Title: A Mother’s Perspective

Summary: What happens when a mother runs out of steam? What happens when that mother is Fae?

All rights are reserved, but not by me. This short story is a work of fiction. All original characters in this story are fictional, but based on actual persons. Said persons have been contacted and their permission to use their resemblances has been granted. This means, if I didn’t talk to you about this, it’s not you in this. Permission for the use of the non-original characters has not been requested by the author or granted by the licensor. This short story was written for your perusal and pleasure. No compensation, either financial or actual, has been collected or requested

Maurasoon and Mother Elbridge are mine. No one can be as bad as Mother Elbridge.

Plea for Reason: Okay, so this is total wish fulfillment. It is a very different perspective than from anything I’ve seen on here. Just try it on for size. LEAVE ALL EXPECTATIONS HERE.

Once upon a time, in a land some humans had heard of and even few were sure existed, lived a girl. Her family was not rich; they were not even landed. Her mother was a kitchen maid in the employ of the king. Her father—she was unsure of whom her father was, but, it was well known that many of the lords of the Court had roving eyes. Even some of the briefest encounters can produce the most wonderful results. This was the case with Maurasoon.

Maurasoon was a lovely child. She was fair of face like her mother, without a care to mar it. Her hair fell in natural waves the color of burled walnut, resplendent with glints of gold when the sun glance off of it as she ran in the yard. Her eyes were the color of maple leaves in the autumn, pale brown with the hint of the memory of their summer green. A happy girl with a quick laugh and always full of mischief. Many of the household servants would shake their heads at her antics as she played with the other children of the castle’s occupants.

Sometimes a strange child would come to play, but would only stay one day. Some of these children would be distressed and cry for its parent. Usually these children were playful, full of curiosity and wonder. Maurasoon would always be drawn to these strange children. How lively they were! She would get into the most interesting scrapes with them. Their plain appearance belied the breath of their emotion--the heights of the elation, the depths of their anguish; so unlike her usual playmates. Not that the children of the castle were devoid of emotions, but they were more reserved. Maurasoon’s contemporaries emotions were drawn from a palette of muted tones and pastels, where these transients were painted in bold colors in contrasting patterns.

As she grew, Maurasoon would see some of the older children leave. They had to attend to studies that would prepare them for their lives at Court. She noticed that the more immersed in their studies, the more distant they became from their feelings. They became aloof and cold. She dreaded adulthood because of this. She could not bear the thought of leaving behind her mirth and emotions. She treasured her emotions. They were hers and hers alone to share. She did not realize that her station in life would keep her from the Court etiquette she so despised. Few of the castle children understood her moods, but the strange ones always did. She found herself looking forward to their company, even knowing that they were there for a short time.

As her chores increased, she found herself resenting this intrusion to her joy. She vowed that she would not become as the others who had grown to be quiet and reserved. Maurasoon bided her time; she spoke to the children who came briefly, questioning them about their past. She bided her time and she planned. She told no one of the scheme. She would sneak in glances while the young prince took his lessons from the sages, learning while he did. No one knew of her covert lessons, save that she was away from her duties. For this, she felt the sting of the switch across her shoulders. Even this pain she would endure to learn what she must to save her deepest desires, her passions.

At last the time came when she felt that she had gleaned enough information from her activities to set her plan in motion. That night, instead of wishing her mother a good night, she bid her mother good bye.

Maurasoon found herself in a strange place—a strange world. She had never practiced the spells before, thinking she would only use them once, to escape. Now, she had escaped! She felt both liberated to express herself freely and confined in her terror of the uncertainty and the unknown.

She took in her surroundings. Whether it was dark because she was indoors or it was night, she was unsure. She seemed to have landed someplace where there was a hard, smooth surface surrounded by hand hewn walls. Upon examination, she noticed that the walls were made up of uniformly shaped rectangles of dark red clay. Maurasoon shivered in a cool breeze. She looked up. It seemed too far above her to be a ceiling, yet there were no stars. As her unease abated, she noticed there was a brightening further along down the wall. There was more light beyond this space.

She walked towards it. The walls abruptly ended and she realized that she had landed in an alley between two buildings. Buildings that were as tall as the castle she just left. “Are there nothing but kings here?” Maurasoon wondered to herself. She turned out of the alley and shivered as she walked. Her simple surplice and side-less surcoat were poor protection from the autumbrial night wind.

What strange things were in this world! Large metal boxes on black wheels either stood by the path she walked along or moved in the blackened alley alongside of them. The ones that were in motion spewed forth a noxious vapor that caused Maurasoon’s eyes to tear and sent her into a bout of irritated coughing. What strange roads were these? They were more suited for buildings made of stone instead of the good earth of nature. Maurasoon’s eyes squinted as she looked up at the strange trees that bore one fruit. It was from this fruit that the light beckoned her forth from the alley.

She noticed a woman with a kindly smile approach her. This tall strange woman with a gentle voice and dark skin asked Maurasoon if she was cold. Maurasoon nodded. The woman placed a rough blanket around her shoulders and guided her gently to one of the metal boxes by the side of the path. Saying soothing words that promised of a hot meal and a warm place to sleep, she calmed Maurasoon’s fears as she helped the frightened girl into the side.

Once the woman strapped Maurasoon into a seat, she took a seat in front of her. The man in the other seat spoke to the woman and she nodded. Maurasoon let out a terrified yelp as the metal box roared into life and started to vibrate. The stranger turned around in her seat and placed a reassuring hand on her knee. Then the metal box started to move on its own. “Where were the beasts to pull it?” Maurasoon’s overwrought brain screamed as she frantically took in the sights and sounds that overwhelmed her. The woman continued to talk in soothing tones which, after a while, helped to calm Maurasoon a bit. Maurasoon ventured to look out of one of the windows of the box. She saw other boxes moving alongside of her extremely fast, faster than any beast of burden could have pulled them.

The scenery slowly changed from what seemed to be dwellings to a more wooded area. There were less of those metal boxes traveling along side of them now. They had been traveling for about an hour, by what Maurasoon could determine by her internal clock. They were approaching a large solitary building that was surrounded by an imposing metal gate. If she were literate, Maurasoon would have been able to know that the building the box on wheels was trundling towards was called The Woman’s Aid for the Destitute.

“Max! We’re leaving in less than five…Tommy, sweetie, put your shoes on before your coat…Hun, Tom has soccer practice, so I’ll get him and Max after school. Can you pick up the twins? …Bobby, Rachel, thank you for coming down the stairs so nicely. Get your shoes and coats on, please…MAXINE!”

Gary Elbridge wondered how his wife was able to do it. Mary Sue was the model of multi-tasking mothers. He watched as his eldest daughter, Maxine, navigated the stairs with her nose in a book.

“Max, the book is staying home. Hurry up. The world doesn’t revolve around you. Let’s go!” Mary was doing her best not to berate, but was failing. The rising volume of her voice and her accent expressed her annoyance.

“Don’t yell, love.” Gary murmured in her ear as he leaned over to give her a reassuring kiss while he reached for his case. “Give me a lift to the train station?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind jumping out as I drive by.” Mary gave her husband a weak smile, appreciating his small gesture of affection. She tucked a stray hair back into her loose chignon as she bent over to help her youngest son tie his shoelaces.

Mary Sue Elbridge leaned back in her chair with her eyes closed. Her work was her relaxing time. Her office reflected it as much as the city engineers who furnished her office allowed her to do so. There were the obligatory degrees from universities and post graduate studies that were required to be posted in plain view, but there were also reprints of fantastic open prairie scenes from some of the greatest American painters of the genre. There were tall plaster vases filled with dried phragmites flanking the doorway. She tried to convey the sense of relaxation onto her clients by hanging a framed poster behind her that simply read ‘Breathe‘ in a flowing script. On the right hand wall were three windows that looked out on the downtown area from her tenth floor vantage point. She sat upright before looking at the couple with a young boy seated next to them.

She smiled at him. “How are you doing, Nick? Having fun at the Hendersons?” Her brown eyes took in everything about the 10-year-old child. He looked much better than when she last saw him two months ago. Then, Nick was afraid to make eye contact with her and his health was in deplorable condition. Now he had color in his cheeks, clean clothes on, and was able to look at her long enough to give her a scowl.

“Well,” Nick shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “They don’t let me do what I want, I havta go to school every day. They don’t let me watch the movies I wanna watch--”

“Nick, I wouldn’t let my11-year-old watch some of those movies!” Mary interjected. Nick just glowered at her.

Mary looked in the file on her desk. She found the school nurse’s report. Hmmm…withdrawn…quiet…into sports…what she did not find was any indication of anti-social behavior or violence. Mary glanced over to the Hendersons. They were a young couple in their thirties. This was their first foster child. Mrs. Henderson’s eyes were wide with nervous fright, her posture stiff. Her spouse cleared his throat.

“Nick, what about that pick-up game at the park over the weekend? We were invited by one of those guys back to his house? You played some video games, ate pizza, exchanged numbers?” Nick squirmed even more uncomfortably.

“Do you have anything else you would like to add to your list of grievances?” Mary asked seriously. Nick glared out the window.

Mary leaned forward in her seat, trying to get the child’s attention. “You know, Nick, what you have to say is very important to me. Do me a favor? Go to Ellen and tell her everything that you just told me so that she can type it up. Then, I’ll review it and keep it in your file. I’ll have a little chat with the Hendersons and I’ll see what I can do for now.”

Nick got up and slouched out of the office. Once the door was firmly shut behind him, Mary gave the anxious couple a comforting smile.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing just fine.” Mrs. Henderson breathed a sigh of relief. Her body immediately relaxed against her husband’s as he put a reassuring arm around her.

“He needs time to adjust. Eight weeks isn’t a whole lot of time.” Mary shuffled the papers back into Nick’s file. “You’re setting limits. Something he’s never had before. He needs them. Keep up the good work.”

“We were so worried…”Mrs. Henderson’s voice trailed off as she looked up at her husband. “We’re so new at all of this.”

“I understand,” Mary said, nodding. “We all embark down this path inexperienced. We only have our childhood experiences to go on. Hopefully, you can help erase some of Nick’s past pain and help him to learn how to trust again.”

“Now, I need to see you again in two months time with Nick. In that time, he needs to see the court appointed child psychologist…” she continued explaining the necessary procedures and appointments to fulfill the state’s requirement for adoption.

After the young couple left, Mary allowed herself to sit back and relax. She loved her work. She loved helping children reach their full potential emotionally in emotionally stable, loving relationships. She gazed out her window as she thought to her own childhood.

Her position in this society was not unlike the transient children from this world in her own. Those children were far from their own land and stayed at the castle until they were placed with a family. Did they spirit themselves away as she had a few months ago? Unlike in her former world, where the children were placed by the end of one day’s passage, Maurasoon stayed in this castle for many months. During that time, she studied the language and customs of her new home. She was an eager student.

In time, Maurasoon was placed with a family. They lived in a charming suite of rooms that were in a building not unlike the ones she had seen on that first night. Se had learned that these buildings were not castles, yet the size of the rooms and the furnishings were luxurious to her. Maurasoon felt blessed that the family that she was placed with had both parents as well as three younger children.

For a while, everyone was cordial as they grew to know one another. Maurasoon attended to her studies as well as assisted with the younger children. This was the joy of her life; to be in an environment where emotions were celebrated with outbursts of laughter, bouts of petulance, expressions of love, and flares of anger. Maurasoon blossomed under the watchful eyes of her adopted parents as she played and tended to her new siblings. She never imagined how deep the bonds of kindredship could run until she experienced the trials and tribulations of sisterhood.

As time passed and all became comfortable with each other, Maurasoon was given more responsibilities within the family. It fell to her to tend to the younger children’s daily needs as both parents were required to work longer hours. Although she loved her siblings, she felt the burden heavily. It was at times like this that her mind would wander to her previous life. An existence without the responsibilities of study and childrearing. A time where children could be taken away to be reared by a group of adults and children instead of one woman-child.

So it came to pass one night, after a particularly grueling day of frustration with her classes, and hurt beyond measure by the harsh and ungrateful words of the oldest adopted sister, she could bear her burden no longer. “No! No!” she thought to herself as she gritted her teeth, her eyelids and fists clenched shut. “I mustn’t say the words!” She opened her eyes to the pandemonium of that evening.

The eldest sister was standing in front of her, arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked out with a smirk on her face, daring Maurasoon to defy her right to wear her mother’s best blouse for a dress up costume. The youngest sister was howling at her elbow, seated at the table where Maurasoon was attempting to feed the recalcitrant child her dinner that the rest finished a half hour earlier. The final insult was when she was hit in the ear by a ball flung by the middle child from the adjoining room.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I mustn’t, I mustn’t” she thought to herself, “I mustn’t say…I wish…I wish…”

Gary Elbridge could visualize his wife now. He just hung up the phone after calling her to inform her that he would not be able to pick up the twins. He could hear the annoyance in her voice. When she got annoyed, her Scottish accent resurfaced just a bit, just enough to remind him that she wasn’t native to this country. But more than her expressive voice, Gary knew the true window to his wife’s emotions were her eyes.

Besides her mahogany hair, Mary’s eyes were the most incredible feature he had ever seen. Her eyes enchanted him with their complexity. Gary had never seen multi-toned brown eyes before. Her irises were light brown ringed in dark brown. Green flecks with something else—silver?—were embedded in them. Gary sighed as he imagined his wife’s face, the rings in her eyes darkening with her frustration, her brow furrowing, her lips tightening as she digested the information she was just given. That isn’t so bad. He knew that Hell hath no fury as when Mary Sue’s eyes were green.

“Guys, you need to be quiet back there! I’m not in the mood to visit the hospital today as a patient.”

Mary sighed. She did that a lot these days. “Kids,” she thought, “Whatever was I thinking!” She looked up from the road at the sky. She felt the way it looked; threatening and menacing. She hoped that she would make it home before it started to rain. Having to dry off four kids after the day she just had was not something that she was looking forward to.

It had been a busy day. Three case reviews in the morning, court in the afternoon, pick the kids from school (including the twins) then off to soccer practice. Through some re-ordering of time, she managed to get through her day without being late. Now, they were on their way home. From there, she had to prepare dinner (thank goodness she had the foresight to cook two dinners of chicken and two meatloaves last weekend), oversee baths and then put the kids to bed (thank goodness it was Friday and homeworks could be checked tomorrow morning.) After that, she needed to clean up after dinner, clean the guest bathroom and put fresh sheets on the guest bed for Mother Elbridge’s visit this weekend.

“Oh, I need to remember to call the florist.” She rubbed the center of her forehead with her fingers as she slowed down for a red light. The clouds were lowering, forcing the barometer to drop which allowed for her sinuses to expand. She definitely did not need the weather to help her with a headache when she thought about Mother Elbridge. Mother Elbridge was more of a handful than her children combined. No amount of pampering and catering to was ever enough. Her insistence of her name should have warned Mary of her mother-in-law’s insecurity issues. Everyone had to call her Mother Elbridge, Gary being the only exception. He was allowed to simply call her ‘Mother’. The septuagenarian had a permanent sour expression on her face. Even the children running and laughing to greet her could not elicit a smile from her lips. How her loving husband overcame his childhood puzzled Mary. However, he did it and she was grateful for it.

The kids were at it, again. Rachel was whining for ice cream now. Earlier, it was for nachos with cheese from the field house canteen. Bobby was ‘flying’ his airplane over his twin’s head, causing Rachel to whine about that, too. Tommy, who was exhausted from practice, was looking out the window, commenting on the passing scenery to himself. Maxine was updating her to the latest gossip from the fifth grade. If someone were to write down Maxine’s monologue, there would not be any punctuation marks. The girl spoke in a run-on sentence.

Mary sighed. She was very nearly at the end of her proverbial rope. No amount of study in becoming a family intervention professional could have granted her what she needed now. No insights from Piaget, Ericson, or Gillian could sway her. Not even the parenting gurus of Brazelton, Sears and the venerable Dr. Spock could help stop her from turning around in her seat and shouting,

As much as Mary hated the clichéd opening line to too many novels containing purple prose, she loved the actual event. The power of a furious thunderstorm always invigorated her constantly depleted stores of energy. There was magic in the air on nights like this and she loved to tap into it.

Tonight was particularly draining. Apart from the day she had, it was only a precursor for the evening. The children were just getting on each other’s nerves, except for Tommy, who fell asleep in his bath. Gary blithely read a book and went to bed early to be well rested for his mother’s visit tomorrow.

It was only Mary awake at—she looked at the clock—11:50 P.M., cleaning the guest bedroom as the storm raged outside. She had already placed the dusty rose colored sheets onto the bed. She made sure that she shook out the bedspread of rose and gold colored brocade to be sure that there was a minimum of dust on it. She would ask Rachel and Bobby to vacuum the room and Tommy to dust the end tables, headboard, and dresser in the morning before Mother Elbridge arrived. There was also a modern chair upholstered in the same brocade as the bedspread. Mother Elbridge was a stickler for matching patterns. The only input that Mary had in the room was the style of the furniture. All the pieces were of cherry wood, the back of the chair swept around to form the armrests, while the headboard made an upturned crescent on the wall. Needless to say, Mother Elbridge hated her selections.

The roiling clouds of the storm were no match for Mary’s seething emotions. She was feeling indignant, slighted, taken advantaged of, and frustrated. Not only did her family not help her this evening, the children tested her patience and her husband was oblivious. She longed for retribution, a return for all of her expenditures of time, effort, and energy. She tried to vent her fury in scrubbing the commode. The bowl gleamed under the lights, but Mary’s fury still raged.

It was a desperate measure but, right now, she felt that no one in this world understood her. Right now, she didn’t care the cost.

Mary rested her hands heavily on the edge of the sink. As the lightening flashed outside, she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“Goblin Prince, Goblin Prince, wherever you may be, I wish for you to appear right before me!”

******

Mary’s eyes were forced to the ceiling fixtures as they flickered and went dark. She looked to the electrical alarm clock that no longer had a digital display. “Great,” she thought, “Power’s out.” She felt very drained.

“So, this is where you’ve been all these years.” A cultured male voice said from the guest bedroom.

Mary whirled around and dropped to one knee. “My Lord.”

“Now, now, my dear. We can dispense with formalities between old friends.” The Goblin Prince walked toward the doorway and offered Mary his hand to help her rise. “How do you fare, Ma-“

“Do not use my name, my Lord, least you wish me to hold the same power over you.” Mary interrupted, her head shot up to face the young man, her face set as a warning. “I was careful in my summons. I request the same.”

He lifted an eyebrow in amusement. “Still as fiery as ever. As you wish, my dear. Why do you summon me?”

Mary lifted her head with confidence. She took in the man who stood before as her eyes acclimated to the darkened room that was sporadically illuminated by lightening. The last time she had seen him, they were both barely out of childhood. The person who stood before her now was a budding man. His angular face still held a remnant of the softness of boyhood. His wild blond hair had lengthened to be shoulder length. His physique was that of their people; lean and classically defined. His wardrobe was tailored finished showing that he was not of the peasantry. Yes, the young prince cut a fine figure for the king he was to become. “I seek retribution.”

“Retribution?” he said with disbelief. “From whom? Perhaps I should place a claim of retribution against you in my father’s name!” The young man stalked away from her. Mary felt dread as she walked towards the end table. She opened the drawer and withdrew three votive candles and a book of matches. She placed the candles on the end table and lit them. She moved to the other side of the bed and repeated the procedure. The Prince flopped down into the nearby chair and arranged himself as comfortably as he could. His head was expectantly cocked to the side as he waited for her reply.

“My Lord, what, of value, have I taken from your father, the King? I was just another pair of hands in the kitchen that were easily replaced. Your father, the Court, even the household staff had no recognition of me. I was of no consequence to anyone, save my mother. Besides, I was coming of age and dowerless. I was quickly becoming a burden to her. My disappearance probably eased her mind of that worry by replacing it with another, one that would have diminished as time went by.”

The Prince contemplated her answer as he stroked his chin in thought. “Valid points. You’re right, very few did notice your disappearance. Mostly the little ones and your mother, of course,” he said, off-handedly as he plucked a miniature statuette of a satyr playing a panpipe from the dresser top to examine it.

“Did you take notice, milord?”

He looked up; a lopsided smile overcame his face as he replaced the statuette. “I wondered what mischief you had gotten yourself into. I assumed that the outcome of it was far more interesting than the castle’s hearth.”

“You always did understand me best, Jay.” A shy smile came over Mary’s features.

Jareth waggled a finger at her. “Careful, least I do the same to you. Now,” he rearranged his lithe form so that he was sitting upright with his long arms draped on the armrests of the chair. His elegant hands and fingers were relaxed as they draped over the edges. “From whom do you seek retribution?”

All of a sudden, Mary felt as if she were in the presence of the King, in his Court, requesting a hearing of grievances. She sensed the shadows of the advisors and courtiers just outside the periphery of her vision. She bowed her head in supplication.

“If it pleases your Lordship, I request retribution from my kin and spouse. For many years, in local time, I have been expending my energy, my essence, my magic. I have asked for so little in return; just to be allowed to express my natural emotions and to experience all of the emotions that this species can offer. In the early years, the emotions that were generated by my actions were varied, as it were to be expected. As of late, my spouse and children have come to expect instead of appreciating my generosity of effort. Their ensuing emotions have been either apathetic or negative.”

“The roles I have portrayed for them are varied. I have been the Enchantress of Everything, the Hearth Elf, the Dryad of Drudgery, and the Grand Pixie of Plumbing.”

“Of course, I’ve also taken up the mantle of the Tooth Faery and the Shoelace Leprechaun. I have also portrayed the Nymph of Knicks, Scraps, Cuts and Bruises, the Sweet Dream Sprite, not to forget the Homework Harpy or the Chauffeur Spirit. Nor has by husband complained when I’ve been the Scintillating Succubus of his fantasies.”

“I am also the Lady of the Laundry, the Sorceress of Supper and the Creator of Child Friendly Culinary Creativity.”

“And who do you think pins up webs of streamers and balloons across the rooms to transform our home into a birthday ballroom overnight? Who do you think wraps every gift that comes in to or out of our home? Who transforms our Yule Tree into the gift laden extravaganza that is a Western style Christmas? One person: me.”

“I also cater to each birthday wish, holiday feast, and home cooked meal. After twelve years of marriage, I’ve yet to eat a home cooked meal prepared by another’s hand!”

“All this with barely an enthused ‘thank you’. Sometimes without any thanks at all. I am exhausted from living up to their expectations. There has been little to no love injections. For all this, my Lord, I seek retribution of acknowledgement and gratitude.”

Jareth sat forward in his seat, listening attentively. His head rested gently in his fingers of an arm that was propped up on his knee. The other hand was draped over the armrest. At the end of Mary’s recitation, he sat back and contemplated his judgment and sentence. “I could take them away; make them learn to appreciate all that you have done through labor.”

Mary’s eyes widened in fear. “Oh no, milord. That would be too generous of you. Although I know they would be well cared for, their fear and consternation would be on my head for a lifetime, if not longer.”

“Then the alternative to this is that you return with me and your family learns of your generosity when you are no longer there to provide it.” Jareth’s face formed a sardonic smile as he offered her this option.

“My Prince, I have a responsibility to my little ones that I will not shirk, no matter what the temptation. This is not a valid alternative.”

Jareth stood up and stretched. Having the regal bearing of his lineage, the appearance of his stretch looked nothing more than him standing to his full stature, and then allowing his shoulders to roll back as his well toned muscles settled into place. He leveled his gaze on Mary as he declared his final sentence on the matter. “So it shall be that beginning at the start of the new day, all mothers in this realm shall be honored and celebrated for their efforts for the duration of one day. This homage shall perpetuate into the future on the anniversary of tomorrow.”

Mary felt the short hairs on the back of her neck rise as the magick did Jareth’s bidding. Jareth’s lips formed a thin smile as he walked towards Mary and looked her in the eyes. “Does that satisfy your request?”

Mary lowered her eyes, “Yes, milord. It is more than sufficient.” She felt awed to be in the presence of such a power as he that can command such magick to shift the minds of so many people in the entire world.

“Now, there is the small matter of reciprocation.”

Mary dropped a curtsy, no small feat when you are dressed in capri slacks and a tee-shirt. “If I may beg your Lordship’s leave for just a few moments.” Jaeth tilted his head in acquiesce. Mary proceeded to walk around him to leave the room. She returned a few moments later with a small paper bag. She emptied it on to an end table for his inspection and approval.

“Trinkets? Ribbons? Sweets? My dear, this is almost as trite as milk and sweet breads left out for the faeries!” His distain was evident in both his voice and expression as he fingered through the mismatched gemstone earrings, gaily colored ribbons and brightly colored sucking candies.

“My Lord, I did only ask for your appearance--”

“And for consideration of your grievance! I change the ideas of all the humans in this realm and is this the best you have to offer in return?” He turned on his heel in disgust and sat down in the inadequate chair with a flourish, a scowl still adorning his face.

“My Lord, I have nothing else of value to offer you.” Mary hung her head in shame and fear. Tendrils of hair escaped her loose chignon. What would he ask of her?

“There is something you have to offer.” Jareth said silkily as he arose from the chair and approached Mary. He moderated his pace so that there was a pregnant pause before he stood before her, his footfalls silent on the carpet. Mary kept her head bowed. She tried desperately to control her trembling. “Return to be my paramour.”

Mary’s head shot up to look directly at Jareth, her shock apparent. “Your what! Surely you jest! What type of scandal would that cause? An ex-scullery maid in the Prince’s entourage!”

Jareth couldn’t control the smirk that curled his lip. “No one remembers you as a child, except perhaps your own mother. She might not even recognize you once you are dressed for the Court. Besides, this wouldn’t be the first scandal I’ve caused and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

Mary’s face grew solemn, “I still have my children to raise.”

Jareth’s smirk softened to a smile. He started to step backwards away from her as he faded through the Veil that separated their worlds, “We can afford to be patient, can’t we, Maurasoon?”

Mary contemplated the Prince’s words as she slowly blew out the candles and went to bed.

She would have to call the electrician in the morning.

******

Maurasoon merely breathed and unclenched her fists. She turned to the table and released the child who was seated there. If the girl refused to eat for forty-five minutes, forcing her any longer will not make her eat. She ushered all three children into the bathroom. While preparing the children for bed, she explained to the eldest the importance of being respectful of other’s property, reminding her of an earlier incident where the youngest sibling destroyed a beloved pillow from the eldest’s bed. After brushing and washing the second child, she sent him back to pick up the toys while preparing the youngest for bed. Afterwards, she tucked them all into bed, with kisses and wishes for sweet dreams and a better day on the morrow.

She never did say the words, then.

But, many, many years later, long after Maurasoon had her career, after she raised a family of her own, she longed for peace. She longed for short days under a reddened sky, with only one imposing edifice looming over a pastoral landscape. She yearned for the quietude of a tranquil domestic existence. She wanted to go home.

And on that day, after she heard of her last remaining child’s, her middle child, natural death at the age of 97, Mary Sue Elbridge dropped the glamour of the old woman, stood erect with her bright brown eyes blazing, and spoke with a voice that was strong and confident.

“Goblin Prince, Goblin Prince, wherever you may roam. I wish for you to come—Come and take me home!”

Fin.

I hope that you enjoyed. The next story in the series is That’s What Friends Are For. Thank you for the time it took to read. Please exert the effort to let me know what you think of it.