Co-authored by QuaintLullabies and LadyoftheCelticLand
Sarah closed the door to Jareth's study behind her. This conversation had been a long time in coming, but she felt ready to relive the memories in her mind. The Rebirthing the Warrior training was almost done: less than a week to go. They had reached the point where strategic desensitization was being applied to their specific experiences in order to conquer their fear in daily life. Between Cailleach having drugged Sarah to sleep three weeks ago and her training on the Dreamscape involving encounting fragments or scenes of her memories there, Sarah figured that she was already in a pretty good place.
She could handle a conversation.
"Thank you for agreeing to talk with me, Sarah," the High King said quietly. His eyes were inscrutable, his face expressionless. He was wearing a black velvet doublet shot through with silver and tooled with green ivy, fastened with gold buttons. As always, his hands were encased in black gloves. His luxury boots - meant to be worn indoors rather than to withstand outdoor ruggedness - became visible when he got up and withdrew two crystal decanters from his curio cabinet. The cork sealers were a twin set of bronze male and female dragons that glinted in the afternoon sunlight. In one decanter, he poured a stream of water. The other he filled with red wine. "I can only imagine that my...discomfort...at hearing what happened will be outclassed in equal measure by your courage in recounting it."
"I understand the necessity," she said simply. "Thank you for giving me the time I needed to come to terms with it."
He inclined his head. "Shall we begin?"
Sarah was grateful that, as per the Ritual's mandates, she'd been allowed to dress in the ubiquitous clothing of a furloughed warrior: boots, leggings, and a forest-green cotton tunic. She didn't think that she could handle feeling the restraints of a corset around her ribcage, the sweltering heat of multiple layers of undergarments, or the headache of tightly bound hair. Instead, her hair twisted was a simple braid that kept it out of her face and untangled.
Sarah inhaled for the count of five beats, then exhaled for seven. She repeated this once more, then nodded. "Yes."
She began from the moment that Lorcan had kidnapped her. She didn't go into the details of her torture when she knew he had already seen that memory in her dreams, which made it a little easier. She found that it was oddly more perfunctory to talk about what had happened than she had envisioned: most of her terror had been in the anticipation of an upcoming night of dreams and the uncertainty of whether she'd last the night with her resolve intact. Now that it had passed, she was able to recount what had actually happened factually.
What happened was in the past, and would never happen again. It was unchangeable and unrepeatable.
Jareth paused her several times to pour her a glass of water - or to pour both of them a glass of wine. "So that's the last thing I remember about Marcas after after Lorcan...died," the woman concluded. "I...don't know what happened," she added softly. "I didn't mean to kill him, but I don't think Marcas did."
"You had an uncontrollable burst of magic. Lightness and darkness cannot inhabit the same space; darkness will always flee when lightness grows. You had no way of knowing this or what would happen, Sarah," he said insistently. "I hope you know that you acted in ignorant self-defense. There is nothing in what you told me that would approach manslaughter for what happened to Lorcan, let alone murder, even if he wasn't a traitor to the throne several lifetimes times over."
She looked down into her glass, staring at the knot work on the hem of her tunic through the ruby liquid. "I know. That doesn't make it easier to bear. Lorcan was about to take a gamble on me and do the right thing. Now he'll never have that chance to right the wrongs of his life."
"Hmm." She heard skepticism in Jareth's noncommittal noise, but decided to disregard it for now. "I also don't know how Marcas didn't realize I wasn't dead."
"You must have gone into hibernation at the last moment," the fae murmured. "That was the state you were in when I found you. It can be difficult to detect unless one is a Healer by training. He never was patient with that art, not at any point in our lives. Ironic that his ignorance has enabled his crucial mistake, and that it will topple his legacy."
The dark-haired woman frowned. "You don't seem that surprised by Marcas being involved," she said slowly.
The golden-haired king stood with a sigh and walked over to the study's main window, looking out over the courtyard below. "Oh, I've known for quite some time now."
Sarah stood abruptly. Her glass of wine shattered in her hand and spilled over the desk, but she didn't care. "You knew?"
"Yes. Or, rather, I have strongly suspected his treachery for many years. He's always resented the circumstances of my reign and Aimsir's choice of me as leading party in our brotherhood. However, my hands were tied until Marcas played his hand."
He turned; his eyebrows knit when he saw blood dripping from her hand onto the floor. He crossed to her and began to pick pieces of glass out of her palm. "I knew he was planning something," he continued, his voice low, "and all facts pointed to corroboration with Lorcan. However, I could never quite make those facts fence him in securely enough to make a public, royal accusation."
His fingers moved over the punctures in her palm, healing as he went. It stung a little more than it would have if Cailleach or Sarah had done it herself, but frankly, her attention was focused on Jareth.
"With your kidnapping, however," he said, "it has been confirmed: no one else could have granted Lorcan safe passage through the Labyrinth other than someone in the royal family. With Aimsir's loyalty being unquestionable for several reasons - none of which are public knowledge - this proves that Marcas had to be fraternizing with the Unseelie in order for you to be successfully kidnapped by them. I could not, however, risk your life by accusing him while he had you. Desperation is the only weapon of a cornered animal."
Sarah yanked her hand out of his. "So you set me up to be kidnapped? You used me to bring down your brother? As blind bait?"
"What? No!" Jareth's eyebrows snapped together thunderously. His eyes were no longer impassive now: they were a volatile mix of hurt, indignation, and fury. "How dare you think me so cavalier! After everything we've been through, Sarah? Can you really believe that?"
The human relaxed her fists. "Sorry," she muttered. "No. No, of course I don't. I just… This has taken me by surprise." She looked up at him. "I'm sorry."
The lines in his face didn't go away, but his vivid eyes softened. "I…understand. I do. I hope you know by now that I would never do anything to put you in danger." He laughed harshly. "If anything, history has shown that I am overprotective when it comes to you. I never would have dreamed that Marcas would have launched a campaign that would implicate him so clearly should it fail. He must have been very confident of the success of this venture to risk it all."
"I thought he just wanted my magic, to overpower you."
"That was only the first of several planets that would align, as it were. It was Cailleach who first realized what his ultimate goal is."
"And what," Sarah asked tightly, "is that?"
Jareth looked at her assessingly. "It is not necessary for you to know," he said slowly, then raised a palm to cut off Sarah's outburst, "but I will tell you anyway - out of respect for your station, for your situation, and...for the sake of our relationship."
"What?" She sat down heavily again. "You will?"
"Sarah-mine," he said quietly, "we have been far too long apart because of my hubris. I am...unaccustomed to sharing power, for with that power comes responsibility and danger. This knowledge is power. However, if shielding you from it means that you will run from me in equal measure…. I have no choice but to trust you when you say that you can defend yourself. Our nights in the Dreamscape have helped to assure me of the strength of your will, as has the recounting of your memories today."
He perched a hip on the side of the desk closest to her, his boot dangling near her knee. "I believe it was Marcas' goal to to absorb Aimsir's power through you. Once you had no magic, you would have returned to being mortal in every sense of the term. Furthermore, having captured you, he would be in a situation to force me to sacrifice myself for you. If I was reduced to the same state of...powerlessness, he could then kill me, and be both the whole King of Dreams and High King of the Fae in one body."
He looked up at her, meeting her eyes, then ran a gloved finger along her jawline. "It was a good plan, a dangerously good one," he said softly. "That Dreamscape scene I fabricated in the tunnels with the runes? Where I constructed a version of Marcas to force you to make a decision between your safety or my life? You were about to cave and give him what he wanted, Sarah. Do you think I would do any less for you were the tables turned? Do you think he was unaware of this?"
"Then just-" Sarah couldn't believe she was about to say the words, but she forced herself to. "Just kill him! If you know he's trying to kill you and if - if I'm such a liability - then just strike the bastard down now!"
"Ah," he said softly. "And there is the impasse. I cannot execute him by my own hand: he is Greater and shares one-third of our power. None of us can actually kill each other as long as we are bound to each other. If I want to eliminate Marcas, I either need someone else to do it, or I can imprison him legally. Either method needs proof enough to persuade the ruling classes…proof that I did not have. I had to allow him to tie his own noose. Now that he's taken control of the Unseelie in Lorcan's stead, this gives me opportunity to wipe him out. And while I'm at the task," he added, his voice going hard, "I will also give the Unseelie precisely what they wish by coming to the battlefield: a swift end. It is a dark game I play, Precious Thing, but it is a game I play to win."
His eyes burned like flames, his throat tense. The leather of his glove squeaked as the hand on his thigh clenched.
Sarah swallowed hard. "I don't understand. If you have proof of Marcas' treason, then why use the Unseelie as a scapegoat? There's nothing to gain by it. In fact, they could be allies and bring Marcas to us in exchange for pardon."
Jareth slid from the desk and began to pace behind it again. "Don't you think I've considered that? It's too late. Marcas will have seized control of them immediately after...discarding your body. Time was short. He knows that he has signed his own death warrant by involving himself with Lorcan. He knows that I know."
"But why take control of them? I got the sense he didn't care about them, about anyone but himself," Sarah said bitterly.
"It is true: he does not truly champion their cause. However, he now has no choice. He cannot return home without facing a summons to trial the minute he steps foot onto Seelie lands. However, he believes you to be dead and Aimsir an empty husk. He thinks he is now equal to me in power. He will try to salvage the situation by playing both ends against the middle: to them, he will claim that you killed Lorcan, and he has framed the Unseelie for your kidnap and murder. Both of these are even true, after a fashion. War is inevitable."
A grim smile formed on his mouth. "It is a desperate bid, to strike while he believes the playing field is balanced. However, he is caught by his own trap and ignorance: he cannot win a battle against the Seelie with you by my side, and his treachery will allow me to deal with him without repercussion."
Sarah shivered. Savage intent was in Jareth's eyes. "But why go to battle at all? If he's as vulnerable as he is, why not go after him directly and bring him to trial?"
He frowned. "The pieces of the puzzle are falling in place, Sarah. Why would I change that inevitable conclusion?"
The dark-haired woman stood, her emerald eyes flashing. "Because. Innocent lives are at stake," she said, her voice hard. "You're a mastermind, a Greater being - a god in your own right - and you craft illusions and dreams as easily as children draw in the dirt. Can't you craft a better way?"
Jareth blew out a sharp exhale between his teeth and threw up his hands. "You object to certain victory in battle? Fine. What alternative would you propose?"
"Use me."
As soon as she said it, she knew she was onto something. She didn't know what yet, but something about it was the key. "Use me," she continued slowly, "in conjunction with Aimsir's power, to draw Marcas out. Deal with him directly. Clear the Unseelie of that crime and show them his treachery, then deal with them fairly."
The king scoffed. "That makes no sense whatsoever. Between you - the vessel of Aimsir's power - and I, we hold the lion's share of the Greater power! Why would I put that at risk? For the fleeting glimpse of dying creatures in the night, out of the millennia our Offices have lasted and will continue to last? No, we will defeat Marcas on the battlefield of his choosing. We cannot lose if we let him be the one to tip the first domino."
"Yes, we very well can!" The memory of Lorcan's face, divided between desperate hope and cautious suspicion, flashed in her mind. "We will lose if a single life is snuffed out unnecessarily! We will lose if innocent lives are lost in a mass execution for crimes they did not commit! I care about the Unseelie, Jareth. Cowan told me about the Unseelie family who rescued me - Povus, Bayra, and Rekkie, and her brother. They undertook great personal risk to return me to you! There is good among the Unseelie. Is that worth nothing to you? That is not the man I thought you were - and think you are."
She reached out a hand onto his velvet-clad forearm. "Jareth, imagine a world without this conflict between day and night. A world like your father's while your mother still lived. This great divide is only because of the cycle of revenge spiraling out of control. Think of what your mother would want. She would want peace, wouldn't she? If there is a way to achieve it, isn't that what a ruler does?"
Jareth met her eyes for a long moment. "Pretty thought. Marcas won't let that happen."
He swept past her. "I need to go. I am needed elsewhere. We will discuss this further, my lady. I'm sure you know that this discussion must not be shared outside of this room. Within the fortnight, I will leave for King Angus' lands. I will be conducting searches of my nobles and minor royal families to see whom else Marcas has corrupted and turned against me. Angus shares lands with Marcas on the Unseelie border; perhaps there is treachery to ferret out."
Before he left, he met her eyes. "I hope you will accompany me," he said softly. "And...I am sorry that I cannot fulfill your every wish for the happiness of all. I truly am. If I could, I would."
