CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN - THE VISIT TO THE SOUTHWEST

Breakfast came late Friday morning. Jareth's servant, ever hopeful that his majesty would confess his true feelings for the mortal, thought they may have gotten in late and would like to sleep in. "Good morning your majesty," she sang as she brought in his tray.

"Is it?"

"Oh, come now, you're just groggy," the elf commented when she saw the dark circles under his eyes. "What time did you get in last night?"

"I don't remember, late, sometime after midnight," Jareth stared blankly at the ceiling refusing to acknowledge her presence in his room.

"What time did you get to bed?"

"It's on my to do list."

"Did you at least have a good time?" Arulan was nothing if she wasn't persistent.

The king slid up so that his back rested against his intricately carved headboard, "I had the time of my life Arulan, and that's saying quite a bit. Ilkor was there. He reminded me how many years have passed since I last attended a ring. It's been too long." A whimsical haze clouded his eyes, "The music, the dancing, the food, the maypole. Twink was running the show. Some things never change. She got Sarah to sing."

"What did she sing?"

"Some tune from one of the shows she's done."

"Lovely I bet," Arulan guessed as she removed the silver dome from over Jareth's breakfast.

Jareth picked at his food, "More than lovely. The words, I don't know what it is with mortals, but I wonder if they ever listen to the words in their songs. The way it talked about a secret devotion, a woman who had feelings for some man who didn't always behave the way other people thought he should. Not a particularly nice man I assume, but she loved him dearly, though she wouldn't admit it." A heavy sigh and he continued, "It got me wishfully thinking I suppose."

"Why not? You don't know for certain that Sarah didn't choose that song so you would hear those words. She's never behaved like your average mortal in any situation she's been in up until now, let's not make her one over this! Jareth," her voice pleaded, "You've got to tell her."

"How? How do you tell someone who's so young in the scheme of things that you want to offer them forever? She didn't understand then, I doubt she will now. How do I ask her to give up her friends, her family, her career, everything she has ever known? You don't just walk up to a woman and say, 'Look, been thinking, and well, I love you.'"

"Well no, of course you don't do it like that. You two are leaving for Gandor's in four days, why not tell her while you're there."

"We'll be busy. There's so much to see. The workshop is going to be in full swing. She'll want to visit. Gandor will have tasks. And by the time we get to Elbereth's, it'll be the same thing." He sipped at the juice on his tray. "If I'm going to tell her, I have to do it in a way that's as special as she is, as unique. You didn't see her last night. She was so at ease, so filled with wonder at everything she was seeing and participating in. For a time I even thought that she might feel something romantic for me, but then I blamed it on the night and the magic."

"What happened?"

"The Gach Ean, she wanted to dance the Gach Ean. When I told her what it was, after we'd left, on our way home she said that I intoxicated her, she wanted me to, I mean us to...be intimate."

"And you rejected her?"

"What was I supposed to do? Take her off into the woods and have my way with her?"

"It's an idea," Arulan said causing the Goblin King's jaw to drop.

"I'm surprised at you. 'Court her,' you said. 'Court her without letting her know you're courting her.' Next thing I know you're telling me to take her out to the grove for a romp. I surely wish you'd make up your mind."

"Woman take rejection harder than men," she said.

"Bet me!"

"Poor thing's probably so embarrassed."

Jareth noticed that Arulan no longer seemed to be paying any attention to him. Her thoughts were on how to fix what the king had done, or not done as it were, and he thought he was just being a gentleman. "Uh, immortal, afraid of losing the woman he loves and/or dying when she runs off with his soul."

"I'll talk to her for you, but I know this much Jareth, you have got to tell her how you feel. She's only here for three more weeks. I don't care how you do it, but you've got to do it and you've got to do it soon."

"It's on my to do list," he grumbled as she left.

Sarah's duvet was pulled up over the pillows, a near perfectly circular mound in the center of it. Gently, Arulan peeled back the cover only to be met by ten pink toes. "Sarah?" The girl twisted around beneath the blanket and popped her head up. "Dear, what's wrong?"

"Everything," she pouted then, feeling a bit childish, she smoothed over her wild hair, "Nothing, nothing that isn't my own fault."

"Why be so hard on yourself girl?"

"Please don't take this the wrong way but, you and Jareth, you have a relationship and I don't want to damage that relationship anymore than I already have. You've made me feel like, like I belong here even though I'm from someplace very different, someplace most people here despise. I just don't think we should discuss these things."

"Is this about what happened after the ring?"

"Oh God," Sarah shrieked. "He told you! Of course he told you. I'm so embarrassed, even more embarrassed than last night."

"What have you to be embarrassed about?" the elf asked, trying to settle the girl's flapping hands.

"It wasn't his fault. He didn't do anything." That was a half truth, the king had kissed her on the maypole, but he was taunted. "I was just so caught up in the night and I didn't want it to end so," she gulped trying to get the lump in her throat to move, "I threw myself at him. I practically begged him to make love to me, but he resisted. I swear and now I feel just awful about the whole thing."

Arulan smiled, "Oh dear, if that's all, what have you got to feel sorry about? The Goblin King is a complicated fey. He does things for strange reasons sometimes and I don't think anyone understands why but him. Just give him his space and let him do what he needs to do, that's how I'd handle it." To the elf it seemed perfectly clear. She had told the girl to be patient and let Jareth come to her. But what Sarah heard was that some times the king needed to do certain things and Arulan merely let him do it. Must have been that last night Sarah was not one of the things he needed to do. The elf revealed Sarah's breakfast. She only pushed it around on her plate utterly baffled at why Arulan let Jareth treat her the way he did. Arulan left Sarah's room shortly after she'd begun to eat, feeling as though she had done her part to get them together.

Embarrassed by her behavior with the king, as well as being embarrassed by her conversation with Arulan, Sarah hid most of the day. Between going to the king's office for books and reading them in her room, it was a relatively easy task. They'd be off again soon and dinners just before they left were always a big deal. Sarah decided that she would ask to be allowed to visit Hoggle for dinner at least one of those nights. The king was just happy that she was asking to go there and not to Tiberon's. He gave her a single night. She'd enjoyed that night quite a lot. Chatting with Drema, playing with Sarah One, and Hoggle's endless admiration of her seemed to do much to restore her confidence.

The afternoon before they were scheduled to leave, while Sarah was flipping through a book about Sidhe, it occurred to her that Jareth had wanted her to practice magic this week so she didn't get ill when visiting the western sectors. He must have changed his mind because he never came looking for her. In fact, outside of their consultation about visiting Hoggle, she'd done a good job of avoiding him altogether. Jareth was pleased to have the time alone. It wasn't because he didn't want to see the mortal - quite the contrary. He spent countless hours in his music room trying to come up with a way to do just that.

Dinner the night before they left came and went without conflict. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts, even though their thoughts were basically the same. Deverell and Dalkeil had sent their apologies in advance, but they were going into the woods to meet an elf who would be crafting a sword for the young fey. Turgomon was busy making the arrangements for the visit to the southwest. When at last Sarah laid her head upon her pillow, she could rest easily, feeling as if what had transpired between her and Jareth was now just a distant memory of a silly misunderstanding. Mortals can be so foolish.

As the sun illuminated the Labyrinth, Jareth, dressed in hunter green breeches, a cream shirt and a black waist coat, met Sarah in the main entrance. She was wearing black breeches and a deep green sweater, upon Arulan's suggestion she wore a pair of gloves. "Not that it will be cold," the elf had told her, "but if you're playing in the snow, it'll keep you dry." A native always knows best.

"Gloves?" Jareth asked when he saw her.

"Took a tip from your fashion designer," Sarah leveled.

"Not in those boots you didn't," Jareth sparred back. After all her boots were mid calf, black leather, but they had no heel. Atrocious!

Feeding her arm through his, Sarah prepared for the transport. Maybe she could get through this humiliation after all. He didn't seem to give one iota that she had brazenly made a spectacle of herself. They arrived seconds later at the door to Gandor's ice castle. The Representative met them there, greeting Sarah first. "Look at you," he praised. "Lovely sweater, angora?"

"I think. Arulan had it made."

"Well she had it made with your beautiful green eyes in mind and that cowl neck, it frames your face quite nicely. Oh, if I was only a few centuries younger and mortal," he feigned woe. "And you old man, how have you been?"

"I hate when you call me old man."

"Time to face facts Jareth after 150 it's all down hill." Gandor's white beard shook when he laughed as his full cheeks rose to hide his eyes. "Come in, come in."

"So what's on your honey do list," Sarah asked, chipper at seeing a familiar face she knew she could trust.

Gandor looked at her with confusion in his gentle eyes, "Honeydew list?"

"Mortal thing I suppose. Honey do list. Honey, do this or honey, do that." She waited for the recognition to set in and was rewarded with deep throaty chuckling when it came.

"Yes, well we have plenty of time for that. First let's talk. Jareth tells me you've been having some trouble with Tiberon." Sarah shot Jareth a look of betrayal. "Now wait," Gandor went on, "I told you once before that if he bothered you, you had but to let me know. So far as we Representatives go, Tiberon is a pup. Appointed by the third king only centuries ago. Me, I'm the Gavel's brother, I've been around for a few millennia. Let's just say I have ways of handling him." Gandor smiled a proud smile as he leaned back in a chair in the sitting room where he had led them and invited his company to do the same.

"It wasn't Tiberon whose been giving me the trouble, it's Maeve."

"Maeve you say," Gandor looked at Jareth.

The king had hoped he and the Representative could have discussed this privately, but since that was not to be, "Maeve was the one she saw with the actual powder, but I think they're in cahoots."

"It wouldn't surprise me if they were. Tiberon seems to perpetually have his nose in something, usually anything that makes you unhappy," he gestured toward the king.

Sarah's thoughts about Tiberon's motives started to swing out of the neutral zone and lean toward suspicion. Between the dream and now Gandor's take on the situation. Jareth had mellowed these last few days where the topic was concerned and without him applying pressure to see things his way, Sarah was able to start putting it together on her own. It was obvious Tiberon had put a lot of planning into the dinner, down to taking extra steps to keep Jareth away. Why would he just let Maeve slip in the back with a handful of dust? That spinning feeling she got the first time they had dined alone, it was just like when Jareth had given her the peach. Suddenly memories she didn't want came flooding into her mind. "On second thought Gandor, I think I would like you to have a word with him," Sarah said, still dazed by her returning memory.

"Just one?" Gandor asked. "I can think of at least two. Oh, no make that twelve, but only if I need to summarize. If you'll allow me, I'd be happy to elaborate in epic length proportions…"

Jareth raised his hand to the Representative, concern on his face, "Sarah are you alright?"

"I remember, that first night at his castle. I remember, just before desert I started to feel odd, kind of like wine going to my head, but then everything started to wobble and spin. It was like when I ate the peach. I asked him to help me just before everything went black." Her rich skin went pale. "Until...I don't know when. I just remember you being there."

"Sarah, don't work yourself up. You don't have to remember. It's over now."

Tears filled her eyes, "It's not over, something happened. I can hear your voice, low and loud in my head. It's not over until I remember what happened Jareth and I think you can tell me."

"You were weak and tired. True to my word I returned at sunset to collect you."

"Yes, you had to carry me because I couldn't stand. I didn't wake up until I was in your arms. Your hair was in my face, but my arms were so heavy I just tried to shake it away." Sarah's eyes closed tightly, her head shaking slightly back and forth. She tried to recall that night, piece together the parts he was leaving out. "You wrapped me up in a blanket, but I wasn't cold. I was actually very warm, too warm. The drugs and the exhaustion, I was dripping with sweat, but you," wide green eyes looked at him, dimmed with humiliation, her arms folded around her body. "I was naked."

"Sarah I'm sorry," the king said sincerely.

"He…he took my clothes. I was in his bedroom," the poor girl was horrified. It was everything Jareth could do to keep from taking her in his arms in an effort to protect her, but he had a feeling that a man's closeness was the last thing she wanted right now. Her skin was crawling at the idea of it all. "What if he…oh my God…what if he…"

Jareth ended her torment, "He did not." Even though he wasn't positive, he was sure enough. He needed to be, needed to be sure enough for both of them. "My healer looked you over thoroughly Sarah. Tiberon did nothing but create an elaborate scene that might indicate to someone that something more had happened."

"And did he succeed?" The king tilted his head in confusion, "Did he succeed in making you believe that something more happened?"

"For a time. You were acting very strangely. Tiberon and I exchanged a few words. His performance alone was very convincing. Then there was the fact that you wished to return to his home a second time, but when the healer said you'd been given a hallucinogen, I knew he'd used the drug to make himself seem more appealing to you."

"I didn't do anything. I wouldn't! I don't care what I've ever said to you Jareth, I would never consciously do those kinds of things," in her fury it crossed her mind to admit, 'with anyone here, but you'; however, she was still aware of Gandor's presence and concluded by saying, "not with him."

Jareth took her hands into his own. It felt strange with her thin fingers encased in leather. He thought for a minute if he must feel this strange to her. "I know," he said with the smooth consoling tones of a doting lover. Perhaps with too much emotion, for her eyes snapped on him.

A moment later she pulled her hands from his, unsheathed them from the gloves, wiped her eyes and inquired, "If you don't mind, I feel as though I'd like to bathe again today."

Gandor called for one of his elves, "Take the young lady to her room, show her where she can freshen up."

"Excuse me," Sarah said as she left the men behind, both of whom rose until she had left the room.

"I'll do worse than have words with him," Gandor growled. "I'll have his pointed little head on a stick." His thick fists crashed against the table causing a deep crack in the ice.

"Easy does it my friend. I've already been through being angry with him. Making us angry is exactly what he wants. Unfortunately Sarah has been made a victim by his games, but, she is resilient. I believe she'll be fine once she's had time to realize that she is not responsible for what was done to her. We, on the other hand, must play our cards wisely. We must outsmart him, that means first finding out what game the enemy is playing." Jareth drummed his fingertips on the table. "The Gavel wouldn't do me a favor if I asked him with my dying breath, but if his brother asked him, perhaps he could tell us something more."

"I'll pay him a visit as soon as you and the girl have left this sector Jareth, I've told Sarah from her second day here that she had but to call upon me." A pause came between them, broken when the Representative asked, "You have a great compassion for the girl, your majesty. More than I have seen you display with any woman. I wonder if the stakes aren't personal for you this time."

"He's causing trouble in my kingdom, that makes it personal."

Gandor smiled knowingly at him, "She's a very beautiful woman son, you don't have anything to be ashamed of."

Lunch was being served in the dining room by the time the mortal joined them again. This time the conversation was much lighter than it had been when first they arrived. "Well, hello there," Gandor boomed. "Jareth and I were just saying that thanks to your earlier visit, there isn't a whole lot left to be done in these parts. There's an ice jam in one of the streams that leads away from the lake, but we can deal with that in the morning. I thought that perhaps rather than casting spells left and right, you might like to lend a hand in the workshop while you're here."

"Santa's workshop?" she asked. Gandor nodded. Her face was lit by the childlike innocence Jareth had seen at the ring. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. He's getting down to the wire, he'll be furry red hat over his golden boot buckles to have extra helpers. I'll take you over myself as soon as we've finished lunch."

Though she tried to be polite, Sarah ate at the speed of light. She felt like she was nine again, eager to go and meet a man, an entire race, she had thought were nothing more than inventions of the parental mind. Jareth noticed her anxiousness and shoved his plate away, "I don't think I could eat another bite."

"Well, then I guess we're off." The threesome went north from Gandor's castle towards the puffs of smoke which rose from the workshop. Gandor had to duck to get through the front door. The inside of the shop was like a combination between the workings of a grandfather clock and an exploded toy chest. Belts and conveyers, springs and gears, all moving something along. Assembly lines of little elves in green tunics and striped leggings, painting and putting together toys, addressing tags and wrapping gifts. Dolls, trucks, sports gear, clothes, bears, anything any child could want hung from hooks or waited in bins or being freshly assembled in every direction.

Sarah's bottom jaw hung low when she heard the laughter of a rosy cheeked old man. Behind his wire rims, two blue eyes looked at her. Swallowing up her hand in his white gloves, Santa repeated her name thoughtfully, "Sarah Williams. Sarah Williams. I don't think I have anything for you." His finger rose to his nose and then reached under his red velvet, fur trimmed hat and scratched at his head. "You haven't asked me for anything in a very long time. Did I disappoint you one Christmas?"

Tears filled her eyes, "No, no, you never disappointed me. Somewhere along the line I stopped believing in you and I stopped asking."

Catching the falling tears on a hanky that he pulled from inside his coat, Santa said, "Hush girl. I've yet to meet the adult who hasn't done the same exact thing." He offered her the tissue, the tears she'd cried now turned to candy buttons. "Have one."

Sarah crunched down on one of the bits, "How'd you do that?"

"Wasn't me," he feigned innocence. "You must just be that sweet." His finger tapped her nose. "You're more honest than most. Lots of times I hear about how someone wanted a new car, but they got lottery tickets instead. This is a workshop, not a Chrysler dealership. They gave the tickets away, but what they didn't know is the tickets were big winners. Plenty for a deposit on a new car. Remember what you asked me for when you were eight?"

Shyly Sarah confessed, "A pony."

"And what did you get?"

"An English Sheepdog."

"Which…"

"Which I rode like a pony until I was eleven."

"See it all works out. And when you were fourteen, you asked for a castle."

Sarah remembered that now, "And you gave me an easy bake oven."

"So I did," he chuckled. "But I gave Jareth the news that Toby was about to be born and told him he ought to keep an eye on you." If her mouth wasn't gapping before it was now. As if Sarah didn't look shocked enough, Jareth's face was splashed with waves of horror and betrayal, his secret revealed. "See what people don't understand is that I'm Santa Claus, not a genie. I take what people want, consider what they need and try to ascertain what's best for them. Unless they're naughty, then it's just coal, coal, coal!" His belly really did shake like a bowl full of jelly when he laughed. The harder he laughed, the more it shook. "Now, the holidays are upon us and I'd say your faith in me is restored," she shook her head to indicate he was indeed correct, "so tell me what can I bring you this Christmas?"

Sarah looked at him. "I don't think I need to tell you."

"No," he winked. "I suppose you don't." A new found understanding between them, they walked on, "Come, I'll let you work in the paint shop with some of my elves." Jareth's jaw dropped as his eyes pleaded with Gandor for some explanation. The Representative only shrugged and followed behind the mortal. "Your majesty, I thought we'd put those muscles of yours to good use, loading my sacks."

"Surely you're not suggesting that as a king I engage in manual labor?"

"Do you want coal again this year?" Santa's bushy eyebrows furrowed at the king's attempt to weasel out of helping.

"Well I find it incredibly unfair that you take one's profession into account when doling out these gifts of yours."

"Really, I wonder what your basis for comparison is?" Even the Representative had to chuckle at Santa's quick wit.

The Goblin King cleared his throat. "Yes, well, lawyers for instance, they still get presents don't they?" Righteous indignation dripped from his words, a wide smile indicating he felt he'd proven his point.

"Yes, I suppose some of them do, but I wouldn't say it puts any big dent in the season's budget." Santa smirked beneath his massive white beard, "If you'd rather, you could shovel the reindeer stalls."

"No, no, I'll stuff the sacks. But there best be something more than coal in my stockings this year."

"Stockings?" Sarah asked. "Isn't it usually one per customer?"

"It is his kingdom," Santa sighed. "Furley, Roper," he said to two of the elves as they entered the paint shop, "this is Sarah. She's going to help out around here today. Now, no goofing off. I want you to make a good impression."

The elves greeted Sarah and hurriedly took her to an empty artist's table and explained to her what she needed to do. The dolls and other toys would come down the assembly line where they dropped into a bin. The elves each took a toy from the bin, back to their tables and painted it. When it was painted, they moved it to the drying rack and then other elves would come take the toys from the drying rack and move them to the finishing room. She couldn't help thinking how organized they all seemed. Hours passed quickly as she used brushes to turn fire engines red and center a pair of ruby lips below the button eyes of a floppy rag doll. It was three o'clock when the first whistle blew in three quick short bursts. All the elves dropped their brushes and scurried off. Furley waved to Sarah, "It's break time. We only get twenty minutes. Come on, come on."

She followed him outside. With everyone gathered out in the snow, Sarah could see just how many hands it took to keep the shop running, hundreds of them. Some of them skated around the pond, others played in the snow. Some found places to sit and play cards or chess. Roper was busy trying to roll the bottom mound of a snowman, but the ball of snow was now far too big for him to manipulate. Pulling her gloves from the waistband of her breeches, Sarah donned the leather barriers and began to fashion a ball of snow in her hand. When Roper wasn't looking, she tossed it in his direction causing it to crack over his left shoulder. The elf jumped. Sarah laughed. When he caught her enjoying herself, he smiled. Furley joined in the fun, chucking another snowball in Roper's direction.

Before long about a dozen of them were involved in the battle. Somehow Sarah had managed to avoid getting hit at all. A few flakes of snow caught in her hair as the projectiles whizzed passed her head. The white was a perfect contrast to her black locks. Her cheeks were rosied by the chill in the air. Jareth watched from a hill, propped against a tree, where he took his break alone, without even Gandor for company. He saw her laughing, the contagious, full kind of laughter that caught among everyone who could hear her. Her small hands wrapped over her stomach as she exploded in a hearty guffaw. Just then, a snowball flung towards an elf who had managed to duck the blow, struck Sarah in the hip. It didn't end her laughter, just broke it for a moment. It was obviously a younger elf who had launched the blow. The tiny culprit froze with fear that he would be punished for his attack on their guest, but Sarah merely chased him until he was caught and then swung him around in her arms. They shared a smile as she returned him to the snowy ground. Jareth looked on, the snow now filling her hair with a thick blanket of white, like a lace veil that still let some of her rich black color show through. Beauty surrounded her, emitted from her like a light that shone brighter than the sun. He looked on, a smile he couldn't hide twisting his lips into a wide grin. The king's keen observation of her did not escape Sarah's attention. Rather she sent one of the smaller elves sneaking off armed with a snowball all his own and instructions to fire when he saw Jareth's mismatched eyes. Sarah watched intently, distracting him with her smile as the elf hurled the handful of wet snow, pegging him in his side. The mortal laughed twice as hard as she had earlier. Jareth smiled down the hill at her, raising his eyebrow enough to let her know he was aware of her role in this act of treason. After a moment he smiled back at her, like the snow collecting in her hair, trapped in the same web of elegance that he'd fallen prey to.

Moments later he charged down the hill towards her, grabbing her up in his hands and spinning her madly. Clumps of snow fell from her hair and pattered against his cheeks, but Jareth didn't care. "Sending your henchmen after me has its consequences you know."

"What may they be? Will you spin me about until I get sick?" Sarah continued laughing, "I should think you would rather get the brunt of such punishment."

"Right you are," he conceded lowering the mortal to the ground. Slightly off center from the huge circles she'd been swung in, Sarah stumbled back, lost footing and plopped into the thick blanket of snow. Still having quite a good time, she lie back and began to flap her arms and legs. "Good God, what've I done? Are you having a seizure?"

"No silly," Sarah reassured him reaching out, "give me your hand." Once the king had helped her to her feet, she turned around and looked down at her creation. As Sarah extended one arm in a presentational sweep, she explained, "Snow angel." Jareth couldn't have agreed more.

One would think that sleeping in an ice castle, on a bed made of ice, with nothing more than linens between the cold and the skin would chill a body to the bone, but that was the thing which Sarah had grown to love most about this sector. It didn't. Even buried knee deep in the snow, it was still comfortable. She awoke feeling rested and eager to go back to Santa's workshop. After the rousing snowball fight she'd initiated the day before, her evening passed entirely too quickly. Gandor forced them home at seven for their evening meal and this morning she had promised to tend to the ice jam in the river. It seemed as though she would never get back to the workshop. On she trudged, wedged protectively between the Representative and the king, through the snow to fulfill the promises the Triumvirate had made for her. A heavy sigh escaped her lips when they came to the workshop and just kept walking.

"You really enjoyed working there didn't you?" Jareth asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, I really did. I don't know, they're all just so cute and tiny. Besides, every fire truck I painted yesterday is going to make some kid happy in a couple of weeks when they wake up and come running down the stairs filled with amazement over a visit from Santa Claus." She was beaming at the thought.

"Good deedster," the king chided.

Sarah's hands rose to her ears, palm side up, "Kinda my job."

"Speaking of which," Gandor stopped at the bank of the river before the ice jam, "Care to have a go at this?"

The girl stepped up to the river bank, determination filling her stare as she took in the enormity of the chunks of ice blocked across the water. "Sarah, are you sure you're feeling well enough to attempt this? I mean after all..."

"After all," she finished, "I've had plenty of rest for days now." Her hand rested against the Goblin King's lapel, "You're here, nothing is going to happen to me."

Obviously flustered by her proclamation of trust in him, he placed his hand over hers and stammered, "Right. Well, then get on with it."

In her mind, Sarah concocted a vision of warm summer breezes and swiftly flowing water, a bright noon sun heating the earth from all it's many light years away. But no matter how she tried to focus on the elements, other things kept entering the vision. Warm summer breezes would sweep in over a beach like the one in the Northeast, only far less foreboding, and she would see herself with Jareth on the sand, folded inside his frock coat, warmed by what was left of his body heat. Not exactly the kind of thing that would likely melt an ice jam. It was no better with the hot sun. Too much like their adventures in the meadows when they were traveling to and from the mountains. The rushing water in her vision was meant to represent the river she'd come to repair, but it quickly arched into a waterfall, the kind she and Jareth had hidden beneath. Sarah gasped at the recollection.

"What is it?" Gandor asked rushing to her side.

"Sarah?" Jareth followed.

Opening her eyes, the mortal was disappointed to see hardly any of the ice had melted. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked looking at the king with concern. "What if the powder that Maeve used did something to disrupt my magic?" Her voice was filling with panic and her eyes with fear.

Black gloves smoothed over her hair. "Relax. You know your emotions will impact your magic. I'm sure your just having trouble concentrating because of wanting to be at the workshop." Sure, that was what she was thinking about. "You don't feel nauseous or dizzy do you? Do you want to sit down?"

"I am thinking about going back to the shop," she lied. "I feel fine, I just need to concentrate." Closing her eyes she thought about a long hot bath, water steaming up around her, each muscle relaxing. In no time at all she heard the river flowing free again.

Gandor was whooping praise, as Jareth caressed her bare arm. "Job well done," he told her. Somehow accolades from the king always pleased her most of all.

"I'd say your job here is done. Now why not run along to the workshop and get in a full day's work, you slacker."

Sarah beamed as she ran toward the billowing clouds. "Shall we?" Jareth asked the Representative.

"Don't be a damned fool, Jareth. Run after her. I'll meet you at the castle for dinner."

Had his emotions become all that obvious? "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Some things a person just needs to do. Speaking of which..." Gandor rose his eyebrows as he nodded in the direction Sarah had just run off in.

Jareth had started to run after the mortal, but froze in his tracks, "I thought you said..."

"I know, but I just better let you get moving before I lose your attention all together." He watched the king go on in pursuit of her and then called, "Jareth, there is one thing;" when Jareth turned around he suggested, "why not go and visit Oberon while you're here? I know how much he'd love to see you, not to mention Sarah."

"I can't take her to meet him."

"Why not?"

Wasn't it obvious? "How am I supposed to explain bringing her home to meet my great grandfather?"

"Sooner or later, king. The choice is yours." Gandor turned to walk away.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Though Gandor pretended to ignore the king's question, he repeated it anyway. "What is that supposed to mean? Gandor? I know you can hear me. Gandor!" Giving up, Jareth used his magic to transport to a spot just a few steps behind Sarah before breaking out in a quick sprint and catching up.

"So you really like it here do you?" Jareth asked when he reached her side.

Sarah nodded emphatically as she slowed to a walk. "I've found something to like about every place we've been," she told him cheerfully, not yet willing to admit that being with him was that something.

"Even at Ranofyr's?" the king asked surprised.

"Aesthetically it's a wonderful place."

"Suppose I needn't ask what you find so charming about the southeast."

Sarah's eyes filled with hurt, her lip quivering as she queried, "How could you say that? After everything he did, the things I did."

Jareth's leather gloves wrapped around her shoulders, "I was talking about Hoggle." He watched helplessly as the tears began to fall. "Sarah, what happened with Tiberon was a horrible thing, something I wish you hadn't experienced, something I wish was in my power to undo." Slowly his palms began to stroke her arms.

"It's a horrible thing that I brought on. I should have just listened to you when you told me not to visit him." Sarah refused to meet the Goblin King's stare which kept her from noticing her heartbreak reflected on his face.

"Sarah, none of what happened was your fault. Tiberon took advantage of your compassion. He had absolutely no right to do what he did, and neither did Maeve."

"But I pushed the issue. I fought you to allow me to have dinner with him, I let him dance that way with me and when he kissed me, I kissed back." Sarah turned away from the Goblin King.

Though he didn't admit it, her confession was like a kick in his stomach, but as it had always been he forgot his own pain when he heard her whimpering. "Sarah," he called to her calmly.

"I'm no better than Maeve. Just when I think you might really be starting to like me and I do exactly what she did. All these years I've tried to convince myself that I deserved something better than Christian when the truth is, we're birds of a feather."

Rather than spin her around to face him, Jareth stepped before her. The forefinger of his left hand chucked the underside of her chin. "Sarah. You are better than Maeve, much better in a hundred or more ways. The truth is even if you had slept with Tiberon, which you did not," he reiterated for both their peaces of mind, "You still couldn't have betrayed me the way she did. She professed her love to me and then threw it all away in a moment of personal gratification. You have never professed anything to me," although the king wished very much she had. "You were under the influence of some very powerful magics. Nothing you did was within your control."

"It sure felt like it was."

His finger pressed her lips closed before he went on, "Nothing you did was within your control." Staring deep into her watery eyes he felt some of his hesitation melt away. She must feel something for him, if she was this upset at the idea of having hurt him. Jareth pulled away his finger and placed his lips lightly against Sarah's "Now no more talk of you being like Maeve or Christian or anyone else. You are Sarah Williams, an individual, unlike any other in my world or in yours, and I like you just fine, precisely as you are."

She smiled, a soft short smile that wanted to consume her whole face, but she fought it back. "You do?" Jareth nodded. That wasn't so hard. "You don't act like it sometimes." Of course, she'd made it difficult.

"Oh for the love of a pixie Sarah, would you please learn to take a compliment. I like you. I like having you here, I like spending time with you, I usually enjoy talking to you." Who was making him say these things. Suddenly he'd become a puppet, his jaws flapping as he uttered things he had no intention of saying. He reclaimed control, "But I'm still king. I still have appearances to keep up."

"And being mean to me, is that part of your appearances?"

"I'm not mean." Her eyes fell upon him sharply, "Not always. There have been times when I have been incredibly gentle with you."

"That's another thing. I lied, Jareth." His eyebrow went up in curiosity. "I lied when I told you sometimes, sex was just sex. For some people maybe, but not for me. I don't just traipse off into the forest with every attractive man I see."

"So you find me attractive," modesty was not the king's best quality.

"You know I do. We talked about that. But it's more than that."

"More?" He was feeling particularly hopeful at this.

"I don't know. I mean, I've grown to trust you. I think of you," her head screamed, 'constantly', but her lips said, "as someone I can trust, like an older brother. Someone who watches out for me."

"As a brother," his face hung with disappointment. "Well I'm glad you feel like you can trust me."

"I wouldn't have done those thing with you otherwise. I know I shouldn't have, but I was feeling this tension between us Jareth and that's why I'm telling you this now. I don't want us to have that tension anymore." She thought of Arulan. Sarah had to do this for her. She deserved the king's loyalties and Sarah coming back Underground had ruined that. "I want us to get along."

"If you somehow felt that I pressured you into the things we did Sarah, I apologize," the king's head hung, his hands engulfing the hands of his mortal, as much honesty as he had coating his words. "It was never my intention to take advantage of your attraction to me in order to force you into our sleeping together."

"I never thought you did Jareth. I'm just saying that I respect what you've established for yourself Underground and I would never want to do anything that could damage it. A relationship between you and I could be," 'the most fabulous thing to ever happen to me,' Sarah thought. After a small pause she remembered she'd left her sentence incomplete "complicated."

"Isn't it already?" Jareth asked.

"You said yourself we have no relationship."

"I said what I said in anger. Any two beings who come in contact with each other have a relationship. Even if they're merely acquaintances. I thought you said you wanted us to be friends. Is that no longer the way you feel?" He waited for her to tell him he would loose this too, as he felt he'd lost everything else.

Sarah wiped the last of the tears from her eyes, "Friends? Of course we're friends. That's my point. Even though I found both you and Tiberon attractive Jareth, certain things happened between the two of us because I thought of you as a friend, someone I could turn to for comfort. I never felt that with Tiberon."

Greater devastation had not been known than to hear her compare him to the Representative. Jareth straightened his spine. "The only reason you were even attracted to Tiberon in the first place was because he used magic on you. It's no wonder you found no solace in him." For a moment neither of them spoke. Wishing now he'd have ignored Gandor's suggestion, Jareth rushed her off, "Go on, I know your anxious to get to the shop."

"Aren't you coming?"

"I don't think so," he said glumly.

"But what will you do while I'm with them?"

Mismatched eyes burrowed into her, "You may find this hard to believe, but I have been able to amuse myself a time or two while you weren't around." Without objection, Sarah turned and left. From the look she gave him before her departure, it became apparent heeding Gandor's advice would not be Jareth's only regret today.

For a time, the king milled about in the snow. Arulan had helped him figure out exactly how he would reveal his love to her. What was there to confess now. Each time Jareth parted his lips to speak to her he made the situation worse. Now he thought he was just a compassionate, protective sibling in her eyes. Reaching to the frozen ground below, Jareth fashioned a snowball. Angrily, he launched it at a tree trunk. It splattered flatly, as had his heart.

"Nothing's worth this!" he cried into the cerulean sky that seemed to mock him. "Not a woman alive of any species knows a thing about what she really wants, not even when it comes crawling to her."

Jareth didn't remember how he came to kneel in the snow; however, he'd become quite aware of a flat hand against his back and the winds seemed to speak to him, "Some things never change." When the king spun his head around he saw the gentle eyes he remembered from his childhood. Every year at this time, he would come to the Southwest, to join in all the hectic readying for the holiday season. Every year he'd sit at the feet of the man he gazed upon now and listen intently as the man would weave a yarn of tomorrows yet to come. 'Some day,' it began identically each time, 'you will be king..."

"Was a woman that changed me, was a woman who changed your grandfather, a woman who changed your father and a woman who changes you, son." Jareth stood. "What now, not even a hug for your great grandad?" Lovingly, the new king folded his arms around the former king, pulling him close. Oberon's hand patted at Jareth's back in heavy thumps, "My boy, how you've grown."

"I was 74 the last time you saw me."

"Yes, but you've been by since then. Gwendolyn told me of your visits."

Never in all the years he came here asking what he could do for his great grandparents, did Jareth tell anyone that Oberon had refused to see him. He'd had such a great relationship with the former king before he was groomed for the throne. Jareth expected Oberon believed that once the throne claimed his grandson, the evil which had reached up to claim his son would somehow capture him as well. "Why have you refused me all these years?"

"Refused you? I haven't refused you. I've been expecting my son to speak through your lips, his cold heart to somehow beat within your chest."

"Darien loves the evil parts of himself too much to share them with anyone else. Of all the creatures in this world I would think you, most of all, would know just how big a problem he has with sharing anything."

Oberon let out a deep chuckle, "Too true. I was a fool. Gandor pointed that out to me just this afternoon."

"Did he?" Jareth asked with great interest.

The former king nodded, "Forgive me son, but I made a mistake turning away from you. And if you'll have me, I would crawl back into your grace on my knees your majesty." Oberon knelt before his great grandson, tears in his eyes."

"On your feet old man," Jareth spat down at him. When Oberon was standing on his feet once more, Jareth's eyes softened on him, "No king of the Underground, past or present, begs for anything, not even forgiveness." Once more he took his grandfather into his arms and held him there. "You are my only flesh and blood, least the only I would lay claim to." Jareth cleared his throat. Feeling intense emotions welling inside him, he held Oberon at arm's length and asked, "So it was Gandor who sent you looking for me then?"

"Yes," he admitted as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "He said he'd asked you to visit me tomorrow with a special young lady and I couldn't help feeling we'd need to bury this axe before that could happen."

"How do you do that?" Jareth asked amazed by how freely Oberon displayed his emotions.

"What?" he watched his grandson nod as he wiped away another tear. "Cry? Oh my son, I've cried so many times I've long since forgotten the shame in it."

"But you were a great king, how did you manage your subjects respect while showing such weakness?"

"Forgive me if I sound antiquated," Oberon told him, "but the Underground was a far different place when I was chosen for the throne. Appearances didn't mean as much. We followed custom, we did as we were told and as we were asked. We had a respect for the law and that earned us the respect of our subjects. Since," he choked a little as he spoke these next words, "Corwyn lost the throne, it has become a quest to gain the fear of the subjects in the Underground more so than their respect."

"You mean since Darien took over?"

"I prefer not to think of him. You're mother tried very much to undo him. She was a passionate woman who fell in love with a good man. You know that right?" Jareth nodded. "It's a shame what happened to Ian, a shame you didn't get to see the amazing couple they were together. She was magnificent and he only enhanced her. It was as if there'd been a beacon added to the castle. Your mother was not always the sad and empty woman you might remember."

"Please grandfather, don't justify her to me."

"See here, I'm doing no such thing. She loved you Jareth, loved you as purely as she'd loved your father."

"She never even held me!"

Oberon put his arm around the king, "Walk with me son, let me tell you a story of a true and honest love that a fey was terrified to admit to and the pain that it caused. It's a story I'm certain you'll be able to relate to."

Sarah came walking up to the castle doors at the same time Jareth did. "Back for dinner?" she asked him trying to make pleasant conversation.

"Of course," the king admitted. "Didn't feel right making Gandor come to collect us after he gave us the better part of the day to do as we pleased."

"Right, me either," Sarah agreed. Only she hadn't thought of that until he'd just said it now. She'd been at the shop the last hour or so waiting for seven o'clock to roll around so she could see Jareth again. Sarah hated the way they had left things.

Precisely at seven, Gandor opened the castle doors and drew in a breath of surprise when he found both his house guests waiting for him. "Well, look at you two, home just in time for dinner. Don't just stand there, come on in." Gandor led them to the dining room where a feast awaited them. Jareth pulled out Sarah's chair for her. She smiled and whispered a low 'thank you' before taking her seat. The Representative carved the turkey while Jareth and Sarah passed the side dishes back and forth. Out of respect, Sarah made up Gandor's plate. "So how was the shop today?" the Representative asked as he took his seat at the head of the table. "Sarah, thank you," he said when he noticed his plate.

"You're welcome. The shop was busy. I had no idea so much work went into Christmas. They said they've been preparing since March and there's still a ton of last minute things they need to wrap up." Jareth chuckled. "What's so funny?" Sarah asked.

"Think about what you just said."

She mouthed the words as she replayed them in her head, '...last minute things to wrap...' "Oh," she did not join him in laughter, although the Representative did once he caught on. "I wasn't even thinking...I just meant there's a lot left to finish."

Jareth sipped his wine, "It's okay. I knew what you meant. I just found it to be a bit amusing."

Gandor sensed the tension between them and immediately took control of the conversation, "So Jareth, have you decided to take me up on my offer?"

"To which offer are you referring?"

"Why my offer to stay that extra day, of course?"

"Of course," the king drawled. "Well I suppose that depends on Sarah." The mortal looked up at the mention of her name suddenly very interested in the conversation. "Would you like to stay another day?"

"Can I visit the shop again?" she asked anxiously.

Jareth's face turned down, "I'm afraid if you decide to stay there are other matters to which I would expect..." Under the table, Gandor kicked him squarely in the shin, "Excuse me. Matters to which I would hope you might attend."

"Which matters might those be?"

"There is someone I need to see, someone who I think would enjoy meeting you," he told her.

"Who might that be?" she continued with a seemingly endless string of questions.

Gandor moved to answer her inquiry only to receive the same blunt boot which he had delivered earlier from the fey who sat to his right. "The question posed is not to whom we shall visit milady, the question posed is shall you stay on one day more?"

Narrowing her eyes at him, Sarah displayed a fraction of the contempt she had for that poker face that could slide so easily over the king making him nearly impossible to interpret. "Very well then, we'll stay regardless of where you plan on taking me."

"Good, in that case Gandor, the lady and I graciously accept your invitation to another evening's hospitality."

"I had a feeling you might," Gandor turned himself to face Jareth completely before he grinned at him with knowing.

"I don't understand why you can't just tell me where we're going?" Sarah asked as they marched through the snow. While she might not have known where they were going, she knew they were headed south from the shop because of the great puffs of smoke in the sky behind them.

Jareth huffed. "If I live to be a thousand I will never understand women. You want to be surprised, given trinkets and thought of out of the blue, special arrangements made for your pleasing and yet, when the opportunity for astonishment presents itself to you, you would rather know the details in advance. How is that?"

"I don't understand a damn word you've just said."

"In short love, women are a contradiction for which I have yet to, nor do I think I shall ever, find a solution."

Sarah grew angry at his remark. "Why do you do that?"

With a sigh the king asked, "What have I done now?"

"We were having a perfectly fine time until you began insulting me."

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion Jareth replied, "But I haven't insulted you."

"You insulted women, a group of which I happen to be a member and ergo, you have insulted me." Sarah stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms.

Jareth closed in on her, matching her edge with stiff posture and a stern look. His head sunk to match her level, his nose so close to hers she could feel his breath against her lips. Sarah's eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, as they did each time he got within this distance, as her head rocked back ready and eager to accept his mouth. To her dismay, Jareth growled down at her, "A brother doesn't look upon his sister as a woman milady, in fact she appears to him as a completely asexual being whose only purpose is for him to torment and frustrate." His fingers swept across her left temple, cascading down the side of her neck, across her collarbone to the hollow of her throat before dipping over her breastbone. Jareth's eyes followed the path his fingers took until he saw a quick rise in her chest as Sarah drew a hasty breath. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, "Do I torment you Sarah? Do I make you frustrated?"

"I should say...not." Sure she had intended to be cold, but with her blood speeding up it's travel through her veins and so little of it left in her head, it came out more breathless than anything. 'Damn,' she thought.

"Right," he eyed her up and down in suspicion of her sincerity. "Well then let's get a move on, shall we?"

"If we are ever to get wherever we're going, I suppose we shall."

"After you then," he waved an arm in the direction she should head. Watching her walk on, her seat covered by black breeches, he couldn't resist commenting, "Lovely view in these parts, eh?"

"Indeed," Sarah agreed her eyes focused on the mountains and the pale white clouds which dotted the immense blue sky. 'How like the eyes of the king,' she thought.

Another quarter mile or so and from behind her came his orders, "Just ahead on your left."

It was a modest dwelling, designed much like some of the homes from her world only built more with the primitive makings of a cabin rather than the sound structure of a modern house. "Quaint," she said.

"Yes, it rather is. Nevertheless, that's where we are headed."

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it being quaint." Something in his tone gave her the distinct impression that he thought she was somehow disenchanted with a home that wasn't made of sand or ice or the other spectacular castles in which she had stayed.

"I'm not saying that you are."

"But you had a tone."

"Does one's voice not always bear some tone milady, otherwise I would be mute or you would be deaf. The choice is yours." He knew the meaning of the accusation Sarah leveled at him, but Jareth had discovered how much fun toying with her was and he wasn't about to allow fun to pass him by.

"Your incorrigible, do you know that?"

"No, but hum a few bars for me and I'll join in for the chorus." Sarah glowered at him, daggers streaming from her eyes. "Now be polite or I won't introduce you to the nice folks inside." Without even noticing, Jareth had walked Sarah up to the front door of the dwelling. His gloved knuckles folded over the door knocker, lifted it several inches and brought it back to meet the metal plate below then lifted and dropped the weight two more times.

Shortly afterward a gentle looking older woman, who appeared to Sarah to be fey from what she had learned in her stay Underground, answered the door. "Jareth," she spoke quickly, in a warm voice. "You came. He said you would, said you'd been talking yesterday and that everything was... Let's not dwell on the yesterdays when we have so many tomorrows to look forward to. Am I right? I'm only glad to see you at our door. Your grandfather is waiting inside for you." With that the woman took the king into her arms. From behind Jareth, Sarah watched the woman's eyes close as she squeezed him tightly in her embrace. Moments later, she lifted her lids having grown uncomfortable with feelings of being watched. Sarah couldn't help but notice the woman's eyes were wet. "Heavens me, I hadn't realized you were bringing a guest."

"My name is Sarah," she introduced herself as she extended a hand to the woman.

Smiling at her, she left Jareth's hold and stood before the mortal, "Sarah Williams. The legend from Aboveground. It is an honor to make your acquaintance miss."

"I would say the same, but I have yet to make yours."

Chuckling softly, the older woman smiled before introducing herself. "I am Queen Gwendolyn, Jareth's great grandmother, but you can call me as he once did."

"Please don't mention these things," Jareth pleaded.

"Nanny grand." There you have it. "Don't you remember?" Her wrinkled hand pinched a roll of his cheek between forefinger and thumb. "Cute as Dickens this one was. Couldn't much figure out his family tree and that was no surprise given..."

"Given that I was not a very bright child."

"Like a cat's whiskers you weren't bright. Most curious little imp I've seen in some hundreds of years, since my boy was a boy." Jareth knew by the far away glint in her eye that it was not Darien to whom she referred. "I'd find him hiding in the most unusual places," she went on. "'Nanny grand,' he would call out. I'll give you to the count of ten to find me. 'Only ten?' I'd ask, making it seem like some horribly inadequate period of time. 'Oh, okay, for you thirteen.' Always thirteen. I'd turn my back for a bit and then go in search of him only to find him beneath the bed or tucked in a cupboard. After a time he got more creative. Shimming up the curtains and perching himself upon the curtain rods in complete silence until I would give up and cry out for him to show himself before I called his poppy."

"Poppy?" Sarah asked.

"My yes, that's how he called his great grandfather. Jareth loved mischief, but never at the expense of upsetting his poppy." Gwendolyn looked at the king admiringly, "Such a good boy you were."

"Were?" he asked.

"Are," she corrected. "You know I meant are, you are a good boy, who is forever welcome here." Gwendolyn turned back to Sarah, "Enough then, come in and meet my husband."

"Yes ma'am." Sarah received a stern look at the formality with which she had addressed the former queen. "I mean yes nanny grand."

As Jareth filed in behind the mortal, Gwendolyn tugged his flouncy sleeve, "Fine girl this one is Jareth. Fine indeed."

"Wait till you get to know her," he muttered.

Oberon was inside, sitting in his favorite easy chair, a fey stem hung from his lips beneath a thin white mustache and a full thick beard. "As I live and breathe, the legend in my own home," he remarked when he saw Sarah come through the door. "It is my honor, miss, to have you here with us. Welcome." The former king's wrinkled hands engulfed Sarah's dainty fingers. Right away she noticed the warmth which came from him.

"The first king of the Underground, the first queen," the mortal eyed them back and forth in amazement. "It is I who is honored to meet the two of you. I've seen, I mean heard so much about you."

"Lies," Oberon told her, "all lies." He laughed at his own joke. "Now have a seat and we'll set to evening the score. You can tell us all about you."

Gwendolyn poured them all some tea and the foursome sat around the family room and talked about Sarah's time thus far spent in the Underground. "But really, enough about me," Sarah objected. "I'd much rather hear about what it's like to be a royal."

Gwendolyn chuckled behind her frail fingers. "Lo that I could tell you dear." Sarah looked at her confused. She had been queen, had she not? "You see, I was but a maid when Oberon and I met." That's right, now Sarah remembered. Atofina had told her about how she had to train Gwendolyn. "That's the funniest thing, there's yet to be one true royal couple leading the Underground. I was a commoner, that made our children half commoner. Then Darien was made to marry a true royal and Jareth's mother was born three-quarters royal blood. The Triumvirate was very happy anticipating that she would marry a full blood and give the Underground the closest thing to a truly royal king it had ever seen, but alas..."

Quickly, Jareth jumped in to cut her off, "I was born to a common father." Gwendolyn looked at him puzzled. "My mother found herself in love with a man that the Triumvirate did not approve of. While they were too late to stop my mother, they've since altered their rules to be certain that I can never have the same kind of marriage she did." He wasn't ready to admit to her that he was part mortal. Although, the Triumvirate had long ago christened him fey and taken away his human soul to replace it with the one he now had, well mostly had, Jareth still experienced some human qualities. Retained qualities that were both a blessing and a curse, a handful of mortal emotions that sometimes got the better of him, a stronger tolerance to iron than most fey. He wondered if his residual mortality wasn't part of what made him love Sarah the way he did.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Gwendolyn asked surprised by his outburst.

"It's true mother," Oberon chimed in, confident he understood Jareth's hesitation. "They've rewritten the law so that a marriage like Leanan and Ian's could never happen again."

Finally the former queen caught on. "I see. Well all the other laws of the Underground have been broken, I'm sure it's just a matter of time before someone gets around to breaking that one too."