Three days passed like water, trickling away in the peculiar movement of time that the Underground possessed.

Toby was left unattended for the most part, allowed to wander where he willed, when he willed. The goblin servants were often enough running from one room to another with seemingly no particular idea of what any of them were doing- at one point he saw one of them exit a room in the West Wing carrying a rake! But for all that, they were friendly enough creatures and willing to bend over backwards to help the King's bond mate.

Jareth was not to be seen for those three days. Toby was convinced that there had been a presence that had entered his room one night, but by the time he had thrown on a shirt and challenged it, it had disappeared. But it had frightened him enough to keep the bed drapes drawn around him when he slept from then on. The feeling of being watched kept reoccurring, and it kept him so tense that he relaxed by making sure he left the room every day. Even if he was only wandering the castle, it still felt safer than being alone in his room.

At the end of three days, a goblin entered his room with a suit of clothes thrown over his arm. Toby knew enough about the goblins by this point to know that aloof look and to know that certain types of goblins were not as simple-minded as most of the others. "You are invited to a feast tonight," the little thing said, bowing low, "The King sent me to help you prepare yourself."

"A feast?" Toby asked dubiously, "What kind of feast?"

"The usual kind," the goblin explained cryptically, "Here! These are your clothes."

Toby suppressed a very indignant groan as he took in the delicate tan coat and breeches. If they were anything like Jareth's clothing, he already felt embarrassed without even putting them on. But he was not allowed to say a word as the goblin was already hurrying him to the bathroom and tugging at his clothes. Almost as an afterthought, a shirt was handed in as well.

"Come along then! Can't keep the King waiting! He gets angry, he does, if you keep him waiting," the goblin rambled, "and then poof! Suddenly you find you've been thrown into the Bog of Eternal Stench before you can blink. Very convenient, the Bog; His Majesty hates killing anyone so it's the best place to get rid of someone he doesn't like, isn't it? Now then, off with those clothes and into the bath. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call, My Lord."

My Lord? Toby rolled his eyes but complied with the demands, blocking out the sound of the goblin's rambling monologue as it drifted in from the bedroom. For a while he luxuriated in the warmth, his fingers absently entwining and unclasping beneath the water as if restlessly seeking something. The goblins had taken to calling him 'Lord', for no reason that he could discern. He'd tried to correct them but it just hadn't worked. And for now, that feeling of being watched had intensified.

It was a good hour later when he was led to the large hall. And at first he was hesitant to enter, feeling ridiculous in the highly stylized get-up he was in. Even his hair felt different, having been tied back from his face with a black ribbon, the overlong strands intermingling with his hair. But then natural good sense came back to mind and the boy banished all thoughts of a certain Goblin King from his mind with a grimace. Lifting his chin in characteristic determination, he pushed open the door and walked in.

What he saw seemed like something out of a fairytale!

"Why am I here?" he asked distrustfully, walking very slowly to where Jareth sat in the Great Hall.

At the sight of him, the entire throng of goblins began to bang on the table and cheer. Ale and beer slopped to the scarred, scratched tabletop, wetting hands and fizzing onto grubby clothes.

By contrast the Goblin Kind sat still and languid in his enormous chair. The back was carved into the shape of a Griffith's head, the heavy-browed eyes glaring down majestically as the vicious-looking beak hung over Jareth's head protectively. Jareth's eyes glowed in the candlelight with a furious light, as if the wisdom of the worlds had congregated in their depths, overflowing to touch the contours of the thinly smiling lips that were as pale as his skin. The moon-blond strands of his hair floated down over his heavy black velvet tunic.

Toby quickly tore his eyes away from the bared 'v' of the half-goblin's chest and glared at his audience instead. Had he looked back to his host as he took his seat at Jareth's right hand, he might have noticed a rather humorous smirk grace the sharp features. But Jareth was clever enough to make certain his prey was not startled right at the start of the hunt.

"I thought a celebration was in order," the Goblin King explained, innocently leaning towards his guest of honour, "After all, it isn't everyday that the King's bond mate arrives in the Castle." Toby leaned away uncomfortably. Jareth didn't seem to notice; instead standing gracefully and picking up his twisted silver goblet. "To our guest," he said out loud, "May he find happiness within my walls."

The goblins cheered again and downed their drinks. Then they proceeded to ignore the two at the head of the table as the doors were flung open and trays and trolleys of food were brought in. Roasts were carried in, still smoking and steaming from the spits. Breads of all types piled large wooden patters carved in the shape of strange animals. Strange and varied vegetation of both the cooked and uncooked variety were laid amongst the meats, accompanied by fruits and cheeses and yet more sauces and dips of all kinds. As it was, the goblins were only too happy to grab at whatever took their fancy.

Jareth didn't look twice as food was thrown across the table and at heads, only pausing to fill his goblet and Toby's from an old dusty bottle at his elbow. "Have a drink," he advised.

"I don't drink."

A dark eyebrow rose a fraction of a disbelieving inch. Whether the disbelief was intended to Toby's indifference to alcohol, or displayed Jareth's dislike for having a rare politeness refused, was entirely at the mortal's discretion.

Toby sighed and sipped. The crystal-clear liquid was cool, sweet to his tongue and slightly spiced. It surprised him, actually; in general he wasn't fond of wines. But this rich nectar was remarkably satisfying.

Jareth chuckled quietly to himself as the heady brew quickly took over the boy's mind. So his bond mate claimed to be unwilling, did he? Well, the Goblin King was not planning to let all that untouched loveliness go to waste without tasting it first. Burning blue eyes rose, meeting his with something like wonder as the drugging haze ripped apart barriers and inhibitions. Yet defiance and uncertainty still lurked. But there was time, Jareth decided, there was time to play his hand with patience and self-possession.

"Don't!"

Jareth started in surprise and sat back, tilting his head in innocent enquiry.

"Oh no, you don't," Toby slurred, "Don't look so bloody innocent! I know zigactly what you're thinking!"

"Zigactly?" Jareth echoed blankly. A few nearby goblins overheard the exchange and burst out laughing. Toby flushed and buried his nose in his refilled goblet. Jareth sighed and felt something oddly akin to pity move in his veins. It was either pity, or it was empathy. He didn't quite like either emotion. They had no place within him. "Here. Eat something. I should have warned you of the potency of my wines."

And so the time passed, with the hunter battling a curious indecision about the chase, and the prey becoming more and more appealing as more of his walls dissolved in wine and good humour.

By the time the clock struck two hours past the thirteenth, the feast had ended. The squawks and good cheer of the goblins had descended to hushed murmurs of contentment. Some of the creatures had passed out beneath the long table and others lay slumped in their seats or on the floor.

Jareth was lounged sideways in his seat; a long leg flung over one carved arm. The chair seemed to have a mind of its own because it had raised the claw on its other arm to possessively cradle his head. His eyes were half- closed and glittered in the light of the guttering candles. He himself was pleasantly under the influence, having drunk just enough to take the edge of that curious indecision.

Toby was somewhere in between reality and dreams, lost in the fantastical world he seemed to have been sucked into since he had opened the door that fateful night. His hair had long ago escaped confinement from his ribbon and the room had grown progressively hot enough that he had discarded his coat with a huff.

Music had been playing softly for quite a while and the boy tried to remember when exactly he had first noticed it. He eventually decided it was sometime after the chicken races down one side of the enormous room but before the miniature fireworks set off in the high ceiling. Which left most of the evening, unfortunately.

Suddenly it didn't seem to matter when the music had begun because now someone was singing, someone with a raw silk voice and a mouthful of dreams. Someone... Toby raised his head in shock as Jareth's mellow eyes found his.

'With your long blond hair and your eyes of blue... The only thing I ever got from you... Was sorrow...'

The goblins echoed sleepily from their positions across the hall.

Toby stared in horrified fascination as the warm notes caressed his ear. For one truly frightening moment he thought the Goblin King was singing to him. But then the mismatched eyed slid away, the words no longer even pretending to have anything to do with him.

'You acted funny trying to spend my money... You're out there playing your high class games... Of sorrow...'

Blue eyes closed. No, the song wasn't for him. They failed to see the soft smirk on the singer's face, or the way Jareth hungrily devoured the delicacy of his face with his eyes.

'With your long blond hair... I couldn't sleep last night... With your long blond hair...'

A soft whimper ripped from Toby's throat as slim fingers tangled themselves in his hair, caressing the curve of his skull through the silken strands. Impatient fingers they were, that plundered and plunged with knowing ruthlessness.

The music played on but the singer had no more words to utter. At least, none that pertained to the song- "Open your eyes," the half-goblin whispered, perched on the edge of the table and tilting Toby's face up towards him.

The mortal shook his head not knowing how the gold of his hair threw sparks across the room. Like the sun, Jareth thought heatedly. Feeling an uncontrollable urge to burn in such heated beauty, the Goblin King let himself dispense with patience for the moment. He swooped hard to the trembling lips, attacking with brutal kisses until the wide mouth gasped and obediently opened to him with a pleading sound.

Toby's fingers clenched into his thighs, the nails biting into flesh through the barrier of his clothes. Still lost in the haze of a waking dream he could delude himself into believing that this wasn't happening. It just another of those Dreams, as so many other instances in this fairytale world had seemed. He wasn't really kissing Jareth, was he? It only felt like a satin-covered mouth was on his, or like a serpentine tongue was twined around his own. And certainly those long-fingered hands were not tangled in his hair or cupping his face, angling his head to the exactly position to commandeer a harsher kiss than before...

'With your long blond hair... I couldn't sleep last night... With your long blond hair...'

Blue eyes shot open as Toby pushed himself out of Jareth's grasp with a startled cry. He didn't see the few goblin heads that rose to see what had happened, and stayed up to watch this most entertaining of scenes. No, all he knew was that the freshwater sweetness had resolved itself to the taste of Jareth's mouth and that Jareth's eyes chased the burning glow sweeping over his face. Even the unnaturally white skin seemed to shine with a moon-like pallor, making his dark clothes seem all the darker.

"No," the boy insisted, scrambling to his feet and backing unsteadily away, "I- I don't... I never wanted that! You fucking liar! You knew that; and you made me. I never wanted it, but you made me!"

Jareth couldn't keep a small smile from his face as he followed step for step. The light from the candles seemed to cloak his bond mate, giving the golden glow of daylight in the dim hall. "Have I, now," the Goblin King remarked, "How have I made you, Toby? Tell me; how have I forced you to kiss me?"

"You got me drunk..."

"I offered you a drink. As your host I cannot control the amounts you consumed."

"You made me..."

"How, Toby?"

"I don't know!" The wine still sung sweetly in his blood, blanketing his senses and making his body feel like pliant lead. He didn't want this- "I don't know, okay? You could have drugged me, or put a spell on me or something. I don't know!"

Jareth stepped even closer, feeling the thrilling surge of triumph as Toby's back hit the wall and pressed further against it. He was so close now. Blue eyes stared up at him with panic and he waited in anticipation for that last little touch... a desperate fist swung and connected with the half-goblin's jaw, snapping his head to the side. The connecting thread of heat had strung tighter and ever tighter and exploded with that one blow. In an instant, strong fingers gripped the delicate wrists and slammed them up above the golden head. A long, black-draped body pressed Toby further into the unyielding stone at his back as a knee slid between his legs.

Toby stiffened then, closing his eyes in despair and distancing himself from all of this. It wasn't happening; it was just physical anyhow. If this really was just another Dream- and so much of its sudden sway from gentle to dangerous seemed to label it as such- then he only needed to shut his eyes and wait to wake up. That was all. He didn't need to really take this seriously. No matter what happened, it was only a dream and the Goblin King would take what he wanted and then leave him be. Nothing could hurt him if Jareth could only touch his body in a dream.

The half-goblin drew back with a quick frown. He could feel the child retreat from him, mentally flinging up barriers locking his consciousness away as his body slumped obediently into Jareth's arms in a lesson learned from that very first day. And unfortunately, it was as erotically uninviting as the prospect of taking a block of rubber. Besides, the half-goblin was rather aware that Toby was a little young to be used in such a way. No, surrender was meant to be shared, not hopelessly allowed.

He let go with a growl as desire died a reluctant death for the night.

Toby relaxed thankfully as the loss of contact brought his mind back down to his body. But the sudden rush of consciousness was too much and he gasped as his knees turned to water and he pitched to the floor, bright blue spots dancing in his line of vision.

Jareth found himself with another armful of mortal youth and spent a good ten seconds cursing fluently in the Old Language to make his point of view clear.

"No! Let go of me. I don't..."

"Shut up, Toby, before I lose my temper," Jareth snapped. Sighing, the half-goblin shot a discontented glare at the snoring goblins behind him and hefted his burden up into his arms properly. Toby was small, but he was heavy. The Goblin King had to boost his strength with magic. Not a difficult task, however, and boot heels clicked a languid staccato as he left the room, taking care to hold the small body close enough to offer body heat against the cold night.

It took one entire minute for Toby's sluggish mind to register what was happening. But the sensation of being carried was not an easy one to miss. Colouring, he struggled a little. "Jareth, put me down!"

The protest went unanswered and was, in fact, completely ignored all together. Toby subsided with a sniff and a mutter, not letting himself think that he had sounded half-hearted at best, and childishly woebegone at worst. No- he had protested, he had been refused and this was therefore not his fault. He rested better after that, his head leaning against an unforgiving shoulder where blond strands mingled with his own blond hair.

The silence and the twisting turns of the journey seemed to go on forever. One staircase looked very like another and one passageway echoed as all the ones before did. A combination of alcohol, exhaustion and comfort made Toby's eyes heavy, and when a deep voice began to croon a strangely compelling lullaby in the gruff language of the goblins, the mortal drifted into the grey mists of sleep, for once not bothered to notice whether he was being watched or not.

He was not aware when he was laid in his own bed and his boots removed by the King's own hands. Or when a pair of mismatched eyes watched the rising sun light the sleeping contours of his face and figure with a self- deprecating smile of thin lips. Or even the continuous flow of music that issued from a white throat without pause or break as Jareth brushed his fingers gently through the heavy silk of his hair.

Fire-blond... Jareth decided whimsically that his bond mate was a fire-blond. It was befitting a Child of the Sun that Toby should be so.

"Perfect in every way," Jareth mused, twining a gold lock around his fingers, "Youth, beauty and compatibility. So tell me, my elf, why do you fight it?"

Toby murmured something indistinguishable and shifted in his sleep before subsiding again.

"The wine should wear off soon," Jareth murmured, looking to the sun, "And you will wake up alone and still untried, my Toby. Such a pity. But maybe next time? Yes, next time, my elf, you will submit. And I will enjoy you. I won't wait forever; it will be soon or else."

Somewhere in Toby's dreams, he heard those fateful words from Jareth's lips. He felt the heat as warm fingers slipped over his fevered brow. Fire burned around him in a circle of cackling flames, driving him to insanity with enflaming passion. Then a soft kiss was laid chastely on his forehead, sweeter and more intimate than he had ever thought possible. The flames retreated and quieted as he was soothed.

The child sighed in his sleep as he lay alone and unwatched in his room.

How long he slept, Toby never knew. Time, for all its relentless progress, could sometimes be strangely subjective in the Underground. Dreams of the most insane rambling flitted through his brain, filled with people in a sea of colours. His father and mother, Sarah and Ben, his few friends from school- all stood to one side and watched him with sad eyes and told him that they couldn't help him. Behind him was darkness, beckoning and murmuring with invisible monsters. And over it all the dark shadow of a man loomed accusingly over him, pressing him further into that evil blackness. But it wasn't Jareth, because Jareth stood on the side of neither good nor evil but in-between, as he watched Toby's struggles with an impassive face.