Author's Note: And just when we thought things were getting untangled!

-----------------------------------

"Gwenél..."

The elf maiden looked up from the vegetable she was peeling and smiled encouragingly. Toby hesitated a moment in the doorway and then came in, taking a seat opposite her on the floor with a nod of thanks. She continued with her task and he marvelled at her serenity as the world outside her door went to hell in a spectacular blaze of glory.

"Gwenél, I was just wondering if you could give me a few answers," he asked politely.

The brown head nodded and the knife went on peeling. Toby shuddered and looked the other way: knives were still taboo subjects. He preferred not to deal with them.

"Speak, my Lord. I will tell you what I can."

"It's not 'my lord'; it's Toby. After over a month, I thought you'd remember that. I'm a little confused here. Maegorod and Brethiliaur said- said something about the bond a while ago. Now, I know the bond means certain things but I'm not quite sure that anyone's told me the whole picture."

"No one knows the whole picture," Gwenél answered, a whimsical glance thrown his way, "It takes many years of study to come to a proper understanding of the bond, study such as your bond mate has done."

"Jareth studied this?" It sounded vaguely disturbing.

"The King of the Goblins must have been very lonely. A lonely creature wants to know what it is that is missing from its life. It is the nature of all living things."

Toby couldn't say why, but the impression of Jareth wishing and hoping for someone to love him didn't quite tally with his limited understanding of that Person. "How much did he understand of it?"

"Who can say? The more the scholars know, the more complex it becomes."

"How long did he study? It wasn't just to find out why he bonded with a baby, was it?"

"For many years before you," she agreed, "He prepared himself for that day with compulsion. He knew not when it would be, but my father often remarked that the thought of having someone belong to him made the idea very attractive for Jareth."

That sounded more like it. Still a little sad, but more plausible. "I see. So a bond mate belongs to another? They were right, then, when they said that I was a submissive to Jareth. I see."

Gwenél put the knife down and frowned, considering the statement as if something troubled her. "If Brethiliaur and Maegorod have offended you in some manner, then I must apologize for them. We do not know your ways."

"Oh, I'm not offended," Toby reassured, "Just a little startled. Jareth didn't mention it. He only said a bond was made out of mutual need and an emotional connection. He wasn't lying about that, was he?"

"No. No, he was not lying. He has not told you certain things, but he has not lied to you."

There was nothing more said on the subject for a while, and the two went about their business with quiet absorption in other matters. Maegorod oversaw the training of the mortal in the elfish use of magic- the more formal version of the Goblin King being out of the elf's range of ability- and Gwenél and Brethiliaur attempted to gain news of the happenings in the outside world. Sir Didymus went hunting with Ludo and Ambrosius and Hoggle doggedly tended the garden.

But Toby found himself casting suspicious glances at his tutor's bowed red head. "How did Jareth find out about you guys?"

Maegorod never looked up from the spear he was mending, but the set of his shoulders made his attention clear. "Lord Pelinlas befriended him as a youth and they were close."

Toby nodded and went back to playing with the stones. His daughter was busy trying to be a tiger cub hunting butterflies. At any other times he would have been amused. His Arradine was wilful, but charming. Just like her father. He found himself looking for those comparisons more now that he was a little more aware of what he had got himself into. It explained a lot of things. Toby wondered how he had never seen it before. It was so obvious! Even his parents must have noticed. Toby hadn't been particularly restrained with his reactions to Jareth. He'd thought he'd been, but looking back he wasn't so sure.

And Jareth. That little episode with the games and the… Toby felt just a little angry about that. Jareth had known all along, and he hadn't done anything.

Alright, so Toby knew very well he would have been furious and upset if Jareth had really said anything in words about controlling him. Marriage proposals and warnings aside, Toby hadn't been looking for an actual owner or anything. He'd just needed certain things. And Jareth had known but hadn't provided it? Why? What the hell had possessed him?

"You're frowning, Toby."

"I'm fucking angry."

The elf didn't move a muscle. He didn't know what the word 'fuck' meant, but concluded from the mortal's tone that it meant nothing happy. Open concern would only make Toby pull away. That trick by the lake was still too fresh in all their minds. Maegorod tended to the edge of his spear and kept his eyes turned down. "If there is some way I can help, I am all ears."

"You can't help. Unless you can get me out of this fucking war zone."

"You can do that on your own, mellon nín."

"Really. Wonderful! I can go Aboveground and then Amarild can come after me to make sure that my daughter never lives to speak her word. Along the way, she can kill me too and then kill my family while she's at it. She's probably on her way here right now. Picking up that damned obvious trail we must have made on our way here!"

"What bothers you, Toby?"

The stone flicked out and flew into the pile on the ground, scattering it. "What am I doing here?" he grit out, "I'm putting everyone in danger and I don't even know my own bond mate. His past, his character... I don't know anything."

"You know enough," Maegorod countered softly, putting the spear aside.

"Yeah, just about enough to say I've met him," Toby snapped sarcastically, "I never stopped to think about it. I knew he had a problem with giving up control but now you tell me that that's perfectly normal, given the situation. What about his father? What happened? Will it affect Arradine? And me- what happens when he's tired of me? What happens when I grow old? Will I die if he dies? Will he feel my pain if I get hurt or ill? What about Arradine? Is she immortal? Mortal? A mortal immortal, even? What about powers; what can or can't I do?"

Maegorod held up a hand, stopping the avalanche of questions from smothering them both. While Toby stopped to take a breath, he settled on his stomach on the grass and got comfortable. The gaining of knowledge was a serious business for the elves, and they liked knowledge. After all, knowledge was power. They also liked sharing it, for- as every elf knew- power corrupted those who sought to possess it solely.

"First," he began, "His past I cannot tell you, at least where his father is concerned. It is forbidden for any to speak of it without permission. Only your bond mate may tell you all. As for your child- yes, it will affect her. But perhaps not in the manner you fear. Have you never thought his problems might make him a more caring father?"

Seeing the mortal blush, the elf concluded that he hadn't.

"Second," he continued, "You are mortal. That cannot change. But bound to such a powerful immortal influence as the Goblin King, you will be touched by the appearance of immortality. Your body will most likely stop aging at some point quite soon. Your spirit will not do so, so whether you will live as long as your bond mate is unknown. Though the bond has been a part of you since your infancy; perhaps you will assume more of the immortal ways. Only time will tell."

"Jareth never told me that either."

"Toby, none of this is certain. Very few attain what you have with Jareth. Binding with mortals is even more rare. Jareth possibly could not be certain of his theories."

"Fair enough," Toby sighed, "And Arra?"

"Ah. Now that is less easy. She may be as you- as mortal touched by immortality- or she may be an immortal with a shorter life span. I cannot tell you. No elf can. A healer may do so, or one with the ability to read auras- power such as yours, may I add."

"My power? Or Jareth's?"

"Well, your bond mate's, naturally," Maegorod assured him, "Humans have no real ability to use magic. But as you and your bond mate share a source of power now..."

"So let me get this straight- I can use Jareth's power? All of it? Any time I want?"

"Yes."

"But I am mortal."

"Yes. Therefore you will never have the control over it that your bond mate does. Mortals could never actually withstand the full effect of magic. However, you can still use vast amounts of power in short bursts."

Toby sighed and shook his head glumly. "What about changing to animal forms?" he asked.

"It is a distinct probability that you may do so. But what your animus will be is something you may only find by yourself. May I ask you a question?"

Toby looked wary but said yes. When elves asked him for information, it was never a good sign. Never mind that the sun was shining and serenity sang in the rosebushes. After all, he was the one who didn't know things; these were elves. Surely they knew most everything there was to know?

"What do you see when you close your eyes?"

The mortal was surprised, that was clear. Maegorod brushed his hair out of his eyes and absently began to braid the hair at his temples, getting it securely out of the way for what he was preparing to do. It had been over a month and the boy had walked aimlessly around and become more listless. Now, more than ever, he was determined to begin the tutoring. He knew how aggravating it could be to be confined without pursuits. The spirits knew what he would have done had he not had his spear to train with when first arriving in the Hringer Glade.

Toby crossed his legs and settled into a firmer position on the ground, elbows on his knees and chin in his cupped hands. "Nothing really," he admitted, "Why? It's just dark behind my eyelids."

"Ah." So there was the problem.

"What?" Toby knew that look. That look was universal to people trying to make him do stupid things for his own good. Sarah had had that look when she made him submit a few of his sketches to a local artist for critiquing. It had been so slashed and massacred that he'd almost given up sketching altogether. That look boded trouble.

"Summon a crystal," the elf whispered, drawing to his side, "Now close your eyes."

"What's going to happen?" he asked pointedly.

Maegorod smiled and shook his head. "Don't you trust me, Toby?"

"No."

"Because I would do something to harm you?" Maegorod asked sensibly, "I can promise you not to touch you at all. That was what you worried for by the lake, yes?"

Toby gave in and obeyed somewhat sheepishly, wondering why he was being asked this.

"Do not open your eyes; just feel the crystal in your fingers. What does it feel like?"

"Like a soap bubble made tangible." Shades of his husband in his voice, Toby thought sadly, so much lost and so much taken. The crystal shifted in his fingers and he steadied it.

"All right. Try again. What does the crystal feel like in your fingers?"

"I just..."

"Another description, please. Your own opinion and not another's."

Toby stifled a smirk at that authoritative growl. Maegorod's hoarse voice was well suited to being a schoolteacher, especially because anyone looking at his delicate beauty would not expect it. Greg, the bully from his science class, would probably have tried to give Maegorod hell if he'd stepped out in front of them. Toby could just imagine how the elf would deal with it- likely with that damnably soft sarcasm and swift retaliation. He didn't think elves took assaults on their pride with composure.

"Like a crystal," he protested, "It's nothing more." Again, hadn't those been words that Sarah had told him Jareth had said? 'Just a crystal, nothing more...'

"I see," Maegorod said slowly. He reached out and trailed a finger over Toby's wrist. "Can you feel this?"

"We agreed no touching," Toby snapped, opening his eyes. His crystal was beginning to glow again.

Maegorod took his finger away and smiled at the crystal. "There is a reason that I touched you," he promised, "Did you feel what I traced?"

"If you wrote something it was a fairly straight line," Toby murmured, looking to his wrist. The crystal calmed somewhat. "You traced my vein though."

"Exactly! Is that just a vein? Any vein? Could you cut it open and forget?"

Toby looked up, a little freaked by the question. "No," he answered carefully, "Because then I'd die! And I've already been close enough to death, thank you very much. I don't want a repeat performance."

It was Maegorod's turn to look surprised and a little confused, but he waved the statement away and pointed to the crystal, not daring to pick it up because such power was not safe for any creature to touch unless it was offered. "And knowing that, would you still call this just a crystal?"

Toby stared from the crystal to Maegorod to his arm. A vein... a crystal... blood... magic... "Oh," he said blankly, "I didn't think it was such a big deal."

"Hence the reason that you cannot draw on the true extent of the magic."

Toby picked up the crystal and offered it silently to Maegorod. The elf took it then, and shut his eyes. He wrapped his senses around the crystal and let the magic contained leech slowly through his consciousness. Then he floated it away into the sky. It was not a spectacular display, but the concentration and respect with which he handled the magic was. And his audience was suitably impressed.

"So how do I do that?"

Maegorod rose, picked up his spear with one hand and tossed a small branch to the still-seated mortal with the other. "Practice," he ordered succinctly, "And without crystals. Only when you feel the magic in nature, can you understand the magic in a crystal."

Toby stared at that straight back as it strode away. It reached an embankment of trees and stopped, only to turn and direct a dazzling smile his way. "I have no desire for men, Toby; you may rest easy."

And then he was gone, leaving a confused pupil holding a piece of wood and a baby who yawned.

-------------------------------------------------------

There was pain! By all the Gods, he had never thought that it would hurt so much.

His Master had placed a soothing hand on his arm, shushing him when he tried to say something. "After," his Master assured him, "When this is done and you are rested." Then he had been left to cope alone, left with this strange healer in this frightening situation.

The healer was a sweet-faced female who held her tongue except to tell him what to do, deft hands arranging and encouraging by turns. "That is good. Just a little longer."

He longed to scream, to say that he didn't care how little the long was, it was still long! But since that would make no sense to any of the practical creatures listening to him, he didn't bother. The collar lay passive against his throat, loosened so that he could breathe with no difficulty.

"You must push!"

The effort was almost more than he could bear and everything focused on that tearing, ripping feeling that pulled a rebellious cry from his mouth and then... then there was nothing. What had happened? Why was there no sound? What had he done?

He struggled to sit up and the healer sharply ordered him to lie down. The boy attending him pushed him unceremoniously back to the bed, warning him in a low tone that his Master would flay him alive for disobeying the healer. He almost spat in the boy's face. Gorehna was a cold, vicious little bastard as far as he was concerned. He despised all of the servants except Leela Feared them all just a little too. They knew too much of how to trap him. He craved Leela's presence like a drug at this time. He needed someone- anyone- to let their eyes say that they understood.

Whatever the healer was doing, he couldn't see it. He shut his eyes, an arm flung above his head as he waited anxiously for news. His lower body throbbed and burned and he felt the tears start as the healer laid her hands on him and began to shift him.

Gorehna wrinkled his nose at the smell of blood hanging like a blanket, so claustrophobic it pressed him back into the bed and made him sob quietly.

He needed his Master. If only his Master were here, everything would come right. He'd take five days of punishment without a word if only his Master would come to him now. He needed to feel... something. Pitied? Understood? Loved? He didn't know. But he knew he couldn't hear anything except the quiet sounds of the healer working.

He shut his eyes in despair as the white spots made him nauseous. He was tired, so tired, and he knew that something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. He could feel it in the stifling burn in his lungs, in the silence of the room.

"Pet?"

He blinked suddenly, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Why was it dim? He felt silk sheets beneath him and struggled to sit up just a little. A strong hand pushed him back, pinning his weak body effortlessly to the bed. It was not the little room at the back of the palace. This was his Master's bed.

"Stay."

It was a command. Commands throughout the whole day and the tears fell as he remembered. He might have dozed off in his exhaustion, but he remembered now!

"My child..."

"Hush, my dearest, the child lives. It is a good thing that one of us remained awake to ensure that, now, is it not?"

The soft words were obviously a reprimand and he flushed and bit his lip. "I am sorry," he whispered, turning his head so he would not have to look his Master in the eyes when he was so obviously unworthy. He stared at his dark hair spread over the pillows, tangled and sticky with sweat. All of him felt that way. Dirtied and heavy. He needed to bathe. He was ashamed of this weakness, of this cloying, clinging sadness. All of him hurt. And he was so cold.

His Master picked him up in his arms and helped him crawl into his lap, drawing his face to his shoulder. "Cry, pet. It is all over now."

He felt the tears start. How had his Master known he wanted this? He felt the shift in his mind and that answered his question- complete control. His Master knew more than he sometimes did. And his child was safe.

"It was a boy, pet. A tiny little boy who will grow up to be just as you, who will make me proud, hmmm?"

He nodded slightly, gulping down a sob as the tears soaked into the green tunic. He deliberately loosened his fist on the soft cloth, not wanting to spoil it. But his Master held him closer still.

"I love you."

He shut his eyes and nestled closer.

"I love you."

His son... his son was alive. And he was loved. What more dared he ask for? "I worship you, my Master."

-----------------------------------------------------

Toby sighed and swung the wood at the pile of stones he had upset before. Arradine was going to sleep in the sun and he watched her, still angry and restless and longing to put his own head down and sleep with such peace and innocence. He swung at the stones again. And again. He pressed his fingers against the rough wood and he could feel his heart pounding in his back and the air rushing in and out of his lungs. He pricked his finger on a splinter and flung the wood away.

The build up didn't recede. It was getting worse, getting tighter under his ribs, burrowing to make room for more pressure.

A knot lodged itself into his throat and he opened his mouth to breathe. His legs tensed suddenly and the knot came lose with a harsh gasp as Toby felt an actual pain slice through his chest. He thought of heart attacks and clapped his hand to the stinging aftershock.

Arradine was awake and looking at him.

Toby wiped his brow and decided to keep this to himself. His heart racing, he had the unaccountable urge to grab his daughter up and hold her tight.