A/N- Hello all. I'm a teeny bit late with this one. But, better late than never -and all that. Between working, and both my betas working, these last few weeks have been a little daunting. The three of us have been slowly chipping away at revisions whenever we could, so it's an honest relief to finally be posting it. As always, this chapter is stupid long, and, once again, this is only part 1 of what was meant to be 1 solid chapter. I really do think my subconscious wants me to drag this story out as long as possible... That scroll bar might look intimidating, but this chap is VERY dialogue heavy. It's also filled to the brim with entirely new exposition that I've been itching to get to for a while now. So, those of you who like a good bit of world building, this is definitely up your alley.

For those who are interested, I've made an updated version of the 'Orpian map' which features the locations of all the places mentioned throughout the story thus far. I think that may help orient everything that the characters are talking about (in this chapter specifically). You can find it on my Deviantart page under Fangamerbowiextreme, or search for "Orpia Updated".

Also, a lot of you already know this, but for those who don't, I am a working artist IRL. Lately my work has been very Bowie/Labyrinth heavy, so if anyone is interested in checking out my current portfolio, you can follow me on FB and Insta under 'studio DarkBloom'. I'm about to launch an Etsy shop (under the same name) which will be the hub for all print/original art sales. And I also have some merch available on Redbubble (again, under studio DarkBloom). If you'd like to support me, or are just mildly curious, please check out any of those platforms. Thanks 3

And now, without further ado...

Chapter 26, Um...What?

Cold. It was so...so cold.

She shivered and curled into herself. Fingers gripped tightly. Toes dug in grime. She winced. Her eyes were shut. Blinded. And yet…

Dark. It was so...so dark. Never before had shade bore such depth. So far away. Everything was so far away.

She whimpered, and the sound came as a pitiful screech between clenched teeth. So strange was this...pain. She was in pain.

Her body trembled, her knees pressed together, and she sobbed. She sobbed and the sound…the sound was deafening.

Alone. She was so...so alone. She'd never felt...never felt...

She bit her lip and the sound of her chilled limbs scraping against the stone tiles echoed. Why was she alone? Why did he leave? Why did she feel...this way?

A cry escaped her. A doleful sound, carried by longing, and confusion, and despair. Sounds of thunder. Sounds of rain. Sounds of brutal tempest that tore asunder everything...everything was gone.

And she was alone. So...so alone.

A door opened. A light revealed. She heard the sound of footsteps and they too were carried through the void. She could not move. She could not bear it. She waited, and feigned, and sighed.

Wrought. She was overwrought. Stifled with too many detestable, incomprehensible things.

The footsteps stopped. The man hunkered down. She saw the flicker of a lit candle that he set on the floor by his side.

"Are you alright?"

She closed her eyes. They were too heavy. Too sore. A new wave of tears fell. She could not look at him. But his voice...his voice made her want to smile.

"I am...feeling things." Her voice cracked and she shook as a shiver shot up her spine. What was this? This sharp sensation nipping at her skin. Skin...was it really her skin?

"Yes...I know."

"How?"

"He told me…"

"He…"she repeated, a hopeful, pitiful sound. It drifted away from her. It left. Just as he did. "He is gone," she continued, hope replaced by bitterness. "He was the only one...who knew…" and then she paused. That was right. No one knew... "How have you found me?" she asked. Her eyes opened gradually, pleading for the light of the candle that swayed just out of reach. Warmth. Was this warmth? "How have you come to me in this...terrible place." Her vacant eyes soothed from strain as the glow of the candle beguiled her. What a lovely color, she thought. What...what?

"The door was open. I know the way. He told me that as well. I know this place is hallowed, and I know that I trespass. ...Will you forgive me?"

His voice was so kind. So soft and...warm. She'd heard it before. She'd...heard it before…

"Forgive you?"

Achingly, she lifted her head from the floor and forced her eyes to rise to his. There was something about his voice. It made her feel...it made her feel.

The gaze that met her was that of a dead man, and she recoiled as a horrible surge of recognition bound her stomach in knots. She felt ill. Ill. She- she felt-

Her breath hitched in her throat, and her tired eyes found her vigor as they strained wide open. She raised a hand as if to reach for him. He was there. He'd come back to her. He was there.

"Orpus? Is...is it really you?"

There was such desperation in her voice. Such pain. The eyes that she'd once regarded so well now softened, and his brow turned down in a frown. Why was he looking at her like that? This ghost. This...ghost.

"Forgive me Alvra. Orpus is dead. I am not he."

The hope that might have ignited in her beseech fell dead, along with the terrible pang in her chest. Disillusionment. Shock. She...she did not know. Her chest heaved and she looked away. Averted her eyes from the confusion and the torment and the-

"You are not...no. No, of course not," she started, her eyes darting quickly as she regained knowledge that should not have been cast so far away. She didn't understand. Didn't understand what was happening to her. Why he would do this... "Orpus is...gone," she said, forcing a sense of resolve as she nodded at the floor. "He is gone and you are Exelion."

"Yes."

She shifted in the dirt, attempting to rise and face him. She did not know why she kept her head turned away from him as she did so.

"I've not seen your face, and yet I know it. He did not tell me...you were the same."

"We are not the same."

She managed to bear weight on her hands pressed to the floor, and finally brought her gaze to him. His image was shadowed. Incomplete. And even still, his eyes were soft as he gazed at her. The resemblance was perfect.

"No…"

"You are suffering," he said, tilting his head as he frowned. She looked away again. These words. She knew these words and yet no longer understood them. She felt them instead. She felt...

"Suffering? Is that...what this is?"

A hand raised to her chest as if there were a literal pain there. A knitted brow joined Exelion's frown as he fought the urge to reach out to her.

"I'm sorry. When my brother told me of his plans, I did not realize…"

"That it would hurt so badly?" She cut him short and looked up once more. Their gazes locked and bore deeply into one another. For a split second, he was a little taken back. He didn't realize how beautiful she would be. "What does it mean to hurt? Will you tell me? Will you tell me of this feeling?" Her sweet face broke into a grimace and she sobbed. "I don't...I don't understand. Everything is wrong. I am corrupted. I am broken. Orpus is gone and I am...so alone."

"Alone? No...forgive me, Alvra, but you are wrong." This time Exelion did reach for her. The tip of a finger brushed her chin and she allowed it. There was warmth there. Tenderness. But he was not Orpus. She gave in to the subtle tug and lifted her eyes to his once more. "My brother is dead, but he is not gone. And you are far from alone." She felt something odd in reaction to the change in his expression. It too was warm. Kind. She...she wanted more. "He is with you even now. Do you not feel him?"

"What?"

Her eyes veered down sharply when his hand retracted and left her. And now her chin was cold. And now she felt alone once more. Why...why in the world would she want to be touched?

"He told me of his intentions...when he told me farewell," he explained, his own gaze falling to the floor briefly as if the memory stung. She observed him carefully. "The pain in your chest...the cold air on your feet...the warmth of this candle… Do you really not feel him?" She sat up a little further and glanced around the darkness. She didn't understand. She was too disoriented to understand. It was like being reborn. Like she was helpless. Like she'd forgotten everything. "These things...that keep you here, fetal on the floor. The thing that causes your tears to run as rivers, and your cries to clash as thunder. It is called grief, Alvra. It is called loss, and longing. It is love, and despair."

"Love...and despair?" More words. More words she could no longer define. But she remembered them. She remembered the way Orpus had spoken of them. Was this...what he wanted?

"Do you not feel it?" Exelion asked, calling back her attention. She noticed another change in him. An uplift in his voice. "It is emotion. Mortal emotion. That is the gift he has given you. It is him and, so long as you feel, he will always be with you." She blinked and once more curled a hand to her chest. She focused. Focused on regaining the understanding she had never anticipated to lose. Had she been daft? Ignorant? Why did these new words make so much sense to her? Feel him? This painful contortion. This heavy thump. Over. And over. And over. Yes...yes, she felt him… "Do you understand now? Can you not feel him lying by your side?" As if choosing that very moment to make itself known, there was a deep resonance throughout the space. She turned and looked down, to the tiny saucer she had once been cradling. The tremor came again. It came rhythmically. And then she remembered. She understood...

"Yes…" she started, her voice tapering as the tip of a finger began to gently trace the rim of the bowl. It was black. It's surface was rippling. It was so, so precious… "This is...his gift to me. What he called love."

Exelion sat patiently as he regarded her. Her tears had ceased. Her body no longer trembled. She looked like she had finally come back to herself. She looked peaceful.

"Yes."

"I did not know...how badly he hurt. I cannot comprehend his pain."

Her expression twisted with discomfort and she tore her attention away. Why would he do this? Why would he want her to have such suffering? How had she not known...that this weight bore in his heart?

"Pain? That is not pain, Alvra." She looked up again, quickly, and with intrigue. Exelion shifted on the floor and leaned in towards her. If he did not know better, he would have thought her an ordinary woman. A shattered lover suffering the loss of her mate. And yet, she was neither of those things. His brother really had been foolish. "Look beneath it. Feel beneath it. There is warmth there beside the cold."

"Warmth?" She knew that word. She felt it. It felt nice. Comforting. And even more wretched for it. "This thing...this thing inside of me...it pulses and it hurts. I cannot stop these tears-" she stammered, falling into a fit of wet sobs all over again. She started shaking her head, and pushed herself away from the saucer. She did not want this. She'd never wanted anything.

"That's how you know it is true. How you know it is real."

"I don't...understand."

"I know." There was something so lovely about his voice. The mere sound of it. Because it was Orpus's. Because they were the same. She'd never...never before regarded any sound in such a way. "He was selfish in that regard," Exelion continued. "I am sorry...that you have been left to mourn in this place for so long."

"Mourn?"

"Yes."

Mourn. Another of Orpus's words. He'd told her...he'd told her not to mourn. To never mourn. That it would be hard. That it would be unbearable. That it was too worthwhile to cry for.

But there was nothing worthwhile. There was only pain and darkness.

She did not know how to do as he'd asked. Did not know how to endure his dying wish. But no...no he was not dead. He was with her. This pain was proof of that.

"And you...do you mourn as well?"

"I do."

There was a peacefulness that lulled his voice as he spoke, as he watched and comforted her so selflessly. She'd never known such a thing. No. No, she'd never been able to understand such a thing.

"So you understand as I am….you suffer as well."

"To live is to suffer," he said, and she flinched as if caught off guard. "It is both pain and pleasure. It is harmony attained through discord. The point where your love and your despair converge. Do you not recognize it? It is you. Within you is where you will find him. That is where you will live."

"Live?"

She sounded so timid. So confused. So afraid. Was this how his brother had always imagined her? With eyes so large and becoming? What selflessness indeed, to grant them to her with his dying breath.

"He wanted you to understand what it means to be alive," he said. Her eyes kept darting. Flighty. Like she was fighting so hard to find herself in this void. He felt sorrow for her. Sympathy. Guilty that it had taken him this long to muster the courage to come for her. "He wanted you to know how wonderful it is to love someone and to be loved. But it is not without agony. In fact, it is agony. It is a torment of choice. Whether we choose it, or it chooses us. There is beauty in that." She flinched at the feeling of his hands taking hold of hers, and recoiled weakly. He raised their hands between them and begged for her attention. She peered over, nervously it would seem, and clenched her jaw tightly. He was staring at her so directly. It made...it made her heart flutter. "Find him as I have. Settle now, and rejoice in it." His hands squeezed hers and she felt careful thumbs caressing her palms. The warmth was back. The connection. The...beauty. Exelion watched her for a long moment as deliberation played openly and arduously across her face. She was squeezing his hands in return. Her breath was quickening. She was glancing off to the side and then -and then he saw a glimmer there. "Do you see?"

A lump formed in her throat and she pulled away from his grasp. She felt...heavier. No longer adrift in darkness. The ground was beneath her but that suddenly meant something more. She felt the pain in her chest and the thump through the floor. She felt him with her. She felt him there...steadying her. Yes...she could see again.

"Why...do you help me? Why have you come?" she asked as a new sensation crept in. It crawled. Made her ill again. It was...shame?

"I've come at the behest of the Favra," he said, which caught her interest. When her eyes darted over, he was relieved to see a bit more composure in them. "Your grief...has brought disharmony to the land. A terrible storm rages outside these walls. The kings have been slain. People...everything...is dying. I've come to beseech you, Great Alvra. I ask for your guidance...to help us end this boundless night."

She blinked at him in a moment of surprise.

"My guidance?" she repeated, and drew back with trace suspicion. "Do you not wish to shackle me as your brother once did?"

She felt uncomfortable when Exelion frowned once more. He looked...disappointed. How did she know that?

"It was his wish to grant you freedom," he said, a bit sullenly. "It was his wish that we fend for ourselves. I shan't dishonor him by trapping you. And neither would I dishonor you. Ever."

She stared at him. Lowered her eyes over him. And then she felt something she'd never experienced before. Sincerity. She could sense his sincerity. She could...read his heart.

"But I am not free," she said, and shook her head. "I fear I am bound now more than ever by the constraint of this heart." And she pointed detestfully at the saucer. If she had known...if she had known what his gift really meant, she never would have allowed it. She never would have realized... "I am now neither mortal nor spirit, and I am tied to this darkness by the tortures of both. But-but yes, you are right…" and her voice trailed off. Lulled from passion, from anger. She swallowed and composed herself. "It...it is indeed a torment of choice. His choice...and now mine." And this time, the torment was able to be subdued. Its hold over her was no longer so encompassing. She gulped again, and stared down into the depths of the saucer intently as she reached out and took hold of its rim with both hands. "There is...harmony here. Yes...I see that now." He watched her fingers curl in what he thought was frustration. Yet, when he looked back up to her face, he saw she was smiling. "I am...grateful to have this despair. I am happy because he is happy. Because it is him." She released the saucer and straightened. She sat taller, nude and yet regal, and he humbled under the power exuded from such a sudden transition. No, she was not mortal. She was something far, far greater. "Thank you. I believe...I am beginning to understand." She bowed her head to him, and he grinned. He could not help it. The Alvra herself was deferring to him. How blasphemous.

"Good. I am glad."

She tilted her head at him, curious of the way he had averted his gaze from her.

"You wish...to carry on his work?"

Exelion arched a brow and peered over, but not directly at her. She wondered why he had become so uncomfortable.

"I do," he said, and then corrected - "We do. The church, that is. We fear...my brother's faith in our people has fallen premature. That...his actions with you were not entirely objective, and all your work shall be undone because of it. He may have been ready to leave us, but...we are not ready for a world without your parentage. There is no peace. We are not ready…"

A great warmth bloomed deep within her that she struggled to comprehend. She felt a pull towards him. A pull that desired to become tangible. It was not of her. No. It was him...

"He loves you," she said, and watched as Exelion's downward cast head slowly lifted back to her. She brought a hand to her chest again. But this time, it was a tender gesture. "This feeling. It calls to me. I feel his love for you. His respect...his trust...I feel it because it is mine." And suddenly she smiled. It was small. It was fleeting. But it was lively, and she nearly gasped because of it. She knew...she knew what he had been trying to convey. She knew how to find him. "Do not despair, sweet Exelion," she said and, to his great surprise, reached out and took hold of the sides of his face. "Do not make such a sad face. He would never see you in such a way. I shall do as I have done-" and she pulled away. He watched her, in mild wonder, as she pulled the saucer to sit in the space between them. Her hands rose and began to draw circles in the air just over its surface. Exelion observed in silence. The ripples in the saucer, in the thick black liquid pooled within, began to change. They began to slow. To pulse. Like a heartbeat.

"You have given me a great gift, Exelion. Perhaps one just as great as Orpus. In gratitude, I will bind myself to the son of Daemar once more. You have the same face...the same blood. The same heart. You are the same."

He watched as the gold of the saucer began to glow and a small spark of fire ignited the blood within. He sat back from it, then shook his head in alarm.

"We are not. I am not as strong as Orpus," he said, wanting, and yet unable to bring himself, to say that he was unworthy. That he could not do as he had done... "I do not know if I am capable-"

"No, but you are wise. You are true," she interjected, and paused as she looked up and into his eyes. There was peace there. Understanding. She felt none of the reservation he did. "You have consoled me, and now I can see. For that, I am indebted." Her hand resumed its ministration, making strange gestures in the air which sprang forth a root from the murky depths. It grew and grew, fanned, and entwined with her hands. It glowed. It pulsed. She offered out a hand to him. "I cannot be alone in this darkness. This heart will not bear it. Teach me how to tame this wicked thing, continue to soothe me, and I will teach you to do as he did. I will teach you to tame all."

Exelion gulped. He was not expecting this. He was not ready. He would never be ready. His brother was the one who sought greatness. It was his brother who was wise. They may have the same face, but he was cowardly. He was not strong. He was not ambitious.

And yet she had chosen him. She had offered him her hand. It was impossible to refuse.

Tentatively, he reached out and clasped both her hands with his own. The roots caught flame and grew around him. And then, as they began to bore into his skin, a bud sprouted from the space between their hands. "Bound by blood, I give you as I have been given. I give you faith. A heart. A soul. I willingly bind myself to you...Your blood is now mine, and I am yours."

He winced as the roots pierced what he believed to be both his literal and figurative heart. He grew hot. His blood boiled. He did not know what would happen next. This magic was ill-defined, and he did not know what it meant. Was this how his brother had felt? How he'd felt when he first took her in chains...

"Alvra…"

"No...not Alvra." And she shook her head as the light of the roots dimmed and retreated back to whence they came. Her eyes had been lowered, and now they fluttered. She smiled, embracing this feeling of contentment. Of harmony through discord. Orpus was gone. He was gone and he was with her, forever more. She did not know what would happen. Perhaps this heart had made her a fool once more, but it did not matter. Loneliness was death. To be left in this darkness was death. But to be together...was to live. To suffer was to live. And she did suffer, she would always suffer. Because they shared the same face. The same voice. And, she imagined, the same gentle touch. "Please...call me as he did," she said, and stared up at him with a sweet, lovely smile. "Call me Liana."

An eon or so later…

Sarah stared down at her hand, clicking her tongue in thought. A glare creased her face, a look of fierce concentration, as she fiddled a pair of tiles between her fingers.

"...Is kerfuffle a real word? I feel like it is."

She had too many F's. If she didn't score big now, she'd lose. Again.

"I believe so, yes."

Mariella tilted her head with sympathy. It'd been quite a while since Sarah had won a round. ...Maybe she should suggest they play something else. Sarah reached over the table and began to align her tiles, then growled in frustration.

"Ugh. Damn. I'm missing an E." She pushed back in her seat and dropped her jaw to her hand. This was frustrating. Why the hell was she so bad at Scrabble? "I got nothin'," she said and threw up her arms in defeat. "You win. Again." Mariella frowned but did not respond right away. She wanted to inform Sarah that there were at least three other words she could make with her current tiles, but knew that would only sting her pride -and that was something to be avoided. She'd been...very testy lately.

"Would you like to play something else? Or...maybe go for a swim?" That had been their go-to activity for the last couple of days. It was one of the only things to do on a floor Sarah was still allowed on...

Sarah stewed in her seat and placed a haphazard hand over her stomach. She was feeling a little off. Maybe she was hungry.

"I don't know...I'm feeling kind of bloated today, actually. Maybe I'm getting my period." Which would explain why she couldn't keep it together for a game of fucking Scrabble. God. She wanted to throw something through a wall. Maybe she was just going stir crazy.

Three days. That's all it'd been. Three days on castle lock-down, and already Sarah was starting to lose it. She didn't know why. It wasn't like being confined to the castle was a new concept for her, but, once again, she'd taken things like grass and company for granted. Thankfully, Jareth had in fact permitted her to leave her room -as if she would have sat prettily even if he hadn't. She was, however, forbidden to go anywhere other than her current floor. Which, of course, boasted little more in the realm of excitement than the damn pool. She could not go outside. Not even on a goddamn balcony. She'd almost asked if he planned on barring her windows too, but wisely refrained. From his expression during that particular conversation, she knew he very well might and she would not be the one to give him the idea first. She was also not allowed contact with any of her friends -aside from Marie- which Sarah thought was just plain tyrannical. Her objections did little to persuade Jareth, however. If anything, it only made him more resolved. He was trying to punish her after all. ...At least he hadn't done something worse. Done something to her.

And so here she was. Three days later, playing through the same board and card games they'd played over a dozen times now. She sighed and tapped her fingers impatiently against the table top. Marie was frowning at her -and Sarah did not need to look up to know it.

"I see…" Marie mumbled. She sounded anxious. Sarah paused and checked herself. Hm, maybe she should dial back the drama…

*Knock* *Knock*

Both ladies looked over to the door. Sarah leaned up off her hand and tilted her head. Well that was new.

"Um, come in?

Sarah's brow drew with suspicion as she waited for whomever it was to open the door. They hadn't ordered lunch yet, and she couldn't think of any other reason why someone would be knocking on her door.

It was a goblin. A courier Sarah had come to know as Creak. He gripped the edge of the door as he stepped around it, keeping his head somewhat lowered on instinct.

"Good day, Your Majesty-"

"Creak? What can I do for you?"

The little goblin, only standing to about Sarah's knee, entered the room and released the door. He removed his cap and clasped it out in front of him with both hands as he lowered his head.

"I come to tell you...that Sir Didymus is awake. He is recovering well."

Sarah's eyes widened and she stood from her chair. She moved around the table, and Marie soon followed.

"What? Really? That's great!"

She'd been worried when Jareth had said it may take a few days for Didymus to come out of paralysis -even though he'd assured her repeatedly that he would be fine. She was even more worried over the reality that he would have to suffer the full brunt of the Herdsman's venom. Though again, Jareth had told her he'd been rendered unconscious well before the pain could become too severe. Sarah wasn't sure to believe him. For one, such knowledge implied Jareth had been keeping tabs on Didymus's condition and that just didn't sound like him. And second, she was just too damned worried to allow any degree of relief to rationalize her brain. In the end, she could do nothing else but take his word for it. She was grounded, and the goblin infirmary was all the way down on the fifth floor…

"Goodness, it's about time! That is such good news." Sarah turned to cross gleeful smiles with Mariella, who was clasping her hands together fervently.

"Yeah, let's-" and then she paused. On a dime. With one foot hanging in the air. And the excitement fell from her face. She scowled a little, looking down at Creak. "Do you think...Jareth will let me see him?" She turned back to Marie as she'd spoken, her mouth falling into a frown that Marie was soon to mirror.

"Erherm…"

Sarah glanced back at Creak, who was awkwardly clearing his throat. He was still getting used to being acknowledged, though she knew he'd appreciate it in the long run.

"Majesty...I've also come to let you know...that you may now visit with him. If you wish."

And just like that, the excitement was back. She barely even gave herself the chance to register the fact that this confirmed Jareth had indeed been checking up on him and was now bending his own rules to grant her some comfort. She'd thank him later...probably.

For now, she bustled past Creak as he held the door open for the two of them and, without any other thought, headed straight for the infirmary.

The door to the goblin infirmary opened on its own, which was good because it was so tall and heavy that Sarah knew neither she nor Marie had any hope in opening it by themselves. It was a large space. A hall, with beds lined on each wall with privacy curtains drawn in between. She had no idea where she was going. Actually, aside from Jareth showing it to her once during their initial tour, she'd never even been here. Mariella followed closely behind and looked around with the same sense of intrigue as her.

There were not many goblins being treated within the castle, which she supposed was a good thing. This made it easy for her to spot him. Well, not him, but someone else whom she was equally worried over.

They saw Baldur standing at the end of a bed about halfway down the room. Sarah's smile renewed itself and a little skip caught in her step.

"Baldur!" she called out, waving around like an idiot as she approached. Baldur turned and his long wispy brows rose high. He stepped back and bowed to her deftly as they came to stand before him. Sarah's eyes darted to the bed. Didymus was there. It looked like he was asleep.

"Your Majesty. Thank the gods, you are well. I am so happy to see you," he said and, in truth, sounded quite shaken. Sarah felt the tug of a frown and pulled back some of her passion. He looked worried. His bow to her was very, very low.

"So am I. I was so relieved when I heard you made it back okay." She noticed the way his hands clenched on his thighs as he bowed, refusing to straighten.

"I was sure you would perish...Forgive me, My Lady. I failed you-"

"No. No you didn't-" Sarah dropped to her knees and reached out for his shoulders, urging him to look up at her. He did, but it was begrudged. "You did everything you should have done. It was my stupidity that got me hurt."

"Please, never say such things, Your Majesty. You are my charge. I should have been able to see you safely back. If it weren't for His Majesty…"

"Yes. Yes I know," she said, gripping him tighter until he was forced to look her in the eye. He was wincing. She was smiling.

"But the fact is, Jareth did show up. I was saved. I am fine. And I don't want you beating yourself up over it. Okay?" Baldur eyed her skeptically, then sighed.

"I...will try. My Lady."

"Sarah."

"Yes...I will try, Sarah."

Feeling like that was good enough, Sarah turned her attention away from Baldur and looked over at the bed she was crouched at.

"Didymus...I was told he's awake. Did he fall back asleep? How is he?" she asked, standing to her feet and then staring down at the worn little fox who looked to still be very much comatosed. Mariella had already moved to his bedside. Their gazes crossed with residual worry.

"He was. He's been drifting in and out a bit. He's doing well, by all accounts." Nodding, though with a frown, Sarah moved to stand on the other side of the bed. There was a chair there, which she pulled up and seated herself in. He looked so small. So frail. She never realized how tiny his hands were.

Her frown deepened as she stared at him. And then his lip twitched. He sniffed, and his lip curled to reveal several sharp little canines. His eyes fluttered open and his glazed eyes rolled over to her.

"Ah...My Lady…" he said, so soft-spoken and fatigued. Sarah's frown fell as low as it could, and now she felt the sudden urge to cry.

"Didymus...how are you?" There was a tiny waver in her voice. Just a hint. She leaned over and pet the fur at the top of his head. He exhaled slowly and savoured the feel of it.

"Right as rain. As always," he said, and she laughed at the charismatic bounce that just could not be snuffed from his voice. Marielle grinned, too, and leaned forward to smooth the wrinkles from the bed.

"I am so relieved. When I heard what had happened I nearly fainted. We've been so worried for you."

Didymus turned and looked at Mariella. He tried to raise his arm in some gesture but it failed, and he lowered it back to the bed.

"Worried? Come now. T'was only a small thing. A flesh wound. It will take far more to slay a seasoned knight, such as myself."

"Of course," Sarah said, giving him such a heartfelt smile as she trailed a finger down his ear and back to her side. She was so relieved. So ungodly relieved it was like she hadn't fully comprehended just how afraid she'd been. "Were you in a lot of pain?" she asked. Didymus brought his attention back to her.

"Fret not. Pain is but another foe. One I will conquer time and again. I would suffer all the world for you."

And then a heat bloomed in her eyes. Sarah's lip quivered and she threw herself at him.

"Goddamn it, Didymus." She clamped her arms around him and cried. She was not expecting to be this emotional, not that it mattered. She was just so happy he was okay. She felt one of his hands patting her arm and realized how sore he must be. "Oh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" she asked, pulling away and inspecting him for signs of strain. He shifted in his spot but gave no other tells.

"I am a bit sore, I admit. But nothing I can't handle. I assure you. I am only glad that you were able to make your escape. And- oh- Captain, is that you I see?" Didymus peered down the length of the bed at Baldur, who was only staring back, worriedly.

"Yes. I've been here for some time actually. Do you not remember speaking with me when you first woke?"

Didymus blinked and then shook his head.

"Why no...no, I don't. Forgive me, Captain. Did we discuss anything important?"

Both Sarah and Marie had turned their attention to Baldur as well, though none of them were expecting his look of concern to worsen.

"I explained to you the events that followed the moment you were poisoned. What happened to Sarah."

Sarah turned away from Baldur and back to Didymus. He was just staring, his eyes wide and then narrowing, as the memory came back.

"Wha...oh. Oh. Good gods. Sarah are you alright?!"

With an energy he could not yet maintain, Didymus turned towards her and nearly lunged. He winced, and Sarah immediately settled him back to the bed. That one movement had caused his breath to labour. Sarah frowned all over again.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Perfectly fine. Jareth's wards protected me, all of us actually, and then he came and saved me."

"But-but the Captain said you were poisoned?!"

Sarah gentled him with a hand at his shoulder and he reluctantly listened. He gruffed, and relaxed into the bed. Mariella was staring down at him with a deep frown.

"Yeah….I was. But it's fine. Jareth healed me. See? Totally fine." She held up her hands as if that would be proof enough and, it seemed, it was. Sir Didymus eyed her intently for a long moment and then let go his remaining fervor.

"Wards...you said his wards protected us all?" he asked, changing directions and catching Sarah off guard. She drew her brow and gave him a curious look.

"Yeah. I don't see what else it could have been. The spell broke when I touched the two of you. And, while I was holding onto you, you both were shielded from its attacks."

She glanced up at Mariella as if needing her to confirm this as fact, but she was only staring back in ignorance. Right. Mariella wouldn't know anything about this…

Sir Didymus cocked his head to one side as he pondered.

"Interesting...indeed it must be so. And yet...I've never heard of such a thing. Have you, Captain?"

Sarah, now confused, looked back to Baldur as well.

"No. I found it very curious myself. His Majesty's magic must be very potent indeed."

"Huh? You're saying it's odd that I was protected?"

"No. I'm saying it's odd that we were protected in addition to you. His Majesty's charms are linked directly to you. I've never heard of a protection spell by proxy. Especially one that has the power to break enchantments."

Sarah's brow furrowed tightly as she digested his words. Jareth had been teaching her magic theory, yes, but she was still learning, and this wasn't something they'd covered yet. But, now that she thought about it, maybe it was odd that the ring on her finger had broken them from the spell…

"But...what else could it have been?" she asked, not having the faintest clue. "I just assumed...because the ring is touching my finger, that it would by extension be touching you so long as I held onto you," she explained. Mariella hummed with contemplation but said nothing. Baldur pursed his lips and tapped them with a finger.

"I...suppose that must be the case then. I must admit, my knowledge of magic is limited, and His Majesty is a renowned spell-crafter. He must have altered a traditional ward into something more powerful."

"A true visionary, indeed," Mariella said -if for no other reason than to get a word in. Sarah peered across the bed, frown in tow.

"Yeah, I guess…" That kind of made sense. But, Sarah was still feeling a little suspicious, and not quite sure why. Everyone always said Jareth was so powerful and so smart, and yes, he was. She even acknowledged she did not yet fully comprehend the degree of his strength and intelligence when it came to magic. And yet...something was gnawing at her. Something...was not quite right.

Didymus, uncomfortably shifting on the bed, pulled Sarah from her dark contemplation, and she instinctively reached out for him.

"Are you okay? Do you want something to drink maybe?"

"That would be much appreciated, My Lady," he said, sighing, and closed his eyes as the subtle pain left him. Sarah turned towards the end table beside her and poured him a cup of water from the pitcher that sat atop it. "You are most generous."

"Careful Didymus. If anyone sees you getting special treatment from The Queen, you could find yourself with an even worse punishment."

"Worse?" Sarah asked, turning back with a sharp eye. Baldur paused.

"It would be well worth it. Undoubtedly," Didymus replied, not feeling any of the alarm Sarah now was. She turned back to Didymus to find him looking positively zen.

"What do you mean punishment? Why would you be punished?" Her eyes flickered up to Marie, briefly, and the look she was met with was one of pity. What? Didymus finished his drink and held it over his chest as he turned and looked at Sarah.

"I failed to protect you. I failed to carry out my one sworn duty, and you were gravely injured because of it-"

"So that means you have to be punished? You threw your life on the line and have been in a coma for three days. Haven't you been punished enough?" There was a bit of a rise in Sarah's voice, though Didymus was oblivious to it. His eyes rolled away and he shrugged.

"Honestly, it would have been better if I had died. There is honor in that."

Sarah blinked. Repeatedly.

"You wanna try saying that again?" she asked, with anger. She stared at him, beside herself that he could say something like that with such nonchalance. That he could be so accepting of that reality. And then she realized, that was exactly what it was. Reality. His reality. It was the code he'd pledged himself to and had lived by long before he'd ever met her. Smothering her offense, Sarah shook her head and exhaled roughly through her nose. "No. No, you did everything right. You both did-"

"It doesn't matter." Sarah glared over at Baldur, who'd interrupted her. "It doesn't matter because you were still harmed. It was His Majesty who was forced to save us. Who did as we should have done. It is within his full right to punish us for bringing such disgrace." Sarah caught Didymus nodding in agreement out of the corner of her eye, and she frowned. Why was she the only one bothered by this?

"What kind of punishment, exactly?"

She eyed Baldur intently as he glanced to the side. He stiffened a little. Sarah felt an almost forgotten chill run down her spine.

"...I'm not sure," he said, after a moment's contemplation. "I have heard no word on the matter, but that does not mean it will not come. He may start by removing us from your Guard. Possibly even revoke our knighthoods-"

"What? Are you serious?" Sarah did not even let him finish his sentence before feeling a compulsive call to arms. She drew back in her seat and looked between the two goblins. "No. There's no way I'll let that happen."

"Sarah…"

"No. I don't care," she snapped and looked at Marie -who'd spoken her name in an obvious attempt to handle her. Not wanting to acknowledge the very particular kind of frown the nymph was giving her, Sarah instead forced her attention back to Didymus. "You both risked your lives to protect me. Didymus, you charged that thing fully willing to die then and there. I got poisoned just as you did, so I know some of the pain you just went through. If you really have to be punished then what you've been going through these last few days is more than enough. Taking away your knighthood is out of the question."

"Please, Sarah, do not worry on my account. I have disgraced myself as a knight, and I will fully accept His Majesty's ruling no matter what it is. Even if that means no longer being one." His look on her was humble. Complacent even. And she realized, for the first time during the course of their conversation, that there was also real shame lurking there. A shadow in his eyes that she'd written off as fatigue. He'd failed her. But, even more than that, he'd failed himself.

Sarah felt the fire leave her as she eased back in her chair. Marie's frown deepened and she leaned a little over the bed.

"-And, honestly Sarah, that would be the most merciful of punishments His Majesty could bestow. Please. Do tread the matter carefully. Baldur is right. Such things are fully within his authority."

Sarah scowled as Marie's words wormed their way through her brain. She knew she was right. She knew she was getting ahead of herself. Going in guns blazing would only condemn them, and she'd learned quite some time ago what happened when she preemptively cast him as a villain. She just couldn't help it. The idea of punishments sent her reeling on an instinctive level, and she was just so irritable today. But not all hope was lost. Baldur had just said Jareth had yet to make a formal decree. He may still be a little cross with her, but maybe she could make a plea on their behalf.

"Fine. Fine," she said, shaking her head and raising her hands as if shooing away her annoying hormonal annoyance. "I'll talk to him then. I'll try to get him to go easy on you. But I swear to you now, if he tries to physically harm you I will not stand for it."

"We are in your debt, Your Majesty." Didymus bowed his head and so did Baldur, and Marie stifled a secret sigh of relief. It was downright stressful trying to navigate Sarah's mood these last few days. She really, really hoped this new issue wouldn't spark things with His Majesty…

Sarah stared with hard eyes as Didymus turned away and closed his own. He looked tired. Like he was drifting off again.

"Are you alright, Didymus?" she asked. Didymus inhaled and exhaled deeply.

"Yes...I'm simply feeling a bit sleepy, is all. Do not mind me."

"No, no you need your rest. We'll go so you can nap," she said, and stood from her chair. "I'll send word to Ludo and Hoggle. I haven't been able to see them, but I'm sure they've been worried sick. I'll have them come visit you later." And she leaned down to plant a soft kiss at the top of his head. His ears twitched and he grinned. Special treatment indeed.

"Thank you, My Lady..." She could hear his consciousness fading along with his words, and took the empty cup from his hands and set it back on the table. Then she looked at Baldur.

"And you, Baldur?"

"I should report back to the garrison. They've been awaiting word of his recovery as well," he said, and stood to attention as he bowed. Mariella moved around the bed to join Sarah at her side.

"Find Hoggle and Ludo too, would you?" Sarah asked. He nodded.

"Of course."

"Thank you."

"No thanks necessary, Majesty," he said and, with one more bow, turned and walked away. Sarah stared after him for a moment. He seemed tense. Maybe he was worried about his fate after all. Or, more likely, he was worried about hers once she stood up for them. She felt herself space out for just a moment before being tugged at the elbow. She blinked and looked over to Marie

"Are you finally feeling hungry, Sarah? Shall we get some lunch?"

Blinking in confusion, Sarah glanced down to find her hand lightly pressed to her stomach. She felt off still. Maybe it was anxiety. And then her stomach rumbled.

"Yeah, actually. Let's get going."

Roldan sighed as he ran the tip of a pen down the length of a ledger. Redundant. Redundant. Redundant. Yes. Everything looked to be in order. As usual. He blinked slowly as his gaze clouded. This was so tedious. Gods...he was starting to wonder if he had any purpose at all.

The door to the library opened and a goblin came scuttling in. Roldan turned to greet it, as was the custom now, though he realized the smile he'd tried to force must have come out as a sneer from the way the crooked thing winced and recoiled from it.

"M-master Roldan," the creature said, bowing its head low as it held out a bound stack of letters. Roldan stared down his nose at it. Gods, this was stupid. Why in the world Sarah thought it would be better to acknowledge these things, he would never know. The damn thing was quaking in its boots. With another sigh, he reached down and accepted the parcel wordlessly. What was its name again? Rook? Crook? Something… The goblin straightened, hunched its shoulders nervously, and glanced sharply to the side. Roldan stared. It was just standing there.

Oh. Wait. That's right.

"...Thank you," he said, as if someone had near-twisted his arm into doing so. Even to him, the words sounded awkward. The goblin huffed, concealing the flash of a smile on its face, before bowing deeply before him.

"You're welcome, Master Roldan," it said, and no sooner turned on its heel to dash away and out of the room. Roldan's eyes lingered on the door for a moment, bored. This really was...so stupid.

Shaking his head, he turned away and untied the letters as he paced deeper into the library. He went towards the windows, towards the spire of books that stretched endlessly-upward. He stopped in the middle of the space, glancing up briefly as he thumbed through a few envelopes.

"Jareth? Your mail is here," he said, his voice loud but not quite a yell. There was no response. He continued to flip through the post and, after a moment, stopped abruptly and turned his head towards the ceiling. "Jareth? Can you even hear me?" he asked, in an even louder tone. The sound carried a bit, echoing up into the chasm that had no end. Again he was met with silence, and huffed as he shook his head. He took a step away, about to walk back to the desk, when a sudden scraping sound called back his attention.

He looked up, or over rather, at the shelf ladder that stood to the side of him. And, sure enough, sliding down it with only one foot pressed to the rail like a goddamn acrobat, was Jareth.

"Hear you? It's impossible for even the gods to ignore the sound of your nagging," he said, releasing the rail and hopping to the floor in a fluid movement. "What do you want?" He looked up to find Roldan scowling at him. His eyes were narrowed, and Jareth got the feeling he was about to be sternly lectured.

"Must you do that every time? Your damn boots are going to wear the finish off the wood," he said, his figurative feathers thoroughly ruffled. Jareth suppressed a laugh and glanced back at the ladder.

"Good thing I have someone like you who cares for such things so passionately," he said, his grin turning one-sided as a playful brow arched back at him. Roldan grumbled, his glare following after Jareth as he dismissed the matter and walked away.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Roldan asked. Jareth, now with his back to him, held up a book and waved it in the air. "Another lesson for Sarah, I presume?" He followed Jareth as he made the way back to his desk and then set the book down on its surface with a thud.

"Indeed." Without a glance, Jareth rounded the desk and sat back in his chair. Roldan, now standing in front of the desk, gave him a rather dull look.

"I still don't see why you're bothering. A human knowing the mechanics of our magic is pointless," he said, and took a step forward as his eyes scanned the book Jareth had taken. He arched a sharp brow and ran an index finger haphazardly along its cover. "Especially...The Principles of Meta-Casting? Why in the world would she need to know anything about that?"

Jareth, feigning disinterest, pretended to scribble something as he fought off a grumble.

"She doesn't need to know anything. But, as they say, knowledge is power...and all that," he said, twirling a hand in the air flippantly as he searched through an assortment of papers on his desk. Roldan frowned. He just didn't get it.

"Facilitation, at the very least, would make more sense."

Jareth paused. There was a hint of petulance in his voice. Now, whatever could sweet Roldan be feeling bitter about this time?

"We've already covered facilitation. Being of the Above, she took to it rather quickly."

He spied on Roldan discreetly from the cover of his bangs. He was still frowning. Staring down at the book like it was something obscene. Jareth felt a tick in his jaw.

"Do you plan on teaching her all the pillars then?" he asked. The tick came again. Only, this time, it became a grin. Jareth sat up a little and tilted his head.

"My, you're not feeling jealous are you?"

If Roldan blanched he hid it well. There was a slight tension in his posture, but he otherwise recovered gracefully as he stood a little straighter. He withdrew his hand from the book and raised another bored brow at Jareth.

"Hardly. She's only a human child who knows nothing and has no appreciation for such things that are considered sacred, and privileged, to only the most noble of our kind. What is there to be jealous of?" His intent was surely riddled with sarcasm but his expression was deadpan. Jareth held his stare for a moment, failing to stop the widening of his grin, and then laughed.

"Heh. Oh, is that all? I thought maybe you wished to be the one managing her education." The impish glimmer in Jareth's eye, which once would have had Roldan crumbling to pieces, now held zero sway and he scoffed at it accordingly.

"Please. I've had my fill of such affairs, and more."

A little impressed with the conviction he caught in Roldan's stare, Jareth decided to let the matter go and glanced away.

"Really? That's too bad. We've managed to have quite a bit of fun during our lessons. I dare say more fun than the two of you ever had. T'is a pity you aren't more interested. I might have invited you to join." -Okay, maybe he couldn't let it go entirely. Roldan was just too much fun to tease. And, from the way he very visibly failed to conceal his second faltering moment, such incitement was made well worth it. His pitiful reaction had Jareth grinning with even more mischief.

Roldan's eyes narrowed as he very quickly recovered from the split-second flinch he pretended did not happen.

"You amuse yourself, don't you? When you've finished snickering, may we get on with matters that actually matter?" He was grumbling and, in retaliation, snickering is exactly what Jareth did. A bit of fang showed in his smile as he glanced down to his paperwork in an effort to compose himself. Roldan had been a bit more straightforward about his not-quite-interest in Sarah recently. Now he simply ignored such comments rather than denied them, and Jareth found he couldn't help but press his luck. Why he found so much joy in this very particular manner of provocation, he didn't know.

"Of course. Of course. Such a slave driver you are."

Shaking his head, Roldan dismissed his comment along with the rest of his irritatingly playful demeanor. He looked down to the letters he still held in his hands and began to flip through them once more.

"Please. It's a wonder anything gets done anymore now that you're off having fun every waking moment of the day," he said, disapprovingly, and tossed a couple envelopes onto the desktop between them. "Those just came for you," he added, and tucked the remaining letters into a pocket in his jacket. Jareth did not like to be bothered with trivial matters, and Roldan knew enough from the seals alone which correspondence was considered important.

Jareth leaned back in his chair as he tore open the first envelope.

"So...how is she, anyway?"

A moment passed before Jareth responded. Roldan was staring at him while he read, with apparent focus, whatever was written in the letter. As the seconds ticked, Roldan wondered if he would respond at all.

"Hm? Oh, she's just fine," Jareth said, distractedly. His tone was light. Too light. Roldan nearly scowled. "I'm surprised you're still concerned. Did you think she had regressed from the last time you asked me that?" Without breaking stride, without any apparent interest at all, Jareth placed the creased parchment he'd been reading on the desktop and reached for the second letter.

"It's been three days since our queen was, apparently, almost killed. And no one has since seen her. It's a bit unsettling. I fear you fail to realize just how chaotic the castle was that day. So yes, I am concerned."

Jareth paused just as his eyes scanned the first line of the letter. There was something a bit more serious in Roldan's tone now. Interesting.

"If by no one, you mean you, then yes I agree. I commend you for handling that situation for me so swiftly, by the way. I know how much you detest a rowdy goblin, let alone a full battalion of them." He was looking down, tapping a finger against his lip as he resumed reading. He could feel Roldan's stare on him. Becoming a bit bored with the game he'd started, Jareth suddenly huffed and set the paper down, and then looked up to meet Roldan in the eye. "She's fine. Perfectly fine. Nary a bruise upon a single inch of that supple human skin. You realize you can always just go and see her, yes? She's been restricted to her floor, not her bed," he chided. Roldan's eyes narrowed but Jareth did not much care. He rolled his eyes away and almost grumbled as he added, "As if even that would bar you from her..."

"It's inappropriate for me to call on the Queen. You know that."

Whatever reaction Jareth was trying to goad from him, Roldan was determined not to give it. He only crossed his arms and stared down with scrutiny. Jareth could be a bit of a bastard when he was in a good mood. This was nothing new. He watched as Jareth shrugged.

"It's inappropriate to call our couriers by name and then thank them for their service, and yet...here we are..." Jareth's voice tapered a bit, which gained a modicum of interest from Roldan. There was a little snap as Jareth pulled apart two letters that had, apparently, been stuck together. He scanned his eyes over it with a scowl, their conversation now forgotten in an instant. "Hm...that's curious."

"What?"

Roldan leaned forward a bit, trying to get a look at the wax seal Jareth was still eyeing.

"Did you see this one before?"

"No. I did not realize they had been stuck together," he said, and his eyes narrowed as Jareth flipped the letter from side to side. He'd caught a glimpse of the seal then. The wax was near-black. A deep charcoal grey. Only one country identified by such a color. "Is that….a Shadowan seal?"

"Yes."

Roldan paused, falling into something a bit more focused as Jareth tore open the letter. All previous playfulness fled from the room. It was quiet while he read.

"From Bezaleel?"

Roldan's eyes scoured Jareth's hardened face with interest, interest which only grew when Jareth's scowl twisted deeper and deeper. A few seconds passed before he responded.

"Who else?"

"I...can't remember the last time we received correspondence from him."

Jareth's eyes, seeming to reach the bottom of the paper, lifted back to the top and read through it all over again.

"Indeed…"

"What does he want?"

"Hm…"

"Jareth?"

Jareth's brow twitched. Like he'd been pulled from deep contemplation. His grip on the letter eased, and he sat back in his chair.

"He's touring the continent," he said, to Roldan's utter surprise. He blinked in response. "Visiting religious sites, apparently. He's requesting permission to pass through Fyrn."

For some reason, Roldan presumed they both had expected something a bit more dire lurking in that ink. It was almost off-putting. It was very rare that the Shadow King would reach out to anyone in southern Orpia. Let alone for something so...frivolous.

"Oh? Well that's random." Roldan glanced away with ease but not Jareth. No, Jareth only sank further into his seat as he bit on the tip of his thumb with a scowl.

"Is it?"

Roldan peered back.

"You think it's a pretense?"

Jareth's brow arched briefly and he shrugged, shifting about in his seat to sit properly once more. He released the letter from his grasp, and sighed.

"I don't know. Perhaps. I imagine he'll be wanting to pay homage to our Druid. Which just so happens to be on the castle grounds." There was a worried air of suspicion building around Jareth. And, while Roldan understood very well why Bezaleel's company would be enough to unnerve any sensible fae, he wasn't quite sure why Jareth in particular looked to be so suddenly fretful.

"It's only proper that he would grace your hall, regardless," he reminded, giving in to pick up the letter and read through it himself. Jareth did not stop him. "You are both kings, after all. It would be an insult for him not to greet his host -or you to greet him."

"Hm…"

Jareth's attention was still wayward, darkened by something conniving. Roldan paused, his brow tensing, as he tried to dissect the source of such vexation. From his understanding, the two kingdoms, and their kings, were in good standing with one another...

"Are you worried over his interest in Sarah?" Roldan asked. Jareth's lack of response was response enough. "Was his behavior really that suspicious at the ball?"

"Suspicious?" Jareth repeated, and then blinked, snapping out of his daze as if it had never been there to begin with. He leaned back and met Roldan in the eye. "Always. Pretense or not, I can't say I'm particularly surprised he's waited until now to reach out."

Yes...the two of them were now married and so Court antics began. Despite the formality of it, even Roldan was surprised Sarah had been receiving so many invitations so soon. First Davion, then Queen Delphine. And now, potentially, The Shadow King himself. It was Roldan's opinion that she was still not nearly ready for such things. And, apparently, that was a thought shared by Jareth as well. Maybe his worry was due more credit. Roldan glanced down to quickly scan over the letter-

Dear Friend,

Now that the moon has waned on your marriage bed, I would like to take a moment to impose upon your hospitality. My Court has deigned to embark on a scenic adventure. A spiritual journey, if you will. I ask your permission to breach the threshold of Fyrn, and pass through your great kingdom as we travel to and fro the faces of Orpia. Where you ask? Oh here, there, anywhere. All the where. They say the Alvari Temple ruins in Meyhaven are a thing of true beauty, and that the Pillars of Jeju still maintain enough glory to break your heart at first sight. I heard Faris boasting of his 'cherry Druid' at your engagement ball. I cannot help but wonder what in the world that is. We are such a faithful people, and yet we have never seen any of these monuments to our faith. What hypocrites!

Alas, will you indulge my fancy dear friend? My caravan awaits your response.

Sincerely,

B-

"So, what are you going to do then?" Roldan asked, tossing the paper back to the desk. "Will you deny him?"

There was a beat. A momentary silence that was heavier than it should have been. Roldan however, was not surprised. This was all simple custom, but Jareth, just like Bezaleel, often failed to bat an eye when it came to breaking from such things.

If the subject of this discussion did not teeter on such a precarious edge, Jareth would not have been biting his tongue nearly half as hard as he currently was. Honestly, he never before gave a particular damn about Bezaleel. The man was strange, but had possessed very little relevance to him, beyond trade agreements, up until now. Up until the night of his engagement ball. Bezaleel...somehow...knew there was power within Sarah. Knew that there was a possibility of it being extracted. However much more knowledge the man held back was anyone's guess. But, more than the knowledge itself, Jareth's primary concern was the how. How could Bezaleel sense such things? No other fae, aside from Davion, was able to pick up on Liana's power signature. So what did that mean? And, if he did know more about what Liana was and how Sarah must fit into all of it, why did he leave them be? Why did he not seem to care?

This request was by no means random, and it had very little to do with a religious vacation, of that much Jareth was certain. He should play it safe and not allow this...he should keep Sarah locked up far, far away...

After another moment of subdued frustration, Jareth finally responded.

"How can I?" he said, vaguely exasperated, and gestured out over the table in defeat. "As you yourself have just said, we are both kings. I can't exactly forbid him entrance into my country. We are allies."

Admittedly relieved, Roldan let out the tiny breath he'd been holding. A few months ago he wouldn't have been concerned. There would have been no reason to be. But, things had been different since Sarah's arrival. Jareth had been different. While the greater part of himself knew better, a teeny, tiny voice in the back of his mind worried that his king might very well risk offending their neighbor if it meant safeguarding the girl. Thankfully, it seemed Jareth had not yet devolved into something so foolish. Even if he was justified...

"He mentions a caravan. Are we to assume he plans to travel traditionally?" Roldan asked, clearing his head of conspiracy.

"Of course. It is a pilgrimage, after all."

"Well, at least there's that," he said, and turned away. "It will be a three month journey here by lipsgate, longer if they decide to make any stops along the way."

"True…" There was still a hint of rumination lacing Jareth's response, leaving Roldan to wonder what exactly he was missing from the situation. Bezaleel was mysterious, yes, but he was still an Orpian King and a Goblin ally. Surely there was no reason to suspect he wished Sarah actual harm?

As he thought over the course of their conversation, he realized that always, no matter what, it seemed the world now revolved entirely around her.

"Which means there will be plenty of time to prepare. Well, for us to prepare. I can't speak for your brother. Although, I can already picture the look of horror that will twist his face when the illustrious Shadow King sets foot on his doorstep," Roldan said, in an obvious effort to lighten the mood. Jareth cracked a grin.

"Heh, yes. I hadn't thought of that," he said, and then glanced away. Roldan was staring out the window. There was a brief silence as they shared the same memory...and then Jareth's grin curled a little more. Davion and Bezaleel...Oh dear. How could he have forgotten? He glanced up, eyeing Roldan mischievously, and almost thanked him for the idea he'd just been given. "Say, shall we have a bit of fun ourselves?"

Roldan looked back at Jareth to find his mood successfully salvaged. He was grinning -a one-sided expression that caused a deep crease in his left cheek. That look, with all its dastardliness, flickered away from him as Jareth then reached out and pulled back the transmission crystal that stood on the corner of the desk. Realizing his intention, Roldan smiled and stifled a faint huff of laughter. Oh. Fun indeed.

Jareth placed the enclosed crystal directly before him and stared into it. He touched it with an index finger and, wordlessly, it began to glow. He'd told Sarah this was a device used to quickly mail correspondence, yes. But that was not its only function.

"Davion-" Jareth said, sternly. Nothing happened. The glow of the crystal remained unchanged. Jareth tried again. "Davion? I know you can hear me." Again, nothing. Jareth rolled his eyes and took in a sharp breath. "Davion, remove your cock from whatever poor creature currently suffering it and answer me. Right now."

A second passed. Maybe two. And then the glow in the crystal faltered. It twinged, destabilizing as it reflected the sounds of shuffling. The noise was raucous, and no sooner joined by a very, very irritated kind of growl.

"Rrrgghhh, gods damn it Jareth. What do you want?!"

The sound of Davion's voice, strained and breathy, resonated from the crystal for all to hear. Jareth laughed, biting his tongue as he did so.

"You should know better than to keep me waiting," he spoke, amusement darkening his voice. Roldan's grin curled a little, though he remained silent.

"I have half a mind to make you wait a little more. God… -fuck. Do you have any idea how close I was?"

"Don't worry. This won't take long," Jareth said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Perhaps if you were a better multitasker this would not be an inconvenience to you at all."

There was more shuffling on Davion's end, and some mumblings that could not be discerned.

"You know I'm a generous lover, Jareth. It wouldn't do to go splitting my attentions between my lovelies and...whatever the hell it is you want. Is there a reason you couldn't simply write me a letter?"

"I could have. Though I find the sound of your voice, in this instance, to be much more enjoyable." Jareth spoke with a grin, one that curled as his eyes peered up at Roldan. There was silence. One anticipated by the both of them.

"What."

And then Jareth let out a burst of laughter. There were traces of panic in his brother's voice. Entangled with abhorrence and suspicion. Although he remained quiet, Roldan could not help the twitching of his smirk.

"Oh. No longer feeling snarky, are you?"

"You're unsettling me, Jareth," Davion said, sounding a bit flustered. "And, honestly, it's becoming a little difficult to maintain my erection. So please, get on with it, will you?" Jareth glanced back at Roldan again with well-restrained amusement.

"It seems Bezaleel will be making the journey south," he said, then leaned forward to rest his hands on the desk. "He'll be passing through Fyrn and, naturally, I'd like you to welcome him." There was another silence. Longer this time and heavily perturbed. It took all of Jareth's self-control not to fall into a fit of laughter. He arched a sharp brow at the crystal, imaging to perfection what his brother's expression must now be. "Davion?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he suddenly exclaimed. Roldan pressed a fisted hand to his mouth and turned away as he smothered a laugh. Jareth was not so considerate.

"Afraid not," Jareth said.

"He's coming here? When? Why? You want me to greet him here alone?" Davion's voice was quickly gaining passion with each question, and the light of the crystal vibrated wildly.

"Alone? Don't you manage over two-hundred courtesans?"

"And I suppose you expect me to share them with him and his people as well?"

"I expect you to be hospitable," Jareth said, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat. "You are, after all, the Crowned Prince."

"But-but-" and then Davion groaned. "Goddamnit Jareth!" There was a clattering of sorts, more muffled voices, and the sound of a door slamming promptly shut. Jareth laughed. "Thank you. Thank you for thoroughly ruining my mood. There's no way I'm going to finish now. I hope you realize you owe me an orgasm-"

"You're getting a bit distracted," Jareth interrupted, and the flickering glow of the crystal lulled. "You should be thanking me for warning you at all."

"Warning me? When should I expect him?"

"I have no idea." And he wove a hand in the air. "Could be tomorrow. Could be a month from now. He did not specify."

"Are you serious? Some warning!" Davion yelled. "Gods, brother, what the hell do you expect me to do? Sit on a royal reception for the next month?"

"As if such decadence is unbecoming to you."

"What's unbecoming is the pain in my balls, you goddamn-" And then Roldan laughed. He could no longer help it. Jareth's eyes flickered up to his, briefly, and his smile widened. "What was that? Are you not alone? Oh. No. Of course not. You're there too Roldan, aren't you?" Davion asked. Roldan paled. "Oh I bet you're both just a barrel of laughs right now. I have half a mind to-"

"You're trying to change the subject," Jareth interrupted again. Davion shut his mouth. "Perhaps you should take a moment to calm down."

"Please, he's just still upset about what happened at Jaeun's Beltane ball last year," Roldan said, crossing his arms and smirking down at the crystal. The light rippled. Oh. Had he struck a nerve?

"How dare you," Davion said, his tone so deeply offended. "Getting cocky over there with my brother as a shield? Don't think I'm above letting loose each and every one of your dirty little secrets Roldan-"

"So he's right then?" Jareth cut him off. He was leaning forward again, staring intently into the sphere as if his brother might actually be seen. "Still feeling insecure are we?" When no response came, Jareth continued. "Come, come, brother. I thought you prided yourself on sexual liberation?"

"...You're such an ass, Jareth."

"Do remember to be a proper host. Your guest is a king, after all. It is your obligation to fulfill all of his needs." Being the ever-considerate brother that he was, Jareth kept the mockery in his tone to a minimum. He even waited for a retort. However, when what followed was yet another silence, Jareth sagged his shoulders and sighed. "You can always cry about it afterwards."

"Please. Do not insult me," Davion snapped. "Though I fail to understand why I must defend myself. Neither of you were there. You have no idea what he- He's just- ugh, he makes me want to scrub my whole body to the bone! I'm all for a spot of epicene debauchery but- Have you ever looked that man in the eye? There's just something not right there. The idea of being touched by those claws makes my skin crawl-"

"Being touched again, you mean."

"Roldan, I swear to the gods if you make one more mention of that night I will-"

"Admit yourself a pederast?" Jareth said. "That is what happened, if I was told correctly?"

Davion growled and the sound of his pacing was audible through the crystal.

Yes, if ever Davion had encountered a moment of shame it was undoubtedly at the Dutchess of Asterfe's spring fling the previous year. Jareth had not cared to go, but oh the stories he was told. Apparently, in one of his more appealing guises, Bezaleel had come onto Davion more aggressively than he was used to. Of course, being Davion, he did not hesitate at the advance -Jareth wondered if he'd realized it was Bezaleel at all. And things progressed as such things tend to progress...However, and this was the part that always made Jareth chuckle like an outright git, once things were well under way, Bezaleel decided to change forms. Sources differed over what happened next, as there was a bit of dispute over whether or not Davion had been on the giving or receiving end at that particular moment. Regardless, the effect was the same, as Davion was no-doubt surprised to find himself either fucking, or being fucked by, a very naughty ten-year-old.

"I am not a fucking pedophile!" Davion shouted. Jareth laughed harder. "Gods! Believe it or not, I do have standards. He was a woman, a full-grown woman, when we started!"

Shaking his head, Jareth wiped an imaginary tear from his eye and leaned back. A rumble of laughter lingered in his chest. Oh, it was just too much.

"Uh-huh," he said, and rolled his eyes away. "I'm surprised you're still so sore over the matter. You're always complaining how bored you are. But just listen to yourself. Over a year later and you're still filled with such passion-"

"Rot in hell," Davion interjected. Jareth bit his tongue. "The both of you. May ravens pick at your eyes and millipedes crawl up the holes in your cocks."

"You're welcome for the warning Davion."

"Hmph," Davion said, and, even through the crystal his pout was palpable. It was quiet for another moment, and then he sighed. "I suppose I should be grateful," he said, trying to forcibly change the subject. "I think I've heard more from you in these last few months than in the last few years combined. Even if I am nothing more than a dead horse for you to kick, I'll be sure to thank Sarah for it. How is she, by the way?"

And now Jareth suddenly found himself bored. The smile fell from his face, and he rolled his eyes.

"She's made a full recovery. Nothing to worry about." For whatever reason, it was starting to annoy him that everyone was suddenly so concerned over Sarah's wellbeing. After spending weeks and weeks trying to convince these fools she did in fact deserve their respect, it seemed, much too abruptly, that she now possessed a great deal more than their meager respect. Was this jealousy he was feeling? He wasn't sure. Either way, it was something he'd rather do without.

"Good," Davion said, pulling him from his thoughts. "Because I was worried. I still can't believe you'd be so stupid as to-"

"What's that Roldan?" Jareth said, peering up at Roldan who only blinked like he'd missed something. "An important meeting you say? Quite. Best be off then." He turned back to the crystal and sneered at it. "Ta-ta little brother. Have fun with the preparations. And, as always, It's a pleasure blocking your cock."

He tapped the crystal and the light dimmed. Without a second thought for his brother, he grabbed the thing and shoved it back to the corner of the desk.

"Are you satisfied?" Roldan asked, his tone light but his expression now just as bored as Jareth's. He thought about scolding him for his poor display of manners just now, but this was Davion they were dealing with and he didn't much care. "He's going to be throwing a fit for the rest of the week."

"Oh, I do hope so," Jareth said, amusement now mingling with vague irritation. "I hope his balls self-castrate with thoughts of Beltane as well. Insufferable slut that he is." He grumbled a bit as he spoke, and turned his attention towards a blank stack of parchment that sat off to the side. He pulled out a sheet and began scribbling something.

"What are you doing now?'

"Replying to Bezaleel," he said, not looking up. "Best get it out of the way now…"

"Right. Have you already packed?" Jareth paused but Roldan did not notice. "Or would you like me to take care of that for you, as well?"

"What?" Jareth asked, and then set down his pen as he looked up at Roldan. "What are you talking about?"

"...Your trip to Sulu?" Roldan said, staring him dead in the eye. "The one you're scheduled to leave for tomorrow morning?" He waited for some sort of light to shine behind Jareth's eyes and, when no such thing happened, Roldan sighed and rolled his own away. "Don't tell me you forgot?" he asked, with derision. Again, Jareth did not respond. Roldan shook his head. "Gods...it really is a wonder…"

"If you find me so inadequate, you're welcome to go in my stead," Jareth said, taking his narrowed eyes away from Roldan and lowering them back to the paper. Roldan glared from his peripheral and inhaled slowly.

"I would. If you did not already write to Lord Eines personally and inform him that you, Your Majesty, would be the one performing the final rite. I can supervise construction, but creating grand and mystical feats of magic are a bit above my pay grade." Jareth did not respond, though Roldan knew it was because he was more focused on writing. He sighed and took a step towards the edge of the desk, waiting until he finished the letter before continuing. "If the timing has become inconvenient, I can write to Eines and explain that the visit will be postponed."

Jareth, about to sign his name at the bottom of the page, paused and furrowed his brow. That's right...It'd been over two months since the renovations in Sulu began. He'd told Eines he would fortify their barrier. There was, frankly, no one else who could. This trip would not have been an issue in any capacity, if Sarah had not almost killed herself a couple of days ago. She was still grounded, and he was still very much paranoid. Her necklace was disenchanted and, while nothing had yet happened, it was like he was just waiting for Liana to make a move. He did not trust her. But, more than that, he was still afraid of losing Sarah. It was all he could do not to chain her to her bed and watch her through a crystal all hours of the day. He'd never felt like that before. This new state of anxiety was...unwelcomed.

His eyes, falling vacantly on the desktop, regained focus and he quickly scribbled his name.

"No...No, that won't be necessary. I will go."

"Good." Roldan nodded, and paced. "...and Sarah?" Jareth peered up through his bangs with a quirked brow. Roldan quirked one back. "Would you like me to restrict her to her room while you're away?"

He watched Jareth's brow draw tight once more. Watched as some manner of contention plagued his mind. Roldan felt his jaw tense. Jareth was still worried. Still feeling protective. That much was certain. The manifestation of such feelings through an expression alone bothered Roldan. Jareth, as strong as he was, was very rarely worried. And what boded ill for Jareth, boded ill for all.

"No. I...will just take her with me," he said, and glanced away as he began to package and seal the letter.

"Oh? Are you sure that's wise?" Roldan asked. He turned away and re-crossed his arms. "Her punishment has lasted a mere three days. You may give her the wrong idea by suddenly absconding halfway across the country with her. Unless of course, the fearsome Goblin King really is all bark and no bite."

Roldan spoke with an air of detachment, something bored and disappointed, and only slightly out of line. He glanced back at Jareth to find him staring rather intently.

"Careful Roldan," he said, with a bit of actual warning. "I've bitten her plenty."

Sarah stared pensively at the floor as she and Mariella made their way back to her room. She'd been given "special permission" to leave her floor and, now that her visit with Didymus was concluded, she wondered in just how much of a hurry she should be in finding her way back…But then again, wandering off was what had gotten her in trouble in the first place. Hm, maybe she should hurry.

Mariella was prattling, going on about some comical childhood story that Sarah, plainly, was hardly listening to.

"-And then I tripped. Fell right off the edge of the cliff. And after all that fussing! I did feel so bad for that goose though. Poor thing did not deserve such a fate. Gods, what an exhilarating day-"

She ended the tale with a wistful sigh, which was, apparently, Sarah's cue to laugh. When she didn't, the bubbly fae glanced down poutingly.

"Sarah? Are you even listening?"

"Huh?"

Sarah peered up with a look of innocence as Mariella scowled down at her. Oh. Was she in trouble?

Sarah blinked and smiled awkwardly.

"Sorry Marie. That sounds like a terrifying experience," she said, unconvincingly. Mariella frowned.

"It was anything but. What were you thinking about?"

"Just um...how nice it would be to have lunch outside," Sarah replied. She stared out ahead, shrugging and feigning apathy. Not being able to go anywhere was really bugging her, but honestly it wasn't the confinement itself she found so strenuous. No, what was causing her so much anxiety was not knowing where she actually stood with Jareth. His decree on the length of her punishment had been indefinitely, which left her constantly teetering on the question of whether or not he'd actually gotten over it. He'd been in good spirits since then. Hadn't acknowledged the figurative shackles linking them together at all. It was confusing. Mainly because it created a dynamic that felt oddly parental, and that did not sit well with her at all.

She kept waiting for the moment he would finally say "times up", but it had yet to come, and the way she kept herself perched on the edge of her seat in anticipation for his approval felt wrong on so many levels that, on multiple occasions, she could swear she'd felt her skin actually crawl.

But that wasn't to say the reason why she continued to endure these cringes was unknown to her. Regardless of whether or not she deserved such condescending treatment, it was what Jareth needed. He needed her to submit and placate to him for his own sense of emotional security. She'd sensed that well enough -and was it not a wife's job to support her husband? He was afraid. He'd never shown her that side of himself, she'd never even thought it could exist, and she knew she needed to respect the gravity of the intimate moment they'd shared. And so she complied. She bit her tongue. Shut her mouth. Folded her hands in her lap and played the happy wife who would not so much as reach a finger out a window lest it attract a passing mosquito. It seemed to be working well enough. He was relaxing more, day by day. Although...she was not sure how much longer she could endure it.

The sound of laughter distracted her, and both she and Mariella peered over towards the source of it resonating at the end of the hall.

Sarah paused when the image of Jareth, accompanied by Roldan, appeared from around the next corner. He was laughing. They both were? Yes. They were definitely both laughing. Together. Like friends. Roldan's smile was awkward and reluctant, but it was real. They were staring at one another, like a couple of school boys, snickering at something that was, in all likelihood, reprehensible. It painted an odd portrait. Very odd. Sarah wondered if she'd ever even heard Roldan laugh before.

Even Marie seemed surprised by this, as she scrunched her brow and cocked her head to one side.

"Are...they actually getting along?" she asked. Sarah's brow rose. They were still a ways away, and hadn't yet noticed they were watching.

"...Looks like it."

"My...I don't think I've ever seen them laugh together like that. It's rather cute, isn't it?"

Sarah glared up at Marie, who was already smiling and biting her tongue like an imp. Sarah grinned in spite of herself, and shook her head as she looked away.

Roldan, who was also shaking his head in response to whatever bit of nastiness Jareth had just said, shoved a folder into the satchel he carried, and then his eye caught on their movement up ahead. He looked up, and so did Jareth.

Jareth's eyes caught Sarah's immediately and her breath hitched, suffering an instinctive jolt of panic at the realization that she'd been caught, red-handed, outside the parameters of her jail cell.

His smile turned into something else, something that had come to be reserved solely for her. It curled on one side, and it came with a glint of fang.

"Ah. Good morning, ladies," he said -a perfect picture of cheer. Sarah, still standing awkwardly in the center of the hall, finally broke free of herself and approached them.

"It's after noon, actually," she said, in a less enthusiastic tone. She averted her gaze from him, though she wasn't quite sure why. Mariella, suffering an opposite reaction, grinned from ear to ear and pressed her hands together.

"A good day indeed, Your Majesty," she said, and bowed. "And to you too, Master Roldan. What a nice surprise to have run into you here."

"Yes. Surprise," Jareth said, ominously. Sarah narrowed her eyes on him but it was Roldan who spoke first.

"It's been quite a while, Your Majesty. Are you feeling well?"

Sarah, caught off guard by the casual sincerity of Roldan's question, blinked like an idiot before responding. That's right. They hadn't crossed paths since she'd left for the alms giving.

"Um...yeah. All better," she said, stealing a glance at Jareth who, at that specific moment, was giving Roldan a very bored side-eye. Hm.

Roldan's eyes flickered down and up again, visually inspecting her as if her words were not good enough.

"Good," he said, and crossed his arms. "You gave the castle quite the scare the other day. It's nice to see you're finally out and about. Maybe now the goblins will calm down."

"Calm down? Oh. I...didn't realize they were upset-" she said, and frowned as she thought over the possible extent of the local panic. The day the Labyrinth wall had fallen, Jareth's throne room, hell, the entire city, had been in shambles.

"Of course they're upset," Jareth said, pulling her from her imminent doldrums. She looked up from the floor and his eyes found hers with intention. He even cocked a facetious brow at her. "You are their precious Queen."

"Haven't you told them I'm fine?"

"Yes-" Roldan said, and she looked over at him. "Though...seeing is believing, and all of that." He rolled a hand as he spoke, his tone, let alone the gesture, conveying his extreme displeasure on the matter. He really did not care for goblins.

"Oh...should I like...present myself or something?" she asked. Jareth, as tactful as ever, successfully restrained a huff.

"They will settle in their own time," he said, and she pursed her lips. "You are, after all, still grounded." Oh. And there it was. After three days of passive imprisonment, it seemed he had indeed not forgotten. Damn. Sarah frowned and looked away. "Which brings me to this rather loud elephant in the room. As much as I enjoy chance meetings, what are you doing all the way down here?" There was a bit of mischief in his voice as he'd asked that, something that had Sarah blanching on reflex. She looked at him once more, only now her frown was turning into a scowl.

"I...we went to visit Sir Didymus," she said, and looked back at Mariella. "Creak came and said he woke up this morning." When she turned back to Jareth there was uncertainty in tow. "He also said it was okay for me to go see him. I assumed that order came from you?" She was staring at him rather intently and, for just a brief second, he wished they were alone. Oh, how that pouting lower lip begged to be bitten...

Pushing away such inappropriate thoughts, he blinked and smiled at her.

"Right. Silly me. Apparently, I'm a bit forgetful today," he said, and peered over at Roldan shrewdly. This statement was confirmed by the way Roldan then rolled his eyes and shook his head with disapproval. "But…" Jareth continued, his eyes gaining a trace more focus. "I believe you've already passed the stairwell leading back to your level. Pushing your luck so soon? Pet?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms defensively.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Your Majesty," she said, sarcastically. "We were just taking the scenic route." -Which, in her defense, was true. She was starting to pout, however, and looked away from him sharply. Mariella, not wanting such a pleasant day to be ruined so stupidly, chose that moment to push the advantage.

"Yes. We were discussing where we might like to have lunch," she piped up. Jareth, who'd been giving Sarah a rather predatory look, glanced over at the nymph challengingly.

"Really?"

Forcing a smile, Mariella carried on.

"Quite. We were talking about what a lovely day it is and how nice it would be to dine out on a balcony. Of course, we would never defy His Majesty's orders. T'was simple musings. A parlor will do just as well." If Jareth did not already know exactly what kind of woman Mariella was, even he might have been swayed by her display of feminine wiles just now. She fluttered her lashes and smiled widely. Was just oh-so-sincere. She really was well practiced. No doubt, Davion's favorite whore. He smiled at her, but it was a nasty expression without any pleasantry at all.

"Is that so?" he asked, with a hint of laughter to carry the words. Gods, had she really expected him to take her seriously? Sarah, not quite picking up on any of this, flickered her eyes away and back again, and stood stiffly.

"Yeah…" she said, and he glanced down at her. "You could always join us, if you want...both of you." Her eyes darted between Jareth and Roldan, wondering whether or not her offer would be construed as absurd. Roldan arched a brow and looked at Jareth, who tilted his head as he regarded Sarah.

"We really should be getting back to work-"

"We would love to."

Roldan, miffed for being so rudely interrupted, glared at Jareth as a wide smile stretched across his face. Sarah, feeling suddenly put on the spot, darted her eyes anywhere but at him.

"Cool," she said and, not anticipating such an eager response, took an awkward side-step. "Anywhere in particular you'd like-"

"A balcony," Jareth interrupted. Sarah closed her mouth. "There's one not too far from here, I believe. Your maid is right-" and he glanced back at Roldan. "The weather is superb. What do you say?" Roldan held his stare, mildly skeptical, and then shrugged.

"I guess."

"Oh goodie!" Mariella clapped the tips of her fingers together with glee, and skipped a little towards Roldan. She really hadn't expected Jareth to take her bait so willingly, but Sarah was just looking so depressed, she had to at least try. Good thing they'd caught him in such a fine mood. Now Sarah could go outside! She was so happy, she did not even think about asking for Roldan's consent before lacing her arm with his. The zeal of her gesture forced him to turn on his heel and, very suddenly, she was leading him away. "Come, come, Master Roldan. Best be off. I am famished."

A small amused huff escaped Jareth's nose as he stared after a very awkward-looking Roldan. He and Sarah had not yet moved, still facing one another. After a moment, he looked down to her and cocked his head.

"Well?"

Sarah looked away, not quite finished with her glower.

"I'm not a pet," she said, petulantly. Jareth wriggled his brow at her. "So please, do not throw me bones like one." She spoke matter-of-factly which, oddly, only amused him further. He quirked a brow at her, but otherwise managed to restrain himself from poking fun. She looked troubled, though he got the feeling it was over something other than lunch.

"Would you rather I lock you in your room while the three of us enjoy a pleasant meal instead?" he asked. She huffed.

"Please. As if you would ever subject yourself to such a thing without me as an incentive," she said, mockingly. Jareth grinned. She'd had such a little temper about her these last few days. But it was different from before. It wasn't fueled by defiance and hate. No, it was trite and sparky and cute. Honestly, It might have bothered him more if he wasn't still reeling from the fact that she was even alive. -Oh, and that she'd finally admitted she loved him.

"You know me only too well," he said, and reached out to pull her in by the waist. She wasn't expecting it and stumbled a little. He wrapped his arms around her hips and held her pressed to him. Her arms were still crossed, holding steadfast, when he knew her first instinct was to reach out and touch him as well.

"How long am I going to be grounded for? Being a full-grown adult, it's starting to feel kind of degrading."

"Your pride will be the death of you. It's been all of three days." His hold on her was tender, but it had absolutely no effect. In fact, it seemed to work in reverse as she then glared over at him. His teasing smile humbled. So. Darn. Cute. "Do you want to go to lunch or not?" he asked. His tone was appeasing. Everything about him was so damn appeasing. It was hard to stay annoyed at him.

Her lower lip protruded as she pouted a little harder -his urge to bite it renewed.

"I do," she conceded and, when he let go of her waist to presumably turn away and join the others, she found herself reaching out and clasping his hand on reflex. He paused and looked back. "But...there's something I want to talk to you about first."

Sensing something a bit more serious than scant annoyance, Jareth faced her expectantly.

"Alright."

Sarah's eyes averted, and she bit the inside of her lip.

"When I was talking with Didymus and Baldur...They mentioned something about being punished," she started, not quite sure how to best go about this. Sensing her trepidation, Jareth's brow drew tighter and he tilted his head a little.

"Did they?"

"Yes." and she lifted her gaze to look him in the eye. "They said they failed their pledge as Knights and that they would be punished for it. That you might even revoke their knighthoods…" Her words trailed away along with her stare, and it became clear to him that this was a matter more personal to her than it should have been. He was starting to frown. She looked very worried.

"And?" he asked. There was a tick in Sarah's expression. She inhaled to compose herself and then looked back up at him.

"And I wanted to know what you planned on doing." She let go of his hand and crossed her arms. "Baldur said you haven't given an order yet. So I just…"

"You realize I could have them hanged for such profound negligence, yes?" Jareth interjected. Sarah froze and clenched her biceps. "You almost died. You were mortally wounded and it was totally avoidable."

"Yes, but that's all on me," she said, suddenly impassioned. She gulped and stood a little taller. "Baldur and Didymus did everything they could to protect me. Didymus was ready to die just to be a distraction while I escaped. And Baldur-"

"Your Captain is the most accountable of all," he said. She paused. Jareth's eyes, becoming more and more serious, trained on her face. Sarah gulped again. "He should have prevented you from going anywhere near Didymus's body. The opportunity to poison yourself should not have existed at all."

"So he's no more accountable than yourself then?" she countered. Surprisingly, Jareth shut his mouth. Not wanting to let the opportunity slip, she ignored the new tension she saw in his jaw and carried on. "You were there too. You were just as caught up in the moment as the rest of us. Should I be allowed to annul our marriage because you also failed in your pledge to protect me? Husband?" There was heavy inflection in her tone, something Jareth did not at all appreciate. He felt a tick moving through his clenched jaw, but was able to suppress the instinct to retaliate. Behind his stung pride, he knew she was absolutely right. She stared at him with hard eyes, eyes that fought to prove their conviction while still quibbling with worry. He took a moment to carefully choose his response, then exhaled through his nose, slowly.

"What would you have me do then? My Queen?" he asked, with a low, guarded tone. Sarah gulped and re-tensed the grip she had on her arms. She could tell she'd hit a nerve, and was honestly caught off guard he'd chosen to remain passive. From the way he was staring at her, however, she knew that if she didn't wise up that state would not last long.

"I...I don't want you to revoke their knighthood," she said, standing a little taller. "And...I want them to stay on as my Guard." Jareth's brow rose in response to her audacity, though he remained quiet. Sarah licked her lips, which were now as dry as the desert. "And...I don't want them physically hurt as punishment."

She kept her eyes locked with his as she waited for a verdict. Though, no matter how stern she thought she might be, it was impossible to conceal the very slight recoil in her posture. Jareth, stone-faced, exhaled again.

"Anything else?"

Sarah blinked. Was that...was that a yes?

"No…" she said, skeptically. "I also...wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

She shifted uncomfortably and kept her eyes strictly away from him. Jareth's stare roamed over her, wanting so badly to tear those nervous fingers away from herself.

"For checking up on him," she said, and stole a peek up at him. "You have been keeping an eye on Didymus, yes?"Jareth's brow knitted and to her he looked confused. She elaborated a little more- "You've known the status of his condition these past few days. You knew that he woke up this morning, and told Creak that I could go visit him. So...thanks for that."

For about the tenth time, Sarah's eyes drifted away from him. And, for about the tenth time, Jareth fought the urge to snap at her to stop doing such a thing. While she was indeed submissive and demure, he did not like the lack of confidence she displayed in such moments. Like she was afraid of him. Like she thought her efforts were futile. Was he really so unreasonable? And yet she still asked...

Jareth sighed as his eyes passed vacantly through her.

"You're lucky-" he said, and she peered back curiously. He caught her gaze, and waited a beat to make sure she would not dart it away. "They will be...suspended," he continued, enunciating the last word as if it was new to his vocabulary. Sarah's expression brightened very quickly, creating a preemptive light of hope that he was equally quick in curbing. He pointed a stern index finger up in the space between them. "-pending a very rigorous retraining."

Sarah blinked and, while he thought adding such a stipulation would humble her, in reality the spark in her eye grew exponentially. Her frown widened into an amazed kind of smile, and she almost laughed.

"Wha-really?"

"Are you surprised?" Jareth asked, feeling a little offended by such a dramatic reaction. "Does mercy not suit me?" he added. Sarah's gaping smile devolved into a regular gape, and her passion faded. What he wanted to say was, "see what happens when you ask nicely?" but wisely refrained. Moments where he could show her he could be something other than her initial presumption were to be savoured, and, despite his pride, he intended to do so, fully.

Realizing her reaction had been less than tactful, she darted her eyes away and drew her brow together.

"N-no. I just...thank you. Thank you, Jareth," she said, fighting back residual disbelief, and relief, over the fact. Wow. That was so easy. A part of her thought such a request would turn into a whole thing. Wasn't this a breath of fresh air?

Pondering her curious moment of bliss, she left herself unaware of the now impatient scrutiny of the very generous Goblin King. He reached out and grasped her jaw, then jerked her forward so she stumbled into him. She caught herself against his chest but did not brace for the kiss he soon sealed over her open mouth.

She tasted him on her tongue, but, before it could be savoured, the moment was over just as quickly as it had been initiated.

"You're welcome," he said, and rubbed a gentle thumb over her lip where he'd bitten it. "Now...may we get a move on? Gods know what trials your nymph is subjecting our poor Roldan to."

In a manner that still felt too awkward and surreal to be fully appreciated, Sarah held Jareth's hand as they walked all the way to their dining spot. It was not far, though the walk, in utter silence, made it seem much longer. She gripped his hand a little tighter than necessary, and told herself it was only because he had such a long stride, which made him difficult to keep up with.

She lowered her head and smiled gleefully, feeling so triumphant she'd managed to secure the wellbeing of her friends. But then again, maybe she was being arrogant. Maybe Jareth never had any intention of punishing them, which would have made her efforts just now a rather laughable farce. Regardless, she prided herself all the same.

She let go of his hand once they came to the door to the balcony, which was already propped open. Light was shining through into the hall, and she could hear the sound of birds chirping somewhere closeby.

With a hand at her back, he gestured for her to enter first -a very misleading display of decorum. The contact sparked something in her, something that had her regretting the shared company.

Mariella and Roldan were standing together at the far end of the balcony, close to the railing, and chatting idly as he poured her a drink from a conveniently placed cart. There was a table behind them, a quaint little thing -white painted iron that was twisted and curled into an elegant botanical design- with four chairs seated intimately addressing one another. There were planters hanging from the railing, which curved around the perimeter of the balcony in an ovular shape -it was a new addition at Sarah's suggestion (in the effort to liven the place up a bit). Curly little vines and pretty pink flowers now framed the space and, much to her satisfaction, had been attracting all kinds of otherworldly insects and birds and fairies. Every balcony had been redecorated in such a fashion. Every patio. Every terrace. Every little nook or cranny that could be filled with something cheerful, was. It had been a fun project for her and Mariella, and the castle goblins, over the last couple of weeks. Maybe that was partially why her imprisonment bothered so much. She had hardly the chance to enjoy the fruit of her labours.

She regarded their surroundings with a stupid little smile as the two of them walked, side by side, to join the others. Sarah's eyes caught on a hanging bird bath off to the side, a translucent, crystal teardrop that hung from an iron hook. There was the source of the chirping she'd heard from the hall, and she grinned wider at the little ball of feathers that was busy preening itself in the water with such blissful ignorance. She peered up to Jareth, but he wasn't paying attention. She almost asked what he thought of the changes, but didn't. Aside from a passing compliment on her aesthetic choices for the newly refurbished throne room, Jareth had not so much as acknowledged any of the other changes she'd been making to their home. And she'd be damned if she came off as seeking his approval by fishing. No, she told herself his opinion did not matter in the slightest. She was the head of the house now. She could do whatever she wanted.

A part of her debated painting the castle walls pink and hanging banners with profane hand signs, as she'd once threatened, just to see if he would notice.

"Took you long enough," Roldan called out, handing Mariella her drink and simultaneously turning back to greet them. "Did you get lost?"

"Only for a moment," Jareth said, grinning as they all came to stand together. Turning away, Roldan's attention went back to the drink cart as he started collecting glasses.

"Do you want something to drink, Sarah?" he asked -on principle. She saw he was holding a wine decanter, and curled her tongue at it.

"Just water is fine," she said. Roldan glanced back, shrugged, and then set the decanter down in lieu for a pitcher of water.

"Bourbon, I'm assuming, Jareth?" he asked from over his shoulder. Though his words were phrased as a question, it did not seem to be one as Roldan then handed Jareth an already prepared tumbler. Jareth accepted and took a sip.

"I wasn't sure how long you would be, so I prepared the space in your absence. I hope you don't mind," Mariella said, and, while she was speaking to Sarah, Sarah realized the latter half of her sentence was in all likelihood directed at Jareth. This realization helped stop herself from asking why the hell she would mind Mariella ordering drinks.

"We were only a few minutes behind you. You got a lot done," Sarah replied, eyeing the too-cute table and chairs that were now, for peculiar reasons, unsettling Sarah's nerves. The four of them had never been together like this -willingly and under totally casual circumstances. The only time they'd all eaten together was at Davion's, and at that time they had all been sitting in a line on the same side of the table. This whole scenario just felt odd all of the sudden. Roldan offered her a glass, which she accepted wordlessly.

"Yes, well, I wasn't joking when I said I was famished. Shall we take our seat?" Marie smiled and gestured towards the table. Sarah went first, sitting at the farthest side nearest the railing. To her right was Jareth. To her left, Marie. Roldan sat across from her. They were so close they could touch elbows. Damn, this was fucking weird.

Sarah seemed to be the only one harbouring such feelings, for, as she looked around the table, in contrast to Mariella's unbridled contentment, the men looked whole-heartedly disinterested. They were both looking away, Roldan off into the clouds and Jareth down into his glass as they waited for the goblins to arrive.

Sarah folded her hands in her lap.

"So...the renovations came out nice," Sarah said to Marie, who, thankfully, pushed away all opportunity for awkwardness with sheer exclamation.

"Oh, haven't they, though? I was worried when we were barred from supervising the goblins, but they've just done a marvelous job. I hope here is an accurate representation of the rest of the castle. Just imagining how lovely this place could be with a little tender love and care takes my breath away." She shook her head and placed a hand firmly over her heart. From anyone else, she might have suspected the gesture to be sarcastic, but not Mariella. No, of course she meant every word she said. It took some of her tension away, which allowed her to spy on the other two.

"It does look nice," Roldan said, from behind the brim of his cup. Sarah's brow lifted. Oh. A compliment? Honestly, she'd expected more from Jareth. She smiled at him wryly.

"Really? So not a waste of time then?" she asked, teasingly. Roldan closed his eyes and shrugged.

"I admit, I am very surprised the throne room has not yet succumbed to those creature's incessant shenanigans. -Though I still think it is but a matter of time," and he paused to set his chalice down on the table. "Landscaping, however, is something goblins are well-suited towards. Menial tasks are their forte. Train them in the arts of the scholars and the physicians, and you'll truly color me impressed."

"With such a low opinion, it's a wonder this castle hasn't yet burned to the ground," Sarah said, sarcastically, and shot Jareth an eye. "Isn't your council made entirely of goblins?" Jareth set his glass on the table as well, though kept his hand firmly around it.

"Indeed," he said, and gave Roldan a sly side-eye. "Why do you think our dear Roldan is such a busy-body? He simply cannot, after all these years, allow himself to rely on my judgement."

Roldan huffed and rolled his eyes.

"You rely too much on delegation."

"And you're a micromanager."

Sarah hid behind her cup the same as Marie as they watched the banter unfold. Jareth was grinning, reclining leisurely and, while Roldan was as poised as ever, there was a noticeable ease about him too. She remembered seeing them like this when they were practicing archery, and it was just as peculiar then, too.

Before anyone else had the chance to speak, a couple of goblins arrived pushing a dining cart. They bowed and then set a covered tray in front of each of them.

"Thank you, Gorbulk," Sarah said, peering down just as the goblin released her tray. Gorbulk jittered and bowed, concealing a huge smile on his face.

"You's welcome, M-majesty," he said, and then scuttled away.

"And Thanks to you, Perry," Mariella said, addressing the other goblin. It too bowed. Sarah peered up at Jareth and Roldan intently, half urging, half wondering if they would humor her new house rule. Roldan caught Sarah's eye, and he grumbled.

"Thank you for your truly excellent service," Jareth suddenly said, surprising them all. Sarah looked over at him with a gape. His attention, however, was on the pair of goblins. He was slouching in his chair, and tapped a finger against his tumbler before tilting his head lazily. "Do give my commendation to your supervisor," he added, and the tiny things nearly jumped with glee. They started to huff and puff, and bowed all the way to the floor in response to such high praise.

"Thank you. Thank you, Your Majesty," they said, repeatedly, and then quickly absconded with the cart. Jareth stared after them with a hollow smile, before turning back to the three of them, totally ignorant of the shock that rendered their faces.

"Something the matter?" he asked the lot of them. Mariella blinked and then averted her gaze. Roldan's held strong. Sarah however, scowled.

"Could you be any more sarcastic?" she asked, scoldingly. Jareth huffed and took another sip of his drink. Sarah shook her head and looked away. "At least they didn't pick up on it-"

"Yes. I probably just gave new meaning to their tiny little lives. You're welcome." The playfulness she heard in his voice made her scowl harder, but she chose to let it go.

"At least you tried," she said, dismissively, and rolled her eyes back at him. Jareth grinned and spied on Roldan.

"Which is more than we can say for you, Roldan," he said, stifling a chuckle at the way he stifled a groan. He was scowling, and shook his head as he looked away. "It was very rude of you not to address them, you know. And very bold, defying the decree of The Queen to her own face like that."

And then Sarah sighed. Jareth had that alpha-male air about him now that usually resulted in something unnecessary. Already Roldan was starting to squirm under it. But even so, his words were not untrue. She rolled her eyes between the two males.

"It's fine," she said, sternly. Roldan, still engaged in a quiet pissing match with Jareth through their locked stares, broke away from it and looked over at her. "Jareth's right. They looked positively ecstatic just now. It's not a big deal that not all of us thanked them," she said, a little beside herself that she actually had to reassure him like this. Honestly, sometimes the two of them were no better than children. When the hell did she get so mature?

"So merciful. Are you sure you don't want him flogged?" Jareth asked, provokingly. Sarah glared. He looked too damn comfortable with that one-sided grin.

"I'd rather flog you for making a mockery of what should be a common courtesy. I didn't think getting the two of you to say thank you was going to be such a big deal," she lectured, not quite aware of her tone as it hardened with reproach. Mariella pursed her lips and averted her gaze. Roldan was quiet as well. Jareth, however, leaned towards her over the table with a very inappropriate look on his face.

"Ah, so I'm to be punished then?" His hands laced together over the table and he stared at her patiently. Sarah felt her cheeks inflame, but did not dare look away. He was holding her stare steadfast, and, the longer the challenge remained unanswered, the more her embarrassment was replaced by annoyance.

"Don't sound so eager. Maybe I will punish Roldan instead."

Having expected a response that was definitely not that, Jareth choked on a burst of laughter so sudden that it, thankfully, shattered whatever weird tension had been brewing about the four of them. He smiled widely and leaned back into his seat, chuckling, and glanced down as he rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand. Sarah scowled harder as she watched this, as she watched him react with such excessive amusement that it actually became insulting. Focused on her husband and no one else, Sarah failed to notice the subsequent tensing, paling, and deflating of Roldan sitting directly across from her. He glanced away, swallowing hard and adjusting the collar of his coat as if the summer weather was just now getting to him. Mariella, feeling so incredibly awkward and giddy at the same time, bit down on the rim of her cup as she took tiny sips.

"As fun as it is receiving idle threats, may we get on with our meal?" Roldan asked, as casually as possible. Sarah, still not quite grasping the gravity of her quip, turned away from Jareth to stare at Roldan.

"Yeah. So long as a certain King thinks he can handle civilized conversation?" she said, peering back at said King. Jareth, holding a crooked finger against his lips, eyed her dangerously. Oh, what a defiant look she was giving him. His stare on her alone was enough to convey all the terrible things he was thinking of doing to her in that one brief moment.

"...perhaps I'll just shut my mouth," he said, with so much arrogance it was damn-near tangible. Sarah huffed and looked away. There was a very brief pause, and then Mariella took a dive.

"Right…" she said, awkwardly, trying to figure out how best to navigate their collective mood in a way that would not end in disaster. "So...what have you decided on for us today, Sarah?" She held her hands curled upright in front of her, hesitant to reach out for her tray. In gatherings such as this, it was custom for The Queen to decide everyone's meal. Sarah didn't really care about that but, at the moment, neither did she really care for the preference of her King.

"Um...turkey sandwiches sound good," she said, and pulled back the lid on her tray. She grinned and her mouth watered as she stared down at it. Roldan, watching her curiously, furrowed his brow as he removed the lid to his own, as did Mariella and Jareth. Sarah did not hesitate before digging in.

"Really? Again?" Mariella asked. Sarah paused mid-chew.

"Um...yeah? Why? Have we been having this a lot?" she asked. She was staring at Mariella, unaware of the way Roldan fingered through the alien forms of his potato chips with something of both confusion and distaste. Jareth did not look like he intended to eat anything at all.

"No...I suppose not. It's just been the third time this week," Mariella said. Sarah shrugged.

"Oh. What can I say? It's my favorite meal." Was it the fancied, most special or complicated dish? No. But there was just something about processed deli meat and mayonnaise that really kicked her taste buds into gear. As their meal progressed, Sarah waited for Roldan to use this to confirm her lack of culture.

"...This is your favorite meal?" And there it was. Or rather, he was leading up to it. Sarah swallowed her mouthful and stared at him deadpan.

"Yes. Just eat it. It's good. Trust me," she said, and started in on her chips. "Not sure it will pair well with wine though. ...or bourbon for that matter," she added, glancing over at Jareth who, to his word, had not yet bothered to speak.

"Well, you are the expert in these matters," he said, sarcastically, and, with total disregard, tossed his drink, glass n' all, over his shoulder and off the balcony entirely. Sarah actually gasped, and cut short an impulsive chuckle while simultaneously scowling -caught between the urge to reprimand him and just appreciate the joke for what it was. Roldan however, was not so conflicted. He merely shook his head and frowned.

"You didn't need to be so dramatic about it," she said, smiling in spite of herself as she turned back to her meal. It was impossible, however, to take her eyes away from him just then. They lingered playfully, and he smirked in response.

"No, I didn't," he said, and plopped a salty potato chip into his mouth.

This was nice. This was actually...very nice. It was easy. Casual. Friendly. It wasn't too long ago when such a scenario between the four of them would have been impossible, which had Sarah appreciating it all the more. As they ate their food, remaining tensions eased and, all of the sudden, even Marie was speaking with a level of familiarity -to Jareth especially- that she'd never before displayed. And Jareth was receptive. He actually talked back to her. Wow. Seeing the two of them getting along, for maybe the first time ever, made Sarah happier than she had anticipated. She finished her meal long before anyone else, and placed a hand in her lap as she quietly observed. The weird feeling from earlier had been sated. Maybe she was just hungry.

Eventually, everyone finished their meals, and the goblins Perry and Gorbulk returned with a dessert cart.

"Ooh, I think I'll have the strawberry tart," Mariella said, smiling so sweetly at Perry, who handed her the plate with delicate fingers. Roldan and Jareth had each opted for a scone. Sarah, naturally, called dibs on the largest piece of chocolate cake her eyes could spy on.

"So Jareth, I don't believe you ever answered my question earlier," Roldan said, cutting into his pastry with delicacy.

"What question is that?"

"Have you already packed, or would you like me to take care of that for you?"

Sarah paused from her delectable onslaught and peered up at the both of them.

"Pack? Pack for what?" she asked. Roldan looked over at her and blinked.

"Has he not mentioned?" Roldan asked. Sarah stared expectantly. "I assumed that's what you were discussing in the hall...No matter. Jareth is set to leave for Sulu in the morning-"

"What?" Sarah interjected, shooting her stare over to Jareth. "You didn't tell me you're going to Sulu." Jareth, feigning apathy, shrugged and cut his scone with his fork.

"I had forgotten," he said, and took a bite. "Roldan was kind enough to remind me of it this morning." Sarah frowned a little and she sagged in her seat.

"Oh. How long will you be gone for?" she asked. Roldan, about to give it all away, stopped himself at the sound of Jareth's fork being placed on his plate.

"A few days. A week at the most."

All of the sudden, just like that, Sarah felt the air of cheer that had been lifting her up utterly deflate. She stared at him, with disappointment, not just because it meant a week without seeing him -as heartbreaking as that was- but because she remembered a time when he had explicitly promised to take her with him. She was really looking forward to this trip. Another chance to get out and see the kingdom. But now, it seemed she was to sit home with her thumb up her ass. Why the hell did she have to touch the damn Labyrinth?

"I see...Have fun, I guess," she said, despondent. Mariella frowned. Roldan, wondering what the hell Jareth was playing at, glared over at him discreetly. Jareth, already thoroughly gratified by her display, chose to take pity sooner than intended.

"I will. Or rather, we will."

Sarah's head darted back over to face him so quickly it was comical. He tried, oh he really did, to smother the grin that was allowed no more than to curl the ends of his lips.

"What?" she asked, her eyes widening fractionally at the way his grin creeped. "I get to go too?"

"Do you still want to go?"

"Yes!"

The level of excitement that exuded from every aspect of Sarah's being was beyond melodramatic and entirely unwarranted. She even leaned forward in her seat, beaming over at him with gaping, desperate eyes. God, she was so sick of being locked in this castle. She was going stir crazy. She wanted, no, needed to get out of here. She was so impassioned, she did not even care what kind of impression she was making. She would beg him if he asked her. Okay, maybe not beg, but still -she really, really wanted to go.

Jareth, regarding her with something of tenderness, tilted his head as he leaned back in his seat, and crossed his arms lightly over his chest.

"Then you shall go."

Sarah smiled so widely it nearly broke her face and, after seeing just how smug Jareth had become in reaction to it, was something that made Roldan want to smack the expression clear off Jareth's face. What a stupid way to manipulate the girl. He'd quite clearly already made his decision well before this luncheon. This display of cat and mouse was gross and not something Roldan wanted any part of. As he continued to spy on Sarah, smiling so gaily at a very duplicitous Jareth, he realized he was angry for another reason entirely. It was not fair to make her smile like that under false pretenses. What? Did he really just think that?

"Are we all going then?"

Both Roldan and Jareth blinked in response to Sarah's surprise question. She, now standing with her hands pressed firmly to the table, looked between the two eagerly.

"What?"

"I mean, I assume Mariella is going if I am. I can't exactly leave her behind, right?" she continued, glancing back at Marie who only stared back with a spoon hanging out of her mouth. "And, if Marie goes, it's only fair that you go too, Roldan. Doesn't make sense to leave you here all alone."

"Oh, what fun!" Marie exclaimed, setting her spoon down on her plate and clapping her hands. Sarah, knowing very well that she was getting ahead of herself, used her girlish exuberance to her benefit, and turned back to Jareth with a touch of fluttering lashes.

Jareth stared up at her, steeled, and, for a moment, she thought he saw through her. However, the sound of Roldan's chair scraping against the stone blocks of the floor as he stood from his seat broke the moment before it could come to head. Sarah glanced over to him to find him waving a flippant hand in the air.

"That is all wholly unnecessary," he said, turning away as he, apparently, went to refill his cup. "I don't need your pity invitation. And, as Jareth has already said, I have a problem with delegation. Best I was here to manage things while you are gone for such a length of time."

Sarah frowned at the back of Roldan's head. He was good at forcing disinterest, but right now Sarah saw only what she wanted to see -a very sad little fae who wanted nothing more than a family to belong to. My, what melodrama indeed.

She peered down to Marie and arched her brow in Roldan's direction. Picking up on the cue, Mariella immediately stood and left to join him.

"Goodness...It seems I'm in need of another refill already…" she muttered, and scampered off.

Sarah turned her attention back to Jareth, who was patiently awaiting the continuation of their bargaining -er, conversation.

She sat down and scooted her chair closer to his.

"So? Can we all go?"

Jareth, having become fully reposed, now crossed an ankle over his knee and held a knuckle pressed to his mouth as his jaw rested in his hand. He was staring at her. Sizing her up, it would seem.

"Roldan is right. It would be better to leave him behind," he said, flatly. Sarah scowled.

"You were fine with him going up north with us," she pointed out.

"There is also a transdimensional gate connecting his walls to mine. If there was an issue, I could return to the Capital instantly. There are no such shortcuts between here and Sulu. If we leave together, it will be nearly a two day journey just to get there."

Sarah's brow rose. She hadn't realized that.

"Oh. Well...I guess Roldan's right then. If you're worried about leaving the castle in the care of your Council for one week, then I guess you don't have as much faith in your own staff as you claim. Maybe you do delegate too much," she said, oh-so-shrewdly. Jareth's index finger tapped against his lips as he regarded her. She held her head high, raised her nose at him, and shrugged.

"Clever girl," he said, with a darkened sense of amusement. "Come here," he said, and extended a hand to her that was anything but casual. Sarah eyed it with trepidation, then glanced at the pair of fae still chatting over at the drink cart. Tentatively, she reached out and placed her hand in his. Predictably, his fingers curled and he jerked her forward. She stumbled out of her seat and straight into his lap.

Mariella, reacting instinctively to Sarah's panicky 'oof', peered over slyly and then spoke a little louder, making sure to hold Roldan's attention. Oh goody, maybe she'd get to witness some more of their curious antics first hand.

Sarah blushed and pushed out of his hold, though only succeeded in cementing it. He sat her on his thigh, gripping both her wrists tightly in her lap with one hand while the other lightly grasped the nape of her neck. At least her back was to Marie and Roldan. Though she cowered all the same.

"Let me go, will you? There are people nearby." She spoke hushed, her eyes darting furiously to the side. Jareth grinned. Oh, if only they were watching.

"Don't worry, they're pretending not to notice," he said, haughtily, and snickered when Sarah once again fought against his hold.

"That attitude isn't helping," she said, and sighed roughly when she realized she was not getting free. Jareth tilted his head and urged her to look at him.

"Why do you want him to go so badly?" he asked, in a softer tone to convey he was through playing. Sarah frowned at him.

"I don't. I just thought...if it was the three of us then Marie might feel like an awkward third wheel. If Roldan comes then they can hang out with each other while we-um…" and she stopped dead. Her lips pursed and her wide eyes were kept strictly averted. Jareth's grin stretched. She was so cute it was becoming difficult to restrain himself. His grip on her wrists adjusted and she felt the bare pads of his fingers lightly press against her palm.

"Your maid can stay here as well. Would that not give us even more privacy?" he asked. Rather than rile her further, he watched as Sarah's frown deepened.

"But I don't want her to stay behind," she said, childishly. She bit her cheek and looked back over at him. "I want Marie to come with us. She wants to see the kingdom too. She's my friend, and it'll be nice to have someone to talk to while you're off doing business things -which I assume was the original intention of this trip. Besides…" and her voice trailed off again. Although, this time, there was something wayward in her gaze that he didn't quite understand. "The three of you are like my family now. I think we should be together more. Like today. This has been...really nice."

Without either realizing it, Jareth had let go of her wrists entirely as he listened to her. There was a sadness about her, an odd hint of resentment over the fact that this was as good a replacement she was going to get for the family she had lost -or maybe that was his own resentment he was projecting. She seemed vulnerable, conflicted and, in all honesty, it was something he struggled to comprehend. A family? She viewed Roldan and that nymph as her family? What, was she expecting him to feel the same? It had been a long time since she had even uttered the word. The idea felt preposterous, and yet in that moment he would say anything, give her anything, so long as she continued to look so sweet.

He lifted his hand from her lap and held the side of her face. She brought her eyes up to his and they were round and beseeching. Gods, what a potent look. What a fierce display of wiles that he doubted she was even aware of. What a lovely thing. What a beautiful bit of scrutiny to wither under.

"Alright then," he said, tenderly, and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "But you don't need to sound so pitiful about it. It was only lunch."

She smiled at his jest and turned her face into his hand. He lost himself in her for that split second, in the way the sunlight illuminated her pale face against the blackness of her hair. Without thinking, he pulled her forward and kissed her.

Roldan stared out of the corner of his eye at the god-awful moment he could not believe was happening in front of him. At first, he did not understand why Mariella was so insistent on talking with him here rather than back at the table, but the way her own eyes kept darting off to the side was not exactly shrewd. He gripped his glass tightly and looked away. There was something of shame brewing in his gut, but more than that, there was offense.

Mariella licked her lips and smiled friskily as she looked back at Roldan. Oh, Sarah was going to be so very embarrassed about this. It would be wicked of her to put her on the spot once the men parted ways. But oh, how could she not! This was just too cute! Hopefully, that smooch meant His Majesty's answer was yes, which had her feeling doubly excited. She'd never been to the Sulu district, never been to the southern kingdom at all. What a fun surprise the day had brought!

Sarah pulled away from the kiss with a misty look in her eye. She was aware of, but no longer cared about, the fae at her back. She loved when he was sweet like this. When he touched her so delicately and looked at her with such reverence. She pressed her forehead to his briefly and then sighed. It would be too easy to get caught up in one another, but they were still in the presence of company. She couldn't help but crack a smile. As if Jareth would care for such things.

"You're being awfully accommodating today," she said, lightheartedly. Jareth arched a brow and inhaled deeply.

"I told you, I would give you the world if you'd only let me. All you ever have to do is ask." His thumb brushed against her mouth and she nipped at it, smiling as she did so. One of her hands left her lap and grasped the crook of his neck. He was wearing a loose white shirt today. It hung open in the chest and sat wide on his shoulders. Her fingers trailed absently over his clavicle and down his chest.

"Will you unground me, then?" she asked, playing into the mood and hoping, so direly, that she could seduce her way out of this. Jareth regarded her carefully, then pulled her in for one final kiss. When he pulled away, he pinched her chin.

"Hm...no."

Mariella and Roldan both glanced over at the sound of a smack as Sarah slapped away the hand of a snickering Goblin King.

The next day, Sarah woke up bright and early all on her own. She was excited. Very excited. She had spent most of the previous evening packing with Mariella. Unlike with their trip north, this time they would be traveling by carriage; which meant this would be her very first Underground road trip. Squee!

She was not surprised to find Jareth gone by the time she'd woken. He was an early riser and often left her bed cold by the time the birds started to chirp. She didn't mind it today, however. There was just too much to do.

Mariella arrived shortly after she'd crawled out of bed, around 7 am, and was surprised to find Sarah still in her night clothes. Apparently, they had a schedule to keep to. Before Sarah could even say "good morning" she was being pushed off into the bathroom.

She showered quickly, and reentered her room with a towel wrapped tightly around her.

"I ordered a bit of breakfast while you were bathing," Mariella said, shuffling about between Sarah's dressers. Sarah peered over just as a waft of eggs and bacon filled her nose. "I also put together an outfit for you. It's on the bed."

Looking between her breakfast and her clothes, Sarah debated which was a more urgent matter. And then, as she pondered the -usually mouthwatering- idea of gobbling down hot, greasy bacon, she felt an odd churn in her gut. She grimaced, and turned away from that entire side of the room, then scowled and stepped towards her bed as a hand lifted to her stomach. Now that was odd. She actually felt kind of nauseous…

"Are you alright?" she heard Mariella ask, and peered over reflexively. Her hand constricted in place.

"Huh? Yeah. Just not much of an appetite this morning," she said, reassuringly, and turned to inspect her daily ensemble. Mariella stared at her, but let it go. She hadn't been one for breakfast at all these last couple weeks.

Sarah tilted her head as she held up the pair of pants Mariella had laid out for her. Now that was even more odd. She never chose pants for her in the first round.

"No dress today?" Sarah asked. They crossed gazes as Mariella shut the closet doors.

"No...to your relief, I'm sure," she said, playfully. "I thought since we're doing a bit of traveling, you would prefer something comfortable. Riding in a carriage for long periods of time can be...frankly, not much fun. And, in this instance, trousers would not be inappropriate attire." She stood with her back to her as she spoke and, only after turning around to step away from the armoire, did Sarah realize that she was also wearing pants.

She was donned in a short-sleeved, shiny, silk coat of a light blue hue, which had tails that fell to just an inch or so above the floor. Sarah had assumed it was a skirt, which made the reveal of her charcoal colored leggings and knee-high boots a genuine surprise. She'd never seen Marie in pants before -aside from workout gear anyway. The dark silhouette of her lower body emphasized her long, thin legs, and the abrupt cut of her coat made her pinched waist look even tinier. Damn. She'd make one hell of a model in the Aboveground.

"Sweet," Sarah said, and bundled up her materials before heading back into the bathroom.

Today her outfit was a pair of navy blue leggings with grey riding boots. There were an excessive number of hooks to be laced, which took her several minutes to weave on each boot. Her blouse was a pale silver with shimmery blue threads sewn within. It was well fitted, and turned into ruffles at the hips that hung loose down to about her mid thigh. The sleeves were cinched at the shoulders and hung in the same loose tatters. It was an odd sense of fashion, that was for sure, but still flattered her all the same. She exited the bathroom to find Mariella offering her a pair of silver wrist bands.

"Here, I think these will match nicely. I also found a lovely little hair piece, if you don't mind?"

Sarah, wanting to be the best queen she could possibly be, nodded and sat on the edge of the bed while Marie had her way with her hair.

"Do you think they're waiting on us?" Sarah asked. She could feel Marie's fingers coming through her hair, and a slight pinch from a pin that was pushed into place.

"Oh, probably. Though there's little to do about it now," Mariella replied. Sarah grinned. She never really acknowledged how considerate Jareth was when it came to working around her schedule. It always seemed, even when it was important, she was allowed to take her sweet ass time. Mariella pulled her hands away, which was a signal to Sarah that she was finished. She stood from the bed and walked away to look herself over in the vanity mirror. "Are you sure you're not hungry?"

Sarah paused and glanced back.

"Not really...I'll take an apple for the road though," she said -if only to appease Marie. She left the vanity and picked up a suitcase she'd had at the foot of the bed.

"Oh, did the goblins miss one? Shall I have them stow that for you?" Marie asked. Sarah shook her head.

"No. No, this is my carry-on. I figured it's probably going to get pretty boring after a couple of hours, so I packed some things to do on the ride," she explained.

"Right. Well, allow me to carry it for you then," Mariella said and, while she was indeed a servant, Sarah knew it was not a request. She handed over the suitcase without a fuss, and, after snagging an apple each, they were no sooner heading out the door.

Roldan stood at the base of the courtyard stairs as he read through a checklist, waving a finger here and there in wordless direction to goblins scurrying about. Jareth stood beside him, his arms crossed as he appreciated the view of his city.

"I still can't believe you let her con you like that," Roldan grumbled, peering up briefly every now and then to make sure everything was being loaded as it should be. Jareth, grinning with all the brightness of the sun, laughed softly to himself.

"It's rude to eavesdrop. Besides, what are you complaining for? It's good to get out of the castle every now and again."

Roldan paused and gave Jareth a sarcastic side-eye.

"...Said the hermit to the recluse."

Jareth started to laugh again, and then both were distracted by a very obnoxious bit of bounding down the stairs behind them. They turned around to be greeted by a wide and cheerful smile.

"Good morning!" Sarah said, hopping down to their level and effectively pushing them apart as she came to stand between the two. She had Mariella in tow, though her descent had been much more graceful. She moved to the side of Roldan, and bowed to Jareth.

"Good morning, Sire. Good morning, Master Roldan."

Jareth, forgetting the two of them existed at all, uncrossed his arms and smiled down at Sarah.

"I see you've made it. I was beginning to worry," he said, and placed a hand on his hip. Sarah raised a sassy brow and rolled her eyes away.

"I don't know how many times I've asked for an alarm clock. My poor punctuality is all on you," she said, dismissively, and turned to Roldan and Marie. "Is everything ready?"

Roldan shrugged and read through his ledger once more.

"So it would seem. As always, we wait only on you, Your Majesty," he said, with only slightly less sarcasm than she was used to.

"Best not waste any more time then. I'll go put this in your cabin," Mariella said, and scooted off to a carriage that stood in the front of a line of three. Sarah inspected them all quickly, and took particular notice of how plain they all were. That was...unexpected.

"What's up with this?" she asked, drawing her brow and turning back to Jareth. The sun was behind him, which illuminated the pale blond of his hair in a kind of halo around his face. She hadn't noticed it at first, and now felt a teeny, tiny hitch in her breath as she stared at him. He was looking away, allowing her to view him in profile, and she took that brief moment to regard the rest of his appearance.

Today, his hair was pulled back, hanging in a low ponytail that much of his hair fell loose from to frame his face. He wore a cream colored tunic, the sleeves of which were rolled up past the elbow and were cinched with little ties that had colored beads dangling at the end. Over this was a gold and bronze waistcoat boasting very intricate floral patterns in matching beadwork. His pants were brown with a black leather stripe running down each side, and he wore heavy riding boots -equal in fanciness to her own. They had lots of ties and buckles which were, presumably, all decorative. He wore his gold pendant prominently over his bare chest and, as he shifted his left hand on his hip, she noted he was still wearing his wedding band. Why she was always so keenly aware of this fact, she wasn't sure. He'd never taken it off after first putting it on, and she had a hard time figuring out why that meant so much to her.

She tore her eyes away from the glint on his hand and focused on what he was saying.

"This is our caravan," Jareth said, gesturing dramatically across the land as if she were dumb. Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. I meant, why does it look so run-down?" she asked. There were no fancy adornments here. No gilded trim or twisty metal flourish. There was also no military procession. No mounted steads with brightly colored banners waving in the breeze. No cheering crowd jittering on the sidelines...

"Run-down?"

"Yeah. The last two times I went out it was a damn fanfare. This is the first time you and I have traveled through the city together. I guess I just expected more excitement."

Her eyes continued to roam up and down the length of the courtyard. There were only a few goblins here. Seven, she counted. Most of whom had finished loading luggage and were now idling on their benches as they waited for them to board. Another odd detail Sarah picked up on, was that their carriages were not to be pulled by horses, but rather those strange wooly beasts she'd learned were called Banthas. Knowing Jareth to be the very proud King that he was, this did not seem right at all.

"Parades attract attention," Jareth said, and she turned her focus back to him (By now, Mariella had returned and was now chatting up Roldan). "Since you are recalling such details," he added. Sarah pursed her lips.

"And that's bad?" she asked. Jareth crossed his arms once more.

"No...I simply don't like it. There are occasions when I must endure being preened over by the public, but this is not one. I'd prefer we maintain discretion. Especially when we exit the city."

"So we're traveling incognito?" she asked, raising a brow. Jareth huffed.

"Exactly."

Well, that certainly explained the lack of horses. She was still curious about the guards though…

"Are we not being escorted by the Guard either?" she asked. Jareth peered down at her pretentiously.

"They are not needed," he said, matter-of-factly. "If you haven't noticed, I can take care of myself. You have nothing to fear, so long as you are with me."

He spoke plainly but Sarah couldn't help but project something ominous into that last sentence. Yes, so long as she was with him. Realizing she was indeed still wearing a figurative leash, she now wondered just how short he intended to keep it.

"Right…"

"Are you two ready yet?" Roldan asked, calling over to them. Sarah turned and looked at both him and Marie. "As much as I enjoy baking in the sun, I think I'd prefer getting a move on." He spoke at them scoldingly, as if she'd been wasting so much precious time asking stupid questions. Sarah glared a little.

"You might have better luck taking off that jacket, Roldan. Black on black doesn't pair well with eighty-five and sunny," she said, and turned her nose up at him. Honestly, it seemed like all the man owned was a variety of black jackets and vests. Combined with those gloves and the starched-white shirt he kept buttoned all the way to his throat, she was surprised he hadn't yet passed out.

"She does have a point," Jareth added, just to be an ass. Roldan scowled and looked away, dismissing them both as he took a step towards the carriages.

"At your leisure then," he said, and then offered a hand to Mariella. "May we?" She nodded and accepted the gesture, allowing him to escort her to what was, apparently, their carriage (second in line behind her and Jareth's). Sarah found that interesting. For some reason she thought they'd all be riding together.

"He seems grumpy," Sarah mumbled, absently. Jareth laced his arm with hers and pulled her forward.

"Naturally."

He opened the door to their carriage and ushered her in. She bent forward as she climbed inside and sat on what turned out to be a very plush bench. She glanced around as Jareth followed and sat across from her. It was a little strange. The inside definitely did not match the outside.

The seats were upholstered in crushed red velvet, and gold, glittery linen draped from the ceiling. The same fabric was used as curtains, and was tied back from the windows with red and gold silk rope. The wood construction on the inside was more familiar to her: varnished, carved, and neatly polished. There were shelves above her head with metal grating that housed her suitcase, along with several other parcels. There were even a couple throw pillows on either side of her. Sarah sat back and bounced a little on the squishy cushion.

Jareth, having just closed the door behind him, pounded a fist against the wall in a signal to proceed.

The carriage jerked forward and, without any ceremony at all, they were off.

"What's in that third carriage?" she asked.

"Supplies. Unless we come across an inn, we'll be camping out the first night."

"Oh." and her brow lifted in surprise. She hadn't realized they'd be camping. Well that sounded kind of fun. Now she was excited all over again. She scooted over towards a window and spied on the town. As desired, now that they were out of the Capital Square, none of the townsfolk paid any attention to them. "I still find it surprising that you don't want to draw attention. As flashy as you are."

Jareth cracked a smirk and leaned back, crossed his arms, and rested an ankle over his knee.

"My sense of flare is for the gratification of myself, not others," he said. Sarah nodded. "Though this also serves a practical purpose. We'll be crossing the Barrens. It can be dangerous out in the open like that. Best not come off as someone eager to be robbed."

Sarah tore her eyes away from the city street and looked at Jareth worriedly.

"What? You just said we were perfectly safe."

"We are," he confirmed, with a shrug. "That doesn't mean such things would not pose a nuisance. I'd rather not deal with it at all." His eyes roamed towards the window and hers lowered over him. He seemed casual enough...

"Hm…" she murmured, refusing to imagine the possibility of being attacked by brigands, and instead focused on the highlights of their journey ahead. "So, what's our itinerary then?"

There was a bump in the road, which caused Jareth to have to readjust his legs.

"It will be about a day and a half ride to Lord Eines estate," he started, and turned his gaze back to her after he was situated. "We'll travel the rest of today day and then camp at nightfall. We'll pick back up in the morning and, hopefully, get there just in time for supper."

"I see. Then what?"

"The next morning we will survey the town of Sulana. It is the largest in the district, as well as the one most heavily damaged." He uncrossed his arms and tucked a tendril of hair behind his ear, an action which had Sarah briefly wondering what he'd look like with an earring. Attractive. Definitely attractive. "I'm told renovations are nearly complete. So it's quite trivial, really. After that, there are some things I'll need to see to on my own. We'll stay another night with Eines; I'm sure he has a lovely reception planned for us with the neighboring landlords, and then we'll leave the following morning."

Sarcasm existed not only in his words, but on his face too as he imagined just what a lovely night it would be. Sarah frowned a little, still not understanding why he seemed to hate being around people so much.

"What do you need to do on your own?" she asked, deflecting.

"Sulana sits directly on the border between here and Erastor. There is a barrier separating the two. Every century or so, the barrier weakens and some terrible creature crosses over to wreak havoc on my people. I need to...recharge it, if you will," he explained. Sarah nodded.

"Interesting," she said, her voice trailing off contemplatively. "So...that would be magical transference, combined with physical spellcasting?"

Jareth's brow rose high up his face, and he smiled.

"Indeed," he said, a little surprised and admittedly pleased. This was a feeling reflected in Sarah, as she smiled smugly to herself. His grin curled on one side, and he leaned forward to place both feet on the floor. "I'm glad you've been paying attention."

"Yeah, well, you're a much more captivating professor than Roldan," she replied, with amusement. Seriously, even his tests were engaging... "Speaking of magic…" she carried on, lest she get distracted by such lewdness so early in the day, and sat up on her knees as she turned around and began reaching for her suitcase. She pulled it forward and unlatched it, fumbling through its contents for a folded piece of paper. She sat back down with it, and Jareth watched her curiously. She unfolded the parchment to reveal a map of the Goblin Kingdom. "Can you explain to me how you're figuring less than two days time for this journey?" she asked, inspecting the drawing with befuddlement. "According to this, Sulu is just about as far away from the Capital as Fyrn is. And you said it takes three months to get there."

Having failed to angle the map so Jareth could view it as well, he had to lean forward before responding.

"It's the lipsgates," he said, and reached over to press a finger to the paper. Suddenly, a series of dots began to light up the map like stars. "There are significantly fewer gates leading to the north, as you can see."

Sarah sat back and stared at the paper. There were dozens of dots. Maybe even more. Tiny, glowing, pin-pricks that stippled the paper to the point of rendering it unreadable. Except for the north anyway. No, there were only a few in a staggered line leading straight to Fyrn.

"Why?" she asked. Jareth shrugged.

"No one wants to go there," he said, plainly. "The majority of gates were constructed during the time of Orpus. Back then, people were more actively afraid of the creatures that lurk beyond those mountains. Over the years, more gates have been added to routes that support a higher level of commerce," he explained. As Sarah's eyes traveled along the dots on the map, she realized the constellations they painted followed the main roads connecting to the other six kingdoms.

"But...doesn't all of our timber and mineral exports come from Fyrn?" she asked, and he remarked on the way she'd said our. He leaned back in his seat and wove a hand through the air.

"Yes...but that implies we rely on export revenue. Sadly, we do not."

"Hm...which is why you're building the canal," she added. Her eyes still scanned the paper viciously. So darn passionate. It made him smile, and brought warmth to his chest just watching her. One day, she would know the kingdom better than he did. He could not wait for the progress they would make together. "Can you show me where that is?" she asked, distracting him. He leaned forward again and touched the paper. The little dots faded, and in their place a light blue line lit from the Athom Sea, which crossed over into Yore, and followed the rivers all the way to the Omni Gulf. Having no real idea of the scope of the project until just now, she actually sat back a little in awe. It really did split the continent in two. "When is the opening again?"

"In a few weeks," Jareth said, and inhaled deeply. "You'll have to ask Roldan for the exact date."

Sarah stared back down at the paper, only now her hands gripped it a little tighter.

"Are we...are we going to that too?" she asked. She sounded tentative but it was too subtle for Jareth to pick up on. He'd gone back to staring out the window again.

"It is expected of us, so yes," he said, and then tilted his head a little. "Although...we'll actually be crossing it in a couple of hours. Suppose we'll have a sneak peak of it." He was right. According to this map, the canal connected with the base of the Rhil river in the north, which was actually very close to the Capital.

"Have you thought about expanding it to connect with the Garrymon river in Erastor? Or even Oaken'tah in Jeju…" she mused, biting her lip as she stared at the map. This was, however, a map only of the Goblin Kingdom, which meant her question was based on actual knowledge she'd retained from her lessons. Wow. Jareth's smile just kept getting bigger.

"Not yet," he said, with restraint. Sarah, however, did not pick up on the throbbing of his ego at all and glanced up to him with a dead stare.

"I still can't quite believe how nonchalant you are about this," she said. He bit his tongue.

"Why?"

"It just...seems like one of those things that define a monarch's reign. What you're doing is going to be monumental to the economy," she said. Jareth's heart nearly burst with pride. "So where is the opening going to be held? I assume there will be a ribbon cutting?"

"There will be local celebrations held at every lock," he said, raking his eyes over what little he could see of her face as she held the map up in front of her. "However, we, along with Bryce and his family, will hold a formal opening here, in Erykberg," he added, and pointed at a spot on the back of the map. It lit for her on the other side. It was a point at the northern border of the Athom Sea, between the two kingdoms. That made sense.

"Oh...right," she mumbled, distractedly. Mention of Bryce brought back something she'd been secretly fretting about over the last few days. Fortunately, or perhaps not, this seemed like as good a time as any to get it out of the way. "Say, um...I haven't bothered bringing it up but...am I still going to tea with Delphine?" she asked, completely changing topic. She lowered the map and looked Jareth in the eye. "I'm supposed to meet with her next week. Should be the day after we get back from this trip. I know you said I'm still on lockdown so...I was wondering if I should write to her and postpone," she said, trying to sound as impartial as possible while, in reality, she was already feeling disappointed.

Jareth regarded the look on her face, and took a moment to ponder. She looked a little nervous, though not as nervous as she'd been in making her requests the previous day. That was progress he supposed, or maybe she was just worried about pressing her luck. Regardless, it was something he was now responsible for. Honestly, he'd completely forgotten about that playdate. He'd been so thoroughly preoccupied with Liana and thoughts of apocalypse, that it seemed Roldan was right -it was a wonder anything was getting done. And then he thought of something else Roldan had said, about the impression he would make with her if he rescinded her punishment so prematurely. He wanted her to take her own safety seriously, and he wanted her to respect his authority over the matter. She'd been...extremely well-behaved this week and, he was not neanderthal enough to completely overlook it as a potential manipulation. Still, even if it was strictly for his benefit, it was still for his benefit. She was trying to please him, which was more than he ever really expected. It made him want to coddle her. It made him want to give her the world on a silver platter. Damn. Roldan was right. Maybe he was becoming all bark.

He sighed through his nose and angled his head down at her.

"Let's try to get through this next adventure without catastrophe first, and we'll see." If she knew how easy she was to toy with, she would have called him on his bluff. However, as she was, at heart, still a petulant little thing, she only locked her jaw and glared away with well-combated defiance.

"Fine," she said, curtly, barely caring to hide her annoyance over the parental tone he'd just taken with her. Maybe he'd spank her if she threw a fit. Maybe it'd be worth it. Oh geez. What the hell kind of thought was that? Between 'Professor' and 'Daddy', Sarah realized she was approaching a very dangerous pitfall of fetishistic oblivion that she, not he, would be inevitably casting herself into. Best keep these musings to herself, she thought. Best Jareth not find out at all. He would have a fucking field day.

Needing to distract herself, once again, from her own twisted perversions, her eyes flickered down to the sharp light that glinted off of Jareth's pendant.

"Is that necklace important to you?" she asked. Jareth, having wandered off in thought during the break in conversation, glanced down to his chest reflexively.

"Not particularly. Why?" he responded. Sarah shrugged.

"I didn't know if it was a family heirloom, or something."

"I have a few versions of this. It's simply the sigil of the Goblin Throne. I have little use for heirlooms," he said, though such plainly spoken words were betrayed by her knowledge of his inner angst. Right. As if Jareth would ever tote around something that had once belonged to his father.

"I see...can I have one too?"

Jareth looked up and eyed her curiously.

"You want one?" he asked, as if that were surprising. Sarah pursed her lips.

"Why not? I am Queen, right? Although….it might be weird wearing two necklaces…" she mumbled, her voice fading as she looked downward and fiddled the pendant of her necklace.

"About that-" Jareth said. She peered up. "You don't have to worry about such things anymore."

"What do you mean?" He was staring at her more intently, like he was holding something back on the tip of his tongue. Sarah drew her brow on him a little as he shifted in his spot.

"The...enchantments I put in your ring are profound," he started, then pointed at her necklace. "It's rendered the one in your necklace redundant, if not obsolete. You need not wear it so religiously anymore," he explained. Sarah blinked.

"Oh. Okay. Well, isn't it good to have a back-up? What if-"

"I also enchanted the ring to be locked on your person," he interrupted. Sarah, instinctively alarmed, found her left hand recoiling towards her chest.

"What?"

"It will not come off. Have you not yet noticed?"

Eyes flickering down, Sarah immediately tried to pull the ring off of her finger. No, she hadn't tried taking it off since he'd given it back to her. Wedding bands were meant to be worn at all times after all. But that-

For some reason, she was surprised when the ring wouldn't budge. Feeling suddenly offended, she glared up at him.

"Why would you-"

"I did not want to risk it slipping off your finger and getting lost, more so you suffering some pointless tragedy because of it," he cut her off again. Sarah, wanting to argue that her civil rights had somehow been violated, shut her open mouth. Pointless was the key word there. She wasn't planning on taking the ring off, and certainly wasn't planning on leaving herself exposed to another situation like the Herdsman. So, the thing that would be pointless was the argument she wanted to start. Still. He could have mentioned it would become a permanent part of her body before she slipped it back on her finger. The thing was heavy and kind of sharp. -And on this point she did reproach him.

"You could have given me a heads up. Do you know how annoying it is to try and put on a pair of gloves?" she asked, with irritation, and fingered the central diamond as her hands lowered back to her lap. Jareth, not playing into her rhetorical display, only stared at her sternly.

"No. And neither did I think it mattered."

"Of course not," she snapped back. Her arms crossed, and she turned her head sharply to glare out the window. Her heavily weighted ring finger tapped restlessly against her bicep and she acknowledged, albeit begrudgingly, that her anger with him was completely hollow. Damn hormones. She'd probably start bleeding any day now. "How long until we stop for lunch?" she asked, changing the subject. Jareth leaned forward towards the window to stare at the sun, and Sarah wondered if it would have just been easier to carry a watch.

"A few hours. You may want to settle in," he said, carefully teasing. He watched as she turned around and started rummaging through her bag again. She had to kneel on the edge of her bench to do so, which allowed him to appreciate, in well-mannered silence of course, her round little ass as it was squeezed so tightly into her leggings. He almost reached out and pinched her just to see her glare back at him, but wisely refrained. She stowed away the map, and came back down with the book he'd given her the previous day and...an apple?

She flipped through the first few pages and slouched back in her seat.

"To chapter ten, right?" she asked. Jareth subdued the twitch of a grin. Such an eager pupil.

"Yes."

"Great. Let me know when it's time for lunch," she said, dismissing his presence entirely as she took an obnoxious bite from her apple.

As promised, several hours passed before their first pit-stop. They'd crossed the canal. Which was, literally, just a bridge over a river and was not at all as impressive as she'd imagined it would be. But now they were, according to Sarah's calculations, somewhere within the Sien district well within the Barrens and approximately a quarter way through their journey. Progress was to be determined by lipsgates, she was told, not actual mileage. Otherwise, she'd have said they were still fairly close to the Capital.

The Barrens was, as described, a vast, flat sea of tall grass. Sea was a very apt analogy, as the highlight from the sun moved rhythmically as the wind undulated the grass in quiet, boundless waves. It was actually extremely beautiful and peaceful to watch. There wasn't a single sound. Not of birds, or insects, or people. Just the scenery. Limitless and idle.

A goblin had opened the door for them and Sarah stepped down first. To her surprise, Mariella was already skipping towards her with a mystery basket in tow.

"Who's ready for our picnic?!"

Because the entire trip was contrived, it only made sense that every scenario that composed it would also be. This helped Sarah feel not so guilty over the stupid level of weirdness that was the four of them sitting in a field, on a blanket, with an actual-to-God wicker basket, snacking on toothpick sandwiches and fruit salad.

Mariella had prepared this herself, she'd said. Very early that morning before even the kitchen staff had awoken.

"So...who is Lord Eines again?" Sarah asked, while sucking watermelon juice from her thumb. "I met him at the engagement party, right?"

"Yes," Jareh replied, fingering through the platter of fruit for a grape that was fit to his standards. "He was, as you said, the young one with the weird smile."

"Oh. Right," she said, and ate another piece. "He seemed nice. I think that's why I thought it was so weird. He seemed really happy to meet me."

"I imagine he was."

"Who wouldn't be happy to meet you, Sarah. Honestly," Mariella said, with total sincerity. Both Sarah and Roldan laughed -though for different reasons.

"Anything I should know about him before we get there?" she asked, eyeing Roldan as she, so magnanimously, let the insult go. She instead turned back to Jareth. "You have too many lords to keep track of."

"I agree," Jareth said, and stared down into his wine flute as he swirled it around. "Hence why I keep Roldan so close at parties."

"Eines is the landlord over the Sulu, Vanti, and Gead districts," Roldan said, staring at Jareth with irritation as Sarah turned her attention back to him. "-though you may hear them referred to as burroughs. They are all very small farming communities, which is why they've been grouped together under his protection. There are only a handful of towns scattered between the three. Some little more than a fork in the mud," he continued. Sarah plopped one piece of watermelon into her mouth after another. "I think you'll be surprised when we get there. Sulana is a very different place from the Goblin City, and it's the most urban of them all."

"That sounds nice, actually. Spending a few days out in the country-"

"Hmph-"

Sarah turned back to Jareth, whose huff of laughter was less than nonchalant.

"What?" she asked. Jareth grinned and tipped his glass at Roldan.

"A nice country holiday. Does such a thing exist, Roldan?" he asked, tongue-in-cheek. Sarah looked back at Roldan just as he scowled and rolled his eyes.

"In the minds of some, I suppose."

"Master Roldan, do you not like the countryside?" Marie asked.

"Dislike is an understatement. He hates the country," Jareth answered, finishing his glass and then combing a hand through his bangs.

"Oh no. Whyever so?"

Roldan closed his eyes and shuddered a little.

"Because it's filthy. Nothing but mud, and shit, and poorly carved meat, and people who can barely lace their own boots let alone form a provoking thought."

Sarah frowned, a look that Jareth caught out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't listen to him, he's just projecting more of his own self-loathing. For were you not one such bumpkin, once upon a time?" he asked, maintaining a challenging gaze as he held out his glass -which Roldan wordlessly refilled.

"What?" Sarah asked. Roldan, grumbling as he'd never grumbled before, bit on his pride as he debated whether or not to play Jareth's game.

Opting for the path of less strife, he turned to Sarah and tore off the band-aid.

"As Jareth implies, my parents were from a village similar to Sulana, yes. My mother was a maid and my father was a baker. I was born after they'd pledged themselves to Jareth's parents, which meant I was born into servitude. Being selected as Jareth's attendant as a child, I was privy to both walks of life. And thus, I assure you, my prejudice is well justified."

There was a quickness, and a sharpness, to his words that implied he wished the topic resolved as soon as possible. Of course, this only made Sarah more interested. What had he experienced that made him so jaded against his upbringing? Surely a peasant's life wasn't that bad?

"Oh. Well, I can't comment on the class system in this world, but I was a peasant in the Aboveground. And I'm perfectly capable of tying my own boots."

Roldan stared at her for a moment, and then cracked a grin as he huffed. He glanced away and took a sip of his drink.

"You certainly know how to carry a provoking thought as well," he mumbled. Sarah, pursing her lips to stifle a grin, turned to look at Jareth as he nudged her with his elbow.

"You are filthy though."

Sarah laughed and shoved him back.

Lunch progressed to a pleasant end and soon they were back on the road. Sarah had asked to change their seating arrangements. She wanted to chat with Marie for a bit. This was a request Jareth had outright ignored.

They talked idly in a way that had become too natural too quickly, poking fun and trading tiny details about one another that was a sign of an otherwise normal relationship. She didn't think about it. Just enjoyed it. Even when they came close to bickering, which was often, being trapped together in that tiny box, she did not want it to end.

The remainder of the day passed quickly and, all of the sudden, it was pitch black outside their window. Jareth had informed they were nowhere near a town, so they would be stopping shortly to make camp for the night. There was a strange luminescence in their cabin, something magical that had no source, and their drivers were now guided by floating torches. Looking out the window became eerie. It was like looking at a painted wall. She'd never seen a blackness so heavy. It actually made her want to close the curtains.

"So, is Roldan just ashamed of his heritage? Or did something happen to make him so prissy?"

Jareth chuckled and rested an arm along the open window.

"A heavy mixture of both, I presume," he said, with amusement. "Though I will admit, he was bullied quite a bit growing up. He was kept close to Davion and I's sides while never allowed to actually engage in what we were doing. Always reminded of his place. I imagine that's caused him to have a bit of genuine resentment."

"Towards his people? Wouldn't it make more sense to resent you?" she asked. Jareth shrugged.

"But we had culture," he said, flatly. "We had books, art, and music. Things he could still learn and sneak away with. What did his family have to offer? Stale bread and a limited vocabulary."

"Hm…" She hummed, contemplatively, and glanced to the side.

"Although, I do consider myself a progressive leader. The state of the lower classes is, objectively, much better than it was in Roldan's day." He sounded very pleased with himself, which had Sarah biting on a smile as she spied him from her peripheral. He caught the look and locked onto it. "Though such things were not achieved without a very ornery bug in my ear. Don't ever tell him I said this, but Roldan holds more sway than he thinks."

"I guess he has done well for himself then. I kind of wish he'd enjoy it more."

"Oh, he does."

There was something of mischief in his voice that begged her attention.

"Yeah? When?" she asked, challengingly. Jareth arched a brow and his eyes narrowed.

"When you're not around."

She held his gaze and narrowed her own eyes, but he won in the end. She ended up turning away sharply to conceal her spiteful smile.

"Whatever…" she mumbled, the corners of her mouth curling as she shook her head. She was staring out the window now, and her expression twitched when something now flickered into view. She moved closer towards the window and focused her eyes on it. "Hey...what is that?" she asked. Jareth, equally curious, moved to join her.

It was a light. A faint orange glow. It looked far off, but the curved road they traveled seemed to be leading them directly to it. It came into view quickly and took the form of a raging fire. "Is...someone having a bonfire?"

She turned to look at Jareth, who was also staring out the window intently. They were both leaning in together, which brought their faces closer than they'd been all day. He was holding back a curtain with a finger, and turned to look at her before answering her question.

"Indeed."

Sarah gripped the frame of the window and leaned forward a little more. The glow from the flames brightened the solid night well enough to reveal a stack of smoke that rose into the sky. As they traveled around it, closer to it, she could see shapes and shadows passing in front of it. They looked like buildings. But...wait...no.

"Wow, look at all those carriages and tents," she said, her eyes finally piecing together the negative spaces between wheel spokes and tension cables. Yes. Those were definitely tents. And a lot of them from the look of it. The fire rose twice as high and filled some of the tents closest to it with a warm pulsing hue. Sarah's eyes widened with intrigue. "Looks like Burning Man," she mumbled. Jareth glanced at her confusedly. "It's a festival in the Aboveground," she clarified. This didn't seem to help him any.

"They make merry by burning men in your world?" he asked, sounding both dubious and excited. "And you say this realm is absurd."

"What? No. No, it's a sculpture," she said, pulling away from the window just a bit so her arms could aid in her narrative. She lifted them up and held them wide. "Like, a really big sculpture of a man that they light on fire. I think it's meant to celebrate the solstice, or something."

Jareth stared at her skeptically, as if he couldn't believe their two worlds might actually share a custom. After a moment he glanced away again, still very much interested in whatever it was they were approaching.

"Hm...well, you're not far off," he said, and then leaned away from the window entirely. He sat up straight and faced her. "Though the solstice was some weeks ago. I believe what they're celebrating now is Lughnasa."

"Lug-nas-what?" Sarah asked. Jareth cocked a one-sided grin. They could hear voices growing in the background now, indistinct, and not as far off as she'd thought.

"Come now, I'm really starting to suspect whatever it was you and Roldan were actually doing all those hours on all those days," he said, and she glared in offense. "It is a holiday marking the start of the harvest," he continued, and then casually pointed at the tiny, dancing fae silhouettes that were just now coming into view. "And that is a troupe of Alvari."

"Alvari?" Sarah repeated, staring at him in bewilderment as he leaned back and then pounded on the carriage wall. The carriage came to an abrupt halt, which nearly sent her falling to her knees. Jareth, now crouching forward as he reached for the cabin door, gave her a very excited kind of smile.

"Shall we investigate?" he asked, and hopped out into the night.

"Wait- what?" Sarah called after him, lurching and then hesitating and then stumbling her way out of the carriage and into the darkness behind him. Thankfully, the roaring fire up ahead was enough to grant her bearings. She scurried after him, and jerked on his sleeve until he turned back. "Jareth?! What are you doing? Where the hell are you going?!" she whisper-yelled, keeping her shoulders hunched as if they might be caught. They had to be well within fifty yards of the camp. Seriously, he was just going to casually stroll through? What the heck?

Before Jareth could respond, or Sarah berate him further, she was distracted by the sound of the second carriage door opening. Mariella stepped down first, and Roldan followed.

Marie looked confused. Roldan took a few steps, looked ahead at the gathering, and then sighed.

"Ah. I should have known," he said, placing a casual hand on his hip. Sarah's eyes widened a little.

"Should have known what?" she asked. Mariella, who had presumably been sleeping, rubbed at her eyes as she blinked at their surroundings. She wandered off a little into the void, but they were all still standing within close distance of one another.

"Goodness, are these Alvari?" Mariella asked. Again Sarah worried over that word. "I've only ever read about them. Lord Davion says they are simply riveting. Are we really joining? Oh, how fun!" Her spirits perked up quickly and it seemed Sarah was the only one considering proceeding with a modicum of caution.

"What the hell is an Alvari?" she asked, and then clawed a hand around Jareth's forearm, urging his attention. He was just staring out at the fire. "Jareth!"

"Oh shush, don't be so skittish," he chided, turning back to her with that same excited smile. That look always unnerved her, for it was usually more dastardly than it seemed. Sarah scowled but he ignored it. "I told you, you're perfectly safe with me."

"Okay, but who are these people and why are we about to whimsically swoop in and crash their party?" she asked, beside herself. Jareth chuckled but didn't answer. Instead he took hold of her hand, and jerked her behind him, as he resumed his pursuit. Roldan and Marie immediately followed, the latter fae now quietly giggling with glee.

"The Alvari are a nomadic tribe," Roldan said, coming to walk in stride with Sarah. "They travel the whole of Orpia spreading the old religion," he continued, to Sarah's appreciation. She glanced over at him as Jareth slowed his pace to walk in line with her as well. Mariella skipped ahead to lace her arm with Roldan's.

"Oh?" Sarah asked, confusedly. She'd never once heard of this.

"Yes. They are also fond of a good party," Mariella added.

"Indeed," Jareth concurred. Sensing something potentially leading in his response, Sarah looked up at him to find he was smiling down at her wickedly. She blanched. "You may find them a bit crude but I assure you, they're harmless," he carried on, urging her ever-forward in teeny, tiny steps. The voices were louder now, separated as laughter, and singing, and maybe even a couple moans. She could see a few bodies throwing themselves widely in proximity to the fire and they...did not look to be clothed. Oh. So maybe this was like Burning Man. Sarah found herself now drawing to a halt. Jareth paused and threw her a wink. "And the best part? They never refuse a guest."

If that was supposed to sell her on the impulse, he did a terrible fucking job. Sarah jerked her hand out of his and planted a foot firmly on the ground. Her three fae companions, totally ignorant of her quaint human plight, turned to face her expectantly.

"Whoa. Just hold on there a minute bucko," she said, holding up a hand to Jareth and taking a deep breath through her nose. "Does anyone want to tell me a little bit more about what's happening? Or maybe even just ask my consent first?"

Mariella, feeling oh-so-inconsiderate, stepped forward with a hand placed to her mouth.

"Oh how foolish. Are you still feeling ill? It is getting late. Perhaps you'd rather rest?" she asked. Both Jareth and Roldan stared at Mariella perplexedly, and Sarah shook her head.

"What? No, I am not ill. Would you get off that? I'd just like to know what it is we're about to barrel ourselves into," she said, and gestured at the fire beyond them. "How do you know they won't mind us just casually barging in?"

The three fae exchanged brief glances and then looked back at Sarah. Marie's hand had lowered from her mouth but was now held close to her chest tentatively.

"Well...because they're Alvari," she said, as if having no other way to explain. Sarah shook her head in exasperation.

"Sarah," Jareth said, calling her attention. She successfully suppressed her long desired huff, and looked up at him. "The Alvari are a group of fae who follow the old ways. Their mission is to enlighten the minds of modern society back into the arms of Nature. They are naturally pacifists, and believe in pleasure and the expression of love above all else. They will welcome us with open arms. It is their way."

So they were hippies? Great. And on a separate note, did not all fae worship Nature? Hm.

"And you're so eager to join them that you practically skipped your way out of the carriage without me because?" she asked, alluding that her offense stemmed not from the event itself, but from his inconsiderate decision making. She placed her hands on her hips and awaited an answer expectantly.

"Because it will be fun," he said, lightheartedly, and pulled free one of her angry little hands and raised it to his mouth. He stared down at her with a glimmer in his eye, or she imagined one anyway. It was damn near impossible to see any of them in this blackness. She could, however, feel the heat of his breath against her knuckles perfectly as he said, "I promise."

Her fingers curled around his, betraying her on a biological level, as that phrase sent all kinds of excited shivers running down her spine. She peered over at Roldan and Mariella, who were watching her with boredom and worry accordingly, then back at Jareth as she exhaled through her nose. They were all still standing in the middle of the field, and she knew this was as close as he would get to asking her permission. She narrowed her eyes in the dark, and then gripped his hand as she roughly jerked him forward.

"Fine. But this better not be another orgy," she grumbled, and stomped away.

By the time they crossed the perimeter of the furthermost tents, Sarah was no longer at the front of the pack, but had fallen to cling, rather sheepishly, slightly behind Jareth. Mariella was beside her, Roldan behind Mariella -as was custom- and together the four of them strolled quietly through the barracks.

This felt wrong. Like they were sneaking. But no, she was the only one with her head lowered. Everyone else looked right at home. She could finally see again. There were torches staked in the ground, and oil lamps illuminating the inside of the tents. As they passed, she spied on the blurred shadows of furniture and people. She was feeling nervous. She was the only one who had no idea how to act. Above their heads, many of the tents and caravans were connected by strings of lights. They must have been fueled by magic, as there was no electricity in the Underground, but the familiarity it brought her was uncanny all the same.

The grass covering the field was tall and had been leveled, not cut, in what she assumed was a perfect circle on which the camp stood. It made the ground soft and cushioned beneath her feet. An odd sensation, as her boots sunk unevenly into the heavily layered grass with every step.

There were a lot of moths fluttering about. Large, terrifying looking things that were also incredibly beautiful. They were white and furry, with fanned feelers and pitch black eyes painted on their wings. They danced between the strings above their heads. As Sarah's eyes inspected them closer, it seemed as if their markings changed expressions with every new angle. Sad. Happy. Afraid. That was...strange.

After a couple of minutes, they came to the center of the camp. This area was clear of tents, allowing a radius of maybe thirty feet of open space between them and the bonfire. The grass here was doused with sand, which became denser as it marked the fire at the epicenter. Rimming the inner perimeter were maypoles, at least twelve feet tall, colorfully painted, and supported ropes of flowers and ribbon that partially enclosed the space overhead. There were a lot of people congregated here, way more than she'd anticipated. A few of them were dancing in a circle around the fire, but most were reposed on the ground or on cushions, just drinking and talking. To her immediate relief, she saw they were all clothed -albiet scantilly. Their clothing was a mixture of draping tunics and cord-bound bikinis (these options were not restricted by gender). She gripped Jareth's hand harder as they continued approaching them, wondering if he planned to just plop beside the fire and leave them none the wiser.

And then eyes started roaming their way. It began with those they passed on the ground. Sarah tried to ignore it, but the way they smiled up at them and began mumbling the word "guests?" with excited inflection, among themselves, was very unnerving. There was a small cluster of people standing between them and the fire, their figures turned near-black from such a strong backlight. One of them turned and looked Jareth straight in the eye. They were now close enough to speak with, and so Jareth brought them to a halt. The fae - a very tall, lanky, dark-skinned, gorgeous man- smiled at the four of them widely.

"Are those guests I see?" he asked, then turned to his companions and muttered something in another language. They nodded and left, eyeing Sarah and the gang with creeping grins as they did so. The man, boasting a long muscled neck and high, chiseled cheekbones, took a step towards them and glanced around the crowd. He wore a brightly colored, exotically patterned tunic that fell to only his knee, and swayed about him gracefully. It became sheer with the light of the fire behind him, which, combined with the way he pressed the tips of his fingers gently to his neck, the heavy kohl that melted around his eyes, and an intricately woven headwrap, made him a perfect muse of androgyny. He held a glass in his hand, and raised it as he clinked it twice with a bulbous silver and ruby ring which he wore on his middle finger. "Look here, everyone!" he called out, to his flock rather than to them. "We have been gifted wanderers. Let us greet them warmly!"

His accent was slightly different from the other fae she knew. It was hard to describe. The fae around them all stood and clapped. He smiled at them again, holding his hands outspread in an airy manner, and bowed very low before them. All of the strangers in the immediate vicinity did the same.

"Good evening, travelers. Welcome. Are you weary? May we tend you this night?"

Sarah looked up at Jareth, curious of his response, and prayed this was not a situation she was meant to take the lead in. She wasn't sure these fae were members of Court, and all her etiquette was geared towards that particular ring of circus. She caught him smiling, a strange, wayward sort of look. Like he was caught in a memory. She began to feel a little confused, and then he spoke.

"You may. We are tired, and bored, and in need of fine company," he said and, shockingly, placed a hand over his heart as he bowed before the man, just as low. Sarah's jaw clenched anxiously. Did...was she supposed to bow too?

The man stood, looking so genuinely happy to see them, as his smile stretched from ear to ear. He had large teeth. Beautifully sculpted. Wow.

"By Alvra, we are blessed," he said, and placed a long-fingered hand over his heart. "I am Kodrun, the Favraier of this clan. Welcome to our hearth."

Jareth lowered his head and, in doing so, spoke to Sarah with the sheer intensity of his gaze. She flinched and bowed her head as well.

"Thank you for the hospitality," she said, hoping that was acceptable. Roldan and Mariella bowed their heads as well. When they all straightened, she saw Kodrun's attention was now cast to the left. His smile twitched anew at whatever he saw.

"Ah. And now I believe Mavra herself will greet you," he said, bowing now to this mystery person whom they all turned to face.

The two women who had been speaking with Kodrun had, apparently, left to fetch whomever this Mavra person was. She saw them standing at the mouth of a tent, which was a bit more decorated than the rest (messily painted with strange runes and pictures), and were holding back the curtains as an elderly woman now emerged.

Sarah used the term elderly loosely, as the woman looked to be about sixty. But, as far as fae standards went, that was rather odd in and of itself. She was short. Had black, wiry hair done up in a strange nest of braids, and wore a loose gown in a similar style to Kodrun's. Her skin was of a darker complexion as well. Darker than Marie, but not as dark as Kodrun, and she had a slight gimp to her walk. Sarah felt Jareth's hand move to her elbow, and she knew immediately she was about to be puppeted. Oh. This woman must be important.

They did not move, but waited for the woman to hobble over until they all stood within arm's reach. She was silent at first, getting a good look at them as her eyes spanned from Marie, to Roldan, to Sarah, and finally Jareth. Sarah caught the ghost of a smile on the old woman's lips at that very moment, just as she'd regarded Jareth. Sarah peered up discreetly, slow to be consumed by curiosity at the way her mercurial husband was still smiling so gaily.

"Mavra," Jareth said and, pinching Sarah's elbow between his thumb and index finger, jerked her down with him as he dropped to one knee. She almost yelped. Damn. If there was going to be some sort of ceremony, he should have briefed her back in the field! Roldan and Mariella also kneeled, and things seemed suddenly very serious. "It has been too long since last I sat at your table."

So...Jareth knew her? Is that why she gave him that strange look? But something felt off. She was missing something, and a whole lot of it.

"Indeed it has, child," Mavra said, and then stepped forward to place the tips of her fingers under both her and Jareth's chins, lifting them up. Her expression on the both of them was full of love. "But we will always welcome our children home." She tilted her head and smiled. Sarah wasn't sure what to do, so she did nothing. As the old woman continued to regard them, Sarah felt her fingers twitch beneath her chin. Mavra's head tilted subtly, and her smile curled. "Alvra favoures you," she said, confusing Sarah all the more. "The both of you. We are blessed by your company." She withdrew her hands and gestured for the four of them to stand. "Come. Rest now. Enjoy our fire. You have found light in the darkness. It is Alvra's gift to you."

Sarah was surprised and actually greatly affected by the fact that the woman's tenderness was not restricted to Jareth, but flowed evenly between them all. Her touch on her chin had felt warm. It felt comforting. Like a mother's touch. She felt her heart fluttering in response to it in a way that made no sense at all. Huh? Who exactly was this person?

And then, just like that, the old woman bowed her head, turned away, and went back to the seclusion of her tent. Jareth released Sarah's arm, and she used that brief moment to glance back. Mariella was looking all around wildly, and Roldan...well, he looked like Roldan.

"I shall fetch you drinks!" Kodrun exclaimed, reminding Sarah that he was still there. She turned around and looked at him doe-eyed. This was already overwhelming her. He clapped and breezed past them, his thin linen tunic fluttering airily in his wake. "Please, sit anywhere. Enjoy everything. The world is yours!" And then, with a very feminine grace, the seven-foot-tall man glided away with his hands held up as if birds might then land on the tips of his fingers. Oh. Well alright then.

Before she had the chance to decide on any actual reaction, she felt Jareth's hand on her elbow again, pulling her forward.

"Come," he said, and smiled down at her. "Let's sit by the fire."

There was a ring of logs being used as benches circling the fire pit, and Jareth guided her towards the one closest to them. He sat on the end, Sarah beside him. Then followed Roldan at her left, and, having lagged behind from being so thoroughly fascinated, was Marie who was thus forced to sit next to Roldan at the far end.

"Oh, this is so exciting. How lucky are we?" she heard Mariella whisper to Roldan. Sarah peered around to try and be part of the conversation.

"Lucky, sure," Roldan replied, staring blankly into the fire and looking a little tense. Sarah looked down at the sand at her feet. Did they put this here?

There was a loud pop from the fire which sent a burst of sparks into the line of dancers. A few of them yipped and jumped back, but recovered with wide smiles and laughter. They held each other steady as they all found their footing and quickly resumed the dance again. It made Sarah smile. These people seemed friendly. Genuinely.

She looked over to Jareth, realizing he'd been suspiciously quiet.

"So...do you know that person or…?" she asked, tilting her head as she stared up at him. He too had become dazed on the fire, though he was quick to blink out of it.

"Hm? Who?" he asked. Sarah blinked.

"That Mavra lady. Who else?"

"The," he corrected. Sarah shook her head.

"What?"

"The Mavra. That is her title."

Sarah's scowl didn't lessen any.

"Okay...that doesn't really answer my question though."

Jareth inhaled and slouched forward.

"No, I don't know her. Not personally, anyway," he said. Sarah arched a brow.

"What does that mean? And why did we bow like that? I thought Kings only bowed to Queens?" she asked. Jareth cracked a smirk and then leaned around her.

"So many good questions. And you said teaching her our religions would be a waste of time," he said, calling out to Roldan. Roldan shot him an eye, but only shrugged in apathy.

"I did. Her knowing of your strange affinity for these people had nothing to do with making sure she could successfully walk down the aisle." He spoke flippantly, which only had Sarah scowling. She frowned at him disapprovingly.

"The actual marriage was a religious ceremony wasn't it?" she asked. This time, Roldan went so far as to look down his nose at her before responding.

"Yes. But not of this religion. And besides, I taught you only what you needed to know."

Realizing he'd become a rather mysterious brick wall on the subject, Sarah groaned and turned around to Jareth.

"So? There are multiple fae religions?"

Jareth, now leaning towards her with his fingers laced over a knee, gave her a jaunty smile.

"Why wouldn't there be? Are there not many religions in your world?"

"Yeah but…" and then her words failed. She wasn't quite sure how to phrase this. "The people in my world haven't unraveled the secrets of the universe like you have here. They pretty much just go with what feels right."

Jareth cocked a brow at her with interest.

"And you think my people have and thus act any differently?" he asked, rhetorically she assumed.

"You have magic. You understand the way it works with your bodies and with the physical and metaphysical world. You know what happens when you die, which is really the crux of it all. So, yeah, I'd say you have a far more rounded understanding of your universe than I do mine."

It was a question regularly pondered by the wandering and often unstimulated mind of Sarah the Goblin Queen. There were different worlds, dimensions, with different rules and different physics. But what did that mean? Were there only the two? Or many more? How many? What about God? She'd been raised a casual Christian and deep down she still believed, but her current reality was a bit of page-stopper. Could God be real in her world and not in this one? Was her idea of God and their idea of Nature one in the same? Or were they all wrong? Why did Roldan think this was unimportant?

"Fair enough," Jareth said, with a shrug. "I suppose then, what we have are sects, rather than individual houses of thought," he explained. Sarah listened eagerly. "All religions in this world center around the worship of Nature as the forebringer of life and magic. It is where we are born and where we die. However, the details and the physical practices of how we honor such vary widely between churches."

"Oh," she said, and turned sharply when Mariella suddenly piped in.

"Indeed. For instance, The House of Aldrun is the civil school in my home nation of Masoch. We are descended from nymphs, so our worship revolves around the sanctity of water and air." She was bent forward with her elbows on her knees as she spoke to Sarah, pointing an astute index finger up in the air.

"Huh," Sarah said, and turned back to Jareth. "Does the Goblin Kingdom have a national religion?"

"No," Jareth said, and, from his clipped tone, she feared that's all he had to say. Thankfully, after running a casual hand through his hair, he carried on. "I've made my kingdom a haven for all beliefs. I find oppression through the church to be stifling and annoying."

"And that has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Thaelon once outlawed all forms of religion, correct?" Roldan quirked. Sarah saw a tick move through Jareth's expression but it was fleeting. Sarah looked over at Roldan harshly.

"Do you have to be an ass?" she snapped. Roldan paused and checked himself. She looked serious. Oops.

"As I said," Jareth interjected, his enunciated tone telling her to look his way. She did, and he leaned towards her again. "-it was stifling and annoying."

"So, what do you believe in?" she asked, without thinking. They were staring into each other's eyes, and hers were innocently unguarded. They'd never had this conversation before. Maybe it deserved more tact.

Sarah, slowly catching on to what might be a very serious divulge of information, was startled by the dramatic return of Kodrun.

"Alas, friends, I have returned!" he said, and unnamed drinks were suddenly being thrust into their hands. "Drink up. Our spirits flow like rivers!" he added, twiddling his fingers in the air as he exclaimed. She'd actually jumped in her spot, she'd been so startled. He'd appeared directly in front of her, like Jareth often did. He balanced a tray of cups in one hand while leaning down and serving them with the other.

"T-thank you," Sarah said, locking eyes with him awkwardly as he came in close to her face. His eyes were dark, his lashes devastatingly long. He smiled and nodded in response.

When his tray was clear, he took it in hand and cast it away like a discus. Sarah veered back sharply in pursuit of it, blinking dumbly at the fae at the far end of the clearing who, with some omnipotence, looked up and caught the thing just in time before it had the chance to decapitate someone. When she turned back around, he was holding a dusty cushion (that appeared out of nowhere) and dropped it onto the sand before reclining languidly across it at their feet. Sarah held her cup awkwardly -carved from wood, she noted- and stared around until she felt properly acclimated.

There was about fifteen or so feet between the logs and the fire, which was enough distance to keep them warm but not bothered, and allowed for just enough space for the dancers to carry on undisrupted by Kodrun's placement. Her question to Jareth utterly forgotten, she now watched them with intrigue. The women wore wraps around their chests, and pieces of fabric fitted together with gold ropes around their hips. She could not even label them as skirts. Loincloths, maybe. The light of the fire was bright, near blinding, and exuded a heat that seemed oddly tamed. She felt fine, but feared for the bodies of the men and women flaunting themselves with such abandon just a few feet in front of their faces. They were glistening, dripping from head to toe with sweat. It looked carnal. And it smelled...surprisingly good.

Jareth leaned away from her and took a deep, relaxed breath.

"I believe in a combination of things," he started, surprising her by answering her question when he did not have to. She looked at him as he took a long sip from his cup. "I also have...some beliefs of my own. But this is not the place for that conversation." -Nor would it ever be. Jareth's beliefs were unique. Were secret. Were fact. They were the result of his awareness of Liana. And, while he felt a connection with the Alvari, it was his determination that the closest thing to the truth of their world was a knowledge that only his family possessed -but even then, it was fragmented. He knew so much and yet nothing at all. They knew so much and yet nothing at all. It was a little bit sad. The ignorance devised by the mere passing of time…

Against this bit of existential musing, Jareth's response was perfectly pleasant; but it still had Sarah frowning. She saw through him in the only way that mattered. He was holding back. Forcing the pretense. She did not like seeing such a carefully crafted posture on him. Was it just the setting, or was this something he actually didn't want to discuss with her? That bothered her. A lot. Mainly because she couldn't think of a reason why he would be so reluctant. She chose to believe the former. She knew he was a spiritual person. This was probably just a topic more serious to him than she realized.

"But of course it is!" Kodrun replied. Sarah looked down at him as he sprawled on the ground. He lay on his side, his head supported by a hand, and had a sensual leg drawn up. Sarah wasn't quite sure what to make of this guy. He had better legs than Marie, and his skin was very shiny. With her eyes lowered on him, she now noticed a rather odd ring of mushrooms sprouting from the sand that traced the circumference of the bonfire in the space between him and the dancers. Interesting. "An Alvari hearth is the perfect place to unbridle one's spirit. It is our purpose. We are at your disposal." Kodrun lowered his head and rolled his hands in deference. Sarah waited a beat, eyeing Jareth discreetly for cue that he might elaborate. He didn't, and, in the effort to distract herself from that odd blip of tension, she bit her lip and seized the moment for herself.

"Okay. Um...I hope you're not offended, but I'm not from around here. What exactly are the Alvari?"

There was the smallest of pauses preceding Kodrun's reply. He blinked at her, like he was caught off guard, and yet his smile only grew.

"Offended? Sister, never. It is a blessing to be asked such a thing," he said, and placed an emphatic hand on his heart. "I fear it's been too long since I've heard such pleasant words. Of course I will tell you -The Alvari worship The Alvra. That is the true name of Nature. We were the first. The first institution to unite the people of this continent towards harmonious ambition. We believe The Alvra is the guiding hand of Nature. Its consciousness which judges the world of men."

"You know this concept as Almother, or Mother Nature. A personification, really," Jareth added, leaning close to her ear but not quite whispering. Sarah nodded in understanding.

"I see...and who is The Mavra? Is she your leader?" she asked. Kodrun nodded.

"The Mavra is our priestess. Ma, meaning Mother, and Vra, Protector. Priests are named Favra, for Father Protector. Every Alvari clan is led by either a Mavra or Favra," he explained.

"And Al?"

"World. Alvra translates to Protector Of The World."

Sarah looked down into her cup and tapped its side. She had no idea what this liquid was, but everyone else was consuming it freely. She leaned down to sniff it, and crinkled her nose. Wine. It was probably wine. These people lived off the stuff.

"And Favraier? What does that mean?"

"A Favraier is an...apprentice," Kodrun said, tapping his lips with his fingers as he searched for the most appropriate translations. "A Favra in training. I serve as second to the Mavra."

"Oh." And then she looked over to Jareth.

"Why haven't I heard of any of this? Why did the Druid say Almother?"

"It's a derivative. Druids adapt language from the grimoire it is given. It does not normally possess the ability to speak. If we had used an Alvari canon, it would have used the term Alvra."

"Oh," Sarah said, again, unaware of the new light of intrigue Kodrun was now staring at her with.

"You've met a Druid?" he asked, moving to sit on his haunches. Sarah's eyes darted a little.

"Um...yeah. At our wedding," she said, and awkwardly turned a thumb between her and Jareth.

"A marriage? Under a Druid? Was it recent?" And now he looked excited. Was that...good? Sarah, just now realizing they had never introduced themselves, wondered if concealing their identities had perhaps been Jareth's intention. Should she say anything more?

"Yes...about...um...how long ago did we get married?" she turned and asked Jareth, wincing a little in the hope that he would not be offended by such a question.

"Five weeks," he answered, flatly, behind the rim of his cup. Sarah frowned a little. Wow, it'd already been over a month since the wedding? Damn. It felt like yesterday…

"Ah. A solstice wedding then."

"Solstice?" Sarah repeated, her head turning to Kodrun on instinct and then immediately back to Jareth. "We got married on the solstice?"

"Yes."

"Now, that I did mention," Roldan interjected. Sarah turned towards him with a frown. The summer Solstice was the longest day of the year, a fae holiday, Roldan had told her -but little else. Only that it was also a convenient time to host their wedding. -Two birds with one stone, kind of thing.

"Oh. Right."

"Blessed be. A solstice wedding and now a chance gathering the week of Lughnasa? It is a sign from Alvra, surely. We are bade to celebrate!" Kodrun cheered, shaking his fists in the air with glee. It was a very Marie mannerism. She imagined they'd become thick as thieves before the night was through.

"Wait, what?" Sarah asked, caught off guard this new energy, and the way he stood to his feet and clapped his hands together loudly.

"Come! Gather 'round brothers and sisters!" He shouted, drawing the attention of all nearby ears. "Our guests have just informed me of their good tidings. Alvra has gifted us a fresh marriage to bless on this final day of Lughnasa! Are we not truly blessed?!" His voice rose with passion and the crowd of Alvari cheered in response. Sarah felt her shoulders cowering in embarrassment, and her eyes scanned around all the happy faces timidly. She almost flinched when Kodrun knelt down to speak directly to her. "Sister, what would you like me to call you by?" he asked. A little thrown by his phrasing, Sarah knitted her brow as she mulled over a response.

"Um, well my name is Sarah. So I guess that?"

The inflection in her voice made it sound like she was unsure if that was correct, which was something that had Jareth snickering into his cup. Oh, she was probably so flustered right now.

Kodrun's eyes blinked rapidly as if the word itself had reached out and slapped him across the face. He drew back a little, and, just as he was about to respond, crossed gazes with Jareth, who was giving him a rather cutting side-eye. Kodrun paused, his mouth still hanging open in a smile, and then turned back to Sarah with more consideration.

"-Ah. Sarah, lovely," he said, recovering perfectly and leaving Sarah none the wiser. To those feeling less anxious than she, he may have now seemed a little flustered. "Thank you for honouring us this night," he continued, and stood once more. "Please, friends, wait here while preparations are made." He left quickly after that, which allowed Sarah to finally let loose her torrent of butterflies all over Jareth.

"Preparations? What kind of preparations? Why are they so excited about our wedding that happened a month ago?" she asked. Jareth, taking too much delight in her pitiful panic, shrugged and cracked a grin on the side of his face she could not see.

"Because tonight is the final night of their Lughnasa celebration, as it seems."

"Yeah, you never did explain that to me. I thought you said it was to celebrate the harvest or something?"

"Yes, but it's also a holiday commemorating new marriages."

"Isn't that a fine coincidence." She was getting sassy now, and with a matching pout to boot. Jareth, finishing the last of his drink, lowered it from his mouth.

"Indeed. Praise Alvra," he said, sarcastically, and held up his empty cup in an imaginary toast. Sarah growled a little.

"Do they even know who we are? You haven't introduced us," she shifted directions, lowering her tone discreetly as fae strangers began to draw near. They were bustling about, she noticed, redecorating the clearing. Though she didn't have the spare attention to inspect it much.

"I doubt it," Jareth replied -almost lying. They did not know who they were. But now, thanks to Sarah, Kodrun definitely did. "Normally, our identities or stations would remain anonymous. All are equal at an Alvari table."

"Do you not want them to know?" she asked. Again, Jareth shrugged.

"It's fine either way. The Alvari are quite fond of me."

He sounded very priggish in that response, which had one of Sarah's brows arching sharply.

"Oh, are they? Why is that?"

"Yes, Jareth. Tell her why."

Sarah glanced over at Roldan who, apparently, had been eavesdropping. Not that she minded. Especially given the very baited tone he had used. Oh, so there was a story waiting to be told? Ever curious, Sarah turned back to Jareth attentively.

"Happily," Jareth said, biting the word with forced decorum, and then turned his disingenuous look down at her. "I took a sabbatical when I was young. A tribe of Alvari -not this one- had visited the Capital, and I found them...intriguing. They allowed me to travel with them for a time," he explained, anticlimactically. Sarah, on the precipice of a letdown, glanced at Roldan as he suddenly huffed with laughter.

"Hmph. You mean you ran away…"

"What?"

"Such a bitter bump on the log you are, Roldan," Jareth was quick to say, before Sarah could properly react. "-giving away all my secrets. Perhaps you would like to tell the story?" Pretension disguised as playfulness was a trademarked skill of Jareth the Goblin King. He carried it proudly, with a discerning eye that passed over Sarah's head and straight into Roldan. Roldan, however, with a very irritating show of impertinence, ignored it and turned away dismissively.

"No. No, t'is your life," he said, and waved a hand in the air. "I'm simply here to correct any of your usual embellishments."

"You ran away from home?" Sarah asked, ignoring their minor friction, and pushing on with the story. Mariella, who had been so very quiet on the far end of the log, leaned around Roldan as best she could to hear Jareth's recount as well.

"It pains me to see how readily you side with Roldan over me," Jareth said, with a gallant and obviously false tone. "I suppose I must now defend myself. I left by my own choice, without asking permission from my father, if that's what you mean."

"So yes, he ran away." -Roldan's quips were being duly tallied, he was sure, but he didn't much care. This story would not know the light of day if he had been allowed to stay behind. It seemed having Sarah as a shield was making him more pert than usual -though such confidence was betrayed by the way his eyes averted every time she glanced back at him. Perhaps he was not so bold after all. Maybe it would have been better to have let her sit beside Marie.

"For how long? How old were you?" Sarah asked. Her eyes darted here and there, catching on all the labourings of the Alvari in the background. Many of them had changed their clothes. Now they wore rings of flowers and had painted their limbs with something red.

"I was gone...about six months. I was extremely young. Gods...twenty-five maybe?" Jareth said, and her attention flickered back to him in shock.

"Twenty-five? Twenty-five years? Like, human years?" she asked. He arched a brow at her.

"As opposed to what?"

"No, it's just…" and she started asking her head. "-I'm always expecting there to be a zero or two added when it comes to your species."

"Well, even I was a child -once upon a time," Jareth said, and looked away.

"So you left, just like that? The Crowned Prince of the nation, and you thought it was okay to poof off without a trace? Did you hop in the back of a wagon, or what?"

"Pretty much."

"Jesus," Sarah said, her eyes widening with thought. "I'm shocked Thaelon didn't kill you."

"As were we all," said Roldan.

"Please. I learned a great deal from my time with them," Jareth retorted. "They are an extremely wise and well-cultured people. I was able to convince my father of this upon my return as well. He admired a good show of courage and adventure. Danger and impulse. I think he was actually proud I'd gone out on my own -after he finished beating me anyway. Although...in retrospect, I suppose I deserved it."

"Goddamn, Jareth," Sarah said, recoiling with a very disturbed kind of expression.

"We do what we can," Jareth said, and tossed her a reassuring wink. (It did not reassure her.) Not wanting to ruin her mood, or talk about this any further, he decided to change the topic entirely. "I see you haven't touched your drink," he observed, eyeing her cup as it compared to all their empty ones. Sarah blinked out of her rumination and looked into her cup as well.

"Oh…well, what even is it? It smells kind of funny." She sloshed it around, and he gave her a smirk.

"Take a sip. Trust me."

For reasons that did not need to be stated, Sarah was skeptical even with Jareth's blessing. Still, it was probably rude not to at least taste it, and she didn't want to offend her hosts. She brought the cup to her mouth and pinched her lips, only allowing the smallest amount of liquid to seep past onto her tongue.

She blinked rapidly at the taste of it, and sat up straight with a surprising vigor.

"Oh, wow. Wow, that's good," she said, and quickly took another sip. It was thick, ice cold, and possibly the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted. "-really good, actually. It's...fizzy."

"Alvari mead is a true gift from the gods...or Alvra, in this case," Jareth said, pleased by her reaction. He continued to watch her as she steadily consumed the whole thing. "Brewing it has become their primary means of living."

"With good reason," Sarah said, her taste buds still confused over how to interpret exactly what it was she was tasting. It was unlike any flavor she'd ever experienced. Impossible to describe. "Can I have another?"

While she hadn't meant to order him then and there, Sarah realized too late that this was a public setting and that was exactly what she did. She recoiled a little, as if she'd faux pas'd (Maybe she should have asked Roldan), but Jareth only smiled at her. Pleased by the request.

"Of course," he said, and bowed his head as he took her cup from her. "A word of caution though: I know it glides smoother than water, but best to pace yourself. This spirit is extremely alcoholic." He gave her a very knowing eye and then stood from the log. Sarah watched him as he stepped over it and went -somewhere- to procure her more. Did he even know where he was going?

The Alvari were now setting up a band of instruments on the other side of the fire. Large canvas drums, peculiar woodwinds, and a bell-chime that clanked as they dragged it into place.

"Don't let him fool you. He really did run away," she heard Roldan mutter very close to her ear. She turned towards him to find he'd also raised a hand to his cheek to conceal the space between them.

"Huh?"

"His constant preening kills me. The truth is, he and Thaelon had a rather nasty falling out, which just so happened to coincide with a traveling fair hosted by Alvari. Jareth was enamoured, sure, but more so he thought it an easy escape from the city. I advised him not to. Heavily. But, of course, he never listens to me."

"Oh my, Master Roldan, you're not gossiping are you?" Mariella, now freed from the bonds of her station by Jareth's departure, was all too eager to finally join in on the conversation. Roldan looked over at her as he responded.

"Gossip is an ugly word. I told you, I'm correcting certain embellishments." And then he shrugged and carried on with his original thought. "He left on a completely childish impulse of angst. Running off to become an Alvari monk -please. As if such a farcical act of defiance would have put Thaelon in his place. Although...he did return with a better rounded sense of culture, I will give him that. But not without his tail between his legs."

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked.

"As I said, Thaelon had outlawed religious practice. It was stupid, and I have no idea why. He was also extremely particular about the knowledge his sons did and did not receive. He wanted them molded in a very specific way and Jareth, well, luckily he was smarter than that. He left in the effort to learn all the things he knew his father was keeping from us. I believe he did. Thank gods. Though it was not without cost."

"What cost?" Mariella, ever the dramatic, asked Sarah's question for her. This time, suspiciously, Roldan hesitated before responding.

"I'd...rather not say." And then he turned to look Sarah straight in the eye. "Though, please take to heart when I say we really were surprised he did not die that day." The weight in those words did not need to be extrapolated. Sarah held his gaze until he looked away. "Now, I'm not one for any spiritual preference-"

"Yeah, I kind of figured that," Sarah interrupted. "Are you a nihilist?"

"I believe we live and we die, and maybe learn some magic in between," he said, and then tilted his head down at her. "The rest is nil, yes."

"Oh Master Roldan, always so cynical…"

"-With that said," he continued. "I understand his respect for this particular institution. They are centered on pillars of kindness and redemption. On the unbridled spirit. I think...over those months, he found a kinship with them he had never quite experienced. When Jareth took the throne, one of his first decrees was to offer spiritual sanction. Not so generously to all at first, but to the Alvari specifically."

"I get it," Sarah said, and turned to look over their surroundings. The fae, no matter what they were doing, were all smiling with one another. They were all laughing and offering to help each other with the preparations. They teased each other, and kissed each other, and touched each other in casual gestures that were intimate and tender. It was a strange thing to observe, mainly because it was genuinely loving -not at all lewd like that of the courtesans in Davion's Court. She tried to imagine the effect being thrust into this lifestyle might have had on a very young and obviously troubled Jareth. The way he smiled at the Mavra...he said he did not know her, but there was real admiration in that look. Hm..."That's why he got so excited," she mumbled, coming to a clear understanding.

"Yes. Insufferably so."

"But, why would the Alvari need sanction?" she asked, and then startled when Jareth suddenly climbed over the log beside her.

"Because they are ostracized," he said, handing her her drink and, apparently, was neither surprised nor bothered that they had continued the conversation without him.

"What? Really?" she asked.

"You were just told they practice the old ways," Jareth continued, sitting back down on the log and taking a deep sip from his fresh drink. "They were the first legitimate church in Orpia. The first Favra was said to have served under Orpus himself. Back in a time when church and state were essentially one, the reigning Favra influenced all."

"So what happened?"

"I'm not sure."

"There is conflicting history," Roldan clarified.

"Some say the King at the time -though of which nation, no-one has any idea- had a differing of religious opinions with the Favra. This King managed to turn the rest of the Council on him, and had the entire church dissolved from Court statute. Others say The Favra was a glutton for power and betrayed the Council Kings by trying to have them all murdered. Regardless of what actually happened, by some events, the Alvari were torn from grace. A new sect formed, an Alvari derivative, that better suited the political aims of the Council. It is called Fendr'Al, by the way, and remains the current church of the Orpian aristocracy."

Sarah sipped from her cup slowly as she watched Jareth speak.

"So, our wedding?"

"Was performed in the church of Fendr'Al, yes."

Sarah was quiet for a moment, several pieces of newly learned knowledge just now falling into place.

"So...it doesn't matter what you believe?" She asked, drawing her brow tightly. "The citizens can practice however they chose, but you have to participate in that religion just because you're a member of an Orpian royal family?"

"Yes."

That was absurd. No wonder Roldan was a nihilist. She glared back at him accordingly.

"And you really think I didn't need to know any of this?"

"No, I said I didn't think you needed to know any of it in preparation for your coronation. I had a mere four weeks to prepare you for social interaction. My biggest concern was preventing you from inadvertently starting a war on the dance floor," he explained, without remorse.

"So that's why you said honoring the Druid was a superficial waste of time? That it was purely out of custom?"

"Exactly. Which is also why I don't particularly smile on the idea of any religious institute. Rituals are an empty gesture. In the end, it's all superficial."

"So what happened next? After they were disbanded?" It didn't really matter to whom the question was directed, although she was in the process of turning back to Jareth.

"Well, those who would not convert went on the run. They were persecuted across all eight kingdoms. They split into small groups and traveled constantly, and thus evolved into tribes such as the one you currently see around you. Over time, the Court's disdain for them has fallen passive. Now they are merely looked down on or ignored."

"And you gave them special sanction?"

Caught off guard by her question, Jareth narrowed his eyes and glared at Roldan.

"I told her," he admitted, with little care. Jareth's eyes lingered for a moment, and then lowered.

"Yes…It was a bold move, though perhaps an unwise one for a monarch so green. It was not received well in Court," he told her.

"Oh. And now?"

"They've gotten over it." He angled away and tilted his head back as he pounded the last of his drink. Sarah wondered what would happen to her if she attempted such a thing. "Many Alvari tribes live here permanently. Traveling the Barrens, I mean. Though of course, they cannot ignore their calling. They must leave the safety of our borders every now and again to liberate the common man."

"Wow. That's all so interesting," Sarah said, and turned away as she leaned back to spy on the status of the impromptu party they were being given. The maypoles had been altered. The ribbons and vines once lacing a canopy were now twisted down into the skeletons of tepees. Lights now shone from them as well, which attracted many of the moths she'd seen earlier. "Hm...It really was a perfect coincidence to cross paths tonight."

Perfect...yes. If one held the views of an Alvari, they would say there are no such things as coincidence -especially where Sarah was concerned. For a very brief moment, Jareth had found himself wondering if this run-in really was a matter of divine fate. But surely Liana did not care for things so trivial. Surely she was not so omnipotent?

Or perhaps she was. Perhaps, as the Mavra was speaking her daily prayers, the voice of sweet, deceptive Liana had whispered they make camp in this particular spot on this particular day, and treat kindly the guests they would receive. But that was crazy. Surely, he was going crazy. Paranoia was gnawing at him like rot on an open wound. He just kept waiting for something terrible to happen. For Sarah to awaken and Liana to laugh so wickedly in his face. Maybe that was one of the reasons he was fine with taking her out of the city. Getting her away from the Labyrinth and Liana's heart for a few days might help settle him down. He tried, so many times, to console himself with the fact that at least, without the charm's obstruction, Liana could fully protect her once more. He didn't have to worry about her safety any more. At all. Which, admittedly, had taken a great deal of weight off of his shoulders. She was invincible to everything. ...Except for Liana's influence. Damn. The thought just wouldn't go away.

But maybe destruction was what he desired deep down, for he was surely tempting fate by bringing her here tonight. A part of him was curious -the researcher whom trepidation could not so easily slay.

He wanted to know how the Mavra would react to her. If she could read Sarah the way Bezaleel had. To both his relief and curiosity, it seemed she couldn't. She had mentioned something of Liana's blessing, but it was vague and, in all likelihood, superficial. The Alvari were once the attendants of Liana's altar. The self-sabotaging part of himself had honestly hoped for more. My, how far they had fallen.

Which brought him back to more current matters. The main reason Jareth had allowed Roldan to make a fool of him during his telling of childhood follies was to in fact deflect from what had actually happened. He was twenty-five, Davion was nine, and their father had begun educating him on the existence and purpose of Liana.

Right away Jareth knew there were gaping holes missing from his father's teachings. By his recount, Liana's origins did not matter at all. Her reason for existing did not matter at all. The only thing of focus was that she was powerful, and that she could be controlled. When asked the why and the how, his father had been frustratingly bereft. Liana was a tool, nothing more. What mattered was what could be done with her, rather than should. It was the future he was to look towards, not the past.

When he had crossed paths with the Alvari, he was deeply enthralled by their ideology, for it sounded suspiciously close to what he was learning of Liana. He'd spoken with the Favra, and was given sacred texts to study in secret. After becoming certain the Alvra and Liana were in fact the same deity, he very impulsively followed after them as they moved on to perform in the next city. He needed to know what it was his father was trying to keep from him, or perhaps if there was knowledge his father just didn't know himself. He also needed to know if these people were a threat. If they knew of Liana in the way he did.

But they did not. No, they believed Liana existed only in a metaphysical sense. Their history and their folklore did in no way allude to the bonds that had been placed on her, or her connection to the Goblin Kings. They did not know that she could be controlled, or that she had been for generations. This rendered them absolutely harmless. Perhaps these books were written before she was chained? He didn't know. He only knew that the Favra worshipped the Alvra, Orpus had controlled the Alvra, and the Favra had served Orpus. Curious history this was, but did little to help his current situation.

When he returned home, it was with a deeper respect and reverence for the tool his father was grooming him for. If she was Alvra, then she was as close to a god as one could believe. By whatever means, and for whatever purpose, she was bound to this world -and as a young fae that had terrified him. As he grew older, as he distanced himself farther and farther from the ambitions of his father, he began to see the truth of it. Liana was Nature. And, by acts of Man, by acts of his father and forefathers, Nature had been defiled. It had been corrupted and broken. And in return, the land on which they lived became corrupted and broken. The desert spread, from her very heart, and Jareth knew it would one day consume the entire world if balance was not restored.

He told himself he would be a great King. He told himself he would be a savior and a saint. He would be his father's opposite. He had worked so hard, dedicated everything to preparation for the day his father died. Which was why...to this very moment, he did not understand why he was not even given the chance.

Sarah was musing over coincidences while idly sipping her drink, and Jareth remembered it was his cue to respond.

"A pleasant coincidence, anyway."

Sarah did not reply, perhaps she didn't hear him. It didn't matter, as that was the moment Kodrun finally returned.

He was wearing a new outfit. A gold and red, sparkling tunic replaced his original, and over it he wore a deep red shawl that was tied to his waist with a teal sash. He had a harem of very pretty men and women standing behind him this time, all staring down at the four of them with eager expressions.

"I believe we're ready. Would you join us in a dance, Sarah?" Kodrun asked, and offered her a hand. "And you as well...?" He'd turned and spoken to Jareth, obviously wanting him to offer his name. Jareth held his stare, conveying a small challenge which resulted in Kodrun's smile waning to something humble. No name was shared. He lowered his eyes and, in defeat, extended the other hand out to Jareth despite it.

"By all means," Jareth said, accepting the gesture and rising to his feet. Sarah, on impulse, did the same.

"All of you are welcome to join," Kodrun added, looking at Roldan and Mariella. Mariella nearly leapt to her feet.

"Oh really? Sarah, may I?" she asked, like a delighted child, and wiggled her fingers anxiously. Sarah cocked a one-sided grin. As if she was going to partake in whatever dance this was on her own.

"Oh course," she said, waving her over. "Actually, I'm insisting on it. You coming too, Roldan?"

She looked down and he shook his head.

"No thank you."

He looked exceedingly bored, and it was nothing new. Rolling her eyes, she turned away.

"Suit yourself…"

Bowing his head to Roldan, Kodrun, still clasping both Sarah and Jareth's hands, backed away from the log with them in tow. They took a few steps, and then stopped just before the ring of mushrooms.

"We'll be crossing the faerie ring. I notice you're human. I hope you don't mind?" he asked. Sarah blinked, then looked to Jareth for confirmation. Would Kodrun think her an idiot to ask what a faerie ring even was?

"The fungus emits spores that can have...an interesting effect. On humans especially," Jareth explained. Sarah pursed her lips. Great. More drugs. This really was Burning Man. Although...Jareth hadn't hesitated to bring her here, so the effects couldn't be that severe, right?

"What kind of effect?" she asked, warily.

"Nothing you need fret over," Jareth promised, looking her in the eye with earnest. "It simply encourages one...to do what they want," he explained, choosing his words scrupulously.

"Like at Davion's?" she asked.

"No. No, it doesn't create a stupor. You'll see."

And then Kodrun squeezed her hand and crinkled his nose at her.

"It also makes your ears hot. So there's that," he added. She laughed at his good nature, and glanced around. There didn't seem to be any nefarious cues poking at her, and she trusted Jareth to take care of her. Hm...why not?

"Well, can't pass up on that," she said, and stepped over the threshold.

Very pleased with her decision, Kodrun smiled widely and held her hand higher in the air as he then passed Jareth into the care of three snickering fae ladies. Um. Wait a minute-

Kodrun turned away and took hold of Mariella's hand instead. He began to lead them to the left of the circle, in the opposite direction of where the women were now leading Jareth.

"Um, why are we being separated?" Sarah asked, her head arched back nervously as she stared at Jareth and the way he was not staring back at her at all, and was instead smiling down at the barely-clothed women who were now touching him all over like a new toy. Oh. Oh that was not a good feeling she just felt. Her eyes narrowed on his smug profile, angled down as he said something to a woman who just about died with laughter. Goddamn traitor.

"We need to get you ready," Kodrun replied, tilting his head down to her. "It is custom."

"Hehe! Oh, I am so excited I think I might burst!" Mariella squealed. She bounced a little, jerking Kodrun's arm with her, and he laughed in response.

"Have you never danced with an Alvari, my lady?"

"No, goodness no. And please, call me Mariella." She fawned a little, which was no surprise. Kodrun was gorgeous and just as exotic as Marie -and she was never one to pass up a good-looking man. She tapped him with the tips of her fingers playfully, and smiled.

While Jareth was busy with the company of women, Sarah was graced with attention from both genders. Accompanying she, Marie, and Kodrun, were two fae ladies and a boy who looked to be about Sarah's age. Once they all came to the edge of the far end of the circle, they stopped. A drum beat had started, a low, slow rhythm. Sarah turned around, fearful she would not be able to see Jareth beyond the fire, and was surprised to find it was now lulling. By some magical means, perhaps by the beat of the drum, the twenty foot flames were undulating lower, darkening from blazing white, to yellow, to red, as it came to burn as little more than strange, terribly hot embers in a cobbled pit. It darkened the atmosphere considerably, and gave everything a haunting, primal veil. In that moment, through the distorted air above the fire, she locked eyes with Jareth. His smile curled, devilishly, just before spurning her for the pleasure of his attendants.

Sarah was so angry she nearly stomped through the coals just to smack him.

"Are you ladies ready to change?"

Sarah, glowering heavily, reluctantly turned away from her jerk of a husband and faced Kodrun. He was gesturing towards his apostles. They were holding garments folded in their arms. Sarah blinked at them curiously.

"Change? You mean our clothes?"

"Unless you'd like to spend the night as a rabbit, yes," he said, teasingly -partially. Sarah eyed the clothes in their hands, wondering how much of her would actually be covered by them. If her surrounding companions were any indication, not much.

"You want us to get undressed out in the open like this?" she asked, her sense of modesty creeping in. Kodrun did not seem to understand her trepidation, so Mariella facilitated.

"Sarah was raised with more conservative values than we. Might we hold a curtain of some sort, to give her privacy?" she asked, oh-so-charmingly. Kodrun smiled at her and nodded.

"Of course. We shall use this," he said and untied the sash around his waist. He pulled the shawl from his shoulders -large enough to be a blanket- and one of the women took a corner to create a nice little hovel for her to cower in. It shielded her on only one side, but across from them was a tent, where no other prying eyes loomed. But even with this, she still felt nervous. She didn't know these people. Honestly, the only person who'd actually seen her change before (from full buff) was Jareth. At least Marie was there for support. But- Wait a minute-

Sarah glared back sharply, over the curtain, in Jareth's direction. If they wanted to dress her, that meant they wanted to dress him as well...

And, oh the rat bastard, he did not show any hesitation at all! Sarah nearly seethed. She stood with gritted teeth, watching as Jareth smiled down at a lady who was standing way too close and looking way too pleased as she gradually unbuttoned his waistcoat. Another woman was untying the cinch in his sleeves, while the other was letting loose his hair -combing her fingers lightly through it. Watching him enjoy being pawed at so openly had her blood boiling, to such a degree that she turned around with spiteful conviction.

"Looks like we're falling behind," she said irritably, to Marie, as she quickly pulled her blouse up and over her head. Mariella paused and looked over at Jareth, her eyes widening a little in fear. Oh gods. They were in the fae ring. Did His Majesty know what he was getting himself into?

"Let me help you with your boots," the young boy said, and knelt to the ground to work the laces. Sarah, now standing bereft one shirt, stared down at him tersely.

Mariella, not needing any help with her ensemble, undressed quickly, covering her breasts with an arm (out of consideration for Sarah and nothing else) as one of the female attendants handed her a chest wrap. Sarah stepped out of her boots and shimmied out of her pants. She was in her bra and underwear now and, while only moments ago would have been incredibly self conscious, now could not care less as she stared over, once again, searingly, at Jareth.

There was feminine laughter as they pulled his shirt up and over his head. And they would just not stop smiling -like they were having a grand old time. Thankfully, for everyone, he was allowed to keep his pants. But not his boots, she noted. He was already barefoot, and the hem of his trousers were rolled up to his knee. The woman behind him had begun to braid his hair. One held a bowl, and she and the remaining woman were dipping their fingers into it as they now began to paint his torso with something red. Two horizontal lines under each clavicle. Two just below each deltoid. Two angled at his hips… One woman knelt to the ground and drew lines on the top of his feet. The other marked his cheeks. And, while all this was happening, he did not acknowledge Sarah's existence, nor the sensation of her angry stare that was surely prickling at his brain, even once.

Feeling her cheeks heat to the temperature of the fire, Sarah glared back and unhooked her bra.

"So what's next?" she asked, impatiently. The boy stepped back to help Mariella finish hooking her skirt in place, so the woman, who was not preoccupied holding up the curtain, took his place. She handed Sarah one end of a dark-red ribbon.

"We're going to bind your chest with this. I will help," she said. Sarah nodded. Maintaining as much discretion as possible, Sarah maneuvered the cloth over her breasts and then released herself to be circled by the woman. She wrapped it around her several times, and then secured it somehow in the back. Next she unfolded what would be her "skirt", which Sarah assumed matched Marie's.

Sarah was thankful she'd decided to wear a thong that day, otherwise she'd have probably had to remove her underwear too. What was meant to conceal the lower half of her body was a band of woven gold cords that hung low on her hips -like the dancers from earlier. Falling in the front and the back were pieces of fabric, the same red shade as her top, that came to about her knee. The sides were open, the profile of her rear obstructed only by a light weaving of rope that draped to her mid-thigh. The boy, having finished with Mariella, was now standing behind Sarah, and removed the accessories from her hair before he braided it -just as the women had done to Jareth.

As Sarah stared over herself, she felt suddenly insecure over the slight bloatedness of her stomach. She looked over at Marie, her mirror reflection (in attire, anyway), and almost laughed.

"We look like Princess Leia," she said. Mariella looked at her confusedly.

"Who?"

"Nevermind," Sarah said. She shook her head, and looked back to spy on Jareth.

And then she lost her breath. This guy wasn't pulling any punches, was he? Sarah turned, forgetting there were still hands in her hair, and growled so disdainfully she was sure it inspired the loud crack that broke from the fire just then.

They were kneeling before him. Literally kneeling. One of them was flat out prostrated on the ground. A different woman held each of his hands and were kissing his wrists. The third, the tops of his feet. What the fuck? Their mouths rose, moving higher up his limbs, and she noticed how precisely placed each of their kisses were. One on the inside of each elbow. One at each shoulder. One on his chest...just above his navel…

Oh, that dirty motherfucker.

Sarah, not fully understanding, nor caring to understand, what exactly was going on over there, puffed up her chest and cast all this modesty bullshit to the wind.

"May I anoint you, Sarah?"

She glanced back at the boy who was now standing in front of her. He was holding a bowl like the one Jareth's women had. And he was staring at her patiently. Anoint?

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Markos," he said, bowing his head. Sarah ran her eyes up and down him, entertaining all kinds of spiteful schemes as she reached for Kodrun's shawl.

"Yes, Markos. You may anoint me," and then she looked up at Kodrun. "I don't need this anymore."

With a smile, Kodrun bowed his head and lowered his shawl. The woman who had been holding the far corner released it, and was freed to aid Markos. The other woman was already painting Marie. Sarah, using rage to fuel her confidence, stood with her chin high and her back straight as Markos lowered to his knees.

Roldan, who had been sitting quietly and by his lonesome, glanced about every now and again for the mere sake of it. This was not his scene. Tribal revelry was not his scene. Actually, Court revelry was not much better either. But alas, such was life, and here he was. He nursed his drink and kept a close eye on Jareth. He was closer to him than Sarah was. Still within appropriate speaking distance. He'd been noting the look on Jareth's face while dirty women touched him. Noted it was very unwise to fall back on such bad habits while Sarah was within a faerie ring. But, t'was not his place to intervene. Jareth would not heed him anyway…

His eyes roamed vacantly back to said human. He hadn't been able to see much of her. She'd wisely erected a barrier while she changed. Still, he'd seen her bare shoulder as she'd shrugged out of her brassiere. Spied her bare feet as a male had pulled her socks from her. That was an odd thing to observe, he thought. The way her toes curled in the sand so nervously…

But now he gasped. Or choked. Or both. He had not expected the curtain to be lowered when he looked over this time. Not expected to see-

So much skin. There was so...so much skin.

She stood in profile, with nothing but a band of color around her breasts and dangling gold chains at her hips. They glinted against the fire light, contoured to her shape, and did absolutely nothing to favor the imagination over the exact curve of her ass where it met her thigh. She held one leg bent, the leg facing them, with her foot angled sharply in line as a deeply honored fae adolescent closed his eyes and kissed it. A woman held out her opposite arm, and was kissing the back of her hand. She was painted. Displaying the same clay markings as Jareth. Two dripping lines at her bicep, two on her cheeks, her stomach, her thigh... She had an air about her. A dangerous air. A regal air. An air that revealed itself as pure, womanly rage as she turned her head just slightly and glared daggers straight into Jareth.

If Roldan weren't so exposed, he might have appreciated her better. But, as it was, he thought it wise -for all- to bring Jareth in on his gander. He scooched down to the end of the log, as close to Jareth as he could get without having to stand, and called out to him.

"I think you may have offended the Queen with your...er-hem friendliness," he said, with tact. Jareth, still entertaining a strange woman's lips on his neck, turned and looked across the way like he'd had no idea what Roldan was talking about.

True to word, Sarah was looking royally pissed off. As soon as their eyes met, Sarah's turned slowly, dismissively, away. She held herself in a very particular pose, flaunting her body, and looked down to smile so pleasantly at the man who was now lightly massaging her calf as he kissed her knee. There were hands on her in other places as well. Mouths too. Hands and mouths that were not his. Kodrun had left, and now returned with a crown made of berries and vines, and wove it into her hair. She looked like a fucking goddess. Like a creature of pure destruction. Worshipped. Powerful. And enjoying every second of it. And the fact that she, so very blatantly, wanted to kill him while looking like that had his dick throbbing.

"Do you think it wise to provoke her like that while in the ring? Given her...demeanor?" Roldan asked, but Jareth wasn't listening. In fact, rather than reflecting Sarah's jealousy, watching the way men and women's lips caressed her pale, delicate skin, still moving farther and farther up her body, had him growing wild with excitement. He wanted to join them. He wanted her all to himself.

Suddenly, he was pushing away the women preening over him like one would a mosquito. He took a step forward, and then appeared immediately at her side.

Sarah, true to form, did not so much as flinch as Jareth came to stand abruptly before her. He had a smile on his face. A nasty, hungry smile that she had no intention of entertaining. She turned her nose up at him, and arched her neck, as Markos brushed her braid out of the way and kissed it.

"Oh. So you remember you have a wife after all," she said, deadpan, and kept her eyes averted. Jareth's grin creeped.

"You've been painted," he observed. Sarah gave him a side-eye.

"So have you."

"Watching that boy touch you is turning me on."

Whether it was his intention or not, such a bold, entirely inappropriate comment shattered through her bravado, and she glared back at him with wide eyes and a tightly clenched jaw. To add insult to injury, Markos, apparently ignorant of Jareth's presence at all, went on to kiss her other shoulder with lingering affection. She tried her very best to remain steadfast.

"I think there's some ladies over there who can help you with that," she said, deridingly. The excitement in Jareth's eyes could barely contain itself.

"I'd like to anoint you," he said, ignoring her comment. Sarah narrowed her eyes.

"I'm already being anointed. As you can see," and she lifted her arm and turned her hand palm up as she offered it to Markos, who took hold of it tenderly and kissed the delicate veins in her wrist. Again -throb.

"I'd like to do it as well," Jareth said, and took a step towards her. Kodrun, who'd been eyeing the King coyly, lightly tapped Markos on the back of the shoulder, and stepped away. "May I?"

Markos had paused, as had the fae woman -Cyrin- who had been kissing her other arm, and both pulled their mouths away as they waited for Sarah's answer. Sarah looked between the two, not wanting to relieve herself of her shields. Kodrun had gone to Marie, taken her hand, and kissed it as he led her a few paces away.

Sarah tilted her head as she took her sweet time in mulling over Jareth's request. What would happen if she said no? Did she have any intention of saying no?

No. Having Jareth on his knees was exactly what she wanted. She nodded, and her two attendants bowed as they released her.

Jareth's smile twitched, as if he had been genuinely nervous of her answer, and then turned to accept the bowl of oil he was offered.

He stepped towards her and twirled an index finger slowly in the clear, viscous liquid. He held her gaze as he traced his lips with it, with more sensuality than she was prepared for, and then, after handing the bowl back to Cyrin, dropped readily to his knees.

Roldan watched -hell, everyone watched- as Jareth (The King Incognito) knelt in the sand and reached for one of Sarah's feet. She offered it to him and pointed her toes down just as she had for Markos, and stared at the top of Jareth's head as he brought the crest of her foot to his lips.

His hands traveled up, wove around her ankle, her calf, and then he leaned in and kissed the side of it. Next her knee. Her thigh. He was taking several liberties, kissing her many more times in many more places than he was meant to, but no one stopped him. He moved slowly, no more slowly than Markos and Cyrin had, and yet it felt agonizing. His hands were hot. Soft. Tender, and possessive, and reverent. The look on his face aroused her. Eyes closed and relaxed in a manner of worship. She felt the heat of his breath breeze across her groin as he moved on to the next leg, this time working his way down and then back up again.

He lifted himself a little higher, knelt on one knee, as he kissed her stomach. His hands were grasping the exposed flesh of her ass and teased to creep further, and the anticipation it caused, had her standing even straighter. She felt his lips, wet with oil, below her belly button, and she sucked in her stomach on reflex. He smiled, then moved higher still.

Sarah gulped. Goddamn it, this was supposed to be degrading. She was supposed to be punishing him. But maybe that was the point. Maybe he'd been provoking her on purpose. He did like to piss her off at the most inopportune moments, so she wouldn't put it past him. Even still, she was not about to let this one go so easily. She'd find a way to get back at him properly...eventually.

Now his hands were around her ribs, his mouth pressed to the hem of her wrap at the bottom of her sternum. He exhaled and the flush of his breath made her shiver. She was still enduring as confidently as she could, but she was losing composure fast. It was like he didn't care how many eyes were on them -for they were all on them- something which she was aware of. But then again, he never cared. Whenever they were together it was like they were the only two who existed. It was one of the things she'd come to love about him, to crave from him, and this current moment was no different.

Her eyes, in a moment of weakness, flickered away and inadvertently caught Roldan's. She blushed and looked away immediately.

Jareth, abandoned in his own little paradise, finally stood to his feet and took hold of both her hands. He kissed them one after the other, and took turns between each arm as he kissed up to her shoulders. He brushed stray hairs from her neck and kissed the spot where that boy's lips had touched her only moments ago, over the artery that was, this time, pulsing wildly. He inhaled her scent and hovered there. She smelled intoxicating, even without pheromones. Faint sweat, and flowers, and mead, and whatever was naturally her that bound it all together. Gods, he wanted to fuck her. He licked his lips and nipped at her, just slightly, taking pleasure in the way her body seized against her wishes.

He kissed the other side of her neck, then her cheeks and, finally, her forehead. Then, after what was, to Sarah and no one else, an achingly long process, he pulled away and blinked slowly, eager challenge darkening and sharpening his gaze.

"You honor me, My Queen," he spoke softly, so no others could hear, with a wry smile that she could not discern. His eyes lowered to her mouth. "I'd like to kiss you."

"You just were."

"I'd like to taste your lips-"

"I'd like to bite your tongue out." Oh. Where the hell did that come from? She actually recoiled from herself a little, surprised by her own lack of filter. Surprised, predominantly, because she was dead serious. Jareth, sensing her confusion, laughed.

"I'm sure you would," he said, holding back a bit of mischief at her expense. She wondered why the hell he looked so amused. And then she felt her ears start to tingle. "Have fun," he added, holding her stare as he moved away and went to stand back in his spot on the other side of the fire. Sarah scowled as she watched him. Asshole.

She stood with her hands on her hips, and looked over at the sound of Kodrun approaching with Marie in hand.

"He has great passion for you," Kodrun said, gesturing at Jareth with his chin. Sarah grumbled.

"Uh-huh," she replied, cursing him to trip and fall on his face as he greeted the three fae ladies who'd been waiting for him. Kodrun smiled to himself and took one of her hands. She followed as he led both her and Marie to a spot between the ring and the fire. She was now directly across from Jareth. With a lady on either side of him, they held his hands in the same poised manner she and Marie were holding Kodrun's. Other fae now moved in, those who had been sitting on the ground as they, apparently, waited for their cue. They crossed the threshold and formed a ring around the fire, in boy/girl order she noted. Markos had joined her at her right, and he offered her his hand as well.

"Are you ready to begin?" Kodrun asked. Sarah nibbled her lip.

"Um. I don't know what to do," she said. Kodrun laughed.

"Of course not," he said, cheerfully, and glanced at Mariella as well. "This is your first time at an Alvari fire. Rest easy, we shall teach you." The tone of his voice had Sarah inferring that he often taught his guests how to dance, which helped her feel like less of an outsider. She stood and waited for his instruction. "But first a prayer!" he said, and turned his head heavenward as he addressed the entire camp. He gripped Sarah and Marie's hands a little tighter as passion deepened his voice. "Tonight, my brothers, my sisters, tonight we celebrate!" he shouted, and the Alvari cheered. "In the name of Alvra! Our fire, our heart, burns bright! On this, the final night of Lughnasa, we welcome new friends! We join together in their love and their joy, as we sanctify their bond of marriage!" -Alvra be praised- the crowd chanted. Sarah flinched from the surprise of their combined tenor. "Alvra has brought us together on this auspicious night. We honor Alvra, and each other, and ourselves. We become one, bonded in fraternity, on this night and forever more. But this is not a trial! No! By Alvra! Tonight we are not constrained by the old ways of a year and a day! We have with us a solstice bond! Brought together on the longest, brightest day. A symbol of eternity. May their love fade only when that final sun sets. Praise to Alvra." -Alvra be praised-

Huh? A year and a day? Weird. What the heck did that mean? Regardless, it didn't seem to apply to her and Jareth…

"So, let us dance! Let us drink and be merry! Come, my friends, play us a song! It is time to begin!"

The fae who were not a part of the dancing circle clapped and cheered in encouragement. The band, which had been maintaining that same low drumbeat, now changed tunes with the addition of the other instruments. Naturally, it became more lively, but it was still slow and thrumming. The beat of the drum grounded the song. It sounded like a march, something that made you want to clap along in time with it.

Sarah glanced around the circle and saw the majority of the dancers were jittering with anticipation -all dressed and painted identical to her. She wondered exactly what kind of dance this was going to be. Jareth, despite holding hands with his molesters, was looking around absently as he stood perfectly reposed. He looked comfortable. Like he knew what to do. She really, really, wanted him to let go of their hands.

"First we will count the beat," Kodrun said, drawing Sarah's attention. She and Mariella looked up at him. "Close your eyes and feel it in the sand. Let it crawl up your toes and around your thighs. Let it fill you. Let yourself feel nothing but the drum."

Sarah's determination to prove herself shielded her from cringing at the lovely sexual innuendo Kodrun had just gifted her, though she knew he'd meant it sincerely. Exhaling through her nose, she closed her eyes and tried to do as he said. The tingle in her ears had turned to a pleasant, though oddly precise, heat -just as Kodrun had promised. She wondered what other effects the ring would have. Wondered what the hell Jareth really meant by encouraging one to do what they want to do. Seriously better not be another orgy...

With another exhale, she focused on the music. It sounded provocative and fun, with a low melody of woodwinds that bounced along the strong and steady beat of the drums. It made her feet fidgety. Like she wanted to dance. That was probably the point.

"Now," Kodrun continued, and held their hands a little higher. The rest of the dancers did the same. "We will start to the right. With a step, point, clap." Sarah, not knowing what a point was, stared at him confusedly. He led her and Marie as he demonstrated, forcing them to fumble (forcing Sarah to fumble anyway) as they participated alongside him. She stepped to the right; then, after observing Kodrun's feet, angled up her left knee and pointed the tip of her toe to the sand, then released her partner's hands and clapped. Afterwards, Kodrun and Markos clasped her hands once more. "Then, to the left. Step, step-twirl, clap." And now he tugged her to the left. She repeated the move, step, point, then released hands once again as they all twirled once, then clapped on point. Huh. Well that was easy. Oddly to Sarah, the entire circle moved in this fashion, even Jareth, mimicking her slow, slightly-out-of-time rhythm as they practiced.

"We repeat these steps moving clockwise," Kodrun explained, while simultaneously engaging them in it. Sarah executed the sequence flawlessly and gave herself a mental pat on the back (as if it was something any halfway coordinated person couldn't manage). "And now we add a bow instead of the final clap. Alternate this with the steps we just did."

And she did. Left step, clap. Right step, twirl, bow. She was a little surprised by the bow. At the end of the twirl, Kodrun and Markos had grabbed onto her hands, and thrust their arms back as the circle bowed as one.

"Easy, right?" Markos asked. Sarah looked over at him and smiled.

"Yeah. I'm surprised."

"This is the warm-up," Kodrun said, and shot her a playful eye. "The true dance is one of improvisation. We perform these moves and, as the dance wears on, cater them to our own desires."

"I don't think I understand."

"For instance-" Kodrun said and, just as they were about to execute another twirl, he suddenly took her by the waist and lifted her up. She 'eeped' and braced his arms as he spun them, and then placed her down on the opposite side. He released her, and clapped. "See? There was still a twirl, but I altered it to fit my preference."

Sarah, still a little dazzled by being lifted so effortlessly by such a tall man, blinked back at Mariella, who was now standing at her side.

"Hello," she said, giddily, and twittered her fingers at her. Sarah laughed and clasped her hand.

"So we can switch partners?" Sarah asked, resuming the steps with Marie as her new partner and with Kodrun at her right.

"Yes. It's encouraged. Though, at your own discretion."

Step, clap. Step, twirl, clap.

"I see...I think I got it."

"The dance is meant to devolve in time," he added, moving so gracefully he gave even the simplest of moves beguiling nuance. "-as we become more comfortable with expressing ourselves. As we come to trust in our partners. We simply move as we please. Eventually, there will be no steps at all. Only rhythm." She didn't quite understand what he meant by that. But, before she could ask, he smiled and winked. "This dance is for you, Sarah. Enjoy it," he said, just before locking arms with Markos and trading spots via twirl. Sarah smiled and took up Markos' hand once again. He smiled back, and bowed his head.

Their dance carried on in that same simplistic fashion for a short while as Sarah worked up the confidence to push herself. It seemed that the rest of the dancers were following her cue, which she wasn't sure she liked. It put her under a bit of unnecessary pressure. She hardly knew anything about dancing. Only what Roldan had taught her, and that knowledge was geared very specifically for a formal waltz. She kept Marie as her primary partner for a time, until finally taking the leap and passing herself onto the next fae.

She was startled when every other dancer traded partners as well.

The circle shifted. Churning as the steps carried them one way, but the change in parter another. They all twirled in time, their skirts or their tunics flaring out in fleeting blooms of red. She took the hand of her new partners, two caramel colored men with matching smiles, and nodded her head to them each respectfully. They stepped, clapped, twirled, and bowed together. And then...something fun happened.

She went to twirl, and had lifted her arms up in the air as she did so. She didn't think anything of it, but they were both suddenly clasped by one of her partners who tugged and then turned them together in such a way that she found her back was suddenly pressed against his with their arms locked above their heads. She faced a new partner now, presented like an offering of sorts -though she was not accepted.

The next round of the sequence began, and Sarah stared outward in alarm as the man holding her to his back carried her with him. He stepped forward. She stepped back. He, with his hands firmly guiding hers, clapped. He stepped backward. She stepped forward. And, in a very fast, fluid movement, untangled their arms and spun her away from him and into the care of the next partner. She hit the man's chest the exact moment the rest of the circle clapped.

She gasped a little and caught her breath. That was a little exciting. She had no idea what the hell she was doing. Because of the rotation, it was ensured that Sarah's partners would always be male, and she wondered if she had the ability to break from it. Especially considering that had also meant all of Jareth's partners would be women. Speaking of Jareth…

She peered around and tried to find him. Theoretically, she should be coming closer and closer every time she switched partners. By some method, however, this did not happen. She spotted him directly across from her, currently focused on lifting and twirling a very giggly fae lady. She narrowed her eyes at the spot where his hands gripped her bare hips. Not that she had any room to judge him. She was being touched just the same.

With a sense of obstination, she thought it was time to kick things up a notch.

She closed her eyes and rolled her head as she twirled. The sand on her feet was both warm and cool, and made nice swishing sounds as they all moved in tandem. Her partner caught her hand and kept her twirling, moving her around him onto the left side. But then she tripped. Or maybe not. Maybe the way she'd stumbled back into him was completely intentional. It didn't matter. At least not at the moment. He caught her by the hips as she pressed back against his torso, and she was acutely aware of the heat in her ears as she then rolled those hips back against his groin.

She began to lower, and he lowered with her. His head bent forward towards the crook of her neck, and she lifted her arms high above his head. Clap.

She rocked her hips in his hands as they came to stand, and then she twirled away from him. She faced a new partner, who had just released his own onto another, and stared at him for a moment before starting the next sequence.

The dance is meant to devolve, Kodrun had said. Devolve...why did that word tingle on her tongue? She felt...different, all of the sudden. More awake, and passionate, and bold. Was this the work of the faerie ring? Jareth was right, there was no stupor. Her senses were not impared in the slightest. If anything, they were sharper. She felt sharper. Dangerous. Powerful.

She faced her partner with her hands still pointed in the air, and engaged him without ever coming near. She stepped backward and clapped. He stepped forward and clapped. They were within an arms' reach of one another, but neither made move to close that gap. She took a step forward. He took a step back. She twirled. He did not.

When she landed, he was right in front of her. Something which startled her, but her gasp was concealed by the sound of his clap, held just above her head. She looked into his eyes. They were a dark brown with bright golden shards. She licked her lips as she thought of Jareth. As she wondered if he was paying any attention to her. Maybe she should provoke him a little more.

She placed her hands on the raised arms of her partner, and gradually trailed them down to his torso as she moved her body. She moved in a serpent-like motion, all hip and waist and rolling shoulder, and let her eyes flutter dangerously on that strange beautiful man. She took her hands from him and stepped away, keeping in time with the music, but otherwise disregarded the sequence entirely as she danced like the gypsy she was dressed to be.

She spun around and arched her head, which cast out her long, braided hair in a dramatic, whip-like motion. She turned and she turned and she turned, until she was caught by a pair of strong hands who lifted her high and turned her for her. The man, indiscernible from any of the others, released her and let the momentum slide her body down his, before catching her just before she could hit the ground. She found, in that split-second movement, that her hands had instinctively wrapped around his neck for balance. One leg braced between his, while he held the other bent sharply to his hip. He was crouched forward. One hand gripped the base of her thigh tightly while the other supported her back, and his curly, black locks fell downward and tickled her face. She looked winded, and blinked up at him nervously. The man smiled, readjusted his grip on her body, and then thrust her forward, sending her flying backwards through the air for another pair of hands to capture.

She was caught by the waist and spun deftly. With her back to him, the faceless stranger lowered her to her feet and pulled her back against his body. He guided her, and ground her against him in a dance that she was more familiar with. She could still hear rhythmic claps every now and again, but the sound was growing fainter and fainter as more couples followed her lead and devolved.

She felt the beat of the drum vibrating the sand, felt it climbing up her thighs and ringing her ears, and gave in.

Roldan stared in silence at the myriad dancers who spun in and out of his view. He was no longer alone, technically. A few Alvari had since joined him on the log, but none were paying him any attention. That was fine. He was too distracted to carry on a conversation anyway.

It had started out innocently enough. She was so awkward, so nervous, he wondered if the dance would ever start at all. She was the bride, which meant she controlled the level of revelry that ensued. He should have known better after the way he'd seen her dance in Davion's court…

She was a natural. Her body's instinctive response to the music was carnal and shameless. It was graceful and eye-catching and…

And it didn't help that she was practically naked. Every other woman was dressed exactly as she, and yet every time Roldan looked up, his eyes pointed her out immediately. He'd crossed his arms and turned his head in another direction. This was stupid. He'd done well rationalizing his urges over the last couple weeks, and honestly the shame of his indiscretion hardly bothered him anymore. But seeing her breathless and sweating, devastatingly close to nude, and moving around like an Ognioux concubine, was hard to ignore. At one point, she'd crossed directly in front of him, falling in the arms of a sweaty Alvari boy, as she laughed and licked her teeth. She'd pushed herself away from him and swayed her hips provocatively as she recovered. He didn't think she'd even noticed he was sitting within two feet of her, staring up hopelessly and with panic. She was soon to dance away however, and he shriveled in his spot.

Without signal, it seemed a new phase of the dance had begun. The transition was seamless, was carried on by the passion in her step and the thump in her chest. Sometimes she had a partner, but mostly she danced on her own, moving about without inhibition just like the dancers she'd watched when they'd first arrived. She didn't care if anyone watched. Didn't care if she tripped or stumbled -which she did, multiple times. They were always there to catch her. Always there to hold her and twirl her on with a smile. This must have been what Kodrun meant. About being comfortable and trusting in one another. The heat in her ears now extended to her nose, and she felt so wild and free she imagined her spirit could burst forth from her meek human shell at any given moment. She wanted to fly. She wanted to scream. She wanted to keep on dancing until her toes turned to dust.

Alvari fae boys and girls had touched her in many ways. Which, from time to time, had her wondering if those same hands had been touching her husband as well. Or, more importantly, if his were touching them.

She'd done her best to be naughty. Gone as far as she was capable of in the effort to trigger his jealousy. It didn't seem to be working though, which was annoying. They had not yet crossed paths, which meant to her that he did not want them to. After subjecting herself to much manhhandling, she finally gave in to the insecurity and tried to spy on him again. His placement was no longer across from her, but off to the side, which made him more difficult to scrutinize.

With that said, what she did see was more than enough.

It was hot by the fire, and they were all moving quite vigorously, so it was no surprise that he was covered in sweat. The red clay stripes he'd been painted with were melting and dripping down his chest and arms, and hair that had fallen loose from his braid now stuck to his face. His attention was focused on his partner, a petite brunette with freckles so heavy they could be counted from even at Sarah's distance. She looked breathless, and moved in a way that feigned fatigue. Jareth's hands were on her. One arm was wrapped tightly around her waist and the other locked her knee to his hip before she threw herself back. Her spine curled until her head touched the ground, and she clawed her hands through the sand as he stared down the length of her. His mouth was close enough to her stomach that he could have kissed it just then. He did not. But from the intent look she regarded in his eye, it no longer mattered if he did.

It was an odd flow of consciousness, feeling, on one hand, freed in spirit, and on the other, completely and totally enraged.

The emotion hit her so abruptly she nearly choked on it. It overtook her. Churned her stomach. Sent her head spinning. She very nearly broke from the dance to storm over and murder him with her fists while he was still distracted.

And yet she didn't. She didn't because this was her dance. Because she was The Queen. And she had far too much pride. Forsaking that arrogant, stupid, insufferable, lecherous, perverted, unforgiveable cunt they called King, Sarah took a very deep breath and cleared her mind.

The dance progressed much more smoothly after that.

She'd found some lady partners, whom she was more comfortable with, and had really cut loose. She touched them in daring ways, urged their touch to be even more so. She heard herself panting, and accentuated it, playing off little moans as soft, nimble fingers, traced the rim of her belly button.

She was angry. Deep down, she was still seething with jealousy. But she called upon every ounce of strength she had to smother it. To turn it to spite. To be wicked and wanton and free.

It was surprisingly easy. Maybe it was the faerie ring enabling her. Regardless, when she felt a hand placed high on her inner thigh, pushing the fabric of her skirt between her legs, she parted them wide as they both lowered to the ground.

She was too distracted, and had not enough care, to bother spying on Jareth anymore. She'd peer over here or there, give him the effort of a slanted side-eye. But really, she had more important things to do -like dance. She tried to convince herself of this, at least. Ignoring the fact that with every touch, with every flutter, with every less-than-innocent flirt, she hoped with all of her being that he was watching, and was broiling, and feeling just as slighted as she.

Her eyes were closed as she twirled away. And then, as she knocked ankles and stumbled, she opened them in a panic and was suddenly jerked upright by a hand that had clamped around her arm. It twirled her in the opposite direction, and she landed with an "oof" flat against Jareth.

"Are you about finished?" he asked, his voice a little terse. It was low, but not quite angry, and Sarah found herself gaping up at him in surprise.

"Excuse me?" she asked, curling her fingers against his slick bare chest as she pushed off of him. He did not allow it, and only angled her arm so she was forced to face away from him instead. He bent it sharply behind her back, and pressed his free hand across her stomach, pushing her against him, and forced her to move along with the beat.

"This act of yours," he growled, and constricted her wrist behind her back as he pressed her ass into his pelvis. Despite her anger towards him, her body submitted and her hips churned. "As amusing as this has been, I fear I'm about at my limit."

She felt his fingers flex, dig into the flesh of her stomach, and she pushed her ass against him harder. She could feel the pressure of his cock throb in response. The sensation thrilled her.

"Amusing? You think this is amusing, Jareth?" she asked, with deep offense, and whipped around as if to try and smack him in the face. He caught her free arm and jerked her into place, wrapped them both around his neck, and then released one to pull up one of her knees.

"I think you've been playing a dangerous game," he said, with warning, and promise, and something too dark and too nasty for her to handle right now. She felt hot. On fucking fire. She wanted to beat him and fuck him at the same time. She stared into his eyes with a deep, thoroughly bothered pout on her face.

"You're the one who's been playing. You fucking bastard."

Before she knew it, Sarah felt herself thrust backward. She hit something hard, something wooden, and she realized Jareth had teleported them out of the circle. They were now standing in darkness, against a caravan, a good fifty feet from the fire and well out of sight. She gasped, trying to orient herself, and then Jareth's mouth came down brutally over her own.

She felt his hands claw around her face and squeeze as he forced his way in. She murmured in protest and recoiled, but he would not be rejected and bit her in response. She cried out and opened her mouth, and his tongue delved aggressively inside. She met it and kissed him back. Wincing, and whimpering, and undulating her body against the wall of the carriage as they devoured each other. She was so angry with him. So turned on. Her legs spread and her cunt ached to be fucked by him. Her hands were holding his wrists, and her chest heaved in the simple effort to be closer.

He bit down on her lip and tugged as he pulled away, and she breathed laboriously with heavy, glazed eyes.

"I've had enough of your game, sweet thing," he rumbled, sounding hoarse, and exhausted, and impatient. Sarah scowled at him, confused and still offended.

"My game? You've got some nerve," she said, and tried shoving him away. Jareth sneered, rising to the challenge, and pushed her roughly against the carriage.

"Indeed. Your provocations have them quite riled," he said, and ran his nose over hers haughtily. "Is this what you wanted? My undivided attention?" His hands lowered down her body and so did his eyes. He leaned half a step away to regard her, and his question was answered by the way she kept herself pressed against the wall, without restraint, while he did so.

"What I wanted was for you to get your fucking hands and your fucking eyes off all those women," she snarled, without a shred of caution towards her vocabulary. Seriously, it was like her filter had just vanished. She held nothing back. Her ears were so hot they were starting to hurt. "Do you know how long I watched you slut around and make a fool of me? I swear I'll-"

"Yes. Yes I do," he cut her off, and jerked on her hips as he kissed her again. She put up less of a fight this time, and held up her arms submissively -which he was quick to take hold of. His grip twisted around her wrists but was not painful, and he pushed himself against her as they both moaned. "You should know by now you have my attention. -All of it. -Always," he said, thrusting his tongue around her teeth between each utterance. The sound of Sarah's breathing rose higher, and she curled a leg around his hip as she stood on tiptoe.

"Really? That means you knew what you were doing-"

"Yes," he breathed, and released her hands to hold her jaw instead, his composure slipping as his kiss gained passion. "I did it to spite you, after all."

The whirlwind of Sarah's arousal stuttered to a screeching halt. She stopped kissing him and pulled away.

"What-"

"Of course I knew you were watching. Do you honestly think I give a fuck about any woman who isn't you? I touched them because I knew it would vex you. I knew it would provoke you and-"

"Are you serious? You fucking asshole!" Sarah cut him off, shoving him away with a force he was not expecting and then punched him hard in the gut. Jareth grunted and keeled over, holding his abdominals with one hand and keeping Sarah caged against the carriage with the other. Her chest puffed up and down with outrage and impulse, and then she realized what she'd done. In the brief moment he took to recover, Sarah found herself recoiling against the wall with fright. She'd punched him. She'd just punched Jareth. Why did she do that? Fuck.

To both Sarah's shock and confused horror, Jareth turned his head up to her with a wicked little grin.

"That's my girl," he said, with a strained sense of amusement. He huffed and straightened himself up. "Would you like to do that again?"

Sarah blinked and stood dumbly. He looked wildly excited. Like he wanted her to hit him again. She was not expecting that. Not at fucking all.

"What?" she asked. Jareth's grin stretched and he placed both his forearms flat on the carriage wall. He was looking a little winded, and sagged his body against her. He leaned in close and brought his lips a hair's breadth from her ear.

"The faerie ring brings out the primal side in us. Makes us bold. Makes us take the things that we want. You wanted to hit me just now, so you did," he explained, a rationalization that, combined with the tingle of his breath, sent a shiver down her spine. "Your possessiveness turns me on. I wanted to see how far you could be pushed. Just how badly you want me all to yourself," he whispered, seductively, and dragged his hands down the wood. Sarah gulped and turned her head to the side, trying her best to see the truth on his face for herself in all this darkness. "So go ahead. Punish me. Show me I am yours."

"I...I'm not going to hit you, Jareth," she said, still hesitant to believe he wasn't angry she'd struck him. But he looked down right feral. He looked patient, and relaxed, and terribly shameless.

"Ah, but you want to."

"I'd like to murder you, if I'm being honest," she snapped, and again was struck by how much she really meant it. Her words, they tumbled out of her mouth so quickly and with such conviction, it was actually alarming.

"I don't doubt it," Jareth said, smiling to himself in the dark. "The ring frees us from self-constraints. Makes us impulsive. Makes us honest. We do as we please within the ring. And the things I watched you do, were very pleasing." He turned his head towards her and kissed her. It was sweet, and it was consuming, and he closed his eyes as he pushed his body as close to hers as possible. "But it was too much to take," he mumbled against her lips. "Seeing you like that…watching you forget all about me…" The cool, seductive tone of his voice had its way with her. She felt herself going lax against the carriage wall, and her eyes were just barely open. She'd been hesitant to touch him, but now lifted her hands into his hair and held him as he kissed her. "So...what will you do with me, Sarah? I've been terribly insolent tonight. Surely the Queen of Goblins won't stand for such things."

He'd pulled away to stare her in the eye while he spoke, and she could see a very faint glimmer over the dusted blue of his irises. The sides of their noses pressed together, and she gulped.

"You want me to punish you?"

She now knew how the faerie ring had affected her inhibitions, but what was it doing to Jareth? He'd never provoked her like this before. He'd teased, but never before asked her for such dangerous roleplay. His shoulders were haunched towards her and she felt the tips of his fingers lightly poking into her hair. He was being so patient -but he wouldn't be for much longer. His eyes lowered, blinked slowly, and then rose back to hers.

"Need I beg?"

Oh. That tone. That sudden drop in tenor. It had her stomach jumping and a rock forming in her throat. The look in his eye was sharper, challenging, something that simply could not be refused. She rolled her lower lip over her teeth and then bit it.

"Yes," she said, with wide, excited eyes, as she reached out and ran her hands down his chest. He shifted on one foot, but otherwise stood perfectly still. The tips of her fingers trailed downward of his navel and tugged on the waist of his pants.

"Make me yours," he said -not exactly the submissive request she desired- and then lowered his lips to her neck to ghost the next words across her skin... "Make me writhe. Make me feel nothing but you."

Sarah shivered and breathed in unevenly. Her fingers were pausing at the laces tying the fly of his pants, and then pulled the little bow loose in an instant.

"Keep your hands against the wagon," she commanded, and hooked a finger under the laces to tug them open. "-and don't you dare move them." She heard him exhale through his nose, and the faint scrape of his nails against the wooden planks as his fingers curled. She opened the fly of his pants and reached her hand inside. She squeezed the base of his cock and it flexed in her hand. She pushed her tight fist down, and then turned her head to his ear to whisper her own sweet seduction. "Now...tell me all the things you wish you could do."

She started jerking him off, drawing out his length with each movement, and he pulsed and hardened, and fidgeted in place. He made a low noise in the back of his throat, and fought the urge to thrust his hips into her hand.

"I'd like to grab a hold of your ass and spread your legs so I can eat your sweet little cunt. Spread you with my tongue and have your cum dripping down my throat like honey. I'd like to slam you against this cart and fuck you 'til you scream-" and he gasped when she started jerking faster. "-'Til you cry. 'Til you're bruised and marked by me in a million wicked ways. I want to be inside you. To thrust, and fuck, and pump you full of my cum. I want to turn you around and hold your tight ass in my hands while I fuck it 'til dawn. No woman has ever driven me so mad. No creature has made me want so pitifully."

His voice was harsh, laced with a growl, and carried on a single laboured breath as he closed his eyes and focused on all he was imagining. He was like an iron rod in her hand; she felt her mouth watering and her thighs quivering in the wake of such words. The way he obeyed her so readily was erotic, was enticing, was a power she weilded too well. She licked her lips and tried to compose herself.

"Bold words," she said, breathily. "-but you really expect me to believe you felt nothing when you touched, and were touched by, all those beautiful women?" She kept her words as even as possible, needing to maintain control. This was going to be his punishment after all, whether he still realized it or not. He cracked a grin and rested his forehead against her shoulder.

"Did you feel nothing when you touched, and were touched by, those men?...and women?"

"I wasn't paying much attention," she said, looking up in the sky as she mentally combated the pressure building in her groin. It would be too easy to hook her leg around his hip and fuck him. Too easy to take what she wanted. God, he was hard. The subtle rocking of his hips proved a near overwhelming temptation. Her breathing was getting heavier too, turning into soft little pants.

"Neither was I."

"You have a better poker face than I do then."

His hands dragged a little further down the wall, but kept themselves secured. He was getting antsy, and lightly bit her shoulder in the effort to contain himself.

"I've had more practice."

"Not helping-" she said, sharply, and tried to glare at him from her peripheral. He ran his tongue along her shoulder, and nipped at her again.

"I want to kiss you."

"I don't care."

Ignoring his groan of frustration, Sarah sank to her knees and pulled his cock free. Jareth, closing his eyes in resignment, thumped his forehead against the side of the carriage.

Sarah continued to jerk him off, though she now moved her hand slowly and inspected his form. She brought her mouth close, letting him feel the heat of her breath. A bead of precum formed on the tip from sheer anticipation, so she decided to let him suffer a little more. She angled his cock to the side, and lightly dotted her tongue along the base.

He moaned, as if the sound were pulled from his lungs, and he had to readjust his feet in the sand. She massaged a spot beneath the head with her thumb, and traced the tip of her tongue up the length of him teasingly.

If anyone saw them, she didn't care.

Jareth's hands fisted against the carriage and he nearly growled from the immense effort it took him to obey her command. She was being such a cocktease. Literally. Making him wait what felt like so long between each minor caress. He wanted her to engulf him, to stare up at him while he sank himself deep into her throat.

Her kisses and her licks traveled around his shaft, becoming wetter and more firm each time. He kept flexing in her hand, and her thumb was now slick with his fluids. She sucked on the side of his shaft and curled her tongue around it.

"Do you want me to suck on you, Jareth?" she asked. He thumped his forehead again.

"Yes…"

She smiled and licked all around the head, then pulled him into her mouth -just an inch- before pulling away. The way he sharply exhaled was empowering.

"Do you want me to fuck you with my mouth? To let you come and then swallow it down?" She moved her hand lower and started to pump him again, letting him rest on her tongue as she faintly sucked on the head. Jareth cast his head back and gulped.

"Fuck- Yes-" he bit out, forming a tension in his arms as he tried not to punch a hole through the fucking wood. Sarah smiled.

"Are you sorry for being such a slut?"

And then he smiled too. He couldn't help it. He was breathing heavily, licking his lips and imaging how fucking glorious coming in her was going to be.

"Yes, My Queen," he said, exasperatedly. Sarah sucked him in a little deeper, and he shuddered.

"Good...now...tell me why." She pulled him into her mouth deeper and deeper between those words, and his cock throbbed in her mouth in agony. He slouched a little, nearing the edge where he would actually beg her for mercy -and then she gave it to him.

She moved her hand to the base of his shaft and held him in place as she took as much of him into her mouth as possible. She hollowed her cheeks, and sucked strongly as she pulled back. He gasped, moaned, shot a jolt of cum onto her tongue and nearly buckled over her. She did not stop. She took him aggressively -a mercy he now regretted wanting. He indulged himself for a minute, and then, when her torturous pleasures began to cease, remembered she had given him another command.

"You are my Queen. And I, your slave. My body is yours to pleasure and be pleasured by. I brought you disgrace by entertaining the affections of others. Others who could never, ever, even remotely compare to you."

She slowed her rhythm as he spoke, and stared up at him curiously.

"Go on…"

"Gods- those women are like sandpaper," he said, quickly, forcing the words passed gritted teeth as her tongue and her teeth did something to him more stimulating than expected. His whole body jerked, and he groaned. Then, after finding his bearings once more, he carried on. "-They are like decrepit husks. Their laughter grates me like nails and their smell is dull and repulsive. You are so fucking soft, and hot, and wet." He gave in and thrust into her mouth with each word. "You are gorgeous, and alluring, and wickedly cruel. Your cunt and your mouth are places I would happily die in. You are the only thing that gets me hard anymore. The only thing that I want to- Ah-fuck-yes-" He lost focus and one of his arms nearly fell slack. A tension moved through his body that Sarah recognized all too well. He was getting close. Very close. She imagined his face twisted in frustration as he muttered her name.

Having developed an extra sense for the exact moment Jareth would orgasm, Sarah pulled her hands and mouth away from him immediately, and then shoved his raging erection back into his pants. He gasped, and jerked from the pain such a movement caused. She stood, nearly shoving him out of her way, and stared him dead in the eye. His chest was heaving, his mouth open as he struggled to breathe. His eyes on her were livid. Like he was ready to pounce. Like he would murder her.

She arched a brow at him arrogantly.

"As if," she said, and reached out to flick him hard on the chest. Before he could react, she ducked under his arm and then patted him on the back. "Have fun dealing with that. Bye." And then she ran away. Literally. With a pretentious skip. She ran off, and back to the party, as fast as she could.

Jareth just stood there. Petrified. In pain. Beside himself and violently aroused. He was so discombobulated, he did not even try to stop her. Fucking minx. Fucking cockteasing harlot. Fuck, he wanted to come.

Roldan was sitting in his same old spot, sipping on his same old drink, by his same old self, when, suddenly, a very animated and out of breath Sarah jumped over the log and sat down beside him.

"Phew-" she said, to herself it seemed, as she glanced behind her like something had been chasing her. Roldan, surprised, looked at her, the darkness, then back again, and blinked.

"Um…"

"Oh, hey," she said, panting to catch her breath, and turned to acknowledge him with a wide smile. "What's up?"

Roldan, feeling oddly disconcerted, gripped his cup a little tighter and darted his eyes away.

"You've caught me off guard. I thought you were still in the dance," he said, eyeing said ring. Sarah exhaled through her nose and gripped the log as she leaned forward.

"Oh. No. We left a little while ago," she said, leaning back on her hands and crossing her legs. The adjustment trapped what little fabric that covered her groin tightly between her thighs. Roldan's eyes fixated there for all of one second, and then glared away.

"I see...Where is Jareth then?" he asked, trying to deflect. Sarah tensed at the mention of his name and peered back into the shadows.

"Um...I don't know," she said, and gave him a smug little shrug. "Probably in the field somewhere...taking care of some things." She snickered to herself and he eyed her strangely. She was staring out at the fire, in profile, with a very wry curl of the lips. The red clay on her cheeks had melted and been smeared, emulating a very trashy rouge. He was foolish to gander for so long, for any amount of time at all. It left him ignorant to the strange state of anxiety that had her turning abruptly towards him and leaning in close to his face. "Hey-" she said, and he flinched back. "Do you want to dance?"

She was feeling a little terrified of whatever retribution Jareth might seek on her in only a moment or two, so was eager to find herself both a distraction and a shield as soon as possible. Roldan would do.

"What?" Roldan asked, like an idiot. The energy in Sarah's expression was unnerving him, and so was the pronounced curve of her hip from the way she was angling herself towards him.

"Come dance with me," she said, goodnaturedly, and reached for his hands. His clasped around hers instinctively, but she only plopped back into place when he failed to move at all.

"I don't think so," he said, and awkwardly glanced over the crowd of dancers. "Not really my thing, if you couldn't tell."

Sarah pursed her lips and let go of his hands. So he was extra determined on being a grump tonight, was he? Good thing she was the motherfucking Queen.

"You know, you and Jareth act like you hate everyone but I don't think that's true at all," she said, and tilted her head as she eyed him. Roldan frowned.

"Oh?"

"No. I think you're just a couple of introverts. But all you need is a little push."

It was probably the faerie ring making her bold, but at the moment the cause didn't matter. Roldan had been sitting all alone like a sad sack the entire night. She would no longer stand for it. She told herself this was her new mission -thoughts that she forced to take precedence over wondering where the hell Jareth was, what he was doing, what he was planning, whether he'd used a King's discipline to soothe his blue balls, or was currently fiercely jerking off into the grass.

Roldan was scowling at her and did not look at all pleased. Sarah scoffed at him and shoved him in the shoulder.

"It's been decided. So come on. Take off your clothes."

Roldan looked around and blinked dumbly.

"What?"

"Your shirt? Your shoes? Here, we'll start with your gloves-" and she reached out and grabbed one of his hands. She pulled on one finger and he roughly jerked away.

"Are you serious?" he asked, sounding ornery but it did not phase her. Riding the power high Jareth had given her, Sarah squared her shoulders and looked down her nose at him.

"Deadly. As Queen, I'm ordering you to get naked. Now."

To her, in her current mental condition, such words were hilarious. Not to Roldan however. To Roldan it was as if he'd been condemned to death. He stared at her pitifully for a moment, and then, with a clenched jaw, began pulling off his gloves. Where the fuck was Jareth?

His gloves came off, and Sarah reached out to unbutton his jacket-

"I can do it-" Roldan snapped, actually shooing her away as if her touch would somehow contaminate him. Sarah pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Geez. He was more uptight than she was.

"Fine, fine," she said, facetiously, and raised her hands in defeat. She looked away, waited a dreadfully boring three and a half seconds, and then moved to the ground and tried unzipping one of his boots.

"Stop."

Against his better judgement, Roldan commanded her, sternly, and she listened. Her hands, which had been holding onto his left leg, held themselves suspended as she looked up at him.

"What is the big deal? I'm just helping you along-"

"You are the Queen," he snapped. Sarah sat back on her heels. Roldan, looking uncomfortable on a number of levels, shifted away from her and averted his gaze. "You should not prostrate yourself before me-before anyone of lower station. Ever."

Not appreciating his condescending tone, Sarah stood to her feet and placed her hands firmly on her hips.

"Fine," she said, and exuded a sudden air of authority. "I won't touch you. Since you prefer it, I will stand here and watch."

Roldan did not react right away. He just stared at her -like someone would pinch him and wake him up at any minute. Goddamn faerie ring. Sarah was stubborn and bullheaded by nature, of course its influence would turn her into a tyrannical little tart. She stood tall over him, offering him full view of her shapely figure still shining with sweat-

His head angled down, but his gaze remained spitefully on hers, as he finished shrugging out of his jacket. He couldn't believe this. It was degrading. To have to obey her commands like this…

He set his jacket beside him over the log, and begrudgingly removed his boots and socks. Knowing she would probably order it anyway, he also rolled his pant legs up to his knees -properly.

With a very satisfied curl of the lips, Sarah took half a step back.

"Stand up," she ordered, and he did. She raised one of her hands and placed an index finger to the well of her throat. "Now, unbutton your shirt….to here," she said, and trailed her finger down to the bottom of her sternum. Oh, the fun he imagined she must be having at his expense. He wanted to growl, but no sound came. He only did as she bid. He unclasped the first three buttons, and then lowered his arms back to his sides. With her hands back on her hips, Sarah stepped towards him and stared him up and down. It was a power play that reminded him far too much of her husband. Where the hell was he, anyway?

He flinched but did not stop her when she reached out and started pulling the hem of his shirt from his pants.

"Now, take it off."

While it was she who was staring up at him, Roldan had never felt smaller. He inhaled through his nose and stood off against her well-steeled expression. Yes, the ring had gifted her confidence and conviction, and there was no way she would back down. He reached for the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. He turned back and tossed it atop his jacket, then held out his hands to her with an irritated shrug.

"Happy?"

Sarah's eyes flickered down his chest, then she looked over her own stomach and wiped two fingers through the gooey, red clay.

"As my dear friend Becky would say…" she started, and drew marks below his clavicles and over his arms that matched hers. "If you've got it, flaunt it." She placed two diagonal dashes down by his hips, and then stepped back. She placed her hands back on her hips and looked over her handiwork. She didn't bother marking the rest of him. She figured he'd been tortured enough.

"Got what?" he asked. Sarah, staring blatantly over his finely carved physique, broke into laughter and then turned away.

"Oh my God, you're so dense," she said, and then grabbed one of his hands. "Come on already. I'll be damned if you don't have a good time."

She dragged him behind her as they entered the faerie ring, and wove them seamlessly into the foray of dancers. The circle was not turning very quickly, but it was turning, so Sarah kept hold of his hand while she pranced, and skipped, and twirled into groove.

Roldan scowled and stumbled behind her. This really was not his strong suit. She looked perfectly carefree as she smiled and bounded, her skirt fluttering high and her braid whipping around her. He didn't know what to do. At least a waltz had order. She turned back towards him and skipped in reverse.

"Well? You just going to walk behind me?" she asked, teasingly, and hopped forward to surprise him by assuming a waltzing stance. "Come on. I know you can move. Let loose a little. It won't kill you," she said, and took the lead by dramatically swaying her hips and turning them about in a circle. Roldan did not dare touch her any more than necessary, and stared down at her with a frown.

"I'm not the type of person who lets loose," he said, moving along with her awkwardly and trying so damn hard not to stumble into her. She was not watching her form at all, and was just throwing them about in a circular motion.

"I know. I don't think I am either, but here we are." She rolled her eyes and shrugged. The atmosphere was definitely getting to her, perhaps more strongly now that she knew what was happening and had ceased fighting it. She felt whimsical. Free. It was a happy state of mind. She just didn't care. He did not respond and only continued to frown at her. Refusing to let him ruin the mood, she inhaled sharply and turned herself away from him. She pressed back against his torso and held her hands over his, elevating them above her head. Clap.

"What are you-"

"Here, I'll make you a deal," she said, knowing he was feeling awkward enough to follow her lead without question as she rolled her hips into him and took a step back. He nearly tripped in the effort to avoid making contact with her. She laughed to herself. "If you can give me one honest hip roll, I will stop peer-pressuring you." She secured his hands to her hips, pointed her toe, and clapped.

He did not respond. Did not move at all. She did, however, feel his hands flex on her hips. She peered back over her shoulder at him, and grinned.

"Well? You up for the challenge?"

Roldan glowered as if this was the most horrible situation he could ever possibly be in. For a moment she considered taking offense against such an expression, but decided it didn't matter. She started to dance without him, swaying about and moving her body like he wasn't there at all. She placed her hands over his, making sure he felt good and uncomfortable, and then turned herself back just slightly.

"I'm still waiting."

Roldan, surprised by his own level of conviction, stared down at her with a tightly clenched jaw.

"I'm not going to do that."

She puckered her lips and frowned at him, then narrowed her eyes and huffed.

"Fine. Party-pooper. Maybe you'll have better luck with them," she said and, before he could properly brace himself, she locked down on one of his hands, jerked them both forward and side-stepped so he stumbled past her. She made it into a very clumsy kind of twirl, and cast him off onto the next partner.

A pretty fae lady caught his hand, not yet knowing what a terrible dancer he would be, and pulled him in close. He glared down at the woman just as he had Sarah, and held onto her just as awkwardly. Well, at least it wasn't just her then. Thoroughly pleased with herself, she laughed at him one last time, and then skipped out of line and over to Mariella.

She caught Marie's hand as she was twirled away, and the spritely little nymph squealed with delight.

"There you are!" she said, taking up Sarah's hands effortlessly and twirling them this way and that. Sarah smiled and laughed, and enjoyed the vertigo it gave her.

"Are you having fun?" Sarah asked. Mariella's smile was so wide it would probably be stuck like that.

"Tremendously. I am so glad we came," she said, holding the tips of Sarah's fingers high in the air as she twirled her under her arm.

"Yeah. They seem like good people. I like them." And then, while it was still fresh in her mind, she wrapped up Marie in another mock-waltz. "Did you see? I even got Roldan to join," she said, mischievously, and darted her eyes over in his direction. Mariella's brow rose very high, and she chuckled.

"Oh. Oh my gods, you didn't. How?" she asked, trying to restrain herself as she watched him stiffly endure one exceptionally fervid woman after another.

"I ordered him. On pain of death -naturally."

Sarah pointed her nose in the air and bobbed her head pretentiously. Mariella made a little O with her mouth.

"My, you are wicked. I suppose I ought to make my way over to him now."

"Oh geez. Are you still on that?" Sarah asked, and shook her head in amusement. "Playing the long game here, aren't you?" she added. Mariella bit her tongue.

"Oh, I simply haven't made up my mind. I'm enjoying my musings well enough as it is. I think I'd rather tease him for now." -Which was something Sarah understood very well. When it came to an exposed feminine ankle, Roldan was more awkward than a sexually enlightened eighth-grader. Jareth was right. It was just too easy sometimes.

Oh. Speaking of Jareth…

He'd been gone an awfully long while, hadn't he? Just what the fuck was he doing out there…

Sarah squeaked when she was suddenly torn away from Marie and out of the dancing circle entirely. She was pulled on the side of the fire, and fumbled in the sand as she landed on Jareth.

"Good evening, love," he said, oh-so-cheerfully. Sarah stared up at him, looking all frenzied and frightened. He gave her a shit-eating grin. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

Sarah blinked and licked her lips. He didn't look murderous. That was good. Maybe.

"Um, yes. Where have you been? You feeling alright?" she asked, tentatively. Jareth laughed and straightened her up.

"Why shouldn't I be?" he countered. Sarah's stare on him twitched. Was he...should she call his bluff? "You look thirsty, darling. Here, I've brought you a drink," he continued and forced a cup into her hands. Sarah eyed him suspiciously.

"You seem a little too chipper to be trusted right now," she said. His grin curled on one side. He'd produced a drink of his own, and she watched him snicker into his cup as he drank. "Something tells me it would be better to start running again," she added. Jareth took a deep breath through his nose and turned his attention back to her.

"Oh, please do. I would just love to tackle you face first to the ground right now," he said, with a very dangerous laugh. Sarah, so very happy to be surrounded by witnesses, turned away meekly and sipped from her cup.

"You did ask me to punish you…" she mumbled. Jareth took hold of her hips and pulled her forward. Her drink splashed up on her face.

"And you did not disappoint. But, my love-" and he angled his head down to speak in her ear. "-do not think that we will ever be tit for tat." He pulled away with a sinister grin, and brought her back into the dance. She licked her lips as they locked eyes, as his hands took hold of her body possessively. And then, because she was just full of all kinds of abandon tonight, she gulped down the contents of her cup and then tossed it somewhere into the dark.

"Fine. But if that's the game you want to play, we're going to need a lot more to drink."

Sarah assumed she enjoyed herself the rest of the night. She assumed, because come the next morning she would not be able to remember it. The party had started to get a little wild. Jareth was very much an enabler, and being within the faerie ring did not allow her the capacity to pace herself as forewarned.

She drank quite a bit. At least, she thought she did. And so did Jareth. A right giddy couple of lushes they were, fawning and fumbling all over one another -and anyone else who happened to cross their path. They danced, and played, and laughed with fae whose faces were blurred, irrelevant, and incomplete. The night started to break into sequences after that. One moment she was here, the other, there. It seemed that whenever she closed her eyes, a darkness would span that lasted a little longer each time. She thought maybe she was blacking out. She'd never blacked out before.

She remembered dancing. The heat of the fire on her face. The grit of the sand on her toes as she twirled. She remembered hanging onto Jareth for dear life, and accidentally hurting him when she caught on his braid as she fell. She closed her eyes, and the next time they opened she saw Kodrun's face. He had an arm around Jareth and they were all talking about...something. She heard herself laugh but couldn't remember why. His words were indiscernible to her. She blinked, and the darkness was back.

She was dancing again; this time with Markos, and she looked around as she wondered where Jareth had gone. She found him, and saw a half-naked woman putting her hands all over him. She tilted her head, curious of the way she no longer cared.

She blinked and the image turned black. It was quiet. There was nothing.

And then she was kissing him. She was holding onto Jareth's neck and pulling herself up. He was bracing her haggardly, too tightly, with both arms wound around her back. There was music but- where-where the hell were they? No longer by the fire, she knew that much. She pulled back and gasped, and then it all went black again.

It was quiet. It was cool. She thought maybe she was asleep.

She was walking. It was colder now and not as bright. She looked up and Jareth was in front of her, holding her by the wrist and leading her away from the fire. She blinked at the back of his head, then looked around and tried to orient herself. How did they get here? Where were they going? The way his braid stretched down the length of his back made her giggle. She yelled at him and might have called him Davion. He glanced back with a smile, and it faded along with everything else as she no sooner fell back into darkness.

This one lasted longer. It felt like eternity. Was she awake? Was she conscious? Where the fuck was her body? The music...could she still hear music? She felt it. Felt it moving. Around her toes. Up her thighs. Filling her whole -just like Kodrun had said.

She opened her eyes and saw a roof above her. It was red. Or orange maybe. Green? What? Her neck was arched sharply back and it was hard to breathe. She scowled, and turned her head to the side. She was laying down. On a bed? But it felt lumpy. No, no they were pillows.

She moaned loudly and her body undulated. There was an odd sensation pinching her neck and she felt dizzy. She closed her eyes and the blackness threatened to take her once more. But this time she fought it. This time she held on...to the thing moving over top of her.

The first sensation to truly come back was the sound of her own breathing. It was loud. Too loud. It roused her and pulled her back from the abyss. She felt weightless. Floating. Her eyes fluttered open and struggled to see. Everything was blurred. She gulped, and then her back bowed and she screamed. She screamed as loud as she could. An orgasm had hit her so suddenly, it jolted her the rest of the way back to consciousness. She moaned and panted, and turned her head from left to right. She felt a hand moving through her hair, and tender lips covering her open mouth.

She kissed him. She closed her eyes and kissed him. He was moving inside her, fucking her in a way that, through the buffer of her wayward state of consciousness, felt gentle. He tasted of mead. Of sugar, and honey, and her.

"J-Jareth?" she asked, her eyes opened to tiny slits as if the low candle light of their surroundings blinded her. He hummed into her mouth, and placed a hand on her hip as he held her down. Sarah, gaining more and more lucidity, forced her eyes to adjust and tried pushing him away. He was not fucking her gently. "W-where are we? How the hell did we get here?" she asked. She felt him smile but he did not cease. Her body moved in waves against the pillows as he pushed in and out of her. God, it felt so good. She could feel another orgasm building already.

"Do you not remember?" he asked, teasingly. Sarah swallowed and licked her dry lips. She looked around the room and saw a table and chairs off to her side. Whose...whose tent was this?

"No. I don't. Can-can you stop? I don't-"

She started to struggle and, upon sensing her distress, Jareth stopped and eased up to his forearms.

"Calm down," he said, softly, and brushed the matted hair away from her face. She took a deep breath and composed herself. He stared into her eyes and regarded her carefully, tilting his head as he did so. "Do you really not remember anything?" Sarah shook her head.

"I don't know. I...I think I blacked out. Where are we?"

Jareth blinked at her, genuinely surprised.

"In a tent. It was offered to us for the night."

She swallowed and looked around. Her eyes were strained wide but they still had a hard time seeing. Her head felt severed from her body. Like she could be cast away from herself again at any moment.

"What...how did…"

Jareth, still hard and sheathed inside her, adjusted his hips as he leaned down to kiss her shoulder, and she actually moaned from that minor sensation.

"We walked here. Together."

She nodded like she understood but she really didn't. She was acutely aware of his presence within her. It was nearly too much. She felt swollen and over-stimulated. How...how long had they been in here?

"What...we're staying here? But what about the goblins and the banthas?" she shook her head and sounded oh-so-fretful. Jareth burst out laughing.

"The goblins and the banthas? Rest easy, love. They've set up their own camp for the night," he assured her, and kissed her on the neck. "While I find your priorities greatly askew at the moment, your consideration for them has been duly noted," he added, snickering against the sensitive skin of her neck and sending a tingle down her spine. She blinked, vaguely realizing how stupid she just sounded, and trudged through the mud of her stupor to get her fucking shit together.

"Okay. Okay. And um- have I been- so was I-" She started stammering, blinking rapidly as her brain struggled more than should have been necessary. Had she been passed out just now? And did that mean that Jareth was...was...was it still considered rape?

"Are you asking if I've been fucking you while you were unconscious?" Jareth asked. Sarah paled and gaped up at him. Yes. That was exactly what she was asking, and was in deep contention over whether or not an answer of yes would actually bother her. It should. Normally, it would. But the fae ring was still burning her ears and, in the moment, she just wanted him to start rocking his hips again. She thought he looked a little disappointed just then, but it was fleeting. "No, Sarah. I have not," Jareth said, to her immediate relief. He stared down at her like he couldn't believe they were even having such a conversation. "You've been fully cognizant and consenting this entire time." Sarah blinked in confusion, but laid idly as he leaned down and started kissing her neck once more. "In fact…" he mumbled, and pulled his hips away before gliding back in, slowly. "-you were the one who insisted we come in here."

She felt her body moving again, lurching in little waves in response to the hard, but careful, articulation of Jareth's cock thrusting in and out of her. Her jaw dropped open and her hands sprang to his arms in order to brace herself.

"I...I don't remember…" she said, in a high pitch that teetered on a moan. Jareth groaned, constricting his fingers in her hair as he hooked his hips sharper.

"A pity. We've been having quite a lot of fun."

"Jareth-" she squeaked, anxiously, and he quickly pet her head.

"Shh…" he whispered, gentling her, and he ghosted his lips across hers. She blinked at him slowly, with lids laid heavy. He was smiling at her. At least, she thought he was. "Relax," he said, and held her tenderly. "Just enjoy it. I'm determined to get a fifth orgasm out of you."

"F-fifth?!" she asked, alarmed, and suddenly wide awake. Her body became animated, which was something Jareth misinterpreted. His hand moved to brace her by the back of the neck, and he bit her as his thrusts became more aggressive.

"You were screaming so beautifully before. I want to hear it again," he said, and her back bowed when he pressed his thumb into the soft spot near her hip. She gasped, moaned, lost what little control she had. Everything felt so intense. Was it the alcohol? Was it the fungus? That seemed like a pointless thing to ponder at the moment. Her legs started fighting restlessly and she dug her nails into his biceps.

"Ah-J-Jareth!"

"That's right. Scream for me," he growled, and relished the feel of her tiny nails piercing his skin. She pressed her chest up against his, and arched her neck so severely she could see the back wall of the tent behind her. Her moans turned louder and louder, rose to ear-splitting tones. Her hands clawed up his arms and pulled at the back of his shoulders. She couldn't- She was going to-

She heard a very loud, low sound as Jareth moaned painfully into her neck. Her nails had cut into him with all their might, and then pulled downward savagely. He was sure there was now blood streaming down his back, but the shudder it caused him only brought him closer to climax. His arms buckled and he dropped himself to engulf her shoulders, and buried his face in her hair. Sarah's tightly tensed fingers jittered on the precipice, and, as the orgasm finally hit her, they cut down his back once again.

She screamed. Screamed bloody murder. Without any care or awareness of anything at all. It was too much. Too overwhelming. She blinked up at the ceiling. Once. Twice. And then everything turned black.

Sarah woke up the next morning feeling like a plank of wood. It was hard to move, and everything ached. She rolled her head -as that was the only thing in her control at the moment, and scowled as she willed her eyes to open.

Her surroundings came back to her slowly. She was in a tent. Green (definitely not orange), and was laying on a nest of pillows. She inhaled deeply through her nose, and finally her limbs joined in the effort to move. She drew up her legs, and realized they were naked. She pinched her forehead and looked down. She was still wearing her Princess Leia outfit, which was not exactly covering her at the moment. She inhaled again, and winced at the pang that wracked her head.

Mariella was sitting on a stool close by, reading a book and nibbling on a peach. She looked over to Sarah when she started groaning, and closed the book in her lap.

"Oh, good. You're finally awake," she said, too damn spirited for Sarah's liking. Her hangover was intense. It took all her might to sit herself up.

"What the...where the hell am I?" she asked. Mariella stared at her for a moment, then swallowed.

"We're in the Alvari camp. We joined in their fire last night, remember?"

Sarah managed to both nod and shake her head at the same time.

"Yes. Of course I remember that. I just…" and she groaned. Fuck. Her head was pounding. She couldn't think straight. Mariella gave her a moment to compose and waited patiently. "How did I get in this tent?" she asked. Mariella tilted her head.

"The Favraier gifted it to you and His Majesty last night, as part of his hospitality," she explained. Sarah pressed a palm to her temple as she stared around the tent. It was decently sized, with a vanity and dresser to her left (where Mariella sat) and a small dining table and chairs to her right. The pile of pillows she'd been sleeping on occupied a good fourth of the tent, and in the far corner, beside the door flaps across from her, was a plump upholstered sitting chair.

"So where...whoever owns this tent, where did they sleep?" she asked. Mariella looked around.

"Oh. No one occupies this tent. It's reserved for guests. The Alvari are always prepared to receive visitors."

Ah. Of course. Sarah sat up a little further and ran a hand around the back of her neck. She was trying, gradually, to recall as much of the previous night as possible. She remembered everything up until she and Jareth started drinking. That's when things...got a little hazy.

"Marie…" she mumbled. Mariella sat attentively.

"Yes?"

"I didn't...do anything crazy last night, did I?" she asked, nervously. She felt dirty. Her mouth was cotton and tasted foul, and she could feel the rat's nest in her hair. She shifted again and something hot seeped out of her… Oh. Shit.

"Define crazy," Mariella said, precariously. Sarah glared up with a look of pure mortification. Mariella was wincing. That was definitely not a good sign. She remembered random bits of partying. Jareth being close to her side. She remembered his hands and...and now the painful throb in her pubic bone made sense.

"Oh God," Sarah said, and covered her face with her hands. It was coming back to her now. Not all of it, but enough. She and Jareth had fucked like rabbits and she- did she pass out on him? "I wasn't...embarrassing? Right? Please?" She peaked at Mariella from between her fingers and nearly sobbed at the way the nymph was tentatively nibbling her lip. Fuuucccckkk.

"You…" she started, and made a very pained expression as she glanced away and searched for the most gentle of words. "You and His Majesty enjoyed yourselves. That's for sure."

"Fuck me-" Sarah said, throwing herself back down on the pillows. Mariella huffed.

"Yes. We know."

"What?"

Mariella bit her lip again. She knew Sarah would appreciate not knowing, but she would also drive herself mad otherwise. She kept her eyes averted, and gave a little shrug.

"You uh...you were very vocal about it. If I say so myself. Master Roldan and I...were starting to worry for your safety a little bit," she said, and, at the mention of Roldan's name, did Sarah lose her shit entirely. She sat up abruptly and whipped a pillow at Mariella as hard as she could.

"WHAT?!" she hollered. Mariella braced against the onslaught. "Jesus Christ…" and she buried her face in her hands and fell dead into the pillows. "Oh God. That's so embarrassing. Please, kill me now," she mumbled, curling into a little ball as she imagined what they all must think of her now. And Jareth- where the fuck was Jareth?

"You shouldn't be embarrassed Sarah. It's perfectly natural-" and then Sarah shut her up with a glare. Mariella smiled and changed directions. "We were celebrating your marriage after all. If it's any consolation, you were not the only couple who took to their rooms at that time."

Sarah stewed for a moment, and then remembered the orgie she was determined not to let happen. Maybe Marie was right. These people were so sex-crazed that her indescretions probably didn't phaze them at all. She used this to rationalize her shame, and then sat up again.

"At least they were private about it, I guess," she said, roaming her eyes awkwardly about the room. Mariella smiled and set the book back on the vanity.

"See? You've nothing to fret over. Are you feeling hungry? Thirsty perhaps? There is a breakfast platter and some water waiting for you on the table over there," Mariella said, and gestured towards such. Sarah scratched the back of her head and looked up at the table, and then suddenly clutched her stomach with her hand.

"Actually I'm...I'm feeling kind of nauseous. Oh geez…" she said, and keeled over as her aching stomach finally woke and joined the party. Fuck. She felt horrible from head to toe. Was there a bucket nearby?

"Oh no...Here, have some water," she said, and quickly dashed to the table and poured her a glass. She hunkered down and handed it to her, and that was when Sarah finally acknowledged Marie was dressed in another riding outfit.

"Thanks…" she mumbled, and drank. She wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse. "What time is it?"

"Um...around ten, I think?" she said, and peered upwards as she mused. Sarah scowled.

"What? Seriously? We're going to fall behind schedule-" she said, and tried to stagger to her feet. She failed, and huffed as vertigo sent her tumbling back to the ground. Mariella eased her down with a hand.

"Take it easy. You had a considerable amount to drink last night. As a human, I can only imagine how terrible you're feeling," she said, and Sarah nodded in agreement. "His Majesty did not want you disturbed...He did, however, want to know the moment you woke up. I'll go fetch him for you," she said and, before Sarah could respond, was shuffling to her feet and out the door.

Sarah growled as daylight blinded her in Mariella's wake, and she laid herself back down in the nest. A few minutes passed, and then she heard the tarp door lifting open again. She looked over, glared really, at the irritatingly chipper smile of Jareth, her Goblin King.

He stared at her for a moment, and then entered the room.

"Good morning, darling," he said and, knowing his tone, he was teasing her. Sarah rolled her eyes and sat up again. "How did you sleep?"

He was wearing a fresh pair of black, leather pants and a white puffy shirt that opened low in the chest. He looked freshly bathed, without an ounce of the hangover she was enduring. She also noticed his hair was still braided.

She gave him a look that could cause death, and stood to her feet.

"That good, eh?" he asked, trying not to laugh at her as she dragged herself to the table. She had a hand over her stomach, and was wincing with tightly closed eyes.

"I feel like I got hit by a truck," she said, her voice breaking from wear. Jareth approached and turned her to face him.

"Let me see," he said, and ran his thumbs along her forehead as he inspected her. She stood still, barely able to do anything more, and waited. She felt a thruming in her head that combated her headache, and soon, both faded to nothing. "How's that?"

Sarah inhaled deeply and rolled her head.

"Better...a lot better actually. Thank you," she said, and turned away from him. She stared down at her breakfast -some assorted fruits, jams, and toast- and forced herself to pluck a raspberry. "But my stomach is still weird. I feel like I might be sick." She frowned, and so did he. He looked over her and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Hm...I'll ask the Mavra to check in on you. I'm adept at many forms of healing, but it's not my most proficient discipline."

Sarah swallowed another berry and nodded. His hand lowered back to his side and he stepped away from her. Sarah looked over and spoke before he could decide to leave.

"So, uh, what happened after I passed out last night?" she asked, with a sharp inflection. Jareth paused and tilted his head.

"What do you mean?" was his innocent response. Sarah narrowed her eyes.

"You know exactly what I mean." They held each other's stare, and then he grinned.

"Are you wondering, perhaps, if I had my wicked way and kept on fucking you until I was well good and spent?" he asked, and almost laughed. She didn't get what was so funny about that. "Or, being the well-mannered gentleman that I am, put you back together and endured, on my lonesome, an absolutely blood-curdling ache in my balls for the second time in one night?" He'd shuddered as he said that, and actually curled a hand out in front of him. Such a physical reaction had her inferring, hoping at least, that the latter scenario was the case. Knowing Jareth to be Jareth, however, she wasn't exactly holding her breath.

"Yeah. Read my thoughts exactly," she said, and sucked another berry into her mouth. Her stomach was starting to settle. Finally. Jareth's grin curled on one side, and he stared at her haughtily.

"Hm...guess you'll never know," he said, and she shoved him when he ran a teasing finger down her arm. He laughed when she called him an ass, and recoiled when she shoved him again, then finished stepping away to go fetch the Mavra. She let him go this time, staring after him discreetly as he lifted the door flap. "Can you really not remember anything?" he asked, still in disbelief over the matter. Sarah shrugged.

"Kind of. It's coming back to me. In pieces. I think," she said, switching over to grapes, and eating one after another as she suddenly felt very, very hungry. Jareth's eyes flickered down as a sad kind of smile twitched on his face.

"Hm. Pity," he said, and stepped across the threshold.

Very soon after Jareth left, Mariella returned. Which made Sarah think she'd been waiting just outside the tent all along. As Marie opened the flap, Sarah spied the forms of Alvari fae walking by, and could hear the sound of their chatter. She wondered where exactly this tent was located within the camp, and what everyone else was currently getting up to. Was she the only one who'd slept in?

"His Majesty says he's sending for the Mavra. Sarah, are you alright?" she asked. Sarah nodded and sat in the closest chair.

"I'm fine. Just hung over. Jareth's just being over-protective," she said, waving off the issue. Mariella gave a tiny sigh of relief and joined her at the table.

"Oh. Good. I was worried for a moment. Alvari priests are expert healers. Although...His Majesty also seems very skilled in this field. I thought perhaps you suffered an illness he could not handle."

"I don't know. He fixed my headache, but apparently nausea is above his capabilities. I'm not even going to bother trying to dissect all that."

"Right….Medicine is a very complicated discipline. Things which we assume would be simple are often the most difficult, and vice versa," Mariella explained. Sarah nodded along as she ate a piece of toast.

"Hm...we haven't gotten to medicine yet. He just started me on meta-casting."

Mariella's eyes widened and she sat back in her seat.

"Goodness. Really?" she asked, and glanced around as if someone was pulling a prank on her. "That's a very odd thing for a human to learn. Although...I suppose as a Queen, human or not, you are fully entitled…" she went on. Sarah hummed as she stared at Mariella vacantly. She didn't really have anything to say to that, as she didn't really know why Jareth was teaching her about anything at all. He'd said it was so she could protect herself with preventative knowledge, but their curriculum didn't seem to have anything to do with that…

Both women looked over at the sound of the tent flap opening. The Mavra entered, without introduction, and gently closed it behind her. Her hair was done in the same twist of braids from the previous night, and today she wore a dark blue tunic with a gold lotus design. Mariella stood from her seat and bowed. Sarah (not knowing what else to do) mimicked her.

"No need to bow," Mavra said, giving them both a tired smile as she came near. Mariella moved away from the table in case the woman wished to sit. Sarah wondered why she allowed herself to age in the first place.

She was short and plump, and had deeply carved wrinkles...everywhere. She wore heavy kohl eyeliner and had a prominent mole on the left corner of her forehead.

"Good morning, Mavra," Mariella said.

"Yes, good morning," Sarah hastily repeated. Mavra nodded and came to stand before her. She took Sarah's hands and stared up into her eyes. "I hope we haven't bothered you. I'm fine, really. I think my husband is just hovering a bit," she said, smiling awkwardly. Mavra grinned and squeezed her hands.

"Undoubtedly. Of course you are fine. But we should cherish these moments. The subtle times when our loved ones prove to us that we are valued." She released Sarah's hands and turned to the table, pouring herself a drink like she owned the place. Oh. Wait.

Sarah took a step to the side to give her more room. Then she caught her reflection in the mirror, and almost died. As anticipated, her hair was a fucking atrocity. It was still braided, but had become more of a dreadlock, and tufts were pulled out at her crown every which way. Her makeup was just horrible. Smeared everywhere. But, if only raccoon eyes were the worst of it. No, that prize went to the clay markings. The red dashes that had been on her cheeks. They were crusted and smeared, and the pigment had stained her skin. She looked like the most poorly painted china doll ever made. That, combined with her sweat and alcohol stained space-bikini, did not lend her a very flattering portrait. She swallowed and tried not to acknowledge it. No-one else yet had…

The Mavra, who had been doing more than pouring herself a drink, turned around from the table with a concoction of some sort. She dipped two of her fingers into it and then held her hand up to Sarah. There was black goo on her fingers. What the hell was that for?

"Shall we get started?"

"Um...yeah. Of course," Sarah said, and stood awkwardly. Mavra gave her a soft smile, and stepped towards her. She reached out and pressed a wet dot to the center of her forehead.

"I see our King has already lessened your ailment. That was kind of him," she said, picking up on Jareth's power signature immediately. Sarah blinked in a look of panic.

"King? You...you know who we are?" she asked, darting her eyes left and right as she stood perfectly still. The Mavra looked down, and placed a dot over her sternum. Sarah did not see, but she was trying not to laugh.

"The dots were not hard to connect, dear. With you proclaiming your title left and right…"

Oh. Sarah felt her cheeks enflame to a torrid degree as another surge of embarrassment hit her. Great. Another thing she couldn't remember. She could just picture herself...toppling over a log and screaming 'Hail to the Queen!'.

"Um. Sorry...if I was obnoxious. I uh...don't drink very often," she said, tensing her arms at her sides as the woman placed dots at both her shoulders and the inside of her elbows.

"The Goblin Queen apologizing to an Alvari Mavra? My, what a gift," she said, never breaking stride as her eyes followed her hands attentively. She was looking over Sarah's stomach now, and placed a dot just above her navel. And then the Mavra paused. She stared for a moment, inspecting intently, and then placed a second dot lower on her stomach.

"Jareth has a lot of respect for your people. So do I," she said, trying to sound regal and not like the half-cocked teenager she actually was. The Mavra smiled but said nothing right away, and merely kneeled down to place dots over her thighs and then feet.

"My people are forever indebted to The King. Because of him we are safe to worship Alvra. We are safe to spread the true wisdom to the people of this land. I am honored Alvra chose our clan to host you. And I am honored you enjoyed our mead." She stood, and gave Sarah a wink. The blush renewed. Damn. Even their high priestess was a rascal. Sarah, not knowing if she was supposed to do anything with all these dots on her, jittered on her toes.

Mavra turned away and placed the cup back on the table. She seemed very relaxed, and took her time in turning back to face them. Sarah figured that meant she wasn't dying.

"As expected, you are both perfectly well," she said, and wiped the dark sludge from her hands. Sarah, absently wondering how exactly those black dots had brought her to such a determination, flinched when the words finally caught up with her.

"Um. Both?" Sarah asked, confused. The Mavra paused and looked up, locking onto Sarah's gaze with something she had no hope to discern. The old woman pursed her lips and cocked her head to one side.

"Yes. Your child. It remains healthy as well. Were...you not aware?"

The relief Sarah might have felt instead turned into a horrible, incorrigible, disgusting, panic-fueled torrent that wretched itself clear out of her chest and went all the way to hell and back as shock, total, violent, shock, sent her heart pounding brutally against her ribs. She stood there, petrified, wrenched out of body, while Mariella started to giggle and jump wildly in the background. No. No that wasn't possible. She must have misheard her. There was no fucking way...

Trying her best to blink terror into a manageable state of denial, Sarah gnawed on her lower lip as she very politely asked,

"Um...what?"

A/N- Oh, ho-ho dear reader. WHAT? I know it's cliche, but whatever I don't care. Some of you detectives might have picked up on preggo hints from way back in chapter...21? I think? Somewhere around there... O.O Anyway...how did this happen? Isn't Sarah on magic faerie birth control? Whatever will she do? Find out the answers to these questions, and more, in the next installment of A Twisting Heart And Mind. ;]

P.S. Yes, the Banthas are from Star Wars. They've been present in the story for a long time now, but this is the first time I've actually named them. ;)