At the castle beyond the Goblin City, things were chaotic. It was afternoon and no one had seen the King. His morning meal sat in the dining hall untouched, his throne cold and empty and his morning appointments were waiting outside the main gate. The goblins were certain he was in his room, but no one dared to enter.

The last time a goblin went into the King's chambers without being invited in the poor fellow was kicked out the window, bogged, sent to the Firery camp to be used as a volleyball, and then left in an oubliette. That was nearly a century ago.

Now four goblins stood in front of their King's door arguing about what to do. "We should checks on Kingy," Pudge stated.

"But Kingy says we not to enter for any reason," Flint argued.

"What if Kingy hurt?" asked Bongo.

"Or dead?" Smash added.

"Kingy no dead," Flint sneered.

"Well we has to check," Smash stated plainly. "I's going in." Before the others could stop him he pushed past them and hurried into the King's chambers.

"Wait!"

"Comes back!"

"Nooo!" The other three shouted after him.

Smash rushed over to the bed and jumped up on it. He figured if the King wasn't there he would have a good view of the rest of the room. The little goblin didn't have to look far though. Tangled up in his black silk sheets with one leg hanging off the side of the bed was Jareth the Goblin King.

Smash slowly reached for the King, intending to shake him gently. Just before his hand touched the King's shoulder, Jareth groaned and rolled over. Smash jumped back and ducked. When nothing happened he stood back up. "Kingy?" He was answered by another groan. "Kingy is you ok?"

Hearing the goblin's voice made his already splitting headache hurt worse. "Stop your infernal blabbering," Jareth ordered as he held his head. "And why are you in my private chambers?"

Smash flinched in fear. "Kingy... we uh.. that is I..."

"Out with it!" Jareth yelled and instantly regretted it. He sat up, untangling his legs.

Smash turned his back to the King when he realized he was naked. "I sorry Kingy, buts it's late and we no sees or hears from you. We worried something was wrong. I came to makes sure you weren't hurt or deads."

"I suppose I can forgive you, this time. Now tell me what happened," Jareth whispered as he held his head, rubbing his temples.

"I not know, Kingy," Smash answered. "We sees you leave last night and none see you come home. But cooky says he heard a large crash in your room before sun come up."

Groaning, Jareth summoned a crystal and tossed it up. It popped and he was covered with silver glitter. Carefully opening his eyes he saw the glitter and groaned again and muttered curses under his breath. "Damn Dragon ale..." he closed his eyes and sighed. "Smosh."

"It's Smash your grace."

"Whatever." Jareth never cared if he got their names right before, he really didn't care now. "Cover those windows and draw me a hot bath. Then tell cooky to make my hangover drink."

"Right away, Kingy!" Smash saluted and hopped off the bed.

"Quietly you fool." Jareth scolded.

"Of course, Kingy," Smash whispered. The little Goblin grabbed blanket, curtains, and towels and made sure the windows were as dark as possible. This wasn't the first time the King had suffered a hangover. Usually, it happened around holidays, but only if he drank Dragon ale. It was the only alcohol his magic was resistant to. In fact, it made his magic all weird for a day or two.

Once the room was dark, Smash hurried to the bathroom and filled the in-ground tub with hot water, and added the King's favorite oils. When he went back, Jareth was on his feet with his back to Smash, though he seemed a little wobbly. "All done Kingy. I go tells Cooky to makes drink."

Turning towards the goblin, Jareth nodded and headed to the bathroom. Smash ran out, trying hard not to laugh. Normally he would have questioned the laughter, but Jareth was in too much pain to care. His head felt like it would literally split in two, his body ached, his legs were unsteady beneath him and his magic was no help at the moment.

Slipping into the large tub, Jareth laid back and let his body sink below the water. He took a deep breath and tried to recall the events of the night before. It was near any celebrations so why in the seven hells was he drinking dragon ale?

He remembered having dinner with Lord Lucas. They were discussing a possible engagement between Jareth and Lord Lucas's daughter. Jareth hadn't met the girl, but he needed an heir and for that, he needed a Queen. Jareth had hoped to have a certain green-eyed beauty but that seemed unlikely now.

Jareth hadn't heard from Sarah since she ran his Labyrinth and her final words made it so he couldn't reach her unless she called for him and wasn't going to happen.

"Harder, Jareth." The voice echoed in his head.

He sat up quickly, which made him feel sick to his stomach. "Why would I hear Sarah saying that?" He tried to recall what happened but he just heard random sounds and had a vague craving for sushi, which didn't help with his feeling of nausea.

After an hour, the bathwater was cold and Jareth's fingers and toes were looking pruney. Feeling a bit better he climb out and walked into the other room not even bothering with a towel. He found the elderly gnome that everyone called Cooky, in his room with a large cart.

"Fear not, your majesty, I've got a nice pot of your hangover drink and..." As she turned, Cooky stop when she saw Jareth naked, but not because he wasn't wearing clothes. The cup in her hand fell to the floor shattering. "My gods!"

Flinching at her sudden outburst, Jareth glared at her. "Bloody hells, woman! What is your problem? You've seen me naked since I was a babe."

"Aye, that I have, so I would be the first to know ya weren't born with that." She pointed at his stomach.

Glancing down, Jareth noticed something across the bottom of his stomach, right where the top of his pants would sit. It was obviously writing of some sort in green and black ink. "What the bloody hell is that?" He asked as he walked to his bed to fetch the mirror on his bedside table.

"It appears to be a tattoo, my Lord," Cooky replied.

"I can see that," Jareth spat. "What does the damn thing say?" He asked as he grabbed the mirror and examined his newly acquired body art.

"Sarah's warty cucumber" Cooky replied as she tried not to laugh.