A white gown of chiffon fluttered in butterfly motions out of the concealment of a bush. One more movement, a graceful step into the arena of the courtyard, and Isabelle could be seen fully, the light breeze teasing her loose, yet waist-fitting dress. Even her hair was not safe from the cool night air. Mouth drawn up at the corners and hands thoughtfully held behind her back, she sauntered over to the fountain and its glistening silver nymphs. Light music drifted in from the ballroom, accompanied by laughter and chatter. In the dusk light Isabelle looked frail, troubled, and alone.

Somewhere in the depths of the rose-laden shrubbery, two slanted, elfin eyes gazed at this twilight beauty. Hugging the plants and trees close as he followed her in the darkness, he remained at a quiet, careful distance. His eyes twinkled merrily, and a mischievous, yet marveling grin played upon his lips. "What a pearl!" he whispered to himself. "What they all say is true, then... She does look like the queen at a younger age. But... this beauty... so uncertain... so withdrawn... so mysterious..." He quickly bit his lip and made a more earnest pursuit. "And so sad..."

Isabelle bent over to pick two white roses and placed them behind her ear in decoration. With a soft, crystalline voice she began to sing:

"Maidens were made for certain charms
To tend the hearth with graceful arms
To dance through day and love through night
To dash out wrong and live by right

Darkness not should haunt her hours
But should glow so bright with summer flowers
And nothing heavy to weigh her mind
But the thought of some sweet love to find

So where is the sunshine
Amidst this heavy rain?
Maidens shouldst not know
The meaning of life's pain.

So where is the knight
To slay this monstrous past?
A maiden's one refrain
Should be the song her heart holds fast.

A maiden's love is a lovers' game
A dance that brings her heart to flame
A kiss that lasts from spring to fall
A momentous dance at the yearly ball

Moments of honey to sweeten the mind
Will destroy the bonds which her past binds
A lover's kiss will kiss good-bye
The blighted past that haunts her eye."

She continued to hum the tune to herself as she twirled about the fountain, her long hair streaming behind her in her sudden frenzy. It was as if an uncontrollable and unexplainable passion had taken grips of her within her solitude, causing her to react in the only way that came to mind; she would dance the darkness away.

Suddenly, Isabelle's elfin observer stepped from the shadows and blocked her path, bringing forth a startled yelp from the girl. Even in the darkness it could be seen that she had flushed red with embarrassment; she caught herself quickly and made a faint attempt at sounding unabashed by the surprise encounter. "Oh!" she laughed weakly, "It's you! Vindar, am I right?! You scared me clear out of my skin."

Vindar stepped back, tall and reflecting no expression from his downturned face. "Dancing alone in the darkness, sweet maiden? This is a ball; you should have a partner." Without warning, a sideways grin took hold of his full mouth. Once again, Isabelle flushed; she smiled for a brief second as she turned to meet his gaze, which waited between slants of eyes that peered from a mischievously tilted head. She seemed to think better of her reaction, and pulled up the ends of her dress to run from the courtyard.

Vindar quickly dropped his flirtatious demeanor and took on a puzzled expression. It took only a second for him to begin his pursuit. "Playing chase, Isabelle?" he called out buoyantly as he bounded on long legs toward her.

"No!" she cried breathlessly, not discontinuing her speedy journey. "Just leave me alone! I am completely humiliated, you have gotten what it was you desired!"

She turned a corner, and was immediately stopped by Vindar's patient, waiting figure. Before she could turn around and begin running again, Vindar grabbed her arms and twisted them behind her back. "Let me go!" she cried.

"Not so fast, sweet maiden," he chuckled.

"Stop calling me that," she said between gritted teeth.

"Such a frisky creature," he teased. "Very well, my dear, you may go, if you so choose. Just know that my desire was not to humiliate you. Never would I laugh at such a sparkling animal as yourself."

He released his grip, and she turned to face him, gaining her composure and pulling her hair back with a dignified motion as she did so. "And do not call me 'my dear', Son of Sage. I am not your lover, nor will I ever be."

He leaned with assuredness against a nearby column. "And why not, Lovely? Are you ashamed to have me even think for a second that I might share your beauty?"

"Only one person has ever called me 'my dear'," she stated with a sudden sincerity of expression, remorseful and remembering. "And he is gone." Without further words, she turned slowly to enter the castle.

"Isabelle--"

She stopped and made a sudden twirling motion to face him. Looking about anxiously, she finally turned her gaze to the elf, almost looking disappointed that she had not found someone other than him awaiting her expectant eyes. "Yes?"

"That person you refer to... wouldn't be Jareth, would it?"

Her eyes widened. She wet her mouth carefully. "Jareth... The Goblin King..." She held her arms about herself. "Stop playing games, elf, you don't know the memories you arouse."

"Would you like to know why I am really here?" Vindar asked quietly, approaching her with careful steps.

"If it is to taunt me, I--"

He took her hand. "He is here. To see you. He asked me to bring you to him."

"He is dead." Tears began to stream down her face. "You are not telling the truth... are you?"

"See for yourself."

He stepped back ceremoniously and pointed toward the eastern wall of the courtyard; she followed his motion and floated with purpose to look around the barrier. Sitting at the base of an old elm tree was the blond-headed man. With slow purpose he raised his head and gazed at the young beauty that sought him out. First, he pursed his lips, sighed, and wrung his hands before he found the strength required to smile. Rising, he sifted his full blond hair nervously through his fingers and pulled his other hand from his pocket to reveal some folded sheets of parchment. Isabelle carefully stepped out from behind the concealing wall, her mouth closed tightly and her eyes wide with amazement. With a graceful, yet absentminded motion she smoothed out her dress. The man was silent for several moments before he finally spoke.

"Isabelle..." He shook his head in wonder and chuckled through a wavering voice. "You certainly have grown into a unique creature." His eyes were hungry, but with a type of longing that expressed care instead of avarice. "I wondered over these years -- I wondered if I would ever live to see this day."

Walking toward him as if she were approaching a dangerous animal, Isabelle said, "My king? Is it truly you? I-I thought you were dead.... After all this time..."

"No, Isabelle, I am no longer your king. I was never any kind of king, but more of a monster." He bridged the final length of grass that had separated them. "Now, I am Jareth. Just call me Jareth."

Tears streamed down her olive skin. "Jareth. I am glad you have returned."

She smiled weakly, and he abruptly went to embrace her. Hiding her head in his shoulder, she shook as he smoothed her hair out affectionately.

"Yes, Isabelle, I am home. At least, for now." Jareth sighed and held her tighter. "You have grown to be so tall... I remember when you were no more than three feet high! I never saw you after your transformation..." He lifted her head to look at her. "To think you were once a goblin, all due to my wickedness. But, even then-- even then your beauty would not be contained. Such a sweet, sweet child, and nothing but wickedness to live in..."

"You are wrong!" she exclaimed passionately. "You took me away from my father, you saved me from his wickedness! Even if I would have had to remain a goblin for the rest of my life to escape his torment, to stay in your castle, I would have been content!"

Brushing his hands over her hair he said, "Sarah is caring well for you, I would suppose? You look well... And you have everything you need?"

"Oh, yes, she is absolutely wonderful..." She smiled wanly. "One of the best friends I have had, or could ever ask for. She's like a mother to me." With a fallen smile she turned down her gaze.

"What's this?" he asked suddenly. "Why be sad, then? If you have everything you need..."

"Oh no!" she said with a start, her smile widening without obvious provocation. "I have everything I have ever wanted.... now that I know you are alive." Her expression was sober and her eyes piercing.

"Oh, sweet Isabelle, sweet darling child..." Holding her hands in his left, he proffered the parchment that lay in his right. "I drew these two years ago, imagining how you would look right now." He laughed softly. "I must confess, they don't match your beauty, but they prove that I have thought about you often, and with happiness and wonder each time."

She took the paper with trembling hands, and opened them carefully. They were slightly frayed at the edges, and were wrinkled with wear, but the images they depicted once unfolded were true to the artist's claims. It was indeed an exact replica of the girl, drawn meticulously with a gentle hand, depicting in soft and sometimes sharp charcoal lines each contour of her youthful face. A sweet smile played on her lips, and she brought her hand to her mouth to suppress a bewildered laugh. "It is me!" she observed happily. "They are marvelous... I--" She looked up at him in wonder. "I do not know what to make of all this. Even though you were always so kind to me, you seem to be an entirely different person."

"Well, my dear," Jareth replied, tilting his head to the side and grinning mischievously, "that is because I am. But, I..." He shook his head again as if amazed at himself, and chuckled. "This may sound strange coming from me, for I was never one to admit my feelings with ease, but I will say that there is one way that I have not changed. I still love you Isabelle as I always did. I just hope that it is not too late for me to do it the proper way."

"You know...." She held his hands tightly and bit her lip. "I waited a very longtime to hear you say that. A very long time."

"The wait always stops somewhere, I should know. Sometimes we have to make the wait stop ourselves, or we shall end up waiting for eternity." He slipped his arm about hers and suddenly exclaimed, "And, speaking of which, I say we should have a seat by this fine elm to continue our conversation. No use standing in the middle of this courtyard as if we were complete strangers afraid to stray outside of conventional conversation."

Once they were seated, Isabelle said, "You know, I am not the only one who waited for you to return... But, I'm afraid that the other person I speak of might not be as willing to accept your presence."

"You do not mean to tell me that it is too late to woo Sarah, now would you?" Jareth replied in a joking tone. "For I will woo her until I die, if need be."

"Sarah has given up on you."

Jareth leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. "I know that she has. She was somewhat suspicious of who I was today, when I encountered her at the ball, but I imagine she has convinced herself that I am still dead and gone by now. If not because she truly believes it, then because it is safer to believe so than to try to love me for a third time. That is, if I ever earned her true love."

"You know you did. But now, well... She doesn't ever speak of it, but I think she began to feel as if you left her out of some cruel persuasion. When you did not return, she changed somehow..."

Jareth sat upright. "Changed? How so?"

"Oh, I don't know." She sighed and placed her hands in the folds of her dress. "She doesn't talk to me about her feelings, not like she did when I first met her. Now, she's just the queen, and a marvelous one at that... Charming, funny, always looking out for her friends and minions as if they were the closest people in the land to her."

A brief silence took reign, and Jareth's eyes hazed over with memory. A smile widened slowly on his countenance. "She sounds like a spectacular queen... Too spectacular."

Isabelle fingered the silk pleats of her skirt. "Several nights ago, I went to speak with her. It was half-past two in the morning, and I did not expect to find her awake. Peeking into her quarters, I saw her, bent over some treasury scrolls and holding the hair back from her eyes. She was tired. Very tired. I could tell. She looked up, but did not see me..." With a motion intended to imitate that of Sarah's, Isabelle lifted her head wearily. "From the drawer she pulled a crystal sphere, just like the ones you used to cast your spells. She gazed into it, as if seeking someone, then began to twirl it across her fingers, so graceful she was... It was like a tightrope act, for she was the wire and the ball was the acrobat. And then she said, as if to herself, almost as if she were acting out a part, 'I am offering you your dreams...' Sighing, she placed the talisman back into its place in the drawer, and said, 'And he was certainly true to his word. I have everything I could have ever...'" Isabelle drifted off and looked languidly up at Jareth. "And then she began to cry. I had never seen her cry, not in all these years..."

Jareth consumed each word greedily, looking at the young girl in quiet astonishment. Suddenly, without warning, he diverted all of his attention to the task of departure.

"Where are you going?" Isabelle called as she too rose.

"I have things to do, my dear," he replied as he walked backward so that he might face her. His step was light but hurried. "Many, many important things to do!"

"What are you going to do, Jareth?" she asked, taking only one step in pursuit before stopping.

"Learn what it is like to live!"

"And what will you do after that?" Isabelle queried as if dissatisfied with his answer.

"Show Sarah what I have learned..."