#it’s missing jurdan hours folks

[clockworkbee]

Cardan was always thinking about Jude. When thinking about her got too much, he was writing her name till he probably passed out. Jude. hate-loving even the shape of her name. Jude.

#idk what this is #maybe its just #cardan greenbriar #missing hours #jurdan #jude duarte #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #tfota #holly black

[catapparently]

The High King of Flowers

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MASTERLIST

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Ship: Jurdan

Word count: 1.1k

~~~~~

They were sitting in the throne room, Cardan looking as bored as ever as two little faeries droned on and on, complaining endlessly about their measly little problems. He absolutely loathed this part of being High King; always having to pretend to care about even the smallest of quarrels in Elfhame and judge them accordingly, lest his subjects would turn away from him for not acting as a “proper and prosperous High King” would and should. Cardan hated it. He like the gifts, the praises, and the long revels with wine and dancing that went on and on until the early mystical hours of the day. Though, in some twisted way, he enjoyed all the attention and importance he was finally being rightfully given as faeries come to him with all of their troubles and worries.

“Well, perhaps it was his fault, this time. As such, Diaspor, you shall give Torren your first berry harvest every month for the next fifteen years, and in return, Torren, you shall teach him how to weave his dried bark strips into the finest of enchanted baskets,” Cardan mused, glancing over at Jude, waiting for her usual approving nod at his conclusions. Jude stared absentmindedly into space, her fingers vacuously stroking the colorful petals of the flowers and the many plants decorating and encasing their thrones. He quickly noticed her dazed state, her gaze fixed on an unfocused spot in the room.

His eyes snapped to the faeries and guards in the throne room as he dismissed them. “Leave us be.”

At his immediate words, they all filed out of the large ornate room, though not without sparing a few curious and inquisitive glances behind them. Cardan reached out his hand, each finger carefully and glamorously embellished with daintier, shiny rings. He lightly grazed his knuckles over the soft round curve of her ear, meticulously admiring the glittering golden ornaments decorating it, the same color as the shimmery swipe of glitter that he always wore on his well-defined cheekbones.

“Jude, my lovely, what are you thinking about this time?” he probe, not exactly used to his High Queen being so utterly… absent. At the sound of his silken voice, her face tilted upwards, her calculating eyes rising to meet Cardan’s adoring ones.

“I was thinking about Vivi, she murmured, “she snagged a date with Heather for tonight. I hope everything goes okay with them this time.” Jude wasn’t the type to worry, yet her voice sounded uncharacteristically strained. She truly cared about her sister, and hoped that Vivi could rekindle her relationship with Heather. Heather, whom both Vivi and Oak dearly missed.

His fingers moved downward, tracing and weaving through the silky brown locks resting on her nape. “And no date for us tonight as well, hmm?” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his perfect plush lips.

“You know, these flowers really are beautiful,” she remarked, her attention once again turning to the lovely decorations around their thrones.” Cardan raised an eyebrow. “You think?” It was unlike Jude to pay such attention top details as small and insignificant as decorations.

“Sometimes it’s hard to believe that someone like you could conjure up such delicate and colorful flowers,” she shot back.

Cardan gasped dramatically, his hands immediately leaving Jude’s smooth cheeks to clutch theatrically at his chest as though she’d shot a glamoured arrow right through it.

“How dare you! I am very much delicate; my skin is as soft as the finest of moth’s dew-bathed silk, and my palms are free of the scars and scratches of a forceful warrior,” he retorted, quick to defend his honor. It was all true, and it was difficult to imagine a faerie more delicate than Cardan. Cardan, who wore eyeliner and kohl to enhance his mischievous eyes. Cardan, who carefully brushed shimmering stardust on his cheekbones. Cardan, who wears the most lavish and unnecessarily intricate doublets and royal clothing. And finally, Cardan, who had recently developed a new liking to lightly staining his lips with the ripest and best of autumn faerie gooseberries. It left a faint sour taste on Jude’s tongue every time she kissed him.

To prove his point even further, he sprang up from his seat, carefully clutching Jude’s wrist and dragging her behind him. Cardan led her straight out of the throne room and into the royal gardens, making sure that all of the faeries who worked to maintain it where gone. Unlike his brother, Balekin, Cardan had never, ever, glamoured defenseless humans into working for him at the palace. Hell, he’d even brought forth a law that forbade it. Yet he still wasn’t willing to admit that on that night, many moon cycles ago, he’d truly cared about that human and saved her from Balekin.

And so, the High King of Elfhame sat his queen down amidst the prosperous rows of blooming flowers, standing proudly before her. Cardan kneeled besides Jude, under the large willow that hid both of them, tucking them into their own little world.

“Jude,” Cardan breathed. His eyes were locked on her, drunkenly inhaling on the image of she who haunted his mind all the time, be it in his thoughts during even the most important of meetings or at night, dancing with his heart cradled in her hands in his dreams. She was his anti-medusa, the ferocious beast of a warrior who had shattered his heart of stone, filling it with the pulsating life of her ambition. The mortal girl who so obstinately wore her hair up in little horns. It was such pure, primitive sense of life that no faerie could have or understand, no matter their eternal lifespan. It was iron that faeries, who could live forever with their magic and enchantments, never truly lived, not in the way that humans do. Not like Jude.

Cardan removed Jude’s crown off of her head and set it safely on her lap, yet it was immediately devoured by the many sparkling layers of red fabric. Red, just like the color of the roses he was weaving into each other by the stems like a flower crown, making sure no thorns remained. He intertwined the flower circlet through her royal crown, then placed it atop her head once more, admiring the way it matched her dress and the faint blush on her cheeks she believed so soundly that she was able to hide. “Wear these. Just like my love for you, the flowers shall never wither or fade.”

“My darling High Queen,” he murmured, utterly drunk on her very presence eternally by his side, his lips brushing against hers, “my Jude.”

#jude duarte #the wicked king #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #the cruel prince #the queen of nothing #flower crowns #soft cardan #willow taylor swift #fluff #romance #fanfic

[loserdiaz]

cardan about jude.

#he's a simp and i love him for it #cardan greenbiar #jude duarte #jurdan #it’s missing jurdan hours folks #the cruel prince incorrect quotes #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #incorrect jurdan quotes

[judesidepiece]

Jude: *Is cunning, ruthless, could kick your ass, is literally a murderer*

Cardan: My wife is an angel, a saint, the epitome of perfection. She can do no wrong. I love her soooooo much !!

#jude x cardan #jude #jurdan #htkoelths #the queen of nothing #jurdan incorrect quotes #i love jurdan sm #it’s missing jurdan hours folks #jurdan fluff #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar is a baby #cardan greenbriar #the folk of the air #tfota #tcp #i love these two idiots in love #twk #qon #holly black

[court-of-forever-undone]

I Knew You’d Come Back to Me

Chapter Two: Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you (Cardan’s POV)

Summary:  While homesick and heartbroken in the mortal world, Jude finds a pile of letters on her doorstep that include an official pardon and a love confession from Cardan. What is supposed to be a happy reunion quickly falls apart when Jude is told Cardan has returned to Nicasia in her absence. 

Cardan is determined to make it up to Jude. 

**This fic is inspired by the love story between Taylor Swift’s characters Betty, James, and August.**

Should you wish to listen: Cardigan | Betty | August

Tags: Multiple POVs, angst and a happy ending, Jurdan, post-wicked king, canon divergence

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Four Months Post Exile

If she has decided that she wishes to stay away and forget about Elfhame, me, then I will forget about her as well. Except that I can’t because for the eternity she has been gone there has been nothing to rid my thoughts of her.

I grab the nearest pitcher of wine, not that they are ever far from my reach as of late, and swallow as much of the tart liquid as I can. At least if I pass out there is a chance I may dream of her, or dream of losing her. But it is a chance I am willing to take.

There is a revel happening, for a reason I cannot remember. Probably honoring some guest that I cannot be bothered to care about at this point. I tend to the kingdom as best as I can for the day, but by the time the dawn is rising I do everything I can to forget the subtle human features that haunt me. The curve of her ear, the flush in her cheeks, the softness of her form.

Since she has been gone there has been an unbearable ache in my chest that only seems to worsen at her memory. I’ve taken back up with a variety of powders that I grew accustomed to at Balekin’s parties. The numbing sensation is highly preferable to the agonizing dread that awaits me in sobriety. At least when time passes differently, I can imagine that she is home again, or at the very least, I can pass more days until she returns.

Her return seems more and more uncertain because despite my letters, she has not come home, nor even responded to them. She has made no inclination that she intends to return, which is ridiculous because she is the queen. When she returns I will have to remember to remind her of all the accusations she threw my way at neglecting responsibilities, meanwhile she has spent months in the mortal world as if waiting for me to come bring her home myself.

I grin at the idea. A trip to the mortal world could quickly end this ridiculous torture. At least I would have the chance to see her in the flesh.

She could get her anger out and then return home with me. At this point, a curse from her lips would sound like music and her fingers curled around my neck would be ecstasy.

In time, that anger might turn to forgiveness and we can all move on from this nonsense.

Present Day

What a dreadful day today has been. I should have returned to my chambers the moment I was given news of a wine shortage because poisoned wine had been found in the castle’s cellars, because that meant I had to suffer through the small council’s bickering mostly sober, followed by hours of grievance hearings from folk. For a kingdom full of people who find me utterly incompetent, they sure do make plenty of pleas to the crown.

Only one hour remains until I can leave the presence of my court and scout for my own wine to drink, poisoned or otherwise.

“Cardan…?” Nicasia said with the air of a question.

I respond with a non-committal sound before glancing in her direction to my left. Again, she had found a seat nearest mine, despite my repeated reminder that she was no longer entitled to that spot. We were nothing beyond friends with a bit of history, even if my entire council, mother, and Nicasia herself thought it was ridiculous to prolong a “land-sea” alliance any longer.

I turn back to the conversation I had been ignoring and make an appropriate response, before quickly tuning them out again. Courtiers have nothing better to do than waste my time.

Admittedly, I could see my advisors’ point and I haven’t exactly fought to deny Nicasia’s advances anymore. Not when the one I want has rejected me entirely, favoring a mortal over me and forsaking our kingdom to my inadequate rule.

If I were a kinder soul, I might have been content to see her happy and adjusted to the mortal world, but I am not. I hate myself for sending her away and I hate her just as much for not wanting to return. Every time someone suggests I marry, I want to scream the truth for the entire kingdom to hear.

I married the mortal Jude Duarte. I did it so she would release her hold over me, but I also did it because I wanted to. I wanted to make her my queen and share this dreaded life with her; the powerful, defiant, occasionally murderous, human woman with all her soft features and perfectly odd ears.

Pride be damned. If she returned, I’d allow her anything. She would never need a geas to command me. She was already a ruler, she deserved the credit. The court would eventually adjust to the idea of a human ruler once they recognized her rule. I would lead the most devoted of her court and in our bedroom, I would further prove to her just how devoted I was by spreading --

Nicasia’s hand sliding over my knee snaps me from my thoughts. The touch of her hand felt sickly wrong considering my thoughts of Jude. I brush her hand aside and purposefully ignore the hurt look on her face. I may allow her into my room on nights where even the wine and the powders cannot bring me peace, but she knows I am far too sober and there are too many people around for that.

At the edge of my peripheral I see a dark shadow approaching. The Roach; always a welcomed distraction usually armed with wonderfully bad news.

“Come to tell me of another attempt on my life?” I murmur as he bows down to whisper in my ear.

“You are needed at once, your majesty” the goblin reports.

At that, I laugh but make no effort to move. “There is a first for everything. What is it?” I am happy to use whatever matter it is as an excuse to leave, but I am curious what requires my attention that the spies could not handle themselves.

“Jude has returned. She is waiting to see you.”

His words hit like the hilt of a sword to the chest. I stand, jumping the courtier closest to me.

“I have matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I say to no one in particular, trying to ignore the loud pounding in my ears as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

I begin to follow the Roach out of the room when I feel a hand on my arm.

“What is going on?” Nicasia asks, her eyes wide. I shake out of her grasp.

“It is a matter of great importance that does not concern you.” Instead of moving away, like my body demands to, I move in closer to her so only she can hear me. “I meant my words in the gardens. Do not show up this evening or any evening again.”

Her mouth fell slightly open as water rimmed her eyes. I didn't stay for her response, instead I turned back and followed the Roach into the tunnel, knowing every step was bringing me closer to Jude. As we stalk through the hallways, I cannot slow the questions bombarding my mind.

Did she decide against her life in the mortal world? Did she miss me as I have missed her? What should I say to her? Will she allow me to embrace her? Should I announce her return tonight?

I have envisioned dozens of scenarios of what I would say or do when she returned, but now that she is only a few steps away I have no plan past seeing her, holding her if I can, to make sure she is real and not my imagination come to life.

We take the final turn that I know leads to the headquarters for the Court of Shadows when Livier blocks the doorway.

“Where is she?”

I watch as her face contorts. She opens her mouth to respond before closing it again, clearly unsure how to answer. I don’t have patience for this. I have to see her now.

“Move Livier,” I demand.

How many months has it been since we had fallen asleep together after our vows? How long has it been that I’ve felt her pressed against me?

“Cardan, wait!” She exclaims as I try to move past her. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

I stop dead at her words.

Before I can speak, the Roach asks for me, “What do you mean? She sent us to get him.”

The pixie nods. “Yes. She went to the royal chambers, but she returned soon after and has stated she does not wish to speak.”

I cannot help the bite to my words. “To speak to anyone, or just me?”

Her silence gives me my answer. “Why?” I spit out.

She is on the other side of the wall. It has been months, what about my room could have made her decide against seeing me? A darker thought crosses my mind; what if she has decided to return to the mortal world again? The idea threatens to break me then and there in the dark tunnels beneath the castle.

Livier looks at her companion with unease.

“Why?” I demand again.

The Bomb swallows before explaining, “When she returned, she asked how long you and the Princess of the Undersea had been back together.”

My desperation melted into cruel pitiful laughter. She was jealous of Nicasia, while she had herself a human plaything. The hypocrisy was grand. I wonder how her face would look when I asked about the man and how she could possibly blame me when she broke our vows first. My laughter quickly fizzled into a frozen anger.

I needed to leave before the weight of the situation could bear down on me. In all my imaginations, I never predicted this. I had hoped she’d run to my arms or more realistically, slap me followed up with a kiss. But never returning and refusing to see me.

I want to beg to see her. Beg for her forgiveness. Beg her to stay even if she hates me.

As a king, I have every right to go wherever I please. But as a queen, she has the right to deny entry to anyone. So I turn in the tight hallway and take the turn that leads to my rooms.

She is home. She wouldn’t see me, but she is home, which meant I could fix this. She might not see me tonight, but I would win her forgiveness and maybe her love too.

****

After almost two weeks of announcements and planning, Jude’s coronation ball will begin soon. I have still yet to see her in person, but through messengers and letters she agreed to rule with me and begrudgingly accepted my proposal for a party to celebrate her return and status.

The actual coronation will not take place for another few weeks due to the time needed to gather all the court’s representatives, but this evening would be a full celebration nonetheless. She is home and that enough is cause to celebrate.

The party will also finally force Jude out of the shadows. I suspect she has moved around the castle quite a bit as I heard she met with her sisters and the Living Council, but she has made a careful effort to avoid me.

There have been several times where I have made it all the way to her door before deciding to leave and giving her the space she demands. For months now, I have had dreams of the moment we saw each other again; I have imagined her vulgar words and sweet touches. Tonight is the last night I can imagine because in a matter of hours I will see her again. For the evening, she will have no choice but to stand in the same room as me. I already announced her as my wife and Elfhame’s High Queen. After this evening, she can avoid me outside of official business, if she wishes. It would be devastating, but no more devastating than how it felt when she was gone.

I pace back and forth in my chambers thinking through all the details of the evening since I have nothing better to do. I dressed long ago in a suit twin to the dress I had sent for Jude. If I thought the last dress I designed for her was stunning, I am not sure I’ll be able to survive seeing her in tonight's creation. I gave the tailor a sketch of a silver gown with a fitted bodice and twin streams of fabric that flow from the shoulders. The hope was to create an illusion of the armor she seemed to favor. I doubt the tailor will disappoint and frankly, Jude could wear an old sack and still be devastatingly beautiful.

Before long I receive the signal to head to the ballroom. As I enter the room, I admire for the first time the servant’s efforts to fulfill my image for the evening. The decoration for a typical revel was nothing compared to the fanfare visible this evening. Long strings of lights and streamers hung from the ceiling and sweet and savory treats of all varieties are piled high on trays. The musicians and other entertainment for the evening are already in full swing keeping the guests happy and amused.

As is customary, the party has been going on for some time now, before the king and now queen enter. The center of the space is filled with revelers dancing and singing. At any other party, I would have gladly joined, but I cannot help the pooling sense of unease as I glance through the crowding looking for a particular face.

I do find the face I am looking for, but not the right person. Taryn is standing on the side of the dance floor chatting with some courtier. Locke is nowhere to be seen, which is for the best. If I notice him even causing Jude to frown this evening, I will have him locked in the dungeons for the night.

I occupy myself with some wine while I wait and use the opportunity to boast of Jude’s brilliance to anyone who decides they wish to speak with me. After about a dozen of these conversations, I finally catch a glimpse of her walking into the room with Vivianne at her side.

My Jude.

I admire her with total abandon. She is absolutely stunning. The movement of her steps causes the fabric to shimmer as it flows obscenely over her body. While I will imagine her in this dress for many nights to come, it is the crown that sits atop her head that captures my attention.

The crowd cheers at her arrival and many bow to her. While she keeps her emotions well concealed, I can see the smallest of smiles appear on her face. She enjoys the recognition. Seeing her now, if I could have given her this from the start I would have.

My heart-stopping queen.

I stay to the side where I am and watch her enjoyment from afar. She dances with her sisters from time to time and speaks to members of the gentry with ease. I know she has noted my presence, even if she has yet to look in my direction. When it is time to address the crowd, it is my turn to avoid her direction. I keep my speech to the folk short, enough to praise her and remind anyone who may be considering treason exactly who Jude Duarte is. At the final toast, I steel myself before addressing her directly.

“Welcome home, Jude.”

Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments, burning with a million unspoken words before she breaks away and turns to address the now-growing crowd around her.

It was the first time she acknowledged me since the morning I sent her away and suddenly the emotion behind that realization hits me all at once. I let my eyes linger on her turned back a moment longer, before downing my drink and disappearing into the gardens to wallow in my own self pity.

I told myself I would be happy if she just returned home, but now I realize how badly each moment I spend away from her aches. In school, I hated the way I longed for her. I had chalked it up to being a disgraceful obsession; one I would have been glad to be rid of whatever that meant for Jude. Now, I am equally obsessed with my mortal queen, but rather than having just my thoughts occupied with her, I feel a feral desperation to be near her, to set things right with her.

It is not uncommon for me to be followed, but when I hear soft steps behind me, the last person I expect to turn and see is Jude. Her brown eyes widened in surprise, as if she was not the one following me. We both stare at each other for a half a second too long, before Jude mumbles something and turns to leave. I take her by the arm before she can take a single step away. I won’t let her get away a second time.

“Ask me how hideous you look tonight,” the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.

She turns back to face me. I loosen my hold on her arm, but let my hand linger until she decides to brush it away.

“This again?” She asks, sounding more tired than annoyed. I didn’t realize how much I missed her voice.

Desperate to hear her again, I reply, “I can’t. You look like a knight from a story tonight.” A filthy story, perhaps.

Jude’s cheeks pinken as she shifts away from me. If I wasn’t afraid to lose her, I might have found her unease at my closeness cute.

“I’m glad to see the kingdom is still in one piece.” Jude acknowledges, changing the subject away from her. The distance between us feels infinitely greater than the foot of space physically separating us. I’d give anything to embrace her now.

“I had help,” I state simply. It is the truth. The Court of Shadows kept tabs on everyone, friends and enemies, and the Living Council for all the headaches they cause me, they did their job as well.

“Nicasia?” Jude didn’t try or simply failed to hide the accusation in the question.

I sigh heavily and take a seat on one of the garden’s benches. “Ahh that. Yes, it is about time we talked.” I motion for her to join me, to which she refuses.

“I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you. I understand we married out of political strategy, I won’t hold you to human standards of monogamy.” Jude echos my sigh, “After your letters, I thought… Well, I misunderstood the situation.”

My core twists at the way her voice trembled on the words. When did her pain stop being cruel amusement and instead became a twin knife that hurts us both?

“I meant every word in those letters” I murmured softly. How many times had I imagined this conversation before?

Anger burns across her face, “So, what? You got bored of waiting for me to return from the exile YOU-” she jams her pointer finger into my chest hard enough to bruise, “ordered! Maybe next time make sure your letters are actually delivered or perhaps don’t send me away in the first place.”

I stand, challenging her anger with my own. “You think I wouldn’t have waited? I went to bring you home. I saw you dancing with the mortal. Don’t pretend I was the first to stray.”

I expected more anger, denial perhaps, but not... confusion?

“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone else,” Jude yells exasperated.

“The blond male. I came to see you and…” I trail off when Jude laughs suddenly. “What could possibly be funny?”

She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head side to side, “Cardan, you saw me with a friend. Nothing ever happened between us, ever.”

Shame washes over me like a tidal wave. I had returned from that trip thinking Jude had made her decision to forget me and stay behind. I had walked straight into a revel and drank every drop of wine in sight. Nicasia found me a few hours later laying in the grass outside the castle and when she came near I did the one thing I thought would make me feel better.

Nicasia had been the first to notice me, my first real friend then lover. After Jude, I thought she could be the thing I needed again, but I was wrong. It didn’t take long for me to realize it would never be as it was before because my heart still belonged to Jude. If I had only spoken to Jude that night in the mortal world, none of this would have happened.

“I believed the reason for your continued absence was because you were still mad. I thought I could go to the mortal world and convince you to come home, but I saw you with the mortal man. I did not handle the thought of you with another well. Nicasia was there when I got back and… I let her into my bed, but it was you that I thought of every moment you were gone.”

Several emotions ripple across her face before she quickly schooled her face into the impenetrable mask she wears around others. She wears around me too. I continue before the fear of her rejection can stop me.

“There are no tricks within my words, so please hear me when I promise you, Jude, mortal High Queen of Elfhame, it is you I love. My heart is yours and forever will be. There will be no other’s, and if you choose to have me again, it will only be you.”

I raise my hand to cup her face and watch as her eyes flutter close. My name falls off her lips like a plea and I think it might be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I lower myself to meet her soft lips. Her hands soon find the front of my jacket and I don't fight when she tugs me closer to her.

Without breaking the kiss, I use my free hand to grip her lower back and pull her back into the garden seat with me. On my lap, Jude opens herself up to me and I greedily take in more of her, missing the taste of her. I can’t help but continue to caress her body with my fingertips, long after we break to catch our breath. I place a series of kisses along her neck, each more drawn out than the last before I speak the cruel fact still on my mind, “of all my terribleness, the worst thing I ever did was what I did to you.”

It hurts knowing I can speak those words aloud. I reach up to wipe a stray tear that has fallen from her eyes.

“Will you have me again, Jude?” My heart pounds in the wake of the question. I watch as she considers it. Truthfully, I wouldn't blame her if she refused me, but it would be torturous to have her so near and not mine.

Slowly, she gives a subtle nod and I don’t hide my sigh of relief. She stares at me for a second longer, before smiling, “I love you, Cardan."

I capture her lips again, finding her more addictive than the sweetest wine.

“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am you have returned.”

Tag List: @wafflesandschemingfaces​ 

If anyone else would like to join the list, let me know! 

#jurdan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #cardan pov #tfota #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the folk of the air fanfic #jurdan fanfic #jude and cardan #nicasia #post-wicked king #jude's exile #cardan's letters #just jurdan things #the high king and queen of elfhame #how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories #i knew you'd come back to me #taylor swift inspired #betty james august

[bookquotes-20]

Crashing

Fandom: Folk of the Air

Ship: Jurdan

Rating: T

Fluffy Angst

Little had changed since Jude’s ascension to the throne. As when she was Seneschal, she coordinated the kingdom’s affairs with unparalleled grace and tenacity.

Perhaps the greatest difference was the respect and admiration that shone in the eyes of her subjects and colleagues. Some entertained the sentiment freely while others offered their appreciation with reluctance, but even those that loathed to admit it, could not deny that their Queen was remarkable.

Oh, and of course, the revels.

As Seneschal, Jude could still make up excuses of work to avoid attending the unending festivities that were often separated by little free time. Cardan was never far from “a party mood,” as it was called in the human world. And when she was considered a mere accessory to the crown, she had no direct obligation to attend each meaningless celebration.

Now that she wore said crown, the lavish parties were considerably more difficult to avoid.

Jude still did not attend them all, nor did she attend them in their entirety. She would, though, make an appearance alongside her husband at the beginning and end of each.

It was a thrill like no other, walking to the dais boasting their thrones, her hand firmly in his, both draped in finery.

He would brush a kiss across her knuckles each time before they took their place together, and his voice would boom across the hall to begin the merriment.

For years, Jude had watched Cardan’s lithe form adorned in lush garments and glittering powders as he maneuvered through galas and feasts and festivities. And yet still, he managed to take her breath away each time.

First with his otherworldly beauty, for their was no other way to describe it. She hesitated to call it Fae beauty because he truly surpassed all the Fae she had seen. The slant of his high cheekbones accentuated by the faint shimmer of gold. The sensuously dark eyes rimmed with kohl that only served to increase their depth, through the contrast they provided against the white around his irises. When a sheen of intoxication covered them, they glimmered like the night sky. The wine he indulged in throughout only served to darken his sinful mouth, accentuating his lips against his pale skin. Unfortunately, Jude was acutely aware that she is not the only one who has noticed Cardan’s painful beauty.

Beyond this carefully crafted beauty, though, through this new lens placed upon their lives, Jude saw something else that set her stomach aflutter in ways she could not hope to explain. Her disinterest with the merriment gave her the opportunity to watch her husband with rapt interest. Observe in ways she had not let herself indulge before.

She watched Cardan charm their guests and dignitaries, smiling wide and tipping his head back in laughter at their stories. His lighthearted demeanor and mischief coaxed grins from even the most stubborn of their guests. Enough so that they’d miss the coy turn to his lips, the sly gleam in his eyes that indicated he was there for more than celebration and mirth. He would masterfully put all around him a perfect ease and walk away having gleaned whatever political advantage he sought. Every. Time.

It fascinated Jude to no end. Her husband was cunning. And no one was the wiser. 

The thought enticed a chuckle from her chest.

The sound seemed to catch Cardan’s attention. He turned his head toward her and gave a small smile as he started up the dais to her.

“Would you grace me with a dance, my queen,” he said, eyes shining. She smiled and took his outstretched hand.

His gaze never wavered from hers. Not when he maneuvered them through the crowds to the center of the room. Certainly not when he placed her hands on his shoulders and his own firmly on her waist. Absolutely not when his fingers pressed with careful deliberation against the small of her back to arch her towards him.

“You’ve danced with quite a many people tonight, my king.” Her voice was mostly teasing. Although, a seasoned ear — and his was most definitely seasoned when it came to Jude — would swear there was the faintest undertone of jealousy. Cardan’s lips twitched into a smile.

“I have only wanted a dance with one person all night, and I have her in my arms.” Jude rolled her eyes in attempted annoyance, but the barest pink on her cheek betrayed all.

He raised their joined hands to twirl her. If he deliberate cut the spin short so she would fall against his chest, neither of them mentioned it.  The longer they danced, the more the world around them faded away. As it often did when they were together. 

The King and Queen had a way of losing themselves in each other. The time, the location, the circumstance was of little import. The ever burning spark between them would flare into a wildfire that burned all else out of their consciousness.

Flint and tinder indeed.

That’s why both startled when a loud cough beside them brought them out of their reveries. Jude nearly jumped backward, she truly would have were it not for Cardan’s firm grasp on her. They turned to see The Bomb waiting with an amused smile.

“Pardon the intrusion, lovebirds — I mean Your Highnesses,” she corrected with a giggle. “If I may borrow the Queen for a moment?”

Cardan threw The Bomb an annoyed glance, as if to say Really? but it only served to fuel her laughter. Jude squeezed his hand apologetically before starting to pull away. He held on to her till the last second, reluctant to let go, desperate to maintain the physical connection between them.

“I’ll see you in our chambers,” Jude whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before The Bomb pulled her away.

The Roach and The Ghost are waiting for them in the shadows of the exit arch. The Roach glances behind the two, suppressing a laugh at their High King who looks downright forlorn at the loss of his queen. What is the expression the mortals use? Whipped?

“What’s wrong?” Jude asked as they approached the spies. “Is there immediate danger?”

“No immediate danger,” The Roach reassured, “A messenger just arrived from the Court of Teeth with a letter. Nothing too serious but it does require a prompt response. They would like to meet with you and the Cardan in one week’s time regarding expanding and fortifying trade routes between the Court and Elfhame. Since it is a four day journey, we thought it best that we send the messenger with a response immediately to avoid rushed panic.”

Jude nodded, “That would be wise. Take me to him.”

In nearly an hour, she had received the message, formulated the perfect response, sent the messenger on his way, and planned the critical details of the summit. The Roach shook his head in amazement, a small smile curled The Ghosts lips, and The Bomb just looked on in respect and adoration. Their Queen was frustratingly talented. When it came to everything except her own safety that is. Her lack of self-preservation was a source of anxiety for them all.

“Would you like an escort back to the revel?” The Ghost asked softly. Jude smiled and shook her head.

“No, thank you, I think I’ll retire for the night. Enjoy your evening.”

They nodded and bid her good night as she started towards the royal chambers.

A deep breath left Jude’s chest as she closed the doors behind her. Her hands rose to her temples, fingers massaging the skin softly.

A brief moment passed until she felt a pair of arms encircle her waist. She didn’t hesitate to melt into her husband’s embrace, allowing his body hold up her own. Her hands covered his as he placed a soft kiss to the skin of her shoulder. Jude found herself thanking Tatterfell for choosing a sleeveless gown for the evening, held up by an intricately embroidered chord of fabric wrapping around her neck.

She tilted her head to look up at him. “You returned from the revel quite early.” Her brow furrowed and she scanned his face for signs of exhaustion. “Are you tired?” He shook his head. 

“My heart was elsewhere.”

The phrase was simple, but the weight of his gaze made it anything but. The corners of Jude’s eyes softened.

“I believe I still owe you a dance, my king.”

Cardan’s eyes brightened. “I believe you do,” he took her hand, brushing a kiss across her knuckles, “my queen.”

She turned in his arms to face him. His arm didn’t move from her waist, simply shifted to better accommodate her.

“Music?”

Cardan smiled and pulled her in closer. His cheek brushed Jude’s and his lips moved to her ear. He began to sing softly.

Jude’s eyes widened in amazement. His voice.

It was unlike anything she had heard before. Deep yet soft, like waves of velvet washing over her. Something in her body thrummed at the sound.

Resonance, was the term that came to mind. It was as if his voice was a frequency her very soul was tuned to. A sound made just for her.

Her forehead fell forward to rest on Cardan’s shoulder. She heard the smile in his voice as he swayed their joined form gently around their chambers. Jude felt the music vibrate through his body against her own.

“You have a beautiful voice,” she whispered against his shoulder. 

“Thank you, my love.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“What song is it?”

“It’s an old Fae ballad, a tale of two lovers whose very natures pitted them against one another.” Cardan spoke low in her ear. Even in the privacy of their chambers, it seemed as though he was hiding the words from the rest of the world, speaking only to her heart. “Just as the lovers constantly fought with each other, their hearts fought them. Their souls were made for one another, yearning to be united. Despite the world of circumstances separating them.”

There was a heavy silence. “I thought of it often in your absence,” he admitted.

Which one? Jude wanted to ask. During her exile? When she was taken by the Undersea? She pulled back to search his eyes. Or perhaps, even in their childhood? When they claimed to feel nothing but hatred for each other.

She rose on her toes to press her lips to his. A silent thank you for his trust, his admission. He kissed her back with more fervor than she expected. Jude braced a hand against his neck, fingers creeping into his dark curls just briefly while his lips moved against hers. Cardan pulled back slightly, breaths coming heavy as he rested his forehead against hers. His brows were furrowed, lines of tension contouring his face. Like he was reliving the pain of losing her all over again. Her fingers traced his face, smoothing the lines away.

“Every time I saw you, there was a fire that lit my veins,” she says into the space between them. “As you said, I always thought it was hatred.” Jude paused. “But I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out why that fire burned so much brighter when I saw another girl in your arms.” His eyes snapped open at that, lips parting in slight awe. The corners of Jude’s mouth twitched. Success, she thought as she saw the pain slowly melt off his face as mirth creeped in.

“My queen,” Cardan began, his eyes sparked anew, “were you perhaps, jealous?”

“Were might not be the right term, are is more appropriate.” Jude scowled slightly. Her fingers stroked the back of his neck absentmindedly. “I still don’t like all the women that try to weasel themselves closer to you, with no regard for your wife’s presence.” She felt a tremor run up his spine at the word. Wife.

Jude paused, hesitating before reminding herself of Cardan’s admission to her. One piece at a time.

“They’re all quite beautiful too,” she muttered under her breath, averting her eyes.

Cardan looked at her as if he didn’t quite hear her correctly.

“My love, you can’t possibly be insecure about your appearance?”

“I mean, I’m not blessed with their Fae beauty or anything.” Truth be told, Jude had never cared about her appearance in front of the Folk. Her battle physique and training were most important to her, they still are. But she would be lying if she said she didn’t occasionally reflect on the differences between her and the beauty of the women that threw themselves at Cardan.

“Jude, look at me please, love.”

When she did, her breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze. “I understand insecurities are normal, everyone has them. Gods know I have more than most. But you have absolutely nothing to concern yourself with.” His hand tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. “You are without a doubt the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. No one else has the power to take my breath away with a single look. To make my heart race with a single touch. To undo me with a single kiss. You have ruled my heart, my mind, my very soul long before any of those women you speak of.”

Jude’s breath froze in her lungs. She knew Cardan loves her. He knew she loves him. They had whispered the words against each other’s lips and skin in dark nights of their chambers, spoken them through their eyes when their gazes locked across the throne room, laughed them to the wind as they danced in the royal gardens (at Cardan’s request). Yet the raw emotion in his words right then, the surety in his voice, nearly cut her open. She wanted to return the sentiment, to tell him what he means to her, but the words froze in her throat. A flash of hatred coursed through Jude at that. Hatred directed at no one but herself. For still freezing when it comes to laying her heart bare before him, the one person she trusts. The one person who deserved her vulnerability. Instead, like a coward, she caught onto his earlier words. 

Jude snorted. “Please, you don’t know what the word insecurity means when it comes to looks.” She poked at his high cheekbones jokingly, before tracing her finger down his sharp jaw. “You’ve never looked less than perfect a day in your life.”

Cardan’s hand rose to cover hers. His gaze pinned her in place. “And yet when I saw true contempt in your eyes, the day you returned to Elfhame, I felt uglier than I ever have in all my days.” He flashed back to the hate she directed at him. It felt like a steel net, weighing him down, closing his airways. He could hardly breathe under the weight. 

She brushed her thumb over his cheek.

Tears in his eyes were the last straw. Jude searched his face, her thoughts racing. No more, she decided. No more hiding. Cardan deserves better. He deserves more. He deserves vulnerability and to be loved freely. He deserves no more armor. Jude steeled her heart and something shifted in her eyes.

“It’s interesting that you saw contempt,” she murmured. “Considering I couldn’t bring myself to be angry with you the way I wished to.” Cardan’s eyes widened in surprise. The corner of her lips twitched. “Unfortunately, hating you has never been easy.” Jude stroked his cheek again. “There are days I question whether I could truly manage it at all.”

There’s a lightness in her eyes he’s unaccustomed to. No. Not a lightness, but rather the absence of weight. Jude does not often voice her feelings, but when she does, there is hesitance. Fear and reluctance swirl in her heart and heavy her tongue. The words she normally would have had to force out, flow today from her lips as naturally as water. Her lips ticked upwards, settling into the ghost of a smile.

Her arm wound tighter around his neck, decreasing the distance between them, while her other hand remained pressed between his hand and his cheek. His own arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer still. Her mouth rose to his, just a hairsbreadth from touching it.

“Did you ever truly hate me,” she whispered.

“I believed I did.” Cardan’s gaze never wavered from hers. “I convinced myself the intense emotion that clouded my every thought was hate, because it seemed like the only acceptable answer. I tried to nurture those thoughts further towards darkness and hatred. At least that I understood.” His temple pressed against hers and a breathy chuckle escaped his chest. “What a fool I was.”

Jude paused a moment before asking another question.

“Can you tell when I lie?”

Startled again, Cardan thought. He contemplated his answer. “I believe so.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t think I can put it into words,” he said. “Truthfully, I don’t think I myself understand how I know. Perhaps it is a product of watching you with such scrutiny all these years. There are parts of you I find myself so attuned to that it surprises me. Very little of myself is conscious when it comes to you, my sweet nemesis.” His thumb brushed back and forth over the skin exposed by a cut of her gown at the waist. The ministration in conjunction with his smooth voice is mesmerizing. She finds herself losing awareness of everything but him. “Your eyes usually give me my answer. As you speak, whenever I look in your eyes,” he moves her hand from his cheek to his heart. “something in here just knows whether you are telling the truth.”

She locked her gaze with his now.

“I love you.”

His breath froze in his throat. And he knew, something deep in his heart knew, that it’s true. He returned her honesty with a kiss. Whispering his greatest secret against her lips.

“I love you, my dearest Jude.”

#jealous!jude #why are they so adorable #I’m obsessed with writing them #angst #fluff #fluffy fluff fluff #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #tfota #tfota fanfic #jurdan fic #high queen jude #tfota fic #booklr #ballroom dancing

[clockworkgraystairs]

I just went a read all your pregnant Jurdan hcs and my gosh, they were so amazing!! If you want and can, could you write one where Jude and Cardan tells the court of shadow crew personally about her being pregnant. I feel like they are her second family tbh.

Hi there!! Sorry it took me a long to write this, but it’s finally finished!!

You’re totally right, they are like a second family to her and deserve all the love and respect! 🧡

Also, thank you so so much for your lovely comment!

Scheming great schemes masterlist

Read on AO3 here!

Tags: @thesirenwashere

If I was supposed to tag somebody else PLEASE forgive me and let me know! (it’s like 2 am and I’m not thinking straight rn) 

SCHEMING GREAT SCHEMES:

The Court of Shadows finds out Jude’s pregnant

(aka Cardan is being overprotective again)

Three weeks had passed since Jude learned she was pregnant. Still, they chose not to make the official announcement until the Full Moon festivities, which lasted almost a week. 

Cardan’s wish was to shout it from their balcony the same day his wife had told him, and then throw a revel for two full weeks. But Jude had convinced him to wait, not wanting to make more fuss than the strictly necessary, which being honest, was going to be a lot. 

At the moment, only three people besides her and Cardan knew about it: Vivi, Taryn and Heather. Even if Jude was dying to see Asha’s incredulous face she’d decided to make her wait until the official announcement. Telling her before would make her feel important. Jude was decided to show her the exact opposite. 

Still, she could feel Asha’s eyes following her everywhere, always calculating. Almost suspicious. Could she know something already? And if she did, why staying silent?

Jude inhaled deeply and lifted her hand to her belly, she needed to stop being so paranoid. 

Her mind kept thinking about it while she entered the Court of Shadows hideout. Jude usually went there when she wanted to train or work without being bothered. It was calm and quiet and-

She stopped in her tracks as she realized the place was not empty. In fact, one could say it was quite crowded.

The Ghost, Roach and the Bomb stood in the middle of the room, and to Jude’s surprise, Cardan was in front of them. They were serious enough that she could almost believe there was a war approaching. She rushed to them with furrowed eyebrows.

“This is top priorit-” Cardan paused, noticing her. “Jude.”

The others turned and nodded, welcoming her. Still, something alarmed in their eyes that made Jude’s shoulders tensed immediately.  

“What’s wrong?” She asked. 

She reached Cardan, her fingers itched to take his, but this was a serious meeting. Maybe later. His expression was unreadable, one that he usually had when his mind was solely focused on a single issue.

“I meant to talk to you later but, I guess now is a good moment as any. From now on, Jude, the Court of Shadows will be your personal guard.” Her what?! She stared at her husband wide eyed. “They shall accompany you on every step and make sure nothing will-” 

“Personal guard?” What on earth was going on? She gazed back to the others, looking for a reasonable explanation. “Did I miss something?”

The Bomb stepped forward and gave a slight bow. “You have my word Your Highness, that no harm will come to the High Queen, no matter the threat.” 

She looked at Jude solemnly, frowning a bit. 

Ok she’d definitely missed something. 

“Can someone please explain why am I to be protected?” Jude crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at Cardan.

He cleared his throat, looking back to their friends. “Your safety has always been important to me, wife.” 

She didn’t buy it, he wasn’t even making eye-contact with her. Suddenly, something clicked inside her brain. 

That idiot.

“Cardan.” 

“Roach and Ghost, you will be with her at all hours. On council meetings, one of you will be inside with her and the other one outside guarding the door. When she retires to sleep, one will be outside the room and the other may go to rest. You-”

“Cardan” She repeated louder this time. He didn’t answer.

“...will report to me of every suspicious movement around her, no matter where it comes from.” He turned to Bomb. “Lilliver, you will be in charge of the perimeter, you are the best at it. Also when Jude needs to bathe or something, l trust you to be with her and assist if she-”

“Oh my god, stop!” Her fists were now tightened at her sides. She wasn’t sure of who to punch first. 

“Jude” The Bomb started, her voice soothing. “It is ok, whatever threat is coming we will not let it reach you.”

“Is there an actual threat upon me, my King?” The way she was glaring at him could make dozens run for their lives, but he just returned her look with strange adoration. She wanted to slap him so hard. 

“Come on Queeny, you can let us protect you for once.” Roach teased, standing next to the Bomb. “It will not make you look less terrifying than usual, no offense.” 

“No one will dare to question that.” Cardan concealed, with that irritating and charming smile of his.

“I am not saying…” She sighed. “I do not need any protection. Whatever nonsense Cardan told you please just forget it.”

“They shall not.” 

Cardan’s voice was back to that autoritary tone. When she get to be alone with him…

At some point the Bomb had approached her and took her hand. “If something is frightening you Jude, we can start investigating it immediately.” 

“I am not scared!” Jude jerked back her hand. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she groaned deeply. “I’m… gods… I’m pregnant ok?”

Raising her gaze again she found the three of the Court frozen in their places. Roach and the Bomb mouth-opened. The Ghost with an eyebrow raised. All of them wide eyed. All of them turning to Cardan in a single motion. Jude found herself biting down a laugh from their incredulous faces. 

Cardan shrugged as if it didn’t change anything. Still, the intensity of his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. 

After a couple of seconds in complete silence, something finally exploded. The Bomb let out a sharp squeal that startled even Roach before throwing herself at Jude in a tight hug, which she answered a little clumsy at the beginning, unused to such displays of affection from her. 

Roach laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh I see now. I knew there was something odd about all of this but…” He swore, still cackling. “Congratulations you both!”

On the other hand, the Ghost looked as if he’d just solved a big mystery. “Ah, I noticed Taryn was keeping some sort of secret from me, got me worried for a while.” He sighed and smiled at the couple, congratulating them as well. 

In all of that time, the Bomb hadn’t let go of Jude, murmuring surprise words and happy nonsense about teaching their baby how to hide and be a spy. Jude didn’t know if being delighted or terrified, but couldn’t contain her smile at her friend’s joy. 

At some point, the Ghost, who Jude never noticed leaving, came back to the room with food, wine and juice. That last one probably for her. They sat on the cushions and carpets and talked, teased and laughed, Jude telling them the story of how she’d found out she was pregnant.

Cardan, who had already came down from his ‘King mode’, joined their happiness and jokes, thanking them for their words. He reach for Jude, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. Watching her with something between love and wariness. “I hope you all have a better understanding now of why her security is priority from now on.”

Jude rolled her eyes, and took his hand. “I get your motives, but you’re really exaggerating, I do not need… well, all of that!”

“Oh no no, stop right there Jude.” Roach said. “Not even a cold breeze is going to touch that belly of yours, I am telling you.”

The other two nodded in agreement. The Bomb suggesting something about not letting anyone even approach Jude without proper previous inspection. 

She stared at them wide eyed. Those traitors. Cardan flashed her a triumphant grin.

Roach noticed Jude’s betrayed glare and shrugged. “Sorry lass, but even if we were not given royal commands to protect you, we would anyway. It may seem like you do not need it now but… it is not of public knowledge yet.” 

“Once it is,” The Bomb continued. “It will be impossible to guess the reactions among the folk. Better to be prepared for anything.”

“Thank you both, my wife is a little stubborn. But I will not take any risks.” Cardan’s grip on her hand tighten a bit. His voice so soft and full of gratitude it made Jude’s chest shrink. 

She sighed, knowing any further excuse would lead nowhere. She really understood, still, being guarded the whole time felt strange. Could she deal with it?

Unless...

“Don’t you think that making Lil stay with me while I bathe is a little too much?” She asked, taking a casual sip from her cup.   

Cardan pulled her closer and laid his chin on her head. “When it comes to you, my love, there is no such thing as ‘too much.’” 

Jude nodded. Raising her hand she started caressing his jaw, trailing her movements down to his neck, slower every inch. She muttered “I just thought you would be a better companion for me on that moment, that’s all. You could keep me close and... well observed the whole time.”

She practically heard his heart skip a beat. He swallowed, and made a low growling sound intended only for her. 

Someone cleared his throat, making them look back at their companions. 

The Roach was trying so hard not to laugh while watching the Bomb. She’d stopped chewing her food and stared at nothing, dramatically uncomfortable. The Ghost kept eating as if he didn’t hear anything, a mocking little smirk on his lips.

Heat climbed up Jude’s cheeks, she hadn’t realized they were being that obvious. Then again, it wasn’t like Cardan didn’t enjoy the attention. 

He chuckled, probably knowing what she was thinking, and raised his cup. “To you, my friends. For everything you have done for us, and what you are still willing to do. I will never find a way to show you how thankful I am.”

Jude mimicked him, her cup filled with grape juice. “You are family to us too, please never forget that.”

Glasses were raised, a couple of tears spilled and more hugs were given. This was one of those moments when Jude didn’t feel like the world was folding over her. She could breathe easily, and laugh in that little bubble of trust and love. Worries like ruling a kingdom, the former Court of Teeth, Lady Asha, nothing mattered now. Just this, just them.

Soft lips pressed to the base of her neck, startling her. She turned to Cardan as his arms surrounded her. “You look happy.” He mumbled. It was not a question. 

Jude cupped his cheek and grazed his mouth. Behind her, the Bomb said something like: “They just keep doing that in front of me, gods why?” 

They ignored her. Cardan chuckled, his chest shaking against hers. 

“I am.” She answered, finally pressing their lips together.

#jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the court of shadows #tfota #scheming great schemes #the bomb #roach #the ghost #tess writes #sorry i just love the concept of the Bomb being all indigned when it comes to Jude and Cardan being affective to each other #like REALLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD? #kasjsjjajhshs

[bluesey-182]

could you please write a jurdan sickfic? i LOVE your writing so much it's beautiful!!

ask and ye shall receive! hope you like it, anon :) and thank you for your kind words 💙

--------

Cardan could tell from the moment they woke up that Jude was not well. She tried her best to explain away her cough to him and tried to soothe her sore throat with several pots of tea that she had delivered to their rooms throughout the day. By the time they had a meeting with the council, her eyes shone with fever and there was color high in her cheeks. Several attempts to get her to rest failed as she shot Cardan’s attempts down each time. He thought, sometimes, that she took her place as High Queen too seriously. She was allowed to rest and demand a break for food and take a few hours with him alone in their rooms, but she continuously pushed herself until she could no longer do so. He knew, without her having to admit it to him, that she believed she had to push herself harder than him to get even half of the respect from the fae folk that he had. He also knew without being told that this was true, and he tried at every chance to command that respect from their subjects towards his wife. But, being a mortal, he feared they never would show her the reverence she deserved as Queen.

The council members filed in to the council room one at a time and slowly took their seats while they chattered amongst themselves. Cardan glanced at where Jude sat beside him–two seats sets side by side at the head of the table–and saw her leaning her head into her hands, her brow bright with a thin sheen of sweat. If he thought he could get away with it without her yelling at him, Cardan would send the council away and force Jude to rest. But alas, that would not stand. Instead they sat through the meeting for some time, Cardan largely tuning out every voice but Jude’s, and Jude continued to get more and more agitated. After some time, Cardan had had enough. He was about to dismiss the council after all when suddenly Jude–now standing in her place–fell into an aggressive coughing fit. Immediately Cardan was on his feet and reaching for her and, though she tried to shake him off, she finally relented to letting him help when the violence of the fit sent her pitching forward into the table. Cardan caught her just before she collapsed.

“None of you speak a word of this,” Cardan growled at the council before demanding them to leave. Once the room was clear, Cardan swooped Jude up into his arms and carried her to their rooms. Her skin felt too hot against his as she shivered, holding on to him like she never would have just a year ago. It was clear from the way she half-slept in his arms that she felt safe, something he knew she was not used to feeling for most of her life. The knowledge of it made his grip on her tighten out of a sense of protection. 

In their rooms he gently set her on their bed. Half dazed, she was too delirious to rid herself of her extravagant clothes. So Cardan made quick work of stripping the layers off for her as she cooed at him to not bother. From the wardrobe he pulled one of his own shirts–she loved to sleep in them and, damn, did she look good when she did–and slipped it over her head before tucking her beneath the blankets.

“What can I do?” Cardan asked her gently, sitting down on the bed beside her and dabbing at her brow with his sleeve to clear the perspiration away.

“I’m fine, I just need to rest for a minute,” she slurred in her sick state.

“You are not fine, you are sick. And I’m going to take care of you. Now, my Queen, tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“Cardan–,” she tried.

“Jude,” he replied in the same tone of voice. He saw the moment she relented–her whole body sinking back into the mattress as she let herself relax–finally. She allowed herself to lean over and rest her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and smoothed her damp hair away from her face.

“Send for Vivi,” she told him, “tell her to get some cold medicine and cough drops.” Cardan did not understand what either of those things were, but nonetheless passed the information on to the guards outside their doors to have sent to Jude’s oldest sister. With that done, he went back to his wife. At first glance–she appeared the be sleeping, curled up on her side as her teeth clattered from the chill of her fever–but then her eyes opened, startling Cardan with the gloss over her beautiful brown eyes that now glowed in an entirely different way.

“What else can I do?” He asked desperately.

“I want some chicken soup,” she whispered.

 “What is that?” He asked sincerely, not being familiar with that particular mortal food. With a laugh, she explained it to him–chicken and carrots boiled in a broth (he didn’t understand what “noodles” were so she told him to not worry about it) and he relayed the description to another guard outside their chambers to bring to the kitchen staff. With the promise of food on the way, Jude finally let her eyes drift closed. Cardan joined her on the bed, leaning on one elbow as he stroked her dark hair away from her face. Even in sickness she was beautiful.

“Cardan?” Lost in his train of thought, he almost missed her voice. But that sound could reach him meters underwater or miles across land. There had never before been a better sound in the world than that of her sweet voice.

“Yes, darling?” He purred.

“Hold me,” she insisted, “I’m cold.”

“I believe I remember Taryn telling me we’re supposed to get your temperature down, not warm you up with my body.”

“But your body is so nice.”

“Alas, my sweet villain, flattery will get you nowhere in this situation. I’ll get some cold rags.”

Despite her protests, Cardan walked into the bathroom and gathered some cloths. He wetted them with cool water and brought them back into the room where Jude now had the covers kicked off down by her feet. “I thought you were cold?” He teased.

“I was,” she replied, “but now I’m burning up.” Cardan chuckled at her strange mortal ailments and layed a cloth over her forehead. Instantly she relaxed a bit and let her eyes drift closed again. Gratification caused Cardan’s mouth to split into a grin. The same grin he knew drove Jude crazy in more ways that one. His grin quickly fell when she was hit with another coughing fit that sent her into a sitting position as she tried to catch her breath. Helpless but desperate to be helpful, Cardan lamely placed his hands on her shoulders and held her up as she coughed into her hands. When the fit subsided, he stacked two pillows behind her to help prop her up and guided her back against them.

“You know,” she croaked. “It’s pretty unfair that you can’t get sick.”

“Would you like me to try real hard to catch your illness?”

“Yes. Let me cough in your mouth.”

A knock on the door interrupted Cardan’s laugh and soon after Vivi came stomping in to their rooms. Nevermind the fact that no one was supposed to enter without his say so. He tried not to be irritated with the situation since Vivi was, in fact, the Queen’s sister.

“I can’t believe you’re sick,” Vivi said like an acquisition. Like somehow it was Jude’s fault. She dropped a plastic bag that said “THANK YOU” on it way too many times onto the nightstand and began pulling the contents out of it. There were a few bottles of colorful liquid, a flimsy box, something that read “Vaporub” and a stuffed whale. At both Jude’s and Cardan’s questioning looks at the stuffed animal, Vivi crossed her arms over her chest. “Oak wanted to help.” She thrust the animal into Jude’s arms. “Now love that thing or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Why are you in such a mood?” Jude demanded. 

“Oak has been driving me nuts these last few days.”

Once again there was a knock on the door. Cardan left the sisters to talk about their brother in order answer it and was met with a servant holding a tray of food. What must have been the soup was in a bowl in the center of the tray and Cardan had to admit it smelled delightful. He took the tray from the servant, who bowed deeply before him, and shut the door with his foot. Back in the bedroom, Jude was holding a tiny plastic cup full of orange liquid and scowling at it like it had offended her.

“Jude,” Vivi said, “you poisoned yourself for months on end, you can take the stupid cough medicine.”

Cardan, shocked by this statement, said, “What?!”

Jude, annoyed by this statement, said, “Bite me.”

In one swift motion Jude put the cup to her lips and threw the contents back in one swallow. She grimaced. “Almost twelve years away from the mortal world and they haven’t managed to make this shit taste any better than when we were kids,” she choked out while motioning with her hand for Cardan to pass her a glass of water, which she promptly threw back in the same manner as the medication.

“Your soup is here,” Cardan said, indicating the tray of food now sitting on the bedside table. Jude accepted it gratefully and sipped at the broth in her spoonful. She grimaced again.

“Needs salt,” she said. At Cardan’s face, she glowered at him. “It’s on my desk in the other room.”

Well, he had said he’d help however she wanted him to… Carrying the pack of salt like it was a bomb, Cardan brought it to his waiting wife who soon after dumped what must have been half the container into the soup. Cardan and Vivi both watched with twin expressions of revulsion as Jude took another bite of the soup and smiled to herself.

“Now,” Vivi said abruptly, “if that’s all you needed, I promised Oak I would take him to a movie, so I must be leaving.” Without even waiting for a response, she turned around on her heel and dramatically left the room in the same fashion she had burst into it. When Cardan turned back to Jude, exhaustion was pulling at her face. She had eaten half the bowls’ contents, set the rest aside on the table, and was now watching him with a sort of wistfulness. He took Vivi’s place beside the bed and combed Jude’s silky brown hair behind her ears using his fingers.

“I’m tired,” his wife said.

“Sleep, my love,” he suggested gently.

“Will you stay with me?” Jude was already laying back down, curling up into a fetal position with the blankets pulled over her once more. Cardan shucked off his clothes until he was in his sleepwear–which was nothing but skin–and crawled into bed with her, curling up behind her on the bed and wrapping his tail gently around her wrist in the way he knew comforted her.

“Of course,” he whispered as her breathing got deeper. “Of course.”

#jurdan #jude x cardan #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #my writing #the wicked king #text post #okay to reblog

[swishandflickwit]

Jurdan — calling your name in the midnight hour 1/1

(gif not mine)

Summary: Jude learns something important.

jurdan + pregnancy headcanon

Words: 3.2k

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Major The Wicked King spoilers. Read at your own risk! Also mentions abortion.

AN: Title from the song Here With Me by Susie Suh even though it has nothing to do with Jurdan, just that it's an excellent song suggested to me by my equally excellent bestie!

@acourtoftruelove — this is all your fault. This is all yours.

Happy reading!

Also on: AO3

Other writing

Jude is late.

Late—though not in the sense that she's delayed for an appointment or a meeting. Nor has she tarried from a destination or celebration for too long. No, Jude is never late.

And by Jude she means her period.

(Funny, how even in an inhuman world, contraception is still—at most—97 percent effective)

And Jude hasn't thrown up since her early attempts at mithridatism, and two years it's been since she was taken to the Undersea as prisoner and forced to miss her daily dosage. While the withdrawal had been brutal on her body, her second endeavor at immunization had been met with much success. So she could not possibly be throwing up because of it, and that which ails the Folk rarely affect humans. And symptoms for the same… conditions that both Folk and humans are privy to may manifest differently within her kind. So really, this could only mean one thing.

She is pregnant.

she is pregnant she is pregnant she is pregnant she is about to have a meltdown and oh god she is pregnant

She does not tell Cardan because of course she does not tell Cardan.

There is no point, she tells herself. They are only reigning for five more years. It is Oak who needs successors, not them. And would she really subject another person to this world? Or the better question being could this world—or any world for that matter—be ready for a child made of her and Cardan, born of murder and manipulation and strife and hatred?

(Beyond it being her exclusive power as a human, Jude is simply a professional at telling lies—)

Which leads her to this conclusion: she is not keeping the baby.

There is no point, she repeats. Cardan will not want this baby.

(—especially when she tells lies to herself)

She informs no one and so she procures a poison all on her own. She knows she could have asked the Bomb to do it, but it wasn't exactly a difficult task for Jude.

But really, she just doesn't want anyone to know.

It isn't until a week after this revelation, as she’s staring down a cup filled a quarter of the way with the crushed petals of deathsweet, is she hit with waves of wrongness in the form of a seemingly unending bout of nausea, her heart screaming—no! No, I can't I can't I will not do this!

Because it is becoming all too real—there is a living thing growing inside her. A living thing that never did her any harm. A living thing created by her and Cardan with odds of (at minimum) fifty percent it could be made of the best parts of the both of them. Because Jude may be selfish and blinded by ambition and a murderer, but contrary to popular belief… she isn't heartless.

If anything, Jude is full of heart. You have to be, to be able to love the creature who murdered your parents in cold blood. You have to at least have the capacity for such a love, and Jude is brimming with it. She is an ocean of it, an immeasurable well that overflows despite itself. She cares too damn much, and it has always been her strength weakness.

And Cardan—she remembers the day she found Eldred's jewels, and how he chose to immortalize the memory of Cardan's mother turning him away only for her to pay that little bit of attention to his cruelty. Then Jude remembers the first time she kissed him, the first time she touched him, the way he looked when she uttered her vows.

How in those moments, this King of Darkness had been filled with unfettered radiance and pure light.

That same light that now grows inside her. A part of Cardan that now lives inside her.

So can she do this to him? Could she deny him the selfless and unadulterated love that which only a child untouched by the horrors of the world could provide? Can she refuse him this, like so many—herself she, shamefully, includes—have done before?

She drops the goblet, blood red whorls cascading the length of the ground like blood, deep and thick and red. But so, so alive, that beautiful color of life.

(No, no she cannot)

She storms out of her ensuite, intent on tracking her husband down, only to discover him on her bed. He is seated calmly, blithely, head bowed and eyes averted to the ground, his feet spread on the floor, fingers steepled before him and his elbows resting on his knees—as if the intensity of her thoughts and actions conjured him before her very eyes.

“Cardan,” she breathes, his name falling from her quivering lips like both an anathema and a benediction, and she wishes she could just find a modicum of calm so she can do this properly, so she can do this ri—

“I'm pregnant,” she blurts.

ungracefully, calamitously, deploringly

He peers up at her. His stare is barren and unflinching when he says, “I know.”

She bites her lip, struggling against the surprised gasp that yearns to escape her because of course. Of course he knew. He is the High King of Elfhame. If he can raise islands from the sea, then to sense life is, no doubt, child's play to him—perhaps borderline insulting in its simplicity. Which is what makes her subterfuge all the more repugnant.

“I was going to abort it,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper, as if it would soften the blow. As if it could cushion the rough edges that line her crime.

As if she could lay down a veneer over the ugly heinousness of her sin, absolution waiting to be found in his eyes.

“I know.”

But again, all she is met with is that blank stare and that equally blank tone and that equally blank reply.

“I changed my mind, though.”

A pause, before a quiet, “I know.”

She picks at his carefully crafted inflection and fancies that if she listens hard enough, she is able to discern an emotion behind his voice besides that of the auditory demonstration of the word ‘void’.

But she is no Fae, and even if she was, she probably would not hear anyway because Cardan is just that good. He is good.

So, though she knows the answer, she asks him. She asks him because she needs him to feel something say something else.

“Are you angry?” she mutters, all warbled syllables and watery articulations. And she hates that.

She hates the tremble in her limbs and the cowardly part of her that urges her to curl herself into a protective ball—a part she thought she had long ago killed. She hates how small her voice is when the words escape her traitorous mouth. She hates the way her eyes are resolute in defying her orders by refusing to meet his stare. She is not herself, or at least, it's been an age since she was last this way.

But she no longer entirely belongs to herself, does she? However temporary this may be. She lives and she lives for another. The knowledge that she is responsible for yet another life leaves her feeling utterly vulnerable and incapable, though she knows this is irrational. She is a warrior. She is a murderer who has killed in the name of the crown, her family and herself. She is a queen, and there is power in that. She need not be afraid. But as she faces the consequences of her omission in the form of Cardan's wrath, she is still crippled by the need to know. She needs to hear him say it.

(As if the confirmation would pardon her of her guilt when it would only anchor her to the pain of her actions further, as strained and suffocating as a noose around her neck)

Cardan rises, and shadows seem to gather around him as he prowls gracefully towards her. Her heated skin meets his cold fingers, firm and austere, because it is her and it is Cardan and they are never quite as soft as they should be when it comes to each other. There is a scarcity of kindness in their partnership.

They are not gentle. No, this is her High King, demanding her attention now.

So their eyes meet, a clash of mud and ink and there. There it is. There is that look in his eyes—that hungry rage, that depthless fury for which he had been branded a cruel prince… a wicked king.

Yet beneath it, that aching, turbulent despair too. Barely noticeable and easily overlooked, unless he permits you to see.

Oh, how he desires for her to see.How he thirsts for her suffering.

And she can't even rail against it, against him, because she deserves it.

By god, she deserves it.

And moreso, she hates how everything about being human betrays her—from her moiling, racing heart to the sweat now beading her back and her temples.

(Impetuously, she wonders if their baby will inherit the easy flush of her skin or will it be as pale and ethereal as its father? Will it accede her more human fallibilities or be unquestionably, indomitably Fae in supernatural abilities? Will it be as aloof and cunning as she or as charming and deceptive as he?

Or will their baby be a messy, disastrous, beautiful combination of them both?)

(Their baby, oh god)

Cardan's voice is as low and enticing as a prurient lover when he whispers, "Yes."

She nods. For once, she is resigned. Accepting. And because of it, she strives for some imitation of levity with an arch but ultimately paltry quip of, "Are you going to exile me again?"

But the High King does not laugh.

A stupid joke to begin with, for even if he does exile her, they both know she would find her way back.

(Only she could ever find a way back to him)

Instead, his grip on her chin tightens as his other hand finds her hip.

"Infuriating woman," he coos, even when his touch feels like a howling winter within his palms. "When are you going to realize that you are not alone? That you never have to do anything alone, ever again?"

And that winter penetrates her bones till she is frozen with shock and breathing out a harsh and frigid,"What?"

His hold is hard—bruising—even as his breath remains a cool mist against her ear that makes her shudder, despite herself.

"My personal Atlas," he sighs, "always the weight of the world on her shoulders."

When he pulls back, his eyes remain angry torches within the midnight darkness of the room. But a relieved breath escapes her anyway when he brings their bodies flush against each other and he is receptive to the way she locks her arms around his neck and shackles him to her.

"Make no mistake, Jude. I am angry. But not for the reasons you might think.”

He shakes his head and she is assaulted by the emotion conquering his beautiful visage, the barrage of his disappointment piercing her heart in twisting, deadly ways. Not even his anger has the ability to penetrate the protective barrier she has erected around her emotions the way his disappointment can.

(Because anger is easy. His anger is steam and easily dissipated. But his disappointment is a parasite—infecting first his mind, body and soul then hers, as it burgeons and festers)

“I’m not angry that you didn't want to keep the child. I'm angry that once again, you chose to keep me in the dark. You chose not to trust me enough to share in this with you, that we might decide on a course of action together.”

Another sigh. Another embittered shake of his head. “I thought we were past this.”

“We are—”

“It does not appear that way,” he growls, anger momentarily rousing and taking precedence, before altogether, deflating. “Not where I'm standing.”

(But most of all she hates that too, hates that she is the reason for the anguish that paints his eyebrows into a marred frown, his eyes into a lament and his mouth in defeated angles)

So though it pains her to say it, say it she does because she does trust him. It took forever and a day but yes yes yes she trusts him.

And he needs to know it.

"I was scared," she croaks, barely holding back a sob. "I'm still scared."

Because what the hell did she know about being a mother? About being a parent? She is Madoc’s daughter, and she is every bit the monster he made her and then some. Because if there is anything she's learned from living in Faerie, it's that Monsters maketh Monsters.

So yes, she is scared. She is terrified to bring this child into the world, to bear responsibility for raising this child to not only survive but to live, the best life that she can bestow.

But she is not Atlas. She doesn't have to do this alone, nor does she want to. And... she could know better, right? No, she does know better. She did it for Vivi, and she did it for Oak and for Taryn. She did it for Cardan, and Cardan has done it for her. They are what their Masters made them, true, but their child does not have to be the same. They could forge it anew. They could mold it into something else. Something better—born of Monsters but made of goodness and kindness and effulgence.

(Because yet another thing she's learned from Faerie—has discovered within herselfis even monsters learn to love their misdeeds)

She would give this babe what her mother was unable to give her and she would provide it tenfold. Because she knows better. They know better.

And she has to believe it.

She has to believe in him, too.

“And you think I'm not?” he starts haltingly, before resolution cements his glare.

“I made you a vow, wife. You are to be my queen and my bride, in every sense of the word. Even this,” he rasps, as he lets go of her chin and shifts his touch to her stomach.

“Especially this.”

She's crying in earnest now. Not the pretty and delicate way that most of the Folk do, but a deluge of salt and snot that drowns her face.

“Anything I've ever done right, all that is good in my life… it has been because of you. You are madness personified and Leannán Sídhe incarnate.” She sucks in a sharp breath at his acrid timbre. “But,” he hums after a leaden period of silence—a susurrous proclamation that is made all the more potent for its tenderness.

“You are the rhyme and the reason, the chaos and the utopia. A symptom of my most fevered dreams and a cure from my bedeviled reality. Were I a minstrel or a bard, my every beginning, middle and end would be composed of you. And were I a fool,” and here his breath hitches, “then may I only be a fool in love with you.”

She has forgotten how to speak, at this point. She has forgotten how to breathe.She has forgotten everything—everything except for the way Cardan looks and thinks and speaks and feels. For he may have once written her name repeatedly across a piece of paper, but she's got him written extensively across her heart.

“Whatever happens, whoever this becomes,” trepid fingers mark a shaky path beneath her chemise till he is cosseting the currently imperceptible bump of her stomach, “this is not a mistake. We are not a mistake.”

(She believes in him. She believes in them. She believes, she believes, she believes)

"I am still angry.”

It is her turn to say, ruefully, “I know.”

“But I made you a vow, Jude Duarte,” he recurs in deceptively smooth intonations. “And I intend to keep it.” His stare is intent with mockery and his voice pointed and goading as he issues his challenge.

“Do you?”

She's hurt him. She knows she has.

So she doesn't take his bait. No, she rather tempers his ire by joining his hand resting lightly over her stomach with her own, the one where the ruby ring he once stole now makes a home of her ring finger, digits entwining in a physical manifestation of their matrimonial pronouncements.

“I do,” she promises, so very soft and fragile and achingly, heart-wrenchingly human.But devout and sincere and wholly free of deceit all the same. “Till the crown has passed from our hands,” she avows.

(Again and again and again, she will swear by it)

For the first time in this entire conversation, he smiles. Brittle and vascillant and crooked, too—a fragment in the perfect symmetry of his face.

But it is a smile. And there is a certain serenity to the curl of his mouth, the curve of one upturned cheek... and so she takes it. She takes the small and broken smile because it is still his smile, and it is better than anger and disappointment. It is better than nothing.

He presses his forehead to hers, breathing her in—tears, sweat, desperation and all.

“And maybe even then.”

She traces his lips before cupping his cheek. He leans into her touch like someone starved of food and drink instead of the revered monarch that he truly is, one who has yet to be denied anything.

(Not this—not affection and not love. Never again, she affirms, if only to herself this time. Because Jude is an ocean of love, an immeasurable well that overflows despite itself. Because she cares too damn much, and it has always been her weakness strength)

“And maybe even then,” she echoes, quietly hoping for maybe to mean definitely.

And so it does. Slowly, gradually. Like the constantly shifting plates beneath her feet or the everlasting revolution of the earth. But earthquakes erupt and new years come and go as the planet completes its circuit around the sun and along with it—

They prevail.

Till even then becomes nine months later and the birth of a new line of Greenbriars in the form of their first son, who is strong and healthy and beautiful and every bit the refulgent soul his parents dare hoped he would be.

Till even then turns into thirteen prosperous years of rule in what many will call "The Amber Age of Elfhame", so named for its silver king and its golden queen, and the clever and competent way they maintained peace throughout the kingdom as if it were an insect trapped in amber.

Till even then morphs into the birth of five more children, Greenbriar in name only, for unlike their ancestors, they all loved each other with a fierce passion and an unyielding loyalty that to turn on each other felt to them, like a keen death in itself.

Till even then dissolves them of their previous vows so they form new ones, vows that go beyond their desire to wed, beyond the passing of the crown, beyond life and death and everything in between.

Till even then blossoms into forevermore.

AN: This is my first ever FOTA fic. It was originally in headcanon format so I'm sorry if the pacing is off but, I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

Feedback is appreciated lovelies :)

Come say hi to me!

#twk spoilers #the wicked king spoilers #jurdan #jurdan ff #tw: abortion #jurdan fan fiction #fota ff #fota fan fiction #jurdan headcanon #pregnancy headcanon #future au #jurdan angst #jurdan au #im having twk withdrawals lol #swishandflickwit ff

[clockworkbee]

the way these two are so different and yet,

I'm putting these together because hey! those are my two precious boys, dreaming about and being in love with the only girls who hold the power to command them <3

—Cardan Greenbriar, from The Queen of Nothing

—Jesse Blackthorn, from Chain of Thorns

#its missing them hours #😩 #💗 #jurdan #ghostwriter #blackdale #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #lucie herondale #jesse blackthorn #queen of nothing #chain of thorns #the folk of the air #the last hours #tfota parallels #tsc parallels #tfota #tlh

[judesidepiece]

HC where Jude brings Cardan random gifts from the mortal world that she thinks he would find neat like polaroid cameras and snake rings and he is just. so. touched. every time because no one has ever done something thoughtful for him before and he absolutely SHOWERS her in jewels and flowers and customized swords and daggers afterwards because he loooves his wife sooo much 😫. And yes, they make everyone in Elfhame jealous with their relationship because they are THE power couple 😩

#jurdan #fluff #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #it’s missing jurdan hours folks #holly black #head canon #the cruel prince #tcp #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jude #cardan #2 AM thoughts #I should probably sleep #tfota #htkoelths