said almost coyly, then slowly stepped backward. "Things may get more interesting for you, from here on out. Just remember that neither one of us wants anything bad to happen to her. I gave you time to solve this current issue on your own, but I acknowledge the rarity of this particular herb." And she glanced down at the estolla. "I meant to offer it to you as a measure of goodwill." Then her arms unfolded and her eyes flickered up, a dangerous edge of mischief sharpening her eyes when they locked on his. "You're welcome and...Good luck," she said, and faded away.

He watched her dissipate into nothingness like vapor in the air, leaving him weighed down by her ominous words of encouragement. He stood alone for a long moment, reflecting on the details of Sarah's dream and Liana's explanation of it —the matter of concealing her scent in public now the least of his concerns. Sarah was less than three months pregnant. If her powers were developing this steadily…would it even be possible to prolong it until after her labor? To keep her stabilized for another six months? At the rate she was progressing…he honestly wasn't sure. And that unknown, the myriad of possibilities that it could lead to, absolutely terrified him. He did not want to lose her because of his foolishness and deception. And…with each day that passed, he found that he did not want to lose their child because of it, either.

By the time he returned to camp, he found it was already being torn down. Goblins worked on taking down the tents and loading up the furniture, while Andeas and Sarah's two maids bustled around packing away everything else. Roldan directed. Davion sat lazily. He looked for Sarah as he approached, but she found him first. His head turned sharply to the right at the sound of her voice as she exited their carriage.

"Hey! What took you so long?" she called out to him with an obnoxious wave. He just stood there, brooding, while she scampered over to him. "You missed breakfast. Sorry," she said, smiling happily in a fresh gown. "I wrapped up some for you and put it in our picnic basket, if you want it." Then her eyes raked down his front, in search of something. "Did you get what you need?"

She looked up at him innocently, looking so precious and fragile while the dark cloud of his thoughts loomed over them. He tried to push it away, for her sake, and exist in that same ignorance as best as he could.

His attention shifted briefly to the pouch he held, the one he'd used to collect that infernal gift.

"Yes..." he muttered, sounding leagues away. Sarah's brow knitted with a touch of concern, sensing there was something heady on his mind, but chose to ignore it for now. Such moods were more common for him than not nowadays.

"Well, come on then. We're just about ready to go," she said, smiling easily while angling herself away and taking his hand. He accepted, staring at her as if ingraining the vision into the deepest part of his mind. Little did she know that he was, that he needed to. That he might not…get to hold on to that precious sight for as long as he'd hoped.

---

A/N- Yeah, I just had to give them an honest to goodness threesome, *for me* lol —if the will of the author wasn't totally transparent in all that fiercely contrived nonsense because, obviously, there were a hundred other places Davion could have slept XD.

The next chapter will skip the rest of the journey and start up right at Erykburg. I have a lot of events planned and I honestly have no idea how long that chapter will be. I may have to split it again, but we'll see. Anywho, I'm going to switch to Unseeled now and work on that. If you've been following that story as well, you know I left it off on one hell of a cliff hanger lol.

Till next time!