(some of you might remember this from my work titled Reminiscence - indeed I have mixed some of my old characters with new ones, and connected their stories..)
~Jareth
*
He stood in the forest, all alone and just enjoying the moment. No one was close, no one disturbing the silence and peace of the nature around him. He could see every tree: each transparent and white as snow, with thin veins of dark purple running through its core, visible just now and then. The leaves were also purple, but as they fell down to the ground they switched through tens of colours, turning instantly into ashes as they touched the land.
Butterflies tiny as grains of dust raised from the ashes. Their wings and bodies grew as they flow back up into the trees,changing slowly to birds as he watched them. The birds sat on the branches and sang, so quietly they not for a moment disturbed the symphony of the blowing wind.
He closed his eyes, letting himself fly away with the notes. He inhaled a deep breath, smelling both sweet flowers and bitter fruit, in shape of a tear and hanging from a branch too high for him to reach. Feeling that overwhelmed him is both light and heavy, both happy and sad, both dark and illuminating.
"Lord Alistair, um.. sir?"
He opened his eyes, observing for a moment as the forest around him lost the magic and again appeared to be no more than just a forest. Then he answered, without looking at the man standing behind him.
"If my father wants something from me, tell him I'm busy."
"It's time for your medicine, my lord", replied the other man - much older, dressed in a gray suit and with hair in colour of dust tied neatly in a small ponytail. He was used to his master's reaction - Jareth knew, because he remembered the butler being in the family since forever. "You know you have to take it."
I know the way I see the world without it is worth every minute lost, he thought to himself, yet accepted the glass from the butler's gloved hand. It was almost ridiculous, to act like that - as if s family was stuck in a century which passed, holding to the titles and customs the rest of the world had already. Jareth sighed slightly, looking down at the glass in his hand. Mixed with lemon juice, as always, he knew that the drug had a taste he disliked.
He slowly brought it to his mouth and than dropped it on the ground, too unexpectedly for the butler to make a move. The glass crashed, juice spilling around his feet. The young lord sighed, though something flashed in his eyes, making them seem lighter blue than they were for a moment - he knew what was going to happen, and he knew it would be too much fun to miss.
"It must be the illness that made me clumsy", he said, carefully observing his butler's face, trying not to smirk as it turned almost as pale as his own.
"I didn't know", the butler whispered, and Jareth shook his head as if in disapproval.
"Now, I'm sure mother must have told you", he replied, turning his back to him and hiding a small, somewhat evil smile. "I do for sure know she'll be mad as she finds out you weren't listening." He played with his hair, black as night and longer than he liked it being, as he continued in the same manner. "Nothing will happen if I don't take it once, and it will spare you the trouble with your lady. I do believe you do not want to make my mother angry or worried, yes?"
"Most certainly, my lord", said the butler, so loyally and honestly that Jareth almost felt sorry for him. He knew what it was like in the past, when some simply had no choice but pursue the best possible careers - but why would someone, in the world of today, decide to serve an eccentric family of history lovers, was above what Jareth could understand.
The butler coughed silently, attracting his attention once more. "But.. are you sure?"
He turned back, stretching his lips into a smile.
"More than sure. As I'm concerned, the thing is solved."
He watched as the butler took his leave, mostly lost in his thoughts. Even after all the years of the same treatment, he found it wrong. Even after everything the doctors said, even after his parents took him to the modern hospitals, out of their little safe haven they created in their palace, Jareth didn't want to accept what they said. What they all called hallucinations, and were trying to destroy by medicine and various therapies he found pointless, he believed to be glimpses into the world far better than the one he was living in. A world filled with magic and adventures, as well as emotions he knew of only from books, so beautiful and enchanting that mere mortals were forbidden to enter it. Jareth remembered that world, somewhere deep inside though he could never quite place the memory - it was a feeling a grown man would have, as he hears a song his mother once sang to him over his crib.
*
His skin was cold as ice, and his hair sticked out around his head like a bush, as he finally returned to the mansion. Outside, it was still colder than he thought, and he already knew his parents won't be happy about him wandering around. He stood, leaning against a wall before he'd enter the dining room, waiting for a moment for headache to pass - and then instead walked over to the bathroom, his steps echoing in the empty hallway. He had to warm himself up - or at least look warmed up enough - otherwise, he was fairly sure, he'd end up locked in his room regardless of how old he already was.
Water was hot, tiny drops seemed to be burning his skin, but he stayed in the bath for almost half an hour, leaning his forehead against the cold wall, clenching his fists, calming his breathing. He knew his family and their butler were right; he wasn't well, not even close to it, and he was getting worse. But to take those meds..
"I will not do that," he muttered to himself. "I will not forget."
With a sigh, he got out and stood before the mirror, glaring at himself. Well, I look dead already. The bath didn't really help - he was still pale, still looking ill, still with dark circles around his eyes. He shook his head, and then changed to his usually black clothes and rushed down the stairs to the dining room, his hair still wet.
His mother looked up as he came in - his father and brother didn't even give him a glance, and Claudia smiled a bit. He stayed serious, sitting in his seat, left to his father, with mother sitting and watching him from the other side. All of the Alistair's shared wavy, black hair and dark eyes, his mother and brother green and his father and himself blue, and Claudia's straight red strands and big light eyes made her stick out so much, though it's been years since she'd joined the family. Jareth licked his lips, looking at her as she picked on her food. He missed her brother, almost as much as he missed his sister, but he knew he couldn't talk about it - as far as everyone was concerned, Jareth never had a sister, and Claudia's brother left to pursue some dreams of his.
He looked away from the girl, frowning a bit at his mother's expression. He was sure she already heard of what had happened in the garden, regardless of the deal he made with the butler, and he was fairly sure she didn't care to keep it a secret.
"I dreamt of her again", he said, breaking the silence before she got the chance to do the same. His mother sighed, and he continued. "Of my sister."
"You don't have a sister", his brother said, turning silent as Jareth shot him a warning glance. Their mother pushed her plate from her.
"Have you taken your meds?"
"Of course", he cut.
Of course not. He hasn't taken the meds ever since the first dream. It was the only thing still connecting him with his sister - and he promised that he'd never let go of it, both to himself and to the memory of her.
He looked down at his hands, lying on the table next to the untouched dinner: his pale skin, thin as paper, always cold and with visible blue veins under it. I wonder if she's ill too. I hope she isn't, wherever she was. He suddenly got up.
"Excuse me," he muttered, "I…"
"Sit!" His father's voice was a hiss. "You are the heir of the house Alistair, for once act like one."
"Heir to the house," he repeated, smirking. "You are living in the past."
"You will not talk to your father like that." Jareth's mother's voice was colder than usual, but he could tell she was also worried. Worried about you, he told himself. Stop behaving like that, they will never trust you anyway.
"I'm sorry," he said, smiling a bit to both. "You're right, I don't feel particularly well. I would like to get some rest."
He waited for his father to nod before he left the room, followed by both younger siblings as the mother told them to leave the parents alone.
They're stupid to bother trying to keep me safe, he couldn't help thinking as he left his brother and Claudia and headed to his room. I'll probably be dead before any of them anyway.
***
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