|
|
|
I couldn't believe it. I had known my mother was fae, but a queen?! Even after living for over a century, that still came to me as a shock. I continued reading, as curious as I was hurt and, slightly, afraid.
"Meritorious and his queen had a son, Jareth, who was named successor upon reaching 21 years." I checked the birthdate, confirming the fae lineage; it read July 27, 1644, 200 years before I was born. (When you're immortal, it is easy to distinguish your own kind from mere mortals.)
"Jareth ruled over the Goblin Kingdom with a firm hand and a whimsical spirit, a spirit that often clouded his judgement when negotiating with others, which led to many conflicts with neighboring kingdoms and other individuals. The most famous of these battles was between the king himself and a mortal girl." This was an interesting bit of information that I would question Jareth on at some other point in time.
Still, it was nothing but useless information; I needed to find out more about my mother. Then, a small note in the margin caught my eye. Written in the ancient Persian script of my childhood, it took my a while to decipher. (I hadn't read Persian in a hundred years, so it was natural I was little rusty, right?) Here is what said: "Yet to be confirmed. The queen has taken a lover and had a child by him. Jareth has a half-fae brother."
I immediately knew this was true because I was that child, the incarnation of the darkness of my mother's heart. I also knew that I should never tell my newly discovered family that we shared common parentage. He probably wouldn't believe me anyway.
Then again, I felt like I shouldn't be burdened with another secret. I had so many already: Jasper's disappearence, Christine's first-born's heiritage, my true identity, my immortality, just to name a few. Sinking down underneath the herculean burden of my cursed existence, I curled up on the floor and silently let my eyes be consumed by darkness.
I saw him for the first time that night, or I should say, I saw myself. At least, you would think he looked like my old self. He was tall, had short black hair, and was wearing all black. He also had a white mask on that covered half his face. He could easily be mistaken for me if you didn't look too closely.
The only detail that could differentiate us was our eyes. Mine had been as blue as a clear sky (In my current form, they were the color of yellow amber.); his were as purple as a clouded sunset, and currently they were watching a young maiden, singing her heart out, sitting on a rock in the ocean. I could tell it was the ocean because I smelled salt in the air.
I could tell he was dazzled by her by the way he stared at her. "See how she leans her cheek upon her hand," he whispered, quoting from Act 2, Scene 5 of Romeo and Juliet. (When you're immortal, you have a lot of time to read.) "Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek."
Oh no! He even sounded like me, at least in the way his speech flowed. The allure in his voice was positively magical, like Jareth's voice, like mine still was when I needed it to be. Unlike this young "twin" of mine, I had learned the consequences of such irresistability.
The maiden shifted her position and I saw that she was of the sea, a mermaid and a princess from the look of it. A young man was watching her, a man that I sensed did not value her for what she truly was. 'She will be mine,' my "twin" thought before vanishing into ominous shadows.
Something that felt like a foot was prodding me when I blinked myself to wakefulness. I turned and saw Jareth staring down at me. "I'm a book lover myself," he said, "but staying up into the wee hours of the morning to read is never a good thing."
I nodded and stood up. "Would you care to tell me about where I am exactly, your majesty?" I inquired, half goading, half suspicious, as I bowed before my older brother.
"I was hoping you wouldn't find out until I told you, but I guess leaving the history of my family out on the bookstand wasn't a wise move on my part. Since you know my history, I'm sure all of the questions you would have had, had you not found out, have been answered I expect."
"Not exactly. I want to know whether or not you've seen someone who reminds you of your mother." I had almost said "our mother" but thankfully stopped myself.
"That matter, traveller, is private business." I could tell from the look on his face that he had seen the other "me" somewhere in his immortal lifetime. I could also tell that he had caused him trouble.
Choosing not to question him further on the subject, I asked if I could stay on in his magical labyrinth. "As long as I'm here," I said, "I might as well check out the sights." This was an excuse to stay here longer and try to find out more about my "twin", since it seemed that Jareth's libray had books on just about everything.
"I shall make you a bargain, traveller," said the wry king. "When the time comes for you to leave, you must tell me something I do not know. If you do not, you shall stay on in my kingdom forever."
If this wager was supposed to intimidate me, it wasn't working. Then again, being experienced with fae, I knew that almost nothing escaped their acute perceptiveness. I knew I would find an answer to my brother's riddle, and since he hadn't specified a time limit- "You have one year to give me my answer. By then, what you saw in your dreams last night, will come to pass and I shall no longer have time for you."
Strike that. I had one year to solve this seemingly unconquerable task. As Jareth turned to leave the room, he said, "You should know this though. The person who reminded me of my mother."
"What about him?" I asked, slight annoyance in my voice, not turning around from looking out of the carved stone window.
"His name was Lelouch."
My brother left me to ponder his challenge, and my new found doppelganger. If I could find out what the other "me" was planning to do, I would be able to help Jareth before he even needed it. 'Lelouch,' I thought, turning the name over in my mind. 'If that's what Jareth wants to forget, I shall make him remember even if he suffers for it.' He didn't deserve it, no-good braggart that he was, though I barely knew him, but my other "self", Lelouch, must have resented him deeply for I felt the urge to subject him to the most foul tortures I could think of.
 srs diva 2011 xxl · Sat Nov 14, 2009 @ 08:02pm · 1 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
