A/N: Time's gotten away from me. As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I look forward to reading what you think in the reviews!

The quiet, distant echo of a laugh filtered through the deserted corridor, lit in sporadic intervals where the students had left their study rooms open to allow the sunlight in. At the far end stood the stone sentinel at his post, the faint lumination lighting his features from the side, giving his features more life than a skilled craftsman could ever carve into granite. His eyes seemed to flicker, if not blink, then his mouth almost appeared to curl at the side. In a sudden motion of movement, the statue lifted a gauntlet to cough into it, then casually hefted his sword belt further up his waist and sauntered off to the side to lean against the nearby, adjacent wall. The wall behind his post pulled back from the surrounding mortar with a rough, grating sound of grinding stone, and then descended into the floor to admit the appearance of a certain blond young man who popped out as if he did this every other day.

"Afternoon, Heilyn. Good to see you're doing well," Jaque crowed quietly, grinning up at the figure as he finally stood up from all fours and brushed himself down. The sentinel turned and bowed his head, his own grin in place, jauntily leaning his hip on the wall and saluting him before dropping his armour clad arm. The blonde sighed happily, gloved hands moving to his hips as he looked down the hall at large. The red carpet looked almost wet in this dusky lighting, the tapestries on the wall seemed so new. How he loved this place and its quirks. "I know I've been away for a spell, old boy, but have you anything to report? Seen any nice statues recently?"

Heilyn rolled his eyes, shaking his granite head in resignation, then motioned with his head further down the corridor.

"Williams...? I was so sure she had class right now."

The other figure raised his brows and nodded slowly, then jerked his head again as he settled him with an intent gaze. Or at least, as intent a gaze as stone could muster. A muscle seemed to jump under the carved slopes of his eyes. Jaque frowned, moving to mirror the stone fae's stance across from him on the opposite wall, his gaze moving down the corridor again as his lips twisted in thought.

"... O-kay... not Williams," he mused, glancing at his counterpart just to make sure, "Then... are we talking about her darling friend, the ebony beauty, who never seems to let her out of her sight besides classes?"

A nod, a flexing of fingers against folded arms. The grin was all but gone.

"I see. And what, dare I ask, has she been up to?"

Heilyn responded with a series of hand gestures, hands moving quickly, in a military fashion that was still taught to every fae of high standing from Terauramulis. Every noble fae was enrolled into the militia in what would pass for their late teens - the males, typically, though there were the odd exceptions - as the Hierarchy believed in character building, and for every leader of a kingdom to be able to govern his people and guard should the need arise. It taught patience, stealth, grace, magic wielding, and weaponry. As well as how to make tough decisions. Jaque watched raptly with narrowed eyes, brows climbing up into his hairline. His lips thinned, pressing together as he bit down on them, pondering. The elder fae stopped, touching the hilt of his sword by habit, then leaned back again and recrossed his arms, stony expression back in place.

"Let's just make sure I have you right, since I haven't seen our Guard in some time. You're telling me that she... what, left? And came back carrying the scent of "deceit" and "darker days"? What are you insinuating?"

The other fae shook his head in a blatant refusal to say any more.

"Albion take me, I wish your choice of passing had allowed you to keep your vocal chords. It certainly let you keep your personality and attitude."

An arched brow, followed by a smirk that didn't last long before sliding from his features. Jaque hissed at him in annoyance, then briefly pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before addressing him again, hand moving to gesture to the empty air between them.

"Let me try this again- are you saying you cannot say, or are you saying you don't want to?"

A gloved hand left its resting place to point in a backward motion.

"What do you mean both? Damn it, Heilyn, you're a tough stone to crack."

Another gesture. Universal in nearly every language.

"Is it because you aren't entirely sure, then, or are you just being difficult?"

Stone grated against itself and Jaque groaned.

"Fine! All seeing deity, what doth thine granite eyes see?"

The fast gestures began again, Heilyn stepping away from the wall, and finished with a cagey glance down the corridor as a door closed, but no one had come out. Turning his head again, it was to see Jaque looking as if he'd just eaten something disgusting.

"I see. Well I..." he paused, brows knit, "I guess... keep on it. Pay extra attention to Aliannah, I'll be back in a moon's cycle to hear what you've found." Jaque sighed, moving to walk away. Heilyn nodded at him and hoisted his scabbard again as he stalked back towards his post. Just before he resumed his post, however, Jaque quickly turned on his heel and called back to him. "Say, while I have you here: Have any other fae been through er... well, you, recently?"

Heilyn shook his head, but his eyes widened a little as if he hadn't asked the right question. Then he lifted his chin, wrapped his hand back around his scabbard, then any trace of warmth or life bled from him to leave the stone as devoid of life as before.

Jaque swore under his breath, glaring at the sentinel, "Sometimes I swear you deliberately keep things from me."

Resuming his walk down the corridor, he pulled a pocketwatch of sorts from his pocket and gave it a cursory once over as he held it into the light to inspect. Each open doorway threw him back into relief before the shadows in their spaces reclaimed him, each time the face of the clock changing a little further. Finally, he stowed it away and began to tug off one of his gloves, moving with steady intent towards the solid door mere footsteps away from Sarah's room. Eanraig had made sure to drill into them that there was no room for guessing, for mistakes. Had managed to instill that same solemnity in his doorkeepers here, like Heilyn. Jaque couldn't chance letting slip even the inkling of what he was thinking now, not until he had something concrete.

His boots came to a graceful halt outside the door, coming together neatly and firmly, in silence. Taking a steadying breath, the blond raised his now bare hand... and slowly pressed it against the wood, closing his eyes. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. The cold bite of the panel met the flesh of his palm, blank and lifeless. But he forced his fingers harder against the wood until the tips started to bend, tensing his jaw and clenching his eyes. For another moment, he stood there, silhouetted at the end of the corridor with hunched shoulders and a look of such deep concentration it appeared as if he too was carved from granite. Around him the air seemed to still, as if the school itself was holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come. If anything.

Then finally the door spoke to him.

It wasn't noticeable to start with. There were no golden streams that came with the locked door Choilleach had opened. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, he felt his hand start to cool further. The bite of the door turned into knives, and he opened his eyes gradually in time to see what appeared to be droplets of condensation begin to form around the outline of his fingers, bleeding through the wood. The smell of marshland hit him in the form of decaying plant life, and the pressing weight of mist began to push forth from the doorway. Enveloping him. Caressing and pulling at him with tendrils of pale moisture, sliding into his hair...

That much didn't concern him. Not every fae hailed from the Capital city, nor had ever been there. This type of residual dwelling presence was attributed to a few regions: The Wastelands were probably the biggest culprits of heavy weather like this, though he'd never known one of such dark appearance to have been born there. Indeed, there was a telltale, underlying smell of arid sandstone... though that could simply be coming from a possession within the room itself.

Jaque discounted all of this in favour of something far deeper. Despite the heady proximity of Aliannah's typical homeland, there was something darting in and out of his peripheral consciousness, toying with him. Goading him into trying to separate it from the myriad of tethers attached to the door he was melding his magic with. Daring him to let go of his trained psyche that was holding his magical signature back in case the other fae sensed his meddling, and reported him to someone important. His frowning intensified as he chased it, his hand twisting against the wooden panel until the entirety of his fingers began to turn white. 'Come on... just a little bit closer...'

Time was starting to trickle by, matched by the sweat beginning to collect and run its path down his spine from his exertion. This wasn't his job. That continuously went through his mind even as he pressed himself further into the door to seek whatever it was that was taunting him and his efforts. This was Choilleach's job. The big bloke had specifically qualified for this kind of investigation into potential threats against them and Eanraig's affairs. It was one of the reasons he'd been assigned to oversee William's schooling here. Jaque was here for the more... personal perspective, to see whether she showed any inkling of telling anyone about Jareth or her "nightmares". Which, naturally, she hadn't. And now he'd roped himself into being the unanticipated friend that apparently was studying art and sculpting, and had now taken it upon himself to go another step outwith his boundaries to do his good ol' buddies tasks as well.

He coughed. Then he coughed again, a little harsher, his body withdrawing slightly from the door in response as his gloved hand rose to his mouth. This time, the presence followed him, snaring around his throat like a gradually tightening whip. The sweet smell of decaying marshland faded, replaced with the smell of iron and something... something he wasn't entirely sure of. The inside of his nostrils began to itch and burn, the back of his mouth drying and beginning to stick to itself. Panic began to rise as he struggled to pull his hand away completely, his other hand pulling on his arm furiously. This magic... there was no denying it. But why? What would bring it out here, so far from their kind?

Finally, he managed to wrench himself away with a faint cry, twisting and curling away from the door as he fought to suck in lungfuls of air . Behind him, the water and all else of what he'd seen had disappeared completely, the door having reverted to looking like the other dozen in the hallway besides it. Trembles wracked his body as he managed a staggering footstep forward towards the other wall, eyes downcast at his bare hand. His body felt like led, exhaustion leaving him heavy and lethargic, yet he struggled still to raise his hand and look at it.

Expecting to see a burn of some manner from where the flesh of his hand had welded against the door, another cry left his throat at what he found instead. The skin was marred and grey, almost mummified, in a swirl pattern spiralling out from the center of his palm. Yet as he watched, the skin didn't reknit itself or recover. Nothing changed or moved. Tentatively, he lifted his fingers from his other hand to pass over the raised flesh, and swore as it elicited a sharp shiver down his spine from its sheer cold. There was nothing else for it, it would have to wait until he got back to the Hall of Aurea; This was going to take one of their best physicians to test and understand. He couldn't take this to Choilleach or the others... he had been reckless... he had been-

"...Jaque? What are you doing up here? Don't you have class?"

His head snapped up in time to see Sarah coming to a stop a few steps from him, letting the doors from the stairwell swing shut slowly behind her. Her eyes were wide, questioning, and he hastily tugged on his glove as he caught her gaze beginning to travel towards his hand, plastering a bright smile on his face.

"Sarah! Aha... how are you? It's been a while, hasn't it- Say, weren't you supposed to be helping me with my er... project?" he deflected, straightening finally and nonchalantly tucking his hands behind his back. The door was now resolutely at his back and he did his best not to show even a remote sign of what had been going on.

Sarah didn't appear to buy into his charade.

"What are you doing up here, Jaque? Were you seeing Aliannah?" she countered, peering past him at the door with a frown, "I didn't know the pair of you knew each other."

"We are... acquainted. Ish."

Her brows quirked, her red lips disappearing as she pressed them together for a moment. Then she sighed, gesturing towards his hands. "Did you guys get into a fight or something? You looked like you were in pain when I first came up here..."

He sighed, huffing a self deprecating laugh. "I was. I haven't seen Aliannah today, actually, but I did enjoy a nice run up here from the ground floor trying to avoid a cousin. What you just witnessed was a grade A stitch," he shrugged, "I'm not as fit as I look, apparently.

"Apparently," she echoed. Her gaze stayed on him another moment, remembering the morning she'd left where Aliannah hadn't seemed to recognise his name when she'd mentioned him, then she shook her head and shrugged too, "I haven't seen her either. She might still be on her break. I could ask Elijah later, after his Economics class, if you want?"

He flashed his teeth and sharply shook his head once, waving his good hand dismissively in the air. "Don't trouble yourself, it's not important. I just like familiarising myself with the... bigger names, on campus. I'm sure I'll catch her at another time."

Sarah's breath caught for a second at the actions coming from the blond, once more reminded of an older version of him. The image of her broken mirror swam back to the forefront of her mind, then images of her "friends" that she associated with it. Her subconscious had just managed to dredge up a picture of Jareth, the last time she'd seen him, before she forced her eyes away from Jaque towards the wall and tightened her jaw. She had shed her final tears over that little daydream. Whatever similarities there were here, they were recognised on her part alone. Still, she couldn't push away the familiarity.

"Well... I guess I'll catch up with you later then, Jaque? About your project?"

Jaque saw the change in her unfold before his eyes: Recognition, Denial, Acceptance, Refutal. The fact that her eyes had begun to gleam a little in the dim light, changing from their typical leaf green to a deeper shade of emerald, as he caught the memories she was promoting out of her psyche. Jareth must have done an absolute number on her, if she still shied away from even his name a whole human decade later after the fact. It had been a millenia for him... though, the youth supposed, Jareth was only a hair's difference from what he had been after that night's events too.

Love. How cruel a mistress doth she be.

"I'm heading back down that way anyway, mind if I tag along?" This was the most he had gleaned from her since the first time he had accidentally made contact- he couldn't afford to let this slide now. The more he could send back to Arlyn and Baran tonight, the better he could hide what he'd actually been up to before she showed up. Past that, he just had to avoid Choilleach until he met with one of Aurea's healers and had his hand seen to, since that Fae could smell deceit like a rotting corpse set before his face. He'd be out of this "Mission" before he had the chance to say an expletive befitting one of mortal caliber because he'd go straight to Eanraig and claim that he'd been "compromised". Jaque was already riding by the skin of his incisors as it was, after breaking Eanraig's number one rule. No contact. After this, he'd be lucky to still be allowed entry into Terauramulis for informal visits.

Sarah's eyes flicked back to Aliannah's door, then towards her own, her shoulders sagging a little. She had hoped to phone Toby before going to eat... though in her current mood, that probably wasn't a good idea. He should have been in school still at the moment regardless, or just leaving. She could phone later. Finally, she cast her gaze around the narrow, cramped corridor one last time. All the small yet impenetrable doors. The tapestries. The stone soldier leering at her from the opposite end where he stood in his eternal vigil.

"... me just drop my gear in my room first, then we can go."

His shirt, made of the richest cloth of Terauramulis in its deepest purple, looked wet as it rippled in the faint breeze where he stood on the stone plateau of Aurea, looking up at the Great Spire. His blond tresses lifted with it, the open front of the garment allowing the air to grace the toned expanse of his torso. Framed in an aura of gold coming from the twin suns overhead, causing him to squint his eyes as he looked up at the obelisk of crystal, his iris' becoming pools of molten colour, lips parted. For a moment, Jareth almost looked serene. At peace. With himself, with the city...

Almost. Except those who knew him would notice the muscle jumping in his jaw as he grit his teeth together behind those thin lips, would see the tension coiling behind the heavy weight of his stare. The rigidity in which he held himself, one hand wrapped around a crystal goblet of wine and the other pressed with the back against his spine. Like a soldier who had been told to mingle at a party, yet couldn't relax because he still had his orders to carry out. With no one else accompanying him, visibly, he looked out of place when those details surfaced.

For a spell there was little sound bar what filtered up from the tiered living spaces below, from the marketplaces and the street performers, the faint cry of different birds from certain travelling fae coming in from the cloud district. Then the faint clinking from the Royal Guard's armour sounded behind, gradually disturbing the quiet until Xavior came to a halt beside him and also folded his hands behind his back. They stood in silence, both staring out at the spire and the lower gardens, trained eyes ignoring the almost imperceptible moving air not far from the city's totem. Warded against everyone bar three. And no one but the three knew who they were.

"... Your betrothal, although sudden, appears to be going well thus far, my friend. At which point do the rest of us meet the Princess? She seems little more than a ghost in Aurea for now."

"Says the fae who has stood watching me for the past hour or so- since when is it customary for old friends to give a wide berth in times of solitude?"

Jareth's nostrils flared slightly, eyes narrowing further as he momentarily turned his head to look down on his new companion, barely glancing over the set mask of Xavior's features before dancing away again back to where they'd been.

"You seemed pensieve... I thought to allow you time with your thoughts before making my approach. Much has transpired since we talked last, and I'd hate to crowd you," the captain smiled, brushing the bridge of his nose with the back of his gauntlet and sniffing quietly, "You never were one to speak your mind in times as trying as these, even when we were younglings. That much I have learned and retained."

"I appreciate your concern, Xavior," the blond muttered, pressing his lips together tightly. The hand at the back clenched its fingers then unfurled, the fingers tapping against his spine for a spell. The tension was far from abating and it could visibly be seen in the Captain's stance as well. "Lady Aislinn... travels regularly. The Isle of Nocte depends on her presence in order to keep her council in check, so a formal betrothal ball has yet to be arranged or planned. No doubt Queen Yennifer will see to it before the next moon's swell."

Xavior's brows rose towards his hairline, his breath hissing sharply between his teeth. "So the rumours of the court ring true, then. You actually plan to merge your bloodline with the Isle that would have seen Terauramulis razed to its stone foundations, seen the Halls of Aurea dissected and sold for parts. Have killed the Royal family in a heart's beat if their armies had made it past the chasms." His tone was calloused, cold, his face twisted between intense disgust and disapproval, "Your family, Jareth. Technically."

Jareth barked a mirthless laugh, finally turning to his friend and folding his arms with head tilted almost mockingly as he considered him for a moment. "Terauramulis, during the time of Vercingetorix's rule, was unshakeable and instilled both fear and envy in the hearts of those who had no business to walk its plateau. It has fallen from its former grandeur, under my late father, under Eanraig. The obelisk has been threatened in times since, and our armies are lax and soft from years of peace and tranquility," he looked down at his hands for a second, thoughtful, and when his head lifted again his expression had changed. "It is time to let go of what was and has been. Our kind cannot survive with constant fissures that are never allowed to close. For this reason, I have to trust that Lady Aislinn is as sincere as she appears. She hardly looks the part of a wartime general, now does she?"

"I wouldn't know, for my eyes have yet to spy her. Our Queen trusts in her, and I trust in our monarchy. For this reason alone I have not pried."

"You would do well to keep it that way, Xavior. Isle or not, she is a lady of noble lineage and you will treat her accordingly."

They fell silent for a few moments, Xavior looking down at the cloud district with a whimsical sigh, Jareth looking in the opposite direction towards the open expanse of cloud that rolled onto the precipice of Tarauramulis foundations like waves, in the direction of what he now knew as home.

"If the other rumours are to hold as much truth as this, then your fair lady is a far cry from... well, your usu-"

"Change is necessary for progression," Jareth cut in sharply, lip curling a little at the implication behind the words directed at him. Different from the mortal. He knew they were all thinking it. She was... nothing, to him now. No more than a ghost from his past.

Quiet found them again, the Captain now inspecting the grooves of the leaf chainmail of his gauntlets, while Jareth turned his attention behind them to the voils wafting through the open archway. Ivory, glittering in the heady sunlight. A far contrast to the deep purple adorning his person.

He turned away.

"While I have you here, actually, I have a question for you."

Xavior looked up, squinting at him suspiciously, "Oh? This'll be good..."

Jareth sighed exasperatedly, dragging a hand down his face to grip his jaw. "Yes. Baran and Arlyn have been in the Capital more often in the last Cycle than the past three, always together, looking as comfortable as my subjects look when addressing me in my throne room," his mismatched gaze found his friend's and pinned him in place, "What is going on behind Aurea's closed doors?"

For a moment all that the other Fae could do was look at him in complete bafflement. He opened his mouth a couple of times before shutting it again raptly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Err... Holiday? Visiting family? Hanging out with Eanraig?" he tried, questioningly, "I... I honestly do not know. No one has alerted me to anything concerning either of them and I cannot say that I have seen them around as often as you claim."

"Everytime I am called here they are already here and have been for some time, as haggard and exhausted as our younglings during tactical training for the guard. So tell me... Are they training for something?"

The other fae scratched the back of his head slowly, looking increasingly confused, "Not that I know of, Jareth. My corp doesn't have room for any new trainees, and certainly not for nearly middle aged Fae. I'm sure that if they required training that they would have alerted me by now, or Choilleach. Have you asked him? The pair of you go way back..."

Jareth shook his head, once. "No. He is bound to my Aunt and Uncle with a vow of secrecy upon The Goddess, and could not tell me even if he wanted to, if he is involved or knows anything."

He hummed for a second.

"... They're always exiting the lower chambers into the Second Keep, where the prisoners of War were kept. Yet if there were a prisoner in Terauramulis, the districts and Aurea would be on high alert..." he mused aloud.

Xavior nodded. "A breach in security of that magnitude would have to be brought to me so I could condition our troops, put them on high alert for their border patrols."

"Only you have the clearance to be down there. My right of free passage has long since been rescinded."

His friend balked, staring up at him incredulously. Jareth stayed stoic, watching him intently, waiting on an answer. Xavior seemed to retract at the look, backing up a step, then nonchalantly tried to lean against the nearby wall as he tried to reason with both himself and his friend.

"You realise what the potential repercussions could be, yes? I could be stripped of my rank for interfering in matters above my station. I could be removed from Aurea. I could... I could be banished."

Jareth scoffed, "My my, how terrible that must be to withstand," he drawled sarcastically.

Xavior blushed, dropping his gaze. "My apologies, Jareth. But my point withstands- If I were to be caught or found to be obstructing the court, the consequences would be most... severe."

"Then, dear friend, do not allow yourself to be caught."

"Why does it concern you so? Your allegiance to the protection of Terauramulis is void, since you were sent to the Southern Borderlands. While your family presides here and your mother remains in the Cloud district, your concern of safety is to your own kingdom. Why take up a mantle that is no longer yours to bear?"

"This... this was mine, once. My responsibility, my people. I turned my back on them as a frivolous, reckless youth, I endangered their lives. For that reason, I withstood my banishment. For that reason, I accepted their forgiveness and welcome back into the capital. And for that reason, I cannot turn my back on them again."

Xavior snorted. "Poetic. Yet I have never heard you speak your intentions so freely, with such sentimentality. That was almost selfless."

Jareth glared at him. "Time has taught me many lessons, the most poignant and the most prevalent. I accept my wrongdoings as much as my successes- I have to, if I am to marry. Yennifer bore no heirs, and by blood, the throne is mine once my Uncle abdicates the throne or Passes Through."

His friend leveled a look at him, "... And...?"

He sighed, "And because I'm insatiably curious and this will grate on my last nerve if I don't figure out what those two meddlers are doing. Baran can hardly stand to be around this many fae for a celebration within his own Kingdom, let alone outside his icy walls. The fact that he is doing it with Arlyn who is the most devoted fae to his wife that I have ever witnessed raises more than a few questions. And said wife is apparently absent. I seek answers."

"You seek trouble, my friend, for only trouble can come of this."

"Ever the pessimist, Xavior. The mortals would be hard pushed to best you in a game of misery."

"You do not get handed the responsibility and honour as Captain of the Royal Guard by staying constantly jovial and reckless. I would have thought such times were long behind you."

"They are. Behind me are millennia of solitude, silence, and regrets. Before me lies a path I must walk for the good of my people, fraught with hard decisions and existence with a stranger to warm my bed. My... apologies, for attempting to humour myself while I still have the will."

Xavior hung his head, biting down hard on his lip before whipping round to his friend. "Then don't marry her! You're still young, Jareth, and there is still life in your Uncle yet. Loving a mortal was better to you than this- I can see it in the way you stand here with me, that this weighs heavier on you than your sentences from the court. Why not sink your energy into rebuilding yourself before you go trying to build a dynasty?"

"BECAUSE I CAN'T!"

Jareth's iris' swelled, the contrasting colours growing ever deeper and taking on a fierce gleam and his features growing more angular. His chest heaved, his angered cry swallowed up by the opposing obelisk's wards, loud enough that the reverberations still caused the nearby birds to startle and take flight. Xavior was now standing straight backed, ever vigilant, yet his hand was raised palm-first at his friend.

Jareth ignored him.

"She robbed me of everything! My kingdom suffers for she tainted it and left, taking its life with her! My mind was all but destroyed by my heart's desire, by the destiny I held in my hands which I allowed her to take away! My subjects starved, their houses collapsed, because my magic could no longer reach them from the room in which I ensconced myself! I have to move on or die trying!"

Xavior released his held breath slowly through his nose, looking sadly across the balcony at him. Taking in the ire on his face, the aggressive stance he had undertaken, the way his hand had flung out towards the Chasm as if She was still there, waiting in the Labyrinth for him to return.

"Moving on does not mean siring an heir by a stranger you neither know nor care for, to secure your lineage. It means letting the past go and forging your own future, like I had to after my parents died in The Wastes. Do not let your demons pick your path," he said quietly.

Jareth snarled at him, "You do not know me as well as you think you do. Do not presume to understand me or my actions. My land needs a ruler, it needs new life. An alliance borne of marriage between the Southern Borderlands and The Isle of Nocte would be prestigious, and beneficial to Terauramulis as well, with our exports."

"... I see your Aunt and Uncle have been busy with you."

"Silence. I refuse to hear another word about this. My betrothal to Lady Aislinn is not up for discussion."

Jareth turned, swiping viciously at the waving voils of the archway before pausing. "You owe me, for Loiletta," he called melodically over his shoulder, expression turning cruel, "So I am calling in that debt now. You will find out what is transpiring in Aurea's foundations, and you will tell me in reports of everything you learn. I bind you on our life's blood to this contract, that you will tell no one."

"... Very well, my liege. It will be so."

Jareth swept away down the corridor without a backward glance, and Xavior soon followed his cue in the opposite direction with a heavy gait. Their footsteps echoed on the crystal floors before fading into silence, and the peace of the hall was restored once more.

Aliannah stepped out from her hidden alcove gracefully, smoothing her skirts and tucking a stray coil of hair behind her ear as her dark, soulful eyes watched the space which the blond King had since left. Blood welled on her lip from where she had bitten it in fright when the shout had sounded, and she slid a square of cloth from her dress to blot it quickly, then began to retrace her steps back towards Princess Ailinn's assigned guest quarters at a quick pace.

Behind her, the nearly imperceptible sound of a bubble bursting sounding in multiple places, leaving tiny showers of iridescent glitter to fall to the emerald carpet.