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shadowturtlesstuff · 3 years

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A day dedicated to Jude

I was looking through my google docs and found a random jurdan fic so i quickly edited it. Enjoy

We are alone, walking through our rose garden as the sun starts to set over Elfhame. There is another revel tonight, like most nights, but tonight serves more of a purpose. At least it does for my husband and I. A few weeks ago I accidentally told Cardan my birthday, and so he took it upon himself to organise a revel in my honour. He thankfully neglected to tell people why it was honouring me; he has just claimed that he can honour his wife whenever he likes. Which made me smile despite the fact I did not want any sort of attention around my birthday. Perhaps just by my sisters, Oak, Heather and Cardan. Alas, tonight I will dine with Elfhame and my husband and dance and try to enjoy my night.

Cardan had refused to go to meetings and made sure I wasn't able to attend any, either. Again missing the reason behind his actions. The Court of Shadows knows, we spent time with them drinking, until the Bomb and Roach decided to spend the rest of the day in the mortal world until tonight. The Ghost has disappeared in search of my twin most likely. So we had spent the day in bed, over a year of being married, of being High King and Queen together, and the simplicity of the day had been strange to us both. Cardan had become used to it far faster than I. Yet I will admit I did enjoy doing nothing, worrying about only my husband, which I always did but there were no other worries alongside it. It was nice. As much as that thought would've scared me in the past it does not now. I welcomed relaxing on our bed and resting my sore muscles.

My stomach has healed nicely from where my father stabbed me. Often I find Cardan tracing the line when we are in bed together. His face is always lost in thought when I find his hand absentmindedly caressing the line. He has expressed his hatred for Madoc many times, which is completely understandable. So when I find him in that state I simply take his hands and reassure him I am okay, that we made it.

I take his hand now, which surprises us both but he smiles. It was his idea to walk together before we entered our party. Even though we spent today together alone, he wanted one more time with me. So we've dressed ready and are walking slowly together. "Thank you for the revel Cardan, even though I specifically told you I didn't want to celebrate." I feel his pace drop and he turns and faces me. I have not explained why I wished not to celebrate but with Cardan I didn't need to. He understood that it was a reminder that I was mortal; one of my many shortcomings. Fae do not age the same ways as mortals, and my life would end far faster than Cardans'. It was a reminder I was running low on time to spend with my husband in the peace that we'd worked so hard for.

"And I told you that I simply cannot just ignore your birthday. It is a day where I can tell you how much I adore you and you cannot stop me." It never ceased to amaze me how much we have both changed by opening our hearts to each other. He kisses my hand and pulls me into a hug. Cardan, I have found out, loves to cuddle. He will do it any chance he gets. Not that I mind it, often when I feel his arms snake around me whilst I’m working I welcome the small break it offers.

“Very well husband, I supposed we should go to the party.”

“Your party.” He counters and I nearly shake my head at his antics.

We walk hand in hand together, the guards open the doors for us and we make our way into the main hall. All eyes turn to us. I spot my sister with the Ghost, Vivi and Heather on the other side of the room dancing together already. Taryn left her child with Oriana for the night and I’m sure she was complaining about not being with him. Cardan and I have only seen my nephew a handful of times. When Cardan held him for the first time his eyes had held promise for our future. Both of us had not been raised as a child should be or in a way that prepared us to be parents; but we both held hope that we’d learn together. I know Cardan would be the most loving father a child could ask for.

Cardan leads me to my throne and instead of going to his he sits on the arm of my chair. He refuses to leave my side, and whilst it isn’t strange for him to sit here, I fear that our people will figure out why this is in my honor and that Cardan is being more of a husband than High King. Most revels we have roles to play, to appear menacing and diplomatic and everything people in charge should be. Cardan is more open with gestures of love than I am, yet I can’t help but think of all the things they could claim when it is just a mortal birthday he’s celebrating.

It is a long time before Cardan and I have a peaceful second with each other. People have been coming to us all night, to show respect as they always do and to try and figure out any information about tonight. They haven’t. I am tired even though I have done nothing all day. I would happily spend tomorrow in bed with my husband if I didn’t have more meetings that I pushed back to have today off. Cardan is still sitting next to me, and I’m half tempted to fall asleep on him despite being in front of everyone. Instead of doing that I grip his elbow. He’s currently gesturing to some fae I didn’t realise appeared so taking his hand would only annoy the fae he’s talking to. So I settle for the elbow and he wordlessly slows his hand gestures until it is just his left moving. Then eventually that stops and the fae has left us all alone and Cardan is facing me. I give him a small smile, and he returns it. “Do you want to leave?” He asks.

I sigh. Yes, I do. I want to be in bed with him holding me as I do nothing. But I know I can’t get into that habit no matter how much I now wish to. “No, we haven’t even spoken to my sisters yet and I think they’ll hang you if I don’t see them at all.” I tell him and then laugh when he panics. “I’m kidding, kinda. I mean, if they don’t at least wish me happy birthday then they’ll be a bit angry.”

“Let’s go find your sisters then shall we?”

We find Taryn with Vivi and Heather instead of the Ghost and I am immediately embraced by them all. They whisper happy birthday so that everyone around us cannot hear and then Vivi notices that Cardan is just standing awkwardly watching the four of us hug and insists that he joins us. Somewhat reluctantly he wraps his arms around me and Taryn and joins our hug, finding a way to press a kiss to my head. Despite my tiredness, and I suppose my stubbornness, to not celebrate my birthday I smile at the people willing to tolerate me in this way.

“How’s your little one?” I ask Taryn as we all move from our hug. The fae are all listening and hovering but I don’t really care too much.

“He’s getting so big, you two must come see him soon. He misses his Uncle Cardan.” This makes Heather giggle as Cardan winces. He doesn’t mind it but would prefer not to be called that here. When we got home and spoke about it he kept repeating Uncle Cardan like he still couldn’t believe he was a part of our family. As messed up as all of us are, I am happy we faced so much to find this life.

“When we were with him yesterday he squeezed my finger and I honestly nearly had a heart attack.” Heather, ever the dramatic, going into more detail about the time she and Vivi spent with Taryn yesterday. Because Taryn lives alone she often has my sister and her girlfriend around often and if me and Cardan didn’t have to work to run a kingdom I’m sure Cardan would be with his little nephew all day.

I feel Cardans' hand move around me and he holds me in a side hug as we listen to our family. Again he kisses my temple and this time I rest my head on my husbands' chest and smile. “Happy birthday my Wicked Queen.”

(i’m using normal tags so if you only read my cressworth sorry)

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @ink-insomnia @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto @bookscressworth @androgynousdeputylawyershoe @fandomtakeover @throneoftsc

#tfota #jude #cardan #jurdan #cruel prince #wicked king #queen of nothing #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte

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nightspeckle · 3 years

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Jurdan Summer Au part 2

Description:

Cardan and Jude have been summering with each other since they were babies. They have spent every summer at the beach together but they have never been friends, until now.

Part 1

*****

Jude woke the next morning to the sounds of the ocean waves and seagulls squawking. The sun from the window was heating her already pink skin. She could hear her family from downstairs, they were what woke her up. Back home she would have been infuriated and yet at the beach house, she couldn’t care less.

When she looked over to Taryn’s bed it was already empty. Of course.

Downstairs Madoc and Vivi were eating breakfast in the kitchen. When Jude got closer she could hear them bickering again.

“Vivienne, how many times do I have to tell you to get a job?” Madoc was pushing his eggs around his plate in a menacing way.

Vivi just sighed “I have to work on my art portfolio if I have any chance of getting into the art school I want. I just don’t have enough time.”

Madoc went to open his mouth again and Jude decided to step in before it turned into the screaming match it had been for the past few weeks.

“Where’s Taryn?”

“Guess” Vivi supplied and Jude knew exactly where she was.

“Great,” Jude huffed while pouring herself a bowl of cereal.

When Jude sat down she saw Vivi was still in her PJs. “What are you doing today?”

Viv smiled apologetically at Jude, “I’m going to the studio in town to get started,”

Madoc cut Vivi a glance that reeked of disapproval before shifting his focus to Jude.

“Why don’t you come with me and Eldred, we’re going on a hike to dragonfly cove,” Madoc looked gleeful at the prospect of spending the day with his daughter.

Jude could think of a hundred things she would rather do than go hiking with two old dads.

Madoc could sense Jude's lack of desire and scrambled to entice her. “I’ll enforce a mandatory family dinner on Taryn tonight if you come,”

Jude knew that it wasn’t exactly very cool of her to want to force her sister to spend time with her. But it was only their second day at the beach and none of her work friends were out of school yet, so although it was selfish she didn't mind.

“Alright,” She mumbled. Madoc’s face turned giddy.

“Perfect we're leaving at 9:30, so hurry up,”

Jude looked at the clock on the stove to see it read 9:15 and just rolled her eyes before polishing off her cereal and heading up the stairs to go change. She just couldn’t wait for a hike with her dad and his old friend!

...

When Jude piled into the back of the jeep she didn’t expect to see another child who had been roped into this hike. Cardan had his head rested against the seat. He didn’t say anything as Jude climbed back into the seat.

When Madoc jumped into the passenger seat he cracked a smile at Cardan. “I see Eldred must have bribed you into joining too,”

“Bribed?” Eldred asked while he started up the jeep.

“I bribed Jude so she would come along, did you not?” Madoc asked.

“Of course not, I just made him,” Madoc looked at Eldred as if he was a genius. Jude just prayed Madoc wouldn’t get any ideas about forcing her into family bonding. That would not go over well.

The top of the jeep was off and Jude's ponytailed hair started to flutter around her. She had almost forgotten Cardan was there while she watched the world around her pass by.

“What did he bribe you with?” When Jude turned back to Cardan she could see a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. He had put an arm around the back of the seats and tilted to face her more.

Jude was immediately embarrassed as she had agreed to Madocs terms. She didn’t want anyone else knowing how she was using her dad to make her sister spend time with her.

When it was clear Jude was not going to spill Madoc piped up from the front. “I promised to make Taryn come home for dinner tonight,”

Jude slumped back into her seat with a sigh feeling defeated. She expected Cardan to comment on how pathetic that was but when she looked over at him he was smirking.

“I should probably thank you for that,” Cardan said playfully.

“It’s what friends do,” Jude jokes.

The smile Cardan sent her way was nothing like she had ever seen from him. He was looking at her like they truly were friends, like being able to smile together was normal.

Jude was starting to wonder why she had spent her childhood constantly writing him off. She had never liked how he disregarded her when they were younger. She had always felt that he thought that Jude and Taryn were beneath him.

But the way he was acting now made her question everything in the past. Maybe she was wrong about him.

Jude spent the rest of the drive to dragonfly cove with her fingers dangling out of the jeep. She spent her time getting distracted by the passing green trees and the feeling of the summer sun. The only thing that kept drawing her attention back to the car was the constant terrible sound of her father's and Eldred's voices singing along to their summer reggae playlist.

She couldn’t help herself but make eye contact with Cardan when both of their fathers voices cracked. Cardan laughed then, the sound filling Jude with a certain lightness. She couldn’t help but laugh herself.

Jude was having a much better time on her Dad's usually boring adventures. When Jude looked over at the black haired boy next to her she knew he played a larger role in it than she wanted to admit.

This was not good.

...

Dragonfly Cove was not a particularly popular place to hike. The reason for that being that there was one trail. It went from the parking lot down to the beach 50 feet below. The path to the cove event consisted of a set of wooden stairs with rails on both sides.

If you were to ask anyone outside of the Greenbriar and Duarte families they would say that Dragonfly Cove is not a place to hike. Instead, they would refer to it as a small beach that required a short walk to reach.

If you asked Madoc and Eldred they would tell you that Dragonfly Cove was the best place to hike out of anywhere in the area.

If you asked their children they would tell you that hiking at Dragonfly Cove was toeing death itself.

If after taking the path and stairs down to the beach, one were to travel to the end of the beach and climb over a massive rock they would be able to see the “hike” that Madoc and Eldred had taken their children on years prior.

The “hike” consisted of climbing up an extremely steep slope made of unstable rocks and ledges. There had been many close calls of falling in the past. Orianna had even forbidden Madoc to try and reach the top of the cliff ever again.

Now standing at the bottom of the cliff Jude was thinking that Madoc should listen to Orianna much more. She was certain looking up at the incline that she would face certain death.

Eldred and Madoc had already taken off. Surprisingly for their age, they seemed to have no problem scaling an unstable cliff.

“Afraid Jude?” The smug voice to her left startled her.

When she turned to look at Cardan she saw the amusement in his eyes.

“It seems even the fearless Jude herself is afraid,” He looked to be enjoying the way Jude was squirming at the idea of climbing up the cliff.

She kept having flashbacks to the time a rock had given way under Taryn's feet. Jude had had to lunge to grab her sister's arm before she could tumble all the way down.

“No need to worry Duarte, I’m sure we will be back down soon if you want to wait,” Cardan said with mock reassurance. Jude could tell by the look in his eyes that he was enjoying taunting her.

Cardan took off towards the rocky slope without looking back. Jude’s hesitance at hiking the steep slope disappeared the second Cardan had alluded to her inability to do so. Jude Duarte was not one to ever be bested. She would show him.

Jude spent the first half of the “hike” solely paying attention to her feet. She refused to make a misstep or stumble.

She could see how effortlessly Cardan was making his way up the incline above, she would not do worse than him.

By the second half Jude had mastered the art of scaling a steep incline. She was doing so well that she even passed a delighted Madoc and enthusiastic Eldred.

Jude's mood improved even more when she looked back to see Cardan a good distance behind her.

She couldn’t help herself when her foot slipped the tiniest bit. “Are you alright down there Cardan?”

Her smile grew when he sent her an annoyed look. “I’m sure your Dad would help you up the rest of the way if you want to wait,”

“I’m quite fine Duarte,”

Cardan had gotten closer to catching up to Jude as they continued but she didn’t mind. She had still made it up there first, which was all she cared about anyways.

The two of them stood at the top of the cliff looking out at the ocean quietly for a few minutes. They didn’t say anything to each other until they heard the telltale signs of their fathers down below.

They both looked down to see Madoc and Eldred huffing for air and stumbling on the rocky terrain. It was amusing to watch their overconfident fathers falter on the hike they claimed toddlers could do.

Jude watched Eldred slip on a rock and immediately looked to Cardan. When they made eye contact they couldn't help but burst out with laughter.

After waiting for Madoc and Eldred to catch their breath at the top they headed back down. Jude found the descent to be extremely easy in comparison and managed to beat everyone down to the bottom. Cardan was in her heels the whole time but that was a fact she would choose to omit if anyone asked.

Cardan continued to tease her (mainly about how she had walked into a pool of water without realizing) as they made their way back to the car. She had used to believe his teasing to be annoying and insufferable and now she couldn’t help but smile every time he had a snarky comment.

Jude was on the verge of pinching herself every ten minutes. She couldn't believe she was actually enjoying herself.

Madoc and Eldred decided it would be fun to go on an hour long drive by the coast. Something which Judge was surprisingly happy about.

They stopped on the way back at a farmers stand selling fresh fruit. Jude bought blueberries for Viv and a few peaches for herself and Taryn. Oak was in an anti-fruit faze at the moment. The discovery that tomatoes and olives were fruits sent him for a real loop.

Jude couldn’t help but laugh when Cardan’s peach was dripping all over his face and onto his shirt.

Jude’s own peach dripped all over her when she took a bite. The taste was worth the stickiness. It was even worth Cardan's growing amusement.

When they got closer and closer to the house Jude felt something strange deep within. It was a very small sliver of disappointment. One she was not happy to find. Was she disappointed she was going home? Or was it that her time hanging out with her dad, Eldred, and mainly Cardan was coming to an end?

Whatever the reason, she decided that ignoring it was the best course of action.

When they pulled into the driveway she got out slowly. Now that she was done with her bribed time with her father what would she do? Taryn was probably still not home, Vivi was busy, and none of her local work friends were out of school.

Whatever it was that she would do, she knew that it wouldn’t be as fun as this morning, that was something extremely surprising to her.

....

Jude ended up doing some summer reading outside on the porch for a bit. When Oak came home from wherever he had disappeared off to with Orianna she supervised him at the beach.

She actually did enjoy herself but it wasn’t until dinner that she was truly having fun again. The families were eating together outside again.

She ended up sitting next to Cardan and Viv who had come home 30 minutes before. Jude had a few moments where she caught herself smiling for no reason and laughing because of the dumbest things.

Dinners usually lasted for a few hours with the families in the summers. The parents would stay talking for longer than they would anywhere else. Jude who usually snuck out after 30 minutes to do something else ended up staying for a couple of hours. It wasn’t until Viv declared she was heading back that Jude did too.

“You look happier than you did yesterday,” Viv commented when they got back to their house.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jude said amused.

“You’re smiling more you weirdo,”

Jude had been smiling more than the day before. When she looked back on the day it had mainly been because of Cardan. But there was no way that he was the reason for her smiles. Maybe it was just because he was funny.

Was Cardan funny? Jude wasn’t so sure about that.

“Oh, whatever Viv,”

Vivian and Jude broke into the moose tracks ice cream and watched a movie before going to bed. When Jude crawled into her bed it was only 11:15 but she didn’t mind.

It was only when she was about to go to sleep that she noticed Taryn’s bed was empty. Not only was she not there but Jude realized she hadn’t even shown up to dinner.

The funny thing was that Jude didn’t even care.

~~~

tags (or my one LOL) :

@big-daddy-maddy

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destiniesfic · 3 years

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i hate everybody (but maybe i don’t) 1/3

This is my @jurdannet & @jurdannetrevels Secret Snusband gift for @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves! You tapped into a story I’d been wanting to write for ages, so you get three parts and three POVs (Vivi, Cardan, and Jude). Happy Holidays, I hope you like it. ♥ Thanks to @xdarkofthemoon for betaing!

This fic is rated E. Content warnings this chapter for excessive alcohol consumption, references to alcoholism, and (prescribed) antidepressant use.

Read on AO3 or read below:

Bars in Barcelona are not especially different from bars in the US. It’s a discovery Vivi has made over the course of her study abroad tenure: everything is different on the outside, but on the inside, not so much. She does like the outsides, though. She likes the tidy streets, the way the buildings don’t rise to blot out the sun as they have a habit of doing in American downtowns. She likes the cozy sameness of the facades, broken by the whimsical surprise of the odd Gaudí contribution. Like a lot of the European cities she’s visited there seems to be some unifying design principle, some common understanding. At home it’s anyone’s guess what the next office building or apartment complex might look like, a mishmash of styles as the cities clamor to reinvent themselves, modernist or postmodernist or deconstructionist or whatever.

Heather could name them all, if Heather were here.

But Heather isn’t here. Tonight, Vivi is out on the town with her two younger half-sisters, Jude and Taryn. Her twin baby sisters, although they hate it when she calls them that. The twins’ spring breaks overlapped by happy accident, so their adoptive dad, Vivi’s biological father, had sent them off on an all-expenses-paid Barcelona trip for a mini family reunion.

Taryn had been thrilled to go out. “I’m so excited that we can drink here,” she’d exclaimed, as she touched up her makeup in the AirBnB’s living room mirror. It’s a two-bed, two-bath apartment with an updated kitchen and certainly beats the dorms. Vivi was forced to give a silent, resentful thanks, Dad, but not out loud.

“You drink at home,” Jude reminded her from the bathroom, where she was trying to wrangle her hair into some style Taryn had sent her from Pinterest. “We have fake IDs.”

“It’s not the same,” Taryn had huffed, applying another coat of mascara. Vivi got that. It had not been the same when they came to Europe before, either, because they had been with Madoc, Oriana, and little Oak. Somehow parents at the table makes the glass of wine with dinner much less daring.

Jude had eventually settled on a high ponytail, and off they went.

Now they’re out at a bar not far from the AirBnB, with each of the twins perched on stools and Vivi leaning against the bar between them. Maybe it’s because she hasn’t seen them for so long except over FaceTime, but Vivi is shocked to notice that her little sisters aren’t kids anymore. They haven’t been little for a while, not since they overtook Vivi in height when they were twelve, but it’s one thing to not be little and another to be an adult. Taryn, who’s been yearning for adulthood since her tweens, finally looks more at home in the role. And Vivi doesn’t know how Taryn got Jude into that dark purple halter dress, which dips low in the front and lower in the back, but the way she wears that and her lipstick is a stark reminder that Vivi’s sisters are in fact nineteen, and no longer chubby, soft-faced children. It’s weird, and Vivi doesn’t like it.

Vivi gets hit on sometimes—with her undercut and piercings, mostly by “alternative” men and curious women—but the novelty of good-looking twins means Jude and Taryn shouldn’t need to pay for their own drinks. And they wouldn’t, except anytime a guy gets too close to Jude or Taryn, Jude adopts a laser-eyed glare and says, “No,” which is thankfully the same in both languages. Otherwise she might start speaking with fists.

“I don’t know why you won’t let us get free drinks,” Taryn pouts.

“The drinks are on Madoc,” Jude points out, nodding to the credit card Vivi puts back in her pocket. “They’re basically free.”

Taryn mutters, “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“You guys are such sisters,” Vivi says, taking a swig of beer.

“What does that mean?” they demand in unison.

Vivi grins and closes her eyes, shaking her head. For a second she just stands there, between the twins, and lets everything wash over her: the sibling bickering, the pungent smell of beer and whatever syrup is in Jude’s cocktail, and the music. Music is a strange experience in bars here. First there’s a Spanish song Vivi’s never heard, and then there’s Halsey, crooning over a Chainsmokers beat, and then back to Spanish with perennial favorite “Despacito.” It’s total whiplash. Vivi loves it.

It’s only because she’s listening so hard that she hears Taryn give a tiny gasp.

Vivi opens her eyes. Jude has gone very, very still. Her shoulders, which had been hunched up around her ears as she leaned over the bar, roll down her back, and the muscles there tense. Vivi is not sure Jude is remembering to breathe. She and Taryn are both staring at some fixed point across the bar, so Vivi looks too.

“Oh, hell,” she says.

On the other side of the bar—of the small space they are all crammed into—are four familiar figures. Three boys, one girl. Vivi has to blink to place them, because it seems absurd that four kids they went to high school with would show up in Spain while they, the Duarte sisters, are also in Spain, and also because they weren’t in Vivi’s grade. She knows them, though. Everyone knows Cardan Greenbriar and his trio of hot, mean friends, but Vivi knows them particularly well because of how her sisters have tangled with them over the years.

Taryn whispers, “What are they doing here?”

“I can go ask,” Vivi sighs. That group of kids has no quarrel with her. She and Cardan were friendly back in the day, meaning “ten years ago when Vivi would go hang out with Cardan’s older sister.”

“No,” Jude says, voice firm. Without taking her eyes off the interlopers, she picks up her cocktail and downs the rest of it.

Vivi doesn’t know exactly what happened, but Jude shed her fight-or-flight response sometime in high school. Now, she only has a fight response. Maybe Vivi took her flight response, because it was Vivi who was the terror until she turned eighteen, when she got the hell out of dodge. Taryn has always been in the middle, trying to keep the peace.

“We can go somewhere else,” Taryn suggests.

“No,” Jude repeats, setting her glass down on the bar a little too hard. “I’m not going to let those jerks keep me from having a good time.”

“Which I respect, and more power to you, but also, like, there are plenty of bars in Barcelona,” Vivi points out.

Jude glares. “I’m fine.” And then she holds up one finger in the bartender’s direction.

“You know those are really alcoholic, right?” Taryn says. Worry begins to seep into her voice like melting snow through cracks in a sidewalk.

“I know my limits.”

Vivi and Taryn exchange a wary glance. Jude might know her limits, but she has no problem blowing past them. Jude may not think Vivi remembers the tae kwon do tournament she sat through when Jude was eleven and Vivi was thirteen, but oh, Vivi does. Vivi remembers how her sister volunteered to spar until she had tired herself out to the point where she could no longer stand. Vivi also remembers Jude driving to school on a single hour of sleep after staying up to finish an extra credit essay in a class where she already had an A. Jude somehow didn’t crash her car, but she had been unbearable the entire day. Jude is a danger to herself and very occasionally a menace to society.

But Jude is also an adult and it’s not Vivi’s business.

“Suit yourself,” Vivi says, with a shrug. “It’s dear old Dad’s money.”

A few minutes later, Jude is nursing her second cocktail, and Vivi and Taryn are trying to carry on a conversation as though everything is fine. Any normal person would be well loosened up by now, but Jude retains that unnatural stillness like a dog who’s noticed a squirrel on the other side of a yard. Or, more accurately, maybe like a deer who’s spotted a human hunter approaching over the ridge.

Jude is no defenseless herbivore, but Vivi knows half a lifetime of being bullied has made her feel like a target.

“Hey,” Vivi says, jostling Jude with her elbow.

“What?”

“Tell me about your freshman year misadventures. Taryn won’t open up.”

Jude snorts. “What misadventures?”

“You have to have a few,” Vivi says. “I didn’t raise my sisters to be boring.”

“You didn’t raise us at all,” Jude mutters at her cocktail.

Vivi has never seen her sister anywhere near drunk before and is not sure she likes her like this. “What about boys?” she asks, gently elbowing Jude again. Then she raises her eyebrows. “Girls?”

“No. Nobody.” Jude finishes her second drink and, glaring across the bar, apparently makes the decision to switch to shots. “Vivi, is vodka still ‘vodka’ in Spanish?”

“I’m not answering that.” Vivi sighs. “What about you, Taryn? Anybody?”

“Huh? Um, no.” Taryn had been looking at their erstwhile schoolmates too. One of the boys, the redhead, is looking back. Locke. Vivi exhales. Bad news. There’s history there, the kind of history that shouldn’t repeat.

“Reeeeally?” she asks. “Nobody? Not one boy?”

Taryn blinks back to herself. “Vivi, I go to school for fashion design. They’re all gay.”

“Well, that can be fun.” Vivi gestures at herself. God, she wishes her sisters had brought Heather along. The hot lady bartender with the gorgeous tattoo sleeve keeps trying to catch her eye, and Vivi and Heather had established a “what happens in Barcelona stays in Barcelona” policy before she left, but Vivi doesn’t want a hot lady bartender. She wants her girlfriend.

“Yeah, they’re cool.” Taryn glances back across the bar. Now the blue-haired girl—Nicasia, Vivi recalls—is looking back, along with Locke. Not good.

Since Jude is negotiating for a shot of vodka with hot lady bartender in competent enough Spanish, Vivi lowers her voice and asks Taryn, “Are you feeling especially homesick?”

“We’ve kept in touch.” Taryn doesn’t meet her eyes.

Vivi would hold more of a grudge if someone had tried to sleep with her and her sister, but that’s very much not her circus or her monkeys. She asks, “Did you know he’d be here?”

Taryn shakes her head. “He said they were doing a European tour for spring break, but, like, it’s a big continent.”

“Good news,” says Jude, holding up a shot glass. “It’s vodka in both languages. Cheers.”

“You are going to be sick,” Taryn says.

Jude gives her a sarcastic shrug and then downs the shot. She coughs a little, which somewhat ruins the impression she’s trying to make, but swallows it all down.

“Jude,” Vivi says, beginning to worry, “we really can just leave.”

But Jude is looking at her old high school nemeses again. Cardan had been a particular thorn in her side, or he in hers; Vivi never made sense of that conflict, of who had started what. What she does know is that they’ve definitely been spotted now. The blond boy—Vivi doesn’t quite remember his name—seems to make a move to walk over to them, but Cardan reaches out and grabs his arm, shaking his head. Valentine? Valentino? looks sour, but doesn’t approach. Jude stares them both down.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Taryn announces. “El baño.” Taryn had taken French in high school.

“But—” Vivi begins.

Taryn has already vanished into the crowd. Vivi puts her elbows on the bar and cradles her head in her hands. “This is all going great.”

“Not how you pictured our night out on the town?” asks Jude, who has obtained another shot of vodka from God knows where.

“Yeah, not really.”

“Well, I can fix it.” Jude drinks her second shot and does not cough this time. “I’m going to go talk to them.”

Vivi picks up her head. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“So what?”

“Dad’s going to hold me responsible if anything happens to you.”

Jude fixes a level stare on her. “Dad never holds you responsible for anything,” she says. She slips a little when she gets up off her stool. Vivi wonders if she’s really thinking about fighting someone in those heels.

“You’re mean drunk,” Vivi tells her, trying to grab her arm. “Don’t go.”

“I’m mean sober, but nobody notices,” says Jude, which doesn’t make any sense. She shakes Vivi off. “Besides, I have a few things I want to say.”

And for the second time that night, Vivi watches as one of her sisters pushes her way into the crowd of people, unsure if she should follow or not. Maybe it’ll be good for Jude, in the end, to get some of this out of her system.

The guys across the room are watching Jude approach. Cardan especially. The blond guy is sneering, but Cardan watches Jude with the same strange stillness with which she’d watched him. Like he’s holding his breath until she gets there. Unlike Jude, he doesn’t seem that drunk at all, which Vivi notices because, well, it’s a rare day that Cardan Greenbriar isn’t drunk.

But he is too busy watching her and not his blond friend, who decides that he’s going to intercept Jude before she can even reach Cardan. He pushes over to her first and bars her way, and although Vivi is too far away to hear what’s said between them, she notices the squaring of Jude’s shoulders and the widening of the blond guy’s sneer. Because she is watching closely, she sees that Valerian is the one who shoves Jude first.

Valerian. That’s his name.

It clicks right before Jude punches him in the face.

The bar erupts. Cardan springs to his feet and tries to pull his friend away from Jude. A couple of nearby patrons try to save Jude from herself—Vivi could have told them it was a fool’s errand—by holding her back, not knowing Jude has sharp elbows. Valerian struggles hard and manages to break away from Cardan, only to find himself being grabbed by more pairs of hands. There is shouting in Spanish. Even the hot lady bartender is drawn away, trying to signal her coworkers.

The most Vivi-like thing to do would be to leave Jude to it and keep her nose clean. But Vivi remembers asking Madoc on the day of that fateful tae kwon do tournament, while they revived Jude with sips of Gatorade, why Madoc hadn’t stopped Jude when it became clear she was flagging. “Your sister needs to learn for herself when to stop fighting,” he’d said. “If I make those calls for her, she never will.”

Vivi has a lot of qualms with Madoc’s parenting style, and Taryn is nowhere to be found.

“Oh, hell,” Vivi says again, and she dives into the knot of drunk brawlers to pull her sister from the fray.

---

“I can’t believe you got us kicked out,” Vivi says.

Jude, drunk, hapless Jude, is sitting on the curb with her head between her knees, presumably trying not to barf. There’s still enough anger left in her to flip Vivi off.

“Unbelievable.” Vivi folds her arms and looks left, then right. It seems like a good quarter of the bar spilled out onto the sidewalk with them, a crowd of people chattering about what just happened. Forget kicked out, Jude’s lucky she wasn’t arrested. “Do you see Taryn anywhere?”

“What do you think?”

Vivi pinches the bridge of her nose. Taryn will be fine. She has the AirBnB address and a phone she can use on WiFi. Besides, as far as Vivi knows, she ran off with Locke. Vivi hasn’t seen the two of them come out of the bar yet, and she would not be surprised. She knows a bad decision when she sees one.

“You keep sitting down,” Vivi tells Jude. “I’m going to figure out a ride home.”

“Your face should keep sitting down,” Jude mumbles spitefully.

“Hey, guys? Vivi?”

Vivi cringes as soon as she hears the voice, because she knows the voice, and because in this situation the owner of that voice will only make things worse. Vivi doesn’t have any personal grudge against Cardan Greenbriar—they’ve even sometimes been friends—except for how her sister feels about him. Taryn’s always said he was kind of a dick, but Taryn doesn’t hate him like Jude does. Nobody hates anybody the way Jude hates Cardan. Vivi wonders if Jude has something to prove.

Sure enough, Jude’s head swivels at the sound of his voice like the kid’s head turning around in The Exorcist. “You,” she snarls, and then stumbles to her feet.

“Jude,” Vivi says, trying to catch her sister’s dress to pull her back, but Jude is already out of reach. With another sigh, Vivi stands too.

“What are you doing here?” Jude demands of Cardan, openly hostile. It would be funny, because Jude is a full head shorter than him, if Jude was anybody else’s sister. “We were all having a great time until you showed up.”

“It’s anybody’s city,” Cardan says, but he doesn’t seem to be mocking her. He holds up his hands to show her they are empty.

“Go the fuck home!” Jude yells, and shoves him, sending him back a couple of steps.

Vivi shouts, “Woah!”

“It’s okay,” Cardan tells Vivi over Jude’s head. “She’s not hurting me. Let her get it out.”

With a little cry, Jude pushes him again, and this time he only stumbles back a half-step, but he keeps his hands up and his stance somewhat grounded. The next time Jude shoves him he doesn’t budge at all, and Jude lets out a grunt of frustration, fisting her hands in his jacket.

And then she bursts into tears.

“Oh,” says Vivi, but Cardan doesn’t seem that surprised. She wonders if he’s used to people behaving badly while drunk or just being drunk himself.

“You’re so a-awful,” Jude says between sobs. “Everything’s awful all the time.”

“I know, Jude,” Cardan replies. He gently pries the jacket out of her fists so he can remove it and drape it over her bare shoulders. Jude grabs onto his shirt instead.

“Why do you hate me so much?” she asks, with a small hiccup.

“I don’t,” Cardan replies. His hand rubs circles between his shoulder blades. “But I hope you’re too drunk to remember that.” He looks up at Vivi, and Vivi feels a brief flash of embarrassment, like she’s intruded on something intimate, before she remembers that they’re in public and, also, she has no shame. “Were you going to get a taxi? I can keep an eye on her while you do. I don’t think she should walk back.”

“Oh.” Vivi blinks. “Yeah. I’ve got it. Where’s your ‘friend?’”

“Sent him packing. He’s back at the hotel, or he should be.”

“Well… good.”

But Cardan isn’t listening. He’s already looking down at Jude again.

It turns out Vivi has, carelessly, let her phone die. She isn’t anal about things like that. Taryn’s the one who keeps a charger in her purse at all times, but Taryn has vanished, and Jude’s phone only works on WiFi outside of the States.

So they hail one of Barcelona's bumblebee-like taxis the old-fashioned way, and Vivi is the one who climbs into the passenger’s seat and tells the driver where to go in Spanish that’s fluent, if definitely not Spain-Spanish. It is deeply ironic that Vivi, the only sister without a drop of Duarte blood in her veins, is the one who speaks Spanish the best. But Jude and Taryn were only seven when their parents died. Vivi had been nine. Two years makes a big difference with these things, especially because memories are shaping and re-shaping themselves in the minds of children that young. As far as the twins’ brains are concerned, they only had their parents for a short time.

Vivi remembers more. She remembers sitting on the counter in the old kitchen, legs swinging, as her dad cooked on Fridays—the special day, the end of the week day—and pointing at things in the kitchen so Justin could tell her their names in Spanish and she could echo them back. Cebolla, onion. Queso, cheese, of course. Cuchara, spoon. The words had a favor of their own, different from the English words she learned in kindergarten. She remembers the smell of toasting coriander seeds, the bright songs her dad would hum, the vibrant melodies bursting from the CD player Vivi leaned her elbow on. When she got far enough along in school, she threw herself into Spanish, hoping the words would pave a road that would lead her back to the man who shaped her.

Sometimes Jude gets in a sulk about their awful twist of fate, or Taryn gets weepy, and Vivi just wants to yell Justin Duarte was my dad, too! She feels like her throat is raw from screaming it her entire adolescence. It was easier in the end to just move away for college.

She ended up in Spain because Madoc and Oriana weren’t keen on her going to Mexico. Oh, sure, they’d been before on vacation no problemo, but as soon as Vivi wanted to go alone it was game over. No matter how much Vivi told them it was very racist of them and a total double standard. Apparently Oriana didn’t want her getting kidnapped. Vivi, who has in fact seen the movie Taken, knows she can get kidnapped in Europe just as easily, thanks very much. That had not been a persuasive argument with Madoc.

So here she is, in Barcelona, where familiar words can have entirely different flavors, and that’s even before getting to Catalan, which she can now speak a little but not well. Most of the time, she’ll be honest, she does love it here. At this moment she’s not feeling charitable toward anything.

Cardan helps load Jude into the backseat of the taxi. The driver, looking in the rearview mirror, asks, “¿Su novio?”

“¿Qué?” Vivi asks reflexively. She cranes her head around to see Cardan sliding in next to Jude, his arm around her shoulder. She switches to English. “What the hell, dude?”

“She won’t let go,” Cardan says simply. It’s true; Jude is clinging to him like a very weepy barnacle, her shoulders still shaking.

“Alright, well.” Vivi turns back around. It’s good to have the extra pair of hands. She wishes again that Heather was here. “You’re the official Jude wrangler now.”

“Copy that. I just—” He sighs, and in the rearview, Vivi sees him rub his face with his free hand. “It’s my fault.”

“Sure is.” The taxi begins to pull away from the curb, and Vivi checks her anger. She amends, “Actually, no, it’s not your fault that my sister’s a lightweight and an angry drunk. But from what I hear, the years of prior psychological damage are totally your fault. So, credit where credit is due.”

Cardan nods. Jude sniffles forlornly. Vivi is intrigued by how gentle he’s being with her, how tolerant. His shirt looks like a regular cotton tee, but knowing him it probably costs about the same as a single night in their very nice AirBnB. He doesn’t seem to mind that Jude’s getting snot and tears all over it.

“Hate you,” Jude mutters, pressing her face into his shoulder. “Hate this.”

“I know.” He pushes a lock of hair that’s escaped from her ponytail. “What are you on?”

“Huh?” There’s a pause. Vivi is watching the road now, but she can imagine Jude’s confused blinking. “I don’t… drugs.”

“Meds.”

“Oh, um, fuck.” Another pause. “Zoloft. I switched this year.”

“You’re not supposed to drink on that stuff,” Cardan says, but it almost sounds like he’s teasing. “It messes you up. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

Jude sniffs. “It’s not like I’m operating heavy machinery,” she says, slurring slightly.

Cardan chuckles. “I did the Zoloft thing, too. I’m not on it anymore, though.”

“‘Cause you couldn’t drink?”

“Like anything would stop me.” He pauses, and Vivi looks into the rearview mirror to find him biting his lower lip in an exaggerated way, so drunk Jude is sure to get the joke. “No, there were... personal reasons.”

Jude is utterly nonplussed. “What?”

“Ah, you know…” He leans over and whispers something to her. Her eyes widen, and then she lets out a small, nervous chuckle. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I was like ‘If I can’t have sex, won’t that just make me more depressed?’”

To Vivi’s great surprise, Jude giggles. A totally surreal sound. She hasn’t giggled like that in years, if ever.

“There we go,” says Cardan, weirdly indulgent. “No more crying. Or, well—oh, okay,” he adds, as Jude turns her head and begins quietly sobbing into the sleeve of his shirt. “I guess some more crying.”

“You seem very sober,” Vivi remarks.

“Yeah, I’m trying it on. Just club soda for me tonight.” He leans over to rest his head on top of Jude’s. “It, cómo se dice, sucks.”

“Like your accent.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Vivi is beginning to get vaguely suspicious. She says, “But you are handling this well. Just used to dealing with a lot of drunks?”

“Huh? Oh.” Cardan’s dark eyes flick up to meet Vivi’s in the mirror. “This isn’t the first time. Jude got wasted at prom, after the stuff with Locke and Taryn came to light. Completely trashed.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You were finishing up sophomore year, right? In like, Massachusetts? And it’s not like she would have told you. If she’s lucky, she doesn’t remember it. I loaded her into the Uber that took her home.”

Vivi’s stomach twists, but she channels the newfound sister guilt into suspicion and narrows her eyes. “Decent of you.”

“Yeah, I was trying that out, too. Got puked on for the trouble.” Cardan leans his head back against the headrest now. Jude’s sobs have quieted down. “But I still remember the Four Phases of Drunk Jude Duarte.”

“I’m glad somebody does,” Vivi admits. “What are they?”

“Angry, weepy, horny, sick.”

She snorts. “Basically Snow White’s shittiest dwarves.”

“Basically,” Cardan agrees. “But you’re not in danger of her getting sick yet, because we haven’t hit—ah. Um. Well.” He clears his throat. “Never mind.”

Vivi looks up into the mirror again to see Cardan plucking Jude’s hand off of him and returning it to her. “Did we just hit horny?”

“We just hit horny,” he says, his voice strained. Jude has her face buried in his neck again, but this time for entirely different reasons. The hand he had returned to Jude is already sliding back down his shirt. “Okay, hands above the waist. No, above—”

“Oh my God.” Vivi covers her mouth to stifle her laughter.

“Great. Very helpful, Vivienne,” Cardan says, grabbing Jude’s wrist and holding it still. It speaks to their relationship as nearly family friends that he can use her full name without invoking her wrath. “Your sister is outright molesting me and you can’t even tell her to knock it off?”

He doesn’t sound totally panicked, though. “I think you might want my sister to molest you,” Vivi guesses, turning around in her seat to look at him. Somehow, Jude has managed to thoroughly drape herself across him, but Cardan is showing admirable and frankly uncharacteristic self-restraint by keeping her from doing anything that can’t be undone. “Just a little.”

“When she’s sober. Jude, don’t bite my ear. Jude—”

Vivi snickers. The rest of the short ride passes like that, with Cardan deflecting Jude’s advances and Vivi deflecting the taxi driver’s questions about what exactly is happening back there and whether Jude is going to be sick all over his floor mats. They are lucky enough to not hit “sick” until Jude is out of the car and walking up the five stairs to the door of the apartment building. With Cardan’s warning in mind, Vivi is able to jump back in time.

Cardan, who is nearer to Jude, is not so lucky. She leans against the railing and doubles over it, but his shoes and the bottoms of his jeans are still caught in the splash zone. “Okay, great,” he says, gathering her back up. He does not sound entirely tolerant now, but he also doesn’t sound as angry as Vivi might expect. “That’s over. Feel any better?”

“No,” Jude mutters.

“You might in the morning.” He moves them both so Vivi can pass and open the door. “Man, is this really only the second time this has ever happened to you? I have to say, I’m jealous. Not of you in this moment, of course. Just in general.”

“We can’t all be charming teenage alcoholics,” Vivi says, propping the door open so Cardan can help her through.

“You hear that, Jude?” Cardan asks. “Your sister thinks I’m charming.”

“Uh-huh,” says Jude.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Vivi warns. “She’s almost out. Let’s get her upstairs.”

Jude doesn’t make it into the bedroom she and Taryn are sharing. They put her to bed on the couch, on her side, with Cardan’s jacket draped over her. There’s no laundry machine in the AirBnB, but Vivi finds some detergent in the cabinet and they fill the bathroom sink with lukewarm water so Cardan can wash his jeans. Vivi is not sure the right time for the conversation she should have is now, when Cardan is standing in his boxer briefs and Jude is passed out in the next room, but on the bright side, there probably isn’t a worse time.

“You know, I didn’t think we had this level of friendship,” Cardan remarks, dunking his jeans in the sudsy water. “Dealing with your sister must really be a bonding experience. You always liked Rhyia best.”

“Well, Rhyia’s cool.” Vivi folds her arms and leans in the doorway. She kicked off her boots when they got in the door, so Cardan now looks even taller, although certainly not very intimidating in his underwear. “Calvin Klein. Nice. You always struck me as more of a boxers guy, I have to say.”

“Sometimes. These jeans are pretty tight, though.” He looks over at her. “Do you need something?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, nothing. I just can’t believe you’re trying to fuck my sister.”

“I’m not trying to fuck your sister,” Cardan says, massaging his jeans in the sink in such a way that Vivi is forced to wonder whether he’s ever done his own laundry. “She’s wasted. And she hates me.”

Vivi frowns deeply.

Cardan asks, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Vivienne Leigh—”

“Don’t you pull out my full name for this. You’re playing some game here and I will figure out what it—oh.”

“What now?”

Vivi squints at him. “Are you in love with my sister?”

Cardan lets out an exhausted sigh. “Taryn isn’t really my type.”

They both know they aren’t talking about Taryn. “What the fuck. How long?”

“Like a year. Or maybe my whole life. I’m not sure.”

“Does she know?”

“I really hope not.” Cardan grimaces at his reflection in the mirror, and then looks past himself to see where Jude sleeps on the couch. “She’d never let me live it down.”

“Okay, well…” Vivi pauses. This is more older sibling responsibility than she signed up for. “What are your… intentions?”

“I don’t have any.” Vivi purses her lips, and he adds, “I really don’t. I wasn’t expecting to see her tonight. I kind of thought I’d never see her again after we graduated.” He pauses and looks down at the sink. “I think, someday, I’d like to be a person she likes. That she’s capable of liking.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Huh.” He has it really, really bad. Vivi can’t imagine what Jude said or did to make him feel that way about her. Maybe it was her total lack of regard for him? “Is this why you bullied her for years?”

“I hope not!” Cardan exclaims, in a way that suggests this thought has occurred to him before, and moreover, that it actually bothers him. “I don’t know! I don’t want to be that fucking cliché, Vivi.”

“We’re all cliché in our own special ways,” Vivi says, glancing back at Jude. A vague plot is beginning to take shape in her brain. Jude is the plotter, Taryn the planner—there is a difference—and Vivi the pantser, normally. But there is something here that she thinks she can exploit. “Seeing as you have no pants, you should probably stay over. I don’t think any of our clothes will fit you.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. You can have one of the twin beds.” After a beat, she adds, “I’m not telling you which one is Jude’s.”

“Darn,” Cardan deadpans. “Now I don’t know which one to jerk off in.”

Vivi pulls a face. “That’s the idea.” And then, because Cardan is hopeless, she reaches forward and yanks the plug from the drain. “Rinse off your jeans in clean water. Otherwise they’ll dry all stiff and soapy.”

“Thank you for the advice, oh wise one.”

She rolls her eyes and leaves him to it. After checking on Jude, whose coloring and breathing are both normal, she heads back to her room and looks at her phone. Nothing from Taryn, even though it’s later than Vivi thought, but Vivi isn’t worried. Taryn’s kind of like a cat in that, somehow, she always manages to land on her feet. Vivi fires off a quick text to her, then stares at the glowing screen, thinking about the way Cardan had rested his head on top of Jude’s in the back of the taxi.

She texts Heather: sisters are a lot of work

And:

i wish you were here

It’s much earlier in New England. When the three dots pop up to indicate that Heather is typing a reply, Vivi smiles.

#jurdan #judecardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdannet #jurdan fanfic #the folk of the air #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the cruel prince #mine: fic #fic: i hate everybody

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frenemies-to-lovers · 3 years

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The Glint of Your Blade | Jurdan Fluff (Jude POV)

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Just some Jude/Cardan fluff inspired by the Folktober 2020 prompt (I am phenomenally late to the party). Set after QON. There’s some sparring, some magic, and some making out.

((One-shot. 3820 words. Just fluff. Heat level: somewhere between mild and medium))

[Read on AO3]

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“I thought I might find you here,” Cardan’s familiar voice says from behind me, startling me and breaking my concentration. I lower Nightfell and turn to face him.

“You could have tried to make a little noise when you entered the room. It isn’t wise to startle someone with a sword in their hand,” I say, pushing my sweat-dampened hair out of my face.

“Perhaps. But you didn’t so much as point it at me, so perhaps I needn’t worry whether you’re armed or not,” he grins.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t stab you,” I retort. He merely hums in response, and I wonder what the truth is. Whether he believes I would or I wouldn’t, he’s unwilling to say.

He takes a step closer and I notice that his face is bare of it's usual golden shimmer and he’s wearing a plain black cloak. He must have had some time to wash and change before heading down to the Court of Shadows, where I’ve been practicing my swordsmanship since I left the brugh after dinner. Leaving Cardan to the revelry on his own.

“Are you planning on sneaking out this evening?” I ask, sweeping the tip of my sword up to point out his attire.

“Only if you wish to. I came to see if I could lure you away. You’ve been down here for quite some time,” he says.

That makes me smile. That he missed me.

“I didn’t realize,” I say honestly. “I’m having a hard time unwinding.” Despite having no immediate threats, court politics are always stressful. There are always dangers lurking throughout Elfhame, and I worry that I cannot anticipate them all.

“Why aren’t you sparring with The Ghost?” he asks.

“I sent him home. I knew he’d rather be spending time with Taryn. And every time we spar lately, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that he’s probably old enough to be our father but he’s also my sister’s... boyfriend? It’s distracting. And kind of gross,” I say, making a face. He laughs.

“Then why not just drink some wine to ease your tension like the rest of us do?” I know he is teasing. I still haven’t developed a taste for alcohol, and do not drink beyond making toasts at feasts and revels.

“I needed to burn off some nervous energy. Wine doesn’t really help with that,” I answer.

“I know something that can help burn off that nervous energy,” Cardan murmurs, voice all honey and silk. He raises a black eyebrow and gives me his most mischievous grin. A sudden spike of heat rushes through me, and I know my face is flushed.

It has been months since I returned to Elfhame, since Cardan was cursed and then restored, since we began ruling together. Since we began sleeping together, and sharing the royal chambers. Since it became public knowledge that we are married -- something that is definitely still weird if I think about it too hard. The better part of a year has passed, and I still get a little flustered whenever he’s particularly forward. It probably encourages him, actually.

Not that I mind it. Not really.

“How about… I’ll try your way if you can disarm me.” I nod at the rack of weapons on a wall of the training room. My training room.

The Roach told me that it was something Cardan had insisted on for the new Court of Shadows. For me. Cardan and I had never actually talked about my training habits, but he must have made some assumptions about them based on what he had seen, what he had known. Those assumptions had made me feel truly and completely seen.

“My way?” That mischievous grin seems to grow wider. “Very well, Jude.”

Cardan goes to the rack, removing and hanging up his cloak before retrieving his sword -- his own sword, made for him by the newest resident smith at the palace. I was a little surprised when he had recruited my help in having it commissioned for him, as I knew he wasn’t partial to swordplay.

He had responded by telling me that perhaps he would find it more interesting with an instructor he was fond of looking at.

He turns back toward me and slices his sword through the air in large, sweeping strokes and then smaller ones. I catch myself looking him up and down as he moves. He is wearing plain black clothing, but it is still perfectly tailored to his frame. He catches my eye and I know he caught me staring, that he knows I wasn’t even thinking about critiquing his form. He grins at me again, and I glare back at him.

“Are you ready, then?” I ask, trying to sound detached.

He takes another few passes with his sword, these ones more purposeful. His skills with a blade are improving, but he still has a long way to go. He seems to sense the same thing in those few movements.

“I may have been a little overconfident in agreeing to your terms. How about we spar until I get under your guard, rather than disarming you?” he asks.

You’re always under my guard. The thought comes to me unbidden, comforting and startling in equal measure. Rather than say that, I try to appear as though I am considering his proposal.

“Alright,” I finally respond. “As a reward for your humility in acknowledging my superior swordsmanship, I will accept your terms.”

“Very generous, my queen,” he says, giving me a small bow and taking up a ready position.

I step toward him and raise Nightfell. His gaze sweeps over me slowly, his face full of determination and desire. I feel the force of his attention like a caress, intimate and possessive. I find my cheeks heating, unsure if his reaction is sincere or if it is an attempt to throw me off balance before we even begin.

I clear my throat.

“Are you quite done ogling me?” I raise an eyebrow as his eyes meet mine.

“I wasn’t ogling. I was. . . admiring your form.” He grins and lets his eyes wander again. I’m pretty sure there’s a blush all the way to my toes, but I refuse to be distracted by it. I hate that he knows how to use his charm on me, and that I’m responsible for the fact that he views it as a weapon to be wielded.

“Let’s begin, then,” I say.

Because his sword is at the ready, I don’t give him any other warning before I advance. I take a cautious swing to test his reflexes, neither as fast nor as strong as I know he is capable of deflecting. He blocks it effortlessly and I am pleased that he was still paying enough attention to be ready for my attack.

He does not return to a defensive position as I expect, but immediately presses into the offense. He swings quickly, but I parry. I see him ready to strike again and step out of his reach, allowing him to waste the effort. There are two ways I usually win with Cardan: I either let him tire himself out with repeated attempts to land a blow, or I tire him out by putting him on the defensive until he makes a mistake.

Since we have been practicing regularly, he has the skill to hold his own in a sparring match, but not the stamina. He has gotten strong, but he still moves a half a beat too slowly, still having to think about what he will do before he moves. My own body reacts more automatically, a lifetime of training and practice informing my steps without conscious thought.

He swings and jabs and strikes, over and over again. I deflect and parry and avoid his attacks, watching as the effort begins to take its toll on him. His breath is coming more rapidly, and his face is beginning to slip just a little. While he never wears the haughty expression I am used to seeing him deploy in public, he tries to keep his face cool and neutral when we spar. Now he looks intently focused on our battle, his eyebrows furrowed just a little in frustration.

“You seem to be tiring, my king,” I say, twisting away from him as he tries to press me backward toward the wall. “Are you ready to concede?”

His movements have become slower, his strike not as powerful as it was when we began. To his credit, I am also moving more slowly and my hair is damp with sweat. Each of his movements seems to be taking more and more concentration.

“Perhaps, my queen.” He strikes, and I block his blow but he continues pressing, our blades locked together. He presses forward and brings his face in as close as possible while avoiding the path of our crossed swords. He gives me a coy smile. “But I will save enough strength to ensure you’re properly spent before we’re finished.”

He withdraws his sword and readies to strike again. I automatically move to avoid the blow, but I am surprised to find myself falling backward. I bring my sword arm up in defense as I hit the hard packed earth of the floor. My free arm and hip are going to be bruised from the impact. I look down and see a vine coiled around the toe of my boot.

A cheap move, but effective.

Much like some of my own best moves.

He is turning out to be a much more apt pupil than I anticipated. He may have a lot to learn about swordplay, but he is an excellent strategist.

I look up, trying to school my expression away from wide-eyed shock to something more menacing. He is advancing on me slowly, his sword still raised, but he isn’t moving quickly enough to press his advantage. If he thinks he can best me by tripping me, he’s going to be sorely disappointed.

I point my toe and begin to pull my foot out of my boot, but as I go to move my body, I realize too late that there are more vines sprouting up from the floor. I try to scramble backward, but there are too many and I am caught around my legs, my hips, and the arm I landed on when I fell.

Cardan wasn’t being cocky with his slow advancement, he was using my moment of confusion to continue focusing on using his magic. I’ve never seen him do that before, invoke his connection to the land without his full attention.

I move to cut myself free from the encroaching vines with my sword, but the creeping plants have finally reached up my side and are beginning to pull even my sword arm down. I am well and truly trapped. Cardan tosses his sword to the side and stands above me for a moment, one side of his mouth lifting in a rakish grin that is taunting and beautiful. I am propped up on my elbows, vines covering my body, holding me in place. My hand still grips Nightfell uselessly.

“Clever,” I admit. “The initial maneuver was a distraction to buy you enough time for the finishing move. You’ve been paying attention.”

His grin widens, bright and mischievous.

“You haven’t seen my finishing move yet,” he says, kneeling over me, one of his legs between mine. He pulls Nightfell from my hand. To his credit, he doesn’t toss it aside the way he did with his own, but gently places it behind him, far out of my reach.

He turns back to me and my heart speeds at his proximity.

“I seem to have won,” he says, eyes dragging down my pinned form and then back up. Then, movements slow, he leans over me and the moment stretches until his soft mouth brushes mine. A ghost of a kiss.

“This hardly feels like losing,” I breathe against his lips. He lets out a laugh as he kisses me again.

I feel the vines around my arms loosen, although the ones around my torso begin to tug at me. Cardan slips his hand beneath my head and he lays me down gently, using his magic as an extension of himself. His mouth continues to move against mine as I yield, my back against the floor. His kisses are still soft. A question. A plea. He pulls back momentarily and searches my flushed face.

My arms fully freed, I trace a line from his hand to his shoulder then sink my fingers into his curls. I look into his black eyes, his pupils blown wide with desire.

“Is this okay?” he asks in a whisper. He knows how much I dislike being out of control, and his asking makes me feel safe.

I nod, and tighten my fingers in his hair, pulling him back to me, kissing him hard. I bite his lower lip and I feel his arm move underneath me, clutching me tighter, pressing my body closer into his. The vines are still coiled around me from the waist down, rendering me unable to shift my hips against him the way my body wants to.

As he trails kisses down the column of my throat, I glance down and see flowers budding and blooming everywhere. Tiny, fragrant blooms in every shade of red, from crimson so dark it is almost black, to the faintest pink. I can feel them now. Not just the physical touch against my body, but the sensation of them brushing up against my own connection to the land.

Cardan can sense that something has changed, and he begins to pull away and rise to his knees. His breathing is ragged and his hair is a mess.

“Don’t stop,” I say, fisting a hand in the front of his shirt and yanking him back toward me. He looks briefly surprised but allows me to tug him down, bracing his hands on either side of my head. “I was just. . . distracted by the flowers. I’m okay.”

His eyes scan the floor around me, the vines still holding me around the waist, pinning down my legs. He looks surprised to see them covered in blooms.

“I didn’t even mean to do that,” he admits. That makes me give a short laugh.

“You do that on accident kind of a lot,” I say.

My hand is still clenched in the fabric of his shirt and I pull him down further, our mouths sliding together again.

“You seem rather unperturbed by being rendered defenseless,” he whispers between kisses. His mouth moves back to my neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses down to my collarbone “You must like being at my mercy.”

I hum noncommittally and angle my chin to give him better access. I focus again on feeling him, feeling his magic through the connection we both share with the land. I peek down at him briefly, and see that he is totally lost in the moment, eyes closed and cheeks flushed.

“You know what I like even better?” I ask, unclenching my hand from the front of his shirt and slowly raking it down his chest, brushing my fingertips down the flat plane of his stomach. After a perilously long descent, I finally hook a finger inside the waist of his pants. His eyes flash up to mine and I feel the heat, the intensity like a physical blow.

“Tell me,” he demands, voice rough.

“Winning,” I say with a grin.

With my other hand, I swiftly pull the dagger from my boot and hold the flat of the blade against his throat. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe as the vines fall away from my body.

“Your distraction was better than mine,” he says, grinning. “Although a different opponent would not be able to escape so easily.”

“I’m glad you thought that was easy. I still have difficulty calling on the land. And it doesn’t like to work against you,” I say.

“It doesn’t like to work against you, either. But I, unlike you, always have the purest of intentions.”

I raise an eyebrow and open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.

“I merely sought to disarm you. You’re the one holding a knife to my throat,” he points out.

“This is just a reminder that you didn’t disarm me. I’m not even touching you with any of the sharp parts,” I protest.

I begin to pull the knife away, but his hand shoots to my wrist and holds it there.

“Don’t,” he says, his head dipping down again, his forehead coming to rest against mine. He turns my hand and brings the razor-shape edge into just the barest contact with his skin.

“This,” he whispers, letting go of my wrist but not pulling away at all as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, “the glint of your blade, the edge of your dagger against my throat . . . it brings back a very fond memory.”

“You really do have depraved tastes.” I kiss him then, remembering that first kiss as our mouths collide and I hold my blade still against his neck. It is different now, of course. It doesn’t feel as dangerous, but the desire is still just as potent as it was the first time. Maybe more potent now that he knows exactly how to kiss me, exactly where to touch to elicit the fastest and most powerful responses from me. I expect him to make one of those moves now, but his kiss remains gentle.

A little frustrated at being one-handed, I stab my knife into the dirt floor. Cardan chuckles at the sound and pulls back. He looks at me with a kind of reverence, bringing a hand to cup my face and brushing his thumb back and forth across my cheekbone.

“Are you ready to go tire yourself out my way?” he asks softly. I don’t trust my voice, so I just nod and plant another kiss on his soft mouth before he rises.

He offers me his hand, and I allow him to help pull me to my feet. I pluck my dagger from the earth, and put it back in my boot, then retrieve Nightfell and return it to the scabbard at my hip. Cardan has returned his sword to its rightful place and pulled on his cloak. He holds up another cloak, as though to help me into it.

“That seems like overkill when we have direct access to our chambers,” I say.

“We aren’t going to our chambers,” he responds, mischief lighting his face again. I know he wants me to ask, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I let him envelop me in the dark fabric.

We pull up our hoods and I follow him out of the Court of Shadows and through the secret passageways beneath the palace. I know these tunnels just as well as he does, but I am surprised to find him leading me to a secret entrance to the Great Hall. Cardan cracks the door and peers out. I can hear music and chatter, the revel still carrying on in the hours since we left.

He grabs me by the hand and pulls me out, but we stick to the shadows as we make our way around the back of the dais. I try to move as silently as Cardan as I follow him to what I now think of as our secret room, the doorway covered in ivy. He barely brushes it aside and opens the door only far enough for both of us to slip inside.

Before I can even react to what I assume he’s brought me here for, he grabs me around the waist and pulls my body close to his. But instead of pulling me in for a kiss, I realize he's pulled me in for a dance. His other hand is grasping my own and his feet are already beginning to move to the sound of the music from outside.

I lift my eyes to his and find him grinning down at me.

“My way,” he says as he leads me gracefully around the little room.

For as long as I have been teaching him the sword, he has been teaching me skills I thought would be useful to me as the queen. Dancing is one of them.

I have found that knowing the steps to a dance makes it easier to stay a little more in control, even when I get swept up by the compulsion of faerie music. Although I still cannot pull myself out of a dance once it has begun, I can choose my own steps rather than feeling as though the music is making them for me. When I do so, I am able to feel more of the exhilaration of the dance, and less of the dread.

At revels now, Cardan always looks for my signal at the end of any dance for which he is not my partner. If I touch my ruby ring, he will make his way toward me, cut in to dance with me, and pull me out of the crowd. Knowing that he is watching, knowing that he will always get me out if I am overset, is yet another way Cardan has helped me overcome some of the powerlessness I have felt all my life.

The music that I hear coming through the wall now is faint enough that it has hardly any pull on me. I could stop if I wished, but instead I try to feel the dance the way I felt the steps when we were sparring. Our skills are reversed here, Cardan gliding through the steps without any thought at all, while my movements are just slightly delayed -- the product of my having to consciously think about what comes next.

For a while, we continue dancing without much conversation. He says nothing when I make a misstep, simply leads me through it with the poise of someone who has done this his whole life.

The music outside grows quieter and slower, even the revelry beginning to die down. Cardan pulls me in close enough for me to lean my head against his shoulder.

“Jude?” his voice is soft, and I feel him running the tip of his finger along the rounded top of my ear. I open my eyes and look up at him. I hadn’t realized they’d drifted closed.

I realize suddenly that I love this room. It feels as though no matter what is going on outside these walls, only we exist within.

“Shall we go back to our chambers?” he asks.

“No,” I answer. I pull him with me to the low couch where we lie down together, his arms wrapped around me, my head on his chest.

“Let’s stay here a while.”

#tfota fanfic #tfota #jurdan #jude x cardan #judecardan #@jurdannet #@jurdannetrevels #folktober2020

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driedletters · 4 years

Text

The Cruel Prince • Holly Black ★★★★★

• Quotes

Jude ran at the man, slamming her fists against his chest, kicking at his legs. She wasn’t even scared. She wasn’t sure she felt anything at all.

•

As for dancing, once begun, you mortals will dance yourselves to death if we don’t prevent it.

•

Three is an odd configuration of sisters. There’s always one on the outside.

•

“Dirt. It’s what you came from, mortal. It’s what you’ll return to soon enough. Take a big bite.” “Make me,” I say before I can stop myself.

•

Nicasia’s wrong about me. I don’t desire to do as well in the tournament as one of the fey. I want to win. I do not yearn to be their equal. In my heart, I yearn to best them.

•

Cardan is even more beautiful than the rest, with black hair as iridescent as a raven’s wing and cheekbones sharp enough to cut out a girl’s heart. I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe.

•

You mean because of Cardan and his Court of Jerks?

•

The pictures are taken one right after the other, the kind you have to sit in a booth for. Vivi is in the photos, her arm draped over the shoulders of a grinning, pink-haired mortal girl.

Having stepped off the edge, what I want to do is fall.

•

Liking both girls and boys is the only thing in this scenario Madoc wouldn’t be upset with Vivi about.

•

I delight in the chemicals that would doubtless sicken all the lords and ladies at the Court.

•

We’ve gone three rounds like this already. I keep thinking of the lazy blink of Cardan’s lashes over his coal-bright eyes. He looked gleeful, gloating, as though my fist tightening on his shirt was exactly what he would have wished. As though, if I struck him, it would be because he had made me do it.

•

Beg. Make it pretty. Flowery. Worthy of me.

•

You think because you can humiliate me, you can control me? Well, I think you’re an idiot. Since we started being tutored together, you’ve gone out of your way to make me feel like I’m less than you. And to coddle your ego, I have made myself less. I have made myself small, I have kept my head down. But it wasn’t enough to make you leave Taryn and me alone, so I’m not going to do that anymore.

•

As I make my way back to the tournament and my sisters, I can’t stop thinking of Cardan’s shocked face, nor can I stop considering Locke’s smile. I am not altogether sure which is more thrilling and which more dangerous.

•

Not that I’d be the first to green gown her. Faeries

•

It feels a little bit like expecting a proposal of marriage, only to get offered the role of mistress.

•

“Now no one will be able to control you,” he says, and then pauses for a moment. “Except for me.”

•

Truly, he has come by his cruelty honestly in Balekin’s care. He has been raised up in it, instructed in its nuances, honed through its application. However horrible Cardan might be, I now see what he might become and am truly afraid.

•

Welcome,” says the Roach, “to the Court of Shadows.”

•

Not totally Cardan’s puppet like the rest of them.

•

Hard enough to dig through the page, maybe to scar the desk beneath. If that’s what he did to the paper, I shudder to think what he wants to do to me.

•

I have been trying to feel nothing about what happened. I am afraid that if I begin to feel, I won’t be able to bear it. I am afraid that the emotion will be like a wave sucking me under.

It’s not the first awful thing I have endured and pushed into the back of my brain. That’s how I’ve been coping, and if there’s another, better way, I do not know it.

•

He’s kind of a weird kid, maybe because he’s a faerie or maybe because all kids, human or inhuman, are equally weird.

•

Why don’t you ever trust me with him?” I shout, and Oriana wheels around, shocked that I said a thing we don’t say.

•

Mithridatism, it’s called. Isn’t that a funny name? The process of eating poison to build up immunity. So long as I don’t die from it, I’ll be harder to kill.

•

I do not understand why he likes me, but it is exciting to be liked.

•

We are children of tragedy.” He shakes his head and then smiles. “This is not how I meant to begin. I meant to give you wine and fruit and cheese. I meant to tell you how your hair is as beautiful as curling woodsmoke, your eyes the exact color of walnuts. I thought I could compose an ode about it, but I am not very good at odes.”

•

He watches me as the girl kisses his mouth, watches me as she slides her hand beneath the hem of his silly, ruffly shirt.

•

Do not reveal your skill with a blade. Do not reveal your mastery over glamour. Do not reveal all that you can do. Little did Prince Dain know that my real skill lies in pissing people off.

•

I think of Cardan’s mouth, flaked with gold

•

I love my parents’ murderer; I suppose I could love anyone. I’d like to love him.

•

Time to change partners,” a voice says, and I look to see that it’s the worst person possible: Cardan. “Oh,” he says to Locke. “Did I steal your line?”

•

Dark silver paint streaks over his cheekbones, and black lines run along his lashes. The left one is smeared, as though he forgot about it and wiped his eye.

•

With a sigh, I take down my braids, rubbing my hands through my hair until it hangs wild in my face. “You look…” he says, and then trails off, blinking a few times, not seeming able to finish. I am guessing the hair thing worked better than he had expected.

•

Jude?” he asks, up against the wall, pronouncing my name carefully, as though to avoid slurring. I am not sure I have ever heard him use my actual name before. “Surprised?” I ask, a fierce grin starting on my face. The most important boy in Faerie and my enemy, finally in my power. It feels even better than I thought it would. “You shouldn’t be.”

•

The High King Balekin is a friend to my lady’s Court,” Cardan says, silver-tongued in his silver fox mask.

•

Tell me anyway,” he says, and yawns. I really want to slap him.

•

I hate how I feel around him, the irrational panic when I touch his skin.

•

Cardan’s clothes are disarranged, from crawling under tables or being captured and tied, and his infamous tail is showing under the white lawn of his shirt. It is slim, nearly hairless, with a tuft of black fur at the tip. As I watch, the tail forms one wavering curve after another, snaking back and forth, betraying his cool face, telling its own story of uncertainty and fear.

•

Only in my dreams has Cardan ever been like this. Begging. Miserable. Powerless

•

...a love mark on my brow so all who looked upon me would be sick with desire, ...

•

Let’s talk about your behavior tonight,” says Madoc, leaning forward. “Let’s talk about your behavior tonight,” I return.

•

So he proposed to you,” I say. “While the royal family got butchered. That’s so romantic.

•

I think of Cardan tied to a chair to cheer myself.

•

Then I think of the way he looked up at me through the curtain of his crow-black hair, of the curling edges of his drunken smile, and I don’t feel in the least bit comforted.

•

... ‘mortal feelings are so volatile that it’s impossible to help toying with them a little’.

•

He smiles down at me, as if the reason I’m on my knees is because I am curtsying.

•

I’m nervous,” he says. “I smile a lot when I’m nervous. I can’t help it

•

Very well.” He fixes me with a spiteful look. “I hate you because your father loves you even though you’re a human brat born to his unfaithful wife, while mine never cared for me, though I am a prince of Faerie. I hate you because you don’t have a brother who beats you. And I hate you because Locke used you and your sister to make Nicasia cry after he stole her from me. Besides which, after the tournament, Balekin never failed to throw you in my face as the mortal who could best me.

•

Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.”

•

Just looking at him makes me feel hot with shame. “You sure you brought me here just to talk.

•

Jude Duarte, daughter of clay, I swear myself into your service. I will act as your hand. I will act as your shield. I will act in accordance with your will. Let it be so for one year and one day…and not for one minute more.

•

I fix him with a look. “I can be charming. I charmed you, didn’t I?” He rolls his eyes. “Do not expect others to share my depraved tastes.”

•

Oh, really?” The human surprises me by speaking first. “Yes, mortal,” I say, like the hypocrite I am.

•

We go over the plans again, and Cardan helps us map out Hollow Hall. I try not to be too conscious of his long fingers tracing over the paper, of the sick thrill I get when he looks at me.

•

By this point, I have told this story enough that it’s easy to hit only the necessary parts, to run through the information quickly and convincingly

•

With Vivi, I feel forever doomed to be the little sister, foolish and about to topple over onto my face.

•

I do not have endless patience,” Balekin growls. “Cultivate it,” Cardan says, and with a small bow, he navigates us away from Balekin and Madoc.

•

Jude?” I may never be used to the sound of my name on his lips.

•

The Ghost tosses the crown to my identical twin. It falls at Taryn’s feet.

•

Of Nicasia giving Cardan a lingering kiss on his royal cheek.

•

He rises from the throne. “Come, have a seat.” His voice is replete with danger, lush with menace. The flowering branches have sprouted thorns so thickly that petals are barely visible. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asks. “What you sacrificed everything for. Go on. It’s all yours.”

• Black, Holly. “The Cruel Prince (The Folk of the Air Book 1)”. 2018.

#my fav quotes #the cruel prince #holly black #tcp #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #quotes #the cruel prince quotes #quote #principe cruel #rei perverso

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writinglionqueen · 5 years

Text

Tender Love & Care

Summary: Your king returns to you after a battle. You can’t rest until his wounds are tended to. A part two to My King And the third part; Forge Bond

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Word Count: 1,400

Warnings: None. This is all fluff.

Dark trees over hanged the path ahead. Brisk cold was coming on darkened clouds, winter being brought on it’s wings. Leaves crunched underfoot and the stone castle ahead was a welcomed sight. The iron claymore in the king’s hand was chilled like winter’s ice.

Drew’s joints ached. His scratches and cuts burned. The cold bit at his fingers and toes. It pushed through the wool of his colors; the red and blue plaid not providing much warmth. His own clothes and cloak did nothing to shield him from the bitter snips of the frosty air. All he wanted was to clean his wounds and return to his warm bed where his wife would be sleeping by now.

The moon was shining over his castle before him. The dark stones shining in the moonlight. The flags of his colors waved in the gentle breeze.

His servants took the reigns of his horse from him. They lead him over to the stable as Drew went on towards the courtyard and the great hall. The wind howled through the courtyard, seeping into the king’s very bones like a tease. He growled to himself as he lugged towards the heavy wooden door. It creaked open for its king and it slammed behind him.

The great hall was dimly lit. The large fire pit simmering in coals. But Drew’s eyes were adjusted enough. Guards posted, on weary legs, at the doors. Nothing was out of place or wrong. Except for one thing that caught his eye, upon his great chair at the head of the hall.

The king stepped closer to his chair. A smile formed on his face as he could decipher the form.

Sitting on his chair, curled in the vastness was you, his queen. One of your knees were pressed to your chest, the other laid across the seat. You were wrapped in your favorite fur; Drew’s last cloak, made of the golden fur of a bear Drew had killed protecting you. It had been softened with time, earning being your favorite after a while.

Your head rested against the arm rest of the chair, your face tucked away in the fur. Puffs of quiet breath left your lips, hitting the fur on every exhale. But you looked peaceful and Drew didn’t want to disturb his queen, but he wanted her warmth.

Drew’s hand reached towards your head. His large fingers stroked your head. He needed you awake though...or off in your shared room.

“My queen,” the king whispered to you. You were deep in sleep. “My love, wake up.” You did. Slowly. A noise of displeasure of being woken up left your throat as you stirred awake. Your eyes fluttered open and up to find your king before you.

“My king,” you whispered, jumping up to wrap your arms around your husband. He held you bit hissed as your limbs brushed his wounds. You pulled back swiftly, looking to your husband’s tunic to find it torn. You could see specks of blood upon the wool. “You’re hurt.”

You’re king was quick to try and shake his head. But you were already on the frits of fretting on your husband.

“No, my queen, I’m not-” you cut him off by reaching for the bottom of the cloth bunching it up.

“Take it off, let me see,” you said to him. He couldn’t protest as he helped you rid the shirt from his body. Your eyes and fingers moved across the cuts and scrapes. But the largest on, on his shoulder of his bad arm had darkened blood around it. “I need to clean it. Come.” You grabbed his hand, leading him out of the great hall and towards the kitchen where you could boil water and a sufficient amount of cloth was.

“My love I don’t need ya to clean my wounds,” Drew tried while you pushed him down to sit on a bench as you went to the fireplace where the coals were barely asleep.

“And I don’t need my husband to fester in his wounds,” you said back as you woke up the flames by poking around the coals, adding a log and settling a kettle over the flames. Drew went silent as he watched you scuttle around for a cloth and a bowl. You settled both on the table next to your husband. The water had warmed enough that you grabbed the kettle carefully, bringing it over to the table to pour the water into the bowl. You dunked the cloth to wring it out, looking over the wound again.

You pressed the cloth to the wound, softening the dried blood to wipe it away. Drew hissed a few times but let you go to work cleaning his wound.

“If I was there, you wouldn’t have gotten this,” you said to him. Drew let out a chuckle.

“Aye, probably, my love,” Drew said to you. “You’re good with a sword and a shield. But I wouldn’t have had someone here to protect our people.” You smiled at that.

“I think I’m better with a bow and arrow than a sword and shield as a pairing,” you teased back. Drew laughed at that.

“Aye. Good shot ya are.” You hummed as you checked the wound again.

“Hm...it looked much worse than it is,” you said to your husband. He smiled.

“See, my queen, nothing to worry about,” he said to you. “Those southern invaders couldn’t lay their hands on your king, not much their swords.” You wanted to roll your eyes at your king’s cockiness.

“Was this the worse one?” you asked. Drew nodded.

“Aye. Everything else is much a scratch or scrape,” he answered. His blue eyes held mischief. “See nothing to worry about, my love.”

“Menace,” you muttered. Drew only smiled.

“Aye, my love I can be that too,” Drew teased. You chuckled, fixing the long plaid of his colors over his shoulder once more. Your fingers played along his chest. A nice silence was brought, the fire crackling behind the two of you.

“I’m glad your back to me...safe at least,” you murmured. Drew smiled kindly reaching for you and he pulled you upon his lap. You went easily, your linen nightgown bunching around your lap as you sat. You wrapped your arms around his neck. His arm encircled your waist. His thumb brushed your hip.

“I’m glad you were safe here,” Drew murmured back. “I don’t know what I’d do if I ever loss you, little one.” He stroked your side.

“And I don’t know what would become of me if I ever lost my king,” you whispered back before placing a soft kiss to Drew’s lips. His facial hair tickled your own lips for a moment before you pulled away, looking into the grey eyes of your king. “I’d die.”

“Don’t say that,” Drew whispered. “I won’t leave ya. Not by my own two feet, not by a sword, nor another. I’m with you always.” You smiled sweetly. You cupped his face.

“And I’m always with you,” you said to him. Drew gave you the sweetest smile, reserved for when he came home from battles, reserved for when he bedded you, and the sweetest of times; when he became yours.

“Now, I haven’t been with you for....a fortnight, I reckon,” Drew said to you. You giggled. His lewdness didn’t fog the tone of his sweetness though. He could be both, on a good mood.

“I would say so,” you said back. “Our bed’s been cold for that long...and I was just about to say it myself.” The tease in your voice was unmistaken as you gave him a sassy wink. Drew chortled. His other armed looped under your knees, lifting you with ease in his strong arms as he stood to his feet. You let out a yelping laugh as he did so.

“What do you say that we make our bed warm again?” Drew asked. You giggled.

“Let’s, beloved,” you answered, feeling your heart flutter at the prospect as Drew carried out of the kitchen and towards the stairs that led your shared room. You giggled all the while as your husband chuckled with you.

Your king was home and safe with you. The menace he was with all his cuts and scrapes but strength and courage and love.

You clung to him, feeling him in your arms once more. Happy again with him.

Tag: @adriennegabriella @amariemoore @andie01 @annoyingasian @artemisapalla316 @balorstrowmanblackmurphy @biforbecky2belts @br0th3r-n3r0 @burning-coco @calicina @calwitch @claymoreme @darlingambrose @dcnmarvelgamergeek @demonqueen29 @desstehhnee @detectiveramen @drewmcintyreinarefereeoutfit @finnsauroraborealis @fireyegale @fivefootxo @flawlessglamazon @harringtonsbaseballbat @homeorbust @i-have-saracasm @jazzy-tzw @kalliravenne @lilred91 @littledeadrottinghood @littlesuperstar @lolorockstar101boom @lovesweetpeaa @madamaholmes @meishaabae @mermaidqueen @moxleysbaby @moxley-unhinged @moxtiel @neversatisfiedgirl @new-zealand-chic @nothinginlifebutgreif @number1120 @queenofthearchitect @reigns420 @rollynch-roman-empire @sassymox @sassyspacedust @savemeroman @scuzmunkie @shieldgirl18 @softmoxymuffin @southsidebucky @superrezzy00 @taryn-dibiase @the-beastslayers-queen @thehoundsofjustice @thewrestlingwarehouse @theworldofotps @trashofambrolleigns @trent7thirsting @twistedbeautifully @unprettypeony @voidstrugh @writing-reigns @writtingrose @xbreezymeadowsx @xprincessofthefallenangels @yaint-me @youcantreignonmyparade

#drew mcintyre #drew mcintyre x reader #wwe #wwe fic #fluff #wwe fluff

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nightspeckle · 4 years

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High School Au {Part 3}

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4

this one is like sorta long-ish? (for me lol, in actuality its like super short) and it’s trash so my b

******

Here’s the thing. Working with Cardan was actually pretty good. I never thought I would ever think that and yet here I am. I’m pretty sure my delusions are growing but that's not really the point.

The point is that the kid knows his shit. I mean really knows his shit.

Noggle gave us Scipio Africanus’ Tactics which was an adventure in itself. Cardan had just looked at me with a toned-down version of his death stare and asked me if we wanted to break up the work.

It was that simple. We made a combined slideshow that took about 20 minutes in total with each of us splitting the research. I was looking over the slides and when I got to his I think my brain imploded.

They were extremely detailed, more so even than mine and he had been on his phone half of the time. I mean even the sentences sounded smart. He used the word consternation. I mean what does that even mean? Not that I was about to ask.

Noggle basically pushed us out early when he saw how good our slides were considering this was just a club and so he shoved us out with a big smile.

So in all working with Cardan wasn’t terrible. I barely even noticed how clear his skin looked from close up! So progress for me.

But now as we currently exit out the east side doors to the parking lot I can’t help but notice how he seems to glow in the sunlight. Or the fact that something about him just feels ethereal at this moment.

So I book it. Walking as fast as I possibly can to the back of the parking lot.

I’m so focused and hightailing it away from the beauty that is Cardan that I don’t realize anything is amiss until I’m standing in an empty parking spot.

I do a little 360 standing in the place where the car is supposed to be.

Fuck.

I should be surprised, or even concerned that my car is missing. But I’m not.

Three sisters and two cars is not a perfect equation. I check my phone to see if I missed anything in the group chat.

Viv: I’m taking Carol to work

Taryn: I thought we agreed on Joan?

Vivi Yeah but saying I’m taking Joan makes me feel like a 40 year old mom who drives a minivan

Taryn: And Carol doesn't give you the same vibes?

Viv: Nah, Crackhead Carol is wildddddd

Taryn: I hate you.

Taryn: I’m taking Olie to the mall, Jude can you catch the bus?

Viv: I can not believe that you give me shit for Carol and then named our beautiful baby after Oliver Wood.

Taryn: Excuse me? Oliver Wood is the god of the century

Viv: Bitch can't beat Luna

Taryn: You would

Taryn: Do we think Jude will even see this or am I gonna have to go back to pick her up

Viv: She’s probably to busy dreaming nasty thoughts about her ghosty boy and his little ghost

Taryn: Let's not start on this again pls

Viv: I’ll be home at 9 don’t die in the meantime xx

First of all, Shit.

Second, I’m going to strangle Vivi with my bare hands. Garrett and I are friends and it's actually starting to piss me off.

Third, how the fuck do they expect me to get Oak with no car? Fucking idiots.

Jude: Which one of you dumbos is gonna get Oak?

Viv: Workingggggggg

Taryn: I’m 45 minutes away... so like u

Jude: I am wishing death upon your souls :)

I look at my watch to see It’s already three. Shit.

What am I going to do? Walk? I can’t call Orianna or Dad. I am not in the mood to face Oriannas snarky comments or Dad’s lectures about responsibility.

So that leaves walking. Or more like running. I am so going to be late.

But as I’m dashing across the parking lot I almost get run over by a black Porsche Cayenne.

Which p.s. is one sexy ass car.

Usually, I might stop to give the driver an earful about how running over pedestrians is not the vibe. But I have 15 minutes to get to Oak’s school which is like 20 minutes on foot.

I start walking again when I hear the car's window roll down and a voice from the driver's seat.

It’s Cardan.

Of course.

I’m waiting for a comment about idiotically walking behind moving cars but it doesn’t come. Or for him to unleash the snide comments he has been holding back all afternoon. However, what does come out is even worse.

“Do you need a ride?”

....

I’m staring at him through his open window. I’m about two feet from the driver's door and Cardan is tapping his fingers methodically on the door.

He doesn’t look very menacing. His eyes are flickering over my face and he raises an eyebrow up at me.

“Well?” He asks probingly. I’m all too aware of what this means. The dude who terrorized my childhood is reaching out an olive branch.

There’s a part of me that wants to turn and walk away from his cruel glares and the comments he used to spit at me and Taryn. But I really could use a ride.

Plus, he looks extremely hot with one of his hands on the wheel which is like an added bonus.

“Yeah, I do.” He seems a little surprised that I said yes. I watch as a small smirk graces his face. Damn.

He nods his head to the passenger side and I walk around the car and slide into the seat. Just FYI these seats are comfortable as shit.

I look over at Cardan as he starts to back up. Which is a terrible idea. He looks so laid back and comfortable. He looks like he fits here and his face is blank of that awful sneer he seems to have on every day at school.

It makes me despise him a little less. I should have walked.

“Can you drop me off at Elfame Elementary?”

He looks over at me quizically. “Yeah.” A pause. “Why do you need to go there?”

“I need to pick up my little brother,”.

“Is that why you were running around the parking lot like a headless chicken?”. He looks amused as he says this.

“I was not running around like a headless chicken.” My voice is a little cold as I speak. His face goes a little more stonelike at my tone.

Jude! Wtf, this guy is giving you a ride. Pull it together!

“My sisters took the cars and left me stranded,” I attempt a little more warmly. “So thank you.”

His face twists a little surprised at the thank you. Mind kind of does too. Me saying thank you to the kid who poured milk all over me on picture day for years throughout elementary school.

Cardan doesn’t say anything else as we drive to Oak’s school. He just turns on some music and drives. It’s actually kind of nice being able to watch the vibrant green trees go zooming by.

Before I know it Cardan is pulling into the parking lot of the elementary school.

A little bit of me is disappointed it's over so soon. I actually feel a little peaceful.

I look down at my watch to see it’s 3:10. Perfect!

“Thanks, Cardan, truly this was life-saving,” I reach over to the handle about to push the door open when I look back to see an expression on Cardan's face that matches my own.

“How are you going to get home after?” Cardan’s voice is soft as he asks.

“I was going to walk to Ralph’s, Viv has one of the cars with her,”.

“That's like a mile away,” Cardan says laughing a little as he does.

“Don’t really have any other options here buddy,”

“Buddy?” He looks offended. As if the word is a personal assault to his well being. I can’t help but roll my eyes. To which he notices and roll’s his eyes back at me.

“I can drive you and your brother home. If you want?”.

Yes. I do want. But I’m not really in the mood to owe Cardan anything and this feels like a favor a little too out of his way. Why is he helping me out?

So no?

But I’m also not in the mood for the complaining Oak will give me for walking in this sweltering heat.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Then I shut the door and head into the school.

....

Oak is looking up at me with a puzzled look on his face.

“I thought Viv was going to get me today?”

“Sorry, bud. She had to work.” He just shrugs. “Does that mean shell bring me back a milkshake!” He’s popping up on his toes almost jumping in joy. I just stifle a laugh and shake his hair up.

“Where did you park Olie?” Oak is looking around quizically trying to spot the black jeep named after the quidditch legend himself. When he cant spot Ollie Oak turns to look at me with a full face of disappointment. “Did you drive Crackhead Carol?”

The dad who walks by as he gives me a wide eyed look before shuffling his kids along in the opposite direction. I can’t help roll my eyes even though Vivi isn’t even here.

Oak is still looking at me in despair. He hates Crackhead Carol. Says that it’s scary driving in it. Which is not true. The only reason he hates Carol is that every time he’s in Carol is when Vivi is driving. Which is an experience to drive any person to full body fear.

“I did not drive Carol.” Oak’s shoulders un-tense and he goes back to bouncing as we make our way past the busses and smiling bus monitors to the parking lot.

“So how did you get here?”

“Oak, chill out we’re not walking to Ralph's,” I say still heading to where Cardan parked his car.

Oak just stops halfway through the parking lot with his hands on his hips demanding an explanation. As much as he is trying to be serious he just looks adorable.

“I’ll give you a piggyback if you stop being an annoying little butt.” He just smiles and catapults onto my back. I don’t often offer to give Oak piggybacks any more. He’s gotten heavier as he's grown. Plus sometimes he thinks he's too old and cool for them. I guess today is not one of those days.

When I get back to Cardan’s car I can see he has an amused smile as he watches my cart around my lanky 7 year old brother.

Oak looks at me with wide eyes as I buckle him up in the back and plop down in the passenger seat. Cardan has turned off the rap he was playing early and switched it to that teeny bob that I despise but Taryn loves.

I look over to see that not only is the amused look on his lips but also in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything and instead just pulls out of the parking lot.

Oak who has been unusually quiet finally opens his mouth.

“Are you Jude’s boyfriend?” Oh my god.

“Oak!” My face has most certainly paled to the color of ice. Cardan looks at first like he might throw up with the thought but then he starts laughing.

And damn is that a nice sight. His sharp features are relaxed and full of laughter.

“Jude’s never had a boyfriend before.” Oak pauses for a second before continuing. “Actually she had one boyfriend but now he’s Taryn’s boyfriend so that doesn’t really count.”

I think I might strangle Oak. I look over at Cardan who seems to have gone a little rigid with this turn of the conversation. Having Cardan sit here with my brother telling him about my relationship disasters is embarrassing.

I mean, of course, he already knows this. He’s friends with Locke. But still, something about this is bugging me.

“Oak,” My voice is diminished when I speak. I’m looking out the window forcing the feelings I've been fighting for months to go away. Taryn and I worked things out. We always do. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting sometimes.

That's when I feel a strong nimble hand grab mine. I look over to Cardan as he drives. His eyes are focused on the road as he squeezes my hand.

I think my heart is going to melt.

But then I think I’m going to attack him. I remember seeing Nicasia laugh along with Valerian and Locke. Who’s to say he didn’t poke fun of the fool I was. I bet he’s only doing this now to go laugh at what an idiot I am later with all of his cronies.

But then he catches my eyes and he seems genuinely sad for me so I don’t attack him. But I do pull my hand from his and look back out the window. I don’t care if he’s been nice today. That does not exclude the years of name-calling. Of making me and Taryn feel small. Of how he glared at me at the party. What the fuck changed so quickly?

Oak is apparently not done talking. As usual. “Only Heather and Locke drive me places too. They're both my sister's boyfriend and girlfriend.” That makes me turn around.

“Cardan is not my boyfriend.” My voice is firm as I speak.

I look over to see a little bit of anger on his face. He has both hands on the wheel. No aimless tapping or anything. He looks over with that cold glare he gave me at the party.

Great! He’s mad because I pulled my hand from his. What an arrogant bastard.

....

When we finally get home Oak jumps out of the car running to the door. Something about Fixer Upper being on. What an odd kid.

Oak’s gone before I can even open the door leaving me and Cardan alone.

He’s staring dead out the window not even bothering to look at me. Which is fucking annoying. This dude needs to get a grip on his mood swings. I’m irritated enough to the point where I have to say something.

“Why the fuck were you being so tolerable early? You're usually pretty shitty to me. So whats up? What's with the bits of decency all of the sudden. You hate me. What's going on here?”

He turns his head to meet me eye to eye. His lips are sent in such a hard line I don’t think I’m going to get an answer.

“I do not hate you.”

“No? What about that time you called me and Taryn lowlife orphans who were less important than the dirt on your shoe? Or when you would steal my lunch money every day? Or that time you tripped me at elementary school graduation? I broke my ankle.” I’m seething. My whole body hot with anger.

He just sits there. Stone cold as ice.

“I was a child.” It's icy. Dismissive. As if the pent up anger, the feelings I had that I didn’t belong where nothing.

“Fine. What about Friday night? That lovely moment when you basically kicked me out of that party? Omg, what about when I started dating Locke and you called me a filthy slut! That was a fun one.”

He’s staring at me with a hard unrelenting stare.

I can not believe I started to think he wasn’t such an asshole. Just listening to myself speak I realize how dumb I am. I’m too pissed at the feelings that have been in that dark space next to my heart to even wait for his answer.

I’m curious sure. But I’m done. I’ve put up with this shit for too long.

I’m storming out of the car. Slamming the door to his precious car as hard as I can.

“Jude.” His voice is hard. Commanding. I feel like smacking him into next week.

I turn to see him standing out of his door arms crossed defensively. I can't help but match his stance. He’s only 3 ft away and I feel the urge to run as far as I can.

“I don’t hate you.” He’s spitting the words out now full of force.

“You looked hot as fuck Friday night,”. What? “And that pissed me the fuck off because I like you.”

What the fuck.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Oh my god. “And I hate that.”

He takes a pause, “I despise you for it.”

I’m frozen in place. Just staring at this asshole who had the nerve to tell me he likes me? After the torment, he inflicted on me as a kid. After the name-calling and the glares and the...

My entire brain freezes as he tugs me into his chest. Hard.

Because now he's kissing me. And damn is he a good kisser.

He has a hand tangled in my hair and the other one is keeping me pinned to him. I’m a stone statue for a whole 3 seconds before I acknowledge what is happening. But then I can’t stop myself as my arms wrap around his body and I'm pushing into him as much as I can.

He’s turning us around backing me up to his car door. The kisses becoming hungrier, needier. His hands have moved down to my ass. Holding me as close to him as possible. I can’t stop the roving my hands are doing. Finding their way to that sweet soft black hair.

I can’t let go. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this. What it feels like to not have a single space between us. What it feels like for Cardan's hand to be intertwined with my hair, pulling me into him.

“See I told you Jude had a boyfriend!”.

I hate my life.

~~~

My one tag hehe:

@fireheartbuzzard

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