Time went by; lazy days spent touring the Goblin City, or spending a quiet evening by the fireside sketching a brood of goblins as they laughed and gibbered and caroused. And usually, lurking somewhere around the edges of her vision was Jareth. His presence was something she had grown used to, even looked forward to from the moment she first opened her eyes in the morning. It had gotten to the point where she was actually flustered if he WASN'T around; but regardless of whether or not he was nearby physically, he was always hiding out in her thoughts.

Especially today. She had decided it was time to take her sketches and actually put them to paint, but when she arrived in her studio, fresh doodles in hand, Sarah found her inspiration was dissolving. It wasn't for lack of her new digs either; she had finally convinced Portia that it was not necessary to make her new clothes when all she was going to do was splash paint on them. Rifling through old trunks stuffed into the corner of a forgotten room revealed buried treasure that she now sported with ease: a pair of well worn brown cutoff trousers, a discarded gauze tunic that had yellowed with age and a black vest that was missing two buttons made her look like a Bohemian Goblinish artist.

Knowing the mood would creep up on her, she decided to start small, with a little sketch of a trio of goblins eating a pot pie. Their bug-eyed expressions of delight and their inability to grasp the concept of silverware had set her laughing one night at dinner. Once she started, as usual Sarah lost all track of time. The sun arced across the sky slowly, sending the shadows pivoting throughout the room. Eventually it had become stifling in the room even with the open arches that allowed breeze to pass through. Not wanting to leave, Sarah took off the vest and shed the oversized tunic, preferring to work in her camisole. She put the vest back on for decency, as the undershirt was strictly that: something to go under a gown to provide support but not coverage. Sarah bent back over her work, shutting out the Underground until she heard someone clear their throat.

Jareth was leaning in the doorway, looking like he had stepped out of a romance novel. He was so beautiful in his lean-hipped gracefulness it made her chest ache. The only two things she could think of to do were drool or smile. She chose the latter.

"What is so amusing?"

Sarah shook her head, tucking strands of hair that had escaped her makeshift bun behind her ear. "Not important. What are you doing here?"

He produced a tin plate of fruits from behind his back. At the sight she felt her mouth begin to water. There went her resolve not to drool. Wiping her dusty fingers on her pants, she pored over the selection. Looking up into his eyes, with a wry grin she selected a peach and bit into it with relish, its juices running down her chin.

He stared, transfixed."When you missed breakfast and lunch, Hoggle thought you might be up here." He leaned towards her ever so slightly. "I see he was right."

Needing distance and still munching on the peach, Sarah walked back to her layout of various sketches. "When I get going, I always lose track of time. Tell him thank you."

"And nothing for my pains?"

“Pains?”

“It took forever to find just…the right…peach.”

Again, that knot in her stomach. "Thank you, Jareth," she said politely. Even though the room was warm, her skin began to break out in Goosebumps as he approached. With an inward shiver she realized this was the first time they had actually been alone together; no goblins or random castle creatures about underfoot. He peered over her shoulder.

"Your drawings…they're quite good." The charcoal caricatures of goblins were very comical and true to form. His eyes skimmed over a drawing of Ludo playing nursemaid to a handful of pebbles, of Sir Didymus atop Ambrocious and of Hoggle tending the greenhouse before they fell on a very rough sketch of a very familiar face. How had she managed to draw him without him noticing?

She saw what he was looking at and hastily started to pick up the sheets of parchment, stacking them haphazardly together."They're just doodles of course, none of them are finished yet and I'm still working on figuring out the oil paints and-” She was babbling, trying to cover up her embarrassment. Of course, why there was embarrassment in the first place only made the situation even more embarrassing and-

He placed a gentle hand on her arm, stilling her. "You are a fine artist, Sarah."

She blushed under his scrutiny, reverting from a fairly knowledgeable twenty something to a stargazing teenager old who had the attention of the man of her dreams. Only for a second, though, and then her natural confidence kicked in. She smiled brightly."Thank you."

He moved away, not trusting himself to maintain control when she smiled at him like that and unwilling to push her too fast. He paced the room, studying objects silently."I wonder if I might ask you a favor."

"Sure."

"I would like to commission a portrait."

Sarah laughed. "You don't have to commission anything; you're the one who gave me all of this."

"You won't do it?"

"No," she explained, "I mean you don't have to pay me. I'd be happy to do a portrait for you."

He smiled. "Excellent."

Rifling through her sketches, Sarah tried to pick out the one that would be most appropriate for an oil painting worthy of the Goblin King. "Was there one in particular you were interested in?"

"Actually, I would like you to paint me."

Oh, she thought.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “We can do that. Did you have anything in mind?”

He cocked his head to the side. “In this matter I would have to bow before your expertise. What do you think would look good?”

/you naked in bed wearing me as a blanket/

Whoa. If she wasn’t careful, she would need to start having Portia hang around her to censor any X rated thoughts that flickered through her mind.“Well…let’s see,” she pointed to the platform, “stand over there.” He followed her instructions and Sarah stood before him on the floor, arms crossed, looking up at him with her artist’s eye. She noted the light, the texture and the general lines of his stance critically. She was surveying him so intently that Jareth felt the need to plant his hands on his hips, slipping on the mask of the Goblin King.

“No, don’t do that,” she said immediately. “Just…act natural.”

“Like this?” he asked, smiling playfully. He leaned against the wall, crossing his legs and sliding his hands gracefully into the pockets of his leather waistcoat. In an instant he went from the Goblin King to sullen boy.

She gave him an exasperated sigh. “Do you really want to have your portrait painted looking like James Dean?”

“Who?”

Sarah sighed. “Just…here. Stand like this.” She stepped onto the platform and planted her feet shoulder’s width apart, tilting her body slightly away from the rest of the room; a picture of easy defiance. She waited until he moved next to her, mirroring her stance perfectly.“Do you have a crystal ball?”

One elegant eyebrow arched. He twisted his wrist and a perfect crystal was suddenly resting in his palm. She turned, facing him. “This may sound dumb, but one of the strongest images I have of you is when you…” she trailed off, flushing slightly at the memory of Jareth, pale and delicate begging her to be his slave. “Well, you know, you were there. I think it would be a very powerful pose for your portrait.”

“If that is how you think it should be done, then that is how we shall do it.”

“Good.” She jumped off the platform and backed up to where a fresh canvas stood, mounted on an easel. “Hold up the crystal, like you want me to have it.” With a sly grin, he raised his arm; crystal perched innocently atop his cupped fingers as his eyes glittered with an unspoken desire. With his one eyebrow arched in amusement over a silver-shadowed eye and his lips curved upwards in a confident show of arrogance, he looked like he had seven years ago. In fact, he looked exactly the same, as if he hadn’t aged a day. His alien beauty and silent charm were like a blow to her stomach.

/I ask for so little/

“H-hold it,” she whispered, “don’t move.” Sarah blindly reached for her charcoals with a shaking hand, unwilling to tear her eyes from him for one second. Tip of the charcoal pencil to canvas, she bent to her to simply watch her work, Jareth remained silent. Normally by now his goblins would have been swarming up the walls; they liked to be where the action was. However, he had given them strict instructions to keep away from Sarah while she was working, and they knew better than to risk his wrath. All in all, the comfortable silence was a pleasant change from the usual chaos.

She was partially obscured by the canvas, but he could still observe her arms, bare and golden in the afternoon sunlight. Her amusing little outfit was shocking at first glance; he was used to seeing her in elegant dresses. As he watched her step back from her work, eye it critically for a second and then dig through a pile of brushes at the back of the room, he had to admit that the trousers were almost more appealing than Portia’s gowns. They were too short, so they ended at her calves, and also hugged the curve of her bottom like a second skin. They sat low on her waist and showed a small strip of skin between the hem of her camisole and the waistband of the pants. Once he started thinking of her camisole he couldn’t stop; she should know better than to run around in her underwear. It covered almost nothing, and the tight little black vest she was wearing covered just enough to put his imagination into overdrive. He felt a tightening at his groin and immediately switched trains of thought to something that would not assist his body in creating a scandal. Caliban. That was better; thoughts of the ogre immediately scoured away the desire that had begun to grip him.

If the truth must be told, Jareth felt that most of the blame for the predicament he and his subjects were in was because of his Royal Councilor’s staunch advice. No mercy, no generosity and no weakness; that was what would make Jareth a ruler. And look what happened when he followed that motto: a sorceress just happened by and decided to teach him a lesson. A much-needed and well deserved lesson, he knew that now.

Caliban had fallen from grace, and for decades did not emerge from his dungeon lair. It was no secret that he wanted to conquer the Labyrinth but Jareth, as the Underground’s wayward master, knew better than to attempt to tame that beast. Old friendships were hard to break and although he hadn’t trusted Caliban in a long time, his advice lately about Sarah had proven to be invaluable. Maybe the old man/ogre had finally come to see the light…

Sarah stretched, drawing Jareth’s attention away from his thoughts. Arms over her head and her back arching gracefully, she all but took his breath away. “It’s getting too dark for me to do this properly.”

“I could light some candles.”

She shook her head. “No, that would change the lighting and my colors would be all wrong. I think we should quit for tonight."

He released the crystal orb and watched it float out the window before jumping down off the platform. Sarah was bent over a water bucket, cleaning her brushes and so she didn’t notice him coming to a halt in front of her easel before it was too late.She was a very very modest painter when it came to full-on portraits but even she knew she had caught his essence perfectly. It wasn’t that hard; in the back of her mind she had thousands of images of him stored neatly away and labeled as wishful thinking. She had decided to portray him from the waist up in front of a starry night sky. It was still in its beginning stages, and only a few strokes of color had been added so she could plan her palette, but it was still powerful. It was him; the Goblin King.

Sarah nervously waited for him to comment, and when he didn’t she grew even more nervous. She watched him raise a hand toward the canvas, hesitate, and then lower back down.

“Well?” she finally asked.

He turned to her, looking down with such warmth that she felt she might burst into flames. “I lied. You are not a fine artist.”

Her hopes crashed.

“You are a true master.”

And then soared back up to new heights.

She smiled and resisted the urge to stammer. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

“Of course, it’s not quite as beautiful as the artist herself, but then again, not many things are,” he said huskily.

Her grip on the paintbrushes tightened painfully. What was wrong with her, men had paid her compliments before! Oh, who was she kidding, none of them could hold a candle to the exotic beauty of the Goblin King. Unfortunately, though, her sexual prowess was almost nonexistent, and so she couldn’t seem to speak past the lump in her throat. She stilled, still clutching the brushes as he stepped toward her, closing the distance between them. He smoothed loose tendrils of hair away from her eyes, suddenly not caring that he could be risking the fate of his kingdom. He had to kiss her or else he would die. He leaned down, watching her eyes close, dark eyelashes like charcoal fringe against her cheeks. His lips hovered over hers. For one shining moment their minds touched and they shared the exact same thought.

/I’ve been waiting a long time for this/

…That’s when a bucketful of wet something splashed over them in a cold wave. Sarah gasped, brushes clattering to the floor. Once she cleared the water from her eyes, she looked around. And realized it wasn’t water that was dripping down her chest.It was yellow paint.

“Goblins,” Jareth hissed, slicking his paint-streaked hair back from his eyes. Looking down at himself, it appeared like someone dipped him sideways into canary yellow paint. He seemed to have gotten the brunt of it; Sarah’s face and upper body was splattered with it but not drenched.

“My sketches!”

Paint had nearly obliterated a few of the simple drawings she had strewn around the workbench. Frustrated, she tried wiping the paint off the charcoal doodles but only succeeded in smearing it around. Finally, she gave up.

“Who did this?”

Jareth’s eyes narrowed and his Goblin King mask slipped into place. “Whoever it was is going to be very, VERY sorry.” He stalked out of the room, leaving a trail of bright footprints in his wake.A thorough interrogation of the Goblins revealed nothing. It would do no good to punish them all as they were all telling the truth, so Jareth decided to bide his time. In the meantime, a thorough cleansing was very much in order.

“…and then, SPLAT! The paint got ALL over them and he left pretty ticked off. I did good, right boss?” Newt sucked in a deep breath after recalling the entire afternoon’s fiasco to Caliban.

“I specifically remember telling you NOT to interfere,” the ogre began and Newt braced himself for a blow, “but I must admit the paint bit was perfect, I could not have done it better MYSELF!”

Caliban roared with laughter. “The High and Mighty Goblin King and poor, sweet Sarah covered in paint,” the ogre clapped his knees, “That must have been priceless!”

“Priceless, it sure was,” Newt agreed, basking in his moment of glory.

“So they were about to kiss, is that right?”

“That’s right, I was right there sitting on a ceiling beam. There they were, about to do it and then WHAM! They never saw it coming.”

“Excellent, you did very well Newt.”

“Should I follow them some more? I can make sure they NEVER kiss! I have a piece of cod I can whack them with next,” next said excitedly, smacking one tiny fist into his other palm.

“No. No, the time is right to set the stage for my final move.” Blood red eyes began to glow. “And then…the Underground will be mine.”