Author's Note: Obscenely long chapter. It's to make up for not updating in two weeks.
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"Look at the stars, Your Highness, are they not marvelous?"
Sarah looked up and then he looked at Vernon. "Very beautiful," he agreed.
Sarah chose not to say anything just then. He didn't know how Vernon would receive the news that the stars of Beinheim were small and dim, and that Sarah much preferred the stars over his little town on Earth. He fancied Vernon would take the news quite well, but Jareth had warned him not to make personal remarks. Peshawa weren't supposed to have a mind of their own.
"Your Highness?"
"I saw a very interesting design," Sarah put in, clasping his hands behind his back, "Two crossed swords with a rose above it. I was wondering what it meant."
"You look like Jareth like that," Vernon chuckled.
Sarah hurriedly dropped his arms to his side. Looking like Jareth was exactly what Jareth didn't want him to do. Be that arrogant? Sarah wasn't in the mood to raise a scandal. "The design?" he asked meekly.
Vernon pointed to a fallen tree and said, "It sounds like a standard or a coat of arms. Where did you see it?"
"Oh, just somewhere. I can't remember. Should we sit?"
"Certainly. A rose… I assume you mean the flower."
"Yeah. What else can a rose be?"
Vernon grinned and shook his head. "Crude language is frowned upon in the Palace of the Allorn Queen, Your Highness. Suffice it to say, the Nelderbrae meaning of the word 'rose' is quite different and shockingly dirty."
Sarah blushed without knowing why. "I meant the flower," he said with dignity.
"You blush so prettily, Your Highness. It seems to light up the dark night."
"The rose and swords, Vernon. We're talking of the rose and swords."
Vernon straddled the trunk and rested his hands palm down on the wood between his knees. "You are embarrassed," he commented.
"No. I'm going back to the topic at hand."
"Why is such a topic so important? We are in a garden of surpassing beauty, with the soft moonlight threading silver through the dark foliage. The stars are echoed in your eyes and in the glitter on your coat. The air is sweet with the scent of flowers and cool with fresh water. And you, Your Highness, want to have a serious discussion."
The sheer bewilderment in his voice seemed genuine enough.
Sarah stood up and cleared his throat. "There's been a mistake. I only came out here to talk and see the garden. I'm sorry if you misunderstood."
"I didn't misunderstand, Your Highness," Vernon soothed, "By all means let us talk. But not fettered by a topic, I think. We are alone here and we can talk of anything and nothing. I really do think we should."
"Talk of everything and nothing?" Sarah echoed, not comprehending.
Vernon bounded up and threw out his arms in an all-embracing gesture. "Forget the formal drawing rooms. We are only two people in the world, two equals in a garden."
Unbidden, Sarah thought of the Garden of Eden. Only, Vernon was the snake and Sarah himself seemed to be both Adam and Eve, tempted and temptress. He half-expected Vernon to produce an apple next.
"We're not equals," Sarah said quietly, "We should remember that."
"Oh?" Verno leaned in closer, as though to whisper a secret while he looked into his eyes, "Sarah, how do you rank equality?"
With such a question, it was almost petty to ask for a formal title.
"I will not call you by title, and do you know why? You are not equal to it. Not by the unspoken strictures that define the role you are to play."
Sarah raised an eyebrow.
"You may wear the clothes and Jareth may produce you with the ceremony, but you do not even have the legitimacy of a true Peshawa. You are neither fit to be the heir of your sire, or your dam. Neither Peshawa or Princess. According to the, er, fine print of such things."
The letter, Sarah wondered, how did Vernon know what the letter contained! And why bring him out to the garden- moonlight!- if he didn't somehow know about the letters?
"You, Beauty, are exactly as I am- born to a position you will never have the means of succeeding to."
The conversation posed all kinds of interesting deviations. Had Jareth been there, or Saxony, or Oric, or Evelyse, or a score of others more suited to the potential revelations that lurked beneath the surface of those words, the deviations would have been seized upon. For Vernon's luck, Sarah was not yet of a mind to concern himself with anything beyond what directly pertained to his health and happiness. As it stood, Sarah couldn't see the potential revelations.
"You sent the letters," Sarah blurted.
The spell broke, scattering the moonlight caught on brown lashes as Vernon drew back with a frown.
"Those letters. And the earring in the writing desk. That's how you know about that silly rose and swords design. You're playing some kind of game with me, aren't you?"
"Since I have never sent you a letter or an earring, I can't say I am," Vernon replied, "What did the letters say?"
Sarah felt like a fool. "Nothing much. Just said I should see the garden at midnight."
"I see. And the earring?"
"The rooms were probably mixed up," Sarah evaded, "And they got the wrong room."
"Probably. Though… you said the rose and sword design was on the earring or on the letter?"
"Both," Sarah revealed. Reluctantly.
Vernon was swallowing it too easily for someone who knew anything of the affair. Sarah felt such a fool for even bringing it up. He cleared his throat again and shrugged in as nonchalant a manner as he could attain.
He looked back and the lit doors to the ballroom winked enticingly back at him. Oh Helos, to be back there and away from his embarrassing mess. Sarah didn't know how he would look Vernon in the eyes again.
"No," Vernon sighed, "Nothing comes to mind. It might even be a crypto-calligraphic. There are books in the academics' quarters. Those could tell us. However, I haven't the time."
"There's really no need to go looking up books. It's just a mistake. I'm sure."
"Of course, Your Highness. Forgive me. Shall we return to the others?"
"Yes," Sarah said fervently.
Vernon nodded and invited Sarah to walk with him. One sideways glance showed that Peshawa was not, as such, very taken with the garden. Those green eyes were fixed steadfastly on the approaching building, his lips set in a decidedly thin line.
Very much like Jareth, Vernon mused. More so now than lately! The Goblin King was looking rather tense, his usual sang froid vanished in an exhaustive concentration on his mate and child. Everybody had noticed it- his gaze was sharper, his tongue more cutting and his demeanor more serious. His mind didn't seem to move beyond his family, for some strange reason; an unusual state for a previously lively curiosity.
Strange, then, that Jareth didn't know about the letters and gift. Vernon knew he didn't know. If he did, Jareth would have said very openly that whoever was responsible would be facing a very angry and powerful ruler.
Vernon still remembered the Goblin King almost hitting him for an innocent flirtation with Robert. Robert had known it was innocent; Vernon had told him. In much the same way as he would tell Sarah quite soon. Vernon liked pretty people but he didn't want to sleep with all of them.
Jareth hadn't quite accepted that.
Vernon suspected Jareth never would. With anybody. And he wouldn't accept Sarah's new admirer either. Vernon didn't blame him- jewellery was not normally given lightly to a mere flirtation. Anyone giving presents wanted something in return.
They parted at the open glad doors and Vernon vanished away into the crowds. Sarah waited a minute, taking a deep breath before plunging back in.
He spied his parents on the right side of the room and watched dispassionately as Jareth and the man he was talking to- Saxony- moved away. Robert met his gaze for just a second and Sarah had just a second to nod reassuringly to her before Robert was accosted by what looked to be a short young man with a short, brown beard.
"Your Highness," the Duchess of Jopher exclaimed, "You must meet an old friend of mine. Do you like athletics?"
Sarah put a smile on his face and wandered off with Evelyse.
Robert was not having a similar run of luck.
Saxony saw it happen, saw the Peshawa move away distastefully and find her way blocked by a solid wall. Saxony was a gossipmonger but he did have finer feelings. "Jareth," he said swiftly, pointing to the scene over the Goblin King's shoulder.
Jareth turned and lunged.
The Councilman was moving closer when he found himself face-to-face with the coldest stare of dire enquiry he had ever seen. He was close enough to notice that one eye had an enlarged pupil, the iris discoloured a dirty green. The strangest fancy that this eye didn't- like all other eyes- shrink from peering into his head came to mind. It was not a comfortable fancy.
Jareth could Robert behind him, could feel the heat pressing into his back. He raised a supercilious eyebrow and stared the Councilman down some more.
The Councilman took a careful step backwards.
"Stay away from my mate," Jareth murmured, "Or you will find me less than amiable."
"Ah, your mate?"
He hadn't known, Jareth realized. He broke just enough to fold his arm and lower his head a little. "How many years have you traveled?" he demanded.
"Three," the Councilman said frankly, "Forgive me, Sir. I had no idea that you had prior claim."
"Forgiven." Jareth took it for granted that any unaccompanied lady was fair game for anyone. Just not his 'lady'. "Your name?"
"Nilopher," the man said, bowing slightly in the way of the Dross, "Of the House of Aegon."
"One of the Aegon household? In Comlin?"
"No, in Drake. You know our Counties, Sir. Have you lived with us?"
Jareth smiled and stopped covering Robert from view. He brought her forward, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist. "I was raised in Comlin. My family still resides there."
"In Comlin! You are not Drossian and I assume you no longer live in Dross."
"No, I do not. I left some years ago. Possibly before your birth."
"I am not so old."
"But I am," Jareth said.
Robert knew this game. Jareth had always enjoyed this, watching his audience relax and let down its guard. They always did in the beginning, seeing the brusque elegance and thinking rulers had no need for such blatant efficiency. Robert supposed it had happened more often when the Goblin King was more of a story than a person. Certainly Jareth was not unrecognized as much any more.
"Perhaps I know your family," Nilopher suggested, "Your name, if I may ask?"
"Of course, how remiss of me," Jareth chuckled, with not an apologetic bone in his body, "Jareth, son of Zaerpher, of the House of Ferendi."
Robert had always wondered what Jareth would do if someone were to look blankly back at Jareth and apologize for not recalling anyone of that name or address. So far, there had never been such a case, only adding to Jareth's sense of self-consequence. Robert could see the Goblin King's pride swell another inch.
"Oh! Oh, forgive me, Your Majesty. I did not recognize you," Nilopher said quickly, bowing deeply in reverence. "I beg pardon for any rudeness on my part."
Jareth chuckled and nodded. "No rudeness. Just a misunderstanding." He tightened his arm on Robert's waist.
The Peshawa was uncomfortable being held so close. People were looking, and whispering.
"Of course. I must have leave to apologize. Forgive me, I meant no insult, either to you or your mate."
"You may do so yourself," Jareth said incorrigibly, "He speaks more languages than I do so I believe he will understand you."
Nilopher went red, confused by the gender reference. To his eyes, the Goblin King's companion looked female. She wore a dress that highlighted her figure and the plunging neckline did, in fact, show off the soft curves of a highly real female chest. Besides, those hips and legs certainly did not belong to a man! Or was it all an elaborate charade?
Nilopher was not stupid. The only popular breed of people that could fit this gender confusion was Peshawa, which would explain the highly desirable glow that emanated from the woman's calm face. Besides which, rumours had always existed of the secretive life of the Goblin King and he was already known in the Dross Councils for tacitly turning a blind eye to the slave traders. Why not take a slave for himself? He had already done so once before in his life!
"I behaved very badly," he said simply, addressing Robert directly without any form of address at all, "For that I hope you can forgive me."
Robert smiled thinly, a little smug for some reason to see the young man slip easily out of Jareth's prickly verbal traps. "A misunderstanding," he dismissed, "As His Majesty has said."
Nilopher nodded and turned back to the Goblin King. "I am acquainted with a nephew of yours, I believe. Santigue is his name."
"I believe so, yes. The last I heard, he was in the architectural commission to oversee the state of the main temples in the Loyd county," Jareth remarked, settling into the conversation, "Like his father before him."
"Oh, yes. Santigue was a good friend in school, but sadly we are in different counties now. He is still with the commission and it keeps him very busy. The temples being so old and the worship so regular, he cannot take his time with the repairs and restructures."
"No, I see he can't. Do you know Stelman? County of Comlin, last I heard."
"I know the younger. He runs his father's business, providing labour to the outlying farms. It does well. Stelman the elder passed to death some years ago. Is he a relation to your House?"
"Very distantly. Almost negligible, in fact."
Robert shifted but the fingers were still pulling him closer and it would be beyond bad manners to fight the grip, let alone in public. The only way was to relax into it, and lean against Jareth's side.
The Goblin King spared a look for this trusting little gesture. Peshawa did not lean on people; they bent where they were bent and they tolerated uncomfortable positions but they did not lean on anyone unless they were told to or had no other choice. Robert could balance himself perfectly well at the awkward angle. But he chose to lean. The weight wasn't exactly light but Jareth found himself thrown back to an astounding vivid remembrance of another time.
"Excuse me," the Goblin King said smoothly, "I am needed elsewhere. Perhaps we shall talk again."
He swanned away without more than that offhand evasion, moving swiftly through the crowds with Robert in tow. He found Clairen and took the Steward aside. "Where is she?" he demanded.
"Your Majesty, I really cannot understand…"
"Queen Oric. It has been an hour beyond the bounds of common courtesy and she is still not here. Where is she?"
"Her Majesty is ill," Clairen said, "Ill and tired. She regrets that she cannot make it." He'd seen this happen once before, a very long time ago. The distracted look on Jareth's face was not hard to read; most males of any species looked like that at such times. "We have no idea how serious it is. If you feel ill too," he added blandly, "Perhaps you should return to your bed and rest. I can have a doctor sent to you in a few minutes…"
"Rest sounds tempting," Jareth interrupted, "A doctor does not. No doubt it is only the journey. Present my regrets to anyone who asks and give my best wishes to the Queen."
"Of course. Good night, Your Majesty."
Robert also knew that look in the Goblin King's face and she was very resigned to what was to follow. True, Jareth had managed to hold himself back until this point, but it had had to happen some time. At least it was easier in female form. As a male… no, it was not to be thought of. That way lay regret and sadness. Payment, Robert fixed on, payment for Jareth's protection from Nilopher's proposition. And perhaps this time would be pleasurable. Perhaps she could find some way to force her rebellious body to respond.
Robert was still engaged in that task when Jareth shut the door behind himself and leaned against it for good measure.
He was breathing a little deeper than normal, the peshawa noticed, and there was a decidedly final note in his strange eyes. It was not an unattractive look. Jareth was not an unattractive man. Robert could think that with a perfectly detached candour. Unfortunate that she couldn't respond, but then Jareth hadn't demanded a response just yet and Robert just wasn't attracted to him enough to feel it for herself.
"I have had it with this," Jareth grated out.
Robert had expected it to begin with some comment on how she looked or some veiled hint of what Jareth wanted to happen. This had not been how she had thought it would start. So she kept silent and watched him, arms to her side and offering no resistance.
"What is it you want from me?" Jareth continued, "Soft words? Soft hands? Tell me."
No, this was not at all anything Robert recognized. It was familiar but not in a way that made her think it was time to undress or go to him. "What am I to tell you?" she asked slowly.
"Do you trust me?" Jareth asked.
"Yes."
"No, not the prescribed answer, Robert. Tell me the truth; that's an order. Do you trust me?"
Robert took a quiet breath. "I have no reason not to."
"The truth! Do you trust me?"
Strange how he didn't have to raise his voice. Stranger still that he wasn't actually angry. Just frustrated and blunt and desiring to know. Just to know. Nothing else. Because the world didn't depend on the conversation and Robert could afford to answer this right.
"I try," Robert gave him.
"Do you want to trust me?"
"I do."
"Why?"
"Because you want me to."
Jareth was still leaning against the door, hands behind his back and pressing palms first into the hard wood. It wasn't anything new, this conversation. They'd had many like it before. "Do you want to stay with me?"
Ah, the noose. Robert was going to hang himself either way. If he said 'yes', Jareth would likely fly into a rage and force him to submit. If he said no, he would have to stay in any case. The humans had a saying for this- "Might as well be hanged for a goat as a sheep'. He'd never really understood it but he guessed it applied to cases like these. He might as well be hanged for the truth. "I want to go home," he said.
Jareth interpreted it right- "To the Aboveground. Your wife is still there."
"My son, too, yeah."
"But your wife most importantly." Jareth tapped a nail against the door. "Help me understand this, why do you want a woman who would throw you out of your own house- who cannot believe you; cannot protect you- in a world that cannot understand you?"
"She does protect me. But she doesn't… I don't know the word for it."
"Doesn't force you," Jareth supplied ironically.
"Something like that, yes."
The Goblin King nodded and stepped away from the door, one hand lifted to ease the knots from his shoulder. "Then, go. Dance; Sing; Fuck, for all I care. Do what you want. I'm going to bed."
Robert blinked in shock but Jareth was already walking into his room. The Peshawa looked at the door and it didn't feel right to walk straight out. Even with permission. Robert didn't really want to go dancing, or singing, or fucking, for that matter. Staying up in the Chapel suite would, though, leave him with Jareth. And Jareth wasn't in a good mood.
"You're still here?" Jareth asked.
"What about Sarah?" Robert asked.
"She's a smart girl," Jareth remarked, "She can take care of herself." He shook his sleeves out and opened the windows. "I'll be back late."
"Where are you going?" Peshawa weren't supposed to question!
"To my Castle. To check on my goblins."
Jareth was gone before Robert could think of something suitable to say to diffuse the anger in those mismatched eyes.