Author's Note: Sorry it took so long. There will be only another two chapters after this, I think. I hope to have them up as soon as possible.

Author's Note 2: 'Pen-dithen' is Tolkenien elvish, meaning 'little girl'.

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"Red?"

Jareth paused at the top of the stairs, that habitual eyebrow rising at the scene. Both of his daughters were gathered in the throne room, Ereditha sitting in his stone seat, Arradine playing with Anamika on the floor.

"I seem to be interrupting," he resumed, "Is this an invasion? Should I kneel in surrender?"

Arradine looked confused, but Ereditha laughed and got off the throne. "Yes, father," she giggled, "We fairies will take back what is ours by right."

"You may try," he said feelingly, stopping not two feet from her. He waited, the smile fading in that bitter way that he saw reflected on her face. They looked at each other in silence until he found the worry lurking in her eyes. He watched it grow. He watched as she lifted her chin to make up for her slipping confidence. And then he stepped forward and enfolded her in a warm hug.

Ereditha sighed and leaned against him. "We were worried," she said evasively, "You have been gone most days this week."

"Have you missed me, little one?"

"Of course. I always do."

Jareth held her a little tighter and then let her go with a kiss to the top of her stylish blond head. "Come, then. Sit down and talk to me. And how is my granddaughter?" He hefted the little girl up and groaned in mock exertion. "Anamika! How big are you growing? Stop immediately!"

She squealed as he began to spin- slow at first and then faster, finally ending on his lap as he sat down gracefully in his chair without missing a beat. "Do it again," she begged.

Arradine snorted and took her away. "No, pen-dithen," she chided, "You have to eat and if Grandfather keeps spinning you, you won't be able to eat anything. And Fiorle has your favourite."

"Yay!" Anamika took off, green eyes glowing as she bounded lithely up the stairs.

"You really shouldn't spin her like that," Arradine said half-heartedly, "She'll only feel sick."

"Let her be, Arradine. It won't make much difference if she eats a little less for one evening. She is healthy enough; she can stand it."

"But I don't think I can. If she wakes up tonight complaining of a tummy upset, I'll send her to you."

Jareth shrugged and crossed his legs under him, resting an elbow on his knee and his chin in one hand. "It would be nice," he said softly, "To have company at night."

Both girls stilled and shared a speaking look with each other. They had been looking for such an opening for a long time now, wanting their father to open up and talk. This business of running away and returning numbed was becoming scary.

"We could stay up with you," Ereditha suggested, "We can sit and talk. Like we used to do. Do you remember? We haven't done it for years."

"Your Dad needed his sleep by then," Jareth sighed, "I had to get him to bed."

"Yes, but… Dad's not- not here now. And if you need us, then we're here. Just for you. Anything you need, we can make some arrangements." Ereditha perched on one curved arm and stroked the long, uneven blond hair. "Just tell us what to do."

Jareth was looking at Arradine, taking objective note of when her expression sharpened to grief at the mention of Toby's death. It was hard on the woman, obviously. But he could do nothing about it. What was he to do? Giving her platitudes would not help; neither would coddling her. She had to work it for herself. "I don't need anything," he replied, sitting up straighter and resting his head back against the stone curve, "I know this isn't easy, but you just have to let me handle it in my own way."

"Yes, but, Father, your way is to shut it up inside yourself until it begins to choke you. This isn't something you just try to forget, you know." Arradine.

"Well, what would you have me do? Such a wound isn't going to heal. I am not going to find someone to fill the emptiness. I am not inclined to throw myself into work and denial."

"Yes, but you are wallowing," Arradine pointed out, "Wallowing is not good!"

He conjured up a glass of water and drank it. "You'll have to forgive me if my views on my behaviour differ from yours."

Ereditha saw the danger signals. She knew what happened when Arradine and Jareth drifted into using just 'that tone'. In fact, if she was truthful, she caught a flash of memory from the corner of her eye and turned slightly, expecting to catch that long-suffering look on her Dad's face as he sent a pleading glance her way. The entire family was drawn into the fray when Jareth and Arradine began to argue.

"I'm not going to argue with you, Father," Arradine remarked unexpectedly, "I have no wish to alienate you. I just worry for you. Dad was worried for you. He said not to let you mope. But you insist on moping and we can't do anything about it. We can't because you won't let us and so we have to feel guilty, but that'salright because you seem happier being self-destructive. I hope you understand the bitter end you seem to crave."

She stalked away, trembling and white as if she were more scared by the words than angered by the concept.

She was scared. Ereditha sighed and wished she had intervened in time. Her father looked devastated, and no wonder. Arradine had used the cruelest needles of guilt it was possible to use. Though, and to be fair to her, Ereditha didn't think Arradine was speaking from anger. It scared all of them that Jareth seemed to be drifting away into himself before their eyes. And it was true that Toby hadn't wanted any of this for his husband. He had laughed about it, of course, but his request to get Jareth to get on with his life had been made in all seriousness.

'You know how he is, Red. He'll feel guilty because he couldn't do anything to stop it. I've told him over and over that it's only because I don't want to keep fighting my mortality. I've lived longer than I should have and I want to go. It's not wrong of me, is it?'

"Not wrong," she murmured, pacing around the room, "Not wrong at all."

"What's not wrong?"

Jareth. She had forgotten Jareth was still in the room. Sitting there in crumpled clothing and tired resignation. "He told me that you would blame yourself. He's right, isn't he?"

Jareth looked away and didn't answer. But the way he was digging his nails again and again into his wrist spoke more eloquently than words.

"You know Arra wasn't trying to hurt you?" Ereditha was anxious on this point. "She was actually just pointing out… I mean, she was…"

"Being truthful? Is that what all of you think?"

"Dad asked us all to keep you going after his death," she said bluntly, "We really are trying."

"Would it make any difference to me, Red? Aidan has the job well in hand. He could handle it if I just slipped away. Arradine and you both have your own families now." He was wallowing. Looking at things in his most objective way, he knew he was wallowing in self-pity. But damn it all, he deserved a little time to wallow!

"We'd miss you," was all she said. But from the way she paled, Jareth didn't think she agreed with him.

He narrowed his eyes and thought for the umpteenth time that Ereditha was much too bright to have her life turn out the way it had. It took him out of himself, made his wits sharpen a little. "Red, may I ask you a question?"

"If you wish."

"Why have you not bonded with Armand?"

She looked awkward and annoyed and he supposed he shouldn't have brought up such an intense topic when neither of them was really in the mood to discuss it. Toby had often told him to shut up about this.

'It's none of our business,' the mortal had said, 'Keep out of it, okay? She'll do what she needs to.'

But Jareth was curious. And there was no fire-blond digging a sharp elbow into his ribs when he said the wrong thing.

"It's not been the right time," Ereditha excused.

"You are married to him. You rule at his side. You seem happy with him."

"Father, we've had this discussion before. I just need some time. There is a lot I have to do; things occupy me."

"There is nothing you can tell me about time, Ereditha. I rule a Kingdom too."

"Yes, I saw what you went through," Ereditha snapped. A second later she sighed and dropped the haughty tilt of her head she had unconsciously affected. "It's not the right time."

Jareth nodded off-hand. He didn't say any more. In fact, he changed the subject. He began to ask- casually- about certain people he had known in the Fairy Kingdom. He hadn't set foot in there ever again. Even when Ereditha had married, Jareth had categorically insisted that she either marry in the Goblin Kingdom or expect never to see him at her binding ceremony. Ereditha had fought it. Armand had uncomfortably taken Jareth's side in things.

Toby had had a few things to say to his youngest about it.

Ereditha had listened to no one's advice. She took things in her headstrong way and had the wedding ceremony at Armand's palace. Neither Toby nor Jareth had been in attendance.

The truth was, Jareth mused, she hadn't really understood why. Why should she? Ereditha had never been told about his seven years' enslavement. Aidan had only known because he'd seen a few horrific things. Arradine had never asked.

So Aidan had told both girls- bitterly and at great length- of the few things he remembered and the vague things he'd found out. Sometimes he wondered if Aidan had intended to deal the shaky marriage such a devastating blow. It wasn't like Aidan. But his son was… well, his son had a ruthless streak where his heart was concerned. Jareth wouldn't quite put it past him.

Ereditha had left her new husband and gone straight back home, refusing to even acknowledge that she was in any way in love with such 'a race of monsters'. The scandal had raged. Toby- and Jareth was always grateful for the mortal's sheer good sense- had simply arranged for Aidan to pay them an unannounced visit. Jareth stayed out of it, well aware that he had made his point without even doing anything.

Sitting in his throne room and conversing about people he had once held in respect, he knew would jog the girl's memory. She began to fidget and answer in short sentences, to play with her rings and tug on her curls. Jareth kept on talking, eventually just describing people whose names he couldn't remember, but whose faces- and certain other body parts- he could.

"Alright, enough," she pleaded at last.

Jareth raised an eyebrow in innocent enquiry.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm not doing a thing, little one. I thought we were having a pleasant conversation."

"Look, I just do not want to bond with Armand. Why is that so hard to understand? I am happy as I am. He sees no problem to it; why should you?"

"I have no problem with it," Jareth asserted, playing with a crystal in his careless way, "You live as you see fit."

"Then why are you questioning me?"

"I think you are not happy."

"Unhappy?" Ereditha stopped pacing and stared at him in astonishment. "What gave you such an idea? I have never been less happy in my life!"

"Ah-ah-ah." Jareth wagged an annoyingly reproving finger at her. "Watch what I say. I said you were not happy, not unhappy. Unhappiness refers to sadness. You are not sad. You just aren't happy."

She raised a hand to cover her eyes in exasperation. "And what would you have me do?" she demanded harshly, "Be a slave to him? Prostrate myself at his feet?"

"No."

"Good. Because I am not the sort to kneel," she snapped, lowering her hand in anger, "Not every relationship has to be the same sort of- of dominion that you had over Dad. Armand is not like that. I am not like that. I am sorry if you cannot understand it, but that is the way I want to be."

She flounced away and the Goblin King watched her go without a change of expression. He waited, listening in case she returned. But she didn't. Jareth wasn't really expecting her to. He sat up as if his bones ached and stretched. Then he got slowly to his feet and apparated away.

The bedchamber he appeared in was empty and cold. The curtains had not been drawn since the goblins had opened them to air the stench of death from the room. The silver and blue furnishings were still in place. The golden ring still lay on the nightstand and the clothes were still in the cupboard. Jareth knew that if he were to open that secret compartment above their bed, he would still find the collar. No chains any more; neither of them liked chains. But the collar was fine. It was only a symbol, as such.

Jareth sat down in the window and watched the moon rise. Not full. Nothing more than a sliver of light in the sky. The brief thought flitted into his mind that he had missed dinner and any evening's conversation with his remaining family. It felt important, but he was too tired.

So he rested his head back against the stone and shut his eyes. A playful breeze tugged at his shirt, ruffling the open neck and slipping cold fingers inside. He ignored it and let his thoughts drift away.

Fiorle found him asleep in the window, precariously balanced, when he checked on him late that night. The Prince had asked him; Fiorle was willing to do anything for any of the three children. Jareth was asleep, so tired he didn't stir when the older fae tried to rouse him enough to help him into bed. Fiorle resorted to picking him up and carrying him.

Jareth's only concession was to cling tight to this unexpected warmth, murmuring unintelligibly when Fiorle almost put him down on the bed. And then the fairy didn't have the heart to let him wake up in such a place and turned away from the bed. If not there, then where?

Fiorle bit his lip and looked from Jareth's exhausted visage to the door.

The couch. It would have to be the couch. So Fiorle took him outside and set him down peacefully on the broad couch. He banked cushions under the silver-blond head and got a blanket from a nearby cupboard. It would be a cold night and Jareth could do without getting ill. Fiorle had almost left when he remembered one more thing that had helped his young mortal friend in days gone by.

He paused, returned to the Goblin King's side and silently lit a candle. He put it just out of reach and left it there to burn the dark away in a room filled with shadows.