Viraag- the milk and juice combination.

Hastur- means 'Knight' in the fae tongue.

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Gildred arrived, as he always did, unexpectedly. The warning they got was when Jareth roused the servants fifteen minutes before they arrived late one evening.

Jervohl came downstairs the next morning to find a very familiar female sitting in her accustomed place at the breakfast table. She almost turned tail and ran. Except that Dervina rose from her place with a quiet smile and bowed. Jervohl couldn't be so rude as to ignore that.

"Ms. Jervohl," the fae said quietly.

"Dervina, you have always called me by name before," Jervohl sighed, "How are you? It is good to see you again." She held out her hand to the other female and then invited her to sit. "Is My Lord here on good business or bad?"

How easy, she mused, it was to fall into old habits. Gildred was always 'My Lord' to her. Woe betide any of the outlaws if they did not respect his title.

"I have no notion," Dervina admitted, "We were told to follow him here and that was all. I thought perhaps you would know?"

Jervohl thought back to her attacker. Better not to say anything about that, she decided, until she had spoken with Jareth first. Her brother knew more than he had so far mentioned. Considering he had gone out of his way to mention nothing, that was not a hard thing to believe. "Perhaps it is politics," she said vaguely.

Dervina shook her brown head. "The meeting would have been in the outposts, then, as always. Not at the Castle at the centre of the Labyrinth. You know the drill."

Yes, she knew the drill. The few times Gildred had met with Jareth, he had left her behind in his fortress, hiding her away like a secret weapon he could introduce only when strictly necessary.

If any of this showed in her face, Dervina never acknowledged it. Instead she picked delicately at her food and continued to talk in her deep, husky voice. "He has been with the Goblin King since early this morning. He has only Braan in attendance with him. I suppose that will be enough protection."

Jervohl raised an incredulous eyebrow.

That, Dervina certainly did see. Her eyes widened ever so slightly in dawning horror and she looked genuinely upset as she clasped the other's hand across the table. "Forgive my plain speaking. I meant no insult."

"I should hope not. Friend or foe, Jareth has never yet set a trap like that!" Jervohl let her old friend stew for a while in silent apology while she poured herself some viraag. Looking up, she caught the worried frown in brown eyes and finally smiled reluctantly. "I understand this situation makes you anxious. Jareth can be a manipulative creature. But I do not think he means any harm to any of you… this time."

Dervina might have squirmed had she not been quite so well trained. As it was she was flushed and bewildered, trying to make reparation without openly lying. "I am sure his intentions have never been suspect," she tried, "I have always had the utmost respect for him."

"No, you have not," Jervohl grinned, "You have frequently boasted of being able to best him at any skill with your hands tied and a blindfold over your eyes. You think him useless and self-indulgent."

"Perhaps a little confident in himself, but never self-indulgent!" Dervina didn't know where to look. She was a warrior, not a diplomat. Her job was the cohort of assassins that answered only to her and to Gildred. She was the head of his personal guard! She should have stayed in bed.

"Self-indulgent," Jervohl insisted, "And useless." She couldn't help grinning wickedly as the older fae tried to formulate some kind of neutral reply. She just watched her, waiting for the coin to drop. It didn't.

Dervina was in such a state, she was all but lying through her teeth. Jervohl was saved from placating her by the entry of the Lady Pandora, who took one look at the sudden panic in brown eyes and allowed some of her customary sharpness to subside a little. Dervina calmed under her kindness and said all the right things that Braan had told her to say.

Jervohl made her excuses when she felt a strong ordered magic shift in the Castle. It meant that Gildred was on the move. She did not particularly want to run into him, but she would not run away either. She meant to make sure that their paths did not cross, just to save both herself and Gildred from the embarrassment of meeting again. So she made her way to the stables, intending to find a mount that could take her away for the day. But the black-maned koern that barked at her was such an unexpected and welcome surprise that she hastened to his stall without a thought, exclaiming over him with the same devout pleasure that he seemed to show for her.

A few minutes, she told herself, just so she could make friends with Hastur again.

The koern shook his big head and nipped at her fingers with his sharp teeth, knowing well enough to be gentle with this fae. He swished a long, serpentive tongue out to sooth any hurt he might have caused, purring contentedly when she scratched him behind the ear.

Serenity whickered and laid back her ears, almost bouncing defiantly in her spacious stall at being so ignored for one of those ugly creatures.

Jervohl never paid her the least mind as she continued to rub the dark mane and down over the strong spine. "Perfect condition as always," she exulted, "No wounds since the last time, Hastur. You have had a peaceful time, I think."

The koern began to make a curious sound like a purr and a yip. It sounded as though someone were ripping a length of cloth in sharp bursts. Jervohl stiffened and turned around, meeting a pair of grey eyes with as much defiance as she could muster. The pointed tip of a two-edged sword was pointed at the exact centre of her sternum. She knew that sword; it was always sharp enough to slice through a hair at a touch. Gildred could not afford it to be otherwise.

And it was currently almost touching her.

She stood still and waited.

"The second time in a year, Ms. Jervohl," Gildred said mirthlessly, "Almost worth being in this infested country."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"No? I have a sword pointed at you in your brother's Castle and you will not even tell me to lower it? Or do you think I just won't use it?"

Jervohl sighed and raised a silver ribboned hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I know you will use it if you must," she said ruefully, "But I hardly think you will use it here."

The smallest hint of a smile told her all she wanted to know. Jervohl knew that smile. For so long she had fought his reigns, hating the coldness and the savage boundaries he put up around her. Of all the things she disliked, it was an order. Her pride was great, but Gildred's was greater. She had allowed it finally, too tired to fight. And he had held out a hand to pick her off the floor and smiled that quick twist of the lips at her. It was very rare, that smile.

"Besides," she continued, daring to grow bolder with every second, "You would not dare hurt an unarmed maiden, would you?"

"So helpless, my Jervohl?" he teased, lowering the weapon, "Less than a year and you remember too little of what I taught you. How will you survive returning with me? Never mind. If I keep you close to me, no one will have the gall to harm you."

Survive… return… close…? Jervohl's jaw dropped and her eyes almost fell out of her head.

It was not an attractive look for her and had Gildred not already been hopelessly in love, he might have found it quite off-putting. As it was, he only put the sword back in its scabbard and set it carefully against the wall of the stable. And then he just waited, the smile growing to an even rare look of pleasure on his face.

"Never," she finally gasped.

"I am afraid you have no choice in it," Gildred said brutally, "The arrangements will be made with your brother by the end of the week. Jareth has already called for your Council to meet, and there he will announce a new era of tolerance between our kingdoms, cemented by the marriage between the Outlaw King and the Goblin King's sister."

"They will never… he will never… how… Jareth said…" Jervohl was having trouble breathing, let alone talking.

"My dear, if you do not calm down, you will turn purple," the outlaw soothed, "Come here." He took her by the shoulders to support her and rubbed her back, trying to get her to steady herself. "It will work out. You shall see."

"I…" she took a deep breath and tried again, "I have no intention of marrying you, My Lord. What put such an unlikely idea in your head, I will never know. But no! I will do no such thing."

"You have, as I said, no choice in the matter."

She gasped in fury and then brought the heel of her shoe down hard on his foot, ramming her elbow backwards until Gildred let go of her very swiftly. The male let out a quiet sound half of distress and half of amusement and stepped back, shaking the pain from his foot.

No choice, indeed! A mockery of everything that Jervohl had dreamed of and never once hoped for. She did not belong in his world. He had said that himself, the last time she had seen him. She despised him. She hated him completely- never mind that she loved him as much- and she was prepared to remember exactly how he had taught her to put a hole in someone's face. A quiet wish and the sword in the scabbard came to her hand. She tossed the scabbard lightly away and held the weapon with perfect balance.

Gildred waited, patiently, watchfully.

Jervohl looked at the sword and dropped it tiredly. She couldn't bring herself to use it against him. "What am I to say to you?"

Gildred kicked the sword with the toe of his boot- a shocking action of disrespect for such a graceful weapon- and left it where it was. But he didn't approach her. He didn't want to push her too far. That wasn't what he was aiming to do, at least. "The first time I saw you, you spat in my face and I hit you."

"I remember."

"The second time you hit me and I had your hands tied behind your back for three days. You went without eating, drinking, or changing out of those disgracefully torn clothes."

"I would not ask for help."

He looked up, smiling the same smile but with an entirely different meaning to it. "After everything I did to you, it was still very easy to imagine that you were really in service to me."

Jervohl snorted and took the ribbon off her hand. It was an archaic symbol of non-marital status.The tradition had been fading when she was first a youngfemale and she was one of the few that still wore it now. Traditions changed, even in the Underground, and no one thought it was very important anymore for unmarried females to advertise their availability for mating. Jervohl would not advertise it here.

Gildred wasn't lost to why she would remove the ribbon so distinctly from her left hand. "You are no longer available," he interpreted, "Jareth did not tell me this."

"Jareth," Jervohl snapped, "Is an interfering old hen. He would do better to keep his nose out of my business and you would do better to not rely on his advice. Sanity knows he has never done more than confuse an issue."

Gildred looked confused as well. "What are we talking about?" he asked, "I was only saying that Jareth mentioned that you were lonely. He said you seemed to miss working as you had done under my command. What were you saying?"

Jareth hadn't set this up? Jervohl opened and closed her mouth indecisively. "I was not saying very much," she excused, "Just that Jareth is not the best person to take advice from."

"I was not taking advise from him," Gildred protested, "But I came to find you, hoping to make peace when the Lady Pandora found me."

The Lady Pandora! Jervohl wanted to shout 'aha' and then burst into hysterical laughter all at once. Trust her mother to be the interference. And just what had the Lady Pandora told Gildred about her daughter? She already knew entirely too much; Jervohl had told her too much. What if she had blatantly threatened Gildred into making such an absurd proposal. Funny to think of the Outlaw King… Outlaw King!

"You are declaring a Kingship?" she asked, caught by the sudden news, "When did you decide? I cannot believe you are finally agreeing. Braan has been attempting to persuade you for years."

Gildred shrugged. "He has always wanted it. Few other leaders have managed to consolidate the lands as I have. But they are still essentially separate settlements. I think the only way to really bring them together in any cohesive manner will require me to make this a Kingdom. They will fight it."

"You have the powerstone," Jervohl pointed out softly, nodding to the medallion hidden inside the neck of his shirt.

"The better to impose the command on them," he agreed.

Hastur grunted plaintively and Serenity whinnied restively. Both fae jumped at the interruptions and then broke off the conversation, a little embarrassed by such a display of fighting and emotion. Gildred was not wont to deport himself in such a manner. Only in the Goblin Kingdom, he pondered, had he ever found a reason to lose his calm confidence and behave like an instinctive idiot.

He searched out carefully and followed the careful chaos patterns in his mind to where Jareth was located. If he were not mistaken, and Gildred thought to himself that he rarely was, the Goblin King was in a bit of sorry situation as well. Not love, naturally, because that was too strong an emotion. But certainly in lust. And such an unusual candidate!

But then, the Goblin King had already displayed a taste for being emotionally involved with mortals. Gildred couldn't understand why. Magically, they had no ability. Most of them could not even conceive of magic. Why they were of any concern at all was anyone's guess. If he had his way, the entire dimension would be sealed away from the earth plane and kept safe from the 'snatchgrab' of humanity.

And yet humans could be quite useful in their small ways. A little training and a little guidance and Toby would make an admirable lieutenant. Not a general, of course, because he was not the sort of person that Gildred would ever want in charge of his forces. But as an executor of commands he would be talented. Yes. He would be good to have in training, a big man like that with a strict sense of loyalty.

Not that Gildred fooled himself into believing Toby would ever consent to have anything to do with him. The mortal thought well of him, but disliked Gildred's policies. That was made abundantly clear when Jareth warned him to steer clear of the subject in Toby's hearing.

"He might hit you," the Goblin King had warned, "And I will not tolerate your hitting him back."

So Jareth cared, evidently. Well and good. Let him care.

Gildred sighed and moved out of Jervohl's direct line of escape. He held her gaze for as long as it was upon him and then he watched as she walked away, pride firmly straightening her shoulders and lifting her eyes. She would not bow.

Toby… Gildred scratched his head and thought about that. Toby would bow. If he felt it justified. Jervohl would fight for the hell of it, just so that it was understood that she was not some meek and mild little milk-and-water miss. Gildred liked that. Jareth, on the other hand, seemed to treat rejection with respect and submission with impatience. Such a peculiar coupling of persons- one of which was comprised of several personalities in reserve- would never work.

But it was not his problem. It was up to the Goblin King, his ward and the female they both counted as their mother. A bizarre situation all around.

Gildred pushed the entire thing out of his mind and let Hastur out of his stall. The koern flexed powerful shoulders and scraped long claws down the wooden floor. He stood fully past Gildred's shoulder, a monster of an animal, with a long silver scar down the right flank from a battle a long while ago. Hastur rubbed his muzzle against Gildred's shoulder and curled a long tail around his leg. It was comfort of sorts, for the disappointment.

Gildred accepted a few moments of it and then pushed Hastur away. "Come," he ordered, "I think the famous Tanglewood Forest will be a new challenge for you today. Let us see how you handle it."

He swung up onto the broad back, clasping tight with his knees and thighs. A piercing whistle and the creature bounded away like an arrow, silent and soundless as he was trained to be in movement.