Authors' Note: Thank you for all the reviews! It really does help. Sometimes we don't know if we're hitting the mark, or boring you senseless. Both coauthors appreciate hearing from you all.
And now, let Sarah meet Jareth's father. It won't go as expected. :)
…
King Deruthiel of Etaron was thoroughly disgruntled. His queen had gone on ahead to the wretched goblin kingdom, despite his protests – though when did she ever obey him? And now he found himself at the gates of Umardelin, and despite his disgust for goblin-kind and his dismay at his son's general fecklessness, he had the poor taste to be impressed.
Raw magic pulsed strongly in the Labyrinth, waiting for talented hands to shape and direct it. It was the kind of power that Della could have wielded, had Umardelin been hers. Unfortunately, the High King had known precisely what he was doing, cursing Jareth to rule here. No kingdom would tamely permit a foreign king or queen to wield its power, and Umardelin least of all. It was called the Unmastered for a reason, and even the High King's curse had left Jareth scrambling to win this land's loyalty. While Della had visited their son – briefly, for their own kingdom needed her – she could not save him from his fate. Nor could Iswyniel have come here and freed him. Even though the sorceress-queen might have been powerful enough to bend Umardelin to her will, Astolwyr would have rejected her for doing so, as was the way of kingdoms. And Iswyniel would not directly defy the High King like that. Not to mention, she thought Jareth had brought this on himself, and had said so.
She'd also said that the boy must have gotten his sheer stupid bravado from Deruthiel, but Thiel had pretended not to hear. He wasn't foolish enough to defy the High King; Jareth got his recklessness from Della. He also wasn't suicidal enough to try telling Iswyniel that. So far as he knew, the only soft spots in the fierce queen's heart were for her husband, and her darling daughter.
Della knew, though, and blamed herself. Both for spoiling the boy, and for her sense of mischief that he had inherited. To her alone, Thiel would admit that his character had contributed, a certain degree of rowdy boyish posturing among friends having been part of his own history. He had not stopped her from spoiling Jareth, but then, what fae children were not spoilt? They were rare, and much cherished. The few fae parents who did not treasure their children were the stuff of nightmares.
Enough of history; he had the present to worry about. He had brought the minimum amount of guards and retainers, all of them shifting nervously about on their horses behind him. There was a short slope to the Labyrinth itself, and far away, the castle reared up to the sky. From here, Thiel could see how daunting that maze was, and wondered that any mortal dared it.
"Sire?" his valet asked. "Must we traverse it?"
"I hope not," Thiel said, without much confidence. "We are expected. Surely there is a way for welcome guests to bypass the usual security measures." Still, it was called The Unmastered. Who knew what Jareth had to do to get them in?
Just as he was wondering where his lady wife had gone, Thiel spotted a slow arc of flight that he knew well. Two owls, this time, not just the one that was Della. He managed not to frown; it would look shabby if Jareth himself had to flap out alone to meet them. No matter what he thought of Umardelin, he didn't wish for his son to look a fool.
Then the guards rattled their spears suddenly, forming close ranks. Thiel snapped an order to hold, startled as they were. A legion of goblins had sprung up seemingly out of the very ground, and thank all the gods they were unarmed – though their iron armor would be weapon enough, if they flung themselves at his people. A disquieting number of toothy grins were aimed his way, and Thiel held his place, arching an up-swept brow at them.
"Welcome, Etaron!" rang out a ragged chorus, and Jareth himself landed just in the middle of them. He opened his arms in welcome, and Thiel felt talons touch his shoulder lightly as Della landed on him.
The king of Etaron knew what was expected of him. He dismounted, and gave a short bow. "Greetings, King of Umardelin," he said in formal tones. "I and mine have come by invitation, to witness the coronation of your queen. May we enter?"
"You are welcome, King of Etaron, as are your people," Jareth said, with an easy confidence that was leagues away from the brash, cocky demeanor Thiel remembered – or the near panic he must have felt, arriving here and finding the land hostile to him. "It is an honor to host you. The way shall open before your feet. You have only to follow the path."
Even as he spoke, the gates below opened, and a red carpet rolled out. The goblins hopped to the side, and the moving carpet stopped just in front of Thiel's boots. Meanwhile, Jareth stepped forward. "Welcome, Father," he said, much more quietly.
Thiel looked at his only child, and all the frustrations and fears of parenthood ran through his mind in a flash. To hell with it, some things are more important than etiquette. "I've missed you, son," he said, and wrapped his arms around the boy in a tight hug.
Jareth hugged him back for a long moment, both of them making sure they had their emotions and expressions under control before they stepped back. Della, her perch disturbed, twittered at them, and Thiel glared at her. "You obstreperous wench," he said in affectionate tones. "I suppose you've already checked out our suite, made friends with the kitchen staff, and advised the poor boy on what he should wear to the coronation?"
She flapped off his shoulder to hover over her own mount, which he had led the last few hours. Della changed in midair, dropping an inch or two into the saddle in a way that made every man watching wince. "And met his Sarah, too. You will adore her. She seems to have about as much patience for foolishness as you do, my Thief-King. But you must meet her later; she is at work."
That raised his brows a little more, but Jareth only shrugged. "She is a woman grown, Father. It is only to be expected that she have a career. And being Sarah, it is not something she can lightly abandon."
"We have an extra horse," Thiel said. "Ride with me, and tell me of your bride's career as we make our way to the castle. Unless you need to arrive ahead of us…?"
"I trust my staff to make things ready," Jareth said, and at Thiel's disbelieving look, he scolded, "They are not all goblins, Father. As for Sarah's career, you will be amused. She is a savior of wayward children…"
…
Sarah managed to finish out the last of her paperwork, reminded Amy to water the plant at her desk, and hurried home. By now, Jareth was probably tearing his hair out – he had been subtly nervous about his parents' visit, and Cadelinyth's unexpected arrival had likely only worsened that. He'd said his father was gruff, so Sarah prepared herself to defuse an angry scene between two stubborn men.
She touched the key at her neck and stepped through the mirror, calling a gown to clothe her as she arrived in her own rooms. Work clothes likely wouldn't impress the fae, but this formal gown in deep emerald was much more queenly. Matching slippers replaced her shoes, and she took a moment to slip a pair of jeweled combs into her hair, gathering it up into a more formal style.
Sarah heard muted noise from the dining hall below, and fearing the worst, she hiked her skirts and ran lightly down the stairs. The scene that met her eyes, however, was far from what she could've imagined.
The official party from Etaron had arrived, which meant two dozen or so fae. They all ranged about the hall, nearing the end of a grand feast, the bones of which were being cleared from the tables. Apparently a large quantity of wine had been consumed, for a handful of guards were singing along with the castle bard, though slightly off-key.
Jareth himself was slung sideways in his seat, grinning happily. When he saw Sarah, that smile widened, and he gestured toward her. Magic swept her up, depositing her in his lap, and he purred delight in her ear. "Really?!" Sarah squeaked.
"Hello, love," he said, his gaze warm and slightly fuzzy. "I am very drunk. Would you like to join me?"
"Jareth, what the hell?" Sarah managed to say.
He blinked at her, and then seemed to remember something. "Oh! You should meet my father." Jareth waved a hand at the tall, bearded man sitting in the next seat down, who raised his glass to her. There wasn't much resemblance between them, for Deruthiel was dark where Jareth was fair, but the eyebrows were the same. And the stubborn line of the jaw. "Sarah, this is my father, Deruthiel of Etaron. Father, this is Sarah. There, introductions made. Page! A glass for my queen!"
Deruthiel tipped his glass toward Sarah. "A pleasure to meet you, my lady," he said. "With luck I may even remember this meeting tomorrow. I am also, quite drunk."
"So I gathered," Sarah laughed. "Jareth, let me up. This is the first time in fifteen years I've seen you drunk."
"It's the first time in a very long time that he's been able to get drunk with his own people," Della said, leaning across her husband. "Pity these men, Sarah, they cannot hold their liquor as well as we can."
"I think you are pouring your drinks into your boot," Deruthiel opined.
"Impossible, my love," she teased. "I'm not wearing shoes of any sort."
He reared back and stared at her. "Barefoot, here? Do you know where we are, woman?"
"Mind your tongue," Jareth scolded. "I make them sweep. Besides, Sarah chased the chickens out of the throne room."
"You had chickens in your throne room? Son, you dismay me." Cadelinyth shook her head, then addressed Sarah. "At least he comes by it honestly. I had to convince this one that his favorite hunting dog could no longer sleep at the foot of our bed. The animal reeked. Do you know, mortal dog breeders have a specific word for that scent? Hound funk. Trust me, Sarah, you are lucky not to have experienced it."
"You haven't met the vulture that's nesting in his crown," Sarah said darkly. Just then, the page arrived with a glass of wine – and a plate, which Beldych had kindly saved for her.
Sarah hadn't eaten since lunch, and tried to stand up and move to her own chair. Jareth, however, tightened his arm around her, and she growled at him. "Let me go, Jareth. I'm not your lap ornament."
She'd pitched her voice low, but Della heard her, and laughed. "Sarah, darling, you're thinking of it the wrong way. He's not making an ornament of you; you're making furniture of him. We must keep these men in their place."
"Are you saying I'm only fit for furniture?" Deruthiel asked imperiously.
Della leaned more heavily on him, and favored him with a sweet smile. "Are you arguing with being furniture, my love?"
Meanwhile Sarah won her freedom by applying her elbow to Jareth's side, and he pouted at her as she pulled up her own chair and set about devouring dinner with all the decorum she could manage. As Jareth continued to look mournful, Sarah shook her head at him. "This isn't some silly romance story, Jareth. You don't get to win the girl and then keep her on your lap like some kind of trophy."
"It will be a story, or a song at least, before the year is out," he informed her, his words only a little slurred. "That is a fae habit, my Sarah, making ballads out of people's lives. And you and I surely have drama enough for a few songs."
She stopped with her wine glass in hand and stared at him. "I've been gone for what, ten hours? Which is six down here? How are you this drunk?"
"I'm not that drunk," Jareth said, though he looked and sounded it as he leaned toward her. "And you're trying to divert attention from the possibility of a ballad cycle based on The Champion of the Labyrinth: Or, How the Goblin Queen Got Her Crown."
Sarah could only shake her head at him, but at that moment, the bard came to the end of his set and asked for requests. Della sat up from where she had been whispering in Deruthiel's ear, and called out, "If I might ask a favor, troubadour? Do you know 'The Princess and the Thief-King'?"
Deruthiel scoffed at that. "In my lands, it's called 'King Deruthiel and the Owl's Daughter'."
Della only preened. "Either way, it's the ballad of me. I'd be ever so honored if you sang it." Sarah cut a quick look at Jareth, who shrugged. It was suddenly clear from whence his arrogance came. At least on Della, it was charming.
The bard claimed that every minstrel knew that tune, and Deruthiel's men cheered as he strummed the opening bars. The king himself rolled his eyes, turning to Sarah. "Have you heard the song of the Sorceress-Queen of Astolwyr and her owl?"
"I have," she replied, not mentioning where or when. "Della's parents. Jareth wouldn't tell me your story, though. He said I'd best hear it from you. Although he did mention something about a kidnapping…?" She was still having trouble reconciling a stolen bride with the very happy couple in front of her.
He quaffed the rest of his wine. "Well, the short version is this. Her mother was keeping all the suitors out of Astolwyr, so I planned to kidnap myself a beautiful, talented, pliable young woman to be my bride. And when I actually caught her, I ended up with this." Even as he said it, he looped his arm around Della's waist and tugged her affectionately closer. She laughed, and kissed him, as the bard struck up his tune.
