Jareth was on his way to his chamber when a sudden thought stopped him in his tracks.
"No. I need to see someone else first."

Without further hesitation, he turned on his heel and hurried toward the grand staircase leading to the upper floors. Taking two steps at a time, his footsteps echoed through the silent corridor. Slightly out of breath, he came to a halt in front of a plain yet welcoming door. He hesitated briefly before knocking.

"Come in?" A bright, friendly voice called from within, and Jareth stepped inside.
"Hello, Mother."

The woman standing before him had a warm smile that could chase away even the darkest of worries. Maria—the woman who had once tried everything in her power to rescue her baby from the clutches of the Owl King. But she had been too late. Jareth, then a small boy, had been handed over to the Owl King by his father, who feared for his own life and reputation. Since then, Maria had lived with him in the world of the Fae, doing everything she could to support her son.

"Oh, hello, my dear son." She giggled softly, her eyes sparkling with affection. 'How do I get the honour of your visit? Is there anything I can help you with?'

Maria looked at him more closely and her expression became worried. His usually immaculately groomed hair was dishevelled, dark circles lay under his eyes and his skin looked pale and unhealthy. Jareth, who otherwise radiated an almost untouchable aura of strength and elegance, looked helpless.

"You don't look well at all," she said placing a gentle hand on his arm. "What's wrong? Or should I ask—who is the reason for it?"

Jareth shook his head slowly, then let out a deep sigh. "'Who' is the right question. I'm completely beside myself. I want so badly for her to be here tonight. But…" He faltered and looked to the floor as though the words were too heavy to be spoken aloud. "But the thought that she hates me is ingrained in my mind. That she never wants to see me again.'

Slowly, he sat down beside Maria on the beautifully carved stone bench by the window. The view outside showed the shimmering hills of the Fae realm, but Jareth found no comfort in that.

Maria turned to him, cupped his face gently in her hands, and made him look at her.

"My dear, dear Jareth," she began, her voice as soothing as a mild spring breeze. "I don't like seeing you like this. You're my son, and I know how strong you are. But sometimes…" She paused, as if trying to find the right words. "Sometimes, it helps to clear your mind and find a distraction. Tonight, you'll have your answer, but until then, you mustn't let this fear consume you. Do you promise me that?"

Jareth looked at her for a long moment before nodding slowly. "I'll try."

Maria smiled and brushed a stubborn strand of hair from his face. "Good. Now go and start getting ready. It's time. The ball starts in three hours."

She kissed his forehead—a tender, loving farewell. Jareth took a deep breath and managed a genuine smile—one that even reached his eyes.

"Thank you, Mother. After our talk and the one with Lynetta, I feel a little better already."

Maria nodded with satisfaction. "See you later, my son. And remember: You're stronger than you think."

Jareth stood up, his shoulders less hunched now. With renewed determination, he finally made his way to his chamber, ready to prepare for the evening.