Chapter 24. Oberon's bargain

Linda listened to the pounding of her own heart as she lay covered by the milkweed thread sheet along side the handsome Fae. Her blood was still racing though her veins at breakneck speed. His right hand lazily stroked her hair as he watched her with a leisurely smile on his lips. She looked up into his pleasured eyes and released a long exasperated exhale. "You Fae don't play by the rules, do you?"

"We've our own set," he mused back with a gentle smirk.

She looked about franticly for her garments, knowing she was wearing mundane clothes when he'd carried her into this exotic bed. Under her breath she kept muttering that she should have listened to her mother. She didn't remember taking her street clothes off, but as she was completely naked under this sheet she must have at some point disrobed. "Where are my clothes?" she asked at long last.

"You have no need of them for now," answered the snide man placing his free arm under his head, "I will return them to you in due time." He sounded entirely too pleased with himself, and was grinning wickedly.

"Not good enough," she said pulling herself up and covering her body with the sheet. "I have things to do, places to go, people to kill…"

Oberon chuckled loudly as she worked to extricate herself from his touch. "My dear Linda," he teased. "The only thing you have to do right this moment is keep me amused."

"Well begging your almighty pardon," she quipped. "But I've got to warn my ex-husband that his son is in danger… and then…then I'm going to find that rat bastard, the Goblin King and kiss his royal ass…to kingdom come!" She was beyond keeping her voice and manners calm, she was just this side of fury.

Eyeing her like a prized possession, and entertained by the show of motherly fury, Oberon inclined his head to one side as he rose up on his elbow. "You're just the mother who could too." He laughed as he lay back. "Damn, I'd forgotten how delightful you mortal women can be."

"I'm not trying to delight you," argued the woman still franticly gazing about the bower he'd brought her into. "I'm trying to find my clothes."

"You won't find them until I'm ready for you to." He said unabashedly. "And I'm not ready."

Frowning, Linda glared at him, "I suggest you get over yourself."

"I suggest you give up Jeremy, my son," he retorted. "Though I may be a very sharing and caring father, I will not share you with anyone including any one of my sons."

"Son?" scoffed the actress darkly. "He is not your son! Jeremy's parents I've met… old man, and guess what… You weren't there."

Delighted by her fire and spunk Oberon rolled to his side. "Ah Linda, you are a wicked little vixen… alright, I'll grant I'm not his birth father… but Grand, great, whatever sounds so… ancient and though I am getting up in years… I'm not beyond my prime, now am I?" He looked down toward the extending and engorging appendage.

She blushed, "I refuse to answer that on the grounds that it's incriminating." She pulled the sheet tighter about her bosom, trying to hide the fact that her nipples were hardening and her breasts raised. "You're a dirty old man, that's what you are, you old goat!" In the next breath he'd used his legs to knock her flat on her back and he was pinning her down.

"Ma-a-a-ah!." He teasingly bleated as he nuzzled her neck. His reward was her back arching and her mewling. "Don't deny me Linda," he warned softly. "You're no match for me…I am after all a King."

"You're a lying bastard," she pouted as her own body betrayed her.

Oberon pulled the sheet away and cupped her firm and raised breast. "And you want me," he observed, "baaaa-ddddly." He bleated like a goat.

"Pervert," she groaned as he used his knees to spread her wide to accept him. "Fucking Fairy pervert!"

"Yes," He admitted proudly as he entered her forcefully and heard her gasp in excitement and dark pleasure. "And you my sweet are mine, so you had best accept it."

"You think your wife is going to be understanding about this?" she was grasping at straws. "From what I hear, she's not the soul of understanding, and I don't relish the idea of being made a target for her to practice on."

"My wife," he growled as he began to find his rhythm, "Is far and away more understanding about my…trysts than you mortals credit her with being. I blame Will Shakespeare for that bit of misinformation…poetic license my ass… She's very understanding when I find pleasure in a mortal now and again." He hovered over her with a pleased grin. "Just as I understand when she takes a mortal for…pleasure."

"Well, I am not so understanding," argued the woman whose legs had a mind of their own and wrapped about the hips thrusting into her. "God I hate you!"

"Don't lie to yourself darling, you're loving me…and I am so loving you," he teased gently as he drew reactions from her that drove home his point. "And I will never let you go."

Arching and breathing in long anguished pants, Linda found herself torn. Part of her was overjoyed to hear him declare her a treasured possession, and part of her wanted to rip free of his throbbing appendage and run for her life. "Stop," she pleaded. "This is not fair!"

"In comparison to what? By whose standard," he questioned as he continued to thrust his throbbing hardness into her. "From where I sit, or lie rather, this is completely fair."

"You're … married…" she moaned.

"Details," murmured the High King as he thrust deeper. "Now be a good little mortal and moan again."

"What if I get pregnant?" she asked boldly. "How the hell do I explain that?"

"To whom?" he asked back, but didn't halt his quickening pace of thrusts. "You're not going anywhere where you'd have to explain anything, and there is no question of what if…"

"I can't stay here!" Her body ground her hips to his, pulling him deeper inside her as she felt her vagina contract about his swollen manly appendage as it beat up against her cervix. "Don't do this…"

"Too late," he braced himself by yanking her hips closer as he buried his seed in her very warm, very fertile womb; "Much too late."

Linda collapsed back on the flowery bower; "You bastard," she cried softly. "You lying, cheating fucking Fairy Bastard."

"Yes, I can be," he agreed now perched over her. "But you'll get use to it in a few centuries." He kissed her eyelids. "Sleep my vixen…" her eyes fluttered and enchanted sleep was granted to her. "Your King has a few… subjects to see to… and a wife to placate." He kissed her lips once more. "Sleep well, my paramour."

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Oberon moved from his private garden down to the Queen's favorite hot spring pond. He had heard that she was keeping some of her courtiers with her to enjoy the warm waters. "Ladies," the High King greeted the giggling females. "Where is my Queen?"

"Her Majesty is in the waterfalls cooling waters, Sire." One pretty little Lady in Waiting supplied him with the information.

Oberon moved toward the curtain of water, "Tatiana, I need to speak with you my dear." He said softly.

Stepping from the curtain of water, the High Queen looked at him with mild interest. "I had heard you had gone to the mortals' realm," she reached for her drying cloth and her robe. "There was a cry of anguish; did you locate its source?" Once she had donned her robe she held out her hand to her husband.

"I did," he answered sheepishly.

"I know that look," she snickered teasingly. "So the High King rides again?"

"Indeed," he simpered.

"And what is her name?" The High queen took a seat on a tree stump that was beside her.

Oberon knelt at her side, gazing lovingly into the dark eyes of his Queen, his wife. "Her name is Linda…Linda Williams, and I think you're going to like her…she's full of fire, much like you my darling." He leaned forward to kiss his wife's brow.

"Linda Williams, that's a pretty name." Tatiana gave him a quizzical look. "I suppose she's not very happy about being abducted and all. I hear tell that these modern mortal women have a mind set all their own."

"It does not matter, I've brought her here, and here she will remain…" Oberon stood up, clasped his hands behind his back and took an unmovable stance.

Merriment filled the eyes of the High Queen. "Oh by the sounds of your statement, she's not happy about this situation, is she Oberon?"

He shrugged. "I have to do a bit of investigating; it would seem our Goblin King has taken a child that was not wished away."

"Impossible," protested the woman still dripping from the shower in the falls. "He knows the rules… and he's always been so… diligent."

"Yes, well I believe a little visit is in order." Oberon held his hands out to his wife. "I leave the isle of Avalon to your good judgments whilst I am away. My pretty posy is sleeping in my bower, see to it she is not disturbed. I shall return as soon as I've gleaned what I need to know from our wayward boy."

"Your wayward boy," corrected the Queen gently. "I am but his step mother… loving, but still only a step. You on the other hand, are the tree from which his seed was produced. If he's wayward you can take all the credit, we know you will have nothing of the blame."

"You know me too well," He kissed her brow once more. "Take care of our isle, good wife."

"Be careful," she cautioned. "If Jareth took a child without it being wished away there must have been good reason."

"We shall see," Oberon said as he transported himself away from his isle home.

Tatiana looked at the women cavorting in the hot spring pond. "Mossie," she called softly. "I'm going for a walk." She moved quietly toward the King's private garden to get a peep at the sleeping woman her husband had just brought into the community.

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Charmaine looked over the balustrade, her emotions getting the better of her. Even the beauty of the King's night garden could not improve her temperament. For a long time she and Devon had a pleasant understanding, no strings, just good times. However tonight she had the feeling he was not at all present. It was not that the evening had not been pleasant, for it had been most enjoyable with the exception of Talagon. It was the fact that Devon seemed distracted, and not in the least was the distraction attached to her. "Care to tell me where you are?" she asked carefully.

Devon looked at her somewhat confused, "I beg your pardon?"

"I truly wish that you could or would," she grumbled feeling insulted more by his lack of attention than the insults hurled at her earlier by Talagon. "Devon, we've been friends and companions for a good many years…I know when you are not present. So I would like to know what or who is occupying your thoughts."

The Fae Baron closed his eyes, "Charmaine, I do ask for forgiveness if I've been inattentive." His voice even to his own ears was just shy of impatient. "I have business of the realm on my mind I assure you, and Talagon's threats have added their weight to my already heavy load."

"Horse-pucky," she pursed her painted lips and stared at him. "I'm not some simple milk maid, Devon. Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes… You're duties to the King have never interfered with your having a good time. NO, this is something…or someone else."

"Drop it," he warned darkly. "I mean it Charmaine, drop it or I shall forget the years of friendship we've shared."

Lord Astor and his wife were also in the garden; Lady Astor was marveling at the array of flowers in bloom. Lord Basque and his lady were looking at the new fountain the King had commissioned. Rosalind was giving them the details of the new piece when she noticed Jareth's face change from his pleasant smile to a expression of concern.

"Another uninvited guest," He said quietly. "One I can not turn away, Rosalind be a dear and keep my guests entertained." He motioned to Devon who at once came to his side. "WE've got company."

"Who?" Devon looked about but saw no one.

Jareth headed toward the palace. "The High King, that's who…" he began to mutter under his breath.

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Knowing there was no element of surprise when he would appear; Oberon chose not to materialize in the Throne Room, but rather in the court yard outside the Palace's main entry. He breathed deeply, closed his eyes, and allowed his senses to sort out the scents. He knew most of them by heart, and it was the one or two faintly mortal scents that he was interested in. One was here on the palace grounds. The other was some distance, and he found that slightly amusing. He could sense a thread of magic in each of the mortals… and a definite feminine vibe to the scents.

Moving toward the tower, he took into account the state of the castle. It was cleaned up, there was no question of that. The tower's structure was covered in sheets of ivory and topped with opal, and for some reason that struck a cord with the High King. He had forgotten this tower was even here, and looked up to see a hint of Harpy wing dangling out the window entrance of the highest room in the tower. He could see and read the enchantment on the structure, and made no effort to enter. Whatever his son was hiding, he would have to reveal soon enough.

Turning toward the entry he found that palace guards were awaiting his approach. Silently the Goblin guards opened the heavy oaken doors and gave entry to the High King of the Fae. Oberon stepped with an easy gait toward the circular throne room now reserved for the Goblins. His robes swept with elegance and stylishness as he entered his son's domain. "Greetings Goblin King," he said placing his hands to his hipline, his smile was broad and his eyes danced as he spoke the pleasant greeting.

"Greetings High King," Jareth returned the greeting although not with as much cheerfulness and jollity as the High King's greeting. "What brings you so far from you pretty isle?"

"You do, son." Oberon looked at Devon who was standing beside the Goblin Throne. "Nephew, I bring you the greetings of your mother…."

"Oh gods, we're in trouble…" groaned Devon in a sulky tone.

Jareth elbowed his cousin, while keeping his eyes on the High King. "I wish to thank you again for the amusing time we shared on Samhain."

"Ah yes… Samhain… when you left early…" Oberon teased.

"With your permission," Devon reminded the older King who turned to look at him with a look that silenced the young Baron.

Oberon looked at his son, seeing the silk scarf he mused. "New look, laddie mine?"

Absent mindedly the Goblin King put a hand to his scared throat. "Variety is the spice of life, or so you've often told me."

"Indeed, I have said that," Oberon agreed moving closer. "I have also said that lies spin a web that is hard to escape."

"I've told no lie…" Jareth sidestepped.

"Yet," corrected his father harshly. "Now, my boy, care to tell your old man what the hell you've been up to, and why the tower of the Bonded Slave is again occupied?"

"Shit," Devon muttered turning away. "We're ousted."

Jareth smiled at Oberon, "I don't know, Father, seems you're ahead of me." He rose from his throne, defended the few steps of his dais and walked to where the High King stood. "First a question," he said swiftly. "Am I or am I not King?"

Oberon raised one elegant brow, and placed a long fingered hand to his beard to contemplate the answer. "You are king; you are the Goblin King to be precise."

"And as King I am protected under the Eschant?" Jareth's eyes were filling with a wicked pleasure knowing the answer that would have to be given.

"I don't know what you're up to, but yes, under Eschant you are given certain rights and protections." Oberon was now tapping his chin. "What ever it is you've done, you're going to claim privileges and constitutional rights under the Eschant, I take it."

"Indeed," Jareth crossed his arms in defiance. "I am."

"Jareth," his father warned with great sensitivity, "I am fond of you, more than any of my other children in fact. However I suggest you don't try me… I am still High King."

"I would not have it any other way Father." Jareth said in his formal voice.

Oberon looked at the pair, "I know you two are up to something, so you may as well tell dear old dad what it is."

"Dear old dad?" Questioned the Goblin King; "My, aren't we condescending tonight?"

"Start with the need for that scarf," one swift wave of his hand and the scarf on the other's neck was undone revealing to the High King the state of his son's throat. "Good Goddess, what have you done to yourself?"

"I didn't do this," Jareth groused pulling the scarf about the marks once more to cover them completely. "I was abducted and held captive…"

"Abducted? When, where, and how?" Roared the old lion.

"Avalon, Morrigan's Dance, on Samhain…." Jareth said softly; "Three mortal witches evoking the rites from the La Tène scrolls."

Oberon looked over at Devon who nodded, the High King scowled as he glowered. "Avalon is supposed to be protected from that kind of interference…"

"I think it's because they used Morrigan's name and he had just wandered into Morrigan's Dance, on Samhain… the combination set up a vortex they were able to penetrate your wards and defenses." Devon observed having given this much thought over the last few days.

Oberon was still concerned, "I will have to be more diligent in our wards…" He looked at his son. "Go on," he coaxed.

"I was held captive for eleven hours, when Devon and my personal guards rescued me. I used the laws in Eschant to bring judgment swiftly down on my captives." Jareth said evasively.

Knowing a good evasive side step when he saw one, Oberon questioned his son. "Why would three mortal witches out of the blue set about to trap a Fae. And not just any Fae, but the Goblin King?"

"One of them may have had a grudge…" Jareth admitted softly. "She may have had some feeling of resentment or complaint from a prior incident."

"The one now in your tower?" Oberon asked enjoying the banter. "Would she be the young lady with a grudge?"

"Could very well be," Jareth smiled.

"You said three witches… yet I can trace only two scents present here." Oberon observed. "Where's the third?"

"Still in the land of mortals and mundane…" Jareth grumbled. "Banished for all time from Fairy soil."

"Harsh," observed his Father.

"They held me captive, tortured me, and caged me in an iron cage… placed a collar laced with iron about my throat…" Jareth's anger rose again as thoughts of the recent torment and suffering renewed. "The three are lucky I didn't call for payment in their deaths!"

Oberon looked over at Devon; "Eleven hours?" when the Baron nodded he asked his guilt ridden nephew; "How long did you observe before you stepped in?"

"Almost eleven hours." Devon admitted quietly. "At first it was just… silly sexual temptations and deprivations…harmless really."

The Goblin King snorted. "You try being tied to a table and denied release; we'll see how harmless you find it."

Oberon placed a calming hand to the shoulder of the angry King; "Go on, Devon."

"It was when they caged him that I felt it was time to break the party up." Devon moved closer to father and son. "Or actually swing the pendulum to our side."

"I see," Oberon looked at the young men. "So you each took one of the little witches…"

"Yes, sir." They said together like school boys found out in some prank and plot.

"And you allowed on to remain behind," Oberon repeated.

"I bound her powers and banished her…" Jareth stated as if it had covered his bases.

"And the two you've taken as…"

"Spoils of war," Jareth said quietly.

"Spoils of war," Oberon repeated skeptically. The High King winced, pinched the bridge of his nose and let go of the exasperation he was feeling building. "OH lords," he muttered. "What a mess you've made son."

"Father, they waged war, not I." Jareth said firmly. "I was perfectly happy to…" his words stopped suddenly, as he had no plans to own up to the reason for the one witch's resentment.

Oberon was wise, too wise to be fooled by a young pup. "And the reason the one resented you enough to wage a war on a Fae King?"

Devon looked sheepishly at his cousin, and backed away slightly. "This does not concern me…it happened before I got involved."

Oberon looked at his son, "I suggest you start speaking or would you like me to enter the tower and interigate the prisoner?"

"You can't," Jareth said firmly. "I've got wands up and enchantments and….guards…"

Chuckling at his son's frustration, Oberon mused. "Do you really think they could stop the King of all Fae?"

"No," admitted the trapped king. "But they would sure put a cramp in your plans." He sighed. "The one witch is known to me…her name is Sarah…Sarah Williams… and she wished her baby brother away a few years ago…"

"Ah, so she wants the baby back now after all this time… no wait that's not possible…" Oberon mulled over the few facts. "What are you not telling me, boy?"

"I gave her the usual thirteen hours to solve the Labyrinth…" Jareth evaded.

"And when she failed?" Oberon asked pulling his beard again.

Jareth muttered. "She didn't fail."

Stark shock caused the High King to croak out. "She what?"

"She didn't fail," Jareth admitted aloud. "She made it all the way to the castle… and in only eleven hours." Wincing he remembered her in the room of stairs, always just one level away from the boy… that sweet golden haired boy. "I took time from her and still she made it to the castle… never in all my contact with mortal females have I seen such dedication and commitment to achieving her goal…There has never been nor will there ever be another quite like Sarah."

Oberon heard the change in his sons' tone as he spoke the name of his foe. "You said she made it to the castle in eleven hours… but the tourney is thirteen…"

"I stalled, I did everything I could to detour her…I even gave her the romance of a grand ball… but she only wanted the boy back… so when she…" Jareth paused, bitterness seizing him. "So when she took a leap of faith I gave her one last obstacle… I offered her, her dreams…"

Alarms began sounding in the back of the High King's brain, he moaned softly. "You did what?"

"I offered her, her dreams." The younger King repeated bitterly.

Oberon shook his head, moving back and began to pace too many things were just too familiar here. "No, tell me you didn't…"

"She refused them, refused me… and then next thing I know she's saying the words that break the spell and wham she's gone and so is the boy!" Jareth was now speaking out his frustrations.

"What did you do?" Oberon gripped his shoulders and shook him. "What did you do?"

"She chose the boy," Jareth said as if in a trance. "So I let her take him…not that I could have stopped her at that moment…" He looked up, wild eyed, and sadistically pleased. "So I took her dreams…"

The High King heard the words, saw his son's lips speak them. He saw them move, heard the words but could not for just the briefest of moments believe them. He shook the younger man violently and then raised one hand, giving the back of the younger king's head a good hard slap. Devon had never seen the High King strike one of his own before, and staggered back. "What in the name of the seventh level of hell do you think you're doing?"

"She chose the boy!" Jareth roared as his eyes filled with bitter un-spilled tears. "She choose the boy." He collapsed into his Father's arms. Both men sank to their knees, on bracing the other as he wept the tears that had been kept under guard. "She chose…the boy…."

Oberon looked to Devon, "I take it this was no ordinary runner."

"No, sire," Devon said softly. "The girl… was unique." Devon stayed at a distance for fear of the High King taking a well deserved swat at him as well. "I believe Jareth was taken with her even before she wished the child away."

Calming his son, the High King looked into his eyes with considerable compassion and sensitivity. "Tell me what you did, boy…tell me it all."

Jareth was leaning on his father's chest, sobbing. "I went after her, wanting to give her one more…chance…but she was celebrating her victory over me…and I was barred from entering her quarters whilst she was waking…" he gulped down the tears. "I waited, and when she had bid her guests goodbye and was alone and asleep…I entered her rooms…" his lips curled with the memory. "I bent over her, deepened her sleep and took from her that which belonged to me… her first true kiss and then her dreams." The wild-eyed look had returned, as had the sneer. He looked into his father's face; "She should never have been able to leave," he growled as he gripped his father's garments. "I don't understand… how she could choose him, and leave."

Oberon looked deeply into the disturbed stormy eyes. "Devon, bring the healer to Jareth's chambers, now!" The High King took command and swept the ailing child up into his arms and away from the throne room. He gently laid the King upon his bed and bid him to be still. Moments later when Devon and Ghillie Dhu appeared Oberon drew his nephew aside; "Go, take care of his guests… tell them he's been called away. No one will question a summons. Bid the guests good night and return to me. We've words to say between us."

"Yes, Uncle," Devon hoped that using the family title instead of the royal one would buy him time.

The High King took a seat and waited for the Healer to finish his examination of the Goblin King.

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Devon found Rosalind; his face told her what she didn't want to hear. "Dear God we're in trouble," she mumbled as she moved to where he stood. "What is it?"
Not wishing to lie to her, as she was more useful when she had information, Devon grabbed her wrist. "The High King is here, and he and Jareth are …. We have to get rid of the guest. The High King suggests saying the King has been summonsed."

"Won't the Goblins dispute this?" She asked worriedly.

"No," Devon assured her. "They will do what ever they have to, they are not a problem."

Rosalind smiled, "Devon, leave this to me." She patted his wrist turned on her heal and moved swiftly to Lord Aston and his wife; she whispered something to the man who nodded. She then moved to the second couple and finally to Charmaine. Half an hour later everyone had departed including the miffed Charmaine.

Devon looked surprised by pleased. "I don't know how, and I'm afraid to ask." He admitted.

"Just don't worry," she flung her cloak over her shoulder, "Devon, do tell Jareth he owes me…" she swept down the long stairs before vanishing.

"That woman knows how to make and exit," mused the Baron turning to look up to where the King's rooms were. He squared his shoulders and transported himself out of the foyer and into the King's rooms. He looked at his Uncle and whispered. "Is the healer finished?"

"No," Oberon said tightly. "Devon sit, we need to speak, and I have no wish to address you as you stand over me."

"Sorry, Uncle," self-assuredly the Baron took a seat opposite that of his uncle and gave him his attention. "You were saying?"

"Devon when I requested that you spend time with your cousin, I thought I made it clear that I expected you to…. Be a good influence upon him… not let him run amok." Oberon leaned forward. "Yet you did nothing…"

"I wasn't here," Devon interrupted. "When this Sarah made her first visit to the Kingdom I was at court." He spoke frankly and bluntly knowing the weight of the truth was on his side this time. "I was not aware of the entire Sarah incident for more than a year after it occurred."

"How long ago was her first visit?" Oberon asked. "Do you know?"

"Four years ago, Uncle." Devon stated quietly, he turned his head, "Ghillie Dhu is headed this way."

Oberon kept seated, while Devon stood to greet the healer. Oberon motioned the old one to be seated. "Well, how is my son?"

"Your guess would be as good a mine," Ghillie Dhu replied in a reedy tenor. "He is hardly forthcoming with any kind of information. However perhaps you can make him talk."

Oberon moved to the bed where his son lay staring at an orb. Looking at it, the High King at first saw nothing, and then upon closer inspection saw far too much. "You placed her dreams in this orb?" Jareth nodded, absently. Taking a seat on the bed the High King snapped his fingers in front of his son to gain attention. "Hear me boy, you've done something very very foolish!"

"It was my right," Jareth said defensively. "Payment for services rendered," his voice dripped with sarcasm.

Oberon pitied his childe, knowing the pain of rejection. "Did you hate her so that you'd wish harm to her?" The boy looked away, refusing to answer. "Jareth, do you know what happens to a mortal who is deprived of their dreams?"

"They wither and die," Jareth replied in a monotone. "What of it?" He looked at the orb, "I should care what happens to her?"

"I think you do care…" Oberon said softly. "Why else would you have made it possible for her not to forget?"

"She should have forgotten, and been forgotten," argued the dejected young man. "She should have curled up and dried up and blown away like the dust she's comprised of."

"You've been feeding off her dreams, and have learned so little," Oberon complained softly. "You have lived with her dreams for four years, do you know so little of the girl… Of Sarah Williams?"

Jareth looked at his father with a strange wicked gleam. "I know only this…She took up magic, and that makes her subject to the Eschant the same as I am… and now she's bound to me, as she should have been when she ate the peach."

Blinking Oberon rose from the bed; "What peach?"

"The one I gave my dwarf to give her…" Jareth smiled. "She escaped me once, but that's not going to happen again."

The High King turned to his nephew, seeing the guilt on his face he knew it was true. "You are my son," observed the King with criticism. "Well my boy, you know the Eschant, and you know the canons…. So…." He began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back. "For now, I will not interfere; I will not hinder you nor obstruct your hands. I will not hamper nor will I impede… I will remain neutral. However, should you decide that you've bitten off more than you can chew… you have but to ask for my help."

Jareth looked at the High King with disbelieve, not liking to be suspicious of his own father but history had taught him that the old man was a fox. "And you'll stay out of it, unless I call upon you?"

"I will not lift a finger for or against you." Oberon promised.

Devon also found this to be too good to be true. "He's up to something." He warned Jareth. "I've seen that look before."

"I don't care," Jareth knelt up on the bed, "I have your word, and old man…you'll not try to save the girl? No matter what I do to her?"

"No, and if she turns around and retaliates I won't lift a finger to help you either." Oberon quipped with a wicked smile.

"Ha, I've got her in the tower; she's not likely to be able to do more than hurl insults down on me." Jareth retorted sharply.

Oberon looked at the haughty young man, "Jareth you are my son, and I doubt you plan on leaving that lovely creature to rot in that tower… Zoltarie couldn't leave his Tagaan or Rhuukarlaan in that tower, and I'll wager you won't either… You're my son… you have my pride and my….urges…" He placed his hands again on his hips as he spoke to his son. "You will want to possess her completely, and that my boy will be the beginning of your downfall… and it's already begun. First her dreams, then her body and then you'll want her very soul."

Pointing toward the tower Jareth growled, "She can rot in there! Look at what she did to me," he ripped the scarf from his throat. "She did this, old man, that little girl…"

"You took her dreams," Oberon accused.

"She dashed mine first!" Bellowed the Goblin King. "And now she pays." His voice went calm. "She can rot in that tower."

Amused and knowing better Oberon chuckled softly. "Oh son, you are already besotted with her." Closing his eyes, the High King drew in the scent that belonged to Sarah. He looked at his son. "You put enchantments upon her so no one could touch her. Now tell me you didn't plan on having your way with her."

"I never said I didn't intend to take pleasure from that witch, I said she could rot in the tower." Jareth leaned back exhausted. "Of course I intend to bed her." He wagged a finger at the High King. "And I have your word you'll not intercede on her behalf."

"I am the least of your worries, my boy." Oberon sighed. "You've gone and begun a repeat of history… I hope for your sake and that of the girls that it ends better for you than it did of Zoltarie… I was very fond of him… not half bad for a Goblin…." He mused softly.

Jareth frowned. "I have your word?"

"You have my oath," Oberon smiled. "Unless asked for I will not help." He turned to Devon. "Your mother would like you to call upon her… you've your own set of blocks to pick up…" Turning the High King moved toward Jareth's balcony. "I shall be on my way… I've a Kingdom to take care of… Oh and Jareth, about the Williams girl, a word of warning… the females in that family bite."

"Hold up old man!" roared Jareth. "How would you know that?"

Oberon stood near the door, and paused. "I'm the High King," he quipped forebodingly.

Closing his eyes quickly Jareth sniffed the air. "You old fraud!" he growled. "You went and took the mother…what I have the daughter so you decide to get some action going with the mother?" he was looking at his father with a look that accused and yet was admiring.

"Did you really believe I would ignore the cry of anguish?" Demanded the High King; "Surely you have more brains than that, laddie." The look of satisfaction was once more on the King's features; "Sauce for goose and gander."

"You randy old fox," Jareth muttered as he snickered. "So old man, was she good?" his voice dropped into a dark place.

"Better than you deserve to know," winked the father. "Remember what I said, they bite…"