Of Cupid and Psyche-Chapter 14

AN:  Sorry for the horrendous wait.  I know that I was really regular about posting chapters during the beginning of this story, clear up through the ending, but unfortunately, before I could complete this chapter, my life went into overdrive.  I had visiting relatives for a week, followed by my first week of work at Petco, and so when I get home, writing isn't exactly the first thing I want to do.  Luckily, this is the last official chapter.  There may/may not be another

Disclaimer:  Labyrinth is the intellectual property of the Jim Henson Company.

Of Cupid and Psyche
By:  DemonSaya

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Chapter Fourteen

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

The parlor was nearly silent, save for the faint sound of fingernails against wood.  The High King of the Underground sat beside his lady, one hand fisted against his mouth, the fingers on the other drumming lightly against the arm of the chair.  A grim frown pulled down his thin lips.  Guenevere was troubling her lip with her teeth, deep in thought.

Lance had come in moments ago, obviously torn between various emotions.  There was a maliciousness curbed only by the faintest hopelessness in his eyes as he told them of the danger Sarah was in, how Jareth had already gone after her.  Concern for Sarah, who he must have discovered was now his only relative who would reside permanently in the Underground.  Hatred for Jareth, who he still believed had taken his rightful place in society.

Now, the man stood, trembling in fear for his own part in this was too great to be ignored, and he did not have a chance of dodging the sentence that awaited them.  It had been made blatant that he'd been the one interfering, and while it was in question, he could not be punished.  Now, however...

So many of his laws broken, so many protocols shattered.  Those ancient rules were in place to protect those who would come to the Underground, seeking what they lacked in the above, rules that protected the Underground from them as well.  Death spells sent into the above to snare mortals for petty reasons, interference in challenges meant to test ones mettle, to test their sincerity and desire to become a citizen.

Rage swirled just beneath the surface.  It took a long, deep breath to leash the rage he felt.  “Where is Alura?” he asked, his voice deadly quiet.

Lance, keeping his head bowed, was silent for a long moment before he spoke.  “Her father is a member of the court.  She has been staying in his room to hide from both the Goblin King and his lady.”  He had the decency to look ashamed.  “That...or my own.”

The rage inside strained against the hold he had on it, but Guenevere rested her hand upon his, soothing his temper.  “It would seem that the list of those I must punish grows long,” he kept his voice cold.  It was gratifying when Lance flinched.  He may be a philandering sod, but he cared for Isabella, his sister.  It was not in Lance's nature to kill, especially not if the one who would be killed was his relation.

However, this did not excuse him from the punishment he would receive.  “Calling attention to this would do little good at this point.  We will let her think we do not know of her actions.  We shall wait.  Let Jareth do what he may.”

Lance's throat bobbed before he spoke.  “What if he is too late?”

Arthur looked at Lance coldly.  “Pray he is not.”

From the shadows came a movement.  It came as little surprise when Caledonensis stepped forward, his face almost what Arthur would call amused.  “The Goblin King has always had an impeccable sense of timing.  Before the challenge was issued, Jareth spoke to me today.  We shared some mutual speculation regarding the challenges.  Everyone knew you were involved.  Jareth's direct involvement is unfortunate, especially this late in the challenges, however, he will not allow Lady Sarah to die.  He'd rather lose her.”

“Given the circumstances, the laws broken, the direct tampering with her trials, Sarah will not leave the Underground.  She has more than proven herself, and if I must convince the court of this, so be it.  Caledonensis, contact the swarm queen, Septimus, and Nivaine.  I'll send my fastest messenger to contact Jareth and inform him that the presence of the Fisher King will be required.”

Guenevere smiled at her husband and spoke softly so only he could hear.  “I do love it when you get all fierce, my king.

He gave her a faint smile, then returned his gaze to the other's in the room.  “Lance, find a way to get Alura into the receiving room before Sarah's return.  Gwenny, find Jeremy.  Inform him that the family of Sarah Williams has permission to enter the Underground for at least one week.  I shall make certain that Morgaine is there as well, and inform the court that we shall reconvene in closed court this evening through tomorrow.”  He stood abruptly.  “We must work quickly.  Time is of the essence.  You have your orders.  Go now.”

Arthur took a deep breath as everyone began moving to obey him and when the room was empty, he firmed his lips.  That girl had worked too hard for someone to take her right away from her.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Hopelessness was a strange feeling.

The Fisher King had noticed as soon as she'd pulled the strangely carved box from her pack that there was something dark and malignant about it.  A spell wrapped around it, camouflaging something far worse within.  It would have been a lovely box, would have contained the Grail quite well.  It was just the right size, and he couldn't help but wonder if that was not intentional.

Those spells must have grabbed her as soon as her bare flesh came in contact with the wood.  He'd tried to stop her, would have turned the box towards himself.  He had the training to deflect such spells, however he could do nothing.  He'd seen the fear in her eyes as her hands moved with a mind of their own.  A compulsion spell, cleverly implanted into the box.

It was a sharp reminder as to why aristocrats in the Underground wore gloves whenever they handled something foreign.  Had none of her companions warned her of the way that spells latched into flesh?  Both during casting and activation, contact with the skin was essential.  If flesh did not touch the surface, the spell would not be activated, would simply remain on the surface until the magic faded or one with the knowledge wiped it away.

And so there was little he could do as she opened the box.

Her eyes rolled upwards and the box clattered to the floor as she slumped out of the chair.  Those eyes closed completely and she was heading for the floor.

Carefully, he caught her, preventing the possibility of further injury and he slowly eased her to the floor.  “Assistance,” he called, his voice sharp and demanding, even to him.

The girl's hand felt frightfully cold in his grip.  It was limp, her face was still, almost peaceful.  It reminded him disturbingly of death.

Servants arrived nearly immediately, took note of the fallen guest and their healed king and gasps of surprise went up.  He gave them one sharp look, which silenced their chattering.  “Take the lady to a room, make certain she's comfortable.”  He turned to a youngish boy.  “You, ride to Avalon and contact either the High King, or a man called Jareth and inform them that the Lady Sarah is in need of-”

Movement was already blurring around him.  Two servants lifted Sarah with great care, set her onto a stiff board for transport, a healer was hovering over her, trying to determine what had happened.  Another servant was using a square of linen to pick up the box.  The messenger was already gone from the doorway, and Bran could hear orders shouted through the castle.

Amusing, how they were so eager to help this Lady.  Then again, they probably realized what she'd done for him; for them.

He pushed himself to his feet, then waved a hand, indicating that another servant should get her pack, then followed the servants which were moving Sarah to a room.

Upon entering, he noticed the window was wide open and a few were standing there, waving the clean air from outside into the room, clearing the stagnant air within.  “Is the Lady alright?” he asked the healer, keeping his voice low.

The healer looked up, concerned.  “I know not.  She feels as though dead, however, her breath still moves in her lungs, her heart still beats.  It is death...without death.  The body lives.  I don't understand why or how.”

Looking down at her, Bran had a theory.  Her hand was wrapped tightly around a crystal pendant at her throat.  Funny how he'd not noticed the little necklace before.  Then again, it shouldn't have surprised him.  The pendant was small enough to be barely noticed, pretty enough that no one would question it around a woman's neck.  However, from within the pendant came a powerful sensation.  Another spelled object, this one personal, perhaps a gift from her Jareth.

Bran was old, but he'd never failed to appreciate a woman's appearance.  He'd noticed before she'd fallen, had seen everything, but he'd not yet realized what it was she wore.  She was so full of vitality and her eyes were so unusual that he'd had trouble seeing much more than her face.  Now, however, he could see she wore more than half a dozen items radiating protection.  Even the cloak that she'd worn – which a servant draped over her, as though it were a blanket – radiated that same sensation from the very materials used to make it.  Even the clasp, which if he was correct was designed by faeries.  For them to personally design and craft anything for a human spoke volumes for this girl's connections.

Likely this girl did not even realize, nor was she likely to take advantage of the fact that her connections were so powerful.  She was an unusual creature.  Intelligent, perhaps a little over-confident.  Gentle, kind, and surprisingly strong-willed.

With an age-worn hand, Bran gently brushed her hair back from her face, looking down at her.  A soft sigh escaped him.  There was truly nothing he could do besides keep her safe and wait for those who could fix this to come and rescue her.  Sighing softly, he moved out of the room, heading towards his own study.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he'd nearly fell from the sky when he'd felt Sarah's panic through the connection between then through the crystal.  Now, however, there was a frightening near-void where she used to be.  He couldn't feel her through their connection, only the faintest trace of defiance, which told him she was fighting tooth and nail.

There was a firm pull from his lady, telling him 'here I am, come this way'.  The magic from the water hadn't faded yet.  He'd seen the castle before the sun had set, and had spent the past five minutes flying around it.  The pull came from a window that was standing open, despite the biting cold.  Screeching in frustration, he dove towards the window, changing his form the moment he was clear of the entrance.

He was exhausted, his hands were shaking with fear and weariness, but seeing Sarah laying upon the bed, so still, so weak, he nearly released his rage, not really caring at the moment who he took out with it.  Then, there was the barely perceptible rise and fall of her chest, before it rose again.  He rushed towards her, climbing onto the bed beside her, tearing off his glove and gripping her wrist.  There was the faintest feeling of her blood pulsing in her veins.

His head dropped and his breath sobbed from him.  “Alive,” he whispered in relief.  He could worry about the babes later.  Now, however, he had to take care of the woman.  He opened the water skin, holding it against her lips.  He poured some into her mouth, frowning when she sputtered and turned her head to the side, the water spilling mostly down the side of her face.

“Don't defy me, Sarah!” he snarled, lifting the skin to his own lips, taking a mouthful of the water.  He leaned down over her, pressing his mouth against hers, his mouth forcing hers open, his tongue entering her mouth to taste her even as the spring water poured into her mouth.  With a snarl, he tore his mouth from hers, using one hand to hold her mouth shut and the other plugging her nose.  “Swallow it,” he growled at her.  She struggled, sputtered, flailing weakly before she finally swallowed the water.  When her throat bobbed, he pulled her forcefully against his chest, embracing her tightly.  “Sarah,” he whispered against her skin.  “If you don't wake up, I'll come into this dream after you and I'll make you, you damn fool...”

“Who're you callin' a fool?”  A hoarse voice murmured back, lips moving lightly against his ear.  “You overbearing jerk...”

He pulled back, looking down into her green eyes.  She still looked so weak, but at least she was awake.  “Who do you think, love?”  He pulled her close again, pressing his face against the silk shirt he'd given her.  He didn't want her to see the emotions on his face, so he clutched her, almost desperately.  He ignored the trails being carved down his face, until the shoulder of the shirt became damp enough to notice.

“Jareth...”  Sarah whispered.

He didn't lift his face, instead, turning his head and kissing the side of her neck gently.  He opened his mouth just enough to taste her skin.  “The spell is still there.  I must remove it.  Just give me a moment, Sarah, then we can discuss whatever you wish...”  

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Jareth didn't straighten as he worked.

His face was tucked against her neck, his arms tight around her, as though frightened that if he released her, she would slip away from him.  Her shoulder was damp, and she had a nagging suspicion that her lover had spilled a few grateful tears on her shoulder.  Knowing his ego, she knew better than to ask or suggest that he had.  She she simply sat there, in the arms of the Goblin King.

She didn't know where she was, but the bed she was on was soft, the room lavishly decorated.  Not Jareth's taste, nor was it anything she'd seen in Avalon.  The only other castle in the Underground she'd visited was the home of the Fisher King.

The man holding her pulled away after a moment, pulling on his gloves, and then he reached for the box which she recognized.  She flinched at the sight of it.  “Jareth, no-”

“It's fine, love.  I'm not touching it with my skin.”  He lifted it, flipping it open, then he rested a hand gently against her chest and there was a strange pulling sensation, as though something was wrapped around her heart and reluctant to let go.

“How do you know what to do this time?” she asked softly, trying not to disturb him.

Almost amused mis-matched eyes lifted to her face.  “Well, love, when you left last time, I did what I usually do when I'm emotionally upset.  I did a great deal of studying in my library.  Threw myself into my work so to speak, and after the last time, I'd have been a fool not to do some studying regarding how to remove death spells from those I care for.”

She lowered her face, hiding a blush.  The blush faded when she noticed the almost black, malevolent feeling, cloudy substance coming from her chest, resting in Jareth's hand.  She shuddered slightly, swallowing hard.  “What is...that?”

“The death spell designed to wrap around your heart and likely crush it.  Clever, but crude.  My mother's sensibilities regarding things such as this is much more subtle.”  He sounded wry, but there was an underlying panic in his voice.  “Now, precious, don't move and don't speak.  I must concentrate.”

So she didn't move, she didn't speak, not until Jareth put that curious black ball of malevolence back into its box.  As he'd closed the box, he had relaxed enough to let her know the danger had passed, she threw her arms around him tightly, upsetting his balance and knocking him off the bed and onto the floor.

Her knees scraped on the floor a bit, but she didn't care.  She heard fabric tear, heard a soft curse from the man beneath her, but before more than that came from his mouth, her lips pressed to his and thus she silenced him.  

His arms came up around her, a hand fisting in her hair, the other pressing her painfully close to him.  He came alive, fighting against her for dominance, his hands tugging her shirt free from the skirt, slipping beneath to feel her soft skin.  “Sarah...” he breathed.

Neither of them quite registered the sound of the door opening until there was the sound of an almost amused man coming from the entryway.

“Well, well.  Sorry to intrude, Lady Sarah.”

His lady turned an attractive shade of red and drew back, even as they both glanced towards the door.  “Er, I'm better now, Bran.”

The man standing in the doorway was dressed well, his head held high, his black hair heavily silvered at the temples.  It hung loose down to his shoulders.  “Yes, I see that.”  A merry twinkle entered those pale blue eyes, even as they moved towards him.  “You must be Jareth.  The lady spoke of you.”

Jareth coughed faintly, standing and giving his lady a hand up.  “Yes, I'm Jareth, Sarah's...fiancée.  Among other things.”

Sarah leaned against Jareth, her arm going around his waist.  “What are you doing here, Jareth?”  She asked softly.  He glanced towards her, his amusement drawing a smile upon his face.

“What do you think, Precious?  Saving your lovely backside again.”  He glanced towards Bran, the Fisher King and his eyes shone with predatory amusement.  “Fisher King, I've a favor to ask.”

“I think I can grant a favor for the fiancée of the woman who saved my kingdom.”  The man was agreeable.  That was good.

Jareth bared his teeth in a feral smile.  “Very good.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Alura paced back and forth, her lips pulled into a tight frown.  When Lance entered, she stormed towards him.  “You've got some nerve asking to talk to me after chickening out on our deal!”  She snapped, then slapped his face.  “You would have been a king and I would have been your queen.  All you had to do was help me get rid of that Aboveground usurper!”

Lance lifted a hand, touching his cheek lightly.  Slowly, he lifted his gaze, leaning against a tall support pillar.  “I have my reasons, Alura.  I wont hang myself.  When Arthur finds out – and he will find out, Alura – I'll be punished dearly as it is.  Killing that girl outright as you wished would just bring down the entire court upon me, and I'll not sacrifice my station for anyone.  Especially not a wench whose only interest in men is based on their status in life.”

She laughed at him.  “Don't play innocent, Lance.  It was your idea in the first place!  It was a way to punish that pansy ass Jareth by getting rid of his mortal slut!  He'd have to marry me, I'm the only one who'd have him, and after we were married, offing him would have been a breeze!”

“Get rid of doesn't mean kill her.”

“Don't be an ass, Lance-”

“I think I've heard enough,” a voice from behind them, and Alura whipped around, finding the curtained veil opening and revealing the High King and Queen, as well as the rest of the court sitting behind the rail which separated them from the circle she and Lance stood within.

Desperation obvious on her face, she began backing away.  “This isn't what it sounds like!”

“If only that were true...”  Arthur said, his voice quiet, but firm.  However, Lance has already informed me of the circumstances.  Guards, you may bring in the other prisoner.”

Morgaine was led into the room, her hands bound but her clothes clean, her hair brushed, and otherwise dressed appropriately for court.  She dipped into a curtsy.

“It is extremely troubling to find that within this kingdom that there is such corruption.  Death spells being sent to people left and right, not just here in the Underground, but going into the Above and affecting mortals.  Those who would seduce married women for no reason more than a feather in their hat.  Interference in challenges meant to determine the will of an immigrant, to test if they are meant to be here.”  Finally, his eyes fell upon Alura.  “Interference to the point that the girl received a gift of death placed into a box.”

Alura opened her mouth to speak, however, at that moment, the door behind her burst open.

First came a small swarm of faeries, the Swarm Queen and her entourage of guards.  Then, the lumbering night trolls, led by Septimus.  The next guest was a tall willowy female with long, slightly curled, red hair who had two tiny dragons on her shoulders.

Finally, entered a man with black hair, heavily silvered at the temples, wearing a seal of station, as well as a long blue cloak.  The man strode forward, and bowed deeply before Arthur.  “Arthur.”

Arthur stood, moving down the stairs.  “Bran.”  His eyes glittered with amusement as he glanced towards those who tried and failed to interfere with the progress of Sarah Williams.  “You look well.”

“Wonderfully so,” the man agreed.  “I was told you required my presence.”

“Indeed.”  Arthur glanced towards Caledonensis and nodded.  When the wizened man slipped from the room, and the High King returned his attention to those before him.  “Unfortunately, before I may dole out punishment, there is another issue which I must attend.”

Murmurs of confusion went up among those in the court, until the door opened, revealing Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus, who walked forward into the circle, preceding the Goblin King.  Jareth wore a black crushed velvet frock coat, with icy blue ruffles at the cuffs and neck, black wool breeches, and fine leather boots polished to a mirror shine.  He wore his trademark smirk, tinted just slightly peach with gloss.  There was a hint of glitter in his wild hair.

Not a moment later, three frazzled adults, and two much more confident children were ushered into the room, around to the back, with the exception of a small blond haired, blue eyed boy, who came up to stand beside Jareth.  Then, just after everyone had finally caught their breath and seemed to think that all the unexpected guests had entered, the doors opened again and in stepped a breathtaking woman with dark hair and freckled skin.  She was wearing a simple dress of white, and around her neck was a small pendant, a symbol of station.

This woman was the Goblin Queen.

Whispers of surprise went up around the room as they realized who this girl was, what that symbol meant.

“She's late,” one man said.  “Goblin King, how dare you over-look our lands laws?!”

There was a snarl of rage from the boy at Jareth's side.  The woman looked towards the man who spoke, a calm expression on her face.

Alura sputtered, looking from the mortal girl towards Jareth.  “That's illegal, Jareth,” she sounded petulant, childish.  “If she doesn't complete her trials, she's banned from the Underground-”

Green eyes turned towards her and Sarah Williams walked up until she stood directly in front of Alura.  “Shut up you spoiled little twit.”  She said, her voice cold as winter.  “Jareth did not marry me until after I completed the final task.  We wed in the castle of Bran the Blessed.”

Arthur arched an eyebrow.  “And seeing as the Fisher King stands there quite healed, I'd say her success is rather obvious.”

Jareth just smiled that irritatingly superior smile.  When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with amusement.  “And considering the trouble you're already in, all three of you should really keep your mouths shut...”

Sarah moved past the three prisoners, standing at Jareth's side.  She bowed deeply before the High King, then straightened, slipping her hand into her husbands.

The Goblin King spoke.  “I only brought her here for one reason.  We seek your blessing, Arthur.  She has passed her trials, and earned her right to reside in the Underground.  She did so despite these trials being tampered with, being unnecessarily difficult.  She won, in spite of the fact that there are two babes growing in her belly.  My children.”

Before Arthur could speak, the Faery Queen fluttered forward, placed a hand on either side of Sarah's nose, then did the same to Jareth, drawing surprised gasps from those in the gallery.  It was considered a gift to be touched by the swarm, and being kissed by their queen was unheard of.  Further surprise occurred when Septimus of the night trolls came forth and set one great hand upon Sarah and another on Jareth's shoulder.  He said something that neither understood, then moved away.

He'd barely left them when the fiery-haired, blue-eyed woman stepped before them.  She gave them both a broad smile and then leaned forward, kissing both on the cheek.  “You are both greatly fortunate.”

“Your blessing means a great deal, Nivaine.”

Sarah inclined her head in curiosity, then focused on the two small dragons upon her shoulder.  “Jasper?  Lapis?”

They fluttered over, landing on her shoulder, still obviously bickering with each other even as they whispered something she didn't really understand into her ear.  Their forked tongues tickled as they did, and she giggled a bit.

Caledonensis stepped down, and Sarah blinked hard as she realized the man looked a great deal younger than when they'd first met.  She gave Jareth a confused glance, and he winked at her.  Once Caledonensis led Nivaine away, he leaned towards her, whispering to her.  “The Lady of the Lake.  Part of her gift is that she can reverse the aging process around...certain people.  Caledonensis is affected because he wishes he could be young for her.”

“Does he know...?”

He gave her a secretive smile, then returned his gaze towards his uncle, smiling broadly.  “Well,”  he said dryly.  “It seems that it doesn't really matter if you give your blessing.  The rest of the Underground has already recognized our union.”

Arthur stood, moving towards them, Guenevere at his side.  “It might not matter, however, I offer it regardless.  May you live long, full lives together as King and Queen of the Goblins.  I suppose the only real question is this...when shall the wedding take place?”

Guenevere smiled mischievously.  “You realize that this means you must remain here until it does?  While your wedding before Bran is legal and binding, I certainly hope you wouldn't deny the collective family their right to see you two wed.”

Jareth glanced towards Sarah, his eyes lit up with amusement.  “Sarah deserves a big ceremony anyways-”

“I object!  I object!  He was supposed to be mine!  That was supposed to be MY crown!  I'll not let some little mortal bitch usurp my position!”

Everyone turned in time to see Alura break free of the guards, and she ran towards them, her hands hooked like claws.  Even Jareth was surprised to see this, however Sarah...

Sarah took a single step forward, and slammed her fist into the pretty, flawless face of her attacker, her lips pulled into a tight frown.  It was over so fast, no one had the opportunity to react.  Alura crumpled, bleeding from her nose, clutching it as bright red spilled onto her silk gloves.

“Damn,” Jareth muttered.  “I wanted to be the one to hit her.”

The guards collected the girl, taking her back over to the others.  Arthur turned towards them.  “Jareth, Sarah, please take your respective places.  There is, unfortunately, one other matter that the court must deal with...”  He led Guenevere to her place, and Jareth led Sarah's to her own and all four sat.  The other guests of the court stood around the outside of the room.

“Lady Morgaine, step forward.”

Her head held high, she stepped into the circle.

“You stand here accused of multiple murders in the Underground, among the aristocracy.  You also stand accused of blackmail, coercion, and the attempted murder of Sarah Williams.  How do you plead.”  Arthur's voice was firm, but there was a sadness in his eyes.

She lowered her gaze.  “I...plead guilty...”  She sounded uncertain.

He nodded.  “You are sentenced-”

“Your Highness, if I may make a request.”  Sarah stood up.  At Arthur's nod, she continued.  “While she is not blood kin, she is kin of my children, and that makes her family.  I...would ask that she be placed in our care.  She is not young, and...Jareth tells me that he believes that she is not in full control of her mental faculties.”

Arthur inclined his head, and then nodded.  “I see no problem with that, Lady Sarah.  Lady Morgaine, you will be taken into the care of the Goblin King and Queen, however, your punishment must come from me.”  He took a deep breath.  “Caledonensis will strip you of your gift.  Since you've used it for ill, it will be removed from you completely.“

Jareth winced.  Several of the others in the court gasped in shock.  Arthur simply turned his gaze towards Lance as his sister crumpled on the ground.  “You...It is tempting to exile you from the Underground, make you live out the rest of your life with those you hold in such contempt.  However, I shall not.  Only because you decided to come forward and confess to your crimes voluntarily shall you be spared that fate.”

Lance trembled, his face was pale, although he still held his back straight.  “What is my fate, your highness?”  He sounded grim and resigned.

The High King looked down upon him, his expression solemn.  “You are cast from my court.  You will be sent to the Abbey of the city of St. Augustine to live as a monk for the next thirty years.  If your attitude and behavior are improved by your stay, you may return to Avalon, and be reconsidered for a position at court.”

For a Lothario like Lance, that punishment was going to be hell, anyways.

Those bright blue eyes turned towards Alura.  “Duke Kent, since you could not contain your daughter yourself, you shall pay a price as well.  You are removed from the court.  Your daughter, however...”  His face grew cold.  “You, like Morgaine, used your magic for ill, and so it shall be removed.  Your status and title are stripped from you.  You may live in the home of your father, however you are not to set foot into this castle, nor any other castle, ever again.  Ten years of service to your community, for turning my laws into a political game, and another five for the attempt on the life of Sarah Williams.”

“You can't do that!” she cried.

His expression turned to ice.  “You are lucky I do not have you drug outside and publicly whipped, young lady.  It would likely do worlds of good for your terrible personality!”

She drew up big, theatrical tears, and began sobbing, turning towards Jareth.  When she found no sympathy, she cast her eyes to the gallery.  While some of them may dislike the idea of Sarah being made queen, they would not show her any pity.  In their eyes, she'd broken their laws, laws which were in place for very good reasons.  “It's not fair!”  she cried out, her lower lip trembling.

There was a snort from the side of the Goblin King, and her eyes whirled towards the girl sitting there, who had a look of slight amusement on her face.  “When I was fifteen years old...” Sarah began, her tone filled with repressed laughter.  “I learned a very difficult lesson from the Goblin King.  That lesson was this:  life isn't fair.  It was hardly fair that my challenges were tampered with.  It wasn't fair that I had my sight and mind taken from me, and I'd say it was the opposite of fair to have a little box of death placed innocuously into my travel pack.”

Jareth glanced towards her, amused as well.  “I taught you that lesson?”

“You know you did.”  She said, just enough bite under the laugh in her voice.

Arthur stood, looking down at those who were accused, tried, and sentenced.  “Guards, take these to their cell.  Morgaine, when the Goblin King returns to his castle, he will retrieve you.  Lance, the monks will come pick you up in a few days.”  He paused and looked at Alura.  “You'll be staying with your father, and he will take you home bright and early tomorrow morning.  I think an evening in a cell would do you some good.”

The guards marched their prisoners out of the large gallery.  Slowly, people began filtering out of the gallery, and once the room was empty save the Goblin King and extended family, Arthur sank into his chair, putting his forehead in his hand.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Sarah hugged her little brother tightly.  “It's good to see you, little brother.”

He gave her a pointed look.  “I get to hear the rest of the story before we leave.”  He said it calmly, matter-of-fact, and it drew a smile to Sarah's face.

Smacking her brother on the cheek with her lips, she replied.  “Of course.”  She hugged her father and step-mother when they came towards her, after hesitating a bit, behind Toby.  Her father, naturally inquired if she was healthy, and she explained that she was fine.

Before she could greet her mother and step-sister, Caledonensis came forward.  “You, young lady, are brash, fool-hardy, and probably have more courage than any lady I've met to date.  That said, I'm sure your family and Arthur will want to choke you when you tell them you're pregnant.”

The room went silent.  Almost deathly so.  Sarah swore mentally when she glanced out of the corner of her eyes and saw Arthur was already striding towards her.  She gave the magician a half-hearted glare.  “Thanks a lot, Cal.”

He just gave her a faint smile.

“Did I just hear my advisor properly?!”  Arthur was livid.  His face was actually flushing from his increased blood pressure.  “Are you pregnant?!  And you've known how long?!”

She pursed her lips.  “A bit,” she admitted, feeling a little off guard.

He spun towards Jareth.  “Did you know?!”

“Only after the second challenge.”  The younger king shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal.  “Since she and I have already discussed this, there's really no need for you to have more words than I did.”

Arthur paused to consider this.  Then, he fixed Sarah with a tight lipped frown.  “Alright, young lady.  You are confined to your room for the rest of the evening.  You can have as many guests as you feel comfortable with, however, if I catch you standing for more than ten minutes, I'll be certain to discuss suitable punishments with your king.”

She gave him a sassy smile.  “Yes Uncle Arty.”

Guenevere let out a loud snort of laughter, and Jareth rubbed the underside of his nose.

Arthur stared at her for a long moment and then turned to Jareth.  “Get this woman out of here.”

The Goblin King grinned and before Sarah could dodge, he scooped her up into his arms, and glanced at her family.  “You can follow if you wish,” he said, his voice ripe with amusement as Sarah swore at him, struggling in his arms.  “Precious, do sit still.  It would do you little good for me to lose my grip and drop you.”

Pouting at him, she went still.  “Tyrant,” she muttered.

He winked at her.  “I'll make it up to you later.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.