Hello, lovelies. Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! And, thank you for the patience. Trigger Warning forced kiss and restraining.

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Sarah gritted her teeth together and squeezed her eyes shut; she would bear it. She'd stay strong. The smoky scent of burnt hair singed the inside of her nose. Dabella and Kinsleigh yanked and pulled at her locks while Natalia held a curling iron far too long in her thick, but not indestructible, tresses. The occasional hair-pin in the hands of Sephira stabbed her scalp mercilessly, and Pyotr stared at her with predatory eyes.

"She's ready," was all Pyotr said to her that morning, choosing to ignore the humiliating events of the previous day. Sarah knew she wouldn't get an apology, but she hoped sympathy would at least be afforded.

They yanked her to her feet, the ruby red dress swaying about her like a silken shower. Her hair was curled to ridiculous heights, but they still plopped a tiara dripping with rubies onto her head. They shoved her out the door and down the hall. Sarah glanced around for an escape.

And nearly plummeted forward. The trio behind her had abruptly stopped, and a narrow stairway descended before her feet.

Sarah froze.

She felt a shove from behind, but she held her ground.

"Well, move," sneered Pyotr. "Don't keep his majesty waiting."

Sarah looked back at them, an unspoken "please" begging on her lips; their cold faces sent a chill through her heart. She would find no sympathy here.

With a hard gulp and a shaky breath, Sarah took her first steps and descended into hell.

As she rounded the corner into the throne room, goblin squeals and shrieks pierced her ears. The smell of moldy hay and stale beer assaulted her nostrils as the strange room came into view. Goblins clambered over each other as they chased chickens. They rolled around like pigs in mud and hung off each other like drunken sailors. Some smaller ones were jumping on and off of the lap of the king, who looked at them with a tender expression Sarah didn't know he was capable of; she burned with jealousy. She burned with embarrassment because of her jealousy, but was it so wrong to wish the one being cruel to you would also be kind?

"Sarah, darling. I was beginning to wonder if you'd show up at all. So happy you could join us." The amused, good-natured grin that lit up the king's face didn't change when he looked upon Sarah.

"If I'm late, you can blame the Fae you send to dress me up like a puppet," she snapped, her feet still on the final step of the staircase. That good-natured grin was chased away by a devious grin.

"Nonsense, they're just doing their job, nothing this beautiful ever comes quickly, does it?" The king gently set the little goblin on his knee onto the ground and rose, gesturing to Sarah.

"I've not had breakfast yet." Sarah didn't know where the remark came from. Maybe she was killing time. Maybe it was because she truly was hungry.

"How rude of me. Catch." The king grabbed something out of thin air and threw it. Sarah caught it, more a reaction than a choice, as it flew toward her face. Her hands closed around something warm. She opened her hands to find a bread roll, the crisp outer crust still dusty with flour and crumbs.

"Tha—" Sarah stopped herself from thanking him. The king cocked an eyebrow. Sarah took a bite, not caring if her ruby red lipstick smeared.

"I hear you had an…interesting day yesterday," said Jareth, pausing for effect. Sarah ignored him. "I hope you at least enjoyed yourself. Hanging around the castle can be a bit droll, so my subjects appreciated having your around; you were a breath of fresh air, they said." Sarah rolled her eyes, licking the last breadcrumb from her fingers.

Jareth's eyes narrowed. "But, playtime is over. It's time you take your rightful place at my side in preparation for what is to come." Sarah stayed firmly planted on the step. "So, come." Sarah crossed her arms.

Whoosh.

With a flick of Jareth's finger, a gust of wind pushed Sarah from behind, and an unseen rope yanked at her middle, pulling her towards Jareth. She stumbled forward, tripping over a goblin, and landed against Jareth's chest. She gasped and snapped her chin up to meet his eyes. He wrapped his hands around her wrists and pulled her to standing, his grip never loosing for a moment. Sarah tried to wrench her hands from his, but he held tight.

"I suggest you stop struggling. You can sit quietly by whilst I carry out my kingly duties, and maybe learn something while you're at it, or I promise you," he pulled her closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I can make this very uncomfortable."

Sarah clenched her teeth to stop an involuntary gulp. She stayed silent, but her eyes remained defiant, burning into the Goblin King. He released her.

"It's too loud in here; you!" he shouted, pointing to a group of four disheveled goblins by the door, "Out. Go scrub the courtyard or muck the stables or something." The four goblins clambered over each other, guffawing as they did. Jareth rolled his eyes. Sarah picked at a hangnail, unsure what to do. Slapping Jareth across the face and biding her time both seemed like good ideas; one would make her feel great, but the other one might actually be helpful. Sarah bit the inside of her cheek and grumbled.

Jareth sat and reclined in his throne. "Sarah, here." He motioned next to himself.

"On the ground?" asked Sarah.

"Queens sit in thrones, and as you are not yet queen, so shall you not yet sit in a throne."

"And you don't have the basic decency to provide a chair?"

"Decent? No. Generous? Yes."

"Uuuuugh!" Sarah let out a long, frustrated moan and threw her hands in the air; she was not having this conversation again. He was a narcissist and would talk her in circles—and keep that devilishly handsome and just plain devilish grin on his face the whole time. Sarah plopped down at the left side of his feet and crossed her arms in a pout. A little goblin scurried up to her holding a chicken leg—the kind with feathers still attached. She shooed the little beast off.

"Your highness," came a voice from the stairwell to the right. Sarah turned to see a white mustached goblin scampering out with a scroll in hand. "The callers for the day."

"Oh joy," the king said sarcastically, tossing a boot-clad leg over the arm of his throne.

"First, Yelena and Markus of Quandry Hall will host in the golden tea parlor, should you accept, to discuss extending the gardens round the castle, should you accept. Second, Alexandre and Alexander of the True North Wing will host you in the blue ballroom, should you accept, to discuss the soundness of the infrastructure in their quarters, should you accept. Third—"

"You have to go to them?" asked Sarah quietly, unable to curb her voracious curiosity.

"Of course," answered Jareth, "why should they come here empty-handed wasting my time and preying on my good favor?"

"I mean it is your job as king—"

"They should feed my good nature in order to earn it," Jareth spoke definitively.

The goblin stared wide-eyed, his mouth agape and hands quivering.

"Why have you stopped?!" cried Jareth, leaping to his feet. The messenger jumped and let out a dog-like yelp."

"Th-th-th-third…"

The goblin babbled on about the meaningless problems. Sarah stood, her sitz bones already cold from the stone floor. The goblins were few in number today, and the door that led to the front gate was unguarded.

Sarah's breath caught in her throat. Jareth was so busy towering over the hysterical messenger, he didn't notice as she took a few steps towards the door. Pins and needles prickled across her skin. The goblins around her minded their own business, chewing on chicken bones and lobbing eggs at each other. Every sound in the room became amplified in Sarah's ears as she tried to move soundlessly towards her escape. She was so near…

She broke into a run. The doorway rushed towards her. Droplets of sweat beaded on her brow.

Thwack!

The winds of freedom in her hair had lasted a mere two seconds. Manacles appeared from thin air and locked around her wrists and ankles. They yanked her to a halt. Sarah strained against them, but they only dug red welts into her wrists.

"Well, well, well…" Sarah looked behind her towards the voice of the Goblin King. Four long chains extended to the wall behind the throne. Jareth had his arms thrown open, mock surprise upon his face. With a wave of his hand he dismissed the goblin behind him, who went running up the staircase behind him, falling over his feet and scrambling up on all fours.

Sarah grunted as the chains recoiled into the wall, pulling her closer to the throne. Jareth cupped her chin in his hands.

"It was generous to leave you loose. But now, you've broken my trust. What shall we do about that…?"

Jareth placed both hands on top of her head and smoothed her hair down on either side, running his hands down her shoulders, down her arms, to grab onto each manacled wrist. "I was hoping you would sit next to me willingly; alas, I suppose it was not meant to be. Dogs who run away are kept on a leash. But don't worry," he said, cupping her chin once more. "You mustn't sleep in the doghouse." He drew her in for a kiss.

Sarah tore her head away, but Jareth braced his hands on either side of her face. He kissed her. Sarah tried not to move, tried to remain limp, as the passionate embrace sent fire coursing through her body. He locked his lips with hers, holding them there, savoring the moment. He pulled away and smiled as he sucked in cool air through his hot lips. He kissed her again, this time gently, but working his lips with hers, slowly, as if it were an act of love.

"Ouch!" Jareth tore away and wiped a droplet of blood from the bitemark in his lip. "You little vixen." He took his blood-smeared finger and stuck it in his mouth, noisily sucking off the blood.

Sarah winced, though she kept her eyes fixed on her captor, and awaited whatever blow he would deal next. Jareth just smiled and jumped into his throne, lifting up his knees and swinging back and forth on the arms. He flopped down and threw a leg over the side. "You'll do well in court."

Sarah growled under her breath. But, the king left her alone the rest of the morning. He played, unbothered, with the goblins as they scurried back and forth. The occasional goblin came in and out with a message, some proclaiming loudly and some whispering in the king's ear. Throughout all the fuss, he still didn't address the girl sitting in chains.

Until he popped out of the throne, leaping as if he had wings. Rather, if he had wings at that moment. "Time to make our first call." With a snap of his fingers the chains disappeared, dissolving one link at a time. The manacles on her wrists remained, but their iron color began to brighten. They turned to gold.

"If you try to run off again, these will keep you from passing through the front door. And the back door at that. I wouldn't try the windows either."

Sarah yanked at the cuffs, but they wouldn't budge. "Off we go," Jareth continued. He offered her his arm. "Can't keep the rabble waiting." Sarah didn't accept his offer, so he grabbed her by the wrist and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. She rolled her eyes.

Jareth replied with a wink.

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The first couple met them in a small but gilded room. It shone brilliantly, as if bathed in liquid sun. The tea was floral and light, the scones were fruity and dense. Jareth actually seemed interested in what they had to say, at least until his scones were devoured. The next room had a full spread laid out before them, a luncheon fit for, well, a king. Jareth seemed less interested in the second meeting, and even less in the next after that. Sarah spent the day eating and drinking, wining and dining. It could've been nice, if you ignored the chattering gentry and tight shackles. Each and every caller fawned over Sarah as if she were a new pet.

"My, how sweet she looks in that gown."

"What fetching shoes. Like a porcelain doll."

"I'd snatch that hair right off her head if I could. Just marvelous."

Sarah never replied, nor smiled, but she bowed her head in acknowledgment. Friends were few and far between, after all.

"I'm impressed you behaved yourself," said Jareth as they stood once more in the throne room. Sarah glared in steely silence. Jareth ran a finger down her cheek. "Well done, pet." Sarah took a step back, removing herself from his reach.

"You can't keep me locked in here forever. Shiny new bracelets won't stop me."

"Yes, I can, and yes, they can," Jareth grinned. Sarah rubbed one of her wrists unintentionally. Jareth stepped forward and took her hands in his. Sarah resisted half-heartedly, knowing she fought a losing battle. He grasped her hands to his chest, as if they were lovers before a tryst. "You did well today. Perhaps it is too soon, but you'll make quite the impact at the ball tomorrow."

"Ball?"

"Yes, a ball. I know how much you enjoy them." His eyebrows were raised, exaggerating their already sharp angles. His half-cocked grin stole the warmth from the room. He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them, using his thumbs to massage tiny circles into her palms. "Goodnight, dear." He kissed her hands one last time before releasing her.

Sarah found herself softening, even welcoming, the gentle touches of both his lips and fingertips; this was much better than the manhandling she half-expected before their departure. Better than that assault on her mouth she refused to call a kiss. She quickly shook off the feeling and furrowed her brow once more.

But Jareth hadn't missed the wide-eyed relief. Hadn't missed the subtle sinking of her shoulders and relax of her arms as he'd held her hands to his breast. He gave a slight bow.

"Goodnight, Sarah."