Sings "I'm Not Dead Yet" while charging paddles over plot bunny "Clear..."

Yes, I'm still around, real-life and rewriting have gotten in the way, (turns and sees Franken plot bunny rise *eep) I'll try to repost the rewritten chapters as life permits. Forgive me for not posting in *eep* five years...

In the week before the ball...

Pen kept a constant vigil at Nuada's side, only leaving to attend to her needs and be fitted for her gown. The jewels for the delicate net that would vale her hair sparkled like drops of blood set among ivory settings, linked by coppery red gold. She turned from the mirror to look at Jareth as he advised the seamstress upon the color of her dress.

"...You look lovely Guild Mistress." The seamstress said as she adjusted a seam.

"You'll silence any waging tongue, that is for sure," Jareth said. "You look like a queen..."

She shook her head, making the jewels flash in the sunlight. "I have no wish to be queen, only my beloved's consort."

"Of that, you can be assured," Jareth said. "He wanted you well-tended, even if you refused his offer."

She turned back toward the mirror to look at the delicate net, for a moment she saw the reflection of a woman who resembled Nuada.

"...It should be you wearing this..." She whispered to the reflection as it faded.

"What M'lady?" The seamstress asked.

She turned, "Nothing." She said softly. "I was thinking aloud."

The seamstress nodded, accepting the answer. Jareth was not so sure it was just thinking aloud.

Jareth made a visit to Nuada two days before the ball to update him on the preparations for the masque and coronation of the High Queen. Nuada, still unable to sit upright on his own, was propped up upon many pillows and bolsters. If any of the other nobles saw the High King so weak, it would not bode well.

"...The crown will not sit easy upon the head of your queen." Jareth said softly while Nuada starred out the window. "but you know well of this..."

"Well enough, she well-preferred her songs to the dance of nobles," Nuada said. "I often wish I could have remained in Haladar's Lands, raised my sons properly...I knew peace then..."

"As I wish I could have remained in my Gardens," Jareth said. "Then again, I know peace every time I lay next to my wife."

Nuada turned his head, shaking it gently. "I meant my folly would not have brought my beloved such pain..."

Jareth frowned, "You lament your actions toward your sons..."

"Some days with every breath," Nuada said softly. "I would that Lin did not think me a monster...that Dian would not be blind..."

It was the Goblin King who answered: "What price will you pay to turn time upon its head, High King..."

Nuada closed his eye, "One I could not pay with a good heart..."

Jareth returned. "Wise choice, your heart is black enough."

"She would have agreed with you..."

Jareth was left to wonder if Nuada meant the guild mistress or Nuala.
*

Two days later, Hours before the masque...

Nuada felt like an overgrown doll as he was dressed by the attendants Jareth had lent him for this night. A small buzz of amusement slid over the bond he now fully held to his little songbird, a reminder that both Jareth and Sara were no doubt undergoing the same process with their own attendants. He sent a feeling of warmth and acknowledgment back, though the discomfort he felt would have normally overwhelmed that feeling.

"We need to attend to your hair, your majesty." said one of the goblin-sidhe maids.

He made a weak attempt to shift so they could attend to his near waist-length hair. The maid ended up gently pulling the strands from behind him. He hated being so weak, it made him feel even more like a doll.

"Lady Pen is no doubt undergoing the same thing," Jareth said as he entered. "I've made arrangements for you to be in the ballroom beforehand...so no one will know how weak you are."

He gave a slight nod, it was as planned. "And for my Queen?"

"The birthing room is already prepared." He said. "Tam Lin arrived from Maynooth this morning, Dian from the guildhall, the elder of your sons looks as if he'd have rather come for your funeral."

This too Nuada had planned for, he would have gladly had it be so when it came to atoning.

"I do not blame the boy," Nuada said. "He is happy there, what of Dian Cecht?"

"He has not said much, but like most apprentice singers he does not waste breath on words where a note will do," Jareth said. "He takes after his mother in that respect..."

He frowned, the memory of those strange Milky Jade eyes reminded him of the heavy price that came with an ill-placed curse.

"Does he share Lin's sentiments?"

"As I said, he has not spoken much," Jareth said. "A trait I'm sure he also shares with his sire when in contemplation."

Nuada let a smile play at his lips with that barb, he'd spoken much as of late.

"I doubt he even knows how to hate me," Nuada said. "For him, there has always been darkness..."

"He can hate, of that I am sure," Jareth said. "Even despite the darkness." He let out a breath. "I had the queen's regalia brought."

The soft tap of a cane upon stone announced another presence in the room. Nuada dared not turn for fear of the boy's hatred.

"...I-I was told my sire was here..." The voice was hesitant, soft. "M-may I e-enter..."

"Enter young singer..." Jareth said. "and be welcome."

The soft pad-tap, pad-tap said the boy approached, hesitant as his voice.

"Atar..."

Nuada turned, Dian's eyes were closed sealing off their diluted jade hue. Something he was silently grateful for, he needed no more reminders of his folly this night.

"I am here," Nuada said softy.

"Atara becomes queen today..."

"Yes," Nuada said. "And you shall be a prince..."

He watched the boy frown, so much like his mother.

"Atara said I was born one...but my eyes..."

Nuada felt his heart stop for a moment, but sealed it off from the bond not wanting to trouble his bond mate.

"Dian Cecht." Nuada said, his heart grinding into even smaller pieces. "You may not rule, but it does not mean you are any less of my blood."

The boy reached out his hand, so much like his mother's. Nuada almost puled back at the boy's touch, not wanting to burden his son further. Jareth laid a steadying hand on Nuada's shoulder.

"Let him know," Jareth said.

The touch was light, a healer's touch. The boy's face showed wonder, his fingers skimming the royal mark, then the scars where his sire had pulled his own eye out in madness.

"Atara said you hurt y-yourself..." his voice was hesitant again.

"Many times over." Nuada murmured.

"Why didn't Atara heal you?"

It was a question he'd not been prepared to answer, not to his son or himself.

"She could not, and it cannot be healed," Nuada said.

The heavy tread of one in armor made Dian Cecht move back, turning his face into a deeper frown.

"I see you've found our sire..." Tam nearly spat, from the doorway. "I hope you know now what kind of monster he is..."

"I-I did." The boy's hand curled into a fist. "H-he is n-not a m-m-monster."

"Spoken by one who does not know him."

Nuada wondered if the boy's stutter was from the curse or a natural part of his speech.

Jareth moved to block Tam's accesses to the room, the elder young man's hate had no place in it. Nuada could almost taste the ash of that hate on his tongue.

"Stand aside Goblin, I would have words with my sire."

Jareth shifted his stance. "Your not welcome..."

"Let him pass, Jareth." Nuada said. "As I said, he has a right to his hate."

Jareth moved aside, frowning as the armor-clad young man pushed passed him.

"If you did not share a bond with my mother I would rend you into a thousand pieces."

Nuada said nothing, nor lifted a hand to those words. He could not, another reason to hate his weakness.

"And I would gladly bow to the blade," Nuada said. "You have all the reason in the world to hate me."

"Hate, Atar is such a mild word for what I feel for you..." He hissed. "I will serve your court, but no more...for I am not your son."

With that Tam turned on his heel and marched out, leaving Dian Cecht shaking his head.

"B-brother h-h-hates s-s-so m-much." Dian stammered, frustrated at himself. "D-damn."

"And I have earned that hate," Nuada said. "Perhaps it is best you go to prepare yourself..."

"I-I w-will..."

He left, the pad-tap echoing down the hall.

"I doubt the way he speaks is because of what you laid upon him," Jareth said. "Many young singers stammer coming into their power.

"It began when He tried to touch me...I doubt Tam's presence helped though."

There was a twinge from the bond, no doubt Pen had caught a drifting of what he felt.

"We need to get you to the ballroom," Jareth said, thinking it prudent to get the High King in the ballroom quickly. "Before the guests arrive."

"Yes...before the guests arrive..." Nuada said, touching one of the plaits that had been restored to his hair.

After seeing Nuada was settled in the ballroom, Jareth went to check up on the Guildmistress. He found her looking down at the delicate net made for her coronation as High Queen.

"Your sons arrived." He said, approaching where she sat.

"I felt Nuada's reaction to Tam Lin," She said. "My son does not understand, he only knows his sire abandoned me for another who looked upon him with contempt."

"You should get ready," Jareth said signaling the maid to adorn Pen's hair. "You have tongues to silence and a king to make whole..."

She bowed her head as the net was laid over it, perhaps already feeling the weight of a crown.

"The crown already weighs heavy." She said. "and I have not yet put it upon my head..."

"That is only one cost," Jareth said. "...There are midwives if you should need them."

She let herself have a small smile. "...they will come if they choose."

"He worries, then again you can feel that."

"I do, I also know the price paid for that knowledge..."

"I suspect you have always known," Jareth said. "Even before he bound his life to you."

"...Do not tempt me," She said softly. "I have come to know the goblin king when I hear him."

Jareth let out a sigh. "Do you still see the dark..."

"How can I not." She said. "I no longer see his death..."

"what do you see My queen." The goblin king whispered.

Pen shook her head, groaning as she rolled from bed. Another dream, and puzzle.

It was still a few days before the masque and the dream was vivid enough to set the small ones into a minor panic. She felt Nuada weakly lay a hand upon her swollen belly.

"...You dream too deeply songbird..."

She let herself lean into that touch, knowing what she had seen was all too real. She laid her hand over his as the two small minds settled back into sleep.

"...They worry for us." He said, absorbing the feel of her touch. "It is not good for them..."

She had become aware that the twin's agitation was from far more than a dream.

Atar not well...

Atar sick...

She reached out to touch Nuada's face, her fingers met sweat and damp hair.

"Let me get the healers..." She said, knowing he'd only insist it was nothing.

"No...stay with me." he said, "Let me rest..."

She knew this was not good, not when the ball was only a few days away.

"You're burning up," She said, her healer's voice boding no argument. "I am going for the healers, I will not let tongues wag that the High King did not attend his own ball..."

He gave her a weak smile, before closing his eyes.

The healers did not sugar coat what was wrong with the High King, not to Pen. She sat quietly as the head healer measured out what looked and smelled like hoof scrapings into his mortar.

"...He should not have taken the bond in his condition," The healer said. "But no doubt he knew this, his concern for you and the unborns has been all that has been on his lips since his arrival in Jareth's castle."

"No doubt." She said softly. "And you intend to give him that as "punishment"?"

"No, this is for a goblin who seems a bit peaked." He said. "What his majesty needs is rest, though, with the Masque so close, I doubt he will gain it."

"Jareth is hosting..."

"In the High King's name, but most of the guests do not know this." The healer smiled. "They still believe that the High King is to be their host, though most of the staff know otherwise."

"And you are one so privileged?" she said softly.

"I must be, I am tending to the High King." He said, pouring what was no doubt something foul into the mixture. "And to his queen."

She smiled. "I am not so yet."

"Believe as you wish," He said, reaching for a bottle "Have him drink this, it will give him a bit of rest before he must be high king again."

She uncorked the bottle and sniffed, "Dark chocolate and poppy?"

"For pain, his body is still healing." He frowned. "And the strain of the bond has complicated some aspects and accelerated others."

She raised an eyebrow "such as?"

"That I have not fully assessed," He said, "but it should not impede his appearance at the Masque..."

Pen wondered if this was true, then again the powerful combination was not unheard of for one as ill as Nuada.
*

The next day…

Jareth watched Pen pace back and forth, though in her condition it was more waddle than pace. This gave the goblin king little amusement though, as the agitation was more or less over the already wagging tongues of the arriving guests.

"…I really hate arstos." Pen said as she paced. "They know not when to shut up about their…"

"Superiority?" Jareth inquired. "Or their contempt?"

Pen stopped and sighed. "Both and neither."

Jareth raised an eyebrow.

"They look at me and do not see a Singer or even the head of a guild, only a human." She shook her head. "One they would gladly have in your bed and not Nuada's."

"I see," Jareth said. "And would there be a source to such rumors?"

"Yes, and I'd like to pull her tongue out and feed it to that yapping creature she keeps with her."

"I know of whom you speak," Jareth said. "She has been a thorn in my side for ages, I never should have agreed to the political alliance with her house."

Pen heard much regret in his words. Then she remembered the prisoner he'd brought to the guildhall.

"The execution you asked of Lochain…"

Jareth nodded. "…I owed him for his betrayal, but in the end, he was still my son."

Pen sighed. "…I was at the guildhall when it happened. I watched you depart…"

Jareth shook his head. "That is not why you came to me, to rehash old wounds."

"No, It is not." She said. "The rumors are bad enough, but there is a maliciousness to them that is far beyond simple spite. The ones that say you intend to slay the High King seem to have stronger wings than most…"

Jareth had heard those rumors for the last several years and knew well who had planted that particular worm in the gossips' ears.

"...I will deal with the gossipmonger. Seeing you with the queen's crown upon your head will silence the rest."

"I do hope so…" Pen said, turning to return to the Queen's suite.

Later that day…

Nuada took slow deep breaths, even sitting was an exhausting choir, made worse by the stiff brace the healer insisted upon to give the illusion he was sitting on his own. He extended his senses to his bond mate, her calm eased some of the burdens.

"…In four day's time, you will be my queen." He said softly. "And no one will dispute my choice."

Pen smiled. "That can be a lifetime away."

"And I could live twice over with you at my side." He said. "…I hate this, I should not be so weak…"

"Your body has taken more than it's share of pain…" Pen said. "And you've carried a heavier burden than I these long years."

Not for the first time did he regret the gulf that still stood between them.

"…Now I have taken my share." He said. "Jareth has made arrangements for me to be in the ballroom before the guests arrive. I would that you be beside me."

"…and I shall." Pen said. "Tam and Dian will be arriving tomorrow…"

He nodded, "Tam still hates me, not only for my abandonment of you…"

"And Dian knows you not." She said, rising from the chair beside him. "Give them both time, Tam will serve if nothing else. Dain knows where he walks…"

"And what do they say of the two you carry?"

"Tam is ever fussing, much like his father at times." She smiled at him. "Dain is eager to have other siblings…"

He reached over and touched her belly, sighing as the little ones crashed against his awareness.

Atar…

He sent a wave of love, feeling them settle into quiet again. Her hand covered his, knowing he was feeling the apprehension of the two little minds.

"…They are eager to know the world." She said. "As their elder siblings were…"

He smiled. "And I am eager to meet them."

She leaned forward, kissing his temple. He let out a soft noise, wishing only to be released from the brace and rest.

"Let us get you out of that thing and get some rest."

He nodded, "I will need to rest, but I cannot let the court know of my weakness."

Pen returned to her seat, watching for the signs that would indicate weakness to an outside observer.