Day 3

Jareth walked down the stoned halls of the east wing with determined concentration. He needed to tell someone, and there was only one person he trusted to help him work out what to do without blabbing it all around the castle. Someone who wasn't his footman. Job was loyal and reliable, but absolutely useless when it came to discussing anything beyond co-ordinating trousers and vests.

Deep in the maelstrom of thought, the prince didn't realise the oncoming fellow pedestrian until it was too late.

Shaken from his thoughts by the bump, he looked up to see one of the fellow knights in the queen's guard. Alaric Fitzwilliams, well known for his prowess with double duel pistols and his boisterous sense of humour, looked uncharacteristically dishevelled and alarmed.

"Alaric!" Jareth remarked, "What are you doing in the castle? Don't you have training for the new guard unit today?"

"...yes, yes I do. Thanks for reminding me, Jar. I'm dreadfully late." the blonde boy tried to push past.

"Hold on," Jareth held out a hand to stop him, "Looking like that? You're shirt's only half tucked and your hair looks like it's been shocked with one of Karlifs 'electric' experiments."

Alaric quickly tucked in his shirt, "Thank you for letting me know Jareth. I really should pay better attention to the uniform codes."

Something didn't seem quite right. "...did you walk out of my sister's bedroom?"

After freezing like a rabbit caught in headlights, Alaric ran, quickly fleeing down the hall before any more questions could be asked.

Jareth watched him, scratching the back of his head. "That was strange," the prince remarked, "oh well." He turned and resumed his task. Reaching Catherine's door, he knocked three times.

"Back so soon?" she replied through the door, her voice strangely melodic. Her face fell as she opened the door. "Oh, brother. Hi. What are you doing here so early in the morning?"

Jareth pushed his way into her room, "We need to talk."

Catherine quickly ran ahead, promptly sitting on the red guard's jacket on her dresser's stool, as if to hide it. "Jareth, I can explain!"

Jareth looked up from his musings, "Huh?"

"I know it's against 'the rules' and all that, but he's just so-"

"Catherine, what are you talking about?"

The crown-princess paused, "...what are *you* talking about?"

"I haven't even told you anything yet." he pointed out.

"....right...of course...go on then. What were you going to say?"
"There's a girl in my bed," Jareth said confidently.
"....congratulations?" Catherine still seemed confused, "She can't be your first though, can she? I thought you had already bedded half the ladies at court."

"More like two thirds. But that's not what I meant."

"What do you mean then?"

"I mean, I found her last night in the forest when I went out hunting."

"Oh right. Mother was getting worried when you didn't get back in time for dinner."

"Yeah, we went deeper than we usually go. But anyway, I found her being attacked by a boar. She was hurt so I brought her back to the castle."
"And she slept in your bed?"

"Well, I didn't want to wake up Ms Taffey and have her make up one of the spare rooms. It was well past midnight when we got back."

"How considerate of you..." Catherine replied reluctantly.

"But now I'm not sure what to do. Mother's never been fond of unexpected house guests. And I'm aware of what the whole situation may look like to an outsider."

"Like you've picked up some waif from the forest and taken her as your new mistress?"

"Exactly. And with the impending war council, I promised Father I'd keep a clean reputation, or else he won't allow me to sit in to the meeting."

"So....you want me to cover for you and hide your whore here?"

"I haven't slept with her! And yes...or at least help me work out what to do with her. If she's some sort of forest urchin or gypsy, I'm not sure how to get in touch with her...people."

"Have you tried asking her?"

"She's not awake yet, and last night she was too delirious to say anything sensical. Just mumbled in some sort of foreign language."

"Are you sure she can even speak Nylan?"

"I'm not sure. But I figured with your knowledge of languages..."

Catherine sighed, "Well done Jareth. Nothing's ever simple with you, is it?"

"Of course not. Simple is boring."

"But much less stressful," Catherine stood up, "Come on then. Let's go meet your waif."

"You're going like that? In your underthings?"

Catherine glanced down at the thin sleeping dress she'd hastily thrown on minutes before, "...give me a few moments to dress then."

Jareth nodded, turning to walk back out the door, before pausing, "Oh, by the way, did you happen to see Alaric this morning?"
Catherine froze, "...pardon?"

"I saw him leaving here. I thought maybe you had a meeting with him or something."

"...yes...a meeting..."
"Since he's captain of your new guard unit, and all,"

Catherine breathed a sigh of relief, "Yes, that's exactly what we were doing. Discussing guard matters."

"Oh, that would explain it then," Jareth shrugged acceptingly.

Catherine studied her younger brother with scrutiny, "You really don't question much, do you brother?"

He looked at her curiously, "Why? Should I be?"

The crown-princess found herself torn. Her brother's obliviousness in scandalous matters put her in an interesting position. He wasn't accusing her of anything, in fact, he didn't seem aware that anything suspicious was happening at all. If she so chose, he would simply walk out of there, and her secret could be safe. But the burden of keeping such a huge secret all to herself was becoming too much. She needed to confide in someone, or else she felt she would explode, most likely publicly, in front of the whole court and foreign ambassadors who would go back with the impression that the royal house of Nyla was of questionable sanity as well as morals.

"Jareth, about Alaric..."

"Yes, Alaric. I still don't see why he gets to be in your personal guard, but I don't."

"He's in my personal guard because I chose him."

"But why? What’s he got that I haven't? We all know I'm the best swordsman in the-"
"Jareth will you just listen for once in your life?!"

"...huh?"

"I chose Alaric because...well...-"
"What? Is it because he looks better in the red jackets than me?"

Catherine sighed, "No. it's because we're...courting. Of sorts."
"...courting?"
"Well obviously not officially..."
"So Mother doesn't know?"
"Of course not! She'd flip if she knew I was taking someone like him!"
"Because he's the son of butcher?"

"He's the illegitimate son of Lord Byron Wilmont and a flower merchant."

"Oh right. Well, still. I suppose mother wouldn't be happy with that."
"Of course she wouldn't. She's been trying to set me up with Lord Astley's son for months. I know Alaric isn't exactly what she'd have in mind," Catherine gushed, relieved she finally had someone to express all this to, "Father only let him join the Guard because he proved himself at that open tournament five years ago."

"Oh yeah, i remember that. He beat men twice his age."

The princess smiled, "He's so talented."

It was all starting to fall into place for Jareth, "So wait a minute, when he was leaving here this morning, was that because he was- because you-"

"Yes, he made his way up here late last night. At my request. And he shared my bed."

Jareth could hardly believe all these new revelations about his eldest sister, "So you bed him?"

"Yes."

"...but you're not supposed-"
"I know. Tradition says I'm supposed to wait for my wedding night, to ensure the paternity of the heir, but Mother and Father aren't stepping down any time soon, and I'm not going to be queen for years, and...Alaric was just so..." she glanced at her brother ashamedly, "I had a moment of weakness, brother. I couldn't resist."

Jareth ran a hand through his hair, leaning back to think, "Well, it's not so bad. One indiscretion is hardly that scandalous. There are ways we have of fooling your future husband into thinking you're a maid. Getting him blind drunk for starters-"
"There's been more than one 'indiscretion' Jareth, and that's not the point!"
"Oh?"

"I don't think I *want* to marry anyone else. My heart lies with Alaric."

"...After one night?"
"Don’t be foolish. We've been secretly courting for months now."

"...really? Months?"

Catherine nodded.
"How did I not realise this?"
"You don't realise many things, Jareth."

"...still. You really want to marry Alaric?"

Catherine nodded, "I can't imagine ruling with anyone else."

"But he's not of pure blood. Mother would never allow it." he reminded her.

Catherine sighed, "I know."
"And you're the crown-princess. You have to marry someone she approves of."
"I know."
"So...what are you doing to do?"
"I don't know..."
"...couldn't you just marry Lord Byron's son and keep Alaric as a mistress...or the male equivalent of a mistress? It's not that unheard of. And seeing as you've kept it secret all this time-"

"I don't want to live a lie, Jareth."
"I don't see what else you can do. You're going to be queen one day, Catherine. You can't afford to marry for love. You've got to marry who's best for the kingdom."

She sighed heavily, "I know...I hate this."

Jareth pat her hand sympathetically, "I know...just another reason why I'm glad you're set to rule and not me."

Catherine glared, "Thanks."

Jareth smiled unshakably, "Don't worry, it'll work out in the end."
"Right, sure it will," she replied sceptically, "and in the mean time?"

Jareth shrugged, "I suppose you could just continue sneaking around with Alaric. If it makes you happy."

Catherine smiled, "Is that what all those diplomat lessons have taught you, brother?"

"Nope," Jareth replied, "But you happiness means more to me than diplomacy."

Catherine lent over and hugged her brother, "Thanks Jareth."

"I promise to keep your secret."

"You really are the best."

"Just be careful, ok? If this gets out, it could be disastrous."

Catherine nodded, "I know. It won't."

Jareth pulled away, "Ok, now that we've sorted that, time for you to help me with my problem."

Catherine smiled, pulling an outer garment over her under-dress, "Lead me to the forest girl."