Author's Note: Continues just at the end of the ball. For those who did not read the updated Chapter 11, the Elf Lord is named Pelinlas (thanks to Navaer Lalaith and her website on Tolkien's elvish). The name means 'Fading Leaf', which I thought to be appropriate.

Author's Note 2: Obviously have no claimto 'Velvet Goldmine' (the song); all rights belong to David Bowie.

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The two were standing on opposite sides of the room, conversing with different groups of people. Toby was intent on being the most outrageous person he could be, deliberately weaving dramatic tales and exclamations into his voice to seem as someone other than who he was.

Every so often, though, he would catch a glance from a pair of dual-coloured eyes across the room, and the noise around him would soften to a distant roar as Jareth nodded and smiled. He would blush and look away, careful not to stand near anyone smoking and very discreetly drinking nothing that he did not pour for himself. Arienne had warned him that the pregnancy would be a delicate one, being as his body was not really constructed for it. And already he felt he would give his life for the child inside him.

Through the course of the evening it had become clear to many that the young male who had captured the Goblin King's attention so very thoroughly was not only capable of being less than innocent, but was alas not someone who flirted with anything more than mischievous intent.

Lord Pelinlas noted it to a Goblin dignitary, talking quietly to the other older persons while sipping on a single glass of wine. Death was weighing heavily on his limbs and the reflective solace it brought sometimes blanketed out every other presence around him. But for once, the Elf Lord felt life stir in him as he watched the invisible link stretch achingly tense between the Goblin King and his bond mate.

He smiled slightly, wondering what Jareth would say were he to shoo the two of them off to their bed chamber in front of everyone. The Goblin King would be insulted; Jareth would simply laugh. There were so many sides to the half-goblin that sometimes the elf wondered if such a youth was not the wisest decision that Jareth had ever made. Toby would, at least, have the chance to grow with him, not around him.

"Pelinlas?"

And speaking of Jareth... "Jareth. Your wine is especially fine tonight. Cinnamon?"

"Yes," the Goblin King grinned, "And how my father would rage were he to know. Cinnamon was never one of his favourites."

"As were male-to-male bindings," Firielas mentioned, noting the immediate look of dark anger that descended over the carved features, "Does Toby know?"

"No. And it will remain that way." Implacable. Jareth had no trouble disposing of someone who he had once held dear. He had had the practise of it at too impressionable a time to know any other way. And Pelinlas was wise enough not to doubt that.

"Very well. But one day your consort will need to be told," the Elf Lord warned, "The burden is too much for you to bear now. What happens when you hold your son in your arms, knowing what you know about yourself?"

"When that happens, Toby will there," Jareth sighed, a grey look descending over his face. For no reason at all the Goblin King looked weary and heartsick. Unbeknownst to him, Toby felt that, breaking off all conversations to walk quickly to where his lover was suffering. "He will protect my son when the time arrives."

"You do not doubt it will arise?"

Jareth shrugged. "How can I doubt it? My father scarred me for life. Experience tells me that such scarring carries from generation to generation. If once a goblin kills, chances are his offspring will inherit the ability. My father's crime was no less and my symptoms are not reassuring."

Pelinlas nodded behind him to the wide-eyed youth who stood looking anxiously from one to the other. Jareth stiffened as he felt the presence, already berating himself for speaking of it so openly. The touch of an elvish hand on his cheek stilled him. "Your father's crimes were worse," the elf promised him, "But remember he acted from love; seeking to protect only what was yours by right."

Jareth nodded, pressing silently against that hand. Over four hundred years ago he had first felt it when running through his Labyrinth, determined to escape from the shame that haunted him day and night. And Pelinlas had emerged from the safety of his tree dwelling to comfort a sobbing child in the pouring rain. Jareth had received much from that hand- education, comfort, joy and finally a blessing. It gave him the strength to push the darkness from him and nod, stepping away with a short bow to take his bond mate for a short walk around the room on their own.

Most people were drunk or well on their way to being so. The Castle was expected to be full to bursting capacity with those who were unable to make their way to their own homes, and with those who wanted to forget normal life with an equally free lover beneath the Goblin King's roof. Toby sometimes wondered if near-immortality made someone want more sex. Or whether it was just the high physical awareness that the goblins and fairies seemed to possess.

Toby sighed in distraction, head rising to look Jareth in the eye once more. But the half-goblin was gazing elsewhere, a hard look on his face that belied the dizzying wave of sorrow that Toby felt reflected into his mind. It was all very peculiar. "Tell me about your parents," he tried softly, "I know nothing of your family."

"And that is for the best." Jareth's hand had unconsciously tightened on his husband's waist, digging deep even through the corset and the white shirt to leave bruises. "My father was proud; a good king and a responsible parent. My mother was proud too, embittered from living amongst those who despised her but thankful for the son she could call her own. They were magnificent people and terrible parents. Neither would have approved of you."

"Oh." That was not encouraging.

Jareth seemed to be reading his thoughts again- "Had my father been alive, I would have been refused permission to formally bind with you. As my King, he had every right to do so, as I will have with our child."

Toby squirmed. The fingers were becoming almost unbearable and yet, they seemed as much a part of this game they were playing. He had craved such a contact for many weeks now, unsure of how to broach the subject with Jareth. And the Goblin King was always careful never to push him beyond the limits of safety, unfortunately; it was what made the night so appealing to him beyond Jareth's pleasure.

"So you're saying that he had the right to make your decisions for you? What if you were old enough to do that yourself?"

"I was never old enough until I was King. The age of majority is twenty-nine for any except the heir. I could not exist except for the good of the Kingdom as dictated by its King. And in any case, even were my father alive today, he would still have to be consulted as you are extremely underage at sixteen."

"I am?" Toby turned that over in his mind. He had never thought about it, but most people his age were concerned more with school and dates and jobs and drinking until all hours of the night. Heck, most guys his age were interested in saving up to buy cars. No one he could think of was likely to be dealing with a husband and baby. Except maybe Stephanie Holster- "Oh God, I'm Stephanie Holster!"

Jareth frowned slightly. "I thought you were Cloud," he asked dryly.

"No, not that, but I'm having a baby and I'm too young to have a baby! Never mind the fact that I'm male. What's going to happen to me when I turn twenty-one and I get fat and boring?"

Jareth blinked. And then laughed, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "Oh Gods," he sighed, "My elf, I think you are being a little melodramatic. Yes, you are young, but there are many who have children at your time of life. And simply because the age of adulthood is twenty-nine, it does not mean that sixteen year olds are forbidden from marriage. It is a natural process. And no, you will not get fat."

"I won't? Keep talking."

Jareth pulled him into his arms, one hand pressing lightly against the mortal's middle. "You will simply get swollen," he soothed, "Your abdomen and stomach will be distended, but have you ever seen a pregnant woman?"

"Yeah. And she looked frazzled and uncomfortable and... oh. Eugh!"

Jareth chuckled once more, reaching up to take a golden curl in his fingers. "Many would find it attractive."

"Are you telling me you find pregnant woman attractive?" Toby was not quite certain whether to be flattered or repulsed. "You know, you're weird."

Jareth grinned. "Think, luv. Under all that expanse of mid-section will be our child. Are you expecting me not to find that attractive?"

"Let's change the subject," Toby begged hurriedly. There was a rather wild look in his husband's eyes. And while the whole purpose of this night was to completely surrender to the Goblin King's will, there were still certain places he didn't want to go.

"I'm afraid we cannot. I think I should announce your condition before everyone is too drunk to remember."

Toby looked around hopefully, looking for at least a few of the drunks he needed to postpone the announcement. Unfortunately, they all looked distressingly sober for what Jareth had in mind. He sighed, looked up to the half-goblin's enquiring eyes and nodded. "I guess so," he ceded.

Jareth squeezed his arm sympathetically. "You may leave if you wish," he whispered, leading him to the centre of the room, "I can handle them alone."

"It's my body, Jareth. And this binding works both ways, right? You get to keep me safe; I stand by you. Oh crap, I'm standing by my man!"

The boy looked so disgusted with himself that Jareth ended up pulling his bond mate to him and placing a sound kiss on his mouth before letting him go. Turning, he cast his eyes over the assembly and clapped his gloved hands for attention. His presence seemed to grow to fill the entire room.

"Guests and friends," Jareth called, "A few moments of your time, if you please." The last of the conversations drifted away. "Judging by the quantities of spirits that my goblins have brought in here, I think it is now safe for the unmasking to take place."

Jareth himself had been walking around with a black demon's mask in his hand, negligently laying it down somewhere only to pick it out of thin air when he felt like wearing it again. For the most part he had remained unmasked, leaving his face free for recognition by his guests and servants, though none but the most visually impaired would have failed to note him by his wild blond hair or black-encased slender body.

"On the stroke of thirteen, let the masks fall," he instructed.

"It's the thirteen hour?" someone called dubiously, "I am certain there is more time left for that."

Jareth sighed theatrically and pointed a long finger to the enormous clock in the room. "Time moves in mysterious ways, my friend," he smiled, moving the hands as he sped it to less than a minute before the appointed time. A general laugh greeted his action and the dissembler raised a silent toast to the Goblin King. "We have thirty seconds," he shouted.

There were no countdowns or bated tensions in the room. Everyone simply watched the hands of the clock, waiting like statues for that one moment when the clock would chime. The clock itself was noiseless, seeming to make no sound at all as it idled away the seconds with a carefully precise rhythm.

The clock chimed.

The masks were ripped off and everyone turned to look at their companions, some with feigned surprise, others in real wonder. Jareth chucked his black demon's mask away with a careless hand, more for effect than for any reason to reveal himself. And then he turned to Toby.

Toby was afraid. Not for the first time he wondered whether his behaviour would not have severe repercussions. His rapist had never been caught and he had sworn an oath, ridiculous as it was, to never give to anyone what his tormentor claimed for himself. Now, not only was he married but he had publicly flaunted himself as some kind of tarty tramp. He shuddered to imagine what his punishment would be.

Jareth seemed to realize that for he reached to take his secret into his arms, tilting his chin up as he pressed a soft kiss to the wide mouth. "Obey me," he whispered.

In the end it was that which made the mortal wrench the mask from his face, pulling it away to dangle from one finger.

In spite of his worry, the Goblin King felt a bolt of possessive pride slam down his spine at the collective gasp of surprise at his lover's wild, exotic look. It was not that he was simply better looking than anyone else in the room. There much in his bone structure that was wrong or muddled- his mouth was too wide, his cheeks were too hollowed, his eyebrows arched a dark blond with too flamboyant an arc- but together... Jareth would not have traded places with anyone else in the room for the world.

"Honoured guests and friends, may I present to you my consort- Toby Williams." A fae lady broke into a coughing fit, stunned to find that the man she had been making suggestive remarks to all night was, in fact, her host's bond mate.

Jareth, for his part, did not care about all those who looked uncomfortable at the memory of something they had said or done to the mortal youth. He drew Toby's cold fingers through his arm, establishing his claim very firmly. "I would like to make an announcement," he continued coolly, "The Goblin Kingdom has long awaited an heir. The wait is over. The heir is conceived and will be birthed in six months."

There was complete silence at first. But slowly, the goblins came forward, determined not to let their King be disgraced before the faeries, no matter their private thoughts. And the dwarves were happy enough for the couple, more used as they were to adapting to strange customs or changes in circumstances.

The two blond humans from the Ivory Tower were stunned to watch the Fairy Lord push to his feet, pale and ghostly over the news. Amarild looked visibly disgusted, her pretty mouth screwed up with distaste over the business. She came forward and stood before the Goblin King and his mate. Jareth moved slightly to put Toby a little behind him, challenging her with his eyes to dare voice her actual opinion. "May the Gods find favour with you," she finally said stiffly, dropping a light curtsy before retreating.

Archer was equally stiff and Toby stared after him with no little trepidation, only to find Jareth laughing silently beside him. He raised enquiring eyes at him. His answer was a gentle kiss that made him gasp. "Do not worry," Jareth petted, "He will come around."

The ball ended on a lighter note as everyone used the excuse of shock to either retreat to their allotted bedchambers or cluster around the tables still groaning with drinks. The food had long ago disappeared; only to be replaced by sweetmeats and creamy chocolate as the wine and spirits were replaced by brandies and liqueurs.

It was almost the dawn when Jareth and Toby found themselves straggling back to their private corridor, stopping their slow progress to kiss gently a few times. Toby let himself be moved as Jareth willed, begging silently for more even though he unconsciously pushed that desire into the darker recesses of his mind.

The door closed behind them with a quiet click, shutting as Jareth turned and motioned to his husband to strip.

Toby sighed, drained beyond all measure by the exertions of the night, but the night was not over and Jareth had received only half his present. He pulled off the thigh-length boots, glad to come down off the high-heels that made his arches ache. A simple tug at the feathers pulled them loose from his curls and he went to the dresser to place them on the table.

He could see Jareth's patient face in the mirror, and he looked to him. There was so much he wanted from him, but true to form he had no way to ask. It wouldn't work if he had to ask. Jareth would have to find out for himself. He carefully shut down that path of thought as he efficiently wiped the make-up off his face. That done, he looked once more to the black draped figure by the door.

"I need a little help with the corset," he said softly, "I can't reach the back."

Long white fingers ghosted down his spine, slowly unhooking the bone contraption. Toby heaved a sigh of relief as the thing came off him, allowing unrestricted breathing for the first time all night. Hands rose to massage his shoulders, easing the tension from them with sensitive fingers.

"Come to bed, luv. You're tired."

"But I haven't given you your present yet," Toby teased, smiling at the reflection in the mirror.

"Let's keep it for the morning, hmmm? When both of us are rested?" Jareth's voice sent little shock waves down his spine as the Goblin King nuzzled lightly against his hair. "My elf...my velvet goldmine."

"What?"

Mismatched eyes glinted in the gathering light of dawn, the candles flickering as the wind whispered around the room. The silver and blue furnishings were cast into shadow where the light did not touch. And Toby was so tired.

Jareth smirked gently and turned his lover, pulling him gently to the bed as he began to hum the song:

"Velvet goldmine... you stroke me like the rain..."

Toby laughed and followed, collapsing on the bed and pulling Jareth down on top of him, sighing as the weight of the half-goblin pressed him into the mattress.

"Velvet goldmine... naked on your chain... I'll be your king volcano right for you again and again, my velvet goldmine..."

Toby shut his eyes, unable to keep the smile from his face as Jareth crooned the words in his ears. "You have the funniest romantic songs," he commented sleepily.

Jareth flicked the tip of the short nose and bit at Toby's neck, unlacing the choker so his husband could sleep. It had been a long time since he had sung this song; many years since he had written it and he'd forgotten just how dated the lyrics were:

"You're my taste, you're my trip, I'll be your master zip... I'll suck your hair for kicks, you'll make me jump to my feet... so you'll give me your hand... give me your sound... let my sea wash your face... I'm falling; I can't stand..."

Toby muttered something and Jareth gathered him up into his arms, magically lifting both to a comfortable position, and then pulling the blankets up over them. He continued with the humming, remembering how wonderful life had been when he'd written that song, doing hash with a beautiful woman, watching her tie his hands with a chiffon scarf... and now here he was, resting with another such one in his arms.

His fingers slid down to trace the knife scar on his lover's stomach, mindful of what grew inside it. The thought of a child made him faint, sickening him with fear that only served to anger him. His child would not be harmed; nothing would happen!

"Promise me," Jareth whispered softly, "Promise me that you'll stop me hurting our child." An innocent... his child...

Jareth went to bed with a headache.