So KAGluvsINU pointed out something I didn't even realize. It's been over 10 years since I updated this story. I kept this in the back of my mind, always wanting to come back to it. In the course of the last ten years, my life has changed dramatically and I no longer live in the same place I did when I started writing this. To read this and look at my own life now is such a huge shock and a wonderful blessing I never thought I'd have.

So thank you KAGluvsINU.

The Goblin King staggered back, his knees shaking slightly and his head feeling lighter than he thought possible. He dove straight into the task of healing Sarah, unaware of anything else for hours as he tried to repair her damaged body. He had not stopped, could not stop until she was healed. With the utmost care he had healed the severe damage done to her womb and several other organs, but the damage was done. Sarah could never have children. The scarring and the damage were too severe, even with the aid of magic as strong and as old as the Labyrinth's.

Jareth looked at Sarah's face sadly. The bruising he did not have the strength to heal yet stared out at him, twisting her beautiful features into something not like Sarah. How she had not sustained any broken bones was beyond him. She had been lucky in that aspect.

He could not turn his gaze away from the bruise, nearly black now, reminding him he should have broken rules to see her, made sure she was ok. The Underground rules dictated he could not check in on her, not after his return. Yet, he was the Goblin King, son of Oberon. He should have at least tried to see her and make sure she was cared for! He slammed his fist down on his nightstand in frustration, not feeling the pain shooting up his arm.

Walking over to a pull rope, he pulled three times in rapid succession. Almost instantly, three short goblins came scurrying through his door to bow at his feet. They were no taller than his knees, all some variation of green and brown color but they wore no sign of servants clothing. They stayed in a bowed position, only daring to look at their exhausted king with shock written across their faces. They had never seen their king in such a state, clothing, though black, stained with blood and wrinkled, his normal lightly tanned skin was whitewash and there was danger in his eyes, more than there normally was. But the town and castle were in an uproar with all sorts of rumors flying about, so the servants were not too surprised. Just very curious as to what the true story was, and Goblin curiosity was always interesting.

Jareth addressed the first one, trying to act like his cool and dignified self despite his less than acceptable appearance. He did not have the energy to do more than stand there and appear regal. "Fetch the captain of my bodyguard." The first one bowed deeply again and rushed to fulfill his King's request. "Fetch the goblin girl from the kitchen and tell the seamstress to be ready with a wardrobe for a woman," Jareth spoke to the second Goblin. The second bowed and scampered off, only daring a very brief glance back over at Sarah's limp body. "Fetch hot water for my bath and herbal soaps for bruising."

The third Goblin looked slightly confused at his request. "But sire, can you not fill the tub yourself as you always do?"

"That was an order," Jareth growled. He put thought into action and the little Goblin fell through the floor and into the Bog of Eternal Stench. Jareth did not think the Goblin would find his action justifiable but the Goblin King was not one to be questioned, especially in the state of rage and exhaustion he was in.

He turned and pulled the rope once more. Another little Goblin entered, not getting half way through his bow before being barked at. "I don't care how many it takes you but fill my tub with hot water and herbal soap for bruises." The goblin turned to leave but stopped when Jareth spoke again. "And bring clean sheets for my bed." The Goblin bowed again before retreating out of the room.

A knock came from Jareth's door and he bade them in. A tall goblin entered, half a head higher than Jareth and equally as fierce entered the bedchamber. Horn Hammer was rightfully named for his hammer of steel and dragon horns he had collected himself. He was ruthless with every ounce of Goblin cunning and craftiness that made them such formidable opponents.

"Your Majesty," Horn Hammer spoke in his deep voice. He clasped his hand over his heart and bowed at the waist. His skin was dark green, almost black with sharp yellow eyes, a jagged mass of black hair cropped close to his head, and armor the same shade of dark green as his skin. "How can I be of service?"

Jareth nodded to his friend, before sitting down in one of the luxurious chairs adorning his room. He could no longer stand up, his body was protesting and demanding he rest. But plans had to be put in motion and they could not wait any longer. "Search through my bodyguard, find two of your best scouts, the stealthiest and alert you have. Prepare them to be sent to the Aboveground and to watch out for a mortal man. He will have to return to his dwellings sooner or later and I want to know what he does.

"Also weed through the troops, find the craftiest and the most able to play mind games. I will hand pick them from there. They will need to be prepared to go to the Aboveground as well.

"Call off the hunt for the Dwarf Hoggle and increase security around and in the castle. He will show up here soon enough. I will have a new assignment for you when you return."

The Goblin Captain nodded and saluted. "My King, know what I do not question your orders nor do I mind if you refuse to answer but my Goblin curiosity is peaked. Why are we scouting for a mortal man? Does he pose some sort of threat?"

Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose. Horn Hammer deserved an answer. There were no secrets between him and his Captain. Horn Hammer would also be able to quell most of the rumors flying through the castle. Jareth rose to his feet and swept aside the curtains and blankets hiding what lay on his bed. She was still wearing her blood soaked dress and the bruising was stark against her pale skin, even the ones covering her belly.

Horn Hammer visibly paled for a moment, something Jareth had rarely seen the Captain do, before rage took over his facial features. His hands clenched and unclenched, itching to reach back for his hammer and create some mayhem. "Mistress Sarah," he said, unable to take his eyes off of her. He turned to Jareth then bowed deeply. "I will have all the men you require and more. The men will be more than willing to go when they hear what this bastard did to our Mistress of the Labyrinth." As Horn Hammer left, the young Goblin woman slipped inside, just as Jareth covered Sarah back up.

"Your Grace," she said in a sweet voice as she curtsied for the King. She was a mid-height Goblin, going no higher than Jareth's waist with light brown skin and dark brown hair to match her dark eyes. She was thin but Jareth had no doubt she would be able to do the job presented to her.

"I need a hand maiden for Lady Sarah. Can I trust that you will be able to complete the task?" Jareth asked her.

"Yes, your Grace, I can," Fiona said, bowing again.

"Your first task is to the Royal Seamstress. Tell her I need a nightgown that is loose around the abdomen as soon as possible. Measurements will be taken later when she is up and able. Prepare the room across from mine and see that everything is as comfortable as possible. See that a collection of some of the best Aboveground written stories we have find their way onto the bookshelves too." Jareth spoke as he sat down once more, his body aching as he wondered if the Goblins were done with filling the bath yet.

Fiona curtsied then ran out of the room to do as she had been instructed. Jareth rose to his feet and opened the bathroom door to see if the Goblins were done. Steam poured out of the bathroom, hitting Jareth in the face. Jareth checked the water, finding it a comfortable temperature, perfect for cleaning the blood off of Sarah. He would not undress her completely; he may be cruel and manipulative but he stood by some semblance of principles. This was definitely not how he would see his love naked.

Jareth felt a ripple of magic as he stood over the bath. Knowing only one man who dared to enter the Goblin King's presence unannounced, Jareth dashed out of the bath chambers to Sarah. Unannounced visits were never a good thing, considering his timing, his visit was most likely a very bad thing.

Standing over the unconscious Sarah was a regal man, his own features and platinum blond hair were strikingly similar to those of the Goblin King. He stood a bit taller than Jareth, his eyes a dazzling shade of blue like Jareth's right eye, but where Jareth's clothes had some flash, Oberon's were cut for regality. He could've been made from marble the way his features were cut and indifferent to the outside world.

"Such a pity," Oberon's deep voice rumbled, though Jareth could detect no trace of actual pity in his father's voice. Jareth often wondered growing up if his father was even capable of feeling any emotion. So often it seemed not. "She isn't a terribly beautiful thing."

"Beauty is subjective," Jareth bit out. Oberon's frosty gaze looked over at his son before Jareth recognized his mistake. "My liege," he adds with a sneer.

A sigh escaped Oberon. "You are your mother's child," he repeated the tired phrase. "So quick to emotions." Jareth clenched his teeth and crossed his arms in front of him, tension rising up inside of him.

A sneer tightened the Goblin King's mouth. "What brings you to my humble kingdom, my liege?" His words were as tight as his muscles and dripping with false cheer. Jareth had never been one for lip service and it had never been something Oberon was ever able to drill into his head with any amount of honesty.

Oberon turned from the prone figure to face his son. His eyes were as flat as ever, but Jareth saw something in them that he'd never seen before. Curiosity. Good gods above, must everyone try to inquire about his business? "Rumors travel fast in the Underground."

"When has it not?" Jareth snapped.

"A human girl," Oberon tisked as he shook his head. Jareth wanted to rip every blond strand of his father's hair out of his head as it swung. His very presence infuriated the Goblin King. "Such a pity for you. They wither and die so quickly."

Jareth was sure he would strike his father. His hands itched and he was having a hard time finding a reason why the idea didn't have any solid merit other than to relieve some of Jareth's dark rage. "Spoken from experience, my liege?"

Oberon's expression darkened. It was subtle on such an impassive face, but Jareth knew the warning signs. There was a blur of motion and Jareth staggered back, clutching his reddening cheek from the backhand as blood filled his mouth. He'd depleted his magic on Sarah; he should've known Oberon would sense it and know when it was safe to strike. Jareth should've minded his words and not sent out that little barb.

But Jareth couldn't stop himself from sinking that little barb in. He never could pass any opportunity by to see his father react to anything.

"Mind your tongue," Oberon commanded. Cold magic tightened around Jareth like a second skin and Jareth bared his bloody teeth. "You forget your station."

"You forget yours," Jareth reminded. Dredges of magic, little weak tendrils coiled up from inside him and slipped between his father's magic and his own skin to encompass him in its security. "You are a guest in my kingdom. Here, your power is subjective to the Labyrinth and it's king."

Oberon's lip twitched. Jareth smiled in satisfaction. Some unseen force rumbled between the two magic wielders, an ancient force older than their bloodline and equally as powerful rose to remind them of their insignificance. Oberon's impassive features cracked in rage as Jareth's pulled up in a smirk. He'd won this round, and Oberon hated him for it.

"Begone, my liege, until you are summoned once more." Jareth's voice was as cold and as strong as ever, but it wasn't just words being spoken. Magic built those words, and Oberon was bound in the magic more ancient than him. His impassive features snarled as he winked out of the room, bound to obey a command issued by a lesser king than his own lofty station.

Once Oberon departed, Jareth stood still, tremors of unleashed anger threatening to consume him. The night was an intensely taxing one on his self-control. He wanted nothing more than to sit down and meditate, to rest from the exhausting task of healing magic, to carve up some human male. But there was no relief in sight yet.

Jareth looked to the ceiling and prayed to the Labyrinth for patience as he tried to just breathe. He was no used to Sarah if he couldn't remain calm. She needed him to be gentile and he couldn't do that if he couldn't control this rampant anger welling up inside of him.

When he felt in control once more, he turned to Sarah's limp form in the bed. He needed to make quick work of this. It was only a matter of time before she woke, and he didn't relish her waking up in a bath with him, even if they were both going to be dressed to some degree.

As dirty as it made Jareth feel, he checked to see if she wore any underthings before he grabbed a dagger from the bedside table. The blade made short work of the dress. Jareth tried not to look at her as he scooped her up as gingerly as possible. His control was holding by threads, and looking at the damage done to Sarah would test even the saintliest of creatures. She needed him in control now. He could waylay the monster later.

He didn't care if he ruined his clothing as he held her in the water, making sure to keep her head safely tucked into his shoulder as he let her soak in the medicinal properties of the water. The tiny little specs of magic left in him he used to keep the bath warm for her and tried to increase the potency of the healing. But it gave him plenty of time to reflect on his failings.

It also gave him time to plan.