Chapter Text
Reading the Goblin History Book
-*-
State of New York, USA – Sarah’s Third Year of College
Her homework finished, her study notes printed and safely in her binder, Sarah took a deep breath and smiled. Now, she could read that book with a clean conscience…
She loved books like these… bound in leather, tooled with brass or even gold, there was something more… real, about these old-fashioned tomes. Opening the cover, she could see that the paper (or parchment) within was a lovely antique cream color, the words printed within a variation of a sort of calligraphy, but too uniform to have been done by hand. Perhaps the Othánas used a printing press like the ones from the 1500’s. Unlike some of the medieval manuscripts she’d seen, it was surprisingly easy on the eyes.
Within the first hour, she was absolutely spellbound. Jareth had mentioned that the Goblin Kingdom had broken off from the Fae some centuries ago, and she had naively thought that it was a similar situation to the American colonies in 1776.
It was more like the rebellion of Spartacus, back in the Roman Empire.
While she had been told that the Fae had considered most other races to be their servants, in the case of the Goblins, this was literally true. The Ughlánas were out in the wilderness, eking out an existence as best they could, with the Othánas sending them what food and gear they had, hiding from the hunting parties the Fae would put together with the express purpose of killing them, but the Othánas were pretty much a captive people. The women were kept as domestic servants and sex toys. The men were used for hard labor, constructing their buildings, working the mines and forests and doing any job that was too hard, too dirty or too dangerous for a Fae to undertake. The strongest of them, the ones that had the aptitude for combat, were all sent to what the Fae called the Arena. Something like the Roman Colosseum, captives from all over the Underground were pitted against each other in mortal combat. Jareth’s father, Vesryn Danaaru, was one of those… and apparently the best warrior in the Arena. Fae would come from every corner of the Underground to see him fight.
Jareth’s grandfather was a servant to the Vizier of Ardalon. Prized for his administration skills, his aptitude for languages and his political acumen, Konrad Danaaru made himself indispensable to his master, and while serving him, he had bided his time, gathered his information and made contact with each and every Othánas in Ardalon, secretly coordinating through the Ughlánas a mass rebellion and escape from the city.
While Konrad and his wife Liyarin did not survive the flight from Ardalon, Vesryn Danaaru did. Along with his wife and infant son, Vesryn made his escape to the hinterlands away from the Fae capital, uniting the Othánas and training them in the combat tactics that had served him so well in the Arena. From there, it was mostly guerilla warfare, with the Goblins trying to put distance between themselves and the Fae, while the Fae tried to exterminate what they saw as an existential threat.
What would that have been like for Helayne Danaaru? Sarah wondered. Queen of the Goblins… living in a hovel, scratching out a living while hiding from marauding Fae… all while trying to raise their son…
Jareth. The Goblin King.
-*-
Eight Hundred and Twenty Seven Years Earlier…
Vesryn entered the hut soundlessly, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light of the fire. It mattered little how quiet he tried to be, as he heard the rush of little footsteps to his left. Like lightning, he turned, snatching the little boy in mid-leap, laughing as he swung the child around. Jareth giggled, caught trying to sneak up on him, and Vesryn tormented him with tickling his belly until he howled with laughter.
“Have you been a good boy for your mother, Jareth?”
“Yes, Papa,” he said. Then he looked a little ashamed. “I tried to be…”
Feminine laughter rang out in the hovel, as Helayne moved toward them both. “Oh, he was good. He just… had a little accident during his magic practice.”
Kissing his wife over his son’s head, Vesryn raised a brow. “What kind of accident?”
“He was practicing levitating a small rock. He… accidentally sent the rock flying through the air. At great velocity. It punched right through the front door.”
Vesryn’s eyes flickered at hearing this. Looking back at Jareth, he smiled, “Well, I’ll work with you some more in the morning, while your mother is at the command tent. We’ll see how far you can throw a rock without your hands, only we’ll do it outside, eh?”
Jareth nodded enthusiastically. It was really uncanny, thought Vesryn. Jareth shouldn’t be able to move anything with force at this age… he should barely be able to levitate a small object. It wasn’t just levitation… last week, he’d actually transported himself from one end of the camp to the other. This was a power he shouldn’t have had until puberty, but he had it now. And just last night, he’d banished the trash instead of taking it to the heap as he’d been instructed. That was a skill acquired near adulthood.
Whenever Jareth surprised them with one of his powers (which seemed to be at least on a weekly basis), they resolved to treat it as a matter of course. The last thing Vesryn wanted was for Jareth to be afraid to use his magic, and a great deal of his comfort level would depend on how his parents viewed these little incidents. Thus, each new trick he learned (or performed by some instinct) was greeted without any outward showing of trepidation. If correction was needed, it was done gently and with patient explanations as to why it should be done a specific way. Jareth was a good pupil when it came to magic. He was equally enthusiastic about his combat lessons, as most boys his age were. It was starting to get a bit dicey though, as Jareth had decided to weave some of his magic tricks into his swordplay.
Helayne gave him a significant look, then reached up and caressed Jareth’s hair. “We had a surprise appear for us today,” she said, with a gentle smile. “It would seem that Jareth didn’t want to eat the usual pottage for dinner and instead… thought we’d like a piece of roasted pork.”
“Indeed? And did the pork just… appear?”
Jareth giggled, “It did. I just waved my hand and thought about pork. And there it is!” he said, pointing at the fireplace, where a large piece of meat was roasting on a spit. Vesryn couldn’t help the startled glance he gave Helayne. Conjuring. He was conjuring now.
Carrying his son over to the dining table, he sat and settled him into his lap. “While I’m sure your mother appreciates you helping her with dinner, we have to make sure we do it the fun way when we… wish for something. We have to play the game, you know.”
Jareth looked at him with wide eyes. “Game? What’s the game?”
Vesryn lowered his voice conspiratorially, “Well… if you want to wish for something, you should try to wish for something sneaky. It’s no fun to conjure something so easy… you want to conjure something hard to find. The game,” he said while giving Jareth a gentle squeeze, “is to conjure things without anyone knowing. That’s the hardest of all.”
A gleam of mischief appeared in Jareth’s eyes. “Sneaky, huh? Hmmm. So… instead of taking it from a feast table, I should… take it from the back of the smokehouse?”
“Now, that’s how you play the game,” Vesryn said, laughing. “It’s no fun if they can catch you at it. You want to do it so they don’t even know you’ve done it. That’s how you show how much cleverer you are.” He hugged his son tightly, his eyes meeting Helayne’s. “How about this… next time you want to wish for something, you tell me or your mother. And we’ll give you some rules to the game, just to see if you can do it. I bet you can. What do you think?”
Jareth’s chin came up, “I know I can.”
“That’s my boy,” he said with a grin. “Now… how about we have some of that magical pork?”
-*-
Jareth submitted to his nighttime bath with slightly less grace than he had to the rules of conjuring. Eventually, he was tucked into bed, his father telling him his nightly story. It didn’t take long before he was fast asleep.
Vesryn rose from Jareth’s bed, seeing Helayne standing nearby, watching over their sleeping son. Not for the first time, he wished with all his heart that his parents had survived the flight from Ardalon. Konrad should have been King… not Vesryn. Konrad had the knowledge they so desperately needed. Vesryn was a fighter, not a philosopher. Not a wizard. Goddess knew, he needed Konrad’s wisdom right now…
He moved behind his wife so she could kiss Jareth’s brow. “Conjuring, now?” he whispered.
“Apparently. I thought my heart was going to stop when that slab of meat appeared in the middle of the table. Vesryn… he shouldn’t be able to do that yet. Not until he’s near his majority. How is this even possible?”
“I don’t know. Goddess knows, my own powers aren’t that strong. He’s been using magic during combat lessons… it’s all I can do to counter him, and he’s a child…”
“There’s more. He… he does magic all day, on and off. But… he never seems to exhaust his energy. Transporting should take most of his energy from him, but it doesn’t. He’s been popping all over the camp, without taking a rest, almost like an Ughlánas.”
This truly startled him. “At most, he should be able to do it twice before having to rest and recharge. Are you telling me…?”
“Yes. He popped over to Jenna’s tent, popped back here, then popped over to the storehouse and back. All in fifteen minutes.”
‘Well… it isn’t a long distance…”
“Have you ever seen someone who could do that at any distance? This young?”
Vesryn shook his head, “No. I haven’t. I think tomorrow… we’re going to have to test him. See just how much power he has at his disposal. I’m also going to have to talk to him about exhausting his magic. He might well have a large reserve of it, but he needs to learn not to spend it frivolously, lest there be none left for an emergency.”
“Why… why would he have this power? Nothing in either of our families would indicate this kind of…”
“I don’t know. Unless…”
Helayne looked at him warily, “Unless what?”
“Unless this is a gift from Danu.”
He heard her expel her breath harshly as she turned her face from him. Reaching out, he put his hands on her shoulders, kneading the muscles gently. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? That he be born at this time… with these powers… I have to believe there’s a reason. Maybe he has a destiny…”
Helayne shook her head sadly, “You know what they say, Vesryn. Great destinies lead to grand funerals.” She gazed down at her sleeping son, a tear falling from her eye. “I’m afraid. Afraid of what he will be called to do. Afraid of… what will happen to him.” She wiped the tear away absently. “Forgive me… but sometimes… I even think I’d rather have just… stayed. Stayed and let him be safe.”
Vesryn wrapped his arms around her. “I know, love. And I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that felt the same. But think about it,” he turned her to face him, putting his hand under her chin and lifting her face to his. “He wouldn’t be any safer there. As soon as the Fae figured out how gifted he is… they’d have taken him from us. They’d have taken him and either killed him outright or… sent him to the Arena.” He felt the shudder go through her as she processed his words. He tightened his hold on her and looked down at Jareth. “There’s a reason he has such power. Danu would not have given it to him, just to watch him die needlessly or to use it for the amusement of the Fae. And the best thing we can do right now is see just how powerful he really is.”
-*-
Vesryn amd Helayne Danaaru
Notes:
I hope I got across just how unusual Jareth’s power level really is. No one in recorded Othánas history has ever had the kind of power Jareth can wield (and he’s just a child right now).
And while this wasn’t directly inspired by it, I recall reading the novel “Firestarter” by Stephen King, and thinking to myself… how do you raise a child that has enough power to flatten everything around you with just a thought? How do you teach that child to control their power and not give in to temper or capriciousness? Jareth didn’t want pottage again, so he conjured pork… a dangerous activity (such magic can be traced if someone’s looking for it). How do you teach your kid in such a way that they aren’t afraid to use their power but at the same time, have restraint when they do use it?
I think Vesryn and Helayne are doing the best they can with very little knowledge of how to go about it.
Goblins tend to look at ‘gifts’ like Jareth has as something to be feared. Not the person who has the gift… they don’t fear or discriminate in that respect. What they fear is the reason the gift appeared in the first place. Jareth would never have this power if he wasn’t going to need it, and it is those future circumstances that Vesryn and Helayne view with trepidation.
I was asked by a reader in prior comments if a girl with male-level combat magic would be feared if she appeared one day, and the answer was yes. They would not fear her, personally. They would not look on her as unnatural or otherwise treat her badly. But they would be asking themselves why she had such a gift and what was coming their way that would necessitate it. Vesryn and Helayne both are terrified of what Jareth might have to face someday, given the power he wields.
Chapter Text
He lay there in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling of their little hovel. His wife slept fitfully beside him, sometimes crying out softly. He kept his arm about her, her head on his shoulder, and it was still not enough to give her heart any ease.
While he’d rather die than admit it to anyone but Helayne, Vesryn himself had doubts about the wisdom of the Goblins rebelling. True, their lives were terrible under the thumb of the Fae, but they’d only had to deal with their abuse and contempt. Now… they had to deal with their murderous hatred. And while he himself would rather die standing, with a sword in his hand and taking his enemies to Hell with him, he wasn’t so sure of that decision when it came to the lives of his wife and son.
Growing up, he’d hardly ever seen his father. Konrad Danaaru was servant to the Grand Vizier of Ardalon, and as such was expected to be at his master’s beck and call at all times. Truly, it was a wonder that he’d even gotten enough time away to sire a son on his wife.
Wives. It was dangerous to have a wife when dealing with the Fae. For the last few centuries or so, the Fae would deliberately target married Othánas women for their depredations, knowing that it injured them most profoundly in their souls. It was used as a way to break their spirits and keep them docile, or so the Othánas believed at the time. That the women fought with tooth and claw rather than submit to them didn’t matter. The solution, for a time, was for the Othánas to keep their marriages secret. Couples would no longer celebrate their unions publicly, instead choosing to exchange their wishes in private. Thus, no one was the wiser.
The Fae then changed their tactics. Any Othánas woman was fair game, her reaction to their abuse became an indication in itself as to whether she was bonded or not. This went on for some time, until the men made the collective decision that they would tear the throats out of any Fae that violated their wives, knowing it would result in their own deaths. They had only been prevented from doing so by their wives themselves… but the time soon came when even their pleas could not keep the men from getting retribution. This had predictable results, what with the men enacting a suicidal revenge while their women went to every length possible to hide what was happening to them, to keep their husbands alive.
The only benefit (if it could be called that) was that after a rash of incidents of Fae getting their throats torn out, they quietly decided that the better part of valor was to confine their degradations to unmarried Othánas women and leave the married ones alone. Thus, they did what they could to keep the men and women separate from each other, only allowing them to come together now and then in order to keep producing more Othánas servants. Vesryn himself was only allowed contact with Helayne because the Fae wanted another Arena warrior of his line.
Konrad had discovered the reason that the Fae were almost suicidally fixated on mating with Othánas women. Knowing he would have been killed immediately if they suspected he knew, Konrad kept the secret for a time, waiting until the knowledge was at its most useful. The Fae were worried… their women weren’t breeding, and it was rare indeed to hear of a pregnant Fae female. This wasn’t from lack of trying, they were quite licentious on the best of days, and in trying to procreate, their entire society spiraled into a quest to impregnate their women. They tried everything, special diets, pharmaceuticals, even magic… and still, children weren’t coming. Some said that it was because Danu was displeased with them for their ways. Most of the Fae refused to believe it and took no steps to discover just what may have angered their Goddess enough to stop sending them children.
Unsurprisingly, the Fae came to the conclusion that there was something wrong with their women. There was probably some truth to that, as the extended lifespans from moving Below meant that the Fae’s natural cycles were extended. If a Fae woman was only fertile once per year normally, and the magic of the Underground then stretched that period to ten years, it was almost a miracle that she would be mated at the exact right time to conceive.
Their first solution was to try and use human females as breeding stock. They brought many of them Below, but they quickly discovered that while the humans did conceive children there, they were not Fae. Changelings, they were called… and they were but a shadow of both species. The Fae then tried breeding with them Above, thinking that the magic of the Underground was the cause, but it had the same results. They quickly abandoned breeding with humans and looked to the Othánas.
This was a bigger disaster than trying to breed with humans. The Fae noticed that only bonded Othánas women conceived, thus the reason they had concentrated their efforts on the married women. They didn’t realize that Othánas women could only be impregnated by their life-bonded mates, and in any case, the suicidal retribution exacted by their husbands led them to abandon that project as well.
With Elves, they fared no better. As it was impossible to tell the age of an Elf on sight, the Fae didn’t realize that those female Elves who served them were actually too old to bear children. Young Elven women, those still within their fertile years, were kept far away from the Fae. Any attempt to capture them failed dismally, as the Elves would simply vanish into their forests and thus out of their reach.
Dwarves they dismissed out of hand and were safe within their underground fortresses in any case. Those that did come to Ardalon were all males, anyway.
The truth was becoming brutally clear. The Fae were going extinct.
At first, when Konrad realized what was happening, he’d felt a savage joy. All they had to do was bide their time, and soon the Fae would be too weak to offer any resistance. He started to lay plans for a general revolution, waiting for the exact right moment when the Othánas would turn on their masters, slay them and perhaps take their empire for themselves.
The folly of this thinking was made clear to him when he’d overheard his master, the Vizier, discussing the issue with several of the Fae advisors. They had already considered the fact that the Othánas were likely to revolt if they knew just how weak the Fae position was and had come up with a diabolical plan.
If the Fae were dying out, so too would the Othánas.
This they would bring about by gelding every male Othánas they could lay their hands on. And just for good measure, they would remove all Othánas females to Ardalon proper, keeping them away from the males completely. The Ughlánas would be systematically exterminated, a bounty paid on every dead body the hunters could bring back.
Konrad wasted no time getting the word out to the Othánas about what was to happen. As one, the decision was made to rebel now… escape into the hinterlands and wait out the Fae. In a supremely coordinated operation, every Othánas servant slayed their masters and ran, taking whatever they could carry. The Ughlánas were called to escape right along with them, and the two groups met, melded, and ran for their lives.
Then, disaster struck. Konrad was cornered by a unit of Fae guards. He killed three, but the fourth was able to run him through. Likewise, his wife, Vesryn’s mother Liyarin, was running from the palace with Helayne and Jareth when they too were cornered by guards. Liyarin threw herself at them, slashing, biting, flinging levin bolts, really anything that would keep their attention on her in order that Helayne could take the baby and escape.
Thus it was that Vesryn found himself faced with a task he had never anticipated: leading the escape, when he had no plan. He had no information at all, not even where they were located or where their haven might be. Their exodus became a frantic race to go anywhere, get anywhere… far away from the Fae. But everywhere they turned… they were surrounded.
It was the Ughlánas that showed them where they could go and find a small measure of safety. Leading them to the network of caves and forests that they themselves had hidden in, the Ughlánas taught the Othánas about wilderness survival, while the Othánas were able to provide a level of protection and creature comforts that were unknown to their little brethren. Together, they managed to eke out an existence and hide from the Fae.
And his people… for a reason that Vesryn would never understand, not if he lived to ten thousand years, decided that he should be named their King, in recognition of his leadership.
Leadership. Vesryn almost snorted out loud. He knew nothing of leadership. He was a pit fighter, an Arena champion. All the plans, all the strategies… that was his father Konrad. All that Vesryn could do was teach the Goblins how to fight, which he did to the best of his ability. And for this… they called him King of the Goblins.
And now… there was the matter of his son. When he was born, there was nothing to indicate that he was anything other than an ordinary Othánas infant. This soon changed when he started some simple magic lessons that most children learned at his age. His level of power was easily that of an adult, and apparently it was growing stronger every day. Vesryn had never heard of a grown Othánas being able to do half of what Jareth could do without draining himself dry, and Jareth was still a child. He could only imagine how powerful he would be when he reached adulthood.
If he reached adulthood.
Vesryn had never entertained any illusions about his leadership skills. The fact that it had been fifty years since their exodus, and they were still free was more due to Danu and the Ughlánas’ help than his own wisdom. It was all he could do not to show the people his utter failure to come up with any sort of plan for them, his complete despair at the futility of their existence as it stood. The only person who had any inkling of just how frantic he felt was his wife, and even then… he did his best to hide his terror at the thought of what the future held. He was never meant to lead these people…
But he did lead them. They looked to him, no matter how misguided Vesryn thought they were. And the only thing that kept him from giving in to his despair was the little boy sleeping on the cot at the foot of their bed. Jareth. Their future.
He was quite serious when he’d posited to Helayne that Jareth was a gift from Danu. There was no other explanation. Konrad was supposed to lead them, but he was killed. Vesryn was no leader, no king… but maybe… Jareth was. Maybe it was never Vesryn’s destiny to lead the Goblins to a safe existence… maybe that would fall to Jareth. And that was why he was manifesting powers greater than the entire Goblin population together, all in the body of a child.
With that thought in mind, Vesryn resolved to teach Jareth everything he could… swordwork, magic, and survival. Helayne would educate their son in his letters, history, philosophy, sciences… she had been governess to the few Fae children at Ardalon, she was well able to instill all the knowledge Jareth would need in his capacity as the future Goblin King. She already oversaw the education of the Othánas as a whole, in addition to allocating their collective resources and mediating disputes. He might be the titular King of the Goblins, but everyone acknowledged his Queen as the one who truly led them… and thanks be to Danu that they had her. Vesryn would teach him to fight, but Helayne would teach him how to be a leader to their people.
He could only pray that it would be enough.
-*-
Vesryn Comforts Helayne
Notes:
I have to admit, I feel bad for Vesryn, really. Every parent deals with a sense of inadequacy, but in his case… he feels it as both a father and a King. He knows that he was never meant for leadership on this scale, and that he doesn’t have the skills that Kingship requires. He’d have made an excellent Lord Martial, certainly, but… he grew up relatively uneducated, having been taken to the Arena at a young age. What knowledge he has (beyond combat tactics) is all from his wife. She took on the bulk of leadership of the people, while he kept himself mostly to military matters. Their partnership works, at least as far as keeping the general population alive, but he knows that he’s just not up to formulating any long-reaching goals. While Helayne has the mental fortitude for planning, just basic survival for the Goblins (and raising Jareth) occupies every waking moment she has.
At this point, he thinks that the only thing he can do is prepare Jareth as best he can for leadership, and even then… he feels like he’s inadequate for the job. What he doesn’t realize is that while he may not be the King that the Goblins need, he IS very much the father that Jareth needs, and it is his and Helayne’s parenting that makes Jareth into the King that he eventually becomes.
The Fae society is very heavily based on the decadent Late Roman Empire period in Earth’s history (as well as being inspired by the Valyrians of George R.R. Martin’s Ice and Fire series, which themselves were inspired by the Romans). The Romans were notorious for how they treated the ‘barbarians’ in their society, and I figured the Fae would do the same. The Romans ended up bribing the barbarians to fight for them, only to have them turn against them in the end. The Fae as a whole didn’t make any attempt to reconcile or ally with the Goblins, but what if they had? It might have made all the difference.
Now, a point could be made… yes, Konrad overheard a genocidal plan outlined by the Vizier and his cronies, but how many of the Fae would actually have cooperated with such a plan? While their society is decadent and brutal… like all peoples, there are good and bad individuals to be found. It is certain that at least some Fae objected to the general treatment of the Goblins, and perhaps treated the ones they knew with kindness. Who knows what would have happened if Konrad had simply made the plan public knowledge…
While I understand that Konrad wouldn’t have wanted to trust to the good nature of the Fae around him, and thought the Othánas had no choice… a lot of the hatred the Fae have for the Goblins now is due to them killing their masters on the way out. It was done to create chaos and deal a blow to the ability of the Fae to pursue them (and it worked, to a point) but it also had the effect of motivating them to wipe out the Goblins entirely. So, while the Goblins had every reason to hate and mistrust the Fae… that works both ways. Honestly, I’m with Konrad on this one, I personally don’t see that he (or the Goblins) had a choice but to do as they did, however I’m rather a ruthless sort and that’s just my opinion.
And… although I will delve deeper into this event in its own side story… the Goblins did NOT kill any Fae women or children on their way out (although the Fae lied about this and said that they had). No matter how brutal the Fae were, killing an innocent child was anathema to the Goblins and they would never consider doing so. The Goblins’ somewhat chivalrous attitude about women in general meant that they would avoid deliberately targeting them for death as well.
Anyway, this is the main reason why the Fae are bent on exterminating the Goblins and why even centuries later, there is still fear and hatred for them.
Chapter Text
Jareth and Helayne
-*-
One Week Later…
While Sundays were ostensibly a day of rest, the reality was that there was always something that needed doing. Vesryn and Jareth had gone into the woods as they had every morning, practicing Jareth’s magic and collecting firewood, while Helayne had taken the opportunity to wash the family’s clothes and bed linens. Vesryn and Jareth had returned early, and while her husband chided her gently for not waiting for his help with the laundry, she could tell he was distracted. Jareth hovered close by, silently refusing to leave her side regardless of any enticement. Eventually, Vesryn sighed and said he was going to go to the command tent for a few moments and left her with a gentle kiss.
Helayne was now hanging their linen on the line to dry, Jareth quietly handing her the wooden pins. She smiled sweetly at him as she took the next, stretching one of Vesryn’s shirts and clipping it to the thin rope strung between the hovel and a nearby tree. He was unusually quiet today, returning from the woods with his father in a somber mood. She could tell from Vesryn’s behavior that they’d had some sort of discussion… and from Jareth’s she knew he wasn’t happy about it. She didn’t ask any questions, knowing that Vesryn would tell her all about it when he returned from the command tent.
For the last week, Vesryn had spent every morning working with their son, testing his powers, his energy levels and his limits. Sometimes, Jareth came back from these mornings and needed a nap. Sometimes not. But aside from today, he’d always come back with a jaunty attitude, as if proud of his powers, and happy to receive the praise of his parents. Whatever went on today, it had the effect of sending Jareth into a quiet, almost sullen mood.
She didn’t have much more time to think about it before Vesryn returned. Jareth gave him a crooked smile, which told Helayne that whatever Jareth was ruminating on, it was something to do with Vesryn himself.
“Jareth, Lydiah has a treat for you, if you’d like to go get it,” he said softly. Jareth looked at him a moment, then looked at her. She nodded at him encouragingly. He bowed his head slowly and turned to walk towards Lydiah’s hovel. Once he’d gone out of earshot, Helayne sat down on a stump near the clothesline, preparing herself for whatever Vesryn wanted to discuss.
“I… know that I should have talked to you about this first, but…” he said haltingly. His expression was both grave and yet held a curious sadness. Helayne put her hand on his arm encouragingly. “While we were in the woods, I received word… last night, the Fae… they came upon a small group of Othánas and their Ughlánas. The adults… they told the Ughlánas to flee with the children… so they transported here. Some of the adults did too, but… there were some who had… exhausted themselves trying to give the rest enough time to transport out. They… didn’t make it.”
“How many did we lose?” asked Helayne.
“Three warriors… and one of the women. The rest… made it out.” He sighed. “We’re making room for them as best we can, but… one of the children, a young boy about Jareth’s age… it was his mother and father that didn’t make it out.” He looked at Helayne somberly. “You know that everyone has taken someone in… and…”
“You want to bring the boy here,” she said softly. “That’s what you spoke with Jareth about this morning.”
“Yes. I should have asked you first, I know, but… I needed to make sure Jareth understood the situation before I took that step. He does understand, although he is not pleased at the idea. It is my hope that perhaps he might come to terms with it in time. We’re the only family that has room…”
“Of course, we take him in. You already knew that I would insist upon it, which is why you told Jareth before me.”
At this, Vesryn laughed. “You know me well, love. I thought it prudent to speak to Jareth first, let him express his opinion. If he feels that he has some say in the situation, it will go far towards his acceptance of it.”
Whatever else Vesryn was going to say was forestalled by Jareth’s return. He was smiling, holding a huge melon. “Look, Momma! Lydiah gave us a melon!”
“Oh, that’s lovely, Jareth. Why don’t you put it on the table inside? We can have some after lunch.” She watched as he disappeared into their hovel. As she turned back to face Vesryn, she saw Merriane coming toward them, a small, platinum-haired boy walking next to her. Jareth came out of the hovel and stood at her side, watching the boy impassively.
Merriane placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Garthan, this is Vesryn Danaaru. He’s the King of the Goblins. And this,” she indicated Helayne, “is his wife, Queen Helayne. They’re going to take care of you.” She looked over at Jareth. “Jareth, this is Garthan Miriso. Garthan, this is Jareth Danaaru.” Jareth nodded at the boy woodenly, but the boy just looked at all of them, wide-eyed. His gaze settled on Helayne, his ice blue eyes calling to her in mute appeal.
She knelt before him, meeting his eyes at his level and giving him a sweet smile. “Hello, Garthan.” The boy opened his mouth as if to speak, tears welling up in his eyes, but no words would come. Helayne gently wrapped her arms around the child, who all but collapsed against her, weeping silently. Vesryn knelt alongside them, placing his hand on the boy’s back and murmuring to him.
Jareth turned and went inside the hovel without a word.
Young Jareth
-*-
For the last week, the family had adjusted themselves to having another child in the home. Vesryn took Garthan and Jareth into the forest and cut some thin trees with which they built another cot. The child had nothing… no clothing, no toys. The Ughlánas only had enough time to grab him and transport him and the other children to safety. Thankfully, he was the same size as Jareth, if a bit more slender. While Jareth was not happy to be sharing what few clothing items he had, he kept his feelings to himself.
Unless given a task or activity by Vesryn, Garthan for the most part stayed right at Helayne’s side, clutching her skirt. It was almost as if he was afraid to let her out of his sight, even for a moment. She made sure to distribute her affection evenly between the two boys, which Garthan loved and Jareth… well, Jareth wasn’t happy about sharing that either.
Garthan was an affectionate child, even more so than Jareth was, but his affection was given in physical terms, such as hugs, a hand on the arm, his head resting on their shoulders. When he spoke, he sounded almost hesitant, as if he didn’t really relish using his voice much. There were times when Helayne could tell that he wanted to speak out, but… it was as if the words would get stuck in his throat. Little by little, she was able to draw him out, at least around the family.
Jareth was not handling it as well as Helayne would have liked. While never cruel to the boy, he also wasn’t exactly warm to him. He watched him with a veiled resentment, and sometimes there was hurt in his eyes when she or Vesryn would give Garthan any affection. Things came to a head as they were walking back from her morning session in the command tent, when Garthan had given her a flower he’d picked. She could see the emotions playing out across Jareth’s face as she hugged Garthan in thanks. This needed to be addressed. She should have done it sooner…
“Garthan, would you be so kind as to ask Ronna if she has some salt that she can spare?” asked Helena when they had entered their hovel. The boy nodded happily and scampered off. She turned to her son with a gentle smile, “Jareth… come here.”
Always an intuitive child, he knew that this was going to be a discussion. He obeyed her with only a little sullenness, seating himself at the table in front of her.
“I know what you’re thinking. You don’t understand why you should have to share the attention and affection of your parents with another boy who is not of your blood. I understand why you might feel that way. But I would ask you this… have you considered what that boy is going through right now?”
Jareth’s expression turned contemplative. He’d seen Garthan crying silently to himself at night. Helayne saw this remembrance in his eyes and softly continued, “He no longer has a mother, or a father. He has no one. No one to take care of him… no one to teach him… no one to love him. Jareth… how would you feel if that were you and not him?”
She watched his face closely, seeing his look of horror… then fear. He met her gaze with eyes that were swimming in unspent tears. She took his hand and squeezed it gently, “It is my hope that… should such a thing ever come to pass… someone would be kind to you. Shelter you. Love you as their own and teach you what you need to know.” She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, “We should always look upon another’s misfortune with an eye to what we ourselves would wish for, should we be in the same situation. And if it is within our power to help, even if only a little… then we should do so. Lest someday it is us that are suffering, and no help to be found.” Jareth met her gaze solemnly, understanding shining out to her through his eyes.
And from there, his attitude toward Garthan went through a drastic change. He made an extra effort to be friendly and include the boy in his activities, shared whatever he had with a cheerful heart, and eventually fostered a bond with him akin to brotherhood. And Garthan, for his part, became less fearful, his grief began to heal, at least to a point, and he was able to develop much more confidence in himself, simply because Jareth showed confidence in him. Vesryn noticed the difference in both of the boys immediately, and while they didn’t talk about it, he knew she had taken matters into her own hands and smoothed the situation over.
She watched the two boys as they played with some wooden soldiers Vesryn had carved for them. She could hear their mingled laughter and it warmed her heart. She had the feeling that this bond between them would serve them both well in the future.
Young Garthan
-*-
One month later…
Vesryn raised his hand, halting their patrol group in its tracks.
It was a camp… a Fae camp. From what he could see, there had probably been three of them. A hunting party, no doubt. He strained his ears for signs of more hunters in the forest but heard nothing. Cautiously, he and his unit moved into the remains of the camp to look around.
The first body had a gaping, ragged hole where his throat had been. Judging from the look of surprise on the Fae’s face, he clearly hadn’t been expecting his demise. As he moved toward one of the tents, he saw a pair of boots, attached to some legs, sticking from the opening. Quickly poking his head in, he saw that this one had been stabbed, several times, in the back. As he glanced up, he saw Kervain motion him over to another tent. This one had a Fae lying in a cot, his throat slit. That made the third member of the usual Fae hunting party.
Hmm… this one first, then the one in the other tent, and then the one in the center of the camp. Quite methodical.
He scanned the area again… nothing. And yet, he could feel eyes upon him. Not exactly hostile, but definitely wary.
“Kervain, take a flight of the perimeter. Make sure there aren’t any other hunting parties nearby,” he whispered. With a nod, Kervain shimmered into his owl form and took off. “Orian, see if we can salvage anything here. Mendar, go with him.” His lieutenant nodded and quietly moved toward the tent with the other warrior in tow. He scanned the forest again.
There… right on the border of the camp. Under the bush.
While he could not see the boy completely with just his peripheral vision, he could see his amber eyes and a tangle of dark hair surrounding a filthy face. Those eyes were watching the other warriors as they rummaged around the tents, then returned to Vesryn, who made sure to look as if he were gazing elsewhere. Again, he sensed wariness, but not necessarily hostility.
What the hell was an Othánas child doing out here? Alone? He wondered. As he looked at the bodies again, he realized that the wounds on the one that had his throat torn out were… small. As if made by a child. Likely, the one that was watching him.
Orian and Mendar walked back over to him. “Sire, the tents are in perfect condition, and from what we can tell, they haven’t been warded. There are some foodstuffs. Some weapons, also in good condition. Clothing. Shall we start packing it up?”
“Yes. And then… I’d like you and Mendar to take the items back to our camp.” He could see their startled looks. “I’ll be fine… just… go ahead.”
At that point, Kervain returned, shimmering back to his Othánas form. “Nothing, Sire. Not for at least a mile around this camp.”
“Good. Help Orian and Mendar pack this gear up and transport it back to camp. I’ll follow along shortly.” After shooting him a puzzled look, Orian moved to comply. They got the equipment sorted and packed down into manageable piles. They’d even stripped the bodies and added the clothing and accessories. Dispassionately, Vesryn stared down at the naked Fae, before waving his hand and banishing the corpses.
“Go ahead, go back to camp. I will follow.” He watched as they vanished, each of them with a pile of goods in their arms. He moved around the area of the camp, satisfied that there was hardly any evidence of its existence. The eyes of the boy in the woods followed him as he went. When he was satisfied that there was no trace to be found of what happened here, he sat upon a fallen log, facing the woods where the boy hid.
He was relatively sure that the hunting party had been oblivious to the boy up until their end. Likely, the boy came upon them and wanted their goods… their food… and now, they had just taken it all. Yet, the boy didn’t try to attack them, probably because he recognized them as Othánas and not Fae.
“My name is Vesryn. I am not here to hurt you,” he said softly. He sat in as relaxed a manner as he could, trying to project that he was no threat. After a long wait, he heard the bushes rustle minutely as the boy poked his head out and looked at him directly.
“Hello,” he said with a soft smile. The boy didn’t return his smile and didn’t reply. Yet, Vesryn could sense that the child understood him. “I saw how you handled those Fae. Nice work.” The boy’s eyes flickered… he definitely understood that. Still, he said nothing. Vesryn slowly reached into the pack slung at his waist, withdrawing an apple. He tossed it on the forest floor between himself and the boy. “You can have this, if you’d like.”
After several minutes, the boy emerged completely from the bushes. He was skinny, borderline emaciated. Vesryn was dimly surprised that he’d been able to kill the three Fae in his condition. The rest of him was as filthy as his face was, his dirty clothing hanging off him in rags. He held a long knife at the ready, his fangs bared in a slight snarl. Vesryn nodded at the apple, “Go ahead. It’s yours.” Quick as a flash, the boy darted forward and snatched the apple, then dashed back out of Vesryn’s reach.
Damn… that boy is quick, he thought. He was glad that he hadn’t shown even a sliver of reaction when the boy grabbed the fruit. He continued to watch the child with a mild expression. The boy devoured the apple, core and all, then looked back at him again, warily.
“Are you all alone?” he asked. The boy didn’t answer, but his eyes narrowed. “That can’t be easy on you. Perhaps you would like to come back with me to our camp. There are other Othánas there… other children.” He gave the boy another gentle smile. “We have food, shelter and warmth. You could… get clean, have a safe place to sleep.” His heart almost broke when he saw the longing in the boy’s eyes. “You could stay with me and my wife. We have two sons… your age, I bet.”
He could see the emotions playing out on the boy’s face. He was hungry, lonely, and mortally afraid of trusting… but he also didn’t know if he would even survive much longer out here without help. Vesryn could see the tears of fear and frustration gathering in the child’s eyes. Slowly, he extended his hand to him, “I can transport you there, if you’d like.” He saw the boy grip his knife, almost desperately. “You can keep that. I won’t take it from you.”
Visibly steeling himself, the boy sheathed the knife and slowly stepped closer, stretching his trembling hand out. Vesryn took it gently. “I’m going to transport us now. You should close your eyes a moment… it will keep you from getting dizzy.”
When the child complied, Vesryn transported them back to the camp. The boy opened his eyes, then looked around with almost shock. He could see the Othánas bustling around, some turning and smiling at him. Then his eyes fell upon an Ughlánas that was teaching a group of children how to weave trap-nets. The child’s lips turned upward slightly in the first smile Vesryn had seen on him. Keeping the boy’s hand in his, he gently tugged him towards his hovel, watching in amusement as the boy’s head swiveled in all directions, taking in the camp and its inhabitants. Soon enough, they came to the small garden by his front door, where Helayne and the boys were spending a quiet hour of leisure. Jareth spotted them first, his brows swooping upward in shock. Garthan’s gaze followed his, then Helayne’s. She quickly gave the boy the once-over, then looked at Vesryn.
Not for the first time, he breathed a prayer of gratitude to Danu for his wife. Instantly understanding the situation, she gave the boy a gentle smile. “Well, hello,” she said. To his relief, Jareth and Garthan had equally welcoming expressions on their faces. The boy looked back at them warily, except for Helayne, who he looked at with almost… hope.
“My name is Helayne. This is Jareth and Garthan,” she said sweetly. The boy stayed silent, but he clearly absorbed the information. Rather than press him to respond, she knelt before him. “Would you like a nice, warm bath? I have some water heating up. Perhaps while Papa and the boys get you a bed made, we can get you all clean? And then some dinner?” The boy glanced back at Vesryn briefly, then stepped towards Helayne in shy assent. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and steered him inside.
-*-
Vesryn in the Woods
-*-
While cutting poles for another cot, he informed the boys about the situation and how he’d found the child. Both of them, he was glad to see, were compassionate. They made haste to assure him that they would do all they could to make the boy feel safe and welcome. They returned to their hut to see him, clean and with dampened hair, seated at the table devouring a bowl of stew. Helayne had given him a haircut during the bath, and his dark locks fell around his face in a tousled manner, his amber eyes glowing almost contentedly.
Vesryn and the boys got the new cot set up, then grabbed themselves a bowl and dished up their dinner. They sat around the table, making very light conversation. Jareth expounded on their latest lessons, Garthan mentioned a particularly rousing game of kickball they’d participated in. Helayne spoke of inane generalities of the camp. The boy’s eyes followed their conversation, his expression indicating that he understood what was said, even if he didn’t speak. After they’d finished eating, Jareth and Garthan cheerily invited the boy to come play with their toys. While the boy didn’t join the play, he did watch them with interest. Vesryn and Helayne moved about the hovel quietly, letting the boys sort themselves out in peace.
After an hour or so, he could see that the boy was getting tired. Helayne quickly got Jareth and Garthan bathed and ready for bed as Vesryn laid out some sleeping shirts for them. Soon enough, they were tucked in and Helayne, perhaps sensing that the boy needed a feminine touch at this point, sat at the edge of his cot as she told them their nightly story. This one was a light, adventurous tale. It only took about ten minutes for her soft, melodious voice to have all their eyes closed in sleep.
-*-
The sound of a soft whimper snapped Helayne from her slumber. She was somewhat accustomed to hearing Garthan in the night… his silent tears for his lost parents seemed to manifest themselves most strongly then. But this wasn’t Garthan.
The whimpers then got louder. She could hear a thrashing sound. A nightmare, then. She rose silently from the bed, making her way to where the boys’ cots were stacked along the wall.
It was the new boy. Whatever was pursuing him in his dreams, it was horrific enough that he was practically screaming and crying at the same time. She sat on the cot, placing her hand on the child’s back and rubbing it softly, murmuring to him. He jerked awake, his eyes wild. His gaze met hers… a dark pool of terror and grief shining back at her. She gently drew him into an embrace as he burst into tears, clutching her tightly.
Helayne said nothing, simply held the sobbing child in her arms and rocked him, her eyes closed, humming a soothing tune. Suddenly, she felt other arms come about her. Opening her eyes, she saw Garthan, hugging both her and the feral child. Only a half-second later, she felt Jareth wrap his arms around them from the other side of her. They all rocked together. Vesryn came to kneel before her, enfolding all of them, projecting a sense of comfort and protection through his embrace. Slowly, the child’s sobs lessened in intensity, and finally faded away. She thought that perhaps he had fallen back asleep, until she heard a voice so soft that she almost didn’t register it.
“M-my n-name… is… Randel.”
-*-
Young Randel
Notes:
I wanted to explore a bit about the trauma that Garthan and Randel had suffered, which made them into the men they were when we first meet them in ‘Kingdom’ and later their own stories of finding love.
In some ways, Garthan was looking for a replacement for his mother, a kind and loving woman, and that role was filled by Helayne (and later Lily, in a way). He was a very sensitive boy, in human terms one might even say he was a bit on the spectrum, and the trauma of losing his parents had far-reaching effects on his personality. As a child, he could be a bit clingy in some circumstances, which his trauma made more acute. As an adult, he needed someone to love (and love him back) but his social difficulties made it very hard for him to develop any kind of relationship outside of his two foster brothers. He was able to relate to older, maternal women but was not comfortable in social situations that required any other sort of personal interaction. In many ways, Lily had to do most of the work in their courtship, but she didn’t mind… she could see the huge, loving heart he had under all the emotional scarring.
For Randel… it is perhaps a compliment to Vesryn and his family that their love and care for him was able to bring him back from the brink of a complete personality breakdown. That he was able to develop a sense of humor and an affable personality is in no small part due to his admiration for and desire to emulate Vesryn himself. But however much his life improved after becoming Jareth’s foster brother… the brutal existence he endured as a small child planted an absolute terror of ever procreating himself (and risking doing the same to his own children). That fear, as Karina noted in ‘Magic’, never went completely away, but he was eventually able to set it aside in order to have a life and family with her. That’s due to the influence Vesryn and Helayne had on him from an early age.
Chapter Text
Father and Son
Eighty-seven Years Later…
Pure silence.
A cold wind drifted beneath Jareth’s nares… a wind as icy and unforgiving as the hearts of the Fae bastards below him. He remained motionless, keeping his feathers tight against his body. His wings folded and his head down, the chill wind rippled across him. It was unseasonably cold for this time of year, and he huddled into as compact a ball as he could make himself.
From his vantage point in the trees, he scanned the camp in front of him. The area was shielded from magical scrying, despite the Goblins’ best attempts, which meant that someone had to sneak in and take a look around.
Naturally, that fell to the Raptor Squad.
Almost as soon as they’d gained the ability to polymorph into their owl forms, Jareth, Garthan and Randel had insisted upon serving with the rest of the warriors, doing what they could to defend their people. At first, they had been assigned to simple guard duties and other low-risk activities, but it was soon clear that to hold them back was a disservice to the Goblins as a whole. Thus, despite his severe misgivings, Vesryn started assigning them special missions, mostly sabotage forays, but sometimes foraging and pillaging operations.
Jareth, being the most powerful magically of the three, was the main asset. Garthan and Randel made it their job to protect him while he used his magic in various ways. They’d quickly discovered that the Fae relied rather heavily on magic for their daily lives, and a small application of Jareth’s powers could reap huge results when sabotaging a water source, or even a sewer system.
They’d even participated in a rescue mission last month. Coming upon a warband, they’d discovered that the Fae had taken a group of Elves prisoner and were bringing them back to Ardalon. It was Jareth’s good fortune that he had taken a few Ughlánas along, who had been assigned to transport whatever goods the Raptors could ‘liberate’. Randel quickly came up with a plan to cause a diversion on the North side of the camp. As the Fae rushed to meet the threat, Jareth, Garthan and the Ughlánas snuck over to the cage that held the Elves and freed them, the Ughlánas transporting them out. Jareth sent a fireball into the Fae command tent as well as the soldiers’ tents, setting quite a blaze, and in the confusion they were able to slip into their owl forms and fly away.
This time, however, their mission wasn’t exactly clear. When Vesryn discovered this area being impervious to scrying, he naturally assumed that there was something here that the Fae didn’t want the Goblins to see. And of all the squads of warriors, Jareth and the Boys were the best choice to send. They were supposed to look around and return with a report.
Thus, Jareth found himself perched in a tree on the perimeter of the camp. Garthan and Randel were similarly perched on the other side. From what he could see, there were three separate units of Fae warbands, their tents spaced around the camp evenly. In the center of the camp was the Weaponsmaster’s wagon, the horses unhitched and tied in a small clearing near the edge of the camp.
Now, that’s odd… they’ve been here for a while, and it doesn’t look like they’re going anywhere, anytime soon… why stop here? With a Fae village not three furlongs away?
His gaze returned to the Weaponmaster’s wagon. Stationed around it was a ring of about six guards. This made no sense… unless…
What’s in that wagon? What could they be guarding?
Casting a deflection shield on himself, he silently glided over to a bush near the wagon. Creeping slowly, one small step at a time, he made his way through the underbrush without even rustling a leaf. Judging from the number of guards these tents could hold, the Fae were determined to protect this wagon from assault, thinking that any enemy would be spotted long enough to sound the alarm. None of them considered that the enemy would swoop in soundlessly to the perimeter and creep in on foot.
No one could have done it except a Goblin.
The lack of planning for a Goblin in owl form to sneak into the camp told Jareth volumes about the quality of the military commander he was dealing with. Moving inch by inch, he proceeded closer and closer to the wheel of the wagon. He was about halfway there when he froze, hearing the footsteps coming closer to the shrub behind which he was hidden. The cover that a moment ago had seemed adequate now felt like a thin veil. He held his breath, not even daring to turn his head to look behind him at the source of the footsteps.
The footsteps stopped, and he heard a muffled curse. Then, he heard the rustling of cloth and the unmistakable sound of a thin stream of liquid hitting the ground. Mercifully, it wasn’t landing on his feathers. He heard the Fae yawn, then the sound of his breeches being hitched back up as he walked away.
Jareth turned his attention back to the wagon before him. Using his Sight, he could detect the wards on the sides and roof of the wagon, but no such wards were placed on the underside. He slipped under the wagon quickly and quietly, shimmering back into his Othánas form while lying on his back. Listening carefully, he was satisfied that no one was in the wagon. Using his claws, he slowly and silently pried at the floorboards near the axles, the mud and moisture there having rotted the wood. After about fifteen minutes of patient work, he was able to remove enough of the floor that he could slip inside.
Stepping gingerly on the floor of the wagon, crouching down a bit so as not to brush the ceiling, he looked about. Instead of the usual swords, shields, bows and bushels of arrows, he saw only boxes. Holding his hand out to one of the boxes, he could detect strong magic, but no warding, no trapping. Slowly and delicately, he opened one of the boxes, every muscle in his body prepared to spring away.
Inside were… sticks. No, not sticks… some sort of rod or wand. The bottom part of each one was wrapped in leather, the tip spiked with a crystal. Magic came off these things in waves…
Oh, shit… I’ll bet these are Karhanna wands…
Like all magical beings, the Fae performed their tricks using the energy within themselves. While their individual pools of magic were greater than those of the Othánas, at least excepting Jareth himself, they were still finite resources. The Fae, however, had developed a way to store raw magical power temporarily, enabling an individual warrior to wield much more magic than they ordinarily would have. Someone holding one of these wands could use the energy stored within to launch levin-bolts… and judging from the amount of magic stored in each wand… one warrior could expend the magic of ten.
A quick look around the wagon and a few mental calculations gave Jareth the total… there were about ten thousand of these things in here. And given the amount of time and energy that charging one of these required, he was looking at years of effort. This was probably their only stash of these in any great numbers. And due to his own sabotage and pillaging efforts, they had realized that to keep them in a village was an invitation to their destruction. Had they not shielded it from scrying, the Goblins might not have even paid attention to this little camp.
They had suspected that the Fae were planning a major offensive against the Goblins, perhaps even a methodical extermination effort. And if each of those warriors had access to these wands… Jareth’s people would be wiped out in short order.
Regrettably, the wands were useless to the Othánas. He would still bring one back for study, perhaps there was a way to make a version that would use Goblin magic as opposed to that of the Fae. Grabbing two of them, he placed them in his mouth, between his teeth, like a horse’s bit. He counted to himself, silently.
One.
Two.
Three.
On three, he used his magic to burst through the roof of the wagon. At the same time, he leaped up, launching an incendiary spell at his feet and transforming to his owl form. He flew upwards as fast as he could, the explosion from his magic singing his own tail feathers.
Almost like clockwork, he heard the screams from the perimeter as Garthan and Randel let loose with their bows. The soldiers wouldn’t know which direction they should go… the inferno from the wagon had now engulfed the tents around it. In his peripheral vision, he could see some of the Fae running around, aflame, and screaming. He flew straight up, determined to get as much distance between him and the Fae archers as he could. Once out of range, he turned toward the predetermined rendezvous point, knowing that Garthan and Randel would follow as soon as they saw his escape.
They rendezvoused quickly, then Jareth transported them to the outer runes. Realizing that the Fae could trace their transportation magic, the Goblins had set up several waypoints for people to transport to and from. This had the effect of muddying the traces of transport magic, making it impossible for the Fae to follow them to their home camps. It expended quite a bit of energy to transport more than once, thus there were always some Ughlánas stationed in rotation around each runed area. As soon as Jareth, Garthan and Randel had materialized, the Ughlánas scampered over to them, taking them by the hand and transporting them to the command tent.
Jareth saw his mother sitting over at the far side of the tent, going over the supply lists and requests from the other camps. She looked up when they’d ‘popped’ in, the relief on her face evident. She moved over towards them, hugging all three of them and examining them closely for any injuries. Behind him, he heard Vesryn stepping forward. All three boys turned to face him, Jareth only belatedly realizing that he still had the wands in his mouth. He took them out from between his teeth and grinned at his father.
“Report, warrior.”
“We found out what they were guarding… these rods. I think they’re Karhanna wands. There was a wagon in the center of the camp, a Weaponsmaster’s wagon. Inside were boxes of these things. I grabbed a couple, then blew up the wagon.”
At this point, Randel spoke. “When we saw Jareth fly out of the wagon, we took out some of the Fae archers on the far side of the camp with our bows, hoping to get them to launch an attack in the wrong direction. It worked… they were so busy looking at what was going on in the center that they weren’t watching where the arrows came from, and they ran around in confusion. As soon as Jareth was out of range, we met him at the rendezvous point.”
Vesryn nodded, “How many Fae do you think were neutralized?”
“At least six just in the perimeter around the wagon,” said Garthan. “Randel and I shot another four of them… and the explosion from the wagon set fire to the tents around it. I saw another three engulfed in flames. So… at least thirteen, but that doesn’t account for those who were perhaps trapped in the tents. Might be more.”
One of the more senior commanders spoke up, “We know they were planning a large-scale sweep of the hinterlands… if they had a supply of these wands, it would have done the work of a force at least triple their size.”
“I calculated probably ten thousand of these things. If you assume each warrior had two or three of them…” said Jareth, slowly.
“Yes… and they’ve been trying to stealthily assemble their forces without us catching on. Given how many we’ve tallied… they have about a thousand warriors that were going to be supplied with these things.” Vesryn gave all three of them a wolfish grin. “It probably took years to stockpile all of those wands. This will set their plans back a bit.”
“Indeed… and I think this calls for a round of ale!” shouted one of the other commanders. A cheer went up around the tent, while the Boys were treated to much back-slapping and congratulations. Jareth smiled brightly to the crowd around him, for the moment feeling rather happy.
Until he met his mother’s gaze.
She was proud as she regarded the three of them, no doubt. But mixed into the pride shining from her eyes was something else.
Worry.
Jareth Burning the Weaponsmaster Wagon
Notes:
These are the kinds of missions The Boys did on behalf of the Goblins. One of the only reasons their people could survive was by staging raids on the various towns that dotted Eire.
It might seem unbelievable that the Fae had let the Goblins survive for as long as they had, but it should be remembered that the Fae are terrified of them. They lost thousands of their people when the Goblins escaped (including many of those in positions of power in Ardalon) which caused massive chaos and confusion in their ranks. All of their usual tactics of hunting parties and warbands fail miserably for the most part, and they’re scrambling to come up with a better strategy. Apparently, they realized that they needed a lot more magical power if they were going to launch any kind of meaningful assault on the Goblins, but also had to be careful since Jareth’s reputation as a saboteur and raider was growing. They didn’t realize that shielding the camp from scrying only made the Goblins more curious as to what they were doing.
The flip side of this is that the Goblins weren’t really able to explore all of their abilities when they were back in Ardalon (and those they did, they kept as secret as possible). If the Fae are trying to learn how to fight this war, so are the Goblins.
Chapter Text
Word of the Raptor Squad’s success had spread amongst the Othánas. The boys were regarded as heroes, to be sure, particularly Jareth. He had rapidly gained an almost mythical reputation as a leader and a warrior. At first, Vesryn had thought that such veneration might cause some friction between the three of them, but Garthan and Randel seemed to share the same admiration for Jareth that the rest of the populace did. Jareth, for his part, made sure to credit his successes to his two comrades, pointing out (rightly) that the only reason he could perform these wonders was because he had two such stalwarts to guard his back. As a result, even the most battle-hardened veterans gave the Raptor Squad a high level of respect.
One interesting tidbit that arose from the various missions that the boys performed was their enlisting the Ughlánas for many of their operations. Jareth had remarked that their little brethren could transport to him wherever he was… somehow being able to get a ‘fix’ on him. Vesryn never mentioned it, but they were able to do the same with Konrad, back in Ardalon. It was how he had coordinated the Revolt, using the ability of the Ughlánas to find him and relay information. As far as he knew, the Ughlánas could not pinpoint Vesryn’s location the same way. Whether this had something to do with the magical power level of Konrad and Jareth, he didn’t know, as the Ughlánas were just as affectionate to him as they were to his son and were themselves a bit frustrated at their inability to ‘fix’ on him.
The hardest part of all of this was his natural desire to keep the boys safe. They were still so young… despite having crossed well into the changes that would turn them from boys into men. It was only five years ago that they’d created their medallions, only ten years ago that they were able to master polymorphing (and to Vesryn’s relief, this was one power that Jareth had acquired at the normal pace). Even that had its oddity… as Jareth’s owl form had luminescent white feathers and was larger than the average Othánas bird body.
Garthan and Randel had just started to learn transporting, while Jareth had employed that skill since his early childhood. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or chagrined that they were displaying a normal power level for their age. He was so used to Jareth turning all of his magical knowledge on its head, that it wouldn’t have surprised him at this point to see them wielding a similarly large power. They did not, although they certainly made the most of what they did have.
What really warmed his heart was how close the three boys were. Closer than brothers. They operated together like a well-oiled machine, each of them contributing their own unique strengths. Randel was the tactician, able to scan a situation and immediately come up with a plan of action. Garthan was the analytical one, able to see the big picture and piece together bits of information to form a whole. And Jareth… he had some of Randel’s tactical brilliance along with some of Garthan’s intuition, topped off with an immensely strong magical gift.
When he’d first started assigning them missions, he tried to keep them at relatively low risk. They performed their duties flawlessly, but Vesryn could tell that they were restless… they wanted to make a difference. This led them to get a bit more creative with their assignments than he had bargained for. Just two years ago, when he’d assigned them to a foraging mission, they’d come upon a dragon’s cave. Jareth, in what Vesryn characterized as a supreme act of stupidity, decided to see if there was anything in the cave that the Goblins could use. He hadn’t counted on the resident dragon actually being in residence when he’d intruded.
Not only did Jareth have to deal with Vesryn’s cold anger when he’d gotten a look at his smoldering son, but he’d had to endure one of the few episodes where Helayne had lost her normally sweet temper. As she shaved the unburnt side of his head and Healed the other, she treated all of their sons to a tongue-lashing of mythological proportions. Having never seen their mother angry before, to say that all three boys were absolutely cowed would have been an understatement. Vesryn himself had stared at this virago he had married with openmouthed awe and wonder.
It might have been merciful to forego giving them a lecture himself after Helayne’s ferocious outburst, but this was too important. He sat the boys down, castigating them for their carelessness, and reminding them that they were too vital to their people to fritter away their lives so foolishly. They absorbed the lecture humbly, but then Jareth had quietly insisted that they needed to do more. They were losing their warriors much too frequently, something needed to be done to turn the tide. He’d agreed that his actions were foolish, but they were driven by a sense of desperation.
As much as Vesryn wanted to say otherwise, deep down, he understood. Slowly, he started assigning them more missions, the danger level going up with the importance of the task. And while his heart was frozen in his chest from the moment they flew off to the moment they transported back… he didn’t see that they had much choice.
Thus, he bent his efforts into utilizing their skills where they were needed most. Garthan had started to organize the Ughlánas into little spies, popping undetected near the Fae to listen in on what they were talking about and report what they’d heard back to him. In this way, he was able to find out many of their plans with enough time to counter them. It would never have occurred to Vesryn to utilize the Ughlánas in this way, and to his surprise, their little brethren were not only flattered to be asked, but actually enjoyed the subterfuge.
Jareth, for his part, was experimenting with his magical power for new ways to help their people. Recently, he’d figured out how to conjure items from Above… something that was untraceable and supplied the camps with a lot of their food and equipment. He conjured books, too, telling Vesryn that he was trying to get some idea of the local geography beyond Eire. This was something the Fae had gone to great lengths to keep from the Goblins, their thinking was that by keeping the Goblins confined to the home island, they avoided the uncomfortable questions the wider population of Fae would be asking and made it easier to eventually eliminate them. No Goblin was ever given any sort of education in geography back in Ardalon, and maps were jealously guarded and warded against theft and conjuring, all the better to hinder any sort of escape. When Jareth had learned of the Above, learned that it was said to be the first incarnation of their world, he had turned thoughtful. Vesryn had the feeling that Jareth was formulating a plan, something that could save their people from the current situation of attrition that they were losing.
It was this that left Vesryn torn. There were things that only Jareth and the boys could do… but at the same time, he couldn’t escape the growing feeling that Jareth was the leader their people needed… the one who would save them in the end. He had to protect him, keep him safe long enough to fulfill his destiny, but… how to do that when every warrior was so desperately needed that even boys barely beginning puberty were fighting on the front lines?
It was for this reason that the Boys took over the combat lessons for the young Othánas. This freed up the veterans for other operations when the Boys were in camp. What surprised him was how good of a teacher Randel turned out to be. Endlessly patient, he was able to bring his students up in skill with a speed that shocked even Vesryn. But even more shocking… he included girls in the lessons.
As Vesryn watched him drilling his pupils, he had been utterly surprised to discover that half of them were female. Even more surprising, the girls did very well, their nimbleness a good counter to the greater strength of the males. Randel appeared to be teaching them to use those traits to their fullest. Right now, he was sparring with a young girl, two wooden long-knives in her hands, and Vesryn watched with admiration as she used her slighter form to literally dance away from Randel’s sword swings. It took a while, but Randel finally scored a ‘kill’ on her.
“Very good, Laylah. I want you to work more with that left arm, though. We want both hands to have equal speed and strength.”
The girl nodded, grinning. She moved off to the weapons rack around the training arena and stashed her practice knives. Randel turned and saw Vesryn standing at the perimeter. He walked over to him, a happy smile on his face. “They’re doing rather well, don’t you think?”
Vesryn nodded, “Indeed. But… I see you have girls in the lessons… you’re not planning on putting them into fighting units, are you?”
Randel’s face grew grim, the smile wiped from him like magic. “No, not exactly.” Randel sighed, “Jareth and I were talking about it… Garthan too… and, well… it occurred to us that the girls are completely reliant on the men to defend them.” Some of his puzzlement must have shown, since Randel rushed to explain. “Yes, it is our task to protect them, I’m not saying that it isn’t. But… without us, they are defenseless.”
“They do not have combat magic as we do,” Vesryn said. “Because the majority of their magical power is tied up with Healing.”
“True, but… that doesn’t mean they don’t have at least a little of it, especially when danger is present. Momma told me about… forgive me… your own mother. What she did to make sure Momma got away with Jareth. And when we thought about it, we realized that the girls should learn how to use what they have, even if it isn’t at the same level as a warrior. It could make all the difference.” He followed Vesryn’s gaze toward another two young girls sparring together. “We figured we should teach them defensive tactics at the very least, but… also offensive. They don’t have our physical strength, nor our large fangs and long claws, but they have some… and they should be able to use them if they have to.”
“What Randel is trying to avoid saying is that there have been too many situations where we’ve lost women needlessly,” said the voice behind him. Vesryn turned to see Garthan leaning up against one of the wooden pells that ringed the training ground. “The Fae are on to us, in a way. They wait until the men are otherwise occupied to conduct their raids, because they know the women can’t fight back. And while yes… they cannot last long against a Fae warband and its magic… they might hold out long enough for the men to get to them. Hell, they might even catch the bastards by surprise and take a few of them out.”
“And we all know what happens if they kill one of the women. We don’t just lose her… which is an unmitigated tragedy itself. We also lose her man,” said Randel, quietly.
“I’ve already spoken to Hiran about making weapons more suited to the women. Daggers, long knives, lighter swords… and women are well able to draw a bow when taught,” said the third voice behind him. He turned to see Jareth walking toward them. “To be honest, I’d stack Rilanna over there against any of the men in the Goblin Army when it comes to archery,” he said as he pointed over at a young Othánas woman. Vesryn followed his gesture, watching in fascination as the girl planted arrow after arrow into the center of the target. “She’s phenomenal when standing still… but she can also strike nine out of ten targets while running. I’ve asked her to start training the women and the little ones in basic archery,” at this, Jareth laughed. “The men have even come to her for pointers on how to improve their shots. As they should.”
“And… what does your mother say about all of this?” Vesryn asked, curious.
Garthan smiled, “She asked me to start teaching her, too.”
Vesryn shook his head in bewilderment, then moved over to one of the log benches and sat. He looked at all three boys, then at the children practicing, and back at Randel. “Truth be told… I am ashamed that I didn’t think of such a thing sooner. You are absolutely right. How many of our women might have lived if…”
All three boys stepped toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. Jareth looked at him anxiously, “No, Papa. Don’t blame yourself. Goblins have never trained their girls to fight before… there was no way of doing it in Ardalon, and out here… well, basic survival has been the focus, as it should.” He squeezed Vesryn’s shoulder, “To be honest, it didn’t occur to us either until Momma told us about the Elves. How their women are the ones who do the bulk of their defense, as they are stronger magically. But… their men still know how to swing a sword and use a bow. It got us to thinking, our situation is reversed, but why not have the girls able to at least defend themselves if the worst happens?”
“And… you have met no resistance? If you have, I will issue a command…” he started.
Garthan chuckled, “Momma already did. But honestly, she didn’t have to. The girls were all enthusiastic… the grown women, too. And the men, well… they all seemed to feel a sense of relief that their women will have one more tool at their disposal to keep themselves safe and were encouraging them to learn.”
Vesryn gave them each a smile of admiration. “I agree… and I’m proud of you all for thinking on how to improve our chances of survival. Best you go see to your students, then,” he said with a nod toward the training arena. The boys grinned happily, moving over to where the young ones were practicing.
He sat on the log, shaking his head in wonder. All three of them had come so far… and their skills and strengths complemented each other seamlessly. And now… innovation. In a very real sense, they weren’t restricted by ‘how things are done’ because they had no real idea of how things used to be. They looked toward how they should be and took steps to make it happen. They were the future of the Goblin people, Vesryn could feel it, and as he watched them laughing and sparring together with their pupils, he wished with all his heart that he could know that they would prevail… that they would be all right in the end… that they…
He felt the tingling deep in his mind, spreading outward and causing his vision to swirl into chaos. Curiously, this didn’t alarm him… somehow, he knew that he would come to no harm. The swirls of color slowed, coalesced, until he was gazing at a scene before him. The vision was a little distorted, almost as if he was viewing it through thick glass, but he could see it all the same.
Outdoors… he was outdoors in what looked like a park, but like no park he’d ever seen before. It was… plain, unornamented. A span of closely clipped grass with some trees and a path. His gaze was drawn to a girl, an adolescent girl with long, dark hair, piled on her head and crowned with false flowers. She was wearing some sort of costume and playing with a rather fluffy animal. Human… she was human. And this… was Above.
The girl had fiery green eyes, and a spirit that shined out of her like sunlight. There was something almost magical about her… and the longer Vesryn looked at her, the more he knew of her… her strength, her imagination, her loyalty… he liked this girl, liked her immensely…
His attention was caught by a movement beyond the girl… a luminous white barn owl… Jareth… he’d come to perch in the tree near the girl. As Vesryn watched, the girl noticed Jareth in the tree… walked over to talk to him. He couldn’t hear what was said, but he knew what was happening… this human girl was his son’s heart-bonded mate…
Daughter… Vesryn thought to himself, smiling softly…
His vision swirled again and merged into a room inside a castle… a bedroom. In the bed was a dark-haired woman, clad in a night dress and sipping something from a drinking vessel. He looked at this woman closely, realizing she was an older version of the girl in the park. She was propped up in the bed, smiling at the man who paced nearby. Vesryn turned his attention to the man and his breath caught.
It was Jareth. He was older… maybe by a few hundred years or so, but clearly still a young man in his prime. He was wearing finely made clothing, his hair neatly braided, his face serene and happy. He looked so much like Helayne in this moment… and in his arms… he held an infant. He appeared to be singing to the child… Vesryn’s grandson…
The room morphed into another scene, a young, golden-haired man with green eyes stood beside Jareth, looking out the window as they were talking together… and although his facial features resembled Jareth’s wife more, Vesryn could still see some of his own reflected back from this man… Jareth’s son. A sharp one, this lad. He had his mother’s strength of character…
The scene swirled away, to come into focus again outdoors. This time, it was a garden… full of Spring flowers. Before him was probably the loveliest Othánas woman he’d ever seen… she could rival the Fae in terms of beauty… she sat on a blanket, a book in her hand. Like before, he could see into this woman’s soul… her spirit. Gentle, she was. And a bottomless well of love and compassion… she looked up, past Vesryn… her features glowing with delight. He watched as a grown-up Garthan walked over to her… sat beside her. Watched as Garthan offered her his token… watched as he struggled with the words… watched as a look of utter love suffused the woman’s face as she kissed him…
The vision swirled over yet again. This time, it focused on another dark-haired girl… this one an Othánas. She looked familiar… ah… his granddaughter. Her spirit… so like his son’s… and as he watched, she looked to the man standing at the far side of the room… Randel… the love in her eyes was palpable. He saw Randel’s expression of fear… of refusal… of love. He was fighting it…
The scene changed… a ballroom. He could see Jareth and his wife… sitting on thrones. He saw Garthan and his lady dancing… then a hush come over the room… saw Randel stalk in… kiss his granddaughter passionately and then carry her off, to the amusement of the throng around them…
Another change… swirling and focusing… another young woman… riotous golden curls spilling down her back… her brow raised as she gazed at the young man before her… he greatly resembled Garthan… but with a roguish, flirtatious smile he’d never seen Garthan give… and she… she was the very image of Helayne… of Jareth… another granddaughter, then. An iron will, this one had… some sharp edges… and yet a tender heart. As he watched, the young man swept her into his arms and kissed her while she laughed with joy…
Swirling… floating… the scene came before him… the final scene, he could sense it… Jareth. Young… just as he was now. Standing before a crowd of Othánas and Ughlánas… Garthan and Randel behind him… pain and grief engraved in every line of their faces… the people… they were acclaiming him… calling out to him… King of the Goblins…
The scene vanished. The tingling stopped. Vesryn’s vision cleared, his surroundings melded back to what he knew as reality.
He felt a numbness in his limbs… and his mind slowly began to process what he’d seen. What it meant. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to himself in resignation.
He’d better gather the boys. He had a lot to teach them, and not much time to do so.
Vesryn Sees Sarah
-*-
Vesryn nodded in satisfaction at Randel, “Good… very good. You have a gift, Randel. You’re a natural fighter. But you need to work more on your defense. You are so focused on wounding your opponent that you’re letting your guard down too much.”
He turned to Garthan, “You do very well with defense, not much will slip under your guard, but you can be too cautious… you can’t let an opportunity slip by you when it presents itself.” Garthan nodded in acceptance, his gaze focused inward, already analyzing his own performance.
He turned to look at Jareth with a smile, “You are also doing well, but I want you to do more without magic. Your tricks are fearsome, to be sure… but as I’ve told you before… you must be prepared for a time when you don’t have magic at your disposal and must rely on your own physical skill.” At Jareth’s skeptical look, he continued. “Oh yes… magic can be interfered with. You do it to the Fae yourself, do you not? You think your own can’t be countered? I assure you, it can.” Jareth’s expression turned contemplative, then accepting.
“Enough for now. Put your weapons away, then gather around me.” He watched the boys as they cleaned their practice weapons and racked them, trudging back to him quietly and sitting on the ground in a loose semi-circle.
“You boys have come far… and grown… so much. I am proud of you.” The boys exchanged happy grins. “Yes… you have grown. And with growth comes many changes… and the wonders of girls.”
Randel’s expression turned a bit roguish, a slight smile on his lips. He’d certainly noticed the older girls in camp. Jareth’s expression became impassive… he’d noticed them too but didn’t want to show it, although the sparkle in his eyes gave him away. Garthan blushed, but his lips twitched with a smile. It was funny, while training them in the practice ring, the boys were all business… seeing them strictly as students and not as individuals. Outside of the practice ring, however…
Vesryn knew about the river incident… that the boys hadn’t meant to spy on the older girls bathing yesterday… but had been transfixed at the sight… a bit bemused at the feelings it evoked, before running off. Helayne had relayed the events to him with a mix of exasperation and amusement, which was why this discussion was needed.
“You are apparently already aware that there are differences between males and females,” he said with a smirk. Randel outright chuckled, and the tips of Jareth’s ears turned pink, although his expression didn’t change. Garthan’s blush deepened. “You have seen enough of the animal kingdom to understand what parts go where. But what you don’t know… is the emotions that come with mating. And what those emotions will mean to you as Othánas.”
Randel’s face became more subdued, while Jareth’s eyes gained a faint gleam of interest. Garthan looked at Vesryn knowingly… he at least knew where this was going. “Mating with a woman can bring pleasure, at least some measure of it. You might see a girl and your body will react all by itself, in preparation. That’s quite normal, and you will learn to control it with time. Sometimes, you might even feel something of a… buildup of pressure in your nether regions. This pressure can at times be released while you sleep. Or perhaps by more… direct means.” All three boys had red cheeks and ears at this point and refused to look at him or at each other. Vesryn chuckled, “That too, is normal. Anyone who tells you differently is lying.”
He schooled his face into a more serious expression, “Girls experience it too, although with them, it is less visually obvious. As you come closer to your majority, you will start to attract their attention and curiosity. A girl might even wish to mate with you for her own pleasure. That is also normal. You will learn what pleases them if you pay attention, and practice will go a long way in improving your skill. It might well become as common as eating and drinking is to you now.” Vesryn leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “But that is only the beginning. Such mating, while it brings its own mild satisfaction, is a purely physical exercise, and nothing compared to the pleasure and joy you will experience when you take your heart-mate.”
At this point, Garthan was nodding… he’d suspected this already. Jareth looked skeptical, while Randel’s expression became almost mulish. “Some people, they mate as they please until they find the one their hearts bond to. Others prefer to wait, not content with obtaining shallow pleasures. Mating or not is a personal choice you will make to suit yourselves.”
He sighed softly, “But the day will come… when you find a girl who means more to you than a casual tumble. You will feel her spirit… in your heart… in your mind. She will become your world, and you… hers. If she finds you to be worthy of her trust… you will wish to have her claim you as her own. And thus you are hers, and she becomes yours… yours to protect… yours to love.” He picked up his medallion and showed it to the boys. “If she has faith in you, she will wear your sigil… proud to call you hers… and you will want no other. Nor will she. It will be you and her, forever.”
He looked at all of them solemnly, “It is no small thing, to be claimed by a woman. To be worthy of one. This is why we make our sigils when we start to become men, in the hopes that someday a woman will find us worthy enough to trust her entire being to, to bear us children and continue our lines, to give us a stake in the future. And it will be your task to see to her comfort, to her happiness and to her protection. Because she trusts you with so much.”
“So… if I find this girl… I have to stay with just her? Forever?” asked Jareth.
“Yes. But I promise you… you’ll want to. What you gain by having a life-mate is worth more than all the variety in the world. And only when you have won her trust and made this commitment will you know the joy of fatherhood.”
Randel didn’t seem convinced. His eyes haunted, he shook his head. “I don’t want a life-mate. I don’t want… children. Ever.”
“I do…” said Garthan. “Someday… I want what Mama and Papa had.”
Randel snorted, “A quick death?” He seemed to realize that he’d been unnecessarily cruel and hastened to clasp Garthan’s arm. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean that. It’s just…”
“I know, Randel. And… yes… even if it means a quick death. Because the way they loved each other… it was worth it.”
“Not for me,” said Randel. “I won’t be looking for love, not ever. Never.”
“Ah, but love has a way of finding you, whether you will or no,” said Vesryn, chuckling. “And when it does, it will overwhelm you, no matter how hard you try to fight it.” He looked down at Garthan. “You… you’ll get yourself a beauty with a gentle hand and a tender heart, who will be a balm to your spirit.” He looked at Jareth, “Your mate will be the other half of your soul. What you lack, she will give you. She will stand beside you and be your true partner. And you will find her in an unlikely place, at an unlikely time.”
The boys laughed, as well they might. He let them have their fun. They didn’t need to know that he had already Seen their futures.
Just as he’d Seen his own.
Jareth and Helayne
Notes:
You might recall in ‘Kingdom’ that Lily told Sarah that Jareth became King at the equivalent of 14 years old. That’s… right about now.
Vesryn didn’t See his own death, or the circumstances behind it. What he Saw was Jareth being acclaimed King of the Goblins… as an adolescent. He put two and two together and realized that he was going to die in the near future. He was content with his own fate because he was given the chance to see the legacy he was leaving behind in the three boys.
And… it’s a small thing, but I love his reaction to Sarah as Jareth’s future wife… calling her ‘daughter’ with affection. While she undoubtedly wondered from time-to-time what Jareth’s parents would have thought of her, had they lived, we at least can see for certain that Vesryn embraced her as part of his family. You can be sure that Helayne would have as well.
Chapter 6
Notes:
Warning… this one is rough. Violence, death, gore and implied non-consensual sex.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Queen Helayne
Helayne came out of the tent to be greeted by the noon sun. Stretching slightly, she savored the warmth of the sunlight on her face for a few moments before moving toward the well. A cool drink would go a long way toward revitalizing her.
She’d been here at the Errendale camp for the last day and a half, summoned when her cousin Sharra had gone into labor. Vesryn had expressed some misgivings about her attendance at the birth, but the shortage of women available and the fact that Errendale was well within what the Goblins considered ‘safe’ territory was enough to forestall Vesryn’s objections, so long as she returned to the base camp as soon as the birth was over, and mother and child were resting comfortably.
Vesryn’s anxiety had been growing for the past few weeks, to the point that he didn’t want her to leave the base camp under any circumstances. What was maddening was that he wouldn’t tell her why he suddenly developed this almost terrified caution when it came to her safety. He had never been hesitant to share his fears, feelings or misgivings with her in the past, but now… now he kept himself closed off to her, only responding with a slight smile and some meaningless platitudes. This annoyed her, as he’d never brushed off her inquiries before, and he seemed to have forgotten that his aura bespoke of his extreme emotional disturbance.
If not for his aura, she might not have known that something was wrong. He went about his tasks with the same brisk efficiency that he always had. The differences were to be seen when he was home with his family. There was an almost desperate sadness in his aura as he interacted with the boys, and sometimes she caught him gazing after them with an almost grieving expression. That same sadness and grief were manifest when he’d embrace her, too. He would hold on just a shade tighter… a moment longer… than usual. He spent every moment that he had available with her and the boys, almost as if he were trying to pack as much as possible within the hours of the day.
And Jareth… the way he would interact with Jareth was different, too. He had always treated their sons equally, and still did. But there were moments lately where she’d catch his gaze on Jareth when he didn’t know anyone was watching. There was the sadness she had come to expect recently, but there was also… fear. Not fear of him, but fear for him. Then he’d glance at their other two sons and his eyes held an almost pleading expression… as if he were silently begging them for something. But what?
Resolved that she would demand an explanation upon her return, Helayne took a few handfuls of water to drink and splash on her face. She glanced around for Kleeg and Hoosa, the two Ughlánas who had transported her to Errendale. They were sitting under an awning near the edge of the camp, both of them perking up when they felt her gaze upon them. She had just taken a step towards them when out of nowhere, Hoosa was struck by an arrow.
At that point, chaos erupted.
A rain of arrows descended upon the camp, most missing their marks, but some hitting their targets. Helayne ducked down near the well, watching as Kleeg snapped the arrowhead that was protruding from Hoosa’s side, then pulled the arrow out. After a few moments, the wound was gone and both Ughlánas disappeared, only to materialize next to her.
“Queenie, let’s go… gotta get you out,” shouted Kleeg.
Sharra… the baby… “No… get the women and children out of here first. I’ll be fine. Go!” She could see their indecision, and it tore at her. “Please… get Sharra and the others… get them safe…”
At that point, the two Othánas warriors that Vesryn had assigned as her guard came scrambling to the well, shielding her as best they could. “Madam, we have to go… they’re all around this camp…”
“We can’t leave these people defenseless,” she countered. Looking back at Kleeg and Hoosa, and putting every ounce of authority she had into her voice, she pointed to the tents. “Get the women and children out. Now.” She turned to the warriors, “When they’re out, we’ll go. Not before.”
One of the warriors looked around, spotted a thick wooden table by the supply tent, then grabbed her arm. The other warrior seemed to know exactly what the plan was, as they hauled her to her feet, shielding her with their bodies and running toward the table. They threw her beneath it, themselves on either side of her. From this vantage point, she could see people running, and fire… they were sending over fire arrows now…
And levin-bolts.
“It’s a gods-bedamned warband! How the hell did they—”
“We can’t stay here, Madam…”
“Then maybe we can draw them off… the Ughlánas will summon Vesryn, I know they will… we have to buy him time…” she said desperately.
Realizing that their position was untenable, the warriors took her arms, pulling her from under the table and preparing to transport her. At that moment, they were surrounded by several Fae. The Othánas turned to meet the threat, keeping themselves between her and the Fae as best they could.
“Run, Madam! Run!” shouted one of them. Immediately, Helayne turned and dashed away, heading toward the woods. She heard the shouts of the Fae as she ran, heard the orders for pursuit given. She plunged through the trees, zig-zagging around them in a random pattern, the noise of the squad behind her getting louder. She moved forward quickly, heedless of the taunts that followed…
And plunged right into another squad of Fae.
Miraculously, the two Othánas had caught up to her. Without stopping for a breath, they’d already killed two of the squad. The fighting around her raged as Helayne ducked down, looking about wildly for an escape route. She felt a hand grasp her, and as she looked up, she could see a Fae staring down at her, the contempt in his gaze almost palpable. He started to pull her towards him.
Helayne flicked her right wrist sideways, the cold-steel dagger she had hidden under her sleeve dropping into her hand. As the Fae pulled her up, she stabbed him, right in the gut. He fell at her feet, the look of surprise on his face almost comical. Another pair of hands grabbed her from behind. Glancing at the fingers, she could see that the hands belonged to another Fae. He held her arm brutally, immobilizing it so she couldn’t stab him. Remembering a trick Garthan had taught her, Helayne went immediately and completely limp, allowing inertia and her own body weight to bring the Fae off balance. As he fell toward her, she locked her teeth on the side of his throat, tearing his flesh away. Blood flooded into her mouth, making her gag, as the hapless Fae collapsed atop her. She crawled out from under him, evading the grip of another, only to be grabbed around the waist. As she was whipped around to face the Fae bastard, she placed her hand on his chest. A bolt of yellow energy pulsed from her hand, and she smelled the burnt flesh as the energy exploded out of the Fae’s back. His grip loosened, she turned to run towards the forest.
Then an impact on the back of her head sent her crashing to the ground and everything went black.
-*-
She came back to consciousness, lying on a hard surface. Opening her eyes slowly, she realized that she was on the central wooden platform in the middle of the camp. She was lying in the center, her back against the message post. Her hands were tied tightly behind her, her ankles bound. Oddly, she wasn’t gagged. How foolish of them.
Without moving her head, she let her eyes drift around her. Near her feet, she could see a pair of small legs… Ughlánas legs… sticking out from beneath a net of some shimmering silk. By the faint glow coming off it, the net must have been enchanted in some way. The smell of burnt flesh drifted to her from the small body. Her heart filled with agony as she realized this little one had tried to rescue her… no doubt thought he could transport her out but had been killed in the attempt.
Through her tears, she said a silent prayer for her little kinsman and the brave warriors who tried to protect her, then let her gaze roam around the camp, drifting over the immediate area and noting the wards set up near the platform. She didn’t know much about Fae battle magic, but she imagined that the Ughlánas who had tried to rescue her had come very close to succeeding, thus the wards to prevent others from popping in. As she looked beyond them, she noticed the absence of any other Othánas women. The Fae didn’t seem to have captured them, which meant that the Ughlánas had been able to get them out. She let out a soft sigh of relief.
At the sound of her sigh, two booted feet came into her field of vision. From the elaborate gold tooling on the leather, she could tell that they belonged to a high-ranking Fae. She felt one of his hands tangle in her hair while the other grabbed her by the arm, dragging her up. She kept her gaze unfocused as he leaned in nose to nose.
“Where’s your man?” he growled. “If you tell me… maybe you live.” It took all of her will not to flinch at the heat of his breath on her face, stinking with wine. “WHERE IS HE?!” he shouted. She couldn’t suppress the instinctive cringe from him, which seemed to give him a bit of satisfaction. He put his hand to her throat, moving his lips to her ear. “I know who you are. I remember you. The teacher.” Helayne kept her expression blank. It would do her no good and much harm to confirm his supposition.
He stuck his tongue out, tracing the folds of her ear. She shuddered in revulsion. “Oh yes, I remember you. And I know who your man is.” He pulled back a moment to look at her with a smirk. “I used to watch him in the Arena. Quite the fighter. Where is he now?” When she didn’t answer and simply kept staring listlessly in the distance, he started to lean in again.
In a flash, she surged forward, intending to tear his throat out. At the last second, he must have realized what she was about, since he jerked back, turning his head. Her fangs sunk into his lower cheek, and she tore away a goodly piece of his flesh. He screamed, then let fly with a fist to her jaw. Lightning exploded in her head as she fell back. Dimly, she thought it might be a mercy if she was unconscious now… but unfortunately, the Fates decided otherwise. She let her spinning gaze meet his, seeing the rage… seeing the hate. Her jaw throbbing in agony, she smiled.
He reached down for her with a snarl, pulling her up against him but staying out of range of her teeth. “Queen of the Goblins,” he said with contempt, then spit in her face. She kept smiling at him. He turned to the men around him, his grin almost a grimace. “Any of you boys ever fucked a queen?”
Helayne closed her eyes.
-*-
Vesryn and his men materialized at the runes, only to be greeted by a group of frantic Ughlánas. One of them, Kleeg by name, rushed over to him and clutched his hand.
“Kingy… gotta come. Queenie in trouble!”
Before he could even organize his thoughts, Kleeg transported him. Clearing his vision, he could see that he was on the outskirts of a Goblin camp, one of many that dotted the lands. Errendale. Almost immediately, he heard the popping sound as the other Ughlánas transported in, each of them holding the hand of one of his warriors. As they looked around in bewilderment, more warriors were being transported in, these from the main camp.
As he got his bearings, he could hear voices… Fae voices. Three of them, walking towards their position. In a flash, the Ughlánas hid themselves in the bushes and scampered up into the branches, while the warriors took up positions behind the trees, weapons drawn. Vesryn didn’t bother pulling his sword, unsheathing his claws and slipping behind the group soundlessly.
The nearest Fae went down silently, his throat torn from him. Before the other two could react, the Ughlánas leaped upon them, distracting them enough that the Othánas warriors were able to make quick work of them before they could cry out. Wiping their blades on the tunics of the Fae, they turned to him for orders.
“Work your way around the camp. Take out any patrols. Quietly.”
Vesryn made his way silently towards the camp itself, pausing only to gut a Fae who’d gone behind a tree to relieve himself. He dodged behind a tent, crouching low. He was close enough to hear the voices of the warband in the center of the camp but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Slowly leaning forward, he looked around the edge of the tent.
Helayne.
His vision went red… blood red… as he took in her torn clothing, the bruises on her face, the trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. With a supreme act of will, he kept himself calm, looking over at one of his warriors, who had taken up position behind the tent across from him. Taking a breath, he looked back at the center of the camp. On the platform, near his wife, was the body of an Ughlánas. He heard the whispered curse Kleeg had muttered at the sight. He could see the wards that had been hurriedly installed around the platform. Clearly, the Ughlánas had attempted to lay hands on Helayne and transport her out but had been snared by one of those Fae nets. He could only pray that the end had come quickly for his little brother.
The wards meant that the Ughlánas could not transport Helayne out of there. It was possible that they might be able to rush the platform, but… they’d kill her. Frantically, he tried to think of something, some plan, anything that would get his wife away from those bastards and safely home…
Nothing. It was impossible. Even if he carved his way through… he looked back over at the warrior across from him, who met his gaze with a knowing sorrow.
“Kingy… let me try. Maybe…” said Kleeg, his voice agonized. Behind him, Hoosa nodded hopefully.
“No, little friend. We both know it can’t be done. But…” Vesryn paused, took a deep breath. “Find Jareth and the boys. Get them back to the home camp. Stay with him. He’ll be needing you.”
Kleeg looked at him with tears in his eyes, nodding sadly. With a soft little whimper, both of the Ughlánas transported away.
-*-
She lay on the wooden platform, her hands still tied behind her back, her face scraped and bleeding. A couple of her teeth were loose from the earlier blow she’d taken.
The pain was indescribable, both to body and spirit. While she hadn’t expected any kind of mercy from these vermin, she also hadn’t expected the level of savagery they were willing to inflict upon her. Her only solace was that through it all, she refused to scream.
The voices around her were an incoherent mumble. She dimly heard them speaking amongst themselves, their words indistinct. She lay quietly, using every breath to push the pain a bit farther from herself.
Footsteps… running to the platform. An anxious voice. Helayne tried to focus… tried to hear what was said. She heard disjointed words…
“Third squad is gone…”
“Call them in…”
“They’re dead, I tell you!”
“They’re here…”
“They’ll kill us all…”
“We’ve got to get out of here…”
Helayne recognized the voice of the young warrior… the only one who objected to her violation… the only one of the four around her who refused to participate. She opened her eyes and looked at him, her vision fuzzy around the edges. Their eyes met, and… how curious… there was an odd light in those bright gold orbs.
Shame.
This one felt shame. If Helayne didn’t know better, she would swear that there was an apology in his eyes. Not that she would accept it, but… it did perhaps speak of at least some shred of decency buried beneath the degeneracy of the Fae. Pity that they didn’t exercise it more…
And it wouldn’t help him in the end. She knew that Vesryn was out there… she could feel his gaze… his rage. She knew that he had his men with him. Knew that he would exact retribution for what these beasts had done this day. Knew that this warrior would not walk away from it alive, nor would this commander.
And neither would she.
“I know you’re out there, Goblin King!” the commander shouted as he dragged Helayne to her feet, positioning her in front of him as a living shield. “Best you show yourself before I kill your woman!” To illustrate his point, the commander pulled an ornate knife from his belt, laying it against her throat. “Come out! Come out and she might live!”
A hush came over the men around her. Behind one of the tents, in the distance, a shadow moved. Slowly, it came closer. Helayne felt the blade bite into her skin a little, a trickle of blood flowing from the shallow cut.
Vesryn walked slowly towards the platform. His arms were outstretched and empty. She could hear the men around her tightening their grip on their swords as they stepped away from her. The commander kept his knife where it was, only turning enough to watch as Vesryn stepped closer.
Vesryn’s eyes locked onto hers. Beneath the calm exterior, she could see his sorrow… he knew. Knew just as she did, that there was no way out of this. They would kill her, right there in his sight. But she knew, with all her heart, that these men around her would not live to enjoy their victory.
For a few moments, she thought about their sons. She prayed for them, for their strength. Prayed that they would go on. Memories played across her mind… Garthan’s shy smile when he’d bring her flowers. Randel’s gentle teasing when he’d hide her clothespins, only to ‘find’ them on top of her sewing basket. Jareth’s loving expression when she’d run her fingers through his hair as it regrew…
As she met Vesryn’s gaze, she could see that he was seeing the same memories. Suddenly, she understood. He’d seen this coming… somehow, he already knew it would happen. That’s why he’d been so frantic about her safety. Why he’d been so sad and fearful whenever he looked at their sons. He knew. And while part of her wanted to curse herself for her stubborn insistence that she come here; she also knew that it didn’t really matter. What is, is what must be.
She smiled at him softly, projecting her understanding and acceptance through her aura and nodding almost imperceptibly. He smiled back, a wave of love passing between them in that moment. This was transitory. They would suffer here, yes. And when it was over, they’d meet in the Summer Lands, to spend eternity together. With a last, silent prayer for the protection of their sons, she closed her eyes, her lips still turned upward.
Vaguely, she heard the scuffle… heard the shrieks as the Fae nearest to Vesryn were torn to shreds and the battle cry of the Othánas warriors as they joined the fray. In her mind, she closed out the sound, preferring to remember the laughter of her boys. She could picture them, all of them, kicking a ball around their front garden. Vesryn’s bellowing laugh as they got one by him, the boys’ bantering like music to her ears.
She felt the bite of the blade… felt it dragged across her throat and the ribbon of choking agony that followed it. She kept her mind focused on the laughter… the joy. She felt her lifeblood flowing, pouring from her in a rush.
The laughter was still ringing in her ears as she sagged to the ground. It was getting fainter… and fainter… and soon, she heard no more.
-*-
Kleeg materialized beneath the tree that Jareth was perched under, Hoosa right behind him. The Prince looked down at them in shock, quickly shimmering back into his Othánas form and jumping down to the ground.
“What--?”
“You gotta come, Jerry… Kingy say you gotta go back to camp, right now…”
Jareth’s face went pale, “Why? What’s happened? Tell me!”
Kleeg reached out and took his arm, “Your momma… she was at the Errendale camp… Fae came and—” Before he could finish his sentence, Jareth transported right out from under his hand. He looked over at Hoosa in horror. “He’s gonna try to save her... Kingy said—”
Hoosa looked around wildly, “Let’s find Garth and Randy… maybe they can—”
-*-
Jareth materialized at the edge of the camp, one glance enough to tell him what was happening. Running forward, he could see his father’s comrades fighting the Fae soldiers around the perimeter. Their faces were a study in savagery, the hatred spitting from their eyes in angry red waves. Ughlánas were appearing in ones and twos, holding the hands of more warriors and launching themselves at the Fae marauders as soon as they materialized, tearing into them with teeth and claws. As he ran between the combatants, he launched levin bolts here and there at the Fae he passed, looking around wildly for his mother.
He turned toward the center of the camp… saw his father literally ripping a Fae into pieces with his bare hands. He stopped for a moment, frozen in shock, before his gaze drifted to a crumpled form in the distance, covered in blood.
Momma…
Pain such as he’d never experienced before ripped through his body, shredding his heart. He started to take a step, only to feel arms grabbing him. He thrashed, screaming, but the many hands wouldn’t release him.
“You can’t help them, Jareth!”
“You can’t!”
“Go!”
“You have to live!”
“Go!”
He found himself flung to the perimeter of the camp. He stumbled, grabbing hold of a nearby tree, then turned to look back.
And the world exploded into darkness behind his eyes.
-*-
As one, the two Ughlánas scampered around the forest, uncaring about how much noise they were making. After about five minutes, Kleeg felt a swish of air above his head. Looking up, he saw a large grey owl glide over him, then shimmer into Garthan’s Othánas form.
“What the hell, Kleeg? You’re going to bring down the whole garrison on us!” he hissed. Another owl, this one white with black markings, swooped down next to Garthan and transformed into Randel. Randel gave their surroundings a quick scan, then looked down severely at the Ughlánas before him.
“It’s Queenie… the Fae…” Kleeg stammered out.
Instantly, Garthan dropped to his knees before the Ughlánas, meeting his gaze on his level. “Where is the Queen?” he asked desperately.
“Errendale… she went to help Sharra… the Fae, they attacked. She had us take the women and children back to the runes. We went to get Kingy… he told us to get you and Jerry back to base camp, but Jerry… he’s gonna try to save her…”
“Take us there… right now!” said Randel, his voice almost crackling with urgency. Kleeg looked at Hoosa, who nodded, taking Randel’s hand. Kleeg grabbed Garthan’s and imagined the area behind the tents where they had last seen the King. He felt the wave of magic go through him as they transported, opening his eyes and quickly looking around. Yes, they were behind the tents.
Kleeg turned his head toward the center of the camp. One look was enough to make his blood turn cold.
-*-
The roaring in his ears died down slowly. Vesryn’s eyes refocused, seeing the bodies strewn around him. At his feet lay the commander, what was left of his lower jaw still clutched in Vesryn’s claws after having been torn from his face. He opened his hand, barely registering the soft thud as the object within fell to the ground. He sensed his men in a perimeter around him, all of them gazing at him in solemn grief. His eyes drifted between the corpses surrounding him without emotion. Only one body held any interest for him now… only one.
Although not mortally wounded, he felt the strength leaving him, his soul draining away in a stream… along with every beat of his agonized heart. He didn’t have much time. His knees buckled, and he crawled towards her, hands squelching in the blood on the ground, his eyes fixed on that shining golden hair.
With the last of his strength, he reached her. Her eyes were closed, a slight smile still on her lips. Vesryn gathered his wife in his arms, determined that when life finally left his body, it would be while embracing her.
“Jareth…” he whispered. “Forgive me…”
-*-
The Ughlánas had transported them to the spot where they’d last seen Vesryn. Randel looked around frantically, noting the Fae bodies on the ground.
“I think they went off this way. Come on!” He started to move toward the forest when he felt Garthan’s hand clutch his arm tightly enough to bruise, his claws piercing Randel’s skin. He turned to face him, taking in his pale face, bloodless lips and horrified ice blue eyes. He followed Garthan’s gaze to the center of the camp.
Momma…. Papa…
A cry of anguish ripped from him. “Damn you, let me go!” screamed Randel as he tried to run towards Vesryn and Helayne. Garthan had hold of his arm and resisted all of Randel’s attempts to shake him off.
“No! Randel… we have to find Jareth!” Garthan sobbed, tears tracking down his face. He brought his other hand up to clutch him even tighter, “We can do nothing for Papa now.” He shook Randel’s shoulders, his icy gaze boring into him as his grip became almost crushing. “We have to find him…” his voice choked. Both of them were weeping openly at this point, and the only thing holding Randel up was Garthan’s grasp on him.
Carried on the wind through the forest, Randel could hear it… a series of almost unearthly howls. He and Garthan exchanged a look… it could only be Jareth. As one, they turned in the direction of the sounds, both of them running, stumbling at times, scrambling to get to their brother, all while hearing those terrible cries get louder and closer.
They came upon a small clearing, looking in horror at the young Othánas screaming and swinging his sword. Jareth was flailing at a fallen tree, his face a rictus of agony, the magic that was always floating about him now coming off him in angry red waves. He didn’t even see them, so far gone in rage and grief was he, and he kept bringing his sword down in almost frantic movements. At one point, the blade of his sword snapped, but Jareth didn’t pause even for a moment.
“Jareth,” Randel said, softly. He watched as Jareth’s swings at the tree slowed, became choppier, then finally stopped. Jareth looked over at them, eyes wild, mouth gasping for air. Randel and Garthan moved forward slowly, as recognition finally showed itself in Jareth’s gaze. They looked at each other with identical expressions of grief, rage and panic.
Randel put his arm around Jareth, then his other around Garthan. Garthan did the same. After a few breaths, Jareth reached out to each of them. Their foreheads touched, their tears flowing like a river. Dimly, Randel became aware of Kleeg and Hoosa coming upon them and, after a moment, moving silently back toward the camp.
Around them, a cool breeze stirred, ruffling their hair gently, and with every breath, Randel could feel strength returning to him, to all of them, one drop at a time. In his mind’s eye, he could see flashes of Vesryn, of Helayne… of all of them together. Laughter. Affection. Then flashes of the people… Othánas and Ughlánas. They could do nothing for Momma and Papa, but the people… the people needed them. The pain was great, perhaps too great, but with the arms of his brothers around him, he found himself able to endure, even if just barely. The breeze had no voice, not for his ears at least, but he understood what it was telling him. None of them could face this disaster alone, but together… together they would overcome this. They had to.
There was no other choice.
-*-
Mercifully, Vesryn’s soldiers had taken the bodies back to base camp by the time they walked back. Jareth looked down at the Fae corpses, his face expressionless, then went among them, methodically beheading each and every one of them with his broken sword. He piled the heads into a heap on the platform, then waved his hand. A bright blue flame engulfed the pile of heads, and Jareth stood watching, until all that was left was charred skulls. When the flames died down, Jareth raised his boot and crushed the skulls into powder.
There’s a message in this, Garthan thought as he followed Jareth off the platform. Randel fell into step beside him as they walked out of the village, Kleeg and Hoosa scampering quietly behind them. Just as Garthan was wondering if they were going back to the camp, Jareth laid a hand on each of their arms, wisps of blue magic swirling about them. He’d barely had time to close his eyes before they transported.
When he opened his eyes and looked around, he could see that they were right at the entrance of the base camp. Jareth hadn’t bothered with transporting to the runes first. Right behind them, Kleeg and Hoosa appeared, then practically collapsed, the weight of their mourning so heavy that they could no longer stand. From the way the people were staggering around and the muffled sobbing he could hear, it was clear that the rest of the Goblins knew that their King and Queen were gone. The despair was almost palpable, and even the soldiers seemed to wander aimlessly, unsure of what to do. A black pall of grief hung over the camp, a sea of hopelessness and agony that even the other Ughlánas were mired in. He could almost see it reaching toward them with roiling tentacles…
Maybe they think Jareth’s dead too… and with him, all hope.
Garthan would never know what possessed him to do what he did next. Drawing himself up to his full height, he bellowed out, “Othánas! Ughlánas! Behold your King!”
In ones and twos, the people turned, a wave of motion starting from those nearest to them until it reached the far corners of the camp. A strange silence fell over the area, and the pressure of thousands of pairs of eyes was an almost tangible force.
Then it began, slowly. Weakly. But it gathered strength. A sound.
A ragged shout.
It was a wordless cry, ripped from the throats of a grieving people, and it grew from a trickle to a flood, until it washed over them. People came to them… some walking, some running. Some were weeping while shouting, all of them saluting Jareth, the Goblin King.
When they reached him, they reached for him, their hands outstretched almost to assure themselves that he lived, that he was real, that there was some hope to be found in this unmitigated disaster. And Jareth reached back, touching faces, touching hands. Each one of them got the assurance that they so desperately needed.
Jareth stepped forward slowly, one foot in front of the other, going through the sea of people around them. He and Randel followed side by side, one step behind. They proceeded slowly towards the middle of the camp… where the bodies of the fallen were laid out, the center two covered in a Goblin banner.
Jareth knelt between them, Garthan and Randel following suit. Jareth reached out and pulled the fabric away from his parents’ faces. Vesryn was laid out respectfully, with his weapon clasped in his hands and resting on his chest. Helayne lay beside him, her bloodstained face curiously peaceful, a slight smile tilting her lips upward. For the longest time, Jareth simply looked at them. Slowly, he drew the fabric back over their faces again and stood.
“Bear them all away and prepare them for their journey to the Summer Lands,” was all that he said, but a rush of people came forward to volunteer. The stretchers were picked up and taken through the crowd, the people falling silent as they passed through. Jareth watched after them for a few moments, then started walking to the command tent. He stopped at the opening, then turned so that he faced the crowd. Wordlessly, Garthan and Randel took up position beside and a little behind him. As they did so, Garthan noticed that Jareth’s face looked a century older than it had that morning.
“We have lost two great leaders this day,” Jareth said, his voice low yet strong enough to penetrate the crowd. “Leaders who cared so deeply for their people that they were willing to fling their lives down in order to save them. And I…” at this his voice broke. “I have lost not only a mother and father but two of the wisest and most compassionate commanders to ever draw breath.”
He looked down at the ground for a moment, and when he raised his head, his face was cold, hard, resolute.
“But we live. And while we live, we must make certain that we are worthy of their sacrifice.” As he spoke, his voice grew louder and stronger. “There is much to be done, both now and in the future. But we will do it together. Othánas and Ughlánas.” Jareth’s voice carried confidence and a quiet strength. Even after such a loss, he held his head high, his eyes defiant.
Garthan could see the nods of agreement rippling through the crowd. Jareth’s air of steady fortitude was making its way into the hearts around him. Heads that were hung in despair started rising in faint hope. Eyes that were dull with grief started to shine back at him with determination. Jareth could see it too.
“Together, there is no enemy that can stand against us, no matter the odds. We are Goblins. And WE. WILL. PREVAIL!”
The crowd erupted into a roar.
Brothers in Grief
Notes:
This chapter was rough. I had come to love Vesryn and Helayne… and seeing their fate just wrecked me. Even worse, I had to see what The Boys were going through, too. It was actually the last chapter I wrote for this story… I skipped around it until it was the only one left. And… I’d be lying if I said I didn’t shed a tear while writing it.
To be clear… there was no way out of this. That Fae commander had no intention of letting Helayne live. He was going to kill her, regardless, and she knew it. So did Vesryn and his men. Rather than let the commander control the situation, she conveyed to Vesryn her acceptance of their fate, telling him without words that they would go out on THEIR terms, not the Fae’s.
Why allow Helayne out of the base camp at all? While Vesryn figured out he was going to die, he never saw Helayne in that vision. For all he knew, she might have been alive and his death might have come on a regular patrol. Just in case, he kept her close to home. Except this time. Errendale was in the middle of ‘Goblin’ territory… it should have been safe. But the Fae are learning new tricks, just like the Goblins are, and they managed to get through. They didn’t know Helayne would be there, this was more of a psy-op… by striking in what should have been a ‘safe’ place, it was done to strike terror into the hearts of the Goblins. They ‘lucked out’ by eliminating the King and Queen at the same time.
I wanted to give a little more insight into what happens when a female bondmate dies. When a woman speaks the ‘courting words’ (fear me, love me, etc.) it generates the geas that Lily spoke to Sarah about, back in ‘Kingdom’.
If the woman dies, the geas is broken, and the spiritual consequence is the death of the male. It’s not a ‘judgement’ or anything like that… quite literally, half of his soul has been ripped from him when she dies, and he simply can’t survive it.
Interestingly… this does NOT work both ways. If the male dies, the female will grieve (naturally) but she will not die from it. Presumably, this is so their children have at least one parent left to care for them. She will never heart-bond or life-bond ever again. And while technically, a woman could engage in a physical relationship after becoming a widow, they are too emotionally damaged from their loss to even experience sexual desire anymore.
The consequence of a broken geas is why Sarah has to be very careful about exposing herself to danger. One lucky stray arrow fatally striking her would literally kill Jareth too. The Fae don’t know this little detail (the Goblins are careful not to let on) otherwise, they would probably make it a point to target her. They just know that the males tend to go suicidally batshit crazy if their wives are deliberately harmed.
This is the overarching reason as to why women do not serve in the Army. That, and their weaker physical strength and lesser amounts of combat magic would make them very easy targets. The tradeoff to this is their Healing magic, which is extremely powerful (and unique in the Underground, except for the self-Healing of the Ughlánas and certain species of troll). The Fae are unaware of this power in the women at the time of this story, although they eventually learn of it after the founding of the Kingdom.
Also… Goblins cremate their dead and bury the ashes. This is to prevent anyone from using necromancy to reanimate their corpses. Conversely, the Fae bury their dead with a lot of ceremony, believing that they can’t enter the Summer Lands unless the corpse is intact, and the proper rites are given. Jareth beheading the dead Fae and cremating the skulls is indeed a message, that these Fae will wander the afterlife without their heads. He continues this practice even after the Founding, returning the headless bodies of any Fae encroachers. It’s one of the reasons he is so feared in the Underground.
Some of what happened to Vesryn and Helayne was inspired by the movie Braveheart, not a surprise considering one of the songs from that movie is (in my mind) the love theme for them.
And… that picture of the Boys… the AI is amazing at individual pictures, but when you try to do one with two or more people, it gets almost psychotic. Because the AI program was refusing to cooperate with me, I ended up creating three separate pictures of them, which I imported into Photoshop and cut/pasted together. This is extremely difficult to pull off, since each individual picture has its own lighting and shadows, and most of the time, it looks cut and pasted. This one, however, looked really good and I thought it conveyed the grief of the three boys well.
Now… I need to throw myself across my bed and cry for a little while.
Chapter Text
Six Months Later…
“Jareth… here…”
Jareth looked up, seeing that Garthan was holding out a mug of hot, mulled ale. He took it with thanks, blowing on it lightly before taking a drink. He closed his eyes for a moment, content to savor the taste.
“So… you said you needed to discuss something with us. Something you didn’t want to talk about out in public. What’s going on?” asked Randel, seated next to him.
He’d called them both into the command tent, and after dismissing his Ughlánas orderly, sat at the tactical table with a pensive frown. “I’ve been thinking. About… Papa. The Rebellion. Mostly… I’ve been thinking about what our end goal should be.”
Randel looked at him, puzzled. “End goal? Well… survival, for one.”
Jareth nodded, “Yes… for the immediate future. But we need to look into the long term. It’s not enough, Randel. Surviving… isn’t enough.”
Garthan looked just as puzzled as Randel. “But, what else is there? It’s not as if we have any hope of conquering them…”
“No. I don’t mean conquest.” Jareth took another drink of his ale. “Our people need a future… something more than just survival. They need hope.”
Randel’s expression was a bit incredulous. “And how do we give them that? It’s all we can do just to keep them alive.”
“I know. That’s why… I came up with a plan.” He pulled a paper from the pocket of his tunic, spreading it out on the table before him. “This is a map of Eire… it lies here, near this other large island, across from this landmass.” Jareth looked at them both and chuckled wickedly, “They tried to make sure maps didn’t get into our hands… mostly to make sure we didn’t know where to run. But… I pulled one over on them. You see, the Underground… it’s Above… only… not.” He could see they were completely confused. “Never mind. The point is, I was able to obtain a map of this coastline Above. I believe the land we’re on is a copy of that land. The land Above. And this map… judging from the landmarks, shows us to be located here,” he indicated a spot near the coastline. “We get boats… cross the water here and get to the big island… it’s called Pritaní. Work our way across it to the water between it and that landmass, here. Then cross again. We put as much distance between us and the Fae as we possibly can.”
Garthan looked grim, “It sounds like a good plan, but… we have no idea what’s there. Could be more Fae. Could be something worse. We could be heading into a trap.”
Jareth nodded, “Yes… which is why Randel is going to go ahead of us.”
“I am?” Randel asked. “I mean… I will, if you want… but…”
“I do. You are going to take a squad of Ughlánas and at least two Othánas with you. You will cross these waters, cross the landmass. Find us a homeland, a place that’s uninhabited and can be defended. It will need to have resources… stone, wood… arable land and water. It must be far… far away. While you’re looking for our new home, we’ll be doing all we can to get away from the Fae… by moving to Pritaní. We’ll use boats, move under our own power, so they can’t read our transport signatures and find us.”
“The Fae are there, too…” said Garthan.
“Yes, but not in such numbers as in Eire. It would take some time for them to mount any kind of offensive force to expel us. Meanwhile, we hide and hold on, until we get word from Randel that he’s found a place for us.”
“And how do I do that?” he asked.
“Start with short range transports. Let an Ughlánas go ahead of you, since they don’t need a link to transport at will. He can take a look around and if it’s safe, he can bring your party forward, then you can use that spot to transport another distance ahead. You keep going… far beyond the borders of the Fae… out into the wilderness. When you find a place that has what we need, take a rock that has been buried in the ground on the spot. Give it to an Ughlánas. He will transport back to me. They can find me wherever I am. I can use the rock as a link to transport to you and look it over. If it’s suitable… then I will return to our camp and start transporting our population there.”
Garthan looked at him wide-eyed, “You’re talking about… founding a Kingdom of our own.”
“Yes. It’s the only way. They’ll just kill us by ones and twos if we stay here. We need a land of our own, one we can fortify. Grow our own food, use resources of our own. A place where we can rest… where women can raise their families without fear… where men might live long enough to see their children learn to walk…” Jareth’s face turned grim. “Have you noticed? No one is bonding. Heart-bonding, yes… but when is the last time you’d heard that someone life-bonded?”
Garthan and Randel looked at each other, both with a growing expression of horror. It was Garthan who stated the obvious, “No life-bond means no children. No children… means no Goblins.”
“Eventually, yes. That’s exactly what it means. And the women that are having children… after they have their first son and daughter… they’re only bearing males. Do you understand what the consequences of that is?” Randel shook his head.
“It means… that Danu will not bring forth more girls to grow the population. Not until it is safe to do so.” Jareth could see them mentally working out just how severe the situation really was. “She is, however… bringing forth more warriors. That means… we’re headed for more war. If we are going to survive as a species… as a people… we must find a place where we can keep our women safe, where they can feel free to have their families in comfort and security. Only then will Danu trust us with more women in our population.”
“He has a point,” said Garthan, as he met Randel’s gaze. “How are we supposed to establish any kind of population at all if we keep losing our men and females aren’t being born?”
“Exactly so,” said Jareth. “I thought about that when we lost… Momma. She never bore a girl… a sister for us. A wife and mother for someone else. But if she had, and she’d had another child, I know for certain it would have been male… just as all third births have been lately. And that’s if the woman is fortunate enough to actually conceive a third child. Their husbands seem to die before they can even conceive their second. Do you see, now? Women will become rarer than Dragon’s Tears soon… and if we stay here, we will lose the few that we already have.”
Randal groaned, “And here, we’ve been counting on the Fae dying out. From what you’ve said… we’ll die out before they do.”
“If things keep going as they are… yes.” Said Jareth, grimly. “This is why you will undertake this journey. You have an eye for good defensive positions. That’s paramount. But you also know good farmland… how to spot resources. You’ll find our new home. We’ll fortify it, become so entrenched that all the Fae together cannot overcome us.”
“Assuming they can find us, you mean,” said Garthan.
“Oh, they’ll find us. Count on it. But not for at least a century or two. Long enough for us to consolidate our position. Then, they have to figure out the logistics of bringing their armies so far from Ardalon. All to invade a land that we will have become very familiar with… and have prepared for.”
“Jareth… it could take years. Years before I find a place far enough and with everything we need. Can you hold out that long?” asked Randel.
“If we have to, yes. That’s why I’m keeping Garthan here and not sending him with you. If I fall… he’ll need to lead our people when you find our new home.”
“Gah, Jareth… no…” whispered Garthan, his expression almost nauseous.
“Yes. If I fall, you are the Goblin King. But take heart… I don’t intend to fall.”
“I’ll be damned if I let you!” came the growled response.
Randel looked at the map in front of them. “So… we should maybe cross over first, before I go… in order to get some distance between us and Ardalon. It would be a real quick end to the trip if they manage to track me from the start. We need to make it harder for them. Hell, they might not even know a group of us broke off and is exploring the continent.”
“Especially if once we get over to the big island, we scatter. I intend to assign groups of Ughlánas to each group of Othánas in order that we can all keep in contact, but we’re going to melt into the countryside… caves… forests… wherever we can just vanish. As much as I don’t want it to happen, it’s likely that a few of the groups will be discovered. But… so long as the majority of us can elude them… we’ll be ready to fly when we get word from you that our homeland has been found.”
At this, he placed his hand on Randel’s shoulder. “I can’t stress to you enough; how important this is. You must succeed. Our people… all of us… depend upon you finding us a haven.”
“I will. I swear I will or die trying.”
Garthan put his hand on Randel’s other shoulder. Almost as one, Randel and Jareth reached out to Garthan, hands to shoulders, forming their circle… a circle of trust.
A circle of hope.
Jareth Outlines the Plan
Notes:
Why didn’t the Goblins leave Eire (or Ireland) after they ran away from Ardalon? Because they had no idea where they were or what was beyond the island they were on. One of the ways that the Fae kept them under control was to keep them ignorant and uneducated. Helayne was one exception, as she was a governess, but even she wasn’t given any information that would facilitate an escape. Konrad Danaaru was the one that had that information, and unfortunately, he didn’t make it out. That’s why Jareth made it a point to conjure a map from Above and work out where they were actually located. They knew that there were lands beyond Eire but not much else.
Another point to mention: previously, in ‘The Magic of You’, I mentioned that the age difference between Randel and Karina was extremely common. This chapter gives the reason why.
When the Goblins rebelled, there simply weren’t enough females being born, to the point that at the time of this story, the male population outnumbered the female by 3 to 1 proportions. Even after the founding of the Kingdom, it took a very long time before the proportions started to equalize (remember, an Othánas doesn’t reach adulthood until about 200 years). A woman reaching her majority would likely bond almost immediately upon reaching that majority, and would have tons of men falling all over themselves to get her to choose them.
Could an Othánas woman choose not to pair-bond and have a family? Certainly. But it goes against their instincts, for the most part. Again, I would like to reiterate that the males cannot in any way coerce a woman to bond… she has to want it herself. And just because many human women choose not to have families (or delay having them until later in life, as I did) does not mean that an Othánas woman will feel the same. She is not human and has an entirely different set of instinctive responses and behaviors than we do.
So, if men outnumber women 3 to 1, and the unbonded male population was to ever have mates, they would have to wait for them to be born and grow to adulthood. Thus… it was quite common that a male would be much older than his wife. This is also why it was considered perfectly acceptable that Jareth’s best friend would have bonded with Jareth’s adult daughter, a girl he’d known from her birth (I foreshadowed this in ‘Kingdom’ when Lily was telling Sarah about bonding). It happened a lot, all through the Goblin Kingdom.
It should also be noted that while Jareth and the Boys are discussing (and quite worried about) the gender disparity in terms of birthing new Othánas, this should not be taken in any way to mean that they regard women as nothing more than breeding vessels. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Women are very highly valued in their society, and for much more than just breeding. They are the foundation of their civilization itself, and without them… Goblin society would be barbaric indeed. The women are much better at organization and administration than their male counterparts, and much of the decision-making for a family, town, etc. is done by the females for this reason. It’s one of the reasons Jareth was so willing to have Sarah take over a lot of the administrative functions of their Kingdom in whatever way she saw fit… he just naturally assumed she’d be better at it than he was.
The happiness and protection of their women is the entire purpose of a male’s existence (or so they see it). Jareth and the Boys see the lack of reproduction as a failure on their part to provide safety and security for the women, not a failing on the part of the women themselves. If the women don’t want to life-bond… it’s because the men have failed to bring about the circumstances wherein life-bonding is desirable to them.
Also… look at the difference between how the Othánas view this crisis as compared to the Fae. The Fae men blamed their women for their reproductive problems and looked elsewhere for solutions, where the Othánas men looked within, to see what they could improve. I thought it was an interesting contrast.
Chapter Text
King of the Goblins
Five Years Later…
Jareth was in his tent, taking a short rest after the previous night’s operation. Sleep eluded him… the best he could do was to try and force his muscles into a state of relaxation.
Or at least… half relaxation.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually felt at rest. Not since he became King, that was certain. He was always tense, always on alert, even when he was trying to sleep. His senses were so hyper-tuned that it was a rare occasion for him to sleep uninterrupted for more than an hour or so.
It was getting more and more difficult, keeping the people away from the Fae. For the first few years since Randel left, it was simpler. They hid in the wilderness, only occasionally sending the Ughlánas into the settlements to obtain items they needed… items that wouldn’t be missed. Buckets. Blankets. Food. Tools. By spreading out their excursions, they were able to obtain quite a lot of equipment that they would need in the future.
Jareth himself made a habit of conjuring items every night, expending a good portion of his power to get things that the Ughlánas wouldn’t think of getting. Books. Treatises on farming, blacksmithing, leatherwork, mining. Each night, he ran through the inventory with Kelvara, the elderly Othánas widow who was assisting him with supplies and distribution. Her advice was invaluable in determining which skills and tools their people would need most. Food preservation, certainly. Medicine. Architecture and engineering. Looms and spinning wheels. At her direction, he conjured seeds for planting, salt for preserving, an occasional spice now and then for variety. Then he’d conjure the raw materials they would need. Iron bars (which he knew had been pilfered from some Dwarven stockpile) along with armor, weapons and the like.
He took things from Above as well, knowing the humans couldn’t trace him. He suffered some pangs of conscience for this… it was stealing, by any definition, and from people who were not much better off than the Goblins were. But… there really wasn’t a choice, and while he had no issue taking things from the Fae, given their history, taking from the humans was another matter entirely. He tried to restrict himself to taking only raw resources as opposed to actual possessions when conjuring from Above. It was still theft of their labor, and he tried to at least compensate them by leaving what coins the Goblins managed to acquire from the Fae in place of what he’d taken. While the currency itself wasn’t worth anything to the humans, the metal of the coins was. It didn’t soothe his conscience much, but it was at least something.
By only taking a few pieces per location, and always from a different place, the local population of Fae remained relatively oblivious to the presence of the Goblins. Oddly, the Fae themselves aided them in this, however inadvertently. For whatever reason, the nobles of Ardalon didn’t want it to become common knowledge that the Goblins had escaped from Eire and were now roaming the countryside of Pritaní. It might have been to keep the locals from panicking, but Jareth suspected it was more a matter of pride. To warn the local Fae would be to admit their failure… something they would want to avoid at all costs. They had been mounting quiet expeditions to search for traces of the Goblins, and they were getting disconcertingly close.
Their cache of supplies was by now quite large, hidden in a cave complex that was warded and shielded. In this cache was everything his people would need to start their new lives. And still… it wasn’t enough.
He’d surreptitiously marked a good portion of the livestock in the local area. Sheep, horses, cattle, chickens and geese. Some domestic pigs. Doves. Rabbits. When the time came to evacuate, he would snatch them and take them along. In the cache were the materials to build pens, hutches and cotes to hold these animals, as well as whatever specialized tools and feed which would be required to keep them thriving.
To his delight, the Ughlánas had manifested a knack for farming, well able to squeeze double the production from the gardens and crops the Goblins planted. They also took charge of the small amounts of livestock they had on hand, developing an affinity for the animals that Jareth counted as a blessing directly from Danu. The only thing the Ughlánas asked was that they not be the ones to do the slaughtering… having grown affectionate toward their beastly charges, it was just something they couldn’t bring themselves to do. Jareth agreed. He didn’t like slaughtering animals any more than they did, and made sure that the animals suffered no pain, but it still tore at him. Nevertheless, the Ughlánas had more than earned this consideration, and he would damn well honor their wishes, no matter what his own personal qualms were.
Along with slaughtering food animals, Jareth found himself doing all sorts of agricultural and domestic activities. Before they’d acquired horses, Jareth and the other male Othánas hitched their own bodies to plows in order to prepare the rocky ground for cultivation. He’d chopped wood, mined ore for arrowheads, tanned leather, made bows and arrows, pitched tents, and dug latrines. He remembered spending most of last week, standing for hours in frigid water with a net, attracting fish with a bit of magic, that the people then preserved in salted barrels. He also remembered the treat they’d all gotten two weeks ago, when Garthan had found a beehive during his foraging, and brought the honey back to the camp, his face and arms covered in stings.
When not contributing to the needs of the main camp, Jareth and Garthan spent their time moving between the other Goblin camps, hunting, fishing, distributing or acquiring needed goods for them, and sometimes evacuating them when a Fae marauding party got too close. He had done just that last night, only returning to the main camp about an hour ago. He lay on his cot, unable to get warm even under the blankets, his muscles trembling with exhaustion. But still, he could not sleep.
Every time he thought to himself that they couldn’t go on much longer, he was reminded of the resilience of these people. To them, anything was better than being under the thumb of the Fae, and if it meant standing in a pig sty covered in excrement… well, it was still better.
They didn’t know what Jareth and Garthan knew… that the Fae were getting ready to mount a large expedition to Pritaní, with the intention of wiping out the “infestation” of Goblins. Years ago, Garthan had organized a small group of Ughlánas to infiltrate the various noble manors and listen in on the conversations of the Fae. In this way, they had been able to discover their plans more often than not and prepare for them. Last week, the local viceroy had been overheard to say that Ardalon was sending at least a thousand of their soldiers to start systematically searching Pritaní in order to get rid of the Goblins at last. They were due to make landfall in about a month.
Jareth was starting to feel frantic… he’d had no communication from Randel since eight months ago… and he worried that perhaps disaster had struck and his expedition was a failure.
He had just about convinced himself to rise and keep himself busy with a task when he heard the ‘pop’. Opening his eyes, he could see Leef, one of the Ughlánas dispatched with Randel. He looked… skinny, like he hadn’t been eating enough. He was dirty, and stank rather strongly, which was unusual since Ughlánas were just as fastidious about personal hygiene as the Othánas were, even if their table manners left much to be desired.
He couldn’t keep the hopeful smile from his face as Leef gave him a little bow and a grin. “I think we found it, Kingy.” He handed Jareth a rock… no, a block. Some kind of carved stone.
Jareth raised his brow, “What is this? That’s no rock…”
“We found something… something good. Randy says you’ve gotta come see.”
“All right. Let me tell Garthan and I’ll transport. Tell Randel I’m on my way.”
With another grin, Leef ‘popped’ out. Jareth quickly pulled some armor on and exited his tent, wandering around the camp a bit before finding Garthan. He was over by the woodpile splitting firewood, shirtless and covered in sweat. He laid the head of his axe on the ground as he saw Jareth approach.
“We’ve got word from Randel,” said Jareth. “Leef just transported here. Said they found something, and they want me to take a look.”
Garthan closed his eyes briefly. Jareth imagined he was whispering a mental prayer of thanks. “You’re going now?”
“Yes. I wanted to let you know, so you can handle things for a bit. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone… at least a day, I expect.”
“All right.” Garthan embedded the axe on the block and picked up his shirt, putting it back on. “You should take some rations… you don’t know if they have any to spare over there.”
“Good thinking. Leef looked a little peaked… like they hadn’t been eating well.” Jareth waved his hand and some ration bags appeared at his feet. He picked them up and slung them over his shoulders.
“Did he tell you what they’d found?”
“No, but…” he showed Garthan the carved block. “Maybe they found an abandoned town or something. I don’t know. But it must be worth summoning me out there to look at, so…”
Garthan gave him a sardonic smile, “Wouldn’t that be nice… a little abandoned town that we can just move into…”
“Well, I’m trying to dream big. You never know when Danu might be in the mood to grant our wishes,” said Jareth, laughing.
“Jareth… be safe.”
“And you, my brother.”
With that, he closed his eyes, letting the block fix his destination. The blue swirls of magic wrapped around him, and he disappeared.
Garthan Chopping Wood
-*-
He materialized on a small hill covered with soft grass. The temperature was a bit warmer than where he’d been in Pritaní… considering it was early Spring. He looked around for Randel, turning to face the East.
That’s when he saw it.
A structure… no… a maze. A labyrinth. It was enormous, the outer walls easily twenty feet tall. There was a huge iron gate before him. The walls… they were made of the same stone he held in his hand. As he stood gaping at this… wonder, he felt as if he were being watched, and not by something living. Almost as if the maze itself was watching him. Judging him.
He shook off the strange sensation when he saw Randel appear at the opening of a tent pitched near the gate. Like Leef, he’d lost some weight. His hair was short, his chin unshaven. His armor was dented in places, scuffed and dirty. The other two Othánas with him were in a similar state. While Jareth refrained from saying so… they all were just as fragrant as Leef was. That didn’t stop him from enveloping Randel in a bear hug. His relief at seeing him and his group alive and well was overwhelming.
“Sire… have you ever seen such a thing?” Randel asked, smiling.
“No… what… what is it?”
Randel shrugged, “No idea. We came upon it when we were surveying the area. The gate was unlocked. It’s… like nothing I’d ever seen before. But… for some reason, we felt… safe… here.”
The other Othánas nodded in agreement. The ginger-haired one spoke up, “Not sure why, Sire, but… these last two weeks was probably the first time I slept soundly in the last five years. And… do you feel it? Something watching us?”
Jareth nodded, “I do. What is it?”
“Don’t know. But… whatever it is, it doesn’t seem hostile. It’s almost… welcoming. Like it… wants us to be here.”
Randel seemed to agree with that sentiment, judging by his expression. “It’s true… I can’t shake the feeling that we are… welcome here. By whatever this is.”
Jareth turned to the iron gate. “Have you explored this thing much?”
“A bit,” Randel answered. “It seems like a standard maze. Just… huge.”
“No indication of who or what built the thing?”
“No. No writing, no artwork, no carvings… nothing. Just… stone block walls.”
“And no creatures… no animals,” said the other dark-haired Othánas. “Well… except for the occasional butterfly or bird, but… nothing else.”
Jareth kept staring at the structure for a few long moments before shaking himself, then swinging the ration bags off his shoulders. “I thought you guys could use some food, judging by how skinny Leef was. Why don’t you tuck into that, while I take a look around at this… labyrinth.”
They didn’t need to be told twice, eagerly opening the packs and distributing the rations between themselves and the Ughlánas.
To Randel, he asked “So… what did you find out about this area? I assume you didn’t summon me just to look at an ancient maze…”
Randel laughed, “Of course not. First… I should show you where we are on the map.” He pulled out a ragged piece of parchment, spreading it out on the ground in front of him. Jareth squatted down to get a closer look. “Here’s Eire. Here’s Pritaní. We crossed here, then made a series of transports. Every ‘x’ you see is a transport destination. This last one… that’s where we are right now.”
Jareth whistled in appreciation, “That’s… an immense distance. It would take the Fae centuries before they stumbled on us all the way out here.”
“Yes… that was my thought exactly. We found some areas closer to Pritaní, but… all of them had at least one small Fae settlement nearby. I didn’t think we’d want to take the chance of them communicating our presence to Ardalon.”
“Good thinking,” said Jareth.
“To the North, about three hundred miles from here, is the border to a Dwarven kingdom. Thankfully, they didn’t perforate us when we trespassed and just ‘escorted’ us to the boundary of their lands. We flew some scouting missions to the East, South and West. There’s a small Fae kingdom to the West, but it’s at least five hundred miles away. There are small settlements of Elves here and there, a couple of pixy villages, but… nothing else. No buildings other than this one.”
“I noticed there’s a river nearby. And the land looks… good for farming.”
“It is. Good topsoil, and the river is deep and wide enough to serve as transport as well as irrigation. Also…” Randel waved his hand to indicate the area beyond the maze, “This hill sits on top of a geological feature… a hot spring. We can make use of that.”
Jareth kept rotating his head around, looking at the scenery. “Well, it’s certainly beautiful… and it looks like there are some heavy forests over to the East, which we can use for wood… I assume there are no Elves there?”
“No… they’re in the Northwest.”
“We’ll need to establish where they are, so we don’t trespass into their territory. All we need at this point is a quarry…”
Randel smiled, “That’s over there…” he indicated a Southerly direction. “There’s limestone, granite, marble… all kinds of goodies in the hills to the South.”
Jareth laughed aloud, “What about gold? I don’t suppose you’ve found that, too?”
“No… but we probably will. I’m telling you, Jareth… it’s like this land was made for us.”
“Except that someone was here first…” Rising to his feet, Jareth walked to the iron gate, about to reach out to open it, when he heard the rumbling sound.
The gates were opening. By themselves.
“Well… that’s new,” said Randel, looking at the gates wide eyed. “We’ve been here for two weeks and always had to open it ourselves before…”
“An invitation, obviously.” Jareth swallowed hard, then turned to Randel. “If I’m not back by nightfall…”
“We’ll come in after you.”
-*-
Jareth kept his steps slow and careful as he progressed through the maze. The silence was uncanny… not even birdsong penetrated here.
For the most part, he relied on his keen sense of direction to judge how far into the maze he’d gone. It had been at least three hours… he figured that he must be nearing the center at this point. It was impossible to tell, just by looking at the walls. They looked exactly the same… no matter what angle.
As expected, he came upon a clear area, like a small courtyard, with other walled passages leading away from it. The center, no doubt. There was a small stretch of grass and a stone bench near what looked like a fruit tree. As he got closer, he could see that it had lovely, ripe peaches dangling from the branches. How odd. It was Spring… this tree should have blossoms on it, not fruit. His stomach rumbled, and for a moment, his hand twitched, wanting to reach for a peach.
“Nice try. But you’ll need to do better than a Fae trick if you want to commune with me.”
He couldn’t be sure, but he felt a wave of… amusement… washing over him. Amusement that wasn’t his. He bypassed the bench and the fruit tree altogether. He had just taken a step into the Northernmost passage when the ground dropped out from underneath him, and he fell into pitch darkness.
Randel at the Labyrinth
Notes:
Yes, it’s the notoriously enchanted peach tree.
I wanted to show just how primitive and harsh the Goblins’ lives were, when even their King must dig latrines and use his own body to pull a plow. And while yes, he has a phenomenal level of personal energy to draw from when using magic, it is still a finite resource, and one he won’t waste on things that he can just as easily do manually. He’d rather do the digging physically and save his power for conjuring what his people need.
It should also be mentioned that conjuring items can be traced by Underground residents… if you find something missing, you have a little time to trace where it went (and sometimes even who stole it), so Jareth has to be very careful about what he conjures. That’s why Vesryn taught him to do it in a sneaky way. He does conjure things from Above, but remember… on our Earth it is medieval times, so what he conjures from there isn’t all that advanced as compared to today. It also takes more energy to conjure from Above. And while he has no qualms about taking things from the Fae, he doesn’t like taking things from the humans, regardless of how necessary it is, so he makes a point of leaving gold and silver coins that they’ve pilfered from the Fae in place of what he takes from Above. When he teaches Sarah about conjuring, he also teaches her to conjure things that already belong to them, or (as in the case of her Pepsi and pizza) leave currency to pay for it.
Also, at this point, the Ughlánas had not yet gotten the idea that chickens were their reincarnated ancestors. That happened sometime after they’d established the Goblin Kingdom (and might make an amusing side story). In the meantime, I thought it was perfectly logical that they would be skilled at taking care of the livestock but be too emotionally attached to the animals to do any butchering themselves. Jareth’s attitude toward their preferences goes a long way to explain why he puts up with chickens in his castle and won’t eat them in front of the Ughlánas… after everything they’d done for him and his people, they’d earned that respect and he’d absolutely accommodate their wishes.
The name Pritaní is an ancient name for Britain, and I used it here. The Goblins are spread out in the area of southeastern Scotland/northern England. As you learned in ‘Kingdom’, the Underground’s geography matches that of the Above pretty closely, and the Labyrinth (as well as the Goblin Kingdom) is located in Austria/Croatia. The Dwarven Kingdom that Randel mentions is in western Germany. The Fae kingdom he mentions (Iftanzel) is near Brussels, in Belgium. Although we do not meet them in this story, the Strigoi are (of course) in Romania.
Fun fact… In my story, Sir Didymus comes from the area we know as Normandy, France. He is a native to this world, not descended from immigrants from Above. Ludo is also a native and comes from the mountains to the East of the Goblin Kingdom. Hoggle comes from southern Iftanzel.
Chapter Text
Jareth conjured a witchlight, squinting in the darkness.
He was in a pit of some kind, about ten feet on each side. Above him, the hole or passage he’d dropped from had disappeared. He wasn’t even sure how far down he’d fallen, as his impact was minor… almost as if he had floated down.
For a moment, he considered transporting out of the pit, but some instinct told him to stay put. He had a feeling that whatever consciousness existed in this crazy place was going to try and make contact with him.
With that in mind, he sat in the middle of the pit, the witchlight hovering above him. He felt his body relaxing in spite of himself… as if it sensed that he was safe here. It was madness to think so, but that’s how it felt.
Then he scented it… the faint smell of peaches. As the scent got stronger, his body relaxed even more. His eyes started to grow heavy. He was distantly amused… it couldn’t get him to eat the peach, so it changed its plans. His eyes closed, he felt himself being gently laid down, but he was still… awake. Sort of. Dreaming maybe…
**Who are you?**
Without opening his eyes, he whispered, “Jareth. Jareth Danaaru. King… of the… Goblins…” Well now, that was interesting… he hadn’t intended to answer truthfully, but whatever this was… he was compelled to.
And… it wasn’t a voice exactly. At least, not a voice for his ears. He got the vague feeling that it was female, although he couldn’t imagine why.
**Why have you come here?**
Ah… how to answer that question… “I’ve come to find a haven for my people.”
**Are they lost?**
He felt the echoes of despair wash over him. “They will be… if I can’t find them a home.”
**Show me.**
Now, how the hell was he supposed to do that? Before the thought had even coalesced, he found his mind playing out his memories… along with the emotions.
His grandparents… he was just a baby the last time he’d seen them… he watched the memories right along with the entity of this maze… vaguely shocked when he recalled that his grandmother had sacrificed herself so that his mother could escape with him… he didn’t remember seeing that…
His mother. His father. His heart ached as he watched them. Saw them rallying the Goblins… saw the escape to the hinterlands. Saw his parents standing over his bed looking down at him, worry on every line of their faces. He could feel the tears leaking from his closed eyes as he relived the moments of laughter, warmth and affection that made up his early childhood. Then he watched as Merriane brought young Garthan to Vesryn… saw his mother embrace the child…
Saw himself, at first dubious when presented with this boy… then his conversation with his mother that had changed his attitude. Then Vesryn bringing Randel to their little hovel. He remembered that time… when Randel didn’t speak, and they didn’t even know what to call him. Saw himself and Garthan take him under their wing… saw him speak for the first time, telling them his name. Saw Vesryn training them. Watched their missions… the sabotage… the camaraderie… the brotherhood.
And then the memory he dreaded most.
Saw his parents… dead. Saw himself in the woods, howling in agony, chopping at a fallen tree with his sword. Saw Garthan and Randel, equally anguished, reach for him, their circle… saw the Goblins acclaim him as their King…
Saw himself planning this expedition with Randel and Garthan in the tent… the years of hardship… the labor… the dirt, pain and blood. His fear… his absolute terror that the Fae would find his people and he’d have to watch as they were slaughtered before his helpless eyes…
**I see.**
The memory show complete, Jareth laid there… his spirit drained. For long moments it was quiet, both in the pit and in his head.
**I can give you the haven you seek. But I demand a price, Goblin King.**
The center of his mind tingled… a vision coalesced… a castle, in the distance. Around it, a fair-sized city, made of differing districts… peopled with Othánas, Ughlánas and other races… around it… the Labyrinth… huge… encircling the entire city and the farms that supported it…
“What… what would you have of me?”
**That you provide sanctuary for anyone who seeks it in good faith. That you retrieve the lost, the lonely, the broken, the unwanted. Retrieve them and bring them here.**
The vision expanded… Aboveground… children… wished away by unworthy caretakers… the Labyrinth intended to bring the humans down Below.
“Humans… bringing them Below… would that not create the same problems we fled at the Sundering?”
**Not if they become one of us. Together, you and I can change them… to Fae. To Othánas. To Ughlánas too, if they cannot survive otherwise. You have the skill, I have the power you would need.**
Jareth saw the potential immediately. If the humans were changed to Othánas… it would help to mitigate much of the population problems they were currently experiencing. But why the Fae?
**Leverage, Goblin King. Their fertility problems are much more acute than yours.**
Well, that was true. And it might be centuries before the Fae found them in any case…
**I will watch. I will choose those to come Below. You will retrieve them. Change them.**
“How? I mean… what is it that you need me to do in order to… aid you in this endeavor?”
**We shall need a way of spreading the legend of the Labyrinth to those Above. Those who know the legend can then wish the children to me. To us. You will offer them their dreams in exchange. But like so much else… their dreams might not be good for them in the end.**
“It sounds like… a fairy tale.”
He could feel a faint sense of admiration from the entity. **Yes… that would do nicely. And as it spreads, more children around their world can be saved.**
“But… what if the caretaker regrets their wish? People… even Othánas, sometimes make idle wishes that they don’t really understand the consequences of.”
**Then they may make their way through the Labyrinth. You will design tricks. Traps. Ways to delay them. Lethal and non-lethal defenses. Depending on the motivation of the Runner of the Labyrinth… I will choose which tricks to play.**
At this, Jareth was very uncomfortable. The entity must have sensed this since it projected an almost soothing feeling to him. **Fear not, Goblin King. Only those with the darkest hearts will face the lethality of this maze. The ignorant will merely be tested and teased, not harmed. Should their hearts be true and they solve the Labyrinth, they may take the child back.**
It occurred to him… the size of the Labyrinth… extending to encircle the Goblin city… he couldn’t ask for more formidable defensive walls…
**Exactly so. And the lethality of this maze would grow exponentially in the face of an invader.**
Jareth felt as if the weight of a thousand anvils just lifted off his shoulders. He was tempted to agree…
**And thus, we both get what we desire. You get a haven, a safe place to build your Kingdom. I get assistance in rescuing the lost… and with your help, a broader hand to intervene.**
“And you would have my word on that? That I will do this in exchange for that haven?”
**Not just yours, aroon. You are promising for yourself and your heirs to come.**
There wasn’t a choice, really. And to be honest, he could even admire the mission.
“I swear it. For myself and my heirs. That we will work with you to rescue the lost, in exchange for your protection."
**Done.**
There was a blinding flash, bright enough to penetrate his eyelids… and Jareth knew no more.
-*-
He woke to a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was in that central clearing, lying on the stone bench by the peach tree. Randel’s hand was on his shoulder.
“When you didn’t come out, we thought we should come after you. I didn’t expect you to have fallen asleep,” he said with humor in his voice.
Jareth sat up and looked around. It was almost sunset. Something of his confusion must have shown on his face, as Randel’s eyes narrowed at him.
“What happened?”
“Later… I’ll tell you later. For now, we need to make plans. Need to start bringing our people over.”
“Then… this is it?”
“Yes. This is it. This is our Haven.”
Jareth at the Labyrinth
Notes:
Aroon means ‘darling’ in Gaelic.
And now you know how Jareth got mixed up in the whole wished-away thing, and how their city got its name (Caladh means ‘Haven’ in Gaelic).
Note… the Labyrinth is not asking Jareth to take in just anyone. Only people seeking sanctuary “in good faith” are to be considered. The Labyrinth (as we know) can read the motivations of the runners, so it also can read the motivations of those seeking asylum.
Jareth’s experience with the enchanted peach (although he didn’t eat it, he recognized it as the source of his dreaming) was so benign that he didn’t see a problem using it on Runners. Obviously, Sarah saw it differently, but the reason he used such a ‘Fae’ trick in the first place was because it was used on him, and he felt that it was harmless. Jareth has a habit of erring on the side of expediency, and likely didn’t give much thought to it beyond that his end goal was with good intentions.
But as Hoggle told him later… people might think they’re doing good, not recognizing that the means they use to accomplish their goal can be abused. It was a good lesson for him later in life, to make sure that his own motives didn’t trample over knowing what’s right and what’s wrong, and you can bet this is something that Sarah will be keeping a close eye on in their future and straightening him out when he needs it.
This is a HUGE reason why his heart reached for hers back in the day… it knew that she was exactly what he needed, not just someone to love and love him back, or to help him rule the Kingdom and give him children, but someone capable of making him examine his actions to himself and consider whether the ends actually do justify the means. It’s not the only reason he fell for her, not at all, but it is the main reason why she, as an underage human, was a better choice to his heart than all the Othánas women he’d met in his 900 years of life.
Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jareth materialized back at the command tent under Garthan’s startled gaze. It only took a second before he found himself seated at the tactical table; a tankard of ale pressed into his hands.
“Well?” asked Garthan, a veiled hope shining in his eyes.
“He did it. He found us a home,” said Jareth, unable to keep the grin off his face. “And wait until you see it… it’s perfect. I couldn’t have created a better place if I’d had the power to do so myself.”
“Thank Danu,” Garthan whispered. “How far did he end up going?”
“Almost a thousand miles,” said Jareth, reaching for one of the maps. He spread it out on the table and pointed to the location. “There. And the only civilizations around, aside from a few pixy villages and Elven settlements are here and here.” Jareth indicated the location of the Dwarven and Fae kingdoms Randel had told him about. “The Elves will be easy to deal with. They will leave us alone so long as we do not trespass into their forests. The pixies… we will not encroach on their territory either, and as small as their villages are, it’s unlikely that we would interfere with each other in any case.”
Garthan nodded, then raised a brow in inquiry. “But… what was that block, then? Part of a town?”
“No… something far stranger. A Labyrinth.” Jareth shook his head in wonder, “It’s… alive somehow. It has intelligence. It… communicated with me.” He looked at Garthan, who thankfully didn’t eye him with incredulity at what he’d just said. “I can’t explain it, but… it welcomed us. Offered to shelter us and protect us while we build our Kingdom.”
“And… what did it want in return?” asked Garthan, his eyes knowing.
Jareth explained to him how he’d traversed the maze, how it communicated with him, and the deal they had made. He was gratified to see the acceptance in Garthan’s expression.
“Laudable goal. And… a way to get more people. I had been thinking about that, ever since you sent Randel off. Our numbers aren’t really large enough for a viable breeding population. These… ‘wished-aways’ as you call them would be a welcome supplement. We wouldn’t have to worry about inbreeding.”
“My thoughts exactly. The sanctuary in itself was enough to get me to agree, but the possibility of adding to our ranks just made it all the better.”
“But why the Fae? That makes no sense… why would we change some of the humans to Fae? Aren’t we waiting for them to die out?” Garthan frowned. “Sort of defeats the purpose if we’re going to make more of them.”
“Leverage, the Labyrinth said. After I thought about it a bit, I realized what it meant. They’ll find us eventually… and maybe, if we have something to offer them, a solution to their reproductive problems, well… we might keep them off our borders. The Labyrinth will be choosing who to bring Below… and I’ll obviously have first choice whether to keep them for our Kingdom or if they’d be better suited for the Fae.” Jareth sighed a moment, then continued. “The thing is… I didn’t just promise for myself. I promised for my heirs to come. Right now… that’s you and Randel.”
“I… see. Well, as I said, it’s a laudable goal. Should it ever come to that, I will keep your word.” Garthan then looked at him fiercely, “You’d just better make sure it never comes to that.”
-*-
The call went out among all of the Goblin enclaves throughout Pritaní to come to the main camp. Families were trickling in, their Ughlánas in tow, and the whole atmosphere was one of cautious optimism. They knew that a homeland had been found and that they would be escaping far from the Fae, and this gave everyone a sense of urgency.
The first thing Jareth did was assign a group of Othánas and Ughlánas over to the Labyrinth. They worked on constructing shelters for the population, along with assembling the corrals, pens and hutches for the livestock. Once that was done, he’d organized the Ughlánas to transport their cache of goods that they’d been building since they’d first made landfall. He sent Garthan over as well, to organize everything. Randel had transported back to camp last night, distributing the armor and weapons amongst the warriors and organizing them into a defensive perimeter. All of that transporting the Ughlánas were doing was certain to draw the attention of the Fae, even if they couldn’t trace where they were going. They had to be ready for an attack.
All day yesterday, Jareth had been snatching the livestock he’d marked. The camp was in a bit of chaos as the Ughlánas organized them for transport to the Labyrinth. Slowly, order was restored as the animals were brought over. The Ughlánas were working themselves to the bone, emptying the cache, then going tent by tent to move the belongings of the people within.
Randel had brought back a stack of blocks taken from the Labyrinth. Each one of the blocks was given to an unbonded or childless Othánas warrior… the idea being that they would be the first to transport after the women and children were evacuated. Jareth’s reasoning for this was that the older Othánas warriors had already had children… if the worst happened, the younger ones would at least have the opportunity to continue their lines, while the older ones would cover their escape, knowing that their own families were safe. The small contingent of Elves that had joined them when the Raptor Squad had rescued them from the Fae would be evacuated along with the women and children.
Hurry… hurry… he thought to himself. He knew that time was running out. Just as he’d thought that, a huge boulder, glowing with a yellowish green magic, came crashing down from the sky, right in the center of the camp. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but it was enough to panic the civilians. Randel dashed between the warriors, bellowing orders, and they turned almost as one to tighten their perimeter.
“Randel! Get back to the Labyrinth. Tell Garthan to be ready for our people, that I’ll be sending them through.” He turned to the warriors that ringed them. “Those of you with a block… be prepared to go as soon as the women and children are gone!”
Randel went white. “Wait… you can’t…”
Jareth looked at him grimly, “No choice. You know that.”
Randel grabbed Jareth by the shoulders, “NO! We need you, dammit! Who will be our King if you fall here?”
Jareth put his hand on his medallion, yanking it from his neck. “Garthan… Garthan will be their new King.” A flash of light erupted from Jareth’s palm, then he shoved the medallion into Randel’s hand. “Go… for the love of Danu… GO! I COMMAND YOU!”
Tears streaming down his face, with a cry of despair Randel transported away.
-*-
Jareth ran through the camp, telling everyone to grab whatever they could carry and spread the word. People dashed frantically to and from the tents, taking food, tools, weapons, clothes… literally anything they could fit into their arms. The children, thank Danu, were already transported to the Labyrinth by the Ughlánas. Many of the Ughlánas were returning, laying hands on the nearest Othánas and teleporting them away. He grabbed one, Sneep by name, and told him to tell the Ughlánas to concentrate on the women, to get them out first. Word spread almost immediately, as the Ughlánas moved amongst the crowds and transported every female they could get their hands on.
The remaining men were in a perimeter around the camp, shielding the goings on as best they could. Jareth ordered the younger ones to save their power for transport after the women were safely away. The Fae were lobbing more boulders now, magically augmented, and Jareth used his power to deflect the boulders away while he and the other men held off the Fae ground troops. This was going to drain them soon… too soon. As the women were transported, Jareth ordered the younger men to transport, while the elder men were to grab any wounded and fall back towards the cliff. As he reached the edge, he turned to face them, holding the last block to the Labyrinth while reaching down towards the talisman on his belt and taking hold of it.
It was a circle of iron taken from the gate of the Labyrinth to which a large, thick braid of Othánas hair was attached. The braid was comprised of the hair of every single Othánas at the camp, young and older, male and female. An identical talisman hung on a post just outside of the Labyrinth itself.
Five years waiting for Randel to find their home had given Jareth the time to solve the problem of getting their population evacuated. It was Jareth’s habit to always plan for a worst-case scenario, and for him, the worst case would be if the Fae came upon them while they were moving to their new land. He bent his imagination to the problem, then started experimenting in transportation. After much trial and error, he’d discovered that he could transport people between talismans, so long as he had something to link them. Thus, he gathered hair from everyone in camp, creating the two talismans and bidding Randel to hang the other near the Labyrinth gate. Jareth could then use the one at his belt to transport those that remained.
The catch was… he hadn’t had time to figure out how to go along with them. Weaving his own hair into the talisman didn’t work, and transporting everyone would drain him to the point where he wouldn’t have enough energy to follow, assuming he survived it in the first place. This was why he commanded Randel to return and give Garthan his medallion. This act would be proof to the people that Garthan was his chosen heir and would be their King if he fell here.
He clutched both the talisman and the block tightly and closed his eyes. He could sense his magic reaching out toward the crowd before him, wrapping around them, and when he’d gotten hold of every Othánas left in the camp, he magically yanked on the threads that bound them, flinging them toward the talisman by the Labyrinth. He felt the magic leaving him in a flood, as if the blood was draining from his head to his feet to be replaced with ice water. He felt a ‘snap’, right as he collapsed to the ground.
His eyes fluttered open briefly. They were gone. All gone. With the last of his strength, fighting the ice that was crystallizing in every inch of his body, he crawled to the edge of the cliff and pitched the last block from the Labyrinth along with the talisman into the sea.
The last thing he saw before the frigid sensation overtook him was the splash as they hit the water.
Jareth the Warrior
Notes:
While it might seem like a better idea to have everyone transfer under their own power, logistically… it wouldn’t work. Women can transport, but only very short distances. Even having a block wouldn’t have helped them. Men can transport themselves to the Labyrinth, but only if they had the energy to do so. Holding off the Fae was going to take magical power, in shielding if nothing else. This is why the younger ones had the blocks and transported under their own power after the Ughlánas transported the women and children. The elder Othánas warriors were free to use their powers to the limit, since they knew Jareth was going to transport them all himself.
They could perhaps have just transported the people, but they had to get all of their goods and equipment there… thousands of people just plopped into a place with no food, no shelter… they wouldn’t have lasted long. And not only did they have their possessions to send over, but Jareth had spent years collecting and conjuring everything the people would need to survive. They had to stick to the plan if they were going to make it in their new home. If the Fae hadn’t found them, it would have been very orderly, and Jareth would have been able to transport under his own power. It was just bad luck that they’d been discovered before they could finish.
Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Garthan Goes Back
At the Labyrinth…
Garthan was busy directing the Ughlánas to bring all the goods to an area set aside for storage until the rest of the population arrived. It was amazing really, how coordinated the Ughlánas were in transporting in, hurrying to the storage area, unloading and then immediately transporting back to the camp. From what he could see, the entire cache of supplies was now here, under makeshift awnings to keep them out of the sun. Several Othánas were hard at work bringing the farm animals that were transported to the corrals, pens and hutches they’d constructed, soon filling them.
Then he noticed the Ughlánas were bringing children… unaccompanied children. Thinking fast, Garthan directed them to drop the children off by the gate to the Labyrinth. Some of the Othánas that were working with the livestock then dropped what they were doing to watch over them as the Ughlánas brought more and more. To his shock, Randel appeared, just as the Ughlánas started bringing over various adults, then exclusively women, all carrying armloads of their possessions, who were directed towards the gate to be reunited with their loved ones. Then a large group of men appeared… young men.
Garthan ran up to Randel, grabbing his arm. He could see the grief in his eyes as he turned him around. “Where’s Jareth?” he shouted.
Randel’s jaw clenched as he struggled to speak. “He’s bringing them through. He said… he said to get ready.” He put something in Garthan’s hands.
Jareth’s medallion.
“No…” he whispered. “NO!” At that moment, a huge crowd of Othánas warriors materialized around the talisman. He froze in shock.
Oh, sweet Goddess… Jareth… all of them… he won’t be able to transport here…
He turned, dragging Randel along with him. He spotted a sword leaning against the wall of the Labyrinth and snatched it up, putting his arm through the strap. For good measure, he picked up one of the Labyrinth blocks that were stacked near the pile of supplies, thrusting it in his coat pocket.
Randel took hold of his arm, “You can’t! He commanded us…”
Garthan’s face was savage in its intensity. “I’m the Goblin King if he falls… and I’m going to make damn sure that doesn’t happen or die trying.” With that, he ripped his own medallion from his chest and shoved it along with Jareth’s into Randel’s hand. He then grabbed Randel’s head, one hand in back, the other on his forehead. A green light flashed through Garthan’s hand and imprinted itself on Randel. “If we don’t return… you’re the King.”
With that, he transported away.
-*-
He materialized behind a Fae, probably a scout or sentry. Quicker than a snake, Garthan grabbed the scout, clamped his hand over his mouth, and raked his claws across the Fae’s throat, spraying blood in an arc in front of him. As the body fell to the ground, Garthan pulled his sword, looking around frantically for any sign of Jareth.
He ran from tent to burning tent, looking inside each briefly, trying to get a bearing on where Jareth might have fled to. He could hear voices up ahead of him… Fae voices. Running lightly on his feet, making no sound, he made his way up the hill to the cliffside overlooking the sea.
He dashed behind a large tree near the crest, peeking around it at the Fae gathered there. Five of them. None of them had noticed his approach. They were laughing and gesticulating. Garthan moved silently to dart behind a tree that was positioned closer to the group of Fae. As he looked around the trunk to the group, he noticed what they were all standing around.
Jareth.
He was crumpled into a heap… wasn’t moving, didn’t even appear to be breathing. Garthan was close enough now to hear what the Fae were saying, listening to them congratulate themselves on killing the Goblin King, making plans to display his corpse at the gates of Ardalon. As he watched, one of them drew back his foot and let fly with a kick to Jareth’s limp form, catching him in the face.
The snarl of utter rage that ripped from Garthan’s throat was almost unholy. The Fae turned in shock to see him dashing toward them. The closest one’s head flew from his body with one swing of Garthan’s sword, then he held his hand out at the next, a levin bolt of pure green energy catching the Fae in the chest and blowing a fist-sized hole through his sternum. He whirled, slashing the third from nose to groin, then ducked as the fourth swung his sword at him. He turned that duck into a spinning kick, catching the Fae in the jaw and sending him to the ground. The fifth one… a young one from the looks of him, was frozen in terror, eyes wide…
And Garthan beheaded him on the spot, before turning and stabbing his sword downward with both hands, into the back of the Fae he had kicked, hearing the crunch of the bastard’s spine as the blade went through.
He looked around him for a moment, breathing heavily, his eyes wild. When no other Fae appeared, he pulled his sword out of the body it had been thrust in and turned to kneel next to Jareth.
His eyes were closed. He looked… at peace.
Garthan frantically checked for a pulse… for a breath… “No… Jareth… my brother… no…” Garthan almost whimpered. The agony in his soul was burning, raging. He sobbed brokenly for a few long moments, until the sounds of another squad of troops marching closer permeated his grief.
Garthan’s face grew resolute. They will not take my King. Not while I draw breath.
Frantically, he grasped at Jareth’s armor, his hands failing to find purchase. He grabbed one of Jareth’s arms and started to pull him up, thinking to wrap his arms around him and get them out of there. But Jareth was so heavy, and he was so drained…
Danu, please… please help me…
-*-
Jareth opened his eyes to a white light. It permeated everything, giving his surroundings an ethereal glow. He looked down at himself. Gone was the battered armor, the dirt, the blood. In its place was a shimmering white robe.
He looked around. He was lying on a dais, in the center of a structure that was ringed with columns. He couldn’t see beyond the columns to the outside… the light was simply too bright. He lay still, a curious numbness flowing through him. He sensed a presence beside him.
Turning slowly, he saw before him a woman… but not a woman. She was tall, taller than any Othánas. Her skin was oddly colored, almost as if it was changing hue before his eyes. Her hair was a shade of red he’d never seen before in nature. Her eyes…
Her eyes.
There was no iris, no pupil. Just an incandescent silver glow. Still, he knew those eyes could see him.
**Take my hand, Jareth Danaaru.** Jareth blinked, realizing that the woman was holding her right hand out to him. There was a… pleading… to the voice.
The urgency of her request seemed to penetrate the numbness he felt. He stretched out his left hand, just enough to place his fingers in the woman’s palm. Her hand closed over his, her lips curved into a smile. He felt the numbness abating, a comforting warmth starting to flow through him.
She pulled him to a sitting position. He looked about him again, but still, only the immediate area within the columned structure was visible. He looked back at the woman, into her eyes. They still glowed with that incandescent light; a light never seen in Jareth’s world.
That’s when he knew that he wasn’t in his world anymore.
“I’m… dead,” he said slowly, feeling nothing… except maybe a little bit of relief that it was all over. That maybe he could rest. But the woman shook her head, **No, Jareth. Not yet.** She sat down beside him, still holding his hand, **You were willing to give your all for your people. For My people. And now, you stand at a crossroads. You have earned the right to choose which path you wish to take.**
“Choose? Choose what?”
She smiled sadly, **Life. Or the Summer Lands.**
At that moment, Jareth knew exactly who this woman was. “Danu…” he whispered. Jareth released the woman’s hand and sank down to one knee beside the dais. She smiled, reaching down and placing her hands on his shoulders, **No, Jareth. Do not kneel to Me.** Her hands gently drew him back to sit beside her. **You may ask Me what you will. You must make your choice with full knowledge of what your choice will bring.**
Jareth thought on this, then met her gaze. “What would I go back to, if I choose to live?”
**Pain,** she replied. **Hurt and frustration. Wars and struggle. You will feel as if all you have is loneliness and duty.**
Jareth nodded. This didn’t surprise him. “And… if I choose the Summer Lands?”
**For you… there will be peace. You will see your parents again.**
Jareth sat for a very long moment. He heard what She did not say. He didn’t want to ask the question… but he had to.
“And… what of those I’d leave behind?”
Danu looked at him gravely. **They will come to me. Sooner. In greater numbers. They will try, try valiantly, but without your skill… without your power… they will struggle to maintain their freedom, surrounded by enemies.**
Jareth felt a wave of despair come over him. He was so tired… so tired of pain. So tired of enduring day by day. But…
There was no one else. No one to take up the mantle and do what only he was capable of.
Tears ran unheeded down his face. “I’ll go back. I have to go back. No matter how… tired…”
Danu put Her arm around him, pulling his head to Her chest and stroking his temple. Jareth yielded to Her greater strength, crumpling against Her, sobbing openly. **Not yet, Jareth. Time has stopped here. It will not start again until I will it so, and power over time is a gift I will give to you. You do not have to take up your tasks… your burden… until you are ready to.**
For the longest time, Jareth simply rested against Her. With every stroke of Her fingers, he felt his ragged emotions smoothing over… healing.
**Jareth, aroon… is it only duty that calls you back?**
Jareth frowned in thought, “No. It’s… not duty but… the people. My brothers.” He laughed for a moment, lifting his head and meeting Her gaze again. “I thought they were all worth dying for. Shouldn’t they be worth living for, too?”
Danu smiled at him, Her expression one of pride. **I think you’re ready now. But before you go back, know this… you won’t be alone. You have two brothers-in-spirit, who will always have your back. You will also find your Queen, who will be your rock and share your burden. I promise you these things.**
Gently, Danu put Her hands on his cheeks and kissed him on the forehead. He felt a tingling sensation start spreading into his mind. **You won’t remember these moments… at least not consciously. But your heart will. In the meantime, build a Haven for our people.**
Jareth smiled as the light grew too bright to see…then went black.
-*-
Jareth became aware that he was lying in about an inch of mud. He felt someone pulling his arm, trying to pick him up. Thinking it was a Fae, he opened his eyes, ready to fight with what little strength he had left.
It was Garthan.
That fool… that wonderful fool. He came back for him. Wouldn’t let him be taken by the bastards, not even as a corpse. He must have made a sound, because Garthan stopped his efforts and looked at him, tears running down his face. “Oh, thank Danu. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Jareth was able to get to his feet with Garthan’s help, and leaned heavily upon him, one arm around his shoulders. “I don’t think I have enough left to transport us…” A group of Fae appeared on the rise, running towards them, weapons leveled.
“I do,” said Garthan, as he pulled the Labyrinth block from his pocket. Jareth closed his eyes as swirls of green magic rose around them, transporting them back to the Labyrinth.
-*-
Randel stood before the mounted talisman, eyes scanning the crowd of Othánas before him. Most of them were still reeling in shock and milled about with an almost numb expression. It had been at least twenty minutes since Garthan had gone back. With every passing minute, his heart sank even lower.
The Ughlánas were crowded around too… they themselves were drained from all the frantic transporting they had done this day and were weeping at their own helplessness. Aside from perhaps Randel, not one living being here had the energy to transport back to the camp… the warriors were drained from the fighting, the younger ones drained from transporting under their own power. And Garthan hadn’t reappeared.
They’re gone, Randel’s heart cried. Gone.
The only family he’d ever had. His brothers. Closer than blood. And they were gone. Pain such as he’d never experienced before was running through every fiber of his being. With all his soul, he wanted to go back… go get them… but… someone had to lead. He couldn’t let Jareth down and just leave these people behind... no. He would follow his king’s last command, no matter how much it killed him inside.
The people looked at him with hollow eyes.
How do we go on? I don’t know how to be a King…
Before he could even think any farther, he heard a popping sound, and a cheer went up through the crowd.
Pushing his way through the throng of people towards the gate, he came upon Garthan, who was holding Jareth up by pure will. Instantly, Randel went to their side, taking Jareth’s other arm and draping it over his shoulder.
“By the Fates, Jareth… you look like shit.”
Jareth laughed. Garthan laughed. Randel laughed. Then the laughter turned to tears. Without even thinking about it, Randel extended his other arm towards Garthan, who was extending his to Randel. The three of them stood, arms around each other, their circle unbroken.
Unbroken.
Danu's Sanctuary
Notes:
It should be remembered that Jareth here is really still just a kid… the equivalent of about 15 or 16 years old. He had to grow up very quickly, and life (especially lately) has been one long, difficult slog after another. It’s understandable that he would break down a little at the thought of enduring more of the same… although he was still willing to do so for his people.
It should also be remembered that Garthan and Randel are the same age as Jareth, but do not have his level of power. They have barely learned to transport themselves, let alone transport with someone else. Their power level as adults is quite a bit greater than what they had available to them at this point in the story.
We have also learned that while the Ughlánas can transport themselves pretty much at will, they were doing way more than that on this day. They were transporting themselves and all of the equipment, the livestock, then the children, then the women… at this point, all of that transporting had drained them to the dregs, so that they couldn’t go back for Jareth like they all wanted to.
You might have noticed that Garthan should not have had the energy to transport himself and Jareth to the Labyrinth when he went back to get him. You’d be right. But he appealed directly to Danu for help. Upon hearing his plea, She gave him just enough energy to get them both out of there. This is how Danu operates… she gives subtle little nudges here and there where it can make the most difference.
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Portrait of Vesryn and Helayne
Three Months Later…
Jareth awoke to the lovely sounds of birdsong, and as his eyes fluttered open, he could tell that it was just after dawn. Judging from the light streaming in from the opening of his tent, it looked like it was going to be another fine summer day.
Taking a slow breath, he rolled to his side. His eyes fell on the crystal portrait of his parents, set on the small folding table next to his cot. It was taken before he had been born, when his parents were still in Ardalon. Vesryn was looking away and slightly downward, while Helayne, sitting behind him, looked serenely back out at Jareth, her hand affectionately on Vesryn’s waist. Every morning, he looked at this picture, marveling to himself that he even had it, that some kind soul had taken the time to empty out his tent back at the Pritaní camp and thus brought the only link he had left of his parents… of that life.
Three months it had been since that frantic evacuation. Three months it had taken for him to recover the better part of his strength after draining himself to a hair away from death. His recovery was actually quite swift, all things considered, and he suspected that the Labyrinth had something to do with it, since Healing magic couldn’t fix a power drain.
He rose from his cot, stretching his muscles and rolling his neck. Another busy day ahead of him, no doubt. He chuckled to himself, thinking about the digging, chopping and manual labor he had done back in Pritaní. That hadn’t changed since coming here, although he was somewhat limited in what he could do, at least until he’d recovered. The difference was all in the attitude. Before, he had done the work with a sense of desperation, and now… it was done with a sense of optimism and freedom. From what he could tell, the other Goblins felt the same way, and went about their tasks happily.
While Jareth had regained much of his physical strength back, his magical power was still at about half its usual level. It was recharging, to be sure, but he tried not to use magic unless absolutely necessary in order to hasten his recovery. His conscience struck him at that moment, that he had thus far been unable to keep his part of the bargain with the Labyrinth.
**I have been here for a long time, aroon. A few more months will make no difference. Far better that you be rested and healed before we undertake our mutual task. In the meantime, you must see to your people.**
It still startled him sometimes, that the Labyrinth could communicate with him so directly. In the last three months, they had discussed how they would go about bringing the wished-aways down Below. Jareth felt that there should be clear rules, and limits to how many could come Underground at any one time, as well as erasing the memories of those children Above, thus avoiding some of the issues that had driven the races Below in the first place. He knew his own limitations, and that his heart would drive him to want to rescue every poor soul he came across. The Labyrinth agreed with this, and specified that only children formally wished-away, as per the rules they developed, would be brought Below and subject to the transformation. Further, if a child was wished away, then the wisher had the option of running the Labyrinth to win the child back. Jareth suggested a time limit of thirteen hours, to which the Labyrinth agreed. They spent some amusing hours in the night, thinking up tricks and traps for those that dared to make a Run. Jareth had even enlisted the Ughlánas to help, and after describing the rules to them, they agreed wholeheartedly. They looked on this as a fun little game, and he had to develop a rotation schedule so they each could have a chance to go Above.
Pouring some water into a basin, he gave himself a quick wash, with the thought that he’d take a more thorough bath in the river later in the day when it grew warmer. He pulled on some clothes and his boots and went outside. He could already see people moving around their camp, some whistling, some outright singing as they went about their morning. He walked over to the command tent, where Randel was giving orders to the early patrol, who then shimmered into their owl forms and flew off. Garthan came inside carrying a steaming teapot and some cups. After pouring himself some of the tea, he sat back and sipped it with relish.
“So far, all of the patrols have reported no Fae for at least five hundred miles,” said Garthan. “Also, my Ughlánas friends have reported mass confusion amongst them as to where we went. From what they’ve been able to overhear, the Fae have been tearing Pritaní apart, looking for us. They have no idea that we crossed the sea, much less that we’re all the way out here.”
“Even if they do figure out that we’ve crossed the sea, they’d still have to cross a hell of a lot of hostile territory before they even come within range of our patrols,” said Randel. “The only reason we survived it during our trek was because the Ughlánas could transport us out of danger. They’ve got Dwarves, Elves and Goddess knows what else between us and them.”
Jareth smiled, “Still… we have to assume that they’ll find us eventually. It only takes one of them to alert Ardalon to where we went. By the time that happens, they’ll have to put together a force large enough to get across this continent, as well as figure out how to supply it. We will have come to learn this territory, while to them it is unfamiliar. And while I hope that such an undertaking will be seen as just too difficult for them to pursue, I cannot count on that.”
Randel nodded in agreement, “That’s why we’ve started some preliminary plans for the castle. I know you’re working with the Labyrinth to expand the walls around the area of the city, but we’re going to want a fortress to fall back to, just in case.” He spread out some plans on the tactical table, showing the tentative layout of the chambers and facilities. “The main thing is that we want to make use of the hot springs beneath us. We know the Fae did something similar, but they used a lot of magic to do it. We just have to figure out a way to do it with what we have at hand.”
Garthan looked at the plans, intrigued. “You’re thinking pipes, maybe?”
“Yes,” said Jareth as he eyed the layout. “That should work nicely. But we need to use a material that will last a very long time… something we can repair easily as needed. Copper maybe? We know there’s some in the Southeast…”
Randel looked at him with a grin, “Funny you should mention that. Last night, a group of Dwarves appeared outside the Labyrinth gates. Said they were running from the Fae. Guess what their trade is.”
Jareth raised a brow, “Hmmm. Copper smithing?”
“And mining. And plumbing.” Randel’s expression went from amused to shadowed. “They were… pretty ragged. And hungry. I knew you wouldn’t mind, but I asked Kelvara if she could send over some rations for them. They… had young ones with them, and I…”
Jareth waved his hand, “Of course. I would have done the same. Besides… there may be an opportunity here. They could be of great help to us if we can convince them to stay.”
“Why would they do that?” asked Garthan. “Why not just go North to the Dwarven Kingdom?”
“Dwarves are… very insular. They are more likely to allow other races into their strongholds as opposed to Dwarves from Out-clan. I have a feeling that they would have gone North if there was a chance the Steelshanks would accept them. They might well have tried to establish a settlement of their own in this area, if we hadn’t gotten here first.” Jareth sighed, rising to his feet and rolling up the castle plans, “I need to talk to them. Can you point me in the right direction?”
Randel waved his hand over to the right side of the command tent, “They’re over on the South side of the Labyrinth. I told them they could set up their tents and rest until they were ready to continue their journey.”
Jareth nodded at him, walking off in the direction Randel had indicated. As he passed by, several citizens called out to him with smiles. He returned their smiles, happy to see them in such an upbeat mood. He came upon the group of Dwarven tents, clustered near the South wall of the Labyrinth. A couple of Dwarven children, a boy and a girl, were playing in front of one of the tents. The boy looked over at him, eyes widened. Then he turned and ran into the tent. A moment later, a Dwarven man came out and looked up at him warily.
“You be the King around here?” the Dwarf asked without preamble. Jareth was a bit surprised; he was dressed the same as all the other Othánas working around the city site and didn’t look any different than the next man.
“I am. My name is Jareth.” He noticed the Dwarven boy come out and sit with the girl… his sister most likely. The boy’s face was fearful as he looked over at the adult… his father perhaps… and murmured, “He’s a magicker…”
“I knows, Hoggle. It be floatin’ all around ‘im,” said the Dwarf mildly, never taking his eyes off Jareth. “We be here wit’ permission… dat dark haired one… dat soldier… he said we could rest here.”
“Indeed. And I wanted to make sure you had all that you needed. He told me that you had children with you, so I…”
“Ya, dere be kids here wit us,” the Dwarf said, quietly. “Dey… be hungry. Been hard on ‘em since we ran. Hoggle here’s been sick… one o’ yer women came and Healed ‘im. I… we be grateful.”
“Well, I just wanted you to know that you are welcome to stay as long as you need to,” said Jareth. “It wasn’t that long ago that we were the ones running.”
“Ya, dat’s what dat soldier said. But…” the Dwarf hesitated a moment, then plunged on. “We don’t wanna just take yer stuff… we wanna work. Don’t wanna be owing anything to anyone.”
Jareth nodded in understanding. “I see. Well, I won’t lie to you… you can see that there’s much work to be done. Anywhere you can help… would be appreciated.”
The Dwarf glanced down at the rolled-up plans in his hand. “Dat be fer yous castle, right?”
“Yes. We’re laying out the foundations, trying to plot out the basics… privies, kitchens, baths…”
“Ya know yous be on a fracture zone? Der be hot springs under us.”
“Yes… in fact, that’s what we are working on. How to utilize the hot springs, for heating the castle, running water, that sort of thing. We’re trying to duplicate what the Fae did for the Winter Palace, just not using magic.”
The Dwarf’s gaze narrowed knowingly, “Ye’d need pipes for dat. Need to drill down, bring the water up. Need drains too. And waste… ye need to set up a way o’ dealin’ wit it.”
“Precisely. I… don’t suppose you might know someone who has that sort of knowledge?” Jareth asked with a smile.
The Dwarf returned his smile with one of his own. “Oh ya… ye be lookin’ at him. How ‘bout we take a look at dese plans, eh?”
-*-
Jareth at Caladh Castle
One Year Later…
Jareth looked at the construction site with pride in his heart. The castle was coming along nicely, the foundations excavated and reinforced with masonry, the copper piping for the hot water already drilled down to the hot springs below and capped off for the time being. He was delighted to find that the water itself was free of the sulfides and minerals that most hot springs had… this water was drinkable, once cool. Upon discovering that, the Dwarves were able to re-route some of the plumbing to bring another pipe into what would become the kitchens, a dedicated source of boiling hot water for cooking. That would save on fuel…
The Dwarven leader, Lochdan by name, proved to be a skilled engineer when it came to plumbing the castle. He designed a system of valves where the water would circulate through the walls during the winter but be turned off when the weather became warmer. Further, he was able to ensure that repairs to the system could be made with a minimum of fuss, simply shutting down the flow to the affected area and replacing a pipe was relatively easy. This meant that hot water would be available to the kitchens, the bathing rooms and the laundry, all without burning fuel and all without using magic. He also designed a system to bring cold water in from the river, where it could mix with the hot spring water where needed or be used for fountains and irrigating the grounds. It was such a relatively simple system that all buildings constructed in the city would have a similar setup.
The Dwarves also designed a waste management system that carried the sewage to a huge underground leach field, which filtered it before it was absorbed into the earth below. Jareth didn’t really understand how it worked, but Dwarves had been designing similar systems for their underground cities, so Jareth was content to leave it to them. His only request was that the system be built to accommodate a much larger population than they currently had, so they would not have to modify it as the city grew.
Jareth had extended an invitation to Lochdan and his people to stay in Caladh as citizens alongside the Othánas and Ughlánas. After a quick discussion with the other Dwarves, they agreed with alacrity. They chose an area in the Northeast of the city to claim as their district and were happily constructing their homes and shops in between mining and smithing the ore that the city needed.
Now that his powers were back at full strength, he was able to assist in the construction of the castle, using his magic. He started with using a short-duration levitation enchantment on the sleds which the workers used to haul the massive stones from the quarry. These sleds made the blocks weightless, enabling a single Othánas to drag a stone that weighed tons. This sped up construction considerably, especially since men and women, young and old, Othánas and Ughlánas, all clamored to be part of the building process. The enchantments lasted all day and only had to be refreshed in the morning before the workday started.
At the suggestion of the Labyrinth, he had transported himself, Tre Deganna and an Elf named Pilario to the Above, to a site the humans called Caernarfon, so they could take inspiration from what the humans had built and incorporate it into their own design. Pilario was one of that small group of Elves who had been rescued by Jareth, Garthan and Randel during one of their missions years before. They were given shelter by the Othánas and had been transported to the Labyrinth along with the rest of the population.
Pilario had once been an assistant to a Fae architect, and thus had a great deal of knowledge on how to construct a complex that would serve as the royal residence and seat of government, while Tre had a knack for draftsmanship and an eye for defense, seeking to make the castle impregnable. Pilario was able to incorporate that along with his own predilection for beauty, and when Jareth had seen their sketches of what Caisleán Caladh would eventually look like, he was astonished.
Inside the castle would be many of the creature comforts that the Fae enjoyed in Ardalon. With Jareth’s magical help, they were able to create glass for the windows that was thick, but completely clear and resistant to breakage. This meant that there could be large windows to let in natural light and make the interior bright and cheerful. Pilario also designed the grounds of the castle to have some gardens about it, many with fruit-bearing trees, cooking and medicinal herbs as well as plants and shrubs that simply pleased the eyes. Lochdan’s son Hoggle had a gift for working with the plants, and soon was hard at work trimming, transplanting, and weeding.
The only part of the castle design that Pilario seemed a bit surprised at was Jareth’s insistence that the Ughlánas have a section within it as their own. They would have their own dining hall, sleeping quarters, educational and recreational rooms and a central throne room where they could air any requests or concerns to Jareth personally. This, along with the formal throne room, ballroom, dining hall and various administrative offices and barracks would make up the castle proper, with the residential wing and a visitors wing. There would also be an educational suite for the children of the castle, as well as a library, which Jareth hoped to fill with books from Above and Below.
As he walked the perimeter of the construction site, he saw a group of Ughlánas moving out towards the grain fields, various farm implements on their shoulders, all of them whistling a jaunty tune. It had been late Spring when the Goblins had first transported here, and almost as soon as the Ughlánas arrived, they got to work plowing and harrowing, then planting. They were able to create an irrigation system using a water wheel, which brought water from the river to the fields. They had vegetable gardens already plotted and planted, and for the past year, the population had been enjoying the produce from those gardens. They’d asked for his assistance about a month ago to transport a clutch of fruit trees to an area they’d designated as an orchard, the peaches, plums and berry bushes yielding a phenomenal crop of fruits that were now being preserved by the Goblins in various forms. In the fall, there would be apples and pears, and Jareth was looking forward to drinking the cider that the Ughlánas brewed in the wintertime.
One odd thing they discovered was a stretch of swamp to the West that was so odiferous that the eyes watered when someone stood in its proximity. When he’d looked at it, he was at a loss on what he was going to do to get rid of it, as he’d planned to expand the Labyrinth through that area. The Labyrinth itself came up with the solution… it would simply incorporate the swamp into its defenses. As nauseating as the stench was, it was isolated to the immediate area of the swamp, so Jareth was content to simply let it be and leave it to the Labyrinth to deal with.
Now that he had recovered from the power drain he’d suffered transporting the population, he was able to turn his attention to the bargain he’d made. He spent a few days working out the details of the ‘fairy tale’ that they would use to spread the legend of the Goblin Kingdom and the Labyrinth among the humans Above. As most of the people there couldn’t read, he spent some time traveling here and there, disguised as a troubadour, singing songs of the Labyrinth and telling tales to the children. In addition, he distributed small charms to the caretakers of targeted children, this being a failsafe against people making the wish on a whim without having been chosen by the Labyrinth. Just last week, they’d gotten their first wished-away, a charming little girl whose parents had died and whose caregiver resented her. She was now transformed into an Othánas and adopted into a willing and eager family. Jareth checked in on her now and then, and from what he could see, the child was thriving and the adoptive family was very happy to have her.
That was another thing that had changed. People were life-bonding again, their more optimistic existence inspiring the couples to take that last step on the road to parenthood. They’d just welcomed four new babies last month, and many of the newly bonded women were already pregnant. The disparity of male and female was still there, and still acute, but just the fact that so many children were in the process of being born was enough to give everyone a boost in morale. They took it as a sign that Danu was willing to send them children again, now that they had found a safe place for them, and if there was a shortage of potential mates at the moment, this would change with time and patience.
That new optimism had also manifested itself in another way. Although the Othánas and Ughlánas had proclaimed him King years ago, the general feeling was that they needed to have a formal coronation, some sort of ceremony to acknowledge Jareth as their true King. Personally, he thought it rather redundant, but for whatever reason, the people really wanted to do this. Perhaps it was seen as a step towards giving their Kingdom legitimacy. Perhaps it was just a way to start establishing their own traditions. So few of their elders had survived that the people really didn’t know what direction their traditions and culture should go. Jareth was inclined to let people do as they will, so long as it didn’t infringe on the rights of another, and for the most part, the people seemed to adopt his attitude. Still, they felt the need to start establishing some sort of society, rules and all, so that they might finally feel as if they were a cultural entity in and of themselves.
Jareth’s work on the Labyrinth itself was expanding. Every day, Jareth added some of his power to the land, linking it to the Labyrinth in such a way that the maze could use the power to materialize the walls and passages that would connect to the original structure. It was about halfway done at this point, and once the ring of walls was complete around the city, Jareth would then weave the magic required to keep all parts of the Labyrinth as a singular, controllable construction, using the power of the land around it. This would ensure that even if Jareth died, the Labyrinth would not lose the magical power it needed to protect the city.
Every day, more and more creatures appeared at the gates, asking for protection. Some, Jareth had never seen nor heard of before, some he had only read about. The brutality of the Fae hadn’t been confined to just the Goblins, and a ragtag assortment of Elves, Dwarves and other fantastical beings would come upon their settlement and request asylum. This, Jareth granted, the Labyrinth already having alerted him to their need. The population of Caladh had already doubled, and this was met with a measure of concern by Garthan and Randel, who were becoming a little uneasy at the number of sentient creatures that were joining them.
One day, a rather large contingent of beings appeared at the gate, led by a small fox-like creature, and containing a wide variety of different sentient species. Garthan and Randel had taken the issue to Jareth, their worry being that sheltering so many might put a strain on their resources.
“For a time, yes… we’ll have to watch our stores of food carefully, but Kelvara tells me that this harvest is looking to be a very good one, and she does not anticipate any shortages if we add a few extra mouths to feed.”
Garthan looked at him, puzzled. “Are you saying that we should take these creatures in? I mean, the Elves and Dwarves I understand… we need their skills. But… worms? Foxes?”
“Yes. They are to be citizens of this Kingdom, just as we or the Ughlánas are. Do not discount a creature just because they are small, Garthan. Look at the Ughlánas… could we have survived as a species without their aid?”
Garthan and Randel exchanged looks. “Yes… you’re right about that, but… we know the Ughlánas, they are our brethren. We don’t know much about these… beings. Why should we take responsibility for what happens to them?”
Jareth smiled, his eyes a little sad. “Maybe… if some nation had been willing to take us in… perhaps…” He shook his head as if to clear it. “At any rate, the Labyrinth has sheltered us when we needed it, despite knowing nothing about us. By all rights, it shouldn’t have cared what happened to us either. But it did. And it offered us a haven. I am resolved to do the same. Any creature that seeks asylum in good faith will be welcomed into our Kingdom as equal citizens. I can do no less.”
And so it was, for the following years, a motley assortment of various beings made their way in ones and twos to the outskirts of the Labyrinth, and as they stood in awe before the great iron gate, they were met by representatives of the King, who, true to his word, welcomed the lost, the unwanted, the weary, and the hunted. And as the Goblins’ reputation grew, the small settlements of Elves and Pixies that surrounded Caladh petitioned Jareth to join the Kingdom as well. In the fullness of time, the Kingdom of Tír Ceilte came to control an area even larger than Eire and eventually made contact with other small principalities and kingdoms that dotted the lands around them. Trade routes were established along with the beginning of diplomatic ties, and the Kingdom found itself gaining in riches as the years went by.
The castle was eventually completed, and it looked even more magnificent than the drawings had shown. The city had grown as well, the various districts constructed to reflect the tastes of the residents within. Frequently, the common folk would stop during their bustling about to look upon the castle with pride.
It would have been easy to take their good fortune for granted, and in some ways, perhaps they did. But once per year, on the anniversary of the Founding, Othánas and Ughlánas all over the Kingdom would sit down to a meal of a single bowl of unseasoned porridge, an apple, and a cup of water… to remember the fallen, and that once upon a time… this was all they had, and they should forever be grateful for the Haven they had found.
Jareth's Coronation
Notes:
You might have noticed that Garthan mentions ‘foxes’ as some of the sentient creatures seeking asylum. That would be Sir Didymus and his group, which might be the subject of a future side story. It was making the acquaintance of Sir Didymus that gave Jareth the idea that the Ughlánas might benefit from some sort of military training. As I mentioned in ‘Kingdom’, Sir Didymus is quite a savage fighter when he needs to be, and his ability to mold the Ughlánas into a cohesive force became invaluable to the Goblin Kingdom. He was also pivotal in convincing Sarah to reach out to Jareth and begin their friendship/courtship. It is just one of many instances where Jareth’s insistence on accepting strangers as equal citizens paid off handsomely.
His embracing the refugees as equal citizens has everything to do with that conversation he’d had with his mother as a child. Helayne had told him to always look upon others’ misfortune with an eye toward what he would wish for if he was in the same situation. He never forgot that lesson. The Labyrinth asked that he shelter them, yes… but he took it a step further and wanted them to be just as much a part of the Kingdom as the Othánas and Ughlánas were.
Hoggle came to the Goblin Kingdom as part of his family’s refugee group (as detailed in this chapter). His fear of magic was well established, even as a child, and had a lot to do with his wariness of the Othánas in general and Jareth in particular.
Also, a quick note… magic floats all around Jareth, visible to those who look on him, but he himself can’t see it. This started to become apparent as he moved farther along towards adulthood (and accounts for Sarah’s description of him in ‘Kingdom’ with the shimmer of power that was all around him). That’s why he was surprised that Lochdan knew he was the King right off the bat.
I also liked the Goblins’ version of “Thanksgiving”. Like many Americans, that particular holiday (for me) is more of a fabulous feast that ends in a turkey-induced coma. I thought the Goblins should take a day out of their much more safe and comfortable existence and remember the time when they had literally nothing, and reflect on that as well as the sacrifices made to bring them to their currently prosperous lives. When Sarah marries Jareth, she brings her holiday traditions, including Thanksgiving, which is celebrated as a harvest feast Underground and is distinctly separate from this remembrance day.
Chapter 13
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Caisleán Caladh
Caisleán Caladh - Eleven Years Before Sarah’s Run…
Jareth padded silently out of the bathing chamber, toweling off his dampened hair. The one luxury he went out of his way to create for himself in the castle… that immense bathing pool in his chambers… and he availed himself of it every night that he had a spare hour. It had been centuries since he’d slept in dirt and bathed in frigid streams, but he still remembered it vividly.
As he walked into his bedchamber, he sighed in contentment. It wasn’t magnificent on the scale of Ardalon, but Caisleán Caladh was far and away the most wonderful place in which he’d ever planted his feet. The warmth of the walls, the cheerful, cozy décor… the happiness of the residents… all of it contributed to the sense of accomplishment that he allowed himself to indulge in now and again. His gaze fell on the crystal portrait of his parents, as it did at least once per day. While he couldn’t be sure, he felt in his heart that they could see what he’d done… what they all had done… and they approved.
There was a dinner tray on the table, as he’d requested. Tonight, he’d felt the need for quiet contemplation, a mood that would strike him every now and then, and when it did, he would spend the hours before he retired to bed in deep thought. It was at these times that inspiration would usually flow through him; some of his best innovations came from evenings like this. To be sure, most of his ideas were imported from things he’d seen Above, and it seemed like every trip opened up new avenues of human ingenuity that he could explore and perhaps imitate down Below.
For some reason, tonight didn’t bring innovative thoughts, but old memories. Memories of those dreadful years after his parents died… the desperation, the hunger, the fear. Nights of never being warm… never having eaten enough… exhaustion that made it a chore just to breathe…
Yes, it had been centuries since he’d endured it, but sometimes… it would come back. He’d wake in the middle of the night, straining his ears for the sounds of a Fae warband, shivering with a cold that he no longer felt… and it would take a few moments before he realized that he was in his own chamber, in his own castle, in his own Kingdom. This happened more often during the first century or two after they’d founded Caladh, and while the incidents lessened in frequency over the years, every so often it would happen again, taking him by surprise and leaving him shaking in the early hours.
Finishing his repast, he decided to do his contemplating while lounging in his bed. The softness of the mattress, the pillows, and blankets… all went a long way towards reassuring himself that those terrible years were over, and a new destiny awaited him. Awaited all of the Goblins.
He lay on his back, every muscle in his body loosening bit by bit. Again, he sighed… but this time, the sigh had a note of disquiet. It didn’t take much thought to realize what it was that weighed on him.
He was alone.
He took lovers occasionally, mostly when the loneliness in the middle of the night became overwhelming. And while temporarily diverting, they simply couldn’t fill the void he had within his heart. He felt like a jeweled swiftlet, having built a lovely nest for his mate… and no mate to be found.
This was a given in the first century or so after the founding of Caladh. While the wished-aways provided some female children for the Goblin Kingdom, as did the increased ratio of females born to Othánas women, it had only been the last century or so that the population had recovered somewhat. Girls upon reaching their majority still had a plethora of males competing for their attention, and most bonded quickly, but so far… not a one had inspired the least bit of interest on his part, beyond a night or two’s distraction.
Admittedly… he hadn’t given much thought to the whole idea of finding a wife until the last hundred years or so. There simply hadn’t been time… between building the castle, expanding the Labyrinth, the wished-aways, the Fae finding them (and the subsequent wars which were hard fought and eventually won), he couldn’t imagine where he’d find the time to win a lady’s heart. And while being King might have been an initial attractant to the maidens of the Kingdom, the reality of his position meant that any woman he took as his Queen would have a crushing number of duties right alongside him. This was enough to give any woman’s heart pause. Indeed, Lily had once told him jokingly that even if she hadn’t met Garthan, she would not have chosen Jareth in any case… as she did not want what the crown would demand of her.
And as the years went on… his loneliness grew. It was magnified by his proximity to Garthan and Lily who, even after a century of marriage, were still wildly in love. He didn’t begrudge Garthan his good fortune, not for a moment, but he couldn’t help the pang of envy he suffered at times. Especially since Lily had given birth to their son. Little Anduin was absolutely adorable, and Jareth found it almost impossible to keep the wistful look off his face whenever he saw the boy.
He wanted an heir, yes… he found that his desire to have children of his own was getting stronger with every year that went by. More than that, though… he wished that he had someone to love. Someone who would love him back. Sometimes he would lay in his cold bed, alone, thinking to himself that he would give anything… anything within his power, just to have someone to hold in the night, to wake to in the morning… every morning. Forever.
It would all have been enough to send him into a spiral of despair, but somehow, deep down, he knew that his Queen was out there… somewhere. And someday, probably when he least expected it, he would find her.
He felt the tingle in the center of his mind… and sighed again. The Labyrinth had found a potential wisher. It had taken a bit of time to hammer out what the rules for wishing away children were going to be, and then he’d had to create the fairy tale that would be distributed Above to potential wishers. After so many centuries, he and the Labyrinth now operated like a well-oiled machine.
Rising from his bed, he went out to the balcony, changing into his owl form and transporting himself Above. For a moment, he was disoriented… it was mid-day here, and he’d just come from the dim candlelight of his chambers. He soon got his bearings; he was in the Northeastern United States… fascinating place… and he winged his way through the air, letting the Labyrinth guide him to his target. He came upon a park, one with large grassy areas and shady trees, and felt the pull to an area where there was a small pond. He glided over to a large tree beside the pond, landing delicately on one of the branches.
As he looked around, he saw several children and their caregivers. Many were playing with balls, some were throwing a plate-shaped toy that drifted on the air, some had dogs with them. His attention was drawn to a woman sitting on a bench, a food storage box beside her.
She was pretty, with long dark hair and green eyes, but she had a petulance to her face, a sly malice in her manner that put him off immediately. She sat on the bench looking utterly bored, a frown of dissatisfaction pulling her mouth downward. As he watched, a little girl ran up to her.
“Mommy… look! See what I found? I think it’s a fairy!”
The girl was adorable. She had the dark hair and green eyes of the woman on the bench, but the child had a sunny personality and a joy to her spirit that the woman didn’t have. She held the brilliantly colored butterfly in her hands with the utmost gentleness, her delighted smile shining brighter than the sunlight that poured down around her.
“Oh, Sarah… that’s just a butterfly. You’d better put it back.”
Jareth could see the hurt and disappointment the woman’s words caused the girl. Her head bowed, she dutifully turned back to some of the flowering bushes beside the lake, gently coaxing the butterfly to alight on one of the blooms. She whispered to the lovely little insect, talking to it as if it were indeed a fairy. Smiling to himself, Jareth was charmed.
At that moment, a little boy, perhaps a year or two older than the girl, started to run by her, a stick in his hands. He was chasing a pair of geese that had no doubt been trying to defend their nest. The girl turned to watch while the boy swung his stick, the geese hissing in anger. Before Jareth could even contemplate an action, the girl had decided to intervene.
A frown of determination and anger on her face, she ran over to the boy, ripping the stick out of his hands. He looked at her in shock, shouting a demand that she return the stick.
She returned it, all right.
Her green eyes blazing, she started beating the boy about the head and shoulders with the stick. It wasn’t very thick, the boy would only suffer a well-deserved welt or two, but the ferocity with which she beat him back, away from the geese, was an awe-inspiring sight. The boy apparently felt the same, as he’d turned and run away from the girl as fast as his legs would carry him.
Her chest heaving, she glared at the boy’s back for a few moments, then dropped the stick as she turned to face the geese. Curtsying to the animals, her sweet little voice drifted over to him.
“At your service, Sir Goose. My Lady.”
The birds wasted no time heading back to wherever their nest was. As Jareth chuckled to himself, he glanced back at the girl’s mother. She was reading something… a stack of papers bound with little brass clips. She hadn’t seen the incident. As he gazed at her, he felt the tingle in his mind… no doubt, this woman was a potential wisher. He looked back over at the girl, who was now humming a tune and dancing in a circle.
“Sarah, it’s time to go,” came the grating voice from the bench.
“Oh, but Mommy… can’t we stay a little longer? It’s so pretty here!”
“Now, Sarah Williams. Right now.” Came the derisive answer. The woman rose from the bench, intent on dragging the child away. Jareth took this opportunity to conjure a book on top of the food container. The woman would think she’d brought it herself. He looked back over at the child.
With courage like that, she’ll be a good addition to the Goblin Kingdom, he mused. Reaching out with his magic, he traced a rune on the child’s forehead. This one would be designated for the Goblin Kingdom, most definitely. The Ughlánas he would assign to watch over her were certain to adore her.
His mission completed, he launched himself into the air, intent on returning to his chamber and getting some much-needed sleep. For some reason, his heart felt… lighter. He couldn’t shake this odd feeling of happiness and optimism that had come over him when he’d marked the girl.
And he could have sworn that in the back of his mind, he’d heard the Labyrinth laughing.
-*-
The Labyrinth watched as Jareth conjured a red book on top of the container of food the mother had brought to the park. It picked up on the King’s inner thoughts as he did so.
“With courage like that, she’ll be a good addition to the Goblin Kingdom,” he mused.
Silently, the Labyrinth chuckled to itself. Speaking on a lower level than usual, one that Jareth couldn’t hear… not yet… but someday would, the Labyrinth imparted its wisdom directly into his heart, to be called forth when the time was right.
**Indeed, she will. She has the grit and the determination to triumph over all adversity. She has strength to lend to you when you falter and to keep you on the proper path. The fortitude to share your burden. A loving heart to ease your troubles, and a kind soul to be a balm to yours.
I have looked into the future, Goblin King. All of your decisions will eventually lead to her. All of hers will lead to you. It will not be easy. You will suffer much pain and at times, despair. But in the end, in her hands, your heart will be safe. And through her, your line will live forever.
Jareth, aroon… you have just met your Queen.**
-*-
Sarah Williams, Future Queen of the Goblins
Notes:
You might have noticed that the details of Vesryn and Helayne’s death as well as Jareth’s transporting of the population to the Labyrinth was a bit different from the tale Lily had told Sarah. One reason is that the history books didn’t get into such grim detail (although some of the more lengthy treatises did).
Sharp-eyed readers might have noticed a reference to Lily’s father, Tre (short for Tremane) Deganna as being one of the architects of the castle. He also accompanied Randel on his journey (he was the ginger-haired Othánas I mentioned, and we’ll see more of him in a future side story). Indeed, when Randel danced with Lily back in ‘Spring Flowers’, he was catching up with her on how his old comrade was doing. During their journey, Randel told Tre what had happened to Jareth’s parents (as well as his own), but he didn’t actually see it happen… he saw the aftermath. Some of the details were incorrect when relayed to Lily’s dad, who then relayed those details to her.
It was also the common belief that Jareth had transported the entire population, when in reality it was only the older warriors… the Ughlánas had transported the bulk of the Goblin people (the young warriors transported themselves). I wanted to demonstrate how a tale can change over the centuries as it gets passed down, sometimes contributing to the ‘mythos’ of a particular person.
If anyone remembers the original creation myth I wrote back in ‘Kingdom’, Danu took the strongest, largest and most intelligent Goblin to mold into the first Othánas. What I didn’t mention was that the name of that Goblin was Danaar. Yes… he was the direct ancestor of Jareth Danaaru, King of the Goblins. I’m sure you guys already picked up on that, but I thought I would confirm it (Jareth didn’t mention that in his letter to Sarah because he thought it would sound pompous).
But… the question could be… was Danaar really ‘transformed’ by Danu, or was he just the first named Othánas historical figure (like Gilgamesh, King Arthur or Beowulf as an example) who took on a mythological aspect after thousands of years?
Whatever the case, it is why Konrad, Vesryn and later Jareth were considered to be the natural leaders of the Goblins and why Vesryn and Jareth were each in turn proclaimed their King.
What is the Labyrinth? It is an Avatar of Danu. She had always intended the land around the Labyrinth to be the homeland of the Goblins and built the Labyrinth in anticipation of their arrival. The sentient consciousness in the Labyrinth is a servant of Hers.
It must be pointed out that while the ‘gods’ in my story do at times meddle in the affairs of their creations, free will does exist. Jareth wasn’t ‘fated’ to marry Sarah, at least not by the decree of any outside power. But all decisions he could make, all paths he could take… they all naturally led to Sarah as his Queen. The same went for Sarah. All of her choices, no matter what they were, would eventually lead to Jareth on their own. Danu didn’t mandate that… it was their own wills that made their pairing inevitable. The Labyrinth simply looked to the future and saw the end result.
Vesryn’s vision was given to him by Danu and consisted of the most likely outcomes of the situation as it stood. Could there have been different choices made? Yes, but it was highly unlikely. Jareth’s choice to come back (as an example), while HIS choice, was predictable. He would never abandon his brothers or his people, no matter what it cost him (you could say that Danu was trying to restore some of Jareth’s morale by letting him make the choice, even though She already knew what his answer would be). Garthan going back for him, while HIS choice, was predictable. He would never leave his King behind, ever. Randel could have made the choice to go back as well, but his determination to follow his King’s command (and that the people would need him if Jareth and Garthan didn’t return) made his choice predictable, too. There were millions of little choices that led to the events of ‘Kingdom of Dreams’ which, while not set in stone, were so predictable that the outcome was pretty clear. This is what Danu shared and what the Labyrinth saw.
This is one of the few side stories that has direct interaction with Danu as a character. Religion to the Othánas is a very personal thing… to believe or not is up to the individual and they don’t have temples or formal religious structures or tenets. There are no priests, if you want to talk to Her, you did so. She might even answer.
I didn’t make Pixar versions of this story. It was far too grim to do something so… cute. I’ll probably generate animated versions of Vesryn, Helayne and the younger versions of the Boys and add them to the appendix of another story later on.
After the emotional rollercoaster of this story, we need something a little different. Next up… a fun little monster-in-the-woods tale.
Red Wolf (FairbairnSykes) on Chapter 1 Thu 08 Aug 2024 12:21PM UTC
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