Snippet #2557894

Marten blinked. He studied Jareth's face wearing a bemused expression. The man looked honestly as perplexed as he did. His face fell, he turned his gaze to the floor feeling rather embarrassed. Of course it wasn't her.

"My apologies, sire. I was touring the fruit garden with your representative, and she reminded me of..." he shook his head and cleared his throat. A small part of him felt disappointed that the girl wasn't his. She possessed a remarkable warmth he thought only emanated from his kind. Perhaps she was just brighter spirited than the Abovegrounders he knew.

"Anyway, it was a ridiculous notion to even come up with."

He rubbed the back of his neck as he searched for his next words. Jareth was on the defensive, and Marten had no intentions of causing him trouble.

"With my brother and all, I never got the opportunity to thank you for saving my Lilian. I know my voice holds little sway among the underground, but I am willing to stand in your defense should the need arise."

He hovered a little, recovering slowly from his former shock.

"Has it been so long already, Jareth? I look at your young friend and I struggle to believe that my little girl could be that grown."

He felt suddenly heavy. He had tried to forget the fleeting years, forget the moments he never saw and never would see. He hoped his own daughter wore a face like Miss Jones, a twinkling, jovial expression that surely knew pain.