"Father?"
Jareth started and turned his head to catch a glimpse of the worried face behind him. "Yes?"
Aidan sighed and joined his father at the balcony railing. "It is past midnight," he murmured, "Have you tried to sleep?"
"No."
"You will eventually collapse, you know that. You haven't slept for days on end. Not since the…"
"Since the funeral. Sleep is rather elusive just now."
The prince sneaked another look at the averted profile. It still shocked him. His parents had been almost fatally in love, he knew that. People spoke of it- joked about it, sighed about it. It had been so for years. But for all that, he had never expected to see the proud half-goblin in this state. "We miss him too, Father."
A humourless smile; the only kind used lately. Not since Toby had started to weaken and get sick.
Aidan wasn't feeling particularly encouraged. They had had this conversation before. Lorelei usually spiked the food so that small doses of relaxing elixirs slipped at frequent intervals down the Goblin King's throat, and Arradine's. They had tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't listen. He heard them- of that they were sure- but he ignored everything for the most part, retreating further and further into his own mind as the hours passed. Arradine was scared. Ereditha was furious.
"Your daughters would have a lot to say if they knew," Aidan attempted, trying to get a response.
"I know. They already have. A week ago."
Monosyllables. Aidan squeezed his eyes shut briefly and tried not to let his worries get the better of him. Armand had warned him to tread carefully, to remain calm. "You will only drive him away with recriminations," the Fae King had said. Aidan trusted the fairy. So he counted slowly to five and then opened his eyes again. "Father, please. At least sit inside if you will not sleep."
For the longest moment, there was no answer. And then Jareth turned a little, leaning one hand against the rail as he levelled a curious look at his son. The beginnings of a rusty smirk began to make its presence felt. And if that were not such a shocking surprise, his words were- "Do you think I mean to jump and not save myself?"
Aidan blinked and looked down from the height they were at. "No."
"Then why, in the name of everything pure, are you so afraid to leave me on my own outside? Perhaps you expect me to vanish suddenly."
"No!"
"Oh, good. Then maybe you fear that there are still people out there that would try to harm me? At dead of night? When I am so weakened that I wouldn't even care?"
"I just worry for you."
"Aidan, I have no intention of ending my life," Jareth soothed, "Have I ever been so disgustingly dramatic? Your Dad might have done that, but not I. I wouldn't have the courage."
"I would hardly call it courage."
Jareth contemplated the peculiar conversation he seemed to be in the middle of. Aidan genuinely looked relieved at the assurances. Had the boy really thought… no, not boy. Man, now. Grown up and making his own decisions. Even if Jareth wasn't privy or approving to all of them. A strange change from that overwhelming blind faith. "What would you call it?" he asked lightly.
"Cowardice," Aidan insisted.
Terrible answer. "I already said your Dad might have indulged in it, were our positions reversed." Watching stormy blue eyes and icy control. Jareth was once again reminded of that morning's meeting he had missed. Aidan had taken care of everything with single-minded dedication, or so he heard. The cracks were sure to show anytime soon.
"Dad was a notorious coward where you were concerned. Or us. You know that."
Aidan swallowed the sizable fear in his throat. Near silence for days had prompted him to forget that calm was always ominous. His father was not a very rational person. And the one that had balanced him, stood as a buffer between that nasty temper and the rest of the world was lying cold in the ground in the forests behind the Castle. That tiny smirk had been the breaking of whatever glacial barrier had separated anger and grief. The barrier was now gone and Aidan had said the unforgivable.
Jareth lost his temper. Everything pressed down, pressed in, pushed and pushed and wanted more from him than he knew how to give and everything inside of him that had kept the balance felt as if it had been ripped out. It didn't matter any more what Lorelei said. He didn't care! Could no one understand that? It didn't matter that his children protested and begged. They were not his husband and they could not bring him the comfort he needed.
He hated. Hated that a small, slender mortal made him feel as if the sun would never rise again. It was a ridiculous feeling. It made him vulnerable and he was not a person comfortable with vulnerability.
His mind told him in agonizing clarity what he wanted to happen. He wanted somehow to hear that voice in his head that would yell at him for taking his temper out on his son and then to feel the slight ripple in the air as Toby apparated to be with him, glaring blue eyes narrowed. He wanted his lover again. He knew what he would do if Toby were to ever appear to him. Angry with him or not, Jareth would grab him and kiss him senseless, kiss him until he were breathless and glassy-eyed and incapable of coherent speech and then he would…
"Father?"
Jareth sucked in another lungful of air and half-heartedly pushed the soothing hands away from him. "Don't touch me," he panted, "Please."
Aidan nodded and let him fight his own battles with his lungs. Sleek limbs gracefully poised to catch the older male and support him, golden hair severely clipped back. Black and silver tunic and leggings, soft black boots and that soft, wide mouth that just waited unconsciously to offer hope. To offer love.
Jareth shrank back even further and shook his head. It never left, really- that fear. And he knew what Toby would have said to that. Would have cupped Jareth's angular face in his hands and told him to stop being an idiot. But Toby wasn't here! Was gone forever!
"Father?"
"I'm fine. I'm fine." He was. He could do this. He could step cautiously forward and hold out a hand, even if he was scared of what he might do.
Aidan's brows pulled together a little, obviously perturbed. But he accepted the hand in one of his and rubbed his thumb soothingly over the tensed knuckles. "I know it hurts," he said, "I know it feels as if life cannot possibly continue. But it does. And the only thing you do is hurt yourself."
"What else is there?" his father said bitterly, looking down at their hands. It was the first truly open thing he had said for weeks.
Aidan drew them just a little closer. "Let us help you," he pleaded, placing his other hand tentatively on a white-clothed shoulder. "Arradine and Ereditha both want to be there for you."
"I don't mean to push them away."
"But you do. Father, you are allowed to grieve! You loved someone deeply and they died. No one blames you for anything."
"I never said they did."
"I'm just telling you. It must have been hard." Aidan had been there. He knew how hard it had been.
"It was," Jareth remarked. He seemed to lose himself again, looking inwards to something else entirely.
Aidan used the moment to move closer. Hesitantly, he lifted his other hand to rest on his father's shoulder. Contact was not something allowed between the two of them. If they were close, it was always a closeness that was very aware of certain boundaries. This broke quite a few of them. People in grief were dangerous people, he had once heard someone say. His father was dangerous at the best of times.
"I remember how irritated Dad would get, though," Aidan offered, trying to make eye contact, "Whenever we tried to make him rest. Remember when he exploded the potion?"
Jareth's eyes snapped up, but the sparkle of amusement had replaced the usually dull haze. "Oh, yes. I remember," he breathed.
Aidan laughed softly and then much to his horror, heard his own voice end on a sob. He looked away in embarrassment and cleared his throat, well aware that the sparkle remained in mismatched eyes but that the amusement had turned to sympathy. He had meant to offer comfort, not ask for it!
Jareth studied his son, wracking his brain to think of why there were silent tears slipping unchecked down the smooth cheeks. Aidan didn't cry easily. And never in anyone else's presence. The last time had been when he had broken his heart for the first time. Never again. Never like this. It occurred to him that he had seen Arradine cry, and Ereditha, had heard stifled weeping from both as he had murmured the blessings mechanically at the funeral. Aidan had stood straight and true at his side, pale but resolute. Aidan had made arrangements and attended to… everything.
Toby wasn't here to make things better.
Without thought Jareth took them both down to the garden. Took them to the bench that Toby had once said was his favourite because it was so close to those little white flowers that smelt like lemon and something innocent. Took him there, sat them both down firmly and drew the fire-blond head down to his shoulder. Rocked back and forth.
The flash of memory: sitting in Aidan's simple nursery in Archer's palace, with an infant in his lap that was upset because he had had a bad dream and no one had been there to comfort him. Rocking them both and singing quietly.
Jareth didn't sing this time- he didn't think he could- but he could certainly hold his son tightly.
Aidan was shocked, but the shock only made things worse. He hadn't meant to cry. He had meant to do his duty to his King and father, to take Jareth indoors and perhaps force him to sleep for a few hours. He had meant to get up in the morning to politely reply to all the letters that various dignitaries had sent with their condolences. Then, he had meant to see the humans in the Ivory Tower.
But the reassuring smell of pine and smoke tore through his reservations, the feel of a hard shoulder achingly perfect for a heavy head. The soft, silky feel of a white chiffon shirt clutched tight in his fist. And since when had he fisted his hands in his father's shirt? Since when had he burst into tears and started wailing softly at the unfairness of it all?
Jareth let his son cry, shushed him when he tried to explain, held him tighter when he tried to pull away. There was no point in thinking. Instinct took over. He knew Aidan just as he knew himself. Just as he had known his elf. In the warm stillness of a hot summer's night, this was what was needed.
"I'm sorry."
"Never say that. If I can grieve, so can you. He sired you. He raised you. You have the right to love him."
"I love you too," Aidan replied, recklessly planting a tiny kiss on a cool cheek.
"I know." Jareth didn't remember the last time he had told his son he loved him. But he didn't do things like that. He just didn't.
Aidan didn't expect it either. He just accepted whatever he was given and treasured it as it was. Then he sat up straight and pushed away the emotions to direct a stern, business-like glare at the male beside him. "Then do not give me more work by having to worry for you while worrying for everyone else," he mock-ordered, "Come inside and sit with me. I have a few papers that need to be signed. Papers from the meeting?"
Jareth slumped and shut his eyes, annoyed with himself for having forgotten again. "Of course. Sorry. It completely slipped my mind and I can't think how I came to forget it. Yes. We should finish it tonight. Is it very urgent?"
Aidan softened and shook his head. "Not urgent. Just a few bits and pieces. I can manage most of it myself. I just thought you might want to occupy your mind, now."
Jareth leaned forward and looked up at him, as if really trying to see him for the first time in months. Every inch of Aidan- more or less- was familiar to his eyes. This tall, slender adult with his cynical blue eyes and innocent mouth was the very contradictions between the Goblin King and his late husband. Innocence mixed with knowing; bright smile and dark thoughts- Jareth could read them. Could see them turn in his clever mind while Aidan turned something over in his head. Aidan could be cruel.
Cruel and clever. Just as his father before him. Cruel and clever and capable of so much blindness. Aidan's blind spot wasn't a person, as Archer had been Jareth's, but was a way of thinking. Aidan believed that everyone was a risk and a hazard. He believed the world could not be a good place. He believed the very worst of everything. That was Aidan's fault.
Not necessarily a bad thing, Jareth owned. Not as unforgivable as Arradine's whole-hearted emotions or Ereditha's fretful doubting. Sunny women, the both of them. Arradine was the better version of Jareth that Toby had made her. But Jareth's impetuous nature was tempered by experience. She had yet to feel defeat. Ereditha had everything one could hope for- she was the darling of her family, the adored wife of the Fairy King and she was a strong, clever woman in her own right. She didn't have the strength to put everything on the line for a possible happy ending, too afraid it would go wrong.
Perhaps both Arradine and Ereditha were his fault- his and Toby's. Probably they were. After all, Arradine was Jareth's daughter. He had sired her, educated her, set her an example. Ereditha had been babied and coddled for so long. The dangerous past was never told her because Jareth and Toby had never thought it could affect her. But it could. Because she was a woman who obviously held that complete happiness came at too high a risk.
And Aidan…
"Father?"
Jareth looked up, startled out of his reverie by the quiet voice. Aidan wasn't fawning frantically over him. He was sitting there, a careful look of enquiry on his face, still slightly damp from his crying spree. Just sitting. And waiting patiently.
The right attributes of a King.
Aidan had been King in all but name for months. Since when? Jareth didn't even remember. He had begun to train the man when Aidan had returned to the Underground, at first because it took the child's mind off his dark memories and then because he grudgingly supposed it needed to begin sometime. Aidan had just been given a few things to do, here and there around the Castle. His opinion had been sought, his presence requested.
"You will make a fine King," Jareth commented out loud, reaching out a hand to stroke the golden head, "Your Dad would be proud."
"Thank you."
The request was unspoken but Jareth knew how these things went. To have that much dependence on one's father… "I'm proud of you too, but that goes without saying." He didn't make much of it.
Aidan didn't either. He just nodded and then offered his hand. "Inside? Please?"
Jareth grumbled as he got to his feet, gripping harder as he apparated them both to the library. "Children," he sighed scathingly, "They terrorize you for the rest of your life. Why they insist on keeping an old half-goblin from his rest I will never know."
"Because the old half-goblin can outlast them at almost everything," Aidan chuckled, smothering a yawn behind his hand.
The Goblin King grinned a tired smile and shrugged.