Prisoner of Love (Rated R)
by The Hooded Crow (Email: [email protected])

Usual disclaimer - I don't own Sarah, or Jareth, or The Labyrinth. I've added a few extensions on the castle and Sovay is mine. The rest belongs to Henson productions.

Sarah’s nerves threatened to overcome her as her limousine drew up outside the church. She still found it hard to believe how much her life had changed over the past three months. She knew that she was the envy of all her friends, having landed the most eligible bachelor in town. Alan Richardson was ten years older than her, experienced, sophisticated and handsome, not to mention rich. He was an international businessman with his own chain of hotels. Sarah was his perfect partner and he had swept her off her feet in a whirlwind romance. They made a handsome couple, her dark beauty complemented his fair complexion perfectly. The world she was about to enter as his wife was beyond her wildest dreams, she would be mixing with the high flyers of the business and entertainment world and she knew that Alan expected her to be an equal partner, a spokeswoman for the company. True, she had given up her own dreams of becoming an actress to marry Alan, but everyone kept telling her that this was an incredible opportunity, and she wouldn’t regret it.

It was hard to believe her wedding day was here at last, and yet the morning had flown past already. A lot of preparation had gone into making sure this would be the most memorable day of her life, yet Sarah couldn’t help but feel as though it were all out of her hands somehow, as though someone else was controlling her. She was still struggling with vague feeling of doubt as she stepped out of the limousine, but passed it off as last minute apprehension.

An appreciative sigh arose from the crowd gathered outside the church as they watched her step lightly from the car, her attendants stepping in to smooth out her skirt and make sure it looked perfect. She wore a cream coloured medieval style dress, with long fluted houpelande sleeves, a sweetheart neckline and a twenty-foot train. The bodice had been hand embroidered with thousands of tiny diamante crystals, they sparkled a myriad of coloured lights in the afternoon sun. Her hair had been painstakingly piled on top of her head, woven through with ribbons and crowned with an exquisite diamond coronet, a few stray curls tumbled down to frame her face, she was the very picture of medieval beauty that she had always longed to be on her wedding day. Her father looked so proud of her, as he came to take her arm and walk her up the aisle. She smiled to herself, the whole day was worth it just to see the expression of awe on his face, almost as though he couldn’t quite believe that this vision of loveliness was his little girl.

The first strains of the wedding march could be heard from the church, this was their cue. Sarah’s knees had all but turned to jelly, and she was glad of her father’s arm for support as they walked up the aisle. A sea of smiling faces all merged into each other, all wishing her well as she passed, but Sarah barely acknowledged them, her attention was fixed on Alan, standing at the other end of the long aisle, he was wearing a long tail coat, and the sunlight streaming through the stained glass window was throwing multicoloured highlights into his blond hair.

Sarah froze, she was momentarily transported to another time, another world, where a tall stranger in a frock coat elegantly danced past her, colourful highlights in his hair. Her stomach tied itself into a knot, and a terrible empty feeling suddenly gnawed at her heart. She blinked, and the illusion shattered.

Relief washed over her, and she let out a huge sigh, she hadn’t even been aware that she was holding her breath. Her father squeezed her arm reassuringly, and she turned and saw the concern in his eyes. She smiled feebly back at him, she was understandably nervous, she hoped she hadn’t let her composure slip completely.

The walk down the aisle seemed to last forever, and yet suddenly here she was standing by Alan’s side. His eyes sparkled brightly with emotion, as he looked upon her in her wedding gown. She took his breath away. He took her hand, pressed it to his lips with a reassuring kiss, and winked at her. Everything would be alright now, and she smiled back, lost in his eyes. The priest cleared his throat, signalling that he was ready to start the ceremony.

‘Dearly Beloved, We are gathered here today in the sight of God to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony....’

Sarah looked around, everything seemed to be happening so fast, and yet at the same time she seemed to be moving in slow motion. She caught sight of Toby, looking angelic in his page boy suit, and smiled, he had turned into such a cute kid. He poked his tongue out at her, making her giggle nervously. The priest glared at her, she should be paying attention. Sarah forced herself to look at the statue on the podium, she didn’t dare look at Alan, she knew if she caught his eye she wouldn’t be able to control herself, and she would dissolve into fits of giggles. She tried to focus on the words that the Priest was saying.

‘If any man do allege and declare any impediment why they may not be coupled together in matrimony, by God’s Law or the Laws of the Realm, let him now come forward...’

There was a crash, and a scream from the back of the church. The huge double doors had flown open, sending a chill wind through the building, people fought to keep hold of their hats, and the candles on the altar guttered and died. A silhouetted form stood in the arched doorway, hands on his hips, his cloak billowing out behind him. He coldly surveyed the scene in front of him for a few moments then began a slow walk up the aisle. His very presence demanded obeisance, and the wedding guests seemed mesmerised, turning their heads to watch his every move. There was no sound other than the clicking of his boots on stone.

‘Sarah, is this some kind of bad joke?’ Alan had placed a hand protectively over hers, and was trying to push her behind him.

‘It’s no joke.’ Sarah whispered. She pressed closer to him, afraid. Jareth looked absolutely furious.

‘Do you know this man?’ Alan looked at her apprehensively, fearful of her answer.

Sarah couldn’t tear her eyes away from Jareth, as he advanced upon her. He was majestic, powerful and terrifying.

‘Yes,’ she whispered ‘He’s the Goblin King’ her voice became a squeak, her throat was incredibly dry. She glanced fearfully at Toby, who had gone pale. He remembered too.

Her pre-wedding nerves had nothing on the absolute terror that she felt at this moment.

‘Goblin King?’ Alan looked incredulously at her, ‘Sarah, you don’t believe that nonsense do you? This is an elaborate prank. A joke, Sarah, it’s just someone in a fancy costume. If I ever get my hands on the person who organised this I’ll...’

‘SILENCE !’

Jareth gave Alan a withering look, and despite himself, Alan shut up, glaring daggers at the Goblin King. With a wave of his hand Jareth dismissed him as insignificant. Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes, as she felt Alan tense beside her, this was going to get ugly.

Jareth had turned his attention to the priest, who was standing at the altar, opening and shutting his mouth like a goldfish.

‘I believe you were saying something?’ He prompted.

The priest fumbled with the bible he was holding. ‘ Ah, yes, uh... where were we?’ He stammered.

‘Let me help you out.’ Jareth’s voice dripped with ice. ‘ You had just asked if there was any reason these two fools shouldn’t be married.’

The priest nodded. Sarah’s eyes widened, and her hands flew to her mouth in horror.

‘You can’t be serious!’ she cried.

Jareth’s head snapped around, and he grinned malevolently at her reaction.

‘Oh, but I can.’ He towered over her, eyes glinting dangerously. Never taking his eyes from hers he announced to the enthralled congregation.

‘You see, Sarah loves me. She always has.’

‘NOOOOO!!!’

A scream of anguish escaped from Alan’s throat, and he leapt forward, fists raised to punch Jareth, aiming straight for his face. There was a sickening sound of flesh connecting, and Sarah winced. She was surprised to see Jareth stagger back slightly, holding his jaw, as blood spurted from his mouth. Encouraged by the sight of blood, Alan moved in for the kill.

He met a wall of stone.

Jareth simply blocked his punch, and briefly held him struggling at arms length.

‘You don’t surprise me twice.’ he spat, before throwing him to the floor.

‘Enough of this!’ he growled. ‘Sarah...?’ He held his arm out for her. She shrank back.

‘No, Jareth, you can’t take me against my will.’

‘Wrong answer!’

He took hold of her arm, and marched her down the aisle of the church, ignoring the outraged cries of the congregation. Sarah struggled, but he had a grip like iron, it was no use.

‘Somebody call the police!’

Sarah heard Alan’s voice shouting from the back of the church.

‘Why are you doing this, Jareth, Why?’ She cried, tears streaming her make up in black lines down her face.

He didn’t answer, just carried on pulling her along with him, his face set in grim determination. People tried to stop him, but he just batted them away like flies.

‘Please, Jareth, you’re hurting me!’

She twisted her arm to get some relief, and he relaxed the pressure ever so slightly, but still held her in a vice-like grip. They reached outside, and he ploughed on, not paying any heed to her protests, and not looking behind him. He did not stop until they were outside the gates of the church.

‘Finally!’ he muttered.

He turned to face her, a triumphant expression on his face, as he reached for his amulet with his one free hand.

She began to wonder what he was up to - why had they stopped here? People were streaming out of the church towards them, and in the distance she could hear sirens moving closer - someone had been quick off the mark calling the police.

Suddenly the ground lurched underneath her, and she screamed as she watched the world she knew fade from view. He was taking her back to his castle! She watched in dismay as the first few people tried to catch her, their arms outstretched as they grasped desperately into thin air.

The lurching sensation lasted a few brief moments, and suddenly they were standing in a stone corridor, outside a gothic archway, which framed a stout wooden door. A winged gargoyle leered down at her from atop the lintel, and flaming torches cast eerie shadows on the walls. Jareth opened the door and pushed her gently inside. They were standing in a small room with a flagstone floor and gothic windows. A single bed was pushed up against the far wall, and a solid wooden vanity table, and a small fireplace were the only other features. Another closed door lay to the left of the entrance. Sarah supposed it led to the bathroom.

‘This room is yours, Sarah, please make yourself at home.’ He finally let go of her arm, and she stood staring at him in shock for several moments.

‘You can’t do this to me! Take me back at once! I demand that you let me go. You have no right to keep me here against my will.’ Jareth just looked at her.

She rubbed her arm where he had gripped her so tightly - she would have bruises there, she knew it.

‘What would you have me do, Sarah?’ he said quietly ‘Stand by and idly watch you throw your life away on that little jerk you were about to marry?’

She looked incredulously at him. He had just ruined the most important day of her life, and now he was insulting Alan. That was the last straw. She slapped him across his face, hard.

‘You bastard! Either take me back home, this minute, or get out!’ She hissed into his shocked face.

There was a dangerous look in his eyes as he backed away, his mouth was set into a thin cruel line. He slammed the door behind him, and Sarah heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. She ran and looked out of the window, drawing back as she saw the ground far below her. She was trapped! Frantically she tried the other door, it opened into a small stone room with a tiny window, and a wooden bench set against the far wall.

There was no way out of here.

Emotion finally overcame her, and she collapsed onto the bed sobbing uncontrollably into the train of her wedding gown.

It is difficult for anyone to sustain strong emotions over a long period, and eventually Sarah cried herself out.

She lay on the bed perfectly still, staring ahead, unfocussed. Occasional sobs still racked her body but she was drained and numb. Her thoughts jumped violently between her loathing of Jareth, and her concerns about her family. Her father and Karen would be beside themselves with worry, and Alan must be climbing the walls by now.

‘Why?’ the question kept repeating itself over and over in her mind. Why had Jareth decided to act now? It had been nine years since she had beaten the Labyrinth, and he hadn’t entered her thoughts for at least seven of those years. It didn’t make sense. And the arrogance of the man!

‘You see Sarah loves me, she always has’

His words haunted her.

She didn’t love him, nothing could be further from the truth.

So why hadn’t she been able to deny it?

* * *

Jareth ordered the goblins out of the throneroom, and they scattered, knowing the thunderous look on his face only too well. Now he sat alone, brooding, rolling a crystal back and forth along the arm of the throne. He knew he had acted impulsively, and maybe foolishly bringing Sarah here against her will.

Ever since she had left the Labyrinth, Sarah had haunted him. That is not to say that he pined for her - far from it, there were plenty of attractive fey in the Underground who were more than willing to make up for the gap that Sarah had left, and Jareth would never lack for female companionship, should he wish it. He had never quite found another to match her, though. The feelings he had for Sarah ran deep, she held a special place in his heart, and he cared enough to occasionally find out what she was doing with her life.

The past three months Jareth had become restless and uneasy, as Alan Richardson turned on the charm, and Sarah had fallen for it. She had been totally taken in by the glamour and allure of Alan’s success. There was a price for success, however, and Sarah was paying dearly. The world in which Alan Richardson moved was a far cry from Sarah’s reality, it was ruthless, harsh, and corporate; there was no room for fantasy. She had tried very hard to fit in with her new role as Alan’s partner, business suits and designer clothes had found their way into her wardrobe, and she had taken to wearing her hair scraped back off her face in a severe businesslike style.

One by one she had given up her hopes and dreams to be with Alan, and Jareth had watched despairingly as she slowly lost touch with everything that made her ‘Sarah’.

She had even given up acting.

Despite this, Jareth had resolved not to interfere, Sarah was happy, and that was all that mattered.

Then the unthinkable had happened.

Sarah had accepted Alan’s proposal.

The wall in Jareth’s private chambers still bore the scars where he had lost control and hurled a crystal, creating a violent pattern of fused glass and masonry. Luckily the castle had been built to withstand magical attacks, and his actions had caused little structural damage. Nonetheless, the anguish he felt that night would remain with him forever. Couldn’t she see that she was being stifled, drained of all her creative vitality?

Jareth had been so certain that she would eventually come to her senses and call the engagement off. It just wasn’t conceivable to him that Sarah could actually love someone as grey and mundane as Alan Richardson, let alone marry him. She had been swept off her feet by his charm and his money, and hadn’t given herself time to think. It had therefore come as a terrible shock when he had looked into the crystal and discovered Sarah getting ready for her wedding.

She had looked so breathtakingly beautiful in her wedding gown, so happy and radiant, and yet when Jareth had looked into her eyes they had been dead, lifeless. All the spirit and fire that used to burn so brightly in those eyes had been spent, and it had caused him physical pain to realise that the Sarah he loved so dearly was completely lost to him. A terrible roiling anger had gripped him, and he realised that he had to save her, if it was the last thing he did. He had to at least try, he could not live with himself knowing that he’d done nothing to stop her losing her soul.

Sarah would never know how much it had cost Jareth to win her back. Arcadia and the Church could not co-exist, and he had put his life in danger when he had taken his first step onto consecrated ground. It had been extremely foolhardy, his powers had been stripped, and every step he had taken further into the church had caused searing agony to shoot through his body. Had he remained inside the Church any longer, he would have been in serious trouble, it was even possible that he could have died. He had gambled on the fact that Sarah wouldn’t realise his vulnerability, and had relied on intimidation and sheer bloody mindedness to get her away.

Even after they’d left the grounds of the church he’d had to rely on the power of his amulet to get them to safety. He shuddered slightly, that had been too close for comfort, he was only now regaining his powers.

The only sound echoing around the throneroom was the delicate swish made by the crystal as Jareth rolled it back and forth, back and forth. Eventually he gave in to temptation, and snatched it up to gaze into its depths.

A pitiful scene greeted his eyes, Sarah lay despondently on the single cot bed, staring at her ceiling. Her hair was unbound and her eyes were red from crying. She looked lost and forlorn, anguish and grief marred her delicate features and her crumpled wedding gown draped across the small bed and trailed onto the floor. A ragged sigh echoed around the throneroom, Jareth longed to go to Sarah and comfort her. He wanted nothing more than to hold her close and console her, to kiss away her tears, and stroke her hair. After his actions today he couldn’t blame her for hating him. And she did hate him, he knew, she would never forgive him for this. A single tear dropped onto the crystal.

‘Ah, my sweet Sarah, believe me, I feel your anguish as keenly as you do. One day I hope you will understand.’

He closed his eyes and let the crystal drop to the stone floor, where it shattered into a million glittering shards.

Bored, and exhausted from crying, Sarah sat up. She had no idea how long she had lain on the bed, possibly an hour? Maybe two? Jareth had not returned. He couldn’t keep her locked up indefinitely, could he?

She swung her legs down, and felt her foot make contact with something under the bed. Reaching underneath, she discovered a chamber pot, complete with lid, and some kind of coat of arms enamelled on to the side of it.

Sarah looked at it in distaste, she had read about such things, but had never really thought that she would encounter one, for some reason she had thought that the Labyrinth would be more sophisticated. Come to think of it, there hadn’t been any sign of a bathroom or toilet adjoining her room. She looked again at the chamber pot.

‘No way am I using that!’ she shuddered at the thought.

She decided to explore her surroundings, and examined the vanity table. It was quite a sturdy little dresser, solid dark wood with a mirror and drawers, which were empty. The top lifted to reveal an ornate washbowl, but there were no taps, and her room didn’t appear to have a source of water. How on earth was she supposed to use this if there was no water? Obviously magic was involved somehow. Sarah sighed and replaced the lid.

Judging by her reflection in the mirror, she could do with a wash and freshen up, but there was no apparent way for her to use this contraption.

Perhaps she had missed something in the other adjoining room. She pushed the door open. There was a stone bench built into the outside wall, she had originally thought it was wooden, but on closer inspection she could see that it was a wooden slatted seat on a stone base. Sarah began to get an uneasy feeling about what this might be, and she lifted the slats carefully, dreading what she might find underneath.

‘Oh no...’

She had been right. A draught blew into the room from the square hole in the stone, and Sarah found herself looking down into a long dark stone shaft, far below she could make out a hint of daylight streaming in at the bottom.

‘You have GOT to be kidding!’

Sarah let the lid drop onto the medieval toilet with a thud, and hurried out of the room, so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she almost walked straight in to Jareth.

He was leaning on the wall, looking relaxed and elegant in just a shirt and breeches, much more informal than Sarah had ever seen him. His expression was cool, but his eyes were alive and intense.

‘This is disgusting!’ She glared at him..

What did you expect, Sarah? Plumbing?’ he smiled wickedly back at her.

Ah yes, Sarah had a lot to learn about life in a castle.

‘You don’t really expect me to stay here, do you?’ She hissed ‘I can’t live like this.’

‘People in your world lived like this for centuries, Sarah.’ he shrugged.

‘You’ll get used to it.’

‘No I won’t, I’m not staying!’ she glared at him.

‘Look, Jareth, you’ve had your revenge and ruined my wedding, surely that makes us even? I’ve had enough of this little charade, and I want to go home. Alan must be going out of his mind with worry by now.’

Jareth frowned.

‘Sarah, wake up. You don’t really believe that he loves you, do you?’ He stepped closer to her, leaned over, and whispered,

‘You don’t mean anything to him, Sarah. He wants a pretty wife to look good by his side. You are an accessory, a plaything, just like all his other expensive toys.’

‘NO!’ Sarah screamed.

‘That’s just not true!’

Sarah laid into him, pushing him back with each word until he felt the cold stone of the wall against his back, and was unable to retreat any further. She grasped hold of his shirt, and twisted his collar to a stranglehold around his neck, pinning him up against the wall.

‘How dare you say such spiteful things!’ she hissed into his face, too furious to be afraid.

‘You’re just jealous because Alan is so much more of a man than you’ll ever be!’

Jareth let the insult ride, his pulse was racing and he revelled in her proximity, gazing down into her angry eyes, fighting a dangerous urge to lean over and kiss her. Her face was inches away from his, and her lips had parted invitingly. He groaned inwardly, this was such sweet torture...

As his breathing quickened, Sarah felt the heat rising from his body under the flimsy silk of his shirt, and was suddenly very aware of how close to him she was standing. The atmosphere between them had become supercharged, almost crackling with sensuality.

Leaning his head as far away from her as the wall would allow, Jareth let out a shuddering sigh and looked down at her through half closed eyes.

‘Sarah, please...’ he whispered. ‘Before I do something we’ll both regret.’

She let go of his shirt, as though the fabric had bitten her.

‘You wouldn’t dare!’ Sarah breathed huskily, her cheeks flushed.

‘Wouldn’t I?’ He straightened his crumpled clothing, his eyes burning intensely.

‘What makes you so sure?’

She hurriedly backed away, the colour draining from her face, the sexual tension that had just passed between them had been unexpected, unwanted and frightening. And the way he’d looked at her just then... She swallowed nervously, and glanced fearfully at his face, but whatever fleeting expression Sarah thought she’d glimpsed had been replaced by his usual aloof mask. The dangerous moment had passed, yet she felt numbed by her actions.

What on earth had possessed her to push him against the wall like that?

She’d been playing with fire, and she knew it. She was trembling.

He tilted his head to one side and looked sideways at her, as if nothing had happened.

‘I came to tell you that I’ve arranged for a handmaiden to serve you. Her name is Sovay. If there is anything that you want, you are to ask her. She can be summoned by pulling this cord.’ He indicated a length of embroidered tapestry braid which hung near the door.

‘Fine, I’ll ask her to send me home.’

Jareth smiled sadly at her.

‘Alas, Sarah, her powers are not that great.’

She turned away from him, the reality of her situation hitting her as tears stung her eyes. He was playing with her.

‘You can’t keep me imprisoned forever, Jareth. I will find a way out, and I will go home.’ She whispered.

‘You aren’t imprisoned here, Sarah.’ He held out a large bronze key. ‘This is yours, you are free to roam the castle if you choose.’

Sarah made no move to take the key from him, so he let it drop. It hit the stone floor with a clatter.

‘As you wish.’ He turned to leave, appeared to remember something, and turned back, one finger raised to emphasise his point.

‘I would advise that you do not venture into the Labyrinth unaccompanied.’ He cautioned.

She didn’t respond.

‘I’ll arrange to have supper sent up to you.’ he added, as he left her room.

Jareth closed her door behind him, and leaned heavily against it. He had almost lost control, and the thought worried him. Sarah was more important to him than life itself, he couldn’t allow a lapse of concentration to ruin everything, the situation was almost irretrievable as it was. Perhaps he should stay away from her for a couple of days. A grim but determined look on his face, he slowly retreated down the hallway to his own apartments.

As his footsteps died away, Sarah picked up the key, turning it over and over to examine it. It was an old fashioned key, large and clumsy in her hands. She strode over to her door, and locked it soundly from the inside, making sure she left the key obstructing the lock before she returned to lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling. She took a deep breath and blew the air out slowly between her teeth, exasperated at her own warped logic. He had just given her the freedom of the castle, so she had decided to become a prisoner in her room.

Well so be it! She was not going to give him the satisfaction of showing her around, and she certainly wasn’t going to spend any longer in his company than absolutely necessary.

After a while, Sarah bacame aware of a soft knocking on her door. She groaned, why couldn’t he just leave her alone.

‘Go away, Jareth’ she shouted

‘I’m not King Jareth, milady’ a timid female voice called back through the door.

‘I’m Sovay. I’ve brought you some supper.’

‘I’m not hungry, please take it away!’ Sarah commanded. She was damned if she was ever going to trust faery food again.

‘As you wish, milady’ the voice called back, as the footsteps moved away.

Someone had actually obeyed her.

Sarah was astounded.

Sarah spent the next couple of hours desperately trying to think of a plan to escape. Jareth hadn’t kidnapped her for revenge, she knew that much from his earlier visit. The realisation that he had feelings for her that were more than friendly had not come as quite as much of a shock as she had expected.

She had perhaps always known this, deep down, ever since her last encounter with him, and that last desperate broken-hearted look on his face when she had said the words.

No, it was not Jareth’s feelings that she needed to be afraid of, it was her own traitorous feelings of attraction towards him. She had felt a dangerous thrill as he had leaned menacingly towards her, an edge of the seat feeling that she just didn’t get from Alan, no matter how sweet he was.

The Goblin King had had more of an effect on her than she cared to admit, and

Sarah was terrified.

Sarah awoke to find pale early morning light streaming in through her window, catching stray dust motes and giving her room an otherworldly feel. She sat up painfully, she had lain all night in her wedding dress, on top of the bed, which didn’t have the most comfortable mattress in the world. What was it stuffed with anyway?

Straw?

Probably.

Now what was she going to do? There was no water for her to wash, no hairbrush, no toothbrush, and no fresh clothes for her to change into. She had already detached the long train from her gown, folded it reverently, and laid it at the foot of her bed, she couldn’t move around in something so impractical. She caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror, she was definitely not a pretty sight this morning. There was nothing for it, she would have to ring for her maid, even if she did have the sneaking suspicion that she would be playing straight into Jareth’s hands by doing so.

She pulled the cord.

Eventually there came a timid knock, and Sarah unlocked the door to find a small kind faced fey girl, wearing a grey dress with a burgundy over-robe belted in at her waist. Her dark hair hung over her shoulder in a long plait, a few stray strands escaped to frame her face. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were a delicate blue, under finely upswept eyebrows.

She dropped to a deep curtsey as the door opened.

‘You called, milady?’

Sarah gestured for her to enter the room and closed the door behind her.

‘Sovay, isn’t it?’ Sarah asked.

‘Yes, milady’

‘Please call me Sarah’ Sarah smiled, ‘I am not used to being treated like royalty. Milady this, milady that, makes me uncomfortable.’

‘As you wish, milady Sarah.’

‘That’s a start,’ Sarah smiled encouragingly, the poor girl looked terrified, and no wonder, if she’d been on the receiving end of Jareth’s temper a few times.

‘Now, Sovay, Do you think you’d be able to arrange a bath for me?’

Sovay smiled shyly up at Sarah,

‘I’ve already filled your bath, ma’am, I was on my way to fetch you, when you rang. If you’d like to follow me’

‘Thank you.’ The grateful expression on Sarah’s face, made Sovay happy. She was a simple soul who loved to help people, and had been ecstatic last night when King Jareth had personally chosen her to become Sarah’s maid. Sarah’s visit had been arranged rather suddenly by their king, but his staff were used to his impulsiveness. It was no secret among the household staff that Sarah was someone special as far as Jareth was concerned, and Sovay was honoured to be trusted with such a prestigious position. She hoped that Sarah would come to like her enough to confide in her.

Sarah fell into step beside her maid, as she led her out of the room and down the narrow hallway. It was an internal corridor, with no windows, and the flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows over everything. Sarah looked about her in wonder. There were many arched doors leading off this hallway, and every door had a leering gargoyle carved into the lintel. The vaulted ceiling had it’s own menagerie of carvings, every structure seemed to be supported by some strange creature or demon. Runic inscriptions on delicately carved stone ribbon wove their way between the zoomorphic creations, and Sarah noticed an owl motif that cropped up at regular intervals in the decorations. Goblins scuttled past, occasionally stopping to openly stare at Sarah.

‘Don’t mind them, milady, they’re all curious about you.’ Sovay explained enigmatically, kicking them out of her way.

They had reached the end of the corridor, where it turned ninety degrees and widened out. Sovay opened a side door, and Sarah was surprised to see a narrow staircase leading down.

‘Service access’ Sovay smiled at her.

‘Come on, your bath will be getting cold.’ She said, as she hurried on down the stairs.

Below stairs was a hive of activity, and Sarah gasped in astonishment as Sovay led her through several rooms in succession, a huge washing room where servants were meticulously hand washing, dyeing or mending clothes, a dairy where butter was being made, a meat store, a preserves room, a wine cellar, and finally a huge kitchen, complete with roasting spits, and two long benches where a cook and two assistants appeared to be making bread. She had the sneaky suspicion that Sovay was leading her through here on purpose to show her off, as the staff all stopped what they were doing to curtsy, and gawp openly at her as she went by. Their attention was unnerving.

They passed through the kitchen and into a small room on the other side, which was homely in its simplicity.

There were two armchairs either side of a large fireplace, where a cheerful fire blazed. In front of the fire there was a tin bath filled with steaming hot water, and clean towels were arranged over the fireguard.

Sovay closed the door on the bustle behind them.

‘This is the housekeeper’s room. She said it was alright for you to bath in here.’ Sovay explained, pulling out a decorative screen, and arranging it between the bath and the door.

‘There, you should have privacy now, if anyone wanders in.’ She smiled.

‘Is there anything else I can do for you, milady?’

Sarah looked around. There was one important thing missing.

‘Sovay, do you think you’ll be able to arrange a change of clothes for me? I can’t exactly wander around in my wedding dress all the time.’

Sovay’s eyes widened.

‘That’s your wedding dress?’

Sarah nodded.

‘I should have been married yesterday, but Jareth had other plans for me.’ She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice, and her eyes threatened to fill with tears.

Sovay had an odd expression on her face, a mix of pity, envy, curiosity and anger.

‘I expect King Jareth has his reasons.’ Sovay emphasised Jareth’s title, carefully avoiding Sarah’s gaze.

‘King Jareth can go to hell, as far as I’m concerned.’ Sarah spat, ‘I’m going home as soon as I can figure out a way to get there.’ She ignored Sovay’s shocked expression. The girl’s innocent loyalty to Jareth was making her sick.

‘In the meantime, I would be grateful if you could find me some other clothes.’

Sarah softened her voice, and forced herself to smile. This wasn’t Sovay’s feud, and it was wrong of her to take her anger out on the maid.

‘Yes, milady.’

Sovay curtsied and fled the room, she couldn’t let Sarah see that her idealistic view of her King had been severely shaken. She’d had no idea that he had snatched Sarah against her will, even less idea that Sarah had been about to get married. Jareth had acted impulsively, the staff had received little warning that Sarah would be staying, so had not been able to prepare for her arrival, the poor girl didn’t even have a change of clothes.

For the first time in a lifetime of service to the King, Jareth’s actions had shocked and dismayed her, and she wasn’t certain how to react.

* * *

The tin bath was not long enough for Sarah to stretch her legs out, and she sat rather uncomfortably up to her waist in the water. The soap was rough and smelled awful, but it got her clean, and that was all that mattered. It had come as a complete surprise to her that Jareth had such a large household, but then, she hadn’t really spent very much time in the castle last time she was here, she’d been too preoccupied with saving Toby.

Sovay was a pleasant enough girl, if a little on the timid side, but Sarah had warmed to her immediately...

She ducked her head under the water, and proceeded to wash her hair.

‘Sovay? Sovaaay!’ An all too familiar voice called, and Sarah froze. Oh God, that was Jareth, and he was just outside the door by sounds of things. She slowly sunk down into the water, praying that he wouldn’t come looking in here.

‘I’m here, your Majesty’ Sovay’s voice sounded more timid than ever.

‘I want you to give this to Sarah with her breakfast.’ his voice was cold silk.

‘Yes, your Majesty.’

‘Well? Do you think she’ll like it?’ Jareth barked, impatient as ever.

‘Oh yes, sir, it’s beautiful.’

Sarah decided rebelliously that whatever ‘it’ was, she was definitely not going to like it.

‘Good. I’m counting on you to make Sarah’s stay here as comfortable as possible. If there are any problems you are to come straight to me, understand?’

‘Yes your Majesty.’

‘Do you have any questions, Sovay?’

‘Yes, Lord, How long will Sarah be staying?’

Jareth fixed Sovay with a gaze that immediately made her regret her hasty question.

‘I haven’t decided yet.’ He said archly, and strode off towards the kitchens.

Sarah seethed in silence as Sovay returned with fresh clothes. He might be King here but she had never been one of his subjects, and he had no right to play God with her life. How dare he!

She was damn well not going to play by his rules. She made her mind up there and then to give as good as she got. He would have to send her back when he found that she would not co-operate.

Sovay took one look at the thunderous expression on Sarah’s face, and flushed

guiltily, as she realised that Sarah must have overheard the entire conversation with Jareth. She decided to breeze through as though nothing was wrong.

‘I’ve found you a dress, milady, it belongs to one of the maids, she’s about your size, and she’s happy for you to borrow it until we can get you measured up for new clothes.’ She draped a bundle of black and green over the back of the chair.

‘I wouldn’t go to all that trouble, Sovay.’ Sarah hissed. ‘I am not going to be here long enough.’

The dress fitted Sarah perfectly, it was a simple peasant style, a floor length black underobe, with an overdress of forest green which fastened at the sides with laces, and belted in at the waist.

‘Oh, Milady, you look beautiful!’ Sovay gasped in delight. Sarah smiled at her, she really was a simple soul, and easily pleased.

‘Come through to the kitchen, I’ve made you breakfast.’

Sarah allowed herself to be led through to the kitchen, she was curious to see what Jareth had left for her. Her maid beamed at her, as she indicated a tray laden with fresh bread, home made preserves and fruit. There in the centre of the tray was a stem vase containing a single red rose, undoubtedly Jareth’s attempt to win her over.

Sarah scowled.

‘I’m not hungry.’ she said, as she fled back to her room.

Over the next few days, the castle settled back into it’s usual routine.

Jareth’s household buzzed with curiosity, but as none would approach the Goblin King directly, and he would not volunteer any information, the staff had to be content with the occasional snippets of gossip they heard from Sovay. At first, Sovay had enjoyed the attention, her position as Sarah’s maid had earned her a place at the top table in the servants quarters, along with all the privileges that went along with it - first use of the bathwater and the choicest morsels at the dinner table.

The novelty soon wore off, especially when some of the serving staff became jealous of Sovay’s new position, and started doing their best to make her life uncomfortable. Ever since the day when Jareth had ventured below stairs looking for her, Sovay had felt the need to watch her back. She had started hiding her few belongings for fear they would be rifled through, and had taken to leaving her bed completely stripped during the day - less opportunity for missing items to be conveniently hidden in her bedding. There were three kitchen maids in particular whom Sovay did not trust, they seemed determined to spite her, or show her up in front of the half fey, half goblin housekeeper, Miss Myrtle.

Miss Myrtle had been Jareth’s housekeeper ever since Sovay could remember. She was a sour faced woman, a legacy of her half blood rather than her disposition, her coarse white hair always scraped back into a tight bun, she never seemed to dress in any colour other than serviceable black. She ruled the female kitchen and chamber maids with an iron hand, and a fearsome reputation. Sovay had never been one of her favourites at the best of times, and her constant fault finding had increased tenfold since Sovay had become Sarah’s maid. Sovay also found her appearance under scrutiny, Miss Myrtle was under the impression that she should be immaculately turned out at all times now that she was practically a lady in waiting. Sovay was required to report to Miss Myrtle for her nails, hair and teeth to be inspected before she was allowed to leave the dormitory in the mornings.

Sarah was not making her job any easier either, she was difficult to draw into conversation, and made no secret of the fact that she preferred her own company.

Sarah hated everything about her new lifestyle, she would not let her maid help her to dress, or style her hair, she refused to have a fire set in her room so that Sovay could boil water for the washbasin.

She was deliberately being difficult, yet Sovay tried hard to keep a light-hearted outlook, and her constant cheerfulness and good nature grated on Sarah’s nerves, making her even more irritable and moody. Even though Sovay knew that Sarah’s petulance was not aimed at her, she had started to resent her mistress, Sarah’s contrary behaviour distressed her more than she would ever show. Much to Sarah’s distaste, Sovay remained totally loyal to her King, despite every slander that she tried to throw at his feet. As a result Sarah spent as little time in her maid’s company as possible, and Sovay felt that she had to go into battle every time she tried to do something for her mistress.

Sarah did not trust Sovay, after overhearing Jareth’s insensitive comments below stairs, she had become convinced that the girl was reporting everything back to the Goblin King. She could not have been further from the truth. In fact, Sovay hardly ever saw Jareth, she lived in a crowded servants dormitory in the rat-infested attic, under the watchful eye of Miss Myrtle. Jareth had ventured down to the kitchens once to give Sarah the rose, and that had been only time he had approached her. His appearance below stairs usually caused chaos amongst the staff, and he tended to avoid the place. Nonetheless, if Sovay even so much as mentioned his name, Sarah would start an endless tirade of how much she hated him, and how unfair he was being, he didn’t even having the courage to face her, and why did Sovay still serve him so faithfully, couldn’t she see how evil he was?

That afternoon, Sarah had even thrown Sovay out for talking about Jareth. She had tried to interest Sarah in the layout of the Castle, the window from Sarah’s room looked down over a small courtyard with a water pump at it’s centre, and an ornate archway which lead through to the stables and armoury. Sovay had merely started to point out various rooms in the jumble of gothic towers, including the King’s apartments, and Sarah had nearly bitten her head off.

‘Jareth this, Jareth that - I am heartily sick of hearing about Jareth. If you love him so much then why don’t you go and serve him!’

Sarah pushed the stunned maid out through the door and slammed it in her face, upsetting her so much that she ran blindly down the vaulted hallways, determined to escape her miserable existence. Even the most placid of people had a breaking point, and Sovay was dangerously close to the edge. She hardly knew where she was going, all she knew was that she had to get away. Fly away, fly, fly... Sovay’s pulse was racing and her breath was coming in short gasps, something inside her was stirring, alien emotions that had lain dormant until now.

She was powerless against this burning instinct to find her way outside, upwards and ever onwards to the vast open expanse of sky. Only there could she truly be free.

Scarcely aware of her surroundings, Sovay ducked in through another arched doorway, and started to climb the narrow spiral staircase that led to the to the top of the north tower.

Frantically she clawed at the door that led out to the roof, her hands didn’t seem to work properly, and she fumbled with the latch, her joints didn’t seem to fit together as they should. Finally she managed to open the door and stumble through, into the autumn sunlight. The heady exhilaration of flight gripped her, as half running, half stumbling precariously along the parapet, Sovay gave in to her awakening consciousness, the beast that had totally invaded her mind. She wanted nothing more than the freedom of flight, the calming caress of the wind beneath her wings.

Stretching out her wings to their full span, she launched herself from the very top of the tower.

Jareth just happened to be sitting on his balcony ledge, gazing out over the Labyrinth, when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up and blinked twice in surprise, there was a woman up there, running out of control along the highest parapet of the tower opposite, with no apparent regard for her personal safety.

‘No..’ he leapt to his feet, unable to take his eyes off the girl, recognition clouding his eyes, and a terrible fear churning his stomach.

‘Sovaaaaay!’ he screamed, watching in horror as she threw herself off, arms outstretched as though she could fly. With his heart in his mouth, Jareth hurled a levitation spell, hoping against hope that he hadn’t been too slow to catch her slight form.

The spell never reached her, the subtle transformation which had started as she ran along the parapet now took her completely. Sovay was no longer falling from the tower, in her place, a graceful black swan was gliding out across the labyrinth on powerful wings.

Severely shaken, Jareth cursed and changed to his owl form, launching himself from the ledge to follow at a discrete distance above and behind her.

Sovay flew for miles, throwing herself on the mercy of the elements, letting the wind carelessly toss her about like an autumn leaf. Flight was a new experience, and she had managed to stay airborne so far, but nothing could have prepared her for the strong currents of air that pulled at her or the sudden uprush when she hit a thermal. She was terrified. Everything that she knew, everything that she had taken for granted had suddenly been tipped on it’s head. She had no idea how she had metamorphosed into a bird.

A sudden frightening thought hit her - she had no idea how or when she was likely to change back. It wouldn’t be a good idea to change shape while she was flying.

‘No! Don’t even think that! Think bird shaped thoughts!’ her mind screamed at her. The world all looked so different from up here, which way was the castle? She craned her long neck left and right, fighting a rising panic as she realised that she couldn’t see it.

Jareth was having a hard time keeping up with her, Owls were built for moving stealthily from tree to tree, not for prolonged gliding at high altitudes. Nonetheless, he never took his eyes off her, it was obvious that she had never flown before, and he was starting to worry that she might get in to trouble. She was bound to tire easily on this first flight, she had no idea how to use the wind to her advantage.

Finally she spotted the castle, it was so far away! A small speck on the horizon, she’d had no idea that she’d flown so far. Keeping it firmly in her sight she veered around and headed back, struggling against the wind all the way, concentrating hard on a small patch of green lawn just beyond the kitchens, that looked as though it might provide a soft landing.

All at once the lawn was within reach, and she tried to aim for the centre.

Tired and out of control, she realised with horror that she was coming in to land too fast, the ground was rushing up towards her at an alarming rate.

Desperately she tried to gain height, but there was something wrong with her wings. Sovay screamed and closed her eyes.

She was clearly in trouble, and Jareth descended sharply, hoping that he could land in time to help her. He shifted gracefully at the last minute, so that as he set foot on the ground he was already transformed, and running towards her. Too late, he realised, as heard her scream and watched helplessly as she crashed into the ground in her human form.

Jareth’s blood ran cold as he reached her, and he cursed softly under his breath. She lay in a crumpled bloody heap, pale and deathly still.

Taking care not to move her lest he cause more damage, Jareth examined her carefully, relief flooding over him as he realised that she wasn’t badly hurt. Her clothing was torn, her arms and legs were grazed, and there were some nasty bruises, but nothing was broken. She had knocked herself unconscious on a jagged stone which jutted cruelly up from the grass, and blood streamed from a deep gash in her forehead. As far as Jareth could make out, this was her worst injury.

He removed his shirt, and tore it into strips, doing the best he could to cleanse the wound and apply a makeshift dressing, before he gently gathered her into his arms, and made his way towards the castle.

The closest entrance led through the kitchens, and Jareth headed for the door, the effect he would cause as he carried her through didn’t even cross his mind. Maids and servants dropped what they were doing to stare open mouthed as their king passed through, stripped to the waist, with the brutalised body of some poor wretch in his arms. Some stifled horrified cries as they recognised Sovay. Jareth glared at them.

‘Go back to work, all of you!’ he barked.

‘This is not your concern.’

Suddenly the kitchens were a hive of activity, as Fae and goblin alike bent industriously to their tasks, nobody wanted to dare Jareth’s wrath. Nonetheless, curious whispers ran through the assembled crowd, as each put forward their own theory of what might have happened to Sovay.

‘You and you, take some clean linen and make up the room next to Sarah’s’ At his stern command servants scurried to do his bidding, while Jareth looked around desperately for Miss Myrtle.

‘You, fetch some boiling water, you, find me a clean shirt, you, fetch my housekeeper, you, bring me a bottle of my finest brandy and two goblets.’

He continued to bark out commands as he strode towards the foot of the stairs, and met Miss Myrtle as she came rushing in from the dairy. She glanced disapprovingly at Sovay, and raised her eyebrows at Jareth’s state of undress.

‘Your Highness,’ she curtsied before him, ‘What has happened here, has Sovay inconvenienced you?’

Jareth gave her a cool stare.

‘This is not the place,’ he said, indicating the assembled staff, most of whom were trying incongruously to look as though they weren’t listening to his every word.

‘I’m having a room made up for Sovay. Follow me, we will talk there.’ He swept past and climbed up the back stairs, leaving her to follow on, with a small entourage of servants carrying the items he had asked for.

Jareth laid Sovay on the freshly made bed, and started to cleanse her wounds with the brandy.

‘You shouldn’t be doing this, your highness.’ Miss Myrtle pushed him aside, and took over the task with her usual efficiency.

He was happy to let her, the events of the afternoon were rapidly catching up with him, and he felt exhausted.

He pulled on his clean shirt, poured himself a large measure of brandy, and sank into a nearby chair, dismissing the remaining servants with a wave of his hand. He sipped the brandy slowly, allowing the warm glow to calm him, as he watched Miss Myrtle work.

He wondered if Sovay even knew how special her heartbeast was? How could she, when it was obvious that she had not realised until today that she possessed one. Her heartbeast marked her as a sensitive, and certainly one of the faery court. A black swan was a noble bird, possibly even the symbol of Royalty.

What on Earth was a member of the Fae nobility doing amongst his serving staff?

The kitchens were no place for one so delicate, no wonder his instincts had screamed at him that she belonged in court as Sarah’s lady in waiting. Jareth was determined to get to the bottom of this.

Eventually Miss Myrtle stood back, wiping her hands on her apron.

‘She’s going to have a monster of a headache when she wakes up.’ She smiled, looking sideways at the Goblin King.

‘What happened, your majesty?’ Miss Myrtle was responsible for the welfare of all the girls, and despite her stern demeanour, she was concerned about Sovay.

Jareth leaned forward slightly.

‘Did you know that Sovay has a heartbeast?’ he asked, looking directly at the housekeeper. She looked away.

‘Ah. That.’ Her voice was cold.

‘I was expecting something of the sort, she is about the right age for it to start, and that sort of thing has always been strong in her family.’

‘I see.’ Jareth took another sip of brandy, ‘You did know then.’

It was a statement, not a question. Jareth was keeping his voice carefully neutral, but inside he could feel his anger starting to rise.

‘When I chose her to be Sarah’s maid, you told me that her mother died in childbirth, and nobody knew who her father was.’ He glared at his housekeeper, who fidgeted uncomfortably. She didn’t like this unexpected turn in the conversation.

Jareth leaned forward. ‘Would you care to explain how you suddenly know so much about her family?’

‘Well, yes, I knew her mother quite well, and she confided in me about the girl’s father. It’s his family that she gets the beast from.’

Miss Myrtle dropped her gaze to the floor, she had said too much, she realised.

Whatever she chose to say now, she would compromise a friend. She knew Jareth too well to hope that he wouldn’t press the point.

‘So you’ve known all her life that this was likely to happen, and you never once thought to tell Sovay, so that she might be prepared for it?’ Jareth’s voice was frosty.

‘Sovay’s heartbeast is a black swan.’ he continued.

‘This afternoon she discovered how to fly, by launching herself from the top of the North tower. She could have killed herself.’

He was furious, yet he had barely raised his voice above a whisper.

‘Who is her father?’

Jareth levelled his gaze steadily at his housekeeper. This was the question she had been dreading, and she looked down at the ground, giving no reply.

‘I said, who is her father? Is he still around? Does he know that she exists?’

‘Please, your majesty, I promised her mother that I would never tell a soul.’

That was the last straw. Jareth stood up, towering over the terrified housekeeper.

‘How dare you defy me? I asked you a question.’ He had raised his voice ever so slightly, yet kept it soft enough not to disturb Sovay. Miss Myrtle backed away.

‘Who is her father?’ Jareth repeated, crossing his arms, and tapping one foot impatiently.

Miss Myrtle took one look at his furious expression and decided not to push her luck any further.

‘My lord, it was the old King, your father,’ she blurted.

Jareth caught his breath, and sat down suddenly.

He should have guessed, it was obvious when he thought about it, especially as his family were the only members of the Seelie Court for miles. He looked over at Sovay in wonder, she was his half-sister. All these years and he’d never known.

‘And you never thought to inform me that I had a sister?’ he asked lightly, his voice betraying none of the emotions that he felt..

‘No, my lord.’ The housekeeper kept her head bowed.

‘We thought it best that nobody knew. She is illegitimate, and a disgrace to your family.’

Jareth inhaled sharply, had he heard correctly?

'I beg your pardon?'

'My Lord, she is a disgr...' He raised his hand to silence the foolish old maid.

‘Get out,’ he hissed.

His powerful eyes bored into hers, and his expression was positively dangerous.

Miss Myrtle didn’t need to be told twice.

Jareth leaned back in the chair, let out a hugh sigh of frustration and gazed up at the ceiling, as he heard the door close quietly behind his housekeeper. Was he surrounded by fools?

Gradually he became aware of a soft sniffling coming from the bed, and glanced over. Sovay was awake, and she was crying, trying desperately not to be noticed.

‘It’s alright, Sovay,’ He soothed, as he poured out a measure of brandy, and carried it over to her.

‘Here, this will make you feel better.’ He handed her the goblet.

‘Sip it slowly.’ He advised.

She did so, hardly daring to look at him..

He glanced down at her, she was staring with red rimmed eyes into the depths of the goblet. Now that he had the chance to observe her more closely, the characteristics of her heartbeast were evident. She moved gracefully like a bird, and the midnight blackness of her hair had an almost feather like iridescence. Her eyes were the main give-away, Jareth could see the swan quite plainly now that he knew what he was looking for - just as anyone who watched his features closely would see the owl. He marvelled that he hadn’t noticed before.

‘How much did you hear?’ He asked gently.

She looked fearfully at him.

‘Everything.’ she whispered, her voice breaking.

‘So you know that you are my half sister?’

She nodded, not daring to look at him. It was all so much to take in, he had been her Lord for as long as she could remember. To suddenly find out that he was her brother, was so overwhelming, she didn’t know how to cope. He put his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder, grateful for the comfort. There were so many questions that she wanted to ask, so many riddles about her life that he might be able to answer. For now, though, she was content to just lean upon his shoulder, while the implications of her new relationship sunk in.

She was a disgrace! Miss Myrtle had said as much. King Jareth must be so ashamed to find out that she was his sister, a mere servant. And she felt so strange, acutely aware of the new birdlike presence in her mind that had lain dormant until today. Sovay’s confusion and isolation finally overcame her, and she broke down, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest.

‘It’s alright, Sovay, it’s alright. I understand.’ Jareth whispered awkwardly, squeezing her shoulders.

He was her brother. The fact repeated itself over and over in her mind, and she gazed fearfully up at him through her tears. How could he even bear to touch her after the shame she’d brought upon his family name?

He had made no attempt to punish her though, and a faint glimmer of hope stirred in her heart. Jareth understood, Jareth cared. He wasn’t quite the cold heartless creature that people made him out to be. He was her brother!

Nobody had comforted her like this since she was a small child, yet here in his arms she felt safe. It was a new feeling, and she was reluctant to let it go.

Knowing that the girl needed this release he rocked her gently, and stroked her hair, feeling awkward and completely helpless. He had never been good with wailing women.

Eventually she managed to gain control of herself, and stopped crying.

Jareth smiled down at her.

‘Do you know what this means, Sovay?’

‘No.’ she said timidly.

He grinned at her, ‘I am going to have to find a new maid for Sarah.’

That evening, Jareth sat alone at the ornate desk in his study, while chaos reigned supreme all around him. There were piles of paperwork, rough hand scribbled notes, books and scrolls stacked and strewn over every available surface. It was unusual for him to be so disorganised, yet he had allowed things to devolve rapidly this week, a symptom of his currently distracted state of mind. A low fire crackled in the hearth, and a single candle lit his table, while animated shadows bounced across the walls, emphasising the general disorder of the room. A large tome lay open in front of him, yet he had barely glanced at its contents, Sarah was invading his thoughts yet again.

Jareth respected Sarah’s sense of loss of her family, and (grudgingly) her fiancé, and had stuck to his determination to keep his distance for at least a week while she settled in. There had been occasions when he had found himself heading towards her room, but he had caught himself each time, and managed to walk on past. He had not even checked on her through the crystal since his near disastrous attempt to talk to her on the first day.

He had expected Sarah to be difficult, demanding and unreasonable. She had been furious with him and he’d been prepared for her to fight him every inch of the way. However, since she’d arrived Sarah hadn’t set foot outside her rooms, other than for her morning baths. She wasn’t taking the slightest interest in her surroundings, and Jareth was more than a little concerned. If she had been remotely herself, Sarah would be running the castle by now, he was certain, he had left plenty of instructions with his staff to indulge her every whim, yet she hadn’t taken advantage of any of the privileges available to her.

Her current depression and apathy had caught him completely off guard, and he wasn’t certain how to handle it. He could only hope that he had brought her here in time to reverse the greyness which had seized her spirit.

And now, after leaving her alone for a whole week, he couldn’t bring himself to go to her. He felt extremely foolish, he was not an adolescent, yet Sarah had the ability to reduce him to a quivering wreck. He had almost lost control once, there was too much at stake for him to risk that again. He sighed, head in hands.

On top of all this, Sovay’s revelation was posing all kinds of new problems for him. It was hard to accept that a blood relative had endured life below stairs for years without complaint. The girl was so timid she couldn’t look him in the eye without flinching; his own flesh and blood, yet a complete stranger to him. He fervently hoped that her spirit hadn’t been completely crushed by her years of servitude.

She would need to be strong to survive the world of courtly politics that she was about to enter.

He ran his hand across his face, and took a sip of his wine. What to do?

A glimmer of an idea formed in his mind, and he got to his feet. He should take some time to get to know Sovay. She had, after all, spent the best part of the week in Sarah’s company.

He would call on her this evening

to see how she was feeling after her ordeal.

* * *

Jareth knocked once, and entered Sovay’s room, not stopping to wait for her to admit him, he didn’t want her to clamber out of bed and have to cross the draughty stone floor. Her room was gloomy, and quite chill. The sole source of light was a single candle, which guttered in the draught from the door.

Jareth cast a critical eye around; this would never do.

‘Why is there no fire in this room?’ He asked. ‘I left specific instructions that you were to be made comfortable.’

Sovay sat bolt upright in the bed, panic creeping across her face.

‘Please, your majesty, nobody came to set the fire.’

‘Did you not think to ring for a maid?’ She shook her head, unable to speak.

Sudden understanding softened his features.

‘No, of course you wouldn’t, would you? It would be too difficult for you to ask.’

He turned on his heel and strode out of the chambers.

Sovay let out a huge sigh, and sank back down in her bed. He was so powerful, so commanding. How was she ever going to get used to this?

He returned a short while later with one of the kitchen maids in tow. Maryam, she recognised, one of the Fae girls who had been particularly spiteful to her. She shot Sovay a murderous look, before she set about preparing the hearth for a fire.

‘Your Majesty, there’s no need to go to all this trouble for me.’ Sovay smiled shyly. ‘I could have set the fire myself’

‘Absolutely not!’ Jareth would hear none of it.

‘Your days as a servant are over, Sovay. Furthermore, that is the last time I ever want to hear you call me ‘your majesty’. You are to call me Jareth in future. My family all call me by my given name.’

There came a loud clatter from the hearth as Jareth emphasised the word ‘family’. He glanced around, but the maid appeared to be engrossed in her work.

‘How are you feeling after your ordeal?’ he continued.

‘I...’ She began, then stopped, dumbfounded as Jareth lifted her chin with his gloved hand to examine her face.

‘That is quite a nasty injury.’ He observed. ‘We’ll have to watch for infection.’

There came another loud clatter, and Jareth looked around, clearly irritated.

The fire was just taking hold.

‘Thank you, Maryam. You may leave us.’ He snapped.

The girl hurriedly got to her feet, gave Sovay another evil glare, and scuttled out through the door.

Jareth rolled his eyes.

‘Oh dear. It appears that some of the staff are jealous of your new status. If you have any trouble you are to tell me straight away. Understand?’

Sovay nodded, eyes wide, but said nothing, she was too overwhelmed.

Jareth pulled up an armchair, and made himself comfortable.

‘You had quite a shock today, didn’t you?’ He said. ‘I remember how I felt when I first discovered my heartbeast. I was about your age, but of course, I knew what to expect. There’s no telling what manner of creature might manifest, though, until it finally makes an appearance. A black swan is extremely rare, you should be proud.’

Sovay frowned, she could feel the bird in her head, as it peered out at the world through alien eyes, yet he made it sound as though it was perfectly normal.

‘I can’t get used to the fragmented presence in my mind. I feel as though I’m some kind of freak.’

Concerned by her reactions, Jareth kept his voice as gentle as he could.

‘Dear girl, you are definitely not a freak. You will soon come to understand that presence, eventually you will rely on it for what it is, a reflection of your true self. Your heartbeast is a rare gift, which sets you far above most of the Fae. Did you not know?’

Sovay shook her head.

‘Believe me, a black swan is highly prized amongst the gentry. Even if you had not turned out to be family, I would still have pulled you out of the kitchens. You belong among the host of the Seelie court, not scrubbing floors belowstairs in some dingy workroom.’

‘If you say so, your majesty.’ She smiled timidly.

‘Jareth’ he corrected.

She looked up at him. ‘Jareth.’ she whispered softly. It felt so strange to actually call him by his name. ‘Jareth.’ she repeated, louder this time. He rewarded her with his beautiful smile.

‘I know, it’s going to take some getting used to.’ He said. ‘It’s strange for me as well, although it is nice to have some intelligent company around the place.’

Sovay smiled. ‘What about Sarah?’ she asked.

Jareth was silent. He stared at the floor.

Sovay fidgeted uncomfortably with the bedclothes, she had obviously hit a nerve.

Eventually he spoke in a voice so quiet that Sovay had to strain to hear.

‘Sarah hates me, and with good reason. She will never look at me as anything other than a monster, and I should never have brought her here. I deeply regret the whole sorry state of affairs’

He looked up, and Sovay caught her breath, there was such a forlorn expression on his face. Her heart went out to him.

‘Then why did you bring her here?’ She asked gently.

Jareth sighed.

‘Because I’m a fool who doesn’t know when to stop meddling. Sarah was about to marry someone who was so totally unsuitable for her, he would have destroyed her within a year.’

He gazed at her with torment behind his eyes.

‘I love Sarah, deeply. I couldn’t bear to watch that happen.’

Sovay stared at him in shock. Before today it would have been unthinkable for him to talk to her as an equal, let alone spill his heart out to her like this. The Goblin King had always seemed so cold, impersonal, distant.

She’d had no idea that he was so miserable, so lonely.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’ she said, and looked away from him.

‘You didn’t pry, Sovay. I am merely confirming what most of my household has been gossiping about all week.’

The startled look on her face made him laugh aloud.

‘You’ll soon learn that there’s not much that escapes me,’ he told her, a wicked gleam in his eye. It was gone too soon, to be replaced once again by his forlorn expression.

Sovay looked thoughtful.

‘You should talk to her.’ she said softly.

Now it was Jareth’s turn to look up in surprise. Sovay nodded.

‘You haven’t even tried, have you?’ she continued, amazed at herself.

‘I...’ Jareth shrugged, holding his hands palms up. ‘What would I say? She won’t listen to me.’

‘Maybe she won’t at first. Especially as you’ve completely alienated her... You’ll just have to persevere.’

Sovay hid her nervousness with a smile, as a truth about the Goblin King suddenly dawned on her.

‘You’ve never had to court someone, have you?’ she asked timidly.

‘I’ve had lovers before...’ he sounded indignant.

‘I’m sure you have. There are plenty of women who will happily throw themselves at powerful men, no doubt you’ve had your fair share.’

Sovay paused, she couldn’t quite believe that she’d just said that. She’d managed to gain his complete attention, and judging by his expression she was now in dangerous territory.

‘Please continue,’ he said icily.

She took a deep breath and ploughed on.

‘It’s easy for you to take a lover. What I’m trying to say is that you’ve never had to win somebody’s heart.’

‘Win somebody’s heart? You make it sound like some kind of game!’

‘And so it is. A treacherous game where the rules are inconsistent and subject to change without warning. Much like your Labyrinth.’

Had she completely lost her mind? What in the Underground had possessed her to say such a thing? He would be furious for sure. She cringed inside, and dropped her gaze, cheeks aflame.

She could almost feel the heat of his glare.

Jareth said nothing for a long while. The crackling of the fire filled the room, until the tension became unbearable.

Sovay looked up timidly to find him gazing intently at her.

‘How would I win Sarah’s heart?’ he asked softly.

Sovay smiled at his hopeful expression.

‘You should start by talking to her. It’s been almost a week, and you’ve made no attempt to explain your actions.’

Jareth knew that Sovay spoke the truth, yet the prospect of facing Sarah again filled him with dread.

‘You haven’t even offered to show her around the castle, have you?’

He shook his head.

Sovay sighed.

‘Look at it from Sarah’s point of view. You’ve dragged her away from her wedding, dumped her here, then ignored her for a week. She doesn’t understand that you love her, she thinks that you’ve done this out of spite.’

‘I thought I would give her some time to adjust.’ He explained, wretchedly, realising that Sovay was right, and he had in fact made the situation far worse through his own inaction.

Sovay shook her head slightly.

‘Go to her, Jareth, talk to her.’ she urged. ‘The longer you delay, the less likely you are to have any kind of relationship to salvage.’

Surprised at her easy use of his name, he looked up. Her face was full of concern. She had accepted him as her brother, he realised, and she cared. He briefly squeezed her hand.

‘Thank you, Sovay. I shall go immediately. Wish me luck.’

He got to his feet, turned and strode out of the room.

Sovay leaned back against the pillows and sighed. She was trembling.

'Good luck, Jareth.' she whispered. 'You're going to need it!'

* * *

Jareth stood outside Sarah’s rooms, emotions in turmoil. Sovay’s words echoed loudly around his mind, taunting him;

‘You’ve never had to win somebody’s heart.’

Her words had affected him more than she would ever know. He was the King of the

Goblins, Keeper of the Labyrinth, Lord of the Underground, and yet he didn’t know how to achieve something which the ordinary folk of his realm seemed to take for granted.

He felt nervous.

Nervous! Such an alien emotion. He had no idea how to deal with these feelings.

What the hell was the matter with him?

He tentatively raised a gloved hand to knock, then paused, hand hovering mid-air. There were no sounds from within. It was late, past midnight, this was perhaps not the best time to call. Lowering his hand, he backed away. It might be better if he returned in the morning.

‘The longer you delay, the less likely you are to have any kind of relationship to salvage.’ Sovay’s voice echoed in his mind.

Torn between getting this over with, and bolting for the safety of his chambers, Jareth stood motionless outside the door. Even the gargoyle over the lintel seemed to be mocking him. Why was this so difficult?

‘Because you’ve left it so long.’ the voice in his head admonished.

With a heavy heart, Jareth knocked once, then waited, resigned to his fate.

There was no response. He tried the door handle.

It was locked.

Jareth smiled grimly to himself, did Sarah really think that she could keep him out of his own castle rooms so easily? He made himself insubstantial and walked straight through the solid door.

The room was dark and cold, no fire, no candle.

This did not cause any problem for Jareth, he could see perfectly well at night.

He glanced cautiously around the room.

Sarah lay facing the wall, fully clothed on top of the covers of the single cot bed, her hair a tangled mess about her shoulders. Even in anguish she was still beautiful, Jareth felt his heart beating erratically as he approached her.

‘Sarah?’ He whispered, kneeling by her bedside.

No response.

‘Sarah?’ He raised his voice, but still she gave no indication that she had heard him.

There was an air of tragedy about her which made him want to draw her close, to comfort her. He reached out to lightly touch her shoulder.

Sarah awoke with a start.

‘Who’s there?’ she demanded. She sat up abruptly, and peered fearfully around, unable to see anything in the pitch black room.

‘Relax, Sarah. There’s nothing to fear.’ Jareth soothed as he lit the candle by her bedside.

Sarah yelped in terror and backed away as a ghostly face loomed out of the darkness at her, lit from beneath by flickering candlelight, it’s features emphasised and distorted - a frightening visage. It took her several seconds to recognise Jareth. She pressed herself into the cold wall, unable to withdraw any further, her face a mask of fear. What did he want with her at this hour? Was he about to molest her? Worse?

She swallowed, her throat unnaturally dry.

He tilted his head slightly, smiled and held his hand out to her.

‘Sarah, get up, we need to talk.’

‘Get out!’ she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. She knocked his hand away, viciously.

‘I have nothing to say to you.’

Jareth closed his eyes briefly, he had known what her reaction was likely to be, so why did this hurt so much?

‘Hear me out, Sarah. I need you to know why I brought you here.’ His eyes pleaded silently for her to listen to him.

‘Oh fine!’ Sarah rounded on him.

‘You snatched me without so much as a ‘By your leave’, dragged me here against my will, and left me to rot in some vile medieval room.’ She paused.

‘You didn’t even have the decency to arrange any spare clothing. I’ve been wearing someone else’s dress for a week because the only alternative is to wear my wedding dress, and it upsets me too much to wear that. Not that you would understand, as you obviously didn't give a damn about my feelings when you abducted me in the first place.’

She glared pointedly at him.

‘And now, after avoiding me all week, you finally decide that you want to talk, in the middle of the night, for crying out loud!’ ‘No doubt you expect me to calmly accept whatever reasons you’ve invented to cover the fact that you are jealous of my fiancé. Did it take you a whole week to think of something? Because you’ve wasted your time. I couldn’t care less.’ she spat. ‘Now please leave me alone.’

Jareth sat on his heels and looked unhappily at her. How was he ever going to convince her that he had acted in her best interests? He didn’t expect her to forgive him, although he was hoping to reach a point where she might at least listen to what he had to say. He needed a distraction.

‘Come, Sarah, let me show you something...’

Taking her by surprise, he caught hold of her upper arm, pulled her off the bed and swung her to her feet, in the process knocking the candle to the floor and plunging the room into darkness.

Sarah screamed.

She hit out at him, feeling immense satisfaction as her fist connected with soft flesh.

‘Get your hands off me! I hate you! Leave me alone!’

She was hysterical, tears streamed down her face, as she became convinced that he was going to rape her.

Frantically she twisted against his vice-like grip, desperate to escape.

Jareth braved the onslaught, as she scratched, kicked and clawed at him in her efforts to break free. She raked her nails furiously across his face, still he did not release his hold on her.

‘Sarah calm down!’ he raised his voice.

‘Sarah!’ He shook her once, gently.

She gazed up at him with cold eyes, her tearstained face devoid of all expression.

‘I don’t care anymore. Do with me what you will. Just get it over with.’

Jareth was mortified. Did she really believe that he was capable of such a foul act?

He gazed at her, eyes full of concern.

‘You have no reason to fear me, Sarah.’ he said softly.

‘I want to talk, nothing more.’ He guided her across to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes.

‘Look, is it not magical?’

The gothic towers of the castle were bathed in silver from the crystalline moon which hung low in the starry sky. And such stars! Sarah stared in awe, there was no light pollution to mar their beauty, as they shone their glorious cold light onto an enchanted land. Sarah shivered slightly.

She glanced up at Jareth.

Oh God, he was looking at her with those eyes. Those extraordinary magical eyes, glinting in the moonlight. He hadn’t taken his arm from her shoulder, she realised, all too aware of his beauty in the silvery light.

His cheek bore three deep scratches, still oozing blood, where her nails had scored his face.

Sarah shuddered and tore her gaze away, butterflies in her stomach, as once again, unwanted feelings of attraction towards Jareth reared their ugly head. She felt ashamed of herself, had she forgotten Alan so soon?

She smacked Jareth’s arm away from her shoulders, and glared up at him defiantly.

‘Please Jareth, you’ve had your fun. Why won’t you send me home?’

The expression on his face was unfathomable in the moonlight, yet there was an air of defeat about him, a slight droop to the shoulders that reminded Sarah of the time they had met in the Escher room.

‘If you were to return home now, you would run straight back to that fop you were about to marry. He will hurt you, Sarah. In time, he will destroy you.’ His voice faltered.

‘I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.’

Sarah turned on him.

‘I suggest you close your eyes, Jareth, If you can’t bear to see me hurting!

Nothing that Alan could do to me would ever compare to the pain that I’ve been through this week because of you!’ She snarled.

‘Now please leave me alone.’

‘Sarah...’

‘Leave!’ She crossed the room, unlocked the door, and stood holding it open with her foot, arms folded across her chest.

Jareth walked reluctantly across the room, stopping just short of the door to look longingly at Sarah with sad eyes.

She returned his gaze with a cold stare, then looked pointedly out towards the torchlit hallway.

‘Goodnight Sarah.’ he whispered.

‘Sweet dreams.’

Sarah slammed the door behind him with a resounding crash.

* * *

Sovay heard the door crash, heard Jareth’s lonely footsteps echo down the corridor towards his apartments. She opened her door a tiny crack, and peered out, watching his progress down the hall.

He looked so dejected. She guessed that Sarah must have sent him away. Her heart ached for him, yet she knew that there was not much she could do to help, Jareth had to sort this mess out for himself.

‘Don’t hate him, Sarah.’ she whispered sadly, returning to her bed.

‘He loves you so much.’

Sleep eluded Sarah that night, she found herself haunted by Jareth every time she closed her eyes. She couldpicture his face as clearly as if he were in the room, the way the silvery moonlight caught the highlights in hishair as he gazed sadly at her.

Deep in her heart, part of her desperately wanted to believe in Jareth, that part of her that had never let go of the fantasy, the romance. It was, after all, the ultimate fantasy to be rescued by your knight in shining armour just as you were about to marry the evil prince.

She groaned, twisting beneath the rough blankets. Alan was hardly an evil prince, and Jareth was certainly nogallant knight.

Nonetheless, his words echoed in her mind...

‘He will hurt you, Sarah, in time he will destroy you. I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.’

She remembered the torment in his eyes.

Could he really have been speaking the truth when he told her that Alan was no good for her?

No!

Her mind screamed in denial, Jareth didn’t care for her, he wanted revenge, he was using her for his own cruel pleasure.

If that was the case, why had he waited so long to bring her here, when he obviously had the power to drag her back whenever he wished.

Why had he waited until now?

He had looked so...

so...

so hurt.

So what! Why did that bother her?

She sighed, in exasperation.

It didn’t! Of course it didn’t.

She couldn’t allow herself to feel any compassion for Jareth.

Sarah’s thoughts turned to home, and she wondered what Alan and her parents were doing now. It had been a week, they must have reported her missing to the police. There would have been some kind of investigation, Jareth’s description had probably been circulated across the states, no doubt he was wanted for questioning regarding her disappearance. Even now they were likely to be dredging the river and combing the woods for signs of her body. How she wished that she could reassure them somehow that she was alright, there was no need to worry.

Fresh tears threatened to fall as she thought of her family, and Sarah brushed them angrily away.

She would not be weak! She would beat this!

She had defeated the Goblin King before, she could do it again.

The bed covers were scratchy and rough against her skin, making her toss and turn uncomfortably. Eventually, too upset to sleep, she got up and stood at the window watching the stars.

Jareth had been right, they truly were breathtaking.

Magical.

Like Jareth’s eyes.

‘No, no no no no!’ She recoiled from the thought.

Why couldn’t she get him out of her mind? Her thoughts kept jumping back to the words he had said at her wedding.

‘You see, Sarah loves me. She always has.’

‘I don’t!’ she cried in anguish.

‘I don’t love you, Jareth. Get out of my head!’

Sarah collapsed in anguish on the bed, fists slamming into the pillow in frustration.

Eventually she sank into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Magic was loose, Jareth could taste it in the air, the background magic of his realm streaming into the night.

There was a hint of frost in the air, the first sign that Winter was approaching. He shivered slightly and pulled his cloak closer around him. For miles he had walked through his Labyrinth, enjoying the peace of the night and his solitude, needing to regain the equilibrium that had been sorely missing from his life over the past few days.

Eventually he reached the hills beyond, and turned to survey his realm, his heart aching with the sheer beauty that lay before him. The moon gave his world an eerie blue-silver glow, and the stars glittered brightly in the cool air. The silence was deafening.

This was the exact place overlooking the Labyrinth where he had first brought Sarah, all those years ago. She had been so pure, so innocent, and so determined to defeat him. He smiled bitterly at the memory.

What was it about Sarah that captivated him so? How was it possible for a mortal to capture the heart of a Fae so completely?

There were many legends which warned of the dangers of becoming involved with humankind, the Seelie court called such unions ‘entrapments’. Jareth had always held such stories in contempt, finding it hard to comprehend how an intelligent Fae could possibly allow itself to become ‘entrapped’.

Yet Sarah was different, she was unlike any other mortal that Jareth had ever encountered, he felt completely powerless against her charms. She need only say the word, and he would indeed become her slave.

From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he had known that she was special. He had even felt something akin to love for her when they had danced together in the ballroom, so long ago. It had taken him a long time to recover from the deep sense of loss he had felt when she had rejected his offer, nonetheless, he had let her go.

Those distant emotions were as nothing compared to the way he felt about her now; he loved her completely and selflessly, worshipped her with his entire being. The intensity of his feelings continually surprised him, never before had he experienced such a deep undying love.

He knew only that having her so close, yet so distant, was tearing him apart.

Finally, sorrowfully, Jareth understood entrapment.

* * *

Sovay awoke late, and panicked as she saw how high the sun had reached; she should have been up hours ago, Miss Myrtle would...

What, exactly, would Miss Myrtle do?

A slow smile broke across her face, as she realised that the mean old housekeeper could not order her about any more. Sovay’s time was her own, and she could get up when she pleased.

She attempted to rise, groaning as her body protesting violently at the abuse, aching from head to toe.

Memories of her escapade came flooding back, flying was obviously something she needed to practise to get her unworked muscles into shape, it even hurt to breath.

Nonetheless, she was not the type to lounge in bed, and she was anxious to talk to Sarah, she had a feeling that there were ruffled feathers to be soothed.

Sovay caught sight of herself in the vanity and gasped in horror, unable to draw her eyes away from the ugly bruise which had spread from the gash across her forehead. No wonder Jareth had been so concerned. She unbound her hair and let it hang down to cover the side of her face, hiding the wound the best she could before she set off down the hall to call on Sarah.

* * *

‘If that’s you, Jareth, you can get lost!’ Sarah shouted through the locked door, making

Sovay cringe; last night had obviously gone as predicted. She shook her head sadly.

‘It’s Sovay, milady.’

Sarah sighed. Was there no peace in this wretched place?

‘Please, Sarah, may I talk to you?’

Sovay sounded worried. No doubt she had heard about the argument last night and wanted the gossip, nonetheless, Sarah couldn’t find it in her heart to send her away. She unlocked the door, stood aside and allowed the girl to enter, watching her curiously. Sovay was usually immaculately dressed, yet today she looked dishevelled, and her hair was unbound. In the week that Sarah had known her, she had never seen her with her hair down.

There was something terribly wrong here, the girl was moving oddly, from the way she was hunching her shoulders, she seemed to be in a lot of pain.

In two steps Sarah had crossed the room, and swept Sovay’s hair back from her face, gasping in shock at the ugly wound.

‘Dear God, Sovay. What on Earth happened to you?’ Sarah’s voice was full of concern.

Suddenly a terrible fear gripped her stomach. She narrowed her eyes.

Had Jareth abused the girl? Had he taken his anger and frustration out on Sovay, because she, Sarah, had refused to talk to him?

Sovay placed a reassuring hand on Sarah’s arm.

‘I fell over, and hit my head. Don’t worry, it’s not as painful as it looks.’

She couldn’t bring herself to explain about her heartbeast. Not yet.

Sarah rolled her eyes. One of Karyn’s friends had been a battered wife, her excuses had been equally pathetic.

‘Why are you trying to protect him, Sovay?’ she asked, hatred in her voice.

‘Protect who?’ Sovay looked confused, her pale blue eyes gazing up at Sarah in puzzlement.

Sarah gently brushed a few stray strands of dark hair from Sovay’s face.

‘I’m not a fool, Sovay. I know Jareth has a violent temper.’

Sovay’s eyes grew round with shock.

‘Jareth didn’t do this!’ Her hands flew to her face, and her eyes grew wide with horror.

‘You must believe me, Sarah. Jareth helped me when I fell. He carried me home.

He would never hurt anybody, not like this.’

Sovay’s reaction seemed genuine enough, and yet Sarah felt uneasy. There was something the girl wasn’t telling her, she could feel it.

‘As long as you aren’t just saying that because you’re afraid of what else he might do to you.’

Sarah wanted to be absolutely sure that Sovay was not speaking out of fear. To her relief Sovay showed no sign of guilt or nervousness.

‘What kind of a monster do you take me for, Sarah?’ Jareth’s voice came from the door, low and furious, making both girls jump.

‘How would I know? You’ve always done your damnedest to intimidate people!’ Sarah whirled around, glaring at him.

‘I would never strike a woman, Sarah,’ he spoke quietly, yet the anger was still audible in his voice.

As he turned his head, Sovay caught sight of the scratches on Jareth’s face, stark against his pallid skin.

She gasped.

‘You are the one who hurts people!’ She said coldly, shoving Sarah away.

‘Hey! That’s none of your business!’ Sarah took a step towards Sovay, anger clouding her features.

Jareth raised a shocked eyebrow at his half-sister, and shook his head slightly, stepping calmly between the two bristling women to place an arm around Sovay’s shoulders.

‘What are you doing out of bed, Sovay? You are obviously not well enough to be up,’ he said, looking meaningfully at her.

‘Go back to your room, and I’ll speak to you later.’ He said gently.

Sovay looked ashamed, she felt extremely protective of Jareth, he had been the first person for years to show any kindness to her, however, the last thing she wanted to do was make an enemy of Sarah. She had spoken without thinking.

Briefly, she squeezed Sarah’s hand, mouthed an apology then fled for safety.

Jareth might have spoken kindly to her, but she knew him well enough to understand the anger that had flashed in his eyes...

Jareth turned, smiling slightly at Sarah’s bemused expression.

‘Sovay has had a difficult time lately,’ He explained enigmatically. ‘She has a lot to come to terms with at the moment, don’t be too quick to judge her.’

‘Oh really. And I haven’t got a lot to come to terms with?’ She glared.

Jareth sighed. ‘I didn’t come here today to argue with you, Sarah.’

‘What do you want then?’ Sarah looked sullenly at him.

‘I was hoping you might like a change of scenery. You haven’t set foot outside these rooms since you arrived.

It’s not healthy to confine yourself like this.’ She held his gaze.

‘I’ve seen enough of your Labyrinth to last me a lifetime, thank you.’

‘I wasn’t talking about the Labyrinth. Let me show you around the Castle, I think you might be pleasantly surprised.’ He smiled, holding his arm out to escort her.

Sarah looked warily at him, uneasy with his friendly manner. She was getting stir-crazy in the room though, and this might while away a few hours. What harm could come from looking around?

Jareth’s heart soared as she gingerly put her hand over his outstretched arm.

‘Very well.’ She said, in a tight voice. ‘Show me around.’

* * *

Sarah felt very strange walking next to Jareth, with her hand on his arm. She was doing her best to bury the animosity which she felt towards him, as he was obviously trying equally hard to be chivalrous. Nonetheless, an uneasy silence had fallen between them, so that the only sounds were the rustling of Sarah’s skirts and the click of Jareth’s boots on the stone floor. He exuded power and regal grace with every step, an absolute feeling of control which made Sarah nervous. Stealing the occasional glance at him, she noted that he looked tired, there were shadows under his eyes, and his skin seemed sallow. Perhaps he had not slept either, she mused.

The castle was every bit as majestic as Sarah had expected, she soon lost count of the number of grand rooms that she was led through. Flagstone floors, vaulted ceilings, leering gargoyles and elaborately carved wooden panelling were the order of the day, with variations on the goblin and owl motifs in each room.

There was an air of decay about the place, however, a feeling of neglect in some of the rooms, despite their grandiose decor. On closer inspection, Sarah’s sharp eyes picked out the worn threads and faded colours on the tapestries, the layers of dust and cobwebs that coated the out of reach shelves and corners.

The hallways, and most of the rooms were dimly lit with torches; being a defensive structure first and foremost, the castle had very few windows on the outside walls. Most of the light was provided from arrow slits, or the occasional window which opened onto the internal courtyard.

Goblins scurried this way and that, movements in the shadows that set Sarah’s nerve freshly on edge. The place gave her the creeps, there was no denying it.

She drew closer to Jareth, and tightened her grip on his arm, hardly aware of her actions.

He smiled to himself, it was a small gesture, yet maybe it signalled that she trusted him more that she thought.

Perhaps later, she might allow him to put his arm around her? Perhaps...

The library in particular captured Sarah’s imagination. It was a circular room with a sunken floor, bookshelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling. Sarah immediately felt at home there, and could have easily stayed all afternoon just browsing through the books. Jareth had other plans, however.

‘I know you will like this next room, Sarah.’

He pointed to a low archway leading out of the library, where a narrow stone spiral staircase led upwards. It was only wide enough for one person to climb at a time, and he gestured for Sarah to lead the way. The stairs were dingy, and Sarah found the climb difficult in her long skirts, stumbling several times to graze her hands on the rough stone walls. They passed several doors on the way up the tower, but Jareth indicated that they should continue their climb.

Sarah choked back a rising feeling of panic, she wouldn’t be able to escape easily from this tower, these stairs were treacherous. Just how far up did they go? She was just about to turn and ask, when she rounded the last spiral and reached another archway, leading into the most amazing room that Sarah had ever seen.

She looked about in wonder, turning in a full circle to catch the full effect.

‘This is the Solar.’ Jareth’s voice came from behind her.

It was beautiful. A light, airy circular room with a central sunken floor, surrounded by stone pillars which supported a gothic vaulted roof. The walls and the roof itself seemed to be entirely constructed from crystal, which glittered in the morning sun, reflecting the spectrum of light in dazzling patterns on the floor and pillars, and providing breathtaking views across the Labyrinth to the lands beyond.

There was very little furniture here, a comfortable looking chair, a desk, a few scattered books. Nonetheless, Sarah got the impression that this room was well lived in.

‘I spend a lot of time here.’ Jareth echoed her thoughts.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Sarah whispered, overawed.

‘No.’ He gazed down at her.

‘I’m looking at true beauty. Everything else is merely glamour.’

Sarah caught her breath, suddenly feeling trapped beneath his gaze. She looked about her wildly for an escape route.

Jareth took her hand, and pressed it gently to his lips.

‘Sarah...’ he whispered, ‘You have no idea how much...’

‘No!’ Sarah snatched her hand away, stalking across the room to glare out across the labyrinth.

...this means to me.’ Jareth finished forlornly.

She turned, raising an eyebrow.

‘I have never brought anyone here before.’ Jareth explained.

‘Even the goblins are not allowed up here. The staff know not to disturb me in this room, unless there is a dire emergency.’

Sarah turned back to the view, her nerves screaming at her to get out, to run.

She felt trapped, yet she could not leave, not yet; she had spent so long confined to her dingy little room, that the light and beauty of the solar held her captivated.

‘Are you hungry?’ Jareth interrupted her thoughts.

She nodded.

‘Wait here. I’ll arrange for lunch to be sent up.’ He disappeared through the archway.

Sarah relaxed. This was the longest she had ever spent in his company, and she had been wary and on edge all morning. Now that he had left, she could at last calm her frayed nerves.

Moving away from the crystal wall, her eyes swept the room, giving everything a closer look, aware that this private sanctuary was a side of Jareth that few people would ever see. She was curious, despite herself, her attention drawn to the desk which appeared to be strewn with papers and scribbled notes.

There were books written in a foreign script, and sketchbooks, which mainly contained designs for modifications to the Labyrinth, nothing of real importance. One sketchbook fell

open at a well thumbed page, Sarah gasped to see a crude pencil drawing of herself, dressed as she had been at the ball. Beneath it, a caption which tugged at her heart.

‘Sarah, I die a little each day without you.’

She closed the book and put it to one side as an uneasy feeling washed over her.

She was prying into Jareth’s personal thoughts, and while it was very flattering to know how he felt about her, she wished that she hadn’t made the discovery. She resented the fact that he had bared his soul to the book, and moved her almost to tears with just one simple sentence.

Just as she was about to move away, an envelope caught her eye, it bore an elaborate seal, which had been broken, and it lay half forgotten under a pile of books. It was addressed to ‘Jareth, Lord Protector of the Underground.’ in a swirling copperplate handwriting.

Sarah couldn’t resist, she pulled it out, unfortunately knocking over a full pot of ink as she did so. It splattered everywhere, onto the letter, the books, the papers.

‘Damn it!’ she swore under her breath, as panic seized her. Jareth would be absolutely furious, she had no business prying into his affairs. Desperately she did the best she could to mop up the ink using her skirts but the heavy material only managed to smear the ink around even more. She used a piece of card to scoop the liquid off the edge of the desk and onto the floor, finally drying the worst of the ink with her sleeves. Her hands were covered, she had left a stick trail of damning inky fingerprints over everything that she had touched. Glancing down at the letter she saw that it had been almost completely obliterated, the only line still readable was the greeting;

‘Dearest Husband...’

Shock ripped through Sarah, and she dropped the letter as though the paper had been on fire. She felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach.

Jareth had a wife? Jareth had a WIFE?

She staggered backwards, hyperventilating, tears welling up in her eyes.

This couldn’t be. He couldn’t be married.

Unwelcome feelings tore at her heart, jealousy, hatred, love. He couldn’t belong to anyone else, he was hers!

He had written down how much he loved her, hadn’t he?

He had told her that he’d stopped her from marrying Alan because he couldn’t bear to see her get hurt.

He loved her!

She reeled and swayed on her feet, feeling as though she might faint, when suddenly two strong arms caught her from behind.

‘Sarah, are you feeling alright?’ Jareth’s voice was full of concern.

She pulled away from his grasp, and turned on him, absolutely livid.

‘Spare me the concern, Jareth!’ she spat.

‘Save it for your wife!’

Before he could stop her, Sarah had taken off across the room and disappeared through the archway.

Stunned, Jareth glanced around at the spilled ink, the opened letter. He cursed vehemently, sighed and closed his eyes in pain.

* * *

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