A/N: Argh, sorry for the lateness of this chapter but I got ill and to be honest this chapter was rather difficult to right even when you haven't got a splitting headache, blocked nose and a wheezy chest, alas, here we are and we've got some Jareth for you in this chapter.


Chapter VI

The throne room of the Goblin Castle was void of cackling goblins as they caused mischief, no, upon arriving back at his sanctuary the King had dismissed them in the usual manner of cussing, kicking and just out right throwing them in the bog for those unfortunate few that had decided to try his waning patience and being slow on foot.

Jareth let out an exhausted sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose and caressed his closed eyelids with his thumb and forefinger. Again he let out a shaky breath as he tried to calm his nerves, he let his hand fall casually to hand off the side of the throne as he lounged, his leg hooked over the sloping armrests of his throne, the other leg was firmly rooted to the floor as his elbow dug into his knee, his chin biting into the heel of his upturned palm as he stared into empty space, his eyes open but not seeing as his mind reeled into the past. His lips thinned at the memory, the corners of his mouth turning down to form a small but yet perfectly formed scowl.


The High King regarded his son in silence, he didn't want to repeat himself but he felt the silence tugging at him, he swallowed the growing lump in the back of throat, his hazel eyes a myriad of ever swirling gold, autumnal reds and oranges, burnt sienna browns and flecks of green danced around his iris as he studied his son. The child he watched grow and thrive under peace had become a man- in all the terms, if his imagination wasn't playing tricks on his mind. He had to admit, he was getting on in years, even by Fae terms, but he couldn't forget those eyes. A blue that wasn't tainted by any shade of green, a pure crystalline blue with streaks of electric blue and ever changing as the rolling clouds in the sky and the other a warm welcoming brown that pulled you into it's warm beauty and so unlike its own twin, he could never forget his wife's eyes even though she had long since passed to the otherworld. That child, his ominous ebon hair that had a life of its own, wild and untamed on his head but held its freedom and free rein in a show of defiance and –even for someone so young- regally in his foreign clothes. The chubbiness to his young cheeks still didn't fully hide the resemblance to his son that stood before him. A small smile tugged upon his weary lips and that awoke happiness within the depths of his eyes for many a year.

Jareth watched his father in disbelief, his eyes hardened and his lips turned into a scowl as he locked eyes with his sire, confusion plagued him and rendered him speechless for the most part as he watched the changes happen upon his father's face, if the corners of his mouth could curl further downward they would have done.

"Pray tell, Father, what do you find so amusing?" his voice strained as it tried to conquer the silence that hung over the large hall that had been deserted by the High King's order. The defeat of the Goblin King, Crown Prince of the Underground and of course don't forget the Spirit of the Labyrinth had been spread far and wide to the farthest most corners of the known realms, as the rumour first approved many didn't believe the hushed whispers but when the court saw a very withdrawn, disgruntled (more than usual) and easily-angered Goblin King, the rumours became more concrete but more so exaggerated to same extent but everyone had the same outcome – a mortal girl on the curb of womanhood had defeated the Goblin King and the ancient Labyrinth that outdated all existing persons in the Underground that none knew the conception of the ever changing walls that seemed to have its own conscious.

The High King was broken away from his musings and back to the present, he stared into those eyes Jareth had inherited from his mother, marking him with his Elvin heritage.

"I asked to know more about this 'Champion of the Labyrinth' of yours" the King repeated as he took an imposing step towards his grown son- a powerful and fair King in his own right but he would forever be his son foremost, a mix of his Mother and himself.

"There is nothing to tell Father, she was a runner and defeated me and reclaimed her brother"

"Then why is it that she stole your heart?" he mused out loud, quirking a dark eyebrow in question, the skin of his brow creasing at the questioning look as he looked at the fair-headed man in front of him, upon the comment he saw Jareth squirm ever so slightly under the parenting gaze.


He clenched his jaw. Oh, Sarah, why did she have to reject him? Oh she didn't know of the power she held over him, and he was none the wiser until now. How could he have been so stupid to have believed that she would accept him when she herself didn't know her own feelings?

She was but a teenager, on the cusp of womanhood; he was just a villain to her in her fantasy world.

How could he have been so stupid to have not noticed it? And even now he denied himself, he thinned his lips, she stole his heart and still she rejected him, threw everything he had done for her back in his face and those few words he dreaded, 'You have no power over me', oh, but he felt those words rip him to the core, gauging out his heart even now as he closed his eyes, a flash of her face all those years ago fresh within his mind like it was yesterday. A stubborn chin, wide innocent moss green eyes and an angelic face framed by dark brown hair. Oh how he coveted her even so, he wondered if for a moment how she had changed as she grew and his eyes hardened at the thought, why did he still think of that vile girl, he was Crown Prince of the Underground he could have any woman he liked, be her Fae, Elvin, Nymph or any other creature.

He still denied himself.


"She didn't steal my heart- Father" Jareth growled out, he began to explain but why should he explain himself even to his Father, he wasn't a child anymore so he stopped himself in mid-sentence. He felt his ire wearing away at his calm demeanour.

"Why question me about that –harlot – She is nothing to me now, she rejected and that is the end of it" he continued, puffing out his chest in bravado as he reminded himself of the rejection that stung at him even now.

"Why, Jareth?" the High King said, the rich-tones of his voice flowed from his lips as his eyes glazed over in anger, the gold of his eyes darkened to burnt and muted reds and the green disappeared entirely.

"Because that child is her son and, if by sheer resentment or something akin to 'love' she named her child after YOU" The King of the Underground continued. His wild hair swept into his face and kissed and caressed his shoulders in movement as he took another step towards his son.

Jareth set his jaw, as the High King sorely reminded him of the boy's name – the boy called himself Gareth Williams, a Williams child, the surname brought a flicker of hope that his logical mind extinguished before it could burn bright.

"Another way to torment me so" he argued on relentless, it had been close to nine years since she had defeated him and it had only recently that he had lost himself to ruling his kingdom and of course lost himself to the memory of her and her cruel rejection.


He craned his head slowly easing it back to rest rather uncomfortably on the back of the throne that sloped down and curved to form the arms. He really didn't find it all too comfortable. He didn't like the extravagance of the High King's throne; Jareth couldn't deny it was finally crafted with intricate inlay and carvings of creatures of old.

How could he have been so stupid?

He had seen those eyes; he saw the recognition on his Father's face as he saw that boy and when he said his name –Gareth Williams- he thought he felt his heart freeze over. Fate could be so cruel.


"Torment, no, Goblin King, she only wanted to keep your memory alive within her life" the deep voice had returned, its rich and low tones rippling through the wide expanse of the hall with little effort.

The High King and Jareth turned round and looked about the room and found the tell-tale orb hovering at chest height.

Both Fae contemplated the Spirit's wise words, the spirit was old as the Underground itself and someone had to be rather foolish to not heed its words.

"That naive girl should have no need to keep the memory of her villain alive in her life, Spirit" Jareth spat with contained rage, his words rung around the large expanse of the empty court like an echoing gunshot.

"Ah, but she did" the Spirit chimed, the feminine ring entering the voice as an embodiment of its merriment.

"It was a custom to name a boy-child after their sire" the spirit continued, the spice of ancient magic pulsed around the empty space.

Jareth's eyes narrowed his eyes at this 'news', the Spirit of the Labyrinth was trying to convince him that he had sired that child?

A small scowl formed on his lips as he stared at the glowing orb, it couldn't be possible- he had never – no, it was lies it had to be.

"I have never been..." he began but he paused as he found the right word to use without being openly vulgar. "...intimate with the Champion of the Labyrinth" he finished.

"Fae of this new age do not comprehend old magic" the voice sighed, the pulses were long but few and far between as if to show its disappointment.

The High King took a step towards the voice and the orb.

"What do you mean?" the High King questioned, his eyes warmed up as his gaze fell upon the orb.

"I mean, High King Anaraward that your son doesn't know of the consequence of his actions of that time"

"It was only a ploy to forget her brother and live her dreams" Jareth piped up, what he hated more than being spoken down to from his Father, it was being present while someone was speaking of him like he wasn't even there.

"But you forget, Goblin King, that while she lived her own dreams, she lived your own also" the Spirit answered without falter.


He was so blind to the consequence, the Spirit was right, he knew of the power of dreams but he threw them aside just like time, he had done it all for her and what did he get in return, a child? He closed his eyes; he took ragged breaths to calm his nerves. Those innocent eyes stared back at him in wonder from under a dense jagged black fringe. Suddenly as those eyes appeared they vanished from his mind's eye.


Jareth was shocked into silence, which was a feat within itself as the spirit continued to take it upon itself to educate his Father and himself.

"Have you forgotten how The Lost King of the Underground was conceived?" the spirit asked, but they all knew it was a question that was asked but never was meant to be answered bar any but the Spirit of the Labyrinth as it continued its tale.

"Born from dreams shared by the Master of the Veil and a mortal when no spirit of magic could wander in the Aboveground without danger."

"But that story is just a myth from the Creation of the Underground" Anaraward breathed out in disbelief.

"I, for young ones like yourselves" the spirit began its voice consuming and dreamy in the same.

Jareth licked his lips as they had suddenly become dry at this...unexpected turn of events.

"You Jareth, son of Anaraward, Goblin King and Crown Prince of the Underground, are a Father"


Jareth opened his eyes, the bright like of the throne room, his pupils shrank and dilated as his vision tried to accustom to the blinding light.

Oh he was so stupid.