I'm getting more and more nervous every time I post a new chapter of this. It's taken me ten minutes to psych myself up enough to post this one! My favourite part - Jareth and Toby. That part wrote itself, and when I sat back and looked it over, I didn't quite believe it had come from my hands.

Enjoy, next chapter is in progress as we speak. Might take a few more days before anything comes up thought!

I appreciate all your feedback so far, it's been awesome!

Chapter 4

Toby was still sitting up in his bed, still in his pajamas, but the expression of deep concentration on his face had been replaced by fear and wonder. There he stood, just as he had remembered him – tall, elegant, blond, dressed in black. His odd eyes shone with strange fire, and his lips were pressed together in a thin line, suppressing some emotion Toby couldn't recognize. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Toby knew now that he had been real, and with that, he knew where Sarah was.

"Where is she?" he demanded, trying not to feel scared. The presence that radiated off the Underworld being was enough to make his teeth chatter. He remembered that feeling from before – it made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. An elegant eyebrow went up.

"Well, I must say I didn't think I'd see you again. You would think one summons in a lifetime was enough, hm?" The crisp voice was deceptively friendly. His arms unfolded and he walked slowly towards the bed. Toby shrank back a little – the being was angry, and he wasn't sure if it was his fault or not. All he knew was he had to get answers.

"Where is she?" he repeated, this time his voice shaking a little.

"Where is whom, Toby?"

"My sister. You know where she is, don't you?" The accusing words came out sounding more like a plea. The Goblin King frowned.

"And why do you suppose I've been keeping track of her? She made her choice when she nearly destroyed me on your last little visit."

"She went missing. Mom and Dad thought she might have run away or been kidnapped but I dreamed about her and I know you took her, didn't you?" his words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other. Jareth held up a hand to silence him.

"I do not simply take humans when I feel like it. Unless your sister was wished away, it was not I who took her." Toby looked at him a little suspiciously.

"But... you can still look for her, can't you? With your magic?" The Goblin King sighed.

"Toby. Your sister broke any power I may have had on her before she left my world. I can't simply look for her just because you want me to. Even magic has its limits." He refrained from mentioning the geas that he had placed on himself to prevent him from watching her in the first place. He was breaking it in a fashion simply by being there – but a Call was a Call. The child was still looking at him hopefully.

"Humans... things happen. People... disappear." He hated himself for sounding hesitant. He drew himself up, crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes.

"It is a hard lesson to learn, boy, but one that you must. Life goes on – you lose people that you love." Tears were gathering in those devastating blue eyes – Jareth sighed inside. He found it difficult to give any comfort, as he himself was Gentry, and already in his fifth century. The concept of short mortal lives fascinated him greatly but was one that ultimately escaped his comprehension. He closed his eyes and failed to see the stubborn look that crossed Toby's face.

"I wish... that the Goblin King would come and take me away. Right now." Jareth opened his eyes and simply looked at him. The boy had set his chin stubbornly – an action that mirrored his sister more than he knew. Jareth felt frustration building in him and tried to remain calm.

"It doesn't work that way, boy." His teeth were gritted, and he could feel the muscles at the back of his neck beginning to tense again. Damn. He had let this go on too long – he couldn't allow the boy to continue hoping. A small part of him was watching the scene with regret – this would never have happened if she hadn't rejected him. He would have protected her for all eternity if she had agreed to be his. But he silenced his regret.

"But you have to! I wished myself away, now you have to take me with you. It's how the story went!" he leaned over and grabbed a small red book off his bedstand. It had been found in the attic when his sister disappeared and as soon as he was able, he read it over and over. The scenes that the book described evoked images so strong in his mind, that he could only call them memories. The stone castle. The goblins. The labyrinth. And most of all, the tall, pale man standing in front of him now, elegant and beautiful. The man whose eyes burned him when he looked into them.

Jareth looked at the book Toby held, and knew well what was written in it. He had used much of it to shape Sarah's impressions of the Labyrinth when she had passed through. He'd shaped her interpretations, given her what she wanted, and then nearly lost it all when it was thrown back... he stopped himself. He couldn't let himself travel that well worn road. But... perhaps. His eyes took on a feral gleam, and he grinned as if something amused him.

"Toby... I cannot bring your sister back. But perhaps I can give you something."

Gwyneth sat on a stool in her workshop, watching the human girl through the glass doors. She worked, hard, said little, and when she thought she wasn't being watched, wept to herself. She also spent an unusual amount of time gazing up at the castle tower where her cousin had his quarters.

The girl was pretty enough by human standards – her dark hair was growing and now reached her shoulders, and was streaked with gold from long hours in the sun. Tanned skin made her large hazel eyes stand out more, and now that her face and body weren't so starved looking; her cheeks actually had a healthy glow to them.

She didn't think the girl had been his lover – it was rare he took a human to his bed, and she would have known immediately on seeing her – not to mention that if she had been a favourite of his, Jareth would have never let her get to the state she had been in when she arrived at the gates.

So Gwyneth watched her and said nothing. Her cousin would be home from the Summer Palace soon enough. He didn't need to be bothered with this matter – she was sure the petty politics of the other Kings would be enough to give him headaches a-plenty.

The girl stood and stretched her back, shading her eyes with one gloved hand. She was looking towards the tower again. Gwyneth had to admit that under her care, the garden had reached some semblance of order. It was much greener and lusher than it had been for some time – dotted all over with colourful blossoms.

The girl was a quick study, and improvised if Gwyneth wasn't there to ask questions. Even her own workshop had benefited – utensils were stacked neatly or hanging off their appropriate wall hooks, drying racks had been repaired and stacked neatly, and even the bunches of herbs crowding the ceiling space seemed more uniform than they had been before.

As if in response to her increasing free time, there had been an inordinate amount of minor disasters occurring – most due no doubt to her cousin's absence. Goblins were disturbingly good at injuring themselves and others around them – not to mention their fondness for gunpowder. Fortunately most damage of that sort was confined to the city itself – business boomed for every creature who was a stonemason or carpenter by trade.

She wondered if his fellow Kings were aware of how much order he actually maintained. She knew most of them looked down in him – his raggedy subjects, poky lands, bizarre Labyrinth, and, as they saw it, his slightly 'rural' ways. But if it weren't for him, this shabby outpost would likely destroy itself, and spill over to affect the neighboring kingdoms. Goblins seemed to generate chaos wherever they lived, and years of watching her cousin had taught her that it took a firm hand to keep a semblance of order. They were much like children, and needed constant discipline. Truth be told, she looked forward to his coming home – she was beginning to feel a little frayed at the edges herself.

There was another reason besides curiosity that the Lady watched the human girl. Another reason she suspected why the garden was doing so well under her care. Every now and then, there was a spark. A spark of something. It was so tiny she almost missed it the first time she saw it. The girl had been pruning back a large woody section of hawthorn, and as she had reached up with one hand, she had brushed the raw end of a freshly cut trunk. Gwyneth had seen a tiny flash from the girls' fingertips, almost like static electricity. She thought it had been a flare from the sun or some such, but when she reached out with her power to investigate, she had felt a tiny residual trace of magic. She doubted the girl had seen it herself, as her face had been turned towards the shears in her other hand.

It wasn't unheard of for humans to have magic; however, the majority of those who were born with it never discovered it. It usually manifested itself in particular talents the human would possess – something that they could do exceptionally well, seemingly without trying. Humans with magic who were taken to the Underground were trained in its use and given a chance to reach their full potential. The reason she had been so shocked to see magic in this girl was because it wasn't human magic – it was Fae magic. And she wanted to know why.

Sarah knelt down in the dirt again, digging her hands into the earth and pulling up the bright yellow roots of goldenseal. She shook dirt off them and placed them into a flat wicker basket, turning back for more. Her mind was not on the job at hand – she was still thinking about her dream from that night. It had been so real, more real than any of the others she'd had. There had been a different quality to it also – usually she dreamt of times she'd spent together with her family when she was younger, or random images of home.

This time, despite her inability to interact with her surroundings, she had felt as though she was actually there. And Toby – he was growing up. She had previously only dreamed of him as she had left him – a rambunctious toddler, bright and mischievous. She had never been able to imagine him as he might be now. Her eyes were red and sore today from weeping.

Her eyes turned towards the tallest tower again. She knew he would be coming home soon. He had left the castle almost as soon as she had arrived, and in one way she was relieved that she wouldn't be found out. Another part of her felt bereft, and she wondered at the empty feeling that had bloomed within her. That part of her wanted him to find her. A thousand times in her mind since her arrival she had imagined their meeting – he would welcome her with open arms, he would shun her, he had forgotten her, he loved her, he hated her. He danced with her, threw her into an oubliette, touched her face, and wouldn't look at her. There were so many uncertainties. So rather than face them, she chose to remain as she was – unknown to him.

As night fell Sarah walked towards the doors leading into the workshop. It had been another long, hot day, and Sarah's shoulders were aching. She had scrubbed the dirt from her hands with soap and a handful of sand and washed her face, and was looking forwards to spending the evening down in the kitchens, listening to Cruet and his outrageous gossip. The air was warm and soft, and she could see through the glass of the doors that there was little light – one single candle burned, as well as the glow cast by the dying stove. Sarah didn't know how the Lady could stand to spent the hot days inside hovering around the stove, stirring, smelling and tasting her concoctions.

Sarah opened the doors and stepped inside. She was walking past the dying embers of the stove, when she suddenly noticed that the Lady was there, sitting in half darkness, watching her. Sarah started in surprise, and dropped an awkward curtsy.

"I'm sorry, Lady, I didn't know you were still here."

"Hello, Una," the Lady always paused slightly before saying the name Sarah had given herself. One graceful black eyebrow went up, but Sarah could see her usual half smile faintly in the dark. Sarah stood awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. They didn't converse very much, only one would ask the other how the garden was, make a request or two, or perhaps talk a little on herb lore and horticulture.

Tonight the Lady simply looked at her, dark blue eyes glittering in the firelight. Sarah couldn't hold her gaze for long and after a few moments had to look to the ground. Before Sarah could stammer an excuse to leave the room, the Lady stood and walked to the bench where the single candle was lit. Sarah watched her pick up the candle and use it to light several others, until some brightness returned to the room. It was then that she noticed food was set out there, and the Lady indicated with a wave of her hand that Sarah was to come over to where it was on the countertop.

"Come, child, eat with me." Sarah felt her mouth open in surprise, and snapped it shut quickly. She moved to where the Lady was now sitting, and climbed a little warily up onto a stool. The Lady noticed her discomfiture and laughed. The sound of the Folk laughing was like ice breaking, and cherry blossom petals swirling in the wind.

"I don't eat humans, child. I thought I made that clear already." Sarah felt her face reddening, and spoke the first thing that came to her head.

"It's just, I've never seen you eat... in here, I mean."

"I normally take my meals with my cousin, or in the dining room. I do eat, you know." She chuckled again.

"Now eat! I assure you, it's quite safe."

Sarah reached for a silver fork and surveyed the dishes set out before her, her stomach roiling with nervousness. She always felt that way around one of the Faeran – slightly dizzy, a little nauseated, but also exhilaration, as though she were flying. It had taken every ounce of her willpower to pretend it didn't affect her when Jareth had been near her, but she knew that she had never been able to hide it completely. She knew it every time he smiled that smile of his, eyes gleaming at her. She hadn't fully understood it then, the look that made her bones ache. As an adult, she had a little more perception of what he had tried to do, and how he had tried to sway her from her path.

For months after her experience in the Labyrinth, she had dreamed and fantasized about what it would be like to be with him – tried to imagine what it would be like to be loved by, not a prince, but a King – a King who could work magic, and who would dance with her, and... Her mind tried to fill in the gaps.

She was staring blankly at the food; fork in hand, when the Lady broke into her thoughts.

"Tell me about yourself, child." The voice was gentle, and the words deceptively simple, but there was something strangely compelling about it. She felt a kind of pressure gathering around the two of them, like the air before a thunderstorm was about to break. The Lady's eyes held a peculiar intensity, and glowed in the candle light. Sarah felt her mouth opening almost of its own volition, and her tongue began to move and form words.

"I'm... I..." with a force of will she closed her mouth, and tried to fight the strange force of will that was gripping her. She gritted her teeth and looked down at her hands, digging her fingernails into her palms until they stung. The Lady blinked once, and then smiled. Sarah felt the tide that had been threatening to sweep her under, lessen, and then let go altogether.

She looked up at the Lady – her eyes had darkened again, and lost the glow they had held moments before. She said nothing more, only looked at the human for a moment longer, then picked up a fork and began to eat.

Cuinn strode down the wide, arched stone halls of the Summer Palace, his pace and the muscle that kept twitching in his jaw the physical evidence of the fury that seethed within him. His usually placid nature had been shattered this morning when, upon entering the chambers of his King, he had come upon his Liege breakfasting calmly with a young human boy. A human! Cuinn closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to unclench his teeth and breathe normally. He couldn't allow his anger to show itself to any of the members of Court, because they would instantly want to know what had stirred the normally impassive eldest son of Aengus the Wise.

The courtiers loved nothing more than to hover like scavenging birds, waiting till someone showed a sign of weakness, then descending on them with glee to pick over the corpse. It was all done behind a façade of polite sarcasm, poisoned honey words, and empty smiles. Cuinn had been looking forward to the end of the Summer Court for the year – there was much to be done at home, and like his Liege, he preferred a simpler life with less intrigue and less – well, politics. But now... bringing a human to the Court of the Ard Righ! It was idiocy and insanity all rolled into one.

Jareth knew just as well as he did that the presence of humans was absolutely unacceptable in the Palace. There were many who despised and resented their mere presence in the Underworld, a prejudice that made his King's life very difficult at times. Others were simply indifferent and ignored the mortals as though they didn't exist, and a certain few actually found them interesting, if a little short lived, and were more than willing to interact with them. Jareth was one – with so many humans in his realm, and the very nature of his duties including the taking of unwanted human children, it was impossible for him not to.

But even so, he was considered a bit of a radical, an extremist – he had even been known to take mortals as lovers. But even he had never – well, Cuinn conceded, it wasn't as though a specific law existed that forbade humans from the High Court, but everyone knew that it simply wasn't done. Cuinn stopped walking altogether. Forcing himself to breathe slowly and evenly, he unclenched his fists, straightened his shoulders, and smoothed out his expression, carefully schooling it into its usual calm, unassuming appearance. He resumed his walk. Really, sometimes he wondered why he had pledged himself to such an idiotic King.