Author's Note: So far into the story and I guess this is rather redundant, but- this chapter- theWARNINGOF ADULT SITUATIONS IS REPEATED. There will be incest in this chapter. If it disgusts you, do not read. If you cannot stomach it, do not read. I do not condone it; I do not condemn it. People involved in it are driven by forces I cannot understandand I humbly admit that.

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For a week, the entire Castle was told that the Goblin King had had a slight accident that required him to stay in bed for a while. Toby was astonished at the little pilgrimage of grim-faced goblins that came to the Castle with little gifts of produce or flowers. From Jareth's window he could look straight down on them and the line stretched from inside the entranceway to the City.

"It is tradition," Jareth said quietly, "There is no finer feeling on their part." He sounded almost bitter.

Toby looked around from the window and rubbed absently on his wrists. He didn't have to wear the chains for the most part if he was in Jareth's room, but when the Goblin King went to sleep, Toby put them on to keep his mind comfortable. Dying! It was a horrible thought; one that he slithered away from rather than accepted.

"I'm sure they appreciate all you do for them," the mortal commented comfortingly.

Jareth laughed for a minute and then shook his head. "My people could care less whether I get well or die. I have an heir who is young enough to become a good Goblin Queen, dedicated to her people and to her Kingdom. That's all they ever required of me. And why not? I have no patience with them!"

Toby stayed silent for a while, wondering what fear could possibly be so bad that Jareth would let himself die slowly for ten years before confessing it. He didn't think he should talk about, though. Perhaps a change of subject to something more cheerful? "Aidan's birthday is come up."

Jareth felt his breath hitch. "You're not leaving, are you?" he asked immediately, rigid with fear.

Blue eyes narrowed at him and the half-goblin cringed back just a little, feeling his eyes look down and away in shame for having betrayed himself so very thoroughly.

Toby had- in all honesty- meant to avert this subject. In his experience Jareth had spoken when he wanted to speak. But Toby was also aware that most of the major revelations in their lives happened by accident. His rape had prompted a closer relationship, his attempted suicide had prompted the engagement, and marriage had given them three wonderful children. Of course, the marriage had also trapped him in a fantasy land with an insanely possessive husband and no life whatsoever, but that was another matter.

The mortal left the window and advanced purposefully on the bed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt with a determined hand. Jareth read the intent in those blue eyes and hastily scrambled out the other side. He was clothed enough to risk leaving the room and he really didn't want to talk. He couldn't! Even the thought made him hyperventilate, made him want to fall to his knees and beg for mercy.

Toby skirted the bed and got to the door before him. Back against the beautifully planed wood and he was set. "You're dying, Jareth," he said coolly, "They told me it was a fear. You mentioned this once before, when we met in our dreams, didn't you? You said it was a terrible thing when goblins died of fear because they are a strong people."

"They are," Jareth agreed useless. His shoulder had reacted violently to the sudden movement and his heart was hammering so loudly he was surprised it didn't break through his already-damaged ribs.

"Lorelei says this has gone on for ten years and now you won't lasta year more."

Jareth didn't want to die. But he didn't like the pain either and he preferred to die rather than let his worst nightmare come to pass. "I won't," he agreed firmly, "You need only wait a year. If it is longer, I shall kill myself."

"I don't want you to kill yourself."

"I would prefer to die rather than…"

"Rather than what? Never mind; it doesn't matter. I won't let you kill yourself." Toby had never been more certain of himself than on this subject. "You were not meant for death, and I will not let you die like this."

Jareth stayed silent, swaying lightly on his feet. Neither his colour nor his fragility had improved and he shouldn't have been on his feet at all. Indeed, he shouldn't have left his bed. A simple fall could break his neck at a time like this! His bones and tendons were just too weak to take any more pressure.

"Lorelei says this can still be cured… if you tell me what it is. Aidan scares you. The mention of your father scares you. And one more- your first consort? Were you really married before?"

If fear had been a creeping disease before, Jareth now knew it was more like the encroaching sea at high tide. "You do not need to know," he insisted, trying to make his way away, but not succeeding. His right hand throbbed horribly and swift movement was difficult when his ribs hurt too.

"I do," Toby insisted, blocking the path at every turn and twist, "Tell me."

"No!"

"Jareth, you'll hurt yourself."

"I have lived through worse," the Goblin King snarled, "Let me pass."

"No!"

"What is it you want from me?"

"The truth!"

"Then yes!" The word stopped them both in their tracks. Toby because it was the answer he had sought, and Jareth because he simply did not believe he had actually betrayed himself. The mismatched eyes were wide in horrified betrayal. "I was married to someone else. Will that suffice?"

"No! Tell me who it is. I'm not angry; I just want to know. It's eating you up inside, Jareth, and I can't bear that. Please!"

The Goblin King shuddered visibly and crumpled. Toby caught him just moments before he hit the ground. He sat down on the floor, too small to hold his husband up even though Jareth was so thin through his illness as to weigh almost nothing. The shudders continued, wracking through the tortured body for long moments in time.

Toby resorted to cradling him close, trying to share body warmth. He whispered soothing words to calm the fear he could almost touch. "Just tell me," he pleaded, "My love, you must tell me."

"My love…" Jareth echoed, voice cracking on the words as his throat seized up with the cold, "Shouldn't call me that…"

"I will call you what I damned well like," Toby snapped, "Now just tell me."

"Can't…"

"Can! Before I force it out of you."

Jareth shook his head as if denying the words, the iciness abating somewhat with his husband's efforts to warm him. Touch… he had lived without warm touch for so many years. His children had been all that had kept him alive for the ten years he had spent alone. And it had taken too great a toll on his mind and body.

"My…" the word stuck in his throat, making his retch helplessly on the floor even though he had eaten nothing in the past two days to be sick with.

"Your what?" Toby asked urgently. It was so close. Jareth was so close. Lorelei had promised him that Jareth would have a chance to heal if he admitted this. "Your what?"

Time stopped. "My father."

Toby didn't even realize he was holding his breath until Jareth looked up, mismatched eyes tortured in the extreme by the confession. Things were falling into place, fitting like a jigsaw that had suddenly become clear. The fear Jareth had felt at being a father, the promise he'd extracted from Toby to protect their children at all costs, the way that he studiously avoided Aidan with that desperation in his eyes- Jareth was suffering the trauma of abuse?

"Oh God." When Toby spoke, he didn't even realize until the words were out of his mouth. "Oh God, that's horrible."

The eyes dropped to the floor and Jareth cringed away like a dog expecting to be kicked any second.

"Love! Jareth, no, I never meant it that way. Come here." He pulled the Goblin King back to him, wrapping his arms tight around him in spite of the painful injuries and beginning to rock soothingly. "It's not your fault. That bastard; God, that bastard deserves to die."

"He's already dead," Jareth choked out, the shivering back with full force. His fingers felt like ice and the air he breathed was so warm it burned in his lungs. It hurt to breath and he was so tired, so very tired. "I had to watch him die. Why did he die? He said it was his time, but why? We had so much time left."

Toby frowned. Those words didn't sound quite right. They almost sounded as if…

"I loved him so much. Why did he die?"

Oh God! Toby clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming at that sad little voice. Archer had hinted. He had stood there with that infernal smirk on his face and hinted:

'Do you remember the nights when you held out your arms to him and begged him to love you… soiled and tainted; you are so deliciously twisted, my dear… two hundred years did you spend… the entire Underground turned away… your own mother refused to acknowledge you… "

Archer had stood there and played on those childhood traumas, calling it beautiful to see Jareth like that. His father! He barely noticed when his husband slipped off into an unconscious fit, murmuring silently and whimpering as the pain continued to crash through his system. How long he sat there cradling the inert form was anyone's guess. Lorelei and Fiorle found them like that at dusk, Toby staring quietly into space and Jareth unconscious in his arms.

The news spread slowly through the Kingdom that the Goblin King was ill, that he was in fact dying of fear. No matter how dark the days had seemed, or for how long the murmurs of dissent had been whispered throughout the land, no one deserved to die such an agonizing death. But there was hope, some people said. Some spoke of the King's mortal bond mate, brought out of his prison finally to help the King overcome the illness. And others spoke of how the King had been drained of strength fighting such a losing battle for ten long years.

But in spite of Jareth's inability to wake himself from the haze he had fallen into, no one dared to hazard a guess as to what exact suffering it was that had thrown the half-fae headlong into this.