The hallways were dark. Paintings and vases were hidden in thick shadows and candles, sconces and fireplaces were doused. The house was quiet.

Mostly.

Sarah was trying her best to keep quiet but found herself plagued with uncontrollable giggling. She was skirting along the wall, peeking around every corner she came across. Behind her walked Jareth, wholly comfortable and unbothered. Sarah was clutching a bottle in her hands, which Jareth had repeatedly attempted to take from her.

She turned away again when he fished for it, tiptoeing down the hall. She froze and backed away, almost tripping over her own feet when she heard footsteps approaching. Jareth steadied her with two hands on her shoulders and Sarah held her breath. A soft giggle erupted from her throat and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. The footsteps disappeared at the other end of the hall. The woman kept still for a few more seconds before letting out a sigh of relief.

Jareth leaned down towards her, whispering in her ear. "Are you trying to get caught, Sarah? This is a terrible time to channel your inner schoolgirl."

Sarah shied away from the tickle of his breath against her ear and tried to keep quiet. "I'm not! I get nervous."

"It's lovely," he said amusedly, grinning when she pulled away. In the short moment of distraction he finally managed to snatch the bottle from her grasp.

"He-!" Quickly she put her hand over her mouth. "Hey," she whispered, turning to him. "Give that back!" He lifted the bottle to his face while his free hand kept her at bay. Sarah looked up and down the hallway before turning back to him. "I took the first bottle I saw. Is it any good?"

The man grinned. "It has potential. Let's go."

"Wait, what?" Sarah walked after him. "What do you mean 'potential'?"

Jareth continued to walk down the hall. He could feel Sarah hold one of his arms, using him as a shield to hide behind. "You are aware that there is no need to skulk around like some kind of criminal, right?" He looked at the label of a door before turning another corner. Down the next hall, he finally found what he was looking for.

"Why do you suppose a blind man labels his doors?"

"Frequently changing staff, I presume. I'm more concerned about the decor. Though I suppose he does have an excuse for that." They shared a chuckle before Jareth twisted the handle on the door and pushed. When he walked in, Sarah followed and almost instantly nearly knocked something over. The room was almost pitch black, save from some faintly glowing crystal stones in a glass cabinet. He closed the door behind them while summoning a crystal. With a flick of his wrist the crystal floated ahead. It moved in a slow path to light the candles around the room.

Sarah had imagined Underground offices would have bookcases along the walls. Piles of papers and scrolls strewn about tables and desks. Maps of fantastical places with unfamiliar scripts. Maybe an inkpot and a large fancy quill. This study had practically no books and certainly no bookcases. It just had tacky statues, large and small alike, positioned in every nook and cranny. Cabinets aplenty, solely placed there to hold more collectables. Spaces on the walls were adorned with paintings, wood carvings and tapestries. Even the edges of the floor were littered with all sorts of objects. Much like the sitting room, all the bits and baubles scattered around confirmed Jareth's brother to be an overgrown magpie.

"This room passes a resemblance to the junkyard I got dumped in when I was running the Labyrinth." Sarah received no response.

Jareth was standing next to her, his eyes glued to something behind her. The woman frowned at the unfamiliar look of nervousness on his face. Opening the bottle he grabbed some glasses positioned upside down on the otherwise empty desk and poured each of them a drink. Sarah took the glass he offered her, turning around so she could see what he'd been looking at.

Mounted on the wall was a large canvas, held by an elaborate golden frame. Several faces stared back at her. Six, to be exact. Half of them were familiar. The most familiar face was one of which its bearer was right behind her, now earnestly downing his drink. Another one was their current host, milky eyes staring down at her under reddish curls. Another familiar face looked at her with patience and kindness, gentle brown eyes harboring a hint of a smile. Alana.

The three other faces were unknown to her, but all three were younger. The oldest of them was a man with red, short curly hair, stubble and dark eyes. Sarah would wager he was approximately in his early to mid-twenties. The next person looked a lot like Alana might have in her early teens. Her eyes were brown as well and her face slightly more rounded and her eyebrows a little heavier. The youngest one was most definitely a child. Five years old, maybe. Her face reflected a rather playful nature, her eyes the only pair that were turned away. Her hair was near ginger and messy. Her eyes reminded Sarah of a young doe, wide and dark with full lashes. All figures were clad in apparel fit for royalty. Rich orange tints with white accents and elaborate patterns.

Sarah looked at the most familiar face. Jareth, unmistakably so. While it was beautifully painted, his eyes didn't live up to the real ones. She could see sorrow in his painted gaze. A small crease in his forehead and his lips thin. There was enough definition to tell that his neck was tense.

The drink was left forgotten in her hand.

She repeatedly met the eyes of the figures. The painting was positioned to match the people's sizes, or so it seemed. Over and over again she took in their features. The silence stretched on for minutes on end while Sarah's mind was trying to comprehend what she was looking at. She'd been so engrossed that she hadn't noticed she had walked closer, now barely a foot away from the lifesize faces. So engrossed, that it wasn't until she swore she could smell Jareth that she remembered he was there behind her.

Slowly, she turned to face him. He was looking at the painting, his mismatched eyes flying across the canvas. The pain she saw in his gaze was heartbreaking. There were centuries of memories in those eyes. Hauntings and mental scars he had refused to talk about. A dozen mortal lifetimes with more than a fair share of pain.

The woman carefully took his free hand and intertwined their fingers. Quietly, she turned back to the painting, meeting again with familiar and unfamiliar eyes alike.

There had been no doubt in her mind that they had been standing there for at least half an hour, staring at the piece of art. Jareht's hold on her hand was firm, like it was the only thing anchoring him to the here and now.

When she moved to pull her hand back, his fingers tightened. "Don't leave."

"I won't. I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere," Sarah said quietly, squeezing his hand before carefully pulling back. Finally, his eyes shifted to hers. His eyes tended to have a certain intensity, but nothing had prepared them for the full force of the sorrow laid bare in them now. The shimmer in those haunting orbs. The tension in his brows. Even his skin seemed just a shade more ashen. It triggered an unfamiliar sort of fight or flight response in her. After a moment, his gaze slowly moved back to the painting.

The brunette carefully took the empty glass from his hand and moved to the desk to pour a new one. When she held it out to him, he cradled her hand around it, letting out a shaky breath. The man held her silently for so long that her arm was starting to get tired, yet the air between them was heavy enough that she nearly forgot to breathe, let alone move.

"Warren is the eldest," he said quietly, finally taking the glass. "He became blind in his youth. Healers and medical professionals studied him for years but could find no indication which caused the loss of vision. Even wisemen and mystics had no answers. Father had tried everything to restore him. Warren was heartbroken… Left to his own devices for over a decade while people around him scrambled for answers and solutions. Angry and frustrated, father severely scarred his face with a spell that practically tore half his face from his skull."

Sarah shuddered, noting how the scars she had seen earlier today were not visible in the painting.

"I was born after Warren and became the next in line. A new victim of my father's destructive and restrictive teachings. A backup plan with potential after a disgraceful failure. Alana came next. Endlessly obedient, kind and caring and willing to sacrifice for politics and family. That was all Father thought she was good for. Political leverage. She offered me warmth and support in my father's time of frigid pursuit for power and succession. He was disgusted by the affections Alana and I shared for one another. My level of potential and threat to leave was the only thing withholding him from sending dear Lana away forever.

Next came ambitious Cillian. A boy as cold as my father but lacking in magical prowess. Even with daily lessons for years on end, my younger brother could do little more than move a quill two inches. He was barely a man before my father brought a brutal end to his life. Mother claimed it to be an accident, but I knew better." His voice was cold, laced with anger. "Imogen was born several years after Cillian's passing, a beautiful soul with a strong drive for equality, peace and fairness. Father sought to marry her off while Alana maintained her poise and usefulness as political leverage. At the age comparable to a mortal ten year old Imogen was betrothed to a king of a small sovereignty." He sighed deeply, downing his drink. "Imogen was violently abused during her engagement. At her wedding I discovered she carried a glamor. A mask to shield her broken body. Had I known earlier what she was subjected to, I might have been able to save her. She died on the night of her wedding's consummation. In bed, by the hands of the monster she was forced to wed. My mother was the one to find her a little over a day after she passed. By then she was already cold. Blue. Stiffened. I rushed to the repulsive scene hearing the wails of my heartbroken mother. My little sister wouldn't have been recognizable, were it not for the birthmark on her leg."

Sarah looked at the eyes of the young girl, tears pooling in her eyes.

He looked down at the last face on the bottom center of the piece. "Niamh never had a chance to create any stories. At the mortal age equivalent of four, father had descended into senseless madness and paranoia. In destructive rage and psychosis he drowned her in a lake by his castle after stuffing her clothes with rocks, ripping out her hair and tying her legs with reeds."

Sarah felt physically sick, trying to fight the swaying of the room while hurt and hatred raged inside her.

"I had this painting commissioned several years after that. I intended it to be a commemorative painting, but it became a curse. All I could see was visions of their dead faces. Horribly bulging eyes and blue skin… Horrifically mangled bodies… I gifted it to Warren, in hopes it would be forgotten or lost." His eyes lowered and he turned from the painting. "I couldn't bear to destroy what little was left of them. I… I couldn't tell you if Niamh really looked like this. While it pains me to say so… I don't remember."

Sarah looked from the painting to Jareth, who stood with his back to her and his head down. Dispassionately he put his glass on the desk. She put her glass next to his and looked up at him. "I can't even imagine… I have no words… I just… I'm so sorry, Jareth. I'm so… so sorry."

Seeing the shimmer in her eyes he smiled softly. "Don't cry, my Precious Thing." The man pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to his chest. "While I mourn my lost siblings every day and will likely continue to do so for the remainder of my life, had things happened differently, I might never have met you."

Sarah choked out a hollow laugh, burying her face into his chest and wrapping her arms around him. "Some sorry consolation prize that is."

He gently pushed her back and looked down into her hazel eyes. "You mean everything to me, Sarah. Your courage, your capability for forgiveness and kindness, your wit. I admire you, Sarah. You are beautiful. Inside and out. We might not have gotten off on the right foot at the start, but I cherish every second I had with you and will count my blessings for every second I will have with you in the future, however long it might be."

There was no holding back after his heartfelt and genuine confession. She quickly turned away from him, vigorously starting to rub her eyes. "Oh God," she mumbled uncomfortably. "Here come the waterworks." Halfway through her sentence she burst into sobs. Jareth chuckled and turned her back around so he could embrace her again.

Eventually she calmed down enough that the tears stopped flowing.

The woman looked up at him. He smiled at her, his thumb brushing the skin underneath her eyes, which were definitely red and puffy by now. Chuckling awkwardly she rubbed her eyes. "Nice going, me. Descend into a sniveling mess, why don't you." Sarah sniffled and took a calming breath. "I bet I look-"

"Absolutely stunning," he interrupted with a chiding grin. "As always. Though I do hate to see you cry."

Sarah sniffed, self-consciously fixing her hair as a means to distract herself. "I could use a drink."

Jareth handed her the glass, which he noted was still almost untouched. "I think you mortals refer to that as alcoholism," he said playfully.

Sarah smiled wobbly, looking down at the drink. After a deep sigh she cleared her throat. "So… What sort of enchanted liquor did I get? How does it have potential? Other than it helping us to get wasted."

The man poured himself another drink. For a moment he held a sip in his mouth, pushing it from one cheek to another before swallowing it. "Savor it and let me know what you feel. This is a rather unique brandy which originates in the south of my kingdom."

The woman took another sip, mimicking the way Jareth had let it pass through his mouth before swallowing it. She stayed still to fully focus on whatever it was she should be feeling, hands clasped around the glass. Her eyes widened when her tongue simultaneously tingled and grew numb.

Jareth grinned and put his glass aside. "It's called Nimhneach. It causes shallow numbness."

"Oh, that's normal? Thank God. I thought I was having an allergic reaction," Sarah said while moving her tongue experimentally. "So, now what? Stick a finger in the bottle?"

"I was thinking of something a little more fun," he murmured. Using that particular tone, he immediately saw her body tense. Their eyes met but he did not move closer.

Sarah looked up at him, wide-eyed. It was rather clear what he was referring to, though he wasn't acting on it. He was giving her a choice. The option to refuse. His eyes were hyper focused on her. Intense but gentle and hypnotizing as always. The doting smile on his face made her heart flutter. She discarded her own glass onto the desk and took a step closer. He remained almost perfectly still. Her free hand reached up to his face and his eyes drifted shut before her palm even made contact with his cheek. The inside of her hand gently brushed along his smooth skin, over his high cheekbone. Her fingers brushed the shell of his slightly pointed ear and towards the back of his neck. His lips parted quietly. Feeling the warm skin on her fingertips she rose onto the tips of her toes and pushed her lips against his. It only took the slightest of tugs for him to lean down closer towards her.

After a chaste brush she pulled back slightly, just enough to break the contact. He continued to remain perfectly still. Her name fell off his lips in the softest of whispers.

Encouraged by his captivated murmur she leaned in again.

With the limits of her mouth blurred her senses tried to figure out ways to correct itself. It scattered experiences around her body like a confused game of pong. His autumn rain scent seemed ten times more potent, drifting into her nostrils and stealing her breath. His presence seeped through her as though she was standing in a freezer, numbing her senses and flooding them all at once.

Her free hand joined the other by the back of his head, her fingers winding in his fine hair. Each and every one of her senses craved more. It was dizzying. While her lips were maddeningly desensitized her hands could feel his soft locks like downy feathers in her grasp. Goosebumps tingled along her skin. His skin felt cool compared to her own yet sparked hot like fresh embers against her palms. She let herself be drawn in, her body arching up to him and the tip of her tongue teasing against the seam of his lips, finding that the numbing feeling started dissipating from her tongue.

His hands rose up to cup her cheeks, contracting their worlds to nothing more than one another. His fingertips brushed along her skin. Seeking. Restless. Trailing down to her neck and over her shoulders. Ghosting over her skin one moment and grasping her tightly the next.

Suddenly each layer of clothing felt like a curse. The woman's hands lowered to his jacket, nails digging in the leather cloth and undoing the button that held it together. Her heart leaped when Jareth picked her up and sat her down on the desk, stepping smoothly in between her legs before his hands rose up to her face again.

Both of them snapped out of their haze when they heard a crash right next to the desk. One of the glasses lay shattered on the floor. Sarah leaned back with a giggle. "Okay, let's take it easy, before we trash the room."

The man's eyes, now glazed and dark, wandered down towards her mouth. Smiling when his fingertips brushed along her lower lip. "I do rather like this mortal custom."

"I bet you do." The brunette put her hand against his chest when he leaned back in. "Jareth -"

The Goblin King shushed her gently, pressing a finger to her lips before brushing her hair behind her ear. Placing a soft peck against her lips he took her hand and held it while she slipped off the desk. The blonde laughed quietly. She'd rather hoped he wouldn't notice how her knees had wobbled.

Both of them looked at the painting again.

"Thank you for being here with me."

She looked up at him. His eyes had cleared and were once again gentle. "And thank you for letting me be here. For sharing with me. It means a lot."

His hand squeezed hers. "Let's retire for the evening. I'm sure you're due for a good night's rest."

"Shouldn't we… Uh… Clean up?"

He waved a dismissive hand, already headed for the door. "The servants will take care of it." Before he crossed the threshold he glanced back, grinning wickedly. "I trust your legs will carry you?"

Frowning, the brunette willed her legs to support her in her swift exit of the room, brushing past him with a huff.

—-

Stepping out of her room Sarah peeked to the closed door next to hers. Briefly she debated whether to head downstairs or knock on the neighboring door. Faint light streamed in from the hallway, so it was probably still early. Turning to the other door her hand rose to knock, then briefly paused before her knuckles rapped gently against the wood.

"Enter," came a familiar voice from the other side.

Somewhat nervously the woman opened the door. Jareth was standing by the desk with a half eaten apple in hand, leaning with one hand on the desk while reading a document. His poet shirt draped down his body, unbuttoned. He took a bite of his apple and straightened himself. Turning to face her he smiled warmly. "Good morning, Precious. Did you sleep well?"

"Fine, thanks. You?"

He turned around, finishing his apple while he signed the documents. With a wave of his hand, the paper disappeared. "I was mostly accompanied by a rather ghastly amount of paperwork."

"Oh… I'm sorry," she said, standing awkwardly near the door opening.

The blonde stretched. "Do come in, darling. You're letting a draft in." He let himself fall on the bed. His deep sigh hinted to weariness.

Sarah closed the door behind her and moved into the room. The bedroom was tidy, the bedsheets were untouched. His boots were put aside neatly by the door. Turning back to him she looked down to his lithe form sprawled on the foot of the bed.

"What's this?" Sarah frowned. His shirt was hanging open, exposing a part of his waist she knew had been wounded. Every trace of the large gashes and burns had gone completely. However, there were a few cuts and angry streaks of marred skin that looked to be on the verge of getting infected.

Somewhat absentmindedly he touched one of the wounds that was raw. "My healing spells could use some work but it can heal naturally from here."

"You cut those leftover purple things out by yourself?" The idea was somewhat sickening and concerning.

"I did," he confirmed. The silence stretched on for a moment, causing him to open his eyes to look at her. Her eyes were wide. "Not to worry, Sarah. I am fine. Want to join me?" He patted the empty bed next to him with a wide grin.

"In your dreams," Sarah mumbled defensively, staying safely outside of his range.

His eyes slipped closed again, the grin still on his face. "That would make for a very nice dream indeed."

The woman looked away so her eyes wouldn't linger on the planes of his stomach. "So, what's the plan, Your Majesty?"

"Use my well honed charms to woo you. Kiss you until you have stars in your eyes. We'll see where this comfortable bed will take us after that."

Feeling heat flooding her face she crossed her arms. "I suppose romance isn't dead after all," she muttered.

Jareth chuckled and leaned up onto his elbows. "Does my Sarah wish to be romanced?"

"Your Sarah," she said quickly, partially to distract both of them from her reddened face. "Would like to get this show on the road. So what's the plan? What are we going to do about this location Warren is trying to find?"

He conceded, rising to his feet and buttoning up his shirt. "I scouted this mountain for hours yesterday. I didn't find anything, so true to our agreement, we're heading south with a few men to deliver this lost puppy back to Beyza while the rest of the Regiment concern themselves with reconnaissance. I still need to deal with our unwelcome visitors."

"Jareth," Sarah said softly. "He's your brother…"

"He is a sentimental fool," the man grumbled irritably while he walked past her, fishing his waistcoat from a chair.

"This is important to him." Seeing the stiff and agitated motions he used to put on his jacket she walked up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and causing his somewhat stormy eyes to snap towards her. "Please, Jareth, give him another shot."

Looking into her pleading eyes he sighed and muttered something under his breath. Adjusting his amulet around his neck he looked away from her. "Fine. I'll make one more sweep on the south face this morning. While I am out, I want you to make sure that Warren will not only be groveling at my feet once I get back, but yours as well. We'll move out by noon." His eyes narrowed at her when he turned to face her, his forefinger on her chin tilting her face just a little further up. "I can't help but feel like you are using my affections to bend to your whims, sweetling."

Sarah grinned triumphantly and leaned closer. One finger twirled around one of the ruffles of his shirt. "Seems like I have wrapped you snuggly around my little finger."

The blonde remained still while he held her gaze, his expression tight. It was all too tempting to scoop her up and toss her on the bed. To show her that he could definitely withstand some of her begging.

Which he could.

Right?