A/N: I didn't know what would be worse for you guys: having to wait another few days for an update, or to have an update that is really just part 2 of a 3-part chapter. I decided to go with the latter because I'm two hours away from my flight to see the DAVID BOWIE IS exhibition! And I really felt bad for leaving you guys hanging much longer! Although you'll probably hate me because (warning spoiler) there's not J/S reunion in this part. I swear I was getting to it and once again my life just snuck up on me. But you'll have it when I get back, I assure you! So here you go! I'll see you on the other side of my fantastic trip to Melbourne to revel in the glory of Bowie! xxx
Face the strange: part two
A peacekeeper's duties were never done.
Just because she spent her days in lengthy mitigation didn't mean she was exempt from daily tasks. Like scrubbing pots, for instance, or harvesting the few crops that grew, or washing her own clothes. Every person was responsible for themselves and the lives of others. It was this way because Lina had made it so. And if she had to follow those rules herself in order to lead by example, well then so be it. She was an excellent meditator. And if she was beyond exhausted at the end of each day, then there was a type of peace to be found in that too.
But perhaps not today.
The scrape of sand against clay plots was often her favourite sound to be lost in. However, today Lina couldn't find the focus. Cross legged in the shade of the kitchen tent, she closed her eyes and tried to breathe evenly. My hands are – are cracked and calloused, she noted silently. The sand feels…gritty. The observations didn't flow the way they usually did; she was struggling with the words. It stings my skin. It…Lina bit her lip in annoyance. The feel of the sand disappeared from thought. All day this had been happening, her mind wandering, skin itching though she couldn't say why. Blowing at a loose strand of auburn hair, she sighed and tried again. It makes a rasping sound against the clay, which scratches at my ears and…and…
She growled in frustration, choosing instead to attack the pots with vigour. If peace wasn't to be found, then she'd get the job done quickly and get to bed. Maybe tomorrow her nameless unease would have passed.
"You'll crack the clay if you work it that hard," a passing elder scolded on her way from the kitchen. Lina bit her tongue and slowed her pace only until the woman was out of sight. Then, resuming the rough work, she thought of Jareth for the hundredth time that afternoon. Why hadn't he been to visit her again? She'd counted every second since their first and last meeting in the dream state. It concerned her that he hadn't come again. But then, he was the Goblin King – because of her – and probably wildly busy – because of her. She wondered how Sarah was and tried not to think about what the girl was risking to be with Jareth. If she'd been discovered by Mira…Lina shook her head. No. He'd have found me. I would know. He'd have gotten –
"There's an Elf here to see you, Lina."
After one hundred years she was more than used to being addressed casually by the community. This meant that at first she didn't quite register the significance of the announcement. She smiled tiredly up at the sunburned face of T'orelle, a young woman who lived nearby the peacekeepers' zones.
"Someone's here for me?" she enquired, wiping her hands of sand. Any distraction from her restless mind was welcome, even if it was to be more work.
"An Elf is here for you," the woman emphasised. "He just stepped out of a mirror and asked to see you. Said he's been sent from the Goblin King."
Lina froze. She'd never shown much talent for prescience the way her mother did. Yet that must have been a small flicker of it then, surely. "Where is he?" she asked, flooded with images of blood and execution and her distraught brother. Following T'orelle wordlessly, Lina wiped her hands on her skirts and tried to ignore how they trembled. Why had he sent an Elf in person? Why not the dream state? If he was contacting her directly then he must have lost too much for the risks to matter. Oh, my brother. One hand clung tightly to the hair that spilled over her shoulder. T'orelle stopped outside the adjoining tents used for Council meetings and eyed Lina, concerned.
"He won't say what he's here for exactly," she ventured, gently touching the Fae's arm. "But he seems distressed, even if he won't admit it. I'll be here if you need me."
"Thank you," Lina replied with a tight smile, barely trusting herself to speak. Her heart beat painfully hard, ignoring decades of training that warned her to keep calm. Wherever Jareth was concerned Lina tended to forget herself. It was an effort to take a deep breath before pushing her way through the open tent flaps into the dim interior.
He was his True Self; she could tell that much.
Though the Elf stood straighter upon her arrival and offered a courteous bow, there was a spark of life in his eyes that gleamed despite the shadows of their surroundings. Words were already half-formed on his lips, mouth moving silently while he waited for her to approach. His booted foot tapped an anxious rhythm into the sand. Lina knew Elves, and she knew that this particular one was pretending to be something he wasn't.
"Your Royal Highness," he began with a tremor in that determined voice, "I have been sent to –"
"You've been beaten," she interrupted, aghast at the sight of his bruised eyes, healing lip and sunken cheeks. Elves were never treated too gently but it didn't make the reality any less unpleasant. Immediately Lina rushed to him with an outstretched hand and touched his arm. She couldn't help herself when it came to Elves. It was nothing to do with being reminded of Kiff; she'd inherited a love for their community from her father. Murmuring the words for healing, she watched in satisfaction as the pointed green face became one of absolute health.
"You're very forward for a royal," he muttered, touching his jaw.
"And you're very bad at pretending to be a servant," she replied, smiling indulgently at his surprised expression. "Now please, tell me my brother is all right."
"You've missed a lot," the Elf told her. Though his voice became more natural it was no less tense with anxiousness. "The Goblin King sent me to collect you, Ma'am. I'm sorry I don't have time to explain anything; I need to find Sarah before –"
"Find her? Where's she gone?"
"If I knew that I wouldn't be looking for her," he replied tersely, ushering for her to follow him to a large slim mirror a few steps away. "I'll take you to the Council Chambers and then I have to go. You'll have to forgive my rudeness."
"Oh will I now?" Lina muttered despite her worry. She liked True Elf personalities; they were vivid and flawed and real. "What's your name?"
"Wick," he told her, stepping through the mirror with a look that told her to follow. Any other Fae would have been affronted by his demeanour, but a century among desert dwellers had lowered Lina's expectations of deference. The name sparked a familiarity she couldn't place, but she had to hurry to follow him through the mirror and had no chance to speak. One blink, and her world changed as it hadn't done for decades.
The Palace was just as she remembered: heartless and chilly and hard. The marble and stone reflected impassivity in the face of all the life-altering decisions that had been made within those walls. A shiver made her hair stand on end. The last time she'd been here she'd been the one on trial. Her own mother had condemned her to exile in the Dust Bowl. Training, was what she'd called it, but Lina had seen right through that. She wrapped her arms around herself; this place chilled her to the bone more than any simple change of weather could. Seeking out Wick for comfort, Lina saw him vanish around the corner in a dash, no doubt to continue his search for Sarah. She had so many questions and nobody to ask. Loneliness settled on her like a shadow. But alone, she was not.
The first Fae she'd seen in decades – besides Jareth – were the ones who'd helped send her away to begin with. Ezra looked untouched by age as ever, sleek and mean-spirited. Dovail and Marina, twins in their reserved expressions and stiff posture. Jini, the youngest of them all, with a disdain on her face that she hadn't quite earned the right to wear yet. And the others, all attempting to appear calm though it was clear that something was gravely amiss. They all stood in a semi-circle, rapid conversations cutting short upon her arrival.
Their expressions spoke of waiting to be addressed in the proper manner. Lina hadn't forgotten Fae propriety in one hundred years, but the Council weren't to know that. She forced a smile and a slight nod, but nothing more. Worry over Jareth was starting to take hold again.
"Where are your thoughts, child, that you forget your place among Council members?" Ezra demanded, stepping forward.
"My thoughts are with my brother," she answered swiftly. "And my place is by his side. Nothing else matters to me, least of all social standing." Years of growing up as a royal had honed Lina's ability to deflect Ezra's tedious superiority. There was little the old woman could say that would have any effect on her.
"Then your mind is in the Above, which is of no use to us when your mother has disappeared!" Dovail bit out heatedly. The less rash of the two, Marina winced at her brother's tone but said nothing. The Council had always had a complicated relationship with the royal children, affronted by their tenacity but forced to yield by custom.
Lina, for her part, did little to make it easier for them. "What?" she asked bluntly. "What do you mean 'Above'? And where's my mother?"
Ezra opened her mouth to speak but the arrival of another Fae brought expectant silence. Lina turned to the new face with angry eyes, desperate and impatient for more information. The man was vaguely familiar for his resemblance to Ezra, but Lina couldn't place the name. She remembered him from childhood, almost fifty years old herself and every bit as stiff as his ancestor.
"I apologise for the wait my honourable Councillors, my Lady El'Maven," he said in a deep, authoritative voice. He bowed to them all but let his grey eyes rest solemnly on Lina. "I am Brynn Fel Vaden, Ma'am. I'm afraid I've summoned you here for dire reasons."
The Goblin King sent me to collect you, Ma'am. Lina regarded him warily. He'd bowed specifically to her with his left fist over his heart, a sign of condolence in times of loss. Her throat felt dry as dust. "You aren't the Goblin King," she said hoarsely.
"That is debatable," he answered plainly, hand falling to the side. "In a manner of speaking I still am, but the next few hours will reveal my true standing."
Sign of loss. No Jareth. An awful feeling was welling inside Lina, a fire ready to blaze, a river ready to drown. "Where's J –"
"Why have you stopped us in our search, Goblin King?" Dovail interrupted. "Her Majesty is missing, and we –"
"I'm afraid you can call off the search, Councillor," Brynn cut in shortly. "I found the Queen."
"Well where is she?" demanded Ezra.
Again, in an oddly distanced way, Brynn made the sign of condolence toward Lina before answering. "Her Majesty called me to her urgently this evening. She told me that the pain of her broken promise was too much to bear, and asked that Sarah Williams be killed so it may stop. She told me, for reasons I can't fathom, not to call on anyone else. I did what was asked of me. I brought the sleeping body of Miss Williams to the Goblin City Centre in the company of the Queen." His report was careful, paced, respectful. Too proper to reveal any true grief, but that could have just been the way he spoke about any subject. He hesitated. "The hordes have never been under the jurisdiction of the Royal Family. They have only ever responded to the leadership of their choosing. Tonight…with her Majesty so weak…they were beyond any Fae control. Her injuries were too much temptation." He barely blinked. "The goblins took the Queen's life."
Some of the Councillors gasped, some bowed their heads in silence. Lina's mind was filled with a thick buzzing, a cotton sensation that made it difficult to think. Oddly, or perhaps not so, she longed for her father in that moment. She missed him, yet on the heels of that thought came another, full of bitter hope: "So – so Jareth's not dead?"
Brynn looked confused. "Your brother is safe as he ever was, Ma'am," he told her. "As safe as he can be as a mortal in the Above."
"A mortal in the Above?"
He blinked. "Has nobody told you?"
"What of the human?" Ezra interrupted, pushing forward with hellish fury in her eyes. "Was she consumed by the hordes too?"
"Not quite."
"What do you mean 'not quite'?"
"The creatures have chosen Sarah Williams as their leader," Brynn told them composedly, receiving much outcry in response.
"She's human –"
"That's absurd, they can't have –"
"How can a –?"
"She should have been killed months –"
"My mother is dead!" Lina screamed over the din, fists clenched and eyes sparkling with emotion. They all fell silent. "Mira El'Maven is dead. As her daughter that makes me Queen, so you will answer me: where is my brother?"
"I wanna live, I wanna give, I've been a miner for a heart of gold…"
The voice seemed to celebrate its melancholy; the guitar thrummed a sad beat around the words and lulled him into an easy sense of peace. Sarah's taste in music had always been hard to pin down, yet with their recent investment it seemed easier to revel in her penchant for the nostalgic. His own favourites tended toward a more eclectic selection of old human rock. However, lying beside her on the carpet amidst a selection of her treasured LPs granted him a peace he hadn't quite expected.
"I love the crackling sound," Sarah murmured, reaching a hand over her head to play with a strand of his hair. Thirty years on and she still loved the simple things in life.
"And you laughed when I said vinyl should make a comeback," he replied with an affected tsk of his tongue.
"Music is too abstract now," she continued, apparently choosing to ignore his comment. "It makes me think…where do all my ITunes folders even exist? In a cloud somewhere in the Above? What if they disappeared one day? I'd lose them all. But here, here, well, that's different isn't it? I have you and I have my record player and my little collection of LPs and they can never just vanish for no reason."
"You're a bit drunk, love."
"Little bit." She rolled onto her side to face him, smiling, beatific, murmuring the words to the song. "Kiss me, my heart of gold, whom I didn't grow old waiting for."
"With pleasure, darling wife –"
There was just no anticipating the timing of those damned future memories. Sarah blinked herself back into consciousness, half-drunk with the simple pleasure of that fading vision. What had she been doing? Oh, shit. She'd blacked out in the middle of her big speech.
But the boy was – amazingly – still alive, crouched on the bench at her feet. He was also closely surrounded by a pack of very interested goblins, but you couldn't be picky with what you woke up to find when monsters were involved.
"Luka, are you okay?" she murmured, ca reful not to move too fast for fear of spooking the creatures. They were huddled close and sniffing the boy's shoes like curious, devilish dogs.
"They've just been smelling me," he replied in a scared whisper. Then, more urgently: "What happened to you?"
"I'm sorry," she told him earnestly. "I have these visions sometimes and I can't control them." Raising her voice, Sarah addressed the goblins. "So – so you left the boy alone…"
King Killer said not to touch not to hurt.
"That's right, I did. You – you've passed the test. Well done. You've pleased your Queen." She fumbled over those last words, feeling silly no matter how her subjects seemed to respond happily. It occurred to her that she didn't quite know what to do next. They'd established some kind of equilibrium, in terms of respectful give and take. Yet she somehow didn't expect them to just disappear back to the City at her say-so.
"How do we get Eva back?" asked Luka in a small, polite voice.
Play the game take the test run the maze prove the need.
Sarah's half-smile vanished. "He's not running the Labyrinth," she told them sharply. "He doesn't need to."
The goblins blinked at her rapidly and stamped their feet and claws. They repeated their answer.
"I'm your Queen and I say we're not doing that 'thirteen hours to solve the Labyrinth' crap anymore. What's the point of it?"
Sort the worthy teach the ungrateful, came the surprisingly eloquent answer. Well, as articulate as it could sound, coming in the vocal equivalent of rocks in a blender.
"There are other ways to do that." Sarah laid a hand on Luka's shoulder; he was trembling. "I told you I'd be changing things."
Not this never this, they hissed, eyes flashing. One rule older than time lost to time never changed always the same always played always.
Something in their expressions told her she wouldn't win this fight. Well, I was bound to hit a wall somewhere, she thought. There was no way you could change so much in one day and expect it to go smoothly. "Then I'm going with him," she announced firmly, which caused just about the reaction she expected.
Not allowed not allowed never that not the leader King Killer no –
"All right!" she shouted, settling them down. "Okay. I didn't think that would fly."
"I thought I meant it..." Luka whispered beneath her. He sounded petrified. "I always mean things. But not this…poor Eva…" he started to cry.
The boy was more upset about failing his bully than having to run the Labyrinth on his own. Humans were amazing. Sarah sank to her knees on the bench and took a gentle hold of his shoulders. "Hey. Look at me kiddo." His quivering lip and wide eyes met hers, and she forced herself to exude control over the situation. "You can do this. You're a super smart kid, Luka. It won't be as hard as you imagine, if you just be very careful and think things over before you do anything. It's a big puzzle, really. Heck, I did it when I was just a kid too, and I did all right."
"But – but you said it was dangerous –"
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I promise."
"But – you're the Goblin Queen. Why are you on my side?"
"I'm not on anyone's side," she replied firmly, loud and clear for all to hear. "Got that?" She glanced at the goblins. "I'm not choosing sides; I'm just making sure the game is fair. So." She got to her feet, surveying her subjects, her monsters. "One more rule then: you say I'm not allowed to go with him? I say he's not allowed to go alone, and I get to pick one person to help him through. Because if he loses, Eva's name goes on the list and that's one more human's family to hold a grudge against you guys. And you don't want that, remember? So I'm going to even out the odds a bit. One human with a Fae to help him. If he loses, we get to keep Eva and she becomes a goblin. If he wins, Eva goes home and Luka gets to have a chat with her about all this bullying crap. And he can have as long as he likes to solve things." They were transfixed, deep in thought, ugly brows furrowed tenfold. "Do we have a new understanding?" Her grip on Luka's hand was painfully tight; she felt him wince beside her.
Understanding. Yes.
The relief made her legs want to buckle, but Sarah held on to all the strength she had. They were far from safe yet. She had to figure out just how the hell to get this all started without any magic. How was she even meant to transport them to the Labyrinth gates, the way Jareth had done so long ago? Eyes closed, it was hard not to feel the stirrings of panic. If she couldn't even move them to the Domain, wouldn't they start to think her that little bit less powerful? I need help.
"Wow. You're really the Goblin Queen."
"Hmm?" Opening her eyes, Sarah had to squint against the glare of the sudden sunlight. Sunlight that was far too ethereal to belong anywhere but in the Domain. "Oh," she breathed softly. "Yeah, I guess I am." They stood, as she had ten years ago, on the hills of a glittering windswept grassland. Nothing had changed and yet everything had. She stood in Jareth's place looking for all the world like a woman thrown randomly into a fantasy novel. But her appearance meant nothing; inside she felt empowered. They'd come this far just on the strength of her words, hadn't they? She'd done something that centuries of Fae hadn't been able to: change the minds of the goblins. And Luka stood where she had, at the crest of the hill, staring out over the maze in judgement. But he'd have help and be safe in the knowledge that the monsters couldn't touch him. And so would future runners. She couldn't help the proud smile that came, even if it was marred by the memory of all that had happened to lead her here.
"It's bigger than I thought it would be," Luka murmured, drawing her attention. He was only a slight little thing, all ankles and elbows with not much else to him. Standing beside the vast spread of the Labyrinth made him look positively tiny.
"Big deal," Sarah shrugged, purposefully turning her back to the maze. "You've got this in the bag, Luka."
"But you said it even made Batman cry."
Good one, Sarah. She'd only said that thinking he wouldn't have to run it if he didn't want to. "Did I? Well, that was before I showed those goblins who their boss is. And now that they have to leave you alone, I think it'll be a bit easier." She knelt down and took reassuring hold of his arms. "Why does Eva pick on you, hmm?"
He shrugged.
"I bet it's because you're smart. Kids are always jealous of intelligence. I bet you always know the answers in school."
"I read a lot," Luka replied sheepishly.
"Exactly. That gets you places. It teaches you how to use that brain properly. So now all you've got to do is make sure you use it. Think things through, okay Luka? I took away the time limit, so you can have as long as you like to solve the puzzles."
"You said I'd have help."
She nodded, standing, nervous. "And you will. I'm just about to go grab him. So there you go. Big brain, no time limit and a brave Fae to give you an extra hand. As I said: you've got this in the bag. Right?"
His smile was reluctantly hopeful. "Right."
"Good boy. Now wait here and I'll go to the Palace, fetch your assistant and send him to you."
"Thank you, your Majesty."
She grinned, hoping she looked more confident than she felt. "Call me Sarah."
As it turned out, he was quite a good card player.
"You sure you aren't cheating somehow?" Christopher asked, a dubious frown showing over his hand of cards.
"How would I be cheating?" Jareth enquired. "I've never played before. I'm not even certain I understand all the rules yet."
"Exactly!" the boy exclaimed. "How is it you're beating me and you've never even played Uno before?"
"Beginner's luck," he replied with a shrug, laying down a Draw Four which earned him another turn and a groan from Christopher. A bird was whistling in the tree above them. Jareth copied the tune while waiting for the boy to pick up. It was a nice afternoon, with enough sun to take the edge off the chilled wind. They were in Hyde Park, lounging on a picnic blanket with a stash of snacks and games. Con was working a long shift and they had little else to do. He leaned back against the tree trunk behind him and closed his eyes, whistling along. It was a pretty tune, somehow nostalgic and bright at the same time. He envisioned owl feathers scattering to the wind.
"Huh. Look at that."
"Hmm? What?" Jareth opened his eyes to find Christopher smiling and pointing at something just to the left of him. It was the bird, still whistling, only now hopping towards him as if curious. "Friendly little thing, isn't it?"
"He likes your song," the boy said, carefully edging around for a closer look.
"It wasn't my song," Jareth replied, stretching out a hand. The bird hopped backwards cautiously. "I was just copying his tune."
"At first, yeah. But then you started your own and he started copying you." There was an uncertain pause. "Didn't you notice that?"
Jareth frowned. "No, I didn't…" Where had he drawn that song from then?
"Um. Jareth?"
He looked up. The boy's mouth hung open, eyes huge and round, finger pointing at something behind him. "What -?" he asked sharply, turning around to find a woman standing by the tree.
She wore long skirts that rippled as she curtsied for him, and she was green. Not just the sickly shade you might find on someone ill, rather the colour of a pear that was not quite ripe enough to pick. From head to toe she was an unripe pear, bizarrely thin and sharp-angled. Her smile revealed pointed teeth, though it was polite enough to avoid a threatening feel.
Jareth and Christopher blinked to see if she would disappear as suddenly as she'd arrived.
"Your Royal Highness," she said in reserved tones, clear and calm and dutiful. "Forgive my intrusion. You've been summoned by the Goblin King. I'm to return you to the Palace immediately."
More than anything he wanted to laugh, but then why was he feeling like too much sense was about to be made? Why was he not staring at the woman the way Christopher was or laughing like passers-by as if some joke was being played out?
"Jareth…are you a King?" Christopher asked, barely containing his excitement. The boy had proven to harbour very little fear of the unusual.
"No," he replied shortly, though whether in response to the woman or the boy he didn't know. The bird had flown away, disinterested, taking his song with it.
"I've been told it's a matter of grave importance," the woman persisted. There was something annoyingly insipid in her expression, a lack of consciousness that irked him.
Getting to his feet he took care in straightening his jacket, smoothing away hair from his face. He studied her keenly, aware of the way she froze under his gaze. "What are you?"
"I'm an Elf, sir. A servant of the Palace. His Majesty Brynn Fel Vaden sent me to collect you."
"An Elf!" Christopher leapt to his feet joyously, but Jareth blocked his excited advance with an outstretched arm. "What? She's wicked! Look at her Jareth!"
"She's a stranger," he replied curtly.
"No stranger than you," the boy muttered, but kept back all the same. "Aren't you going to go with her?"
"And leave you on your own in the middle of the city? I don't think so. What would your mother have to say?"
"It's a park," Christopher argued with a roll of his eyes. "And I know the tube stations better than you do." He tugged on Jareth's jacket sleeve. "Besides, don't you want to know what's going on? She can tell you everything!"
"Actually I have no further information," the Elf – if that's what she was – ventured benignly. "I've just been told to you collect you, and that you must be quick because it's important."
"Well we'll go see this Brian Vader then, and he can tell us!"
"Christopher." Jareth's tone had an edge to it.
"What? What are you scared of?"
With the uncanny knack for truth that children often had, the boy had pinned Jareth like a fly to a wall. He was afraid. But of what? He'd been through nearly two weeks of feeling misplaced and stumbling through a world that didn't seem like his own. What could be worse than having no identity, no purpose? Hating the one you do find, he thought bitterly. What if his dreams were snippets of a terrible reality, of that world with monsters lurking in the dark and the woman always taunting him? What if he'd run away from it for a reason?
"Jareth?"
It was a different voice this time. A woman's, pure as the earth but burdened with emotion. Roused from his thoughts, he looked up to find someone emerging from a mirror that hadn't been there before. Christopher was in a manic state of joy beside him, jumping up and down, hanging restlessly off his jacket sleeve. Apparently this madness was everything a boy could hope for, but Jareth just felt cornered. The Elf stood to the side in the wake of the sun kissed creature stepping toward him. Everything about her was faded with sun exposure: her auburn air, rumpled clothes, skin that must have been milky white at some point long ago. The way she moved was reminiscent of a deer toward safety, wary but determined.
Jareth felt an outpouring of affection take over him; his heart hummed at the sight of her.
He had absolutely no idea who she was. "I don't –"
"You are Jareth El'Maven," she interrupted, hands outstretched, almost upon him. "You are the Prince of the Fae Domain, son of Mira and Jaster El'Maven –" she pressed one palm flat against his heart and the other next to it, curled in a fist. Her voice was a whisper, spoken into the crook of his neck as she filled the space in his arms. "You are my brother, and you remember."
At first, he didn't. A heated shiver tingled all the way down his spine. Her words seemed another language, something like the sounds of the forest put into song. But then they rearranged themselves, you remember, and he started to. Lina's hair smelt of red earth and clay beneath his chin; she was warmer than he, as it had always been. She fit into his arms just as she had mere weeks ago, and as she had a century before that. Memories came like a river running downstream, pouring into him, filling him with light and love and heartache and grief and desperation and the complex mix of emotion that was his entire Fae existence. And then: Sarah. Watching him over a book in the library; scratching his head when she thought him asleep; arguing until she was red in the face; laughing at the mess made by drunken goblins. Enough memories of the woman he would never see again to weigh him down.
"Lina," he sighed, crushing her against him tightly, inhaling the scent of the only other woman he'd ever loved. She was here, somehow, it wasn't a dream, and that was all that he could allow to matter.
She'd learnt three things upon finding herself transported to the Council Chambers.
Firstly, she was not magic.
Secondly, Brynn had been watching and performing spells for her the entire time she'd been with Luka.
Thirdly, the Fae Council was not impressed by her new title.
"Goblin Queen? A human? It's impossible!" declared the majority of them in varying degrees of outrage.
Sarah didn't have the patience for them just at the moment. She was too busy trying to comprehend the enigma that was Brynn Fel Vaden. "I don't understand why you'd do that," she said loudly over the Councillors, trying to make it clear she was ignoring them. The Goblin King stood before her with a small mirror in his hand, which apparently he'd been using to watch her attempts at playing out her role. "You're supposed to hate me. Why would you help me?"
"I'm not supposed to feel anything toward you," he replied curtly. "And yet I can't help but harbour a certain respect for the human who tamed the hordes without an ounce of magic in her veins."
"So you thought you'd just do some flashy illusions to give me a hand? Well I didn't need your help," she grumbled, picking at her shirtsleeve to avoid his gaze. "I was doing fine."
He was staring at her; she could feel it like an itch. "Why has this upset you so much?"
"Because –" but there wasn't a rational reason why she was upset. It was too sentimental for a Fae to understand. Because I'm never going to see Jareth again. Because I thought, with what he'd done, that he'd somehow transferred his powers to me. Because I thought that I had a part of him with me. And it turns out I have nothing. "I just – thought I could do fine on my own, that's all."
"You've done more than fine," Brynn told her levelly. His compliments were confusing: they often held no more emotion than if he were telling her the sky was blue. "But there are technicalities to this role that seem beyond your capabilities, vast as they are."
"She's human," hissed the tight-faced Councillor who resembled Brynn quite a lot. "The fact that she can't even perform a simple transportation should be enough to make you see the absurdity of this."
"And yet I had the goblins eating out of my hands before I ever needed a few magic tricks for effect," Sarah replied coolly.
"She does have a point, Lady Ezra," murmured one of the other Councillors.
"She would have the point of a sword through her, if it were up to me!" Ezra said heatedly. Her face was turning a rather undignified shade of red.
"A dagger in the back didn't stop her," replied another. "What makes you think a sword will do any better?"
The group of them closed into a tight circle and began a heated discussion, which suited Sarah just fine, who had her own things to deal with.
"So I'm to be this boy's assistant now, am I?"
Surprised, she met Brynn's curious expression with a wry smile. If she didn't know any better she'd say he was almost amused, but that just wouldn't be him. "So you were paying attention then," she replied, drawing him aside from the other Fae. She folded her arms around herself. "I couldn't let him do it alone," she admitted quietly. "I saw Jareth's face every time he came back from that maze. It's changed since I ran through it. I'm not letting a kid go through that on his own."
Brynn's grey eyes flicked over the Fae arguing amongst themselves. A subtle frown pinched the corners of his mouth; if she hadn't been watching she wouldn't have noticed it appear. "You are ruled by sentiment," he murmured in a tone that could very well have been disapproval.
"It's done me well so far, hasn't it?" she countered defiantly.
Did that frown disappear? It was hard to tell. The planes of his face were so hard. "It's led you to this point, I'll admit. But time will tell if I've made the wrong decision."
"What decision?"
"To follow you."
Sarah snorted. "I'm not asking for followers," she told him. "I just want someone tough to help a boy through a scary maze. I'm not starting a revolution."
"Aren't you?"
No, she wanted to say. I'm a twenty-five-year-old librarian. I'm not the leader of some fairy-world political party. But then what had she been doing here for the past few months, if not changing the Fae Domain from the inside out? She'd broken sacred laws, made trouble for those in power, undermined Kings and Queens alike, made changes to a system that was older than her own grandfather. Wasn't that what revolutionaries did?
He took her silence as meaningful. "If I take part in this, it will be under your command," he told her seriously. "This is not a small happenstance, Sarah."
"But – but I killed your Queen!" she exclaimed. "How can you want to follow me?"
"I'm loyal to a fault," he said with a shrug. "And that fault may well be that my loyalty dies when my leader does."
"That's not very reassuring."
He shrugged again. It was a stiff gesture from such a tightly-coiled figure. "It's all you've got."
"Fair enough. So you'll do it then? Go make sure Luka gets through this okay?"
He nodded. "I'll do my best."
She thanked him earnestly, and then hesitated. "So what now? You go help him and I just sit with the support squad over there and wait?"
He held the mirror out for her. It was a small square thing, silver plated and rather plain. In its reflection gleamed a tiny image of Luka on the hill, waiting in the wind. Her heart went out to him. "You keep watch," he said. "Over him and your goblins."
"I didn't want to do it, just so you know," she told him in a murmur, returning his gaze with what she hoped was an honest and regretful expression. "It was Keel that she pushed too far, in the end. Keel needed me to go along with it…" she traced a thumb along the ridges of the mirror, muscles twitching with the sudden urge to sob. "But I just couldn't do it, I couldn't – and now they're both gone anyway, after everything…"
"You are capable of many things, Sarah Williams," Brynn told her after a moment of soft silence. "But I didn't quite believe that murder was one of them. What happened to the Elf was unfortunate, but I do think it will mean changes you can't fathom just yet."
She didn't want to have to fathom anything. Sleeping for the rest of her life in a big comfortable bed seemed a good idea right then. But no, there was still work to do, always something, and so Sarah cradled the mirror close and took a seat on the floor. When Brynn disappeared she huddled over the scenery in the glass, waiting for him to appear. "Good luck," she murmured once the pair were in conversation on the hill. After a short while, when they'd gone through the gates together, she felt someone standing behind her. "Have you decided to stick a knife in me yet?" she asked casually over her shoulder, eyes glued to the mirror.
"We've decided against it for now." The voice was smooth and deep, yet distinctly female. It belonged to a Fae adorned in so much silver that she seemed to glow with it. Her hair was the colour of ivory, eyes pale grey; she wore an array of bracelets that jangled as she took a seat beside Sarah. Even sitting on the floor she was graceful, feet tucked delicately beneath the folds of her silver gown. She blinked slowly at Sarah through long lashes that were framed by shimmering facial marks. "I can't say we didn't discuss it at length."
"At lease you're honest," Sarah replied dryly, determined to ignore the feeling that she was no more than a baby next to the glimmering Fae.
"And so are you, it seems," the woman replied, making no effort to hide her scrutiny of Sarah. "My companions don't think it appropriate for a human to be Goblin Queen."
"And you do?"
The bracelets jangled together again like chimes; she swept a lock of hair from her shoulders. "I understand their concerns for tradition," she replied slowly. "But I also listen to reason over ritual. The fact that Brynn Fel Vaden has taken to you speaks volumes, even if the others refuse to hear."
"I wouldn't say he's taken to me," Sarah replied offhandedly. "He's pretty much a stone. I think he respects me, as much as a stone can respect anything."
"He think more highly of you than you know; you don't understand our world."
"I don't think I ever will," Sarah murmured quietly, eyes flicking back to the mirror. "The things you people do…I've seen a lot dark stuff since I've been here." Jareth splattered in blood. The list of a hundred dead children. Keel with her eyes so full of fire, even as she died. "I don't think I'll ever be the same."
"You can't hope to be an efficient ruler if you're affected by every little thing that happens to you."
"I don't believe that," Sarah told her firmly. "How can you live for hundreds of years and not change the way you think about things? That's a pretty close-minded way to exist. No wonder you need our dreams to keep you going."
"So you're happy to suffer, then? You enjoy being weighed down by all your unpleasant experiences?"
"That's not what it's about." In the mirror, Luka was treading lightly through the maze in search of unseen openings. Brynn wasn't far behind him, reserved and stiff-shouldered as ever. "You learn more from hardships if you experience them on emotional levels. You learn more about people, and about yourself and your community…I wouldn't have been able to do what I did with the hordes if I'd been going through life the way Fae do. I can see things you can't, things you refuse to see."
"Such as?"
"How much potential humans have, how brave and strong and compassionate we are. How you should respect us, and maybe be a little afraid too, if necessary. We're not stupid just because we're not as old as you." Luka had found an opening into the second part of the maze and was carefully feeling his way through. Smart boy. Brynn hardly seemed to move, following silently along, yet she had the feeling he was on guard. "And that goes for Elves too, by the way."
Elves.
"Oh crap, Wick!" she exclaimed, "I forgot about Wick!"
"What's a Wick?" asked her Fae companion irritably.
"He's my friend and he's been waiting for me to – crap, I forgot – Wick! Wick, my Elf friend! I'm calling on you! I need you!"
The Council had whirled around to stare at her as she shouted, so the poor Elf arrived with more than a few sharp eyes trained on him. Not that he seemed to notice, jumping out of a mirror and throwing himself at Sarah with abandon.
"I've been looking everywhere!" he cried, almost angry in his desperation. His grip was painful; hard angles and bones jutted against her. "I thought you were dead; I thought we'd have to storm the castle to rescue you or – or – Fates Above, you've got problems with communication, Sarah Williams –" the sight of the Council made him freeze instantly.
She patted his back, amused and overjoyed, because it had been too long since she'd heard that wonderfully snarky True Self voice.
"Sarah," the Elf murmured in a panicked tone. "We're – we're in the Council Chambers. The – the Fae Council –"
"It's all sorted," she told him quickly, hugging him reassuringly. He was sharp and thin in her arms but she couldn't bring herself to let go. "At least for now. I don't know what's going to happen when Luka and Brynn get back."
It seemed they were an island, the two of them in a midst of Fae with only each other for support. They stood together, arms encircling one another, both too overwhelmed to move. "Everything's gone crazy, Wick," she whispered against his cheek, finally able to voice her worries to someone who would care. "I don't want to be the Goblin Queen. I can't do this. I just want…I just want to go home and cry. I'm sick of being strong."
"It's strange…Keel says that a lot with her eyes. I can tell, even if she's never spoken it aloud."
Oh, god. Keel. She'd forgotten. How had she forgotten? "Wick," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "I…Keel…she –"
"I can feel it," he murmured hoarsely, suddenly tense in her grasp. "I've been feeling it for hours now, but I wasn't…I didn't realise what it…" He pressed his face into the top of her head. "She was my blood, Sarah. My blood."
"I know. I'm sorry, Wick. I'm so sorry." It's my fault. Tell him! Tell him it's your fault. Her cheek was damp against his collarbone. "I think it was…she died saving my life. Mira…the Queen –"
"It always comes back to her." His voice harder than it had been before. She found herself standing without his support, skin growing cold with his sudden distance. "I'm glad she's dead. I hope she died slowly –"
"Wick," Sarah hissed, eyeing the Councillors flashing him dangerous glares. "Be careful –"
He shrugged off her attempt to touch him. "I hope it hurt!" he cried. "I don't care! I hope she felt every second of the last few miserable moments of her wretched, unfeeling life –"
The Fae were advancing on him with murder in their eyes, cries of outrage pouring forth. "You overstep your place, Elf!" one of them snapped. "Just because the Williams girl is here –"
"He's grieving!" Sarah interrupted, throwing her arms wide as if to keep them at bay. Wick wept behind her. She stood between him and the Fae. "He's lost someone he loves! Yes, I'm the Williams girl and I'm here, so you'd better believe I won't let you touch him. Back the hell off!"
To her surprise, they did. Or maybe that wasn't such a surprise anymore, given the command she seemed to be accruing. They didn't stop glaring, or uttering threats, but they did halt their advance and regroup in a circle. Only the silver Fae kept apart, eyeing Sarah and Wick curiously. Sarah paid none of them any further attention. She threw her arms around Wick, trying to convey that he wasn't alone in his grief.
How was he supposed to grieve the loss of such a complicated relationship?
The simple answer was that he didn't. And in truth, if Jareth was really honest, he could hardly summon the energy to feel much over the fact of his mother's death. The cost of agonising over every little detail of their relationship for the last two centuries was not worth the small scrap of closure it would afford. So when Lina told him about Mira's murder he had nothing to say. He felt hollow inside – with a distinct lack of emotion, not with loss. He drew her further into his arms and inhaled the smell of his gritty spring sister.
"Are you all right?" Lina asked him.
"She hasn't been our mother for a long time. I've hated her too much to grieve now. What about you?"
"I just…missed Fa, when they told me. And then I asked where you were." Her voice was small but sure against his throat, pressed into his neck. Her grip around his waist restricted his breathing. "I thought you were dead you idiot," she hissed. "They wouldn't tell me what happened, and I hadn't heard from you, and you – you were up here, playing cards with a child and singing to the birds as if nothing was amiss!"
"Are you mad at me? For being banished, Lina?" He smiled into the top of her hair.
When she pulled back to look at him there was no hint of amusement on her face. "No, I just...I'm trying to distract us," she said quietly.
"From what?"
"What I have to tell you."
He felt as if a Domain winter wind had just brushed down his spine. "What?"
"It's about Sarah. She's running the Labyrinth, Jareth."
A thousand teeth and the hot stench of fresh blood and the decay of life and vile creatures stalking shadows – "Why? Who did she wish away? What happened?" There was a bitter taste in the back of his throat; panic infused his every nerve. "I have to go to her. Nobody survives the Labyrinth anymore –" she blocked his path and took a firm hold of his wrist, keeping him in place.
"She's not a runner, Jareth. She's running it."
He blinked slowly. "I don't understand."
"Sarah is the Goblin Queen," she told him sadly. "Or at least, she's trying to be. I don't know what's happened since we've been here."
"Brynn put her on the Throne?" he snarled, vicious fury licking his insides with fire. What was the bastard playing at, messing with her like that? "He put my Sarah in charge of that slaughterhouse? I'll strip the skin from him like an orange, I'll rip his throat out and feed him to the hordes –"
Lina shook his arm roughly. "He didn't put her in power, Jareth," she told him loudly, cutting off his heated tirade. "The goblins did. They demanded that she be their leader."
"What?"
"Something's happening that we need to be a part of. Everything's about to change because of her."
Jareth stared at Lina, enfolding her calloused hand in his own. She was filthy and looked exhausted. She was beautiful and she would be Queen. "You're the heir to the Domain Throne, Lina…"
She smiled without mirth. "Yes. But you know, I didn't come here just to see my brother. I think Sarah's going to need you."
Something fluttered deep in his soul at the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he would be with Sarah in the end. Whatever 'the end' promised. "Not half as much as I've needed her," he murmured.
"Wow."
The two Fae were stirred from their conversation by an excited clapping. The Elf had vanished, apparently finding herself made redundant, but Christopher stood grinning at them with pure childish joy. "That was the coolest thing I've ever seen," he said emphatically, jumping on the spot. "Jareth, you're a Prince! And your girlfriend is the Goblin Queen, and your sister is a princess and – and – I can't believe you didn't remember any of this, it's mad –"
"Christopher," Jareth cut in, kneeling before the boy. "Believe me, I'm very happy I could fulfil your boyhood imaginings…but you need to keep it a secret for me. A little discretion, hmm?"
His grin didn't waver in the slightest but he forced his wriggling body into stillness. Leaning in conspiratorially, Christopher patted Jareth on the shoulder. "Gotcha," he whispered loudly with a wink. "You know, besides the fact your sister and a green girl just came through a magical mirror in the middle of Hyde Park."
Lina snorted behind them. "He's got a point, brother. It's a little late for discretion."
"Oh." They were being stared at. The boy's enthusiasm had brought some attention. "And who's fault is that, sister?" Jareth straightened and blew the hair from his face.
"I wasn't waiting around in that Palace when I knew you were here!"
"It doesn't matter," Jareth replied with a wave of his hand. "I can unravel my time here when we leave."
"Does…does that mean I'll forget you?" Christopher asked, disappointed.
"I'll spare you, Super Boy," he assured him with a wink. "Though for his own good, I'll let Con forget me. I think I caused the poor lad enough trouble."
"Visit me, won't you?"
"Of course, little man. I'll be around from time to time."
Lina put a hand on Jareth's shoulder. "We should go."
He nodded, making a motion with his hand to conjure up a gateway.
Nothing happened.
Frowning, Jareth tried again. Still nothing. He tried unravelling the threads of Time around his last few weeks here. He tried just conjuring an apple, to see if he could. The memories of how to perform spells were still there in his mind but he couldn't do anything with them. "Hmm."
"I'll do it," Lina said hurriedly, taking his arm. "You're probably a little rusty. It'll come to you, don't worry."
He nodded, buoyed along by his sister's reassuring presence and the promise of finding Sarah again. But as Lina conjured the gateway and they stepped through, he felt no single touch of the magic that had once surrounded him.
