Chapter 22. Ripples in the pond

Once he was at what felt like a safe distance Jeremy pulled off the road and looked at Linda saying one word. "Goblins," Linda roared in frustration. It was a sound that filtered long and far away:

Oberon was seated alone by the pond at the base of one of the many lovely waterfalls that graced the grounds of his island home. For days now he'd been troubled, and not entirely sure by what. His Queen had witness so many of these moods over the years that she just let him go off on his own to sort things through. More often than not he'd end up at this lovely enchanted pool, with it cool waters and gentle mists and soft green grass. Most of the court knew this to be a private spot reserved for the King and so they stayed at a distance.

The High King had been troubled by thoughts since the advent of the Samhain feast. Jareth had seemed unusually out of sorts, and Tanya following him like a love-sick puppy had not helped. Still ever since the lad had taken up the crown and was wearing it seriously, things had not seemed…peaceable. Dark moods were a thing the High King understood…all too well. He himself had been and was still subject to them, and was not surprised that one of his children was as temperamental as he. What troubled him was this time he could not trace a cause to Jareth's behavior. In the past he was always aware of what had triggered the temperament, but not this time.

Giving the Goblin Throne to Jareth had not been an easy decision for the High King. Not that Jareth was not entitled; his lineage gave him entitlement. It was more a question of maturity, something Oberon was not sure Jareth had developed when he'd given him the Goblin Kingdom to rule. He was spoiled, as a good many Fae Royalty and Nobility were, and had whined about being given the worst of all the realms. Unfortunately he was not far off the mark. Several other Royals had refused the Goblin Kingdom… few Fae Kings stayed on that throne for more than a century. Oberon had more or less used it as a testing ground, planning on moving Jareth to a more appropriate station when the time came. However the boy was stubborn, and had never requested to be moved. Oh he'd complained, and he'd whined, but he had not actually requested being moved.

Oberon smiled, of all his children, he was fondest of Jareth. Of all his children, and there were many, Jareth was closest to him in temperament and spirit if not in physical attributes. There had been a time, long ago when Fae were as prolific as mortals when families had been large and plentiful. Then had come the dark days, and the gift of children had become rarer. Few wished to recall those days, and of the many lives lost. Few wished to acknowledge that perhaps their own arrogance had played a part in the disease that had struck them. It was found that many of the males had been rendered sterile as well as the females of their ilk. For some reason male Royals had seemed exempt from that malady. If anything, they were even more virile, and developed a randy taste for females of other species. His own father had been known to spread his seed in grounds other than Fae. For this reason it was often overlooked by Fae wives when a male went momentarily astray. So few females seemed able to conceive, often a male would seek a female outside the Fae community, and use her as a surrogate to give him a child. Those children and sometimes their mothers were brought into the Fae community, to freshen the bloodlines. More often then not, if the female was mortal she would choose to accompany her child into the FairyLands, other species were not quite as maternal. Over time it was now possible to know which of the families were able to produce heirs, and Nobles and Royals married according to those lines. Oberon had seen his own father use his sister, Donella, as bait to lure able bodied males into the growing clan. He had not approved, nor had he rebuked, he had merely accepted.

The wars that had broken out during his youth had taught the Fae that they too had mortality. Oberon had seen his father, and his uncles die in battles over little more than breathing and breeding spaces. He himself had suffered scares until he'd found a way to unit the FairyLands and all the battling Fae Clans. He has also brought under control other ethereal nations. Elves, dwarfs, gnomes, and even the Goblins, under Oberon they had to be united. He had placed Kings and governors of Fae Royal blood on their thrones. Uniting once and for all the Underground. All this he had done for his people, for his family… and now he worried that it may not have been enough.

"You seem troubled," a voice broke his reverie.

Oberon looked toward the direction the voice had come and found Donelle, his sister, watching him. "I am." He motioned her to come and join him on the patch of thick grass. "What brings thee to my isle?"

"I've received word that my son has rejected yet another Fae noblewoman, and her father has issued a complaint." Donelle stated calmly.

"Devon is in no rush to marry, it would seem." Oberon observed quietly.

"Devon should not have been so rude." The mother of the Baron replied. "He told the father of the girl he'd be happy to try her out in his bed…but would make no promise of marrying her."

Oberon had always enjoyed his sister's company. She was the very picture of Fae perfection…not the perfection that mortals thought of, but that which old Fae families thought of. She was not very tall, coming only to her brother's shoulder and she was not overly slender. She was a woman with a healthy figure, and delightful curves. Womanly, her father had described her. Her eyes were more blue than gray, and her long dark hair was worn cascading down her back. Donelle's voice was softly accented from all her years walking the Celtic soil before she settled down to an estate in a FairyLand Kingdom. She had not asked for much of anything once the man her father had saddled her with had died. And Oberon had looked the other way when she'd taken a lover and given birth to Devon.

"Of all my children, Devon is my favorite," she confessed softly. "Unfortunately the boy knows it. I was hopping to prevail upon you, my brother and our High King to talk some sense into the lad… Ever since he went off to live full time in the Goblin Kingdome, he's been…" She paused, at a loss for words.

"Devon feels a certain amount of protectiveness for his cousin," Oberon observed quietly. "He is the reason that Jareth has made an effort to attend court functions and events."

"My son can be very responsible." Motherly pride was in her gentle voice. "He's a good and loyal subject."

Oberon had to agree, the young Fae Lord was a good and loyal subject. "I for one was very pleased when he chose to make a home for himself in the Goblin Realm."

Donelle didn't share his pleasure. "I can not say I share this feeling with you."

The High King shrugged and held his hand out to his sister. "Would you have had me refuse him, give him orders as our father gave to you, sister?" Her darkened face told him she would not. "I will not force any of the Royals to marry. Those who wish to accept the offers and advances made upon them are free to… I will not force my sons or yours to take wives they can not love. You know all about not being able to love the person you are bonded to how it can make one look elsewhere…"

"And what is your excuse, Oberon?" She chided gently. "I know for a fact that you love your wife and Queen…. That there is great passion betwixt you, and children to show for it… why then do you… wonder into other beds?"

"Lack of discipline," the High King sighed. "Bad habits that is now impossible to break." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "I have been given a wonderful wife who understands that old though this dog may be, he still has an itch."

Donelle snickered. "What were you mulling over when I disturbed you?"

"Jareth, as a matter of fact," he admitted. "Something is up with him and I can not for the life of me sort it out."

"I would think you'd be strutting like a prize cock!" Donelle's surprise took her brother's breath away. "For years he's done nothing but complain about his lot in life…Oh he performed his duties as Goblin King, barely… but he did perform. He gathered the unwanted, and he saw to it they were given to families who would not only accept the gift of a child but would appreciate what a treasure they were being given." She squeezed her brother's hand. "Why in the last couple of years he's shown an amazing amount of maturity! Pulling his Kingdom up out of the dust and demanding the respect it's due."

"Yes, he's done a wonderful job," agreed the King. "But Donelle, how did he come to suddenly want to be a real King? What happened that awoke him?"

"I know not," she admitted softly. "Does it really matter?"

Nodding Oberon's face showed worry. "Yes, dear sister, I think it just might." He looked at the pond as he spoke. "Jareth has always been a secretive soul, hiding his inner most feelings… raised in a court by women who were not his mother… I have never understood how she could just send him to me and then deny him ever after. Oh Tatiana did her best to be a good foster mother to the boy, and he's devoted to her…but it's not the same as having one's own mother. Some of his siblings were all too quick to point out to him that she's not his real mother."

"Poppy cock!" Exclaimed the woman; "Tatiana is very much his real mother…if not by blood by intent."

"I agree," Oberon smiled softly thinking of his proud and beautiful wife and her treatment of his child. She had taken him to her when he was but an infant and delivered unceremoniously to the High King. She had fussed over him as if he'd come from her own womb. "She loves him dearly, and is his most fervent supporter…often she has used influence over me to soften difficult times between me and the lad."

"Some of your other children are, well to be perfectly honest, they are jealous of the place Jareth has in your heart and in the High Queen's." Donelle stated.

"Because of their petty jealousy, Jareth learned to be secretive." Oberon observed with resentment. "Hiding his hurts, so few see the real Jareth… You, Tatiana... some time I see him… and of course your Devon."

"And not always Devon," sighed Donelle. "Jareth shares what he can, but alas…"

"Exactly, alas…" Oberon stood, and pulled his sister to her feet. "As you have pointed out I should be and am proud of the changes… For the love of the Goddess he's even taken to wearing a King's circlet! I never expected that."

"Take this change in your son as a sign…" she began.

"A sign is what I'm worried about sister," Oberon interrupted her. "Donelle, there are dark clouds a gathering," he shared his fears. "Dangerous times are ahead…"

It pained her to see the worry and apprehension on the face of her beloved brother. She moved closer to give comfort and support, as she opened her mouth to speak a sound filled the air. The sound was one of anguish, frustration and a soul in torment. The force with which it had been delivered shook the air and the very ground they stood upon. It also sent ripples surging in the clear calm waters of the pond. Even the waterfall reacted, the waters surging with more violence. Donelle looked from the High King to the pond and gasped.

Oberon pulled her back protectively, and blocked her from harm if it were about to rise out of the churning waters. A moment later it was gone, and the pair looked at the ripples on the water's surface. "What the hell was that?"

Donelle shook her head, "I have no idea, but that was such an anguished cry… only a mother can make that sound."

Oberon nodded, "Donelle, make my apologies to the court… I'd best go investigate this… That sound came from the mundane planes of the Mortals. I can pass between easily, and go unnoticed." He released his sister's hands and vanished from the pastoral setting.