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darklesmylove · 5 years

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wicked games ch. 2 | jurdan

check it out on ao3 as well!

Cardan's P.O.V

Cardan could not have been more drunk, and he was dimly aware of that fact. His pupils were blown wide, laughter bubbling from his lips as he staggered into his room, leaning heavily against Locke and Nicasia.

"Cardan, walk straight."

He dimly registered the command, though he paid it no mind. In fact, he was entirely too occupied with thinking of Jude to do much of anything else. A heavy stumble landed him straight into a face full of the soft sheets of his bed. He let out an exhale of satisfaction, clutching the fabric into his chest as though it were the curve of her mortal body. "Jude," he murmured, a gentle hum of delight.

A haughty scoff made his heavy eyelids flutter open to see Nicasia glaring at him while Locke looked on in relative disinterest. "Why are you still obsessing over that stupid mortal?" she seethed, folding her arms tightly over her chest, "She killed your brother and is in exile for fuck's sake, get over her already!" Anger sparked in his chest, burning hotter with the addition of the alcohol running through his veins. "Get out, you're the stupid one," he snapped, his normally sharp tongue unable to come up with a better reply what with the wine weighing it down with sweet, cloying liquor. She visibly bristled, her piercing eyes glittering with something akin to hatred before she promptly swept out of his rooms in a twirl of sapphire blue silk.

Locke remained, his arms loosely folded over his chest as he regarded the High King in a contemptuous manner that most would consider to be borderline treason. "What is your fascination with her?" Locke finally questioned, the inquiry laced with a suspicious amount of curiosity. Cardan swiped his tongue over his lower lip, lapping up the last bit of gold staining it. A soft moan of content escaped his slightly parted mouth, his eyes fluttering closed as the room tilted around him. He hugged the soft press of sheets even closer. "Cardan?" Locke pressed, his steps nearing the side of the bed. In a haze of drunken stupor and delight, he let the words slip.

"I'm in love with her."

Locke's startled exhale was almost imperceptible, yet still surprising considering he didn't often get shocked.

He didn't say another word, merely walking out and leaving the High King alone in his chamber to continue to drunkenly whisper into the sheets so lovingly it was as if the fabric was actually Jude herself, the mortal women he had long ago realized he was hopelessly, irretrievably in love with.

***

Jude's P.O.V

"Jude I really think you need to start considering getting a job," Vivi spoke with a touch of concern, her words slightly distorted due to the mouthful of cereal she was chewing. I didn't bother to look up from my spot on the couch, watching the game show flashing on the television set with what one looking on would probably describe as a concerningly dazed look on my lips. "Hello?" Vivi repeated insistently, a tinge of irritation edging the word. I gradually shifted my attention, looking over at my older sister with the interest of someone pulled away from their last meal. "What, Vivi," I sighed, the ache in my chest thrumming back into existence at the sight of her cat eyes.

Any reminder of Faerie was almost excruciating, taking my breath away as if someone had slammed a fist straight into my gut.

"I really think you should get a job, it'll help you," Vivi reiterated with a slight pitying tilt of her head. I clenched my jaw, folding my arms over my chest with a clear air of defiance. "Help me what?"

"If you really want me to say then I will. You need help to get over what Cardan did to you. Come on Jude, you know I'm right."

Anger grew thick in my mouth. "Don't fucking say his name to me," I hissed in return, my fingers viciously digging into the leather cushions of the worn, weathered couch. Every emotion I had felt as I was dragged away by guards in front of a wickedly pleased audience whilst staring into his coal black eyes came flooding back in a staggering wave. The thought of his eyes sent a pang of infuriating longing throughout my body.

I thought I might have loved those eyes once.

Now I wanted nothing more than to pin him to the ground and gouge those eyes out for revenge.

"I'm perfectly content to live out the rest of my days on this couch," I clenched my teeth, returning my gaze to the television. With that, I ignored every subsequent word out of Vivi's mouth, stubbornly narrowing my eyes at the screen in front of me. I didn't move for what felt like an eternity, even after Vivi was long gone I didn't shift a single muscle until a full hour passed after the front door had closed.

Then the tears came.

Tears of anger, betrayal, heartbreak, it was all a tangled mess of emotions at this point that not even I myself could discern. I craved his touch, his voice, his snarky remarks and whispered vulnerabilities and drunken ramblings. I hated that I craved it, so much so that it was dizzying. The tears continued to spill from my eyes and stream down my cheeks as I threw my body off the couch, making for the kitchen with furious, wild steps.

"I'm going to destroy him," I sobbed to no one in particular in something like consolation, snatching a knife from its designated drawer and clenching the grooved handle tightly in my calloused palm. My feet moved into a battle stance as naturally as breathing, jerking the knife in repeated patterns of sword maneuvers just as I had done time and time again back in Faerie.

Except now, standing on the scuffed linoleum floor and wielding nothing but a dull steak knife, I was imagining the crystal clear image of the High King's face as I stabbed the air with increasing ferocity.

I would get my revenge, one way or another, it was only a matter of time.

***

Cardan's P.O.V

Cardan was in the depths of a council meeting when someone whispered the words in his ear, a rumor that had been skittering through the palace walls with increasing frequency.

His slender fingers tightened around the armrests of his throne, his heart stuttering, almost skipping a beat entirely.

Immediately, he knew who had to be behind it.

"Excuse me," he stiffly spoke as he stood up with his newfound air of authority that easily silenced the room, interrupting whoever had been in the middle of speaking.

Quite frankly he didn't care about whoever he had cut off, he was seeing too much red to even discern the individual anyways.

The room fell silent as they watched him stalk out, hands clenched and tail flicking back and forth in agitation.

A rare event when the High King lost his temper, making it that much more terrifying when it happened.

It didn't take long for him to find who he was looking for, one of the few people he had thought he could call a friend.

"Locke!" he snarled, making him turn, tawny eyes widening a split second before Cardan slammed him against the cold stone wall, pinning him there with a painfully placed elbow against his throat. The High King looked at him with the heat of murder, coal black eyes blazing with fire, his dazzlingly white teeth bared. "You dare speak of her," he spat, the overwhelming rush of anger drowning out any other rational thought.

The shock quickly dissipated from Locke's features, an exaggeratedly innocent look replacing it. "What is the matter my good friend? I was merely speculating on the reasoning behind her exile." Locke's surely satisfied tone was almost enough to destroy the last scrap of restraint Cardan had left. "Yes, rumoring that your High King impregnanted his former seneschal, what a harmless speculation," Cardan seethed, his sharp jawline even deadlier with clenched tension. Locke shrugged as much as he was able to under Cardan's suffocating grip, tilting his head slightly in provocation, "I must admit it was a ridiculous speculation considering you hate her, right? My High King?" A mocking agreeability stained his silky words, making Cardan jerk backwards in a movement dangerously close to a flinch.

An affirmation desperately tried to roll off his tongue, but as much as he tried, he couldn't get the word out. Instead, he settled for a curt nod.

There was a moment of stillness, the two Faerie men staring at each other in something like a silent challenge. Finally, Cardan stepped away from him, his eyes as black as blotches of spilled ink against parchment. "Keep your gossiping to a minimum in the future," he ordered in a dangerously soft tone, pausing for another long moment before turning on his heels and striding back down the hallway, chest aching with the revelation that maybe the person he had just walked away from was not anything close to his friend.

***

Cardan's P.O.V

He had set his room on fire again.

This time he was alone, he had tipped a precariously balanced candle over and watched in intoxicated fascination as his curtains quickly became swallowed by hot, flickering flames. He felt no fear as he watched them burn, the heat washing over his skin a welcome caress.

He felt nothing.

And yet, despite the numb, hollow feeling slowly carving out his chest, when the Bomb rushed in to find his room destroyed and up in flames, he still had managed to dissolve into sobs, his face pressed against the soft comfort of his pillow. A pillow that he had saved and held close, the one that Jude had slept on the night he had asked her to be his wife.

"Cardan, wh-what is going on?" the Bomb panicked, immediately rushing to the corner to stomp out the flames with the thick rubber sole of her boot. He didn't answer, he couldn't answer, not with the realization that he had sent away the only person that had ever cared for him. The only person that might have even loved him someday.

The Bomb put out the last of the flames with an accompanied scowl of something between anger and worry. "Jude is not here to babysit anymore, Cardan, seriously, what the hell was this, you could have gotten seriously hurt!" she snapped, instantly regretting her harsh language when he flinched in response. He still couldn't trust himself to speak, instead reaching for the liquor bottle at his side and pressing the cool rim to his lips. The burn was a welcome distraction, he tilted his head back, making his golden crown tip slightly askew. "Nothing could hurt as bad as this," he spoke in something dangerously close to a whimper. His eyes closed, long dark lashes and smudged black charcoal only accentuating the glistening trails of dried tears on his pale cheeks.

The Bomb found herself, quite simply, speechless.

"I miss her," Cardan continued softly, his throat constricting painfully around the words, "I miss her so much it hurts, and as we speak she's in exile most certainly coming up with the best way to string me up by my stupid guts. And the worst part of it all is that I'd let her do it. I'd let her do whatever she wanted to me."

Another long, lingering drink. It tasted as fresh as chilled water on his tongue, a sure sign that he now was completely and utterly wasted out of his mind.

His tail curled against his leg, twitching back and forth with dull agitation.

"Cardan, I'm sorry to say but you need to let go of her," the Bomb spoke gently, picking her words as cautiously as she could and carefully avoiding mention of Jude's name, "She's exiled, so unless you plan on lifting that decree you can't be with her. And you know as well as I that she probably wouldn't want to be with you regardless."

The words stung.

He absently twisted one of the heavy silver rings stacked on his long, elegant fingers, eyes glazing with thoughts far, far away from the room he was currently in. "Do you think she thinks about me?" he slurred slightly, the words thick and heavy on his tongue.

The Bomb visibly hesitated, uncertainty flashing in her eyes. "Maybe. I don't know."

Cardan let a bitter laugh spill from his slightly parted lips, a fresh tear unceremoniously working its way down his cheek.

Another drink.

"I really hope I don't remember this tomorrow," he suddenly determined a mere second before his eyes fluttered closed, body going limp as, promptly, he passed out.

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