A Stitch in Time

Title: A Stitch in Time
Author: Tazzy (Tazzy1@columbus.rr.com)
Rating: PG
Pairing: C/S friendship
Summary: Young Jareth’s meeting on Olympus with an equally young Cupid and Strife.
Disclaimer: Still don't own 'em. I can only claim the plot.
Author’s Notes: For this story, I’m going under the assumption that Cupid’s real name is Eros and Strife’s name is Erin. They’re about two hundred at this time and this is part of a bigger story that I’m playing around with. Also, this is told from Jareth’s point of view while if I actually finish the larger story, it will be from someone else’s.
***
It had been the work of seconds to slip away when Asclepeus had his back turned, and that was all Jareth had required to sneak away from the indignation that the God of Healing passed off as his bed side manner. A breeze reminded Jareth of the short toga he had been dressed in, but a small flex of his powers and he was once more clad in the tight pants, loose blouse and knee high boots he favored. With a satisfied smirk, Jareth wandered off through the temples to find a place to be by himself without nosey gods or pushy goddesses around.

Humming a song to himself, Jareth didn’t bother to watch where he was walking, allowing his feet to take him where they may when the hard feel of cobblestones changed to the soft caress of grass. Glancing around, he found himself standing at the edge of what looked like a large meadow with a giant tree growing in the center and he laughed out loud. This was more like it!

In a few brief minutes, he had crossed the meadow to settle himself on a low branch in the tree, nicely arranged so that the leaves shielded him from the most serious of prying eyes, and summoned some of his crystals, rolling them in his hands as he relaxed for the first time since he woke up in Asclepeus’ temple.

It had only been a small scratch that normally wouldn’t have bothered him in the least bit, but because Jareth had accidentally cut himself on cold iron, one of the most dangerous substances on the mortal plane for a residence of the Underground, his parents had rushed him to the nearest healer, which happened to be Asclepeus. Unfortunately for Jareth, he had been forced to relinquish what little freedom he had gained by being away from the Labyrinth, the Goblin City, and his duties as heir to both. He was two hundred for Nature’s sake! And looked like he was twenty in mortal years. He was hardly a child following behind his mother’s skirts.

“Don’t use your powers, you’re not healed enough,” Jareth mimicked Asclepeus’ tone in a sarcastic manner as the crystals flashed and flickered in his hand. “Get some sleep, you need to build your strength up. Drink this foul tasting potion that was made from sheep’s dung.”

He snorted in disgust and held up his one hand, gazing critically at the red slash that still marred the pale skin. It was healing nicely and wouldn’t even leave a scar as a reminder of this little misadventure. “I’m a fae lord, not a pesky mortal or godling with more sparkle than brains. Clean the cold iron infection out, bandage the cut and spend some time with Nature to heal.”

Casually and easily, he rolled the crystal balls from his one hand to the other without dropping one and smiled as he gazed into their flashing surfaces. The tree’s leaves rustled in a light breeze, a comforting sound to the young lord as he relaxed against the smooth trunk, drinking in the comfort that only came from being surrounded by Nature. Every fae was connected to Nature and drew their strength from Her when their own was waning, and each respected Her as if She was their own Mother.

“Hey! How’d ya sneak away from Asclepeus?” The voice intruded on Jareth’s thoughts, and he looked down to find two young godlings staring up at him in confusion and curiosity. The one was a skinny god covered in a strange black leather outfit with unkept black hair and blue eyes that danced with mischief while his companion was blond with snow white wings, brown leather pants and tan skin that was starting to fill out with muscles. Both looked much the same age Jareth himself looked in mortal years.

“It really wasn’t that difficult,” replied Jareth, lightly jumping to the ground, the crystals in his hand never ceasing their movement. “I’ve had more difficulty getting out of the oubliettes that encircle the center of the Labyrinth.”

He smirked as he brought the spinning crystals up to his face and gently blew on them, sending them floating through the air despite the fact that they looked too solid and heavy to do so. He raised a curious brow at their startled looks. “Besides, do you really think that anyone could keep the Lord of Dreams and Illusions if he did not want to be kept?”

The skinny godling snickered. “Funny, Asclepeus seemed ta be able ta keep ya where he wanted ya yesterday when we checked on ya,” he drawled, folding his arms across his chest.

Jareth waved the comment off. “So are you two here to drag me back to that cramped room by my hair or was there another reason for you to seek me out?”

“I’m gonna have ta remember that one for later,” grinned the skinny godling as he rubbed his hands together. “That’ll drive parents *crazy* in the years ta come!”

“Erin,” warned the blond godling, his wings flexing slightly with his irritation before he shook his head and held out his hand. “We didn’t get a chance to properly introduce ourselves before. I’m Eros, God of Love, but everyone calls me Cupid.”

“Jareth of the Labyrinth, Lord of Dreams and Illusions,” replied the fae lord, shaking Eros’ hand, before turning his mismatched gaze on the other godling who grinned and held out a pale hand. “Erin, God of Mischief. Everyone calls me Strife, though.”

Jareth shook Erin’s hand before sinking down onto the grass and stretching his legs out before him, his back once more to the tree and crystal balls appearing once more in his hand. “Please have a seat and join me out here, where the air is more convivial and there is no one to depend on for leniency.”

Erin flopped on the grass, propping his head up on his fists even as he watched the crystals flicker in the sunlight. “Pop a squat, Cuz,” he invited without looking away from the crystals. Eros sighed and carefully sat down, spreading his wings slightly so as not to bend the feathers.

“You two are cousins?” Jareth inquired, cocking his head slightly in a bird-like manner. There was absolutely no family resemblance between the two of them, and he found it hard to believe that they could be even remotely related. Yet he had a feeling that they were more like two sides of the same coin than anything else.

“Yeah, his mom and my dad are twins,” Eros stated with a casual shrug, his eyes on the flickering crystals. “Is that how your powers are manifested?”

The question took Jareth by surprise and he looked up at Eros with a startled expression who grinned in response. “My mom, Aphrodite, told me that the Fae of the Underground have powers different than ours and that they manifest in different ways.”

“Your mother is quite perceptive,” remarked Jareth with a slight dip of his head, acknowledging Aphrodite’s wisdom. “Yes, crystals are how my powers are manifested. Since I am the Lord of Dreams and Illusions, it is the logical form for them to take.”

Suddenly, an angry voice drifted across the meadow and Jareth bit back a curse as he rose to his feet. Apparently, Asclepeus had come to look for his errant patient, and there was no way Jareth was going to return to that cramped room just to pacify Asclepeus. Before the God of Healing reached the meadow, Jareth had transformed into an owl and flew up into the branches of the tree, hiding behind the thick green leaves. In this form, his magic was dampened and harder to detect.

He only hoped that Eros and Erin didn’t give him away.

His golden eyes fell to the base of the tree where they widened slightly at the sight there. Erin and Eros were groping and gyrating against each other as if they were lovers and had decided for a tryst under the tree. Yet when they had been talking with him, he had not seen this kind of affection from them.

“Strife. Cupid.” Asclepeus called as he practically marched across the grass and they broke apart to stare at him. “Have you seen the Fae lad that was brought up the other day? He’s slipped away from my temple and hasn’t finished healing yet.”

Jareth ruffled his feathers in irritation. The Fae lad? Didn’t Asclepeus know the name of his own patient? And he was hardly a lad, being a mature two hundred.

Erin shook his head. “Nah, we haven’t seen ‘em recently,” he replied, easily lying or twisting the truth slightly. Jareth cocked his head, studying Erin curiously. Looking at that sentence one way, Erin was telling the truth because they hadn’t seen Jareth, the Fae Lord for the past few minutes because he had taken his owl form and was currently hiding in the tree.

The God of Healing sighed in frustration as he stared at the godlings. “And how do I know that you didn’t muck with things to pull him out of my care and prematurely ending his healing?”

The question was more one of frustration but Erin just grinned mischievously as he laid back on the grass, his ankles crossed and his hands folded beneath his head, appearing for all the world as if nothing could touch him.

“Sure I did, just like I arrange everythin’ fer Zeus ta step out on Hera,” drawled the raven haired godling in a sarcastic tone. He snorted and sat up to lean back on his elbow to gaze at Asclepeus. “I may be a minor god up here, Asclepeus, but even I know when not to meddle in the affairs of others.”

“Asclepeus, have you thought that perhaps Jareth didn’t want to be confined while he healed?” inquired Eros, his wings flexing against his back as he talked. “Mom and Dad Heph both say that the dwellers of the Underground are as different from us as the birds are from the deer.” He shrugged as if it was the most natural explanation in the world.

Jareth was amazed at the lengths that the two godlings were going to protect him from Asclepeus. Never before had someone defended him with no thought of gain for themselves, and from what he could tell, there was nothing that Jareth could offer the two godlings that they couldn’t create themselves. So why were they protecting him?

The older god sighed and glanced around as if expecting Jareth to suddenly pop out of thin air. “If you see him, let him know that I’m looking for him and I need to check on him. He really shouldn’t be out and about so soon. There’s no telling how that iron affected him or his powers.” He sighed again and twitched his tunic slightly, straightening it again. “I really don’t want to explain to Lady Merriah and Lord Wilneth that I lost their son as soon as my back was turned.”

Clacking his beak in irritation, Jareth realized that his instincts to leave Asclepeus were right. The God of Healing didn’t care about him, only impressing his parents and not getting on their bad side. Typical really, when it came to dealing with the Rulers of the Labyrinth. Too good for the Dark Court and too crafty for the Light Court. Trusted by neither and feared by both because of the shadow path they walked. Even when they brought the unwanted mortal children to the Underground to keep the bloodlines fresh, none could stand to be in their company for longer than necessary.

A lovely face swam in his mind’s eye. Hair as pale as moonbeams, eyes of silver and white skin. The Lady Titania of the Light Court was one who always treated him and his family as friends and didn’t seem like she couldn’t wait to get out of their presence as soon as she could make a polite excuse. In fact, the Lady Titania often treated him as Eros and Erin treated him, with kindness and respect, not one wanting something that he would not give.

Flexing his powers, he appeared behind Asclepeus in his human form, crystal balls flickering and flashing in his hands. “As you can see, I am perfectly fine and no longer need your assistance,” he remarked, his voice the calm and cool tone of a Fae Lord before a sneer twisted his lips even as Asclepeus turned to stare at him in surprise. “So you need not fear my parents’ wrath, because I no longer require your assistance.”

He held up the hand that had been carelessly cut on cold iron, the red wound having faded with the use of his magic and Nature’s gentle embrace. “As Eros said, the Fae are as different from Olympians as the birds are from the deer. We do not need smelly potions or continuous bed rest to regain strength robbed from us by cold iron.”

With a flick of his wrist, Jareth banished the crystals back into the magic from which they had been formed as he turned to face Asclepeus fully. “Now, if you don’t mind, I was enjoying myself for the first time since I had been dragged up here and I would prefer to return to my activities without worrying about someone who only fears for my safety due to the threat of Lady Merriah and Lord Wilneth hanging over his head.”

Brushing past the red faced god, he resumed his earlier sprawl at the base of the tree and summoned a crystal to give his hands something to do. Warm comfort seeped through his back from the smooth bark of the tree, reminding him of his mother’s hugs when he was younger. Full of comfort, love and caring as she kissed her child’s scrapes and bruises to make them better.

“What is that?” The question was one of curiosity tempered with a slight wariness and Jareth looked up to find Asclepeus staring at the crystal flashing between his hands.

“This?” inquired Jareth, stopping the crystal and holding it up as he rose to his feet. A corner of his mouth rose in an arrogant smirk, transforming him once more into the Fae Lord of Dreams and Illusions as the crystal rolled across the back of his hands. “It’s a crystal. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Jareth’s voice took on a soft, almost hypnotic tone as he talked and he noticed with delight that Asclepeus’ eyes were caught by the flashing and shimmering crystal. “However, if you hold it one way, it will show you your dreams...”

With a snap of his fingers, he dismissed the crystal with a flash of glitter. “And here I am distracting you from your work. I’m sure you have more important things to do than stand around and talk to someone who no longer requires your services.”

Jareth watched with amusement as Asclepeus shook his head, rubbing at his eyes in a distracted way. “Yes, you’re right. I have things I need to do,” muttered the God of Healing in an absent voice as he turned and shuffled back to his temple.

It was all Jareth could do not to burst out laughing. A simple bit of distraction and he was able to slip his suggestion into the distracted god’s mind, much the same way he slipped changelings into empty cradles once the mortal child was removed. Perhaps his time on Olympus would be interesting after all...

The End.