Author's Note: A strange chapter, this one… hmmm… Tell me what you make of it. I like it, but then I did write it.
Author's Note 2: I will eventually get around to fixing this properly, but I recently re-read my chapters and was horrified to find that I described Toby's pupils as being dilated. They were not dilated; they were constricted or contracted. They were pinpricks because of too much light too close to his eyes. Not dilated! Dilated is what Jareth's left pupil (the damaged one) is like- open wide and bigger than the other.
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Tending to a physically unwell Goblin King was not as hard as Toby had expected.
Jareth was a surprisingly good patient. He basically slept through everything.
Toby had woken up to find his guardian still deeply asleep in his bed. The initial denial and shock had faded in a second to utter exasperation and he had stared at the ceiling, too reluctant to move from his bed to get on with the rest of his day. He couldn't understand why he had been sucked into reacting the way he had.
And the male still breathing deeply at his side, head sharing his pillow and hand curled just under his back- Toby had had no clue how to treat him now.
He obviously knew how he would like to treat him… but would that be the best decision?
The mortal had rolled his eyes and reminded himself that he was not a coward. In the privacy of his own thoughts, he admitted that he could not regret very much, no matter how much of a bad decision it was. Logically, it had been a bad decision to have anything to do with Jareth. But he could hardly have left the fae to stew in his own difficulties! Logically speaking, Toby should have left Jareth in his bed and considerately slept in another room. Even better, he should have roused the Castle and absolved himself from any responsibility… thereby putting the entire position of the Goblin Kings at risk and ruining whatever little trust had driven Jareth to him in the first place.
Toby might not quite like Jareth, but he freely agreed that he never wanted to see him in that pain again. It was disgusting to think of anyone so unwell. And Jareth! Someone so blatantly flippant and independent- to see him stumble through the door and cry quietly into the pillow was to see the world turn the wrong way. Though the surreality had been just as strong when the upset gave way to sex.
It was all very puzzling.
Toby had eventually gotten up quietly to go to the bathroom andmade the choice not to make any decisions at all. It was all very well speculating like this, but a wise person he had never met had once written that reason could only come with a proper understanding of the facts. Toby understood goblins and dances and the day-to-day running of a household. He understood swords and weapons and the reason why no guard but the King's own was allowed to use gunpowder. He did not understand the Goblin King or his personality.
He would just have to wait for Jareth to wake up to receive his cues. No doubt the Goblin King would be his normal dismissive self again. But the question remained as to whether to wake him or let him sleep.
Toby had stood by the bed and watched the pale chest rise and fall for a few minutes, trying to imagine and plan for every scenario in his head. He was prepared for Jareth to have another mad scheme in mind. He was prepared to have the Goblin King growl at him to cover his embarrassment. He was even prepared to find that Jareth thought it all highly amusing. Privately, Toby had hoped for the latter. It would mean the fae was once again the self-absorbed egomaniac that he knew.
It was all a game of dice and there had been no telling which way the wind would blow.
Then, naturally, Jareth had woken up and in his usual unpredictable way, had been so quietly deathlike that Toby had been at a brief loss for words. The Goblin King had looked around, blinked to clear his gaze and wiped at his mouth meditatively before tiredly running a hand through his hair. Then he had laid himself back down and stared at the wall with blind unhappiness.
There were no choices here. Toby had had no contingency plan and so he had trusted to his instincts. He made the note to himself that if Jareth ever questioned it, he could say the Goblin King had ordered him to dispense with rationale.
"Hello," he had said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "How do you feel?"
Jareth barely shifted as he drew a deep breath. "No longer drained," he had said.
Toby had not taken that as a good sign. Jareth was not upset, but he was not happy either. That was patently obvious. He had hesitantly put his hand out. He had always thought it wise to treat Jareth like an untamed animal in a tricky situation. Jareth wouldn't hesitate to bite- metaphorically speaking- if he felt he wanted to. But he merely slid his eyes to catch Toby's blue gaze and then the fingers loosely touched a recently untangled strand of blond hair.
Picking it up, Toby had gently stroked, hoping it would bring back enough of that intimate connection to allow him to say what he was going to. "I cannot order you to do anything, nor do I have any idea what is best. But perhaps telling Her Ladyship would be a good idea?"
The eyes had shut completely. "No. She does not need to know this."
"Why not?" he had tested.
A pale shoulder had flexed and stiffened. "It is my problem and I will deal with it."
Weighing options, there was little that Toby could do, really. Going against the Goblin King's preferences was not something to take lightly. It was not his prerogative in any case. Thick fingers had dropped from the lock of hair to the tensed shoulder.
"Rest, then. No one will disturb you here."
The shoulder had not relaxed as he hoped it would and Toby had sighed and let go on his own initiative. Standing up, he had looked down with no little worry. Instincts had a bad habit of including actual emotions.
"Will you be alright? Do you need anything?"
"No."
Toby had nodded and left the room. He had shut the door quietly behind him and stifled an annoying urge to open it again to see whether Jareth had opened his eyes. He had- if only to humour these strange impulses that he was beginning to respond to- waited outside the door in case anything untoward happened. But Jareth seemed to go straight back to staring at the wall or sleeping and so he had left for the small morning room on the ground floor, mentally preparing a suitable story for any enquiries.
He met a goblin going in and smiled at the little creature, courteously holding the door while it struggled in with a dish of hot porridge. The Lady Pandora smiled and waved him to the table.
"Good morning, Toby. Sleep well, dear?"
"Quite well," he said, sitting down, "You?"
"Slept like a baby," she laughed, sipping at her tea, "Please taste the porridge. Eloise insisted that the cook learn and there was such a fuss because both Eloise and the cook decided they did not like each other."
Toby laughed along with her and served himself. He wasn't a big fan of the dish, but he would do anything to keep the peace. The little goblin bowed to the Lady and left.
"Where is everyone?" Pandora demanded, "Jareth is usually up by now."
Toby considered what to say. "I do not know if he is awake, My Lady. Why do you ask? Is there something wrong?"
"No, no, Toby, of course not. As if I would ever go to my delightful son if anything were wrong. He's likely to laugh in my face for it," Pandora said acidly, "I merely ask. I thought I heard footsteps in the corridor last night. I was wondering if he went on another of his nocturnal adventures."
Toby looked blankly at her. He was too unnerved by the thought that his room shared a wall with Jervohl and the young fae might have heard what went on in his bed.
Luckily, Pandora completely mistook his sudden freeze to be about something entirely different- "Jareth has always had the habit of roaming when and where he decides. Even as a child! The number of times his nurse complained that he was wandering the palace at midnightis too many to count. His father tried shouting at him for it and it did not work. He simply forgot at the prospect of sitting on the roof and did it again three nights later."
Toby had seen three portraits drawn of the family when it was young. With each new addition, a new portrait was commissioned. In the first portrait, a tow-headed little fae had stood at his father's knee, a surprisingly elated little smile hovering on his face. Watchful eyes and the way he put his hand on his mother's knee made Toby think the little boy was about to exclaim about some delight he had found. The second portrait was done eight years later. Jareth was older; his brother was six and smiling cheekily at him. The two looked as though they were sharing a joke as the two adults posed with proper aloofness. The third and last portrait was missing the tall, genial male who stood at the back, but it featured a little girl who sat in her mother's lap and stared unflinchingly out with grave green eyes. Dieter was a quieter ten, though the absent adult's good nature lurked in his thin face. Jareth took his father's place with an almost mocking poise, standing with typically boneless elegance as he looked airily to the left, where the viewer's gaze could not follow.
"Well, if you do not know where he is, then I certainly do not," Pandora interrupted, flinging her hands out in surrender, "I suppose he will show his face when he wants to."
Toby nodded and ate, turning the conversation to something a little less fraught with difficulty. The Lady did not seem to take notice and she followed his lead happily enough. She did look well and Toby took the opportunity to spend a little time with her, relieved to see the hollows disappear from her eyes and the sparkle come back. She even took his arm in an impromptu Open Court day for the castle staff, where the goblins with problems or grievances could feel free to speak of them. Jareth had no patience and Gonzo had little time. The poor things were rowdy and could get out of hand, but most didn't make trouble.
Toby obligingly listened while Pandora played secretary. A good pile of signed complaints was written up and Pandora sighed as she sat back in her seat.
"That should keep that wastrel busy for a while," she groaned, "Well, I suppose we cannot always have a good King. King Hayle was such a lovely person. Do you know that there was a large outcry when a second fae was selected to rule? And one so young and brash. Many thought Jareth had manipulated it somehow. His subsequent behaviour did not help matters."
Toby shuffled the papers together. "Did you think it?"
She scoffed ruefully at him. "I say a lot of uncomplimentary things. But Jareth was chosen for some obscure reason, even if I do not know what it is." She was silent for a moment as a goblin came back in for a minute to offer his services for anything they desired. "It makes me angry to see him waste his advantages so."
Toby nodded mutely and stood up. Papers in one hand and the Lady Pandora's hand on his other arm and they left the stateroom they had been using. Pandora left him at the study with an exclamation about some letters that she had to write and Toby put the letters down on the desk.
The photo caught his eye.
His eyesight was almost back to normal, apart from a tendency to blur when he strained it too much. He picked up the photograph and looked at it.
The face was familiar. The smile was not. The few memories of Sarah that he had were of a constant running argument. He remembered his mother trying to mediate, worried when Sarah didn't eat another meal or didn't speak for another evening. He remembered Sarah moping listlessly home from school and locking herself in her room. He remembered Sarah in her casket.
Toby put the photograph back down and shook his head. In the Underground, the story went that she had died of a broken heart. He couldn't see it himself. Did it make any sense to love someone and yet not tell them? Why bother with details when all that mattered was being with the person you wanted to be with?
Because, his more cold-blooded side reminded him, life is not always about love and an idealistic image of family. If anything, Sarah's death taught him that living for ideals would only kill him. He had his ideals, yes. Toby considered himself to be a closet idealist. He believed in honesty and truth and justice. He believed beauty was not just an outward appearance. He believed in equality of all races. He believed in living for the good of society. If love were not compatible to those ideals, then he would force himself to turn from it.
Luka.
The thought came unbidden to him. The fae had been so wonderful to him, but if the latest news was true... Toby had only been twenty, too tall and too awkward, tired of being treated like a child. Adults indulged him and the others his age were too frivolous. Pandora didn't seem to realize that she had raised him to be older than his years. Vinni drilled it into him that he needed to repay his benefactors with hard work and sensibility. Toby himself had always held to be too different from any other race around him.
The mortal sighed and shook his head. The world was tipping to the wrong side as far as he was concerned. His world had been crumbling from its comfortable foundation for six months. Was it really fair to blame Jareth for all of that?
Yes.
Toby didn't underestimate Jareth's capabilities. The Goblin King could have talked the Duke out of his pet project with little or no effort. He had instead chosen to agree because it suited his whim and fancy. The one concession Jareth had made to gentility had been to take on the task himself.
There was something there as to why Jareth was still trying to make this work. From all reports, Toby would not have expected his interest to last this long, even if Jareth did use a promise to Sarah as an excuse.
He left the study still pondering his situation. If it weren't for Jareth, he would be comfortably able to stay in the Lady's palace and live his routine existence. He would not be pulled and pushed and careened every which way by Jareth's weather-change flashes of inspiration.
The door to his room was still closed and Toby pushed it open quietly, an eyebrow rising to see Jareth sitting up in his bed, book in hand. Again, the Goblin King was unpredictable. Toby would have expected him to go back to his own room and go back to sleep.
"Good afternoon," he said peaceably.
Jareth didn't put the book away, but he lowered it politely. "Hello. Am I in your way?" He sounded distinctly chatty.
"No," Toby hastened to answer, lifting a hand to motion him to stay where he was, "Not at all. I came to see how you felt. Do you feel better?"
Jareth sat up straighter. "Ah, yes. I should probably apologize," he began slowly, "I did interrupt your night's sleep and I did put you in a dreadful situation." Mismatched eyes levelled with blue. "But I think we both got enough out of it that I do not have to."
The Goblin King picked up the book again and nodded with a small smirk.
Toby couldn't believe his ears. It couldn't be possible that Jareth was complaisantly suggesting that he had already returned the favour with sex! If he had had a pillow to hand he would have smothered the fae. And then he caught that innocent enquiry affixed to a private laugh and he settled for glowering.
Jareth tossed the book away and stretched before patting the bed beside him. "Come here."
That smirk was possibly a leer.
Toby baulked, all good sense rebelling.
"Go on," Jareth teased gently, "You were doing so well before. Take another chance."
The mortal sat down and waited.
Jareth only looked at him with hideously satisfied triumph and said, "There! Was that so hard? Have I eaten you alive ? Have I infected you with some deadly disease? Anyone would think I was contagious the way you avoid me!"
Toby had a headache. He was certain of that. He couldn't sit there and follow such a convoluted and inane conversation without acquiring one. He nodded carefully and continued to wait.
Jareth didn't seem particularly needy of an intelligent response. He was talking animatedly, expressing exuberance for all the advantages of living by impulse. He spoke well and he spoke for a great length of time. At the end of that time, he collapsed laughing because Toby was just staring at him in horror-struck wonder.
Success, he considered it. He hadn't been that insensible of what Toby might think. The mortal was predictable and Jareth knew his type. At least Toby could still see a joke.
Jareth had never underestimated a quirky sense of humour as a viable method of easing a tense situation. He positively adored it at that exact moment.
