"The Council is convened, Sire."
Jareth nodded vaguely but didn't move from his seat at his desk. He was still busy scribbling and his hand and eyes had yet to leave the paper.
Gonzo waited patiently.
"Have the Duke sent to me first," Jareth said suddenly, "Alone."
"Now, Sire?"
"Now."
"Yes, Sire." Gonzo bowed and shut the door carefully. He stood outside for a moment and mopped his brow, wishing that the Goblin King could be a little more consistent. These unpredictable bouts of duty were too tiring for a goblin of his sensibilities. His wife had always said he wasn't cut out for the job. She had told him. Gonzo scowled at the wall and straightened his coat. What did his wife know?
The twitch in a corner alerted his attention.
"Gibil," he roared, grabbing the smaller goblin by the neck and shaking him, "What are you doing here? Why are you here? What did you hear? How dared you!" He boxed Gibil's ears and dropped him to the floor.
The little goblin squeaked in fear and tried to run away.
Straight into Jareth's slender, shapely leg.
Gibil fell over, and couldn't find it in himself to even squeak any more. Most goblins had some sort of noise to signify fear. Gibil was a coward. And he was tiny. There were very little that he could do if someone decided that he needed to be in several different pieces. So he squeaked. But when his eyes bulged out of the sockets and his tattered ears quivered straight into the air and his jaw hung almost to his chest without emitting a sound, then it was obvious that he was more affected than normal.
Jareth glared down at him with thinned lips, hands on hips and giving no appearance of dismissing him as he usually did.
"Sire, this goblin was caught eavesdropping," Gonzo snapped, poking a righteous finger at the back of Gibil's head.
"Was he?" Jareth tilted his head. "Gibber, was it? I think we need to have a little talk."
Gibil was so scared he didn't even correct the mispronunciation of his name. His name didn't matter. It wasn't important. It was the state of his person that Gibil was more concerned with. Gibil could stand his name to be mutilated, but not his limbs. No self-respecting creature wanted to be parted from their heads, no matter what the fieries thought.
"Get up, you silly crow," Gonzo hissed, "His Majesty is waiting."
"Gonzo, I have yet to meet with the Duke," Jareth said pointedly. Gonzo fled. Then the fae turned and walked into his study.
Gibil picked himself off the floor and bravely decided to run away. He barely moved one foot when a voice in his ear said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you," and vanished. He cringed but crept cautiously to the study. Jareth was back in his seat and scribbling furiously. He looked up just once but it was only to pick up a report on the far side of the desk and consult it about something.
"S-Sire, I is sorry," the poor thing attempted.
"Shut the door."
Gibil shut the door and crept another step into the room.
Jareth finished, signed his name, shut the ledger and put it aside. He then put down his pen very carefully and turned in his chair. "Sit down, Gibil," he said pleasantly.
The goblin found a chair appearing just under him and his legs gave out with the shock, depositing him in an untidy heap in the cushioned seat.
"We need to have a little talk, you and I," Jareth said again, "You see, I do not like be spied upon. And you have been doing it for a very long time, now." Gibil's squeak returned with a vengeance. He gave such a loud one, it made the Goblin King raise an enquiring eyebrow. "You are not scared, are you, Gibil?"
The goblin squeaked again- this time softly to himself- and cowered.
Jareth almost smirked. He quite enjoyed the effect that he had on the goblins. Most of them would do anything in world to keep him happy. An unhappy Jareth meant a Jareth that would not hesitate to take his unhappiness out on his goblins. They were still divided as to whether he was merely forbidding, or a devil. He guessed Gibil had regarded him as the former until this little escapade.
"Come, come, Gibber," he mocked, "What is the worst I could do to you? Throw you into the Bog… an oubliette… to the rock monster in the Labyrinth or a fire monster in the forest…"
Gibil began to gnaw on his fingernails in fright.
Jareth sighed and shook his head. Even he was not so evil. And he was inclined to be less angry with the goblin and more inclined to finding him useful. "Stop biting your nails, you filthy creature," he said in goblin, "I am not about to hurt you. Assist me in a little matter and I will let you go free."
Gibil took his nail out of his mouth, but looked woefully bewildered. Big words confused him. Goblins didn't like being confused; it messed with their inane sense of assurance. Plus, Jareth's big words were frightening because Gibil didn't think he could dare to be confused.
Jareth stifled another sigh, a deeper one this time. "I will ask you questions and you will answer them," he said tersely, "And you will tell no one of any of this. No one! Do I make myself clear?"
"Y- yes, Sire."
"Alright. Stop shivering. It is not cold. Are you friends with Mr. Williams?"
Gibil blinked tragic, dark eyes. This wasn't such a hard question. "No, Sire," he said honestly.
"No? Hmmm. I was certain he spoke kindly of you."
"He speak with me, Sire, but not friendly, oh no." Gibil was very firm about that. "We is not friends, Sire, no. How can we is friends? I serve Mr. Williams, Sire. He being good to me."
Jareth rolled his eyes and tried to think of how to phrase what he had to say. "He is good to a lot of people," he agreed, "Pity take the poor fool. Have you ever overheard a talk I have had in private and repeated it to him?"
"No, Sire!" Gibil was shocked, he really was.
"Gibil, you have three seconds by the count of the clock to tell me the truth. Or I will tip you straight into the Bog of Eternal Stench before you can blink."
The four clocks obligingly began to tick even louder, so out of tune and out of sync with each other that it was impossible to tell when the three seconds began or ended. Gibil fell out of the chair and onto the floor, covering his head and his ears quivering like antennae.
"I is sorry, I is sorry," he wailed, "I never meant no harm! I only told Mr. Williams so he couldn'ts finds out."
Jareth rubbed his eyes. "What did you tell Mr. Williams," he prompted. This was giving him a headache already and they were barely beginning.
"I- I- I can'ts," Gibil whispered wretchedly.
Jareth never underestimated the power of fear. Unfortunately, fear sometimes made people say less when it overwhelmed them. Therefore it did neither of them any good for him to keep threatening the truth out of Gibil. So he wiped the coldness from his face and settled for merely looking stern. He softened his voice and he leaned forward intimately, offering a lifeline almost by stretching out his hand. He compromised with himself by leaving the glove on, but that went without saying.
"If you tell me," he promised, "No harm will come to you." Tragic dark eyes peeped up from over trembling hands. "I will not hurt you," he clarified.
Gibil sat up and stroked the leather glove, not even considering that it was there to help him off the floor. It was a reverential touch, as if he was touching something that he treasured. Most goblins treasured their King, no matter who had the throne at any given time. "Your Majesty saids that he didn't like Mr. Williams, Sire. Your Majesty said so."
Jareth took his hand away, uncomfortable already. "I see. When was this?"
Gibil shrugged and hid his head again.
"With who was I talking?" Jareth urged.
"The Lady Pandora."
Jareth recalled the incident. That had been the tense time in the middle there, when Toby had called him a whore and he had blinded the mortal for it. Not a good time at all. So that was what Toby meant about 'spies'. Jareth appraised the little goblin looking tragically up at him from the floor. Completely untrustworthy, he surmised, a gossip and a coward and the last person anyone would ever expect had the gall to eavesdrop on conversations not meant for his ears. It was sheer genius! There had to be something about Toby Williams that inspired loyalty in almost every goblin he met- Gibil, Mrs. Bonn, the other servants both in the Lady Pandora's palace and in the Castle.
Jareth twisted his impressions of the other male, trying to reconcile this new piece of work. Toby was easy to understand, but there were bits of the mortal that did not quite fit. "Thank you, Gibil, you may go."
Gibil ran for the door and only stopped to shut it after him before continuing on down to the kitchens.
Jareth sat still and thought. Toby was a well brought up man, with a wealth of common sense and logic and the conventional indulgences. He liked activity- perfectly understandable, considering his apparent need to be of continuous service to anyone in the near vicinity. This, in turn, took care of his obvious self-oblivion and his ability to get on with anyone at all. To top it off, Toby was just a genuinely likable man! He said nothing that was untoward, he acted with perfect politeness and just the right shade of familiarity, and he didn't even think anything that strayed from the path of conservative moderation.
Then why was it, he growled to himself, that the man had short, sudden sequences that made no sense! Why insist, at the start of the year, that he would never intentionally convert? He counted the Underground as his home. His family were fae. He had lived here since he was nine and there was nothing that the Aboveground offered him that Toby seemed inclined to want. Then why insist on his mortality?
Jareth didn't understand it. He hadn't had the time to give it much thought.
And then there was the way that Toby did not want anyone to know about the supposed relationship they were indulging in. Jareth added the word 'supposed' to the thought because they had yet to begin anything. The deal had been made. They had agreed to all terms and conditions. But they had yet to try. Jareth was just never in the mood and Toby never once came to his room. They were almost… friends! And wasn't that a scary thought! Any more and Jareth might be lulled into considering Toby almost in the light of a younger brother. Like Dieter.
And then there were certain things that set Toby off. Things that might be said by anyone with all good intentions and Toby would burn the barest hint of pink and look horribly casual. It obviously upset him. Jareth suspected that it was to do with his physical appearance. Yet Toby didn't seem to be lacking in confidence. It couldn't be that.
The heavy tread of feet announced the arrival of the Duke and Jareth put the thoughts away for another time. He had another matter on hand. Really! The last twelve months were the most eventful ones he had ever endured. It was quite a change of pace from his usually austere life. On certain levels he was quite happy to sit back and see where it took him.
"Duke Bevil," he greeted, "Come in. I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you."
"Your Majesty," the Duke said, bowing deeply.
Jareth's mouth twitched. Before coming to his senses, he had made a mental bet on whether or not the Duke's wig was in danger of falling off. The wig didn't fall off, so Jareth won.
"I am completely at your disposal."
His sense of humour was going too far. Jareth had to swallow a bark of laughter over that line. Oh, he wouldn't mind disposing of the Duke. But even the Bog wouldn't tolerate his sour face!
"Your Majesty?"
Jareth swallowed one last time and allowed his blandest smirk to grace his face. "Pardon me. I was momentarily distracted by another issue. Which brings me back to the issue in question. I asked to speak with you in private because my sister is intending to get married."
"Is she indeed?" The Duke looked honestly delighted. He rubbed his hands together obsequiously and almost bounced where he stood. "All congratulations, of course, Your Majesty."
Jareth shrugged nonchalantly. "Why? I am not getting married."
The Duke looked confused and then laughed a bright laugh. "Aha, Your Majesty, your sense of humour; yes. But," he bravely wagged a finger at the Goblin King, "It is high time that you undertook such a sacred office yourself."
Jareth was now thoroughly annoyed. The little shrimp was a pain. Jareth longed to chase him away, preferably with something heavy. "Yes," he said shortly, "However, one sacred office at a time is enough for me. About my sister…"
"Ah, but a proper female to live with you in respect and harmony is what you need, if I may say so. A loving family. Children, even. I am sure you would make a wonderful father."
Jareth took a deep breath and a hard hold of the nearest paperweight. "I am sure," he said, determined to steer the conversation around without being rude.
But the Duke had a thick hide. "Yes, it would be the perfect example of domestic happiness," he meditated, "A handsome female would be the perfect counterpart to your- pardon my forwardness- your autocracy. A soft touch, as it were, to gentle the sharpness."
Jareth bit the inside of his lip. He endured the conversation in silence only because the masochistic side of himself couldn't stand not to flagellate himself with such a discussion while Sarah's photograph was so near to hand. He tormented himself with those few visions that he allowed himself to entertain of what their ideal life might have been like. And the other side of him let the Duke continue only because he couldn't believe how someone could hold such archaic views.
Females were not intended by nature to be locked up in the kitchen or the bedroom, waiting to be some use in breeding or housework. It was insulting to even think of such a thing! Some females were, it was true, happy to involve themselves with children and the household. There was nothing wrong with that. Jareth held a deep respect for those like Lady Harenet, who were born to be the quiet support of large families. But then there were others, like Sarah- like Jervohl!- who could not and would not be happy if their bodies were filled and their minds left empty.
The Duke was asking for a proper booting.
Jareth's control was slipping. When the Duke began to suggest possible candidates for him to mate with, he almost threw the paperweight in his hand. The gentle tap at the door was the only thing that broke the red haze.
"Come in," he yelled.
Toby came in with a perfectly innocent look of concern on his honest face. "Jareth, has something gone wrong? The Council awaits… oh. Forgive me, Duke. I did not see you."
Innocence be damned! From the wicked gleam in those blue eyes- and Jareth fancied he knew how to read those eyes better than anyone else in the room- Toby had probably stood outside the door and heard most of this ridiculous stupidity. For that, if nothing, Jareth's blood cooled. Toby must have been splitting his sides trying not to laugh out loud.
"Brat," he said cryptically, "Duke Bevil, if you could leave aside my unattached status for one moment, I shall endeavour to finish what I had originally intended to say. What I should have said, was that she has an offer of marriage from the King of the Outlawed Lands."
"WHAT?"
"Calm yourself, My Lord Duke. Toby, ring for some water. The Duke seems to be choking."
Toby obligingly pulled the bellpull and watched as Jareth patted the Duke on the back.
"What is the meaning of this?" the Duke whispered, agitated and purple in the face, "Marry an outlaw? It is madness! And what do you mean- the King of the Outlawed Lands? The outlaws have no King! It is why they are outlaws!"
"In point of fact, Gildred will declare himself King and consolidate the territories to a Kingdom," Jareth explained sweetly, still patting because he longed to let his hand fly and just thump the old fool a good one on the back of his fat head. "It is just a formality. Gildred has been King in all but name for many years now. He proposes to take Jervohl as his mate."
"Water, please," Toby murmured quietly, bending down to whisper in the ear of the goblin that had answered the summons, "The Duke has had a brief shock." The goblin nodded, bowed and ran away.
"This is an outrage," the Duke continued, wheezing, "She cannot marry him. That is my final verdict."
Toby frowned. "Forgive my intrusion, but I would think this a good match," he ventured.
"A good match? A good match?" The Duke was going purple again. "Young man, this is no such thing! Ms. Jervohl cannot allay herself with such- such a thief!"
"I was not aware that Gildred was a thief," Jareth pointed out pedantically, "His father was. His mother was a cheat. He was born there, a perfectly healthy- and seemingly moral- fae. Surely you cannot blame his parents' sins on him?"
"He is the leader of those thieves and cutthroats, Your Majesty. That makes him one by proxy. No. I shall not tolerate it. I will not give my consent to this."
Toby compressed his lips and kept out of it.
"If I am not mistaken, Gildred was elected to lead them because the Fortress- a power as strong as the Labyrinth- chose him to bear the powerstone."
"And he has proceeded to be a tyrant and a dictator, culpable of vicious deeds."
"To avoid even worse," Jareth sighed, "If you would like me to be perfectly truthful."
The Duke turned a burning gaze on him. "Are you condoning this?"
"I am. If she accepts his proposal- and I have reason to believe she might be persuaded- then I will not only see her married to Gildred, but I give my blessing to the union. If not for her, then for my country. Politically, there is unrest. We need to form a truce with the emerging Outlaw Kingdom, to avail ourselves of their assistance in such time as we need it."
"No one will accept it."
"Why not? Gildred is a personable fae. He professes love and respect for my sister. He offers to keep her in the luxury to which she is accustomed. And this match will mean certain advantages for the Underground."
"He is a corrupt influence!"
"As am I," Jareth interrupted. It was loud enough to halt any more babbling. "And yet," the Goblin King added, lowering his voice, "And yet you have just spent five minutes pushing innocent young females a century younger than I am into my arms and my bed. Your hypocrisy astounds me."
The Duke caught his breath. "I always knew you were heartless," he finally said, "But I was not prepared for this. To sell your own sweet sister, after all she has been through, back to that rogue and traitor. It is no wonder that the girl killed herself rather than accept you."
It was a cheap blow. To do him justice, the Duke was never this cruel. He was pompous and he was thick-skinned and he tended towards narrow-mindedness. But he was not cruel. It was a measure of how angry and disgusted he was that he even introduced such a convoluted insult.
Unfortunately, he was in a room where neither of the two males would let such a horrid thing pass.
Toby snatched up the male and slammed him hard against the wall of the study, seething in a fury at the dishonour done to his sister's memory. "One more word," he growled, "And I will make you eat your own tongue. My sister was no fool, My Lord Duke. And His Majesty, my guardian, is not one either. What happened between them happened. IF you have anything to say about it, I will invite you to say it to me. Then I may have the honour of ramming your stupidity down your bloody throat."
He dropped the Duke, scoffing openly as the wig slipped askew. He silently opened the door and the Duke fled, just one of the many that day that had done so.
Jareth was still leaning against his desk, breathing deeply and eyes closed as he concentrated. It was no good being angry. It was the wrong reason to allow the chaos to slip free. He kept his tongue and his temper, reasoning it out in his head until the anger faded quietly to a dull ache.
Toby's hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry," the mortal whispered, "It was wrong of him to say such a thing."
Jareth nodded and rested his head tiredly against a broad shoulder. It was easy to take comfort from Toby. If he pretended hard enough, he could pretend to see similarities between the two. When he finally lifted his head, he found Toby had picked up the photograph on his desk with one hand and was hungrily devouring it with his eyes.
"One day," the fae mentioned, "Remind me to tell you about her. For now we must attend Council. Gildred will attend by my side. Gonzo will take notes. I only need you to stop me killing anyone. Can you do that?"
"I can do that," Toby laughed, "If you can stop me strangling the Duke the next time I see him."
"A deal." Jareth couldn't resist just another two minutes of rest and since Toby didn't protest, he extended it by another minute again. But there was no point to stalling. And the more he thought about it, the more Jareth wanted to be at that Council. He wanted to see their faces when they heard the news and saw Gildred. He wanted to hear their usual objections to outlaws. He wanted the pleasure of ripping them all down to size, matching wits with some of the smartest minds in the Underground. And ultimately, he wanted to win this game.
"Come along," he sighed, "We can continue this later."
