(A/N) - Again, I apologize for taking so long to get this up. (Gimme a break, I just started college.) anyway, here it is. (just a short little thing, but the next one's almost finished ) Hope you like it…let me know either way…hint-hint-wink-wink-nudge-nudge Also this is entirely from Augusta's POV.

(Syr - sounds like 'Sear')

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any part of the Labyrinth, I am only inspired by it, which is good because imagination doesn't require me to pay rent.

(I really don't think I'd like to have Jareth in the role of

my landlord…)

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CHAPTER VI - An Honest Situation

Augusta crouched atop a knoll in the tall summer grass, silently watching the bustling encampment below. A gentle breeze tugged at her unbound hair, bringing with it the scent of the Pear River. The sun's rays falling bright behind her transformed her into another nameless shadow on the hill--a trick her desert bred husband had taught her.

She watched the activity below where nearly ninety tents formed five neat little enclaves of color. The basic layout was the same for each miniature camp; the King's pavilion tent in the center with rings of smaller tents sprawling outward from the first, like ripples in a pond, for the attendants and vassals each had brought with him. Her own pavilion--a giant monstrosity crafted from blue Dorvali silk edged in gold that had been Jason's last extravagant purchase before his death--occupied a good portion of the western bank.

She combed her fingers through the lush grass, judging its moisture as the daughter of a farming lord had been taught to do. Aside from the carefully cultivated pastures of the stable yard, no real grass grew within the Goblin Kingdom that had been her home for more than half her life. Recognizing an instinct unused since childhood, Augusta smiled.

Several colors were missing from the array before her.

The maroon of Great Rowan would be placed to one side of her own blue with Jareth's purple and grey on the other, just as the Rowan Plains bordered the Goblin Kingdom and Syr.

Likewise her brothers tents wouldn't arrive until he himself did later that afternoon, but his emblem¾ a sword and crystal on a purple field¾ was already unfurled beside her own golden pear; a powerful reminder to all assembled that she shared his full authority.

Izenfae's white silk was also absent; Titania would show up when and where she damn well pleased, as always. Augusta had made certain that several choice slots had been left open for the queen, but aside from that there was little she could do.

She smiled in anticipation of the intricate dance that would take place over the course of the next few days. Aside from the gaming and sales that would take place, the Fair was also the time when the treaties from previous years were revisited, reworded when necessary and renewed by all. Alliances were formed, plans were laid in motion for large scale trades and public projects in the year to come, disputes were brought before the council and solutions, or at least the beginnings of them, were found. It was also the place where the youth of the highborn Fae, who were not already promised, were expected to find their future partners.

She snorted. It was a ridiculous concept, throwing twenty or thirty young people together for a few days, in an environment that was as artificial as the smiles their elders wore, and expecting them to learn enough about each others character to choose a life partner. No wonder so many young men and women were actually relived to learn of an arranged marriage; at least that way they could know exactly what was expected of them and what to expect in return.

She reclined in the thick grass, musing on her own situation. The bustling hum of activity below was a pleasant offset to the hum of the river water. She and Jason had been lucky. They had met in a war; as honest a situation as any she could ask for. They spent the better part of two months trooping across the low scrub hills, and arid sand flats of the northwestern borderlands between Syr and the Goblin Kingdom, eradicating what was left of the Gothnowyn raiding parties that had swept through the lower kingdoms earlier that year. Everyone in both parties was equally dust covered, sweat-soaked and bone tired, the idea of trying to impress anyone would have been ludicrous. But somehow, without even trying, he had made an impression-albeit a temporarily bad one.

He'd appeared out of nowhere, arrogantly shouting orders, demands for various explanations, and insisting that they had overstepped their rights by entering Goblin land. He was blond, loud, grinning like a mad-man; Augusta had taken an instant dislike to him. Especially considering that they were actually still in Syr…

With neither willing to back down, the two camps had been combined into a single, sprawling train of barely controlled chaos. "After all," He'd insisted, "with both our resources combined we can leave twice as fast."

He'd grated on her nerves, his ever lurking arrogance even more so, but in a weird sort of way, their combined personalities just worked. They balanced each other and found that they really did get things done twice as fast and with half the hassle. Despite the short tempers, and miserable environment, and his own special brand of arrogance that put even Jareth's to shame, she had discovered she was actually growing to like the bastard.

In fact, she'd liked him enough to invite him back to Syr that fall for the Pear Blossom Festival. A smile played across her features. Yes, that had been a summer…

The beautiful pear trees that Syr was famous for were tended by a veritable army of ground keepers, who kept the trees in order and facilitated an easy harvest. That year, however, there was an uprising among the lower class-the reason for which escaped her-and the orchards had been left unattended for the first time in memory.

With no one to tend the pear trees, the carefully cultivated orchards were left to grow wild that year. More than a hundred square measures of groves along the Pear River had run riot; the fruit and blossoms of innumerable trees, swollen and sweet, graced the waters of the Pear. Left to run the river's course under the sweltering heat of Syran high summer rather than the course to market, they fermented in the clear waters, turning the river to gold and spreading the scent of pear wine over half the continent. In later years it would be said that, in that fateful summer, the fish of Brochwell bay had swum willingly to the fishers nets, drunk on pear wine from the swollen rivers' tide.

Even now, so far down stream, she fancied she could catch the faint scent of pear blossoms on the breeze. Impossible of course. The orchards were now well in hand-she'd made certain of it after the fortune she'd lost-but each year, the remains of the blossoms and the pears that were damaged and thus unsuitable for sale were emptied into the Pear River in testament to that summer.

She smiled again.

It had taken a long time before she could think about the good things without remembering the end to it all. But if things progressed according to plan-if they could actually pull this off-Jason's dream of a lasting peace, of permanent ties to the mortal world, would become reality.

"Soon, my love…" she whispered, "very soon."

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(A/N) I know, it's short. But I hope to have the next bit up within the week…(because I get things done sooo fast…lol) I hope it explained a few of the flash backs too.