AN: Alright then, this is the last chapter of a purely underground nature. Next chapter is on to the above and the crossover stuff will finally begin.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or Harry Potter
There was a long silence, during which time Nanne once again reached for the needle and began tapping it in anticipation. The rest of the council shared bemused looks and as one, decided to humour him for the moment. The very idea that the all powerful Goblin King was without his magic was laughable. Jareth was not oblivious to their exchange but stood, feigning impassiveness, knowing that he had to convince them of the truth. If he didn't, he might find himself locked up, drugged up to his teeth and completely insensible in truth.
"How could you lose your magic?" Polk, who was from a particularly cruel race of goblins, asked with a barely suppressed mocking grin.
Jareth glared disdainfully at him and Polk squirmed in his seat. Jareth grinned inwardly and sat down in his chair. Slowly, the rest of the Council regained their seats. Jareth waited until he had their full attention before telling the story.
Whilst most of the Labyrinth's inhabitants were not unaware of Jareth's peculiar link with their home, they were not aware of the Labyrinth's own sentience and power. Jareth was the Labyrinth's King in both senses. It owned him and he ruled it. The Council were aware of this link and so were only mildly surprised when Jareth mentioned the Labyrinth speaking to him.
Jareth told them how his loss of magic was the Labyrinth's punishment to him for breaking the rules. He did not say what the rule was or how he did it. He was not willing to let them that far into his private thoughts. Nevertheless the Council guessed that for the Labyrinth to interfere like that, Jareth must have jeopardised their relationship in some way.
When he was finished, the mood in the chamber had changed.
Aksel took a deep breath and wheezed out in almost a whisper "Is it permanent?"
Jareth shook his head, "No, it is not."
Trygg looked up, his face hard and determined, "Then what must we do? I will go to the end of the world if I have to, to regain Your Majesty's magic. I am at your disposal."
There was a murmuring of agreement around the table and even surly Polk agreed. Jareth almost smiled at the show of loyalty.
Instead he forestalled them by saying, "There is nothing that you can do. I will regain my magic when I have learnt a lesson. I just have no idea what that lesson is."
Aksel nodded wisely and knowingly, "That is always the way of these things, Your Majesty."
Jareth suppressed a smirk because of course; Aksel had no clue as to what he was talking about.
"What are we going to do about it then?" Anker asked nervously.
No one said anything for a few minutes as they deliberated the dilemma. It was Trygg who finally said what they had all been thinking, "We cannot keep you safe here."
Jareth nodded. He had hoped that they would come up with a solution that he had missed but it had been a futile hope. The underground was no place for a mortal.
"I know."
"Perhaps, Your Majesty might stay with your above subjects?" Trygg suggested.
Jareth nodded his head, "That had been my thought as well."
There was another silence as the Council contemplated the decision that meant that the King would be exiled from his own Kingdom.
"We best do it quickly then," Aksel eventually said.
At the incredulous looks he was getting he threw his hands up in the air, "Well, it is true. His Majesty is at risk every second he stays here. The last month has been dangerous enough as it is."
This was as much of a reproach for keeping things secret from his Council that Jareth was going to get.
"Trygg, escort His Majesty to his chambers so that he may get dressed. The rest of you, we'll head to the above connection room."
Jareth raised his eyebrow at the presumptuous order, but complied nonetheless. It was sensible, after all. Nevertheless he was going to have to have a talk with his Councillor about just who was King and who wasn't.
The journey up to his chambers was a quiet one. The halls were empty for the most part, and any guard they passed did their best to not look at the King; a stark reminder that the incident that had led to his reveal had only been a short while before. Jareth had the brief thought that his subjects might think he was fleeing out of shame, but he suppressed it. It did not matter what his subjects thought of the matter. It was the only option. Anyway, he trusted his council to set any rumours about him straight. He had to trust his council. With him gone, it would essentially be them who were running the Kingdom. Jareth, believe it or not was a rather hands on King and liked to be involved. It would be difficult to adjust. It would be hard enough to be kept informed, let alone involved. He just had to trust that his subjects could look after themselves for however long it took to get his magic back.
Trygg kept a solid hand on the King's arm as they walked. Unbeknownst to both of them it gave the impression to the guards that they passed that the King was being forcibly taken to his Chambers rather than going of his own free will. It was another reason that the guards avoided looking at the King. Their loyalty to Jareth meant that they thought that they ought to free him, yet their knowledge of Trygg's loyalty to him meant that they also trusted that if Trygg was dragging him somewhere it was for his own good. It was a dilemma but not one that they were willing to confront. So they deliberately did not look at Jareth so that they could pretend that they hadn't seen anything and so not have to do any hard thinking.
In reality, Trygg's reason for holding onto Jareth was much more benign. The castle was as much a part of the Labyrinth as the city and whilst nothing had happened to Jareth within its walls yet (apart from setting fire to the rooms, but Jareth had explained how that had happened), Trygg didn't want to take any chances. Being in contact with a magical being reduced any risks.
When they reached the Chambers it was to find that the only clothes out were the Ceremonial garb that he was to wear for the Ceremony. It was all together too fancy and impractical to wear on a trip to the above, yet Trygg forestalled Jareth's attempt to call for his grooms to fetch something else.
"There is no time," was all he said.
Jareth sighed ruefully and agreed.
"Call my grooms to assist me in putting this on then. It is impossible for a person to put on properly unaided," Jareth said as he slipped off the dressing robe and allowed it to fall to the floor.
Trygg shook his head, even as Jareth pulled on a pair of underpants. "I will aid you, My Liege. It will take too long to call them." Not to mention that he had seen them drunk on ale in one of the adjoining rooms and laughing heavily at Jareth's misfortune. Trygg did not want to subject his King to that.
Jareth shrugged, not at all caring if his Captain assisted him in such a personal task. It goes without saying that the Captain of the Guard had to be the King's most trusted subject. If Jareth couldn't trust him with his body, then he could hardly trust him with his life.
Yet, it niggled at Trygg's mind that Jareth hadn't trusted him, so whilst he was busy tying and clasping and pulling at various items of clothing he ventured to ask, "Why didn't you tell me?"
Jareth froze with one hand on a button before resuming, "I don't know."
Trygg could tell that Jareth wanted to end the conversation but he was not going to allow that. "Why didn't you trust me?"
Jareth remained silent.
Trygg pulled very tightly on one string causing Jareth to let out a slight yelp.
"My apologies, Your Majesty," he said, not meaning the apology at all.
Jareth glared and Trygg smiled at him, with all his teeth showing. Jareth looked away first.
Trygg resumed his questioning, "You do know how dangerous it was for you this past month? Anything could have happened. Plenty of things did happen."
Jareth remained silent.
"Your Majesty?"
"I was embarrassed, Ok!" Jareth burst out, twisting out of his grip, before settling back down. Trygg paused and Jareth snapped "Resume your attendance on me, Captain."
Trygg did at once but he did not stay silent, "Your Majesty, there was no reason to feel shame or embarrassment. I am your Captain. It is my duty to protect both your dignity and your person."
Jareth stood stiffly but then he slowly exhaled, "I know that Trygg. But look at it from my perspective. You are my Captain, yes, but I have rarely needed your protection before. Suddenly though, I find that my magic is gone, and my strength is gone, and all I am is a weak mortal and your protection is all that I have to keep me safe. Can you blame me for clinging onto my pride?"
They had finished the dressing, and Jareth turned to look at Trygg. He was resplendent in all of his finery, and regal in bearing. There were just two things missing. Trygg hurried over and fetched them. One was a magnificent mantle of the darkest green which he draped across Jareth's shoulders, clasping it with a golden chain, with the Goblin King's symbol on it. The other item was a golden circlet, which he reached up and placed upon Jareth's brow.
He took a step back and looked at his King, who stood so tall, stately and tragic. His magic sang in acknowledgement of his bond and he felt a welling up of sympathy and love. On a whim he knelt before Jareth but did not bow his head. Instead he looked directly into Jareth's eyes.
"My Sovereign. I could never blame you for anything, yet I must argue with your analysis of yourself. You are magicless but you are not weak. Your strength is not gone for you have my loyalty and my strength at your disposal. You are much more than a mere mortal for you are a King, my Lord. Strength, honour and nobility run in your very blood. It is visible in everything that you are. Magic does not define that. Magic or mortal you are a King. Yet, you are more than that, for you are the Goblin King."
Jareth's shoulders seemed to straighten before his eyes, and a spark of life that had been absent appeared.
Knowing that his message had got through, Trygg slowly and reverently, bowed his head.
