Silvereiko: I donot own the Labyrinth or Jareth or Sarah. I do own Kithis andsome others, so ask me if you want to play with them. :) Flames and praise welcomed. Enoy!


Crystals

Jareth, King of the Goblins, watched a crystal globe intently. He was currently holding a serious conversation with a fellow Fae. His cousin Vladigar, King of the Enchanted Mountains, looked worried, as well he should have been. The news that he had just given his cousin was disturbing, to say the least.

"Games." Sighed Jareth tiredly.

"Always, cousin. Is there any other way?" Vladigar scowled as he said it. He had dark hair that had been shorn close to the scalp, making his gray eyes and delicately pointed ears all the more prominent. He had never been one to consign to the style of the Fae court, one of the many reasons he generally kept to his forest. He was far too practical and blunt for the schemes and intrigues of his people.

Jareth gently rubbed his temples in sheer frustration. Vladigar laughed at the gesture, earning him a scowl that would have sent an army of lions running. His reflection showed him raising a hand in a peace-offering gesture.

"They make my head ache too, Jareth. But the question still stands. How do we avoid this?"

Jareth heaved another sigh. "We can't. They have made it effectively impossible."

"Damn." It was said without feeling, more of an observation.

"My sentiments precisely. You had better come to my castle, Vlad. We need to make plans or they will finally smite us." He looked up at the ceiling as if he was searching for answers. All he found were cobwebs. "Over a thousand years, my friend. And still our Houses seek to rout us."

Vladigar scoffed. "We were ever the outcasts. I don't know about you, but it has worked in my favor."

Jareth smiled at that. "I know." He focused on his cousin again. "I will see you soon. Oh, I wouldn't leave Jaelis alone. It may be dangerous. There is more than enough room here for the both of you."

"You're right. Besides, she adores you. I'll be there in a week or so. Be cautious, cousin."

"I will." The crystal went black and Jareth was left alone with his thoughts.

The Fae were a powerful race that had existed for longer than anyone could remember, and considering that they were immortal, that was a very, very long time indeed. Once, they had walked through the place called the Aboveground, where the humans and the machines now held sway. When the humans first appeared and began to kill or entrap those associated or gifted with Magic, the Fae fled to the Underground. It was the place that Magic had carved out for itself and the Fae had made a pact to nurture and care for it if it would protect them from the humans. As a result, there was a barrier between the world of humans and the world of Magic. Over time, the Fae had divided the Underground into kingdoms, with the eldest and wisest among them named High King. His direct family members were placed as kings for the minor kingdoms, and a Council and Court had been established in the heart of the Underground. It was said that the grand city of the Fae rested on the soul of Magic itself, but no one was alive now that knew if it was true or not.

Being immortal didn't mean being invulnerable. There were ways that they could die, just not from natural causes like old age. The most ancient among them looked not a day over thirty human years, but they could die by sword, poison, or magic. Wars were always devastating. But thousands of years would pass with little or no change and many simply gave up on life, too weary to go on. They went to sleep and never woke again. Other Fae found ways to entertain themselves, and political intrigue was something that never grew old for many of them. It was called the Game.

It was a constant covert battle of wits, grace, cunning, and intrigue. Power was something that everyone seemed to want, even if they had plenty of it. Centuries ago, Jareth and his cousin had refused to play the game. The repercussions of what they had done when they were pushed had shocked their people and nearly torn down their social laws. Despite being grandsons to the High King, they had been exiled far from the Shining City soon after the debacle.

Now, Jareth and his cousin were being forced to play the game. The Fae had become divided. The factions were warring for power and his Grandfather was in a precarious position. Maleficus, the High King's younger brother, had been attempting to undermine the current power structure for centuries. Now, the Fae were on the brink of civil war, or at the very least, rebellion. Only one other time had this happened; many generations before Jareth's parents were born. The aftermath had been horrific. No one wanted the Underground to erupt in flames and blood again.

So, Jareth and Vladigar would go play the Game, and with any blessing at all, they would survive it together.

The Goblin King turned on his heel and stalked out of the spell room. His black boots thumped on the stone floors of his newly refurbished castle. Black and white veined marble walls and floors gleamed in the soft magical light that came from spheres hung from the ceiling. There were tasteful tapestries and paintings on the walls, depicting scenes from the history of the Fae and many other species of the Underground. The furnishings in the various suites and rooms he passed were carved out of mahogany and not a trace of dirt or dust could be found. All in all, his castle had become the complete opposite of its former self.

When he was first "appointed" as ruler of the goblin realm, he had wallowed in the degeneracy around him because he felt that it was the best way to reject his Fae nature. He had sequestered himself here, choosing to ignore the world and rely on the Labyrinth to entertain him throughout the centuries. After all, the previous rulers had done much the same. It was common knowledge that the Goblin King was always a sort of exile. It had taken a mere slip of a girl to show him how much of the martyr he had made himself.

Sarah. She had bested the Labyrinth itself, and had beaten him. She had torn his illusions and his castle down around his pointed ears. The mortal won her brother back, and she won the love of the Labyrinth as well. The Labyrinth was alive and had a will of its own, as well as feelings that were a little peculiar. When Sarah had defeated it despite Jareth's trickery, it hadn't gotten angry. In fact, it adored the girl and missed her terribly. Jareth had spoken with its corporeal form many times since Sarah had left, and their relationship was much better for it. He understood it better than any other ruler before him, and the proof that it was happy with Jareth was in the massive maze itself. The walls were crystal instead of brick or sandstone and the paths had grown flowers. The trees and beasts were much tamer and healthier. Even the Bog of Eternal Stench had become clear and sweet –smelling.

In return, Jareth had summoned the most talented dwarf masons to rebuild his city and his castle. The outer wall was black crystal to appease the Labyrinth, but from there it went to marble. Most of the houses were white or gray marble with dark wood for the trimming and doors, and the paths were cobbled with brown, rough marble slabs. Tress and grass were everywhere they could be, vibrant swaths of green in a sparkling city. Eight long years later, the city and the goblins themselves were clean and respectable, and while his subjects could never be beautiful, they had become a handsome people. For once, they had both rulers caring for them, and it was glorious.

Jareth smiled to himself as he wandered the corridors of his home. He was content with his kingdom for the first time in centuries. The borders of his land were thrown open to all who were seeking sanctuary on the condition that they were worthy of it. As such, Jareth's duties had come to include interviewing candidates who were looking for a safe place to live, far from servitude or owed allegiance.

As to Sarah, well, he honestly didn't know. True, when she had rejected his offer, he had been at a loss. After all, the Labyrinth wasn't the only one to fall for the girl. He had looked in on her and her little brother often at first, but he hadn't felt the need or the compulsion to do so in quite some time, a couple years even. Today was one of those days he was tempted to look.

Jareth slowed and absently began rubbing his temples. Even now, years later, she gave him a headache. He chuckled at himself grimly. Here he was, a millennia and a half years old, with more political problems than you could shake a stick at; and he was worried about an old infatuation.

"Pathetic, Jareth. Simply pathetic." He muttered.

"Who is?" a gravelly voice interrupted his musings from down the hallway.

Jareth looked up to see his advisor and friend; Kithis strolling down the hall. Kithis was one of those outcast Fae who'd found his way to Jareth when the borders opened. He was tall and heavily muscled, with curly, flaming red hair and hazel eyes. He dressed like a mercenary: black trousers, boots, and shirt, and enough weapons to scare an army. Jareth had never seen him without them. There were twin daggers in his belt, another on his thigh, one in each boot, and a sword in a spine sheath. Somehow it was common knowledge that there were many more hidden about his person. On his arrival, he had promptly taken up the task of being Jareth's bodyguard, despite his new lord's protests. Over time, once he was sure that Jareth could take care of himself for the most part, he'd let the Goblin King appoint him as an advisor. It was certainly better than being interrupted during a bath because Kithis was afraid someone had drowned him.

Jareth smile ruefully. "I'm afraid I'm the pathetic one, my temperamental friend. We have problems and I am thinking of past follies."

"What problems?" with those two words, Kithis morphed into the warrior he'd had to become to survive. He stood relaxed, with his hands unconsciously close to the daggers in his belt. His hazel eyes scanned the hallway around him casually, but you could see how alert he was by the set of his broad shoulders.

"Easy my friend. Not now, but soon." Jareth soothed. "Come, I'll tell you about it on the way to my chambers. I am going to cancel the audiences today."

"I am not going to like this, am I?" Kithis asked as he fell in next to his friend.

"No, you're not." Their footfalls echoed through the hallway.

"Can I curse?"

Jareth sighed glumly. "You'll have to yell them over me or you aren't going to hear them. I fully intend on ranting like a lunatic."

"Done then."

"Sweet Magic! Those insolent cowards! Idiots! Deviants! Usurpers! Depraved, twisted, vicious morons!"

Kithis had been going on for about ten minutes or so, and Jareth was quietly amazed that he had that many insults without repeating himself. He had run out of insults after a three-minute tirade, but it seemed that his friend was much more inventive.

Finally, Kithis stopped yelling, either because he ran out of things to say or because he was too angry to say anything. He paced furiously around the large study, black clothing rustling and boots thumping heavily on the rug. He stopped abruptly and whipped around to face Jareth.

"I am coming with you to High Court." He growled.

Jareth grinned and inclined his head. "I would have it no other way. But will you be alright with…"

"My family? Oh yes. I doubt that they will recognize me. It was a wonder you did."

"So you wish to go in secret? It can be arranged."

Kithis plopped into a comfortable chair opposite of Jareth and sighed. "I think it would be for the best if they still believed I died in Schezarath." He ran his hands through his hair and snorted disgustedly. "I will have to either shave my head or dye it."

Jareth thought for a moment. He laid his head against the back of his chair and gazed at the supports on his dome ceiling. "Black would suit you. I could pass you off as a common servant."

Kithis snorted again. "I might actually be more useful in the service. I would certainly get better information. Household servants are notorious for knowing everything about everybody."

"Why do I get the feeling you've done this before? Wait. I don't want to know. I never do. I asked once and you told me and I still wish you hadn't."

"You're babbling, my lord."

"I know." Jareth went to run his hands through his hair but stopped when he remembered that he had cut it close to his scalp like his cousin. He settled for rubbing his temples instead. "I am so tired of our people Kithis. They are the spoiled children of Magic."

Kithis rose from his chair and gave Jareth a friendly clap on the back. "Don't worry. You'll get through this and so will the Underground. In the meantime," he suggested, "Why don't you go through those big double doors. Your bed is calling you, I am sure."

Jareth sighed and stood with a wince for cramped muscles. "You're right. Find Solaris for me, will you? Tell him I need to meet with him tomorrow." He began to go to his room but stopped cold, struck by a sudden thought. "Kithis, a personal question if I may?"

Kithis bowed cheekily, weapons and leather creaking from the flourish. "Ask and you shall be answered."

"Do you have someone…dear to you?"

Kithis abruptly lost his playful edge and a haunted look passed through his eyes, quickly replaced by something fierce. It was all the answer Jareth needed.

"Bring her to the castle, Kithis. The stakes are too high to guarantee safety outside my walls. Evil plots often involve innocents: I told Vladigar to bring Jaelis."

His friend looked stunned. "Would they really stoop so low?"

Jareth nodded grimly. "Too many "accidents" have happened to make me doubt it. She will be safer here." He softened his words with a smile to ease the panic in the warrior's face. She must be something indeed, if she could disarm such a hard man. "What is her name, just out of curiosity?"

"Yasvana."

Jareth caught his breath in surprise. Yasvana had been another outcast Fae that had come to his land some years ago. It had been clear from the moment she walked in the chamber that she had been badly abused. Thin, bruised, and haunted, she had barely been able to speak. Jareth had waived the audience and sent her to the healers. Since then, he had checked on her a few times, but she was so fragile around males with strong power that he had left her primarily alone. He had also found out what had happened to her and single-handedly cut down everyone involved with her torture.

"How-?" he began.

"She chose me. I still don't know why." Kithis explained as he looked at the ground. "I've never been happier. I'd do anything for her." His voice was unnaturally rough and Jareth marveled at the power of love. It was obvious that Kithis was in over his head and would give anything to stay that way.

"She'll be safe, I give you my word."

Kithis nodded and looked up at last, finally composed. He gave a lopsided grin and made a shooing motion. "Get to bed. Solaris will see you in the morning." He turned and walked quickly out of the study.

Jareth sighed and went into his bedchambers. With a thought, he changed into his nightclothes-which consisted of loose black trousers and laid down to sleep. It was nearly eight in the morning, but it couldn't be helped. The council with his cousin had taken more time than was expected. As he drifted off, resolving to wake in a few hours, he heard a faint voice in the back of his head.

It's not fair.

He smiled wryly and murmured "No it isn't."