Jareth stared at the child before him, incredulous. The kid was maybe eight years old, more likely seven, with a skinny frame. Her olive skin was marred only by scabs on her elbows and knees, earned from climbing one too many trees. She was wearing obvious Abovegrounder clothes: jean shorts, sneakers, and a printed t-shirt. She'd just made a wish to the goblins, and Jareth was trying to find a loophole out of it.

"I'll just give him back," he said, holding the creature out in his hands. The little girl glared at the Goblin King and shook her head. Jareth felt beads of sweat pop out on his forehead. "Look, I do not want to have to be with this thing for any longer," he said, not in the mood to sugarcoat things. His left eye was already twitching, and he knew it wouldn't end for hours, days if he didn't get rid of this girl. "I'll give you the crystal," he pleaded, thrusting the creature in his hands further away from him. It squealed with some emotion and made frantic motions with its ears.

"I want the crystal," the girl said, crossing her arms over her chest. "But I don't want him back."

Jareth didn't like where this was heading. "But you have to want him back!"

"If I wanted him, why would I have wished him away?" the girl asked, raising her eyebrows.

This was so degrading. Jareth kneeled and tried to press the creature into the girl's hands, but she took a step backwards. "Little girl," he said, gritting his teeth. What was her name again? Ah, well, it didn't matter. "I am not keeping this thing. I will throw it in the Bog of Stench if you don't take it back -- and I assume you don't want that to happen?" he said in a sweet tone, raising his eyebrows. "You do know what the Bog of Stench is, don't you?" he asked, glancing again at the thing in his hands.

"Yes," the little girl said. "And that's where that thing belongs. Now give me my present!"

Biting down on his tongue, Jareth snapped up a crystal and handed it to the girl. She smiled, turned the thing over in her hands, and looked around her tiny room. Jareth stood up again, his hair brushing a bouquet of balloons. Sighing, he looked at the little thing in his hands, and suspected that even at the bottom of the Bog of Eternal Stench, the Furby would not stop making those horrible noises.


Jareth strode through the castle, still wiping Furby dust off on his vest. He shuddered occasionally, convinced that the mechanical toy was going to be in his nightmares later. "Maam?" he called, looking around. "Maam where the hell are you?" He scowled, and stomped up a long staircase towards his throne room.

The past two days had not been normal, exactly. A year ago Jareth's friend, Seth, had been sentenced to Museship after he was brought to trial for grand theft. Two days ago Seth had been wished away to the Labyrinth by Karleigh, the human girl he was Muse to. While Karleigh was trying to win Seth back, Seth's ex-girlfriend, Lady Rachelle, had been trying to break them up -- and nearly succeeded, until someone or something wiped her brain and left her with the mental state of a six-year-old.

Now Seth and Karleigh were off on a vacation, and Jareth was alone. "Maam!" he howled, kicking the door to his throne room open. The usual gaggle of goblins filled the room, but the one he was looking for -- of course -- wasn't there. "Where is Maam?" Jareth asked, lifting a goblin up by its collar.

"I'm right here," a squat goblin in a dress answered. "And you have a guest." She pointed up.

For the first time Jareth noticed a creature rising above the goblins in the room. The man was wearing a simple white peasant shirt, brown slacks, and leather boots. His orange hair was tied back into a ponytail. Jareth's eyes narrowed and he stared at the man for a minute, trying to remember where he'd seen him before. The silence between the two Fae made the goblins uncomfortable and most of them quietly snuck out of the room. The others, drunk or stupid, stayed to watch the fun.

Finally Jareth remembered. "Duke Walke," he said. He inclined his head respectfully and cleared his throat. The orange-haired Fae didn't so much as blink. Jareth shifted his weight a little. I don't have time for this, the Goblin King thought to himself. "To what do I owe this pleasure? I haven't seen you in years."

"Do you really remember me?" the Duke asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Of course I do…"


There was a commotion on the playground. The teachers turned a blind eye while they sat on the merry-go-round, gossiping. They paid no attention to the group of Fae teenagers scrunched into a circle, chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Kids would be kids, after all. They would have to grow up some time.

Gideon Walke stood in the center of the circle. His arms were being held behind his back while Amadeo, an eighth-grader, punched him in the stomach. He closed his eyes and winced as the older boy's fists railed into his small frame. Oh ye Gods I'm going to die, he thought. "You think you're so high and mighty!" Amadeo screamed, aiming his fists at Gideon's chin. The sixth-grader groaned in pain and slumped over. Amadeo grabbed Gideon's long orange hair and forced his head up. "You think you're better than the rest of us just because you make good grades. But we all know… you're just sucking up to the teachers. We all know you're no brain. You're just a pretty-boy."

Gideon sucked in a breath through his cracked and bleeding lips. Oh Gods no He is coming out no please don't let Him come out He always makes trouble please keep Him locked away like he should be!

Amadeo pulled a silver lighter out of his pocket. "You won't be so pretty when your lovely hair is all gone," he hissed, clicking his thumb along the lighter. First try brought flame. The teens went into an uproar, screeching obscenities in their respective foreign languages. Eris Preparatory School for Boys' uniforms made the crowd blur into long, white streaks for Gideon. His ankle-length robe was scratching his legs, and his vest was making him uncomfortably hot. The laundry staff would have a tough time getting the blood out of all that white cloth. Amadeo started laughing, and spit in Gideon's face. Instantly, Gideon's eyes flickered, suddenly shed a few tears and sharpened. Amadeo didn't take any notice.

"So you think I'm pretty?" Gideon asked, his voice low.

The boy's tone made Amadeo stop laughing. Fight! Fight! Fight! ran in the background, louder and more frenzied now that the action had stopped. The lighter went out, and Amadeo's hand hung limp at his side. Gideon lifted his head and smiled at Amadeo, teeth bloody from the cuts on his lips. "You like boys with orange hair, Amadeo?" He asked softly. "Reminds you of yourself, I bet." Amadeo looked like Gideon, they both had long orange hair, but their eyes were different. Amadeo had one brown eye and one green, Gideon had one blue eye and one violet. But Gideon's skin, under the blood, was a pale white, where Amadeo's was deeply tanned.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Amadeo asked, scowling. "You're different."

Gideon started cackling and wouldn't stop.

"Get on with it!" someone in the crowd yelled. "I'm getting I'm getting," Amadeo yelled back.

He grabbed a fistful of Gideon's hair and twisted it around his long, thin fingers. "You have a pianist's hands," Gideon remarked, still smiling. Amadeo kicked him in the shin, procuring a groan. He chuckled and tried to ignore the silky texture of Gideon's hair. Frustrated, Amadeo hit the lighter, with no success. The strokes of his thumb furiously sped up, and he stared at the silver metal, waiting for flame to come. Gideon smirked. "Why don't you use some magic, Eight Year?" He asked.

"Shut up," Amadeo muttered.

"Bet you can't," Gideon said.

The lighter finally produced flame. Gideon's eyes darted back and forth, his rushing heartbeat inaudible over the screaming crowd. Some fucking peers these are, He thought. He jerked back to the moment when heat swam over his cheek. Amadeo was holding the lighter just next to his hair. All right, it stops now, Gideon decided.

Flame touched His hair. He jerked his knees up and used the guys holding his arms as leverage to swing his legs higher. With surprising strength His feet shot out and rammed Amadeo in the chest, causing the older boy to drop the lighter. The flame went out in the dust on the ground. Gideon's feet slowly dropped back to earth, and he kept the lighter under his shoe without anyone really noticing. His shoulders ached from the motion, but seeing the shocked look on Amadeo's face was well worth it, even when the boy's lackeys pulled his arms tighter behind his back.

"You…" Amadeo hissed, hands pressed to his chest. He started punching again, aiming for Gideon's face this time.

Behind him, the crowd parted. A swing of his fist split Gideon's cheek wide open, and Amadeo still wasn't done.

A hand spun him around and repaid the favor. His knees gave out and he fell to the ground, cupping his hand over his throbbing jaw. "What the hell…" he muttered, looking up at the two sixth graders standing in front of him.

They hadn't had their teenage growth spurt yet, and pushed maybe a couple inches over five feet. Both of their figures were slim, and they both wore the white robes of the school, untied at the waist, revealing white shirts, vests, and pants. The boy who'd hit Amadeo shook his hand, swinging off drops of blood. "Ew," he muttered. "I hate blood… it's so… messy," he scowled, refusing to soil his uniform by wiping his hand on the pristine cloth. His platinum blonde hair was shoulder-length, and he'd tied it back in a ponytail, but his long bangs still hung over his eyes: one a crystal blue, the other a warm hazel. His skin wasn't tanned but wasn't as pale as Gideon's.

His friend rolled his eyes. "You're really going to have to get over that," he said, bending down to pick Amadeo up by his collar. "Hi," he said, smiling. "Excuse Jareth's entrance. He gets excited sometimes." The midday sunlight glinted off his short black hair, and his eyes, one blue and one green, sparkled. "I've seen you around. You're Amadeo, right?" he asked, tilting his head back as he lifted the older boy higher. "The teachers always talk about you during lunch. You think you're some hotshot, and you terrorize the younger grades."

Jareth leaned on the black-haired boy's shoulder. "Tell him what we found out, Seth," he said. He smiled, revealing bright teeth, and pointed canines.

Seth chuckled. His fingers curled tighter around Amadeo's collar. "We know your little secret, Amadeo Dre," he said, glancing around him. The crowd had finally stopped chanting and was standing in silence, nudging each other and sharing quick looks. Seth looked back at Amadeo. "Hasn't anyone ever wondered how a Fae could get such a deep tan so easily?" he asked, voice raised loud enough for everyone to hear. "It takes my older sister potions to get a tan," Seth said, locking eyes with Amadeo. "And somehow I just can't picture you taking potions for something like that, Amadeo," he said. He was silent for a minute before speaking again. "Is it your mother or father who's the werewolf?" he asked.

That was all it took. The crowd jumped back about thirty feet. Seth dropped Amadeo and walked around his sniveling form. Jareth followed suit and together they hauled the unconscious Gideon to the infirmary.


"That was years and years ago…" Gideon murmured, sighing. And I still don't have all my sides under control...

Jareth tapped the arm of his throne and glanced up at his clock. He had important things to be doing. Letters had to be written, meetings attended, witnesses silenced; he didn't have time to deal with an old classmate. "Why are you here?" he asked Gideon.

Gideon opened his eyes. "To kill you," he said simply.


Author's Note: Ooh, I exist. It's only been a little over a month since I promised this. For any who haven't read Innocent Musings, I hope the summary made sense. And for those of you who have, welcome back, and thanks greatly for being patient! Sorry the beginning is blah, it'll get better. I hate beginnings. And endings.