Oh, What A Circus.

Requiem Aeternum

AN-

So I've fallen short on my other stuff. Hopefully not for too much longer but I've found myself caught up in Labyrinth everything. I've been browsing Deviantart, reading fic, watching the movie…My veins are tingling with muse.

I'm slightly nervous to post this, I'm learning a LOT about the fandom just from fics and I have to say, I don't know jack squat about Fae. I've tried to read a bit but my brain is overflowing and so, I hope I can safely start this and take some of the pressure off before I read anymore.

That all said, please be gentle. Constructive criticism is nice and I will try very hard to use it to my advantage. Reviews in general are nice too. I'm not trying to be an idiot here so if you see something that's just wrong, please let me know somehow.

The story title and chapter titles are all references to the musical Evita, which I am somewhat fixated on right now. No worries, Sarah will not be making any poignant, musical speeches from balconies in this story.

When the arrangements had been made for the funeral, he had mostly tuned everything out. After all, that sort of thing was the duty of her husband, not his. Even as much as Jareth loved her, he didn't feel any responsibility toward deciding on how she should be mourned and, later, remembered. Not until he stood, solemn as stone in the silly profession down the streets of Exules. The coffin was black, and adorned in Jareth's father's standard, and it seemed an all too bleak end to such a lovely, vibrant life.

Of course, nothing about her death seemed fitting at all, in retrospect.

One of his sisters approached, and tucked her arm in tightly with his. They exchanged brief glances, her eyes full of unshed tears, her face stained with the ones she had shed earlier. And she smiled tightly, trying to seem brave for him. It made him return the smile and he scooped her close to kiss her forehead, and she sighed with relief, glad to see him show some emotion. Some closeness to his family in this bleak hour.

As they approached the place they would lay her to rest, Jareth's grasp on Levanna's arm tightened considerably. He was no stranger to death. And in the past he had worked in a sort of symbiotic way. After all, as an immortal with only a few weaknesses, death was not a great concern to him. Today, however, changed that. He and Levanna, as well as his other two sisters, joined their father. He was dressed in his military best, and his face was tired, and showed some of his distress. But he didn't shed a tear in such a public way.

Jareth took the High King's side to stand at the foot of his mother's grave. And he held two of his sister's hands as they gazed ahead at the mausoleum with it's door wide open as if to say, "Come right on in!" The thought tore him briefly, and he glanced away, listened to the High Priest speak and listened to his sister's sniffles. The cry of a baby alerted them all to the nanny near them and the siblings all gazed over at the carriage that she was swaying in a desperate attempt to quiet the babe. Their brother. The new heir to the Goblin Kingdom and next in line behind Jareth to the High Throne.

The girls were not sure what to do and truth be told, neither was Jareth. But they all looked up at their father questioningly when the babe would not be consoled. He hadn't budged, or blinked. Stood straight and tall, his eyes on the mausoleum as the Priest, unphased, continued the burial ceremony. The pallbearers slipped the coffin inside, and he only reacted ever so briefly, squeezing his eyes when the heavy, stone door was closed behind the coffin.

Everyone was whispering by now. The crowds outside the cemetery were a steady mix of mourners singing a lament and others who were sobbing at the loss of their beloved High Queen. And between all that and the sad group within the funeral party, the indifference on his father's face and the screaming infant who had taken his cherished mother away from him, Jareth had had just about enough. The girls were trying to ignore the baby, and he clearly would not be ignored. The Goblin King moved to the black buggy in two quick strides and lifted the boy from it's safe warmth. It was a chilly day, and so he lifted the infant against his chest and lay a blanket over him to shield him from the wind, bouncing him while he patted his little back, and in moments, the crying ceased.

The funeral ended shortly thereafter and everyone returned to the procession as they had come into it. The High King did not look at Jareth now. He kissed his beloved daughters and carried on. And Jareth sighed, still bopping his younger brother about to keep him calm.

"Daddy did not even glance over…"

"Not even in your eyes, Jareth."

"Come off it," Their brother seethed. "Mother gave her life giving life to him, he's not going to warm up to him very quickly."

"The doctor suspects this loss will kill him. You'll be High King by year's end."

Jareth shook his head handing the now sleeping babe back to his nanny. "Well I certainly hop not, Levanna. I'm not at all prepared for that. I wasn't supposed to ascend the throne for another five hundred years."

"Well," Ellome was the eldest of all of the children, followed by Levanna, then Jareth, then Maribella and finally, the new little Prince Eowne. "I suggest you work a little harder to prepare, little brother. We can't have a High King without…" But she paused, frowning, recalling her father walking on his own ahead of them all. "Never mind."

"Well done," Jareth muttered. He didn't dare approach their father just now, but his annoyance at his sister was inescapable. He had dawdled on finding a bride, had had his heart set on one particular woman, a mortal woman. There were no laws against it, and his mother had often encouraged him to seek her out, but he would always find himself staring through her window, unable to break the threshold between them. Seeing her happily living her days with her family.

But it had been five years since she had set foot in the Underground. Jareth was certain that if she had ever had had second thoughts about leaving this place…leaving him, they would be long forgotten by now.

They returned to the High Palace, where the court members would stay for the week before returning to their respectful right places. Jareth and his sisters would probably stay a little longer. The rest of the crowd scattered off to mourn at home. As they slipped into the warm residence, the nanny hurried off with the baby and the High King retired off to bed, the walk from the palace to the cemetery and back too much of an effort in his fragile state.

The girls saw to him over the next hour as Jareth sulked about the structure. Slipping upstairs he paused outside of the nursery, where the nanny had laid down the little Prince and hurried to prepare herself something to eat. The door was ajar and Jareth could see his small brother was asleep with his little fists shivering over top of him. He frowned slightly, and peaked both ways down the hall before stepping inside. He crept as lightly as he could, and bent over the crib to peak at the little Fae. She had been advised against the pregnancy, she was middle-aged, and the risks were great. Everything had gone well and the entire family had sighed with relief until she went into labor only to learn that the babe was breach.

Jareth had never longed for the technology of the aboveground as he did that day. Even their most trusted healer could not save her from the blood loss that the operation caused. And ever since her death, the baby had been regarded by his father and sisters as some sort of small evil. He couldn't help but feel great disdain toward them because of it. Their mother had loved him without ever having held him in her arms. There had been talk just before the funeral that one of the girls would drown him quietly, and Jareth had threatened to drown whoever did in the bog. It wasn't what she would have wanted. And Jareth had treasured their mother's wishes.

He bent to lift the blanket over the infant more fully, and his shivering ended, and Jareth watched with a dull ache in his heart as he smiled. A week old and a charmer already. "You look like her, you know." Hid finger grazed the younger prince's cheek. "I did too. So you're going to be quite handsome when you're older."

He was suddenly aware of a presence at the door and suddenly felt that he needed to shield the babe, stepping to block the intruder's view of his innocent, sleeping form. "If you've come to do any harm…"

"No, Jareth."

The Goblin King gave a start, glancing over his shoulder. His expression immediately fell. "Father, I…"

The High King approached, his hands folded regally behind his back, his eyes soft, but still very sad. "No, my son. No harm shall come of him." He stood a few paces back from Jareth but gazed at the babe nonetheless. "But I just don't know if I can…"

"Are you ill, father?"

"Not enough to die," There was an odd sarcasm to what he said. "But my heart is very ill. I had hoped when you left for the Goblin City…" He paused, and continued after a beat. "I had hoped you would take him. And raise him as your own, for a while."

Jareth hesitated only momentarily, nodding slightly. "Well, yes. I will. If it pleases you." His eyes fell back to his brother. Jareth had enough experience with babies, as sad as his job as the Goblin King was. But Goblins would be snatching wished away babies no matter what. Better to regulate them and see that they gave the children to Fae couples that could not have any.

"Good, good. " His father patted his shoulder before walking away. He paused at the door. "You know Jareth, I think more than anything she would have liked to have seen your wedding day." He sighed. "There's something for you, from her. In your pocket." And with that, he left.

Jareth blinked past uncharacteristic tears and took a deep breath, gathering himself before he reached into his pocket and found his mother's ring, wrapped in flower petals. Clutching it tightly, he swept from the room to order the nanny to start to pack Eowne's most necessary things so that they could leave by week's end. He had a lot of work to do. He wasn't sure how long it would all take him, but he decided there, with the cool metal warm in his fingers that he needed to stop sitting by idly.

It was time for him to take action.