Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

October, Sarah’s Second Year of College…

Saturday mornings were for cleaning. Sarah had long since learned that the only way to keep the chaos manageable in an apartment full of Ughlánas was to establish a routine. It had become something of a tradition: she handled the laundry, and they vacuumed, dusted, and (once they had developed a routine of their own) proved to be surprisingly good at keeping the place in order. There was a kind of joyful chaos to it all, but one tempered by effort and a sense of shared purpose.

Sarah's apartment wasn't exactly a stable home for the Ughlánas… it was more like an open-door clubhouse. Various goblins stayed with her on a rotating basis, drifting in and out according to some mysterious schedule of their own devising. Still, there were constants amid the chaos. Tippy, sweet and gentle, had been a fixture at Sarah’s side almost from the start. Porge, Nib, and Thrash were semi-permanent residents, their endless antics confirming Sarah's suspicion that, while more mature than Tippy, they too were essentially youngsters among their kind.

Zee was another regular visitor, though his presence felt different; he’d always carried himself with a wisdom and subtle authority that marked him as distinctly older. Mischievous, yes—but never as childlike or impulsive as the energetic quartet who had wholeheartedly claimed Sarah’s home as their own.

The glamors they wore in public… disguising themselves as children or pets… were dropped entirely in Sarah’s apartment, where they could be themselves. To Sarah, they looked exactly like what they were: trickster goblins with too much energy and very little impulse control, but a knack for turning chores into an oddly efficient but highly amusing game.

Still, there was something warm and familiar in it. The rhythm of folding clothes while an Ughlánas swept in dizzying spirals with a broom three sizes too big for him or watching another climb the counters with a spray bottle and a pair of goggles. There was always laughter. Always something broken. And always the promise of Sunday.

Sunday was their day. Sarah planned something special every week: a hike, a picnic, movie marathons. This time, she had decided on something new. The zoo. The Ughlánas had never been, and the idea of them trying to interact with other animals—even from behind glass—was both thrilling and terrifying.

As she sat cross-legged on the couch, pairing socks with a sigh, Porge plopped down beside her with a grin. "Do animals like peanut butter sandwiches?"

Sarah didn’t even look up. "You're not bringing snacks to feed the animals. We talked about this."

"But what if they ask nicely?" he persisted, eyes wide and innocent.

"They're animals. They don't talk."

He gave her a skeptical look. "Neither do dogs. That didn't stop Ambrosius from getting your burrito last week."

Sarah groaned. She had the feeling that tomorrow was going to be a long day.

-*-

That evening, they all gathered around the low kitchen table for dinner—Sarah with a steaming bowl of pasta, the Ughlánas with an impressive, slightly suspicious assortment of food items they had "foraged" from the fridge. Nib was carefully peeling a banana with his long, nimble fingers while eyeing a cookie he had clearly stolen from the jar. Thrash had somehow acquired a massive pork chop and was attempting to eat it with chopsticks. Porge, as usual, was eating his spaghetti with his hands, clearly winning some imaginary battle with each slurp.

Little Tippy sat quietly beside Sarah, legs tucked under her, her fork clumsily twisting pieces of spaghetti as she leaned against Sarah's side. She didn't speak much, but when she did, her soft little voice could melt iron.

"Sarah," she said, gently tugging at her sleeve, "what's a zoo?"

Sarah smiled and set her fork down. "It's a place where you can go and see animals from all over the world. They're in big enclosures that look like their homes."

"Like a big park?" Nib asked, finally giving in and popping the cookie into his mouth.

"Sort of," Sarah replied. "Except you’re not supposed to touch anything or feed them. Or talk to them. Or climb into the exhibits. Or—"

"What about befriending them spiritually?" Thrash interrupted, his pork chop held aloft like a scepter.

Sarah stared at him. "No."

Porge grinned. "Too late. I already wrote a poem for the penguins."

Tippy giggled quietly and leaned into Sarah’s side. Sarah sighed with a smile, knowing full well that she had absolutely no control over what tomorrow would bring. But at least dinner was peaceful.

For now.

-*-

Elsewhere, far from the cozy kitchen table and the goblin-littered apartment, Jareth, King of the Goblins, was relaxing in the solar of his castle. The room was warm and glowing with low lamplight, lined with bookshelves, crystal decanters, and a massive, curved window that overlooked the shimmer of the city below. He was not alone.

Garthan, lounging sideways on the settee with his boots kicked off, was reading aloud from a volume of The Witcher. Lily sat beside him with her feet tucked beneath her, sipping something warm, while Randel leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head in perfect, long-suffering repose.

The door creaked open, and Zee slipped in, bowing slightly. "She’s taking them to the zoo tomorrow, Kingy."

Jareth raised a brow, intrigued. "The zoo?"

Randel chuckled. "That’s either a heartwarming gesture or a disaster waiting to happen. Possibly both."

Garthan gave a low whistle. "If I know the Ughlánas, they'll try to liberate the residents."

Jareth smiled faintly, eyes glinting. "You and the boys keep an eye on her, Zee. From a distance. I don’t want her to feel as though we are hovering over her, every waking moment."

Zee shot him a sardonic look, but simply murmured "Of course, Kingy."

Jareth’s gaze drifted back to his friends. "It's touching," he murmured. "How much she enjoys being with them."

Garthan snorted softly. "Good thing, too… since she’s going to be our Queen, don’t you think?"

Jareth didn’t answer right away. His smile lingered, wistful and unreadable. As the conversation continued around him, his thoughts slipped elsewhere.

He would have liked to go to the zoo with her. Not to cause her mischief. Not even to be seen. Just to walk beside her. Just to hear her laugh.

But she had banished him, and he had to honor that wish.

Still... to be near her again, even for a moment—

He looked out through the curved window into the glowing Labyrinth beyond, and his voice, barely audible, whispered to no one:

"Just once more."

Sarah's Saturday

Chapter Text

Sunday morning began with a flurry of activity, most of it chaotic. Sarah stood in the middle of her room, trying to coordinate four very opinionated goblins into weather-appropriate outfits and proper glamors. Tippy, bless her heart, was already ready and waiting by the door, her illusion making her look like a sweet, sleepy toddler in glittery boots.

"Thrash, no," Sarah said firmly, arms crossed. "You are not going as a pug again."

"But I'm so good at it," he argued, already halfway through his transformation, his ears flickering with illusionary fur.

"We talked about this. It’s not a big deal at the park or when we’re hiking, but the zoo won’t let you in if you’re a dog."

He groaned and slumped in defeat. "Fine. I’ll be a kid. But I'm making myself taller. And I want a hoodie."

"Agreed," she said, pointing to the door. "Go. Hoodie. Now."

Porge glamored himself to look like a very sticky six-year-old with grass stains, while Nib was disguised as a quiet, bright-eyed boy clutching a rubber lizard. Once everyone was accounted for and disguised, Sarah herded them out the door, clutching her MetroCard like it was a holy relic.

Their walk to the subway was surprisingly smooth, if you ignored Thrash trying to sniff every dog they passed and Porge trying to order a pretzel from a hot dog cart using acorns. When they reached the 116th Street station, Sarah did a headcount, swiped her card five times, and ushered them all through the turnstiles.

"This thing’s a portal," Porge whispered to Nib, crouching down and inspecting the metal bars like a suspicious artifact. "Ancient. Possibly cursed. Definitely magical."

He gave one of the turnstiles a cautious poke. It spun. "Aha!" he gasped. "It responds to contact! That means it wants a sacrifice."

Before Sarah could intervene, Porge pulled a lint-covered gummy bear from his pocket and solemnly placed it at the base of the turnstile. Then, with all the pomp and gravity of a goblin priest at a sacred ritual, he stepped forward—and immediately tried to go through it backward.

It caught him square in the hip and spun halfway, trapping him mid-wiggle like a greased ferret in a revolving door.

"Just go," Sarah hissed, grabbing him by the back of his hoodie and yanking him forward through the gate. "Forward. Like a normal human child."

"I was communing," he muttered, adjusting his shirt. "The portal was listening."

Nib leaned in with wide eyes. “Did it say anything?”

“Yes,” Porge replied with great solemnity. “It said, ‘Please insert MetroCard.’”

"Just go," Sarah hissed again with a grin, gently nudging him the right direction.

The 1 train was packed. Porge immediately leaned forward and gave the metal pole an enthusiastic lick. "Tastes like batteries!"

Sarah snapped her head around. "Porge! What are you doing?"

"I was testing it," he replied proudly. "For enchantments. Definitely a hint of sorcery. Also maybe rust."

Nib, ever the curious one, leaned over and gave the pole a quick experimental lick. He made a face. "More like pennies. With sadness."

Before Sarah could intervene, Thrash squinted at the pole like it had offended him. "I bet it's got regional flavor."

"Don’t you—" she began, but too late. Thrash swiped his tongue along the lower half of the pole.

He paused, then nodded. "Yup. Queens. Definitely Queens."

Sarah groaned. "Stop that. That’s not flavor, that’s disease."

Nib conjured a tiny soap bubble, which floated lazily through the air like a drifting moonbeam. It caught the sunlight from the subway windows and shimmered with iridescent colors, dancing gently as it passed over the heads of passengers. A toddler across the aisle squealed in delight, clapping pudgy hands and pointing. Even a stern-looking man in a business suit cracked a reluctant smile.

Sarah watched in a moment of brief wonder—until Thrash leaned over, squinting at the man next to him, and asked with utmost sincerity, "Why do you smell like pickles?"

The man blinked. Then, seeing Sarah’s expression of complete horror, he laughed.

"Well," the man said with a shrug, "I did have a pastrami sandwich for breakfast."

“Hmmm…” said Thrash, looking him up and down. “You smell delicious.”

The rest of the car chuckled, and even Sarah couldn’t help but smile a little. Still, she buried her face in her hands and muttered, "Please let the zoo be easier than this.""

At 96th Street, they made the transfer to the 2 train with minimal damage to Sarah’s sanity. Thrash planted himself in front of the subway map like a general reviewing a battlefield. "This is a treasure map. I knew it. Look—there's the red line, and that curve near the Bronx? That's clearly the path to the Vault of Forgotten Gold."

Nib peered at it, squinting thoughtfully. "Or the Lair of the Sleeping Beasts. It’s shaped like a fang."

Porge tugged at Sarah’s sleeve. "What if we took a little side quest? Just a tiny one. We could make it back in time for the penguins."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "No side quests. This isn’t World of Warcraft."

Thrash puffed up his cheeks, clearly plotting how to reframe the entire trip.

Then Tippy tugged gently on Thrash’s hand and gave him a look of innocent conviction. "But the animals are waiting for us. We can find treasure later."

Thrash deflated instantly, softened by her logic and big, soulful eyes. "Okay, zoo first. Treasure after. Maybe."

Sarah gave Tippy a grateful smile. MVP of the day already, she thought.

By the time they reached Pelham Parkway, Sarah was sweating and questioning all her life choices. She bought soft pretzels at the corner cart just to keep them occupied for the walk. As they neared the gates of the Bronx Zoo, she turned to face them, hands on her hips.

"All right," she said. "Remember the rules: No climbing. No feeding. No touching the animals. And no tricks."

Porge, with his mouth full of pretzel, mumbled, "Define tricks."

Sarah closed her eyes and prayed for strength.

-*-

The Bronx Zoo loomed ahead like a glittering jungle fortress, and Sarah had barely made it through the gate before she found herself on the verge of wishing herself away—to the Goblin King, of all people. The thought lingered for half a second before she shook it off, her chest tightening with a pang of sadness.

Paying for five tickets had earned her a mildly sympathetic look from the woman in the ticket booth, who assumed she was a frazzled young mother wrangling four extremely eccentric children. Sarah smiled through clenched teeth and accepted the visitor map, which was immediately snatched out of her hand by Porge.

"Map privileges!" he announced, waving it like a pirate captain claiming a new world. "I shall navigate."

Nib peered over his shoulder. "Turn it sideways. You're leading us into the gift shop."

"That is where the treasure is," Thrash pointed out, already eyeing the souvenir stand with unhidden interest.

Sarah gently tugged the map away. "Let’s maybe try to see some actual animals before we conquer retail, okay?"

They hadn’t even reached the main path before chaos began to unfurl.

Tippy tugged at Sarah’s hand, pointing delightedly at a giant animal-shaped topiary near the entrance. "Elephant bush," she whispered, her eyes round with wonder.

While Sarah was smiling down at her, Nib attempted to trade a gum wrapper for a balloon held by another kid. The child looked intrigued; the parent less so.

Thrash found the rotating entrance gate utterly fascinating. He looped back through it no fewer than three times, proclaiming it a “time vortex” before Sarah grabbed his hood and pulled him back in line.

Porge, meanwhile, had wandered off to a nearby signboard covered in animal facts and was loudly critiquing the dietary habits of lemurs. “Who eats only fruit? Where’s the protein? Where’s the Cheetos? These guys need snacks.”

By the time they passed through the plaza and onto the zoo's main path, Sarah already felt like she’d run a marathon. And they hadn’t even made it to the exhibits yet.

She took a deep breath. It was going to be a long day. But at least—for now—they were all still together.

-*-

Their first stop was the flamingo pond, which was—perhaps in hindsight—a poor choice.

Thrash gasped in awe and immediately attempted to mirror the flamingos by standing on one leg in the middle of the path. He wobbled dramatically before toppling into a group of unsuspecting tourists, who scattered like startled pigeons.

"I was achieving perfect balance!" he shouted from the ground.

"You were achieving public embarrassment," Sarah muttered, helping him up with a sigh.

Porge was standing at the fence, holding the map like a scroll and declaiming something that sounded suspiciously like a poem. “Behold! Pink angels of the marsh! Stand ye tall, with noodle legs and twisted beaks—"

"Stop serenading the wildlife, Porge. You’re going to scare them." Sarah called.

"They like it," Porge said, undeterred. "That one nodded."

Nib leaned forward, face pressed against the railing. "That one winked at me. I think we’ve bonded. I shall name her Shimmer."

"No touching the flamingos," Sarah said automatically, dragging her gaze from the forming audience around them. A passing couple was giggling. A toddler clapped.

Tippy was crouched beside a nearby informational plaque, gently tracing the embossed flamingo with one finger. She looked up at Sarah, wide-eyed. "They look like dreams," she said quietly.

Sarah knelt beside her, brushing back Tippy’s hair. "They kind of do, don’t they?"

Then came the sound of a splash.

Sarah’s head snapped up. Thrash was kneeling by the shallow decorative stream nearby, now soaking wet from the knees down. "I thought I saw a fish. I wanted to say hi."

Sarah groaned and reached for towel she kept in her backpack for just such emergencies.

Sarah and Tippy

Chapter Text

Next, they made their way toward the wolf enclosure, where a pack of gray and white wolves lounged in the shade or prowled the edge of their habitat. The Ughlánas fell unusually quiet, their gazes focused with fascination.

"They remind me of the Worg," Nib said reverently.

Sarah blinked. "Worg?"

"Werewolves. From the Strigoi kingdom," Thrash added, nodding. "Very noble. Great singers. They howl in harmony during moon festivals."

"I like the small one," Tippy said, pointing at a younger wolf curled up near a boulder. "He looks kind."

Porge pressed his face against the glass. "Can we bring one home?"

"Absolutely not," Sarah replied.

"But he could sleep on the couch."

Sarah gave him a flat look. "You mean the couch you almost lit on fire last month?"

"Yeah, but I didn’t," he said, grinning. "Couch is still there. Perfect for a wolf."

"The werewolves will like you," Nib said to Sarah as they continued walking. "You’ll see. They’re very polite. Also, very fluffy."

Sarah sighed, wondering if 'polite and fluffy werewolf diplomacy' was a conversation normal people ever had. Then again, she hadn’t been normal in a long time.

-*-

Snack time came just in time to prevent what looked like a developing plot to convince a zookeeper to let them “borrow” an alpaca. Sarah steered them toward a shaded bench near a food kiosk and returned with a small armload of churros and juice boxes. It wasn’t gourmet, but it would keep little mouths and hands busy—hopefully long enough for her to catch her breath.

Porge held up his churro like a staff. "I shall now cast sugary blessings upon all!"

He waved it dramatically in a circle, accidentally flinging cinnamon sugar into the wind, which promptly dusted a woman walking by. She blinked in surprise, then smiled faintly as if it had been an intentional treat.

Thrash, meanwhile, tried to trade his churro with a peacock that had wandered too close. "Yours sparkles more than mine. Let's swap."

The peacock strutted away in contempt.

Nib dipped his churro in his juice box like it was some sacred ritual. "This is culture," he announced, eyes closed. "Refined. Sophisticated."

Tippy had cinnamon sugar all over her cheeks and nose but sat contentedly in Sarah’s lap, swinging her legs and licking her churro slowly, like it was the finest dessert she’d ever had.

Sarah smiled as she looked over the group—sticky, loud, unpredictable, and entirely hers. The brief moment of peace was almost surreal. She leaned back and sighed.

Then Thrash burped so loudly it startled the peacock.

"And the moment is gone," she muttered, grinning anyway.

-*-

Their next stop was the giraffe exhibit, a serene area where the tall, graceful animals browsed lazily from tree-height feeders. Or at least, it was serene until the goblins arrived.

"They're sky-horses!" Thrash declared, awestruck. "Look at their necks! They've got built-in ladders!"

Porge was instantly obsessed. "Can we get one? Please? Imagine the commute. I could ride to the bodega in style."

"You can't keep a giraffe in the apartment," Sarah said wearily.

"Not with that attitude," Nib muttered.

Tippy, meanwhile, stood quietly at the fence, eyes wide with admiration. "They’re so tall," she whispered.

One giraffe meandered closer to the viewing area, and Thrash attempted to communicate by mimicking its movements. He stretched his neck, pursed his lips, and tried to hum in what he called "giraffe dialect."

"Is that working?" Porge asked.

"Hard to say," Thrash replied. "It blinked. That’s practically a greeting."

Nib clutched the fence excitedly. "Maybe it’s a scout. Maybe they’ve come to recruit us for their secret sky kingdom."

"That one looks wise," Porge added. "Like it knows ancient things. Maybe it’s a druid."

Sarah stared at the giraffe, who appeared vaguely puzzled by the growing congregation of tiny, loud admirers. "It's chewing its lunch, guys. I don’t think it’s about to knight you."

"Not with that attitude," they all chorused back.

Sarah rubbed her temples. The giraffes, at least, remained dignified.

They had barely left the giraffe enclosure when Nib spotted something on a bench near a staff entrance—a black walkie-talkie, unattended.

"Treasure," he whispered reverently.

Before Sarah could stop him, he had snatched it up and was already turning knobs. "This is a communication relic," he said. "We can use it to summon the other half of the giraffe kingdom."

"Give it—" Sarah began, but Nib had already pushed the button.

"Code sky-horse alpha reporting! Giraffe druids inbound!" he shouted into the device.

The walkie-talkie crackled. "...Repeat? Who is this? Security… CODE RED, CODE RED!"

Nib’s eyes widened. "Uh oh… we did something."

Within moments, two zoo staff members came running from opposite ends of the path, looking around frantically.

"Scatter!" Thrash yelped, and the goblins bolted in all directions.

Sarah did her best to herd them like rogue cats, whisper-shouting through clenched teeth. "Drop the walkie-talkie! Drop it—now!"

Nib tossed it into a nearby shrub just as the zookeepers passed them by. One of them glanced at her with narrowed eyes but moved on, distracted by the sudden squawking of birds in a nearby enclosure.

They reconvened around the corner behind the reptile house, breathless.

"That was exhilarating," Porge wheezed.

"We could have gotten thrown out of the zoo," Sarah snapped.

"But with flair," Thrash said proudly.

Tippy, clutching Sarah’s hand, looked up with innocent eyes. "Are we going to see the snakes now?"

Before Sarah could answer, a loud hiss and a low rumble from just inside the nearby building caught their attention. The sign read: World of Reptiles.

"Ooooh! Scaled sorcerers!" Porge cried, already bolting toward the entrance.

Sarah barely managed to grab Nib by the back of his hoodie as he tried to follow. "We are not summoning any lizards. We are looking at them. Quietly."

Inside, the reptile house was dim and cool, the winding path lit by soft lamps and glowing tanks. The goblins moved like shadows—noisy, clumsy shadows with far too many fingers pressed to the glass.

"Look at this one! It’s got armor like a beetle and eyes like doom," Thrash said, tapping the glass where a monitor lizard basked under a heat lamp.

"That’s... actually a pretty good description," Sarah admitted.

Tippy lingered at the turtle tank, staring with quiet awe. "This one’s ancient. I can tell. He remembers things."

Porge found a green iguana and insisted it blinked in Morse code.

"He’s sending messages to the dragons Underground," he whispered.

Sarah gave him a flat look. "If a dragon shows up here today, we’re leaving."

"Fair," he replied.

Sarah looked skyward. "Please give me strength. Please."

Porge, Nib and Thrash

Chapter Text

Their next stop was the meerkat exhibit, a bustling little enclosure of tunnels, rocks, and dirt where the tiny creatures darted in and out with military precision.

"They’re scouts," Nib whispered with reverence. "Tunnel scouts. I bet they’ve mapped the whole zoo underground."

"They're oppressed," Porge said grimly, holding up a small notepad he had conjured from who-knew-where. "I’m starting a petition. Free the meerkats."

"Porge, they live here," Sarah said, already tired.

"Exactly," he replied. "Against their will. This is a prison. Look at their soulful eyes."

Thrash leaned over the rail. "That one just tried to bite his brother."

"An act of rebellion," Porge said solemnly. "They're crying out for liberation."

He began soliciting signatures from passing zoo-goers, many of whom signed purely because he looked like an extremely serious (and slightly sticky) six-year-old with a notepad. Sarah let it go as long as he didn’t start trying to unhook any gates.

Tippy reached up and patted Sarah’s arm. "I think they’re happy. They’ve got friends and tunnels. That’s a good life."

Sarah smiled. "Yeah. You’re probably right."

Porge looked unconvinced but grudgingly put the petition away. "Justice delayed," he muttered. "But not denied."

-*-

At the tiger enclosure, the goblins were momentarily struck speechless. A massive striped tiger lay stretched out in the shade, its golden eyes half-lidded but alert.

Thrash stepped forward slowly, bowing low with one arm extended. "Great and noble beast," he intoned, "we honor your presence with a performance."

"Oh no," Sarah breathed.

With a dramatic spin, Thrash leapt onto a nearby bench and struck a heroic pose. He launched into a bizarre interpretive monologue involving ancient jungle wars, betrayal by a parrot, and the restoration of honor through a sacred mango. He ended with a somersault and landed in a crouch, arms wide.

The tiger flicked its tail once.

Nib and Porge burst into applause. "Bravo!" Nib shouted. "He felt that."

"A standing ovation from the soul," Porge added.

Tippy clapped politely. "I liked the mango part."

Sarah blinked at them. "What just happened?"

"Art," Thrash said simply, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "Now let’s go see the monkeys."

A few other guests had gathered by the railing during the performance, chuckling and clapping along with the goblins. One older woman leaned over to Sarah with a conspiratorial smile. "Is he in theater?"

"Something like that," Sarah replied, still blinking.

"Well, he’s got presence," the woman added. "And I must say, the mango metaphor was surprisingly moving."

Thrash gave a low bow to the audience, clearly soaking in the attention. "My thanks. The jungle speaks through me."

"You should take him to Broadway," someone else quipped.

"One day," Sarah murmured with a strained smile. "One very far day."

-*-
The primate section was bustling with energy, both inside and outside the enclosures. Monkeys swung wildly from ropes and tree branches, shrieking and chattering in constant motion. The goblins pressed eagerly against the viewing glass, wide-eyed.

"They're like humans," Porge whispered, astonished.

"No," Nib said thoughtfully, scratching his chin. "I think humans are like them."

Sarah chuckled. "I mean... you're not wrong."

Thrash gasped as two monkeys began chasing each other in tight circles around a tree. “That’s exactly what I do when someone tries to take my last pudding."

Porge leaned toward the glass and mimicked the monkeys’ expressions. One monkey paused, tilted its head, and mirrored him perfectly. Porge yelped, delighted. "We’re communicating! This one speaks fluent Goblin Face!"

Meanwhile, Tippy stood quietly watching a family of small monkeys cuddled together on a high branch. She smiled and whispered, "They have hugs like us."

Just as Sarah was about to suggest moving on, a monkey flung a clump of… something… at the glass. Thrash ducked dramatically. "An offering! They accept us!"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "That's not an offering. That’s zoo for 'please go away.'"

"So... like a greeting then," Nib said with a giggle.

Still laughing, they made their way toward the orangutan enclosure next, where a few of the great apes lounged lazily on platforms and ropes, watching the visitors with soulful, intelligent eyes.

"They look like old librarians," Porge said, tilting his head.

"Wise ones," Nib added. "They’ve seen things. Probably know all the secrets of the jungle."

One large orangutan scratched its belly and slowly blinked in their direction.

Thrash mirrored the gesture, then bowed deeply. "Respect, Elder Fuzzy."

Tippy pointed excitedly at a young orangutan swinging clumsily on a rope. "That one moves like me!"

Nib cocked his head and examined the largest orangutan closely. “He sort of looks like Ludo. Just smaller. And no horns.”

Sarah smiled. "It kind of does. Maybe they’re distant cousins."

"Do you think they’d want to join our Saturday cleaning crew?" Porge asked.

"They’d probably do a better job," Sarah teased.

"Fair," Porge said solemnly.

With lingering smiles and another round of respectful bows, they continued on to the chimpanzee enclosure next, where a group of chimps were engaged in what could only be described as organized chaos. Some were swinging from ropes, others were tossing straw at each other, and one sat calmly eating a piece of fruit, utterly unbothered by the mayhem.

"They really are like humans," Porge murmured again.

"Maybe they’re the humans’ little brethren," Nib said, eyes wide. "Like we are to the Othánas."

Sarah glanced at him, thoughtful. "That’s... actually kind of beautiful. But you guys talk. Chimps don’t."

"Maybe they do," Thrash said. "Just not in a way humans understand."

Tippy tilted her head. "They talk with their hands and their eyes. That’s talking, too."

Before Sarah could reply, the PA system crackled to life: “Attention guests: the Bronx Zoo will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please make your way to the exit.”

"Noooo!" Porge wailed dramatically. "We haven’t paid our respects to the mighty gorillas yet!"

"Please, Sarah?" Nib begged. "Just a quick visit? We’ll behave. Honest."

Sarah sighed, smiling despite herself. "Alright. Gorillas, then exit. Deal?"

The goblins cheered and darted ahead, leading the way toward the gorilla enclosure—and that was when everything changed.

The goblins fell silent at the sight of the massive silverback lounging in the shade, flanked by several younger gorillas lounging and foraging around the enclosure.

"We have found our people," Porge said reverently.

"These are the Great Beasts of the Old Forests," Thrash whispered, awestruck. "The stories didn’t do them justice."

Nib stood frozen, blinking at a gorilla who met his gaze with calm intelligence. "He’s thinking. I can feel it."

Tippy pressed her hands to the glass, eyes wide. "They’re so big... and peaceful."

The gorillas, perhaps sensing the unusual reverence, moved closer to the glass. One of them sat down directly in front of Porge, who immediately knelt, bowing low. "Oh mighty Hairy King, I pledge you my snack allowance."

Sarah sat down on the bench nearby, heart melting just a little. Despite the chaos of the day, these rare moments were everything.

Thrash began gently thumping his chest and pacing with a bowed posture. "We must honor them in their own language."

"I’m not sure that’s necessary," Sarah began, but then Nib conjured a small, shimmering soap bubble and floated it right through the glass. One of the young gorillas reached up and popped it, then hooted excitedly.

"They like magic," Nib whispered. "We should teach them."

"No teaching magic to gorillas," Sarah replied automatically.

Before anyone could respond, a voice crackled over the PA system: “Attention guests: the Bronx Zoo is now closed. Please make your way to the exit.”

Sarah stood, brushing herself off. "Alright, team. Let’s head out before they lock us in." She turned around to gather them—and froze.

The bench was empty. The goblins were gone.

"Guys?" she called, scanning the crowd.

Nothing. Not even a whisper of mischief.

Her heart thudded in her chest. They had been right there.

Where Are They?!?!

Chapter Text

The zoo was quiet. Still. The sun had long since vanished, and now the animals slumbered under the hush of after-hours silence. A distant trill from the bird sanctuary echoed faintly in the dark.

A broom closet door creaked open near the maintenance corridor, and Sarah slipped out like a shadow. She kept her back to the wall for a moment, just listening—no footfalls, no voices. The final security sweep had passed her hiding place only moments earlier.

Her hair was tousled, her shirt clung uncomfortably to her back, and her phone was clutched in her hand, flashing a bleak 3% battery.

She exhaled slowly. "Okay. You can do this. Just... find them and get out."

But even as she said it, her stomach twisted. She didn’t want to admit it—not even to herself—but deep down, she already knew where they were.

She crept along the winding zoo paths, her footsteps silent on the concrete. The lamplight was faint and far between, casting long shadows that twisted with every breeze. When she heard voices—sharp and muffled—she darted behind a nearby statue of a crouching panther and held her breath as two security guards passed by.

Once the coast was clear, she slipped out and kept moving, ducking behind trash bins and decorative hedges whenever she saw a flashlight beam cutting across the dark.

She paused at a fork in the path, glancing up at the familiar signage. One arrow pointed toward the exit. The other curved off toward the primate enclosures.

Sarah didn’t hesitate. She followed the curve into the deeper dark.

She stuck close to the shadows, avoiding the main paths as best she could. The placement of the security cameras flickered in her mind… she'd studied them earlier that day during their many zoo detours, half out of idle curiosity, half out of habit. A few were mounted above the larger enclosures, others near the food courts, and more near the exits. She mentally mapped the blind spots and weaved her way through them, flattening herself against low walls and crouching behind planters when necessary.

At one point, she heard a distant radio crackle. Two guards laughed as they passed within twenty feet of her hiding spot. Sarah crouched behind a trash can, barely breathing. One of them mentioned something about tacos. It made Sarah’s stomach growl so loudly, she thought for sure they would hear it.

When their footsteps faded, she rose and continued—silent, swift, and entirely focused. Her heart thudded against her ribs, but her mind stayed clear.

They had to be near the gorilla enclosure. She could feel it in her bones.

Rounding a final bend in the path, she spotted it: the service gate to the gorilla enclosure. A heavy, metal thing, locked tight and topped with an unfriendly coil of anti-climb mesh. A sign warned in bold red letters: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

Sarah approached cautiously, eyes scanning for cameras or sensors. Her fingers brushed the cool iron as she leaned in and whispered, "Porge? Nib? Thrash? Tippy? Are you in there?"

No answer. Just the rustle of leaves and a distant night bird’s cry.

She backed up a step, eyeing the gate with growing dread. "Please don’t make me do this," she muttered to herself.

But she already knew she would. Her friends were in there. Wherever 'in there' was. Heart pounding, she glanced around one more time for guards, then began to climb.

The metal was cold beneath her fingers, the gate slightly damp from the night air. It rattled faintly under her weight, and she froze, listening for any sound of approaching guards.

Nothing but the wind rustling through leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. For some crazy reason, her mind conjured up the image of the Goblin King. She could only imagine what he’d think if he could see her right now.

With a grunt of effort, she swung a leg over the top, careful to avoid the curled mesh. Her hoodie snagged, and for a moment she dangled awkwardly, heart thudding, before she managed to twist free and drop softly to the other side.

The enclosure smelled like earth, damp foliage, and… other things. It was darker here, the canopy of trees blotting out what little moonlight reached the zoo paths. Sarah crouched low and moved forward slowly, her shoes whispering against the grass and soil.

A shape shifted ahead of her—large, slow-moving. Her breath caught.

A massive gorilla lumbered out of the shadows, pausing only a few yards from where she stood frozen. It looked at her, then turned its head disinterestedly and continued on its way.

Sarah exhaled shakily. "Okay," she whispered. "That could’ve gone worse."

She realized, as her breathing began to steady, that the gorillas must be so used to humans—zookeepers, veterinarians, and gawking visitors—that her presence didn’t register as a threat. That familiarity worked in her favor tonight, but she knew better than to count on it. These were powerful, intelligent animals, and she was an intruder in their sanctuary. One wrong move, and things could spiral.

She pushed deeper into the enclosure, weaving through tall grasses and low-hanging branches. Her eyes strained in the dim light, scanning for any movement, any whisper of familiar mischief.

Then, just ahead, she saw them.

In a small clearing bathed in soft moonlight, the goblins were playing with a group of young gorillas. Tippy sat cross-legged beside a juvenile who was gently picking through her hair with surprising care. Porge and Nib were rolling in the grass with two others, giggling and snorting as they were tumbled about like plush toys. Thrash had somehow climbed a low branch and was tossing bits of fruit down for his new companions, declaring each throw a "royal offering."

Sarah stood frozen, torn between amazement and exasperation. It was ridiculous—and yet utterly heartwarming. The gorillas didn’t react to her presence, but were perfectly at ease, their postures relaxed and their eyes soft.

"Guys," she whispered, stepping closer. "What are you doing? We have to go!"

Tippy looked up at her, her expression gentle. "They're our friends."

"Yeah," Porge called, mid-roll. "We're forming an alliance. Jungle unity."

Nib waved from beneath a tangle of limbs. "Just five more minutes!"

Sarah sighed, rubbing her forehead. "You guys promised..."

A flashlight beam snapped on behind her.

"Hey! You! Stay right there!"

She spun around, eyes wide as the gorillas scattered behind her—and the goblins vanished like smoke.

The flashlight beam was blinding, pinning her in place like a spotlight on a stage she had no business being on. Her breath caught as she raised a hand to shield her eyes.

A tall security guard stormed forward, radio crackling at his side. "What do you think you're doing in there? Are you insane?"

Sarah opened her mouth, then closed it again. No excuse she could possibly offer would sound reasonable.

"You’re trespassing. This is a federal offense—endangering protected species, maybe even vandalism… "

"I wasn’t—" she tried, but her voice came out barely above a whisper.

Another guard joined him, already unhooking a keyring from his belt. "We need to get her out of here before the animals come back. Move slowly and don’t make any sudden gestures."

Sarah could barely nod. Her knees trembled, and her heart was doing its best impression of a jackhammer. She glanced once over her shoulder, but there was no sign of the goblins. No giggles. No glowing eyes. Nothing.

She was on her own.

Caught!!!

Chapter Text

The trip to the police station was a blur. Sarah sat in the back of the cruiser, hands cuffed tightly in back of her, mind racing in a fog of disbelief and embarrassment. The flashing red and blue lights on the dash flickered across her face as the city rolled past.

When they arrived, the officers led her inside and through a set of swinging doors. Before she could fully process it, they stood her against a blank white wall and told her to face the camera.

Click.

Sarah blinked at the flash. "You know," she muttered dryly, "this probably looks better than my driver’s license picture."

The officer didn't laugh.

Next came fingerprinting, which necessitated the removal of the cuffs. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief before she received another curt escort down a corridor that smelled like old coffee and paperwork. She was still too stunned to fully register what was happening, but her body moved on autopilot, following each instruction as if she'd rehearsed this somewhere in a nightmare.

They brought her to a narrow room with gray walls, a flickering overhead light, and several desks. Two metal chairs faced the opposite side of a weary-looking officer, maybe a detective, seated at one of the desks. He waved her into one of them.

Sarah sat stiffly, hands clasped in her lap, still cold from the cuffs. A second officer stepped up to the desk—mid-forties, exhausted-looking, coffee cup in hand. The seated officer started fiddling with a tablet.

"Name and address," he said without preamble.

Sarah hesitated for a half-second. They already had her ID. No point lying.

"Sarah Anne Williams. 529 West 112th Street. Manhattan."

He typed something into the tablet. "What were you thinking? Do you understand how dangerous that was? Those are gorillas. You could’ve been seriously hurt—or gotten them hurt."

Sarah opened her mouth, heart hammering. "It wasn’t like that. I… I was trying to get my dog back. She ran into the enclosure."

Both men looked at her. The detective raised a brow. "Your dog?"

"She’s an emotional support animal," Sarah added quickly.

The detective leaned back. "And what’s this dog’s name?"

Sarah blinked. "Uh. Daisy."

“Daisy. Right.” More typing. “You realize, you’re looking at a possible felony… trespassing in a restricted animal enclosure, endangering protected species. Serious stuff."

Sarah didn’t know if that was true or if they were just trying to scare the stupid college girl. Either way, it was working.

Before the officer could finish typing, a commotion erupted near the entrance. A door banged open, and a cluster of teenagers, still in costume from some kind of cosplay event, or maybe even an early Halloween party, staggered into the station. One was dressed like a medieval knight, complete with a crooked cardboard sword; another wore what looked like a lopsided Pikachu onesie. They were laughing uproariously and dripping with what Sarah could only assume was beer, judging from the smell.

"Fantastic," the detective muttered, rubbing his forehead. "It’s gonna be one of those nights."

An officer poked his head in. "Hey, Sarge? We need extra hands out front. It’s like a clown car exploded."

The detective scowled, setting the tablet down, then jerked his thumb toward Sarah. "Put her in holding for now. We’ll deal with her phone call after we clear this mess."

The second officer nodded, already taking her by the arm. Sarah barely had time to process what was happening before she was back on her feet, being led away.

-*-

They led her down another hallway, this one cooler and dimmer than the rest of the station, the buzz of fluorescent lights overhead giving everything a clinical sheen. A uniformed officer opened a barred door, motioning for her to step inside. From across the corridor, catcalls erupted from a group of male detainees. Sarah ignored them, keeping her expression unreadable.

The holding cell was lined with a bench and already occupied by two other women: one dozing, the other watching Sarah with bored curiosity. Sarah made no eye contact, choosing instead to sit stiffly at the far end of the bench, back straight and arms crossed in a posture she hoped conveyed confidence.

She didn’t feel confident. Her stomach churned. Her hands were clammy. She kept replaying everything that had happened in her head, trying to think of a way to explain it all that didn’t sound completely insane.

A few more minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. Her cellmates appeared to fall asleep. The silence was deafening. She kept her face calm, composed. But inside, she was spiraling.

This is going on my record. I could get expelled. What am I going to tell my dad? What am I going to tell Karen? What am I going to tell literally anyone?

She blinked hard and swallowed the rising panic.

And then, just as she was considering how awful her mug shot would look on a disciplinary file, she felt something close around her ankle.

Startled, she looked down.

A tiny green hand was reaching out from beneath the bench, its fingers wrapped gently around her. Her heart skipped a beat—not from fear, but from an overwhelming flood of relief.

Zee’s familiar voice whispered up to her, soft and urgent. "Close your eyes, Sarah."

She didn’t hesitate. The moment her eyes shut, the world around her vanished.

-*-

She reappeared in the familiar warmth of her apartment living room, surrounded by the unmistakable scent of pumpkin spice air freshener, lint, and goblin mischief. The overhead light was on. A blanket was half-draped over the couch. Her backpack and wallet were on the kitchen table. And standing in front of her, shifting guiltily from foot to foot, were Porge, Nib, Thrash, and Tippy—all looking shamefaced.

Zee folded his arms with the air of someone who’d just wrangled a hurricane into a teacup. "Well?"

The goblins glanced at each other.

"Sorry, Sarah," Porge muttered.

"We didn’t mean to get you arrested," Nib added quickly.

"It was all in the name of interspecies bonding," Thrash tried. "We were making history."

Tippy tugged gently at Sarah’s sleeve. "I didn’t mean to scare you."

Sarah let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand over her face. "You guys..."

But then she smiled. Just a little.

"I forgive you," she said. "Just... maybe next time, ask before sneaking off to form an alliance with gorillas, okay?"

They all nodded vigorously.

Then her brow furrowed as she looked back at Zee. "But... the police know my name. My address. Are they going to come looking for me?"

Zee offered her a crooked little grin. "Nah. They won’t."

While she couldn’t explain why, she believed him wholeheartedly. Sarah bent and took Zee’s hand, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, Zee. Seriously. I didn’t think I’d make it out of there."

Zee gave a small, modest shrug. "You're one of ours. We look after our own."

Before she could ask what that meant, Nib’s stomach gave an impressively dramatic growl.

"Soooo... are we starting dinner soon? Because we’re starving."

Sarah looked at him incredulously, then burst into laughter. Only Nib would jump from near-arrest to food without missing a beat.

She shook her head, still smiling. "Alright. Let’s see what’s left in the fridge."

As she headed into the kitchen, their feet pattering behind her, Sarah felt a warm swell in her chest. They might drive her absolutely crazy—but they were hers. And she wouldn't trade them for anything.

Sarah's Mugshot

Chapter Text

It was long past midnight at the Bronx precinct, and the energy inside the station was finally settling into a state of sluggish routine. Phones rang half-heartedly. Paperwork shuffled. A flickering vending machine hummed against the far wall. A couple of officers leaned on the front desk, sipping lukewarm coffee and trying not to doze off.

From down the hall came the sound of raised voices—confused, irritated. Something about a suspect vanishing from lockup, right under the noses of the guards. No one noticed the tall man in the black overcoat who walked silently through the station.

He didn’t belong there, yet no one questioned him.

His eyes—an impossible shade of crystalline blue—glanced around the room with casual ease. His golden-blond hair was braided back elegantly, and his gloved hand flicked the edge of his coat as he moved.

He stopped beside the main console. With a slow, graceful motion, he raised one hand and snapped his fingers.

Time stopped.

Conversations froze mid-sentence. Coffee cups hung motionless in the air. The flickering fluorescent lights held steady in their cycle. Everything was still.

Jareth, the Goblin King, exhaled softly. "Alright, Zee. You know what to do."

From beneath his coat, a small green figure dropped lightly to the ground. Zee, eyes sharp and mischievous, cracked his knuckles. "Sure do, Kingy. I watched that detective log in. Just give me a few minutes."

Jareth nodded and strode across the room toward the nearby desk, sifting through the paperwork with idle elegance. He found the file with Williams, Sarah A. typed neatly at the top and pulled it free. The tiny, grainy mugshot paperclipped to the front made him smile.

"She looks annoyed," he murmured, eyes gleaming with humor. "I think I’ll keep this."

Zee was already at the detective’s desk, his fingers flying over the tablet. Administrative menus blinked by in rapid succession: "Deleting system entries... cross-referencing backup... purging facial recognition index..."

Jareth moved to the photo station and with a few clicks of the mouse, wiped the digital slate clean.

Within minutes, it was as if Sarah had never been there.

Zee hopped down from the chair, brushing his hands. "All done."

Jareth gave a thoughtful nod, folding Sarah’s paperwork and slipping the mugshot into his coat pocket. "Do you think we should tell her what we’ve done?"

Zee tilted his head. "Might earn you a smile. Maybe even a thank you."

Jareth’s expression softened, though a trace of melancholy passed over his face. "Or she might think I’m stalking her."

"You are stalking her," Zee said helpfully.

Jareth arched an eyebrow. "Not in the creepy way."

Zee smirked. "No. In the royal, brooding, lonely-heart, watching-from-the-shadows kind of way."

Jareth chuckled under his breath before looking at Zee sadly. "She’s not ready yet."

"But she will be,” was the response as Zee nodded with certainty. “And sooner than you think."

With a final glance around the frozen precinct, Jareth raised his hand again. A rush of air shimmered around them—and they vanished.

Time resumed.

The officers blinked. One spilled coffee on his shirt. The detective swore at the unresponsive computer. An empty paper file fluttered off a desk.

No one could remember quite what they were doing. And no one noticed anything missing at all.

Jareth at the Precinct