Labyrinth Goblins and Golden Rings

The entire affair was beautiful, to be certain, but the charm of their beauty was just an illusion. The scene of festivities was a portrait of sinister debauchery and merry sin on a pristine pedestal of gold and lace, everything dirty and obscene made to glitter and shine like the rarest diamond, for if any group of beings knew the ways of illusion it was the Fae, who wove glamour about themselves like a second skin and knew best how to make the darker things in life appear so seductively enchanting. It was a grand party, each table filled with Fae spirits and delectable fruits, although the attending creatures had long bored of such mundane comforts, instead turning their eyes to more carnal conquests. A willow limbed sprite wrapped her brittle arms around a bulbous troll, a Fae so pretty it hurt to meet her aqua eyes lay atop a human male, who cried with each release, everyone was fornicating or drinking, and Jareth smiled, a expression more akin to a wolf bearing its teeth. A good party, his goblins would've loved to witness such a lively scene, however, such lower beings were hardly on the guest list.

A woman with hair the color of spun rubies and lips like the fairest ivory met Jareth's eyes from across his newly transformed throne room, and the crystal he was lazily toying with slipped up his leather clad palm, rolling thoughtfully across each knuckle in a overly drawn out movement. Her too white lips curved in a smirk, at the same time her amethyst hued eyes twinkled in the dancing lights, giving her presence an ethereal quality as she eyed him in such an obvious manner. Always vein, and notoriously picky, Jareth eyed her in contemplation; her coloring was odd, not quite beautiful to his eyes, but catching in its rarity, like a curiously mis-colored bauble. At his tilted head she batted her thick ruby eyelashes, and gave him a smile that was more than interested, and with a moue of disdain his mismatched eyes dropped to the bottom of his crystal goblet and the play of light that shown at the center, indicating it was indeed emptied of spirits. Lately, conquests of the flesh had become less and less stimulating, although in his endless lifetime he supposed everything was bound to become tarnished by its own reoccurrences with each passing decade, the appeal for physical gratification had just begun to significantly plummet in the last decade or so, making the Goblin King more taciturn and rather sullen in demeanor for the lack of entertainment.

Evelain, his beautiful sister, sauntered up towards his throne of bone, her mismatched eyes, one green the other brown, betraying her station of royalty, surveyed the proceedings with a sort of blasé interest. Her lips curved into a wry smirk as she bent and kissed his smooth cheek, her auburn locks caressing him as she hovered. For a moment, they simply shared a companionable silence, his sister was often called the Witch of Were, the latter because she alone took in the half breed spawns of mythical beasts and humans, and the first because she seemed to have a innate knowledge of what was passing, what had yet to pass, and what had long since past. He found her manners charming, but her ability to see through a person, to know them so intimately, was a source of jealousy amongst their peers, and wary suspicion from their rivals. Yet in Jareth's mind, she was still, and would always be, his favorite sibling.

"Ah brother, you do produce a fine spectacle," she murmured, sipping blood red berry juice from her own shiny goblet, not a stray drop dared to mar her perfect lips. Her eyes flickered over a moaning pixie, her wings fluttering as the shadowed creature beneath bit into her leaf green skin. Whether her moans were pain or pleasure, was hard to discern, his sister merely blinked and reasserted her view.

"And you, sister, are creating quite a stir as usual," he pointed out, darkly eyeing a gathering of male Faeries who watched his precious sister far too covetously for his liking. She frowned, glaring at the group as he had, her eyes flashing in a manner that set them into a shifting mass of unease that was poorly hidden as a change of topic.

"Pathetic, is it not?" She sighed airily, "They see my power, my kin, and my crown," her heart shaped face darkened, "It would be nice if once a man came in search of just my body." She eyed her delicate weeping willow gown, the vines twisting her toned limbs over a sheer white material and a few white orchids blooming at her shoulders, before returning her gaze to the crowd, "Alas, they are all petty and dull, do you not agree?" Jareth made an affirming noise in the back of his throat. She swept a curtain of shimmering red brown hair from one delicate shoulder, as if to say 'it can't be helped I suppose', it was as close to shrugging as any Fae would ever get.

"Have you heard from Ferric?" he asked politely. Their half brother was always getting himself into trouble, and dear Evelain was often fishing him back out of it. She hid her smirk behind one ivory hand, eyes glittering.

"He is distracted of late, dear brother, it seems he has found another mortal," they exchanged a look of understanding. It was their collective family's weakness, their taste for what others of their ilk would call undesirable, it was widely rumored that eccentric sex preferences ran in the royal blood line, it was no secret their father had often indulged his unusual tastes, proof of this was most obvious in Ferric's unorthodox lineage. Had Ferric been any other than their father's child, he would not be of Faerie, would not be allowed within its walls because of the tainted blood in his veins, but a royal Fae was a royal Fae, no matter the mix of species. These days they were too rare for people to be as picky about blood lines as they once had been, Faerie's people had long since dwindled in number, and they could not afford the loss of even one royal child.

"And what of you, brother?" Evelain whispered in mock conspiracy, "What gets that icy goblin blood boiling these days?" Her smirk implied she already knew.

"I have no preconceived conquest," he informed her, sprawling back on his grand throne, "merely a… sustained intrigue."

"Sarah Williams," at her announcement his eyes sliced to her amused profile, rage staining his usually fair complexion, turning his cheeks the most becoming shade of apple red. Few would dare to mention that mortal to him, fewer still would have the gall to smile upon doing so.

"No," he hissed curtly. She laughed, and it was like the sound of a babbling brook trickling from her parted lips.

"Why do you insist on trying to fool me?" her gown grew more agitated, the vines snaking her biceps and forearms as the orchids bloomed madly at her neckline. Sometimes emotions were conveyed through a Fae's glamour, as was evident as her facial features smoothed and her dress no longer grew and twisted quite so madly.

"Why do you insist on provoking me?" He retorted in a constricted tone, suddenly in a foul mood and wishing his too perceptive sibling somewhere else, preferable far away from him. She made an 'hmm' noise in the back of her throat, eyes distractedly traveling the room.

"Perhaps I know something of this mortal you claim interests you not," she said carefully, "Mayhap I can't help but nudge at you, even though with your stubborn nature it will likely as not, do me no good." She peered at him from the corner of her eyes, "You seem more irritated than smitten, brother dear, was it only five years before you boasted of claiming her?" Jareth gnashed his pointy teeth, his fingers clenching the smooth bone of his throne's arms in an effort to control his quick temper.

"I don't wish to speak on it," he told her flatly.

"Of course not, it is bad manners to bring up one's own failures," at his impressive scowl she refrained from comment for a few minutes, content to let him simmer and stew in his own thoughts. What thoughts they were, too, laced in a heady rage, burned by heartache and resentment, there was far too much chaos in him in concerns to the cruel eyed youth, so much in fact, that he hadn't even graced her with his presence. She had _dared_ to deny him, and there would be a price for that transgression, but until he knew whether he wanted to break her fragile mortal body or own it completely, he refrained from visiting her. Truth be told, although he'd never admit it, in concerns to Sarah, his own impulses frightened him, he was far more volatile with that one mortal youth than he had been in centuries.

As Goblin King and heir to the Faerie throne he was well known for his indifference, the chill of his temperament was legendary, as Fae were passionate by nature, that he, their king, was so cold in mindset was an oddity often remarked on behind his back. He alone could rule such idiotic creatures as goblins and be unaffected by it, simply ruling with a grace befitting his station, and never complaining about the lack of sport. As most noble Fae would be prone to, had they been given lands boasting such vile and stupid creatures, but Jareth was, if not content, indifferent to his task. Of course, his Labyrinth was a fine distraction from boredom. Or had been, until he started seeing emerald eyes at every corner, his Escher room was _still_ in shambles, that fit of rage had even his stoutest goblin denizen avoiding him that day. He wanted to hold Sarah, fickle Sarah, in the palm of his hand and squeeze until she admitted how foolish she'd been, or until her delicate bones snapped like toothpicks, either way would be satisfactory.

"You are so silly," Evelain was the only woman who could say such a thing about him, "Make up your mind brother, do you want her or not?" He frowned, disgruntled that she'd been following his thoughts, as was her habit, and part of the reason their kind often avoided her. It was disconcerting to have anyone else in your psyche.

"Why should it matter?" He grumbled.

"Well," she turned to face him fully for the first time this evening, "If you only want to kill her, then it matters little. If you wish to win her affections…." She trailed off, suddenly feigning preoccupation with one of the scenes before them, it was a poor ruse, but he succumbed to it regardless.

"Don't toy with me," he warned darkly. Evelain merely smirked indulgently.

"Oh, very well, see for yourself," she plucked one of the large white blossoms from her dress, displaying it before him. It grew and wavered until a thin, almost translucent glass shown in its depths, a vision forming murkily on the silver glass, that of a slender green eyed woman, grown from the bean pole like figure of a child into the more sultry curves of a full grown adult. Her eyes were sparkling with joy, as a second figure joined her, dipping to one knee elegantly and producing a velveteen box with a flourish. Jareth was not so unfamiliar with human customs to not be able to recognize the significance of this act. He growled lowly, in the back of his throat, his features turned into a visage of malice and dislike, the room temperature plummeted around him coating his surrounding briefly in an achingly cold frost. Evelain turned her face slightly to hide the triumph in her expression; she alone remained undusted by the painful frost in the five foot proximity of the Goblin King's throne.

"Are you well?" she asked politely, eyes twinkling at his expense. His own mismatched eyes glimmered with unspent wrath.

"Oh, my body is quite fine," he evaded; a direct lie was forbidden their species, but twisted truths were much the same when used correctly. Evelain nodded, speaking with him for a while before politely taking her leave. He brewed the whole time, his fingers clenching and unclenching. How dare she! Chose a mere mortal over him? His eyes narrowed, such a humiliation would not be allowed, perhaps it was finally time to pay _dear_ Sarah a visit, and remind her to whom she belonged. Not to some pathetic human who would waste her, but to him, a beautiful and fearsome creature who would own her, devour her, worship her, no one save himself deserved her. She was his; and his alone. It was time she learned that.

For the remains of the night, the look on the Goblin King's beautiful features had anyone who was unlucky enough to meet his eyes shuddering and politely turning their gaze elsewhere. No creature was brave enough to risk being the target of his wrath, Faerie or not.

Sarah threw up her arms and spun, twirling until the earth around her blurred into one splash of green, red, brown, and grey. It was autumn, her favorite season, when the leaves turned crisp and glorious, sporting banana yellows and apple reds, even the deep espresso browns were beautiful to her. She crunched the foliage beneath her feet, feeling infinite, free, a wild spirit with no boundaries or limitations, simply gliding through the splendor of wood smoke scented air and the mundane beauty of suburbia.

"Sarah! Wait up!" The panicky male voice stole some of the magic from the moment, washing her in a cool spray of reality. Her arms drooped and she paused, rolling her eyes as Kent ran to catch up. He was a slender man, with a strong chiseled jaw, still sporting a day's worth of yellow stubble, his pouty lips turned into a full smile as he reached her.

"Damn," he panted, "I've been calling you since two blocks ago, how the hell do you spin _and _run? I'd get dizzy." Sarah sniffed, folding her arms and letting a grin spread her lips.

"A refined talent, Kent, now what was it you needed that you ran all the way to find me?" she loved Kent, he was one of her best friends, but he was always so _serious_, so down to earth. They often balanced each other out because of it, but she still resented his logical mind on occasion, especially since hers was still so prone to fanciful imaginings. He often scoffed and called her silly.

"I have, the absolute best most secretive plot," he knew how to draw her in, a devious glint in his brown eyes. She waited, interest piqued. "If you tell one soul, Sarah Williams, I will personally hunt you down and _kill_ you." Completely enraptured now, and always a lover of a good secret, she was almost confused when he pulled a thick black box from his sports jacket. She squealed, ignoring his eye roll.

"Oh my GOD, Kent!" It was an instinctive female reaction. He smiled then, a slight upturn of the lips, making his boyish features look almost embarrassed as a slight blush grew on his already wind chapped cheeks. "Is that what I think it is?" She asked breathily. He nodded. "Show me, show me!" She hopped up and down. He laughed at her antics.

Slowly, he opened the blue satin box, revealing a perfect pear shaped diamond encased in white gold, and Sarah gasped in awe. "Do you think she'll like it?" He asked self consciously. Sarah wrapped him in a large hug, giggling.

"She'll _love_ it, Kent," Sarah proclaimed with an air of authority. She knew Beth best, as her confidant she felt completely secure in saying that glittering ring would send her very best friend into a romantic swoon, complete with birds singing and all the works. It was perfectly Beth, from the pear shaped stone to the heart shaped prongs. He grinned; looking pleased with himself, and ruffled back his feathered blonde hair nervously.

"Is it too sudden?" He worried aloud. Sarah shook her head vigorously, having been privy to Beth's musings lately, she knew her friend yearned to settle down with the handsome man in front of her, she'd been fretting about it for months, wishing and hoping that her high school sweet heart would finally ask her to tie the knot. Beth was a romantic, and she and Kent had been together since their freshman year, to Sarah's eyes, it was a modern day fairy tale.

"How're you going to do it?" Sarah asked, "Or do I have to wait to see?" He gnawed his lower lip, eyeing the ring he'd displayed with a very cute puppy like expression.

"I actually stopped you for that reason, I need your opinion," covertly he eyes the empty suburb street to ensure no one was looking. "I was thinking I'd take her to that Italian place we had our first real date at, the one with the crystal chandelier?" Sarah nodded in encouragement, "Then, after dinner, I'd just, well…." A blush lit his cheeks, and he glanced downward. "Don't you dare laugh, Williams." He ordered, taking a knee, box outstretched. "I'd say this…" Sarah fizzled in excitement at the preview he was giving, she was _so_ happy for him and Beth.

"Beth," his eyes were sincere, somber, "I loved you from the first moment in science class, whether I admitted it at first or not, you were the most gorgeous girl in that class, and it wasn't long before I discovered you were the most beautiful woman in the world. I truly believe there is only one woman for each man, the perfect other half to make a person whole. I've known for five years you were that other half, please Beth, make me whole." By this time he was blushing profusely, and rose quickly back to his feet, having just done something as 'unmanly' as declaring his feelings. Sarah sighed wistfully.

"When someone purposes to me, I hope it sounds _half_ that good, Kent," she told him earnestly. His grin was ear to ear, a young man obviously in love. Despite how happy she was, despite the fact that she was solely concentrating on how amazing it would be to see her two best friends married, Sarah felt a ghostly tingle on the back of her neck and shuddered. Suddenly cold, she rubbed her arms, noting that goose bumps had spread across her skin, a cool wind picked up and all the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. It seemed suddenly foreboding, and while there was absolutely no reason for it, dread pooled in her abdomen, thick and icy.

"You okay?" Kent asked, noting the sudden change in her mood, from insanely happy to suddenly reserved and thoughtful. She nodded, managing a weak smile.

"Sure, just chilly I think," she patted his shoulder as he secreted the jewelry box back into his jacket.

"You better head home then," said the ever practical Kent, adding mischievously, "remember, it's our secret." Sarah nodded, smiling, and tried to control an involuntary shiver.

"Yep," she winked, "I'll see you around, call me when she accepts." Her assurance of Beth's reaction seemed to go a long way to calming Kent's nerves and he grinned, nodding happily, and waved as he turned back towards his house. She threw a finger wave over her shoulder, running a bit to get back towards her parent's house, feeling unsettled and blaming it on her body's reaction to the new change in weather, perhaps she was still so accustomed to summer that her skin wasn't ready for the elements. Or so she told herself.

She flung herself inside her family home, feeling silly and exuberant now that the strange chill had come and gone. More products of her over active imagination she supposed wryly, she'd always been very good at playing tricks on herself. With keen eyes she noted the house was empty, her parents must have taken Toby out for dinner, as he was still too young to be by himself at home. An energetic six year old, with shiny blue eyes and angelic blonde curls, her darling sibling could steal your heart in one glance. She relished every moment with him, had made a point to do so, ever since she'd won him back from the fearsome Goblin King. Whether that was reality or more fiction, a dream or a grand adventure, it had the needed result; she no longer resented her half sibling in the least.

She'd considered many times that she might be a bit touched in the head, conversing with dwarves through mirrors, laughing with a small dog about his days guarding a bridge, and making small talk with a creature that made friends with rocks. If she ever spoke of it, it would be enough to warrant a cat scan at the very least, that much she was certain. Yet, that didn't make her friends any less precious. So what if she was perhaps, just maybe, a bit crazy and hallucinating? What did it matter, her visions were harmless, comforting, well, ever since she'd stopped see the so feared Goblin King, having shattered his power over her so long ago in the room of stair cases that lead to nowhere. Like those stairs, his pretty declarations had led nowhere, and once she'd one back Toby, she had ceased hearing of, or from, the so glamorous Jareth. It seemed his interest had only been a smoke screen, as she'd well known all along; she hastened to add to herself defensively.

So she dashed up the stairs, trying to call herself a fool, but not so quick to dismiss her imagination. So what if that sensation, like ghostly fingers and chilled wind, had been so similar to the one she'd felt that night so many years ago in Jareth's presence? It was coincidence, merely an odd occurrence she was probably blowing way out of proportion. Still, she'd feel much better after talking to Hoggle or Sir Didymus, just to be certain. While college life had been splendid, everything she could hope for, it was nice to be back home, and have the ability to call on them whenever she wished. No other mirror but her bedroom mirror could summon them, something she'd cried over the first night she'd tried in her old dorm room. She'd been afraid they were lost to her forever, seeing as she'd just turned eighteen and reached that so desired state of adulthood. She'd been terrified that upon reaching this stepping stone in her life, she had lost her childhood companions.

Yet, to her utmost relief, winter vacation came her friends were there waiting, in her old bedroom mirror, full of concern from her prolonged absence. Shaking away the memories she leapt over the last step, still so much of the impetuous girl she'd been. Hurtling from one adventure to the next. She flung open her bedroom door and stopped cold, a wash of the almost painfully cold tingle prickling every nerve ending. But when she blinked, the heart stopping image was gone, and it was still the same princess décor of her youth, an empty and unthreatening room. Still, her breath panted, and she felt a chill from her toes to the follicles of her hair. Sarah knew what she'd seen, and what a sight it had been. For just an instant, an immeasurable moment in time, she'd saw something that got her heart pumping into a furious ruckus, and her pale cheeks burning.

Jareth, in all his pale glory, had been in her room, and on what was and was not her bed. It had been where her childishly frilly bed usually was, but she'd never own black silk sheets, nor such a large canopy, which was not lacey like hers, but covered in the same decadent black silk, the poles a dark gleaming wood intricately carved. The bed wasn't the most disturbing part, it was who she'd sworn she'd saw in it, his pale alabaster skin on display, hair like wheat and spun gold, a array of spikes around his inhumanly beautiful face. His expression, in that one glimpse, had been nothing short of animalistic, hungry, so fierce it'd sucked the air from her lungs, a look a predator gave its prey, a look a man gave a woman. Nobody had ever looked at silly Sarah Williams like that. He had, in that brief instant, but she'd blinked and it'd shattered, he wasn't here, nor was that bed, it was just her normal mundane room. A fresh flush heated her cheeks as she recalled his long sinewy leg, bent arrogantly, the silk riding up his thigh indecently, betraying the fact that under all that silk, he was naked.

"Get a hold of yourself," she ordered imperiously, slapping her cheeks lightly in a futile attempt to stop them from burning. With new determination she sat at her vanity, smiling softly at the large ornate mirror and trying to collect herself and her thoughts. Now, more than ever, she needed his advice.

"Hoggle, I need you," she told the mirror, and smiled in relief as his familiar profile shimmered into appearance. The first thing she noticed was that he didn't look happy, not that Hoggle was prone to smiling, but this time he looked decidedly agitated. His blue eyes were troubled, and he felt fingering his jewel purse self consciously. Sure signs that he was upset about something.

"Er… Sarah, this isn't a good time, ya see…." He peered at something beyond her view and his eyes grew wide and saucer like, "uh, can't really speak ta ya now, gots to go…"

"But wait! Hoggle, what's going on?" She demanded, and he eyed her regretfully.

"Wish that I could tell ya Sarah," he told her gravely, "but that rat- Oops, trust me Sarah, I have ta go." With that, he vanished, his image fading from the looking glass as if it never was there. She smacked the mirror with her palm, frustrated. There was only _one _person Hoggle called 'rat' and he was about six foot seven, regally arrogant, and a pompous poof of a man. Jareth. Her bad feeling was increasing by the moment.

"What are you up to now, Goblin King?" she muttered to herself, she'd heard second hand stories about the fearsome king from her friends, but even those had dwindled to nonexistent as the years progressed, she had figured it was because they assumed she'd lost interest. Or perhaps the mysterious Goblin King was actually laying low, but that seemed less likely.

Too embarrassed to ask after him herself, she'd pretended it didn't bother her. That she wasn't curious, that the small almost insignificant part of her yearned to see him, just one last time, didn't exist. Because wanting Jareth, in any sense of the word, was dangerous territory. He'd proven to her five years ago that he wasn't a creature to be trifled with, and not knowing where her fascination stemmed from, or how deep seated it was, she was unwilling to catch herself up in one of his twisted games to satisfy what she insisted was nothing more than a fleeting curiosity. Besides, likely as not, he'd just peer down at her haughtily and ask, 'Sarah, Sarah who?' Surely one mousy little fifteen year old hadn't had a big impact on him, he'd probably already forgotten her long ago.

"Say it again, Hogmeat," Jareth taunted, twirling his finger idly, smirking at the flustered dwarf dangling upside down in the air and rotating in dizzying circles. His face was blazing with righteous anger, turning the burlap colored skin a cherry red as he spun, flustered and ornery. "Call me that one last time; regale me with your wit." His tone leaked his ire with the lesser creature.

"Put me down!" Hoggle sputtered, trying his hardest not to lose his lunch all over Jareth's shiny leather boots. His majesty would be downright furious if he did, and he'd already ticked his fickle liege off far beyond what a Fae would usually tolerate from someone of his low social standing. Damn rat. Hoggle winced; in retrospect name calling is exactly why he was at this very moment dangling in the air, spinning like a damn drunken pixie.

"Are you making a demand of me, dear Hogbrain? How quaint," Jareth taunted candidly, allowing the dwarf to slam to the ground, as he noted with a curl of his lip the creature had been turning quite an ugly green color. Not to say that Hogdirt was ever a pleasant sight, but he was even more ghastly tinted green. Why Sarah counted him in her confidence, he could only guess at, and of course, seethe, for who was foolish enough to have a dwarf as a playmate, when she could instead have a beautiful Fae as a lover? All in all, Sarah's taste left something to be desired. Although he hadn't missed her response to his little preview moments before. His eyes glittered in a fresh wave of desire; her pallid image in Evelain's flower hadn't done her justice.

"Now, seeing as I met your request, so graciously might I add," Jareth leered down at the ugly little creature, eyes shining with a devious malice, and Hoggle gulped, backing up in a effort of self preservation, "You will, of course, be kind enough to return the favor." The dwarf squinted up at the taller man, a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, whenever Jareth wanted a favor, nothing good ever came out of it. Damn trouble making Fae.

"Depends," Hoggle grunted. Jareth straightened, crossing his arms, and one gloved hand danced in agitation, his expression condescending and agitated.

"I think there is a chance for you to be royalty yet, Hogmead," He uttered snidely, "Prince of the Bog has such a lovely ring, does it not?" Hoggle blanched, recognizing the threat for what it was, an ultimatum. "For you see, I will grace you with that title, should you deviate only the slightest from my designs." He pressed his fingers together to show how very little Hoggle would be given leeway, a fearsome expression on his face. Hoggle bobbed his large head, showing he understood perfectly, and in return his king smiled, a sharp toothy smile.

"Very good," he praised in mock approval, "You have the uncanny ability to win fair Sarah's ear, and I shall impose on that friendship, this one last time." Hoggle didn't like the way Jareth said 'one last time', as if there was some finality in what he would request, something awful. "You will ask her to visit you here, Underground, simply slip this through the glass," Jareth produced a lovely trinket with a flourish, transforming one of his crystals into it with a wave of his leather clad palm, "Have her put it on, and she will be free to travel back and forth, whenever she so desires." His toothy smirk insinuated there was a catch to this so called gift, and Hoggle frowned, his brow creasing in worry. He'd never forgiven himself for giving Sarah that peach, had hated himself the moment she'd fallen, sure that Jareth had lied, and he'd killed the only person he'd been able to call friend. The image still haunted him sometimes.

"Will it hurt her?" he demanded, an uncanny parallel to the last time a gift had exchanged between them. The Goblin King snorted, looking mildly affronted.

"Never fret, Hogbrain, it is just as I've said and nothing more, simply a means to an end," satisfied that he'd explained all he needed to, especially to one of his subjects who he should never have to explain _anything_ to, he held out the glittering charm. Hoggle eyed it, debating. It was beautiful, shiny, every natural urge in him demanded he snatch it up, but he feared for Lady Sarah.

"Yer up ta yer tricks again," he muttered mulishly. Jareth scowled impressively, causing the smaller creature to flinch in fear.

"Take it," he ordered imperiously, "give her my gift, I will know if you fail me on this, and I will be certain to gift _you_ a crown, should you dare defy me." He eyed the dwarf icily before vanishing, leaving the necklace in the stubby fingers of an apprehensive Hoggle.

"Don't like it," he muttered, "not at all, best get Didymus; he'll know how to explain this to Sarah."

"Pretty," Sarah breathed. She eyed her friends in the mirror with a wide, jubilant expression, eyes shiny with wonder at the silver necklace twirled in her dainty fingers, the emerald stone catching the light and casting it into a splendor of color. The same color of her eyes. She fondled the thick chain, the ringlets heavy and chunky, caressing them down to the star pendant, the emerald stone cut into a perfect kite shape. It managed to be simultaneously unique and elegant, delicate looking despite the size of the chain links.

"Pretty she says," Hoggle harrumphed, he'd been in a foul mood since he and Sir Didymus appeared, surprising her by popping into her mirror after she'd finished making herself dinner downstairs. Sir Didymus, ever plucky and energetic, nodded at her appraisal.

"It is as fair as the Lady herself," he proclaimed, "but beware, Lady Sarah, this is no ordinary gift, it comes from-" Hoggle jabbed the overeager dog with his elbow, and he riled predictable. "How uncouth! Do not presume to manhandle me so!" Hoggle rolled his large blue eyes, snorting.

"Tis a way to Underground Sarah," Hoggle informed her, uneasy, because she had yet to take her eyes off it, as memorized with this trinket as she'd been with the peach. It unsettled him something awful to see her reaction, but he knew that if that rat Jareth had wanted her to know who it was from, he'd have given it to her himself. Hoggle wasn't a bad person, just self preserving, and he very much did not want to be Prince of the Bog of Eternal Stench. Besides, Sarah could come visit them all, what harm was there in that?

"Really, a way to Underground?" Her eyes sparkled, "You mean, I could come see you, in person? Right now?" She was obviously eager to do so. Hoggle looked away bashfully but Sir Didymus nodded in blatant enthusiasm, his loyal steed adding his own bark of approval. Without hesitance she began to slip it over her neck, unaware that Hoggle winced as she did so. Instantly, a cool wind ripped at her, and she felt icy all over, a whirl of blackness and glitter encasing her. The emptiness stretched on endlessly, cold and bleak.

"HOGGLE!" She wailed into the nothingness, and before she knew it she was falling, shattering and floating. When she opened her eyes she was in a grassy field, Hoggle and Didymus right in front of her, the orange sky betraying her location, after five years, she'd finally returned to the Labyrinth. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, as a wave of sentimental yearning washed over her.

"Oh guys!" she wrapped them both into a hug, laughing, giddy with her elation. She could really come and go through Underground? How marvelous, it was beyond anything she'd ever dreamed of! It was quite possibly, the best gift she'd ever received. After a semi-bone crushing embrace, she released them both, petting Ambrose on the head when he barked and whined for his own greeting.

"Oh Lady Sarah, it is truly splendid to see you here once more!" Sir Didymus exclaimed, taking off his red cap and bowing in greeting. She giggled, delighted. Hoggle still looked like he was pouting, his arms crossed, his gaze dark and troubled. Sarah worried her lip self consciously.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" She asked, bewildered by his reaction. His eyes widened, as if just noticing her, and he glanced away shyly.

"Course I am, why wouldn't I be?" He asked gruffly. She put it down to his usual nature, he could be standoffish at times, but she knew beyond a doubt that he cared for her. Impulsively, Sarah twirled around with her arms spread wide, inhaling the long forgotten scent of Underground, fresh and alive, spicy and full of mystery, no smell came close to its pungent aroma Aboveground, like the woods at midnight and the taste of sunshine on a summer day all combined into one heady fragrance. She'd forgotten it, over the years, but instantly remembered the unique flavor when privileged to it again.

She stopped short, her spinning halting abruptly as she heard three consecutive, sharp, derisive claps. Spinning, feeling an icy tendril of dread creeping up on her, she looked into the eyes of none other than the Goblin King himself. He'd been clapping, but at her regard of him he stopped, instead gracing her with a feral leer. She gasped, taking him in, drinking in the appearance of her nemesis, tyrant, and mentor all in one. While he'd been decidedly wicked to her on her last visit, even she could admit Jareth had taught her a thing or two about how the world worked. He was as glorious as she recalled, and as pompous, dressed to the ninth, tight black leather pants, slate grey boots hugging his muscular thighs up to the knees, and a matching grey silk shirt, opened at the chest to show his glitter kissed skin and the large ornate gold necklace he wore. He also, she thought, looked inordinately pleased with himself.

Without realizing it, her hand protectively went to the necklace she wore, hiding it in her palm. His eyes traced the movement, missing nothing, and he smirked. The expression was fleeting, soon masked by his usual indifferent sneer, but inwardly he allowed himself a small amount of pleasure, eyeing the object of his obsession with covetous need. She was still a beauty, the years had passed in his Sarah's favor, adding a more adult curve to her cheeks and chin, a more pronounced tilt to her cat like eyes, and her breasts had filled in nicely, shapely mounds that pressed at the thin cotton garment she wore, her 'jeans' as they called them Aboveground, hugged her every curve and dip, revealing far more than a ankle length dress would've. How had he denied himself this for so very long? He ached to throw her down, here and now, and claim what she so selfishly would promise another man. At that thought his musings turned decidedly brutal, his expression a glower of promised wrath, he would steal her from her human mate, one way or another, the was no question of it in his mind.

"Sarah precious," he drawled, savoring the taste of her name, "What brings you to my kingdom," a brief pause, like that of a heartbeat, "uninvited, no less?" She paled, glancing back at her friends for strength, noting even the slightest changes in his demeanor, as she couldn't help but focus on him and him alone when he was around. His presence was that demanding, consuming. It seemed like the Goblin King was very much upset with her, and she didn't know why.

"I-I," she stole herself against faltering around him, she'd been able to face him almost impudently as a child, she could very well face him now. "I didn't know I needed an invitation." She dropped her hand from her chest, having just realized she was caressing the charm Hoggle had given her, and not wanting to draw Jareth's eyes to it.

"Hmm, of course you didn't, how easy it is for you to assume," he sighed, appearing put out and aggrieved by her rudeness, "that you could impose on my hospitality at your whim." He stared down at her, his eyes, one as clear as a brook in spring, the other a soft brown, peered into her with an intensity that stole her protests from her lips. Damn the man's natural magnetism. She'd forgotten how strong it was. The glower on his inhuman features sucked the fight from her.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, breaking eye contact and studying the grass as if it was suddenly fascinating. He made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat, tapping a thin black riding crop thoughtfully against one muscled thigh.

"Naturally," he said, adding a note of derision to his tone. "But tell me," he used the tip of his crop to press her chin upward, forcing her to meet his stunning gaze, "do you think a mere apology will suffice?"

"Well," she glanced away, why was it so hard to formulate a response while looking at him? The man was so gorgeous it should be a crime, especially since his personality was anything but. "I hoped it would be okay, I just came to visit…" She risked meeting his eyes, "Are you mad?" Jareth's eyes twinkled, his expression unreadable. So much of him was a mystery; he was a walking talking enigma.

"It depends, my sweet," he crooned wickedly, loving the way it brought color into her cheeks, his crop caressed her cheek, memorizing the rosy tint, she startled at the contact, but didn't pull away immediately, "were you planning to pay me a visit as well?" Her eyes dropped to the side, betraying her thoughts, no, she hadn't been. Since she wasn't looking, she missed the icy rage that briefly flashed across his face.

"Wrong answer precious," he toned gravely, and her head snapped up, her green eyes wary, "How rude to visit my home and presume to not pay me what is mine to have. For this, I think I shall be forced to punish you." He let the threat linger, relishing the way fear filled her eyes. So beautiful, when afraid or angry, happy or sad, she enthralled him, her every expression was so filled with sincere emotion, unlike his, which were schooled to be part of his ploys and tricks.

"Punish me?" She repeated blankly, her eyes flickered to her friends, who were watching this exchange with avid, yet wary, interest. Hoggle looked positively menacing, and had Jareth bothered to eye his subject he would've been most displeased to see the ugly little wart giving him such a hateful look. As it was, Jareth was far too preoccupied teasing Sarah to notice anything else.

"It is only, how did you put it last time? Ah yes… fair," he eyed her, even though she'd grown he still loomed over her; she was so tiny, so fragile in his eyes, and ever so more desirable because of it. "For being rude, and presumptuous, and calling upon lesser beings while shunning me," he rattled off her offenses matter-of-factly, "you, Sarah Williams, shall receive no less than five lashes." He smirked down at her, watching true horror wash her face of color. _Fear me, love me, do as I say…_ She'd learn soon enough.

"L-lashes?" Sarah knew she was stupidly repeating him, but she couldn't help it. She felt sick, overwhelmed, _lashes_; she could only imagine how painful they'd be…. Sensing her distress, the king graced her with a chilling look.

"Lashes? But sire! She's a lady!" Sir Didymus bravely piped up, disbelief in his high pitched voice. Ambrose barked his agreement, lashes were not given lightly, and never to women. Jareth graced the guardian of his bridge with a cold, threatening glower.

"I am very well aware of her gender," Jareth gave Sarah a wolfish smile, and the twenty year old trembled, "I shall dole them out at thirteen o'clock precisely, you may have your two hours to visit with your friends, and if you are wise, thinking of ways to avoid angering me in the future." Not meaning to, his eyes glared at the small gold band on her left ring finger before coolly meeting her panicked stare. "Until then," he bowed, vanishing in a spray of glitter.

"Filthy rat," Hoggle growled, "He's no good, Sarah, you better leave, go back home now, we'll handle his nastiness' tantrum for you being gone."

"Verily, my lady, I would suffer un foretold misfortune to save you from such a barbaric fate," Sir Didymus agreed. Sarah was still frozen in shock, but snapped out of at when they started naming the things they would go through to keep her from Jareth's plots. She knew for certain that there was no way she was letting them take the rap for her.

"Thanks, but no thanks," she told them both, "I bet he'd just go Aboveground and drag me back anyway, and then you'd both be in trouble for no good reason. He's up to something, and I intend to find out what." She frowned, tilting her head, a nagging suspicion needed to be voice aloud, "I'm pretty sure he set this up." So concentrated on trying to think of what the Goblin King could possible want from her, she missed the guilty expression on the dwarf's face, as Hoggle inwardly cursed himself. If only he wasn't such a coward. He feared both angering Jareth and disappointing Sarah.

A little while later found them all in Hoggle's humble abode, a delightful cave that they had gotten to by lifting up a square of grass and climbing down a rickety wooden ladder. Sarah had marveled at it, having forgotten how insanely designed everything was in this place, it was so odd it was enchanting. Like living in a fairy tale, something she'd always dreamed of. Hoggle's home had dirt walls, thick and muddy, but not unclean, his floors were wood, scuffed and aged but still stable, giving it a very earthy appearance. He'd set up rugs on most of the entrances, hung paintings on the walls, everything he could to make it more appealing to the eye. He'd made the table they sat at himself, and while it was a bit short for Sarah, noting their heights she could easily guess why it'd been made as it was. It even had a lace doily on it, sporting a clay vase of fresh wildflowers.

In some ways it was everything she'd expected, and in others nothing like she would've guessed. A large fireplace took up the far left corner, and next to it was a line of sturdy wooden counters with shelves beneath, their handles carved wood as well. It seemed the dwarf was apt at carpentry, but when she'd complimented him he'd merely 'harrumphed' and said he preferred mining. Afterwards he'd busied himself about the small kitchen area, making tea as Didymus regaled her with stories of the mermaids in the lakes she hadn't seen on her last journey, and the mischief the goblins had been causing around the bridge he guarded. The tea pot whistled just as he finished a rather amusing story about the Fiery creatures she'd encountered before, and how one of them had accidentally kicked his own head onto the bridge, and had spent days trying to figure out how to get Didymus to let his body pass through to retrieve it.

Sarah sipped politely from the chipped china cup she was handed, smiling as the taste of lemon and raspberry hit her tongue, sweet and tangy. "This is very good," she told Hoggle, smiling fondly. He nodded gruffly, pouring himself and the knight their own cups. She noticed with a smile that none of them matched, hers was a chipped white cup with blue print, Hoggle's red and brown swirls with a yellow handle, and Didymus' was white with a light lavender flower print circling the rim. It was charming.

"Excellent tea good fellow," Didymus proclaimed, offering a small sample to Ambrose, who lay beside him on the floor. The shaggy sheep dog lapped the spilled drops with vigor.

"I wish ya'd let us deal with Jareth, Sarah," Hoggle said finally, after a bout of companionable silence. If that rat hurt Sarah because of a gift he'd made Hoggle give her, the dwarf would never forgive him. She shook her head, her brown hair swaying as she did so.

"I can handle the Goblin King," she pronounced bravely.

"You are so courageous, Lady," Didymus complemented, "I have seen full men tremble beneath his displeasure."

"He is scary, isn't he?" she mused. Her two friends nodded their agreement. "I thought I saw him today, earlier, before I called on you the first time Hoggle." She flushed, recalling in what state she'd thought she'd glimpse the king. Still, she felt the need to confide in someone, and who better than the people with her, her most trusted friends?

"Oh?" Hoggle grunted, feeling worse and worse by the minute. Sarah sipped her tea thoughtfully.

"It might've just been a weird trick of the light, but I swore I saw him in my bedroom," she sighed, "I suppose it doesn't really matter."

"Nonsense, my lady, every word you speak matters," Didymus told her loyally. "If you say you glimpsed him, I dare anyone to say it untrue!" She giggled, admiring his spunk.

"Well, I wish I could stop seeing him," Hoggle muttered unkindly, "he's an eye sore." Sarah laughed, it was so good to see them again, in person, to just sit and chat. Maybe if she took this punishment of Jareth's, she could convince him to let her come here every once and a while. With his permission, of course, because she didn't want a lashing every time she dropped by. Heck, she didn't want one period, but it's not like he'd _asked_. Insufferable sadist.

They talked for a while more, and because she was having such a good time, it seemed to pass too quickly, and with more and more anxiety she eyed the clock above Hoggle's cabinets, finally sighing as it sounded the chimes, thirteen of them, and steeling herself to be brave, and determined. It was easier said than done. The Goblin King appeared shortly after the thirteenth chime, his lip curling as he eyed the surroundings, and then curving into a feral smirk as he eyed his prey, the elusive Sarah. With one gloved hand, and not so much as a 'hello' he beckoned for her to rise and accompany him. Slowly, apprehensively, she hugged her friends goodbye promising to contact them when she got home, and then stood to meet her less than desirable fate.

"Are we done stalling, precious?" He demanded archly, raising one elegant eyebrow in question. She nodded glumly, giving her friends one last reassuring glance before she fitted her slender hand into his gloved palm. A wicked expression stole over his features right before they vanished, reappearing in the cold stone floors of his throne room. The festive atmosphere from his party was gone, and it was once again a barren room of grey stone slabs, with hay and chickens, not to mention a slew of goblins, all creating a noisy ruckus. When the little creatures noticed their king had returned they grew quiet, eyeing Sarah with knowing, anticipatory eyes. She shivered, pulling away from the Goblin King's grasp and hugging her arms to herself.

Green eyes widened fearfully at the sight of a taller goblin, dressed in full armor, standing next to the throne Jareth so gracefully sauntered towards. He lounged across the bone structure regally, sprawling, his chin in one gloved hand as he eyed her. Sarah waited, feeling a cold sweat trickle down her neck. The goblin closest to Jareth, the one wearing armor, had a long whip in one hand, a thick black cord that coiled like a snake, and looked _very_ menacing. She tried not to focus on it, but it was hard not to. Five lashes had seemed like a small number, until she saw the instrument that would doll them out.

"Sarah Williams," his melodious voice drawled indifferently, although he was anything but, "You have forgotten to pay proper homage to a King when visiting his territory. How do you plead?" Sarah shivered at the formality of his tone, it made the situation that much more real, she hadn't realized she'd have to hear her supposed 'crimes' again. It was all very ominous.

"G-guilty," she stammered, clenching her hands and holding her head high. She wouldn't let him see how very afraid she was, he'd probably just get a kick out of it.

"The sentence I have bestowed for this grievance is five lashes, do you accept this punishment?" He demanded frigidly, his eyes piercing her as if he was looking through her. His left hand idly twirled a glass bauble, it spun in dizzying arrays.

"Do I have a choice?" she muttered sullenly. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and she swallowed.

"'Yes, your majesty,' will suffice," he snapped.

"Yes, your majesty," she toned, trying to keep the tremble from her voice. Was it cold in here, or was it just her? A drunken goblin stumbled against her legs and she jumped, stifling a girly yelp, Sarah was thoroughly spooked by all the tension in the air. That and the greedy anticipation shining in each goblin's eyes. The Goblin King sighed in an effort to hide the smile trying to press at his lips.

"I have an offer for you Sarah," he mentioned, feigning boredom, "since you did not know of this custom, I am in a frame of mind to be lenient, generous if you will." His grin was cutting, wolfish, "You may chose who carries out this sentence." He waited, letting this sink in, and she nodded to show she was following the conversation. "You may suffer five lashes from Grabble here, with his whip," he toned, indicating the goblin beside him, "Or five from myself, with my crop," he let his words linger a brief moment, "The choice is yours," he added with a light smile before his expression slid into a menacing cast, a icy glint in his eyes that sparked a single silent warning, "so chose wisely."

Sarah pondered the offer, but sadly, she already knew whom she'd chose, that whip looked far more painful than the tiny black crop in the Goblin King's hand. Only, maybe Jareth had known this, and was planning on being particularly cruel with his instrument. Or maybe, her brain supplied dryly, the sadist just wants to be the one to do it. Either way, when Grabble began chuckling to himself and petting the whip, her mind was made up.

"Have you decided?" He demanded with ire, his patience was always thin at best. Sarah nodded, clasping her hands in front of her, a light tint staining her cheeks. His eyes glittered, he could guess from her reaction what decision she'd made, but he needed to hear her say it. This wasn't, of course, a punishment for not being invited to his realm, although he thought himself clever for thinking of it, this was what she deserved for rejecting him five years prior. Five lashes, one for each year she'd put it off. He felt no need to enlighten her, however, as to the true reason, not yet anyway. All things in good time, so to speak.

"Yes," she hung her head, too shy to meet his eyes, "I'll take my lashes from you." Gosh, she really had to swallow her pride to say that. Glancing up, afraid of what she'd see in his face, she noted no triumph, no gloating, no satisfaction in his beautiful features, in fact, he looked perfectly unmoved. Figures.

"Well then, precious, do not make me come to you, it is not my place to do so," he sat up, tapping his crop against the chair, smirking as she flinched at the sound, one hand out stretched, beckoning sinfully, "Come." Slowly, like a man on death row, Sarah Williams strode up to the Goblin King's throne, her heart hammering in her throat.

Up close, he was so much prettier, with his delicate cheekbones high and regal; his full sensuous mouth with lips covered in a light glossy sheen, his skin was glitter kissed, his eyes two pools that she could get lost in if she dared to meet them for too long. He drew her in, even though she knew it was wrong, even though she was well aware she was no match for him, no matter the claims she'd made at fifteen, she was entranced by his beauty. He watched her studying him for a moment, and then gripped her wrist, tugging her across his lap with little ado. She was warm, and soft, and squirmed delightfully in her surprise, he was tempted to simply hold her there forever, but he had a duty to perform, a lesson to teach. None defied him, no matter how slightly, and were free of consequences.

Sarah tried not to notice how good he smelled, like morning dew and spices, something woodsy thrown in, a heady fragrance that distracted her for a moment so greatly that she almost forgot _why_ she was in his lap. Her nose on one thigh, her butt slung over the bone arm on the other side, and then, to her utter mortification, his buttery soft fingers slid under her waist band and harshly yanked the jeans past her rounded bottom.

"Hey!" She protested, trying to straighten herself, his riding crop lightly thwacked her arms in reprimand, and he deftly pinned them to her side. She had the impression he'd done this before.

"Ah, ah, beauty, you agreed, remember," his eyes studied her pert little bottom, glad she couldn't see the lust flaring in his eyes. His hand curved one cheek, touching, feeling, and she bucked, irate at his forwardness. He tsked at her, disappointed, "Are we in such a rush, precious?" He enquired wryly, "Well then, let me not put down your expectations, as I am quite incapable of it."

"Y-you," she sputtered, and then yelped as a sharp sting connected to one of her bared cheeks. "Ow!"

"No, no, this will not do," he told her sternly, "you must count." He sighed, "We will begin at one." Another sharp sting, and she flinched. That _hurt_. It also tingled. She was glad he couldn't see her face; she was betting it was stop sign red.

"O-one," she counted, beyond humiliated. He grinned ferally in approval, but she couldn't see it from her vantage point. His gloved fingers soothed the sting he'd caused, and she blushed furiously at the contact, why was he being nice about this? Nice? Had she really just thought that about him?

Another sharp sting, "Damn! I mean, two…" she corrected herself quickly. He chuckled; she could feel it vibrating in his strong muscular chest. The third and fourth came one after another, with no pause between.

"Three, four," she counted dutifully. By this time her bottom smarted, she hoped he wasn't leaving marks. He delivered the last the most swiftly, and it cracked her skin hard, almost splitting the tender flesh.

"FUCK! Five, I meant to say five," she panted.

A dark, utterly wicked voice whispered into her ear, "We could always continue this, precious, away from prying eyes." He'd not missed how she squirmed, in fact, his senses were keen enough he could smell her excitement, and it was driving him mad. His Sarah liked a little spanking, did she?

"Hell no," she denied venomously. He chuckled, a sinister yet decadent sound, and allowed her to rise, his expression stony in an attempt to hide his raging desire. Fickle girl, didn't she see what she did to him? How she tried his every nerve? Five lashes was far too little, upon contemplation, he should've made it ten, perhaps twenty, for what she did to him. Unfortunately, he knew that while such a thing was common place between Fae and their lovers, his naïve Sarah would not see it as such. She simply viewed him as a King, dolling out a reprieve. He would have to change her view on it, now that he was aware how well she took to it.

"Umm…" Sarah waited until he looked at her. He was slightly shocked she didn't run from him, demand he take her home, and waited curiously as she twisted her hands, vying for his attention. _What attentions I could give you_, her purred to himself; _if only you'd allow it, precious_. "Can I, that is, would it be okay if I came back and visited your kingdom?"

His eyes lit up, this was easier than he'd anticipated, "I suppose that depends," he told her solemnly, "on how often, and with whom, you'd be visiting." Her eyes widened, and he knew she was recalling their earlier conversation. He glanced at the metal ringlet on her finger, reminding himself to stay focused, he would win her, seduce her, claim her, but it would take time, especially since she belonged, no, he corrected himself swiftly, she _believed_ she belonged to another.

"I would stop here, first, if I need to," she said carefully, weighing her words. He admired that age had curbed her impulsive nature, made her think her thoughts through before speaking. She hadn't always been so.

"I should say I have made that clear," he uttered derisively, "Don't you agree?" She nodded, her hands self consciously rubbing her sore bottom. He smirked.

"Could I also see my friends?" She continued, hopeful. He pretending to think about it, but he'd already planned this far into their game, and knew his move.

"You may see your friends first, at any time you wish, I shall know when you trespass here, make no mistake," he warned, "but to avoid this reoccurrence you must simply call upon me each and every time you 'visit', as you so aptly call it." He drummed his fingers on his throne, seeming to have dismissed her.

"Uh, your majesty?" she questioned, sounding timid. He should spank her more often; her temperament seemed to be better for it. He arched an eyebrow questioningly. "How do I call upon you? I mean, getting to the castle is sort of, time consuming." He nodded; of course, he'd almost forgotten that she would not know how to properly call him. Well, he wouldn't tell her the proper way anyway, he'd tell her the way he wanted _her_ to call upon him.

"Simply speak my name," he informed her, "I will hear you, and if it is not an inconvenience, I will graciously grant you an audience." His eyes flashed, "Keep in mind Sarah, as King I am kept well occupied, so while you must _always_ call for me, at times I will be too entangled in other matters to answer, and you may take that as my dismissal." She nodded, thinking to herself that he was really too arrogant for words to describe, nerve gratingly condescending as well. He graced her with another unsettling look, "Very well, we have an accord, you are dismissed."

With a snap of his fingers she vanished.

He sighed, a few more minutes in her company and he would've lost control, he wanted to pull her arms, crash his mouth to hers, and pet and stroke her until she agreed to coming to his bed. She would resist at first, but he could easily make her accept him. This, however, was unacceptable simply because she had already rejected him once, he would not be satisfied by simply tasting her body, he wanted _her_, period. End of story. She would _beg_ him to take her, and he would, keeping her here with him as a toy, a lover, someone to pass the years with, although hers would be substantially shorter than his, he would enjoy the meager decades of entertainment she would provide.

Unfortunately, his plan involved patience, and how he _loathed_ waiting. Still, in the end, he comforted himself, it would all be well worth it.

Evelain was sorely tempted to hurl the delicate glass cup at her 'guests' face, and watch that ivory pale portrait become drenched and distorted in scorching hot tea, the scene would be amusing, however, the consequences would _not_ be. It was a sad fate to know others thoughts, she mused to herself, although through the decades the statement had lost the weight of resentment and self pity, it still held true. The Fae were schooled at watching their impeccable mannerisms and fine tuning their elegant speeches to be polite and absolutely perfect charades, but their thoughts did not garner the same careful censorship, ugly hateful words were spat in their puny brains, completely ruining the beauty of their façades. Lucky for them, Evelain was one of the few who could read these little deviations from their posturing, so for the most part, their response was to simply avoid the Faerie King's eldest daughter to avoid being well and truly discovered for what they were, Maya was not so wise.

Oh, she was lovely enough on the outside, baring the strange coloring of both her parents meshed into a face that was more unique than truly beautiful. Amethyst eyes, full round stones in a sharp map of ivory were thickly lashed perfectly aligned with her tiny nose that rested above lips that shown like pale onyx, her pin straight hair fell in a waterfall of glittering crimson down her shoulders and back. Small, multihued pixies fawned over her as she lounged on the day bed, their triple jointed fingers reverently brushing her hair, straightening the silken folds of her far too ostentatious gown, and petting her pale skin. Like their mistress, their eyes, large onyx bulbs, were sharp and cruel, betraying the falseness of their dainty exteriors, yet still they pretended to fawn over her, from her jewel like slippers to the cascading gown of silver and gold. Everyone knew dressing grander than your host was rude, but Evelain had shortly learned that Maya herself was just another synonym for the definition of rude. She may have all the airs of polite society, but there was a wicked snake beneath that fair profile, Evelain had been privileged to its maddening hissing and spitting all day.

"It was such a shame that your dear brother called his festivities short," Maya pouted, lightly caressing the cheek of a rose colored pixie, who cooed at the attention. "I was so hoping to be properly introduced," a small, feminine sigh of dissatisfaction, "he can be so very…. reserved, can't he?" Her lavender eyes glimmered with greed, she'd been digging her nails into Evelain all day, trying to discover more about Jareth.

When your elder brother was crowned heir of all Faerie, you got used to slithering female snakes under foot trying to sink their fangs into your kin, poor Jareth, if not for her, he would've seen a grand slew of Maya's type banging down his doors. If there was one thing her brother loved more than a good game, it was his solitude. Evelain was a constant aide to her two siblings, both Ferric and Jareth demanded her hand in these matters, and she was always happy to help squash a nasty snake or two. This Maya, however, was trouble. Her father was Master of Summer, and her mother Keeper of Twilight, with two such powerful parents, Evelain would have to insult and dissuade this wretch carefully, lest she offend by association. Politics, she hated them, but her abilities made her more than capable at them.

"Not that I can blame him, it must be very taxing to rule such _vast_ lands. Not to mention those," her nose crinkled, "little creatures, gremlins or such, correct? Oh, my, no it's goblins, I remember now, Ferric has the gremlins, my, how time passes…." Evelain could clearly hear the idiot woman's plans to convince Jareth (the fool felt she was actually charming enough to do so) to move from his kingdom to hers, where she would rule everything in complete comfort, and have the King of all Faerie eating from her palm. Evelain was certain Jareth would snap her neck if he heard such an outlandish claim, he, like his father, didn't suffer fools lightly. The last woman who'd thought to ensnare his heart falsely so that she could rule his lands had been banished to an oubliette and remained there still as far as Evelain knew. Her father, the king, had begged her interference after this first response from his heir, pointing out wisely that he would not abide half the females in Faerie wasting away in oubliettes, which would undoubtedly be the outcome should any female chose to approach Jareth with the intent of unmanning him.

Still, the simpering woman continued to ramble mindlessly, as Maya had an uncanny ability to carry on a conversation completely by herself, no matter how dull. Evelain hid her eye roll by turning to her trusted friend, whom she'd insisted join her for tea (distract her from this mouthy fool is more the truth), a powerful lynx by the name of Ardor. His yellow eyes glittered like topaz stones in the thick mid afternoon sunlight, and a very cat like grin twitched at his mouth. He always knew when his mistress was close to throttling one of these 'suitors'.

_Her mind is weak, yet that mouth is strong, perhaps you would have me wear it out on more interesting matters than this useless babble, I do so yearn for some sport…_ Ardor, a silver pelted half lynx, eyed his mistress with a hopeful gaze; he out of all her subjects was most apt at sharing thoughts and hiding them when he pleased. Evelain hid her chuckle behind a cough, knowing Maya would be revolted by the idea of having to pleasure such a 'lower' creature, but well aware that Ardor would be able to force the hellish wench whether she wanted it or not, he could infect lust with a simple caress. It was, to say the least, sorely tempting to knock this vain woman down a peg. Evelain sighed wistfully.

"Behave," she instructed in a whisper. He leaned his head back, his silver fur glinted in the sun, and his cat eyes slitting comfortably. Still, his ears remained back, two thickly furred triangles, one baring a glittering gold bangle that danced from the lobe, an expression that meant that he was agitated but knew better than to vocalize it.

"Is Ferric here?" Maya questioned, trying her best to sound disinterested. Evelain could hear her power hungry thoughts, so the effort was a wasted one, but the ruler of the Pixies, like her subjects, seemed a little daft and quite intent on tricking and cheating her way to better standing. It was so dreary, and so very unoriginal. The meddling twat better _pray_ Ferric was elsewhere.

"Did someone call?" Ferric _loved_ being the third born, for three reasons. Firstly, he was the youngest and favorite of his father and as such was basically was allowed to do as he pleased, when he pleased, secondly, he was also the son of Pandora, and bore her love of chaos, of which his presence always created, and thirdly, it meant he could dote on his beautiful half sister without having to follow the decorum both Evelain and Jareth were bound to. You see, he was half Fae and half demon, which accounted for him being _all_ trouble. A few centuries ago he would've been seen as an abomination, these days he was seen as a Prince, the royal blood seemed to show up less and less in the royal offspring, for no one with two matching eyes was considered truly royal, a tradition so steeped in their history none could quite say why or how it started. His eyes were most peculiar, one the color of black lava rock, the other the color of rubies.

"Ah, Maya, such a treat," he kissed her hand, his mouth twitching in a smirk as she shrank back. Ah yes, Maya wanted power, Evelain could see that, but she also felt the idiot woman's fear of the half demon, no wonder she'd set her sights on Jareth. Unlucky enough for her, both Ferric and herself were _very_ protective of their sibling, and she'd just bitten off more than she could chew, nothing got Ferric's blood boiling like seeing a ruling Faerie's fear of him. Fear, to demons, was the ultimate treat; they loved to feast upon it much like the Fae did with pleasure.

"Prince Ferric," she batted her eyelashes, all pretence of fawning readily apparent now that he was no longer touching her skin. Like Jareth, Ferric's teeth were sharp, like needles, but larger and more canine looking, and he gave her a full unsettling sort of grin that caused her purple eyes to widen a telling fraction. He did love to dress in all black, like the demon's custom, and it set his ash colored skin and mismatched eyes into a striking clarity.

"Lady Maya, how goes the hunting?" Ferric was the epitome of faux pause, everything a noble Faerie would die before pointing out in polite society, he made a habit of saying right away. "I hear my brother is being as elusive as ever," he slung himself down on the small daybed, scattering the pixies who looked as completely unsettled as their mistress. Evelain hid a chuckle behind her gloved hand, meeting eyes with Ardor in amusement, the lynx was sitting up now, he loved watching Ferric toy with unsuspecting women.

"Hunting?" Maya responded blankly, "I don't know what you mean." Evelain's gown, today a mass of butter yellow sun flowers began to blossom and fade as she tried to keep from doing something so rude as to snicker at the Pixie Queen.

Ferric slung his chunky metal studded Aboveground boots onto the wooden table, shaking the dainty tea platter that resided there, "I'll put it even more plainly, then, shall I?" He leered at a lingering Pixie as he spoke, and it promptly hid behind the satin love seat, trembling. "You're here, I assume, to gain permission to court Jareth."

"I would never, I mean, to be so forward, I couldn't…" she stuttered hurriedly, a flush stained her cheeks at being so callously found out. Evelain would've snorted her mirth if it'd been permissible; instead she merely arched her eyebrow at her guest. Ferric was cruel to do this, but Evelain was exhausted of playing host to this spoiled brat. She'd watched this scene play out many times, and wondered disinterestedly if Ferric was going to bed Maya, or simply shame her. Judging by his hostile thoughts, it was likely the latter.

"Ah, don't be coy," he thumbed her nose, touching without permission was beyond rude, but Ferric did so love to break the rules. Maya flinched. "Now, let's be frank with one another," he stapled his fingers, his eyes slitting in calculation, "do you wish to merely warm my beloved brother's bed or do you seek to also share his crown?" Evelain yawned, resting her head on Ardor's shoulder, his fur was soft and warm, like silk sheets in sunshine. He purred at the contact.

"I-I-I…" she was blushing furiously, and Evelain could hear her thoughts whirring, trying to find a way to flatter Ferric into relenting. Good luck, Evelain wanted to tell her, she'd known her half brother her whole life, and _no one_ could control him, least of all the simple minded Pixie Queen. She was far too used to relying on her parent's titles to be clever in any sense of the word, and all her ideas on how to dissuade Ferric, Evelain knew, would only incite him to be crueler.

"Never mind," he waved his hand dismissively, "We'll get back to that. Now, would you, for example, have an interlude with my fair sister to gain an audience with my brother?" Her jaw gaped open, her lavender eyes wide with shock, "No, then, how disappointing." He leaned back, stapling his fingers behind his head, one of his favorite games was 'what would you do to earn a night with Jareth?', when Evelain asked how he discovered it, he mentioned some Aboveground treat named 'Klondike' that confused her into never asking again. Sad to say, the only one who won this game was Ferric, everything he demanded they do was purposely obscene to the point of being offensive.

"Would you perhaps, gift a pixie to me? I hear they make delicious snacks," he chuckled as her color drained, "Another no, how sad. Well, how about allowing Ardor," he smiled politely at the lynx, "to train you in the ways of pleasure?" Her horrified gasp was answer enough, Ferric was beyond amused, he was unashamedly enjoying every moment of her torment and discomfort. "Now, now, Maya, you are being quite picky, perhaps you won't suite Jareth at all." He tsked. Evelain hid her face by nuzzling Ardor's shoulder, just to keep from outright giggling. "You know, he has a habit of sharing his bedmates with his goblins, don't you?" Maya most certainly had not, and Evelain winced at what Jareth would have to say about this new rumor of Ferric's, he would be enraged to say the least. The boy had more humor than common sense.

"I could have a gremlin demonstrate if you care to practice?" Ferric offered amiably, he was carrying the whole of this conversation in the most innocent and respectful tone, while insinuating some of the most awful things Evelain had heard him conjure to date. Maya stood, finally, her whole face reddened in hurt, embarrassment, and shame.

"You, Ferric, are an uncouth brute!" She shrieked, her pixies swarming her in a dizzying rainbow, "I will tell your father of this!"

"Delightful," Ferric commented with a grin to her retreating figure, "Could you make sure to remember the part about the goblins? That'll be sure to amuse him." He sing-songed just before the door slammed. He turned his red and black eyes to his sister, "She was rather uninspiring, wasn't she?"

"Father will have your tongue," Evelain warned, "If Jareth doesn't first." Ferric laughed, throwing his head back, a dark sound of velvet and fire.

"Yes, but sweet sister, _you_ are my favorite," he replied simply, "and she was driving you into a positively foul mood, I've never seen you so short tempered." Evelain stroked Ardor's absently, smiling at her half siblings praise. He was always so impulsive. He straightened out his lithe frame, standing and holding out on ash hued hand in a gentlemanlike manner towards his sister, a devilish gleam in his eye, "Shall we walk around the gardens? I want to hear how dear Jareth's party went," he smirked to himself coyly, "and of course, how he accepted your news."

Evelain smiled softly to herself, taking his leather clad palm in her own as they moved to take their leave, "Ah yes, I'd almost forgotten what with that…" She waved her hand, searching for a proper descriptive for the Queen of Pixies.

"Shrew," Ferric supplied dryly, "Or perhaps wench is more apt. In any case, continue." He gestured for her to finish relaying news of their brother almost impatiently.

"Yes well, you always did have a way with words," she admitted wryly, "In any case, I have shown him his mortal." Her mismatched eyes glimmered with knowing, "and he was very…distraught, to say the least." Ferric threw back his head, laughing merrily, the sound boomed down the large halls, echoing and bouncing from every crevice.

"What good sport, although I must say," he forced his expression into a pretense of sympathy, "poor Jareth, no man, Fae or not, is a match for you sweet Evelain." He chuckled to himself, "He is likely as not, mad with envy by now, pouting over such a misleading vision." Ferric sighed wistfully, "If only I could see it."

"Well, dear brother," Evelain exchanged a significant look with her younger brother, "Why _shouldn't_ we call upon dear Jareth? Our future king has been such a dull man this last half decade, I dare say he owes us a bit of entertainment, and I'm certain this situation will suite our fancy perfectly." Ferric's eyes swirled and glittered, an anticipatory grin stealing across his mouth.

"Indeed, dear sister, I could not have said it better myself," he kissed the back of her hand, pausing at the look of censure on his siblings face.

"If we visit, Ferric, you must swear to me to leave his mortal in peace," Evelain cautioned, "he is more prickly over this one than a pin, more heated with jealousy than is good for his cold heart, and I know for certain he will not appreciate your… interferences." She eyed him levelly, frowning as he feigned a look of nonchalant innocence.

"I, interfere, with my dear brother?" He fluttered his soot colored lashes innocently, "Never." He proclaimed as if the mere notion hurt his sensibilities.

Evelain sighed in resignation, well enough acquainted with her half sibling's tricks and lies to know one when she heard it, and even if he was purposely making his mind foggy and unclear to her senses she could still read her little brother like a book. Now she would have two meddlesome twits to keep an eye on. Maya, _and_ Ferric. Did her duties never cease?

"Is this a dream?" It had to be a dream, Sarah told herself warily, otherwise she was trapped in a very strange world indeed. It was nothingness, an infinite stretch of empty, a vast display of endless night, with no stars and no moon, it was cold, dark, a terrifying blackness surrounded her and the dark depths of this strange place held no warmth. Only fear. There was no ground, no ceiling, there was no décor to speak of, just a vastness of a bleak abyss, and Sarah felt her heart crying at the loneliness of it all. Alone, in the center, was a visage she knew too well, that of beauty and cruelty, glamour and intimidation, he sat bent, his chin in his leather clad palm, eyeing her with his piercing mismatched eyes.

"It must be," he pointed out dryly, "for we are here, without purpose or preamble, and such a place as 'here' does not exist." He eyed their surroundings with a mute disdain, quirking his mouth into a thin smile, "And you, of course, would not come to me as such, if this were not a dream." Sarah frowned, trying to unravel the meaning of his last statement, when a self conscious moment of insecurity prompted her to look at herself, or her dream self as it was. A furious blush scorched her cheeks at the sheer white gown she wore, flimsy, glittery, and see through, it fell to her knees and hid _nothing_ from a pair of sardonically amused blue and brown eyes. Her hands fluttered uselessly at her chest, trying to hide her nakedness from his view.

"Ah, but Sarah sweet, this is a dream," he reiterated, flashing a glimpse of sharp teeth, "Modesty is a mute point, would you not agree?" He cocked his head, eyeing her leisurely, carnally, in a way that made Sarah instantaneously frozen with embarrassment and shock. If this was a dream, why was it so very vivid? And why, unlike all her other dreams, did she feel so self conscious? Before hand, no matter how improbably the circumstance, Sarah's dream self would always accept its role without question, but here, now, practically naked before the Goblin King, she floundered in self doubt. She was unsure and embarrassed, not to mention suspicious, this seemed more like a trick than a dream.

His eyes narrowed perceptibly, "You were always adapt at perception, precious, it was perhaps a bit naïve of me to think this reality would fool you so easily," he stretched, languidly, and Sarah couldn't help but notice how each of his muscles moved like water, fluidly, inhumanly, with such grace and exactness even such a simply movement was like a work of art.

"So this _is_ your doing," she accused hotly, and then, remembering how she was dressed a riot of red bloomed on her face, "I want my clothes back immediately, Goblin King!" She wrapped her arms around her chest, even more furious at the bout of chuckling this provoked from her observer. "You really have some nerve," she added heatedly, "I bet you really were in my bedroom earlier too," she narrowed her eyes, "I don't know what you're up to, but when I find out…"

"Oh?" Sarah stilled, like a rabbit in a snare as a gust of warm breath trailed across her neck and shoulder, causing her to stiffen and shiver, "Pray tell, Sarah, what would you do to me?" The way he asked it of her, with such venom and a mild hint of curiosity, reminded her who exactly she was dealing with. As if him disappearing and reappearing right behind her wasn't reminder enough.


End file.
