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At first, Victoria looked shocked. But in the next moment, the surprise disappeared, her lip curling hatefully as she glared openly at Jareth.
By now the guards from the hall had burst into his chambers, alerted by the noise, and were standing around awkwardly, swords half-drawn.
“Guards,” Jareth snapped, “Escort Victoria to the well. She’s to stay there overnight. Then make sure she’s packed and ready to leave an hour before dawn, as well as reporting all her findings to Beatrice. She’s to be off the castle grounds before sunrise.” He looked squarely at the witch as he spoke.
The guards made a move to grab Victoria, yet first she bowed lowly, mockingly, to Jareth. “Yes, Your Grace,” she purred venomously. Then, with great dignity, allowed herself to be escorted from the room.
Only when the party had left, leaving him and Tarick alone in the bedroom, did Jareth relax from the strained tension that tightened in him the moment he learned what Victoria had done. His beast was not happy, but it no longer pushed forward. He sighed, shaking his head, disturbed by the turn of events.
“Bad idea, to make an enemy of a witch,” Tarick remarked blandly.
“Bad idea for a witch to make an enemy of me,” Jareth retorted darkly, then sighed. It was no secret that witches were coveted in the North for their magical competence. There was much they could do that normal people, of course, could not. Yet Victoria had stepped too far out of bounds. He’d always known that Victoria thought highly of herself, that she was narcissistic and believed her own opinion was superior to that of others. Yet she had crossed a line. Now Jareth saw her as an enemy.
There was regret there, for on a drunken night years ago, a fornication had resulted in a pregnancy. Jareth had quickly allowed her into his home. Though not once had she shown an interest in Newtalia since the birth. Jareth hadn’t asked for her hand, nor decided to tie them together in any way.
Remembering the fae boy, Jareth glanced over to the bed, feeling an odd touch of guilt for making such a scene in front of the small one. But the boy was not on the bed, as Jareth had commanded him.
He felt the hair on his arms raise in worry, another strange emotion that he did not understand why he felt towards the boy.
“He ran into the washroom,” Tarick explained wryly, noticing Jareth’s glance.
“Did he?” Jareth mused, meeting Tarick’s eye and disliking the knowing look his friend gave him.
Tarick rolled his eyes and swung his arms to cross them over his chest, relaxing himself. “Come, friend. Talk to me about it. I know your bothers have been brewing in that thick head of yours, and I fear the concoction you’ve stirred up. Speak.”
Jareth knew that Tarick was referring to the fae boy, the young man who’d been eating up the spaces in his mind as of late. He had few other worries: his beloved daughter was healthy, his kingdom happy, Diagor was working in tandem with Malthens to re-establish Suscon, and though correspondence was lackluster, it was smooth running. There was much to be done concerning the latter matter, and yet all Jareth could think about was the damn boy.
“Would it be shameful for a King,” he said finally, “to admit that he is unsure?”
Tarick grinned and shook his head. “I would say that it would be wise of a king. Common, in your case.”
Jareth paused, unsure how to broach the subject. “His…smell…”
If he was being perfectly honest, Jareth had doubted his harshness towards the boy in the beginning, knowing somewhere deep that he had made a grave mistake when agreeing to allow Victoria to take him to the well that first time. He’d been so angry, and he had rid the Susconian palace of its noble folk, it only made sense to get rid of the emperor’s bed boy as well. But then he had remembered the boy curled up on his bed, the look of confusion as he took in Jareth’s anger, and Jareth knew he had to place a halt on the witch’s ritual.
He’d run down to the courtyard to stop it, only to discover the prisoner had once again run away, and when he learned the true nature of the boy, that he was the same jinx that had placed this beastly curse on them all, his anger had returned.
Yet when Jareth had found him in the iced alleyway, a smell had pierced his nose, strong enough to strike him down.
Even now, he remembered it so clearly, how the igniting euphoria had gripped him as he’d pressed his nose into the skin of the boy’s neck and inhaled, through tendrils of red locks. He had wanted to bury himself there, dig deep into the soft flesh and simplybreathe. The fae boy smelt perfectly wonderful: like home, without ever having known the comfort of shelter, like a feast after never having swallowed a crumb of food. The scent was heavenly, and so compelling, that something in Jareth had shook.
When he had finally found the strength to pull away, the thin fae limp in his arms, he knew right away that something in him had changed.
Unknowing what to do with this new swell of emotion towards the boy, he’d ended up passing him over to a guard, only hours later cursing his competence to make decisions, as he had filled with more regret.
“Yes, I have smelt him,” Tarick mused. “It is odd, that we are so drawn to him as beasts, as Beatrice nor Victoria seemed to sense the same draw. Beatrice has some suspicions on the reason behind all that.”
Jareth frowned, turning away. “Nevertheless…”
“Nevertheless, you’ve acted poorly?” Tarick guessed gently.
“That is an understatement. The boy should never have been treated thus. He should have been released with all of the other Susconian birds.”
“Well…there is still time to do right by him, you know.”
At first Jareth didn’t respond. Even to the man that served as a brotherly companion, it was difficult to voice his personal concerns. “I’m not so sure about that. And I’m not sure about…being around the boy is taxing, as I do not feel in control. He is in every way Susconian, the late Emperor’s companion, and there is a part of me that hates him for that. Yet there is a greater part of me that pulls on my regrets towards my actions on how he was treated. His scent opened my eyes to that regret, but it also urges me to…” Protect him? Stay with him? Nurture him?
Jareth sighed and shut his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose in an attempt to expel his own confusion.
