"You defin'ely invited her, right?"

Jareth turned a lazy head to Tojî, watching in amusement as the skinny rake of a currently man-shaped goblin scratched a hand under his waistcoat. The ballroom was filled to bursting with guests: visiting royals, nobles, and the goblins in the human forms they might once have had. It was a yearly tradition, but the transformation was jarring for them. The first hour or so was always filled with complaining over the extravagant clothing he'd magicked them into. And the unnecessary leg length.

"Of course," replied Jareth, lounging elegantly on one of the chaises lounge surrounded by his rabble, casting a seemingly unconcerned eye to the enormous mirror occupying one raised alcove.

The glimpses of her once a year for a fleeting few hours were more than enough to stoke the fire of longing. More than enough to bring him to heel for the rest of the year, counting the days, the hours, the minutes. The seconds.

And now as her appearance became imminent, his gut tightened. He found himself fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, realigning the medallion over his sternum. He shifted against the damask cushions, knuckles clenching and unclenching, trying to calm his nerves without anyone noticing.

"Was that really a good idea?" asked Intî, adjusting his tricorn hat above his half-mask adorned with an enormous nose.

Jareth reclined further, the very picture of insouciance. Almost. Ruined only by the impatient glance at the mirror again.

"She always attends." He smiled to himself at the trueness of the statement.

Sarah always attended the Winter Solstice ball.

Had done ever since she won their little tête-à-tête. The first few 'Yule Brights' after her victory, she'd persuaded a goblin to sneak her in. Jareth had pretended not to notice her trespass and kept his distance.

But when she'd come of age four years ago, he'd issued her a formal invitation. A single night of the year in her company. She arrived late, but she never failed to make an entrance.

Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they danced. A friendship cultivated in mere hours spread out over nearly a decade…

Last year she'd kissed him; a wild carefree kiss to end the night on, and that memory was still burning his heart down to the embers. He'd returned it in kind, a sweet goodnight that brought a lump into his throat whenever he thought about it.

He wanted so much more now, it was a permanent yearning.

"But this one?" persisted Yâlda from down by his feet, seated on a silk footstool and wriggling uncomfortably in her dress (a glittering ball gown in a riot of autumnal tones to pair with the butterfly masquerade mask, all a far cry from the potato sack she usually wore). "She's gonna be angry."

Jareth's smile widened. Gods, how glorious that would be. For jealousy to inflame those hazel eyes of hers…

"What if she throws a second chair through the bloody window?" asked another goblin from behind his crow-skull shaped mask, a large hat with a sweeping brim darkening the eye holes into deep shadows.

Jareth smirked.

"Lóhri," he said, reaching to tip the beak of the mask up, revealing the unexpectedly handsome face beneath. "Has anyone ever told you what a beauty you would've been as a human?"

Lóhri snorted, "I ain't volunteering, Ma-jer-sty," and waved Jareth's hand off, letting the mask drop back into place.

"His volunteer is here already," said Yâlda, pointing through the crowd, and Jareth turned his head to catch a glance at the figure blending into the throng.

A complicated smile crossed his lips. Not particularly pleased, but not particularly displeased either. If anyone had possessed the audacity, they might have described it as nervous, but he suppressed it artfully.

"Gone and dressed the part," Lóhri commented as they caught a glimpse of elegant white silk moving through the crowd; a wide flared skirt, and a corseted sleeveless bodice embroidered with pearls. A black lace mask flared into enormous devil horns above a pretty face with a regal grin.

It couldn't be argued. Roswen had dressed the part.

"Proper bridal," Tojî agreed, rolling his shoulders to get more comfortable in his waistcoat. "Should get your girl good and green."

"Tojî, it might be Yule, but the bog is open year round," Jareth growled as he watched his counterpart for the evening settle at the fringes of the crowd. "Be more discreet."

"Apologies, Sire," Tojî muttered. "Hard to keep my manners when I'm starvin' to death."

"Food has been provided," replied Jareth cooly, his gaze traveling back to the mirror with impatience.

"Yeah, but only those little finger bits again," Yâlda grouched. "If I'm ten times the size, it should be ten times the dinner."

"Yâlda," Jareth warned.

"And they're all on them stupid moving dishes," she continued.

"Yâlda—"

"If we gotta hunt the dinner—"

"Yâlda, shut—

"It should at least be a whole chick'n."

"Up."

"Each."

Jareth rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh.

He shifted uncomfortably, watching Roswen's entourage fill any gaps the goblins had left in the hall. The burdensome feeling of waiting was chafing his nerves to threads as he tried to keep his eyes off the mirror and a stream of endlessly pessimistic questions off his mind.

What if she didn't come?

What if she'd forgotten him?

What if she'd moved on?

He forced himself away from that particular downward slope. One last look at the mirror to calm his nerves and then he'd stop. A watched Sarah never—

The mirror shimmered like a bubble, and the chatter around him diminished, before falling silent completely, the crowd of faces around him turning sharply to the mirror.

He stood.

She always made an entrance…

Sarah stepped through, and Jareth took a second to breathe. She was a vision, and each passing year only seemed to intensify her beauty. A valentine red dress hugged her torso, flared out into a wide skirt with a slit up the side, he noted, catching a flash of thigh as she hopped down the small step into the arms of the goblins crowding the alcove. They greeted her loudly, tousling her waterfall of hair and delivering hard slaps on her back, arms wrapped around her shoulders as they erupted into cheers. She jostled them in return, hugging hard and lifting masks to make a fuss of their human features.

Jareth waited. Waited for her eyes to find him in the crowd, straining to be noticed. His heart pounded when she finally did.

Sarah grinned wide, a dazzling smile that made his throat hurt as he tried not to dwell on how little he saw it.

"Hello again," she said across the hubbub, and he smiled back, knowing how lovesick he looked and not caring to hide it with detached regality.

"Hello again."


Author Note:

Hello again!

It's me, back with another Labyrinth Christmas romance! Please don't look at the large pile of WIPs behind me, that's nothing, that's not a problem at all. This was intended to be a one shot (seriously don't look at the WIPs!) but best laid plans and such?

Thank you ENORMOUSLY to my loyal betas RavenLove12 and Em_Kayelle, you guys make writing so easy for me, you are the most inspiring people I know!

Happy Yule all you lovely people! Please, leave a comment in the lil box!