A/N. Back to Jareth again. Parts of this chapter I didn't know were going to happen until they were on the page of my notebook. Then I just looked back at it all and went, huh, okay, let's just run with it. Hopefully there shall be more Hatter next chapter, once he'll actually sit down and tell me what and who are going into that scene.

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

White Marble And Sugar Cubes

The white marble of Marmoreal was blinding in the sunlight, and Jareth was almost certain it was not purely for aesthetical purposes, shielding his eyes as he continued to walk towards the main palace, feeling his way more than seeing, hoping that the fair White Queen had not seen fit to alter the paths again.

As it was though not only had the paths not changed, but it seemed as if nothing had changed, remaining instead frozen in time while the world outside had fallen down. Within the walls of Marmoreal nothing was any different from his last visit many years prior, everything was the same, right down to the bloodhound sitting on the steps, waiting. He half expected to turn and see the court milliner sitting under the tree teaching her apprentice more valuable tricks of the trade while McTwisp fretted over one thing or another that in the end would be of little consequence. The silly rabbit had been such fun to wind up.

The courtyard was empty though, no milliner, no rabbit and no troublemakers to ruin the hush, just one bloodhound who showed signs now of age that he had not in those past times, sleeping on the job even.

It was tempting to try and make the poor guy jump. After all, he was yet to get one over on Underland's sharpest nose, sneak up on him and surprise him, but the thought of a possible, final, victory was quickly discarded as Bayard opened one eye, fixing the monarch with a look he knew all too well, "Do not even think about it, Jareth."

"Spoil sport."

The bloodhound chose to ignore the childish retort, settling instead for stating the obvious: "You're late; Mirana is waiting in the tea room."

"Then I had best not keep the queen waiting any longer."

He bid Bayard farewell, letting him settle down to sleep, perhaps for real now in these more peaceful times. Yet, he could not help but think that if Bayard was still on guard duty then the queen was not as sure of her peace as the declarations proclaimed. It was a thought that made him all the more wary as he made his way through the palace, keeping an eye out for any other signs of discord no matter how small they may be, treading the familiar path to the tea room that looked out over the gardens, the queen's second favourite spot after the gardens themselves. At least that was what she said.

He found no other hints of danger in his travels, so either White Queen had hidden them well or he was jumping at shadows – a trick surely best left to the March Hare. However, the feeling could not be shaken as easily that, pushing open the door with thoughts of Tarrant and Bayard still prominent in his mind putting him on edge.

It took the Goblin King a moment, standing in the doorway of the large round room, to realise what he was seeing.

The White Queen was sat in her usual place by the window that had been left open to let in the gentle afternoon breeze, a fine bone china cup held delicately in one hand.

"Jareth," she greeted him, smiling, and her voice full of warmth. "You made it."

Across from the queen however was sat someone else, two someones if he was being accurate.

"About time too," Wiseman's hat chipped in, "The tea's gone cold!"

He shot the hat a dirty look before shutting the door and taking a seat, "Thank you, but I have already had tea."

"Your loss," was the quick, fully expected and completely ignored response.

The queen hid a brief smile behind her cup at the exchange, then, addressing the Goblin King returned to business, "Not that it is not good to see you again, but what brings you to Marmoreal?"

Feigning a hurt look he replied, "Can it not be I just wished for the pleasure of your company, dear Mirana?"

"You tend not to actively seek my company unless there is something you need, Jareth."

He gave his most charming and disarming smile even as his words betrayed his intent, "Reassurance then, that the decrees are true."

"Do you not trust my word?"

"Yours, yes, the word of the travelling mongrels of your sister's court not so."

He chose to give as much attention to her disapproving frown as he had the Wiseman and his hat.

"Their word is true. The Jabberwocky has been defeated and Iracebeth and the Knave of Hearts have been banished to the Outlands to be shown no kindness."

"I did not think you had it in you." He paused, thinking on his words before voicing them again. "Or, more, I did not think you would be able to follow through; you know as well as I how unforgiving the Outlands are."

"Yet you and your subjects continue to cross them."

She, in turn, had ignored his implications regarding her sister's likely fate at the hand of the desert elements. The thought was not one that settled well with him and his eyes drifted past her shoulder to the garden path behind, perhaps half hoping to see his friend ambling down it.

"And just look what has become of us," he glanced back at Wiseman and his hat, the former a gnarled, sleeping old man while the other was a bird that spoke too much, neither having any inclination towards anything resembling common sense. "And, speaking of my subjects," his voice took on a decidedly polite yet ice tone as he stared at the pair, quietly glad of the distraction. "Would you care to tell me what The Girl left behind?"

"The Girl?" the hat replied, faking innocence, albeit badly. "Which girl is that? We've seen many, Majesty."

The Wiseman began to snore and the White Queen returned to her rapidly cooling tea, watching the proceedings with barely concealed amusement.

"You know full well which girl, now what did she leave in you clearly less than capable care?"

"Just a contribution; no one works for free you know, not even him."

"And where is that contribution now?"

If it was possible for a being without shoulders to shrug then that was the only response Jareth received to his inquiry.

However, he had a very simply and often effective reply to that which he could use in turn: "Bog of Eternal Stench."

A cough caught both their attention, Wiseman's ancient bones creaking as he moved, blinking slowly at the two monarchs across the table from him as if trying to focus on what he was seeing.

"Time," he began slowly, the room falling silent as he spoke, "will tell."

Those were not the words Jareth had hoped to hear. Maybe he had been hoping for a nice simple handing over of the object in question, but then he was dealing with Wiseman so that had been unlikely from the start really, no matter how nice it would have been. This was even less welcome than the empty cup Tarrant had presented him with a few hours earlier, because everyone knew that the Wiseman's words had to be taken literally. Trying to understand them any other way simply did not work. Wiseman was as practical and blunt as he was measured and decrepit, confusing many runners over the years who assumed he was speaking in riddles. Riddles were the Hatter's forte, not the Wiseman's.

He sighed and asked the question he knew needed asking, no matter how tired the idea of it made him feel, "And what is Time doing with Sarah's belongings?"

"I do not know if that is what he meant," Mirana spoke up, her voice as calm as Jareth's was irritated, "Only that He can tell you where it is."

"That is still useless and–"

The Goblin King stopped himself before adding 'impossible', knowing that such concepts had no more place in Marmoreal than they did his own Labyrinth.

"It remains your choice, but…"

"Yes, I know."

Some would have found it strange for the king to be so reluctant to face a challenge, however, he was all too aware of what had happened the last time he and Time had crossed paths even if they were not.

He looked back at the Wiseman and his hat, the latter returning an incredibly bored gaze.

"Thank you," the king said smartly, picking up two sugar cubes from the dish on the table and depositing them in the ever present collection box the Wiseman carried, "for nothing."

"Same to you, Majesty," the hat answered back.

Wiseman's only response was to begin to snore again.

Jareth rolled his eyes, "Useless." Then, turning his attention back to the White Queen gave a wry smile, "It seems I must be on my way once more, I am glad to see that you are doing well."

"Good luck, Jareth," she replied, inclining her head and placing her cup down on the saucer. "Hopefully next time you are here it shall be for a longer visit?"

"I hope so, it has been too long," Jareth agreed, rising from the table and once again dusting himself down however useless a gesture it was, adding in a conversational tone, "I assume Hightopp shall be back at court soon."

Mirana's face split into a wide, relieved smile, "Thank you, Jareth."

"I did not do a thing, I merely stopped by for a cup of tea; no one else serves tea quite like it and I was in need of a drink after the long flight."

Excuses, all of it, and they both knew it, but appearance was everything even if there was no one around to witness it, and with no further reason to stay and more reasons to depart, the King of the Goblin's took his leave of the White Queen and her strange choice of company.

"Why did you not tell him?" she asked finally, watching the king walk back down the garden path and disappear between the trees.

"Because he never learns," the hat replied simply, "None of them do, they're a bunch of idiots, titles or no."

The queen laughed in spite of herself, knowing that if Jareth had heard them say such a thing then, well respected or otherwise and regardless of company, the hat, and consequently the Wiseman as well, would have found themselves hanging by their ankles for the insult. Some boys just never grew up.

She picked up the ring which had sat so innocently unnoticed on the white cloth beside her, turning it over in her hand and holding it up to the light, watching the sun reflect off the piece of cheep costume jewellery. It was not a piece of their world anymore than the pendent that had been found in the Room of Doors was theirs, yet it was a pretty little piece nonetheless.

"It's just for safekeeping," she said to no one in particular, tucking the trinket away, returning to her tea and thoughts of the retuning Hatter, "Nothing more."