Title:That's What Friends Are For
Author: Yodeladyhoo
Beta-ed by: Anij
Summary: A night in the life; meet the characters
Genre: Fantasy
Pairings: Jareth x Maurasoon ( OC )
Rating: T
disclaimer (dĭs-klā'mər): noun
1. (law) a voluntary repudiation of a person's legal claim to something
2. denial of any connection with or knowledge of
syn: disavowal
c.1986, 2006 The Jim Henson Company.
LABYRINTH is a trademark of The Jim Henson Company.
Labyrinth characters c.1986 Labyrinth Enterprises.
All rights reserved, but not by me.
All rights are reserved, but not by me. This short story is a work of fiction. All original characters in this story are fictional. Any similarities to actual persons, either living or deceased, are purely coincidental. Permission for the use of the non-original characters has not been requested by the author or granted by the licensor. This short story was written for your perusal and pleasure. No compensation, either financial or actual, has been collected or requested.
Maurasoon is mine.
Plea for Reason: I know there is a lot of character development in here that may not seem relevant at this time, but bear with me. These characters will come into play in future stories. You have to start somewhere and the beginning is better than most other places.
Jareth put down his utensils, lifted the monogrammed linen napkin and dabbed delicately at the corner of his mouth. "I leave for the castle beyond the Goblin City at dawn," he stated as he raised the crystal goblet to his lips. The light from the brightly burning candelabra sparkled in its many facets, reflecting in his eyes and casting amber shadows onto his silken alabaster shirt. It caused his dining companions to believe that the king was drinking liquid fire instead of fine elfin wine.
Devlin and Maurasoon glanced at one another from across the intimate table. They both expected this announcement for some time. Everyone was feeling out of sorts to some degree, those more in tune to the rhythms of the magickal miasma more so than others. Devlin could only imagine the turmoil Jareth would be feeling.
Jareth once tried to explain it to him as a tornado; the very fabric of the magickal atmosphere swirling itself into a vortex, creating a funnel cloud to the realm of Man. It tugged upon his very essence, forcing and directing the king into the vortex to the summoner. Once summoned, he could not return until an appeasement for the magick has been made, usually in the form of a life. As long as Jareth brought a life to the Underground, either in the present or the guarantee of one in the future, he could cross the mist once more. Magick is a harsh mistress, and none knew that better than the Goblin King.
Following suit, Devlin finished his meal. "Should I arrange for the adoption reception as usual?" Always with his mind on the details, Devlin thought there was no time like the present to start.
"Of course."
"The usual guest list?"
Maurasoon placed her goblet down just a tad too forcefully, causing the wine within the cut crystal bowl to careen precariously as she attempted to stifle her choking delicately behind her napkin. Both men looked askance to her, Jareth lifting an upswept eyebrow. She merely forced a smile and brushed off their looks with a wave of the cloth, saying that the wine went down the wrong way. Devlin knew better.
The standard guest list consisted of all the kings of Finias, of which the Goblin Kingdom was a part of, and their courts. This included the Earl of Beinn Mhór, Lord Domnall.
Lord Domnall was a brash man who was a firm believer in wine, women and song. There were many a night when he, Jareth, Lorgan and Domnall would stay up into the wee hours of the morning sampling some the finer vintages of their guest's lands to the south and not be able to appreciate their more subtle textures and bouquets. Devlin knew that his Majesty was more than willing to put his vineyards up against the better vineyards of the Earl's, and Jareth would sing with him until the beasts came back to the pasture. There were even many times that Jareth had allowed him his dalliances, except with one.
On more than one occasion, Devlin would see the two men in jovial conversation, until the King's smile would slide from his face, glance at Maurasoon, then harden to the Earl. His Majesty was very protective of what was his and would not force Maurasoon against her will. Both men felt a sibling kinship with Maurasoon and although she did not need sheltering, each did his share to deflect Domnall's attentions from her. Devlin made a mental note to be extra vigilant to the seating arrangements.
Returning his attention back to Devlin, Jareth drawled, "Yes. It will be good to see Chancellor Áengus again. Affairs at the Court have kept him away for far too long."
"Chancellor Áengus? He's been elevated?" Maurasoon, now recovered from her discomfort, asked with mild interest.
"For a few seasons, now." Jareth replied, swirling the ochre colored liquid in the glass before sipping it. "It would do you well to pay attention to the gossip that flies out of the mouths of those biddies."
Dropping her gaze into her lap, her hands busy with the occasion of placing the napkin there, Maurasoon responded demurely. "Oh, the only gossip I hear from them has been forwarded from the laundresses concerning how the Lord Secretary's bed sheets come back in the morning heavily perfumed with a woman's scent." She slyly looked up through her dark lashes to observe the results of her slander.
Having an olive complexion is wonderful protection from the sun's effects on pallid skin. It is also a good shield for pallor flush, which is what Devlin's skin would be showing right at this moment. The dangerous glints in the fathomless abysses that were his eyes revealed his temper. "Dearest Maura, I keep asking you to use less scent before our trysts."
It was Maurasoon's turn to narrow her eyes as she prepared to verbally defend herself against his retaliation. Her retort was cut short as Jareth stood, a graceful column of a man, the image of shades of white interrupted by the black leather vest and dark grey breeches that he wore. Clasping a fraternal hand onto Devlin's shoulder, he ended the argument that was brewing. "You shall give me all the details another time, my friends. I have an appointment with a saddle early tomorrow." He was grateful for his companions. These few people were the only ones with whom he had the opportunity to parry jocular witticisms with. The banter between these two could always divert his mind from the sobriety that seemed to overwhelm him on a daily basis.
They rose to pay their respect to their departing monarch. As soon as Jareth was out of the room and earshot, Maurasoon came around the table, her muslin dress rustling gently with her step, and slipped her hand underneath his jacketed elbow. "Chancellor Áengus? Isn't that a bit extravagant of the High King?" she queried, sotto voce.
He accepted her request. "Join me for a game?" He led her out of the private dining room towards the private lounge. In quieter tones, he answered her. "Perhaps. Who am I to second guess the actions of Dogda?"
"Dee!" Irritation colored her voice.
The King's personal wing was a grouping of rooms surrounding a spacious courtyard garden. The garden itself was laid out in a natural setting, using the indigenous wildflowers, bushes and saplings from the surrounding woods and meadows to fill its area. There were a few exotic plants interspersed in the garden, yet they were incorporated as to not draw attention to themselves. Conscientiously placed flowering trees and trellises allowed privacy between the rooms; a wooden staked barrier enclosed the King's private garden from the rest of the courtyard which could only be entered from his chamber. Found in the center of the King's Garden was a small, bubbling fountain that was the property of the naiads that populated it. Pink and white feathery blooms of a mimosa tree that grew along side of the fountain usually graced the surface of the water as they fell from their branches that would sway above it. All the rooms looked out onto the garden, yet the wing itself was sheltered within the fortressed walls of the formal halls of the Summer Pavilion where the King and his Court resided.
Devlin understood her concern even if he didn't share it. The newly appointed Chancellor always had access to the High King's ear. For Maurasoon and Lorgan, who were not versed on the duplicity of Court customs, Áengus seemed a threat; an agent of the High King looking for any weakness within the Goblin Realm. They were not privy to the long discussions he, Jareth and Áengus shared late into the night.
Although all three men disagreed on politics, they were intelligent to realize that they could amicably agree to disagree. The King respected the opinions of the newly appointed Chancellor and used the alternative viewpoint to either find the weaknesses in his own argument in order to strengthen them or to develop counterpoints to possible derision in the event someone should question the decree. For Áengus' part, having an ally outside of the High King's Court could provide very useful in the event of a stalemate argument. The Goblin King's very persuasive tones, both in the threatening and cajoling forms, was a powerful weapon in his arsenal.
As he led her down the subtly lit, polished stone hallway, Devlin mused to himself, "Now there's a man to admire!" Chancellor Áengus' parents were of a lower standing than his own, but an apprenticeship under a baron was enough clout to put him in the lower echelon of the political wheel. Manipulating the market to his baron's favor earned him the notice of the finance minister. It was rumored that the tithe to acquire Áengus from his master allowed the baron to retire and have a more laisssez-faire administration of his lands. Once under the tutelage of the finance minister, Áengus became a quick study in the politics of the High Court.
"What shall we play?"
Devlin hadn't realized that they had reached their destination. He looked down benevolently on Maurasoon's expectant face. The light from the sconces made her brown hair gleam with a richness that it lacked in the sunlight, picking out the reddish gold strands as well as the sparse grey ones. He knew that his own hair was changing, yet he was able to obscure it within his hairstyle. "Anything of your choosing, and I just might let you win!" Yes, the summons must be coming very soon. His mood was beginning to lift.
Maurasoon's generous mouth broke into a mischievous smile. By looking over her shoulder the entire time, she never relinquished her hold on his gaze as she crossed the room and reached for the lute.
Author's Note I've been asked about this and since this will be important in later stories, I thought it best to clarify it here.
In my interpretation of the Universe of the Underground, there are different levels of relationships between men and women. Maurasoon is Jareth's paramour (refer back to A Mother's Perspective, Chapter Four).
A paramour (from the French "with love") is a person, usually a woman, who is a friend to a man, usually, with whom she may or may not be sleeping with. Any children from this union, even if it is a boy, would never be eligible for support from the man; in essence, the child would be a bastard. The male version (where the woman is of higher social standing) would be called a dandy. Now, don't go and tell me that a dandy is nothing more than a man who is too much into his clothes. Yes, he's that, also. My reference is directly from The Scarlet Pimpernel.
A concubine is a woman that is a sexual toy for a man, who is usually married, but not necessarily so. A man could have many concubines at one time, provided that he can support them and their children. Any children from such a union would be able to claim the man as his father. The masculine version is a concubinus.
A mistress is similar to a concubine, except she would have a better social standing. Usually, a man would only have one mistress at a time. The only places in literature where I've encounter a male version is the film version of Breakfast at Tiffany's and the Broadway production of Sunset Boulevard. Both of those male characters were kept men.
A consort could be a man or a woman (an unmarried woman of society could have a consort or a male escort to whom she is not married to) to whom the person who is supporting the consort is not married (but could be, in some instances. A spouse could be called a consort) to but holds the consort in high regard. A consort could produce an heir to the throne, provided that the wife did not have a male child, but could never be a regent themselves.
A wife, well we know that one, don't we? The wife is the top of the hierarchy; any children from the marriage would supersede the other relationships, except by gender. For example, a younger boy from a mistress would be heir before an older daughter from the wife, but only second in line if there is an older boy from a concubine. The difference between a married consort and a spouse is one of diplomacy. You might need to marry someone due to politics, but your consort is your heart's desire.
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