Chapter Four
High Noon
Traveling at night, alone, would have been foolish for many.
But Sasha rather preferred moving then. Without the aid of sunlight and daytime vision, she could hear a walker's growl—or her own footsteps—from a greater distance. The occasional blanket of fog comforted her; returned her the smoke-choked structure fires she fought so often before. Before the change.
It wasn't so different, all things considered. Though the dangers were vastly different, the concept remained the same: one wrong move could result in a slow and painful death, but worse; her demise would weaken and jeopardize the team she fought to protect.
Tonight, fortunately, was not one of those.
Sasha checked her compass again, despite being sure of her direction. The Hilltop wasn't too far, but she couldn't wait until morning to see Maggie.
She had to see for herself. And Maggie needed the additional protection.
Sasha stayed on the path as much as she could, stepping slowly when she couldn't, to prevent twigs and branches snapping.
Fog built up as she continued. It puffed around shrubs and curled down tree trunks. Every so often a tendril cooled Sasha's cheek.
A shiver ran down her spine, but neither from fear nor cold.
She felt the weight of a predatory gaze behind her. Sasha froze stock-still and held her breath, crouched behind a fallen trunk. She inched her head over her shoulder, eyes scanning every shadow in the dark, each one more inky than the last. Highlighted only by silvery moonlight cast on oily leaves.
Nothing.
Sasha bit her lip, clenching her jaw to keep her breaths steady and quiet. She knew the presence that lurked in the darkness, the one that crouched in the fog and waited.
It wasn't a walker.
Jareth retreated to the court, where an elf from the High Council awaited him. Robed in amorphous black fur, her only embellishment was a navy and gold sash around her waist. Her pale skin and hair appeared to glow, even in the daylight cast into the court.
Jareth bristled. A visit from the High Council at this stage, by a trusted ambassador no less, did not bear good news. He stalked toward the throne.
"What do you want, Morna?" She may have represented authorities, but she was not them outright. Etiquette be damned.
Ever stoic, the elf watched Jareth with gentle interest. Her wide, dark eyes did not betray her non-threatening stance. Her only outward reaction to Jareth's attitude was a flexing of her long ears.
"The High Council has called an emergency convention for all rulers. Tomorrow at nightfall."
"May I ask the nature of the convention?"
"The influx of mortal newcomers has spread throughout the Underground, your Majesty," she answered. "The council considers it high time to discuss their plan of action."
"What is the current status of the other realms?"
Morna turned up a corner of her mouth, but it could have been either a wistful smile or a grimace.
"We are still assessing, but it seems as though the goblin kingdom is among the least affected. Some cities have been overtaken entirely and reorganized as refugee camps and natural citizens have been resettled temporarily. The High Council and immediate realms are cooperating to centralize the populations nearest to the palace grounds, but there have been...difficulties."
For the first time in centuries, Jareth thanked the goddesses that his realm was smaller and worse reputed than others. His thoughts briefly flickered back to his gardens.
"Please expand on these 'difficulties' you speak of."
Morna's ears flicked back and her mouth slackened. "Some realms have taken the mortals as prisoners and slaves. They have refused direct orders to release them. The council is concerned it may rankle diplomacy and certain alliances."
Jareth's chest swelled. Opportunistic he may be, but he would not exploit the refugees in his kingdom in such a way. Unless, of course, they submitted to his will—which all of them had. Mostly.
Toby was a possible exception to the rule. Yet, no rules stated another could be wished away without the intention of rescuing their subject. It would be far more interesting if there was such a requirement, as rules were no fun if they could not be manipulated and examined from every angle. Stretched and bent, perhaps.
"Those who have sought my kingdom have been generously offered opportunity to be productive, if not hopefully temporary, members of goblin society while they are here." Jareth supposed he would reveal Toby to the council another time. He decided that there was no reason for them to know if they did not expressly ask for a manifest.
Morna's eyes flickered, and then she bowed. "The High Council is pleased to receive this news, your Majesty. They recognize that despite your flaws—" Jareth scowled "—you are a fair and just ruler."
"Tomorrow at sunset, then?"
Morna nodded again, once. "We are grateful for your presence and cooperation in this matter. Until tomorrow."
She bowed again, then turned and exited the castle. Her heavy robes jostled and slid behind her.
The heavy tension that surrounded the pair during her visit dissipated once she had departed the grounds. Most goblins wasted no time in tapping another barrel of ale, whooping and hollering. Even the squawks and clucks of the chickens sounded different, like relief. Someone drunkenly strummed a detuned lute.
Jareth set foot toward his study. Toby no longer banged on the door and yelled, but Jareth could hear him grumbling inside.
Jareth decided to forgo the door entirely. He transported into the room, reappearing directly in front of his new prisoner. Toby swore loudly. His bonds creaked and groaned when he startled against them.
"Was that really necessary?"
Jareth would have forgiven the insolence if Toby hadn't muttered "glittery bastard" under his breath.
Jareth snarled. He materialized a crystal in his hand. His fist level with Toby's face, Jareth squeezed the crystal with a growl and superhuman snap of his hand. Shards exploded and narrowly missed him, as they faded into nothingness before reaching his eyes. Irridescent dust settled on Toby's nose.
"You will answer me when addressed or when I enter a room, most especially within my own castle."
Toby didn't flinch. His eyes bore into Jareth's equally intense stare. Despite that Toby's eyes were blue and not green, a memory flickered in the back of Jareth's mind: both he and Sarah's eyes glittered the same way when they swam with emotion.
Jareth squeezed his fist again, grinding some of the remains of the crystal. "Try again, Mister Williams."
Toby swallowed and set his jaw. "Understood."
"Understood, your Majesty," Jareth hissed, just centimeters from Toby's face. Toby's nostrils flared.
A long moment stretched as they stared each other down. The anger never abated from Toby's glare, silent darts of venom aimed right for Jareth.
Toby finally licked his lips. He spoke just above a whisper. "Yes, your Majesty."
Jareth smiled and clapped Toby on the shoulder, as though they were old friends. He tossed the remnants of the crystal upward, where they faded and disappeared into nothingness.
"Wonderful. Come with me, boy. We have much to do."
Toby's expression melted. From furious determination with hard lines and scrunched brows, his jaw slacked and shoulders slumped. However, he remained silent as Jareth opened the door and headed down the corridor without further instruction.
At high noon, Michonne pounded on Sarah's door.
"Toby missed his shift change. Have you seen him?"
Sarah counted her blessings for all those long days in the park reciting the countless plays and her hours in rehearsals and the training in college. Her career had never quite taken off before the change, but she did have experience acting. Enough to make things work.
She pulled on her best concerned-sister face and braced herself. She shook her head once with pursed lips. "Haven't seen him since this morning. I thought he was with you?"
"Did he say anything about going anywhere? For Negan?"
"No, I barely even saw him. He didn't really say anything."
Michonne nodded once. Her expression was unreadable as ever.
The casual pause in the conversation filled, crammed with the tension of the changes that had ransacked the community in the past few days. Michonne adjusted the strap of her katana and inclined her head. "Well, you know to…"
"I'll sound the word if I see him." As she wasn't a scout, Sarah knew than to offer to help look: that wasn't her job in the community.
Michonne turned and headed back toward the gate without anything further, her accouterment clanking as she went, glinting in the sun.
Sarah restrained herself long enough to shut the door without slamming it. Her knees suddenly weak, she slumped on the floor and buried her head in her knees.
Rick called a town meeting at dusk.
Despite the summer heat, a chill slunk over the walls and into the shadows, lengthening by the minute as the sun set.
News had spread of Toby's disappearance. Everyone filed into the patio with slumped shoulders and dejected murmurs. Most of the faces bore blank expressions. Missing persons weren't a new thing.
Rick cut to the chase.
"Toby's missing. We need to figure out where he is before Negan does. Who has his last sighting this morning?" His long drawl stretched the words wide and weighed them down, like fresh taffy on a pulling hook. Sarah felt as though she had cotton stuffed in her ears, blocking it out, pulling the words and twisting them to mean something else.
"Sarah said the last time she saw him was this morning around seven, but we don't have anything confirmed after that," Michonne supplied. She scanned the crowd, her dark eyes sharp and searching. "Does anyone have any other time on him?"
Sarah's heart twisted and she screwed her mouth tight. She swallowed to dissolve the lump in her throat, but only succeeded in pushing more tears out. In the normal world, before the change, Sarah would have been the prime suspect. But here, when everything was different and nothing was guaranteed, people went missing all the time. And more would disappear if fingers started pointing right away. Committing a perfect crime was sometimes the only way to protect the survival of the group.
In all her life, Sarah could count on one hand the number of true crimes she had committed. On two fingers, even.
Both involved surrendering Toby.
She jumped when a hand brushed her shoulder.
"You okay?" Sasha appeared next to her, her brow furrowed. Her dark eyes were hard and intense, but that meant nothing: Sasha was always on edge, always alert.
Sarah fumbled with the zipper of her coat. "I'm sorry. I'm, um…" She blinked again, tears clouding her vision. "I went downstairs to do some chores, and then took another nap before duty, so I didn't see or hear him leave. He was getting dressed when I saw him last."
Sasha sat down and wrapped an arm around Sarah's shoulders as they shook The pouring tears released some tension in Sarah's chest, but not enough—she would swap one guilt for the other.
The group discussed and pieced things together, but the conclusion settled all too quickly: Sarah was the last person to see Toby, and he hadn't told anyone where he went. The consensus was that he had pulled a Carol and unwittingly walked into one of Negan's many traps.
"I don't want to lose any more people," Rick sighed. "But we can't leave Toby out there. Not after what happened. Negan can take our supplies, but he will not have any more of our people."
Murmurs of both encouragement and dissent rumbled through the crowd. Though every remaining person in camp was present, it still felt empty without Glenn and Abraham.
And Toby.
Sarah stared at the garden entrance, where Toby often perched during town meetings. What did I do?
Like so many of the others before her, his fate would remain unknown. Sarah didn't know if he would ever be able to complete the task she set forth for him, or if it was all in vain. She didn't want to think about what might have happened to him if he had either not yet found the Goblin King or that he was less merciful than she hoped he would have been.
Sarah's tears dripped, hot with regret and anger at herself, and she hung her head low. Just like the first time, as a selfish teenager, she had not fully considered the consequences of her actions, and now more of the team would risk themselves to chase something that didn't exist.
She just wanted Toby to be safe and away from this awful place.
Rick, Michonne, and Gabriel discussed a few logistics, and, finally, the meeting adjourned.
The crowd filed out, shuffling back to their houses. Yawns and resigned heavy sighs replaced the usual chatter. Gabriel and Eugene extinguished the fire, alternating pouring water and stirring the ash. The embers hissed as they worked. The carbon-heavy smoke stung her eyes.
"Sarah."
She caught Rick's gaze. "You'd better get to bed."
Rick held his stare for a moment longer, and then simply turned and left the garden, flanking Eugene and Gabriel.
Toby wasn't sure exactly what the Goblin King had in mind when he was released, but going on a horseback ride would not have occurred to him. Jareth hadn't divulged much about their destination; mostly alluded to something about a council.
The gentle rhythm of his steed's pace and the familiar scent of saddle leather would have comforted Toby in most other situations. To a degree, he felt some reclamation of autonomy when grasping the reins and anchoring his feet in the stirrups—things he knew and remembered from the old world, or the Aboveground as Jareth had called it. From wherever Sarah had sent him from. Toby knew full well that the horses would obey Jareth, but the knowledge that if he had to, he could redirect and choose another path soothed his frayed nerves.
Toby followed Jareth down the path. The grass had been worn down to dirt, but a moderately dense canopy intertwined overhead, anchored by an outer border wall of the labyrinth. If one did not notice the unique flora (the eye-lichen's quiet coos, in particular, sent a shiver up Toby's spine), or Jareth's gravity-resistant hair, Toby would have thought that he was on his way back home. To Alexandria.
Instead, he trailed behind a creature who ruled over goblins as subjects, in a place he still did not quite believe existed, en route to an event he would not have ever conceived on his own. Even the clothes he wore seemed unbelievable—a simpler, duller take on the outfit Jareth wore when Toby first entered the court hours before. The rough stitching and comparatively modest cuts led him to believe that they were last-minute mockups or rejected designs, left to sit in a forgotten wardrobe. Still, they fit Toby better than anything he had worn recently.
They rode for a long while.
"I believe we have started off on tense terms."
Jareth's calm tone startled Toby more than the broken silence. He squinted and clenched his jaw. Although Jareth remained facing forward, Toby harbored no illusion that his reaction went unnoticed.
"You could say that."
"I'm sure you noticed there are several humans currently taking refuge within the labyrinth's walls."
"I'm more curious about the horses." Toby remembered the gaunt faces of the others he had seen on his way to the castle and their exhaustion. He didn't know their stories, but he wasn't quite ready to find out. He knew enough, and probably more than the Goblin King did, about what led them to the Underground.
Jareth pulled back on his reins to allow Toby to catch up. "It is not just humans who are wished away."
"But why are they not…?" Toby struggled to find the right words.
"Transfigured into goblins?" Jareth supplied. He waved a hand dismissively. "You will learn in time, but there are many paths and seats of belief that lead all living things here, mortal or otherwise. Animals are inherently innocent creatures just as human children, but most often they were willed here for selfless reasons, unlike a situation such as your sister's. Human and fae alike have a responsibility toward domesticated species."
Toby bristled at the not-so-subtle undercurrent in Jareth's voice. "You think humans are inferior to your kind." It wasn't a question.
Jareth only smiled, broad and triumphant.
Toby didn't press further—it was no use arguing with his captor. However, Jareth seemed willing to answer questions—Toby assumed probably to also ask a few of his own—and he wanted to confirm his suspicions from earlier.
"Did Sarah wish me away?"
"Yes."
"So, she won?"
"Correct."
"How many others?"
Jareth considered Toby before responding. His mouth set in a firm line. He remained silent for a long moment, so long that Toby began to doubt he'd get an answer.
"No one."
They fell back into silence. Toby passed the time by silently counting fairies, like a magical version of the slug-bug game. As he looked around, familiar scratches and spots on his lenses no longer clouded his vision: even his glasses were different.
The Goblin King seemed content enough to simply walk. Toby couldn't get a read on his expression or posture; it all remained perfectly neutral. Their pace never changed, the horses plodded along and never stopped or even nickered at each other. They ambled as though they had no destination. Without his thoughts, Toby might have fallen asleep. He strained to hear an occasional chirp of a songbird, and he couldn't identify the squeaks of any insects. He wondered if Jareth did the same.
Sarah had told Toby so many variations of the labyrinth story to him so many times that he had memorized her description of the Goblin King by rote.
"He has the same human features like you and I," she'd begin. "He has a mouth and a nose, and bright blue eyes. His hair is silvery blond. But there is is something so special about him that, even if he would wear human clothes, everyone would know he was different." Sarah would play with her own features, pointing at her eyes or tugging her ears.
"You can feel his eyes pierce right through when he looks at you. His hair is long, but it grows in all directions—definitely something Dad wouldn't approve. His cheeks and nose and teeth are all sharp in a way that gives you a chill—he's a predator. His skin shimmers in the right light. He wears gloves to cover his hands, legend says a mere human can't handle the magic and so he protects the children in his care like this, with the gloves, so he doesn't touch their bare skin.
"When he smiles," Sarah pulls on her own cheeks, then, wide and comical, "It's for his own enjoyment. He doesn't smile because he wants you to see his beauty—he grins because he knows you already have."
Watching him, now, Toby couldn't help but give Sarah the benefit of the doubt. She was spot-on.
Many hours later, the sun high in the sky, Jareth and Toby the central lands of the realm.
"I still don't understand why I have to come with you. I have nothing to do with this. I didn't even come here of my own will."
"I have already explained it to you and I will not do it again. Do not test my patience and good will. Your sister asked a favor of me, and I intend to make good honor on it."
Toby snorted. "Yeah, for your own bargaining power."
"I do not deny it, but nor am I an evil person—" Jareth glanced over to see one of Toby's own brows arching, "—despite what Sarah may have said of me."
"I don't really have any comment."
"Such a pity. Just as spoiled as your sister was—and I suspect, still is. You are taking all of this for granted."
"Oh? And how is that?" Toby thrust his nose in the air proudly, as he had seen Sarah do so many times before.
Jareth threw his head back and guffawed. "Oh come now, Toby, you know you are not so naive and simple as that. However foolish her actions may have been, I'd measure that Sarah wished you away—again—to protect you and save your life."
"I was doing just fine myself there. We had a home, shelter. Our community was strong."
Though he had stepped ahead of Toby again, there was no mistaking the tossing back of his head when Jareth rolled his eyes.
"You may be even more fortunate, then, than you realize. Many of those who have sought refuge here faced dire circumstances."
"You haven't been up there or knew what was going on, you can't say that you know. You haven't lived it."
"All the same, you are safe now, and that is unlikely to change."
Toby pulled back on his horse, stopping in the track. His knees shuddered and he felt the color drain from his face when the weight of those words slapped him. "What does that mean?" A hint of panic trembled in his voice. "I can't go back? I won't see Sarah again?"
"I do not have a definite answer for that, Toby. It is in fact, one of the reasons we are attending the council today. The channels between the Above and Undergrounds do not run freely like a highway. With such an influx of mortals, the border is strained, and, unlikely to release others anytime soon. It is likely that the only way to see your sister again is if she also wishes herself away."
Jareth turned his steed back around and continued. "And I sincerely doubt she would do that. She would have to mean it."
Toby wanted to ask what Jareth meant, but he was too afraid to hear the answer. Not yet.
They fell back in silence.
Rick knocked on Sarah's door just after curfew. He shuffled his feet, his eyes downcast and hands on his hips. The darkness of nightfall behind him seemed to diminish every word. "We talked about it."
Sarah remained in the doorway, staring at him, silent.
"You're gonna come with us."
For all of her desire to be an actor as a child, Sarah abysmally lacked any natural talent in day to day life. If she had time to study a character, learn the script, and rehearse—she could fool any person in the room. But among her family and friends, she could not even crack a joke without someone calling her bluff.
So when her heart rose to her throat, immediately followed by her stomach, Sarah surprised herself—her expression did not change.
"I think it's time to take you out there again. You know Toby better than anyone," Rick continued. "And if we lost him, well, we'll need another set of capable hands around—" he paused, turning and pretending to wipe something off from his stubble.
"We leave first thing tomorrow. Be ready." Despite the guilt piercing her heart, Sarah managed a nod and closed the door.
Her mind raced. She didn't know what to do. Run back after Rick and tell him it was all fine, she'd just surrendered her brother to a man far more dangerous than Negan could hope to be, and oh, by the way, that man is a magical being that most people have never heard of, and she had only met him once? Thirty years prior?
Or, the alternative: feign ignorance and march shoulder to shoulder alongside them as they searched high and low for absolutely nothing but almost definitely certain death.
Sarah blinked again and again, diminishing tears, as she double checked her pack. The morning was cool, humid, but not frigid. Still, her hands trembled.
Through the fog, Rick's bow-legged limp crunched on the gravel as he led the group to the main compound gate. Amid her distress, Sarah recognized the intention in his movements; though his eyes and speech remained distant and cold, he was focused on this rescue mission.
Sarah's stomach lurched. She swung her pack onto her back and squeezed the straps tightly to stop her hands.
Don't go. Don't open the gate. We're going to die.
Rick nodded toward her. "Ready?"
Toby could already be dead.
Sarah nodded, swallowing the bitter sting of bile in the back of her throat.
Sasha approached them, her rifle in hand at the ready. "I'm good. Let's go." She nodded to Spencer, high up in the gate tower, and yanked on the gate. It screeched and cawed, the frequencies bouncing off the quiet stillness of the dawn. Everyone flinched and nesting birds took flight.
Sarah almost choked on the stench of death and rot when she stepped out. She supposed the guards and regular runners had grown accustomed to it. It didn't permeate everything, but the heady scent lingered just within perception.
Sasha shrugged. "You get used to it. It's worse on the muggy days. It's not as bad once we leave the gate. Out there."
They walked in silence, Rick several steps ahead. The dawn sun blazed, bright and alert. Each step felt heavier to Sarah. She thought of Toby, struggling through the labyrinth's puzzles, wondering why his sister would send him there.
Another step; she imagined meeting a group of Saviors and meeting Negan and Lucille.
The steps weighed more and more as they walked toward the intersection. Sarah pushed to keep up, to not fall back.
What if Jareth had found Toby, and exacted revenge?
Why were they walking towards their doom? Sarah chewed her lip. The guilt anchored her, sinking her further, and still, she kept walking. Marching them all to their demise.
It was too much for Sarah. She could not subject the remainder of her comrades and fellow townsfolk to this fate. As guilty as she felt that she lured anyone out of the compound, Sarah felt eternally grateful it was just two of them that accompanied her.
She had to do the right thing. But what could she say? She struggled with herself.
You really fucked this one up, big time.
The trio paused when they reached the intersection of the highway and private road. Sasha flanked them, her eyes and rifle point always moving, scanning the brush and horizon
"Which way would Toby have gone?" Rick tilted his head, bowing it to meet Sarah's gaze. He kept his voice low, his face close to hers.
Don't make any noise, Sarah recalled from Glenn's training. They're attracted to noise. Distracted by scent.
Before she could answer, a bush rustled and a walker growled to her left, hidden in the shadows. Sasha shouldered Sarah back with the hilt of her rifle and beelined for the brush. Rick pressed his finger to his mouth and crouched, pulling Sarah down with him.
The walker's stench of putrid, sour flesh preceded its appearance from the bush. Sarah was relieved she did not recognize its face, nor the bloody and tattered clothes hanging off its form. With wiry, sun bleached shoulder length hair and a lithe frame, she could not even tell if it had originally been male or female.
Sasha whistled lowly, just enough to attract its attention and divert it. When it lumbered around and changed direction, Rick wasted no time. The walker fell to the ground when the knife squelched when the knife speared its brain stem.
Rick turned around as he flung the carrion from his knife blade. "Which way?"
Sarah stared at him. Blood pounded and rushed in her ears. Her pulse pounded against her eardrums; her wrists; her femoral. Her whole body rushed.
Now or never, Williams. Speak up or get out.
Rick awaited a response while Sasha canvassed the intersection.
Stop it, Sarah. Stop it now. Tell them!
Sarah raised her arm and pointed south.
"That way. He would have gone that way."
Jareth and Toby arrived at the High Palace just as the sun began its descent. Jareth did not think of or look twice at the massive, swirling structure as they approached. The highest towers reached several stories, dwarfing Jareth's own homely castle. A wall built of knotted tree roots and ancient masonry circled the massive fortress.
Massive gates of twisted iron and gold leaf silently swung forward as they approached. Elven footmen awaited Jareth's dismount inside, dressed similarly to Morna the day before, but robed in pale silver instead of black.
The same elf that interrupted Jareth's court the day before appeared. She bowed gracefully. "We are most pleased to meet again, Your Majesty." She turned to Toby. "I do not believe we have been introduced."
Toby reached forward to shake her hand, but Jareth task and grasped his wrist. "This is Toby Williams. He is mortal. Their custom is to shake hands when meeting a new acquaintance."
Morna's eyes widened and her ears twitched. She did not say anything further, and instead, she stepped away to greet another arriving sovereign. Her robes rustled as she shuffled past.
Toby looked over his shoulder as she retreated, and Jareth led them toward the fortress. "What—who was that?"
"You will see. Do not initiate contact or conversation with anyone unless addressed first."
"You could have told me that before."
"Yes." But Jareth chose not to. They both knew it.
"I still don't understand why we are here."
"As you mortals say, patience is a virtue. Quiet yourself until I instruct you otherwise."
Before long, Jareth and Toby were seated in a massive circular court. Dozens of rows both above and below them, filled to the brim with sovereign leaders and their many servants, heirs, and offspring. Some wore capes and crowns, or furs. Toby thought he may have spotted a modern Aboveground suit. Some creatures were not humanoid at all—scaly or furred, or even amorphous. The room buzzed with chatter and clanking jewelry and armor. Jareth's own pendant loudly clanged against his chest plate as they both twisted to look around.
"What is this, the United Nations or something?"
"Something like that. Our political structure is a bit more simple, but it is a similar idea. There is a single executive High Court, and within it a subcomittee known as the Council. Each kingdom within may have its own unique structure, but politically speaking, we each carry equal weight."
Toby turned back and narrowed his eyes. "What you mean to say is that you're a small fry. You don't even have an heir or a queen."
Jareth whipped his head back to face Toby. In one swift motion grabbed his mouth. Toby's lips, comically puckered into a caricature of a kiss, flexed and squeezed. Jareth squeezed as tightly as he dared without fracturing the boy's jaw. "You will remember your place, most especially when you are ignorant of fact and know not of what you speak."
Jareth held Toby like that for an uncomfortably long time, long enough that others around them blinked over with curiosity. Toby fidgeted and pulled once. Jareth tightened his grip further.
Sarah had been sassy, to be sure, but Toby had observed his sister all too well and learned her tricks. Jareth supposed Toby was possibly more intelligent and insubordinate than she. While he enjoyed a challenge, and that was most intrigued him about Sarah, this was not what he had in mind as a reward for having put up with her insolence those years ago; a smart-mouthed brother with even less grasp of reality and humility than Sarah possessed.
"You will not speak again unless spoken to."
Their faces uncomfortably close, just a mere few centimeters between noses. Toby squeaked and sputtered something. Jareth mercifully accepted it as his assent.
He released Toby's jaw with one last fling. Toby remained silent and did not make further eye contact with Jareth, only rubbing his sore mouth and sulking in his seat.
The crowd settled and the Council appeared. A panel of five elders clad in robes of dark but royal hues of purple, green, navy, burgundy, and gray silently shuffled to the center of a dais before the court. A rumble of hushes cascaded across the room as the crowd quieted. The elders remained standing. In unison, they nodded once, their faces obscured by their hoods.
Jareth watched Toby in his periphery, stiff and straight-backed.
The Council did not waste time. They took turns speaking, one immediately following the next. Even with his sharp vision, Jareth could not see the faces underneath the cloaks and could not discern which elder spoke at any given time.
"As you know, we have a situation."
"It has reached dire levels."
"Mortals are wishing themselves away in droves."
"They claim they are escaping apocalypse in the Aboveground."
At this, several sovereigns chuckled and snorted in disdain. The elders raised their left hands and pointed upwards.
"Silence! This is no laughing matter."
"We cannot mistreat these refugees; they are our allies in The Balance."
Around the room, the same monarchs who laughed a moment before coughed uncomfortably.
"We believe the Balance has been upset, and that the Source has been tainted."
Gasps sounded throughout the chamber. Even Jareth raised his eyebrows and drew his mouth into a tight line. This is not good.
Toby shifted in his seat and turned his head around. He remained cautious and attentive to his surroundings, Jareth noticed, trying not to draw attention to himself and gawk at the upset and rumble around him. He avoided Jareth's gaze. Good, he thought. The dolt is learning.
The Council did not call for silence this time. When the din quieted, they resumed their speech.
"It is imperative that you care for your refugees as your own subjects."
"We hope to not have to remind you what damage may wreak upon your kingdoms if the Balance is compromised and its most vulnerable subjects meet injury and illness."
"Therefore we order that any prisoners are freed at once."
Jareth breathed a sigh of relief. He had not always seen eye to eye with the High Court or Council (literally had not, he huffed, with those blasted dark hoods) and did not welcome interference from them in addition to the headache of solving the refugee crisis. Knowing that, aside from Toby—a special case—that he held no unwilling prisoners made the process much easier for the labyrinth and the Goblin City.
"We have also determined who will lead a task force to venture Aboveground and attempt to correct the Balance and cleanse the Source," they continued in their booming drone.
In true Council fashion, they did not hesitate to call the names of those they had chosen. Jareth mused they really did not have the time to spare, forgoing several long rituals.
The atmosphere shifted and the silence became deafening, roaring with the blood rushing in each attendee's ear.
"Jareth, King of the Goblins."
This time, Jareth did drop his jaw. He stood at once. His chair teetered behind him.
"I object!" he protested. "I cannot leave my kingdom. Unlike several other opportunists who seek nothing but to exploit and profit from their newfound citizens, I have welcomed my refugees with open arms and the community has embraced them. I have no heir or partner to take my place."
All five hoods turned toward him. "It is not negotiable, Your Majesty," they announced in unison. Together, their voices resonated the entire hall and shook the ground under everyone's boots. "You will go."
"Who will rule in my stead?" The sinking feeling that they could volunteer themselves crept into his mind. His blood cooled at the thought.
The goblin kingdom was not the mightiest, nor the most advanced, but Jareth took great pride in its most precious resource: raw magic. That the goblins were known for their hardiness and resourcefulness despite their stupidity had much to do with his leadership and determination. For all its flaws, the labyrinth had turned from a laughingstock to a revered and respected element of the Underground.
Jareth would war to protect it. He would not abandon it. Not after Sarah had all but destroyed it. Not after all the work he had committed to rebuild it.
"Foolish king."
"Toby Williams, you will stand now."
Jareth opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. A single gasp, deep and scandalous, resounded through the hall.
Of course, Jareth knew he should have known better. He pompously dragged the boy along and proudly announced him to the elf representative; not only would the Council have known that he was present, but that Jareth had divulged Toby's surname, known precisely who he was.
Toby, hyperventilating, shoved his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and slowly rose from his seat.
Murmurs rumbled again throughout the chamber.
"He looks nothing like his sister."
"He looks exactly like Sarah."
"That is the heir? The brother of the Champion?"
"Of course he is a mortal. His hideous spectacles give it away. Such an ugly thing."
"Well, I never!"
Toby's mouth floundered and fluttered open, then shut, then open, and shut again. He glanced at Jareth, watery eyes wide and pleading.
The Council interrupted the din before Jareth could respond. Without the vocal command, their hands simply raised. The congregants complied and slowly returned to their seats. Some muttered amongst themselves, shaking their heads. Beads, feathers, and metal fastenings rustle and clanked as they clucked and tsked.
"Tobias, The Stolen Heir of the Labyrinth, you will serve as the interim leader in Jareth's absence."
Toby finally found the breath to speak. "What?"
His eyes darted between the ominous hoods and his captor. His brows knitted and his face hardened, contorting into fury.
"I'm the heir of what?"
Oh, my god. You guys. Have no idea how long I pored over this chapter. I would stare at it for weeks, months on end, groaning and pecking at it. It was so disorganized and just a total mess and I finally had an epiphany with it and whipped it all into shape within twenty-four hours. That is in no small part to my beta, glasshibou, who turned the whole chapter around within an hour (so blame her for any errors :) I had grand plans to post Chapters 4, 5, and 6 all at the same time, but this one was finished so quickly once I got the ball rolling, I just needed you to see it right away!
This chapter originally pushed 10k, but I felt there were too many things going on, and so some of it has been bumped to Chapter Five. The good news is that the next few chapters are much better organized (no plotty useless dinner scenes...yikes) and will take far less time to make readable and revise for you.
Thank you so much for reading and subbing this fic! I welcome any and all comments or food sacrifices, like bottles of pinot gris and/or cold brew coffee.
It will not be another ten months before I update this! Mark my words!
(it might be nine. Kidding. Mostly.)
