Enter the Labyrinth {Tag: Meds}

[Seren Ash]

Likely, Meddler and Dreamweaver will get a message from the Goblin that took her. The message will simply be this.

If freedom is what you seek, then take it.
Meddler you are released from any feelings you may have felt for me.
Dreamweaver, it is obvious you have won his heart.
I wish you both nothing but happiness, and you are always welcome in my home.
The children will know their fathers title at least, and will be told stories of him.
I don't expect you to ever see them, and that's fine. I'll care for them on my own.
The plans are held off indefinitely, I'm keeping myself away from the Mortal and Guardian world alike.
Unless you ask the Goblin, you shall not find me.
Though I doubt you'd care to look.

This dream has died, it's weaving unwove.
The Kingdom shall not rise.
The Queen has Died. ))


The Specialist was bitter, and in pain. The Goblin had taken her to the city of the Goblins, and left her there. As she requested, she had sent a formal request to the King, to allow him to know that she was within the confines of his city. That she did wish to speak to him, but that she needed time. She had been given a room, and easy trade for telling a couple what their child would grow to be. Using her knowledge of time, she had caught a glimpse of that childs future.

Perhaps it was The Seer's abilities, aiding her mother. But The Specialist didn't know. The pain in her chest, was too great. She had gotten a nice room, and then She had stripped off all of her clothing. She had allowed herself to pull the old robe from her bag. From her hall days, the blood stains removed. She put that on, and laid on the bed, her hands covering her belly. How long did she have left, she knew that she had spent much time with Meddler and Dreamweaver, but how much time was left till delivery?

Children she would raise without a father, on her own. Without the man she loved, with a broken and shattered heart. It was always this way, and this time, the man had left not because of her child - but because of the plans she had made to make a new home for her people. Perhaps controlling nothing, would be better. Just getting a safe place for her people, on a small colony for now. With her Guards to protect them. There were surely children in the group fit for the guard.

Make a life for themselves on another planet, another society. With a hope for a future. Slowly build up. But she wondered if she could make a new access to the Schism, to help the future children reach their potential. Hopefully she could find that. She thought she had that, she thought she finally had a way to make a peaceful world, full of light and love. But all those pieces had shattered, like her heart.

And with those thoughts, the Specialist cried. Really cried, for the first time in a long time. Heart wrenching, tearing sobs, that left her hiccuping and in pain. Sobs that caused the children to kick, even as she sought to soothe them. For now, she'd be in this Goblin City.

[The Master]

Jareth, King of the Goblin Realm, Tsar of the Bog of Eternal Stench, Master of the Underground and Lord of the Labyrinth, brooded on his throne. Around him, the normally fractious goblins were silent. It was an ill mood that had taken their king, and he was both unpredictable and dangerous in such a mood.

He drummed the long, elegant fingers of his right hand on the arm of his throne. "I blame my Cousin Sisilaya for this," he observed to his Court.

One goblin, braver or more foolish than the others, spoke up. "My... my Lord? You blame the Priestess of the Hall of the Wind of Change? What do you mean?"

He smiled thinly. The goblin, to his credit, did not cower back immediately. "Centuries. I have lived centuries without the interference of the Lords of Time in my affairs. And now, in the span of a few short years, I have entertained two in my Court and offended a third by coming to the aid of my Royal Cousin. And it all began, when I granted her one of my oubliettes..."

The goblin considered his king's words. "Then, the Mother of Time is unwelcome in your Court?"

Jareth sighed. "I would not say that - the gratitude of such a one is beyond value. But her presence complicates matters. I have heard it said that the Dread Emperor clad in Sable and Jet seeks the Mother of Time and her Hall. And he is a being whose enmity I do not wish."

"Then cast her from your Court, dread King," the goblin advised. "If you do not wish to be dragged into the wars of the Lords that Lived, banish her."

The Goblin King fixed him with a hard stare, and the goblin blanched. And then Jareth laughed. "Well said, Phlaag! Well said, indeed!" He laughed for nearly a full minute, then stopped as suddenly as he had started. "And yet, the Mother of Time is a being whose enmity I do not wish either."

There was silence for the space of a dozen heartbeats. "Then..." began Phlaag, still feeling the shock of having been granted a name, "Then what will my Lord do?"

The Goblin King rose. "What do I always do, Phlaag? I will walk the Labyrinth, and seek a way through." He swept towards a stairway. "Attend me, Phlaag."

---

Jareth stood before the door to the suite he had granted to the Mother of Time - the woman that called herself the Specialist, a simple title for such a Being - and waited for the sounds of tears to die down. Phlaag stood beside him, bored.

"Pain, and loss, expressed in sound," the Goblin King observed to Phlaag. "The sound of joy stolen and love lost. Strange that such a Being may still feel such emotions."

"Joy stolen and love lost..?" the small goblin echoed, then flinched and lifted his hands beseechingly. "None have so much as touched her children, my Dread Lord! None have dared! It is not our fault!"

A small smile touched his lips. "I have not accused any of my own, Phlaag. I dare say the crime may be laid at the feet of Robin Goodfellow."

The goblin's eyes grew large. "Then the Puck is for the Oubliettes? Or for the Bog? Shall I command the goblins for you, my Dread Lord?"

"You would dare to cross the Lord Unborn?" Jareth smiled.

Phlaag shivered.

"Were the Mother of Time to ask such a boon, I could not refuse. And yet I hope she does not - I have no wish to involve myself directly in such matters."

The sounds of weeping had ended. He waited a minute more, then clapped at the door. "My Lady? I humbly ask an audience, should it please the Mother of Time."

---

A figure walked the lone road that traced an arcing path from the exit of the Labyrinth to the entrance to the Fortress of the Goblin King. He - for so the figure looked at a distance - was garbed in doublet and breeches of green with intricate blue curvilinear designs worked into them, and black knee boots and gauntlets of supple leather, and a wide-brimmed hat of green felt. A rapier and dagger hung from a belt at his waist. His eyes were green and shot with lightning streaks of gold, and his hair and van dyke beard were auburn.

He was alone, and on foot, and showed no signs of having been ill-used by the Labyrinth. For that alone, the goblins watching his approach grew concerned.

[Seren Ash]

Tracenista slowly felt the ache leave her chest, the tears dried up as she wiped at her face. The children calmed, as she swung her legs over to the edge of the bed. Mother of Time, she had heard the goblins that gave her these chambers, use that name. Now there was a voice at the door, it was a smooth one, a beautiful one. She had never heard a voice like it, sinking into her bones and causing the children to still. She could almost hear a giggle in her mind.

"You may enter." She said calmly as she put herself to rights. Though the crying had stopped, the faint remnants on cheeks and eyes still held it's presence. There was a rustle of sound at the window, as her head turned. There was simply a raven on the windowsill, a simple bird. With streaks of white in it's feathers, and eyes of obsidian and read. "Odd creature." She murmured as her attention turned towards the door. THe chambers she resided in where indeed not for one such as she.

They were a commoners chambers, but she didn't mind. She didn't need much at this point. Just a place to heal heart and soul. A place to birth her children, and decide their fates. She rose to stand, curtsying in her robes of the Halls. "I have heard many of your ilk, call me Mother of Time. I am simply just The Specialist." She said softly as she slowly straightened herself. Her back ached something fierce, not that she would acknowledge that pain.

"I may be of the Royal blood of Gallifrey, but as it has been proven... not many would harken to my call, to make a better world." She said with a wry smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, King of the Goblins." She said as she braced her hand on the bedpost, and was surprised at the sudden kicking the children started. Almost akin to dancing, and that awe showed on her face.

[The Master]

"You may enter."

Jareth opened the door, bowed gracefully and gave the raven a hard look. Then he looked around the single room, an faint expression of distaste on his features.

"I must beg your forgiveness, my Lady Mother of Time. I instructed my servants to establish you in chambers suitable to your station." He looked around. "Phlaag?"

"Yes, your Dread Highness?" the goblin squeeked.

"Have the goblins responsible reassigned to the Bog for a season. That will teach them... manners."

"Of course, your Dread Highness."

She rose to stand, curtsying in her robes of the Halls. "I have heard many of your ilk, call me Mother of Time. I am simply just The Specialist." She said softly as she slowly straightened herself.

He smiled. "There is nothing simple about one of the Lords - or, in your case, Ladies - that Lived. But if you will it so, then I shall address you by the title you request."

He glanced at the raven, scowled, then looked back at the Specialist. "But, if I may be so bold, what brings the M... the Specialist to the Halls of the Goblin King? It was my understanding that you traveled with Robin Goodfellow and Sisilaya, daughter of Éibhleann, in the safety of the Hall of the Wind of Change. And that you had summoned the Lords that Lived to attend to the restoration of the Shining World?"

"I may be of the Royal blood of Gallifrey, but as it has been proven... not many would harken to my call, to make a better world." She said with a wry smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, King of the Goblins." She said as she braced her hand on the bedpost, and awe showed on her face.

"My lady," he said, offering a solicitous hand. "I shall have more fit chambers arranged for you at once. Phlaag..?"

The goblin did not respond. Wrath flickered across the Goblin King's face as he turned to see that worthy speaking with another goblin. Phlaag bowed low as he faced Jareth. "forgive me, your Dread Majesty, but the wardens have brought word."

"What is it?"

"Your fosterling has come unannounced, and desires to speak with you."

Jareth's face changed from startled to smiling to laughing. "Does he, now?"

"That is what the wardens report."

"Then I suppose I must grant the request." He offered the Specialist his hand. "May I ask you to accompany me? I shall have the goblins see to your chambers while we are gone."

[The Meddler]

There was laughter in his eyes - if not on his lips - as the dozen goblins in tin and cast iron and leather pressed about him, threatening him with spears. It was rather like being menaced by fireplugs, really.

"Thtate your buithneth, intruder!" one of them lisped in a high, squeaky voice. "Who are you? And why have you dared the Labyrinth?"

"My business," he said, his voice resonant and musical, "is with His Highness the Goblin King." He paused for effect, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Not with his goblins individually. So go an announce me."

"Name!" shrieked another goblin, hopping from one foot to the other in frustration. "Name!"

"Well," the man said, still smiling. "We seem to be at an impasse."

"An impathe?" lisped the first goblin, angrily.

"Why, yes. I wish you to announce me to His Dread Majesty, and you insist on my name. I do not wish to give you my name, and so you will not let me continue on my way. Therefore, we are at an impasse."

"Oi thought an impasse was a little goblins butt, Oi did," whispered one goblin to another. The man in green and blue pretended not to hear him.

"It theemth that we are, indeed," said the first goblin.

"So, it seems to me that we should settle this like gentlemen."

"We aren't gentlemen. We are goblinth."

"But you bear arms in the service of your king?"

"Yethththt..?"

"Then you are gentlemen. Or, at the very least, gentlegoblins. For any servant trusted to bear arms as he serves his king is a gentleman."

The goblin paused, staring at him suspiciously. "All right. Then we tettle thith ath gentlemen. How do we do that?"

"why, with a friendly competition, and the loser must yield to the winner."

"That theemth reathonable. What competition?"


"Any number spring to mind. Recitation of poetry. Singing. Glamourcraft. Riddle games-"

"Riddle gameth?"

"An excellent choice!" the man in green and blue cried. "I accept your challenge!"

"I have not challenged you!"

"You would withdraw your challenge?" The man in green and blue sounded shocked. "I had thought you a gentleman!"

"But... but... I didn't..."

"You have my apologies for slighting you then, good sir, and I hope that we shall still be friends. And as you have done me the honor of challenging me, it falls to me to ask the first riddle."

The goblin scratched his head, unsure of how he had gotten to this point. "Very well, then. What ith it?"

"What is my name?"

The goblin gaped at him. "But! But! That ith... I mean... I don't know your name!"

"Then I fear you have lost, my good gentlegoblin. Now, if you will announce me to your Dread Lord, why, I shall esteem you among the greatest and truest of my friends!"

"Uhm..." Something had gone terribly wrong, here, but the goblin couldn't quire work it out. "What name thhall I give Lord Jareth?"

"Tell him that his fosterling has come to pay his respects, and would speak with him at his convenience."

"I thhall," the goblin said. He turned and trod up the road, muttering. "Rathafrackin name. Rathafrackin riddleth."

The man in green and blue produced a deck of cards from a pouch, and smiled at the other goblins. "Anyone up for a friendly game of poker, while we wait?"

[Seren Ash]

"My Lord, please! The couple put me in the best chambers they have. I do not want them or their child to suffer because they did not have better to offer." She said as she straightened her robes, and gladly put her hand within his own. A shiver racing through her as the sound of giggling filled her mind. "I prefer to show benevolence, to those that have done me kindness." She said softly with a rather cultured tone to her voice.

"If you must call me by a name that you can respect more then the Titles of my realm, then... You may - You may call me Serantinia." She said gently as the kicking continued in her womb. A shudder racing through her as she pressed her free hand on to the flesh of her belly. She tried to think of a good way to phrase why she was here. Her eyes closed tightly, as the tears threatened to fall.

"My Lord Jareth, I am here for safe haven. I seek a place to rest and birth my children. Away from the realm of Mortals and Guardians..." She said as she shivered from head to foot. "I have been abandoned by the ones I loved most, and because of that I do not wish to be around my own kind. I have always heard the Goblins speak about your gentle nature with children." She said as she stared at him. Her lips quirking in a faint smile.

"Mine are not to become Goblins, I am sorry. But I just seek a safe place for me and mine to be - till I reenter the other world." She said as she stepped after him, he mentioned meeting someone. "I have no qualms with accompanying you, on a meeting. Shall I stay as I am, or get into something more regal." She said as she heard the raven caw, and her head turned. Her eyes narrowing.

Something is not natural with that raven, mother. The voice whispered sweetly to her. A feminine voice. Unfortunately due to his contact with her, Jareth was likely to hear it as well. Soon we shall dance, quite happily. Mother. Pain is a fleeting emotion, the heart will heal.

"Ah... My apologies." She said to Jareth gently.

[The Master]

"My Lord, please! The couple put me in the best chambers they have. I do not want them or their child to suffer because they did not have better to offer." She said as she straightened her robes, and gladly put her hand within his own. "I prefer to show benevolence, to those that have done me kindness." She said softly with a rather cultured tone to her voice.

"As you wish, my Lady M... my Lady the Specialist," he said, bowing low and kissing her hand. "Your generosity knows no bounds."

"If you must call me by a name that you can respect more then the Titles of my realm, then... You may - You may call me Serantinia." Her eyes closed tightly, as the tears threatened to fall.

"I am honored, Lady Serantinia."

"My Lord Jareth, I am here for safe haven. I seek a place to rest and birth my children. Away from the realm of Mortals and Guardians..." She said as she shivered from head to foot. "I have been abandoned by the ones I loved most, and because of that I do not wish to be around my own kind. I have always heard the Goblins speak about your gentle nature with children." She said as she stared at him. Her lips quirking in a faint smile.

"Mine are not to become Goblins, I am sorry. But I just seek a safe place for me and mine to be - till I reenter the other world." She said as she stepped after him, he mentioned meeting someone.

"Abandonment, yes." His face was sour. "I fear I know something of that myself. But if you wish it, you may remain within my domains for as long as you desire."

"I have no qualms with accompanying you, on a meeting. Shall I stay as I am, or get into something more regal."

"I cannot imagine any way in which you might look more regal, Lady Serantinia. And it would please me greatly, were you to accompany me."

[The Meddler]

The man in green and blue was led into the throne room by a cluster of irritated goblins. The friendly game of poker had forcibly reminded them that no man who offers a friendly game of poker to while away the time is to be trusted. He had sold them back their weapons and armor at the price of oaths of favors to be rendered when called on.

Jareth reclined in his throne, one leg over the arm of the seat and his head on one hand, looking amused. He rose as the man bowed respectfully. "Midhir!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands on the man's shoulders. "Midhir of the Spring! And what, my son, brings you to the Courts of the Goblin King?" He smiled. "As if I did not know."

Midhir began to speak, but Jareth cut him off. "But first, allow me to present to you my guest: my Lady the Mother of Time, known to the Lords that Live as the Specialist."

Midhir bowed low before the woman in white, doffing his hat in a sweeping gesture. "It is both my great honor and great good fortune to meet you once more, my Lady."

Jareth's eyebrow rose. "Once more?"

"Aye, your Highness. For did she not recently - as such things are measured by the Lords of Time - grace my Hall in the company of my Lady m... my Lady the Dreamweaver and of Robin Goodfellow?"

He noted the Specialist's expression. "But hold! Those names are barbed darts, wounding your very heart, I fear." In a fluid motion he sank to one knee, unclipping his rapier from his belt and offering it to her. "If, by life or death I may serve thee and ease thy pain, command me and I shall obey!"

Behind him, Jareth rolled his eyes.

[Seren Ash]

The Specialist found a true smile, dancing across her lips. She kept her fingers locked within the Goblin Kings. The young females voice still echoing in her mind. Odd thing that, my daughter speaking to me from the womb. That is not common, but these children where not conceived by normal means. Even by my peoples standards. She thought quietly to herself. She relaxed considerably when she was offered the safe haven she desired. She released a long breath, as her latent empathy abilities picked up a trace of something.

"I fear we have both known the blade that is love lost. Have we not great King?" She said in a soft voice. Her eyes cast to the side, as the pain lanced through her chest. He flattered with words, that she hadn't had in a long time. Robin could give a shard less what she wore, it seemed. But Jareth, complimented her and said she was fine as she was. "Well then, we shall meet your guest." She said as she followed him.

She smiled at the young man that made his presence known to them, when they finally met with him. "Midhir of Spring." She said in a soothing voice. A small smile graced her lips, but it faded quickly. Her eyes widening as the tears threatened to fall. /Mother do not cry./ the voice of her daughter filled her mind. A shiver raced through her as she watched the young fae try to placate her by offering his blade. Her eyes danced merrily, as a small plot formed in her mind.

"Is this an offer, without strings, as your kind are oft to have? If so - then I would gladly seek they blade to be added to those of my Guard." She said as she crouched low. Then she stopped, fear pounding in her chest a little. "I need to find a way to contact my Galahad.... the children may be endangered, targeted by those that I may have angered with my recent meeting." She said as she pressed her hand to her womb. The dancing had stopped and there was a soft of angry feeling rushing through her.

She had nothing to offer, and she couldn't take the chance of owing anyone here. It was why she wanted to trade her talents, for aid. So that there was no chance of the Fae dragging her down with a deal. "I will be fine, Midhir. Yes my heart aches, and breaks for what Lady Dreamweaver, and for what Lord Goodfellow did. But I cannot fault them for being fools for love." She said as her voice shook. "I... I need to sit." She said weakly as a wave of dizziness washed through her.

[The Meddler]

"Is this an offer, without strings, as your kind are oft to have?"

"On my oath, my Lady the Specialist, the only conditions are that I shall not foreswear my other oaths."

"If so - then I would gladly seek they blade to be added to those of my Guard." She said as she crouched low.

His face fell. "Were I free to do so, my Lady the Specialist, I would accept and gladly. I fear, however, that my own duties to my Court do not allow me to accept such an honor." He smiled. "But I would have friendship between the Courts and Shining World Reborn. On my return, I shall hold a tourney, and the champion shall be clad in armor of glass and silver and shall join your Guard for a century and a year."

Then she stopped, fear pounding in her chest a little. "I need to find a way to contact my Galahad.... the children may be endangered, targeted by those that I may have angered with my recent meeting."

"You speak of Ramachulainn the Watcher? When my business with my foster father is concluded, Lady, I shall bear the message to him myself."

"I will be fine, Midhir. Yes my heart aches, and breaks for what Lady Dreamweaver, and for what Lord Goodfellow did. But I cannot fault them for being fools for love."

"Aye, my Lady. I know them both of old, and well may it be said that they are both fools for love." He smiled. "But what man or woman - Lords of Time or Lords of the Sidhe or mortal flesh - is not?" His smile turned sly. "But I shall champion thee to the gentle Puck, and speak kindly words in the ear of the Dreamweaver, when next I see them. For who is to say that, in the lives of immortals, love may be renewed as the seasons turn?"

She said as her voice shook. "I... I need to sit." She said weakly as a wave of dizziness washed through her.

"Yes, of course," he said, taking her hand and helping her to a seat. "You must care for yourself, and for your unborn children." He grinned a sly grin as she sat. "And perhaps, someday, I shall be great friends with the Seer and the Balance Keeper."

[The Master]

Jareth caught Midhir by the shoulder and pulled him away from the Specialist. "What game are you playing, my son?" he hissed.

Good humor danced in Midhir's eyes. "The same sort of game you taught me, in my decade in your Court: a game of my own devising, with my own rules."

Jareth's eyes distinctly lacked humor. "Tampering in the affairs of the Lords that Lived - particularly these three - may have deadly consequences for you, my son."

"The grandest prize has the greatest stakes. I believe you taught me that as well."

Jareth shook his head, an expression of resignation on his face. "Why have you come to my Court, Lord Midhir. Surely it was not to bandy words with Lady Serantinia, for none save my own know she guests here."

"I knew."

Jareth gave him a stern look. "Yes, of course you knew-"

"But you are correct, my foster father. I have come for another purpose. I am certain you have heard of the murders committed by the Mirror Robin? Of the deaths of the High Queen of Winter and the High Kings of Autumn and Summer?"

"I am... unwanted in the Courts, but I am not ignorant, my son. Do not try my patience."

"Well, my foster father, it seems that his Highness, my Lord Findovar - High King of Autumn and reigning King of the Seelie Courts -"

"I know his titles, my son."

Midhir didn't break stride. "-had named me his successor to his Viceroy, although in word only."

Jareth considered the implications. "And so, you seek..?"

A broad grin. "To be elected King of the Seelie Courts myself. And I have come to ask that you speak a word in my favor." He turned and bowed in the direction of the Specialist. "And if you would speak a word in my favor as well. Thou art not a Sidhe, but the word of the Mother of Time and of the Architect of the Shining World Reborn still carries much influence."

[Seren Ash]

The specialist listened to him as he spoke. It made her happy to find a place where her word carried some merit, or power behind it. She shook her head though as she released a long sigh. "I will not even allow them to know I live. I'd rather cut it off, the connection with them, then try to rebuild it. They refused to do a very humane task - that would save many of their race from death - and because of it they have marked themselves rogues in my eyes." She said this and shook a little as she sat and pressed her hand to her stomach again.

"And despite all that, I refuse to pursue them. I have all I need in my pouch, with my shrink ray. All is well, and all shall be well." She said as she listened to the giggling voice of The Seer. She wondered if The Balance Keeper would be male or female. Where her twins identical, or fraternal? She wanted to know that so much. She was distracted by the sound of a caw, and the raven was back. Staring at her, and watching her.

Her attention snapped back to Midhir at his words, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him. "Why should I vouch for you to be King? What will you do for your people, that another cannot." She said in a questioning tone. She was doing her best not to grill him, But she needed to see why he thought he should be King. "It's not the crown that makes a royal, but the people. I myself have learned that recently. Why should I vouch for you, tell me."

[The Meddler]

"I will not even allow them to know I live. I'd rather cut it off, the connection with them, then try to rebuild it. They refused to do a very humane task - that would save many of their race from death - and because of it they have marked themselves rogues in my eyes." She said this and shook a little as she sat and pressed her hand to her stomach again.

Midhir's eyes glittered, and his smile became ever so slightly feral. "My f..." he began, and Jareth's hand gripped his shoulder.

"My son," Jareth interrupted. "Mind your tongue. There are words that cannot be unsaid."

Midhir swallowed and nodded, accepting the rebuke. "I..." he started, then licked his lips and tried again. "Thank you, my Lord." He gave the Specialist a shy, embarrased look. "And from you, my Lady, I beg forgiveness. I Robin Goodfellow and my Lady the Dreamweaver are my f.. friends, and I hope that - since you visited my Hall in their company - I may call you friend as well. And it pains me to hear friends speak ill of friends, and I very nearly said that which I should not have." He fell silent for a moment. "May I hope that I may still call you friend, my lady the Specialist?"

"And despite all that, I refuse to pursue them. I have all I need in my pouch, with my shrink ray. All is well, and all shall be well." She said.

"Then, for the moment, I shall speak no more of the matter." The sly grin crept back across his face. "For the moment. But I am the Spring, and it wounds me to see loves lost and friendships forgotten."

[The Master]

Jareth watched his foster son through narrowed eyes. The younger Sidhe was, well, too direct for his tastes. Impetuous. They were qualities that no doubt served him well as King of the Spring court, but they were qualities that he had attempted to train out of the man during his fostering. Deceit. Innuendo. Misdirection. These were superior tools. He understood something of the younger man's passion, in this matter at least. But it had still blinded him, led him twice now to the brink of foolish errors of judgement.

Young Midhir, it seemed, still had much to learn.

And then he heard a caw from a nearby window. Glancing to one side, he saw that the raven had returned. "Begone," he mouthed to it, "you are not wanted, here."

And then he was distracted by Midhir, and his request for support as he sought the throne of the High King.

Her attention snapped back to Midhir at his words, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him. "Why should I vouch for you to be King? What will you do for your people, that another cannot." She said in a questioning tone. She was doing her best not to grill him, But she needed to see why he thought he should be King. "It's not the crown that makes a royal, but the people. I myself have learned that recently. Why should I vouch for you, tell me."

"Fair words, Lady Serantinia, and well spoken." Jareth seated himself on his throne and steepled his fingers. "Her answer shall be mine, Midhir my son." He smiled. "Convince us."

[The Meddler]

Midhir smiled. Straightening himself a little more, he flecked a speck of imaginary dust from his doublet.

"Good my Lord Jareth," he began, "You command me to convince you why I should be High King, and as your dutiful foster son I hasten to obey."

He bowed, and Jareth gave him a bored look. "I ask you to consider, your Highness, the prospect of a man fostered in the Court of the Goblin King as High King of the Seelie Court. Of goblins being made welcome in the Halls of the Tuatha. And of Lord Jareth, the Goblin King, as Prime Minister."

Jareth lifted an eyebrow. "Prime Minister?"

"I have said it, my foster father."

"The Court would not stand for it, my son."

Midhir's smile turned predatory. "I fear that I am but little concerned with what the Court 'will' and 'will not' stand for."

"You would compel them, then?"

"Father!" Midhir sounded shocked to an exaggerated degree. "Compulsion? Never!" His smile became more genuine. "I would just... convince them. Show them that I have done so much for them, and that I seek only one small thing in return. Show them that everything I've done, I've done for them."

A pause. "And they will comply, for they will know that I move the stars for no one."

Deathly silence, as Jareth stared over his fingertips. Then he laughed. "Midhir, my son, you have my support. If only for the pleasure of watching you attempt this."

Midhir bowed, then turned to the Specialist. "And you, my Lady the Specialist, ask why you should vouch for me? What I will do that another will not?" A shrug. "What may I say, Mother of Time, that will not sound like idle boasting? Were I to promise eternal friendship between the Seelie Courts and Gallifrey Reborn, it would sound of hollow words and empty flattery."

He paused, and it was unclear whether it was a dramatic effect or a genuine moment of searching for words. "I am not the wisest of men, nor the bravest, nor the most skilled. But I have wisdom enough to know what is right, courage enough to stand for what is right, and skill enough to do what is right. What will I do? Love justice, court mercy, and take my duty to my people as my bride." A quick flash of a smile, and his eyes twinkled. "Oh, and promise eternal friendship between the Seelie Courts and Gallifrey Reborn."