"We can't tell him," Arradine hissed agitatedly, "He'll come back and then he'll never leave."

"We do want him back," Aidan snapped, walking impatiently around his sister when she didn't get out of his way, "Honestly, Arra! Anyone would think you did not want Dad to stay with us."

The older girl drew herself up to her full height, eyes flashing with answering fire. "I happen to want my parents' happiness," she growled scornfully, "Which is precisely why I do not want him to return! Father has put him through enough without scaring him like this. He's probably drunk; you know how much wine he consumes."

This, unfortunately, was precisely the wrong thing to have said to Aidan. He himself agreed that his father was many things not precisely of the best sort. But a drunk?! He spun on his heel and grabbed his taller sister by the arm, dragging her with brute strength to the question-mark door in the stables. "Father's bedroom," he ordered roughly, shoving her in his haste.

The door took them without delay to the silver and blue suite- still luxurious, still enormous- but cold and filled with the winds that blew around the Castle without ceasing. The Labyrinth lay spread out below the open window, its glory and pride restored in ten short years to something more taxing and awe-inspiring than before. The Goblin City lay at the feet of the gothic castle, tiny figures continuing their simple existence in the way all goblins had done for centuries.

And on the bed was a still figure that Arradine never remembered seeing quite so still or unmoving.

"Bloody hell," she swore, reverting to the language her dad used in intense situation, "What happened to him?"

"If this is drunkenness, I have never seen someone this drunk," Aidan commented acidly, "He has been unconscious since last night! Fiorle helped me carry him to bed and we never said anything to Dad because we thought the same way. I returned this afternoon and he's still in the same state. He hasn't even changed position! I don't know what to do."

Arradine almost whacked him on the back of his golden-blond head. "Call Lorelei, half-wit! She is his healer!" She hastened to the bed and laid a hand on the Goblin King's brow, hoping there was no fever. Immortals never got sick, but there were rare times when strange illnesses struck. And Jareth had gone out to a village on the borders of the kingdom just a few weeks ago.

But there was no fever. Arradine couldn't even make out the existence of life, so far as temperature was concerned. Startled, she snatched her hand back and stared at it, feeling the nerves in her fingertips register extreme cold. "Oh heavens, no," she remarked, before bounding onto the bed and shaking him. "Wake up! Come on, wake up!"

"Arra, stop it! This is not going to help," Aidan shouted, yanking hard on herarm to stop her, "You'll break his…"

The sound of a sickening crack and Arradine blinked. Had Jareth's shoulder just moved beneath her hand in that terrible way? That crack couldn't possibly be breaking bone… could it? "I just broke his shoulder," she said softly.

Glory of glories, Jareth took the pain-filled opportunity to groan and shift.

"Arra, get off the bed!"

She complied and took a moment to breathe deeply, her nature asserting itself to take command of the situation. Not for nothing was she her Father's daughter and the heir- "Get Lorelei. I'll ask Fiorle to help me with Father in the meantime. Once you've sent Lorelei here…" she stopped for the smallest second "… go for Dad. I think he will want to know."

Aidan waited with her, both of them staring in bewildered shock at the wreck of someone who had always seemed indestructible yet now looked too slender and mortal. The drapes had been tied back, it was true, but the shadows still left his entire upper body in the shadows. The rest of him was covered. Arradine was vaguely aware that he was damp with moisture. Perhaps something that was the opposite of a fever?

Making her decision, the girl stripped the blankets away and then turned to nod to her brother. "Go," she urged, "I'll get Fiorle."

"Send Ereditha down to the cooks," Aidan agreed, "She loves the kitchens and it will keep her away from here."

He turned and hurried out before Arradine, making his way to the stables, already calculating in his mind which horse was the best. He fretted silently because his own favourite mount was in urgent need of a new shoe. The others were none of them used to hard paced journeys like this. They were never kept for that! And neither Jareth nor Toby had kept horses because they either assumed animal form or apparated to get to where they needed to go.

The powerful snort and sounds of hard hooves turned his head to the side corral. The stallion!

Aidan had always had an affinity with horses. Indeed, he was horse-mad and his was the vote that had filled the stable from a few useful mounts to the thoroughbreds now housed within it. He leaped lightly over the wooden fencing and approached cautiously, hoping his thundering heart wouldn't frighten his prey away. He held out his hand and stopped two feet away.

The stallion snorted again and drew back a step, champing slightly with his large, sharp teeth.

Aidan whispered soothing words in the goblin tongue before giving up. "I need your help," he pleaded, "My Father is ill. I must make a journey."

The stallion flicked his ear and skitted forward threateningly.

The boy jerked back and considered simply taking another horse. Wracking his brains, he gave it one more try, reverting to the goblin tongue to maybe make more sense. After all, his brain laughed hysterically, if it was a horse in the goblin kingdom, chances were it understood a few of the words. It worked.

Ten minutes later, he was up on its dark back being propelled through the air by the strength of four very powerful legs thatstretched with rhythmic ease. In a matter of minutes, the stallion had barrelled through the Goblin City to the little house that Hoggle and his bride had taken when first married. Lorelei was out. But Wellis brightly promised that his mother could be found in the old pub down the street where the landlord was suffering from indigestion.

Aidan grimaced but ran down the street, throwing himself through the door with an audible gasp and a flair that brought the solitary drinker to spill his ale.

"Bless my soul," the old goblin squawked, "And what be's you doing here, Your Highness? Ain't no drink for you till you is old enough, you knows."

"Never mind that, where's the healer?"

"The dwarf? Upstairs in Bammer's room," the goblin supplied. He thought for a moment as Aidan took the stairs. "Why?" he called after the slender back. But it was too late. The Prince had disappeared from sight and the drunk old goblin was left alone again.

Lorelei paled when she heard what had happened, but wisely said nothing. "Likely it ain't nothing bad," she comforted, "He don't keep no care of hisself, does he? Just tired, what with all the running around."

She'd expected him to call her on hisarrival back, asking for a quick check-up on his condition. He was deteriorating fast, and no mistake. But when nothing had been heard from him, she'd assumed… well, the wine and black magic hadn't seemed to work anymore but she had thought for one night it would patch him up. And now look! Well, he was a silly old goat and she'd always said so! And that Fiorle hadn't had the decency to call her before?

Fiorle was actually wishing for her at that very moment. None of his arguments had prevailed against getting Arradine out of the sick room and he'd eventually had to let her stay so as not to waste time. But he did put her to good use, motioning her to keep the Goblin King somewhat upright as he got his shirtoff of him.

"He is far too cold for the air," he explained cryptically, slashing theshirt coat open so that the broken shoulder wasn't jarred. Eventually by cutting it up the side all the way to the wrist, and continuing to the neck, he managed to get it off.

Arradine set her teeth against the shock as she saw her father in strong sunlight. The glamour had worn off as it always did with unconsciousness and he looked every day of the past ten years. She couldn't understand what was happening. Why was the half-goblin so cold? She had felt the skin on his chest helping Fiorle get the shirt off and that too was cold. Why was his skin tinted blue as if water ran under that transparent skin? Even his lips and eyelids were blue! There were bruises on his skin that looked as if he'd had far too many accidents over the past month or so. His neck was scratched as if someone had raked their nails over his flesh with the single-minded desire to draw blood.

Fiorle understood her confusion, but there was no time for it now. On principle he hated seeing an immortal die from fear. It had happened enough in the Underground to be a wide-spread fear that most people grew up learning to guard against. It occurred to him that Arradine was far too young to succeed to a Kingdom just yet and her legal guardian had to be contacted right away.

"We need to contact Toby," he said tersely.

"Aidan has gone for him," Arradine said instantly, "And I sent a message with the joclers." The joclers were serpent-like creatures that moved exceedingly fast through an underground tunnel-system that only they knew. They were often used to send messages from one end of the kingdom to the other. "He should be back in a day."

Fiorle nodded.

Lorelei arrived fairly soon after that and took charge of the situation. She sent Arradine straight out and ordered Fiorle to strip the half-goblin completely. "Too warm," she insisted, "Put a sheet on him. Something thin, mind; he won't tolerate nothing more."

The fairy did as was needed and then took pity on Arradine, letting her back in when Lorelei's back was turned. The Princess looked pale, but determined, her mouth set in grim lines as she took in the prone figure on the bed. It was a disturbing sight. The Goblin King was usually a nervy creature, unfailing alive as only someone like him could be. Even with bloodless skin and in a deep sleep, he had looked alert and conscious of everything around him. But now he looked dulled and… dead.

"Hold him still," Lorelei told them, "I's going to have to set his shoulder again and he won't like it."

Arradine looked disgusted and took the other side of him. "Shouldn't you give him something for the pain?" she asked.

Lorelei ignored the question and motioned to Fiorle to tighten his grip. "One… two… three!" She tugged his shoulder back into place with a series of sharp pulls.

She's been right. Jareth's eyes shot open as the pain penetrated through the thickest fogs of unconsciousness to tear him back into reality. He shrieked and tried to pull away, clearly disoriented.

Arradine could swear that he was babbling something in the Old Language, but she couldn't hear much over the sounds of Fiorle trying to calm her father down and Lorelei yelling at someone- anyone- to hold him still while she bound the arm in place. A few words however sounded as if they were addressed to someone called Archer, begging him to stop, to help, to do something to take the pain away. She gasped as his leg almost kicked out of her grasp and tried not to notice that the sheet had almost slipped down his hips.

Eventually the bone was set, and Fiorle managed to hold the smaller, thinner male in place for long enough to let Lorelei complete the bandaging. By then, Jareth was silent and frighteningly grey-faced, his eyes closed as he absorbed the pain slowly into him instead of fighting it.

Fiorle got off him and Arradine let go.

Jareth moved his right hand and hissed. "Another break," he groaned, "Set it, please." He used the other hand to pull the sheet securely around him. He felt as if the entire world was trying to sit on his chest and right then he knew at least one rib had been cracked. "Ribs."

Lorelei compressed her lips but set to work to patch him up. "Stay away," she advised, dissolving a brown powder in water and holding it out to him. But his hands were too weak and it took too much out of him to move them. So Fiorle took the glass and helped him to drink down the painkiller.

Arradine just watched from her position beyond his immediate range of vision, pale and scared.

"Wear gloves," Jareth rasped, looking at Fiorle, "Too cold." He couldn't even form complete sentences any more. The drug began to work and his world started to swim, tipping from one corner to the next.

The fairy grimaced and looked around for a pair of gloves. Jareth's gloves had been discarded on the table and he picked them up, slipping them on simply because there was no time to do otherwise. One look at Arradine had said that she would be no help. Jareth would still feel enough pain that he might struggle. And his body was clearly beginning to give out.

"How did this happen?" he whispered, looking to Lorelei.

The dwarf shook her head and picked up the Goblin King's hand. His eyes were closed and if the little line between his eyebrows hadn't deepened imperceptibly with anticipation she would have said he was asleep. "A shock," she whispered back, "No other way he gots like this. He weren't this bad when he left. But who knows? I ain't seen him for days!"

Fiorle nodded. He knew what the shock was. Toby had made the decision to leave and been very surprised when his friend had vehemently opposed the plan. The fire-blondhad finally told him that it didn't matter what he thought, he was leaving. And so Jareth had collapsed. After his life? Fiorle couldn't really blame him.

"Stop talking." Jareth was still ordering people around, even in this half-dead state. "My daughter."

Lorelei raised her eyebrow and looked to Arradine. "What abouts her?" she asked carefully.

Jareth opened his eyes and looked down to the still figure beside his feet. "I'm ill," he murmured laconically, "Not simple. Arradine… what's wrong?"

The girl stifled a frightened whimper and moved to the sunlight, sitting down by his side and touching his face. The cold never affected her nerves, but she winced at the corpse-like feel to skin that should have been so familiar and yet never had been. She was aware that Jareth was watching her, his mismatched eyes fixed on her face with a kind of desperate intensity that surpassed the drugged glaze.

"Nothing's wrong," she answered finally, "How do you feel?"

The ghost of a smirk. "Tired," he admitted, "So tired." Nothing for a while as he just looked at her. She was his first-born, after all, and he was so fiercely proud of her. Even now he somehow noted that she put aside the confusion and stayed in control of herself. Good girl, his mind said approvingly, back straight and chin up. Just as his heir should be.

Then the smirk slipped. She wasn't his heir any more. Toby was leaving. Jra-gurgh! Oh God, what would his children do? Ereditha was young and mortal; he could send her with Toby. Sarah would make sure she was fine. But Arradine! She was the heir and then… then nothing. And Aidan. Oh God, there was only one way around this and Aidan was it. He would have to… he didn't even want to think about it. Please, Gods of both worlds, if only this couldn't happen. If he could be strong.

He didn't even realize that he had begun to struggle until Arradine let out a shout and held him down. He couldn't breath and vaguely he was aware that he was trying to get out of bed. If he could find Toby, he'd lock him in a tower. Just for a few more months- just a little while until he died. He'd be forgiven surely, once the mortal was told why. His elf; his velvet goldmine… he loved him but for Aidan's sake he would chain him in the Castle.

"Stay down!"

The entire room seemed to be a blur of emotion and the amount of magicks running rampant in the Castle was phenomenal. The full-length mirror in the corner smashed and crumbled to glittered glass. What might have become of the rest of the room and themselves was left to speculation because Toby suddenly appeared out of nowhere, barely adjusting to the slight unsteadiness of transformation to stumble to the bed.

"Lie down," he growled.

The sunlight was screaming in his mind. Not just little rays, this time, but a full-blown star that blazed so bright it gave him a headache to try to concentrate on what it was telling him. All he knew was that Jareth had to be controlled, that his bond mate needed him and needed him immediately.

Hands gripped at him and pulled him down, the icy-cold a familiar feeling now on his face and his arms. His teeth were on edge because of the sudden rush of energy through the currents in the room and he bit back a short expletive to fumble above the bed for the little cavern with its hidden chains. He knew what Jareth wanted. The half-goblin whispered it to him over and over. And he knew what it was that was driving him crazy. He jammed his hand into the little niche and yanked out the silver chains, attaching them instantly to his own wrists and holding his hands out to Jareth to take.

"It's all right," he urged, "I'm here. You've chained me. Now lie down. For God's sake, lie down, now. Arradine, get out of here!"

This time the Princess fled, unable to stand any more.

Jareth began to calm down, still wild-eyed and rambling incoherently about something. But his speech was slurring and he kept stroking the chains, falling exhaustedly into a kind of half-asleep lethargy. With a little stroking and a few whispered promises made into one ear, he was asleep.

Toby reluctantly sat up next to him and shuddered down at the chains on his wrists. "I hate them," he panted, "God, I hate them."

Fiorle stood back and just looked from one to the other. "How?" he asked.

The mortal looked up, his hair in his face and still untidy from the frantic trip back to the Castle. In answer he touched his chest above his heart. "Felt something," he supplied, "Something was wrong this morning. Felt it get worse and I was on my way back when I ran into Aidan. He told me. And then I felt the explosion."

Lorelei wrinkled her brow. "Explosion?" she repeated, "what explosion?"

Toby pointed to the window. "The Labyrinth. Jareth was so upset he tore open the earth. What's going on? What happened? Is he sick?"

Lorelei looked pointedly to Fiorle. The fairy was the one who knew Toby best and it was best that he tell him. Besides, she didn't like to say anything because the Goblin King hadn't wanted his consort to be told. It felt like betrayal to say something without his permission.

Fiorle sighed and took a few moments putting the sheet back onto Jareth before sitting down and leaning forward intimately. "I'm sorry, Toby," he said sincerely, "But your bond mate is dying. He- he has a fear, something that is so deep and consuming that it is- quite literally- eating him alive. I cannot tell you what this fear is, but it is killing him. He has not long to live now."