And in my good fashion, this chapter contains a couple of time jumps. For example, it begins at the same time Jareth is called away from Sarah and continues to right before Sarah calls on Jareth at school…savvy? I thought I'd go ahead and explain that before it got confusing. And, I know we're all wondering about the Prophicae, and it's coming up, I promise. . So, without further ado, Chapter 17 has arrived!

Chapter 17

A Present

Addoyn, as the High Councilman, sat with his back rigid against the tall chair. He watched idly as the council discussed the day's issues, but he found himself strangely distracted. Something was tugging at him and preventing him from fully concentrating, and the smug gleam in Temnestra's eyes did not help to settle his apprehension. Impatiently he drummed his fingers across the tabletop. A few councilors noticed this odd display, but the High Councilman was the High Councilman, and they were not about to question him about a small, albeit annoying, habit.

It was hard to sit still. Addoyn felt he needed to be elsewhere, anywhere but there. He felt like a fool. During a battle at his doorstep he had been able to remain calmer than this, but his fingers tapped, his feet wanted to pace, and all his nerves were screaming to him to move. But move where? That was the question. What was pulling him so strongly it was able to interfere with the council?

Like a flood, the answer came to him. The only times he was ever this distracted was when Jareth was involved. He dared another glance at Temnestra. She was being too quiet for his liking, and she had such a cruel smile in her gaze. Their eyes met, his cold, and hers joyful, and Addoyn's stomach dropped. "What have you done?" the emotion in his voice betrayed the calm exterior of his face.

The council stopped discussion immediately and they all turned their heads to the head of the table where the High Councilman and the Councilwoman sat.

Temnestra pushed her hair from her face and smiled, "What do you mean, High Councilman; I haven't done anything."

The feet of the chair screeched against the polished wood floor as Addoyn pushed away from the table. "Follow me, now, Temnestra." He said through clinched teeth and he left the chambers in a swirl of magic. Temnestra, eyeing his exit, followed suit closely behind. The councilors were very confused. Only once before had the High Councilman ever left a session early in such a flurry of commotion, only once before. They had a suspicion that this cause and the original were the same, but all they were left looking at were the empty seats.

Arriving in his private study, Addoyn waited the split second for Temnestra to arrive before he began his inquisition. "Do not lie to me, what have you done?"

Shaking her head in slight amusement, she brought a hand to her chest in mock offense. "I am not lying to you Addoyn, for lying is rather beneath me," she ignored his disgusted look, "but I cannot help but to gloat."

He narrowed his eyes on the strange beauty's form, "Gloat?"

"Oh, yes," she purred, rubbing next to him, allowing her hand to caress his shoulders, "for my plan is nearly complete. Soon, I shall be powerful, and you shall be obsolete." She continued to roam his chest with her hands, smiling all the while. She trailed her fingers along his lips, and suddenly her hand was caught by his. He pulled it sensuously to his lips, never once breaking away from her stare, and when her fingers were close he placed a small kiss on each of her fingertips. It sent shivers down her spine, as did the smile that played across his lips.

"Oh, Temnestra," he said softly, "you do suffer from many delusions, but I think this is your grandest." It took a moment for his words to register for they were so honey coated it masked the true insult. She snatched her hand away and backed up. "You can't stop this, Addoyn, you can't interfere."

He smirked, "No, I would not interfere; that is quite different than not being able to." It was about time he said no to her, and he enjoyed the sensation and the sweet taste of the word upon his lips, not to mention her sputtering expression. But he really did not have time to enjoy the moment, for Jareth was in danger if Temnestra was so jovial. She was only ever happy when her son's life was hanging by a thread. With a sneer, he vanished from the room, seeking the Goblin King in the Castle beyond the Goblin City.

His first thought was of the cold. It was damn near freezing in the drafty room in which he arrived. With a wave of his hand the window disappeared; replaced with bricks. The damage was done though. The room was now dark and covered in a thick layer of frost. The flames from the fire were frozen in motion, the life and warmth gone from the dancing embers. With a wave, he corrected that as well and sent the still fire roaring to life. The light helped a little, as did the heat, but he had yet to discover what he was looking for. He was sure Jareth was in the room, nearly positive. It was just a matter of finding the boy.

A very small movement caught his eye, and he choked back a yell as he saw the king. Jareth was stumbling; attempting to stand, but failing miserably and he slid down the wall back to the floor. He was near that damned window opening, white as snow. In fact, Addoyn noticed with alarm, Jareth was covered with the ice. His pale skin was bleached of color; his opened eyes were unfocused; the pupils covering the splendid color of his irises. Terrified, Addoyn reached down to the king, arriving at his side in an instant. He touched Jareth's neck but pulled back as the frozen skin burned his hand. A growl escaped his mouth and he transported the king in the large bed resting against a far wall, noticing with amused detachment how Jareth struggled against the treatment.

The covers were pulled down allowing the still king's body access to their warmth, and Addoyn brought the fur blankets up to Jareth's chin. And though Jareth fought with the covers, once he was in the bed his eyes slowly closed, his chest heaving in unnatural breathing. Addoyn sighed towards the stubborn king and placed a hand on Jareth's cold forehead, biting down his lips as the contact singed his fingers. Addoyn smiled softly and sent small amounts of energy to the plainly exhausted king. It was rewarding when several minutes later the king's chest began to rise and fall in a steady rhythm and the color returned slowly to Jareth's skin. Addoyn's success was short lived; however, as Temnestra burst into the room, hair flowing behind her, dress whipped in a breeze, and dark eyes staring down at the sight in front of her.

"How dare you?" she spat pointing an accusing finger at him. "You promised me, Addoyn, you promised me!" Her eyes flared and her hands clinched into fists at her sides.

He stood from the bed, positioning himself between the mother and son and shook his head sadly. "It was a stupid thing to promise, and you know it." She scoffed. "It does not matter what you think anymore, Temnestra." He continued, gaining strength from her frightened eyes. "I have allowed you to do what you have wanted for far too long, don't you agree?" Again he was rewarded with a scoff and her unusual silence. He took a deep breath, "I am going to interfere now. I have made my choice. Even if Jareth should die, and he won't, not tonight," he added quickly as her eyes danced excitedly at the sound of her son's death, "you will not gain his powers. And you have no hope of over powering me, my dear," he said bitterly. He took a step forward and took another deep breath, "When he awakens, I am going to tell him what started this entire fiasco." At this, Temnestra threw herself at him, hands outstretched like claws, face distorted in anger. Though momentarily taken aback, he caught her wrists easily, only angering her more.

"You cannot, Addoyn! You CANNOT!" she screamed as she continued to fight his restrictive hold.

"And you," he said twisting her wrists harshly; causing her to cry out in pain and drop to the floor, "keep saying that, and I wonder why, for I not only CAN" he squeezed her wrists tightly and watched as her eyes glistened with tears, "but I WILL." He released her, pushing her down as he did. "If I were you I would leave now, for once he has learned the truth I doubt he will be as forgiving as I am."

Temnestra bit down on her lip hard. She was no match against Addoyn, especially in this emotion driven craze he was in, and as such she picked herself up from the ground favoring her wrists. She brushed her dress down, pushed back her hair and stood tall, meeting Addoyn's stare. "You cannot stop this, not now. The curse is too strong for him," she sneered at her son's body lying still in the bed, "and it will kill him eventually, you know that."

Addoyn shook his head vehemently. "My dear, you underestimate so much, it is quite laughable."

But he did not laugh, and neither did she. They just stared at each other. This argument was much different from their last, for Addoyn had decided a side, and Temnestra could feel the balance shift. It was a horrifying sensation. She suddenly felt very alone, but she clutched to the knowledge that soon, one day very soon, Jareth would be destroyed, and her destiny would be rewritten and she would be the ultimate power in the Underground, for after all, power was everything. She allowed a laugh from her lips, and Addoyn cringed. Any sanity that had clung to her had disappeared in that moment and he watched her leave the room laughing still.

He turned away from the sight and slowly walked back to the bed. Jareth was already looking better. His eyes had relaxed and closed and they moved slightly under his lids and the color had spread from his cheeks to his neck, but there had yet to be a sign of consciousness from the king, and this worried him. Well, it was probably best to give him some time. The residual magic Jareth must have used still lingered in the air, Addoyn could taste it, and for it to leave such a strong aftertaste it must have taken immense energy to cast. Looking around for a chair, but finding none, Addoyn silently chastised the king. Who doesn't keep a chair in their chambers? While shaking his head a leather chair appeared behind him, summoned from his own chambers, and he sat, arms folded in the green robes he had worn earlier for the council. As he sat and watched over the king, his mind began to wonder.

That was the second time Addoyn was distracted in chambers by Jareth. The first was the day Jareth was arrested for a charge of murder. In the middle of a discussion on a new bridge system Addoyn had begun to panic. He was not able to concentrate, and many times he had to ask the councilors to repeat themselves, but he heard no better the second time. After a few more minutes, the strange feeling in the back of his mind left him so frazzled he had no choice but to leave the chambers and follow the sensation.

He appeared in a vast, green courtyard fenced off from the general public. Jareth was being dragged by an armed guard of ten soldiers, led by Temnestra. At first he was confused, and then angered that she would go as far as to have her own son imprisoned and he had stepped forward to interfere, but Temnestra was fast and intercepted him, a happy smile playing across her mouth. "He was found with a dead child, a dead human child. He is to be put on trial as soon as possible." Jareth would not even look up to dispute the charge, and Addoyn's hands were tied. Had the youth at least attempted right then, he would have ordered the guards to release him, but as such, he had watched as they dragged him off, Jareth with his head low, his mother practically skipping next to the procession.

Going through that doomed trial was nearly unbearable. Through it all he kept reliving the message of the prophecy. It felt like Jareth was being punished for a damned piece of paper, but he went along with the farce, for he was sure it was farce now, but at the time they had had very good eyewitness. Though now looking back, he felt Temnestra may have had more to do with that. It all went back to the prophecy and he sighed.

He remembered the first time he had read the damned Prophicae. A messenger had brought it from the mystic in the woods. Temnestra was beside herself, always looking at the parchment, but never quite willing to touch it. He smiled at that thought. Temnestra was different then, that was when she had always held Jareth, cradled him, sang to him, rocked him, but more than anything she had loved him. And then the Prophicae changed everything.

He had had to read it twice to understand that full text.

The Prophicae

The Sun borne

From mother's love is estranged

But a vast empire gained

And the parent toppled

To the ground

Yet should the dark fall

By the sun's own hand

The kingdom transferred

By love to the mother

It had taken him years to decipher the meaning, and he kept his analyzation private, but it was around that time Temnestra changed. Whenever she looked upon her son all Addoyn saw was hate, distrust, apathy, but still the boy followed like a lamb to the cutting board. It saddened him, and he constantly attempted to make Temnestra treat him better, but she always replied, "He is my son, I can do what I wish," and this was true, and Addoyn never really seemed to question the assertion.

A small moan from the king brought Addoyn away from his reverie. Well, it was about time he woke the boy up, for if Temnestra was right, they were running out of time. He sat on the bed and leaned forward, "Wake up, boy." There was no response. "Wake up, Jareth," he repeated with a small shake. "Wake, up…"

He knew he was dreaming again, for the moment he opened his tired eyes the room around him was different. Oh, it had been his room once, long ago, but he had not slept in the bed for years. His other self was sleeping soundly, blonde wisps covering his face. A voice echoed through the room, "Wake up, boy." But he ignored it; he always ignored the first call. 'Wake up, Jareth," this time, the man's voice came from next to the bed and Jareth blinked his eyes open expecting to see the man that went with the voice, but there was nothing there. That was nothing new either. He sighed and rolled over, his hand landing on something cool next to his pillow. Curiously he sat in his bed and gazed down to what his hand had touched. His eyes grew wide and he forced himself to keep breathing. There, in the grasp of his hand, was that wonderful pendant. He brought it up to his eyes and inspected the lovely curves, the beautiful symbol, and ran the chain through his hand. Upon looking down at the pillow he saw a small white paper. He frowned and picked it up and then smiled broadly, for there, in a flowing script were the words "A present." Smiling he placed the necklace over his head, vowing never to remove such a valuable gift.

Jareth pulled himself slowly from the dream. He remembered that day as bittersweet; for that was the day he was forced to appear in front of the council. He was barely twelve, and had hated the fact that he would someday have to sit on that council. That day was the day he was being presented to the councilors and was to be given lessons starting the day after. He had been born into the position, his mother was Councilwoman, and he would follow, for the seat was hereditary. That bothered him, something was not right. He suddenly felt very cold, very detached, and someone was calling to him to wake up again, but that wasn't right. Wasn't he already awake?

The room around him distorted and became a warped blur. No, he was not awake, this was just another dream. He turned from the swirling room. Who was calling to him?

He followed the voice from the blackness and traced it back to the light. It stung his eyes, and he shut them tight. His senses were on fire. Lightning laced down his limbs, his muscles were tight, and the blood pounding against his ears was nearly deafening, but slowly a voice reached his hearing. "Wake up." Jareth frowned, it was that man again, that shadowing figure. He forced his eyes open, expecting to see nothing but space, and was quite shocked when a pair of blue eyes lined with concern met his own.

"Addoyn?" he began, trying to sit up, for he found he was lying in his bed. The movement was painful though, and he was forced to remain still.

"I would not try to move quite yet, Jareth." Addoyn said quietly, eyes burning. Jareth watched him a moment, wondering what could have transpired to have Addoyn in his bedroom tending to him. "What were you thinking?" Addoyn asked suddenly, and Jareth's head spun trying to comprehend the question.

"What do you mean?" he asked gruffly.

"I mean," Addoyn sighed, "what were you thinking nearly killing yourself. How much magic did you use Jareth?"

Addoyn's words were hard to follow, for his head was still fuzzy. He backtracked him mind in attempt to fit the puzzle together. What had he been doing? He had been…he had been…the memory hit him and he groaned, "Do not lecture me, old man, on energy spent, for it was a good cause."

"Oh really?" Addoyn asked, leaning back slightly.

Jareth frowned, "Yes, really. That storm nearly killed my subjects." Addoyn looked at him silently, urging him to continue. With a stiff movement, Jareth brought a hand to his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I was performing a damned translocation spell," he finally murmured.

Addoyn's eye brows shot up. Translocating one's self was easy enough, but moving more than one person; that required an immense amount of magic and concentration. "How many?" His question was met by a blank look and Addoyn sighed, "How many subject did you bring here that way?"

Jareth's eyes darted away from the man in front of him. He had known it was a foolish thing to do, he had known it was a great risk, but it was a risk he had been willing to take. "I brought them all, all I could find I brought here." Because his eyes were averted he missed the blatant look of shock expressed on the High Councilman's face.

"All of them, Jareth?" Addoyn asked quietly. Jareth was growing annoyed. His head ached, his body ached, and he was being questioned in his own bedroom and in his own kingdom which annoyed him more; however, it was Addoyn, and years of being taught to obey the High Councilman was hard to undo, so he nodded and replied, "Yes, all of them," a little more gruffly than he had meant.

Addoyn bit back a retort. No wonder Jareth was exhausted and barely able to move. Addoyn had never heard of such a massive undertaking like this. And yet, Jareth would still not meet his gaze, and Addoyn frowned, "What else?"

With a grimace Jareth looked towards the man. "Before or after?" The slight anger in Addoyn's expression startled him, for Jareth could not comprehend, especially with his mind in such a state, why Addoyn would be upset with him. "I raised a barrier over the castle after I brought my subjects here."

Addoyn shook his head, "And before?"

Jareth's head dipped, "Before?" He scoffed; it seemed so far away now, "Before I placed a protection ward over Sarah, only after fighting that damned curse." Jareth really did not wish to say anymore, and with a pointed stare to the older man, he closed his eyes and lowered his head.

Something akin to pride swelled inside him as Addoyn stared, a little dumbstruck at the weak king. And a little furious, though he hid it well. Did Jareth not realize he could die by using that much magic? Any other person would have. Addoyn was doubtful that even he would have been able to accomplish as much, and suddenly the sheer amount of power Jareth had dawned on him and he idly wondered if even Jareth realized what he accomplished. With a small chuckle he sat back in his chair and watched as Jareth slid down into the soft pillows and blankets of the massive bed. They stayed like that, not really noticing the time, but Addoyn must have dozed off, for suddenly Jareth sat straight in his bed, his eyes focusing into the distance.

"What is it?" Addoyn asked curiously, but his only response was Jareth struggling to get out from underneath the covers. Addoyn frowned, "What are you doing, Jareth? You can't get up yet." He was rewarded with a scowl, and Jareth continued to try to get out of the bed, his hands shaking and his body quivering with each additional movement. Addoyn stood and pushed lightly on the king's shoulder. It wasn't a hard push, but Jareth collapsed under the pressure, falling softly back onto the pillows. He glared at Addoyn who laughed softly. "I told you, you can't get up. You can't even withstand an "old man's" touch." Addoyn saw the frustration in Jareth's eyes turn to despair and Addoyn repeated his inquiry, "What in the Underground has got you so upset?"

"She's calling to me." Jareth's voice was so soft, a whisper lost in the room, and Addoyn was not quite sure if he had heard right.

"She's calling to you?" Jareth's head nodded and Addoyn sighed, "Well, you can't possibly go to her, not like this." Jareth frowned at him and Addoyn laughed. "Look at yourself; you would not make the transfer, and you would not be able to return the both of you if you should." There was such sadness in his eyes and Addoyn scoffed slightly, "She's just a girl, Jareth…" he was going to continue, but something in the king's eyes, a dangerous glint, made him pause and reassess his remark, "Alright, an unusual girl, but still mortal nonetheless."

Jareth muttered something under his breath and Addoyn strained his hearing, "What was that boy?" Jareth rolled his eyes and faced Addoyn, "I said, 'I don't want her to think I don't care.'"

"Oh, is that all." A devilish smile spread across his face and Jareth shuddered. "I will go then, for you, Jareth. I wish to meet this "Sarah" anyway." Jareth shook his head, "I'm not sure if that's a good idea, I mean, she has never met you, you may frighten her."

"Bah," Addoyn scoffed, "I will not scare her away." He smiled as the king remained silent, contemplating. "You might as well say "Yes" Jareth, for I'm liable to go either way." Jareth nodded. He knew it was futile to argue with the man, for Addoyn was more stubborn than he, "Fine, but do try to be gentle with her." Addoyn laughed at Jareth's phrasing and began to leave, but was called back when Jareth added, "and try not to be insulted by her insubordination; she's very stubborn."

"Oh, Jareth," Addoyn replied good-naturedly, "I'm sure I can handle her. After all, I was never insulted by your insubordination." And with that he vanished from the room, leaving a very worried Jareth staring at the ceiling, grimacing as he heard the commotion from below. He could only imagine the mess those goblins were making. It was a rather distressing thought, but his eyelids were becoming heavy again, and this time, in the quietude of his own room, he really did not care to fight the exhaustion.

He was asleep within a few minutes and did not notice the door to his chambers slowly creak open. Nor did he notice a furry little brown bundle bounce into the room, little dark eyes searching the space. In a flash of movement the small little creature scurried from the doorway and clawed its way up the bed. It stared a moment at the sleeping king, and with a little cackle settled down within a hands reach of the king's arms. Curling in a little ball, it joined its master in slumber, and once asleep the little goblin failed to notice another creature flit into the room and position itself in a small spot of vigil atop the headrest before falling asleep as well. Very quickly the room filled, silently, which is very uncharacteristic of goblins. Each wished to be closer to the king; their savior, their life. And each wanted to know he was alright, so together, as many as could possibly fit into the large room, they slept and sat and kept an eye on their sleeping monarch. And those that could not fit into the room stayed quietly in the hall.

A/N: so…ok? Makey sensey? I hope it makes sense, cuz I worked long and hard on this chapter!