EPILOGUE

Settled into the Northwest sector, Sarah and Jareth fell easily into life without a castle and several hundred goblins milling about. Ian served as a fine king and those who Jareth had left him with served the son as finely as they had the father. The Underground was functioning at an amazing rate, filled with life and vegetation. Its people fulfilled and satisfied. Runners of the gauntlet had become almost unheard of, but every now and again, Ian would slip away Aboveground to explore the things which had intrigued him so during his visits with his father. Thus it should have come as no surprise when Arulan first began to notice his distraction from his duties. In fact, it should have been plain to Deverell when more and more fell to him as the new king spent afternoons scribbling in the royal journal and staring out the window at the world. But they remained ignorant.

With none to guess, he gave himself away when, during a visit with his father, they sat motionless above the chess board. "It's your move son."

"Are you certain?"

"Aye, and have been for nearly an hour now. I give credit to your concentration, but at what point should I begin to confuse it for distraction?"

"Long before you arrived I'm afraid."

"So I thought. Tell me what's taken your every thought away son?"

Breathing deeply and squaring his shoulders, Ian admitted, "Father, I am in love." Jareth eyed him quizzically for this was the first he had heard of the notion from his son's lips. "The sky written, mountain shouted kind you wished for me to find."

"I see," his father said. "And where have you found such deep emotions?"

"I didn't. They found me." Ian was fascinated by how it had happened, really. He'd been doing nothing extraordinary, nothing new or different. Only keeping course with his regular habits and he had stumbled upon a woman who filled his heart to bursting. "It's as if I went walking in the forest, kicked over a stone and beneath it discovered heaven."

"Is she a royal son?" Jareth asked. Intrigued himself now as he listened to his child.

"She shall be when I marry her."

"Ah, a commoner then? Elf, fey, tell me of this beauty. Or is it that her beauty is in her simplicity, as was your mother's when first I discovered her?"

Smiling he confided. "She is much like mother, only her hair is the color of spun gold and her eyes are dark, nearly black, which is an unusual combination to say the least. Her skin is pink, a rosy blush from the tips of her fingers to the ends of her toes." Forgetting himself he described her more personally than he had intended. "And her lips, her lips are like an untouched bud, perpetually pursed, waiting for morning's dew to draw them into bloom."

"How long have you know this woman?"

"A lifetime and yet, sadly, I know nothing more than her name. Her people call her Wynn, but her name does her no justice. She is beauty. She is grace. She is the wind, for when I chase her she constantly alludes me by staying just beyond my reach."

"A sprite, then."

"No father. She is a mortal girl."

For a moment he reacted as his grandfather had when his mother had met her love, as the Triumvirate had reacted to he and Sarah, but when senses got the better of him he asked, "And this mortal girl, does she return these affections that you have for her?"

"Wynn refuses to admit how her heart feels and would as easily cast me aside as a thorn from her finger when she picks roses in her father's garden, but she loves me father. Of this I am certain."

Warily, he continued to question his child, "How are you certain? What makes you so sure?"

"Because father, I gave her a bit of my magic and she accepted it. The smallest piece, the tiniest seed. Someday that seed will be watered by the tears of knowing none can please her heart but me and then all she need to do is ask and I will come to her."

Hiding his laughter behind his hand, Jareth marveled at how alike he and his son had become, though they shared no blood, no formal ties. It was as if this child had been born for them. And in that moment, he recalled the way he had returned to the Underground in what seemed now like it had been another life. He sought the counsel of the Cleric and himself admitted. "I have wanted her since I knew her soul and the Supreme One means for me to have her by giving her soul a form. What form matters little to me." Only to be questioned as to how I knew her feelings would be reciprocated, to which Jareth confidently replied. "I have given her certain powers and when she is prepared for me, she will call."