A/N: Please R&R, reviews keep me in the writing zone!
The familiarity of his surroundings should have helped to keep him calm, but then the walls around him were not as he remembered. He'd ran from the girl after the ground had swallowed her in a frantic attempt to stay alive... only to find himself faced with a new predicament. Which he was doing his best to ignore in favour of trying to gather his bearings. The walls were far more delapidated than he remembered which only made him more nervous, and there was a distinct lack of life. The plants had wilted. Most had died. There was old stone and brick now littering the path through the gigantic sprawling maze where they had once lined it instead on either side within the now crumbling walls. And for some strange reason Toby was feeling the loss on a personal level. The state of things had him melancholy and aching... as if someone had smashed his prized gameboy in front of his face.
"He doesn't look like a threat, anyway. Not the way Eanraig described."
And the place wasn't bathed in warm golds and pinks like he thought he remembered. The sky overhead was murky and grey, and with that had bled the colour of the Labyrinth and the Goblin King's Kingdom. There was a distinct... wrong feeling about it. That made him want to demand an explanation, or to get his Mom to. Hell, even Sarah would have been his go to in order to get this mess sorted. But she didn't know about this place; No one knew about this place. Because he was dreaming. And it wasn't real. And it was all down to the multipack of cheetos he'd scoffed while reading his Sister's stupid red book about weird men in too-tight trousers.
"He still shouldn't be here, Baran, or have you forgotten the laws of our people so soon?"
The ground underneath him was cold and unforgiving, and it startled him as he braced himself on his hands to either side of his legs. The chill crept through his jeans like biting needles and he huffed at it, swinging up onto his knees, and finally looked up at the two figures barring any immediate escape. Panic began to rise until it gripped him fully and his eyes slid from their statures to the weapons strapped to their sides, then to their stern expressions, then back down as their fingers flexed within their gloves.
A shriek left the boy as a pair of invisible hands descended on him, then they grew to surround him so he was forcibly pinned in his place. A moment later pain lanced through his legs and he found himself deposited back on his backside with his legs yanked straight out in front of him, ankles together. He tried to scream for help but the sound was cut from his throat prematurely by a cord he couldn't see, leaving him gaping, then the blond of the pair scoffed in disgust and turned to his partner and growled something in a language he didn't understand. The other one pulled a face in response, but answered in heavily accented English.
"...Well? He was hurting my ears, Arlyn. I had forgotten how easily scared mortals tend to be... we were barely even looking at him."
"He has reason to be afraid; we are heavily armed besides our magic, and you just forced his legs from under him."
"You were already holding him still in a position that is saved for hostages. He is even less of a threat when seated."
"He is a hostage, Baran! He is trespassing, has broken past all of Jareth's wards, and we have no idea how he's doing it!"
"Semantics. We will get our answers; ...At least I can hear you now."
Baran glanced at Toby for a second and twitched his finger, and Toby felt his mouth close of its own accord, his teeth clacking. A strangled sound came from his throat but under the scrutinising stares from his captors, it died.
His panic rose even higher although confusion was warring to take its place, his eyes darting about frantically still searching for an escape. He wasn't trespassing! He was dreaming. And while he had wanted an interruption or distraction, even, to take him away from the horror he had witnessed not so long ago, this hadn't been the rescue he had sought. It still wasn't. But even the first time he'd turned up here and had been found by the weird platinum-blond guy... this force hadn't happened... and the men in front of him didn't seem to be kidding around. Where was Sarah? What had happened to the crying girl? Who was the crying girl?
The pair were bickering in hushed voices, but every time he so much as tried to swallow, they'd pause to look at him. So he went back to looking around him again- from what little he could see in his current vantage point since he couldn't turn his head- and would have frowned if he could. He was farther from the Castle than the last time his dreams had brought him to this place. He couldn't see or smell the tiny, ugly things that were allowed to roam free here but had disappeared when the man had appeared. If the book wasn't lying- and these men weren't, either- and that was where this dream had taken him, the things were goblins?... and honestly he'd have preferred a hoarde of them to the reception he currently had. How far in the maze was he?
Shouldn't Male-Barbie have been here too, then? He had been here the last time Toby had appeared in the decrepit land. Jareth, wasn't it? Somehow though, he had the feeling that asking that question would only make his current situation worse. Which for Toby... was quite an intelligent thought. And he took a moment to feel proud about it while the pair were distracted. He was slowly figuring this out.
The almost leash-like feeling around his throat dissipated, taking his momentary pride with it, and he sucked in a large lungful of air and tried not to let his fright take over. It was a small moment before he felt stable again and he coughed before shooting them both his most petulant of looks. In all the kidnapping films he'd seen, this was generally where the interrogation began. But he was smarter than those film heroes, and he had a better family. He wasn't going to give them what they wanted without a fight, and since his hands had been unfairly bound, he would fight with words. HAdn't Sarah always said that words had power?
"I'm not saying anything to you without a lawyer present. I have a right to legal council," he began haughtily, straining against his invisible restraints to try to lift his chin, "And you can't keep me here without solid grounds for arrest, as there are no signs saying this is private land."
Sarah had taught him that last year, after he'd accidentally been caught at the wrong place and the wrong time by their local cops. There'd been some mixup with a band of teenagers moments before, and he'd turned up in the same place by sheer coincidence as the police had arrived while walking Merlin.
Arlyn's brow rose at his words, before turning to look at Baran.
Baran was still staring at Toby as if trying to determine what kind of creature he was and what kind of hole he had crawled out from. Essentially, the Fae's usual expression of puzzlement, only slightly heavier.
After a few more moments, he opened his mouth... then closed it again. Then finally his lips parted oncemore, to deliver one word, and one word only. "...What?!"
"I said: I'm not saying anything to you without a lawyer present."
"But you are speaking now, you-"
"A lawyer?" Arlyn intercepted neatly, glaring at his Northern Comrade for a second, "We do not have lawyers in Albion, boy."
Toby gaped for another moment then pulled a face of confused disgust. "Legal council, then. Every country has Legal Council. Even weird places like this." He didn't exactly know where Albion was on the atlas but he was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps they didn't know what the word 'lawyer' meant.
Arlyn scratched his jaw, still watching him through golden eyes. "We have monarchs here, and they each hold their own council. Unless you're in Terauramulis, in which case you face the high council. But again, Albion does not assign specific councils to a single mortal as they are only assigned to royalty and nobility. Why do you require them to be present in order to talk?"
The boy frowned again. "So... you're pretty far off the grid then? Mom said royalty were a dying idea. So you have to be further away from everyone than like... Australia, then," Toby decided, scoffing, "See, in real countries, we have these people who defend you when you break laws. They fix things like wrong arrests. And would advise me not to speak to you. So I'm not."
Baran growled, muttering from the corner of his mouth to the other, "Choill would have taken him out by now. He's mocking us."
'Choill... as in Choilleach? Do they know the man who came to our house?'
Arlyn ignored him, "Tell me, boy; who are you and what is your business here? Surely your... your lawyer would allow as much?"
Toby looked between them both, and finally sagged in relief as he was slowly released back to himself. Baran scowled and took a few steps away to lean against one of the walls, folding his arms tightly across his broad chest, but made no move to intervene and Toby decided to drop the idea of questioning them about the strange man he'd met previously. This... was slightly more even ground. Whatever happened now was between him and The Other Blond. He played with his fingers as the blood flowed freely to them again and tried to sound as grown up as possible. He was 12, practically an adult. Or at least, he supposed, he would be in a few months when he turned 13.
He cleared his throat. "My name is Tobias- Toby- Williams and I am not here, I am asleep. Right now. In my bed. Or possibly on the couch.. no, pretty sure I made it to bed."
Arlyn swore quietly and backed away, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth just as Baran suddenly pushed off from the wall and strode over, swinging forward and crowding his space. A meaty hand flashed out and grasped his shoulder before he had the chance to scramble away from the man, weighing heavily enough that he dared not move in case it broke his shoulder from the rest of his body. He swallowed. This "good cop/bad cop" routine was getting a little intense.
"...Williams?" Baran demanded quietly, granite eyes boring into him. Toby gulped again and nodded, but instead of being released, the man's hold tightened.
"...List your immediate familial connections, Tobias. Now."
Toby looked for Arlyn, but the fae had turned his back on him, so he was left to return his gaze. Why did his family matter? Was this because of that strange man a few nights ago? Had his parents done something wrong? Who had that man been?
"My Dad is Robert Williams. My Mom is Karen Williams. Have they do-"
"All of your family, Tobias. Quickly now, before I lose my patience. Questions from you can come later."
He didn't know his Aunt's very well... nor his Uncles. If he had cousins he didn't know them. He frowned. That only left...
"I have a sister but she doesn't live with us- though she's living with us now because she's taking a break from college. Her name is Sara-"
His mouth was shut so fast his teeth clattered and ached, and then he fell over as he was released.
Baran strode over to Arlyn and they began talking quickly again. They had gone weirdly pale, and the blonde one looked worried. The dark haired one looked sick. And the only thing he could make out from the exchange made his stomach drop.
"...Eanraig was right. Something is wrong, we have to take him like we were ordered. Before Jareth returns."
"But he's in Terauramulis. In an hour's span, it will be too dark to see true in the midlands. Surely... he wouldn't-"
"I was told that Yennifer was the last to seek to speak to him, and the token has just grown warm. Whatever was said must have displeased our friend."
Toby swallowed thickly, his heartbeat picking up again. His teeth were grinding with the force of which his jaw was being held closed by that stupid invisible force, and he was too afraid to bring anymore attention to his already "troublesome" existence. Take him where? Why had Sarah's name been taken as almost blasphemous? Were his parents in danger?
"But this makes no sense; The boy is solid... not just a psychological projection. Yet Jaque would have reported the boy leaving the Williams residence, and Jareth would have been alerted of a mortal gaining entrance to his realm. Neither of which have happened."
Toby tried to frown, his muscles screaming with the effort, at that statement. As far as reoccurring dreams went, this one was one of his least favourite. He'd been hurt, interrogated, judged and pushed around... all for being somewhere in his sleep that he had no control over.
Baran's brow furrowed, his mouth twitching south at the corner as his expression grew soft. "Is... is the portal still in operation?"
"No. It was reported severed a short time ago, just before I met with you here, though no one is sure how. The-" Arlyn glanced at Toby again over his shoulder and lowered his voice further- "The other one apparently hasn't taken it so well."
"She never used it. A gift as priceless as that, and it has sat unopened since just after it arrived. Why would the loss affect her?"
"...Baran, sometimes you really make me wonder how you came to be married, let alone a King in your own right. You know little of women, let alone empathy."
"Why deny our existence and that of our world if she felt so? Why hate us so fervently?"
"I believe the blame is to lay at the feet of fear and confusion, not to mention her father and the boy's mother were hardly receptive. But enough of this; it is not our place to deliberate over these things alone. We have orders."
"All I am saying is that Jaret-"
Arlyn's gloved hand suddenly raised, pausing him mid-sentence. "Quiet... do you feel that? The wards are loosening. He's nearly home," he quickly interrupted, turning his head finally to look at Toby, "We have to take the boy, now."
Toby tried to shake his head, to scrabble backwards as fast as he could and run. All he succeeded in doing was flopping over onto his stomach and noisily inhaling the path's dust into his nostrils. This did nothing to inhibit either of the men, and a moment later he saw the floor quickly pan away as he was bodily hoisted off of it and onto one of the men's shoulders as if he weighed nothing.
"There's no way of transporting him the way we usually do; it will be too slow. We'll need to do it the flashy way," the back he leaned on rumbled, and he got a mouthful of cloth as the man stepped forward suddenly. The smell contrasted their surroundings so vividly... it smelled of cold weather, and woodsmoke. Like an outside bonfire... in December. With a side of horse.
He gagged, spluttering and coughing against the fabric, but didn't have time to take in a true lungful of air before the air at the back of his legs started bubbling, then the two kidnappers stepped into it, and he passed out.
Long fingers with manicured nails traced over the wooden scrollwork, following it's intricate design to its finish at the end of the ornate mantlepiece. A carved depiction of a past war that had ravaged Albion and almost left it on its knees shone from where the fire's light bathed it, keeping the wood warm, and large eyes spanned the artwork with a critical gaze.
While aesthetically pleasing, it was an ugly thing, and it was hard to believe that this furnishing was loved by anyone, let alone a noble. The craftsmanship may have been beautiful but its content was not. Why make such a thing the room's feature piece, when one could have elaborate paintings of a more peaceful time in its stead? It was unnerving. And it caused the hairs on the backs of the fae's swarthy arms to rise proud of her skin.
It was more than simply carved wood; it held a magical presence that didn't resound with her own. Instead it was far darker, colder, and it was jarring. This wasn't the first time that the castle had disquieted her, nor its inhabitants. It wasn't the darkness and the mists that surrounded the Isle and pressed in on the cool bricks from all sides, for she had been a ward in these parts for half a millenia before rising into her role to help the Lord and his daughter. That was part of what she knew to be home and would generally put her at ease. It was the silence. The secrets. The unexplainable happenings that she wasn't allowed to enquire after. Today, the furnishings. With a quiet sigh, Aliannah turned away to let the fire warm the back of her skirts, and folded her hands as she waited to be received.
This would be a sparing meeting, compared to those previous since she had taken up her post on Earth. There was very little to report, yet again, for her 'charge' had yet to return to the University since all but absconding at dawn a week or so previous. Why she was to be here tonight, she did not know, for neither her Lady nor her father had deigned to divulge such information in her summons. In fact, her Lady's swift return from her trip to the Capital had her a little off guard for her missive had stated that she'd be absent for a few days. Pressing her full lips together, the fae pushed any doubts or questions away with a long breath, and focused her dark eyes on the candles sitting on the table before her. Questions weren't going to help her. They never had. Her place was to answer questions, not ask them.
The door finally opened again and she looked up at the newcomer, dipping into a formal curtsy and averting her eyes. They lingered in the dark space behind the figure, then finally lifted before the door shut once more.
The moons had begun their ascent in earnest when the owl appeared above the tree line to the southern border, its flight graceful and silent. Many eyes turned to watch its progress towards the looming castle, many from the city outside it, and a few from the maze that lined them both. There were some frowns and a great amount of muttering as the goblins ushered each other back inside and pulled their doors and window shutters closed, then the owl disappeared through one of the balconies in the highest point and was lost from view.
Jareth staggered to a stop within his chambers, narrowly missing crashing into his desk as his boots hit the floor hard and unbalanced. His breath was ragged and his chest heaved as he braced his weight on the wooden top and used it to manoeuvre himself past, his teeth bared in a hiss at the pain that lanced up his legs. The feeling- or lack of- within his chest had yet to recede, and he pressed a gloved hand to it as he slowly progressed towards his bathroom and away from any of the entrances to his rooms.
A cold wind stirred outside, bringing in a cold draught with smells from his decaying land, cutting out any other sound as it rushed past the open space of his window. A shiver ran down to the base of his spine, goosebumps erupting across his skin as if a cold pair of hands had coaxed them. Taking any shred of warmth from his quarters as he traversed across them until the chill began to settle inside.
He'd felt the mirror break just as he had taken off. The splintering glass had been felt within his magic as if someone had broken something internally within him, and the backlash had made his journey all the more turbulent. He had fed into that mirror for nearly a century- for the last ten Earth years- and the pain he had been hit with couldn't be shrugged off. Nor could the empty silence.
In the past, it had always felt like a pause before an answer, waiting on her sitting down at the vanity with the intent of trying to contact someone. Her friends. Him. Now it was not just an absence of noise... but of presence too. She was no longer there just out of reach, at the tips of his ever-stretching fingers. No more a part of him, nor he a part of her.
Jareth kicked off his boots and left them in his wake as he continued on towards the spacious en suite, loosening his shirt from his jodhpurs and wrenching it over his head to cast aside. It shouldn't matter. It didn't matter. She had been a mistake, a thorn in his side twisting ever deeper with each passing moon's turn. The girl was of no relevance and hadn't been for much too long. No more would he tarry within these walls staring into a crystal vision of her. No longer would his flat eyes roam his land as he retraced her path in her desperate plight to save the child, blind to how the land was dying, unseeing of its suffering under his still hands. She had ran and she had won, and in doing so she had taken the life from this realm and from him. Had touched too many lives and he had let them go unchecked.
Those that had helped her hadn't seen him since her departure and he knew that had been worse than any other punishment he could have dealt. They didn't stray near the stone walls of his city, daren't look up at the looming form of his castle for fear that after all this time his wrath may lay unto them. After a few decades they drifted from each other back to their respective places and tasks, farewells lying in the air behind them unsaid. The troll had retreated back within the forest that bordered his Kingdom and the Llín eile Coille to where the Fireys dwelled. Sir Didymus had taken his mutt back to the verge of the Bog of Eternal Stench and once more taken up the mantle of commanding the bridge's crossers. And Hogwart... Jareth hadn't even looked to see where the ugly, conspiring dwarf had gone.
None of it mattered. What was said, was said. What was done, was done. The King realised he was once more at war, of another kind than usual. He found that he didn't care any longer. About his land, his titles, his allegiances and his vows. His bonds. His responsibility. Yet he also cared too much to the point he couldn't bring himself to turn around and see the state of life outside and how it now sat. A plague of ignorance gripped the maze that sprawled miles in either direction and it rotted the brick that made it, gave no purchase to any life. Much that had once called it home had left, departed, either willingly or through death. The magic... had receded. And now he had to fix it, one way or another, for soon it would not just be his home. Would not just be his kingdom. The thought was emotionless, purely logical and practical. It just was.
He was now betrothed, his mind would have to conform. Tomorrow he would have to be seen to take the required steps within this new courtship, to make plans for his Kingdom and his future, as well as that of his subjects. The land outside these walls was crying out for help, for salvation. It needed care. It needed him at his best, in order to fix what he had done. That meant his mind would have to change roles and he would have to believe in these new plans as if they had been his to make all along. The time for mourning was up. This would not be a marriage for love but for necessity, for duty, and that suited him well. It wasn't unheard of, though it was uncommon. His kind were emotional to a fault, so many joinings were for love and prosperity. Devotion to a lifelong mate. And that had become his undoing, his double edged sword, so Jareth had to be willing to see this through. His line had to continue, his land and his titles needed an heir to pass on to. The heir that had rights to his throne did not know of them and had been an unconventional choice, so he would be unrecognised to step up now. The opportunity had long passed and he was content to let the words fall on deaf ears and fall into the past to become buried in the dust of time. Toby... had been a promising child. Inquisitive. Instinctual. Had even bore a resemblance to himself. And with his parting from his sister, he had parted from the boy as well as he came to the cusp of adulthood. The years where he would need a strong guiding hand. And he knew his parents were, and would always be, incapable of giving him what he needed.
Gloved fingers tugged at the laces of his trousers, and moments later they were kicked to join his other garments along the far wall. His pale blond tresses ghosted over his bare collarbone as his bare feet hit polished marble and he crossed over his bathing room to its far wall. Covering the ceiling was a lake of water, rippling and calm, barely trickling down. The wall was different from the others; it was made of dark brick. The same brick used when he had single-handedly built his Labyrinth, layer by layer, day by day by hand and sealed with magic. There were veins of green running through it and he let his tired eyes focus on them as he headed for it, his lips set in a thin line. Naming Toby his heir had been a temporary measure. He had been willing to take on the child as his own ward if not his own son for Her, so her efforts wouldn't be for nought. Would have kept him human instead of turning him, if it was her wish, if she had failed. Even though he had made every effort to help her win while willing her to give up. So she would know that regardless of what was said, the innocent wouldn't be harmed. And now the boy returned as a mirage to taunt him. Pervading into the sanctity of his mind until he began to doubt it, began to question himself. His single weakness had been exploited. And in order to bring it to an end, he had had to give up everything once more.
There was but a single window near the top of the twelve foot, brick wall. It was circular, small, latticed so the light shining in was filtered and broken so he was never greeted with harsh sunlight each morning when he arose. Now it was letting in a greyish light, tinged with pink, signalling the final notes of the day, and he lifted his eyes to it as its light highlighted his pale form. The three walls it overlooked were bathed in the weak light but the one he faced stood dark, untouched by all but the water overhead. Here, besides his breathing, the only other sound was the barest drops of water. In a time where his mind was in turmoil, churning regret and apathy, this was to be his sanctuary. Alone. Unseen. Unheard. Stepping into the wall's shadow.
Bracing his forearms against the wall, he curled his hands, and the body of water overhead came down upon him in earnest like a monsoon. The water cleaned as it ran from the floor back up the far wall to continuously regroup above, and he dropped his head to his arms as his body tensed to the point of screaming for release. Emotional. Everything he had suppressed all this time, all these centuries, since he had left the Spire as a faeling. Since Sarah had left him, too young to understand what had been on offer and at stake. When he had given her his heart as a promise for the future, as a bargaining chip for her to stay with him so he would no longer be alone. The first soul in a millenia to touch his own. To really make him feel alive. And he had known she was still a child, though nearly a woman. But the Fae... nothing was based on time. On age. Time was different in Albion, it ran slower. He was younger here than he was in her world for humans aged so differently and their realm was so delicate. And he had changed to accomodate that, thinking it would help. His soul was younger than a human's form and here, surrounded by his own, it showed. Still a man. If she had only stayed she would have seen, he'd have helped her understand. He had been so sure... after she had accepted every gift, every hint. Had been led to the entrance... only to turn her back on it to return to a world that would never understand her. Where she would never belong.
His lithe form stood silhouetted against the room, eyes clenched shut and his mouth barely parted so he could breathe. His hair turned darker, clinging to his cheeks and his neck, running into points around his face. Beneath, through long lashes, ran a solitary tear to mix with the water cascading down upon his back. He had spent nearly his whole life alone, and now he would be alone with someone else. Someone he didn't love. Someone who caused his mind to turn almost trance like against his will until he didn't know what to do or feel. A reaction so different to the dark haired mortal who had rested his power from him and brought colour into his domain. And he would have to bear it with a smile, his chin high, as if it was what he wanted. For it no longer mattered what he wanted or needed. His responsibilities came first. He was too proud to give them up.
Tomorrow he would be a different person. The one others needed him to be, and his land. Tomorrow he would begin anew. Putting all of this behind him so it no longer controlled him, so he could exist at his post once more.
But for tonight, he would allow himself one final selfish act.
To let himself feel his broken heart. To think of Sarah a last time. To say goodbye.