A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews! There will be more to be answered coming up in future chapters, and I hope I haven't lost you so far!
Shorter chapter this time, something big happening next.
p.s I know you hate me about the wedding, but I promise it will all make sense soon! Just trust me…
They had always been close, since they were faelings. Had grown up together, the twin suns dancing through their hair as they abandoned their lessons of etiquette in favour of seeking adventure.
He recalled the air of the Alban Heflin as it had ushered them onwards away from the Palace of Baile na cloinne, the kingdom of Llin eile Coille. The Forest of the Children, as it was known by mortals. The memory of running along the entwined branches so thick they made up the city's ground from which it was built upon felt as real as the flagstones he currently walked. Hundreds of feet above the literal forest's floor, embraced by a perimeter of white chalk stone that separated the kingdom from the outside realms, Baile na Cloinne had been where their parents had taken them during the Summer to mingle them with their cousins while they addressed matter of the High Council with the liege's there.
Jaque's parents. The youth hadn't been born yet, his parents coupling still a few centuries young for their age to have considered a child. Jareth had delighted in the thick foliage's ability to hide them from the masses, taking them further into the realm of the unknown with each tree they climbed or swung from, using their magic lessons to learn how to project themselves between large areas by folding the space.
Everything was green then. Warm, slightly humid. The white stone carrying the dirt of the trees in its crevice's yet otherwise unmarred. His best friend had taunted him for being sweet on a young fae girl there with blazing auburn hair, a ward of the court, and he had let him. They had been so happy then, so full of life, of hope. Neither of them had ever heard of a mortal, back then. Had never thought twice about the roles they would step into once they had matured.
All that mattered was their imaginations and where it would take them.
He recalled standing on the precipice of the city, the many trees making up a single large canopy, and they had been up so high above the thick blanket of leaves that they couldn't even hear the loud bustle of the life roaming below them. Vast land was laid before them, dense foliage and open skies spreading as far as their sharp eyes could see.
Jareth standing all but hanging in the open air, a single hand wrapped around a vine behind him while he leaned into the wind, an expression of sheer elation and wicked delight lighting his features as he drank it in like a starved animal.
"One day, Xavior, I want to rule over a land like this," the blond had said wistfully, eyes falling shut as the breeze lifted him up, bringing him to his toes, "I want to be free. Make my own decisions. My people will be happy, because I will be happy. We'll want for nothing. There'll be no rules to stop us from living our lives…"
He had smiled in turn, sat in a cradle of leaves with his feet swinging, "What about Terauramulis? That's your land, remember. You can't just turn your back on those people, can you?"
His friend had barely moved, still smiling as his short messy hair blew away from his face, "That kingdom is my parents', not mine. Sure, one day I'll inherit it. But before that… before they take away the wings I just got and they force me to be a serious, boring ruler, I want to experience what Albion has to offer me."
He had turned to him, a bright light in his eyes that looked like a star were behind them shining directly at him. He had stood, not knowing why, but finding himself slightly in awe.
Jareth had always had a natural aura for leadership.
"I want to be free, Xavior. Don't you?"
The tears that tracked down his face now, mingling with the dirt of the corridor floor he had been slammed into before he was dragged towards the dungeons in gleaming tethers of cyan, reminded him of the last time he had seen that light in Jareth's eyes.
The very dawn in which he had seen it wink out and disappear as his tears had sullied his once bright face, when he was forced out of Terauramulis by the guard. By Xavior's father and his men. To force Jareth into a life of eternal solitude in a land which the fae had never held.
And he had been helpless then, as he was now, to stop it.
His boots dragged along the flagstones behind him, his ankles bound as tightly as his wrists. Lachlan flanked him on one side, his gloved hand firm and bruising where he carried him by the arm. On his other side was Baran, his own grip equally bruising if not more so, though his expression was wracked with remorse.
He should have been fine. He had been fine. Had picked his moment perfectly. Until Aliannah had flashed past so quickly he had paused to wonder if he'd imagined it. Moments later he knew her master had brought her here, for Lachlan and Eanraig had descended on him.
He should have avoided the door. But he had been so perplexed to hear such familiar voices in the forbidden wing, wondering just who else had been breaking the sanctity of Aurea's laws boldly enough to covet an entire solar and leave the door wide open. It wasn't until he had stood in the doorway with horrified disgust on his face, his body moving him into view without his consent that he realised he had been found. And that there was a reason for Eanraig's sudden change of laws to forbid trespassers.
A mortal. A mortal who looked like Jareth. And he had heard his friend's name fall from the mortal's mouth before the others had rounded on him in a furious snap of fangs and magic.
Eanraig's circle. He had intruded on his King.
Another sob left him, an apology and plea for release all at once, yet further into the dim cold stone they continued.
"Sir Xavior… do my eyes deceive me?"
He had whirled as if scalded, hands placed against the cool quartz doors as he prepared to push them open.
"Qu-queen Aislinn… I had believed you had returned to your king. What brings you back to Aurea?"
"My business is my own, I suspect," she had murmured delicately, smiling flirtatiously at him with her tongue poised neatly behind her perfectly white teeth as she sauntered slowly up to him, "Yet here I find myself in the presence of an oath breaker. I cannot help myself but be curious as to what would bring Aurea's Captain of the Guard to the forbidden wing…"
He had felt the heat creep up his neck at her actions, her intent laid so bare in her gaze as she came to stop so close they had almost shared a breath. "My business is also my own, milady."
She had simpered, giggling behind a lace-gloved hand, and shaken her head, "No, I don't believe that so. What you are doing is illegal. What I am doing is… well… far from anyone's view."
She had paused, her fingers dancing up his arm to ghost over his ear so gently it had risen the hairs on the back of his neck, "But I could be persuaded to… forget what I've seen. Turn a blind eye, to your interesting actions."
He had exhaled brokenly, hating himself for his reactions to his friend's wife, yet leaned into her touch all the same. She reminded him of his lost one, from Baile na cloinne. Except blond. Except more dangerous. He had wet his lips, "And what would you ask of me in turn?"
Aislinn had spun around and under his arm, placing her back against the door so their chest touched, grinning up at him, "Why are you doing this, Xavior? You've never struck me as a man who gave in so willingly to dark temptations…"
"I…" he averted his gaze. Visions of his best friend arose from his mind again, that bright light he missed so terribly, "Jareth. He asked me to check it out for him, since he can no longer traverse these halls freely."
"Mm… you two seem close…" her hands had traced the armour across his chest, eyes intently fixed on his.
Something painful had tugged inside him. Stealing his breath. Squeezing against his lungs until he heard the words leaving him, "I would die for him, Milady. There is nothing I wouldn't do for him. I owe him a life debt, after all."
Those words had clearly been what she had sought, and she had shown it as she had leaned up on her toes to press an icy cold kiss to the corner of his mouth, "Oh… I have no doubt that you will… in time."
Then she had left in a flash, leaving his chest heaving as the pain suddenly left, and he had turned to find her again as she walked away, searching for her like a drowning man.
"You will never see him again, Xavior, am I clear? Do not attempt to visit our lands," she had gestured towards the doors with a bored tone, "Please, continue your afternoon. I know that I shall mine..."
Aislinn had promised him that she would protect his secret, that she had no reason to speak of his business so long as he stayed out of her's. Stopped trying to force through permissions to visit Jareth in their shared Kingdom. He had given his word, and she had broken her's.
The agony of having failed Jareth was almost too much to bear, though the bonds around his wrists and ankles which blocked his magic had reduced him motionless as he cried, the pain caused from being torn away from his very essence rendering him unable to scream.
The fae which carried him both knew of the suffering he endured, their grasps loosening with each anguished cry that tore from him as his cell came into view.
"Fade be damned Xavior… Why… why…" Lachlan had whispered, stressed, as they had laid him down on the only cot, and replaced his shackles with iron. A scream ripped through the gloom as the metal fastened around his skin, the smell of burning broken flesh searing the inside of their nostrils, and Baran had left almost immediately to evade the noise, too disturbed by the events unfolding to speak.
Lachlan had stayed, taking the Fae's armour from him, stripping him of his rank. Slowly. Methodically. Reducing him to nothing, less than nothing, no sign of how he was feeling as he stared into him.
Reminding him of what Lachlan was, his status as Terauramulis' renowned warrior fae, of how often he would have had to do this in the past to those who had betrayed them or died under his watch.
"I had to, I had to, I had to… I had to… Jareth… Jareth asked… of me… my best friend…" he had rasped, even as blood has begun to leak from around his iron cuffs, the metal hissing as the liquid trickled past it. He words tumbled over one another in a broken rush, panicked, begging for any small chance of release.
A flash of remorse crept through Lachlan's gaze but disappeared just as fast, and he had simply collected all of the other fae's belongings in his arms as quietly as he could, "Then why allow yourself to get caught, if it was so dire? By her of all people? You could have left, could have tried another time. Could have appealed to Eanraig. But not like this. Not this…"
His head shook slowly from where it was bowed, a defeated slump in his shoulders as he stood to leave.
"She promised. We made a deal. If I stopped trying to see J-Jareth, she would stay silent. Wh-why would she break her word? How…"
He saw him leaving, and his panic spiked, making him lurch against his restraints towards the cell door that was already swinging shut.
"N-no, NO! CHOILLEACH, YOU C-CAN'T LEAVE ME, YOU CAN'T! I'LL DIE! CHOILLEACH?!"
His fingers clawed desperately at the stone floor, tearing the skin at his fingernails. Twin paths of his blood began to paint themselves in his path, from his cuffs and now his hands, but still Lachlan's keys lifted to the lock. Though, the Fae refused to look at him, and he could see the grief etched into the lines on his face as he screeched at him to save him.
"Don't do this! Don't d-d-do this-s… SHE'S GOING TO KILL HIM! I C-CAN FEEL IT! YOU HAVE TO SAVE HIM… please…"
He descended into sobs again, his voice losing its power as he begged the floor for salvation, his throat raw as his fingers finally curled around the bars of his cell, inches from his friend's boots.
"P-l-ease… please… you have to save him, please… You c-can't let him die… not J-Jareth… not my best friend… don't let her kill him…"
The only sound that met his ears was that of Lachlan leaving the dungeon, and the echoes of his pleading resounding back to him. Then finally a door shut with a final boom, and he was left alone.
"Please…"
May the winds be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
And the rains fall soft upon your lands.
And until we meet again,
and until we meet again,
May the Goddess hold you in the palm of her hand.
The goblet sounded too loud as it was placed back atop the marble bench they shared, hands resting between them close enough to touch even though they daren't. The silence between them wavered each time one took a breath as if to speak, before releasing it.
They had danced this dance before.
Yennifer was the first to move her hand, lifting it to smooth down her already impeccably neat skirts for something to busy herself with while Eanraig warred with his emotions. Below their feet, a dear friend and companion would rot in his cell until the time of his execution. An execution he had ordered due to his own laws. Laws he had never regretted instilling. Not until the black Queen had frolicked through their halls to taint the clear quartz her evil hands found, destroying that in which they had held so close for so long. Bringing it all down in ashes one section at a time, pulling their homes down around them.
A tear finally escaped her long lashes though she turned her head quickly to hide it, but it was too late. Eanraig saw the grief he had caused his mate all to well. His hand left the bench too, goblet untouched, and fell listlessly into his lap.
"It will have to be a public display, else I will be accused of being too weak to rule. I gave my word to protect them with my laws."
"I know."
Her words were soft, almost lost as the breeze blew past carrying some fallen leaves and petals of the nearby gardens she had sown with her own hands. The quiet fell once more, its knife twisting in his heart as he saw her shoulders shake with barely repressed emotion, and he set his teeth.
"His curiosity, if that is what drove him, was to be expected. I should have told him, even just enough to keep him away. I have been harbouring many secrets recently."
"I know."
His eyes flashed to her face, but her face was turned firmly away, looking down upon the cloud district's entrance arch below her.
"I know that I have sullied the trust we have built together. I have brought danger into our home, the very home I have sworn to protect with my life's blood. I never intended to harm, my love, though I know that that is exactly what I have brought."
Yennifer's jaw clenched, a muscle jumping in her temple, "An innocent soldier is about to lose his life in front of all our people, because of your decisions. I will have to watch as a close friend of mine and of my family is forced into the Fade, helpless now as I was to prevent it, because of your actions. And by standing by your side, my hands will be as stained as yours."
Her accusations hung in the air between them, her voice trembling as much as she was. He let them hit home as she had intended them to, the cold air biting as it filled his chest.
The air tasted sour, now that he knew its sweetness would be soon lost for Xavior.
"I can only ask that you continue to stand by my side as you have always done," he turned to her, his boot meeting the ground on the other side of the bench, straddling it, his hands reaching for her's. She snatched them away before he could touch her.
"Yen, I have something crucial to tell you, and I need you to listen to me before you make anymore decisions where I am concerned- where we are concerned. I beseech you to grant me this much. Afterwards, you may do as you bid."
A curt nod was the only response he got, and he straightened. The bustle in the districts below them was too far for him to immerse himself in to gather his thoughts. Everything that had transpired with young Tobias… with their nephew Jareth, it all had to come out now. He turned back to his wife, seeing the lines that her sacrifices had made etched into her very features. Contrary to popular belief, the Fae could get wrinkles, just not from age. It came from pain, from hardships. Though Yen's couldn't be described as such.
He collected himself, before her bright eyes could settle on him and distract him as they always managed.
"You recall the mess with… with the mortal," he urged, head dipping back to allow the sun to grace him.
"Indubitably, hard not to."
"It happened before the last starborne burst, before the harvest. With Jareth's swift arrival into our courts for the first time in millennia. I… I sent Baran and Arlyn to investigate Jareth's claims, on the off chance that he was indeed being attacked."
Yennifer appeared quizzical, "Why not send Choilleach? He is our best scout, our fiercest protector. Our Jareth deserves nothing but the best…"
Upon her husband's silence, her expression grew inscrutable, "Where was he, Eanraig? Where did you have him posted?"
The quiet grew tense for a few moments. Suddenly the babble drifting up from the markets seemed too loud, too close, for this personal conversation they were having. The King wanted nothing more than to escort her back to their chambers so they could discuss this without fear of eavesdroppers, yet a glance told him she would not be moved.
"I had him watching Jareth's girl, Sarah, at our… school, in the mortal realm. A post which Jaque volunteered to co-attend, against my behest."
"…Of course you did."
"You can judge me when I am finished, my love. Please, I need you to listen. I need you to understand."
And so he told her everything. Even as the suns crossed each other's paths in their inevitable descent from the sky, bathing them in fierce reds and blazing golds, swathes of purple to make a royal weep. They remained upon the marbled bench, tears tracking down his wife's face as he had never wished to see them.
When he finished, his voice was hoarse, his figure hunched over with his hands holding so tightly onto the stone between his knees he sat on his knuckles grew porcelain white. Yennifer had moved to stand, creating enough distance between them that her swirling skirts never drifted near him even as the breeze picked up.
She spoke, finally. Long after Eanraig had made his peace that she wouldn't, that she would merely walk away from him and leave him to fend for himself within the cesspit of regret he had created.
"You know what you have to do then, do you not, Eanraig?"
She wasn't looking at him, busy gazing agonisingly out at the sea of clouds which encapsulated their crystal island. He barely dared to breathe.
"This… this plan, that you hatched with… with Arlyn. I believe it is high time you employ it," her look was pure wrath, finally spinning to fix him with its full intent, "Before that… bitch takes away the closest thing I will ever have to a child! Don't you see what has been happening?"
It was his turn to stare at her piercingly, "We do not know her intentions, we ca-"
"Perhaps not," a cool voice cut in smoothly, "However, I believe I might be able to find out."
Lavanya stood apart from them, close to the adjoining walkway which connected the uppermost markets. While seemingly impassive, her eyes blazed at the pair as if the very ichor in her veins were reflected in them. Perhaps it was. Like Jareth, she had extremely pale iris', though, not as pale as Lachlan's. It was hard to match her gaze for any period of time.
"Lavanya? What… what brings you here?"
She smiled simply, lifting a shoulder at him as she turned to Yennifer, "I came to give my reply to your offer. In light of recent events, it seems I have little choice… and time is short…"
Eanraig looked between bewildered, until she laughed and turned to him with an icy smile.
"I'm moving back into Aurea, of course. I trust that will not became problematic. After all, you'll need all the help you can get if you are to save him."
"J-Jareth?"
Her brow arched, "If you make good on your word, then perhaps not. I mean Xavior. I refuse to standby while my boy's staunch protector and longest friend is executed for her gain, and your stupid, impulsive laws."
She smoothed back her hair and cleared her throat, gazing out over Terauramulis with a thoughtful look, "Besides… you men are practically animals. Miss Williams is going to require a feminine touch if she is to survive here, no?"