Jareth and his goblins and his labyrinth still belong to Jim Henson... I'm just borrowing them.

Chapter 3

Nivienne woke to find herself tucked into one of the beds in the Glade of Healing. She ached all over but, upon examining herself, could feel no trace of the poison that had been wracking her body before she passed out. Looking to the side, she saw her blue gown draped over the small trunk by her bed. While she had been unconscious, one of the lesser healers must have cleaned it and changed her into the cream-colored linen shift and forest green dressing gown she now wore.

She leaned back into her plush pillows and sighed. Hopefully someone would come by soon, so she could see how the ranger was doing; she also needed to find out if one of the lesser healers had finished the ranger's treatment in her absence.

The rustle of fabric in the wind brought her out of her thoughts. Looking up, she saw a tall Fae, about her age step in holding a tray of food in his gloved hands. He wore a white poet's shirt, open at the chest, form fitting gray breeches, and black boots. He was tall and well built with wild, pale blond hair that appeared to have been whipped about by a fierce storm. His eyes glittered with something indefinable, obviously capable of great mirth, but also great coldness. Right now, they held something closer to mirth, and upon closer inspection, Nivienne saw that they were two different colors; one was a clear sky blue, while the other was a deep brown with streaks of green.

This Fae bowed slightly at the waist as he entered, a feat made slightly difficult by the tray laden with various breakfast foods.

"I caught one of the healers coming to give this to you. As I was going to see you anyway, I offered to take it while they went to care for the boy you healed yesterday."

Nivienne smiled shyly in thanks as she reached up and took the tray and inclined her head towards the trunk.

"I thank you… Would you care to sit? I'm afraid that the trunk is the closest thing to a chair in here."

The young man smiled in return - a lopsided smile... closer to a smirk, actually - and, after carefully moving her dress, sat nonchalantly on the trunk, balancing one ankle on the opposite knee. After a short silence, Nivienne glanced up.

" I assume by the fact that you said you were coming to see me, that you know my name… but I am afraid that I do not have the pleasure of knowing yours…"

The smirk returned as the young man answered her.

"My name is Jareth, the Goblin King. It is a pleasure, my dear Princess."

Nivienne's eyes widened slightly. This was her fiancé? She had not expected to see him unless her father brought her to him. She certainly would never have expected him to stoop to bring her some breakfast. Rumor had it that he was far above doing such menial things, yet the simple kindness of the gesture helped to assuage some of her doubts about her upcoming wedding. Oh, she had no doubt he was as arrogant as the rumors claimed; she could see it in the way he carried himself and in his smile, but the fact that he was capable of a little kindness reassured her somewhat.

While she was silently staring at him, Jareth took the opportunity to study her in return. She had mastered her initial surprise well, and now seemed to be contemplating him as she studied his face. Her narrowed eyes sparkled with a sharp intelligence, and Jareth noticed that the green of her dressing gown had caused them to become a deep forest green instead of the sea blue that they had been the day before. She was indeed very pretty, but still far too pale, he decided, and despite the fact that she was in bed, too weak to get up, she still had a mischievous spark about her. The rumors had been true, she was a quiet girl; he had sensed her shyness when he offered her her breakfast, yet, there was more to her than that. It was as if her outward stillness was hiding something stronger, something brighter.

At some point during their mutual contemplation of each other, the two Fae had locked eyes. Nivienne was the first to realize this; she turned her gaze, blushing at her rudeness. Jareth blinked and followed suit, but covered his small embarrassment with a smirk.

Nivienne's voice broke the progressively worsening silence

"How long are you… we… going to be remaining in the Moonglade?"

Something in her voice made him start. She sounded so hesitant and unsure of herself. Jareth realized how difficult it would be for her, leaving her home to be with someone she didn't even know for all eternity. He may be in the same position, but at least he would be in his home, a familiar environment. He smiled gently at her as he answered.

"I plan to stay at least a week before the marriage even takes place." His mouth quirked up into another smirk, "After all, I would like to get to know my betrothed and her family at least a little before I whisk her away."

Nivienne shook her head, rather amused at his droll tone. So began several hours of spirited conversation, ranging from light anecdotes to veiled insults, depending on the topic. The mood of the conversation shifted as rapidly as the topics did, but one thing remained the same: Jareth seemed determined to needle his fiancée and Nivienne was refusing to rise to the bait. She could sense his mounting frustration and bewilderment as she calmly deflected yet another one of his veiled barbs, not without a small smirk at his expense. Jareth noted this, and raised one winged brow in question.

"My dear Goblin King," drawled Nivienne, chuckling, "I have grown up with four older brothers… it is difficult indeed to truly annoy me anymore."

Jareth threw back his head and laughed. She would be quite fun to spar with in the future, if she could always hold her own this well. He shook his head appreciatively.

"So you have caught me, m'lady. Very well, let us discontinue our little game… for the present." He shook his head again. "Tell me about these brothers of yours... they must be quite something…"

This launched them into a much more relaxed conversation as Nivienne related many of the pranks and jokes she and her brothers had pulled over the years. She soon had Jareth roaring with laughter, especially after describing a particular incident where she, her brothers, and her cousin had accidentally torn apart an ambassador's room.

"We were playing around, running and wrestling and the like, and we went into the nearest room, turned out all the lights and closed all the shutters... you know... to make it as dark as possible. It was a brawl, there really is no other term for it… fists and feet flying everywhere, and no one knew who was hitting whom…"

Nivienne paused for breath, eyes twinkling in amusement at the memory.

"Then came this horrific crash! After we got all the lights re-lit, we found we had broken an oil lamp. Luckily there was one very similar in my eldest brother's room, so we made the switch easily enough. The real problems started when we realized that we had also broken the bed…"

Jareth let out a bark of laughter.

"Oh, do go on, Princess, this gets better every moment!"

"Well, it turns out that we had snapped one of the legs of the bed when we all jumped on it during our little game. We spent the rest of the evening smuggling in large, flat stones from the gardens to prop the bed up again. My cousin had to keep distracting the servants who kept coming by, while my brothers got the stones. My older sister and I stayed in the room and stood by the damaged leg, to hide it from view. Finally, when we'd gotten enough stones, my brothers held up the mattress while I stacked the stones where the shattered leg was (I was the smallest, you see, and the only one who could fit under the bed). It turned out that that room was being occupied by the Dwarven Ambassador!"

Jareth crowed in appreciation, tho' his eyes widened and he shook his head in wonder. Everyone in the Underground knew how easily dwarves got offended. A damaged room could be taken as an insult and cause a serious diplomatic crisis.

"The ambassador never noticed it, but the maids did the next day, after he left. They were mortified… my parents nearly banished us all when they found out…"

"Hardly true, my dear."

Both young Fae turned to see Nivienne's normally serious father standing in the doorway, wearing a slight smirk, very similar to the one that normally adorned Jareth's features. He smiled warmly at them both, pleased to see how well they seemed to be getting along.

"I just stopped to peek in on you, my daughter. How are you feeling?"

"Fine… I feel well enough to lea–"

The king held up a hand to silence her.

"The healers say that you need to stay in bed for at least a week."

"But… I'm fine… I need to finish stocking the healing stores for the next healer, and–"

"You will rest until the healers let you go. And no attempts to sneak out like you did last time you were injured. Do I make myself clear, daughter?"

Nivienne and her father locked eyes. The king's voice had gone from playful to hard in a matter of seconds. Finally, at his increasingly stern look, Nivienne abruptly turned her head away, dropping her eyes to her blanket.

"Yes Father." She whispered.

Gwidon sighed, shaking his head at his youngest daughter's stubbornness. He knew that, since he had ordered her to stay abed, she would obey; but one look at her eyes told him she refused to like it. He smiled slightly. Just like her mother, he thought. He walked over and placed a light kiss on Nivienne's forehead.

"Hopefully, they'll let you up soon… the palace is too quiet without you."

With that, the Elvenking left. They could see him through the window, heading back to the palace, pausing only give some instructions to Aiden before he disappeared from sight.

Jareth turned back to Nivienne, only to find her staring fixedly at her empty cup. She looked up slowly, her eyes glazing over.

"They drugged it…" She whispered hoarsely.

Jareth smirked as he took the goblet from her limp hand and placed it on the tray. He gently pushed her back into her pillows and pulled the quilted coverlet up to her chin.

"The healers seem to know you all too well," he chuckled. "Sleep now, Princess. You need it."

Nivienne watched him as he took the tray and left quietly. Her mind was growing steadily fuzzier as the healers' sleeping draught took its complete effect. The smell of wood smoke and spices was the last sensation she had before a deep sleep took her.