Chapter 5. Jareth Tuatha Dé Danann Huukec Mec, Warrior King

Aello had scoffed at and torn up the invitation from the castle beyond the Goblin City. She had long called he who sat upon the throne a pompous pampered pretender. She was slightly insulted that it had taken him so long to acknowledge her, and so she was now ready to dismiss him. Aello was far older than the Fae King, and saw herself as more worthy of the throne. However as the High King held more power, she accepted or at least tolerated the indignity of being a subject to one she felt was her inferior. She was a proud woman, leader of a proud clan, albeit small, and arrogantly she chose to ignore the 'pretenders' invitation.

More and more her once raven plumage was turning white, and her talons were showing little knots of gnarly tissue forming. She was getting old, and soon she would have to pass her role on to one of the younger females. Her once sharp teeth were beginning to twist and turn, some had even lost there points. Her wings had long since felt the wind beneath them, and her legs had begun to show tremors. She had seen death in the distance, awaiting her. She didn't fear death for herself, but for her people. Once the skies over the Goblin Realm was black with their wings, now only a handful of their race remained. The SheelanaGigs Clan would suffer she feared once she was gone, and that fate occupied her mind far more than the pretty little Fae King.

The Clan had made its nesting in the honeycomb of caves in the hills above the western ridge of the Labyrinth. Once they had hunted freely, within and without the boarders. But after the last great true Goblin King, they had been forced to live off the scavenging of others. It had been degrading, and demoralizing, and worse it had caused them to lose members who found they could not live the tame life that was being enforced upon them. It was now down to the bear bones, and only a few of the females were even still breed-able, if they could find something worth mating with. Aello stepped slower now, it hurt to move too fast, and she knew her time was limited. The hard hand hewed caves were almost too painful for her to move over, and her wings were as useful as those of a clipped swan, beautiful to look at, but useless all the same.

"Mother," her eldest daughter stood looking at her with worry.

Aello gazed at the female who should be getting ready to take over the clan and instead was at this moment playing nurse made to the ailing Mother. Iris was the image of a warrior Queen, lean and fit. Her body was built for speed and her wing span amazing. Aello knew the younger female had taken to flying at night, and raiding unsuspecting boarder trespassers. She didn't scold, for the fresh meat kept the clan alive. Isis had eyes like a hawk, and her wings were dark as night. She wore only a shift here in the caves, but Aello knew she would fly naked, not wishing anything to get tangled in or with anything. "I'm alright Iris." She muttered a bit gruffly, her bitterness spilling into her tone.

Iris shook her head, knowing better. "You've not fed," she held out her hand, it contained a fresh heart and a lung from Gods knows what creature. "You must feed."

Aello turned away, not able to even look at the food offered. It was humiliating and shameful to that she now had to rely on hand outs to feed upon. She, who had once been a fierce huntress in her own right, was now a charity case.

Iris lowered the offerings, wishing she had the heart to end her mother's suffering. "I think you're wrong Mother." She stated looking at the shadow of her mother moving in the cave.

The Clan leader turned her dark eyes quizzical. "Do you? He is nothing, a pretender! He's a Fae… what interest should I have in anything they say…it is because of them we… parish." Gathering the tattered material she wore about her thinning body, she challenged. "What would you have done, Iris?"

The younger Harpy didn't back down, she stood the ground as she'd been taught back in an age when Harpies were feared and respected. "I'd have heard him out, Mother. What can it hurt to hear what he has to say?"

The old Harpy growled under her breath and limped off to a corner to think. The sun was sinking behind the hills and soon it would be night. The Goblin pretender would realize he'd been snubbed. She took a long ragged breath, smiling to herself. At least she could still hold onto her pride.

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Devon arrived at the King's private study expecting to find him pouring over more of the texts that Lutin had supplied him with. Jareth was not however, he was lounging in a chair seemingly looking off into space. "What are you doing?" Devon asked as he took a seat near the fire.

"Thinking on a problem," the Goblin King stated; "How to keep the Harpies in line."

"Whips and chains," his amused cousin suggested grinning broadly.

Jareth gave the suggestion a moment to sink in but discarded it just as quickly as it had been offered. "I'm serious Dev; I need them to… tow the line, as it were." His exasperation was beginning to show. "I need them," he muttered to himself.

"You've got a reason for being so worried about how Harpies behave?" Devon

Jareth lowered his new dragon hide boots to the floor, standing to pace as it helped him think. "I'm ready to speak to the High King," he murmured. "It's time for the Kingdom to come back into its own; I've chosen Solstice as our day of declaration."

Knowing how much work his cousin had poured into amassing the information he'd been studying for the last few weeks, Devon was not surprised to hear of the intentions. "What do Harpies have to do with any of this?"

Jareth turned to the other, his face schooled in what he knew was a dignified and aristocratic expression he answered with a new tone in his voice. "I intend to have Harpies in my personal guard when we present ourselves to the High Court."

Once more Devon was glad he had nothing in his mouth. In the past eight weeks his cousin had surprised him to the point of choking once on a cherry pit. "I see."

"No, you don't," sighed the Goblin King resigned that he alone was aware of the measures necessary to unite his unique kingdom. He motioned the newly appointed Lord Baron over to the desk and pointed to some pages with what looked to be family trees. They were in fact the hierarchy of the Goblin Kingdom. "Harpies once ranked very high in the courts of Zoltarie. It is written that one of his advisors was the Harpy Matron."

"The mother of the clan that remains here," Devon asked looking over the charts seeing more than he was intending to see.

"Aello, the present clan leader is her direct descendant," Jareth nodded. "While she's been less than respectful of me and she does not completely trust me or my motives."

"Should she?"

A wisp of a smile moved across the lips of the King; "Of course not, I'm a Fae, there's little likely hood of me changing, is there now?" He spread another chart. "This is the most recent census, clans, clan leaders and so forth. I want two representatives from each of the higher clans in my royal procession."

Devon let a long whistle sound as he looked at the chart. "Cousin, that's unheard of… you've got Hobgoblins and Harpies and Glashtins… Harpies have been known to eat them you know!"

"Hence my turmoil," Jareth unbuttoned the tight vest he was sporting. "I've a meeting set up this evening with Aello to discuss a mutual accord."

"What's in it for the Harpies?" Devon asked taking a light seat on the edge of the desk.

"A voice," Jareth muttered.

Devon shook his head, "I don't see this as viable." He warned sharply. "So far none of the Fae who dwell here has voiced opposition to your new ways. However, allowing lower forms such as Harpies a voice in the running…."

"They have more right to a voice than the Fae do," corrected the young King ill-temperedly. "They and the Goblin races were here long before the High King claimed this place."

"Jareth," Devon's voice was low and reasoning. "Don't forget you're a Fae."

"I am the Goblin King, Devon." He stated crossing his arms, acting more like a King than he'd ever had. "I am not just a Fae, nor am I just one of the High King's Royals… I am the Goblin King… I never gave much credence to this title before. I've whined and thrown temper tantrums and bewailed my misfortune…I played… but I'm not playing anymore. Uncovering the walls of this castle under the grime we Fae allowed to accumulate awoke something in me… a sense of pride in this… My Kingdom."

"Pride goeth before a fall," warned his cousin lightly.

"Which is why I have to impress upon Aello the importance of cooperation," the King took a seat behind the desk. "You read the texts I've read. Did I miss something? How was it Zoltarie was able keep all the lines in place and thriving?"

"Why Zoltarie cousin? Why use him as the example on which you base your reign?" Devon challenged softly. "The first Fae King was not so bad, he held the Kingdom in peace…"

"He was the beginning of its dismantling," Jareth spat bitterly. "Devon because of the Fae interference we've nearly lost the essence of what the Goblin Kingdom was and should be. Look at the censuses from the days of Zoltarie and then compare them with each of the Fae Kings that follow. The only time they didn't decrease is when I took the throne… but they have not increased… and the Goblins are looked upon with scorn by the other Underground Kingdoms."

Jareth moved toward the window that was a depiction of the great Goblin Age. "Zoltarie held the Kingdom, and was respected, even by the Fae High King. During his time the Kingdom flourished, and that's what I want…" He looked back to Devon. "To achieve what I have in mind, I must get cooperation from all the clans and races that live under my rule. Starting with the Harpies."

Devon mused quietly to himself, "You could use the tactic that Zoltarie used, dress in a Harpy wing feather cloak."

Jareth moved closer. "What did you just say?"

Looking up, confused the other Fae shook his head. "I don't know, what did I say?"

"A Harpy wing feather cloak?" Jareth asked.

Devon nodded and pointed to one of the scrolls, "I read that in there."

Returning to the desk Jareth reached for the scroll, unrolled it and read carefully. "How did I miss this?" he asked as he went over the text. "This is bloody brilliant, I wonder if the cloak still exists?" He rang for his house Steward, when the man was standing before him he asked; "The belongings of Zoltarie, where are they stored?"

Philo, like Lutin was of Hobgoblin descent, and his family had served in the castle for generations. "They in the reserves vaults, Sire. A series of vaults kept in the lower bowls' of the palace. We store all artifacts from each reign there, unless they are in use."

Jareth's eyes were lit with excitement. "Show them to me Philo, the ones that were for Zoltarie."

Devon protested, "Jareth you don't have time to be looking at storage rooms… you've a meeting with the Harpy Matron, remember?"

Jareth waved a hand at him, "I know, but I doubt that she means to keep the meeting…" He turned to Philo, "I need to bring that bird to attention do you think Zoltarie's cache contains items that would help?"

Grinning like only a Goblin could, Philo nodded, "I do believe so, my King." He bowed deeply. "I'd be most honored to show your Majesty the way."

"Come Devon," shouted Jareth as he followed the steward; "We've a reception to plan."

Wincing as he followed, Devon muttered under his breath. "What have I gotten myself into?"

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Iris could feel the approach of two others and she knew they too were worried about the Matron, the mother of the Nest. "Speak," she commanded sounding as regal as her mother had once been.

"Lady Iris," one of the younger females whispered. "She is wasting away, she would not wish this."

Iris shrugged. "I'm aware, Sadeka."

The second Harpy was a bit older, and she placed a hand on Iris's shoulder. "Sister, we fear the end of our age is near."

"Matron is aware." Iris stated and turned to the one who had placed her hand on her. "Delia, gather the breeding females…. I will speak to them."

Sadeka looked toward the place where the matron sat gazing at the now lowered sun. "And what of her?"

Iris pulled her wings in tightly, drew up to her full height. "The Matron will understand." She said it with confidence she didn't feel, and prepared to turn.

The chamber of the cavern was filled unexpectedly and quite abruptly with a roar of sound that shook the very foundations of the hills they were nestled in. A burst of light was the next manifestation, overflowing blinding them all as the younger females put up their arms to protect their eyes. The Matron stood up, her mouth opened to sound an alarm or give an order and she was gone. Iris had seen her vanish and then the light too was gone and the sound died down.

Sadeka rushed to where the Matron had stood, "Where is the Matron?" she demanded in what came out like a crows caw.

Iris moved forward with resignation. "She's been called to the King." She bent down and picked up a single item from the floor, a tiny perfectly formed crystal bird. She showed it to the others. "Call the clan together," she said. "We will know soon if we are to live, or to die."

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Aello had not expected the manifestation of power that had pulled her from the safety of her nesting caverns. Nor had she expected to be deposited in the heart of a golden cell. However that is where she found herself, in what to all intents and purposes looked just like a golden bird cage hanging from the rotunda ceiling in the circular throne room of the Goblin Palace. She was perched upon a contraption that looked very much like a bird swing. Once she able to get her bearings, she turned to glare at the being she was sure was responsible for this affront. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the throne, expecting to see the pretender, dressed like a dandy. But that was not what she saw or why she gasped in startled astonishment and disbelieve.

Jareth sat in the Goblin throne, dressed in black Goblin Leather armor, and was draped in a cloak that was clearly the wing feathers of Harpies. "Kind of you to join me," He greeted the Matron.

His face was not as she remembered it; it was no longer boyish or foolish. It was the face of a man who had tasted something bitter, and that made him dangerous. "How dare you." She tried to growl but it came out a screech.

On either side of the King stood a large and brutal appearing Goblin of the warrior ranks, armed to the teeth and edgy. No longer did they appear foolish or slovenly, they had the look of hunger upon their faces. Jareth was unaffected by her outburst. "I was sure you'd find your accommodations," he paused looking for the right word. "Satisfactory."

Aello glared at the boy, but kept still on the perch to keep her balance. "What do you want, Fae King?"

"Goblin King," he corrected as he leaned back in the great ivory toped throne. "Goblin King, Lady Aello."

She scoffed and it came out like a caw. "You have no idea of what a Goblin King really is, fairy boy." She placed a hand on one of the chains holding the perch she was seat upon. "I've see your kind come and go…"

"You've never seen anything like me," he corrected her swiftly in a voice that shook the room. One of the Goblins standing at his side gave a low rumble in agreement.

Devon stood up in the gallery, watching. He had not wanted to be on the main floor, nor had he been invited to be. Jareth needed to present a clear picture of himself as a Goblin to the Matron, and having a Fae beside him would not do that. He felt a bit pushed aside, but chose to watch from the gallery where he was near at hand should his cousin need him.

The Matron paused, cocked her head to one side and without admitting anything showed that she was not prepared for this change of events. "What is it you want from me and mine, Goblin King?" She was working hard at hiding the tremors that were now racking her body.

"Your dying," Jareth said coldly.

"Anyone can see that," Aello rasped.

Jareth stood up, "Your race, not just you… When was the last time you fed?" He demanded.

"It has been… a while." The Matron conceded. Bitterly she turned her anger and humiliation on the King. "Your kind has kept us from freely feeding… and now… we suffer for it…I…have done what I could…"

"The Fae rules were wrong," Jareth growled darkly. "Wrong for the Goblin, wrong for the Harpy and for many others…. And they are wrong for me. I mean to change all that." He stood up and addressed the Matron. "I'm offing you life."

She looked at the cage, and scorned his offer; "As a kept bird in gilded cage? No thank you, Fairy boy."

Smiling he waved a hand, the cage dissolved and she was seated in a golden chair on the main floor. He seated himself and continued. "I've no need of songbirds, Matron. I need Harpies… in full health."

Intrigued the Matron gave him her attention. "What need?"

"I'm rebuilding the Kingdom, and I mean for the Harpy SheelanaGigs Clan to take its rightful place once more." Jareth stated as if it were obvious.

"I'm too old and tired for pipe dreams," Aello sighed. "As you've observed, I'm dying."

"You wish your clan to die as well?" Jareth challenged leaning on one knee.

"Our fate is sealed," she sighed darkly. "Neither I nor you can change that Fairy Boy."

Jareth shook his head, "I'd have thought you'd have wanted one last chance for your children, I see I was wrong… or I plucked the wrong bird from the skies."

Insulted the old one unfurled her wings and with great effort spread them their full span. "You dare speak to me that way? I am far older than you, you prancing fop! I was a great warrior when you were in swaddling rags." She winced at the pain but kept her wings open wide.

Jareth raised a brow, "I'm impressed." He teased. "Now let's stop toying with each other old woman." He snapped his fingers and a servant brought a cup to the Matron. "Drink old one, it will nourish you."

Raising the goblet to her lips she sniffed, it was hot, fresh and bloody. "If this is my death…" she murmured.

"Hardly a fitting death for a great Matron and a warrior," Jareth accepted a goblet brought to him. "You've not fed, and it shows." He said sadly.

"Whose fault would that be?" she placed the cup to her lips and drank deeply of the warm brew. It went down and was welcomed by her inners. But she could not hold her wings up, nor hide the tremors that were now wracking her.

Jareth placed his cup down, "Matron, it is time you stepped down." He said sadly.

Aello's dark eyes closed and she nodded. "Past time," she admitted to the King.

"I will be sad to lose you," he assured her; "However neither you nor I, nor the SheelanaGigs Clan, can ill afford sentiment at this time." Jareth addressed her boldly. "Have you chosen a successor?"

"Iris, my eldest daughter should have succeeded me." The warmth of the brew gave her a bit of strength and she held her head high.

"I will call her to us, now…" he drew a crystal from the air and turned to the Matron gave her the only concession he could respectfully, "With your permission?" The once proud leader of the clan nodded. Jareth sent the bubble off and waited. "I regret it took me so long to see the truth, Matron."

"Do you see the truth now, Goblin fledgling?" she asked sipping the brew again. "Blood will be on your hands after this day, some of it my own."

"Had I been older and wiser," Jareth leaned heavily on his knees; "Perhaps I'd have opened my eyes before this… I was young and brash, and thought myself above it all… I longed for things that were right under my nose."

Aello sighed, "You may make a good king after all….Fairy boy."

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The clan met in the central chamber, Iris took a deep breath before informing the remaining members that her mother had been taken by the Goblin King. "We will know soon what he intends." She stated resigned to what ever fate awaited them.

"This is not right," protested one of her younger sisters. "To have to wait for the slaughter…"

"We do not know that is what awaits us," cautioned the elder.

Sadeka agreed with the younger Harpy. "What else could it be?"

Before the elder could answer a crystal bubble came floating into the cavern and the Goblin Kings voice was heard. "Lady Iris, your presence is required in the Goblin Castle. I suggest you bring an honor guard."

Sadeka growled as she scowled. "Who is he to make such a demand?"

Iris turned to her with a smile, "King." She snapped her fingers Delia, gather my guards… we go to pay a call on our… King."

Sadeka opened her wings wide. "I demand the right to face this… King."

Iris laughed at her, "With what?"

Delia chose six of the best and most fit females left. "I wish we had something better than rags to wear." She lamented.

Talons gripped what was left of the shift that had served the elder as a garment. She rendered it a rag that was useless and stood in naked glory. "I go as a Harpy, not a pet." Somewhere in the back of her mind, the young woman knew what was ahead of her. "Delia, you are in charge of the nesting, keep the young ones from following."

Delia shook her head and gathered the remainder of the females into the central chamber. Iris led the rest to the cavern opening. "Disrobe; we go as proud Harpies to face the fates." She looked at the sky with longing. "Once our numbers filled the skies and cast a mighty shadow…" She opened her wings and rose into the air, followed by her honor guard.

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Goblins were slowly filing into the throne room, as if called by some silent alert. Jareth noticed there were many different class and breed of Goblin coming into the chamber. He had never spent much time before taking notice of how many clans or breeds dwelled in his Kingdom. He had been lax and it had cost them all, now he would begin the rebuilding of the Kingdom, and he would be far more diligent.

Aello sat proudly, waiting. She too noticed the gathering forces, no witnesses. She had read of such events, but with the winds of change had never hoped or dreamed that she's be participating in such and event. The death she'd envisioned was far less glorious, and this made her shiver with delight and anticipation. How odd it was, she mused that her final hours would be so glorious due to a Fae.

The sounds of wings on the wind filled the chamber, as seven winged creatures entered. Jareth was not surprised that they appeared naked, he was only saddened at how ill fed they appeared. For that he blamed himself, but would not discuss it with them or any other. He watched as the leader, the one called Iris approached.

"I am Iris, SheelanaGigs Clan's heir," the female spoke clearly. "You've something that belongs to me oh King."

Jareth was pleased; this one seemed to understand the greater meaning of this meeting. "I hold your title," he pointed to the old Harpy seated before him. "Are you ready to take it?"

Iris had fed; she'd kept the clan alive for the last fifty years, but had not yet bred. She looked at what was left of her mother and felt more than pity. "I am," her wings opened wide. The other Harpies who had come with her were aware of what was about to take place; although none of them had ever witnessed the ascent of a Matron. They formed a perimeter, as their wing tips touched. Within the circle of wings stood the young woman and her mother squaring off, for a fight to the death.

Jareth saw Devon still watching in the gallery, he could not allow interference and announced. "As it was in the dawn of time, as it will be again, without intervention or Fae meddling and intrusion. Let blood decide." He took the Goblin staff that was now part of his throne and brought it down on the tile floor.

Aello removed what was left of her ragish garment. Her ribs shown as one who was starving themselves to death, and there was little muscle tone left. Setting her jaw, she turned to her daughter and warned; "Show me no pity, for I will show you none." She stretched out one talon as far as she could. Though it was not as lethal as her daughter's, it could still do damage.

"You taught me well, old one." The younger Harpy reminded her mother as she attacked. For the sake of pride, she allowed her mother one strike before she administered the fatal blow. As her mother went down, Iris fell upon her and drank deeply of her blood. The other Harpies stood watching, blood lust in their eyes. The new Matron rose, and ordered them to drink of the fallen. They each drank and bloodied their talons in the remains of the old Matron. Iris then lifted the lifeless carcass to remove her mother's wings. Rising she moved toward the throne and lay them at the feet of the King. Her eyes flashed fire and ice, "I am Matron," she claimed. "What does the Goblin Throne want of us?"

Looking down at the bloodied wings Jareth knew there could be no going back now. "I offer you life, Matron Iris."

"Life?" She asked not sure she understood him.

"The passing of the old Matron should not also mean the passing of the SheelanaGigs Clan. Your numbers have dwindled, and your hens do not breed."

"Your…" she began then pausing changed her mind. "The Fae's who came before the Goblin who sits upon the throne, limited our access to feeding and breeding."

"That was a mistake," Jareth stated hotly. "I won't repeat it."

Iris still covered in blood smiled. "I should like to know what you intend." She pointed to her mother's wings. "The old one didn't want to hear you out…death was too close for her to hear properly. I should like to preserve what is left of my clan."

Jareth pushed his cloak back over his shoulder. "I've read the accord that was in place during the time of Zoltarie. I offer you the same as he," Jareth growled darkly; "And a chance to breed again."

Iris gave him a wicked smile, "I wonder how well you read the accord."

"My boarders are being breached," he snapped as his fist closed. "Our Kingdom is plundered and jeered at. I'll have no more of it. You and your clan are free to feed on what ever does not have rights to enter our boarders. I include the marauding nomads, and you are free to mate with whatever catches your attention."

"Are you familiar with our breeding habits?" Iris looked at him with honest eyes and a wistful smile. "They are considered by some to be… brutal."

Jareth gazed at the sinewy woman; her hips were covered in a soft downy feathery substance that dipped toward what was obviously pubic hair, although it looked more like coarse dark feathers. He let his eyes rest on her firm and well shaped breasts that she didn't hid from his view. "Hence the reason I'm not offering my own services to your clan." He leered openly at the new Matron.

Letting her head fall back she laughed as she'd not done in many years. "I like you, bold one!" She brought her head back, looking into the eyes of her King, then let them travel down to his codpiece, "I wouldn't mind letting you live."

Wickedly the King winked at the lusty female; "Let's not put that to the test." He leaned back knowing his manliness was arousing more than just the Matron.

"We get feeding and breeding rights," cooed the elder thinking with a gleam. "What do you get?"

"The strength of my Kingdom back as it should be, and your voice on issues…" He moved his leg side to side enticingly. "Also four of your best females as my honor guard."

Devon nearly dropped over the rail, "Four?" he muttered.

Not bothering to look toward his cousin, Jareth ignored the quiet outburst, knowing that the Matron would also ignore it.

Iris gave it thought, "I've four who are not ready to breed, but who could be good warriors until they are. Would they do for what you have in mind?"

"Indeed," Jareth smiled lazily. "I've sent a gift to your clan caverns… I'm sure you'll approve. Goblin Leather harnesses like the ones worn by your clan during the Great Goblin Age."

"You're deadly serious, aren't' you?" she asked coming to the realization that there was something devastating in the offing. When he nodded she extended on talon ended hand, still dripping in blood. "The accord will be held." She vowed.

Jareth looked at the bloodied arm extended to him. The former Matron had said her blood would be on his hands. He didn't flinch, nor did he cringe, but rather set his jaw firmly and took the extended arm and clasp the wrist as his was clasped. "I want your clan's allegiance Matron." He growled darkly.

"You have it, Goblin King." She assured him, giving one last look to her mother's beautiful wings. "What will you do with…"

"Philo," Jareth kept his gaze on the new Matron as he called to his steward who was standing by. "See to it that the wings are stored in my chamber… as a trophy…. The remains.."

"Will be disposed of properly," Philo finished for the king as he reached for the bloodied wings. "And the wings shall be on display in your chamber by the time you are ready to retire, Sire."

"Good," He waved the Goblin off. "Any other requests?"

Iris looked down at his codpiece once more. "Can't think of one," she murmured darkly.

"Then I'd day this meeting is at an end, you may take your squadron and depart," Jareth commanded quietly. "I would like the four sent to me come daylight."

Iris bowed respectfully; "As you wish, my King." Turning she led the others out, none looked back at the blooded remains in the center of the Goblin chamber.

Once they had left, Jareth looked down at the remains, snapped his fingers and the steward again moved forward with orderlies who cleaned up the remains. Devon was already on his way down from the gallery above.

"Have you any idea of what you've just done?"

Jareth nodded, "I've taken the first hard steps to saving my Kingdom."

"You sanctioned murder!" Devon raged. "You've breached The Escheat!"

"Calm yourself, my Lord Baron," Jareth said in a tranquil voice.

"It will not be tolerated," warned his cousin.

"Devon, the Harpy are not Kitain, Escheat is still valid." Jareth snapped his fingers and the Goblins quickly left the King to talk to his cousin in private. "Don't ever speak to me that way before my subjects again." The tone of the King's voice was dangerously low. "Or not even Escheat will keep you safe, cousin mine." The mismatched eyes glared as they spit fire.

Rebuked, and aware of his stupid misspoken words, Devon withdrew his objections. "I most humbly beg your pardon, Sire." He drew a long and stabling breath. "You allowed a Harpy not only to be killed before you; you shook your hand in its blood." He shuddered.

"Harpy tradition dictates the Matron must kill the old one." Jareth handed him a scroll.

Unrolling and reading, Devon made a face as he read what in his mind, were foul practices. "I don't remember reading this," he stated.

"You didn't read this… it was a separate issue… it was dealing with a specific ethnic group and species."

Devon read on, "Jareth, are you aware of what you're going to be allowing?"

"I'm within my rights," Jareth claimed.

"Within… but good Goddess man…"

Rising and feeling a renewed sense of purpose, Jareth flexed his muscles and smiled. "Goddess has nothing to do with this, good or bad."

Devon looked at the blood stain of the floor, "Jareth, you intend to leave that there?"

"I do," the King said quietly.

"If the High King hears of this…." Devon warned.

"When he hears of it, it will be from my own lips and no others';" Snapped the newly bloodied King. "I've let thing go because I was never really trained for this job… and I see death and destruction all about me." He waved his hands. "This is worse than anything that mortal girl did to me and the Kingdom. Perhaps I should thank her for bringing this to my attentions!" Jareth moved to the window. "Harpies are down to barely a flock! Fieries are down to a handful… and all the other races including the Fae are dwindling." He gripped the sill as Devon joined him. "I see my Kingdom deteriorating, diminishing, and declining into obliteration if I do nothing." He turned to Devon. "We were once warriors, and loved as well as feared… today few even believe in us in the world Above…. We are called myths and worse."

"Conquering the world here below…" the handsome Fae reasoned; "To re-conquer the one above?" He too looked out the window. "Dicey."

"But worth it if is saves not only this kingdom, but all the underground and the High Court cousin." Jareth mused. "I'm out to save our universe, not just my little corner of it."

"Jareth Tuatha Dé Danann Huukec Mec, Warrior King," Devon mused with a new respect and perspective. "I will be proud to serve at your side."

"It has begun…" Jareth said looking at the blood on his hand. "A new age, the age of the new Goblin nation… and a harsher world."

"You sense more than harshness for our kindred," accused his cousin. "What is it you sense?"

"Dark times ahead," he murmured as he turned away so Devon didn't see him take a taste of the blood he'd allowed to be shed in his throne room; "Dark times and war." Movement in the entry alerted him. "Yes, Philo?"

The steward bowed, "The wings now hang on the wall of your bed chamber, my King. What once was the Matron has been disposed of."

"Good," sighed the King.

"Your dinner is awaiting you, Sire." Philo bowed and departed.

"You're not going to eat after this…" complained Devon still feeling his inners recoiling.

"Go home cousin, if you have no stomach for what is about to occur." Jareth walked past him to head to the dinning hall. Devon followed him, quietly.