The Thirteenth Rider

Ch. 25 Once Upon a Blue Moon – Beltane Redux

Warning: Sex, violence, etc...

Author's note: Here it is...the final chapter. I hope you enjoy it. As always, reviews will keep me writing (and I have two new ideas that I think you'll like).

Silently Luna began her assent, her usual pearlescent glow transformed with a pale blue shimmer that seemed to give her more of an ethereal appearance, so appropriate for tonight's journey. While she was starting the waning phase, she could feel the power pulsing through her, the very sky feeling electrified.

The Blue Moon. Beltane Night.

Yet, she had the feeling this had all happened before, as if in a dream.

With keen eyes she watched the dark figure stalking the parapet high above the Goblin Castle, biting winds tearing at his hair and cloak, while his black eyes over the preparations of the riders. Far below in the courtyard, goblins rushed about, dodging the vicious hooves of the black chargers. Some smeared dragons-blood oil upon the heated flanks and manes of the horses, while still others baited the hounds, until the wailing and baying of the hounds filled the air, like banshee screams.

She could see the Goblin King sneer as the haunting blast of the horn sounded, calling the riders forth. Yet his sneer was different somehow. Darker. Upon the Goblin King's fingertips swirled a clear crystal, the image of a girl shimmering within the glittering skin. Seeing him like this, Luna had to wonder if perhaps he planned to take a mortal from the hunt, as was his right upon this auspicious and dangerous moon. Glancing up at her, she saw him twirl his finger counter-clockwise and felt herself begin to sink back toward the horizon a fraction, before he laughed, the sound rich and dark as it swirled toward her carried on the wind.

That explained her feeling of having seen all this before. The Goblin King had been manipulating time and space – something which was always a portent of trouble.

As the wind howled and screamed around the towers of the castle, the Goblin King threw back his head and roared into the night, his cry blending with the excited cries of the hounds. Then he vanished, leaving behind only faint traces of silvery glitter, which were picked up by the winds and spun around in small cyclones of silver, before being whisked away into the ether.

Let the Wyld Hunt ride.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

If someone had told Nana Miller six weeks ago that by Beltane she would be sitting in her kitchen with the High King, drinking tea and playing scrabble with a small fox-like hobgoblin and a dwarf, while a large orange beast lay snoring in front of the fire, with Oscar asleep on his chest - she would have immediately rung for the hospital to have them booked into the psych ward. Yet, here she was on Beltane, doing just that. And blast it all, the little fox-goblin was winning (although she strongly suspected Finnavhar was letting him). Despite outward appearances, this was no social call. When Jareth had stormed out of the cottage in the late afternoon, Sarah's friends had arrived in the parlor not long after, bearing a letter with the Goblin King's seal of state upon it, set deep in the purple wax that shone with a faint shimmer of silver glitter.

Dearest Sarah…

As a precaution, I am magically sealing the cottage and sending your friends to act as further support for the Goblin Queen's Guard, who are currently secreted around the cottage and grounds. I implore you to stay within the walls of the cottage. Once the Hunt is released to their path, I will return to stand watch.

Always ~

Jareth

Sarah had read the note, then slammed her bedroom door, refusing to come out – it was all Nana Miller could do to convince the girl to at least accept a sandwich and a cup of tea.

The High King had shown up as the sun began its slow descent from the sky. To say Nana Miller was surprised would be an understatement. She had been starting dinner when he appeared without warning in the kitchen, startling her so badly that the rose print china cup of her mother's which she had been washing, slipped from her wet fingers to shatter upon the ceramic of the sink. With a wave of his hand, Finnavhar repaired the broken cup, sending it and the rest of the now magically cleaned dishes to their places in the cupboards.

"Forgive the sudden intrusion, daughter," he said, his usual booming voice subdued, though still carrying the undeniable force of his power and authority.

Nodding, Nana Miller walked to the small stove and lit the burner under the kettle. "I should have known ye'd be by, m'Lord King. Would ye care for a cuppa?"

The High King surveyed the old woman, his green eyes dark and pensive, then he nodded. "That would be lovely. Thank you," he replied, settling himself upon one of the old chairs surrounding the well-worn kitchen table. As she filled the old kettle with water, she inwardly marveled at how both he and his grandson could make any chair they sat in look like a throne, even the beat up old chairs of her kitchen table.

"As my grandson is required to at least start the Hunt this night, I thought I might keep watch over his bride," the High King said, spreading his large hands on the worn tabletop.

"The more the merrier, I suppose," the elderly woman sighed, as she glanced through into the parlor where Sarah's friends were keeping their own vigil.

"And where is Sarah?" the High King asked, taking note of the goblins lurking about the kitchen and the parlor.

With a wan smile, Nana Miller sat next to the King, her wrinkled hands folding restlessly on the scratched surface of the dining table. "She hasn't left her room today, Sire…not even when her friends arrived. She wouldn't even let them in to see her," she said, her frail hands twisting over each other in her misery. "I think she misses the bond she shared with the Goblin King, more than she cares to admit," she said, her voice cracking with worry.

The High King reached out and gently patted Nana Miller's hand. "She will feel the loss keenly, as does my grandson. Despite the curse and prophecy, I believe those two children were fated to be together," he said, giving her a gentle smile. "In the end, what is fated will always be. Worry not, daughter of Rhiannon. It will work out."

"How?" she asked with a sad sigh.

Finnavhar merely shrugged, giving her a quiet smile, "I know not, 'tis a mystery of the Ancients."

As the old metal kettle started to scream, Nana Miller got up and poured water into the battered tea pot, before bringing it and the teacups to the table. The two grandparents said nothing as they waited for the tea to steep, both listening to the odd silence that seemed to hang heavy in the air of the cottage.

"It isn't over yet…is it, m'Lord?" the old woman asked, her pale blue eyes piercing as they sought his.

Shaking his white head, Finnavhar sighed, "No, my child. Not yet." Within his heart he voiced the words he could not say to the old woman – 'But it will end…tonight. For better or worse.'

And that was how they ended up playing scrabble with the dwarf and hobgoblin – anything to avoid the terrible silence that hung oppressive and weighty over them, as if trying to suffocate any flame of hope.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

Any other night of the Hunt, Jareth would be relishing his present vantage point, perched atop the highest tower of the castle, one gloved hand gripping the crystalline spire, as the wind whipped him mercilessly, lashing any bit of exposed skin with biting ice shards. This…this… was one of the roles of the Goblin King that truly demonstrated the power of the throne.

And tonight his role was more powerful than ever, as the surge of magical forces surrounding the Blue Moon began to swirl around him, teasing and caressing his innate magic, rendering his very magic stronger than ever, but making the call of the Hunt impossible to resist.

It was this that had him unsettled and angry.

As the Thirteenth Rider, he felt the pull of the hunt keenly on special nights such as this. He felt it in his very blood, the call to ride – to race along the moors, hunting for an unsuspecting mortal.

Yet, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't give in to the siren song of the Hunt.

While he loved Sarah and wanted to honor his oat to watch over her until the Blue Moon left the sky, he felt with every bit of his being that he must run tonight, tearing through the portal to chase down any unwary mortal. He wanted it more than life itself at that moment. It was with incredible force of will that he resisted the urge, even as it caused him physical pain, the longing and desire to hunt. But, until the bond was set once more, Sarah was in danger and he would be damned if he was going to stand by and risk losing his queen. He steeled himself, peering once more into the crystal in his hand to see his Sarah curled upon her bed, safely sequestered within Miller's Mourning, a faded red bound book lying in her lap.

Manipulating time not only took an immense amount of power, but it always carried risks. In saving Sarah the night before, he had covered his tracks, so that only two Fae knew what he had done, but there had been ripple-on effects. For one, Beltane night was starting again and as a result of re-ordering time, he could feel that the innate magic of this night was stronger. If he hadn't been so concerned about Sarah's well-being and his own urges, he would find it amusing, knowing that the fertility rites that were the hallmark of this night would be even more successful – all kingdoms of the Underground and even those who observed the rite in the world Above, would find that their numbers would increase greatly in 9 months time.

As the last call of the Hunt horn sounded, the Goblin King glanced once more into the crystal, his eyes flashing red upon the shimmering exterior. He wanted to hunt, to run, to chase, victorious. But his victory would have to wait. For now, he had an oath to keep and a Queen to protect.

"One more night…" he muttered, his words swallowed by the screaming winds that swirled chaotically around him. One more night and he could rest easy. The Hunt would be over for a month, buying he and Sarah time to establish the bond, then fulfill the queen-making rite. One night. One month. And she would be queen. His queen.

The thought of her fully his queen, made his groin tighten almost painfully. He needed her. The Labyrinth needed her – nay, demanded her. No other would do. She was the magic he and his kingdom needed and he would move the very stars to see her in his bed, the Goblin Queen's seat of power.

But first things first, he had to release the riders.

Tossing the crystal into the air, he vanished before the wind popped it, reappearing instantaneously in the courtyard, surrounded by a circle of twelve dark riders, their mounts neighing, restless to run - and run they would.

"You have your path," the Thirteenth Rider snarled, his red eyes flickering with a feral darkness, as the riders nodded their agreement. "Through Midsummer Morrow, follow the path of the Lia Fail." When the riders had all saluted him with brief nods of their heads, Jareth grabbed the reigns of his great grey charger, the black leather twisting around his gloved hand with a satisfying creak. In one smooth leap, he pulled himself into Reylin's saddle and roared, "Riders….HUNT!"

The horses reared up, their hooves clattering loudly against the cobblestones as the riders turned and charged out the gates of the castle toward the portal upon the hill, with Jareth racing along behind them. He watched as they raced through the portal, disappearing into the mysts that led to the hunting path, all except one rider who hung back, turning to look at Jareth. Slowly the rider lifted their hood back, revealing features that bore an eerie resemblance to his own - sharp aquiline cheek bones, jutting out beneath crystal blue eyes that momentarily flashed red. The rider's lips twisted into a dark smirk, so characteristic of his own.

Jareth knew that face.

"Luc!" he snarled angrily, digging his heels into Reylin's sides and urging his horse faster. "You don't belong here."

The other rider merely sneered, his white blonde hair blowing around his face as he laughed. "Brother," he hissed, his eyes glowing deep red as he turned toward the portal, calling over his shoulder. "I won my place courtesy of my foster father. There is nothing you can do to save her now."

Seeing Luc race for the portal, Jareth's eyes darkened, crystals forming unbidden in his free hand. Flinging them at Luc in rapid fire shots, the Goblin King charged after him, snarling as the crystals found their mark, their sharp shards shattering against the portal border and the back of Luc's cloak, but failing to penetrate the ethereal material.

"She…is…MINE!" Jareth roared as he neared the portal, his leather cloak snapping behind him. Reylin's heavy hooves left deep divots in the soft ground with each thundering step, horse and Master straining forward as if one beast.

"Not for long," Luc called out, pausing just inside the portal to glare at the Goblin King, his twisted smile at once victorious and vicious. "I call the right of Cymhell upon the mortal Sarah Williams. She will be mine!" With those parting words he spurred his horse on, lashing it with a sleek whip as the horse shot forward, the mysts swirling around them until they vanished within.

Jareth's heart clenched at Luc's words. As the Thirteenth Rider, there was nothing Jareth could do. Whether he liked it or not, Luc had come by his position in the Hunt legally, and by the law of the Hunt he was entitled to claim the right of Cymhell upon Sarah – and Jareth was duty bound to uphold the rules of the hunt and Blue Moon, which allowed any rider could declare their intent to force a mortal to join the hunt – as the prey. Jareth clenched his teeth as he charged toward the portal. Seeing Luc race through the swirling mists made Jareth's blood run cold. He was going to lose Sarah and there was little he could do to stop it.

Breeching the portal gate, he heard a strange chiming sound ringing from within just as Reylin charged into the mysts. Enveloped by the mysts between worlds, Jareth urged Reylin to gallop faster, the horse's heated breath coming in great pants. A feral growl echoed within the mysts, the sound seeming to surround him as he galloped toward the portal to the human world. Without warning something heavy hit him broadside, knocking him off Reylin, his body flying through the air to land hard upon the rocky ground. His surprised grunt was cut short by a pained bellow, as a great beast snarled and sunk its teeth deeply into his shoulder. The serrated teeth easily pierced through the heavy leather shoulder spaulders of Jareth's armor. As the beast's jaw tightened, Jareth felt an icy sensation creeping into the wound and gasped in agony.

Despite the common human belief, Fae were not immortal, they merely lived incredibly long lives. In fact, aside from iron weapons, there was only one other way that a Fae could be killed, and that beast was currently grinding its wickedly sharp teeth into Jareth's shoulder, each bite sending another burst of icy pain through his veins. A puinseanach – venomous nightmare from the Outlands, one of the only beasts who could kill a Fae, had its teeth deep in his shoulder and unfortunately for Jareth, the stronger the Fae's magic, the more excruciating the death would be.

He'd often wondered if he would die at the hands of another Fae or merely wander off into the Veils when he grew bored of life. Now he know how his life would end.

And the Goblin King was pissed.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

With a triumphant sneer, Luc burst forth from the Aboveground portal behind the small abbey, his warhorse kicking up great clumps of dirt and grass as he galloped along the path that led nearly to the front door of Miller's Mourning.

"I'll give them something to truly mourn when I take the last hope for the Williams clan and my brother," he spat, a wicked laugh echoing around him as he deftly leapt from the back of his horse before it had even stopped at the cottage gate.

The wind howled around the small cottage, violently shaking the early spring flowers, until a cascade of blue, purple and white petals rained down from the arbor. He stood in front of the gate, glaring at the cheery yellow cottage that held his prize, then closed his eyes, when he opened them again they glowed red.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

Jareth roared as the puinseanach tightened its hold on his shoulder, latching onto a new spot and sending the icy tendrils of thick black venom into his body. With an enraged snarl, the Goblin King grabbed the beast's throat, wrenching its mouth away from him. A burst of pain shot through him as he felt the its teeth tearing the flesh of his shoulder, a flood of warmth rolling down the front of his breastplate, followed by an icy sting from the wound itself. Jareth's gloved hand tightened around the beast's throat, squeezing as he rolled the hairy creature off his body. In the dim light of the mysts he finally got a look at the beast that had attacked him, killed his minion and attempted to kill his queen. Its eyes were black and staring, a look of pure feral blood lust filling them. The puinseanach had needle-like, serrated teeth. Under different circumstances, Jareth might have admired the creature as an evolutionary masterpiece, perfect not only to pierce its prey, but to infect them with its venom; however that this moment, he just wanted to rip its heart out.

As the icy sting of the venom seeped deeper through his veins, the Goblin King spun a blood red crystal into his free hand then slammed it into the eye of the puinseanach. The creature's outraged squeal of pain echoed through the mists, as it lunged for Jareth's throat. Rearing back to avoid the slavering jaws, Jareth's hold on the beast faltered just long enough for the puinseanach to graze a single fang across the unprotected skin above his gorget. The Goblin King snarled at the sudden pain, then hissed, his eyes seeming to glow and turn black as he glared at the creature, "Sêl farwolaeth!"

The puinseanach stiffened and shuddered, its body contorting as every muscle seemed contract at once, its one good eye widening in surprise, before glazing over as death overtook the beast.

Panting, Jareth let go of the hairy throat, sitting back on his heels. He could feel the hot trickle of blood oozing down his neck, dripping inside the metal of the gorget, the sensation made all the more terrible by the icy feel of the venom taking hold. Jareth felt the frigid sting seeping deeper within his body as he pulled himself to his feet, his face contorted in pain. Puinseanach venom was not a fast death, although the agony of it was enough to push many a Fae to taking what was left of their life. The Goblin King clutched his chest as the first of the venom reached his heart, an icy chill settling within him. Clenching his teeth, he whistled for Reylin. He didn't have much time before the pain would incapacitate him, he had to get to Sarah.

Reylin nudged his Master's elbow with a low whinny, his eyes soft and grey. Sensing the pain his Master was in, the horse dropped low upon his forelegs, easing Jareth's climb. Once he felt the steady weight of the Goblin King atop him, Reylin turned without bidding toward the portal and began to charge for the Aboveground, his body swallowed within the swirling purple and black mists.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

As the clock on the mantel struck 9, an eerie silence surrounded the small yellow cottage. The wind that had been screaming and howling all evening fell silent, leaving an otherworldly chill in the air. Both Finnavhar and Nana Miller looked up as one, their eyes locked on the kitchen door. Rising from his chair, Sir Didiymus's hand fell to the hilt of his sword as he assumed a stance of readiness next to the High King. For his part, Hoggle toyed with the plastic bracelet of Sarah's that he still wore around his chubby wrist, while Ludo gave a low, plainitive moan from the doorway between the parlor and the kitchen.

"It begins," muttered the High King.

The walls of the small cottage shook, as a booming voice outside sounded, "Rwy'n gorchymyn i ti ... dod i mi, Sarah!" In the next instant a blast of Fae magic hit the house, sizzling and crackling against the shields that Jareth had placed upon the property and inhabitants. Nanna cringed, her fingers tightening into her faded apron, while Finnavhar tensed, his green eyes turning grey as he stared intently at the door, holding his breath to see if the shield held. The little cottage seemed to shiver as the destructive magic slid down the barrier, fizzling into the ground outside. Breathing a sigh of relief, Nana glanced at the High King, keenly aware that he had not relaxed.

"I, Lucan ap Lucanus, rightful heir to the throne of the wrongfully deposed King of the Goblins, Lucan ap Finnavhar claim the right of cymhell upon Sarah Williams, cursed daughter of the line of Rhiannon!" Lucan bellowed from the arbor gate, the very foundations of the cottage shaking in response to his claim.

Finnavhar muttered under his breath, his eyes falling shut as he shook his head. "Hurry boy…before you lose her," he whispered more to himself than Nana, who looked confused, then alarmed as the stairs creaked above their heads.

Moving slowly, Sarah glided down the stairs, her green eyes glazed and unfocused, the linen nightgown Jareth had left her in, twining around her lithe legs with each step. Silent footfalls carried her into the kitchen, her vacant expression unaware of the horrified look from her grandmother. Nanna Miller rushed toward Sarah, reaching for her. At the same moment Finnavhar stood, "Daughter don't!" he murmured, a second too late. As Nana's hand descended to grasp Sarah's arm, a flash of red flared around the girl, throwing the old woman across the kitchen, to slam against the antique pie cupboard hard enough to crack the wooden door straight down the center. Finnavhar rushed to Nana, stooping to assess her injuries, as Sarah continued her silent footsteps toward the kitchen door. When she neared the door it swung open for her without aid, a supernatural wind rushing into the kitchen, howling while the curtains flapped wildly, looking for all the world like a screaming bean sidhe.

With the wounded woman in his arms, Finnavhar watched in despair, a mob of goblins surrounding his legs, as Sarah crossed the threshold of the cottage and out into the garden, past the protective barrier Jareth had erected. The barrier held against the onslaught of unseelie magic Lucan's very presence unleashed, but there was one thing that the barrier could not prevent – the Right of Cymhell.

"Hurry Jarethkintan," the High King murmured, the words an emotional plea to the Ancients. He watched helplessly as the young woman he would have as one of his own line, the beloved of the Goblin King, walked out into the dark of the evening.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

Once upon a time, a wise little dwarf had given Sarah a very good bit of advice – "Don't take anything forgranted." As she felt herself silently gliding through the house and out the cottage door, Sarah was struck by the irony of things. To an outward observer, she was sure that she looked calm and disinterested in what she was doing, when in reality, nothing could be further from the truth. She had heard Lucan bellow from outside the cottage, and cringed, gripping the covers of her bed more tightly as she fervently hoped Jareth would keep his promise and return to protect her. Then with Lucan's next words, she felt her body go almost numb, an odd feeling of being outside of herself, while trapped deep inside, coming over her. She felt herself stand and begin to move toward the stairs, knowing that she was being pulled to go to him. Screaming inwardly, she fought against the feeling of being a puppet, recognizing it as the unsettling feeling she had experienced at the Beltane Festival, when Lucan was controlling her. As she passed through the kitchen, she cried out in her head to the High King, begging him to save her, but no word escaped her lips. Sarah wondered why he didn't seem to do anything, before her attention was jarred by her grandmother trying to touch her, then being violently thrown away from her. Her heart ached at the pained moan Nana gave, as she lay crumbled on the floor, with Finnavhar rushing to help her.

Yet still she was compelled to walk out of the safety of the cottage.

She felt the cool spring grass under her feet, each step carrying her closer to the garden gate. Lucan stood outside the arbor gate, a heavy black cloak swirling and flapping around him. As he glared at her, she could feel the anger and hate pouring off him, his red eyes glowing against his pale skin. The thought of what he would do to her terrified her, all the while her mind fought the compulsion to go to him. When she reached the arbor gate it swung open. She managed to fight the spell for a split second at the gate, pausing, her eyes shutting tight as she struggled to resist the force in her legs that was pulling her forward. Nearly stumbling, her foot moved of it's own accord, forcing her out of the garden gate and one step closer to a fate she didn't want to contemplate. With a last mighty burst of sheer will and stubbornness, Sarah managed to overpower Lucan's spell, stopping just out of his reach. In that moment, time seemed to still as she took a searing breath, deep into her lungs and screamed for all she was worth, "JARETH!"

Lucan snarled, reaching to grab her hair, only to miss as an enraged roar echoed across the moor. The fog in Sarah's head melted away as Lucan's focus was shattered. Looking up she saw Jareth emerge from thin air upon the hill above the cottage, a glowing black sword in his hand. His face twisted in fury, he charged down the hill on a large black horse, the two of them moving as one powerful beast, the flapping of his leather cloak seeming to give them both supernatural wings. Regaining himself, Lucan made another grab for her, only to bellow angrily when a shimmering blue crystal appeared around Sarah.

"No!" he growled, firing crystals at the bubble encasing Sarah, then glaring furiously at Jareth as he drew near. "Naughty, naughty, brother," he sneared. "Your Unseelie roots are showing – you're cheating!"

Upon reaching the arbor gate, Jareth's horse reared upward, its red eyes flashing wildly as hit snorted. With a rage-filled snarl, Jareth swung his glowing blade at Lucan. "She is MINE!" he roared at Lucan. The clang of metal filled the air, as Lucan parried, then lunged for Jareth, his own blade hissing with magic.

"Cymhell, dear brother," Lucan snapped, twisting to avoid another blow from Jareth. "The wench must run." Jareth gasped, his eyes flashing white as he shuddered violently, black threads creeping up the visible skin of his neck and across his cheek. "Too bad you won't be here to give chase," Lucan laughed, taking advantage of Jareth's pain to swing at him, his blade connecting with an electric hiss against the black dragon hide armor on Jareth's arm, slicing through it as though it were nothing. Crimson flowed down Jareth's arm, running in dark rivulets over the back dragon hide armor. Sarah's eyes widened as she watched the creeping lines of black move up the side of the Jareth's face, turning his right eye completely black. "From the looks of things, my pet's venom is doing its work rather expediently. And so is my sword. One must love the elegance of Unseelie weapons," he purred, raising the blade to his mouth and licking his brother's blood from the glowing surface. "You haven't got long for this world – or any other."

With a pained growl, Jareth found renewed strength, firing a barrage of blood red crystals from his injured hand, as he twisted sharply, landing a vicious blow across Lucan's thigh; the effort of the blow and the magical weaponry taking a visible toll on him, as his eyes turned full white, his skin turning a faded grey color. Sarah screamed, fighting to get out of the bubble that held her, the sight of Jareth clearly dying spurring her to claw wildly at the shimmering crystal skin.

"Release her from the bubble," Lucan hissed, moving to strike Jareth again. A blue flash arced across the yard, halting Lucan's blade as he roared, his magic flaring to push through the swing.

Seeing an opening, Jareth turned, lunging for Lucan and catching him across his unprotected side, an enraged roar from both brothers echoing in the moonlight. "It's not mine!" Jareth grunted, another pained shiver running through him as the poison advanced, the roots of his fine blonde hair turning pitch black.

"It's mine," came a voice from the garden gate.

Three sets of eyes turned toward the newcomer to the fray, to find Diantha standing in the cottage garden, a picture of terrifying beauty in blood red goblin armor, set over a black dragon scale breastplate and harpy feather skirt, which encased her body as a second skin. Her once dark hair was streaked with pure white, and whipped around her head like a mass of writhing snakes.

"You're….you're dead," Lucan protested, distracted by the sight of the fearsome Goblin Queen, a sight no one in a century had seen.

A deep blue crystal hovered over Diantha's palm as she glared at Lucan with cold, grey eyes, a maliciously amused smile curling the corner of her mouth. Seeing that Sarah had the fleeting thought – 'I see where Jareth gets it, now,' before shivering when Diantha spoke. "You should have given up when you had the chance," Diantha purred, the sound icy and without a hint of pity. "What the Fates have set in motion, no mere Fae can circumvent."

With an angry growl, Lucan sneered, "I'm no ordinary Fae!"

"Oh…but you are, dear boy… after all, you've been stymied by a mere wraith with no physical body and weak magic," she laughed, the sound hollow.

Lucan frowned, his eyes fading from red to black in his confusion. "What?" he managed to get out, as, the magic bubble around Sarah began to fade, a spider-web of fine cracks spreading across its surface.

Sarah was startled from her own surprise at seeing Diantha, by hearing both Diantha and Jareth scream at her as one – "RUN!" With that the bubble around her shattered, falling to the ground in delicate shards that turned to dust as soon as they hit the grass. Before Lucan could recover from his own shock, Sarah took off, her bare feet slapping against the grass as she ran.

"NO!" he roared, moving to give chase, only to be blindsided with a crystal. Diantha hurled the vibrant blue crystal into which she had been channeling what little magic she had left, shattering it against his chest, shimmering as he and his horse froze, locked in that one moment in time. Once the crystal impacted, Diantha collapsed, the effort of tapping into the last of her magical energy exhausting her. Raising her head weakly, she looked at Jareth, her grey eyes fading fast. "Catch her, son. I don't know how long my magic will hold him," she said, her words faint, like a gentle wind through spring leaves.

While he was devastated seeing his beloved mother like this, Jareth couldn't risk Lucan catching Sarah. Cymhell merely meant she could be forced to run, but it didn't guarantee that the one who invoked the right of Cymhell wouldn't have competition for his chosen prey. With a pained grunt, Jareth turned his horse and gave it a swift dig in the ribs with his boots, charging after Sarah. With her last bit of strength, Diantha closed her eyes, her voice echoing quietly in Sarah's head. "Run for the Singing Stanes daughter…." then she fainted, her wraithlike body fading from view until it was if she had never been there at all.

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Jareth groaned in agony and fear, knowing that if he didn't catch Sarah quickly and return to the High Court soon, he wouldn't survive to make her queen. He could feel the poison sliding further through his body, and icy wire that threaded itself deeper into his heart. The hand on Reylin's reigns spasmed, the brackish venom settling within the muscle fibers. With a low growl, he pulled from Reylin's magic, forcing it into his own body in an effort to combat the poison. It was a long shot, but at that moment in time, it made since to fight beastly dark magic with beastly light magic – afterall, what did he have to lose?

Everything – whispered his heart and soul.

Seeing a flash of white linen turn from the Abbey path toward the Singing Stanes, Jareth leaned low over Reylin, whispering soft enchantments as he turned the charger toward the back path to the Stanes and hoped with everything he had left that he would get to her in time. The sound of hoofbeats thundered behind him and he felt his heart drop, knowing that his mother's magic had crumbled, releasing Lucan to hunt Sarah.

"She…is…mine," Jareth snarled, his white eyes flashing red once more as the magical energy from Reylin seemed to hold off the advancing claws of icy death.

As if feeling his Master's returning strength, Reylin snorted, a new burst of speed propelling him toward the Singing Stanes and Sarah.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

Icy breath hissed in and out of her lungs as Sarah ran toward the hidden entrance to the Labyrinth secreted behind the altar of the Abbey. Her mind and heart frozen by terror, she focused on getting to the Labyrinth, while the cacophony of bodily pains and aches from her run seemed to form a background roar in her head. With each step, her feet stung and throbbed painfully from the force of slamming into the dirt repeatedly. But still she ran. Sharp twigs tore at her nightgown, punctuating the sound of her heaving breathes and slapping feet with the tearing of fabric, and gasps of pain as the twigs and pointed branches left bleeding scratches down her arms and legs.

Sarah gave a strangled sob as she hear hoofbeats gaining on her and realized she wasn't going to make it to the Abbey. In a decision that made in the space of a neuron impulse, she changed direction, racing for the Singing Stanes hill and praying to every God and Goddess in earshot that the Labyrinth would feel her panic and help her once more.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

Rage coursed through Lucan as he realized he had been tricked, by the wraith-like Goblin Queen. Unable to move, he watched as she collapsed and disappeared from sight, while Jareth, clearly under the effect of the puseanach's venom charged after her. His rage turned to a feeling of victory a moment later as he felt the magical hold start to weaken. Growling inwardly, he focused upon pushing his own magic against the hold, a wicked sneer curling his lips as he felt it start to give. 'Stupid bitch,' he thought, feeling the hold on his head crack and dissolve. A moment later the rest of her enchantment failed, leaving him free to chase the girl. Free to catch her and to take her. With a furious roar, the turned his horse toward the sound of the hoofbeats echoing from the Singing Stanes. A wicked grin spread across his face, his red eyes flashing wildly as he realized where the silly girl was heading. What better place to take the innocence from the wench, than in the middle of the sacred singing stanes. A wicked laugh echoed around him as he raced toward the stanes. He would catch her there and use her unwilling body. Then, once the power of the Goblin King's throne was his he'd kill her – painting the sacred stones red with her warm blood.

In the end, it always comes down to the blood.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

Frantically running along the moor path, Sarah's breath came in painful bursts, as she ran toward the Singing Stanes. Upon reaching the base of the Stanes path, she turned to follow it up toward the top of hill, her frantic steps increases as the sound of hoofbeats echoed loudly behind her. "Pleasepleaseplease," she murmured like a mantra, her lungs burning with each breath. Reaching the top, she lunged for what she hoped would be the safety of the Singing Stanes, only to cry out sharply, as a hard blow from behind knocked her to the ground, forcing what little breath she had from her lungs and making her see stars behind her clenched eyes.

"Not…so fast…wench," she heard Lucan snarl.

Her eyes opened wide as she scrabbled backward across the cool grass. "No….not you…" she gasped, glancing wildly around for Jareth.

"Don't bother looking for the imposter," Lucan laughed, the sound low and venomous as he gracefully swung down from his mount, to stalk after her, his black hood framing red eyes that glowed ominiously within the cowl. "He's can't save you anymore. In fact, he won't be doing much of anything anymore. Death is funny like that," he chuckled, then reached down grabbing Sarah by the hair, forcing a scream from her throat as he jerked her toward him.

She felt as if someone had stabbed her in the chest at the news, her heart seeming to freeze inside her, while an icy pall slide through her veins. "No…" she moaned, the ache of her heart seeming to overwhelm her.

Lucan merely laughed, taking advantage of her momentary grief. He reached down with his other hand, viciously grabbing the front of her nightdress and ripping it down the center, relishing the easy way the fine linen tore from collar to hem in one sharp pull on the material. "Now then…wench…it's time…to give up the power you took from Jareth," he sneered.

Feeling the cold air swirling around her bare flesh, forced Sarah from her frozen state and something new took hold of her – Rage. Lucan killed Jareth. Killed her beloved. Her Goblin King. She felt something seem to snap inside her as she fought back against Lucan's hold.

"I'll kill you!" she screamed, clawing at his face and drawing a pained hiss from the angry Fae, his cowl being knocked back to reveal the aquiline features so similar to Jareth's, now bearing bleeding grooves down his cheek. "You will never be the Goblin King!"

The hand in her hair tightened as he shoved her to the ground, his own knees parting hers wide, leather gloved fingers thrusting roughly into her as she shouted obscenities and threats at him. He ignored the scratching and clawing of her hands, focused only the prize that was so close at hand. "Tight… how lovely. The blood will be a nice touch," he laughed, thrusting his fingers into her again as she struggled and squeaked in pain.

Reveling in the anger and fear in her eyes, he didn't hear the thudding of approaching hoofbeats until he heard a supernatural voice snarl, "Sêl far…"

Without a moments hesitation, Lucan threw out his hand, a blast of black energy shooting from it. The force of the blast knocked Jareth from his horse, flinging him away from the Singing Stanes. "Just die already," Lucan growled, not stopping his onslaught on Sarah's tender flesh with his fingers.

"You first," Jareth hissed, his eyes flashing red ringed with black as he advanced through an opening in the stones, his obsidian blade in hand, the crimson magic seeming to drip and spark from it. The moment the Goblin King set foot within the Singing Stanes, they seemed to burst to life, a preternatural humming sound surrounding the three of them, as if the Goblin King's very presence fed the magical energy of the sacred place. "You will not desecrate this holy space with the blood of my betrothed," the Goblin King roared.

"Why not?" Lucan asked, dropping a crystal on Sarah and binding her in heavy cuffs to the very ground in the center of the stones. "Your father did the same with your mother."

At that, Jareth snarled and lunged at Lucan, his sword snapping and crackling through the air in a vicious arc. With a grunt Lucan dodged the blow, Jareth's blade sinking into the grass where Lucan had been kneeling.

Rolling to his feet, Lucan's red blade glowed in the moonlight. "Temper, temptr, brother dear. Didn't you learn anything from our father? Even I learned never to let anger overrule tactics," he chuckled darkly, then swung the curving blade toward Jareth.

Grunts and curses rent the air as the two brothers fought. Sarah squeaked as the two began a furious barrage of blows, the sound of clanging metal and crackling magic filling the Singing Stanes. She gasped as Lucan caught Jareth with a wicked blow across his chest, splitting the Goblin King's breastplate. "Jareth no!" she screamed, watching in horror as Jareth shrugged the broken breastplate from his body, then charged at Lucan again.

She was so horrified by Jareth's actions, she didn't notice when the cuffs binding her faded away. A moment later she felt a gentle caress along her wrist, startling her. Turning her head she saw three glowing blue orbs, floating near her hand and heard soft voices whispering in her head. "Follow us…Queen…Follow…hurry…time…time…not much," the voices murmured. "Show you…yes…show you…we will….hurry…Queen."

Gasping, she rolled to her knees, then lifted herself as to her feet. Her eyes searched the area for something, anything she could use to help Jareth. As if reading her mind the whispered voices returned, "No…no….help him yes….not here… Save the king…yes…yes…come…hurry…time runs…" the voices murmured over each other.

"Diantha?" she whispered, fighting the urge to rush to Jareth's side, despite knowing there was nothing she could realistically do to help him. The orbs began to hum and bounce again, their blue glow flashing more intensely as if excited.

"Yes…yes… show you…follow us…no time…must come… yes yes…Queen…save King…with us… ," the voices murmured in her head again.

Without another thought, Sarah turned to follow them, her feet slapping against the worn dirt trail leading down the other side of the hill and around to the base. Running around the side of the hill, she felt a ripple of magic, as if she had run through a magical wall. She knew this style of magic, she had felt it once before, when the Labyrinth saved her from the blood wraith. Panting, Sarah forced herself to find some measure of strength, running faster along the path after the shimmering blue orbs, which bounced and hummed, always just a bit ahead of her. She was so close to something, she could feel it. Surely Diantha or the Labyrinth would offer her sanctuary. Sarah moaned as she heard a pained roar she recognized as Jareth, pausing for a moment to look back toward the top of the hill, only to have the orbs bounce frantically around her. "No…no…must come…no time…come…follow…" the voices entreated in a ghostly chorus. With a sob, she continued on.

The blue orbs stopped at a broken down arch of stone set into the base of the hill, shimmering as they danced and bobbed. "Come…come…hurry…Queen," they hummed in Sarah's mind. As she neared the doorway, one by one the blue orbs flitted into the door, illuminating the dark hall inside.

Sarah didn't have long to contemplate the sanity of following the little glowing balls of light, as she heard the sounds of fighting stop and a single set of running footsteps, coming down the path from the Singing Stanes.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

Roaring in pain, Jareth crumbled to the ground, cradling his wounded shoulder. The poison made his movements sluggish and in a split second hesitation, Lucan caught him with the heavy crimson sword, the enchanted metal digging deep as it split the skin and nicked bone in a shattering blow. Jareth gasped for air, the pain taking his breath away until his every fiber was focused on the burning sensation in his shoulder. The Lucan ripped the vicious blade free of the torn flesh, making Jareth howl in agony as thick rivers of red coursed down the front of Jareth's chest, the crimson stain spreading easily through the silk.

"Kindly die, brother," Lucan snarled, kicking Jareth in the shoulder, the force opening the wound even further, exposing severed muscle, sliced tendons and white bone. Blood poured from the gaping hole, pooling darkly upon the grass inside the Singing Stanes, sticky and warm. "I have a Queen to rape and you have gotten in the way too many times already."

Feeling his life force fading from him, Jareth groaned. His eyes slowly shifted from glowing red to a dull, grey, barely aware of the moment when Lucan turned and started to run down the path leading away from the sacred stones. The Goblin King laid on the cool grass, struggling to breathe, each labored movement causing more blood to pour from the open maw of the Wound. Inside, he felt his heart breaking, knowing he could not save Sarah. Lucan would have her. It was over.

As he laid there, staring up at the moon, feeling his heart start to falter and slow, he smiled slightly as four blue glowing orbs began to float in front of his face. Will'o'the'wisps, he thought, feeling strangely comforted by the idea that his final moments would not be without some form of magic, even if it was not his own. Jareth saw flashes of himself as a small child watching his mother call the wisps to play hide and seek with him in the ancient halls of the Goblin'Ha – the Goblin Queen's Court. Closing his eyes, he basked in the happy memory, not seeing the gentle wisps sinking toward his shoulder. It wasn't until he felt a gentle tickling sensation in the wound, and the pain eased, that he opened his eyes again to watch as two of the wisps fully settled into the wound, their blue glow suffusing his skin.

"King….king…king…must save…Queen," the wisps purred in his head.

Slowly he felt the ache in his shoulder lessen, as the bleeding slowed to a trickle. Feeling more strength returning, Jareth sat up slowly, pulling his gloves off his hands and looking at them. The skin over his hands was a mass of black lines where the puseanach venom was still working through his system, but the magic of the wisps seemed to have slowed the progress. It may not have healed him fully, but it bought him time – time enough to save Sarah – he hoped.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

"Pleasepleasepleaseplease," she gasped, lunging for what she hoped would be safety within the darkened hall of the mound. "Jareth…live…please" she sobbed as she followed the orbs into the darkened hall, broken and chipped stones cutting into her tender feet with each step, making her stumble. "Close now…come…Queen…follow…" the voices whispered, the panicked sound of their words mirroring the rising panic Sarah felt as the sound of booted footsteps echoed loudly in the passageway. Sarah whimpered as her arm slammed into the corner of a stone wall, sending jolts of electric pain through her body. Turning to follow the orbs, she felt the faint sensation of Labyrinthian magic as it seemed to ripple through the very ground and walls of the mound.

"Here…here…Queen… yes…Long life….the quuuuuuueeeeeeennnn," the voices whispered triumphantly as they bounced through another doorway.

With no options left, Sarah followed them, into a large round room. A room she recognized from the dream where she was attacked. Slowly she circled around the room, approaching the large stone throne in the middle of the room. As she touched it, the very stones seemed to hum, a slow blue glow shimmering along the walls of the room, until the room was suffused with a gentle light.

Hearing the sound of footsteps in the passages, Sarah cringed, crouching behind the throne. From the hall she heard the footsteps stop, then the sound of Lucan cursing. A moment later the footsteps started again, seeming to head away from the circular room. Curious, she peeked over the edge of the throne to discover that the walls of the room had shifted, removing the door.

"Just like…the Labyrinth," she whispered in awe.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

Gritting his teeth, Jareth pulled himself to his feet and started down the path toward the base of the Singing Stanes, the glittering blue orbs bouncing excitedly along the path in front of him. When he reached the doorway in the base of the hill, a slow smile crept across his face, reading the engraved words carved in the archway – Hall an Banriona Goblin, known locally as the Goblin'Ha, but more formally known by the Fae as the Hall of the Goblin Queen. There was magic afoot here, clearly of the Labyrinth and his mother, judging from the excitable wisps still dancing and humming around him.

"Come…come… Queen awaits…" the wisps purred within his head.

Crossing the threshold of the Goblin'Ha, Jareth snapped his fingers and a glowing white crystal appeared, floating several feet in front of him as he made his way down the hall. Since Diantha disappeared the Goblin'Ha had fallen into disrepair, since without a queen, there was no need for a queen's court. The walls and floors were cracked and dusty with disuse, thick layers of grey dust and cobwebs coating the stone. Running his fingertips lightly along a crack in the wall, he felt the magic of the Labyrinth respond to his presence and his smile twisted. Judging from the snarling and cursing, Jareth suspected that the Goblin'Ha was acting to protect Sarah, shifting her walls to force Lucan away from wherever she was hiding – And Jareth had a pretty good idea where she would be found. Lucan may think he had the upper hand, but this was the Goblin'Ha, an extension of the Goblin Kingdom and Labyrinth that existed in both planes, the Underground and Aboveground. If anyone was going to find the Goblin Queen, it would be the Goblin King.

Still smiling, he turned, moving away from the cursing of Lucan, as his angry words drifted down the halls. The glowing wisps bounced and danced around his own floating crystal, leading him toward his beloved, of that he was sure.

Jareth growled softly as the magic of the full moon, seemed to meld with his innate power and the magic of the Goblin'Ha. The Wyld Hunt was calling him back, to hunt and conquer. And by the right of Cymhell, Sarah would be his. Forever.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

Sarah could hear Lucan cursing, the sound carried faintly into the throne room, her breathing slowing in relief as she realized he was moving further away from her. Slumping into the stone throne, she allowed herself to think of Jareth, the pain of his death squeezing her heart until she thought she would suffocate. Warm tears flowed over her cheeks, as she buried her face her in her hands. Too late…I waited too late… she thought as she sobbed. I loved him…and he's gone…dead.

Hearing the heavy grinding of stone upon stone, she swiped the back of her hand across her wet eyes and looked up, cringing back against the cool stones of the throne as a doorway appeared in the wall. She could hear the sound of footsteps coming up the passageway toward her. "Yes…yes…he comes…." the voices whispered in her mind, while the will'o'the'wisps danced frantically around her. Confused she held her breath as a darkened figure stepped through the archway and into the circular room.

He couldn't be there. It wasn't possible.

Sarah blinked and rubbed her eyes, watching the figure walk further into the room, sure that it was some trick of Fae magic. Even in it's bedraggled state, hanging limp and matted with bits of twigs, she'd recognize that cornsilk fine hair and those twinkling blue eyes anywhere.

"Jareth?" she whispered, her voice hoarse and thick with crying.

"Hello, Precious… miss me?" he purred, his usual sardonic smirk curling his lips.

"Jareth!" she gasped, launching herself from the throne in the middle of the room. Ignoring the painful throb of her bleeding feet, Sarah ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. Without a word she threaded her fingers into his hair, sobbing once more, her warm tears running down her cheeks and smearing against the dirt upon his own. "My love," she cried. Heedless of the matted blood and dirt in his hair, she pulled him into a heated kiss, her torn nightdress allowing her bare flesh to rub against his body. "My king….my love," she murmured between frantic kisses, salty tears falling from her eyes and dripping onto his blood crusted chest.

Wrapping his arms around her, Jareth returned the kisses with a passion all his own. She was his Queen and he would make sure she knew it.

"You are mine now," he growled softly, his eyes regaining their soft red glow as he looked at her. "I caught you as a runner in the Hunt, you belong to me. Forever."

Groaning against his throat, Sarah merely nodded, too overwhelmed by the fact that he was alive to fully process what he was saying. "Yours. Always," she mumbled, kissing his throat and tugging on his earlobe with her teeth, earning a throaty purr from the man in her arms.

Hooking his hands swiftly under her thighs, Jareth lifted her, making Sarah squeak in surprised as her legs tightened instinctively around his waist. He kissed her as he carried her back toward the throne, basking in the feeling of her warm center pressing against his stomach through the remnants of his shirt. Jareth's chest erupted into the low, constant growl of a predator, about to claim it's mate. The Goblin'Ha itself reacted to the magical energy pulsing and twining around the Goblin King and his soulmate. Dancing excitedly in front of the throne, the small wisps came together forming a larger glowing ball that slowly sunk into the stone floor in front of the throne, turning into a large pit filled with soft cushions and pillows.

Stepping down into it, Jareth murmured, "Yn mynd," and the tattered remnants of his shirt and armor vanished. "By the right of Cymhell I claim this mortal…for all time…as my mate," he growled, his words reverberating throughout the Goblin'Ha. At his proclamation, the very stones of the court seemed to vibrate and glow a vibrant purple, before settling once more, acknowledging the ancient magic.

Jareth laid Sarah amongst the cushions her nightdress falling fully open, leaving her exposed to his hungry view. Sarah shivered looking up at him, unsure if it was from the cool chill of the room or the look of pure, unadulterated desire that Jareth gave her. The low growl in Jareth's chest grew louder as he felt the pull of the Beltane Moon and the Wyld Hunt stirring within him, demanding that he claim his prize. With a hard thrust, he entered her warmth, drawing a startled yelp from Sarah as the voices in her head devolved into a chaotic hiss, "Yessssss…..King…..Queen…..forever….yesyesyesyes…." Sarah's eyes fell shut as she arched under him, pushing herself into him with a low moan. The growl in Jareth's throat seemed to grow louder still, as the possessive predator in him took over, driving hard and fast into his mate, claiming her for all time as his own. His mate. His wife. His Queen.

Feeling Jareth's hands on her own, Sarah twined her fingers with his, gasping and moaning as she instinctively pushed back against him, meeting every firm stroke with one of her own. The sound of their panting and groaning echoed around the room. Gasping and arching as one, they shuddered, Jareth's forceful snarl making the very stones tremble around them,"Gan gwaed a chnawd , fy frenhines i hawlio!" (By blood and flesh, I claim my queen.)

An ethereal purple engulfed them, rapidly spreading outward to fill the room, as an enraged howl echoed from the doorway. "NO!" Lucan roared. Turning he grabbed the heavy obsidian sword hanging upon the wall over an engraved portrait of Diantha, then charged across the room toward Jareth and Sarah.

Growling, Jareth spun, preparing to defend his Queen. He snapped his fingers, grunting in pain as a blast of pure Unseelie energy caught him against his wounded shoulder, sending him falling back on top of Sarah. The wound tore open, blood spilling from it to flow down his chest, dripping around his side and landing hotly against Sarah's bare flesh.

"Jareth!" she screamed, cradling the partially clothed body of her King, as Lucan stood over them in the pit, his sword raised high above his head

"DIE!" he roared, brutally thrusting the sword downward toward Jareth's heart, only to have it be stopped by a blinding blue flash.

Blinking Jareth groaned as he looked at the blade, stopped inches from his heart by a hand glowing with blue. Sarah gasped from behind him, peering up at Diantha, her blood oozing in the older woman's palm as she stopped Lucan's blade. The blood pouring from her hand brought to mind Sarah's waking dream of seeing Diantha with the sword in the shop window, but something was off – spirits can't bleed.

"You're alive," she whispered in surprise.

"You fooled me once, old woman," Lucan hissed, pulling the sword back before slicing it into Diantha's side, a flood of red coursing down her dress as he withdrew it. "I won't make that mistake again," he spat, then hit the side of her head with the hilt of his sword, knocking her back against a wall with a pained gasp.

Despite his injury, Jareth snarled, pulling himself upright with an agonized grun. Snapping his fingers, his body was encased by the formal Goblin regalia, shimmering and whole once more, his crimson blade crackling with magical energy.

"Jareth…no," Sarah protested, as he pulled away from her, climbing out of the pit, while red drops of blood spattered upon the stone floor with each movement of his arm. Sarah's scream made the room shiver, her heart seeming to stop beating at the sight of Lucan's sword being thrust viciously through Jareth's chest.

Grasping the blade piercing his chest, Jareth looked from his mother to Sarah, "I'm…sorry," he whispered, crimson bubbles bursting against his lips to stain the alabaster skin of his chin.

Jareth crumbled to the ground as Lucan pulled his blade free of his brother's body. "About time you died," he growled.

Gasping in pain, Diantha crawled toward Jareth, cradling his head in her lap as she cried, her voice shaking. "Sleep sweet…my darling…till moonshine fades…" she sang, crystalline tears dropping into the feathery blonde hair of her beloved son. The sound of Jareth's dying breaths rattled through the room, only to be broken by an otherworldly shriek of rage.

The air around Sarah shimmered with a purple haze, then faded to reveal the new Goblin Queen, floating several feet above the floor, clad in a red dragon scale breastplate and skirt of harpy feathers, accented by the full regalia of the Goblin Queen, the heavy leather cap snapping and twisting in the ethereal wind that whirled and screamed around her. The wind whipped around her head, tugging at the twisted and plaited black strands, now interwoven with vibrant purple and stark white streaks. Her once green eyes glowed an eerie purple, as she glared at Lucan, waves of hatred pouring from her.

Lifting her hands toward Lucan she roared, "That's MY king!" With her final word a blast of magic struck Lucan squarely in the chest, purple flames crawling over him as he shrieked in agony. Twisting her hand she gestured again, the flames seeming to curl in on themselves before disappearing with a pop, leaving nothing but a charred ring where Lucan once stood. Exhausted, Sarah collapsed next to Jareth, tenderly caressing his face. "Jareth," she murmured, her voice filling with tears once more.

Diantha raised Jareth's head and placed it gently in Sarah's lap, then backed away to give the young queen time to grieve. All around them, the walls of the throne room seemed to hum softly, as the goblin lament echoed through the halls, sounding the death of the King. Sobbing, Sarah kissed Jareth, her hand hovering over the bleeding wound in his chest.

"Don't leave me," she whispered against his flesh. "I can't do this without you…without your love…Please…Jareth," she pleaded with his cold, still body. "I love you…I need you." Warm tears spilled against his lips, running down his throat to the wicked gash in his chest. "I love you…I've always loved you…forgive me, please," she begged.

Leaning against the wall, Diantha's eyes widened and she smiled, as she watched a slow flow of purple energy move from Sarah over Jareth, creeping along his limbs before sinking into his body. In the next instant the room was filled with a blinding white light that seemed to not only engulf the room, but move through everyone and everything in it. Sarah screamed in pain and Diantha groaned as the light burst through them. When it faded, Sarah scrabbled back, her lap now empty as the Goblin King's body was no longer in her arms. "NO!" she gasped, frantically looking around, before she noticed a gloved hand in front of her face.

"Really Precious, it's about time you admitted it," purred the voice she thought she'd never hear again.

Her eyes followed the hand up to a strong arm encased in flowing black silk, before meeting a chisled firm chest covered in the Goblin King's regalia she remembered so well from their first meeting, then finally up to the face she longed to see every morning for the rest of her days. Taking his hand, she felt his fingers girl strongly around hers, before pulling her to her feet and into his arms.

"Honestly woman, if you had just admitted you loved me before now and done what I asked, none of this would have been necessary," he said with a salacious grin, before kissing her, his lips caressing hers as his tongue tasted deeply of her hidden depths.

Breathless when he broke the kiss, Sarah smiled up at him, her purple eyes hooded with a dark urgency, "Ah…but husband…my king…where would the fun be in that?" she purred back, before tugging his head back down to hers and mastering him with a kiss of her own. Goblin King though he may be, she was the Goblin Queen and with her, the power truly rested.

Still kissing, the two of them slowly faded from view, while Diantha sat against the wall in her old throne room, and laughed, "Long live the Goblin Queen!" Smiling she shook her head as she gingerly poured healing magic into the wound on her side. "And Fates help the Goblin King…he's going to need it," she chuckled.

~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~ * ~J/S~

SIX MONTHS LATER

Stretching, Oscar frowned at the commotion coming from the parlor. Honestly, after the Blue Moon, he had been glad when the house had settled down. No more goblins. No more of that dark man who like to alternate kiss and growl at the girl. No more danger and weird happenings. Although, all of that aside, Oscar did rather miss the man in green – he smelled wonderful and Oscar was sure he had been a cat somewhere in a former life.

All in all, Oscar had been happy to have his quiet home back. The old woman went back to her knitting and gardening, and the other woman, the one with the pretty black hair like the girl's, moved in. She wasn't so bad, Oscar decided. For one thing, she was always happy to let him sit in her lap and would pet him for hours while humming and peering into a glowing blue ball. That was all right, he thought, although he was vaguely put out that she wouldn't let him play with the shiny ball, he felt it was rather unfair.

So after all the uproar, he had his quiet home back – until this morning when the package arrived. First it arrived in a way that Oscar thoroughly disapproved of. He had been grooming himself on the soft rug in front of the hearth when a great clot of soot came tumbling down, covering him in grime and ash, as two goblins came through the hearth carrying a large package. The blasted creatures not only covered him in filth, they proceeded to tramp upon his tail as they struggled to carry their parcel through the lounge and into the kitchen, where the old woman and the pretty dark haired woman were having tea. From that point on there was all manner of squealing and clapping of hands – at least until the old woman caught sight of Oscar's soot covered fur. Then she subjected him to a bath, scolding him the whole time as if it was his fault.

Blasted goblins, he hissed and spat every time the woman took a breath from scolding him, giving him a chance to interject.

And he wasn't sure why the two women were so keen on the new painting the goblins had brought. Sure, it had the pretty dark haired girl in it, but did it have to have the dark man with the fair hair in it? It took Oscar awhile to figure out why he detested that man so much – he reminded Oscar awful of that great white barn owl that enjoyed tormenting him from the garden gate.

Sitting up on the back of the sofa, Oscar looked up to where the painting now hung in pride of place over the hearth. The frame wasn't bad, he supposed, and it did have that dark haired girl in it. In Oscar's view, she wasn't so bad, but she had clearly put on weight. She stood in a circle of stones, her dark hair flowing over her back, and a golden circlet around her head. Her body was wrapped in a deep purple dress, and in her hand she held a little red bound book, which rested over her swollen stomach. What Oscar really objected to about the whole painting, was the fact that the 'owl-man', was in it, his arm wrapped possessively around the girl, a black gloved hand also resting on her belly.

As far as Oscar was concerned, it was a waste of canvas. Any painting with the owl-man in it would be in his opinion. But then again, cats were not exactly masters of the art world, he decided, before hopping down off the sofa and padding into the kitchen, where the two women were still cooing and awing over the painting and something called a 'baby shower.' If it was anything like a cat bath, Oscar felt deeply sorry for the poor babe.

~FIN~

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Please review. Yes, I know there are a few 'unsnipped threads'. I have left them that way purposefully as I am contemplating a sequel of sorts to this one. So...reviews will help me get to work on that ;)