Author's Note: Much thanks to Navaer Lalaith for her website on all things Elvish (Tolkienian). The name of the Elf Lord means 'Fading Leaf' which I thought appropriate. Do not be confused though, the elves age like humans do, unlike the fairies and the goblins who stay at the peak of their looks for the rest of their lives once they reach it. Hence, Jareth will look about thirty-two even in death.

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Jareth practically danced out of his throne room with a song on his lips, actually twirling in a little circle before disappearing out the door. The goblins stopped what they were doing to watch him with terrified eyes. The one who had delivered the message sat down hard on the floor and fanned her heated face.

"He's mad," she insisted.

The scene had been a potential death-trap when she'd sidled into the room, even though the Goblin King had not been in a bad humour for many days now. But to relay the message she was trusted with! The poor thing had been certain of her death. Until Jareth finally lost his patience with her stuttering and screamed at her to spit it out.

"Lord Toby... he's ill," she had squeaked, retreating behind a fatter goblin as soon as the words tumbled out.

Every goblin had frozen, stunned into immobility at the implications. Jareth had stood motionless himself for a while, and then a crazy smile of contentment had lit his eyes and he'd left the room in that ridiculous fashion, leaving the goblins to think as they wished. And the goblins wished very much that they had not seen what they had seen; it was positively indecent for the Goblin King to be as human as all that! Of course, had they seen what followed between the Goblin King and his consort, they might just have migrated to the Fairy Kingdom for good.

Jareth plucked his lover from the floor beside the basin where he was propped, crooning softly in his ear as he sat him on his lap and rubbed his back. His lover seemed to stop feeling quite so wretchedly ill as he pressed a slender hand against his roiling stomach for a few moments to ease the ominous gurgling.

"It's that child," Toby muttered, somewhat thickly even though he would refuse to admit to it, "God, I feel terrible!"

"It happens; you know that," Jareth soothed. He rubbed soothing circles into the soft skin under his palm, resting his cheek against his hair. "Are you certain? Is this what you want? There are ways to rid your body of the child if you want. But tell me now so I can research the spell before the safety period is over."

"No!" Toby looked so violently disgusted with such a suggestion that the Goblin King grinned. "Touch this child and I will be very, very angry. You hear?"

"Very well," the Goblin King agreed, "I assume we keep it."

"Well, unless you think I'm having a litter and you can sell it to your neighbour on the next street, then yes. It's not exactly a golden Labrador pup, you know."

"I didn't think it would be," Jareth smirked, "Unless you have an ancestry I am not aware of." A whack landed on his thigh and he chuckled, cupping a warm cheek in his left hand. "Will you be all right?"

"I will," Toby promised, "Once I stop feeling quite so sick. Does the entire Kingdom really need to know?"

"It is only fair to my people to know my heir is conceived," Jareth pointed out, "It will at least stop them holding ridiculous meetings to plan my overthrow for the next six months or so. Fools!"

"Indeed," Toby agreed dryly, doing a very good imitation of his husband's ironic tone, "Oh, stop laughing! You're making me feel sick again."

Jareth hurriedly shifted so that Toby was closer to the basin. The half-goblin looked slightly nauseous himself at the thought. Mud and grime, he could handle, even blood at a pinch. But someone being sick all over him? His clothes would not survive, and neither would he.

"Don't worry," Toby muttered, hearing the unspoken thought, "I don't have anything left to be sick with. I haven't eaten breakfast and dinner is already out. Ugh, even the thought of food is horrible."

"Very well, then. Let us talk of other things. Would a trip outside of these four walls help?"

Toby shot him an incredulous look out of bright blue eyes, blinking his near-invisible eyelashes in quite some horror. "I can't leave the room like this. Everyone will know!"

Jareth frowned slightly as he looked down at the face turned up to his. "Everyone will soon be told," he reminded the mortal, "I am announcing it tonight."

"Tonight? So soon?"

"Toby!" Jareth pushed his lover off his lap and stood up, towering over him with a displeased frown. "I told you of this a week ago. You are three months with child; we must tell them sometime. And surely you did not forget what today is?"

Toby settled his mind enough to try to think.

"You did forget what today is."

"No, no! I haven't forgotten, honest! I just... need a few moments to remember?" Toby tried hopefully. Inspiration hit. Or rather, Jareth's ill-tempered thought thrown his way hit. "Oh shit!" No, he decided, this was not a good day. "Jareth, I'm sorry. I just feel so ill it slipped my mind, but I swear I didn't forget. I swear! I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" Jareth looked genuinely astonished. "Whatever for?"

Toby used a handful of his husband's clothes to lever himself off the ground and into a semi-standing position. Jareth's shoulder luckily foiled any attempt by gravity to send him crashing to the ground. "Aren't you angry?"

"Do I feel angry?"

Toby considered that, sifting through all the jumbled thoughts in his head. "No," he sighed, relieved beyond measure. "No, thank God. But I'm still sorry. I shouldn't be forgetting your birthday. By the way, Happy Birthday."

"My birthday, my elf, is irrelevant," Jareth smiled, "The ball tonight, however, is not. You are attending." He wasn't about to give Toby a choice in the matter. Sick or not, pregnant or not, the King's mate had to be at his side on formal occasions no matter what. "What is Kyfrem giving you to wear tonight?"

"I don't know," Toby admitted, "He's going overboard getting me, well, pregnancy clothes. I don't think he quite approves of me having a baby and so he's feeling a little guilty about it."

Jareth sighed and helped his lover to the bed. "Lie down," he instructed, "And stay there. Kyfrem is an imbecile, but he will not have forgotten tonight."

And the goblin valet had not, luckily. Unluckily, the outfit Jareth found was not something he had been expecting.

"A corset?" he exploded, the flinging the garment to the ground with a flick of his strong wrist, "What in the name of the Gods is that fool thinking?"

Toby sat up quickly, regretted it, and stared at the discarded garment in some amusement. "Actually, I asked him to get that," the mortal grinned, "Try the ivory suit on the chair there. I think that's what I'm wearing."

Jareth walked out, kicked the dropped garment half-way across the room and stared critically at the perfectly innocent suit that lay draped over the back of an ornate chair. The dark green brocade of the chair's seat did not quite set the fine cloth off to advantage, but from what Jareth could tell, it looked fine. "Good," he approved, regaining his temper and turning back with a satisfied nod, only to see his lover out of bed and picking the abused corset off the floor. "Why are you out of bed?"

"Because you are ruining my clothes," Toby snapped, blue eyes flashing fire, "Stop kicking my stuff around. It's very rude of you."

Jareth sighed. "Why do you possess a corset?" he asked curiously, "You have no breasts, no need for either support or embellishment of this sort. Why buy it?"

Toby blushed and fiddled with one of the long bones encased in the black material. "There was this dream," he excused. The mismatched eyes glinted at him with certain delight. "No, stop gloating. It was one of yours."

The delight vanished. "Mine?"

"Well, it had to be," Toby protested, walking unsteadily past Jareth to put the corset back into his closet, "It was ages ago, before you came for me, and I've certainly never dreamed of wearing such a ridiculous outfit. It, um, was for your birthday. Only I guess I forgot what day it was. And I underestimated how terrible I would feel." He stuck his head out and smiled weakly- "Uh, surprise?"

Jareth raised an eyebrow.

Toby gave up. "Look, it was meant to be a surprise before I even knew about the whole dance tradition. I thought, you know, dinner and this. You'd be happy; I'd be happy- everyone wins. Then I got pregnant and you started talking about balls."

Jareth's mouth twitched.

"And get your mind out of the gutter. You know I didn't mean that. Honestly!"

Jareth smirked gently as he captured his bond mate and drew him back to the bed. Ever since that night a few weeks ago, he'd been careful not to leave his elf to his own devises. Especially now that there was a child to think of; Gods, but he was so nervous of that! Toby would not know, naturally; Jareth was careful to lock that part of his mind away from his bond mate, easily manipulating the bond with his skill.

"Thank you," he whispered, pausing to lick the shell of one ear, "I appreciate it. But perhaps we can compromise."

Toby looked up in suspicion. "We can?" he questioned dubiously.

Jareth shrugged, looking positively evil with that look on his face. "Wear the outfit," he put forth, "The ball will be a masquerade. No one need know you until the end. You could even disappear before the unmasking and change into something less dashing. It would be our secret, hmmm?"

Toby thought about that. He'd seen the rooms being prepared for the ball. His husband had received the inevitable delegation from the Fairy Kingdom at some hideous hour of the night, led this time by the redoubtable Fairy Queen herself. Jareth had been angry enough to shake the foundations at being awakened from his sleep to greet the selfish bitch, and his temper hadn't improved by the time he'd come back to bed at nearly dawn. As for the rest, it would be mostly dignitaries and nobles from the Goblin Kingdom, a few of the last remaining Old Houses of the Dwarfs, an Elf Lord of ancient lineage and the humans from the Ivory Tower.

"You want me to wear the outfit I was planning to wear in private for you in front of everyone at this ball?"

Jareth blinked with innocent enquiry.

Toby sighed. He had, after all, forgotten Jareth's birthday. He might as well make it up with this mad scheme of his. "Fine. I'll wear the outfit. What time is it?"

"Past ten in the morning," Jareth supplied, "Go back to bed. Kyfrem will come for you when it is time to dress." Toby pouted, directing a thought to his husband. "No, I am not staying with you. I certainly don't want to sleep all day. And I do have guests to attend to. Unless I strangle them before this night."

"I advise you not to," Toby sighed, "Oh, my head! Is Archer here?"

"The Queen has left him to tend to the country in her stead," Jareth frowned, "I've told the cow that he had better attend the ball or there will be hell to pay on the next trade agreements. I think she will send for him tonight."

"That's good. Run along then, and let me sleep. Don't kill anyone and please remember not to pick fights with the fairies? I'd kiss you but I'm afraid my mouth will taste horrible."

"Yes, it probably does. Sleep. I will see you tonight."

Jareth disappeared out of the room, a last chaste kiss on his forehead speeding the mortal into a half-wakeful doze filled with plans and thoughts. After all, Toby smirked, there was still a birthday present to be planned.

That evening, Kyfrem went out of his way to coax his Lord into a hectic dressing regime that made Toby feel like a high-class prostitute being prepared for her most lucrative client. But once the bathing and primping and curling and buckling were done, he had to admit that even he would not have recognized himself.

What was more, none of the guests did either. Toby asked Kyfrem to wait in his room for Jareth, leaving a note explaining that the King's consort had already made his way downstairs to mingle with the crowd in secret. Jareth was to enter the ballroom alone. Then the mortal simply used his new powers of apparition to appear at the fringes of the glittering horde and take his seat in a dark corner.

The fairies were evidently not in attendance yet, judging by the fact that Toby vaguely recognized a few of the people milling around as being goblins or humans. It seemed the less important people had already been gathered and he took a seat with studied casualness as his blue eyes observed the people from the slits of a black velvet mask tied to his face. Since most were unmasked as yet and others had a habit of forgetting to hold their masks over their faces, Toby was instantly singled out as a point of interest.

But it was indeed a sight.

The room was enormous, with high ceilings and polished marble floors. Jareth had enchanted his ceilings to exude a kind of unearthly glow; so covered as they were with pricked black velvet the artistic illusion of the night sky was gloriously decadent when coupled with the sconces of softly glowing candles that stood tall against the walls. Beaten panels of silver hung everywhere, etchings of the history of the Goblin Kings worked into them. They were obviously done by different artists, for some were austere and some were fantastical; some were simple poses and some were of great deeds. Conspicuously, however, one panel was missing- that of Jareth's father. The gap was more noticeable for being flanked by a stern looking goblin on the left and by a simple sketch of Jareth on the right. No one seemed to comment on the fact and Toby had long stopped asking for reasons.

A fanfare of trumpets sounded from nowhere and the King's personal bodyguards saluted as the party of tall, well-dressed strangers drew near, shimmering like pastel statues in the ethereal light.

Toby felt his eyes narrow behind his mask speculatively: the Fairy Queen had arrived. The dainty figure swept forward, followed by a bevy of attendants as she swanned across the room to a group of heavy-looking carved chairs. They were all dressed in white, as was customary for Fairy nobility, the only colour being themselves and the ornaments they wore.

The Queen herself- a chestnut haired woman with a sweet mouth- was wearing a white dress with a scarlet sash. Jareth had already explained that the Royal colour of the Fairy Queen was scarlet, and that the colour was chosen according to the monarch's aura. Jareth's own colour was silver, and as such it was used to full effect during Royal functions. Toby was highly amused to note that none of the fairies, with exception of a dark-haired male who he suspected was Archer, wore any silver ornaments or silver cloth. All wore gold earrings and necklaces, the heavy intricacies of their work so very different from the austere simplicities that Jareth favoured.

Toby stood languidly, rising to circle the crowd. He felt the eyes of a few in the room follow his slow steps and deliberately began to weave a slow, delicate sensuality around himself. He touched nothing and no one, even when he gracefully evaded someone in his way, twirling away on higher heels than he was wont to wear to continue his walk down his pre-determined path. He'd had to practise all evening to get his balance properly in those shoes. But Kyfrem was right; they did look pretty.

Jareth paused in the doorway to take in the scene. None had noticed the entrance of the Goblin King as yet and truthfully, Jareth would not wanted them to. Even without thought his eyes had been arrested by the small, slender figure winding its way through the room, golden hair a wild mass of curls around his velvet masked face with the enchanting tip-tilted wide mouth. The billowing arms of the white shirt beneath the corset were silk and almost transparent even in the half-light, suggesting tantalizing glimpses of silken skin beneath. And the black corset was pulled tight over the tiny waist, accentuating and highlighting the delicately flat curves of his lover's torso. And what a sight his lover made!

Jareth leaned against the doorway, a smirk flickering over his bloodless lips as the nonchalant figure paused regally before the fairies. He raised an eyebrow in surprise as it then proceeded to sketch a low, mocking bow with infinite care and grace before swaying indifferently away. So Kyfrem had taught him a few courtly gestures! Jareth was suitably impressed.

Toby knew Jareth was watching. He had felt the beloved gaze burn into his skin like a hot knife. He had felt the connection between them buzz, had felt Jareth's heated admiration grow with every heart-stopping second. And this entire show was for Jareth.

"My King," he breathed softly, dropping to one knee before the Goblin King.

Jareth smiled slightly, asking his bond mate in his mind what exactly he thought he was doing.

"Your present," Toby whispered, so low no one but the king himself could hear a word, even though all were straining to grasp the meaning of this intriguing display, "Unwrap me as you will, flaunt me as you will... use me as you will."

Definitely Kyfrem's work. Jareth determined to reward the little goblin for such wonderful transformations. A slender white finger ringed with black opal slid into the curls. "Do you know what you give?"

Toby pondered his answer and smiled, a pink tongue peeping out to lick at his unnaturally reddened lips. "I only give you what I hold the most precious," he said clearly, picking his words with care so as to be better understood by those of the Underground.

Jareth's fingers dropped slightly to the silver encrusted choker that his husband wore. "Your gift is accepted. Up; at my side."

Toby obeyed breathlessly, a warm rush of release slamming through him to slither sinuously through his gut to pool in his thighs. If Jareth felt the energy, he neither commented nor reacted; the half-goblin drew one golden hand through his arm and turned to level a coldly amused glance around the room.

"Greetings," he called, "Welcome to my humble abode."

A small ripple of laughter greeted his irony. Even at its most gothic, the Castle of the Goblin King could never be called humble. In the Underground, the fame of this land and the powerful Goblin King was legendary, infiltrating even the Lawless Kingdom so that no outlaws dared to attack any but the smallest of the goblin villages. And no matter Jareth's past, the enigmatic Goblin King had carved a feared and respected place for himself in his society.

"You honour me with your presence, and I offer you thanks for your wishes on my behalf. Eat well, drink better, and find your pleasures in my hospitality."

His short speech of welcome done, Jareth entered through the delicately wrought arched entrance, his bond mate on his arm and the lust for life dancing in his veins. There was an almost electric surge in his heart as he approached the faeries, laughing inside himself at Archer's congratulatory grin and the way that the Fairy Queen was turning up her perfectly shaped aquiline nose. "Queen Amarild," he greeted, dropping an insolent nod of the head to her. There was no need for him to bow low over her hand; but even if such an action had been demanded with a reversal of their positions, he would not have done so, "My greetings, fair Queen. You grace my halls at last."

"Yes," she sighed, rising courteously to her feet, "Decorum demanded it, did it not? My congratulations were already pending on your nuptials; I ask the Gods for good wishes on you and your bond mate. Is he indisposed at the moment? Or will he join us later?"

Toby hurriedly stopped a chuckle at Archer's panicked look at the back of that carefully coiffed chestnut head. "He is," he answered, speaking hurriedly before Jareth could, "The King's bond mate asked me to present his apologies to this illustrious crowd. He is rather unwell lately. I am to take his place for this night."

The Queen looked taken-aback. She had every reason to be, after all, for she had naturally assumed that the fire-blond flaunting himself like a high-class concubine was the Goblin King's new consort. True, she had expected to find the mortal to be ungainly, sullen, opinionated, defensive and proud of his new station in life and it certainly explained why this thin child with the soft face seemed to be none of those things. But it appeared that the Goblin King was simply continuing his old ways and old lovers in spite of marriage.

"I see," she said slowly, "A worthy position on this auspicious day. By what name are you known?"

Toby laughed, loudly and wildly, throwing back his golden curls to expose the silver-encrusted black choker that sat on his slender golden throat. "Cloud," he said, "Call me Cloud."

Jareth stifled a smirk behind an extravagant flourish of a bow before leading his partner away to greet the other guests. "Cloud?" he whispered into a golden ear.

Toby openly pressed his cheek to Jareth's, rubbing sensuously like a cat, purring low in his throat to the shock of a properly brought up goblin lady. When he looked up, a pair of grey eyes was seeking him out with some amusement. The personage wore a long green tunic not unlike the style of the fairies, with fitted leggings underneath. A loose, open coat-like outer garment was fastened around his delicate frame, the dark brown a perfect foil to his long silver-grey hair. His skin was deeply olive-tinted, seemingly burnt dark by the sun. His eyes were startling under dark eyelashes and burned with a feverish wildness, as if standing on a mountaintop in the midst of a storm.

"My Lord." This time, Jareth let go of Toby's hand to drop a reverential bow to the male still gazing at them both with his wild grey eyes.

"Your Majesty," the male replied in kind, his lined face still beautiful with the smile he directed to them. "May you find much happiness in your four-hundred-and-fifty-third year, and naturally in all the years to follow. But it seems you already have the means to do so."

The grey eyes swung once more to Toby. Unlike with the masked disapproval of the Fairy Queen, Toby found himself slightly shy around those grey eyes. They knew too much of nature and people, seemingly able to pierce the depths of the soul with hardly a glance.

"My Lord, may I present Cloud- my companion for the night since it seems my consort is unwell and unable to attend," Jareth said blandly, "Cloud, may I present Lord Pelinlas, last remaining nobleman of the elves in the Underground."

"An elf?" Toby stared in wonder, greedy blue eyes travelling up and down the graceful presence as if to imprint it on his memory.

Lord Pelinlas allowed the stare, smiling with some secret amount of amusement at the youngster so engrossed in him. Had he wanted, he could easily have mentioned that he knew the young male to be none other than Lord Toby, the King's mortal consort, and that he heartily liked the pretty charade that the two were playing. As an elf, he had been exposed to most of the intricacies of nature, and he found nothing more enjoyable than to watch two lovers who danced the age-old dance of give-and-take like a pair of courting sparrows.

He had barely had these thoughts when the blue eyes blinked and the honey-pale skin began to tint red with a blush. "I am sorry," Toby murmured, dipping his head in respect, "I never meant to stare."

"A cat may look at a King," the Elf Lord replied soothingly, "As any may look at an aging Elf Lord. Look all you require. Your child will never see such as I, for I fear this will be my last visit to your Kingdom's heart."

Toby stiffened with surprise and then felt Jareth's sorrow loosed with shock and a futile flash of denial.

"You feel death approach?" the Goblin King asked sadly, "Is there nothing to keep it at bay? I would give much to preserve your life a few years more." Unconsciously he slipped away into the dialect of the Underground, words flowing in ornate and elaborate ways through the channels of conversation.

The elf shook his silver-grey head in determined gentleness. "Nature will demand death," he warned, "And as nature decrees it, so shall it be obeyed. You know that, King of the Goblins. I shall not fight it, as I have always instructed you not to."

"I was never your best pupil," Jareth allowed ruefully, "I do not think death should be allowed if it can be halted."

"That is because you still have life ahead of you. My time to leave is near and I accept it wholeheartedly. You will see when your time comes, you will not resist when death calls to end your life with eternal rest."

Toby shifted nearer to his husband, uncomfortable with all the talk of death. This was Jareth's birthday. The half-goblin had assured him that he could well live for the next five hundred years or more, even as Toby never would. Toby couldn't imagine Jareth's life ever finding completion with death; it was too final, too much of an ending for someone whose life seemed to flow with the land itself.

The elf seemed to sense this distress for he turned once more to the captivating person and nodded. Leaning forward, he laid a worn hand over the mortal's stomach, warm even through the corset and shirt as he chanted a low blessing in elvish for the child.

"Your child will be happy," he said simply, bowing as he stepped back to take his leave, "And your child will be safe. You need ask for no more."

Then he was gone, disappearing rapidly in the waves of people that took the opportunity to crowd around Jareth and his partner, anxious to see whom it was that the King had on his arm. For pretty as his consort had been, surely the mortal was not capable of something so abandoned as this? After all, he was just a child, innocent and protected, not some sensual peacock strutting through the crowd in high-heeled boots and corsets, a plume of small black feathers pinned amongst his curls like the decoration in a lady's hair.

Jareth simply laughed in private, a possessive hand on the small of his demure secret's back as he made his way through the crowds to the centre of the room, glorying in the brief brush of hip and shoulder that his lover gifted to him with seemingly naïve frequency.