Chapter Text

Chapter One

Sarah Williams tripped over the edge of the rug, cursing under her breath, all the while ensuring that her wine did not slop over and stain the antique Persian.

Not that Karen would mind now…

The thought was muddled in the dark. What once would have brought sharp pain instead was a dull ache.

Sarah held her glass, still nearly to the brim, aloft as she wove through the scattered chairs and mentally cataloged all there was left to do.

Funerals were expensive. Wasteful. And the guests? Never helped clean up, just left more food than three refrigerators could contain behind in their wake. At least they’d brought alcohol, too. Good Irish-Catholic folks, Karen’s family. So were her fathers.

Her mother’s Sicilian lineage gave Sarah her dark hair and piercing eyes. Everyone said so.

Sarah smirked. Her mother’s demise had once been the worst pain she could imagine.

No.

Strike that.

She stopped right where she was, halfway up the stairs to her old bedroom, and downed half the glass of wine.

Wavering a little, gasping, Sarah grasped the handrail and pulled herself the rest of the way up to the landing.

Floral wallpaper. Cream carpets.

She intentionally dribbled some of the red wine onto the immaculate fibers. “Take that,” she whispered.

She’d probably clean it up in the morning when she was sober enough to regret her actions.

Sarah had always had an impulsive streak, after all. Everyone said so, though none knew how close it had come to wrecking her and Toby’s life thirteen years ago.

Again, not that it mattered.

“Everyone is dead, and I’m alone,” she sang to the tune of White Christmas.

Karen had been the final holdout, but cancer had ravaged her and left her a skeletal thing that they decided to close the casket on. It was gone now, thank the gods, though it had sat in the living room for two days while well-wishers and viewers came to stare at—what? A glossy white box.

Sarah pulled her lips back from her teeth again. It was an expression Karen had hated. You look like a feral animal.

But that’s what she felt like sometimes when these thoughts dogged her, and she could not seem to climb out of the darkness. A wounded animal.

Her door stuck a little, but she kept from sloshing her drink, pushing into the room, and was immediately hit with a blast of cold.

“Fuck,” she swore, making her way to the window left partway open despite the swirling snow outside. Christmas Eve. A white Christmas, indeed, and—“A perfect day for a funeral,” she grumbled.

The only ones to complain (who she had heard, anyway) had been the gravediggers, and most likely because she stayed at the gravesite far beyond what was customary. She watched them pile on the clods of frozen mud and dirt, the sound of it hitting the coffin like a ka-thunk, ka-thunk of some great ticking clock, the men’s muscles corded under their long-sleeved flannels and breath frosting in the cold air. They had muttered about it being cold as balls and about being forced to do this all by hand instead of by machine as had become custom. But Karen had thought that was tacky after Robert’s funeral and had forbidden it at any future Williams event.

Sarah struggled with the window one-handed, swearing as her fingertips grew numb. The wood groaned, then finally gave, slamming shut with a rattle that made her back away, fearful of shattered glass.

In the aftermath, the room was very cold, still, and quiet.

Sarah blew out a breath that plumed like smoke before her.

And then she heard a melody, a tinkling chiming song that meant for little girls who dreamed of being princesses.

And teenagers who dreamed of fantastical kings.

Sarah’s head turned horror-movie slow to where the folded slats of her closet doors were partway ajar, the music coming from within.

And of all the things that she could think of, of all the horrors of the last thirteen years, she knew that this could be even worse, and yet—

Yet, she found her feet moving toward the space, skirting the cast-off hobbies of ten years of Karen having Sarah’s room to do with as she would. Sewing machines, cross-stitch patterns, knitting needles, yarn, bolts of fabric, glue, glitter, and dozens of other collections were strewn across the spaces that Sarah hadn’t gotten to yet. But she had been back here, back home, for nearly six months, and still, only the space around the bed could truly be called hers. The only spot she had carved out before the tedium and stress of caring for Karen in her last days dragged her down.

Now, the entire house was hers. Karen had inherited everything but then had no one but Sarah to pass it to, not and look like the Good Catholic she intended to be. Oh, she squirreled away a ton in “gifts” to her extended family, not to mention multiple funeral expenses and high medical bills. The cash on hand was less than the near seven figures it had been at the start of Sarah’s bad luck, but it was still plenty. And then there was the house.

She intended to sell it, pocket the cash, and get the hell out of New England. The place held too many memories. Memories and dreams. And what use did she have for four bedrooms that she couldn’t fill?

The music went on all during Sarah’s musings. She placed her hand on the edge of the accordion door and hesitated, downing the rest of her wine before pushing it open.

A music box caught her eye immediately, enameled in pink and gilt edges still sparkling merrily in the dim light from the hallway. The ballgown figurine in the center turned in a slow, jerking twirl as the music played on.

Sarah relaxed as the song started winding down, the notes falling further apart. Something must have knocked into it. The wind from the open window, perhaps.

She bent down and picked it up, the heavy metal that would be difficult to find in today’s market, perhaps in an antique store. Sarah frowned at the music box, setting her empty wine glass on a closed cardboard box labeled ‘fringe’ before twirling the enameled thing in her hand. Where had she gotten it? She could not recall.

“I wish I knew more,” she breathed, hiccuping.

The music box let out a final chime and then went utterly still.

Wind blew from nowhere, and the hairs on the back of Sarah’s neck stood on end.

Impulsive streak. She knew she had it. And now, after thirteen years of avoiding those two particular words, she had let them slip so casually.

She was sure she would see him when she turned, just as he had been before, just as imposing and shrouded in magic.

But when she turned around, there was nothing but an empty room and the glow from the hall. Nothing around but silence and the memories of all those who had lived in these rooms before.

Sarah tried not to be disappointed. Tried not to let this turn the wine sour in her stomach, but she would be a liar to herself if she did not admit that she was. Disappointed and tired. So tired.

She covered her face with her hands and then over her hair, balling it into her fists and pulling hard enough she gasped with the pain.

“Now, now,” a familiar voice purred near the window. “None of that, precious thing.”

Sarah whipped around, but there was no one there.

Heart pounding, breath coming faster, Sarah started to turn in a slow circle. “Where are you?”

Laughter, echoing like this was some cavernous ballroom, not her childhood bedroom stuffed with clutter. She bumped into a stack of boxes and sent them crashing into the space around her bed. Something touched her elbow, and she spun as chittering laughter ricocheted around the space.

Goblins, she thought drunkenly. Fuck, it’s really him.

There was still no king in sight, though it was undeniably his touch, his laughter, that she heard. That voice that she would never forget.

Sarah tried for the door, but it slammed shut, plunging the room into utter darkness save for the weak starlight glittering off the blanketing snow through the window. That was faint enough. Spending a few moments on the door handle, she wanted to weep with frustration. It simply would not turn!

“Sarah,” breathed a voice so close he must be right behind—

This time, when she turned, it was him, The Goblin King, with that smile that he had for her in the tunnels beneath the Labyrinth.

They were more of a height now, but he still had a few inches on her. Just enough to make her look up to meet that mismatched gaze. Those eyes glittered in the dimness, but they were just as vibrant as she remembered, the smile and features just as cutting, his hair something she wanted to touch so much she balled her hands into fists.

“What do you want?” she blurted, aware of her breath, probably reeking of wine and some of the garlic hummus she’d slammed back in a spare moment. Also aware that she wore funeral black but that her hair was a mess from her pulling on it for hours.

But the way he looked at her? His gaze raked over her, and what she saw there before he began taking in the dark attire was hunger, pure and simple. But then that little smile started to tilt down at the edges. “Why are you dressed for mourning?”

“Because I buried my stepmother today,” she said, speaking just as suddenly as before. It was not at all like her. So much so that she was sure there was magic at play.

Some creature giggled between the stack of boxes, and The Goblin King cast a withering glare behind him, making the room fall utterly silent once more. “You get used to it, and them,” he said to her when he’d turned back, then sighed and offered his arm. “Very well. Come along.”

Sarah blinked. “Wha—”

“You spoke a wish for the first time in thirteen years. I could not have heard them before those thirteen years were up, did you know?” He sounded pleased with this fact, a glimmer in his eyes telling her he knew she had not spoken them before. “You are The Labyrinth’s champion, and it extends to you certain protections.” He breathed deep, leaning far too into her personal space, forcing her to back up against the wooden door. “Incredible. Despite your poor choice of alcohol—”

“Hey,” she interrupted. “We broke out the good stuff for Karen.”

He snorted. “If you say so. Well. Despite that aroma of red wine, you smell…” he smiled again, exposing sharp teeth. “It does not matter. Come. Your place is no longer here.”

A chorus of chatter and laughter. The thunder of her pulse in her ears and the ache of her ribs as she began to breathe sharper made her head swim even more. “You weren’t even supposed to be real,” she whispered, holding a hand up to ward him off.

He captured it instead, tucking it into his elbow and patting it gently as though she were a recalcitrant child recently restrained. She tugged, swearing, but there was no breaking his hold. “I am very real,” he said, his words making her still.

It was atrocious. Something deep within her wanted to hear every word and watch them pass his lips. She hated it.

“As is our betrothal,” he continued as though remarking upon the weather or the color of the wallpaper. “Which has been too long unsealed. We will correct that this night.”

Her stomach bottomed out. “What?” she asked again.

In response, he pulled her forward, but instead of a maze of boxes, it was a maze of a different sort that she next stepped foot, a boundless black sky above her speckled with a billion strange stars. Her view was only marred by the tops of the massive gray walls of the Labyrinth, sparkling in the starlight, their echo of the night sky.

“No—no!” Sarah yelled, trying to wrench out of The Goblin King’s grasp. “I can’t!”

“You can, and you will. Nothing remains for you there.” He spoke so matter-of-fact that the strength seemed to sap from her.

So he knew.

“Of course I know,” he whispered, pulling her close with an arm around her waist, drawing her slightly before him as he steered her along the path. “I have kept my distance, but you were never alone.”

She shivered.

They were close enough that she brushed against him, felt his body heat, and could smell—something. Incense. Something familiar.

Sarah was so distracted that she barely realized they stopped before a massive fire until the heat before her seared more than what she felt from Jareth. She glanced around, startled to see an assembled group of probably more than five hundred—beings. They were, by and large, human in size and shape, but some were giants towering like mountains at the back of the ring. Many wore masks. Some of them were intensely familiar.

“The ballroom…” she said, lips numb. “That dress.”

Lips near her ear and a voice only for her, so soft and warm that it raised gooseflesh along her neck and down her arms. “You wore a wedding dress and danced with a king. Did you think that meant nothing?”

“I was fifteen!” she hissed, attempting to wrench from him again, but his hold was fast. “I don’t want this!”

“Accept the binding, Sarah. You have nothing else. But all you wished for could be yours and more besides.” The arm around her waist tightened, and his voice lowered again. “Give me some of your time. Please.”

The ‘please’ stopped the objections bubbling in her throat, and then there was someone speaking, standing so close to the fire that she feared for them and had trouble making out their features.

“We are here to observe the binding of King Jareth of the Goblins with that of the mortal Champion of the Labyrinth, Sarah Williams.”

She recognized that voice and was stunned when her old friend stepped forward so that she could finally make him out. “Hoggle?” she whispered.

He looked at her sadly, then raised his voice once again. Scratchy but strong, he spoke to Jareth. “What groom gift do you bring in offering?”

Jareth held out the hand not splayed across Sarah’s stomach, opening it palm-up to display a daintier version of the silver and gold pendant he wore around his neck. The luster of the metal caught in the firelight and seemed to glow even stronger, and she found herself wanting to reach for it. She licked her lips. The audience let out a collective sigh.

Hoggle nodded, then looked to Sarah. “And you? What bride gift do you bring in offering?”

“I—” she started to say she had nothing, but then The Goblin King’s lips were at her ear. She repeated what he said, though she did not wholly understand why she listened to him at all. “I bring my mortality and fresh grief.” She toed off her shoes, which still had grave dirt clinging to the soles, and pushed them forward with her stocking feet.

The crowd murmured loud now, and some leaned forward, licking their lips like this was some prized cut of meat she offered. What have I just done? She thought.

Hoggle gazed at her with a resignation that made her want to run, but Jareth still had a grip on her. “Your gifts are acceptable to the court,” he said gruffly, then motioned them forward, pulling a silver cord from one of the many pockets on his clothes. It was silver like starlight and snow, glittering in a way that made Sarah brace for cold, but instead, the cord was soft as down and warm from the fire.

She barely realized it was around her wrist until the knot tightened down, snapping her hand against Jareth’s so that their fingers entwined. This was not the gentle binding rituals she had seen among friends but something far older. She had hardly blinked, and it was around them, her left hand to his right.

“You are bound, one to another, from this night forth,” Hoggle intoned, and moved out of their way. “Take your first steps together as fully betrothed.”  

Jareth stepped forward, pulling them both into the fire. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

Sarah sucked in a breath of heated air to scream, but then they were through the fire, and all that was left was a faint tingle to her fingertips and a cold weight about her neck, something resting at her breast that she reached up to and found was the pendant Jareth had held out earlier.

“Thank you for listening to me, precious,” The Goblin King said now, tugging at the cord to release their binding and stepping away from her. “It would have gotten difficult otherwise.”

Sarah blinked, realizing they were no longer in The Labyrinth but somewhere else. The castle? She went to the window, pressing her palms to the wide stone sill as she leaned out. The air was brisk, something like early autumn instead of midwinter.

And stretched out before her was The Goblin City and the twisting corridors of the endless Labyrinth beyond that.

She turned back to the room they had entered, gaze tracking from one piece of furniture to the next.

Mostly, it was like a massive studio, a combination of living, dining, and sleeping quarters. The walls were pillared with stoned but primarily slabs of thick cherry, carved with floral motifs and laughing goblin faces. Tapestries and paintings of all sizes took up every square inch of spare room between bookshelves and windows. The furniture was plentiful and looked expensive and comfortable, and the massive fireplace looked big enough to roast a cow.

Jareth stood by it, a glass of amber liquid in each hand, and beckoned her with a glance.

She found her feet moving toward him, slipping with her nylons on the thick carpet and fur rugs.

The Goblin King handed her one of the crystal tumblers when she was near enough, and she took it and sniffed, curious, though she was looking more at him. She had not taken in much of his appearance save his face since he appeared in her bedroom.

Now she looked at the rest of him, eyes roving from the tips of his flyaway hair to his tight wine-red vest, flowing deep green sleeves, dark red leather gloves, and matching tight pants that disappeared into knee-high black leather boots with a slight heel. He looked as though his leg coverings were practically painted on, and it took effort to wrench her gaze back up to his laughing face.

“Like what you see?”

Sarah lifted her chin. “You looked at me much the same.”

“Yes,” he agreed, doing it again. “You are a wonder to behold, in person, not in vision or crystal.”

Her skin prickled, and something low in her stomach twisted with heat and need. “I thought I might have dreamed you.”

“No, you didn’t. You knew it was real. Not to be believed or understood by those around you, but you knew it to be real. That I—” he reached out and brushed her cheek, pushing hair behind her ear. “Am real.”

Sarah stepped back and lifted the glass, inhaling again and noticing, this time, the botanical bouquet that rose from the liquor. “What is this?”

“Faerie wine,” he said. “To toast the bond of our betrothal.” He lifted his glass.

“Why do you have so much more?”

“It’s potent, precious, and you’ve had wine already this evening. But still, a toast is customary. Drink with me.”

She lifted the glass to her lips but stopped before taking a sip, pulling back enough to ask, “Are you using magic on me?”

“A little,” he admitted. “But only enough to give you a nudge.” He did not sound ashamed about it in the least. “Do you want me to stop?”

It was just as dark here as it had been at her family home, and only the small flames of candles and the larger fire were there to light the room. His eyes were like twin coals in the dimness.

Sarah licked her lips.

Instead of answering his question, she tipped her glass against his so that it rang clear, then downed half of hers in one swallow.

It was the most marvelous thing she had ever tasted, and by the sound that Jareth made as he downed his own, he agreed, a low growl of satisfaction emanating from his chest.

“Alright,” Sarah said, taking another sip. “I concede that if your liquor is all like this, we don’t have the good stuff.”

Jareth laughed and set his crystal on the fireplace mantle, eyeing hers until she finished before plucking the glass from her hand.

“I have questions,” Sarah blurted as he stepped toward her, reaching for the collar of his vest.

“I’m sure you have plenty,” he agreed. A button snapped loose, exposing an inch of pale flesh. “Ask whatever you will.”

“I—would you stop that?” Another button was gone, and now another. “Why are you getting undressed?”

“It’s been a long day,” he said, gesturing to the clock above the fireplace with thirteen hours on its face. It was currently two o’clock. “Sunrise is only a few hours away, and unlike popular opinion, a king has many duties they must attend to. And I do not sleep clothed.” He shrugged off the vest and began pulling his shirt out from the hem of his pants, keeping his eyes on her all the while. “Of course, I also want to bed you.”

Sarah swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “B-bed me?”

“Lie with you. Make love to you. Fuck you.” He shrugged, then pulled the shirt clean off, exposing his long, lean torso. “However you wish it, I would like to be with you.”

She was having trouble concentrating on both the gorgeous half-naked man before her and the growing warmth from the alcohol in her stomach. “But I need to know what it means, that we’re betrothed. Why are my shoes missing? Why do I have this?” She lifted the pendant by the chain. “I can’t take it off when I try. Why is that?”

“You must divorce me if you wish to be rid of my groom's gift. And I would have to give up your mortality.” He smiled, exposing those sharp, crooked teeth of his. “Tell me, do you miss it?”

“Wait!” Sarah cried when he reached for her, pulling out of his reach. Her heart was beginning to pound anew. “What do you mean, you have my—I gave my mortality. What did that do? What does it mean?”

Jareth studied her briefly and then shrugged, reaching down to pull off one boot and then the next, speaking as he did so. “It was the most expeditious way to ensure you will live as long as I do, for I am and have always been immortal. Your mortality would have limited our time together. And I do not wish to do this all over again.”

“And what is this?” She could not help but ask.

“The Labyrinth requires a King and Queen,” he explained. “And a Champion? That suited it fine. I had the choice of taking you to bride or stepping down.” He paused. “Well, that or be forcefully removed. There is much at play here. Many old magics.”

Sarah’s head swam. “You’re immortal?”

“I’m of the fae,” he said, stopping as he peeled off wool socks and cast them aside into a growing pile. His feet looked strange, long and white, yet still beautiful. “Your shoes,” he motioned at her stockinged feet. “Are the physical representation of your fresh grief. I'm sure the court will be mostly finished devouring them by now.”

She blinked.

“You don’t feel it anymore, do you? That fresh, raw wound of new grief? Isn’t it gone?” He tilted his head like the owl she thought he turned into. The firelight behind him cast his hair in a halo. “It should be, or near enough as makes no matter.”

Sarah did as much of an internal assessment as one could when one's head was swimming with the effects of alcohol. But he was right. It was—as though Karen had been gone for years, not days. “No, I don’t feel it,” she confessed, then lifted her chin again, stepping forward and pointing straight at him. “Who permitted you to mess with my mind? My grief is--”

“A gift,” he whispered, capturing her finger and drawing her hand to his face, kissing her palm while keeping his gaze on her. “One you so graciously gave to a species who lives long and knows little of the profound sense of loss that a mortal will feel in their lifetime.”

She made a soft sound when his lips touched her, and he smiled, tracing fingers down the inside of her wrist until the cuff of her long-sleeved dress stopped him. “Why do you want to sleep with me?” she asked, her voice breathier than she would have liked.

“You are my betrothed. It is only natural. Sarah,” his head tilted again, and she hated how much she liked it, how when he studied her, the intensity of his gaze was like a thousand touches. “You do want me, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, unable to help the words. Magic, it has to be the magic. That or the alcohol. “I mean,” she stammered. “Goblin King, I—”

He moved forward enough that she was crushed against his bare chest the moment his arm snaked around her waist. She did not protest, her hands resting on either side of where his pendant lay at his sternum. “You know my name,” he murmured, his breath smelling sweet as the wine they had just imbibed and something more. Something Sarah desperately wanted to taste. “Use it, precious Sarah. I want to hear you say it.”

She slid her hands up to his shoulders, fingers playing in the soft strands of his hair. Her heart was beating hard and felt half-lodged in her throat. She glanced up at him through her lashes and saw that hunger again, something fierce and feral that sent a throbbing heat to her core. “Why are we betrothed?” She asked instead of doing as he asked.

Fingers played along her spine, and she shivered. That smile of his was back. “Because you are Champion. There could be no other, and I—” that gaze darkened even further. “Too old to turn, too young to keep. There was much that bade me wait for you, but no longer.” His grip on her tightened, one gloved hand cradling her cheek. “Say my name, and I am yours.”  

Her lips parted. “No fear me, love me, do as I—”

“No,” he interrupted, his expression turned stricken for a moment, and his grip tightened further. “I am not challenging a runner anymore, and you are no longer so young you cannot hear the full truth,” he whispered harshly. “I choose you for many reasons. The Labyrinth recognizes you as Champion. You are known to my subjects and feared, as a good ruler should be.”

Sarah pulled back a little at that, and he let her.

“But mostly, my Sarah, I know you to be mine. I knew it the first time I saw you acting in that park in the Above. I knew it when I beheld you the first time in person, and it sealed the second I held you in my arms.” He reached for the wrist of his left hand, pulling buttons cuffing the gloves, and sliding the dark leather from his fingers.

Sarah was mesmerized and found herself moving closer to him again.

When he touched her this time, there was a sizzle and a spark. More pleasure than pain, but some of both, and she gasped, eyes wide.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, bending his head to press a kiss against her forehead. It should have been ridiculous and silly, but the touch was so intimate, coupled with his newly bared hands reaching for her face— “Give me some of your time, Sarah. Let me show you what life can be like with me.”

The skin of his neck was close, and she inhaled deep. Incense and magic, yes, but something else. Whatever it was, it made her knees weak. “If it doesn’t work?”

“You can divorce me whenever you wish,” he said, the words like the wind. His palms bracketed her face, fingers playing in her long hair. “You just need to say, ‘I divorce you,’ thrice.”

Her startled glance was met with a smile as she pulled back enough to see him again. “Why would you tell me that?”

“Because, trickster though I can be, I am not trying to trap you.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

“Right now? Seduce you. But in the long run?” His eyes glimmered again like embers in the dark. “Build an empire that will withstand time.”

“And you think I can help with that?”

“I know you. Yes.” Thumbs traced patterns on her cheeks. He stared at her for a long time, and she at him. “Do I need to ask again?”

She knew what he meant and swallowed hard, lips parting so that he brushed the pad of one thumb over the lower lip, causing her to tremble.

Whatever magic Jareth had been using on her, she felt it was no longer in play.

This was all about her decision, her choice.

He was not making it easy, though, half-naked and gorgeous, with an entire kingdom and probably unimaginable wealth at his disposal. He was offering a far more enticing temptation than she remembered from her time in The Labyrinth.

She reached for his chest, running a hand up to his neck. He watched her.

“You’re sure about this? About me?” she asked.

He bared his teeth in a smile, and her breath caught. “Without a doubt.”

Hesitating a little on the name so often said by her friends but never by her, Sarah gave him a shy smile. “Jareth—”

He let out a low sound.

“—consider me seduced.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

So many things were swimming in her mind, things that Sarah needed to know but still did not understand.

But she had the feeling he knew just about everything there was. Because the way he touched her now, reaching for her and drawing her in for their first kiss, spoke of knowledge and intimacy beyond anything she had brushed against before.

She expected him to claim her, to be forceful, but he was tender, teasing her until it was she who was the aggressor, chasing after his mouth and the sweet taste to be found there.

But, oh, how he touched her. Brushes and caresses that were so soft they were like the soft scrape of moth wings. And then his blunted fingernails would press down on her flesh, and she gasped into their kiss, throwing herself into the moment.

All her questions could wait. This, here, now, was what she needed. More than oxygen. The next kiss, the next touch. More.

“Savor it, precious,” Jareth rasped between presses of their lips. “We have all the time in the world.”

It was so unlike any of her previous lovers. All two of them. The last had disappeared after they had sex the first time. A conquest completed, she supposed.

The thought gave her pause. Sarah pulled back enough that she could look at him, tilting her head similarly to what he had done before.

Jareth laughed. “You think this a mere dalliance? No, Sarah, mine.” His grip on her turned possessive. “I aim to warm your bed many nights,” he kissed her left temple. “And many days,” he kissed her right. “And in however many spare moments you will allow.” This time, he claimed her mouth.

She moaned against the kiss. He kissed like he meant it.

He kissed as though she were the only person in the world for him. And, for the moment, she believed it and him.

I may come to regret this in the morning, she thought, reaching for the hem of his pants. But I can’t find the space to care.

Not when he was so thick and hot in her hand, burning and velvet soft steel. She caressed his considerable length, and he broke away enough to hiss and then groan with the pleasure her touch raised in him. “Gods, Sarah… I have wanted you so long.”

“I’ve wanted you, too,” she whispered, teeth closing around his earlob for a quick nip. “I’ve touched myself thinking about you.”

“Have you?” Jareth’s voice was a rasp, but he was grabbing for the hem of her dress, bunching it around her waist as he drew up the fabric to reach her. She could barely remember why she was wearing it to begin with, but then she remembered, yes. The funeral. That had been earlier today. And now—

Now!

Jareth touched her feather-light across the seam of her underwear, and she whimpered. She wanted those fingers more than anything, and he could probably tell with how thoroughly soaked through she was.

He watched her while she had his hands on him, while he pulled aside the thin fabric of her panties and dipped a finger into her waiting heat.

They both gasped as he did, and she stilled in her movements as his skilled fingers slid along her folds, exploring and caressing both.

“You’re so very,” he drew out the word. “Very wet.”

Her knees were shaking, more so when he pulled away and turned her around, breaking her hold on him. “Wha—”

The zipper on the back of her dress was pulled down. Not forcefully, but he was slow no longer. She could sense their mutual impatience, but then he let out a little sound of pleasure when he slipped the plain black dress from her and saw the corset she used for support wear, the black satin and lace something she had picked out for reasons outside of the funerary. She was glad, especially now, that she had chosen that small luxury. It and the matching black satin and lace underwear and thigh-high stockings made her look—

“Outside of mourning, precious, you are a dream,” he murmured, and Sarah blushed as she turned to him, covering herself. “Oh, none of that,” Jareth chided. “I intend to see every inch of you.”

It was as though she knew she would be looked at by him when she dressed, that this was pre-destined.

Perhaps it is, she thought.

Jareth reached for her, pulling her by the waist closer to him and plunging the other hand beneath the band of the thin fabric covering her core. She made a startled sound as his fingers slipped along the hard nub of her clit, making her knees go weak. She clutched his arm and shoulder, eyes wild and wide.

He kissed her, his tongue delving in to taste her the moment she gasped. He stroked gently, coaxing her higher with each swirling press. Both her hands were at his shoulders now, and she ran them up his neck into his hair, brought his face closer, and the kiss deeper. She wanted to crawl into this sensation and live there forever. She was on fire, and every touch was—oh, so sweet.

When she came, she broke the kiss, her brow furrowed as she panted. “Fuck, Jareth…”

“I love hearing my name while you moan,” Jareth growled, his arm around her waist holding her in place as she began to buck. “I want to hear you scream it while I fuck you.”

The words sent her over the edge, and she came, nails digging into his shoulders and back. He covered her mouth with his, and then he was lifting her, her legs wrapping around his torso as they kissed, and he moved them, pressing her down on a plush surface. She broke from him to see he had laid her on the edge of an enormous bed. Carved wooden pillars cornered it, topped with starbursts painted with gilt and hung with thick curtains.

But she barely had time to take it in before he hooked his fingers in her underwear, pulling it down her legs and then spreading them.

Her entire body jerked when his shaft bumped against her thigh. The feel of him so hot and hard made her moan, everything in her clenching in anticipation.

Fingers dipped into her, and Jareth made a satisfied sound, hand moving to his length. He was glancing between her and his movements, running the head along her slick folds, the wet noises that were produced making her blush. “You are ready for me, aren’t you precious?” he asked, his restraint still holding him back.

Sarah let all her desire fill her eyes as she looked at him, all he had roused in her pouring out beneath her dark lashes.

“Oh, yes, you are,” he whispered, palm brushing up the curve of her hip. He gripped her there as she raised her legs, and he began to push into her.

Sarah tried to keep her eyes on him, but the sensation was so intense that her head fell back, neck in an arc as he continued to press his thick, heated cock inside of her.

She had been with mortals. Been brought so some degree of pleasure by their hands. But nothing in the Above could compare to this.

“Gods, you’re tight,” he growled, still going, the pressure even deeper now.

Sarah squirmed and gasped when he was fully seated, twitching within her, and reached for him, pulling him down as she raised enough to capture his mouth.

He groaned, her name a similar low sound when he pulled back, both in kiss and where their hips met. She tried to chase him in both places, but he kept the movement his, slow and delicious.

Something seemed to be swelling in her chest, and she could not tell what it was, only that she needed more. So much—“More,” she said, the word falling from her lips before she could stop it. “I need you—”

Jareth crashed into her, and she choked, then called out as he began to move, hips thrusting and his hands exploring, tearing at her corset to free her breasts so he could suck and bite them.

Sarah came with a scream, his mouth latched to one nipple and his fingers slipping over her clit as he continued to dive into her again and again. “Jareth!”

His head whipped up, and his mismatched gaze was feral, his expression severe as he began to pump into her with a frenzy so fierce she knew what would happen next.

Gripping her hips tight, Jareth buried himself in her a final time and let out a snarling sort of cry, his face slack for a moment in delirious pleasure.

Sarah could feel the increase in fluids, especially as he pulled out and some of that hot seed dribbled from her. “Holy shit,” she breathed, legs trembling, staring at him with wide eyes.

Jareth grinned, then slid onto the bed by her side. There was a little wiggling and cursing as they adjusted, but soon they were lying side by side, Sarah tentatively nestling against his side.

He reached out and hauled her to him. He was still firm, thick, and sticky with their combined fluids. “We need a bath, and then I plan to do that again at least once more before bed.”

“Again?” Sarah said, pulling back a little to look at him.

“Dear, if I could always be buried in you, it would not be a waste. There is something about you that is… there’s a depth to this that I did not expect, precious. I knew I was drawn to you. I am just starting to feel…” he hesitated, trailing off, his fingers playing along her shoulder, drawing circles on her flesh.

Sarah hated to break the spell, to say anything that could distract from this moment and all that it could mean, but—“I have to go to the bathroom.”

Jareth laughed. “Of course. Through there, precious,” he gestured at a wide, carved, gilded golden door. “You’ll find everything you need. I’ll knock before joining you.”

She slipped from the bed, keeping her eyes on him until she had to focus more on her shaking footsteps. She had been drinking, and certain acts required—well, in short, she had to pee.

Sarah was afraid she would find a chamber pot or some other facility that she would have to ask Jareth how to use. Instead, she found a standard porcelain toilet. Sighing in relief, she went about her business as quickly as possible before going to the wide carved stone sink, turning the tap, and finding the water deliciously warm. She looked up as she washed, surprised to find a massive mirror and her reflection staring back at her.

She looked a mess. Well-fucked.

Hot as hell.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from kisses and similarly dark with color. All her makeup was long gone, smeared by his hands so that faint dark wings appeared at the corners of her eyes. Her hair was wild and cascading down her back to her waist, mussed so that there was no doubt about the activities that had just occurred.

Sarah had thought he had torn the corset, but he had skillfully unhooked several of the clasps so that her breasts spilled out and the corset hung lower on her abdomen. She finished the job of taking it off, breathing a sigh of relief as her stomach was able to expand naturally. She rolled off her stockings one at a time, tossing them and the corset into a basket in the corner filled with what looked like discarded clothes.

There was a knock at the door.

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “You can come in.”

Jareth paused in the doorway, taking in her fully undressed state. “Why, Sarah…”

She smiled back at him, going against her instinct to cover herself and standing tall instead. “You’re naked, too.”

“So I am. Whatever shall we do.”

“Bathe,” she said, motioning to the massive sunken bath made of stone. It began filling with water as she glanced at it, permeating the air with aromatic steam. “And then sleep, probably.”

“I want to be inside you again.”

Her knees shook at the statement, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply. “There’s a lot to discuss, still, and I’m tired, Jareth. I’m a human—”

“But not a mortal one. Not anymore.”

She waved his words away and stepped toward the bath, looking over her shoulder at him. “Be that as it may, I’ve been awake more than two days. I need to sleep.”

Concern washed over his features, and Sarah halted. He came to her side, and she looked up as he brushed the hair back from her face. “I’m sorry. I know this is—you have had some experience with this sort of thing. Your father. Toby—”

“I don’t want to talk about any of that,” she said, the whisper soft but firm. “Just hear me when I say I must go to bed soon. I can feel it in my bones. Maybe it’s just muscle memory, but I need it right now. Okay?”

He nodded, and then that smile was back, and he reached for her, pulling her close and whispering, “I will still touch you everywhere this evening, precious.”

He did as he promised, pulling her into the bath and forbidding her from tending to herself, pampering her with sweet, mildly erotic movements and sweeps of the hand. She was cleaned thoroughly, from scalp to toe, and was ready to melt into a puddle when they emerged from the still-steaming water. So tired that she was wavering on her feet, Sarah could scarce remember what they needed to discuss. She stood there while he dried her first and then himself, both with still-damp hair that would need to dry before sleep.

“You’re exhausted,” Jareth said, voice soothing. His hands still wandered, caressing the globe of her ass, her shoulder. She shivered, and his eyes kindled with the knowledge of what he was doing to her. “Or perhaps not.”

Her eyelids were heavy, but she lifted them to look up at him. “You just want to have sex again.”

He leaned in, whispering hot against her lips, “I want you wrapped around my cock, squeezing me tight. I want your breath in my ear, moaning my name.”

She let out a soft whimper.

“I want your trembling in my arms as you come to the edge over and over,” his fingers were ghosting along her upper thighs, and she parted them a little, inviting. “Yes,” he whispered, still softer. “I need to feel if you’re wet for me.”

She let out a gasp when his fingers brushed against her and then into her, finding her slick even though she had just been so thoroughly bathed. Sarah gripped his arms, head tilted up to receive his kiss. He was gentle, as though he knew just how swollen and sensitive she was, but it still did not take long before she was breaking from his kiss with a panting mew. “Gods, I’m going to come.”

“Yes,” he murmured, pressing kisses to her face and neck, his teeth scraping her flesh. “Come, Sarah.”

His command was enough, and she cried out his name, almost collapsing as the orgasm ricocheted through her.

Jareth lifted her in his arms, carrying her out of the bathroom and back into the massive bedroom. She kept her arms around his neck as he did, feeling vaguely like the bride she had been called earlier in the—evening? Was it still night?

She glanced at the window; the sky was still black as pitch. She stretched where Jareth lay her on the center of the bed, her muscle sore in the most delicious of ways, her core still clenching and heated with anticipation. There was no mistaking the look on his face as he crawled onto the bed beside her. Jareth was many things, but he was still a man.

He caught her mouth, and her eyes slid shut as their hands explored one another. He made good on his promise to touch her everywhere. She had never felt so treasured, as though she were something beyond riches. His touch was reverent, never casual, and the noises he made against her mouth were such that she knew he was in a similar state of heightened sensation.

Sarah spread her legs, hauling him on top of her. He did not resist the movement, breaking to kiss her throat and reach between their legs, lining himself with her entrance.

She lifted her hips, and he slid into her so suddenly that her breath caught.

Oh, how sweet it felt, how full and stretched she was when he was in her. There was no other sensation quite like it, and she found her orgasm coming swiftly. Even as she came twitching around him, calling his name, digging her nails into his back, he kept up his pace. Relentless, it was not long at all until she was a panting mess once more.

She flipped them after her third orgasm, breaking their contact for a mere moment before she was spearing herself on his thick length.

Riding him, the pressure became sharper, seeming even deeper than before, and her mouth fell open as she rocked.

Jareth had his hands at her hips, guiding her movements and helping steady her. He looked—not awe-struck, but close.

Like this—her, Sarah—was something he had wanted for years, just as he said. That it mattered, not just to him but in the overall sense of the world, they counted.  

She wanted to believe it, so she let herself fall into the sense that this meant something.

Jareth found her clit with his thumb and slipped a slow, circling pattern over it, watching her all the while as she continued to move.

Sarah did not want to stop, not after the next orgasm, or the one that followed, or the one after that. When he slid her off him and lay her on her belly, she whispered, “Please don’t stop. Not yet. I don’t want to stop.”

Jareth chuckled and knelt over her, plunging deep into her a moment later. She lay there while he fucked her with long, slow thrusts, the intensity such that she was trembling, shaking, her breath leaving in huffing pants.

They ended up with her on her back again, arms and legs wrapped around him as his thrusts deepened, increased in intensity, and then became wild.

She held his face, fingers in his hair, as he came, kissing him at the zenith and ensuring their hips stayed locked together.

He kissed her, lips brushing soft before deepening with the softness of his tongue.

Sarah fell into the kiss.

Bliss, she thought. I could get used to this.

Sleep was beginning to take her. He pulled out and rolled to the side, and they spent some time in each other’s arms, listening to the beat of one another's hearts. Her eyes were getting heavy.

“You are all and more,” he whispered, mouth at her ear. “I am glad it was you, Sarah Williams.”

She wanted to ask what, but she was falling into dreams…

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

Sarah’s dreams were chaotic. Full of voices crying for help, the sensation of being watched, and endless falling…

She woke with a start, body immediately complaining with aches and pains from the previous night, and—

Oh.

The events and sensations rolled over her mind, and Sarah flushed, looking around. There was no Goblin King in sight.

She lay there in the bed for a time, blinking slowly as her thoughts came together and separated from what had felt like days of dreams. Rubbing her eyes free of sand, Sarah slid from the covers and padded over to the fireplace, glancing at the clock.

Four o’clock. She blinked. If that were accurate, she had slept at least twelve hours. Perhaps more. Were days twenty-six hours long in the Underground? “I wi—”

She stopped herself. Of course, she wish she knew, but something about speaking those two words again, now? After everything that had happened?

Following the call of her body, Sarah went to the bathroom and performed her ablutions. A closet full of Jareth’s clothes was attached, and she picked through it until she found something suitable. They were close enough in size that it worked. The boots were far too big, so she went barefooted but otherwise wore black leggings and a white shirt with a red and black brocade vest thrown over it. She used the brush on the vanity on her hair, brushing it until it shined and lay straight and glossy against her chest.

Despite the change in clothes and grooming, she still looked like she had just been ravished. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips dark and swollen.

Turning from her reflection, Sarah went into the main room and began to explore, but soon found that the one thing she was looking for, food, was not to be found.

She could smell it, though. Roast meat and fresh-baked bread. Somewhere, not too far away.

But still, she hesitated with her hand on the door that she presumed led to the rest of the castle. What would be out there? She had asked no questions of substance, so caught up in the moment that she had lost herself to Jareth’s arms.

There’s no way out but through, she reminded herself, turning the carved golden handle, the door swinging inward on silent hinges.

Revealing two guards stationed on either side, both startled at her sudden appearance. There was a clatter of armored plates as the two snapped to attention. “Your majesty,” they said in tandem.

Sarah stepped through the door and looked between the two. They were goblins but not so short in stature as many of their brethren. Intelligence shone keenly in their expression. About five feet and quite broad, both had wide faces reminiscent of a boar, tusks curling from beneath their upper lips.

The door closed silently and locked. Sarah tried not to look startled by it, raising her voice to ask, “Where can I find the king?”

They glanced at each other, and then the one on the right, in red armor, said, “His Royal Highness is in a court meeting.”

Sarah glanced behind her at a hall that led to a wide staircase down to where she could not discern. “Will you take me there?”

The left, in blue armor, spoke this time. “I can escort you, your majesty.”

It was the second time they had used this honorific, but Sarah did not let her surprise show; she nodded instead. “I would appreciate that.”

The guard led the way, sword swinging at his side, and Sarah tried not to let the surroundings astound her. She had seen precious little of this castle on her last trip to the Underground, and she felt that it had been more of a pre-ordained route, the tourist view of the castle beyond the Goblin City.

This was the real thing.

Portraits and scenic vistas in gorgeous rich oils hung on the walls, and windows open to the cool breeze. Miniature potted fruit trees grew nectarines, pomegranates, peaches, and cherries. Ferns in wide shallow pots at their side made the hall seem like a forest and art gallery combination.

There were benches here and there, but by and large, the area was left clear, the sandy-colored flagstones cold beneath her feet. She could smell food even stronger now, and her stomach growled.

“What’s your name?” she asked her guide after another moment of glancing around.

“Isaac, your grace,” he said, his voice a growl and slurring as he formed the words around his tusks.

Sarah studied the back of his helmet, then asked, “And how long have you served the king?”

“All my life, your grace, as have we all.”

She wondered if ‘we’ meant the goblins or all the court. She did not ask.

They finally finished with the corridor of fruit trees and art for the hall to expand into something more like a receiving room, with pillars and columns taking up the space before them. Sarah tried not to be wide-eyed but wanted to marvel at it all. How fantastic it was. How beautiful.

Everywhere were carvings of herbs and flowers, goblins and fairies.

There were people they passed now, too, most of them of the goblin variety. Some were no taller than Sarah’s knee and scurried with a critter quickness that she smiled to see. They all looked busy, and none seemed to notice her. Several carried flagons of wine or casks of beer, and all those who were seemed to be heading in the same direction as her and Isaac.

Tempting though the tray of tarts was carried by a hobgoblin to her right, Sarah did not pluck one off. She was still unsure about fairy food after her previous experience, even though her stomach was screaming at this point for her to feed it.

Sarah had been spending the last several weeks with Karen actively dying in the next room, and though they had the money to hire help, they rarely did. A nurse came once a day for six hours, but the rest of the eighteen had been entirely up to Sarah.

It had been exhausting, and she had spent six hours asleep, usually preferring rest to nourishment.

She had barely eaten for days, and the weeks prior had been like a strict diet.

And after the events of last night?

Sarah had almost convinced herself to go for a tart after all when Isaac stopped outside a wide set of doors. They were shut but opened silently to admit one of the wine bearers. Her escort spoke to the guards standing outside the door, and after they eyed her a little, they nodded and motioned to let her pass.

Lifting her chin and fingering the talisman at her throat that matched the one Jareth wore, Sarah slipped through the doors to find herself at the back of a wide receiving room.

It was massive. More than double the size of her college theater, which sat almost a thousand. Soaring columns dominated the edges, leading to sweeping arches that supported skylights that let the late-day sun shine bright through colored glass.

This was not the throne room Sarah had seen with her friends, which was certainly not the same throne, but there was no denying that was what Jareth was lounging on now.

He had not seen her yet, his head down as he studied a long sheet of parchment. His face was expressionless, but his eyes rapidly moved as he read.

Sarah moved around the back and the room's edges, staying behind the columns. Isaac had left her to it, because he was no longer in sight.

The room was filled with the same-similar creatures as the night before at the bonding ceremony. Some of them were massive, taking up a fifth of the percentage of the available space just on their own. Looking up and up, she found a face that looked as though it were carved from the side of a mountain, with small ruby eyes that fixed on her immediately.

Sarah stared back, and the mountain gave a sidelong smile before returning attention to Jareth.

The Goblin King threw the parchment to the side and spoke loud enough that he could be heard throughout the room, which had excellent acoustics. “The ambassador has brought us a treaty, and I believe it in our best interest to take it.” His gaze cut across the room, and Sarah slid behind a column before it could fall on her. One of the goblins nearest her, standing along the side wall, tilted their head, curious amusement in their yellow eyes. She lifted her finger to her lips silently, and the creature nodded.

Jareth’s voice came again. “The trolls say that they command the mountains now and evermore, but they will allow for the passage of our horde through their realm without resistance. They will even assist us where they can. We will be able to forge ahead with our intended goal.”

Sarah’s ears perked up. What goal? Was this something about what he said last night, about an empire to withstand time?

“This is the last remaining holdout between us and the Summerland. They will not be able to withstand us now.”

There was a general murmur from the crowd, which had been quite still until then. The sound was excited but had an edge of trepidation.

“Some of you doubt, still, after everything? After all I have done to prove that the prophecy is true and that we live in its times?” Jareth laughed, and Sarah shivered. She began to slide around the pillar, catching sight of him again. He was pacing up and down the dais, animated and gorgeous.

Stop getting so distracted.

“The unconquerable will be seized,” The Goblin King said, sounding as though he were quoting something important. “Both in deed and heart.”

There was another murmur from the crowd, and Sarah leaned further around her hiding spot.

“What has happened since she first came to us?” Jareth asked as though he were a professor at a lecture. Or a politician giving a rousing speech. “The Underground has come alive again. Starting with her run, and now? You have come from the woods and glens, the gardens and fields. Tell me, does it look as it does from the sky?”

There was a chorus of shouted responses.

“The winter roses are in bloom!”

“The thousand-year oak is green.”

“The magic is back!”

“We feast, we sing!”

I was wrong, Sarah thought, watching him play the crowd. He’s a general marshaling his forces.

His expression was hard and victorious as he shouted back to them, “And with the prophesized one in our court, who could stand against us?”

“No one!”

“The Summerland is ours!”

“Too long the fae have ruled you all, and why?” Jareth cried. “Because they hold the seat of power, but not with her—” he pointed to Sarah, who jumped as though she had been shot. “At our side.”

The room erupted in noise, but she remained rooted to the spot, staring back at Jareth, who quirked up the corners of his mouth in the slightest of smiles as though he were challenging her.

Well. She had risen to many challenges.

A multi-kingdom war against magical forces where she played a yet-to-be-understood role of great importance?

Not something she had come across before, no, but then…

The only way out is through.

Sarah stood straight and proud, and when the Goblin King made way for her clear, she moved with no haste to his side, taking his gloved hand in hers. They raised them, joined, toward the ceiling.

The court of the Underground lost its mind with raucous cheers, stamping their feet or taking to the air with their excitement.

One burst into flame and combusted instantly, only to erupt naked and screaming happily from the knee-high pile of ash. Those around him slapped him on the back, and he crowed, pumping the air with new pink fists.

A dryad shifted into a tree and back, then stayed in a sort of half-form with a crown of branches at her head, fairies hanging from them and giggling as they did cartwheels and summersaults, sprinkling brilliant glimmering dust. The dryad did not seem to mind and, in fact, seemed to encourage the dangerous little creatures.

When the noise finally died down enough to be heard, Jareth spoke again, his voice thunderous. Their hands were still clasped, lowered now to their sides. “Ours is the right side of history. We will be victorious!”

This time, when the crowd bellowed, Jareth tugged on her hand, pulling her toward the back of the dais his massive gold and silver throne sat on. She eyed it as they passed, noting how similar it was to their pendants. It looked almost alive, as though it could bite.

She wondered if it could.

“Did you think I would not know you were there?” Jareth asked when they had exited through a door to a modest-sized chamber with a table and chairs enough for six people. “I can feel everyone in my kingdom, and I especially want to know where you are.”

“I figured it was a fifty-fifty chance you knew,” she admitted, pulling her hand from his.

He paused and glanced down at her feet, waving his hand to give her a pair of boots the same as his own, but these fit her like second skin. “I should have thought to provide you with a wardrobe,” he mused off-handedly, catching her eye and giving a crooked half-smile.

“Your clothes fit okay. At least I wasn’t wrapped in a sheet.”

Jareth grinned and beckoned her on. They went through the next door into a hall, nodding to the guards, who both bowed.

The hall was wide enough that they could walk side by side, and they did, passing guards along the way who gave tilts of their helmeted heads.

A long rug was sweeping before them, cream with silver and gold designs. Birds and flowers. No windows here, but plenty of artwork to get her eye caught. All the same, her head was buzzing with all that had just transpired.

“What happened back there? I think I need some answers.”

“You shall have them,” Jareth assured her. “I remind you that I requested some of your time, which you have granted. I need some of it now.”

“What does that mean?”

“That we’re at war, precious, and that requires much of a king’s attention.” He stopped them where they were, reaching out to grasp her shoulders. “I can arrange for anything you wish. Do you want books? A tutor so you know more of our history? A guide to the castle? I ask that you wait until this evening, Sarah mine. Then I will be yours, and all your questions can be answered.”

She gazed at him and tried not to feel he was giving her the brush-off.

He had a point. He was royalty. Only—

“You said you were fae, but in there just now you said—”

“Please,” he interrupted. “This evening. Everything. I promise.”

She sighed. “Very well. What about my friends? Can I visit them?”

“Of course. You’ll find Hoggle in the gardens. You,” he gestured to one of the nearby guards, who seemed the least like they were eavesdropping. “Take our lady Sarah to her friend and anything else she asks of you.”

“Sire,” the guard snapped to, bowing deeply and lifting their visor. It was, she was somewhat surprised to see, a human-looking woman with red hair and freckles.

Jareth bent and kissed Sarah, the motion so swift that she barely reacted before he pulled away, smiling regretfully before striding back down the hall the way they had come.

Sarah watched him go for a moment, then turned to her escort. “What do I call you?”

“Neira, your grace.” The woman’s smile was hesitant. “This way to the gardens.”

Neira bowed again and led them further down the hall, though they took one of the first available doors on the left. They had passed many of these along the way, and there was little to distinguish one from the next.

The moment they were through, the scent of food grew thick. Sarah stumbled, her stomach giving a lurch of protest and her body washing over with fatigue that was all lack of fuel. “Wait,” she said, stopping them in a richly appointed sitting room. Where were they? “I need something to eat. Can we make a detour?”

“Of course,” Neira said, inclining her head. She had removed her helmet and had it tucked under her arm, revealing a thick braid of hair and a face that would have been beautiful if not for how many times her nose had been broken and the scars across one brow and down her cheek. “The kitchens are just through here,” she motioned to the next door.

Their noise reached Sarah as soon as they were through and curving down a ramped corridor to the cavern-like kitchens.

Fires dominated either end of the room, with pots and wrought iron apparatus. She would have little clue what to do with sitting near the flickering flames. Long tables where various creatures were hard at work on multiple dishes took up the center of the space, two rows. People called out, “Behind!” or “Hot pot!” as they moved through the room, which almost seemed dance-like.

Neira beckoned at a nearby maid, who curtseyed and gave Sarah a wide-eyed stare. “Our lady requires a meal.”

“A picnic basket, if you have something like that?” she asked, unable to do anything under the stare of the maid and others nearby but standing straight and looking as dignified as possible while her stomach was screaming its complaints. “I’m going to see some friends. It would be nice to share.”

A cook had finally noticed the little group of still people and heard her words. “You shall have all that you require, my liege!” he cried.

The kitchen went quiet for a moment, all eyes on her.

Sarah swallowed.

Then, within a minute, a picnic basket had been prepared with the speed of an assembly line. Small meat and potato pies, apples, cheese, a knife for cutting, a bottle of wine, pastries, sweets, and several other confectionaries, all stuffing the thing full.

Neira took the basket when Sarah reached for it. “I’ll carry it for now, my lady,” she said quietly.

Sarah nodded, clearing her throat to address those who had made it. “I appreciate your efforts.”

The kitchen at large seemed to relax, and as soon as she began to turn back the way she had come, they started back into their bustling work.

Neira paused at the top of the ramp so Sarah could fish out a croissant, tearing into it without much care for the crumbs that fell to the flagstones. She could have eaten a dozen, but this one relieved her hunger. “Sorry,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand as they continued, her mouth full.

The guardswoman smiled and shook her head. “Nothing to worry about, my lady. The gardens are just through here,” she motioned to a wide windowed door, which showed a vast green walled garden, and Sarah pushed through it.

Immediately, she was brought back to the first time she had set foot in the Labyrinth. It had all seemed strange and frightening, yet something about that scent. Magic.

“Sarah?” She turned to find Hoggle hobbling toward her, his expression drawn down. He glanced between her and the guard, then the basket of food. “What’s going on?”

She tried not to be stung. His voice was gruff, as usual, but—“I wanted to say hello. To you, and Ludo, and—”

“Yes, well,” Hoggle brushed off her words. “You didn’t care much for saying hello’s after you conquered the Labyrinth and had your fancy party.”

Sarah withdrew as though she had been slapped. “I—I was fifteen, Hoggle. I didn’t know if…” she glanced at Neira and back to her friend, then decided on the truth. “I was afraid that if I called for any of you, he’d come too.”

Hoggle snorted. “But he came anyway, and you accepted anyway. What were you thinking?”

This time, it was Neira who drew up. “Our lady is prophesized—”

“Piffle,” Hoggle shot back, then motioned at Sarah. “Can you come with me without a guard, or will you have a babysitter?”

She bristled. “I can do as I please.”

Another snort. “So you say. Well, come on. I’ll take you to the others.”

Sarah grabbed the basket, which Neira relinquished after a soft tug. It was heavy but nothing absurd. She slung it onto her arm and nodded. “Thank you. I’ll go with Hoggle from here.”

“You’ll be back by nightfall, my lady?” Neira asked anxiously, her hands twisting before her.

Sarah smiled. “Yes. I’ll send word for you when I arrive.”

Neira bowed, and Hoggle rolled his eyes. “Are you coming or not?”

She followed him, taking a path out of the main part of the gardens and into winding ways of smaller, more secluded landscaping plots. Trees often towered above them, casting them in dappled sunlight, and she thought the gardens were part forest.

“How are Ludo and Sir Didymus?” Sarah asked as they pressed on.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he grunted, keeping a grueling pace.

Sarah frowned at his back. “What’s your problem? If you’re angry with me, out with it.”

“Not here,” he said, glancing around with obvious suspicion at the nearby shrubberies. “You’ll hear my jawing soon enough.”

They veered to the left, straight for one of the walls, but Sarah trusted her friend, and he lifted a wall of ivy to reveal a carved stone door that she pushed open easily.

They stepped into an alleyway, narrow and strewn overhead with laundry lines. Hoggle closed the door with a soft click and, extracting a massive ring of keys, picked the right one and locked the door. “Wouldn’t do to leave that open for just anyone,” he said in his gravelly voice, then reached for Sarah’s hand. “Come on.”

She gladly took it, and her friend pulled her out of the alley into a marketplace bustling with goblins and their kin of all sizes. Fairies buzzed like swarms of flies or locusts overhead, occasionally dipping down to snag a chunk of fruit from an unsuspecting goblin. They would rise triumphantly with the dripping fruit, and Sarah smiled at the display despite herself.

“You always were too taken with fairies and all that,” Hoggle complained, tugging her along.

They passed stall after stall of incredible wares. Some looked like displays of pure refuse, something straight from the piles outside the city walls. But more were glittering copper pots and plates, utensils, and cups. There were jewels and ropes of chain in silver, mostly, but some gold and copper here, too. Piles of pistachios, figs, pomegranates, almonds, heaps of cashews, and barrels of honey. Casks of fine wine and mead, the owners of which were tempting the passers-by with little sample servings. Sarah wanted to reach for one, but Hoggle pulled her onward.

Bolts of fine cloth, silk velvet, lace…

Rows of glistening pastries.

Piles and heaps of ripe fruit.

Everywhere, there were goblins, some of whom seemed to recognize Sarah as they would stop and point, gaping openly at her.

Yet Hoggle pulled her forward, glaring and snapping at those who would stand in their way, and Sarah had the impression that he was far more well-respected than she had ever known.

They left the market and went through part of the city to some more moderate-sized homes. Made of curved stone and four stories tall, this one was narrow but had a tall enough door even for Ludo to get through. “In here,” Hoggle said, pulling his keys out again and unlocking the blue-painted wood. “And be quiet.”

Sarah moved tentatively into the shadowed space. The ceilings were a little low, considering the height of the door, and her hair caught on some cobwebs. She brushed them away, hoping they had been uninhabited, and looked around the little parlor the front hall led to.

Ludo was stretched out on a massive couch that he made look diminutive with his bulk. He was turned away from her, sides rising and falling with deep sleeping breaths.

Sarah smiled to see him but backed out of the room and followed Hoggle’s frantic gestures to the back of the house.

In the back was the kitchen, and Hoggle took the basket from her, doing an inventory of what she had brought. “Very good. This will suit him well. He’s always hungry when he wakes up, and when he’s hungry, he’s foul-tempered.”

“Who, Ludo? He’s not eating all of this, is he?” Her stomach gave an audible growl.

Hoggle laughed and handed her one of the meat pies. “Have one while you can because he’ll eat all this and look for more. I just hope someone stocked the pantry since I last visited.”

He turned to one of the narrow doors set between cabinets of china. Sarah watched him while she took bites of the flavorful pie. It was still warm enough that it steamed when she broke the crust. She forced herself to take small bites and asked, “Where is this place? What’s going on with you and the others?”

“Now you think to ask questions?”

“I always ask questions, but then people give enigmatic answers and distract me with irrelevant conversation,” she cut back, taking another bite that was mostly lamb. It was so well-seasoned that she wanted to groan in appreciation. “So,” she swallowed half her bite. “What is this place, and what’s going on? Talk to me.”

Hoggle mumbled something about impetuous girls and broken promises, head deep in the narrow pantry. She rolled her eyes and tried not to feel stung by the remarks. Then he returned with a satisfied grunt, shuffling over to her and pushing another pastry and a pie in her direction. “We’re well-stocked. Go ahead and have your fill.”

“Well, thank you for inviting me to the food I brought,” Sarah responded blandly, but she finished up the one pie crust before reaching for the next. The one was more like a vegetable samosa, and she could not help a grunt of appreciation. “Are you going to start talking?”

Hoggle pulled a stool out from under the countertop with one foot, then kicked out another and gestured to it. Sarah sat as he did, so they faced each other with the counters bracketing them on either side. “Sir Didymus is upstairs, but he’s probably sleeping, too. Of all of us, I’m the only one that, by and large, escaped Jareth’s wrath after your conquest of the Labyrinth.”

Sarah blinked, then set down her half-eaten pie and reached for the flagon of wine. She uncorked it and took a good swallow, gasping a little as the alcohol burned her throat.

“Tell me everything, Hoggle. Start at the beginning.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

Her friend took his time in starting, pouring himself an ale and devouring several of the pastries before he began, brushing crumbs from his front.

“Where do you think that playbook came from, Sarah? The one that contained the words to defeat The Goblin King?”

Sarah blinked, startled. “What do you mean?”

“You told me to start at the beginning, and I am,” Hoggle said, “Do you remember getting that book? Who gave it to you?”

She frowned, trying to think back. For such an important piece of her history, she had thought about it precious little in the previous years. In fact, she could not remember seeing it again after her run. “Someone gave it to me,” she said slowly. “But I don’t remember who.”

“Yes, you do,” Hoggle insisted. “You were maybe thirteen at the time.”

She had been. She remembered that she had just gotten her first cycle, too, not but the morning someone gave her the book. There was something about the red cover that made her think they knew what had just transpired. And they had given her something else, besides. A music box!

Sarah pulled in a startled breath, “It was you! I remember now. Your hair was ordinary, and you were dressed normal, but that was you.”

Hoggle nodded. “On Samhain. You said to me, it’s not Christmas yet, and it’s not my birthday.”

She continued where he left off. “And then you said, you watch yourself, and turned and left. It was the most baffling thing. I could not make sense of it at the time, but I wanted to keep those beautiful things so badly.”

They had felt like magic.

For all she knew, they were.

She laughed a little, eyes unfocused as memory blossomed. “When all the adults in my life demanded to know where I got them, I told them a friend got them for me before moving away, as an early Christmas present. When they asked who, I made up someone named Kelsey they had never heard of before then. It was my finest piece of acting.”

Hoggle snorted. “They bought it?”

“How could they not? I’m an incredible talent.” She grinned.

Seemingly despite best efforts, Hoggle smiled back. “Oh! There you go again. You have the charisma for it, no doubt. You would be fantastic on stage. Do you sing?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted shyly. “I don’t know if I’m very good.” Then she shook her head, frowning. “We’re getting distracted.” There was the affection she had retained for her friend over the years, but more was growing between them as they sat there speaking to one another. A feeling of personal connection she had been sorely lacking in the Above. “Why was it you who gave me the music box, the book? What was going on?”

Her friend traced the patterns of veins in the stone countertop with his thick fingers. He was studiously not looking at her. “I’m the mayor of The Goblin City, did I ever tell you?”

Sarah laughed, then stopped abruptly. “Wait—you’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious!” He spluttered, finally looking at her. “What? You think I can’t handle being an elected official?”

“It’s not that,” she said hastily. “It’s just—Hoggle, you were peeing in a fountain when I first met you.” She flushed crimson at the recollection.

So did he. “Well, you caught me unawares!”

“You were killing fairies!”

“How many people do you think actually work around here? No many. I have to lead by example, or not a one of this lot would get off their asses.” He snorted, waving a hand. “Regardless, I’m the mayor, and with that comes specific obligations. Between the citizens and the king, there’s me. Or there’s supposed to be. This lot don’t care much for rules and structure, so most of them go to him directly even though it’s a dumb idea—”

“Okay,” Sarah said, raising a hand. “What’s your point?”

He glared at her and she did the same right back. “I was getting there. I was sent to you by Jareth, don’t you see? The Goblin King wanted you the moment he knew you were up there, and he made sure I put The Labyrinth in your path. He gave me the book and the music box to give to you.”

Brow furrowed, Sarah felt frustration rise. “Why? Gods, that’s all I want to understand! Why?”

“You’re the prophesized one,” Hoggle said simply. “Your mother’s family is from the Underground. They can trace their blood all the way back to the Summerland and the fae court at its heart. You are part of them.”

Sarah pulled in a breath. “I’m like him?”

“No, not really. Can you conjure things out of thin air, or teleport from one place to another?” He motioned to the pendant resting at her breast. “Maybe with that you can. No, your family’s line has interwoven with mortals for generations. You’re more human than fae, for certain, but you’ve got a drop or two in your blood. Enough to make magic easier, and perhaps aid you in your run.”

Hoggle went on, “There were signs and portents leading up to your birth, and then it was just a matter of discovering which of the many children born that day was the one we were looking for. When we found out that there was a fae-borne babe, we knew that must be the one. You were thirteen by then. Auspicious. You know how much we treasure that number.”

“So you gave me the book and the music box because you were trying to lead me here?”

“To see if you really could conquer the unconquerable Labyrinth, yes.” He tilted his head. “You conquered it in deed and in heart. You gained the affections of the citizens, the heart of The Labyrinth, and the love of its king, and you won. You won when no one else has.”

Sarah tapped her finger against her bottom lip, then took another long pull of wine. “Okay,” she said, gasping a little at the burn of alcohol. “What the hell is up with that? I won, and then suddenly I’m supposed to, what? Lead an army?” She laughed.

Hoggle looked at her without expression.

She took another drink.

“It’s hard to explain. There is a prophecy—”

“I don’t believe in fate,” she said abruptly. “I don’t believe in destiny, or any of that shit.”

He laughed. “Girl, look where you are. Look what’s happened.”

She did, taking a deep breath of the magic-spiced air. There was the persistent noise of Ludo snoring in the other room, muffled through the various walls, but otherwise all was quiet. Yet, there was no mistaking that she was in the Underground. That this was a place of wonder and fantasy.

Not like the Above, with its taxes and credit scores, death certificates and mortgages. Where she was no one special. She was someone people passed over. She often had been, for careers, grants, school admissions, sports teams… you name it.

In fact, her entire childhood and most of her life had been quite lonely. Toby was her only constant companion for some time, and she had been away at college when—

She did not want to think about that now.

And she hated how unfailingly her thoughts flew to those events.

Wiping away sudden tears, Hoggle frowning at her and opening his mouth to ask something when she said, “Why—”

But was interrupted by a sharp cry, and something furry and somewhat pointed flew into her lap, clasping her around the waist. “My lady! Oh, my lady! It is you!”

Sarah jumped, then laughed as Sir Didymus peeled away and bowed deeply, black nose nearly touching the floor. He was wearing a striped red and white pajama set, a hole cut in the back to make space for his tail. He looked fairly naked without his usual knightly apparel, but Sarah grinned to see him.

“Didymus, how are you?” She slid from the stool and knelt before him, reaching for him to lift him up. “You don’t need to bow to me, silly.”

But Didymus was no longer responding. He was snoring softly, and was beginning to tip to the side when Sarah caught him, alarmed.

She looked at Hoggle. “What is going on?”

“That’s Jareth’s work,” he growled, getting off the stool. “Come on. Didymus tired himself out coming down the stairs. Let’s bring the basket and you can carry him back to bed. We’ll finish our conversation up there.”

Sarah did as she was bid, following Hoggle after he had gathered some food and drink. He led her, carrying the frighteningly light Sir Didymus, up a winding spiral staircase to the third floor. “Why is he all the way up here?” she asked as he lead her to the room at the end of the hall.

“Because it has the best view, and he would tolerate nothing less,” Hoggle said, pushing open the door.

For a moment she was so stunned by what she saw that she forgot she was holding her friend at all, until Hoggle cleared his throat and motioned impatiently to the wide king-sized bed. She lay Didymus out, then went to the window and looked.

The house was situated at the edge of one of the outer walls of the city. And beyond was The Labyrinth, twisting and stretching, changing and moving as she watched. It looked like some great serpent, coils upon coils wrapped one into the next.

The sun was at the horizon, far to the left, and long shadows made the walls of The Labyrinth seem doubled, almost tripled in some places. A cool breeze came through the window and she shivered.

“Jareth was angry that you got away, at the end.” Hoggle said from behind her, close enough that she knew he had left the bed and was standing just behind her. “You had already won, already fulfilled the terms of the prophecy. Your brother was safe. At the end, he tried to get you to say, but used the wrong words, I think.” He sounded happy about this, though she had the feeling that he was ignorant of what had truly transpired between her and Jareth at the end. “It was good that you conquered him, too. He deserved it, but…”

Sarah glanced at him as his words trailed into silence. “But he punished them?”

“Yes,” Hoggle said, staring up at her. “Because I’m mayor, I was spared, in a manner of speaking, but… I don’t trust him. Don’t trust that he would keep his word if I gave myself up in their place. It’s because I told the others, the city, that he should step down. He was beaten. He should have stepped down, but the bastard is stubborn”

She paled, imagining Jareth’s wrath against someone who had been so vocally against him. She may not know him entirely well, but she knew him enough to see that as the misstep it was. “What did he do?”

“Put a sleeping curse on them both. He is master of dreams, after all. They tell me about all manner of them when they wake. It’s all they can talk about. That and you.”

A pain spiked through her chest, and Sarah turned back to the view. “I’m sorry, I should have called—”

“Yes, you should have,” Hoggle agreed. “But what’s done is done. Now he has you, and he’ll have everything else he’s ever wanted. I was so close to getting him pushed out, too. He was almost to the full thirteen hundred years.” His words turned into a growl at the end, and he jerked his chin toward the door. “Come on. I’ll take you back to the castle. It’s starting to get dark.”

“What can I do, Hoggle?” she asked as they descended the stairs. “I’m his betrothed,” she stumbled over the word. “Maybe I can get him to—”

“Don’t trust him, Sarah,” Hoggle turned to her, gaze beseeching. “Whatever he is becoming to you, he’s a fae first, and they play games and tricks like they breathe.

Whatever he is becoming to you, echoed in her mind, and she gave pause.

What was The Goblin King to her?

Sarah’s heart seemed to swell with the thought of him, and she could not deny that there was something there. Some kind of pull. “What does Jareth have to do with the prophecy?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Hoggle said with a snort. “It’s only about you, and what you will do. But none of us know the full contents, the full meaning, because it was written in the language of the gods, and only the fae know how to read it.”

“You’re all following a prophesy none of you understand?”

“We understands it plenty!” Hoggle shot back, yanking open the front door and striding through, leaving her to scurry after him. “It’s just that it’s not exact, the translation.”

“So, tell me what it says,” she insisted, keeping apace with him even though he walked faster than he had any right to. “In your words.”

“No,” Hoggle said, voice and expression stubborn. “When you get back to the castle, find a copy. They have a great many books in the library.”

She looked sidelong at him. “Hoggle… you do know it, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

He was quiet for a long time. “I can read and write enough,” he said. “But that thing is hard to recite, to remember. It slips out of your mind. Maybe you, with your fae blood, will have a better time with it.”

That gave her pause.

They were most of the way back to the market before she spoke again. “Why would you do it? Help bind me to him, if you hate him as much as you do?”

“I don’t hate him, I just don’t trust him,” Hoggle argued. “I certainly don’t trust him with you.”

She flushed at that.

“He’s self-serving,” her friend went on. “He’ll do whatever it takes to reach his objective, and I don’t even know what that truly is. I doubt he’s shared it with anyone.”

“What’s he telling everyone else?”

“That he wants to free us. That he was treated as unfairly as we’ve been, and so he knows how oppressive the yoke of the fae rule is.” Hoggle laughed and motioned her into the alleyway they had come through before. This time there was a guard standing at the entrance, who gave them both a quick once-over before nodding and stepping out of the way. “That’s enough that most believe him, or enough to make them want it enough. Some of these idiots think he’s some kind of savior.” He snorted and fished his keys out of his belt of many pockets. “Really he just wanted to remain in power. That’s why he bound himself to you. Because of the power you represent.”

She remembered what he had said earlier, though. “You said he loves me.”

“He thinks he does.” Hoggle stopped flipping through the keys and stared at her. “Do you?”

She shook her head, but her stomach twisted. “I barely know him.”

“Keep it that way, Sarah. You don’t want to love a creature like that.”

“Do you think he’s evil?” Sarah asked after he turned his attention back to the task at hand. Her voice was a mere whisper.

He paused with the key in the door. “No,” he said softly after a time. “But I don’t think he’s good, either.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

Sarah was waiting in Jareth’s rooms when he arrived, close to the thirteenth hour on the clock. The windows were open wide to let in the crisp air, and she sat near the fire, basking in its glow, staring into the flames and thinking of all that Hoggle had shown and told her that day. So entranced with the flickering, dancing fire, she barely noticed him until he was within range of the light it cast.

Though she did not jump, her pulse sped, and for more reasons than one.

He was so devastatingly beautiful.

The Goblin King had done away with his formal jacket and his vest hung open, shirt slit to belly to reveal a wide expanse of flesh that her eye fell to immediately. “Good evening, my betrothed,” Jareth murmured. “How do you fare?”

His voice was melodic. Comforting.

She glared at him.

“That well, hm?” He laughed and slid into the chair opposite her, stretching his legs out before him as he settled, sighing. “What did our illustrious mayor tell you?”

“Were you going to tell me Hoggle runs The Goblin City?” she asked, words biting.

“I wouldn’t say he runs it,” Jareth argued, voice smooth. “More that he manages it for me.” He smiled that cutting smile of his, eyes roving down her figure. “And we had more important things to talk about.”

Sarah tried not to squirm. His words and the way he said them had an effect, damn it all.

She had returned to the only rooms she knew of once back at the castle, and there Sarah had found a new closet adjacent to the one she had explored earlier. This one, however, had clothes suited precisely to her.

She had selected a silk velvet gown in copper, with sleeves that ended at her elbows and a neckline that plunged attractively. The pendant hanging at her breastbone looked both decadent and deadly. In the light of the fire she positively glowed, and she tried to use that to her advantage. I’m not the only one affected by what’s between us.

Jareth had his head cradled in one hand, watching her, his fingers cupping his chin as though he were contemplating a sculpted masterpiece. She would be a fool not to see the longing in his gaze.

You can’t let yourself get distracted, she chided herself. “I need you to tell me in your own words why you selected me, and for what purpose it was, truly.”

Jareth clicked his tongue against his teeth. “What tales did Hoggle spin?” When she did not respond readily he sighed and straightened in his chair. “Very well.”

He gestured to the table by his side and there appeared a dark red wine that he began to drink straight from the bottle. Settling back into the chair, he motioned at the fire, which grew in warmth and brilliance for a moment before settling back down, more wood amongst the embers. Magic peppered the air.

“I was not always Goblin King,” he started. “That title was bestowed upon me thirteen hundred years ago. The number is important.

“After that number of years the Goblin King traditionally steps down or finds a Queen, a betrothed who can extend his reign. The Labyrinth itself must approve. So far, in all the years that there have been Goblin Kings, there have not been any who were lucky enough to have one annointed by the Labyrinth as Champion and, therefore, worthy.

“I will also note that the previous kings were goblins or other denizens of the Underground, every one. I am the first fae. You are the first Champion there ever was. I do not believe either of these facts are coincidence.

“So there is that, Sarah mine. That is reason one but, like many marriages, this is not one I undertake for a singular reason.” His eyes glimmered in the low light. “When you conquered the Labyrinth and rejected me, you were showered with magic. Some from the Labyrinth, and the rest from Faerie itself. You were given trial and found deserving, where legions have failed in the past.

“And that is the second reason I want you. Faerie bestowed upon you a gift, and that gift can be leveraged. Already, your link to this realm helps the flowers bloom and the rivers rise. The moon spins her dance yet again. We have been fading slowly, ever since magic was bound. The world comes alive, because of you.

“Because every time you make a wish, or further strengthen your bond with me, you bring forth more. You are Champion, and you are a conduit.”

He fell silent for some time, tapping his leather-clad fingers on the neck of the wine bottle. “I want you because you are beautiful.” The words were soft-said, and his gaze was on her still, unfocused a little while he continued on. “And kind. Stubborn. Capable. Delightful in bed.”

Sarah could not help but give a soft snort of laughter.

“For what purpose do I want you?” He sighed and leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Does it change anything between us?”

“It might,” she admitted.

His eyes rolled up to her. “There is an explanation for what I’m about to say. I ask that you give me time to tell it.”

Her stomach twisted.

Jareth took a breath. “I want you because I need that power you can tap into. Your coming was foretold. We have the words of a prophet-god who spoke of your arrival millennia ago, when the worlds were both new and magic fresh seeded.

I need the power of your wishes, the ones you have been gifted by Faerie, in order to release magic from the shackles the fae have levied over it for the last several millennia. There will come a moment, likely not too long from now, when you will make a final wish. When you do, I ask that you use the words I am going to tell you now; that the magic be freed.”

Sarah pulled in a breath, skin prickling. “What do you mean, a final wish?”

“You have thirteen of them, precious. You’ve used one. There will be times in the coming campaign you may find need to use others, but you must be careful. Your words have a particular power here. The wish you made before I came to you was that you wanted to know more.

“And since you have come to the Underground, have people not been most accomodating to tell you their stories? To tell you of the world? You are learning more because your wish is working through us, just as it is now working through me. There have been few times in my long lifetime that I have wanted to speak so freely and so at length with another. It is part your wish, part who you are.”

She was quiet, but she felt the truth in his words. They echoed what Hoggle had told her earlier. Though his delivery had been quite different.

“He just wanted to remain in power. That’s why he bound himself to you. Because of the power you represent.”

Nodding at the memory, Sarah asked, “And what happens after the last wish? The thirteenth?”

“I don’t know,” he said, the words flat. “No one has won the laurels of Faerie the way you have.” He made as though to reach for her, but then took another swig from the wine instead before setting the bottle down. “There were many reasons I asked you to give me your mortality. I am hoping that it will preserve you.”

Now the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and her lips tingled. “Preserve me?”

“Magic has a cost. It has since the fae took their turns being masters of the wellspring, which they have never abdicated.” He gave a grunt of frustration, hand cutting through his hair. “There are thousands of years of history to contend with here, and you are—I am sure you are the one that has long been prophesized to end the reign of the fae.”

She could not help the next question that spilled from her lips. “How is it that you are fae but you’re going against them?”

This time Jareth’s smile was slow to come and viciously sharp. “I broke the rules. I was banished, and ascended the throne of the Goblin Kingdom and The Labyrinth a century later. This was the only territory allowed to me. This and the endless wastes outside our walls, and I had no desire to be some sage of the desert.” He gave a soft snort. “No, my desire is to seize what was taken from me. To release magic from its cage. To let all pull from its bounty.”

“Including you,” Sarah pointed out.

“Including me,” he agreed, rising from his seat. “Without the balance needing to be paid, with magic free, you are far more likely to survive the weeks to come. We are going to war, precious. Starting in two days we will march with the goblin armies toward the Summerland, and the wellspring at its heart.

“We are outmatched, except that we have you and your wishes. You can ensure we win this, and that magic is freed for all, if you use your right words.” He crossed to her, kneeling on the carpet at the foot of her chair. “The prophecy states the last wish will be spoken at the wellspring. I believe you must be within its sight in order to undo the immense binding it is under. We are marching to get you there.”

Sarah’s breath caught, her pulse high once more. Her head was swimming with what he was telling her, and how it fit alongside segments of Hoggle’s story. Several things locked into place. “Do you think I’ll get hurt, or die, when I use my last wish?”

Jareth hesitated, but his gaze did not leave hers. “I desperately hope not, precious, but—if magic remains constant in the regard of the balance, then yes. It has been so long since magic has been wild and free, no one now remembers what it was truly like, and if the balance was extracted in other, less obvious ways. The fae who originally bound the wellspring are most long-dead. Some still guard it, I’m told.”

“Why did they bind it?”

“To control it. To keep it theirs. Magic is easy for someone like me. Fae bound the wellspring to the species. They made us dominant. The apex predators of Faerie. Though the creatures of the Underground possess a sort of innate magic, they cannot use it for spell and crafting and the manipulation of the material world. Not the way I can, or you with your wishes.”

Jareth reach out and set a hand on her knee, giving it a soft squeeze. “I do not want you to die, Sarah. I want you to live long with me, here, and to see these halls filled with our children, if you wish it as well.”

Something burned in his eyes, and her throat was dry as she swallowed. “I haven’t thought about anything like that.” And it seemed silly to do so now, when there may not be a future.

There were still questions she needed answers to, but more than that she needed to talk to him. Properly.

Her words were choked. “I haven’t thought about so many things, Jareth, I—with Toby, and then with dad? I barely made it through college after having to postpone and then…”

She reached for him, and Jareth clasped her hand in his, the linen of his gloves warm as second skin. She was looking at him without seeing him, but she could feel him everywhere. His fingers linked with hers, the drumbeat of his pulse against her palm, the incense and magical scent of him. Hoggle’s words repeated in the back of her mind. Whatever he is becoming to you.

Whatever The Goblin King was becoming to her, she would not deny it. She spoke the words closest to the surface of her heart and mind. “Do you know how they died?”

“Yes,” Jareth said, simple.

Sarah spoke about it anyway, the words feeling as though they poured from her, something that had long needed a release. “Toby was eight, playing with one of his soccer balls that got away from him… and our street has that blind hill. We still don’t know who hit him. The paramedics declared him dead at the scene, and the rest was history.

“Dad shut down. I thought he had been rid of me before, when I was a teenager, but this? He was gone. My mother had died only a month before that, you know? And when it was Toby, it felt like her times a million. I thought I would die alongside them both. I barely remember that year.

“Then dad succumbed, on the first anniversary of Toby’s passing. Karen swore until her dying breath that it was an accident, but witnesses say he drove into that river. He didn’t try to get out of the car as it flooded. People tried to help him and he sat there looking forward, not moving, as it got pulled under. Their words.”

She gave a little laugh. “It was a bit of a family drama, trying to get the church to grant their approval to have him buried in their cemetery. Some people wanted to declare it a suicide, after all. It never officially was. Karen made sure the official death report stated it as a drowning, nothing more.”

There were several long beats of silence as the fire crackled and snapped, throwing sparks up the chimney. “I can feel the pain of it still holds you,” he said quietly.

“Jareth…” she re-focused on him. “Did you have anything to do with any of it?”

His fingers convulsed around hers. “No, lover, though I know who killed your brother.” He gave another of those cutting smiles that made him look more villain than hero. “I ensured she was taken care of.”

She blinked. “Who was it?” she breathed.

“A drunk,” he said, tone dismissive. “Name of Caroline Agger, and she no longer breathes upon the worlds. I ensured that.”

Sarah squeezed his fingers back. “So, you watched me, even though you weren’t supposed to? I thought you said you weren’t allowed. Thirteen years, was it?”

“I rarely do as I’m told,” he said with another smile. “And you are too precious to lose sight of. I made sure that someone had eyes on you at all times, and events were reported back to me. As I told you before, you were never alone. Even Hoggle took a turn or two.

“But I also used my crystals, to indulge in a glance at your face. I caught enough of your life, between it and the stories I heard, to know well what you have undergone. The sorrow you hold for your mother, brother, and your father… it calls to me. I want to pull it from you.”

“And what would you do with my sorrow?”

“Drink deep of its bitterly cold depths. I would be drunk for days.” He pulled on her hand, and she leaned forward. “What else did Hoggle say to you?”

She let his hand go so she could weave her fingers through his hair. He made a low sound. “That you punished my friends for helping me through The Labyrinth during my run. That you would have punished Hoggle much the same, except his station gave him some protection. He told me that you won’t release the curse unless Hoggle agrees to undergo it in their stead.” She gripped the back of his neck. He had gone quite still. “Is that true?”

“I have sworn upon my heart’s blood I will not release them until he goes in their stead, yes,” Jareth said slowly. “It was a hasty decision, I recognize this in recent years, but I was quite thoroughly humiliated. Hoggle has been screaming for me to abdicate ever since you conquered The Labyrinth. He has proclaimed that I am no longer worthy, as I was conquered, too.”

She slipped from the chair to kneel on the floor so they were more of a height, the line of their bodies much closer. The heat coming off him was like its own fire. “Were you?”

“Conquered? By you?” He tilted his head. “What do you think?”

Her hands rested on his chest, now, and she could feel the pounding of his heart beneath her spread fingers. Those eyes were keeping a close watch on her, his expression giving nothing away. The question hung between them. “I don’t think so,” she said softly, barely breathing the words.

Jareth began peeling off his gloves. “I will admit you defeated me, but conquered? Even when the fae council itself banished me, they did not conquer me.”

Watching him expose his hands, Sarah asked, “Why were you banished?”

The Goblin King sighed and touched her face. She leaned into it, her eyes half-closing. She was not tired, but, oh, did she love this sensation. Skin to skin. No one had ever touched her like this. Certainly not her parents, and neither of her previous lovers. The closest she had come was the pure, innocent affection of Toby when he was very young. There were friends who had hugged her over the years. No one had treasured her quite this way, touching her whenever possible.

It made her feel infinitely less alone.

“That story is one that is hard to tell,” Jareth said. “May I ask for more time, Sarah mine? I will tell you, and soon, but I think the night has wore on long as it is.”

Glancing at the clock, which showed a quarter passed one in the morning, she nodded. “I take back my last question. But, Jareth, I need you to let my friends go. Remove that curse. It’s not fair. Ludo wakes up maybe once a month now, Hoggle says, and Didymus is barely any better. When they wake they talk of endless dreams, and I know—”

“I vowed, precious,” Jareth said, his gaze intense. “I cannot go against a vow to my own heart’s blood. But you?” His hand fell to the pendant at her breastbone, and when he stroked it she felt a sizzle of magic along her skin. “You have eleven wishes before the last. I would not deny you use of one to help your friends, even with the war looming.”

Her throat went tight and eyes burned a little with unshed tears. “You mean that?”

“Just be careful of your wording, Sarah mine.” He ran a lock of her hair through his fingers, and gooseflesh rose down her arms and back. “Think carefully.” He grinned at her. “Sleep on it? With me?”

Nodding, Sarah leaned forward and caught his mouth. He let out a little laugh first, and then sighed into the kiss.

Jareth pulled away first. “You just heard,” he said between her chasing him for more kisses. “That your entire life, mmph,” he leaned into that one, and they lost themselves for a moment. “Is upended,” he gasped when they pulled apart, and this time he held her back by the shoulders. “You are remarkeably calm considering all that you’ve learned.”

She stared at him, her lips throbbing, but pulled back, settling onto her heels. “It’s like I was saying earlier, I have rarely thought about the future. There was too much happening, too much loss and trauma.” Giving a little laugh she asked, “What did you think I was going to do with the inheritance left to me from Karen? All the remained after the illness?”

Jareth tilted his head but said nothing, reaching for her hands instead and entwining their fingers. She adored the sensation of his naked flesh against hers.

“I was going to sell everything and throw a dart at a wall map, and go where it told me.” She grinned at his confused expression. “I had no idea what I wanted. I had no more ambitions. Everything died with Toby, and then dad.”

But the world is starting to look like it has color again, thanks in part to you.

She did not say that out loud. Instead, she said, “Everything was on pause, Jareth. I don’t want to die, I really don’t, but I’m not—I wasn’t living.”

“Oh, Sarah.” He let out a great sigh, and crushed her to him.

Sarah tucked her face against his neck and inhaled deeply.

Then she pushed him to the floor.

Jareth was laughing as his shoulder blades hit the piles of carpet and furs before the fire. Sarah slid over him, her dress riding down a little so her breasts spilled out. His laughter died, and she grinned. “Hello, lover.” She paused in the act of pulling up her dress. “Is having sex with you making magic?”

“In a manner of speaking, and only when tied to certain events, precious. We were fresh-bonded and consummating last night, which meant something. Tonight is simply for pleasure, if you will have me.”

She finished pulling up the long drape of fabric. She had chosen not to wear underwear. His hand slipped under the piles of velvet to find her soaked. Giving out a quiet hiss, Sarah rode down on the press of his fingers, fumbling a little as she freed him to her touch.

There was some resistance—she was wet but not quite ready—but it made the sensation all the sharper as she rode down on him. His hands went to her hips, gripping her and the fabric of the dress. “Don’t rip it, please,” she gasped, then moaned as he seated fully in her, his length hitting parts of her she had not realized could bring her such pleasure.

Jareth gave a grunt of frustration, and she felt a sprinkling of magic a moment later, as both their clothes disappeared, leaving them naked but for twin pendants around their necks. Sarah did not hesitate but started to move over him, watching the play of shadow and light from the fire across his lovely face and chest, his arms and hands as he held, petted, and gripped her tight.

Relaxing around him, Sarah called his name when Jareth began to thrust up and into her, holding her hips in place as he did so. It felt as though she might come apart, and then she did with a sharp cry and a rush of wetness that made Jareth grin and fuck her all the harder.

He flipped them, grinding her into the thick furs. It was entirely too decadent, with the warm glow and heat from the fire, and the sensation of being filled, over and over, her pleasure cresting not just once but twice more before his mouth covered hers. His hips crashed into her, her legs wrapped tight around him, several more times and then went still while she trembled.

Arms clutched around him, Sarah let the kiss linger and deepen. Tongues carressing, breath mingling, and all the while he twitched and flexed inside her still-sensitive flesh.

She had never experienced anything quite like this.

Abruptly, though, she pulled away. “Shit, Jareth—I missed my pill. At least once, maybe twice by now.”

His brow furrowed and he pulled away from her enough that he could roll to the side, between her and the fire. “A pill? Why does this have you so concerned?”

“It’s birth control, ass,” she said, touching his chest without conscious thought. She did not want to stop holding him, touching him. Her core clenched with further need, even though there washed a cold fear through her at the thought of what she had done. She had not missed one of her pills in more than five years. “I don’t want to get pregnant right now.”

Jareth let out a laugh. “Do you think I would impregnate you without your consent? No, lover, that will be something you decide. You have nothing to fear from me until that day.”

Now it was her turn to frown. “What are you talking about? You’re on something as well, or—”

“No, I’m not taking a potion or tincture of any sort,” he said, grasping her hand and laying a kiss across the knuckles. “But I am a magical being. We decide when we become fertile. I haven’t seen the need yet.” He pushed off the floor and then bent and lifted her into his arms. She let out a little surprised sound, but then he was carrying her bride-like to the bathroom. “As I said, you have nothing to fear from me.”

He bathed and dried her as he had the night before, and by the time they curled into bed Sarah was yawning fiercely. She could hear night birds, crickets, and frogs singing and calling in the gardens far below their windows.

Jareth pulled her to him, wrapping his arms snug around her waist.

“Will you wake me when you wake?” she asked. “I don’t have my alarm.” Not that she thought it would work in Faerie.

“I rise with the sun, precious,” he warned. Then sighed when she did not respond. “I will do as you ask.”

“Thank you.”

He kissed the top of her head.

She yawned again, back of her hand to her mouth. “Jareth? You said last night that you were glad it was me. What did you mean?”

“Mm,” he murmured, waving a hand that dimmed the lanterns to nothing, plunging the room deep into shadows. She closed her eyes, settling further against him. “Let me show you the prophecy in the morning, Sarah mine, and you will see what I meant.”

She nodded, feeling his exhaustion as well as her own. Both of their bodies were relaxing more and more every moment.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

Jareth splayed fingers along her bare stomach, and Sarah made a small noise, her awareness beginning to come around as lips trailed along her collarbone. Fine hair tickled the skin of her neck and chest. Her eyes fluttered open to find weak blue-tinged dawn sunlight filling the bedroom.

And the Goblin King was kissing down her belly, hands parting her thighs. She gasped when his mouth came down on her core, tongue teasing her lips apart before dipping and stroking against her clit. “Fuck!” she cried, legs shaking as he feasted upon her.

Jareth took his time. Coaxed her, teased her, and brought her to crashing orgasm not just once but thrice before he pulled back, looking intensely satisfied and raw, his lips and chin glistening. He grinned at her, his cock standing tall between them. “More?”

Panting, Sarah could only nod.

Jareth grasped her hips and pulled her closer, flipping her so that her ass was raised toward him. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, palms rubbing her cheeks and hips. Fingers dipped into her, and he made a satisfied sound. “And always so incredibly wet.”

“For you,” she said, pressing back against that pressure. It was not enough.

He chuckled, prodding at her entrance with the head of his cock. She moaned at the pressure. “Is that so precious? Are you wet—” he began to press into her. “Only for me?” He seated in her, his hands rubbing along her hips and waist and thighs, gripping her tight.

Sarah writhed, and her hips moved, fucking him as surely as he was about to fuck her. “Gods,” she gasped. “You know it, Jareth, please…”

Her words trailed off with a moan as he began to rock into her, increasing their friction. He began to take her, his body bending over hers as his hips crashed against her ass again and again.

Sarah cried his name, and Jareth snarled. She knew that he liked it, and she did it again, his tightening grip the only precursor she had to the sudden increase in wetness between her thighs.

But he did not stop, even as he came panting, his cock still thick between her thighs. “I know you have more for me,” he whispered, and she whimpered as he left her for a moment before he pulled her to the edge of the bed.

Sarah stopped him when he was standing, and she was still sitting on the edge of the mattress, her mouth wrapping around his cock and sucking him clean of their combined spend. Jareth petted her hair while she licked him, whispering sweet words, telling her how much he liked seeing her lips around him.

She had never been spoken to like this. Never treated thus.

Jareth pulled her to a shaking stand, his hand plunging into her hair to tilt her face to his. His mouth slanted over hers, tongue tasting and twining. She wrapped her arms around his neck and was startled when he moved to lift her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist, the heated press of him thick between them.

“How are you still hard?” she whispered when they broke apart.

He slid along her folds, and she wiggled. “How are you still wet?” he retorted. “Because we are meant to do this, precious. You were destined for me. I believe that.”

She shook her head, but he did not seem interested in discussing anything. He walked them to the wall nearest the window, pressing her against the folds of the drapes that hung there. Her next cries he smothered with his mouth, all while fucking her in sight of the gardens and the twisting walls of the Labyrinth beyond. Sarah wrapped her legs around him and squeezed tight, causing him to gasp.

Palming a breast, Jareth ground into her several more times before going still. She could sense his end, and it gave her over to her own. Shuddering, she stared at the painted and carved ceiling, chest heaving.

“Okay,” Sarah breathed, licking her lips. “I need to go to the bathroom. And get water. I love—this, but I need a break.”

“Of course, precious,” he murmured, kissing her neck before grazing the flesh with his teeth, pulling back with a smile. “I’m afraid you have quite the grip on me.”

Sarah laughed and relaxed, allowing him to slip from her. He steadied her as she got back on her feet, legs trembling from exertion and the remnants of multiple orgasms. This was new, too. The consideration. Knowing that she might need his help and giving it without being asked.

She pulled away from him before her thoughts led to something else that would have them in a tangled heap. There was a little wobble to her step as she went to the bathroom, but she was steady by the time she returned.

Jareth had a tray of coffee waiting, lounging naked as he took his own with three cubes of sugar.

“Sweet tooth?” she teased, fixing her own without going for a robe or other covering first. She was more conscious of it than she expected he was, but she enjoyed his eyes on her. And they were, his gaze fixed over the rim of his still cup.

The Goblin King shook himself and drained the rest of his drink before setting it down and springing to his feet. “How do you feel about jewelry?”

She fingered the pendant at her breastbone. “Other than this, I haven’t worn anything since giving up my ring and bracelet when running the Labyrinth. People have given me pieces over the years, but none of it was… it did not spark my interest.”

That seemed to spark his. “A taste for the luxurious, my love?” She startled a little at the affectation, but he continued like he did not notice, though she did not doubt he had. “I want to show you the treasury and let you pick from it a gift. I want to see what interests you so I know what to give you in the future. It’s also where I keep the best copy of the prophecy pertaining to you.”

Sarah perked up at that. “You’re going to show it to me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? If you are not willingly doing this, it will not work. You must know everything, and to that end, I intend to tell you all.” He smiled. “Though, there are other things to occupy some of our time, don’t you think?”

She flushed, setting her half-drunk coffee down on the table before stepping up to him and placing a palm on his chest. “You’re the one,” she slid her hair over her shoulder, looking up at him as she did so. “Who keeps starting things? I’m only human.”

“And you cannot help but succumb because I am too fae, too exotic and erotic to resist?” He lifted a brow. “Please. I saw you through the years, Sarah. You had many who sought your attentions.”

She blinked. “Who? I’ve only had two lovers.”

Now, it was his turn to look confused. “Only two?”

“And one was a one-night stand. He ghosted me afterward.” She explained at Jareth’s confused look, “He stopped responding, completely disappeared out of my life. I never saw him or spoke to him after we had sex.” Her fingers flexed against his flesh, and she dropped her hand, brushing against his talisman as she did. There was a thrum of responding magic, and she tilted her head. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

“No, precious one. I would not have intentionally caused you pain,” Jareth murmured, cupping her face with one hand while pulling her closer with the other. “I cannot fathom it. You are stunning. The rarest of jewels.” His expression darkened. “Who were they?”

“I’m not giving you their names so you can go on some kind of male revenge fantasy against them.” She smiled despite her words and twirled a lock of his hair with her finger. “Maybe it’s a good thing. It makes me appreciate you all the more.”

He flashed a smile. “I have hardly given you the attention and time you deserve, Sarah mine. But, the gods willing, that will change.”

They did end up in a tangled heap, after all. Sarah was the one who started it this time, catching his mouth and holding him tight against her. When he thickened between them, she went to her knees and took him in her mouth until he begged her to stop, to let him take her.

Sarah had never felt so wanted. Never so full.

He sat on one of the wingback chairs while she straddled him back to front, and he held her while she squirmed over him. His fingers caressed her, his voice hot in her ear, and his length pressed so deep she thought she might come apart entirely. She came several times before his end was upon them, and he gripped her tight, flexing within her sore and swollen depths.

She swore softly, then started to laugh. “I’ve had sex with you more times than the rest of my life combined.”

Jareth grunted. “I feel as though I should offer you a variety of known skilled lovers so that you can taste the delights to be had with them.” His grip tightened further. “But I will not. I am yours, yes, but you are mine.”

Sarah wiggled until he released her enough so she could turn, straddling his waist, her hands on his shoulders. She stared at him from inches away as he looked up at her, his expression almost… expectant. She breathed deeply, smelling the scent of their coupling. Magic and sweat and something wholly the two of them. Thumb brushing the side of his neck, she swallowed hard, then asked, “Do you love me?”

That damned head tilt. “What do you think?”

She frowned at him. “A straight answer, please?”

He sighed. “Very well.” His hands traveled from her hips to her waist, settling there. “Of course I love you,” he said, the words soft. “What no one knew—but too many people know—is that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl. Isn’t that what was written in your playbook?”

“That’s just a book,” she pointed out. “And I didn’t know until yesterday that it had come from here. From you. Why would you send me something that admitted such a thing?”

“Because I sent you what, to me, was a blank book. It filled the moment you touched it with the story that would draw you to the Underground. That was what it was spelled to do.” He squeezed her waist. “And you, my dear girl, needed to know you had power and were loved. Even if it were forbidden and from afar. That it happened to be true, well, that’s my fault. I saw your heart and could not help but want it.”

Jareth placed a hand over her heart, pressing down, his fingertips brushing her pendant and sending sparks of sensation through it. She watched him, but his gaze was on her chest.

“Sorrow and heartache draw a fae like the sweetest wine,” he murmured. “And you have it in spades. Even though so many were around you, you were almost always considered last. Always alone.”

She tensed, and he made a shushing noise, rubbing a hand up and down her arm, the motion soothing.

“No more, beloved,” he promised, finally rolling his eyes to look at her. “I will ensure you know where you stand now and for as long as you’ll have me. You have possessed me, thought and spirit, human though you may be. I would have no other. And I will crown you queen at my side, as the Labyrinth wants you, too. As do our people. You are meant to be adored and feared. And, yes, to be clear, I do love you.”

Sarah pressed a shaking kiss to his lips, his hand still pressed to her chest. Her heart beat hard against that pressure, and she could feel her pulse in her mouth against his. “What would you do with this?” she whispered when she pulled away, hand over his to accentuate her point.

He glanced back down to where her chest heaved from their activities. “Treasure that it is? I would nurture this heart, precious, and watch as it beat with joy and lust, love and adventure, instead of in sorrow and mourning.” He licked his lips, and something in his expression changed. “Let me take some of it from you, Sarah. I would drink your grief, old and new. I’ll take only a little, so you know what it might be if lifted entirely.”

It seemed strange to her that any creature, fae or otherwise, would hold so much reverence for the darker parts of her memory and nature. Tilting her head, mirroring his previous movements, Sarah asked, “What about the grief that calls to you?”

He made a small noise. “Do you know how many have died that I have known? Few, Sarah. In more than two thousand years, I have been touched by grief just once. It is a rarity, and we prize what is rare.” His blunted nails pressed into her skin. “It is why many fae have lost their heads for humans over the centuries. You burn so bright, so fierce, we cannot help but want to get closer, no matter the danger.”

“What danger is that?”

 “To love the temporary.” He grinned. “That’s why I have your mortality. One of the reasons. I do not want you to expire when I am so invested.”

She chuffed, fingers exploring where he still held her heart, tracing the seams and knuckles of his hand, the motion subconscious. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Would I lie?”

This time, she laughed. “There are stories in my world that the fae cannot lie, but that sounds like something the fae would make up to make dealing with us a little easier. So, yes, I think you can lie. Are you going to tell me you don’t?”

“I try to avoid it.” He said, smiling still. “Honesty keeps things simple. I have lived long and done many things. To lie about any of them would complicate much.” His free hand caressed her waist. “I am not lying when I tell you how I feel about you. I adore you. Now,” he pressed even more against her chest. “Will you let me take of your sorrow?”

She held her breath for a moment, considering. Then said, “Just a bit.”

“Only a sip, precious one.”

Jareth leaned forward, his lips ghosting along her throat. She tensed, thinking he was going to bite her, but instead, he lay an open-mouth kiss, and when he pulled back—

A gossamer-thin thread linked him to her, from his mouth to her neck. It shimmered like ink and liquid gold, but before she could examine it further, he sucked it into his mouth, and she—

The relief.

Sarah sagged against him, and his arms were around her as tears coursed down her cheeks. There had been a pressure, a lump in her throat for years, ever since Toby, and now, it was like she could breathe again. Swallow freely. Each lungful of air was sweet, pure, and—oh. Oh. She could sense it now, where her body held onto her pain, and every inch of it cried out for that same reprieve.

“Are you alright, love?” Jareth whispered, his words slightly slurred but his grip just as tight. “It was just a little, I promise.”

“I know,” she breathed through her tears. Despite that, they fell. She was light. Lighter than she had any right to be. “I want it all gone, Jareth, but… not yet.”

She did not know why, only that she could not part with her grief all at once. It seemed wrong.

He hummed and swayed a little.

Pulling back, Sarah frowned at the sloppy grin Jareth flashed her. “Were you being serious? This stuff makes you drunk?”

“Oh. Yes,” he said, enunciating his words slowly. “Quite. But I still want to show you the treasury and the prophecy. I am not so far gone as that.” He blinked heavily. “My gods and this was only a sip.”

Sarah slid off his lap, her legs steady enough to support her. “What does it feel like?”

His eyes roved up her body, and she flushed. He was sprawled back in the chair, his cock stiffening as she watched. All the while, his gaze assessed her. He held out a hand. “Come back here, lover. I want to be inside you again.”

Something about those words made her knees weak and her mouth dry. “I thought a king had many duties,” she said, staying still. “Isn’t this keeping you from them?”

“Damn my duties,” he said with a slight slur, waving his hand dismissively. “I can be spared for a morning, Sarah mine.” He beckoned to her. “Come here.”

She did, and by the time he was done with her, she was sprawled across the bed, wet to her knees and panting. Her heart thundered, and without a word, she returned to the bathroom, taking some time in his bath to ease her sore muscles. This had been more combined physical exertion than anything she had experienced since moving back in with Karen. Before then, Sarah had been an avid runner, but there had never seemed to be the time.

Now, she was feeling the lack.

Able to submerge herself fully in the water, Sarah did so several times, floating up to the surface and finding Jareth stepping into the massive tub. It was more of a pool.

“It’s beginning to wear off, or I’m becoming accustomed to the sensation,” Jareth said, sinking much like she until he was covered up to his neck. His white-blonde hair turned dark at the water’s touch. “Thank you for allowing me that time.”

She gave him a raised brow. “You’re thanking me? I think I’ve come a dozen times this morning.” Shaking her head, Sarah laughed. “Life has never felt this… decadent.”

Jareth growled approvingly, then sank fully beneath the water, emerging a moment later much closer to her, his hands slipping around her waist. Dripping, he leaned in. The kiss was wet, warm, and tasted so precisely of him that she moaned and started to press against him.

Laughing, Jareth held her back. “Your body needs the rest, lover, even if you’re still—”

“Aroused?” she breathed. “Turned on? You bet.” She had never felt this way. Insatiable was a word for it. He was as potent as a drug.

But he kept them apart, thumbs rubbing soothingly against her shoulders. “We have time, love.”

You might, she thought. Not me.

The thought was sobering, and she moved out of the tub, wrapping a drying sheet around her sopping hair and then herself. Jareth floated in the pool, looking at ease as he watched her.

Sarah needed to see the prophecy. Hearing from others that she was part of something was one thing. It was something entirely different to study the pertinent text herself.

Holding on to these thoughts, she moved into her closet and stood momentarily, considering her options. Jareth had provided her with clothes for every occasion, including a full suit of steel-reinforced leather armor. And something that looked suspiciously like the same shimmering opalescent gown she had worn to the ball during her initial run. The puffy sleeves looked terribly outdated, and she turned from the more formal side of the room. She ended up in a black silk blouse with a plunging neckline, black leather pants, and tall black boots. The sleeves were long and cuffed at the wrist, more silk and lace flowing from it to cover the backs of her hands. She removed her hair from its wrap and quickly put it up to keep the wet strands off the fabric.

There was an appreciative noise behind her, and Sarah turned to find Jareth watching her. He was dressed similarly to her, though he had chosen a royal blue vest with black vines embroidered. His hair was dry, and, with a snap of his fingers, she felt her own lighten and the subtle smell of magic.

“You are a vision,” he said. “And I have a request.”

She crossed to him, trailing fingers up the exposed portion of his chest. “What’s that?”

“After you have read the prophecy, would you take a meal with me?”

Sarah blinked, realizing that though they had coffee, they had never eaten together. She flushed. It sounded more date-like than what she would have been entirely comfortable with even a few days ago, but now? “What did you have in mind?”

“We could have something brought here or sup in one of the dining halls, though that may be less private. I will warn goblins do not make the most obedient of subjects. Closed doors mean little to them.”

Sarah nodded and took his arm when he offered it. “I would like that.”

Jareth led them out of the bedroom and passed the guards, who did not move beyond stiffening to attention as they passed.

Though she had more questions for him, Sarah relaxed into the walk and in being able to touch him so casually. Jareth was handsome by any standard, and the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention? It made her stomach flutter, and things low in her gut clenched with anticipation and need.

They passed fewer people than yesterday on Sarah’s way to the audience hall, but she supposed that Jareth wasn’t hosting an entire contingent of magical beings today. Also, after they passed through the gallery forest hallway, he veered them left into a narrow hall with doors spaced very far apart on one side and wide-arched windows on the other. Some led to balconies overlooking gardens and courtyards.

Though it was a relatively chilly day, some windows were thrown open. The croak of ravens and the crow of roosters pierced the air. Large shade trees hosted red-wing blackbirds. High above, where she could not see, there was the scream of a hawk. The other birds fell briefly silent.

To the other side, between doors and along the walls, were tapestries depicting battle and group scenes, more oil paintings, large and postage-stamp small, all in ornate frames.

“I’ve never seen so much art before,” Sarah said as Jareth pulled her down a spiral staircase. “Is all of this yours?”

“Most of it,” he said. “More sculptures were here when I arrived, though I commissioned a few.”

They descended several levels until the air was chilly, and her skin pricked with gooseflesh. It was dry-smelling, but there was no more art on the walls as he led her through another hall leading deeper under the castle. There were no windows here, only the pale tan walls and torches set every few feet to cast light along the way.

When they approached the double doors at the end of the hall, Sarah was shocked to see no guards. “Why isn’t it guarded?”

Jareth held her back. “Stay here, and I’ll show you.”

He approached the massive iron doors, studded with three-inch spikes, and lay his hand on the seam.

A glow flowed outward from his touch, and instead of opening the door, it dissolved into liquid metal, running in a rivulet along a channel cut into the floor. The scent of it was profound. Jareth motioned her forward.

“Quickly,” he said. “A new one will form within a moment.”

Sarah hastened her footsteps and crossed the threshold. Her heart hammering, she only had a moment to take in the glitter of gold—gold everywhere—when there was a roaring from behind her. She jumped, turning, and found a torrent of liquid metal pouring from the eave of the doorway. A moment later, a door latticed with a spiked floral motif was cooling before her eyes.

She glanced at him. “So if I or someone other than you were to touch that door?”

He grinned at her. “Look around, Sarah.”

She did, and her breath caught.

The ceiling soared several stories up, and all along the edges of the massive stadium-sized space were bookshelves crammed with glittering, leather-bound tomes.

And everywhere in between, in rows and rows like some great library, were shelves and racks of treasure.

Suits of armor made of pure silver and gold, an entire battalion’s worth.

Chalices studded with jewels, heaps of loose and brilliantly cut rubies, diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, and more.

Everywhere, the light—which seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere—shone and glinted on a million gleaming surfaces. The entire room danced with wealth. It glowed.

She had never seen its like. She did not think such a thing existed in the world Above.

Jareth hummed and wandered down one of the thickly carpeted aisles, walking backward with his hands in his pockets. “The prophecy is this way.”

Sarah hurried after him. “But what would happen if someone else touched that door?”

He made a clicking sound with his tongue and turned around, so he walked forward, quickening his pace. “The way I laid the spell was that anyone not of my blood would meet with an immediate death. I have not checked how the door dispatches trespassers, but there have been none since its installation. Whereas when there were guards, we had break-ins fairly regularly.”

Sarah was listening, but she also paused as they passed a display cabinet filled with Faberge eggs of exquisite detail, their jeweled and enameled sides depicting scenes from a European winter.

“Is that your gift then, precious?” Jareth asked, his voice closer than she anticipated.

She jumped. “No, I don’t think so,” she said, smiling at him. “I just remember seeing photos of these in college, but I’ve never seen one up close. They’re beautiful.”

“One of the few collections from the Above. I took several in payment for Anastasia.”

Sarah blinked. “You mean to say that you took a member of Russian royalty into the Underground?”

“Yes,” he said. “I have several of your famous missing or presumed dead. Remind me to introduce you to Earheart.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Jareth led her to a fairly open space, ringed with shelves of books, but at the center on a pedestal was a glass case containing a single scroll. He led her to it.

“I want to see how much of this you may be able to understand without my help,” he said. “Let me know if you get stuck.”

Sarah waited while Jareth used a small golden key to unlock the case and swing it open, stepping aside to let her have access.

She had gone to museums over the years and traveled a little, but Sarah had never looked at something quite like this. The scroll was clasped to jeweled golden rollers and spread open on an illuminated page filled with scrawling ink marks that seemed as dark as the day it was set.

At first, the markings made no sense. They were beautiful and some sort of language, but she could not make heads or tails from the letters.

She reached out and then hesitated, glancing at Jareth. He nodded. “You can touch it.”

The moment her fingertips brushed the parchment, the words seemed to shift. Form into English that she could read easily, even if the language were a bit archaic.

She began to read what she could aloud.

*

“In the dawn of Faerie, Above and Below, we offer blood & spirit in equal measure

Seed the land with magic abundant

There are those who will seek to control its ebb and flow

Their victory signaling ten thousand years of control

*

In the hours before sunrise and under the triple goddess stars

Born of both worlds and belonging to none

The unconquerable will be seized both in deed and heart

And the land will give the victor means to change

*

Through change there will be trials

But at the head of a great serpent, the one chosen shall strike

Speaking final words of power at the seat of power

Pulling forth the shift that will bring abundance.”

Sarah tongued a small blister that had formed at the roof of her mouth as she spoke. She could taste magic on her lips.

Jareth pulled her hand away from the scroll, closed the case, and locked it again, tucking the key into a pocket on his vest. He did not look at her as he did so but kept hold of her hand, his fingers gently entwining with hers. “Now, we’ll see how much you will retain in the coming hours.”

“Like the goblins and Hoggle? How they can’t remember the words?” But she could. Each of them burned bright in her mind like they had been written with molten gold.

“Precisely,” he whispered, pulling her in for an embrace that she returned before pulling back and offering her a wide smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “Now. Your gift.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked instead.

He sighed. “It is lonely, being the only one in this kingdom who can remember the words, who has a true grasp on what this all means. I am worried that you will forget.”

“The land will give the victor means to change,” she quoted. “That bit is about the wishes I was granted, isn’t it?”

“Yes, love.” His smile brightened a little. “And you still want to use one of yours to help your friends, isn’t that so?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her chest swelling with emotion. “Can you help me find the right words?”

He looped her arm in his and pulled her deeper into the treasury. “Ask for them to be freed of enchantments. That should do the trick.”

Sarah chewed on her words momentarily, then said clearly, “I wish my friends were all free of enchantment.”

Nothing in her indicated that a wish had been fulfilled, but Jareth made a little gasping sound and paused in their walk. “Well, that was interesting.”

“What is it?”

“When the spellwork broke, it did so… I have had my spells counteracted before, but never so cleanly, so perfectly. It was as though it had never been in the first place.” He gazed at her, and there was wonder in his eyes. “You truly have been given a marvelous gift, precious.”

“With eleven more to go.”

“Ten,” he corrected. “You mustn’t use that last one until you’re at the wellspring.”

“I know,” she said, tugging him along. Her eye had caught on something spectacular in one of the display cases. “But they’re free? It worked?”

“Yes, Sarah. You should be seeing them soon.”

She pressed her palm to the glass of the cabinet where many tiered rows of glittering rings were arranged. One, smaller than the rest but finely made, had caught her attention and held it. “That one,” she said, pointing and feeling a bit like a kid in a candy store. He was right. It was not that she had no fondness for jewelry, just that none of it had spoken to her before now. What Jareth had on hand, however? She wanted to play dress-up for days.

Jareth opened the case and plucked the ring from its pad without being guided. “I had a feeling you would have interesting taste.”

Before she could take it from him, Jareth grasped her left hand, sliding the silver band onto her ring finger. The star sapphire gleamed in the center, but the ring's beauty was in the metalwork. Twisting like branches or vines, it gripped the center stone with lavish swirls and designs. She slid her thumb along it, smiling. The twisting mark of the Labyrinth, the symbol at the center of her and Jareth’s pendants, was emblazoned on the sides of the ring. She had barely noticed.

“Do you like it?” he asked, something in his voice making her stop her examination to look at him.

He seemed almost unsure.

She grasped his hands, then hauled him in for a kiss.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

“I’m just saying that he could have done it,” Hoggle grumbled. “He shouldn’t have put the enchantment on them to begin with, least he could have done was remove it. It shouldn’t have been up to you to use one of your wishes.”

Sarah chewed on her words. A part of her regretted telling Hoggle the whole truth of the matter, including that she had thirteen wishes. There were things she and Jareth had spoken about that were none of her friends business, but where he had been open with her she tried to be truthful back.

“I think that he couldn’t,” she said at last. “He said something about swearing on his heart’s blood. I think it would have physically hurt him if he went against the vow.”

“Good.”

She gave him a gentle whack to the arm. “Hey, not nice. You said you’d try.”

“I am trying. I’m coming with you on a bloody campaign instead of staying home and governing the city like a sensible dwarf.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Have I ever told you that I’m a coward? I don’t want to go to war.”

“Then don’t,” she said. “Ludo and Sir Didymus are coming as well. And there’s Neira. Plus Ja—The Goblin King said that he’s assigning me my own guard so that she can take breaks in guarding me.” At these words she glanced at the guardswoman in question, who stood about fifteen feet away, keeping her head on a swivel and her hand on her weapon.

The courtyard was enormous, and filled with over a hundred people doing last-minute preparations for the long march to come. Sarah had studied the maps of where they were going and, with some help from Jareth, deduced it to be over a thousand miles that they had to traverse before they would be at the wellspring. Jareth expected it to take months, perhaps as long as a year or more.

“Couldn’t I use one of my wishes to transport us there?” she had asked him the night before.

“I would not risk it,” Jareth said. “I have never seen magic on a scale such as that, and I worry about the repercussions.”

She knew what he had meant, and wondered just how sure he was that she would die at the end of this. There had been a book she had found during her perusal of Jareth’s study and library which had talked about fae rules and governance over magic. She had taken the little palm-sized blue book and flipped through it, finding near the back a notation that all magic, no matter how large or small, had repercussions. A balance.

So far, however, there had been not a whisper of such a thing from the use of two of her wishes.

And that was a particular detail she had withheld from Hoggle. He could not know that this might end in her demise, or he would do anything in his power to keep her away from danger.

Now, they were less than an hour from departure. Anxiety twisted her guts and made what little breakfast she had put back sit heavy in her stomach.

“I want to go. I want to be with you, after all this time.” Hoggle said softly after a long beat of silence. “Remember who your real friends are, Sarah.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to be in between you two the whole next—however long we have before this is over. If only you all would treat each other with a little more respect. And I’m not saying it’s just you,” she added hastily, holding up her hands. “But you have to admit that you’re both a bit much.”

“You’re too invested in him already,” Hoggle said with a suspicious look in his eyes. “But I might see what you mean. I’ll try harder.”

She sighed. “Thank you.”

Neira approached. “Majesty, your howdah awaits.”

Sarah furrowed her brows. “My what?”

“Your castle in the sky!” Hoggle cried with a grin. “You’re fond of animals, aren’t you?”

There was a bellow and Sarah jumped, looking to where the sound came from to find—“Those are... are those woolly mammoths?” Her voice was incredulous.

They were massive. Almost twice the size of an African elephant, with great shaggy coats that had been brushed to a gleaming mahogany streaked with copper. There were three of them, one which carried solely supplies, but the other two holding canopied seats upon their backs.

Sarah paled. “How am I supposed to get up there?” She was not confident about approaching, either, worried that one wrong move would see them shaking their heads, whipping those wickedly long tusks toward her before she could get out of the way.

“I’ll help you there, precious,” Jareth spoke from behind her, and she turned to find him standing not far off. He smiled at her glance, the motion a flash before he returned to his severe courtly mask. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Am I supposed to be telling that thing where to go?” she asked, pointing at the mammoths.

Jareth gave her a look that telegraphed incredulity. “I have no small amount of magic of my own. They will be docile. Yours is a female, by the way. Her name is Lily.” He gestured.

It was the mammoth closest to them and the smallest of the three, though not by much. Sarah eyed her for a while, noticing how the creature long-extinct in the Above shifted from foot to foot, trunk swaying and occasionally picking at something on the ground with her trunk to examine.

Sarah took a breath. Best get it over with. “Okay. I’m ready.”

She felt the brush of magic a moment later, tingles erupting from where her pendant lay on her chest. She blinked, and she was on the thickly cushioned seat atop Lily, who lifted her trunk in greeting and let out a lowing call.

“Um, hi,” Sarah said, raising her hand in greeting before looking around.

There was a canopy above her head of richly patterned blue and green fabric, and on the poles between which there stretched curtains that could be drawn against the sun. She sat in the middle of a long high-backed bench seat, and there was another facing her closer to Lily’s head, with a low table between that had a hinged lid. She lifted it and found a store of food and drink within.

“Well, that’s nifty,” she said, leaning back in her seat and surveying the world from above.

It truly felt like what Hoggle had said, a castle in the sky. It was like being on a rooftop, watching the last of the preparations. Lily was about a hundred yards from the front of the line, but it snaked out behind her for what looked like a mile, at least.

A moment later and Jareth was on the cushion before her. He gave her a devastating smile. “Ready?”

She shook her head. “This feels weird.” She should have been looking at vacation rentals in New Zealand, Italy, or Brazil, not this. This was so far from where she thought she would be sitting after Karen’s death. “Stupid to ask now, but there’s no way to stop this war, is there? We’re really going to be fighting the fae?”

“Their retainers, primarily, but no, precious, I have found no way to avoid this.” He turned to look forward at where some of the general and lieutenants took up the front ranks. He raised his hand, and the line started forward.

Sarah’s heart began to pound, more so when Lily took her first lurching step. “Woah—” she said, flinging her arms out as the seat dipped under her.

“Spread out your legs like so,” Jareth said, demonstrating. He looked so damned relaxed.

The cushioned seats were low and deep, the backs high enough that it only vaguely reminded Sarah of a roller coaster. She could not help but tense and grip the edges of her seat as Lily took one step after another, her back rolling and dipping slightly with each motion. There was a part of her that really, really wanted a seat belt right about now.

Jareth laughed, looking so at ease she wanted to throw something at him. “You won’t fall. I’ve enchanted the area around here,” he motioned at the edges, where there was a sheer drop twenty feet down to the ground. “So that if, for some ungodly reason, you did? You will be brought safely back into your seat. Do you want to try?”

Her stomach lurched. “No, thank you.” She spread her legs out as he showed her, bracing against the floor of the howdah and beginning to relax into the motion. In some ways, being on Lily’s back was akin to being out on a boat. A little smellier, perhaps, but otherwise…

“You’re so tense,” Jareth said, his head fell back as he grinned, his laughter silent as his chest heaved.

“I’m glad you find this funny,” she snapped, relaxing only to whip her hand back out to grip the edge of the seat again once Lily turned as they crossed through the main gates out of the city. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she swore. “You’re sure I can’t ride a horse? In a carriage? A cart? Donkey?”

Lily trumpeted, and the howdah trembled with the bellow as the other two answered the call.

Sarah could feel her face draining of blood.

“She says she’s far superior to any horse or carriage,” The Goblin King translated, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“You speak woolly mammoth?” Sarah asked, incredulous.

“I speak many languages,” he said enigmatically.

Sarah opened her mouth to ask more, but then Lily trotted forward and she gasped, sliding down in her seat and feeling as though she were going to be thrown any moment. Jareth, meanwhile, looked as though he would double over. His eyes were streaming tears, and he wiped them away as he spoke between gasping breaths. “This is,” another peel of quiet laughter. “The most entertaining thing.”

“To hell with you,” she breathed, still gripping the edge of the seat until her knuckles were white. Her legs shook as she tensed and then relaxed against the sway of the creatures long steps.

Lily lowed, and her trunk appeared over Jareth’s shoulder, snuffling at the air. He reached up and gave it a few solid pats, grinning. “She says you’ll get used to it. Just relax.”

“That’s what  you’ve  been saying.”

“Well, she’s not wrong, and neither am I.” He shrugged as the trunk disappeared again. “You will become accustomed to it. These even become a bed,” he motioned between the seats, and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Should we give it a go?”

“You want to fuck here? Now?” Sarah hissed. “In front of the entire army?”

“You think they won’t know what we get up to when we stop for the evenings?” he challenged. “Everyone knows we share a bed, lover mine. We have not been quiet about it.”

Now her cheeks flamed. “I don’t think so.” She changed the subject. “Is that yours?” she motioned toward the empty howdah on the slightly larger male mammoth.

Jareth nodded. “I’ll be taking meetings there, but for the most part I thought we could share the journey. Of course, if you wish to have your friends here instead, I can certainly help accommodate such things. Though, I will warn that Lily may have issue with a rock troll atop her back. Not least of all because he’s a heavy creature.” He grinned again. “I don’t think you would like it if she tried to shake you all off.”

“She’d do that?” Sarah asked, her voice a squeak of fear.

He shrugged, still smiling. “As I said, I would not try with Ludo. But Sir Didymus and Hoggle I could bring with a snap.” He raised his hands as though to demonstrate.

“Let me ask them first,” she said hastily. “If you go transporting them suddenly they’re going to be pissed.”

Jareth tilted his head. “Why would that be?”

She stared at him, arms and legs still thrown wide. She knew she looked ridiculous. Like a spider monkey. “Gee,” she said, deadpan. “I wonder why, terrorized by a sleeping curse for over a decade, they would be nervous or upset if you used more magic on them without their permission.”

He shrugged, expression unconcerned before stark amusement took over once more and he grinned at her. “Come here.”

Her jaw dropped. “Why?”

“I want to see how you’d try.”

She scowled at him and remained firmly in her seat.

Jareth transported himself over to his mammoth with a smile and not another word, and she could see him well enough to know he was rummaging around in the storage chest in the center of his howdah.

Strange to her that, without him there to watch, Sarah began to relax a bit at a time. Still keeping an eye on The Goblin King, her fingers began to loosen their grip. Lily rumbled beneath her, as though in approval, and gradually Sarah began to focus less on the strange movements, and more on their surroundings.

Sliding to the edge of the bench seat, closer to the support holding the canopy aloft, Sarah saw the great twisting stretch of The Labyrinth, through which wrapped the company of soldiers and retainers that made up the war party. More than thirty thousand souls, Jareth had told her. Gazing out at the weak sunlight glinting off thousands of metal helmets, she believed him.

A blink and Jareth was next to her, holding out a familiar red box.

Sarah laughed to see it, taking it from his hands and only noticing a little that the fear of Lily’s movements had almost entirely abated. “Scrabble?”

“It’s a travel set, see?” he pointed at the letters emblazoned across a bright yellow sticker. “It has raised edges, and the tiles are magnetic.” He flashed another smile. “You and I can play in the evening, precious, and there will be stakes. But I thought this might appeal to you during the journey. Do you wish for me to summon Didymus and Higgle?”

“Hoggle,” she corrected automatically, eyes burning with emotion. “Where did you get this?”

Jareth looked a little ashamed. “I have a collection of games, from the Above and Underground.”

“Chess?” she asked, raising her gaze to his.

“Of course.”

She nodded, distracted by the box in her hands. A reminder of home. “We’ll have to play sometime.”

“Sarah…” Jareth squeezed her thigh, drawing her attention. “I should have asked if there was more from your world that you missed.”

“Can you bring me some of my things?” she asked, hope blooming.

He smiled. “Of course. Not all of it right away, but after the campaign we can arrange for the rest.”

Her stomach plummeted. “Oh.”

Another touch, feathering to her waist. “Love, this is not exactly the place—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted, forcing a smile and lifting the game box. “I want to see if Hoggle and Didymus want to have a game.”

Lily lowed, and Sarah jumped, realizing that she had been moving with ease alongside the mammoths steps. Flashing a grin at Jareth, she asked, “Would you see if they’d be willing to come here? Or you can transport me down there.”

“I don’t think so. This,” he motioned at the four corners. “Is spelled not just to help keep you contained, but threats away from you. I would not have you leaving the safety of your seat here unless necessary.”

Chills went down her back. “You think that there would be a threat here? I’m in the middle of your army.”

He gave a solemn nod. “With that in mind, may I bring you Neira? She can be your fourth player.”

Sarah regarded him suspiciously for a moment, then waved him away. “Please.” There was a lump in her throat that had nothing to do with grief and everything to do with missing home, and fear over what was to come.

Jareth brought each of her friends plus Neira one at a time, and soon the howdah was filled with laughter and general merriment. The Goblin King left them to attend to his own seat, where Sarah observed him hosting generals and soldiers alike. What they spoke of she did not know, as the distance and general clamor of the marching soldiers kept anything of interest from her ears.

Didymus turned out to be a formidable opponent at Scrabble, knowing some of the most archaic and point-heavy words possible. When they tallied their games, he beat them by as much as forty points.

After the third sound defeat, Sarah checked through the storage chest and came up with wine, cheese, fruit, and bread. She and her friends feasted and drank, even Sir Didymus, though Neira abstained from the alcohol. Her gaze was constantly on the move, taking in their changing surroundings.

“You can relax a little,” Sarah said after a while. “Jareth has spelled it to be as safe as possible.”

Neira shook her head, flame-colored hair coming loose in tendrils from her braid to frame her strong face. “It is not for me to relax. I am here to help guard you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “From what?”

Neira was silent, and Hoggle grumbled from Sarah’s side. “She’s here to protect you from us.” He motioned between himself and Didymus, though his gaze was only for the guardswoman. “Because his royal smugness doesn’t trust us an inch.”

Sarah opened her mouth to deny, but Neira’s continued silence was damning. The wine turned sour in her stomach. She asked the guard, “Is that true? Are you here to protect me against my friends?”

“Things here are not always as they seem,” she said, color high but conviction in her tone. She did not look directly at any of them. “What’s important is your safety.”

Sarah huffed and turned away. It might have been alright with her that this was what Jareth wanted Neira here for, but she had not been asked. She was going to have to talk to him about permission and autonomy. She had the feeling a king was not used to taking the desires of others into consideration.

“My lady,” Sir Didymus said, his voice a little loud from drink. “I swear on my life’s blood we will never harm you.”

Sarah gazed at him and smiled. “I know, sir knight. Thank you.”

A pall had crept over the group where there had been merriment and celebration just moments before.

A scroll appeared suddenly on the table between the bench seats, and Sarah reached for it. Before her fingertips could touch the parchment, however, Neira had snatched up the missive. Sarah glared, but the guardswoman examined the scroll without breaking the seal for several long moments before passing it back to her. “It appears benign.”

“Why, Neira, could you be a dear and check that the letter isn’t a destructive weapon?” Sarah asked, her voice syrupy sweet as she batted her eyelashes.

Hoggle choked on his wine and Sir Didymus let out a peel of laughter. Sarah unrolled the scroll and quickly read the message scrawled there by a flourishing fae hand.

Tucking the letter against her breast after giving it a quick read, Sarah smiled. There had been a good deal of salacious details that her friends did not need to know. However, “The Goblin King says that we’re to stop for the midday reprieve in another hour.”

Hoggle let out a rude noise. “I’m sure he wants to rest already the great uppity—”

Sarah whacked him with the back of her hand, drawing a smile. “You said you’d try,” she reminded him.

“Aye, I hear you.”

###

The Goblin King had ensured there was a mass of rations once the train came to a stop, cooks coming up the lines with pots of stews that had been simmering the entire walk in great cooking wagons. The cauldrons had their own legs, walking careful so as not to slop their contents. 

They were stopped just outside the walls of the Labyrinth, the structure rumbling behind them, walls shifting in agitation. Sarah had the sense that the Labyrinth was unused to letting so many people through so casually. Even still, she had heard rumors that a handful of goblins had gone missing. Whether through desertion or ineptitude or the Labyrinth's intervention, no one was yet sure.

To her eyes, it was like a kicked anthill. The goblins scrambled over the dusty hills, some climbed the scraggly trees and draped from the branches like great jungle cats, others collapsing into the dirt and snoring loudly. 

Sarah watched it all from the top of her howdah, and smiled when Jareth appeared beside her. 

"I have set up a pavillion, love, where we can retire for an hour while the army eats and rests." 

"I can't believe it took this long just to get out of there," she said, taking his offered hand and bracing for the rush of magic that erupted from her pendant. It left her in a rush of dizziness, and she leaned against Jareth's chest. He caught her around the waist and the next thing she knew, his mouth was slanted over hers, the kiss deepening as she moaned into it. Her fingers tangled in his fine hair, and she pulled back with a gasp, looking at him with hooded gaze. "I can't have you telling Neira to protect me against my friends," she said, voice low but firm. "It's ridiculous. They would never do anything to hurt me." 

Jareth's eyes glimmered in the low light filtering through the multicolored canopy. "You mean everything right now, Sarah. I can't have anything happen to you." 

"I'm surrounded by your people," she pointed out. "You barely let me out of your sight." 

"You're still human, with little magic of your own," he argued, the backs of his gloved fingers tracing over her cheek, her jawline. His gaze went to her mouth. "We're about to march out of my domain and across Faerie. What we face along the way I can only guess and hope at, but I know this; you will be a target." 

"Then protect me," she breathed, leaning in. "But don't be paranoid. My friends? That's going too far." 

Jareth gathered her to him, his body hardening in response to her closeness and their kisses. "Whatever you say, precious." 

The pavilion had fabric walls staked down in a wide circle, encompassing a giant bed and washing area, plus a long table that looked to be covered in scrolls and maps. It had the feeling of something that Jareth had used previously, but she barely took it in before he was stripping the clothes from her body, exposing her to the warm air and the hard press of his touches.

Sarah tried to be somewhat quieter knowing that they were surrounded by the entire goblin army, but Jareth would have none of her silence. When she bit down on the back of her hand to keep from crying out, he pulled it away and kissed her before growling, “None of that.”

It was what he had said to her when she pulled her hair, too, on that first night when he had come to claim her. Sarah wondered at that, briefly, before Jareth was sliding into her and she could think of nothing else but the touch of his flesh and the heavy pressure of his cock between her legs.

Sarah did make more noise then, moaning with every thrust and clinging tightly to the body that was making hers come alive so spectacularly.

After, when Jareth’s attention moved to the table of maps, Sarah wrapped herself in a sheet and came to stand beside him, looking at the array of topographical features and the foreign splendor of Faerie cartography. Some of them focused on a wider view, but many were of highly localized features.

Jareth traced a route with his finger. “This is going to be us for the next week or so. We need to travel through the narrowest part of the wastes, and then we’ll be in the centaurs kingdom.” He tapped the edges of the map, where it darkened to show great forests.

Sarah shook her head. It still seemed incredible to her that she was here, in the Underground, with a bonded or betrothed fae lover, and in the midst of a horde on some magical quest.

A thought suddenly stole her breath, and Sarah grasped Jareth by the arm. “My wishes.”

He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “What about them?”

“Could they bring back Toby? My dad?”

The flicker in Jareth’s eyes made her stomach sink. He cupped her face with his hand, his words soft. “It is the most forbidden of magics, to bring back the dead. They would not be the same. I think it would work, after a fashion, but you don’t want that, my love. They would not age. They would decay before you. There is no good life for the undead.”

Her eyes burned but she refused to let the tears fall. “It was just a thought.”

Jareth kissed her, lips soft against her own. “A good thought, precious. I wish I could say that it would work, but I do not think it would, even with your great power.”

“I wouldn’t want to see them like that, either,” she whispered, looking anywhere but at him.

“Quite right.”

Sarah sighed, then looked at the floating clock that gave the illusion of hanging on the canvas wall of the pavilion. “How much more of that hour do we have?”

Jareth’s smile was slow and lascivious. “For a mortal, you have quite the appetite.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head at him. “Are you complaining?”

“Never.”

###

By the time the army bedded down for the evening, they had traveled approximately six miles from the gates of the Labyrinth and into the wastes. Sarah felt twitchy, cooped up as she had been in the howdah and in Jareth's tent. Even though she had kept company with Didymus and Hoggle the remainder of the day, she missed Ludo. She missed exploring things. Especially in the later afternoon into early evening, when the trio of friends had been quietly reading together in her howdah. While peaceful, it was also so intensely slow-paced.

And then there had been the evening meal, taken with the generals of the forces. A long banquet-style picnic table, put together from collapsable parts. They were a rowdy lot, goblins through and through despite also being part of leadership. There were some representatives of other species, but they were drowned out, Sarah unable to get to know any of them in the cacophony of the others.

Something in the air smelled medicinal, starting around mid-day and growing stronger as the hours dragged on. It made her think of the times she had gone under for her wisdom teeth and appendix. Now the scent and taste was thick in her nose and mouth, covering up the taste of the food she was served alongside the others. The roast and vegetables were like paste in her mouth. She barely ate.

Jareth kept his attention partly on her at all times, making her feel at times both adored and also annoyed. The medicinal smell and pressure increased, making everything feel dream-like. He asked her if she disliked the food, and she said she had eaten throughout the day, even though she could not remember if that were true.

Then he took her hand to bring her to their pavilion, set high above the others. At this point, the drink had started flowing in earnest. “Time to retire, precious?”

She smiled at him, suddenly clear-headed. “If you say so.”

Bathing, dressing, lovemaking. The taste of him. She had never wanted someone so much.

But when Jareth’s breathing deepened into sleep that evening, Sarah slid from the bed, throwing on a deep emerald dressing gown and padding silently to the entrance, peeking out. Twin torches burned on tall spiked poles near the only official egress point, casting a contingent of six guards into relief. Sarah withdrew and crept around the edges of the tent, pulling up a stake near the bathing area and slipping under the flap of fabric, dusting herself off as she came to a stand on the other side. 

It was stupid, she knew, but a pressure urged her onward, and made her take several stealthy steps away from the pavilion and those that flowed away from it. 

Star and moonlight were so brilliant upon the dusty, glittering soil that she could see her way as though strung by fairy lights. Wrapped in dark fabric, Sarah knew that she blended easily into shadows. Only her pale skin would make her stand out. 

She was most of the way to the cooking tents when hands grabbed her.

There was something about this that seemed correct, even as she fought against the palm clamped down over her mouth, muffling her cries. The burly goblin who stank of grease and unwashed body pulled her into a supply wagon with high wood walls and a ceiling that blocked her and her captors from sight. The wagon door slammed shut behind them, throwing everything into deep shadow.

The shudder on a lamp was thrown up, casting a yellow glow into the space, and Sarah’s eyes widened. There were two goblins, the one holding her and one crouched in the corner, but close enough to kiss was—she’s got to be fae. 

The features were too sharp, the gaze too piercing, to be a human. Her hair was just as fine as Jareth’s, though hers was a smokey quartz color, translucent. Eyebrows were swept up on the ends here, too, with gold shadow dusted near the tips. Shadowing eyes as clear as glass. They picked up the yellow from the light, but it was a watery reflection.

A smile revealed pointed teeth. “Oh yes, you would be his type.”

Sarah bit against the calloused flesh holding her, teeth aching with the pressure and eyes watering with the smell. It yielded her a sharp slap across the back of the head, making it ring, and the hand against her mouth never ceased its hard press.

“Stupid girl,” the fae said. “What are you doing out here all alone?” The tone was mocking.

Sarah wanted to say, you know. You know very good and well why I’m out here.

Now that she was in the wagon, she could sense the magic dissipating. Her pendant hummed against her chest, and Sarah wondered if it would warn its duplicate about the danger she was in. Would it wake Jareth?

She wanted to be able to wish for him, or wish these people away.

The fae woman tilted her head like a bird, leaning heavily into the motion until she was no longer looking at Sarah, but at the skinny goblin crouched in the corner. The move was something out of a horror movie. Struggling harder against the huge goblin who had hold of her around the waist and mouth, she felt a thread of dark danger here she had experienced in few other places. Maybe once, when she fell into the oubliette, and realized she might be there forever. What forever would mean. Her death, her decaying body in the dark…

She wondered, still, if Jareth might have let her rot there if not for Hoggle’s help.

If she could not get out, it would have meant she was not the one he was looking for.

The fae woman whispered to the goblin in the corner, "Do it." 

I can get out of this, Sarah thought now, even as the skin-and-bones creature slid toward her, two quick movements on the rough-hewn boards of the wagon.

Even as the light caught the knife, gleaming.

It wasn’t until the blade slid across her throat that Sarah realized that this time, there was no escape.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

Pain. A heated line of fire from ear to ear.

The sensation of drowning. Choking. Unable to breathe.

A roar. Splintered wood exploding around her. The sudden intake of breath of the fae woman, her hands up as though she were innocent. As though she had not given the order.

Sarah’s throat was slit, but the moment the goblin who held was wrenched away, the grip slackening in death, she put her hands to her neck, trying to stem the tide.

It was wide and it seemed shallow, but there was so much blood. It flowed over her fingers, hot and pulsing, and still she could hardly draw a proper breath. Now that the hand was away from her face she could get some thread of oxygen into her lungs, but it was not enough. Her vision was darkening.

Jareth was on the strange fae, having thrown a crystal at the skinny goblin who still held the bloody knife, making it implode, disappearing with a squealch of bone and sinew. The fae woman had a small blade, but it was knocked from her hands. The Goblin King’s fingers turned to talons, and he plunged his fist into the strangers stomach, digging upward toward her heart.

“Wait! You—” she cried, then choked on black blood, her eyes wide and unseeing within moments.

Jareth withdrew an arm drenched in red. He breathed hard. Once, twice, then spun on Sarah, falling to his knees before her and pulling her close with his clean hand, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re going to have to be brave, my love. So brave. I’m sorry. This is going to hurt.”

Sarah knew she must be dying. This was it. The blood was gushing slower passed her fingers, and soon she would be empty.

“You cannot die,” he whispered. He was pulling at the belt of her dressing gown, using it to wrap around her neck, stemming the flow of blood. “I have your mortality, remember? So this is going to be painful, precious one, but it will not be an end.”

Sarah tried to respond, but there was no forcing air beyond that wound, and her vision was fading, the darkness overtaking all but Jareth’s face as he bent over her.

“You’ll be okay,” he said, the last words she heard before she lost consciousness. “I will take care of you.”

Darkness.

###

Movement.

A ship at sea.

The barnyard scent of clean animal sweat. Alfalfa and hay.

Words and phrases in pieces.

“She should be—”

“—miracle that it is—”

“Full recovery as long as—”

“—kill you before you—”

“Oh? Kill me how?”  

At this last, spoken in a heated exchange she could hardly follow, Sarah’s eyes fluttered open. Sunlight filtered through green and blue curtains, casting her surroundings in colorful shadow. Even still, the brightness made her close her eyes immediately, shifting a little as she tried to speak.

She could not speak.

Her eyes flew open, blinking rapidly as muted sunlight continued to bear down on the canopy of the howdah. Her hand was like the flash of a white bird flapping in the dimness, and then it was captured by familiar fingers. Jareth’s face, the last one she had seen and now the first after—

How am I alive? How can that possibly be? She must have bled out near everything in her body. I know he has my mortality but how could everything…

She tried to self-assess, but other than the deep pain in her throat and neck, the paralysis of her vocal chords, she could not feel anything amiss. Her heart beat. Her mind raced, and toes wiggled.

Jareth smoothed hair off her forehead. He spoke to another while looking at her. “Get out. We will continue this later. Sarah’s awake.”

“I want to talk to her.” Hoggle.

Sarah’s eyes widened. She could not turn her head, as there was something stabilizing her neck that prevented movement. She let go of Jareth’s hand and extended hers out again. This time the rough, calloused fingers of her friend Hoggle grasped her back.

Jareth made no move to change positions so she could see Hoggle, but Sarah could not exactly blame him. He was sitting at Sarah’s side, but her position was flat, taking up half the width and all the length of the howdah. It was as a twin-sized bed. If Jareth gave Hoggle room, the dwarf might be sitting in his lap.

Sarah smiled a little, reaching for Jareth with her other hand, the one furthest from them both. It was an awkward position, but the way that he clasped both his hands around hers, then leaned down and kissed her palm, made the slight uncomfortableness worth it.

“The ones who took you are dead,” Hoggle said. “Jareth got them all. There were two others working as sentinels.”

Sarah closed her eyes, which burned, then squeezed Hoggle’s fingers until he let her go, beckoning with a drawing motion for something to write with. So far, she could not make sound pass from her lips. Even breathing was pained, though with that each inhale and exhale also cooled the area of the wound.

Jareth released her and summoned a hard-backed pad of paper and a sharpened pencil. She pulled the paper close to her face, taking her time before handing it to Jareth. He read it aloud. “Who was the fae woman? What did they want? How long have I been asleep?”

“She was some kind of assassin from the courts, surely,” Hoggle grumbled. “The goblins were, unfortunately, ours. Defectors. So there’s someone who is able to get messages from the fae to our ranks. They’re trying to do deals.”

Jareth did not disagree. “Fae thrive on making deals, and there would be many tempting magics and riches that they can dangle before our people. We might have to increase the soldiers’ salaries and benefits.” He sighed, then answered her second question. “We can only assume they wanted to remove your ability to speak. I think they then aimed to kidnap you.”

Sarah patted the amulet laying now on her breastbone. It gave a happy sort of hum.

He smiled. “Yes. Our amulets share a connection, and the danger pounding out of this one woke me at last. Too late,” he said, touching his throat and looking at hers.

“You’ve been starting to come around for two days, but you were out for three before that,” Hoggle continued. “You needed blood. We—uh. He would only let it be him. But it took a while.”

A hand on her thigh, giving the slightest squeeze. She stared back at those glittering eyes, wondering if they truly were two different colors, or if the pupil was just blown on the one side, giving the illusion of such.

She wondered what it meant, to get a massive blood transfusion from a fae. I wish I were healed so I could talk.

“It won’t hurt you,” Jareth said softly. “It may do nothing at all. There is power in blood, yes, but you’re not a vampire. We fae are universal donors, but most won’t do it, so the full reprucussions are unknown. I just—once the surgeons and doctors worked on your neck to satisfaction, we had to get more blood into you. Your own body was still producing, it just would have taken too long. Months, perhaps, and it would have been so painful during, while—” he stopped himself with a sudden intake of breath, then shook his head. “I am sorry. I wish to tell you all, precious, and I am tired. That took something from me.”

“I ain’t ever seen someone bleed that much and not die,” Hoggle said.

“I’ve been taking a restorative every night,” Jareth explained, still looking at Sarah. Still touching her. “It takes the night to work, but it allowed me to continue to do what needed doing. Luckily, our Sarah is a slight thing,” he grinned. “Not as much needed.”

Hoggle snorted.

Jareth looked at him and then at Sarah again, drawn back to her eyes as though he were magnetized. “Can I please send Hoggle back to his wagon? I wish to speak to you alone.”

Sarah got the paper and pencil back and wrote a quick is there anything in particular he wants to talk about first?

Jareth read back the message, sighing at the end and narrowing his eyes at the dwarf.

“N-no,” Hoggle stammered. “I just want you to know we were all here, Sarah. Me, Didymus, and Ludo when we stop for the night and you’re off Lily’s back. We were all looking out for you.”

Sarah wrote, I love you all. Thank you. It’s okay if Jareth wants to talk to me alone.

Jareth relayed the information, and then there was the zip of magic, and they were alone. Sarah took the pad of paper and wrote, I can’t speak. Is that going to be temporary?

“We don’t know,” he answered upon reading. “And I do not know if your wishes will work if you do not speak them aloud. You could wish in your mind to be completely healed, perhaps?”

Sarah wanted to shake her head, but instead wrote, I’ve wished in my head earlier. Nothing happened. 

He frowned, then tilted his head. “Perhaps if it was written?”

Sarah put down, I wish I were fully healed. Her breath held.

Nothing.

“Try thinking with everything you have, Sarah mine. Think it as though you wanted to say it with everything in your whole body. Your soul. Wish with intention.”

She was tired, but she mustered all she could. Every ounce of her fortitude. I wish, she prayed, to be healed.

It was instantaneous. One moment she had a deep, abiding pain in her neck, and the next she felt strength flood her body. All pain dissipated. “Did it—it worked!” she cried, as Jareth reached for the device keeping her head in place. She sat up, grinning, but the smile faded as he looked at her, weariness in every inch of him. “I’m so sorry, Jareth. I don’t know what happened. I don’t understand why I left like that.”

“You were bespelled. And I, stupidly, had wards set to alert me if someone was attempting to come into our tent, but I never thought to alert for someone leaving. You’re still human. You’re susceptible, even with your wishes, to fae magics. If there is information leaking, surely the rest of the fae now know of this weakness.” He sighed, running both hands over his face, blocking it from view. When he spoke next it was muffled. “This is not ideal. Fae are a powerful lot, and I did not expect their direct involvement this soon.” He chuckled ruefully and finished running hands through his mussed hair, staring into the middle distance.

“They’re threatened,” Sarah said, sure of it. “They know we can win.” She rubbed her neck and said quietly, “They also want me to burn through my wishes.”

“Yes. I thought so, too.”

Three down, she thought. I have gone through three wishes in a week.

“Jareth?”

His gaze snapped to hers.

She took his hands, which had been hanging down by his knees. “You need to sleep.”

“I can take another restorative. We’re almost done with the day’s march.”

Frowning, Sarah asked, “If that’s akin to the methods we used in the Above to keep ourselves awake when we needed real sleep—”

“It’s magic, precious, and far more potent.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I would offer you one, but you might not sleep for days.”

That almost enticed her enough to ask for one, but when he pulled a corked bottle of ink-black liquid from his inner pockets, she wrinkled her nose. I wonder what’s in that.

He laughed, and put it away. “I’ll take it later. For now, let me check our progress. We should finally be nearing the edge of the wastes, but I want us to stop on this side of it. The moment we pass into the centaur kingdom, I’ll have to do the diplomatic song and dance.”

Sarah pulled him into a quick embrace, and he grunted, wrapping arms around her in turn and squeezing. “I thought I was going to die.”

“You would have, if not for—”

“I know.”

Jareth sighed and pulled away enough to look in her eyes. They were kissing distance, and she wanted to close that gap, to taste him, but he still telegraphed an exhaustion that made her bite her bottom lip instead. He groaned. “Don’t do that, precious. When you do that it…” he trailed off and nuzzled at her neck instead, pressing lips to her pulse point. “Let me check on our progress.”

Sarah nodded, and moved back, smiling back at him before he disappeared with a slight rush of magic.

The howdah swayed with Lily’s long steps, but Sarah found that her legs were automatically bracing and relaxing alongside her mounts movements. She went to the curtain and opened it just enough to peer out.

The other mammoths were further forward. In fact, most of the army was, with Lily taking up the very end of the main forces and only the supporting groups of cooks, doctors, blacksmiths, carpenters, engineers, nurses, and others stretching behind her.

She withdrew from her peek and touched on the bed that had been made of half her howdah. The blankets were dark with sweat, and she could hardly blame herself. The heat from the late afternoon sun was beating down hard on the canopy. Part of the reason she had kept the curtains closed.

Jareth reappeared as she was poking through the center console for food, her stomach growling. He looked as weary as ever, pulling on his hair as he spoke. “We are about an hour from the border. The scouts already found an area to set up camp. The process has begun.”

He was sitting on the edge of her bed, and she slid onto the spot next to him, abandoning her hunt for food. She took his hand, sliding off the glove he wore. Jareth stared at what she was doing as though he were hypnotized by the moves.

The contact of skin against skin sizzled similarly to a slight electric current, and shot all the way to her groin. Sarah bit back a gasp, but when her gaze snapped up it was met by his, and then his other hand, still clad in linen, cupped her face, and drew her closer.

The kiss started and stayed soft for some time, and when Jareth pulled back his breathing was labored, his eyes closed. “They should be done with the pavilion by now. I need to check, and then address the generals, at least.”

Sarah frowned at him. “You’re barely conscious.”

His eyes opened, glittering darkly and piercing her where she sat curled tight against him. Her heartbeat ticked up, as did her breathing. “If I can lie with you, which I very much intend to do, then I can address the leadership.”

###

When Jareth transported her to the pavilion, the front door was wide open, allowing her to see and hear what was transpiring with him and his troops. She was also able to beckon Sir Didymus into the tents opening, smiling as he gaped at her. “Can you tell the others I’ve been healed?”

“My lady! You look very well indeed. How did this come to transpire?”

As usual, Didymus had very little volume control. Jareth looked over his shoulder toward them from where he was standing before a line of approximately a dozen officers, and Sarah flashed a grin and a little wave. She whispered back to her friend, “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow? I’m tired.”

Didymus bowed, and his next words were blessedly aimed at the ground. “As you wish it, my lady.”

Sarah stepped back, letting the dimness of the tent throw her into cool shade. Moving away from the entrance she went first to the table laden with camp food. Fresh fruits, crackers, cheese. Wine. She drank, ate, and then wandered over to the bathing area, where a giant copper soaking tub was filling actively with cool water scented with something floral and woody.

She turned away from that to examine the available clothing, pulling from a hanging rack a silky black robe and setting it on a table next to the tub and the stack of drying sheets.

Pulling the fabric of her shirt away from her sticky skin, Sarah noticed that the ebb and flow of Jareth’s conversation had ended, and then the lighting in the pavilion changed. Lamps flared everywhere, and the weak bit of daylight the front door flap had let it was suddenly gone.

Just to be sure she peered around the privacy screen and saw it was Jareth who padded through the living area, boots making no noise on the layers of rugs and furs. He spotted her and his pace quickened. She smiled and retreated, pulling her shirt over her head.

Hands captured her mid-motion, so that she was blind, arms trapped in soft cotton. Her breasts were bare to the air, and she could feel her nipples harden, a sound of wanting escaping her when teeth grazed the side of her neck.

“I was afraid I would never hear you again,” Jareth said, releasing the shirt and helping her throw it to the ground. She spun to look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry. “I feared… much. Your mortality belongs to me, but the rest of you can still hurt, still experience great pain, and—” he stopped himself, then reached into his inner vest pocket and withdrew a vial.

It was the restorative from earlier. Jareth took it in one shot, his eyes closed as his head was tipped back. A glow came under his skin, just a little, like the sheen of moonlight on water.

“Will that make you fall asleep?” she asked.

“No, but I do need to take it an hour or more before I go to bed.” He grinned. “Will an hour suffice, my love?”

She stepped back and shook her head, shedding her pants and undergarments before skirting away from his reach, finding her way instead into the great tub. He watched her as he started undoing his own clothes.

Using a large natural sea sponge to lather up soap and scrub at her skin, Sarah was not watching for Jareth as she spoke. “Is my first wish still working? The one to know more?”

“Yes,” he said, kneeling down next to where she bathed. “Let me help you with your hair.”

She did, closing her eyes when he bade her to and enjoying the feeling of being pampered.

“I love your hair,” he murmured to her. “Almost all fae are blonde or white, or some variation thereupon. Colors and darkness are rare indeed.”

“And you like my darkness,” she whispered, eyes still shut.

He chuckled. “You know I do.”

When he finished and she was done scrubbing her body, Sarah stepped from the wash basin and wrapped herself in one of the crimson bathing sheets.

Jareth cleansed the bathwater with a wave of his hand, then took off the remainder of his clothes and slid into the tub with a sigh.

“Do you want any help with your hair or back?” Sarah asked, belting the black robe around her.

“No, love. But I do want you to do something for me.”

His eyes were closed, and the sentence had been innocent enough, but Sarah found herself blushing. “What’s that?”

“I want to be with you,” he said, eyes now open and piercing her where she stood. “So I want you to go, now, to the bed and pleasure yourself. Come as many times as you wish or are able to. Finger and fondle yourself until I finish with my bath and arrive to finish you off with my cock.” The last word he enunciated with a clear pop of the tongue, then grinned.

Sarah must have been beet red, she was sure of it. “I, uh—”

“You told me the first night we were together, the night of our bonding, that you touched yourself thinking of me. Was that true?”

She nodded.

Jareth sat up in the bath, leaning over the tub with his arms folded on the lip, looking michevious and feral and ready to pin her to the ground—

She swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

He looked as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Well, Sarah. Do you want to touch yourself in here, instead? I would not mind the show while I tend to my ablutions.”

She scurried off, climbing onto the bed and then pausing as she knelt in the center. Her hair was still damp, so she took off the robe and folded it to lay over the pillows, lying back completely naked on the coverlet.

Jareth had said that he would put a sound warding on the tent, and so she could pick up only a muted version of the nighttime camp noises that surrounded them. Those outside would hear nothing from within. The occasional slop of the water reminded her that he was doing something that had an end. He would come to her, and expect that she—

She slid hands along her stomach, hugging herself for a moment, shivering in the warm air. Her skin was cool to the touch, and gooseflesh rose as she traced the fine hairs of her abdomen that led down to…

Oh, she thought, trembling a little as she cupped herself. It had been a long time since she had done this. Before coming to live with Karen. A year? More?

She traced her seam with one feather-light touch, and her back arched, her other hand rising to caress her breast, fingers skimming over one hardened nipple.

Dipping a finger between her folds, Sarah found herself freshly wet, slick from top to bottom. Letting out a shivering gasp, she heard the sounds from the bath suddenly cease. As though he were listening.

Sarah let out a high noise of pleasure when she first stroked her clit, fingers sliding over it with no resistance. She had her knees up and pressed together, her legs shaking as she kept up the slippery movements, her breath coming faster. Higher.

Eyes slid shut and she threw her head back as she came, legs trembling, her core slick as oil.

“My gods,” he said, his voice so close she snapped her gaze open even as she continued to pant, her heart hammering. All sign of exhaustion was wiped from Jareth’s visage, and he was staring at her with a hunger that made her whimper.

Jareth stood at the base of the massive bed, naked but dry by some magic no doubt. She hated how still he was, when she knew very well that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

She let her knees fall apart, spreading herself for his gaze. She left her hand there, tracing the path between her opening and her clit. “Come fuck me, Jareth.”

He let out a low growl, his cock twitching upward, bumping against his stomach. He took it in hand as he crawled onto the bed, going straight for the spot between her legs. She was losing her breath for entirely new reasons now as he stopped, grasping her hip and pulling her closer, angling her upward. The motion dislodged her hand, and she gasped when a silk scarf wound around her wrist like a living vine.

She looked to Jareth, eyes wide. “This is you?”

“Yes,” he affirmed. “If you don’t mind, lover. I’ve wanted to see you held helpless for some time.” The tip of his cock he pressed against her, running the same path her fingers had traveled.

She squirmed. “If I tell you it’s too much, we stop, okay?”

“Always, precious,” Jareth assured her, moving her other hand up and over her head, where another scarf waited. Once both had twined around her wrists they snapped taught, and she felt it immediately, like a lightning strike to her core.

Sarah gasped and writhed even more, sure she might come from this strange sensation alone.

“Well, well. Someone likes being bound quite a bit, it seems.” His tone was teasing, but then it hardened. “Tell me again, Sarah, what do you want me to do to you?”

He held her hips, her body suspended, his thick cock nestled against but not yet pressed into her. She wanted him so much that she could scream from the lack. “Fuck,” she said first, the word containing all the frustrating she felt. “Me.”

Another grin, and he was not shy. He had worked her not at all, but she was so turned on that he slammed home easily. Still, she choked at that first thrust, certain that this time, she would shatter. It was too much. Too good.

And then he moved, and it got even better.

Sarah moaned and cried out at each deepening thrust, as his body bent over hers and she could feel every inch of his pent-up worries and fears from the last few days. All the longing. The intense need that had not been sated.

She opened to him and came apart in the same moment, gripping the scarfs tight and pulling as he continued to pound into her, relentless.

“Fuck,” she moaned. “Jareth, please—”

She did not know what she was begging for, but he seemed to. Simultaneously spreading her legs wider and moving faster, one hand traveled down to where their hips met and his thumb brushed against her clit.

Sarah screamed, all her muscles tightening down as she came.

Jareth was the one who choked on a breath this time, his motions suddenly erratic. His grip near-bruising, he pounded into her several more times and then she was being filled with deep warmth.

Sarah shuddered, full-body, and wrapped her legs around Jareth’s hips, preventing him from leaving. “I don’t want to be done.”

He kissed her, but still slipped away. “There’s something I want to try before I succumb, precious.”

She tilted her head, then jerked as his exploring fingers traced the seam of her ass. “Wha—”

“Not tonight. Not all the way. I doubt you’ve explored the darker pleasures?

She shook her head. “Not at all.”

“Are you intrigued?”

He continued to tease near that part of her, and she wriggled, simultaneously wanting closer and also nervous, shamed.

“I want to finger you there,” he murmured. “Maybe fuck you one more time tonight if I make you come prettily enough.”

His finger ringed her ass, she gasped and arched, a whispered, “Yes,” falling from her lips. Whatever kept this going.

He kept her bound, and teased her mercilessly, kneeling between her legs and keeping her knees back, legs spread, and hips angled up toward him. He ringed her ass again and again, the sounds leaving her lips giving the impression of pleading.

“Oh, you are sensitive,” he whispered. “But we’re going to go slow. And then someday soon, I’m going to take you here, too. I’ll be the first and the last to have access.”

She mewed, trying to get his fingers to slip inside her, but he kept her on the edge, teasing the sensitive flesh around that spot. He was warm, but then he poured a cool oil over his two fingers, pressed against her tight opening. When the oil hit her she bucked, and he prodded the area, letting the oil slip inside her.

Sarah’s eyes widened, and she wanted to beg, to plead—to hell with it. No one can hear but him. “Please,” she said. “I want to feel you in me.”

“Oh,” he murmured, pressing the pad of one finger one against her. “Very soon now.”

She gave a little yelp when he pushed passed the ring of muscles to slip into her heated channel. Even though his finger was not so long as his cock, she could not help but gasp at how deep he seemed to go before he hit the maximum depth.

His eyes met hers. “I’m going to move now,” he said, the words like a warning. “I’m going to simulate how it’ll be when I fuck you here.”

Sarah trembled, and then he was doing just that, gliding his finger in and out of her most secret place, and she—

Her eyes rolled back, and she strained against the bonds holding her. Wherever they were tied to, it was a nice and secure, for she felt no give. After the first few times that Jareth slid in and out of her, she began to move with him, her hips simulating the thrust. He made encouraging noises and then she gasped again to find a second finger having joined the first.

She let out a low groan. “Oh, my gods.” She was being stretched, and already it was so much, so full. She could not imagine having his cock there.

“Tell me you’re going to come, Sarah,” he said, near-pleading. “You’re squeezing me so tight. Relax.”

He was still slipping in and out, but the moment she relaxed her muscles, sensation rocketed upwards. She gripped the bonds tighter. “Jareth!” she cried, entire body trembling.

Fingers probbed her for a moment more and then slid away. She keened at the loss, head lolling, but then his cock was pressing inside her newly soaked folds, filling her with a single thrust.

Sarah begged, pleaded that he keep going, that he stretch her like that again and again. Jareth grinned, bending down to take a peaked nipple in his mouth. Tongue rolling over her, teeth scraping ever-so-slightly before pulling away. All the while he kept his rhythm.

Then the bonds fell away, and Sarah was flipped onto her belly, hips raised toward him. She sighed as he pressed into her again, then writhed when he urged a single finger into her ass. This time it stung a little and she whimpered. He eased his intensity, slowing what he was doing but keeping up the long, thick thrust of him at her dripping entrance.

Sarah did not know how he did it, focusing on the both at once, but she was quickly becoming a quivering puddle of lust and sensation. “More,” she demanded, pressing back against the pressure. He was being careful but she did not want him to be. A thought to ask for his cock there flitted through her mind, but she knew she would come to regret that choice. Instead, she found a second finger joining the first.

She was nothing but sensation.

Each push and pull had her swelling, until she burst. Over and over and over again.

When he finished with her, releasing himself with a groan, Jareth pressed magic against her skin, and she had that fresh, just-cleaned feeling of a shower again.

Sarah was so incredibly thankful for this small power, because the only thing she wanted to do at this point was pass out.

Then wake up and do all this again.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

Sarah woke before Jareth, dawn not yet kissing the sky. Her body trembled. She had eaten something of a large snack before bathing and the decadent activities of the night before, but her stomach cried out for more.

She was grateful to find there was a spread of camp food available for her selection. Bars of oats, nuts, and honey baked to a chewy-crunchy consistency, flagons of sweetened pomegranate juice, dried jerky flavored with sugars and marinades. Whole fruit, nutty wheat bread rolls, and sharp cheese completed the selection.

Sarah took her fill, licking her fingers clean before collapsing into one of the camp chairs.

And just as suddenly, found herself in a sun-soaked glade in the midst of a massive forest. Birds sang high above, and moats of golden dust glimmered in slanted beams of sunlight.

Sarah pulled in a panicked breath, finding she was sitting on a wide boulder. Moss cushioned her seat, but when she went to stand a melodic voice rang out, "It's alright. You're not here. Your body, at least. Only a part of your mind."

Zeroing in on where the voice came from, Sarah found a fae woman perched on the branch of a spreading oak tree. Her legs kicked as she looked down, a smile on familiar-seeming features. "Who are you?"

"Jahari. I doubt Jareth told you about me." She leapt down, landing with surprisingly quietness on the leaf-strewn forest floor. Her fall had taken her into a crouch, and she looked up with a grin showcasing crooked teeth. "I'm his older sister." The grin widened as Sarah's jaw dropped. "And while my brother has a gift with dreams, I have the same with day dreams. Visions. It's how I brought you here. I just want the opportunity to talk."

Sarah put the boulder between her and Jahari, giving her a silent nod.

"Not one for polite conversation, I see." The fae woman smiled again.

Her hair was shorn close to her skull on the sides, but was far longer on the top, falling down her neck and spine. Like a horse's main. It was the same kind of silvery gold that Jareth's was, darker at the roots. She wore something that looked like a general's uniform, rows of buttons on her jacket and tight trousers leading to knee-high polished black boots. Silver tassels fell from her shoulders, and silver stars adorned her breast.

Hands behind her back as she regarded Sarah, Jahari said, "I will get to the point. I wanted to ask why you are doing this."

Sarah blinked. "Why am I doing what now?"

Another smile. "Why are you helping Jareth, who has been banished eternally, break loose the bonds of magic? What are you gaining from this?"

Hackles rising a little, Sarah said, "You made sure the fae race was supreme, that only you all had connection to the source of magic, to the shaping of things."

"Yes, and even within our own kind, it is hard to manage those who would abuse such powers. There are reasons we live by the rules and the bounds of the wellspring. Can you imagine the chaos if it were to be set free utterly?" Jahari began to pace, light and shadow rippling across her uniform. "I don't know if you know how bad magic can be. I can see the shadow of it upon you, but you are like a visitor. You have not had to live within our world, and our laws. You do not understand. Your ignorance is—"

"Stop it," Sarah snapped. "I am aware enough."

"Are you?" She stilled, face in shadow while the rest stood in bright sunlight. Somehow the shadows seemed to darken, to begin to twist. "I don't think you do. Your friends were tortured for a decade in their dreams by my brother, your lover. Perhaps I could give you a taste of the same. Time, after all… is very different, in dreams. I could keep you here for what would feel like years, and then send your broken mind back into your body."

Sarah paled. She could swear some of those shadows were like horns sprouting from Jahari's head. "And what would be the point of that? Sadism?"

Jahari laughed. "The original question remains, Sarah Williams. Why are you helping Jareth, The Goblin King? What have you been promised? Or do you have ulterior motives?" She moved at this last, coming back into full view, gaze intense.

Sarah blinked. Surely this one knew of the prophecy? It seemed like something that should be well-known, especially in the Underground. "He asked me to help him."

"And you agreed out of the kindness of your heart?"

She frowned. "What does it matter?"

Jahari stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You don't know!" She pointed straight at Sarah. "Are human lives so dis-valued now that none of you have a plan of what your years will be like? A purpose? Direction? Motivation? Are you simply to flicker and die? Oh," she clicked her tongue. "But you can't die. My brother made sure of that, didn't he? What did he do?" She tilted her head in a manner so like Jareth that Sarah took a step back.

Her head was reeling.

She did not want to confess to Jahari that she had lacked almost any motivation for some number of years. Ever since Toby was struck and killed. It had thrown everyone into disarray, and then one death following another… she had been living in a trance for some time. Just putting one foot in front of the other, hoping each day would be a little more bearable than the one before it.

So far, not so much.

"Is it that you desire to be Goblin Queen? Or you want to be his wife?"

Wanted to be his wife? Sarah tried to school her features. For all intents and purposes, she was already. Jareth had explained to her the bonding was midway between the engagement and marriage. The marriage would kick in on the summer solstice, approximately six months after their bonding. It was meant to ensure marriage was something both parties wished to undertake.

He was not her husband yet, but barring unforeseen difficulties, he would be.

She swallowed. She had not truly touched on that yet, mentally or emotionally. Everything had been such a whirlwind of events and lust and secrets and revelations that she had gotten lost to it. And now they were on the march to war, and the wellspring.

"I—" Sarah began.

And then Jareth spoke from behind her, hand coming down on her shoulder to make her jump, whipping her head around with a wide-eyed stare. "Hello, sister. I should have known you would try something like this."

"Little brother," Jahari purred. "We may as well talk together, the three of us. Sarah was just about to tell me the real reason she's helping you."

Jareth squeezed her shoulder, then ran his hand down her arm so his fingers twined with hers. "Sarah has her own reasons for what she does."

There was something about the way he pulled her back, held her close, that made Sarah feel like he was telling her not to talk. She lifted her chin, staring down Jahari. "I don't have anything to say to you."

The older fae clicked her tongue. "Shame." Her smile was sharp and sudden. "Did my brother tell you why we banished him from the court? Did he tell you I was the one who forced him out?"

She was opening her mouth for more, but Jareth took in a sharp breath, and while one hand still held Sarah's, he wrapped the other arm around her, and took a step back, giving her the sensation of falling…

###

Sarah woke with a whole-body snap, as though she were a strummed rubber band. Someone—Jareth, surely—had placed her on their bed. She looked for him but did not find him on her first round of the pavilion. It rang empty, though there was fresh food, cool water, and wine, she ignored it all, going instead to the slitted entrance.

Pulling the heavy cloth aside, Sarah nearly bumped into the guards that stood elbow-to-elbow just outside the perimeter. "Excuse me," she said, clearing her throat.

"My lady," they said as one, while other nearby guards came closer. The one with the mustache said, "Apologies, your majesty, but his highness decreed you not leave the tent while he remains away. He's meeting with the centaur leadership, he said to tell you, and will return soon."

"Can you send for Hoggle and his friends? Neira?"

The guard hesitated. "Not this time, your majesty. The king asked you to wait for him." The goblins black eyes were soft and apologetic.

Sarah granted him a smile. "It's okay. Thank you."

She paced, and was grateful when she had only done a handful of rotations before Jareth appeared, magic peppering her skin like rain.

"I apologize," he said the moment his gaze fell on her. "I needed to be able to talk to you alone first. I heard you asked for your friends."

"I'm getting a little tired of you keeping them from me," Sarah said, an edge to her voice. "I don't like feeling like your kept mistress."

Jareth swallowed and reached for her before seeming to think the better of it.

Silence stretched between them.

Sarah took a deep breath. Her head was reeling. Crowded with a barrage of questions and fears. "I know," she started, keeping her voice low. "That there's a massive history, that there is more to any of this than what I understand, because this is not my world. I've only been a visitor before now, and—" she cut herself off, frowning. "Is this it? Am I here for good? Is this my world now? Because if it is, then you and I need to have a long talk."

"I agree, precious," Jareth said quickly. "Only that we are going to be expected with the centaur court soon, and I need to be able to talk about politics and not personal matters during our negotiations. I have to be a king, Sarah, but I am still yours. I promise you that all your questions will be answered in time."

"You've had almost ten days!" she protested, throwing up her hands.

"And you were unconscious for half of them. We were also, delightedly, making love to one another. How many times has it been, now? Have you been keeping count?"

Her cheeks flamed red, and Sarah turned from him before flinging herself into a camp chair, fingers at her temples. She propped her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, rubbing at the tension in her forehead. "How long until we're expected to show up? I assume I'm also needed, I can't just stay here?"

"Not unless you want further rumor to spread of your being bedridden. It is better to show strength, I would advise you find a way to make at least a general appearance. If you like, I can wait to summon you until after negotiations have completed." He sighed, standing before her with his arms crossed over his chest. "I can comfortably have us wait another twenty minutes, no more."

"Then talk fast."

He raised an eyebrow. "You asked many questions. Which would you give priority?"

"Am I here for good?"

He was silent for a heartbeat longer than what was comfortable. "You don't have to be," he said, though the words sounded forced. "But I would like it very much if you were."

"So I could go back?"

"Yes."

"But you don't want me to."

"No, I don't."

She smiled. "Second question. Is it wrong I'm marrying you? That we're bonded?"

"It is not common, but it is not forbidden. Not by any laws in any of the kingdoms. Just, some frown upon it a little more than others. The centaurs, for example, may give you a gentle ribbing. The forest elves are going to pretend we're nothing to each other, even if I introduce you with all your titles. Even if we're fully wed."

"Okay." She tapped her foot. "What the hell got you kicked out of the fae court?"

Jareth pulled in a breath, and she braced for a lie. "I don't know if I can tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm afraid once you know, you won't want me anymore. That you will take their side." He stood stiff-backed as he said this, arms still folded over his chest, and Sarah saw that he was holding himself back, as though preparing for some sort of attack. "What I did was reckless, but I was young, and I still believe…" he trailed off, closing his eyes for a moment before he spoke again. "I still believe what I'm doing is the right thing."

"What you're doing? So this is all tied together? Your banishment and this war campaign?"

He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Yes and no. Sarah, love, we have to away."

She felt she was no closer to understanding, and said so. "Tell me, now, precisely what you did."

Jareth's hands fell from his face, and he gazed at her with stark hopelessness. "We march now to finish what I started: to free magic, to release the wellspring. Only when I was still at court, I attempted to do so by poisoning the watchers of the well." He swallowed. "And one of them is my mother."

Sarah blinked. "You tried to kill your own mother?"

"Yes. But I failed spectacularly. Only one of the watchers fell to my plan, and there are thirteen of them in total. The one who died was the youngest of them all, and a friend." He looked stricken. "It was the one of the few losses I've experienced. I had not realized he was to be sworn in that day. I had not realized the others would let him take of the poisoned fruit without saying anything, even though they knew."

Her stomach seemed to bottom out. "Poison fruit? Like the peach you gave Hoggle during my run? The one that brought me to—to whatever that was."

"Yes. Just like that, though my techniques have refined over the years."

"So it was some kind of hallucinogen?" she asked, her voice getting a little high.

"Precious, please—" he begged. "We have to go."

Sarah rose, lifting her chin. He may have had some height on her, but it was not by much. She glared at him. "You came into my life and brought me here, without explanation, without giving me a chance to pack my things—nothing!" She took a deep breath, her thoughts reeling but words flying to mind like silver arrows. "You've withheld important information from me, you've distracted me with mind-blowing sex, and you think that just because your life is busy, you have the right to shunt my needs to the side?"

His expression darkened. "And where have I been lacking, in providing for your needs? Do you hunger? Are you unclothed? Do you have nowhere to rest, nothing to do? Do you not have jewels and riches beyond imagination at your fingertips? Books? Your friends? I have provided plenty!" he said the last with a snap.

"Because you want to use me!" she yelled back, taking a step forward. Her emotions were on high, and she knew she should think more before she spoke, but she spat her words as fast as they came to mind. "You say you love me, but you barely know me. All I am to you is some means to an end. You—"

"I have been watching you for years." He interrupted.

"Watching!" she stamped her foot. "I was alone! If I had known you were there, known you were watching, that would have made a difference, would have made me…" she trailed off, then narrowed her eyes at him. "You drink grief, and pain. You enjoy the taste of it. So were you making it to where I would have more of it while I was in the Above?"

"Never," he said, stepping forward so they were much closer, only a hands span between. She could smell his breath as she raised her face to look at him. "I've told you before and will again, I never wish to cause you pain. I—" he narrowed his eyes this time. "You do believe I love you, don't you?"

There was the prick of tears in her eyes and she swiped them away with the heel of her palm. "I don't know," she choked.

Sarah's heart was thundering, and thoughts and emotions were swirling, agitated. A part of all of this was that she did not want to face the fact that Jareth had admitted to attempted murder of over a dozen fae, and that he had succeeded in murdering his friend. If that was what happened to those closest to him…

Withdrawing when he attempted to reach for her, Sarah said, "Don't try to distract me."

"Is that what you think I'm doing, silly girl?" he demanded, sliding forward and reaching for her again. "I offer comfort."

"Don't call me a girl," she grumbled, but let his hand slide up her arm to her shoulder, let him pull her into a gentle embrace. "I'm almost thirty."

"Positively ancient," he quipped, fingers running through her hair. "I do love you. I promise you, I do. But please remember I am fae, and my long-lived perspective sees the world far differently than you. Add to that, I have been awaiting these moments for centuries, beloved. There is much I want in this world, but what the next several months offer is going to change the course of history entirely, and—"

"Build an empire to withstand time," Sarah quoted from their first night. She pulled back enough to look into his eyes. "You really mean it? You want to rule with me, forever?"

She was not sure what answer she wanted the most.

"Yes." He smiled and cupped her cheek. "Now can we please away? I fear we've insulted our hosts."

She nodded, and he brushed the pendant at her breast, a rush of magic flowing over her whole body so that she shuddered and saw, a breath later, that she was clothed in formal military dress. She smoothed her hands down the wool jacket with its double row of carved gold buttons and looked up to find Jareth was in his Goblin King armor. His severe expression bloomed into a wide grin when he caught her looking at him, and he pulled her closer.

"I promise also, precious, that I will no longer keep your friends from you. Even if we are to have these conversations in front of them."

"You better not," she warned. "It's wholly unacceptable."

"You're right and I'm sorry." He raised her hand to his mouth, laying a kiss across her knuckles. "I will answer the rest of your questions soon, this I vow. Now, are you ready?"

She took a deep breath. "Let's go."

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

“Full house,” Sarah announced, setting down her cards.

Ludo plucked the cards from where he had stashed them about his shaggy coat, and presented four with a pleased smile. She laughed and took another from behind his ear to add to the others, checking them.

“Looks like you got a pair, my friend,” she said, pointing to the two Queens.

“Ludo, friends,” he rumbled, his great paw coming down on her head.

Sarah laughed again and ducked from beneath him, standing up with a few protesting joints. She jogged in place, then grinned at the rock troll. “Care for a run?”

He rumbled an assent and stood, brushing the top of the pavilion with his great wide, horned head. Those horns were much larger now than they had been when she ran the Labyrinth, and they had double rows. Jareth had informed her that a rock troll never stopped growing tusks, and they got wider and more complicated points as they aged.

Another thing she had learned about the rock trolls is that they were much faster than first let on. Especially on a downhill, they could sprint at great speeds.

Sarah led the way out of the pavilion, and Neira peeled off from where she had been leaning against a support pillar, looking bored as she surveyed the approach to the royal tent. As soon as Sarah came into view, however, the guardswoman’s eyes lit. “Another run, your majesty?” she asked, already starting to pick up the pace.

Nodding, Sarah peeled off from the main thoroughfare and ran up the narrow guard ways to the perimeter.

The camp was set up the same way each night, allowing them to find their way regardless. The entire perimeter was, by Sarah’s estimation, approximately four miles. She could run it in about forty minutes, and was trying to beat the record. Each night, however, the terrain shifted. Minutely, sometimes, but today as she, Neira, and Ludo jogged the line, watched by sentries stationed every ten feet, the pounding surf made one edge of the camp much more difficult, where the line met the edge of the beach and she and her friends were running in deep sand. It sucked at her feet, but Sarah pressed on, lungs burning and heart beating fiercely as she watched the sun set over the great turquoise inland sea.

Stopping with her hands on her thighs, braced over her knees, Sarah panted and pushed sweat-dampened hair out of her eyes. “I think that was my worst time yet. Neira?”

“Hour, three minutes your majesty,” she said between quick breaths, glancing at Ludo who had collapsed onto his backside and was tipping over. “I think we broke your friend.”

Grinning, Sarah jogged over to Ludo and offered him a hand. He waved her away. Laughing, she said, “I’m going to leave you here. It’s time for dinner.”

“Ludo, stay,” he rumbled, and sighed deeply, closing his eyes.

She leaned down and gave him a hug, which he gently reciprocated, before pulling back and beckoning to Neira. “Come on. I’m starving.”

Sarah was quick on her walk back to the royal pavilion, but she did not run, though she still could have. There was something so immensely freeing about the sensation, and she had been grateful to get back into the habit these last few weeks.

The banquet table was set up for the officers and generals, but the food had yet to be laid, so Sarah headed straight for the tent she shared with Jareth, waving greetings at a few of the soldiers she’d gotten to know.

Neira stopped outside the tent, and Sarah brought her a goblet of water before ducking back inside to seek out a bath.

She was most of the way finished when Jareth rounded the privacy screens, gaze tracking to her immediately and a smile splitting his handsome face. “Hello, love,” he said. “Did you have a good run?”

She wrinkled her nose. “My worst time, but the beach was a difficult stretch.”

He came to the side of the tub and leaned down, kissing her on top of her damp head. She turned her face up and reached for him, fingers making his shirt soggy and sudsy, but she pulled his mouth down for a proper kiss.

Jareth braced hands on either sides of the tub, suspending himself over her and the water, his fine hair tickling her skin. When she had taken her fill of the taste of him, she sloshed back into the water, giving him a satisfied smile.

“Are we eating with everyone else tonight, or will it be just the two of us?” she asked, though she knew the answer.

“The two of us,” he murmured, fingertips playing on the surface of the water, hovering over where her breast was submerged, only an inch from her peaked nipple. “That was the agreement.”

“Yes,” she said, but she was always happy that he knew exactly which day was which.

After their time at the centaur court, they had come back to the pavilion and Sarah had proposed a solution to their problem. There were many duties to attend to, and even more distractions when the two of them were anywhere close to naked, but Sarah was due proper explanations about this world, her place in it, and of Jareth.

So every third day, barring when it fell on a time they had to meet with local tribes or monarchs, she and Jareth sat down to a private dinner, and so long as dinner lasted, he would answer any question she put to him. In full. Sometimes the question-and-answer session continued on late into the night, and Sarah was happy there had been so many times he had wanted to stay up talking.

To her, it proved that he was being genuine when he said he wished to tell her all, in time.

Just that he had lived a lot of it. Time stretching out almost two thousand years into the distant past, and she knew she had only just started to scratch the surface.

Rising from the tub, Sarah took Jareth’s offered drying sheet, wrapping it around herself before doing the same to her hair, twisting it up atop her head. “What are we having for dinner?”

“I prepared something special, to celebrate your second moon in the Underground,” he said, moving around her and out into the main living area. “Once you’re dressed, join me.”

She had set out a pair of soft linen pants and matching black shirt prior to her bath and changed into them now, eschewing undergarments. Her hair she kept up in its wrap, not having access to anything but Jareth’s magic in order to dry her hair.

She stepped around the privacy screen and laughed at the sight that greeted her.

Absent previously, there was now a circular dining table with a white tablecloth over it. A flowered centerpiece was bracketed by lit candles in glass votives, and there were two silver domes covering their respective plates. It looked like something straight out of a cheesy romance movie, and she said so.

Jareth grinned at her, and his voice was teasing. “Come here and see what I’ve got for you, infuriating woman.”

She crossed to his side and he lifted the cover on her plate with a flourish. Her smile was so big she felt like her cheeks would split. “A hamburger and fries?”

“Not just any. They’re from Antony’s. If I’m quick, I can grab an order before I’m missed in the Underground. I just got back with these before joining you in the bath.”

Sarah leaned forward, sniffing delicately. “That smells heavenly. Garlic?”

“Truffle garlic fries, yes,” he said, sounding proud even though he had only retrieved them. “And this is a Swiss bacon burger, with avocado, sprouts, and a honey mustard aioli. I’m told it’s fantastic. I got one with something called pulled pork and coleslaw on it. Would you like to trade, or did I chose correctly?”

She grasped his wrist and smiled up at him. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t thank a fae,” he chided, though there was a gentleness to his chiding. “Very bad habit.”

She slid into her chair without another word, pulling her plate closer and reaching for the glass containing a fizzy beverage that looked suspiciously like—“Oh, gods, I missed soda,” she said, taking a larger gulp before setting the glass down, careful not to drink it all at once. “I know it’s terrible for me, but—”

“You’ve been running every day for over a month, you deserve a treat,” Jareth said, lifting her hand to graze a kiss across the knuckles before he retreated to his own spot, revealing his burger and grabbing hold with barely-disguised glee. “I’ve always wanted to try one of these.”

“This is supposed to be one of the best ones on the planet,” Sarah informed him. “So I hope you like it.”

They passed the first few minutes in blissed out silence, both absorbed in the deliciousness of the meat and bread and truffle oil garlic fries sprinkled with parmesan. Sarah moaned in pleasure, unashamed, and leaned back in her chair. “This is perfect.”

The setting sun was shedding its last rays of light that she could see through the thick canvas of their tent, but there were a number of candles and lanterns spread about, casting them both into a soft yellow glow.

Sarah took a deep breath, wiping her face and fingers on a cloth napkin. “Did you have any pets, growing up?” She was thinking of Merlin. The poor dog had not lasted long after her Labyrinth run, they had found at only five years old he had severe lymphoma. Nothing survivable. They had done the humane thing and put him down. Her father had cried the whole night, and so had she. Toby had been too young to know, but he cried as well.

“I did have a pet growing up,” he said. “But first, love, where did you go? I can smell the sorrow.”

“Oh,” she said, heat flooding her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” She told him of Merlin. “It’s silly. Pets die. We know they do, but it hurts.”

“Yes,” he said, chin in his hand as he studied her across the table. “It does.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “We’re given familiars, when we enter puberty and our powers start to flow for the first time. Mine was a cat, Celia. She was purest black and had brilliant blue eyes. Long fur.” He smiled wistfully. “We share in our life force with our familiars, to bind them to us for all time. They’re never supposed to die.”

There was a long silence. Sarah did not speak, picking at the leavings on her plate instead, pushing a fry around her plate with another one.

“When I attempted the poisoning of the watchers, Celia was taken and killed as part of my punishment,” he said softly. “In front of me. Jahari led the process, and I felt every inch of what they did to her. I won’t—the details are not what I would divulge to anyone, love, so I ask that you let me keep it at this: they tortured her. Because of me, because of what I did, and the piece of me that was growing within her, supporting her, died with her.”

Jareth touched his chest, as though he could feel the place where a piece of him was missing. Then he chuckled. “I suppose I was wrong. I have touched grief twice, only—this feels more profound. The loss of Celia was a loss of self and of one I loved. You would have liked her. She was as soft as a cloud.”

Sarah’s heart hurt, and her eyes watered at his telling. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“There are cats and chickens and such aplenty among the Labyrinth,” he said, trying and failing to sound dismissive. “I suppose I have many pets, in my way, as I’m responsible for all who live within my kingdom.”

She smiled sadly and shook her head, reaching up to undo the wrap. Her hair fell down her back, damp but no longer sodden. “That’s terrible, Jareth. You suffered a great loss.”

“Yes,” he mused, watching her movements. “And was myself a target of my people for nearly a century afterward, because I stank so of grief. You know how we like it. But I would not let mine go. It was mine.” He said the last fiercely, and then startled, glancing at Sarah. “Is that why you do not wish me to drink more of yours? Because you fear that you will lose your connection to them altogether?”

She thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. “In part, yes. But also because it’s a little scary.”

“What is?”

“Seeing you lose control.”

He grinned lasciviously. “You see me lose control quite often, precious, when I’m buried inside you.”

She shivered. “That’s different.”

He tilted his head. “How come?”

This was another part of the evenings that she had to admit she enjoyed immensely. Jareth had been around for a very long time, and experienced much, but he still did not wholly understand human emotion and custom. It was not his world. Which was why she was so invested in learning about it.

“When we’re—you know,” she said, still conditioned by years of Sunday Catholic rearing that one did not talk about these things. Not even in private. “When we’re—”

“Fucking,” Jareth supplied, grin wide.

The prick was enjoying this. “Having sex,” Sarah said primly, sniffing. “And you lose control, I’m with you, right there with you, so we fall together.”

She closed her eyes to remembered sensation. They had been doing more and more adventurous things in the bedroom, and she was not quite sure how she felt about it, exactly. Turned on? Certainly. But sometimes she thought that Jareth enjoyed his games a little too much.

“So when I take of your grief, it is more frightening because you are alone in your sensation, and I alone in mine?” he asked, sounding perplexed.

“It’s not just that they’re separate sensations,” she explained. “But that you have loss of control during. You’re powerful, Jareth. More so than anyone I’ve ever met, except maybe your sister.”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

“Regardless, I’m still mortal. I can still get sick, still be hurt. What if you…” she trailed off, unwilling to voice the fears.

There was a long silence, and then Jareth spoke gently. “I will never hurt you, Sarah mine. I vow, I will never harm you.”

She pulled in a breath as the compact settled into place. He had done a handful of these over the last few weeks, and she had grown accustomed to how it felt like a string tied snug around her middle, before softly sinking beneath her skin.

Standing, Sarah began to pace. Jareth tracked her, nibbling on a final fry, his eyes gleaming in the dimness.

There was something about the way he watched her sometimes that made her want to run, still, even though her legs ached from earlier and all she wanted after that meal was bodily rest. Her mind was racing, however, going through all the questions she’d come up with over the last few days, plus all the ones that she had not gotten to previously.

Stopping, she faced him, folding her arms over her stomach. “Did you ever love anyone else? Before me?”

Jareth leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin before throwing it on the empty plate. “Yes.”

She held her breath.

He sighed. “Nothing like being with you, my love. Nothing so intense, nor… reciprocated.” He rose and came to her, taking one of her hands and leading her to the set of poufs and cushions that littered the floor in one spot, creating a nest of soft seats. “When I was still at court, before my banishment, there was someone. I loved her intensely, but she barely knew I existed.”

Sarah remembered what the strange fae woman had said, the one who had ordered her throat slit. Oh yes, you would be his type. “What did she look like?” Her stomach was twisting with the implications of the conversation, but she sank down into one of the poufs and settled against Jareth when he sat at her side, arm coming around to hold her. She could hear his heartbeat under her ear.

He was quiet for a time, gloved fingers playing in circles along her upper arm, before he said, “She looked a great deal like you. Blue eyes, but she was raven-haired, though it curled. The main difference, however, was in how she looked at others, and at me. She hated with an intensity unmatched in the court. Her loathing was palpable.”

“Her name is Iona, and to my knowledge she still lives, though I have thought little enough of her in the last few centuries.” He shook his head. “She is the scion of her house, one of the oldest and most influential in the court. And when she discovered that I had longings for her,” he stopped and laughed, the sound rueful. “She was not pleased to be anyone’s imagining. I found myself dangled over the Splintered Crystal Canyon by one of her younger brothers while she explained I was never to look her direction again, or be dropped into the shards thousands of yards below.” He shuddered. “Those crystals are what we fae fashion our personal weapons out of, for they can split our skin easily, and if they puncture they release a toxin deadly to our species.”

Sarah lifted her head to look at him. “And she had someone hold you over that?”

“Yes.”

“Bitch,” she muttered, settling back against him. “What was her problem, anyway? Why does she hate everyone?”

He chuckled. “Because she was raised to believe that her perspective is superior to all,” he said quietly. “And I was young, drawn more by her beauty than any of her other characteristics. If I had stopped to think it over, I would have realized quite quickly she was not compatible.”

“Why not?”

He shifted into a more comfortable position, legs splayed in front of him. “I want someone who wants me,” he said simply. “And she wanted nothing like that. It was more… collective. Once she had someone, she lost all interest in them, because they were hers.”

“Sounds boring as hell.”

Jareth laughed, and his arm squeezed her. “Do you have more questions for me?”

“Always,” she said, yawning through the word. “But I also want time to do other things.”

“Oh?” he asked, teasing. “What other things might there be that we could get up to?”

“First, one more question,” she said, though she was smiling, her fingers dancing along his brocade vest. “What will be expected of me, as the Goblin Queen?”

“Hm,” he murmured. “Quite the change in subject, precious. I can only guess to some level, and express my own hopes, but there has never been one before. We have no precedent.” His hand was traveling up her shoulder to her neck, curling into her still-damp hair and feathering under her ear, making her shiver. “It is my desire that you assist me with communication between the kingdoms, and are by my side or in my stead to host visiting dignitaries. I hope that you will bear some children, one day, for I do desire an heir. Again, there has never been one before, but I like changing the game.”

She could see his smile, gleeful, and could not help but smile back, and then shudder as magic hit her, drying her hair the rest of the way so that his fingers slipped through with ease. Making a low, appreciative noise, Sarah cuddled closer, her fingers traveling lower.

“I also would like for you to find projects of your own, love,” he said, his voice getting breathier the lower her hands swept. “If you wish to take to music or acting, I encourage you. We need more of the arts in—ah.”

She had cupped him, and found that he was partially hard, though as her fingers explored he quickly thickened. His hips flexed, pressing himself up into her touch, and his breath left in a hiss of pleasure. Nuzzling at his neck, Sarah slipped astride him, her thin linen garments like air between them. Her hands moved to cup his face, and he looked at her, his eyes glazed a little with lust, his gloved hands at her waist and working down.

“Precious, I’m going to stop answering your questions very soon,” he growled. “I can feel the heat of you against my cock.”

Sarah rocked forward, pressing that heat even tighter against him, and purred, “We can be done.”

Jareth pulled her face to him and captured her mouth, his tongue diving between her lips within an instant to taste her. She moaned into the kiss, the pressure at her core throbbing in time to her heartbeat.

He did not let her stay on top for long, rolling them so she was splayed beneath him, her hair fanning out on one of the floor cushions as he pushed her shirt up, baring her stomach.

“I want you,” he whispered in her ear, dragging his lips down her throat, down her chest, and taking one nipple in his mouth through the thin fabric of her shirt. She arched against the touch, panting, and he lifted his head with a knowing smile. “Tell me what you want.”

Sarah wiggled, feeling her cheeks flame. It was one of Jareth’s favorite things; to be told what she wanted to do in bed. Part of it, she was sure, was that it embarrassed her. Especially when—

Jareth traced the seam of her crotch, causing her to jerk, and he chuckled. “I won’t do a thing until you tell me.”

“Liar,” she whispered hotly. “You want this just as much.”

“Oh, I do. Maybe more. But I can withstand. Can you?” his laughter was low and seductive.

There was a part of her that would have stamped her foot if she could. He was settled between her parted legs, the heat of him soaking through the thin garments she wore, the hard press of his lust undeniable. She ran hands up his chest, then removed one of his gloves, flinging it to the side before reaching for the other.

Jareth watched her do this, helped her as she went, but stayed silent.

She took a breath, letting it out slowly to calm her heartbeat before answering. “We’ve been doing a lot of, uh, preparation,” she said softly, her gaze flicking away from him time and again even though he was smiling at her. “And I think I’m ready. I want to feel you… back there.”

His expression shifted, going from slight amusement to pure need. His voice was so low it was like the beginning rumbles of thunder. “To be clear…” he leaned down, his hair tickling her as his breath coiled against her neck and ear. She shivered. “You want me to stick this,” he ground against her and she whimpered, legs falling open further. “In your ass?”

She must have been glowing brilliant red, but she nodded. “Please.”

“Oh,” he sighed. “Bed, I think. I want this done right.”

Sarah’s heart was hammering, so much so that her pulse was almost all she could hear as he climbed off her and then reached down, helping her to a wobbly stand. She was already so keyed up that she could barely think, and she knew that he knew that. It was in every centimeter of his smile.

“I’m going to remind you that you can stop this whenever you wish,” Jareth murmured, leading her to their shared bed, a giant mattress stuffed with down. He stopped her before it, lifting her shirt over her head and pulling her trousers down so she was fully naked. Kneeling before her, he slipped one of his naked fingers up through her slit, and she gasped, knees partway buckling before she caught herself. “Gods, I love how wet you are for me,” he said. “But I’m going to love claiming your ass even more, Sarah mine.”

She shuddered as his fingers continued to move and probe within her, and soon she was trembling, even more as he circled up and around her clit. “Oh,” she sighed. “Jareth, I’m—I’m nervous.”

“I know,” he whispered, leaning forward and lapping at the juices coming from her. Her hands went to his shoulders and the back of his head, rocking forward against the pressure of his tongue.

Jareth licked her thoroughly, circling her clit and then pulling it into his mouth, sucking it as she cried out.

He brought her to orgasm twice before relenting, pulling back with a glistening mouth and chin, his grin wide as she panted.

She climbed onto the bed, Jareth following with a peppering of magic that dissipated his clothing, leaving him naked save for the pendant, just like her. His cock was standing straight up, like an exclamation point, precum glistening on the tip. She reached for him and he moaned as she explored him. “On your back.”

She was a little surprised, but did as he asked and lay back while he arranged pillows under her hips, raising them to him. His expression was somewhere between lustful, greedy, and anticipatory. But there was also that he kept glancing at her, checking to make sure she was still with him, still wanting.

There was no one she could have imagined but him doing this, and she said so. “I’m so glad it’s you.”

He dipped fingers into her again, causing her to gasp and lift her hips.

They had been playing with fingers and some small toys that Jareth had with him to help stretch and acclimate her ass to being filled, but nothing they had used came close to his length and girth. He assured her that it would be fine, but she was still a little nervous as he dribbled oil onto his cock and rubbed it along the length. He poured more onto his fingers and began to probe her ass, his fingers slipping inside easily.

Sarah cried out at being filled, with first two fingers and then three, which he used to stretch her even further. Rocking up to meet the pressure, she reached for her clit, rubbing gently as he continued to probe her.

“That’s it, lover,” he murmured. “Keep touching yourself.”

He withdrew his fingers and she whimpered at the loss, but then gasped at the feel of the head of his cock against her tight entrance. It was so warm.

“I’m going to be slow at first, Sarah. Very slow. Let your body get used to me.”

Jareth moved her legs up, then took himself in hand and began to press gently, easing and pressing so soft that she began to wonder if he would ever be able to gain entrance. Her fingers continued to rub in slow circles over her clit, and she felt her body relax by degrees at his gentle probing.

“There,” he whispered, eyes on the juncture of their bodies.

That instant she felt a slight sting, and then—

“Oh!” she cried, stretched so incredibly wide. Her free hand scrabbled at the covers, clawing them into a tight fist. “Gods!” she gasped.  

“That’s only the first bit, my love. You have much more to take.” He turned and kissed her knee, feathering lips down her calf. “Breathe.”

Sarah let out another gasping breath she had not realized she was holding, and her fingers slipped over newly slick skin. “I don’t know if I can,” she warned, feeling almost uncomfortably full.

“If it starts to hurt, let me know. We don’t have to do this tonight,” he said, though there was a strain in his voice.

She had relaxed more because of the talk, and Jareth began to ease forward.

Sarah choked, but it was—oh, gods, it was glorious. He was still so slow, so careful, pulling out by small amounts before pressing in again, and it was just… perfect. Small sounds were falling from her, and her heart was beginning to race. Fingers slid over the hard nub of her clit and she cried out, careful not to move too much while the orgasm ricochet through her.

“You just came with my cock in your ass,” he rasped. “You’ve never looked so beautiful.”

He said this all the time, but she whimpered, reaching for him.

“Not yet, love. I need to keep some control,” he said, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in further than before. “You’ve almost taken all of me.”

Sarah moaned, back arching, and he slipped further into her, so deep she could feel him pressing the core of her. “Gods, Jareth, please. You feel so good.”

“Do I?” He asked, still strained-sounding. “I’m going to start to fuck you now. Keep touching yourself.”

There had never been a feeling compared to this. The fullness, the pressure.

Jareth pulled out and added more oil to his cock, then began to pump into her. Gently at first, when she responded only with cries for more he began to pick up the pace.

“Gods, oh, gods,” she said again and again, coming once more as his tempo increased even further. “Jareth, I can’t—”

“You can,” he growled, and slowed as he eased on top of her, his mouth finding hers as his hips continued to flex. She pulled her hand out from between them, and he was angled in such a way that with each thrust he rubbed against her clit ever so gently.

Sarah clutched him, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, and called out, surprised as much as anything, as his increasingly intense thrusts caused her to crest once more. “Oh, fuck,” she swore, breaking his kiss.

“Sarah, you’re so beautiful,” Jareth murmured against her neck. “So tight. Gods, you feel so good.”

His breathing was getting ragged, and Sarah lifted her legs, wrapping them around him as he started to reach his end. “Yes,” she groaned. “I want to feel you come in me.”

“Oh, hell,” Jareth swore, and slammed into her once more, hard, shocking her to her core, and then he was gasping, cock twitching within her as it emptied.

Sarah could hardly breathe. The sensation of him inside her was still so much, so filling, that even as he eased out of her she could feel the phantom stretch. “I didn’t…” she trailed off, catching her breath, then tried again. “I did not know it would feel that good.”

Jareth chuckled. “You liked it?”

“Very much.”

“Do you hurt at all?”

She did an internal assessment. “A little sore, but no.”

They stayed wrapped in each other speaking of little things for a few minutes before necessity pulled Sarah to the bath. When she had finished, Jareth made the tub large enough for them both and they cleansed themselves together.

One thing Sarah enjoyed about her life Underground so far was how healthy she felt. The food here was cleaner than what she had access to the in Above, and with her daily—sometimes twice daily—runs, plus all the activities in the bedroom, she felt strong.

Jareth remarked on the muscles in her legs as he helped dry her, and said her ass looked incredible. She smiled at him, dropping the drying sheet before pulling him into a kiss.

They crashed together back into the main area of the pavilion, but Sarah did not take him to the bed. Instead, she bent over the long dark wood desk that often contained maps and missives. It was bare now, so she stretched herself over it, lifting her ass in the air and wiggling it a little, looking over her shoulder at him.

Jareth looked mesmerized, reaching for and fondling her backside, breathing growing heavy as his fingers trailed to her core and found her molten hot and slick. “Gods, I thank you,” he whispered, and lined himself up with her, thrusting into her channel.  

Sarah cried out, nails digging into the wood grain, and pushed back against his motions, increasing their tempo. She was so wet that she could feel it dripping down her inner thighs.

Jareth pounded into her, his grip on her hip and one hand pressing down on her back, keeping her in place.

She came twice before his end came to him, releasing into her with a snarl.

By all the gods, she loved this. The slide of his body compared to nothing else she had experienced in the past.

Jareth carried her to the bed, laying her out as she started to feel sleep rushing toward her, demanding. He kissed her, from temple to chin, and then her lips. “I love you, Sarah Williams.”

She was tired, and perhaps that coupled with all that had just transpired conspired to loosen her tongue. “I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

“Good morning, lover,” whispered a voice, pulling her out of dreams. Sarah’s eyes fluttered and she stretched, feeling both sore and sated.

“Yes, good morning, lover,” whispered the same voice from a different direction.

“We’ve been waiting for you to rise,” said a third.

Sarah’s eyes shot open, and she looked over, seeing Jareth stretched out by her side. And sitting at the foot of the bed, hand resting on her ankle.

And sitting in one of the camp chairs by the bed, watching the rest with glittering eyes and steepled fingers.

Sarah rubbed her eyes, sure that the sleepiness was getting to her somehow.

But no, they remained. There were three Jareth’s.

“How are there three of you?” she whispered, unsure if she was still dreaming. This seemed like something out of dreams. Just the thought was enough to bring heat to her cheeks. “Why are there three of you?”

“Four, to be completely transparent. The fourth is out attending to the camp and war effort. He pulled the short straw.” The one who spoke was the one on the chair, his legs crossed with an ankle on one knee. “I’m a magical being, Sarah mine. There is much I can do. To create temporary doppelgängers is one of those things, though it’s not a magic I’ve used often.”

She pushed up to a seated position, looking between them all. Her color was still high, she could feel it. “So, what, you… copied yourself? Which one of you is the real one?” She reached out, tentative, before threading fingers through the hair of the one by her feet. He leaned into her touch, and she could not help her smile. He felt real. “Or is this an illusion?”

“More a copy than an illusion, love,” said the one still lying lengthwise on the bed. “We are all, temporarily, Jareth the Goblin King. Semi-separate entities. We can move independently, act freely, but at sunset we will all become one person once more.” He grinned at her. “You have us the whole day. We won’t be marching again until dawn tomorrow.”

“There’s a storm,” said the one on the camp chair. “Not that will hit us directly, but its deluge will come down in the direction we’re supposed to be moving. We want to wait it out.”

“And,” whispered the one she had touched, palm skimming along her exposed thigh. She had only worn a sleep shirt to bed. “We wanted time with you.”

“Because you love me, Sarah Williams,” continued the one on the bed, who had sat up so that he was somewhat behind her, hand caressing her shoulder. She shivered. “You said so.”

“It’s something worth celebrating,” said Jareth in the chair. “In a way most delicious.”

“Most deviant,” murmured the one now leaning in, breath caressing the shell of her ear. “And sensuous.”

Sarah shuddered as the hand on her shoulder slid down her front, cupping her breast. Another hand rested on her waist, and then—

There were hands everywhere. She lost track of who it was, and there was still a Jareth sitting to the side, just watching! His smile was wicked, and he was obviously enjoying himself if the growing bulge in his trousers were any indication.

Teeth grazed her neck and her head fell back to give greater access, back arching. Hands slipped up the hem of her sleep shirt, fingers feathering along her thighs and stomach, her hips, but never where she most wanted it.

Sarah whimpered and grasped the shoulders of the one closest to her, turning her face to him for a kiss that he greedily accepted, mouth hungry over hers. And then those fingers—belonging to the other—slid ever so gracefully toward the core of her, and she heard the murmured hiss of his anticipation.

The pads of long fingers began to gently circle her clit and Sarah gasped, parting from the kiss but her grip still on Jareth’s shoulder. She wiggled a little, dislodging the others hand, and they both went still as she said, “I’m sorry, I need to stop for… just a moment, I think. I need to breathe.”

Her heart was going so fast she thought it might explode. Not only that, but she needed the bathroom, and she was just—overwhelmed. There were three of him. And one of her, and—

Oh.

She slid off the bed, the two Jareth’s assisting her movements, and shook down her sleep shirt from where it had been rumpled up to expose some parts of her she’d prefer to remain hidden for the moment. This one hit her a little under mid-thigh, and she was grateful for the length. She backed up. Camp chair Jareth rose, concern on his features. “Are you alright, Sarah?”

She nodded, glancing between the three of them. “The three of you… together?”

“At least once. That was the idea,” said the one who had touched her so intimately. “I am a master of dreams, Sarah. I have seen yours.”

She swallowed, nodding so fast she was like a bobblehead. “Give me a minute.” Hating to think of herself as fleeing, she forced herself to turn and walk sedately to the partitioned off bathing area. She did her business and then found herself seated at the vanity, looking at herself in the mirror.

Sarah had filled out in muscle with some areas and slimmed down in others. She had never been in as good of shape as this. Even through the sleep shirt it was evident.

Glancing at some of the beauty potions arrayed on the vanity, she selected a perfume that smelled sweetly of almonds, orange blossoms, and the herbal tang of basil. It was one of her favorites that Jareth had presented her with, and she anointed herself with it behind the ears and at the pulse points of her wrists.

Am I really going to do this? She thought, not for the first time since entering the Underground. It seemed the last few months had been a whirlwind of novel experiences.

And this. This was something out of pure fantasy, but…

She clenched her legs together as her core gave off a throb of anticipatory pleasure. Shivering, she made sure the stopper on the perfume bottle was back on, then gave her hair a loose plait before rising and joining the three Jareth’s back in the main room.

They were huddled together, speaking softly, but stopped the moment she came into view.

It was arresting, being pinned by three mismatched gazes at once, but it was also made her feel a little uneasy. They watched her as she approached, halting just out of reach.

“If I say stop, we stop?” she asked.

“Always,” they said in unison.

“To be clear, you all want to be—” she swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry. “You all want to be inside of me at once?”

She had never been the object of such intensity. “Yes,” one of them growled. “We want to fill you in every way a woman can be filled.”

At that statement, Sarah was surprised her knees didn’t give out. “Just one thing?” she asked, her voice breathy. “Next time, talk to me before you spring something like this.”

Gleeful smiles, all.

“Does that mean yes?” Jareth asked.

In answer, Sarah grasped the hem of her sleep shirt and lifted it off herself in one fluid movement.

They were on her instantly, and by the way they moved she wondered if there was some kind of subtle communication going on, for they acted as one. It should not have surprised her so much, but it did.

Jareth lifted her chin, mouth coming down on hers. She held onto him as more hands ran down her ribs and stomach.

She was touched everywhere. Pressed on all sides. They were not shy about touching each other, either, though not with any lustful intent. Only there was no hesitancy if touching her meant brushing against or touching another of himself in the process. Sarah had seen some videos, when in the dormitories and people were well into their cups. There had been some frat guys with VHS collections. The scenes involving multiple partners always seemed awkward to her, as though the men were afraid of coming off as into each other instead of the female partner.

That wasn’t the case here. Jareth kissed her, and Jareth knelt behind her, spreading her legs a little so that he could gain the access he needed to begin stroking her gently. Sarah whimpered as Jareth also caressed her breasts, teasing her nipples until taking one into his mouth, sucking hard.

She felt dizzy, and then fingers were circling her clit and she was crying out, breaking the kiss and burying her face in his neck as she came.

Panting, Sarah kept making little noises as they moved her to the bed, one getting onto it, stroking himself as he leaned against the pillows stacked against the headboard, his cock standing tall. They had all become naked while she was kissing the one, and she had not even noticed the magic that did it.

“Come here and put your lips around me,” he said, his gaze dark with need.

Sarah crawled onto the mattress, reaching for his heated length and stroking several times as he hissed and thrust upward with his hips. She did this for a moment as another kneeled behind her, palm rubbing over her rear before dipping inside her with long fingers. As soon as that pressure was inside her, she moaned and took the one before her in her mouth, loving the familiar taste and smell of him as he cried out, his hands twisting the covers under his clawing grip.

Another Jareth stroked her back and whispered to her while her head bobbed over the one. She licked him thoroughly, hips flexing against the other as he played with her with his hand. She popped the cock out of her mouth and gasped, “Someone get inside me. Please.” Then went back to sucking on the heated shaft. She was so wet she was starting to drip down her thighs.

“Oh, precious,” one groaned, and she felt the head of him between her folds a moment before he thrust into her.

She had never thought she could gain so much sensation from a cock in her mouth, but that coupled with the one between her legs made her come almost immediately. She cried out, stroking and thrusting back against each of them.

She became nothing but sensation. For how long she was in that position she didn’t know, but she came several more times before they moved her on top of the one she had been sucking. He moved down the bed a little, and she sank down onto his length with a groan of satisfaction.

For a moment it was simply the two of them, his grip tight on her hips as she rode him. Then they were guiding her down, so that her breasts were pressed to his chest. Arms wrapped around her while he pistoned into her for a moment, leaving her gasping. Then he went still, thrust deep within her, and she felt oiled fingers probing her ass.

She thought she would have been more sensitive considering last night, but she felt nothing but sweet sensation as fingers slid inside her, pumping gently. Held tight in place, Sarah wanted to press back against that pressure, but she was kept still, her face pressed against his shoulder. Someone brought her hand to rest on a heated cock and she began stroking, turning her face to look up at him as she did. Jareth’s eyes were closed, the planes of his abdomen rippling as he flexed against her hand.

So focused on the motion of her hand she forgot, for a second, what was going on in other places. Then three fingers slid from her ass entirely and she made a small sound. “Please,” she whispered.

“Are you ready?”

Sarah could not see, but she nodded, knowing what he was asking. “I want you everywhere.”

She squeezed down on the pressure within her as she did, and Jareth under her groaned, grip tightening. “Hurry,” he said, the strain in his voice echoes of the night before. “I need to move.”

“We’re not hurrying this,” said the one behind her, and she felt him press his heated self against her tight entrance. Tighter, now, because she was already filled in other places. He swore. “Relax, Sarah.”

She tried, caressing the cock in her hand, massaging the tip and spreading precum down the length. He was the only one she could see from this angle, and he caught her gaze now. “I want your mouth around me,” he said, his words a groan.

She could only just lift her head, and so he had to feed it to her, sliding his length into her carefully, watching for when she began to have a reaction and pulling back. She moaned, eyes sliding shut, as a cock pressing against her ass again and again until—

She cried out, muffled though it was, as that pressure pushed passed her entrance and slid deep inside her. “Gods,” cried the one fucking her there. “Oh, yes, you feel incredible. So tight.”

Sarah tapped the chest of the one holding her and he relaxed his grip enough that she could lift herself just a bit off him, taking more control of the one she was sucking. She slid him out of her mouth and took in a great gasp of air, coughing a little. Her lips and chin were wet with spit, but more—

“Fuck,” she moaned. “Fuck me. Please. You all feel so good.”

She bent back to take Jareth in her mouth, but as the other two began to move, she was lost to sensation, and he began to fuck her mouth gently, holding her head in place as he thrust between her moaning lips.

She was filled so much that she could hardly think.

They were slow at first, gliding in and out of her in motions that meant one always filled her at least partway. But as her cries increased, as did the flexing of her hips, their own motions started to lose their careful control.

The first time he slammed into her ass she screamed, and he went still, but when her mouth was free she panted, “Don’t you dare stop.”

Low laughter, masculine and laced with the lust they were all drowning in.

Sarah could not believe this was happening. Not when the one thrusting into her mouth shuddered, warning her with a whisper a few moments before emptying into her. She swallowed him down as he cried out, and that sent the one beneath her into a frenzy, pumping upward until she broke from the other with a slight cry, her orgasm rushing toward her on the end of his own.

The final Jareth pulled from her as she trembled with aftershocks, and then had her move to all fours at the base of the bed before sliding into her ass once more. She could feel leavings dripping down her legs, and taste him on her tongue.

“You’re so beautiful, Sarah,” said the one who had been beneath her, sliding over to stroke the back of her neck and shoulders as she continued to be fucked.

“You’ve never been so beautiful,” the other whispered, his lips pressing to hers, though he had to be at an odd angle to accomplish it.

She moaned into the kiss, and whimpered as the man behind began to pound into her, fierce and hard, before going still, crying out as his cock twitched deep within her.

Sarah was quaking so intensely by the time he slid from her ass that she collapsed onto her belly, arms holding her gently from all sides as she shook like a leaf.

She felt—as though her insides had been thoroughly stretched, as though she had been marked from them with every thrust. Something about this, though she had experienced him in every one of those places independently, made every sensation the more intense.

“Talk to us, Sarah,” said one, voice gentle. She could barely hear him over the pounding of her heart.

“Yes,” said another. “We need to be sure you’re okay.”

She swallowed, her mouth dry, and gave a low, tired chuckle. “That was probably the best wake-up sex we’ve done to date.”

Low laughter, and hands stroking her skin, her sides, hair, and legs. Sarah shivered, still pulsing from the ghostly sensation of the three of them together.

“I must confess that the oil we’ve been using on you has been speeding your healing, and increasing sensation,” One of the Jareth’s said. “Normally a mortal needs greater recovery time between sessions.”

Sarah rubbed her thighs together. Her pulse was a throb between her legs. Her next words were shuddering, “Is that why I want you in me again already?”

“Oh, love. That can be arranged,” one said, climbing atop her. She lay there as he very slowly pressed his heated length into her. She was so wet, yet still she could sense every inch of him.

Gasping and moaning, Sarah gripped the hands of another as the one fucking her began to speed, the wet slapping sound of his balls hitting her upper thighs astoundingly erotic. The third Jareth stirred. “Would you allow me in your mouth?” he whispered, stroking himself. He was almost entirely hard.

Sarah nodded, overcome. This was so far beyond anything she could have imagined for her life, her future. And this? This was like heaven.

She could do this forever.

###

It had been at least three hours by the time Sarah called a halt and begged for a bath and food.

She had thought she had known pampering before. It was nothing like this, now.

They had done some magic, cleansing themselves in an instant, but Sarah still liked the slow approach. She stepped into a steaming bath, helped in as her legs trembled. One tended to her hair, and then one knelt on either side of the tub and massaged her hands, her arms.

She nearly fell asleep.

“We have exhausted her,” one chuckled.

She kept her eyes closed to slits, barely looking at them.

“She’s done remarkably well, for a mortal,” another said, raising her hand to his mouth where he lay a kiss on her palm. “We have had fae lovers with less stamina.”

Sarah’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Or,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying out so often, from screaming with pleasure. “It’s because it’s you.”

“It still pains me, some, to know you never experienced all the pleasures of the bedroom before you came to me.”

“I didn’t come to you, you kidnapped me, just like you did Toby.”

Laughter from all sides, and she was helped to a stand by all three before they began drying her gently. “Are you saying you suffer from Stockholm Syndrome, my lady? Are you only trying to seduce your captor to be safe?”

“I barely had to do a thing,” she breathed. “You came on strong.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Another said.

She closed her eyes as they finished drying her, held on several sides. Incense and magic and something infinitely Jareth surrounded her. “I love you,” she said softly, near-whispering the words. She opened her eyes to find them looking at her. “Maybe that’s why this is so easy.”

A kiss, gentle and sweet. She sighed into it, leaning forward, her body naked and warm, dry and clean-smelling. Her hair was still damp, but he curled his hand around it and the base of her neck, holding her there while the kiss went on.

“There is something so incredible,” said another. “About watching you kiss me.”

“You kiss me as though you’re tasting something delectable,” the last continued. “I could kiss you for years.”

“An eternity,” agreed the one she had been pressed to, pulling back just enough to get the words out. “If you’ll have me.”

“I will,” she breathed, stomach fluttering with the implications of what she was saying, of what they were confessing to one another.

They escorted her to the main tent. Fed her, laughed with her, shared stories where they finished each other’s sentences. It was incredible, to have them like this, with her.

None of them bothered with clothes, which ended up being the correct move. As she was finishing her meal, peach juice dribbled down her chin from the bite she took of the fruit, and one of Jareth was there, pressing his mouth to her chest where the juice had trailed. His tongue followed that line up to her mouth, and then the peach was forgotten on the carpet.

They took her once more, together, the sensation so intense that she was streaming tears near the end, assuring him it was fine, it was just so good.

Jareth took her at her word, and they kept at her until she had come a handful more times, and each of them emptied into her in turn.

Sarah lost consciousness soon after that, in a way she had never experienced before where one moment she was laughing with the three of them, and the next she was jerking awake, nestled in the crook of his arms.

“Hello, my love,” he crooned. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

She pushed to a seated position, looking around. It was just the two of them. “No more doppelgängers?”

“No,” he said, smugly smiling. “We are one, once more. And I can remember being inside of you, all of you, all at once. It is the most intense of recollections.” Stretching, he reached for her, and she allowed to be pulled back down onto the bed. “Now. What did you think?”

Yawning against the back of her hand, Sarah said, “I think that you’re going to have to hold to your promise.”

“To talk to you first?”

She nodded, rubbing at her eyes. She felt as though she had been asleep for a whole night, not just a handful of hours. “As much as that was divine and, yes, it was… I need forewarning for the most part. Is that going to be okay?”

He nodded, grinning at her. “I’m fine with it. Now,” he rubbed her back in slow circles. “Tell me one more time, Sarah Williams. I want to hear it.”

She smiled. “You’re going to hear it a lot more than just once.”

He kissed her fingers, curled around his own hand.

Smiling, Sarah threaded fingers through that metallic white-gold hair. “I love you, Jareth.”

He sighed, then. Hauled her face up for a kiss. When he was finished he whispered back, “And I love you. I always will.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen

Sarah had never before seen mountains like these.

They were jagged in the way of knives, nothing but sharp, jutting rock covered with dustings of snow. It was high summer at this point, but at the very peak of those mountains were thick caps. She could spy the thinnest rivulets of mountain rivers flowing into waterfalls, so many they were like many bleeding wounds across the rock face. Some of them seemed partway frozen, no motion to be found.

“We’re crossing that?” she asked, incredulous. The formation had appeared days ago, but now they were at the sloping foothills, she could see nothing but an impenetrable wall of granite.

“Aye,” Hoggle said. “In a manner of speaking.”

She poked him in the side. “Don’t do that, Mr. Enigmatic Mayor. Talk plainly.”

The dwarf snorted and motioned at the road they were on, wide and well-traveled. “The Trolls control this region. Our friend Ludo can trace his lineage back to the old royal family here, did you know that? There was a war some centuries back that has him in exile, just like your dearly beloved.”

Now Sarah pinched him. “Are you always going to hold that against me? That I chose him?”

“Chose him,” Hoggle grumbled, shaking his head. “You didn’t have much choice, Sarah. Not with the prophecy and his claimant on you.”

“I could have said no. I could have asked him for a divorce by now. This claim of his seems tenuous at best.”

Hoggle sniffed. “If you says so.” He motioned at the road again. “This leads straight to the Troll Kingdom stronghold, the castle under the mountain. We’re going there, first, or at least you and Jareth and some of the upper mucky-mucks, I suspect.” Snorting his low opinion of those who led in the Goblin King’s army, Hoggle continued. “This has been in negotiations for years. The trolls don’t let anyone cross their mountains. No one knows how to get through. It’s not on any map. Everyone goes ‘round.”

Sarah surveyed the range which led as far as the eye could see in either direction. They were setting up camp, she and Hoggle standing near her mammoth, Lily, who she was feeding. After more than three months of travel, she had grown quite fond of her mount. The mammoth had a keen intelligence which shone from her inky black eyes. Even now she played a little with Sarah’s hair, flipping strands behind her shoulder and blowing air in her face. Sarah laughed a little and scratched her trunk. “Am I ignoring you?”

Lily lowed, and accepted the just-ripe mango, flat teeth making quick work of the fruit. Sarah patted her side and moved away to let the grooms take over the rest of her needs. The mammoth would be fully brushed down and given plenty of grass, grains, and fruit to feast upon. She deserved it after carrying the weight of several people and supplies through the long, hot day.

Though she had been mounted all day, reading and meeting with her friends, Sarah craved nothing more than a hot bath and a good meal.

There was more in store for the day, however, and she knew it as Jareth approached, a stern expression on his beautiful face.

Sarah skipped the last few feet separating the two of them and planted a kiss on his mouth before he could say a thing, then pulling back before he could deepen it or recover from his shock. She laughed in his face and danced away when he reached for her, shooting him a coy look.

“Minx,” he growled, but a smile tugged the corners of his mouth, and there was a promise in his gaze. But that was quickly wiped away when he said, “The Trolls have already extended their invitation. We’re to meet them soon, and there is a feast tonight in our honor at their palace.” He frowned. “Ludo has been expressly forbidden from partaking in any official function. Apparently there is still a faction that wish to see him or his kin on the throne. There has been unrest.”

Sarah lifted her chin. “So that’s why they said yes to you, because the current monarchs would gain some power and control by allying themselves with the goblin kingdom.”

His smile was proud without being condescending. “Just so, my love.”

Hoggle gagged.

Sarah shot him a dirty look, then reached for Jareth. “I need to bathe, and change.”

He sighed. “There is no time. May I?”

Wrinkling her nose, Sarah nodded, and the next moment she was showered with his magic. Though it was supposed to leave her as cleansed and fresh-feeling as when she would step out of the tub, it never felt the same to her. This time there was the sense of being anointed with oils, and she smelled fresh basil and lemongrass, over a layer of darker incense that was all Jareth. It was as though even by scent he were claiming her, if it weren’t evident enough by her mannerism and the pendant the twin to his own at her breast.

It winked above a low-cut bodice now, and glancing down Sarah saw layers of velvet and silk, embroidered delicately with climbing vines and budding flowers. She looked and smelled like a garden in the apex of Spring. It was a sleeveless gown, and she was thankful for it in the heat. Her hair was now swept up, pinned by combs she could not see but felt against her scalp. Her eyelashes felt heavy, and she knew there was makeup dusting her face, her skin tight with it.

Still, Sarah smiled, a curve of her lips that echoed Jareth’s. “Do we match?”

He was wearing his usual billowing shirt with vest, this one a dark green with golden embroidery and multicolored flowers. Dark green, nearly black pants disappeared into black boots. Due to the weather he was foregoing his usual formal jacket, but there were golden cufflinks at his wrists studded with perfect emeralds the size of marbles. The marks on his eyes were brilliant green and gold, sweeping up to his brows. Gold dusted his high cheekbones and the tips of his pointed ears.

Jareth smirked at her frank assessment. “We do. Shall I summon a mirror that you may gaze upon yourself? You are a vision.”

He said such things often. She had been treated with such indifference by so many people, for so long, that his open admiration was near-uncomfortable.

Sarah shook off such thoughts, however, as he offered his arm, and she took it, the star sapphire ring winking on her left hand. She had other jewelry now, but this one was her favorite. That, and the pendant. Brushing her free hand against it now, she was rewarded with a rush of affectionate warmth. She had learned the artifact possessed a sort of sentience. A link to the consciousness that was the Labyrinth.

Jareth had not told her. She had worked it out for herself weeks ago, and confronted him with it. He had smiled, then, and said, “Consider it my last test, precious. I wished to know if you could find the truth.”

She had snarled at that, and they had fought for hours.

Sarah had thrown things at him that night, when she had realized her arguments were worn through, and there would be no compromise in this. They saw things quite differently. He wanted to make sure she was strong enough, and she could tap into the innate nature of the Underground. Of Faerie. She, alternatively, needed Jareth to understand she could not bear secrets like this. Not when they concerned events still unfolding.

So in her rage she had hurled anything she could grasp hold of until he made all of it disappear with a snap of his fingers, and they stood on bare carpet.

And then they had made up, deliciously. Once there was nothing between them, and it was only his words, soothing and sultry. His voice, mesmerizing. He brought all the furniture back and they celebrated by fucking on each piece in turn.

“Where did you go, my love?” Jareth whispered, a knowing smile flashing her way. “I can smell the change in you.” He hesitated and, screaming reluctance, murmured, “Others can, too.”

Embarrassment flushed Sarah’s cheeks, and she whispered back, “Later.”

She was still getting accustomed to being around creatures who could scent changes in her. When she had her period the first time, everyone had grown deferential. She had been grateful but flabbergasted until Jareth explained it to her. Moon blood was sacred, used in ceremonies of a religious nature, and those who were under its sway were considered close to the gods in those days.

They could smell when she was ovulating, too, and when she was stressed or angry. To walk into a room and have everyone know in an instant how your state of mind was like a bizarre invasion of her privacy. But, strangely, she was growing used to it.

The journey to the mountain was too long to make on foot or even mounted, so Jareth held her close. Asked, “Are you ready?”

She gave a nod, tightening her grip on him, and the next thing she knew they were standing in a lavish courtyard surrounded by high stone walls of what looked like smokey quartz, flanked by Neira and another guard in full military formalwear.

And there were trolls everywhere. In shades of russet, gold, gray, purest white, and faded black. They looked similar enough to Ludo in some regards, with wide faces and features, curling tusks, horns, and floppy ears, but there were many among these who were far larger. All of them were well over her own height. Some looked closer in stature to small giants.

“Welcome, Jareth, King of the Goblins, the Labyrinth, and the Underground Nation. Welcome to you, as well, Sarah Williams, Champion of the Labyrinth.”

The one who spoke did not look at them, and held a tall, curving staff of pure crystal.

“We are grateful for your invitation, King Hektor of House Isolde, and Princess Winola of House Forte,” Jareth said, still holding Sarah and speaking to two trolls who stood side by side at the entrance to the vast castle. All of the creatures in the courtyard were wearing some kind of accessory—a sash, a vest, a jeweled belt, or even uniforms in the case of the guard and scribes—but these two were bedecked in finery befitting royalty. Cloth of gold hung heavy against Hektor’s black and Winola’s gray fur, the gaze of both the trolls assessing and intelligent. “It is well understood that you do not host many guests, and we are enchanted at this opportunity to get to know your people and kingdom.”

The king of the trolls nodded his head, not far enough to dislodge the wide crown atop his head. “You are a friend to us,” he said, his voice the rumbling crash of boulders against one another. “Friends help each other. Today is our turn, but tomorrow? It could be yours.”

Jareth flashed a sharp smile. “Just so.”

###

Sarah peeled off from Jareth soon after they entered the castle, going with Princess Winola and her entourage to an oppulant sitting room, where she was served tea and cake.

“So you are to be Goblin Queen,” the Princess said when they had all sat and been served. Her gray fur was more silver in the glow of crystal lanterns. “They say you have long been destined to walk among us.”

Sarah kept her back and shoulders straight, sipping delicately at the sweet, hot tea. It was strong, bracing, and just what she needed for the conversation at hand. So far there had not been a direct question, but to ignore the comments entirely would be rude. “I’ve heard the same,” she said at last, with a slight smile. “Jareth tells me we are meant to be together.”

The female trolls laughed, their voices low and gravelly, yet still somewhat musical. The Princess most of all, her head tilted back. “What things these fae say!”

Sarah smiled, crossing her ankles as she set down her half-empty cup, before folding her hands in her lap. “I heard you’ve almost never let in outsiders,” she said, her voice a conspiratorial theater whisper. “Is the Goblin King truly that persuasive?”

“You tell us,” said one of the handmaidens, chortling slightly at her own jest. The others gave her a look but several smiled, including Winola.

Sarah held up a hand, the one shining with the star sapphire. “Honestly, my new friends, I have been trying to catch up on my history and current events, but I’m from the Above. I know so little about this world and its customs and people.”

Princess Winola seemed to relax, and asked, “How long has it been now?”

“Three and a half months,” Sarah answered, and flushed a little, thinking of how it had seemed both to stretch on, tedious, and yet? She had never felt this way before.

As though she were whole.

It also meant she had no more than ten weeks to go until her marriage with Jareth was permanent as one could get in the Underground.

And they still did not truly know how much time this shortcut through the mountains would save them. Jareth’s best guesses were they would reach the wellspring in a month. If they had to take the long way around, it would be more than five.

And she still had ten wishes, in total.

As though Winola read her mind, she rumbled, “We heard that you have been gifted with incredible power. The Laurels of Faerie.”

Jareth had called them that once, too, and Sarah tilted her head a little to hear the expression again. “Have there been others who have won wishes?”

“None that we could confirm,” Princess Winola said, dark eyes assessing and shrewd. “But where do you think the fae got the power to control the wellspring? Someone took the gifts that Faerie gave them and twisted them.” Sarah could have sworn the silver-gray fur began to rise, as though standing on end. “What have you done with your wishes, lady Sarah?”

She heard the challenge in those words and rose to it, speaking her truth without shame. “I freed my friends from an enchantment that could otherwise not be lifted. I healed myself, when assassins came and slit my throat. And I asked to know more. I hear that wish is still being worked, as it was so open-ended. Jareth does not know when it will stop.”

Probably when she was dead, but she did not want to think of that. Especially as that end might indeed be speeding toward her.

“Only three,” Winola sighed. “The power to shape reality itself, and you have used it to help friends, gain knowledge, and heal.” She glanced between her companions, who all nodded, suddenly solemn.

Sarah frowned. “What’s going on?”

Princess Winola set down her tea. “We are cursed, because we overthrew the old king. Your friend Ludo is one of the last sired of that bloodline, and once he has children their claim, too, will take root in the hearts and minds of our people.

“We are barren,” the princess went on. “My prince and I have tried for a long time, but there has been no issue. We have brought in the finest doctors and healers, but—”

Sarah held up a hand. “Wait. You don’t need to tell me. Truly. I understand.” She knew Karen had struggled with infertility leading up to Toby. Chewing on her words for a moment, she ventured, “I have to speak to Jareth. I want to be sure I get the wording right, for one.”

There were other reasons she wanted to talk to him about this, primarily making sure she didn’t step straight into some political mess.

Princess Winola grinned, flat teeth pearly white. “I thank you, Lady Sarah. It would be the culmination of many dreams.”

###

The chambers appointed to Sarah and Jareth were brilliant, quartz walls and floors and ceiling glimmering gently in the torchlight. Carved pillars of the same material climbed the walls and showed images of the trolls in their long-ago glory.

In preparation for their coming here Jareth had given her history books on the region and these people. The trolls had been, before the fae bound magic, sorcerers and magicians of a very specific sort. They worked well with the minerals and goods of the earth, and still had some lingering abilities in their royal bloodline—which was how Ludo had managed to summon the rocks so often during her initial run—but their powers were now greatly diminished compared to what they used to be.

Sarah got to the rooms first, and explored for a while. There was an ache in her chest, a feeling of being without, she now associated with the times they were parted. Even when she was with her friends, she could feel this peculiar emptiness.

When Jareth appeared, treading stealthily on thick carpets, Sarah went straight to him, hands extended for his. “So much has happened,” she breathed as his fingers twined in hers. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, expression more neutral than she liked seeing on him, especially now—after everything they had done and were to one another. But when he spoke his words were laced through with dangerous warning. “Did someone hurt you?”

She smiled, unable to help it. “No. Nothing like that. I’m just—this is strange, still, all of this politicking.”

He surveyed her for a moment and then pulled out of her grip, rubbing his face with his hands and mussing his long hair. A great sigh, and he said, “They want us to use a wish for them, don’t they?”

Sarah nodded, fingers twisting in front of her. “Did they want anything from you? Did they say anything about Ludo?”

“Only that they would not permit him to pass through the mountains,” Jareth said wearily. “But I think I can convince them. We need his powers on the battlefield.”

“What if I wished him to the other side?” Sarah asked. “You said I couldn’t wish the entire army without burning up, but what if it were just him?”

“So we would use two wishes because of this place?” Jareth asked, raising a brow. “I thought we would be more careful than that.”

Sarah bristled. “I don’t want to leave him behind!”

“You won’t,” he soothed, rubbing her arms. “I think there are ways that we can ingratiate our hosts toward simply letting your friend through. He matters to us. If he were inconsequential, any other of my subjects nearly, then I would not hesitate to leave him. But he is your friend, chiefly, and a summoner beside. I think we can make a compelling case.” He began toying with the ends of her hair.

Sarah batted him away, sliding away playfully when he reached for her again. She grinned when he frowned at her. “When are we needed back?”

“The banquet isn’t for several hours,” he said, following her as she moved away. “Why are you running?”

“Don’t think you can catch me?” she asked, challenge in her voice.

His eyes lit with excitement, and her next skipping step backward was met with a lunge. Sarah squeaked and spun away, using her knowledge of the space to bolt for the washroom she had found adjoining their suite of rooms.

Jareth pursued, steps near-silent, only the slight huff of his exhale giving him away.

His fingers closed on her wrist when she was midway through the large space, spinning her back toward him so she collided with his chest. “Got you,” he growled, and bent his head to steal a kiss.

Sarah was panting, but she kissed him back, her pulse echoed in the thin skin of her lips.

Jareth grasped her hips, pulling her flush, and she could feel the rigid length of him as he ground against her belly. “Oh,” she said between heated kisses. “You liked that, did you?”

“Yes,” he admitted with a growl. Not a hint of shame in his tone. She loved that about him. How he simply gave over to these feelings, without even a whisper of guilt.

“Why would I feel guilt over loving you, wanting you?” He had said the other night when she had ventured the subject. “You are my betrothed, my beloved. I adore you. It is only natural, when you are so beautiful and willing, that I would want to bed you often.”

And he had. She had never before felt this desired.

Just the knowledge of what was to come turned her core molten. “Would you want that more often?” she asked, touching his face so that he stopped long enough to respond. “To chase me?”

He nodded, nipping her thumb when she ventured near his mouth. His gaze was dark with promise, but he smiled a little. He would answer her questions first. Another kind of game. “When we return home, I would pursue you through the Labyrinth. If you’d let me.”

She grinned back at him. “You’ve had that fantasy a long while.”

“Oh, yes.”

She tilted her head, imagining how it might be, to be fleeing from Jareth through the twists and turns of that strange place. The way her core throbbed made her question her sanity a little. She licked her lips. “And when you caught me? What would you do?”

His hand traveled down to her ass, stroking her through the layers of fabric, hauling her close and making possessive sounds. “What I’m about to do, soon.”

“Which is?”

In response he walked her backward until her rear hit the edge of a vanity. Grinding against her, Jareth began lifting the fabric keeping her from him. Sarah whimpered a little as his gloved hands found her bare thighs and parted them, sliding her to sit atop the counter.

“Gods, please,” she whispered, prayed aloud.

“You smell ready,” he murmured, sliding her underwear aside to find her soaked, though he did not touch her. He hissed. “You are.”

“Please,” she begged. “I need you.”

“Do you now?” he murmured, and bent, his head near swallowed in the billowing folds of her gown.

But then his mouth was on her, and she let out a moan. He kissed her gently, and then he was tonguing her folds, licking her from opening to clit, where he circled and she--

Sarah had her head back, panting as she attempted not to scream, unsure how private these rooms truly were. “Fuck,” she moaned. “Jareth, please—”

That circling kept up, increased in pressure and tempo, and Sarah cried out, hips bucking even as he gripped them tight, keeping her pleasure just there, just on the edge.

She grasped her own breasts. Jareth pulled her clit into his mouth and sucked.

She came apart.

Sarah was half-aware that she did scream then, Jareth’s name on her lips, and then she was slumped, breathing heavy against the mirror, watching as he rose, pulling off his gloves before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He watched her all the while, and she could see hunger and pride, longing and base need in that gaze.

Sarah beckoned him forward, rose up as he did and undid the complicated set of buttons at his crotch before freeing his straining erection to her eyes and hands. Exploring him made his eyes shudder, her breath hitching as his came in sharp bursts.

Jareth moved her hands away, stepping between her legs and taking himself in hand, lining up with her exposed entrance. “Precious…” the word was a plea.

“Fuck me, Jareth,” she said, breathless. “Just like you want to. Fuck me hard.”

He did just that.

The first thrust she felt like a shot up the spine, all the way to the base of her skull, and then he was thrusting so intensely, so hard and fast that at first all she could do was hold on for dear life.

But as his pace kept up, relentless, her hips began to push back, the heels of her hands against the marble counter as she gripped the edge. She leveraged herself, loving how much more intense it was when they slammed home at once. “Gods,” she whispered. “Like that, yes.”

Jareth shuddered within and around her, his groan a sweet thing that she could not help want to elicit from him again and again.

She bore down around him, and his quick intake of breath made her do it again, flexing as he went momentarily still. “You’ve gotten very good at that,” he breathed, and she grinned at him. “If you keep it up I might—”

“I want you to come,” she moaned, knowing how wanton it made her sound and not caring in the slightest. Not even a fractional amount. She just wanted him. “I want you to lose control.”

His tremble was more pronounced this time, and he slid from her only to pull her off the counter and twist her around so she was staring at the two of them in the ornate mirror.

Sarah flushed crimson to see herself as Jareth placed a hand between her shoulder blades and bent her over, his erection probing against the folds of fabric which had fallen back over her as they moved. Then there was magic in the air and her clothes and his were gone. Dissipated.

She moaned a bit as the cool air hit her dripping privates, and then his cock was pressing against her, and she lost all sense of discomfort. “Yes,” she said. “Please.”

Her eyes slid shut when he pressed back into her, feeling deeper and sharper at this angle, and he said something in a growl that amounted to, “Watch us.”

Eyes open again, Sarah did watch as he pounded into her from behind, angling her hips and legs with nudges of his feet and his grip on her. He hit right in that perfect spot deep within her, and she shook with the need for release.

Then his hand traveled down her front, watching her watch them, moans dripping from her throat, and began to circle her clit with his fingers.

Sarah lost it.

Bucking against his thrusts, she came screaming, rushing wetness drenching them both as Jareth roared his own release.

They stayed still for a time, simply breathing hard and limp with pleasure. Then Sarah started to laugh a little, soft and enough to have Jareth stirring, slipping from her while he kept his hands at her waist and hips, making sure she was steady. “My love?”

Sarah twisted and kissed him thoroughly, so much so that she knew he would rouse again if she kept it up. She pulled back just before venturing near that edge. “I love you,” she breathed, looking into his lust-glazed eyes. “Even though it’s new, Jareth, even though I thought I feared you for so long—I love you so much.”

His expression cleared slightly and he pulled her closer. There was something intense about his gaze now, a glimpse that she caught before he bent and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. “I forbid you to die, Sarah Williams,” he whispered, and there was a peppering of faint magic that she could sense but not understand. “I want you too much to let this go.”

She wrapped her arms around him and they simply stood like that for a time, breathing against one another. Though she wanted to understand more of what he meant, the moment felt fragile, and so Sarah stayed quiet.

For now, she thought.

###

They dressed differently for the banquet, in the colors that Sarah most associated with Jareth’s kingdom—black and glittering blue—like ink and starlit skies. Her bodice was cut so low that she kept wanting to adjust it, but Jareth leaned down, lips against her ear. “You’re perfect, don’t fidget.”

Sarah huffed, but kept her hands away. Catching sight of herself in a mirror near the candle-filled hall, she winked at her reflection. Her hair was up and pinned with diamonds both clear and black. Her dress was a slender, floor length, black satin affair, with a half-cloak of midnight and blue silk. It was simple, and she looked devastatingly beautiful, even she could admit that.

Not that she would have been able to mere months previous.

That life, that Sarah? It seemed to her that she was gone, perhaps forever. This Sarah, Jareth’s consort and soon-to-be Queen and wife, felt powerful, lethal, and sexy. Confident in a way she had only barely touched before.

Jareth kept her hand on his arm, just as he had when he had come to her the night of Karen’s funeral, before their bonding. Only this time she would not be attempting to yank away. He was dressed impeccably in a bejeweled jacket and vest, frothy shirt in deepest midnight at his throat. His hair held blue and black highlights, and his cheeks were powdered with something that made them sparkle like diamonds. He had dusted hers with the same.

There were murmurs and sighs as they appeared and were announced by the herald. The troll aristocracy was a glittering mass, robed in velvets, silks, and damasks. Their long fur was brushed and gleamed silkily in the light of a thousand candles.

Jareth made introductions to some of the males, while Sarah introduced the wives and concubines, and the occasional lone matriarch. All those she had met earlier.

And then it was time to sit at the head table with Princess Winola and King Hektor, who made a toast to their lasting friendship and good health. Glasses and goblets rose, and everyone hailed them and then drank deep.

Sarah did the same and, when the noise of conversation grew again, leaned over to the Princess. “I have an answer for you.”

Winola turned, giving her full attention. “What have you decided, lady Sarah?”

She smiled, and said clearly, “That I wish you all the abundance of fertility that you and your family yearn for, Princess Winola.”

The King whipped his head around, yellow eyes wide, but the Princess did not stand on ceremony. She embraced Sarah fully, enveloping her in the scent of soap and expensive perfume, one massive paw of a hand at the back of her head. “Thank you,” she sobbed. “Oh, thank you, Sarah.”

The King stood, tears falling freely, and held his hand out to Jareth, who took it. They clasped forearms, staring at one another.

Every one of the courtiers were watching them, and amongst them there was a sense of relief. Children would cement the new reign, and bring the kingdom to heel.

And if Sarah were successful at the wellspring, the trolls might gain even more, beside, their old magics coming back to them.

When Winola was done, Sarah whispered low enough for only the two of them to hear, “I’m happy I could help you.”

The princess wiped her eyes on the corner of a large cloth napkin, then glanced at her king. “We should allow it.”

The troll seemed to bristle a little, but he nodded, turning to speak to Jareth. Sarah could not hear exactly what was said, but she thought that, perhaps, they were discussing Ludo.

“You truly are everything that they said, lady Sarah,” the princess murmured. “I am so glad you came to Faerie.”

Sarah smiled and reached for Winola’s hand, which swallowed her much smaller one. “So am I.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

The caverns beneath the mountains of the troll kingdom were vast, a network of spider webbing pathways and chambers where one could easily get lost if they did not know the ways.

King Hektor and Princess Winola appointed a royal cartographer and a team of three assistants to accompany The Goblin King and his army through the mountains. The journey was going to take two and a half weeks, if there were no complications, and they were assured that the ways would be able to accommodate even their mammoths.

Ludo was free to come with them. When Jareth had broached the subject later the night of the welcome banquet, King Hektor had not hesitated. "Of course, he is Lady Sarah's friend. We would not dream of stopping you."

The way through the mountains was said to have many perils, and they were warned that even with an official decree of safe passage, not all creatures bowed to the royal will of the troll kingdom.

Some of these creatures were older than any civilization in Faerie.

It was hoped the size of the party, and The Goblin King, would be enough to dissuade them.

Princess Winola sent Sarah off with a new cloak lined in fur, its outer layers a gold and green shimmering fabric, something cut from some of the remaining magical cloth of the sorcerer-weavers from thousands years prior. Sarah expected something like that to feel fragile, but had been assured the cloth was rugged, waterproof, and would keep her warm in the chilly caverns.

Before they departed fully, Sarah spent some time in the top tower of the palace, where there was a balcony carved into the side of the mountain, one of the only places to find sunlight. She had stood within its rays for a long while, simply allowing herself to soak it in. She would not be seeing it again for a long time.

When she made her way back down to the depths of the castle and out into the courtyard that emptied into the cave system, Sarah let out a bark of pure laughter when she saw the beasts that Jareth held by their bridles. "You're kidding."

He gave her one of those extra-serious looks, then smiled that smile that was just for her. "Friends of our hosts. We thought you might enjoy a little change."

Approaching the pure white beast, Sarah hesitated for a moment as it lowered its head, pawing at the ground. "Are they friendly?" she asked.

"So long as you're a true citizen of the Underground, yes," Jareth said, that seriousness back again. He was glancing between the creature—a brilliant, glowing white unicorn, with a horn both slender and wickedly sharp-looking—and Sarah, looking ready to spring between them if there was any trouble.

Sarah approached cautiously, and was rewarded with a gentle nuzzle of velveteen lips against her outstretched hand. "Do they have names?"

"That one is Sky, I have Wind." He stroked the neck of his own unicorn, who was slightly larger than hers and slit his eyes blissfully at Jareth's touch. "They're incredibly fast, perhaps the fastest creatures we have in Faerie, and they have graciously volunteered to convey the two of us through the mountains."

"Thank you," Sarah whispered to her mount, Sky's amber eyes keen on hers. "I truly appreciate it."

Sky stepped forward, bumping her chest against Sarah's and curling her neck over her shoulder. There was a sense, not words but a sort of whole-body feeling, of gratitude, and relief.

They were lucky in that the negotiations between Jareth and the troll kingdom had been going on for a long while, and the path they were to travel with their army was well mapped and marked, and large enough to accommodate them all. The mammoths would be without their howdah's, however, as the additional height bumped too often against the natural stone ceiling.

Additionally, the giants were taking the long way around the mountain range, as their longer steps would mean that they would likely meet up with the army as it exited the other side. They seemed happy to do it, the nearly two dozen of them practically vibrating with the desire to stretch their legs properly.

And so, with waves and tearful good-bye's—mostly on the side of Winola and her King, who were still effusive in their gratitude—the war band moved deep into the heart of the jagged mountain range.

Sarah had been to cave explorations with her school during field trips, but nothing that compared to this. Stalactites of pure crystal hung from the ceiling, occasionally dripping frigid water upon their heads and exposed skin. The walls had been carved, some with depictions of trolls or their animals, but most left smooth to the touch. The ground was similarly flattened out, allowing their company to move with ease.

The air was just this side of chilly, Sarah finding that her new cloak offered her more than enough comfort.

She and Jareth rode a little behind the head of the train. By their estimations, the narrowing and stretching of the army meant there would be an entire day of travel from head to tail.

Inside, the noise of all those goblins and creatures with their armor and weapons—though most had both stored in wagons, not carried outright—echoed off the walls and ceiling. Even the unicorns, who stepped lighter than any horse Sarah had ever known, could be heard, though they were not the only creature amongst the party with hooves.

By the time they stopped at what Jareth assured them was the proper time to make camp, Sarah was nursing a splitting headache.

Instead of dining with the generals like she would have on the first day of any new movement, she made her excuses and ducked into her and Jareth's tent the moment it was raised by his magic.

She did no more than shuck her boots before she hit the bed, swallowed up in sleep a moment later.

When she woke, there was still a echoing quality to the noise, but it was vastly reduced. Heavy breathing and snoring filled the camp, and the crackle of small fires and torches. She was warm, overly so, and found that not only was she still wrapped in her cloak, but Jareth had curled against her back.

Sliding from the bed, Sarah could sense his wakeful attention on her the instant she started moving. She slung off the cloak and shed the rest of her clothes, skin prickling with gooseflesh in the dim light, though she reveled in the kiss of the cool air on her flesh.

Jareth made a slight sound behind her, an inhalation of breath. "Beautiful woman. Come back here."

She cast him a look, then walked, instead, to their bathing area, finding a tub filled with steaming water awaiting her. Adding oils, she sank into the heat just as shivers started to take over.

Washing away the events of the day and the last vestiges of her headache, Sarah took her time, her way lit by an orange-flamed lantern, casting molten reflections upon the ripples of her dark bathwater.

Jareth came into the partitioned-off area just as she stepped from the tub, wearing a sleeveless tunic and soft linen lounge pants. He waved a hand and whisked away all the water with a speckling of magic, leaving her clean and dry. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked as he helped her into a floor-length, fleece-lined robe.

In answer she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his middle. "Only just. The noise got to me after a while."

"Ah," he said, petting her hair with one hand while he held her about the waist with the other. "I can help with that. Talk to me, next time. I am not a healer fae, but I know enough. I know how to temporarily dampen sound for you."

She let out a breath of relief. "That would be lovely."

Jareth bent and lifted her into his arms. She let out a surprised squawk and he laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I've got you."

He carried her back to the bed, laying her down before bending to press a kiss against her forehead. She closed her eyes, humming in appreciation. "I want to thank you, but you keep scolding me when I do."

"You should never get in the habit of thanking a fae, or any creature once magic is restored. You should not have thanked the unicorn today." He stretched out beside her, one hand splayed across her stomach while he lay propped on his elbow, gaze intent on her. "But why would you want to express gratitude now?"

"Because," she said with a yawn, sleep starting to pull at her again as she sank into the comfort of their plush mattress. "You care for me in a way no one ever has. Not my mom or dad, not one of my so-called friends, would have noticed my headache without being told about it before now. It's a small thing, but it means a lot."

He kissed her on the top of her head, holding her close, and speaking muffled against her. "It means much that it is acknowledged."

Smiling, Sarah slipped into sleep.

###

Days were difficult to get her brain to recognize, their surroundings never-changing. No winds, breezes, sounds of living things, the rise of the sun and moon, the sparkle of the stars. No, it was just the steady drip from the ceiling and the slightly chilly temperature and the same darkness only held at bay by their torches and orbs of magical light that Jareth summoned and then swept back throgh the length of the army.

But on day eight, they finally came across something to break the time apart, as their wide cavern tunnel opened into the grandness of an enormous underground lake. Something that looked near the size of an ocean, filled with a black water that lapped at the shore with bioluminescent wave breaks. The ceiling, at first, looked to be a sea of stars, but on closer inspection they were millions of glow worms.

There was a shoreline at least one hundred yards in width, but before the war band could move in fully, the Troll Kingdom's royal cartographer ran up, waving his arms and calling, "Halt! Stop!"

Sarah's unicorn snorted in an indignant sort of manner, dancing sideways. She reached out and placed a hand on the side of Sky's neck, murmuring gently to her.

The cartographer was a gasping mess by the time he skidded to a halt between Jareth and Sarah's mounts. "Your majesties," he said, barely making the words before doubling over to gather further breath. He held up a hand, signaling he needed a moment.

Sarah's gaze could not help but turn back to the lake shore, and all that black water. She wanted to touch it. The bioluminescence was in shades of blue and green, and sometimes a faint glimmering of gold.

"I'm sorry, your majesties," the troll said again as he straightened, taking great gulps of air. "But this is wrong. This lake should be several hundred miles to the south of us."

Sarah blinked, attention returning to the troll male. "We're that lost?"

"No!" the cartographer pulled one of the rolled maps from the sack slung across his back. "We're exactly where we should be, but that—" he pointed an accusing finger toward the lake. "Has moved."

Now it was time for Jareth's unicorn to dance sideways, tossing his head. Jareth's attention snapped to the creature and then back to the troll, and then the lake. Sarah knew that look on his face. He was worried about something. "How long to go around?"

"I don't know, your majesty," he said. "If this were where it should be, I'd say it takes about five days to get around, but these tunnels should not be leading here. I do not know which ones would take us around the lake now."

"And we can't go through?" Sarah asked.

The troll visibly shivered. "All who try, fail. The last time a party made its way across the shore, they had all of magic at their disposal. No offense, majesties, but we only have him," he pointed to The Goblin King. "And your wishes, my lady."

"What's in there?" she whispered, unable to help the question.

The male shook his head. "Darkness, and the creatures that love it."

She could not keep her eyes from it.

Jareth announced, "We'll camp outside the perimeter for tonight. I would confer with you and the generals. We'll decide on the best course of action."

"As you say, Goblin King," the cartographer said, bowing low and retreating.

Jareth's hand was on her wrist a moment later, and she startled from staring into those shadowed depths, catching his mismatched gaze. His tone was somber. "I know it's our night to dine alone, precious, but—"

She shook her head, interrupting him. "It's fine. This is excusable."

"Tomorrow?"

Smiling, she kept stroking Sky's neck. "Tomorrow," she affirmed.

###

The entrance to their tent looked out over the camp and toward the massive entrance to the black lake. Sarah stood with her arms folded, staring at the breaking water, and wondering what it was that was so frightening about it. It looked beautiful.

Jareth approached looking worn and weary, his stride slow but his gaze rising to find her watching him. A smile bloomed on his face, and she felt her stomach clench. There was something about that expression that heated her blood and made her all-too-aware of herself and his proximity.

Once to her side, Jareth slid an arm around her waist and tugged her to him. "You're far too enchanted with that lake, my love."

She tilted her head but relaxed her arms, letting her hands pet down his jacket, feeling the heat of him through the leather. "What do we know about it?" she asked, her eyes flicking back to the shoreline and then to him. "Or what do you sense?"

His smile tightened a little, as did his grip, and he pulled her within, closing the flap over their entrance so she could no longer see the water.

She could hear it, though. That much volume of liquid rhythmically hitting the beach made a sort of soft ocean sound that echoed around them. Sarah found herself swaying somewhat to the beat of it.

Jareth clasped her, ceasing her movements. "Stop that," he chided. "You are enamored of it, damn it all." He looked at her with his serious face, and she giggled. "Hold still," he said.

In response she pulled away, twirling and falling into one of the poufs in their lounge area.

He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her. "You realize you're under some sort of spell work, don't you?"

She shucked her gifted cloak, then started untying the laces that kept her shirt closed. She loved how his eyes tracked the movement of her fingers. "If I am," she hedged. "It feels good. I like it."

"That's sort of the point, my love. Feeling good doesn't necessarily mean something is good for you."

She pouted, stopping her movements. "Is it really that bad?"

"I suspect that lake wants you in it, for reasons I doubt are kindly, and you are doing everything you can to distract me from taking away that spell work, because once I'm asleep you plan to sneak off and see what it is, up close. Only you won't be able to stop yourself from touching the water."

Sarah's lips parted, for she had been envisioning precisely that.

Jareth snapped his fingers and her ears popped slightly with the pressure change. "There," he said. "Now you can't get out, even when I'm asleep. It will remain up until I remove it."

Her eyebrows rose. "Really, Jareth?"

"I have to protect you so, yes, really." His hands were on his hips. "Without you, this entire campaign is moot, and we've come too far. We're nearly there. Once we're through these mountains, we just have to cross The Great Plain of Faerie, and then we'll be to the wellspring. We have less than a month left, and I do not intend to lose you."

Sarah huffed and she continued to pout as Jareth stalked toward her. "This isn't fair."

"Say that again, I dare you," he challenged, eyes seeming to crackle with energy as they alighted on her. "I have always wanted to swat that lovely backside anytime I hear those words fall from your lips."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Come here," he growled, reaching for her.

Sarah pulled in a breath, a part of her wanting to run, but she sat frozen until he hauled her to a standing, her shirt falling open to expose her breasts and stomach. He began to yank the rest of the fabric out of the band of her pants before he stopped, his attention snapping back to her face. "Let me remove the spell work."

"No," she said, stubbornness coursing through her. "I like it."

Jareth bared his teeth. "What do you think you will find in that water?"

The word popped out of her mouth before she could think. "Answers."

He made a disbelieving sound, and ran fingers along her temples. "I want you to heed me; this is not good for you. I do not know what that lake is, exactly, but it is ancient, and evil."

Sarah challenged, "Why don't you just remove the spell work without my permission?"

"Because that's not something I ever wish to do to you," he said gently. "To tell you that this will be the way something is, to perform great magic upon you without leave? It is not want I want from a partner. I want you willing, Sarah, always."

His hands continued to stroke along her face and hair, and after a while of glaring up at him, Sarah sighed. "Remove it. Because you're right, of course you are. Stubborn, and old-as-dirt, you've probably forgotten more than I know."

Jareth barked a laugh, and then the pressure on her temples subtly increased, and she felt—something incredible.

It was as though she were soaking in the primal essence of who he was. Warmth filled her, and Sarah rocked forward, her lips falling open as a moan escaped. He felt wondrous, and she was giddy with it.

And then he withdrew, a subtle, lingering touch like a kiss deep within her, and then? All was Jareth.

He knew her well by now, and saw the shift, read it clear upon her face, no doubt, and flashed her a knowing smile.

"Take me to bed," she commanded, and he eagerly obliged.

###

The lake came to her in her dreams.

Or so she thought, at first.

Sarah found herself in it the moment she closed her eyes, her body rocking with the strange currents. Any large body of water could sustain them, but these moved in a way she had never experienced before. Almost as though thin fingers were wrapping around her limbs and torso, attempting to drag her several different ways at once.

The water was black, but she could see herself reflected in it, and the lapping waves sometimes glowed with that strange bioluminescence, highlighting a small school of fish.

Where there's small fish, there's things to eat them, she thought.

No sooner had she thought that then she felt something brush against her, and the touch was so prolonged that she could tell the body of the creature was massive. Ten, fifteen feet, at least.

She gulped, and looked around, but there was nothing but water so far as the eye could see, and the strings of the glow worms high above.

And whatever the things in the water were.

Something hard bumped against her shoulder blades and Sarah shrieked, whirling toward it and see what it was in a flash. Jareth was upon a wooden raft, holding his hand out to her, balancing his feet wide and bracing against the skinny mast so they would not tip over.

Sarah gripped his hand immediately, and he pulled her from the water, just as something brushed her again, and she saw a long fin break the surface. She stumbled into Jareth's arms and stood at the center of the raft, glancing around and shivering a little in the caverns still, chill air against her wet body. She wasn't wearing any clothes.

The sudden shock of the physical sensations jolted Sarah out of the thought that this was a dream. "How'd we get here?" she asked, her teeth chattering as they clung to each other. Jareth also wore nothing, but he was warmer than her, and he had not been in the water.

"I don't know," he answered, his body tense, and his voice threaded with promise of violence. "I do not care for these tricks."

The water around them rippled, glimmering in shades of green, blue, and trails of vibrant gold. She could see more fins break the water, and she clutched tighter, both the rough wooden mast and Jareth.

"Let me see to that," he said, his voice gentler but still threaded with wariness. His fingers brushed her shoulder and she smelled and felt his magic a moment later, drying and warming her. When she looked down she could see tight-fitted clothes perfect for swimming encasing her all the way to the wrist and ankle. "Better," he said, turning his attention back to the cavern, the lake, and the creatures slowly circling their barely-there craft. "We might need a larger boat."

"I could wish for one," she said. "Or wish us out of here entirely."

The water did that peculiar rippling again, as though rain in reverse, and one of the creatures bumped the raft, causing it to turn slowly.

Sarah cursed and curled her body tighter around the spindly mast and Jareth's offered arm. The sense of stability she got from him was greater than any small piece of wood.

The creatures were jostling the raft, propelling it gradually through the water. Sarah's pulse was hammering in her throat and ears, watching those massive shapes move through the water around them.

Then she glanced at Jareth, and realized he was not looking at any of that.

He was staring ahead, at the ceiling.

Sarah's stomach dropped when she followed his gaze, something enormous and with a dozen glowing eyes drifted tentacles like anemonea toward the surface of the water.

Right where the creatures were pushing them.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen

"What does it want?" Sarah asked, her voice thready with fear. "What is it?"

"Something ancient," Jareth said. "I have a thought, but I don't know. No one living has seen one."

"Should I—"

"Not yet, precious, but be ready. I fear if we magic ourselves away, it will just find a way to drag us back here."

They were drifting much closer, the draped tentacles like thick forest vines of opalescent, bioluminescent greens and blues. They trailed in the water, and one picked up a fish the length of her arm, curling the squirming thing into the open jaws of the creature. It's mouth was a dark tunnel of razor teeth. The moment the jaws closed the mouth fully disappeared, and it was once more a glowing, luminous thing.

Sarah did not want it touching her, but she also could not tear her gaze away.

Violet irises and purple pupils like an octopus seemed to focus on her.

The next thing she knew, she had let go of the mast and was moving toward the edge of the raft.

Jareth snatched her back, hissing, "Gods damn this foul place."

"It wants us," she intoned.

"I can see that," he snapped. "What else can you tell?"

She tilted her head toward it. "It's been ages since anything as magical as us passed its way."

"That's because the trolls forbid this realm to any but their own, and they know better than to traverse this lake shore," Jareth mused. He angled her behind him while keeping an arm around her. "Parlay!" he cried toward the creature. "Tell me what you want. I am The Goblin King, and I can offer much."

The water rippled, and the creatures steering and propelling the raft fled, diving deep into the waters.

The voice came from all around them, but they knew it was the creature in the ceiling. It sounded as though the words came from the water, slippery and liquid, wrapped with chilled air, causing Sarah to shiver.

It has been a long time, and I am hungry. There was a slight pause. Fine meal you would make, what else can you offer?

Jareth's grip on Sarah tightened. He whispered to her, "I think I know what it is. We have to be careful." Louder, he said, "I come with an army, and we march to free magic. With it restored, you could feast again. Would not the beasts of your waters benefit from the release of the bonds the fae put on the wellspring?"

Your politics matter not at all. I was here when the first fae came into existence. I was here before then, when magic and might ruled in chaos, and even before, when all was darkness. I have dwelt long, hungered longer.

The water rippled again, and Sarah felt that tug, the pull to touch the black waves. She started to move but Jareth kept a hard grip on her.

While the creatures below may be a bit tastier after your little war, it conceded. You and your lady would sustain me for years. You are a banquet. They would be but a bite. With such crumbs all I am being given, I think I will take her first.

Sarah heard something strange then, like a music but deeper. A primordial calling.

"Stop!" Jareth commanded, and she could sense, somewhat distantly, that she was fighting his hold. "Parlay, damn you! Did you think that was all I would give?"

She could sense the panic in his voice, and that seemed to break through the odd melody. Sarah stopped fighting, now fully wrapped in Jareth's arms, his body pinning hers against the mast. Water pooled around their feet, their tussle disturbing the raft somewhat alarmingly.

What will you give me? The creature asked, its tone greedy. Anticipatory. To save your life, and the life of your lover?

Jareth breathed hard, and Sarah remembered him telling her how much stronger she was getting. That she had been able to wind him so brought a slight stab of pride, despite the circumstances.

She was doing everything she could not to look at the thing, for she had the feeling it was toying with her. Wanting her and whatever magic the wishes within her would contain. But despite its roaring hunger, something she could feel in the pit of her own stomach, Sarah knew this creature was ancient. Ancient things would know patience the like of which she could never understand.

"If it is magic you crave, I can give you some," Jareth said. "My blood. I would give you a taste."

The water itself shivered at that, and the reflection of the thing in the water that Sarah could see eagerly stretched toward them.

Now? It asked.

"No," Sarah said, speaking at last. Her voice sounded somewhat hoarse. "I doubt you would stop, once you started to drink." She lifted her chin, despite still being trapped in Jareth's hold, finally looking back up at the thing. "I will give you a wish."

Droplets began to rise from the water around them, like some kind of reverse rain.

"Don't," Jareth rasped in her ear. "Whatever it wants, it cannot have."

But Sarah had made her first wish, months back. The wish to know more. And with that came a vivid image of that creature taking from Jareth all the lifeblood that pumped within him. She could see herself screaming as it took him, the thing laughing, and then—no. No, she would not—could not—lose Jareth. Or put him in that much danger. Never willingly.

"It can't have you," she whispered back to him. Then, louder, "What do you want?"

There was a slight pause, and droplets of water floating in the air stilled, rotating slightly where they were. Whatever this thing was, it was powerful.

Then it said, the words coming from the strange tunnel of a mouth, garbled and nightmarish, "Freedom."

"We cannot," Jareth hissed.

I have lived in this lake beneath the mountain for eons, trapped here. But I cannot abide in the light of day, it said in that all-over voice. I would only hunt at night.

"If I give you this, you will away at once. Leave us and our army unmolested from here until the end of our campaign, and I will give you what you ask." Sarah spoke while knowledge seemed to swim in her mind's eye, like a hundred videos on a hundred different screens, all showing her the possibilities of what they faced.

The thing spoke out of its physical form again. Thick and mangled, making her shudder with the sound. "Agreed."

Jareth still held her, but his grip had loosened somewhat. "Be very careful," he pleaded.

She remembered all the times her words had meant so much in this place, and she had the feeling here, now, this was one of the final tests.

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself, narrowing her focus. "I wish—" she started, hesitating for a moment more before pushing forward. "That the creature above us were free to move as it willed during the night hours."

The droplets fell, all at once, water spraying from all directions as it all hit the surface of the lake. The creature above them stretched, and started to detach from the ceiling.

A bargain well-struck, it said.

###

One moment, Sarah was on the lake, on the sinking raft with Jareth, the creature speaking above them.

The next breath she pulled in, she was surrounded with the familiar fabric walls of the pavilion Jareth raised for them each night.

"What—" she started.

Jareth pulled away from her so suddenly that she staggered, caught off-balance.

"What the hell?" she swore, catching herself on the table and spinning to face him. "What's your problem?"

Jareth had his hands curled into fists in his hair, his back to her, but at her words he turned around. His eyes were red-rimmed. "My problem?" he asked, his tone incredulous, his volume high. It was then that Sarah noted they were still in the midst of a silent camp. It was still what passed for night, here in the caves beneath the mountain. "You just released a death spirit upon Faerie!"

Sarah's jaw dropped. "A death spirit?" she repeated, unsure she had heard correctly. "Is that what that thing was?"

"I thought—I was not sure—it's a devourer. A creature of endless hunger. I don't know if we can ever kill it, Sarah, I think those things are deathless. We had several roaming Faerie in times of old." He collapsed into a camp chair, laughing, his gaze straight ahead, unseeing. He continued on as though they were sharing one of their nights of storytelling. "Before magic was bound, the many magical beings would come together to curse a devourer. It was the one time we worked in concert, because they were just that dangerous. They will eat entire families and villages. Sorcerers, magicians, fae, elves… all of them would curse the creatures to be imprisoned in bottles, beneath the sea, or in—" he laughed again, and it had an edge of madness to it. "In other great bodies of water."

Sarah's stomach bottomed out, and she fell back against the table's edge, gripping it hard enough that her knuckles turned white.

"I wasn't sure at first," he whispered. "I've only ever seen them described in books. There is no art of them, for they change shape. But it could be nothing else."

There was silence for a long stretch, the only sound that of far-off watchers calling the rounds to each other.

"At least you made sure we were safe during the war," Jareth said, standing and making his way to the entrance, pulling aside the flap to peer outside. He nodded once and let it fall back into place before turning to face her once more. "And you made the lake go away. I'm sure the cartographer will be pleased."

Sarah thought she was going to be sick. "What do we do?"

"Right now?" Jareth moved toward her, his energy shifting, going from something crazed and nearly panicked to an intensity she and her body immediately recognized. "We're going to wash off that cursed lake, and then I'm going to remind myself that you're still with me."

He reached for her, his fingertips brushing the line of her jaw. She leaned into the motion.

"You didn't know," he said, the tone just as intense as his movements when he closed the distance between them. "Even if you had come across talk of them in those texts you read, they would have been described more as boogeymen. Fairy tales." The last was said on a laugh.

Sarah reached up and gripped his wrist, eyes wide as he loomed over her, his front pressed to hers. "Something happened while we were on the water, with that thing," she said, and described the Knowing that had come to her. Both in what it would have done to Jareth if he had offered up a vein, and all those images, dozens—hundreds—of possibilities, swimming in her mind. "It was like that first wish was working overtime," she said. "I've felt similar things, but nothing that intense."

Jareth tugged her toward their bathing area, and while he undressed her leisurely, peeling the skin-tight cloth from her flesh, they said nothing more. Her chest ached, the adrenaline which had flooded her system during the confrontation on the lake leaving her by degrees, causing her to shiver.

His long, warm hands slid along her legs as he finished undressing her, and when he picked her up bridal-style she barely made a noise, body still beset, her limbs trembling.

"Sh, love," he murmured, face pressed briefly against her neck, clutching her close. "You're okay. We're alright."

Her teeth chattered when she attempted to speak, and next she knew, Jareth was lowering her into water just shy of scalding. The shock of it made her gasp, the air perfumed with herbs and oils. She gripped the rim of the tub as he stepped in opposite her, his lean, nude body magnificent to behold, even with her rising panic.

He leaned forward, hands sliding up her shins before cupping her calves, thumbs playing at the crease of her knees. "Breathe, Sarah."

She did as he bid, the breaths shallow and soft at first but, as the steam worked its way into her lungs and as his touches continued along her legs, massaging and comforting, the breathing deepened, and her shivering lessened.

Jareth tended to her, bathing her gently, the lather smelling of basil and jasmine. She hummed as he caressed her arms, leading to her hands and fingers. She wanted to fall asleep again, but knowing she was partially submerged kept her just this side of awake.

"Turn around," he instructed, and she did. He worked on her hair, running fingertips along her scalp.

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily, eyes closed as he continued his work.

"Nearly dawn," he replied. "The sentinels will be calling the hour shortly."

She sighed. "How much longer was it, without the lake in the way?"

"Three more days, love," he said. "We're nearly there."

"I miss the sunlight."

"It misses you more, I think," he murmured, finishing with rinsing her hair. He set the cup he was using on a small shelf beside the tub, then plunged his hands beneath the water, gripping her breasts and pulling her against him.

Sarah made a small sound of surprise, and then a low moan as he played with her nipples, fondling them as he kissed the side of her neck.

His breath puffed against her dampened skin. "I need you."

Jareth pulled her from the water when she moaned an affirmation, taking her straight to the wide bed. A decadent pile of cushion where he ravaged her body.

Sarah lost herself utterly to the rhythm of their movements, in the slapping of flesh upon flesh.

Jareth gathered her close afterward, giving a low growl as he nuzzled her hair.

She wanted so much to believe that it was all done out of love.

But she had the feeling that there was nothing but fierce desperation here. And, yet, she could not help but feel she needed the same.

Sometimes, whatever gets you through it… she thought, echoing the words of a long-ago therapist. Bless the woman.

Sarah fell deep into sleep with Jareth curled around her, his body posture protective and possessive all at once.

There were, at least that time, blessedly no dreams.

###

When daylight first came into view, the army cheered and celebrated, but Sarah and Jareth remained somber.

They had spent their last three days absorbed in activities—Jareth, the minutia of running the army and the long chain of telephone that was made worse by most of the runners being goblins of some form or another. There were issues with distribution of supplies and duties, specifically meals and the need to dispose of the subsequent waste such things created. It was a logistical nightmare that made The Goblin King complain of intense headaches.

Sarah dived into books, reading everything she could get her hands on about devourers.

It made her sick.

She kept to herself, eschewing the company of her friends and even relegating Neira to nothing more than a guard.

At night, when the camp grew quiet, Sarah and Jareth's lovemaking had turned somewhat fierce, and she knew that he was losing himself in her just as much as she was in him. That they were finding not release, exactly, but oblivion. She had the marks of his teeth on her skin, and though her nail gouges faded by morning due to his fae healing, they could be traced most of the night through. She found it comforting, when the nightmares woke her.

Which they did, often.

All those other scenarios played out, one at a time, and she was utterly helpless. The devourer had every intention of killing Jareth, of that she was now convinced. If she had not spoken when she had, as she did, then it would have gleefully torn them both apart.

Because in every scenario, she had not survived his death. Some dreams showed a montage of her wishing herself to safety after the event, and then attempting to continue Jareth's quest. She always failed. One way or the other.

And so, Sarah had come to realize a fundamental truth.

I cannot lose him.

The sunlight was pale and distant, but quickly grew to fill the great tunnel, taking up all the visible space before them before they were, blessedly and at last, free to the air and the open sky.

Sarah look a deep inhale, tilting up her head at first, then leaning down to run a hand down Sky's slender neck, the unicorn's hair as soft as silk.

And so the arrow took Sarah through the forearm, instead of tearing through her middle.

But one hit Jareth in the shoulder. He hissed, flinching as he touched the wound and then flinging his good hand upward, droplets of blood arcing overhead. Several more arrows rained down, but they hit an invisible barrier and stuck.

"Archers!" Jareth cried.

There was a soft hiss as dozens of bows were pulled taut, and Sarah gritted her teeth through the pain in her arm. She forced herself not to look at it, and to ignore the feeling of wrongness. There was something in her that was not supposed to be.

She pushed the thought aside.

Her lover looked thunderous, angrier than she had ever seen, as the archers took their aim and fired at the assassins waiting in ambush.

Several fell, one sliding in seeming slow-motion down the side of the mountain to the side of the tunnel exit. Others fired back, but Jareth's barrier was still in effect. While friendly fire slid through, enemies were stopped dead, the arrows quivering where they struck and then slowly sliding down the dome of the shield.

Others of the ambush party attempted to flee, but Jareth's generals were already in a flurry of motion, directing contingents of soldiers to spread out and surround The Goblin King and Sarah, while others flowed into the foliage on either side of the opening and ran to catch those fleeing few.

Sarah's heart was pounding, her chest heaving with her quick and heavy breaths.

Jareth grunted with pain, and she turned to see him snapping off the arrowhead at his back, holding the bloody stump of it in his hand, his face draining of color.

Sarah slid off Sky, hurrying to his side despite her own useless arm that she cradled to her chest. The bleeding was slow, considering the arrow was still in her, the angle such that she could keep the sharp crystal edge of the tip away from her.

"Jareth!" she called as she came to his side. "What is it?"

The Goblin King clambered off Wind, his motions clumsy. She thought, at first, due to the wound itself, but then he coughed and there were flecks of pink foam on his lips.

Sarah swore, coming forward to support him with her good arm. "Did it get your lung?"

Jareth tore his shirt and vest, exposing the wound to the air. Black was ringing where the shaft of the arrow remained, and black veins spider-webbed out from it, crisscrossing his pale flesh. "The arrowhead—" he said, words slurring.

His knees went out, and Sarah cursed once again as she was suddenly holding most of his weight. "Help!" she called, and several of the nearby soldiers rushed in to support him, easing Jareth onto the ground. "We need a healer," she said, looking around at the goblins. "A doctor!"

"There's one coming," said a general she recognized. "Make space, you lot."

The soldiers that had gathered shuffled away, and Sarah knelt by Jareth's side, plucking the bloody, tacky arrow piece out of Jareth's grip.

It was crystal, glimmering brilliantly where it showed beneath flecks and rivulets of blood.

She frowned, looking between it and him. Jareth's eyes were closed, and he was trembling.

At first, Sarah could not think, could not feel, could only know a certain truth.

He would die without her help.

She reached out and pulled the rest of the arrow out of his shoulder, his cry of pain spurring her words to flow faster. "I wish The Goblin King were healed!"

The trembling, which had begun to morph into convulsions, ceased. Stopped so sudden that Sarah gasped, reaching for him with her good arm.

Jareth's eyes flung open, focusing on her in an instant, and then glancing toward where the wound on his shoulder had been.

There was nothing beyond the torn clothes but faint white scars in the same place the spider-webbing black veins had been. The wound was smooth flesh. Only the splashes of blood remained.

Jareth pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth free of the pinkish foam that had gotten on his lips and chin. "Good gods," he said at last, sitting up and reaching for her. "Your arm."

She pulled back. "Don't you dare touch me with your reaction to this stuff."

He frowned at her and rose, casting his gaze about. "Ah, good." He stepped to the side, just as a healer came into view, black robes swirling around her long legs. She reminded Sarah of a gazelle, all grace and leanness. She was taller than Jareth, with a wild thatch of dark hair, and large round glasses that made her pale eyes enormous. "Majesties," she murmured. "Good that she used a wish on you, sire. Even if I had been here immediately, you know there is no cure."

Sarah's heart skipped a beat, and she was more grateful than ever for her first wish.

The healer tipped a concoction toward Sarah's mouth, murmuring, "For the pain."

She grabbed the cup with her good hand, though it trembled, and drank down the bittersweet potion. The relief was near-immediate, coming in a rushing wave of euphoria, calm, and the utter removal of the throbbing ache that had begun in her forearm to the time of her heartbeat.

Sarah met Jareth's eyes as the healer surgeon got to work, keeping her gaze fixed as she vaguely felt the arrow removed and carefully set aside, then the rest dealt with. Within minutes, she was bandaged and admonished to take it easy, and to get plenty of rest and fluids.

Jareth took her hand as soon as she was free. "We're going to set up camp just about a quarter mile from here," he said gently, running fingers no longer stained with blood along her cheek and jaw. "And it appears the last of the assassins was caught. We'll be questioning him this evening."

Sarah wondered, vaguely, if questioning were code for torturing.

She found that she did not care.

###

Later that evening, Sarah stood just outside their tent and stared straight up at the sky, burnished near the edge of the horizon but bleeding indigo across the great dome above her, stars starting to blink into view. The people who were to go to work on the would-be assassins had gone back to the caves, somewhere far out of earshot. For that, Sarah was grateful.

The potion for the pain was still at work within her, causing her to sway slightly and smile sloppily up at the ever-changing view.

Gods! How amazing it felt to be free of that stifling air, that ever-constant temperature. She had missed the sensation of a living breeze against her flesh, and with a large exhale spread her arms up, stretching toward the heavens.

"You are so beautiful," Jareth said from behind her, where she knew he watched from the entrance of their little home away from home. "Come to bed. I want to thank you properly for the wish that saved my life."

Sarah dropped her arms and turned to him, smile still wide. "You're not mad that I used another wish?"

"For this? Absolutely not. Those crystal arrowheads were meant to kill me outright. We're not supposed to—it does not matter. In regards to your wishes, it would have been nice if they had come further apart, for they are our best arsenal, our most cunning advantage." He beckoned her closer. "Come inside."

Sarah spared another moment for the view. The camp spread below them, Jareth having placed their pavilion on a slight rise, but beyond that there was the impassable wall of craggy mountains from which they had emerged, and beyond that? Nothing but rolling hills of desert, as far as her eye could see, each fading into darkness as the sun fully set.

Then she went inside, taking Jareth's hand. Though her thoughts were somewhat muddled, she could not help but lean into him and say, "I love you."

He ran a hand through her hair and pulled her close, brushing lips against hers. "And I love you," he murmured. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen

Despite it being a desert, a place inhospitable to most life, Sarah found it invigorating after the doldrums of the caverns beneath the mountain.

Slowly, she was coming back to herself after their encounter with the devourer.

In contrast, Jareth had pulled away considerably. It irked her enough that she had slept on the divan the night before, and hastened from their tent before dawn's first light to start her run with Neira.

Sarah's friends were back, silently accepting that she had needed her time away, giving her endless grace. Hoggle still mumbled under his breath sometimes, but she just smiled when he did, and he would flush and scratch the back of his head, muttering even lower.

The desert was unkind to those who would try movement in the daylight, all except for those first rays. And so, when the army set up camp at the end of a night's march, when the sky was just beginning to lighten, Sarah would slip away to run.

They were in their first week of traversing the wastes, with at least one more to go until they were near the wellspring.

Sarah had not made another wish, though her heart longed to, so she kept the words clear from her mind. Made them into a nebulous daydream, instead.

She and Neira chatted a little as they ran, talking of little things at first before diving into the longer conversation they had been having some time, now. Sarah had been finding out more about the young human's strange but fantastic life in the Underground, and why she had joined with Jareth's royal guard.

The sentries around the campsite saluted casually or gave a nod as Sarah ran by, but when she neared the Eastern edge, one stepped into her path so she was forced to stop abruptly or crash into him, halting words and laughter.

Her, she corrected internally, realizing that the tall, slim figure was familiar.

Jahari removed her helmet, her features and hair painfully like Jareth's, and gave a cutting smile.

Dancing back a few steps, Sarah held out her arm to hold Ludo back, his rumbling growl stirring the pebbles at their feet.

Neira, however, would not be subdued. She darted past Sarah and closed in on the fae female, just as Sarah brushed fingers across her pendant and pushed a warning through it. She hoped that, somehow, Jareth would understand.

Your sister is here!

A sister who deftly maneuvered out of the way of Neira's initial sword strike, making the human guard look clumsy, though Sarah knew she was anything but. The fae smirked, twisting her hand to reveal a slender silver dagger. "This won't do," she said—

And sunk the metal blade through the back of Neira's neck, plunging down and twisting, giving a sickening crack.

Neira hit the ground in a boneless heap.

Sarah screamed, "No!"

When she attempted to go to her friend and guard, she found herself being held back by Ludo's enormous paw, his growls deeper now.

"I have no quarrel with you, stone slinger," Jahari crooned, yanking loose her dagger from Neira's body, causing it to jerk once before laying utterly, completely still. Sarah could not take her eyes from it.

Too late, it was already too late. The strike had killed Neira instantly, and Jareth had said to try to bring someone back was—wrong. That they would come back not as themselves.

She let out a soft sob, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

The other sentries along the perimeter were utterly still, as though frozen in time. Some of them were in the midst of turning their heads toward the commotion, though Sarah did not know when they had stopped moving.

Sarah wanted to rend Jahari to pieces. Neira was good, damn it all. She was supposed to have survived. She was younger, only twenty-three.

"You're coming with me, pretty human," Jahari said, in a voice that was half-song. Like ones sung in smokey jazz clubs by curvy sirens. "Because if you don't, I'm going to start killing, and by the time your lover unbinds himself, I will have made a feast of a quarter of your army. I think I'll start with your friends, however."

Sarah bared her teeth first and then opened her mouth, only for Jahari to interrupt her.

"Before you think to wish me away, or my death, know I am not alone. And I am the friendliest to you. You may as well be a sister, after all. Aren't you nearly wed to my little brother by now? If the rumors are to be believed, that is." She tilted her head and flipped her dagger in the air, catching it again by the hilt without paying a lick of attention to it the entire while, her gaze boring into Sarah's. "I think we're going to be great friends."

"You just killed my friend!" she shouted, fighting against Ludo's grip.

"So you're in need of another. Come along, now. Don't fuss." Jahari gestured to her, a smile on her face that was more unsettling than it was sincere. "Or do you want your dear Ludo to be next?"

Ludo's snarl was so intense it made Sarah jump, though she never took her eyes from the fae. She reached up and tapped Ludo's wrist instead. "Let me go."

He rumbled, "Protect Sarah."

"Not this time," she insisted, yanking against his hold. "Let me go," she demanded once more.

"Let her go, stone slinger. Your boulders cannot fell us before we would make a pincushion of your hide," Jahari sung, still twirling her dagger around and around.

Sarah's guts were twisting, and she used that new strength she had been building to finally break free of Ludo, skirting around him to go to the fae female. Ludo swiped at her, but she was quicker from the start, though long-distance he could give her a run, for certain.

Jahari reached for her the second she came within distance, but Sarah did not wait to be pulled to her. She stopped right in front of Jahari and then punched the woman straight across the jaw, her hand immediately erupting in pain. It felt as though she had struck a brick wall.

Jareth's sister barely flinched, though a red mark bloomed. She did not seem to mind, however, as she grasped Sarah by her ponytail and yanked.

Sarah cried out, crashing to her knees. Jahari put the dagger to her throat. "Back off, troll, or I will bleed her. I know she cannot truly die, but do you understand how she will suffer? Come closer and I will do it, I vow."

Down on her knees, Sarah could see her friends body closer now. Her face was turned toward Sarah, and Neira's pale eyes were still open, unseeing. Blood pooled beneath the head and soaked into the thirsty soil, darkening it.

Sarah felt an answering pulse from her pendant, a warmth so hot it nearly blistered her skin, a shock of rage and fear. But she knew now that he had been bound, and Jareth was only one magic-wielder working alone against this mighty power.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Ludo taking several careful steps back, paws raised, though his growls still cut the air and made pebbles dance and skitter across the hard-packed sand.

The pain in her scalp made her eyes water, but seeing her guard and friend so still, the pallor of her skin like fresh wax—created a deluge of tears. Sarah wished like hell she had taken her up on self-defense lessons. Stupid, arrogant, to think that she would be fine with just her wishes. She was feeling the limitations of them now.

Her mind whirled despite the roaring grief and physical pain, trying to find the right words.

Why does it always come down to the words?

That first wish—the one to know more—seemed to extend a tendril.

She did not speak it, but wished it with all her heart.

I wish Jahari and all those who have come with her against Jareth's army would be banished a thousand miles from here!

Instantly, the pressure on Sarah's ponytail disappeared, as did the cold bite of sharpened silver at her throat. She sagged, looking around and finding that the guards were all frozen, still, though Ludo rushed to her side immediately.

Ludo stood guard, his rumbling growl stirring larger boulders to roll over, creating a half-wall in a circle around them.

Sarah crawled to Neira's body, brushing trembling fingers along the fiery red hair that had fallen over her face, exposing it before she pressed the eyelids closed, her stomach churning at that dead stare.

She whispered, "I'm sorry." And wept until Jareth found them.

###

The army's soldiers would bow to her respectfully now, even days after the attempted kidnapping. They knew who was to thank for them to still be living, instead of a good number of them having been slaughtered while standing, aware but unable to move. They described that stretch of time as a sort of hell.

Sarah pretended not to notice their reverence, especially when it coincided with her cycle. It had come upon her as she knelt over Neira's corpse. A reminder of the life Sarah still got to live.

Neira now lay in scattered ash and shards of bones from where they had burned her body in the night. The pyre had roared at one point, a column of fire twisting fifteen feet or so toward the heavens. Sarah had cried to see it, feeling it as though it were the moment that Neira's soul went free, rising along with the smoke and embers to dance amongst the stars.

She asked Jareth later that evening, when they were alone, "What happens when we die?"

He had regarded her quietly. He had been so silent, since finding her and Ludo. Getting them both back to the tent first, he then worked to free his soldiers and the camp from the stillness spell that had befallen them. And ever since his return, after the work was done and the camp was yet again alive with activity, he had given her few words. And she had been so out of herself that she had not minded, until now.

"Well?" she had demanded.

"I don't believe you wish to know the answer," he murmured, and refused to say more.

She was growing to resent it, the silence. The predetermination that he knew what she did and did not want to know or hear.

It made her shake with fury. She nearly wished herself home.

But what was home?

It was him, she knew. Jareth was home. And she hated that he still held back from her when, at this point, she was all in.

I have to remember that he's thousands of years old, she thought to herself now, as she ran the border lines of the war camp. This was her second circuit around, and the bowing from each of the sentries was starting to irk her.

Ludo ran at her side, as did two exceptionally good warriors. A centaur named Heron, his strides shortened a bit to accommodate her speed, and a burly goblin called Garl who ran surprisingly fast. Garl's pace made Sarah push harder, and the more she did so the more Neira's final moments flew from her mind.

Though, as though it were magnetic, that memory, it snapped back into her mind's eye the moment she would stop.

By the time she did, Sarah's shirt was utterly soaked with sweat, Ludo's hair was plastered with the same, and even Heron's chest rose and fell rapidly, though he looked largely unaffected. His dark eyes still scanned the terrain, his vantage point near as high as Ludo—except for now, when the troll had fallen to the ground, rolling around in the soft dust and coating himself in it.

Sarah laughed through her panting, watching her friend. "You're ridiculous."

"Ludo tired."

She thought he might be. He had not slept since Neira, and even he had his limits. Ludo had decided to act a sort of personal bodyguard wherever she went, despite that she wanted him to stop. She hoped it was just guilt, and that it would ease with rest.

Helping haul Ludo to a standing, Sarah patted him cautiously on the arm. "It's going to be hot today. I hope you'll sleep well."

They made their way back through the lines, going by the cooking tents interspersed with row upon row of barrack tents.

Sarah felt as though she had known these people now for a long while. She feared what was to come.

And how many might die.

Jareth stood just inside the pavilion, watching the group as they arrived and then slowly trudged in their various directions, the guards moving to a covered area where they would meet with leadership. Now that they had been tapped as Sarah's new escorts, they were included in the higher-up meetings. It was something that Jareth had decided after Neira's death.

They were still in the wastes and, despite the early hour, the sunlight was oppressive.

It was the end of their day. The army no longer marched in the golden hours, they moved at night. They had also started sending scouts out in all directions, gathering information and acting as a rotating shield to keep other bands and parties from sneaking up on them. Jareth had employed these tactics to some degree prior to the kidnapping attempt, but had amped up their efforts since.

Sarah gave him a weary smile but did not meet his eyes as she passed him and moved into the cooler, shaded interior of their shared space. "I need to take a bath."

"I had one prepared."

She nearly stopped, wanted to cling to his words so kindly spoken, but kept moving, saying nothing in return.

Jareth pinned up their tent door, plunging the space into further darkness, and Sarah yawned as she moved behind the many partitions. She glanced behind her to be sure that she was alone before she stripped and stepped into the steaming, water-filled tub. She bathed quickly, not wanting him to see her. It had been days since they last lay together, and she was beginning to feel shy about her nakedness, preferring to sleep in a tank top and shorts.

Jareth's voice came from the other side of the wooden screens, draped with fabric that kept the interior occupant easily out of sight. She could see him in shadowed outline, but that was all. "I was hoping we could dine together before bed. I prepared something special."

Sarah gripped her sponge tight. "Why?"

There was a pause longer than most, and then he said in a steady, soft voice, "If you still wish it, when the sun sets tonight you and I will be fully wed."

Sarah went utterly still, staring at his profile in disbelief. "I—" she started, then snapped her mouth shut for a solid minute, breathing carefully before she continued. "I'm sorry. I did not realize it was that time." Then she barrelled on. "But you should have reminded me. You should have been talking to me the last few days! Where have you been?"

His hand ran over his flyaway hair, and she heard his sigh all the way through her as she rose from the tub and stepped out. "It was not—I did not want to hurt you. I never do, it's just…" he trailed off, and she found frustration growing like a lump in her throat. "There is much you do not understand."

Sarah dried herself hurriedly as he spoke and now yanked on a robe, still belting it as she rounded the partition so she could see him.

What she saw made her pause, but not stop, the words burning on her tongue. His eyes were red-rimmed, and she could see the sheen of tears to them, but— "That's no excuse!" she cried, hoping he had already raised the noise barrier for their pavilion since she knew this would not be the only time she shouted. She went on, "You could give me books or tutors or give me some of your precious time." She spat the last.

Jareth regarded her for a moment, then stretched, arms reaching above his head, before he relaxed and then tilted his head, first one way and then the other. He was not looking at her the whole while, until he glanced up, and—

One Jareth simply stepped from the other.

Sarah gasped, her head reeling as her vision appeared to double. The second Jareth wore the same outfit as the first.

They glanced at one another, mirroring, further enhancing the sensation that she was seeing things.

"Sometimes it's easier," the new one started.

"To do this as two, instead of one," finished the original.

They both looked weary, though there was a lightness that had not been present prior to the split.

Sarah glanced between them. "This feels unfair. Two against one."

"No, my love," the second said. "We are not against you. And we never will be."

"If anything," said the first. "You should feel even more of my love, for it will come from two directions. Is this acceptable?"

She folded her arms over her chest. "Once again with the doing before asking but, yeah, that's okay."

Both Jareth's had the good grace to look abashed. "I have been a king for centuries, precious," said the first, reaching for her at last. His hand was clad in crisp black linen, near soft as skin as he brushed against the edge of her jaw.

Her breath hitched when he touched her, and the other made a small sound, coming closer. Her eyes burned with the need to shed tears, but she did not want to give in to the urge. "You stopped talking to me," she said again, the words harsh as she fought to keep her voice from breaking. "Are you going to stop loving me, too?"

Jareth's expression crumbled, both, and then she was being embraced by them, holding her as she trembled.

"I will never stop loving you," he said, the words fierce.

"No matter what happens in this world or the next, or the one after—I will always find you. We are bound, body and soul."

"I adore you."

"I love you."

"Let me take some of this pain," one of them said, she did not know which. "I would drink deep of you today. You could consider it a bridal gift."

"With two of us, we could pull more," said the other. "We hate that you think—feel this way. You are loved, Sarah Williams. By me and many others. You will never be unloved again."

Her heart pounded, and she found her cheeks tear-streaked when she went to wipe her eyes. "So you want to be drunk all day?" she asked, trying to make it sound light, but failing. Her words cracked a little.

"I want you to feel free," he said. "I want you to find joy again."

"I want you to trust you have us, always."

She looked between the two of them, then attempted to step back. Arms gripped tight, and she found a little thrill going through her before she could tamp it down. "I'm still cross with you."

"And what good will that ire do for you, my love?"

"I want answers before you're too inebriated to think straight," she argued, pushing against them both. Neither budged. "Let me go."

"No," they growled in tandem. "It's been too long since we've touched, you and I, and you thought—think I might leave you." Both shook their heads.

They gripped her firm but gentle, and she was not really struggling. At least, not yet.

She was also trying to ignore how hot this was making her, and how much she wanted those hands to wander. Both had an arm around her, one more over her shoulders and the other around her waist, but she was effectively sandwiched between the two. It was intensely erotic.

She could not help but remember what had happened the last time he split into doppelgangers. She had never known pleasure so intense.

Trying to keep the desire out of her voice, Sarah licked her lips. "You left me alone. Why?"

There was an edge of knowing to his smile, but Jareth answered. "I have not seen you so freshly grieving. When I came for you in the beginning of our betrothal, you smelled somewhat like this, but it was not so potent and raw. You had known Karen was dying for some time, I think, and made a measure of peace with it. But with Neira, that was—"

"I don't want to talk about what happened to her," Sarah said quickly, fear lacing her words. She stumbled over her next. "What if Jahari comes back for my other friends? I should never have brought them with us, I—"

He took his turn interrupting her. "You banished Jahari, lover mine. A banishment is one until lifted, she cannot return this way. The fae court is only a week away, at most, but you pushed her out a distance that would be hard-pressed to cover in a month. If she were even allowed to make her way back." His smile was back, and he cupped her face, turning it up to him. "You did everything right."

Sarah's eyes burned once more, and she wanted to deny what he said. There was a not-small part of her that felt to blame for Neira. "But if I had just—"

"You did everything right," he said again, sterner this time, and bent to kiss her.

She pulled in a breath the moment before his lips touched hers, and the kiss was—oh, she thought, I had almost forgotten.

Forgotten how the world went still when he touched her like this. How everything narrowed down to just the two of them.

Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing closer, and the one at her back released her. Sighing into the kiss, Sarah folded against Jareth, not knowing if this were the original or the second or if it mattered at all.

But he pulled back after a too-short span, his hands cupping her face. "I am sorry."

"I should not have been silent," the other said, to her side and just in sight. "I should not have pulled away."

"I do not know how to do this, Sarah mine," said the one who had kissed and now cradled her. "I have never been in love before, not like this. I have never had a relationship, or been someone's betrothed, a soon-to-be husband."

Sarah swallowed, her throat suddenly parched, and pulled back, holding him by the wrists gently to show she was not pulling back from some fear of him, or any kind of anger. She held his gaze while she slid back a step and found the other waiting with a goblet in hand, extending it to her.

She took it gratefully, gulping down the ice cold water with a gasp at the end. "Thank—"

"Stop thanking us," the one who had handed the water to her scolded. "Bad habit."

Sarah could not help but grin.

They shared a brief chuckle, and then Sarah stepped away, going to the dining table and refilling her water from the sweating silver jug set in the middle. She took several more healthy swallows before turning back to face both the Jareth's.

He had been right. It wasn't like two against one, it was as though his adoration were magnified. He had attention for nothing and no one but her. It made a woman's head spin.

Holding up a hand to prevent them from coming any closer, she said, "I have a few questions first."

"First before what?" one asked immediately, eagerness lacing his words.

"Before I let you take this," she said, indicating her chest, where heaviness had been resting for years, only growing as time went on. "Before we have sex, and before we're fully wed."

That seemed to sober him significantly. "And I have a surprise for you, still," said one. "When you're done with your questions."

"Ask away," said the other.

Sarah took a deep breath. "What happens after we die?"

Their expressions closed down. "I do not truly know," he said at last, the words slow and heavy-sounding. "There is rumor, speculation, and myth, but none have traversed through death and truly come through back to our side with tales to tell. Death is a spectre. What comes after, a mystery."

"You seemed to allude to it being something more significant," Sarah pressed.

Jareth sighed, and both ran hands through their hair. "We have our own thoughts on the matter."

"And what are those?"

"That we simply cease to be, precious. That the firestorm you saw was nothing more than the final push of fuel from a pyre full of the stuff. I believe that when we die, we're dead."

He looked at her, both pairs of eyes pleading, saddened.

Sarah took a deep breath, steadying herself. He might know a lot, but he did not know everything. She might not believe in the God she was raised to, but she believed there was more than just an end when one died.

"Were you mad at me?" she asked next, unable to keep the vulnerability from her voice and the question. "A little?"

"No," he said, the other following up to say, "Perhaps a little angry at myself."

"For keeping so much from you."

"For not speaking sooner, quicker."

The first laughed. "I am showing my age, I'm afraid."

Sarah's gaze moved between the two of them, watching the answers unfold.

"You did nothing wrong," the one to her left said, coming closer. "We were not punishing you."

The other followed in his stead, footsteps silent. "I'll only do that if you want me to."

"Consensual punishment," teased the first. "May we be done with questions now? I want to show you our surprise."

Sarah nodded, her body humming at his proximity despite herself. She believed him, but she still stung from those days on end of little contact. It would take her a while to be fully at ease.

Jareth touched her elbow and led her to the seating area just in front of their bed. There was a chest upon the low table, made of ornately carved dark wood chased with veins of gold. It almost looked as though elegant script covered the top.

Sarah ran her hand along the fine, soft wood, and glanced at the two Jareth's. "What is it?"

They smiled at her. "Open it," they said as one.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen

The first thing Sarah noticed as she pulled the hinged lid upwards was the delicious aroma of fresh-cut flowers. They filled the chest, buds and petals spilling out as she opened it, and then, there, nestled in the middle was a set of jewelry set against black velvet. But not just any jewelry.

There were matching sets of drop earrings and cuffed bracelets, yes, but center stage? A crown.

Sarah's breath caught as she took it in. It was taller than she had imagined one would be, with wicked silver points encrusted in diamonds and sapphires. Sweeping down from there to the band, whorls and designs made of magic, it seemed, the entire thing glowing as though it carried an inner light.

It looked, to her, similar to the flowers it nestled amongst, seeming to twist and twine as she watched it.

And in the center, an enormous sapphire carved with the same symbol as the pendant that ever hung upon her neck.

"I made the set," Jareth said softly, just behind her. "I don't need as much sleep as you do. I started on it when we began the campaign."

The vision of the crown blurred as tears came to her eyes, and Sarah whispered, "How? Where?"

"I have my ways," he said slyly from her left, now, and she saw the other come to her right. "Will you wear it for me?"

Sarah glanced between them both. "What—now?" She motioned down at herself, at her plain black robe, and gave a little hiccup, using the sleeve to wipe her eyes.

"Oh, yes," one purred. "That won't do."

Jareth reached for her, watching her face all the while for any sign of negation, she knew, but when he pulled at the bow holding the belted sash at her waist, she let him.

The robe fell open in the front, and the one behind her now reached out, pulling the fabric from her shoulders, letting it slither down her arms and body until he could pull it away entirely.

"There," said the one before her, expression hungry. "Like this."

Sarah could not help a somewhat wicked smile. "The crown, and nothing else?"

"The cuffs too, please," the one behind her murmured, and she could feel the heat of his hand as it hovered above the back of her neck. "My love."

"My Queen," said the other, catching her eye. "The Goblin Queen."

"The first, the last."

"The great and the beautiful."

Sarah did not feel shy about her nakedness anymore, standing there being so described. She reached for the cuffs first, sliding them on carefully. They seemed to tighten slightly around her wrist as soon as they were around it, and she raised her eyebrows at Jareth.

He gave her a smile. "I did not make them with physical material alone, precious, they are magic."

"The cuffs will give you strength, and the earrings speed," said the one at her back. "I want you to find out what the crown does on your own."

Sarah did feel stronger with the cuffs on, as though she could contend even with Jareth, if she would not be going against thousands of years of practice.

Hesitating to grab the crown, she threaded the earrings through her ears first, the weight of them nowhere near what she had expected.

Both of them continued to watch her, and when she reached for the final piece she could have sworn they held their breath.

Sarah settled the crown on her head and, though initially she believed she would look ridiculous, the look of pure wonderment on Jareth's face dashed those thoughts away.

They both stepped toward her, and Sarah felt the pendant hanging above the rise of her breasts give a sort of hum, the connected power there magnifying at Jareth's nearness. Connecting him, her, and The Labyrinth itself.

Jareth's breath caressed her skin, but still he did not touch her, despite that her breath was coming faster, her chest rising and falling as he neared.

Sarah wanted to claw for him, to haul him close, but something made her stay still, waiting, head straight, though the crown felt so secure she knew there was some magic at work there, too, helping it stay on.

Identical sets of eyes gazed at her, and then one asked, "Do you understand it yet?"

Her fingertips buzzed, her stance light, and she knew that she would lead him on a merry chase indeed, wearing these earrings.

But the crown? Sarah concentrated for a moment and then—

Knowledge unfolded, laying itself open, and she near snatched the crown from her head. "It's too much," she said instead, making no move. "I don't know how to—"

"Yes, you do," Jareth insisted, taking her hand, fingers curled around hers. They both stood so close that she could feel the heat coming off them. "You are the worthiest I know, to wield this power."

The crown was like an amplifier for what the pendant did, connecting her intrinsically to the Labyrinth, and the great powers at its heart. She could sense that land, so far away and yet beckoning, better than ever before. The Labyrinth itself was ancient, its magic coursing through her veins like sweet fire. She knew she was capable of doing so much more now. Magic was hers to know.

"I have done all I can, to ensure you are strong, and protected," the Jareth not touching her said. "I think this will guarantee that you are tied here. That when you make that last wish, you will not be taken from me."

The one holding her hand squeezed it and said fiercely, "I will not lose you."

Tears threatened again, and Sarah lifted her chin instead, saying, "Take of my grief. Not everything, but—I want you to drink deep, as you say. Both of you."

Hunger sparked in identical pairs of eyes. They said as one, "You mean it?"

"Yes," she breathed. "Take most."

Both of him moved in close, two arms wrapped around her waist from different directions. Fingers parted strands of her hair, caressed her scalp, and one whispered, "Tell us to stop, and we'll stop."

"Gods, thank you for this bounty," the other said, his voice a rasp.

Sarah felt her pulse ratchet up for a moment before lips ghosted against either side of her throat, and her head fell back as—

Bliss.

There was no other word for the sensation.

She could categorize each loss as he pulled it from her. Every person who had been ripped from her life one way or the other. There were so many. Starting with her grandparents when she had been just a child, and a beloved cousin just her age who had at nine years old been taken by cancer, just like Karen would be later. He drank from each of them, all of them. Her mother, father, Toby, friends and relatives all, until she felt as though she might float away for how light she was.

How deeply the roots had sunk into every inch of her.

And it was not just the deaths. It was every snub, every teacher frustrated with her wasted potential, every lost love opportunity. Every time she failed. It had happened so often that she had taken it all in, and it had morphed into something dark, and vile, and he imbibed of that, too.

The crown stayed atop her despite that her head had fallen so far back.

She clutched twin lovers close to her, and did not tell them to stop. It was they that pulled away, with gasps from one and, from the other, a delighted giggle. Neither went far, both clinging to her as much as she to them, all of them swaying slightly.

Sarah began to laugh a little, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks as she straightened and tugged both of them to her, leaning heavy on one as the other stroked her bare back. Those fingers began to trace lower, and she made a soft noise.

The one she gripped the tightest turned her face toward him. He was so beautiful.

"Are you alright?" he asked, the words very slow and careful. He was attempting not to slur, and failing.

Sarah took a deep breath. It was so incredibly easy. As though she could take in oxygen for minutes instead of seconds, as though she could run a thousand miles on one exhale. "I—" she did not know what to say, how to explain.

Pulling away from them both with a quick, "I'm fine, just—a moment, please," Sarah staggered over to what served as their dining table. She poured a goblet of clear, chilled water, her throat begging for it. It was some of the best she had ever tasted. Like fresh, clean snow melt.

Cold water trickled in thin rivulets down her neck as she drank, and their path down her chest, her breasts, before dripping to the carpet, made gooseflesh rise.

Glancing over her shoulder, Sarah saw the two Jareth's holding each other up, swaying as they spoke softly to one another. She caught one word in six. "… days… time… stay…"

Setting the goblet back down, Sarah looked around, and simply, for a moment, was. She could hear the gentle murmur of her lover talking to himself, and the faint camp sounds beyond the magical barrier dampening noise between the pavilion and them. The air smelled hot, dusty, and yet—it was some of the sweetest she thought she had ever breathed.

All her memories remained. Only that now, as she momentarily reflected back on them, they did not hold the burn of shame, the sting of embarrassment, or the weight of grief.

They simply were. Experiences that were in the past.

She examined her hands, the star sapphire ring still winking on her finger, and every movement, every breath—it was all so easy.

Unbelievably so.

That thing that all her experiences had morphed into, that inner belief that she was not worthy, unlovable, and a disgrace? All of that, on the other hand, was like fog lifting in a stiff wind. She could sense its utter departure from her mind, and the power it had put over her, and she spun back to the two Jareth's.

They ceased talking immediately, sensing her attention on them.

Hungry gazes locked.

Sarah got to them faster than she ever would have before the earrings, crossing the distance in half a second. Colliding, they were all kisses and grasping hands, Sarah ripping at their clothes, moaning as fingers parted flesh, finding her wet but not yet as soaked as she could get. Still, Jareth made a sound of deepest lust, thrusting fingers into her channel.

Sarah cried out, clinging to one, and then he was tipping her face to him and kissing her, tongue tracing the seam of her lips before being granted access. They kissed so deep, tongues twining and breaths mingling, that Sarah was delirious with it.

When the kiss broke she gasped, "I need both of you in me."

The one behind her, his fingers still pumping into her body, causing her knees to tremble, her wetness to surge, chuckled slightly. "We were hoping you'd say that."

"We want to fuck our pretty Queen," crooned the one who had kissed her, and now he asked, "What would you have us do?"

Sarah flushed and reached for more of his clothes, pulling them off him as she spoke. "I want you to bind me again," she said hoarsely, breath trembling with longing. "Claim me together."

His hands were on her from behind, and his breath was in his ear a moment later. "We'll have to remove the cuffs."

"We can't have you breaking your restraints," said the one in front.

Sarah reached for the clasp on one while the Jareth before her worked on the other. He took both and placed them back in the chest before joining Sarah and the other Jareth, circling them slightly.

"Do you want it to be here? With you standing?" he asked.

Sarah nodded, and was a moment later held, both wrists wrapped in silk cord, pulling her arms over her head.

She could feel a flood of heat in her core. "When we get back," she murmured as he began to press kisses to her flesh. "And you chase me through the Labyrinth—"

One of them made a groan, hand grasping her breast roughly, fingers playing with her nipples. She squirmed, gasping.

The other started stroking her again, fingertips slippery as he played over her clit.

Sarah's breath shuddered. "If you catch me…"

Laughter from both, masculine and so sure of his future victory.

"… I want you to fuck me like this," she gasped, pushing back on the one behind her, bumping her cheeks against his heated cock. "Held like this."

The one behind her whispered, "Do you want it to be two of us then, as well?"

"Only for fucking," she said. "If two of you are chasing me that wouldn't be—" the swirling on her clit intensified, and she pulled in a breath. "Fair."

Jareth kissed her as the one behind her began massaging her ass and spreading her so he could see and access her better. Warm oil trickled down, his fingers capturing it and helping ease it into her back passage.

Sarah moaned shamelessly into the kiss, thrusting back on that pressure, her grip tightening on her bonds.

She knew the oil would increase sensation, and trembled as more fluid coated his fingers, more oil, and she was dripping from her sex, so wet it was sliding down her inner thighs.

Breaking the kiss when she felt Jareth's tip against her backside, Sarah groaned and rubbed her breasts against the one before her. "You, too," she instructed.

He grinned at her, vanishing the rest of his clothes with a quick push of magic. "As my Queen commands."

Sarah cried out as the one behind began to press into her ass, his cock so hot and thick that she thought she would go crazy, that she was on fire from it. He eased out of her before he was fully sheathed, fucking her with shallow thrusts until she was crying out from want of more of him. "Deeper," she gasped, then made a high sound of surprise.

Bonds now encircled her thighs and calves, pulling her legs up and out, spreading her for them utterly. She had never felt so exposed. The bonds were numerous and wide-spread enough that she felt no pressure or pain. Only an increase throb of pleasure.

The one behind her, who had gone still until she was fully restrained, pushed into her deeper, deeper, until, with a low cry of his own, he was fully within.

Sarah's chest was heaving, her core throbbing with unfulfilled need. She looked to the one before her, in time to see him step between her spread thighs, his cock in hand. "Gods, you're so wet," he moaned as his tip pressed against her. "Will you always be wet for me, precious?"

"Yes," she gasped, then, "Please, Jareth…"

He seemed to have a little more difficulty pressing into her, but soon he was sliding in and out just as the one behind her did the same, their motions syncing perfectly.

Sarah came screaming his name, her muscles trembling, and yet he was relentless in his motions. This was a fae lover, after all, and his stamina was something incredible. When he had just drunk of her grief? He seemed to lose himself in her in a way she had yet to feel from him, completely.

"My love," he rasped into her neck, grasping her hip as he thrust into her channel, relentless.

"My Queen," murmured the one behind, hands encircling her thighs as he fucked her.

"My bride."

Sarah shivered, overcome, eyes closed as her head tilted back. She had lost track of how many times she had come. His mouth was at the side of her neck and at her nipple, and his hands were everywhere. She wanted this moment to stretch into infinity. Feeling so incredibly full, pleasure ramping like nothing she had ever known. If she had ever believed sex would be like this, she would have thought she was indulging in fantasy.

But this was real.

This evening, Jareth would be her husband, and she his wife. Their union would be, in the eyes of the Underground, permanent. Divorce was incredibly rare, however permitted it might be.

This was her life.

Jareth broke from her breast with a cry and went still after a last hurried thrust, emptying himself into her just as the one behind her sped briefly and also went still.

Sarah squirmed as they twitched within her, then sighed as they slid from her in tandem and stepped back. A heartbeat later and her bonds were gently loosening, lowering her safely to the ground though her legs shook and trembled.

They were both there to catch her, and together they made their way to the bath. The water was lukewarm, the heat of the day already such that a hot bath would have been intolerable. Sarah sighed as she stepped in and sank down, reaching up for the earrings and crown.

They helped her, one taking the treasures back to the chest they had come from. The one who remained knelt beside the tub and dipped a sea sponge in the water. "We were thinking of returning to one. For the ceremony."

"Whenever you want," Sarah said gently. "I love you as one, or three, or ten. Please, actually, don't do ten of you that would be way too much."

Jareth laughed, and beckoned his twin closer when he returned. He stepped into the first, and then there was just the one. Like a trick of the light. Sarah barely noticed the instant it happened.

He turned back to her with a smile that was all for her. "I can only hold my duplicates for a day at the most, the more I create the shorter my time with them. When you first experienced it, we had maybe six hours in total."

"That's not so bad," Sarah said, sinking further into the water, suppressing a yawn. "How do you feel? After taking all that grief?"

His look was incredibly knowing. "I took more than just grief, didn't I?"

She played with fingers along the surface of the water, and gave him a languid smile. She felt she could sleep for days, or not at all, and be just as refreshed. "You took that ever-present inner belief. I felt it unravel."

His hand took hers, and he swayed slightly on his knees before the tub, still under the effects of that grief and pain, no doubt. "I have never felt something quite like it. Never been able to so indulge with anyone."

"That may be the last time. I don't think there's much left." She touched her skin over her breastbone. "I can only feel the faintest sliver."

"Toby?"

She nodded. "I don't think it will let go for some time."

"I know, my love. Just do not let it grow. It is not for that."

Sarah gave him a long look. "Don't do that again."

He startled, blinking slowly. "What?"

"Pull away from me. I know you thought that giving me space was somehow providing me with what I needed, but I need you to understand that will never be what I need. I could be screaming and throwing things at you. I promise I'll try not to, but just—don't leave me alone again. Please."

Jareth's expression sobered. Both his hands encircled hers, the one with the star sapphire ring. He kissed her knuckles. "I promise. I'm old, but I learn, and I promise I will not distance myself like that again, ever."

The spell work took hold like thin ribbons tightening around her chest. She smiled at him, then hauled him into the tub.

###

Sarah had imagined her wedding sometimes, when she was still a young teen. She had imagined an enormous ball gown trailing lace and silk, of glittering silver ribbons and diamonds in her hair.

In short, she had imagined most often a dress like the one she had worn to dance with the Goblin King the first time. But after that run had completed, and all the years that followed, that dream dimmed to nothing.

She had felt stirrings of the imaginings in the last few months, since being pulled back to the Underground and joining with Jareth as his betrothed.

But she had not considered that they were in the midst of a war campaign, and with that there would come certain dress expectations.

All the goblins lining the aisle on either side of her long walk were in formal black, edged with blue, and lined with silver buttons. Jareth, who she could see at the far end, watching her regally, wore a generals uniform, silver darts at his collar and epaulets fringed with silver at his shoulders.

Sarah was in a dress, but it was split in the front, exposing her legs and form-fitting black pants like what the rest of them wore. Her shoes were sensible, considering the terrain, but that was where sensibility, in part, ceased.

Her dress was corseted, with a plunging neckline exposing a sliver of her stomach, ending just before her belly button. Everything was black and sapphire silk, nothing on her shoulders save beaded sleeves that draped down her arms. The skirt was full with a slight train, the dark blue silk swirling with black. Her dark hair was piled high and pinned, circled by the crown alone. Belted at her waist was a long dagger, the blade more like that of a gladius or short sword. It was jeweled and quite decorative, but like all things in the Underground was more than just beauty. She had toyed with it earlier, finding it sharp as a razor.

This was not the virginal white dress and ensemble she had imagined in years past. This was the wedding dress of an empress, as Jareth had put it, the dress of a woman going to war beside the man she loved.

The musicians started up the Underground's version of the wedding march, and Sarah began her walk. No one would walk with her. There was no one who could give her away but herself, and she had already done that, though this would be the formal acknowledgement.

Jareth watched her all the while, not a single fidget or twitch. Behind him and to the side, direct center, was Hoggle. He stood on a platform that allowed him to be more of a height with them and the crowd. He would once more officiate, though Jareth had challenged her on it. She remembered his final attempt, pleading that the dwarf hated him.

Sarah had asked, if he hates you so much then why has he agreed to this? Jareth had thrown up his hands, giving up the argument.

Hoggle watched her, and she could not help but notice there was no lingering disappointment, no regret. She had sat with him, Didymus, and Ludo. They talked for almost an hour before the ceremony, telling them all but the more lurid details about what had transpired between her and Jareth. The taking of all that grief and ill belief in herself.

Hoggle had said that he could sense it, the lightness in her. Ludo had grinned and Didymus had exclaimed her his lady, always his lady, but that now she could be that for others.

All these thoughts swirled as she stepped closer. She did not do the bridal walk but strode slowly, hips swaying a little. She did not hold a bouquet—there were no flowers growing out here in the wastes, and she would not have Jareth waste magic on a few pretty petals—but had one hand on the grip of the dagger. The other she used to reach for Jareth as she came close enough.

He extended his hand, fingers gripping hers, flesh against flesh. There was the hint of a smile, and then he was back to the regal mask, turning to nod at Hoggle.

Her friend wore the robes of his office, long and black with blue edging and a silver stole. When she stopped before him, facing Jareth, they shared a long look.

Hoggle glanced at Jareth, stuck for a moment, then back to Sarah where he gave a shallow nod. A sort of acquiescence, she supposed. This passed his judgement.

Clearing his throat, the dwarf began, "Gathered goblins, centaurs, fairies, pixies, dryads and naiads, lesser and lower spirits, and all other of the Underground—we come together now to bear witness."

The sun was setting behind them, streaking the sky with crimson as the dying light caught in the high, wispy clouds. Stars were just starting to appear.

Sarah gripped Jareth's hand, and he squeezed back, though his expression remained the same.

She had eyes only for him.

"If there is any among the congregation here assembled who believes they have due course to reject this sealing of marriage…" Hoggle said next, words trailing off as he looked over the crowd. She could have sworn, seeing him in her peripheral, that he was glaring at those around them. As though daring any to come forth. As though he were protecting this.

Something in her chest warmed, and her other hand joined the one linked to Jareth, holding his mismatched gaze. Though he showed no emotion on his features, his eyes brimmed with adoration, lust, and love, above all.

Hoggle's voice washed over her, speaking of the intertwining of the fates of the two of them, spinning a quick, nearly mythic, tale of their love. Sarah tucked away the words to pour over later, but the knowing seemed to kick in to gear despite the enormity of the moment.

Hoggle wants to protect me, in case Jareth ever falls, she realized, knowing that she already was, thanks to her love's machinations. It was another reminder, however, that this was war, and war was chaos. There was no guarantee of who would live, and who would die.

Sarah pushed those thoughts aside.

"Sarah Williams," Hoggle said, drawing her attention slightly. "Do you take Jareth the Goblin King as your husband, from now to eternity?"

She was squeezing his fingers hard, had been for some time, but Jareth just gazed at her. She nodded. "I do."

"And you, Jareth the Goblin King, do you take Sarah Wil—"

"I do," Jareth spoke clearly and over the remainder of what Hoggle was to say. "To eternity."

"Then I pronounce you fully wed, in the eyes of the gods and all here, to spread the knowledge wide." Hoggle intoned.

Something seemed to click in the back of Sarah's mind, just as her lover—her husband, she amended quickly—bent and caught her mouth in a brief, firm kiss. The moment their lips touched, the sun shed the last of its light, and torches placed along the walkway flared to sudden, brilliant light.

Their army erupted in cheers and applause.

Jareth turned her to face them all, standing tall and proud at her side. Though she was the only one who wore a crown, they both looked just as suited to a throne.

Sarah cast her eyes over them all and felt a lump rise in her throat even as a rush of magic from the Labyrinth near took her breath away. Opening her free hand, splaying the fingers wide with the palm upturned, Sarah funneled that energy into something else.

It was another of the Knowings. Something she discovered quite by accident, intuition, and potentially some sort of divine guidance.

Hundreds of orbs of multicolored light flowed from her hand, hovering in place over the congregated thousands like its own sea of stars.

Some reached up and plucked a few down. A fairy tried to eat one, but found it too much a mouthful.

"A good offering, wife," Jareth said, mimicking her posture so they stood with hands clasped, and upraised. From him came, instead of lights, crystals. They danced among those she had summoned, refracting the light. Most were too high for anyone to reach, though one winged creature leapt and grasped one, coming back to the ground with a cry of triumph.

Sarah raised her brows at Jareth, who squeezed her fingers once more. He began to pull her off the slight incline where they had joined as man and wife, Hoggle trailing them at a respectful distance. Jareth led to the banquet tent, she knew, where they would host not just the generals and lieutenants, but as many as could fit. There would be more food and feasting for the rest of the army, small tents orbiting the main.

Jareth's thumb brushed the inside of her wrist. "I told you. We create magic. And our people do love the taste of it."

They were all leaping now, plucking down crystal and glittering light one after the other, she could not help but notice. Jareth pulled her closer, hand leaving hers so he could wrap an arm around her waist while they strolled.

They were now close enough to speak softly, and she said, "And I'm able to use magic now, like you?"

"You've always been—had—magic, precious," Jareth said, sound nearly smug. It made a sliver of uneasy worry into the base of her spine. "The wishes are one thing, but we've been at it for quite some time, you and I. My magic has quite literally poured into you."

Her cheeks flared hot.

He continued, "We may not be creating life, at least not yet, but our union is a powerful thing. Especially for you."

"Why?" Sarah asked, and her stomach threatened to flip. She stopped them, and put an arm out to stop Hoggle. A sheen split the air, and her ears popped slightly, eyes widening as she realized what she had done, locking her and Jareth into a private bubble of speech. "How? Magic—it's never happened like this before. It's never been so—"

"Easy?" he finished, grinning. "Good job on the ward, by the way. Hoggle is fuming."

She glanced to the side, finding her friend glaring at the other side of the slight ripple to the air. She gave him an apologetic smile before turning the full force of her attention back to Jareth. "Stop distracting me. Stop obfuscating. Tell me plain. Why me, all this time?"

The backs of his fingers brushed her cheek, tucking back strands of hair. "Born of both worlds, and belonging to none," he quoted, and she felt the worlds in her as though the molten gold ink was burning before her eyes. "The prophecy tells of you, does it not? Both worlds."

She stared at him for a long moment, then pulled in a breath. "My mother—"

"A siren, I believe. It explains your natural charisma. She must have found her way through to the Above some decades, maybe centuries, past." His head tilted. "I do know that she is truly dead," he added apologetically.

Sarah pulled in a breath. "Belonging to none?" she pressed.

"Most who are born of two people express a similar sentiment. That there is nowhere they truly belong, that there is no true home." His hand wrapped around the back of her neck. "But you belong to me."

Her chest squeezed, and then steel straightened her spine. "But you belong to me, too."

Jareth's grin was savage. "Yes, my love. Now, shall we to our wedding party?" He leaned forward and she did not move back, allowing him to intrude on her space. Her body sang at his proximity. The smell of him, and the warmth he exuded, went straight to her core. "Or shall I spirit you away, and consummate this union?"

She almost asked for the second option, knowing that he would find her, even now, ready for him. Instead she reached up and pulled his hand away from her neck, kissing his palm before breaking the ward with a thought. They had a bit of an audience by now, their generals and soldiers watching the heated exchange whilst simultaneously grabbing for magical favors still floating overhead.

Sarah pulled Jareth along. "We have guests to attend to, husband."

He laughed merrily, and strode beside her. "Of course, wife."

Her body warmed at the title, though her mind was still ill at ease, a disquiet shadowing her steps. She had the feeling that, once again, Jareth had not lied.

But he had not told her everything, either, and her Knowing was of no help, here. For whatever reason, the mystery remained.

Yet, feeling the power of the Labyrinth in her veins, connected through Jareth, the pendant, the crown, and having an army at her sides and back that, now, Sarah knew would follow her lead—meant that, mystery or not, Jareth was protecting her. Safeguarding her and trying to ensure that she would remain, after the last wish was spoken.

His ways may be alien—fae—but Jareth loved her, and he wanted her with him.

From now and into eternity, she thought, their short vows seared into her heart. I am his, and he is mine.