#madoc's stronghold

[clockworkbee]

| Welcome to Holly Black's Faerieland

part ii

#elfhame #the palace of elfhame #madoc's stronghold #locke's estate #lake of masks #the cruel prince #the wicked king #queen of nothing #the folk of the air #tfota #holly black #tfota edits #clockworkbee edits

[ezziefae]

Thoughts on Chap 2 of The Prisoner's Throne.

"Oak takes the stairs, careful now. He has the surreal feeling of being in a video game. He played enough of them, sitting on Vivi’s couch. Creeping through pixelated rooms that had more of the appearance of Madoc’s stronghold where he grew up than anywhere they went in the mortal world. Leaning on Heather’s shoulder, controller in his hands. Killing people. Hiding the bodies."

Okay, starting off strong already. I squealed when I read the part where Oak has his head leaning on Heather's shoulder. The "Killing people. Hiding the bodies" part was an obvious reference to Oak's blood thirst.

This is a stupid, ugly, violent game, Vivi said. Life isn’t like that. And Jude, who was visiting, raised her eyebrows and said nothing.

JUDEEEEEE

a few selkies hang around at the edges, no doubt gathering news of a rising power to take back to the Undersea.

These selkies are snitches. Holly did confirm that we were gonna see many familar faces from TFOTA, so I am definitely expecting to see Nicasia or Orlagh.

But after he and Vivi and Heather had to carry bags of laundry to the basement of their apartment building and feed quarters into a machine, along with detergent and fabric softener, he realized that someone must have been performing a related service for him in Faerie.

AWEEEE! how humble Oak has become. I'm so happy we're not only getting more Jude and Cardan but also Vivi and Heather.

He feels a bit foolish as he wades into a vat, naked. Should he be discovered, he will doubtless have to play the silly, carefree prince, so vain that he escaped his prison for a bath. It would be a crowning achievement of embarrassment.

LMAO! I can just imagine how hilarious this would be.

Oak knows it’s ridiculous, and yet he can’t help feeling as though they have an understanding of each other

Oak had the bridle placed on him, he was imprisoned for three weeks, he was starved and neglected, and he still thinks this way of Wren. This boy is soooo in love.

Nor is he sure what it means about him that he finds hope in the fact that Wren has kept him. Fine, not everyone would see being thrown into a dungeon as a romantic gesture, but he’s choosing to at least consider the possibility that she put him there because she wants something more from him.

Oak is absolutely DELUSIONAL, DE LU LUUU. LIKE BOY FINDS BEING IMPRISIONED A ROMANTIC GESTURE. THAT IS VERY CONCERNING. IM CRYING

since Hyacinthe was the one who stole Damsel Fly

NO! NOT DAMSEL FLY TOOO! Oh a war is definitely coming.

Hyacinthe is now Wren’s second-in-command

oh this will not be a fun discovery for Tiernan.

Either way, he’d be free. Free to not need rescuing. Free to attempt to talk his sister out of whatever homicidal plan she might foment against the Citadel. Free to return home and go back to performing fecklessness, back to sharing the bed of anyone he thought might be planning a political coup, back to being an heir who never wants to inherit.

The way Oak believes he can talk Jude out of battling with Wren. Like does he not know his sister?

"Back to sharing the bed of anyone he thought might be planning a political coup" WHATTT!!! okay this is a huge deal, Oak has been sleeping with people to find out if they are a threat to him or elfhame. My poor boy, does oriona not watch over him??? or jude?? how did it get so bad that he had to start doing that???

Not that he knows how to stop either of them if he remains here. He’s not sure anyone knows how to stop Jude. And Wren has the power of annihilation. She can break curses and tear spells to pieces with barely any effort. She took apart Lady Nore as though she were a stick creature and spread her insides over the snow.

Yeah so when I finished The Stolen Heir, I feared for Jude and Cardan. Oak is right, Jude is dangerous and she will try to fight ANYTHING that gets in her way, but Wren is horrifically dangerous as well. I fear for both Jude and Wren. This is gonna be chaos.

Then he sees Wren, and longing shoots through him like a kick to the gut. He forgets about risk. Forgets about schemes.

OH OAKKK STOPPPPP.

“Not my future.” There is a hollowness to Wren’s cheeks, Oak notices. She’s thinner than she was, and her eyes shine with a feverish brightness. Has she been ill? Is this because of the wound in her side when she was struck by an arrow?

Oh no.

Bogdana does not contradict her this time. “You have need of my strength. And you have need of my companions if you hope to continue as you are.” Oak stiffens at those words, wondering at their meaning.

so wren is not doing so well, and bogdana hope she listens and gets help from her companions. the real question here is what is the problem?????

Mother Marrow does not seem discomfited in the least. She walks to Wren and deposits the white walnut in her hand. “Remember these words, then. To conjure it, say: We are weary and wish to rest our bones. Broken shell, bring me a cottage of stones.”

So wren can make a cottage appear and dissaper with the shell she received from mother marrow. Im assuming that this shell will be used in the story somehow. But what would get to that point? wren already lives in a palace of her own, so why give her a shell that can make a cottage house appear? will Oak use it when he escapes? will wren run away and use it???? im guessing this cottage house will be used significantly.

And yet, Oak notices that she sways a little before gripping the arm of her throne. Forcing herself upright. Something is very wrong.

Yikes.

The man steps forward. “Though I do not like to be outdone, I have nothing so fine to give you. But Bogdana summoned me here to see if I can undo what—”

So from what I'm getting, there's something more about wren we don't know about. something that's hurting her or affecting her deeply. Her power? stress and anxiety? I might need some time to crack this one.

Her eyes move restlessly under their lids, as though she doesn’t even feel safe in dreams. Her skin has a glassy quality, as though from sweat or possibly ice. What has she been doing to herself ?

I'm starting to feel very overprotective of Wren. With Jude and Cardan coming to the citadel to save Oak I fear for both sides.

But as though she can sense him, Wren opens her eyes.

SERIOUSLY THIS IS HOW THE CHAPTER ENDS??? At this point Oak is asking to be killed, he could've had the oppurtunity to escape, yet he chose to follow wren to her room. This chapter made me feel very empathetic of Wren, she looks like a villain, but she's really not. She has been betrayed, tortured, abused, neglected for many years, her actions of becoming queen and imprisoning Oak all come from hurt.

#I cant wait for march 5th #i need more #ahhhhhh #screaming #I love wren #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #holly black #the folk of the air #the prisoners throne #elfhame #jurdan #the stolen heir #the cruel prince #oak greenbriar #Wren #queen suren #wren x oak #vivi duarte #heather #vivi x heather #the prisoners throne snippet

[rabbitholessk]

land soup (or ten year old Jurdan being kids in faerie before everything)

Jude stomps away from Madoc’s stronghold. Her and Taryn just squabbled ferociously and she needs to be as far from Taryn as possible. Taryn wore on her last nerve, especially after dealing with the cries of the new adoptive baby Madoc took in, along with a bride. Jude was due some much needed alone time and quiet.

The luster and frightening feel of Faerie has worn off ever so slightly after the three years her, Taryn, and Vivi have now lived here. 

Ten years old, angry with her sister, and with one of her fingers healing where the tip had been bitten off a few odd weeks ago;  Jude feels for the first time in a long time, like she is out of place. If she was in the mortal realm, she would have probably taken her bike and rode off somewhere to blow off steam. But alas, her bike is more than likely covered in a thick layer of dust in her family’s former garage. Or, maybe, a different kid was using her bike now. 

She shakes the thought and forges on. Careful not to step on any suspicious mushrooms or plants. Jude is ever weary of any creatures looking at her through the trees so she keeps her head high and her focus forward. 

She’s walked off farther than she ought to have, but finds herself grateful for it. After passing through the milkwood she happened upon a hidden lake, enshrouded by lazy willow trees and surrounded by flowers in every shade of blue and purple. No matter the horrors of Faerie, there were still these scenes that seemed to have come straight from one of the fairy tale books of her youth.

Jude decides to set up in this beautiful area for a while. Gathering rocks from around the small lake she skips them across the surface. Or attempts to. It’s been a while since she’s done this. It feels bittersweet. Her father had been the one to teach her how to skip rocks on their summer trips to the beach. 

“What are you doing?” A commanding, yet curious voice questions over shoulder. To her embarrassment, she startles and whirls around, narrowly missing the mystery person's head with a thrown rock. 

With quick reflexes she’s not able to study who the mystery person is, when said person is throwing the rock back at her. She ducks in time, then springs back up to find none other than the youngest Prince of Faerie’s piercing kohl eyes studying her. 

“You.” 

She’s familiar with Cardan. He’s in the academy with her and Taryn. They don’t interact all that often considering their difference in social standing. 

“I command you to show me how to do what you were just doing.” The prince says snootily. Jude has the brief instance where she thinks she wants to laugh in his face or tell him off, but instead she bites her tongue. It was a bad idea to make enemies of the royal family. Respect for the Greenbriar line has been drilled into Taryn and Jude ever since Madoc took them in.

More like he murdered their parents, and kidnapped them. But in faerie, Jude has learned that might just be any other Tuesday for the Folk.

Jude rolls her eyes and trudges closer to the shore of the pristine lake. 

“First we need to find some rocks.” She states, searching the bank and finding a small handful. To her surprise the youngest prince has gotten onto his hands and knees and is digging through the dirt. If a Prince of Elfhame digging through dirt is a shock, the tail emerging from behind him is an even bigger one. 

She says nothing and waits for him to collect his rocks. She tucks the observation away for a later time, a question for Vivi, perhaps. 

Jude shows him the motions and watches as Cardan attempts to skip them across the surface. She quickly gets bored when she realizes he’s going to be doing this for a while. His focus is seemingly stuck on perfecting the skill. 

Instead, to kill more time, Jude trudges over to a decaying tree stump and takes up an act from her childhood that has been long forgotten. The urge to collect various pieces from nature and make a ‘land soup’ with the stump as the cauldron consumes her. It may be childish for someone whose age is now in the double digits, but she is alone, save for the Prince still tossing rocks. Nonetheless, she indulges on this small ounce of her lost childhood. 

After collecting leaves, rocks, brambles, a collection of blue and purple petals Jude stirs them into the cauldron. She found a large stick to act as a stirring device and set to work. Watching with rapt attention as the different bits of nature become this hodge-podge of nasty within the stump, she fails to hear Cardan creep up behind her. 

“What is that horrible mess?” 

To her great embarrassment, once again, she jolts-- her stick cracks against the stump from the shock. 

“It’s land soup.” She mutters.

“Your pardon?” 

“It’s a game from my childhood.” She’s not exactly sure how much of her life the Prince knows about, so she only supplies the minimal answer. 

“Ah.” He gets closer to the slop. “Have you considered adding water?” Jude swivels to look at him, astounded by his suggestion. If she’s read him correctly, he’s being playful. Before she can answer, Cardan is already rushing the few feet over to the lake. He gathers water in cupped hands, spilling some on the dash over to the stump. 

Wordlessly, with two mirroring grins, they hobble back and forth from the stump and the lake with cupped hands of water. The smell becomes atrocious, a sure-fire sign you’ve made land soup properly. 

“It smells awful.” Jude remarks, watching as Cardan uses her stick to swirl around the murky contents of the stump. 

“It’s more appealing than most of my meals.” From the strangely serious demeanor he adopts, Jude cannot tell if the Prince is joking. 

The sun is beginning to set below the horizon. Jude hadn’t realized how long she’d been away. She had tried to retreat when everyone else would have been asleep, completely disregarding why the Prince would ever be awake at this hour as well. 

Cardan catches her studying the moon rising in the distance. 

“Do you know your way home?” He questions softly. She nods. It’s growing dark now though, and she can’t see in the dark like the fae. The two still stand around the stump. 

“I can’t see in the dark.” She admits. 

“Madoc’s stronghold?” Cardan asks. 

Jude pauses then utters an affirmative. Swiftly his hand wraps around her wrist, and he’s dragging her through the dark patch of forest, until she recognizes the heady smell of the milkwood, all the way until she sees the familiar torches of Madoc’s stronghold just beyond the tree line the two are tucked into. 

She’s not sure what to say, or what to do with Cardan. In turn, he decides for both of them. Jude knows the honey laced sound of a glamour. She feels briefly infuriated and hurt, until he begins to speak. 

“You will go to your room, sleep, and mention our meeting to no one. You will not remember what happened tonight, you were simply going for a walk and got turned around.” 

Jude’s feet trample through the dark until she makes it to the door. Oriana ushers her in and up to her bedroom where Jude flops face first into her mattress. Exhausted with the smell of mud and flowers laced in her hair and clothes. When she wakes she craves honey cakes. 

#jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #jude x cardan #jurdan #the cruel prince #fanfic #also on my ao3

[lightsinthemist]

"He has the surreal feeling of being in a video game. He played enough of them, sitting on Vivi's couch. Creeping through pixelated rooms that had more of the appearance of Madoc's stronghold where he grew up that anywhere they went in the mortal world. Leaning on Heather's shoulder, controller in hands. Killing people. Hiding the bodies.

This is stupid, ugly, violent game, Vivi said. Life isn't like that. And Jude, who was visiting, raised her eyebrows and said nothing."

The Prisoner's Throne (Holly Black)

#LOL #the prisoner's throne #holly black #the folk of the air #books #quotes #this made me chuckle

[lidiasloca]

can you write a fic of the folk of the air but in jude's POV. i don't really care about what. thankks

Valerian about Jude's ruby pen (jurdan fic)

Once, Valerian stole a silver pen of mine, and Madoc replaced it with a ruby studded one from his own desk. This threw Valerian into such a rage that he cracked me in the back of the head with his wooden practice sword. The Cruel Prince, Holly Black.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

The pen Madoc gives me is heavier and for sure, fancier. I don’t feel better though, it’s not like I’ve won this fight with Valerian.

Yes, I got a new and better pen, however, it was my pen, mine. It wasn’t his to take and I hate how he used it to show my impotence about what he can do.

He didn’t tell me he stole it, nor did I see him doing it, but it got obvious when I saw him showing it in class to his friends. Nicasia laughed while Locke and Cardan shared a knowing grin that made me sick.

I felt raged and furious, and then ashamed that I felt that way for a mere pen. As always, I decided to say nothing and do nothing, just stand there, pretending nothing had been done, giving no reaction away.

Just like Taryn tells me to do if I want them to stop. 

“What is it?” Madoc kneels a bit to share a visual line with my eyes. “This one is far better than the one you lost, isn’t it?” He asks smiling.

I nod while avoiding his eyes and the lie they believe to be true, The one you lost. Why can't he see what’s so obvious? Is it because he doesn’t wish to know?

“Well then, you should get going. I’ll see you for practice after school.” He kisses the top of my head and parts out of the room, leaving the door open. 

I meet Taryn downstairs. I say nothing as I grab my things, my new pen among them, and walk out of the door. We walk on our usual path, calm and dark.

“What do you think?” I turn to Taryn, whose expecting eyes make me think I’ve been not listening to her for a while, lost in my thoughts.

“About?” I ask and watch her annoyed face.

“You haven’t heard anything I said.” It’s not a question so I don’t answer. 

She sighs and says, “I was talking about Vivi’s plan for the weekend, that she wants to go to the mortal world. All that.”

Oh. Madoc won’t like for us to disappear for two whole days. Vivi missing once in a while and then coming back is one thing, Madoc’s given up on her with that.

Nonetheless, Taryn and I leaving the stronghold for so long is something he won’t approve. “I don’t really want to go. Not for so long.” Taryn says.

“Yeah, me neither.”

We’re now near the school, I see some faeries outside getting ready for the first class, fighting practice. “Agh. Today's fighting. I forgot to pack my sword.” My wood sword, I think, my dagger is packed.

“If you want you can use mine. I don’t really want to fight today.” Taryn tells me. Before I can answer, denying her offer, the instructor shouts, “Join, now. We’re starting!”

When we get there everyone is already paired and starting with the movements. “Now left. Upper! You can’t hit if you aim so low!” The teacher yells while he walks, checking every pair.

“We have to fight together. One takes the sword and the other just dodges hits.” Taryn says as she takes her wood sword out.

“We can’t do that, that’s not what today’s practice is about. You’ll have to find someone else.” I tell her as I unpack my things and sit on the floor, planning to finish some notes I couldn’t write the other day. 

While she complains about having to find a partner I see behind her someone walking towards us. Valerian. Taryn turns to look where I am staring and immediately shuts up.

I don’t know whether my keeping seated on the ground is due to paralyzing panic of the imminent danger, or if it’s simply an act of defiance and to prove that I’m not scared. Which wouldn't be true.

“Mortals, you are still here.” He says cheerfully when he is close enough to us to make us feel threatened. “I had hoped for our last encounter to have made you change your minds. For you to understand this is no place for things like you.”

Nicasia, who was walking behind Valerian, is now standing next to him. I can see Cardan and Locke also walking to us. It’s clear none of them want to miss watching the show Valerian is going to make.

Taryn and I say nothing, each because of different reasons. “Oh. None talk now.” Nicasia laughs as she crosses her arm with Cardan’s, who is now standing with all of them.

He’s looking intensely at me and it makes me regret remaining seated. Unready for a fight.

“Nor do they follow the practice.” Locke adds, his face giving no emotion.

“Incompetent and lazy, then.” Nicasia says, her eyes looking for Cardan’s smile, something neither Locke nor I miss. 

“Maybe we should help them catch up with us. Besides, I don’t think they have enough swords.” Valerian tells his friends, giving away that he had been listening to us before. He turns his gaze to me. “Wouldn’t you want us to give you another sword?” 

It’s Taryn who answers, “You don’t have to. We- we’re good.” Her shy tone only makes Valerian’s smile grow wider, which makes me stand up, preparing for whatever might happen. I should not underestimate him and the limits he would for sure cross. 

When I stand, the things in my lap fall. My new ruby pen falls too and Cardan sees it. “And what is that?” He asks, gesturing to the pen with his chin.

Valerian’s eyes move to said object and the fake smile he was wearing before transforms into something worse. Infuriated, he walks to me.

As he passes Taryn by, he takes her wood sword out of her hands. I command my body to take a step back, but instead, I move forward. Instinctively, I move my hand to grab for my dagger, under my shirt, still, I don’t take it out.

Pretending manners, Valerian asks,“Could I see it?” Referring to the pen that’s going to make him even angrier. He’s now standing right in front me. I can feel every breath he takes, while, on the other hand, I’m holding every breath of mine.

“What is it that you want to see?” I say, pretending to be confused. He only gets more mad and pushes me to the side, making me fall.

“Jude!” Taryn yells, clearly worried.

“Oh, she’s just fine.” Nicasia tells her.

As I get up, Valerian kneels to take the ruby pen. He eyes it, turning it in his hand. “How nice and fancy.” He says, like if he was talking to himself. “How fragile, though.” He puts the wood sword on the floor and holds the pen with both of his hands to then break it in half.

I let out a frustrated groan as I stare down at him, my anger almost tangible. Valerian stands up with the practice sword in his hand.

I want to fight him. I want to hurt him so badly so he surrenders to buying me a new pen. I want to cause him so much pain so he apologizes and admits how wrong he was about the impossibility of a mortal besting him. But I know all too well how this type of greediness is never to be sated.

“Take your things.” Valerian tells me, voice rough. He’s no good at masquerading how jealous he is about a pen. Nearly as bad as I am at pretending to not care. “Take your things and go to that stronghold. Go to that — murderer that pretends to be your father.” Despite his anger, he says that last bit as if he didn’t mean it to be any insult, just a fact.

“Why should I?” I reply infuriated. Following his order is not something I want to do, even if that’ll save me from upcoming problems.

“Because you’re told to.” Cardan says. I turn my gaze to him, he’s closer than before, but he's still behind Valerian. He seems so pleased with himself I have to look away, fearing I’ll say something that will make him join this. 

Next to Cardan I see Taryn, whose eyes are begging me to stop, to surrender, and they convince me. In what I believe to be defeat, I kneel down to gather my things while Valerian stands behind me, unnerving me.

But I find actual defeat when I feel a raw, hard hit at the back of my head. My breath catches at the pain, and my eyes close shut. 

After a moment, I feel a careful touch in my back, Taryn. “Jude. Oh god, are you alright?”

With great effort, I turn to look at my sister. Behind her, I see them all walking away, all but Valerian, he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Yes, I’m fine.” I lie, and before gazing at her again I see from the distance Cardan, who turns to stare at me while he keeps walking.

The look on his eyes and the interpretation I have for them is only due to the head I have after the hit.

-Characters by Holly Black

#jurdan #jude and cardan #jurdan headcanon #the folk of the air #thefolkoftheair #jurdan canon #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude and cardan headcanon #i miss jude and cardan #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #cardan x jude #jurdan fic #jude and cardan fic #jurdan fanfic #the cruel prince

[laequiem]

Cheek to Cheek in Hell - Chapter 16

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Pairing: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar

Rating: explicit

Word count: 2,313

I sat back, watching Jude’s family surround her, hug and greet her, showing all manner of palpable relief just from reuniting with her.  I did hate you, I had told Jude as my lips skimmed her neck.  And as I stayed at the periphery, the aloof observer to this display of unconditional love, all the reasons why I hated her came barreling back into me.

read it on ao3

Chapter 15 • next chapter • Cheek to Cheek masterpost

I sat back, watching Jude’s family surround her, hug and greet her, showing all manner of palpable relief just from reuniting with her. 

I did hate you, I had told Jude as my lips skimmed her neck. 

And as I stayed at the periphery, the aloof observer to this display of unconditional love, all the reasons why I hated her came barreling back into me.

She killed one of us!, a spiteful part of me wanted to scream at Oak and Oriana. She left you to deal with the aftermath! 

I know better than to voice this aloud, though, knowing this heavy stone in the pit of my stomach has nothing to do with what Jude did to Valerian. I simply yearned for what she had: a family who loves her, who welcomes her and forgives her. This hatred—this yearning—is a familiar warmth, like a blanket that I wrap myself in to protect myself from the world. 

Now, as we descend the stairs towards the main floor of Madoc’s stronghold, I immediately spot the Grand General—not that hard of a task, given that the redcap is about twice my size in height and width both. He sizes Jude and me up, as one does an enemy, and crosses his large arms over his chest. 

“Jude. Come with me,” Madoc says. Our eyes meet and though his expression gives nothing away, I swear I see pity in his eyes. He adds, “Alone.”

“Yes, father,” Jude replies blankly. 

Without looking back at me, she gives my hand a squeeze and lets go. She straightens her back, her whole demeanor changing as if preparing to face an opponent: back straight, her face schooled into seriousness. Steady on her feet, she disappears into Madoc’s office, the large carved door closing behind them.

I don’t know how long I stand there, staring at the door, unsure of what to do with myself. Months ago, I would simply have acted like I owned the place, seizing the finest couch for me to slouch on. Now, unsure of my standing in court and without my friends to endorse me, I don’t quite know how to act. 

“So,” a voice I haven’t heard in a while croons. “Does Jude tie that good a knot, or are you just bad at untying them?”

I turn around to see Vivienne, Jude’s half-sister, observing me. She’s dressed in mortal clothes: frayed shorts, a cropped top that shows her stomach and the jewel adorning her navel, and a plaid jacket. Her cat eyes glint with amusement, her sharp teeth poking out as she grins. 

Vivienne and I have never been close. She is friends with my sister Rhyia, the only one of my siblings—save Balekin—who tolerates my presence, so we’ve shared the occasional myrtleroot joint. Aside from that, I mostly know her as Jude’s fun sister. 

“Why would I try to escape?” I return her grin, shrugging. “She fed and watered me.”

Her eyes dart to the hickeys on my neck, now a fading green.

“I suppose she gave you treats when you behaved, too,” Vivienne replies, winking. 

“When I deserved them,” I agree.

“That’s what Rhyia thought, too,” Vivienne says. At the mention of my sister, a shadow crosses her eyes. “She said, If Jude’s holding him captive, he’s probably already falling for her like that mortal story where the Prince turned beast imprisons the beautiful village girl.” 

“My sister thinks Jude a prince?” I snort. 

“Rhyia thought Jude was the beast,” Vivienne corrects. “You’re the gullible maiden who falls for her despite her beastly demeanor.”

I am no maiden, but her words ring dangerously true. I was told a similar story, growing up–one of a monstrous girl, and a boy who tried to spend three nights with her. The ending was different every time I heard it, but it never ended well for the boy. 

A sharp tongue is no match for a sharp tooth. A moral many have tried to hammer into me, in vain. It has done me no good to heed their warning, Jude has both a sharp tongue and a sharp tooth, and I fear neither.

“I did not realize my dalliances were such popular gossip,” I reply. I didn’t think Rhyia would even notice I was gone. “Doesn’t the court have better things to talk about?”

Vivienne’s expression gets that dark glimpse again, like a sadness she’s trying to repress. Before she can reply, though, Oak comes barreling down the stairs. His hair is a mess of golden curls, tiny horns poking out. 

I never really noticed the kid before. Every time I saw him, he was always surrounded by his sisters, and my eyes inevitably strayed to Jude no matter how hard I tried to look away. Now that I take a good look at him, Oak looks… out of place. Vivienne has broader shoulders than most high-born faeries, both from being half-human but also from her father being a redcap. Oak has none of that. Even for a child, he is small. His fine features, probably inherited from Oriana, remind me of Caelia—the pale hair and skin, the fine bones. With the horns poking out of his shaggy hair, though, all I can think of is how much he looks like what Dain must have looked like as a child. 

Oak, singing some song about how hungry he is, grabs Vivienne’s hand and tugs her towards the dining room. As they are about to cross the threshold, Vivienne plants her feet down, stopping Oak in his tracks. She turns to me and indicates the room with her chin.

“You’re coming, Princeling?”

I follow them in, taking one of the empty seats. Vivienne steers Oak to sit next to Taryn, who stops her conversation with Oriana short when I walk in. Oriana gets up and curtsies again, but Taryn simply stares at me. Over the last few weeks, I have gotten quite good at reading Jude—the worried twitch of her eyebrows when she’s trying to hide anxiety, the slight flare of her nostrils when she’s pushing down anger. Looking at Taryn, though, I am utterly lost. She looks exactly like Jude, of course, but inexplicably different. She doesn’t hold herself the same way, I suppose, her whole demeanor more submissive. I can’t decipher the look Taryn is giving me. Perhaps suspicion, perhaps hatred, though it looks nothing like Jude’s version of hatred.

I will always hate you, Jude promised me. Her hatred for me has always been the constant I rely on, like the sun after the rain—or the storm breaking the dull monotony of a clear day. When everyone else looked at me with contempt, her hatred burned into me. I hated myself for yearning for her, but one look at her reminded me that she hated me, too. In the Mortal Realm, as I started to accept the inescapable depth of my feelings for her, her hatred was a comforting reminder that she did not feel nothing for me. 

As servants—fae, all of them—bring the food, Jude enters the dining room with Madoc close behind, both of their faces blank. I try to catch Jude’s eye, but she avoids my gaze. She sits on the empty seat next to me as Madoc takes his place at the head of the table.

The ambiance is tense, reminding me of my own family’s meals. As a young child, I wasn’t welcome at the table. After Balekin took me in, however, I started attending. Some nights were full of petty squabbles and thinly veiled insults, but most were like this: the air buzzing with static, as if it would only take a single spark for it to explode. Gone is the happiness everyone felt at Jude’s arrival. Even Oak, despite his childish naïveté, looks at his plate like it’s crawling with worms. 

It’s Vivienne who breaks the silence, raising a goblet of wine and saying, “To Jude being back.”

We echo her words and dig in. The meal is a mix of mortal food and faerie food: hash browns, scrambled eggs, but also large fruit platters and colorful pastries. I fill my plate almost entirely with fruit and pastries—as much as I liked eating mortal food, I have missed Elfhame’s fresh fruit, the sweetness of unprocessed sugar. 

Oriana and Madoc make idle talk as we eat, while the siblings stay mostly silent. 

“Aren’t you one of the princes?” Oak eventually asks me, his mouth full. “Why are you here?”

“Oak! Manners,” Oriana snaps, her blue skin turning a dark shade of purple.

“Jude brought him here,” Madoc answers for me.

“Why?” Oak asks. 

This time, it’s Taryn who answers. “Because Jude always needs to win.”

Oriana takes a long drink of her wine. For a beat, no one says anything. Silence stretches until Jude spears a piece of melon with her fork, harder than she needed to.

“Win?” Jude echoes. Her eyes drift to her twin, feigning ignorance. “What for? Is there something you forgot to mention?”

She slowly moves her gaze to the engagement ring Taryn wears on her finger, an unbalanced thing topped with a large fire opal. Taryn quickly folds her hands together, hiding the ring with her right hand. I bite my lip to suppress a smile and lean back in my seat. Locke would love to be here to see this. The petty part of me loves it, too. Jude is a force to be reckoned with, a creature made for vengeance. I know it from experience. 

“Locke chose me. Get over it,” Taryn snipes.

Jude pops the melon piece in her mouth, chewing slowly. After swallowing, she answers, “Disappointed you didn’t take Cardan for a spin before me?”

“Jude!” Oriana gasps. 

Jude ignores her. She’s acting calm, but I can tell she’s boiling with anger. Taryn blushes, her entire face reddening. She looks away from Jude, her eyes meeting mine momentarily. As much as I know I should stay out of this, I can’t help it—I wink at her. Her ears turn red, and she turns back to Jude.

“I thought you hated him!” Taryn blurts out. 

“I do,” Jude snaps defensively. 

“Are you with him,” she points a finger at me, “to be one step ahead of me, or because you know you’ll never be a knight? Princess Jude,” Taryn mocks with a flourish of her hand. 

“That’s enough,” Oriana snaps. “You’re both dismissed. Go to your rooms.”

Since I am not dismissed, I bring a pastry to my mouth—only to be yanked back when Jude grabs my tail as she storms away from the table. Still, I finish my bite of pastry. Jude gives my tail another yank and I get up, brushing crumbs off of my shirt before turning to her and following her out of the room. The twins blatantly ignore each other as we climb up the stairs and split ways at the top, Taryn going off to her own room while Jude drags me to hers. 

Jude slams the door behind us.

“I take it your conversation with Madoc went… well?” I ask, doubtful.

She throws open the doors to her closet, taking out an empty bag and a change of clothes.

“I don’t trust him,” she says. “We have to go.”

I frown. With a few long steps, I close the distance between us and snatch her wrist, stopping her as she reaches for a pair of hose to throw in her bag. 

“What did he say?” I ask. She pulls on her hand, but I hold her tight. I grab her shoulder and make her face me. “Talk to me.”

She’s doing the same as usual, trying to strategize by herself. I don’t mind being a pawn in her schemes, but I would rather not be left in the dark.

“They’re all dead. Your father. Your siblings—except Balekin.” At this, I exhale, the vise that was tightening against my heart suddenly loosening a tad. “He is looking for you. To crown him.”

“I’ll do it,” I say, not missing a beat.

“No,” Jude says as quickly. “Madoc—he has a plan. I don’t… I don’t know who, but he knows of another heir. He wants you to crown them.”

I’ve never heard of another heir, but then I start thinking of people Madoc could have access to. It couldn’t be the human twins, nor Vivienne—who is clearly half-human. With Locke’s recent engagement to Taryn, he could be the one… but Locke doesn’t have any ties to my family. He has always taken pride by being the complete opposite of his father: cunning, polished, at the center of every courtly intrigue. Madoc’s wife, Oriana, used to be one of my father’s consorts. She never bore him a child, though. This leaves only …

“Oak,” I gasp. “It’s Oak.”

The blond hair. The horns, so much like Dain’s. Mab’s bloodline isn’t the only fae bloodline with animalistic features, but all of her descendants have them. Jude’s eyes widen as she takes the information in. She swears under her breath.

“We definitely can’t stay here,” she blurts out, panic creeping in her voice. “He wouldn’t hurt Oak, but I don’t know if he would hurt you.”

I want to tease her, but my mouth goes dry. She cares for me, she fears for me. 

“We could go to Hollow Hall,” I suggest.

She looks at me like I grew an extra head. “Balekin’s there. He would hurt you.”

She has never asked about my scars. She has never said anything, and yet… she knows, doesn’t she? I want to protest that Balekin wouldn’t, that he was simply making me stronger. But I’ve seen strength with Jude. I’ve seen love. I’ve felt love. What Balekin did was not it.

I sigh. “I know a place no one will look. We shall need a few blankets, it might get chilly.”

---

tag list: @figonas @kingandfireheart @godgavemelou @adxmparriish @hazelsheartsworn (<- the best beta <3) @zumurruds @inconspicuoussophia @idonotcareaboutyouropinion

#the folk of the air #the cruel prince #tfota #jurdan #judecardan #tcp #folk of the air #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar

[cruelprincae]

@bcbliophile sent from “SUNDAY” THEMED PROMPTS

bath:     for our muses to share a bath together.

Beringed and slender fingers undo one-half of a ram's braid, held together by numerous pins and jewellery that confine the brown, curly strands of hair into such a faerie-like shape that he places upon the extravagantly carved stand to their right before proceeding to repeat the same motion to the other. At first, though held by nothing in particular, the hair remains upright and points in many different directions before it begins to unravel and slides down bare shoulders, directly into the lavender and petal-adorned water of the bathtub, wetting only the rough ends of its very tip.

He should probably trim those, Cardan thinks as his hand gently combs through the long strands from the top to the floating ends. Tatterfell, the maiden imp tending to Jude's needs since the moment she entered Madoc's stronghold and to this very day still in the Palace of Elfhame, has taught him how to style hair into the sophisticated faerie-like ram horns that Jude fancies as per his request ― something she was particularly begrudged about, deeming that her services were much needed somewhere else rather than playing hairdresser with the High King, in her exact words ― and though Jude has allowed him to braid her hair each evening ( possibly to avoid Tatterfell's irksome-spoken advices ), he much doubts his wife would let him near herself with anything as remotely dangerous as a well-sharpened pair of scissors. Though she has proven she loves him and trusts him, despite all odds, her trust apparently does not extend that far and Cardan would be a fool to press his luck further than he already has.

Albeit she has refrained from murdering him during the events of the coronation, the Fae is near certain that if he dares to do so much as destroy her hair, the one asset Jude uses as a way to make herself look as one of the Fae, he would not live to see the next dawn.

Still, he finds himself wishing to try. Perhaps it is those games, the spark of danger that keeps the passion ignited between them like burning coals, and Cardan would not wish to have it any other way.

❛ I will be very frank and admit that when you walked in naked and proclaimed you wished to take a bath with me, I much hoped it would not be a bath in the literal sense. ❜ The High King hums as long digits gather the brown curls in his grasp and carefully move them over one shoulder, to reveal further of her exposed back. Seated in between his legs, the water of the glass-strained bathtub reflects against her olive skin like a thousand little diamonds and bounces around in small dots of light similar to the flying pattern of sprites, revealing ever so slight cuts and scars that he assumes are a result of her long years of training by Madoc's side or the battles she has thrown herself into with little other than a thought. Absolutely beautiful. Leaning in closer to her body and allowing his hands to rest upon her forearms, Cardan presses his lips against the surface of her neck, tracing soft and feeble kisses down and across her shoulder blades, in a way that he leaves not an inch of skin unattended. ❛ There is time yet until the revel tonight. I urge you to reconsider. ❜

#bcbliophile #( bcbliophile | jude ) #( 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 ┊ main ) #( this was so old but i did it regardless enjoy <3

[acourtofcouture]

An Insider’s Guide to the Folk of the Air: the Lake of Masks, 2/?

#the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the lost sisters #how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories #the folk of the air #the folk of the air trilogy #folk of the air trilogy #folk of the air #the folk of the air series #folk of the air series #an insider's guide to the folk of the air #the lake of masks #lake of masks #insmire #insmoor #insweal #madoc's estate #the milkwood #madoc's stronghold #hollow hall #the palace of elfhame #palace of elfhame #the crooked forest #crooked forest #locke's estate #insmire island #the isle of might #Isle of might #jude duarte

[im-someone-i-guess]

wilting of Elfhame

[Part Two]

a jurdan fic written by ryhanna

word count: 1455 words

prompt; "Ok this is fanfic request but can you make a fanfic TWK during Jude’s exile. 5 years later Jude is about to get married to a mortal man and a remorseful faerie cardan begs her not to" requested by @fantasyfox10123

part one

Jude landed on the Isles of Insmire, near the building that was once Madoc’s Stronghold. Now it was abandoned, green ivies wrapped around the stone. She had not packed much, just an extra set of clothes, food that would sustain her for a few days and an assortment of knives. Jude decided she would make her way to the Palace, but not today.

She was tired enough from the hour ride to be tempted to sleep right there on the grass but something caught Jude’s eye. The wildflowers looked wilted, and the grass around it was turning yellow. Cardan could not lie, and yet Jude had not quite believed him.

“What happened?” she whispered into the darkness. Jude had been sure there was no one in her presence but she heard a familiar voice drawl, “Well, my daughter, you have managed to break the High King so thoroughly. I’d be rejoicing if not for the bareness of these lands. Even if I were to conquer, there would be nothing left.”

Jude pulled out her sword, pointing it at Madoc’s throat. He did not seem surprised, just pleased. “How exactly does the High King affect the land? And how did you know I’d be here?”

Madoc grinned, “I promise to not hurt you, child. I came here to see how you’ve been. The High King announced your pardon yesterday, right after he came back from your wedding. I’m happy for you, but I also heard that it did not go so well.” Jude didn’t want to wonder how he knew. “The Undersea are not pleased but they are aware of our suffering. And as to how the High King affects Elfhame, I’m sure you’ve heard of the tales? The young king is still reeling from heartbreak.”

Jude had heard tales of such but it was quite overwhelming to hear how she had caused all this. Still, it was satisfying to think the faeries were so helpless.

“It was not I who announced my Exile, does he not have enough bravery to march down to the mortal world and call it off himself if he so wanted me to be back home?” Harsh words that would no doubt scandalise Oriana if she were here. Though if Jude were to consider it, there were many things Oriana would be scandalised about.

Years ago Oriana had even warned her against having any relationship with Cardan at all, a warning Jude had not kept in mind until it was too late.

“One can plant the seeds in the soil but if the seeds do not want to flourish, they will not.” Madoc replied. “Then he'd only be filled with guilt for forcing you to be here after roughly throwing you out.”

Jude nodded absently, caught up with a flurry of thoughts. She was here in Elfhame now, but what after? She couldn’t waltz back into the Palace, couldn't take back her place as seneschal. Jude didn't even know what the terms of her freedom were. She didn’t want to risk venturing near the sea, afraid Orlagh might simply blast her out of spite.

“Jude, are you listening at all? I worry for you, child. So you are free to venture through the Isles, now what shall you do?” Madoc put his hands behind his back, in a casual manner that usually means not-so casual words were to come. “I have a proposal for you, Jude,” Madoc told her, trailing behind Jude with a hidden smile.

“Elaborate.”

Jude felt Madoc’s smile widen, she knew he was pleased that she was willing to hear whatever mad proposal he had concocted. “Win his heart again. They say a faerie's heart can only love fleetingly but a heart hurt and wounded would stay like that. Revive the Isles to what they were so I can wage war and have a splendid throne waiting when I win.”

Jude sensed Madoc would've waged war either way, he was attached to bloodshed and would remain that way regardless of whether he'd get the throne. But perhaps Madoc decided he should simply bid his time, await Cardan to finally drink himself out of the sorrowful state. Then, Madoc would have victory and yet still hold the alluring power that comes with the throne.

“What's it to me?” Jude asked. She was anchorless, yes, she would be wandering around the Isles searching for a purpose. But that didn't mean she would gladly find her purpose in helping Madoc by reconciling with Cardan. She had something else in mind, something along the lines of murdering the pitiful High King of Elfhame but perhaps Madoc’s reward would tempt her otherwise. After all, she could simply request Madoc to spare her the killing blow.

“Are you interested?”

“Not quite.”

“Then I doubt I'd do much to change your mind. You are like a wraith, you have no idea what you want, willing to wander for eternity searching for something that might not even exist. That boy has ruined you, so thoroughly that I have no doubt you only have revenge on your mind.” Madoc sped up ahead to open the door. The house looked just as Jude remembered. “Vengeance is a platter best served cold. It's already something you can cook up without any help of mine but perhaps you'd like a side dish to accompany it?”

“Go on, Madoc. There is not much to lose if I only hear you out, you think I can achieve such a feat but what will happen once win his heart? Cardan is one of the last descendants of Queen Mab, one of the two remaining faeries who has the bloodline that could inherit the throne. Oak is completely out of the picture with no inclination to become High King, how shall you pull this off?”

“You have no right to know of my plans when you have not so much as agreed.”

“I shall not agree until I know what I am agreeing to! Besides, you're in desperate need of my help since without it your only chance would be to wait all this out. By then Elfhame would be an empty wasteland.”

“Fine. I intended to retrieve Oak but now that you've mentioned how Oak has become, I'm starting to doubt the efficiency of my plan. Especially since Oriana would not be pleased if I forced Oak onto Elfhame and into the chaos of war. But perhaps…” Madoc paused, removing a speck of dust Jude could not see. “Make him bound to you again, we shall take the throne together.” An ambitious thought, a more naive Jude would've immediately agreed to help but now Jude was sceptical.

“What then? I could simply betray you.”

“And do what? You would've betrayed me as well as your lover, have ruined the one chance of living a simple mortal life with a mortal lover, and refused to patch things up with your sister. All you have left is Vivienne who will simply take you in out of pity for you would have no one else.”

“I see the reasoning behind your words but I still see no desire to participate in this war and to fight on your side. I’d be content with power if I had conquered it. Tempt me with something more alluring, Madoc or I shall refuse to hear the rest of your plight.” Jude was tempted to kick Madoc out the door as well but it is after all, his own Stronghold.

“I'll offer you a piece of your past, one that I will swear to be fitting to my request once you agree. If you do not find it suitable then I shall reveal another piece.”

It was as if Jude were a dog to throw treats at but she could not help the gallop of her heart as she heard Madoc mention a piece of her own past. Not many could say much of what truly happened to her parents, they did not know what happened. And the little of those who do are not willing to spare the pieces as if it were a piece of taboo; not ever to be mentioned. Madoc must've noticed the interest in her eyes that Jude was desperately trying to hide.

“Then we have a deal?” The answer was quite obvious but Jude nodded anyway. “Very well. I, Madoc, swear to you, Jude Duarte, that in return of you tying the High King to your word of command and winning his heart, I will grant you a piece of your past that if on occasion you find not suitable to the price of my request, then I shall gladly reveal another.”

Jude nodded, half in a daze as she eyed Madoc’s menacing smile.

#fanfic #ry writes #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jurdan #books #booklover #booklr #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar

[puffballlofdoom]

What if Locke snuck into Madoc’s bedroom instead of Taryn’s

Locke felt a chill running down his spine. After all sneaking into Grand General’s stronghold without getting caught is no mean feat! Stars flickered, the sweet scent of roses was floating in the air. The breeze was as warm and moist as sin. That night the boy turn into a brave knight from a ballad, a fearless knight going to save a fair maiden from the clutches of a genuine monster. Locke was definitely no fighter, so instead of sword he wielded just a beautiful lyre. Wasn’t it a weapon enough to conquer the girl’s heart and pluck the red flower of her virginity?

The lad looked up and grinned, noticing the balcony door was open. Locke climbed a blooming apple tree, hopped on the balcony and snuck into the spacious bedroom. Liriope’s son raised his brows, pretty surprised with severity of the chamber he found himself in. How could ladylike, gentle Taryn live in this cell, lacking in any decorations, except from banners and two sabers on the wall? There were a very few pieces furniture in the chamber – only a carved wooden closet, a bedside table, a massive mahogany desk and a chair that looked pretty uncomfortable. In the middle of the room there was, four-poster canopy bed. Locke looked again at the crossed sabers. It isn’t Taryn’s room! – He realized. It’s Jude’s! He couldn’t have committed  a luckiest mistake! The boy smiled to himself, took the lyre off his back and sat on a wooden chair. Yes, it actually was extremely uncomfortable. That was Jude all over! Beautiful, full-figured Jude, anxious to become a knight and willing to get used to harsh conditions.  Locke looked at the bed with amused indulgence. He wouldn’t have guessed dainty Jude snores so loudly. Liriope’s son uttered a mirthful laughter then hit the strings with his fingertips and began to sing.

Oh lady fair, daughter of clay

I came to wash your tears away

A slave enthralled with your bright eyes

Effulgent lips and well – shaped thighs.

I came to sweeten this lonely night

Aching to hear your lovesome sighs

Leaving behind all of my shame

I came to taste you, oh my flame.

The canopy billowed, Locke shivered with excitement. Just a little while and he’ll have one of Grand General’s precious daughters in his arms. The boy was glad that instead adorable mellow Taryn he would taste fierce, hard-hitting Jude, as tart as sour cherries. What a lucky mistake – Locke thought once again. He couldn’t have been more wrong!

From behind the curtains emerged a tall man of sturdy arms and tousled fair hair. His gaping nightshirt revealed countless scars on his broad chest, his golden, split-pupiled eyes were glinting like the sharpest of blades.

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?” – Madoc yelled, getting right up to Locke in a single bond. The boy tried to draw back,  making the Grand General even more furious. At the drop of a hat Madoc whipped Locke’s beautiful lyre off the boy’s hands. “How dare you break into my house in the middle of the night willing to solicit me, you pervy little shit!” – The redcap growled, taking a swipe. Locke sprang back, spun around and make a step towards the window. The Grand General followed him. “Have you no shame? I am married!” – Madoc exclaimed, “Married! Married!” – He gnarred, swinging the lyre as hard as he could. Locke, startled and panicked, apparently had stumbled the way to get out of Grand General’s bedroom. “Married!” – the redcap cried out, “And the fact that my lawful wedded wife went to see her mother does not entitle you to seducing, I mean harassing me!” This time Locke failed to avoid Madoc’s strike, the lyre hit his head with a thud.

“I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget, you no good layabout!”- He exclaimed, hitting Locke again and again. “I swear, you’d never feel like breaking into decent people’s abodes and molesting the master of a house again!”

“Have mercy, Lord Grand General, Have mercy!” – the boy squeaked. “Trust me, forcing myself on you was the last thing I wanted! I came to visit your daughter Taryn!” Madoc froze, as though he was  stricken lifeless with a thunderbolt. Taking this opportunity, Locke  dived through the window and scampered off into the night. The Grand General sighed and picked up a sheet of paper that had fallen out of the boy’s pocket. To his displeasure, Madoc recognized his seal and Taryn’s handwriting.

“You have a son, you watch the son. You have a daughter, you watch the entire neighborhood”, - the redcap sighted and headed forward Taryn’s bedroom. It was with a heavy heart that the Grand General knocked at the door.

“Give me a second, I’m coming,” – the redcap  heard his girl’s sweet voice. Thank gods you’re not, -Madoc thought, not without malice. After a while Taryn, flushed and wrapped in her far-too-fancy dressing-gown, showed up at the door. She looked every inch a demure young lady, yet the Grand General was not that easy to deceive, at least not after he had heard Locke’s stupid, dirty song.

“What’s the matter, Dad?” – Taryn asked, innocently fluttering her eyelashes. The Grand General said nothing, just showed his daughter the letter.

“You have understand, Dad, that I am not a little girl anymore. And I can’t help I’m pretty popular with boys,” – She chirped.

“Yes, I agree, you aren’t a baby girl anymore, so you must be aware you put your good reputation at risk. You can also guess your mother and I don’t want our daughters to become an object of either derisions or malicious gossip. You ought to leave the Isles of Elysium for some time, I mean until the rumors die down,” – Madoc said matter-of-factly. To his delight the mortal humbly hung her head in shame. Corners of his mouth curled in a smile – it seemed like Taryn, essentially a good girl, realized her mistake, but the truth was the young woman lowered her gaze so that her father wouldn’t see immense relief written across her face. A trip to a foreign court? Is it actually a punishment?  - She though, surprised. He’ll probably send me to the Court of Termites, where I will be dancing at revels, dally with fairy knights, and most of all, Jude is not going to spoil my fun.

“Where am I supposed to go, Father,” – She asked with anticipation, hoping Madoc won’t hear happiness in her voice.

“Can't believe you’ve actually asked me this question, Taryn,” – the Grand General raised his eyebrows, “Of course you will head over to the Court of Teeth where your aunt will start teaching you the military arts and battle strategies. Admittedly Grima Mog doesn’t agree with many of my views, but she’ll certainly help you get this Locke boy out of your head and in your spare time, she’ll teach you how to cook.”

“Say what?” – Taryn exclaimed. “Anything, please, anything but that!”- She cried out.

“It’s already settled, my girl. Tomorrow you’ll pack up and go to the north. Off to bed, you need to get some sleep now,” – He said crisply and departed with the feeling of a well-completed duty.

#fota #tfota fanfic #holly black #crack fic #madoc #madoc x locke #locke #taryn duarte x locke #taryn duarte #the lost sisters #tcp #jurdannet #i am childish #jurdannetrevels #in love with a monster

[hazelsheartsworn]

THE IMPOSTER CROWN - 25. REST IN PIECES

Part 25 of "The Imposter Crown" (Link to Masterpost and AO3)

A Jurdannet Folktober 2021 Story by hazelsheartsworn

Jurdannet Folktober 2021 - Day 25. Rest In Pieces @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels

Read Part 25 Below or on AO3! Word Count: 1684

Read Part 24 (Tumblr, AO3) or Read Part 26 (Tumblr, AO3)

Summary: Jude is completely alone. Taryn and Nicasia have left for the Undersea, Cardan still rests with the Court of Shadows in a coma, and Jude still needs to figure out more information about this Red Rogue. She feels lost and broken, a failure. What happens now?

Taryn’s sudden departure has shaken me, the uncertainty of her survival, my guilt that she’s hurt because of me. I can’t stay here at the shore, so I get up and start to wander. Muscle memory pulls me toward Madoc’s stronghold and on my way, I skirt around the Lake of Masks.

I stop at the familiar shoreline, but when I lean down to view my reflection, no face looks up at me in return.  Instead I see those infernal hairs trailing across the surface of the water, breaking the smooth surface with constant ripples. As I stare across the lake, I can see intermittent faces blinking up at a blank sky.  All that magic splintered across the lake and wasted. It feels too personal, this broken lake, like a perfect analogy for my fractured kingdom, my fractured life.

I feel broken, even though Cardan’s magic made me whole again. I defeated Locke, the latest assassin sent to kill me, but at what cost. Losing Taryn in the process will be a Pyrrhic victory, a loss that makes any success I’ve accrued hollow.  Perhaps the balance is already skewed.  My family is split in all different directions, my reign feels untenable, and my husband, even when I was right in front of him, remains so far away from me. And at what cost— for my ambition? What good is power and survival if I’m alone and constantly running away from the next attempt on my life?

Ugh, I think to myself, am I just being dramatic or is this train of thought accurate?  I flop onto my back and prop up my bent knees.  It’s soothing at first to watch the clouds drift by, focusing on the mixture of blues and white across the sky rather than listen to my moping inner monologue.  I think back on my train of thought, trying to out-rationalize it.

Am I actually broken and wanting?  No, no I’m not.  Other than the small knick on my shoulder from Heartseeker, I am fully healed.  I look at the scar on my palm, from when Dain coerced me to stab myself.  I trace a hand over my pant leg, where the long scar trails down my thigh.  No, even with these wounds, I have never yielded to the role of frangible human. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Is my family split up?  Well, yes, but for safety. It makes sense why we’re apart and, if I really think about it, I do believe Taryn will be fine. Perhaps it’ll be good for her to catch up to my scar count. As for Oak, well, Oriana will defend him with her last breath, and that’s if my enemy takes on the whole palace guard and Court of Shadows, too.

Is my kingdom lost? No, certainly not yet. The land has not rejected me outright and I’ve managed to hold everything together so far. Even if the Folk are only listening to me since I am married to Cardan, well, I’ve ruled alone temporarily before.

But never this long. When Cardan was cursed as a giant snake, it was sorted in a week, in three days.  This has been building for over two weeks, with Cardan incapacitated almost 7 days. Some odd garbled sound bubbles out of me and I realize that I’m trying to hold back tears, thinking about my husband hidden away in a plant casket. Even if I defeat this Red Rogue, will he come out of his coma?  Will Cardan ever return to me in earnest?

‘SHUT UP, ’ I chastise myself.  I’ll never have any chance at saving Cardan if I submit to this wallowing. I scrub my hands across my face, willing my thoughts to reset.

‘ THINK. ’ Think of all the clues; magic, strong enough magic to enchant hair, zombies, and even people.  That’s stronger than an ordinary fae magic, dabbling in necromancy and beyond natural forms. Cardan said something about “spun from spider silk and nightmares,” a phrase that tickles at my memory. What else did he jabber about? Rogue Red, feet stepped backward. Why does that remind me of a revel?  And a gift freely given caught before it was a trap.

I sit straight up.

A cloth as black as the night sky that could turn away any blade. A gift meant to ensnare Cardan in marriage. Mother Marrow.  But she has gray hair and bird-like feet. I think harder. Oh. Her Daughter— with red hair and feet turned backward. She must have magic, like her mother. And Mother Marrow told us that she was very old, as old as the bones of the earth, she said.  How old is her daughter then?  Old enough to have studied ancient magics around the world?

I try to calm myself, but my brain keeps connecting too much at once. If Mother Marrow and her daughter, what did she say her name was, at the last revel we had? Malu. So, if Mother Marrow and Malu wove that special cloth from spider silk, that would explain the giant spiders sent to attack me, like the one that killed Clip and injured Cardan.  And the control of nightmares would explain Cardan’s coma delusions.  Red Rogue seems so obvious now, given Malu’s red hair.

I’m relieved a bit.  Even just knowing my enemy eases a bit of the tension across my shoulders. Maybe I can make a plan or at least think through some strategy instead of going through this totally blind.  I huff out a laugh, feeling accomplished after two weeks of not having a face or name to put to the Red Rogue.

As if my luck has sparked a small flame in me, I look back into the Lake of Masks and Mother Marrow herself stares up at me. Her face is stern and worried and it seems like she’s actually looking at me.  She’s mouthing one word at me.  It takes me a full minute watching her before I recognize that she’s saying Malu’s name.  When she sees that I’ve gotten that right, she starts miming out combing her hair. When I say, “hair” back at her, she starts pointing at her hand, the one doing the combing.  So, I question back, “comb?”

Apparently I am very good at charades via a magical lake mirror.  Mother Marrow seems relieved, as if she never thought she could get through a dense and dull mortal’s brain.  For her next pantomime she holds a hefty dagger, or at least, it seems hefty as she traces its imaginary outline with an all too murderous glint in her eye.  I unsheathe Nightfell and hold it before her as my guess.  She shakes her head and starts gesturing to my back. To the other sword. I put Nightfell back in its place and unsheathe Heartsworn instead.  She nods vigorously.  She then takes her imaginary blade and thrusts it right at her imaginary comb in the other hand.  The fake comb breaks. Mother Marrow pulls her hands down both cheeks drawing out her face with a look of anguish. She makes several grimacing faces, pretends to gasp for air, and, after placing a dramatic hand to her forehead, collapses out of the image.

I’m a gullible fool and I lean forward to look for her.

But she does return, eager to see if I understood her acted-out message.

“So, I should take Heartsworn,” I gesture again with the sword, “and strike some comb of Malu’s until it breaks?”  I act out the scene as I speak aloud.

It seems I have it right because she gives me that matronly nod of approval; the begrudging endorsement of an old woman.  But it’s short lived, because she throws something at the reflection and knocks me square in the forehead.  Soothing the sore spot with my fingers, I grab the floating nut from the water surface.  Just as I turn back to her to give her a salute of thanks, the surface ripples and she disappears.  I’m so far past magical logic, I don’t care how Mother Marrow has found me in this lake, given me the exact information to scheme the Red Rogue’s downfall, and managed to cross the magical threshold to give me one of her token spells.

Part of me wonders if this is a trap between the two witches. Regardless, it’s still the best lead I have, so I start making a plan.

I crack open the walnut and out pours a silvery gray gown, the livery of Hollow Hall servants. Interesting.  I rearrange all of my blades to try and hide them.  It’s bulky, but I end up strapping a sword to each hip and cut slits in the fabric for easy access.  If I’m to pretend to be a human servant, then hopefully no one will pay me much attention.

Just before I set off toward Hollow Hall, I fill a small satchel with soil and tie it to my belt, eager to have any advantage whatsoever.  Even without Mother Marrow’s aid, it becomes more apparent that Malu is squatting at Hollow Hall.  Hairs crisscross the trees and shrubs in greater concentrations. I can see glowing eyes of watchful spiders following my progress from the dense underbrush.  None of them stalk after or attack me, so I’m certain I’m meant to walk into this Red Rogue’s web.

I walk up unscathed all the way to the building.  I’m about to go to the front, eager for the familiar greeting from the door, but remember my ruse.  As a servant, I’d enter through the back, by the kitchens.  I feel like I’m reliving my first trial as Dain’s spy, trying to sneak into Balekin’s home to find useful information.  But tonight, I am not here to spy or sift through encrypted correspondence.  Tonight, I enter a witch’s lair to prove my mettle and save my kingdom.

I look around for some sign of encouragement, but nothing gives me reassurance.  It doesn’t matter.  I steel myself internally, take on the appearance and gait of a glamoured servant and I enter.

#jurdannetfolktober2021 #jurdannetrevels #jurdannet #jurdan #jurdan fanfic #tfota #tfota fanfic #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the folk of the air #Mother Marrow #a good bit of self-doubt to this chapter #it comes from experience.... #b writes into the void #my folktober fic

[elephart-hi]

The Mortal Maiden: Witch!Jude

Chapter 4: A Trip Down Memory Lane

summary: Jude slapped herself hard. Her ears ringing from the blow. She furiously wiped the hot tears that had fallen, telling herself that she didn’t need the memories, that they made her weak. Jude was not one for nostalgia. She never would be. With her heart locked back in its armor she mounted her riding toad and kicked it to a start.

Rating: Mature but not explicitly till later chapters!

AN: this is a shorter chapter! it was supposed to be the end of the last one but it was too long so I extended it.

also no beta for this chapter tee hee

Ao3 Chapter 1 2 3 You are reading Ch 4

The stairwell let out at the stables just as Darnel had told her it would. She could tell by the color of the sky that it was late afternoon already and that dusk would be only a few hours off. She still needed to get to the spy’s keep, report to Dain, and then back into her bed before Tatterfell came to wake her for her classes.

She was running out of time.

Jude hides behind mounds of hay and horse feed as she waits for the stable hand to get near. Impatient, she throws a pebble into one of the horses’ pens, and the steed whines out. The half-fae immediately comes over to see what’s wrong but Jude gets him in a headlock before he can, pressing down on a pressure point. She holds him till he stops struggling and passes out, then drags his body behind the hay where he will either wake up or be discovered.

Jude eyes the horses wearily as she leaves, recalling the time in the mortal world when she was seven and was thrown from a horse the first time she had ever ridden one. The whole ordeal had left her scared of riding the beasts. At the time hadn’t been an issue since mortals used cars and public transit to get to places. Once she came to Elfhame, however, her slight phobia had become an issue since they were the main means of transportation. She can ride a horse fine now, but she still gets unsettled when they go too fast or get agitated.

As she makes her way into the woods, towards the fallen tree where she had hidden her riding toad, she thinks of how silly it was that her fears from her childhood remain with her even after she had grown accustomed to the horrors of fairyland. Jude could poison herself nightly, stand face to face with cruel princes and live in the same house as her parents’ killer without faltering… but she couldn’t ride horses too fast nor she couldn’t stand the sight of cockroaches. She can’t even get close enough to one of the bugs to kill it yet she has taken a life before!

Jude laughs to herself as she recalls a memory of her cowering on a table in the stronghold demanding that Oak kill one for her. He had looked at her like she had grown a third head and then became equally terrified of the bugs himself. He claimed that if Jude was scared of cockroaches then he absolutely wanted nothing to do with them; convinced that they must be creatures of unimaginable horror to be able to frighten her. Oriana had been furious at Jude for the whole debacle, claiming that she had planted the notion into his head and was purposefully trying to frighten him. Taryn and Vivi had laughed themselves hoarse at the whole thing as the mighty Grand General Madoc had to come to squash a bug for her. He helped her down from the table while eyeing the nub on her left hand, chuckling, ‘You can lose a finger and not say a word but you can’t squash a bug, my dear?’ She had laughed and placed a kiss on his cheek then asked if he was going to dip his cap into its guts to claim his kill. The whole family laughed together, Vivi had to wipe tears from her eyes. Once they were done laughing till their stomachs ached they had made their way to dinner. For a beautiful moment, they were all able to pretend that they were a normal family.

It was one of her fondest memories in fairyland; her heart squeezed at the warmth it brought her.

Jude started, wondering why she had even thought of it. The memory brought joy but always ended bitterly when she remembers why they will never be a normal family. She wasn’t one for nostalgia; more often than not it brought her nothing but pain and heartache. The stars must truly be in a foul mood tonight to make her remember.

She reached her riding toad, and pets the creature fondly; it was far more her speed than any horse would ever be. Jude had no problem riding one of these. Even when their large leaps and bounds were, by all means, more frightening than the steady trot of a horse. Jude would actually argue that riding one was thrilling, the terror making it all the more terrific. The toads did not frighten her… but horses still did.

All because of that one time when she was seven and her family had taken a road trip to a ranch…

Memories from the trip threatened to bubble up and consume her and Jude tried to force them down. She didn’t want to think of how her late parents had comforted and fussed over her after she fell. She didn’t want to think about all the fun her family had had, or how she and Taryn had counted how many cows they saw out the window to make the drive go by faster, or how Vivi came up with backstories for the cows while their parents chimed in. That time of her life hurt too much to think of.

Jude felt her throat constrict and her eyes sting.

“Ahhhgg!’ Jude screamed at herself. Why did the stars hate her? Why must they make her think back on all of these painful memories?

Jude slapped herself hard. Her ears ringing from the blow. She furiously wiped the hot tears that had fallen, telling herself that she didn’t need the memories, that they made her weak.

Jude was not one for nostalgia. She never would be. With her heart locked back in its armor she mounted her riding toad and kicked it to a start.

The toad leaps through the woods, over boulders and dodging trees with grace and ease. Jude, however, gets jostled and knocked around from its back, far less grace being felt as the rider.

As they raced towards the spy’s keep, Jude distracts herself from her past with the knowledge she gleaned from the mission. One thought chiming in time with her heartbeat.

Magic, Magic, Magic.

Maybe Jude could be more than a mortal, or swords master, or a spy…

Maybe she could be magic.

Maybe she could be a witch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cardan bends down and picks up the peculiar object from the floor. It was one of the mortal things that had fallen from Jude’s pocket. The label read, ‘colored contacts: yellow.’

“Sooo,” Darnal drawled at him from where he had locked Cardan in his chambers, “what did I miss while I left the two of you alone? Clearly some good came of my meddling”

Cardan gave him a look. Did he really think Cardan would fill him in after what he did?

Cardan turned his back on him, tucking the mortal object into the pocket of his riding cloak. Perhaps he would use it as an excuse to speak to her tomorrow at school. He heaved a sigh, knowing he wouldn’t. She would probably stab him if he tried to, or she would tell everyone what happened.

‘How will Balekin react to you sullying yourself with a lowly mortal like me,’ she spat at him. Cardan didn’t want to think about it. He wondered if Balekin would move past threats and actually cut off his tail for it. He felt it wrap around him in comfort, now freed from his pants since Jude was gone.

Darnal heaved a sigh and spoke once more, his face moving to a door closer to Cardan’s field of vision, “You know why I helped her escape, Cardan. I had to after I heard you speak of witchcraft.”

Cardan knew this. He knew why Darnal was cursed to guard the manor.

“There was a time when no one turned their head up about caring for mortals you know. It is not a bad thing to care for her,” Daral continued when Cardan said nothing.

“That time has long past my friend,” Cardan said. The door was his friend Cardan thought. Probably his only genuine one, but the doorknocker only stayed and treated him kindly because he was trapped in Cardan’s home. He didn’t doubt that Darnal would want nothing to do with him if he was free from his bonds. Cardan sighed thinking of the course of events that had taken place five centuries prior that led to his entrapment.

“I’m sorry about your lost love,” Cardan said as he made his way under his covers.

Darnal’s dead lover was the reason that mortals were no longer welcome among the folk. She was the reason that the age of witches belonged to the past…

Truthfully, Balekin was more to blame than anyone else. But the victors were the ones who tell the stories, not their victims.

“She looks like my Elith, your Jude,” Darnal says quietly, Cardan can hear the heartache in his voice that hadn’t diminished in more than 500 years, “She has the same fire in her that Eli did,”

“Does it pain you to see us together then?” Cardan asked, knowing how he and Balekin resembled one another.

“Some,” Darnal admits. After a beat, he adds, “but not much. I like to think you would care for her better than Balekin cared for his wife. You are far better than your brother, Cardan.”

The words bring comfort but not much. The prophecy from his birth says that he will be far worse than Balekin.

“Good day, my door,” Cardan says after a long pause, closing his eyes to get a few hours of rest before school, his stone heart heavy in his chest.

“Sleep well, my prince,” was the last thing Cardan heard before he drifted away.

Ao3

Previous ch 3

#jurdan fanfic #jurdan #my writing #tfota fanfic #tfota

[castrumtocastle]

THE PICTURESQUE RUINS OF CRICCIETH CASTLE

Criccieth Castle, also known as Castell Criccieth, is an extraordinary castle that truly captures the hearts of all who visit. It sits high above Tremalog Bay and is a timely reminder of all that transpired between the Welsh and English to define medieval times. While it may seem serene and beautiful sitting up there, it has a controversial and intriguing past that has been full of mishaps and detrimental instances.

The history of Criccieth Castle

There are a lot of inconsistencies surrounding Criccieth Castle and while we may never know the whole truth, what we do know is particularly daunting. A tale of trial, error, sieges, and plenty of speculation surrounds Criccieth Castle and all of it happened in only a small amount of time. On the surface, we have astonishing views and a beloved castle, but below the surface, it becomes so much more.

The early history of Criccieth Castle

This wonderful and rustic stone castle is said to have been started in the 1230s and is suspected to have been built by Llewelyn the Great. Llewelyn the Great was a Welsh prince who held plenty of power over the castle and many other things. He built the original structures of Criccieth Castle himself, however, in 1240, Llewelyn the Great died which in turn created a large amount of disaster.

When Llewelyn the Great died, it meant that there was room to replace him as a strong ruler. This caused King Henry III of England to fight for supreme power and overrule everyone much as Llewelyn the Great once did. He then proceeded to cause a further ruckus by depriving Gwynedd of control over all of the land’s east of Conwy.

Portrait of Llywelyn The Great

Incarceration at the castle

Once Llewelyn the Great had passed, his sons began to resent each other and started to fight. Dafydd ap Llewelyn proceeded to hold his brother Gruffydd as a prisoner at Criccieth Castle. Though we aren’t sure if that is the first instance that the castle has held a prisoner, it certainly wasn’t the last time. Two decades later, Llewelyn ap Gruffudd (son of Gruffydd ap Llywelyn 1200–1244) incarcerated prince Maredudd ap Rhys Gryg.

Gaining control

It was a whole decade later when Gruffydd ap Llewelyn’s son, Gruffudd, gained control and began to fight for Gwynedds domination once again and fought ruthlessly with the English ally, Maredudd ap Rhys Gryg who was later imprisoned in the castle. After all was said and done, Gruffudd won the battle and by virtue of the Treaty of Montgomery from 1267, the Welsh and English both readily accepted him.

Though this success didn’t last very long, because soon after, more disaster arose. Gruffudd could not resist entering into more conflict but this time his arrow was aimed at the new king of England, Edward I which then resulted in a war that sent Criccieth Castle to the sidelines.  

The First War of Welsh Independence

The First War of Welsh Independence (1277 – 1283) begun when Edward I declared Gruffudd a rebel and sought to destroy him. It was then that the English started to invade Wales. English armies swarmed from all over to defeat the princes and gain power and it ended in the defeat and annexation of the remaining Principality of Wales.

Afterwards, Gwynedd was the leading principality and all of the princes had gained control over most of the country. This resulted in the remaining Welsh Princes their vassals and gained the title of the Prince of Wales.

Edward I of England

The Battle of Llandeilo Fawr

Once again, war erupted between England and Wales in to an explosive extent. Edward I had essentially planned to send his large armies into Wales in the fronts to surround Llewelyn ap Gruffudd’s army and destroy them. The English army, led by Gilbert de Clare, was then sent to subdue and hold down the southern areas while the other armies were sent elsewhere.

Gilbert de Clare and his large army had easily captured Carreg Cennen Castle from the Welsh and soon after, the men sacked the castle and later headed back to Dinefwr Castle. Though on the way misfortune struck and they were ambushed by Welsh troops. This resulted in much of the army being destroyed.

Although this was a great victory for the Welsh, the tides of war soon turned in Edwards favour when suddenly Llywelyn marched his army south. Llywelyn was killed at the Battle of Orewin Bridge on 11th December 1282.

Edward raised a new army and in 1283, the rest of the Gwynedd castles were captured, including Criccieth Castle.

The siege of 1294

The castle, which by now is no stranger to controversy now becomes victim to a siege. In the siege of 1294, Madoc ap Llewelyn who was distantly related to Gruffudd, decided to start an uprising against English rule that quickly made its way throughout Wales. The mighty castle readily withstood this siege, however, it eventually did meet its maker in 1404, when it fell into the hands of Owain Glyndwr who had the castle walls torn down and after Criccieth Castle soon became ash when he burned it.

It stayed that way until 1933 when Lord Harlech had it granted to the government.

The construction of Criccieth Castle

There were three building phases and a plethora of different periods strictly for remodelling. It is said that the 13th century was a rather late point in time for initiating a castle and that it was particularly odd in that part of Wales. It is also fairly unusual that there isn’t much to be said about Criccieth Castle.

The earliest part of the castle is said to be the inner ward which was personally started by Llewelyn the Great himself. Unlike other Welsh Native strongholds, the inner ward at the castle was beautifully protected by a gatehouse with two D-shaped towers. Those towers were then heavily protected by big gates with murder holes in the passage and arrow slits in each tower that faced outwards.

There is a possibility that some of these features are replicated from specific English castles such as Beeston Castle and Montgomery Castle. Then we take a look at the two towers of the gatehouse that have gained significant popularity as a staple piece of the castle. They provided accommodation for a while and then were raised significantly in height in the Edwardian period.

5 Criccieth Castle facts

Criccieth Castle was built and destroyed by powerful Welsh Princes.

Criccieth Castle is said to have been built in the early 13th century, though no actual confirmation has ever been found as to when the castle was actually built, and which parts were built in which century at what time.

The steep, inaccessible, and rugged cliffs surrounding the castle particularly on the eastern and southern sides offered the castle a great amount of protection and there are plenty of terrifying areas you could fall so only the bravest would dare to conquer the castle.

The inner ward is said to be the oldest Welsh part of the castle built by Llewelyn the Great.

These days, the castle has been preserved as a magnificent ruin and has a particularly significant layout of all the defensive elements although plenty has been lost.  The ruins of Criccieth Castle are able to be seen by visitors, and you can find prices and tickets here.

#Criccieth Castle #Wales #History #Castles #Medieval

[inkandpapermagic]

Queen of Nothing: In-depth Theories and Analysis of loose ends and plot threads from TCP and TWK that still need to be addressed

    I had too much time on my hands on a summer afternoon, and since I just finished a reread of The Cruel Prince and The Wicked King, I wanted to get my thoughts together (I also am an English major and I’m starved for some literary analysis, yo). This series has so many cool prophecies and mysteries and there’s a ton of plot threads needing to be tied up in The Queen of Nothing. So, I chose a few of my favorites to over-think on.

Justin and Eva, the dumb kids who started this mess 

Justin and Eva, y’all. Justin and Eva. Ever since Jude saw her mother in the Lake of Masks, I have been dying to know the real story about these two. Jude doesn’t seem to be that curious, but during her entire conversation with Asha, I was screaming internally for Jude to shut up and let the woman talk about this mysterious pair. I could personally read an entire novel about them alone (Holly, if you’re reading this, please please please can we make some kind of faerie bargain about this?). 

In any case, there’s so many unanswered questions about Justin and Eva. I’m just going to dive right in, starting with Justin. He seems like a pretty straightforward guy-- dude just wanted to make swords. Like, really wanted to make swords. Justin was probably that kid in high school who played Dungeons and Dragons 24/7 and set the school on fire during wood shop class. He is a fictional, real-life Gendry Baratheon, and according to Taryn in The Lost Sisters, he sold his swords on Ebay.The only real hint we get that Justin may have been more than Eva’s hunky mortal baby daddy is what we hear from Grimsen: 

“Then I told him I would give him one of my secrets: He could learn the practice of a hundred years in a single day… if only he would part with something he didn’t want to lose.”

“And did he make the bargain?” I ask.

He appears delighted. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

Will we find out Justin’s bargain? I personally think he took it-- and lost his life.

Then there’s Eva, who we hear a lot about but know very little. We know that she had an idea of who her daughter would become-- but sadly, she was a bit misguided. 

“...do you know what the hag said? That Eva’s child was destined to be a greater weapon than Justin could ever forge.” 

    Of course, Eva thought this was Vivi, and Asha speculates that this prophecy might have influenced Eva’s decision to flee to the mortal world. But we don’t know that, or really anything about why she decided to leave, a fact Jude bemoans to Cardan.

“There are so many questions I wish I could ask my mom… why she married Madoc,” I say. “Whether she loved him and why she left him and whether she was happy in the human world. Whether she actually murdered someone and hid her body in the burnt remains of Madoc’s original stronghold.”

    I NEED ANSWERS, HOLLY. 

    Of course, Asha knows-- “...one or both of them killed a woman and burned the body to hide your mother’s disappearance from Madoc. I could tell you about that. I could tell you how it happened--” but she’s not telling without a reward. 

    While I can’t even begin to guess who that woman could be, I do think that Jude will consider her mother’s fate as she struggles with her own relationship with Cardan. It’s something Taryn struggled with, too, in The Lost Sisters. I also still like the theory I’ve seen floating around here that Cardan and Jude somehow end up in the mortal world together, permanently-- wouldn’t that bring things full circle. 

    Jude, Oriana, Jude’s bad life choices, and Oriana’s disapproval of Jude’s bad life choices 

    Speaking of crazy kids in love-- the subject of lovers, specifically those of the High King, is something that is explored very early on, in the first half of The Cruel Prince. Through the story of Liriope, we can understand that being the High King’s lover is a dangerous job. And since we know early on that Jude is attracted to Cardan, we’re worried for her. But it’s Oriana who inadvertadly imparts wisdom onto Jude about what she’s getting herself into. Oriana mistakenly thinks Jude is Dain’s lover, and their conversation, which at first seems throwaway and out of place, really intrigues me. First, Oriana admits she was Eldred’s lover, and tells Jude the story of Liriope. Then, she wraps up that story with a moral: 

“Hear me, Jude. It is no easy thing to be the lover of the High King. It is to always be in danger. It is to always be a pawn.” Then shit starts to get weird. Oriana says to Jude:

“If you go to Prince Dain despite my warning, if he gets his heir on you, tell no one before you tell me. Swear it on your mother’s grave.” 

    Jude, of course, swears, thinking she won’t have a problem keeping that vow. But why was that included at all? Just to show that Oriana is paranoid and crazy?

    I don’t think Jude will necessarily be having Cardan’s baby or anything like that. But I do think that Oriana’s lesson will come back to her, just as it did when she watched Eldred’s lover be murdered at the coronation. Jude has already become somewhat of a pawn-- after all, Orlagh abducted her, and Cardan bargained to get her back. And that was when she was only a seneschal. When Faerie finds out that she has become the Queen, who knows what might happen to her? 

    As for how her vow to Oriana fits into that-- I think that perhaps she will go to Oriana for help with something else. Maybe to tell her about their marriage, or ask her for advice, or even for revenge. Who knows? What I do know is that Oriana will not be having any of Jude’s nonsense. 

    “I want to tell you so many lies”-- are Jude and Cardan actually married? 

And now that we’re on the subject of lovers, let’s talk about those marriage vows. 

What really bugs me about this is that when they married, Cardan didn’t know that Jude had killed Balekin. So he had no plans to send her away when they married. Which makes me think that, in his mind, he really thought that he could crown Jude and they could rule together. The act of exiling her was just a frantic chess move to get her off the board so that Orlagh wouldn’t kill her outright. I’ve read and reread that scene, and I still come off with the impression that he was sincere. And that supposed sincerity is what brings me to the marriage vows, specifically Cardan’s. He goes first, which means that he dictates the terms of the vow:

“I, Cardan, son of Eldred, High King of Elfhame, take you, Jude Duarte, mortal ward of Madoc, to be my bride and my queen. Let us be wed until we wish for it to be otherwise and the crown has passed from our hands.” 

“Until we wish for it to be otherwise.” In her own vows, Jude puts it a little more simply: 

“Let us be wed until we don’t want to be and the crown has passed from our hands.” 

    This is interesting. If this rule holds true, than Cardan’s supposed betrayal of Jude would dictate that, if they’re truly at odds, that they technically aren’t married anymore since they supposedly hate each other. 

    Yet I think that, deep down, they both still wish they were married to the other. In that case, even though I’m sure they’ll pretend to be angry at each other, the marriage remains because they both secretly wish to remain married. 

The mermaids are out to get us 

Finally, I want to look at a little prophecy that takes place near the beginning of The Wicked King, but whose words I believe basically foreshadow the events of the entire book. 

“Spurn the sea once, we will have your blood,

Spurn the sea twice, we will have your clay, 

Spurn the sea thrice, your crown will away.” 

I think it’s safe to say that the “blood” was the drops of blood spilled when Nicasia accidentally hit Cardan while he was in bed. The clay, of course, is Jude, daughter of clay. I’ve seen several people on Tumblr discuss these theories and I definitely think that all makes sense. It’s the third line that interests me. But first, let’s go back to the Cardan’s final act of The Wicked King, when he exiles Jude. 

“Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown.” 

It all comes back to that line, doesn’t it? The general consensus is the Jude is the crown, and she can pardon herself. So how does this tie into the Undersea’s prophecy? 

Jude is exiled for killing Balekin, the ambassador to the Undersea. As a result, Cardan sends her away to the mortal world. 

“Spurn the sea thrice, your crown will away.” 

So, in conclusion, I believe that through a clever bit of wordplay, all three components of the Undersea prohpecy have come true-- in this case, because the crown, Jude, has been sent away in retaliation for her crime against the Undersea. 

        Queen Jude (doesn’t that sound amazing?)

There is one thing we can be sure of-- Jude Duarte will be queen of Faerie. After all, Baphen saw it in his stars: 

“The stars say this is a time of great upheavel,” says Baphen. “I see a new monarch coming, but whether that’s a sign of Cardan deposed or Orlagh overturned or NIcasia made queen, I cannot say.”

If you made it this far, thanks for sticking with me! I can’t contribute cool fanart but I can give you theories haha. 

And in short, this is me every day until November 19th: 

#the folk of the air #tfota #the cruel prince #the wicked king #queen of nothing #qon #the queen of nothing #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #holly black

[daddycardan]

hc about cardan in deep emotional conflict with himself

(takes place during TCP, right after jude’s faerie fruit incident

originally, i planned to include cardan’s judejudejude paper as well, but things went a lil differently)

cardan couldn’t clearly recall what has he been thinking about in the past few hours

everything was a swirling, colourful, vivid mess in his head

when jude and locke left, noggle continued the lecture

of course, no one paid attention

nicasia and valerian were whispering to each other the whole time, recalling the best parts of the little incident

jude

cardan sat silently beside them, sticking his good old sneer onto his face, trying to look as bored as possible

when the lecture ended, he hopped on his steed and left without saying a single word

he just needed time to think, to be alone, just to exist without anyone disturbing him

to reach hollow hall, he had to ride past madoc’s stronghold

he bowed his head down, stubbornly staring at his horse’s neck

he could see the lights from the corner of his vision, but never dared to glance that way

jude

when he finally arrived home, he hurried up into his room, and opened a bottle of wine

it was sweet and made his head swirl in a familiar, comforting way

he realized that he is still grasping the little golden pin in his palm

the pin he stabbed jude’s thumb with, her blood still painting it red

jude

he threw it away, and it disappeared with a flash of golden shine somewhere around his bookshelf

he stripped his clothes and sank into the hot water of his bath, still with the bottle in his hand

the next time he checked it was already empty

he tried to concentrate on relaxing

but every time he closed his eyes, jude flashed up, a colourful vision in front of his dark eyelids

jude, as the juice of everapple drips down her chin

jude, as she steps out of her clothes

jude, as she kneels before him

jude

jude

jude

the silence of the room was disturbed by her voice ringing in his ears

his sanity was disturbed by her existence

“Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude…”

the words came out not as hateful curses, but as lustful moans

he was stroking himself with one hand under the water

jude

jude

jude

she looked so soft and so curvy and so fragile

he wanted to touch her, just to make sure she really is that soft

he just wanted to feel her mortal skin with his fingers

mortal, said a voice in his head, that was not his own

cardan suddenly realized what he was doing

he got out of the water so quickly that he almost tripped over

he felt dread seizing his body and he could hardly breathe in abrupt panic

shame, heavy and hot shame burnt his face

this is impossible

he, a Prince of Faerie was fantasizing about a mortal

absurd

shameful

disgusting

jude

jude

jude

jude is disgusting

but does thinking about her make him disgusting too?

balekin would say so

balekin would strap him if he found out

the scars on his back started aching at the thought

he fell onto his bed face-down, water still dripping from his naked body

disgusting

everything is just so unpleasant about her

it makes him sick

why doesn’t she leave him alone for once?

why doesn’t she leave his mind?

his shoulders were shaking and he was crying and laughing at himself, laughing at the absurdity of this whole world

was he slowly going crazy?

when he finally drifted off to sleep, his dreams shattered the last bits of his sanity to pieces

#tcp headcanon #jurdan #jurdan headcanon #the cruel prince #cruel prince #the folk of the air #tfota #cardan #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #jude duarte

[laequiem]

Cheek to Cheek in Hell - Chapter 14

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Pairing: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar

Rating: explicit

Word count: 3,400

When the Duarte twins first came to Elfhame, I did not notice them much. I was still half-feral, the Prince who stole food from the palace for himself and the toad he cuddled for warmth. One day, I realized that the humans were not servants but the Grand General’s wards. They got to go home to his stronghold, like they had any rights to live in our world. It planted the first seed of envy in me.

fanfiction masterlist • ao3

Chapter 13 • next chapter • Cheek to Cheek masterpost

When the Duarte twins first came to Elfhame, I did not notice them much. I was still half-feral, the Prince who stole food from the palace for himself and the toad he cuddled for warmth. One day, I realized that the humans were not servants but the Grand General’s wards. They got to go home to his stronghold, like they had any rights to live in our world. It planted the first seed of envy in me.

It wasn’t until they attended school with the Gentry that they shifted from Madoc’s mortal daughters to Jude and her sister. My hatred for them sprouted, especially for Jude, who would not show me the deference everyone else did, as if she knew I didn’t deserve any of it. Her defiance was aggravating. Out of all my classmates, she was the only one who refused to let me win. Our sparring matches were vicious, and though I often ended up winning, she fought until her arms started to shake with exhaustion and her feet could barely hold her up. I had never felt something as strong as my hatred for her until then. I craved her presence like one feels the urge to touch a flame despite knowing a burn will follow. 

Even when she was at our mercy, that day my friends pushed her and Taryn in the river, she kept defying me. So focused was she on disrespecting me, she failed to notice she was bothering the nixies enough for them to consider her for a snack. When I saw the shapes dart away from the group towards her, my rotten heart twisted painfully. On that day, I understood that I wanted to be the only cause of her pain.

We will break you, I had told her that day. You’re a fragile little thing.

It was the closest I have ever been to telling a lie. I had convinced myself of its truth. That, by her being born a mortal, she could only be weak. I did not know what I know now: Jude Duarte never breaks. 

 It was when Jude and Locke started stealthily brushing hands and stealing kisses that I realized the true depth of my feelings. I wanted to hurt her, yes. More than anything, though, I wanted her. My hands had ached to close into a fist and punch Locke right in his treacherous face for taking someone I love away from me again. Because I was utterly in love with Jude Duarte, there was no denying it. 

She ought to have killed me, that day she snuck into my room. Every day I have spent alive since then, I have only grown more besotted. While I used to hate myself for loving her so, I now struggle to understand why I ever tried to deny it. My friends would laugh at what I’ve become. Balekin would beat the life out of me if he knew what I was about to do. Hopefully, Jude will kill me before I can embarrass myself in front of others. 

It’s early afternoon when I get back to the apartment, carrying my heart in a Moon in a Cup tote bag. The apartment smells faintly of coffee, a drink that Jude has started drinking since moving here. She says it wakes her up, and I can see why: it’s so bitter that she has no choice but to wake up. I can only stand it with two spoonfuls of honey and about as much cream as can fit in my cup. Jude drinks it ‘black’—though it’s more of a dark brown, like her eyes in dimmed light.

Jude sits cross-legged on the couch, a mug of coffee in one hand and a murder mystery book she borrowed from Maureen in the other.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” she asks, not even looking up from her page.

 I didn’t tell her that I took the day off. I also did not tell her that I was going to work, so I did not have to lie. I simply slipped out of bed when she was still asleep. I bite my lip to suppress a nervous smile and take the white box out of the tote bag. 

Jude finally looks up from her book. I can see the gears turn in her mind as she looks from the box to me. “What’s this?” she asks.

She puts her mug and book on the table, and I hand her the box. 

“A gift,” I tell her. “Happy Birthday, Jude.”

Her eyes widen as she looks at me, then at the box, then at me again. When she opens the box, the gasp she lets out is so pure, I wish I could bottle it up.

“Cardan, you—” she starts, but stops herself.

Inside the box are four small tarts filled with custard, the top lightly browned and dusted with powdered sugar. 

“Pastéis de nata. Your favorite, right?”

One morning before work, I stopped at a small café to get myself something to eat. Moon in a Cup, it turns out, is owned by a pixie named Kaye. A place where both worlds meet—the perfect place to have the pastries made for Jude. So I called the coffee shop yesterday, asking them to prepare these natas. The barista who served me this morning had a few words to say about my kind and how entitled we are, but he was all bark and no bite. He gave me my pastries, along with a to-go cup of cornflower tea.

“Yes,” Jude answers, her voice bewildered. She takes one of the tartlets and bites into it with a happy moan. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

I remember too much about her, but thankfully she doesn’t know that. 

“Your actual gift, though, is this,” I tell her, presenting her with a bundle of fabric tied with hemp rope. 

Jude frowns at me again, then unwraps it. Hidden under layers of thick fabric, a dagger rests on her knees, the blade protected by an ornate sheath. Jude wraps her hand around the handle and unsheathes it. Her brows bunch together in confusion, then her confusion turns to understanding, and she laughs. 

“Cardan,” she says, reading the name on the blade. 

This time, I can't control my smile. Let her see how proud I am of this little stunt. The blacksmith is a regular client of McNamara Jewelry, always looking for lesser cuts of stones to add to his work. As soon as I saw examples of his work, I knew he was the man for the job. 

“When you decide you’ve had enough of me,” I explain, “you now have a blade to kill me with.”

Jude runs a finger along the blade, tracing the letters before running a finger along the sharp edge, testing it. She’s silent for too long, I fear she can hear my heart beating furiously in my chest. I lean towards her, hoping to taunt her to say something, anything, so that I can stop worrying that she does not like my gift. 

“Unless you don’t want to kill me anymore,” I taunt. 

In the blink of an eye, the blade is against my throat. I back a step, but she closes the distance and soon enough, I am standing with my back against the wall, the sharp edge of the blade against my throat. 

“You make it hard to let go of that particular urge,” she says, grinning. There is a challenge in her eyes, though, a hint of teasing to her voice. 

She shifts the blade so that the point digs in my chin. I have no choice but to lift my chin, then I am gazing down at her. 

“Thank you,” she croons. 

Jude has lived in Elfhame for most of her life. She knows our customs. She knows that these words should never be uttered to my kind, for they are nothing short of an insult. She knows, and that’s why she is using them just now, letting me know that she is in power and that she will not owe me anything despite my gifts. I expected nothing less. 

What Jude does not know, it seems, is that I have depraved tastes. The words stir in me a feeling not unlike lust, a desire to let her debauch me to her liking. It sends blood rushing southward, and I can’t help it—I laugh. Jude raises a brow, confused. 

“Don’t get me too riled up, Jude dearest,” I say. “As much as I would love to let you ravish me, we’re heading out.”

——

Wrath Axe Throwing is so very… human. It’s all I can think about as the attendant explains the rules to Jude and me. Rules created to emphasize safety, just like the iron cages that separate every row where others are already throwing axes at the walls. Instead of targets set outside, everything is indoors, in tight rows covered in wood shavings. There is a line drawn on the floor that we must never cross and, a few feet further, the target we must shoot. It’s a typical bullseye target, along with two small dots outside of the bullseye that are worth more if hit. 

Once the attendant leaves, I look at the axes, lined up on a table for us to use. Jude is in the row next to mine, already weighing the axes one after the other. She looks up to me when she notices me staring.

“How did you even find this place?” she asks.

I shrug, trying to act all nonchalant. “I figured you would prefer this to me taking you out to a fancy restaurant.” 

My blasé attitude falters when she turns her prying eyes on me. My lips twitch up, betraying my nervousness as much as my tail would if it weren’t trapped between mortal clothes. She studies me, squinting. I look away, trying to hide the smile widening on my face.

“First one to get to 20 points wins,” Jude calls, her voice full of challenge.

Jude rolls her shoulders before grabbing the smallest axe. She tests its weight, rolling her wrist. As she braces herself to throw, my eyes are glued to her. The tanktop she is wearing leaves nothing to the imagination–her arms are fully on show, biceps flexing as she holds the axe above her shoulder. When she throws, my eyes stay glued to her back, watching the shift in her shoulders muscles.

“Bullseye,” she says as she whirls to face me, pride glinting in her eyes.

She looks at me expectantly, nodding towards my own target. I swallow hard, then turn to face the target. 

Since the incident that left me banned from the palace, I have neglected my training in sharpshooting. My chances of beating Jude at an accuracy-based contest are slim, and there is no world in which she will let me win. I would not have it any other way, of course. I aim my axe for the bullseye and throw. I hit right outside of it, in the 4 point zone. 

Jude’s next axe mirrors where mine just went, while my second one hits bullseye. 10-10. We don’t stay tied for long, however, because her third axe hits bullseye again, while mine barely makes it to the largest ring. 1 point. 

At 16-11, my chances of beating her rely on those blue dots outside of the bullseye, two eyes gazing at me and taunting me. A killshot, a redemption, worth 10 points, because missing the dot means that I get no point. 

“If I hit a killshot” I ask her, already aiming my shot so I don’t have to look at her, “will you go on another date with me?”

“So this is a date, then,” she says. 

“Of course,” I reply. Jude lines up her shot, her arm readying for her throw. “This is how courting works on this side of the ocean, is it not? I take you out on dates, then you may agree to be my lover.”

Jude’s throw goes wide, the axe embedding itself in the floor at the foot of the target. I concentrate on my own throw, the axe heavy in my hand. The only axes I have left are some of the heaviest ones and though Jude missing her throw gives me another chance to hit a bullseye and be ahead, I have already called what I plan on doing, and I won’t back down.

I breathe in deeply and, on the exhale, I swing the axe, releasing when my wrist is parallel with my ear. It hits the left dot, splitting a crack down the middle of it. 

I turn to Jude, grinning widely, “I win.”

Jude is simply staring at me, her eyes wide. She blinks, her eyes focused on me. I don’t think she even looked at my throw, and I feel a pang of disappointment at that. 

”You want us to be... lovers,” she says carefully, as if she does not quite believe it.

Only now do I realize that my palms are sweaty. Her disbelief has my heart beating harder, like it believes that she’ll reject me. I turn my back to her and go retrieve the axes I threw from the target board. 

“Yes,” I finally answer, when my back is to her and she can’t see my face.

When I place the axes back on the table, I realize Jude’s eyes are still on me, tracking my every movement. 

“Romantic partners,” she clarifies, her voice low. “Not just sex.”

“Ideally,” I reply curtly. 

I should be flattered that the idea of being my sexual partner seems less alarming to her than being my lover, but I can’t bring myself to appreciate it. I want more.

“Exclusive partners,” she says, her voice still full of disbelief.

I chuckle at that. “Well—I will not be taking other lovers, but if you must...” I shrug, straightening the axes on the table to give my hands something to do. “I will take what you will give me. I knew you were with Locke, but I did not realize you shared his—” 

“If you finish this sentence, I’m walking out,” Jude snaps.

A bell rings, indicating the end of our hour-long session. We make our way out of the throwing center, stopping at the checkroom to grab our coats. 

“I thought you hated me,” Jude mutters as I hand her coat to her. 

“As much as you hate me,” I reply teasingly, slipping on my own coat.

Her silence as we walk back to the subway station weighs on me, but I let her think, looking up at the overcast sky. Were I more superstitious, I might be worried at the sight of the stormy clouds on the day I decided to ask Jude out. I was born under cursed stars, however, and too much of my life has been dictated by fate already. If Jude rejects me, it will have nothing to do with the universe, and everything to do with me. 

Jude’s silence stretches longer still as we make our way to the underground tunnels of the subway. It’s as damp and gloomy as ever, stinking with iron. I concentrate on the lavender scent of Jude’s dreadful 3-in-1 shampoo, the sound of her steps on the concrete. I adjust my coat under me as we sit on a metal bench to wait for the subway. 

When Jude finally speaks, her voice sounds almost bitter. “No romantic date can start things over between us, Cardan. No amount of gallantry can make me forgive you for what you’ve done to me over the years,” she sighs. “Who’s to say this isn’t another one of your ploys to hurt me?” 

I huff a small laugh, then turn to her. I grab her hand in mine.

“If I hurt you, you would find a way to hurt me back,” I run my thumb over the scar on her palm. I look down at our joined hands as I continue, “You would break my heart.” 

“Break your...” Jude starts, but I stop her with a squeeze of my hand. 

“I love you, Jude.” I lift our joined hands and put it over my heart. “My heart is yours to break.”

“Cardan, I…” Jude starts again, but she trails off. She looks… unsure. I can’t say I blame her. 

“I don’t expect you to share my feelings,” I specify, letting go of her hand. “I have not made myself easy to—”

Before I can make more of a fool of myself, or because I am making a fool out of myself, Jude closes the distance between us and kisses me. Her lips are confident, nothing like the way she kissed me that first time. Her hand cradles my chin and I let her take the lead, pliable under her touch. I reach for her, my hands searching up her arms until I find her hair. With no maid to put it up in intricate braids, she has been wearing it in messy buns and simple ponytails. It’s no hard task to slide my finger under the hair tie and pull until her hair falls in brown waves. 

When she kisses me, it’s like her humanity seeps into me. I forget the stink of iron around me, I forget everything about Elfhame and how anyone back at court would react to me wanting her. I forget about Balekin taunting me about her. She is all I want, and all I need. 

My hands drift to her waist and Jude takes it as an opportunity to straddle me. She towers above me, divine in both power and beauty. With the salty traces of sweat on her skin and her hair falling in unkempt waves, she fits the look of a war goddess, and I the lost soul seeking her wisdom. Nothing matters but her—I hear the train coming into the station, stopping for a few seconds, and leaving again. I ignore it and prop Jude up on my lap, my hands on her ass, delightfully firm beneath tight jeans. 

“Does this mean you will let me be yours?” I ask against her lips, breathless.

Unless my imagination is wilder than I thought, Jude wants me. She’s attracted to me, but I can’t figure out what she wants. I meant it when I said I would take what she gives me, but I am greedy, and I want all of her. 

Jude bites her lip ever so slightly and nods, her cheeks darkening to a red-tinged shade of brown. A warmth blooms in my chest, an unknown feeling that I never knew I needed in my life. When I kiss her again, I can’t stop smiling against her lips. With every movement, our teeth clack together, and my smile widens. It’s an awful kiss, yet it’s the best kiss I’ve ever experienced. My heart is a restless thing in my chest, but it’s swollen, pride and love filling the shriveled husk. 

Jude pushes at my shoulders half-heartedly. I don’t want to, but I pull away.

“We should probably head home,” she says, nodding towards the incoming train. 

She makes no move to hop off my lap, however, so I carry her inside.

We kiss the whole way home, ignoring those around us who groan in annoyance. To me, there is only Jude, her hands tangled in my hair and mine on her waist. Our walk from the subway to the apartment takes twice as long as it usually does. We keep stopping, pushing each other against the nearest wall and clawing at clothing until the frigid wind reminds us to find shelter, to get home.

We finally make it to the apartment. I fumble for my keys while Jude fumbles with my belt, until she grows annoyed with how long I’m taking and grabs my keys from me. She turns to the door and freezes, swearing under her breath.

“This can’t be good,” she says, moving out of the way so I can see what she is looking at.

Hanging around the door handle with a red ribbon is an acorn, riddled with holes as if some parasite had made a meal out of it. I don’t need to open it to confirm, I know what it is. 

It’s a message—a threat. Someone from Elfhame has found us.

——

Tag list: @figonas @kingandfireheart @adxmparriish @godgavemelou @hazelsheartsworn @zumurruds @inconspicuoussophia

#the folk of the air #tfota #jurdan #judecardan #folk of the air #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the wicked king #holly black #c2c #elfhame